[Letters and Correspondence—1842]


January 3, 1842.
I did not contemplate any delay in your act. When I mentioned Convocation, I only spoke of delay in the decision which would be the answer to it. I do not see why you {341} could not lodge your Protest with the Archbishop as President of the Convocation. So he was addressed, I believe, in the 'Declaration' of 1833 at the beginning of matters. And you might also send it round to the Bishops as members of the Upper House.

All this is on the supposition that we must go to Convocation, which is a great difficulty indeed. Convocation though it might restrain the acts of the Bishops, would also abridge our liberty. It might alter Rubrics, and if Hook has subscribed to the Jerusalem Fund, and Palmer [of Worcester] defended, and if Manning and Sam Wilberforce are at least not for Isaac Williams, what can we expect from Convocation, of which they are the best specimens? One has no right to anticipate evil, but I fear that Convocation would only perplex the path of duty (perplexed enough already) by leaving it more uncertain than now how far we were a Catholic Body. Even Pusey, in his first impulse, was ready enough to grant the Archbishop the term 'Protestant,' who asked him to allow it. I think he would if left to himself. Is there not a great chance of Convocation, by way of saving other points, recognising our Protestantism? which would be fearful.

All this being considered, I, on the whole, come to your opinion to leave Convocation alone, merely as not liking to take the responsibility of a step which may be miserable. The Bishops are a real and existing power; the Convocation is not. If it is to be called into existence, let others call it. At the same time I do think we should be safer in the hands of Convocation than in those of the Bishops; that is, such extreme things would not be done in Convocation as by the Bishops. Yet what right have we to perplex our own line of duty for ourselves by our own act? Yet it may be selfish not.

You will see I am rather making suggestions to you, and wishing your opinion, than saying things definitively.

The Archbishop, you observe, receives and answers the Cheltenham lay address, at such a moment! as if there was riot excitement enough, as if we had not persons enough against us. 'Grave considerations' are strong ones. And, besides, it marks a change of policy in him; for last March he stopped all addresses for the Tracts because there were sure else to be addresses against them. They talk (but this is a secret) of an address of Lawyers to him for the Tracts. {342}

They say that some of the Heads of Houses are getting much frightened at the whirlwind they have let loose, and that Hawkins and Gilbert are keeping them up to it. I cannot help thinking you are rather hard upon Gladstone, but I don't enter into what you mean enough to judge. Hope's letter is admirable. I like what you mean to do about your Bishop; but (though I know it is most difficult to express it) I think you must imply that your reason for not swerving from your pamphlet is that questions of heresy are coming on.

Things were beginning to press anxiously on Mr. Newman's sisters, as Mrs. J. Mozley's letters show. She watched events intelligently and with trustful sympathy. His keen family feeling, which especially needed this sympathy, was never blunted by the public claims upon him. Her letters were promptly answered, as the reader has seen, and always with the endeavour to set her mind at ease by giving the cheerful view—his hopes and general expectations—though not wholly concealing, as time went on, the conflict that under discouragement arose in his own.


January 3, 1842.
Perhaps you contrive not to see the papers, which I am sure is the wisest plan if it does not involve an inconvenient ignorance in important matters. I do not much care what such a paper as the 'Standard' says in its fury, but I am a good deal annoyed by the Archbishop's answer to the lay petition from Cheltenham. I am a very bad one to write to you, for, instead of viewing things in a cheerful light, I rather call upon you to dispel my alarms; but I am really anxious to know how far the hostile party are likely to proceed. I cannot conceive what should induce the Archbishop and the Bishop of London just now to pay such court to Prussia unless the Government is in some way concerned in it, which perhaps may be, seeing the King of Prussia is invited over to be a sponsor for the Prince of Wales. {343}


January 4, 1842.
I hardly like troubling you about Williams's election, but I think somebody in Oxford should know the state of the case.

