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PART IV.¹
HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS (FROM 1833 TO 1839).

In spite of the foregoing pages, I have no romantic story to tell; but I wrote ² 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 afterwards, when it was once begun, the special need of me was over.

When I got home from abroad, I found that already a movement 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, Mr. William Palmer of Dublin and Worcester College (not Mr. W[illiam] Palmer of Magdalen, who is now a Catholic), Mr. Arthur Perceval, and Mr. Hugh Rose.

To mention Mr. Hugh Rose's name is to kindle in the minds of those who knew him, a host of pleasant and affectionate 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

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of the times. He was gifted with a high and large mind, and a true sensibility 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 shortened 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 Reform 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 [:—by "liberal" I mean liberalism in religion, for questions of politics, as such, do not come into this narrative at all]. 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 publication; 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 had been more exactly thrown into the shape of a party, than in fact was the case. But he zealously backed up the first efforts 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 gratitude 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. Rose's state of health, which hindered those who so much admired him from availing themselves of his close co-operation in the

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coming fight. United as both he and they were in the general scope of the Movement, they were in discordance with each other from the first in their estimate of the means to be adopted for attaining it. Mr. Rose had a position in the Church, a name, and serious responsibilities; he had direct ecclesiastical superiors; he had intimate relations with his own University, and a large clerical connexion through the country. Froude and I were nobodies; with no characters to lose, and no antecedents to fetter us. Rose 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 conversation with him on the logical bearing of his principles, Mr. Rose said of him with quiet humour, that "he did not seem to be afraid 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 comparatively indifferent to the revolutionary action which would attend on their application to a given state of things; whereas in the thoughts of Rose, as a practical man, existing 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 would work. This was one of the first questions, which, as it seemed to me, ever] ³ 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 liberalism. 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. Rose, yet he used to apply to him an epithet, reproachful in his own mouth;—Rose was a "conservative." By bad luck, I brought out this word to Mr. Rose in a letter of my own, which I wrote to him in criticism of something he had inserted into the] ⁴ Magazine: I got a vehement rebuke for my pains, for though Rose 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 was another reason still, and a more elementary

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one, which severed Mr. Rose from the Oxford Movement. 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 penetrated both Froude and myself from the first, and recommended to us the course which things soon took spontaneously, and without set purpose of our own. Universities 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. Rose was in Suffolk, Mr. Perceval in Surrey, Mr. Keble in Gloucestershire; Hurrell Froude had to go for his health to Barbados] ⁵. Mr. Palmer indeed was] ⁶ in Oxford; this was an important advantage, and told well in the first months of the Movement;—but another condition, besides that of place, was required.

A far more essential unity was that of antecedents,—a common history, common memories, an intercourse of mind with mind in the past, and a progress and increase of] ⁷ 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

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Church dignitaries, 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 representative; 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 friends with 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 not unnaturally⁸ willing to give way. Keble and Froude advocated their continuance strongly, and were angry with me for consenting 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 scandalized 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 Review, 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

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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 effect would be spoiled. They were not intended as symbols è cathedrâ, but as the expression of individual minds; and individuals, feeling strongly, 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 systems rise out of individual exertions. Luther was an individual. The very faults of an individual excite attention; he loses, but his cause (if good and he powerful minded) gains. This is the way of things: we promote truth by a self-sacrifice."

The visit which I made to the Northamptonshire Rector was only one 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 rally 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. They were headed as being on ⁹ "Church Reform." 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

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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 the strong teaching of the Tracts, but I suppose the Editor discovered in me some divergence from his own line of thought; for at length he sent a very civil letter, apologizing for the non-appearance of my sixth communication, on the ground that it contained an attack upon "Temperance Societies," about which he did not wish a controversy in his columns. He added, however, his serious regret at the character 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 describing, were uncongenial to my natural temper, to the genius of the Movement, and to the historical mode of its success:—they 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 journey 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 momentous 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 well 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 Reformation:—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 were already in course of suppression; Church property was in course of

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confiscation; Sees would soon be receiving unsuitable occupants. We knew enough to begin preaching upon, and there was no one else to preach. I felt as on a vessel, which first gets under weigh, and then [clears out] the deck , and [stores away] luggage and live stock ¹⁰ into their proper receptacles.

Nor was it only that I had confidence in our cause, both in itself, and in its controversial force, but besides¹¹, I despised every rival system of doctrine and its arguments . 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 evangelical¹². 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 other hand¹³ that the Apostolical form of doctrine was essential and imperative, and its grounds of evidence impregnable. Owing to this confidence, 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 offence 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 satisfaction to me that the Record had allowed me to say so much in its columns, without remonstrance. I was amused so to hear of one of the Bishops, who, on reading an early Tract on the Apostolical Succession, could not make up 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 understand. When a correspondent, in good faith, wrote to a news-

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paper, to say that the "Sacrifice of the Holy Eucharist," 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 unwilling to draw an opponent on step by step <, by virtue of his own opinions, id="iii.p6.10"> 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 supplied¹⁴ 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 instance, 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 Mr. Froude's Remains that this word has got into our language. I think, I defended myself 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

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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 arguments; 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 my cause, which led me to the imprudence ¹⁵ or wantonness which I have been instancing, 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, before learning to love, we must "learn to ;" 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 more blessed termination of their course, than the spoiling of their goods and martyrdom." In consequence of a passage in my work upon the Arian History, a Northern dignitary wrote to accuse me of wishing to re-establish the 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 competent authority, 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 myself to

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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 auto-da-fe would have been the death of me. Again, when one of my friends, of liberal and evangelical opinions, wrote to expostulate 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 divisions: therefore I must avoid you." I dissuaded a lady from attending 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 bitterly and unfairly of me in his letters contemporaneously with the first years of the Movement; but in 1839, when ¹⁶ looking back, he uses terms of me, which it would be hardly modest in me to quote, were it not that what he says of me in praise is but part of a whole account of me ¹⁷. He says: "In this party [the anti-Peel, in 1829]¹⁸ I found, to my great surprise, my dear friend, Mr. Newman of Oriel. As he had been one of the annual Petitioners to Parliament for Catholic Emancipation, his sudden union with the most violent bigots was inexplicable to me. That change was the first manifestation 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 association, 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 myself; a friendship, which his principles of orthodoxy could not allow him to continue in regard to one, whom he now regards as inevitably doomed to eternal perdition. Such is the venomous character of orthodoxy. What mischief must it create in

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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!" (Vol. iii. p. 131.) He adds that I would have nothing to do with him, a circumstance 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 meant 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 strong persuasion in beliefs¹⁹ which I have since given up, so far a sort of guilt attaches to me, not only for that vain confidence, but for my multiform conduct in²⁰ consequence of it. But here²¹ I have the satisfaction of feeling that I have nothing to retract, and nothing to repent of. The main principle of the Movement²² 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

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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 <, id="iii.p6.21"> with sacraments 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 ecclesiastical 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 strengthened in me, not changed. When I began the Tracts for the Times I rested the main doctrine, of which I am speaking, upon Scripture, on St. Ignatius's Epistles[, and on the Anglican Prayer Book]. <1 id="iii.p6.23"> 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 id="iii.p6.24"> 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 Service, which teaches confession and absolution; to the Baptismal Service, in which the Priest speaks of the child after baptism as regenerate; to the Catechism, in which Sacramental Communion is receiving "verily the Body and Blood of Christ;" to the Commination Service, in which we are told to do "works of penance;" to the Collects, Epistles, and Gospels, to the calendar and rubricks, wherein we find the festivals of the Apostles, notice of certain other Saints, and days of fasting and abstinence.

<3. id="iii.p7.2"> 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

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authority, he says, "A man does not deceive that Bishop whom he sees, but he practises rather upon²³ 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 in the sight of my Bishop²⁴, as if [I was, as] it were[, in] the sight of God. It was one of my special safeguards against myself [and of my supports]; 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 before me, but I desired to please him personally, as I considered him 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 as 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 ecclesiastico, 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 Vicar of Christ. This was but a practical exhibition of the Anglican theory of Church Government, as I had already drawn it out myself<, after various Anglican Divines id="iii.p7.10">. 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 conversion, 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

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noble mind, and as kind-hearted and as considerate as he was noble. He ever sympathized with me in my trials which 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 observe ²⁵ that here again 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 effect. 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" foretold by St. John, as being influenced by "the spirit 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, and again that ²⁶ he was also a great and holy man; 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

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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 prejudice, 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 conversations 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 Roman 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 he did not ²⁷ 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, though I did

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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 maintenance of the doctrine and the rule of celibacy, which I recognized as Apostolic, and her faithful agreement with Antiquity in so many points [besides,] which were dear to me, was an argument as well as a plea in favour of the great Church of Rome. 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. "Considering 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 execute 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 was 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 say, 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 Rome. But besides this, it was a duty, because the prescription of such a protest was a living principle of my own Church, as expressed in not simply²⁸ a 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

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I adopted the argument of Bernard Gilpin, that Protestants "were not able to give any 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 Rome 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 introduced the subject of my feelings about Rome. 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 saying: men said that it was sheer Popery. I answered, "True, we seem to be making straight for it; but go on awhile, and you will come to a deep chasm across the path, which makes real approximation impossible." 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 Rome which they had formed, I had formed also. Whatever faults²⁹ then the Anglican system [might have], and however boldly I might point them out, any how that system was not vulnerable on the side ³⁰ of Rome, and might be mended in spite of her. In that very agreement of the two forms of faith, close as it might seem, would really be found, on examination, the elements and principles of an essential discordance.

It was with this supreme ³¹ persuasion on my mind that I fancied that there could be no rashness in giving to the

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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 differ 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, it would be only for a time; it would admit of explanation (, or it might suggest something profitable to Anglicans); it could not lead to Rome. 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 strangeness at first sight, presented to the Anglican mind, 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 recommend patience to others, and, with the racer in the Tragedy, look forward steadily and hopefully to the event, tþ t™lei p°stin f™rwn, [see how ill this looks when you do "update page" if it won't improve later, why not just transliterate -- as I think was done to Greek earlier -- to telei pistin pheron?] 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, by which I thought that it was both incumbent on us, and possible to us, to meet that onset of Liberal principles, of which we were all in immediate anticipation, whether in the Church, or in the University. And during the first year of the Tracts, the attack upon the University began. In November 1834 was sent to me by the author the second Edition of a Pamphlet entitled, "Observations on Religious Dissent, with particular reference to the use of religious tests in the University." In this Pamphlet it was

³²

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maintained, 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. 1; 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 formularies may³³ 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 feelings about the principles contained in it; tending, as they do, in my opinion, altogether to make shipwreck of Christian faith. I also lament, that, by its appearance, the first step has been taken towards interrupting that peace and mutual good understanding which has prevailed so long in this place, and which, if once seriously disturbed, will be succeeded by dissensions the more intractable, because justified in the minds of those who resist innovation by a feeling 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,

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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 any thing else. This is my own account of the matter, and I say it, neither as intending to disown the responsibility of what was done, nor ³⁴ 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 myself. I am giving my history from my own point of sight, and it is as follows :—I had lived for ten years 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. Undergraduates in due time took their degree, and became private tutors themselves. In this new status, in turn, they ³⁵ preached the opinions which they had already learned themselves ³⁶. 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 newspapers, 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 excesses, 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

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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 unconscious of it, and I think my immediate friends knew too well how disgusted I should be at the news ³⁷, 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 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 myself and my friends, while a gentleman was editor, a man of splendid talent, who, however, was scarcely an acquaintance of mine, and had no sympathy with the Tracts. When I was Editor myself, from 1838 to 1841, in my very first number, I suffered to appear a critique unfavourable 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, before 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

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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 myself. I shall have to make the same remark in its place concerning the Lives of the English Saints, which subsequently appeared. All this may seem inconsistent with what I have said of my fierceness. I am not bound to account 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 us. I had known him well since 1827-8, and had felt for him an enthusiastic admiration. I used to call him ho megas. His great learning, his immense diligence, his scholarlike mind, his simple devotion to the cause of religion, overcame 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 till 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. Without him we should have had no ³⁸ 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 charities, 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 affectionateness. There was henceforth a man who

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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. R(obert) Wilberforce, or Mr. Newman 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 surprise how they got there, and attached no significancy to the fact; but Dr. Pusey was, to use the common expression, 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 Movement externally; nor was the internal advantage ³⁹ 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, Dr. Pusey had it ⁴⁰. The most remarkable instance of this, was his statement, in one of his subsequent defences of the Movement, when too ⁴¹ it had advanced a considerable way in the direction of Rome, that among its hopeful ⁴² peculiarities was its "stationariness." 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 sobriety, more gravity, more careful

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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 other Tracts from different authors, if not of equal learning, yet of equal power and appositeness. The Catenas of Anglican divines(, projected by me,) which occur in the Series, [though projected, I think, by me,] 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 appearance 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 Rome. 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 re-assure 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 was another

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reason still, and quite as important. Monsignore Wiseman, with the acuteness and zeal which might be expected from that great Prelate, had anticipated what was coming, had returned to England in 1836, ⁴³ 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 Romanism and Popular Protestantism."

This work employed me for three years, from the beginning 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: lastly, 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 Roman 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 Roman, as the Roman to the Anglican. The spirit of the Volume is not so gentle to the Church of Rome, 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 controversial, assumes as little and grants as much as possible on the points in dispute, and insists on points of agreement as well as of difference. A further and more direct reason is, that in my Volume 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 traditional action and its authorized teaching as represented by its prominent writers;--whereas the Tract is written as if discussing the differences of the

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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 Roman system. It was an attempt at commencing 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, polemical. 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 combatant 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 kindhearted 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 theological 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 the other hand, was of a directly tentative and empirical character. I wished to build up an Anglican theology out of the stones 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; yet ⁴⁴ I wrote, to use the common phrase, "under correction."

There was another motive for my publishing, of a personal

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nature, which I think I should mention. I felt then, and all along felt, that there was an intellectual cowardice in not having ⁴⁵ 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 Office." It was on ⁴⁶ the same feeling, that in the spring of 1836, at a meeting of residents on the subject of the struggle then proceeding (against a Whig appointment), (when) some one wanted us all merely to to act on college and conservative grounds (as I understood him), with as few published statements as possible:⁴⁷ 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 sickness, 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 as 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 difficulties, how to speak, or how to be silent, with due regard for the position of mind or the feelings of others. However, I may have an opportunity to say more on this subject. But to return to the "Prophetical Office."

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

"It is proposed," I say, "to offer helps towards the formation of 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 intellectually gifted. This is God's great mercy indeed, for which we must ever be thankful. Primitive doctrine has

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been explored for us in every 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, harmonize, and complete. We 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 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 unseasonable when used religiously, but we need peculiarly a sound judgment, patient thought, discrimination, a comprehensive mind, an abstinence from all private fancies and caprices and personal tastes,--in a word, Divine Wisdom."

The subject of the Volume 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;" [in the idea which it conveyed,] it was not ⁴⁸ the profession of any (particular) religion at all, and was compatible with infidelity. A Via Media was but a receding from extremes,(---)therefore I had to draw it ⁴⁹ out into a (definite) shape[,] and [a] character; before it had ⁵⁰ claims on our respect, it must first be shown

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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 say, "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 and proceed ⁵¹ to lessen it. ⁵² [There I say,] "It still remains to be tried, whether what is called Anglo-Catholicism, the religion of Andrewes, Laud, Hammond, Butler, and Wilson, is capable of being professed, acted on, and maintained on a large sphere of action, or whether it be a mere modification or transition-state of either Romanism or popular Protestantism." I trusted that some day it would prove 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 opposition to the Church of Rome. ⁵³

Other investigations which (had to be) followed (up), gave ⁵⁴ a still more tentative character [to what I wrote or got written]. 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 that ⁵⁵ 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

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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 also one and the same in such plain consequences as are⁵⁶ contained in those fundamentals or⁵⁷ 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 English 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 were Apostolic. Excepting then such exceptional 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 solido 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 but 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

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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 of all that Rome taught now, as of what Rome taught then, saving our protest. We might boldly welcome, even what we did not ourselves think right to ⁵⁸ adopt. And, when we were obliged [***proofreader's note, can somebody check this note against the original image? It seems very wrong to me or more likely I have just made a mess of it*** -- No, mistake is in original: lines should be "9, 10", not "11, 12", then it would make sense] 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 Rome 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 Rome 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 controversy with⁵⁹ her, and violence in our political measures. As to ourselves being (direct) instruments in improving the⁶⁰ belief or practice [of Rome directly], I used to say, "Look at home; let us first, or at least let us the while,⁶¹ supply our own short-comings, 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 contrary to⁶² it in the Prospectus to the Library of the Fathers; but I never concurred in⁶³ it. Indeed, I have no intention whatever of

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implying that Dr. Pusey 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 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, and ⁶⁴ 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 "fair stage and no favour," nor expect the work would be done ⁶⁵ 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 ⁶⁶. 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 intellectual difference 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 "offering suggestions towards a work, which must be uppermost in

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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 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 discussions upon the subject of Faith and Reason; these again were the tentative commencement of a grave and necessary work; it was⁶⁷ 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 fundamental 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 productions of the Movement, and appeared in numbers in the British Magazine, and was⁶⁸ written with the aim of introducing the religious sentiments, views, and customs of the first ages into the modern Church of England.

The Translation of Fleury's Church History was commenced under 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 of Mr. Rose's.⁶⁹ 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 at⁷⁰ which the portion actually translated began

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was determined by the Publisher on reasons with which 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 VII. 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 vacations, 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 projected at a later period, under circumstances which I shall have in the sequel to describe. Those beautiful compositions 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 immediate occasion of them and their⁷¹ tone (in which they were written,) could not in the exercise of the largest indulgence be said to have an Anglican direction⁷².

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 knowledge of that most wonderful and most attractive monument 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 intimate friend at my elbow said, "Take that." It was the Breviary which Hurrell had had with him at Barbados⁷³. 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

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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 Remains; yet, however judgment(s) 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 Treatise(s) of St. Athanasius was of course in no sense a tentative work⁷⁴; it belongs to another order of thought. This historicodogmatic work employed me for years. I had made preparations 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 suppose 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. We prospered 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[, though there is a sentence in it that requires some limitation]:

"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 National Church, and an object of alarm to her rulers and

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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 they 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 partynames were known to the police of Italy and to the backwoodmen 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 the crisis⁷⁵ were heard in 1838. At that time, my Bishop in a Charge made some light animadversions, but they were animadversions, on the Tracts for the Times. At once I offered to stop them. What took place on the occasion I prefer 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 allusion was made to the Tracts for the Times. Some opponents of the Tracts said that you treated them with undue indulgence.... I wrote to the Archdeacon on the subject, submitting the Tracts entirely to your Lordship's disposal. What I thought about your Charge will appear from the words I then used to him. I said, 'A Bishop's lightest word ex cathedr^a*** is heavy. His judgment on

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a book cannot be light. It is a rare occurrence.' And I offered to withdraw 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 submitting 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 apprehension which their question implied. Whether, as time went on, I should have been forced, by the necessities of the original theory of the Movement, to put on paper the speculations which I had about them, I am not able to conjecture. 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 Rome. 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 Rome." "Against Rome?" I made answer, "What do you mean by 'Rome?'" and then I proceeded to make distinctions, of which I shall now give an account.

By "Roman doctrine" might be meant one of three things: 1, the Catholic teaching of the early centuries; or 2, the formal dogmas of Rome as contained in the later

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Councils, especially the Council of Trent, and as condensed in the Creed of Pope Pius IV.; 3, the actual popular beliefs and usages sanctioned by Rome in the countries in communion with it, over and above the dogmas; and these I called "dominant errors." Now Protestants commonly thought that in all three senses, '[***shd be "]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, the⁷⁶ use of Prayers for the dead was a Catholic doctrine,--not condemned (in the Articles); 2, the⁷⁷ prison of Purgatory was a Roman dogma,--which was condemned (in them); but the infallibility of Ecumenical Councils was a Roman dogma,--not condemned; and 3, the⁷⁸ fire of Purgatory was an authorized and popular error, not a dogma, which was condemned.

Further, I considered that the difficulties, felt by the persons whom I have mentioned, mainly lay in their mistaking, 1, Catholic teaching, which was not condemned in the Articles, for Roman dogma which was condemned; and 2, Roman 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 between the Roman 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 Roman dogma; they for the most part oppose the dominant errors of Rome. 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 widening and (of) defining their meaning? The prospect was encouraging; there was no doubt at all

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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 interpretations were contradictory to ⁷⁹ 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 Roman 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 doubt not ⁸⁰ at all [that] I have made many mistakes in it;--partly, from my ignorance of the details of doctrine, as the Church of Rome holds them, but partly from my impatience to clear as large a range for the principle of doctrinal Development (waiving the question of historical fact) as was consistent with the strict Apostolicity 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 subscribed it might hold than what he must, so that my conclusions 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 Prophetical Office, as regards the Via Media that I was making only "a first approximation to a required ⁸¹ solution;"--"a series of illustrations supplying hints in ⁸² 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.

In addition, ⁸³ 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

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licence which the Articles admitted,) might be thereby encouraged to go ⁸⁴ still further than at present they found in themselves any call to do ⁸⁵.

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 authoritatively sanctioned,--would be able to take refuge under their text. This premise I denied. Not any religious doctrine at all, but a political principle, was the primary English idea [at that time] of "Popery" (at the date of the Reformation). And what was that political principle, and how could it best be kept out of ⁸⁶ England? What was the great question in the days of Henry and Elizabeth? The Supremacy;--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 Purgatory? 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 [religious] object of the Government in their imposition? merely to disown ⁸⁷ "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

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sense, but which, when worked out in ⁸⁸ the long run, would prove to be heterodox? Accordingly, there was great antecedent 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 that surmise might be true, could only be ascertained by investigation.

3. But a consideration came up at once, which 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 Articles 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 Protestantism, 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 wholesome 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 subscription to that proposition ⁸⁹ is imposed on all subscribers of the Articles. 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 Scripture.

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 followed.

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.

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7. Again, they speak of a certain truth which they are enforcing, as 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 good ⁹⁰ authority 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 of both ⁹¹ 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 received 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 and filthy spots of sin, and are a precious medicine, an inestimable jewel.

22. That mercifulness wipes out and washes away

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infirmity and weakness ⁹² 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, the ⁹³ Emperor, not without a cause indeed, but most ⁹⁴ justly.

Putting altogether aside the question how far these separate theses came under the matter to which subscription was to be made, it was quite plain, that (in the minds of) the men who wrote the Homilies, and who thus incorporated them into the Anglican system of doctrine, could not have possessed that exact ⁹⁵ discrimination between the Catholic and (the) Protestant faith, or have made that ⁹⁶ clear recognition of formal Protestant principles and tenets, or have accepted that ⁹⁷ definition of "Roman doctrine," which is received at this ⁹⁸ 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 declared at Trent and as promulgated by Pius the Fourth:--the Council of Trent was not over, nor its Decrees ⁹⁹ promulgated at the date when the Articles were drawn up ¹⁰⁰,

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so that those Articles must be aiming at something else ¹⁰¹ . 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 suffered by the high name of Rome. (The eloquent declamation of the Homilies finds its matter almost exclusively 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 [of it] themselves.

5. So much for the writers of the Articles and Homilies; -- they were witnesses, not authorities, and I used them as such; but in the next place, who were the actual authorities imposing them ? I (reasonably) considered the (authority) 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 which the Catholic Fathers and ancient Bishops have collected from that very doctrine." Here, let it be observed, an appeal is made by the Convocation imponens to the very same ancient authorities, as had been mentioned with such profound veneration by the writers of the Homilies and [of] 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 into the text of the Articles, I saw in many cases a patent fulfilment ¹⁰² of all that I had surmised as to their vagueness and indecisiveness, and that, not only on questions which

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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: They ¹⁰³ 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 necessary faith must be proved from Scripture; but do not say who is to prove it. They say, that the Church has authority in controversies; they do not say what 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 and 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 before justification. They say that men are lawfully 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 by 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 inquiry how far the Articles were tolerant of a Catholic, 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 which, as I was quite prepared to find, would require revision and modification by means of the 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 objectionable ¹⁰⁴ in the same sense in which I now consider my Anglican interpretations of Scripture to be erroneous, but in no other

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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; Protestants 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 days." 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, Wesleyans, 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 Baptism and Visitation of the Sick¹⁰⁵? Why was I to be dishonest 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:—

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"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 prudence, 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 universal ¹⁰⁶ storm of indignation with which the Tract was received (throughout the country) on its appearance, I recognize much of real religious feeling, much of honest and true principle, much of straightforward ignorant 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) in(to) the hands of the Philistines. I was quite unprepared for the outbreak, and was startled at its violence. I do not think 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 discommoned pastry-cooks, and when in every part of the country and every class of society, through every organ and occasion ¹⁰⁷ of opinion, in newspapers, in periodicals, at meetings, 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 position, who gallantly took my part, as Dr. Hook, Mr. Palmer, and Mr. Perceval : it must have been a grievous

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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 Rome: 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 the Tract. This I refused to do: I would not do so for the sake of those who were unsettled or in danger of unsettlement. 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 professors 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 was obstinate. So they let me continue 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.

Not a scrap of ¹⁰⁸ writing was given me, as a pledge of the

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performance ¹⁰⁹ of (the main article on) their side of the engagement. Parts of letters from them were read to me, without 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 every thing to rejoice in and be thankful for. I have never 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 charge."

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PART V.

HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS.

[Published as a Pamphlet, Thursday, May 19, 1864.]

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PART V.¹¹⁰

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 doing so ¹¹¹, 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, though it would be most unthankful to seem to imply that he had not all-sufficient light ¹¹² amid his darkness, yet a darkness it emphatically was? And who can (suddenly) gird himself [suddenly] to a new and anxious undertaking, which he might be able indeed to perform well, had he ¹¹³ full and calm leisure (allowed him) to look through every thing that he has ¹¹⁴ written, whether in published works or private letters? But, on the other hand, as to that calm contemplation of the past, in itself so desirable, who can afford to be leisurely and deliberate, while he practises on himself a cruel operation, the ripping up of old griefs, and the venturing again upon the "infandum dolorem" of years, in which the stars of this lower heaven were one by

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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 growing 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 annoyance had passed from my mind. In January, if I recollect aright, in order to meet the popular clamour against myself 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 publications. 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 concentration and adjustment of the statements of great Anglican authorities, and I had as much right to do so¹¹⁵, as the Evangelical [party had], and more right than the Liberal (party could show), to hold¹¹⁶ their own respective doctrines. As I spoke¹¹⁷ on occasion of Tract 90, I claimed, in behalf of who would (in the Anglican Church), that he might hold in the Anglican Church¹¹⁸ a comprecation with the Saints [with Bramhall], and the Mass all but Transubstantiation with Andrewes, or with Hooker that Transubstantiation itself is not a point

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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 paradise and) lost inward grace by the fall¹¹⁹, 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 Reformers; in the sense that, if they had a right to speak loud, I had [both] 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 had been¹²⁰ 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 my 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 he was good enough to put into my hands what he had with great appositeness written, and (that) I embodied it in[to] my Article. Every one, I think, will recognize the greater past 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 exertions. One writer said: "Opinions and views of a theology

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of a very marked and peculiar kind have been extensively adopted and strenuously upheld, and are daily gaining ground among a considerable and influential portion of the members, as well as ministers of the established Church." Another: The Movement has manifested itself "with the most rapid growth of the hot-bed of these evil days." Another: "The Via Media 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 produced within the short space of five years, I should surprise you. You would see what a task it would be to make yourself complete master of their system, even in its 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 having the effect of rendering all other distinctions 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 clergyman, will be compelled to make his choice between the two." Another: "The time has gone by, when those unfortunate and deeply regretted publications can be passed over without 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 Scotland. They obtain in Elginshire, 600 miles north of London. I found them myself in the heart of the highlands of Scotland. They are advocated in the newspaper and periodical press. They have even insinuated themselves 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 foundations of the Protestant

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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 considering 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 to¹²¹ the direction of the middle ages. "The general need," I said, "of something deeper and more attractive, than what had offered itself elsewhere, may be considered to have led to his popularity; and by means of his popularity he re-acted on his readers, stimulating their mental thirst, feeding their hopes, setting before them visions, 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 which were often heathen rather than Christian, yet after all instilled 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 Wordsworth, "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."

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Then comes the prediction of this re-action hazarded by "a sagacious observer withdrawn from the world, and surveying its movements from a distance," Mr. Alexander Knox. He had said twenty years before the date of my writing¹²²: "No Church on earth has more intrinsic excellence 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 others, whatever yet 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 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 had¹²³ become a flood."

These being the circumstances under which the Movement 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 antecedents. Dr. Hook and Mr. Churton represented the high Church dignitaries of the last century; Mr. Perceval, the tory¹²⁴ aristocracy; Mr. Keble came from a country parsonage; Mr. Palmer from Ireland; Dr. Pusey from the Universities

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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 Whately." 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 of one Sentiment, which has risen up simultaneously in many places very mysteriously."

My train of thought next led me to speak of the disciples 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, whatever 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. Now I said in the Article, which I am reviewing, 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, whatever 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 number of persons," I continued, "professing the opinions of a movement party, who talk loudly and strangely, do odd or fierce things, display themselves unnecessarily, and disgust other people; persons, too young to be wise, too generous to be cautious; too warm to be sober, or too intellectual 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 they¹²⁵ furnished quite

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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 three of the writers of the Tracts for the Times had commenced 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 Primitive 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 misgiving, so would they be the last persons from whom we should seek support.

"But if, on the other hand, there shall be any, who, in the 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 intemperance of those who dishonoured a true doctrine, provided they

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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 doctrine 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 it¹²⁶ 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 implied¹²⁷ a servile imitation of the past, but such a reproduction of it as is really young¹²⁸, 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 carrying 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 Religion. 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?] ¹²⁹" 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 compromise; but there was nothing rash in venturing to predict that "neither Puritanism nor Liberalism had any permanent inheritance within her." [I suppose I meant to say that in the present age, without the aid of Apostolical principles, the Anglican Church would, in the event, cease to exist.]

(Then I went on:) "As to Liberalism, we think the

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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 Religion 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 half-a-dozen general propositions; which escape from destroying one another, only by being diluted into truisms, who can hold the balance between opposites so skilfully as to do without fulcrum or beam, who never enunciates a truth without guarding himself against being supposed to exclude the contradictory,--who holds that Scripture is the only authority, yet that the Church is to be deferred to, that faith only justifies, yet that it does not justify without works, that grace does not depend on the sacraments, yet is not given without them, that bishops are a divine ordinance, yet those who have them not are in the same religious condition 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 No."

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This state of things, however, I said, could not last, if men were to read and think. They "will not keep [standing] 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 [grazing] 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 some Via 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 daughters members of the Church of England or of the Church of Rome?"

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, so feeling about for an available Via Media, 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 awhile, 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 necessary for my

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narrative, as plans of buildings and homesteads are often found to be in the proceedings of our law courts.

I have said already that, though the object of the Movement 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 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, not of convictions, but of proofs¹³⁰.

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 communion 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 Naples. 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 Rome, that she dared not commit herself by formal decree, to what nevertheless she sanctioned and

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allowed. Accordingly, in my Prophetical Office, I view as simply separate ideas, Rome quiescent, and Rome 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 Rome, I drew a parallel distinction between Anglicanism quiescent, and Anglicanism in action. In its formal creed Anglicanism was not at a great distance from Rome: far otherwise, when viewed in its insular spirit, the traditions of its establishment, its historical characteristics, its controversial rancour, and its private judgment. I disavowed and condemned those excesses, and called them "Protestantism" or "Ultra-Protestantism:" I wished to find a parallel disclaimer, on the part of Roman controversialists, 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 Roman corruption on the other. I could not get further than this; with this result I was forced to content myself.

These then were the parties in the controversy :- the Anglican Via Media and the popular religion of Rome. And next, as to the issue, to which the controversy between them was to be brought, it was this:-- the Anglican disputant took his stand upon Antiquity or Apostolicity, the Roman upon Catholicity. The Anglican said to the Roman: "There is but One Faith, the Ancient, and you have not kept to it;" the Roman 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 Roman objected: "You do not communicate with any one Church besides your own and its offshoots, and you have discarded principles, 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 Rome had divided these notes

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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 considered¹³¹ the note of Catholicity really to belong to Rome, to the disparagement of the Anglican Church; but (I considered) that the special point or plea of Rome 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 apostolic. 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 unity might be, on the other hand¹³², (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 perversely 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, further 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

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Anglican disputant, and, as he referred to St. Ignatius in proof that he himself was a true Catholic, in spite of being separated from Rome, so he triumphantly referred to the Treatise of Vincentius 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 answer to¹³³ 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." Now it will be found, that, in the discussion which it contains, 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 imprudent! " 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 offence; it might be from imprudence, 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 deal of shallowness among our own friends, and that they undervalued the strength of the argument in behalf of Rome, and that they ought to be roused to a more exact apprehension of the

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position of the controversy. 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 their real weight duly acknowledged¹³⁴. 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 inconsiderable 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 sequel. And now to return to the Home Thoughts 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 Rome is corrupt. What then? to cut off a limb is a strange way of saving it from the influence of some constitutional ailment. Indigestion may cause cramp in the extremities; yet we spare our poor feet

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notwithstanding. Surely there is such a religious fact as the existence of a great Catholic body, union with which is a Christian privilege and duty. Now, 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. Purity of faith is more precious to the Christian than unity itself. If Rome has erred grievously in doctrine, then it is a duty to separate even from Rome."

His friend, who takes the Roman side of the argument, refers to the image of the Vine and its branches, which is found, I think, in St. Cyprian, as if a branch cut from the Catholic Vine must necessarily die. Also he quotes a passage from St. Augustine in controversy with the Donatists 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 argument 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, "Now, I am only contending for the fact, that the communion of Rome constitutes the main body of the Church Catholic, and that we are split off from it, and in the condition of the Donatists."

