I.N '\k

m.'-'.

¦¦\\f ,¦

eiu:::'

WILLIAM GEOEGE WAED

THE OXEOED MOVEMENT

/ILLIAM GEORGE V^ARD.

ZtTnTIS 20.

J^.r-arrJ |.-^^.^

,7 Jjy GJ. ;f,,dm? from. ,j, rnm.uyJjirf dy MUi En,j7_.y l'nm.7^..

Z.,r,j7j,n M.irr,',7J.,7, * C J'S-ffi

WILLIAM GEOEGE WAED

ANT)

THE OXFOED MOYEMENT

BY
WILFRID WARD

MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
1889

MEMORIAL LINES TO WILLIAM GEORGE WARD
BT
THE POET LAUREATE
Faeewell, whose living like I shall not find
— Whose faith and work were bells of full accord, —
My friend, thou most unworldly of mankind,
Most generous of all Ultramontanes, Ward !
How subtle at tierce and quart of mind with mind !
How loyal in the following of thy Lord !

PEEFACE
The writer in the Tvmes ^ of the Jubilee Retrospect of the events
of the present reign, in touching on the Ecclesiastical aspect of
the Victorian era, says : " The Catholic — or as it is named from
the accident of its method the Tractarian — Movement in the
Church of England is the first to arrest the attention of the
observer;" and after referring to the nature of its influence on
the religion of England, he speaks as follows of the climax of
the original Oxford Movement: Its originators "found themselves
stranded in an eddy of the stream they had set in motion, and
while the Catholic revival vivified and transformed the English
Church, itself being modified and transformed in the process,
its distinguished pioneers, with Newman and Ward at their
head, joined the Church of Eome."
The mention of these two names reminds us of a fact,
not without importance in its bearing on tlie significance of
the Movement, that the Oxford party, at the time of its greatest
prominence, consisted in reality of two schools, whose views
and starting point were by no means identical ; and that
representative members of each eventually found the outcome
of their principles in the Church of Rome.
The old Tractarian party, which carried on its work in
comparative peace up to 1839, may be said to have repre
sented the common measure of the \aews of its three leaders
Newman, Pusey, and Keble. It was a vigorous effort at the
restoration of the Catholic elements in Anglicanism as they had
> See Times, 21st June 1887.

PREFACE

existed in the seventeenth century. Various causes about this
time — among them the publication of the Bemmns of Hurrell
Eroude — gave a new colour to the Movement. Eroude's vivid
picture of Church Authority and Catholic Sanctity took pos
session of many earnest and thoughtful minds, which had been
quite unsensible to the attractions of Anglican tradition. A
new school was formed, which from 1839 to 1845 had a large —
perhaps ultimately the chief — share in guiding the fortunes of
the Movement. Its motive power was primarily ethical, and
in some sense philosophical, as the motive power of the older
school had been, primarily historical.
Of the early Tractarians Cardinal Newman has given a full
account in the Apologia. His own starting point was identical
with theirs, and he traces the development of their views, in
his own case, to genuinely Catholic conclusions. To the later
school he refers comparatively briefly, and speaks of its members
as being " of a cast of mind in no small degree uncongenial to
his own." " A new school of thought was rising," he writes,
"as is usual in doctrinal inquiries, and was sweeping the
original party of the Movement aside and was taking its place."
Of the manner and degree in which "he surrendered him
self to the influence " of this younger party, the Cardinal gives
indeed a fuU account ; but neither in the Apologia nor elsfewhere,
so far as I know, does there exist any express description of the
origin and aims of a school of thought which had a marked
effect on the progress of the Movement, and on its relations
with more recent religious controversy. The supplying of this
want is one of the objects with which the present volume has
been written. Of my father's relations with the party of the
Movement various estimates are given in the following pages
by contemporaries well qualified to speak. But whether we
accept the Dean of Westminster's view that " he succeeded Dr.
Newman as their acknowledged leader," ^ or qualify this state-
^ See Recollections of A. P. Stanley, by G. GranvUle Bradley, Dean of
Westminster, p. 65.

PREFACE ix
ment as some others have done, by general consent he seems to
have been the typical representative of the phase to which I
have referred.
There has been, however, an additional reason for the
following pages besides the one I have mentioned. Inde
pendently of his position with respect to the Movement, there
is a very general testimony on the part of his contemporaries
as to the influence of Mr. -Ward's personality in the Oxford of
half a century ago. This influence extended to theological
opponents as well as to friends. The chief representative of
those opinions which afterwards nearly succeeded in expelling
all remnants of Tractarianism from the University, — Professor
Jowett, — in the " Eeminiscences " which are published in this
volume, bears cordial witness to his " inteUectual obligations "
to Mr. Ward, and to an influence on his contemporaries which
few have surpassed.^
It has been urged on me by many of my father's friends
that some attempt should be made to record for another
generation the personal qualities to which this influence was
due. The delineation, then, of a personality which was
sympathetic to men of such opposite schools as the Dean of St.
Paul's and Professor Jowett, to men differing as widely in their
position and surroundings as Lord Tennyson and the Dean of
Norwich, or as Professor Bonamy Price and Lord Coleridge, is
the second object of my book. In the case of my father, as in
that of Dr. Johnson, his conversation had in it much of which
there is no trace in his writing, — which was, indeed, the
antithesis to his writing. His style was in early days extremely
dull and shapeless — as he frequently remarked himself. It had
in it none of that pointed character, or of the amusing and
dramatic elements, which his contemporaries note tn liim as a
talker. The biographical portion of my work, consequently,
to be quite satisfactory, needed the contemporary notes of a
Boswell ; and the absence of any such record of his conversa-
' See AppendLx D.

X PREFACE
tion has been a drawback. Of few persons was the saying less
true, " Le style c'est I'homme." The deficiency, however, has
been in some measure atoned for by the great kindness of his
friends and contemporaries in placing at my disposal their
recollections of his sayings and ways at Oxford, and of his
influence there. My special thanks are due in this respect to
Professor Jowett, the Deans of Durham and St. Paul's, Lord
Selborne, the Dean of Norwich, the late Dean of Eochester,
Lord Blachford, Father Whitty, Archdeacon Browne, the late
Mr. Bonamy Price, Mr. Lonsdale, Mr. Wegg-Prosser, Mr. G-. E.
Moncrieff, and the Bishop of London. But above all I owe
grateful acknowledgments to the Poet-Laureate for placing on
record a memorial of his friendship for my father in the
beautiful verses which are prefixed to this volume, every line of
which suggests some feature which appeals to those who knew
him and imderstood him, as at once characteristic and distinctive.
My work has been unfortunately deprived of the advantage
of the most valuable series of my father's letters which it was
to have embodied — those preserved by the late Mr. A. L.
Phillipps (afterwards Mr. de Lisle) of Garendon, written from
Oxford between the years 1841 and 1845. These letters have
been within the last few years accidentally mislaid. My best
thanks are due, however, to Mrs. de Lisle for those which she
has sent to me, and to Mrs. A. H. Clough, Canon Liddon (Dr.
Pusey's biographer), the Dean of St. Paul's, the late Dean of
Eochester, Dr. Bloxam, Mr. Benham (the biographer of Arch
bishop Tait), for portions of his writing which they have
preserved, and which are to be found in their place in the
following pages. Cardinal Newman has likewise allowed me
to print one of his letters to my father, and I owe him gratitude
for the patience and kindness with which on more than one
occasion he allowed me to question him with respect to his own
recollections of the Oxford Movement. I must take this
opportunity of thanking him for his great kindness in searching
among his papers for my father's old letters. WTien I come

PREFACE

to deal with his Catholic Ufe the coUection which the Cardinal
has placed at my disposal wiU be very valuable to me.
To the Dean of St. Paul's and to the late Lord Iddesleigh I
am under obUgations for the numerous pamphlets in connection
with my father's Oxford controversies which they have lent me.
To the former, indeed, the Dean of St. Paul's, the foUowing
work owes a great deaL Much of my information as to the
events and spirit of that phase of the Movement with which
I am chiefly concerned is derived from private notes of his to
which he has given me access ; several alterations have been
made in my text at his suggestion, with a view to giving an
account which should appeal as substantiaUy true to aU those
who took part in the Movement, whether in the event thev
joined the Catholic Church with Cardinal Newman and my
father, or remained with Dr. Pusey. At the same time it is
of course impossible but that the significance and colour of
facts should be somewhat different to those who were led by
them in such different directions.
I must add to my Ust of obligations a valuable letter in
MS. written by the late Mr. J. S. MUI to Auguste Comte on
the subject of my father's book, Th,c Ideal of a Christian
CImrch, which I owe tb the kindness of Miss Helen Taylor.
Though Mr. Ward's relations with MiU belong chiefly to a later
period, the letter has great value as showing how early MUl's
interest in him began ; and from the fact that the book which
called it forth contained the germs of those arguments on the
, intuitional philosophy to which MUI in later years attached so
much importance. " In answering them," he wrote, " I beUeve
that I am answering the best that is likely to be said by any
future champion."
I wUl only add that although I very frequently conversed
with my father on the subject of his Oxford days, and those
conversations have been of great use in makmg me understand
his spirit and aims in the Movement, I have not trusted to my
memory without corroboration in his writing for anything save

xii PREFACE
characteristic anecdotes ; and many of these were taken down
by me in his lifetime. AU that portion of the work which
contains the history either of his own mind or of the Movement
is taken from his copious writings of that time, — sermons,
essays, and letters, — or from the recollections of contemporaries.
I have cited his own words as far as possible, though minor
detaUs and connecting links have been summarised by myself.
This has been necessary aUke for the sake of brevity, and from
the fact that such matters are often stated by himself
incidentaUy, and in a context which is not to the purpose of my
book. The Eeminiscences so hberally supplied by my father's
contemporaries, both oraUy and by letter, have occasionally
involved the repetition by different persons of the same detaUs.
In such cases it has been impossible to print aU that has been
written in the text ; but I have instead quoted so much in the
text as was suited to the course of my narrative ; and where the
omissions have been considerable I have inserted the documents
without abridgment in the Appendix.
Since the body of this book was in type I have received
from the Dean of Westminster some interesting selections from
the correspondence of the late Dean Stanley, whidh have
reference to my father's early relations with Newman and with
Stanley himself. These, by the kind permission of the present
Master of the Temple and Sir George Grove, I have placed in
an Appendix (see Appendix I).
Feeshwater, Isle of Wight,
Afril 1889.

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

BOYHOOD or WILLIAM OBORGB WARD
Parentage ......
Early love of the theatre — Great mathematical talent .
Dislike of general society
dtoes to school at Winchester
Lord Selborne's Recollections .
Confidence in his own memory — in his mathematical powers
unfailing accuracy in both departments
Professions of incompetence in verse-making
Specimens of his Latin and English verses — Makes them purposely
grotesque — versiis scribere cogor
Early religious earnestness, and horror at the immorality of
Winchester School ....
Love of abstract thought — Lack of observation of natural objects
Extract from schoolboy Essay ....
Lord Selborne on the system of " Prefects '' at Winchester
Ward's conscientiousness and unpopularity as Senior Prefect
Rebellion of Juniors .....
Early melancholy and sensitiveness

PAOE 1
345 5
78

101111 15
16
1718

CHAPTER II
LIFE AT OXFORD

Ward at Christ Church — Undergraduate friends . . 19
The Oxford Union — "Ward Tory-chief" — Record of his part in
the debates ...... 20

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

Tfie Dean of St. Paul's on the speeches of Ward, Lowe, and
Cardwell ....... 22
Archdeacon Browne's Recollections of Ward and of the "Unio-
machia" ....... 23
His father's loss of fortune — Scholarship at Lincoln . . 25
Examination for his degree — Frank confessions of ignorance — Dr.
Jenkyns on Ward's " candid ingenuity " . . .26
Elected FeUow of BaUiol . . . . .28
RecoUections of personal characteristics by contemporaries —
Joyousness — Abruptness — First meeting with A. P. Stanley
in Faber's roonis — Love of exaggeration — Of making the
" Moderates " stare — The Late Dean of Rochester's BecoUec
tions — Ward's Johnsonian Rejoinders — Love of Paradox in
Expression — Reality of Feeling and Thotight — Manliness and
Kindliness — Zeal for Truth — BriUiancy — Lord Coleridge's
Impressions . . . . . .29
RecoUections of Mr. J. Lonsdale . . . .32
Impressions of Mr. G. R. Moncreifif — Ward's Socratic Dialogues —
Characteristic humour in teaching mathematics . . 33
Mr. Thomas Mozley's Recollections . . . .34
Ward's candid comments on himself — "My intellect almost
infinite " — " Deplorable moral deficiencies " — Dislike of
sermons — Enjoyment of stories against himself . . 35
Intensity of enjoyment and ennui — "Out of my line" —
Clumsiness and incapacity for " dealing with matter " . 36
Melancholy — Escape from himself in music and the drama-
Constant ill-health referred to in a Letter — Dramatic Sketches
to Ms Friends — Coffin and Oakeley — "Thomas Aquinas
dancing a baUet" — Lenten performances next door to Dr.
Pusey — Present Bishop of London's first interview with
Ward — Olympic Revels and Olympic Devils . . 37
Dean of St. Paul's RecoUections of Ward — Quixotic conscientious
ness — Dignity from " deep seriousness " — The other aspect
of his character — " Unembarrassed as a schoolboy let
loose " — Observer Johnson's dinners . . .42
Bishop of London's Recollections of a party at BaUiol — ^Ward's
scruples about going — His enjoyment of the party — " Could
have proposed to any one of them on the spot " . .44
CHAPTER III
THREE MOVEMENTS OP ENGLISH THOUGHT
Dean Stanley on the intellectual activity and moral earnestness
of the first half of the century . . . .45

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

Ward affected by three schools of thought in tum . . 46
Radical school of the two Mills 'and Bentham — Its origin, aims,
and history — Grote and the two Austins — London and
WestTnmster Reviews . . . . .47
Opposition of the school to the Established Church — Reform BiU
of '32 — General fear of DisestabUshment . . .48
Two Movements to save the Establishment — Schools of Arnold .
and of Newman ... ... 49
Amold's characteristics — Points in common between him and
early Oriel school of Milman — His scheme for Church
reform — Resemblance between his proposal and Dr.
Martineau's . . . . . .50
Arnold's inteUectual system a compromise — Its want of con
sistency — Its logical results exhibited by his intellectual
descendants, Stanley, Jowett, and Matthew Arnold . 51
Tractarian Movement — Contrast between Tractarian and Amoldian
view of the English Church ' . . . .52
Original Movement at flrst mainly practical — Opposition to
scheme for suppression of Irish Sees — Keble on the " National
Apostasy" — Palmer, Hook, and Perceval share in this
Movement ...... 53
InteUectual element developed by Hurrell Froude and Newman
— Tracts for the Times — Palmer's opposition to the Tracts
.^-Contrast between methods of Newman ahd Palmer —
Newman's uncertainty as to the final outcome of his own
principles . . . . . • .55
Contrast between inteUectual principles of Liberals and Tractarians
— Tractarianism designed to check Popery — Amold's desire
to check irreligious RadicaUsm — Devotion of both parties
to Anglicanism — Arnold prophesies that Newmanism wiU
end in Popery — Newman that LiberaUsm wUl wreck Christian
Faith — Fulfilment of both prophecies . . .56
Declaration of war between the parties — The Hampden Case in
1836 ...¦•¦¦ 58

CHAPTER IV
EARLY INTELLEOTDAL AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY
Influence of MiU and Bentham— Ward's admiration of their
system, completeness, sincerity, clearness, love of reform . 60
Early sense of inconsistency of Anglicanism — The moderate
Churchman steers between "the ScyUa and Charybdis of
Aye and No"  64

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

PAOE

WHately's comparative consistency — Finding AngUcan theology
inconsistent he gets rid of it — Solitudinem fadt, pacem
appellat — Ward attracted by his fairness to all parties . 65
Higher influence of Arnold — Personal and spiritual rather than
inteUectual — His Christian enthusiasm and destruction of
aU unreaUty in reUgion — The Rugby boys. Lake, Clough,
Stanley ....... 67
Arnold's system a protest against unreality of Protestantism and
against antiquarianism of Newmanites — Fictitious sacred
ness (in his view) of sacerdotal and sacramental system —
Ward's concurrence in this view — Ward's influence as re
presenting the Rugby school in Oxford — Mozley's testimony . 68
Ward's references to Arnold a few years later in the British
Critic — Admires his opposition to wordliness, the reality of
his treatment of Scripture, his opposition to the passivity of
Lutheranism . . . . . .69
Ward finds the inteUectual principles of Arnold and Whately
sceptical — His trust in Arnold's ethical teaching remains
— He recognises it to be based on the moral nature, not
the inteUectual — ^Its true basis was the truth of its ethical.
precepts and the superior sanctity and spiritual perceptions
of Arnold himself, as detected by conscience . . 72
Newman attracts him on these principles as exhibiting a still
higher ethical system and spiritual authority — " True guid
ance in return for loving obedience, the prime need of man " 73
Connection between dogma and morality — Theism essential to the
rudiments of morality — Plenitude of doctrine to highest
sanctity ....... 74
Extract from Ward's writings on the sceptical tenderfcy of Arnold's
principle of private judgment — Extracts on instinctive re
cognition of the sacredness of higher teaching — On obedience
as the road to religious knowledge . . .75

CHAPTER V
CATHOLIC INFLUENCES
Early religious impressions from Catholic services — Tendency to
Rome existed before he joined Newman's party — Influence
of Milner — Ward's assertion that he could not have joined
Newman as long as he approved the Reformation . . 78
A visit to Arnold at Rugby — Ward reads novels all day — Arnold
tired with school work finds evening discussions exhausting-
Goes to bed on Ward's departure — Ward's dissatisfaction
with Arnold's answers to his difficulties — Ward's early

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

suspicion of Newman's sermons — Refuses to hear them — A
plot to bring him to St. Mary's — Hears him preach — Whole
feeling towards him changed — Professor Bonamy Price's
recoUections . . . . . .79
Newman's lectures in Adam de Brome's chapel — Ward attends
them — Appearance of Froude's Remains — Ward tends to
Tractarianism — Lord Blachford's recoUections — The Dean of
Norwich's description of Ward and Stanley at Newman's
lectures — The late Dean of Rochester's (Scott) impressions of
the change to Newmanism — Ward "jumped for joy" at
Froude's writings — Resemblance, inteUectually, between
Ward and Froude — " At length the Church of England fell.
WiU she ever rise again 1 " . . . .81
Froude's thoroughness contrasted with Amold's incompleteness —
Intellectually — Ethically — Arnold feared the full Gospel ideal
of sanctity ...... 85
Extracts from Ward's writings criticising Arnold on the point.s in
question — Also on interpretation of Scripture . 86
Early form of Ward's theory of Church Authority . . 91
Love of Catholic ethics — Dislike of the Anglican Communion
service — A nightmare about Thomism — " A cold, cramping,
stifling uniformity " . . . . .93
Ward pays Bonamy Price a vi.sit at Rugby (September 1838)
before joining the Newmanites — Mr. Price's recollections —
"A fish and a dog" ..... 96

CHAPTER VI
EARLY FRIENDSHIPS
Ward ordained deacon as an Amoldian, priest as a Newmanite —
Signs the Articles in a different sense on each occasion . 99
Dean Lake's recollections — No tutor in Oxford had so much
intellectual influence as Ward — " Last of the great conversa
tionalists" . ¦ ¦ • • .100
Open discussions on religious first principles — Startles old-fashioned
Cliurchmen — Mr. Wynell Mayow's recoUections — " What is
the difference between faith and prejudice 1" . . 101
Moral influence over undergraduates — Friendship with theological
opponents — Stanley, Jowett, Tait .... 102
Tait's recollections of Stanley and Ward, published in Good
IVords ...-••¦ 1^'^

xviii ANALYTICAL CONTKNlia

Ward's friendship for Arthur Hugh Clough — Upsets Clough by
* sceptical arguments — Clough's references to Ward in his
correspondence . . . • ¦ .105
Ward's recoUections of Clough . . . . ¦ 107
Clough's increasing scepticism — He and Ward drift apart —
Clough's Qmos CMrsum 'uejiiws . . ¦ .110
Professor Jowett's recollections of Ward — Geniality — "Prodigious"
knowledge of theatrical persons and performances — Things
serious and profane lay near together in his mind, but
never confused — Love of startling those who misunderstood
this — Preaches a sermon of Amold's at Littlemore with
Newmanite alterations — His appearance — Sermons, Operas,
gtc. — « Of a most noble presence " — Like Socrates in dialectics,
like Falstaff in making fun . . . .112
Jowett's recoUections of BaUiol FeUows — Carr, Oakeley, Tait,
Chapman, Payne, Scott, Owen, Lonsdale — RecoUections of
Jenkyns, Master of BaUiol . . . .114
Ward's friendship with Tait and Oakeley — Theological differences
— Undiminished personal regard — Dean Lake's recoUections
of the matter — Ward's testimonial to Tait, as candidate for
Rugby Head-mastership . . . ¦ .117
Tait, Oakeley, and Ward in the Common Room — Characteristic
anecdotes — Lonsdale's recollections — Friendship lasted
through Ufe — Ward's reference to Oakeley after his death
— Tait's allusion to Ward and Oakeley, " two more single-
hearted and devoted men, I beUeve, never lived " . . 121
Friendship with Goulburn, Dean of Norwich — Goulburn's recol
lections — Ward's vivacity of mind and love of amusement —
Early love of variety in the Breviary — His gaiety kept in
check by hard work and deep religiousness — Resemblance to
Gladstone — " Why should a man love his relations " — " My
nature does not dictate it " — Goulburn shocked at his pro
fanity — " David, I daresay, was a great fool " — Repentance
for having used such language after he joined Newman's
party — Goulburn's first meeting with Ward — Ward's humour
as mathematical tutor — His reading of prayers " such as one
hears only once in a lifetime " . . . .124
Ward's friendship for the poor — Elements in his character re
vealed in close friendships with relations or friends which
were unknown to the world — Appreciation of a woman's
tact and sympathy — Dislike of the pedantry of intellectual-
ism — RecoUections of his friend Mrs. Richard Ward and of
his eldest daughter . . . . .132

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

CHAPTER VII
A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT
1838-41 PAGE
Formation of a new school with directly Roman tendencies —
Oakeley, Faber, Dalgairns, J. A. Froude, Seager, J. B.
Morris — Description of their characteristics by the Dean of
St. Paul's . . . . . .136
Difference between their starting point and that of the original
leaders — Early history of the Tracts — Proposed return to the
Anglicanism of Laud — via med/ia — Tracts at first fly-leaves,
afterwards treatises — Library of the Fathers — Catholicism
of the via med/ia disputed — This led to the Roman
question . . . . . . .138
Ward's school attracted to Rome and the Church Universal — Kept
back, from Rome by the Tracts — Love of Church authority
and Catholic sanctity the marks of the new school . . 141
State of things which made the existence of a Roman party in
; the establishment possible — Two events mainly instrumental
(1) the language used in the Preface to Froude's Remains by
Newman and Keble about the Reformers ; (2) Newman's
secret doubt, raised by the Monophysite controversy, as to
the validity of the Anglican position — His first disclosure of
the doubt described by Henry Wilberforce . .143
Rome allowed by Newman to have preserved what England had
lost — Ward's study and dissemination of Roman books — Love
of ¦ Jesuit ascetic and dogmatic writers — Of the scholastic
method — Liturgy at Margaret Street — His views of cere
monial . . . • • ¦ .145
Suspicion of the Heads aroused — They fail to understand the
depth of the Roman tendency — Their narrowness and ignor
ance — Dr. Faussett gives the signal for war — Attacks
Newman and Keble . . • - .147
Jowett's recoUections of Ward's influence— "An age of young
men " — Dean Church's reminiscences — " Bold and startling
candour" . • • • • .149
Ward hopes for ultimate reunion— Sees that this must involve
acceptance of the decrees of Trent — Circumstances leading to
Tract 90 — Tait's statement that "Ward worried Newman
into writing it " . • • ¦ • .150
.Esthetic CathoUcism— Bloxam the "father of RituaUsm"—
Ward and Pugin — "What are muUions ?" — Pugin's disgust
at Ward's disregard for Gothic architecture— " Who could
h

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

have thought that the glorious man whom I knew at Oxford
could have faUen so miserably low ? " — Rood screens
and " mde " letters . . . . .153

CHAPTER VIII
TRACT 90
1841
Ward's prophecy that Tract 90 would make a sensation —
Newman incredulous — J. Mozley's account of first effects . 156
Protest of the four tutors, Tait, Churton, Wilson, and Griffiths —
Resolution of the Hebdomadal Board — Newman acknow
ledges the authorship — His letter to Dr. Jelf in defence of
the Tract — Message from the Bishop of Oxford — Cessation
of the Tracts ..... .157
Newman accused of want of straightforwardness — Phrases in
troduced to pacify moderate Tractarians misunderstood —
Wilson's letter — His references to Newman's " shifty " and
"ambiguous" expressions. . . . .160
Ward's pamphlets in defence of Tract 90 — His explanation of
Newman's meaning — Resents the charge brought against '
Newman of disingenuousness — His letter to Scott — He
advocates fuUer and more open discussion . . .161
Mr. Lowe on " The Articles as construed by themselves " — His
controversy with Ward — " A hateful verbal sophistry and
mental reservation " — Ward's strong language about the Re
formers — Their " rebellion " and " perjury " . . 169
Pusey's letter on Tract 90 — Contrast between Ward and Newman's
language — Ward invents. the phrase "non-natural" sense —
Recollections of Dean Church — Oakeley's pamphlet. . iVl
Horror of Dr. Jenkyns at Ward's expressions — Ward's resignation
of his lectureships — The Master disarmed — Anxiety of
Ward's friends — Where was it to end ? — Ward refuses to
give Pusey a pledge that he will not join the Roman
Church ....... 174
Ward's correspondence with Pusey (July 1841) — Claims Newman's
sanction for all his views — Offers to give up anything
Newman disapproves — Newman's doubts as to Anglican
sacraments — Ward says he might have joined the Roman
Church if Newman had not given up the Reformation —
Could not have joined the Tractarians otherwise — He
believes in practical corruptions of Romanism — Does not.