A proposal to withdraw both candidates, and letters of the committee here, will come down to the President of Trinity by this post. You will see the kind of thing it is. A letter, however, which I received from Gladstone this morning, made me call upon him, and I found him obviously set on getting the matter finished quoquo modo, if not by the withdrawal of both, by the withdrawal of one, and urging the signatures of five out of seven Bishops (members of Convocation), the known sentiments of all, &c., as motives in conscience for the withdrawal of one, even if the other refused. He seems to have got them (especially the Bishop of Oxford) to sign, by the notion (on their parts) that their authority would put an end to the contest, Llandaff and Chichester (alone) refusing, because they wished a stigma thrown upon Williams. He insisted much on the Bishops' real wish that Williams should withdraw, and, as far as I understood, wished to establish that the presumption of this wish, arising from the mere fact of their signatures, was sufficient to bind us either to act on it or to take measures to draw out a more distinct statement, especially from the Bishop of Oxford.

I say all this, because else, it appears to me, you might fancy things going differently from what they really are. I could not get a clearer notion, because I did not wish to commit myself, though I suppose this is clear enough.


January 6, 1842.
I do not see that you can do better than send round your Protest to the Bishops and Members of Convocation as you propose ...

I do not agree with Gladstone, but I think he hopes that, if no collision takes place, Catholic opinions will gradually gain the ascendency. Again, his great object is the religionising of the State; you must recollect this. He thinks that even a division of opinion in the Church, though real, does not hinder that up to a certain point. {344}

January 12, 1842.
Williams just writes me word that the Bishop of Oxford has just put it upon him to retire. Surely he is in the hands of his College, and must not act without them. They are very jealous of such an assumption on the part of the Bishop.

Next, I earnestly entreat he may not be allowed to retire without some public evidence that it is not his act. I think he should bargain for the Bishop's letter being published. I see so much deep and unlimited evil arising out of it, that I quite conjure Williams not to have the responsibility of it.

If we have, as it were, minute guns, to tell us that our Angels are going from us, to a certainty we shall lose our members too.


January 19, 1842.
People in London have put on the Bishop of Oxford to oblige Williams to retire. Why do they not lay their commands on Garbett? Because he will not obey.

I fear it is a prelude to some act on the part of the Archbishop, who would have been embarrassed by a large minority, apparently committed the other way. This was Mr. Conybeare's advice, as it appeared in the 'Standard.' I certainly dread the Archbishop speaking. I can defend things as they are; but who can promise that he can defend a possible state of things? It is remarkable, indeed, that the Archbishop should go on. What have 1 done? Last March I submitted, and was told that therefore nothing would be done from authority. What has happened since? I have been silent; has anything happened but clamour? Is it not, then, the clamour which calls up the Archbishop?

You may think that I have no intention of leaving St. Mary's by the fact of my having taken a lease of the cottages at Littlemore, and having laid out a large sum of money on them; but it is quite certain that an Archbishop's letter, admitted by my own Bishop, might be of a nature to drive me away. Yet they know so well that, had they ordered the suppression of No. 90, I should have given up St. Mary's, that they cannot possibly be acting in the dark in anything they do now.

On the subject of Mr. Keble's Protest Mr. Newman writes: {345}


February 1, 1842.
I don't quite understand whether you think it of importance to set the matter before all the Bishops as a matter of judgment, or by way of acquainting them of what was going on. I think Badeley's objection is of weight; if we have (providentially) safeguards, ought we ungratefully to put them aside? Would it not be enough if you acquainted other Bishops of what you had done by sending them the Protest? and, if so, is there no way of showing that this was your meaning in sending it? This would save Badeley's point, which seems to me important without interfering with your method of proceeding ...

I wish the Bishop had a little heart, only a little, but I hear he believes the most atrocious things of us, which is his excuse. I think your letter to him a very successful one indeed.

You should look at the article on Church matters in the 'British Magazine,' in which a member of Canterbury convocation takes Badeley's line. Hope thinks the Bishops will do nothing; but they wish to do something, and where there is a will there is a way.


February 6, 1842.
I am going up to Littlemore [i.e. for good] and my books are all in motion—part gone; the rest in a day or two. It makes me very downcast: it is such a nuisance taking steps. But for years three lines of Horace have been in my ears:

Lusisti satis, edisti satis atque bibisti:
Tempus abire tibi est; ne potum largius quo
Rideat et pulset lasciva decentins tas
[Note 1].

Of Tract No. 90, 12,500 copies have been sold, and a third edition is printed. An American clergyman, who was here lately, told me he saw it in every house.


