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APOLOGIA PEO VITA SUA: 
 
 % ^isfoni of 1/is Eetrigious C)ptnioniS. 
 
 *' Commit thy way to the Lord, and trust in Him, and He will do it. 
 And He will bring forth thy justice as the light, and thy 
 judgment as the noon-day." 
 
 JOHX HEXRY XEWMAX, D.D. 
 
 OF THE OEATOET OF ST. PHILIP yEEI. 
 
 IfFTV EDITIOy. 
 
 LOXDOy : 
 
 LOXGMAXS, GREEN, READER, AND DYER. 
 
 1875. 
 
 ^'i' ^^^^ ■ r- liBRARy 
 
 BRIGHTON, iviA 02m 
 
V5)/:,^)fO,^ 
 
 LONDON : 
 GILBERT AND EIVINGTON, PEINTEES, 
 
 ST. John's square. 
 
 From the 
 
 Library of 
 
 L. W. McCxrath. Tr 
 
 OSoCi^y 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The following History of my Religious Opinions, 
 now that it is detached from the context in which 
 it originally stood, requires some preliminary ex- 
 planation ; and that, not only in order to introduce 
 it generally to the reader, but specially to make 
 him understand, how I came to write a whole book 
 about myself, and about my most private thoughts 
 and feelings. Did I consult indeed my own im- 
 pulses, I should do my best simply to wipe out of 
 my Volume, and consign to oblivion, every trace of 
 the circumstances to which it is to be ascribed; 
 but its original title of " Apologia " is too exactly 
 borne out by its matter and structure, and these 
 again are too suggestive of correlative circum- 
 stances, and those circumstances are of too grave a 
 character, to allow of my indulging so natural a 
 wish. And therefore, though in this new Edition 
 I have managed to omit nearly a hundred pages- of 
 my original Volume, which I could safely consider 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 to be of merely ephemeral importance, I am even 
 for that very reason obliged, by way of making up 
 for their absence, to prefix to my Narrative some 
 account of the provocation out of which it arose. 
 
 It is now more than twenty years that a vague 
 impression to my disadvantage has rested on the 
 popular mind, as if my conduct towards the Angli- 
 can Church, while I was a member of it, was incon- 
 sistent with Christian simplicity and uprightness. 
 An impression of this kind was almost unavoidable 
 under the circumstances of the case, when a man, 
 who had written strongly against a cause, and had 
 collected a party round him by virtue of such 
 writings, gradually faltered in his opposition to it, 
 unsaid his words, threw his own friends into per- 
 plexity and their proceedings into confusion, and 
 ended by passing over to the side of those whom 
 he had so vigorously denounced. Sensitive then 
 as I have ever been of the imputations which have 
 been so freely cast upon me, I have never felt much 
 impatience under them, as considering them to be 
 a portion of the penalty which I naturally and 
 justly incurred by my change of religion, even 
 though they were to continue as long as I lived. 
 I left their removal to a future day, when personal 
 feelings would have died out, and documents would 
 see the light, which were as yet buried in closets 
 or scattered through the country. 
 
 This was my state of mind, as it had been for 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 many years, when, in the beginning of 1864, I 
 unexpectedly found myself publicly put upon my 
 defence, and furnished with an opportunity of plead- 
 ing my cause before the world, and, as it so hap- 
 pened, with a fair prospect of an impartial hearing. 
 Taken indeed by surprise, as I was, I had much 
 reason to be anxious how I should be able to acquit 
 mvself in so serious a matter: however, I had lonof 
 had a tacit understanding with myself, that, in the 
 improbable event of a challenge being formally 
 made to me, by a person of name, it would be my 
 duty to meet it. That opportunity had now oc- 
 curred ; it never might occur again ; not to avail 
 myself of it at once would be virtually to give up 
 my cause ; accordingly, I took advantage of it, and, 
 as it has turned out, the circumstance that no time 
 was allowed me for any studied statements has com- 
 pensated, in the equitable judgment of the public, 
 for such imperfections in composition as my want 
 of leisure involved. 
 
 It was in the number for January 1864, of a 
 magazine of wide circulation, and in an Article 
 upon Queen Elizabeth, that a popular writer took 
 occasion formally to accuse me by name of thinking 
 so lightly of the virtue of Veracity, as in set terms 
 to have countenanced and defended that nes^lect of 
 it which he at the same time imputed to the Ca- 
 tholic Priesthood. His words were these : — 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 " Truth, for its own sake, had never heen a vir- 
 tue with the Roman clergy. Father Newman in- 
 forms us that it need not, and on the whole ought 
 not to be; that cunning is the weapon which 
 heaven has given to the Saints wherewith to with- 
 stand the brute male force of the wicked world 
 which marries and is given in marriage. Whether 
 his notion be doctrinally correct or not, it is at least 
 historically so." 
 
 These assertions, going far beyond the popular 
 prejudice entertained against me, had no founda- 
 tion whatever in fact. I never had said, I never 
 had dreamed of saying, that truth for its own sake, 
 need not, and on the whole ought not to be, a 
 virtue with the Roman Clergy; or that cunning is 
 the weapon which heaven has given to the Saints 
 wherewith to withstand the wicked world. To 
 what work of mine then could the writer be refer- 
 ring ? In a correspondence which ensued upon the 
 subject between him and myself, he rested his 
 charge against me on a Sermon of mine, preached, 
 before I was a Catholic, in the pulpit of my Church 
 at Oxford ; and he gave me to understand, that, after 
 having done as much as this, he was not bound, over 
 and above such a general reference to my Sermon, 
 to specify the passages of it, in which the doctrine, 
 which he imputed to me, was contained. On my 
 part I considered this not enough ; and I demanded 
 of him to bring out his proof of his accusation in 
 
PREFACE. ^11 
 
 form and in detail, or to confess he was unable to 
 do so. But he persevered in his refusal to cite any 
 distinct passages from any writing of mine; and, 
 though he consented to withdraw his charge, he 
 would not do so on the issue of its truth or false- 
 hood, but simply on the ground that I assured him 
 that I had had no intention of incurring it. This 
 did not satisfy my sense of justice. Formally to 
 charge me with committing a fault is one thing; 
 to allow that I did not intend to commit it, is 
 another; it is no satisfaction to me, if a man 
 accuses me of this offence, for him to profess that 
 he does not accuse me of that; but he thought 
 differently. Not being able then to gain redress 
 in the quarter, where I had a right to ask it, I 
 appealed to the public. I published the corre- 
 spondence in the shape of a Pamphlet, with some 
 remarks of my own at the end, on the course which 
 that correspondence had taken. 
 
 This Pamphlet, which appeared in the first weeks 
 of February, received a reply from my accuser to- 
 wards the end of March, in another Pamphlet of 
 48 pages, entitled, " \Yhat then does Dr. Newman 
 mean ?" in which he professed to do that which I had 
 called upon him to do ; that is, he brought together 
 a number of extracts from various works of mine, 
 Catholic and Anglican, with the object of showing 
 that, if I was to be acquitted of the crime of teach- 
 ing and practising deceit and dishonesty, according to 
 
VIU PKEFACE. 
 
 his first supposition, it was at the price of tny being 
 considered no longer responsible for my actions; 
 for, as he expressed it, ''I had a human reason 
 once, no doubt, but I had gambled it away," and I 
 had " worked my mind into that morbid state, in 
 which nonsense was the only food for which it 
 hungered;" and that it could not be called "a 
 hastv or farfetched or unfounded mistake, when he 
 concluded that I did not care for truth for its own 
 sake, or teach my disciples to regard it as a virtue;'^ 
 and, though " too many prefer the charge of insin • 
 cerity to that of insipience, Dr. Newman seemed 
 not to be of that number." 
 
 He ended his Pamphlet by returning to his origi- 
 nal imputation against me, which he had professed 
 to abandon. Alluding by anticipation to my pro- 
 bable answer to what he was then publishing, he 
 professed his heartfelt embarrassment how he was 
 to believe any thing I might say in my exculpation, 
 in the plain and literal sense of the words. "I am 
 henceforth," he said, '' in doubt and fear, as much 
 as an honest man can be, concerning every word Dr. 
 Newman may write. How can I tell, that I shall 
 not be the dupe of some cunning equivocation, of one 
 of the three kinds laid down as permissible by the 
 blessed St. Alfonso da Liguori and his pupils, even 
 when confirmed with an oath, because ' then we do 
 not deceive our neighbour, but allow him to deceive 
 himself?' . . . How can I tell, that I may not in 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 this Pamphlet have made an accusation, of the truth 
 of which Dr. Newman is perfectly conscious ; but 
 that, as I, a heretic Protestant, have no business to 
 make it, he has a full right to deny it ?" 
 
 Even if I could have found it consistent with my 
 duty to my own reputation to leave such an elabo- 
 rate impeachment of my moral nature unanswered, 
 my duty to my Brethren in the Catholic Priesthood, 
 would have forbidden such a course. Thej/ were 
 involved in the charges w^hich this writer, all along, 
 from the original passage in the Magazine, to the 
 very last paragraph of the Pamphlet, had so confi- 
 dently, so pertinaciously made. In exculpating my- 
 self, it was plain I should be pursuing no mere per- 
 sonal quarrel ; — I was offering my humble service to 
 a sacred cause. I was making my protest in behalf 
 of a large body of men of high character, of honest 
 and religious minds, and of sensitive honour, — w^ho 
 had their place and their rights in this world, 
 though they were ministers of the world unseen, 
 and who were insulted by my Accuser, as the above 
 extracts from him sufficiently show, not only in my 
 person, but directly and pointedly in their ow^n. 
 Accordingly, I at once set about writing the 
 Apologia pro vita sud^ of which the present Volume 
 is the Second Edition ; and it was a great reward 
 to me to find, as the controversy proceeded, such 
 large numbers of my clerical brethren supporting 
 me by their sympathy in the course which I was 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 pursuing, and, as occasion offered, bestowing on me 
 the formal and public expression of their appro- 
 bation. These testimonials in my behalf, so im- 
 portant and so grateful to me, are, together with 
 the Letter, sent to me with the same purpose, from 
 my Bishop, contained in the last pages of this 
 Volume 
 
 This Edition differs from the Apologia in the fol- 
 lowing particulars: — The original work consisted 
 of seven Parts, which were published in series on 
 consecutive Thursdays, between April 21 and 
 June 2. An Appendix, in answer to specific alle- 
 gations urged against me in the Pamphlet of 
 Accusation, appeared on June 16. Of these Parts 
 1 and 2, as being for the most part directly contro- 
 versial, are omitted in this Edition, excepting the 
 latter pages of Part 2, which are subjoined to this 
 Preface, as being necessary for the due explanation 
 of the subsequent five Parts. These, (being 3, 4, 
 5, 6, 7, of the Apologia,) are here numbered as 
 Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 respectively. Of the 
 Appendix, about half has been omitted, for the 
 same reason as has led to the omission of Parts 
 1 and 2. The rest of it is thrown into the shape 
 of Notes of a discursive character, with two new 
 ones on Liberalism and the Lives of the English 
 Saints of 1843-4, and another, new in part, on 
 Ecclesiastical Miracles. In the body of the work, 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 the only addition of consequence is the letter which 
 is found at p. 228, a copy of which has recently 
 come into my possession. 
 
 I should add that, since writing the Apologia last 
 year, I have seen for the first time Mr. Oakeley's 
 " Notes on the Tractarian Movement." This work 
 remarkably corroborates the substanceof my Narra- 
 tive, while the kind terms in which he speaks of me 
 personally, call for my sincere gratitude. 
 
 May 2, 1865. 
 
XU PREE'ACE. 
 
 I make this extract from my Apologia, Part 2, 
 pp. 29 — 31 and pp. 41 — 51, in order to set before 
 the reader the drift I had in writing my Volume : — 
 
 What shall be the special imputation, against which I 
 shall throw myself in these pages, out of the thousand and 
 one which my Accuser directs upon me ? I mean to con- 
 fine myself to one, for there is only one about which I 
 much care, — the charge of Untruthfulness. He may cast 
 upon me as many other imputations as he pleases, and they 
 may stick on me, as long as they can, in the course of 
 nature. They will fall to the ground in their season. 
 
 And indeed I think the same of the charge of Untruth- 
 fulness, and select it from the rest, not because it is more 
 formidable but because it is more serious. Like the rest, it 
 may disfigure me for a time, but it will not stain : Arch- 
 bishop Whately used to say, "Throw dirt enough, and 
 some will stick ; " well, will stick, but not, will stain. I 
 think he used to mean " stain," and I do not agree with 
 him. Some dirt sticks longer than other dirt ; but no dirt 
 is immortal. According to the old sajdng, Praevalebit 
 Veritas. There are virtues indeed, about which the world 
 is not fitted to judge or to uphold, such as faith, hope, and 
 charity : but it can judge about Truthfulness ; it can judge 
 about the natural virtues, and Truthfulness is one of them 
 
PREFACE. XIU 
 
 Natural virtues may also become supernatural ; Truthful- 
 ness is such ; but that does not withdraw it from the juris- 
 diction of mankind at large. It may be more difficult in 
 this or that particular case for men to take cognizance of 
 it, as it may be difficult for the Court of Queen's Bench at 
 Westminster to try a case fairly which took place in Hin- 
 dostan : but that is a question of capacity, not of right. 
 Mankind has the right to judge of Truthfulness in a 
 Catholic, as in the case of a Protestant, of an Italian, or of 
 a Chinese. I have never doubted, that in my hour, in 
 God's hour, my avenger will appear, and the world will 
 acquit me of untruthfulness, even though it be not while 
 I live. 
 
 Still more confident am I of such, eventual acquittal, see- 
 ing that my judges are my own countrymen. I consider, 
 indeed. Englishmen the most suspicious and touchy of man- 
 kind; I think them unreasonable, and unjust in their 
 seasons of excitement ; but I had rather be an Englishman, 
 (as in fact I am,) than belong to any other race under 
 heaven. They are as generous, as they are hasty and 
 byirly; and their repentance for their injustice is greater 
 than their sin. 
 
 For twenty years and more I have borne an imputation, 
 of which. I am at least as sensitive, who am the object of 
 it, as they can be, who are only the judges. I have not 
 set myself to remove it, first, because I never have had an 
 opening to speak, and, next, because I never saw in them 
 the disposition to hear. I have wished to appeal from 
 Philip drunk to Philip sober. When shall I pronounce 
 him to be himself again ? If I may judge from the tone 
 of the public press, which represents the public voice, I 
 have great reason to take heart at this time. I have been 
 treated by contemporary critics in this controversy with 
 great fairness and gentleness, and I am grateful to them 
 for it. However, the decision oi the time and mode of my 
 
XIV PREFACE. 
 
 defence has been taken out of my liands ; and I am thank- 
 ful that it has been so. I am bound now as a duty to 
 myself, to the Catholic cause, to the Catholic Priesthood, 
 to give account of myself without any delay, when I am so 
 rudely and circumstantially charged with Untruthfulness. 
 I accept the challenge ; I shall do my best to meet it, and 
 I shall be content when I have done so. 
 
 It is not my present accuser alone who entertains, and 
 has entertained, so dishonourable an opinion of me and of 
 my writings. It is the impression of large classes of men ; 
 the impression twenty years ago and the impression now. 
 There has been a general feeling that I was for years where 
 I had no right to be ; that I was a " Romanist" in Pro- 
 testant livery and service ; that I was doing the work of a 
 hostile Church in the bosom of the English Establishment, 
 and knew it, or ought to have known it. There was no 
 need of arguing about particular passages in my writings, 
 when the fact was so patent, as men thought it to be. 
 
 First it was certain, and I could not myself deny it, that 
 I scouted the name " Protestant." It was certain again, 
 that many of the doctrines which I professed were popu- 
 larly and generally known as badges of the Roman Church, 
 as distinguished from the faith of the Reformation. Next, 
 how could I have come by them ? Evidently, I had cer- 
 tain friends and advisers who did not appear ; there was 
 some underground communication between Stonyhurst or 
 Oscott and my rooms at Oriel. Beyond a doubt, I was 
 advocating certain doctrines, not by accident, but on an 
 understanding with ecclesiastics of the old religion. Then 
 men went further, and said that I had actually been re- 
 ceived into that religion, and withal had leave given me 
 to profess myself a Protestant still. Others went even 
 further, and gave it out to the world, as a matter of fact, 
 of which they themselves had the proof in their hands. 
 
PREFACE. XV 
 
 that I was actually a Jesuit. And when the opinions 
 which I advocated spread, and younger men went further 
 than I, the feeling against me waxed stronger and took a 
 wider range. 
 
 And now indignation arose at the knavery of a conspi- 
 racy such as this : — and it became of course all the greater 
 in consequence of its being the received belief of the public 
 at large, that craft and intrigue, such as they fancied they 
 beheld with their eyes, were the very instruments to which 
 the Catholic Church has in these last centuries been in- 
 debted for her maintenance and extension. 
 
 There was another circumstance still, which increased 
 the irritation and aversion felt by the large classes, of whom 
 I have been speaking, against the preachers of doctrines, 
 80 new to them and so unpalatable ; and that was, that 
 they developed them in so measured a way. If they were 
 inspired by Eoman theologians, (and this was taken for 
 granted,) why did they not speak out at once ? Why did 
 they keep the world in such suspense and anxiety as to 
 what was coming next, and what was to be the upshot of 
 the whole ? Why this reticence, and half- speaking, and 
 apparent indecision ? It was plain that the plan of opera- 
 tions had been carefully mapped out from the first, and 
 that these men were cautiously advancing towards its 
 accomplishment, as far as was safe at the moment ; that 
 their aim and their hope was to carry ofi* a large body with 
 them of the young and the ignorant ; that they meant gra- 
 dually to leaven the minds of the rising generation, and to 
 open the gates of that city, of which they were the sworn 
 defenders, to the enemy who lay in ambush outside of it. 
 And when in spite of the many protestations of the party 
 to the contrary, there was at length an actual movement 
 among their disciples, and one went over to Rome, and 
 then another, the worst anticipations and the worst judg- 
 ments which had been formed of them received their justi- 
 
XVI PREFACE. 
 
 fication. And, lastly, when men first had said of me, 
 *' You will see, he will go, lie is only biding his time, he is 
 waiting the word of command from Rome," and, when 
 after all, after my arguments and denunciations of former 
 years, at length I did leave the Anglican Church for the 
 Koman, then they said to each other, " It is just as we 
 said : we knew it would be so." 
 
 This was the state of mind of masses of men twenty 
 years ago, who took no more than an external and common 
 sense view of what was going on. And partly the tradi- 
 tion, partly the effect of that feeling, remains to the present 
 time. Certainly I consider that, in my own case, it is the 
 great obstacle in the way of my being favourably heard, as 
 at present, when I have to make my defence. Not only 
 am I now a member of a most un-English communion, 
 whose great aim is considered to be the extinction of Pro- 
 testantism and the Protestant Church, and whose means of 
 attack are popularly supposed to be unscrupulous cunning 
 and deceit, but how came I originally to have any relations 
 with the Church of Rome at all ? did I, or my opinions, 
 drop from the sky ? how came I, in Oxford, in gremio Uni- 
 versitatis, to present myself to the eyes of men in that full 
 blown investiture of Popery? How could I dare, how 
 could I have the conscience, with warnings, with prophe- 
 cies, with accusations against me, to persevere in a path 
 which steadily advanced towards, which ended in, the reK- 
 gion of Pome ? And how am I now to be trusted, w^hen 
 long ago I was trusted, and was found wanting ? 
 
 It is this which is the strength of the case of my Accuser 
 against me ; — not the articles of impeachment which he 
 has framed from my writings, and which I shall easily 
 crumble into dust, but the bias of the court. It is the 
 state of the atmosphere ; it is the vibration all around, 
 which will echo his bold assertion of my dishonesty ; it is 
 that prepossession against me, which takes it for granted 
 
PREFACE. XVll 
 
 that, when my reasoning is convincing it is only inge- 
 nious, and that when my statements are unanswerable, 
 there is always something put out of sight or hidden in 
 my sleeve ; it is that plausible, but cruel conclusion to 
 which men are apt to jump, that when much is imputed, 
 much must be true, and that it is more likely that one 
 should be to blame, than that many should be mistaken in 
 blaming him ; — these are the real foes which I have to 
 fight, and the auxiliaries to whom my Accuser makes his 
 advances. 
 
 Well, I must break through this barrier of prejudice 
 against me if I can ; and I think I shall be able to do so. 
 When first I read the Pamphlet of Accusation, I almost 
 despaired of meeting effectively such a heap of misrepre- 
 sentations and such a vehemence of animosity. What was 
 the good of answering first one point, and then another, 
 and going through the whole circle of its abuse ; when my 
 answer to the first point would be forgotten, as soon as I 
 got to the second ? What was the use of bringing out half 
 a hundred separate principles or views for the refutation of 
 the separate counts in the Indictment, when rejoinders of 
 this sort would but confuse and torment the reader by 
 their number and their diversity ? What hope was there 
 of condensing into a pamphlet of a readable length, matter 
 which ought freely to expand itself into half a dozen 
 volumes ? What means was there, except the expenditure 
 of interminable pages, to set right even one of that series 
 of " single passing hints," to use my Assailant's own lan- 
 guage, which, "as with his finger tip he had delivered" 
 against me ? 
 
 All those separate charges had their force in being illus- 
 trations of one and the same great imputation. He had 
 already a positive idea to illuminate his whole matter, and 
 to stamp it with a force, and to quicken it with an inter- 
 pretation. He called me a liaVi — a simple, a broad, an in- 
 
 a 
 
Xviii PREFACE. 
 
 telligible, to the English public a plausible arraignment ; 
 but for me, to answer in detail charge one by reason one, 
 and charge two by reason two, and charge three by reason 
 three, and so on through the whole string both of accusa- 
 tions and replies, each of which was to be independent of 
 the rest, this would be certainly labour lost as regards any 
 effective result. What I needed was a corresponding anta- 
 gonist unity in my defence, and where was that to be 
 found ? We see, in the case of commentators on the pro- 
 phecies of Scripture, an exemplification of the principle on 
 which I am insisting ; viz. how much more powerful even 
 a false interpretation of the sacred text is than none at 
 all; — how a certain key to the visions of the Apocalypse, 
 for instance, may cling to the mind (I have found it so in 
 the case of my own), because the view, which it opens on 
 us, is positive and objective, in spite of the fullest demon- 
 stration that it really has no claim upon our reception. 
 The reader says, "What else can the prophecy mean?" 
 just as my Accuser asks, ** What, then, does Dr. Newman 
 
 mean ?" I reflected, and I saw a way out of my 
 
 perplexity. 
 
 Yes, I said to myself, his very question is about my 
 meaning; "What does Dr. Newman mean?" It pointed 
 in the very same direction as that into which my musings 
 had turned me already. He asks what I mean ; not about 
 my words, not about my arguments, not about my actions, 
 as his ultimate point, but about that living intelligence, by 
 which I write, and argue, and act. He asks about my 
 Mind and its Beliefs and its sentiments ; and he shall be 
 answered ; — not for his own sake, but for mine, for the 
 sake of the Religion which I profess, and of the Priest- 
 hood in which I am unworthily included, and of my 
 friends and of my foes, and of that general public which 
 consists of neither one nor the other, but of well-wishers, 
 lovers of fair play, sceptical cross-questioners, interested 
 
PREFACE. XIX 
 
 inquirers, curious lookers-on, and simple strangers, uncon- 
 cerned yet not careless about the issue, — for tlie sake of all 
 these he shall be answered. 
 
 My perplexity had not lasted half an hour. I recognized 
 what I had to do, though I shrank from both the task and 
 the exposure which it would entail. I must, I said, give 
 the true key to my whole life ; I must show what I am, 
 that it may be seen what I am not, and that the phantom 
 may be extinguished which gibbers instead of me. I wish 
 to be known as a living man, and not as a scarecrow which 
 is dressed up in my clothes. False ideas may be refuted 
 indeed by argument, but by true ideas alone are they ex- 
 pelled. I will vanquish, not my Accuser, but my judges. 
 I will indeed answer his charges and criticisms on me one 
 by one \ lest any one should say that they are unanswer- 
 able, but such a work shall not be the scope nor the sub- 
 stance of my reply. I will draw out, as far as may be, 
 the history of my mind ; I will state the point at which 
 I began, in what external suggestion or accident each 
 opinion had its rise, how far and how they developed from 
 within, how they grew, were modified, were combined, 
 were in collision with each other, and were changed ; 
 again how I conducted myself towards them, and how, 
 and how far, and for how long a time, I thought I could 
 hold them consistently with the ecclesiastical engagements 
 which I had made and with the position which I held. I 
 must show, — what is the very truth, — that the doctrines 
 which I held, and have held for so many j^ears, have 
 been taught me (speaking humanly) partly by the sug- 
 gestions of Protestant friends, partly by the teaching of 
 books, and partly by the action of my own mind: and 
 thus I shall account for that phenomenon which to so 
 
 ' This was done in the Appendix, of which the more important parts are 
 preserved in the Notes. 
 
XX PREFACE. 
 
 many seems so wonderful, that I should have left *'my 
 kindred and my father's house " for a Church from which 
 once I turned away with dread ; — so wonderful to them ! 
 as if forsooth a Religion which has flourished through so 
 many ages, among so many nations, amid such varieties of 
 social life, in such contrary classes and conditions of men, 
 and after so many revolutions, political and civil, could 
 not subdue the reason and overcome the heart, without 
 the aid of fraud in the process and the sophistries of the 
 schools. 
 
 What I had proposed to myself in the course of half-an- 
 hour, I determined on at the end of ten days. However, 
 I have many difficulties in fulfilling my design. How am 
 I to say all that has to be said in a reasonable compass ? 
 And then as to the materials of my narrative ; I have no 
 autobiographical notes to consult, no written explanations 
 of particular treatises or of tracts which at the time gave 
 offence, hardly any minutes of definite transactions or con- 
 versations, and few contemporary memoranda, I fear, of 
 the feelings or motives under which from time to time I 
 acted. I have an abundance of letters from friends with 
 some copies or drafts of my answers to them, but they are 
 for the most part unsorted; and, till this process has taken 
 place, they are even too numerous and various to be avail- 
 able at a moment for my purpose. Then, as to the volumes 
 which I have published, they would in many ways serve 
 me, were I well up in them : but though I took great pains 
 in their composition, I have thought little about them, 
 when they were once out of my hands, and for the most 
 part the last time I read them has been when I revised 
 their last proof sheets. 
 
 Under these circumstances my sketch will of course be 
 incomplete. I now for the first time contemplate my 
 course as a whole ; it is a first essay, but it will contain, I 
 
PREFACE. XXI 
 
 trust, no serious or substantial mistake, and so far will 
 answer the purpose for which I write it. I purpose to 
 set nothing down in it as certain, for which I have not a 
 clear memory, or some written -memorial, or the corrobo- 
 ration of some friend. There are witnesses enough up and 
 down the country to verify, or correct, or complete it ; and 
 letters moreover of my own in abundance, unless they have 
 been destroyed. 
 
 Moreover, I mean to be simply personal and historical : 
 I am not expounding Catholic doctrine, I am doing no 
 more than explaining myself, and my opinions and actions. 
 I wish, as far as I am able, simply to state facts, whether 
 they are ultimately determined to be for me or against me. 
 Of course there will be room enough for contrariety of 
 judgment among my readers, as to the necessity, or 
 appositeness, or value, or good taste, or religious prudence, 
 of the details which I shall introduce. I may be accused 
 of laying stress on little things, of being beside the mark, 
 of going into impertinent or ridiculous details, of sounding 
 my own praise, of giving scandal ; but this is a case above 
 all others, in which I am bound to follow my own lights 
 and to speak out my own heart. It is not at all pleasant 
 for me to be egotistical ; nor to be criticized for being so. 
 It is not pleasant to reveal to high and low, young and 
 old, what has gone on within me from my early years. 
 It is not pleasant to be giving to every shallow or flippant 
 disputant the advantage over me of knowing my most 
 private thoughts, I might even say the intercourse between 
 myself and my Maker. But I do not like to be called to 
 my face a liar and a knave; nor should I be doing my 
 duty to my faith or to my name, if I were to suffer it. I 
 know I have done nothing to deserve such an insult, and 
 if I prove this, as I hope to do, I must not care for such 
 incidental annoyances as are involved in the process. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PACE 
 
 History of my Religious Opinions up to 1S33 . , , , 1 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 History of my Eeligious Opinions from 1833 to 1839 ... 36 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 History of my Eeligious Opinions from 1839 to 18 11 ... 92 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 History of my Eeligious Opinions from 1841 to 1845 . , . 147 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Position of my Mind since 1845 238 
 
Xxiv • CONTENTS. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 PAOE 
 
 Note A. On page 14. Liberalism 285 
 
 B. On page 23. Ecclesiastical Miracles . . . .298 
 
 C. On page 153. Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence . 310 
 
 D. On page 213. Series of Saints' Lives of 1843-4 . . 323 
 
 E. On page 227. Anglican Church 339 
 
 F. On page 269. The Economy 343 
 
 G. On page 279. Lying and Equivocation . . . 348 
 
 SUPPLEMENTAL MATTER. 
 
 1. Chronological List of Letters and Papers quoted in this 
 
 Narrative 364 
 
 2. List of the Author's Works 366 
 
 3. Letter to him from his Diocesan 368 
 
 4. Addresses from bodies of Clergy and Laity .... 371 
 
 ADDITIONAL NOTES. 
 
 Note 1, on page 12. Correspondence with Archbishop Whately 
 
 in 1834 380 
 
 2, on page 323. Boniface of Canterbury . . . • 388 
 
MY EELIGIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS TO THE YEAR 1833. 
 
 It may easily be conceived how great a trial it is to me to 
 write the following history of myself; but I must not 
 shrink from the task. The words, "Secretum meum 
 mihi," keep ringing in my ears ; but as men draw towards 
 their end, they care less for disclosures. Nor is it the 
 least part of my trial, to anticipate that, upon first reading 
 what I have written, my friends may consider much in 
 it irrelevant to my purpose ; yet I cannot help thinking 
 that, viewed as a whole, it will effect what I propose to 
 myself in giving it to the public. 
 
 I was brought up from a child to take great delight in 
 reading the Bible ; but I had no formed religious convic- 
 tions till I was fifteen. Of course I had a perfect know- 
 ledge of my Catechism. 
 
 After I was grown up, I put on paper my recollections 
 of the thoughts and feelings on religious subjects, which I 
 had at the time that I was a child and a boy, — such as had 
 remained on my mind with sufficient prominence to make 
 me then consider them worth recording. Out of these, 
 written in the Long Vacation of 1820, and transcribed with 
 
 B 
 
 ; 
 
2 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 additions in 1823, I select two, whicli are at once the most 
 definite among them, and also have a bearing on my later 
 convictions. 
 
 1. *' I used to wish the Arabian Tales were true : my 
 imagination ran on unknown influences, on magical powers, 
 
 and talismans I thought life might be a 
 
 dream, or I an Angel, and all this world a deception, my 
 fellow-angels by a playful device concealing themselves 
 from me, and deceiving me with the semblance of a 
 material world." 
 
 Again: "Reading in the Spring of 1816 a sentence 
 from [Dr. Watts's] * Remnants of Time,' entitled ' the 
 Saints unknown to the world,' to the effect, that * there is 
 nothing in their figure or countenance to distinguish them,' 
 &c., &c., I supposed he spoke of Angels who lived in the 
 world, as it were disguised." 
 
 2. The other remark is this : " I was very superstitious, 
 and for some time previous to my conversion " [when I 
 was fifteen] " used constantly to cross myself on going into 
 the dark." 
 
 Of course I must have got this practice from some 
 external source or other ; but I can make no sort of con- 
 jecture whence ; and certainly no one had ever spoken to 
 me on the subject of the Catholic religion, which I only 
 knew by name. The French master was an emigre Priest, 
 but he was simply made a butt, as French masters too 
 commonly were in that day, and spoke English very im- 
 perfectly. There was a Catholic family in the village, old 
 maiden ladies we used to think ; but I knew nothing about 
 them. I have of late years heard that there were one or 
 two Catholic boj^s in the school ; but either we were care- 
 fully kept from knowing this, or the knowledge of it made 
 simply no impression on our minds. My brother will bear 
 witness how free the school was from Catholic ideas. 
 
 I had once been into Warv/ick Street Chapel, with my 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 3 
 
 father, who, I believe, wanted to hear some piece of 
 music ; all that I bore away from it was the recollection of 
 a pulpit and a preacher, and a boy swinging a censer. 
 
 When I was at Littlemore, I was looking over old copy- 
 books of my school days, and I found among them my first 
 Latin verse- book ; and in the first page of it there was a 
 device which almost took my breath away with surprise. 
 I have the book before me now, and have just been show- 
 ing it to others. I have written in the first page, in my 
 school-boy hand, "John H. Newman, February 11th, 
 1811, Yerse Book ; " then follow my first Yerses. Between 
 " Yerse " and '' Book " I have drawn the figure of a solid 
 cross upright, and next to it is, what may indeed be meant 
 for a necklace, but what I cannot make out to be anything 
 else than a set of beads suspended, with a little cross 
 attached. At this time I was not quite ten yjears old. I 
 suppose I got these ideas from some romance, Mrs. Ead- 
 clifie's or Miss Porter's ; or from some religious picture ; 
 but the strange thing is, how, among the thousand objects 
 which meet a boy's eyes, these in particular should so have 
 fixed themselves in my mind, that I made them thus prac- 
 tically my own. I am certain there was nothing in the 
 churches I attended, or the prayer books I read, to suggest 
 them. It must be recollected that Anglican churches 
 and prayer books were not decorated in those days as I 
 beheve they are now. 
 
 When I was fourteen, I read Paine's Tracts against the 
 Old Testament, and found pleasure in thinking of the 
 objections which were contained in them. Also, I read 
 some of Hume's Essays ; and perhaps that on Miracles. 
 So at least I gave my Father to understand ; but perhaps 
 it was a brag. Also, I recollect copying out some French 
 verses, perhaps Yoltaire's, in denial of the immortality of 
 the soul, and saying to myself something like " How 
 dreadful, but how plausible ! " 
 
4: HISTORY or MY HELIGIOUS OPINIO^'S 
 
 When I was fifteen, (in the autumn of 1816,) a great 
 change of thought took place in me. I fell under the 
 influences of a definite Creed, and received into my intel- 
 lect impressions of dogma, which, through God's mercy, 
 have never been efiaced or obscured. Above and beyond 
 the conversations and sermons of the excellent man, long 
 dead, the Rev. Walter Mayers, of Pembroke College, Ox- 
 ford, who was the human means of this beginning of 
 divine faith in me, was the effect of the books which he 
 put into my hands, all of the school of Calvin. One of the 
 first books I read was a work of Ilomaine's ; I neither re- 
 collect the title nor the contents, except one doctrine, 
 which of course I do not include among those which I 
 believe to have come from a divine source, viz. the doc- 
 trine of final perseverance. I received it at once, and 
 believed that the inward conversion of which I was con- 
 scious, (and of which I still am more certain than that I 
 have hands and feet,) would last into the next life, and 
 that I was elected to eternal glory. I have no conscious- 
 ness that this belief had any tendency whatever to lead 
 me to be careless about pleasing God. I retained it till 
 the age of twenty-one, when it gradually faded away ; but 
 I believe that it had some influence on my opinions, in the 
 direction of those childish imaginations which I have 
 already mentioned, viz. in isolating me from the objects 
 which surrounded me, in confirming me in my mistrust of 
 the reality of material phenomena, and making me rest in 
 the thought of two and two onl}^ absolute and luminously 
 self-evident beings, myself and my Creator ; — for while I 
 considered myself predestined to salvation, my mind did 
 not dwell upon others, as fancying them simply passed 
 over, not predestined to eternal death. I only thought of 
 the mercy to mj^self. 
 
 The detestable doctrine last mentioned is simply denied 
 and abjured, unless my memory strangely deceives me, by 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 5 
 
 the writer who made a deeper imj)ression on my mind than 
 any other, and to whom (humanly speaking) I ahnost owe 
 my soul, — Thomas Scott of Aston Sandford. I so admired 
 and delighted in his writings, that, when I was an under- 
 graduate, I thought of maldng a visit to his Parsonage, in 
 order to see a man whom I so deeply revered. I hardly 
 think I could have given up the idea of this expedition, 
 even after I had taken my degree ; for the news of his 
 death in 1821 came upon me as a disappointment as well 
 as a sorrow. I hung upon the Kps of Daniel Wilson, 
 afterwards Bishop of Calcutta, as in two sermons at St. 
 John's Chapel he gave the history of Scott's life and death. 
 I had been possessed of his " Force of Truth " and Essays 
 from a boy ; his Commentary I bought when I was an 
 under- graduate. 
 
 What, I suppose, will strike any reader of Scott's his- 
 tory and writings, is his bold unworldliness and vigorous 
 independence of mind. He followed truth wherever it led 
 him, beginning with Unitarianism, and ending in a zealous 
 faith in the Holy Trinity. It was he who first planted 
 deep in my mind that fundamental truth of religion. With 
 the assistance of Scott's Essays, and the admirable work of 
 Jones of Nayland, I made a collection of Scripture texts 
 in proof of the doctrine, with remarks (I think) of my own 
 upon them, before I was sixteen ; and a few months later 
 I drew up a series of texts in support of each verse of the 
 Athanasian Creed. These papers I have still. 
 
 Besides his unworldliness, what I also admired in Scott 
 was his resolute opposition to Antinomianism, and the 
 minutely practical character of his writings. They show 
 him to be a true Englishman, and I deeply felt his influ- 
 ence ; and for years I used almost as proverbs what I con- 
 sidered to be the scope and issue of his doctrine, " Holiness 
 rather than peace," and *' Growth the only evidence of 
 Hfe.'^ 
 
6 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 Calvinists make a sliarp separation between the elect 
 and the world; there is much in this that is cognate or 
 parallel to the Catholic doctrine ; but they go on to say, 
 as I understand them, very differently from Catholicism, — 
 that the converted and the unconverted can be discrimi- 
 nated by man, that the justified are conscious of their state 
 of justification, and that the regenerate cannot fall away. 
 Catholics on the other hand shade and soften the awful 
 antagonism between good and evil, which is one of their 
 dogmas, by holding that there are different degrees of 
 justification, that there is a great difference in point of 
 gravity between sin and sin, that there is the possibility 
 and the danger of falling away, and that there is no cer- 
 tain knowledge given to any one that he is simply in a 
 state of grace, and much less that he is to persevere to the 
 end: — of the Calvinistic tenets the only one which took 
 root in my mind was the fact of heaven and hell, divine 
 favour and divine wrath, of the justified and the unjusti- 
 fied. The notion that the regenerate and the justified 
 were one and the same, and that the regenerate, as such, 
 had the gift of perseverance, remained with me not many 
 years, as I have said already. 
 
 This main Catholic doctrine of the warfare between the 
 city of God and the powers of darkness was also deeply 
 impressed upon my mind by a work of a character very 
 opposite to Calvinism, Law's " Serious Call." 
 
 From this time I have held with a full inward assent 
 and belief the doctrine of eternal punishment, as delivered 
 by our Lord Himself, in as true a sense as I hold that of 
 eternal happiness ; though I have tried in various ways to 
 make that truth less terrible to the intellect. 
 
 Now I come to two other works, which produced a deep 
 impression on me in the same Autumn of 1816, when I 
 was fifteen years old, each contrary to each, and planting 
 in me the seeds of an intellectual inconsistency which 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 7 
 
 disabled roe for a long course of years. I read Joseph 
 Milner's Church Historj^, and was nothing short of 
 enamoured of the long extracts from St. Augustine, St. 
 Ambrose, and the other Fathers which I found there. I 
 read them as being the religion of the primitive Christians : 
 but simultaneously with Milner I read Xewton on the 
 Prophecies, and in consequence became most firmly con- 
 vinced that the Pope was the Antichrist predicted by 
 Daniel, St. Paul, and St. John. My imagination was 
 stained by the effects of this doctrine up to the year 1843 ; 
 it had been obliterated from my reason and judgment at 
 an earlier date ; but the thought remained upon me as a 
 sort of false conscience. Hence came that conflict of mind, 
 which so many have felt besides myself; — leading some 
 men to make a compromise between two ideas, so incon- 
 sistent with each other, — driving others to beat out the 
 one idea or the other from their minds, — and. ending in 
 my own case, after many years of intellectual unrest, in 
 the gradual decay and extinction of one of them, — I do 
 not say in its violent death, for why should I not have 
 murdered it sooner, if I murdered it at all ? 
 
 I am obliged to mention, though I do it with great 
 reluctance, another deep imagination, which at this time, 
 the autumn of 1816, took possession of me, — there can be 
 no mistake about the fact ; viz. that it would be the will 
 of God that I should lead a single life. This anticipation, 
 which has held its ground almost continuously ever since, 
 — with the break of a month now and a month then, up to 
 1829, and, after that date, without any break at all, — was 
 more or less connected in my mind with the notion, that 
 my calling in life would require such a sacrifice as celibacy 
 involved; as, for instance, missionary work among tha 
 heathen, to which I had a great drawing for some years. 
 It also strengthened my feeling of separation from tho 
 visible world, of which I have spoken above. 
 
8 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 In 1822 I came tinder very different influences from 
 those to which I had hitherto been subjected. At that 
 time, Mr. Whately, as he was then, afterwards Arch- 
 bishop of Dublin, for the few months he remained in 
 Oxford, which he was leaving for good, showed great 
 kindness to me. He renewed it in 1825, when he became 
 Principal of Alban Hall, making me his Vice-Principal 
 and Tutor. Of Dr. Whately I will speak presently : for 
 from 1822 to 1825 I saw most of the present Provost of 
 Oriel, Dr. Hawkins, at that time Yicar of St. Mary's ; and, 
 when I took orders in 1824 and had a curacy in Oxford, 
 then, during the Long Vacations, I was especially thrown 
 into his company. I can say with a full heart that I love 
 him, and have never ceased to love him ; and I thus pre- 
 face what otherwise might sound rude, that in the course 
 of the many years in which we were together afterwards, 
 he provoked me very much from time to time, though I 
 am perfectly certain that I have provoked him a great 
 deal more. Moreover, in me such provocation was unbe- 
 coming, both because he was the Head of my College, and 
 because, in the first years that I knew him, he had been 
 in many ways of great service to my mind. 
 
 He was the first who taught me to weigh my words, 
 and to be cautious in my statements. He led me to that 
 mode of limiting and clearing my sense in discussion and 
 in controversy, and of distinguishing between cognate 
 ideas, and of obviating mistakes by anticipation, which to 
 my surprise has been since considered, even in quarters 
 friendly to me, to savour of the polemics of Piome. He is 
 a man of most exact mind himself, and he used to snub 
 me severely, on reading, as he was kind enough to do, the 
 first Sermons that I wrote, and other compositions which 
 I was engaged upon. 
 
 Then as to doctrine, he was the means of great additions 
 to my belief. As I have noticed elsewhere, he gave me 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. ^ 
 
 the "Treatise on Apostolical Preaching," by Sumner, 
 afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, from which I was 
 led to give up my remaining Calvinism, and to receive the 
 doctrine of Baptismal Regeneration. In many other ways 
 too he was of use to me, on subjects semi-religious and 
 semi-scholastic. 
 
 It was Dr. Hawkins too who taught me to anticipate 
 that, before many years were over, there would be an 
 attack made upon the books and the canon of Scripture. I 
 was brought to the same belief by the conversation of 
 Mr. Blanco White, who also led me to have freer views 
 on the subject of inspiration than were usual in the Church 
 of England at the time. 
 
 There is one other principle, which I gained from Dr. 
 Hawkins, more directly bearing upon Catholicism, than 
 any that I have mentioned ; and that is the doctrine of 
 Tradition. When I was an Under-graduate, I heard him 
 preach in the University Pulpit his celebrated sermon on 
 the subject, and recollect how long it appeared to me, 
 though he was at that time a very striking preacher; but, 
 when I read it and studied it as his gift, it made a most 
 serious impression upon me. He does not go one step, I 
 think, beyond the high Anglican doctrine, nay he does not 
 reach it ; but he does his work thoroughl}", and his view was 
 in him original, and his subject was a novel one at the 
 time. He laj^s down a proposition, self-evident as soon as 
 stated, to those who have at all examined the structure of 
 Scripture, viz. that the sacred text was never intended to 
 teach doctrine, but only to prove it, and that, if we would 
 learn doctrine, we must have recourse to the formularies 
 of the Church ; for instance to the Catechism, and to the 
 Creeds. He considers, that, after learning from them the 
 doctrines of Christianity, the inquirer must verify them by 
 Scripture. This view, most true in its outline, most fruit- 
 ful in its consequences, opened upon me a large field of 
 
10 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 thought. Dr. "Whately held it too. One of its effects was 
 to strike at the root of the principle on which the Bible 
 Society was set up. I belonged to its Oxford Association ; 
 it became a matter of time when I should withdraw my 
 name from its subscription-list, though I did not do so at 
 once. 
 
 It is with pleasure that I pay here a tribute to the 
 memory of the Eev. William James, then Fellow of Oriel ; 
 who, about the year 1823, taught me the doctrine of 
 Apostolical Succession, in the course of a walk, I think, 
 round Christ Church meadow ; I recollect being somewhat 
 impatient of the subject at the time. 
 
 It was at about this date, I suppose, that I read 
 Bishop Butler's Analogy ; the study of which has been to 
 so many, as it was to me, an era in their religious opinions. 
 Its inculcation of a visible Church, the oracle of truth and 
 a pattern of sanctity, of the duties of external religion, and 
 of the historical character of Revelation, are characteristics 
 of this great work which strike the reader at once ; for 
 myself, if I may attempt to determine what I most gained 
 from it, it lay in two points, which I shall have an oppor- 
 tunity of dwelling on in the sequel ; they are the under- 
 lying principles of a great portion of my teaching. First, 
 the very idea of an analogy between the separate works of 
 God leads to the conclusion that the system which is of 
 less importance is economically or sacramentally connected 
 with the more momentous system \ and of this conclusion 
 the theory, to which I was inclined as a boy, viz. the un- 
 reality of material phenomena, is an ultimate resolution. 
 At this time I did not make the distinction between 
 matter itself and its phenomena, which is so necessary and 
 so obvious in discussing the subject. Secondly, Butler's 
 doctrine that Probability is the guide of life, led me, at 
 
 ^ It is significant that Butler begins his work with a quotation from Origen. 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 11 
 
 least under the teaching to which a few years later I was 
 introduced, to the question of the logical cogency of Faith, 
 on which I have written so much. Thus to Butler I trace 
 those two principles of my teaching, which have led to a 
 charge against me both of fancifulness and of scepticism. 
 
 And now as to Dr. Whately. I owe him a great deal. 
 He was a man of generous and warm heart. He was 
 particularly loyal to his friends, and to use the common 
 phrase, "all his geese were swans." While I was still 
 awkward and timid in 1822, he took me by the hand, and 
 acted towards me the part of a gentle and encouraging 
 instructor. He, emphatically, opened my mind, and 
 taught me to think and to use my reason. After being 
 first noticed by him in 1822, I became very intimate with 
 him in 1825, when I was his Yice-Principal at Alban 
 Hall. I gave up that office in 1826, when I became Tutor 
 of my College, and his hold upon me gradually relaxed. 
 He had done his work towards me or nearly so, when he 
 had taught me to see with my own eyes and to walk with 
 my own feet. Kot that I had not a good deal to learn 
 from others still, but I influenced them as well as they me, 
 and co-operated rather than merely concurred with them. 
 As to Dr. Whately, his mind was too difierent from mine 
 for us to remain long on one line. I recollect how dis- 
 satisfied he was with an Article of mine in the London 
 E,eview, which Blanco White, good-humouredh", only 
 called Platonic. When I was diverging from him in 
 opinion (which he did not like), I thought of dedicating 
 my first book to him, in words to the efiect that he had 
 not only taught me to think, but to think for myself. He 
 left Oxford in 1831 ; after that, as far as I can recollect, 
 I never saw him but twice, — when he visited the Univer- 
 sity ; once in the street in 1834, once in a room in 1838. 
 From the time that he left, I have always felt a real afiec- 
 tion for what I must call his memory ; for, at least from 
 
12 HISTOEY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPlNIOiXS 
 
 the year 1834, he made himself dead to me. He had 
 practicall}^ indeed given me up from the time that he be- 
 came Archbishop in 1831 ; but in 1834 a correspondence 
 took place between us, which, though conducted especially 
 on his side in a friendly spirit, was the expression of dif- 
 ferences of opinion which acted as a final close to our inter- 
 course. My reason told me that it was impossible we could 
 have got on together longer, had he stayed in Oxford ; yet 
 I loved him too much to bid him farewell without pain. 
 After a few" years had passed, I began to believe that his 
 influence on me in a higher respect than intellectual 
 advance, (I will not say through his fault,) had not been 
 satisfactory. I believe that he has inserted sharp things 
 in his later w^orks about me. They have never come in 
 my way, and I have not thought it necessary to seek out 
 what would pain me so much in the reading. 
 
 What he did for me in point of religious opinion, was, 
 first, to teach me the existence of the Church, as a substan- 
 tive body or corporation ; next to fix in me those anti • 
 Erastian views of Church polity, which were one of the 
 most prominent features of the Tractarian movement. On 
 this point, and, as far as I know, on this point alone, 
 he and Hurrell Froude intimately sympathized, though 
 Fronde's development of opinion here was of a later date. 
 In the year 1826, in the course of a walk, he said much to 
 me about a work then just published, called "Letters on 
 the Church by an Episcopalian.'' He said that it would 
 make my blood boil. It was certainly a most powerful 
 composition. One of our common friends told me, that, 
 after reading it, he could not keep still, but went on walk- 
 ing up and down his room. It was ascribed at once to 
 Whately; I gave eager expression to the contrary opinion; 
 but I found the belief of Oxford in the afiirmative to be 
 too strong for me ; rightly or wrongl}^ I ^^elded to the 
 general voice ; and I have never heard, then or since, 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 13 
 
 of any disclaimer of authorsliip on the part of Dr. 
 Whately. 
 
 The main positions of this able essay are these ; first that 
 Church and State should be independent of each other : — 
 he speaks of the duty of protesting *' against the profana- 
 tion of Christ's kingdom, by that double itsurpatioriy the 
 interference of the Church in temporals, of the State in 
 spirituals," p. 191 ; and, secondly, that the Church may 
 justly and by right retain its property, though separated 
 from the State. " The clergy," he says p. 133, '' though 
 they ought not to be the hired servants of the Civil 
 Magistrate, may justly retain their revenues ; and the 
 State, though it has no right of interference in spiritual 
 concerns, not only is justly entitled to support from the 
 ministers of religion, and from all other Christians, but 
 would, tmder the system I am recommending, obtain it 
 much more effectually." The author of this work, who- 
 ever he may be, argues out both these points with great 
 . force and ingenuitj^, and with a thoroughgoing vehemence, 
 which perhaps we may refer to the circumstance, that he 
 wrote, not in propria persona, and as thereby answerable for 
 every sentiment that he advanced, but in the professed 
 character of a Scotch Episcopalian. His work had a 
 gradual, but a deep effect on my mind. 
 
 I am not aware of any other religious opinion which I 
 owe to Dr. Whately. In his special theological tenets I 
 had no sympathy. In the next year, 1827, he told me he 
 considered that I was Arianizing. The case was this : 
 though at that time I had not read Bishop Bull's De/ensio 
 nor the Fathers, I was just then very strong for that ante- 
 Nicene view of the Trinitarian doctrine, which some 
 writers, both Catholic and non-Catholic, have accused of 
 wearing a sort of Arian exterior. This is the meaning of 
 a passage in Fronde's Remains, in which he seems to accuse 
 me of •speaking against the Athanasian Creed. I had 
 
14 HISTOllY OF UY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 contrasted tlie two aspects of the Trinitarian doctrine, 
 which are respectively presented by the Athanasian Creed 
 and the Nicene. My criticisms were to the effect that 
 some of the verses of the former Creed were unnecessarily 
 scientific. This is a specimen of a certain disdain for Anti- 
 quity which had been growing on me now for several years. 
 It showed itself in some flippant language against the 
 Fathers in the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana, about whom 
 I knew little at the time, except what I had learnt as a 
 boy from Joseph Milner. In writing on the Scripture 
 Miracles in 1825-6, I had read Middleton on the Miracles 
 of the early Church, and had imbibed a portion of his 
 spirit. 
 
 The truth is, I was beginning to prefer intellectual 
 excellence to moral ; I was drifting in the direction of the 
 Liberalism of the day \ I was rudely awakened from my 
 dream at the end of 1827 by two great blows— illness and 
 bereavement. 
 
 In the beginning of 1829, came the formal break between 
 Dr. Whately and me ; the affair of Mr. Peel's re-election 
 was the occasion of it. I think in 1828 or 1827 I had 
 voted in the minority, when the Petition to Parliament 
 against the Catholic Claims was brought into Convocation. 
 I did so mainly on the yiews suggested to me in the 
 Letters of an Episcopalian. Also I shrank from the bigoted 
 "two-bottle-orthodox," as they were invidiously called. 
 "When then I took part against Mr. Peel, it was on an 
 academical, not at all an ecclesiastical or a political 
 ground; and this I professed at the time. I considered 
 that Mr. Peel had taken the University by surprise ; that 
 his friends had no right to call upon us to turn round on a 
 sudden, and to expose ourselves to the imputation of time- 
 serving; and that a great University ought not to be bullied 
 
 1 ViJe Note A, Liberalise}, at the end of the volume. 
 
TO TKE YEAR 1833. 15 
 
 even by a great Duke of AYellington. Also by tbis time 
 I was under the influence of Keble and Froude ; who, in 
 addition to the reasons I have given, disliked tbe Duke's 
 change of policy as dictated by Kberalism. 
 
 Whately was considerably annoyed at me, and he took 
 a humourous revenge, of which he had given me due 
 notice beforehand. As head of a house he had duties of 
 hospitality to men of all parties ; he asked a set of the 
 least intellectual men in Oxford to dinner, and men most 
 fond of port ; he made me one of this party ; placed me 
 between Provost This and Principal That, and then asked 
 me if I was proud of my friends. However, he had a 
 serious meaning in his act ; he saw, more clearly than I 
 could do, that I was separating from his own friends for 
 good and all. 
 
 Dr. Whately attributed my leaving his cUentela to a wish 
 on my part to be the head of a party myself. I do not think 
 that this charge was deserved. My habitual feeling then 
 and since has been, that it was not I who sought friends, 
 but friends who sought me. Never man had kinder or 
 more indulgent friends than I have had ; but I expressed 
 my own feeling as to the mode in which I gained them, in 
 this very year 1829, in the course of a copy of verses. 
 Speaking of my blessings, I said, "■ Blessings of friends, 
 which to my door tinaskedj iinJioped, have come.'' They 
 have come, they have gone ; they came to my great joy, 
 they went to my great grief. He who gave took away. 
 Dr. Whately's impression about me, however, admits of 
 this explanation : — 
 
 During the first years of my residence at Oriel, though 
 proud of my College, I was not quite at home there. I was 
 very much alone, and I used often to take my daily walk 
 by myself. I recollect once meeting Dr. Copleston, then 
 Provost, with one of the Fellows. He turned roimd, and 
 with the kind courteousness which sat so well on him, 
 
16 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOL'S OPINIONS 
 
 made me a bow and said, *' Nimquam minus solus, quam 
 ciim solus." At that time indeed (from 1823) I had the 
 intimacy of my dear and true friend Dr. Puscy, and could 
 not fail to admire and revere a soul so devoted to the cause 
 of religion, so full of good works, so faithful in his aiiec- 
 tions ; but he left residence when I was getting to know 
 him well. As to Dr. Whately himself, he was too much 
 my superior to allow of my being at my ease with him ; 
 and to no one in Oxford at this time did I open my heart 
 fully and familiarly. But things changed in 1826. At 
 that time I became one of the Tutors of my College, and 
 this gave me position ; besides, I had written one or two 
 Essays which had been well received. I began to be 
 known. I preached my first University Sermon. 'Nex.t 
 year I was one of the Public Examiners for the B.A. degree. 
 In 1828 I became Vicar of St. Mary's. It was to me like the 
 feeling of spring weather after winter; and, if I may so 
 speak, I came out of my shell; I remained out of it till 1841. 
 The two persons who knew me best at that time are still 
 alive, beneficed clergymen, no longer my friends. The}' 
 could tell better than any one else what I was in those 
 years. From this time my tongue was, as it were, 
 loosened, and I spoke spontaneously and without effort. 
 One of the two, a shrewd man, said of me, I have been told, 
 " Here is a fellow who, when he is silent, will never begin 
 to speak ; and when he once begins to speak, will never 
 stop." It was at this time that I began to have influence, 
 which steadily increased for a course of years. I gained 
 upon my pupils, and was in particular iiitimate and affec- 
 tionate with two of our probationer Fellows, Robert Isaac 
 Wilberforce (afterwards Archdeacon) and Richard Hurrell 
 Froude. AYhately then, an acute man, perhaps saw around 
 me the signs of an incipient party, of which I was not 
 conscious myself. And thus we discern the first elements 
 of that movement afterwards called Tractarian. 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 17 
 
 The true and primary author of it, however, as is usual 
 with great motive-powers, was out of sight. Having 
 carried off as a mere boy the highest honours of the Uni- 
 versity, he had turned from the admiration which haunted 
 his steps, and sought for a better and holier satisfaction in 
 pastoral work in the country. Need I say that I am 
 speaking of John Keble ? The first time that I was in a 
 room with him was on occasion of my election to a fellow- 
 ship at Oriel, when I was sent for into the Tower, to shake 
 hands with the Provost and Fellows. How is that hour 
 fixed in my memory after the changes of forty-two years, 
 forty- two this very day on which I write ! I have lately 
 had a letter in my hands, which I sent at the time to my 
 great friend, John William Bowden, with whom I passed 
 almost exclusively my Under- graduate years. " I had to 
 hasten to the Tower," I say to him, '' to receive the con- 
 gratulations of all the Fellows. I bore it till Keble took 
 my hand, and then felt so abashed and unworthy of the 
 honour done me, that I seemed desirous of quite sinking 
 into the ground.'' His had been the first name which I 
 had heard spoken of, with reverence rather than admira- 
 tion, when I came up to Oxford. When one day I was 
 walking in High Street with my dear earliest friend just 
 mentioned, with what eagerness did he cry out, ^' There's 
 Keble ! " and with what awe did I look at him ! Then 
 at another time I heard a Master of Arts of my College 
 give an account how he had just then had occasion to in- 
 troduce himself on some business to Keble, and how 
 gentle, courteous, and unaffected Keble had been, so as 
 almost to put him out of countenance. Then too it was 
 reported, truly or falsely, how a rising man of brilliant 
 reputation, the present Dean of St. Paul's, Dr. Milman, 
 admired and loved him, adding, that somehow he was 
 strangely unlike any one else. However, at the time 
 when I was elected Fellow of Oriel he was not in resi- 
 
 c 
 
18 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 dence, and he was shy of me for years in consequence of 
 the marks which I bore upon me of the evangelical and 
 liberal schools. At least so I have ever thought. Hurrell 
 Froude brought us together about 1828 : it is one of the 
 sayings preserved in his " Remains," — " Do you know the 
 story of the murderer who had done one good thing in his 
 life ? Well ; if I was ever asked what good deed I had 
 ever done, I should say that I had brought Keble and 
 IsTewman to imderstand each other." 
 
 The Christian Year made its appearance in 1827. It is 
 not necessary, and scarcely becoming, to praise a book 
 which has already become one of the classics of the lan- 
 guage. When the general tone of religious literature was 
 so nerveless and impotent, as it was at that time, Keble 
 struck an original note and woke up in the hearts of 
 thousands a new music, the music of a school, long un- 
 known in England. Nor can I pretend to analyze, in my 
 own instance, the effect of religious teaching so deep, so 
 pure, so beautiful. I have never till now tried to do so ; 
 5^et I think I am not wrong in saying, that the two main 
 intellectual truths which it brought home to me, were the 
 same two, which I had learned from Butler, though recast 
 in the creative mind of my new master. The first of these 
 was what may be called, in a large sense of the word, the 
 Sacramental system ; that is, the doctrine that material 
 phenomena are both the types and the instruments of real 
 things unseen, — a doctrine, which embraces in its fulness, 
 not only what Anglicans, as well as Catholics, believe about 
 Sacraments properly so called ; but also the article of " the 
 Communion of Saints;" and likewise the Mj'steries of 
 the faith. The connexion of this philosophy of religion 
 with what is sometimes called " Berkeleyism " has been 
 mentioned above ; I knew little of Berkeley at this time 
 except by name ; nor have I ever studied him. 
 
 On the second intellectual principle which I gained from 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 19 
 
 Mr. Keble, I could say a great deal ; if this were the place 
 for it. It runs through very much that I haA^e written, 
 and has gained for me many hard names. Butler teaches 
 us that probability is the guide of life. The danger of this 
 doctrine, in the case of many minds, is, its tendency to 
 destroy in them absolute certainty, leading them to con- 
 sider every conclusion as doubtful, and resolving truth into 
 an opinion, which it is safe indeed to obey or to profess, 
 but not possible to embrace with full internal assent. If 
 this were to be allowed, then the celebrated saying, '' 
 God, if there be a God, save my soul, if I have a soul ! " 
 would be the highest measure of devotion : — but who can 
 really pray to a Being, about whose existence he is 
 seriously in doubt ? 
 
 I considered that Mr. Keble met this difficulty by 
 ascribing the firmness of assent which we give to religious 
 doctrine, not to the probabilities which introduced it, but 
 to the living power of faith and love which accepted it. 
 In matters of religion, he seemed to say, it is not merely 
 probability which makes us intellectually certain, but pro- 
 bability as it is put to account by faith and love. It is 
 faith and love which give to probability a force which it 
 has not in itself. Faith and love are directed towards an 
 Object; in the vision of that Object they live ; it is that 
 Object, received in faith and love, which renders it rea- 
 sonable to take probability as sufficient for internal 
 conviction. Thus the argument from Probability, in 
 the matter of religion, became an argument from Per- 
 sonality, which in fact is one form of the argument from 
 Authority. 
 
 In illustration, Mr. Keble used to quote the words of the 
 Psalm : " I will guide thee with mine eye. Be ye not like 
 to l.orse and mule, which have no understanding ; whose 
 months must be held with bit and bridle, lest they 
 fall upon thee." This is the very difference, he used to 
 
20 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 ssij, between slaves, and friends or cliildren. Friends do 
 not ask for literal commands ; but, from their knowledge 
 of the speaker, they understand bis half- words, and from 
 love of bim tbey anticipate bis w^sbes. Hence it is, tbat 
 in bis Poem for St. Bartholomew's Day, be speaks of tbe 
 " Eye of God's word ;" and in tbe note quotes Mr. Miller, 
 of Worcester College, wbo remarks in bis Bampton Lec- 
 tures, on tbe special power of Scripture, as having " this 
 Eye, like tbat of a portrait, uniformly fixed upon us, turn 
 where we will." Tbe view thus suggested by Mr. Keble, 
 is brought forward in one of the earliest of tbe '' Tracts 
 for the Times." In 'No. 8 I say, " The Gospel is a Law of 
 Liberty. We are treated as sons, not as servants ; not 
 subjected to a code of formal commandments, but addressed 
 as those who love God, and wish to please Him." 
 
 I did not at all dispute this view of the matter, for I 
 made use of it myself ; but I was dissatisfied, because it did 
 not go to the root of the difficulty. It was beautiful and 
 religious, but it did not even profess to be logical ; and 
 accordingly I tried to complete it by considerations of my 
 own, which are to be found in my University Sermons, 
 Essay on Ecclesiastical Miracles, and Essay on Develop- 
 ment of Doctrine. My argument is in outline as follows : 
 tbat tbat absolute certitude which we were able to possess, 
 whether as to the truths of natural theology, or as to the 
 fact of a revelation, was the result of an assemhlage of con- 
 curring and converging probabilities, and tbat, both ac- 
 cording to tbe constitution of tbe human mind and tbe 
 will of its Maker ; that certitude was a habit of mind, tbat 
 certainty was a quality of propositions ; that probabilities 
 which did not reach to logical certainty, might suffice for a 
 mental certitude ; tbat tbe certitude thus brought about 
 might equal in measure and strength the certitude which 
 was created by the strictest scientific demonstration ; and 
 tbat to possess such certitude might in given cases and to 
 
TO THE YEAH 1833. 21 
 
 given individuals be a plain duty, thougli not to others in 
 other circumstances: — 
 
 Moreover, that as there were probabilities which sufficed 
 for certitude, so there were other probabilities which were 
 legitimately adapted to create opinion ; that it might be 
 quite as much a matter of duty in given cases and to given 
 persons to have about a fact an opinion of a definite 
 strength and consistency, as in the case of greater or of 
 more numerous probabilities it was a duty to have a certi- 
 tude ; that accordingly we were bound to be more or less 
 sure, on a sort of (as it were) graduated scale of assent, viz. 
 according as the probabilities attaching to a professed fact 
 were brought home to us, and as the case might be, to en- 
 tertain about it a pious belief, or a pious opinion, or a re- 
 ligious conjecture, or at least, a tolerance of such belief, or 
 opinion or conjecture in others; that on the other hand, as it 
 was a duty to have a belief, of more or less strong texture, 
 in given cases, so in other cases it was a duty not to be- 
 lieve, not to opine, not to conjecture, not even to tolerate 
 the notion that a professed fact was true, inasmuch as it 
 would be credulity or superstition, or some other moral 
 fault, to do so. This was the region of Private Judgment 
 in religion ; that is, of a Private Judgment, not formed 
 arbitrarily and according to one's fancy or liking, but con- 
 scientiously, and under a sense of duty. 
 
 Considerations such as these throw a new light on the 
 subject of Miracles, and they seem to have led me to re- 
 consider the view which I had taken of them in my Essay in 
 1825-6. I do not know what was the date of this change 
 in me, nor of the train of ideas on which it was founded. 
 That there had been already great miracles, as those of 
 Scripture, as the Resurrection, was a fact establishing the 
 principle that the laws of nature had sometimes been sus- 
 pended by their Divine Author, and since what had hap- 
 pened once might happen again, a certain probability, at 
 
22 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS 0PIN10^'S 
 
 least no kind of improbability, was attached to the idea 
 taken in itself, of miraculous intervention in later times, 
 and miraculous accounts were to be regarded in connexion 
 w^tb the verisimilitude, scope, instrument, character, testi- 
 mony, and circumstances, with which they presented them- 
 selves to us ; and, according to the final result of those 
 various considerations, it was our duty to be sure, or to be- 
 lieve, or to opine, or to surmise, or to tolerate, or to reject, 
 or to denounce. The main- difference between my Essay 
 on Miracles in 1826 and my Essay in 1842 is this : that in 
 1826 I considered that miracles were sharply divided into 
 two classes, those which were to be received, and those 
 which were to be rejected ; whereas in 1842 I saw that they 
 were to be regarded according to their greater or less pro- 
 bability, which was in some cases sufiQcient to create certi- 
 tude about them, in other cases only belief or opinion. 
 
 Moreover, the argument from Analogy, on which this 
 view of the question was founded, suggested to me some- 
 thing besides, in recommendation of the Ecclesiastical 
 Miracles. It fastened itself upon the theory of Church 
 History which I had learned as a boy from Joseph ^lilner. 
 It is Milner's doctrine, that upon the visible Church come 
 down from above, at certain intervals, large and temporary 
 Effusions of divine grace. This is the leading idea of his 
 work. He begins by speaking of the Day of Pentecost, as 
 marking " the first of those Effusions of the Spirit of God, 
 which from age to age have visited the earth since the 
 coming of Christ." Vol. i. p. 3. In a note he adds that 
 " in the term ' Effusion ' there is not here included the idea 
 of the miraculous or extraordinary operations of the Spirit 
 of God ;" but still it was natural for me, admitting Milner's 
 general theory, and applying to it the principle of analog}', 
 not to stop short at his abrupt ?^jse dixit, but boldly to pass 
 forward to the conclusion, on other grounds plausible, that 
 as miracles accorapanicd the first efiusion of grace, so they 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 23 
 
 might accompany the later. It is surely a natural and on 
 the whole, a true anticipation (though of course there are 
 exceptions in particular cases), that gifts and graces go 
 together ; now, according to the ancient Catholic doctrine, 
 the ffift of miracles was \iewed as the attendant and shadow 
 of transcendent sanctity : and moreover, since such sanctity 
 was not of every day's occurrence, nay further, since one 
 period of Church history differed widely from another, and, 
 as Joseph Milner would say, there have been generations 
 or centuries of degeneracy or disorder, and times of re^^ival, 
 and since one region might be in the mid-day of religious 
 fervour, and another in twilight or gloom, there was no 
 force in the popular argument, that, because we did not 
 see miracles with our own eyes, miracles had not happened 
 in former times, or were not now at this very time taking 
 place in distant places : — but I must not dwell longer on a 
 subject, to which in a few words it is impossible to do 
 justice \ 
 
 Hurrell Froude was a pupil of Keble's, formed by him, 
 and in turn reacting upon him. I knew him first in 1826, 
 and was in the closest and most affectionate friendship with 
 him from about 1829 till his death in 1836. He was a 
 man of the highest gifts, — so truly many-sided, that it 
 would be presumptuous in me to attempt to describe him, 
 except under those aspects in which he came before me. 
 Nor have I here to speak of the gentleness and tenderness 
 of nature, the playfulness, the free elastic force and graceful 
 versatility of mind, and the patient winning considerate- 
 ness in discussion, which endeared him to those to whom 
 he opened his heart ; for I am all along engaged upon 
 matters of belief and opinion, and am introducing others 
 into my narrative, not for their own sake, or because I love 
 
 * Vide note B, Ecclesiastical Miracles, at the end of the volume. 
 
24 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPI^JIONS 
 
 and have loved them, so much as because, and so far as, 
 they have influenced my theological views. In this respect 
 then, I speak of Hurrell Froude, — in his intellectual 
 aspect,— as a man of high genius, brimful and overflowing 
 with ideas and views, in him original, which were too 
 many and strong even for his bodily strength, and which 
 crowded and jostled against each other in their effort after 
 distinct shape and expression. And he had an intellect as 
 critical and logical as it was speculative and bold. Dying 
 prematurely, as he did, and in the conflict and transition- 
 state of opinion, his religious views never reached their 
 ultimate conclusion, by the very reason of their multi- 
 tude and their depth. His opinions arrested and in- 
 fluenced me, even when they did not gain my assent. 
 He professed openly his admiration of the Church of 
 Rome, and his hatred of the Reformers. He delighted 
 in the notion of an hierarchical system, of sacerdotal 
 power, and of full ecclesiastical liberty. He felt scorn of 
 the maxim, *' The Bible and the Bible only is the religion 
 of Protestants ;" and he gloried in accepting Tradition as 
 a main instrument of religious teaching. He had a high 
 severe idea of the intrinsic excellence of Virginity ; and he 
 considered the Blessed Virgin its great Pattern. He d.e-. 
 lighted in thinking of the Saints ; he had a vivid apprecia- 
 tion of the idea of sanctity, its possibility and its heights ; 
 and he was more than inclined to believe a large amount 
 of miraculous interference as occurring in the early and 
 middle ages. He embraced the principle of penance and 
 mortification. He had a deep devotion to the Peal Pre- 
 sence, in which he had a firm faith. He was powerfully 
 drawn to the Medieval Church, but not to the Primitive. 
 
 He had a keen insight into abstract truth ; but he was 
 an Englishman to the backbone in his severe adherence to 
 the real and the concrete. He had a most classical taste, 
 and a genius for philosophy and art ; and he was fond of 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 25 
 
 historical inquiry, and tlie politics of religion. He had no 
 turn for theology as such. He set no sufEcient value 
 on the writings of the Fathers, on the detail or develop- 
 ment of doctrine, on the definite traditions of the Church 
 viewed in their matter, on the teaching of the Ecumenical 
 Councils, or on the controversies out of which they arose. 
 He took an eager courageous view of things on the whole. 
 I should say that his power of entering into the minds of 
 others did not equal his other gifts ; he could not believe, 
 for instance, that I really held the Eoman Church to be 
 Antichristian. On many points he would not believe 
 but that I agreed with him, when I did not. He seemed 
 not to understand my difficulties. His were of a different 
 kind, the contrariety between theory and fact. He was a 
 high Tory of the Cavalier stamp, and was disgusted with 
 the Toryism of the opponents of the Beform Bill. He was 
 smitten with the love of the Theocratic Church ; he went 
 abroad and was shocked by the degeneracy which he 
 thought he saw in the Catholics of Italy. 
 
 It is difficult to enumerate the precise additions to my 
 theological creed which I derived from a friend to whom 
 I owe so much. He taught me to look with admiration 
 towards the Church of Home, and in the same degree to 
 dislike the Beformation. He fixed deep in me the idea 
 of devotion to the Blessed Virgin, and he led me gradually 
 to believe in the Beal Presence. 
 
 There is one remaining source of my opinions to be 
 mentioned, and that far from the least important. In 
 proportion as I moved out of the shadow of that liberalism 
 which had hung over my course, my early devotion towards 
 the Fathers returned ; and in the Long Vacation of 1828 
 I set about to read them chronologically, beginning with 
 St. Ignatius and St. Justin. About 1830 a proposal was 
 made to me by Mr. Hugh Bose, who with Mr. Lyall 
 
26 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 (afterwards Dean of Canterbury) was providing writers for 
 a Theological Library, to furnisb tliem witb a History of 
 the Principal Councils. I accepted it, and at once set to 
 work on the Council of Nicsea. It was to launch myself 
 on an ocean with currents innumerable ; and I was drifted 
 back first to the ante-Nicene history, and then to the 
 Church of Alexandria. The work at last appeared under 
 the title of " The Arians of the Fourth Century ;'* and 
 of its 422 pages, the first 117 consisted of introductory 
 matter, and the Council of Nicsea did not appear till the 
 254th, and then occupied at most twenty pages. 
 
 I do not know when I first learnt to consider that An- 
 tiquity was the true exponent of the doctrines of Chris- 
 tianity and the basis of the Church of England; but I 
 take it for granted that the works of Bishop Bull, which 
 at this time I read, were my chief introduction to this 
 principle. The course of reading, which I pursued in the 
 composition of my volume, was directly adapted to develope 
 it in my mind. What principally attracted me in the 
 ante-Mcene period was the great Church of Alexandria, 
 the historical centre of teaching in those times. Of Eome 
 for some centuries comparatively little is known. The 
 battle of Arianism was first fought in Alexandria ; Atha- 
 nasius, the champion of the truth, was Bishop of Alex- 
 andria ; and in his writings he refers to the great religious 
 names of an earlier date, to Origen, Dionysius, and others, 
 who were the glory of its see, or of its school. The broad 
 philosophy of Clement and Origen carried me away ; the 
 philosophy, not the theological doctrine ; and I have drawn 
 out some features of it in my volume, with the zeal and 
 freshness, but with the partiality, of a neophyte. Some 
 portions of their teaching, magnificent in themselves, came 
 like music to my inward ear, as if the response to ideas, 
 which, with little external to encourage them, I had 
 cherished so long. These were based on the mj'stical or 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 27 
 
 sacramental piinciple, and spoke of the various Economies 
 or Dispensations of the Eternal. I understood these 
 passages to mean that the exterior world, physical and his- 
 torical, was but the manifestation to our senses of realities 
 greater than itself. Nature was a parable : Scripture was 
 an allegory : pagan literature, philosophy, and mythology, 
 properly understood, were but a preparation for the Gos- 
 pel. The Greek poets and sages were in a certain sense 
 prophets; for ''thoughts beyond their thought to those 
 high bards were given.'* There had been a directly 
 divine dispensation granted to the Jews ; but there had 
 been in some sense a dispensation carried on in favour of 
 the Gentiles. He who had taken the seed of Jacob for 
 His elect people had not therefore east the rest of man- 
 kind out of His sight. In the fulness of time both Judaism 
 and Paganism had come to nought ; the outward frame- 
 work, which concealed yet suggested the Living Truth, 
 had never been intended to last, and it was dissolving 
 under the beams of the Sun of Justice which shone behind 
 it and through It. The process of change had been slow ; 
 it had been done not rashly, but by rule and measure, 
 '*at sundry times and in divers manners,'* first one dis- 
 closure and then another, till the whole evangelical doc- 
 trine was brought into full manifestation. And thus room 
 was made for the anticipation of further and deeper dis- 
 closures, of truths still under the veil of the letter, and in 
 their season to be revealed. The visible world still remains 
 without its divine interpretation ; Holy Church in her 
 sacraments and her hierarchical appointments, will re- 
 main, even to the end of the world, after all but a symbol 
 of those heavenly facts which fill eternity. Her mysteries 
 are but the expressions in human language of truths to. 
 which the human mind is unequal. It is evident how 
 much there was in all this in correspondence with the 
 thoughts which had attracted me when I was young, and 
 
28 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OFl^'lONS 
 
 with tlie doctrine wliich I have already associated with 
 the Analogy and the Christian Year. 
 
 It was, I suppose, to the Alexandrian school and to the 
 early Church, that I owe in particular what I definitely 
 held about the Angels. I viewed them, not only as the 
 ministers employed by the Creator in the Jewish and 
 Christian dispensations, as we find on the face of Scripture, 
 but as carrying on, as Scripture also implies, the Economy 
 of the Visible World. I considered them as the real 
 causes of motion, light, and life, and of those elementary 
 principles of the physical universe, which, when offered in 
 their developments to our senses, suggest to us the notion 
 of cause and effect, and of what are called the laws of 
 nature. This doctrine I have dra^Ti out in my Sermon 
 for Michaelmas day, written in 1831. I say of the Angels, 
 "Every breath of air and ray of light and heat, every 
 beautiful prospect, is, as it were, the skirts of their gar- 
 ments, the waving of the robes of those whose faces see 
 God." Again, I ask what would be the thoughts of a 
 man who, ''when examining a flower, or a herb, or a 
 pebble, or a ray of light, which he treats as something so 
 beneath him in the scale of existence, suddenly discovered 
 that he was in the presence of some powerful being who 
 was hidden behind the visible things he was inspecting, — 
 who, though concealing his wise hand, was giving them 
 their beauty, grace, and perfection, as being God's instru- 
 ment for the purpose, — nay, whose robe and ornaments 
 those objects were, which he was so eager to analyze ?" 
 and I therefore remark that " we may say with grateful 
 and simple hearts with the Three Holy Children, ' O all j^e 
 works of the Lord, &c., &c., bless ye the Lord, praise Him, 
 and magnify Him for ever.' " 
 
 Also, besides the hosts of evil spirits, I considered 
 there was a middle race, daifjiovia, neither in heaven, nor 
 in hell ; partially fallen, capricious, wayward ; noble or 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 29 
 
 crafty, benevolent or malicious, as the case miglit be. 
 These beings gave a sort of inspiration or intelligence to 
 races, nations, and classes of men. Hence the action of 
 bodies politic and associations, which is often so different 
 from that of the individuals who compose them. Hence 
 the character and the instinct of states and governments, 
 of religious communities and communions. I thought 
 these assemblages had their life in certain unseen Powers. 
 My preference of the Personal to the Abstract would 
 naturally lead me to this view. I thought it countenanced 
 by the mention of " the Prince of Persia " in the Prophet 
 Daniel ; and I think I considered that it was of such inter- 
 mediate beings that the Apocalypse spoke, in its notice of 
 *'the Angels of the Seven Churches." 
 
 In 1837 I made a further development of this doctrine. 
 I said to an intimate and dear friend, Samuel Francis 
 Wood, in a letter which came into my hands on his death, 
 "I have an idea. The mass of the Fath2rs (Justin, 
 Athenagoras, Irenseus, Clement, TertuUian, Origen, Lac- 
 tantius, Sulpicius, Ambrose, ISTazianzen,) hold that, though 
 Satan fell from the beginning, the Angels fell before the 
 deluge, falling in love with the daughters of men. This 
 has lately come across me as a remarkable solution of a 
 notion which I cannot help holding. Daniel speaks as if 
 each nation had its guardian Angel. I cannot but think 
 that there are beings with a great deal of good in them, 
 yet with great defects, who are the animating principles 
 
 of certain institutions, &c., &c Take England with 
 
 many high virtues, and yet a low Catholicism. It seems 
 to me that John Bull is a spirit neither of heaven nor hell 
 ..... Has not the Christian Church, in its parts, sur- 
 rendered itself to one or other of these simulations of the 
 truth ? . . . . How are we to avoid Scylla and Charybdis 
 and go straight on to the very image of Christ?" 
 &c., &c. 
 
30 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPIN^IONS 
 
 I am aware that what I have been saying will, with 
 many men, be doing credit to my imagination at the 
 expense of my judgment — " Hippoclides doesn't care ;" I 
 im not setting myself up as a pattern of good sense or of 
 any thing else : I am but giving a history of my opinions, 
 and that, with the view of showing that I have come by 
 them through intelligible processes of thought and honest 
 external means. The doctrine indeed of the Economy has 
 in some quarters been itself condemned as intrinsically 
 pernicious, — as if leading to lying and equivocation, when 
 applied, as I have applied it in my remarks upon it in my 
 History of the Arians, to matters of conduct. My answer 
 to this imputation I postpone to the concluding pages of 
 my Volume. 
 
 "While I was engaged in writing my work upon the 
 Arians, great events were happening at home and abroad, 
 which brought out into form and passionate expression 
 the various beliefs which had so gradually been winning 
 their way into my mind. Shortly before, there had been 
 a Eevolution in France; the Bourbons had been dis- 
 missed : and I held that it was unchristian for nations to 
 cast off their governors, and, much more, sovereigns who 
 had the divine right of inheritance. Again, the great 
 Reform Agitation was going on around me as I ^Tote. 
 The Whigs had come into power ; Lord Grey had told 
 the Bishops to set their house in order, and some of the 
 Prelates had been insulted and threatened in the streets of 
 London. The vital question was, how were we to keep the 
 Church from being liberalized? there was such apathy 
 on the subject in some quarters, such imbecile alarm in 
 others ; the true principles of Churchmanship seemed so 
 radically decayed, and there was such distraction in the 
 councils of the Clergy. Blomfield, the Bishop of London 
 of the day, an active and open-hearted man, had been 
 for years engaged in diluting the high orthodoxy of the 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 31 
 
 Churcli by the introduction of members of the Evangelical 
 body into places of influence and trust. He bad deeph^ 
 offended men who agreed in opinion with myself, by an 
 off-hand saying (as it was reported) to the effect that 
 belief in the Apostolical succession had gone out with the 
 Non-jurors. " We can count you/' he said to some of the 
 gravest and most venerated persons of the old school. 
 And the Evangelical party itself, with their late successes, 
 seemed to have lost that simplicity and unworldliness 
 which I admired so much in Milner and Scott. It was 
 not that I did not venerate such men as Ryder, the then 
 Bishop of Lichfield, and others of similar sentiments, who 
 were not yet promoted out of the ranks of the Clergy, but 
 I thought little of the Evangelicals as a class. I thought 
 they played into the hands of the Liberals. With the 
 Establishment thus divided and threatened, thus ignorant 
 of its true strength, I compared that fresh vigorous Power 
 of which I was reading in the first centuries. In her 
 triumphant zeal on behalf of that Primeval Mysterj^, to 
 which I had had so great a devotion from my youth, I 
 recognized the movement of my Spiritual Mother. " In- 
 cessu patuit Dea.'' The self-conquest of her Ascetics, the 
 patience of her Martyrs, the irresistible determination of 
 her Bishops, the joyous swing of her advance, both exalted 
 and abashed me. I said to myself, " Look on this picture 
 and on that ;" I felt affection for my own Church, but not 
 tenderness ; I felt dismay at her prospects, anger and 
 scorn at her do-nothing perplexity. I thought that if 
 Liberalism once got a footing within her, it was sure of 
 the victory in the event. I saw that Reformation princi- 
 ples were powerless to rescue her. As to lea\ing her, the 
 thought never crossed my imagination; still I ever kept 
 before me that there was something greater than the 
 Established Church, and that that was the Church Catho- 
 lic and Apostolic, set up from the beginning, of which 
 
32 HISTOHY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 she was but the local presence and the organ. She wa^? 
 nothing, unless she was this. She must be dealt with 
 strongly, or she would be lost. There was need of a 
 second reformation. 
 
 At this time I was disengaged from College duties, and 
 my health had suffered from the labour involved in the 
 composition of my Volume. It was ready for the Press 
 in July, 1832, though not published till the end of 1833. 
 I was easily persuaded to join Hurrell Froude and his 
 Father, who were going to the south of Europe for the 
 health of the former. 
 
 We set out in December, 1832. It was during this 
 expedition that my Verses which are in the Lyra Apo- 
 stolica were written ; — a few indeed before it, but not more 
 than one or two of them after it. Exchanging, as I was, 
 definite Tutorial work, and the literary quiet and pleasant 
 friendships of the last six years, for foreign countries and 
 an unknown future, I naturally was led to think that some 
 inward changes, as well as some larger course of action, 
 were coming upon me. At Whitchurch, while waiting 
 for the down mail to Falmouth, I wrote the verses about 
 my Guardian Angel, which begin with these words : *'Are 
 these the tracks of some unearthly Friend?" and which 
 go on to speak of *' the vision " which haunted me : — that 
 vision is more or less brought cut in the whole series of 
 these compositions. 
 
 I went to various coasts of the Mediterranean ; parted 
 with my friends at Rome ; went down for the second time 
 to Sicily without companion, at the end of April ; and got 
 back to England by Palermo in the early part of July. 
 The strangeness of foreign life threw me back into myself; 
 I found pleasure in historical sites and beautiful scenes, 
 not in men and manners. We kept clear of Catholics 
 throuo^hout our tour. I had a conversation with the Dean 
 of Malta, a most pleasant man, lately dead ; but it was 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 33 
 
 about the Fathers, and the Library of the great church. 
 I knew the Abbate Santini, at Eome, who did no more 
 than copy for me the Gregorian tones. Froude and I 
 made two calls upon Monsignore (now Cardinal) Wiseman 
 at the Collegio Inglese, shortly before we left Rome. Once 
 we heard him preach at a church in the Corso. I do not 
 recollect being in a room with any other ecclesiastics, 
 except a Priest at Castro- Giovanni in Sicily, who called 
 on me when I was ill, and with whom I wished to hold a 
 controversy. As to Church Services, we attended the 
 Tenebrse, at the Sestine, for the sake of the Miserere ; and 
 that was all. My general feeling was, "All, save the 
 spirit of man, is divine." I saw nothing but what was 
 external ; of the hidden life of Catholics I knew nothing. 
 I was still more driven back into myself, and felt my 
 isolation. England was in my thoughts solely, and the 
 news from England came rarely and imperfectly. The 
 Bill for the Suppression of the Irish Sees was in progress, 
 and filled my mind. I had fierce thoughts against the 
 Liberals. 
 
 It was the success of the Liberal cause which fretted me 
 inwardly. I became fierce against its instruments and its 
 manifestations. A French vessel was at Algiers ; I would 
 not even look at the tricolour. On my return, though 
 forced to stop twenty-four hours at Paris, I kept indoors 
 the whole time, and all that I saw of that beautiful city was 
 what I saw from the Diligence. The Bishop of London 
 had already sounded me as to my filling one of the White- 
 hall preacherships, which he had just then put on a new 
 footing; but I was indignant at the line which he was 
 taking, and from my Steamer I had sent home a letter 
 declining the appointment by anticipation, should it be 
 offered to me. At this time I was specially annoyed with 
 Dr. Arnold, though it did not last into later years. Some 
 one, I think, asked, in conversation at Rome, whether a 
 
 D 
 
34 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 certain interj)retatioii of Scripture was Christian ? it was 
 answered tliat Dr. Arnold took it ; I interposed, ^' But is 
 he a Christian?'* The subject went out of my head at 
 once ; when afterwards I was taxed with it, I could say 
 no more in explanation, than (what I believe was the 
 fact) that I must have had in mind some free views of 
 Dr. Arnold about the Old Testament : — I thought I must 
 have meant, "Arnold answers for the interpretation, but 
 who is to answer for Arnold?" It was at Rome, too, 
 that we began the Lyra Apostolica which appeared 
 monthly in the British Magazine. The motto shows the 
 feeling of both Froude and m3^self at the time : we 
 borrowed from M. Bunsen a Homer, and Froude chose 
 the words in which Achilles, on returning to the battle, 
 says, " You shall know the difference, now that I am back 
 again." 
 
 Especially when I was left by myself, the thought came 
 upon me that deliverance is wrought, not by the many but 
 by the few, not by bodies but by persons. Now it was, I 
 think, that I repeated to myself the words, which had 
 ever been dear to me from my school days, "Exoriare 
 aliquis!" — now too, that Southey's beautiful poem of 
 Thalaba, for which I had an immense liking, came 
 forcibly to my mind. I began to think that I had a 
 mission. There are sentences of my letters to my friends 
 to this effect, if they are not destroyed. When we took 
 leave of Monsignore Wiseman, he had courteously expressed 
 a wish that we might make a second visit to Rome ; I 
 said with great gravity, " We have a work to do in Eng- 
 land." I went down at once to Sicily, and the presenti- 
 ment grew stronger. I struck into the middle of the 
 island, and fell ill of a fever at Leonforte. My servant 
 thought that I was dying, and begged for my last directions. 
 I gave them, as he wished; but I said, *'I shall not die." 
 I repeated, " I shall not die, for I have not sinned against 
 
TO THE YEAR 1833. 35 
 
 light, I have not sinned against light." I never have 
 been able to make out at all what I meant. 
 
 I got to Castro- Giovanni, and was laid up there for 
 nearly three weeks. Towards the end of May I left for 
 Palermo, taking three days for the journey. Before start- 
 ing from my inn in the morning of May 26th or 27th, I 
 sat down on my bed, and began to sob bitterly. My 
 servant, who had acted as my nurse, asked what ailed 
 me. I could only answer him, *' I have a work to do in 
 England.'' 
 
 I was aching to get home; yet for want of a vessel I 
 was kept at Palermo for three weeks. I began to visit 
 the Churches, and they calmed my impatience, though I 
 did not attend any services. I knew nothing of the Pre- 
 sence of the Blessed Sacrament there. At last I got oif 
 in an orange boat, bound for Marseilles. Then it was 
 that I wrote the lines, "Lead, kindly light," which have 
 since become well known. We were becalmed a whole 
 week in the Straits of Bonifacio. I was writing verses the 
 whole time of my passage. At length I got to Marseilles, 
 and set off for Eno:land. The fatio^ue of travellins: was 
 too much for me, and I was laid up for several days at 
 Lyons. At last I got off again, and did not stop night or 
 day, (except a compulsory delay at Paris,) till I reached 
 England, and my mother's house. My brother had arrived 
 from Persia only a few hours before. This was on the 
 Tuesday. The following Sunday, July 14th, IMr. Keble 
 preached the Assize Sermon in the University Pulpit. It 
 was published under the title of "National Apostasy." 
 I have ever considered and kept the day, as the start of 
 the religious movement of 18313, 
 
 # 
 
3G HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS FROM 1833 TO 1839. 
 