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

think Rome at present pure enough to justify a change of
Communion — Corruption of Anglicanism more radical —
Roman Church, has preserved the ideal of saintliness —
Anglicans have sneered at it as fanatical — ^Ward declares his
reluctance in publishing his pamphlets — Grand bond
among aU their confidence in Newman . . 176

CHAPTER IX
EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT 90
1841-1842.
Tract 90 marked an epoch in the Movement — Sense of persecution
— Extreme party look openly to Rome for sympathy — Ward
and Dalgairns write to the Univers — Appeal to foreign
Churches for sympathy — Projected reunion — Mr. Hamilton
Gray's reply ...... 185
Bloxam makes acquaintance with Mr. Lisle Phillipps — Introduces
I him to Ward — Visits to Oscott and Mount St. Bernard's —
Ideas of reunion — Father Gentili and the Rosminians — Ward
visits Mr. Phillipps — Delight in the Catholic liturgy . 190
Sibthorp's conversion — Letters from Ward to Mr. Phillipps —
Advocates their working each in his own Church to purify
it — Deprecates sectarianism in English Catholics, and their
exclusive devotion to prosperity of their own body — Their fail
ure to appreciate self-denial as such — Sibthorp's return to
the Anglican Church — Ward's disgust — Points the moral oi
the unwisdom of hasty conversion . . . .193
Newman's gradual retirement from active leadership — The three
blows which "broke him" — Retires to Littlemore in 1842 . 202
Complex relations between Newman and Ward — Ward presses
Newman for fuller statements — Difference of temperament
and habits — Newman's suggestive and informal method —
Ward's logical method — Ward's habits of discussion with
men of all schools — His wish that they should understand
each other — Newman's difficult position as leader of a
party which was not homogeneous — Danger of breaking
up the party if he identified himself with Ward's statements
— His uncertainty whether his Roman conclusions were a
delusion — His love for Anglicanism and for Pusey — Ward's
indifference to everything except the solution of the problem
before hira — Sympathies and intellectual conclusions alike
Roman — FaUed to see that he annoyed Newman by pressing
him forward ...... 203

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

Pfisey's friends accuse Ward of inconsiderateness — The Dean
of St. Paul's on the effects on Newman of Ward's pressure
— FeeUng on the part of Liberals and friends of Ward
as to Newman's over great reserve and subjectivity — Dean
Stanley's recollections . . . . • 207
Newman's words to Pusey as to his relations with Ward — His
expressed admiration of Ward's British Critic articles — ¦
Father Lochart's recollections of Newman's view on Anglican
orders — Attitude towards Pusey and Ward . . . 209

CHAPTER X
THE HOMEWARD MOVEMENT
1842-1844.
New character in proceedings of the Movement — Newman's restrain
ing hand removed — Ward's theory of the Anglican Church
as a place of preparation for Roman Catholicism — " The
whole cycle of Roman doctrine " tenable by Anglicans— ^
Newman's rejection of the theory in its extreme form — His
letters to Hope Scott . . . . .211
Ward's influence during 1843-44 as described by Dean Bradley and
Dean Stanley — His metliods — Refuses to adopt wholesale the •
opinions of the party — Preserves the dialectical method first ,
learned from Whately — Dean Church's description of
Ward's discussions — Ward preserved the practical way of
looking at religion which he first learned from Arnold —
" All to the glory of God " — His sense of the ludicrous
element in the ignoring of God's paramount claims — A
" deferential" attitude towards the Creator . . .213
Ceases to view the English Church as Catholic — "Not a Catholic,
a Puseyite " — His attitude disapproved by older Trafetarians
— The enfant terrible of the party — Exaggerates his own
ignorance of history — An exciting debate in which each side
knew but one fact ...... 216
The British Critic Ward and Oakeley's medium — Ward owns to his
style being " har.sh, dry, and repulsive " — Mozley's surprise
at one of Ward's -articles being reckoned the " gem of the
number " — Difficulties between Ward and his editor — New
man appealed to — Unconventional candour in Ward's
writing — iTxplains that his references are all wrong as his
copy of the book under review is "incorrectly bound up" . 218
Two elements in Ward's essays, (1) abstract theory as to method
of discerning religious truth ; (2) his programme for the

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

Movement — His programme involves reintroduction of
Catholic ascetics — Hopes for ultimate submission to Rome —
His tone implies submission of Anglicans to a foreign
power rather than .restoratix)n to primitive Anglicanism —
Early Tracts appeal to EngUsh amour propre — Ward con
stantly wounds it — " Our prostrate Church " . . 221
Theory of advance in religious knowledge — A spirit of beUef and
purity of intention — A truer creed answers the needs of a
purified conscience — The spirit of a learner not of a judge —
Free and critical inquiry violates the canons of induction —
Phenomena of moral truth cannot be even apprehended in
such a spirit — Subjective nature of all moral experience
— AUeged grounds of belief often not real grounds — Alleged
grounds of soldiers' or executioners' professions may be made
to defend the horrors of the French Revolution — Un
satisfactory nature of alleged proofs for Theism — Summary
condemnation of Mr. Goode .... 226
Ward refuses to suppress admiration of Rome for the sake of
greater High Church unity — Unity of a national Church
not a legitimate object of ultimate endeavour — Open defence
of Roman doctrines and devotions — Annoyance of High
Church party — Termination of the British Critic . . 233
Ward's sermons at Margaret Street and at Oxford — He and
Oakeley refrain from preaching Roman doctrine — Ward
preaches on the evangelical counsel of poverty — Bishop
Blomfield takes him to task — The appeal to Scripture —
Oakeley's article on auricular confession — Consequent
acquaintance of Ward and Oakeley witli Father Whitty —
Visit to old Hall — '•' Newman my pope " — Ward admits the
unsatisfactoriness of his position — " I am writing a fat book
which will bring things to an issue " . . .238
Animus aroused by Tract 90 — Opposition to Isaac Williams's can
didature for the Poetry professorship — His defeat — Pusey's
sermon on " the Holy Eucharist a comfort to the Penitent "
— Pusey's suspension — Ward haUs with satisfaction the tumult
and disorder in the Church — Protestantism a demon which
will rend the body from which it is preparing to depart . 240
Bewilderment of moderate Churchmen at the Roman tendency
— " Plausible reasoning of Jesuitism " — A coUege servant in
doubt as to AngUcan orders .... 242
Palmer of Worcester goes to Newman — Remonstrates on the British
Critic — Newman refuses to interfere — Palmer writes his
"Narrative" of the history of the Movement — Describes
Ward's school with horror — Quotes a number of passages
from the writings of Ward and Oakeley . . . 243

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

Chorus in approval of Palmer's " Narrative " — Ward views it as a
challenge — Writes the Ideal of a Christian Church — T.
Mozley's account of the excitement it produced — " All
England was moved "..... 246

CHAPTER XI
THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH
Ideal originaUy projected as a pamphlet — Its growth inter scrib-
endum — Irregular mode of composition — Fundamental con
ception that individual moral disoipUne is the only basis for
Christian faith and Ufe — The one object of an ideal Church
to save souls ...... 248
Two conditions of sanctification and salvation : (1) faith, (2) obedi
ence to God's wiU — Intimate connection between the two —
Two chief Protestant principles lead to Agnosticism : (1)
private judgment which results in uncertainty, (2) the emo
tional reUgion of evangeUcals which identifies faith with
subjective feeling — CathoUc ideal of conscience submitting to
an external law the antidote to both . . .250
Ward asked the question now familiar, then not so : — Can man
have knowledge of transcendental truth 1 — Identifies Religious
and Moral truth — Maintains that at first sight from imper
fections and contradictions in existing religious arguments
and creeds such knowledge seems uncertain — Deeper view
discloses reality of fundamental Moral truth — Existing
religions to be purified, not destroyed — A divine truth con
tained in them but partially obscured . . .251
This deeper view begins by noting the contrast between the reality
revealed in conscience with mere intellect and with mere
feeling — Sense of duty distinct from both — Gives a gUmpse
of something objective, evidently real, but only very partially
apprehended — Reverent attention to this Objective Somewhat
gives light to guide our own footsteps — This attitude is the
attitude of Faith — Opposed to critical attitude of a judge —
Opposed also to attention to subjective feelings — Leads to
submitting and conforming the wUl to something external —
Lutheran " assurance," as unconnected with effort to conform
to external law gives no test whereby to distinguish between
fancy and religious perception .... 253
Catholic Church commissioned to dispense to us so much of this
Moral truth as we axe fitted for — Undertakes also the indi
vidual training which is indispensable for the apprehension
of that truth — The same training helps us to realise and act
on what is revealed — Ward's own description of the functions

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

PAGE

of conscience — Of the Catholic Church as the home of such
Moral truth as we may know . . . .256
Notes of the Church correspond to notes of Moral truth — Unity,
Sanctity, Catholicity, and ApostoUcity (made known by
special providential revelation in time) — Sanctity the great
note — Church to do corporately and systematicaUy what
other Christian teachers wish to do each in his way — Ward's
general sketch of the " Ideal " Church . . . 258
The Church the home of the poor — Ideal Church must preserve
Christian equaUty — Must rebuke manifest oppression on
part of civil rulers — Must aid wise rulers, and set the ex
ample of loyalty . . . . . .264
Ward's " Ideal " partly coloured by his own special temperament
and needs — His own need for exact external discipline and
guidance peculiarly urgent — His own perception of logical
consequences peculiarly keen — Much of his intensity of expres
sion refers to principles and not to results visible at present
— He recognises this himself — Many readers failed to under
stand it . . . . . . 266
Ward's fuU plea of guilty to Palmer's charges — Insists that Palmer
attacked him most fairly from his own point of view — Defence
of his own tone — Of his patriotism — Spurious patriotism of
many — " Base pride and vulgar nationaUty " — Indiflerent to
charge of intellectual over-confidence — Conscious of moral
shortcomings . . . . . .268
Ward pleads practically for restoration of Catholic ideal and
aims — Mainly the ascetic ideal — Let aU join in tliis and in
reforming corruptions — Leave the results to God — InteUectual
confusion of Anglicanism from its inclusion of Protestant and
Catholic formularies — Reaction of this in its moral tone —
Existing elements of Protestantism render Catholic asceticism
difficult of introduction — He maintains that ultimate result
of Catholic asceticism would be submission to Rome . 272
Ward's open and strong statements on Anglican inconsistency —
Wholesale denunciation of powerlessness of the EstabUsh-
ment against existing evils — Of self-satisfaction of English
Churchmen — The confessional a wholesome discipline for
the rich and powerful — Want of moral activity in the
EstabUshment . . • - ¦ .276
Moral inactivity of English Church due greatly to prevalence of
the spirit impUed in Luther's doctrine of justification — ^Ward's
denunciations of it as an abstract doctrine — Statement that
it only partiaUy affects even evangeUcals — Contrast between
Scriptural ideal of prayer and struggle and Lutheran " ideal "

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

^ — Trusts he has denounced that ideal in " terms not whoUy
inadequate to its prodigious demerits " . . .282
Catholic asceticism the antithesis to Lutheranism— Rome has pre
served this untouched — To reform a Roman Catholic country
you act by means of the system you find, in England you
act by attacking it — Plea for combination among all High
Churchmen against Lutheran and in favour of Catholic ideal
— Leave results to Providence — States his own conviction as
to those results — Vision in the future — Anglicans "suing
humbly at the feet of Rome for pardon and restoration" . 286
Final exhortation to all men of good wiU to combine, irrespective
of speculative opinions, in restoring the principles of Faith
and Obedience . . . . . .288
Note. — On Rule of Life in a French Ecclesiastical Seminary . 289

CHAPTER XII
CONSEQUENCES OP THE IDEAL
1844
Ideal appears at a critical time — Opposition of Tractarians to
appointment of B. P. Symons as Vice-ChanceUor — Their over
whelming defeat — Horror of average Churchmen at the
Ideal — Interest taken in it by intellectual men of various
schools. Mill, Comte, DoUinger, Sir W. Hamilton, Keble —
Newman disappointed in it — Mr. Gresley expresses the
opinion of moderate Churchmen on it . . .293
Gladstone's article on the Ideal in the Quarterly — Its scope —
FaUs to understand Ward's contention that religious truth
cannot be proved by the secular intellect • . . . 297
Correspondence of MiU and Comte on the Ideal — Comte's plea
sure at Ward's recognition that the dilemma lay between
Catholicism and infidelity ..... 302
Mischief brewing among the Heads — Proposed proceedings against
Ward — Their accidental disclosure to Bloxam of Magdalene
— Ward summoned before the Vice-ChanceUor — Publication
of proposed proceedings against him — ^Acknowledges author
ship of the -work, and accepts responsibility of its sentiments
— Text of Ward's letters to the Vice-ChanceUor and of the
proposed measures . . . . • 303
Excitement at proposed measures — The proposed test endangers
existence of the High Church party — Dean Stanley's recoUec
tions — Protest of the Liberals . . . .310

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

Tait's letter to the Vice-ChanceUor — Protests against the test —
Approves Ward's punishment — Vindicates Ward's good faith 312
Moberly's letter to Dr. Jenkyns of BaUiol — Opposes the whole
of the proceedings — His testimony to Ward's high character 315
Keble's defence of Ward — Admiration of parts of the IcfeaJ . 316
Frederick Maurice's two letters against Waid's condemnation —
Development versus accumulation . . . .318
Gladstone's letters to S. Wilberforce — Opposes the proposed
measures— -Insists on intrinsic difficulties of the test . 323
Scene between Ward and Dr. Jenkyns on SS. Simon and Jude's
day, 1844 — " Certain men crept in unawares " . . 325

CHAPTER XIII
CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD
1846
Partial reaction in Ward's favour — Ward's published address to
Convocation — Declares that all parties subscribe in a " non-
natural sense " — Low Churchmen must subscribe the Prayer-
book " non-naturally " — Withdrawal of the test — Prebendary
Garbett maintains this withdrawal to be shirking Ward's
challenge as to the principle of subscription — Refuses to vote
against Ward ...... 326
Requisition to Vice-ChanceUor requesting condemnation of Tract
90 — Vice-ChanceUor adds this to the other proposed measures
— Stanley's fly-leaf on coincidences between the cases of
Ward and Hampden ..... 333
Stanley's description of the great day of condemnation-^Scene in
tiie Sheldonian Theatre — Distinguished assembly — Accounts
of other eye-witnesses — Ward allowed to speak in EngUsh —
Opening of his speech — Its un conciliatory tone — Ideal con
demned by large majority — Degradation passed by a smaller
majority — Condemnation of Tract 90 proposed — GuUlemard
and Church, the proctors, interpose their veto . . 336
Legal proceedings projected — Ward's first meeting with Arch
deacon Manning — Ward's indifference to his condemnation —
His comic rhymes on the proceedings — Moral effect in Ward's
favour described by a contemporary . . . 343

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

Newman writes to Ward on his condemnation — ^Ward's letter to
- the Vice-ChanceUor, chaUenging the legaUty of the proceed
ings ....... 346

CHAPTER XIV
COLLAPSE OP THE MOVEMENT
1845-1846
Ward's engagement to Miss Wingfield — Doubts as to his vocation
— Newman favours his marriage — Annoyance of the High
Church party — Anti-Roman decisions of Ecclesiastical Courts
— The stone altar case — Oakeley sued by the Bishop of
London in the Court of Arches — He declines to defend —
Roman doctrines condemned seriatim — Ward's letter to Pusey
in Oakeley's defence ..... 348
Fetters binding Ward to English Church gradually unlocked — He
begins an article on Blanco White — Mrs. Ward copies it for
press — Determines to join the Church — Ward feels that his
own time has at last come — Before taking the final step he
circulates a letter among his friends giving his grounds for
change, and inviting criticism . . . . 356
Text of Ward's letter — His remaining an Anglican based on two
reasoiiv, — Both have ceased to exist — (1) Anglican Authorities
have denied the tenableness of Roman doctrine in the Church
of England — (2) Newman has ceased to feel that a stricter
Ufe increases his trust in Anglican ordinances — Importance
of a living, energising, dogmatic system . . .360
Mr. and Mrs. Ward received by Father BrownbiU in Bolton
Street — Pasquinades from Oxford — " 0 Wardie, I believed
thee true " ...... 365
Father Whitty visits them at Rose Hill, Oxford — Simplicity of
life — " Like the early Christians " — A haunch of venison^ —
Confirmation by Wiseman at Oscott — Pugin buUds a smaU
house at Old Hall for the Wards .... 366
Oakeley's proof of the divinity of the Church, " a Church which
could tame and keep in order Ward and me" — Pusey's
lamentations — " All the converts have deteriorated except
Newman and Ward " — With Ward " further deterioration
impossible " — Renewal of friendship with old Oxford friends —
A passage at arms with Goulburn — Happiest days of Ward's
Ufe when teaching at Old Hall — Letter to Cardinal Wise
man ....... 367

ANALYTICAL CONTENTS

CHAPTER XV
THE OXFORD SCHOOL AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT

PAGE

Explanation of scope of the chapter . . . .370
Bearing of the Movement on the controversy between the AngUcan
and Catholic Churches . . . . .376
Bearing of the philosophy of Newman and Ward, and the general
principles maintained by the Oxford school, on some recent
currents of thought . . . . .380
Appendix A. — Sermon by Ward, 1837 .... 407
Appendix B. — Sermon by Ward, 1839 . . . 417
Appendix C. — Recollections of Ward, by the Rev. W. C. Lake,
Dean of Durham ...;.. 423
Appendix D. — Recollections of Ward and of the Oxford Move
ment, by Professor Jowett, Master of BaUiol, . 428
Appendix E. — Typical specimens of the interpretations advocated
in Tract 90 . . . . . .440
Appendix F. — Selections from the Apologia , . . 442
i Appendix G. — Extracts from the Ideal of a Christian Chirch,
iUustrating lines of thought already referred to . . 445
Appendix H. — Text of the test proposed in 1844 by the Heads
of Houses '. . . . . .459
Appendix I. — Selections from A. P. Stanley's letters referring to
Ward's early relations with Newman and with himself . 461

CHAPTEE I
BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEOEGE WAED
William Geoege Waed was born in London on 21st March
1812. His father, Mr. Wilham Ward, was the second son of
Mr. George Ward of Northwood Park, Isle of Wight, and was
weU known in his day as Tory member for the city of London
(which he represented from 1826 to 1835), and as a director
of the Bank of England. He was a considerable authority on
matters of finance, and in 1830, at the special request of the
Duke of Wellington, he assumed the duties of chairman of the
Parliamentary Committee appointed to investigate the affairs of
the East India Company, preparatory to the opening of the
China trade. Mr. William Ward was, perhaps, still better
known, in a very different sphere, as a famous cricketer, the
proprietor of Lord's cricket ground, and the most successful
batsman of his day. He scored 278 in 1820 for the M.C.C.
against Norfolk, the largest score ever made at Lord's in a
first-class match.
The family of Ward settled in the Isle of Wight rather
more than a century ago, and the squire of Northwood has
been for four generations the owner of very considerable landed
property in the island and in Hampshire. Their immediate
ancestors had resided in Gibraltar — the grandfather of the
first Mr. Ward of Northwood having taken part in the memor
able siege of that fortress in 1704, and subsequently died in
the garrison. The first member of the family who settled in
England was Mr. John Ward, who had held for many years the
appointments of chief clerk of the Ordnance and Paymaster
to the forces vmder General CornwaUis, Governor of Gibraltar,
having early in Mfe acquired some fortune as a Spamsh
B