The other replies, by denying the fact that the present Roman communion is like St. Augustine's Catholic Church, inasmuch as there are to¹³⁵ 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 degradation 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,

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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]¹³⁶ principle [of Antiquity]¹³⁷ 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 position of the Pope, whether as the centre of unity, or as the source of jurisdiction, did not come into my 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 divino, while I was in the Anglican Church;--not that I saw any difficulty in the doctrine; not that, together¹³⁸ with the history of St. Leo, of which 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. [I said that] the peculiarity of the Anglican theology was this,--that it "supposed the Truth to be entirely objective and detached, not" (as the Roman¹³⁹ ) "lying 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

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on the Cross or at the Resurrection, with the Church close by, but in the background."

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."

And still more strongly(,) in July, 1841:

"If the Note of schism, on the one hand, lies against England, an antagonist disgrace lies upon Rome, the Note of idolatry. Let us not be mistaken here; we are neither accusing Rome 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 providential direction given them, how to comport themselves towards the Church 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 observe¹⁴⁰ both in Home Thoughts Abroad, and in the Article of the British Critic which I have analyzed above. But this

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circumstance, 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 Volume 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 anticipating a line of thought into which I was, in the event, almost obliged to take refuge: "After all," I say, "the Church is ever invisible in its day, and faith only apprehends it." What was this, but to give up the Notes of a visible Church altogether, whether the Catholic Note or the Apostolic'?

The Long Vacation of 1839 began early. There had been a great many visitors to Oxford from Easter to Commemoration; and Dr. Pusey and myself¹⁴¹ 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 never¹⁴² 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 Vacation, 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 historyof the Monophysites. 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 mentioning 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,

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Christendom of the sixteenth and the nineteenth centuries 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 senex, as (I think) Petavius calls him, 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 Anglicans 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 fearfully; 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 sixteenth. 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 comprehensions, 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,

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and turning devil's advocate against the much-enduring 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 aught but fall at their feet in love and in worship, whose image was continually 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 Bishop¹⁴³ 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 I have instanced above¹⁴⁴. 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 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 observation. "Securus judicat orbis terrarum." He repeated these words again and again, and, when he was gone, they kept ringing in my ears. "Securus judicat orbis terrarum;" they were words which went beyond the occasion of the Donatists: they applied to that of the Monophysites. They gave a cogency to the Article,

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which had escaped me at first. They decided ecclesiastical questions on a simpler rule than that of Antiquity; nay, St. Augustine was one of the prime oracles of Antiquity; here then Antiquity was deciding against itself. What a light was 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 "Tolle, lege,—Tolle, 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 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 Rome will be found right after all;"

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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:—

"O 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 disobedient 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, who 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 sincerely 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 conclusions, 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 say, 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 memorandum under the date of September 7, 1829, in which I speak

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of myself, as "now in my rooms in Oriel College, slowly 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, which 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 myself, 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 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 my prima 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 more 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 passage,--the principle of dogma, the sacramental system, and anti-Romanism. Of these three, the first two were better secured in Rome than in the

33 more] longer

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 Gradus ad Parnassum,such titles, under the word "Papa," as " Christi Vicarius," " sacer interpres," and " sceptra gerens," and substituted epithets so vile that I cannot bring myself to write them down here. The effect of this early 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. In the first part of Home Thoughts Abroad, written in that year, after speaking of Rome as " undeniably the most exalted Church in the whole world," and manifesting, " in all the truth and beauty of the Spirit, that side of high mental excellence, which Pagan Rome attempted but could not realize,--high-mindedness, majesty, and the calm

23 For the matter between [ ], pp. 216-219, the following was substituted in 1865: 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 Vicar 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,--(Then, in 1865, followed the matter after the square bracket on p. 219, line 2, "I could not have thrown off,--" etc.)

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consciousness of power,"--I proceed to say, " Alas! . . . the old spirit has revived, and the monster of Daniel's vision, untamed by its former judgments, has seized upon Christianity as the new instrument of its impieties, and awaits a second and final woe from God's hand. Surely the doctrine of the Genius Loci is not without foundation, and explains to us how the blessing or the curse attaches to cities and countries, not to generations. Michael is represented [in the book of Daniel] as opposed to the Prince of the kingdom of Persia. Old Rome is still alive. The Sorceress upon the Seven Hills, in the book of Revelation, is not the Church of Rome, but Rome itself, the bad spirit, which, in its former shape, was the animating spirit of the Fourth Monarchy." Then I refer to St. Malachi's Prophecy which "makes a like distinction between the City and the Church of Rome. 'In the last persecution,' it says, 'of the Holy Roman Church, Peter of Rome shall be on the throne, who shall feed his flock in many tribulations. When these are past, the City upon the Seven Hills shall be destroyed, and the awful Judge shall judge the people.'" Then I append my moral. " I deny that the distinction is unmeaning; Is it nothing to be able to look on our Mother, to whom we owe the blessing of Christianity, with affection instead of hatred? with pity indeed, aye, and fear, but not with horror? Is it nothing to rescue her from the hard names, which interpreters of prophecy have put upon her, as an idolatress and an enemy of God, when she is deceived rather than a deceiver? Nothing to be able to account her priests as ordained of God, and anointed for their spiritual functions by the Holy Spirit, instead of considering her communion the bond of Satan ? " This was my first advance in rescuing, on an intelligible, intellectual basis, the Roman Church from the designation of Antichrist; it was not the Church, but the old dethroned Pagan monster, still living in the ruined city, that was Antichrist.

In a Tract in 1838, I profess to give the opinions of the Fathers on the subject, and the conclusions to which I come, are still less violent against the Roman Church, though on the same basis as before. I say that the local

9 These are the Author's [ ]

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Christian Church of Rome has been the means of shielding the pagan city from the fulness of those judgments, which are due to it; and that, in consequence of this, though Babylon has been utterly swept from the earth, Rome remains to this day. The reason seemed to be simply this, that, when the barbarians came down, God had a people in that city. Babylon was a mere prison of the Church; Rome had received her as a guest. "That vengeance has never fallen: it is still suspended; nor can reason be given why Rome has not fallen under the rule of God's general dealings with His rebellious creatures, except that a Christian Church is still in that city, sanctifying it, interceding for it, saving it." I add in a note, "No opinion, one way or the other, is here expressed as to the question, how far, as the local Church has saved Rome, so Rome has corrupted the local Church; or whether the local Church in consequence, or again whether other Churches elsewhere, may or may not be types of Antichrist." I quote all this in order to show how Bishop Newton was still upon my mind even in 1838; and how I was feeling after some other interpretation of prophecy instead of his, and not without a good deal of hesitation.

However, I have found notes written in March, 1839, which anticipate my Article in the British Critic of October, 1840, in which I contended that the Churches of Rome and England were both one, and also the one true Church, for the very reason that they had both been stigmatized by the name of Antichrist, proving my point from the text, "If they have called the Master of the House Beelzebub, how much more them of His household," and quoting largely from Puritans and Independents to show that, in their mouths, the Anglican Church is Antichrist and Antichristian as well as the Roman. I urged in that article that the calumny of being Antichrist is almost "one of the notes of the true Church;" and that "there is no medium between a Vice-Christ and Anti-Christ;" for "it is not the acts that make the difference between them, but the authority for those acts." This of course was a new mode of viewing the question; but we cannot unmake ourselves or change our habits in a moment. It is quite clear, that, if I dared not commit myself in 1838, to the

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belief that the Church of Rome was not a type of Antichrist,] I could not have thrown off(,--) the unreasoning prejudice and suspicion, which I cherished about her[, for some time after,] at least by fits and starts, in spite of the conviction 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 the inconsistencies then, to the ambition and intrigue, to the sophistries [of Rome] (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 Roman Church herself or her formal doctrines. I was very averse to speak(ing) against doctrines, which might possibly turn out to be true, though at the time I had 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 things 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 0ffice. 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

4 the] this 10 (twice), 11 the] her three times

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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 wished 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 moving towards it, and a better " Preservative against Popery," than the three volumes of folio, in which, I think, that prophylactic is to be found. However, on occasions which demanded it, I felt it a duty to give out plainly all that I thought, though I did not like to do so. One such instance occurred, when 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 Rome does seem to me, as a popular 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 recollected Hurrell Froude'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 uncharitable to an excess. How mistaken we may ourselves be, on many points that are only gradually opening on us ! "

Instead then of speaking of errors in doctrine, I was driven, by my state of mind, to insist upon the political conduct, the controversial bearing, and the social methods and manifestations of Rome. And here I found a matter close at hand, which affected me most sensibly too, because

6 wished] began to wish 13 it] Rome 14 of folio] in folio 19 twice letter] Letter 37 close at] ready to my

37 most sensibly too, because it was before my eyes] the more sensibly for the reason that it lay at our very doors

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it was before my eyes. I can hardly describe too strongly my feeling upon it. I had an unspeakable 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 Rome, I considered I had a fulfillment before my eyes how the Court of Rome played fast and loose, and fulfilled the bad points which I had seen 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 Anglicans to set about praying for Unity. I myself then, or soon after, drew up such prayers; it 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 members of the Roman Church in England 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, whither Mr. Palmer of Magdalen [brought him], 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 apostate " 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 touching, and raises a variety of indescribable emotions. < . . id="iii.p27.6"> May their prayers return abundantly into their own bosoms! Why then do I not meet you in a manner conformable with these first feelings? For this single reason, if I may say

9 fulfilled the bad points] justified the serious charges 17 then], at that time 18 it] their desirableness 20 members of the Roman Church in England] Catholic body in these islands 23 rooms, whither] rooms with 34 bosoms!] bosoms . . . ,

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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 understand, how Christians, like yourselves, with the clear view you have that a warfare is ever waging in the world between good and evil, should, in the present state of England, 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 revealed 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, scoffers, 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 hearts,--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 England, 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 connected it with my own ideas of the usual conduct of her advocates and instru-

21, 22 These are the, Author's [] 37 connected it with] viewed what happened to myself in the light of 38 usual] traditionary

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ments. I was very stern upon any interference in our Oxford matters on the part of charitable Catholics, and on any attempt 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 determined upon taking my time." Since I have been a Catholic, people have sometimes accused me of backwardness 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, plausible 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 gipseys make up to truant boys, holding out tales for the nursery; and pretty pictures, and gilt gingerbread, and physic concealed in jam, and sugar-plums for good children. Who can but feel shame when the religion of Ximenes, Borromeo, and Pascal, is so overlaid ? Who can but feel sorrow, when its devout and earnest defenders so mistake its genius and its capabilities ? We Englishmen like manliness, openness, consistency, truth. Rome will never gain on us, till she learns these virtues, and uses them; and then she may gain us, but it will be by ceasing to be what we now mean by Rome, by having a right, not to 'have dominion. over our faith,' but to gain and possess our affections in the bonds of the gospel. Till she ceases to be what she practically is, a union is impossible between her and England; but, if she does reform, (and

1 upon] in the case of 2-3 on any] of any 25 gipseys] gipsies 34 may] may

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who can presume to say that so large a part of Christendom 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 loving 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 condemnation of that class of ¹⁴⁵ controversialists (of that religious body), to which I myself now belong.

I have thus put together, as well as I could ¹⁴⁶, 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, bringing me into collision ¹⁴⁷ both with my Bishop and also with the (authorities of the) University [authorities]; and this drew my attention at once to the state of [what would be considered] 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

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commonly included in it; at that time I thought little of such an evil, but the new thoughts ¹⁴⁸, 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 view ¹⁴⁹, in which 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 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 Notes 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 Roman 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 Catholicity ; but, if not (this),

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we had others. My first business then, was to examine this question carefully, and see, if ¹⁵⁰ a great deal could not be said after all for the Anglican Church, in spite of its acknowledged short-comings. 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] ¹⁵¹; and, I say what of course I would only say to such as yourself, it made me for a while very uncomfortable in my own. mind. The great speciousness of his argument is one of the things which have made me despond so much," that is, as to ¹⁵² its effect upon others.

But, secondly, the great stumbling-block lay in the 39 Articles. It was urged that here was a positive Note against Anglicanism:—Anglicanism claimed to hold that the Church of England was nothing else than a continuation in this country, (as the Church of Rome 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; it did in substance, in a true sense. Man had done his worst to disfigure, to mutilate, the 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 justification, 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

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engaged in an experimentum crucis. 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, and was not ¹⁵³ 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 it ¹⁵⁴; 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 Rome, so much the better."

This then was the second work to which I set myself; though when I got to Littlemore, other things came in the way of ¹⁵⁵ accomplishing it at the moment. I had in mind to remove all such obstacles as were ¹⁵⁶ in the way of holding the Apostolic and Catholic character of the Anglican 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, explanatory 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 writers their true interpretation, I would make the belief of the 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 wording will admit or any ambiguity requires it) in the one Catholic sense."

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A third measure which I distinctly contemplated, was the resignation of St. Mary's, whatever became of the question of the (39) Articles; 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 Poor Schools ¹⁵⁷, and practising the choir. At the same time, I contemplated ¹⁵⁸ 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 then ¹⁵⁹ of ever leaving the Anglican Church. That I [also] contemplated even the further step of giving up St. Mary's itself as early as 1839, appears from a letter which I wrote in October, 1840, to the friend ¹⁶⁰ 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. Mary's, but I am no fit 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 my 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 position at St. Mary's I do exert a considerable influence on the University, whether on Undergraduates or Graduates. It seems, then, an the whole that I am using St. Mary's, to the neglect of its direct duties, for objects not belonging

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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 University. 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, 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 undermine 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 religion, in the exercise of a sacred office, yet without a commission, (and) against the wish of their guides and governors?

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"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, 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 symptoms of), there be a movement in the English Roman Catholics to break the alliance of O'Connell and of Exeter Hall, strong temptations 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 Romanism 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?

"Nor 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 effect 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 A. B. ¹⁶¹ 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

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to him lately, and he did not reverse his opinion, only expressed great reluctance to believe it must be so."

My friend's ¹⁶² judgment was in favour of my retaining my 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] ¹⁶³ 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 circumstances, 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 the whole English Church, as a body(,) to Rome, 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 judgment."

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 really the "hoisting of the engineer with his own petar." And this was the result. I continue:—

"2. Say, that I move sympathies for Rome: in the same sense does Hooker, Taylor, Bull, &c. Their

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arguments may be against Rome, but the sympathies they raise must be towards Rome, 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 further; I may raise sympathies more; 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 Vicar of St. Mary's, be in my difficulty?"—Here it may be said ¹⁶⁴, 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 it ¹⁶⁵.

"3. Rationalism is the great evil of the day. 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] ¹⁶⁶, which I oppose, leads to infidelity, than that which I recommend, 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 C. D.'s ¹⁶⁷ 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 I was not confident about my permanent adhesion to the Anglican creed; but I was in no actual perplexity or trouble of mind. Nor did) The immense commotion consequent upon the publication of the Tract [did not] unsettle me again; for I (fancied I) had weathered the storm (, as far as the Bishops were concerned): the

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Tract had not been condemned: that was the great point; I ¹⁶⁸ made much of it.

To illustrate my feelings during this trial, I will make extracts from my letters to a friend ¹⁶⁹, which have come into my possession. [The dates are respectively March 25, April 1, and May 9.]

(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 ought 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.")

1. ¹⁷⁰ (March 25. —) "I do trust I shall make no false step, and hope my friends will pray for me to this effect. If, as you say, a destiny hangs over us, a single false step may ruin all. I am very well and comfortable; but we are not yet out of the wood."

2. ¹⁷¹ (April 1.—) "The Bishop sent me word on Sunday to write a letter ¹⁷² to him 'instanter.' So I wrote it on Monday: on Tuesday it passed through the press: on Wednesday it was out: and to-day [Thursday] ¹⁷³ 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 ¹⁷⁴ 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 take out on my side my snubbing's worth. 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 exceedingly great gratification to me; and it is confirmed, I am thankful to say, by the opinion of others. The Bishop

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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 sub stantial 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.")

3. ¹⁷⁵ (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."

[And to my friend, Mr. Bowden, under date of 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 oughtto 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."]

Upon (this) occasion [of Tract 90] several Catholics wrote to me; I answered one of my correspondents thus ¹⁷⁶:—

"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 suffer thereby. My letter to my Bishop has, I trust, had the effect of bringing the preponderating authority 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 principle has been conceded by us, or condemned by authority. The Bishop has but said that a certain Tract is

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'objectionable,' no reason being stated. I have no intention whatever of yielding any one point which 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 determined to put aside all controversy, and I set myself down to my translation of St. Athanasius; but, between July 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 shape, which I had found in the Monophysite. 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 in ¹⁷⁷ 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 which I published fourteen years ago ¹⁷⁸.

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 "understanding;" that, on which I had acted on occasion ¹⁷⁹ 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 charges at me, for three whole years. I recognized it as

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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 Rome take place in consequence of the Traots 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 contain, set themselves to oppose them. Whatever be the influence of the Tracts, great or small, they may become just as powerful for Rome, 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 Rome."

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

3. As if all this were not enough, there 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

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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. [I suppose that] 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 Canterbury 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 experiment; it was too far from Prussia to awaken the susceptibilities 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 Jerusalem 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 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 helping the Jews to rebuild their Temple there, or with becoming the august protectors of Nestorians, Monophysites, 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

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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 congregations 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, they 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 their errors or regard to the due ¹⁸⁰ 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 achismatical Oriental bodies, by means of the influence of England. This was the third blow, which finally shattered my faith in the Anglican Church. That Church was not only forbidding any sympathy 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 a friend ¹⁸¹:—"We have not a single Anglican in Jerusalem, so we are sending a Bishop to make a communion, not to govern our own

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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 political advantages will be so great, from the influence of England, that there is no doubt they will come. They are to sign the Confession of Augsburg, and there is nothing to show that they hold the doctrine of Baptismal Regeneration.

"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 doing most grave work, of which we cannot see the end."

I did make a solemn Protest, and sent it to the Archbishop 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 specially concern your Lordship; yet, after a great deal of anxious thought, I lay before you the. enclosed 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 we 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,

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that our communion is not a branch of the one ¹⁸² Church, I foresee with much grief, will be tempted to look out for that Church elsewhere.

"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.

"I earnestly hope 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,

"I am, &c."

PROTEST.

"Whereas the Church of England has a claim on the allegiance of Catholc 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 [advancing it]:

"And whereas to admit maintainers of heresy to communion, 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 spiritual 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

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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 of such congregations, and with any 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 Vicar of St. Mary the Virgin'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 Newman.

"November 11, 1841."

Looking back two years afterwards on the abovementioned and other acts, on the part of Anglican Ecclesiastical authorities, I observe(d): "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 Rulers preserved the quiescence of former years; but it is the corroboration of a present, living, and energetic heterodoxy, which realizes and makes them practical; it has been the recent speeches and acts of authorities, who had so 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.

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PART VI.

HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS.

Published as a Pamphlet, Thursday, May 26, 1864.]

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PART VI. ¹⁸³

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 far 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, except for definite particulars, positive or negative). Letters of mine to friends (since dead) have come to me ¹⁸⁴ [since their deaths]; others have been kindly lent me for the occasion; and I have some drafts of letters ¹⁸⁵, and (some) notes of my own ¹⁸⁶, though I have no strictly personal or continuous memoranda 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

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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 her ¹⁸⁷, 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 conditions, Church with Church; 8. I called Littlemore my Torres Vedras, 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 disposed 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, [while I held St. Mary's,] 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, so during my course of reading in the summer of 1839, I began to look about, as I have said, for some ground which might supply a controversial basis for my need. The difficulty in question had affected my view both of Antiquity and Catholicity; 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

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recognized as a portion of the dogmatic foundation of the Church ¹⁸⁸, 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 Rome (and her faith) without using arguments prejudicial to those great doctrines concerning 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; but ¹⁸⁹ I did not do so all at once, but as I became more and more convinced of the state of the case. The Jerusalem Bishopric was the ultimate condemnation of the old theory of the Via 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 controversy, 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 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 found 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 was ¹⁹⁰ not inconsistent with my saying (above) that, at this time, I had no thought of

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leaving that ¹⁹¹ 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 Rome; 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 schismatical, they could not resist us if the Anglican communion had but that one note of the Church upon it,—sanctity. The Church of the day [4th century] ¹⁹² could not resist Meletius; his enemies were fairly overcome by him, by his meekness and holiness, which melted the most jealous of them." And I continue, "We are almost content to say to Romanists, account us not yet as a branch of the Catholic Church, ao though we be a branch, till we are like a branch, provided that when we do become like a branch, then you consent to acknowledge us," &c. And so I was led on in the Article to that sharp attack on English Catholics for their shortcomings as regards this Note, a good portion of which I have already quoted in another place. It is there that I speak of the great scandal which I took at their political, social, and controversial bearing; and this was a second reason why I fell back upon the Note of Sanctity, because

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it took me away from the necessity of making any attack upon the doctrines of the Roman Church, nay, from the consideration of her popular beliefs, and brought me upon a ground on which I felt I could not make a mistake; for what is a higher guide for us in speculation and in practice, than that conscience of right and wrong, of truth and falsehood, those sentiments of what is decorous, consistent, and noble, which our Creator has made a part of our original nature? Therefore I felt I could not be wrong in attacking what I fancied was a fact,—the unscrupulousness, the deceit, and the intriguing spirit of the agents and representatives of Rome.

This reference to Holiness as the true test of a Church was steadily kept in view in what I wrote in connexion with Tract 90. I say in its Introduction, "The writer can never be party to forcing the opinions or projects of one school upon another; religious changes should be the act of the 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 the whole body itself; every change in religion" must be "attended by deep repent ance; 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 differences is to begin at the end. Political reconciliations are but outward and hollow, and fallacious. And till Roman Catholics renounce political efforts, and manifest 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

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the direct common sense and practical habits of an Englishman. However, with (the) events consequent upon Tract 90, I sunk my 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 (1) ? " 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 preached at St. Mary's in December of that year. Hitherto I had not introduced the exciting topics of the day into the Pulpit (2) ; 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 recommendation 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 Footnotes in 1866. (' Matt. xxiv. 15. (2) Vide Note C. Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence.)

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(FROM 1841 TO 1845. ) 251

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 Revealed Dispensation, and an intellectual position in the controversy, and the dignity of a great principle, for unsettled minds to take and use,(-a principle) which might teach them to recognize their own consistency, and to be reconciled to themselves, and which might absorb [into itself] and dry up a multitude of their grudgings, discontents, misgivings, and questionings, and lead the way 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 recognized 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 ; whether(, under the circumstances,) a man could assume or exercise ministerial functions [under the circumstances], or not, might not clearly appear, though it must be remembered that England had the Apostolic Priesthood, 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

29-31 appear, though . . . priesthood at all;) appear (though . . . at all),

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252 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS displayed before them, to break off from their own people, and to submit themselves to Judah (1).

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, were 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 a Magazine 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.

" Nov. 8, 1845. I do not think, at all more than I did, that the Anglican principles which I advocated at the date

(1) As I am not writing controversially, I will only here remark upon this argument, that there is a great difference between a command, which implies physical(, material, and political) conditions, and one which is moral. To go to Jerusalem was a matter of the body, not of the soul.

2 (and footnote)']'

25 a Magazine] the Christian Observer, Mr. Wilkes, note, line 3 implies] presupposes

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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 sufficient guarantee of Sacramental Grace, without¹⁹³ union with the Christian Church throughout the world. I think these still the firmest, strongest ground against Rome--that is, if they can be held ([as truths or facts]).¹⁹⁴ 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 unsoundness, 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."

¹⁹⁵

The Via Media then disappeared for ever, and a [new] 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],¹⁹⁶ and yet I am (I trust) quite clear about my duty to remain where I am; 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

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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, stultified my former principles, and substituted, as they would consider, a sort of methodistic self-contemplation, especially abhorrent both to my nature and to my past 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 annoyed, when I would view¹⁹⁷ 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 simply 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 tell how sad your account of Moberly has made me. His view of the sinfulness of the decrees of Trent is as much against union of Churches 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 which they are? I suppose Transubstantiation is one. A. B.,¹⁹⁸ though of course he would not like to have it repeated (4),¹⁹⁹ does not scruple at that. I have not my mind clear. Moberly must recollect that Palmer ([of Worcester])²⁰⁰ 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. Individuals 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. Now, 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 we not leave them meanwhile to the will of Providence? I cannot believe this work has been of man; God has a right to His own work, to do what He will with it. May we not try to leave it in His hands, and be content?

"If you learn any thing about Barter, which leads you to think that I can relieve 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 any Sacrifice in the Eucharist. 2. The Real Presence. 3. That there is a grace in Ordination 2. ^{201 202}

"Are we quite sure that the Bishops will not be drawing 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

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Destitute [Littlemore]. ²⁰³ 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 disunion 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 contemplate; 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 sense. Yet, he would say, it was not right to contemplate such things.

"Again, our case is [diverging] ²⁰⁴ 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 spare than a Churchman in the 17th century, questions 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 congregations 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 what we think right day by day? shall we not be

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sure to go wrong, if we attempt to trace by anticipation the course of divine Providence?

"Has not all our misery, 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, ever 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 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 differences in prospect, when we agree in the present.

"P.S. I think, when friends [i. e. the extreme party] ²⁰⁵ get over their first unsettlement 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] ²⁰⁶ "are startled" [i. e. at my Protest, &c. &c.]; ²⁰⁷ "yet they should recollect that the more implicit the reverence one pays to a Bishop, the more keen will be one's perception of heresy in him. The cord is binding and compelling, till it snaps.

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"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 protestors. 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.

"St. Stephen's [(Day) December 26]. ²⁰⁸ How I 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 Volume 6 ([of Parochial Sermons]) ²⁰⁹, and merely 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 feelings: those who are not, he leaves in God's hand to bring them to a better mind in His own time.' What do you say to the logic, sentiment, and propriety of this?"

There was one very ²¹⁰ old friend, at a distance from Oxford, (Archdeacon Robert I. Wilberforce,) [afterwards a Catholic, now dead some years, who] 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

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Anglicanism now.) He answered me thus, under date of Jan. 29, 1842: "I don't think that I ever was so shocked by any communication, 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 ourselves from the communion of the Church Universal. . . 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 indicate." ²¹¹

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 influence of others, who had not their own claims upon me, younger men, and of a cast of mind (in no small degree) uncongenial to my own. A new school of thought was rising, as is usual in such movements, ²¹² 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. ²¹³ 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 typical Oxford man, and, as far as I recollect, 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

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rapidly formed and increased, in and out of Oxford, and, as it so happened, contemporaneously with that very summer, when I received so serious a blow to my ecclesiastical views from the study of the Monophysite controversy. 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 undertake 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 difficulties, 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, [excepting two or three men,] 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 of their path, ²¹⁴ in spite of my old friends, in spite of my old life-long prejudices. In spite of my ingrained fears of Rome, and the decision of my reason

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and conscience against her usages, in spite of my affection for Oxford and Oriel, yet I had a secret longing love of Rome the author ²¹⁵ of English Christianity, and I had a true devotion 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 tile danger of being swayed (in religious inquiry) by our sympathy rather than (by) our reason [in religious inquiry]. 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; nay, 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 mysteriousness, shuffling, and underhand dealing from the majority. ²¹⁶

Now I will say here frankly, 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 well enough, 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 ever 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 unsettled, did I ever attempt to gain any one over to myself or to my

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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 understandings, and inferences, and hearsay, and surmises. Accordingly, I shall not make the attempt, for, in doing so, I should be dealing blows in the air; what I shall attempt is to state what I know of myself and what I recollect, and leave its application to others. ²¹⁷

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 further 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 confraternities, particular devotions, reverence for the Blessed Virgin, prayers for the dead, beautiful churches, rich ²¹⁸ 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 appropriated them, and boasted of them, by reason of our having let them slip 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 communion 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 feelings which may be especially called Catholic. The question then is, whether we shall give them up to the Roman Church or claim them

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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 framing a sort ²¹⁹ 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 ²²⁰ on the one hand, and towards prayers for the dead on the other. In a memorandum of the year 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 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 Roman Church. ²²¹ Of course I did not like to confess this; and, when interrogated, was in consequence in perplexity. The prime instance of this was the appeal to Antiquity; St. Leo had overset, in my own judgment, its force in ²²² 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

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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 difference 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 I ²²³ got simply confused, by the very clearness ²²⁴ of the logic which was administered to me, and thus (I) gave my sanction to conclusions which really 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 touched ²²⁵ them to the day of their death, had they not been made to eat ²²⁶ them. And then I felt altogether 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 Rome, could be annihilated, even though I had had ²²⁷

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some far clearer view than I then had, that Rome was my ultimate 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 provocation, and, though I do not think I ever showed it, made me somewhat indifferent how I met them, and perhaps led me, as a means of relieving my impatience, to be mysterious or irrelevant, or to give in because I could not reply. ²²⁸ And a greater trouble still than these logical mazes, was the introduction of logic into every subject whatever, so far, that is, as it 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 devotion, is considered as if chiefly intended to feed syllogisms. Now, in saying all this, I am saying nothing against the deep piety and earnestness which were characteristics of this second phase of the Movement, in which I have taken ²²⁹ 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, in ²³⁰ a sort of easiness ²³¹ [, for what I know] 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 is what I said ²³² 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 bearings; 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.

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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 it about; yet I still feel obliged to think the Tract necessary.(")

["Dr. Pusey has shown me your Lordship's letters to him. I am most desirous of saying in print any thing which I can honestly say to remove false impressions created by the Tract."]

The second is part of ²³³the notes of a letter (which I) sent to Dr. Pusey in the next year:

"October 16, 1842. As to my being entirely with A. B.,²³⁴ I do not know the limits of my own opinions. If A. B. says that this or that is a development from what I have said, I cannot say Yes or No. It is plausible, it may be true. Of course the fact that the Roman Church has 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."²³⁵

There was another source of the perplexity with which at this time I was encompassed, and of the reserve and mysteriousness, of which it gave²³⁶ 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 up there to say my prayers; it was hard to have to tell 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;

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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, 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 ?²³⁷ 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, who note down whether I go in at a back door or at the front, and who the men are who happen to call on me in the afternoon? Cowards! if I advanced one step, you would run away; it is not you that I fear: " Di me terrent, et Jupiter hostis." It is because the Bishops still go on charging against me, though I have quite given up: it is that secret misgiving 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 [heavy] feeling which pierced me, and, I think, these are the very words that I usedthat I used] 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 Divinity dived into the hidden recesses of that private tenement 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 other- wise, 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-

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self and your friends which I have seen in the public journals have been, within my own knowledge, false and calumnious, that I am not apt to pay much attention to what is asserted with respect to you in the newspapers.

"In a" [newspaper] These are the Author's [ ]. In 1865 the a before newspaper was placed within the [ ]."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 believed 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."A space was left after this line in 1864, filled up in 1865 by the short line 32 here given between ( ).

(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 restless- ness of the public mind should oblige you to require an explanation of me.

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"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 authority; and with the intention 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 ecclesiastical politics. I turned myself at once to the preparation 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 different? suppose a person in prospect of marriage; would he like the subject discussed in newspapers, and parties, circumstances, &c., &c., publicly demanded of him, at the penalty of being accused of craft and duplicity?

"The resolution I speak of has been taken with reference 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 personal, and without regard to the blame or approbation

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of man. And being a resolution of years, and one to which I feel God has called me, and in which I am violating 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 ecclesiastical 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 conviction 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 sympathies 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 whole of Littlemore is double of it. It has been very much 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]²³⁸ 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'

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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 Romanist 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 unmannerly and unfeeling curiosity."²³⁹

One calumny there was which the Bishop did not believe, 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 did not believe, and for which they got²⁴⁰ 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 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 portion 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 laymen, or in the place of laymen. I kept some of them back for several years from being received into the Catholic Church. Even when I had given up my living, I was still

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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 called a Roman Catholic, they will say, 'Then after all Rornanism 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 imagination. 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 following its divines, (I am speaking from facts,) as suddenly 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.")

1.²⁴¹ 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 unconsciously near Rome, and whose despairabout our Church would at

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once develope into a state of conscious approximation, or a quasi-resolution to go over; 2. those who feel they can with a safe conscience remain with us while they are allowed to testify 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.

("Things are very serious here; but I should not like you to say so, as it might do no good. The Authorities find, that, by the Statutes, they have more than military 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 suspend 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.")

2.²⁴² "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 attempting 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,

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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."

(In 1865 the paragraph on p. 275 numbered 5 was inserted here, the numeral of course remaining unaltered.)

3.²⁴³ "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 know me at all, you would think differently of me, whatever you thought of my opinions. Two years since, I got your son to tell you my intention of resigning St. Mary's, before I made it public, thinking you ought to know it. When you expressed 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 delicacy 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 recommend him to go to A. B. (his home) at once. I am very sorry to part with him."

4.²⁴⁴ The following letter is addressed to a Catholic Prelate,²⁴⁵ 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 possibly 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 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

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be called controversial rivalry or desire of getting the better, or fear lest the world should think I had got the worst²⁴⁶, 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 overcome 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."²⁴⁷

5. "August 30, 1843. A. B. has suddenly conformed to the Church of Rome. He was away for three weeks. I suppose I must say in my defence, that he promised me distinctly to remain in our Church three years, before I received him here."

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 to have the reversion²⁴⁸ of 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 delicacy he hesitated, I added "my direct and indignant contradiction." "Whoever is the author of it, ("I continued to the Editor,") no correspondence or intercourse of any kind, direct or indirect, has passed [,"I continued to the Editor,"] between Mr. S. and myself, since his conforming to the Church of Rome, except my formally and merely acknowledging the receipt of his letter, in which he informed

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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 perhaps the most influential man in reality on the bench, evidently believes it to be the truth." (Upon this) Dr. Pusey [too] wrote for me ²⁴⁹ 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 connexion 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" [close correspondence and fully aware , &c.] ²⁵⁰ "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. has been in your Lordship's diocese, I have seen him in common ²⁵¹ 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

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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 my letter which he had misapprehended. I cannot recollect any other correspondence between us.