 In spite of the foregoing pages, I have no romantic story 
 to tell ; but I have written them, because it is my duty to 
 tell things as they took place. I have not exaggerated 
 the feelings with which I returned to England, and I have 
 no desire to dress up the events which followed, so as to 
 make them in keeping with the narrative which has gone 
 before. I soon relapsed into the every-day life which I 
 had hitherto led ; in all things the same, except that a 
 new object was given me. I had employed myself in my 
 own rooms in reading and writing, and in the care of a 
 Church, before I left England, and I returned to the same 
 occupations when I was back again. And yet perhaps 
 those first vehement feelings which carried me on, were 
 necessary for the beginning of the Movement ; and after- 
 wards, when it was once begun, the special need of me 
 was over. 
 
 When I got home from abroad, I found that already a 
 movement had commenced, in opposition to the specific 
 danger which at that time was threatening the religion of 
 the nation and its Church. Several zealous and able men 
 had united their counsels, and were in correspondence with 
 each other. The principal of these were Mr. Keble, 
 Hurrell Froude, who had reached home long before me, 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 37 
 
 Mr. William Palmer of Dublin and Worcester College 
 (not Mr. William Palmer of Magdalen, who is now a 
 Catholic), Mr. Arthur Perceval, and Mr. Hugh Rose. 
 
 To mention Mr. Hugh Pose's name is to kindle in the 
 minds of those who knew him a host of pleasant and affec- 
 tionate remembrances. He was the man above all others 
 fitted by his cast of mind and literary powers to make a 
 stand, if a stand could be made, against the calamity of 
 the times. He was gifted with a high and large mind, 
 and a true sensibiKty of what was great and beautiful ; he 
 wrote with warmth and energy ; and he had a cool head 
 and cautious judgment. He spent his strength and short- 
 ened his life. Pro Ecclesia Dei, as he understood that 
 sovereign idea. Some years earlier he had been the first 
 to give warning, I think from the University Pulpit at 
 Cambridge, of the perils to England which lay in the 
 biblical and theological speculations of Germany. The 
 Peform agitation followed, and the Whig Government 
 came into power ; and he anticipated in their distribution 
 of Church patronage the authoritative introduction of 
 liberal opinions into the country. He feared that by the 
 Whig party a door would be opened in England to the 
 most grievous of heresies, which never could be closed 
 again. In order under such grave circumstances to unite 
 Churchmen together, and to make a front against the 
 coming danger, he had in 1832 commenced the British 
 Magazine, and in the same year he came to Oxford in the 
 summer term, in order to beat up for writers for his publi- 
 cation ; on that occasion I became known to him through 
 Mr. Palmer. His reputation and position came in aid of 
 his obvious fitness, in point of character and intellect, to 
 become the centre of an ecclesiastical movement, if such a 
 movement were to depend on the action of a party. His 
 delicate health, his premature death, would have frustrated 
 the expectation, even though the new school of opinion 
 
38 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 had been more exactly thrown into the shape of a party, 
 than in fact was the case. But he zealously backed up 
 the first efibrts of those who were principals in it ; and, 
 when he went abroad to die, in 1838, he allowed me the 
 solace of expressing my feelings of attachment and grati- 
 tude to him by addressing him, in the dedication of a 
 volume of my Sermons, as the man *' who, when hearts 
 were failing, bade us stir up the gift that was in us, and 
 betake ourselves to our true Mother." 
 
 But there were other reasons, besides Mr. Eose's state 
 of health, which hindered those who so much admired him 
 from availing themselves of his close co-operation in the 
 coming fight. United as both he and they were in the 
 general scope of the Movement, they were in discordance 
 wdth each other from the first in their estimate of the 
 means to be adopted for attaining it, Mr. Bose had a 
 position in the Church, a name, and serious responsibilities ; 
 he had direct ecclesiastical superiors ; he had intimate re- 
 lations with his own University, and a large clerical con- 
 nexion through the country. Froude and I were nobodies ; 
 with no characters to lose, and no antecedents to fetter us. 
 Eose could not go a-head across country, as Froude had 
 no scruples in doing. Froude was a bold rider, as on 
 horseback, so also in his speculations. After a long con- 
 versation with him on the logical bearing of his principles, 
 Mr. Bose said of him with quiet humour, that '' he did 
 not seem to be afra'id of inferences." It was simply the 
 truth ; Froude had that strong hold of first principles, and 
 that keen perception of their value, that he was compara- 
 tively indifierent to the revolutionary action which would 
 attend on their application to a given state of things ; 
 whereas in the thoughts of Bose, as a practical man, exist- 
 ing facts had the precedence of every other idea, and the 
 chief test of the soundness of a line of policy lay in the 
 consideration whether it wotdd work. This was one of 
 
FRo:^! 1833 TO 1839. 39 
 
 the first questions, which, as it seemed to me, on every 
 occasion occurred to his mind. With Froude, Erastianism, 
 — that is, the union (so he viewed it) of Church and State, 
 — was the parent, or if not the parent, the serviceable and 
 sufficient tool, of liberaKsm. Till that union was snapped. 
 Christian doctrine never could be safe ; and, while he well 
 knew how high and unselfish was the temper of Mr. Eose, 
 yet he used to apply to him an epithet, reproachful in his 
 own mouth ; — Eose was a " conservative.'^ By bad luck, 
 I brought out this word to Mr. Eose in a letter of my 
 own, which I wrote to him in criticism of something he 
 had inserted in his Magazine : I got a vehement rebuke 
 for my pains, for though Eose pursued a conservative line, 
 he had as high a disdain, as Froude could have, of a 
 worldly ambition, and an extreme sensitiveness of such an 
 imputation. 
 
 But there v/as another reason still, and a more elemen- 
 tary one, which severed Mr. Eose from the Oxford Move- 
 ment. Living movements do not come of committees, nor 
 are great ideas worked out through the post, even though 
 it had been the penny post. This principle deeply pene- 
 trated both Froude and myself from the first, and re- 
 commended to us the course which things soon took 
 spontaneously, and without set purpose of our own. Uni- 
 versities are the natural centres of intellectual movements. 
 How could men act together, whatever was their zeal, 
 unless they were united in a sort of individuality ? 'Now, 
 first, we had no unity of place. Mr. Eose was in Suffolk, 
 Mr. Perceval in Surrey, Mr. Keble in Gloucestershire ; 
 Hurrell Froude had to go for his health to Barbadoes. 
 Mr. Palmer was indeed in Oxford ; this was an important 
 advantage, and told well in the first months of the Move- 
 ment ; — but another condition, besides that of place, was 
 required. 
 
 A far more essential unity was that of antecedents,— a 
 
40 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPl^'TOXS 
 
 common history, common memories, an intercourse of 
 mind with mind in the past, and a progress and increase 
 in that intercourse in the present. Mr. Perceval, to be 
 sure, was a pupil of Mr. Keble's ; but Keble, Rose, and 
 Palmer, represented distinct parties, or at least tempers, 
 in the Establishment. Mr. Palmer had many conditions 
 of authority and influence. He was the only really learned 
 man among us. He understood theology as a science ; he 
 was practised in the scholastic mode of controversial 
 writing ; and, I believe, was as well acquainted, as he was 
 dissatisfied, with the Catholic schools. He was as decided 
 in his religious views, as he was cautious and even subtle 
 in their expression, and gentle in their enforcement. But 
 he was deficient in depth ; and besides, coming from a 
 distance, he never had really grown into an Oxford man, 
 nor was he generally received as such ; nor had he any 
 insight into the force of personal influence and congeniality 
 of thought in carrying out a religious theory,— a condition 
 which Froude and I considered essential to any true success 
 in the stand which had to be made against Liberalism. 
 Mr. Palmer had a certain connexion, as it may be called, 
 in the Establishment, consisting of high Church digni- 
 taries. Archdeacons, London Rectors, and the like, who 
 belonged to what was commonly called the high-and-dry 
 school. They were far more opposed than even he was to 
 the irresponsible action of individuals. Of course their 
 beau ideal in ecclesiastical action was a board of safe, sound, 
 sensible men. Mr. Palmer was their organ and represen- 
 tative; and he wished for a Committee, an Association, 
 with rules and meetings, to protect the interests of the 
 Church in its existing peril. He was in some measure 
 supported by Mr. Perceval. 
 
 I, on the other hand, had out of my own head begun 
 the Tracts ; and these, as representing the antagonist 
 principle of personality, were looked upon by Mr. Palmer's 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 41 
 
 friends witli considerable alarm. The great point at the 
 time with these good men in London, — some of them men 
 of the highest principle, and far from influenced by what 
 we used to call Erastianism, — was to put down the Tracts. 
 I, as their editor, and mainly their author, was of course 
 willing to give way. Keble and Froude advocated their 
 continnance strongly, and were angry with me for consent- 
 ing to stop them. Mr. Palmer shared the anxiety of his 
 own friends ; and, kind as were his thoughts of us, he still 
 not unnaturally felt, for reasons of his own, some fidget 
 and nervousness at the course which his Oriel friends were 
 taking. Froude, for whom he had a real liking, took a 
 high tone in his project of measures for dealing with 
 bishops and clergy, which must have shocked and scan- 
 dalized him considerably. As for me, there was matter 
 enough in the early Tracts to give him equal disgust ; and 
 doubtless I much tasked his generosity, when he had to 
 defend me, whether against the London dignitaries or the 
 country clergy. Oriel, from the time of Dr. Copleston to 
 Dr. Hampden, had had a name far and wide for liberality 
 of thought ; it had received a formal recognition from the 
 Edinburgh E-eview, if my memory serves me truly, as the 
 school of speculative philosophy in England ; and on one 
 occasion, in 1833, when I presented myself, with some of 
 the first papers of the Movement, to a country clergyman 
 in Northamptonshire, he paused awhile, and then, eyeing 
 me with significance, asked, *' Whether Whately was at 
 the bottom of them ?" 
 
 Mr. Perceval wrote to me in support of the judgment of 
 Mr. Palmer and the dignitaries. I replied in a letter, 
 which he afterwards published. "As to the Tracts," I 
 said to him (I quote my own words from his Pamphlet), 
 *' every one has his own taste. You object to some things, 
 another to others. If we altered to please every one, the 
 efiect would be spoiled. They were not intended as 
 
42 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 symbols e catJiedrd, but as the expression of individual 
 minds; and individuals, feeling strongl}^, while on the 
 one hand, they are incidentally faulty in mode or language, 
 are still peculiarly effective. No great work was done by 
 a system ; whereas sj^'stems rise out of individual exertions. 
 Luther was an individual. The very faults of an indivi- 
 dual excite attention ; he loses, but his cause (if good and 
 he powerful-minded) gains. This is the way of things ; 
 we promote truth by a self-sacrifice." 
 
 The visit which I made to the Northamptonshire Rec- 
 tor was only one of a series of similar expedients, which I 
 adopted during the year 1833. I called upon clergy in 
 various parts of the country, whether I was acquainted 
 with them or not, and I attended at the houses of friends 
 where several of them were from time to time assembled. 
 I do not think that much came of such attempts, nor were 
 they quite in my way. Also I wrote various letters to 
 clergymen, which fared not much better, except that they 
 advertised the fact, that a ralty in favour of the Church 
 was commencing. I did not care whether my visits were 
 made to high Church or low Church ; I wished to make a 
 strong pull in union with all who were opposed to the 
 principles of liberalism, whoever they might be. Giving 
 my name to the Editor, I commenced a series of letters in 
 the Record Newspaper : they ran to a considerable length ; 
 and were borne by him with great courtesy and patience. 
 The heading given to them was, " Church Eeform." The 
 first was on the revival of Church Discipline ; the second, 
 on its Scripture proof ; the third, on the application of the 
 doctrine ; the fourth was an answer to objections ; the 
 fifth was on the benefits of discipline. And then the 
 series was abruptly brought to a termination. I had said 
 what I really felt, and what was also in keeping with tlie 
 strong teaching of the Tracts, but I suppose the Editor 
 discovered in me some divergence from his own line of 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 43 
 
 tLonght ; for at length he sent a very civil letter, apolo- 
 gizing for the non-appearance of my sixth communication, 
 on the ground that it contained an attack upon " Tempe- 
 rance Societies," about which he did not Avish a controversy 
 in his columns. He added, however, his serious regret at 
 the theological views of the Tracts. I had subscribed a 
 small sum in 1828 towards the first start of the Record. 
 
 Acts of the officious character, which I have been de- 
 scribing, were uncongenial to my natural temper, to the 
 genius of the Movement, and to the historical mode of its 
 success : — thej^ were the fruit of that exuberant and joyous 
 energy with which I had returned from abroad, and which 
 I never had before or since. I had the exultation of health 
 restored, and home regained. While I was at Palermo 
 and thought of the breadth of the Mediterranean, and 
 the wearisome journpy across France, I could not imagine 
 how I was ever to get to England ; but now I was amid 
 familiar scenes and faces once more. And my health and 
 strength came back to me with such a rebound, that some 
 friends at Oxford, on seeing me, did not well know that it 
 was I, and hesitated before they spoke to me. And I had 
 the consciousness that I was employed in that work which 
 I had been dreaming about, and which I felt to be so mo- 
 mentous and inspiring. I had a supreme confidence in 
 our cause ; we were upholding that primitive Christianity 
 which was delivered for all time by the early teachers of 
 the Church, and which was registered and attested in the 
 Anglican formularies and by the Anglican divines. That 
 ancient religion had weU nigh faded away out of the land, 
 through the political changes of the last 150 years, and it 
 must be restored. It would be in fact a second Eeforma- 
 tion : — a better reformation, for it would be a return not 
 to the sixteenth century, but to the seventeenth. No 
 time was to be lost, for the Whigs had come to do their 
 worst, and the rescue might come too late. Bishopricks 
 
44 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 were already in course of suppression ; Church, property 
 was in course of confiscation ; Sees would soon be receiving 
 unsuitable occupants. We knew enough to begin preach- 
 ing upon, and there was no one else to preach. I felt as 
 on board a vessel, which first gets under weigh, and then 
 the deck is cleared out, and luggage and live stock stowed 
 away into their proper receptacles. 
 
 Nor was it onl}^ that I had confidence in our cause, both 
 in itself, and in its polemical force, but also, on the other 
 hand, I despised every rival system of doctrine and its argu- 
 ments too. As to the high Church and the low Church, 
 I thought that the one had not much more of a logical 
 basis than the other ; while I had a thorough contempt 
 for the controversial position of the latter. I had a real 
 respect for the character of many of the advocates of each 
 party, but that did not give cogency. to their arguments; 
 and I thought, on the contrary, that the Apostolical form 
 of doctrine was essential and imperative, and its grounds 
 of evidence impregnable. Owing to this supreme confi- 
 dence, it came to pass at that time, that there was a 
 double aspect in my bearing towards others, which it is 
 necessary for me to enlarge upon. My behaviour had a 
 mixture in it both of fierceness and of sport; and on 
 this account, I dare say, it gave ofience to many ; nor 
 am I here defending it. 
 
 I wished men to agree with me, and I walked with them 
 step by step, as far as they would go ; this I did sincerely ; 
 but if they would stop, I did not much care about it, but 
 walked on, with some satisfaction that I had brought them 
 so far. I liked to make them preach the truth without 
 knowing it, and encouraged them to do so. It was a satis- 
 faction to me that the Record had allowed me to say so 
 much in its columns, without remonstrance. I was amused 
 to hear of one of the Bishops, who, on reading an early 
 Tract on the Apostolical Succession, could not make up 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 45 
 
 his mind whether he held the doctrine or not. I was 
 not distressed at the wonder or anger of dull and self- 
 conceited men, at propositions which they did not under- 
 stand. "When a correspondent, in good faith, wrote to a 
 newspaper, to say that the " Sacrifice of the Holy Eu- 
 charist," spoken of in the Tract, was a false print for 
 "Sacrament,'' I thought the mistake too pleasant to be 
 corrected before I was asked about it. I was not un- 
 wilKng to draw an opponent on step by step, by virtue 
 of his own opinions, to the brink of some intellectual 
 absurdity, and to leave him to get back as he could. I 
 was not unwilling to play with a man, who asked me 
 impertinent questions. I think I had in my mouth the 
 words of the Wise man, " Answer a fool according to 
 his folly,'' especially if he was prying or spiteful. I was 
 reckless of the gossip which was circulated about me ; and, 
 when I might easily have set it right, did not deign to 
 do so. Also I used irony in conversation, when matter-of- 
 fact- men would not see what I meant. 
 
 This kind of behaviour was a sort of habit with me. If 
 I have ever trifled with my subject, it was a more serious 
 fault. I never used arguments which I saw clearly to be 
 unsound. The nearest approach which I remember to such 
 conduct, but which I consider was clear of it nevertheless, 
 was in the case of Tract 15. The matter of this Tract was 
 furnished to me by a friend, to whom I had applied for 
 assistance, but who did not wish to be mixed up with the 
 publication. He gave it me, that I might throw it 
 into shape, and I took his arguments as they stood. In 
 the chief portion of the Tract I fully agreed ; for in- 
 stance, as to what it says about the Council of Trent ; 
 but there were arguments, or some argument, in it which 
 I did not follow ; I do not recollect what it was. Froude, 
 I think, was disgusted with the whole Tract, and accused 
 me of economy in publishing it. It is principally through 
 
46 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPT>:iOXS 
 
 Mr. Froude's Remains that this word has got into our lan- 
 guage. I think, I defended mj^self with arguments such 
 as these : — that, as every one knew, the Tracts were written 
 by various persons who agreed together in their doctrine, 
 but not always in the arguments by which it was to be 
 proved ; that we must be tolerant of difference of opinion 
 among ourselves ; that the author of the Tract had a right 
 to his own opinion, and that the argument in question was 
 ordinarily received ; that I did not give my own name or 
 authority, nor was asked for my personal belief, but only 
 acted instrumentally, as one might translate a friend's book 
 into a foreign language. I account these to be good argu- 
 ments ; nevertheless I feel also that such practices admit 
 of easy abuse and are consequently dangerous ; but then, 
 again, I feel also this, — that if all such mistakes were to be 
 severely visited, not many men in public life would be left 
 with a character for honour and honesty. 
 
 This absolute confidence in mv cause, which led me to 
 the negligence or wantonness which I have been instan- 
 cing, also laid me open, not unfairly, to the opposite charge 
 of fierceness in certain steps which I took, or words which 
 I published. In the Lyra Apostolica, I have said that be- 
 fore learning to love, we must " learn to hate ;" though I 
 had explained my words by adding " hatred of sin." In 
 one of my first Sermons I said, " I do not shrink from 
 uttering my firm conviction that it would be a gain to the 
 country were it vastly more superstitious, more bigoted, 
 more gloomy, more fierce in its religion than at present 
 it shows itself to be." I added, of course, that it would be 
 an absurdity to suppose such tempers of mind desirable in 
 themselves. The corrector of the press bore these strong 
 epithets till he got to ''more fierce," and then he put 
 in the margin a query. In the very first page of the 
 first Tract, I said of the Bishops, that, " black event though 
 it would be for the country, yet we could not wish them a 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 47 
 
 more blessed termination of their course, than the spoiling 
 of their goods and martyrdom." In consequence of a pas- 
 sage ill my work upon the Arian History, a Northern dig- 
 nitary wrote to accuse me of wishing to re-establish the 
 blood and torture of the Inquisition. Contrasting heretics 
 and heresiarchs, I had said, " The latter should meet with 
 no mercy : he assumes the office of the Tempter ; and, so 
 far forth as his error goes, must be dealt with by the com- 
 petent authorit}^, as if he were embodied evil. To spare 
 him is a false and dangerous pity. It is to endanger the 
 souls of thousands, and it is uncharitable towards himself." 
 I cannot deny that this is a very fierce passage ; but Arius 
 was banished, not burned ; and it is only fair to mj^self 
 to say that neither at this, nor any other time of my life, 
 not even when I was fiercest, could I have even cut off a 
 Puritan's ears, and I think the sight of a Spanish cmto-da-fe 
 would have been the death of me. Again, when one of my 
 friends, of liberal and evangelical opinions, wrote to expos- 
 tulate with me on the course I was taking, I said that we 
 would ride over him and his, as Othniel prevailed over 
 Chushan-rishathaim, king of Mesopotamia. Again, I 
 would have no dealings with my brother, and I put my 
 conduct upon a syllogism. I said, "St. Paul bids us 
 avoid those who cause divisions ; you cause di\asions : 
 therefore I must avoid you." I dissuaded a lady from at- 
 tending the marriage of a sister who had seceded from the 
 Anglican Church. No wonder that Blanco "White, who 
 had known me under such different circumstances, now 
 hearing the general course that I was taking, was amazed 
 at the change which he recognized in me. He speaks bit- 
 terly and unfairly of me in his letters contemporaneously 
 with the first years of the Movement ; but in 1839, on 
 looking back, he uses terms of me, which it would be hardly 
 modest in me to quote, were it not that what he says of me 
 in praise occurs in the midst of blame. He says : ''In this 
 
48 HISTOIIY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 party [tlie anti-Peel, in 1829] I found, to my great sur- 
 prise, my dear friend, Mr. Newman of Oriel. As lie had 
 been one of tlie annual Petitioners to Parliament for Catholic 
 Emancipation, his sudden union with the most violent bigots 
 was inexplicable to me. That change was the first mani- 
 festation of the mental revolution, which has suddenly 
 made him one of the leading persecutors of Dr. Hampden, 
 and the most active and influential member of that associa- 
 tion called the Puseyite party, from which we have those 
 very strange productions, entitled, Tracts for the Times. 
 While stating these public facts, my heart feels a pang at 
 the recollection of the affectionate and mutual friendship 
 between that excellent man and mj^self; a friendship, 
 which his principles of orthodoxy could not allow him to 
 continue in regard to one, whom he now regards as inevit- 
 ably doomed to eternal perdition. Such is the venomous 
 character of orthodoxy. What mischief must it create in 
 a bad heart and narrow mind, when it can work so effectually 
 for evil, in one of the most benevolent of bosoms, and one 
 of the ablest of minds, in the amiable, the intellectual, the 
 refined John Henry Newman !'* (Yol. iii. p. 131.) He 
 adds that I would have nothing to do with him, a circum- 
 stance which I do not recollect, and very much doubt. 
 
 I have spoken of my firm confidence in my position ; 
 and now let me state more definitely what the position was 
 which I took up, and the propositions about which I was 
 so confident. These were three : — 
 
 1. First was the principle of dogma : my battle was with 
 liberalism ; by liberalism I mean the anti-dogmatic principle 
 and its developments. This was the first point on which 
 I was certain. Here I make a remark : persistence in a 
 given belief is no sufficient test of its truth : but departure 
 from it is at least a slur upon the man who has felt so 
 certain about it. In proportion, then, as I had in 1832 a 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 49 
 
 strong persuasion of the truth of opinions which I have 
 since given up, so far a sort of guilt attaches to me, not 
 only for that vain confidence, but for all the various pro- 
 ceedings which were the consequence of it. But under 
 this first head I have the satisfaction of feeling that I have 
 nothing to retract, and nothing to repent of. The main 
 principle of the movement is as dear to me now, as it ever 
 was. I have changed in many things : in this I have not. 
 From the age of fifteen, dogma has been the fundamental 
 principle of my religion : I know no other religion ; I 
 cannot enter into the idea of any other sort of religion ; 
 religion, as a mere sentiment, is to me a dream and a 
 mockery. As well can there be filial love without the fact 
 of a father, as devotion without the fact of a Supreme 
 Being. What I held in 1816, I held in 1833, and I hold 
 in 1864. Please God, I shall hold it to the end. Even 
 when I was under Dr. Whately's influence, I had no 
 temptation to be less zealous for the great dogmas of the 
 faith, and at various times I used to resist such trains of 
 thought on his part as seemed to me (rightly or wrongly) 
 to obscure them. Such was the fundamental principle of 
 the Movement of 1833. 
 
 2. Secondly, I was confident in the truth of a certain 
 definite religious teaching, based upon this foundation of 
 dogma ; viz. that there was a visible Church, with sacra- 
 ments and rites which are the channels of invisible grace. 
 I thought that this was the doctrine of Scripture, of the 
 early Church, and of the Anglican Church. Here again, 
 I have not changed in opinion ; I am as certain now on 
 this point as I was in 1833, and have never ceased to be 
 certain. In 1834 and the following years I put this eccle- 
 siastical doctrine on a broader basis, after reading Laud, 
 Bramhall, and Stillingfleet and other Anglican divines on 
 the one hand, and after prosecuting the study of the 
 Fathers on the other ; but the doctrine of 1833 was 
 
 E 
 
50 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 strengthened in me, not changed. AYhen I began the 
 Tracts for the Times I rested the main doctrine, of which 
 I am speaking, upon Scripture, on the Anglican Prayer 
 Book, and on St. Ignatius's Epistles. (1) As to the 
 existence of a visible Church, I especially argued out the 
 point from Scripture, in Tract 11, viz. from the Acts of 
 the Apostles and the Epistles. (2) As to the Sacraments 
 and Sacramental rites, I stood on the Prayer Book. I 
 appealed to the Ordination Service, in which the Bishop 
 says, *' Receive the Holy Ghost;" to the Visitation Ser- 
 vice, which teaches confession and absolution ; to the Bap- 
 tismal Service, in which the Priest speaks of the child 
 after baptism as regenerate ; to the Catechism, in which 
 Sacramental Communion is receiving " verily and indeed 
 the Body and Blood of Christ ; " to the Commination Ser- 
 vice, in which we are told to do ''works of penance ;'' to 
 the Collects, Epistles, and Gospels, to the calendar and 
 rubricks, portions of the Prayer Book, wherein we find 
 the festivals of the Apostles, notice of certain other Saints^ 
 and days of fasting and abstinence. 
 
 (3.) And further, as to the Episcopal system, I founded 
 it upon the Epistles of St. Ignatius, which inculcated it 
 in various ways. One passage especially impressed itself 
 upon me : speaking of cases of disobedience to ecclesiastical 
 authority, he says, " A man does not deceive that Bishop 
 whom he sees, but he practises rather with the Bishop 
 Invisible, and so the question is not with flesh, but with 
 God, who knows the secret heart." I wished to act on 
 this principle to the letter, and I may say with confidence 
 that I never consciously transgressed it. I loved to act as 
 feeling myself in my Bishop's sight, as if it were the sight 
 of God. It was one of my special supports and safeguards 
 against myself; I could not go very wrong while I had 
 reason to believe that I was in no respect displeasing him. 
 It was not a mere formal obedience to rule that I put 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 51 
 
 before me, but I desired to please him personally, as I 
 considered liim set over me by the Divine Hand. I was 
 strict in observing my clerical engagements, not only 
 because they were engagements, but because I considered 
 myself simply as the servant and instrument of my Bishop. 
 I did not care much for the Bench of Bishops, except a.s 
 they might be the voice of my Church : nor should I have 
 cared much for a Provincial Council ; nor for a Diocesan 
 Synod presided over by my Bishop ; all these matters seemed 
 to me to be jure ecclesiastlco, but what to me was jure 
 divino was the voice of my Bishop in his own person. My 
 own Bishop was my Pope ; I knew no other ; the successor 
 of the Apostles, the Yicar of Christ. This was but a prac- 
 tical exhibition of the Anglican theory of Church Govern- 
 ment, as I had already drawn it out mj^self, after various 
 Anglican Divines. This continued all through my course; 
 when at length, in 1845, I wrote to Bishop "Wiseman, in 
 whose Vicariate I found myself, to announce my conver- 
 sion, I could find nothing better to say to him than that I 
 would obey the Pope as I had obeyed my own Bishop in 
 the Anglican Church. My duty to him was my point of 
 honour ; his disapprobation was the one thing which I 
 could not bear. I believe it to have been a generous and 
 honest feeling; and in consequence I was rewarded by 
 having all my time for ecclesiastical superior a man, whom, 
 had I had a choice, I should have preferred, out and out, 
 to any other Bishop on the Bench, and for whose memory 
 I have a special affection. Dr. Bagot— a man of noble 
 mind, and as kind-hearted and as considerate as he was 
 noble. He ever sympathized with me in my trials vrhich 
 followed ; it was my own fault, that I was not brought 
 into more familiar personal relations with him, than it was 
 my happiness to be. May his name be ever blessed ! 
 
 And now in concluding my remarks on the second point 
 on which my confidence rested, I repeat that here again 
 
52 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 I have no retractation to announce as to its main outline. 
 While I am now as clear in my acceptance of the principle 
 of dogma, as I was in 1833 and 1816, so again I am now 
 as firm in my belief of a visible Church, of the authority 
 of Bishops, of the grace of the sacraments, of the religious 
 worth of works of penance, as I was in 1833. I have added 
 Articles to my Creed ; but the old ones, which I then held 
 with a divine faith, remain. 
 
 3. But now, as to the third point on which I stood in 
 1833, and which I have utterly renounced and trampled 
 upon since,— my then view of the Church of Rome;— I 
 will speak about it as exactly as I can. When I was 
 young, as I have said already, and after I was grown up, I 
 thought the Pope to be Antichrist. At Christmas 1824-5 
 I preached a sermon to that efiect. But in 1827 I 
 accepted eagerly the stanza in the Christian Year, which 
 many people thought too charitable, " Speak gently of thy 
 sister's fall." From the time that I knew Froude I got 
 less and less bitter on the subject. I spoke (successively, 
 but I cannot tell in what order or at what dates) of the 
 Roman Church as being bound up with "the cause of 
 Antichrist," as being one of the " many antichrists " fore- 
 told by St. John, as being influenced by " the sjyirit of 
 Antichrist," and as having something "very Antichristian " 
 or " unchristian " about her. From my boyhood and in 
 1824 I considered, after Protestant authorities, that St. 
 Gregory I. about a.d. 600 was the first Pope that was 
 Antichrist, though, in spite of this, he was also a great and 
 holy man ; but in 1832-3 I thought the Church of Rome 
 was bound up with the cause of Antichrist by the Council 
 of Trent. When it was that in my deliberate judgment 
 I gave up the notion altogether in any shape, that some 
 special reproach was attached to her name, I cannot tell ; 
 but I had a shrinking from renouncing it, even when my 
 reason so ordered me, from a sort of conscience or preju- 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 63 
 
 dice, I think up to 1843. Moreover, at least during the 
 Tract Movement, I thought the essence of her offence to 
 consist in the honours which she paid to the Blessed 
 Virgin and the Saints ; and the more I grew in devotion, 
 both to the Saints and to our Lady, the more impatient 
 was I at the Roman practices, as if those glorified creations 
 of God must be gravely shocked, if pain could be theirs, at 
 the undue veneration of which they were the objects. 
 
 On the other hand, Hurrell Froude in his familiar con- 
 versations was always tending to rub the idea out of my 
 mind. In a passage of one of his letters from abroad, 
 alluding, I suppose, to what I used to say in opposition to 
 him, he observes : "I think people are injudicious who 
 talk against the Eoman Catholics for worshipping Saints, 
 and honouring the Virgin and images, &c. These things 
 may perhaps be idolatrous ; I cannot make up my mind 
 about it ; but to my mind it is the Carnival that is real 
 practical idolatry, as it is written, ' the people sat down to 
 eat and drink, and rose up to play.'" The Carnival, I 
 observe in passing, is, in fact, one of those very excesses, 
 to which, for at least three centuries, religious Catholics 
 have ever opposed themselves, as we see in the life of St. 
 Philip, to say nothing of the present day ; but this we did 
 not then know. Moreover, from Froude I learned to admire 
 the great medieval Pontiffs ; and, of course, when I had 
 come to consider the Council of Trent to be the turning- 
 point of the history of Christian Rome, I found myself as 
 free, as I was rejoiced, to speak in their praise. Then, 
 when I was abroad, the sight of so many great places, 
 venerable shrines, and noble churches, much impressed 
 my imagination. And my heart was touched also. 
 Making an expedition on foot across some wild country in 
 Sicily, at six in the morning, I came upon a small church ; 
 I heard voices, and I looked in. It was crowded, and the 
 congregation was singing. Of course it was the mass, 
 
54 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 though I did not know it at the time. And, in my weary 
 days at Palermo, I was not ungrateful for the comfort 
 which I had received in frequenting the churches ; nor 
 did I ever forget it. Then, again, her zealous mainte- 
 nance of the doctrine and the rule of celibacy, which I 
 recognized as Apostolic, and her faithful agreement with 
 Antiquity in so many other points which were dear to 
 me, was an argument as well as a plea in favour of the 
 great Church of Eome. Thus I learned to have tender 
 feelings towards her ; but still my reason was not affected 
 at all. My judgment was against her, when viewed as an 
 institution, as truly as it ever had been. 
 
 This conflict between reason and affection I expressed in 
 one of the early Tracts, published July, 1834. " Consider- 
 ing the high gifts and the strong claims of the Church of 
 Rome and its dependencies on our admiration, reverence, 
 love, and gratitude ; how could we withstand it, as we do, 
 how could we refrain from being melted into tenderness, 
 and rushing into communion with it, but for the words of 
 Truth itself, which bid us prefer It to the whole world ? 
 *He that loveth father or mother more than Me, is not 
 worthy of me.' How could * we learn to be severe, and exe- 
 cute judgment,' but for the warning of Moses against even 
 a divinely-gifted teacher, who should preach new gods ; 
 and the anathema of St. Paul even against Angels and 
 Apostles, who should bring in a new doctrine?" — Records, 
 No. 24. My feeling v/as something like that of a man, who 
 is obliged in a court of justice to bear witness against a 
 friend ; or like my own now, when I have said, and shall 
 saj^ so many things on which I had rather be silent. 
 
 As a matter, then, of simple conscience, though it went 
 against my feelings, I felt it to be a duty to protest against 
 the Church of Eome. But besides this, it was a duty, be- 
 cause the prescription of such a protest was a living prin- 
 ciple of my own Church, as expressed not simply in a 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 55 
 
 catena^ but by a consensus of her divines, and by the voice 
 of her people. Moreover, such a protest was necessary as 
 an integral portion of her controversial basis ; for I adopted 
 the argument of Bernard Gilpin, that Protestants " were 
 not able to give ^nj firm and solid reason of the separation 
 besides this, to wit, that the Pope is Antichrist." But 
 while I thus thought such a protest to be based upon truth, 
 and to be a religious duty, and a rule of Anglicanism; and 
 a necessity of the case, I did not at all like the work. 
 Hurrell Froude attacked me for doing it ; and, besides, I 
 felt that my language had a vulgar and rhetorical look 
 about it. I believed, and really measured, my words, when 
 I used them ; but I knew that I had a temptation, on the 
 other hand, to say against Pome as much as ever I could, 
 in order to protect myself against the charge of Popery. 
 
 And now I come to the very point, for which I have in- 
 troduced the subject of my feelings about Pome. I felt 
 such confidence in the substantial justice of the charges 
 which I advanced against her, that I considered them to 
 be a safeguard and an assurance that no harm could ever 
 arise from the freest exposition of what I used to call 
 Anglican principles. All the world was astounded at what 
 Froude and I were sajdng : men said that it was sheer 
 Popery. I answered, ''True, we seem to be making straight 
 for it ; but go on aw^hile, and you will come to a deep chasm 
 across the path, which makes real approximation impos- 
 sible." And I urged in addition, that many Anglican 
 divines had been accused of Popery, yet had died in their 
 Anglicanism ; — now, the ecclesiastical principles which I 
 professed, they had professed also ; and the judgment 
 against Pome which they had formed, I had formed also. 
 Whatever deficiencies then had to be supplied in the ex- 
 isting Anglican system, and however boldly I might point 
 them out, any how that system would not in the process be 
 brought nearer to the special creed of Pome, and might be 
 
56 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 mended in spite of her. In that very agreement of the 
 two forms of faith, close as it might seem, would reall}' be 
 found, on examination, the elements and principles of an 
 essential discordance. 
 
 It was with this absolute persuasion on my mind that 
 I fancied that there could be no rashness in giving to the 
 world in fullest measure the teaching and the writings of the 
 Fathers. I thought that the Church of England was 
 substantially founded upon them. I did not know all 
 that the Fathers had said, but I felt that, even when 
 their tenets happened to diflPer from the Anglican, no 
 harm could come of reporting them. I said out what I 
 was clear they had said ; I spoke vaguely and imperfectly, 
 of what I thought they said, or what some of them had 
 said. Any how, no harm could come of bending the 
 crooked stick the other way, in the process of straightening 
 it ; it was impossible to break it. If there was any thing 
 in the Fathers of a startling character, this would be only 
 for a time ; it would admit of explanation, or it might 
 suggest something profitable to Anglicans ; it could not 
 lead to Eome. I express this view of the matter in a 
 passage of the Preface to the first volume, which I edited, 
 of the Library of the Fathers. Speaking of the strange- 
 ness at first sight, in the judgment of the present day, of 
 some of their principles and opinions, I bid the reader 
 go forward hopefully, and not indulge his criticism till he 
 knows more about them, than he will learn at the outset. 
 "Since the evil," I say, "is in the nature of the case 
 itself, we can do no more than have patience, and recom- 
 mend patience to others, and with the racer in the Tragedy, 
 look forward steadily and hopefully to the eccnf, rw riXei 
 TTiGTLv (pipiov, when, as we trust, all that is inharmonious 
 and anomalous in the details, will at length be practically 
 smoothed." 
 
 Such was the position', such the defences, such the tactics, 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 57 
 
 bj^whicli I thought that it was both incumbent on us, and pos- 
 sible for us, to meet that onset of Liberal principles, of which 
 we were all in immediate anticipation, whether in the 
 Church or in the IJniversity. And during the first year of 
 the Tracts, the attack upon the University began. In No- 
 vember, 1834, was sent to me by Dr. Hampden the second 
 edition of his Pamphlet, entitled, "Observations on Religious 
 Dissent, with particular reference to the use of religious 
 tests in the University." In this Pamphlet it was main- 
 tained, that " Religion is distinct from Theological 
 Opinion," pp. 1. 28. 30, &c. ; that it is but a common 
 prejudice to identify theological propositions methodically 
 deduced and stated, with the simple religion of Christ, 
 p. !•; that under Theological Opinion were to be placed 
 the Trinitarian doctrine, p. 27, and the Unitarian, p. 19 ; 
 that a dogma was a theological opinion formally insisted 
 on, pp. 20, 21 ; that speculation always left an opening for 
 improvement, p. 22; that the Church of England was not 
 dogmatic in its spirit, though the wording of its formu- 
 laries might often carry the sound of dogmatism, p. 23. 
 
 I acknowledged the receipt of this work in the following 
 letter : — 
 
 " The kindness which has led to your presenting me 
 with your late Pamphlet, encourages me to hope that you 
 will forgive me, if I take the opportunity it affords of 
 expressing to you my very sincere and deep regret that it 
 has been published. Such an opportunity I could not let 
 slip without being unfaithful to my own serious thoughts 
 on the subject. 
 
 " While I respect the tone of piety which the Pamphlet 
 displays, I dare not trust myself to put on paper my feel- 
 ings about the principles contained in it ; tending as they 
 do, in my opinion, altogether to make shipwreck of Chris- 
 tian faith. I also lament, that, by its appearance, the first 
 step has been taken towards interrupting that peace and 
 
58 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINION^ 
 
 mutual good understanding wliicli has prevailed so long in 
 this place, and which, if once seriously disturbed, will be 
 succeeded by dissensions the more intractable, because jus- 
 tified in the minds of those who resist innovation by a feel- 
 ing of imperative duty." 
 
 Since that time Phaeton has got into the chariot of the 
 sun ; we, alas ! can only look on, and watch him down the 
 steep of heaven. Meanwhile, the lands, which he is passing 
 over, suffer from his driving. 
 
 Such was the commencement of the assault of Liberalism 
 upon the old orthodoxy of Oxford and England ; and it 
 could not have been broken, as it was, for so long a time, 
 had not a great change taken place in the circumstances of 
 that counter-movement which had already started with the 
 view of resisting it. For myself, I was not the person to 
 take the lead of a party ; I never was, from first to last, 
 more than a leading author of a school ; nor did I ever 
 wish to be anything else. This is my own account of the 
 matter ; and I say it, neither as intending to disown the 
 responsibilitj^ of what was done, or as if ungrateful to those 
 who at that time made more of me than I deserved, and did 
 more for my sake and at my bidding than I realized my- 
 self. I am giving my history from my own point of sight, 
 and it is as follows : — I had lived for ten j^ears among my 
 personal friends ; the greater part of the time, I had been 
 influenced, not influencing ; and at no time have I acted on 
 others, without their acting upon me. As is the custom of 
 a University, I had lived with my private, nay, with some 
 of my public, pupils, and with the junior fellows of my 
 College, without form or distance, on a footing of equality. 
 Thus it was through friends, younger, for the most part, 
 than myself, that my principles were spreading. They 
 heard what I said in conversation, and told it to others. 
 Under- graduates in due time took their degree, and became 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 69 
 
 private tutors themselves. In tlieir new status, they in turn 
 preached the opinions, with which they had already become 
 acquainted. Others went down to the country, and became 
 curates of parishes. Then they had down from London 
 parcels of the Tracts, and other publications. They placed 
 them in the shops of local booksellers, got them into news- 
 papers, introduced them to clerical meetings, and converted 
 more or less their Rectors and their brother curates. Thus 
 the Movement, viewed with relation to myself, was but a 
 floating opinion ; it was not a power. It never would have 
 been a power, if it had remained in my hands. Years 
 after, a friend, writing to me in remonstrance at the ex- 
 cesses, as he thought them, of my disciples, applied to me 
 my own verse about St. Gregory Nazianzen, " Thou couldst 
 a people raise, but couldst not rule." At the time that he 
 wrote to me, I had special impediments in the way of such 
 an exercise of power ; but at no time could I exercise over 
 others that authority, which under the circumstances was 
 imperatively^ required. My great principle ever was. Live 
 and let live. I never had the staidness or dignity necessary 
 for a leader. To the last I never recognized the hold I had 
 over young men. Of late years I have read and heard that 
 they even imitated me in various ways. I was quite un- 
 conscious of it, and I think my immediate friends knew too 
 well how disgusted I should be at such proceedings, to 
 have the heart to tell me. I felt great impatience at our 
 being called a party, and would not allow that we were 
 such. I had a lounging, free-and-easy way of carrying 
 things on. I exercised no sufficient censorship upon the 
 Tracts. I did not confine them to the writings of such 
 persons as agreed in all things with myself; and, as to my 
 own Tracts, I printed on them a notice to the effect, that 
 any one who pleased, might make what use he would of 
 them, and reprint them with alterations if he chose, under. 
 the conviction that their main scope could not be damaged 
 
60 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPIXIOXS 
 
 by such a process. It was the same with me afterwards, 
 as regards other publications. For two years I furnished 
 a certain number of sheets for the British Critic from my- 
 self and my friends, while a gentleman was editor, a man 
 of splendid talent, who, however, was scarcely an acquain- 
 tance of mine, and had no sympathy with the Tracts. 
 When I was Editor myself, from 1838 to 1841, in my 
 very first number I sufi'ered to appear a critique unfavor- 
 able to my work on Justification, which had been published 
 a few months before, from a feeling of propriety, because 
 I had put the book into the hands of the writer who so 
 handled it. Afterwards I suffered an article against the 
 Jesuits to appear in it, of which I did not like the tone. 
 When I had to provide a curate for my new church at 
 Littlemore, I engaged a friend, by no fault of his, who, be- 
 fore he had entered into his charge, preached a sermon, 
 either in depreciation of baptismal regeneration, or of Dr. 
 Pusey's view of it. I showed a similar easiness as to the 
 Editors who helped me in the separate volumes of Fleury's 
 Church History; they were able, learned, and excellent 
 men, but their after-history has shown, how little my choice 
 of them was influenced by any notion I could have had of 
 any intimate agreement of opinion between them and my- 
 self. I shall have to make the same remark in its place 
 concerning the Lives of the English Saints, which subse- 
 quently appeared. All this may seem inconsistent with 
 what I have said of my fierceness. I am not bound to ac- 
 count for it ; but there have been men before me, fierce in 
 act, yet tolerant and moderate in their reasonings ; at least, 
 so I read history. However, such was the case, and such 
 its effect upon the Tracts. These at first starting were 
 short, hasty, and some of them ineffective ; and at the end 
 of the year, when collected into a volume, they had a 
 slovenly appearance. 
 
 It was under these circumstances, that Dr. Pusey joined 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 61 
 
 us. I had known him well since 1827-8, and had felt for 
 him an enthusiastic admiration. I used to call him 6 /jiiyag. 
 His great learning, his immense diligence, his scholarlike 
 mind, his simple devotion to the cause of religion, over- 
 came me ; and great of course was my joy, when in the 
 last days of 1833 he showed a disposition to make common 
 cause with us. His Tract on Fasting appeared as one of 
 the series with the date of December 21. He was not, 
 however, I think, fully associated in the Movement tiU 
 1835 and 1836, when he published his Tract on Baptism, 
 and started the Library of the Fathers. He at once gave 
 to us a position and a name. AVithout him we should have 
 had little chance, especially at the early date of 1834, of 
 making any serious resistance to the Liberal aggression. 
 But Dr. Pusey was a Professor and Canon of Christ 
 Church ; he had a vast influence in consequence of his 
 deep religious seriousness, the munificence of his chari- 
 ties, his Professorship, his family connexions, and his 
 easy relations with University authorities. He was to 
 the Movement all that Mr. Rose might have been, with 
 that indispensable addition, which was wanting to Mr. 
 Rose, the intimate friendship and the familiar daily 
 society of the persons who had commenced it. And he 
 had that special claim on their attachment, which lies 
 in the living presence of a faithful and loyal afiectionate- 
 ness. There was henceforth a man who could be the 
 head and centre of the zealous people in every part of 
 the country, who were adopting the new opinions; and 
 not only so, but there was one who furnished the 
 Movement with a front to the world, and gained for it 
 a recognition from other parties in the University. In 
 1829, Mr. Froude, or Mr. Robert Wilberforce, or Mr. 
 IN^ewman were but individuals ; and, when they ranged 
 themselves in the contest of that year on the side of 
 Sir Robert Inglis, men on either side only asked with 
 
62 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIOiNS 
 
 surprise how they got there, and attached no significancy 
 to the fact ; but Dr. Pusey was, to use the common ex- 
 pression, a host in himself; he was able to give a name, 
 a form, and a personality, to what was without him a sort 
 of mob ; and when various parties had to meet together in 
 order to resist the liberal acts of the Government, we of 
 the Movement took our place by right among them. 
 
 Such was the benefit which he conferred on the Move- 
 ment externall}^ ; nor were the internal advantages at all 
 inferior to it. He was a man of large designs; he had a 
 hopeful, sanguine mind ; he had no fear of others ; he was 
 haunted by no intellectual perplexities. People are apt to 
 say that he was once nearer to the Catholic Church than 
 he is now ; I pray God that he may be one day far nearer 
 to the Catholic Church than he was then ; for I believe that, 
 in his reason and judgment, all the time that I knew him, 
 he never was near to it at all. When I became a Catholic, 
 I was often asked, "What of Dr. Pusey?" when I said 
 that I did not see symptoms of his doing as I had done, I 
 was sometimes thought uncharitable. If confidence in his 
 position is, (as it is,) a first essential in the leader of a party, 
 this Dr. Pusey possessed pre-eminently. The most re- 
 markable instance of this, was his statement, in one of his 
 subsequent defences of the Movement, when moreover it had 
 advanced a considerable way in the direction of Pome, that 
 among its more hopeful peculiarities was its "station- 
 ariness." He made it in good faith ; it was his subjective 
 view of it. 
 
 Dr. Pusey's influence was felt at once. He saw that there 
 ought to be more sobrietj^, more gravity, more careful pains, 
 more sense of responsibility in the Tracts and in the whole 
 Movement. It was through him that the character of the 
 Tracts was changed. When he gave to us his Tract on 
 Fasting, he put his initials to it. In 1835 he published 
 his elaborate Treatise on Baptism, which was followed by 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 63 
 
 other Tracts from clifierent authors, if not of equal learning, 
 yet of equal power and appositeness. The Catenas of An- 
 glican divines, projected by me, which occur in the Series, 
 were executed with a like aim at greater accuracy and 
 method. In 1836 he advertised his great project for a 
 Translation of the Fathers : — but I must return to myself. 
 I am not writing the history either of Dr. Pusey or of 
 the Movement ; but it is a pleasure to me to have been 
 able to introduce here reminiscences of the place which 
 he held in it, which have so direct a bearing on myself, 
 that they are no digression from my narrative. 
 
 I suspect it was Dr. Pusey's influence and example 
 which set me, and made me set others, on the larger and 
 more careful works in defence of the principles of the 
 Movement which followed in a course of years, — some of 
 them demanding and receiving from their authors, such 
 elaborate treatment that they did not make their appear- 
 ance till both its temper and its fortunes had changed. I 
 set about a work at once ; one in which was brought out 
 with precision the relation in which we stood to the 
 Church of Pome. We could not move a step in comfort, 
 till this was done. It was of absolute necessity and a plain 
 duty from the first, to provide as soon as possible a large 
 statement, which would encourage and reassure our friends, 
 and repel the attacks of our opponents. A cry was heard 
 on all sides of us, that the Tracts and the writings of the 
 Fathers would lead us to become Catholics, before we were 
 aware of it. This was loudly expressed by members of 
 the Evangelical party, who in 1836 had joined us in 
 making a protest in Convocation against a memorable 
 appointment of the Prime Minister. These clergymen 
 even then avowed their desire, that the next time they 
 were brought up to Oxford to give a vote, it might be in 
 order to put down the Popery of the Movement. There 
 
64 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 was anotlier reason still, and quite as important. Mon- 
 signore AViseman, with the acuteness and zeal which 
 might be expected from that great Prelate, had antici- 
 pated what was coming, had returned to England by 
 
 1836, had delivered Lectures in London on the doctrines 
 of Catholicism, and created an impression through the 
 country, shared in by ourselves, that we had for our 
 opponents in controversy, not only our brethren, but our 
 hereditary foes. These were the circumstances, which led 
 to my publication of " The Prophetical office of the 
 Church viewed relatively to Eomanism and Popular Pro- 
 testantism." 
 
 This work employed me for three years, from the begin- 
 ning of 1834 to the end of 1836, and was published in 
 
 1837. It was composed, after a careful consideration and 
 comparison of the principal Anglican divines of the 17th 
 century. It was first written in the shape of controversial 
 correspondence with a learned French Priest ; then it was 
 re-cast, and delivered in Lectures at St. Mary's; lastty, 
 with considerable retrenchments and additions, it was re- 
 written for publication. 
 
 It attempts to trace out the rudimental lines on which 
 Christian faith and teaching proceed, and to use them as 
 means of determining the relation of the Poman and 
 Anglican systems to each other. In this way it shows 
 that to confuse the two together is impossible, and that 
 the Anglican can be as little said to tend to the Poman, as 
 the Roman to the Anglican. The spirit of the Yolume is 
 not so gentle to the Church of Pome, as Tract 71 published 
 the year before ; on the contrary, it is very fierce ; and 
 this I attribute to the circumstance that the Volume is 
 theological and didactic, whereas the Tract, being con- 
 troversial, assumes as little and grants as much as possi- 
 ble on the points in dispute, and insists on points of 
 agreement as well as of difference. A further and 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 65 
 
 more direct reason is, that in my Yolume I deal with 
 "."Romanism" (as I call it), not so much in its formal 
 decrees and in the substance of its creed, as in its tradi- 
 tional action and its authorized teaching as represented 
 by its prominent writers ; — whereas the Tract is written 
 as if discussing the differences of the Churches with a 
 view to a reconciliation between them. There is a further 
 reason too, which I will state presently. 
 
 But this Volume had a larger scope than that of 
 opposing the Koman system. It was an attempt at com- 
 mencing a system of theology on the Anglican idea, and 
 based upon Anglican authorities. Mr. Palmer, about the 
 same time, was projecting a work of a similar nature in 
 his own way. It was published, I think, under the title, 
 "A Treatise on the Christian Church." As was to be 
 expected from the author, it was a most learned, most 
 careful composition ; and in its form, I should say, pole- 
 mical. So happily at least did he follow the logical 
 method of the Roman Schools, that Father Perrone in his 
 Treatise on dogmatic theology, recognized in him a com- 
 batant of the true cast, and saluted him as a foe worthy 
 of being vanquished. Other soldiers in that field he seems 
 to have thought little better than the Lanzknechts of the 
 middle ages, and, I dare say, with very good reason. 
 When I knew that excellent and kind-hearted man at 
 Rome at a later time, he allowed me to put him to ample 
 penance for those light thoughts of me, which he had once 
 had, by encroaching on his valuable time with my theo- 
 logical questions. As to Mr. Palmer's book, it was one 
 which no Anglican could write but himself, — in no sense, 
 if I recollect aright, a tentative work. The ground of 
 controversy was cut into squares, and then every objection 
 had its answer. This is the proper method to adopt in 
 teaching authoritatively young men ; and the work in fact 
 was intended for students in theology. My own book, on 
 
66 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 the otlier hand, was of a directly tentative and empirical 
 character. I wished to build up an Anglican theology- 
 out of the stores which already lay cut and hewn upon 
 the ground, the past toil of great divines. To do this 
 could not.be the work of one man ; much less, could it be 
 at once received into Anglican theology, however well it 
 was done. This I fully recognized ; and, while I trusted 
 that my statements of doctrine would turn out to be true 
 and important, still I wrote, to use the common phrase, 
 *^ under correction." 
 
 There was another motive for my publishing, of a per- 
 sonal nature, which I think I should mention. I felt 
 then, and all along felt, that there was an intellectual 
 cowardice in not finding a basis in reason for my belief, 
 and a moral cowardice in not avowing that basis. I 
 should have felt myself less than a man, if I did not bring 
 it out, whatever it was. This is one principal reason why 
 I wrote and published the " Prophetical Ofiice.'* • It was 
 from the same feeling, that in the spring of 1836, at a meet- 
 ing of residents on the subject of the struggle then pro- 
 ceeding against aWhig appointment, when some one wanted 
 us all merely to act on college and conservative grounds (as 
 I understood him), with as few published statements as 
 possible, I answered, that the person whom we were 
 resisting had committed himself in writing, and that we 
 ought to commit ourselves too. This again was a main 
 reason for the publication of Tract 90. Alas ! it was my 
 portion for whole years to remain without any satisfactory 
 basis for my religious profession, in a state of moral sick- 
 ness, neither able to acquiesce in Anglicanism, nor able to 
 go to Rome. But I bore it, till in course of time my way 
 was made clear to me. If here it be objected to me, that 
 us time went on, I often in my writings hinted at things 
 which I did not fully bring out, I submit for consideration 
 whether this occurred except when I was in great difficul- 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 67 
 
 ties, how to speak, or how to be silent, with due regard 
 for the position of mind or the feelings of others. How- 
 ever, I may have an opportunity to say more on this sub- 
 ject. But to return to the ^' Prophetical Office.'* 
 I thus speak in the Introduction to my Yoluriie : — 
 "It is proposed," I say, "to offer helps towards the 
 formation of a recognized Anglican theology in one of its 
 departments. The present state of our divinity is as 
 follows: the most vigorous, the clearest, the most fertile 
 minds, have through God's mercy been employed in the 
 service of our Church : minds too as reverential and holy, 
 and as fully imbued with Ancient Truth, and as well 
 versed in the writings of the Fathers, as they were in- 
 tellectually gifted. This is God's great mercy indeed, for 
 which we must ever be thankful. Primitive doctrine has 
 been explored for us in everj^ direction, and the original 
 principles of the Gospel and the Church patiently brought 
 to light. But one thing is still wanting : our champions 
 and teachers have lived in stormy times: political and 
 other influences have acted upon them variously in their 
 day, and have since obstructed a careful consolidation of 
 their judgments. We have a vast inheritance, but no 
 inventory of our treasures. All is given us in profusion ; 
 it remains for us to catalogue, sort, distribute, select, har- 
 monize, and complete. "\Ye have more than we know how 
 to use; stores of learning, but little that is precise and 
 serviceable ; Catholic truth and individual opinion, first 
 principles and the guesses of genius, all mingled in the 
 same works, and requiring to be discriminated. We meet 
 with truths overstated or misdirected, matters of detail 
 variously taken, facts incompletely proved or applied, and 
 rules inconsistently urged or discordantly interpreted. 
 Such indeed is the state of every deep philosophy in its 
 first stages, and therefore of theological knowledge. What 
 we need at present for our Church's well-being, is not 
 
68 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 invention, nor originality, nor sagacity, nor even learning 
 in our divines, at least in the first place, though all gifts 
 of God are in a measure needed, and never can be unsea- 
 sonable when used religiously, but we need peculiarly a 
 sound judgment, patient thought, discrimination, a com- 
 prehensive mind, an abstinence from all private fancies 
 and caprices and personal tastes,— in a word, Divine 
 Wisdom." 
 
 The subject of the Yolume is the doctrine of the Via 
 Media, a name which had already been applied to the 
 Anglican system by writers of name. It is an expressive 
 title, but not altogether satisfactory, because it is at first 
 sight negative. This had been the reason of my dislike to 
 the word " Protestant ;" viz. it did not denote the profession 
 of any particular religion at all, and was compatible with 
 infidelity. A Via Media was but a receding from ex- 
 tremes, —therefore it needed to be drawn out into a definite 
 shape and character : before it could have claims on our 
 respect, it must first be shown to be one, intelligible, and 
 consistent. This was the first condition of any reasonable 
 treatise on the Via Media. The second condition, and 
 necessary too, was not in my power. I could only hope 
 that it would one day be fulfilled. Even if the Via Media 
 were ever so positive a religious system, it was not as yet 
 objective and real ; it had no original any where of which 
 it was the representative. It was at present a paper 
 religion. This I confess in my Introduction; I sa}^, 
 ''Protestantism and Popery are real religions . . . but 
 the Via Media, viewed as an integral system, has scarcely 
 had existence except on paper." I grant the objection, 
 though I endeavour to lessen it : — " It still remains to be 
 tried, whether what is called Anglo- Catholicism, the 
 religion of Andrewes, Laud, Hammond, Butler, and Wil- 
 son, is capable of being professed, acted on, and main- 
 tained on a large sphere of action, or whether it be a mere 
 
moM 1833 TO 1839. 69 
 
 modification or transition-state of either Ptomanism or 
 popular Protestantism.'' I trusted that some day it would 
 proT?e to be a substantive religion. 
 
 Lest I should be misunderstood, let me observe that 
 this hesitation about the validity of the theory of the Via 
 Media implied no doubt of the three fundamental points 
 on which it was based, as I have described them above, 
 dogma, the sacramental system, and anti-Romanism. 
 
 Other investigations which had to be followed up were 
 of a still more tentative character. The basis of the Via 
 Media, consisting of the three elementary points, which I 
 have just mentioned, was clear enough ; but, not only had 
 the house itself to be built upon them, but it had also to 
 be furnished, and it is not wonderful if, after building it, 
 both I and others erred in detail in determining what its 
 furniture should be, what was consistent with the style of 
 building, and what was in itself desirable. I will explain 
 what I mean. 
 
 I had brought out in the "Prophetical Office " in what 
 the Roman and the Anglican systems differed from each 
 other, but less distinctly in what they agreed. I had 
 indeed enumerated the Fundamentals, common to both, in 
 the following passage : — " In both systems the same 
 Creeds are acknowledged. Besides other points in common, 
 we both hold, that certain doctrines are necessary to be 
 believed for salvation ; we both believe in the doctrines of 
 the Trinity, Incarnation, and Atonement ; in original sin ; 
 in the necessity of regeneration ; in the supernatural grace 
 of the Sacraments ; in the Apostolical succession ; in the 
 obligation of faith and obedience, and in the eternity of 
 future punishment,"— pp. 55, 56. So much I had said, 
 but I had not said enough. This enumeration implied a 
 great many more points of agreement than were found in 
 those very Articles which were fundamental. If the two 
 Churches were thus the same in fundamentals, they were 
 
70 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 also one and tlie same in such plain consequences as were 
 contained in those fundamentals and in such natural obser- 
 vances as' outwardly represented them. It was an Anglican 
 principle that " the abuse of a thing doth not take away 
 the lawful use of it ;" and an Anglican Canon in 1603 had 
 declared that the ]^]nglish Church had no purpose to forsake 
 all that was held in the Churches of Italy, France, and 
 Spain, and reverenced those ceremonies and particular 
 points which wert Apostolic. Excepting then such excep- 
 tional matters, as are implied in this avowal, whether they 
 were many or few, all these Churches were evidently to be 
 considered as one with the Anglican. The Catholic Church 
 in all lands had been one from the first for many centuries ; 
 then, various portions had followed their own way to the 
 injury, but not to the destruction, whether of truth or of 
 charity. These portions or branches were mainly three : — 
 the Greek, Latin, and Anglican. Each of these inherited 
 the early undivided Church in soUdo as its own possession. 
 Each branch was identical with that early undivided 
 Church, and in the unity of that Church it had unity with 
 the other branches. The three branches agreed together 
 in all hut their later accidental errors. Some branches 
 had retained in detail portions of Apostolical truth and 
 usage, which the others had not; and these portions might 
 be and should be appropriated again by the others which 
 had let them slip. Thus, the middle age belonged to the 
 Anglican Church, and much more did the middle age of 
 England. The Church of the 12th century was the Church 
 of the 19th. Dr. Howley sat in the seat of St. Thomas 
 the Martyr ; Oxford was a medieval University. Saving 
 our engagements to Prayer Book and Articles, we might 
 breathe and live and act and speak, as in the atmosphere 
 and climate of Henry III.'s day, or the Confessor's, or of 
 Alfred's. And we ought to be indulgent to all that Rome 
 taught now, as to what Eome taught then, saving our 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 71 
 
 protest. We miglit boldly welcome, even what we did not 
 ourselves think right to adopt. And, when we were obliged 
 on the contrary boldly to denounce, we should do so .with 
 pain, not with exultation. By very reason of our protest, 
 which we had made, and made ex animo, we could agree 
 to differ. What the members of the Bible Society did on 
 the basis of Scripture, we could do on the basis of the 
 Church ; Trinitarian and Unitarian were further apart 
 than Roman and Anglican. Thus we had a real wish to 
 co-operate with Bome in all lawful things, if she would 
 let us, and if the rules of our own Church let us ; and we 
 thought there was no better way towards the restoration 
 of doctrinal purity and unity. And we thought that Bome 
 was not committed by her formal decrees to all that she 
 actually taught: and again, if her disputants had been 
 unfair to us, or her rulers tyrannical, we bore in mind 
 that on our side too there had been rancour and slander 
 in our controversial attacks upon her, and violence in our 
 political measures. As to ourselves being direct instru- 
 ments in improving her belief or practice, I used to say, 
 " Look at home ; let us first, (or at least let us the while,) 
 supply our own shortcomings, before we attempt to be 
 physicians to any one else.'^ This is very much the spirit 
 of Tract 71, to which I referred just now. I am well 
 aware that there is a paragraph inconsistent with it in 
 the Brospectus to the Library of the Fathers ; but I do 
 not consider myself responsible for it. Indeed, I have no 
 intention whatever of implying that Dr. Busey concurred 
 in the ecclesiastical theory, which I have been now drawing 
 out ; nor that I took it up myself except by degrees in the 
 course of ten years. It was necessarily the growth of time. 
 In fact, hardly any two persons, who took part in the 
 Movement, agreed in their view of the limit to which 
 our general principles might religiously be carried. 
 
 And now I have said enough on what I consider to have 
 
72 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIOISS 
 
 been the general objects of the various works, which I 
 wrote, edited, or prompted in the years which I am 
 reviewing. I wanted to bring out in a substantive form a 
 living Church of England, in a position proper to herself, 
 and founded on distinct principles ; as far as paper could 
 do it, as far as earnestly preaching it and influencing others 
 towards it, could tend to make it a fact; — a living Church, 
 made of flesh and blood, with voice, complexion, and 
 motion and action, and a will of its own. I believe I had 
 no private motive, and no personal aim. Nor did I ask 
 for more than '* a fair stage and no favour," nor expect 
 the work would be accomplished in my days ; but I 
 thought that enough would be secured to continue it in 
 the future, under, perhaps, more hopeful circumstances and 
 prospects than the present. 
 
 I will mention in illustration some of the principal 
 works, doctrinal and historical, which originated in the 
 object which I have stated. 
 
 I wrote my Essay on Justification in 1837; it was aimed 
 at the Lutheran dictum that justification by faith only was 
 the cardinal doctrine of Christianity. I considered that 
 this doctrine was either a paradox or a truism, — a paradox 
 in Luther's mouth, a truism in Melanchthon's. I thought 
 that the Anglican Church followed Melanchthon, and that 
 in consequence between Rome and Anglicanism, between 
 high Church and low Church, there was no real intellec- 
 tual difierence on the point. I wished to fill up a ditch, 
 the work of man. In this Volume again, I express my 
 desire to build up a system of theology out of the Anglican 
 divines, and imply that my dissertation was a tentative 
 Inquiry. I speak in the Preface of '* ofiering suggestions 
 towards a work, which must be uppermost in the mind of 
 every true son of the English Church at this day, — the 
 consolidation of a theological system, which, built upon 
 those formularies, to which all clergymen are bound, may 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 7'6 
 
 tend to Inform, persuade, and absorb into itself religious 
 minds, which, hitherto have fancied, that, on the peculiar 
 Protestant questions, they were seriously opposed to each 
 other."— P. vii. 
 
 In my University Sermons there is a series of discus- 
 sions upon the subject of Faith and Reason ; these again 
 were the tentative commencement of a grave and necessary 
 work, viz. an inquiry into the ultimate basis of religious 
 faith, prior to the distinction into Creeds. 
 
 In like manner in a Pamphlet, which I published in the 
 summer of 1838, is an attempt at placing the doctrine of 
 the Real Presence on an intellectual basis. The funda- 
 mental idea is consonant to that to which I had been so 
 long attached : it is the denial of the existence of space 
 except as a subjective idea of our minds. 
 
 The Church of the Fathers is one of the earliest pro- 
 ductions of the Movement, and appeared in numbers in 
 the British Magazine, being written with the aim of in- 
 troducing the religious sentiments, views, and customs of 
 the first ages into the modern Church of England. 
 
 The Translation of Fleury's Church History was com- 
 menced under these circumstances : — I was fond of Fleury 
 for a reason which I express in the Advertisement ; 
 because it presented a sort of photograph of ecclesiastical 
 history without any comment upon it. In the event, that 
 simple representation of the early centuries had a good 
 deal to do with unsettling me in my Anglicanism; but 
 how little I could anticipate this, will be seen in the fact 
 that the publication of Fleury was a favourite scheme 
 with Mr. Rose. He proposed it to me twice, between the 
 years 1834 and 1837 ; and I mention it as one out of 
 many particulars curiously illustrating how truly my 
 change of opinion arose, not from foreign influences, but 
 from the working of my own mind, and the accidents 
 around me. The date, from which the portion actually 
 
74 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 translated began, was determined by the Publislier on 
 reasons with wliicli we were not concerned. 
 
 Another historical work, but drawn from original 
 sources, was given to the world by my old friend Mr. 
 Bowden, being a Life of Pope Gregory YII. I need 
 scarcely recall to those who have read it, the power and 
 the liveliness of the narrative. This composition was the 
 author's relaxation, on evenings and in his summer vaca- 
 tions, from his ordinary engagements in London. It had 
 been suggested to him originally by me, at the instance of 
 Hurrell Froude. 
 
 The Series of the Lives of the English Saints was pro- 
 jected at a later period, under circumstances which I shall 
 have in the sequel to describe. Those beautiful composi- 
 tions have nothing in them, as far as I recollect, simply 
 inconsistent with the general objects which I have been 
 assigning to my labours in these years, though the im- 
 mediate occasion which led to them, and the tone in 
 which they were written, had little that was congenial 
 with Anglicanism. 
 
 At a comparatively early date I drew up the Tract on 
 the Roman Breviary. It frightened my own friends on 
 its first appearance ; and several years afterwards, when 
 younger men began to translate for publication the four 
 volumes in extenso, they were dissuaded from doing so by 
 advice to which from a sense of duty they listened. It was 
 an apparent accident, which introduced me to the know- 
 ledge of that most wonderful and most attractive monu- 
 ment of the devotion of saints. On Hurrell Froude's 
 death, in 1836, I was asked to select one of his books as a 
 keepsake. I selected Butler's Analogy; finding that it 
 had been already chosen, I looked with some perplexity 
 along the shelves as they stood before me, when an inti- 
 mate friend at my elbow said, *' Take that." It was the 
 Breviary which Hurrell had had with him at Barbadoes. 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 75 
 
 Accordingly I took it, studied it, wrote my Tract from 
 it, and have it on my table in constant use till this 
 day. 
 
 That dear and familiar companion, who thus put the 
 Breviary into my hands, is still in the Anglican Church. 
 So, too, is that early venerated long-loved friend, together 
 with whom I edited a work which, more perhaps than any 
 other, caused disturbance and annoyance in the Anglican 
 world, — Froude's Eemains; j^et, however judgments might 
 run as to the prudence of publishing it, I never heard any 
 one impute to Mr. Keble the very shadow of dishonesty or 
 treachery towards his Church in so acting. 
 
 The annotated Translation of the Treatises of St. Atha- 
 nasius was of course in no sense of a tentative character ; 
 it belongs to another order of thought. This historico- 
 dogmatic work employed me for years. I had made pre- 
 parations for following it up with a doctrinal history of the 
 heresies which succeeded to the Arian. 
 
 I should make mention also of the British Critic. I was 
 Editor of it for three years, from July 1838 to July 1841. 
 My writers belonged to various schools, some to none at all. 
 The subjects are various, — classical, academical, political, 
 critical, and artistic, as well as theological, and upon the 
 Movement none are to be found which do not keep quite 
 clear of advocating the cause of Rome. 
 
 So I went on for years up to 1841. It was, in a human 
 point of view, the happiest time of my life. I was truly at 
 home. I had in one of my volumes appropriated to myself 
 the words of Bramhall, " Bees, by the instinct of nature, 
 do love their hives, and birds their nests." I did not sup- 
 pose that such sunshine would last, though I knew not 
 what would be its termination. It was the time of plenty, 
 and, during its seven years, I tried to lay up as much as I 
 could for the dearth which was to follow it. AYe prospered 
 
76 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 and spread. I have spoken of the doings of these years, 
 since I was a Catholic, in a passage, part of which I will 
 here quote : 
 
 "From beginnings so small," I said, "from elements of 
 thought so fortuitous, with prospects so unpromising, the 
 Anglo-Catholic party suddenly became a power in the Na- 
 tional Church, and an object of alarm to her rulers and 
 friends. Its originators would have found it difficult to 
 say what they aimed at of a practical kind : rather, they 
 put forth views and principles for their own sake, because 
 they were true, as if thej^ were obliged to say them ; and, 
 as they might be themselves surprised at their earnestness 
 in uttering them, they had as great cause to be surprised 
 at the success which attended their propagation. And, in 
 fact, they could only say that those doctrines were in the 
 air ; that to assert was to prove, and that to explain was to 
 persuade ; and that the Movement in which they were 
 taking part was the birth of a crisis rather than of a 
 place. In a very few years a school of opinion was 
 formed, fixed in its principles, indefinite and progressive 
 in their range ; and it extended itself into every part of 
 the country. If we inquire what the world thought of it, 
 we have still more to raise our wonder ; for, not to mention 
 the excitement it caused in England, the Movement and 
 its party-names were known to the police of Italy and to 
 the back-woodmen of America. And so it proceeded, 
 getting stronger and stronger every year, till it came 
 into collision with the Nation, and that Church of the 
 Nation, which it began by professing especially to serve." 
 
 The greater its success, the nearer was that collision at 
 hand. The first threatenings of what was coming were 
 heard in 1838. At that time, my Bishop in a Charge 
 made some light animadversions, but they were animad- 
 versions, on the Tracts for the Times. At once I offered 
 to stop them. What took place on the occasion I prefer 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 77 
 
 to state in the words, in which. I related it in a Pamphlet 
 addressed to him in a later year, when the blow actually 
 came down upon me. 
 
 " In your Lordship's Charge for 1838/' I said, " an al- 
 lusion was made to the Tracts for the Times. Some oppo- 
 nents of the Tracts said that you treated them with undue 
 indulgence. ... I wrote to the Archdeacon on the sub- 
 ject, submitting the Tracts entirely to your Lordship's dis- 
 posal. What I thought about your Charge will appear from 
 the words I then used to him. I said, ' A Bishop's lightest 
 word ex cathedra is heavy. His judgment on a book cannot 
 be light. It is a rare occurrence.' And I offered to with- 
 draw any of the Tracts over which I had control, if I were 
 informed . which were those to which, your Lordship had 
 objections. I afterwards wrote to your Lordship to this 
 effect, that ' I trusted I might say sincerely, that I should 
 feel a more lively pleasure in knowing that I was submit- 
 ting myself to your Lordship's expressed judgment in a 
 matter of that kind, than I could have even in the widest 
 circulation of the volumes in question.' Your Lordship 
 did not think it necessary to proceed to such a measure, but 
 I felt, and always have felt, that, if ever you determined on 
 it, I was bound to obey." 
 
 That day at length came, and I conclude this portion of 
 my narrative, with relating the circumstances of it. 
 
 From the time that I had entered upon the duties of Public 
 Tutor at my College, when my doctrinal views were very 
 different from what they were in 1841, I had meditated a 
 comment upon the Articles. Then, when the Movement 
 was in its swing, friends had said to me, " What will you 
 make of the Articles ?" but I did not share the apprehen- 
 sion which their question implied. Whether, as time went 
 on, I should have been forced, by the necessities of the ori- 
 ginal theory of the Movement, to put on paper the specu- 
 
78 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 lations wliicli I had about them, I am not able to conjec- 
 ture. The actual cause of my doing so, in the beginning 
 of 1841, was the restlessness, actual and prospective, of 
 those who neither liked the Via Media, nor my strong 
 judgment against Eome. I had been enjoined, I think 
 by my Bishop, to keep these men straight, and I wished 
 so to do : but their tangible difficulty was subscription 
 to the. Articles; and thus the question of the Articles 
 came before me. It was thrown in our teeth ; " How 
 can you manage to sign the Articles ? they are directly 
 against Home." "Against Rome?" I made answer, 
 "What do you mean by 'Rome?'" and then I pro- 
 ceeded to make distinctions, of which I shall now give 
 an account. 
 
 By "Roman doctrine" might be meant one of three 
 things : 1, the Catholic teaching of the early centuries ; 
 or 2, the fo7'mal dogmas of Home as contained in the later 
 Councils, especially the Council of Trent, and as condensed 
 in the Creed of Pope Pius TV. ; 3, the actual popular beliefs 
 and usages sanctioned by Rome in the countries in commu- 
 nion with it, over and above the dogmas ; and these I 
 called "dominant errors." Now Protestants commonly 
 thought that in all three senses, " Roman doctrine " 
 was condemned in the Articles : I thought that the 
 Catholic teaching was not condemned; that the dominant 
 errors were ; and as to the formal dogmas, that some 
 were, some were not, and that the line had to be drawn 
 between them. Thus, 1. The use of Prayers for the dead 
 was a Catholic doctrine,— not condemned in the Articles; 
 2. The prison of Purgatory was a Roman dogma, — which 
 was condemned in them ; but the infallibility of Ecu- 
 menical Councils was a Roman dogma, — not condemned ; 
 and 3. The fire of Purgatory was an authorized and popular 
 error, not a dogma, — which was condemned. 
 
 Purther, I considered that the difficulties, felt by the 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 79 
 
 persons whom I have mentioned, mainlj- lay in their mis- 
 taking, 1, Catholic teaching, which was not condemned in 
 the Articles, for Eoman dogma which was condemned ; 
 and 2, Eoman dogma, which was not condemned in the 
 Articles, for dominant error which was. If they went 
 further than this, I had nothing more to say to them. 
 
 A further motive which I had for my attempt, was the 
 desire to ascertain the ultimate points of contrariety be- 
 tween the Eoman and Anglican creeds, and to make them 
 as few as possible. I thought that each creed was obscured 
 and misrepresented by a dominant circumambient ''Popery" 
 and ''Protestantism.'' 
 
 The main thesis then of my Essay was this :— the Articles 
 do not oppose Catholic teaching ; they but partially oppose 
 Eoman dogma ; they for the most part oppose the domi- 
 nant errors of Eome. And the problem was, as I have said, 
 to draw the line as to what they allowed and what they 
 condemned. 
 
 Such being the object which I had in view, what were 
 my prospects of wideuing aijd of defining their meaning ? 
 The prospect was encouraging ; there was no doubt at all 
 of the elasticity of the Articles : to take a palmary instance, 
 the seventeenth was assumed by one party to be Lutheran, 
 by another Calvinistic, though the two interi)retations were 
 contradictory of each other ; why then should not other 
 Articles be drawn up with a vagueness of an equally intense 
 character ? I wanted to ascertain what was the limit of 
 that elasticity in the direction of Eoman dogma. But next, 
 I had a way of inquiry of my own, which I state without 
 defending. I instanced it afterwards in my Essay on 
 Doctrinal Development. That work, I believe, I have not 
 read since I published it, and I do not doubt at all I have 
 made many mistakes in it ;— partly, from my ignorance of 
 the details of doctrine, as the Church of Eome holds them, 
 but partly from my impatience to clear as large a range for 
 
80 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 the princqole of doctrinal Development (waiving the question 
 of historical fact) as was consistent with the strict Aposto- 
 licity and identity of the Catholic Creed. In like manner, 
 as regards the 39 Articles, my method of inquiry was to 
 leap in medias res. I wished to institute an inquiry 
 how far, in critical fairness, the text could be opened ; I 
 was aiming far more at ascertaining what a man who sub- 
 scribed it might hold than what he must, so that my con- 
 clusions were negative rather than positive. It was but a 
 first essay. And I made it with the full recognition and 
 consciousness, which I had already expressed in my Pro- 
 phetical Office, as regards the Via Media, that I was making 
 only *' a first approximation to the required solution ;" — " a 
 series of illustrations supplying hints for the removal " of 
 a difficulty, and with full acknowledgment '' that in minor 
 points, whether in question of fact or of judgment, there 
 was room for difference or error of opinion," and that I 
 '' should not be ashamed to own a mistake, if it were 
 proved against me, nor reluctant to bear the just blame of 
 it."_Proph. Off. p. 31. 
 
 I will add, I was embarrassed in consequence of my wish 
 to go as far as was possible in interpreting the Articles in 
 the direction of Roman dogma, without disclosing what I 
 was doing to the parties whose doubts I was meeting ; who, 
 if they understood at once the full extent of the licence 
 which the Articles admitted, might be thereby encouraged 
 to proceed still further than at present they found in them- 
 selves any call to go. 
 
 1. But in the way of such an attempt comes the prompt 
 objection that the Articles were actually drawn up against 
 " Popery," and therefore it was transcendently absurd and 
 dishonest to suppose that Popery, in any shape, — patristic 
 belief, Tridentine dogma, or popular corruption authorita- 
 tively sanctioned, — would be able to take refuge under their 
 text. This iDremiss I denied. Not any religious doctrine 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 81 
 
 at all, but a political principle, was the primary English, 
 idea of "Popery" at the date of the Reformation. And 
 what was that political principle, and how could it best be 
 suppressed in England ? What was the great question in the 
 days of Henry and Elizabeth ? The Siq:)remacy ; —now, 
 was I saying one single word in favour of the Supremacy 
 of the Holy See, in favour of the foreign jurisdiction ? No ; 
 I did not believe in it myself. Did Henry VIII. religiously 
 hold Justification by faith only ? did he disbelieve Purga- 
 tory ? Was Elizabeth zealous for the marriage of the 
 Clergy? or had she a conscience against the Mass ? The 
 Supremacy of the Pope was the essence of the " Popery " 
 to which, at the time of the composition of the Articles, the 
 Supreme Head or Governor of the English Church was so 
 violently hostile. 
 
 2. But again I said this : —let *' Popery " mean what it 
 would in the mouths of the compilers of the Articles, let 
 it even, for argument's sake, include the doctrines of that 
 Tridentine Council, which was not yet over when the 
 Articles were drawn up, and against which they could not 
 be simply directed, yet, consider, what was the object of 
 the Government in their imposition ? merely to get rid of 
 "Popery?" No; it had the further object of gaining 
 the " Papists." What then was the best way to induce 
 reluctant or wavering minds, and these, I supposed, were 
 the majority, to give in their adhesion to the new symbol? 
 how had the Arians drawn up their Creeds ? was it not on 
 the principle of using vague ambiguous language, which 
 to the subscribers would seem to bear a Catholic sense, 
 but which, when worked out on the long run, would prove 
 to be heterodox? Accordingly^, there was great ante- 
 cedent probability, that, fierce as the Articles might look 
 at first sight, their bark would prove worse than their 
 bite. I say antecedent probability, for to what extent 
 
82 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 that surmise miglit be true, could only be ascertained by 
 investigation. 
 
 3. But a consideration came up at once, wbicb threw 
 light on this surmise : — what if it should turn out that the 
 very men who drew up the Articles, in the very act of 
 doing so, had avowed, or rather in one of those very Arti- 
 cles themselves had imposed on subscribers, a number of 
 those very "Papistical" doctrines, which they were now 
 thought to deny, as part and parcel of that very Protes- 
 tantism, which they were now thought to consider divine ? 
 and this was the fact, and I showed it in my Essay. 
 
 Let the reader observe : — the 35th Article says : " The 
 second Book of Homilies doth contain a godly and ivholesome 
 doctrine, and necessary for these times, as doth the former 
 Book of Homilies." Here the doctrine of the Homilies is 
 recognized as godly and wholesome, and concurrence in 
 that recognition is imposed on all subscribers of the Arti- 
 cles. Let us then turn to the Homilies, and see what this 
 godly doctrine is : I quoted from them to the following 
 effect : 
 
 1. They declare that the so-called "apocryphal" book 
 of Tobit is the teaching of the Holy Ghost, and is Scrip- 
 ture. 
 
 2. That the so-called " apocryphal " book of Wisdom is 
 Scripture, and the infallible and undeceivable word of God. 
 
 3. That the Primitive Church, next to the Apostles' 
 time, and, as they imply, for almost 700 years, is no doubt 
 most pure. 
 
 4. That the Primitive Church is specially to be fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 5. That the Four first General Councils belong to the 
 Primitive Church. 
 
 6. That there are Six Councils which are allowed and 
 received by all men 
 
 i 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 83 
 
 7. Again, tliey speak of a certain trutli, and say that it 
 is declared by God's word, the sentences of the ancient 
 doctors, and judgment of the Primitive Church. 
 
 8. Of the learned and holy Bishops and doctors of the 
 Church of the first eight centuries being of great autho- 
 rity and credit with the people. 
 
 9. Of the declaration of Christ and His Apostles and all 
 the rest of the Holy Fathers. 
 
 10. Of the authority both of Scripture and also of 
 Augustine. 
 
 11. Of Augustine, Chrysostom, Ambrose, Jerome, and 
 about thirty other Fathers, to some of whom they give the 
 title of *' Saint," to others of '' ancient Catholic Fathers 
 and doctors, &c." 
 
 12. They declare that, not only the holy Apostles and 
 disciples of Christ, but the godly Fathers also, before and 
 since Christ, were endued without doubt with the Holy 
 Ghost. 
 
 13. That the ancient Catholic Fathers say that the 
 *' Lord's Supper" is the salve of immortality, the sovereign 
 preservative against death, the food of immortality, the 
 healthful grace. 
 
 14. That the Lord's Blessed Body and Blood are re- 
 ceived under the form of bread and wine. 
 
 15. That the meat in the Sacrament is an invisible meat 
 and a ghostly substance. 
 
 16. That the holy Body and Blood of thy God ought to 
 be touched with the mind. 
 
 17. That Ordination is a Sacrament. 
 
 18. That Matrimony is a Sacrament. 
 
 19. That there are other Sacraments besides " Baptism 
 and the Lord's Supper," though not " such as " they. 
 
 20. That the souls of the Saints are reigning in joy and 
 in heaven with God. 
 
 21. That alms-deeds purge the soul from the infection 
 
84 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OFINIOXS 
 
 and filthy spots of sin, and are a precious medicine, an 
 inestimable jewel. 
 
 22. That mercifulness wipes out and washes away sins, 
 as salves and remedies to heal sores and grievous diseases. 
 
 23. That the duty of fasting is a truth more manifest 
 than it should need to be proved. 
 
 24. That fasting, used with prayer, is of great efficacy 
 and weigheth much with God ; so the Angel Raphael told 
 Tobias. 
 
 25. That the puissant and mighty Emperor Theodosius 
 was, in the Primitive Church which was most holy and 
 godly, excommunicated by St. Ambrose. 
 
 26. That Constantine, Bishop of Rome, did condemn 
 Philippicus, then Emperor, not without a cause indeed, 
 but very justty. 
 
 Putting altogether aside the question how far these 
 separate theses came under the matter to which subscrip- 
 tion was to be made, it was quite plain, that in the minds 
 of the men who wrote the Homilies, and who thus incor- 
 porated them into the Anglican system of doctrine, there 
 was no such nice discrimination between the Catholic 
 and the Protestant faith, no such clear recognition of 
 formal Protestant principles and tenets, no such accurate 
 definition of "Roman doctrine, "as is received at the present 
 day : — hence great probability accrued to my presentiment, 
 that the Articles were tolerant, not only of what I called 
 "Catholic teaching," but of much that was "Roman." 
 
 4. And here was another reason against the notion that 
 the Articles directly attacked the Roman dogmas as de- 
 clared at Trent and as promulgated by Pius the Fourth: — 
 the Council of Trent was not over, nor its Canons promul- 
 gated at the date when the Articles were drawn up ^, so 
 
 ^ The Pope's Confirmation of the Council, by which its Canons became de 
 fide, and his Bull super confirniatione by which they were promulgated to the 
 world, are dated January 26, i5(>4. The Articles are dated J5G2. 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 85 
 
 that those Articles must be aiming at something else ? 
 What was that something else ? The Homilies tell us : the 
 Homilies are the best comment upon the Articles. Let us 
 turn to the Homilies, and we shall find from first to last 
 that, not only is not the Catholic teaching of the first 
 centuries, but neither again are the dogmas of Rome, the 
 objects of the protest of the compilers of the Articles, but 
 the dominant errors, the popular corruptions, authorized 
 or sufiered by the high name of Rome. The eloquent de- 
 clamation of the Homilies finds its matter almost exclu- 
 sively in the dominant errors. As to Catholic teaching, 
 nay as to Roman dogma, of such theology those Homilies, 
 as I have shown, contained no small portion themselves. 
 
 5. So much for the writers of the Articles and Homi- 
 lies ; — they were witnesses, not authorities, and I used them 
 as such ; but in the next place, who were the actual autho- 
 rities imposing them ? I reasonably considered the autho- 
 rit}^ imponens to be the Convocation of 1571 ; but here 
 again, it would be found that the very Convocation, which 
 received and confirmed the 39 Articles, also enjoined by 
 Canon that "preachers should be careful, that they should 
 never teach aught in a sermon, to be religiously held and 
 believed by the people, except that which is agreeable to 
 the doctrine of the Old and New Testament, and ichich the 
 Catholic Fathers and ancient JBishops have collected from that 
 very doctrine." Here, let it be observed, an appeal is 
 made by the Convocation imponens to the very same an- 
 'cient authorities, as had been mentioned with such pro- 
 found veneration by the writers of the Homilies and 
 the Articles, and thus, if the Homilies contained views of 
 doctrine which now would be called Roman, there seemed 
 to me to be an extreme probability that the Convocation 
 of 1571 also countenanced and received, or at least did not 
 reject, those doctrines. 
 
 6. And further, when at length I came actually to look 
 
86 HISTOUY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 into the text of tlie Articles, I saw in many cases a patent 
 justification of all that I had surmised as to their vagueness 
 and indecisiveness, and that, not only on questions which, 
 lay between Lutherans, Calvinists, and Zuinglians, but on 
 Catholic questions also ; and I have noticed them in my 
 Tract. In the conclusion of my Tract I observe : The 
 Articles are " evidently framed on the principle of leaving 
 open large questions on which the controversy hinges. 
 They state broadly extreme truths, and are silent about 
 their adjustment. For instance, they say that all neces- 
 sary faith must be proved from Scripture ; but do not say 
 who is to prove it. They say, that the Church has autho- 
 rity in controversies ; they do not say ichat authority. 
 They say that it may enforce nothing beyond Scripture, 
 but do not say where the remedy lies when it does. They 
 say that works before grace ajul justification are worthless 
 and worse, and that works after grace and justification are 
 acceptable, but they do not speak at all of works with 
 God's aid hefore justification. They say that men are law- 
 fully called and sent to minister and preach, who are 
 chosen and called by men who have public authority given 
 them in the Congregation ; but they do not add hy whom 
 the authority is to be given. They say that Councils 
 called by princes may err ; they do not determine whether 
 Councils called in the name of Christ may err." 
 
 Such were the considerations which weighed with me in 
 my inquir}^ how far the Articles were tolerant of a Catho- 
 lic, or even a Roman interpretation ; and such was the* 
 defence which I made in my Tract for having attempted 
 it. From what I have already said, it will appear that I 
 have no need or intention at this day to maintain every 
 particular interpretation which I suggested in the course 
 of my Tract, nor indeed had I then. Whether it was 
 prudent or not, whether it was sensible or not, any how I 
 attempted only a first essay of a necessary work, an essay 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. S7 
 
 wMch, as I was quite prepared to find, would require 
 revision and modification by means of tlie lights which I 
 should gain from the criticism of others. I should have 
 gladly withdrawn any statement, which could be proved 
 to me to be erroneous ; I considered my work to be faulty 
 and open to objection in the same sense in which I now con- 
 sider my Anglican interpretations of Scripture to be erro- 
 neous ; but in no other sense. I am surprised that men 
 do not apply to the interpreters of Scripture generally the 
 hard names which they apply to the author of Tract 90. 
 He held a large system of theology, and applied it to the 
 Articles : Episcopalians, or Lutherans, or Presbyterians, 
 or Unitarians, hold a large system of theology and apply 
 it to Scripture. Every theology has its difficulties ; Pro- 
 testants hold justification by faith only, though there is 
 no text in St. Paul which enunciates it, and though St. 
 James expressly denies it ; do we therefore call Protestants 
 dishonest ? they deny that the Church has a divine mission, 
 though St. Paul says that it is ''the Pillar and ground of 
 Truth ;" they keep the Sabbath, though St. Paul says, 
 " Let no man judge you in meat or drink or in respect of 
 . . . the sabbath daj^s." Every creed has texts in its 
 favour, and again texts which run counter to it : and this 
 is generally confessed. And this is what I felt keenly: — 
 how had I done worse in Tract 90 than Anglicans, Wes- 
 leyans, and Calvinists did daily in their Sermons and their 
 publications ? how had I done worse, than the Evangelical 
 party in their ex animo reception of the Services for Bap- 
 tism and Yisitation of the Sick * ? Why was I to be dis- 
 
 * For instance, let candid men consider the form of Absolution contained in 
 that Prayer Book, of which all clergymen, Evangelical and Liberal as well as 
 high Church, and (I think) all persons in University office declare that " it 
 containeth nothing contrary to the Word of God." 
 