2 BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD chap.
merchant.'' He had married in 1749 a Spanish lady named
Raphael, of a family originally from Genoa, and some have
traced a connection between the element of Spanish blood
thus introduced into the family, and the intensity and en
thusiasm of temperament which characterised the subject of
this memoir. Several of Mr. John Ward's descendants were
well known in the political and diplomatic world. His
youngest son Eobert Plumer Ward, of Gilston Park in
Hertfordshire, the author of Tremaine, and of the History
of the Law of Nations, was for some twenty years a member
of successive Tory ministries. He was a friend and protegi
of the younger Pitt, and began his official career in 1805
as Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, the Chief- Secretary
at that time being his brother-in-law Lord Mulgrave. He
afterwards filled successively the posts of Lord of the
Admiralty, Clerk of the Ordnance, and Auditor of the Civil
List. Another member of the Ward family whose pubhc
career may be referred to as distinguished was Sir Henry
Ward, G.C.M.G., Mr. Plumer Ward's only son. Sir Henry
Ward was first brought into prominence iu 1823 as Minister
Plenipotentiary for acknowledging the Mexican EepubUc.
Eor a short time in 1846 he joined Lord John Eussell's
Ministry as Secretary to the Admiralty, but in 1849 he
was appointed Lord High Commissioner of the Ionian Isles.
In 1856 he was made Governor of Ceylon, and he died in
1860 as Governor of Madras.^
The mother of William George Ward was Miss Emily
Combe, daughter of Mr. Harvey Combe of Cobham Park, M.P.
for the city of London at the beginning of the present century,
and head of the well-known firm of brewers, Combe & Dela-
field. Her brother was the sportsman of the same name, who
1 The large landed property belonging to the family at the end of the last
century and early in the present was acquired partly by the eldest son of Mr.
John Ward — Mr. George Ward of Northwood — a very eminent merchant, who pur
chased the Isle of Wight and Hampshire estates referred to in the text ; and
partly by the marriage of Mr. John Ward's youngest son Robert to the heiress
of the Hertfordshire estates of the family of Plumer. This lady— Mrs. Plumer-
Lewin— was one of the Hamilton family, granddaughter of James, seventh Earl of
Abercorn, who had married a daughter of Colonel John Plumer, M.P. for Herts,
'^ A good many of the particulars here referred to wUl be found more fully in
the "Memoir of E. Plumer Ward," by his nephew, the Hon. E. Phipps. London, I
1850. ,,;J

I BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD 3
was for a lengthened term a popular master of hounds in
Surrey. Of the early home life of William George Ward a few
characteristic details are preserved. His tastes were, even as
a child, very marked, and his hkes and dislikes very intense.
He had a passion for music and the drama, and for mathe
matics. He detested (as, he would express it) general society,
— such as he at that time came in contact with, and
which had io. it no distinctively intellectual or interesting
element. Those who remember him as a boy describe the
delight with which he looked forward to the play, his complete
absorption in it, the accuracy with which he remembered and
detailed every scene and much of the dialogue after it was
over. When he was very young, the reaction at the faU of
the curtain and on his return to the dulness of everyday
life, made him sometimes cry from depression of spirits. He
could not endure the absence of active occupation for his
mind, even for a few minutes ; and between the acts of the
play he would read, the book chosen being generally some
work on mathematics. This habit he kept up to the end
of his life. His early interest in the theatre was not confined
to the play alone, but extended to all connected with it.
He knew the names not only of the principal actors but of
the supernumeraries, and would note with interest how Mr.
Smith or Mr. Jones, who played first footman or policeman,
had gone from the Haymarket to Covent Garden. During
his spare time he worked for hours together at mathematics,
being especially intere^d in original speculation in them.
When he was nine years old his mother, who was herself a
great mathematician, on looking at one of his note -books,
covered with figures, declared that he had found, out the
principle of Logarithms, and had appUed it for himself with
considerable skill.
On the other hand, those who remember seeing him only
in general society describe him as a clumsy-looking boy, often
sitting apart from the rest of the company, biting his nails,
seldom opening his mouth, and looking generally "bored to
death." Once when staying with his relations at Cobham
Park he was taken to a children's dance in the neighbourhood,
much against his will, and on being asked by his hostess how

4 BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD chap.
he was enjoying himself, rephed with the utmost bluntness,
•*' I expected to find it a bore, but now that I am here I find it
even worse than I had thought." Before the evening was over
his ennui had reached an intensity past endurance, and with
out waiting for the end of the party he made his way home
alone through the muddy roads and pelting rain, and arrived
wet through, his evening shoes covered with dirt, and generally
in a very sorry phght, but intensely relieved to have got away
at any cost. His uncle had pity on him, and never asked him
to go to another party.
At the age of eight he was sent to a private school at Eagle
House, Brookgreen, Hammersmith. He does not appear to
have distinguished himself much ; and the only episode in his
life there which may be worth relating was an act of rebeUion
against one of the masters, in which we may see traces of the
public spirit and hatred of tyranny which characterised him
later on.
There was a practice in vogue at the school of compelling
the boys during certain stated hours to talk nothing but
French. The rule was not enforced with such strictness as
would have made it really useful. A piece of paper caUed
" the mark " was given to the first boy who said a word of
English ; and he was at Uberty to pass it on to any one whom
he, in turn, heard speaking in any language other than French.
Whoever was found in possession of the mark at the end of
the appointed time, had a heavy imposition. Ward thought it
very unfair that this one unlucky individual, often not the
worst offender, should stand scapegoat for the sins of his.
brethren, and considered the whole rule absurd and tyrannical.
Directly therefore the French -talking time commenced, he
began to talk English in a loud voice. He was pre
sented with the " mark," which he put into his pocket. '
" Now," he said, " you may all talk English as much as you
please, for I do not intend to pass the mark on." The French
master, finding Ward day after day for two weeks in possession^
of the mark, tried to persuade the boys not to pass it on, but
to teU him directly Ward spoke Enghsh. The boys, however, |
would not do this, and the master's next endeavour was to
buUy Ward into giving way, pulhng his hau? and twisting his
wrist in true French fashion. "Ward remained firm, however,

1 BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD 5
and the head-master, fearing, if the war were continued, to lose
his younger brothers, Henry and Matthew, who were going to
school the foUowing term, caused the rule to be changed ; and
Ward remained master of the field.
In 1823 he left Eagle House, and went to Winchester as
a commoner. Dr. Gable was at that time headmaster. He
numbered among his contemporaries there many men after
wards distinguished in public life, among whom may be men
tioned Eobert Lowe (afterwards Lord Sherbrooke), EoundeU
Palmer (afterwards Lord Selborne), Edward Cardwell (Lord
CardweU), Anthony TroUope, Sir Eardley WUmot, WiUiam
Monsell (now Lord Emly).
His schooldays were not happy ; they were, indeed, as he
often said, the least happy period of his hfe. He had little
aptitude for games, and his interest in discussion and specula
tion; (which existed even in his boyhood) found no scope
among his companions. He used to say of himself, " I never
was a boy," and Lord Selborne, in the sketch he has kindly
written for me of those days, says, " he was not hke other boys,
even in the commonest things." His Latin scholarship was
exceUent, and the standard at Winchester was then very high.
In 1829 he gained the gold medal for Latin prose composi
tion, against such competitors as EoundeU Palmer, Eobert
Lowe, and Eardley WUmot. Lord Selborne has written the
following recollections of his schoolboy days, showing that in
many points of character "the boy was father to the man."
" I have seldom known any man," he writes, " whose character,
temper, simplicity and kindliness of disposition, directness and
keenness of inteUect . . . suffered so little change during so
long a time." The reminiscences are, however, equaUy remark
able for the absence of any indication of those social and
conversational gifts of which his Oxford friends speak so
enthusiastically at a later period.
" Our famihes had been on friendly terms for two generations.
His father's elder brother, Mr. George Henry Ward, occupied
Shawford House at Twyford, near Winchester, in 1825 ; and when
ray father took me, in July of that year, to be an unsuccessful
candidate at the annual election for Winchester College, we were his
guests. I went into ' Commoners ' in the following autumn, being
then nearly thirteen. William George Ward was dso a commoner.

6 BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD chap.
.' . . I was placed in the same form with him, the ' Senior part of
the Fifth,' just above fagging ; and his uncle commended me to his
good ofBces. I used often to go to Shawford House with him on
holidays, and sometimes also for an early (and to us luxurious)
breakfast from ' Morning Hills ' — a peculiar Winchester institution
of those days, now discontinued. The boys were marched twice a
week (weather permitting) to the top of St. Catherine's hill (a mile
from the college) for two hours before their first ordinary meal, not
without benefit to those who had the privilege of furnishing them
with less regular supplies. Arrived there those who (like Ward and
myself) had ' leave of hills ' from some prefect, wandered over the
neighbouring downs and valleys, sometimes as far as Twyford. The
rest, poor fellows, had to amuse themselves as well as they could
within the entrenchments on the top of the hill. In this and in
other ways I came to see a good deal of Ward, though he was not
on ordinary occasions one of my most frequent companions. Our
tastes were difierent. He was very fond of music (for which I had
no ear), singing continually, after his fashion, snatches of airs from
popular operas, catches, or glees : he had a tum for mathematics
and I for natural history, to each of which interests the other of us
was by nature or bent of mind inaccessible. He despised, or
affected to despise, poetry and romance, which were to me most
attractive. Besides which, I was younger and his inferior in bodily
growth and strength.
" He did what he could to help me in my noviciate, which, how
ever, was not much. Physically he was strong ; but in point of
physical courage he was passive, and content if he could follow his
own ways quietly, without caring much for those of others. In
appearance ponderous, in manners brusque and eccentric, — he was
no cultivator of the graces, and was not at his ease in strange society.
These singularities made him often the subject of practical jokes,
as when one of the boys sent him one day an invitation to dine
with the Bishop of Hereford (Huntingford), then Warden of the
College. It never occurred to him to suspect a trick. He was
made miserable for the whole day by the anticipated terrors of
Episcopacy and young ladies ; asked everybody he met what he
ought to do under all the various emergencies he conjured up . . .
and at last was inexpressibly relieved when, on presenting himself
at the appointed time and place, a servant told him that the Bishop
had dined some hours before, and that he was not expected. For
the greater part of his time at school he did not care for the games,
though his weight and strength eventually made him useful at foot-
balh But with all his oddities, his imperturbable good humour and
the sterling honesty of his character made him generally liked ; to
which, perhaps, his father's reputation as a popular Wykehamist,
Tory member for the city of London, and also a famous cricketer.

I BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD 7
and the hospitable entertainer of the Winchester eleven when they
went up annually for the public school matches at Lords', contri
buted. There were seemingly contradictory elements in his
character which made him always good company. He had a
pleasure in paradox and a keen sense of the ludicrous, and far
from being offended or mortified at the amusement others found
in his peculiarities, he was quite capable of entering into a joke at
his own expense. . . . There' was a custom called ' pealing ' practised
by the junior boys on their seniors at a certain time of the year,
on their going into the large schoolroom for lessons before the
arrival of their masters. The juniors assembled together at one
end of the room, shouted out upon the appearance of each object of
their attentions some characteristic salutation. Ward, when a
prefect, was saluted with the 'peal,' 'Three three-halfpenny
oranges, a bun and a halfpenny fig,' in memory of his habitually
exact distribution of sixpence in eatables sold at the gate before
going into morning school."
Another who remembered those days told me that, whereas
most of the prefects were rather shy of exposing themselves
to this ordeal, and would come in as late as possible, and if
they could unobserved, in order to avoid these remarks on
their personal characteristics, Ward, who was quite as much
amused at his own peculiarities as any one else, entered the
room purposely early, and roared with laughter at each fresh
sally at his expense.
His memory was very remarkable, and he would learn,
for his own amusement, hundreds of Unes over and above the
ordinary amount which was demanded by the masters. Many
of the poems so learnt he could repeat tiU the end of his hfe.
He is described as unfailingly accurate both in memory and in
his mathematical work, and as perfectly sure of himself in
these departments. " I don't know why it is," he said on one
occasion to his mathematical tutor, who found fault with his
answer to some problem, " but when I see that my answer to
a sum is right, I don't care if all the world says it's wrong. I
hnow it's right." And right it proved to be in the event. On
the other hand, where he did not entirely grasp a subject he
would have nothing to do with it, and declared himself whoUy
incompetent to give any opinion on it or to deal with it in any
way. Original verse-making was required at Winchester, and
Ward said that he had no poetry in him, and quite refused to
work at it seriously. He was compelled to write the appointed

8 ' BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD chap.
task, but he purposely made his own contributions as grotesque
as possible, and read them aloud, when finished, to his school
fellows, amid much laughter.
"He was ostentatiously indifferent to verse-making," writes
Lord Selborne, "an exercise much valued in those days at all
public schools, and not least at Winchester, for the cultivation of
the imagination and taste, and of the faculties of memory, observa
tion, and criticism. To some of us (myself among the number) it
operated as a powerful stimulus to exertion, and supplied motives
for interest, and for voluntary work beyond the prescribed lessons,
which might otherwise have been wanting. But it was not so with
Ward. Twenty lines were the minimum required in our part of
the school for an ordinary ' verse-task ; ' which was, or was expected
to be, an original composition in Latin verse upon a given subject.
Ward never exceeded that minimum. His Latin and his prosody
were probably as correct as anybody else's ; but he seemed to study
the quaintest and most prosaic treatment of his subject, whatever it
might be ; and no termination could be too bald and abrupt when
the necessary number of lines had been accomplished. Nor did he
depart from these principles in the larger and more elaborate com
positions which he was obliged to write when in the Sixth Form,
on the subjects annually set for the king's gold medals. In 1828
we had to write Latin Hexameters on the Temple of Jupiter
Ammon." Ward commenced his composition, after the two introduc
tory lines, by fervently disclaiming all pretensions to the poetic
faculty in a parody on the well-known lines of Horace : —
" In Libya tenuit Templum ingens Jupiter Ammon
Cujus origo fuit quam nunc ex ordine pangam.
Ast primum illorum dederim quibus esse poetis
Excerpam numero me. Versus scribere cogor."
" Versifying what he found about the temple in books," con
tinues Lord Selborne, " he made mention of certain medals struck
by Alexander the Great, on his visit to it, and thus concluded :
" ' Quels tamen ah quanto quanto potiora medalla.
Quels caput impositum est quod magnus Wiccamus i olim
Gestabat, meriti nunc premia semper amata.
Non jam prima peto neque elatus vincere certo ;
Quanquam Oh ! Sed vincant qui carminibus mereantur.'
" In the next year a gold medal was given for English verses on

" The head of William of Wykeham was on the obverse of the prize medals."

I BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD 9
'The Spanish Captives sacrificed to the Mexican God of War.'
He began his medal task with a characteristic pun : —
" * Far from a merry key I now must sing,
Though to America my muse takes wing — '
and then proceeded —
" ' Long had the Spaniards crossed the watery way
And reached the fields of bright America.
Long since had Cortes, glorying in might
And caring little for another's right,
Both planned and tried to execute his plans
Against the unoffending Mexicans.
What had they done to him the savage man
That he against their liberty should plan ?
Nothing at aU ; but he both wanted gold
And fame : no other motive are we told — '
with a good deal more of the same quality."
The commencement of his poem on "The Hebrides" is
another characteristic specimen of his EngUsh verses —
" There are some islands in the Northern seas
— At least I'm told so — called the Hebrides."
And a little later a pecuUar feature of a certain barbarous
nation is thus referred to : —
" These people have but very little wood ;
They therefore can't build ships. They wish they could."
One other passage from the verse exercises remembered by
his contemporaries may be quoted — the culmination of a poem
on the " Mariner's Compass." After giving an extremely prosaic
account, with dates and names, of the history of its invention,
he proceeds thus to the further question of its description : —
" But now, alas ! my hardest task draws near :
I must attempt it, though the attempt I fear.
For who can worthily describe in rhyme
This useful instrument, this art sublime ?
In vain with the best invention would one try
To understand it vdthout sight of eye :
And he that's seen it surely will not need
That I explain in word what he has seen in deed.
But yet unwUlingly at last I'll try."
At this point he found that only three lines more were wanted

IO BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD chap.
to complete the minimum quantity required, and so he thus
abruptly concluded : —
" The various points and quarters of the sky
Are painted on a card beneath a hole.
Atop 's a magnet pointing to the pole."
Side by side with the more amusing and eccentric features
which were the first to attract the attention of his schoolboy
companions, there was even at this early period a very strong
element of religious earnestness and serious thought. This
side of his character disclosed itself on occasion to the general
public ; but he so dishked the slightest pretence or display in
such matters, that the extent of its existence was known to
very few — chiefly to his eldest sister Emily, to whom he was
deeply attached. He used to tell her that he always felt that
the one ambition worth having was the promotion of the
cause of God in this world ; and his tone of mind as a school
boy seems to have closely resembled that which Dr. Arnold
developed a little later among his pupUs at Eugby. He
looked to a clerical career as his ultimate destination, and I
have now before me pages of his note-books which were made
the receptacles of his day-dreaming at school, and in which
are written, side by side with the names of his favourite actors
and singers, Mr. 0. Smith and Mr. PhUips, such sentences as
" I remain, my dear sir, yours faithfully, W. G. Winton," or
" Believe me, yours truly, W. G. Oxon."
Though his habits of piety were irregular his mind seemed.
ever to dweU on religion, and his sympathy was aroused by
piety, even in those who were otherwise most uninteresting.
His sisters had a governess who, from all that can be learned
of her, seems to have been commonplace, plain, and duU. The
element of evangehcal piety in her instructions, however, so
drew WiUiam George Ward to her, and he sought her society
so much, that his mother used to say that he was in love
with her. A deep sense of the moral purpose of life, together
with the absence in him of a schoolboy's lighter interests,' and
the consequent habit of unceasing reflection on aU around him,
led to a horror at the immorality prevalent at Winchester,
startling in its degree to most of those who conversed with ,
him on the subject. The effects of this early impres-

I BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD n
sion remained quite unmitigated up to the day of his
death. He loved even in his schoolboy days abstract discussion
and reasoning, though the spirit of Winchester school gave this
taste Uttle scope or encouragement. And the contrast between
his quick perceptions in such matters as mathematics or
ethical speculation, or in the detaUs of the ideal world which
absorbed him in the drama, and his lack of observation in the
concrete affairs of life, was remarkable from the first. Indeed,
it was the more noticeable in early days, from the fact that a
boy's observation of the things about him is generaUy constant
and keen. His ignorance of natural objects was such that a
story is told of his asking, when a boy of twelve years old,
what he was eating, and of his saying on being told that it
was a sole, " It is very nice ; where do they grow ? " The
foUowing extract from an essay written when he was barely
sixteen, though not free from the usual faults of a schoolboy's
writing, sufficiently testifies to habits of abstract and consecu
tive thought unusual at so early an age. The subject for
discussion was " Simplicity is essential to true greatness."
" Now greatness is so indeterminate a notion, it is one which so
much depends in each man's mind on his particular genius and dis
position, that it appears extremely difiicult to refer it to any standard
whatever. Mr, Burke, in speaking of a subject even more uncertain
and anomalous, has expressed this opiuion, ' I have no great opinion
of a definition, the celebrated remedy for the cure of this disorder ;
for when we define we seem in danger of circumscribing nature
within the bounds of our own notions.' But as he has not scrupled
to deviate from his own opinion, and has given a definition the
most clear and comprehensive, I hope I shall be excused if in a
subject less fluctuating and abstruse, I venture to propose a formula
which may embrace in some degree the different lights in which
this idea may be viewed. I think that that seems in general most
to approach true greatness, which inspires in us admiration, mised
with a certain degree of awe and reverence, and this I think cannot
exist without simplicity.
" For to excite any degree of reverence an instantaneous effect
must be felt ; the impression must strike at once or it will lose its
power ; and this can surely never take place when the mind is, as
it were, lost in a multiplicity of surrounding objects. There is
nothing more truly noble and admirable than a common clock ; yet
at first sight I imagine that it inspires no one with either awe or
admiration. Our eye wanders from wheel to wheel, from spring

12 BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD chap.
to spnng, without being able to fix its attention on any one point :
our mind is bewildered in the mighty labyrinth ; all seems per
plexity and confusion. Now, if by a closer investigation of the
construction of this machine, and by the instruction of some able
mechanist, we by degrees obtain a fuller insight into the method
and arrangement of its several parts, if we at length entirely com
prehend the complicated working of wheel within wheel, chain
connected to chain, and perceive the necessary relation which each
in its particular office bears to the whole, we shall without doubt
be sensible of the highest feeling of admiration for the wonderful
ingenuity, the almost incredible nicety of mechanism which it dis
plays. But beyond this our feelings will not go ; we shall have no
idea of reverence or awe in beholding that whose properties we
have gradually discovered, and with which we have been long
familiarised before we are thoroughly acquainted.
" It is upon this principle that nothing can be great in archi
tecture which is covered with a great variety of decorations, although
introduced most tastefuUy and in a manner the most agreeable to
the tenor of the building ; for the eye cannot at once arrange this
multitude of objects so as to fall in uniformly with the design ; and
by the time that it has taken in the general purport, the opportunity
is lost for that instantaneous impression which, as I have said, is
essential to a feeling of awe. And indeed, although proportion
of parts has been by some imagined to be requisite for beauty,
I have never heard of any opinion that it at all constitutes
greatness. "It appears to me that Homer has described Nestor as a much
greater man than Ulysses, nay, I very much doubt if this latter can
lay any claim to that character. We are not particularly struck by
his first appearance, but when we follow him through all his
actions (I speak now of the Odyssey) and perceive one uniform
spirit of wisdom and cunning inspire them, when we find him not
performing a single act, scarcely uttering a single word, without
some concealed and ulterior purpose, we are filled with admiration
at the boundless extent of his forethought and judgment ; but
whilst by a process of the mind we arrive at this conclusion, we
entirely lose that immediate perception which 1 have lately men
tioned. In Nestor, on the other hand, from the very first we
behold with reverence the mellowed wisdom of age, by its experi
ence directing the counsels and moderating the ardour of more
youthful warriors, heard with respect and obeyed with alacrity.
We may in the same manner draw a distinction between Philip,
King of Macedon, and his son Alexander. To the former, on the
same principle as to Ulysses, I should deny the character of a
great man; but I think Alexander, from the singleness of his
character, fairly deserved the name he has handed down to pos-

I BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD 13
terity. On turning to literature we find that Horace has been
censured by Blair for the following stanza : —
'Arma
Nondum expiatis uncta cruoribus
Periculosae plenum opus aleae
Tractas, et incedis per ignes
Suppositos cineri doloso' —
as being crowded with three distinct metaphors, which, although
upon consideration discovered to be perfectly congruous with the
subject, yet by their intricacy disturb and obscure the effect of the
whole. " In this point of view alone, therefore, in every subject simplicity
is essential to true greatness ; but I think that this quality derives
no small portion of its effect from a certain vagueness (if I may be
allowed the word) which arises from it, where the limits not being
defined with any precision, no determinate idea arises in the mind ;
for we feel infinitely the greatest awe at that whose nature and
dimensions we do not exactly understand, and seldom regard any
thing as great whose boundaries we instantly perceive. I may be
understood more clearly by an example. Lord Kane has said that
a circle is the most admirable from being the simplest of all figures ;
and Mr. Burke, that it is most capable of exciting the idea of great
ness. The reason that he gives is this, that it has what he calls a
species of artificial infinity, and that turn which way you will you
can nowhere fix a boundary. The celebrated criticism of Longinus
on the words at the beginning of Genesis : ' And God said, let there
be light, and there was light,' is well known, but I have always
thought that this passage, besides its admirable expression of the
immediate power of God's command, derives some of its greatness
from the incomprehensibleness of the idea. It is above our ideas
to conceive first the total darkness spread over the whole world,
and then the sudden appearance of an instantaneous fiood of light ;
nothing minute and circumstantial is introduced to divert or relieve
the mind ; we have but a confused notion of the whole, and this
very confusedness is a principal cause of subhmity and greatness.
And this consideration may perhaps serve to soften an objection
that may be made to a former part of this theory, and indeed to
the proposition itself that simphcity is essential to true greatness.
There are few things which excite in us greater and more sublime
ideas than the sky thickly studded with stars. 'This has, I believe,
been accounted for by a modern writer by supposing that, as we see
the stars but in one point of view and as blended one with another,
it may justly be called a simple object. But as it is evident that
the more we become acquainted with the complex and intricate
motions of these several bodies, round themselves and with each

14 BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD chap.
other,^the greater awe we feel in beholding them, this supposition,
I thiuk, can hardly stand. I should be disposed to account for it in
this way. In the case of the clock mentioned above we become by
instruction fully masters of the subject ; we understand the depend
ence which the whole has on each particular part, and we perceive
the means of their connection with each other! But in this case,
we are instructed in the science, and perhaps as far as the limits of
the human faculties allow, comprehend it ; but we do not see the
means of action, and it is impossible for the mind to embrace the
idea of myriads of worlds, some wandering their prescribed and
regular course round the sun, others, at a far greater distance, them
selves the centres of motion, about which other planets, to us
invisible, revolve through the vast infinity of space, — all this I say
the mind of man cannot conceive; and this, if there be not anything
(as in the case of the clock) to distract the attention, will cause a
very strong feeling of awe ; the extreme greatness in this particular
counterbalancing the want of immediate perception. Now, in my
opinion, the sensation caused by viewing the sky itself interspersed
with stars, with reference to and perhaps without knowledge of
the principles and method of their action, is totally different from
that inspired by the consideration of their wonderful movements
and tremendous greatness. The former is an affection of the eye,
and may be justly explained by the opinion which I mentioned
above ; but the latter is purely conversant with the mind, and our
clear understanding of their several relations prevents distraction of
the mind, whilst our indistinct perception of them much increases
their greatness. But I must return from this long digression. The
march of Neptune in the thirteenth book of the Iliad has been justly
celebrated as a truly great idea ; it is impossible for anything to be
more simple, and I think that no small part of its grandeur arises
from this same cause of indistinctness. In the whole of that ode of
Horace where he celebrates the graces of Pyrrha, I know nothing
so expressive as that simple and indefinite phrase, ' Simplex mun-
ditiis.' Mr. Burke has finely observed that nothing in any author
gives us a higher idea of the beauty of Helen, from all the splendid
eulogiums which have been pronounced on that celebrated female,
than that passage in the lUad where, upon seeing Helen approach at
a distance, Priam's old and venerable counsellors, far beyond the
reach of youthful passion, burst into exclamation : —
" ' Ou V6yu.eo-ts T/awas naX evKV^/JLiSa? A^aiovs
TotjyS d/j,(fu ywaiKi ttoXvv )^6vov aXyea Trda-^eiv.'
There is nothing defined here, the passage has the greatest simplicity,
yet I question if the famous picture by Zeuxis ever caused such a
high idea of her personal beauty.
" From aU that has been said we may collect this, that in every

I BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD 15
subject, in literature, in architecture, and even in morality, although
simplicity of style may degenerate into negligence, of building into
nakedness, no true greatness can exist without it; let ornaments
then be to the fabric what jewels are to beauty, imperceptible
additions to the whole effect, not themselves the principal objects of
attraction." The element of geniality and lonhomie, which was through
life characteristic of him, made the monitorial duties of the
sixth form distasteful to him. His ideas of discipline, and of
his own duty in enforcing it, were very strict and high, and
those who remember the peculiarly sympathetic traits in his
character can best appreciate how much he was tried by the
strained relations between the prefects (as they were caUed)
and the rest of the boys in 1828. He himself in later Ufe often
spoke of his duties as prefect as particularly uncongenial ; and
it was in keeping with his general character that this very
fact should make him all the more strict with himself in their
exact performance.
Lord Selborne thus describes the system of " prefects " as
it existed at Winchester in those days : —
"There were then 130 boys in 'commoners,' of whom the
first eight, according to their rank in the school, were prefects. The
prefects were entrusted by the headmaster with the general main
tenance of discipline among the boys when no master was present ;
and in return had certain recognised rights to services from the
boys below the ' senior part of the fifth,' and power to inflict punish
ment (within customary and reasonable limits), for breaches of dis
cipline and acts of insubordination. The popular notion, which
identifies this system (common under various forms and modifica
tions to aU our great public schools) with tyranny or ' bullying,'^ is
much mistaken. The existence of such a recognised authority, with
its concurrent responsibility, in some of the elder boys of a great
school, is (on the contrary) a valuable safeguard against serious
evils, which no amount of supervision on the part of masters or
tutors could go far to check, and (amongst others) against tyranny,
by the brute force of the strong over the weak. But it is essential
for the success of this system, that the boys entrusted with power
should be sible in general to hold their own physically as weU as
morally; and should not be too much dependent on the mere
authority of their office, and the support of the masters. This was
especially the case in ' commoners ' at Wmchester at the time of
which I speak. Except on holidays or part-hoUdays (of which there
were two in each week), one hour only of the day was spent in the

i6 BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD chai
playground, or beyond the walls of the school buildings ; all th
rest of every working day was spent by all the 130 commoner
either in the schoohoom or in the courtyard or dining-haU of th
building (wholly destitute of modern comforts, and happily no\
among the things of the past), in which the commoners were housed
Each boy (except the six senior prefects, who shared a ' study ' witl
as many desks between them, and some of the youngest who sat a
the tables) had a cupboard containing his books, etc., set up agains
the wall of the dining-haU, with a desk for ink, etc., and a seat i]
front upon a fixed form, which was carried all round the hal]
During certain hours every boy had to sit there in his prope
place, preparing (or supposed to prepare) his lessons ; order beini
kept by a master, when present, or by a prefect in the absence o
any master. All the 130 had their meals in this haU, at tables se
longitudinally for that purpose ; and, during and after breakfas
(I think also during and after tea and supper) the juniors in ;
certain course and order were, or were supposed to be, in readiness
when called to do such services as the prefects might require o
them. " Most of the prefects when Ward became senior prefect wer
new to that office ; and neither Ward nor any other had held i
long. The six seniors who shared the study between them (and oi
whom the main weight of the trouble which followed fell) wer
Ward, Tindal (son of the Solicitor-General, afterwards Chief-Justio
of the Common Pleas), and Gaselee (son of a judge and afterward
a double first-class man at Oxford), Lowe (now Lord Sherbrooke)
Abraham (also distinguished at Oxford), and myself. We were
taken altogether, below the average age and strength usual at th(
top of the school ; we were of httle account in school games. . . .
In this state of things the con(|S!sions^ seem to have beei
wanting for combining popularity with the ^attempt to enforc(
school discipUne. Prefects possessed of the quaiUties which mak(
up the schoolboy's hero — physical actijjwfty, brUUancy at th(
games, bodUy strength, — might have secured the order of thi
school, without losing the goodwUl of the younger boys. Bu
Ward and his friends had necessarily to sacrifice one thing o:
the other ; and whUe some of the prefects were more disposec
to let things take their own course. Ward, in spite of th(
odium he incurred, insisted on the strictest enforcement o
discipline. His dogged conscientiousness, in the teeth o
pubhc feeling among the boys, at last brought things to !
crisis. "An effort," continues Lord Selborne, "which Ward made on(

I BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD 17
morning to enforce his authority resulted in a sudden, and (no
doubt) preconcerted resistance. A great number of boys, of all
sorts and sizes, rushed simultaneously to the rescue of an offender
whom he was about to punish, jumping on Ward's back, taking
possession of his arms and legs, and almost choking him. I was
one of the prefects present, but we were powerless and helpless. I
followed him to the door, making his way out with herculean
strength, dragging with him a load sufficient (as it seemed to us) for
an elephant (to which animal the boys sometimes compared him)
to carry." Six boys were expelled in consequence of this insurrection,
and the matter attained pubhcity from a controversy which
ensued between Dr. Williams (who had succeeded Dr. Gable
as headmaster) and Sir Alexander Malet, brother of one of
the offenders. Ward received little credit from the pubUc for
his conscientiousness. The papers espoused the cause of one
of the boys who had been seriously hurt by him as he struggled
to defend himself, and Ward himself was spoken of in terms
amusing to look back upon : " What will be the future fate of
this unhappy young man it is difficult to prophesy. So much
cruelty of disposition at so early an age is indeed a sad augury
for his future career."
His summer holidays were generally spent either at
Northwood with his grandfather, or at Cobham with his uncle,
Mr. Hai'Vey Combe. It was here that his family for the first
time came to believe in his great conversational talents. Mr.
Harvey Combe had looked upon him as a pecuUar and odd
boy, with no taste for sport, unable to enjoy what others
enjoyed, and had paid little attention to him. An eminent
and cultivated dignitary of the Anglican Church, however, who
was staying at Cobham one summer, at once detected the
originality and unusual gifts of WiUiam George Ward, and
conversed with him constantly, to Mr. Combe's surprise, and
ended by giving his opinion that the boy had very great
powers both of talking and of thinking, and would some day
make his mark. Thenceforward he was looked upon in a
more serious and respectful light by his relations at Cobham.
The intense melancholy of his disposition was noticeable
in boyhood, in spite of his keen powers of enjoyment and
sense of fun. It was owing partly to his constant headaches,
and to the Ul-health which, without destroying the energy of
c

1 8 BOYHOOD OF WILLIAM GEORGE WARD chap, i
his nature or the strength of his constitution, prevented his
ever enjoying a day of real comfort : and this reacted on his
mind, and gave to his view of Ufe a touch of morbidness.
The " background of his life," as he expressed it, was melan
choly, and he had a consequent craving for amusement, as the
only rehef from positive pain. " Who will tell me of some
thing to look forward to," he often exclaimed to his school-
feUows. And he used to say that, even in the early years of
his childhood, he was wont to confide to his sister Emily that
he thought life altogether so melancholy that he wished to be
out of it. One additional trial to him, which diminished later
in life, was the sense of being misunderstood both at home and
at school. He had to go through something of the pain which
George Eliot describes as attending him who has the poet's
nature without the poet's voice. Great delicacy and sensitive
ness of feeling and perception were hidden beneath a clumsy
exterior and a brusque and bluff manner, and the rough-and-
ready view of him formed on external grounds by schoolboys
and relations whose tastes and ideas were uncongenial, was a
constant source of trial.
He left Winchester soon after his seventeenth birthday in
1829, and through some accidental delay in placing his name
on the books did not go up to Oxford untU the October term
of 1830. In the interval he devoted himself to misceUaneous
reading, chiefly in mathematics and pohtical economy and
philosophy, the works of Mill and Bentham being especial
favourites with him in these latter departments.

CHAPTEE II
LIFE AT OXFOED
In the October term of 1830 Ward went up to Oxford as a
Commoner of Christ Church. The religious movement in
which he later on took so prominent a part had not begun ;
and he was thrown in contact with the political discussions of
the Oxford Union, which was then at its zenith. His own
Winchester friends, EoundeU Palmer, Lowe, and Cardwell,
looked forward to a poUtical career, and so, greatly by force
of circumstances, Mr. Ward's early Oxford life was identifled
with the stirripg debates to which the period of the first
Eeform Bill was calculated to give rise.
"We lived in the same set at the University," writes Lord
Selborne, " consisting chiefly of Balliol and Trinity men, with a few
from Christ Church and some other colleges. It included Tait,
afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury ; Scott, now Dean of
Eochester ; Cardwell ; Lowe ; Eickards, lately counsel to the
Speaker, and now K.C.B. ; William Sinclair, brother of Sir George
and Miss Catherine Sinclair ; and Charles Marriott, who in due
time became a learned and universally esteemed divine. Besides
their agreement in other intellectual pursuits the members of
this set had a common centre of interest in the ' Union ' (the
University debating society), in wliich many of them, and Ward
among others, took leading parts, when the generation of which
Gladstone and Sidney Herbert were the great lights had exchanged
that mimic parliament for the floor of the House of Commons."
Ward is spoken of in an Oxford pamphlet ^ of the time as
" Tory chief " of the Union, and he was elected president of
' In tlie English version of the Uniojnachia, described later in the text,
comes tho lino, "Ward Tory chief, and Cardwell's giacoful mien."

20 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.
the Society in the Michaelmas term of 1832, having fiUed the
office of treasurer in the preceding term.^
The change from Winchester to Oxford was in every way
congenial to Mr. Ward. The awkward eccentric boy, who
had no taste for the games, and whose talents found Uttle
scope in the routine of school life, and were Uttle appreciated,
passed now into an atmosphere where inteUectual gifts were the
great passport to success, and speculation and discussion in
one form or another were the chief interest. His conversa
tional powers developed, whUe his speaking at the Union
is said to have been extremely forcible and fluent. It
appears from the records of the Union that the first
occasion on which he spoke was on 23d February 1832.
Lord Lincoln, president for that term, was in the chair. The
motion before the Union was, " That the weak and vacillating
conduct of the Ministry has mainly tended to produce the
present distressed state of Ireland." This was moved by Mr.
Berry of Brasenose. Ward proposed as an amendment, " That
whatever may be the main causes which have produced the
present alarming condition of Ireland, the weak and vacUlat-
ing conduct of Lord Grey's Government has in no small
degree aggravated the existing evils." Another amendment
was moved by Mr. Cardwell, " That the evils which for the
last thirty years have afflicted Ireland, have not been amehor-
ated by the measures of late pursued towards it." Mr.
CardweU's motion was lost, on a division, by 42 to 18.
Ward's amendment was then adopted by Mr. Berry, and
carried without a division. His name is not again found in
the debates until l7th May of the same year. Mr. Eickards
was in the chair, and Ward moved, " That an absolute mon
archy is a more desirable form of government than the
constitution proposed by the Eeform Bill of Lord John
EusseU." He was supported by EoundeU Palmer among
others, and opposed by Mr. Lowe. The motion was lost by
the small minority of six. From that day onwards his name
appears in almost aU the debates.
The political Ufe of the Oxford Union was at its very
' The presidents of the Union during the years 1832 and 1833 were the Earl
of Lincoln, Mr. Eickards, Mr. EoundeU Palmer, Mr. Ward, Mr. Cardwell, and
Mr. Tait.

LIFE AT OXFORD

best at that time, and, in the opinion of many, attained a
higher level than even in the previous generation of Gladstone
and Sidney Herbert. Politics as such were, however, less
attractive to Ward's speculative mind than political phUosophy
— the adjustment of the laws of government, its principles,
its ends. He was a hereditary Tory, his father and his great-
uncle Mr. Plumer Ward (both of them at that time members
of the Lower House), being staunch Tories. But whUe adhering
through life to many articles of the Tory creed, it cannot be
said that his principles were conservative after he began to
think for himself. His sympathies were always strongly with
the people, and against all unchristian abuses of caste ; and
though he consistently disapproved of the Eeform BiU of '32,
aud upheld the importance of many aristocratic elements in
society with which the Eadical would do away, he did not hold
these views on conservative principles. Hallam has thus
described the contrast, historically speaking, between the prin
ciples of the two great parties : " The Whig had a natural
tendency to political improvement ; the Tory an aversion to it.
The one loved to descant on liberty and the rights of mankind ;
the other on the mischief of sedition and the rights of kings."
And again, it has been said that the Tory treats the constitution
as such as the great end ; while the Liberal looks at the constitu
tion as having a claim to his respect only so far and so long as
it is found to be beneficial to the people. If these definitions
he correct, from a very early period so much of the Tory pro
gramme as Ward upheld was advocated on the Liberal theory.
" He always brought everything back to first principles," writes
his old friend Mr. David Lewis, of Arundel ; ^ and in its very
definition thoroughgoing Toryism refrained from this. It
naturally followed that his conclusions themselves grew some
what broader as time went on, and he came to advocate mea
sures identified with Liberal politics. Thus we find him on
16th May 1833 bringing a motion before the Union in favour
of admitting Jews to seats in the Legislature. The conception
was too advanced for the politics of Oxford, and his motion
was rejected by 42 votes to 18.
As to his manner of speaking in the debates it is described
as extremely simple in language, rather rapid, fluent, clear in
1 Mr. Lems was Ward's contemporary at Oxford.

22 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.
aigument with the clearness of Euclid, giving the impression
that the speaker was intensely in earnest, and supported by a
very fine and melodious bass voice, with great power of subtle
cadence. The present Dean of St. Paul's, looking back at those
days, gives the palm in speaking to Ward and Eobert Lowe.
Cardwell was equally fluent, but the effect of his speeches was
injured by a touch of affectation. He attempted to imitate
the mannerisms of Sir Eobert Peel in the House of Commons,
and the resiUt was a certain self-consciousness, a straining after
effect. With both Ward and Lowe, according to the Dean's
account, there was a strong sense of the seriousness of the
matters in debate ; and they raised the atmosphere of discussion
above that of a mimic parliament, — playing at ministers as
boys may play at soldiers, — to that of serious men discussing
views known and felt in aU the importance of their bearing.
If the palm must be given to either, Lowe carried it off in the
directly political debates, and Ward in those connected with
the carrying on of the Union, and in such times of dissension
among its members as that referred to by Archdeacon Browne
in the letter which I print in this chapter.
A sketch of the " Union " speakers appeared at the time
in one of the magazines, describing a conversation between a
father and son who have been present at one of the debates,
and discuss the relative merits of the various speakers. The son
is captivated by the brilliant and flowery oratory of Cardwell;
but the father says, " To my thinking much the best speaker is
, that stout young man with the bass voice, who speaks with his
arm resting on the table. Everything he says is weighty, clear,
and impressive ; and he speaks as though he were thoroughly
convinced that he is right." This young man was Ward.^
The foUowing letter from Archdeacon Browne of Bath and
Wells to myself gives some recoUections by a contemporary of
the scenes amid which Ward's undergraduate life was passed :
" I promised," he writes, " to send you a few recollections oi
your late father. Dr. W. G. Ward, in his earlier Oxford days. He
was somewhat junior to me, but as I was made tutor of my college
immediately on taking my B.A degree, I resided for some years
after my undergraduate days were ended, and therefore numbered
^ This description was repeated from memory to me by one who read it. I
have not been able to find the original paper.

LIFE AT OXFORD 23

amongst my intimate friends some of the leading and most distin
guished undergraduates. I need not remind you that amongst such
Ward held a high place as well in the estimation of the University
authorities as of his contemporaries. He was at first a commoner
of Christ Church, but for some reason, it might have been some
trifling disagreement with his tutors there, he stood for a scholar
ship at Lincoln College, and was unanimously elected.^ He was
even then a powerful reasoner, and could well maintain his ground
in argument whether in public debate or in friendly conversation.
He was a great walker, and often I was his companion in his con
stitutionals, when we discussed subjects of Oxford interest both
ancient and modern. When Arthur Stanley came up he frequently
formed one of our walking party. Ward always held very strong
opinions, and often said to me, 'Browne, you and I shall never
agree, for you will always be a moderate man, which I can never be.'
" Great as were his talents and unwearied as was his taste for
reading, both literary and scientific, he had no poetic talent. I
remember he used to give us amusing examples of his verse exer
cises at Winchester ; e.g. in a copy which he had to write on Daniel
in the lion's den, he used to quote with great humour as a specially
fine passage —
' Cras rex solque simul surgunt, rex advenit antrum,
Et voce exclamat magna " nunc si potes exi."
Eespondit Daniel "rex vive in secula cuncta."'
" He would draw our attention with great zest to the alliteration
in the first line. . . .
" His great passion was for music, in every kind of which he
took the greatest delight, from the operas of Mozart and Eossini to
the burlesques at the Olympic. One of the principal fields in which
he won his reputation as an undergraduate was the Union debating
society. In most of the debates he took a leading part, and, so far
as my memory goes, spoke on the Tory side in that memorable
debate on Parliamentary reform in 1832, in which Mr. Gladstone
led the opposition to the Eeform Bill and converted Alston, the son
of the member for Hertford, who immediately on the conclusion of
Gladstone's speech walked across from the Whig to the Tory side
of the House amidst loud acclamations.
"The year 1833 was celebrated in undergraduate annals for the
establishment of the club caUed the ' Eambler,' so named because
it held its meetings at the rooms of each of the members in tum.
Of this club, as I had already taken my B.A. degree, I was senior
member. Its history was as follows : The committee of the Union,
amongst whom were EoundeU Palmer, Edward Cardwell, A. C. Tait,
W. G. Ward, J. Wickens (late Vice-ChanceUor), were opposed by

1 The reason for his leaving Christ Chureh is given on p. 25.

24 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.

Lowe, Massie, and Brancker, two Ireland scholars, and others ; and
owing partly to their feeling too secure in their places the stand
ing committee was beaten in the election. Political feeling may
have had something to do with setting up this opposition, as tlie
old committee were nearly all Tories. The result of this was that
the old committee, with the aid of some of their supporters in the
Union, founded the Eambler. The names of almost all the mem
bers of the Eambler have since become weU knovm. Amongst
them, besides the few I have already mentioned, were its first
president, Edwardes Lyall, who died Advocate-General of India;
and its first secretary Allies, Examining Chaplain to Blomfield,
Bishop of London, who, alas ! was one of those regretted friends
who, with Cardinal Newman, Capes, Fathers TickeU and Faber,
Bowden, and your dear father, left our Church; ^ the Eight Honour
able Sir J. Mowbray, Bart, (then known as John Eobert Cornish) ;
Sir G. K. Eickards, K.C.B. ; Scott, afterwards Master of BaUiol,
now Dean of Eochester ; ^ Archdeacon Giles ; Dean Stanley ; E.
Montgomery, the poet ; Bame, the well-known vicar of Farringdon ;
the gentle C. Marriott, Principal of Chichester Theological College ;
Thomas Jackson, Prebendary of St. Paul's; W. Sinclair of St. George's,
Leeds, and a few others whose names I cannot call to mind.
"The interest which all of us took in our new association,
together with the freedom which we enjoyed in our small home-like
meetings, rather interfered with the attendance at the Union, in
fact to such an extent that the new committee actually entertained
the idea of expelling the Eamblers from the Union, and proposed
a motion with that object, which was, as might be expected, un
successful. It happened that one of the members, T. Jackson of
St. Mary's Hall, was at that time engaged in correcting for the
press a new edition of Homer for the Clarendon, and was therefore
full of the Homeric spirit. With some assistance from W. Sinclair,
a member of the same hall, who took a great interest in the debates
both of the Union and of the Eambler, he published a Homeric
poem in macaronic Greek Homeric verse, describing the battle
between the two societies, entitled Uniomachia. It had a dog-
Latin interpretatio, and a spicUegium of annotations added by the
present Dean of Eochester (Scott). ... In this poem the different
leaders are characteristically described — e.g. Ward is Tuptuo-Tos
"OapSoi, Sinclair is ^lyKXaipos l.Kijxprqpws, Skimmery being the
well-known substitute for S. Mary; E. Lowe is fj.eX6.yyovvos, he
having just put on his B.A. gown ; E. W. Mayow appears in the
form of Athena as a peacemaker with the epithet p.kiXSos, A. C.
1 " By the by, it was said jestingly by one of the enemies of our society, that
not much could be expected of a club of which the president was Lie-all and the
secretary All-lies. "
2 This sketch was written three years ago.