Littlemore: February 15, 1842.
I am in Oxford only on Saturday evening and Sunday morning. My books are all up, but not my bookcases. You may think it makes me somewhat downcast, but I don't know how I frightened you. For some years, as is natural, I have {346} felt that I am out of place at Oxford, as customs are. Every one almost is my junior. And then, added to this, is the hostility of the Heads, who are now taking measures to keep the men from St. Mary's. But I think I have made up my mind, unless something very much out of the way happens, to anticipate them by leaving off preaching at St. Mary's. I shall tell no one. My being up here is an excuse, and I can at any time begin again. But I think my preaching is a cause of irritation, and, for what I know, any moment they may do something against me at St. Mary's, and I would rather anticipate this ... A year and a half since (as Harriett knows) I wanted to retire from St. Mary's, keeping Littlemore. If I could do so at the cost of losing my Fellowship I think I would. Perhaps the Provost would listen to so great a bribe. There is a talk of —— taking Orders, coming into residence, becoming tutor, &c. Now, if so, he will be the new Provost on a vacancy. I have long given up all intention, if it were in my option, of being Provost myself, but what keeps me Fellow principally is the hope of voting for Marriott, but —— would cut him out.


February 19, 1842.
I am very well pleased with your determination not to send to all the Bishops, though I hope they will have means of knowing of your Protest and seeing it. Really I cannot repent of your letter in the spring. Your view of the Bishop's office is the only one I can take; I cannot take what is called a constitutional view, though I can understand the Bishops apportioning the rights of the one Episcopate among themselves, which they hold de solito, and giving part of their own powers, as also part—nay, the greater part—of their Catholic territory to other Bishops, and becoming Bishops by restraint, or limit their jurisdiction, in point of function as well as of extent. At the same time, if I think a Bishop is verging on heresy in any of his decisions—since I am absolved so far from obedience to him and may resist him—it seems nothing wrong, as St. Paul appealed to Csar, so to appeal, as in our case, to the Convocation, or to a lay judge in an ecclesiastical court [i.e. Sir Herbert Jenner].

Now, if I understand you, this is very much your position (though you add a second reason arising from your finding {347} that, according to the late Ecclesiastical Discipline Act, you. could be cited, did the Bishop think fit), and, if so, I do not think you have brought out simply and clearly enough, though it is a most delicate thing to do, that you oppose the Bishop, instead of submitting, on the ground of a Catholic doctrine being in jeopardy; and that not as an afterthought but on a principle, and indeed mentioned in your letter, but always assumed by everyone who holds primitive views. However, I may be fidgeting myself and be no fair judge.

The question being so very important, do not for an instant be sorry that you could not keep silent. I really think that it is a point as favourable for us as it is important in itself, and, with reference to your question in a former letter, cannot name one in which we should have safer ground in an ecclesiastical suit. On the other hand, it is the point on which people are most especially in error. The Bishop of London has been using to clergymen within the last week or two language—though he has in a manner retracted it—which, if repeated by other Bishops, would do as much as anything to unsettle men's minds regarding our Catholicity. Now consider how very important it will be if things are working for us towards a judicial issue of the question, and a silencing of such Antichristian speeches ...


Littlemore: February 21, 1842.
 … I have several things that puzzle me about St. Mary's pulpit. One special thing is this, which I have felt for years: is it right to be preaching to those who are not, in any sense, my charge, and whose legitimate guardians, the Heads of Houses, wish them not to be preached to? This seems to me a view, to which others might be added, cogent also. But, as you say, there are great difficulties on the other side. Of course, I shall not pledge myself to anything for the future.


February 27, 1842.
Will you let me turn your thoughts, if I have not done so already, to the duty and, in one sense, task of cultivating interior religion, and, in doing so, of leaving all matters of opinion for your Almighty Protector to determine for you in His good time? So far is certain, whatever misgivings you {348} may have had about the Catholicity of the English Church, that men may in it be far, far holier—may live far nearer to God than most of us do. Let us beg Him to enable us to aim at those inward perfections, which He certainly does vouchsafe in our Communion. We cannot be wrong here, we must be pleasing Him in this proceeding; we are in the safest way putting ourselves under the shadow of His wings. Depend upon it, at this day and in our present state, we are unequal to the great work of judging Churches, and had better leave it alone.