"2. As to my knowledge of his opinions 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 pressing upon him, was that of the Pope's supremacy. He professed to be searching Antiquity whether the see of Rome had formally²⁵² 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]²⁵³ a question, ... and to put it altogether aside ... . It is hard that I am put upon 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 a civil letter, and sent my own letter to his original informant, 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. T closed the correspondence with the following Letter to the Bishop :-

"I hope your Lordship will believe me when I say, that statements about me, equally incorrect with that which has come to your Lordship's ears, are from time to time

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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 communion 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 7, 1843,²⁵⁴ and was in anticipa- tion 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 prospect 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 communion, 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 my fellowship, for I could not be sure that my doubts would not be reduced or overcome, however unlikely I thought ²⁵⁵ 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 complaint 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,

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or to join in the Athanasian Creed? However, I was to have other measure dealt to me; great authorities ruled it so; and a learned controversialist in the North ²⁵⁶ 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 1850 ²⁵⁷, after some correspondence, I wrote the following letter, which will be of service to this narrative, from its chronological character ²⁵⁸ :---

"Dec. 6, 1849. Your uncle says, ` If he (Mr. N.) will 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 years 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 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 Rome, 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 Rome, while he is intending 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 Romanist during the whole, 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 Rome:

"For the second four years I wished to benefit the Church of England without prejudice to the Church of Rome:

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"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 was 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 contemplated 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 Roman 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 argumentative views which were actuating me had been distinctly 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 my 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

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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. Consistency 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, for of course Providence may refuse to us its legitimate issues for our sins.

"I am afraid, that in one respect you may be disappointed. It is my trust, though I must not be too sanguine, 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 Protestants, if there were not some very grave errors on the side of Rome. 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,

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providentially appointed in the English Church. That your communion 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 your 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 ecclesiastical superiors because in many points we may sympathize 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 conceivable 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 Rome 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. Now 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 sudden proceedings with a view to it. I must ask your leave to repeat on this occasion most distinctly, 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

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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 your 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 hostility, 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 you do what none but you can do. Sympathies, which would flow over to the Church of Rome, as a matter 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 opposition to it. I am sure, that, while you suffer, we suffer too from the separation; but we 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.

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"While you are in your present position, the friends of Catholic unity in our Church are but fulfilling the prediction of those of your body who are averse to them, viz. that they will be merely strengthening a rival communion to yours. Many of you say that we 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 Rome 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 ²⁵⁹ 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 were 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 England can be gained. It is by men 'approving themselves,' like the Apostle, 'ministers of Christ.'

"As to your question, whether the Volume you have sent is not calculated to remove my apprehensions that another gospel is substituted for the true one in your practical instructions, before I can answer it in any way, 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

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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 we to change our communion?

"Roman Catholics will find this to be the state of things in time to come, whatever promise they 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 efforts at all risks to carry off individuals. When will they know their position, and embrace a larger and wiser policy? "

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The last letter, which I have inserted ^{260 261}, is addressed to my dear friend, Dr. Russell, the present President of Maynooth. 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. Veron's Rule 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 the letter which I have last inserted 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. Russell whether any thing had been left out in the translation; he answered that there certainly was an omission of one passage ²⁶² 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 manifestations in honour of our Lady had been my great crux as regards Catholicism; I say frankly, I do not fully enter into them

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now; I trust I do not love her the less, because I cannot enter into them. They may be fully 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, certainly ²⁶³ such, in rerum natura. I will not here speculate, 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 immaterial, no dogmatic symbol, no rite, no sacrament, no Saint, not even the Blessed Virgin herself, to come between the soul and its Creator. It is face 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 but indistinctly the effect produced upon me by this note>what I gained from the Volume (of which I have been speaking), but it must have been (something) considerable. At all events I had got a key to a difficulty; in these sermons, (or rather 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 upon ²⁶⁴ me a little later ²⁶⁵ of the Exercises of St. Ignatius. (For) Here again, in a [pure] matter of ²⁶⁶ the (purest and) most direct (acts of) religion,(--)in the intercourse between God and the soul, during a season of recollection, of repentance, of good resolution, of inquiry into vocation,(--)the soul was "sole cum solo;" there was no cloud interposed 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 ²⁶⁷

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as little interfered with the incommunicable glory of the Eternal, as the love which we bear our friends and relations, our tender human sympathies, are inconsistent with that supreme homage of the heart to the Unseen, which really does but sanctify and exalt (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 Development 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 devotions 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 [did not also weigh with me then]. 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 then to take one Roman 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 spoken ²⁶⁸ of it in the passage; which I quoted many pages back {(vide p. 218)}, 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); but it had been a favourite subject with me all along ²⁶⁹. And it is certainly recognized in that celebrated ²⁷⁰ Treatise of Vincent of Lerins, which has so often

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been taken as the basis of the Anglican theory ²⁷¹. In 1843 I began to consider it steadily ²⁷² (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 Faith ²⁷³ versus Church:--

"The kind of considerations which weigh(s) with me are such as the following :--1. I am far more certain (according 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, than that the Roman (modern) doctrines 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 recommend 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 to 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 the Apostolical Succession; for the Supremacy of the See of Rome, than for the Presence in the Eucharist; for the practice of Invocation, than for certain books in the present Canon of Scripture, &c. &c. 5. The analogy of the Old Testament, and also of the New, leads to the acknowledgment 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 philosophical 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 Rome was in truth ancient Antioch,

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Alexandria, and Constantinople, just as a mathematical curve has its own law and expression.

(5.) And thus again I was led on to examine more attentively what I doubt not was in my thoughts long before, viz. the concatenation of argument by 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 philosophical correctness, because I have not given myself to the study of what others ²⁷⁴ have said on the subject; but I think I have a strong true meaning in what I say which will stand examination.

(6.) Moreover, I came to the conclusion which I have been stating, on reasoning of the same nature, as ²⁷⁵ 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 Roman 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 religious faith. In the third part ²⁷⁶ of this narrative 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 recollected that I am historically relating my state of mind, at the period of my life which I am surveying. I am not speaking theologically,

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nor have I any intention of going into controversy, or of defending myself; but speaking historically of what 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 probability, and that all ²⁷⁷ three (grounds of probability, distinct from each other of course in subject matter,) were about the same kind of probability ²⁷⁸, a cumulative, a transcendent probability, but still probability; inasmuch as He who made us, has so willed that in mathematics indeed we (should) arrive at certitude by rigid demonstration, but in religious inquiry we (should) arrive at certitude by accumulated probabilities,-[inasmuch as] He [who] has willed(, I say,) 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) bestows on us (if our will does but co-operate with His,) a certitude ²⁷⁹ 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 proceeding, not by ²⁸⁰ 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.

²⁸¹ [And now I have carried on the history of my opinions to their last point, before I became a Catholic. I find great difficulty in fixing dates precisely; but it must have been some way into 1844, before I thought not only that the Anglican Church was certainly wrong, but that Rome was right. Then I had nothing more to learn on the subject.

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How " Samaria " faded away from my imagination I cannot tell, but it was gone. Now to go back to the time when this last stage of my inquiry was in its commencement, which, if I dare assign dates, was towards the end of 1842.]

In 1843, I took two very [important and] significant steps :-1. In February, I made a formal Retractation of all the hard things which I had said against the Church of Rome. 2. In September, I resigned the Living of St. Mary's, Littlemore inclusive²⁸² :-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 simply to hold, but to publish 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 following 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, [cited] 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.

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.

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294 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

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 they have been sufficiently explained by what I have said in former portions of this narrative; still I have a word or two to say about them, which I have not said before. (In the passage in question) I apologize[d in the lines in question] for saying out (in controversy) charges against the Church of Rome which (withal I affirm that) I fully believed to be true. What is wonderful in such an apology ? 10

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 publicly). The law recognizes this principle. In our own time, men have been imprisoned and fined for saying true things greater 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 the weaknesses of a great man, though the whole -world knew 20

that they 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. There fore(, though I believed what I said against the Roman Church, nevertheless) I could not (religiously) speak ill against the Church of Rome, though I believed what I said, without a good reason. I did believe what I said (on what I thought to be good reasons) ; but had I (also) a good reason for saying it ? I thought I had(, and it was this); viz. I said what I believed was simply necessary in the 30

3-4 they have been sufficiently explained] their plain meaning has been satisfactorily brought out

6 about them, which I have not said before] in addition to my former remarks upon them

6 In the passage commenced a new paragraph in 1865.

8 saying out] saying out

9--10 believed to be true] believed at the time when I made them

11 No new paragraph here in 1865.

25-7 speak ill against . . . . without a good reason] speak it out, unless I was really justified, not only in believing ill, but in speaking ill

28-9 good reason for saying it] just cause for saying out what I believed 30 I said) that to say out

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(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 295

controversy, in order to defend ourselves; I considered that the Anglican position could not be defended, without bringing charges against the Church of Rome: . (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 Roman 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 it justifies his own religious

10 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 ~ recollected that) all the great Anglican divines had thought so before me. They had thought so, and they had acted accordingly. And therefore I said (in the passage in question), with much

20 propriety, that I-had not done it simply 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 was) pleading also that there were extenuating circumstances in the case. We 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 said that his mother's indulgence, when he was a boy, had a good deal to do with it. In like

30 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.

But there was more than this meant in the words which I used :-first, I. will freely confess, indeed I said it some

1-2 , in order to defend ourselves; I considered-that] for self-defence. It was impossible to let it alone

2 defended] satisfactorily maintained

3 bring charges against the Church of Rome] assailing the Roman

9 it] that abuse

19 said] observe 20 done it] used strong language

33-4 But there was'. . used ·.-first,] I was in a humour, certainly,

to bite off their ears

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296 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

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 properly I ought rigidly to have examined myself. (I had thought myself 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 authority, but it implied carelessness 10 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 anticipation, verified by the event, that it would issue in the triumph of Liberalism. Against the Anti-dogmatic principle 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 20 so many years ; and thus my very retirement was its triumph. The men who had driven me from Oxford were distinctly the Liberals ; it was they who had opened the attack upon Tract 90, and it was they who would gain a second benefit, if I went on to retire from the Anglican Church. But this was not all. As I have already said, there are but two alternatives, the way to Rome, 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, 30 who would not follow me now in my advance from Angli- canism to Rome, but would at once leave Anglicanism anti me for the Liberal camp. It is not at all easy (humanly speaking) to wind up an Englishman to a dogmatic level. I had done so in [a] good measure, in the case both of young men and of laymen, the Anglican Via Media being the representative 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 altogether be broken up, in the minds of 5 properly] by right 25 retire from] abandon

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(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 297

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,"

10 and deliberately 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 critically enough; that in such

20 nice points, as those which determine the angle of divergence between the two Churches, I had made considerable miscalculations; and 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. Valeat quantum,- it was all that could be said. This then was a chief reason of that wording of the Retractation, which has given so much offence, (because the bitterness, with which it was written, was not understood:-) and the following letter

30 will illustrate it :--

" April 3, 1844. I wish to remark on W(illiam)'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.

19 critically], cautiously

22 miscalculations ; and] miscalculations. But

L3

298

"The case with me, then, was this, and not surely an unnatural one:-as a matter of feeling and of duty I threw myself into the system which I found myself 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 work,for it has never been more than a paper system....

"So far from my change of opinion having any fair tendency to unsettle persons as to truth 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 continuance of a person(,) who wishes to go right(,) in a wrong system, and not his giving it up, would be that which militated against the objectiveness of Truth, lead- ing, 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 defended 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 system, 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 proportion to their previous zeal, would be their appearance of inconsistency. Certainly, I have always

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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 germinat- ing. 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- ever, did you publish? had you waited quietly, 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 pro- fessing 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 alter- native between silence altogether, and forming a theory and attacking the Roman system."

2. And now, secondly, 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 cause of my doing so was the persevering attack of the Bishops on Tract 90. I alluded to it in the letter which I have inserted 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 condemna- tion 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 as the time of its publication (in 1841) so simply put myself

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300 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

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 suppress it, and they had yielded that point. Since I wrote the former portions of this narrative, I have found what I wrote to Dr. Pusey on March 24, while the matter was 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 went on to say, "My first feeling 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 get 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 fulfilment of those hopes, were at an end in 1843. It is not wonderful then, that in May of that year(, when two out of the three years were gone,) I addressed a letter on the subject of (my retiring from) St. Mary's to the same friend, whom I had consulted about retiring from 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 present I fear, as far as I can analyze my own convictions, I consider the Roman Catholic

6 wrote] published
14 went on to-say'] presently wrote to him
21 get] got
28 , were] was
30 addressed a letter] wrote
32 about retiring from] upon

301

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 301

Communion to be the Church of the Apostles, and that what grace is among us (which, through God's mercy, is not little) is extraordinary, and from the overflowings of His dispensation. I am very far more sure that England is in schism, than that the Roman additions to the Primitive Creed may not be developments, arising out of a keen and vivid realizing of the Divine Depositum of Faith.

"You will now understand what gives edge to the Bishops' Charges, without any undue sensitiveness on my part. They distress me in 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."

When he wrote to make natural objections to my purpose, 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 state, 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 infuse great suspicion of me into the minds of lookers-on.

"By retaining St. Mary's, I am an offence and a stumbling-block. Persons are keen-sighted enough to make out what I think on 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?

"I do not see how I can either preach or publish again, while I hold St. Mary's;--but consider again the following

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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 Rome, as she is; and further, as seeking to promote the spread of right views.

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

"It is easy to say, 'Why will you do any 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 I did not act, others would find means to do so.

"Well, the plan has been taken up with great eagerness and interest. Many men are setting to work. I set down, the names of men, most 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 compatible with my holding St. Mary's, being what I am?"

Such was the object and the origin of the projected Series of the English Saints; and, as the publication was connected, as has been seen, with my resignation of

303

Lion state one or two ci unfortunate event . . . .

his promising me, which remain quietly in our Ch passed since, that time, a which promised that hf with his present position; as settled as one could i his satisfaction at being xo exacted of him."

I felt it impossible to x the Anglican Church, wh little I had to do with it, in a few days to a friend

" September 7, 1843. to resign St. Mary's. 11 least whom l little thoup Really we may expect a a Volume of Sermons. 20 moving."

I resigned my living not the means of doing Mr. Goldsmid aided me i no fault with the Libera field. As to the act of Scott has applied the tee in his mother's milk."

I said to a friend :- Victria cause this

so And now I (may be aln to an end, as fax as this history both of my (eh: of the public acts which

23 aided) was kind enough

25-8 as Walter Scott has image from Walter Scott

31 this sketch has to treat this is

33 1 had one commenced a (FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 303

St. Mary's, I may be allowed to conclude what I have to say on the subject here, though it will read like a digression. 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 Herding, and decided that it

io was of [such] a character [as to be] inconsistent even with its being given to the world by an Anglican publisher

and so the scheme was given up at once. After the two first parts, I retired from the Editorship, and those Lives only were published 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 one of the authors of them: " I am not Editor, I have no direct

go control over the Series. It is Us work; he may admit what he pleases; and exclude what .hepleases. 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 exercised 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 gave up the Editorship, I had various engagements with

so 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: bleak, and I let them take their course. Some have come to nothing; others like yours have gone on: I have seen such;- either iii 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.

2 will] may 13 parts] numbers 11 being given to the world, by] proceeding from 18-19 one of the authors of]the author of one of

304

304 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 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, " will be published by their respective authors on their own responsibility." This notice is repeated in February, in the advertisement to the second volume entitled " The Family of St. Richard," though to this volume [also, for some reason (which I cannot now recollect), I also put my initials. In the Life io 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 was ever put into print. I will add, since the authors have been considered hotheaded boys, whom I was in charge of and whom I suffered to do intemperate things, that, while the waiter of St. Augustine was of the mature age which I l&sre stated, (the author of the proposed Life of St. Boniface; Mr. Bowden, so was forty-six; Mr. Johnson, who was to write St. Aldhelm; 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, some remained Anglicans, and others have pressed what are called free or liberal opinions (1). 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 so the last year an inmate of my house here, has just conformed to the Church of Rome. 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 informa- 5 " will be] would " be 7 is] was 8, 9 volume] number 15 was ever put into] ever appeared in 16-17 hot-headed boys] " hot-headed fanatic young men " 19 of the mature age which I have stated] in 1844 past forty 26 Footnote in 1865. (1 Vide Note D, Lives of the English Saints.) 26 A space was left after this line in 1865.

305

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 306

tion state one or two circumstances connected 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 eventually 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 io exacted of him."

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

" September 7, 1$43. 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 2o moving."

I resigned my living on September (the) 18th. I had not the means of doing it legally at Oxford. The late Mr. Goldsmid aided 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, as Walter Scott has applied the text, that they had " seethed the did in his mother's milk."

I said to a friend :- Victrig causa this placuit, sed victa Catoni."

3o And now I (may be almost said to) have brought [almost] to an end, as far as this sketch has to treat of them, the history both of my (changes of religious) opinion[s,] and of the public acts which they involved. I had [only] one

23 aided] was kind enough to aid

25-6 as Walter Scott has applied the text] to borrow a Scriptural image from Walter Scott

31 this sketch has to treat of them) is necessary for a sketch such as this is

33 1 had one commenced a new paragraph in 1866.

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308 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

more advance of mind to make; and (one final step to take.) that (further advance of mind) was, to be (able honestly to say that I was) certain of what I had hitherto anticipated, concluded, and believed ; and this was close upon my submission to the Catholic Church. [And I had only one mores act to perform, and that was the set of submission itself.] But two years yet intervened before the date of these final events; during which I was in lay communion in the Church of England, attending its services as usual, and abstaining altogether from inter- io course 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 then I now have to add is of a private nature, being my preparation for the great event, for which I was waiting, in the interval between the autumns of 1843 and 1845:

And I shall almost confine] what I have to say (about zo myself between these two autumns I shall almost confine) to this one point,(-)the difficulty I was in as to the best mode of revealing the state of my mind to my friends and others, and how I managed to do it.'

Up to January, 1842, I had not disclosed my state of unsettlement to more than three persons, as has been mentioned above, and (as) is repeated in the (course of the) letters which' I am now about to give to the reader.

1 more] final 'p . 1 make;] accomplish, 2 that] That

3-5 what I had . . . close upon my submission] the conclusions at which I had already arrived. That further step, imperative when such certitude was attained, was my submission

7-8 But two years . . . events; during which] new paragraph: 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, r 9 communion in] communion with 24 do] reveal 24 After this line a space was left in 1866.

307

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 307

To two of them, intimate and familiar companions, in the Autumn of 1839 : to the third, an old friend too, (whom I have named above,) when, I suppose, I was in great distress of mind upon the affair of the Jerusalem Bishopric. In May, 1843, I mentioned it(, 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 [and is] abhorrent

io to me, it is the scattering doubts, and unsettling consciences without necessity. 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 crossing 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

zo tone, warned me that it was dangerous, and then was silent, I think I should be startled, and should look abbot me anxiously, but (I think too that) I [also] should go on, till I had better grounds for doubt ; and such was my state, I believe, till the end of 1842. Then again, when my dissatisfaction 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 progress ; I was not near certitude yet. Certitude is a reflex action ; it is to know that one

ao knows. I , believe I had not that, till close upon my iece~ion--iWo-the--Catholic- Church:--Agam~- 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 in 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 conduct in 1843; my own simple answer to my great

5 mentioned it] made it known 10 it is] it was 30 1 believe I had not that] Of that I believe I was not possessed

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308 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

difficulty was, Do what your present state of opinion requires (in the light of duty), and let that doing tell: speak by acts. This I did; my first act of the year was in February[, 1843]. After three months' deliberation I (had) published 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 was in September (in the same year) ; after much sorrowful lingering and hesitation, I (had) resigned my Living. I tried indeed(, before io 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; but I did not succeed in my attempt. I could indeed bear to.become the curate at will of another, but I hoped [still that] (an arrangement was possible, by which, while I had the curacy,) I might have been my own master there. I had hoped an exception might have been made in my favour, under the circumstances ; but I did not gain my request. Indeed, I was zo asking what was impracticable, and it is well for me that

it was so.

These were my two acts of the year, and I said, " I cannot be wrong in making them ;let that follow which must fallow 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 as a simple duty to do, did create a general, suspicion about me, without such responsibility as would be involved in my taking the initiative in creating it. Then, when friends wrote me on the subject, 30 I either did not deny or I confessed it, according to the character and need of their letters. Sometimes, in the case of intimate friends, whom I seemed to leave

1, 3, 8 was] had been 3 did] had done

14-16 but I did not succeed in my attempt] I thought in 1843 that perhaps I need not forfeit my existing relations towards it

16 bear] submit 18 there] in serving it 20 Indeed,] Perhaps 23 were] had been 27 felt as] felt it 29 taking the initiative in] initiating any direct act for the sake of 31 it] my state of mind 33 seemed to leave] should otherwise have been leaving

309

(FROM 1841 TO 1846.) 309

in ignorance of what others knew about me, I invited the question.

And here comes in another point for explanation. While I was fighting (in Oxford) for the Anglican Church [in Oxford], 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;

io 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 proeeeding(s) : and my utmost endeavour was to tranquillize 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 Romeward, I gave up [altogether and in any shape], as far as ever was possible, the thought

20 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 unsettlement ? And, if they were unsettled already, how could I -point to them a place of refuge, which I was not sure that I should choose for myself ? My only

3o line, my only duty, was to keep simply to my own case. I recollected Paacal's words, " Je mouirai seal." I deliber ately 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 intentions; 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 1 about me] on every aide of them

28-9 which. . . choose] when . . . choose it

310

-,w, ~-~,s'9 iW y f-:- -. :f,~°, w d--`-' ~'.,_ .._ ~,, .,~-.i~._ - ~ rte ~~,~_mv- ',sT ".~y~, z efc~' n, s.=Yw r. ~"v. p°^~`t,'~,y~~'v ~i _ ~,__ ._~ __ _a . ~.:~: ~~ . ._d , v . .n~F .:pro ,w.:: -------------- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ,. - ,., - - 308 HISTORY OF Mi 310 difficulty was, Do what yoiI . (in the fight of duty)'an d This I did ; my first act o After three months' de retractation of the violent Rome: I could not be I but I did no more (at t Anglican teaching. My the same year) ; after mu( tion, I (had) resigned my I did so,) to keep Little was still to remain an int given to it a Church and it a Parish, and I loved i attempt. I could indeed of another, but I hoped possible, by which, while e been my own master the might have been made in stances ; but I did not g asking what was impracti it was so. These were my two acts o ` be wrong in making them ; in the thoughts of the worl I do." (And, as time wen . purpose. What I felt as a a general suspicion about as would be involved in ~ creating it. Then, when f I either did not deny or I character and need of the case of intimate frien 11431,58bwtsI] hadd nbeoet n succeed ' perhaps I need not forfeit my ex' 15 bear] submit lg 20 Indeed,] Perhaps 23 29 taking the initiative in] init 31 it] my state of mind 33 seemed to leave] should oth HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

against me But, what was far worse, there were a number of tender, eager hearts, of whom I knew nothing at all, who were watching me, wishing to 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 reports 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 themselves, and, being of more sensitive io complexion of mind than myself, were made ill by the suspense. 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- 20 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 fiat forced his way through the palisade, and in whose courage and sagacity we all put implicit trust,) suddenly stop short, and declare that he 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 selfishlyboth towards them and towards 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 absurdity to my reason to be converted in partnership. I wished to go to my Lord by myself, and in my own way, 10 themselves] they were

33 towards them and towards others] in her case and in that of others ---- ------- - - ---- -------

311

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.)

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

io known to others.

The following three letters are written to a friend, who had every claim upon me to be frank with him:-it will be seen that I disclose the real state of (my) mind [to him, ] in proportion as he presses me.

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

$o " 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 No. 90, on the part of the Church. I could not stand against such an unanimous expression of opinion from the Bishops, supported, as it has been, by the concurrence, or at least silence; of all classes in the Church, lay and clerical. If there ever was 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

ao authority ;-- no protests- have- been offeredagainst 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 interpreting the Articles makes them mean any thing or nothing. 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

10 others the world 12 him 1864,1865] him, Archdeacon Manning 187,8

312

312 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS unwillingly you know,) on the understanding that I was to deliver his judgment on No. 90 instead of him. A year elapses

id , and a second and heavier judgment came forth. I d 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 communion io Catholic, when one can neither appeal to any clear statement of Catholic doctrine in its formularies, nor interpret 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.

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

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 which to me, alas, are shadows,) that it.is not from disappointment, irritation, or impatience, that I have, whether rightly or wrongly, resigned St. Mary's ; but because I think the Church of Rome the Catholic Church, and ours not part of the Catholic Church, because not in communion with Rome ; and because I feel that I could not ao 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,

Footnote in 1865. (a. I think Sumner, Bishop of Chester, must have done so already.

313

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 313

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 Catholicity of the English Church ; for two years it quieted me. Since the summer of 1889 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

io the affair of No. 90, when that wretched Jerusalem Bishopric (no personal matter) revived all my alarms. 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 quasieeclesiastical 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 confirmations of a conviction forced upon me, while engaged in the course of duty, viz. that, theological reading

20 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

so my own choosing, but what came to me in t ha 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.

4o It makes me realize my own views to myself ; it makes me see their consistency; it assures me of myown deliberate-

314

314 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

ness; 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."

(3.) My correspondent 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 heart-ache. On all sides(:-) I am quite haunted by the lo 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 " [Uttlemore], " but one (near) friend whom I felt I could not help telling the zo other day. But, I suppose, [very] many (more) suspect it."

On receiving these letters, my correspondent, if I recollect rightly, at once communicated the matter of them to Dr. Pusey, and this will enable me to state as nearly as I can(,) the way in which (he first became aware of) my changed state of opinion [was made known to him].

I had from the first a great difficulty in making Dr. Pasey 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, ao 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 positions, 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 Rome. When 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 him-

19 These are the dudhor'e [ ] 24 state] describe,

315

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 315

self into what I said, that I felt the great responsibility I should incur, if I put things before him just as I might view them (myself). 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

lo 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 anxiety, lest, if his mind became dejected in consequence, his health would 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 as there might be need at the moment, knew all my thoughts easily; but for him to

2o 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

ao 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 judge from a letter of his which I have 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."

14 would] should 18 as there might be need at] according to the need of

316

314 HIST 316 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS ness; it suggel In that autumn of 1843, at the time that I spoke to it takes away Dr. Pusey, I asked another friend also to communicate a heavy secret. [to others] in confidence(, to whom he would,) the prospect " You may which lay before me. (3.) My corn To another friend(, Mr. James Hope, now Mr. Hope I replied thus: Scott,) I gave the opportunity of knowing it, if he would, my heart ache in the following Postscript to a letter : than any I ha " While I write, I will add a word about myself. You there is much may come near a person or two who, owing to circum heart-ache. O stances, know more exactly my state of feeling than you io one dreadful do, though they would not tell you. Now l do not like and causing the , that you should not be aware of this, though I see no a part of my pr reason why you should know what they happen to know. myself. Your wishing it [otherwise] would be a reason." " Since the b I had a dear and old friend, near his death ; I never told to tell the . state him my state of mind. Why should I unsettle that sweet I think, withou calm tranquillity, when I had nothing to offer him instead ? writing to me a I could not say, " Go to Rome; " else I should have shown No one in Ogfo him the way. Yet I offered myself for his examination. one (near) frien~ One day he led the way to my speaking out; but, rightly 20 other day. But, _ or wrongly, I could not respond. My reason was, " I have On receiving t no certainty on the matter myself. To say ` I think' is lect rightly, at o to tease and to distress, not to persuade." Dr. Ptisey, and I wrote to him on Michaelmas Day, 1843 : " As you I can(,) the way inlay suppose, I have nothing to write to you about, changed state of pleasant. I could tell you some very painful things ; but I had from the it is best not to anticipate trouble, which after all can but understand such happen, and, for what one knows, may be averted. You himself and me. are always so kind, that sometimes, when I part with you, end of 1838 for I am nearly moved to tears, and it would be a relief to be ao he wished us both so, at your kindness and at my hardness. I think no one of course, and wi ever had such kind friends as I have." he would not do . The next year, January 22, I wrote to him : " Pusey has appearing to, the quite enough on him, and generously takes on himself more of importance. - than enough, for me to add burdens when I am not obliged ; any hints, which particularly too, when I am very conscious, that there are inclination to Ro burdens, which I am or shall be obliged to lay upon him I often had not th some time or other, whether I will or no." from affection to And on. February 21 : " Half-past ten. I am just up, g twice an January) in has hYou mank 40 19 These are Eh (except y) in my memory. y thi

317

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 317

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 [letter] is a better Ash-

io Wednesday than birthday present; " [his birthday was the same day as mine; it was Ash-Wednesday 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 2o 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 common, that you are living a calm and cheerful time, and I am enjoying the thought of you: It is your blessing to have a clear heaven, and peace around, according to the blessing pronounced on Benjamin(3). So it is, (my dear A.,) and so may it ever be."

ao He was in simple good faith. He died in September that 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,

9 10, 12 These are the Author's [ ] [letter] in line 9 was omitted in 1865. 28 Footnote in 1865. (' Deut. xxxiii. 12.> 30 that] of the same

318

------- - ----- 318 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

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 (with)in the Anglican Church remained too i. I wrote to a friend upon his death:-

" 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 lo strength from them, and see 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 steepness of the way. Only, may we be kept from unlawful security, lest we have Moab and Ammon for our progeny, the enemies of Israel."

I could not continue in this state, either in the light of duty or of reason. My difficulty was this : I had been 2o deceived greatly once; how could I be sure that I was not deceived a second time ? I [then] 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 rejected ? how could I ever again have confidence in myself ? As in 1840 I listened to the rising doubt in favour of Rome, now I listened to the waning doubt in favour of the English 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 3o apprehension of this, though I thought a time would come,

`wheri. 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,) I determined to write an Essay on Doctrinal

'('> On this subject, vid. my Third Lecture on "Anglican Difficu,ties "(, also Note E, Anglican Church). (This footnote did not appear in the original pamphlet.)

5 a friend upon his death] another friend thus 28 English] Anglican 34 power] Power 35 determined to write] came to the resolution of writing _ uea

319

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.)

Development; and then, if, at the end of it, my convictions in favour of the Roman Church were not weaker, to make up my mind to seek admission into her fold. [I acted upon this resolution in the beginning of 1845, and worked at my Essay steadily into the autumn.]

[I told my resolution to various friends at the beginning of the year; indeed, it was at that time known ge$erally.]

(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, unsettlement, alarm, scepticism, which I am causing to so many; and the loss of kind feeling and good opinion on the part

so 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. 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, unvarying conviction that our Church is in schism, and that my salvation depends on my joining the Church of Rome.

30 I may use argumentfx ad hominem to this person or that 6 ; 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 ! 3 to make up my mind to seek] of taking the necessary steps for

30 Footnote in 1865. (s Vide supr. p. 311, &c. Letter of Oct. 14,1843, compared with that of Oct. 25.)

320

320 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 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. (" W~at 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, to 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 Totter ; though I have not yet spoken of it, it was a great gift." (Shortly after) I wrote to a friend thus " My intention is, if nothing comes upon me, which I cannot foresee, to remain quietly in state quo for a considerable time, trusting that my friends will kindly remember me and my trial in their prayers. And I should 20 give up my fellowship some time before any thing further took place." [One very. dear friend, now no more, Charles Marriott, sent me a letter at the beginning of the neat year, from which, from love of him, I quote some sentences [" January 15, 1845. You know me well enough to be aware, that I never see through any thing at first. Your letter to B. 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 so 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 arid are still striving to seek after God for ourselves, and to revive true religion among others, under her authority and guidance, has been generous 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 16 a friend] the same friend 17 " My intention These words did not commence a new paragraph in 1855.

321

(FROM 1841 TO 1846.) 321

could sustain. I have felt with pain every link that you have severed, and I have asked no questions, because I felt that you 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 employed

io as is best for the Holy Catholic Church."]

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

[l. " October, 1844. What can I say more to your purpose ? If you will ask me any specific questions, I will answer them, as far as I am able."]

2. " 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-

zo 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 ofthings 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

3o support one in doing so."

-_-3-. - " 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 explain 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.) -

APOLOGIA 31 3.] 2.

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322 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

(" 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 Roman 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 preference of another Church, no delight in its services, no hope of greater religious advancement in it, no indignation, no to 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 I) be saved in the English Church ? am I in safety, were I to die to-night ? Is it a mortal sin in me, not joining 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 Churoh of Rome; somehow, I do not like using them zo except under the sanction of the Church, and this makes

me unwilling to admit them in members of our Church."

4. " March 30. Now I will tell you more than any one knows except two friLnds. 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 30 me.' But I suppose I have no right to wait for ever for this. Then I am waiting, because friends are most considerately bearing me in mind, and asking guidance for me ; 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

16 P.S. This commenced a new paragraph in 1865. 23 4.] 3. ---------- -----------

323

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 323

of 1846, which would 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 what I am doing; it takes off that vague and distressing surprise, ` What can have made him? ' "

5. " June 1. What you tell me of yourself makes it

io plain that it is your duty to remain quietly and patiently, till you see more clearly where you are ; else you are leaping 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 the 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. Coin= cidently with it was an exceedingly kind article about me in a Quarterly, in its April number. The writer praised

20 me in feeling 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

l 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) This was the occasion of my writing [to a very intimate friend] the following letter(, addressed

1 to a very intimate friend)

~ so " April 3,1845 . . . . Accept this apology, my dear C(hurch), and forgive me. As I say so, tears come into my eyes,that arises from the accident of this time, when I am giving

1 up so much I love. Just now I have been overset by A. B.'s article in the C. D. ; yet really, my dear C(hurch),

: I have never for an instant had 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 hypocrite ? how could I be

9 5.] 4. 18 was] appeared 27 This was the occasion of my writing] it is alluded to in 34 A. B.1864] A.1866, James Mozley Edition subeeqecent to 1876. 34 C. D.] Christian ltemembrancer

324

HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

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, to and save me the pain of sending him a line."