LIFE AT OXFORD 25

Tait leaps on the ground, brandishes his cap, stirs up the row
afresh, and is fined a sovereign for disobeying the caU to order of
the president ; Marriott is called (j^iXairaros upei-jXiov, and as he had
a melancholy voice, and was often called " groans," comes forward
p.eya ypdiviov. The result of this undergraduate strife was that the
quarrel was made up ; all became good friends, and a grand recon
ciliation dinner took place in the Star Hotel, at which most of the
members of both societies attended, and I, as the only member who
had taken holy orders, said grace.
" Such were the friends amongst whom your dear father lived
and moved, beloved and respected, in his Oxford undergraduate
days ; friends who, from the late Archbishop of Canterbury down
wards, never forgot his open cheerful countenance, his powerful
intellect, his gay humour, and his affectionate disposition, although
different walks of life separated them from him — days which were
crowned with one of the highest prizes Oxford can bestow, a Fellow
ship of Balliol."
The Union absorbed all Mr. Ward's energies during the
greater part of his undergraduate days. Both the public
matters debated, and the domestic controversies referred to by
Archdeacon Browne, afforded ample food for the discussions in
which he revelled. His whole heart was in it. " There goes
old Ward, the walking incarnation of the Union," Cardwell is
reported to have said one day on seeing him saunter in to a
late breakfast party. He had little taste for the regular
studies of the University, and was entirely devoid of any am
bition to distinguish himself. He was a constant but very
desultory reader, reading very rapidly and retaining accurately
what he read, though unable to continue the effort for long
together without intermission, owing to the headaches which
were a perpetual source of trial to him. His reading, more
over, was miscellaneous, and he was in no sense a student. He
had no idea of taking honours untU his father's embarrassed
circumstances made it a matter of importance that he should
stand well in the class list, and obtain a feUowship. For this
purpose it was necessary to put off his examination and read
with a tutor. The regulations at Christ Church not permitting
this, he stood, as we have seen, for a scholarship at Lincoln,
and was unanimously elected in 1833. But even the import
ance to his future of securing his double first was not sufficient
stimulus to make him work steadily at subjects not to his
taste — " out of his line," as he expressed it — and when

26 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.
given by his tutor, on the eve of examination, a set of
speciaUy important formiUae in mechanics to learn, he sat
up reading one of Miss Austen's novels instead. The rapidity
and accuracy of his work in pure mathematics were said to
be wonderfiU ; but he could not bear appUed mathematics,
the experimental methods whereby natural forces are under
stood, and the necessity for being content often with approxi
mate results, being especially distasteful to him. " The study
of friction makes me feel literaUy sick," he used to say ;
and nothing would induce him to work seriously at what
was so uncongenial In classical scholarship, again, he
was, in Latin especiaUy, quite firstrate. But in the matter
of collateral knowledge, as to the history of the works
he was reading, the circumstances of their composition, the
lives of their authors ; and again, as to the history of the
times with which they dealt — except so far as it was con
veyed in the actual works themselves — he professed total
ignorance. He said that such things did not interest him and
that he did not understand them, so he simply left them alone.
Most men under actual examination do their best to con
ceal their ignorance, or at least to try and find a partial
answer even if they have not sufficient knowledge to give
a complete one. But with Ward it was otherwise. Directly
he was questioned on subjects he had not got up, without
waiting to reflect whether his knowledge might enable him
to give some answer, he abruptly and aggressively insisted
that he knew nothing whatever about them. He had a
curious pleasure, too, in being more than candid in admissions
to his own disadvantage. The result was a memorable and
amusing scene when his vivd voce examination for his degree
came on in 1834. His examiners in classics were Mr
Augustus Short ; Mr. W. H. Cox, the great supporter of Dr.
Hampden in his celebrated confhct with the University in
1836; Mr. Moberly, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury; and
Mr. E. W. Head of Merton, afterwards Sir Edmund Head.
His examiners in mathematics were Mr. Arthur Neate of
Trinity, Mr. W. E. BroweU, and Mr. G. Johnson, afterwards
Dean of Wells. The viva voce examination in classics was
public, and when a prominent man was being examined the
schools were thronged by undergraduates and fellows. Con-

LIFE AT OXFORD 27

siderable curiosity was felt as to how Ward would acquit him
self, and the audience was large.
One of Cicero's letters to his brother Quintus is chosen, and
the examiner tells Ward to turn to a particular part. Ward
reads it admirably, his voice being exceUent, his intonation and
inflections faultless, and his sense of the meaning and spirit of
the passage leaving nothing to be desired. Attention is
aroused. The audience — consisting of a large number of
undergraduates and a good sprinkling of dons — is on the qui
vive. Here is a firstrate man evidently. The construing
comes next, which, if not quite so exceptionaUy good as the
reading, still quite bears out the expectation of a display of first-
class abiUty. The examiner, in obvious good humour, says at
the end, " Very well, Mr. Ward, and now let me ask you. What
are the principal letters which we have now extant of Cicero ?
To whom were they written ? " Ward (without the sUghtest
hesitation), " I really don't know." The examiner (surprised,
and after a short pause), " The letter from which you have just
construed a passage was written on the eve of a very eventful
time ; can you tell me something of the events which foUowed
immediately afterwards ?" Ward, " I know nothing whatever
about them." This was said with perfect gravity and in a
tone of philosophic resignation. " Take your time, Mr. Ward,"
says the examiner, "you are nervous." "No, sir," replies
Ward, " it's not nervousness ; pure ignorance." The examiner
made another attempt. "In what year was it written?''
Ward (with energy), " I haven't the slightest idea." (Father
Faber used to say that as the examination proceeded he began
to give his answers in a tone of resentment, as though the
questions were impertinent ones.) ^
His frank confessions of ignorance attracted the attention
of the well-known Dr. Jenkyns of BaUiol, and drew from him
an often-quoted malaprop, " There is a candid ingenuity about
the feUow which pleases me," he remarked to a friend. Ward's
scholarship, however, went for a good deal ; and though m the
face of his disregard of the required historical and collateral
work a first class was out of the question, the examiners gave
him a second.
1 This description is taken down from the account of an eye-witness. My
informant does not, however, vouch for the exact book chosen for the examination.

28 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.
In the mathematical schools the case was similar. There
were five papers for the written examination on pure mathe
matics, and five on mixed. The five on pure he did without
one mistake, and in the very best style. With the five on
mixed he dealt as foUows : — He sent up four of them abso
lutely blank, attempting no single question. On the fifth he
saw a question about a rainbow of which he knew something,
and he drew a sketch of the rainbow and sent up the paper
without any further attempt. " It was the very shadiest rain
bow I ever saw," his friend Johnson, one of the examiners,
afterwards told him. StiU the excellence of the papers on
pure mathematics was such that Mr. Johnson wanted to give
him a first class, notwithstanding his unceremonious treatment
of the rest. In the end they gave him a second in the mathe
matical, as they had in the classical schools.
Before he stood for an open Fellowship at Balliol there was
some thought of his election to a close Fellowship at All Souls.
The chief passports to success at All Souls were social, both as
regarded connection and personal quaUties. His father's infiu
ence and wide circle of friends secured him ample support on
the first head ; and the master and fellows wished to know
more of the personal qualities of the candidate. They are said
to have been fairly puzzled when he was asked to dinner and
put on his triaL The interest and power of his conversation
quite carried them away ; but then the total disregard of conven
tionality, and of the principle that a fellow of AU Souls should
be tene vestitus} were not to be endured. These shortcomings
were, however, forgotten at dinner while he kept the whole
table absorbed (as a contemporary expresses it) in the unceasing
succession of views, anecdotes, and discussions which he poured
forth ; and it was said that had the votes been taken then and
there he would have been unanimously elected. But Mr. Sneyd,
the dignified warden of All Souls, was a great stickler for the
proprieties of Ufe ; and when the pros and cons were afterwards
weighed, he could not brook the coolness with which the honour
of his invitation to dinner had been treated. " He had not
even taken the trouble to change his boots," he said.
He was elected to an open FeUowship at Balliol on the
• The three qualifications for an All Souls' Fellowship were (according to
Oxford traditional gossip) hene naius, bene vestitus, mediocriter doctus.

LIFE AT OXFORD 29

same day as the late Archbishop Tait, during the interval
which elapsed between his examinations for his degree in
classics and mathematics.
The events connected with the ten years of his Fellowship,
including the period when he was one of the most prominent
and active of the advanced Tractarians, shall be related shortly.
Here it must suffice to say that up to the year 1838 he was a
disciple of Arnold and Whately, the precursors of the Broad
Church school; and that from 1838 to 1845, under the influ
ence of Mr. Newman's teaching, he advocated the views of the
Oxford movement in a pronounced form which left little doubt
that he was on his way to the Eoman Church. But, before
tracing this part of his career in detail, some selections must
be made from the reminiscences kindly fumished me by those
who knew him as Fellow and Mathematical Lecturer at BaUiol,
that a clearer idea may be formed of his characteristics and habits.
He is described as stout and unwieldy, but of striking
presence; with clear cut features of gi'eat mobUity of ex
pression, and as having a " joyousness of manner " which was
infectious. When serious, says a friend, his face expressed a
remarkable combination of inteUectual power with gentleness.
His voice was powerful and musical in speaking as weU
as in singing, and "his laugh mighty." His speech was
always downright, straightforward, and frank to a fault. His
statement was clear and direct, and there was no escape from
him in argument. He always went straight to his point,
without conventional preamble. He would meet a friend out
walking, and accost him in the same breath with " How d'ye
(Jo ? — what do you think of Newman's answer to Fausset on
such a point ? " The first occasion on which A. P. Stanley
(afterwards Dean of Westminster) ever saw him — at a time
when he was fresh from Eugby and when Ward was be
ginning to read with eagerness Dr. Arnold's discourses — is
thus described in a letter from Stanley to W. C. Lake : * " Last
ni"ht a large moon -faced man — Ward, of Lincoln, late of
Christ Church — rushed into Faber's rooms, and on seeing me,
at once asked when the new volume of Arnold's sermons would
be out." He could not bear pretence of any kind in others,
and still less could he endure that others should credit him
' The present Dean of Durham.

30 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.
with good qualities which he did not believe himself to
possess. He loved a startling opinion and in its most start
ling form, and he delighted in perplexing everyone by the
abrupt statement, or rather over-statement, of an undeniable
truth in the most unacceptable words conceivable. " My
impression of him generaUy at that time," writes the late
Dean Scott of Eochester, " was that partly from an honesty of
mind which could not endure that his friends should not know
of him what they would think the worst, and partly from a
playful fondness for displaying his dialectics in conversation,
a great discount was to be aUowed on all that was most start
ling in what he used to blurt out. He had a mischievous
delight in making the ' moderates ' stare." The brusqueness of
manner of which his schoolfeUows speak seems to have become
less pronounced at Oxford, as his taste and opportunities for
intellectual conversation grew ; though it still found occasional
expression in abrupt and somewhat Johnsonian rejoinders.
For example, there was a story current of his sitting at dinner
next to a clergyman who had been preaching at St. Mary's as
select preacher. Ward had been present at the sermon, and
had condemned it to his friends as one of the worst he had
ever heard. The preacher, in all unconsciousness, began at
once referring to his sermon, and asked Ward if he had heard
it. As the conversation proceeded, the difficulty of speaking
of it at length without implying his view of its quality in
creased. Ward had been all the afternoon boiUng over with
indignation at such a sermon being tolerated in Oxford; and
now malicious fortune had placed him in a situation in which
he had to keep on saying civU things to the offender. Strug
gling StiU to keep on safe ground he asked, " How much do
they pay you for these sermons ? " " Five pounds " was the
reply ; and after a pause, " Don't you think that enough ? "
The answer which suggested itself was irresistible : " I don't
know," Ward replied ; " I wouldn't have preached it for fifty."
His love of paradox betrayed itself in his conversation
constantly, not only on hghter topics, but in discussing the
most serious problems. Even when the conclusion he wished
to express was most real and important, he would often throw
it into a startling form. Thus in discussing the question of
equivocation, as to how far it is lawful on occasion, he main-

LIFE AT OXFORD 31

tained, as against those who admit the lawfulness of words
literally true but misleading, that the more straightforward
principle is that occasionally when duties conflict, another duty
may be more imperative than the duty of truthfulness. But
he expressed it thus : " Make yourself clear that you are justi
fied in deception, and then lie Uke a trooper." So, too, in
reference to his pet aversion, the typical Churchman of those
days — the dignitary of moderate views and immoderate income,
with his want of enthusiasm, his serene self-satisfaction, his
selfishness, his love of place and power — he woiUd say : " If
any man be called ' moderate ' or ' venerable ' beware of him ;
if he be called both you may be sure he is a scoundrel."
But, though he loved to express himself in a startling
manner, he was intensely in earnest in all his views. There
was no flippancy or unreality of thought. The paradox arose
rather from perceiving a truth so keenly, or adopting an opinion
with such energy and force, as to exaggerate its true character.
And this often had the effect of impressing his meaning more
clearly on the mind than more hesitating and quahfied state
ments, as the cartoons in Vanity Fair may give the character
of face and person more forcibly than a photograph.
All his contemporaries — friends and comparative strangers
alike — are agreed as to his extraordinary powers of conversa
tion, and his invariable kindliness in spite of the occasional
" knock down " repartees which would come from time to time.
They were accompanied by a bonhomie, and an almost sympa
thetic expression of face, which took the sting out of them.
Indeed he seemed sometimes to take a pleasure in combining
the utmost gentleness and geniaUty of manner, the sweetest
and most affectionate smUe, with some tremendous denuncia
tion of the " detestable " or " base " character of the view he
was opposing. " He never lost his temper," writes Mr. David
Lewis, "and there could not be a more genial and good-
tempered disputant than he was. However much he was
tried by the obstinacy or ignorance of his opponents he never
was uncourteous or hard. His great command of himself in
this respect explains the fact that he had personal fi:iends with
whom perhaps he held no principle in common." Dean Scott
of Eochester, who was his contemporary at BaUiol, looking back
at those days, while allowing that they were not sympathetic

32 LIFE AT OXFORD

souls — for he could never foUow Ward in his extreme
opinions — writes : " I admired — no one could help admiring
— the manhness and kindliness of his character, his zeal for
truth and boldness in searching for it, and the wonderful
brilUance of his conversation, especially when it took the
shape, as it often did, of argumentative discussion." And
Lord Coleridge, speaking of the same days, says : " Like every
one who knew him, I delighted in his society, and thought
him one of the cleverest and most brilliant men I ever came
across.'' Another friend adds : " He was never prosy and
never absorbed the conversation. His own animation in
talking was infectious, and made others talk. He was ever
ready to lead the conversation to topics on which others had
•something to tell him, and was anxious to learn from them.
This habit, as well as his own rare powers of talking, raade him
invariably the centre of any social group in which he found
himself" The Eev. James Lonsdale, a son of the late Bishop
of Lichfield, and Mr. Ward's pupU in mathematics, writes thus
of him : —
" 1 was his college pupil in mathematics ; in teaching them he
was vigorous and animated. He was most undonnish, but yet we
felt that we could not take liberties with him. . . . He was not very
particular as to his dress, and would say, ' What is the use of my
dressing well ? I am never anywhere except in London and at
Oxford. In Oxford it does not matter because every one knows
who I am. In London it does not matter because no one knows
who I am.' . . . He was at Oxford long before the history schools
were established, and was no believer in history as a study ,i and I
remember his saying, ' I would as soon know all about Mr. Smith
getting up in the morning, having his breakfast, and going to the
city in a 'bus, as the details of Cambyses conquering Egypt.' . . .
He had a wonderful memory, and could repeat scores of lines of
burlesque poetry. In conversation he was marvellously quick, and
lively, and varied ; of anecdotes he had a great store ; he was
always willing to listen to objections to what he had said, and sur
prisingly quick in giving answers to them. He was unwearied in
arguing ; to hear him argue was indeed a treat. As I look back
through many years, 1 can remember none like him, and have a
lively recollection of his kindness to those who were younger and
^ This statement must be somewhat qualified if it is to be reconciled with
some of his Oxford writings. But he certainly disliked the dry details of
history, where they threw no light whatever on the philosophy of life.

LIFE AT OXFORD 33

inferior, his wiUingness to talk to them, and to listen to them too,
the clearness of his intellect, the good-humoured enjoyment veith
which he entered into discussion, his apparent desire of fairly
sifting all questions to the bottom. I remember his saying to me,
'My creed is very short: Credo in Newmannum'^ (this was of
course after he had joined the Newmanites in 1838).
" Many an argument in particular would he have with Mr. Tait,
then fellow of BaUiol, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. The
shrewdness of the Scotchman and the logical power of Mr. Ward
were well pitted against one another. Once when Mr. Tait said,
' Your opinions are not the right ones for a fellow of this college
to hold' (referring ... to Tractarian opinions), he answered in
an instant : — ' I should like to know whose opinions, yours or mine,
agree most with those of the founders of the college.' He asked
his friend Mr. Oakeley, then a fellow of the college, ' Melancthon
was not so detestable as the rest of the reformers, was he '! ' . . .
There was a clever but perhaps rather conceited candidate for a
fellowship at Balliol, and one of the fellows said, ' If he should be
elected I fear we should never be able to keep him in order in the
common room,' but another answered, ' I think we need not fear.
Ward will do that.'
" Having to leave the college on account of my health, I lost the
pleasure of your father's wonderful conversation and kindly society
just at the time when I should have enjoyed them most. How
ever, the remembrance of them and of your father is very distinct
after the lapse of between forty and fifty years. His great friend
in college was kind, good, loveable, and scholarhke, gentle Mr.
Frederick Oakeley; and the striking contrast between the two friends,
both so good, yet so very different in manner and gifts, makes me
remember both most clearly and most pleasantly, so that at times
I can almost fancy I am still in the old common room with
them." Besides the discussions in the BaUiol common room, another
opportunity for conversation was his daily constitutional,
which was always taken in company with one or two friends.
This was a chief occasion for dialectics, cai-ried on often in
Socratic form. " When I waUi with Mr. Ward," said G. E.
Monoreiff (a son of Lord Moncreiff, the Scotch judge), "he
begins by stating a certain number of principles which are so
plain as to seem like truisms ; I agree to them one after
1 " He told, too, I recollect, of a man who used to thank God that he could
worship Him in the retirement of his closet and the privacy of his pew ; and of
another who used to repeat the Apostles' Creed with an alteration, ' I believe in
the Holy Protestant Church.' " D

34 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.
another, when suddenly he opens a trap-door and I find myself
landed in Eome."
Mr. Moncreiff tells me that rapidity and clearness of
inteUect were equally conspicuous in his official capacity as
mathematical lecturer. " For quickness and readiness of
resource," he writes, " for neat handling of analytical processes,
and for appreciative interest in his pupUs' endeavours to foUow
his lead, I have hardly ever known his equal. Let me add
the special merit that nothing in his hands remained duU ; his
characteristic humour found vent even over dry formulae or
complex analysis, so that one came away from mathematical
lecture with the feeling — not very usual in such a case — of
having spent an hour in genial intercourse with one who found
real pleasure in training us to clear and vigorous thought.
Out of lecture hours he was stUl more delightful. . . . There
was no more amusing companion to be found in Oxford. I
saw most of him in long walks, in which I may venture to
say there was hardly a silent moment. He talked almost >
incessantly on aU topics of the day — theology, politics, and
matters of University interest. His views on all points were
fresh and original, or at least if not strictly original, he had
made them his own by fearless and independent thought."
Mr. Thomas Mozley, in hig Reminiscences of the Oxford
Movement, recounts his own impressions of intercourse with Mr.
Ward :—
" From the time," he writes, " when Ward rolled in to a break
fast party at Christie's a few days after his coming up to Oxford
till my occasionally coming across him in town, I never had much
to call conversation with him, nor could it ever have been of the
slightest use. He was a vast deal too sharp for me. I had a good
answer ready for him in time — that is half an hour too late,
Coming out of the old chapel in Margaret Street, I think about
1844, I found myself between him, Oakeley, and one or two others.;
We were soon in the thick of the great question. How we arrived
at the particular point I know not, but I adduced it as an argument
against the system before us, as that in Eoman Catholic countries,
bandits went out on their expeditions fortified with prayers to the
Madonna, and with her pictures or her medals suspended from their
necks. Ward promptly replied, 'Catch two murderers or two
thieves and search them. One has nothing about him but his
weapons, the other has a Madonna tied to his neck. Which ^1
there the most hope of? There is no ground of hope for on^f

LIFE AT OXFORD 35

there is some ground of hope, something to work upon, in the
other.' " Of course I might have replied that one knew nothing about
the first, but that as to the second, one knew that he had formulised
religion into a thing not merely worthless but even wicked, an aid to
robbery and murder. You were positively cut off from hope there.
Ward will no doubt have a reply ready to this should it ever meet
his eyes." Another point which his contemporaries speak of in his
conversation was his way of viewing himseK as a third person,
— of judging of his own character, gifts, and peculiarities, as
though he were an onlooker at his own Ufe. He was perfectly
conscious of his intellectual gifts, and considered that to ignore
thera would be as unreal and affected as to ignore the colour of
his hair ; but he did not care to dweU on them, and his greatest
enemies never accused him of vanity. He looked at his mind
just as he would look at some one else's. Purely inteUectual
.gifts seemed to him so inferior to high ethical quaUties, that he
' could scarcely understand intellectual vanity, and he was
always lamenting over and exaggerating the degree in which
he fell short of his own standard in self-discipline and piety.
He delighted, as Carlyle did, in superlatives and strong ex
pressions, and a character or a thing was with him either
" noble " or " detestable," a tendency " indefinitely important
for good " or " deplorable," a view " transcendently able, and
throwing a flood of wholly unexpected hght '' on the subject, or
" morally base and intellectually contemptible." " InteUect,"
he said to Henry Wilberforce, " is a wretched gift, my dear
Henry. Absolutely worthless. Now my intellect is in some
respects almost infinite, and yet I don't value it a bit." On
the other hand, he would speak iu unmeasured terms of his
moral defects. " If I know anything at all of myself," he once
wrote, " I should say that whether or not I be considered to
rate too highly my intellectual powers (am imputation on
which I am not in the least sensitive), at aU events as to
my moral quaUties, I am in some considerable measure
impressed with a knowledge of my deplorable deficiency." Long
vocal prayers or discourses tried him, and he was equally
candid in his confessions on this branch of his religious short
comings. " A sermon bores me to death," he would say, " but
I always was a most disedifying man." He used to teU of