Littlemore: February 28, 1842.
Thank you for your most kind note, secundum morem, on occasion of this day week, which came to me here in due course. I am very sorry indeed to hear that you still speak of yourself as so delicate, but am glad that you speak of it, because care and watchfulness are everything ...

I am out of the way here of seeing the papers, and so am no judge, or I should say that the Tract [No. 90] ferment is lulling again. The Bishops seem to have decided on doing nothing; and Golightly has happily so little tact as to have disgusted his own friends by his ultra statements. The Winton and Keble case remains, and is an uncomfortable one; yet I think it must end in Keble's favour.

I have got my books nearly all in their places, and talk of insuring them. Not, one would trust, that there is much danger of fire, but I am somewhat given to fancy mischances, and when they are insured I shall be dwelling on the chance of their being destroyed, as Dr. Priestley's, by a mob shouting 'No Popery,' as in 1780 [i.e. in which cake the insurance would not hold]. The dwelling-rooms are still in a damp state, waiting for the March winds to blow through them.

Some time or other I must come up to London for a day or two, and then I shall joyfully accept your hospitality. I always reproach myself that I come to you as a matter of my own convenience, when I have business in London; and then, in one way or another, I tire myself through the day, and then in the evening inflict my dulness on you ...

I hope I shall not get to idolise my library; but I assure you, for its size, it is a very fine one. I regret I have no observatory here for Charlie. {349}

On the action of the Bishop of Winchester in refusing priest's orders to his curate, Mr. Young, Mr. Keble finally made his public Protest, which goes over the whole ground of the Bishop's objection to Mr. Young's answers. The Protest is an important document, and, as his letters show, was felt to so by Mr. Newman.


April 7, 1842.
Your packet last night was very welcome. I had been anxious about what you were doing. Every one I hear speak of your Protest is much struck with it, and it cannot but do good. It may prevent (so be it!) other acts such as have happened in the case of Young. You do not say whether you mean to prosecute matters further. Perhaps this Protest may morally and virtually settle the matter without your having further annoyance on the subject. Certainly it would be more pleasant not to have the responsibility of taking the initiative, though with the very strong case we have and the clear prospect of a decision in our favour.

In the Apologia' [Note 2] Dr. Newman looks back to the curiosity his move to Littlemore excited. '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 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; 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 the 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.' {350}


April 12, 1842.
 … So many of the charges against yourself 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], 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 purpose of study and devotion, and as much suspicion and jealousy are felt about the matter, I am anxious to afford you an opportunity of making me an explanation on the subject. I know you too well not to be aware that you are the last man living to attempt in my Diocese a revival of the Monastic Orders (in anything 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 uncontradicted, 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.


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 {351} Lordship and myself that the restlessness of the public mind should oblige you to require an explanation of me.

It is now a whole year since 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. 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 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 {352} 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 for 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 anything 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 in 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] which I have not seen, your Lordship will perceive from what I have said that no 'monastery is in process of erection,' there is no 'chapel,' no 'refectory,' hardly a dining-room or parlour. The 'cloisters' are my shed connecting the cottages. I do not understand what 'cells of dormitories' means. Of course I can repeat your Lordship's words, that 'I am not attempting a revival of the Monastic Orders in anything 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 {353} resolves and acts may certainly be made the objects of an unmannerly and unfeeling curiosity.

The following is a reply to some report (unknown) that Mr. Hope had sent him:

REV. J. H. NEWMAN TO J. R. HOPE, ESQ. [Note 4]

Dabam e Domo S. M. V. apud Littlemore: April 22, 1842.
My dear Hope,—Does not this portentous date promise to outweigh any negative I can give to your question in the mind of the inquirer? for any one who could ask such a question would think such a dating equivalent to the answer. However, if I must answer in form, I believe it to be one great absurdity and untruth from beginning to end, though it is hard I must answer for every hundred men in the whole kingdom. Negatives are dangerous; all I can say, however, is that I don't believe, or suspect, or fear any such occurrence, and look upon it as neither probable nor improbable but simply untrue.

We are all much quieter and more resigned than we were, and are remarkably desirous of building up a position, and proving that the English theory is tenable—or rather the English state of things. If the Bishops will leave us alone the fever will subside.