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

(I am now close upon the date of my reception into the Catholic Church; and have reserved for this place some sentences from a letter addressed to me at the beginning 20 of the year by a very dear friend, now no more, Charles Marriott. I quote them 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 30 towards us, who have striven and are still striving to seek after God for ourselves, anti to revive true religion among others, under her authority and guidance, has been generous 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 that you have severed, and I have asked no questions, because I felt that you ought to measure the disclosure of your thoughts according to the occasion, and the capacity of Qo those to whom you spoke. I write in haste, in the midst

325

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 325

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 Cod's Hand, in the earnest prayer that you may be so employed as is best for the Holy Catholic Church.")

All this time I was hard at my Essay on Doctrinal Development (in the first months of 1845, and I was hard at it all through the year till October). As I advanced, my view so cleared that instead of speaking any more of

to " the Roman Catholics," I 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

ao the proposition made to me that the good priest should take Littlemore in his way, with a view to his doing for me the same charitable service as he had done to my friend.

On ~ctober (the) 8th I wrote to a number of friends the following letter :-

" Littlemore, October 8(th),1845. I am this night expect- mFather Dominic, the Passionist, who, from his youth,

g has been led to have distinct and direct thoughts, first of the countries of the North, then of England. After thirty

ao~ears'(almosty 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 . . . .

" 1 have so many letters to write, that this must do for 6 All this time I was hard at] I had begun 6-7 Doctrinal Development] the Development of Doctrine 33 He is a These words commenced a new paragraph in 1866. 35 one] One

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326 HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS

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 Cardinal Acton:-

" Nov. 25, 1845. I hope you will have anticipated, before I express it, the great gratification which I received io 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 20 will justify.

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

" If I might ask of your Eminence a favour, it is that so 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; afterwards he sent me to Rome, and finally placed me in Birmingham.

327

(FROM 1841 TO 1845.) 327 I wrote to a friend:-

" January 20, 1846. You may think how lonely I am. ` Obliviscere populum tuum et domurn 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

io day or two when I had originally taken possession of it. I slept on Sunday night at my dear friend's, Mr. Johnson'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 College, Trinity, which was so dear to me, and which held on its foundation so many who have been kind to me both when

zo I was a boy, and all through my Oxford life. Trinity had never been unkind to me. There used to be much snapdragon 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.'

19 have] had [1 At length Dr. Newman visited Oxford on Feb. 26, 1878, after he had been made Honorary Fellow of Trinity.]

328

~, ~ ~ _, ... ... ,~ .M_.~._, .r... I, r . . ! _~.~.~. _r ~m._.~_~,.~ ___.w.__~. m ~I z ~ I ~' f i~ ~ i!;i ' ~i ... ~ :i `. , ' I . ~ I; I i ! . I ~ ' I L. i ~. . I i ; - i I .. %1 r I 1 °, t . ~I . a. - ' I .. I j I

329

PART vII. GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY. [Published as a Pamphlet, Thursday, June 2, 1864] M3

330

331

PART VII. GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

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 subjects; but that I have had no changes 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 difference of thought or of temper from what I had before.

to 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

20 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 difficulties ; and it is simple fact, that, for myself, I cannot answer those difficulties. Many persons are very sensitive of the difficulties of religion; I am as sensitive (of them) as any one ; but I have never been able to see a connexion

Part VII. General Answer to Mr. Kingsley] Chapter V. Position of my Mind since 1845.

6 changes] variations 8 to myself These words are omitted in another copy of 1864. 8 any 1864, 1865] any inward 1864 (another copy)

9 difference . . . before] change, intellectual or moral, wrought in my mind

11 revelation] Revelation 26 religion] Religion

332

332 GENERAL ANSWER;TO MR.. KINGSLEY.

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 thqusand difficulties do not make one doubt, as I understand 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 (themselves), or to their compatibility with each other. A man may be annoyed that he cannot work out a mathematical problem, of which the answer is or is not io given to him, without doubting 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 God is, to my own apprehension, encompassed with most difficulty, and (yet) borne in upon our minds with most power.

People say 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 20 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, " f 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, so will stand any test." But for myself, I cannot indeed prove it, I cannot tell how it is; but I say, " Why should not it be ? What's to hinder it ? What do I know of substance or matter ? just as much as the greatest philo sophers, and that is nothing 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 know ledge in physics. The Catholic doctrine leaves phenomena alone. It does not say that the phenomena go; on the 8 compatibility] relations 33 not it] it not

333

(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 333

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 majestic 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 sirizply incompatible with my idea of one ; but when I come to the

lo 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 herself.

201 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 superstition and hypocrisy, as the original sin of Catholicism; so now I will go on, as before, identifying myself with the Church and vindicating it,-not of course denying the enormous mass of sin and ignorance which exists of necessity in that

ao world-wide multiform Communion,-but going to 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

27 go on] proceed 29 ignorance] error

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334 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

the world of men, 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 effect 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 refiexion of its Creator. This is, to me, one of the great difficulties of this absolute primary truth, to io 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 polytheist 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 zo 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 their ways, habits, governments, forms of worship ; their enterprises, their aimless courses, their random achievements and acquirements, the impotent conclusion of longatanding facts, the tokens so faint and broken[,] of a superintending design, the blind evolution of what turn ao 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," 40 10 the] those

335

---- - ------- (POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 335

-all this is a vision to dizzy and appal; and inflicts upon the mind the sense of a profound mystery, which is absolutely beyond human solution.

What shall be said to this heart-piercing, reason-bewilderingfact ? I can only answer, that either there is no Creatgr, 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

io came, his birth-place or his family connexions, 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 ; if there be a God, since there is a God, the human race is implicated in some terrible aboriginal 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

20 the doctrine of what is theologically 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 object of

_ mercy ? Since the world is in so abnormal a state, surely it would be no surprise to me, if the interposition were of necessity equally extraordinary-or what is called miracu-

ao lour. But that subject does not directly come into the --scope -ofmy pxeaentTemarl~- Miracles- as-evidenne;-involves (a process of reason, or) an argument ; and of course I am thinking of some means 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, alldissolving scepticism of the intellect in religious inquiries

I have no intention at all to deny, that truth is the real 26 object] purpose 38 to deny] of denying 33 means] mode of interference

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336 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR..KINGSLEY.

object of our reason, and that, if it does not attain to truth, either the premise .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 immortality of the soul, and in a future retribution; but I am considering it 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, lo 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 disappearing 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 Catholic Church things are tending,(-)with far greater rapidity 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 zo 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 ao into- -subjeetinn.- -Tie-necessity--of-sums form-of religion for the interests of humanity, has been generally acknowledged: 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 religion, 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

7 it] the faculty of reason

337

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 afford 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 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 interfere in human affairs, and to make provisions for retaining in the world a knowledge of Himself, so definite and distinct as to be proof against the energy of human scepticism, 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 infallibility, as a provision, adapted by the mercy of the Creator, to preserve religion in the world, and to restrain that freedom 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

338

of the revealed body of truths, but (in reference to the sanction which it gives to truths which may be known independently of it,-) only as they bear upon the defence of natural religion. I say, that a power, possessed of infallibility in religious teaching, is happily adapted to be a working instrument, in the course of human affairs, for 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 io in mind my main purpose, which is a defence of myself.

r am defending myself here from a plausible charge brought against Catholics, as will be seen better as I proceed. 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 20 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 mechanically 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 messenger [must be to proclaim it]. 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,

1 the revealed body of truths] Revelation in its subject-matter 3 only as they bear] as it bears 35 divinely accredited] divinely-accredited 30

339

she must ban and anathematize it. This is the meaning of a statement (of mine), which has furnished matter for one of those special accusations to which I am at present replying: I have, however, no fault at all to confess in regard to it ; I have nothing to withdraw, and in consequence I here deliberately 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 preamble 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 possession 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 interpretation to her whole course of teaching and action.

In like manner she has ever put forth, with most energetic 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 extricated, purified, and restored; not(,) that it is a mere mass of Kliopeless) evil, but that- it has -the -profnise (upon it) of great things, and even now(, %n 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 any outward provisions) of preaching and teaching, even though it be her own, but from a certain inward spiritual power or grace imparted directly from above, and which is in her keeping.

36 any] certain 37 it] they 38 a certain] an 39 which is in her keeping] of which she is the channel

340

340 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

She has it in charge to rescue human nature from its misery, but not simply by raising it [up]on its own level, but by lifting it up to a higher level than its own. She recognizes 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 conversion must begin with the first springs lo 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 community. 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 pertinaciously inflicts upon mankind; as to such she observes no half-measures, no economical reserve, no so 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 reconsecrated to your Maker,(-)and, the last not the least, your intellect." It was for repeating these points of her teaching 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 ao religious opinions. The writer has said that I was demented if I believed, and unprincipled 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, which was absolutely closed to an accomplished statesman, 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

2 raising] restoring 35 which] such as

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(POSITION Oh' MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 341

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 conditions, is a random utterance, an almost outward act, not directly from the heart, however disgraceful (and despicable) it map be, (however prejudicial to the social contract, however deserving of public reprobation;) whereas we have the express words of our Lord to the doctrine that " whoso Iooketh 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 [the doctrine of] original sin, or that there is a supernatural revelation, 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, with which the Church is invested, to that power itself, Infallibility, I make two brief remarks:(-I.) 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 Oubaect-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 lgitimate manner, for otherwise of course it is but dormant, to have for itself a sure guidance into the very meaning of every portion of the 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

22 with which the Church is invested] which is made to the Church 23 make) premise

33-4 dormant, to have for itself a sure guidance into] quiescent, to know for certain 35 the Divine] that Divine

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342 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

what it cannot. It claims, moreover, to have a hold upon 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 particular case, they are (simply) consistent with revealed truth. It claims to decide magisterially, whether infallibly or not, that such and such statements are or are not prejudicial to the [Apostolic] depositum of faith, in their spirit or in their consequences, and to allow them, or condemn and forbid them, accord- lo ingly. It claims to impose silence at will on any matters,' or controversies, of doctrine, which on its own ipse dixit, it pronounces to be dangerous, or inexpedient, or inopportune. It claims that(,) whatever may be the judgment of Catholics upon such acts, these acts should be received by them with those outward marks of reverence, submission, and loyalty, which Englishmen, for instance, pay to the presence of their sovereign, without public criticism on them, as being in their matter (they are) inexpedient, or in their manner violent or harsh. And lastly, it claims to $o 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,havingthusdescribedit, 1 profess- myown ao absolute submission to its claim. I believe the whole revealed 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

7 infallibly] as within its own province 9 depositum] Depositum 18 public] expressing any 19 , as being] on the ground that

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(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 343

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

io 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 animo, as on my own part, 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

20 humanity is utterly weighed down(,) to the repression of all independent effort 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 Infallibility and Reason in the past, and the pro spect of it in the future. The energy of the human intellect " does from opposition grow; " it thrives and is joyous,

ao with a tough elastic strength,- under the terrible blows of the divinely-fashioned weapon, and is never so much itself as when it has lately been overthrown. It is the custom with Protestant 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 16 as the 1864, 1865] to be a 1864 (another copy)

17 on my own part] for myself ------------------

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344 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

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 Reason, from within and without, 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 io exhibition of religious absolutism, but [it] 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 intellects 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 zo factory,) for the melting, refining, and moulding, [as in some moral factory,] by an incessant noisy process, [(if I may proceed to another metaphor,)] of the raw material of human nature, so excellent, so dangerous, so capable of divine purposes.

St. Paul says 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 30 freedom or vigour of human thought in religious speculation, 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, Eutychianism, 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.

5-6 from within and without] both as its ally and as its opponent 16 majesty] Majesty 23 of the raw 1864, 1866] the raw 1864 (another copy)

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(POSITION_OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 345

First., infallibility cannot act outside of a definite circle of thought, and it must in all its decisions, or definitions, 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. [Thus, in,illustration, it does not extend to statements, however sound and evident,

xo which are mere logical conclusions from the Articles of the Apostolic Depositum; again, it can pronounce nothing about the persons of heretics, whose works fall within its legitimate . province.] (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 not actually received, (if not) merely because it has not been told me.

:o Nothing can be imposed upon me different 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 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,

~o is that I am henceforth 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 it:. (and that, because it so intimately harmonizes with that circle of recognized dogmatic truths, into which it has been recently

18-19 not actually received, (if not)] been kept from receiving, (if so,) 19 received, (if not) 1864] received; if not; 1864 (another copy).

19 told] brought home to 30 am henceforth] have henceforth the satisfaction of having 35 it:] the doctrine;

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346 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY. received; but) if I 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 [fall], when left to themselves, io (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 difficulties 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. V% a 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 20 our manner,-in the particular temper, spirit, and light, (whatever word is used,) in which Catholics believe it,there is no burden at all in holding that the Blessed Virginwas conceived without original sin; indeed, it is a simple fact to say, that Catholics 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 infliction on the Catholic world, it was received every where on its promulgation with the greatest enthusiasm. It was in consequence of the unanimous petition, pre- so sented from all parts (of the Church) to the Holy See, in behalf of a (ex cathedr&) declaration that the doctrine was Apostolic, that it was declared so to be. I never heard of one Catholic having difficulties in receiving it, 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 32 a] an 34 receiving it] receiving the doctrine 35 already 1864, 1866] really 1864 (another copy).

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(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 347

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 precision in their view of it, which has been given to it by means of the long controversy of the centuries which followed. And hence the difference of opinion, and the controversy.

Now the instance which I have been taking suggests another remark; the number of those (so called) new doctrines will not oppress us, if it takes eight centuries to promulgate even one of them. Such is about the length of time through which the preparation has been carried on for the definition of the Immaculate Conception. This of course is an extraordinary case; but 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 Chris tianity 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 led to my writing ;-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 Triden tine Decrees are not isolated from each other, but are 12 given to it] attained 12 controversy] disputes 13 hence] in this want of precision lay 34-5 led to my writing] been the occasion of this Volume

348

348 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY. 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 Theses condemned by Popes, and on their dogmatic decisions generally. I acknowledge that at first sight they seem from their number to be a greater burden to the faith of individuals than are the Canons of Councils; still I do not believe (that) m matter of fact [that] they are so at all, and I give t~ reason for it:-it is not that a Catholic, layman or priest, is indifferent to the subject, or, from io a sort of recklessness, 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 error, such as Lutheranism or Jansenism, principally ethical not doctrinal, which are foreign to 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. zo

Now I will go on in fairness to say what I think is the great trial to the Reason, 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 subjectmatters which lie beyond its own proper limits, and it most reasonably has such a jurisdiction. It could not act in its own province, unless it had a right to act out of it. ao It could not properly defend religious truth_ without claiming for it 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 matters which

3-4 Theses condemned by Popes] theological censures, promulgated by Popes, which the Church has received

5 acknowjed~e] own 6 they] those decisions 6 to the] on the 16 foreign to] divergent from 32 it] that truth

349

(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 349

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 [all] this (province, taken as a whole,) it does not so much speak doctrinally, 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 i is true for all times, and never can be unsaid. Nor does it at all follow, because there is a gift of infallibility in the Catholic Church, that therefore the power in possession of it is in all its proceedings infallible. " O, 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 Pro-

3o testant communities and institutions-?- 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 Church- men have before now obeyed the royal command to abstain from certain theological questions). Such injunctions[,] as I have supposed, are laid merely upon our actions, not upon our thoughts. How, for instance, does it tend to make a man a hypocrite, to be forbidden to publish a libel ? his thoughts are as free as before : authoritative

12-13 power... is... its] parties who are... are... their 36 supposed] been contemplating

350

350 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

prohibitions may tease and irritate, but they have no bearing whatever upon the exercise of reason.

So much at first sight; but I will go on to say further, that, in spite of all that the most hostile critic may say upon the encroachments or severities of high ecclesiastics, in times past, in the use of their power, I think that the event has shown after all, that they were mainly in the right, and that those whom they were hard upon (were) mainly in the wrong. I love, for instance, the name of Origen: 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 doctrine and [his] followers and (the) ecclesiastical power, his opponents 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 Vigilius? 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 afterwards became heresy was the urging forward some truth against the prohibition of authority at an unseasonable 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 do any thing towards it(s accomplishment) 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) bring(ing) 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 it is infallible, or the formal conditions of the exercise of that gift may be wanting, it is clearly the duty of authority to act vigorously in the case.

4-5 say upon] urge about 27 do] be doing 37 which it] which that authority

351

Yet that ²⁸³ act will go down to posterity as an instance of a tyrannical interference with private judgment, and of the silencing of a reformer, and of a base love of corruption or error; and it will show still less to advantage, if the ruling power happens in its proceedings to act with²⁸⁴ 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 principally at heart, to destroy every school of thought but its own.

Such a state of things may be provoking and discouraging at the time, in the case of two classes of persons; of moderate men who wish 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, because it has the promise of continuing, and that with greater rapidity, and more signal results. Now these discoveries, 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 ²⁸⁵, 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 consequence of the con-

352

fident tone of the schools of secular knowledge, are in danger of being led away into a bottomless 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 they 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 which bore the name thirty or forty years ago. (Now) It is scarcely [now] a party; it is the educated lay world. 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. Now ²⁸⁶it 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 party, a point of honour, the excitement of a game, or a consequence of ²⁸⁷soreness or annoyance occasioned by the acrimony or narrowness of apologists for religion, to prove that Christianity or that Scripture is untrustworthy. Many scientific and literary men, on the other hand, go on, I am confident, in a straightforward impartial way, in their own province and on their own line of thought, without any disturbance from religious opinion²⁸⁸ in themselves, or any wish at all to give pain to others by the result of their investigations. It would ill become

353

(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 353.

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 din duty) to take cognizance of its teaching. But putting these particular classes of men aside, as having no special pall on the sympathy of the Catholic, of course he does most deeply cuter into the feelings of a fourth and large class of men, in the educated portions of society, of religious and

io 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 nod 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 saeviant," &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.

2o Catholics have in their thoughts followed such men, many of them so good, so true, so noble ! how often has the wish risen in their hearts that some one from among themselves 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,

30 but it is by fits and _ starts ; hypotheses rise and fall ; it, is, difficult to anticipate which (of them) will keep their ground, and what the 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 commit 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;

20 Catholics have in their] a Catholic 'has in his 22 their hearts] his heart 22 from among 1864, 1865] among 1864 (another copy). "" ~ i emselves] h'is own people

354

GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

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 [of all others], 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 Io what had so the 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 teaching us that true wisdom, zo which Moses inculcated on his people, when the Egyptians were pursuing them, " Fear ye not, stand still; the Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace." And so far from finding a difficulty 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 distance, and as history represents it to us. Nothing carried on by human instruments, but has its irregularities, and 30 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

Lhave,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.

9 the more I thought 1864, 2865] as I thought more 1864 (another copy) 12 authority) .Authority 16 further 1884, 1866] more 1864 (another copy).

355

POSITION OF MY MIND SINOE 1846.) 356 Can, then, the infallible authority, with any show of reason, be said in fact to have destroyed the energy of the (Catholic) intellect [in the Catholic Church]? 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 [such], (and that,) because the secular sciences, as they now east, 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 " egceptio probat regulam : " for' it is the one stock argument. Again, I hake not to speak` of any relations of the Church to the new sciences, because my simple question (all along) is 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 [by its acts] 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. It is hardly necessary to argue out so plain a point. It is individuals; and not the Holy See; who have taken the initiative, and given the lead to (the) Catholic minds], inthealogicaLinquiry. -Indeesl,itis~nd of the reproaches urged against the Church of Rome, that i it has originated nothing, and has only served as a sort of remora 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 extra ordinary gift. It is said, and truly, that the Church of Rome possessed no great mind in the whole period of> 15 is whether]'has been whether 27 It is hardly, commenced a new paragraph in 1865. 29 who have 1864] which has 1864 (another copy), that have 1866. 31 Church of Rome] Roman Church

356

356 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

persecution. Afterwards for a long while, it has not a single doctor to show; St. Leo, its first, is the teacher of one point of doctrine; St. Gregory, who stands at the very extremity of the first age of the Church, 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. (Moreover, of the African divines, the first in order of time, and not io 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 independent mind of Jerome has enriched his own vigorous commentaries on Scripture, from the stores of the scarcely orthodox Eusebius. Heretical questionings have been transmuted by the living power of the Church into salutary truths.) The case is the same as regards the Ecumenical Councils. Authority so 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, sometimes young and of inferior rank. Not that uninspired intellect overruled the superhuman gift which was committed to the Council, which would be a self-contradictory assertion, but that in that process of inquiry and deliberation, which ended in an infallible enunciation, individual reason was paramount. Thus '(Malchion, a mere presbyter, was the instrument of so the great Council of Antioch in the third century in meeting-and refuting, for the assembled Fathers, the heretical Patriarch of that see. Parallel . a. . against the Greeks.) (At Trent,) the writings of St. $onaventura, and, what is more to the point, the address of a Priest and theologian, Salnieron, [at Trent,] had a critical effect on some of the definitions of dogma[s]'. Parallel to this (instance) is the influence, so well known, of a young deacon, St. Athanasius,

33 (Parallel . .. . against the Greeks.) In 1864 this passage had been placed later in the paragraph; to follow the remark on St. Bonaventura

and Salmeron. -

357

(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE -1845.) 357

with the 318 Fathers at Nicaea. In like manner we hear of [the influence of] St. Anselm at Bari, (as the champion of the Council there held, against the Greeks) [and St. Thomas at Lyons]. In the latter cases the influence might be partly moral, but in the former it was that of a discursive knowledge of ecclesiastical writers, a scientific acquaintance with theology, and a force of thought in the treatment 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, affords 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 intellect of the educated class was more active, or rather more restless, than in the middle ages. And then again all through Church 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; Rome simply 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 year, and Rome is still silent. An appeal perhaps is next made to a seat of authority inferior to Rome ; 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

1 like manner we hear] mediaeval times we read 4 the latter] some of these 5 the former] others 18 Infallible] infallible

358

358 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

authority is tailed 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 xo about them, and) wishes to have them discussed. He is willing or rather would be thankful to give them up, if they 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 fighting, as the Persian soldiers, under the lash, and the zo 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 rightly 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 ao 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 [individual] reason :-the multitude of nations who are in the fold of the Church will be found to have acted for its protection, against any narrowness, if so, in the various authorities at Rome, with whom lies

25 rightly] advisably 37 who are in] which are within 39 if so] on the supposition of narrowness

359

(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 359

the practical decision of controverted questions. How

have the Greek traditions been respected and provided for

in the later Ecumenical Councils, in spite of the countries

that held them being in a state of schism ! There 'axe

important points of doctrine which have been (humanly

speaking) exempted from the infallible sentence, by the

tenderness with which its instruments, in framing it, have

treated the opinions of particular places. Then, - again;

such national influences have a providential effect in

io moderating the bias which the local influences of Italy

may exert upon the See of St. Peter. It stands to reason

that, as the Gallican Church has in it an element of France,

so Rome 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 plainly.

It seems to me, as I have been saying, that 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!

2o that the Church should be contracted in Europe within

the range of particular nationalities. It is a great idea to

introduce Latin civilization into America, and to improve

the Catholics there by the energy of French Religion;

but I trust that all European races will have ever

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 evil. And certainly;

if there is one consideration more than another which

should make us English grateful to Pius the Ninth, it is

so that, by giving us a Church of our own, he has prepared

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 suspicions which are attached in this country to the Catholic Priest hood. It is one of which my accuser says much,( )the 12 an element of France] a French element 23 Religion] devotedness 24 have ever] ever have 27 evil] misfortune

360

GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY. charge of reserve and economy. He founds 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(3), [I leave the greater part of what I,have to say to an Appendix. Here I will but say that] it is founded upon the words of our Lord, " Cast not your pearls before swine; " and it was observed lo by the early Christians more or less in their intercourse with the heathen populations among whom they lived. In the midst of the abominable idolatries and impurities of that fearful time, they could not do otherwise. But the rule [of the Economy], 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 possibly under- zo stand 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 Christians 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, and so also is a representative truth. And this, I think, is about the long and the short of the so 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 J now believe that he, as other early Fathers, thought 1 He founds] They found 7 Footnote an 1865. (' Vide Note F, The Economy. 14 they could not do otherwise] the Rule of the Economy was an imperative duty 21 angels] Angels 14-15 the rule] that rule 29 and so also is] as is also

361

(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 361

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 surrounded with considerable difficulty; and it is not

n e that h d a n d i difficulty; a sh s gre t er'am P~r~y, wrl s 8i orm at at 'n~ co g t* he Ion th e 7-t 0 ita ' en pr 0 S S t~outh n ur , 0 ev s y s? tra g I , 0 'are ' *mply d c i e a a e r R An ve am 0 brought to the diree n e s to a he is a owable. d th et question of truth, and (of) the truthfulness of Catholic

10 priests generally in their dealings with 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 the subject; what I shall do here, as I have done in the foregoing pages, is to give my own testimony on the matter m question, and there to leave it. Now first I will say, that, when I 'became a Catholic, nothing struck me more

zo at once than the English out-spoken manner of the Priests. It was the same at Oscott, at Old Hall green, at Ushayv; there was nothing of that smoothness, or mannerism; which is commonly imputed to them, and they were more natural and unaffected, than many an Anglican clergyman. The many years, wich 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,'

30 And next, I was struck, when I had more opportunity of judging of the Priests, by the simple faith in the Catholic 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 instance 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 case's, when a man

16-16 the subject] this question

N3

362

362 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

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 Protestants in this point of view. What do they

gain by professing a Creed, in which, if my assailant is to be believed, they really do not believe? What is their reward for committing themselves to a life of self-restraint and toil, and after all 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, io 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 aweinspiring infliction. If priests did not heartily believe in

the Creed of the Church; then I will say that the remark of the Apostle had its fullest illustration ..- If in this life ao 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 sacrifice 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 dying without the Sacraments

through his fault is terrible to him ; why terrible, if he so 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 priesthood; 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 themselves.

5-6 my assailant is . . . believed] their enemies are . . . credited - 8 after all] perhaps 18 priests] they

363

(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 363

But is it an excellence which can be purchased? 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, 6,nd infuses a prompt obedience to rule, as if they were under soma 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 whit 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 my accuser especially throws into) our teeth, I shall [in a very few words bring these observations to a close.

it. 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 a special case, and may even be confirmed 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 character better ; but, in, saying so, I am not, 3o as will (shortly) be seen, saying any thing disrespectful 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.

Now I make this remark first:-great English authors, 17-18 my accuser . . . throws] by our accusers is . . . thrown 21-3 that is . . . hearer,] (that is . . . hearer,) 24 a special 1864] an extreme 1864 (another copy), an extraordinary 1865 29 English character] English rule of conduct

364

364 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

Jeremy Taylor, Milton, Paley, Johnson, men of very distinct schools of thought, distinctly say, that under certain special circumstances it is allowable to tell a lie. Taylor sags . 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, bath 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, Milton says

" ° What man in his senses would deny, that there are those io whom we have the best grounds for considering that we ought to deceive,-as boys, madmen, the sick, the intoxi cated, enemies, men in error, thieves ? I would ask, by which of the commandments is a lie forbidden? You will say, by the ninth. If then my lie does not injure my neighbour, certainly it is not-forbidden by this command ment." Paley says : " There are falsehoods, - 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, zo a murderer should ask you which way a man is gone."

Now, I am not using these instances as an avrgumentum ad -hominenn ; but [this is] the use 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 forming 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 society, would he ai 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 ? If a copy of Scavini, which speaks of equivocation as being in a just cause allowable, be found in a student's room at Oseott, 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.

1 2 distinct] different 3 special 1864] extreme 1864 (another copy), extraordinary 1866. 23 use] purpose

365

(POSITION OF MY MIND [SINCE 1845.) 365

Are all Protestant text-book's(, which are used) at the University(,) immaculate? 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, if you would not scruple in holding 1o Palsy 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 person be odious to you, as well as his doctrine ?

Now I wish to tell you why you are not afraid of Palsy ; because, you would say, when he advocated Iying, he was taking special cases. You would have no fear of a man so who you knew had shot a burglar dead in his own house, hP~.nge you know you are not a burglar : so you would pink that Palsy had a habit of telling 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 special 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 Palsy, why does Jeremy Taylor, when no practical matter is (actually) before him, lay down a maxim about the lawfulness of lying, which will startle 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

9 if] since

19 special 1864] extreme 1864 (another copy), extreme or special 1865. 26 special 1864] extreme 1864 (another copy), extraordinary 2865.

366

368 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

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 subject, 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 mast not suppose that a philo- lo sopher 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 may write a treatise which zo would be called 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 was betrayed into the commission of what seemed like a deceit, though it was an accident; and that so 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 mistaken regarding the sense of one document, which constituted the right of the adverse party. The advocate of the Grand Duke perceived the mistake, but he allowed Alfonso to

20 may] might 21 would be called] was

367

(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 367

continue his eloquent address to the end without inter-' ruption; 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, overwhelmed with confusion, his head sunk on his breast, he said to himself, `--World, I know you now ; courts of l.aw, never shall you see me again ! ' And turning his back on the assembly, he withdrew to his own house, incessantly 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 discovered 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 trying

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 perfectly

368

368 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY.

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 difficulty which Catholic books of moral theology so often cause to the Protestant. They are intended for the Confessor, and Protestants view them to as intended for the Preacher.

2. And I observe upon Taylor, Milton, and Paley thus

What would a Protestant clergyman 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 [so taught] ? Why, he would sharply retort, " I am not bound by Taylor or Milton ; " and if I went on urging that " Taylor was one of his authorities," he would answer that Taylor was a great writer, but great writers were not therefore infal- 2o lible. 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 follow Cardinal Gerdil, and Natalis Alexander, nay, St. Augustine. T will quote one passage from Natalis Alexander:-" They certainly lie, who utter the ° words of an oath, without the will to swear or bind them- 30 selves: or who make use of mental reservations and equi vocations 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." Nor should any consideration make me say so myself. I do not think 40 St. Alfonso would in his own case have said so ; and he

369

(POSITION Oh' MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 369

would have been as much shocked at Taylor and Paley, as Protestants are at him(2).

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 catechisms. 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 Catechism of the Council of Trent was drawn up for the express purpose of providing preachers 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 shaft 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 admonished 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 compliment, though to no one there accrues loss or gain in consequence, nevertheless is altogether unworthy: for thus the Apostle admonishes, ` Putting aside lying, speak ye truth.' For therein is great danger of lapsing into frequent 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 credit to their words, they find it necessary to make a practice of swearing:

" Nothing is more necessary ([for us]) than truth of testimony, in those things, which we neither know ourselves, nor can allowably be ignorant of, on which point there is extant that maxim of St. Augustine's ; Whoso

2 Footnote in 1865. (E Vide Note G, Lying and Equivocation.) 11 sermons] Sermons 15 veracity] Veracity 31 credit] credence 33 These [ ] are in the 1865 edition. _7 11, T, "I I I MR!

370

370 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR. KINGSLEY. 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 interrogated by the judge according to law, the truth is wholly to be brought out. " Witnesses, however, must beware, lest, from over- confidence in their memory, they affirm for certain, what they have not verified. io " 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 so 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 punishments. 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, dishonours Him by lying. 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 so incurable. " Moreover, there is this harm too, and one of vast extent, 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 confusion follows in life, so that men seem in nothing to differ from devils. " Lastly, the Parish Priest will set those right who excuse their insincerity and allege the example of wise 18, 19 These [ ] are in the 1864 and 1865 editions.

371

(POSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.) 371

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 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."

10 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 they are the words of a Father. They will serve to bring, my work to a conclusion. `

" St. Philip," says the Roman Oratorian who wrote his Life, " had a particular dislike of affectation both in him-

20 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 two-faced persons, who did not go simply and straightforwardly to work in their transactions.

30 " As for liars, he could not endure them, and he was continually 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.

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

15-16 they are the words . . . They] it is the teaching . . . It

372

372 GENERAL ANSWER TO MR., KINGSLEY.

affection 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 BITTLErSTON, EDWARD CASWALL, WILLIAM PAINE NEVILLE, and HENRY IC#NATIUS DUDLEY RYDER ? W110 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 io 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 [by] deed; and of all these, thus various in their relations to me, those more especially who have since joined the Catholic 3o 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.

May 26, 1864. - In Festo Corp. Christ. 27 younger 1864, 1866] young 1864 (another copy). 20

373

APPENDIX. (1864.)

ANSWER IN DETAIL TO MR. KINGSLEY'S

ACCUSATIONS.

374

375

APPENDIX. ANSWER IN DETAIL TO MR. KINGSLEY'S ACCUSATIONS. ,

IN proceeding now, according to the engagement with which I entered upon my undertaking, to examine in detail the Pamphlet which has been written against me, I am very sorry to be obliged to say, that it is as slovenly and random and futile in its definite charges, as it is iniquitous in its method of disputation. And now I proceed to show this without any delay; and shall consider in order,

1. My Sermon on the Apostolical Christian. 2. My Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence. 3. The Anglican Church. 4. The Lives of the English Saints. 5. Ecclesiastical Miracles. 6. Popular Religion. 7. The Economy. 8. Lying and Equivocation. Appendix. 1884] Notes. 1865 The matter between [ ], pp. 375-7, was not reprinted in 1865.

376

APPENDIX. (Not reprinted in 1865.)