36 LIFE AT OXFORD ci
the preternatural sagacity and foresight of a certain baby as
the tortures in store for it, because having during the christ
ing ceremony remained perfectly quiet, when the clergyn
got to the words addressed to the godfather and godmotl
" And that he may know these things the better ye shall (
upon him to hear sermons," it forthwith set up a howl so Ic
that the ceremony coiUd not continue for some time.
Another instance of his way of viewing himself as thoi
he was an onlooker at his own life was the enjoyment he 1
in stories against himself He would detaU, with his us
exaggeration, the impression which some of his peculiarit
produced at first sight on those who had never met him
conversed with him. His eldest sister, who lived at Oxfc
was very handsome and universally liked, and he woi
describe how he overheard one who had met them for 1
first time say, " That charming, graceful Miss Ward ; I "v
delighted with her. How does she come to have such a hi
awkward-looking brother ? " or again how Jenkyns on readi
his book. The Ideal of a Christian Church, said, " Well, Wa
your book is like yourself, fat, awkward, and ungainly."
It has been said that he either took to a particular stu
with passionate eagerness and mastered it completely,
declared that it bored him to death, and that he would hs
nothiug to do with it. Mr. Wynell Mayow describes 1
great amusement Ward created among the committee of I
Union, when, after some splendid speeches deUvered by h
on Lord John EusseU's Eeform BUI, it was suggested tl
he should lead the debate on some question of pohti
economy with which he was not famiUar, at the blunt empha
with which he refused. " I know nothing whatever of 1
subject. Quite out of my line. I'm far too stupid in si;
matters to be of the slightest use." And whUe in a simi
spirit he absolutely refused to go through aU the work necessi
for a first-class degree in classics and mathematics, he devoui
with the utmost avidity the works of Bentham, John M
Carlyle, Macaulay's Essays as they appeared, every novel gc
and bad which was published, but above all the works of M
Austen, which he read again and again, and great portions
which he knew by heart. When a new book or article
interest appeared he " threw himself upon it," as one of

LIFE AT OXFORD 37

contemporaries expresses it. An article by MiU in the London
Beview, or Tait's Magazine, or such a work as Froude's Bemains,
was devoured by him with the utmost rapidity. Every point
was marked, and a note taken of it at the end of the book, and
he had the whole subject ready at once for detaUed discussion
with his friends. I have books of his hteraUy covered with
references and pencU marks. His great personal clumsiness
and incapacity for " dealing with matter " must not pass un
noticed in a description of his personal peculiarities. "His
want of manual dexterity," says a friend, " was in curious con
trast to his intellectual adroitness." There was a story of his
sending his scout to buy him a pencU, and, on receiving it,
complaining that it was a bad pencil and made no mark. The
scout looked at the pencil and then at his master, and re
marked, " You have not cut it, sir." To the end of his Ufe he
could never make up a parcel, and had the greatest difficulty
in fastening up a letter. He looked on the process as very
mysterious, and on the result of his endeavours as uncertain,
and generally asked a friend or his servant to do it for him.
In proceeding to speak of Ward's passion for music and the
drama, which was still greater at Oxford than in his school
days, it must be noted that the thoroughness with which he
entered into such recreations was due in a great measure to a
trial of which I have already spoken — and which his extreme
enjoyment of the pleasures of social intercourse made people slow
to suspect — the insupportable attacks of melancholy to which
he was subject. His constant ill-health for hours, and some
times for days, unfitted him for work, and left his abnormally
active and speculative mind preyhig upon itself. And as at
such times his intensity of temperament led to almost morbid
depression, the same intensity would make him seize en
thusiastically upon any means of escape from himself. He
fled from the perplexities and rehgious doubts which harassed
him at such times, and threw himself into any form of con
genial recreation with the utmost unreserve. With a keen
sense of the possibUities of happiness in life, and an equaUy
keen sense of the contrast between his own life and such
imagined possibUities, he loved to plunge for some hours into
an ideal world, and did so with zest and thoroughness.
Music and the drama were his great means of transporting

o

38 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.
liimself into this ideal world, and he availed himself of them con
stantly. The intensity of the relief corresponded to the intense
feelings of distress and ennui to which he was subject. The
play, the opera, the philharmonic concerts, the burlesques at
the Olympic, Macready's Shakespearian performances, were all
in request ; and he enjoyed them like a boy. He would give
also to his friends, with dramatic action and throwing himself
entirely into the situations, sketches of the various perform
ances of this kind which had attracted him. But in doing so
he was extremely sensitive to the character of his audience.
Always shy and reserved on first acquaintance with a stranger,
it was only in the midst of intimate friends and persons in com
plete touch and sympathy with his dramatic exhibitions, that he
was able to give them. But when he was thoroughly at home in
this respect, he unbent with a thoroughness and a dramatic
ilan in curious contrast to the abruptness and English down-
rightness of his manner on other occasions.
The foUowing letter to a very intimate friend gives some
indication of the Ul-health and depression to which I have
referred, and which cannot be passed over, as these trials were
in reaUty the key to much in his Ufe and character. It will
read strangely to those who scarcely ever saw him without a
smUe on his face, or talked with him for ten minutes without
hearing a hearty laugh.
Letter to a Friend. 1844.
..." My health has not been at all good these two days. In
fact I very much fear that I shall not be at all right in that respect ¦
until I shall have had a good long rest. My first day at Oxford
indeed is always a great trial . . . but I ought to have been able
to-day to do more than 1 have been able. . . . You rather wished
to hear about a day in Oxford, so 1 will describe to you yesterday ;
though you must remember that it must not be taken as an average
day. In the morning after breakfast I went to the reading-room
(as I told you I should) and read the papers ; there I met Forbes
(the friend of mine who told me that my character was so Italian),
and after a little talk vrith him 1 returned to my rooms and tried
to read a little of the new part of St. Athanasius which has just
come out. After a very little time I was obliged to give up the
attempt and the idea of doing anything serious before dinner ; ac
cordingly I resorted to a very common expedient of mine and
ordered dinner at three o'clock, hoping to have more power in the \

LIFE AT OXFORD 39

evening. I then got hold of a pamphlet which Stanley has been
writing (in MS. not yet to be published), and having to go for it to
Temple,^ one of our fellows (a very excellent and pleasant person),
I took the opportunity of engaging myself to walk with him
from two to three. I read through Stanley's pamphlet which
interested me a good deal, and then went up and caUed on the
Observer.^ He was in and was, as always, particularly cordial.
After leaving him I went in to Parker the bookseUer's to -wile away
the time till two, and then went out with Temple. At three I
dined in my rooms, and after dinner went to sleep ; on waking I
felt so much better that I flattered myself I should make a good
night's work of it, but was soon undeceived. I read Suarez for
about a quarter of an hour and recited Vespers ; then took a walk
in some university walks, reciting Compline, then at six I went to
evening chapel ; but after that, and having had tea, I found myseU,
alas ! quite unfitted for further exertion. J. Morris came in just
after tea and stayed for half an hour or so ; then I went down to
find MacmuUen,'* who was not in, and concluded with Stanley . . .
and so the day closed. I believe the fact to be that my brain
works almost incessantly at those times when I cannot work
steadily at all ; and that the amount of thought which passes
through my mind in the day is part of the reason why I can read
so little. It is a great misfortune that I have so little taste for
beauty of form, etc., as that would be a wonderful resource for
me. ... I won't go through to-day's employments in a similar
way, but may as well mention that during part of to-day I was ex
posed to one of my very worst fits of listlessness and incapacity for
exertion. At such times prayer seems just as impossible as
methodical reading. ... It is a long time since I have been so
much tried in that way as to-day. ... I shook it off at last (when
it got a little better) by forcing myself, most distressingly against
the grain, to recite some of to-day's office (it is singularly beauti
ful; you will see it in the ' Supplementum Novum,' it is a com
memoration of our Lord's prayer in the garden) and then went out
to fulfil an engagement I made yesterday of walking for an hour
with the Observer. The remains, however, of the attack is even
to this minute upon me, and will not in fact go off except by a
good night's rest, which I hope in all probability to have."
The musical seances with his friends, which formed one of
his chief modes of escape from this depression and weariness,
were varied in character. Sometimes Coffin, afterwards
Bishop of Southwark, used to play, and Ward, who had a mag-
1 Now Bishop of London.
2 Mr. Manuel Johnson— known as "Observer" Johnson.
' R. G. Maomullen — one of tho Tractarian converts, now Canon MacmuUen.

40 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.
nificent voice, would go right through some of the best arias in
Mozart's and Eossini's operas, in true dramatic style, before a
select audience. " Non piu andrai," from the Nozzc di Figaro,
and the rapid buffo song, "Largo al factotum," from the
Barhiere, were among those most frequently chosen. An equaUy
favourite form of amusement was to sketch a hallet d'action
on some event of university interest ; Mr. MacmuUen's dispute
with the Eegius professor, Dr. Fausset's attack on Dr. Pusey,
or Ward's own relations with the Master of BaUiol, were repre
sented in this way. Dr. Jenkyns of BaUiol was an especiaUy
favourite character in these performances, and Mr. Ward would
send his company into fits of laughter by a combined imitation
of the pecuharities of the master's manner, and the received
movements of the ballerina — the pirouette and the various
forms of step, fast and slow, and the pantomimic expression of
wrath, pleasure, or amazement, as each was called for, according
to the recognised rules of the hallet d'action. Ward woidd
represent each character in turn, while Coffin or Oakeley
played the pianoforte. The contrast between these perform
ances and his more normal occupation of deep discussion on
rehgious metaphysics, was startling. "It is just as though
Thomas Aquinas were to dance a baUet," one of his friends
said. On one of these occasions the performance was more
vigorous than usual, and Ward was for the moment imper
sonating Cupid. Mr. Chapman, one of the tutors, was unable
to continue his reading in the room below, and sent his scout
to ascertain the cause of the disturbance. The scout came
back with the assurance, "It's honly Mr. Ward, sir. 'E's a
hacting of a cherubym."
After he had joined the Newmanites he considerably cur
taUed the amount of dramatic and musical recreation he
aUowed himself. He never entered a theatre at all for eleven
years, and in Lent by Dr. Pusey's advice, as the ordinary
corporal austerities injured his health, he made it a rule to
forego all music whatever. One Lent when three weeks had
passed in this way he met Coffin in the High Street and said,
"I have such an awful fit of depression that I feel as if I
should go out of my mind.; don't you think that a Uttle music
for once may be aUowed ? " After some discussion it was
agreed that a Uttle strictly sacred music might pass. Begin-

II LIFE AT OXFORD 41
ning with Cherubini's " 0 Salutaris " they graduaUy passed to
" Possenti Numi " in the " Flauto Magico." ' But this opened a
hook containing songs somewhat lighter, and the duet between
Papageno and Papagena followed. The music waxed faster
and livelier till it culminated in "Largo al factotum," the
lightest and raciest of buffo songs, in the middle of which one
of the company suddenly recollected that the room in Christ
Church in which he was singing was separated only by a thin
wall from Dr. Pusey's own rooms.
The present Bishop of London, Dr. Temple, gives some
characteristic recollections of his first conversation with Mr..
Ward, when his taste for music and the drama revealed itself
under circumstances in which this was least to be looked for.
Mr. Temple had just come up to Oxford as a young under
graduate, and being considerably ahead of his contemporaries
in mathematical studies, arranged to be coached privately by
Ward. The tutor gave him various exercises to work out to
test his knowledge, and these were brought to Mr. Ward at
the appointed hour for revision and correction. Mr. Ward
received him with all kindness, and at once looked through
the exercises, correcting them, the Bishop says, with " extra
ordinary rapidity," showing here and there easier methods,
noting interesting mathematical points in the various possible
solutions. For a quarter of an hour or so the mathematical
work went on at highest pressure and without intermission,
and fresh exercises were set for next time. Then Mr. Ward
got up and stood with his back to the fire, and somewhat to
his pupil's surprise asked abruptly, " Have you been to London
lately ? " and then proceeded, " you should go to the Olympic
and see ' Olympic Devils,' by Planchi^, it is quite as good as or
better than ' Olympic Eevels.' I saw the piece last week."
And forthwith the grave mathematical tutor commenced giving
an accurate and dramatic sketch of the plot of the burlesque.
The symposia of the gods in Olympus were graphicaUy
described, and Planchd's amusing rhymes repeated with great
gusto and perfect accuracy. For example, the chorus of gods
at dinner to the tune of " The roast beef of old England : "
" If mortals who cannot exist upon air
Could see us at dinner, ye gods, how they'd stare ;
See us hydrogen quaff and on oxygen fare,

42 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.
• Singing, ' Oh, the roast beef of Olympus,
And oh, the Olympic roast beef.' "
Or again, Orpheus' monologue tn Tartarus in which he
remarks :
" 'Tis said that marriages are made above,
And so perhaps a few may be by love ;
But from this smell of brimstone 1 should say.
They must be making matches here all day."
The whole play was gone through, the songs and dances
indicated, the merits of Madame Vestris as Orpheus dis
cussed, and the pecuharities of Mr. Bland as Pluto, of the
three Miss Irelands as the three Fates. The whole caste
was remembered down to the most unimportant " super."
Temple, having got over his first surprise, was much interested ;
and thenceforth the hour set apart for his private coaching
was about equaUy divided between algebra or the differential
Calculus, and conversation, sometimes on the drama or opera,
but later on, as Ward attached himself to the fortunes of the
Tractarian party, more often on theology and the prospects of
the Church of England.
The intensity of Ward's interest aUke in these grave
subjects and in the drama, or again in the dramatic aspect of
human Ufe, and the effect on those who met him of so unusual
a combination, has been sketched with graphic power in
a letter to myself, which the writer — the present Dean of St.
Paul's — ^has kindly aUowed me to publish. The Dean writes
as follows : —
" I wish I could do justice to that singular and almost unique
combination in your father of the utmost abandon and readiness for
amusement, with deep seriousness and reality of feeling and pur
pose, and with the dignity which such reahty gave. He was what
appeared to many as Quixotic as any Puritan in his inflexible and
inexorable demands for instant submission to the logical results of
a principle, or an acknowledged rule or discovery of conscience.
A Puritan with this tone and temper of mind becomes stiff, intract
able, severe, unable to endure to see other people steering a
different course from himself, impatient, censorious, Svo-koAos.
There were good men connected with the party of which your
father was one of the chiefs, of whom something of this kind might
have been said. But though he was quite capable of severity of

LIFE AT OXFORD 43

judgment and of indignation, his view of the largeness and variety
of things, and characters, and ways, was so quick and comprehen
sive, that he saw, what other severe thinkers did not see, the mani
fold play of human life, with all that is pathetic and all that is odd
about it, and he was as much interested and captivated by this as
he was with his intellectual problems. The zest of one was as
great as the zest of the other ; both equally great in their season.
And so it came to pass that there were many hours when he was
as unembarrassed as a schoolboy let loose in his enjoyment of the
company of his friends, and in doing his best to keep up the ball of
conversation, and to amuse them with his own powers of presenting
the comic side of things, in caricature, in anecdote, in taking off
dramatic scenes and singing parts from Mozart's or Eossini's
operas. Where I used to see all this most was at the observatory
at Mr. Manuel Johnson's dinner table. A small number of friends
used to meet there continually, very often on Sundays. Mr.
Johnson was a man in whom high scientific enthusiasm was combined
with the warmest affection and boundless sense of humour. His
laugh was a thing to inspire and brighten up the most doleful of
pessimists. And there your father was very welcome and was con
tinually a guest. Everything was discussed — London politics,
foreign revolutions, Oxford theology, and the wickedness of
Hebdomadal boards ; and along with these high subjects Mr.
Johnson's last purchase of a curious book or a rare engraving,
theories and ideals of art, the sentiment of the Diisseldorf school,
all with a running comment of chaff and illustration — the judgments
of those who understood or thought they understood, the flings and
gibes of those who didn't, interrupted by explosions from the
mighty laughers,^ and varied by interludes in which your father
would give with real musical effect a dialogue from co&i fan tutte, or
act a despairing lover on his knees to an extemporised Donna
Elvira represented by some grave college tutor, driven into fits by
the grotesqueness of the situation. Of course this was only among
friends. In general company he was only gay and serene, very
cordial and accessible, and always provoked by the presence of
•some supposed hostile member of the company to be personally
most courteous and sympathetic, but also on occasion to startle him
with what sounded like an astounding paradox."
One more anecdote may be related Ulustrative of Mr.
Ward's abandon on certain occasions of university social Ufe.
The present Bishop of London, then FeUow of BaUiol, who
told me the story, had organised a party at BaUiol, in the
summer of 1844, including besides many Fellows from various
I It used to be said that when Johnson and Ward laughed together in the
observatory the sound could be heard at St. Giles'.

44 LIFE AT OXFORD chap.
coUeges, a contingent of their lady friends who were staying
Oxford. Mr. Temple had for a time some difficulty in pe
suading Mr. Ward to join. There was to be music, ai
possibly dancing ; and he thought that the master would ni
approve of what was, to some extent, a novel experimer
However, after talking the matter over, he came to the conch
sion that he might, without scruple, join the party. He wa
says Bishop Temple, even for him in wonderful force ar
spirits. He was the life of the conversation, full of anecdot
of repartee, of amusing comment on everybody and everythin
The troubles of theological disputes and the persecutions
the Hebdomadal board were aU forgotten. If it was lawful i
join the party, it was certainly lawful to enjoy it thoroughl
Every one was talking with admiration of his singing, h
conversation, his unflagging powers of enjoyment and (
amusing his friends. The evening, which had begun with tl
careful and severe examination of the lawfulness of tl
recreation, with the adjustment of principles of conscience, an
the weighing of different claims of duty, ended, as he walke
home with Temple, with hearty and enthusiastic expressioi
of satisfaction. " My dear Temple, what a delightful eveniii
— one of the pleasantest I ever spent ; and what charmir
ladies — I could have proposed to any one of them on tl
spot ! "

CHAPTEE III
THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT
It wUl be impossible to understand the early phases of Mr.
Ward's intellectual life at Oxford, without bearing in mind
some of the salient features of the condition of English thought
iu the early part of this century. It was essentiaUy a time
of intellectual activity and moral earnestness. Both in " feel
ing and speculation " the first half of the nineteenth centuiy
bore the impress, in the words of Dean Stanley, " of the
deeper seriousness breathed into the minds of men, not only
in England but in Europe, by the great convulsion of the
French Eevolution." ^ When, after Waterloo, the immediate
strain of international war was removed, the mind of the age,
thoroughly awakened and aroused, sought in various directions
objects whereon to vent its energy. The consequence was a
series of movements political, rehgious, philosophical, the re
sults of which are visible to this day. " In Germany," continues
Dean Stanley, " there was the manifestation of such men as
Gorres on the Eoman side and of Schleiermacher on the
Protestant side. In France the same tendency appeared
in Madame de Stael and Chateaubriand, as weU as in the
historical and phUosophical researches of the school of Guizot
and of Cousin. In England it revealed itself in the enterprise
of the abolitionists and iu WUberforce's ' Practical Christianity.'
In Scotland it was manifested by three writers, if of unequal
fame yet all in their several ways representing the enlarged
relations of the human mind to literature and rehgion, — Walter
Scott first and foremost, and foUowing upon him the most
1 See Edinburgh Review for April 1881, Article I., "The Oxford School."

46 THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT chap.
eloquent preacher of that time, Edward Irving, and the sombre
genius of Thomas Carlyle."
In matters purely political, too, the time of the CathoUc
Emancipation, of the French Eevolution of July 1830, and
of the first Eeform Bill, was a sufficiently stirring one ; while,
in the Enghsh theological world, the Evangelical movement in
augurated by Charles Simeon at Cambridge, the Latitudinarian
school represented by Arnold and Whately, and above aU the
CathoUc revival within the Church of England, — with its far-
reaching effects both on the Anghcan Church and on the Cathohc
Church in England, — are instances of unusual and significant
activity. Three of these numerous streams of life came, at one time
or another, into immediate contact with Mr. Ward, and it may
be well to say a few words as to their origin, and their con
nection with each other. I speak of the movement — partly
political, partly phUosophical, partly theological (or anti-
theological) — of Bentham and the two Mills ; of the teaching,
ethical and theological, of Arnold and Whately, the precursors
of' the Broad Church school ; and of the directly theological
school of Newman and Pusey.
The radical school of the two MUls was, in reality, the
steady onflow of the movement which had come to a premature
and only partially successful crisis in the great French Eevolu
tion. The aims of the Eevolution were avowedly the aims of
its members, though they advocated greater moderation in their
methods. John Mill, who in spite of his youth was the most
prominent of the party, has told us of the feeling of joy with
which he first realised what had been achieved for a time in
France, at the close of the last century. " From this time," he
writes, " the subject took an immense hold of my feehngs. It
allied itself with aU my juvenUe aspirations to the character of
a democratic champion. What had happened so lately seemed
as if it might easUy happen again : and the most transcendent
glory I was capable of conceiving was that of figuring, success
ful or imsuccessful, as a Girondist in an English Convention,"
When Walter Scott pubhshed his Lffe of Napoleon, MUI came
forward as the champion of the Eevolution against his attacks ;
and Carlyle's great work owed much to the same writer's
copious notes on the subject. When the Eevolution of July

Ill THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT 47
1830 came, MUI tells us that it " aroused his utmost enthusiasm,
and gave him, as it were, a new existence." He paid a visit
to Paris, which recaUs the visit paid forty years earUer by the
author of the Bights of Man, and was introduced to Lafayette.
From that' time onward he kept up a certain measure of inter
course with the chiefs of the popular party in France.-'
Such being the avowed sympathies of the radical school,
their influence on English politics and English thought wUl be
readUy understood. The indignant revolt of the French
Eevolution against the claims of custom and prescription was
developed by them into a political and phUosophical system.
By reaction against the tyranny and injustice which the old
order had sanctioned in its exaggeration of such claims, they
endeavoured to sweep away bodUy the inherent sacredness of
constituted authority, and to make light of the sanctions of
inherited experience, and to reconstitute the world of politics
and of thought from new first principles. In pohtics they
advocated the most entirely representative government with
the ultimate goal of manhood suffrage (or, according to the
most advanced, universal suffrage), and absolute Uberty of
discussion. In philosophy, the principle of the "greatest
happiness of the greatest number " was their watchword, whUe
they waged unrelenting warfare against the authority of
instinct, sentiment, and intuition — with little distinction
between the various ways in which these phrases are used.
In Ethics general happiness, in Psychology personal experience,
were the tests to be appUed for genuine virtue and genuine
knowledge ; and these tenets were the more definite and clear
from the fact that the later conception of the authority of
instinct, as representing the past experiences of the race, had
not arisen to confuse the Une of demarcation between the
" Experience " and Intuitive schools.
The Westminster Beview (succeeded afterwards by the
London B.eview) was the organ of the cUque I am now speak-
in" of ; and their special views influenced many of the rising
generation — notably at Cambridge, where the briUiant con
versational powers of Charles Austin powerfuUy assisted in
their dissemination. The Beview made its first appearance in
1824. Mr. Bentham was its proprietor, and Grote the
1 See Mill's Autobiography, pp. 172 seq.