 I challenge, in the sight of all England, Evangelical clergymen generally, to 
 put on paper an interpretation of this form of words, consistent with their 
 
88 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 honest and they immaculate ? There was an occasion on 
 which our Lord gave an answer, which seemed to be 
 appropriate to my own case, when the tumult broke out 
 against my Tract : — " He that is without sin among you, 
 let him first cast a stone at him." I could have fancied that 
 a sense of their own difficulties of interpretation would have 
 persuaded the great party I have mentioned to some pru- 
 dence, or at least moderation, in opposing a teacher of an 
 opposite school. But I suppose their alarm and their 
 anger overcame their sense of justice. 
 
 In the sudden storm of indignation with which the 
 Tract was received throughout the country on its appear- 
 ance, I recognize much of real religious feeling, much of 
 honest and true principle, much of straightforward igno- 
 rant common sense. In Oxford there was genuine feeling 
 too ; but there had been a smouldering, stern, energetic 
 animosity, not at all unnatural, partly rational, against its 
 author. A false step had been made ; now was the time 
 for action. I am told that, even before the publication of 
 the Tract, rumours of its contents had got into the hostile 
 camp in an exaggerated form ; and not a moment was lost 
 in proceeding to action, when I was actually fallen into the 
 hands of the Philistines. I was quite unprepared for the 
 
 sentiments, which shall be less forced than the most objectionable of the inter- 
 pretations which Tract 90 puts upon any passage in the Articles. 
 
 " Our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath left power to His Church to absolve all 
 sinners who truly repent and believe in Him, of His great mercy forgive thee 
 thine offences ; and by His authority committed to me, I absolve thee from 
 all thy sins, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 
 Ghost. Amen." 
 
 I subjoin the Roman form, as used in England and elsewhere: " Dominus 
 noster Jesus Christus te absolvat; et ego auctoritate ipsius te absolve, ab 
 omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti, in quantum possum et tu 
 indiges. Deinde ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis, in nomine Patris et Filii et 
 Spiiitus Sancti. Amen." 
 
FROM 1833 TO 1839. 89 
 
 outbreak, and was startled at its violence. I do not tliink 
 I had any fear. Nay, I will add, I am not sure that it 
 was not in one point of view a relief to me. 
 
 I saw indeed clearly that my place in the Movement 
 was lost ; public confidence was at an end ; my occupation 
 was gone. It was simply an impossibility that I could 
 say any thing henceforth to good effect, when I had been 
 posted up by the marshal on the buttery-hatch of every 
 College of my University, after the manner of discom- 
 moned pastry-cooks, and when in every part of the country 
 and ever}^ class of society, through every organ and oppor- 
 tunity of opinion, in newspapers, in periodicals, at meet- 
 ings, in pulpits, at dinner-tables, in coffee-rooms, in railway 
 carriages, I was denounced as a traitor who had laid his 
 train and was detected in the very act of firing it against 
 the time-honoured Establishment. There were indeed men, 
 besides my own immediate friends, men of name and posi- 
 tion, who gallantly took my part, as Dr. Hook, Mr. 
 Palmer, and Mr. Perceval ; it must have been a grievous 
 trial for themselves : yet what after all could they do for 
 me ? Confidence in me was lost ; — but I had already lost 
 full confidence in myself. Thoughts had passed over me 
 a year, and a half before in respect to the Anglican claims, 
 which for the time had profoundly troubled me. They had 
 gone : I had not less confidence in the power and the 
 prospects of the Apostolical movement than before ; not 
 less confidence than before in the grievousness of what I 
 called the " dominant errors " of Pome : but how was I 
 any more to have absolute confidence in myself? how was 
 I to have confidence in my present confidence ? how was I 
 to be sure that I should always think as I thought now ? 
 I felt that by this event a kind Providence had saved me 
 from an impossible position in the future. 
 
 First, if I remember right, they wished me to withdraw 
 
90 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 the Tract. This I refused to do : I would not do so for 
 the sake of those who were unsettled or in danger of un- 
 settlement. I would not do so for my own sake ; for how 
 could I acquiesce in a mere Protestant interpretation of 
 the Articles ? how could I range myself among the pro- 
 fessors of a theology, of which it put my teeth on edge 
 even to hear the sound ? 
 
 Next they said, '' Keep silence ; do not defend the 
 Tract;'' I answered, ''Yes, if you will not condemn it, — if 
 you will allow it to continue on sale." They pressed on 
 me whenever I gave way ; they fell back when they saw 
 me obstinate. Their line of action was to get out of me 
 as much as they could ; but upon the point of their 
 tolerating the Tract I toas obstinate. So they let me con- 
 tinue it on sale ; and they said they would not condemn 
 it. But they said that this was on condition that I did 
 not defend it, that I stopped the series, and that I myself 
 published my own condemnation in a letter to the Bishop 
 of Oxford. I impute nothing whatever to him, he was 
 ever most kind to me. Also, they said they could not 
 answer for what some individual Bishops might perhaps 
 say about the Tract in their own charges. I agreed to 
 their conditions. My one point was to save the Tract. 
 
 JN'ot a line in writing was given me, as a pledge of the 
 observance of the main article on their side of the eno^aofe- 
 ment. Parts of letters from them were read to me, with- 
 out being put into my hands. It was an ''understanding." 
 A clever man had warned me against " understandings " 
 some six years before : I have hated them ever since. 
 
 In the last words of my letter to the Bishop of Oxford I 
 thus resigned my place in the Movement : — 
 
 " I have nothing to be sorry for," I say to him, " except 
 having made your Lordship anxious, and others whom I 
 am bound to revere. I have nothing to be sorry for, but 
 everything to rejoice in and be thankful for. I have never 
 
PROM 1833 TO 1839. 91 
 
 taken pleasure in seeming to be able to move a party, and 
 whatever influence I have had, has been found, not sought 
 after. I have acted because others did not act, and have 
 sacrificed a quiet which I prized. May God be with me 
 in time to come, as He has been hitherto ! and He will be, 
 if I can but keep my hand clean and my heart pure. I 
 think I can bear, or at least will try to bear, any personal 
 humiliation, so that I am preserved from betraying sacred 
 interests, which the Lord of grace and power has given 
 into my charged" 
 
 1 To the Pamphlets published in my behalf at this time I should add 
 ''One Tract more," an able and generous defence of Tractarianism and No. 
 90, by the present Lord Houghton. 
 
92 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 CHAPTER TIL 
 
 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS FROM 1839 TO 1841. 
 
 And now that I am about to trace, as far as I can, the 
 course of that great revolution of mind, which led me to 
 leave my own home, to which I was bound by so many 
 strong and tender ties, I feel overcome with the difficulty 
 of satisfying myself in my account of it, and have recoiled 
 from the attempt, till the near approach of the day, on 
 which these lines must be given to the world, forces me to 
 set about the task. For who can know himself, and the 
 multitude of subtle influences which act upon him ? And 
 who can recollect, at the distance of twenty- five years, all 
 that he once knew about his thoughts and his deeds, and 
 that, during a portion of his life, when, even at the time, 
 his observation, whether of himself or of the external 
 world, was less than before or after, by very reason of the 
 perplexity and dismay which weighed upon him,— when, 
 in spite of the light given to him according to his need 
 amid his darkness, yet a darkness it emphatically was ? 
 And who can suddenly gird himself to a new and anxious 
 undertaking, which he might be able indeed to perform 
 well, were full and calm leisure allowed him to look 
 through every thing that he had written, whether in 
 published works or private letters ? j^et again, granting 
 that calm contemplation of the past, in itself so desirable, 
 who could afford to be leisurely and deliberate, while he 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 93 
 
 practises on himself a cruel operation, the ripping up of 
 old griefs, and the venturing again upon the "infandum 
 dolor em " of years, in which the stars of this lower heaven 
 were one by one going out ? I could not in cool blood, 
 nor except upon the imperious call of duty, attempt what 
 I have set myself to do. It is both to head and heart an 
 extreme trial, thus to analyze what has so long gone by, 
 and to bring out the results of that examination. I have 
 done various bold things in my life : this is the boldest : 
 and, were I not sure I should after all succeed in my 
 object, it would be madness to set about it. 
 
 In the spring of 1839 my position in the Anglican 
 Church was at its height. I had supreme confidence in 
 my controversial status, and I had a great and still grow- 
 ing success, in recommending it to others. I had in the 
 foregoing autumn been somewhat sore at the Bishop's 
 Charge, but I have a letter which shows that all annoy- 
 ance had passed from my mind. In January, if I recollect 
 aright, in order to meet the popular clamour against my- 
 self and others, and to satisfy the Bishop, I had collected 
 into one all the strong things which they, and especially 
 I, had said against the Church of Rome, in order to their 
 insertion among the advertisements appended to our pub- 
 lications. Conscious as I was that my opinions in religion 
 were not gained, as the world said, from Roman sources, 
 but were, on the contrary, the birth of my own mind and 
 of the circumstances in which I had been placed, I had a 
 scorn of the imputations which were heaped upon me. It 
 was true that I held a large bold system of religion, very 
 unlike the Protestantism of the day, but it was the con- 
 centration and adjustment of the statements of great An- 
 glican authorities, and I had as much right to hold it, as the 
 Evangelical, and more right than the Liberal party could 
 show, for asserting their own respective doctrines. As I 
 
94 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 declared on occasion of Tract 90, I claimed, in behalf of 
 who would in the Anglican Church, the right of holding 
 with Bramhall a comprecation with the Saints, and the 
 Mass all but Transubstantiation with Andrewes, or with 
 Hooker that Transubstantiation itself is not a point for 
 Churches to part communion upon, or with Hammond 
 that a General Council, truly such, never did, never shall 
 err in a matter of faith, or with Bull that man had in para- 
 dise and lost on the fall, a supernatural habit of grace, or 
 with Thorndike that penance is a propitiation for post- 
 baptismal sin, or with Pearson that the all-powerful name 
 of Jesus is no otherwise given than in the Catholic 
 Church. "Two can play at that," was often in my 
 mouth, when men of Protestant sentiments appealed to 
 the Articles, Homilies, or Peformers ; in the sense that, if 
 they had a right to speak loud, I had the liberty to speak 
 out as well as they, and had the means, by the same or 
 parallel appeals, of giving them tit for tat. I thought that 
 the Anglican Church was tyrannized over by a mere party, 
 and I aimed at bringing into effect the promise contained 
 in the motto to the Lyra, " They shall know the difference 
 now." I only asked to be allowed to show them the 
 difference. 
 
 What will best describe mj state of mind at the early 
 part of 1839, is an Article in the British Critic for that 
 April. I have looked over it now, for the first time since 
 it was published ; and have been struck by it for this 
 reason : — it contains the last words which I ever spoke as 
 an Anglican to Anglicans. It may now be read as my 
 parting address and valediction, made to my friends. I 
 little knew it at the time. It reviews the actual state of 
 things, and it ends by looking towards the future. It is 
 not altogether mine ; for my memory goes to this, — that 
 I had asked a friend to do the work; that then, the 
 thought came on me, that I would do it myself: and that 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 95 
 
 he was good enough to put into mj hands what he had 
 with great appositeness written, and that I embodied it 
 in my Article. Every one, I think, will recognize the 
 greater part of it as mine. It was published two years 
 before the affair of Tract 90, and was entitled " The State 
 of Religious Parties.'^ 
 
 In this Article, I begin by bringing together testimonies 
 from our enemies to the remarkable success of our exer- 
 tions. One writer said : " Opinions and views of a theo- 
 logy of a very marked and peculiar kind have been exten- 
 sively adopted and strenuously upheld, and are daily 
 gaining ground among a considerable and influential por- 
 tion of the members, as well as ministers of the Estab- 
 lished Church." Another: The Movement has manifested 
 itself " with the most rapid growth of the hot-bed of these 
 evil days.'' Another: "The F/«iI/'^r//(^ is crowded with young 
 enthusiasts, who never presume to argue, except against 
 the propriety of arguing at all." Another : " Were I to 
 give you a full list of the works, which they have pro- 
 duced within the short space of five years, I should sur- 
 prise you. You would see what a task it would be to 
 make yourself complete master of their sj'stem, even in its 
 i# present probably immature state. The writers have ^ 
 adopted the motto, ' In quietness and confidence shall be 
 your strength.' With regard to confidence, they have 
 justified their adopting it ; but as to quietness, it is not 
 very quiet to pour forth such a succession of controversial 
 publications." Another : " The spread of these doctrines 
 is in fact now ha^^ng the effect of rendering all other dis- 
 tinctions obsolete, and of severing the religious community 
 into two portions, fundamentally and vehemently opposed 
 one to the other. Soon there will be no middle ground 
 left ; and every man, and especially every clergjTuan, will 
 be compelled to make his choice between the two.'* An- 
 other: "The time has gone by, when those unfortunate 
 
96 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 and deeply regretted publications can be passed over with- 
 out notice, and the hope that their influence would fail is 
 now dead." Another : " These doctrines had already 
 made fearful progress. One of the largest churches in 
 Brighton is crowded to hear them ; so is the church at 
 Leeds. There are few towns of note, to which they have 
 not extended. They are preached in small towns in Scot- 
 land. They obtain in Elginshire, 600 miles north of 
 London. I found them myself in the heart of the high- 
 lands of Scotland. They are advocated in the newspaper 
 and periodical press. They have even insinuated them- 
 selves into the House of Commons." And, lastly, a bishop 
 in a charge: — It *'is daily assuming a more serious and 
 alarming aspect. Under the specious pretence of deference 
 to Antiquity and respect for primitive models, the founda- 
 tions of the Protestant Church are undermined by men, 
 who dwell within her walls, and those who sit in the 
 Reformers' seat are traducing the Reformation." 
 
 After thus stating the phenomenon of the time, as it 
 presented itself to those who did not sympathize in it, the 
 Article proceeds to account for it ; and this it does by con- 
 sidering it as a re-action from the dry and superficial 
 character of the religious teaching and the literature of 
 the last generation, or century, and as a result of the need 
 which was felt both by the hearts and the intellects of the 
 nation for a deeper philosophy, and as the evidence and as 
 the partial fulfilment of that need, to which even the chief 
 authors of the then generation had borne witness. First, 
 I mentioned the literary influence of Walter Scott, who 
 turned men's minds in the direction of the middle ages. 
 ** The general need," I said, " of something deeper and 
 more attractive, than what had ofiered itself elsewhere, 
 may be considered to have led to his popularity ; and by 
 means of his popularity he re-acted on his readers, stimu- 
 lating their mental thirst, feeding their hopes, setting 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 97 
 
 before tliem Tisions, which, when once seen, are not easily 
 forgotten, and silently indoctrinating them with nobler 
 ideas, which might afterwards be appealed to as first 
 principles." 
 
 Then I spoke of Coleridge, thus : " "While history in 
 prose and verse was thus made the instrument of Church 
 feelings and opinions, a philosophical basis for the same 
 was laid in England by a very original thinker, who, 
 while he indulged a liberty of speculation, which no 
 Christian can tolerate, and advocated conclusions w^hich 
 were often heathen rather than Christian, yet after all 
 installed a higher philosophy into inquiring minds, than 
 they had hitherto been accustomed to accept. In this way 
 he made trial of his age, and succeeded in interesting its 
 genius in the cause of Catholic truth." 
 
 Then come Southey and AYordsworth, **two living poets, 
 one of whom in the department of fantastic fiction, the 
 other in that of philosophical meditation, have addressed 
 themselves to the same high principles and feelings, and 
 carried forward their readers in the same direction." 
 
 Then comes the prediction of this re-action hazarded by 
 " a sagacious observer withdrawn from the world, and sur- 
 veying its movements from a distance," Mr. Alexander 
 Knox. He had said twenty years before the date of my 
 Article : ^' No Church on earth has more intrinsic ex- 
 cellence than the English Church, yet no Church probably 
 has less practical influence. . . . The rich provision, made 
 by the grace and providence of God, for habits of a noble 
 kind, is evidence that men shall arise, fitted both by 
 nature and ability, to discover for themselves, and to 
 display to o^.hers, whatever j^et remains undiscovered, 
 whether in the words or works of God." Also I referred 
 to " a much venerated clergyman of the last generation," 
 who said shortly before his death, " Depend on it, the day 
 will come, when those great doctrines, now buried, will be 
 
 H 
 
98 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 brought out to the light of day, and then the effect will be 
 fearful." I remarked upon this, that they who "now 
 blame the impetuosity of the current, should rather turn 
 their animadversions upon those who have dammed up a 
 majestic river, till it has become a flood. '^ 
 
 Tliese being the circumstances under which, the Move- 
 ment began and progressed, it was absurd to refer it to the 
 act of two or three individuals. It was not so much a 
 movement as a "spirit afloat;" it was within us, "rising 
 up in hearts where it was least suspected, and working 
 itself, though not in secret, yet so subtly and impalpably, 
 as hardly to admit of precaution or encounter on any 
 ordinary human rules of opposition. It is," I continued, 
 " an adversary in the air, a something one and entire, a 
 whole wherever it is, unapproachable and incapable of 
 being grasped, as being the result of causes far deeper 
 than political or other visible agencies, the spiritual 
 awakening of spiritual wants." 
 
 To make this clear, I proceed to refer to the chief 
 preachers of the revived doctrines at that moment, and to 
 draw attention to the variety of their respective ante- 
 cedents. Dr. Hook and Mr. Churton represented the 
 high Church dignitaries of the last century ; Mr. Perceval, 
 the Tory aristocracy; Mr. Keble came from a country par- 
 sonage ; Mr. Palmer from Ireland ; Dr. Pusey from the 
 Universities of Germany, and the study of Arabic MSS. ; 
 Mr. Dodsworth from the study of Prophecy ; Mr. Oakeley 
 had gained his views, as he himself expressed it, "partly 
 by study, partly by reflection, partly by conversation with 
 one or two friends, inquirers like himself:" while I speak 
 of myself as being " much indebted to the friendship of 
 Archbishop AYhately." And thus I am led on to ask, 
 " What head of a sect is there ? What march of opinions 
 can be traced from mind to mind among preachers such as 
 these ? They are one and all in their degree the organs 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 99 
 
 of one Sentiment, whicli has risen up simultaneously in 
 many places very mysteriously/* 
 
 My train of thought next led me to speak of the disci- 
 ples of the Movement, and I freely acknowledged and 
 lamented that they needed to be kept in order. It is very 
 much to the purpose to draw attention to this point now, 
 when such extravagances as then occurred, v/hatever they 
 were, are simply laid to my door, or to the charge of the 
 doctrines which I advocated. A man cannot do more 
 than freely confess what is wrong, say that it need not 
 be, that it ought not to be, and that he is very sorry that 
 it should be. Isow I said in the Article, which I am re- 
 viewing, that the great truths themselves, which we were 
 preaching, must not be condemned on account of such 
 abuse of them. " Aberrations there must ever be, what- 
 ever the doctrine is, while the human heart is sensitive, 
 capricious, and wayward. A mixed multitude went out of 
 Egypt with the Israelites." " There will ever be a num- 
 ber of persons," I continued, " professing the opinions of 
 a movement party, who talk loudlj^ and strangely, do odd 
 or fierce things, display themselves unnecessarily, and dis- 
 gust other people ; persons, too young to be wise, too 
 generous to be cautious, too warm to be sober, or too intel- 
 lectual to be humble. Such persons will be very apt to 
 attach themselves to particular persons, to use particular 
 names, to say things merely because others do, and to act 
 in a party -spirited way." 
 
 While I thus republish what I then said about such 
 extravagances as occurred in these years, at the same time 
 I have a very strong conviction that those extravagances 
 furnished quite as much the welcome excuse for those who 
 were jealous or shy of us, as the stumbling-blocks of those 
 who were well inclined to our doctrines. This too we felt 
 at the time; but it was our duty to see that our good 
 should not be evil-spoken of; and accordingly, two or 
 
100 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 three of tlie writers of the Tracts for the Times had com- 
 menced a Series of what they called ''Plain Sermons" 
 with the avowed purpose of discouraging and correcting 
 whatever was uppish or extreme in our followers : to this 
 Series I contributed a volume myself. 
 
 Its conductors say in their Preface : " If therefore as 
 time goes on, there shall be found persons, who admiring 
 the innate beauty and majesty of the fuller system of Pri- 
 mitive Christianity, and seeing the transcendent strength 
 of its principles, shall become loud and voluble advocates in 
 their behalf, speaking the more freely, because they do not 
 feel them deeply as founded in divine and eternal truth, of 
 such persons it is our duty to declare plainly, that, as we 
 should contemplate their condition with serious misgi^dng, 
 so would they be the last versons from whom tee should seek 
 support. 
 
 " But if, on the other hand, there shall be any, who, in 
 the silent humility of their lives, and in their unaffected 
 reverence for holy things, show that they in truth accept 
 these principles as real and substantial, and by habitual 
 purity of heart and serenity of temper, give proof of their 
 deep veneration for sacraments and sacramental ordinances, 
 those persons, whether our professed adherents or not, best 
 exemplify the kind of character which the writers of the 
 Tracts for the Times have wished to form.'' 
 
 These clergymen had the best of claims to use these 
 beautiful words, for they were themselves, all of them, 
 important writers in the Tracts, the two Mr. Kebles, and 
 Mr. Isaac Williams. And this passage, with which they 
 ushered their Series into the world, I quoted in the Article, 
 of which I am giving an account, and I added, "What 
 more can be required of the preachers of neglected truth, 
 than that they should admit that some, who do not assent 
 to their preaching, are holier and better men than some 
 who do ?" They were not answerable for the intemper- 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 101 
 
 ance of those who dishonoured a true doctrine, provided 
 they protested, as they did, against such intemperance. 
 "They were not answerable for the dust and din which 
 attends any great moral movement. The truer doctrines 
 are, the more liable they are to be perverted." 
 
 The notice of these incidental faults of opinion or temper 
 in adherents of the Movement, led on to a discussion of 
 the secondary causes, by means of which a system of doc- 
 trine may be embraced, modified, or developed, of the 
 variety of schools which may all be in the One Church, 
 and of the succession of one phase of doctrine to another, 
 while that doctrine is ever one and the same. Thus I was 
 brought on to the subject of Antiquity, which was the 
 basis of the doctrine of the Via Media, and by which was 
 not to be understood a servile imitation of the past, but 
 such a reproduction of it as is really new, while it is 
 old. " We have good hope,'' I say, " that a system will 
 be rising up, superior to the age, yet harmonizing with, 
 and carr^'ing out its higher points, which will attract to 
 itself those who are willing to make a venture and to face 
 difficulties, for the sake of something higher in prospect. 
 On this, as on other subjects, the proverb will apply, 
 * Fortes fortuna adjuvat.' " 
 
 Lastly, I proceeded to the question of that future of the 
 Anglican Church, which was to be a new birth of the 
 Ancient Eeligion. And I did not venture to pronounce 
 upon it. " About the future, we have no prospect before 
 our minds whatever, good or bad. Ever since that great 
 luminary, Augustine, proved to be the last bishop of 
 Hippo, Christians have had a lesson against attempting to 
 foretell, how Providence will prosper and " [or ?] " bring 
 to an end, what it begins." Perhaps the lately-revived 
 principles would prevail in the Anglican Church ; perhaps 
 they would be lost in *' some miserable schism, or some 
 more miserable com-oromise ; but there was nothing 
 
102 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 rasli in venturing to predict that "neither Puritanism 
 nor Liberalism had any permanent inheritance within 
 her." 
 
 Then I went on : " As to Liberalism, we think tho 
 formularies of the Church will ever, with the aid of a good 
 Providence, keep it from making any serious inroads upon 
 the clergy. Besides, it is too cold a principle to prevail 
 with the multitude." But as regarded what was called 
 Evangelical Eeligion or Puritanism, there was more to 
 cause alarm. I observed upon its organization; but on 
 the other hand it had no intellectual basis ; no internal 
 idea, no principle of unity, no theology. " Its adherents," 
 I said, " are already separating from each other ; they will 
 melt away like a snow-drift. It has no straightforward 
 view on any one point, on which it professes to teach, and 
 to hide its poverty, it has dressed itself out in a maze of 
 words. We have no dread of it at all ; we only fear what 
 it may lead to. It does not stand on intrenched ground, 
 or make any pretence to a position ; it does but occupy 
 the space between contending powers. Catholic Truth and 
 Rationalism. Then indeed will be the stern encounter, 
 when two real and living principles, simple, entire, and 
 consistent, one in the Church, the other out of it, at 
 length rush upon each other, contending not for names 
 and words, or half- views, but for elementary notions and 
 distinctive moral characters." 
 
 "Whether the ideas of the coming age upon religion 
 were true or false, at least they would be real. " In the 
 present day," I said, " mistiness is the mother of wisdom. 
 A man who can set down a half-a-dozen general j)roposi- 
 tions, which escape from destroying one another only by 
 being diluted into truisms, who can hold the balance be- 
 tween opposites so skilfully as to do without fulcrum or 
 beam, who never enunciates a truth without guarding 
 himself against being supposed to exclude the contradic- 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 10;J 
 
 tory, — wLo holds that Scripture is the only authority, yet 
 that the Church is to be deferred to, that faith onh^ 
 justifies, yet that it does not justify without works, that 
 grace does not depend on the sacraments, yet is not given 
 \^ithout them, that bishops are a divine ordinance, yet 
 those who have them not are in the same religious con- 
 dition as those who have, — this is your safe man and the 
 hope of the Church ; this is what the Church is said to 
 want, not party men, but sensible, temperate, sober, well- 
 judging persons, to guide it through the channel of no- 
 meaning, between the Scylla and Charybdis of Aye and 
 
 This state of things, however, I said, could not last, if 
 men were to read and think. They " will not keep in that 
 very attitude which you call sound Church-of-Englandism 
 or orthodox Protestantism. They cannot go on for ever 
 standing on one leg, or sitting without a chair, or walking 
 with their feet tied, or like Tityrus's stags grazing in the 
 air. They will take one view or another, but it will be a 
 consistent view. It may be Liberalism, or Erastianism, 
 or Popery, or Catholicity ; but it will be real." 
 
 I concluded the Article by saying, that all who did not 
 wish to be "democratic, or pantheistic, or popish," must 
 " look out for soiue Yia Media which will preserve us from 
 what threatens, though it cannot restore the dead. The 
 spirit of Luther is dead ; but Hildebrand and Loyola are 
 alive. Is it sensible, sober, judicious, to be so very angry 
 with those writers of the day, who point to the fact, that 
 our divines of the seventeenth century have occupied a 
 ground which is the true and intelligible mean between 
 extremes ? Is it wise to quarrel with this ground, because 
 it is not exactly what we should choose, had we the power 
 of choice? Is it true moderation, instead of trying to- 
 fortify a middle doctrine, to fling stones at those who do ? 
 . . . Would you rather have your sons and daiighteiB 
 
104 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OriNIONS 
 
 members of the Churcli of England or of the Church of 
 Eome?'' 
 
 And thus I left the matter. But, while I was thus 
 speaking of the future of the Movement, I was in truth 
 winding up my accounts with it, little dreaming that it 
 was so to be; — while I was still, in some way or other, 
 feeling about for an available Via 3Iedia, I was soon to 
 receive a shock which was to cast out of my imagination 
 all middle courses and compromises for ever. As I have 
 said, this Article appeared in the April number of the 
 British Critic ; in the July number, I cannot tell why, 
 there is no Article of mine ; before the number for 
 October, the event had happened to which I have 
 alluded. 
 
 But before I proceed to describe what happened to me 
 in the summer of 1839, I must detain the reader for a 
 while, in order to describe the issue of the controversy 
 between Rome and the Anglican Church, as I viewed it. 
 This will involve some dry discussion ; but it is as neces- 
 sary for my narrative, as plans of buildings and home- 
 steads are often found to be in the proceedings of our law 
 courts. 
 
 I have said already that, though the object of the Move- 
 ment was to withstand the Liberalism of the day, I found 
 and felt this could not be done by mere negatives. It was 
 necessary for us to have a positive Church theory erected 
 on a definite basis. This took me to the great Anglican 
 divines ; and then of course I found at once that it was 
 impossible to form any such theory, without cutting across 
 the teaching of the Church of Rome. Thus came in the 
 Roman controversy. 
 
 When I first turned myself to it, I had neither doubt 
 on the subject, nor suspicion that doubt would ever come 
 upon me. It was in this state of mind that I began to 
 
FEOM 1539 TO 1841. 105 
 
 read up Bellarmine on the one hand, and numberless 
 Anglican writers on the other. But I soon found, as 
 others had found before me, that it was a tangled and 
 manifold controversy, difficult to master, more difficult to 
 put out of hand with neatness and precision. It was easy 
 to make points, not easy to sum up and settle. It was not 
 easy to find a clear issue for the dispute, and still less by a 
 logical process to decide it in favour of Anglicanism. This 
 difficulty, however, had no tendency whatever to harass or 
 perplex me : it was a matter which bore not on convictions, 
 but on proofs. 
 
 First I saw, as all see who study the subject, that a 
 broad distinction had to be drawn between the actual state 
 of belief and of usage in the countries which were in com- 
 munion with the Roman Church, and her formal dogmas ; 
 the latter did not cover the former. Sensible pain, for 
 instance, is not implied in the Tridentine decree upon 
 Purgatory ; but it was the tradition of the Latin Church, 
 and I had seen the pictures of souls in flames in the streets 
 of J^aples. Bishop Lloyd had brought this distinction out 
 strongly in an Article in the British Critic in 1825; indeed, 
 it was one of the most common objections made to the 
 Church of Eome, that she dared not commit herself by 
 formal decree, to what nevertheless she sanctioned and 
 allowed. Accordingly, in my Prophetical Office, I view 
 as simply separate ideas, Pome quiescent, and Pome in 
 action. I contrasted her creed on the one hand, with her 
 ordinary teaching, her controversial tone, her political and 
 social bearing, and her popular beliefs and practices, on the 
 other. 
 
 While I made this distinction between the decrees and 
 the traditions of Pome, I drew a parallel distinction 
 between Anglicanism quiescent, and Anglicanism in action 
 In its formal creed Anglicanism was not at a great distance 
 from Pome : far otherwise, when viewed in its insular spirit, 
 
106 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 tlie traditions of its establisliment, its historical charac- 
 teristics, its controversial rancour, and its private judgment. 
 I disavowed and condemned those excesses, and called then 
 "Protestantism'* or " Ulra-Protestantism : " I wished t^ 
 find a parallel disclaimer, on the part of Roman controver- 
 sialists, of that popular system of beliefs and usages in 
 their own Church, which I called " Popery." When that 
 hope was a dream, I saw that the controversy lay between 
 the book- theology of Anglicanism on the one side, and the 
 living system of what I called Poman corruption on the 
 other. I could not get further than this ;. with this result 
 I was forced to content mj^self. 
 
 These then were the j9f«'^/(?s in the controversy : — the 
 Anglican Via Media and the popular religion of Pome. 
 And next, as to the issue, to which the controversy between 
 them was to be brought, it was this : — the Anglican dis- 
 putant took his stand upon Antiquity or Apostolicity, the 
 Poman upon Catholicity. The Anglican said to the 
 Ptoman : " There is but One Faith, the Ancient, and you 
 have not kept to it ;" the Poman retorted : "There is but 
 One Church, the Catholic, and you are out of it." The 
 Anglican urged " Your special beliefs, practices, modes of 
 action, are nowhere in Antiquity ;" the Poman objected : 
 " You do not communicate with any one Church besides 
 your own and its offshoots, and you have discarded prin- 
 ciples, doctrines, sacraments, and usages, which are and 
 ever have been received in the East and the West." The 
 true Church, as defined in the Creeds, was both Catholic 
 and Apostolic ; now, as I viewed the controversy in which 
 I was engaged, England and Pome had divided these 
 notes or prerogatives between them : the cause lay thus, 
 Apostolicity versus Catholicity. 
 
 However, in thus stating the matter, of course I do not 
 wish it supposed that I allowed the note of Catholicity 
 really to belong to Pome, to the disparagement of the 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 107 
 
 AngKcan Church ; but I considered that the special point 
 or plea of Eome in the controversy was Catholicity, as the 
 Anglican plea was Antiquity. Of course I contended that 
 the Roman idea of Catholicity was not ancient and apos- 
 tolic. It was in my judgment at the utmost only natural, 
 becoming, expedient, that the whole of Christendom should 
 be united in one visible body ; while such a unit}^ might, 
 on the other hand, be nothing more than a mere heartless 
 and political combination. For myself, I held with the 
 Anglican divines, that, in the Primitive Church, there was 
 a very real mutual independence between its separate 
 parts, though, from a dictate of charity, there was in fact 
 a close union between them. I considered that each See 
 and Diocese might be compared to a crystal, and that each 
 was similar to the rest, and that the sum total of them all 
 was only a collection of crystals. The unity of the Church 
 lay, not in its being a polity, but in its being a family, a 
 race, coming down by apostolical descent from its' first 
 founders and bishops. And I considered this truth brought 
 out, beyond the possibility of dispute, in the Epistles of St. 
 Ignatius, in which the Bishop is represented as the one 
 supreme authority in the Church, that is, in his own 
 place, with no one above him, except as, for the sake of 
 ecclesiastical order and expedience, arrangements had been 
 made by which one was put over or under another. So 
 much for our own claim to Catholicity, which was so per- 
 versely appropriated by our opponents to themselves : — on 
 the other hand, as to our special strong point, Antiquity, 
 while, of course, by means of it, we were able to condemn 
 most emphatically the novel claim of Rome to domineer 
 over other Churches, which were in truth her equals, fur- 
 ther than that, we thereby especially convicted her of the 
 intolerable offence of having added to the Faith. This 
 was the critical head of accusation urged against her by 
 the Anglican disputant ; and as he referred to St. Ignatius 
 
108 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 in proof that he himself was a true Catholic, in spite of 
 being separated from E-ome, so he triumphantly referred 
 to the Treatise of Yincentius of Lerins upon the " Quod 
 semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus," in proof that the 
 controversialists of Rome, in spite of their possession of 
 the Catholic name, were separated in their creed from the 
 Apostolical and primitive faith. 
 
 Of course those controversialists had their own mode of 
 answering him, with which I am not concerned in this place ; 
 here I am only concerned with the issue itself, between the 
 one party and the other — Antiquity 'versus Catholicity. 
 
 Now I will proceed to illustrate what I have been saying 
 of the status of the controversy, as it presented itself to my 
 mind, by extracts from my writings of the dates of 1836, 
 1840, and 1841. And I introduce them with a remark, 
 which especially applies to the paper, from which I shall 
 quote first, of the date of 1836. That paper appeared in 
 the March and April numbers of the British Magazine of 
 that year, and was entitled "Home Thoughts Abroad." 
 Kow it will be found, that, in the discussion which it con- 
 tains, as in various other writings of mine, when I was in 
 the Anglican Church, the argument in behalf of Rome is 
 stated with considerable perspicuity and force. And at 
 the time my friends and supporters cried out, " How im- 
 prudent ! " and, both at the time, and especially at a later 
 date, my enemies have cried out, "How insidious!" 
 Friends and foes virtually agreed in their criticism ; I had 
 set out the cause which I was combating to the best 
 advantage : this was an ofience ; it might be from impru- 
 dence, it might be with a traitorous design. It was from 
 neither the one nor the other ; but for the following 
 reasons. First, I had a great impatience, whatever was 
 the subject, of not bringing out the whole of it, as clearly 
 as I could ; next I wished to be as fair to my adversaries 
 as possible ; and thirdly I thought that there was a great 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 109 
 
 deal of shallowness among our own friends, and that they 
 undervalued the strength of the argument in behalf of 
 Borne, and that they ought to be roused to a more 
 exact apprehension of the position of the controYersy. At 
 a later date, (1841,) when I really felt the force of the 
 Roman side of the question myself, as a difficulty which 
 had to be met, I had a fourth reason for such frankness in 
 argument, and that was, because a number of persons were 
 unsettled far more than I was, as to the Catholicity of the 
 Anglican Church. It was quite plain that, unless I was 
 perfectly candid in stating what could be said against it, 
 there was no chance that any representations, which I felt 
 to be in its favour, or at least to be adverse to Rome, 
 would have had any success with the persons in question. 
 At all times I had a deep conviction, to put the matter on 
 the lowest ground, that " honesty was the best policy." 
 Accordingly, in July 1841, I expressed myself thus on the 
 Anglican difficulty : " This is an objection which we must 
 honestly say is deeply felt by many people, and not incon- 
 siderable ones ; and the more it is openly avowed to be a 
 difficulty, the better ; for there is then the chance of its 
 being acknowledged, and in the course of time obviated, as 
 far as may be, by those who have the power. Flagrant evils 
 cure themselves by being flagrant ; and we are sanguine 
 that the time is come when so great an evil as this is, 
 cannot stand its ground against the good feeling and 
 common sense of religious persons. It is the very strength 
 of Romanism against us ; and, unless the proper persons 
 take it into their serious consideration, they may look for 
 certain to undergo the loss, as time goes on, of some whom 
 they would least like to be lost to our Church." The 
 measure which I had especially in view in this passage, 
 was the project of a Jerusalem Bishopric, which the then 
 Archbishop of Canterbury was at that time concocting 
 with M. Bunsen, and of which I shall speak more in the 
 
no 
 
 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 sequel. And now to return to the Home Tliouglits Abroad 
 of the spring of 1836 :— 
 
 The discussion contained in this composition runs in 
 the form of a dialogue. One of the disputants says : 
 " You say to me that the Church of Eome is corrupt. 
 What then ? to cut off a limb is a strange way of saving 
 it from the influence of some coustitutional ailment. Indi- 
 gestion may cause cramp in the extremities ; yet we spare 
 our poor feet notwithstanding. Surely there is such a 
 religious fact as the existence of a great Catholic bod}', 
 union with which is a Christian privilege and duty. Kow, 
 we English are separate from it." 
 
 The other answers : " The present is an unsatisfactory, 
 miserable state of things, yet I can grant no more. The 
 Church is founded on a doctrine, — on the gospel of Truth ; 
 it is a means to an end. Perish the Church, (though, 
 blessed be the promise ! this cannot be,) yet let it perish 
 rather than the Truth should fail. Puritj^ of faith is more 
 precious to the Christian than unity itself. If Eome has 
 erred grievously in doctrine, then it is a duty to separate 
 even from Eome."" 
 
 His friend, who takes the Eoman side of the argument, 
 refers to the image of the Yine and its branches, which is 
 found, I think, in St. Cyprian, as if a branch cut from the 
 Catholic Yine must necessarily die. Also he quotes a 
 passage from St. Augustine in controversy with the Dona- 
 tists to the same effect ; viz. that, as being separated from 
 the body of the Church, they were ipso facto cut off from 
 the heritage of Christ. And he quotes St. Cyril's argu- 
 ment drawn from the very title Catholic, which no body 
 or communion of men has ever dared or been able to 
 appropriate, besides one. He adds, " J^ow I am only con- 
 tending for the fact, that the communion of Eome consti- 
 tutes the main body of the Church Catholic, and that we 
 are split off from it, and in the condition of the Donatists." 
 
FROM 18C9 TO 1841. Ill 
 
 The other replies by denjdng the fact that the present 
 Roman communion is like St. Augustine's Catholic Church, 
 inasmuch as there must be taken into account the large 
 Anglican and Greek communions. Presently he takes the 
 offensive, naming distinctly the points, in which Rome has 
 departed from Primitive Christianity, viz. '' the practical 
 idolatry, the virtual worship of the Virgin and Saints, 
 which are the offence of the Latin Church, and the degra- 
 dation of moral truth and duty, which follows from these.'* 
 And again : " We cannot join a Church, did we wish it 
 ever so much, which does not acknowledge our orders, 
 refuses us the Cup, demands our acquiescence in image- 
 worship, and excommunicates us, if we do not receive it 
 and all other decisions of the Tridentine Council." 
 
 His opponent answers these objections by referring to 
 the doctrine of " developments of gospel truth." Besides, 
 " The Anglican system itself is not found complete in 
 those early centuries; so that the [Anglican] principle 
 [of Antiquity] is self-destructive." " When a man takes 
 up this Via Media, he is a mere doctrinaire ; " he is like 
 those, '* who, in some matter of business, start up to suggest 
 their own little crotchet, and are ever measuring mountains 
 with a pocket ruler, or improving the planetary courses." 
 " The Via Media has slept in libraries ; it is a substitute of 
 infancy for manhood." 
 
 It is plain, then, that at the end of 1835 or beginning 
 of 1836, I had the whole state of the question before me, 
 on which, to my mind, the decision between the Churches 
 depended. It is observable that the question of the posi- 
 tion of the Pope, whether as the centre of unity, or as the 
 source of jurisdiction, did not come into m.j thoughts at 
 all ; nor did it, I think I may say, to the end. I doubt 
 whether I ever distinctly held any of his powers to be de 
 jure dii'ino, while I was in the Anglican Church ;— not that 
 I saw any difficulty in the doctrine ; not that in connexion 
 
112 HISTORY OF MY RELIGTOUS OPINIONS 
 
 witli the history of St. Leo, of whicli I shall speak by and 
 by, the idea of his infallibility did not cross my mind, for 
 it did, — but after all, in my view the controversy did not 
 turn upon it ; it turned upon the Faith and the Church. 
 This was my. issue of the controversy from the beginning 
 to the end. There was a contrariety of claims between 
 the Roman and Anglican religions, and the history of my 
 conversion is simply the process of working it out to a 
 solution. In 1838 I illustrated it by the contrast presented 
 to us between the Madonna and Child, and a Calvary. 
 The peculiarity of the Anglican theology was this, — that 
 it " supposed the Truth to be entirely objective and de- 
 tached, not " (as in the theology of Rome) " Ij^ing hid 
 in the bosom of the Church as if one with her, clinging 
 to and (as it were) lost in her embrace, but as being 
 sole and unapproachable, as on the Cross or at the 
 Resurrection, with the Church close by, but in the back- 
 ground." 
 
 As I viewed the controversy in 1836 and 1838, so I 
 viewed it in 1840 and 1841. In the British Critic of 
 January 1840, after gradually investigating how the 
 matter lies between the Churches by means of a dialogue, 
 I end thus : "It would seem, that, in the above discussion, 
 each disputant has a strong point : our strong point is the 
 argument from Primitiveness, that of Romanists from 
 Universality. It is a fact, however it is to be accounted 
 for, that Rome has added to the Creed ; and it is a fact, 
 however we justify ourselves, that we are estranged from 
 the great body of Christians over the world. And each of 
 these two facts is at first sight a grave difficulty in the 
 respective systems to which they belong.'* Again, "While 
 Rome, though not deferring to the Fathers, recognizes 
 them, and England, not deferring to the large body of the 
 Church, recognizes it, both Rome and England have a 
 point to clear up.'* 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 113 
 
 And still more strongly, in July, 1841 : 
 
 " If the Note of schism, on the one hand, lies against 
 England, an antagonist disgrace lies upon E-ome, the Note 
 of idolatry. Let us not be mistaken here ; we are neither 
 accusing E-ome of idolatry nor ourselves of schism ; we 
 think neither charge tenable ; but still the Roman Church 
 practises what is so like idolatry, and the English Church 
 makes much of what is so very like schism, that without 
 deciding what is the duty of a Roman Catholic towards 
 the Church of England in her present state, we do seriously 
 think that members of the English Church have a provi- 
 dential direction given them, how to comport themselves 
 towards the Churcli of Rome, while she is what she is." 
 
 One remark more about Antiquity and the Via Media. 
 As time went on, without doubting the strength of the 
 Anglican argument from Antiquity, I felt also that it was 
 not merely our special plea, but our only one. Also I felt 
 that the Via Media, which was to represent it, was to be a 
 sort of remodelled and adapted Antiquity. This I advanced 
 both in Home Thoughts Abroad and in the Article of the 
 British Critic which I have analyzed above. But this cir- 
 cumstance, that after all we must use private judgment 
 upon Antiquity, created a sort of distrust of my theory 
 altogether, which in the conclusion of my Yolume on the 
 Prophetical Office (1836-7) I express thus : " Now that 
 our discussions draw to a close, the thought, with which 
 we entered on the subject, is apt to recur, when the 
 excitement of the inquiry has subsided, and weariness has 
 succeeded, that what has been said is but a dream, the 
 wanton exercise, rather than the practical conclusions of 
 the intellect." And I conclude the paragraph by antici- 
 pating a line of thought into which I was, in the event, 
 almost obliged to take refuge: ''After all," I saj^, "the 
 Church is ever invisible in its day, and faith only appre- 
 hends it." What was this, but to give up the Notes of 
 
114 HTSTOTIY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 a visible Churcli altogether, whether the Catholic ITote or 
 the Apostolic ? 
 
 The Long Vacation of 1839 began early. There had 
 been a great many visitors to Oxford from Easter to 
 Commemoration ; and Dr. Pusey's party had attracted 
 attention, more, I think, than in any former year. I had 
 put away from me the controversy with Rome for more 
 than two years. In my Parochial Sermons the subject 
 had at no time been introduced : there had been nothing 
 for two years, either in my Tracts or in the British Critic, 
 of a polemical character. I was returning, for the Yaca- 
 tion, to the course of reading which I had many years 
 before chosen as especially my own. I have no reason to 
 suppose that the thoughts of Rome came across my mind 
 at all. About the middle of June I began to study and 
 master the history of the Monophy sites. I was absorbed 
 in the doctrinal question. This was from about June 13th 
 to August 30th. It was during this course of reading that 
 for the first time a doubt came upon me of the tenableness 
 of Anglicanism. I recollect on the 30th of July men- 
 tioning to a friend, whom I had accidentally met, how 
 remarkable the history was ; but by the end of August I 
 was seriously alarmed. 
 
 I have described in a former work, how the history 
 affected me. My stronghold was Antiquity ; now here, 
 in the middle of the fifth century, I found, as it seemed to 
 me, Christendom of the sixteenth and the nineteenth cen- 
 turies reflected. I saw my face in that mirror, and I was 
 a Monophysite. The Church of the Via Media was in the 
 position of the Oriental communion, Rome was, where she 
 now is ; and the Protestants were the Eutychians. Of all 
 passages of history, since history has been, who would 
 have thought of going to the sayings and doings of old 
 Eutyches, that delirus scnex, as (I think) Petavius caUs 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 115 
 
 liim, and to the enormities of the unprincipled Dioscorus, 
 in order to be converted to Rome ! 
 
 Now let it be simply understood that I am not writing 
 controversially, but with the one object of relating things 
 as they happened to me in the course of my conversion. 
 "With this view I will quote a passage from the account, 
 which I gave in 1850, of my reasonings and feelings in 
 1839 : 
 
 "It was difficult to make out how the Eutychians or 
 Monophysites were heretics, unless Protestants and An- 
 glicans were heretics also ; difficult to find arguments 
 against the Tridentine Fathers, which did not tell against 
 the Fathers of Chalcedon ; difficult to condemn the Popes of 
 the sixteenth century, without condemning the Popes of 
 the fifth. The drama of religion, and the combat of truth 
 and error, were ever one and the same. The principles 
 and proceedings of the Church now, were those of the 
 Church then ; the principles and proceedings of heretics 
 then, were those of Protestants now. I found it so, — 
 almost fearfulty ; there was an awful similitude, more 
 awful, because so silent and unimpassioned, between the 
 dead records of the past and the feverish chronicle of the 
 present. The shadow of the fifth century was on the six- 
 teenth. It was like a spirit rising from the troubled waters 
 of the old world, with the shape and lineaments of the new. 
 The Church then, as now, might be called peremptory and 
 stern, resolute, overbearing, and relentless ; and heretics 
 were shifting, changeable, reserved, and deceitful, ever 
 courting civil power, and never agreeing together, except 
 by its aid ; and the civil power was ever aiming at com- 
 prehensions, trying to put the invisible out of view, and 
 substituting expediency for faith. What was the use of 
 continuing the controversy, or defending my position, if, 
 after all, I was forging arguments for Arius or Eutyches, 
 and turnino^ devil's advocate against the much-enduring 
 
116 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 Athanasius and the majestic Leo ? Be my soul with the 
 Saints ! and shall I lift up my hand against them ? 
 Sooner may my right hand forget her cunning, and wither 
 outright, as his who once stretched it out against a prophet 
 of God ! anathema to a whole tribe of Cranmers, Ridleys, 
 Latimers, and Jewels ! perish the names of Bramhall, 
 Ussher, Taylor, Stillingfleet, and Barrow from the face of 
 the earth, ere I should do ought but fall at their feet in love 
 and in worship, whose image was continual^ before my 
 eyes, and whose musical words were ever in my ears and on 
 my tongue!'* 
 
 Hardly had I brought my course of reading to a close, 
 when the Dublin Review of that same August was put into 
 my hands, by friends who were more favourable to the cause 
 of Rome than I was myself. There was an article in it on 
 the "Anglican Claim " by Dr. Wiseman. This was about 
 the middle of September. It was on the Donatists, with an 
 application to Anglicanism. I read it, and did not see 
 much in it. The Donatist controversy was known to me 
 for some years, as has appeared already. The case was not 
 parallel to that of the Anglican Church. St. Augustine in 
 Africa wrote against the Donatists in Africa. They were 
 a furious party who made a schism within the African 
 Church, and not beyond its limits. It was a case of Altar 
 against Altar, of two occupants of the same See, as that 
 between the Non-jurors in England and the Established 
 Church ; not the case of one Church against another, as of 
 Rome against the Oriental Monophysites. But my friend, 
 an anxiously religious man, now, as then, very dear to me, 
 a Protestant still, pointed out the palmary words of St. 
 Augustine, which were contained in one of the extracts 
 made in the Review, and which had escaped my obser- 
 vation. "Securus judicat orbis terrarum." He repeated 
 these words again and again, and, when he was gone, 
 they kept ringing in my ears. ''Securus judicat or bis 
 
FROM 183Q TO 1841. 117 
 
 terrarum ;'* they were words whicTi went beyond the 
 occasion of the Donatists : they applied to that of the 
 Monophysites. They gave a cogency to the Article, which 
 had escaped me at first. They decided ecclesiastical questions 
 on a simpler rule than that of Antiquity ; nay, St. Augus- 
 tine was one of the prime oracles of Antiquity ; here then 
 Antiquity was deciding against itself. What a light waa 
 hereby thrown upon every controversy in the Church ! not 
 that, for the moment, the multitude may not falter in their 
 judgment, — not that, in the Arian hurricane, Sees more 
 than can be numbered did not bend before its fury, and fall 
 off from St. Athanasius,— not that the crowd of Oriental 
 Bishops did not need to be sustained during the contest by 
 the voice and the eye of St. Leo ; but that the deliberate 
 judgment, in which the whole Church at length rests and 
 acquiesces, is an infallible prescription and a final sentence 
 against such portions of it as protest and secede. "Who can 
 account for the impressions which are made on him ? For 
 a mere sentence, the words of St. Augustine, struck me 
 with a power which I never had felt from any words 
 before. To take a familiar instance, they were like the 
 " Turn again Whittington '' of the chime ; or, to take a 
 more serious one, they were like the '^ Telle, lege, — Telle, 
 lege," of the child, which converted St. Augustine himself. 
 *' Securus judicat orbis terrarum !" By those great words 
 of the ancient Father, interpreting and summing up the 
 long and varied course of ecclesiastical history, the theory 
 of the Via Media was absolutely pulverized. 
 
 I became excited at the view thus opened upon me. I 
 was just starting on a round of visits ; and I mentioned my 
 state of mind to two most intimate friends : I think to no 
 others. After a while, I got calm, and at length the vivid 
 impression upon my imagination faded away. What I 
 thought about it on reflection, I will attempt to describe 
 presently. I had to determine its logical value, and its 
 
118 HISTOTIY OP MY RELIGIOUS OPTXIONS 
 
 bearing upon my duty. Meanwhile, so far as this was 
 certain, — I had seen the shadow of a hand upon the wall. 
 It was clear that I had a good deal to learn on the question 
 of the Churches, and that perhaps some new light was 
 coming upon me. He who has seen a ghost, cannot be as 
 if he had never seen it. The heavens had opened and closed 
 again. The thought for the moment had been, "The 
 Church of E-ome will be found right after all ;" and then 
 it had vanished. My old convictions remained as before. 
 
 At this time, I wrote my Sermon on Divine Calls, 
 which I published in my volume of Plain Sermons. It 
 ends thus : ^ 
 
 " that we could take that simple view of things, as to 
 feel that the one thing which lies before us is to please 
 God ! What gain is it to please the world, to please the 
 great, nay even to please those whom we love, compared with 
 this ? What gain is it to be applauded, admired, courted, 
 followed, — compared with this one aim, of not being dis- 
 obedient to a heavenly vision ?' What can this world offer 
 comparable with that insight into spiritual things, that 
 keen faith, that heavenly peace, that high sanctity, that 
 everlasting righteousness, that hope of glory, which they 
 have, T^ho in sincerity love and follow our Lord Jesus 
 Christ ? Let us beg and pray Him day by day to reveal 
 Himself to our souls more fully, to quicken our senses, 
 to give us sight and hearing, taste and touch of the 
 world to come ; so to work within us, that we may sin- 
 cerely say, ' Thou shalt guide me with Thy counsel, and 
 after that receive me with glory. Whom have I in 
 heaven but Thee ? and there is none upon earth that I 
 desire in comparison of Thee. My flesh and my heart 
 faileth, but God is the strength of my heart, and my 
 portion for ever.' " 
 
 Now to trace the succession of thoughts, and the con- 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 119 
 
 elusions, and the consequent innovations on my previous 
 belief, and the general conduct, to which I was led, upon 
 this sudden visitation. And first, I will sa}', whatever 
 comes of saying it, for I leave inferences to others, that for 
 years I must have had something of an habitual notion, 
 though it was latent, and had never led me to distrust my 
 own convictions, that my mind had not found its ultimate 
 rest, and that in some sense or other I was on journey. 
 During the same passage across the Mediterranean in which 
 I wrote " Lead kindly light," I also wrote the verses, which 
 are found in the Lyra under the head of " Providences,'* 
 beginning, ""When I look back." This was in 1833; and, 
 since I have begun this narrative, I have found a memo- 
 randum under the date of September 7, 1829, in which I 
 speak of myself, as *' now in my rooms in Oriel College, 
 slowl}^ advancing &c. and led on by God's hand blindly, 
 not knowing whither He is taking me." But, whatever 
 this presentiment be worth, it was no protection against the 
 dismay and disgust, w^hich I felt, in consequence of the 
 dreadful misgiving, of which I have been relating the 
 history. The one question was, what was I to do? I had 
 to make up my mind for mj^self, and others could not help 
 me. I determined to be guided, not by my imagination, 
 but by my reason. And this I said over and over again in 
 the years which followed, both in conversation and in 
 private letters. Had it not been for this severe resolve, I 
 should have been a Catholic sooner than I was. Moreover, 
 I felt on consideration a positive doubt, on the other hand, 
 whether the suggestion did not come from below. Then I 
 said to myself, Time alone can solve that question. It was 
 my business to go on as usual, to obey those convictions to 
 which I had so long surrendered myself, which still had 
 possession of me, and on which my new thoughts had no 
 direct bearing. That new conception of things should only 
 so far influence me, as it had a logical claim to do so. If 
 
120 HISTOr^Y OF MY RELIGIOUS OPIXIOXS 
 
 it came from above, it would come again ; — so I trusted, 
 — and with more definite outlines and greater cogency and 
 consistency of proof. I thought of Samuel, before " he 
 knew the word of the Lord ;" and therefore I went, and lay 
 down to sleep again. This was my broad view of the 
 matter, and vnj 2^rimd facie conclusion. 
 
 However, my new historical fact had already to a certain 
 point a logical force. Down had come the Via Media as a 
 definite theory or scheme, under the blows of St. Leo. My 
 " Prophetical Office " had come to pieces ; not indeed as 
 an argument against " Roman errors,' ' nor as against 
 Protestantism, but as in behalf of England. I had no 
 longer a distinctive plea for Anglicanism, unless I would 
 be a Monophysite. I had, most painfully, to fall back upon 
 my three original points of belief, which I have spoken so 
 much of in a former pass^age, — the principle of dogma, the 
 sacramental system, and anti-Romanism. Of these three, 
 the first two were better secured in Rome than in the 
 Anglican Church. The Apostolical Succession, the two 
 prominent sacraments, and the primitive Creeds, belonged, 
 indeed, to the latter ; but there had been and was far less 
 strictness on matters of dogma and ritual in the Anglican 
 system than in the Roman : in consequence, my main 
 argument for the Anglican claims lay in the positive and 
 special charges, which I could bring against Rome. I had 
 no positive Anglican theory. I was very nearly a pure 
 Protestant. Lutherans had a sort of theology, so had 
 Calvinists ; I had none. 
 
 However, this pure Protestantism, to which I was 
 gradually left, was really a practical principle. It was a 
 strong, though it was only a negative ground, and it still 
 had great hold on me. As a boy of fifteen, I had so fully 
 imbibed it, that I had actually erased in my Gracilis ad 
 Parnassum, such titles, under the word ''Papa," as '' Christi 
 Yicarius," ''sacer interpres,"' and ''sceptra gerens," and 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 121 
 
 substituted epithets so vile that I cannot bring myself to 
 write them down here. The effect of this earl}^ persuasion 
 remained as, what I have already called it, a " stain upon 
 my imagination." As regards my reason, I began in 1833 
 to form theories on the subject, which tended to obliterate 
 it; yet by 1838 I had got no further than to consider 
 Antichrist, as not the Church of Rome, but the spirit of the 
 old pagan city, the fourth monster of Daniel, which was 
 still alive, and which had corrupted the Church which was 
 planted there. Soon after this indeed, and before my 
 attention was directed to the Monophysite controversy, I 
 underwent a great change of opinion. I saw that, from the 
 nature of the case, the true Yicar of Christ must ever to 
 the world seem like Antichrist, and be stigmatized as such, 
 because a resemblance must ever exist between an original 
 and a forgery ; and thus the fact of such a calumny was 
 almost one of the notes of the Church. But we cannot 
 unmake ourselves or change our habits in a moment. 
 Though my reason was convinced, I did not throw off, for 
 some time after, — I coidd not have thrown off, — the un- 
 reasoning prejudice and suspicion, which I cherished 
 about her at least by fits and starts, in spite of this con- 
 viction of my reason. I cannot prove this, but I believe 
 it to have been the case from what I recollect of myself. 
 Nor was there any thing in the history of St. Leo and 
 the Monophysites to undo the firm belief I had in the 
 existence of what I called the practical abuses and excesses 
 of Rome. 
 
 To her inconsistencies then, to her ambition and in- 
 trigue, to her sophistries (as I considered them to be) I 
 now had recourse in my opposition to her, both public and 
 personal. I did so by way of a relief. I had a great and 
 growing dislike, after the summer of 1839, to speak against 
 the Ptoman Church herself or her formal doctrines. I was 
 very averse to speaking against doctrines, which might possi- 
 
122 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPIXIO^S'S 
 
 bly turn out to be true, thougli at tlie time I Lad no reason 
 for thinking they were ; or against the Church, which had 
 preserved them. I began to have misgivings, that, strong 
 as my own feelings had been against her, yet in some 
 thinsrs which I had said, I had taken the statements of 
 Anglican divines for granted without weighing them for 
 myself. I said to a friend in 1840, in a letter, which I 
 shall use presently, " I am troubled by doubts whether as 
 it is, I have not, in what I have published, spoken too 
 strongly against Rome, though I think I did it in a kind 
 of faith, being determined to put myself into the English 
 system, and say all that our divines said, whether I had 
 fully weighed it or not." I was sore about the great 
 Anglican divines, as if they had taken me in, and made 
 me say strong things, which facts did not justify. Yet I 
 did still hold in substance all that I had said against the 
 Church of Rome in my Prophetical Office, I felt the force 
 of the usual Protestant objections against her ; I believed 
 that we had the Apostolical succession in the Anglican 
 Church, and the grace of the sacraments ; I was not sure 
 that the difficulty of its isolation might not be overcome, 
 though I was far from sure that it could. I did not see 
 any clear proof that it had committed itself to any heresy, 
 Or had taken part against the truth ; and I was not sure 
 that it would not revive into full Apostolic purity and 
 strength, and grow into union with Rome herself (Rome 
 explaining her doctrines and guarding against their abuse), 
 that is, if we were but patient and hopeful. I began to 
 wish for union between the Anglican Church and Rome, 
 if, and when, it was possible ; and I did what I could to 
 gain weekly prayers for that object. The ground which I 
 felt to be good against her was the moral ground : I felt I 
 could not be wrong in striking at her political and social line 
 of action. The alliance of a dogmatic religion with liberals, 
 high or low, seemed to me a providential direction against 
 
FnoM 1839 TO 1841. 123 
 
 moving towards Eome, and a better "Preservative against 
 Popery/' than the three volumes in folio, in whrch, I 
 think, that prophylactic is to be found. However, 'on 
 occasions which demanded it, I felt it a dut}^ to give out 
 plainly all that I thought, though I did not like to do so. 
 One such instance occurred, when I had to publish a 
 Letter about Tract 90. In that Letter, I said, ''Instead 
 of setting before the soul the Holy Trinity, and heaven 
 and hell, the Church of Ptome does seem to me, as a popu- 
 lar system, to preach the Blessed Virgin and the Saints, 
 and purgatory." On this occasion I recollect expressing 
 to a friend the distress it gave me thus to speak; but, I 
 said, ''How can I help saying it, if I think it? and I do 
 think it ; my Bishop calls on me to say out what I think ; 
 and that is the long and the short of it." But I recoUccted 
 Hurrell Fronde's words to me, almost his dying words, " I 
 must enter another protest against your cursing and 
 swearing. What good can it do ? and I call it uncharita- 
 ble to an excess. How mistaken we may ourselves be, on 
 many points that are only gradually opening on us ! " 
 
 Instead then of speaking of errors in doctrine, I was 
 driven, by my state of mind, to insist upon the political 
 conduct, the controversial bearing, and the social methods 
 and manifestations of Pome. And here I found a matter 
 ready to my hand, which affected me the more sensibly for 
 the reason that it lay at our very doors. I can hardly 
 describe too strongly my feeling upon it. I had an un- 
 speakable aversion to the policy and acts of Mr. O'Connell, 
 because, as I thought, he associated himself with men of 
 all religions and no religion against the Anglican Church, 
 and advanced Catholicism by violence and intrigue. "When 
 then I found him taken up by the English Catholics, and, 
 as I supposed, at Pome, I considered I had a fulfilment 
 before my eyes how the Court of Pome played fast and 
 loose, and justified the serious charges which I had seen 
 
124 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPIJS'lOXS 
 
 put down in books against it. Here we saw what Rome 
 was in action, whatever she might be when quiescent. 
 Her conduct was simply secular and political. 
 
 This feeling led me into the excess of being very rude 
 to that zealous and most charitable man, Mr. Spencer, 
 when he came to Oxford in January, 1840, to get Angli- 
 cans to set about praying for Unity. I myself, at that 
 time, or soon after, drew up such prayers ; their desirable- 
 Qess was one of the first thoughts which came upon me 
 after my shock; but I was too much annoyed with the 
 political action of the Catholic body in these islands to 
 wish to have any thing to do with them personally. So 
 glad in my heart was I to see him, when he came to my 
 rooms with Mr. Palmer of Magdalen, that I could have 
 laughed for joy ; I think I did laugh ; but I was very 
 rude to him, I would not meet him at dinner, and that, 
 (though I did not say so,) because I considered him ''in 
 loco apostata) " from the Anglican Church, and I hereby 
 beg his pardon for it. I wrote afterwards with a view to 
 apologize, but I dare say he must have thought that I 
 made the matter worse, for these were my words to 
 him : — 
 
 " The news that you are praying for us is most touch- 
 ing, and raises a variety of indescribable emotions. . . . 
 May their prayers return abundantly into their ow^n 
 bosoms. . . . Why then do I not meet you in a manner 
 conformable with these first feelings? For this single 
 reason, if I may say it, that your acts are contrary to 
 your words. You invite us to a union of hearts, at the 
 same time that you are doing all you can, not to restore, 
 not to reform, not to re-unite, but to destroy our Church. 
 You go further than your principles require. You are 
 leagued with our enemies. 'The voice is Jacob's voice, 
 but the hands are the hands of Esau.' This is what 
 especially distresses us; this is what we cannot under- 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. ]25 
 
 stand ; h.ow Christians, like yourselves, with the clear view 
 you have that a warfare is ever waging in the world be- 
 tween good and evil, should, in the present state of Eng- 
 land, ally yourselves with the side of evil against the side 
 of good. ... Of parties now in the country, you cannot 
 but allow, that next to yourselves we are nearest to re- 
 vealed truth. We maintain great and holy principles; 
 we profess Catholic doctrines. ... So near are we as a 
 body to yourselves in modes of thinking, as even to have 
 been taunted with the nicknames which belong to you ; 
 and, on the other hand, if there are professed infidels, 
 scofiers, sceptics, unprincipled men, rebels, they are found 
 among our opponents. And yet you take part with them 
 against us. . . . You consent to act hand in hand [with 
 these and others] for our overthrow. Alas ! all this it is 
 that impresses us irresistibly with the notion that you are 
 a political, not a religious party ; that in order to gain an 
 end on which you set your heefrts, — an open stage for 
 yourselves in England, — you ally yourselves with those 
 who hold nothing against those who hold something. 
 This is what distresses my own mind so greatly, to speak 
 of myself, that, with limitations which need not now be 
 mentioned, I cannot meet familiarly any leading persons 
 of the Roman Communion, and least of all when they 
 come on a religious errand. Break off, I would say, with 
 Mr. O'Connell in Ireland and the liberal party in Eng- 
 land, or come not to us with overtures for mutual prayer 
 and religious sympathy." 
 
 And here came in another feeling, of a personal nature, 
 which had little to do with the argument against Rome, 
 except that, in my prejudice, I viewed what happened to 
 myself in the light of my own ideas of the traditionary 
 conduct of her advocates and instruments. I was very 
 stern in the case of any interference in our Oxford matters 
 on the part of charitable Catholics, and of any attempt 
 
126 HISTORY OF MY HELTGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 to do me good personally. There was nothing, indeed, at 
 the time more likely to throw me back. " Why do you 
 meddle ? why cannot you let me alone ? You can do me 
 no good ; you know nothing on earth about me ; you may 
 actually do me harm ; I am in better hands than yours. 
 I know my own sincerity of purpose; and I am deter- 
 mined upon taking my time." Since I have been a 
 Catholic, people have sometimes accused me of backward- 
 ness in making converts ; and Protestants have argued 
 from it that I have no great eagerness to do so. It would 
 be against my nature to act otherwise than I do; but 
 besides, it would be to forget the lessons which I gained 
 in the experience of my own history in the past. 
 
 This is the account which I have to give of some savage 
 and ungrateful words in the British Critic of 1840 against 
 the controversialists of Rome : *' By their fruits ye shall 
 know them. . . . We see it attempting to gain converts 
 among us by unreal representations of its doctrines, plausi- 
 ble statements, bold assertions, appeals to the weaknesses 
 of human nature, to our fancies, our eccentricities, our fears, 
 our frivolities, our false philosophies. We see its agents, 
 smiling and nodding and ducking to attract attention, as 
 gipsies make up to truant boys, holding out tales for the 
 nursery, and pretty pictures, and gilt gingerbread, and 
 phj^sic concealed in jam, and sugar-plums for good chil- 
 dren. Who can but feel shame when the religion of 
 Ximenes, Borromeo, and Pascal, is so overlaid ? AVho 
 can but feel sorrow, when its devout and earnest defenders 
 so mistake its genius and its capabilities ? We English- 
 men like manliness, openness, consistency, truth. Rome 
 will never gain on us, till she learns these virtues, and 
 uses them ; and then she ma?/ gain us, but it will be by 
 ceasing to be what we now mean by Pome, by having a 
 right, not to ' have dominion over our faith,' but to gain 
 and possess our affections in the bonds of the gospel. TiU 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 127 
 
 she ceases to be what she practically is, a union is impossi- 
 ble between her and England ; but, if she does reform, 
 (and who can presume to say that so large a part of Chris- 
 tendom never can ?) then it will be our Church's duty at 
 once to join in communion with the continental Churches, 
 whatever politicians at home may say to it, and whatever 
 steps the civil power may take in consequence. And 
 though we may not live to see that day, at least we are 
 bound to pray for it; we are bound to pray for our 
 brethren that they and we may be led together into the 
 pure light of the gospel, and be one as we once were one. 
 It was most touching news to be told, as we were lately, 
 that Christians on the Continent were praying together 
 for the spiritual well-being of England. May they gain 
 light, while they aim at unity, and grow in faith while 
 they manifest their love ! We too have our duties to 
 them ; not of reviling, not of slandering, not of hating, 
 though political interests require it ; but the duty of lov- 
 ing brethren still more abundantly in spirit, whose faces, 
 for our sins and their sins, we are not allowed to see in the 
 flesh." 
 
 'No one ought to indulge in insinuations ; it certainly 
 diminishes my right to complain of slanders uttered against 
 myself, when, as in this passage, I had already spoken in 
 disparagement of the controversialists of that religious 
 body, to which I myself now belong. 
 
 I have thus put together, as well as I can, what has to 
 be said about my general state of mind from the autumn 
 of 1839 to the summer of 1841 ; and, having done so, I go 
 on to narrate how my new misgivings affected my conduct, 
 and my relations towards the Anglican Church. 
 
 When I got back to Oxford in October, 1839, after the 
 visits which I had been paying, it so happened, there had 
 been, in my absence, occurrences of an awkward character, 
 
128 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 compromising me both with my Bishop and also with the 
 authorities of the University ; and this drew my atten- 
 tion at once to the state of the Movement party there, and 
 made me very anxious for the future. In the spring of 
 the year, as has been seen in the Article analyzed above, 
 I had spoken of the excesses which were to be found 
 among persons commonly included in it : — at that time I 
 thought little of such an evil, but the new views, which 
 had come on me during the Long Vacation, on the one 
 hand made me comprehend it, and on the other took away 
 my power of effectually meeting it. A firm and powerful 
 control was necessary to keep men straight ; I never had 
 a strong wrist, but at the very time, when it was most 
 needed, the reins had broken in my hands. With an 
 anxious presentiment on my mind of the upshot of the 
 whole inquiry, which it was almost impossible for me to 
 conceal from men who saw me day by day, who heard my 
 familiar conversation, who came perhaps for the express 
 purpose of pumping me, and having a categorical yes or no 
 to their questions, — how could I expect to say any thing 
 about my actual, positive, present belief, which would be 
 sustaining or consoling to such persons as were haunted 
 already by doubts of their own ? Nay, how could I, with 
 satisfaction to myself, analyze my own mind, and say what 
 I held and what I did not hold ? or how could I say with 
 what limitations, shades of difference, or degrees of belief, 
 I still held that body of Anglican opinions which I had 
 openly professed and taught ? how could I deny or assert 
 this point or that, without injustice to the new light, in 
 wdiich the whole evidence for those old opinions presented 
 itself to my mind ? 
 
 However, I had to do what I could, and what was best, 
 under the circumstances; I found a general talk on the 
 subject of the Article in the Dublin Review ; and, if it 
 had affected me, it was not wonderful, that it affected 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 129 
 
 others also. As to myself, I felt no kind of certainty that 
 the argument in it was conclusive. Taking it at the 
 worst, granting that the Anglican Church had not the 
 Note of Catholicity ; yet there were many iSTotes of the 
 Church. Some belonged to one age or place, some to 
 another. Bellarmine had reckoned Temporal Prosperity 
 among the Notes of the Church ; but the Eoman Church 
 had not any great popularity, wealth, glory, power, or 
 prospects, in the nineteenth century. It was not at all 
 certain as yet, even that we had not the Note of Catho- 
 llcit}^ ; but, if not this, we had others. My first business 
 then, was to examine this question carefully, and see, 
 whether a great deal could not be said after all for the 
 Anglican Church, in spite of its acknowledged short- com- 
 ings. This I did in an Article " on the Catholicity of the 
 English Church," which appeared in the British Critic of 
 January, 1840. As to my personal distress on the point, 
 I think it had gone by February 21st in that year, for I 
 wrote then to Mr. Bowden about the important Article in 
 the Dublin, thus : " It made a great impression here 
 [Oxford] ; and, I say what of course I would only say to 
 such as yourself, it made me for a while very uncomforta- 
 ble in my own mind. The great speciousness of his argu- 
 ment is one of the things which have made me despond so 
 much," that is, as anticipating its effect upon others. 
 
 But, secondly, the great stumbling-block lay in the 39 
 Articles. It was urged that here was a positive Note 
 fl'^rai^isz^ Anglicanism:— Anglicanism claimed to hold, that 
 the Church of England was nothing else than a continua- 
 tion in this country, (as the Church of Home might be in 
 France or Spain,) of that one Church of which in old times 
 Athanasius and Augustine were members. But, if so, the 
 doctrine must be the same ; the doctrine of the Old Church 
 must live and speak in Anglican formularies, in the 39 
 Articles. Did it ? Yes, it did ; that is what I maintained; 
 
 K 
 
130 HISTORY or MY HELIGTOUS OPINIONS 
 
 it did in substance, in a true sense. Man had done Lis 
 worst to disfigure, to mutilate, tlie old Catholic Truth ; 
 but there it was, in spite of them, in the Articles still. 
 It was there, — but this must be shown. It was a matter of 
 life and death to us to show it. And I believed that it 
 could be shown ; I considered that those grounds of justi- 
 fication, which I gave above, when I was speaking of 
 Tract 90, were sufficient for the purpose; and therefore 
 I set about showing it at once. This was in March, 1840, 
 when I went up to Littlemore. And, as it was a matter 
 of life and death with us, all risks must be run to show it. 
 When the attempt was actually made, I had got reconciled 
 to the prospect of it, and had no apprehensions as to the 
 experiment; but in 1840, while my purpose was honest, 
 and my grounds of reason satisfactory, I did nevertheless 
 recognize that I was engaged in an experimentum criicis. 
 I have no doubt that then I acknowledged to myself that 
 it would be a trial of the Anglican Church, which it had 
 never undergone before, — not that the Catholic sense of 
 the Articles had not been held or at least suffered by their 
 framers and promulgators, not that it was not implied in 
 the teaching of Andrewes or Beveridge, but that it had 
 never been publicly recognized, while the interpretation of 
 the day was Protestant and exclusive. I observe also, 
 that, though my Tract was an experiment, it was, as I 
 said at the time, ^'no feeler^' ; the event showed this; for, 
 when my principle was not granted, I did not draw back, 
 but gave up. I would not hold office in a Church which 
 would not allow my sense of the Articles. My tone was, 
 *^ This is necessary for us, and have it we must and will, 
 and, if it tends to bring men to look less bitterly on the 
 Church of Eome, so much the better." 
 
 This then was the second work to which I set myself; 
 though when I got to Littlemore, other things interfered to 
 prevent my accomplishing it at the moment. I had in 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 131 
 
 mind to remove all such obstacles as lay in the way of 
 holding the Apostolic and Catholic character of the Angli- 
 can teaching ; to assert the right of all who chose, to say 
 in the face of day, "Our Church teaches the Primitive 
 Ancient faith." I did not conceal this : in Tract 90, it is 
 put forward as the first principle of all, "It is a duty 
 which we owe both to the Catholic Church, and to our 
 own, to take our reformed confessions in the most Catholic 
 sense they will admit : we have no duties towards their 
 framers." And still more pointedly in my Letter, expla- 
 natory of the Tract, addressed to Dr. Jelf, I say : " The 
 only peculiarity of the view I advocate, if I must so call 
 it, is this— that whereas it is usual at this day to make the 
 particular belief of their tcriters their true interpretation, I 
 would make the belief of tJie Catholic Church such. That is, 
 as it is often said that infants are regenerated in Baptism, 
 not on the faith of their parents, but of the Church, so in 
 like manner I would say that the Articles are received, 
 not in the sense of their framers, but (as far as the word- 
 ing will admit or any ambiguity requires it) in the one 
 Catholic sense." 
 
 A third measure which I distinctly contemplated, was 
 the resignation of St. Mary's, whatever became of the 
 question of the 39 i^rticles ; and as a first step I meditated 
 a retirement to Littlemore. Littlemore was an integral 
 part of St. Mary's Parish, and between two and three miles 
 distant from Oxford. I had built a Church there several 
 years before ; and I went there to pass the Lent of 1840, 
 and gave myself up to teaching in the Parish School, and 
 practising the choir. At the same time, I had in view a 
 monastic house there. I bought ten acres of ground and 
 began planting ; but this great design was never carried 
 out. I mention it, because it shows how little I had really 
 the idea at that time of ever leavino^ the Anorlican Church. 
 That I contemplated as early as 1839 the further step of 
 
132 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 giving up St. Mary's, appears from a letter which I wrote 
 in October, 1840, to Mr. Keble, the friend whom it was 
 most natural for me to consult on such a point. It ran 
 as follows : — 
 
 " For a year past a feeling has been growing on me that 
 I ought to give up St. Marj^'s, but I am no lit judge in the 
 matter. I cannot ascertain accurately my own impressions 
 and convictions, which are the basis of the difficulty, and 
 though you cannot of course do this for me, yet you may 
 help me generally, and perhaps supersede the necessity of 
 my going by them at all. 
 
 ''First, it is certain that I do not know my Oxford 
 parishioners ; I am not conscious of influencing them, and 
 certainly I have no insight into their spiritual state. I 
 have no personal, no pastoral acquaintance with them. 
 To very few have I any opportunity of saying a religious 
 word. Whatever influence I exert on them is precisely 
 that which I may be exerting on persons out of mj^ parish. 
 In my excuse I am accustomed to say to myself that I am 
 not adapted to get on with them, while others are. On 
 the other hand, I am conscious that by means of my posi- 
 tion at St. Mary's, I do exert a considerable influence on 
 the University, whether on Undergraduates or Graduates. 
 It seems, then, on the whole that I am using St. Mary's, to 
 the neglect of its direct duties, for objects not belonging 
 to it ; I am converting a parochial charge into a sort of 
 University office. 
 
 " I think I may say truly that I have begun scarcely 
 any plan but for the sake of my parish, but every one has 
 turned, independently of me, into the direction of the Uni- 
 versity. I began Saints'-days Services, daily Services, and 
 Lectures in Adam de Brome's Chapel, for my parishioners ; 
 but they have not come to them. In consequence I dropped 
 the last mentioned, having, while it lasted, been naturally 
 led to direct it to the instruction of those who did come, 
 
Fr.oM 1839 TO 1841. 133 
 
 instead of those who did not. The Weekly Communion, 
 I believe, I did begin for the sake of the University. 
 
 " Added to this the authorities of the University, the 
 appointed guardians of those who form great part of the 
 attendants on my Sermons, have shown a dislike of my 
 preaching. One dissuades men from coming; — the late 
 Vice- Chancellor threatens to take his own children away 
 from the Church ; and the present, having an opportunity 
 last spring of preaching in my parish pulpit, gets up and 
 preaches against doctrine with which I am in good measure 
 identified. No plainer proof can be given of the feeling in 
 these quarters, than the absurd myth, now a second time 
 put forward, ' that Vice-Chancellors cannot be got to take 
 the office on account of Puseyism.' 
 
 " But further than this, I cannot disguise from myself 
 that my preaching is not calculated to defend that system 
 of religion which has been received for 300 years, and of 
 which the Heads of Houses are the legitimate maintainers 
 in this place. They exclude me, as far as may be, from 
 the University Pulpit ; and, though I never have preached 
 strong doctrine in it, they do so rightly, so far as this, 
 that they understand that my sermons are calculated to 
 imdermine things established. I cannot disguise from 
 myself that they are. No one will deny that most of my 
 sermons are on moral subjects, not doctrinal ; still I am 
 leading my hearers to the Primitive Church, if you will, 
 but not to the Church of England. Now, ought one to be 
 disgusting the minds of young men with the received reli- 
 gion, in the exercise of a sacred office, yet without a commis- 
 sion, and against the wish of their guides and governors ? 
 
 " But this is not all. I fear I must allow that, whether 
 I will or no, I am disposing them towards Rome. First, 
 because Rome is the only representative of the Primitive 
 Church besides ourselves ; in proportion then as they are 
 loosened from the one, they will go to the other. Next, 
 because many doctrines which I have held have far greater, 
 
134 HISTORY OF MY IIELIGIOUS OPINIOINS 
 
 or their only scope, in the Roman system. And, moreover, 
 if, as is not unlikely, we have in process of time heretical 
 Bishops or teachers among us, an evil which ipso facto 
 infects the whole community to which they belong, and if, 
 again (what there are at this moment sj^mptoms of), there 
 be a movement in the English Roman Catholics to break 
 the alliance of O'Connell and of Exeter Hall, strong temp- 
 tations will be placed in the way of individuals, already 
 imbued with a tone of thought congenial to Rome, to join 
 her Communion. 
 
 " People tell me, on the other hand, that I am, whether 
 by sermons or otherwise, exerting at St. Mary's a beneficial 
 influence on our prospective clergy ; but what if I take to 
 myself the credit of seeing further than they, and of 
 having in the course of the last year discovered that what 
 they approve so much is very likely to end in Romanism ? 
 
 " The arguments which I have published against Roman- 
 ism seem to myself as cogent as ever, but men go by their 
 sympathies, not by argument ; and if I feel the force of 
 this influence myself, who bow to the arguments, why may 
 not others still more, who never have in the same degree 
 admitted the arguments ? 
 
 ''JN'or can I counteract the danger by preaching or 
 writing against Rome. I seem to myself almost to have 
 shot my last arrow in the Article on English Catholicity. 
 It must be added, that the very circumstance that I have 
 committed myself against Rome has the efi'ect of setting 
 to sleep people suspicious about me, which is painful now 
 that I begin to have suspicions about myself. I mentioned 
 my general difficulty to Rogers a year since, than whom I 
 know no one of a more fine and accurate conscience, and 
 it was his spontaneous idea that I should give up St. 
 Mary's, if my feelings continued. I mentioned it again 
 to him lately, and he did not reverse his opinion, only 
 expressed great reluctance to believe it must be so." 
 
 Mr. Keble's j udgment was in favour of my retaining my 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 135 
 
 living; at least for the present; what weighed with me 
 most was his saying, "You must consider, whether your 
 retiring either from the Pastoral Care only, or from writing 
 and printing and editing in the cause, would not be a sort 
 of scandalous thing, unless it were done very warily. It 
 would be said, ' You see he can go on no longer with the 
 Church of England, except in mere Lay Communion ;' or 
 people might say you repented of the cause altogether. 
 Till you see [your way to mitigate, if not remove this 
 evil] I certainly should advise you to stay.'' I answered 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Since you think I may go on, it seems to follow that, 
 under the ciicumstances, I ought to do so. There are 
 plenty of reasons for it, directly it is allowed to be lawful. 
 The following considerations have much reconciled my 
 feelings to your conclusion. 
 
 "1. I do not think that we have yet made fair trial how 
 much the English Church will bear. I know it is a 
 hazardous experiment, — like proving cannon. Yet we 
 must not take it for granted that the metal will burst in 
 the operation. It has borne at various times, not to say 
 at this time, a great infusion of Catholic truth without 
 damage. As to the result, viz. whether this process will 
 not approximate tlie whole English Church, as a body, to 
 Home, that is nothing to us. For what we know, it may 
 be the providential means of uniting the whole Church in 
 one, without fresh schismatizing or use of private judg- 
 ment." 
 
 Here I observe, that, what was contemplated was the 
 bursting of the Catholicity of the Anglican Church, that is, 
 my subjective idea of that Church. Its bursting would not 
 hurt her with the world, but would be a discovery that 
 she was purely and essentially Protestant, and would be 
 reaUy the "hoisting of the engineer with his own petar." 
 And this was the result. I continue : — 
 
136 HISTOE.Y OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 " 2. Say, that I move sympathies for Home : in the 
 same sense does Hooker, Taylor, Bull, &c. Their argii- 
 ments may be against Rome, but the sympathies they raise 
 must be towards E-ome, so far as Rome maintains truths 
 which our Church does not teach or enforce. Thus it is a 
 question of degree between our divines and me. I may, if 
 so be, go farther ; I may raise sympathies mo7^e ; but I am 
 but urging minds in the same direction as they do. I am 
 doing just the very thing which all our doctors have ever 
 been doing. In short, would not Hooker, if Yicar of St. 
 Mary's, be in my difficulty ?" — Here it may be objected, 
 that Hooker could preach against Rome and I could not ; 
 but I doubt whether he could have preached effectively 
 against Transubstantiation better than I, though neither 
 he nor I held that doctrine. 
 
 " 3. Rationalism is the great evil of the daj^ May not 
 I consider my post at St. Mary's as a place of protest 
 against it? I am more certain that the Protestant [spirit], 
 which I oppose, leads to infidelity, than that which I re- 
 commend, leads to Rome. Who knows what the state of 
 the University may be, as regards Divinity Professors in 
 a few years hence ? Any how, a great battle may be 
 coming on, of which Milman's book is a sort of earnest. 
 The whole of our day may be a battle with this spirit. 
 May we not leave to another age its own evil, — to settle 
 the question of Romanism ?" 
 
 I may add that from this time I had a curate at St. 
 Mary's, who gradually took more and more of my work. 
 
 Also, this same year, 1840, I made arrangements for 
 giving up the British Critic, in the following July, which 
 were carried into effect at that date. 
 
 Such was about my state of mind, on the publication of 
 Tract 90 in February 1841. I was indeed in prudence taking 
 steps towards eventually withdrawing from St. Mary's, and 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 137 
 
 I was not confident about my permanent adliesion to the 
 Anglican creed ; but I was in no actual perplexity or 
 trouble of mind. ^N^or did the immense commotion conse- 
 quent upon the publication of the Tract unsettle me again ; 
 for I fancied I had weathered the storm, as far as the 
 Bishops were concerned : the Tract had not been con- 
 demned: that was the great point, and I made much of it. 
 To illustrate my feelings during this trial, I will make 
 extracts from my letters addressed severally to Mr. Bowden 
 and another friend, which have come into my possession. 
 
 1. March 15. — "The Heads, I believe, have just done a 
 violent act : they have said that my interpretation of the 
 Articles is an evasion. Do not think that this will pain 
 me. You see, no doctrine is censured, and my shoulders 
 shall manage to bear the charge. If you knew all, or were 
 here, you would see that I have asserted a great principle, 
 and I ouglii to suffer for it :— that the Articles are to be 
 interpreted, not according to the meaning of the writers, 
 but (as far as the wording will admit) according to the 
 sense of the Catholic Church." 
 
 2. March 25. — "I do trust I shall make no false step, 
 and hope my friends will pray for me to this efiect. If, 
 as you say, a destiny hangs over us, a single false step 
 may ruin all. I am very well and comfortable; but we 
 are not yet out of the wood." 
 
 3. April 1. — "The Bishop sent me word on Sunday to 
 write a Letter to him 'insfanterJ So I wrote it on Monday: 
 on Tuesday it passed through the press : on Wednesday it 
 was out : and to-day [Thursday] it is in London. 
 
 " I trust that things are smoothing now ; and that we 
 have made a great step is certain. It is not right to boast, 
 till I am clear out of the wood, i. e. till I know how the 
 Letter is received in London. You know, I suppose, that 
 I am to stop the Tracts ; but you will see in the Letter, 
 though I speak quite what I feel, yet I have managed to 
 
138 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 take out on my side my snubbing's wortb. And this 
 makes me anxious how it will be received in London. 
 
 '' I have not had a misgiving for five minutes from the 
 first : but I do not like to boast, lest some harm come." 
 
 4. April 4. — "Your letter of this morning was an ex- 
 ceedingly great gratification to me ; and it is confirmed, I 
 am thankful to say, by the opinion of others. The Bishop 
 sent me a message that my Letter had his unqualified 
 approbation ; and since that, he has sent me a note to the 
 same effect, only going more into detail. It is most 
 pleasant too to my feelings, to have such a testimony to 
 the substantial truth and importance of No. 90, as I have 
 had from so many of my friends, from those who, from 
 their cautious turn of mind, I was least sanguine about. 
 I have not had one misgiving myself about it throughout ; 
 and I do trust that what has happened will be overruled 
 to subserve the great cause we all have at heart." 
 
 5. May 9. — "The Bishops are very desirous of hushing 
 the matter up : and I certainly have done my utmost to 
 co-operate with them, on the understanding that the Tract 
 is not to be withdrawn or condemned." 
 
 Upon this occasion several Catholics wrote to me ; I 
 answered one of my correspondents in the same tone : — 
 
 "April 8. — You have no cause to be surprised at the 
 discontinuance of the Tracts. We feel no misgivings 
 about it whatever, as if the cause of what we hold to be 
 Catholic truth would suff'er thereby. My letter to my 
 Bishop has, I trust, had the effect of bringing the prepon- 
 derating aidliority of the Church on our side. No stopping 
 of the Tracts can, humanly speaking, stop the spread of 
 the opinions which they have inculcated. 
 
 " The Tracts are not suppressed. No doctrine or prin- 
 ciple has been conceded by us, or condemned by authoritj\ 
 The Bishop has but said that a certain Tract is 'objection- 
 able/ no reason being stated. I have no intention what- 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 139 
 
 ever of yielding any one point whicli I hold on conviction; 
 and that the authorities of the Church know full well." 
 
 In the summer of 1841, I found myself at Littlemore 
 without any harass or anxiety on my mind. I had deter- 
 mined to put aside all controversy, and I set myself down, 
 to my translation of St. Athanasius ; but, between Jul}' 
 and November, I received three blows which broke me. 
 
 1. I had got but a little way in my work, when my 
 trouble returned on me. The ghost had come a second time. 
 In the Arian History I found the very same phenomenon, 
 in a far bolder shaj)e, which I had found in the Monophy- 
 site. I had not observed it in 1832. Wonderful that 
 this should come upon me ! I had not sought it out ; I 
 was reading and writing in my own line of study, far 
 from the controversies of the day, on what is called a 
 " metaphysical " subject ; but I saw clearly, that in the 
 history of Arianism, the pure Arians were the Protestants, 
 the semi- Arians were the Anglicans, and that Rome now 
 was what it was then. The truth lay, not with the Via 
 Media, but with what was called " the extreme party." As 
 I am not writing a work of controversy, I need not enlarge 
 upon the argument ; I have said something on the subject 
 in a Volume, from which I have already quoted. 
 
 2. I was in the misery of this new unsettlement, when 
 a second blow came upon me. The Bishops one after 
 another began to charge against me. It was a formal, 
 determinate movement. This was the real " understand- 
 ing ; " that, on which I had acted on the first appearance 
 of Tract 90, had come to nought. I think the words, 
 which had then been used to me, were, that " perhaps two 
 or three of them might think it necessary to say something 
 in their charges ;" but by this time they had tided over the 
 difficulty of the Tract, and there was no one to enforce the 
 "understanding." They went on in this way, directing 
 
140 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 charges at me, for tliree whole years. I recognized it 
 as a condemnation ; it was the only one that was in their 
 power. At first I intended to protest ; but I gave up the 
 thought in despair. 
 
 On October 17th, I wrote thus to a friend: ^' I suppose 
 it will be necessary in some shape or other to re-assert 
 Tract 90 ; else, it will seem, after these Bishops' Charges, 
 as if it were silenced, which it has not been, nor do I 
 intend it should be. I wish to keep quiet ; but if Bishops 
 speak, I will speak too. If the view were silenced, I could 
 not remain in the Church, nor could many others; and 
 therefore, since it is not silenced, I shall take care to show 
 that it isn't." 
 