Littlemore: April 22, 1842.
I do not think I shall achieve my journey to London just now, and shall still have the pleasure of seeing you at home.

I am just come here [N.B.—The 19th of April was the first night that I slept in the new house], and must set things going; and that requires close residence for a while. At this very moment I am literally solus, without servant or anything else; but I suppose we shall accumulate in time. [The last day that I was at Littlemore I was also solus, Quinquagesima Sunday, February 22, 1846; without any inmate, without my books, amid the ruins of my bookcases. I left with my baggage at 4 P.M.] {354}


Littlemore: April 29, 1842.
I write for a copy of your Protest, if I can have one, but use your discretion. It is for a good man, as I believe him, though I do not know him—Mr. Scott, the republisher of 'Lawrence on Lay Baptism.' His curate was rejected by the Bishop of London on the ground of Young's rejection, though his Lordship repented next day. If you choose to send straight, direct 'Parsonage, Hoxton, London.' If not, at least I shall profit by a letter from you, which will be a treat.

I have long been very anxious about Pusey's loneliness [Note 5], and it has now come upon me more than ever. There is the coincidence of your Poetry Professorship expiring, Isaac Williams leaving, and my going to Littlemore. I had hoped that Lucy would have been by this time old enough to be a companion, but I think what he wants is, someone to consult and talk to, and he does not take to younger men; else there is Barker in the house, and at a word he could attract to him whom he would. There is Marriott. There is no good telling you all this, but it relieves me to do so.

My Bishop sent me a letter requiring an explanation what I was doing here. I wrote him a very full answer. He answered me most kindly, saying that the assertions about me were proved by my explanation to be 'cruel and unjust and calumnious,' and saying that he much approved of my residing here, where a resident incumbent was wanted.

The Margaret Professor (Dr. Faussett) has not been consulted in the late theological statute affair, and is in dudgeon.


May 24, 1842.
You will be glad to hear that the Bishop's Charge delivered yesterday was very favourable to us, or rather to our cause, for some of us suffered. He began by a description of the Movement, and of the bitterness with which it had been assailed; spoke against newspaper writers and meeting spouters, and praised us in contrast. This took up some time. Then he went to the Tracts; said part were very obscure, others wrong, and that the writers seemed not to {355} care about offending people. Then. No. 90 came in. Then there must be some delicate wording for which I shall look anxiously in the Charge when published; but I understood him to say that he thought No. 90's. interpretation not the obvious, that he wished to take the obvious, that he was against all interpretations which made the Articles anything or nothing, and yet he did not see why Calvinists and Puritans should be allowed to consider that the Articles admitted them, but men who agreed with Bull, Beveridge, Andrewes, &c., might not have the same liberty the other way.

Then he went to the disciples of the Movement, and here his regular censure began: 1, Palmer's Anathema (Magdalen Palmer); 2, Vestments; 3, Oakeley's translation of St. Buonaventura. 4, the speaking against the Reformers; 5, leaning to Rome, and an unreal unity. He concluded by saying that he expected hardly any clergymen to go to Rome but only very young persons; and that if people attempted to dam up the Movement, there would be a great inundation and a fearful schism. And he also said some strong things against the Church of Rome. I have left out some topics from forgetfulness.

As to the 'Dublin,' poor Dr. Wiseman is dying to get us, and this makes him write, in an anxious, forced, rhetorical way, being naturally not a little pompous in manner, though I believe it is principally manner.


Littlemore: May 24, 1842.
I have just heard that the Heads of Houses have passed a repeal of the Statutes against Hampden, and the question is to be brought into Convocation in ten days.

What I mean to do myself is this: at all events to go and vote myself against it, but not to write about to bring men up unless a committee is formed in Oxford against Hampden, and not to take part in the formation of, or in, a committee. [My feeling was that it did not become me, being myself under Hebdomadal censure, to take a forward part now against Hampden, though I might give my vote against him as a private M.A.] I cannot believe that a committee will not be formed. You had better get some one who is in Oxford to keep you au courant. Since the young M.A.'s of six years are, I trust, mainly with us, I trust the repeal will be rejected, {356} provided only an Oxford committee is formed. The 'Record' in its last number took Hampden's part expressly.


Littlemore: June 13, 1842.
I am full of work, and this last week have been well-nigh knocked up with fatigue.