48 THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT chap,
historian, the two MiUs, and the two Austins, Charles and
John, were among the contributors. Eeform of the constitu
tion, Benthamism in philosophy, Eeform of the Law, and
Eeform of the Church, were perseveringly advocated.
These writers were, perhaps, the most active and zealous
propagandists of their day in public matters, until the success
of the Eeform Bill in 1832 aroused forces on the opposite side,
real and powerful, though hitherto slumbering. My concern
with these forces here is mainly on the side connected with
rehgious and ecclesiastical affairs. Immediately on the passing
of the Eeform BUI a general attack seemed imminent on the
sacredness of tradition in every shape. The men who despised
tradition in phUosophy as unauthorised sentiment, who waged
war against the old-fashioned deification of the English con
stitution and the English law, now meditated a blow at the
historical ordinances and institutions of the English Church.
The Church, Uke the State, was to be dealt with on utUitarian
and radical principles. Her position, too, was to be defined,
in aU consistency of logic, as the servant of the State. The
indefinite views afloat as to the nature of the Anglican Church,
as, on the one hand, a political body of Christians, whose govern
ment and discipline were in the hands of the State, or, on the
other, the direct successor, independent in essentials, of the
Church of the Apostles, from whom her pastors held their
commission and inherited their prerogatives, were to be cleared
up in favour of the former and to the exclusion of the latter.
It was reported that Parliamentary committees were to revise
the Prayer Book and remodel the Creeds. A measure was in
progress for suppression by Act of Parliament of ten Irish
Bishoprics. The moving spirits of the triumphant faction were
opposed to the very existence of the Church. "Next to an
aristocracy," writes John Mill, "an EstabUshed Church or
corporation of priests, as being by position the great depravers
of rehgion, and interested in opposing the progress of the
human mind, was the object of [my father's] greatest detesta
tion." The younger MUI himself in 1832 addressed himself
to the direct consideration of the rights of the State over
church property; and there were serious fears afloat that
Church Eeform might end in the actual abolition of the
estabUshment.

Ill THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT 49
In this state of things, whUe the authorities of the
English Church remained powerless and inert, there arose
from the eager and earnest thinkers of all schools a vehe
ment protest on one hand or the other. The war was pro
aris et focis, and sides had to be taken for or against the
revolution. " The whole fabric of English, and, indeed, of
European society," writes Mr. Mozley, " was trembhng to
its foundations. Every party, every interest, pohtical or
rehgious, in this country, was pushing its claims to universal
acceptance, with the single exception of the Church of England,
which was folding its robes to die with what dignity it
could. ... At such a time, when a thousand projectors
were screaming from a thousand platforms, when all England
was dinned with philanthropy and revolution, spirituality and
reform, when the scissors and paste-pot were everywhere at
work on the Prayer Book, when Whately was preparing to
walk quietly over ten Churches in Ireland, and Arnold was
confidently hoping to surpass Bunsen's scheme of universal
comprehension in England, Newman was laboriously working
his way into the hitherto unvisited region of patristic theology."
Two deeply earnest movements within the English Church
came before the world in the midst of this general upheaval,
represented by two great names, Arnold and Newman. Dr.
Arnold had been appointed headmaster of Eugby in 1828, and
rapidly commenced the formation of what may justly be caUed
a dis'tinct school of thought. He inherited from the first Oriel
schopl, of which he was a member — the school of Milman
and Whately — some of the characteristics of his teaching — its
sincerity and reality, its contempt for formalism, its disregard
for dogma as such ; but he added both in tone of mind and in
the views he advocated much which was distinctively his own.'
He united with MUman and Whately, indeed, m their strong
opposition to sacramentalism and to sacerdotalism, but on the
relations between Church and State and on Church reform they
differed widely; and the Christian enthusiasm which Arnold
breathed into his disciples bore little resemblance to the cold and
I The Dean of St. Paul's, in a convei-sation which he kindly allowed me to
have with him on the subject, attributed much of the ethical tone in Arnold, which
distinguishes him from the Noetic school of Whately, to the influence of J.
Keble, who was his contemporary at Oriel. E

so THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT chap.
common-sense religion of the celebrated Archbishop of Dublin.
In 1832, alarmed at the prospect of Disestabhshment, Arnold
published his pamphlet on Church Eeform. This pubhcation
cannot be said to have produced any lasting effect by itself
The actual scheme advocated was simUar in kind to the pro
posal of Dr. Martineau in our own time, though less extended
in degree. It proposed the sinking of dogmatic differences,
and the inclusion of the Dissenters within the pale of the
State Church. In short, he looked to a closer and more
acknowledged union between religion and the State for a
remedy for existhig evils. The ideal aim was absolute
identity between Church and State, as combining the highest
principles with the most absolute power. And to approach
nearer to this ideal he proposed extending State control to all
the most earnest Christianity in the land, which would in turn
react upon and purify the State. The conception was ob
viously Utopian ; but Arnold's influence in breathing life uito
the decaying Establishment was undoubtedly considerable.
The young men who went up to Oxford full of his spirit were
the representatives of a living religion which had effects far
more significant than Arnold's paper theory. They put fresh
life into the Liberal party at Oxford, and gave it real influence.
" The [Liberal] party grew all the time I was in Oxford even
in numbers,'' writes Cardinal Newman, " certainly in breadth
and definiteness of doctrine and in power. And, what was a
far higher consideration, by the accession of Dr. Arnold's pupils
it was invested with an elevation of character which claimed
the respect even of its opponents."
IntellectuaUy, however, the system of Dr. Arnold was from
the first a compromise. The Oriel school, to which he belonged
— the Noetics, as they were caUed — had to a great extent
imbibed the radical and destructive principles of the school of
MUI " This knot of Oriel men," says Mr. Mark Pattison, " was
distinctly the product of the French Eevolution. They caUed
everything in question ; they appealed to first principles, and
disallowed authority as a judge in intellectual matters." ' StiU
though bitten with the new spirit they shrank from the anarchy
alike of thought and of society to which these principles must
legitimately lead. They held their full development in check
' See Mark Pattison's Memoirs, p. 79.

ill THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT 51
rather by common-sense than by any clearly-defined logical
theory. LogicaUy speaking, Arnold was open to the stinging
charge which James MUI made on the Edinburgh Beview and on
the WTiigs generally, of shilly-shaUying and inconsistency. In
the case of the Whig party there was the tradition of popiUar
principles, and in Arnold's case there were inborn popular
sympathies; and whUe Mill could with truth describe the
Whigs as " an aristocratic party . . . coquetting with popular
principles for the sake of popular support," ^ and as neverthe
less carrying these principles only so far as was consistent
with no " essential sacrifice of aristocratical predominance," the
same thing might be said of Arnold, though without the
suspicion of interested motives. He valued the aristocratic
elements in the English constitution, and instinctively shrank
from carrying the popular principles he advocated so far as
to overthrow them ; and, accordingly, he avowed ^ that he
welcomed the Eeform Bill mainly as a compromise, as granting
to the people what, if withheld, might make them eventually
clamour for more. And more could not, he thought, with
safety be given.
In theology, too, his instinctive common sense exercised a
simUar check on his principles. He refused to admit Unitarians
into his enlarged Church, and insisted on the vital importance
of behef in Christ's Divinity, though it would be difficult to
defend this position logically according to his theory of Scripture
interpretation. The logical results of a system are not always evident in
those who first adopt it, while yet under the influence of early
beliefs which may not be a part of the system itself Thus it
has often been said that the effects of Agnosticism will only
be reaUy known experimentally when we have a school of
hereditary Agnostics. If this be so it is significant of the
real tendencies of Arnold's teaching that it should have passed,
by hneal descent, through the Essays and Bevieios, issuing in
the intellectual positions advocated severaUy by Dean Stanley,
Professor Jowett, and Matthew Arnold.
The third wave of thought of which I am to speak, which
was visible in the movement known as Tractarian or the
Oxford Movement par excellence, began in the same general
^ J. S. Mill's Autobiography, pp. 93 seq. ' Arnold's Life, vol. i. p. 266.

52 THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT chap.
fear for the safety of the Establishment which provoked Arnold
to write his pamphlet on Church Eeform; but it embodied
very different tendencies frora those of Arnold's school, and,
indeed, was, in some respects, more directly opposed to the
latitudinarian theology of that school, than to the general hberal
movement which first brought it into existence. The two
schools parted company at the very outset, though the object
of each was to protect the interests of the Church of England.
The danger in Arnold's view lay in Disestablishment — in a
tyranny of State over Church which should culminate in con
fiscation of her land, and the destruction of what was according
to his theory the essence of her organisation — her legal union
with the civU power. In such a state of things each Christian
sect would be free of State control, independent of other sects,
and on a footing of equality, and the one form of religious unity
which he valued would be destroyed. The remedy in his eyes
was to sink doctrinal differences with a view to strengthening
the Estabhshment in numbers and religious zeal, that it might
present the obstacles of inherent vitality and of strength and
compactness of organisation, to the schemes for its destruction.
He even appealed to the High Church party to make common
cause with him for this end. The party of the Movement,
on the other hand, from the first declared war against the
Erastianism of the State. To them the essence of the English
Church was that side of her, not which was dependent on,
but which was independent of State control. That Acts of
ParUament should suppress or establish bishoprics, or that
Parhamentary Committees should reform the Prayer Book,
was an intolerable invasion of her rights. She was, before all
things, the hneal descendant of the Church of Gregory and
Augustine, and through them of the Church of the Apostles.
Hence the authority of her bishops ; hence the sacredness of
her formularies. Her dependence on the State was only
partial and accidental — partial, as regarding only her civil
rights and position, and accidental, as dating only from the
Eeformation. In short, while Arnold viewed the Church as
essentiaUy a Protestant Estabhshment, the " Movement " viewed
her as essentiaUy stUl a part of the Church Cathohc, and com
plete dependence on the State,. which was to the one party her
ideal perfection, was in the eyes of the other, as abolishing the

Ill THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT 53
inherent sacredness and authority of Apostohc institutions, her
absolute destruction.
So much as this may be said in contrasting the Movement
of 1833 at its outset, and considered in aU its heterogeneous
elements, with the liberal school in theology. But at a very
early date that part of the Oxford school which gave it its
life and influence took a Une yet more marked in its
divergence from Arnold's school, and pregnant with conse
quences at the time unforeseen. At starting the Movement,
though I cannot accept Dean Stanley's description of it as a
"political reaction against the panic which the Eeform BiU
created," ^ was certainly eminently practical. It opposed in
novations in the constitution of the Church — the invasion of
the apostolical prerogatives of the bishops, the admission of
Unitarian principles within her pale. Its birthday was the day
of Keble's sermon on the "National Apostasy," preached in
protest against the suppression of the Irish sees. In this
practical movement men like Mr. Palmer (afterwards Sh
William Palmer), the author of the Treatise on the Church, Dr.
Hook, afterwards Dean of Chichester, and Mr. Perceval, the
learned Eector of East Horsley, were as eager participators as
Newman, HurreU Froude, and Keble. But the views of these
last were far deeper than Mr. Palmer's, and extended much
beyond meeting a practical emergency. The contrast wiU
be evident in a moment to those who read Mr. Palmer's nar
rative of the Movement and Newman's Apologia. In one sense
it may be said that Mr. Palmer's party was conservative, whUe
Newman's was, though in a very different direction, as bent on
radical reform as were the Liberals themselves. Mr. Pahner
resented State interference with those elements of Catholicism
to which he had been accustomed, in the existing constitu
tion and formularies of the AngUcan Church. The specu
lative questions "whence" and "whither" did not concern
persons of his cast of mind. He drew out a definite scheme of
action for the Movement — a programme of objects to be aimed
at, and ways and means of mutual co-operation, for he looked
upou speculation and individuaUsm with suspicion.
With Newman and Froude the case was different. A living
idea had got hold of their minds,and theyseem themselves to have
I Edinburgh Beview, loc. eit.

54 THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT chap.
felt that they did not quite know whither it would ultimately
lead them. They opposed the definite schemes of action and
organised committees of Mr. Palmer, confident of the truth and
reahty of the views which possessed them, and mistrusting
premature definitions as stunting the natural and full develop
ment of Uving ideas in living minds.^ Early in the day New
man recognised that the work of a hundred and fifty years
had to be undone in the English Church, and advocated a
return to the Anglicanism of the seventeenth century ; ^ and
Froude's more rapid and outspoken temperament soon led him
to disown the Eeformation of the sixteenth. The conception
of the real nature of the English Church which led to such
judgments as these was the idea which more or less definitely
had got hold of a number of minds, and Newman's view in
starting the Tracts for the Times was that individuals who felt
strongly, should speak freely and in some sense irresponsibly —
that is to say, without committing the whole party to their
views, which were not to be regarded as final and full ex
pressions of a conception not yet fully analysed by the writers
themselves.^ " The Tracts were not intended," he wrote, " as
symbols ex cathedrd, but as the expression of individual minds ;
and individuals feeling strongly while, on the one hand, they
are incidentaUy 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 in
dividual. The very faults of an individual excite attention;
he loses, but his cause (if good and he powerful-minded) gains." *
The writers of the Tracts pursued their studies, each in his
own way, of the early Fathers and of the Anglican divines
of the seventeenth century — Hooker, Bull, Laud, BramhaU,
StUhngfleet — and each advocated, with a general agreement in
principle, though vrith minor differences among themselves, a
restoration of Catholic customs and doctrines which had become
^ Cf. Palmer's Narrative, Edition of 1883, pp. 56, 57.
^ See Tracts 38 and 41, published in the course of the first two years of the
Movement. ^ Besides the passage referred to in the text there are many others in Newman's
Apologia iUustrating this view, e.g. at p. 69. Again in p. 71 he writes "...
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."
* Apologia, p. 42 (Edition of 1875).

Ill THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT 55
obsolete since the Eevolution of 1688. The exact nature and
degree of the restoration contemplated by each might differ,
but the writers were agreed in their general spirit.
Early, then, in the Movement the really powerful stream
of thought which it contained separated itself, in some degree,
from the cut-and-dried scheme of Mr. Palmer and the conserva
tive High Churchmen, and turned itself in a direction whose
terminus was confessedly somewhat uncertain.^ The feeling
embodied in the beautiful stanzas of " Lead, kindly Light " —
" I do not ask to see the distant scene," and " One step enough
for me" — seem to have indicated what was from the first
Newman's view of the situation. Principles and ideals were
plain, but the nature of their practical outcome could not be
known, and time alone could disclose it. In 1836 Newman
made, in a series of lectures in St. Mary's, the first systematic
attempt to define publicly the theory of the AngUcan Church
which the Movement advocated, which he called the via media
between Protestantism and Popery. The lectures were entitled
" The Prophetical office of the Church, viewed relatively to
Eomanism and popular Protestantism." They professed to
explain the logical outcome of the Movement, but they did
not succeed. In their very form they were tentative. "It
still remains to be tried," he said, " whether the via media is
capable of being professed, acted on, and maintained on a large
sphere of action, or whether it be a mere modification or
transition stage of either Eomanism or popular Protestantism."
He owns in the Apologia that he had a latent feeling that his
mind had not found ultimate rest. The theory was a provisional
one, and the Movement had not reaUy explained itself. It
was advancing towards something, but its terminus was stiU
out of sight. Of this, however, I must speak later.
Principles and ideals, I have said, were plain, and this
brings us to the nature of that further opposition to the hberal
theology to which I have already referred. Newman and
Froude developed a distinctively phUosophical and inteUectual
element in a movement which had hitherto been primarily
' I do not mean by this to imply, what a friend who has seen this passage in
proof seems to think it implies, that the Ratnim movement came early. Keble,
aa well as Newman, represented the "powerful stream" to which I refer; and
the uncertainty did not necessarily imply a doubt that the terminus was some
thing consistent with the Anglican formulai-ies.

56 THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT chap.
practical ; and as the High Church party had consistently
opposed the Erastianism of Arnold's practical schemes of
Church reform, so the intellectual direction of the Oxford
school was opposed to the principles of liberaUsm. The sacred
ness of tradition and the authority of the religious instincts lay
at the root of Newman's philosophy, and this was the re-asser
tion of principles which Arnold had gone far with the Eadicals
in destroying. Again, the watchword of Newman was Dogma ;
the watchword of Arnold was the " anti-dogmatic principle."
In Newman's view dogma was of the essence of religion, and
certain particular dogmas of the essence of the Anglican
Church. The Liberals, though differing among each other in the
extent to which they applied their principles, disparaged dogma
as unconnected with moral goodness, and maintained toleration
of dogmatic differences to be a part of Christian charity. "A
visible Church with sacraraents and rites, which are the
channels of Invisible grace," ^ an episcopal dynasty descended
from the Apostles, an obUgatory body of doctrine, to be found
in Scripture, but only recognised there by the aid of Church
tradition — these are the essential features of Newman's via
media. The liberal school, on the contrary, denounced the
priesthood as an invasion of Christian equality, the fulness of
the sacraraental ideal as a species of superstition ; some, as
Hampden, openly maintained the dogma of the Incarnation to
be a theological opinion and unessential to the " simple rehgion
of Christ;"^ others, as Arnold, treated the CathoUc doctrine of
a visible church as inconsistent with the position of an Enghsh
Churchinan. Each party had standing and influence at Oxford in 1834,
and as they were opposed in principles, so each viewed the
other's increasing influence with dismay. When Dr. Hamp
den sent his pamphlet on Beligious Dissent to Newman, the
^ Apologia, p. 49.
" My citation is from the Apologia, p. 57. As Newman has been accused of
unfairness in his account I add the following extracts. Dr. Hampden asks the
Unitarian "whether it is not theological dogmatism and not religious belief pro
perly so called which constitutes the principle of his dissent," and states that he
"cannot for [his] part deny to [Unitarians] the name of Christians." He
further commits himself to the statement that "Theological opinion as necessarily
mixed up with speculative knowledge ought not to be the bond of union of any
Christian society, or a mark of discrimination between Christian and Christian."
Observations on Religious Dissent, by Hampden. Second edition, pp. 20, 21, 22.

Ill THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT 57
latter wrote, " 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 :" and Arnold characterised the aims of the Movement, in
terms yet more bitter and far more contemptuous, as " a dress, a
ritual, a name, a ceremony, a technical phraseology — the super
stition of a priesthood without its power, the form of episcopal
government without its substance, a system imperfect and para
lysed, not independent, not sovereign, afraid to cast off the
subjection against which it was perpetually murmuring — objects
so pitiful, that if gained ever so completely they would make
no man the wiser, or the better ; they would lead to no good,
intellectual, moral, or spiritual." The opposition between the
two parties was from 1836 — when the case of Dr. Hampden
was brought before the University — onwards even more inces
sant and active. The Liberals maintained that the Puseyites
would ruin the Church of England as a National Church ; and
that the logical outcome of their tenets was Popery ; and in
actual Popery, Arnold prophesied in 1836, the Movement must
end. The Puseyites declared that Liberalism would ruin the
Church of England as an apostohc church, that its logical out
come was free-thought, and that in actual infidehty it must
some day issue.
Each party was conscious of its devotion to the EngUsh
Church, and each strenuously denied the truth of the auguries
of the other as to its tendency and destination. So Uttle did
the leading Newmanites believe that they were furthering
the interests of Popery, that one of their avowed objects
was to check its growth in England. They were to put
new life into the Catholic doctrines imphed by the EngUsh
liturgy — doctrines which had practically become a dead letter
— and were thereby to give the Church new vitality and unity.
"Nothing but these neglected doctrines, faithfuUy preached,"
wrote the editor of the Tracts in 1834, "wiU repress that ex
tension of Popery for which the ever-multiplying divisions of
the religious world are too clearly preparing the way ;" and
again he writes, " Methodism and Popery are in different ways
the refuge of those whom the Churcli stints of the gifts of
grace ; they are the foster-mothers of abandoned chUdren. The
neglect of the daily service, the Eucharist scantUy administered.

58 THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT chap.
insubordination permitted in aU ranks of the Church, orders
and offices imperfectly developed, the want of societies for par
ticular rehgious objects, and the like deficiencies, lead the
feverish mind, desirous of a vent to its feehngs, and a stricter
rule of hfe, to the smaUer religious communities, to prayer and
bible meetings, and Ul-advised institutions and societies, on the
one hand ; on the other, to the solemn and captivating services
by which Popery gains its proselytes." The Movement thus
professed to be directly anti-papal, as Arnold's views on Church
reform professed to be especiaUy directed against the success
of the irreligious Eadicals. The Newmanites proposed to
inoculate the Church with a Uttle Popery, the Arnoldites to
inoculate it with a Uttle liberalism, as the best safeguard
against these diseases in their malignant form. Both parties
were represented most prominently by men with great personal
attachment to the Anglican Church and great regard for God's
glory. The steady and resistless march of inteUectual prin
ciples in both cases to their legitimate issue is the more
remarkable. Arnold saw truly when he said in 1836 of the
outcome of the " Movement," " It wiU not take the form New
man wishes, but its far more natural and consistent form of
pure Popery ;" ^ and Newman's account of the tendency of
UberaUsm " to make shipwreck of Christian faith " may claim
to have been prophetic. At least the one side can point to
the conversions of 1845, whUe the other may appeal to the
association of the name of Arnold in our own day with a behef
concerning the Supreme Being differing little in its essence
frora Mr. Herbert Spencer's Agnosticism.
However, our concern here is with the two parties as they
then were, with their mixture of opposite inteUectual prhiciples
with agreement in high elevation of moral tone, and devotion
to the Church of England, as each side conceived it. The
formal declaration of war between them in the University of
Oxford may perhaps be fixed at 1836. Dr. Hampden, who
has been already referred to as the author of a latitudinarian
pamphlet, had hkewise expressed his views in the Bampton
lectures deUvered by him in 1832. On his being appotuted
Eegius Professor of Divinity in 1836 a movement was set on
foot, in view of the laxity of his views, to deprive him, by the
^ See Amold's Life, vol. ii. p. 60.