 A day or two after, Oct. 22, a stranger wrote to me to 
 say, that the Tracts for the Times had made a young friend 
 of his a Catholic, and to ask, " would I be so good as to 
 convert him back;" I made answer : 
 
 " If conversions to Home take place in consequence of 
 the Tracts for the Times, I do not impute blame to them, 
 but to those who, instead of acknowledging such Anglican 
 principles of theology and ecclesiastical polity as they con- 
 tain, set themselves to oppose them. Whatever be the 
 influence of the Tracts, great or small, they may become 
 just as powerful for Eome, if our Church refuses them, as 
 they would be for our Church if she accepted them. If 
 our rulers speak either against the Tracts, or not at all, if 
 any number of them, not only do not favour, but even do 
 not suffer the principles contained in them, it is plain that 
 our members may easily be persuaded either to give up 
 those principles, or to give up the Church. If this state 
 of things goes on, I mournfully prophesy, not one or two, 
 but many secessions to the Church of Eome." 
 
 Two years afterwards, looking back on what had passed, 
 I said, '* There were no converts to Eome, till after the 
 condemnation of No. 90." 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 141 
 
 3. As if all this were not enoiigli, tliere came the affair 
 of the Jerusalem Bishopric ; and, with a brief mention of 
 it, I shall conclude. 
 
 I think I am right in saying that it had been long a 
 desire with the Prussian Court to introduce Episcopacy 
 into the new Evangelical Religion, which was intended in 
 that country to embrace both the Lutheran and Calvinistic 
 bodies. I almost think I heard of the project, when I was 
 at Rome in 1833, at the Hotel of the Prussian Minister, 
 M. Bunsen, who was most hospitable and kind, as to other 
 English visitors, so also to my friends and myself. The 
 idea of Episcopacy, as the Prussian king understood it, 
 was, I suppose, very different from that taught in the 
 Tractarian School : but still, I suppose also, that the chief 
 authors of that school would have gladly seen such a 
 measure carried out in Prussia, had it been done without 
 compromising those principles which were necessary to the 
 being of a Church. About the time of the publication of 
 Tract 90, M. Bunsen and the then Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury were taking steps for its execution, by appointing 
 and consecrating a Bishop for Jerusalem. Jerusalem, it 
 would seem, was considered a safe place for the experi- 
 ment ; it was too far from Prussia to awaken the suscepti- 
 bilities of any party at home ; if the project failed, it failed 
 without harm to any one ; and, if it succeeded, it gave 
 Protestantism a status in the East, which, in association 
 with the Monophysite or Jacobite and the Nestorian bodies, 
 formed a political instrument for England, parallel to that 
 which Russia had in the Greek Church, and France in the 
 Latin. 
 
 Accordingly, in July 1841, full of the Anglican difficulty 
 on the question of Catholicity, I thus spoke of the Jeru- 
 salem scheme in an Article in the British Critic : " When 
 our thoughts turn to the East, instead of recollecting that 
 there are Christian Churches there, we leave it to the 
 
142 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 Russians to take care of the Greeks, and the French to 
 take care of the Romans, and we content ourselves with 
 erecting a Protestant Church at Jerusalem, or with help- 
 ing the Jews to rebuild their Temple there, or with 
 becoming the august protectors of Nestorians, Monophy- 
 sites, and all the heretics we can hear of, or with forming 
 a league with the Mussulman against Greeks and Romans 
 together." 
 
 I do not pretend, so long after the time, to give a full 
 or exact account of this measure in detail. I will but say 
 that in the Act of Parliament, under date of October 5, 
 1841, (if the copy, from which I quote, contains the 
 measure as it passed the Houses,) provision is made for 
 the consecration of *' British subjects, or the subjects or 
 citizens of any foreign state, to.be Bishops in any foreign 
 country, whether such foreign subjects or citizens be or be 
 not subjects or citizens of the country in which they are to 
 act, and .... without requiring such of them as may be 
 subjects or citizens of any foreign kingdom or state to take 
 the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, and the oath of due 
 obedience to the Archbishop for the time being "... also 
 " that such Bishop or Bishops, so consecrated, may exercise, 
 within such limits, as may from time to time be assigned 
 for that purpose in such foreign countries by her Majesty, 
 spiritual jurisdiction over the ministers of British congre- 
 gations of the United Church of England and Ireland, and 
 over such other Protestant Congregations, as may be desirous 
 of placing themselves under his or their authority." 
 
 Now here, at the very time that the Anglican Bishops 
 were directing their censure upon me for avowing an 
 approach to the Catholic Church not closer than I believed 
 the Anglican formularies would allow, the}" were on the 
 other hand, fraternizing, by their act or by their sufferance, 
 with Protestant bodies, and allowing them to put themselves 
 under an Anglican Bishop, without any renunciation of 
 
FROM 1S39 TO 1841. 143 
 
 their errors or regard to tlieir due reception of baptism and 
 confirmation ; while there was great reason to suppose that 
 the said Bishop was intended to make converts from the 
 orthodox Greeks, and the schismatical Oriental bodies, by 
 means of the iDfluence of England. This was the third 
 blow, which finally shattered my faith in the Anglican 
 Church. That Church was not only forbidding any sym- 
 pathy or concurrence with the Church of Rome, but it 
 actually was courting an intercommunion with Protestant 
 Prussia and the heresy of the Orientals. The Anglican 
 Church might have the Apostolical succession, as had the 
 Monophysites ; but such acts as were in progress led me 
 to the gravest suspicion, not that it would soon cease 
 to be a Church, but that, since the 16th century, it had 
 never been a Church all along. 
 
 On October 12th, I thus wrote to Mr. Bowden :— " We 
 have not a single Anglican in Jerusalem ; so we are sending 
 a Bishop to make a communion, not to govern our own 
 people. Next, the excuse is, that there are converted 
 Anglican Jews there who require a Bishop ; I am told 
 there are not half-a-dozen. But for them the Bishop is 
 sent out, and for them he is a Bishop of the circumcision '* 
 (I think he was a converted Jew, who boasted of his 
 Jewish descent), '' against the Epistle to the Galatians 
 pretty nearly. Thirdly, for the sake of Prussia, he is to 
 take under him all the foreign Protestants who will come ; 
 and the poKtical advantages will be so great, from the 
 influence of England, that there is no doubt they ?r/// come. 
 They are to sign the Confession of Augsburg, and there is 
 nothing to show that they hold the doctrine of Baptismal 
 Pegeneration. 
 
 "As to myself, I shall do nothing whatever publicly, 
 unless indeed it were to give my signature to a Protest ; 
 but I think it would be out of place in me to agitate, having 
 been in a way silenced; but the Archbishop is really 
 
144 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 doing most grave work, of whicli we cannot see the 
 end.'' 
 
 I did make a solemn Protest, and sent it to the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, and also sent it to my own Bishop, 
 with the following letter : — 
 
 *' It seems as if I were never to write to your Lordship, 
 without giving you pain, and I know that my present 
 subject does not sjDccially concern your Lordship; yet, after 
 a great deal of anxious thought, I lay before you the en- 
 closed Protest. 
 
 "Your Lordship will observe that I am not asking 
 for any notice of it, unless you think that I ought to 
 receive one. I do this very serious act in obedience to 
 my sense of duty. 
 
 " If the English Church is to enter on a new course, 
 and assume a new aspect, it will be more pleasant to 
 me hereafter to think, that I did not suffer so grievous 
 an event to happen, without bearing witness against it. 
 
 "May I be allowed to say, that I augur nothing but 
 evil, if we in any respect prejudice our title to be a 
 branch of the Apostolic Church ? That Article of the 
 Creed, I need hardly observe to your Lordship, is of 
 such constraining power, that, if ive will not claim it, 
 and use it for ourselves, others will use it in their own 
 behalf against us. Men who learn whether by means of 
 documents or measures, whether from the statements or 
 the acts of persons in authority, that our communion is 
 not a branch of the One Church, I foresee with much 
 grief, will be tempted to look out for that Church else- 
 where. 
 
 "It is to me a subject of great dismay, that, as far 
 as the Church has lately spoken out, on the subject of 
 the opinions which I and others hold, those opinions are, 
 not merely not sanctioned (for that I do not ask), but not 
 even suffered. 
 
FROM 1839 TO 1841. 145 
 
 " I earnestly liope that your Lordship will excuse my 
 freedom in thus speaking to you of some members of your 
 Most Rev. and Right Rev. Body. With every feeling 
 of reverent attachment to your Lordship, 
 
 ''lam, &c." 
 
 PROTEST. 
 
 " Whereas the Church of England has a claim on the 
 allegiance of Catholic believers only on the ground of her 
 own claim to be considered a branch of the Catholic 
 Church : 
 
 "And whereas the recognition of heresy, indirect as 
 well as direct, goes far to destroy such claim in the case of 
 any religious body : 
 
 " And whereas to admit maintainors of heresy to com- 
 munion, without formal renunciation of their errors, goes 
 far towards recognizing the same : 
 
 " And whereas Lutheranism and Calvinism are heresies, 
 repugnant to Scripture, springing up three centuries since, 
 and anathematized by East as well as West : 
 
 "And whereas it is reported that the Most Reverend 
 Primate and other Right Reverend Rulers of our Church 
 have consecrated a Bishop with a view to exercising spiri- 
 tual jurisdiction over Protestant, that is, Lutheran and 
 Calvinist congregations in the East (under the provisions 
 of an Act made in the last session of Parliament to amend 
 an Act made in the 26th year of the reign of his Majesty 
 King George the Third, intituled, ' An Act to empower 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury, or the Archbishop of York 
 for the time being, to consecrate to the office of Bishop 
 persons being subjects or citizens of countries out of his 
 Majesty's dominions'), dispensing at the same time, not 
 in particular cases and accidentally, but as if on principle 
 and universally, with any abjuration of error on the part 
 
146 HISTORY OF MY KELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 of sucli congregations, and with an}^ reconciliation to the 
 Church on the part of the presiding Bishop ; thereby giving 
 some sort of formal recognition to the doctrines which such 
 congregations maintain : 
 
 "And whereas the dioceses in England are connected 
 together by so close an intercommunion, that what is 
 done by authority in one, immediately affects the rest : 
 
 " On these grounds, I in my place, being a priest of the 
 English Church and Yicar of St. Mary the Yirgin's, 
 Oxford, by way of relieving my conscience, do hereby 
 solemnly protest against the measure aforesaid, and disown 
 it, as removing our Church from her present ground and 
 tending to her disorganization. 
 
 *'JoHN Henry Nevs^man. 
 
 "November 11, 1841.'-' 
 
 Looking back two years afterwards on the above-men- 
 tioned and other acts, on the part of Anglican Ecclesiasti- 
 cal authorities, T observed: "Many a man might have held 
 an abstract theory about the Catholic Church, to which it 
 was difficult to adjust the Anglican, — might have admitted 
 a suspicion, or even painful doubts about the latter, — yet 
 never have been impelled onwards, had our Eulers pre- 
 served the quiescence of former years ; but it is the 
 corroboration of a present, living, and energetic hetero- 
 doxy, which realizes and makes them practical ; it has 
 been the recent speeches and acts of authorities, who had 
 eo long been tolerant of Protestant error, which have given 
 to inquiry and to theory its force and its edge." 
 
 As to the project of a Jerusalem Bishopric, I never 
 heard of any good or harm it has ever done, except what 
 it has done for me ; which many think a great misfortune, 
 and I one of the greatest of mercies. It brought me on to 
 the beginning of the end. 
 
FKOJi 1841 TO 1845. 1'17 
 
 CHAPTER TV. 
 
 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS FROM 1841 TO 1845. 
 
 §1. 
 
 From the end of 1841, I was on my death-bed, as regards 
 my membership with the Anglican Church, though at the 
 time I became aware of it only by degrees. I introduce 
 what I have to say with this remark, by way of accounting 
 for the character of this remaining portion of my narrative. 
 A death-bed has scarcely a history ; it is a tedious decline, 
 with seasons of rallying and seasons of falling back ; and 
 since the end is foreseen, or what is called a matter of 
 time, it has little interest for the reader, especially if he 
 has a kind heart. Moreover, it is a season when doors are 
 closed and curtains drawn, and when the sick man neither 
 cares nor is able to record the stages of his malady. I 
 was in these circumstances, except so far as I was not 
 allowed to die in peace, — except so f\ir as friends, who had 
 still a full right to come in upon me, and the public world 
 which had not, have given a sort of history to those last four 
 years. But in consequence, my narrative must be in great 
 measure documentary, as I cannot rely on my memory, ex- 
 cept for definite particulars, positive or negative. Letters 
 of mine to friends since dead have come into my hands ; 
 others have been kindly lent me for the occasion ; and I 
 have some drafts of others, and some notes which I made, 
 though I have no strictly personal or continuous memo- 
 
148 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS 0P1^^I0NS 
 
 randa to consult, and have unluckily mislaid some valuable 
 papers. 
 
 And first as to my position in the view of duty ; it was 
 this : — 1. I had given up my place in the Movement in 
 my letter to the Bishop of Oxford in the spring of 1841 ; 
 but 2. I could not give up my duties towards the many 
 and various minds who had more or less been brought into 
 it by me ; 3. I expected or intended gradually to fall back 
 into Lay Communion ; 4. I never contemplated leaving 
 the Church of England ; 5. I could not hold office in its 
 service, if I were not allowed to hold the Catholic sense of 
 the Articles ; 6. I could not go to Rome, while she suffered 
 honours to be paid to the Blessed Virgin and the Saints 
 which I thought in my conscience to be incompatible with 
 the Supreme, Incommunicable Glory of the One Infinite 
 and Eternal ; 7. I desired a union with Rome under con- 
 ditions. Church with Church ; 8. 1 called Littlemore my 
 Torres Yedras, and thought that some day we might 
 advance again within the Anglican Church, as we had been 
 forced to retire ; 9. I kept back all persons who were dis- 
 posed to go to Rome with all my might. 
 
 And I kept them back for three or four reasons; 1. 
 because what I could not in conscience do myself, I could 
 not suffer them to do ; 2. because I thought that in various 
 cases they were acting under excitement ; 3. because I had 
 duties to my Bishop and to the Anglican Church ; and 4, 
 in some cases, because I had received from their Anglican 
 parents or superiors direct charge of them. 
 
 This was my view of my duty from the end of 1841, to 
 my resignation of St. Mary's in the autumn of 1843. And 
 now I shall relate my view, during that time, of the state 
 of the controversy between the Churches. 
 
 As soon as I saw the hitch in the Anglican argument, 
 during my course of reading in the summer of 1839, I 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 149 
 
 began to look about, as I have said, for some ground wliicb. 
 might supply a controversial basis for my need. The difh- 
 culty in question had affected my view both of Antiquity 
 and Catholicit}^ ; for, while the history of St. Leo showed 
 me that the deliberate and eventual consent of the great 
 body of the Church ratified a doctrinal decision as a part 
 of revealed truth, it also showed that the rule of Antiquity 
 was not infringed, though a doctrine had not been publicly 
 recognized as so revealed, till centuries after the time of 
 the Apostles. Thus, whereas the Creeds tell us that the 
 Church is One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic, I could not 
 prove that the Anglican communion was an integral part 
 of the One Church, on the ground of its teaching being 
 Apostolic or Catholic, without reasoning in favour of what 
 are commonly called the Roman corruptions ; and I could 
 not defend our separation from Home and her faith without 
 using arguments prejudicial to those great doctrines con- 
 cerning our Lord, which are the very foundation of the 
 Christian religion. The Via Media was an impossible 
 idea ; it was what I had called " standing on one leg ;" and 
 it was necessary, if my old issue of the controversy was to 
 be retained, to go further either one way or the other. 
 
 Accordingly, I abandoned that old ground and took 
 another. I deliberately quitted the old Anglican ground 
 as untenable ; though I did not do so all at once, but as I 
 became more and more convinced of the state of the case. 
 The Jerusalem Bishopi^ic was the ultimate condemnation 
 of the old theory of the Yia Media: — if its establishment 
 did nothing else, at least it demolished the sacredness of 
 diocesan rights. If England could be in Palestine, Rome 
 might be in England. But its bearing upon the contro- 
 versy, as I have shown in the foregoing chapter, was much 
 more serious than this technical ground. From that time 
 the Anglican Church was, in my mind, either not a 
 normal portion of that One Church to which the promises 
 
150 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIONS OPINIONS 
 
 were made, or at least in an abnormal state ; and from 
 that time I said boldly (as I did in my Protest, and as 
 indeed I had even intimated in my Letter to the Bishop of 
 Oxford), that the Church in which I fomid myself had no 
 claim on me, except on condition of its being a portion of 
 the One Catholic Communion, and that that condition 
 must ever be borne in mind as a practical matter, and had 
 to be distinctly proved. All this is not inconsistent with 
 my saying above that, at this time, I had no thought of 
 leaving the Church of England ; because I felt some of 
 my old objections against Rome as strongly as ever. I 
 had no right, I had no leave, to act against my conscience. 
 That was a higher rule than any argument about the 
 Notes of the Church. 
 
 Under these circumstances I turned for protection to the 
 Note of Sanctity, with a view of showing that we had at 
 least one of the necessary Notes, as fully as the Church of 
 Home; or, at least, without entering into comparisons, 
 that we had it in such a sufficient sense as to reconcile us 
 to our position, and to supply full evidence, and a clear 
 direction, on the point of practical duty. We had the 
 Note of Life, — not any sort of life, not such only as can 
 come of nature, but a supernatural Christian life, which 
 could only come directly from above. Thus, in my Article 
 in the British Critic, to which I have so often referred, in 
 January, 1840 (before the time of Tract 90), I said of the 
 Anglican Church that ''she has the note of possession, the 
 note of freedom from party titles, the note of life, — a tough 
 life and a vigorous ; she has ancient descent, unbroken 
 continuance, agreement in doctrine with the Ancient 
 Church." Presently I go on to speak of sanctity : " Much 
 as Roman Catholics may denounce us at present as schis- 
 matical, they could not resist us if the Anglican com- 
 munion had but that one note of the Church upon it, — 
 sanctity. The Church of the day [4th century] could not 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 151 
 
 resist Meletius ; liis enemies were fairly overcome by liim, 
 by bis meekness and boliness, wbicb melted tbe most 
 jealous of tbem." And I continue, " We are almost con- 
 tent to say to Romanists, account us not yet as a brancb of 
 tbe Catbolic Cburcb, tbougb we be a branch, till we are 
 like a brancb, provided tbat wben we do become like a 
 brancb, tben you consent to acknowledge us," &c. And 
 so I was led on in tbe Article to tbat sbarp attack on 
 Englisb Catbolics, for tbeir sbortcomings as regards tbis 
 Note, a good portion of wbicb I bave already quoted in 
 anotber place. It is tbere tbat I speak of tbe great 
 scandal wbicb I took at tbeir political, social, and contro- 
 versial bearing ; and tbis was a second reason wby I fell 
 back upon tbe JSTote of Sanctity, because it took me away 
 from tbe necessit}^ of making any attack upon tbe doc- 
 trines of tbe Koman Cburcb, nay, from tbe consideration 
 of ber popular beliefs, and brougbt me upon a ground on 
 wbicb I felt I could not make a mistake ; for wbat is a 
 bigber guide for us in speculation and in practice, tban 
 tbat conscience of rigbt and wrong, of trutb and falsehood, 
 tkose sentiments of wbat is decorous, consistent, and noble, 
 wbicb our Creator bas made a part of our original nature ? 
 Therefore I felt I could not be wrong in attacking wbat I 
 fancied was a fact, — the unscrupulousness, tbe deceit, and 
 tbe intriguing spirit of tbe agents and representatives of 
 Home. 
 
 Tbis reference to Holiness as tbe true test of a Church 
 was steadily kept in view in wbat I wrote in connexion 
 with Tract 90. I say in its Introduction, " Tbe writer 
 can never be party to forcing tbe opinions or projects of 
 one school upon anotber ; religious changes should be tbe 
 act of tbe whole body. No good can come of a change 
 which is not a development of feelings springing up freely 
 and calmly within the bosom of tbe whole body itself; 
 every change in religion" must be "attended by deep re- 
 
152 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 peiitance ; changes" must be ^' nurtured in mutual love ; 
 we cannot agree without a supernatural influence ;" we 
 must come " together to God to do for us what we cannot 
 do for ourselves." In my Letter to the Bishop I said, *' I 
 have set myself against suggestions for considering the 
 differences between ourselves and the foreign Churches 
 with a view to their adjustment." (I meant in the way of 
 negotiation, conference, agitation, or the like.) " Our 
 business is with ourselves, — to make ourselves more holy, 
 more self-denying, more primitive, more worthy of our 
 high calling. To be anxious for a composition of differ- 
 ences is to begin at the end. Political reconciliations are 
 but outward and hollow, and fallacious. And till Roman 
 Catholics renounce political efforts, and manifest in their 
 public measures the light of holiness and truth, perpetual 
 war is our only prospect." 
 
 According to this theory, a religious body is part of the 
 One Catholic and Apostolic Church, if it has the succession 
 and the creed of the Apostles, with the note of holiness of 
 life ; and there is much in such a view to approve itself to 
 the direct common sense and practical habits of an English- 
 man. However, with the events consequent upon Tract 90, 
 I sunk m}^ theory to a lower level. For what could be said 
 in apology, when the Bishops and the people of my Church, 
 not only did not suffer, but actually rejected primitive 
 Catholic doctrine, and tried to eject from their communion 
 all who held it ? after the Bishops' charges ? after the 
 Jerusalem "abomination^?" Well, this could be said; 
 still we were not nothing : we could not be as if we never 
 had been a Church ; we were " Samaria." This then was 
 that lower level on which I placed myself, and all who 
 felt with me, at the end of 1841. 
 
 To bring out this view was the purpose of Four Sermons 
 
 » Matt. xxiv. 15. 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 153 
 
 preached at St. Mary's in December of that year. Hitherto 
 I had not introduced the exciting topics of the day into 
 the Pulpit ^ ; on this occasion I did. I did so, for the 
 moment was urgent ; there was great unsettlement of 
 mind among us, in consequence of those same events which. 
 had unsettled me. One special anxiety, very obvious, 
 which was coming on me now, was, that what was " one 
 man's meat was another man's poison." I had said even 
 of Tract 90, "It was addressed to one set of persons, and 
 has been used and commented on by another ;" still more 
 was it true now, that whatever I wrote for the service of 
 those whom I knew to be in trouble of mind, would become 
 on the one hand matter of suspicion and slander in the 
 mouths of my opponents, and of distress and surprise to 
 those on the other hand, who had no difficulties of faith at 
 all. Accordingly, when I published these Four Sermons 
 at the end of 1843, I introduced them with a recommenda- 
 tion that none should read them who did not need them. 
 But in truth the virtual condemnation of Tract 90, after 
 that the whole difficulty seemed to have been weathered, 
 was an enormous disappointment and trial. My Protest 
 also against the Jerusalem Bishopric was an unavoidable 
 cause of excitement in the case of many ; but it calmed 
 them too, for the very fact of a Protest was a relief to their 
 impatience. And so, in like manner, as regards the Four 
 Sermons, of which I speak, though they acknowledged 
 freely the great scandal which was involved in the recent 
 episcopal doings, yet at the same time they might be said 
 to bestow upon the multiplied disorders and shortcomings 
 of the Anglican Church a sort of place in the Bevealed 
 Dispensation, and an intellectual position in the contro- 
 versy, and the dignity of a great principle, for unsettled 
 minds to take and use,— a principle which might teach 
 
 2 Vide Note C. Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence. 
 
154 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIO^'S 
 
 them to recognize their own consistency, and to be recon- 
 ciled to tliemselves, and which might absorb and dry up a 
 multitude of their grudgings, discontents, misgivings, and 
 questionings, and lead the w^ay to humble, thankful, and 
 tranquil thoughts ; — and this was the effect which certainly 
 it produced on myself. 
 
 The point of these Sermons is, that, in spite of the rigid 
 character of the Jewish law, the formal and literal force of 
 its precepts, and the manifest schism, and worse than 
 schism, of the Ten Tribes, yet in fact they were still recog- 
 nized as a people by the Divine Mercy ; that the great 
 prophets Elias and Eliseus were sent to them ; and not 
 only so, but were sent to preach to them and reclaim them, 
 without any intimation that they must be reconciled to the 
 line of David and the Aaronic priesthood, or go up to 
 Jerusalem to worship. They were not in the Church, yet 
 they had the means of grace and the hope of acceptance 
 with their Maker. The application of all this to the 
 Anglican Church was immediate ; —w^hether, under the 
 circumstances, a man could assume or exercise ministerial 
 functions, or not, might not clearly appear (though it must 
 be remembered that England had the Apostolic Priest- 
 hood, whereas Israel had no priesthood at all), but so far 
 was clear, that there was no call at all for an Anglican to 
 leave his Church for Rome, though he did not believe his 
 own to be part of the One Church : — and for this reason, 
 because it was a fact that the kingdom of Israel was cut off 
 from the Temple ; and yet its subjects, neither in a mass, 
 nor as individuals, neither the multitudes on Mount 
 Carmel, nor the Shunammite and her household, had any 
 command given them, though miracles were disjDlaj^ed 
 before them, to break off from their own people, and to 
 submit themselves to Judah ^ 
 
 3 As I am not writing controversially, I will only hero remark upon this 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 155 
 
 It is plain, that a theory such as this, — whether the 
 marks of a divine presence and life in the Anglican 
 Church were sufficient to prove that she was actually 
 within the covenant, or only sufficient to prove that she 
 was at least enjoying extraordinary and uncovenanted 
 mercies, — not only lowered her level in a religious point 
 of view, but weakened her controversial basis. Its very 
 novelty made it suspicious ; and there was no guarantee 
 that the process of subsidence might not continue, and 
 that it might not end in a submersion. Indeed, to many 
 minds, to say that England was wrong was even to say 
 that Rome was right; and no ethical or casuistic reasoning 
 whatever could overcome in their case the argument from 
 prescription and authority. To this objection, as made 
 to my new teaching, I could only answer that I did not 
 make my circumstances. I fully acknowledged the force 
 and effectiveness of the genuine Anglican theory, and that 
 it was all but proof against the disputants of Rome ; but 
 still like Achilles, it had a vulnerable point, and that St. 
 Leo had found it out for me, and that I could not help it ; 
 — that, wxre it not for matter of fact, the theory would be 
 great indeed ; it would be irresistible, if it were only true. 
 When I became a Catholic, the Editor of the Christian 
 Observer, Mr. AYilkes, who had in former days accused 
 me, to my indignation, of tending towards Rome, wrote to 
 me to ask, which of the two was now right, he or I ? I 
 answered him in a letter, part of which I here insert, as it 
 will serve as a sort of leave-taking of the great theory, 
 which is so specious to look upon, so difficult to prove, and 
 so hopeless to work. 
 
 " ]^ov. 8, 1845. I do not think, at all more than I did, 
 
 argument, that there is a great difTerence between a command, which presup- 
 poses pnysical, material, and political conditions, and one which is moral. 
 To go to Jerusalem was a matter of the body, not of the soul. 
 
156 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 that the Anglican principles which I advocated at the date 
 you mention, lead men to the Church of Rome. If I must 
 specify what I mean by * Anglican principles,' I should 
 say, e. g. taking Antiquity, not the existing Church, as the 
 oracle of truth ; and holding that the Apostolical Succession 
 is a sufBcient guarantee of Sacramental Grace, tvithout 
 vnion with the Christian Church throughout the world. I 
 think these still the firmest, strongest ground against 
 Rome— that is, if they can he hekV^ [as truths or facts.] 
 " They have been held by many, and are far more difficult 
 to refute in the Roman controversy, than those of any 
 other religious body. 
 
 " For myself, I found I could not hold them. I left 
 them. From the time I began to suspect their unsound- 
 ness, I ceased to put them forward. When I was fairly 
 sure of their unsoundness, I gave up my Living. When 
 I was fully confident that the Church of Rome was the 
 only true Church, I joined her. 
 
 " I have felt all along that Bp. Bull's theology was the 
 only theology on which the English Church could stand. 
 I have felt, that opposition to the Church of Rome was 
 part of that theology ; and that he who could not protest 
 against the Church of Rome was no true divine in the 
 English Church. I have never said, nor attempted to say, 
 that any one in office in the English Church, whether 
 Bishop or incumbent, could be otherwise than in hostility 
 to the Church of Rome." 
 
 The Via Media then disappeared for ever, and a Theory, 
 made expressly for the occasion, took its place. I was 
 pleased with my new view. I wrote to an intimate friend, 
 Samuel F. Wood, Dec. 13, 1841 : " I think you will give 
 me the credit, Carissime, of not undervaluing the strength 
 of the feelings which draw one [to Rome], and yet I am 
 (I trust) quite clear about my duty to remain where I am; 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 157 
 
 indeed, much clearer than. I was some time since. If it is 
 not presumptuous to say, I have ... a much more definite 
 view of the promised inward Presence of Christ with us 
 in the Sacraments now that the outward notes of it are 
 being removed. And I am content to be with Moses in 
 the desert, or with Elijah excommunicated from the 
 Temple. I say this, putting things at the strongest." 
 
 However, my friends of the moderate Apostolical party, 
 who were my friends for the very reason of my having 
 been so moderate and Anglican myself in general tone in 
 times past, who had stood up for Tract 90 partly from 
 faith in me, and certainly from generous and kind feeling, 
 and had thereby shared an obloquy which was none of 
 theirs, were naturally surprised and offended at a line of 
 argument, novel, and, as it appeared to them, wanton, which 
 threw the whole controversy into confusion, stidtified my 
 former principles, and substituted, as they would consider, 
 a sort of methodistic self-contemplation, especially abhor- 
 rent both to my nature and to my joast professions, for the 
 plain and honest tokens, as they were commonly received, 
 of a divine mission in the Anglican Church. They could 
 not tell whither I was going ; and were still further an- 
 noyed when I persisted in viewing the reception of Tract 
 90 by the public and the Bishops as so grave a matter, 
 and when I threw about what they considered mysterious 
 hints of " eventualities," and would not simpler say, " An 
 Anglican I was born, and an Anglican I will die." One 
 of my familiar friends, Mr. Church, who was in the 
 country at Christmas, 1841-2, reported to me the feeling 
 that prevailed about me ; and how I felt towards it will 
 appear in the following letter of mine, written in. 
 answer: — 
 
 " Oriel, Dec. 24, 1841. Carissime, you cannot teU how 
 sad your account of Moberly has made me. His view of 
 the sinfulness of the decrees of Trent is as much against 
 
158 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 union of Cliurclies as against individual conversions. To 
 tell the truth, I never have examined those decrees with, 
 this object, and have no view ; but that is very different 
 from having a deliberate view against them. Could not 
 he say ivhicli they are ? I suppose Transubstantiation is 
 one. Charles Marriott, though of course he would not 
 like to have it repeated*, does not scruple at that. I have 
 not my mind clear. Moberly must recollect that Palmer 
 [of Worcester] thinks they all bear a Catholic interpre- 
 tation. For myself, this only I see, that there is in- 
 definitely more in the Fathers against our own state of 
 alienation from Christendom than against the Tridentine 
 Decrees. 
 
 " The only thing I can think of," [that I can have said 
 of a startling character,] " is this, that there were persons 
 who, if our Church committed herself to heresy, sooner 
 than think that there was no Church any where, would 
 believe the Roman to be the Church ; and therefore would 
 on faith accept what they could not otherwise acquiesce in. 
 I suppose, it would be no relief to him to insist upon the 
 circumstance that there is no immediate danger. Indivi- 
 duals can never be answered for of course ; but I should 
 think lightly of that man, who, for some act of the Bishops, 
 should all at once leave the Church. IN^ow, considering 
 how the Clergy really are improving, considering that this 
 row is even making them read the Tracts, is it not possible 
 we may all be in a better state of mind seven years hence 
 to consider these matters ? and may w^e not leave them 
 meanwhile to the will of Providence ? I cannot believe 
 this work has been of man ; God has a right to His ow^n 
 work, to do what He will with it. May we not try to 
 leave it in His hands, and be content ? 
 
 * As things stand now, I do not think he would have objected to his opinion 
 being generally known. 
 
FiioM 1841 TO 1845. 159 
 
 " If you learn any thing about Barter, whicli leads you 
 to think that I can reKeve him by a letter, let me know. 
 The truth is this, — our good friends do not read the 
 Fathers ; they assent to us from the common sense of the 
 case : then, when the Fathers, and we, say more than their 
 common sense, they are dreadfully shocked. 
 
 "The Bishop of London has rejected a man, 1. For 
 holding ani/ Sacrifice in the Eucharist. 2. The Real Pre- 
 sence. f3. That there is a grace in Ordination ^ 
 
 " Are we quite sure that the Bishops will not be draw- 
 ing up some stringent declarations of faith ? Is this what 
 Moberly fears ? Would the Bishop of Oxford accept 
 them ? If so, I should be driven into the Refuge for the 
 Destitute [Littlemore]. But I promise Moberly, I would 
 do my utmost to catch all dangerous persons and clap them 
 into confinement there." 
 
 Christmas Day, 1841. " I have been dreaming of 
 Moberly all night. Should not he and the like see, that 
 it is unwise, unfair, and impatient to ask others, What 
 will you do under circumstances, which have not, which 
 may never come ? Why bring fear, suspicion, and dis- 
 union into the camp about things which are merely in 
 posse ? Natural, and exceedingly kind as Barter's and 
 another friend's letters were, I think they have done great 
 harm. I speak most sincerely when I say, that there are 
 things which I neither contemplate, nor wish to contem- 
 plate ; but, when I am asked about them ten times, at 
 length I begin to contemplate them. 
 
 " He surely does not mean to say, that nothing could 
 separate a man from the English Church, e. g. its avowing 
 Socinianism ; its holding the Holy Eucharist in a Socinian 
 
 * I cannot prove this at this distance of time ; but I do not think it wrong 
 to introduce here the passage containing it, as I am imputing to the Bishop 
 nothing which the world would think disgraceful, but, on the contrary, what a 
 lar((e religious body would approve. 
 
160 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIOXS 
 
 sense. Yet, he would say, it was not right to contemplate 
 such things. 
 
 "Again, our case is [diverging] from that of Ken's. 
 To say nothing of the last miserable century, which has 
 given us to start from a much lower level and with much 
 less to S2)are than a Churchman in the 17th century, ques- 
 tions of doctrine are now coming in ; with him, it was a 
 question of discipline. 
 
 "If such dreadful events were realized, I cannot help 
 thinking we should all be vastly more agreed than we 
 think now. Indeed, is it possible (humanly speaking) that 
 those, who have so much the same heart, should widely 
 differ? But let this be considered, as to alternatives. 
 What communion could we join ? Could the Scotch or 
 American sanction the presence of its Bishops and congre- 
 gations in England, without incurring the imputation of 
 schism, unless indeed (and is that likely ?) they denounced 
 the English as heretical ? 
 
 " Is not this a time of strange providences ? is it not 
 our safest course, without looking to consequences, to do 
 simply ivhat we think right day by day ? shall we not be 
 sure to go wrong, if we attempt to trace by anticipation 
 the course of divine Providence ? 
 
 " Has not all our miserj^ as a Church, arisen from 
 people being afraid to look difficulties in the face ? They 
 have palliated acts, when they should have denounced 
 them. There is that good fellow, Worcester Palmer, can 
 whitewash the Ecclesiastical Commission and the Jerusalem 
 Bishopric. And what is the consequence? that our Church 
 has, through centuries, e\Qv been sinking lower and lower, 
 till good part of its pretensions and professions is a mere 
 sham, though it be a duty to make the best of what we 
 have received. Yet, though bound to make the best of 
 other men's shams, let us not incur any of our own. The 
 truest friends of our Church are they, who say boldly when 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 161 
 
 her rulers are going wrong, and the consequences ; and 
 (to speak catachrestically) they are most likely to die in 
 the Church, who are, under these black circumstances, 
 most prepared to leave it. 
 
 **And I will add, that, considering the traces of God's 
 grace which surround us, I am very sanguine, or rather 
 confident, (if it is right so to speak,) that our prayers and 
 our alms will come up as a memorial before God, and that 
 all this miserable confusion tends to good. 
 
 " Let us not then be anxious, and anticipate difierences 
 in prospect, when we agree in the present. 
 
 " P. S. I think when friends " [i. e. the extreme party] 
 " get over their first un settlement of mind and consequent 
 vague apprehensions, which the new attitude of the 
 Bishops, and our feelings upon it, have brought about, 
 they will get contented and satisfied. They will see that 
 they exaggerated things. ... Of course it would have 
 been wrong to anticipate what one's feelings would be 
 under such a painful contingency as the Bishops' charging 
 as they have done, — so it seems to me nobody's fault. 
 Nor is it wonderful that others" [moderate men] "are 
 startled " [i. e. at my Protest, &c. &c.] ; " yet they should 
 recollect that the more implicit the reverence one paj^s to 
 a Bishop, the more keen will be one's perception of heresy 
 in him. The cord is binding and compelling, till it snaps. 
 
 " Men of reflection would have seen this, if they had 
 looked that way. Last spring, a very high churchman 
 talked to me of resisting my Bishop, of asking him for 
 the Canons under which he acted, and so forth ; but those, 
 who have cultivated a loyal feeling towards their superiors, 
 are the most loving servants, or the most zealous pro- 
 testors. If others became so too, if the clergy of Chester 
 denounced the heresy of their diocesan, they would be doing 
 their duty, and relieving themselves of the share which they 
 otherwise have in any possible defection of their brethren. 
 
 M 
 
162 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPIXIONS 
 
 "St. Stephen's [Dnj, December 26]. Howl fidget! 
 I now fear that the note I wrote yesterday only makes 
 matters worse by disclosing too much. This is always my 
 great difficulty. 
 
 "In the present state of excitement on both sides, I 
 think of leaving out altogether my reassertion of No. 90 
 in my Preface to Yolume 6 [of Parochial Sermons], and 
 merel}^ saying, ' As many false reports are at this time in 
 circulation about him, he hopes his well-wishers will take 
 this Volume as an indication of his real thoughts and feel- 
 ings : those who are not, he leaves in God's hand to bring 
 them to a better mind in His own time.' AVhat do you 
 say to the logic, sentiment, and propriety of this?" 
 
 An old friend, at a distance from Oxford, Archdeacon 
 Robert I. Wilberforce, must have said something to me 
 at this time, I do not know what, which challenged a frank 
 reply; for I disclosed to him, I do not know in what words, 
 my frightful suspicion, hitherto only known to two persons, 
 viz. his brother Henry, and Mr. (now Sir Frederick) Rogers, 
 that, as regards my Anglicanism, perhaps I might break 
 down in the event, — that perhaps we were both out of the 
 Church. I think I recollect expressing my difficulty, as 
 derived from the Arian and Monophysite history, in a 
 form in which it would be most intelligible to him, as 
 being in fact an admission of Bishop Bull's ; viz. that in 
 the controversies of the early centuries the Roman Church 
 was ever on the right side, which was of course a prima facie 
 argument in favour of Rome and against Anglicanism 
 now. He answered me thus, under date of Jan. 29, 1842 : 
 " I don't think that I ever was so shocked by any com- 
 munication, which was ever made to me, as by your letter 
 of this morning. It has quite unnerved me. ... I cannot 
 but write to you, though I am at a loss where to begin. 
 ... I know of no act by which we have dissevered our- 
 selves from the communion of the Church Universal. . . . 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 163 
 
 The more I study Scripture, the more am I impressed 
 with the resemblance-between the Romish principle in the 
 Church and the Babylon of St. John. ... I am ready to 
 grieve that I ever directed my thoughts to theology, if 
 it is indeed so uncertain, as your doubts seem to indi- 
 cate." 
 
 While my old and true friends were thus in trouble 
 about me, I suppose they felt not only anxiety but pain, to 
 see that I was gradually surrendering myself to the influ- 
 ence of others, who had not their own claims upon me, 
 younger men, and of a cast of mind in no small degree un- 
 congenial to my own. A new school of thought was rising, 
 as is usual in doctrinal inquiries, and was sweeping the 
 original party of the Movement aside, and was taking its 
 place. The most prominent person in it, was a man of 
 elegant genius, of classical mind, of rare talent in literary 
 composition : — Mr. Oakeley. He was not far from my 
 own age ; I had long known him, though of late years he 
 had not been in residence at Oxford ; and quite lately, he 
 has been taking several signal occasions of renewing that 
 kindness, which he ever showed towards me when we were 
 both in the Anglican Church. His tone of mind was not 
 unlike that which gave a character to the early Movement ; 
 he was almost a tj^pical Oxford man, and, as far as I recol- 
 lect, both in political and ecclesiastical views, would have 
 been of one spirit with the Oriel party of 1826 — 1833. 
 But he had entered late into the Movement ; he did not 
 know its first years ; and, beginning with a new start, he 
 was naturally thrown together with that body of eager, 
 acute, resolute minds who had begun their Catholic life 
 about the same time as he, who knew nothing about the 
 Via Media, but had heard much about Rome. This new 
 party rapidly formed and increased, in and out of Oxford, 
 and, as it so happened, contemporaneously with that very 
 
164 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 summer, when I received so serious a blow to my ecclesi- 
 astical views from the study of the Monophysite contro- 
 versy. These men cut into the original Movement at an 
 angle, fell across its line of thought, and then set about 
 turning that line in its own direction. They were most of 
 them keenly religious men, with a true concern for their 
 souls as the first matter of all, with a great zeal for me, 
 but giving little certainty at the time as to which way they 
 would ultimately turn. Some in the event have remained 
 firm to Anglicanism, some have become Catholics, and 
 some have found a refuge in Liberalism. Nothing was 
 clearer concerning them, than that they needed to be kept 
 in order ; and on me who had had so much to do with the 
 making of them, that duty was as clearly incumbent ; and 
 it is equally clear, from what I have already said, that I 
 was just the person, above all others, who could not un- 
 dertake it. There are no friends like old friends ; but of 
 those old friends, few could help me, few could understand 
 me, many were annoyed with me, some were angry, 
 because I was breaking up a compact party, and some, as 
 a matter of conscience, could not listen to me. When I 
 looked round for those whom I might consult in my diffi- 
 culties, I found the very hypothesis of those difficulties 
 acting as a bar to their giving me their advice. Then I 
 said, bitterly, " You are throwing me on others, whether I 
 will or no." Yet still I had good and true friends around 
 me of the old sort, in and out of Oxford too, who were a 
 great help to me. But on the other hand, though I neither 
 was so fond (with a few exceptions) of the persons, nor of 
 the methods of thought, which belonged to this new school, 
 as of the old set, though I could not trust in their firmness 
 of purpose, for, like a swarm of flies, they might come and 
 go, and at length be divided and dissipated, yet I had 
 an intense sympathy in their object and in the direction 
 in which their path lay, in spite of my old friends, in spite 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 165 
 
 of my old life-long prejudices. In spite of my ingrained 
 fears of Rome, and the decision of my reason and con 
 science against her usages, in spite of m}^ affection for 
 Oxford and Oriel, yet I had a secret longing love of Eome 
 the Mother of English Christianity, and I had a true devo- 
 tion to the Blessed Virgin, in whose College I lived, whose 
 Altar I served, and whose Immaculate Purity I had in one 
 of my earliest printed Sermons made much of. And it 
 was the consciousness of this bias in myself, if it is so to 
 be called, which made me preach so earnestly against the 
 danger of being swayed in religious inquiry by our sym- 
 pathy rather than by our reason. And moreover, the 
 members of this new school looked up to me, as I have 
 said, and did me true kindnesses, and really loved me, and 
 stood by me in trouble, when others went away, and for 
 all this I was grateful ; na}^, many of them were in 
 trouble themselves, and in the same boat with me, and 
 that was a further cause of sympathy between us ; and 
 hence it was, when the new school came on in force, and 
 into collision with the old, I had not the heart, any more 
 than the power, to repel them ; I was in great perplexity, 
 and hardly knew where I stood ; I took their part ; and, 
 when I wanted to be in peace and silence, I had to speak 
 out, and I incurred the charge of weakness from some 
 men, and of mj^steriousness, shuffling, and underhand 
 dealing from the majority. 
 
 Now I will say here franklj^, that this sort of charge is a 
 matter which I cannot properly meet, because I cannot 
 duly realize it. I have never had any suspicion of my 
 own honesty; and, when men say that I was dishonest, I 
 cannot grasp the accusation as a distinct conception, such 
 as it is possible to encounter. If a man said to me, " On 
 such a day and before such persons you said a thing was 
 white, when it was black," I understand what is meant 
 
166 HISTORY OV MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 well enougli, and I can set myself to prove an alibi or to 
 explain the mistake; or if a man said to me, ''You tried 
 to gain me over to your party, intending to take me with 
 you to Rome, but you did not succeed," I can give him 
 the lie, and lay down an assertion of my own as firm and 
 as exact as his, that not from the time that I was first un- 
 settled, did I ever attempt to gain any one over to myself 
 or to my Romanizing opinions, and that it is only his own 
 coxcombical fancy which has bred such a thought in him : 
 but my imagination is at a loss in presence of those vague 
 charges, which have commonly been brought against me, 
 charges, which are made up of impressions, and under- 
 standings, and inferences, and hearsay, and surmises. 
 Accordingly, I shall not make the attempt, for, in doing 
 so, I should be dealing blows in the air ; what I shall 
 attempt is to state what I know of mj^self and what I 
 recollect, and leave to others its application. 
 
 While I had confidence in the Via Media, and thought 
 that nothing could overset it, I did not mind laying down 
 large principles, which I saw would go farther than was 
 commonly perceived. I considered that to make the Via 
 Media concrete and substantive, it must be much more 
 than it was in outline; that the Anglican Church must 
 have a ceremonial, a ritual, and a fulness of doctrine and 
 devotion, which it had not at present, if it were to compete 
 with the Roman Church with any prospect of success. 
 Such additions would not remove it from its proper basis, 
 but would merely strengthen and beautify it : such, for 
 instance, would be confrateriiities, particular devotions, 
 reverence for the Blessed Virgin, prayers for the dead, 
 beautifid churches, munificent offerings to them and in 
 them, monastic houses, and many other observances and 
 institutions, which I used to say belonged to us as much 
 as to Rome, though Rome had approj)riated them and 
 boasted of them, by reason of our having let them slip 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1S45. 167 
 
 from us. The principle, on which all this turned,, is 
 brought out in one of the Letters I published on occasion 
 of Tract 90. "The age is moving," I said, ''towards 
 something; and most unhappily the one religious com- 
 munion among us, which has of late years been practically 
 in possession of this something, is the Church of Rome. 
 She alone, amid all the errors and evils of her practical 
 system, has given free scope to the feelings of awe, mystery, 
 tenderness, reverence, devotedness, and other feeKngs 
 which may be especially called Catholic. The question 
 then is, whether we shall give them up to the Roman 
 Church or claim them for ourselves. . . . But if we do 
 give them up, we must give up the men who cherish them. 
 We must consent either to give up the men, or to admit 
 their principles." "With these feelings I frankly admit, 
 that, while I was working simply for the sake of the 
 Anglican Church, I did not at all mind, though I found 
 myself laying down principles in its defence, which went 
 beyond that particular kind of defence which high-and-dry 
 men thought perfection, and even though I ended in fram- 
 ing a kind of defence, which they might call a revolution, 
 while I thought it a restoration. Thus, for illustration, I 
 might discourse upon the " Communion of Saints" in such 
 a manner, (though I do not recollect doing so,) as might 
 lead the way towards devotion to the Blessed Virgin and 
 the Saints on. the one hand, and towards prayers for the 
 dead on the other. In a memorandum of the j-ear 1844 or 
 1845, I thus speak on this subject : " If the Church be not 
 defended on establishment grounds, it must be upon 
 principles, which go far beyond their immediate object. 
 Sometimes I saw these further results, sometimes not. 
 Though I saw them, I sometimes did not say that I saw 
 them : — so long as I thought they were inconsistent, not 
 with our Church, but only with the existing opinions, I 
 
168 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 was not unwilling to insinuate truths into our Church, 
 which I thought had a right to be there." 
 
 To so much I confess ; but I do not confess, I simply 
 deny that I ever said any thing which secretly bore against 
 the Church of England, knowing it myself, in order that 
 others might unwarily accept it. It was indeed one of my 
 great difficulties and causes of reserve, as time went on, 
 that I at length recognized in principles which I had 
 honestly preached as if Anglican, conclusions favourable 
 to the cause of Eome. Of course I did not like to confess 
 this ; and, when interrogated, was in consequence in per- 
 plexity. The prime instance of this was the appeal to 
 Antiquity ; St. Leo had overset, in my own judgment, its 
 force as the special argument for Anglicanism ; yet I was 
 committed to Antiquity, together with the whole Anglican 
 school ; what then was I to say, when acute minds urged 
 this or that application of it against the Via Media ? it was 
 impossible that, in such circumstances, any answer could 
 be given which was not unsatisfactory, or any behaviour 
 ' adopted which was not mysterious. Again, sometimes in 
 what I wrote I went just as far as I saw, and could as little 
 say more, as I could see what is below the horizon ; and 
 therefore, when asked as to the consequences of what I had 
 said, I had no answer to give. Again, sometimes when I 
 was asked, whether certain conclusions did not follow from 
 a certain principle, I might not be able to tell at the 
 moment, especially if the matter were complicated ; and 
 for this reason, if for no other, because there is great differ- 
 ence between a conclusion in the abstract and a conclusion 
 in the concrete, and because a conclusion may be modified 
 in fact by a conclusion from some opposite principle. Or 
 it might so happen that my head got simply confused, by 
 the very strength of the logic which was administered to 
 me, and thus I gave my sanction to conclusions which really 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 169 
 
 were not mine ; and when the report of those conclusions 
 came round to me through others, I had to unsay them. 
 And then again, perhaps I did not like to see men scared 
 or scandalized by unfeeling logical inferences, which would 
 not have troubled them to the day of their death, had they 
 not been forced to recognize them. And then I felt alto- 
 gether the force of the maxim of St. Ambrose, ** Non in 
 dialectica complacuit Deo salvum facere populum suum ;" — 
 I had a great dislike of paper logic. For myself, it was 
 not logic that carried me on ; as well might one say that 
 the quicksilver in the barometer changes the weather. It 
 is the concrete being that reasons ; pass a number of years, 
 and I find my mind in a new place ; how ? the whole man 
 moves ; paper logic is but the record of it. All the logic 
 in the world would not have made me move faster towards 
 Rome than I did; as well might you say that I have 
 arrived at the end of my journey, because I see the village 
 church before me, as venture to assert that the miles, over 
 which my soul had to pass before it got to Eome, could be 
 annihilated, even though I had been in possession of some 
 far clearer view than I then had, that Rome was my ulti- 
 mate destination. Great acts take time. At least this is 
 what I felt in my own case ; and therefore to come to me 
 with methods of logic had in it the nature of a provoca- 
 tion, and, though I do not think I ever show^ed it, made 
 me somewhat indifferent how I met them, and perhaps led 
 me, as a means of relieving my impatience, to be mysteri- 
 ous or irrelevant, or to give in because I could not meet 
 them to my satisfaction. And a greater trouble still than 
 these logical mazes, was the introduction of logic into 
 every subject whatever, so far, that is^ as this was done. 
 Before I was at Oriel, I recollect an acquaintance saying 
 to me that " the Oriel Common Room stank of Logic' 
 One is not at all pleased when poetry, or eloquence, or de- 
 
170 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 votion, is considered as if chiefly intended to feed syllo- 
 gisms. Now, in saying all this, I am saying nothing 
 against the deep piety and earnestness which were charac- 
 teristics of this second phase of the Movement, in which I 
 had taken so prominent a part. What I have been 
 observing is, that this phase had a tendency to bewilder 
 and to upset me; and, that, instead of saying so, as I 
 ought to have done, perhaps from a sort of laziness I gave 
 answers at random, which have led to my appearing close 
 or inconsistent. 
 
 I have turned up two letters of this period, which in a 
 measure illustrate what I have been saying. The first was 
 written to the Bishop of Oxford on occasion of Tract 90 : 
 
 "March 20, 1841. No one can enter into my situation 
 but myself. I see a great many minds working in various 
 directions and a variety of principles with multiplied bear- 
 ings ; I act for the best. I sincerely think that matters 
 would not have gone better for the Church, had I never 
 written. And if I write I have a choice of difficulties. 
 It is easy for those who do not enter into those difficulties 
 to say, ' He ought to say this and not say that,' but things 
 are wonderfully linked together, and I cannot, or rather I 
 would not be dishonest. When persons too interrogate 
 me, I am obliged in many cases to give an opinion, or I 
 seem to be underhand. Keeping silence looks like artifice. 
 And I do not like people to consult or respect me, from 
 thinking differently of my opinions from what I know 
 them to be. And again (to use the proverb) what is one 
 man's food is another man's poison. All these things 
 make my situation very difficult. But that collision must 
 at some time ensue between members of the Church of 
 opposite sentiments, I have long been aware. The time 
 and mode has been in the hand of Providence ; I do not 
 mean to exclude my own great imperfections in bringing 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 171 
 
 it about ; yet I still feel obliged to think the Tract 
 necessary." 
 
 The second is taken from the notes of a letter which I 
 sent to Dr. Pusey in the next year : 
 
 "October 16, 1842. As to my being entirely with 
 Ward, I do not know the limits of my own opinions. If 
 Ward says that this or that is a development from what 
 I have said, I cannot say Yes or ]!so. It is plausible, it 
 maj/ be true. Of course the fact that the Roman Church 
 //as so developed and maintained, adds great weight to the 
 antecedent plausibility. I cannot assert that it is not 
 true ; but I cannot, with that keen perception which some 
 people have, appropriate it. It is a nuisance to me to be 
 forced beyond what I can fairly accept. 
 
 There was another source of the perplexity with which 
 at this time I was encompassed, and of the reserve and 
 mysteriousness, of which that perplexity gained for me the 
 credit. After Tract 90 the Protestant world would not let 
 me alone; they pursued me in the public journals to 
 Littlemore. Reports of all kinds were circulated about 
 me. " Imprimis, why did I go up to Littlemore at all ? 
 For no good purpose certainly; I dared not tell why." 
 Why, to be sure, it was hard that I should be obliged to 
 say to the Editors of newspapers that I went np there to 
 say my prayers-; it was hard to have to teU the world in 
 confidence, that I had a certain doubt about the Anglican 
 system, and could not at that moment resolve it, or say 
 what would come of it ; it was hard to have to confess 
 that I had thought of giving up my Living a year or two 
 before, and that this was a first step to it. It was hard to 
 have to plead, that, for what I knew, my doubts would 
 vanish, if the newspapers would be so good as to give me 
 time and let me alone. Who would ever dream of making 
 the world his confidant ? yet I was considered insidious^ 
 
172 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 sly, dishonest, if I would not open my heart to the tender 
 mercies of the world. But they persisted : "What was I 
 doing at Littlemore ?" Doing there ! have I not retreated 
 from you ? have I not given up my position and my place? 
 am I alone, of Englishmen, not to have the privilege 
 to go where I will, no questions asked ? am I alone to 
 be followed about by jealous prying eyes, which take note 
 whether I go in at a back door or at the front, and who 
 the men are who happen to call on me in the afternoon ? 
 Cowards ! if I advanced one step, you would run away ; it 
 is not you that I fear : " Di me torrent, et Jupiter hostis." 
 It is because the Bishops still go on charging against 
 me, though I have quite given up : it is that secret mis- 
 giving of heart which tells me that they do well, for I 
 have neither lot nor part with them : this it is which 
 weighs me down. I cannot walk into or out of my house, 
 but curious eyes are upon me. Why will you not let me 
 die in peace ? Wounded brutes creep into some hole to 
 die in, and no one grudges it them. Let me alone, I shall 
 not trouble you long. This was the keen feeling which 
 pierced me, and, I think, these are the very words in 
 which I expressed it to myself. I asked, in the words of 
 a great motto, "Ubi lapsus ? quid feci?" One day when 
 I entered my house, I found a flight of Under- graduates 
 inside. Heads of Houses, as mounted patrols, walked 
 their horses round those poor cottages. Doctors of Di- 
 vinity dived into the hidden recesses of that private tene- 
 ment uninvited, and drew domestic conclusions from what 
 they saw there. I had thought that an Englishman's house 
 was his castle ; but the newspapers thought otherwise, and 
 at last the matter came before my good Bishop. I insert 
 his letter, and a portion of my reply to him : — 
 
 " April 12, 1842. So many of the charges against your- 
 self and your friends which I have seen in the pubhc 
 journals have been, within my own knowledge, false and 
 
FROM 1811 TO 1845. 173 
 
 calumnious, tliat I am not apt to pay much attention to 
 what is asserted with respect to you in the noAvspapers. 
 
 "In'' [a newspaper] ''however, of April 9, there 
 appears a paragraph in which it is asserted, as a matter 
 of notoriety, that a ' so-called Anglo-Catholic Monastery 
 is in process of erection at Littlemore, and that the cells of 
 dormitories, the chapel, the refectory, the cloisters all may 
 be seen advancing to perfection, under the eye of a Parish 
 Priest of the Diocese of Oxford.' 
 
 " Now, as I have understood that you really are possessed 
 of some tenements at Littlemore, — as it is generally be- 
 lieved that they are destined for the purposes of study and 
 devotion, — and as much suspicion and jealousy are felt 
 about the matter, I am anxious to afford you an oppor- 
 tunity of making me an explanation on the subject. 
 
 " I know you too well not to be aware that you are the 
 last man living to attempt in my Diocese a revival of the 
 Monastic orders (in any thing approaching to the Romanist 
 sense of the term) without previous communication with 
 me, — or indeed that you should take upon yourself to 
 originate any measure of importance without authority 
 from the heads of the Church, — and therefore I at once 
 exonerate you from the accusation brought against you by 
 the newspaper I have quoted, but I feel it nevertheless a 
 duty to my Diocese and myself, as well as to you, to ask 
 you to put it in my power to contradict what, if uncon- 
 tradicted, would appear to imply a glaring invasion of all 
 ecclesiastical discipline on your part, or of inexcusable 
 neglect and indifference to my duties on mine.** 
 
 I wrote in answer as follows : — 
 
 ''April 14, 1842. I am very much obliged by your 
 Lordship's kindness in allowing me to write to you on the 
 subject of my house at Littlemore ; at the same time I feel 
 it hard both on your Lordship and myself that the rest- 
 
174 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 lessness of the public mind should oblige you to require an 
 explanation of me. 
 
 " It is now a whole year that I have been the subject of 
 incessant misrepresentation. A year since I submitted 
 entirely to your Lordship's authorit}^; and, with the in- 
 tention of following out the particular act enjoined upon 
 me, I not only stopped the series of Tracts, on which I 
 was engaged, but withdrew from all public discussion of 
 Church matters of the day, or what may be called ecclesi- 
 astical politics. I turned myself at once to the prepara- 
 tion for the Press of the translations of St. Athanasius to 
 which I had long wished to devote myself, and I intended 
 and intend to employ myself in the like theological studies, 
 and in the concerns of my own parish and in practical 
 works. 
 
 " With the same view of personal improvement I was 
 led more seriously to a design which had been long on my 
 mind. For many years, at least thirteen, I have wished 
 to give myself to a life of greater religious regularity than 
 I have hitherto led ; but it is very unpleasant to confess 
 such a wish even to my Bishop, because it seems arrogant, 
 and because it is committing me to a profession which 
 may come to nothing. For what have I done that I am 
 to be called to account by the world for my private actions, 
 in a way in which no one else is called ? Why may I not 
 have that liberty which all others are allowed ? I am often 
 accused of being underhand and uncandid in respect to the 
 intentions to which I have been alluding ; but no one likes 
 his own good resolutions noised about, both from mere 
 common delicacy and from fear lest he should not be able 
 to fulfil them. I feel it very cruel, though the parties in 
 fault do not know what they are doing, that very sacred 
 matters between me and my conscience are made a matter 
 of public talk. May I take a case parallel though differ- 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 175 
 
 ent? suppose a person in prospect of marriage ; would he 
 like the subject discussed in newspapers, and parties, cir- 
 cumstances, &o., &c., publicly demanded of him, at the 
 penaltj^ of being accused of craft and duplicity ? 
 
 " The resolution I speak of has been taken with refer- 
 ence to myself alone, and has been contemplated quite 
 independent of the co-operation of any other human being, 
 and without reference to success or failure other than per- 
 sonal, and without regard to the blame or approbation of 
 man. And being a resolution of years, and one to which 
 I feel God has called me, and in which I am Tiolating no 
 rule of the Church any more than if I married, I should 
 have to answer for it, if I did not pursue it, as a good 
 Providence made openings for it. In pursuing it then I 
 am thinking of myself alone, not aiming at any ecclesiasti- 
 cal or external effects. At the same time of course it would 
 be a great comfort to me to know that God had put it into 
 the hearts of others to pursue their personal edification in 
 the same way, and unnatural not to wish to have the 
 benefit of their presence and encouragement, or not to 
 think it a great infringement on the rights of conscience 
 if such personal and private resolutions were interfered 
 with. Your Lordship will allow me to add my firm con- 
 viction that such religious resolutions are most necessary 
 for keeping a certain class of minds firm in their allegiance 
 to our Church ; but still I can as truly say that my own 
 reason for any thing I have done has been a personal one, 
 without which I should not have entered upon it, and 
 which I hope to pursue whether with or without the sym- 
 pathies of others pursuing a similar course 
 
 " As to my intentions, I purpose to live there myself a 
 good deal, as I have a resident curate in Oxford. In doing 
 this, I believe I am consulting for the good of my parish, 
 as my population at Littlemore is at least equal to that of 
 St. Mary's in Oxford, and the ivhole of Littlemore is double 
 
176 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 of it. It has been very mucli neglected ; and in providing 
 a parsonage-house at Littlemore, as this will be, and will 
 be called, I conceive I am doing a very great benefit to 
 my people. At the same time it has appeared to me that 
 a partial or temporary retirement from St. Mary's Church 
 might be expedient under the prevailing excitement. 
 
 "As to the quotation from the [newspaper], which I 
 have not seen, your Lordship will perceive from what I 
 have said, that no * monastery is in process of erection ; ' 
 there is no 'chapel;' no * refectory,' hardly a dining-room 
 or parlour. The * cloisters ' are my shed connecting the 
 cottages. I do not understand what ' cells of dormitories ' 
 means. Of course I can repeat your Lordship's words 
 that 'I am not attempting a revival of the Monastic 
 Orders, in any thing approaching to the Eomanist sense 
 of the term,' or ' taking on myself to originate any measure 
 of importance without authority from the Heads of the 
 Church.' I am attempting nothing ecclesiastical, but 
 something personal and private, and which can only be 
 made public, not private, by newspapers and letter- writers, 
 in which sense the most sacred and conscientious resolves 
 and acts may certainly be made the objects of an unman- 
 nerly and unfeeling curiosity." 
 
 One calumny there was which the Bishop did not be- 
 lieve, and of which of course he had no idea of speaking. 
 It was that I was actually in the service of the enemy. I 
 had forsooth been already received into the Catholic 
 Church, and was rearing at Littlemore a nest of Papists, 
 who, like me, were to take the Anglican oaths which they 
 disbelieved, by virtue of a dispensation from Rome, and 
 thus in due time were to bring over to that unprincipled 
 Church great numbers of the Anglican Clergy and Laity. 
 Bishops gave their countenance to this imputation against 
 me. The case was simply this : — as I made Littlemore a 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 177 
 
 place of retirement for myself, so did I offer it to others. 
 There were young men in Oxford, whose testimonials for 
 Orders had been refused by their Colleges ; there were 
 young clergymen, who had found themselves unable from 
 conscience to go on with their duties, and had thrown up 
 their parochial engagements. Such men were already 
 going straight to Rome, and I interposed ; I interposed 
 for the reasons I have given in the beginning of this por- 
 tion of my narrative. I interposed from fidelity to my 
 clerical engagements, and from duty to my Bishop ; and 
 from the interest which I was bound to take in them, and 
 from belief that they were premature or excited. Their 
 friends besought me to quiet them, if I could. Some of 
 them came to live with me at Littlemore. They were lay- 
 men, or in the place of laymen. I kept some of them 
 back for several years from being received into the Catho- 
 lic Church. Even when I had given up my living, I was 
 still bound by my duty to their parents or friends, and I 
 did not forget still to do what I could for them. The 
 immediate occasion of my resigning St. Mary's, was the 
 unexpected conversion of one of them. After that, I felt 
 it was impossible to keep my post there, for I had been 
 unable to keep my word with my Bishop. 
 
 The following letters refer, more or less, to these men, 
 whether they were actually with me at Littlemore or 
 not: — 
 
 1. "March 6, 1842. Church doctrines are a powerful 
 weapon ; they were not sent into the world for nothing. 
 God's word does not return unto Him void : If I have 
 said, as I have, that the doctrines of the Tracts for the 
 Times would build up our Church and destroy parties, I 
 meant, if they were used, not if they were denounced. 
 Else, they will be as powerful against us, as they might 
 be powerful for us. 
 
 *' If people who have a liking for another, hear him 
 
178 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 called a Eoman Catholic, they will say, *Then after all 
 Eomanism is no such bad thing/ All these persons, who 
 are making the cry, are fulfilling their own prophecy. 
 If all the world agree in telling a man, he has no business 
 in our Church, he will at length begin to think he has 
 none. How easy is it to persuade a man of any thing, 
 when numbers affirm it ! so great is the force of imagina- 
 tion. Did every one who met you in the streets look hard 
 at you, you would think you were somehow in fault. I do 
 not know any thing so irritating, so unsettling, especially 
 in the case of young persons, as, when they are going on 
 calmly and unconsciously, obeying their Church and fol- 
 lowing its divines, (I am speaking from facts,) as sud- 
 denly to their surprise to be conjured not to make a leap, 
 of which they have not a dream and from which they are 
 far removed." 
 
 2. 1843 or 1844. " I did not explain to you sufficiently 
 the state of mind of those who were in danger. I only 
 spoke of those who were convinced that our Church was 
 external to the Church Catholic, though they felt it unsafe 
 to trust their own private convictions ; but there are two 
 other states of mind; 1. that of those who are uncon- 
 sciously near Home, and whose despair about our Church 
 would at once develope into a state of conscious approxi- 
 mation, or a </z^6?si- resolution to go over ; 2. those who feel 
 they can with a safe conscience remain with us 2i'Jiile they 
 are allowed to testiftj in behalf of Catholicism, i. e. as if by 
 such acts they were putting our Church, or at least that 
 portion of it in which they were included, in the position 
 of catechumens." 
 
 3. *' June 20, 1843. I return the very pleasing letter 
 you have permitted me to read. What a sad thing it is, 
 that it should be a plain duty to restrain one's sympathies, 
 and to keep them from boiling over ; but I suppose it is a 
 matter of common prudence. 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 179 
 
 " Tilings are very serious here ; but I should not like 
 Tou to say so, as it might do no good. The Authorities 
 find, that, by the Statutes, they have more than militar}^ 
 power ; and the general impression seems to be, that they 
 intend to exert it, and put down Catholicism at any risk. 
 I believe that by the Statutes, they can pretty nearly sus- 
 pend a Preacher, as seditiosus or causing dissension, without 
 assigning their grounds in the particular case, nay, banish 
 him, or imprison him. If so, all holders of preferment in 
 the University should make as quiet an exit as they can. 
 There is more exasperation on both sides at this moment, 
 as I am told, than ever there was." 
 
 4. ** July 16, 1843. I assure you that I feel, with only 
 too much sympathy, what you say. You need not be told 
 that the whole subject of our position is a subject of 
 anxiety to others beside yourself. It is no good attempt- 
 ing to offer advice, when perhaps I might raise difficulties 
 instead of removing them. It seems to me quite a case, 
 in which you should, as far as may be, make up your mind 
 for yourself. Come to Littlemore by all means. We shall 
 all rejoice in your company ; and, if quiet and retirement 
 are able, as they very likely will be, to reconcile you to 
 things as they are, you shall have your fill of them. How 
 distressed poor Henry Wilberforce must be ! Knowing 
 how he values you, I feel for him ; but, alas ! he has his 
 own position, and every one else has his own, and the 
 misery is that no two of us have exactly the same. 
 
 " It is very kind of you to be so frank and open with 
 me, as you are ; but this is a time which throws together 
 persons who feel alike. May I without taking a liberty 
 sign myself, yours affectionately, &c." 
 
 5. "August 30, 1843. A. B. has suddenly conformed 
 to the Church of Home. He was away for three weeks. 
 I suppose I must say in my defence, that he promised me 
 
180 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 distinctly to remain in our Churcli three years, before I 
 received him here." 
 
 6. " June 17, 1845. I am concerned to find you speak 
 of me in a tone of distrust. If you knew me ever so little, 
 instead of hearing of me from persons who do not laiow me 
 at all, you would think differently of me, whatever you 
 thought of my opinions. Two years since, I got your son to 
 tell vou my intention of resigning St. Mary's, before I made 
 it public, thinking you ought to know it. When you ex- 
 pressed some painful feeling upon it, I told him I could not 
 consent to his remaining here, painful as it would be to 
 me to part with him, without your written sanction. And 
 this you did me the favour to give. 
 
 *' I believe you will find that it has been merely a deli- 
 cacy on your son's part, which has delayed his speaking to 
 you about me for two months past ; a delicacy, lest he 
 should say either too much or too little about me. I have 
 urged him several times to speak to you. 
 
 " Nothing can be done after your letter, but to recom- 
 mend him to go to A. B. (his home) at once. I am very 
 sorry to part with him." 
 
 7. The following letter is addressed to Cardinal Wise- 
 man, then Yicar Apostolic, who accused me of coldness in 
 my conduct towards him : — 
 
 "April 16, 1845. I was at that time in charge of a 
 ministerial office in the English Church, with persons 
 entrusted to me, and a Bishop to obey ; how could I pos- 
 sibly write otherwise than I did without violating sacred 
 obligations and betraying momentous interests which were 
 upon me ? I felt that my immediate, undeniable duty, 
 clear if any thing was clear, was to fulfil that trust. It 
 might be right indeed to give it up, that was another 
 thing ; but it never could be right to hold it, and to act 
 as if I did not hold it If you knew me, you 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1815. 181 
 
 would acquit me, I think, of having ever felt towards your 
 Lordship in an unfriendly spirit, or ever having had a 
 shadow on my mind (as far as I dare witness about myself) 
 of what might be called controversial rivalry or desire of 
 getting the better, or fear lest the world should think I 
 had got the worse, or irritation of any kind. You are too 
 kind indeed to imply this, and yet your words lead me to 
 say it. And now in like manner, pray believe, though I 
 cannot explain it to you, that I am encompassed with 
 responsibilities, so great and so various, as utterly to over- 
 come me, unless I have mercy from Him, who all through 
 my life has sustained and guided me, and to whom I can 
 now submit myself, though men of all parties are thinking 
 evil of me.'* 
 
 Such fidelity, however, was taken in malam partem by 
 the high Anglican authorities ; they thought it insidious. 
 I happen still to have a correspondence which took place 
 in 1843, in which the chief place is filled by one of 
 the most eminent Bishops of the day, a theologian and 
 reader of the Fathers, a moderate man, who at one time was 
 talked of as likely on a vacancy to succeed to the Primacy. 
 A young clergyman in his diocese became a Catholic ; the 
 papers at once reported on authority from " a very high 
 quarter," that, after his reception, '' the Oxford men had 
 been recommending him to retain his living." I had 
 reasons for thinking that the allusion was made to me, and 
 I authorized the Editor of a Paper, who had inquired of me 
 on the point, to " give it, as far as I was concerned, an 
 unqualified contradiction ;" — when from a motive of deli- 
 cacy he hesitated, I added " my direct and indignant con- 
 tradiction." " Whoever is the author of it," I continued 
 to the Editor, " no correspondence or intercourse of any 
 kind, direct or indirect, has passed between Mr. S. and 
 myself, since his conforming to the Church of Eome, 
 
182 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 except my formally and merely acknowledging the receipt 
 of his letter, in which he informed me of the fact, without, 
 as far as I recollect, my expressing any opinion upon it. 
 You may state this as broadly as I have set it down." My 
 denial was told to the Bishop ; what took place upon it is 
 given in a letter from which I copy. " My father showed 
 the letter to the Bishop, who, as he laid it down, said, 
 ' Ah, those Oxford men are not ingenuous.' * How do you 
 mean ?' asked my father. ' Why,' said the Bishop, ' they 
 advised Mr. B. S. to retain his living after he turned 
 Catholic. I know that to be a fact, because A. B. told me 
 so.'" "The Bishop," continues the letter, "who is per- 
 haps the most influential man in reality on the bench, 
 evidently believes it to be the truth." Upon this Dr. 
 Pusey wrote in my behalf to the Bishop ; and the Bishop 
 instantly beat a retreat. " I have the honour," he says in 
 the autograph which I transcribe, " to acknowledge the 
 receipt of your note, and to say in reply that it has not 
 been stated by me, (though such a statement has, I believe, 
 appeared in some of the Public Prints,) that Mr. Newman 
 had advised Mr. B. S. to retain his living, after he had 
 forsaken our Church. But it has been stated to me, that 
 Mr. Newman was in close correspondence with Mr. B. S., 
 and, being fully aware of his state of opinions and feelings, 
 yet advised him to continue in our communion. Allow 
 me to add," he says to Dr. Pusey, " that neither your 
 name, nor that of Mr. Keble, was mentioned to me in con- 
 nexion with that of Mr. B. S." 
 
 I was not going to let the Bishop off on this evasion, so 
 I wrote to him myself. After quoting his Letter to Dr. 
 Pusey, I continued, " I beg to trouble your Lordship with 
 my own account of the two allegations" \_ciose correspond- 
 ence and fullf/ awore, &c.] "which are contained in your 
 statement, and which have led to your speaking of me in 
 terms which I hope never to deserve. 1. Since Mr. B. S. 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 183 
 
 has been in your Lordship's diocese, I have seen him in 
 Common rooms or private parties in Oxford two or three 
 times, when I never (as far as I can recollect) had any 
 conversation with him. During the same time I have, to 
 the best of my memory, written to him three letters. One 
 was lately, in acknowledgment of his informing me of his 
 change of religion. Another was last summer, when I 
 asked him (to no purpose) to come and stay with me in 
 this place. The earliest of the three letters was written 
 just a year since, as far as I recollect, and it certainly was 
 on the subject of his joining the Church of Rome. I wrote 
 this letter at the earnest wish of a friend of his. I cannot 
 be sure that, on his replying, I did not send him a brief 
 note in explanation of points in mj^ letter which he had 
 misapprehended. I cannot recollect any other correspond- 
 ence between us. 
 
 *' 2. As to my knowledge of his Ojoinions and feelings, 
 as far as I remember, the only point of perplexity which I 
 knew, the only point which to this hour I know, as press- 
 ing upon him, was that of the Pope's supremacy. He pro- 
 fessed to be searching Antiquity whether the see of Rome 
 had formerly that relation to the whole Church which 
 Roman Catholics now assign to it. My letter was directed 
 to the point, that it was his duty not to perplex himself 
 with arguments on [such] a question, . . . and to put it 
 altogether aside. . . . It is hard that I am put ujDon my 
 memory, without knowing the details of the statement 
 made against me, considering the various correspondence 
 in which I am from time to time unavoidably engaged. . . 
 Be assured, my Lord, that there are very definite limits, 
 beyond which persons like me would never urge another 
 to retain preferment in the English Church, nor would 
 retain it themselves ; and that the censure which has been 
 directed against them by so many of its Rulers has a very 
 grave bearing upon those limits.'' The Bishop replied in 
 
184 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 a civil letter, and sent my own letter to his original in- 
 formant, who wrote to me the letter of a gentleman. It 
 seems that an anxious lady had said something or other 
 ■which had been misinterpreted, against her real meaning, 
 into the calumny which was circulated, and so the report 
 vanished into thin air. I closed the correspondence with 
 the following Letter to the Bishop : — 
 
 "I hope your Lordship will believe me w^hen I say, that 
 statements about me, equally incorrect with that which 
 has come to your Lordship's ears, are from time to time 
 reported to me as credited and repeated by the highest 
 authorities in our Church, though it is very seldom that I 
 have the opportunity of denying them. I am obliged by 
 your Lordship's letter to Dr. Pusey as giving me such an 
 opportunity." Then I added, with a purpose, *'Your 
 Lordship will observe that in my Letter I had no occasion 
 to proceed to the question, whether a person holding 
 Roman Catholic opinions can in honesty remain in our 
 Church. Lest then any misconception should arise from 
 my silence, I here take the liberty of adding, that I see 
 nothing wrong in such a person's continuing in commu- 
 nion with us, provided he holds no preferment or office, 
 abstains from the management of ecclesiastical matters, 
 and is bound by no subscription or oath to our doctrines." 
 
 This was written on March 8, 18 13, and was in antici- 
 pation of my own retirement into lay communion. This 
 again leads me to a remark :— for two years I was in lay 
 communion, not indeed being a Catholic in my convictions, 
 but in a state of serious doubt, and with the probable pro- 
 spect of becoming some day, what as yet I was not. Under 
 these circumstances I thought the best thing I could do 
 was to give up duty and to throw myself into lay commu- 
 nion, remaining an Anglican. I could not go to Rome, 
 while I thought what I did of the devotions she sanctioned 
 to the Blessed Virgin and the Saints. I did not give up 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 185 
 
 my fellowship, for I could not be sure tliat my doubts 
 would not be reduced or overcome, however unlikely I 
 might consider such an event. But I gave up my living ; 
 and, for two years before my conversion, I took no clerical 
 duty. My last Sermon was in September, 1843 ; then I 
 remained at Littlemore in quiet for two years. But it was 
 made a subject of reproach to me at the time, and is at 
 this day, that I did not leave the Anglican Church sooner. 
 To me this seems a wonderful charge ; why, even had I 
 been quite sure that Rome was the true Church, the 
 Anglican Bishops would have had no just subject of com- 
 plaint against me, provided I took no Anglican oath, no 
 clerical duty, no ecclesiastical administration. Do they 
 force all men who go to their Churches to believe in the 
 39 Articles, or to join in the Athanasian Creed? How- 
 ever, I was to have other measure dealt to me ; great 
 authorities ruled it so ; and a learned controversialist in 
 the North thought it a shame that I did not leave the 
 Church of England as much as ten years sooner than I 
 did. He said this in print between the years 1847 and 
 1849. His nephew, an Anglican clergyman, kindly 
 wished to undeceive him on this point. So, in the latter 
 year, after some correspondence, I wrote the following 
 letter, which will be of service to this narrative, from its 
 chronological notes : — 
 
 "Dec. 6, 1849. Your uncle says, 'If he (Mr. N.) wiU 
 declare, sans phrase, as the French say, that I have 
 laboured under an entire mistake, and that he was not a 
 concealed Romanist during the ten j^ears in question,' (I 
 suppose, the last ten years of my membership with the 
 Anglican Church,) * or during any part of the time, my 
 controversial antipathy will be at an end, and I will 
 readily express to him that I am truly sorry that I have 
 made such a mistake.' 
 
 '' So candid an avowal is what I should have expected 
 
186 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 from a mind like your uncle's. I am extremely glad he 
 has brought it to this issue. 
 
 " By a ^ concealed Romanist' I understand him to mean 
 one, who, professing to belong to the Church of England, 
 in his heart and will intends to benefit the Church of 
 Eome, at the expense of the Church of England. He 
 cannot mean by the expression merely a person who 
 in fact is benefiting the Church of Eome, while he is in- 
 tending to benefit the Church of England, for that is no 
 discredit to him morally, and he (your uncle) evidently 
 means to impute blame. 
 
 " In the sense in which I have explained the words, I 
 can simply and honestly say that I was not a concealed 
 Homanist during the whoKi, or any part of, the years in 
 question. 
 
 " For the first four years of the ten, (up to Michaelmas, 
 1839,) I honestly wished to benefit the Church of England, 
 at the expense of the Church of Eome : 
 
 ^'For the second four years I wished to benefit the 
 Church of England without prejudice to the Church of 
 E-ome : 
 
 "At the beginning of the ninth year (Michaelmas, 
 1843) I began to despair of the Church of England, and 
 gave up all clerical duty ; and then, what I wrote and did 
 ;^as influenced by a mere wish not to injure it, and not by 
 the wish to benefit it : 
 
 "At the beginning of the tenth year I distinctly con- 
 templated leaving it, but I also distinctly told my friends 
 that it was in my contemplation. 
 
 " Lastly, during the last half of that tenth year I was 
 engaged in writing a book (Essay on Development) in 
 favour of the Eoman Church, and indirectly against the 
 English; but even then, till it was finished, I had not 
 absolutely intended to publish it, wishing to reserve to 
 myself the chance of changing my mind when the argu- 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 187 
 
 mentative views which were actuating me had been dis- 
 tinctly brought out before me in writing. 
 
 " I wish this statement, which I make from memory, 
 and without consulting any document, severely tested by 
 my writings and doings, as I am confident it will, on the 
 whole, be borne out, whatever real or apparent exceptions 
 (I suspect none) have to be allowed by me in detail. 
 
 " Your uncle is at liberty to make what use he pleases 
 of this explanation.'* 
 
 I have now reached an important date in my narrative, 
 the year 1843 ; but before proceeding to the matters which 
 it contains, I will insert portions of ray letters from 1841 
 to 1843, addressed to Catholic acquaintances. 
 
 1. ''April 8, 1841. ... The unity of the Church 
 Catholic is very near my heart, only I do not see any 
 prospect of it in our time; and I despair of its being 
 effected without great sacrifices on all hands. As to 
 resisting the Bishop's will, I observe that no point of 
 doctrine or principle was in dispute, but a course of action, 
 the publication of certain works. I do not think you 
 sufficiently understood our position. I suppose you would 
 obey the Holy See in such a case ; now, when we were 
 separated from the Pope, his authority reverted to our 
 Diocesans. Our Bishop is our Pope. It is our theory, 
 that each diocese is an integral Church, intercommunion 
 being a duty, (and the breach of it a sin,) but not essential 
 to Catholicity. To have resisted my Bishop, would have 
 been to place myself in an utterly false position, which I 
 never could have recovered. Depend upon it, the strength 
 of any party lies in its being true to its theory. Con- 
 sistency is the life of a movement. 
 
 " I have no misgivings whatever that the line I have 
 taken can be other than a prosperous one : that is, in itself, 
 
188 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 for of course Providence may refuse to us its legitimate 
 issues for our sins. 
 
 " I am afraid, that in one respect yovi may be disap- 
 pointed. It is my trust, though I must not be too san- 
 guine, that we shall not have individual members of our 
 communion going over to yours. What one's duty would 
 be under other circumstances, what our duty ten or twenty 
 years ago, I cannot say ; but I do think that there is less 
 of private judgment in going with one's Church, than in 
 leaving it. I can earnestly desire a union between my 
 Church and yours. I cannot listen to the thought of your 
 being joined by individuals among us." 
 
 2. ''April 26, 1841. My only anxiety is lest your 
 branch of the Church should not meet us by those reforms 
 which surely are necessary. It never could be, that so 
 large a portion of Christendom should have split off from 
 the communion of Rome, and kept up a protest for 300 
 years for nothing. I think I never shall believe that so 
 much piety and earnestness would be found among Pro- 
 testants, if there were not some very grave errors on the 
 side of Pome. To suppose the contrary is most unreal, 
 and violates all one's notions of moral probabilities. All 
 aberrations are founded on, and have their life in, some 
 truth or other— and Protestantism, so widely spread and 
 so long enduring, must have in it, and must be witness 
 for, a great truth or much truth. That I am an advocate 
 for Protestantism, you cannot suppose ; — but I am forced 
 into a Via Media, short of Rome, as it is at present." 
 
 3. "May 5, 1841. While I most sincerely hold that 
 there is in the Roman Church a traditionary system which 
 is not necessarily connected with her essential formularies, 
 yet, were I ever so much to change my mind on this point, 
 this would not tend to bring me from my present position, 
 providentially appointed in the English Church. That 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 189 
 
 your coTnTnunion was unassailable, would not prove that 
 mine was indefensible. Nor would it at all affect the 
 sense in which I receive our Articles ; they would still 
 speak against certain definite errors, though you had 
 reformed them. 
 
 " I say this lest any lurking suspicion should be left in 
 the mind of your friends that persons who think with me 
 are likely, by the growth of their present views, to find it 
 imperative on them to pass over to 3^our communion. 
 Allow me to state strongly, that if you have any such 
 thoughts, and proceed to act upon them, your friends will 
 be committing a fatal mistake. We have (I trust) the 
 principle and temper of obedience too intimately wrought 
 into us to allow of our separating ourselves from our eccle- 
 siastical superiors because in many points we may sympa- 
 thize with others. We have too great a horror of the 
 principle of private judgment to trust it in so immense 
 a matter as that of changing from one communion to 
 another. We may be cast out of our communion, or it 
 may decree heresy to be truth, — you shall say whether 
 such contingencies are likely ; but I do not see other con- 
 ceivable causes of our leaving the Church in which we 
 were baptized. 
 
 "For myself, persons must be well acquainted with 
 what I have written before they venture to say whether 
 I have much changed my main opinions and cardinal 
 views in the course of the last eight years. That my 
 sympathies have grown towards the religion of Eome I do 
 not deny ; that my reasons for shunning her communion 
 have lessened or altered it would be difficult perhaps to 
 prove. And I wish to go by reason, not by feeling." 
 
 4. "June 18, 1841. You urge persons whose views 
 agree with mine to commence a movement in behalf of a 
 union between the Churches. jN'ow in the letters I have 
 written, I have uniformly said that I did not expect that 
 union in our time, and have discouraged the notion of all 
 
190 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS ORINIOXS 
 
 sudden proceedings with a view to it. I must ask your 
 leave to repeat on this occasion most distinctlj^ that I 
 cannot be party to any agitation, but mean to remain 
 quiet in my own place, and to do all I can to make others 
 take the same course. This I conceive to be my simple 
 duty ; but, over and above this, I will not set my teeth on 
 edge with sour grapes. I know it is quite within the 
 range of possibilities that one or another of our people 
 should go over to jouy communion ; however, it would be 
 a greater misfortune to you than grief to us. If your 
 friends wish to put a gulf between themselves and us, let 
 them make converts, but not else. Some months ago, I 
 ventured to say that I felt it a painful duty to. keep aloof 
 from all Roman Catholics who came with the intention of 
 opening negotiations for the union of the Churches : when 
 you now urge us to petition our Bishops for a union, this, 
 I conceive, is very like an act of negotiation." 
 
 5. I have the first sketch or draft of a letter, which 
 I wrote to a zealous Catholic layman : it runs as follows, 
 as far as I have preserved it, but I think there were 
 various changes and additions: — "September 12, 1841. 
 It would rejoice all Catholic minds among us, more 
 than words can say, if you could persuade members of the 
 Church of Rome to take the line in politics which you so 
 earnestly advocate. Suspicion and distrust are the main 
 causes at present of the separation between us, and the 
 nearest approaches in doctrine will but increase the hos- 
 tility, which, alas, our people feel towards yours, while 
 these causes continue. Depend upon it, you must not 
 rely upon our Catholic tendencies till they are removed. 
 I am not speaking of myself, or of any friends of mine ; 
 but of our Church generally. Whatever our personal 
 feelings may be, we shall but tend to raise and spread a 
 rival Church to yours in the four quarters of the world, 
 unless 1/ou do what none but you can do. Sympathies, 
 which would flow over to the Church of Borne, as a matter 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 191 
 
 of course, did she admit them, will but be developed in the 
 consolidation of our own system, if she continues to be the 
 object of our suspicions and fears. I wish, of course I do, 
 that our own Church may be built up and extended, but 
 still, not at the cost of the Church of Rome, not in oppo- 
 sition to it. I am sure, that, while you suffer, we suffer 
 too from the separation ; hut ive cannot remove the obstacles; 
 it is with you to do so. You do not fear us ; we fear you. 
 Till we cease to fear you, we cannot love you. 
 
 ^' While you are in your present position, the friends of 
 Catholic unity in our Church are but fulfilling the pre- 
 diction of those of j^our body who are averse to them, viz. 
 that they will be merely strengthening a rival communion 
 to yours. Many of you say that 7ce are your greatest 
 enemies ; we have said so ourselves : so we are, so we shall 
 be, as things stand at present. We are keeping people 
 from you, by supplying their wants in our own Church. 
 We are keeping persons from you : do you wish us to keep 
 them from you for a time or for ever ? It rests with you 
 to determine. I do not fear that you will succeed among 
 us ; you will not supplant our Church in the affections of 
 the English nation ; only through the English Church can 
 you act upon the English nation. I wish of course our 
 Church should be consolidated, with and through and in 
 your communion, for its sake, and your sake, and for the 
 sake of unity. 
 
 ''Are you aware that the more serious thinkers among 
 us are used, as far as they dare form an opinion, to regard 
 the spirit of Liberalism as the characteristic of the destined 
 Antichrist ? In vain does any one clear the Church of 
 Bome from the badges of Antichrist, in which Protestants 
 would invest her, if she deliberately takes up her position 
 in the very quarter, whither we have cast them, when we 
 took them off from her. Antichrist is described as the 
 aVo/uo9, as exalting himself above the yoke of religion and 
 
192 HISTORY OF MY RELIGTOrS OPINIONS 
 
 law. The spirit of lawlessness came in with the Eeforma- 
 tion, and Liberalism is its offspring. 
 
 *'And now I fear I am going to pain you by telling 
 you, that you consider the approaches in doctrine on our 
 part towards you, closer than they really are. I cannot 
 help repeating what I have many times said in print, that 
 your services and devotions to St. Mary in matter of fact 
 do most deeply pain me. I am only stating it as a fact. 
 
 " Again, I have nowhere said that I can accept the de- 
 crees of Trent throughout, nor implied it. The doctrine of 
 Tran substantiation is a great difficulty with me, as being, 
 as I think, not primitive. Nor have I said that our Arti- 
 cles in all respects admit of a Roman interpretation ; the 
 very word ' Transubstantiation ' is disowned in them. 
 
 " Thus, you see, it is not merely on grounds of expedi- 
 ence that we do not join you. There are positive difficul- 
 ties in the way of it. And, even if there were not, we 
 shall have no divine warrant for doing so, while we think 
 that the Church of England is a branch of the true 
 Church, and that intercommunion with the rest of Chris- 
 tendom is necessary, not for the life of a particular 
 Church, but for its health only. I have never disguised 
 that there are actual circumstances in the Church of 
 Rome, which pain me much ; of the removal of these I 
 see no chance, while we join you one by one ; but if our 
 Church were prepared for a union, she might make her 
 terms ; she might gain the cup ; she might protest against 
 the extreme honours paid to St. Mary ; she might make 
 some explanation of the doctrine of Transubstantiation. 
 I am not prepared to say that a reform in other branches 
 of the Roman Church would be necessary for our uniting 
 with them, however desirable in itself, so that we were 
 allowed to make a reform in our own country. We do 
 not look towards Rome as believing that its communion is 
 infallible, but that union is a dutv." 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 193 
 
 6. The following letter was occasioned bj^ the present 
 made to me of a book by the friend to whom it is written ; 
 more will be said on the subject of it presently : — 
 
 ''Nov. 22, 1842. I only wish that your Church w^ere 
 more known among us by such writings. You will not 
 interest us in her, till we see her, not in politics, but in 
 her true functions of exhorting, teaching, and guiding. 
 I wish there were a chance of making the leading men 
 among you understand, what I believe is no novel thought 
 to yourself. It is not by learned discussions, or acute 
 arguments, or reports of miracles, that the heart of Eng- 
 land can be gained. It is by men ' approving themselves,' 
 like the Apostle, ' ministers of Christ.' 
 