My Sermon on " The Apostolical Christian," being the 19th

of " Sermons on Subjects of the Day."

This writer says, " What Dr. Newman means by Christians . . . he has not left in doubt;" and then, quoting a passage from this Sermon which speaks of " the humble monk and the holy nun " being " Christians after the very pattern given us in Scripture," he observes, " This is his definition of Christians."-p. 28.

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

What I have said is, that monks and nuns are patterns of Christian perfection; and that Scripture itself supplies us with this pattern. Who can deny this ? Who is bold enough to say that St. John Baptist, who, I' suppose, is a Scripture Character, is not a pattern-monk; and that Mary, who " sat at our Lord's feet," was not a patternnun ? and " Anna too, who served God with fastings and prayers night and day ? " Again, what is meant but this by St. Paul's saying, " It is good for a man not to touch 20

a woman ? " and, when speaking of the father or guardian -of a young girl, " He that -giveth her in marriage doeth well ; but he that giveth her not in marriage doeth better ? ' And what does St. John mean but to praise virginity, when he says of the hundred forty and four thousand on Mount Sion, " These are they which were not defiled with women, for they are virgins ? " And what else did our Lord mean, when He said, " There be eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake. He that is able to receive it, let him receive it ? " 30

377

APPENDIX. 377

" monks and nuns find their pattern in Scripture: " he adds, Therefore I hold all Christians are monks and nuns.

This is Blot one. how then for Blot two.

Monks and nuns the only perfect Christians . . . what more? "-p. 29.

A second fault in logic. I said no more than that monks and nuns were perfect Christians : he adds, Therefore " monks and nuns are the only perfect Christians." Monks

lo and nuns are not the only perfect Christians ; I never thought so or said so, now or at any other time.

P. 57. " In the Sermon . . . monks and nuns are spoken of as the only true Bible Christians." This, again, is not the case. What I said is, that " monks and nuns are Bible Christians : " it does not follow, nor did I mean, that " all Bible Christians are monks and nuns." Bad logic again. Blot three.]

378

378 APPENDIX 2.

[MY] SERMON ON " WISDOM AND INNOCENCE "[, BEING. THE

20Tn OF " SERMONS ON SUBJECTS OF THE DAY "~.

(TsE professed basis of the charge of lying and equivocation 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 Innocence," 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

` C~tians' and ` the Church.') [This writer says, p. 28, about 10 my Sermon 20,] By the world appears to be signified, especially, the Protestant 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 m Scripture, 8cc.' . . . 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 m his own words

` What, for instance, though we grant that sacramental confession 20 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 P for how can the Church be one body without such relation? ' "-P. 28.

(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?) [He also asks, p, 33] Why

was it preached? [ . . ] (To insinuate that a Church which had sacramental confession and a celibate clergy was the only true Church 7 ao

Or) to insinuate, that the admiring young gentlemen, who listened to him, stood to their fellow-countrymen in the relation of the early

2. (in heading)] Note C. On page 260. -- - --- ---- --

379

APPENDIX. 379

Christians to the heathen Romans? Or that Queen Victoria's Government was to the Church of England, what Nero's or Dioelesian's was to the Church of Rome 2 It may have been so.["]

[May or may not, it wasn't. He insinuates, what not even with his little finger does he attempt to prove. Blot four.

He asserts, p. 29, that I said in the Sermon in question, that " Sacramental Confession and the celibacy of the clergy are ` notes ' of the Church." And, just before, he puts the word " notes " in inverted commas, as if it was

io mine. That is, he garbles. It is not mine. Blot five.

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

1. He says that I teach that the celibacy of the clergy enters into the definition of the Church. I do no such thing; that is the blunt truth. Define the Church by the celibacy of the clergy! why, let him read 1 Tim. iii. ; there he will find that bishops and deacons are spoken of as married. How, then, could I be the dolt to say or

zo imply that the celibacy of the clergy was a part of the definition of the Church ? Blot six.

And again in p. 57, " In the Sermon a celibate clergy is made a note of the Church.". Thus the untruth is repeated. Blot seven.

2. And now for Blot eight. Neither did I say that

Sacramental confession " was " a note of the Church." Nor is it. Nor could I with any cogency have brought this as an argument against the Church of England, for the Church of England has retained Confession, nay,

ao Sacramental Confession: No fair man can read the form of Absolution in the Anglican Prayer in the Visitation of the Sick, without seeing that that Church does sanction and provide for Confession and Absolution. If that form does not contain the profession of a grave Sacramental act, words have no meaning. The form is almost in the words of the Roman form ; and, by the time that this Clergyman has succeeded in explaining it away, he will

4 The matter between [], pages 379 to 380 line 12, was not reprinted in 1866.

380

------------------------- 380 APPENDIX.

have also got skill enough to explain away the Roman form; and if he did but handle my words with that latitude with which he interprets his own formularies, he would prove that, instead of my being superstitious and frantic, I was the most Protestant of preachers and the most latitudinarian of thinkers. It would be charity in him, in his reading of my words, to use some of that power of evasion, of which he shows himself such a master in his dealing with his own Prayer Book. Yet he has the assurance at p. 33 to ask, " Why was the Sermon preached ? io to insinuate that a Church which had sacramental confession and a celibate clergy was the only true Church? "]

(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 withdrawn again. I do not blame him 20 for that. It is one of the highest triumphs of oratorio 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 fond 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 so 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 ao 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

12 The matter between [ ], pp. 379, line 4 to 380, was not reprinted in 1866. 13 1 know that men In 1866 this followed what is here page 379 line 3.

381

APPENDIX. 381

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 Mawworm, ` 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 blind to the broad meaning and the plain practical result of a Sermon like this, delivered 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 becoming affected, artificial, sly, shifty, ready for concealments and equivocations ? " &c. &c.-Pp. 33, 34.

(My accuser asked in this passage what did the Sermon mean, and why was it preached. I will here answer this, question;) [" Why ? " I will tell the reader, why;] and with this view will speak, first of the contents of the Sermon, then of its subject, then of its circumstances.

1. It was one of the Mast six Sermons which I wrote when I was an Anglican. 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 so 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 Advertisement[, which this truth-loving writer suppresses. Blot nine.

My words, which stared him in the face, are as follows] (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

19 contents] matter 20 subject . . . circumstances] subject . . . circumstances 36 [These Sermons] The [ ] are the Author's.

382

382 APPENDIX.

introduce into the instruction delivered in Church to a parochial Congregation. Such introduction, 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 lo I added upon -my publishing them. (and, as) I always was on my guard in the pulpit of saying any thing which looked towards Rome; and therefore all his rhetoric about my " disciples," " admiring young gentlemen who listened to me," " fanatic and hot-headed young men, who hung upon my every word," becomes simple rubbish.

(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 ao form a portion of the Anglican Visitation of the 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 lawful for them to marry," this proposition I did not dream of denying, nor is it inconsistent 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,-[p. 33,] " I,know that men used to suspect Dr. New- ao man,-I have been inclined to do so myself,--of writing a whole Sermon, not fog the sake of the text or, of the matter, but for_ the sake of, one simple passing hint,-one phrase, one epithet." (Now 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 Tractarian doctrine has been accused of not

11 them.] them; 12 of] against

13-18 Rome; . . rubbish] Rome, I shall believe.that I did not' preach the obnoxious.sentenoe till some ono is found to testify that he heard it

383

(NOTE C.) 383

letting his parishioners alone, and of teasing them with his private theological notions. [You would gather from the general tone of this Writer that that was my way. Every one who was in the habit of hearing me, knows that it wasn't. This Writer either knows nothing about it, and then he ought to be silent; or he does know, and then he ought to speak the truth. Others spread] the same report (was spread about me) twenty years ago as he does now, and the world believed that my Sermons at St. Mary's were

io 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 Sermon. T recollect how, when on the Sunday before Commemoration 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

zo 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,, 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 (luring, the delivery of a Sermon, which to them was too practial to be useful, for the concealed point of it, which

ao they could at least--imagine, if they could not discover. " Men used to suspect Dr. Newman," he says, " of writing a whole Sermon, not for the sake of the text or of the matter, but for . the sake of (on'e single passing hint,) .

one phrase, one epithet, one little barbed arrow, which, as he swept magnificently past on the stream of his ca DI eloquence, seemingly unc iou a e ences, sal

8 0 H r s v e p 3 T t 0 d liv r p s resences so se s me p h e een' h e ed eeded all app~ t ~ ancei he ay 'I wa n 0 iou 0 a i W so s k nd riter supplies the true interpretation of this 8 he does] this writer spreads

384

384 APPENDIX.

unconsciousness.] He is not able to deny that " the whole Sermon " had the appearance of being " for the sake of the text and matter; " therefore he suggests that perhaps it wasn't. [And then he emptily talks of the " magnificent sweep of my eloquence," and my " oratorio power." Did he forget that the Sermon of which he thus speaks can be read by others as well as him? Now, the sentences are as short as Aristotle's, and as grave as Bishop Butler's. It is written almost in the condensed style of Tract 90. Eloquence there is none. I put this down as Blot ten.] to

2. And now as to the subject of the Sermon. The series of which the Volume consists are such [Sermons] 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. They were for the most part caused by circumstances of the day or of the time, 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 20 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 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, ao 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 Volume (of Parochial), written in 1835. [Then,] on the other hand, by Church I meant, in common with all writers con-, netted with the Tract Movement, whatever their shades of opinion, and with the whole body of English divines, except those of the Puritan or Evangelical School,-the

12 series] Sermons 17 time] moment

385

NOTE C.) 385

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. 168-171 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 Norman as one with the Caroline

io Church. This 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 necessarily belong[ed] 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

20 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,-as Mahomet with his sword and his houris, 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,

ao 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

40 which they witnessed must arise from some evil secret which the world had not mastered,-by means of magic,

APOLOGIA

386

APPENDIX.

as they said in the first ages, by cunning as they say now. And accordingly they thought that the humility and inoffensiveness 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 lo the real causes of its success, were of course under the reason for conscience and

of substituting temptation , instead of simply obeying the command, were led to do good that good might come, that is, to act in order to their 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 more subtle shape has got into the Church ; and hence it has come to pass, that, looking at its history from first to last, we cannot possibly draw the line between good and evil ao there, and say either that every thing is to be defended, or some things to be condemned. I expressed the difficulty, which I supposed to be inherent in the Church, in the follow ing words. I said, " P riestcraft has ever been considered the badge, and its imputation is a kind of Note of the Church ; and in part indeed truly, because the presence of powerful enemies, and the sense of their own weakness, has sometimes tempted Christians to the abuse, instead of the use of Christian wisdom, to be wise without being harmless ; but partly, nay, for the most part, not truly, but slan- 33 derously, and merely-because the world called their wisdom craft, when it was found to be a match for its own numbers and power." [This passage he has partly garbled,,partly omitted. Blot eleven.]

Such is the substance of the Sermon : and as to the main drift of it, it was this; that I was, there and elsewhere, 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

14 their] secure 18 has (twice)] had 20 cannot] could not 21 is ] was 22 some] certain

387

(NOTE C.) 387 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[, I repeat,] as a Sermon of Bishop w__m__~_ tr_w ___a__ w_~ __, .

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 especially oppressed me at that season, which this Writer, twenty

io years afterwards, has set himself with a good will to renew: it arose from the sense of the base calumnies which were thrown upon me on all sides. (It is worth observing that this Sermon is exactly contemporaneous with the report spread by a Bishop (vid. supr. p. 275), 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 this trouble of mind (into which I was thrown by such calumnies as this,) I gained, while- I reviewed the history of the

zo 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 primes were imputed, and reconciled me to difficulties in ecclesiastical proceedings, which there were

ao 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

12 thrown] heaped 17 this] the

388

388 APPENDIX.

heaping on me the very charges, which this Writer repeats out of my Sermon, of " fraud and cunning," " craftiness and deceitfulness," " double-dealing," " priestcraft," of being " mysterious, 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 feeling." 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 io honest heartfelt submission to authority had been called, as it was called in a colonial Bishop's charge, " 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 sensitiveness about these things which jarred ~ upon my sense of justice, and otherwise would have been too much for me, by the contemplation of a large law of the Divine Dispensation, and found myself more and more able to bear in. my own person a present 20 trial, of which in my past writings I had expressed an

anticipation.

For thus feeling and thus speaking this Writer has the charitableness and the decency to call me " Mawworm." " I found him telling Christians," 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-countrymen) disown, and say with Maw- 30 worm, ` 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 delivered before fanatic and hot-headed young men, who hung upon his every word? "-[p. 34. Hotheaded young men! why, man, you are writing a Romance. You think the scene is Alexandria or the Spanish main, where you may let your imagination play revel to the extent of inveracity. It is good luck for me that the

12 colonial] foreign 19 found) felt 23-24 has the charitableness and the decency to call me) compares me to

389

(NOTE C.)

scene of my labours was not at Moscow or Damascus. Then I might be one of your ecclesiastical Saints, of which I sometimes hear in conversation, but with whom, I am glad to say I have no personal acquaintance. Then you might ascrife to me a more deadly craft than mere quibbling and lying; in Spain I should have been an Inquisitor, with my rack in the background; I should have had a concealed dagger in Sicily; at Venice I should have brewed poison; in Turkey I should have been the Sheik-el-Islam

lo with my bowstring; in Khorassan I should have been a veiled Prophet. " Fanatic young men! " Why he is writing out the list of a Dramatis Personae ; " guards, conspirators, populace," and the like. He thinks I was ever moving about with a train of Capulets at my heels.] ["] Hot-headed fanatics, who hung on my every word ! ["] If he had (under)taken to write a history, and not a play, he would have easily found out, as I have said (above), that from 18411 had severed myself from the younger generation of Oxford, that Dr. Pusey and I had then closed our theo-

zo logical 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 known, 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 ruthlessly tearing myself away from my own

ao 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. [Blot twelve.]

I proceed: he says [at p. 33], " I found him actually using of such [prelates], (and, as I thought, of himself and his party likewise,) the words ` They yield outwardly; to assent inwardly were to betray the faith. Yet they are called deceitful end double-dealing, because they do as

15 Hot-headed fanatics] Fanatic and hot-headed young men 18 play] romance 26 known] found 34 1 proceed:] Again, 35 [prelates] These are .Dr. Newman'a [ ]

390

390 APPENDIX.

much as they can, not more than they may.' " This too is a proof of my duplicity ! Let this writer [go] (, 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 convicted; and lest 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 io 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, " because 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 20 day and the private letters which accused me of shuttling, because I closed the Series of Tracts, yet kept the Tracts on sale, as if I ought to comply not only with what my Bishop 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 ao themselves against the persecuting Protestant public."-

p. 34. [Blot thirteen.]

And now I draw attention to another point. He says [at p. 34], " How was I to know that the preacher . . . did not foresee, that [fanatic and hot-headed young men] would think that they obeyed him, by becoming affected, artificial, sly, shifty, ready for concealments and equivoca tions ? " " How should he know ! " What! I suppose

28 Catholic opinions"] `Catholic opinions' 29 " Salvation . . _ . ,. , . .,~ ., , .. ,____ .,r ~___ _~

391

(NOTE C.) 391 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 amphibologia of the Roman casuists? Has he a single fact which belongs to me personally or by profession to couple my name with equivocation in 1843? "How should he know" that I was not sly, smooth, artificial, non-natural! he should know by that common manly frankness, [if he had it,] 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 expressly), "I do not deny that there is something very engaging in a frank and unpretending manner; some persons have it more than others; in some persons it is a great grace. But it must be recollected that I am speaking of times of persecution and oppression to Christians, such as the text foretells; and then surely frankness will become nothing else than indignation at the oppressor, and vehement speech, if it is permitted. Accordingly, as persons have deep feelings, so they will find the necessity of self-control, lest they should say what they ought not." [He omits these words. I call, then, this base insinuation that I taught equivocation. Blot the fourteenth.]

[Lastly,] he sums up thus:(-) "If [Dr. Newman] would . . . persist (as in this Sermon) in dealing with matters dark, offensive, doubtful, sometimes actually forbidden, at least according 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

6 Has] Had 15 "I do not deny These words commenced a new paragraph in 1865 . 23 feelings] feelings 28 He sums up These words commenced a new paragraph in 1865. 28 [Dr. Newman] These are Dr. Newman's [ ]

392

392 APPENDIX.

wonder if the minds of men were filled with suspicions of him? "-p. 35.

Now [first] (, 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, offensive, doubtful, actually forbidden ? [he has said nothing in proof that I have not been able flatly to deny.

[" Forbidden according to the notions of the great lo majority of English Churchmen." I should like to know what opinions, beyond those which relate to the Creed, are held by the " majority of English Churchmen: "-are his own ? is it not perfectly well known, that " the great majority " think of him and his views with a feeling which I will not describe, because it is not necessary for my argument ? So far is certain, that he has not the majority with him.

[" In a tentative, paltering way." The word " paltering " I reject, as vague ; as to " tentative,"] he must zo show that I was tentative in my Sermons; and he has (the range of) eight volumes to look through. 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 allowably, 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 ao a man cannot do more; and I account no man to be a philosopher who attempts to do more. .[How long am I to have the office of merely negativing assertions which are but supported by former assertions, in which John is ever helping Tom, and the elephant stands upon the tortoise ? This is Blot fifteen.]

20 he must] He must 22 look through] gather evidence in

393

NOTE E.). 3. The Anglican Church. 393

[This Writer says:-" If there is, as there is; a strong distrust of certain Catholics, it is restricted to the proselytizing priests among them; and especially to those, who, like Dr. Newman, have turned round upon their mother Church, (I had almost said their mother country,) with contumely and slander."-p. 36.

[No one has a right to make a charge, without at least an attempt to prove what he says; but thus Writer is consistent with himself. From the time that he first spoke io of me in the Magazine, when has he ever even professed to give evidence of any sort for any one of his charges, from his own sense of propriety, and without being challenged on the point? After the sentence which~I have been quoting; and another like it, he coolly passes on to Tract 90 ! Blot sixteen; but I shall dwell on it awhile, for its own sake.]

[Now] I have been bringing out my mind in this Volume on every subject which has come before me ; and therefore I am bound to state plainly what I feel and wave felt, since I was a Catholic, about the Anglican Church. I said, so 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 ease 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 eves imagined, it to be a portion of the Catholic Church. For the first time, I looked at it from without, and (as I should so myself say) saw it as it was. Forthwith I could not get myself to see in it any thing else, than what I had so ;long

3. (%n heading)] Note E. On page _318.

03

394

394 APPENDIX

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 io myself into a position, but my mind fell back upon itself in relaxation and in peace, and I gazed at her almost passively as a great objective fact. I looked at her ; at her rites, her ceremonial, and her precepts ; and I said, " This is 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 esthetically, it seemed to -me to be the veriest of nonentities. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity ! How can I make a zu 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 in any disdain, though to them I seem contemptuous. To them of course it is " Aut Caesar cut nullus," but not to me. It may be a great creation, though it be not divine, and this is how so 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 witness and teacher of religious truth. I do not think that, if what I have written about it since I have been a Catholic,

395

(NOTE E.) 395

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 mind on my conversion, and which it would be almost a miracle to reproduce. " I went by, and to ! 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 possession of an episcopal succession from the time of the Apostles, well, it may have it, and, if the Holy See ever so decide[d], 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,

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

Qo received so much good from the Anglican Establishment itself, can I have the heart, or rather the want of charity,

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APPENDIX.

considering that it does for so many others, what it has 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 nothing against it. While Catholics are so weak in England, 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 io 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 Chuxch may fairly take up at present in relation 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 ao 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 went to weaken its hold upon the public mind, or to unsettle its establish- ao 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.

[I say, " except under the call of duty ; " and this exception, I am obliged to admit, is not a slight one;, it is one which necessarily places a bar to any closer relation between it and ourselves, than that of an armed truce., For, in the first place, it stands to reason that even a

28 , except] except 34 The matter between [], pp. 396-400 ,wae not reprinted in 1865.

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APPENDIX. 397

volume, such as this has been, exerts an influence adverse to the Establishment,-at least in the case of many minds; and this I cannot avoid, though I have sincerely attempted to keep as wide of controversy in the course of it, as ever I could. And next I cannot deny, what must be ever a very sore point with Anglicans, that, if any Anglican comes to me after careful thought and prayer, and with deliberate purpose, and says, " I believe in the Holy Catholic Church, and that your Church and yours alone is

io it, and I demand admittance into it," it would be the greatest of sins in me to reject such a man, as being a distinct contravention of our Lord's maxim, " Freely ye have received, freely give." .

I have written three volumes which may be considered controversial; Loss and Gain in 1847 ; Lectures on Difficulties felt by Anglicans in submitting to the Catholic Church in 1850 ; and Lectures on the present Position of Catholics in England in 1851. And though I have neither time nor need to go into the matter minutely, a few words

zo will suffice for some general account of what has been my object and my tone in these works severally.

Of these three, the Lectures on the " Position of Catholics" have nothing to do with the Church of England, as such; they are directed against the Protestant or Ultra-Protestant Tradition on the subject of Catholicism since the time of Queen Elizabeth, in which parties indeed in the Church of England have largely participated, but which cannot be confused with Anglican teaching itself. Much less can that Tradition be confused with the doctrine of

3o the Laudian or of the Tractarian School. I owe nothing to Protestantism; and I spoke against it even when I was an Anglican, as well as in these Catholic Lectures. If I spoke in them against the Church Established, it was because, and so far as, at the time when they were delivered, the Establishment took a violent part against the Catholic Church, on the basis of the Protestant Tradition. Moreover, I had never as an Anglican been a lover of the actual Establishment ; Hurrell Froude's Remains, in which it is called an " incubus " and " Upas Tree," will stand in

Qo evidence, as for him, so for me ; for I was one of the

398

398 APPENDIX. Editors. What I said even as an Anglican, it is not strange that I said when I was not. Indeed I have been milder in my thoughts of the Establishment ever since I have been a Catholic than before, and for an obvious reason when I was an Anglican, I viewed it as repressing a higher doctrine than its own; and now I view it as keeping out a lower and more dangerous. Then as to my Lectures on Anglican Difficulties. Neither were these formally directed against the National Church. They were addressed to the " Children of the Movement io of 1833," to impress upon them, that, whatever was the case with others, their duty at least was to become Catholics, since Catholicism was the real scope and issue of that Movement. " There is but one thing," I say, " that forces me to speak .... It will be a miserable thing for you and for me, if I have been instrumental in bringing you but half-way, if I have co-operated in removing your invincible ignorance, but am able to do no more."-p. 5. Such being the drift of the Volume, the reasoning directed against the Church of England goes no further than this, zo that it had no claims whatever on such of its members as were proceeding onwards with the Movement into the Catholic Church. Lastly, as to Loss and Gain: it is the story, simply ideal, of the conversion of an Oxford man. Its drift is to show how little there is in Anglicanism to satisfy and retain a young and earnest heart. In this Tale, all the best characters are sober Church-of-England people. No Tractarians proper are introduced : and this is noted in the Advertisement : " No proper mepresentRative is intended in so this Tale, of the religious opinions, which had lately so much influence in the University of Oxford." There could not be such in the Tale, without the introduction of friends, which was impossible in its very notion. But, since the scene was to be laid during the very years, and at the head-quarters, of Tractarianism, some expedient was necessary in order to meet what was a great difficulty. . My expedient was the introduction of what may be called Tractarians improper ; and I took them the more readily, because, though I knew that such there were, I knew ao none of them personally. I mean such men as I used to

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APPENDIX. 399

consider of " the gilt-gingerbread school," from whom I expected little good, persons whose religion lay in ritualism or architecture, and who " played at Popery" or at Anglicanism. I repeat I knew no such men, because it is one thing to desire fine churches and ceremonies, (which of course I did myself,) and quite another thing to desire these and nothing else; but at that day there was in some quarters, though not in those where I had influence, a strong movement in the esthetic direction. Doubtless I went too far in my apprehension of such a movement

for one of the best, and most devoted and hard-working Priests I ever knew was the late Father Hutchison, of the London Oratory, and I believe it was architecture that directed his thoughts towards the Catholic Church. However, I had in my mind an external religion which was. inordinate; and, as the men who were considered instances of it, were personally unknown to me, even by name, I introduced them, under imaginary representatives, in Loss and Gain, and that, in order to get clear of Tractarians proper ; and of the three men, whom I have introduced, the Anglican is the best. In like manner I introduced two " gilt-gingerbread " young ladies, who were ideal, absolutely, utterly, without a shred of concrete existence about them ; and I introduced them with the remark that they were " really kind charitable persons," and " by no means put, forth as a type of a class," that " among such persons were to be found the gentlest spirits and the tenderest hearts," and that " these sisters had open hands, if they had not wise heads," but that " they did not know much of matters ecclesiastical, and they knew less of themselves."

It has been said, indeed, I know not to what extent, that I introduced my friends or partisans into the Tale; this is utterly untrue. Only two cases of this misconception have come to my knowledge, and I at once denied each of them outright ; and I take this opportunity of denying generally the truth of all other similar charges. No friend of mine, no one connected in any way with the Movement, entered into the composition of any one of the characters. ~ Indeed, putting aside the two instances which have been distinctly brought before me, I have not

400

400 APPENDIX. even any sort of suspicion who the persons are, whom I am thus accused of introducing. Next, this writer goes on to speak of Tract 90; a subject of which I have treated at great length in a former passage of this narrative, and, in consequence, need not take up again now.]

401

APPENDIX. 4. Series of Lives of the English Saints. 401

[I have given the history of this publication above at pp. 302-304. It was to have consisted of almost 300 Lives, and I was to have been the Editor. It was brought to an end, before it was well begun, by the act of friends who were frightened at the first Life printed, the Life of St. Stephen Harding. Thus I was not responsible except for the first two numbers; and the Advertisements distinctly declared this. I had just the same responsibility about the other Lives, that my assailant had, and not

io a bit more. However, it answers his purpose to consider me responsible.

Next, I observe, that his delusion about " hot-headed fanatic young men " continues: here again I figure with my strolling company. " They said," he observes, " what they believed; at least, what they had been taught to believe that they ought to believe. And who had taught them? Dr. Newman can best answer that question," p. 38. Well, I will do what I can to solve the mystery. .

Now as to the juvenile writers in the proposed series.

zo One was my friend Mr. Bowden, who in 1843 was a man of 46 years old ; he was to have written St. Boniface. Another was Mr. Johnson, a man of 42 ; he was to have written St. Aldelm. Another was the author of St. Augustine : let us hear something about him from this writer :-

" Dr. Newman," he says, " might have said to the

Author of the Life of St. Augustine, whew-he--found-him;in the heat and haste of youthful fanaticism, outraging historic truth and the law of evidence, ` This must not be.' "-p. 38.

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

The matter between [ ], pp. 401-6, was not reprinted in 1865. 23 Aldeim cf. Aldhelm pp. 304, 606, 511.

402

402 APPENDIX.

But again, the author of St. Augustine's Life distinctly says in his Advertisement, " No one but himself is responsible for the way in which these materials have been used." Blot eighteen.

Thirty-three Lives were actually published. Out of the whole number this writer notices three. Of these one is " charming; " therefore I am not to have the benefit of it. Another " outrages historic truth and the law of evidence; " therefore " it was notoriously sanctioned by Dr. Newman." And the third was " one of the most io offensive," and Dr. Newman must have formally connected himself with it in " a moment of amiable weakness."p. 39. What even-handed justice is here ! Blot nineteen.

But to return to the juvenile author of St. Augustine :" I found," says this writer, " the' Life of St. Augustine saying, that, though the pretended visit of St. Peter to England wanted historic evidence, ` yet it has undoubtedly been received as a pious opinion by the Church at large, as we learn from the often-quoted words of St. Innocent I. (who wrote A.D. 416) that St. Peter was instrumental in zo the conversion of the West generally.' "-p. 39. ~ He brings this passage against me. (with which, however, I have nothing more to do than he has) as a great misdemeanour; but let us see what his criticism is worth. " And this sort of argument," continues the passage, " though it ought to be kept quite distinct from documentary and historic proof, will not be without its effect on devout minds," &c. I should have thought this a very sober doctrine, viz. that we must not confuse together two things quite distinct from each other, criticism and devotion, ao proof and opinion, that a devout mind will hold opinions which it cannot demonstrate by " historic proof." What, I ask, is the harm of saying this ? Is this my Assailant's definition of opinion, " a thing which can be proved ? " I cannot answer for him, but I can answer for men in general. Let him read Sir David Brewster's " More Worlds than One; "-this principle, which is so shocking to my assailant, is precisely the argument of Sir David's book; he tells us that the plurality of worlds cannot be proved, but will be received by religious men. He asks, p. 229, ao

- ------------- ------- ------

403

APPENDIX. 403 " If the stars are not suns, for what conceivable purpose were they created? " and then he lays down dogmatically, p. 254, " There is no opinion, out o f the region of pure demonstration, more universally cherished than the doctrine of the Plurality of worlds." And in his Title-page he styles this " opinion " " the creed of the philosopher and the hope of the Christian." If Brewster may bring devotion into Astronomy, why may not my friend bring it into History ? and that the more, when he actually declares

io that it'ought to be kept quite distinct from history, and by no means assumes that he is an historian because he is a hagiographer; whereas, somehow or other, Sir David does seem to me to show a zeal greater than becomes a savant, and to assume that he himself is a theologian because he is an astronomer. This writer owes Sir David as well as ~ me an apology. Blot twenty.

He ought to wish his original charge against me in the Magazine dead and buried; but he has the good sense and good taste to revive it again and again. This is one

so of the places which he has chosen for it. Let him then, just for a change, substitute Sir David Brewster for me in his sentence; Sir David has quite as much right to the compliment as I have, as far as this Life of St. Augustine is concerned. Then he will be saying, that, because Sir David teaches that the belief in more worlds than one is a pious opinion, and not a demonstrated fact, he " does not care for truth for its own sake, or teach men to regard it as a virtue," p. 38-9. Blot twenty-one.

~owever,- --he-goes--oW£o--gi`veun-this same __ -one

ao other evidence of my disregard of truth. The author of St. Augustine's Life also asks the following question

" On what evidence do we put faith in the existence of St. George, the patron of England ? Upon such, assuredly, as an acute critic or skil, fill pleader might easily scatter to the winds ; the belief of prejudiced or credulous witnesses, the unwritten record of empty pageants and bauble decora tions. On the side of scepticism might be exhibited a powerful array of suspicious legends and exploded acts. Yet, after all, what Catholic is there but would count it

404

APPENDIX. a profaneness to question the existence of St. George? "

On which my assailant observes, " When I found Dr. Newman allowing his disciples . . . in page after page, in Life after Life, to talk nonsense of this kind which is not only sheer Popery, but saps the very foundation of historic truth, was it so wonderful that T conceived him to have taught and thought like them ? " p. 39, that is, to have taught lying.

Well and good; here again take a parallel ; not St. George, but Lycurgus. io

Mr. Grote says: " Plutarch begins his biography of Lycurgus with the following ominous words: ` Concerning the lawgiver Lycurgus, we can assert absolutely nothing, which is not controverted. There are different stories in respect to his birth, his travels, his death, and also his mode of proceeding, political as well as legislative : least of all is the time in which he lived agreed on.' And this exordium is but too well borne out by the unsatisfactory nature of the accounts which we read, not only in Plutarch himself, but in those other authors, out of whom we are 20 obliged to make up our idea of the memorable Lycurgian system."-Greece, vol. ii. p. 455. But Bishop Thirlwall says, " Experience proves that scarcely any amount of variation, as to the time or circumstances of a fact, in the authors who record it, can be a sufflcient ground for doubting its reality."-Greece, vol. i. p. 332.

Accordingly, my assailant is virtually saying of the latter of these two historians, " When I found the Bishop of St. David's talking nonsense of this kind, which saps the very foundation of historic truth," was it " hasty or 30 far-fetched " to conclude " that he did not care for truth for its own sake; or teach his disciples to regard it as a virtue ? " p. 38-9. Nay, further, the Author of St. Augustine is no more a disciple of mine, than the Bishop of St. David's is of my Assailant's; and therefore the parallel will be more exact if I accuse this Professor of History of teaching Dr. Thirlwall not to care for truth, as a virtue, for its own sake. . Blot twenty-two. .

It is hard on me to have this dull, profitless work, but T have pledged myself ; so now for St. Walburga..

405

APPENDIX. 405

Now will it be believed that this Writer suppresses the fact that the miracles of St. Walburga are treated by the author of her Life as mythical? yet that is the tone of the whole composition. This Writer can notice it in the Life of St. Neot, the first of the three Lives which he criticizes ; these are his words : " Some of them, the writers, for instance, of Volume 4, which contains, among others, a charming life of St. Neot, treat the stories openly as legends and myths, and tell them as they stand, without

lo asking the reader, or themselves, to believe them altogether. The method is harmless enough, if the legends had stood alone; but dangerous enough, when they stand side by side with stories told in earnest, like that of St. Walburga." -p.40.

Now, first, that the miraculous stories are 'treated, in the Life of St. Walburga, as legends and myths. Throughout, the miracles and extraordinary occurrences are spoken of as " said " or " reported ; " and the suggestion is made that, even though they occurred, they might have been

zo after all natural. Thus, in one of the very passages which my Assailant quotes; the author says, " Illuminated men feel the privileges of Christianity, and to them the evil influence of Satanic power is horribly discernible, like the Egyptian darkness which could be felt; and the only way to express their keen perception of it is to say, that they see upon the countenances of the slaves of sin, the marks, and lineaments, and stamp of the evil one; and [that] they smell with their nostrils the horrible fumes that arise from their vices and uncleansed heart," &c., p. 78. This

ao introduces St.. Sturme and the gambolling Germans; what does it mean ut that " the intolerable scent-" was nothing physical, or strictly miraculous, but the horror, parallel to physical distress, with which the Saint was affected, from his knowledge of the state of their souls ? My assailant is a lucky man, if mental pain has never come upon him with a substance and a volume, as forcible as if it were bodily.