The Bishop's Charge gives great satisfaction. It is plain which way he leans, and everything I hear goes the same way. He means to pay me a visit at my new abode, not as a Bishop, but as a friend, out of kindness. They want to work an altar-cloth for Cuddesdon after the pattern of yours.

There is no chance, I fear, of my getting to Derby this year. I am a family man, and cannot leave home.


June 3, 1842.
Will you tell Tom [then editor of the 'British Critic'] to take care so much is not said about me in future numbers. I don't like to say so to Ward or Oakeley—it would be ungracious; and they do it really because they think it comes in their way to do it; but it will seem as if I gave up the 'B.C.' that I might be puffed in it, which could not be decently done while I was editor.

The following letter was written by Mr. Newman in reply to a question put to him by the Venerable W. R. Lyall, Archdeacon of Maidstone and afterwards Dean of Canterbury. It was forwarded in 1886 to Cardinal Newman by a relative of the late Archdeacon Lyall and transmitted by him to the Editor.


Littlemore: July 16, 1842.
 … Your question is just the difficult one of English theology, and as time goes on it will be more and more felt. It is as deeply feeling it that some persons at present have been called ultras and thought to sympathise with Rome. While the Catholic Church is broken up into fragments it will {357} always be a most perplexing question, 'What and where is the Church?' And those who maintain the Article of the Creed which declares the fact that there is a Church, will be looked upon by hard-headed Dissenters and Liberals as unreal and cloudy in their views.

I consider that, according to the great Anglican theory (by which I mean the theory of Laud, Bull, Butler, &c., upon which alone the English Church can stand, as being neither Roman nor Puritan), the present state of the Church is like that of an empire breaking or broken up. At least I know of no better illustration. Where is the Turkish Empire at this day? In a measure it has been, and is no more. Various parts of it are wrested from it, others are in rebellion. There is no one authority which speaks; individuals in particular localities know not whom to obey or how they shall be best fulfilling the duty of loyalty to the descendants of Othman. Sometimes the truest allegiance is to oppose what seems to come with authority. In many cases there is only a choice of difficulties. For the most part, a Turk speaking of precepts, prerogatives, powers, speaks but of former times. He appeals to history; he means the earlier empire when he speaks of Ottoman principles and doctrines. In whatever degree this is true of the Turkish power, at least it is true of the Church. Our Lord founded a kingdom: it spread over the earth and then broke up. Our difficulties in faith and obedience are just those which a subject in a decaying empire has in matters of allegiance. We sometimes do not know what is of authority and what is not; who has credentials and who has not; when local authorities are exceeding their power and when they are not; how far old precedents must be modified in existing circumstances how far not. This view might be illustrated in detail to any extent from the controversies and difficulties of the day. Lay baptism, the poor law, the Irish Roman Catholic Acts, the Jerusalem Bishopric, are all, in very different ways, difficulties which rise out of a sick or rather dying kingdom. Under these circumstances when we are asked, 'Where is the Church?' I can but answer, 'Where it was'—the Church only is while it is one, for it is individually as He who animates and informs it. It is under an eclipse or in deliquio now, or, as Bellarmine says of the tenth century, 'Christ is asleep in the ship,' and a curious collateral witness to this is found in the difficulty which the Roman Catholics themselves find in determining where the seat of infallibility {358} is. The Church has authority only while all the members conspire together. In such strange circumstances as those in which we find ourselves we can but do what we think will best please the Lord and Master of the Church—what is most pious; we rule ourselves by what the Church did or said before this visitation fell upon her; we obey those that are set over us, first, because they are set over us; next, because at least the Apostolical Succession is preserved (which is like de facto rulers being of the blood royal); further, because they are the nearest representatives we can find of the whole Church, and are to a very great extent her instruments. We consider the local Church the type and deputy of the whole.

Should you think it of use to ask me any further questions by way of clearing my view I will gladly attempt it.


Littlemore: July 31, 1842.
1 have just finished my essay preliminary to Fleury, which I thought never would come to an end. I have long wished to write to you, but my hand is fatigued.

As to new verses, when my plantations are grown up into trees, and I have built a nest in the topmost boughs, then will you get me to sing a fresh tune.