 "As to your question, whether the Volume you have 
 sent is not calculated to remove my apprehensions that 
 another gospel is substituted for the true one in jouv 
 practical instructions, before I can answer it in any waj^ 
 I ought to know how far the Sermons which it comprises 
 are selected from a number, or whether they are the whole, 
 or such as the whole, which have been published of the 
 author's. I assure you, or at least I trust, that, if it is 
 ever clearly brought home to me that I have been wrong 
 in what I have said on this subject, my public avowal of 
 that conviction will only be a question of time with me. 
 
 "If, however, you saw our Church as we see it, you 
 would easily understand that such a change of feeling, did 
 it take place, would have no necessary tendency, which 
 you seem to expect, to draw a person from the Church of 
 England to that of Rome. There is a divine life among 
 us, clearly manifested, in spite of all our disorders, which 
 is as great a note of the Church, as any can be. Why 
 should we seek our Lord's presence elsewhere, when He 
 vouchsafes it to us where we are ? What call have w^e to 
 change our communion ? 
 
 " Roman Catholics will find this to be the state of things 
 
194 IIISTOHY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 in time to come, whatever promise tliey may fancy there 
 is of a large secession to their Church. This man or that 
 may leave us, but there will be no general movement. 
 There is, indeed, an incipient movement of our Church 
 towards yours, and this your leading men are doing all 
 they can to frustrate by their unwearied eflforts at all risks 
 to carry off individuals. When will they know their posi- 
 tion, and embrace a larger and wiser policy ?" 
 
 §2. 
 
 The letter which I have last inserted, is addressed to my 
 dear friend. Dr. Eussell, the present President of May- 
 nooth. He had, perhaps, more to do with my conversion 
 than any one else. He called upon me, in passing through 
 Oxford in the summer of 1841, and I think I took him 
 over some of the buildings of the University. He called 
 again another summer, on his way from Dublin to London. 
 I do not recollect that he said a word on the subject of 
 religion on either occasion. He sent me at different times 
 several letters ; he was always gentle, mild, unobtrusive, 
 uncontroversial. He let me alone. He also gave me 
 one or two books. Yeron's Eule of Faith and some 
 Treatises of the Wallenburghs was one ; a volume of 
 St. Alfonso Liguori's Sermons was another ; and it is 
 to those Sermons that my letter to Dr. Eussell relates. 
 
 Now it must be observed that the writings of St. Alfonso, 
 as I knew them by the extracts commonly made from 
 them, prejudiced me as much against the Roman Church 
 as any thing else, on account of what was called their 
 "Mariolatry ;" but there was nothing of the kind in this 
 book, I wrote to ask Dr. EusscU whether any thing had 
 
TROM 1841 TO 1845. 195 
 
 been left out in the translation ; he answered that there 
 certainly were omissions in one Sermon about the Blessed 
 Virgin. This omission, in the case of a book intended for 
 Catholics, at least showed that such passages as are found 
 in the works of Italian Authors were not acceptable to 
 every part of the Catholic world. Such devotional mani- 
 festations in honour of our Lady had been my great cru.v 
 as regards Catholicism ; I say frankly, I do not fully enter 
 into them now ; I trust I do not love her the less, because 
 I cannot enter into them. They may be full;- explained 
 and defended ; but sentiment and taste do not run with 
 logic : they are suitable for Italy, but they are not suitable 
 for England. But, over and above England, my own case 
 was special ; from a boy I had been led to consider that 
 my Maker and I, His creature, were the two beings, 
 luminously such, in renun ncdurci. I will not here specu- 
 late, however, about my own feelings. Only this I know 
 full well now, and did not know then, that the Catholic 
 Church allows no image of any sort, material or imma- 
 terial, no dogmatic symbol, no rite, no sacrament, no 
 Saint, not even the Blessed Virgin herself, to come be- 
 tween the sold and its Creator. It is fpce to face, " solus 
 cum solo," in all matters between man and his God. He 
 alone creates ; He alone has redeemed ; before His awful 
 eyes we go in death ; in the vision of Him is our eternal 
 beatitude. 
 
 1. Solus cum solo : — I recollect hut indistinctly what I 
 gained from the Volume of which I have been speaking ; 
 but it must have been something considerable. At least I 
 had got a key to a difficulty ; in these Sermons, (or ratlier 
 heads of sermons, as they seem to be, taken down by a 
 hearer,) there is much of what would be called legendary 
 illustration ; but the substance of them is plain, practical, 
 awful preaching upon the great truths of salvation. What 
 I can speak of with greater confidence is the effect produced 
 
196 HISTORY OF MY KELIGIOUS OPINIOXS 
 
 on me a little later by studying the Exercises of St. Igna- 
 tius. For here again, in a matter consisting in the purest 
 and most direct acts of religion, — in the intercourse be- 
 tween God and the soul, during a season of recollection, of 
 repentance, of good resolution, of inquiry into vocation, — 
 the soul was "sola cum solo;" there was no cloud inter- 
 posed between the creature and the Object of his faith and 
 love. The command practically enforced was, ''My son, 
 give Me thy heart." The devotions then to Angels and 
 Saints as little interfered with the incommunicable glory of 
 the Eternal, as the love which we bear our friends and re- 
 lations, our tender human sympathies, are inconsistent with 
 that supreme homage of the heart to the Unseen, which 
 really does but sanctify and exalt, not jealously destroy, 
 what is of earth. At a later date Dr. Russell sent me a 
 large bundle of penny or half-penny books of devotion, of 
 all sorts, as they are found in the booksellers' shops at 
 Rome ; and, on looking them over, I was quite astonished 
 to find how different they were from what I had fancied, 
 how little there was in them to which I could really object. 
 I have given an account of them in my Essay on the De- 
 velopment of Doctrine. Dr. Russell sent me St. Alfonso's 
 book at the end of 1842 ; however, it was still a long time 
 before I got over my difficulty, on the score of the devo- 
 tions paid to the Saints; perhaps, as I judge from a letter 
 I have turned up, it was some way into 1844 before I 
 could be said fully to have got over it. 
 
 2. I am not sure that I did not also at this time feel the 
 force of another consideration. The idea of the Blessed 
 Virgin was as it were magnified in the Church of Rome, as 
 time went on, — but so were all the Christian ideas ; as 
 that of the Blessed Eucharist. The whole scene of pale, 
 faint, distant Apostolic Christianity is seen in Rome, as 
 through a telescope or magnifier. The harmony of the 
 whole, however, is of course what it was. It is unfair 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 197 
 
 then to take one Eoman idea, that of the Blessed Virgin, 
 out of what may be called its context. 
 
 3. Thus I am brought to the principle of development 
 of doctrine in the Christian Church, to which I gave my 
 mind at the end of 1842. I had made mention of it in 
 the passage, which I quoted many pages back (vide p. Ill), 
 in ''Home Thoughts Abroad," published in 1836; and even 
 at an earlier date I had introduced it into my History 
 of the Arians in 1832 ; nor had I ever lost sight of it in 
 my speculations. And it is certainly recognized in the 
 Treatise of Vincent of Lerins, which has so often been 
 taken as the basis of Anglicanism. In 1843 I began to 
 consider it attentively ; I made it the subject of my last 
 University Sermon on February 2 ; and the general view 
 to which I came is stated thus in a letter to a friend of the 
 date of July 14, 1844 ; — it will be observed that, now as 
 before, my issue is still Creed versus Church : — 
 
 " The kind of considerations which weighs with me are 
 such as the following : — 1. I am far more certain (accord- 
 ing to the Fathers) that we are in a state of culpable 
 separation, than that developments do not exist under 
 the Gospel, and that the Roman developments are not the 
 true ones. 2. I am far more certain, that our (modern) 
 doctrines are wrong, t/uni that the Ro7nan (modern) doc- 
 trines are wrong. 3. Granting that the Roman (special) 
 doctrines are not found drawn out in the early Church, 
 yet I think there is sufficient trace of them in it, to recom- 
 mend and prove them, on the hypothesis of the Church 
 having a divine guidance, though not sufficient to prove 
 them by itself. So that the question simply turns on the 
 nature of the promise of the Spirit, made t'o the Church. 
 4. The proof of the Roman (modern) doctrine is as strong 
 (or stronger) in Antiquity, as that of certain doctrines 
 which both we and Romans hold : e. g. there is more of 
 evidence in Antiquity for the necessity of Unity, than for 
 
198 IIISTOUY OF jMY RELlGlOrS OFI^TIOXS 
 
 the Apostolical Succession ; for the Supremacy of the See 
 of Ptome, than for the Presence in the Eucharist ; for the 
 practice of Invocation, than for certain books in the pre- 
 sent Canon of Scripture, &c. &c. 5. The analogy of the 
 Old Testament, and also of the New, leads to the acknow- 
 ledgment of doctrinal developments." 
 
 4, And thus I was led on to a further consideration. 
 I saw that the principle of development not only accounted 
 for certain facts, but was in itself a remarkable philoso- 
 phical phenomenon, giving a character to the whole course 
 of Christian thought. It was discernible from the first 
 years of the Catholic teaching up to the present day, and 
 gave to that teaching a unity and individuality. It served 
 as a sort of test, which the Anglican could not exhibit, 
 that modern Pome was in truth ancient Antioch, Alex- 
 andria, and Constantinople, just as a mathematical curve 
 has its own law and expression. 
 
 5. And thus again I was led on to examine more atten- 
 tively what I doubt not w^as in my thoughts long before, 
 viz. the concatenation of argument hj which the mind 
 ascends from its first to its final religious idea ; and I 
 came to the conclusion that there was no medium, in true 
 philosophy, between Atheism and Catholicity, and that a 
 perfectly consistent mind, under those circumstances in 
 which it finds itself here below, must embrace either the 
 one or the other. And I hold this still : I am a Catholic 
 by virtue of my believing in a God ; and if I am asked 
 why I believe in a God, I answer that it is because I 
 believe in myself, for I feel it impossible to believe in my 
 own existence (and of that fact I am quite sure) without 
 believing also in the existence of Him, who lives as a 
 Personal, All-seeing, All-judging Being in my conscience. 
 Now, I dare say, I have not expressed myself with philo- 
 sophical correctness, because I have not given myself to 
 the study of what metaph^'siciuns have said on the sub- 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 199 
 
 ject ; but I think I have a strong true meaning in what I 
 say which will stand examination. 
 
 6. Moreover, I found a corroboration of the fact of the 
 logical connexion of Theism with Catholicism in a consider- 
 ation parallel to that which I had adopted on the subject of 
 development of doctrine. The fact of the operation from 
 first to last of that principle of development in the truths 
 of Revelation, is an argument in favour of the identity of 
 Homan and Primitive Christianity ; but as there is a law 
 which acts upon the subject-matter of dogmatic theology, 
 so is there a law in the matter of reli^^ious faith. In the 
 first chapter of this ISTarrative I spoke of certitude as the 
 consequence, divinely intended and enjoined upon us, of 
 the accumulative force of certain given reasons which, 
 taken one by one, were only probabilities. Let it be re- 
 collected that I am historically relating my state of mind, 
 at the period of my life which I am surveying. I am not 
 speaking theologically, nor have I any intention of going 
 into controversy, or of defending myself; but speaking his- 
 torically of w^hat I held in 1843-4, I say, that I believed 
 in a God on a ground of probability, that I believed in 
 Christianity on a probability, and that I believed in 
 Catholicism on a probabilit}^, and that these three grounds 
 of probability, distinct from each other of course in sub- 
 ject matter, were still all of them one and the same in 
 nature of proof, as being probabilities— probabilities of a 
 special kind, a cumulative, a transcendent probability but 
 still probability; inasmuch as He who made us has so 
 willed, that in mathematics indeed w^e should arrive at 
 certitude by rigid demonstration, but in religious inquiry 
 we should arrive at certitude by accumulated probabilities ; 
 — He has willed, I saj, that we should so act, and, as 
 willing it. He co-operates with us in our acting, and 
 thereby enables us to do that which He wills us to do, 
 and carries us on, if our will does but co-operate with His, 
 
200 HISTOHY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 to a certitude which rises higher than the logical force of 
 our conclusions. And thus I came to see clearly, and to 
 have a satisfaction in seeing, that, in being led on into the 
 Church of Rome, I was not proceeding on any secondary 
 or isolated grounds of reason, or by controversial points 
 in detail, but was protected and justified, even in the use 
 of those secondary or particular arguments, by a great and 
 broad principle. But, let it be observed, that I am stating 
 a matter of fact, not defending it ; and if any Catholic says 
 in consequence that I have been converted in a wrong way, 
 I cannot help that now. 
 
 I have nothing more to say on the subject of the change 
 in my religious opinions. On the one hand I came gradu- 
 ally to see that the Anglican Church was formally in the 
 wrong, on the other that the Church of Rome was formally 
 in the right ; then, that no valid reasons could be assigned 
 for continuing in the Anglican, and again that no valid 
 objections could be taken to joining the Roman. Then, 
 I had nothing more to learn ; what still remained for my 
 conversion, was, not further change of opinion, but to 
 change opinion itself into the clearness and firmness of 
 intellectual conviction. 
 
 Now I proceed to detail the acts, to which I committed 
 myself during this last stage of my inquiry. 
 
 In 1843, I took two very significant steps : — 1. In Fe- 
 bruary, I made a formal Retractation of all the hard things 
 which I had said against the Church of Rome. 2. In Sep- 
 tember, I resigned the Living of St. Mary's, Littlemore 
 included : — I will speak of these two acts separately. 
 
 1. The words, in which I made my Retractation, have 
 given rise to much criticism. After quoting a number of 
 passages from my writings against the Church of Rome, 
 which I withdrew, I ended thus : — "If you ask me how 
 an individual could venture, not simpl}^ to hold, but to 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 201 
 
 publisli such, views of a communion so ancient, so wide- 
 spreading, so fruitful in Saints, I answer that I said to 
 myself, * I am not speaking my own words, I am but fol- 
 lowing almost a consensus of the divines of my own Church. 
 They have ever used the strongest language against Rome, 
 even the most able and learned of them. I wish to throw 
 myself into their system. While I say what they say, I 
 am safe. Such views, too, are necessary for our position.' 
 Yet I have reason to fear still, that such language is to be 
 ascribed, in no small measure, to an impetuous temper, a 
 hope of approving myself to persons I respect, and a wish 
 to repel the charge of Romanism." 
 
 These words have been, and are, again and again cited 
 against me, as if a confession that, when in the Anglican 
 Church, I said things against Rome which I did not really 
 believe. 
 
 For myself, I cannot understand how any impartial man 
 can so take them ; and I have explained them in print 
 several times. I trust that by this time their plain mean- 
 ing has been satisfactorily brought out by what I have said 
 in former portions of this Narrative ; still I have a word or 
 two to say in addition to my former remarks upon them. 
 
 In the passage in question I apologize for saying out 
 in controversy charges against the Church of Rome, which 
 withal I affirm that I fully believed at the time when I 
 made them. What is wonderful in such an apology ? 
 There are surely many things a man may hold, which at 
 the same time he may feel that he has no right to say 
 publicly, and which it may annoy him that he has said 
 j)ublicly. The law recognizes this principle. In our own 
 time, men have been imprisoned and fined for saying true 
 things of a bad king. The maxim has been held, that, 
 "The greater the truth, the greater is the libel." And 
 so as to the judgment of society, a just indignation would 
 be felt against a writer who brought forward wantonly 
 
202 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 the weaknesses of a great man, thougli the whole world 
 knew that thej^ existed. No one is at liberty to speak ill 
 of another without a justifiable reason, even though he 
 knows he is speaking truth, and the public knows it too. 
 Therefore, though I believed what I said against the 
 Bom an Church, nevertheless I could not religiously speak 
 it out, unless I was really justified, not only in believing 
 ill, l5ut in speaking ill. I did believe what I said on what I 
 thought to be good reasons ; but had I also a just cause for 
 saying out what I believed ? I thought I had, and it was 
 this, viz. that to say out what I believed was simply neces- 
 sary in the controversy for self-defence. It was impossible 
 to let it alone : the Anglican position could not be satis- 
 factorily maintained, without assailing the Roman. In 
 this, as in most cases of conflict, one was right or the 
 other, not both ; and the best defence was to attack. Is 
 not this almost a truism in the Eoman controversy ? Is it 
 not what every one says, who speaks on the subject at all ? 
 does any serious man abuse the Church of Rome, for the 
 sake of abusing her, or because that abuse justifies his own 
 religious position ? "What is the meaning of the very 
 word " Protestantism," but that there is a call to speak 
 out ? This then is what I said ; *'I know I spoke strongly 
 against the Church of Rome ; but it was no mere abuse, 
 for I had a serious reason for doing so." 
 
 But, not only did I think such language necessary for 
 my Church's religious position, but I recollected that all 
 the great Anglican divines had thought so before me. 
 They had thought so, and they had acted accordingly. 
 And therefore I observe in the passage in question, with 
 much propriety, that I had not used strong language 
 simplj^ out of my own head, but that in doing so I was 
 following the track, or rather reproducing the teaching, of 
 those who had preceded me. 
 
 I was pleading guilty to using violent language, but I 
 
- FROM 1841 TO 1845. 203 
 
 was pleading also that there were extenuating circum- 
 stances in the case. AVe all know the story of the convict, 
 who on the scaffold bit off his mother's ear. By doing so 
 he did not deny the fact of his own crime, for which he 
 was to hang ; but he s?id that his mother's indulgence 
 when he was a boy, had a good deal to do with it. In like 
 manner I had made a charge, and I had made it ex animo ; 
 but I accused others of having, by their own example, led 
 me into believing it and publishing it. 
 
 I was in a humour, certainly, to bite off their ears. I 
 will freely confess, indeed I said it some pages back, that I 
 was angry with the Anglican divines. I thought they had 
 taken me in ; I had read the Fathers with their eyes ; I 
 had sometimes trusted their quotations or their reasonings ; 
 and from reliance on them, I had used words or made 
 statements, which by right I ought rigidly to have ex- 
 amined myself. I had thought mj'-self safe, while I had 
 their warrant for what I said. I had exercised more faith 
 than criticism in the matter. This did not imply any 
 broad misstatements on my part, arising from reliance on 
 their authorit}^ but it implied carelessness in matters of 
 detail. And this of course was a fault. 
 
 But there was a far deeper reason for my saying what I 
 said in this matter, on which I have not hitherto touched ; 
 and it was this : — The most oppressive thought, in the 
 whole process of my change of opinion, was the clear anti- 
 cipation, verified by the event, that it would issue in tKe 
 triumph of Liberalism. Against the Anti-dogmatic prin- 
 ciple I had thrown my whole mind ; yet now I was doing 
 more than any one else could do, to promote it. I was 
 one of those who had kept it at bay in Oxford for so many 
 years ; and thus my very retirement was its triumph. The 
 men who had driven me from Oxford were distinct^ the 
 Liberals ; it was they who had opened the attack upon 
 Tract 90, and it was they who would gain a second benefit, 
 
204 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOrS OPINIONS 
 
 if I went on to abandon the Anglican Churcli. But 
 this was not alL As I have already said, there are but 
 two alternatives, the way to Eome, and the way to 
 Atheism : Anglicanism is the halfway house on the one 
 side, and Liberalism is the halfway house on the other. 
 How many men were there, as I knew full well, who would 
 not follow me now in my advance from Anglicanism to 
 Rome, but would at once leave Anglicanism and me for the 
 Liberal camp. It is not at all easy (humanly speaking) to 
 wind up an Englishman to a dogmatic level. I had done 
 so in good measure, in the case both of young men and 
 of laymen, the Anglican Via ITecUa being the representa- 
 tive of dogma. The dogmatic and the Anglican principle 
 were one, as I had taught them ; but I was breaking the 
 Via Media to pieces, and would not dogmatic faith alto- 
 gether be broken up, in the minds of a great number, by 
 the demolition of the Via Media ? Oh ! how unhappy 
 this made me ! I heard once from an eye-witness the 
 account of a poor sailor whose legs were shattered by a 
 ball, in the action off Algiers in 1816, and who was taken 
 below for an operation. The surgeon and the chaplain 
 persuaded him to have a leg off; it was done and the 
 tourniquet applied to the wound. Then, they broke it to 
 him that he must have the other off too. The poor fellow 
 said, " You should have told me that, gentlemen," and de- 
 liberately unscrewed the instrument and bled to death. 
 Would not that be the case with many friends of my own ? 
 How could I ever hope to make them believe in a second 
 theology, when I had cheated them in the first ? with what 
 face could I publish a new edition of a dogmatic creed, 
 and ask them to receive it as gospel ? Would it not be 
 plain to them that no certainty was to be found any where ? 
 Well, in my defence I could but make a lame apology ; 
 however, it was the true one, viz. that I had not read the 
 Fathers cautiously enough; that in such nice points, as 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 205 
 
 those which determine the angle of divergence between 
 the two Churches, I had made considerable miscalculations. 
 But how came this about ? why, the fact was, unpleasant 
 as it was to avow, that I had leaned too much upon the 
 assertions of Ussher, Jeremy Taylor, or Barrow, and had 
 been deceived by them. Yaleat quantum, — it was all that 
 couldhe said. This then was a chief reason of that word- 
 ing of the Retractation, which has given so much offence, 
 because the bitterness, with which it was written, was not 
 understood ; — and the following letter will illustrate it : — 
 
 " April 3, 1844. I wish to remark on William's chief 
 distress, that my changing my opinion seemed to unsettle 
 one's confidence in truth and falsehood as external things, 
 and led one to be suspicious of the new opinion as one 
 became distrustful of the old. Now in what I shall say, I 
 am not going to speak in favour of my second thoughts in 
 comparison of my first, but against such scepticism and 
 unsettlement about truth and falsehood generally, the idea 
 of which is very painful. 
 
 *' The case with me, then, was this, and not surely an 
 unnatural one : — as a matter of feeling and of duty I threw 
 mj'self into the sj^stem which I found mj^self in. I saw 
 that the English Church had a theological idea or theory 
 as such, and I took it up. I read Laud on Tradition, and 
 thought it (as I still think it) very masterly. The 
 Anglican Theory was very distinctive. I admired it and 
 took it on faith. It did not (I think) occur to me to doubt 
 it ; I saw that it was able, and supported by learning, and 
 I felt it was a duty to maintain it. Further, on looking 
 into Antiquity and reading the Fathers, I saw such 
 portions of it as I examined, fully confirmed (e. g. the 
 supremacy of Scripture). There was only one question 
 about which I had a doubt, viz. whether it would u'ork, for 
 it has never been more than a paper system. . . . 
 
 ''So far from my change of opinion having any fair 
 
206 IIISTOUY OF ]VIY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 tendency to uusettle persons as to trutli and falsehood 
 viewed as objective realities, it should be considered whether 
 such change is not necessary, if truth be a real objective 
 thing, and be made to confront a person who has been 
 brought up in a system short of truth. Surely the con- 
 tinuance of a person, who wishes to go right, in a wrong 
 system, and not his giving it iq'), would be that which 
 militated against the objectiveness of Truth, leading, as it 
 would, to the suspicion, that one thing and another were 
 equally pleasing to our Maker, where men were sincere. 
 
 " Nor surely is it a thing I need be sorry for, that I de- 
 fended the system in which I found myself, and thus have 
 had to unsay my words. For is it not one's duty, instead 
 of beginning with criticism, to throw oneself generously 
 into that form of religion which is providentially put 
 before one ? Is it right, or is it wrong, to begin with 
 private judgment ? May we not, on the other hand, look 
 for a blessing through obedience even to an erroneous sys- 
 tem, and a guidance even by means of it out of it ? Were 
 those who were strict and conscientious in their Judaism, 
 or those who were lukewarm and sceptical, more likely to 
 be led into Christianity, when Christ came ? Yet in pro- 
 portion to their previous zeal, would be their appearance 
 of inconsistency. Certainly, I have always contended that 
 obedience even to an erring conscience was the way to 
 gain light, and that it mattered not where a man began, 
 so that he began on what came to hand, and in faith ; and 
 that any thing might become a divine method of Truth ; 
 that to the pure all things are pure, and have a self- 
 correcting virtue and a power of germinating. And 
 though I have no right at all to assume that this mercy is 
 granted to me, yet the fact, that a person in my situation 
 may have it granted to him, seems to me to remove the 
 perplexity which my change of opinion may occasion. 
 
 " It may be said, — I have said it to myself, — * Why, how- 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 207 
 
 ever, did you puhlish ? had you waited quietlj^, you would 
 have changed your opinion without any of the misery, 
 which now is involved in the change, of disappointing and 
 distressing people/ I answer, that things are so bound up 
 together, as to form a whole, and one cannot tell what is 
 or is not a condition of what. I do not see how possibly 
 I could have published the Tracts, or other works profess- 
 ing to defend our Church, without accompanying them 
 with a strong protest or argument against Rome. The 
 one obvious objection against the whole Anglican line is, 
 that it is Roman ; so that I really think there was no 
 alternative between silence altogether, and forming a 
 theory and attacking the Roman system." 
 
 2. And now, in the next place, as to my Resignation of 
 St. Mary's, which was the second of the steps which I took 
 in 1843. The ostensible, direct, and sufficient reason for 
 my doing so was the persevering attack of the Bishops on 
 Tract 90. I alluded to it in the letter which I have in- 
 serted above, addressed to one of the most influential 
 among them. A series of their ex cathedra judgments, 
 lasting through three years, and including a notice of no 
 little severity in a Charge of my own Bishop, came as near 
 to a condemnation of my Tract, and, so far, to a repudiation 
 of the ancient Catholic doctrine, which was the scope of 
 the Tract, as was possible in the Church of England. It 
 was in order to shield the Tract from such a condemnation, 
 that I had at the time of its publication in 1841 so simply 
 put myself at the disposal of the higher powers in London. 
 At that time, all that was distinctly contemplated in the 
 way of censure, was contained in the message which my 
 Bishop sent me, that it was " objectionable." That I 
 thought was the end of the matter. I had refused to sup- 
 press it, and they had yielded that point. Since I published 
 the former portions of this JN'arrative, I have found what I 
 
208 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIOXS 
 
 wrote to Dr. Pusey on March 24, while the matter vras in 
 progress. "The more I think of it," I said, "the more 
 reluctant I am to suppress Tract 90, though of course I will 
 do it if the Bishop wishes it ; I cannot, however, deny that 
 I shall feel it a severe act." According to the notes which 
 I took of the letters or messages which I sent to him in the 
 course of that day, I presently wrote to him, "My first feel- 
 ing was to obey without a word ; I will obey still ; but my 
 judgment has steadily risen against it ever since." Then 
 in the Postscript, " If I have done any good to the Church, 
 I do ask the Bishop this favour, as my reward for it, that 
 he would not insist on a measure, from which I think good 
 will not come. However, I will submit to him." After- 
 wards, I got stronger still and wrote : "I have almost 
 come to the resolution, if the Bishop publicly intimates 
 that I must suppress the Tract, or speaks strongly in his 
 charge against it, to suppress it indeed, but to resign my 
 living also. I could not in conscience act otherwise. You 
 may show this in any quarter you please." 
 
 All my then hopes, all my satisfaction at the apparent ful- 
 filment of those hopes was at an end in 1843. It is not won- 
 derful then, that in May of that year, when two out of the 
 three j^ears were gone, I wrote on the subject of my re- 
 tiring from St. Mary's to the same friend, whom I had con- 
 sulted upon it in 1840. But I did more now ; I told him 
 my great unsettlement of mind on the question of the 
 Churches. I will insert portions of two of my letters : — 
 
 "May 4, 1843 At j)resent I fear, as far as I can 
 
 analyze my own convictions, I consider the Poman 
 Catholic Communion to be the Church of the Apostles, 
 and that what grace is among us (which, through God's 
 mercy, is not little) is extraordinar}^ and from the over- 
 flowings of Ilis dispensation. I am very far more sure 
 that England is in schism, than that the Poman additions 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 209 
 
 to the Primitive Creed may not be developments, arising 
 out of a keen and vivid realizing of tlie Divine Depositum 
 of Faith. 
 
 "You will now understand what gives edge to the 
 Bishops' Charges, without any undue sensitiveness on my 
 part. They distress me in two ways : —first, as being in 
 some sense protests and witnesses to my conscience against 
 my own unfaithfulness to the English Church, and next, 
 as being samples of her teaching, and tokens how very far 
 she is from even aspiring to Catholicity. 
 
 " Of course my being unfaithful to a trust is my great 
 subject of dread,— as it has long been, as you know." 
 
 \Yhen he wrote to make natural objections to my pur- 
 pose, such as the apprehension that the removal of clerical 
 obligations might have the indirect effect of propelling me 
 towards Rome, I answered : — 
 
 " May 18, 1843. ... My office or charge at St. Mary's 
 is not a mere statSy but a continual energy. People assume 
 and assert certain things of me in consequence. "With 
 what sort of sincerity can I obey the Bishop ? how am I to 
 act in the frequent cases, in which one way or another the 
 Church of Rome comes into consideration ? I have to the 
 utmost of my power tried to keep persons from Rome, and 
 with some success ; but even a year and a half since, my 
 arguments, though more efficacious with the persons I 
 aimed at than any others could be, were of a nature to in- 
 fuse great suspicion of me into the minds of lookers-on. 
 
 '' By retaining St. Mary's, I am an offence and a stum- 
 bKng-block. Persons are keen- sighted enough to make 
 out what I think on certain points, and then they infer 
 that such opinions are compatible with holding situations 
 of trust in our Church. A number of younger men take 
 the validity of their interpretation of the Articles, &c. 
 from me on faith. Is not my present position a cruelty, as 
 well as a treachery towards the Church ? 
 
210 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 " I do not see how I can either preach or publish again, 
 while I hold St. Mary's ; — but consider again the following 
 difficulty in such a resolution, which I must state at some 
 length. 
 
 "Last Long Vacation the idea suggested itself to me of 
 publishing the Lives of the English Saints ; and I had a 
 conversation with [a publisher] upon it. I thought it 
 would be useful, as employing the minds of men who were 
 in danger of running wild, bringing them from doctrine 
 to history, and from speculation to fact ; — again, as giving 
 them an interest in the English soil, and the English 
 Church, and keeping them from seeking sympathy in 
 Home, as she is ; and further, as tending to promote the 
 spread of right views. 
 
 " But, within the last month, it has come upon me, that, 
 if the scheme goes on, it will be a practical carrying out of 
 JS^o. 90, from the character of the usages and opinions of 
 ante- reformation times. 
 
 *'It is easy to say, * Why tvill you do an?/ thing? why 
 won't you keep quiet ? what business had you to think of 
 any such plan at all?' But I cannot leave a number of 
 poor fellows in the lurch. I am bound to do my best for 
 a great number of people both in Oxford and elsewhere. 
 If / did not act, others would find means to do so. 
 
 " Well, the plan has been taken up with great eagerness 
 and interest. Many men are setting to work. I set down 
 the names of men, most of them engaged, the rest half 
 engaged and probable, some actually writing." About 
 thirty names follow, some of them at that time of the 
 school of Dr. Arnold, others of Dr. Pusey's, some my 
 personal friends and of my own standing, others whom I 
 hardly knew, while of course the majority were of the party 
 of the new Movement. I continue : — 
 
 *' The plan has gone so far, that it would create surprise 
 and talk, were it now suddenly given over. Yet how is it 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 211 
 
 compatible with my holding St. Mary's, being what 
 lam?" 
 
 Such was the object and the origin of the projected 
 Series o£ the English Saints ; and, since the publication 
 was connected, as has been seen, with my resignation of 
 St. Mary's, I may be allowed to conclude what I have to 
 say on the subject here, though it may read like a digres- 
 sion. As soon then as the first of the Series got into print, 
 the whole project broke down. I had already anticipated, 
 that some portions of the Series would be written in a style 
 inconsistent with the professions of a beneficed clergyman, 
 and therefore I had given up my Living; but men of 
 great weight went further in their misgivings than I, when 
 they saw the Life of St. Stephen Harding, and decided 
 that it was of a character inconsistent even with its pro- 
 ceeding from an Anglican publisher : and so the scheme 
 was given up at once. After the two first numbers, I re- 
 tired from the- Editorship, and those Lives only were pub- 
 lished in addition, which were then already finished, or in 
 advanced preparation. The following passages from what 
 I or others wrote at the time will illustrate what I have 
 been saying : — 
 
 In November, 1844, I wrote thus to the author of one 
 of them : " I am not Editor, I have no direct control over 
 the Series. It is T.'s work; he may admit what he 
 pleases; and exclude what he pleases. I was to have 
 been Editor. I did edit the two first numbers. I was 
 responsible for them, in the way in which an Editor is 
 responsible. Had I continued Editor, I should have exer- 
 cised a control over all. I laid down in the Preface that 
 doctrinal subjects were, if possible, to be excluded. But, 
 even then, I also set down that no writer was to be held 
 answerable for any of the Lives but his own. When I 
 
212 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIO^JS 
 
 gave up tlie Editorship, I had various engagements with 
 friends for separate Lives remaining on my hands. I 
 should have liked to have broken from them all, but there 
 were some from which I could not break, and I let them 
 take their course. Some have come to nothing ; others 
 like yours have gone on. I have seen such, either in MS. 
 or Proof. As time goes on, I shall have less and less to 
 do with the Series. I think the engagement between you 
 and me should come to an end. I have any how abundant 
 responsibility on me, and too much. I shall write to T. 
 that if he wants the advantage of your assistance, he must 
 write to you direct." 
 
 In accordance with this letter, I had already advertised 
 in January 1844, ten months before it, that '' other Lives," 
 after St. Stephen Harding, would " be published by their 
 respective authors on their own responsibility." This no- 
 tice was repeated in February, in the advertisement to 
 the second number entitled " The Family of St. Richard," 
 though to this number, for some reason which I cannot 
 now recollect, I also put my initials. In the Life of 
 St. Augustine, the author, a man of nearly my own age, 
 says in like manner, " No one but himself is responsible 
 for the way in which these materials have been used." I 
 have in MS. another advertisement to the same effect, but 
 I cannot tell whether it ever appeared in print. 
 
 I will add, since the authors have been considered "hot- 
 headed fanatic young men," whom I was in charge of, 
 and whom I suffered to do intemperate things, that, while 
 the writer of St. Augustine was in 1844 past forty, the 
 author of the proposed Life of St. Boniface, Mr. Bowden, 
 was forty-six ; Mr. Johnson, who was to write St. Aid- 
 helm, forty-three ; and most of the others were on one side 
 or other of thirty. Three, I think, were under twenty- 
 five. Moreover, of these writers some became Catholics, 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 213 
 
 some remained Anglicans, and others have professed what 
 are called free or liberal opinions \ 
 
 The immediate cause of the resignation of my Living 
 is stated in the following letter, which I wrote to my 
 Bishop : — 
 
 "August 29, 1843. It is with much concern that I 
 inform your Lordship, that Mr. A. B., who has been for 
 the last year an inmate of my house here, has just con- 
 formed to the Church of Eome. As I have ever been 
 desirous, not only of faithfully discharging the trust, 
 which is involved in holding a living in your Lordship's 
 diocese, but of approving myself to your Lordship, I will 
 for your information state one or two circumstances con- 
 nected with this unfortunate event I received him 
 
 on condition of his promising me, which he distinctly did, 
 that he would remain quietly in our Church for three 
 years. A year has passed since that time, and, though 
 I saw nothing in him which promised that he would even- 
 tually be contented with his present position, yet for the 
 time his mind became as settled as one could wish, and he 
 frequently expressed his satisfaction at being under the 
 promise which I had exacted of him." 
 
 I felt it impossible to remain any longer in the service 
 of the Anglican Church, when such a breach of trust, how- 
 ever little I had to do with it, would be laid at my door. 
 I wrote in a few days to a friend : 
 
 '' September 7, 1843. I this day ask the Bishop leave to 
 resign St. Mary's. Men whom you little think, or at least 
 whom I little thought, are in almost a hopeless way. Really 
 we may expect any thing. I am going to publish a Volume 
 of Sermons, including those Four against moving." 
 
 I resigned my living on September the 18th. I had not 
 
 ^ Vide Note D, Lives of the English Sai7iis. 
 
214* HISTORY OF MY S.ELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 the means of doing it legally at Oxford. The late Mr. 
 Goldsmid was kind enough to aid me in resigning it in 
 London. I found no fault with the Liberals ; they had 
 beaten me in a fair field. As to the act of the Bishops, 
 I thought, to borrow a Scriptural image from Walter Scott, 
 that they had " seethed the kid in his mother's milk." 
 I said to a friend : — 
 
 " Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni," 
 
 And now I may be almost said to have brought to an 
 end, as far as is necessary for a sketch such as this is, the 
 history both of my changes of religious opinion and of the 
 public acts which they involved. 
 
 I had one final advance of mind to accomplish, and one 
 final step to take. That further advance of mind was to be 
 able honestly to say that I was certain of the conclusions at 
 which I had already arrived. That further step, impera- 
 tive when such certitude was attained, was my submission 
 to the Catholic Church. 
 
 This submission did not take place till two full years 
 after the resignation of my living in September 1843 ; nor 
 could I have made it at an earlier day, without doubt and 
 apprehension, that is, with any true conviction of mind or 
 certitude. 
 
 In the interval, of which it remains to speak, viz. between 
 the autumns of 1843 and 1845, I was in lay communion 
 with the Church of England, attending its services as usual, 
 and abstaining altogether from intercourse with Catholics, 
 from their places of worship, and from those religious rites 
 and usages, such as the Invocation of Saints, which are 
 characteristics of their creed. I did all this on principle ; 
 for I never could understand how a man could be of two 
 religions at once. 
 
 What I have to say about mj^self between these two 
 autumns I shall almost confine to this one point,— the 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 215 
 
 difficulty I was in, as to tlie best mode of revealing the 
 state of my mind to my friends and others, and how I 
 managed to reveal it. 
 
 Up to January, 1842, I had not disclosed my state of 
 unsettlement to more than three persons, as has been men- 
 tioned above, and as is repeated in the course of the letters 
 which I am now about to give to the reader. To two of 
 them, intimate and familiar companions, in the Autumn 
 of 1839 : to the third, an old friend too, whom I have also 
 named above, I suppose, when I was in great distress of 
 mind upon the affair of the Jerusalem Bishopric. In May, 
 1843, I made it known, as has been seen, to the friend, by 
 whose advice I wished, as far as possible, to be guided. 
 To mention it on set purpose to any one, unless indeed I 
 was asking advice, I should have felt to be a crime. If 
 there is any thing that was abhorrent to me, it was the 
 scattering doubts, and unsettling consciences without ne- 
 cessity. A strong presentiment that my existing opinions 
 would ultimately give way, and that the grounds of them 
 were unsound, was not a sufficient warrant for disclosing 
 the state of my mind. I had no guarantee yet, that that 
 presentiment would be realized. Supposing I were cross- 
 ing ice, which came right in my way, which I had good 
 reasons for considering sound, and which I saw numbers 
 before me crossing in safety, and supposing a stranger 
 from the bank, in a voice of authority, and in an earnest 
 tone, warned me that it was dangerous, and then was 
 silent, I think I should be startled, and should look about 
 me anxiously, but I think too that I should go on, till I had 
 better grounds for doubt ; and such was my state, I be- 
 lieve, till the end of 1842. Then again, when my dissatis- 
 faction became greater, it was hard at first to determine 
 the point of time, when it was too strong to suppress with 
 propriety. Certitude of course is a point, but doubt is a pro- 
 gress; I was not near certitude yet. Certitude is a reflex 
 
216 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPIXIONS 
 
 action ; it is to know that one knows. Of that I believe I 
 was not possessed, till close upon my reception into the Ca- 
 tholic Church. Again, a practical, effective doubt is a point 
 too, but who can easily ascertain it for himself? Who 
 can determine when it is, that the scales hi the balance of 
 opinion begin to turn, and what was a greater probability 
 in behalf of a belief becomes a positive doubt against it ? 
 
 In considering this question in its bearing upon my con- 
 duct in 1843, my own simple answer to my great difficulty 
 had been, J)o what your present state of opinion requires 
 in the light of duty, and let that doing tell : speak by acts. 
 This I had done ; my first act of the year had been in 
 Februar}^ After three months' deliberation I had pub- 
 lished my retractation of the violent charges which I had 
 made against Rome : I could not be wrong in doing so 
 much as this ; but I did no more at the time : I did not 
 retract my Anglican teaching. My second act had been 
 in September in the same year ; after much sorrowful 
 lingering' and hesitation, I had resigned my Living. I 
 tried indeed, before I did so, to keep Littlemore for myself, 
 even though it was still to remain an integral part of St. 
 Mary's. I had given to it a Church and a sort of Parsonage ; 
 I had made it a Parish, and I loved it ; I thought in 1843 
 that perhaps I need not forfeit my existing relations to- 
 wards it. I could indeed submit to become the curate at 
 will of another, but I hoped an arrangement was possible, 
 by which, while I had the curacy, I might have been my 
 own master in serving it. I had hoped an exception might 
 have been made in my favour, under the circumstances ; but 
 I did not gain my request. Perhaps I was asking what 
 was impracticable, and it is well for me that it was so. 
 
 These had been my two acts of the year, and I said, " I 
 cannot be wrong in making them ; let that follow which 
 must follow in the thoughts of the world about me, when 
 they see what I do." And, as time went on, they fully 
 answered my purpose. What I felt it a simple duty to do, 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 217 
 
 did create a general suspicion about me, without sucli 
 responsibility as would be involved in my initiating any 
 direct act for the sake of creating it. Then, when friends 
 wrote me on the subject, I either did not deny or I con- 
 fessed my state of mind, according to the character and 
 need of their letters. Sometimes in the case of intimate 
 friends, whom I should otherwise have been leaving in 
 ignorance of what others knew on every side of them, I 
 invited the question. 
 
 And here comes in another point for explanation. 
 While I was fighting in Oxford for the Anglican Church, 
 then indeed I was very glad to make converts, and, though 
 I never broke away from that rule of my mind, (as I may 
 call it,) of which I have already spoken, of finding disciples 
 rather than seeking them, yet, that I made advances to 
 others in a special way, I have no doubt ; this came to an 
 end, however, as soon as I fell into misgivings as to the true 
 ground to be taken in the controversy. For then, when 
 I gave up my place in the Movement, I ceased from any 
 such proceedings : and my utmost endeavour was to tran- 
 quillize such persons, especially those who belonged to the 
 new school, as were unsettled in their religious views, and, 
 as I judged, hasty in their conclusions. This went on till 
 1843 ; but, at that date, as soon as I turned my face Rome- 
 ward, I gave up, as far as ever was possible, the thought of 
 in any respect and in any shape acting upon others. Then I 
 myself was simply my own concern. How could I in any 
 sense direct others, who had to be guided in so momentous 
 a matter myself? How could I be considered in a position, 
 even to say a word to them one way or the other ? How 
 could I presume to unsettle them, as I was unsettled, when 
 I had no means of bringing them out of such unsettle- 
 ment ? And, if they were unsettled already, how could I 
 point to them a place of refuge, when I was not sure that 
 I should choose it for myself? My only line, my only 
 
218 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 duty, was to keep simply to my own case. I recollected 
 Pascal's words, " Je mourrai seul." I deliberately put out 
 of my thoughts all other works and claims, and said 
 nothing to any one, unless I was obliged. 
 
 But this brought upon me a great trouble. In the 
 newspapers there were continual reports about my inten- 
 tions ; I did not answer them; presently strangers or 
 friends wrote, begging to be allowed to answer them ; and, 
 if I still kept to my resolution and said nothing, then I 
 was thought to be mysterious, and a prejudice was excited 
 against me. But, what was far worse, there were a num- 
 ber of tender, eager hearts, of whom I knew nothing at 
 all, who were watching me, wishing to think as I thought, 
 and to do as I did, if they could but find it out ; who in 
 consequence were distressed, that, in so solemn a matter, 
 they could not see what was coming, and who heard re- 
 ports about me this way or that, on a first day and on a 
 second ; and felt the weariness of waiting, and the sickness 
 of delayed hope, and did not understand that I was as 
 perplexed as they were, and, being of more sensitive com- 
 plexion of mind than myself, were made ill by the sus- 
 pense. And they too of course for the time thought me 
 mysterious and inexplicable. I ask their pardon as far as 
 I was really unkind to them. There was a gifted and 
 deeply earnest lady, who in a parabolical account of that 
 time, has described both my conduct as she felt it, and 
 that of such as herself. In a singularly graphic, amusing 
 vision of pilgrims, who were making their way across a 
 bleak common in great discomfort, and who were ever 
 warned against, yet continually nearing, ^' the king's high- 
 way" on the right, she says, "All my fears and disquiets 
 were speedily renewed by seeing the most daring of our 
 leaders, (the same who had first forced his way through 
 the palisade, and in whose courage and sagacity we all put 
 implicit trust,) suddenly stop short, and declare that he 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 219 
 
 would go on no further. He did not, however, take the 
 leap at once, but quietly sat down on the top of the fence 
 with his feet hanging towards the road, as if he meant to 
 take his time about it, and let himself down easily." I do 
 not wonder at all that I thus seemed so unkind to a lady, 
 who at that time had never seen me. We were both in 
 trial in our different ways. I am far from denying that I 
 was acting selfishly both in her case and in that of others ; 
 but it was a religious selfishness. Certainly to myself my 
 own duty seemed clear. They that are whole can heal 
 others; but in my case it was, "Physician, heal thyself* 
 My own soul was my first concern, and it seemed an ab- 
 surdity to my reason to be converted in partnership. I 
 wished to go to my Lord by myself, and in my own way, 
 or rather His way. I had neither wish, nor, I may say, 
 thought of taking a number with me. Moreover, it is 
 but the truth to say, that it had ever been an annoyance 
 to me to seem to be the head of a party ; and that even 
 from fastidiousness of mind, I could not bear to find a thing 
 done elsewhere, simply or mainly because I did it myself, 
 and that, from distrust of myself, I shrank from the thought, 
 whenever it was brought home to me, that I was influencing 
 others. But nothing of this could be known to the world. 
 
 The following three letters are written to a friend, who 
 had every claim upon me to be frank with him. Archdeacon 
 Manning : — it will be seen that I disclose the real state of 
 my mind in proportion as he presses me. 
 
 1. " October 14, 1843. I would tell you in f few words 
 why I have resigned St. Mary's, as you se6m to wish, 
 were it possible to do so. But it is most diflicult to bring 
 out in brief, or even in extenso, any just view of my feelings 
 and reasons. 
 
 *' The nearest approach I can give to a general account 
 of them is to say, that it has been caused by the general 
 repudiation of the view, contained in JN"©. 90, on the part 
 
220 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 of the Church. I could not stand against such an unani- 
 mous expression of opinion from, the Bishops, supported, 
 as it has been, by the concurrence, or at least silence, of 
 all classes in the Church, lay and clerical. If there ever 
 was a case, in which an individual teacher has been put 
 aside and virtually put away by a community, mine is one. 
 No decency has been observed in the attacks upon me 
 from authority ; no protests have been offered against 
 them. It is felt, — I am far from denying, justly felt, — 
 that I am a foreign material, and cannot assimilate with 
 the Church of England. 
 
 " Even my own Bishop has said that my mode of inter- 
 preting the Articles makes them mean anf/ tiling or notJiing. 
 When I heard this delivered, I did not believe my ears. 
 I denied to others that it was said. . . . Out came the 
 charge, and the words could not be mistaken. This 
 astonished me the more, because I published that Letter 
 to him, (how unwillingly you know,) on the understanding 
 that /was to deliver his judgment on No. 90 instead of 
 him. A year elapses, and a second and heavier judgment 
 came forth. I did not bargain for this, — nor did he, but 
 the tide was too strong for him. 
 
 "I fear that I must confess, that, in proportion as I 
 think the English Church is showing herself intrinsically 
 and radically alien from Catholic principles, so do I feel 
 the difficulties of defending her claims to be a branch of 
 the Catholic Church. It seems a dream to call a com- 
 munion Catholic, when one can neither appeal to any clear 
 statement of Catholic doctrine in its formularies, nor inter- 
 pret ambiguous formularies by the received and living 
 Catholic sense, whether past or present. Men of Catholic 
 views are too truly but a party in our Church. I cannot 
 deny that many other independent circumstances, which 
 it is not worth while entering into, have led me to the 
 same conclusion. 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 221 
 
 " I *do not say all this to every body, as you may sup- 
 pose ; but I do not like to make a secret of it to you." 
 
 2. " Oct. 25, 1843. You have engaged in a dangerous 
 correspondence ; I am deeply sorry for the pain I shall 
 give you. 
 
 " I must tell you then frankly, (but I combat arguments 
 V7hich to me, alas, are shadows,) that it is not from disap- 
 pointment, irritation, or impatience, that I have, whether 
 rightly or wrongly, resigned St. Mary's ; but because I 
 think the Church of Rome the Catholic Church, and ours 
 not part of the Catholic Church, because not in communion 
 with Rome ; and because I feel that I could not honestly 
 be a teacher in it any longer. 
 
 " This thought came to me last summer four years. 
 . . I mentioned it to two friends in the autumn. . . It 
 arose in the first instance from the Monophysite and 
 Donatist controversies, the former of which I was engaged 
 with in the course of theological study to which I had 
 given myself. This was at a time when no Bishop, I 
 believe, had declared against us ^ and when all was 
 progress and hope. I do not think I have ever felt 
 disappointment or impatience, certainly not then ; for 
 I never looked forward to the future, nor do I realize 
 it now. 
 
 " My first effort was to write that article on the Catho- 
 licity of the English Church ; for two j^ears it quieted me. 
 Since the summer of 1839 I have written little or nothing 
 on modern controversy. . . You know how unwillingly I 
 wrote my letter to the Bishop in which I committed 
 myself again, as the safest course under circumstances. 
 The article I speak of quieted me till the end of 1841, 
 over the affair of No. 90, when that wretched Jerusalem 
 Bishopric (no personal matter) revived all my alarms. 
 
 2 I think Sumner, Bishop of Chester, must have done so already. 
 
222 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 They have increased up to this moment. At that time I 
 told my secret to another person in addition. 
 
 " You see then that the various ecclesiastical and quasi- 
 ecclesiastical acts, which have taken place in the course of 
 the last two years and a half, are not the cause of my state 
 of opinion, but are keen stimulants and weighty confirma- 
 tions of a conviction forced upon me, while engaged in the 
 course of duty, viz. that theological reading to which I had 
 given myself. And this last-mentioned circumstance is a 
 fact, which has never, I think, come before me till now 
 that I write to you. 
 
 "It is three years since, on account of my state of 
 opinion, I urged the Provost in vain to let St. Mary's be 
 separated from Littlemore ; thinking I might with a safe 
 conscience serve the latter, though I could not comfortably 
 continue in so public a place as a University. This was 
 before No. 90. 
 
 " Finally, I have acted under advice, and that, not of 
 my own choosing, but what came to me in the way of 
 duty, nor the advice of those only who agree with me, but 
 of near friends who differ from me. 
 
 " I have nothing to reproach myself with, as far as I 
 see, in the matter of impatience ; i. e. practically or in 
 conduct. And I trust that He, who has kept me in the 
 slow course of change hitherto, will keep me still from 
 hasty acts, or resolves with a doubtful conscience. 
 
 " This I am sure of, that such interposition as yours, 
 kind as it is, only does what you would consider harm. 
 It makes me realize my own views to myself; it makes 
 me see their consistency ; it assures me of my own deli- 
 berateness ; it suggests to me the traces of a Providential 
 Hand ; it takes away the pain of disclosures ; it relieves 
 me of a heavy secret. 
 
 " You may make what use of my letters you think 
 right." 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 223 
 
 3. My coiTespondent wrote to me once more, and I replied 
 thus : " October 31, 1843. Your letter has made my heart 
 ache more, and caused me more and deeper sighs than any 
 I have had a long while, though I assure you there is 
 much on all sides of me to cause sighing and heartache. 
 On all sides : — I am quite haunted by the one dreadful 
 whisper repeated from so many quarters, and causing the 
 keenest distress to friends. You know but a part of my 
 present trial, in knowing that I am unsettled myself. 
 
 " Since the beginning of this year I have been obliged 
 to tell the state of my mind to some others ; but never, I 
 think, without being in a way obliged, as from friends 
 writing to me as you did, or guessing how matters stood. 
 No one in Oxford knows it or here" [Littlemore], "but 
 one near friend whom I felt I could not help telling the 
 other day. But, I suppose, many more suspect it." 
 
 On receiving these letters, my correspondent, if I recol- 
 lect rightly, at once communicated the matter of them to 
 Dr. Pusey, and this will enable me to describe, as nearly as I 
 can, the way in which he first became aware of my changed 
 state of opinion. 
 
 I had from the first a great difficulty in making Dr. 
 Pusey understand such differences of opinion as existed 
 between himself and me. When there was a proposal 
 about the end of 1838 for a subscription for a Cranmer 
 Memorial, he wished us both to subscribe together to it. 
 I could not, of course, and wished him to subscribe by 
 himself. That he would not do ; he could not bear the 
 thought of our appearing to the world in separate posi- 
 tions, in a matter of importance. And, as time went on, 
 he would not take any hints, which I gave him, on the 
 subject of my growing inclination to Pome. "VYhen I 
 found him so determined, I often had not the heart to go 
 on. And then I knew, that, from affection to me, he so 
 often took up and threw himself into what I said, that 1 
 
224 iiisTor^Y OF my religious opinions 
 
 felt the great responsibility I should incur, if I put things 
 before him just as I might view them m3^self. And, not 
 knowing him so well as I did afterwards, I feared lest I 
 should unsettle him. And moreover, I recollected well, 
 how prostrated he had been with illness in 1832, and I used 
 always to think that the start of the Movement had given 
 him a fresh life. I fancied that his physical energies even 
 depended on the presence of a vigorous hope and bright 
 prospects for his imagination to feed upon ; so much so, 
 that when he was so unworthily treated by the authorities 
 of the place in 1843, I recollect writing to the late Mr. 
 Dodsworth to state my anxiet}?-, lest, if his mind became 
 dejected in consequence, his health should suffer seriously 
 also. These were difficulties in my way ; and then again, 
 another difficulty was, that, as we were not together under 
 the same roof, we only saw each other at set times ; others 
 indeed, who were coming in or out of my rooms freely, 
 and according to the need of the moment, knew all my 
 thoughts easily ; but for him to know them well, formal 
 efforts were necessary. A common friend of ours broke it 
 all to him in 1841, as far as matters had gone at that 
 time, and showed him clearly the logical conclusions 
 which must lie in propositions to which I had committed 
 myself; but somehow or other in a little while, his mind 
 fell back into its former happy state, and he could not 
 bring himself to believe that he and I should not go on 
 pleasantly together to the end. But that affectionate 
 dream needs must have been broken at last ; and two 
 years afterwards, that friend to whom I wrote the letters 
 which I have just now inserted, set himself, as I have 
 said, to break it. Upon that, I too begged Dr. Pusey to 
 tell in private to any one he would, that I thought in the 
 event I should leave the Church of England. However, 
 he would not do so ; and at the end of 1844 had almost 
 relapsed into his former thoughts about me, if I may 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 225 
 
 judge from a letter of his wMcli I liave found. Nay, at 
 the Commemoration of 1845, a few months before I left 
 the Anglican Church, I think he said about me to a friend, 
 " I trust after all we shall keep him." 
 
 In that autumn of 1843, at the time that I spoke to 
 Dr. Pusey, I asked another friend also to communicate in 
 confidence, to whom he would, the prospect which lay be- 
 fore me. 
 
 To another friend, Mr. James Hope, now Mr. Hope 
 Scott, I gave the opportunity of knowing it, if he would, 
 in the following Postscript to a letter : — 
 
 " While I write, I will add a word about myself You 
 may come near a person or two who, owing to circum- 
 stances, know more exactly my state of feeling than you 
 do, though they would not tell you. Now I do not like 
 that you should not be aware of this, though I see no 
 reason why you should know what they happen to know. 
 Your wishing it would he a reason." 
 
 I had a dear and old friend, near his death ; I never 
 told him my state of mind. Why should I unsettle that 
 sweet calm tranquillity, when I had nothing to offer him 
 instead? I could not say, " Go to Rome ;" else I should 
 have shown him the way. Yet I offered myself for his 
 examination. One day he led the way to my speaking 
 out ; but, rightly or wrongly, I could not respond. My 
 reason was, " I have no certainty on the matter myself. 
 To say ' I think ' is to tease and- to distress, not to per- 
 suade." 
 
 I wrote to him on Michaelmas Day, 1843: "As you 
 may suppose, I have nothing to write to you about, 
 pleasant. I could tell you some very painful things ; but 
 it is best not to anticipate trouble, which after all can but 
 happen, and, for what one knows, may be averted. You 
 are always so kind, that sometimes, when I part with you, 
 I am nearly moved to tears, and it would be a relief to be 
 
226 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 SO, at your kindness and at my hardness. I think no one 
 ever had such kind friends as I have." 
 
 The next year, January 22, I wrote to him : " Pusey 
 has quite enough on him, and generously takes on him- 
 self more than enough, for me to add burdens when I am 
 not obliged ; particularly too, when I am very conscious, 
 that there are burdens, which I am or shall be obliged to 
 lay upon him some time or other, whether I will or no." 
 
 And on February 21 : " Half-past ten. I am just up, 
 having a bad cold ; the like has not happened to me 
 (except twice in January) in my memory. You may 
 think you have been in my thoughts, long before my 
 rising. Of course you are so continually, as you well 
 know. I could not come to see you ; I am not worthy of 
 friends. With my opinions, to the full of which I dare 
 not confess, I feel like a guilty person with others, though 
 I trust I am not so. People kindly think that I have 
 much to bear externally, disappointment, slander, &c. 
 No, I have nothing to bear, but the anxiety which I feel 
 for my friends' anxiety for me, and their perplexity. This 
 is a better Ash- Wednesday than birthday present ; " [his 
 birthday was the same day as mine ; it was Ash- Wednes- 
 day that year ;] " but I cannot help writing about what 
 is uppermost. And now, my dear A., all kindest and best 
 wishes to you, my oldest friend, whom I must not speak 
 more about, and with reference to myself, lest you should 
 be angry." It was not in his nature to have doubts : he 
 used to look at me with anxiety, and wonder what had 
 come over me. 
 
 On Easter Monday : " All that is good and gracious 
 descend upon you and yours from the influences of this 
 Blessed Season ; and it will be so, (so be it !) for what is 
 the life of you all, as day passes after day, but a simple 
 endeavour to serve Him, from whom all blessing comes ? 
 Though we are separated in place, yet this we have in 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 227 
 
 common, tliat you are living a calm and clieerful time, and 
 I am enjoying tlie thought of you. It is your blessing to 
 have a clear heaven, and peace around, according to the 
 blessing pronounced on Benjamin ^. So it is, my dear A., 
 and so may it ever be." 
 
 He was in simple good faith. He died in September of 
 the same year. I had expected that his last illness would 
 have brought light to my mind, as to what I ought to do. 
 It brought none. I made a note, which runs thus : " I 
 sobbed bitterly over his coffin, to think that he left me still 
 dark as to what the way of truth was, and what I ought 
 to do in order to please God and fulfil His will." I think 
 I wrote to Charles Marriott to say, that at that moment, 
 with the thought of my friend before me, my strong view 
 in favour of Rome remained just what it was. On the 
 other hand, my firm belief that grace was to be found 
 within the Anglican Church remained too''. I wrote to 
 another friend thus : — 
 
 "Sept. 16, 1844. I am full of wrong and miserable 
 feelings, which it is useless to detail, so grudging and 
 sullen, when I should be thankful. Of course, when one 
 sees so blessed an end, and that, the termination of so 
 blameless a life, of one who really fed on our ordinances 
 and got strength from them, and sees the same continued 
 in a whole family, the little children finding quite a solace 
 of their pain in the Daily Prayer, it is impossible not to 
 feel more at ease in our Church, as at least a sort of Zoar, 
 a place of refuge and temporary rest, because of the steep- 
 ness of the way. Only, may we be kept from unlawful 
 security, lest we have Moab and Ammon for our progeny, 
 the enemies of Israel." 
 
 ' Deut. xxxiii. 12. 
 
 * On this subject, vide my Third Lecture on "Anglican Difficulties," also 
 Note E, Anglican Church. 
 
228 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 I could not continue in this state, either in the light of 
 duty or of reason. My difficulty was this : I had been 
 deceived greatly once ; how could I be sure that I was not 
 deceived a second time ? I thought myself right then ; 
 how was I to be certain that I was right now? How 
 many years had I thought myself sure of what I now re- 
 jected ? how could I ever again have confidence in myself? 
 As in 1840 I listened to the rising doubt in favour of 
 Eome, now I listened to the waning doubt in favour of 
 the Anglican Church. To be certain is to know that one 
 knows ; what inward test had I, that I should not change 
 again, after that I had become a Catholic? I had still 
 apprehension of this, though I thought a time would come, 
 when it would depart. However, some limit ought to be 
 put to these vague misgivings; I must do my best and then 
 leave it to a higher Power to prosper it. So, at the end of 
 1844, 1 came to the resolution of writing an Essay on Doc- 
 trinal Development ; and then, if, at the end of it, my con- 
 victions in favour of the Roman Church were not weaker, 
 of taking the necessary steps for admission into her fold. 
 
 By this time the state of my mind was generally known, 
 and I made no great secret of it. I will illustrate it by 
 letters of mine which have been put into my hands. 
 
 " November 16, 1844. I am going through what must 
 be gone through ; and my trust only is that every day of 
 pain is so much taken from the necessary draught which 
 must be exhausted. There is no fear (humanly speaking) 
 of my moving for a long time yet. This has got out 
 without my intending it ; but it is all well. As far as I 
 know myself, my one great distress is the perplexity, un- 
 settlement, alarm, scepticism, which I am causing to so 
 many ; and the loss of kind feeling and good opinion on 
 the part of so many, known and unknown, who have 
 wished well to me. And of these two sources of pain it is 
 the former that is the constant, urgent, unmitigated one. 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 229 
 
 I had for days a literal ache all about my heart ; and from 
 time to time all the complaints of the Psalmist seemed to 
 belong to me. 
 
 " And as far as I know myself, my one paramount reason 
 for contemplating a change is my deep, unvarjang convic- 
 tion that our Church is in schism, and that my salvation 
 depends on my joining the Church of Rome. I may use 
 argumenta ad hominem to this person or that"; but I am not 
 conscious of resentment, or disgust, at any thing that has 
 happened to me. I have no visions whatever of hope, no 
 schemes of action, in any other sphere more suited to me. 
 I have no existing sympathies with Roman Catholics ; I 
 hardly ever, even abroad, was at one of their services ; I 
 know none of them, I do not like what I hear of them. 
 
 " And then, how much I am giving up in so many ways ! 
 and to me sacrifices irreparable, not only from my age, 
 when people hate changing, but from my especial love of 
 old associations and the pleasures of memory. Nor am I 
 conscious of any feeling, enthusiastic or heroic, of pleasure 
 in the sacrifice ; I have nothing to support me here. 
 
 " What keeps me yet is what has kept me long ; a fear 
 that I am under a delusion ; but the conviction remains 
 firm under all circumstances, in all frames of mind. And 
 this most serious feeling is growing on me ; viz. that the 
 reasons for which I believe as much as our system teaches, 
 must lead me to believe more, and that not to believe more 
 is to fall back into scepticism. 
 
 " A thousand thanks for your most kind and consoling 
 letter ; though I have not yet spoken of it, it was a great 
 
 gift." 
 
 Shortly after I wrote to the same friend thus : " My 
 intention is, if nothing comes upon me, which I cannot 
 
 * Vide supr. p. 219, &c. Letter of Oct. 14, 1843, compared with that of 
 Oct. 26. 
 
230 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIO^'S 
 
 foresee, to remain quietly in statu quo for a considerable 
 time, trusting that my friends will kindly remember me 
 and my trial in their prayers. And I should give up my 
 fellowship some time before any thing further took place." 
 There was a lady, who was very anxious on the subject, 
 and I wrote to her the following letters : — 
 
 1. ''November 7, 1844. I am still where I was; I am 
 not moving. Two things, however, seem plain, that every 
 one is prepared for such an event, next, that every one 
 expects it of me. Few, indeed, who do not think it suit- 
 able, fewer still, who do not think it likely. However, I 
 do not think it either suitable or likely. I have very little 
 reason to doubt about the issue of things, but the when and 
 the how are known to Him, from whom, I trust, both the 
 course of things and the issue come. The expression of 
 opinion, and the latent and habitual feeling about me, 
 which is on every side and among all parties, has great 
 force. I insist upon it, because I . have a great dread of 
 going by my own feelings, lest they should mislead me. 
 By one's sense of duty one must go ; but external facts 
 support one in doing so.'' 
 
 2. " January 8, 1845. "What am I to say in answer to 
 your letter ? I know perfectly well, I ought to let you 
 know more of my feelings and state of mind than you do 
 know. But how is that possible in a few words ? Any 
 thing I say must be abrupt ; nothing can I say which will 
 not leave a bewildering feeling, as needing so much to ex- 
 plain it, and being isolated, and (as it were) unlocated, 
 and not having any thing with it to show its bearings upon 
 other parts of the subject. 
 
 " At present, my full belief is, in accordance with your 
 letter, that, if there is a move in our Church, very few 
 persons indeed will be partners to it. I doubt whether 
 one or two at the most among residents at Oxford. And 
 I don't know whether I can wish it. The state of the 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 231 
 
 E/Oman Catholics is at present so unsatisfactory. This I 
 am sure of, that nothing but a simple, direct call of duty 
 is a warrant for any one leaving our Church ; no prefer- 
 ence of another Church, no delight in its services, no hope 
 of greater religious advancement in it, no indignation, no 
 disgust, at the persons and things, among which we may 
 find ourselves in the Church of England. The simple 
 question is. Can I (it is personal, not whether another, but 
 can /) be saved in the English Church ? am I in safety, 
 were I to die to-night ? Is it a mortal sin in me, not join- 
 ing another communion ? 
 
 ''P.S. I hardly see my way to concur in attendance, 
 though occasional, in the Roman Catholic chapel, unless a 
 man has made up his mind pretty well to join it eventually. 
 Invocations are not required in the Church of Rome ; some- 
 how, I do not like using them except under the sanction of 
 the Church, and this makes me unwilling to admit them 
 in members of our Church." 
 
 3. " March 30. JSTow I will tell you more than any one 
 knows except two friends. My own convictions are as 
 strong as I suppose they can become : only it is so difficult 
 to know whether it is a call of reason or of conscience. I 
 cannot make out, if I am impelled by what seems clear, or 
 by a sense of duty. You can understand how painful this 
 doubt is ; so I have waited, hoping for light, and using the 
 words of the Psalmist, ' Show some token upon me.' But 
 I suppose I have no right to wait for ever for this. Then 
 I am waiting, because friends are most considerately bear- 
 ing me in mind, and asking guidance forme ; and, I trust, 
 I should attend to any new feelings which came upon me, 
 should that be the effect of their kindness. And then this 
 waiting subserves the purpose of preparing men's minds. 
 I dread shocking, unsettling people. Any how, I can't 
 avoid giving incalculable pain. So, if I had my will, I 
 should like to wait till the summer of 1846, wliich would 
 
232 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 be a full seven years from the time that my convictions 
 first began to fall on me. But I don't think I shall last 
 so long. 
 
 " My present intention is to give up my Fellowship in 
 October, and to publish some work or treatise between that 
 and Christmas. I wish people to know why I am acting, 
 as well as iclud I am doing ; it takes off that vague and 
 distressing surprise, * "\Yhat can have made him ? " 
 
 4. " June 1. What you tell me of yourself makes it 
 plain that it is your duty to remain quietly and patiently, 
 till you see more clearly where you are ; else you are leap- 
 ing in the dark." 
 
 In the early part of this year, if not before, there was 
 an idea afloat that my retirement from the Anglican 
 Church was owing to my feeling that I had so been thrust 
 aside, without any one's taking my part. Various measures 
 were, I believe, talked of in consequence of this surmise. 
 Coincidently with it appeared an exceedingly kind article 
 about me in a Quarterly, in its April number. The writer 
 praised me in kind and beautiful language far above my 
 deserts. In the course of his remarks, he said, speaking 
 of me as Vicar of St. Mary's : " He had the future race of 
 clergy hearing him. Did he value and feel tender about, 
 and cling to his position ? . . . . Not at all. . . . No 
 sacrifice to him perhaps, he did not care about such 
 things." 
 
 There was a censure implied, however covertly, in these 
 words ; and it is alluded to in the following letter, addressed 
 to a very intimate friend : — 
 
 "April 3, 1845. . . . Accept this apology, my dear 
 Church, and forgive me. As I say so, tears come into my 
 eyes ; — that arises from the accident of this time, when I 
 am giving up so much I love. Just now I have been over- 
 set by A.'s article in the Christian Remembrancer; yet 
 really, my dear Church, I have never for an instant had 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 233 
 
 even the temptation of repenting my leaving Oxford. The 
 feeling of repentance has not even come into my mind. 
 How could it ? How could I remain at St. Mary's a hypo- 
 crite ? how could I be answerable for souls, (and life so 
 uncertain,) with the convictions, or at least persuasions, 
 which I had upon me ? It is indeed a responsibility to 
 act as I am doing ; and I feel His hand heavy on me 
 without intermission, who is all Wisdom and Love, so that 
 my heart and mind are tired out. just as the limbs might 
 be from a load on one's back. That sort of dull aching 
 pain is mine ; but my responsibility really is nothing to 
 what it would be, to be answerable for souls, for confiding 
 loving souls, in the English Church, with my convictions. 
 My love to Marriott, and save me the pain of sending him 
 a line." 
 
 I am now close upon the date of my reception into the 
 Catholic Church ; at the beginning of the year a letter had 
 been addressed to me by a very dear friend, now no more, 
 Charles Marriott. I quote some sentences from it, for the love 
 which I bear him and the value that I set on his good word. 
 
 "January 15, 1845. You know me well enough to be 
 aware, that I never see through any thing at first. Your 
 letter to Badeley casts a gloom over the future, which you 
 can understand, if you have understood me, as I believe 
 you have. But I may speak out at once, of what I see and 
 feel at once, and doubt not that I shall ever feel : that your 
 whole conduct towards the Church of England and towards 
 us, who have striven and are still striving to seek after 
 God for ourselves, and to revive true religion among 
 others, under her authority and guidance, has been gene- 
 rous and considerate, and, were that word appropriate, 
 dutiful, to a degree that I could scarcely have conceived 
 possible, more unsparing of self than I should have thought 
 nature could sustain. I have felt with pain every link 
 
234: HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 that you have severed, and I have asked no questions, 
 because I felt that jou ought to measure the disclosure of 
 your thoughts according to the occasion, and the capacity 
 of those to whom you spoke. I write in haste, in the 
 midst of engagements engrossing in themselves, but partly 
 made tasteless, partly, embittered by what I have heard; 
 but I am willing to trust even you, whom I love best on 
 earth, in God's Hand, in the earnest prayer that you may 
 be so emploj^ed as is best for the Holy Catholic Church." 
 
 In July, a Bishop thought it worth while to give out to 
 the world that *' the adherents of Mr. Newman are few in 
 number. A short time will now probably suffice to prove 
 this fact. It is well known that he is preparing for seces- 
 sion ; and, when that event takes place, it will be seen 
 how few will go with him.'* 
 
 I had begun mj^ Essay on the Development of Doctrine 
 in the beginning of 1845, and I was hard at it all through 
 the year till October. As I advanced, my difficulties so 
 cleared away that I ceased to speak of "the Roman 
 Catholics," and boldly called them Catholics. Before I 
 got to the end, I resolved to be received, and the book 
 remains in the state in which it was then, unfinished. 
 
 One of my friends at Littlemore had been received into 
 the Church on Michaelmas Day, at the Passionist House 
 at Aston, near Stone, by Father Dominic, the Superior. 
 At the beginning of October the latter was passing through 
 London to Belgium ; and, as I was in some perplexity 
 what steps to take for being received myself, I assented 
 to the proposition made to me that the good priest should 
 take Littlemore in his way, with a vievv^ to his doing for me 
 the same charitable service as he had done to my friend. 
 
 On October the 8th I wrote to a number of friends the 
 following letter : — 
 
 " Littlemore, October 8th, 1845. I am this night ex- 
 pecting Father Dominic, the Passionist, who, from his 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 235 
 
 youtli, has been led to have distinct and direct thoughts, 
 first of the countries of the North, then of England. After 
 thirty years' (almost) waiting, he was without his own act 
 sent here. But he has had little to do with conversions. 
 I saw him here for a few minutes on St. John Baptist's 
 day last year. 
 
 " He is a simple, holy man ; and withal gifted with 
 remarkable powers. He does not know of my intention ; 
 but I mean to ask of him admission into the One Fold of 
 Christ. . . . 
 
 " I have so many letters to write, that this must do for 
 all who choose to ask about me. With my best love to 
 dear Charles Marriott, who is over your head, &c., &c. 
 
 *'P.S. This will not go till all is over. Of course it 
 requires no answer." 
 
 For a while after my reception, I proposed to betake 
 myself to some secular calling. I wrote thus in answer to 
 a very gracious letter of congratulation sent me by Car- 
 dinal Acton : — 
 
 "!Nov. 25, 1845. I hope you will have anticipated, be- 
 fore I express it, the great gratification which I received 
 from your Eminence's letter. That gratification, however, 
 was tempered by the apprehension, that kind and anxious 
 well-wishers at a distance attach more importance to my 
 step than really belongs to it. To me indeed personally it 
 is of course an inestimable gain ; but persons and things 
 look great at a distance, which are not so when seen close ; 
 and, did your Eminence know me, you would see that I was 
 one, about whom there has been far more talk for good 
 and bad than he deserves, and about whose movements far 
 more expectation has been raised than the event will 
 justify. 
 
 '^ As I never, I do trust, aimed at any thing else than 
 obedience to my own sense of right, and have been magni- 
 
236 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 
 
 fied into tlie leader of a party without my wishing it or 
 acting as such, so now, much as I may wish to the con- 
 trary, and earnestly as I may labour (as is my duty) to 
 minister in a humble way to the Catholic Church, yet my 
 powers will, I fear, disappoint the expectations of both my 
 own friends, and of those who pray for the peace of Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 " If I might ask of your Eminence a favour, it is that 
 you would kindly moderate those anticipations. Would it 
 were in my power to do, what I do not aspire to do ! At 
 present certainly I cannot look forward to the future, and, 
 though it would be a good work if I could persuade others 
 to do as I have done, yet it seems as if I had quite enough 
 to do in thinking of myself.*' 
 
 Soon, Dr. Wiseman, in whose Vicariate Oxford lay, 
 called me to Oscott ; and I went there with others ; after- 
 wards he sent me to Eome, and finally placed me in Bir- 
 mingham. 
 
 I wrote to a friend : — 
 
 " January 20, 1846. You may think how lonely I am. 
 * Obliviscere populum tuum et domum patris tui,' has been 
 in my ears for the last twelve hours. I realize more that 
 we are leaving Littlemore, and it is like going on the open 
 sea." \ 
 
 I left Oxford for good on Monday, February 23, 1846. 
 On the Saturday and Sunday before, I was in my house at 
 Littlemore simply by myself, as I had been for the first 
 day or two when I had originally taken possession of it. 
 I slept on Sunday night at my dear friend's, Mr. John- 
 son's, at the Observatory. Various friends came to see the 
 last of me ; Mr. Copeland, Mr. Church, Mr. Buckle, Mr. 
 Pattison, and Mr. Lewis. Dr. Pusey too came up to take 
 leave of me ; and I called on Dr. Ogle, one of my very 
 oldest friends, for he was my private Tutor, when I was 
 an Undergraduate. In him I took leave of my first 
 
FROM 1841 TO 1845. 237 
 
 College, Trinity, which was so dear to me, aud which held 
 on its foundation so many who had been kind to me both 
 when I was a boy, and all through my Oxford life. Trinity 
 had never been unkind to me. There used to be much 
 snap-dragon growing on the walls opposite my freshman's 
 rooms there, and I had for years taken it as the emblem 
 of my own perpetual residence even unto death in my 
 University. 
 
 On the morning of the 23rd I left the Observatory. I 
 have never seen Oxford since, excepting its spires, as they 
 are seen from the railway. 
 
238 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 POSITION or MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 From the time that I became a Catholic, of course I have 
 no further history of my religious opinions to narrate. In 
 saying this, I do not mean to say that my mind has been 
 idle, or that I have given up thinking on theological sub- 
 jects; but that I have had no variations to record, and 
 have had no anxiety of heart whatever. I have been in 
 perfect peace and contentment; I never have had one doubt. 
 I was not conscious to myself, on my conversion, of any 
 change, intellectual or moral, wrought in my mind. I was 
 not conscious of firmer faith in the fundamental truths of 
 Revelation, or of more self-command ; I had not more 
 fervour ; but it was like coming into port after a rough 
 sea ; and my happiness on that score remains to this day 
 without interruption. 
 
 Nor had I any trouble about receiving those additional 
 articles, which are not found in the Anglican Creed. 
 Some of them I believed already, but not any one of them 
 was a trial to me. I made a profession of them upon my 
 reception with the greatest ease, and I have the same ease 
 in believing them now. I am far of course from denying 
 that every article of the Christian Creed, whether as held 
 by Catholics or by Protestants, is beset with intellectual 
 difiiculties ; and it is simple fact, that, for myself, I cannot 
 answer those difficulties. Many persons are very sensitive 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 239 
 
 of the difficulties of Religion ; I am as sensitive of them 
 as any one ; but I have never been able to see a connexion 
 between apprehending those difficulties, however keenly, 
 and multiplying them to any extent, and on the other hand 
 doubting the doctrines to which they are attached. Ten 
 thousand difficulties do not make one doubt, as I under- 
 stand the subject; difficulty and doubt are incommensurate. 
 There of course may be difficulties in the evidence ; but I 
 am speaking of difficulties intrinsic to the doctrines them- 
 selves, or to their relations with each other. A man may be 
 annoyed that he cannot work out a mathematical problem, 
 of which the answer is or is not given to him, without doubt- 
 ing that it admits of an answer, or that a certain particular 
 answer is the true one. Of all points of faith, the being of 
 a Grod is, to my own apprehension, encompassed with most 
 difficulty, and yet borne in upon our minds with most power. 
 People sa}^ that the doctrine of Transubstantiation is 
 difficult to believe ; I did not believe the doctrine till I 
 was a Catholic. I had no difficulty in believing it, as soon 
 as I believed that the Catholic Roman Church was the 
 oracle of God, and that she had declared this doctrine to be 
 part of the original revelation. It is difficult, impossible, 
 to imagine, I grant; — but how is it difficult to believe? 
 Yet Macaulay thought it so difficult to believe, that he had 
 need of a believer in it of talents as eminent as Sir Thomas 
 More, before he could bring himself to conceive that the 
 Catholics of an enlightened age could resist ''the over- 
 whelming force of the argument against it." " Sir Thomas 
 More,'' he says, " is one of the choice specimens of wisdom 
 and virtue ; and the doctrine of transubstantiation is a 
 kind of proof charge. A faith which stands that test, will 
 stand any test." But for myself, I cannot indeed prove 
 it, I cannot tell hoio it is ; but I say, " Why should it not 
 be ? What's to hinder it ? What do I know of substance 
 or matter ? just as much as the greatest philosophers, and 
 
240 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 that is nothmg at all;" — so much is this the case, that 
 there is a rising school of philosophy now, which considers 
 phenomena to constitute the whole of our knowledge in 
 physics. The Catholic doctrine leaves phenomena alone. 
 It does not say that the phenomena go ; on the contrary, 
 it says that they remain ; nor does it say that the same 
 phenomena are in several places at once. It deals with 
 what no one on earth knows any thing about, the material 
 substances themselves. And, in like manner, of that ma- 
 jestic Article of the Anglican as well as of the Catholic 
 Creed, — the doctrine of the Trinity in Unity. What do 
 I know of the Essence of the Divine Being ? I know that 
 my abstract idea of three is simply incompatible with my 
 idea of one ; but when I come to the question of concrete 
 fact, I have no means of proving that there is not a sense 
 in which one and three can equally be predicated of the 
 Incommunicable God. 
 
 But I am going to take upon myself the responsibility 
 of more than the mere Creed of the Church ; as the parties 
 accusing me are determined I shall do. They say, that 
 now, in that I am a Catholic, though I may not have 
 offences of my own against honesty to answer for, yet, at 
 least, I am answerable for the offences of others, of my 
 co-religionists, of my brother priests, of the Church her- 
 self. I am quite willing to accept the responsibility ; and, 
 as I have been able, as I trust, by means of a few words, 
 to dissipate, in the minds of all those who do not begin 
 with disbelieving me, the suspicion with which so many 
 Protestants start, in forming their judgment of Catholics, 
 viz. that our Creed is actually set up in inevitable super- 
 stition and hypocrisy, as the original sin of Catholicism ; 
 so now I will proceed, as before, identifying myself with 
 the Church and vindicating it, — not of course denying the 
 enormous mass of sin and error which exists of necessity 
 in that world-wide multiform Communion, — but going to 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 241 
 
 the proof of this one point, that its system is in no sense 
 dishonest, and that therefore the upholders and teachers of 
 that system, as such, have a claim to be acquitted in their 
 own persons of that odious imputation. 
 
 Starting then with the being of a God, (which, as I 
 have said, is as certain to me as the certainty of my own 
 existence, though when I try to put the grounds of that 
 certainty into logical shape I find a difficulty in doing so 
 in mood and figure to my satisfaction,) I look out of 
 myself into the world of mjen, and there I see a sight 
 which fills me with unspeakable distress. The world 
 seems simply to give the lie to that great truth, of which 
 my whole being is so full ; and the efiect upon me is, in 
 consequence, as a matter of necessity, as confusing as if it 
 denied that I am in existence myself. If I looked into a 
 mirror, and did not see my face, I should have the sort of 
 feeling which actually comes upon me, when I look into 
 this living busy world, and see no reflexion of its Creator. 
 This is, to me, one of those great difficulties of this absolute 
 primary truth, to which I referred just now. 'Were it not 
 for this voice, speaking so clearly in my conscience and 
 my heart, I should be an atheist, or a pantheist, or a poly- 
 theist when I looked into the world. I am speaking for 
 myself only ; and I am far from denying the real force of 
 the arguments in proof of a God, drawn from the general 
 facts of human society and the course of history, but these 
 do not warm me or enlighten me ; they do not take away 
 the winter of my desolation, or make the buds unfold and 
 the leaves grow within me, and my moral being rejoice. 
 The sight of the world is nothing else than the prophet's 
 scroll, full of " lamentations, and mourning, and woe." 
 
 To consider the world in its length and breadth, its 
 various history, the many races of man, their starts, their 
 fortunes, their mutual alienation, their conflicts ; and then 
 
 R 
 
242 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 their ways, habits, gOYernments, forms of worship ; their 
 enterprises, their aimless courses, their random achieve- 
 ments and acquirements, the impotent conclusion of 
 long-standing facts, the tokens so faint and broken of a 
 superintending design, the blind evolution of what turn 
 out to be great powers or truths, the progress of things, 
 as if from unreasoning elements, not towards final causes, 
 the greatness and littleness of man, his far-reaching aims, 
 his short duration, the curtain hung over his futurity, the 
 disappointments of life, the defeat of good, the success of 
 evil, physical pain, mental anguish, the prevalence and 
 intensity of sin, the pervading idolatries, the corruptions, 
 the dreary hopeless irreligion, that condition of the whole 
 race, so fearfully yet exactly described in the Apostle's 
 words, *' having no hope and without God in the world," 
 — all this is a vision to dizzy and appal ; and inflicts upon 
 the mind the sense of a profound mystery, which is abso- 
 lutely beyond human solution. 
 
 What shall be said to this heart-piercing, reason-bewil- 
 dering fact ? I can only answer, that either there is no 
 Creator, or this living society of men is in a true sense 
 discarded from His presence. Did I see a boy of good 
 make and mind, with the tokens on him of a refined 
 nature, cast upon the world without provision, unable to 
 say whence he came, his birth-place or his family con- 
 nexions, I should conclude that there was some mystery 
 connected with his history, and that he was one, of whom, 
 from one cause or other, his parents were ashamed. Thus 
 only should I be able to account for the contrast between 
 the promise and the condition of his being. And so I 
 argue about the world ; — //"there be a God, since there is a 
 God, the human race is implicated in some terrible abori- 
 ginal calamity. It is out of joint with the purposes of its 
 Creator. This is a fact, a fact as true as the fact of its 
 existence ; and thus the doctrine of what is theologically 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 243 
 
 called original sin becomes to me almost as certain as that 
 the world exists, and as the existence of God. 
 
 And now, supposing it were the blessed and loving will 
 of the Creator to interfere in this anarchical condition of 
 things, what are we to suppose would be the methods 
 which might be necessarily or naturally involved in His 
 purpose of mercy ? Since the world is in so abnormal a 
 state, surely it would be no surprise to me, if .the inter- 
 position were of necessity equally extraordinary— or what 
 is called miraculous. But that subject does not directly 
 come into the scope of my present remarks. Miracles as 
 evidence, involve a process of reason, or an argument ; and 
 of course I am thinking of some mode of interference 
 which does not immediately run into argument. I am 
 rather asking what must be the face-to-face antagonist, by 
 which to withstand and baffle the fierce energy of passion 
 and the all- corroding, all- dissolving scepticism of th'e in- 
 tellect in religious inquiries ? I have no intention at all 
 of denying, that truth is the real object of our reason, and 
 that, if it does not attain to truth, either the premiss or 
 the process is in fault ; but I am not speaking here of 
 right reason, but of reason as it acts in fact and concretely 
 in fallen man. I know that even the unaided reason, when 
 correctly exercised, leads to a belief in God, in the immor- 
 tality of the soul, and in a future retribution ; but I am 
 considering the faculty of reason actually and historically; 
 and in this point of view, I do not think I am wrong in 
 saying that its tendency is towards a simple unbelief in 
 matters of religion. No truth, however sacred, can stand 
 against it, in the long run ; and hence it is that in the 
 pagan world, when our Lord came, the last traces of the 
 religious knowledge of former times were all but disap- 
 pearing from those portions of the world in which the 
 intellect had been active and had had a career. 
 
 And in these latter days, in like manner, outside the 
 
244 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 Catholic Churcli things are tending, — with far greater rapi- 
 dity than in that old time from the circumstance of the 
 age, — to atheism in one shape or other. What a scene, 
 what a prospect, does the whole of Europe present at this 
 day ! and not only Europe, but every government and 
 every civilization through the world, which is under the 
 influence of the European mind ! Especially, for it most 
 concerns us, how sorrowful, in the view of religion, even 
 taken in its most elementary, most attenuated form, is 
 the spectacle presented to us by the educated intellect of 
 England, France, and Germany ! Lovers of their country 
 and of their race, religious men, external to the Catholic 
 Church, have attempted various expedients to arrest fierce 
 wilful human nature in its onward course, and to bring it 
 into subjection. The necessity of some form of religion 
 for the interests of humanity, has been generally acknow- 
 ledged : but where was the concrete representative of 
 things invisible, which would have the force and the 
 toughness necessary to be a breakwater against the 
 deluge ? Three centuries ago the establishment of reli- 
 gion, material, legal, and social, was generally adopted as 
 the best expedient for the purpose, in those countries 
 which separated from the Catholic Church ; and for a long 
 time it was successful ; but now the crevices of those 
 establishments are admitting the enemy. Thirty years 
 ago, education was relied upon : ten years ago there was a 
 hope that wars would cease for ever, under the influence of 
 commercial enterprise and the reign of the useful and fine 
 arts ; but will any one venture to say that there is any 
 thing any where on this earth, which will afibrd a fulcrum 
 for us, whereby to keep the earth from moving onwards ? 
 
 The judgment, which experience passes whether on 
 establishments or on education, as a means of maintaining 
 religious truth in this anarchical world, must be extended 
 even to Scripture, though Scripture be divine. Experience 
 
 yrom "t^® 
 
 Library of 
 
 Xi. W. McGratb, J^- 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 245 
 
 proves surely that the Bible does not answer a purpose for 
 which it was never intended. It may be accidentally the 
 means of the conversion of individuals ; but a book, after 
 all, cannot make a stand against the wild living intellect 
 of man, and in this day it begins to testify, as regards its 
 own structure and contents, to the power of that universal 
 solvent, which is so successfully acting upon religious 
 establishments. 
 
 Supposing then it to be the "Will of the Creator to inter- 
 fere in human affairs, and to make provisions for retaining 
 in the world a knowledge of Himself, so definite and dis- 
 tinct as to be proof against the energy of human scepti- 
 cism, in such a case, — I am far from saying that there was 
 no other way, — but there is nothing to surprise the mind, 
 if He should think fit to introduce a power into the world, 
 invested with the prerogative of infallibility in religious 
 matters. Such a provision would be a direct, immediate, 
 active, and prompt means of withstanding the difficulty ; 
 it would be an instrument suited to the need ; and, when 
 I find that this is the very claim of the Catholic Church, 
 not only do I feel no difficulty in admitting the idea, but 
 there is a fitness in it, which recommends it to my mind. 
 And thus I am brought to speak of the Church's infalli- 
 bility, as a provision, adapted by the mercy of the Creator, 
 to preserve religion in the world, and to restrain that free- 
 dom of thought, which of course in itself is one of the 
 greatest of our natural gifts, and to rescue it from its own 
 suicidal excesses. And let it be observed that, neither 
 here nor in what follows, shall I have occasion to speak 
 directly of Eevelation in its subject-matter, but in reference 
 to the sanction which it gives to truths which may be 
 known independently of it, — as it bears upon the defence 
 of natural religion. I say, that a power, possessed of in- 
 fallibility in religious teaching, is happily adapted to be a 
 working instrument, in the course of human afiairs, for 
 
246 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 smiting hard and throwing back the immense energy of 
 the aggressive, capricious, untrustworthy intellect : — and 
 in saying this, as in the other things that I have to say, 
 it must still be recollected that I am all along bearing in 
 mind my main purpose, which is a defence of myself. 
 
 I am defending myself here from a plausible charge 
 brought against Catholics, as will be seen better as I pro- 
 ceed. The charge is this : — that I, as a Catholic, not only 
 make profession to hold doctrines which I cannot possibly 
 believe in my heart, but that I also believe in the existence 
 of a power on earth, which at its own will imposes upon 
 men any new set of credenda, when it pleases, by a claim 
 to infallibility ; in consequence, that my own thoughts are 
 not my own property ; that I cannot tell that to-morrow I 
 may not have to give up what I hold to-day, and that the 
 necessary effect of such a condition of mind must be a 
 degrading bondage, or a bitter inward rebellion relieving 
 itself in secret infidelity, or the necessity of ignoring the 
 whole subject of religion in a sort of disgust, and of me- 
 chanically saying every thing that the Church says, and 
 leaving to others the defence of it. As then I have above 
 spoken of the relation of my mind towards the Catholic 
 Creed, so now I shall speak of the attitude which it takes 
 up in the view of the Church's infallibility. 
 