And so in like manner, the Author of the Life says, as this writer actually has quoted him, " a story was told and

27 These ( ] are in, 1864.

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APPENDIX.

believed," p. 94. " One evening, says her history," p. 87. " Another incident is thus related," p. 88. " Immediately, says Wiilfhard," p. 91. " A vast number of other cases are recorded," p. 92. And there is a distinct intimation that they may be myths, in a passage which this Assailant himself quotes, " All these have the character of a gentle mother correcting the idleness and faults of careless and thoughtless children with tenderness.' =p. 95. I think the criticism which he makes upon this Life is one of the most wanton passages in his Pamphlet. The Life is beautifully io written, full of poetry, and, as I have said, bears on its very surface the profession of a legendary and mythical character. Blot twenty-three.

In saying all this, I have no intention whatever of implying that miracles did not illustrate the Life of St. Walburga; but neither the Author nor I have bound ourselves to the belief of certain instances in particular. My Assailant, in the passage which I just now quoted from him, made some distinction, which was apparently intended to save St. Neot, while it condemned St. Walburga. Ire 20 said that legends are " dangerous enough, when they stand side by side with stories told in earnest like St. Walburga." He will find he has here Dr. Milman against him, as he has already had Sir David Brewster, and the Bishop of St. David's. He accuses me of having " outraged historic truth and the law of evidence," because friends of mine have considered that, though opinions need not be con victions, nevertheless that legends may be connected with history.- now, on the contrary, let us hear the Dean of St. Paul's : 30

" History, to be true, must condescend to speak the language of legend ; the belief of the times is part of the record of the times; and, though there may occur what may baffle its more calm and searching philosophy, it must not disdain that which was the primal, almost universal, motive of human life."-Latin. Christ., vol. i. p. 388. Dr. Milman's decision justifies me in putting this down as Blot twenty-four.]

38 The matter between [ ], pp. 401-6, was not reprinted in 1866.

407

(ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES.) 407

(So much for general principles;) [However, there is one miraculous account for which this writer makes me directly answerable, and with reason; and with it I shall conclude my reply to his criticisms on the " Lives of the English Saints."] (as to St. Walburga, though I have no intention at all of denying that numerous 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.

to I made, however, one exception;) It is the medicinal oil which flows from the relics of St. Walburga

[Now, as I shall have occasion to remark under my next Head, these two questions among others occur, in judging of a miraculous story; viz. whether the matter of it is extravagant, and whether it is a fact.] (Now as to the verisimilitude, the miraculousness, and the fact, of this medicinal oil.) And first, it is plain there is nothing extravagant in this report of the relics having a .supernatural virtue; and for this reason, because there are such

2o instances 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 east 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

so an inanimate substance, which had touched a living Saint

" And God wrought special miracles by the hands of Paul; so that from his body were, brought unto the sick handkerchiefs or aprons, and the diseases departed from them." ;And again .in the case of a pool: " An Angel went down at a certain season into the pool, and troubled the water; whosoever then first, after the troubling of the water, stepped in, was made whole of whatsoever disease he had."

li) is] was 11 the relics of St. Walburga] her relics ,17_ And first, it] 1. The verisimilitude. It Commencing anew paragraph.. 18 the relics] her relics

408

408 APPENDIX.

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.

[The main question then (I do not say the only remaining question, but the main question) is] (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 the Preface [to the Volume]. Of the accounts of medieval miracles, I said that there was no extravagance in their general character, but I could not affirm that there lo 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 impossible : but they were not proved to be true, because there was not trustworthy testimony. However, as to St. Walburga, I made one exception, the fact of the medicinal oil, since for that miracle there was distinct and successive testimony. And then I went on to give a chain of witnesses. It was my duty to state what those witnesses said in their very words ; [and I did so ; they were in Latin, and I gave zo them in Latin. One of them speaks of the " sacrum oleum " flowing " de -membris ejus virgineis, maxime tamen pectoralibus ; " and I so printed it ;-if I had left it out, this sweet-tempered Writer would have accused me of an " economy."] (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 so

renown was not the mere natural growth of ages, but begins with the very century of the Saint's death." Then T 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 tradition." Also, .that they are said to have commenced about A.D. 777. Then I spoke of the medicinal 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

1 These are the Author's [ ] 8 the Preface] my Preface 36 that they] that such miracles

409

(ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES.) 409

her miracles; and that the earliest witness had got into trouble with his Bishop. And so I left it, as a question to be decided by evidence, not deciding any thing myself.

What was the harm of all this ? but my Critic [has] muddled it together in a most extraordinary manner, and I am far from sure that he knows himself the definite categorical charge which he intends 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. 42. 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 put this down as Blot twenty-five.]

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) [; some think it is so by a natural quality, others by a divine gift. Perhaps it is on the confines of both.] (This leads to the third head.)

(3. Its miraculousness. On this point, since I have been 20 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 miraculous, as was the virtue of the pool of Bethsaida.

This point must be settled of course before the virtue of the oil can be ascribed to the sanctity of St. Walburga ; for myself, I neither have, nor ever have had, the means

so 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.

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 hithexi'to have been considered by Catholics as simply supernatural.

2. Though I readily make this admission, it must not 2 it] the matter 6 knows] knew 7 intends] intended 19 The matter from here to p. 415,first appeared in the 1865 edition.

410

- ------------ - ~.. Y. fi_... _~ PAR > wx, ~.~;-,~ ~~ ~.~ -~~ w ~ . ~. ~,~ z~. ,. -~, .-::. a , ,.,_,.; x .. :. ~_ .. , f ~._ u.,~~ - ~ ~ _.. .~~ . ~,.._. ~- - ^:^,^,~ ,~.N,~,.._ , ~z , °x · .-.,.~, .,.r~ x ..r` .x~ . *-,., .-~. .»- -?^~. 'a -.-,.. 3,~ -.", "r ,,. ,-:,~ ,.;:,.a ,~-_:.., z._.. ..~ '.~" .. ~.. a' ~.:_ .z..~ ~..^.s :c- ~,r _~}~,.: ~- y ~~ v ~~~-~- -~: -~. ~- ~ "'_ ,. _,r~ _ = :~ :~ .~ . _ r T ;~_ _.~. m. ~. ~,K . , :~ ~~ . - -`°~..r ~:~-_ . ..~ _ __ . .: _ _= . _ ~r: ~~. ' _s~rr _ -_;. ~ __ -; ~~. .._ ._ ~_ f ~~. . ~ ~_~ r -~ v. r .,~, . ~..~~z~ `^~ ....yr. ~ .~.~. ~ ~ a_ .~?..a rtd~aP r*.~.a~ s.~ Y'~·r:~n;·r.. '~r^~ ..~~t .:~ ; drizm. #^ ~ m~ _, .~.~ ,. _ . . .. . .. ._* _ . . . ,.. .. ....,. _.. . ... . . y,-~..sY 77 _7 7, -7 - - ------------ -- - -- . _ : = , . . , .4. = _ . ` ~. . , : , u , . . : _ a _ . . . ., *~: .:<:u ' -" ~tr r~_ ~~ ~,~. ° j --------- ----- 410 (NOTE B. be in consequence that I am disposed to supposed grant at once that everY event was natural in point of fact, which have taken place by the laws of nature might , for it act o only no Catholic can bind the Almighty t ame waY or to the observance always of, Y in one and the s is own laws. An event whith is possible in the way H of certainly ible too to Divine Power without the sei is certanature, possible sequence of natural cause and effect at all. A con flagration, flagration, to take a parallel, may be the work of an incen diary, or the result of a flash of lightning; nor would io 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. I n like manner, upon the hypothesis that a miraculous dispensation is in operation a recovery fro medical science is equal, may m diseases to which me nevertheless in matter of fact have taken p1ace, 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 20 event does not. ipso facto prove that it is not miraculous. 3. So far, attill some e xperimen tum crucis can be found, such as to be decisive against the however, p the natural cause or tan be found such as to be decisive against he supernatural, an occurrence of this kind will as little convince an unbeliever that there has w been a divine interference in the casa, as it ill drive the interference mit that there has been no to aadmit Catholic at all. 4. Still there is this gain accruing to the Catholic cause from. the -larger -possess- of the operation of so views we now 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 round of theit pretending or reporting things that are incredible. Our opponents have again and again accused us of false witness, on account of statements which they now allow are either true, or maY have been true. They account indeed for but till thes the strange facts very differently from us ; y have our characters c allow that facts the were. It is a Y great thing to leare d ~ and we ma, 40 , Y reasonably hope that the next time our word is vouched for occurrences which

411

ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES.) 411

appear to be miraculous, our facts will. be investigated, 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 pronounc.- upon

1 zo the truth or falsehood of this or that miraculous narrative, as it occurs in ecclesiastical history; but only to furnish such 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 following 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

ao answer the objection, that there is nothing strictly miracu 1 ous in such an occurrence, because sudden thunderclouds 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, unhopedfor results obtained, sicknesses cured; tempests laid, pestilences 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.

4o They may, or they may not, in this or that case, follow or

412

(NOTE B. 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 impresses 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 io 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 all, was it a miracle ? for, if not, we are labouring at a proof of which nothing comes. The more immediate answer to this question has already been suggested several times. When a Bishop with his flock prays night and day so 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 con sidered-Mill able--to per-form.- If- they are willing to allow so to the Church such 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 Qo apparent miracle wrought in favour of the African con-

413

ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES.) 413

fessors in the Vandal 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 miraculous. Among other remarks (referring to the instances adduced by Middleton and others in disparagement of the miracle, viz. of " 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, yet retained his speech, whether perfectly or not,) I said, " Does Middleton mean 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. ccx. 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

zo 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 party, 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 Vito ; ` I perceived the -tongues entirely gone by the roots,' says Eneas ; ` as low down as the throat,' says

ao Procopius ; `at the roots,' say Justinian and St. Gregory; -`-he spoke -like an educated man, without impediment,' says Victor of Vito ; ` with articulateness,' says Eneas ; ` 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 Victor ; ` 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 necessary for articulate speech.

414

(NOTE B.

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, however, that the tongues grow again sufficiently for the 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 lo 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 20 who have had their tongues cut out, I can state from personal 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 so 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 converted, by these testimonies, to the belief that there was nothing miraculous in the case of the African confessors. It is quite as fair to be sceptical on one side of the question 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 40

415

ECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES.) 415

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.)

416

APPENDIX. Ecclesiastical Miracles.

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

Now as to Miracles.] Catholics believe that they happen in any age of the Church, though not for the same purposes, in the same number, or with the same evidence, as m Apostolic times. The Apostles wrought them in evidence lo of their divine mission; and with this object they have been sometimes wrought by Evangelists of countries since, as even Protestants allow. Hence we hear of them in the history of St. Gregory in Pontus, and St. Martin in Gaul ;. and in their case, as 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. 20 And since, generally, they are granted to faith and prayer, 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 commonly do they gain from above the ordinary interventions 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 30

5. (in heading)] Note B. On page 125.

1-7 For the passage in [ ] the following paragraph was substituted in 1865 : The writer, who gave occasion for the foregoing Narrative, 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:-

7 they] miracles

417

(NOTE B.) 417

miraculous, which, strictly speaking, are not such, and not more than providential mercies, or what are sometimes called " graces " or " favours."

Persons, who believe all this, in accordance with Catholic teaching, as I did and do, they, on the report of a miracle, will of necessity, the necessity of good logic, be led to say, first, " It may be," and secondly, " But I must have good evidence in order to believe it." (1.) It mtzy be, because miracles take place in all ages; it must be clearly proved,

io 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 have said, which this Writer considers so irrational. I have said, as he quotes me, [p. 41,] " In this day, and under our present circumstances, we can only reply, that there is no reason why they should not be." Surely this is good logic, provided that miracles do occur in all ages ; and so again is it logical to say, " There is nothing, prima facie, in the miraculous accounts in question, to repel a properly taught or religiously dis-

zo posed mind." What is the matter with this statement ? My assailant does not pretend to say what the matter is, and he cannot; but he expresses a rude, unmeaning astonishment. [Next, I stated what evidence there is for the miracles of which I was speaking; what is the harm of that ? He observes, " What evidence Dr. Newman requires, he makes evident at once. He at least will fear for himself, and swallow the whole as it comes."-pp. 41-2. What random abuse is this, or, to use his own words of me just before, what " stuff and nonsense! " What is it I am

ao " swallowing " ? " the whole " what ? the evidence ? or the miracles ? I have swallowed neither, nor implied any

such thing. Blot twenty-six.]

But to return : I have just said that a Catholic's state of mind, of logical necessity, will be, " It may be a miracle,

1 and] that is, 8 1. It may be, This commenced a new cparagrap~ in g1865.e ~~ 12, 13 have (twice)] had 12-13 this Writer considers] the writer, who has given occasion to this Volume, considered 17 is it logical to say] I'am logical; in saying

33-34 But to return: . . . may be a miracle, but] 2. But, though a miracle be conceivable,

APOLOGIA

418

APPENDIX.

but 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 exaggeration. 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 fact in secular history. Supposing I hear that King Charles II, died a Catholic, I should say, [l.] It may be[. 2.] (but) What is your proof ? Accordingly, in the passage which this writer quotes, I observe, " Miracles to are the kind of facts proper to ecclesiastical history, just as instances of sagacity or daring, personal prowess, or crime, are the facts proper -to secular history." What is the harm of this ? [But this writer says, " Verily his [Dr. Newman's] idea of secular history is almost as degraded as his idea of ecclesiastical," p. 41, and he ends with this muddle of an Ipse dixit ! Blot twenty-seven.

[In like manner, about the Holy Coat at Treves, he says of me, " Dr. Newman . . . seems hardly sure of the authenticity of the Holy Coat." Why need I be, more than I am ao sure that Richard III. murdered the little princes ? If I have not means of making up my mind one way or the other, surely my most logical course is " not to be sure." He continues, " Dr. Newman ` does not see why it may not have been what it professes to be.'" Well, is not that just what this Writer would say of a great number of the facts recorded in secular history ? is it not what he would be obliged to say of much that is told us about the armour and other antiquities in the Tower of London ?~ To- this I -alluded-iu<-the_passagefromwhiclL -he duotes ; zo but he has garbled that passage, and I must show it. He quotes me to this effect: " Is the Tower of London shut. against sight-seers because the coats of mail or Bikes there may have half-legendary tales connected with them ? why then may not the country people come up in joyous

S should] am led to

9-14 Accordingly, . . . harm of this ? In 1865 these lines were trans. posed to follow the words rude, unmeaning astonishment (p. 417, L. 23).

10 this writer] he 14 The passage in [ ) pp. 418-25 was not reprinted in 1865. 15 [Dr. Newman's] These are Dr. Newman's [ ].

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APPENDIX. 419

companies, singing and piping, to see the holy coat at Treves? " On this he remarks, " To see, forsooth ! to worship, Dr. Newman would have said, had he known (as I take for granted he does not) the facts of that imposture." Here, if I understanc>' him, he implies that the people came up, not only to see, but to worship, and that I have slurred over the fact that their coming was an act of religious homage, that is, what he would call " worship." Now, will it be believed that, so far from concealing this 2

lo I had carefully stated it in the sentence immediately preceding, and he suppresses it ? I say, " The world pays civil honour to it [a jewel said to be Alfred's] on the probability; we pay religious honour to relics, if so be, on the probability. Is the Tower of London," I proceed, " shut," &c. Blot twenty-eight.

These words of mine, however, are but one sentence in a long argument, conveying the Catholic view on the subject of ecclesiastical miracles ; and, as it is carefully worked out, and very much to the present point, and will save me

zo doing over again what I could not do better or more fully now, if I set about it, I shall make a very long extract from the Lecture in which it occurs, and so bring this Head to an end.

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

We affirm that the Supreme Being has wrought

a0 miracles on earth ever since the time of the Apostles; Protestants deny it. Why do we affirm, why do they deny ? We affirm it on a first principle, they deny it on a first principle; and on either side the first .principle is made to be decisive of the question .... Both they and we start with the miracles of the Apostles ; and then their first principle or presumption against our miracles is this, ` What God did once, He is not likely to do again ; ' while

12 These are the Author's [ ].

420

420 our first principle or presumption for our miracles is this; What God did once, He is likely to do again.' They say, It cannot be supposed He will work many miracles; we, It cannot be supposed He will work few. The Protestant, I say, laughs at the very idea of miracles or supernatural powers as occurring at this day ; his first principle is rooted m him; he repels from him the idea of miracles ; he laughs at the notion of evidence ; one is just as likely as another; they are all false. Why ? because of his first principle, There are no miracles since lo the Apostles. Here, indeed, is a short and easy way of getting rid of the whole subject, not by reason, but by a first principle which he calls reason. Yes, it is reason, granting his first principle is true posing his first principle is false. There is in the Church a vast tradition and testimony about miracles ; how is it to be accounted for ? If miracles can take place, then the fact of the miracle will be a natural explanation of the report, just as the fact of a man dying accounts satisfactorily for the news that he is dead ; but so the Protestant cannot so explain it, because he thinks miracles cannot take place ; so he is necessarily driven, by way of accounting for the report of them, to impute that report to fraud. He cannot help himself. I repeat it ; the- whole mass of accusations which Protestants bring against us under this head, Catholic credulity, imposture, pious frauds, hypocrisy, priestcraft, this vast and varied superstructure of imputation, you see, all rests on an assumption, on an opinion of theirs, for which they offer no- kind -of -proof-: - drat- then; -i-n -fact,-do-they-say--more ao than this, If Protestantism be true, you Catholics are a most awful set of knaves ? Here, at least, is a most sensible and undeniable position. " Now, on the other hand, let me take our own side of the question, and consider how we ourselves stand relatively to the charge made against us. Catholics, then, hold the mystery of the Incarnation ; and the Incarnation is the most stupendous event which ever can take place on earth; and after it and henceforth, I do not see how we can scruple at any miracle on the mere ground of its being ~c unlikely to happen .... When we start with assuming that APPENDIX. it is not reason, sup- - ------------- --------- - --

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APPENDIX. 421

miracles are not unlikely, we are putting forth a position which lies embedded, as it were, and involved in the great revealed fact of the Incarnation. So much is plain on starting; but more is plain too. Miracles are not only not unlikely; but they are positively likely; and for this simple reason, because for the most part, when God begins, He goes on. We conceive, that when He first did a miracle, He began a series ; what He commenced, He continued what has been, will be. Surely this is good and clear reason ing. To my own mind, certainly, it is incomparably more difficult to believe that the Divine Being should do one miracle and no more, than that He should do a thousand; that He should do one great miracle only, than that He should do a multitude of lesser besides .... If the Divine Being does a thing once, He is, judging by human reason, likely to do it again. This surely is common sense. If a beggar gets . food at a gentleman's house once, does he not send others thither after him ? If you are attacked by thieves once, do you forthwith leave your windows

20 open at night ? . . Nay, suppose you yourselves were once to see a miracle, would you not feel the occurrence to be like passing a line ? would you, in consequence of it, declare, ` I never will believe another if I hear of one ? ' would it not, on the contrary, predispose you to listen to a new report ? . .

" When I hear the report of 'a miracle, my first feeling would be of the same kind as if ~ it were a report of any natural exploit or event. Supposing, for instance, I heard a report of the death of some public man ; it would not

ao startle me, even if I did not at once credit it, for all men must die. Did I read of any great feat of valour, I should believe it, if imputed to Alexander or Coeur de Lion. Did I hear of any act of baseness, I should disbelieve it, if imputed to a friend whom I knew and loved. And so in like manner were a miracle reported to me as wrought by a Member of Parliament, or a Bishop of the Establishment, or a Wesleyan preacher, I should repudiate the notion

were it referred to a saint, or the relic of a saint, or the intercession of a saint, I should not be startled at it, though

ao I might not at once believe it. And I certainly should be right in this conduct, supposing my First Principle be true.

422

422 APPENDIX.

Miracles to the Catholic are historical facts, and nothing short of this; and they are to be regarded and dealt with as other facts ; and as natural facts, under circumstances, do not startle Protestants, so supernatural, under circumstances, do not startle the Catholic. They may or may not have taken place in particular cases ; he may be unable to determine which, he may have no distinct evidence; he may suspend his judgment, but he will say ` It is very possible ; ' he never will say ` I cannot believe it.'

" Take the history of Alfred; you know his wise, mild, io beneficent, yet daring character, and his romantic vicissitudes of fortune. This great king has a number of stories, or, as you may call them, legends told of him. Do you believe them all ? no. Do you, on the other hand, think them incredible ? no. Do you call a man a dupe or a blockhead for believing them ? no. Do you call an author a knave or a cheat who records them ? no. You go into neither extreme, whether of implicit faith or of violent reprobation. You are not so extravagant; you see that they suit his character, they may have happened : yet this 20 is so romantic, that has so little evidence, a third is so confused in dates or in geography, that you are in matter of fact indisposed towards them. Others are probably true, others certainly. Nor do you force every one to take your view of particular stories; you and your neighbour think differently about this or that in detail, and agree to differ. There is in the museum at Oxford; a jewel or trinket said to be Alfred's ; it is shown to all comers ; I never heard the keeper of the museum accused of hypocrisy or fraud for showing, with Alfred's name appended, ao what he might or might not himself believe to have belonged to that great king ; nor did I ever see any party of strangers who were looking at it with awl,, regarded by any selfcomplacent bystander with scornful compassion. Yet the curiosity is not to a certainty Alfred's. The world pays civil honour to it on the probability ; we pay religious honour to relics, if so be, on the probability. Is the Tower of London shut against sight-seers, because the coats of mail and pikes there may have half-legendary tales connected with them? why then may not the country people 40 come up in joyous companies, singing and piping, to see

423

APPENDIX. 423

the Holy Coat at Treves? There is our Queen again, who is so truly and justly popular ; she roves about in the midst of tradition and romance ; she scatters myths and legends from her as she goes along; she is a being of poetry, and you might fairly be sceptical whether she had any personal existence. She is always at some beautiful, noble, bounteous work or other, if you trust the papers. She is doing alms-deeds in the Highlands ; she meets beggars in her rides at Windsor ; she writes verses in

io albums, or draws sketches, or is mistaken for the -hill by some blind old woman, or she runs up a hill as if she were a child. Who finds fault with these things ? he would be a cynic, he would be white-livered, and would have gall for blood, who was not struck with this graceful, touching evidence of the love her subjects bear her. Who could have the head, even if he had the heart, who could be so cross- and peevish, who could be so solemn and per verse, as to say that some of these stories may be simple lies, and all of them might have stronger evidence than

so they carry with them ? Do you think she is displeased at them ? Why then should He, the Great Father, who once walked the earth, look sternly on the unavoidable mistakes of His own subjects and children in their devotion to Him and His ? Even granting they mistake some cases in particular, from the infirmity of human nature and the contingencies of evidence, and fancy there is or has been a miracle here and there when there is not, though a tradition, attached to a picture, or to a shrine, or a well, be very doubtful, though one relic be sometimes mistaken

3o for another, and St. Theodore stands for St. Eugenius or St. Agathocles, still, once take into account our First Principle, that He is likely to continue miracles among us, which is as good as the Protestant's, and I do not see why He should feel mach displeasure with us on account of this, or should cease to work wonders in our behalf. In the Protestant's view, indeed, who assumes that miracles never are, our thaumatology is one great falsehood; but that is his First Principle, as I have said so often, which he does not prove but assume. If he, indeed, upheld our

Qo system, or we held his principle, in either case he or we should be impostors ; but though we should be partners

424

APPENDIX.

to a fraud if we thought like Protestants, we surely are not if we think like Catholics.

" such then is the. answer I make to those who would urge against us the multitude of miracles recorded in our Saints' Lives and devotional works, for many of, which there is little evidence, and for some next to none. We think them true in the same sense in which Protestants think the history of England true. When they say that, they do not mean to say that theca are no mistakes, but no mistakes of consequence, none which alter the general io course of history. Nor do they mean they are equally sure of every part; for evidence is fuller and better for some things than for others. They do not stake their credit on the truth of Froissart or Sully, they do not pledge themselves for the accuracy of Doddington or Walpole, they do not embrace as an Evangelist Hume, Sharon Turner, or Macaulay. And yet they do not think it necessary, on the other hand, to commence a religious war against all our historical catechisms, and abstracts, and dictionaries, and tales, and biographies, through the 20 country; they have no call on them to amend and expurgate books of archzeology, antiquities, heraldry, architecture, geography, and statistics, to re-write our inscriptions, and to establish a censorship on all new publications for the time to come. And so as regards the miracles of the Catholic Church; if, indeed, miracles never can occur, then, indeed, impute the narratives to fraud; but till you prove they are not likely, we shall consider the histories which have come down to us true on the whole, though in particular cases they may be exaggerated or. unfounded. ao Where, indeed, they can certainly be proved to- be false, there we shall be bound to do our best to get rid of them ; but till that is clear, we shall Ze liberal enough to allow others to use their private judgment in their favour, as we use ours in their disparagement. For myself, lest I appear in any way to be shrinking from a determinate judgment on the claims of some of those miracles and relics, which Protestants are so startled at, and to be hiding particular questions . in what is vague and general, I will avow distinctly, that, putting out of the question the ao hypothesis of unknown laws of nature (which is an evasion

425

APPENDIX. 425

from the force of any proof), I think it impossible to withstand the evidence which is brought for the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius at Naples, and for the motion of the eyes of the pictures of the Madonna in the Roman States. I see no reason to doubt the material of the Lombard crown at Monza; and I do not see why the Holy Coat atTreves may not have been what it professes to be. I firmly believe that portions of the True Cross are at Rome and elsewhere, that the Crib of Bethlehem is at Rome, and the

io bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul also. . . . . Many men when they hear an educated man so speak, will at once impute the avowal to insanity, or to an idiosyncrasy, or to imbecility of mind, or to decrepitude of powers, or to fanaticism, or to hypocrisy. They have a right to say so, if they will; and we have a right to ask them why they do not say it of those who bow down before the Mystery of mysteries, the Divine Incarnation? "]

In my Essay on Miracles of the year 1826, I proposed three questions about a professed miraculous occurrence,

zo 1. is it antecedently probable ? 2 . is it in its nature certainly miraculous ? 3. has it sufficient evidence ? These are the three heads (in my Essay of 1842 ; and) under which I still wish to conduct the inquiry into the miracles of Ecclesiastical History.

17 The passage in [ 1, pp. 418, 1. 14, to 426, was not reprinted in 1865. 21-22 These are the three heads] To these three heads I had regard

22 which] them

24 Here followed, in 2865, the remainder of Note B. On Ecclesiastical Miracles, pp. 407-15 of this book.

426

426 APPENDIX. , Popular Religion.

This Writer uses much rhetoric against a Lecture of mine, in which I bring out; as honestly as I can, the state of countries which have long received the Catholic Faith, and hold it by the force of tradition, universal custom, and legal establishment; a Lecture in which I give pictures,

drawn principally from the middle ages, of what, considering the corruption of the human race generally, that state

is sure to be, pictures of its special sins and offences, sui generis, which are the result of that Faith when it is separated from Love or Charity, or of what Scripture calls io a " dead faith," of the Light shining in darkness, and the

truth held in unrighteousness. The nearest approach which this Writer is able to make towards stating what I have said in this Lecture, .is to state the very reverse. Observe

we have already had some instances of the haziness of, his

ideas concerning the " Notes of the Church." These Notes are, as any one knows who has looked into the subject, certain great and simple characteristics, which He who founded the Church has stamped upon hex; in order to draw both the reason and the imagination of men to her, 20 as being really a divine work, and a religion distinct from all other religious . communities; the principal of these

Notes being that she is Holy, One, Catholic, and Apostolic, as the Creed says: Now, to use his own word, he has the incredible " audacity " to say, that I have declared, not

the divine characteristics of the Church, but the sins and scandals in her, to be her Notes,-as if I made God the Author of evil. He says distinctly, " Dr. Newman, with a kind of desperate audacity, will dig forth such scandals as Notes of the Catholic Church." This is what I get at his 30 hands for my honesty. Blot twenty-nine:

Again, he says, " [Dr. Newman uses] the blasphemy and profanity which he confesses to be so common in

6. Popular Religion. This section was not reprinted in 1865. 32 These are Dr. Neu-an's [ ].

427

APPENDIX. 427

Catholic countries, as an argument for, and not against the ` Catholic Faith.'"-p. 50. That is, because I admit that profaneness exists in the Church, therefore I consider it a token of the Church. Yes, certainly, just as our national form of cursing is an evidence of the being of a God, and as a gallows is the glorious sign of a civilized country, but in no other way. Blot thirty.

What is it that I really say? I say as follows : Protestants object that the communion of Rome does not

io fulfil satisfactorily the expectation which we may justly form concerning the True Church, as it is delineated in the four Notes, enumerated in the Creed; and among others, e. g. in the Note of sanctity; and they point, in proof of what they assert, to the state of Catholic countries. Now, in answer to this objection, it is plain what I might have done, if I had not had a conscience. I might have denied the fact. I might have said, for instance, that the middle ages were as virtuous, as they were believing. I might have denied that there was any violence, any superstition,

2o any immorality, any blasphemy during them. And so as to the state of countries which have long had the light of Catholic truth, and have degenerated. I mi,, ~ht have admitted nothing against them, and explained ay every thing which plausibly told to their disadvantage. I did nothing of the kind; and what effect has this had upon this estimable critic ? " Dr. Newman takes a seeming pleasure," he says, " in detailing instances of dishonesty on .the. part of Catholics. "-p. 50. Blot thirty-one. Any one who knows me well, would testify that my " seeming

ao pleasure," as he calls it, at such things; is just the impatient sensitiveness, which relieves itself by means of a definite delineation of what is so hateful to it.

However, to pass on. All the miserable scandals of Catholic countries, taken at the worst, are, as I view the matter, no argument against the Church itself ; and the reason which I give in the Lecture is, that, according to the proverb, Corruptio optimi est pessima. The Jews could sin in a way no other contemporary race could sin, for theirs was a sin against light; and Catholics can sin with a depth and intensity with which Protestants cannot

428

428 APPENDIX.

sin. There will be more blasphemy, more hatred of God, more of diabolical rebellion, more of awful sacrilege, more of vile hypocrisy in a Catholic country than any where else, because there is in it more of sin against light. Surely, this is just what Scripture says, " Woe unto thee, Chorazin ! woe unto thee, Bethsaida ! " And, again, surely what is told us by religious men, say by Father Bresciani, about the present unbelieving party in Italy, fully bears out the divine text: " If, after they have escaped the pollutions of the world . . . they are again entangled therein and io overcome, the latter end is worse with them than the beginning. For it had been better for them not to have known the way of righteousness, than, after they have known it, to turn from the holy commandments delivered unto them."

And what is true of those who thus openly oppose themselves to the truth, as it was true of the Evil One in the beginning, will in. an analogous may be true in the case of all sin, be it of a heavier or light&weharacter, which is found in a Catholic country :-sin will be strangely 20 tinged or dyed by religious .associations or beliefs, and will exhibit the tragical inconsistencies of the excess of knowledge over lo v~, or of much faith with little obedience. The mysteri~s battle between good and evil will assume in a Catholic country its most frightful shawhen it is not the collision of two distinct and far-separated hosts, but when it is carried on in hearts and souls, taken one by one, and when the eternal foes are so intermingled and interfused that to human eyes they seem to coalesce into, a multitude of individualities. This is in course of years, the ao real, the hidden condition of a nation, which has been bathed in Christian ideas, whether it be a young vigorous race, or an old and degenerate ; and it will manifest itself socially and historically in those characteristics, sometimes grotesque, sometimes hideous, sometimes despicable, of which we have so many instances, medieval and modern, both in this hemisphere and in the western. It is, I say, the necessary result of the intercommunion of divine faith and human corruption.

But it has a light side as well as a dark. First, much no which seems profane, is not in itself profane, but in the

429

APPENDIX. 429

subjective view of the Protestant beholder. Scenic representations of our Lord's Passion are not profane to a Catholic population; in like manner, there are usages, customs, institutions, actions, often of an indifferent nature, which will be necessarily mixed up with religion in a Catholic country, because all things whatever are so mixed up. Protestants have been sometimes shocked, most absurdly as a Catholic rightly decides, at hearing that Mass is sometimes said for a good haul of fish. There is no sin here, but only a difference from Protestant customs Other phenomena of a Catholic nation are at most mere extravagances. And then as to what is really sinful, if there be in it fearful instances of blasphemy or superstition, there are also special and singular fruits and exhibitions of sanctity; and, if the many do not seem to lead better lives for all their religious knowledge, at least they learn, as they can learn nowhere else, how to repent thoroughly and to die well.

The visible state of a country, which professes Catholi-

2o cism, need not be the measure of the spiritual result of that Catholicism, at the Eternal Judgment Seat; but no one could say that that visible state was a Note that Catholicism was divine.

All this I attempted to bring out in the Lecture of which I am speaking; and that I had some success, I am glad to infer from the message of congratulation upon it, which I received at the time, from a foreign Catholic layman, of high English reputation, with whom I had not the honour of a personal acquaintance. And having given the key

ao to the Lecture, which the Writer so wonderfully misrepresents, I pass on to another head'.]