Littlemore: August 28, 1842.
The only thing I have to tell you is that Mr. Ogilby, the Ecclesiastical History Professor in the Theological Seminary of New York, called on me the other day, and told me that your 'Hildebrand' was one of the books most in request among the divinity students in his department.

I fear these Americans have done a most serious thing, about which a row must be made. I have seen nothing in print, but am told that their presiding Bishop, Griswold, has formally admitted a Nestorian, as a Nestorian, to Communion, expressing at the same time the concurrence of his people, or a good part of them. Acts like this will drive men out of their Church ...

Another agitation for Hampden is proceeding. His friends are getting 600 names for some purpose by a certain time. More I do not knows. {359}


Littlemore: September 12, 1842.
I rejoiced to hear from you and of your doings. I am so idle about letter-writing, and my hand is so tired, that I had preferred to inquire about you from others to trying to elicit a line from you by a direct address.

As to your paper, which I return, I had heard of the intention (as I suppose you had) several months back, and certainly my own impression was, supposing the object of the Memorial to be confined to Arnold's merits in his school, that if called on, I might join in it, and therefore much more you. It strikes me that such as we may do things now which we could not do ten years ago, because now we are so well known that no one can mistake our meanings. I recollect Froude and myself keeping off in 1832 from the meeting in Oxford about the Walter Scott Testimonial, because it was taken up by the Liberals; but then our opinions ere unknown, and to have joined it would seem adopting Liberal notions.

Moreover, I think there would be nothing inconsistent or hypocritical, or exemplifying the 'Virtutem incolumen,' &c. in my taking part in this Arnold Memorial, because I am conscious of having always done justice to his great merits at Rugby [Note 6]—nay, having always defended him in many other respects, as considering him widely different from —— and —— and many other persons with whom he is associated; as being more real and earnest than his friends; as having done a work when they are merely talkers. I think I never spoke harshly of him except on the occasion [at Rome, vide 'Apol.' pp. 33, 34] which gave me the opportunity [on his {360} taxing me with it sharply] of doing so, and which I really cannot reproach myself with. I put all this as my own case, thinking it applies a fortiori to you. I believe the only controversial piece we have put out against him is Froude's fragment.

However, Pusey does not like it, or rather is against it. He does not like Whately's name as one of the committee, though I don't think this goes to the root of his difficulty. What is uncomfortable, he adds that if I subscribe he certainly will. I wish he would not do this. It is exceedingly kind, but I doubt the wisdom of it; certainly it embarrasses me a good deal. Did you subscribe I should like to do so, but it is very hard that Pusey will not have a view of his own.

It would be painful to me not to subscribe, but you shall give me your advice, please, as you ask mine. [I was advised not to offer a subscription. I suppose this meant that it would not be received.]

Curious, I have just been reading Lockhart's 'Life of Scott.' Curious, too, I feel so different about it from you. It has brought more tears into my eyes than any book I ever read, but withal has left an impression on me like a bad dream. I cannot get the bitter taste out of my mouth. I mean it is so like 'Vanity of Vanities,' except that I really do trust be has done a work, and may be an instrument in the hands of Providence for the revival of Catholicity.


Littlemore: September 17, 1842.
 … The publishers in London are gaping after the Church line, each trying to outrun the other in securing writers ... It shows most surprisingly the spread of Catholic opinions ... but meanwhile I and others, who see how things are going, do not feel the less uneasiness, spread as they may. They have no solid bottom ... But, I suppose, if one feels certain things to be right and true, it is want of faith not to preach them merely because one cannot systematise.

If I come to you I think you will think me vastly aged in this year and a half. I begin to think myself an old man.

On the doings of certain Religious Professors the question of ridicule as a legitimate engine comes forward. {361}


Oriel: October 21, 1842.
As to ridicule, to state the doings of —— is in fact to ridicule them. The ridiculous is a natural principle; it is not made. Of course a writer may make a thing ridiculous, but then it is by exaggeration, &c., but I cannot help thinking that our friends are [Qy. one friend is] intrinsically ridiculous. But if so, is not stating the fact a sort of providential means of disabusing people?—the thing, when stated, thus carrying its refutation with itself. I know that it has been said that it distresses certain minds, but it undeceives and sets right many more. Froude says that Apostolicals may be hated, but cannot be ridiculed [Note 7]. I should like to analyse the reasons of the individuals who are offended by it—that it is so irresistible may be a great reason. It is perfect poison to affectation and mock solemnity. Is it not often a most merciful weapon, because, if you were serious, you must be so much more severe? How merciful it is to assail a man for 'preaching prayers,' considering what might be said of it.