 And first, the initial doctrine of the infallible teacher 
 must be an emphatic protest against the existing state of 
 mankind. Man had rebelled against his Maker. It was 
 this that caused the divine interposition : and to proclaim 
 it must be the first act of the divinely-accredited messen- 
 ger. The Church must denounce rebellion as of all possible 
 evils the greatest. She must have no terms with it ; if 
 she would be true to her Master, she must ban and ana- 
 thematize it. This is the meaning of a statement of mine, 
 which has furnished matter for one of those special accu- 
 sations to which I am at present replying : I have, how- 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 247 
 
 ever, no fault at all to confess in regard to it ; I have 
 nothing to withdraw, and in consequence I here delibe- 
 rately repeat it. I said, " The Catholic Church holds it 
 better for the sun and moon to drop from heaven, for the 
 earth to fail, and for all the many millions on it to die of 
 starvation in extremest agony, as far as temporal affliction 
 goes, than that one soul, I will not say, should be lost, but 
 should commit one single venial sin, should tell one wilful 
 untruth, or should steal one poor farthing without excuse." 
 I think the principle here enunciated to be the mere pre- 
 amble in the formal credentials of the Catholic Church, as 
 an Act of Parliament might begin with a " Whereas." 
 It is because of the intensity of the evil which has pos- 
 session of mankind, that a suitable antagonist has been 
 provided against it ; and the initial act of that divinely- 
 commissioned power is of course to deliver her challenge 
 and to defy the enemy. Such a preamble then gives a 
 meaning to her position in the world, and an interpreta- 
 tion to her whole course of teaching and actiou. 
 
 In like manner she has ever put forth, with most ener- 
 getic distinctness, those other great elementary truths, 
 which either are an explanation of her mission or give a 
 character to her work. She does not teach that human 
 nature is irreclaimable, else wherefore should she be sent ? 
 not, that it is to be shattered and reversed, but to be ex- 
 tricated, purified, and restored ; not, that it is a mere mass 
 of hopeless evil, but that it has the promise upon it of great 
 things, and even now, in its present state of disorder and 
 excess, has a virtue and a praise proper to itself. But 
 in the next place she knows and she preaches that such a 
 restoration, as she aims at effecting in it, must be brought 
 about, not simply through certain outward provisions of 
 preaching and teaching, even though they be her own, but 
 from an inward spiritual power or grace imparted directly 
 from above, and of which she is the channel. She has 
 
248 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 it in charge to rescue human nature from its misery, 
 but not simply by restoring it on its own level, but by 
 lifting it up to a higher level than its own. She recog- 
 nizes in it real moral excellence though degraded, but she 
 cannot set it free from earth except by exalting it towards 
 heaven. It was for this end that a renovating grace was 
 put into her hands ; and therefore from the nature of the 
 gift, as well as from the reasonableness of the case, she 
 goes on, as a further point, to insist, that all true conver- 
 sion must begin with the first springs of thought, and to 
 teach that each individual man must be in his own person 
 one whole and perfect temple of God, while he is also one 
 of the living stones which build up a visible religious com- 
 munity. And thus the distinctions between nature and 
 grace, and between outward and inward religion, become 
 two further articles in what I have called the preamble of 
 her divine commission. 
 
 Such truths as these she vigorously reiterates, and per- 
 tinaciously inflicts upon mankind ; as to such she observes 
 no half- measures, no economical reserve, no delicacy or 
 prudence. " Ye must be born again," is the simple, direct 
 form of words which she uses after her Divine Master : 
 " your whole nature must be re-born ; your passions, and 
 your affections, and your aims, and your conscience, and 
 your will, must all be bathed in a new element, and recon- 
 secrated to your Maker, — and, the last not the least, your 
 intellect." It was for repeating these points of her teach- 
 ing in my own way, that certain passages of one of my 
 Volumes have been brought into the general accusation 
 which has been made against my religious opinions. The 
 writer has said that I was demented if I believed, and un- 
 principled if I did not believe, in my own statement, that a 
 lazy, ragged, filthy, story-telling beggar-woman, if chaste, 
 sober, cheerful, and religious, had a prospect of heaven, 
 such as was absolutely closed to an accomplished statesman. 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 249 
 
 or lawyer, or noble, be he ever so just, upright, generous, 
 honourable, and conscientious, unless he had also some 
 portion of the divine Christian graces ; — yet I should have 
 thought myself defended from criticism by the words which 
 our Lord used to the chief priests, " The publicans and 
 harlots go into the kingdom of God before you.'^ And I 
 was subjected again to the same alternative of imputations, 
 for having ventured to say that consent to an unchaste 
 wish was indefinitely more heinous than any lie viewed 
 apart from its causes, its motives, and its consequences : 
 though a lie, viewed under the limitation of these condi- 
 tions, is a random utterance, an almost outward act, not 
 directly from the heart, however disgraceful and despicable 
 it may be, however prejudicial to the social contract, how- 
 ever deserving of public reprobation ; whereas we have the 
 express words of our Lord to the doctrine that " whoso 
 looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed 
 adultery with her already in his heart." On the strength 
 of these texts, I have surely as much right to believe in 
 these doctrines which have caused so much surprise, as to 
 believe in original sin, or that there is a supernatural reve- 
 lation, or that a Divine Person suffered, or that punishment 
 is eternal. 
 
 Passing now from what I have called the preamble of 
 that grant of power, which is made to the Church, to that 
 power itself. Infallibility, I premise two brief remarks : — 1. 
 on the one hand, I am not here determining any thing about 
 the essential seat of that power, because that is a question 
 doctrinal, not historical and practical ; 2. nor, on the other 
 hand, am I extending the direct subject-matter, over which 
 that power of Infallibility has jurisdiction, beyond religious 
 opinion : — and now as to the power itself. 
 
 This power, viewed in its fulness, is as tremendous as 
 the giant evil which has called for it. It claims, when 
 brought into exercise but in the legitimate manner, for 
 
250 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 otherwise of course it is but quiescent, to know for cer- 
 tain the very meaning of every portion of that Divine 
 Message in detail, which was committed by our Lord to 
 His Apostles. It claims to know its own limits, and to 
 decide what it can determine absolutely and what it cannot. 
 It claims, moreover, to have a hold i\pon statements not 
 directly religious, so far as this, — to determine whether 
 they indirectly relate to religion, and, according to its own 
 definitive judgment, to pronounce whether or not, in a par- 
 ticular case, they are simply consistent w4th revealed truth. 
 It claims to decide magisterially, whether as within its own 
 province or not, that such and such statements are or are not 
 prejudicial to the Depositum of faith, in their spirit or in their 
 consequences, and to allow them, or condemn and forbid 
 them, accordingly. It claims to impose silence at will on 
 any matters, or controversies, of doctrine, which on its ow^n 
 ipse dixit J it pronounces to be dangerous, or inexpedient, or 
 inopportune. It claims that, whatever may be the judg- 
 ment of Catholics upon such acts, these acts should be re- 
 ceived by them with those outward marks of reverence, 
 submission, and loyalty, which Englishmen, for instance, 
 pay to the presence of their sovereign, without expressing 
 any criticism on them on the ground that in their matter 
 they are inexpedient, or in their manner violent or harsh. 
 And lastly, it claims to have the right of inflicting spiritual 
 punishment, of cutting off from the ordinary channels of 
 the divine life, and of simply excommunicating, those who 
 refuse to submit themselves to its formal declarations. 
 Such is the infallibility lodged in the Catholic Church, 
 viewed in the concrete, as clothed and surrounded by the 
 appendages of its high sovereignty : it is, to repeat what I 
 said above, a supereminent prodigious power sent upon 
 earth to encounter and master a giant evil. 
 
 And now, having thus described it, I profess my own 
 absolute submission to its claim. I believe the whole re- 
 
POSITION OF MY MIjS'D SINCE 1845. 251 
 
 vealed dogma as taught by the Apostles, as committed by 
 the Apostles to the Church, and as declared by the Church 
 to me. I receive it, as it is infallibly interpreted by the 
 authority to whom it is thus committed, and (implicitly) 
 as it shall be, in like manner, further interpreted by that 
 same authority till the end of time. I submit, moreover, 
 to the universally received traditions of the Church, in 
 which lies the matter of those new dogmatic definitions 
 which are from time to time made, and which in all times 
 are the clothing and the illustration of the Catholic dogma 
 as already defined. And I submit myself to those other 
 decisions of the Holy See, theological or not, through the 
 organs which it has itself appointed, which, waiving the 
 question of their infallibility, on the lowest ground come 
 to me with a claim to be accepted and obeyed. Also, I 
 consider that, gradually and in the course of ages. Catholic 
 inquiry has taken certain definite shapes, and has thrown 
 itself into the form of a science, with a method and a 
 phraseology of its own, under the intellectual handling of 
 great minds, such as St. Athanasius, St. Augustine, and 
 St. Thomas ; and I feel no temptation at all to break in 
 pieces the great legacy of thought thus committed to us 
 for these latter days. 
 
 All this being considered as the profession which I make 
 ex animoy as for myself, so also on the part of the Catholic 
 body, as far as I know it, it will at first sight be said that 
 the restless intellect of our common humanity is utterly 
 weighed down, to the repression of all independent efib rt 
 and action whatever, so that, if this is to be the mode of 
 bringing it into order, it is brought into order only to be 
 destroyed. But this is far from the result, far from what 
 I conceive to be the intention of that high Providence who 
 has provided a great remedy for a great evil, — far from 
 borne out by the history of the conflict between Infalli- 
 bilitj^ and Reason in the past, and the prospect of it in the 
 
252 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 future. Tlie energy of the human intellect "does from 
 opposition grow ;'' it thrives and is joyous, with a tough 
 elastic strength, under the terrible blows of the divinel}^- 
 fashioned weapon, and is never so much itself as when it 
 has lately been overthrown. It is the custom with Pro- 
 testant writers to consider that, whereas there are two 
 great principles in action in the history of religion, 
 Authority and Private Judgment, they have all the Private 
 Judgment to themselves, and we have the full inheritance 
 and the superincumbent oppression of Authority. But 
 this is not so ; it is the vast Catholic body itself, and it 
 only, which affords an arena for both combatants in that 
 awful, never-dying duel. It is necessary for the very life 
 of religion, viewed in its large operations and its history, 
 that the warfare should be incessantly carried on. Every 
 exercise of Infallibility is brought out into act by an intense 
 and varied operation of the Peason, both as its ally and as 
 its opponent, and provokes again, when it has done its work, 
 a re-action of Reason against it ; and, as in a civil polity 
 the State exists and endures by means of the rivalry and 
 collision, the encroachments and defeats of its constituent 
 parts, so in like manner Catholic Christendom is no simple 
 exhibition of religious absolutism, but presents a continuous 
 picture of Authority and Private Judgment alternately 
 advancing and retreating as the ebb and flow of the tide ; — 
 it is a vast assemblage of human beings with wilful intel- 
 lects and wild passions, brought together into one by the 
 beauty and the Majesty of a Superhuman Power, — into 
 what may be called a large reformatory or training-school, 
 not as if into a hospital or into a prison, not in order to be 
 sent to bed, not to be buried alive, but (if I may change 
 my metaphor) brought together as if into some moral fac- 
 tory, for the melting, refining, and moulding, by an inces- 
 sant, noisy process, of the raw material of human nature, 
 so excellent, so dangerous, so capable of divine purposes. 
 
POSITION OF MY MIXD SINCE 1845. 253 
 
 St. Paul sd.js in one place that his Apostolical power is 
 given him to edification, and not to destruction. There 
 can be no better account of the Infallibility of the Church. 
 It is a supply for a need, and it does not go beyond that 
 need. Its object is, and its effect also, not to enfeeble the 
 freedom or vigour of human thought in religious specula- 
 tion, but to resist and control its extravagance. What 
 have been its great works ? All of them in the distinct 
 province of theology :— to put down Arianism, Eutychi- 
 anism, Pelagianism, Manichaeism, Lutheranism, Jansenism. 
 Such is the broad result of its action in the past ; — and now 
 as to the securities which are given us that so it ever will 
 act in time to come. 
 
 First, Infallibility cannot act outside of a definite circle 
 of thought, and it must in all its decisions, or definitionSy 
 as they are called, profess to be keeping within it. The 
 great truths of the moral law, of natural religion, and of 
 Apostolical faith, are both its boundary and its foundation. 
 It must not go beyond them, and it must ever appeal to 
 them. Both its subject-matter, and its articles in that 
 subject-matter, are fixed. And it must ever profess to be 
 guided by Scripture and by tradition. It must refer to 
 the particular Apostolic truth which it is enforcing, or 
 (what is called) defining. Nothing, then, can be presented 
 to me, in time to come, as part of the faith, but what I 
 ought already to have received, and hitherto have been 
 kept from receiving, (if so,) merely because it has not been 
 brought home to me. Nothing can be imposed upon me 
 difierent in kind from what I hold already, — much less 
 contrary to it. The new truth which is promulgated, if it 
 is to be called new, must be at least homogeneous, cognate, 
 implicit, viewed relatively to the old truth. It must be 
 what I may even have guessed, or wished, to be included 
 in the Apostolic revelation ; and at least it will be of such 
 
254 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 a character, that my thoughts readily concur in it or 
 coalesce with it, as soon as I hear it. Perhaps I and others 
 actually have always believed it, and the only question 
 which is now decided in my behalf, is, that I have hence- 
 forth the satisfaction of having to believe, that I have only 
 been holding all along what the Apostles held before me. 
 
 Let me take the doctrine which Protestants consider our 
 greatest difficulty, that of the Immaculate Conception. 
 Here I entreat the reader to recollect my main drift, which 
 is this. I have no difficulty in receiving the doctrine ; and 
 that, because it so intimately harmonizes with that circle of 
 recognized dogmatic truths, into which it has been recently 
 received ; — but if / have no difficulty, why may not another 
 have no difficulty also? why may not a hundred? a 
 thousand ? Now I am sure that Catholics in general have 
 not any intellectual difficulty at all on the subject of the 
 Immaculate Conception ; and that there is no reason why 
 they should. Priests have no difficulty. You tell me 
 that they ought to have a difficulty ; — but they have not. 
 Be large-minded enough to believe, that men may reason 
 and feel very differently from yourselves ; how is it that 
 men, when left to themselves, fall into such various forms 
 of religion, except that there are various types of mind 
 among them, very distinct from each other ? From my 
 testimony then about myself, if you believe it, judge of 
 others also who are Catholics : we do not find the difficul- 
 ties which you do in the doctrines which we hold ; we have 
 no intellectual difficulty in that doctrine in particular, 
 which you call a novelty of this day. We priests need not 
 be hypocrites, though we be called upon to believe in the 
 Immaculate Conception. To that large class of minds, 
 who believe in Christianity after our manner, — in the par- 
 ticular temper, spirit, and light, (whatever word is used,) 
 in which Catholics believe it, — there is no burden at all in 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 255 
 
 holding that the Blessed Virgin was conceived without 
 original sin ; indeed, it is a simple fact to say, that 
 CathoKcs have not come to believe it because it is defined, 
 but that it was defined because they believed it. 
 
 So far from the definition in 1854 being a tyrannical in- 
 fliction on. the Catholic world, it was received every where 
 on its promulgation with the greatest enthusiasm. It was 
 in consequence of the unanimous petition, presented from 
 all parts of the Church to the Holy See, in behalf of an ex 
 cathedra declaration that the doctrine was Apostolic, that 
 it was declared so to be. I never heard of one Catholic 
 having difiiculties in receiving the doctrine, whose faith on 
 other grounds was not already suspicious. Of course there 
 were grave and good men, who were made anxious by the 
 doubt whether it could be formally proved to be Apostolical 
 either by Scripture or tradition, and who accordingly, 
 though believing it themselves, did not see how it could 
 be defined by authority and imposed upon all Catholics as 
 a matter of faith ; but this is another matter. The point 
 in question is, whether the doctrine is a burden. I believe 
 it to be none. So far from it being so, I sincerely think 
 that St. Bernard and St. Thomas, who scrupled at it in 
 their day, had they lived into this, would have rejoiced to 
 accept it for its own sake. Their difficulty, as I view it, 
 consisted in matters of words, ideas, and arguments. They 
 thought the doctrine inconsistent with other doctrines ; 
 and those who defended it in that age had not that preci- 
 sion in their view of it, which has been attained by means 
 of the long disputes of the centuries which followed. And 
 in this want of precision lay the difierence of opinion, and 
 the controversy. 
 
 Now the instance which I have been taking suggests 
 another remark ; the number of those (so called) new doc- 
 trines will not oppress us, if it takes eight centuries to pro- 
 mulgate even one of them. Such is about the length of 
 
256 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 time througli which the preparation has been carried on 
 for the definition of the Immaculate Conception. This of 
 course is an extraordinary case ; bi:t it is difficult to say 
 what is ordinary, considering how few are the formal 
 occasions on which the voice of Infallibility has been 
 solemnly lifted up. It is to the Pope in Ecumenical 
 Council that we look, as to the normal seat of Infallibility : 
 now there have been only eighteen such Councils since 
 Christianity was, — an average of one to a century, — 
 and of these Councils some passed no doctrinal decree at 
 all, others were employed on only one, and many of them 
 were concerned with only elementary points of the Creed. 
 The Council of Trent embraced a large field of doctrine 
 certainly ; but I should apply to its Canons a remark con- 
 tained in that University Sermon of mine, which has been 
 so ignorantly criticized in the Pamphlet which has been 
 the occasion of this Volume ; — I there have said that the 
 various verses of the Athanasian Creed are only repetitions 
 in various shapes of one and the same idea ; and in like 
 manner, the Tridentine Decrees are not isolated from each 
 other, but are occupied in bringing out in detail, by a 
 number of separate declarations, as if into bodily form, a 
 few necessary truths. I should make the same remark on 
 the various theological censures, promulgated by Popes, 
 which the Church has received, and on their dogmatic deci- 
 sions generall3^ I own that at first sight those decisions 
 seem from their number to be a greater burden on the faith 
 of individuals than are the Canons of Councils ; still I do not 
 believe that in matter of fact they are so at all, and I give 
 this reason for it : — it is not that a Catholic, layman or 
 priest, is indifferent to the subject, or, from a sort of reck- 
 lessness, will accept any thing that is placed before him, 
 or is willing, like a lawyer, to speak according to his brief, 
 but that in such condemnations the Holy See is engaged, 
 for the most part, in repudiating one or two great lines of 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 257 
 
 error, sucli as Lutheranism or Jansenism, principall}^ ethi- 
 cal not doctrinal, which are divergent from the Catholic 
 mind, and that it is but expressing what any good Catholic, 
 of fair abilities, though unlearned, would say himself, from 
 common and sound sense, if the matter could be put before 
 him. 
 
 Now I will go on in fairness to say what I think is the 
 great trial to the Eeason, when confronted with that august 
 prerogative of the Catholic Church, of which I have been 
 speaking. I enlarged just now upon the concrete shape 
 and circumstances, under which pure infallible authority 
 presents itself to the Catholic. That authority has the 
 prerogative of an indirect jurisdiction on subject-matters 
 which lie beyond its own proper limits, and it most reason- 
 ably has such a jurisdiction. It could not act in its own 
 province, unless it had a right to act out of it. It could 
 not properly defend religious truth, without claiming for 
 that truth what may be called its pomceria; or, to take 
 another illustration, without acting as we act, as a nation, 
 in claiming as our own, not only the land on which we 
 live, but what are called British waters. The Catholic 
 Church claims, not only to judge infallibly on religious 
 questions, but to animadvert on opinions in secular mat- 
 ters which bear upon religion, on matters of philosophy, 
 of science, of literature, of history, and it demands our 
 submission to her claim. It claims to censure books, to 
 silence authors, and to forbid discussions. In this -pvo- 
 vince, taken as a whole, it does not so much speak doc- 
 trinally, as enforce measures of discipline. It must of 
 course be obeyed without a word, and perhaps in process 
 of time it will tacitly recede from its own injunctions. In 
 such cases the question of faith does not come in at all ; 
 for what is matter of faith is true for all times, and never 
 can be unsaid. I^or does it at all follow, because there is 
 a gift of infallibility in the Catholic Church, that therefore 
 
2oS POSITION OF MY MIXD SIXCE 1S45. 
 
 the parties who are in possession of it are in all their pro- 
 ceedings infallible. " 0, it is excellent/' says the poet, 
 " to have a giant's strength, but tyrannous, to use it like a 
 giant." I think history supplies us with instances in the 
 Church, where legitimate power has been harshly used. 
 To make such admission is no more than saying that the 
 divine treasure, in the words of the Apostle, is "in earthen 
 vessels;" nor does it follow that the substance of the acts 
 of the ruling power is not right and expedient, because its 
 manner may have been faulty. Such high authorities act 
 by means of instruments ; we know how such instruments 
 claim for themselves the name of their principals, who 
 thus get the credit of faults which really are not theirs. 
 But granting all this to an extent greater than can with 
 any show of reason be imputed to the ruling power in the 
 Church, what difficulty is there in the fact of this want of 
 prudence or moderation more than can be urged, with far 
 greater justice, against Protestant communities and in- 
 stitutions ? What is there in it to make us hypocrites, if 
 it has not that effect upon Protestants? We are called 
 upon, not to profess any thing, but to submit and be silent, 
 as Protestant Churchmen have before now obeyed the royal 
 command to abstain from certain theological questions. 
 Such injunctions as I have been contemplating are laid 
 merely upon our actions, not upon our thoughts. How, for 
 instance, does it tend to make a man a hypocrite, to be for- 
 bidden to publish a libel ? his thoughts are as free as before : 
 authoritative prohibitions may tease and irritate, but they 
 have no bearing whatever upon the exercise of reason. 
 
 So much at first sight ; but I will go on to say further, 
 that, in spite of all that the most hostile critic may urge 
 about the encroachments or severities of high ecclesiastics, 
 in times past, in the use of their power, I think that the 
 event has sho'wn after all, that they were mainly in the right, 
 and that those whom they were hard upon were mainly 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 259 
 
 in the wrong. I love, for instance, the name of Orlgen : 
 I will not listen to the notion that so great a soul was lost ; 
 but I am quite sure that, in the contest between his doc- 
 trine and followers and the ecclesiastical power, his oppo- 
 nents were right, and he was wrong. Yet who can speak 
 with patience of his enemy and the enemy of St. John 
 Chrysostom, that Theophilus, bishop of Alexandria ? who 
 can admire or revere Pope Yigilius ? And here another 
 consideration presents itself to my thoughts. In reading 
 ecclesiastical history, when I was an Anglican, it used to 
 be forcibly brought home to me, how the initial error of 
 what afterwarcis became heres}^ was the urging forward 
 some truth agaii^st the prohibition of authority at an un- 
 seasonable time. There is a time for every thing, and 
 many a man desires a reformation of an abuse, or the 
 fuller development of a doctrine, or the adoption of a 
 particular policy, but forgets to ask himself whether the 
 right time for it is come ; and, knowing that there is no 
 one who will be doing any thing towards its accomplish- 
 ment in his own lifetime unless he does it himself, he will 
 not listen to the voice of authority, and he spoils a good 
 work in his own century, in order that another man, as 
 yet unborn, may not have the opportunity of bringing it 
 happily to perfection in the next. He may seem to the 
 world to be nothing else than a bold champion for the 
 truth and a martyr to free opinion, when he is just one 
 of those persons whom the competent authority ought to 
 silence; and, though the case may not fall within that 
 subject-matter in which that authority is infallible, or the 
 formal conditions of the exercise of that gift may be want- 
 ing, it is clearly the duty of authority to act vigorously in 
 the case. Yet its act will go down to posterity as an 
 instance of a tyrannical interference with private judg- 
 ment, and of the silencing of i\, reformer, and of a base 
 love of corruption or error ; and it will show still less to 
 
260 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 advantage, if tlie ruling power happens in its proceedings 
 to evince any defect of prudence or consideration. And 
 all those who take the part of that ruling authority will 
 be considered as time-servers, or indifferent to the cause of 
 uprightness and truth ; while, on the other hand, the said 
 authority may be accidentally supported by a violent ultra 
 party, which exalts opinions into dogmas, and has it prin- 
 cipally at heart to destroy every school of thought but its 
 own. 
 
 Such a state of things may be provoking and discourag- 
 ing at the time, in the case of two classes of persons ; of 
 moderate men who wish to make differences in religious 
 opinion as little as they fairly can be made ; and of such 
 as keenly perceive, and are honestly eager to remedy, 
 existing evils, — evils, of which divines in this or that 
 foreign country know nothing at all, and which even at 
 home, where they exist, it is not every one who has the 
 means of estimating. This is a state of things both of 
 past time and of the present. "We live in a wonderful 
 age ; the enlargement of the circle of secular knowledge 
 just now is simply a bewilderment, and the more so, be- 
 cause it has the promise of continuing, and that with 
 greater rapidity, and more signal results. Now these dis- 
 coveries, certain or probable, have in matter of fact an 
 indirect bearing upon religious opinions, and the question 
 arises how are the respective claims of revelation and of 
 natural science to be adjusted. Few minds in earnest can 
 remain at ease without some sort of rational grounds for 
 their religious belief; to reconcile theory and fact is 
 almost an instinct of the mind. When then a flood of 
 facts, ascertained or suspected, comes pouring in upon us, 
 with a multitude of others in prospect, all believers in 
 Revelation, be they Catholic or not, are roused to consider 
 their bearing upon themselves, both for the honour of God, 
 and from tenderness for those many souls who, in conse- 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 261 
 
 qnence of the confident tone of the schools of secular 
 knowledge, are in danger of being led away into a bottom- 
 less liberalism of thought. 
 
 I am not going to criticize here that vast body of men, 
 in the mass, who at this time would profess to be liberals 
 in religion ; and who look towards the discoveries of the 
 age, certain or in progress, as their informants, direct or 
 indirect, as to what the}^ shall think about the unseen and 
 the future. The Liberalism which gives a colour to society 
 now, is very different from that character of thought w^hich 
 bore the name thirty or forty years ago. Now it is scarcely 
 a party ; it is the educated leij w^orld. When I was young, 
 I knew the word first as giving name to a periodical, set 
 up by Lord Byron and others. Now, as then, I have no 
 sympathy with the philosophy of Byron. Afterwards, 
 Liberalism was the badge of a theological school, of a dry 
 and repulsive character, not very dangerous in itself, 
 though dangerous as opening the door to evils which it 
 did not itself either anticipate or comprehend. At present 
 it is nothing else than that deep, plausible scepticism, of 
 which I spoke above, as being the development of human 
 reason, as practically exercised by the natural man. 
 
 The Liberal religionists of this day are a very mixed 
 body, and therefore I am not intending to speak against 
 them. There may be, and doubtless is, in the hearts of 
 some or many of them a real antipathy or anger against 
 revealed truth, which it is distressing to think of. Again ; 
 in many men of science or literature there may be an 
 animosity arising from almost a personal feeling ; it being 
 a matter of part}^, a point of honour, the excitement of a 
 game, or a satisfaction to the soreness or annoyance occa- 
 sioned by the acrimony or narrowness of apologists for 
 religion, to prove that Christianity or that Scripture is un- 
 trustworthy. Manj^ scientific and literary men, on the other 
 hand, go on, I am confident, in a straightforward impartial 
 
262 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 way, in tlieir own province and on tlieir own line of 
 thought, without any disturbance from religious difficulties 
 in themselves, or any wish at all to give pain to others by 
 the result of their investigations. It would ill become me, 
 as if I were afraid of truth of any kind, to blame those 
 who pursue secular facts, by means of the reason which 
 God has given them, to their logical conclusions : or to be 
 angry with science, because religion is bound in duty to 
 take cognizance of its teaching. But putting these parti- 
 cular classes of men aside, as having no special call on the 
 sympathy of the Catholic, of course he does most deeply 
 enter into the feelings of a fourth and large class of men, 
 in the educated portions of society, of religious and sincere 
 minds, who are simply perplexed, — frightened or rendered 
 desperate, as the case may be, — by the utter confusion into 
 which late discoveries or speculations have thrown their 
 most elementary ideas of religion. Who does not feel for 
 such men ? who can have one unkind thought of them ? 
 I take up in their behalf St. Augustine's beautiful words, 
 " Illi in vos sseviant,'* &c. Let them be fierce with you 
 who have no experience of the difficulty with which error 
 is discriminated from truth, and the way of life is found 
 amid the illusions of the world. How many a Catholic 
 has in his thoughts followed such men, man}" of them so 
 good, so true, so noble ! how often has the wish risen in 
 his heart that some one from among his own people should 
 come forward as the champion of revealed truth against its 
 opponents ! Various persons. Catholic and Protestant, 
 have asked me to do so myself ; but I had several strong 
 difficulties in the way. One of the greatest is this, that at 
 the moment it is so difficult to say precisely what it is that 
 is to be encountered and overthrown. I am far from 
 denying that scientific knowledge is really growing, but it 
 is by fits and starts ; hypotheses rise and fall ; it is diffi- 
 cult to anticipate which of them will keep their ground, 
 
rOSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 263 
 
 and what tiie state of knowledge in relation to them will 
 be from year to year. In this condition of things, it has 
 seemed to me to be very undignified for a Catholic to com- 
 mit himself to the work of chasing what might turn out 
 to be phantoms, and, in behalf of some special objections, 
 to be ingenious in devising a theory, which, before it was 
 completed, might have to give place to some theory newer 
 still, from the fact that those former objections had already 
 come to nought under the uprising of others. It seemed 
 to be specially a time, in which Christians had a call to be 
 patient, in which they had no other way of helping those 
 who were alarmed, than that of exhorting them to have a 
 little faith and fortitude, and to ''beware,^' as the poet 
 says, " of dangerous steps." This seemed so clear to me, 
 the more I thought of the matter, as to make me surmise, 
 that, if I attempted what had so little promise in it, I 
 should find that the highest Catholic Authority was 
 against the attempt, and that I should have spent my 
 time and my thought, in doing what either it would be 
 imprudent to bring before the public at all, or what, did I 
 do so, would only complicate matters further which were 
 already complicated, without my interference, more than 
 enough. And I interpret recent acts of that authority as 
 fulfilling my expectation ; I interpret them as tying the 
 hands of a controversialist, such as I should be, and teach- 
 ing us that true wisdom, which Moses inculcated on his 
 people, when the Egyptians were pursuing them, "Fear 
 ye not, stand stiU; the Lord shall fight for you, and ye 
 shall hold your peace." And so far from finding a diffi- 
 culty in obeying in this case, I have cause to be thankful 
 and to rejoice to have so clear a direction in a matter of 
 difficulty. 
 
 But if we would ascertain with correctness the real 
 course of a principle, we must look at it at a certain dis- 
 tance, and as history represents it to us. Nothing carried 
 
264 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 on by human instruments, but has its irregularities, and 
 affords ground for criticism, when minutely scrutinized in 
 matters of detail. I have been speaking of that aspect of 
 the action of an infallible authority, which is most open to 
 invidious criticism from those who view it from without ; 
 I have tried to be fair, in estimating what can be said to 
 its disadvantage, as witnessed at a particular time in the 
 Catholic Church, and now I wish its adversaries to be 
 equally fair in their judgment upon its historical character. 
 Can, then, the infallible authorit}", with any show of reason, 
 be said in fact to have destroyed the energy of the Catholic 
 intellect ? Let it be observed, I have not here to speak 
 of any conflict which ecclesiastical authority has had with 
 science, for this simple reason, that conflict there has been 
 none ; and that, because the secular sciences, as they now 
 exist, are a novelty in the world, and there has been no 
 time yet for a history of relations between theology and 
 these new methods of knowledge, and indeed the Church 
 may be said to have kept clear of them, as is proved by 
 the constantly cited case of Galileo. Here " exceptio pro- 
 bat regulam:'' for it is the one stock argument. Again, 
 I have not to speak of any relations of the Church to the 
 new sciences, because my simple question all along has 
 been whether the assumption of infallibility by the proper 
 authority is adapted to make me a hypocrite, and till that 
 authority passes decrees on pure physical subjects and calls 
 on me to subscribe them, (which it never will do, because 
 it has not the power,) it has no tendency to interfere by any 
 of its acts with my private judgment on those points. The 
 simple question is, whether authority has so acted upon 
 the reason of individuals, that they can have no opinion 
 of their own, and have but an alternative of slavish super- 
 stition or secret rebellion of heart ; and I think the whole 
 history of theology puts an absolute negative upon such a 
 supposition. 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 2G5 
 
 It is hardly necessary to argue out so plain a point. It 
 is individuals, and not the Holy See, that have taken the 
 initiative, and given the lead to the Catholic mind, in theo- 
 logical inquiry. Indeed, it is one of the reproaches urged 
 against the Eoman Church, that it has originated nothing, 
 and has only served as a sort of rcmora or break in the 
 development of doctrine. And it is an objection which I 
 really embrace as a truth ; for such I conceive to be the 
 main purpose of its extraordinary gift. It is said, and 
 trulj", that the Church of Rome possessed no great mind 
 in the whole period of persecution . Afterwards for a long 
 while, it has not a single doctor to show ; St. Leo, its first, 
 is the teacher of one point of doctrine ; St. Gregor}^ who 
 stands at the very extremity of the first age of the Church, 
 has no place in dogma or philosophy. The great luminary 
 of the western world is, as we know, St. Augustine ; he, 
 no infallible teacher, has formed the intellect of Christian 
 Europe ; indeed to the African Church generally we must 
 look for the best early exposition of Latin ideas. More- 
 over, of the African divines, the first in order of time, and 
 not the least influential, is the strong-minded and heterodox 
 Tertullian. Nor is the Eastern intellect, as such, without 
 its share in the formation of the Latin teaching. The 
 free thought of Origen is visible in the writings of the 
 Western Doctors, Hilary and Ambrose ; and the indepen- 
 dent mind of Jerome has enriched his own vigorous com- 
 mentaries on Scripture, from the stores of the scarcely 
 orthodox Eusebius. Heretical questionings have been 
 transmuted by the living power of the Church into salu- 
 tary truths. The case is the same as regards the Ecumeni- 
 cal Councils. Authority in its most imposing exhibition, 
 grave bishops, laden with the traditions and rivalries of 
 particular nations or places, have been guided in their 
 decisions by the commanding genius of individuals, some- 
 times young and of inferior rank. Not that uninspired 
 
266 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 intellect overruled the super-human gift which was com- 
 mitted to the Council, which would be a self- contradictory- 
 assertion, but that in that process of inquiry and delibera- 
 tion, which ended in an infallible enunciation, individual 
 reason was paramount. Thus Malchion, a mere presbyter, 
 was the instrument of the grev.t Council of Antioch in the 
 third century in meeting and refuting, for the assembled 
 Fathers, the heretical Patriarch of that see. Parallel to 
 this instance is the influence, so well known, of a young 
 deacon, St. Athanasius, with the 318 Fathers at Nicsea. 
 In mediaeval times we read of St. Anselm at Bari, as the 
 champion of the Council there held, against the Greeks. 
 At Trent, the writings of St. Bonaventura, and, what is 
 more to the point, the address of a Priest and theologian, 
 Salmeron, had a critical effect on some of the definitions 
 of do^'-ma. In some of these cases the influence might be 
 partly moral, but in others it was that of a discursive 
 knowledge of ecclesiastical writers, a scientific acquaint- 
 ance with theology, and a force of thought in the treat- 
 ment of doctrine. 
 
 There are of course intellectual habits which theology 
 does not tend to form, as for instance the experimental, 
 and again the philosophical; but that is because it is 
 theology, not because of the gift of infallibility. But, as 
 far as this goes, I think it could be shown that physical 
 science on the other hand, or again mathematical, afibrds 
 but an imperfect training for the intellect. I do not see 
 then how any objection about the narrowness of theology 
 comes into our question, which simply is, whether the 
 belief in an infallible authority destroys the independence 
 of the mind ; and I consider that the whole history of 
 the Church, and especially the history of the theological 
 schools, gives a negative to the accusation. There never 
 was a time when the intelbct of the educated class was 
 more active, or rather more restless, than in the middle 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 267 
 
 ages. And then again all througli Churcli history from 
 the first, how slow is authority in interfering ! Perhaps 
 a local teacher, or a doctor in some local school, hazards a 
 proposition, and a controversy ensues. It smoulders or 
 burns in one place, no one interposing ; Eome simj)ly lets 
 it alone. Then it comes before a Bishop ; or some priest, 
 or some professor in some other seat of learning takes it 
 up ; and then there is a second stage of it. Then it comes 
 before a University, and it may be condemned by the 
 theological faculty. So the controversy proceeds year 
 after 5^ear, and Rome is still silent. An appeal perhaps is 
 next made to a seat of authority inferior to E,ome ; and 
 then at last after a long while it comes before the supreme 
 power. Meanwhile, the question has been ventilated and 
 turned over and over again, and viewed on every side of 
 it, and authority is called upon to pronounce a decision, 
 which has already been arrived at by reason. But even 
 then, perhaps the supreme authority hesitates to do so, 
 and nothing is determined on the point for years : or so 
 generally and vaguely, that the whole controversy has to 
 be gone through again, before it is ultimately determined. 
 It is manifest how a mode of proceeding, such as this, 
 tends not only to the liberty, but to the courage, of the 
 individual theologian or controversialist. Many a man 
 has ideas, which he hopes are true, and useful for his day, 
 but he is not confident about them, and wishes to have 
 them discussed. He is willing, or rather would be thankful, 
 to give them up, if the}^ can be proved to be erroneous or 
 dangerous, and by means of controversy he obtains his 
 end. He is answered, and he yields ; or on the contrary 
 he finds that he is considered safe. He would not dare to 
 do this, if he knew an authority, which was supreme and 
 final, was watching every word he said, and made signs of 
 assent or dissent to each sentence, as he uttered it. Then 
 indeed he would be fightimr. as the Persian soldiers, under 
 
268 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 the lash, and the freedom of his intellect might truly be 
 said to be beaten out of him. But this has not been so : — 
 I do not mean to say that, when controversies run high, 
 in schools or even in small portions of the Church, an 
 interposition may not advisably take place ; and again, 
 questions may be of that urgent nature, that an appeal 
 must, as a matter of duty, be made at once to the highest ' 
 authority in the Church ; but if we look into the history 
 of controversy, we shall find, I think, the general run of 
 things to be such as I have represented it. Zosimus 
 treated Pelagius and Coelestius with extreme forbearance ; 
 St. Gregory VII. was equally indulgent with Berengarius : 
 — by reason of the very power of the Popes they have 
 commonly been slow and moderate in their use of it. 
 
 And here again is a further shelter for the legitimate 
 exercise of the reason: — the multitude of nations which 
 are within the fold of the Church will be found to have 
 acted for its protection, against any narrowness, on the 
 supposition of narrowness, in the various authorities at 
 Pome, with whom lies the practical decision of contro- 
 verted questions. How have the Greek traditions been 
 respected and provided for in the later Ecumenical Coun- 
 cils, in spite of the countries that held them being in a 
 state of schism ! There are important points of doctrine 
 which have been (humanly speaking) exempted from the 
 infallible sentence, by the tenderness with which its instru- 
 ments, in framing it, have treated the opinions of particular 
 places. Then, again, such national influences have a pro- 
 vidential effect in moderating the bias which the local 
 influences of Italy may exert upon the See of St. Peter. 
 It stands to reason that, as the Galilean Church has in it 
 a French element, so Pome must have in it an element of 
 Italy ; and it is no prejudice to the zeal and devotion with 
 which we submit ourselves to the Holy See to admit this 
 plainty. It seems to me, as I have been saying, that 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 269 
 
 Catholicity is not only one of the notes of the Church, but, 
 according to the divine purposes, one of its securities. I 
 think it would be a very serious evil, which Divine Mercy 
 avert ! that the Church should be contracted in Euroj)e 
 within the range of particular nationalities. It is a great 
 idea to introduce Latin civilization into America, and to 
 improve the Catholics thero by the energy of French 
 devotedness ; but I trust that all European races will ever 
 have a place in the Church, and assuredly I think that 
 the loss of the English, not to say the German element, in 
 its composition has been a most serious misfortune. And 
 certainly, if there is one consideration more than another 
 which should make us English grateful to Pius the Ninth, 
 it is that, by giving us a Church of our own, he has pre- 
 pared the way for our own habits of mind, our own 
 manner of reasoning, our own tastes, and our own virtues, 
 finding a place and thereby a sanctification, in the Catholic 
 Church. 
 
 There is only one other subject, which I think it neces- 
 sary to introduce here, as bearing upon the vague suspi- 
 cions which are attached in this country to the Catholic 
 Priesthood. It is one of which my accusers have before 
 now said much, — the charge of reserve and economy. 
 They found it in no slight degree on what I have said on 
 the subject in my History of the Arians, and in a note 
 upon one of my Sermons in which I refer to it. The 
 principle of Reserve is also advocated by an admirable 
 writer in two numbers of the Tracts for the Times, and 
 of these I was the Editor. 
 
 Now, as to the Economy itself % it is founded upon the 
 words of our Lord, '' Cast not your pearls before swine ;" 
 and it was observed by the early Christians more or less, 
 
 3 Vide Note F, The Economy. 
 
270 POSITIOiS OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 in their intercourse wltli the heathen populations among 
 whom they lived. In the midst of the abominable idola- 
 tries and impurities of that fearful time, the Eule of the 
 Economy was an imperative duty. But that rule, at least 
 as I have explained and recommended it, in anything that 
 I have written, did not go beyond (1) the concealing the 
 truth when we could do so without deceit, (2) stating it 
 only partially, and (3) representing it under the nearest 
 form possible to a learner or inquirer, when he could not 
 j)ossibly understand it exactly. I conceive that to draw 
 Angels with wings is an instance of the third of these 
 economical modes ; and to avoid the question, " Do Chris- 
 tians believe in a Trinity?'' by answering, "They believe 
 in only one God," would be an instance of the second. 
 As to the first, it is hardly an Economy, but comes under 
 what is called the " Disciplina Arcani." The second and 
 third economical modes Clement calls lying; meaning that 
 a partial truth is in some sense a lie, as is also a represen- 
 tative truth. And this, I think, is about the long and the 
 short of the ground of the accusation which has been 
 so violently urged against me, as being a patron of the 
 Economy. 
 
 Of late years I have come to think, as I believe most 
 writers do, that Clement meant more than I have said. I 
 used to think he used the word " lie " as an hyperbole, 
 but I now believe that he, as other early Fathers, thought 
 that, under certain circumstances, it was lawful to tell a 
 lie. This doctrine I never maintained, though I used to 
 think, as I do now, that the theory of the subject is sur- 
 rounded with considerable difficulty ; and it is not strange 
 that I should say so, considering that great English 
 writers declare without hesitation that in certain extreme 
 cases, as to save life, honour, or even property, a lie is 
 allowable. And thus I am brought to the direct question 
 of truth, and of the truthfulness of Catholic priests gene- 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 271 
 
 rally in their dealings witli the world, as bearing on the 
 general question of their honesty, and of their internal belief 
 in their religious professions. 
 
 It would answer no purpose, and it would be departing 
 from the line of writing which I have been observing all 
 along, if I entered into any formal discussion on this 
 question ; what I shall do here, as I have done in the 
 foregoing pages, is to give my own testimony on the 
 matter in question, and there to leave it. Now first I will 
 say, that, when I became a Catholic, nothing struck me 
 more at once than the English out-spoken manner of the 
 Priests. It was the same at Oscott, at Old Hall Green, at 
 Ushaw; there was nothing of that smoothness, or man- 
 nerism, which is commonly imputed to them, and they 
 were more natural and unaffected than many an Anghcan 
 clergyman. The many years, which have passed since, 
 have only confirmed my first impression. I have ever 
 found it in the priests of this Diocese ; did I wish to point 
 out a straightforward Englishman, I should instance the 
 Bishop, who has, to our great benefit, for so many years 
 presided over it. 
 
 And next, I was struck, when I had more opportunity 
 of judging of the Priests, by the simple faith in the Catho- 
 lic Creed and system, of which they always gave evidence, 
 and which they never seemed to feel, in any sense at all, 
 to be a burden. And now that I have been in the Church 
 nineteen years, I cannot recollect hearing of a single in- 
 stance in England of an infidel priest. Of course there 
 are men from time to time, who leave the Catholic Church 
 for another religion, but I am speaking of cases, when a 
 man keeps a fair outside to the world and is a hollow 
 hypocrite in his heart. 
 
 I wonder that the self-devotion of our priests does not 
 strike a Protestant in this point of view. What do they 
 
272 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 gain by professing a Creed, in which, if their enemies are 
 to be credited, they really do not believe ? What is their 
 reward for committing themselves to a life of self-restraint 
 and toil, and perhaps to a premature and miserable death ? 
 The Irish fever cut off between Liverpool and Leeds thirty 
 priests and more, young men in the flower of their days, 
 old men who seemed entitled to some quiet time after their 
 long toil. There was a bishop cut off in the North ; but 
 what had a man of his ecclesiastical rank to do with the 
 drudgery and danger of sick calls, except that Christian 
 faith and charity constrained him? Priests volunteered 
 for the dangerous service. It was the same with them on 
 the first coming of the cholera, that mysterious awe-in- 
 spiring infliction. If they did not heartily believe in the 
 Creed of the Church, then I will say that the remark of 
 the Apostle had its fullest illustration : — " If in this life 
 only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most 
 miserable/' What could support a set of hypocrites in 
 the presence of a deadly disorder, one of them following 
 another in long order up the forlorn hope, and one after 
 another perishing ? And such, I may say, in its substance, 
 is every Mission- Priest's life. He is ever ready to sacri- 
 fice himself for his people. Night and day, sick or well 
 himself, in all weathers, off he is, on the news of a sick 
 call. The fact of a parishioner djdng without the Sacra- 
 ments through his fault is terrible to him ; why terrible, 
 if he has not a deep absolute faith, which he acts upon 
 with a free service ? Protestants admire this, when they 
 see it; but they do not seem to see as clearly, that it 
 excludes the very notion of hypocrisy. 
 
 Sometimes, when they reflect upon it, it leads them to 
 remark on the wonderful discipline of the Catholic priest- 
 hood; they say that no Church has so well ordered a 
 clergy, and that in that respect it surpasses their own; 
 they wish they could have such exact discipline among 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 273 
 
 themselves. But is it an excellence which can be pur- 
 chased? is it a phenomenon which depends on nothing 
 else than itself, or is it an effect which has a cause ? You 
 cannot buy devotion at a price. ''It hath never been 
 heard of in the land of Chanaan, neither hath it been seen 
 in Theman. The children of Agar, the merchants of 
 Meran, none of these have known its way." What then 
 is that wonderful charm, which makes a thousand men 
 act all in one way, and infuses a prompt obedience to rule, 
 as if they were under some stern military compulsion ? 
 How difficult to find an answer, unless you will allow the 
 obvious one, that they believe intensely what they profess! 
 
 I cannot think what it can be, in a day like this, which 
 keeps up the prejudice of this Protestant country against 
 us, unless it be the vague charges which are drawn from 
 our books of Moral Theology ; and with a short notice of 
 the work in particular which by our accusers is especially 
 thrown into our teeth, I shall bring these observations to 
 a close. 
 
 St. Alfonso Liguori, then, it cannot be denied, lays down 
 that an equivocation, (that is, a play upon words, in which 
 one sense is taken by the speaker, and another sense intended 
 by him for the hearer,) is allowable, if there is a just cause, 
 that is, in an extraordinary case, and may even be con- 
 firmed by an oath. I shall give my opinion on this point 
 as plainly as any Protestant can wish ; and therefore I 
 avow at once that in this department of morality, much as 
 I admire the high points of the Italian character, I like 
 the English rule of conduct better ; but, in saying so, I 
 am not, as will shortly be seen, saying any thing disre- 
 spectful to St. Alfonso, who was a lover of truth, and 
 whose intercession I trust I shall not lose, though, on the 
 matter under consideration, I follow other guidance in 
 preference to his. 
 
274 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 I^ow I make this remark first : — great Englisb. authors, 
 Jeremy Taylor, Milton, Paley, Johnson, men of very dif- 
 ferent schools of thought, distinctly say, that under certain 
 extraordinary circumstances it is allowable to tell a lie. 
 Taylor says : " To tell a lie for charity, to save a man's 
 life, the life of a friend, of a husband, of a prince, of a 
 useful and a public person, hath not only been done at all 
 times, but commended by great and wise and good men. 
 Who would not save his father's life, at the charge of a 
 harmless lie, from persecutors or tyrants?" Again, Mil- 
 ton says : " What man in his senses would deny, that 
 there are those whom we have the best grounds for con- 
 sidering that we ought to deceive, — as boys, madmen, the 
 sick, the intoxicated, enemies, men in error, thieves ? I 
 would ask, by which of the commandments is a lie for- 
 bidden ? You will say, by the ninth. If then my lie 
 does not injure my neighbour, certainly it is not forbidden 
 by this commandment.'' Paley says : " There are false- 
 hoods, which are not lies, that is, which are not criminal." 
 Johnson : " The general rule is, that truth should never be 
 violated ; there must, however, be some exceptions. If, 
 for instance, a murderer should ask you which way a man 
 is gone.'* 
 
 Now, I am not using these instances as an argument urn 
 ad hominem; but the purpose to which I put them is 
 this : — 
 
 1. First, I have set down the distinct statements of 
 Taylor, Milton, Paley, and Johnson: — now, would any 
 one give ever so little weight to these statements, in form- 
 ing a real estimate of the veracity of the writers, if they 
 now were alive ? Were a man, who is so fierce with St. 
 Alfonso, to meet Paley or Johnson to-morrow in societj^, 
 would he look upon him as a liar, a knave, as dishonest 
 and untrustworthy ? I am sure he would not. Why then 
 does he not deal out the same measure to Catholic priests ? 
 
POSITION OF MY MIXD SINCE 1845. 275 
 
 If a copy of Scavini, wliicli speaks of equivocation as being 
 in a just cause allowable, be found in a student's room at 
 Oscott, not Scavini himself, but even the unhappy student, 
 who has what a Protestant calls a bad book in his possession, 
 is judged to be for life unworthy of credit. Are all Pro- 
 testant text- books, which are used at the University, im- 
 maculate ? Is it necessary to take for gospel every word 
 of Aristotle's Ethics, or every assertion of Hey or Burnett 
 on the Articles ? Are text-books the ultimate authority, 
 or rather are they not manuals in the hands of a lecturer, 
 and the groundwork of his remarks ? But, again, let us 
 suppose, not the case of a student, or of a professor, but of 
 Scavini himself, or of St. Alfonso ; now here again I ask, 
 since you would not scruple in holding Paley for an honest 
 man, in spite of his defence of lying, why do you scruple 
 at holding St. Alfonso honest ? I am perfectly sure that 
 you would not scruple at Paley personally ; you might not 
 agree with him, but you would not go further than to call 
 him a bold thinker : then why should St. Alfonso's per- 
 son be odious to you, as well as his doctrine ? 
 
 Now I wish to tell you why you are not afraid of Paley; 
 because, you would say, when he advocated lying, he was 
 taking extreme or special cases. You would have no fear of 
 a man who you knew had shot a burglar dead in his own 
 house, because jom know you are not a burglar : so you 
 would not think that Paley had a habit of telKng lies in 
 society, because in the case of a cruel alternative he 
 thought it the lesser evil to tell a lie. Then why do you 
 show such suspicion of a Catholic theologian, who speaks 
 of certain extraordinary cases in which an equivocation in 
 a penitent cannot be visited by his confessor as if it were a 
 sin ? for this is the exact point of the question. 
 
 But again, why does Paley, why does Jeremy Taylor, 
 when no practical matter is actually before him, lay down 
 a maxim about the lawfulness of lying, which will -startle 
 
276 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 most readers? The reason is plain. He is forming a theory 
 of morals, and he must treat every question in turn as it 
 comes. And this is just what St. Alfonso or Scavini is 
 doing. You only try your hand yourself at a treatise on 
 the rules of morality, and you will see how difficult the 
 work is. What is the definition of a lie ? Can you give a 
 better than that it is a sin against justice, as Taylor and 
 Paley consider it ? but, if so, how can it be a sin at all, if 
 your neighbour is not injured? If you do not like this 
 definition, take another ; and then, by means of that, 
 perhaps you will be defending St. Alfonso's equivocation. 
 However, this is what I insist upon ; that St. Alfonso, as 
 Paley, is considering the different portions of a large sub- 
 ject, and he must, on the subject of lying, give his judgment, 
 though on that subject it is difficult to form any judgment 
 which is satisfactory. 
 
 But further still : you must not suppose that a philoso- 
 pher or moralist uses in his own case the licence which his 
 theory itself would allow him. A man in his own person 
 is guided by his own conscience ; but in drawing out a 
 system of rules he is obliged to go by logic, and follow the 
 exact deduction of conclusion from conclusion, and must 
 be sure that the whole system is coherent and one. You 
 hear of even immoral or irreligious books being written by 
 men of decent character ; there is a late writer who says 
 that David Hume's sceptical works are not at all the 
 picture of the man. A priest might write a treatise which 
 was really lax on the subject of lying, which might come 
 under the condemnation of the Holy See, as some treatises 
 on that score have already been condemned, and yet in 
 his own person be a rigorist. And, in fact, it is notorious 
 from St. Alfonso's Life, that he, who has the repute of 
 being so lax a moralist, had one of the most scrupulous 
 and anxious of consciences himself. Nay, further than 
 this, he was originally in the Law, and on one occasion he 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 277 
 
 was betrayed into the commission of wliat seemed like a 
 deceit, though it was an accident ; and that was the very 
 occasion of his leaving the profession and embracing the 
 religious life. 
 
 The account of this remarkable occurrence is told us in 
 his Life : — 
 
 "Notwithstanding he had carefully examined over and 
 over the details of the process, he was completely mis- 
 taken regarding the sense of one document, which con- 
 stituted the right of the adverse party. The advocate of 
 the Grand Duke perceived the mistake, but he allowed 
 Alfonso to continue his eloquent address to the end with- 
 out interruption ; as soon, however, as he had finished, he 
 rose, and said with cutting coolness, * Sir, the case is not 
 exactly what you suppose it to be ; if you will review the 
 process, and examine this paper attentively, you will find 
 there precisely the contrary of all you have advanced.' 
 * Willingly,' replied Alfonso, without hesitating ; * the 
 decision depends on this question — whether the fief were 
 granted under the law of Lombardy, or under the French 
 Law.' The paper being examined, it was found that the 
 Grand Duke's advocate was in the right. 'Yes,' said 
 Alfonso, holding the paper in his hand, * I am wrong, I 
 have been mistaken.' A discovery so unexpected, and the 
 fear of being accused of unfair dealing filled him with 
 consternation, and covered him with confusion, so much 
 so, that every one saw his emotion. It was in vain that 
 the President Caravita, who loved him, and knew his 
 integrity, tried to console him, by telling him that such 
 mistakes were not uncommon, even among the first men 
 at the bar. Alfonso would listen to nothing, but, over- 
 whelmed with confusion, his head sunk on his breast, he 
 said to himself, * World, I know you now ; courts of law, 
 never shall you see me again ! ' And turning his back on 
 the assembly, he withdrew to his own house, incessantly 
 
278 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 repeating to himself, ' World, I know you now.' "What 
 annoyed him most was, that having studied and re-studied 
 the process during a whole month, without having dis- 
 covered this important flaw, he could not understand how 
 it had escaped his observation." 
 
 And this is the man, so easily scared at the very shadow 
 of trickery, who is so flippantly pronounced to be a patron 
 of lying. 
 
 But, in truth, a Catholic theologian has objects in view 
 which men in general little compass ; he is not thinking 
 of himself, but of a multitude of souls, sick souls, sinful 
 souls, carried away by sin, full of evil, and he is trjdng 
 with all his might to rescue them from their miserable 
 state ; and, in order to save them from more heinous sins, 
 he tries, to the full extent that his conscience will allow 
 him to go, to shut his eyes to such sins, as are, though 
 sins, yet lighter in character or degree. He knows per- 
 fectly well that, if he is as strict as he would wish to be, 
 he shall be able to do nothing at all with the run of men ; 
 so he is as indulgent with them as ever he can be. Let it 
 not be for an instant supposed, that I allow of the maxim 
 of doing evil that good may come ; but, keeping clear of 
 this, there is a way of winning men from greater sins by 
 winking for the time at the less, or at mere improprieties 
 or faults ; and this is the key to the difilculty which Ca- 
 tholic books of moral theology so often cause to the Pro- 
 testant. They are intended for the Confessor, and Pro- 
 testants view them as intended for the Preacher. 
 
 2. And I observe upon Taylor, Milton, and Paley thus : 
 What would a Protestant clergyDian say to me, if I accused 
 him of teaching that a lie was allowable ; and if, when he 
 asked for my proof, I said in reply that such was the 
 doctrine of Taylor and Milton ? Why, he would sharply 
 retort, *' / am not bound by Taylor or Milton ; " and if I 
 went, on urging that " Taylor was one of his authorities," 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 279 
 
 he would answer that Taylor was a great writer, but great 
 writers were not therefore infallible. This is pretty much 
 the answer which I make, when I am considered in this 
 matter a disciple of St. Alfonso. 
 
 I plainly and positively state, and without any reserve, 
 that I do not at all follow this holy and charitable man in 
 this portion of his teaching. There are various schools of 
 opinion allowed in the Church : and on this point I follow 
 others. I follov/ Cardinal Gerdil, and W^atalis Alexander, 
 nay, St. Augustine. I will quote one passage from Natalis 
 Alexander : — " They certainly lie, who utter the words of 
 an oath, without the will to swear or bind themselves : or 
 who make use of mental reservations and equivocations in 
 swearing, since they signify by words what they have not 
 in mind, contrary to the end for which language was 
 instituted, viz. as signs of ideas. Or they mean something 
 else than the words signify in themselves and the common 
 custom of speech." And, to take an instance : I do not 
 believe any priest in England would dream of saying, 
 "My friend is not here;" meaning, "He is not in my 
 pocket or under my shoe." TsTor should any consideration 
 make me say so myself. I do not think St. Alfonso would 
 in his own case have said so ; and he would have been 
 as much shocked at Taylor and Paley, as Protestants are 
 at him ^ 
 
 And now, if Protestants wish to know what our real 
 teaching is, as on other subjects, so on that of lying, let 
 them look, not at our books of casuistry, but at our cate- 
 chisms. Works on pathology do not give the best insight 
 into the form and the harmony of the human frame; and, 
 as it is with the body, so is it with the mind. The Cate- 
 chism of the Council of Trent was drawn up for the express 
 
 2 Vide Note G, Lying and Equivocation. 
 
280 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 purpose of providing preacliers with subjects for their 
 Sermons ; and, as my whole work has been a defence of 
 myself, I may here say that I rarely preach a Sermon, but 
 I go to this beautiful and complete Catechism to get both 
 my matter and my doctrine. There we find the following 
 notices about the duty of Veracity : — 
 
 " ' Thou shalt not bear false witness,' &c. : let attention 
 be drawn to two laws contained in this commandment : — 
 the one, forbidding false witness ; the other bidding, that 
 removing all pretence and deceits, we should measure our 
 words and deeds by simple truth, as the Apostle admo- 
 nished the Ephesians of that duty in these words : 'Doing 
 truth in charity, let us grow in Him through all things.' 
 
 " To deceive by a lie in joke or for the sake of compli- 
 ment, though to no one there accrues loss or gain in con- 
 sequence, nevertheless is altogether unworthy : for thus 
 the Apostle admonishes, 'Putting aside lying, speak ye 
 truth.' For therein is great danger of lapsing into fre- 
 quent and more serious lying, and from lies in joke men 
 gain the habit of lying, whence they gain the character of 
 not being truthful. And thence again, in order to gain 
 credence to their words, they find it necessar}^ to make a 
 practice of swearing. 
 
 " ISTo thing is more necessary [for us] than truth of testi- 
 mony, in those things, which we neither know ourselves, nor 
 can allowably be ignorant of, on which point there is extant 
 that maxim of St. Augustine's ; Whoso conceals the truth, 
 and whoso puts forth a lie, each is guilty ; the one because 
 he is not willing to do a service, the other because he has 
 a wish to do a mischief. 
 
 " It is lawful at times to be silent about the truth, but 
 out of a court of law ; for in court, when a witness is inter- 
 rogated by the judge according to law, the truth is wholly 
 to be brought out. 
 
 ''Witnesses, however, must beware, lest, from over- 
 
POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 281 
 
 confidence in their memory, they affirm for certain, what 
 they have not verified. 
 
 " In order that the faithful may with more good will 
 avoid the sin of lying, the Parish Priest shall set before 
 them the extreme misery and turpitude of this wickedness. 
 For, in holy writ, the devil is called the father of a lie ; 
 for, in that he did not remain in Truth, he is a liar, and 
 the father of a lie. He will add, with the view of ridding 
 men of so great a crime, the evils which follow upon lying ; 
 and, whereas they are innumerable, he will point out [at 
 least] the sources and the general heads of these mischiefs 
 and calamities, viz. 1. How great is God's displeasure and 
 how great His hatred of a man who is insincere and a liar. 
 2. What little security there is that a man who is specially 
 hated by God may not be visited by the heaviest punish- 
 ments. 3. What more unclean and foul, as St. James 
 says, than .... that a fountain by the same jet should 
 send out sweet water and bitter? 4. For that tongue, 
 which just now praised God, next, as far as in it lies, dis- 
 honours Him by Ij^ing. 5. In consequence, liars are shut 
 out from the possession of heavenly beatitude. 6. That 
 too is the worst evil of lying, that that disease of the mind 
 is generally incurable. 
 
 '' Moreover, there is this harm too, and one of vast ex- 
 tent, and touching men generally, that by insincerity and 
 lying faith and truth are lost, which are the firmest bonds 
 of human society, and, when they are lost, supreme confu- 
 sion follows in life, so that men seem in nothing to difier 
 from devils. 
 
 " Lastly, the Parish Priest will set those right who ex- 
 cuse their insincerity and allege the example of wise men, 
 who, they say, are used to lie for an occasion. He will 
 tell them, what is most true, that the wisdom of the flesh 
 is death. He will exhort his hearers to trust in God, when 
 
282 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 they are in difficulties and straits, nor to have recourse to 
 the expedient of a lie. 
 
 " They who throw the blame of their own lie on those 
 who have already by a lie deceived them, are to be taught 
 that men must not revenge themselves, nor make up for 
 one evil by another." .... 
 
 There is much more in the Catechism to the same effect, 
 and it is of universal obligation ; whereas the decision of 
 a particular author in morals need not be accepted by 
 any one. 
 
 To one other authority I appeal on this subject, which 
 commands from me attention of a special kind, for it 
 is the teaching of a Father. It will serve to bring my 
 work to a conclusion. 
 
 " St. Philip," says the Roman Oratorian who wrote his 
 Life, " had a particular dislike of affectation both in him- 
 self and others, in speaking, in dressing, or in any thing 
 else. 
 
 " He avoided all ceremony which savoured of worldly 
 compliment, and always showed himself a great stickler 
 for Christian simplicity in every thing ; so that, when he 
 had to deal with men of worldly prudence, he did not very 
 readily accommodate himself to them. 
 
 " And he avoided, as much as possible, having any thing 
 to do with Uoo-faced persons, who did not go simply and 
 straightforwardly to work in their transactions. 
 
 '^ As for liars, he could not endure them, and he was con- 
 tinually reminding his spiritual children, to avoid them as 
 they would a pestilence.^* 
 
 These are the principles on which I have acted before I 
 was a Catholic; these are the principles which, I trust, 
 will be my stay and guidance to the end. 
 
POSITION OF MY MOD SOCE 1845. 2 S3 
 
 I have closed this history of myself with St. Philip's 
 name upon St. Philip's feast-day ; and, having done so, to 
 whom can I more suitably offer it, as a memorial of affec- 
 tion and gratitude, than to St. Philip's sons, my dearest 
 brothers of this House, the Priests of the Birmingham 
 Oratory, Ambrose St. John, Henry Austin Mills, Henry 
 
 BiTTLESTON, EdWARD CaSWALL, WiLLlAM PaINE NeVILLE, 
 
 and Henry Ignatius Dudley Eyder ? who have been so 
 faithful to me ; who have been so sensitive of my needs ; 
 who have been so indulgent to my failings ; who have 
 carried me through so many trials ; who have grudged no 
 sacrifice, if I asked for it ; who have been so cheerful 
 under discouragements of my causing ; who have done so 
 many good works, and let me have the credit of them ; 
 — with whom I have lived so long, with whom I hope 
 to die. 
 
 And to you especially, dear Ambrose St. John ; whom 
 God gave me, when He took every one else away ; who 
 are the link between my old life and my new ; who have 
 now for twenty-one years been so devoted to me, so patient, 
 so zealous, so tender ; who have let me lean so hard upon 
 you; who have watched me so narrowly ; who have never 
 thought of yourself, if I was in question. 
 
 And in you I gather up and bear in memory those 
 familiar affectionate companions and counsellors, who in 
 Oxford were given to me, one after another, to be my 
 daily solace and relief; and all those others, of great name 
 and high example, who were my thorough friends, and 
 showed me true attachment in times long past ; and also 
 those many younger men, whether I knew them or not, 
 who have never been disloyal to me by word or deed ; and 
 
284 POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845. 
 
 of all these, thus various in tlieir relations to me, those 
 more especially who have since joined the Catholic 
 Church. 
 
 And I earnestly pray for this whole company, with a 
 hope against hope, that all of us, who once were so united, 
 and so happy in our union, may even now be brought at 
 length, by the Power of the Divine Will, into One Fold 
 and under One Shepherd. 
 
 Map 26, 1864. 
 In Festo Corp. Christ. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 NOTE A. ON PAGE 14. 
 
 LIBERALISM. 
 
 I HA VE been asked to explain more fully what it is I mean 
 by " Liberalism/' because merely to call it tbe Anti-dogmatic 
 Principle is to tell ver}^ little about it. An explanation is 
 the more necessary, because such good Catholics and dis- 
 tinguished writers as Count Montalembert and Father 
 Lacordaire use the word in a favorable sense, and claim 
 to be Liberals themselves. " The only singularity," says 
 the former of the two in describing his friend, " was his 
 Liberalism. By a phenomenon, at that time unheard of, 
 this convert, this seminarist, this confessor of nuns, was 
 just as stubborn a liberal, as in the days when he was a 
 student and a barrister." — Life (transl.), p. 19. 
 
 I do not believe that it is possible for me to differ in 
 any important matter from two men whom I so highly 
 admire. In their general line of thought and conduct I 
 enthusiastically concur, and consider them to be before 
 their age. And it would be strange indeed if I did not 
 read with a special interest, in M. de Montalembert's 
 beautiful volume, of the unselfish aims, the thwarted pro- 
 jects, the unrequited toils, the grand and tender resigna- 
 tion of Lacordaire. If I hesitate to adopt their language 
 
286 NOTE A. 
 
 about Liberalism, I impute tlie necessity of sucb hesitation 
 to some difierences between us in the use of words or 
 in the circumstances of country; and thus I reconcile 
 myself to remaining faithful to my own conception of it, 
 though I cannot have their voices to give force to mine. 
 Speaking then in my own way, I proceed to explain what 
 I meant as a Protestant by Liberalism, and to do so in 
 connexion with the circumstances under which that sys- 
 tem of opinion came before me at Oxford. 
 
 If I might presume to contrast Lacordaire and myself, 
 I should say, that we had been both of us inconsistent ; — 
 he, a Catholic, in calling himself a Liberal ; I, a Protestant, 
 in being an Anti-liberal ; and moreover, that the cause of 
 this inconsistency had been in both cases one and the 
 same. That is, we were both of us such good conserva- 
 tives, as to take up with what we happened to find estab- 
 lished in our respective countries, at the time when we 
 came into active life. Toryism was the creed of Oxford ; 
 he inherited, and made the best of, the French Eevolution. 
 
 When, in the beginning of the present century, not 
 very long before my own time, after many years of moral 
 and intellectual declension, the University of Oxford woke 
 up to a sense of its duties, and began to reform itself, the 
 first instruments of this change, to whose zeal and courage 
 we all owe so much, were naturally thrown together for 
 mutual support, against the numerous obstacles which lay 
 in their path, and soon stood out in relief from the body 
 of residents, who, though many of them men of talent 
 themselves, cared little for the object which the others 
 had at heart. These Reformers, as they may be called, 
 were for some years members of scarcely more than three 
 or four Colleges ; and their own Colleges, as being under 
 their direct influence, of course had the benefit of those 
 stricter views of discipline and teaching, which they them- 
 selves were urging on the University. They had, in no 
 
LIBERALISM. 287 
 
 long time, enougli of real progress in their several spheres 
 of exertion, and enough of reputation out of doors, to war- 
 rant them in considering themselves the elite of the place ; 
 and it is not wonderful if they were in consequence led to 
 look down upon the majority of Colleges, which had not 
 kept pace with the reform, or which had been hostile to it. 
 And, when those rivalries of one man with another arose, 
 whether personal or collegiate, which befall literary and 
 scientific societies, such disturbances did but tend to 
 raise in their eyes the value which they had already set 
 upon academical distinction, and increase their zeal in 
 pursuing it. Thus was formed an intellectual circle or 
 class in the University, — men, who felt they had a career 
 before them, as soon as the pupils, whom they were form- 
 ing, came into public life; men, whom non-residents, 
 whether country parsons or preachers of the Low Church, 
 on coming up from time to time to the old place, would 
 look at, partly with admiration, partly with suspicion, as 
 being an honour indeed to Oxford, but withal exposed to 
 the temptation of ambitious views, and to the spiritual evils 
 signified in what is called the " pride of reason.'* 
 
 Nor was this imputation altogether unjust ; for, as they 
 were following out the proper idea of a University, of 
 course they sufiered more or less from the moral malady 
 incident to such a pursuit. The very object of such great 
 institutions lies in the cultivation of the mind and the 
 spread of knowledge : if this object, as all human objects, 
 has its dangers at all times, much more would these exist 
 in the case of men, who were engaged in a work of re- 
 formation, and had the opportunity of measuring them- 
 selves, not only with those who were their equals in 
 intellect, but with the many, who were below them. In 
 this select circle or class of men, in various Colleges, the 
 direct instruments and the choice fruit of real University 
 Reform, we see the rudiments of the Liberal party. 
 
288 KOTE A. 
 
 "Whenever men are able to act at all, there is the chance 
 of extreme and intemperate action ; and therefore, when 
 there is exercise of mind, there is the chance of wayward 
 or mistaken exercise. Liberty of thought is in itself a 
 good ; but it gives an opening to false liberty. Now by 
 Liberalism I mean false liberty of thought, or the exercise 
 of thought upon matters, in which, from the constitution 
 of the human mind, thought cannot be brought to any 
 successful issue, and therefore is out of place. Among 
 such matters are first principles of whatever kind ; and of 
 these the most sacred and momentous are especially to be 
 reckoned the truths of Revelation. Liberalism then is the 
 mistake of subjecting to human judgment those revealed 
 doctrines which are in their nature beyond and inde- 
 pendent of it, and of claiming to determine on intrinsic 
 grounds the truth and value of propositions which rest for 
 their reception simply on the external authority of the 
 Divine Word. 
 
 Now certainly the party of whom I have been speaking, 
 taken as a whole, were of a character of mind out of which 
 Liberalism might easily grow up, as in fact it did ; cer- 
 tainly they breathed around an influence which made men 
 of religious seriousness shrink into themselves. But, while 
 I say as much as this, I have no intention whatever of 
 implying that the talent of the University, in the years 
 before and after 1820, was liberal in its theology, in the 
 sense in which the bulk of the educated classes through 
 the country are liberal now. I would not for the world 
 be supposed to detract from the Christian earnestness, and 
 the activity in religious works, above the average of men, 
 of many of the persons in question. They would have 
 protested against their being supposed to place reason 
 before faith, or knowledge before devotion ; yet I do con- 
 sider that they unconsciously encouraged and successfully 
 introduced into Oxford a licence of opinion which went far 
 
LIBERALISM. 289 
 
 beyond them. In their day they did little more than take 
 credit to themselves for enlightened views, largeness of 
 mind, liberality of sentiment, without drawing the line 
 between what was just and what was inadmissible in 
 speculation, and without seeing the tendency of their own 
 principles ; and engrossing, as they did, the mental energy 
 of the University, they met for a time with no effectual 
 hindrance to the spread of their influence, except (what 
 indeed at the moment was most effectual, but not of an 
 intellectual character) the thorough- going Toryism and 
 traditionary Church-of-En gland-ism of the great body of 
 the Colleges and Convocation. 
 
 Now and then a man of note appeared in the Pulpit 
 or Lecture Kooms of the University, who was a worthy 
 representative of the more religious and devout Anglicans. 
 These belonged chiefly to the High-Church party; for the 
 party called Evangelical never has been able to breathe 
 freely in the atmosphere of Oxford, and at no time has 
 been conspicuous, as a party, for talent or learning. But 
 of the old High Churchmen several exerted some sort of 
 Anti-liberal influence in the place, at least from time to 
 time, and that influence of an intellectual nature. Among 
 these especially may be mentioned Mr. John Miller, of 
 "Worcester College, who preached the Bampton Lecture 
 in the year 1817. But, as far as I know, he who turned 
 the tide, and brought the talent of the University round 
 to the side of the old theology, and against what was 
 familiarly called " march-of-mind,'* was Mr. Keble. In 
 and from Keble the mental activity of Oxford took that 
 contrary direction which issued in what was called Trac- 
 tarianism. 
 
 Keble was young in years, when he became a University 
 celebrity, and younger in mind. He had the purity and 
 simplicity of a child. He had few sympathies with the in- 
 tellectual party, who sincerely welcomed him as a brilliant 
 
 u 
 
290 NOTE A. 
 
 specimen of young Oxford. He instinctively shut up be- 
 fore literary display, and pomp and donnishness of man- 
 ner, faults which always will beset academical notabilities. 
 He did not respond to their advances. His collision with 
 them (if it may be so called) was thus described by Hurrell 
 Froude in his own way. " Poor Keble !" he used gravely 
 to say, " he was askfed to join the aristocracy of talent, but 
 he soon found his level." He went into the country, but 
 his instance serves to prove that men need not, in the 
 event, lose that influence which is rightly theirs, because 
 they happen to be thwarted in the use of the channels 
 natural and proper to its exercise. He did not lose his 
 place in the minds of men because he was out of their 
 sight. 
 
 Keble was a man who guided himself and formed his 
 judgments, not by processes of reason, by inquiry or by 
 argument, but, to use the word in a broad sense, by 
 authority. Conscience is an authority ; the Bible is an 
 authority ; such is the Church ; such is Antiquity ; such 
 are the words of the wise ; such are hereditary lessons ; 
 such are ethical truths ; such are historical memories, such 
 are legal saws and state maxims ; such are proverbs ; such 
 are sentiments, presages, and prepossessions. It seemed to 
 me as if he ever felt happier, when he could speak or act 
 under some such primary or external sanction ; and could 
 use argument mainly as a means of recommending or ex- 
 plaining what had claims on his reception prior to proof. 
 He even felt a tenderness, I think, in spite of Bacon, for 
 the Idols of the Tribe and the Den, of the Market and 
 the Theatre. What he hated instinctively was heresy, 
 insubordination, resistance to things established, claims of 
 independence, disloyalty, innovation, a critical, censorious 
 spirit. And such was the main principle of the school 
 which in the course of years was formed around him ; nor 
 is it easy to set limits to its influence in its day ; for multi- 
 
LIBERALISM. 291 
 
 tudes of men, who did not profess its teacliing, or accept 
 its peculiar doctrines, were willing nevertheless, or found 
 it to their purpose, to act in company with it. 
 
 Indeed for a time it was practically the champion and 
 advocate of the political doctrines of the great clerical in- 
 terest through the country, who found in Mr. Keble and his 
 friends an intellectual, as well as moral support to their 
 cause, which they looked for in vain elsewhere. His weak 
 point, in their eyes, was his consistency; for he carried 
 his love of authority and old times so far, as to be more 
 than gentle towards the Catholic Religion, with which 
 the Toryism of Oxford and of the Church of England had 
 no sympathy. Accordingly, if my memory be correct, he 
 never could get himself to throw his heart into the oppo- 
 sition made to Catholic Emancipation, strongly as he re- 
 volted from the politics and the instruments by means of 
 which that Emancipation was won. I fancy he would 
 have had no difficulty in accepting Dr. Johnson's saying 
 about "the first Whig;" and it grieved and offended him 
 that the " Via prima salutis " should be opened to the 
 Catholic body from the Whig quarter. In spite of his 
 reverence for the Old Religion, I conceive that on the 
 whole he would rather have kept its professors beyond the 
 pale of the Constitution with the Tories, than admit them 
 on the principles of the Whigs. Moreover, if the Revolu- 
 tion of 1688 was too lax in principle for him and his 
 friends, much less, as is very plain, could they endure to 
 subscribe to the revolutionary doctrines of 1776 and 1789, 
 which they felt to be absolutely and entirely out of keep- 
 ing with theological truth. 
 
 The Old Tory or Conservative party in Oxford had in it 
 no principle or power of development, and that from its 
 very nature and constitution : it was otherwise with the 
 Liberals. They represented a new idea, which was but 
 gradually learning to recognize itself, to ascertain its 
 
292 NOTE A. 
 
 characteristics and external relations, and to exert an 
 influence upon the University. The party grew, all the 
 time that I was in Oxford, even in numbers, certainly in 
 breadth and definiteness of doctrine, and in power. And, 
 what was a far higher consideration, by the accession of 
 Dr. Arnold's pupils, it was invested with an elevation of 
 character which claimed the respect even of its opponents. 
 On the other hand, in proportion as it became more earn- 
 est and less self-applauding, it became more free-spoken ; 
 and members of it might be found who, from the mere 
 circumstance of remaining firm to their original profes- 
 sions, would in the judgment of the world, as to their 
 public acts, seem to have left it for the Conservative camp. 
 Thus, neither in its component parts nor in its policy, was 
 it the same in 1832, 1836, and 1841, as it was in 1845. 
 
 These last remarks will serve to throw light upon a 
 matter personal to myself, which I have introduced into 
 my Narrative, and to which my attention has been point- 
 edly called, now that my Yolume is coming to a second 
 edition. 
 
 It has been strongly urged upon me to re-consider the 
 following passages which occur in it : "The men who had 
 driven me from Oxford were distinctly the Liberals, it was 
 they who had opened the attack upon Tract 90," p. 203, 
 and " I found no fault with the Liberals ; they had beaten 
 me in a fair field," p. 214. 
 
 I am very unwilling to seem ungracious, or to cause pain 
 in any quarter ; still I am sorry to say I cannot modify these 
 statements. It is surely a matter of historical fact that I 
 left Oxford upon the University proceedings of 1841 ; and 
 in those proceedings, whether we look to the Heads of 
 Houses or the resident Masters, the leaders, if intellect 
 and influence make men such, were members of the Liberal 
 party. Those who did not lead, concurred or acquiesced 
 in them, — I may say, felt a satisfaction. I do not recollect 
 
LIBERALISM. 293 
 
 any Liberal who was on my side on that occasion. Ex- 
 cepting the Liberal, no other party, as a party, acted 
 against me. I am not complaining of them ; I deserved 
 nothing else at their hands. They could not undo in 1845, 
 even had they wished it, (and there is no proof they did,) 
 what they had done in 1841. In 1845, when I had already 
 given up the contest for four years, and my part in it had 
 passed into the hands of others, then some of those who 
 were prominent against me in 1841, feeling (what they 
 had not felt in 1841) the danger of driving a number of 
 my followers to Rome, and joined by younger friends who 
 had come into University importance since 1841 and felt 
 kindly towards me, adopted a course more consistent with 
 their principles, and proceeded to shield from the zeal of 
 the Hebdomadal Board, not me, but, professedly, all parties 
 through the country, — Tractarians, Evangelicals, Liberals 
 in general, — who had to subscribe to the Anglican formu- 
 laries, on the ground that those formularies, rigidly taken, 
 were, on some point or other, a difficulty to all parties 
 alike. 
 
 However, besides the historical fact, I can bear witness 
 to my own feeling at the time, and my feeling was this: — 
 that those who in 1841 had considered it to be a duty to 
 act against me, had then done their worst. What was it 
 to me what they were now doing in opposition to the New 
 Test proposed by the Hebdomadal Board ? I owed them 
 no thanks for their trouble. I took no interest at all, in 
 February, 1845, in the proceedings of the Heads of Houses 
 and of the Convocation. I felt myself dead as regarded 
 my relations to the Anglican Church. My leaving it was 
 all but a matter of time. I believe I did not even thank 
 my real friends, the two Proctors, who in CouA-ocation 
 stopped by their Yeto the condemnation of Tract 90 ; nor 
 did I make any acknowledgment to Mr. Eogers, nor to Mr. 
 James Mozley, nor, as I think, to Mr. Hussey, for their 
 
294 NOTE A. 
 
 pamphlets in my behalf. My frame of mind is best de- 
 scribed by the sentiment of the passage in Horace, which 
 at the time I was fond of quoting, as expressing my view 
 of the relation that existed between the Vice- Chancellor 
 and myself. 
 
 ** Pentheu, 
 Rector Thebarum, quid me perferre patique 
 Indignum cogas ?" " Adimam bona." " Nempe pecus, rem, 
 Lectos, argentum; tollas licet." " In manicis et 
 Compedibus, ssevo te sub custode tenebo." {viz. the 39 Articles.) 
 ** Ipse Deus, simul atque volam, me solvet." Opinor, 
 Hoc sentit : Moriar. Mors ultima linea rerum est. 
 
 I conclude this notice of Liberalism in Oxford, and the 
 party which was antagonistic to it, with some propositions 
 in detail, which, as a member of the latter, and together 
 with the High Church, I earnestly denounced and abjured. 
 
 1. No religious tenet is important, unless reason shows it 
 to be so. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. the doctrine of the Atbanasian Creed is not to be 
 insisted on, unless it tends to convert the soul ; and the doctrine of 
 the Atonement is to be insisted on, if it does convert the soul. 
 
 2. 'No one can believe what he does not understand. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. there are no mysteries in true religion. 
 
 3. ISTo theological doctrine is any thing more than an 
 opinion which happens to be held by bodies of men. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. no creed, as such, is necessary for salvation. 
 
 4. It is dishonest in a man to make an act of faith in 
 what he has not had brought home to him by actual proof. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. the mass of men ought not absolutely to believe in 
 the divine authority of the Bible. 
 
 5. It is immoral in a man to believe more than he can 
 spontaneously receive as being congenial to his moral and 
 mental nature. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. a given individual is not bound to believe in eternal 
 punishment. 
 
LIBERALISM. ZhO 
 
 6. Xo revealed doetrines or precepts may reasonably 
 stand in the way of scientific conclusions. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. Political Economy may reverse our Lord's declara- 
 tions about poverty and riches, or a system of Ethics may teach that 
 the highest condition of body is ordinarily essential to the highest 
 state of mind. 
 
 7. Christianity is necessarily modified by the growth of 
 civilization, and the exigencies of times. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. the Catholic priesthood, though necessary in the 
 Middle Ages, may be superseded now. 
 
 8. There is a system of religion more simply true than 
 Christianity as it has ever been received. 
 
 Therefore, e.g. we may advance that Christianity is the "corn of 
 wheat" which has been dead for 1800 years, but at length will bear 
 fruit; and that Mahometanism is the manly religion, and existing 
 Christianity the womanish. 
 
 9. There is a right of Private Judgment : that is, there 
 is no existing authority on earth competent to interfere 
 with the liberty of individuals in reasoning and judging 
 for themselves about the Bible and its contents, as they 
 severally please. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. religious establishments requiring subscription are 
 Anti-christian. 
 
 10. There are rights of conscience such, that every one 
 may lawfully advance a claim to profess and teach what is 
 false and wrong in matters, religious, social, and moral, 
 provided that to his private conscience it seems absolutely 
 true and light. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. individuals have a right to preach and practise forni- 
 cation and polygamy. 
 
 11. There is no such thing as a national or state con- 
 science. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. no judgments can fall upon a sinful or infidel nation. 
 
296 NOTE A. 
 
 12. The civil power has no positive duty, in a normal 
 state of things, to maintain religious truth. 
 
 Therefore, e.g. blasphemy and sabbath-breaking are not rightly 
 punishable by law. 
 
 13. Utility and expedience are the measure of political 
 duty. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. no punishment may be enacted, on the ground that 
 God commands it : e. g. on the text, '* Whoso sheddeth man's blood, 
 by man shall his blood be shed." 
 
 14. The Civil Power may dispose of Church property 
 without sacrilege. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. Henry VIII. committed no sin in his spoliations. 
 
 15. The Civil Power has the right of ecclesiastical juris- 
 diction and administration. 
 
 Therefore, e.g. Parliament may impose articles of faith on the 
 Church or suppress Dioceses. 
 
 16. It is lawful to rise in arms against legitimate 
 princes. 
 
 Therefore, e.g. the Puritans in the 17th century, and the French in 
 the 18th, were justifiable in their Rebellion and Revolution respectively. 
 
 17. The people are the legitimate source of power. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. Universal Suffrage is among the natural rights of 
 man. 
 
 18. Yirtue is the child of knowledge, and vice of ignor- 
 ance. 
 
 Therefore, e. g. education, periodical literature, railroad travelling, 
 ventilation, drainage, and the arts of life, when fully carried out, serve 
 to make a population moral and happy. 
 
 All of these propositions, and many others too, were 
 familiar to me thirty years ago, as in the number of the 
 tenets of Liberalism, and, while I gave into none of them 
 except No. 12, and perhaps No. 11, and partly No. 1, 
 before I began to publish, so afterwards I wrote against 
 most of them in some part or other of my Anglican works. 
 
 If it is necessary to refer to a work, not simply my own, 
 
LIBERALISM. 297 
 
 but of the Tractarian school, which, contains a similar pro- 
 test, I should name the Lyra ApostoUca. This volume, 
 which by accident has been left unnoticed, except inciden- 
 tally, in my Narrative, was collected together from the 
 pages of the " British Magazine," in which its contents 
 originally appeared, and published in a separate form, im- 
 mediately after Hurrell Froude's death in 1836. Its 
 signatures, a, 0, y, 5, e, f, denote respectively as authors, 
 Mr. Bowden, Mr. Hurrell Froude, Mr. Keble, myself 
 Mr. Kobert Wilberforce, and Mr. Isaac Williams. 
 
 There is one poem on " Liberalism," beginning " Ye can- 
 not halve the Gospel of God's grace ; " which bears out the 
 account of Liberalism as above given ; and another upon 
 " the Age to come," defining from its own point of view 
 the position and prospects of Liberalism. 
 
 I need hardly say that the above Note is mainly his- 
 torical. How far the Liberal party of 1830-40 really 
 held the above eighteen Theses, which I attributed to them, 
 and how far and in what sense I should oppose those 
 Theses now, could scarcely be explained without a separate 
 Dissertation. 
 
298 NOTE B. 
 
 KOTE B. 01^ PAGE 23. 
 
 ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES. 
 
 The writer, who gave occasion for the foregoing Narra- 
 ti\re, was very severe with me for what I had said about 
 Miracles in the Preface to the Life of St. Walburga. I 
 observe therefore as follows : — 
 
 Catholics believe that miracles happen in any age of 
 the Church, though not for the same purposes, in the same 
 number, or with the same evidence, as in Apostolic times. 
 The Apostles wrought them in evidence of their divine 
 mission ; and with this object they have been sometimes 
 wrought by Evangelists of countries since, as even Pro- 
 testants allow. Hence we hear of them in the history of 
 St. Gregory in Pontus, and St. Martin in Gaul ; and in 
 their case, as in that of the Apostles, they were both 
 numerous and clear. As they are granted to Evangelists, 
 so are they granted, though in less measure and evidence, 
 to other holy men ; and as holy men are not found equally 
 at all times and in all places, therefore miracles are in 
 some places and times more than in others. And since, 
 generally, they are granted to faith and pra3'er, therefore 
 in a country in which faith and prayer abound, they will 
 be more likely to occur, than where and when faith and 
 prayer are not ; so that their occurrence is irregular. And 
 further, as faith and prayer obtain miracles, so still more 
 commonl}^ do they gain from above the ordinary interven- 
 tions of Providence ; and, as it is often very difficult to 
 distinguish between a providence and a miracle, and there 
 will be more providences than miracles, hence it will 
 happen that many occurrences will be called miraculous, 
 
ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES. 299 
 
 which, strictly speaking, are not such, that is, not more 
 than providential mercies, or what are sometimes called 
 "grazie" or "favours." * 
 
 Persons, who believe all this, in accordance with Catho- 
 lic teaching, as I did and do, they, on the report of a 
 miracle, will of necessity, the necessity of good logic, be 
 led to sa}^, first, '' It mai/ be," and secondly, *' But I must 
 have good evidence in order to believe it." 
 
 1. It may be, because miracles take place in all ages ; 
 it must be oledivlj proved, because perhaps after all it may be 
 only a providential mercy, or an exaggeration, or a mistake, 
 or an imposture. Well, this is precisely what I had said, 
 which the writer, who has given occasion to this Volume, 
 considered so irrational. I had said, as he quotes me, " In 
 this day, and tinder our present circumstances, we can only 
 reply, that there is no reason why they should not be." 
 Surely this is good logic, provided that miracles do occur 
 in all ages ; and so again I am logical in sajdng, " There is 
 nothing, prima facie, in the miraculous accounts in ques- 
 tion, to repel a properhj taught or religiously disposed 
 mind." What is the matter with this statement ? My 
 assailant does not pretend to say lohat the matter is, and 
 he cannot ; but he expresses a rude, unmeaning astonish- 
 ment. Accordingly, in the passage which he quotes, I 
 observe, " Miracles are the kind of facts proper to eccle- 
 siastical history, just as instances of sagacity or daring, 
 personal prowess, or crime, are the facts proper to secular 
 history." What is the harm of this ? 
 
 2. But, though a miracle be conceivable, it has to be 
 proved. What has to be proved? (1.) That the event 
 occurred as stated, and is not a false report or an ex- 
 aggeration. (2.) That it is clearly miraculous, and not a 
 mere providence or answer to prayer within the order of 
 nature. What is the fault of saying this ? The inquiry 
 is parallel to that which is made about some extraordinary 
 
300 ' NOTE B. 
 
 fact in secular history. Supposing I hear that King 
 Charles II. died a Catholic, I am led to say : It may be, 
 but what is your jt?roo/.^ 
 
 In my Essay on Miracles of the year 1826, I proposed 
 three questions about a professed miraculous occurrence : 
 ] . is it antecedently prohahle ? 2. is it in its nature cer- 
 tainly miraculous ? 3. has it sufficient evidence ? To these 
 three heads I had regard in my Essay of 1842 ; and under 
 them I still wish to conduct the inquiry into the miracles 
 of Ecclesiastical History. 
 