430

430 APPENDIX. The Economy.

For the [subject of the] Economy, (considered as a rule of practice,) I shall refer to my discussion upon it in (1830-32, in) my History of the Arians[, after one word about this Writer. He puts into his Title-page these words from a Sermon of mine: " It is not more than an hyperbole to say, that, in certain cases, a lie is the nearest approach to truth." This Sermon he attacks; but I do not think it necessary to defend it here, because any one who reads it, will see that he is simply incapable of forming a notion of what it is about. It treats of subjects which are entirely io out of his depth; and, as I have already shown in other instances, and observed in the beginning of this Volume, he illustrates in his own person the very thing that shocks him, viz. that the nearest approach to truth, in given cases, is a lie. He does his best to make something of it, I believe ; but he gets simply perplexed. He finds that it annihilates space, robs him of locomotion, almost scoffs at the existence of the earth, and he is simply frightened and cowed. He can but say " the man who wrote that sermon was already past the possibility of conscious dishonesty," p. 56. Perhaps zo it is hardly fair, after such a confession on his part of being fairly beat, to mark down a blot; however, let it be Blot thirty-two. .

Then again, he quotes -from me thus : " Many a theory or view of things, on which an institution is founded, or a party held together, is of the same kind (economical). Many an argument, used by zealous and earnest men, has this economical character, being not the very ground on which they act, (for they continue in the same course, though it be refuted,) yet in a certain sense; a representation ao of it, a proximate description of their feelings, in the shape of argument, on which they can rest, to which they can recur when perplexed, and appeal when they are questioned."

7. (in heading)] Note F. On page 360. 2 my discussionl'what I wrote 3 The mutter between[], pp. 430 to 432,1. 6,was not reprinted do 1865.

431

APPENDIX. 431

He calls these " startling words," p. 54. Yet here again he illustrates their truth; for in his own case, he has acted on them in this very controversy with the most happy exactness. Surely he referred to my Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence, when called omto prove me a liar, as "a proximate description of his feelings about me, in the shape of argument," and he has " continued in the same course, though it has been refuted." Blot thirty-three.

Then, as to " a party being held together by a mythical

io representation," or economy. Surely " Church and King," " Reform," " Non-intervention," are such symbols ; or let this Writer answer Mr. Kinglake's question in his " Crimean War," " Is it true that . . great armies were gathering, and that for the sake of the Key and the Star the peace of the nations was brought into danger ? " Blot thirty-four.

In the beginning of this work, pp. 89-95, I refuted his gratuitous accusation against me at p. 57, founded on my calling one of my Anglican Sermons a Protestant one

zo so I have nothing to do but to register it here as Blot thirty-;five.

Then he says that I committed an economy in placing in my original title-page, that the question between him and me, was whether. " Dr. Newman teaches that Truth is no virtue." It was a " wisdom df the serpentine type," since I did not add, " for its own sake." Now observe

First, as to the matter of fact, in the course of my Letters, - which bore that Title=page, I printed the words " for itsown sake," five times over. Next, pray, what kind of a

ao virtue is that, which is not done for its own sake ? So this, after all, is this Writer's idea of virtue ! a something that is done for the sake of something else ; a-sort of expedience ! He is honest, it seems, simply because honesty is " the best policy," and on that score it is that he thinks himself virtuous. Why, " for its own sake " enters into the very idea or definition of a virtue. Defend me from such virtuous men, as this Writer would inflict upon us! Blot

432

432 APPENDIX.

These Blots are enough just now; so I proceed to a brief sketch of what I held in 1833 upon the Economy, as a rule of practice. I wrote this two months ago ; perhaps the composition is not quite in keeping with the run of this Appendix; and it is short; but I think it will be sufficient for my purpose :-]

The doctrine of the Economic, had, as I have shown (above), pp. 128-131, (in the early Church) a large signification when applied to the divine ordinances; it also had a definite application to the duties of Christians, whether io clergy or laity, in preaching, in instructing or catechising, 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 knowledge of " the whole counsel of God." This cautious dispensation of the 20 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 Prudence, 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 themselves, 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 ao are such as the following :-1. Divine Providence did but 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 heathen; " and He suffered in the Jews divorce " because of the hard ness of their hearts." 2. He has allowed Himself to be represented as having eyes, ears, and hands, as having wrath, jealousy, grief, and repentance. 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 40

7-8 The doctrine . . . pp. 128-131] I have shown above, pp. 128-131, that the doctrine in question had

433

(NOTE F.) 433

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 Rimmon. 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.

io 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 economical is to give a fine name to what occurs every day, independent of any knowledge 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 "mollia tempora fandi," and (for) "mollia verba " too.

zo 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 principle in His own words,-" Cast not your pearls before swine; " and that He exemplified it in His teaching 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.

3o I sap, 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 disciplincc arcani as regards the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, to which Bingham bears witness ; also of the defence of this rule by

ao Basil, Cyril of Jerusalem, Chrysostom, and Theodoret.

434

434 APPENDIX.

And 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 misrepresentations, 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 lo the charge as fully as will be seen in the following extracts,

For instance, speaking, of the Discipline Arcani, I say

(1) " The elementary information given to the heathen or catechumen was in no serene undone by the subsequent secret teaching, which was in fact but the ,filling up of a bare but correct outline," p. 58, and I contrast this with the conduct of the Manichaeans " who represented the initiatory discipline as founded on a fiction or hypothesis, which was to be forgotten by the learner as he made progress in the real doctrine of the Gospel." (2) As to allegorizing, I so say that the Alexandrians erred, whenever and as far as they proceeded " to obscure the primary meaning of Scripture, and to 2oeaken the force of historical facts and express declarations," p. 69. (3) And that they were " more open to censure," when, on being " urged by 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 want of faith in ao those who had recourse to it; " for " God has given us rules of right and wrong," ibid. (5) Again, I say,-" The abuse of the Economy in the hands of unscrupulous reasoners, is obvious. Every the honest controversialist or teacher will find it very difficult to represent, without misrepresenting, what it is yet his duty to present 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, 40 1 And] But

435

(NOTE F.) 435

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 wonderful, 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. When we would persuade others, we

io do not begin by treading on their toes. Men would be thought rude who introduced their own religious notions into mixed society, 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 tell in the House of. Commons, on the hustings, and at Exeter Hall? Is an educated gentleman never worsted at an election by the tone and arguments of some clever fellow, who, whatever his shortcomings in other respects,

zo understands the common people ?

As to the Catholic Religion 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 prudence is not to be a coward ; that the most damaging folly is to be found out shufCiing ; and that the first of virtues is to " tell truth, and shame the devil."

1 These are the Author's [ ]

436

436 APPENDIX. 8. Lying and Equivocation.

[This writer says, " Though [a lie] be a sin, the fact of its being a venial one seems to have gained for it as yet a very slight penance."-p. 60. Yet he says also that Dr. Newman takes " a perverse pleasure in eccentricities," because I say that " it is better for sun and moon to drop from heaven than that one soul should tell one wilful untruth."-p. 46. That is, he first accuses us without foundation of making light of a lie; and, when he finds that we don't, then he calls us inconsistent. I have noticed these words of mine, and two passages besides, which he .quotes, above at pp. io 339-41. Here I will but observe on the subject of venial sin generally, that he altogether forgets our doctrine of Purgatory. This punishment may last till the day of judgment; so much for duration; then as to intensity, let the image of fire, by which we denote it, show what we think of it. Here is the expiation of venial sins. Yet Protestants, after the manner of this Writer, are too apt to play fast and loose ; to blame us because we hold that sin may be venial, and to blame us again when we tell them what we think will be its punishment. Blot thirty-seven. 20

At the end of his Pamphlet he makes a distinction between the Catholic clergy and gentry in England, which I know the latter consider to be very impertinent ; and he makes it apropos of a passage in one of my original letters in January. He quotes me as saying that " Catholics differ from Protestants, as to whether this or that act in particular is conformable to the rule of truth," p. 61 ; and then he goes on to observe, that I have " calumniated the Catholic gentry," because " there is no difference whatever, of detail or other, between their truthfulness and honour, ao and the truthfulness and honour of the Protestant gentry

8. (in heading)] Note G. On page 369. 1 The passages in [ ], pp. 436-8, were not reprinted an 1865. 1 [a lie] These are Dr. Newman's [ ],

437

APPENDIX. 437

among whom they live." But again he has garbled my words; they run thus

" Truth is the same in itself and in substance, to Catholic and Protestant; so is purity; both virtues are to be referred to that moral sense which is the natural possession of us all. But, when we come to the question in detail, whether this or that act in particular is conformable to the rule of truth, or again to the rule of purity, then sometimes there is a difference of opinion between individuals- some-

io times between schools, and sometimes between religious communions." I knew indeed perfectly well, and I confessed that " Protestants think that the Catholic system, as such, leads to a lax observance of the rule of truth ; " but I added, " I am very sorry that they should think so," and I never meant myself to grant that all Protestants were on the strict side, and all Catholics on the lax. Far from it; there is a stricter party as well as a laxer party am`bng Catholics, there is a laxer party as well as a stricter party among Protestants. I have already spoken of Protestant

zo writers who in certain cases allow of lying, I have also spoken of Catholic writers who do not allow of equivocation ; when I wrote " a difference of opinion between individuals," and " between schools," I meant between Protestant and Protestant, and particular instances were in my mind. I did not say then, of dream of saying, that Catholics, priests and.laity, were lax on the point of lying, and that Protestants were strict, any more than I meant to say that all Catholics were pure, and all Protestants impure ; but I meant to say that, whereas the rule of

ao Truth is one and the same both to Catholic and Protestant, nevertheless some Catholics were lax, some strict, and again some Protestants'were strict, some lax ; and I have already had opportunities of recording my own judgment on which side this Writer is himself, and therefore he may keep his forward vindication of " honest gentlemen and noble ladies," who, in spite of their priests, are still so truthful, till such time as he can find a worse assailant of them than I am, and they no better champion of them than himself. And as to the Priests of England, those who

4o know them, as he does not, will pronounce them no whit inferior in this great virtue to the gentry, whom

438

438 APPENDIX. he says ,that he does; and I cannot say more. Blot

Lastly, this Writer uses the following words, which I have more than once quoted, and with a reference to them I shall end my remarks upon him. " I am henceforth," he says, " 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 io his pupils, even when confirmed with an oath . . .? "

I will tell him why he need not fear; because he has left out one very important condition in the statement of St. Alfonso,-and very applicable to my own case, even if I followed St. Alfonso's view of the subject. St. Alfonso says " ex justc2 causR ; " but our " honest man," as he styles himself, has omitted these words ; which are a key to the whole question. Blot thirty-nine. Here endeth our " honest man." Now for the subject of Lying.]

Almost all authors, Catholic and Protestant, admit, zo that when 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 absolutely forbidden to a Catholic, as a mortal sin, under certain circumstances, e. g. to keep silence, instead of making 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 ao is a " juste cause," 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,

26-27 instead of making] when it is a duty to make

439

(NOTE G.) 439

to madmen, to men who ask impertinent questions, to those whom we hope to benefit by misleading.

Another ground, taken in defending certain untruths, ex jicsttt cause, 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 view that to

io 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 equivocate, 'and others that equivocation is but a halfmeasure, and that it is better to say at once that in certain cases untruths are not lies.

20 Others will try to distinguish between evasions and equivocations ; but [they will be answered,- that,]' though there are evasions which are clearly not equivocations, yet [that] it is (very) difficult scientifically to draw the line between .them.

To these must be added the. unscientific .way of dealing with lies, (-) viz., that on a great or cruel occasion a man cannot help telling 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

ao 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 anticipated, and not thought of again, after it is once over. ,This view cannot for a moment be defended, but, I suppose, it is very common.

[And now] I think the historical course of thought upon the matter has been this : the Greek Fathers thought

9 view] theory 24 them] the one and the other 32 anticipated] thought about before it is incurred 33 once] well

440

440 APPENDIX. that, when there was a junta causa, an untruth need not be a lie. St. Augustine 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 are lies, yet that certain equivocations, when there is a just cause, are not untruths. Further, there have been and all along through these io 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 quip non. The Greek Fathers make them such as these, self-defence, charity, zeal for God's honour, and the like. St. Augustine seems to deal with the same " just causes " as the Greek Fathers, even though he does not allow of their availableness as depriving untruths, spoken with such 20 objects, of their sinfulness. He mentions defence of life and of honour, and the safe custody of a secret. Also the Anglican writers, who have followed the Greek Fathers, in defending untruths when there is the " just cause," consider that (") just cause (") to be such as the preservation of life and property, defence of law, the good of others. Moreover, their moral rights, e. g. defence against the inquisitive, 8cc. St. Alfonso, I consider, would take the same view of ao the " junta 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 Liege, 1852-3, p. 453) quotes Lessius : " Si absque junta causa fiat, est abusio orationis contra virtutem veritatis, et civilem 40 16 them] it 20-21 with such objects] on such occasions

441

(NOTE G.) 441

consuetudinem, etsi proprie non sit mendacium." That is, the virtue of truth, and the civil custom, are the measure of the- just cause. And so Voit, " If a man has used a reservation (restrictions non pure mentali) without a grave 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 untruths which are not lies, says, "Under the name of mental reservation theologians authorize many lies, when there is for them a grave reason

io 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 rrialo), then nothing hinders that the good may be intended and the evil permitted. 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 inter$o course 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. [Accordingly, I think the best word for embracing all the cases which would come under the " junta causa," is, not " extreme,"

30 but " special," and I say the sans as regards St. Alfonso ; and - therefore, -above in pp. 363-5, whether I speak of St. Alfonso or Palsy, I should have used the word " special," or " extraordinary," not " extreme."]

What I have -been saying shows what different schools of opinion there are in the Church in the treatment of this

15-16 that the good may be intended and the evil permitted] the speaker's intending the good and only permitting the evil

21 ever] ever 23 These [ ] are in 1864 and 1866.

27-33 For the passage in [ ] the following is substituted in 1866 : Of such a case Walter Scott, if I mistake not, supplied a very distinct example, in his-denying so long the authorship of his novels.

442

442 APPENDIX.

difficult doctrine; and, by consequence, that a given individual, such as I am, cannot agree with all (of them), 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 io 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 authoritative decision that " nothing in his works has been found worthy of censure," " censure 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 20 he has written, but nothing which comes under the ecclesiastical censures, 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 they were brought before the fitting authorities at Rome by the Archbishop of Besangon, the answer returned to him contained the 30 condition that those words were to be interpreted, " with due regard to the mind of the Holy See concerning the approbation of writings of the servants of God, ad effectum Canonizationis." This is intended to prevent any Catholic taking the words about St. Alfonso's works in too large a sense. Before a Saint is canonized, his works are examined and a judgment pronounced upon them. Pope Benedict XIV. says, " The end or scope of this judgment is, that it

28-29 they were brought before] a question on the subject was asked of 30-31 the condition] this condition, viz.

443

(NOTE G.) 443

may appear, whether the doctrine of the servant of God, which he has brought out in his writings, is free from any soever theological censure." And he remarks in addition, " It never can 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 disapproved (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 VIII., and that the judgment of the Revisers has

io been approved by the sacred Congregation, and confirmed by the Supreme Pontiff." The Decree of Urban VIII. 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. Vandenbroeck, 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

zo even gives them by consequence a degree of intrinsic probability." He adds that it gives St. Alfonso's theology an extrinsic probaTility, 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

so of each proposition, it follows, as Benedict XIV. has remarked, that we may combat the doctrine which they contain; only, since a canonized saint is in question, who is honoured by a solemn culte 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 censures : 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 5 The [ ] are in both 1864 and 1865.

444

444 APPENDIX.

heresy," and so on; and each of these terms has its own definite meaning. Thus by " erroneous " is meant, according to Viva, a proposition which is not immediately opposed to a revealed proposition, but only to a theological con clusion drawn from premisses which are de fide; " savouring of heresy (is) " [when] 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 to 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 Besangon went further than this ; it actually took pains to declare that any one who pleased might follow other theologians 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 20 opinions handed down by other approved authors."

And this too, I will observe, (-) that 8t. 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 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 which actually has 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 so 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 proscribed by the Church, a thing which 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[, first,] under the protection of (such 40

28 has] have

445

APPENDIX. 44&

authors as) Cardinal Gerdil, [who, in a work lately published at Rome, has the following passage, which I owe to the kindness of a friend

" In an oath one ought to have respect to the intention of the party swearing, and the intention of the party to whom the oath is taken. Whoso swears binds himself in virtue of the words, not according to the sense he retains in his own mind, but in the sense according to which he perceives that they are understood by him to whom the oath is

io made. When the mind of the one is discordant with the mind of the other, if this happens by deceit or cheat of the party swearing, he is bound to observe the oath according to the right sense (sans mente) of the party receiving it-; but, when the discrepancy in the sense comes of misunderstanding, without deceit of the party swearing, in that case he is not bound, except to that to which he had in mind to wish to be bound. It follows hence, that whoso uses mental reservation or equivocation in the oath, in order to deceive the party to whom he offers it, sins most grievously, and

so is always bound to observe the oath in the sense in which he knew that his words were taken by the other party, according to the decision of St. Augustine, ` They are perjured, who; having kept the words, have deceived the expectations of those to whom the oath was taken.' He who swears externally, without the inward intention of swearing, commits a most grave sin, arid remains all the same under the obligation to fulfil it .... In a word, all that is contrary the name <

ao sacrilege." NataZis A lexander.

" They certainly lie, who utter the words of an oath, and 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,

1 The passage in ( ], pp. 445-8, was omitted in 1865, where, after Gerdil, the following was added, Natalis Alexander, Contenson, Concina,

446

446 APPENDIX.

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 the circumstances of persons and businessmatters; and thus they abuse words which were instituted for the cherishing of society."

Contenson. " Hence is apparent how worthy of condemnation is the temerity of those half-taught men, who give a colour to lies and equivocations by the words and instances of Christ. Than whose doctrine, which is an art of deceiving, nothing is can be more pestilent. And that, both because what you do not wish done to yourself, you should not do to another ; now the patrons of equivocations and mental reservations would not like to be themselves deceived by others, &c . . . . and also because St. Augustine, &c. . : . In truth, as there is no pleasant living with those whose language we do not understand, and, as St. Augustine teaches, a man would more readily live with his dog than with a foreigner, less pleasant certainly is our converse with those who make use of frauds artificially covered, overreach their hearers by z~ deceits, address them insidiously, observe the right moment, and catch at words to their purpose, by which truth is hidden under a covering ; and so on the other hand nothing is sweeter than the society of those, who both love and speak the naked truth, . . . without their mouth professing one thing and their mind hiding another, or spreading before it the cover of double words. Nor does it matter that they colour their lies with the name of equivocrx tions or mental reservations. For Hilary says, ` The sense, not the speech, makes the crime.'. " ac

Concina allows of what I shall presently call evasions, but nothing beyond, if I understand him ; but he is most vehement against mental reservation of every kind, so I quote him.

Concina.

" That mode of speech, which some theologians call pure mental reservation, others call reservation not simply

447

APPENDIX. 447

mental; that language which to me is lying, to the greater part of recent authors is only amphibological . . . . I have discovered that nothing is adduced by more recent theologians for the lawful use of amphibologies which has not been made use of already by the ancients, whether philosophers or some Fathers, in defence of lies. Nor does there seem to me other difference when I consider their respective grounds, except that the ancients frankly called those modes of speech lies, and the more recent writers, not a few of them, call them amphibologieal, equivocal, and material."

fn another place he quotes C:aramuel, so 1 suppose 1 may so too, for the very reason that his theological reputation does not place him on the side of strictness. Concina says, " Caramuel himself, who bore away the palm from all others in relaxing the evangelical and natural law, says,

Caramuel.

" I have an innate aversion to mental reservations. If they are contained within the bounds of piety and sincerity, then they are not necessary; . . . but if [otherwise] they are the destruction of human society and sincerity, and are to be condemned as pestilent. Once admitted, they open the way to all lying, all perjury. And the whole difference in the matter is, that what yesterday was called a lie, changing, not its nature and malice, but its name, is to-day entitled ` mental reservation; ' and this is to sweeten poison with sugar, and to colour guilt with the appearance of virtue."

St. Thomas.

" When the sense of the party swearing, and of the party to whom he swears, is not the same, if this proceeds from the deceit of the former, the oath ought to be kept according to the right sense of the party to whom it is made. But if the party swearing does not make use of deceit, then he is bound according to his own sense."

20 These, [ ] are in T864.

448

448 APPENDIX. St. Isidore.

" With whatever artifice of words a man swears, nevertheless God who is the witness of his conscience, so takes the oath as he understands it, to whom it is sworn. And he becomes twice guilty, who both takes the name of God in vain, and deceives his neighbour."

St. Augustine.

" I do not question that this is most justly laid down, that the promise of an oath must be fulfilled, not according to the words of the party taking it, but according to the expectation of the party to whom it is taken, of which he who takes it is aware."]

to

[And now,] under the protection of these authorities, 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. Independently, 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 zo for my own 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 tease-of one of thosespecial and-rare exigencies or emergencies, which constitute the justa causes 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 matter too trivial. to provoke question, as in dealing with ao 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 shaft not kill; " murder is the formal transgression of this com-

10 The matter in [ ], pp. 445-8, was not reprinted in 1865.

449

(NOTE G.) 449

mandment, but accidental homicide is the material transgression. 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 commits 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

io act of stealing, that is, he does not commit a sin. .And so a baptized Christian, external 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 meeting those special cases, in which to mislead by words has

. a sufficient object, or has a just cause, is by a material lie.

The second mode is by an cequivocatio, which is not equivalent to the English word " equivocation," but means

$o sometimes a play capon words, sometimes an evasion(: we must take these two modes of misleading separately.)

2. A play capon words. St. Alfonso certainly says that a play upon words is allowable ; and, speaking under correction, I should say that he does so on -the ground that - lying is not a sin. against justice, that is, against our neighbour, but a sin against God; because words are the signs

. of ideas; and therefore if a void denotes two ideas, we are at liberty to use it in either of its senses : but I think I must be incorrect [here] in some respect (in supposing

so that the Saint does not recognize a. lie as an injustice), because the Catechism of the Council, as I have quoted it at p. 370, says; " Vanitate et mendacio fides ac veritas tolluntur, aretissima vineula societatis humance ; quibus sublatis*, sequitur summa vitae eenficsio, ut homines nihil a dcemonibus differre videantur."

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

450

450 APPENDIX.

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. [Bishop Butler seems distinctly to sanction such a proceeding, in a passage which I shall extract below.].

The greatest. school of evasion, I speak seriously, is the House of Commons ; arid necessarily so, from the nature of the case. And the hustings is another.

An instance is supplied in the history of St. Athanasius : to 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), and he ran (back) into Alexandria, and there lay hid till the end of the persecution.

I gave another instance above, m reference to a 'doctrine of religion. The early Christians did their best to conceal 2o 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, " We 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 evasions, and what are commonly called in English equivocations ; and of this difficult, 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 whole 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 discovered ; 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-

17 and] while 30

451

(NOTE G.) 451

truth is often a falsehood. And his defence must have been the junta causes, 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 junta causes (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 recognizing as allowable the method of silence.

Secondly, But, if I allow of silence, why not of the method of material lying, since half of a truth is often a lie? And, again, if all killing be not murder,: nor all taking from another stealing, why must all untruths be lies ? Now I will say freely that. I think. 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.

3 This I say for the benefit of those who speak hardly of Catholic theologians, on the ground that they admit textbooks which allow of equivocation. They are asked, how can we trust you, when such are your views ? but such views, as I already 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 lie imposes upon men in general. One special reason why religious men, after drawing out a theory, are unwilling to act upon it themselves, 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 wrong with (the sanction of) their conscience, than (be) right with (the mere judgment of) their reason. And again here is this

4o more tangible difficulty, in the case of exceptions to the 37 wrong] in error

452

452 APPENDIX.

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 off by legal enactments, so that it cannot 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 individual, 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 lo 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 danger [in. them] to the individual Catholic, for he would be acting under a rule.

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 20 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 the formal ao sentiment, but there is a truth in it, when spoken of material

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.

18 danger] perplexity 17 be noting under a rule] not be taking the law into his own heads 30 the] his

453

(NOTE G.) 453

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 example 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.

lo 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 follow from this that such conduct is a pattern to us, who have no supernatural means of determining when an untruth becomes a material, and not a 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

ao 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 gut for the police ; and next, if he was worsted in the conflict, he would not have given the ruffian the information he asked, at whatever risk to himself. I think he would have let himself

ao be killed first. I do not think that he would have _ told a lie.

4. A secret is a more difficult case. Supposing something 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 protected by my profession. I have a right to treat with extreme 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

4o untruth, or that, under such circumstances, a lie would be material, but it is almost an impossible case, for the

454

454 APPENDIX.

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 T had a duty to my client or penitent, such, that an 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 io Minister, who was sitting to him, " What news, my Lord, from France ? " He answered, " I do not know; I have not read the Papers."

5. A more difficult question is, when to accept confidence has 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 ao of it; but certainly, for myself, I am no friend of strictly anonymous writing. Next, supposing another has confided to you the secret of his authorship :(-)there are persons who would have no scruple 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 so 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 inquirer. 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 ? 40 have I any right to make such a promise ? and, if it be

455

(NOTE G.) 465

an unlawful promise, is it binding at the expense of a lie? I am not attempting to solve these difficult questions, but they have to be carefully examined. (And now I have said more than I had intended on a question of casuistry.)

[As I put into print some weeks ago various extracts from authors relating to the subject which I have been considering, I conclude by inserting them here, though they will not have a very methodical appearance:

For instance, St. Dorotheus : " Sometimes the necessity

io of some matter urges (incumbitj, which, unless you somewhat conceal and dissemble it, will turn into a greater trouble." And he goes on to mention the case of saving a- man who has committed homicide from his pursuers

and he adds that it is not a thing that can be done often, but once in a long time.

St. Clement in like manner speaks of it only as a necessity, and as -a necessary medicine.

Origen, after saying that God's commandment makes it a plain duty to speak the truth, adds, that a man, " when

zo necessity urges," may avail himself of a lie, as medicine, that is, to the extent of Judith's conduct towards Holo-, fernes ; and he adds that that necessity may be the obtaining of a great good, as Jacob hindered his father from giving the blessing to . Esau against the will of God.

Cassian says, that the use of a lie, in order to be allowable, . must be like the use of hellebore, which is itself poison, unless a man has a fatal disease on him. He adds, " Without the condition of an extreme necessity, it is a present ruin."

ao St. John Chrysostom defends Jacob on the ground that his deceiving his father was not done for the sake of tem= poral gain, but in order to fulfil the providential purpose of God ; and he says, that, as Abraham was not a murderer, though he was minded to kill his son, so an untruth need not be a lie. And he adds, that often such a deceit is the greatest possible benefit to the man who is deceived, and therefore allowable. Also St. Hilary, St: John Clima&s,

°&c., in Thomassin, Concina, the Melanges, &c. , , 1 at the expense of] when it cannot be kept without 5 1 The matter from leery to page 470 was not reprinted in 1865.

456

486 APPENDIX.

Various -modern Catholic divines hold this doctrine of the " material lie " also. I will quote three passages in point.

Cataneo: " Be it then well understood, that the obligation to veracity, that is, of conforming our words to the sentiments of our mind, is founded principally upon the necessity of human intercourse, for which reason they (i. e. words) ought not and cannot be lawfully opposed to this end, so just, so necessary, and so important, without which, the world would become a Babylon of confusion, io And this would in a great measure be really the result, as often as a man should be unable to defend secrets of high importance, and other evils would follow, even worse than confusion, in their nature destructive of this very intercourse between man and man for which speech was instituted. Every body must see the advantage a hired assassin would have, if supposing he did not know by sight the person he was commissioned to kill, I being asked by the rascal at the moment he was standing in doubt with his gun cocked,- were obliged to approve of his. deed by 20 keeping silence, or to hesitate; or lastly to answer ` Yes, that is the man.' [Then follow other similar cases.] In such and similar cases, in which your sincerity is unjustly assailed, when no other way more prompt or more efficacious presents itself, and when it is not enough to say, ` I do not know,' let such persons be met openly with a downright resolute ` No ' without thinking upon any thing else. For such a ` No ' is conformable to the universal opinion of men, who are the judges of words, and who certainly have got placed upon them obligations to the injury of the so Human Republic, nor ever entered into a compact to use them in behalf of rascals, spies, incendiaries, and thieves. I repeat that such a ` No ' is conformable to the universal mind of man, and with this mind your own mind ought to be in union and alliance. Who does not see the manifest advantage which highway robbers would derive, were travellers when asked if they had gold, jewels, &c., obliged either to invent tergiversations or to answer ` Yes, we have ? ' Accordingly in such `circumstances that ` No '

22 Then [ ] are in 1864.

457

APPENDIX.

which you utter [see Card. Pallav. lib. iii. c. xi. n. 23, de Fide, Spe, &c.] remains deprived of its proper meaning, and is like a piece of coin; from which by the command of the government the current value has been withdrawn, so that by using it you become in no sense guilty of lying."

Bolgeni says, " We have therefore proved satisfactorily, and with more than moral certainty, that an exception occurs to the general law of not speaking untruly, viz. when it is impossible to observe a certain other precept, more important, without telling a lie. Some persons indeed say, tat in the cases of impossibility which are above drawn out, what is said is not a lie. But a man who thus speaks confuses ideas and denies the essential characters of things. What is a lie? It is `locutio contra mentem ; ' this is its common definition. But in the cases of impossibility, a man speaks contra mentem ; that is clear and evident. Therefore he tells a lie. Let us distinguish between the lie and the sin. In the-above cases, the man really tells a lie, but this lie is not a sin, by reason of the

zo existing impossibility. To say that in those cases no one ,has a right to ask, that the words have .a meaning according to the common consent of men, and the like, as is paid by certain authors in order in those cases to exempt the lie from sin, this is to commit oneself to frivolous excuses, and to subject oneself to a number of retorts, when there is the plain reason of the abovementioned fact of impossibility."

And the Author in the Melanges Theologiques : " We have then gained this truth, and it is a conclusion of which

ao we have not the smallest doubt, that if the intention of deceiving our neighbour is essential to a- lie, it is allowable in certain cases to say what we know to be false, as, e..g.

to escape from a great danger. . M " But, let no one be alarmed, it is never allowable to lie ; in this we are in perfect agreement with the whole body of theologians. The only point in which we differ from them is in what we mean by a lie. They call that a lie which is not such in our view, or rather,, if you will,, what in our view is only a material lie they account to be

4o both formal and material." . .

1, 2 Tkeae [ ] are in 1864. -

Q 3

458

468 APPENDIX. Now to come to Anglican authorities.

Taylor: " Whether it can in any case be lawful to tell a lie ? To this I answer, that the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament do indefinitely and severely forbid lying. Prov. iii. fi ; xxg. 8. Ps. v. 6. John viii. 44. Col. iii. 9. Rev. gxi. 8. 27. Beyond these things, nothing can be said in condemnation of lying.

" But then lying is to be understood to be something said or written to the hurt of our neighbour, which cannot be understood otherwise than to differ from the mind of him io that speaks.. `A lie is petulantly or from a desire of hurting, to say one hing, or to signify it by gesture, and to think another thing 1 : ' so Melancthon, ` To lie is to deceive our neighbour to his hurt.' For in this sense a lie is naturally or intrinsically evil; that is, to speak a lie to our neighbour is naturally evil . . . . not because it is different from an eternal truth . . . . A lie is an injury to our neighbour .... There is in mankind a universal contract implied in all their intercourses. . . In justice we are bound to speak, so as that our neighbour do not lose his right, which by our 20 speaking we give him to the truth, that is, in our heart. And of a lie, thus defined, which is iwjurious to our neighbour, so long as his right to truth remains, it is that St. Austin affirms it to be simply unlawful, and that it can in no case be permitted, nisi forte regales quasdam daturus es.

. . If a lie be unjust, it can never become lawful ; but, if it can be separate from injustice, then it may be innocent. Here then I consider

" This right, though it be regularly and commonly belonging to all men, yet it may be taken away by a superior ao right intervening; or it may be lost, or it may be hindered,

or it may cease, upon a greater reason.

Therefore upon this account it was lawful for the children of Israel to borrow jewels- of the Egyptians, which supposes a promise of restitution, though they intended not to pry them back again. God gave commandment so to spoil them, and the Egyptians were divested of their rights, and were to be used lake enemies.

1 "h7endacium est petulanter, aut cupiditate nocendi, aliud loqui, sea gestu significare, et aliud sentire."

459

--------- APPENDIX. 459 " It is lawful to tell a lie to children or to madmen; because

they, having no powers of judging, have no right to truth; but then, the lie must be charitable and useful . . . . If a lie be told, it must be such as is for their good . . . and so do physicians to their patients . . . . This and the like were so usual, so permitted to physicians, that it grew to a proverb, ` You lie like a doctor 2; ' which yet was always to be understood in the way of charity, and with honour to the profession . . . . To tell a lie for charity, to save a man's

i 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 the rage of persecutors or tyrants ? . . . When the telling of a truth will certainly be the cause of evil to a man, though he have right to truth, yet it must

not be given to him to his harm .... Every truth is no more justice, than every restitution of a straw to the right

owner is a duty. ` Be not over-righteous,' says Solomon. . If it be objected, that we must not tell a lie-for God, therefore much less for our brother, I answer, that it does not follow ;for God needs not a lie, but our brother does . . . . Deceiving the enemy by the stratagem of actions or words,

is not properly lying; for this supposes a conversation, of law or peace, trust or promise explicit or implicit. A lie

is a deceiving of a trust or confidence."-Taylor, vol. giii. pp. 351--371, ed. Fleber.

It is clear that Taylor thought that veracity was one branch of justice; a social virtue; under the second table of the law, not under the first; only binding, , when

those to whom we speak have a claim.of justice upon us, which ordinarily all men have. Accordingly, in cases where a neighbour has no claim of justice upon us, there is no opportunity of exercising veracity, as, for instance, when he is mad, or is deceived by us for his own advantage. And hence, in such cases, a lie is not really a lie, as he says in one place, " Deceiving the enemy is not properly lying." Here he seems. to make that distinction common to Catholics ; viz. between what they call a material act and

' Mentiris ut medieue.