The Bishop of Llandaff [Copleston] has been charging most violently against us. His manner was violent, I am told. He hinted almost at a Royal Commission, because the Bishops could do nothing, and views were spreading so fast. What! is free trade no longer a good?

The Warden of Wadham has been preaching on the duty of attending and submitting to the Church—i.e. the Protestants. Haddan says he borrowed some pages from Bramhall. Is he reduced to this?


Littlemore: November 26, 1842.
Everything is quiet in Oxford except the interiors of Heads of Houses, and such like, who, I am told, fume and fret the quieter things are, because there is a steady move onward. {362}

Mr. Newman only allowed his nearest friends to see his Bishop's letter. His sister Jemima thanks him for his confidence, and at the same time betrays some natural misgivings.

December 1, 1842.
Thank you very much for your kindness in allowing me to see the enclosed. They are very interesting papers. I should hope the Bishop quite understands you; he seems to do so. I am glad to hear Oxford is quiet externally. I should think the Bishop's Charges must have done a great deal towards composing people's minds: they have only made some like Mr. Close more furious [Note 8] ... I suppose you are able to make use of your violin again now you are at Littlemore. I have been practising hard lately and wish you could come, that I might turn my practice to good account.

I shall long very much to see your University sermons.


Littlemore: December 20, 1842.
As to reminding my people about Confession, it is the most dreary and dismal thought that I have about my parish, that I dare do so little, or rather nothing. I have long thought it would hinder me from ever taking another cure. Confession is the life of the Parochial charge; without it all is hollow, and yet I do not see my way to say that I should not do more harm than good by more than the most distant mention of it. Reading the first Exhortation at the Communion is the only thing I do of a direct kind. I hope that that is of a nature to startle those who listen, though not enough perhaps to persuade them.

Mr. Sibthorpe, a well-known popular preacher, who had lately surprised the world, by becoming a convert to Rome, and after a year or two had renounced her Communion, was now in the winter of 1842 in Oxford, at Magdalen, of which College he had been a Fellow. {363}


Littlemore: December 29, 1842.
 ... Sibthorpe has been here, dressed very impressively and eating fish; else just the same. He dined in Magdalen College Hall with no embarrassment, I am told, on either side; he shutting his eyes and turning up the balls [N.B: This was habitual with him as a Protestant], and talking, and the scouts in waiting as grave and unconcerned as usual.

I am publishing my University sermons which will be thought sad, dull affairs; but, having got through a subject, I wish to get rid of it.


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1. Hor. Ep. ii. 2. 214.
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2. Apologia pro Vita sua, p. 171.
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3. Apologia, p. 173.
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4. Memoirs of Hope-Scott, vol. ii, p. 7.
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5. Mrs. Pusey died May 26, 1839.
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6. In this relation the following letter from Dean Lake may be extracted from the Guardian:

January 25, 1888.
There is indeed a great deal more to be said of Arnold's remarkable mind—for many of his faults can be traced to his being a solitary thinker—than can be expressed in a single letter. But it is a constant pleasure to me to remember that no man would have been a more earnest upholder of the supernatural truth of Christianity than Arnold if he was still with us, and that while on many points he entirely agreed with the noblest of his opponents in his own time, he is also in a very real sense a support to the higher worship of the present day. And, lastly, I have good reason for believing that no person has so fully recognised his high character both moral and intellectual as the very greatest of his still surviving antagonists.

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7. Of course, Froude's view, so far as there is truth in it, only holds good while Apostolical principles were unpopular and interfered with worldly prospects: there was not the ridiculousness of sham in his day. Where principles are adopted because they are the fashion, there will certainly be some ridiculous holders of them.
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8. Cheltenham was a sort of headquarters against the Movement, and hard words were current. A letter has come into the Editor's hands of this date which contains this sentence: 'Close disclaims all personality, but calls Newman a liar and a pickpocket.'
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Newman Reader — Works of John Henry Newman
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