 So much for general principles ; as to St. Walburga, 
 though I have no intention at all of denying that nu- 
 merous miracles have been wrought by her intercession, 
 still, neither the Author of her Life, nor I, the Editor, 
 felt that we had grounds for binding ourselves to the 
 belief of certain alleged miracles in particular. I made, 
 however, one exception ; it was the medicinal oil which 
 flows from her relics. Now as to the verisimilitude^ the 
 miraciiloiisness, and the fact, of this medicinal oil. 
 
 1. The verisimilitude. It is plain there is nothing ex- 
 travagant in this report of her relics having a supernatural 
 virtue ; and for this reason, because there are such in- 
 stances in Scripture, and Scripture cannot be extravagant. 
 For instance, a man was restored to life by touching the 
 relics of the Prophet Eliseus. The sacred text runs thus : 
 — " And Elisha died, and they buried him. And the bands 
 of the Moabites invaded the land at the coming in of the 
 year. And it came to pass, as they were burying a man, 
 that, behold, they spied a band of men ; and they cast the 
 man into the sepulchre of Elisha. And, when the man 
 was let down, and touched the bones of Elisha, he revived, and 
 stood upon his feet." Again, in the case of an inanimate 
 substance, which had touched a living Saint : " And God 
 wrought special miracles by the hands of Paul; so that 
 
ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES. 301 
 
 from his body were brought unto the sick handkercliiefs or 
 aprons, and the diseases departed from them.^^ And again 
 in the case of a pool : " An Angel ivent doicn at a certain 
 season into the pool, and troubled the water; whosoever 
 then first, after the troubling of the water, stepped in, 
 icas made whole of tchatsoever disease he had." 2 Kings 
 [4 Kings] xiii. 20, 21. Acts xix. 11, 12. John v. 4. 
 Therefore there is nothing extravagant in the character of 
 the miracle. 
 
 2. Next, the matter of fact : —is there an oil flowing 
 from St. Walburga's tomb, which is medicinal ? To this 
 question I confined myself in my Preface. Of the ac- 
 counts of medieval miracles, I said that there was no extra- 
 vaga)ice in their general character, but I could not affirm 
 that there was always evidence for them. I could not 
 simply accept them as facts, but I could not reject them in 
 their nature ; — they might be true, for they were not im- 
 possible ; but they were not 2:>roved to be true, because 
 there was not trustworthy testimony. However, as to St. 
 Walburga, I repeat, I made one exception, the fact of the 
 medicinal oil, since for that miracle there was distinct and 
 successive testimonj^ And then I went on to give a chain 
 of witnesses. It was my duty to state what those wit- 
 nesses said in their very words ; so I gave the testimonies 
 in full, tracing them from the Saint's death. I said, ''She 
 is one of the principal Saints of her age and country." 
 Then I quoted Basnage, a Protestant, who says, " Six 
 writers are extant, who have employed themselves in 
 relating the deeds or miracles of Walburga." Then I 
 said that her '' renown was not the mere natural growth of 
 ages, but begins with the very century of the Saint's 
 death." Then I observed that only two miracles seem to 
 have been " distinctly reported of her as occurring in her 
 lifetime ; and they were handed down apparently by tra- 
 dition." Also, that such miracles are said to have com- 
 
302 KOTE B. 
 
 menced about a.d. 777. Then I spoke of tlie medicina] oil 
 as having testimony to it in 893, in 1306, after 1450, in 
 1615, and in 1620. Also, I said that Mabillon seems not 
 to have believed some of her miracles ; and that the earliest 
 witness had got into trouble with his Bishop. And so I 
 left the matter, as a question to be decided by evidence, 
 not deciding any thing myself. 
 
 What was the harm of all this ? but my Critic mud- 
 dled it together in a most extraordinary manner, and 
 I am far from sure that he knew himself the definite cate- 
 gorical charge which he intended it to convey against me. 
 One of his remarks is, " What has become of the holy oil 
 for the last 240 years. Dr. Newman does not say," p. 25. 
 Of course I did not, because I did not know ; I gave the 
 evidence as I found it ; he assumes that I had a point to 
 prove, and then asks why I did not make the evidence 
 larger than it was. 
 
 I can tell him more about it now : the oil still flows ; I 
 have had some of it in my possession ; it is medicinal still. 
 This leads to the third head. 
 
 3. Its miraculoiisness. On this point, since I have been 
 in the Catholic Church, I have found there is a difference 
 of opinion. Some persons consider that the oil is the 
 natural produce of the rock, and has ever flowed from it ; 
 others, that by a divine gift it flows from the relics ; and 
 others, allowing that it now comes naturally from the 
 rock, are disposed to hold that it was in its origin mira- 
 culous, as was the virtue of the pool of Bethsaida. 
 
 This point must be settled of course before the ™tue of 
 the oil can be ascribed to the sanctity of St. Walburga ; for 
 myself, I neither have, nor ever have had, the means of 
 going into the question ; but I will take the opportunity 
 of its having come before me, to make one or two remarks, 
 supplemental of what I have said on other occasions. 
 
ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES. 303 
 
 1. I frankly confess that the present advance of science 
 tends to make it probable that various facts take place, 
 and have taken place, in the order of nature, which 
 hitherto have been considered by Catholics as simply super- 
 natural. 
 
 2. Though I readily make this admission, it must not 
 be supposed in consequence that I am disposed to grant at 
 once, that every event was natural in point of fact, which 
 migJit have taken place by the laws of nature ; for it is 
 obvious, no Catholic can bind the Almighty to act only in 
 one and the same way, or to the observance always of His 
 own laws. An event which is possible in the way of na- 
 ture, is certainly possible too to Divine Power without 
 the sequence of natural cause and effect at all. A con- 
 flagration, to take a parallel, may be the work of an 
 incendiary, or the result of a flash of lightning; nor 
 would a jury think it safe to find a man guilty of arson, if 
 a dangerous thunderstorm was raging at the very time 
 when the fire broke out. In like manner, upon the hypo- 
 thesis that a miraculous dispensation is in operation, a 
 recovery from diseases to which medical science is equal, 
 may nevertheless in matter of fact have taken place, not 
 by natural means, but by a supernatural interposition. 
 That the Lawgiver always acts through His own laws, is 
 an assumption, of which I never saw proof. In a given 
 case, then, the possibility of assigning a human cause 
 for an event does not ipso facto prove that it is not 
 miraculous. 
 
 3. So far, however, is plain, that, till some experimentum 
 cnicis can be found, such as to be decisive against the 
 natural cause or the supernatural, an occurrence of this 
 kind will as little convince an unbeliever that there has 
 been a divine interference in the case, as it will drive the 
 Catholic to admit that there has been no interference at 
 all. 
 
304 NOTE B. 
 
 4. Still there is this gain accruing to the Catholic cause 
 from the larger views we now possess of the operation of 
 natural causes, viz. that our opponents will not in future 
 be so ready as hitherto, to impute fraud and falsehood to 
 our priests and their witnesses, on the ground of their pre- 
 tending or reporting things that are incredible. Our 
 opponents have again and again accused us of false wit- 
 ness, on account of statements which they now allow are 
 either true, or may have been true. They account indeed 
 for the strange facts very differently from us; but still 
 they allow that facts they were. It is a great thing to 
 have our characters cleared ; and we may reasonably hope 
 that, the next time our word is vouched for occurrences 
 which appear to be miraculous, our facts will be investi- 
 gated, not our testimony impugned. 
 
 5. Even granting that certain occurrences, which we 
 have hitherto accounted miraculous, have not absolutely a 
 claim to be so considered, nevertheless they constitute an 
 argument still in behalf of Revelation and the Church. 
 Providences, or what are called grazie, though they do not 
 rise to the order of miracles, yet, if they occur again and 
 again in connexion with the same persons, institutions, or 
 doctrines, may supply a cumulative evidence of the fact 
 of a supernatural presence in the quarter in which they 
 are found. I have already alluded to this point in my 
 Essay on Ecclesiastical Miracles, and I have a particular 
 reason, as will presently be seen, for referring here to 
 what I said in the course of it. 
 
 In that Essay, after bringing its main argument to an 
 end, I append to it a review of ''the evidence for particular 
 alleged miracles." "It does not strictly fall within the 
 scope of the Essay," I observe, *'to pronounce upon the 
 truth or falsehood of this or that miraculous narrative, as 
 it occurs in ecclesiastical history ; but only to furnish such 
 
ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES. 305 
 
 general considerations, as may be useful in forming a 
 decision in particular cases/' p. cv. However, I thought 
 it right to go farther and " to set down the evidence for 
 and against certain miracles as we meet with them," ibid. 
 In discussing these miracles separately, I make the fol- 
 lowing remarks, to which I have just been referring. 
 
 After discussing the alleged miracle of the Thundering 
 Legion, I observe: — "Nor does it concern us much to 
 answer the objection, that there is nothing strictly mira- 
 culous in such an occurrence, because sudden thunder- 
 clouds after drought are not unfrequent ; for, I would 
 answer. Grant me such miracles ordinarily in the early 
 Church, and I will ask no other ; grant that, upon prayer, 
 benefits are vouchsafed, deliverances are effected, unhoped- 
 for results obtained, sicknesses cured, tempests laid, pesti- 
 lences put to flight, famines remedied, judgments inflicted, 
 and there will be no need of analyzing the causes, whether 
 supernatural or natural, to which they are to be referred. 
 They may, or they may not, in this or that case, follow or 
 surpass the laws of nature, and they may do so plainly or 
 doubtfully, but the common sense of mankind will call 
 them miraculous; for by a miracle is popularly meant, 
 whatever be its formal definition, an event which im- 
 presses upon the mind the immediate presence of the 
 Moral Governor of the world. He may sometimes act 
 through nature, sometimes beyond or against it ; but 
 those who admit the fact of such interferences, will have 
 little difficulty in admitting also their strictly miraculous 
 character, if the circumstances of the case require it, and 
 those who deny miracles to the early Church will be 
 equally strenuous against allowing her the grace of such 
 intimate influence (if we may so speak) upon the course of 
 divine Providence, as is here in question, even though it 
 be not miraculous." — p. cxxi. 
 
 And again, speaking of the death of Arius : " But after 
 
306 NOTE B. 
 
 all, was it a miracle ? for, if not, we are labouring at a 
 proof of whicli nothing comoa. The more immediate 
 answer to this question has already been suggested several 
 times. When a Bishop with h^s flock prays night and 
 day against a heretic, and at length begs of God to take 
 him away, and when he is suddenly taken away, almost at 
 the moment of his triumph,, and that by a death awfully 
 significant, from its likeness to one recorded in Scripture, 
 is it not trifling to ask whether such, an occurrence comes 
 up to the definition of a miracle ? The question is not 
 whether it is formally a miracle, but whether it is an 
 event, the like of which persons, who deny that miracles 
 continue, will consent that the Church, should be consi- 
 dered still able to perform. If they are willing to allow 
 to the Church sucb extraordinary protection, it is for them 
 to draw the line to the satisfaction of people in general, 
 between these and strictly miraculous events ; if, on the 
 other hand, they deny their occurrence in the times of the 
 Church, then there is sufficient reason for our appealing 
 here to the history of Arius in proof of the affirmative." 
 — p. clxxii. 
 
 These remarks, thus made upon the Thundering Legion 
 and the death of Arius, must be applied, in consequence of 
 investigations made since the date of my Essay, to the ap- 
 parent miracle wrought in favour of the African confessors 
 in the Yandal persecution. Their tongues were cut out 
 by the Arian tyrant, and yet they spoke as before. In 
 my Essay I insisted on this fact as being strictly miracu- 
 lous. Among other remarks (referring to the instances 
 adduced by Middleton and others in disparagement of the 
 miracle, viz. of a "a girl born without a tongue, who yet 
 talked as distinctly and easily, as if she had enjoyed the 
 full benefit of that organ," and of a boy who lost his 
 tongue at the age of eight or nine, j^et retained his speech, 
 whether perfectly or not,) I said, "Does Middleton mean 
 
ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES. 307 
 
 to say, that, if certain of men lost their tongues at the 
 command of a tyrant for the sake of their religion, and then 
 spoke as plainly as before, nay if only one person was so 
 mutilated and so gifted, it would not be a miracle ?" — 
 p. cox. And I enlarged upon the minute details of the 
 fact as reported to us by eye-witnesses and contemporaries. 
 "Out of the seven writers adduced, six are contemporaries; 
 three, if not four, are eye-witnesses of the miracle. One 
 reports from an eye-witness, and one testifies to a fervent 
 record at the burial-place of the subjects of it. All seven 
 were living, or had been staying, at one or other of the 
 two places which are mentioned as their abode. One is a 
 Pope, a second a Catholic Bishop, a third a Bishop of a 
 schismatical partj^, a fourth an emperor, a fifth a soldier, 
 a politician, and a suspected infidel, a sixth a statesman 
 and courtier, a seventh a rhetorician and philosopher. 
 ' He cut out the tongues by the roots,' says Victor, Bishop 
 of Yito ; ' I perceived the tongues entirely gone by the 
 roots,' says ^neas ; ' as low down as the throat,' says 
 Procopius ; ' at the roots,' say Justinian and St. Gregory ; 
 ' he spoke like an educated man, without impediment,' 
 says Yictor of Yito ; ' with articulateness,' says ^neas ; 
 * better than before ; ' ' they talked without any impedi- 
 ment,' says Procopius ; 'speaking with perfect voice,' 
 says Marcellinus ; ' they spoke perfectly, even to the end,' 
 says the second Yictor ; ' the words were formed, full, and 
 perfect,' says St. Gregory." — p. ccviii. 
 
 However, a few years ago an Article appeared in " Notes 
 and Queries " (No. for May 22, 1858), in which various 
 evidence was adduced to show that the tongue is not ne- 
 cessary for articulate speech. 
 
 1. Col. Churchill, in his "Lebanon," speaking of the 
 cruelties of Djezzar Pacha, in extracting to the root the 
 tongues of some Emirs, adds, '* It is a curious fact, how- 
 
308 NOTE B. 
 
 ever, that tlie tongues grow again sufficiently for tlie 
 purposes of speech." 
 
 2. Sir John Malcolm, in his "Sketches of Persia," 
 speaks of Zab, Khan of Khisht, who was condemned to lose 
 his tongue. " This mandate," he says, " was imperfectly 
 executed, and the loss of half this member deprived him 
 of speech. Being afterwards persuaded that its being cut 
 close to the root would enable him to speak so as to be 
 understood, he submitted to the operation ; and the effect 
 has been, that his voice, though indistinct and thick, is yet 
 intelligible to persons accustomed to converse with him. 
 ... I am not an anatomist, and I cannot therefore give a 
 reason, why a man, who could not articulate with half a 
 tongue, should speak when he had none at all; but the 
 facts are as stated." 
 
 3. And Sir John McNeill says, " In answer to your 
 inquiries about the powers of speech retained by persons 
 who have had their tongues cut out, I can state from per- 
 sonal observation, that several persons whom I knew in 
 Persia, who had been subjected to that punishment, spoke 
 so intelligibly as to be able to transact important business. 
 . . . The conviction in Persia is universal, that the power 
 of speech is destroyed by merely cutting off the tip of the 
 tongue ; and is to a useful extent restored by cutting off 
 another portion as far back as a perpendicular section can 
 be made of the portion that is free from attachment at the 
 lower surface. ... I never had to meet with a person 
 who had suffered this punishment, who could not speak so 
 as to be quite intelligible to his familiar associates." 
 
 I should not be honest, if I professed to be simply con- 
 verted, by these testimonies, to the belief that there was 
 nothing miraculous in the case of the African confessors. 
 rt is quite as fair to be sceptical on one side of the question 
 
ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES. 309 
 
 as on the other ; and if Gibbon is considered worthy of praise 
 for his stubborn incredulity in receiving the evidence 
 for this miracle, I do not see why I am to be blamed, if I 
 wish to be quite sure of the full appositeness of the recent 
 evidence which is brought to its disadvantage. Questions 
 of fact cannot be disproved by analogies or presumptions ; 
 the inquiry must be made into the particular case in all 
 its parts, as it comes before us. Meanwhile, I fully allow 
 that the points of evidence brought in disparagement of 
 the miracle are prima facie of such cogency, that, till they 
 are proved to be irrelevant, Catholics are prevented from 
 appealing to it for controversial purposes. 
 
3i0 NOTE C. 
 
 NOTE 0. ON PAGE 153. 
 
 SERMON ON WISDOM AND INNOCENCE. 
 
 The professed basis of the charge of lying and equivoca- 
 tion made against me, and, in my person, against the 
 Catholic clergy, was, as I have already noticed in the 
 Preface, a certain Sermon of mine on "Wisdom and Inno- 
 cence," being the 20th in a series of "Sermons on Subjects 
 of the Day,'' written, preached, and published while I was 
 an Anglican. Of this Sermon my accuser spoke thus in 
 his Pamphlet : — 
 
 " It is occupied entirely with the attitude of ' the world ' to * Christians ' 
 and * the Church.' By the world appears to be signified, especially, the Pro- 
 testant public of these realms ; what Dr. Newman means by Christians, and 
 the Church, he has not left in doubt ; for in the preceding Sermon he says : 
 ' But if the truth must be spoken, what are the humble monk and the holy 
 nun, and other regulars, as they are called, but Christians after the very pattern 
 given us in Scripture, &c.' .... This is his definition of Christians. And 
 in the Sermon itself, he sufficiently defines what he means by 'the Church,' in 
 two notes of her character, which he shall give in his own words : ' What, for 
 instance, though we grant that sacramental confession and the celibacy of the 
 clergy do tend to consolidate the body politic in the relation of rulers and 
 subjects, or, in other words, to aggrandize the priesthood ? for how can the 
 Church be one body without such relation ?' " — Pp. 8, 0. 
 
 He then proceeded to analyze and comment on it at 
 great length, and to criticize severely the method and tone 
 of my Sermons generally. Among other things, he 
 said: — 
 
 *' What, then, did the Sermon mean ? Why was it preached ? To insinu- 
 ate that a Church which had sacramental confession and a celibate clergy was 
 the only true Church ? Or to insinuate that the admiring young gentlemen 
 who listened to him stood to their fellow-countrymen in the relation of the 
 early Christians to the heathen Romans ? Or that Queen Victoria's Govern- 
 ment was to the Church of Eigland what Nero's or Dioclesian's was to the 
 
SERMON OX WISDOM AND INNOCENCE. 311 
 
 Church of Rome ? It may have been so. I know that men used to suspect 
 Dr. Newman, — I have been inclined to do so myself,— of writing a whole 
 Sermon, not for the sake of the text or of the matter, but for the sake of one 
 single passing hint — one phrase, one epithet, one little barbed arrow, which, 
 as he swept magnificently past on the stream of his calm eloquence, seemingly 
 unconscious of all presences, save those unseen, he delivered unheeded, as 
 with his finger-tip, to the very heart of an initiated hearer, never to be with- 
 drawn again. I do not blame him for that. It is one of the highest triumphs 
 of oratoric power, and may be employed honestly and fairly by any person who 
 has the skill to do it honestly and fairly ; but then, Why did he entitle his 
 Sermon ' Wisdom and Innocence ? ' 
 
 " What, then, could I think that Dr. Newman meant ? I found a preacher 
 bidding Christians imitate, to some undefined point, the ' arts ' of the 
 basest of animals, and of men, and of the devil himself. I found him, by 
 a strange perversion of Scripture, insinuating that St Paul's conduct and 
 manner were such as naturally to bring down on him the reputation of being a 
 crafty deceiver. I found him— horrible to say it — even hinting the same of 
 one greater than St. Paul. I found him denying or explaining away the 
 existence of that Priestcraft, which is a notorious fact to every honest student 
 of history, and justifying (as far as I can understand him) that double-dealing 
 by which prelates, in the middle age, too often played off alternately the 
 sovereign against the people, and the people against the sovereign, careless 
 which was in the right, so long as their own power gained by the move. I 
 found him actually using of such (and, as I thought, of himself and his party 
 likewise) the words ' They yield outwardly ; to assent inwardly were to betray 
 the faith. Yet they are called deceitful and double-dealing, because they do 
 as much as they can, and not more than they may.' I found him telling 
 Christians that they will always seem ' artificial,' and ' wanting in openness 
 and manliness ; ' that they will always be * a mystery ' to the world, and that 
 the world will always think them rogues ; and bidding them glory in what the 
 world (i. e. the rest of their countrymen), disown, and say with Mawworra, 
 * I like to be despised.' 
 
 " Now, how was I to know that the preacher, who had the reputation of 
 being the most acute man of his generation, and of having a specially intimate 
 acquaintance with the weaknesses of the human heart, was utterly bHnd to the 
 broad meaning and the plain practical result of a Sermon like this, dehvered 
 before fanatic and hot-headed young men, who hung upon his every word ? 
 that he did not foresee that they would think that they obeyed him by becom- 
 ing affected, artificial, sly, shifty, ready for concealments and equivocations ?" 
 &c. &c.— Pp. 14— IG. 
 
 My accuser asked in this passage what did the Sermon 
 mean^ and why was it preached. I will here answer 
 this question ; and with this view will speak, first of 
 
312 NOTE C. 
 
 the matter of the Sermon, then of its subject, then of its 
 circumstances. 
 
 1. It was one of the last six Sermons which I wrote 
 when I was an An2:lican. It was one of the five Sermons 
 I preached in St. Mary's between Christmas and Easter, 
 1843, the year when I gave up my Living. The MS. of 
 the Sermon is destroyed ; but I believe, and my memory 
 too bears me out, as far as it goes, that the sentence in 
 question about Celibacy and Confession, of which this writer 
 would make so much, was not preached at all. The Volume, 
 in which this Sermon is found, was published after that I 
 had given up St. Mary's, when I had no call on me to 
 restrain the expression of any thing which I might hold : 
 and I stated an important fact about it in the Advertise- 
 ment, in these words : — 
 
 **In preparing [these Sermons] for publication, a few words and sentences 
 have in several places been added, which will be found to express more of 
 private or personal opinion, than it was expedient to introduce into the 
 instruction delivered in Church to a parochial Congregation. Such introduc- 
 tion, however, seems unobjectionable in the case of compositions, which are 
 detached from the sacred place and service to which they once belonged, and 
 submitted to the reason and judgment of the general reader." 
 
 This Volume of Sermons then cannot be criticized at all 
 as preachments ; they are essays ; essays of a man who, at the 
 time of publishing them, was not a preacher. Such passages, 
 as that in question, are just the very ones which I added 
 iqoon my publishing them ; and, as I alwaj^s was on my guard 
 in the pulpit against saying any thing which looked towards 
 Home, I shall believe that I did not preach the obnoxious 
 sentence till some one is found to testify that he heard it. 
 
 At the same time I cannot conceive why the mention of 
 Sacramental Confession, or of Clerical Celibacy, had I made 
 it, was inconsistent with the position of an Anglican 
 Clergyman. For Sacramental Confession and Absolution 
 actually form a portion of the Anglican Visitation of the 
 
SERMON ON WISDOM AND INNOCENCE. 313 
 
 Sick ; and though, the 32nd Article says that " Bishops, 
 priests, and deacons, are not commanded by God's law 
 either to vow the state of single life or to abstain from 
 marriage," and " therefore it is laivful for them to marry," 
 this proposition I did not dream of denying, nor is it in- 
 consistent with St. Paul's doctrine, which I held, that it 
 is ^^ good to abide even as he," i. e. in celibacy. 
 
 But I have more to say on this point. This writer says, 
 ^' I know that men used to suspect Dr. Newman, — I have 
 been inclined to do so myself,— of ivriting a ivhole Sermon, 
 not for the sake of the text or of the matter, but for the sake 
 of one simple passing hint, — one phrase, one epithet." 
 Kow observe ; can there be a plainer testimony borne to 
 the practical character of my Sermons at St. Mary's than 
 this gratuitous insinuation ? Many a preacher of Trac- 
 tarian doctrine has been accused of not letting his 
 parishioners alone, and of teasing them with his private 
 theological notions. The same report was spread about me 
 twenty years ago as this writer spreads now, and the world 
 believed that my Sermons at St. Mary's were full of red- 
 hot Tractarianism. Then strangers came to hear me 
 preach, and were astonished at their own disappointment. 
 I recollect the wife of a great prelate from a distance 
 coming to hear me, and then expressing her surprise to 
 find that I preached nothing but a plain humdrum Ser- 
 mon. I recollect how, when on the Sunday before Com- 
 memoration one year, a number of strangers came to hear 
 me, and I preached in my usual way, residents in Oxford, 
 of high position, were loud in their satisfaction that on a 
 great occasion, I had made a simple failure, for after all 
 there was nothing in the Sermon to hear. "Well, but they 
 were not going to let me off, for all my common-sense 
 view of duty. Accordingly they got up the charitable 
 theory which this Writer revives. They said that there 
 was a double purpose in those plain addresses of mine, 
 
314 NOTE C. 
 
 and that my Sermons were never so artful as when they 
 seemed common-place ; that there were sentences which 
 redeemed their apparent simplicity and quietness. So they 
 watched during the delivery of a Sermon, which to them 
 was too practical to be useful, for the concealed point of 
 it, which they could at least imagine, if they could not 
 discover. " Men used to suspect Dr. Newman," he says, 
 " of writing a ichole Sermon, not for the sake of the text or 
 of the matter, but for the sake of one single passing hint, 
 . . . one phrase, one epithet, one little barbed arrow, which, 
 as he 8icept magnificently past on the stream of his calm 
 eloquence, seemingly unconscious of all presences, save those 
 unseen, he delivered unheeded," &c. To all appearance, 
 he says, I was '' unconscious of all presences." He is not 
 able to deny that the " whole Sermon " had the appearanee 
 of being "for the sake of the text and matter ; ^' therefore 
 he suggests that perhaps it wasn't. 
 
 2. And now as to the subject of the Sermon. The 
 Sermons of which the Volume consists are such as are, 
 more or less, exceptions to the rule which I ordinarily 
 observed, as to the subjects which I introduced into the 
 pulpit of St. Mary's. They are not purely ethical or 
 doctrinal. The}^ were for the most part caused by circum- 
 stances of the day or of the moment, and they belong to 
 various years. One was written in 1832, two in 1836, 
 two in 1838, five in 1840, five in 1841, four in 1842, seven 
 in 1843. Many of them are engaged on one subject, viz. 
 in viewing the Church in its relation to the world. By 
 the world was meant, not simply those multitudes which 
 were not in the Church, but the existing body of human 
 society, whether in the Church or not, whether Catholics, 
 Protestants, Greeks, or Mahometans, theists or idolaters, 
 as being ruled by principles, maxims, and instincts of their 
 own, that is, of an unregenerate nature, whatever their 
 
SERMON ON WISDOM AND INNOCENCE. 315 
 
 supernatural privileges might be, greater or less, according 
 to their form of religion. This view of the relation of the 
 Church to the world as taken apart from questions of 
 ecclesiastical politics, as they may be called, is often 
 brought out in my Sermons. Two occur to me at once ; 
 No. 3 of my Plain Sermons, which was written in 1829, 
 and 'No: 15 of my Third Yolume of Parochial, written in 
 1835. On the other hand, by Church I meant, — in common 
 with all writers connected with the Tract Movement, what- 
 ever their shades of opinion, and with the whole body 
 of English divines, except those of the Puritan or Evan- 
 gelical School, — the whole of Christendom, from the 
 Apostles' time till now, whatever their later divisions into 
 Latin, Greek, and Anglican. I have explained this view 
 of the subject above at pp. 69 — 71 of this Volume. 
 When then I speak, in the particular Sermon before us, 
 of the members, or the rulers, or the action of " the 
 Church," I mean neither the Latin, nor the Greek, nor 
 the English, taken by itself, but of the whole Church as 
 one body : of Italy as one with England, of the Saxon or 
 Dsorman as one with the Caroline Church. T/iis was 
 specially the one Church, and the points in which one 
 branch or one period differed from another were not and 
 could not be Notes of the Church, because Notes neces- 
 sarily belong to the whole of the Church every where 
 and always. 
 
 This being my doctrine as to the relation of the Church 
 to the world, I laid down in the Sermon three principles 
 concerning it, and there left the matter. The first is, that 
 Divine Wisdom had framed for its action laws, which man, 
 if left to himself, would have antecedently pronounced to 
 be the worst possible for its success, and which in all ages 
 have been called by the world, as they were in the 
 Apostles' days, "foolishness;" that man ever relies on 
 physical and material force, and on carnal inducements, — 
 
316 NOTE C. 
 
 as Mahomet with, his sword and his hour is, or indeed 
 almost as that theory of religion, called, since the Sermon 
 was written, "muscular Christianity;" but that our Lord, 
 on the contrary, has substituted meekness for haughtiness, 
 passiveness for violence, and innocence for craft : and that 
 the event has shown the high wisdom of such an economy, 
 for it has brought to light a set of natural laws, unknown 
 before, by which the seeming paradox that weakness should 
 be stronger than might, and simplicity than worldly policy, 
 is readily explained. 
 
 Secondly, I said that men of the world, judging by the 
 event, and not recognizing the secret causes of the success, 
 viz. a higher order of natural laws, — natural, though their 
 source and action were supernatural, (for *'the meek inherit 
 the earth," by means of a meekness which comes from 
 above,) — these men, I say, concluded, that the success 
 which they witnessed must arise from some evil secret 
 which the world had not mastered, — by means of magic, 
 as they said in the first ages, by cunning as they say now. 
 And accordingly they thought that the humility and in- 
 ofiensiveness of Christians, or of Churchmen, was a mere 
 pretence and blind to cover the real causes of that success, 
 which Christians could explain and would not ; and that 
 they were simply hypocrites. 
 
 Thirdly, I suggested that shrewd ecclesiastics, who knew 
 very well that there was neither magic nor craft in the 
 matter, and, from their intimate acquaintance with what 
 actually went on within the Church, discerned what were 
 the real causes of its success, were of course under the 
 temptation of substituting reason for conscience, and, 
 instead of simply obeying the command, were led to do 
 good that good might come, that is, to act in order to 
 secure success, and not from a motive of faith. Some, I 
 said, did yield to the temptation more or less, and their 
 motives became mixed ; and in this way the world in a 
 
SERMON ON WISDOM AND INNOCENCE. 317 
 
 more subtle shape had got into the Church ; and hence it 
 had come to pass, that, looking at its history from first to 
 last, we could not possibly draw the line between good and 
 evil there, and say either that every thing was to be defended, 
 or certain things to be condemned. I expressed the diffi- 
 culty, which I supposed to be inherent in the Church, in 
 the following words. I said, "Priestcraft has ever been 
 considered the badge, and its imputation is a kind of Note 
 of the Church : and in part indeed truly, because the pre- 
 sence of powerful enemies, and the sense of their own 
 weakness, Jias sometimes tempted Christians to the abuse, 
 instead of the use of Christian tcisdom, to be wise xcithout 
 being harmless; but partly, nay, for the most part, not 
 truly, but slanderously, and merely because the world 
 called their wisdom craft, when it was found to be a match 
 for its own numbers and power." 
 
 Such is the substance of the Sermon : and as to the 
 main drift of it, it was this ; that I was, there and else- 
 where, scrutinizing the course of the Church as a whole, 
 as if philosophically, as an historical phenomenon, and 
 observing the laws on which it was conducted. Hence 
 the Sermon, or Essay as it more truly is, is written in a 
 dry and unimpassioned way : it shows as little of human 
 warmth of feeling as a Sermon of Bishop Butler's. Yet, 
 under that calm exterior there was a deep and keen sensi- 
 tiveness, as I shall now proceed to show. 
 
 3. If I mistake not, it was written with a secret thought 
 about myself. Every one preaches according to his frame 
 of mind, at the time of preaching. One heaviness espe- 
 cially oppressed me at that season, which this "Writer, 
 twenty years afterwards, has set himself with a good will to 
 renew : it arose from the sense of the base calumnies which 
 were heaped upon me on all sides. It is worth observing that 
 this Sermon is exactly contemporaneous with the report 
 
318 NOTE C. 
 
 spread by a Bishop {vid. siipr. p. 181), that I had advised 
 a clergyman converted to Catholicism to retain his Living. 
 This report was in circulation in February 1843, and my 
 Sermon was preached on the 19th. In the trouble of mind 
 into which I was thrown by such calumnies as this, I 
 gained, while I reviewed the history of the Church, at 
 once an argument and a consolation. My argument was 
 this : if I, who knew my own innocence, was so blackened 
 by party prejudice, perhaps those high rulers and those 
 servants of the Church, in the many ages which intervened 
 between the early Nicene times and the present, who were 
 laden with such grievous accusations, were innocent also ; 
 and this reflection served to make me tender towards those 
 great names of the past, to whom weaknesses or crimes 
 were imputed, and reconciled me to difficulties in eccle- 
 siastical proceedings, which there were no means now of 
 properly explaining. And the sympathy thus excited for 
 them, re-acted on myself, and I found comfort in being 
 able to put myself under the shadow of those who had 
 suffered as I was suffering, and who seemed to promise me 
 their recompense, since I had a fellowship in their trial. 
 In a letter to my Bishop at the time of Tract 90, part of 
 which I have quoted, I said that I had ever tried to 
 " keep innocency ; " and now two years had passed since 
 then, and men were louder and louder in heaping on me 
 the very charges, which this Writer repeats out of my 
 Sermon, of " fraud and cunning," " craftiness and deceit- 
 falness," "double-dealing," "priestcraft," of being "mys- 
 terious, dark, subtle, designing," when I was all the time 
 conscious to myself, in my degree, and after my measure, 
 of " sobriety, self-restraint, and control of word and feel- 
 ing." I had had experience how my past success had 
 been imputed to "secret management;" and how, when I 
 had shown surprise at that success, that surprise again was 
 imputed to " deceit ; " and how my honest heartfelt sub- 
 
SERMON ON WISDOM AND INNOCENCE. 319 
 
 mission to authority had been called, as it was called in a 
 Bishop's charge abroad, " mystic humility ;" and how my 
 silence was called an ''hypocrisy ;" and my faithfulness to 
 my clerical engagements a secret correspondence with the 
 enemy. And I found a way of destroying my sensitiyeness 
 about these things which jarred upon my sense of justice, 
 and otherwise would haye been too much for me, by the 
 contemplation of a large law of the Diyine Dispensation, 
 and felt- myself more and more able to bear in my own 
 person a present trial, of which in my past writings I had 
 expressed an anticipation. 
 
 For thus feeling and thus speaking this Writer com- 
 pares me to " Maw worm." " I found him telling Chris- 
 tians," he says, "that they will always seem 'artificial,' 
 and ' wanting in openness and manliness ;' that they will 
 always be ' a mystery ' to the world ; and that the world 
 will always think them rogues ; and bidding them glory 
 in what the world (that is, the rest of their fellow-country- 
 men) disown, and say with Mawworm, ' I like to be 
 despised.' Now how was I to know that the preacher . . . 
 was utterly blind to the broad meaning and the plain 
 practical result of a Sermon like this deliyered before 
 fanatic and hot-headed young men, who hung upon his 
 every word?" — Fanatic and hot-headed young men, who 
 hung on my every word ! If he had undertaken to write 
 a history, and not a romance, he would haye easily found 
 out, as I haye said aboye, that from 1841 I had severed 
 myself from the younger generation of Oxford, that Dr. 
 Pusey and I had then closed our theological meetings at his 
 house, that I had brought my own weekly evening parties 
 to an end, that I preached only by fits and starts at St. 
 Mary's, so that the attendance of young men was broken 
 up, that in those very weeks from Christmas till over 
 Easter, during which this Sermon was preached, I was 
 but five times in the pulpit there. He would have found, 
 
320 KOTE c. 
 
 that it was written at a time when I was shunned rather 
 than sought, when I had great sacrifices in anticipation, 
 when I was thinking much of myself; that I was ruth- 
 lessly tearing myself away from my own followers, and 
 that, in the musings of that Sermon, I was at the very 
 utmost only delivering a testimony in my behalf for time 
 to come, not sowing my rhetoric broadcast for the chance 
 of present sympathy. 
 
 Again, he says: "I found him actually using of such 
 [prelates], (and, as I thought, of himself and his party like- 
 wise,) the words 'They yield outwardly; to assent inwardly 
 were to betray the faith. Yet they are called deceitful and 
 double-dealing, because they do as much as they can, not 
 more than they may.' " This too is a proof of my dupli- 
 city ! Let this writer, in his dealings with some one else, 
 go just a little further than he has gone with me ; and let 
 him get into a court of law for libel ; and let him be con- 
 victed ; and let him still fancy that his libel, though a libel, 
 was true, and let us then see whether he will not in such a 
 case "yield outwardly," without assenting internally ; and 
 then again whether we should please him, if we called him 
 " deceitful and double-dealing," because " he did as much 
 as he could, not more than he ought to do." But Tract 90 
 will supply a real illustration of what I meant. I yielded 
 to the Bishops in outward act, viz. in not defending the 
 Tract, and in closing the Series ; but, not only did I not 
 assent inwardly to any condemnation of it, but I opposed 
 myself to the proposition of a condemnation on the part of 
 authority. Yet I was then by the public called " deceitful 
 and double-dealing," as this Writer calls me now, "be- 
 cause I did as much as I felt I could do, and not more than 
 I felt I could honestly do." Many were the publications 
 of the day and the private letters, which accused me of 
 shuffling, because I closed the Series of Tracts, yet kept 
 the Tracts on sale, as if I ought to comply not only with 
 
SERMOX ON WISDOM AND INNOCENCE. 321 
 
 what my Bistiop asked, but with what he did not ask, and 
 perhaps did not wish. However, such teaching, according 
 to this Writer, was likely to make young men " suspect, 
 that truth was not a virtue for its own sake, but only for 
 the sake of the spread of * Catholic opinions,' and the 
 ' salvation of their own souls ;' and that cunning was 
 the weapon which heaven had allowed to them to defend 
 themselves against the persecuting Protestant public." — 
 p. 16. 
 
 And now I draw attention to a further point. He says, 
 '' How was I to know that the preacher . . did not fore- 
 see, that [fanatic and hot-headed young men] would think 
 that they obeyed him, by becoming affected, artificial, sly, 
 shifty, ready for concealments and equivocations V^ " How 
 should he know ! " What ! I suppose that we are to think 
 every man a knave till he is proved not to be such. Know ! 
 had he no friend to tell him whether I was "affected" or 
 "artificial" myself? Could he not have done better than 
 impute equivocations to me, at a time when I was in no 
 sense answerable for the amphihologia of the Roman 
 casuists ? Had he a single fact which belongs to me per- 
 sonally or by profession to couple my name with equivoca- 
 tion in 1843 ? " How should he know" that I was not 
 sly, smooth, artificial, non-natural ! he should know by 
 that common manly frankness, by which we put confidence 
 in others, till they are proved to have forfeited it ; he 
 should know it by my own words in that very Sermon, in 
 which I say it is best to be natural, and that reserve is at 
 best but an unpleasant necessity. For I say there ex- 
 pressly : — 
 
 ** I do not deny that there is something very engaging in a frank and unpre- 
 tending mannei" ; some persons have it more than others ; in some persotis it is 
 a great grace. But it must be recollected that I am speaking of times of per- 
 secution and oppression to Christians, such as the text foretells ; and then 
 surely frankness will become nothing else than indignation at the oppressor, 
 
 Y 
 
322 NOTE c. 
 
 and vehement speech, if it is permitted. Accordingly, as personss have deep 
 feeUngs, so they will find the necessity of self-control, lest they should say 
 what they ought not." 
 
 He suras up thus : 
 
 "If [Dr. Newman] would . . . persist (as in this Sermon) in dealing with 
 matters dark, offensive, doubtful, sometimes actually forbidden, at least accord- 
 ing to the notions of the great majority of English Churchmen; if he would 
 always do so in a tentative, paltering way, seldom or never letting the world 
 know how much he believed, how far he intended to go; if, in a word, his 
 method of teaching was a suspicious one, what wonder if the minds of men 
 were filled with suspicions of him ? " — p. I7. 
 
 Now, in the course of my Narrative, I have frankly 
 admitted that I was tentative in such of my works as fairly 
 allowed of the introduction into them of religious inquiry ; 
 but he is speaking of my Sermons ; where, then, is his 
 proof that in my Sermons I dealt in matters dark, offen- 
 sive, doubtful, actually forbidden ? He must show that I 
 was tentative in my Sermons ; and he has the range of 
 eight volumes to gather evidence in. As to the ninth, my 
 University Sermons, of course I was tentative in them ; 
 but not because *' I would seldom or never let the world 
 know how much I believed, or how far I intended to go ;" 
 but because University Sermons are commonly, and allow- 
 ably, of the nature of disquisitions, as preached before a 
 learned body; and because in deep subjects, which had 
 not been fully investigated, I said as much as I believed, 
 and about as far as I saw I could go ; and a man cannot 
 do more ; and I account no man to be a philosopher who 
 attempts to do more. 
 
SERIES OF saints' LIVES OF 1843-4. 823 
 
 NOTE D. ON PAGE 213. 
 
 SEHIES OF saints' LIVES OF 1843-4. 
 
 I HAVE here an opportunity of preserving, what other- 
 wise would be lost, the Catalogue of English Saints which 
 I formed, as preparatory to the Series of their Lives which 
 was begun in the above years. It is but a first Essay, and 
 has many obvious imperfections ; but it may be useful to 
 others as a step towards a complete hagiography for Eng- 
 land. For instance St. Osberga is omitted; I suppose 
 because it was not easy to learn any thing about her. 
 Boniface of Canterbury is inserted, though passed over by 
 the Bollandists on the ground of the absence of proof of a 
 cultus having been paid to him. The Saints of Cornwall 
 were too numerous to be attempted. Among the men of 
 note, not Saints, King Edward 11. is included from piety 
 towards the founder of Oriel College. With these admis- 
 sions I present my Paper to the reader. 
 
 Preparing for Publication, in Periodical Numbers, in small Svo, The 
 Lives of the 'English Saints, Edited by the Rev. John Senrg Newman, 
 B.D., Felloio of Oriel College. 
 
 It is the compensation of the disorders and perplexities of these latter times 
 of the Church that we have the history of the foregoing. We indeed of this 
 day have been reserved to witness a disorganization of the City of God, which 
 it never entered into the minds of the early believers to imagine : but we are 
 witnesses also of its triumphs and of its luminaries through those many ages 
 which have brought about the misfortunes which at present overshadow it. 
 If they were blessed who lived in primitive times, and saw the fresh traces 
 of their Lord, and heard the echoes of Apostolic voices, blessed too are we 
 whose special portion it is to see that same Lord revealed in His Saints. 
 
324 NOTE D. 
 
 The wondei's of His grace in the soul of man, its creative power, its inex- 
 liaustible resources, its manifold operation, all this we know, as they knew it 
 not. They never heard the names of St. Gregory, St. Bernard, St. Francis, 
 and St. Louis. In fixing our thoughts then, as in an undertaking like the 
 present, on the History of the Saints, we are but availing ourselves of that 
 solace and recompense of our peculiar trials which has been provided for our 
 need by our Gracious Master. 
 
 And there are special reasons at this time for recurring to the Saints of 
 our own dear and glorious, most favoured, yet most erring and most un- 
 fortunate England. Such a recurrence may serve to make us love our 
 country better, and on truer grounds, than heretofore ; to teach us to invest 
 her territory, her cities and villages, her hills and springs, with sacred asso- 
 ciations ; to give us an insight into her present historical position in the 
 course of the Divine Dispensation; to instruct us in the capabilities of the 
 English character ; and to open upon us the duties and the hopes to which 
 that Church is heir, which was in former times the Mother of St. Boniface 
 and St. Ethelreda. 
 
 Even a selection or specimens of the Hagiology of our country may suffice 
 for some of these high pvirposes ; and in so wide and rich a field of research 
 it is almost presumptuous in one undertaking to aim at more than such a 
 partial exhibition. The list that follows, though by no means so large as 
 might have been drawn up, exceeds the limits which the Editor proposes to 
 his hopes, if not to his wishes ; but, whether it is allowed him to accomplish 
 a larger or smaller portion of it, it will be his aim to complete such subjects 
 or periods as he begins before bringing it to a close. It is hardly necessary 
 to observe that any list that is producible in this stage of the undertaking 
 can but approximate to correctness and completeness in matters of detail, 
 and even in the names which are selected to compose it. 
 
 He has considered himself at liberty to include in the Series such saints as 
 have been born in England, though they have lived and laboured out of it ; 
 and such, again, as have been in any sufiicient way connected with our 
 country, though born out of it ; for instance, Missionaries or Preachers in it, 
 or spiritual or temporal inilers, or founders of religious institutions or houses. 
 
 He has also included in the Series a few eminent or holy persons, who, 
 though not in the Sacred Catalogue, are recommended to our rehgious 
 memory by their fame, learning, or the benefits they have conferred on 
 posterity. These have been distinguished from the Saints by printing their 
 names in italics. 
 
 It is proposed to page all the longer Lives separately ; the shorter wWl be 
 thrown together in one. They will be published in monthly issues of not 
 more than 128 pages each ; and no regularity, whether of date or of subject, 
 will be observed in the order of publication. But they will be so numbered 
 as to admit ultimately of a general chronological an-angement. 
 
 The separate writers are distinguished by letters subjoined to each Life : 
 
SERIES OF saints' LIVES OF 1843-4. 
 
 325 
 
 and it should be added, to prevent misapprehension, that, since under the 
 present circumstances of our Church, they are necessarily of various, though 
 not divergent, doctrinal opinions, no one is answerable for any composition 
 but his own. At the same time, the work professing an historical and ethical 
 character, questions of theology will be, as far as possible, thrown into the 
 back ground. 
 
 J. H. N. 
 Littlemore, Se^t. 9, 1843. 
 
 CALENDAR OF ENGLISH SAINTS. 
 
 JAOTJARY. 
 
 FEBRUARY. 
 
 1 Elvan, B. and Medwjme, C. 
 
 1 
 
 2 Martyrs of Lichfield. 
 
 2 Laurence, Archb. 
 
 3 Melorus, M. 
 
 3 Wereburga, V. 
 
 4 
 
 4 Gilbert, A. Liephard, B.M. 
 
 5 Edward, K.C. 
 
 5 
 
 6 Peter, A. 
 
 6 Ina, K. Mo. 
 
 7 Cedd, B. 
 
 7 Augulus, B.M. Richard, K. 
 
 8 Pega, V. Wulsin, B. 
 
 8 Elfleda, A. Cuthman, C. 
 
 9 Adrian, A. Bertwald, Archb. 
 
 9 TheHau, B. 
 
 10 Sethi-ida, V. 
 
 10 Trmnwui, B. 
 
 11 Egwin, B. 
 
 11 
 
 12 Benedict Biscop, A. Aebed, A. 
 
 12 Ethelwold, B. of Lindisfarne. 
 
 13 Kentigern, B. 
 
 Cedmon, Mo. 
 
 14 Beuno, A. 
 
 13 ErmenUda, Q.A. 
 
 15 Ceolulph, K. Mo. 
 
 14 
 
 16 Henry, Hermit. Fursej', A. 
 
 15 Sigefride, B. 
 
 17 Mildwida, V. 
 
 16 Finan, B. 
 
 18 Ulfrid or Wolfrid, M. 
 
 17 
 
 19 Wulstan, B. Henry, B. 
 
 18 
 
 20 
 
 19 
 
 21 
 
 20 Uh:ic, H. 
 
 22 Brithwold, B. 
 
 21 
 
 23 BoisU, A. 
 
 22 
 
 24 Cadoc, A. 
 
 23 Milburga, V. 
 
 25 
 
 24 Luidhard, B. Ethelbert of Keut, 
 
 26 Theoritgida, V. 
 
 K. 
 
 27 Bathildis, Queen. 
 
 25 Walburga, V.A. 
 
 28 
 
 26 
 
 29 Gildas, A. 
 
 27 Alnoth, H.M. 
 
 3Q 
 
 28 Oswald, B. 
 
 31 Adamnan, Mo. Serapion, M. 
 
 29 
 
326 
 
 NOTE D. 
 
 MARCH. 1 
 
 16 
 
 
 
 17 Stephen, A. 
 
 1 David, Archb. 
 
 Swibert, B. 
 
 18 
 
 2 Chad, B. Willeik, C. Joavan, B. 
 
 19 Elphege, Archb. 
 
 3 Winwaloe, A. 
 
 
 20 Adelhare, M. Cedwalla, K. 
 
 4 Owin, Mo. 
 
 
 21 Anselm, Archb. Doctor. 
 
 5 
 
 
 22 
 
 6 Kinebiirga, &c 
 
 ., and Tibba, VV. 
 
 23 George, M. 
 
 Baltber, C. and Bilfrid, H. 
 
 24 Mellitus, Archb. Wilfrid, Archb. 
 
 7 Easterwin, A. 
 
 William, Friar. 
 
 Egbert, C. 
 
 8 Felix, B. 
 
 
 25 
 
 9 Bosa, B. 
 
 
 26 
 
 10 
 
 
 27 
 
 11 
 
 
 28 
 
 12 Elphege, B. Paul de Leon, B.C. 
 
 29 Wilfrid II. Archb. 
 
 13 
 
 
 30 Erconwald, B. Suibert, B. 
 
 14 Robert, H. 
 
 
 Maud, Q. 
 
 15 Eadgith, A. 
 
 
 
 16 
 
 
 
 17 Withburga, V. 
 
 
 MAY. 
 
 18 Edward, K.M. 
 
 
 
 19 Alcmund, M. 
 
 
 1 Asaph, B. Lltan, A. Brioc, B.C 
 
 20 Cuthbert, B. 
 
 Herbert, B. 
 
 2 Germanus, M. 
 
 21 
 
 
 3 
 
 22 
 
 
 4 
 
 23 ^Edelwald, H. 
 
 
 5 Ethelred, K. Mo. 
 
 24 Hildelitha, A. 
 
 
 6 Eadbert, A. 
 
 25 Alfwold of Sherborne, B. and Wil- 
 
 7 John, Archb. of Beverley. 
 
 liam, M. 
 
 
 8 
 
 26 
 
 
 9 
 
 27 
 
 
 10 
 
 28 
 
 
 11 Fremund, M. 
 
 29 Gundleus, H. 
 
 
 12 
 
 30 Merwenna, A. 
 
 
 13 
 
 31 
 
 
 14 
 15 
 
 APRIL. 
 
 16 Simon Stock, H. 
 
 
 
 17 
 
 1 
 
 
 18 Elgiva, Q. 
 
 2 
 
 
 19 Dunstan, Archb. B. Alcuin, A 
 
 3 Richard, B. 
 
 
 20 Ethelbert, K.M. 
 
 4 
 
 
 21 Godric, H. 
 
 5 
 
 
 22 Winewald, A. Berethun, A 
 
 6 
 
 
 Senry, K. 
 
 7 
 
 
 23 
 
 8 
 
 
 24 Ethelburga, Q. 
 
 9 Frithstan, B. 
 
 
 25 Aldhelm, B. 
 
 10 
 
 
 26 Augustine, Archb. 
 
 11 Guthlake, H. 
 
 
 27 Bede, D. Mo. 
 
 12 
 
 
 28 Lanfranc, Archb. 
 
 13 Caradoc, H. 
 
 
 29 
 
 14 Richard of Bury, B. 
 
 30 Walston, C. 
 
 15 Paternus,'B. 
 
 
 31 Jurmin, C. 
 
SERIES OF SAI^'TS' LIVES OF 184o-4. 
 
 3-2' 
 
 JUNE. 
 Wistan, K.M. 
 
 Petroc, A. 
 Boniface, Arclib. M. 
 GudwaU, B. 
 Robert, A. 
 ^V^illiam, Archb. 
 
 Ivo, B. and Ithamar, B. 
 
 Eskill, B.M. 
 
 Elerius, A. 
 Edburga, V. 
 
 Botulpb, A. Jobn, Fr. 
 
 Idaberga, V. 
 
 Egelmund, A. 
 
 Alban, and AmpMbolus, MM. 
 
 Ethelreda, V.A. 
 
 Bartholomew, • H. 
 
 Adalbert, C. 
 
 John, C. of Moutier. 
 
 Margaret, Countess ofE'iclimond. 
 
 JULY. 
 
 Julius, Aaron, MM. Rumold, B. 
 
 Leonorus, B. 
 Oudoceus, B. Swithun, B. 
 Giiuthiern, A. 
 Odo, Archb. 
 Modwenna, V.A. 
 Sexl)urga, A. 
 Edelburga,V.A. Hedda,B. Wil- 
 
 libald, B. Ercongota, V. 
 Grimbald, and Edgar, K. 
 Stephen Langton, Archb. 
 
 MUdreda, V.A. 
 
 Marchelm, C. Bonifiice, Archb. 
 
 Deusdedit, Archb. Plechelm, B. 
 
 David, A. and Editha of Tam- 
 
 worth, Q.V. 
 
 16 
 17 
 18 
 
 19 
 
 20 
 21 
 22 
 23 
 
 24 
 25 
 26 
 27 
 28 
 29 
 30 
 31 
 
 Helier, H.M. 
 Kenelm, K.M. 
 
 Edburga and Edgitha of Ayles- 
 bury, VV. Frederic, B.M. 
 
 Wulftid and Ruffin, MM. Lew- 
 [inna, V.M. 
 
 Hugh, M. 
 
 Sampson, B. 
 
 Lupus, B. [V. 
 
 Tatwin, Archb. and Ermenigitha, 
 
 Germanus, B. and Xeot, H, 
 
 AUGUST. 
 
 Ethelwold, B. of Winton. 
 Etheldritha, V. 
 Walthen, A. 
 
 Oswald, K.M. Thomas, Mo. M. 
 [of Dover. 
 
 Colman. B. 
 
 William of Wat/nfleet, H. 
 
 Wigbert, A. Walter, A. 
 Werenfrid, C. 
 
 Helen, Empress. 
 
 Oswin, K.M. 
 Richard, B. of Andria. 
 Sigfrid, A. 
 Ebba, V.A. 
 
 Ebba, V.A.M. 
 
 Bregwin, Archb. Bradioardine, 
 
 Archb. 
 Sturmius, A. 
 
 Sebbus, K. 
 
 Eanswida, V.A. Aidan, A.B. 
 Cuthburga, Q.V. 
 
328 
 
 NOTE D. 
 
 SEPTEMBER. 
 
 1 
 
 2 William, B. of Roschkl. 
 Fr. 
 
 William, 
 
 Bega, A. 
 
 Alcmund, A. Tilhbert, A. 
 
 Bertelin, H. Wulfhilda or Vul- 
 
 fridis, A. 
 Otger, C. 
 Robert Kilwardhy, Archh. 
 
 Richard Fox, JB. 
 
 Ninian, B. Edith, daughter of 
 
 Edgar, V. 
 Socrates and Stephen, MM. 
 
 Theodore, Archb. 
 
 Hereswide, Q. Edward II. K. 
 
 Ceolfrid, A. 
 
 William of WyTceham, B. 
 Lioba, V.A. 
 
 R. Richard of Sampole, S. 
 Honorius, Archb. 
 
 OCTOBER. 
 
 1 Roger, B. 
 
 2 Thomas of Hereford, B. 
 
 3 Ewalds (two) MM. 
 4 
 
 5 Walter Stapleton, B. 
 
 6 Ywy, C. 
 
 7 Ositha, Q.V.M. 
 
 8 Ceneu, V. 
 
 9 Lina, V. and Robert Grostete, S. 
 
 10 Paulinus, Archb. John, C. of 
 
 Bridlington. 
 
 11 Edilburga, V.A. 
 
 12 Edwin, K. 
 13 
 
 14 Burchard, B. 
 
 15 Tecla, V.A. 
 
 16 Lullus, Archb. 
 
 17 Ethelred," Ethelbright, MM. 
 
 18 Walter de 3Ierton, B. 
 
 19 Frideswide, V. and EthUhi. A. 
 20 
 
 21 Ursula, V.M. 
 
 22 MeUo, B.C. 
 23 
 
 24 Magloire, B. 
 
 25 John of Salisbv/ry, B. 
 
 26 Eata, B. 
 
 27 Witta, B. 
 
 28 B. Alfred. 
 
 29 Sigebert, K. Elfreda, A. 
 30 
 
 31 FoUlan, B.M. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 8 
 
 9 
 
 10 
 
 11 
 
 12 
 
 13 
 
 14 
 
 15 
 
 16 
 
 17 
 
 18 
 
 19 
 
 20 
 
 21 
 22 
 23 
 24 
 25 
 26 
 27 
 28 
 29 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 Wenefred, V.M. Rumwald, C. 
 
 Brinstan, B. Clarus, M. 
 
 Cungar, H. 
 
 Iltut, A. and Winoc, A. 
 
 WUlebrord, B. 
 
 Willehad, B. TyssiHo, B. 
 
 Justus, Archb. 
 
 Lebwin, C. 
 
 Eadburga of Menstrey, A. 
 
 Dubricius, B.C. 
 
 Malo, B. 
 
 Edmund, B. 
 
 Hilda, A. Hugh, B. 
 
 Ermenburga, Q. 
 
 Edmund, K.M. Humbert, B.M. 
 Acca, B. 
 
 Paulinus, A. 
 Daniel, B.C. 
 
 Edwold, M. 
 
SERIES OF SAINTS* LIVES OF 1843-4. 
 
 329 
 
 DECEMBER. 
 
 Weede, V. 
 
 Birinus, B. Lucius, K. and Sola, 
 
 H. 
 Osmund, B. 
 Christina, V. 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 8 JoTin PecJcJiam, ArcTib, 
 
 9 
 10 
 11 
 13 
 13 
 14 
 15 
 
 Elfleda, A. 
 
 Corentin, B.C. 
 
 Ethelburga, Q. wife of Edwin. 
 
 16 
 
 17 
 
 18 Winebald, A. 
 
 19 
 
 20 
 
 21 Eadburga, V.A. 
 
 22 
 
 23 
 
 24 
 
 25 
 
 26 Tathai, C. 
 
 27 Gerald, A.B. 
 28 
 
 29 Thomas, Archb. M. 
 
 30 
 
 31 
 
 N.B. St. William, Austin-Friar, Ingulphus, and Peter of Blois have not 
 been introduced into the above Calendar, their days of death or festival not 
 being as yet ascertained. 
 
 182 
 
 Dec. 3. 
 
 
 Jan. 1. 
 
 300 
 
 Oct. 22. 
 
 303 
 
 Ap. 23. 
 June 22. 
 
 304 
 
 July 1. 
 Jan. 2. 
 
 — 
 
 Feb. 7. 
 
 328 
 388 
 411 
 
 Aug. 18. 
 Sept. 17. 
 Jan. 3. 
 
 432 
 429 
 
 502 
 
 Sept. 16. 
 July 31. 
 July 29. 
 May 1. 
 
 CHEONOLOGICAL AERANGEMENT. 
 
 SECOXD CENTURY. 
 
 Lucius, K. of the British. 
 
 Elvan, B. and Medwyne, C. envoys from St. Lucius to 
 Rome. 
 
 FOURTH CENTURY. 
 
 Mello, B. C. of Rouen. 
 
 George, M. under Dioclesian. Patron of England. 
 
 Alban and Amphibalus, MM. 
 
 Julius and Aaron, MM. of Caerleon. 
 
 Martyrs of Lichfield. 
 
 AuguluB, B.M. of London. 
 
 Helen, Empress, mother of Constantine. 
 
 Socrates and Stephen, M.M. perhaps in Wales. 
 
 Melorus, M. in Cornwall. 
 
 FIFTH CENTURY. 
 
 Ninian, B. Apostle of the Southern Picts. 
 
 Germanus, B. C. of Auxerre. 
 
 Lupus, B. C. of Troyes. 
 
 Brioc, B. C, disciple of St. Germanus. 
 
330 NOTE D. 
 
 490 Oct. 8. Ceneu, or Keyna, V., sister-in-law of Gundleus. 
 492 Mar. 29. GuncUeus, Hermit, in Wales. 
 
 July 3. Gunthiern, A., in Brittany. 
 453 Oct. 21. Ursula, V.M. near Cologne, 
 bef. 500 Dec. 12. Coreutin, B.C. of Quimper. 
 
 FIFTH AND SIXTH CENTURIES. 
 
 Welsh ScnooLS. 
 444-522 Nov. 14. Dubricius, B.C., first Bishop of Llandaif. 
 520 Nov. 22. Paulinus, A. of Wbitland, tutor of St. David and St. 
 
 Theliau. 
 445-544 Mar. 1. David, Archb. of Menevia, afterwards called from him. 
 abt. 500 Dec. 26. Tathai, C, master of St. Cadoc. 
 
 480 Jan. 24. Cadoc, A., son of St. Gundleus, and nephew of St. Keyna. 
 abt. 513 Nov. 6. Iltut, A., converted by St. Cadoc. 
 545 Nov. 23. Daniel, B.C., first Bishop of Bangor, 
 aft. 559 Apr. 18. Paternus, B.A., pupil of St. Iltut. 
 573 Mar. 12. Paul, B.C. of Leon, pupil of St. Iltut. 
 
 loavan, B., pupU of St. Paul. 
 
 Sampson, B., pupil of St. Iltut, cousin of St. Paul de 
 Leon. 
 
 Malo, B., cousin of St. Sampson. 
 
 Magloire, B., cousin of St. Malo. 
 
 Gildas, A., pupil of St. Iltut. 
 
 Leonorus, B., pupil of St. Iltut. 
 
 Theliau, B. of Llandaff", pupil of St. Dubricius. 
 
 Oudoceus, B., nephew to St. Theliau. 
 500-580 Oct. 19. Ethbin, A., pupil of St. Sampson. 
 516-601 Jan. 13. Kentigern, B. of Glasgow, founder of Monastery of Elwy. 
 
 SIXTH CENTURY. 
 
 Winwaloe, A., in Brittany. 
 
 Petroc, A., in Cornwall. 
 
 Helier, Hermit, M., in Jersey. 
 
 John, C. of Moutier, in Tours. 
 
 Asaph, B, of Elwy, afterwards called after him, 
 
 Gudwall, B. of Aleth in Brittany. 
 
 Tyssilio, B. of St. Asaph. 
 
 SEVENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Paet I. 
 
 Ivo, or Ivia, B. from Persia. 
 
 Luidhard, B. of Senlis, in France. 
 
 Ethelbert, K. of Kent. 
 
 Augustine, Archb. of Canterbury, Apostle of England. 
 
 Mellitus, Archb. of Canterbury, "^ 
 
 Laurence, Archb. of Canterbury, \ ri • eai. 
 
 n J. k i. n i. \ Companions of St. 
 
 Peter, A. at Canterbury, . i ^ ,^- 
 
 Justus, Archb. of Canterbury, o **■ • 
 
 Honorius, Archl). of Canterbury, J 
 
 Deus-dedit, Archb. of Cantcrbm-y. 
 
 
 Mar. 2. 
 
 599 
 
 July 28. 
 
 585 
 
 Nov. 15. 
 
 575 
 
 Oct. 24. 
 
 583 
 
 Jan. 29. 
 
 
 July 1. 
 
 604 
 
 Feb. 9. 
 
 560 
 
 July 2. 
 
 529 
 
 Mar. 3. 
 
 564 
 
 June 4. 
 
 
 July 16. 
 
 
 June 27. 
 
 590 
 
 Mav 1. 
 
 ibt. 600 June 6. 
 
 
 Nov. 8. 
 
 600 
 
 June 10. 
 
 596 
 
 Feb. 24. 
 
 616 
 
 Feb. 24. 
 
 608 
 
 May 26. 
 
 624 
 
 Apr. 2i. 
 
 619 
 
 Feb. 2. 
 
 608 
 
 Jan. 6. 
 
 627 
 
 Nov. 10. 
 
 653. 
 
 Sept. 30. 
 
 G62 
 
 July 15. 
 
642 
 
 Oct. 29. 
 
 646 
 
 Mar. 8. 
 
 650 
 
 Jan. 16. 
 
 680 
 
 May 1. 
 
 655 
 
 Oct. 31. 
 
 680 
 
 June 17. 
 
 671 
 
 June 10. 
 
 650 
 
 Dec. 3. 
 
 705 
 
 July 7. 
 
 717 
 
 Jan. 11. 
 
 SERIES OF SAINTS* LIVES OF 1843-4. 331 
 
 SSVEXTH CENTURY. 
 
 Paet II. 
 
 Sigebert, K. of the East Ang-les. 
 
 Felix, B. of Dunwich, Apostle of the East Angles. 
 
 Fursey, A., preacher among' the East Angles. 
 
 Ultan, A., brother of St. Fursey. 
 
 Foillau, B.M., brother of St. Fursey, preacher in the 
 
 Netherlands. 
 Botulph, A., in Lincolnshu'e or Sussex. 
 Ithamar, B. of Eochester. 
 Birinus, B. of Dorchester. 
 Hedda, B. of Dorchester. 
 Egwin, B. of Worcester. 
 
 SEVENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Paet III. 
 
 690 Sept. 19. Theodore, Archb. of Canterbury. 
 
 709 Jan. 9. Adrian, A. in Canterbury. 
 
 709 May 25. Aldhelm, B. of Sherborne, pupil of St. Adrian. 
 
 SEVENTH CENTURY. 
 Paet IV. 
 
 Winefred, V.M. in Wales. 
 
 Liephard, M.B., slain near Carabray. 
 
 Beuno, A., kinsman of St. Cadocus and St. Kentlgern. 
 
 Osgitha, Q.V.M., in East Anglia during a Danish inroad. 
 
 Elerius, A. in Wales. 
 
 Bathildis, Q., wife of Clovis II., king of France. 
 
 Lewinna, V.M., put to death by the Saxons. 
 
 Edberga and Edgitha, VV. of Aylesbury. 
 
 SEVENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Paet V. 
 
 Paulinus, Archb. of York, companion of St. Augustine. 
 
 Edwin, K. of Northumberland. 
 
 Ethelburga, Q., vdfe to St. Edwin. 
 
 Oswald, K.M., St. Edwin's nephew. 
 
 Oswin, K.M., cousin to St. Oswald. 
 
 Ebba, V.A. of Coldingham, half-sister to St. Oswin. 
 
 Adamnan, Mo. of Coldingham. 
 
 SEVENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Paet M. — Whitby. 
 
 650 Sept. 6. Bega, V.A., foundress of St. Bee's, called after her. 
 
 681 Nov. 17. Hilda, A. of ^Vhitby, daughter of St. Edwin's nephew. 
 
 716 Dec. 11. Elfleda, A. of Whitby, daughter of St. Oswin. 
 
 680 Feb. 12. Cedmon, Mo. of Whitby. 
 
 630 
 
 Nov. 3. 
 
 642 
 
 Feb. 4. 
 
 660 
 
 Jan. 14. 
 
 673 
 
 Oct. 7. 
 
 630 
 
 June 14. 
 
 680 
 
 Jan. 27. 
 
 687 
 
 July 24. 
 
 700 
 
 July 18. 
 
 644 
 
 Oct. 10. 
 
 633 
 
 Oct. 12. 
 
 
 Dec. 13. 
 
 642 
 
 Aug. 5. 
 
 651 
 
 Aug. 20. 
 
 683 
 
 Aug. 23. 
 
 689 
 
 Jan. 31. 
 
332 NOTE D. 
 
 SEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES. 
 
 Paet I. 
 
 Sept. 21. Hereswlda, Q., sister of Hilda, wife of Annas, who suc- 
 ceeded Egric, Sigebert's cousin. 
 
 654 Jan. 10. Sethrida, V.A. of Faremoutier, St. Hereswida's daughter 
 by a former marriage. 
 
 693 Apr. 30. Erconwald, A.B., son of Annas and St. Hereswida, Bishop 
 of London, Abbot of Chertsey, founder of Barking. 
 
 677 Aug. 29. Sebbus, K., converted by St. Erconwald. 
 May 31. Jurmin, C, son of Annas and St. Hereswida. 
 
 650 July 7. Edelburga, V.A. of Faremoutier, natural daughter of 
 
 Annas. 
 679 June 23. Etheh-eda, Etheldreda, Etheltrudis, or Awdry, V.A., 
 
 daughter of Annas and St. Hereswida. 
 Mar. 17. Withburga, V., daughter of Annas and St. Hereswida. 
 699 July 6. Sexburga, A., daughter of Annas and St. Hereswida. 
 660 July 7. Ercongota, or Ertougata, V.A. of Faremoutier, daughter 
 
 of St. Sexburga. 
 
 699 Feb. 13. Ermenilda, Q.A., daughter of St. Sexburga, wife of 
 
 Wulfere. 
 aft. 675 Feb. 3. Wereburga, V., daughter of St. Ermenilda and Wulfere, 
 
 patron of Chester, 
 abt. 680 Feb. 27. Alnoth, H.M., bailiff to St. Wereburga. 
 640 Aug. 31. Eanswida, V.A., sister-in-law of St. Sexburga, grand- 
 daughter to St. Ethelbert. 
 668 Oct. 17. Etheh-ed and Ethelbright, MM., nephews of St. Ean- 
 swida. 
 July 30. Ermenigitha, V., niece of St. Eanswida. 
 676 Oct. 11. Edilberga, V.A. of Barking, daughter of Annas and St. 
 Hereswida. 
 
 678 Jan. 26. Theoritgida, V., nun of Barking. 
 
 aft. 713 Aug. 31. Cuthberga, Q.V., of Barking, sister of St. Ina. 
 
 700 Mar. 24. Hildelitha, A. of Barking. 
 
 728 Feb. 6. Ina, K. Mo. of the West Saxons. 
 
 740 May 24. Ethelburga, Q., wife of St. Ina, nun at Barking. 
 
 SEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES. 
 
 Paet II. 
 
 Idaburga, V. 
 
 Kineburga, Q.A. 
 
 Kinneswitha, V. \- Daughters of King Penda. 
 
 Chidestre, V. 
 
 Weeda, V.A. _ J 
 
 Tibba, V., their kinswoman. 
 
 Rumwald, C, grandson of Penda. 
 
 Ermenburga, Q., mother to the three following. 
 
 SXv\^;ofS:* ] Gran<Ma„ght.ersof 
 Milwida, or Milgitha, V. J -fenaa. 
 
 Eadburga, A. of Mcnstrey. 
 
 652 
 
 June 20. 
 
 696 
 
 Mar. 6. 
 
 701 
 
 
 692 
 
 Dec. 2. 
 
 696 
 
 Mar. 6. 
 
 
 Nov. 3. 
 
 680 
 
 Nov. 19. 
 
 
 Feb. 23. 
 
 
 July 13. 
 
 676 
 
 Jan. 17. 
 
 750 
 
 Nov. 13. 
 
SERIES OF SAIKTS* LIVES OF 1843-4, 
 
 333 
 
 670 July 24. 
 
 672 
 
 Mar. 2. 
 
 664 
 
 Jan. 7. 
 
 688 
 
 Mar. 4. 
 
 689 
 
 Apr. 20. 
 
 690-725 Nov. 5 
 
 700 
 
 Feb. 10. 
 
 705 
 
 Mar. 9. 
 
 709 
 
 Apr. 24. 
 
 721 
 
 May 7. 
 
 743 
 
 Apr. 29. 
 
 733 
 
 May 22. 
 
 751 May 22. 
 
 SEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTUEIES. 
 Paet III. 
 
 Wulfad and Ruffin, MM., sons of Wulfere, Penda's son, 
 
 and of St. Erminilda. 
 Chad, B. of Lichfield. 
 Cedd, B. of London. 
 Owm, Mo. of Lichfield. 
 Cedwalla, K. of West Saxons. 
 Cungar, H. in Somersetshire. 
 TruuiAvin, B. of the Picts. 
 Bosa, Arclib. of York. 
 Wilfrid, Archb. of York. 
 John of Beverley, Archb. of York, 
 Wilfrid II., Archb. of York. 
 Berethun, A. of Deirwood, disciple of St. John of 
 
 Beverley. 
 Winewald, A. of Deirwood. 
 
 SEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES. 
 
 729 Apr. 24. 
 693 Oct. 3. 
 690-736 Nov. 7. 
 717 Mar. 1. 
 727 Mar. 2. 
 705 June 25. 
 
 705 Aug. 14. 
 720 June 21. 
 
 730 Sept. 10. 
 732 July 15. 
 750 May 2. 
 760 Nov. 12, 
 760 July 14. 
 697-755 June 5. 
 712 Feb. 7. 
 704-790 July 7. 
 
 730-760 Dec. 18. 
 
 779 Feb. 25. 
 
 aft. 755 Sept. 28. 
 750 Oct. 15. 
 788 Oct. 16. 
 abt.747Aug.l3. 
 
 755 Apr. 20. 
 
 780 Aug. 27. 
 786 Oct. 27. 
 
 Paet IV.— Missions. 
 
 Egbert, C, master to Willebrord. 
 
 Ewalds (two), MM. in Westphalia. 
 
 Willebrord, B. of Utrecht, Apostle of Friesland. 
 
 S^\-ibert, B., Apostle of Westphalia. 
 
 Willeik, C, successor to St. Smbert. 
 
 Adelbert, C, grandson of St. Oswald, preacher in 
 
 HoUand. 
 Werenfrid, C, preacher in Friesland. 
 Engelmund, A., preacher in Holland. 
 Otger, C. in Low Countries. 
 Plechelm, B., preacher in Guelderland. 
 Germanus, B.M. in the Netherlands. 
 Lebwin, C. in Overyssel, in Holland. 
 Marchelm, C, companion of St. Lebwin, in Holland, 
 Boniface, Archb., M. of Mentz, Apostle of Germany. 
 Richard, K. of the West Saxons. 
 WiUibald, B. of Aichstadt, 1 \ 
 
 in Franconia, 
 Winebald, A. of Heiden- I Children of 
 
 heim, in Suabia, f St. Richard. 
 
 Walburga, V.A. of Heiden- 
 
 heim, 
 Lioba, V.A. of Bischorsheim, 
 Tecla, V.A. of Kitzingen, in Franconia, 
 LuUus, Archb. of Mentz, 
 Wigbert, A. of Fritzlar and Ortdorf, 
 
 Germany, 
 Adelhare, B.M. of Erford, in Franconia, 
 Sturmius, A. of Fulda, 
 Witta, or Albuinus, B. of Buraberg, 
 
 Germany, 
 
 Companions 
 
 of St. 
 
 Boniface. 
 
334 NOTE D. 
 
 791 Xov. 8. Wlllehad, B. of Bremen, and Apostle of -j 
 
 Saxony, Companions 
 
 791 Oct. 14. Burehard, B. of Wurtzburg, in Fran- of St. 
 
 conia, Boniface. 
 
 670 
 
 Jan. 23. 
 
 651 
 
 Aug. 31. 
 
 664 
 
 Feb. 16. 
 
 676 
 
 Aug. 8. 
 
 685 
 
 Oct. 26. 
 
 687 
 
 Mar. 20. 
 
 
 Oct. 6. 
 
 690 
 
 Mar. 20. 
 
 698 
 
 May 6. 
 
 700 
 
 Mar. 23. 
 
 740 
 
 Feb. 12. 
 
 740 
 
 Nov. 20. 
 
 764 
 
 Jan. 15. 
 
 756 
 
 Mar, 6. 
 
 781 
 
 Sept. 7. 
 
 789 
 
 Sept. 7. 
 
 790 Dec. 3. Sola, H., near Aichstadt, in Franconia, 
 775 July 1. Rumold, B,, Patron of Mechlin. 
 807 Apr. 30. Suibert, B. of Verden in Westphalia. 
 
 SEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES. 
 
 PaET V. — LlNDISFAENE AND HeXHAM. 
 
 Boisil, A. of Melros, in Scotland. 
 
 Aidan, A.B. of Lindisfarne. 
 
 Fin an, B. of Lindisfarne. 
 
 Colman, B. of Lindisfarne. 
 
 Eata, B. of Hexham. 
 
 Cuthbert, B. of Lindisfarne. 
 
 Ywy, C. disciple of St. Cuthbert. 
 
 Herbert, H. disciple of St. Cuthbert. 
 
 Eadbert, B. of Lindisfarne. 
 
 ^delwald, H. successor of St. Cuthbert;, in his hermitage. 
 
 Ethel wold, B. of Lindisfarne. 
 
 Acca, B. of Hexham. 
 
 Ceolulph, K. Mo. of Lindisfarne. 
 
 Balther, H. at Lindisfarne. 
 
 Bilfrid, H. Goldsmith at Lindisfarne. 
 
 Alchmund, B. of Hexham. 
 
 Tilhbert, B. of Hexham. 
 
 SEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES. 
 
 Part VI. — Weaemouth and Yaeeow. 
 
 Benedict Biscop, A. of Wearmouth. 
 Easterwin, A. of Wearmouth. 
 Sigft'id, A. of Wearmouth. 
 Ceofrid, A. of Yarrow, 
 Bede, Doctor, Mo. of Yarrow. 
 B. Alcuin, A. in France. 
 
 EIGHTH CENTURY. 
 
 Ethelred, K. Mo. King of Mercia, Monk of Bardney. 
 
 Pega, v., sister of St. Guthlake. 
 
 Guthlake, H. of Croyland. 
 
 Winoc, A. in Brittany. 
 
 Bertwald, Ai'chb. of Canterbury. 
 
 Gerald, A.B. in Mayo. 
 
 Tatwin, Archb. of Canterbury. 
 
 Frideswide, V. patron of Oxford. 
 
 Bregwin, Archb. of Canterbiu'y. 
 700-800 Feb. 8. Cuthman, C. of Stening in Sussex, 
 bef. 800 Sei)t. 9. Bertelin, H. patron of Stafford. 
 
 703 
 
 Jan. 12. 
 
 685 
 
 Mar. 7. 
 
 689 
 
 Aug. 22. 
 
 716 
 
 Sept. 25. 
 
 734 
 
 May 27. 
 
 804 
 
 May 19. 
 
 710 
 
 Mays. 
 
 719 
 
 Jan. 8. 
 
 714 
 
 April 11. 
 
 717 
 
 Nov. 6. 
 
 730 
 
 Jan. 9. 
 
 732 
 
 Dec. 27. 
 
 734 
 
 July 30. 
 
 750 
 
 Oct. 19. 
 
 762 
 
 Aug. 26. 
 
SERIES OF SAI^^TS' LIVES OF 1843-4. 835 
 
 EIGHTH AND NINTH CENTURIES. 
 
 793 May 20. Ethelbert, K.M. of the East Angles. 
 
 834. Aug. 2. Etheldritha, or Alfi-eda, V., daugli: er of Ofia, king of Mer- 
 
 cia, nun at Croyland. 
 
 819 July 17. Ivenelm, K.M. of Mercia. 
 
 849 June 1. Wistan, K.M. of Mercia. 
 
 838 July 18. Frederic, Archb. M. of Utrecht. 
 
 894 Nov. 4. Clarus, M. in Normandy. 
 
 NINTH CENTURY. 
 
 Part I. — Dakish Slaughtees, &c. 
 
 819 Mar. 19. Alcmund, M., son of Eldred, king of Northumbria, Patron 
 
 of Derby. 
 870 Nov. 20. Edmund, K.M. of the East Angles. 
 862 May 11. Fremund, H. M. nobleman of East Anglia. 
 870 Nov. 20. Humbert, B.M. of Elmon in East Anglia. 
 867 Aug. 25. Ebba, V.A.M. of Coldingham. 
 
 NINTH CENTURY. 
 
 Paet II. 
 
 Swithun, B. of Winton. 
 
 Modwenna, V.A. of PoUesworth in Warwickshire. 
 
 Lina, V. nun at PoUesworth. 
 
 Eadgith, V.A. of PoUesworth, sister of King Ethelwolf. 
 
 Eadburga, V.A. of Winton, daughter of King Ethelwolf. 
 
 Edwold, H., brother of St. Edmund. 
 
 NINTH AND TENTH CENTURIES. 
 
 Neot, H. in Cornwall. 
 Grimbald, A. at Winton. 
 B. Alfred, K. 
 Frithstan, B. of Winton. 
 Brinstan, B. of Winton. 
 
 TENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Paet I. 
 
 Edburga, V., nun at Winton, granddaughter of Alfred. 
 Editha, Q.V., nun of Tamworth, sister to Edburga. 
 Algyfa, or Elgiva, Q., mother of Edgar. 
 Edgar, K. 
 
 Edward, K.M. at Corfe Castle. 
 Edith, v., daughter of St. Edgar and St. Wulfhilda. 
 Wulf hilda, or Vulfrida, A. of WUton. 
 Merwenna, V.A. of Romsey. 
 Elfreda, A. of Romsey. 
 
 Christina of Romsey, V., sister of St. Margaret of 
 Scotland. 
 
 862 
 870 
 
 July 2. 
 Julys. 
 Oct. 9. 
 
 871 
 
 Mar. 15. 
 
 900 
 
 Dec. 21. 
 
 880 
 
 Nov. 28. 
 
 883 
 
 July 31. 
 
 903 
 900 
 
 July 8. 
 Oct. 28. 
 
 929 
 934 
 
 April 9. 
 Nov. 4. 
 
 960 
 
 June 15. 
 
 926 
 
 July 15. 
 
 921 
 
 May 18. 
 
 975 
 
 Julys. 
 
 978 
 
 Mar. 18. 
 
 984 
 
 Sept. 16. 
 
 990 
 
 Sept. 9. 
 
 980 
 
 Mar. 30. 
 
 990 
 
 Oct. 29. 
 
 1016 
 
 Dec. 5. 
 
336 NOTE D- 
 
 TENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Paet II. 
 
 961 July 4. Odo, Archb. of Canterbury, Benedictine Monk. 
 960-992 Feb. 28. Oswald, Archb. of York, B. of Worcester, nephew te- 
 st. Odo. 
 951-1012 Mar. 12. Elphege the Bald, B. of Winton. 
 988 May 19. Dunstan, Archb. of Canterbury. 
 973 Jan. 8. Wulsin, B. of Sherlioume. 
 984 Aug. 1. Ethelwold, B. of Winton. 
 
 1015 Jan. 22. Brithwold, B. of Winton. 
 
 TENTH AND ELEVENTH CENTURIES. 
 
 Missions. 
 
 950 Feb. 15. Sigfride, B., apostle of Sweden. 
 
 1016 June 12. EskiU, B.M. in Sweden, kinsman of St. Sigfride. 
 1028 Jan. 18. Wolfred, M. in Sweden. 
 
 1050 July 15. David, A,, Clxmiac in Sweden. 
 
 ELEVENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Elphege, M. Archb. of Canterbury. 
 Walston, C. near Norwich. 
 Alfwold, B. of Sherborne. 
 William, B. of Roschid in Denmark. 
 Edward, K.C. 
 Osmund, B. of Salisbury. 
 
 ELEVENTH AND TWELFTH CENTURIES. 
 
 Wulstan, B. of Worcester. 
 Lanfranc, Archb. of Canterlury. 
 Anselm, Doctor, Archb. of Canterbury. 
 Thomas, Archb. M. of Canterbury. 
 Hugh, B. of Lincoln, Carthusian Monk. 
 
 1012 
 1016 
 1053 
 
 April 19. 
 May. 30. 
 Mar. 35. 
 
 1067 
 1066 
 
 Sept. 2. 
 Jan. 5. 
 
 1099 
 
 Dec. 4. 
 
 1095 
 
 EI 
 Jan. 19. 
 
 1089 
 1109 
 1170 
 
 May 28. 
 Apr. 21. 
 Dec. 29. 
 
 1200 
 
 Nov. 17. 
 
 
 
 TWELFTH CENTURY. 
 
 
 
 Paet I. 
 
 1109 
 
 
 IngidpTius, A. of Croyland. 
 
 1117 
 
 Apr. 30. 
 
 B. Maud, Q. Wife of Henry L 
 
 1124 
 
 Apr. 13. 
 
 Caradoc, H. in South Wales. 
 
 1127 
 
 Jan. 16. 
 
 Henry, H. in Northumberland. 
 
 1144 
 
 Mar. 25. 
 
 William, M. of Norwich. 
 
 1151 
 
 Jan. 19. 
 
 Henry, M.B. of Upsal. 
 
 1150 
 
 Aug. 13. 
 
 Walter, A. of Fontenelle, in France. 
 
 1154 
 
 June 8. 
 
 WiUiam, Archb. of York. 
 
 1170 
 
 May 21. 
 
 Godric, H. in Durham. 
 
 1180 
 
 Oct. 25. 
 
 John of Salisburt/, B. of Chartret, 
 
1228 
 1212 
 
 July 9. 
 Nov. 16. 
 
 1253 
 1282 
 
 Apr. 3. 
 Oct. 2. 
 
 1294 
 
 Dec. 3. 
 
 SERIES OF saints' LIVES OF 1843-4. 337 
 
 1182 June 24. Bartholomew, C, mouk at Dm-liam. 
 
 1189 Feb. 4. Gilbert, A. of Sempringham. 
 
 1190 Aug. 21. Eicharcl, B. of Andria. 
 
 1200 Feter de Blois, Archd. of Bath. 
 
 TWELFTH CENTUEY. 
 
 PaET II. — CiSTEETIAN OeDEE. 
 
 1134 Apr. 17. Stephen, A. of Citeaux. 
 
 1139 June 7. Robert, A. of Newuiinster in XorthumberlancU 
 
 1154 Feb. 20. Ulric, H. in Dorsetshire. 
 
 1160 Aug. 3. Walthen, A. of Meh-ose. 
 
 1166 Jan. 12. Aeh-ed, A. of Rieval. 
 
 THIRTEEXTH CEXTURY. 
 
 Paet I. 
 
 Steiphen Langton, Archh. of Canterbury. 
 
 Edmund, Archb. of Canterbury. 
 
 Richard, B. of Chichester. 
 
 Thomas, B. of Hereford. 
 
 John Beckham, Archh. of Canterhiiry, 
 
 THIRTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Part II. — Oedees of Feiaes. 
 
 1217 June 17. John, Fr., Trinitarian. 
 
 1232 Mar. 7. William, Fr., Franciscan. 
 
 1240 Jan, 31. Serapion, Fr,, M., Redemptionist. 
 
 1265 May 16. Simon Stock, H., General of the Carmelite?. 
 
 1279 Sept. 11. Robert Kilwardby, Archb. of Canterbury Fr. Doriii' 
 
 THIRTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Paet III. 
 
 1239 Mar. 14. Robert H. at Knaresboro'. 
 
 1241 Oct. 1. Roger, B, of London. 
 
 1255 July 27. Hugh, M. of Lincoln. 
 
 1295 Aug, 5. Thomas, Mo., M, of Dover. 
 
 1254 Oct. 9. Robert Grossteste, B. oj Lincoln. 
 
 1270 July 14. Boniface, Archb. of Canterbury. 
 
 1278 Oct. 18. Walter de Merton, B. of Rochester. 
 
 FOURTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 1326 Oct. 5. Staplefon, B. of Exeter. 
 
 1327 Sept. 21. Edicard K. 
 
 1349 Sept. 29. B. Richard, H. oj Hampole. 
 1345 Apr. 14. Richard of Bury, B. of Lincoln. 
 
 1349 Aug. 26. Bradwardine, Archb. of Canterbury^ the Doctor Fro- 
 fundus, 
 
 Z 
 
338 NOTE D. 
 
 1358 Sept. 2. William, Fr., Servite. 
 
 1379 Oct. 10. John, C. of Bridlington. 
 
 1324^1404 Sept. 27. William of Wykeliam, B. of Winton, 
 
 1400 William, Fr. Austin. 
 
 FIFTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 1471 May 22. Eenry, K. of Tlngland. 
 
 1486 Aug. 11. William of Wanefleet, B. of Winton. 
 
 1509 June 29. Margaret, Countess of Richmond. 
 
 1528 Sept. -4. Richard Fox, B. of Winton. 
 
THE A]S^GL1CAN CHURCH. 339 
 
 NOTE E. ON PAGE 227. 
 
 THE ANGLICAN CHURCH. 
 
 I HAVE been bringing out my mind in tbis Yolume on 
 every subject wbicb bas come before me ; and tberefore I 
 am bound to state plainly wbat I feel and have felt, since 
 I was a Catbolic, about the Anglican Church. I said, in 
 a former page, that, on my conversion, I was not conscious 
 of any change in me of thought or feeling, as regards 
 matters of doctrine ; this, however, was not the case as 
 regards some matters of fact, and, unwilling as I am to 
 give offence to religious Anglicans, I am bound to confess 
 that I felt a great change in my view of the Church of 
 England. I cannot tell how soon there came on me, — 
 but very soon, — an extreme astonishment that I had ever 
 imagined it to be a portion of the Catholic Church. For 
 the first time, I looked at it from without, and (as I should 
 myself say) saw it as it was. Forthwith I could not get 
 mj^self to see in it any thing else, than what I had so long 
 fearfully suspected, from as far back as 1836, — a mere 
 national institution. As if my eyes were suddenly opened, 
 so I saw it— spontaneously, apart from any definite act of 
 reason or any argument ; and so I have seen it ever since. 
 I suppose, the main cause of this lay in the contrast which 
 was presented to me by the Catholic Church. Then I 
 recognized at once a reality which was quite a new thing 
 with me. Then I was sensible that I was not making for 
 myself a Church by an effort of thought ; I needed not to 
 make an act of faith in her ; I had not painfully to force 
 myself into a position, but my mind fell back upon itself 
 in relaxation and in peace, and I gazed at her almost 
 
340 NOTE E. 
 
 passively as a great objective fact. I looked at lier; — at 
 her rites, her ceremonial, and her precepts ; and I said, 
 " This {.s a religion ;" and then, when I looked back upon 
 the poor Anglican Church, for which I had laboured so 
 hard, and upon all that appertained to it, and thought of 
 our various attempts to dress it up doctrinally and esthe- 
 tically, it seemed to me to be the veriest of nonentities. 
 
 Vanity of vanities, all is vanity ! How can I make a 
 record of what passed within me, without seeming to be 
 satirical? But I speak plain, serious words. As people 
 call me credulous for acknowledging Catholic claims, so 
 they call me satirical for disowning Anglican pretensions ; 
 to them it is credulity, to them it is satire ; but it is not 
 so in me. What they think exaggeration, I think truth. 
 I am not speaking of the Anglican Church with any disdain, 
 though to them I seem contemptuous. To them of course 
 it is " Aut Caesar aut nullus," but not to me. It may be 
 a great creation, though it be not divine, and this is how 
 I judge of it. Men, who abjure the divine right of kings, 
 would be very indignant, if on that account they were 
 considered disloyal. And so I recognize in the Anglican 
 Church a time-honoured institution, of noble historical 
 memories, a monument of ancient wisdom, a momentous 
 arm of political strength, a great national organ, a source 
 of vast popular advantage, and, to a certain point, a wit- 
 ness and teacher of religious truth. I do not think that, 
 if what I have written about it since I have been a 
 Catholic, be equitably considered as a whole, I shall be 
 found to have taken any other view than this ; but that it 
 is something sacred, that it is an oracle of revealed 
 doctrine, that it can claim a share in St. Ignatius 
 or St. Cyprian, that it can take the rank, contest 
 the teaching, and stop the path of the Church of St. 
 Peter, that it can call itself "the Bride of the Lamb," 
 this is the view of it which simply disappeared from my 
 
THE ANGLICAN CHURCH. 341 
 
 mind on my conversion, and which it would be almost a 
 miracle to reproduce. " I went by, and lo ! it was gone ; 
 I sought it, but its place could no where be found ;" and 
 nothing can bring it back to me. And, as to its pos- 
 session of an episcopal succession from the time of the 
 Apostles, well, it may have it, and, if the Holy See ever 
 so decide, I will believe it, as being the decision of a 
 higher judgment than my own ; but, for myself, I must 
 have St. Philip's gift, who saw the sacerdotal character on 
 the forehead of a gaily- attired youngster, before I can by 
 my own wit acquiesce in it, for antiquarian arguments are 
 altogether unequal to the urgency of visible facts. Why 
 is it that I must pain dear friends by saying so, and 
 kindle a sort of resentment against me in the kindest of 
 hearts ? but I must, though to do it be not only a grief to 
 me, but most impolitic at the moment. Any how, this is 
 my mind ; and, if to have it, if to have betrayed it, before 
 now, involuntarily by my words or my deeds, if on a 
 fitting occasion, as now, to have avowed it, if all this be a 
 proof of the justice of the charge brought against me by 
 my accuser of having " turned round upon my Mother- 
 Church with contumely and slander," in this sense, but 
 in no other sense, do I plead guilty to it without a word 
 in extenuation. 
 