460

460 APPENDIX.

a formal act. Thus Taylor would maintain, that to say the thing that is not to a madman, has the matter of a lie, but the man who says it as little tells a formal lie, as the judge, sheriff, or executioner murders the man whom he certainly kills by forms of law.

Other English authors take precisely the same view, viz. that veracity is a kind of justice,-that our neighbour generally has a right to have the truth told him; but that he may forfeit that right, or lose it for the time, and then to say the thing that is not to him is no sin against veracity, lo that is, no lie. Thus Milton says 3, " Veracity is a virtue, by which we speak true things to him to whom it is equitable, and concerning what things it is suitable for the good of our neighbour. . ~ . All dissimulation is not wrong, for it is not necessary for us always openly to bring out the truth; 'chat only is blamed which is malicious..~. I do not see why that cannot be said of lying which can be said of homicide and other matters, which are not weighed so much by the deed as by the object and end of acting. What man in his senses will deny that there are those whom we 20 have the best of grounds for considering that we ought to deceive,-as boys, madmen, the sick, the intoxicated, enemies, men in error, thieves? . . . Is it a point of conscience not to deceive them ? . . I would ask, by which of the commandments is a lie forbidden ? You will say, by the ninth. Come, read it out, and you will agree with me. For whatever is here forbidden comes under the head of injuring one's neighbour. If then any lie does not injure one's neighbour, certainly it is not forbidden by this commandment. It is' on this ground that, by the judgment of 30 theologians, we shall acquit so many holy men of lying. Abraham, who said to his servants that he would return with his son; . , the wise man understood that it did not matter to his servants to know [that his son would not return], and that it was at the moment expedient for himself that they should not know... Joseph would be a man of many lies if the common definition of lying held; [also] Moses, Rahab, Ehud, Jael, Jonathan." Here again

a The Latin original is given at the end of the Appendix. 34, 36, 37 These [ ] are in 1864.

461

APPENDIX. speak the truth, we need not speak the truth to him. ~~

And so, again, Paley: " A lie is a breach of promise; for whoever seriously addresses his discourse to another tacitly promises to speak the truth, because he knows that the truth is expected. Or the obligation of veracity may be made out from the direct ill consequences of lying to social happiness... There are falsehoods which are not lies ; that is, which are not criminal." (Here, let it be observed, is the same distinction as in Taylor between material and formal untruths:) " 1. When no one is deceived. . . 2. When the person to whom you speak has no right to know the truth, or, more properly, when little or no inconveniency results from the want of confidence in such cases, as where you tell a falsehood to a madman for his own advantage ; to a robber, to conceal your property; to an assassin, to defeat or divert him from his purpose... It is upon this principle that, by the laws of war, it is allowable to deceive an enemy by feints, false colours, spies,- false intelligence. . . Many people indulge, in serious discourse, a habit of fiction or exaggeration. . . So long as . , their narratives, though false, are inoffensive, it may seem a superstitious regard to truth to censure them merely for truth's sake." Then he goes on to mention reasons against such a practice, adding, " I have seldom known any one who deserted truth in trifles that could be trusted in matters of importance."-Works, vol. iv: p. 123.

Dr. Johnson, who, if any one, has the reputation of being a sturdy moralist, thus speaks

` We talked," says Bosvvell, "of the easuistical question,whether it was allowable at any time to depart from truth." Johnson. " The general rule is, that truth should never be violated; because it is of the utmost importance to the comfort of life; that we should have a full security by mutual faith; and occasional inconveniences should be willingly suffered, that we may preserve it. There wrist, however, be some exceptions. If, for instance, a murderer should ask you which way a man is gone, you may tell him what is not true, because you are under a previous obligation not to betray a man to a murderer." Boswell. " Sup-

462

462 APPENDIX.

posing the person who wrote Junius were asked whether he was the author, might he deny it? " Johnson. " I don't know what to say to this. If you were sure that he wrote Junius, would you, if he denied it, think as well of him afterwards ? Yet it may be urged, that what a man has no right to ask, you may refuse to communicate ; and there is no other effectual mode of preserving a secret, and an important secret, the discovery of which may be very hurtful to you, but a flat denial; for if you are silent, or hesitate, or evade, it will be held equivalent to a confession. to But stay, sir ; here is another case. Supposing the author had told me confidentially that he had written Junius, and I were asked if he had, I should hold myself at liberty to deny it, as being under a previous promise, express or implied, to conceal it. Now what I ought to do for the author, may I not do for myself ? But I deny the lawfulness of telling a lie to a sick man for fear of alarming him. You have no business with consequences; you are to tell the truth. Besides, you are not sure what effect your telling him that he is in danger may have; it may bring his dis- zo temper to a crisis, and that may cure him. Of all lying I have the greatest abhorrence of this, because I believe it has been frequently practised on myself. "-Boswell's Life, vol. iv. p. 277.

There are English authors who allow of mental reservation and equivocation; such is Jeremy Taylor.

He says, " In the same cases in which it is lawful to tell a lie, in the same cases it is lawful to use a mental reservation."-Ibid. p. 374.

He says, too, " When the things are true in several ao senses, the not explicating in what sense I mean the words is not a criminal reservation... But 1. this liberty is not to be used by inferiors, but by superiors only; 2. not by those that are interrogated, - but by them which speak voluntarily; 3. not by those which speak of duty, but which speak of grace and kindness."-Ibid. p. 378.

Bishop Butler, the first of Anglican authorities, writing in his grave and abstract way, seems to assert a similar doctrine in the following passage:--

" Though veracity, as well as justice, is to be our rule of 4o

463

APPENDIX. 483

life, it must be added, otherwise a snare will be laid in the way of some plain men, that the use of common forms of speech generally understood, cannot be falsehood; and, in general, that there can be no designed falsehood without designing to deceive. It must likewise be observed, that, in numberless case, a man may be under the strictest obligations to what he foresees will deceive, without his intending it. For it is impossible not to foresee, that the words and actions of men in different ranks and employments, and of different educations' will perpetually be mistaken by each other; and it cannot but be so, whilst they will judge with the utmost carelessness, as they daily do, of what they are tot perhaps enough informed to be competent3udyes of, even though they considered it with great attention."-Nature of Virtue, fin. These last words seem in a measure to anwser to the words in Scavini, that an equivocation is permissible, because " then we do not deceive our neighbour, but allow him to deceive himself." In thus speaking, I have not the slightest intention of saying any thing disrespectful to Bishop Butler; and still less of course to St. Alfonso.

And a third author, for whom I have a great respect, as different from the above two as they are from each other, bears testimony to the same effect in his " Comment on Scripture," Thomas Scott. He maintains indeed that Ehud and Jael were divinely directed in what they did; but they could have no divine direction for what was in itself wrong.

Thus on Judges iii. 15-21: " ` And Ehud said, I have a secret errand unto thee,

3o O king; I have a message from God unto thee, and Ehud thrust the dagger into his belly..' Ehud, indeed," says Scott, " had a secret errand; a message from God unto him; but it was of afar different nature than Eglon expected."

And again on Judges iv. 18-21

" ` And Jael said, Turn in, my lord, fear not. And he said to her, When any man doth inquire, Is ' there any man here ? thou shaft say, No. Then Jael took a nail, and smote the nail into his temple.' Jael," says Scott, " is not said to have promised Sisera that she would deny his

... L__~_. ~L___ .1 . o o . . v n. .

464

NOTES (Not reprinted in 1865.)

THE following are the originals of some of the passages translated under this last Head:-

Gerdil.

" Nel giuramento si dee riguardare 1'intenzione di chi giura, e I'intenzione di quello a cui si presta il giuramento. Chicunque giura si obbliga in virtu delle parole non secondo il senso ch' egli si ritiene in manta, ma nel senso secondo cui egli cognosce the sono intese . da quello a cui si fa il giuramento. Allorehe la manta dell' uno a discordante dalla manta dell' altro, se cio avviene per dolo a inganno dal giurante, questi a obbligato ad osservare il giuramento secondo la sana manta di chi la ha ricevuto ; ma quando la discrepanza nel senso proviene da mala intelligenza senza dolo di chi giura, in quel caso egli non a obbligato se non a cio the avea in manta di volersi obbligare. Da cib segue the chiunque usa restrizione mentale o equivocazione nel giuramento per ingannare la parte cui egli to presta, pecca gravissimamente, ed 6 sempre obbligato ad osservare il giuramento nel senso in cui egli sapea ehe le sue parole erano prese dall' aItro, secondo la decisione di S. Augostino (epist. 224) ` Perjuri sunt qui servatis verbis, egpectationem eorum quibus juratum est deceperunt.' Chi giura esternamente senza interna intenzione di giurare, comrnette gravissimo peccato; a rimane con tutto cio nell' obbligo di adimperlo . . . . . In somma tutto the e contrario alla buona fade, a iniquo, a facendovi intervenire il nome di Dio si aggrava 1'iniquita colla reita dal sacrilegio."-Opusc Theolog. Rom. 1851, j?. 28.

Natatis Alexander.

" Perjurium est mendacium juramento firmatum. Illos vero mentiri compertum est, qui juramenti verba proferunt, et jurare vel obligare se nolunt, aut qui restrictiones mentales et aequivocationes jurando adhibent, siquidem verbis significant quod' in manta non habent, contra finem propter quern institutae sunt votes, ut videlicet sint signa ~conceptuum. Vel aliud volunt quam vexba significant secundum se et secundum communem loquendi morem, et personarum ac negotiorum circumstantias ; atque ita verbis ad societatem fovendam institutis abutuntur.''-Theol. Lib. iv. c. iv. Art. 3. Reg. ~11.:

465

NOTES. Contention. 465

" Atque ex his apparet quam damnanda sit eorum semidoctorum temeritas, qui mendacia et aequivocationes verbis et egemplis Christi pia2colorant. Quorum doctrine, quae tins fallendi est, nihil pestilential else potent. Tum quia quod tibi non vin fieri, alteri ne feceris; sad aequivocationum, ac restrictionum mentalium patroni, aequo ammo non paterentur se ab alas illudi : ergo illud oecumenicum naturae principium nulli ignotum, omnibus quamlibet barbaris implantatum violent. Tum quia urget argumentum Augustinus, etc .... Sane sicut aegr6 cum illis convivimus, quorum linguam non intelligimus ; et authore Augustino, lib. 19, de Civic. ` L ibentius vivit homo cum cane suo, quam cum homine alieno : ' aegrius cert6 cum illis conversamur qui fraudes artificio teetal adhibent, audiences circumveniunt dolis, insidiis eon petunt, tempus observant, verbaque idonea aucupantur, quibul veritas veluti quodam involucro obtegitur: sicut a contra nihil eorum convictu suavius,-qui ab omni simulandi studio longe absences, sincero ammo, candido ingenio, aperta, voluntate praediti aunt, oderunt antes, nudam veritatem .tam arrant,, quam loquuntur : quorum denique menus linguae, lingua cordi, con rationi, ratio Dec congruit, et Iota vita unius faciei est, unius et coloris : nee aliud os prx se fart, aliud animus celat, et verborum duplicium velo obtendit. Carte tolerabilior antic Babylonica confusio, in qua invicem loquentes se minip6 intelfigebant, eorum convietu, qui non se intelligunt, nisi ut sane mutuo decipiant.

" Nee obest quod nomine sequivocationum, vel restrictionum mentalium mendacia fucent. Nam ut sit HiIarius lib. 2. de Trinit.,. ` Sensus, non sermo, fit crimen. O ubi simplicitas Christians, quae regale ille Legislatoris sui Christi contents est : Sit sermo vaster, Est est, Non non!' - O ubi est mulier ills virilis totem Probabilistarum aequivooationibusveniam dantium nationem confusura! quae reference Hieronymo epist. 49, nee ad gravissimos torturarum et dirge mortis cruciatus vitandos vequivocationum alum septies-icta advocavit."-Theol. vii. p. 30,

Concina. " Cardo disputationis Augustinianae, in duobus recenlitis libris, potissimum in eo vertitur, ut rational praebeantur pro veritatis occultatione in negotiis summi momenti : . . August`mus nulls reperire remedia, potuit prxter hoec : Primum est silentium . . . Alterum est aperta et invicta significatio . . . . Nullam aliam viam oceultandi veritatem agnovit, non restrictiones internal, non inateriales locutiones, non verborum amphibolias, non alia juniorum invents.-Theo1 T, iii. p. 278. Lib. v. in_Decal. Dies. 3. e. b. prop. 2d. " . . Aged autem omnium scopulorum; et difficultatum origo

quia cum non possit rectae disputationi locus else, nili id pateat de. quo est disputandum ; eertas et claras notional aequivocationum;

466

486 NOTES.

amphibologiarum, et mentalium restrictionum praefinire minims possumus, attentia recentiorum distinctiunculis, efiugiis, et thecnis, quo rem hanc masime implicatam effieiunt. Has ambages ut evitarem, cursum inceptum abrumpere, telamque redordiri, atque reteaere decrevi: idque consilii cepi, ut primum omnium de mendacio sermonem instituam. Illud namque commodi mihi peracta controversiae tractatio attulit, ut deprehenderim, nihil a recentioribus Theologis pro licito amphibologiarum usu efPerri quod prius ab antiquis tum Philosophic, tum Patribus aliquibus usurpatum non fuerit in mendaciorum patrocinium. Nee aliud discrimen mihi utrorumque fundamenta perpendenti occurrit, nisi quod antiqui eas locutiones quas recentiorum Theologorum non pauci amphibologicas, aequivocas, et maLeriales voeant, ingenua sinceritate mendacia appellaverint."-Diss. iii. De Juram. Dol. etc.

Caramuel.

" . Est mihi," inquit, " innata aversio contra reatrictiones mentales. Si enim continentur inter terminos pietatis, et sinceritatis, necessaries non aunt. Nam omnia quae ipsae praestare posaunt, praestabunt consignificantes circumstantix. Quod si tales dicantur, ut etiam ibi admittendae sint, ubi desunt circumstantix signifioantes (ignoscant mihi earumdem auctores, et propugnatores) tollunt humanam societatem, et securitatem, et tamquam pestiferae damnandae aunt. Quoniam semel admissae aperiunt omni mendacio, omni perjurio viam. Et Iota differentia in eo erit ut quod heri vocabatur mendacium, naturam, et malitiam non mutet, sed nomen, ita ut hodie jubeatur Restrietio mentalis nominari ; quod eat virus condire saecharo, et scelus specie virtutis colorare.-Apud Concinam Theol. Dies. iii. De Juram. Dol. etc.

S. Thomas.

" Quando non eat eadem jurantis intentio, et ejus cui jurat, si hoc proveniat e$ dolo jurantis, debet juramentum servari secundum sanum intellectum ejus, cui juramentum praestatur: Si autem prans dolum non adhibeat, obligatur seeundum intentionem jurantis."-Apud Nat. Alex.

S. Isidorus.

" Quacunque arts verborum quisquis juret, Deus tamen qui conscientiae testis eat, ita hoe accipit, sicut ills, cui juratur, intelligit. Dupliciter autem reus fit, qui et Dei nomen in vanum assumit, et progimum dolo capit."-Apud Nat. Alex.

S. AugusEinus.

" Illud cants rectissime dici non ambigo, non secundum verba jurantis, sed secundum egpectationem illius cui juratur, quam novit ills qui jurat, fidem jurationis impleri. Nam verba difficillimg

467

NOTES. 487

comprehendunt, magime breviter, sententiam eujua a jurante fides egigitur. Unde perjuri aunt, qui servatis verbis, eapectationem eorum, quibus juratum eat, deceperunt: et perjuri non aunt, qui etiam verbis non servatis, illud quod ab eis cum jurarent egpectatum eat, impleverunt."-Apud Natal. Alex.

Cattaneo. " Sappiasi dunque, the 1' obligo dells veracit,&, eio6, di conformers le parole ai sentimenti dell' ammo nostro, egli a principalmente fondato nella necessity dal commercio umano ; onde ells non devono giammai n6- possono lecitamente opporsi a questo fine, si giusto, si necessario, a si importance; tolto il quale, diverebbe il mondo una Babilonia di confusions. E cib accaderebbe in gran parts, ogni qua] volts non si potessero custodhe, ne difendere i segreti d' alts importanza, a ne seguissero altri mall anche peggiori, distruttivi di for nature di questo stesso commercio, per cui ' 6 stato istituito il parlare. Ognun vede, quanto tornerebbe in aceoncio ad un manda tario, se non conoscendo la persona, the dove uceidere, io da lui in terrogato, mantra il creditors sty dubbioso coll' archibugio gig. alzato, dovessi, o approver col silenzio, o titubare, o riapondergli, ` Si egli 6 il tale.' . . . . . In somiglianti casi, ne quali visne ingiuata· manta assalita la vostra sincerity, quando non sovvenga altro mezzo pin pronto, a piu afficace, a quando non basti dire ` no'1 so;' piantisi pure in faccia a costoro un `No' franco a risoluto, aenza pensar ad altro. Imperocche un cal ` no ' egli a conforms ells manta universals degli uomini, i quali sono arbitri dells parole, a certamente non le hanno obligate a danno dells Republics umana, ne hanno gig mai pattuito di usarle in pro di furbi, di spie, d' incendarii, di masnadieri, a di ladri. Torno a dire, the quel No egli a conforms ells manta universals degli uomini, e a quests manta dove esser unite a collegata anche la vostra. Chi non vede I' u tile manifesto, the ne trarrebbero gli assassini di strada, se i passeggieri interrogati se abbian seco oro, o gamma dovissero, o tergiversare, o rispondere, ` si the I' abbiamo ; ' adunque, in tall congiiinture, quel ` No,' the voi proferite (Card. Pallav. lib. iii. c. $i. n. 23 ale fide, ape, &c.) rests privo dal suo significato a recta appunto agguisa di una moneta, a cui per volere dal Principio; sia s$ato tolto il valore, con eW prima correva ; onde in niun modo voi siete reo di menzogna." Lezione xliv. Prima Parts. Bolgeni.

" Abbiamo dunque bane, a eon eertezza pid the morale, provata una eccezione da porsi ells legge generals di non menthe, cio6, quando non si posse oseervare qualche altro precetto pid importance se non col dh bugia. lhcono alcuni the nei casi della impoasibilita sopra esposta non 6 bugia, quello the si dice. Ma chi dice cosi, confonde le idea, a nags I'essenza dells core. Che coca o la bugia 2 Bet locutao contra mentem : e osi la definiseono tutti. Atqui nei easi

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delta impossibilitfi, sovra esposta ai parla contra mentem: c io 6 chiaro ed evidente. Dunque si dice bugia. Distinguiamo la bugia dal peccato. Nei casi detti si dice realmente bugia ; ma quests bugia non 6 peccato per ragione dells impossibilita. Il dire the in quei casi niuno ha diritto d'interrogare ; the le parole significano secondo la convenzione comune fra gli uomini ; e cose simili, the da alcuni Autori si dicono per esimere da peccato la bugia in quei casi : questo a un attaccarsi a ragioni frivole, a soggette a molte repliche quando si ha la ragione evidente delta citata impossibilita." -Il Possesso, c. 48.

Author in the Melanges Theologiques.

" 11 reste done acquis, et nous n'avons pas le moindre doute sur la verite de cette conclusion, que si 1'intention de tromper le prochain, est essentielle au mensonge, il sera permis de dire ce qu'on sait sire faux, en certain cas, comme pour eviter un grand danger . . . . . . . . Au rests, que personne ne s'effraie, il ne sera jamais permis de mentir, et en cela noun sommes d'accord sues tour les thgologiens : nous noun eloignons d'eux en ce seal point qu'ils appellerit mensonye, ce qui ne Pest pas pour nous, ou si Pon vent, its regardent comme mensonge formel et materiel ee qui pour nous est seulement un mensonge materiel."-Melanges Theologiques, vime Serie, p. 442.

Milton.

" Veracitas est Virtus qua ei cui 3equum est, et quibus de rebus convenit ad bonum proximi, vera dicimus. Psal. xv. 2. Prov. xii. 21, 17 ; xx. 8. Zech. viii. 16. Eph. iv. 25.

" Huic opponitur dissimulatio vitiosa. Nam omnis non improbatur : non enim semper vera palam expromere necesse habemus

ea tantum reprehenditur quae malitiosa est.

" Secundo opponitur mendacium. Psal. v. 7. xii. 2, 3. Prov. xiii. 5 ;. xix. 5. Joan viii. 44. Apoc. xxii. 15. Mendacio itaque no Dei quidem causa est utendum. Job xiii,, 7.

" ilZendacium vulgo. definitur, quo falsum animo fallendi verbis factisve aigni, ficatur. Sed quoniam saepe usu venit, ut non solum very dissimulare, aut reticere, sed etiam fallendi ammo falsa dicers, utile ac salutare proximo sit, danda opera est, ut mendacium quid sit melius definiamus. eque enim video cur non idem de meridacio, quod de homicidio aliisque rebus, de quibus infra dicetur, nunc dici possit, quae non tam facto, quam objecto et fine agendi ponderanda aunt. Esse enim quos jape optimo fallendos putemus, quis sanus negaverit 9 quid enim pueros, quid furentes, quid regrotos, quid ebrios, quid hostes, quid falIentes, quid latrones P (eerie juxta illud tritum, Cui nullum est jus, ei nulla,fit injuries : ) an illos ne fallamus religio erit ?' per hane tamen definitionem rie illos quidem dictis aut factis falters licebit. Certe si gladiuxn, aliamve rem quam spud me sanus deposuerit; eidexri futenti non reddiderim,

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NOTES. 469

cur veritatem non depositam, ei ad quern veritas minima pertineat, male uauro expromam? F:nimvero ai quidquid cuicunque interroganti respondetur fallendi ammo, mendacium eat censendum, profecto sanctis viris et prophetic nihil familiarius erat quam mentiri.

" Quid si igitur mendacium hoc modo definiamus P .ilTendacium eat cum quis dolo malo cut veritatem depravat, cut falsum dicit ei, qicicunque is sit, cui dicers veritatem ex officio debuerat. Sic diabolus Serpens primus erat mendax, Gen. iii. 4. et Cain, cap. iv. 9. et Sara, cap. xviii. 15. angelic enim merito ofiensis non satisfecit ingenua confessions : et Abrahamua, cap. xii. 13. et cap. xx. illud enim de Sara tanquam sorore figmentum, ut ipse didicisse poterat in A;gypto, quamvis incolumitatem vitae sibi proposuerat solam, homines tamen inscientes in errorem et alieni cupiditatem induxit : et Davides fugiena, 1 Sam. xxi. 3. debebat enim non celacse Abimelecum quo loco rea suss spud regem assent, neque tantum periculum hoapiti creare : sic Ananias et Sapphira, Act. v., mentiti aunt.

" Ex hat definitions, lmo, haud recur atxue ex alters, patet, parabolas, hyperbolas, apologos, ironias mendacia non else : haec enim omnia non fallendi sad erudiendi studio adhibentur. 1 Regum xviii. 27. et xxii. 15. 2do, si fallendi vocem aignificatione debits sumamus, neminem quidem fallere poterimus, quin sum eadem opera laedamus. Quern igitur nullo modo laedimus, sad vel juvamus, vel ab injuria cut inferenda cut patienda prohibemus, sum carte ne falso quidem milliea ditto revers fallimus, sad vero potius beneficio necopinantem afficimus. 3tio, dolor et strategemata in hello, modo absit perfidia cut perjurium, non arse mendacia omnes concedunt

quae coneeccio alteram definitionem plane destruit. Vix enim ullx insidiae cut doll in hello strui possum, quin palam idque aummo fallendi studio dicantur multa qu2e falaissima aunt : unde per illam definitionem mendacio absolvi nequeunt. Hanc igitur potius ob cauaam liters atrategemata dicendum erit, etiam cum mendacio conjuncts, eo quod, si quis est cui verum dicers officii nostri non sit, nihil carte interest an illi, quotiec expedit, etiam falsum dicamua : net video cur hoc in hello magic quam in pace liceat, praesertim quotiec injuriam cut periculum a nobismetipsis cut a proximo salutari et probo quodam menda,cio depellere licet.

" Quae igitur testimonia scripturae contra mendacium proferuntur, de eo intelligenda aunt mendacio, quod cut Dei gloriam cut nostrum proximive bonum imminuere videatur. Hujusmodi aunt, prdeter ea quae supra citavimus, Lev. xix. Ps. ci. 7. Prov. vi. 18, 17. Jer. i$. 5. His atque aliis hujusmodi locis veritatem dicers jubemur : at cui ? non hosti, non furioso, non violento, non aicario ; sad proximo, quicum acilicet pax et justa societal nobis intercedit. Jam vero ai veritatem coli prosimo dicers jubemur, profecto its qui nomen proximi non merentur, ne falsum quidem, quoties opus est, dicers vetamur. Qui aliter sentit, ex eo libena quaererem, quonam decalogi

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Age, reoitet modo, et mecum sentiet: quidquid enim hie prohibetur, id proximum laedere ostenditur ; siquod igitur mendacium non lsedit proximum, sub hoc certe mandate nequaquam prohibetur.

" Hine tot sanctissimos viros theologorum fere judicio mendacii reos merito absolvemus : Abrahamum, Gen. xxii. 6. cum dixit servis suis se reversurum cum filio ; fallendi tamen ammo, nequid illi suspicarentur ; cum ipse persuasus esset maetatum ibi filium se relieturum; nam nisi ita sibi persuasisset, quid hoc magnopere tentationis Brat ? sed intellexit vir sapiens nihil interesse servorum hoc ut scirent, sibi expedire in pra-mentia ne scirent. Rebeccam et Jacobum, Gen. xxvii., prudenti enim astutia et cautione aditum sibi muniebant ad jus illud haereditatis quod alter vili vendiderat ; ad jus, inquam, et oraculo et redemptione jam suum. At patri imposuit : immo potius errori patris, qui amore praepostero in Esauum ferebatur, tempestive occurrit. Josephum, Gen. xlii. 7, etc. multorum sane mendaciorum hominem, si vulgari illa definitions stetur : quam multa enim dixit non vera, eo ammo ut fratres falleret ? dolo tamen fratribus non malo, sed utilissimo. Obstetrices Hebricas, Exod. i. 19, etc., comprobante etiam Dee; fefellerant enim Pharaonem, non lteserant tamen, sed beneficio potius affeceran:t, dum male faciendi facultatem ademerunt. Mosen,_ Exod., iii., etiam a Dec jussum iter tridui a Pharaone petere, quasi ad .rem ' ;divinam faeiendam in deserto ; eo licet consilio petentem ut Pharaoxii verba daret ; non causam enim pro causa, vel fictam saltem pro very profectionis afferebat. Universum populum Israeliticum, Exod, -xi. et xii., ab eodem Dec jussum aurum, vasa, vestemque pretiosam ab AEgyptiis mutuam petere ; et pollicitum sine dubio reddere

fallendi tamen ammo ; quidni enim et Dei hostea et 4ospitii violatores et spoliatores jamdiu sues? Raabbam, Jos. ii` 4, 5, splendide mentitam, nee sine fide; fallebat enim quos. Deus falli voluit, populates licet sues, et magistratus : quos voluit We salvos - conservabat ; civile officium religions recte pasthabuit. Ehudem, qui duplici mendacio Eglonem fefellit, Judie. iii. 19, 20. nec injuria tamen, quippe hostem ; idque Dei non injussu. Jaelem, quae confugientem ad se Siseram blanditiis perdidit, Judie. iv. 18, 19. hostem licet Dei magic quam suum : quamquam id non mendacio, sed pia fraude factum vult Junius, quasi quidquam interesset. Jonathanem, dum rogatus ab amico Davide causam ejus absentim fictam refert patri, 1 Sam. xx. 6, 28. malebat enim innocentis saluti quam patris crudelitati officiosum se ease ; et majoris erat moments ad charitatem ut innocentis amici consuleretur vitae, interposito licet mendacio, quam ut patri ad malefieium exequendum veritatis inutili confessione mos gereretur. Hos atque alios tot viros sanetissi~ mos vulgari illa definitions mendacii condemnatos, vetuli ex limbo quodam patrum disquisitio haec veritatis accuratior educit."]

The matter between [ ], pp . 455-470, was not reprinted in 1866.

471

(SUPPLEMENTAL MATTER.) 471 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, [omitting several pamphlets and articles in Reviews &c. of minor importance.] (as follows 1. Life and Writings of Cicero . . Griffin. 2. Life of Apollonius Tyanxua and Essay on Scrip ture Miracles ~ . Griffin. [3. Article in London Review, on Greek Tragedy Oat of print.] (3. Articles in the Christian Observer (excluding the footnotes) 1821, p. 293, Mathematics, and 1822, p. 623, Religious Students in British Review, May 1824, Duncan's Travels; in Theological Review, June 1825, Cooper's Crisis and Robinson's Acts; and in London Review, 1828, Greek Tragedy . Out of print.) 4. History of the Arians . . . . . Lumley. 5-10. Parochial Sermons . . . . (Vole. 1 and 4) Out of print. 11. Plain Sermons (vol. 5th) . . , . Rivingtons. 12. (In the British Magazine, 1833-1836, Home Thoughts Abroad [in the British Magazine 1832-1826] ,(, and 1834, On Convocation) . Out of print. 13. Tracts for the Times (smaller, Tracts), Nos. 1, 2. 6, 7, 8. 10, 11. 19, 2, 21. 34. 38. 41. 40. 47 . . . ~ Rivingtons. pots for the Times (larger Tracts), Nos. 71. 73. 75. 79. 82, 83. 85. 88. 90 . Rivingtons. 14. Pamphlets(, 1830-1841. 1. Suggestions ~ in be half of the Church Missionary Society). 1(2). Suffragan Bishops. :(3). Letter to Faussett. 3(4). Letters by Catholicus. 4~5~ Letter to ,pelf. 5(6). Letter to Bishop o Oxford . . . . . . . . Out of print. (E$oept Suffragan Bishops Rivingtona)

472

472 ' LIST OF WRITINGS. 15. Articles in British Critic, 1836-1842. 1. Apostolical Tradition. 2. Dr. Wiseman's Lectures. 3. De la Mennais. 4. Geraldine. 5. Memorials of Oxford. 6. Exeter Hall. 7. Palmer on the Church of Christ. 8. St. Ignatius of Antioch. 9. State of Religious Parties. 10. American Church. 11. Ca tholicity of the English Church. 12. Coun tess of Huntingdon. 13. Antichrist. 14. Milman's Christianity. 15. Bowden's Hil debrand. 16. Private Judgment. 17. Da- vison . . . . . . . .Out of print. Church of the Fathers . . . . . . . Duffy. Prophetical Office of the Church . . . . . Out of print. Rivingtons. Rivingtons.

Doctrine of Justification University Sermons .

Sermons on Subjects of the Day . [Out of print.] (Rivmgtons.) Annotated Translation of St. Athanasius Parker, Oxford. Essay on Ecclesiastical Miracles . . . . . Rivingtons. Essay on Development of Doctrine . . . . Toovey. Dissertatiunculae Critico-Theologicae . . . . Out of print. Loss and Gain . . . . Burns and Lambert. Sermons to Mixed Congregations

Anglican Difficulties.

Catholicism in England . Lectures on the Turks University Education

Duffy. Duffy. Duffy. Duffy. Longman. Office and Work of Universities . .: . . Longman. Lectures on University Subjects . . . . . Longman. Verses on Religious Subjects . . . . Out of print. (Vide also 8 in Lyra Apostolica.) Callista , . . . . . . . . Burns and Lambert. Occasional Sermons . . . Burns and Lambert. (In the) Rambler, 1859-1860. Ancient Saints, 1-5. ~ Burns and Lambert. (In the) Atlantis, 1. Benedictine Order. 2. Bene- dictine Centuries. 3. St. Cyril's Formula Longman. Apologia pro Vita sua . . . . . . . . Longman.

473

(SUPPLEMENTAL MATTER.) 473 [POSTSCRIPTUM. JUNE 4, 1864.

WHILE I was engaged with these concluding pages, I received another of those special encouragements, which from several quarters have been bestowed upon me, since my controversy began. It was the extraordinary honour done me of an Address from the Clergy of this large Diocese, who had been assembled for the Synod.

It was followed two days afterwards by a most gracious testimonial from my Bishop, Dr. Ullathorne, in the shape of a Letter which he wrote to me, and also inserted in the Birmingham Papers. With his leave I transfer it to my own Volume, as a very precious document, completing and recompensing, in a way most grateful to my feelings, the anxious work which has occupied me so fully for nearly ten weeks.]

LETTER OF APPROBATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT FROM THE BISHOP OF THE DIOCESE OF BIRMINGHAM, DR. ULLATHORNE.)

" Bishop's House, June 2,1884. " 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 relatibn~of duty towards each other. This has been one of the singular

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474 POSTSCRIPTUM.

blessings 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 uncalled for, if every kind of erroneous impresgian that some persons have entertained 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 productions 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 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

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(SUPPLEMENTAL MATTER.) 47s

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 presidency.

" 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 aid 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 elements together. You alone know what difficulties you had to conciliate and what to surmount, before the work reached that state of consistency and promise, which enabled you to return to those responsibilities in England which you had never laid aside or suspended. And here, excuse me if I give expression to a fancy which passed through my mind.

" I was lately reading a poem, not, long published, from the MSS. De Rerum Natures, by Neckham, the fosterbrother 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 match of its literary learning to that country; and the prophecy says that after long years Oxford will pass into Ireland-` Vada boum 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 prophecy 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

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schools, were the first work of the Birmingham Oratory. After several years of close and hard work, arid a considerable call upon the. private resources of the Fathers who had established this congregation, it was delivered over to other hands, and the Fathers removed to the district 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.

" I 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 solicitation 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

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(SUPPLEMENTAL MATTER.) 477

.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 my 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 bless 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." THE END.

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479