 In no other sense surely ; the Church of England has 
 been the instrument of Providence in conferring great 
 benefits on me ; — had I been born in Dissent, perhaps I 
 should never have been baptized ; had I been born an 
 English Presbyterian, perhaps I should never have known 
 our Lord's divinity ; had I not come to Oxford, perhaps I 
 never should have heard of the visible Church, or of 
 Tradition, or other Catholic doctrines. And as I have 
 received so much good from the Anglican Establishment 
 itself, can I have the heart or rather the want of charity, 
 considering that it does for so -jany others, what it has 
 
042 NOTE E. 
 
 done for me, to wish to see it overthrown ? I have no 
 such wish while it is what it is, and while we are so small 
 a body. Not for its own sake, but for the sake of the 
 many congregations to which it ministers, I will do no- 
 thing against it. While Catholics are so w^eak in Eng- 
 land, it is doing our work ; and, though it does us harm 
 in a measure, at present the balance is in our favour. 
 What our duty would be at another time and in other 
 circumstances, supposing, for instance, the Establishment 
 lost its dogmatic faith, or at least did not preach it, is 
 another matter altogether. In secular history we read of 
 hostile nations having long truces, and renewing them 
 from time to time, and that seems to be the position which 
 the Catholic Church may fairly take up at present in rela- 
 tion to the Anglican Establishment. 
 
 Doubtless the National Church has hitherto been a 
 serviceable breakwater against doctrinal errors, more 
 fundamental than its own. How long this will last in the 
 years now before us, it is impossible to say, for the 
 Nation drags down its Church to its own level ; but still 
 the National Church has the same sort of influence over 
 the Nation that a periodical has upon the party which it 
 represents, and my own idea of a Catholic's fitting attitude 
 towards the National Church in this its supreme hour, is 
 that of assisting and sustaining it, if it be in our power, 
 in the interest of dogmatic truth. I should wish to avoid 
 every thing (except indeed under the direct call of duty, 
 and this is a material exception,) which w^ent to weaken 
 its hold upon the public mind, or to unsettle its establish- 
 ment, or to embarrass and lessen its maintenance of those 
 great Christian and Catholic principles and doctrines 
 which it has up to this time successfully preached. 
 
. THE ECONOMY. 343 
 
 NOTE F. ON PAGE 269. 
 
 THE ECONOMY. 
 
 For the Economy, considered as a rule of practice, I 
 shall refer to what I wrote upon it in 1830 — 32, in 
 my History of the Arians. I have shown above, pp. 26, 
 27, that the doctrine in question had in the early Church 
 a large signification, when applied to the divine ordi- 
 nances : it also had a definite application to the duties of 
 Christians, whether clergy or laity, in preaching, in 
 instructing or catechizing, or in ordinary intercourse with 
 the world around them ; and in this aspect I have here 
 to consider it. 
 
 As Almighty God did not all at once introduce the 
 Gospel to the world, and thereby gradually prepared men 
 for its profitable reception, so, according to the doctrine 
 of the early Church, it was a duty, for the sake of the 
 heathen among whom they lived, to observe a great 
 reserve and caution in communicating to them the know- 
 ledge of " the whole counsel of God.'' This cautious dis- 
 pensation of the truth, after the manner of a discreet and 
 vigilant steward, is denoted by the word "economy." It 
 is a mode of acting which comes under the head of Pru- 
 dence, one of the four Cardinal Virtues. 
 
 The principle of the Economy is this ; that out of 
 various courses, in religious conduct or statement, all and 
 each allowable antecedently and in themsekes, that ought to 
 be taken which is most expedient and most suitable at the 
 time for the object in hand. 
 
 Instances of its application and exercise in Scripture 
 are such as the following: — 1. Divine Providence did but 
 
344 NOTE F. 
 
 gradually impart to the world in general, and to the Jews 
 in particular, the knowledge of His will: — He is said to 
 have " winked at the times of ignorance among the hea- 
 then ;" and He suffered in the Jews divorce " because of 
 the hardness of their hearts." 2. He has allowed Him- 
 self to be represented as having eyes, ears, and hands, as 
 having wrath, jealousy, grief, and rej)entance. 3. In like 
 manner, our Lord spoke harshly to the Syro-Phoenician 
 woman, whose daughter He was about to heal, and made 
 as if He would go further, when the two disciples had 
 come to their journey's end. 4. Thus too Joseph '* made 
 himself strange to his brethren," and Elisha kept silence 
 on request of Naaman to bow in the house of Eimmon. 
 5. Thus St. Paul circumcised Timothy, while he cried out 
 *' Circumcision availeth not." 
 
 It may be said that this principle, true in itself, yet is 
 dangerous, because it admits of an easy abuse, and carries 
 men away into what becomes insincerity and cunning. 
 This is undeniable ; to do evil that good may come, to 
 consider that the means, whatever they are, justify the 
 end, to sacrifice truth to expedience, unscrupulousness, 
 recklessness, are grave offences. These are abuses of 
 the Economy. But to call them econoinicali^ to give a fine 
 name to what occurs every day, independent of any know- 
 ledge of the doctrine of the Economy. It is the abuse of 
 a rule which nature suggests to every one. Every one 
 looks out for the " moUia tempera fandi," and for "mollia 
 verba" too. 
 
 Having thus explained what is meant by the Economy 
 as a rule of social intercourse between men of different 
 religious, or, again, political, or social views, next I will 
 go on to state what I said in the Arians. 
 
 I say in that Volume first, that our Lord has given us 
 the vnnciple in His own words, — '' Cast not j^our pearls 
 before swine ;" and that He exemplified it in His teach- 
 
THE ECONOMY. 
 
 345 
 
 ing by parables; that St. Paul expressly distinguishes 
 between the milk which is necessary to one set of men, 
 and the strong meat which is allowed to others, and that, 
 in two Epistles. I say, that the Apostles in the Acts 
 observe the same rule in their speeches, for it is a fact, 
 that they do not preach the high doctrines of Christianity, 
 but only " Jesus and the Resurrection '' or " repentance 
 and faith." I also say, that this is the very reason that 
 the Fathers assign for the silence of various writers in the 
 first centuries on the subject of our Lord's divinity. 
 I also speak of the catechetical system practised in the 
 early Church, and the dmiplina arcani as regards the 
 doctrine of the Holy Trinity, to which Bingham bears 
 witness ; also of the defence of this rule by Basil, Cyril 
 of Jerusalem, Chrysostom, and Theodoret. 
 
 But next the question may be asked, whether I have 
 said any thing in my Volume to guard the doctrine, thus 
 laid down , from the abuse to which it is obviously exposed : 
 and my answer is easy. Of course, had I had any idea 
 that I should have been exposed to such hostile mis- 
 representations, as it has been my lot to undergo on the 
 subject, I should have made more direct avowals than I 
 have done of my sense of the gravity and the danger of 
 that abuse. Since I could not foresee when I wrote, that 
 I should have been wantonly slandered, I only wonder 
 that I have anticipated the charge as fully as will be seen 
 in the following extracts. 
 
 For instance, speaking of the Disciplina Arcani, I say : — 
 (1) *' The elementary information given to the heathen or 
 catechumen was in no sense undone by the subsequent secret 
 teaching, which was in fact but the filling tip of a hare but 
 correct outline,'* p. 58, and I contrast this with the conduct 
 of the Manichaeans " who represented the initiatory disci- 
 pline as founded on a fiction or hypothesis, which was to 
 be forgotten by the learner as he made progress in the real 
 
31G 
 
 NOTE F. 
 
 doctrine of the Gospel." (2) As to allegorizing, I say- 
 that the Alexandrians erred, whenever and as far as they 
 proceeded " to obscure the primary meaning of Scripture, 
 and to iceaken the force of historical facts and express de- 
 clarations," p. 69. (3) And that they were '' more open 
 to censure^" when, on being " urged hy objections to various 
 passages in the history of the Old Testament, as derogatory 
 to the divine perfections or to the Jewish Saints, they had 
 recourse to an allegorical explanation by way of answer/' p. 71. 
 
 (4) I add, " It is impossible to defend such a procedure, which 
 seems to imply a ivant of faith in those who had recourse to 
 it ;" for " God has given us rules of right and ivrong,'^ ibid. 
 
 (5) Again, I say, — " The abuse of the Economy in tJie hands 
 of unscrupulous reasoners, is obvious. JSven the honest con- 
 troversialist or teacher will find it very difficult to repre- 
 sent, without misrepresenting y what it is yet his duty to pre- 
 sent to his hearers with caution or reserve. Here the 
 obvious rule to guide our practice is, to be careful ever to 
 maintain substantial truth in our use of the economical 
 method," pp. 79, 80. (6) And so far from concurring at 
 all hazards with Justin, Gregory, or Athanasius, I say, 
 ^^ It is plain [they] were justified or not in their Economy, 
 according as they did or did not practically mislead their 
 opponents,' p. 80. (7) I proceed, *' It is so difficult to hit 
 the mark in these perplexing cases, that it is not won- 
 derful, should these or other Fathers have failed at times, 
 and said more or less than was proper," ibid. 
 
 The Principle of the Economy is familiarly acted on 
 among us every day. ^yhen we would persuade others, 
 we do not begin by treading on their toes. Men would be 
 thought rude who introduced their own religious notions 
 into mixed societ}^ and were devotional in a drawing-room. 
 Have we never thought lawyers tiresome who did not 
 observe this polite rule, who came down for the assizes and 
 talked law all through dinner ? Does the same argument 
 
THE ECOXOMY. 347 
 
 tell in the House of Commons, on the hustings, and at 
 Exeter Hall ? Is an educated gentleman never v/orsted 
 at an election by the tone and arguments of some clever 
 fellow, who, whatever his shortcomings in other respects, 
 understands the common people ? 
 
 As to the Catholic E,eligion in England at the present 
 day, this only will I observe, — that the truest expedience 
 is to answer right out, when you are asked ; that the wisest 
 economy is to have no management ; that the best pru- 
 dence is not to be a coward ; that the most damaging folly 
 is to be found out shuffling ; and that the first of virtues is 
 to *•' tell truth, and shame the devil." 
 
348 NOTE G. 
 
 NOTE a. ON PAGE 279. 
 
 LYING AND EQUIVOCATION. 
 
 Almost all authors, Catholic and Protestant, admit, that 
 token a just cause is present, there is some kind or other of 
 verbal misleading, which is not sin. Even silence is in 
 certain cases virtually such a misleading, according to the 
 Proverb, " Silence gives consent.'' Again, silence is abso- 
 lutely forbidden to a Catholic, as a mortal sin, under cer- 
 tain circumstances, e. g. to keep silence, when it is a duty 
 to make a profession of faith. 
 
 Another mode of verbal misleading, and the most direct, 
 is actually saying the thing that is not ; and it is defended 
 on the principle that such words are not a lie, when there 
 is a " justa causa," as killing is not murder in the case of 
 an executioner. 
 
 Another ground of certain authors for saying that an 
 untruth is not a lie where there is a just cause, is, that 
 veracity is a kind of justice, and therefore, when we have 
 no duty of justice to tell truth to another, it is no sin not 
 to do so. Hence we may say the thing that is not, to 
 children, to madmen, to men who ask impertinent ques- 
 tions, to those whom we hope to benefit by misleading. 
 
 Another ground, taken in defending certain untruths, ex 
 justd causa, as if not lies, is, that veracity is for the sake of 
 society, and that, if in no case whatever we might lawfully 
 mislead others, we should actually be doing society great 
 harm. 
 
 Another mode of verbal misleading is equivocation or a 
 play upon words ; and it is defended on the theory that to 
 
LYING AND EQUIVOCATION. 349 
 
 lie is to use words in a sense which, they will not bear. 
 But an equivocator uses them in a received sense, though 
 there is another received sense, and therefore, according to 
 this definition, he does not lie. 
 
 Others say that all equivocations are, after all, a kind of 
 lying, — faint lies or awkward lies, but still lies ; and some 
 of these disputants infer, that therefore we must not equi- 
 vocate, and others that equivocation is but a half- measure, 
 and that it is better to say at once that in certain cases 
 untruths are not lies. 
 
 Others will try to distinguish between evasions and 
 equivocations ; but though there are evasions which are 
 clearly not equivocations, yet it is very difficult scientifi- 
 cally to draw the line between the one and the other. 
 
 To these must be added the unscientific way of dealing 
 with lies : — viz. that on a great or cruel occasion a man 
 cannot help telling a lie, and he would not be a man, did 
 he not tell it, but still it is very wrong, and he ought not 
 to do it, and he must trust that the sin will be forgiven 
 him, though he goes about to commit it ever so deliberately, 
 and is sure to commit it again under similar circumstances. 
 It is a necessary frailty, and had better not be thought 
 about before it is incurred, and not thought of again, after 
 is is well over. This view cannot for a moment be de- 
 fended, but, I suppose, it is very common. 
 
 I think the historical course of thought upon the matter 
 has been this : the Greek Fathers thought that, when there 
 was ajusta causa, an untruth need not be a lie. St. Augus- 
 tine took another view, though with great misgiving : 
 and, whether he is rightly interpreted or not, is the doctor 
 of the great and common view that all untruths are lies, 
 and that there can be no just cause of untruth. In these 
 later times, this doctrine has been found difficult to work, 
 and it has been largely taught that, though all untruths 
 
350 NOTE G. 
 
 are lies, yet that certain equivocations, wlien there is a 
 just cause, are not untruths. 
 
 Further, there have been and all along through these 
 later ages, other schools, running parallel with the above 
 mentioned, one of which says that equivocations, &c. after 
 all are lies, and another which says that there are untruths 
 which are not lies. 
 
 And now as to the *' just cause," which is the condition, 
 sine qua non. The Greek Fathers make it such as these, 
 self-defence, charity, zeal for God's honour, and the like. 
 
 St. Augustine seems to deal with the same *'just causes" 
 as the Greek Fathers, even though he does not allow of 
 their availableness as depriving untruths, spoken on such 
 occasions, of their sinfulness. He mentions defence of life 
 and of honour, and the safe custody of a secret. Also the 
 great Anglican writers, who have follow^ed the Greek 
 Fathers, in defending untruths when there is the "just 
 cause," consider that *'just cause" to be such as the pre- 
 servation of life and property, defence of law, the good of 
 others. Moreover, their moral rights, e. g. defence against 
 the inquisitive, &c. 
 
 St. Alfonso, I consider, would take the same view of 
 the "justa causa" as the Anglican divines; he speaks 
 of it as '* quicunque finis honestus, ad servanda bona 
 spiritui vel corpori utilia ;' which is very much the view 
 which they take of it, judging by the instances which 
 they give. 
 
 In all cases, however, and as contemplated by all 
 authors, Clement of Alexandria, or Milton, or St. Alfonso, 
 such a causa is, in fact, extreme, rare, great, or at least 
 special. Thus the writer in the Melanges Theologiques 
 (Li^ge, 1852-3, p. 453) quotes Lessius : " Si absque justa 
 causa fiat, est abusio orationis contra virtutem veritatis, 
 et civilem consuetudinem, etsi proprie non sit menda- 
 
LYING AND EQUIVOCATION. 351 
 
 cium." That is, the virtue of truth, and the civil custom, 
 are the measure of the just cause. And so Yoit, " If a 
 man has used a reservation (restrictione non pure mentali) 
 without a g?'ave cause, he has sinned gravely.^' And so 
 the author himself, from whom I quote, and who defends 
 the Patristic and Anglican doctrine that there are un- 
 truths which are not lies, says, " Under the name of 
 mental reservation theologians authorize many lies, u'lwn 
 there is for them a grave reason and proportionate," i. e. 
 to their character. — p. 459. And so St. Alfonso, in another 
 Treatise, quotes St. Thomas to the effect, that if from one 
 cause two immediate effects follow, and, if the good effect 
 of that cause is equal in value to the bad effect (bonus 
 cequivalet malo), then nothing hinders the speaker's intend- 
 ing the good and only permitting the evil. From which it 
 will follow that, since the evil to society from lying is very 
 great, the just cause which is to make it allowable, must 
 be very great also. And so Kenrick : "It is confessed 
 by all Catholics that, in the common intercourse of life, 
 all ambiguity of language is to be avoided; but it is 
 debated whether such ambiguity is ever lawful. Most 
 theologians answer in the affirmative, supposing a grave 
 cause urges, and the [true] mind of the speaker can be 
 collected from the adjuncts, though in fact it be not 
 collected." 
 
 However, there are cases, I have already said, of 
 another kind, in which Anglican authors would think 
 a lie allowable ; such as when a question is impertinent. 
 Of such a case Walter Scott, if I mistake not, supplied a 
 very distinct example, in his denying so long the author- 
 ship of his novels. 
 
 What I have been saying shows what different schools 
 of opinion there are in the Church in the treatment of 
 this difficult doctrine ; and, by consequence, that a given 
 individual, such as I am, cannot agree with all of them. 
 
352 NOTE G. 
 
 and has a full right to follow which, of them he will. The 
 freedom of the Schools, indeed, is one of those rights of 
 reason, which the Church is too wise really to interfere 
 with. And this applies not to moral questions only, but 
 to dogmatic also. 
 
 It is supposed by Protestants that, because St. Alfonso's 
 writings have had such high commendation bestowed upon 
 them by authority, therefore they have been invested with 
 a quasi-infallibility. This has arisen in good measure 
 from Protestants not knowing the force of theological 
 terms. The words to which they refer are the authorita- 
 tive decision that "nothing in his works has been found 
 ivorthy of censure ^^ " censura dignum ;" but this does not 
 lead to the conclusions which have been drawn from it. 
 Those words occur in a legal document, and cannot be 
 interpreted except in a legal sense. In the first place, 
 the sentence is negative; nothing in St. Alfonso's 
 writings is positively approved; and, secondly, it is not 
 said that there are no faults in what he has written, but 
 nothing which comes under the ecclesiastical censura^ 
 which is something very definite. To take and interpret 
 them, in the way commonly adopted in England, is the 
 same mistake, as if one were to take the word " Apologia " 
 in the English sense of apology, or " Infant " in law to 
 mean a little child. 
 
 1. Now first as to the meaning of the above form of words 
 viewed as a proposition. When a question on the subject 
 was asked of the fitting authorities at Pome by the Arch- 
 bishop of Besan^on, the answer returned to him contained 
 this condition, viz. that those words were to be inter- 
 preted, " with due regard to the mind of the Holy See 
 concerning the approbation of writings of the servants 
 of God, ad efiectum Canonizationis.'' This is intended to 
 prevent any Catholic taking the words about St. Alfonso's 
 
LYING AND EQUIVOCATION. 353 
 
 works in too large a sense. Before a Saint is canonized, 
 his works are examined, and a judgment pronounced upon 
 them. Pope Benedict XI Y. says, " The end or 8Cope of 
 this judgment is, that it may appear, whether the doc- 
 trine of the servant of God, which he has brought out in 
 his writings, is free from any soever theological censureJ' 
 And he remarks in addition, " It never can be said that 
 the doctrine of a servant of God is approved by the Holy 
 See, but at most it can [only] be said that it is not dis- 
 approved (non reprobatam) in case that the Revisers had 
 reported that there is nothing found by them in his works, 
 which is adverse to the decrees of Urban YIII., and that 
 the judgment of the Eevisers has been approved by the 
 sacred Congregation, and confirmed by the Supreme 
 Pontifi"." The Decree of Urban YIII. here referred to 
 is, " Let works be examined, whether they contain errors 
 against faith or good morals (bonos mores), or any new 
 doctrine, or a doctrine foreign and alien to the common 
 sense and custom of the Church." The author from whom 
 I quote this (M. Yandenbroeck, of the diocese of Malines) 
 observes, ''It is therefore clear, that the approbation of 
 the works of the Holy Bishop touches not the truth of 
 every proposition, adds nothing to them, nor even gives 
 them by consequence a degree of intrinsic probability." 
 He adds that it gives St. Alfonso's theology an extrinsic 
 probability, from the fact that, in the judgment of the 
 Holy See, no proposition deserves to receive a censure ; 
 but that " that probability will cease nevertheless in a 
 particular case, for any one who should be convinced, 
 whether by evident arguments, or by a decree of the 
 Holy See, or otherwise, that the doctrine of the Saint 
 deviates from the truth." He adds, " From the fact that 
 the approbation of the works of St. Alfonso does not decide 
 the truth of each proposition, it follows, as Benedict XIY. 
 has remarked, that we may combat the doctrine which 
 
 A a 
 
354 NOTE G. 
 
 they contain ; only, since a canonized saint is in question, 
 who is honoured by a solemn cidte in the Church, we 
 ought not to speak except with respect, nor to attack his 
 opinions except with temper and modesty.** 
 
 2. Then, as to the meaning of the word censura : 
 Benedict XIV. enumerates a number of '' Notes ** which 
 come under that name ; he says, *' Out of propositions 
 which are to be noted with theological censure, some are 
 heretical, some erroneous, some close upon error, some 
 savouring of heresy,*' and so on ; and each of these 
 terms has its own definite meaning. Thus by "erroneous** 
 is meant, according to Yiva, a proposition which is not 
 immediately opposed to a revealed proposition, but only to 
 a theological conclusion drawn from premisses which are 
 cle fide; "savouring of heresy is*' a proposition, which is 
 opposed to a theological conclusion not evidently drawn 
 from premisses which are de fide, but most probably and 
 according to the common mode of theologizing ; — and so 
 with the rest. Therefore when it was said by the Revisers 
 of St. Alfonso's works that they were not " worthy of 
 censure," it was only meant that they did not fall under 
 these particular Notes. 
 
 But the answer from Rome to the Archbishop of Besan- 
 gon went further than this ; it actually took pains to 
 declare that any one who pleased might follow other theo- 
 logians instead of St. Alfonso. After saying that no 
 Priest was to be interfered with who followed St. Alfonso 
 in the Confessional, it added, " This is said, however, 
 without on that account judging that they are reprehended 
 who follow opinions handed down by other approved 
 authors.** 
 
 And this too I will observe, — that St. Alfonso made 
 many changes of opinion himself in the course of his 
 writings ; and it could not for an instant be supposed that 
 we were bound to every one of his opinions, when he did 
 
LYING AND EQUIVOCATIOX. 355 
 
 not feel himself bound to them in his own person. And, 
 what is more to the purpose still, there are opinions, or 
 some opinion, of his whicli actually have been proscribed by 
 the Church since, and cannot now be put forward or used. 
 I do not pretend to be a well-read theologian myself, but 
 I say this on the authority of a theological professor of 
 Breda, quoted in the Melanges Theol. for 1850-1. He 
 says : '' It may happen, that, in the course of time, errors 
 may be found in the works of St. Alfonso and be pro- 
 scribed by the Church, a thing tvMch in fact has already 
 occurred.^ ^ 
 
 In not ranging myself then with those who consider 
 that it is justifiable to use words in a double sense, that is, 
 to equivocate, I put myself under the protection of such 
 authors as Cardinal Gerdil, JN^ataKs Alexander, Contenson, 
 Concina, and others. Under the protection of these autho- 
 rities, I say as follows : — 
 
 Casuistry is a noble science, but it is one to which I am 
 led, neither by my abilities nor my turn of mind. Inde- 
 pendently, then, of the difficulties of the subject, and the 
 necessity, before forming an opinion, of knowing more of 
 the arguments of theologians upon it than I do, I am very 
 unwilling to say a word here on the subject of Lying and 
 Equivocation. But I consider myself bound to speak ; and 
 therefore, in this strait, I can do nothing better, even for 
 my owTL relief, than submit myself, and what I shall say, to 
 the judgment of the Church, and to the consent, so far as in 
 this matter there be a consent, of the Schola Theologorum. 
 
 Now in the case of one of those special and rare exigen- 
 cies or emergencies, which constitute the justa causa of 
 dissembling or misleading, whether it be extreme as the 
 defence of life, or a duty as the custody of a secret, or of a 
 personal nature as to repel an impertinent inquirer, or a 
 
356 NOTE G. 
 
 matter too trivial to provoke question, as in dealing with 
 children or madmen, there seem to be four courses : — 
 
 1. To say the thing that is not. Here I draw the reader's 
 attention to the words material and formal. " Thou shalt 
 not kill;" murder is the formal transgression of this com- 
 mandment, but accidental homicide is the material trans- 
 gression. The matter of the act is the same in both cases; 
 but in the homicide, there is nothing more than the act, 
 whereas in murder there must be the intention, &c., which 
 constitutes the formal sin. So, again, an executioner com- 
 mits the material act, but not that formal killing which is 
 a breach of the commandment. So a man, who, simply to 
 save himself from starving, takes a loaf which is not his 
 own, commits only the material, not the formal act of 
 stealing, that is, he does not commit a sin. And so a 
 baptized Christian, es^ternal to the Church, who is in 
 invincible ignorance, is a material heretic, and not a formal. 
 And in like manner, if to say the thing which is not be in 
 special cases lawful, it may be called a material lie. 
 
 The first mode then which has been suggested of meet- 
 ing those special cases, in which to mislead by words has 
 a sufficient occasion, or has a Just cause, is by a mate- 
 rial lie. 
 
 The second mode is by an cequivocatio, which is not 
 equivalent to the English word " equivocation," but means 
 sometimes a play tq)on ivords, sometimes an evasion : we 
 must take these two modes of misleading separately. 
 
 2. A play upon words. St. Alfonso certainly says that 
 a play upon words is allowable ; and, speaking under cor- 
 rection, I should say that he does so on the ground that 
 Ijuig is not a sin against justice, that is, against our 
 neighbour, but a sin against God. God has made words the 
 signs of ideas, and therefore if a word denotes two ideas, 
 we are at liberty to use it in either of its senses : but 
 
LYING AND EQUIVOCATION. 357 
 
 I think I must be incorrect in some respect in supposing 
 that the Saint does not recognize a lie as an injustice, 
 because the Catechism of the Council, as I have quoted it 
 at p. 281, says, " Yanitate et mendacio fides ac Veritas 
 tolluntur, arctissima vincula societatis hiimance ; quibus 
 sublatis, sequitur summa vitse confusiOj ut homines nihil a 
 dcemonibiis differre videantiirJ* 
 
 3. Evasion ; — when, for instance, the speaker diverts 
 the attention of the hearer to another subject ; suggests an 
 irrelevant fact or makes a remark, which confuses him and 
 gives him something to think about ; throws dust into his 
 eyes ; states some truth, from which he is quite sure his 
 hearer will draw an illogical and untrue conclusion, and 
 the like. 
 
 The greatest school of evasion, I speak serioush^ is the 
 House of Commons ; and necessarily so, from the nature 
 of the case. And the hustings is another. 
 
 An instance is supplied in the history of St. Athana- 
 sius : he was in a boat on the Nile, flying persecution ; and 
 he found himself pursued. On this he ordered his men to 
 turn his boat round, and ran right to meet the satellites of 
 Julian. They asked him, "Have you seen Athanasius?" 
 and he told his followers to answer, '' Yes, he is close to 
 you.'* They went on their course as if they were sure to 
 come up to him, while he ran back into Alexandria, and 
 there lay hid till the end of the persecution. 
 
 I gave another instance above, in reference to a doctrine 
 of religion. The early Christians did their best to conceal 
 their Creed on account of the misconceptions of the 
 heathen about it. "Were the question asked of them, 
 " Do you worship a Trinity ?'' and did they answer, " AYe 
 worship one God, and none else ;" the inquirer might, or 
 would, infer that they did not acknowledge the Trinity of 
 Divine Persons. 
 
 It is very difficult to draw the line between these 
 
358 NOTE G. 
 
 eyasions and what are commonly called in English equivo- 
 cations ; and of this difficulty, again, I think, the scenes in 
 the House of Commons supply us with illustrations. 
 
 4. The fourth method is silence. For instance, not 
 giving the ivhole truth in a court of law. If St. Alban, 
 after dressing himself in the Priest's clothes, and being 
 taken before the persecutor, had been able to pass off for 
 his friend, and so gone to martyrdom without being dis- 
 covered ; and had he in the course of examination answered 
 all questions truly, but not given the whole truth, the 
 most important truth, that he was the wrong person, 
 he would have come very near to telling a lie, for a half- 
 truth is often a falsehood. And his defence must have 
 been the justa causa, viz. either that he might in charity or 
 for religion's sake save a priest, or again that the judge 
 had no right to interrogate him on the subject. 
 
 Now, of these four modes of misleading others by the 
 tongue, when there is a Justa causa (supposing there can 
 be such), — (1) a material lie, that is, an untruth which is 
 not a lie, (2) an equivocation, (3) an evasion, and (4) 
 silence, — First, I have no difficulty whatever in recog- 
 nizing: as allowable the method of siioice. 
 
 Secondly, But, if I allow of silence, why not of the 
 method of material lying, since half of a truth is often a lie? 
 And, again, if all killing be not murder, nor all taking 
 from another stealing, why must all untruths be lies? 
 Now I will say freely that I think it difficult to answer 
 this question, whether it be urged by St. Clement or by 
 Milton ; at the same time, I never have acted, and I think, 
 when it came to the point, I never should act upon such a 
 theory myself, except in one case, stated below. This I 
 say for the benefit of those who speak hardly of Catholic 
 theologians, on the ground that they admit text-books 
 which allow of equivocation. They are asked, how can we 
 trust you, when such are your views ? but such views, as 
 
LYING AND EQUIVOCATION. 3-^9 
 
 I alread}' have said, need not have any thing to do with 
 their own practice, merely from the circumstance that they 
 are contained in their text-books. A theologian draws 
 out a system ; he does it partly as a scientific speculation : 
 but much more for the sake of others. He is lax for the 
 sake of others, not of himself. His own standard of action 
 is much higher than that which he imposes upon men in 
 general. One special reason why religious men, after 
 drawing out a theory, are un willing to act upon it them- 
 selves, is this : that they practically acknowledge a broad 
 distinction between their reason and their conscience ; and 
 that they feel the latter to be the safer guide, though the 
 former may be the clearer, nay even though it be the 
 truer. They would rather be in error with the sanction of 
 their conscience, than be right with the mere judgment of 
 their reason. And again here is this more tangible diffi- 
 culty in the case of exceptions to the rule of Veracity, 
 that so very little external help is given us in drawing the 
 line, as to when untruths are allowable and when not ; 
 whereas that sort of killing which is not murder, is most 
 definitely marked ofi" by legal enactments, so that it can- 
 not possibly be mistaken for such killing as is murder. 
 On the other hand the cases of exemption from the rule 
 of Veracity are left to the private judgment of the indi- 
 vidual, and he may easily be led on from acts which are 
 allowable to acts which are not. Now this remark does 
 not apply to such acts as are related in Scripture, as being 
 done by a particular inspiration, for in such cases there is 
 a command. If I had my own way, I would oblige 
 society, that is, its great men, its lawyers, its divines, its 
 literature, publicly to acknowledge as such, those instances 
 of untruth which are not lies, as for instance untruths in 
 war ; and then there could be no perplexity to the indi- 
 vidual Catholic, for he would not be taking the law into 
 his own hands. 
 
360 NOTE G. 
 
 Thirdly, as to playing upon words, or equivocation, I 
 suppose it is from the English habit, but, without meaning 
 any disrespect to a great Saint, or wishing to set myself 
 up, or taking my conscience for more than it is worth, I 
 can only say as a fact, that I admit it as little as the rest 
 of my countrymen : and, without any reference to the 
 right and the wrong of the matter, of this I am sure, that, 
 if there is one thing more than another which prejudices 
 Englishmen against the Catholic Church, it is the doctrine 
 of great authorities on the subject of equivocation. For 
 myself, I can fancy myself thinking it was allowable in 
 extreme cases for me to lie, but never to equivocate. 
 Luther said, "Pecca fortiter." I anathematize his formal 
 sentiment, but there is a truth in it, when spoken of mate- 
 rial acts. 
 
 Fourthly, I think evasion, as I have described it, to be 
 perfectly allowable ; indeed, I do not know, who does not 
 use it, under circumstances ; but that a good deal of moral 
 danger is attached to its use ; and that, the cleverer a man 
 is, the more likely he is to pass the line of Christian duty. 
 
 But it may be said, that such decisions do not meet the 
 particular difficulties for which provision is required ; let 
 us then take some instances. 
 
 1. I do not think it right to tell lies to children, even 
 on this account, that they are sharper than we think them, 
 and will soon find out what we are doing ; and our ex- 
 ample will be a very bad training for them. And so of 
 equivocation : it is easy of imitation, and we ourselves shall 
 be sure to get the worst of it in the end. 
 
 2. If an early Father defends the patriarch Jacob in 
 his mode of gaining his father's blessing, on the ground 
 that the blessing was divinely pledged to him already, that 
 it was his, and that his father and brother were acting at 
 once against his own rights and the divine will, it does not 
 
LYING AND EQUIVOCATION. 361 
 
 follow from this that such conduct is a pattern to us, who 
 have no supernatural means of determining ichen an un- 
 truth becomes a material, and not q. formal lie. It seems to 
 me very dangerous, be it ever allowable or not, to lie or 
 equivocate in order to preserve some great temporal or 
 spiritual benefit ; nor does St. Alfonso here say any thing 
 to the contrary, for he is not discussing the question of 
 danger or expedience. 
 
 3. As to Johnson's case of a murderer asking you which 
 way a man had gone, I should have anticipated that, had 
 such a difficulty happened to him, his first act would have 
 been to knock the man down, and to call out for the police ; 
 and next, if he was worsted in the conflict, he would not 
 have given the ruffian the information he asked, at what- 
 ever risk to himself. I think he would have let himself 
 be killed first. I do not think that he would have told 
 a lie. 
 
 4. A secret is a more difficult case. Supposing some- 
 thing has been confided to me in the strictest secrecy, 
 which could not be revealed without great disadvantage to 
 another, what am I to do ? If I am a lawyer, I am pro- 
 tected by my profession. I have a right to treat with ex- 
 treme indignation any question which trenches on the 
 inviolability of my position ; but, supposing I was driven 
 up into a corner, I think I should have a right to say an 
 untruth, or that, under such circumstances, a lie would be 
 material, but it is almost an impossible case, for the law 
 would defend me. In like manner, as a priest, I should 
 think it lawful to speak as if I knew nothing of what 
 passed in confession. And I think in these cases, I do in 
 fact possess that guarantee, that I am not going by private 
 judgment, which just now I demanded ; for society would 
 bear me out, whether as a lawyer or as a priest, in holding 
 that I had a duty to my client or penitent, such, that an 
 
362 NOTE G. 
 
 untruth in the matter was not a lie. A common type of 
 this permissible denial, be it material lie or evasion, is at the 
 moment supplied to me : — an artist asked a Prime Minister, 
 who was sitting to him, "What news, my Lord, from 
 France?'' He answered, '*/ do not knoiv ; I have not 
 read the Papers." 
 
 5. A more difficult question is, when to accept con- 
 fidence has not been a duty. Supposing a man wishes to 
 keep the secret that he is the author of a book, and he is 
 plainly asked on the subject. Here I should ask the 
 previous question, whether any one has a right to publish 
 what he dare not avow. It requires to have traced the 
 bearings and results of such a principle, before being sure 
 of it ; but certainly, for myself, I am no friend of strictly 
 anonymous writing. Next, supposing another has con- 
 fided to you the secret of his authorship : — there are per- 
 sons who would have no scrujple at all in giving a denial 
 to impertinent questions asked them on the subject. I 
 have heard a great man in his day at Oxford, warmly 
 contend, as if he could not enter into any other view of 
 the matter, that, if he had been trusted by a friend with 
 the secret of his being author of a certain book, and he 
 were asked by a third person, if his friend was not (as 
 he really was) the author of it, he ought, without any 
 scruple and distinctly, to answer that he did not know. 
 He had an existing duty towards the author ; he had 
 none towards his inquirei. The author had a claim on 
 him ; an impertinent questioner had none at all. But 
 here again I desiderate some leave, recognized by society, 
 as in the case of the formulas " Not at home," and "Not 
 guilty," in order to give me the right of saying what is 
 a material untruth. And moreover, I should here also 
 ask the previous question, Have I any right to accept 
 such a confidence? have I any right to make such a 
 
LYING AND EQUIVOCATION. obJ 
 
 promise ? and, if it be an unlawful promise, is it binding 
 wlien it cannot be kept without a lie ? I am not attempting 
 to solve these difficult questions, but they have to be care- 
 fully examined. And now I have said more than I had 
 intended on a question of casuistry. 
 
SUPPLEMENTAL MATTER. 
 
 
 
 I. 
 
 
 ' 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 AND PAPERS OF 
 
 THE AUTHOR USED IN THE 
 
 
 COURSE OF 
 
 THIS WORK. 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 February 
 
 11, 1811 
 
 . 3 
 
 September 12, 
 
 1841 
 
 . 190 
 
 October 
 
 26, 1823 
 
 . 2 
 
 October 12, 
 
 it 
 
 . 143 
 
 September 
 
 7, 1829 
 
 . 119 
 
 17, 
 
 i) 
 
 . 140 
 
 July 
 
 20, 1834 
 
 . 41 
 
 22, 
 
 it 
 
 . 140 
 
 November 28, „ 
 
 . 57 
 
 November 11, 
 
 it 
 
 . 145 
 
 August 
 
 18, 1837 
 
 . 29 
 
 14, 
 
 a 
 
 . 144 
 
 February 
 
 11, 1840 
 
 . 124 
 
 December 13, 
 
 }) 
 
 . 156 
 
 >> 
 
 21, „ 
 
 . 129 
 
 24, 
 
 tt 
 
 . 157 
 
 October 
 
 29(?)„ 
 
 . 132 
 
 „ 25, 
 
 it 
 
 . 159 
 
 JN'ovember 
 
 J) 
 
 . 135 
 
 „ 26, 
 
 a 
 
 . 162 
 
 March 
 
 15, 1841 
 
 . 137 
 
 March 6, 
 
 1842 
 
 . 177 
 
 ft 
 
 20, „ 
 
 . 170 
 
 April 14, 
 
 it 
 
 . 173 
 
 a 
 
 24, „ 
 
 . 208 
 
 October 16, 
 
 it 
 
 . 171 
 
 it 
 
 25, „ 
 
 . 137 
 
 November 22, 
 
 it 
 
 . 193 
 
 April 
 
 1. „ 
 
 . 137 
 
 Feb. 25, & 28, 
 
 1843 
 
 . 181 
 
 j> 
 
 4, „ 
 
 . 138 
 
 March 3, 
 
 a 
 
 . 182 
 
 j> 
 
 8, ), 
 
 . 138 
 
 8, 
 
 it 
 
 . 184 
 
 it 
 
 8, „ 
 
 . 187 
 
 May 4, 
 
 it 
 
 . 208 
 
 it 
 
 26, „ 
 
 . 188 
 
 18, 
 
 tt 
 
 . 209 
 
 May 
 
 5, „ 
 
 . 188 
 
 June 20, 
 
 it 
 
 . 178 
 
 a 
 
 9, „ 
 
 . 138 
 
 July 16, 
 
 a 
 
 . 179 
 
 June 
 
 18, „ 
 
 . 189 
 
 August 29, 
 
 a 
 
 . 213 
 
LETTERS AND PAPERS OF THE AUTHOR, &C. 
 
 365 
 
 August 30, 1843 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 179 
 
 November 16, 
 
 1844 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 228 
 
 September 7, „ 
 
 . 213 
 
 24, 
 
 a 
 
 . 229 
 
 j> '^^f i) 
 
 . 225 
 
 1844 (?) 
 
 
 . 225 
 
 October 14, „ 
 
 . 219 
 
 1844 or 1845 
 
 
 . 167 
 
 » 25, „ 
 
 . 221 
 
 January 8, 
 
 1845 
 
 . 230 
 
 j> 31, „ 
 
 . 223 
 
 March 30, 
 
 
 . 231 
 
 November 13, „ 
 
 . 140 
 
 April 3, 
 
 
 . 232 
 
 1843 or 1844 
 
 . 178 
 
 16, 
 
 
 . 180 
 
 January 22, 1844 
 
 . 226 
 
 June 1, 
 
 
 . 232 
 
 February 21, „ 
 
 . 226 
 
 17, 
 
 
 . 180 
 
 April 3, „ 
 
 . 205 
 
 October 8, 
 
 
 . 234 
 
 )) 8, „ 
 
 . 226 
 
 November 8, 
 
 
 . 155 
 
 July 14, „ 
 
 . 197 
 
 25, 
 
 
 . 235 
 
 September 16, „ 
 
 . 227 
 
 January 20, 
 
 1846 
 
 . 236 
 
 November 7, „ 
 
 . 230 
 
 December 6, 
 
 1849 
 
 . 185 
 
 u >» 
 
 . 211 
 
 
 
 
SUPPLEMENTAL MATTER. 
 II. 
 
 LIST OF THE AUTHOR'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 The request has been made to me from various quarters 
 for a list of my writings. This I now give, as follows 
 [up to Christmas, 1873] :— 
 
 1 — 8. Parochial and Plain Sermons Rivington?. 
 
 9. Sermons on Subjects of the Day Rivingtous. 
 
 10. University Sermons Rivingtons. 
 
 11. Sermons to Mixed Congregations .... Burns and Gates. 
 
 12. Occasional Sermons Burns and Gates. 
 
 13. Lectures on the Prophetical Gffice of the Church . . Gut of print. 
 
 14. Lectures on Justification Rivingtons. 
 
 15. Lectures on the Difficulties of Anglicans, &c., with Letter 
 
 to Dr. Pusey Burns and Gates. 
 
 16. Lectures on the present position of Catholics . . Burns and Gates. 
 
 17. Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent . . . Burns and Gates. 
 
 18. Two Essays on Miracles Pickering. 
 
 19. 20. Essays, Critical and Historical, with Notes. 1. 
 
 Poetry. 2. Rationalism. 3. De la Mennais. 4. Pal- 
 mer on Faith and Unity. 5. St. Ignatius. 6. Pros- 
 pects of the Anglican Church. 7. The Anglo-American 
 Church. 8. Countess of Huntingdon. 9. Catholicity 
 of the Anglican Church. 10. The Antichrist of Pro- 
 testants. 11. Milman's Christianity. 12. Reformation 
 of the Eleventh Century. 13. Private Judgment. 14. 
 Davison. 15. Kehle Pickering. 
 
 21. Discussions and Arguments. 1. How to accomplish it. 
 
 2. Antichrist of the Fathers. 3. Scripture and the 
 Creed. 4. Tam worth Reading Room. 5. Who's to 
 Blame ? 6. An Argument for Christianity . . Pickering. 
 
 22. Pamphlets Gut of print. 
 
 23. Idea of a University. 1. Nine Discourses. 2. Gccasional 
 
 Lectures and Essays Pickering. 
 
 2 i. Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine . . Toovey. 
 25. Annotated Translation of Athanasius .... Parker. 
 
LIST OF THE AUTIIOE^'s PUBLICATIOXS. , 3C7 
 
 2G. Theological Tracts. 1. Dissertatiunculse. 2, Doctrinal 
 Causes of Arianism. 3. ApoUinarianism. 4. St. Cyril's 
 Formula. 5. Ordo de Tempore. 6. Douay version of 
 Scripture ......... Pickering. 
 
 27. The Arians of the Fourth Century Lumley. 
 
 28—30. Historical Sketches. 1. The Turks. 2. Cicero. 3. 
 Apollonius. 4. Primitive Christianity. 5. Church 
 of the Fathers. 6. St. Chrysostom. 7. Theodoret. 
 8. St. Benedict. 9. Benedictine Schools. 10. Uni- 
 versities. 11. Northmen and Normans. 12. Mediaeval 
 Oxford. 13. Convocation of Canterbury . . . Pickering. 
 
 31. Loss and Gain Burns and Gates. 
 
 32. Callista Burns and Gates. 
 
 33. Verses on Various Gccasions Burns and Gates. 
 
 31. Apologia pro Vita sua Longmans. 
 
368 SUPPLEMENTAL MATTEK. 
 
 IIL 
 
 LETTER OF APPROBATIOX AND ENCOURAGEMENT FROM THB 
 BISHOP OF THE DIOCESE OF BIRMINGHAM, DR. ULLA- 
 THORNE. 
 
 "Bishop's House, June 2, 1804. 
 
 "My dear Dr. Newman, — 
 
 "It was with warm gratification that, after the close of the Synod 
 yesterday, I listened to the Address presented to you by the clergy of the 
 diocese, and to your impressive reply. But I should have been little satisfied 
 with the part of the silent listener, except on the understanding with myself 
 that I also might afterwards express to you my own sentiments in my own 
 way. 
 
 " We have now been personally acquainted, and much more than acquainted, 
 for nineteen years, during more than sixteen of which we have stood in special 
 relation of duty towards each other. This has been one of the singular bless- 
 ings which God has given me amongst the cares of the Episcopal office. What 
 my feelings of respect, of confidence, and of affection have been towards you, 
 you know well, nor should I think of expressing them in words. But there is 
 one thing that has struck me in this day of explanations, which you could not, 
 and would not, be disposed to do, and which no one could do so properly or 
 so authentically as I could, and which it seems to me is not altogether un- 
 called for, if every kind of erroneous impression that some persons have enter- 
 tained with no better evidence than conjecture is to be removed. 
 
 " It is difficult to comprehend how, in the face of facts, the notion should 
 ever have arisen that during your Catholic life, you have been more occupied 
 with your own thoughts than with the service of religion and the work of the 
 Church, If we take no other work into consideration beyond the written pro- 
 ductions which your Catholic pen has given to the world, they are enough for 
 the life's labour of another. There are the Lectures on Anglican Difficulties, 
 the Lectures on Catholicism in England, the great work on the Scope and 
 End of University Education, that on the Office and Work of Universities, 
 the Lectures and Essays on University Subjects, and the two Volumes of 
 Sermons; not to speak of your contributions to the Atlantis, which you 
 founded, and to other periodicals ; then there are those beautiful offerings to 
 Catholic literature, the Lectures on the Turks, Loss and Gain, and Callista, 
 and though last, not least, the Apologia, which is destined to put many idle 
 
LETTER OF DR. IJLLATHORNE. 369 
 
 rumours to rest, and many unprofitable surmises; and yet all these productions 
 represent but a portion of your labour, and that in the second half of your 
 period of public life. 
 
 " These works have been written in the midst of labour and cares of another 
 kind, and of which the world knows very little. I will specify four of these 
 undertakings, each of a distinct character, and any one of which would have 
 made a reputation for untiring energy in the practical order. 
 
 " The first of these undertakings was the establishment of the congregation 
 of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri — that great ornament and accession to the 
 force of English Catholicity. Both the London and the Birmingham Oratory 
 must look to you as their founder and as the originator of their characteristic 
 excellences; whilst that of Birmingham has never known any other presi- 
 dency. 
 
 "No sooner was this work fairly on foot than you were called by the 
 highest authority to commence another, and one of yet greater magnitude and 
 difficulty, the founding of a University in Ireland. After the Universities had 
 been lost to the Catholics of these kingdoms for three centuries, every thing 
 had to be begun from the beginning : the idea of such an institution to be 
 inculcated, the plan to be formed that would work, the resources to be 
 gathered, and the staff of superiors and professors to be brought together. 
 Your name was then the chief point of attraction which brought these ele- 
 ments together. You alone know what difficulties you had to conciliate and 
 what to surmount, before the work reached that state of consistency and pro- 
 mise, which enabled you to return to those responsibiUties in England which 
 you had never laid aside or suspended. And here, excuse me if I give ex- 
 pression to a fancy which passed through my mind. 
 
 " I was lately reading a poem, not long published, from the MSS. De 
 Rerum Natura, by Neckham, the foster-brother of Richard the Lion-hearted. 
 He quotes an old prophecy, attributed to Merlin, and with a sort of wonder, 
 as if recollecting that England owed so much of its literary learning to that 
 country; and the prophecy says that after long years Oxford will pass into 
 Ireland — * Vada bourn suo tempore transibunt in Hiberniam.' When I read 
 this, I could not but indulge the pleasant fancy that in the days when the 
 Dublin University shall arise in material splendour, an allusion to this pro- 
 phecy might form a poetic element in the inscription on the pedestal of the 
 statue which commemorates its first Rector. 
 
 "The original plan of an Oratory did not contemplate any parochial work, 
 but you could not contemplate so many souls in want of pastors without being 
 prompt and ready at the beck of authority to strain all your efforts in coming 
 to their help. And this brings me to the third and the most continuous of 
 those labours to which I have alluded. The mission in Alcester Street, its 
 church and schools, were the first work of the Birmingham Oratory. After 
 several years of close and hard work, and a considerable call upon the private 
 resources of the Fathers who had established this congregation, it was de- 
 
 B b 
 
6i{j SUPPLEMENTAL MATTER, 
 
 livered over to other hands, and the Fathers removed to the distrint of 
 Edgbaston, where up to that time nothing Catholic had appeared. Then 
 arose under your direction the large convent of the Oratory, the church 
 expanded by degrees into its present capaciousness, a numerous congregation 
 has gathered and grown in it ; poor schools and other pious institutions have 
 grown up in connexion with it, and, moreover, equally at your expense and 
 that of your brethren, and, as I have reason to know, at much inconvenience, 
 the Oratory has relieved the other clergy of Birmingham all this while by 
 constantly doing the duty in the poor-house and gaol of Birmingham. 
 
 " More recently still, the mission and the poor school at Smethwick owe 
 their existence to the Oratory. And all this while the founder and father of 
 these religious works has added to his other solicitudes the toil of frequent 
 preaching, of attendance in the confessional, and other parochial duties. 
 
 " [ have read on this day of its publication the seventh part of the 
 Apologia, and the touching allusion in it to the devotedness of the Catholic 
 clergy to the poor in seasons of pestilence reminds me that when the cholera 
 raged so dreadfully at Bilston, and the two priests of the town were no longer 
 equal to the number of cases to which they were hurried day and night, I 
 asked you to lend me two fathers to supply the place of other priests whom i 
 wished to send as a further aid. But you and Father St. John preferred to 
 take the place of danger which I had destined for others, and remained at 
 Bilston till the worst was over. 
 
 " The fourth work which I would notice is one more widely known. I 
 refer to the school for the education of the higher classes, which at the solicita- 
 tion of many friends you have founded and attached to the Oratory. Surely 
 after reading this bare enumeration of work done, no man will venture to say 
 that Dr. Newman is leading a comparatively inactive life in the service of the 
 Church. 
 
 " To spare, my dear Dr. Newman, any further pressure on those feelings 
 with which I have already taken so large a liberty, I will only add one word 
 more for my own satisfaction. During our long intercourse there is only one 
 subject on which, after the first experience, I have measured m.y words with 
 some caution, and that has been where questions bearing on ecclesiastical duty 
 have arisen. I found some little caution necessary, because you were always 
 so prompt and ready to go even beyond the slightest intimation of my wish or 
 desires. 
 
 *' That God may hless you with health, life, and all the spiritual good which 
 you desire, you and your brethren of the Oratory, is the earnest prayer now 
 and often of, 
 
 " My dear Dr. Newman, 
 
 ** Your affectionate friend and faithful servant 
 in Christ, 
 
 " + W. B. ULLATHORNE." 
 
LETTEHS OF APPROBATION, &C. 371 
 
 lY. 
 
 LETTERS OF APPROBATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT FROM 
 CLERGY AND LAITY. 
 
 It requires some words of explanation whj I allow myself 
 to sound my own praises so loudly, as I am doing by 
 adding to my Yolume the following Letters, written to me 
 last year by large bodies of my Catholic brethren, Priests, 
 and Laymen, in the course or on the conclusion of the 
 publication of my Apologia. I have two reasons for 
 doing so. 
 
 1. It seems hardly respectful to them, and hardly fair 
 to myself, to practise self-denial in a matter, which after 
 all belongs to others as well as to me. Bodies of men be- 
 come authorities by the fact of being bodies, over and above 
 the personal claims of the individuals who constitute them. 
 To have received such unusual Testimonials in my favour, 
 as I have to produce, and then to have let both those 
 Testimonials and the generous feelings which dictated 
 them be wasted, and come to nought, would have been 
 a rudeness of which I could not bear to be guilty. Far 
 be it from me to show such ingratitude to those who 
 were especially "friends in need/' I am too proud of 
 their approbation not to publish it to the world. 
 
 2. But I have a further reason. The belief obtains 
 extensively in the country at large, that Catholics, and 
 especially the Priesthood, disavow the mode and form, in 
 which I am accustomed to teach the Catholic faith, as if 
 they were not generally recognized, but something special 
 and peculiar to myself; as if, whether for the purposes 
 
372 SUPPLEMENTAL :MATTER. 
 
 of controversy, or from the traditions of an earlier period 
 of my life, I did not exhibit Catholicism pure and simple, 
 as the bulk of its professors manifest it. Such testimonials, 
 then, as now follow, from as many as 558 priests, that is, 
 not far from half of the clergy of England, secular and 
 religious, from the Bishop and clergy of a diocese at the 
 Antipodes, and from so great and authoritative a body as 
 the Grerman Congress assembled last year at Wurzburg, 
 scatter to the winds a suspicion, which it is not less pain- 
 ful, I am persuaded, to numbers of those Protestants 
 who entertain it, than it is injurious to me who have to 
 bear it. 
 
 I. THE DIOCESE OF WESTMINSTER. 
 
 The following Address was signed by 110 of the 
 Westminster clergy, including all the Canons, the Vicars- 
 General, a great number of secular priests, and five 
 Doctors in theology ; Fathers of the Society of Jesus, 
 Fathers of the Order of St. Dominic, of St. Francis, of the 
 Oratory, of the Passion, of Charity, Oblates of St. Charles, 
 and Marists. 
 
 "London, March 15, 1864. 
 " Very Reverend and Dear Sir, 
 
 " We, the undersigned Priests of the Diocese of Westminster, 
 tender to you our respectful thanks for the service you have done to religion, 
 as well as to the interests of literary morality, by your Reply to the calumnies 
 of [a popular writer of the day.] 
 
 " We cannot but regard it as a matter of congratulation that your assailant 
 should have associated the cause of the Catholic Priesthood with the name of 
 one so well fitted to represent its dignity, and to defend its honour, as 
 yourself. 
 
 "We recognize in this latest effort of your literary power one further claim, 
 besides the many you have already established, to the gratitude and venera- 
 tion of Catholics, and trust that the reception which it has met with on all 
 
LETTERS OF APPROBATION, &C. > 37H 
 
 sides may be the omen of new successes which you are destined to achieve in 
 the vindication of the teaching and principles of the Church. 
 
 "We are, 
 
 "Very Reverend and Dear Sir, 
 
 " Your faithful and affectionate Servants in Christ." 
 {The Subscriptions follow.) 
 " To the Very Rev. 
 
 ** John Henry Newman, D.D." 
 
 II. — THE ACADEMIA OF CATHOLIC RELIGION. 
 
 " London, April 19, 18G4. 
 ** Very Rev. and Dear Sir, 
 
 " The Academia of Catholic Religion, at their meeting held 
 to-day, under the Presidency of the Cardinal Archbishop, have instructed us 
 to write to you in their behalf. 
 
 " As they have learned, with great satisfaction, that it is your intention to 
 publish a defence of Cathohc Veracity, which has been assailed in your person, 
 they are precluded from asking you that that defence might be made by word 
 of mouth, and in London, as they would otherwise have done. 
 
 " Composed, as the Academia is, mainly of Laymen, they feel that it is not 
 out of their province to express their indignation that your opponent should 
 have chosen, while praising the Catholic Laity, to do so at the expense of th* 
 Clergy, between whom and themselves, in this as in all other matters, there 
 exists a perfect identity of principle and practice. 
 
 " It is because, in such a matter, your cause is the cause of all Catholics, 
 that we congratulate ourselves on the rashness of the opponent that has 
 thrown the defence of that cause into your hands. 
 
 " We remain, 
 
 *' Very Reverend and Dear Sir, 
 
 " Your very faithful Ser^^ants, 
 
 "JAMES LAIRD PATTERSON,) ~ ^^, .^, 
 "EDW. LUCAS, ] Secretaries. 
 
 "To the Very Rev. John Henry Newman, D.D., 
 " Provost of the Birmingham Oratory." 
 
 The above was moved at the meeting by Lord Petre, 
 and seconded by the Hon. Charles Langdale. 
 
374 SUPPLEMENTAL MATTER. 
 
 III. — THE DIOCESE OF BIRMINGHAM. 
 
 In this Diocese there were in 1864, according to the 
 Directory of the year, 136 Priests. 
 
 "June I, 10fi4. 
 •* Very Reverend and Dear Sir, 
 
 ** In availing ourselves of your presence at the Diocesan 
 Synod to offer you our hearty thanks for your recent vindication of the honour 
 of the Catholic Priesthood, We, the Provost and Chapter of the Cathedral, 
 and the Clergy, Secular and Regular, of the Diocese of Birmingham, cannor. 
 forego the assertion of a special right, as your neighbours and colleagues, to 
 express our veneration and affection for one whose fidelity to the dictates of 
 conscience, in the use of the highest intellectual gifts, has won even from 
 opponents unbounded admiration and respect. 
 
 **To most of us you are personally known. Of some, indeed, you were, in 
 years long past, the trusted guide, to whom they owe more than can be ex- 
 pressed in words ; and all are conscious that the ingenuous fulness of your 
 answer to a false and unprovoked accusation, has intensified their interest in 
 the labours and trials of your life. While, then, we resent the indignity to 
 which you have been exposed, and lament the pain and annoyance which the 
 manifestation of yourself must have cost you, we cannot but rejoice that, in 
 the fulfilment of a duty, you have allowed neither the unworthiness of your 
 assailant to shield him from rebuke, nor the sacredness of your inmost motives 
 to deprive that rebuke of the only form which could at once complete his 
 discomfiture, free your own name from the obloquy which prejudice had cast 
 upon it, and afford invaluable aid to honest seekers after Truth. 
 
 " Great as is the work which you have already done, Very Reverend Sir, 
 permit us to express a hope that a greater yet remains for you to accomplish. 
 In an age and in a country in which the very foundations of religious faith are 
 exposed to assault, we rejoice in numbering among our brethren one so well 
 quahfied by learning and experience to defend that priceless deposit of Trutli, 
 in obtaining which you have counted as gain the loss of all things most dear 
 and precious. And we esteem ourselves happy in being able to offer you that 
 support and encouragement which the assurance of our unfeigned admiration 
 and regard may be able to give you under your present trials and future 
 labours. 
 
 "That you may long have strength to labour for the Church of God and 
 the glory of His Holy Name is, Very Reverend and Dear Sir, our heartfelt 
 and united prayer." 
 
 ( The Subscriptions foll'oio.) 
 
 •* To the Very Rev. John Henry Newman, D.D." 
 
LETTERS OF APPROBATION, &C. 375 
 
 IV. THE DIOCESE OF BEVERLEY. 
 
 The following Address, as is stated in the first para- 
 graph, comes from more than 70 Priests : — 
 
 «' Hull, May 9, 18fi4. 
 
 " Very Rev, and Dear Dr. Newman, 
 
 " At a recent meeting of the clergy of the Diocese of 
 Beverley, held in York, at which upwards of seventy priests were present, 
 special attention was called to your correspondence with [a popular writer] ; 
 and such was the enthusiasm with which your name was received — such was 
 the admiration expressed of the dignity with which you had asserted the 
 claims of the Catholic Priesthood in England to be treated with becoming 
 courtesy and respect — and such was the strong and all-pervading sense of the 
 invaluable service which you had thus rendered, not only to faith and morals, 
 but to good manners so far as regarded religious controversy in this country, 
 that I was requested, as Chairman, to become the voice of the meeting, and 
 to express to you as strongly and as earnestly as I could, how heartily the 
 whole of the clergy of this diocese desire to thank you for services to religion 
 as well-timed as they are in themselves above and beyond all commenda- 
 tion, services which the Catholics of England will never cease to hold in 
 most grateful remembrance. God, in His infinite wisdom and great mercy, 
 has raised you up to stand prominently forth in the glorious work of re-estab- 
 lishing in this country the holy faith which in good old times shed such lustre 
 upon it. We all lament that, in the order of nature, you have so few years 
 before you in which to fight against false teaching that good fight in which 
 you have been so victoriously engaged of late. But our prayers are that you 
 may long be spared, and may possess to the last all your vigour, and all that 
 zeal for the advancement of our holy faith, which imparts such a charm to the 
 productions of your pen. 
 
 I esteem it a great honour and a great privilege to have been deputed, as the 
 representative of the clergy of the Diocese of Beverley, to tender you the fullest 
 expression of our most grateful thanks, and the assurance of our prayers for 
 your health and eternal happiness. 
 
 ** I am, 
 
 " Very Rev. and Dear Sir, 
 
 '* With sentiments of profound respect, 
 
 " Yours most faithfully in Christ, 
 
 " M. TRAPPES. 
 " The Very Rev. Dr. Newman." 
 
376 SUPPLEMENTAL MATTER. 
 
 V. AND VI. — THE DIOCESES OF LIVERPOOL AND SALFORD. 
 
 The Secular Clergy of Liverpool amounted in. 1864 to 
 103, andofSalfordto76. 
 
 " Preston, July 27, 18G4. 
 " Very Rev. and Dear Sir, 
 
 " It may seem, perhaps, that the Clergy of Lancashire have been 
 slovr to address you ; but it vrould be incorrect to suppose that they have been 
 indifferent spectators of the conflict in which you have been recently engaged. 
 This is the first opportunity that has presented itself, and they gladly avail 
 themselves of their annual meeting in Preston to tender to you the united 
 expression of their heartfelt sympathy and gratitude. 
 
 " The atrocious imputation, out of which the late controversy arose, was felt 
 as a personal affront by them, one and all, conscious as they were, that it 
 was mainly owing to your position as a distinguished Catholic ecclesiastic, that 
 the charge was connected with your name. 
 
 " While they regret the pain you must needs have suffered, they cannot help 
 rejoicing that it has afforded you an opportunity of rendering a new and most 
 important service to their holy religion. Writers, who are not overscrupulous 
 about the truth themselves, have long used the charge of untruthfulness as an 
 ever ready weapon against the Catholic Clergy. Partly from the frequent repe- 
 tition of this charge, partly from a consciousness that, instead of undervaluing 
 the truth, they have ever prized it above every earthly treasure, partly, too, 
 from the difficulty of obtaining a hearing in their own defence, they have gene- 
 rally passed it by in silence. They thank you for coming forvv'ard as their 
 champion : your own character required no vindication. It was their battle 
 more than your own that you fought. They know and feel how much pain 
 it has caused you to bring so prominently forward your own life and motives, 
 but they now congratulate you on the completeness of your triumph, as ad- 
 mitted alike by friend and enemy. 
 
 " In addition to answering the original accusation, you have placed them 
 under a new obligation, by giving to all, who read the English language, a work 
 which, for literary ability and the lucid exposition of many diflScult and abstruse 
 points, forms an invaluable contribution to our literature. 
 
 " They fervently pray that God may give you health and length of days, and, 
 if it please Him, some other cause in which to use for His glory the great 
 powers bestowed upon you. 
 
 " Signed on behalf of the Meeting, 
 
 "THOS. PROVOST COOKSON. 
 «' The Very Rev. J. H. Newman." 
 
LETTERS OF APPROBATION, &C. . 377 
 
 VTI. — THE DIOCESE OF HEXHAM. 
 
 The Secular Priests on Mission in 1864 in this Diocese 
 were 64. 
 
 "Durham, Sept. 22, 18G1. 
 " My Dear Dr. Newman, 
 
 " At the annual meeting of the Clergy of the Diocese of Hexham 
 and Newcastle, held a few days ago at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, I was commis- 
 sioned by them to express to you their sincere sympathy, on account of the 
 slanderous accusations, to which you have been so unjustly exposed. We are 
 fully aware that these foul calumnies were intended to injure the character of 
 the whole body of the Catholic Clergy, and that your distinguished name was 
 singled out, in order that they might be more effectually propagated. It is 
 well that these poisonous shafts were thus aimed, as no one could more tri- 
 umphantly repel them. The ' Apologia pro Vita sua' will, if possible, render 
 still more illustrious the name of its gifted author, and be a lasting monument 
 of the victory of truth, and the signal overthrow of an arrogant and reckless 
 assailant. 
 
 " It may appear late for us now to ask to join in yjur triumph, but as the 
 Annual Meeting of the Northern Clergy does not take place till this time, it is 
 the first occasion offered us to present our united congratulations, and to de- 
 clare to you, that by none of your brethren are you more esteemed and vene- 
 rated, than by the Clergy of the Diocese of Hexham and Newcastle. 
 
 " Wishing that Almighty God may prolong your life many more years for 
 the defence of our holy religion and the honour of your brethren, 
 
 "I am, dear Dr. Newman, 
 
 " Yours sincerely in Jesus Christ, 
 
 "RALPH PROVOST PLATT, V. G. 
 
 " The Very Rev. J. H. Newman." 
 
 VIII. — THE CONGRESS OF WfJRZBURG. 
 
 " September 15, 1864. 
 " Sir, 
 
 " The undersigned, President of the Catholic Congress of Ger- 
 many assembled in Wiirzburg, has been commissioned to express to you, Very 
 Rev. and Dear Sir, its deep-felt gratitude for your late able defence of the 
 Catholic Clergy, not only of England, but of the whole world, against the 
 attacks of its enemies. 
 
3<S SUPPLEMENTAL :.iATTEIl. 
 
 ** The Catholics of Germany unite with the Catholics of England in testify- 
 ing to you their profound admiration and sympathy, and pray that the 
 Almighty may long preserve your valuable life. 
 
 "The above Resolution was voted by the Congress with acclamation. 
 
 " Accept, very Rev. and Dear Sir, the expression of the high consideration 
 with which I am 
 
 ** Your most obedient servant, 
 
 " (Signed) ERNEST BARON MOIJ DE SONS. 
 
 ** The Very Rev. J. H. Newman." 
 
 IX. — THE DIOCESE OF HOEART TOWN. 
 
 " Hobart Town, Tasmania, November 22, 18G4. 
 
 " Very Rev. and Dear Sir, 
 
 "By the last month's post we at length received your 
 admirable book, entitled, * Apologia pro Vita sua,' and the pamphlet, * What 
 then does Dr. Newman mean?' 
 
 " By this month's mail, we wish to express our heartfelt gratification and 
 delight for being possessed of a work so triumphant in maintaining truth, and 
 so overwhelming in confounding arrogance and error, as the * Apologia.' 
 
 " No doubt, your adversary, resting on the deep-seated prejudice of our 
 fellow-countrymen in the United Kingdom, calculated upon establishing his 
 own fame as a keen-sighted polemic, as a shrewd and truth-loving man, upon 
 the fallen reputation of one, who, as he would demonstrate, — yes, that he 
 would, — set little or no value on truth, and who, therefore, would deservedly 
 sink into obscurity, henceforward rejected and despised ! 
 
 " Aman of old erected a gibbet at the gate of the city, on which an 
 unsuspecting and an unoffending man, one marked as a victim, was to be 
 exposed to the gaze and derision of the people, in order that his own dignity 
 and fame might be exalted ; but a divine Providence ordained otherwise. 
 The history of the judgment that fell upon Aman, has been recorded in 
 Holy Writ, it is to be presumed, as a warning to vain and unscrupulous men, 
 even in our days. There can be no doubt, a moral gibbet, full ' fifty cubits 
 high,' had been prepared some time, on which you were to be exposed, for 
 the pity at least, if not for the scorn and derision of so many, who had loved 
 and venerated you through life ! 
 
 " But the effort made in the forty-eight pages of the redoubtable pam- 
 phlet, 'What then does Dr. Newman Mean?' — the production of a bold, 
 unscrupulous man, with a coarse mind, and regardless of inflicting pain on 
 
LETTERS OF APPEOBATIOX, &0. - 379 
 
 the feelings of another, has failed,— marvellously failed, — and he himself is 
 now exhibited not only in our fatherland, but even at the Antipodes, in fact 
 wherever the English language is spoken or read, as a shallow pretender, one 
 quite incompetent to treat of matters of such undying interest as those he 
 presumed to interfere with. 
 
 " We fervently pray the Almighty, that you may be spared to His Church 
 for many years to come, — that to Him alone the glory of this noble work 
 may be given, — and to you the reward in eternal bliss ! 
 
 " And from this distant land we beg to convey to you, Very Rev. and Dear 
 Sir, the sentiments of our affectionate respect, and deep veneration." 
 
 {The Subscriptions follow, of the Bishop Vicar- General 
 and eighteen Clergy.) 
 
 " The Very Rev. Dr. Newman, 
 &c. &c. &c." 
 
ADDITIONAL NOTES 
 
 NOTE ON PAGE 12. 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE WITH ARCHBISHOP WHATELY IN 1834. 
 
 On application of the Editor of Dr. Whately's Corre- 
 spondence, the following four letters were sent to her for 
 publication : they are here given entire. It will be 
 observed that they are of the same date as my letter to 
 Dr. Hampden at p. 57. 
 
 1. 
 
 " Dublin, October 25, 1834. 
 *' My dear Newman, 
 
 " A most shocking report concerning you has reached me, 
 which indeed carries such an improbability on the face of it that you may 
 perhaps wonder at my giving it a thought ; and at first I did not, but finding 
 it repeated from different quarters, it seems to me worth contradicting for 
 the sake of your character. Some Oxford undergraduates, I find, openly 
 report that when I was at Oriel last spring you absented yourself from chapel 
 on purpose to avoid receiving the Communion along with me ; and that you 
 yourself declared this to be the case. 
 
 ** I would not notice every idle rumour ; but this has been so confidently 
 and so long asserted that it would be a satisfaction to me to be able to declare 
 its falsity as a fact, from your authority. I did indeed at once declare my 
 utter unbelief; but then this has only the weight of my opinion ; though an 
 opinion resting I think on no insufficient grounds. I did not profess to rest 
 my disbelief on our long, intimate, and confidential friendship, which would 
 make it your right and your duty — if I did any thing to offend you or any 
 thing you might think materially wrong — to remonstrate with me ; — but on 
 your general character ; which I was persuaded would have made you inca- 
 pable, even had no such close connexion existed between us, of conduct so 
 unchristian and inhuman. But, as I said, I should like for your sake to be 
 able to contradict the report from your own authority. 
 
 " Ever yours very truly, 
 
 " R. WHATELY." 
 
CORRESPONDENCE WITH ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. 381 
 
 2. 
 
 " Oriel College, October 28, 1834. 
 "My dear Lord, 
 
 "My absence from the Sacrament in the College Chapel on the 
 Sunday you were in Oxford, was occasioned solely and altogether by my 
 having it on that day in St. Mary's ; and I am pretty sure, if I may trust my 
 memory, that I did not even know of your Grace's presence there, till after 
 the Service. Most certainly such knowledge would not have affected my 
 attendance. I need not say, this being the case, that the report of my having 
 made any statement on the subject is quite unfounded ; indeed, your letter of 
 this morning is the first information I have had in any shape of the existence 
 of the report. 
 
 " I am happy in being thus able to afford an explanation as satisfactory 
 to you, as the kind feelings which you have ever entertained towards me 
 could desire ; — yet, on honest reflection, I cannot conceal from myself, that 
 it was generally a relief to me, to see so little of your Grace, when you were 
 at Oxford : and it is a greater relief now to have an opportunity of saying so 
 to yourself. I have ever wished to observe the rule, never to make a public 
 charge against another behind his back, and, though in the course of conver- 
 sation and the urgency of accidental occurrences it is sometimes difficult to 
 keep to it, yet I trust I have not broken it, especially in your own case : i. e. 
 though my most intimate friends know how deeply I deplore the line of 
 ecclesiastical policy adopted under your archiepiscopal sanction, and though in 
 society I may have clearly shown that I have an opinion one way rather than 
 the other, yet I have never in my intention, never (as I believe) at all, spoken 
 of your Grace in a serious way before strangers ; — indeed mixing very little in 
 general society, and not overapt to open myself in it, I have had little tempta- 
 tion to do so. Least of all should I so forget myself as to take under- 
 graduates into my confidence in such a matter. 
 
 " I wish I could convey to your Grace the mixed and very painful feelings, 
 which the late history of the Irish Church has raised in me : — the union of 
 her members with men of heterodox views, and the extinction (without 
 ecclesiastical sanction) of half her Candlesticks, the witnesses and guarantees 
 of the Truth and trustees of the Covenant. I willingly own that both in my 
 secret judgment and my mode of speaking concerning you to my friends, 
 I have had great alternations and changes of feeling, — defending, then 
 blaming your policy, next praising your own self and protesting against your 
 measures, according as the affectionate remembrances which I had of you rose 
 against my utter aversion of the secular and unbelieving policy in which I 
 considered the Irish Church to be implicated. I trust I shall never be forget- 
 ful of the kindness you uniformly showed me during your residence in 
 Oxford : and anxiously hope that no duty to Christ and His Church may ever 
 
382 NOTE ON PAGE 12. 
 
 interfere with the expression of my sense of it. However, on the present 
 opportunity, I am conscious to myself, that I am acting according to the 
 dictates both of duty and gratitude, if I beg your leave to state my per- 
 suasion, that the perilous measures in which your Grace has acquiesced are 
 but the legitimate offspring of those principles, difficult to describe in few 
 words, with which your reputation is especially associated ; principles which 
 bear upon the very fundamentals of all argument and investigation, and affect 
 almost every doctrine and every maxim by which our faith or our conduct is 
 to be guided. I can feel no reluctance to confess, that, when I first was 
 noticed by your Grace, gratitude to you and admiration of your powers wrought 
 upon me ; and, had not something from within resisted, I should certainly 
 have adopted views on religious and social duty, which seem to my present 
 judgment to be based in the pride of reason and to tend towards infidelity, 
 and which in your own case nothing but your Grace's high religious temper 
 and the unclouded faith of early piety has been able to withstand. 
 
 " I am quite confident, that, however you may regard this judgment, you will 
 give me credit, not only for honesty, but for a deeper feeling in thus laying it 
 before you. 
 
 " May I be suffered to add, that your name is ever mentioned in my prayers, 
 and to subscribe myself 
 
 *' Your Grace's very sincere friend and servant, 
 
 "J. H.NEWMAN." 
 
 3. 
 
 " Dublin, November 3, 1834. 
 
 " My dear Newman, 
 
 " I cannot forbear writing again to express the great satisfac- 
 tion I feel in the course I adopted ; which has, eventually, enabled me to 
 contradict a report which was more prevalent and more confidently upheld 
 than I could have thought possible : and which, while it was perhaps likely 
 to hurt my character with some persons, was injurious to yours in the eyes of 
 the best men. For what idea must any one have had of religion — or at least 
 of your religion — who was led to think there was any truth in the imputation 
 to you of such uncharitable arrogance ! 
 
 " But it is a rule with me, not to cherish, even on the strongest assertions, 
 any belief or even suspicion, to the prejudice of any one whom I have any 
 reason to think well of, till I have carefully inquired, and dispassionately 
 heard both sides. And I think if others were to adopt the same rule, I 
 should not myself be quite so much abused as I have been. 
 
 " I am well aware indeed that one cannot expect all, even good men, to 
 
CORRESPONDENCE WITH ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. 383 
 
 think alike on every point, even after they shall have heard both sides ; and 
 that we may expect many to judge, after all, very harshly of those who do 
 differ from them : for, God help us ! what will become of men if they receive 
 no more mercy than they show to each other ! But at least, if the rule 
 were observed, men would not condemn a brother on mere vague popular 
 rumour, about principles (as in my case) ' difficult to describe in few words,' 
 and with which his 'reputation is associated.' My own reputation I know 
 is associated, to a very great degree, with what are in fact calumnious impu- 
 tations, originated in exaggerated, distorted, or absolutely false statements, 
 for which even those who circulate them, do not, for the most part, pretend 
 to have any ground except popular rumour: like the Jews at Rome ; ' as 
 for this way, we know that it is every where spoken against.' 
 
 " For I have ascertained that a very large proportion of those who join in 
 the outcry against my works, confess, or even boast, that they have never 
 read them. And in respect of the measure you advert to — the Church 
 TemporaUties Act — (which of course I shall not now discuss), it is curious 
 to see how many of those who load me with censure for acquiescing in it, 
 receive with open arms, and laud to the skies, the Primate ; who w^as con- 
 sulted on the measure— as was natural, considering his knowledge of Irish 
 affairs, and his influence — long before me; and gave his consent to it; 
 differing fi'om Ministers only on a point of detail, whether the revenues of 
 six Sees, or of ten, should be alienated. 
 
 " Of course, every one is bound ultimately to decide according to his own 
 judgment ; nor do I mean to shelter myself under his example: but only to 
 point out what strange notions of justice those have, who acquit with applause 
 the leader, and condemn the follower in the same individual transaction. 
 
 " Far be it from any servant of our Master, to feel surprise or anger at 
 being thus treated : it is only an admonition to me to avoid treating others in 
 a similar manner; and not to 'judge another's servant,' at least without a 
 fair hearing. 
 
 " You do me no more than justice, in feeling confident that I shall give 
 you credit both for ' honesty and for a deeper feeling ' in freely laying your 
 opinions before me : and besides this, you might have been no less confident, 
 from your own experience, that, long since — whenever it was that you 
 changed your judgment respecting me — if you had freely and calmly remon- 
 strated with me on any point where you thought me going wrong, I should 
 have listened to you with that readiness and candour and deference, which 
 as you well know, I always showed, in the times when ' we took sweet 
 counsel together, and walked in the house of God as friends ;' — when we 
 consulted together about so many practical measures, and about almost 
 all the principal points in my publications. 
 
 " I happen to have before me a letter from you just eight years ago, 
 in which, after saying that ' there are few things you wish more sincerely 
 than to be known as a friend of mine,' and attributing to me, in the 
 
384 NOTE ON PAGE 12. 
 
 warmest and most flattering terms, a much greater share in the forming of 
 your mind than I could presume to claim, you bear a testimony, in which 
 I do most heartily concur, to the freedom at least of our intercourse, and the 
 readiness and respect with which you were listened to. Your words are : 
 'Much as I owe to Oriel in the way of mental improvement, to none, as I 
 think, do I owe so much as to yourself. I know who it was first gave me 
 heart to look about me after my election, and taught me to think correctly, 
 and — strange office for an instructor — to rely upon myself. Nor can I forget 
 that it has been at your kind suggestion, that I have since been led to employ 
 myself in the consideration of several subjects, which I cannot doubt have 
 been very beneficial to my mind.' 
 
 " If in all this I was erroneous, — if I have misled you, or any one else, into 
 
 * the pride of reason,* or any other kind of pride, — or if I have entertained, 
 or led others into, any wrong opinions, 1 can only say I sincerely regret it. 
 And again I rejoice if I have been the means of contributing to form in any 
 one that * high religious temper and unclouded faith' of which I not only 
 believe, with you, that they are able to withstand tendencies towards infidelity, 
 but also, that without them, no correctness of abstract opinions is worth 
 much. But what I meant to point out, is, that there was plainly nothing to 
 preclude you from offering friendly admonition (when your view of my prin- 
 ciples changed), with a full confidence of being at least patiently and kindly 
 listened to. 
 
 *' I for my part could not bring myself to find relief in escaping the society 
 of an old friend, — with whom I had been accustomed to frank discussion, — on 
 account of my differing from him as to certain principles, whether through a 
 change of his views, or (much more) of my own, — till at least I had made full 
 trial of private and affectionate remonstrance and free discussion. Even a 
 
 * man that is a heretic,' we are told, even a ruler of a Church is not to 
 reject, till after repeated admonitions. 
 
 " But though your regard for me does not show itself such as I think mine 
 would have been under similar circumstances, I will not therefore reject what 
 remains of it. Let us pray for each other that it may please God to enUghten 
 whichever of us is, on any point, in error, and recall him to the truth ; and 
 that at any rate we may hold fast that charity, without which all knowledge, 
 and all faith, that could remove mountains, will profit us nothing. 
 
 " I fear you will read with a jaundiced eye, — if you venture to read it at all 
 — any publication of mine ; but * for auld lang syne' I take advantage of a 
 frank to enclose you my last two addresses to my clergy. 
 
 " Very sincerely yours, 
 
 " RD. WHATELY." 
 
COURESrONDENCE WITH ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. 385 
 
 « Oriel, November 11, 1834. 
 
 " My dear Lo.d, 
 
 "The remarks contained in your last letter do not come 
 upon me by surprise, and 1 can only wish that I may be as able to explain 
 myself to you, as I do with a clear and honest conscience to myself. Your 
 Grace will observe that the letter of mine from which you make an extract, 
 wa^ written when I ivas in habits of intimacy with you, in which I have not 
 been of late years. It does not at all follow, because I could then speak 
 freely to you, that I might at another time. Opportunity is the chief th ng 
 in such an nffice as delivering to a superior an opinion about himself. Though 
 I never concealed my opinion from you, I have never been forward. I have 
 spoken when place and time admitted, when my opinion was asked, when I 
 was called to your side and was made your counsellor. No such favourable 
 circumstances have befallen me of late years, — if I must now state in expla- 
 nation what in truth has never occurred to me in this fulness, till now I am 
 called to reflect upon my own conduct and to account for an apparent omission. 
 I have spoken the first opportunity you have given me ; and I am persuaded 
 good very seldom comes of volunteering a remonstrance. 
 
 " Again, I cannot doubt for an instant that you have long been aware in a 
 measure that my opinions differed from your Grace's. You knew it when at 
 Oxford, for you often found me differing from you. You must have felt it, at 
 the time you left Oxford for Dublin. You must have kiiown it from hearsay 
 in consequence of the book I have published. What indeed can account for 
 my want of opportuiiiries to speak to you freely my mind, but the feeling on 
 your part, (which, if existing, is nothing but a lair reason,) that my vitws are 
 different from yours ? 
 
 " And that difference is certainly of no recent date. I tacitly allude to it in 
 the very letter you quote — in which, I recollect well that the words ' strange 
 office for an instructor, — • to rely upon myself,* were intended to convey to you 
 that, much as I valued (and still value) your great kindness and the advantage 
 of your countenance to me at that time, yet even then I did not fall in with 
 the line of opinions which you had adopted. In them I never acquiesced. 
 Doubtless I may have used at times sentiments and expressions, which I 
 should not now use; but I believe these had no root in my mind, and as 
 such they were mere idle words which I ought ever to be ashamed of, because 
 they were idle. But the opinions to which I especially alluded in my former 
 letter as associated by the world with your Grace's name under the title of 
 ' Liberal,' (but not, as you suppose, received by me on the world's authority,) 
 are those which may be briefly described as the Anti-superstition notions ; 
 and to these I do not recollect ever assenting. Connected with these I would 
 
 C c 
 
386 KOTE ON PA.GE 12. 
 
 instance the undervaluing of Antiquity, and resting on one's own reasonings, 
 judgments, definitions, &c., rather than authority and precedent; and I think 
 I gave very little in to this ;— for a very short time too (if at all), in to the 
 notion that the State, as such, had nothing to do with religion. On the other 
 hand, whatever I held then deliberately, I believe I hold now ; though per- 
 haps I may not consider them as points of such prominent importance, or with 
 precisely the same bearing as I did then : — as the abohtion of the Jewish 
 Sabbath, the unscripturalness of the doctrine of imputed righteousness (i. e. 
 our Lord's active obedience) — the mistakes of the so-called Evangelical 
 system, the independence of the Church ; the genius of the Gospel as a 
 Law of Liberty, and the impropriety of forming geological theories from 
 Scripture. Of course every one changes in opinii)n between twenty and 
 thirty ; doubtless, I have changed ; yet I am not conscious that I have so 
 much changed, as made up my mind on points on which I had no opinion. 
 E.g. I had no opinion about the Catholic Question till 1829. No one can 
 truly say I was ever /or the Catholics ; but I was not against them. In 
 fact I did not enter into the stat» of the question at all. 
 
 ** Then as to my change of judgment as to the character of your Grace's 
 opinions, it is natural that, when two persons pursue different lines from the 
 same point, they should not discover their divergence for a long while; espe- 
 cially if there be any kind feeling in the one towards the other. It was not 
 for a very long time that I discovered that your opinions were (as I now think 
 them) but part of intellectual views, so different from your own inward mind 
 and character, so peculiar in themselves, and (if you will let me add) so dan- 
 gerous. For a long time I thought them to be but different ; for a longer, to 
 be but in parts dangerous ; but their full character in this respect came on me 
 almost on a sudden. I heard at Naples the project of destroying the Irish 
 Sees, and at first indignantly rejected the notion, which some one suggested, 
 that your Grace had acquiesced in it. I thought I recollected correctly your 
 Grace's opinion of the inherent rights of the Christian Church, and I thought 
 you never would allow men of this world so to insult it. When I returned 
 to England, all was over. I was silent on the same principle that you are 
 silent about it in your letter ; that it was not the time for speaking ; and I 
 only felt, what I hinted at when I wrote last, a bitter grief, which prompted 
 me, when the act was irretrievable, to hide myself from you. However, I 
 have spoken, with whatever pain to myself, the first opportunity you have 
 given me. 
 
 " I might appeal to my conscience without fear in proof of the delight it 
 would give me at this time to associate my name with ycurs, and to stand 
 forward as your friend and defender, however humble, I should hope you 
 know me enough to be sure, that, however great my faults are, I have no fear 
 of man such as to restrain me, if I could feel I had a call that way. But, ma^ 
 God help me, as I will evtr strive to fulfil my first duty, the defence of His 
 
CORRESPONDENCE WITH ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. 387 
 
 Church, and of the doctrine of the old Fathers, in opposition to all the innova- 
 tions and profanities which are rising round us. 
 
 " My dear Lord, 
 
 " Ever yours most sincerely and gratefully, 
 
 "J. H.NEWMAN. 
 
 •' P.S. I feel much obliged by your kindness in sending me your Addresses 
 to your clergy, which I value highly for your Grace's sake." 
 
388 BONIFACE OF CANTERBURY. 
 
 NOTE ON PAGE 323. 
 
 BONIFACE OF CANTERBURY. 
 
 When I made the above reference in 1865 to Boniface of 
 Canterbury, I was sure I had seen among my books some 
 recent authoritative declaration on the subject of his cultus 
 in opposition to the BoUandists ; but I did not know 
 where to look for it. I have now found in our Library 
 (Concess. Offic. t. 2) what was in my mind. It consists of 
 five documents proceeding from the Sacred Congregation 
 of Bites, with the following title : — 
 
 " Emo ac Revmo Djmino Card Lambruschini Relatore, Taurinen. Appro- 
 bationis cuhus ab immemorabili tempore prsestiti B. Bonifacio a Sobaudia 
 Archiepiscopi Cantuarien. Instante serenissimo Rege Sardmiae Carolo Alberto. 
 RomK, 1838." 
 
 Also Dr. Grrant, Bishop of Southwark, has kindly sup- 
 plied me with the following extract from the Corre- 
 spondance de Rome, 24 November, 1851, adding "St. 
 Boniface of Canterbury or of Savoy was beatified cequi- 
 pollenter by Gregory XVI. :" — 
 
 *'Le B Boniface de Savoie, xi de ce nome, petit-fils d' Humbert, iii 
 Archeveque de Cantorbery. Confirmation de son culte, egalement a la demande 
 du Roi Charles Albert, 7 Sept. 183!?. D'abord moine parmi les Chartreux, 
 puis Archeveque de Cantorbery, consacre par Innocent IV. au Concile 
 General de Lyons; il occupa le siege 25 ans. Mort en 1270 pendant un 
 voyage en Savoie. Son corps porte a Haucataoombe; concours des popu- 
 lations; miracles ; son corps retrouve intact trois siecles apres sa mort. Son 
 nom dans les livres lirurgiques. Sa fete celebree sans aucune interruption. 
 Siir la relation de Card. Lambruschini, la S. C. des Rites le 1 Sept. 1838, 
 decida qu'il constait de cas exceptionnel aux decrets d'Urbain VIII. p. 410." 
 
 GiLBEET AND EIVINGTOX, PEINTEES, ST. JOHN'S SQUAEE, LONDON, E.C. 
 
3SrO VEUVE BEK, 1874. 
 
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INDEX 
 
 ACTOX's Modem Cookery 27 
 
 AiHD's Blackstone Economised !7 
 
 Alpine Club Map of Switzerland 2$ 
 
 Alpine Guide (The) 23 
 
 Amos'S Jurisprudence 5 
 
 Primer of the Constitution 5 
 
 Axdebsos'S Strength of Materials 13 
 
 • Armsteoxg'S Organic Chemistry 13 
 
 ARXOLD'S (Dr.) Christian Life 20 
 
 Lectures on Modern History 2 
 
 Miscellaneous Works 9 
 
 School Sermons 20 
 
 Sermons 20 
 
 (T.) Manual of English Literature 8 
 
 Arxould's Life of Denmau 4 
 
 Atherstone Priory 24 
 
 Autumn Holidays of a Country Parson 9 
 
 ATRE'sTreasury of Bible Knowledge 21 
 
 Bacon's Essays, by Whatelt 6 
 
 Life and Letters, by Speddixg 5 
 
 "Works, edited by Speddixg 6 
 
 Bain's Logic, Deductive and Inductive 10 
 
 Mental and Moral Science 10 
 
 on the Senses and Intellect 10 
 
 Baker's 2 works on Ceylon 22 
 
 Ball's Alpine Guide 24 
 
 Becker's Charicles and Gallus 24 
 
 Bexfey's Sanskrit Dictionary 8 
 
 Black's Treatise on Brewing 27 
 
 Blackley's German-English Dictionary... 8 
 
 BLArxT:'s Rural Sports 25 
 
 Bloxam's Metals 13 
 
 Boultbee on 39 Articles 20 
 
 CouBXE's Catechism of the Steam Engine . 19 
 
 Handbook of Steam Engine 19 
 
 Improvements in the Steam 
 
 Engine 19 
 
 Treatise on the Steam Engine ... 19 
 
 Bowdler's Family Shakspeare 25 
 
 Bramley-Moore's Six Sisters of the 
 
 Valleys 25 
 
 Beaxde's Dictionary of Science, Litera- 
 ture, and Art 16 
 
 Bray's Manual of Anthropology 11 
 
 Philosophy of Necessity 11 
 
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