Ill THREE MOVEMENTS OF ENGLISH THOUGHT 59
vote of Convocation, of two of the usual privUeges associated
with his appointment — the right to a vote in the nomination
of select preachers, and his position as one of the judges in
the cases of heresy which came before the University. New
man and Pusey were active promoters of this measure, which
was ultimately successful. It was warded off at first by the
veto of two proctors, — sympathisers with Hampden, — ^but on
the accession of two new proctors, Convocation was summoned
again and the final measures passed.
One special tenet of Hampden, which provoked the censure
of the High Church party, must not be passed over. It was
his advocacy of a relaxation of the Uiuversity tests — one of
which was subscription to the Thirty-nine Articles — in order
to admit wider divergence of theological opinion among Oxford
graduates. This he had advocated in the pamphlet aheady
referred to, and the Bampton lectures were considered to
breathe a simUar spirit of latitudinarianism and indifference to
dogmatic Christianity. Thus began a struggle on the part of
the Puseyites to maintain inviolate the Church of England
formulce, the effects of which a few years later unexpectedly
recoUed on their own heads ; and thus began explicitly
the controversy in which Mr. Ward took so active and
eager a share during the remaining nine years of his Oxford
career.

CHAPTEE IV
EARLY INTELLECTUAL AND EELIGIOUS HISTORY
I HATE now to give some account of the earlier phases of Mr.
Ward's intellectual history. So far as directly rehgious
opinions go, his own writings whUe at Oxford — his unpublished
sermons frora 1837 onward, and the Articles in the British
Critic in which he gave constant vent to his thoughts — afford
sufficient materials for this ; and their progress and history
shall be traced immediately. But one word must be said at
starting as to the earUest influences on his mental culture.
Mr. Gladstone said of him in 1844 that he owed more of his
mental culture to the writings of John MUI than to all the
Anglican divines put together, Mr. Newman excepted;^ and
this statement, taken frora the internal evidence of his writings,
was true as a fact. In his early Oxford days, indeed, his
acquaintance with Newman's writings had not begun, and it is
not too much to say that the strongest directly inteUectual
influence exercised on hira was that of Mill and Bentham.
" His reading and his opinions," writes Dean Lake of Durham,
"were (in 1834), and continued to be for sorae years, a rather
curious mixture. In phUosophy he was, or beUeved himself
to be, a thorough Benthamite, and devoted especially to young
MUI, whose articles in the London Beview of those days we all
eagerly devoured '' ; while in theology, " without ever having
been an Amoldian, he was a warm admirer of Arnold as well
as Wliately." The influence of MUI and Bentham, however, dated back
still earlier, as we have already seen ; and he was famiUar with
1 Quarterly Review, October 1844 ; Article — " Ward's Ideal of a Christim
Church. "

IV EARLY INTELLECTUAL &= RELIGIOUS HISTORY 6i
their writings in his undergraduate days. That he at any time
adopted their Utihtarianism in its entirety, as some of his
friends suppose, seems improbable ; but ahke in method and in
etlios they were singularly attractive to him, and left evident
traces on his mind. "Ward was a bom logician," Mr. T.
Mozley has said ; and the method of these writers appealed
strongly to such an inteUect. They fostered in him a love
of completeness in statement, of clear and exphcit discussion,
a suspicion of mere tradition or custom, a dislike of the
slightest confusion of expression, or want of system in phU
osophy — all these on the inteUectual side ; and, in addition,
an appetite for drastic reform, and the moral qualities of
candour and love of truth. These points are evident from
first to last in Ward's language concerning both writers,
though he rejected their views far more completely after than
before he had joined the Tractarians. Mistiness was to him
the greatest of intellectual trials, and dialectics the keenest
of pleasures. And those who canonised mistiness as all one
with religious mystery, and looked askance at argumentative
discussion as savouring of rationalism, were at all times his
natural enemies. MUI and Bentham represented the com
pletest imaginable antithesis to such a spirit.
He expresses this feeling in writing in the British Critic on
MUl's Logic. " It appears to us," he writes, " that there is a
tendency in a certain class of writers in the present day (a
tendency which probably had its origin in the reaction against
the philosophy of the last century) to look with great suspicion
on clear, consistent, straightforward thought and language ; a
tendency to admire the self-contradictory as being aU one mth
the mysterious, and to regard the pursuit of system as betoken
ing in itself somewhat of a rationaUstic and dangerous dis
position. Yet surely, as has been said, ' system is the very
soul of philosophy,' and is in no other sense rationalistic than
phUosophy itself is so." And he proceeds to hail with
satisfaction in Mill and Bentham alike, their clearness and
explicitness of system and expression. The boldness with
which Bentham chaUenged the moral sense school as giving " no
reason for the sentiment [of right], and setting up sentiment
as its own reason ; " the scientific fonn into which he threw
the application of the happiness principle, analysing the various

62 EARL Y INTELLECTUAL chap.
classes and orders of consequences, and the classification of
offences, which so much impressed John Mill in Dumont's
redaction, were equaUy attractive to Ward as an inteUectual
treat. And MUl's own adoption and exposition of UtiUtarian
principles seemed still more thorough and able. MiU's "earnest
ness and single-raindedness" are, moreover, strongly insisted
on in the article from which I have quoted. It speaks of his
" purity and manifest devotion to truth,'' and his " susceptibUity
to every breath of reason." " At a time," it continues, " when
so much of charlatanerie is written, and finds acceptance on
the most serious subjects of thought, to meet with an
enquirer who bears every mark of a single-minded and earnest
pursuit of truth, cheers and relieves the spirits."
Such were the inteUectual armour and weapons with
which Mr. Ward entered on his career at Oxford — an equipment
simUar to that of John MiU hiraself, allowing for a difference
of antecedents. On the other hand, MUl's historical studies,
which, if not congenial to the bent of his mind, formed an
important part of his early training, had no counterpart in
the Oxford thinker ; and Ward's early religious education aud
deep religious instincts were important points of divergence
from MiU at starting, and in the event led to an absolute con
trariety between the two in principles as weU as in opinions.
Love of system and consistency were not qualities which
made the Anghcan Church an object of intellectual satisfac
tion. The outgrowth of a complex theological past, represent- -
ing historically widely different schools of thought, attractive
mainly from her connection with what was dear to English
hearts, from a beautiful liturgy much of which was in logical
opposition to the Thirty-nine Articles of Subscription, from
early historic memories of which she was the embodiment, in
point of rehgious vitaUty and earnestness at so low an ebb that
her dissolution was looked upon as imminent, she had little in
her to attract one who, like Ward, had, theoretically at least,^
no love of England and no taste for history, and who looked
mainly for two things — clearness and consistency of system,
and ethical earnestness. The AngUcan Church, indeed, as a
^ His peculiar love of English characteristics — fair-play, straightforwardness,
downrightness, etc. — makes one slow to say that his theories against patriotism
corresponded to his own feelings in every respect.

IV AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY 63
Church never aroused in him one spark of patriotism, and the
only interpretation of it he could endure was that of Arch
bishop Whately. Whately brought to bear on theology MUl's
method of free discussion, and his readiness to question unsup
ported tradition and sentiment.
The progress of Ward's religious views during the next
few years — from 1834 onwards — consisted in the gradual
development of two tendencies — to free discussion and ab
stract speculation intellectually, and to the practical realisa
tion and application of his high moral and rehgious ideal
ethicaUy. They were, he afterwards came to hold, reaUy
divergent ; and the inteUectual principle — of universal ques
tioning and explicit analysis and discussion, as the one road to
truth, — ^led to a scepticism which left no basis for his ethical
principles. Harmony between the intellect and conscience
was effected for him for the first time by Newman's teaching.
Looking back at this period later in life he wrote : " I was
enmeshed in the toils of a false philosophy which could have
had no other legitimate issue except a further and further
descent towards the gulf of utter infidehty. From this
thraldom the one human agency which effected my deliver
ance was Father Newman's teaching. My deliverance was
wrought not merely through the truth and depth (as I con
sider) of those philosophical principles which he inculcated,
but also through the singular large-mindedness whereby he
was able to make those principles both inteUigible and attractive
to every variety of character." The mental process whereby
this came about must now be traced from his writings, at the
risk of some prolixity of detail, and of the introduction of a
certain amount of technical discussion.
The point of departure was general dissatisfaction with the
AngUcan Church in her existing condition. She did not
represent — as did the Protestant Churches abroad — the triumph
of Lutheranism or Calvinism ; she was not — as the Orthodox
Churches in St. Petersburg or Constantinople — merely in a
state of external schism from Eome ; she was not a part of the
Eoman CathoUc Church. She was not merely Protestant,
merely Catholic, or merely schismatic. She was a compound
of the three. In doctrine partly Protestant, partly CathoUc ;
in position schismatic. The High Church represented the

64 EARLY INTELLECTUAL chap.
CathoUc, the Low Church the Protestant elements ; and in so
far as Protestantism is a direct negation of Catholic doctrine,
and of the conception of the Catholic Church, the two parties
were logicaUy in conflict. The effect on the average concrete
Churchman of these very opposite influences — tainting High
Churchmen with a Uttle Lutheranism and Low Churchmen
with a Uttle Catholicism — was a curious and perplexing
inteUectual study. Cardinal Newman has described it in a
passage which Ward dehghted to quote.
" In the present day," he wrote, " mistiness is the mother
of wisdom. A man who . . . never enunciates a truth without
guarding himself against being supposed to exclude its contra
dictory — ^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 that 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."
And closely bound up with this general haziness as to
what was believed was an equally unsatisfactory account, on
the part of High Church and Low Church alike, as to why
so much and no more was beheved by each party. Church
authority in so anomalous a state of things was a quick
sand which few ventured to tread firmly ; and yet, if Scripture -
were the only guide, both parties seemed to take a pre
judiced view. There were texts telUng both ways, and
each side quoted one set giving no fair weight to the other.
There was no coherent basis of beUef — true or false — to he
found at all. " How the principles of ' Conservative Anglican
ism ' can be placed on any philosophical basis at all," Ward
wrote, " or how they can be so much as stated plainly and con
sistently without disclosing features which would repel the most
cowardly and most indolent, I have never been able to learn."
Whately set Mr. Ward free from this maze of inconsistency.
He did so, it is tme, by a ruthless criticism of Scripture proofs,^

IV AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY 65
He did not reconcile and arrange Church doctrine and its
proofs ; he destroyed them. It was the method of a dentist
who extracts all his patient's teeth as the best means of curing
toothache. But still he was consistent, and arranged systemati
caUy the residuum which he retained. If his treatment of
Church doctrine recalled Tacitus' words, " Solitudinem faciunt
pacem appellant," sueh doctrinal barrenness was at least less
distressing than the constant war of contradictory propositions.
If dogma was so unsatisfactorUy proven by each of the extreme
parties, he argued, the correct solution seemed to be to mini
mise the amount of essential doctrine, to sympathise with the
good and rehgious men of all parties, to place dogmatic theology
in a secondary place, and the vital rules of conduct and the
main practical beliefs of Christianity, in which all schools were
agreed, in the foremost rank. Mr. Ward speaks in the British
Critic of the "special charm" in Whately's writings arising
from " his apparent anxiety to do justice to aU the different
parties of the religious world, to recognise and praise what was
good in each, and deprecate uncharitable misconstractions on
all sides ; " and, on the other hand, allied to this large-minded
sympathy with all that was good in every school — a protest
against intolerance — there was iu Whately a protest also
against the unreality of basing difficult and mysterious doctrines
simply on ambiguous passages of Scripture, which were utterly
insufficient for the weight they had to sustain. The directly
sacramental character of orders, the real presence hi the
Eucharist, the inheritance of guUt, making us displeasing to
God, from the act of our forefathers in which we had no share,^
— these were difficult points on which Mr. Ward was glad to
take the liberal view, whether from the unsatisfactory nature
of the proofs adduced, or (as in the last-mentioned case) from
their insufficiency to counterbalance the difficulties inherent in
the doctrines themselves. There seemed to him an element of
"sham" in the profession of beliefs of this kind on such
slight foundation. And when, further, mere prejudices were
made the foundation for utter intolerance of all other views,
and were erected by their supporters into absolute certainties,
I British Crilic, vol. xxxi. p. 268, etc., he refere to these features in Whately's
teachinff In the same essay are to be found numerous indications of the qualitie.i
in Whately's writings which had in the past attracted Mr. Ward.

66 EARLY INTELLECTUAL chap.
the paradox of the position appeared stiU greater. " In dubus
Ubertas " seemed an obvious maxim in such cases. Intolerance
in believers in an infaUible church always seemed to him far
more consistent ; but, to take an example, for High Churchmen
to make the uncertain interpretation of such a text as " This is
my body " in one way rather than another, ground for branding
as heretics the excellent and zealous men who could not see in
it what they saw, seemed the acme of narrowness and bigotry.
The principle of interpretation which Whately accepted, and
which seemed fair to all parties, is thus stated by Mr. Ward : —
" If after we have employed our utmost pains on the right
interpretation of Scripture there remain any doctrines fairly disput
able, any practices the advocates and opponents of which can equally
appeal to Scripture as justifying or condemning them, then we may
be sure that those doctrines and practices are really unessential and
indifferent, and that every man must be content with holding his
own opinion about them in perfect tolerance of the opposite opinion
entertained by his neighbours." ^
But a far higher influence than Whately's was that of Dr.
Arnold. His sermons had early attracted Mr. Ward from
their high and unworldly tone, and his infiuence grew more
potent from the time when Mr. Ward's friendship with Arthur
Stanley — Arnold's favourite pupil — commenced in 1834. It
was a directly sphitual influence and not, as Whately's had
been, mainly inteUectual Fairness and sincerity were but the
skeleton of a reUgion, and it needed flesh and blood to clothe
it. There were deep cravings after a high moral ideal which
a merely intellectual system could not satisfy. From child
hood the idea of working for God's cause in the world had, as
we have seen, inspired him, and he could not rest satisfied
untU he had found a teacher who could touch his heart as well
as his intellect. This need Dr. Arnold suppUed.
He had all the breadth of sympathy and dislike of unreahtjr
which had attracted Ward in Whately's writings — though per
haps less of logical force ; — aud he added to these an iatensity
of ethical earnestness and an elevation of moral purpose, which
were deeply, influential on his new disciple. His influence .
was personal and spiritual It was the influence of a high
character testifying by life and by action rather than by argu-
^ British Critic, vol. xxx. p. 339.

IV AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY 67
ment to the substantial truth of his teaching. Here was not
only a protest against unreaUty and inconsistency, but the
positive inculcation of a rule of hfe, of the practical ways of
carrying out of the Gospel precepts, and utiUsing aU rehgious
belief in the struggle for God's cause in the world. It was
Mr. Ward's first introduction to ascetic rehgion, — to en
thusiasm for self- discipline and self- improvement. The
Eugby boys — W. C. Lake, now Dean of Durham, Arthur
Stanley, Arthur Hugh Clough, the poet, with whom Ward
was intimate at Oxford — were a sort of flesh and blood
argument for the powerful living force of Arnold's reUgion.
The inconsistency in the current Christianity between the
language of the orthodox preacher in the pulpit, and the
practical standard aimed at or even revered by the average
Churchman, was at least minimised by Arnold. He preached
to his pupUs practical lessons on the actual duties of their state
of life, and the standard aimed at by them was identical with
the standard held up in his sermons. The subtle faults of
pride, hypocrisy, unkindness, contempt for the poor, idolatry of
worldly success, substitution of ambition for the sense of duty
as the mainspring of action in life, and so forth, were made
matter for practical self-examination ; and at last Ward found
religion directly and exclusively connected with the acquire
ment of personal holiness. The religion of respectability — the
punctilious, external, Ufeless, decorous, church-going Protestant
ism, self-satisfied, censorious, easUy-shocked, to which he had
been accustomed — had always been distasteful to him. Ee-
Ugion seemed to him purely a personal and hiternal matter,
and perhaps at that time he made less account than later of
the value of example, and of the effect of external practices in
introducing spiritual ideas and habits. If he found that going
twice to church on Sunday led him to be less attentive, and
made his Sunday on the whole less profitable, he would go
once only, heedless of the comments of those around him.
His conscience was most self-accusing, and he was a severe
critic of himself. But once he had satisfied himself that a
particular course was right he thought Uttle of the opinion of
others ; and in later years, after he had joined the CathoUc
Church, the numberless practices of goodness and self-denial
which were habitual to him, aud which he found more useful

68 EARLY INTELLECTUAL chap.
than some of the ordinary services, were known only to a few
? most intimate friends. Arnold's inculcation, then, of personal
rehgion, and comparative disparagement of forms, attracted
him as being a protest against conventional Protestantism.
" For years," he writes, " consciously or not, and in various
shapes not recognised by me at the time as modifications of
the same symptoms, had my feehngs been oppressed and (I
may reaUy say) tortured by this heavy, unspiritual, unelastic,
prosaic, unfeeling, unmeaning Protestant spirit ; all the time
my ears were stunned with the din of self-laudation, with the
words ' pure and apostolical,' ' evangehcal truth and apostohcal
order,' and the like most miserable watchwords.''
But Arnold's teaching was a protest too against Newman
ism as he then conceived it. The religion of the Tractarians
seemed in a different way from ultra-Protestantism, but still
equaUy, an external reUgion. He looked on it as characteristic-
aUy antiquarian — filling the mind with legends and traditions,
many of them incredible myths, and peopling the imagination
with the romantic, and with visions of a shadowy and useless 5
character, while neglecting the really important offices of
religion. The sacramental and sacerdotal ideas, too, were to
him distasteful and unreal — substituting an artificial sacred
ness for the sanctity of personal goodness. It was not until
he had become acquainted with the ascetic side of Catholic!
teaching that this view changed. Arnoldism, then, by its
rejection or disparagement of all in religion which did not
directly tend to bring the soul nearer to God and further from
sin, was to Ward a wholesome antidote to both these kinds of
formaUsm. " The great idea," he wrote, " which Dr. Arnold
seems to have grasped and to put forth in every variety of
shape in his sermons, is the duty of doing all to the glory of
God ; of considering our daily labours in the world, the duties
of our station, the part we take in politics to be as truly
reUgious acts, and claiming to be done in as rehgious a spirit
as prayer is." ^ Such was the state of Mr. Ward's views up
to 1837. And he made those views felt among his friends j
and pupUs, as -even those attest who least understood his
character or agreed with his opinions. "Ward's weight in
the University was great," says Mr. T. Mozley, speaking of
^ British Critic, vol. xxx. p. 300.

IV AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY 69
this tirae. "He represented the intellectual force, the irre
fragable logic, the absolute self-confidence, and the headlong
impetuosity of the Eugby schooL ... As a philosopher and
a logician it was hard to deal with him." The ethical and
doctrinal aspect of his Arnoldian religion is shown clearly and
forcibly in a sermon written by him in 1837, which is given
in full in the Appendix to this volume.-'
Mr. Ward, writing on Arnold a little later in the British
Critic, selects the following points in his teaching as having
been especiaUy attractive to him — his hatred of worldhness,
the peculiar reality to be found in his treatment of Scripture,
and his strong sense of Christian equality among those of
different stations in Ufe. The first of these laid a very deep
hold on Mr. Ward. Both his keen sense of the greatness of
the moral ideal and his love of consistency led him to protest
strongly against the elements of preferment-hunting, of ambition
for success, of measuring things practicaUy by a worldly standard,
which seemed only too common in the Established Church.
Worldhness was one of those "secret sins" which were sUently
tolerated to a dangerous extent, however much they were con
demned in the Scripture texts and prayers which were in use
among all parties. Arnold brought into the region of practical
life the much-needed protest against it — and not simply a
negative protest, but an active spirit of opposition to it. He
taught his pupils to have a pride in making a stand in
society against worldhness, to despise it as unworthy of a
Christian, bringing to bear a certain esprit de corps in favour of
unworldliness which was far more effectual than any mere
exhortations. Mr. Ward felt to the end of his life great
gratitude to Arnold for his influence in this respect. He
always considered worldhness as a most dangerous foe, because
so insidious and hard to detect. The flesh and the devil were
open enemies, but the world was a false friend. All men
have in some degree to keep terms with it. And worldhness,
under the specious appearance of knowledge of the world, or
under the plea of common sense, would often obtain a footing
which might afterwards grow untU the spirit of this world had
altogether expelled the Sphit of God. He spoke of it as " the
circumambient poison," and waged against it a hearty and uncom-
' See Appendix A.

70 EARLY INTELLECTUAL chap.
promising war. " I may aver with a safe conscience," he used
^ to say, " and I thank God for it, that any power of retort or
sarcasm which I have had has been consistently used by me in
trying to make God's enemies look foohsh, and never on the
side of worldhness." His feeling about the poor and about
difference of caste in general was in some sense a part of this.
While always recognising external differences, and the pro
priety of observing the customary manners proceeding therefrom,
he was delicately sensitive to the feehngs of those in a different
class of life, taking the greatest pains not to wound them, con
sulting their feelings constantly and closely, and this not as
practising a special virtue, but as avoiding a most odious vice.
The following are extracts from the article in question
illustrative of the points to which I have referred : —
"There is another subject ... of which . . . this author
(Dr. Arnold) has more than once treated with great piety and
earnestness. We allude to the odiously unchristian way both of
speaking and of thinking of the poor, which, alas ! we fear it cannot
be denied pervades the upper and middle classes of Englishmen.
We hope and believe there are even now no uncertain appearances
of amendment in this respect, but, so odious is it, that while and
in proportion as it lasts it cannot but draw down God's heavy dis
pleasure on our country. This, naturally enough, shows itself in
its most coarse and offensive shape in boys at school, and (we will
add) young men at the universities ; and the sort of li/Jpts exhibited
by scholars towards the lower classes calls forth, as might have
been expected, some of Dr. Arnold's severest and most pointed '
censures." ^
With respect to Dr. Arnold's treatment of Scripture he
writes thus : —
" Another great excellence of Dr. Arnold's writing is his real
and open-hearted way of looking at holy Scripture. To make
plainer what we mean, let us confine our observation to the four
gospels ; though far from meaning to confine our praise to his
dealings vrith them. Nothing seems more rare in this Bible-reading
age than the habit of grasping and setting plainly before the mind,
as though in a picture, the recorded events of our- Lord's life ; or
again, of even attempting to seize the true force of the ' gracious !
words which proceeded out of His mouth.' The dryness and dull
ness with which, after all our boasts on the subject, we peruse the
gospels is very astonishing. In this respect the middle ages of the
¦ ^ British Critic, vol. xxx. p. 302.

IV , AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY yi
Church (not to go back earlier, which would of course make the
contrast far stronger) seem greatly to surpass our own. Whether
the rarity and difl&culty of obtaining different parts of the text
of Scripture made them proportionately prized, or whether the
representations of sacred things, then so common, caused the
effect, or the zeal with which the different festivals were cele
brated, certain it seems, that they were much more in the habit
of a reverent and affectionate contemplation and realisation of the
details of our Lord's life. His words and His works, than we
usually are. Now in this Dr. Arnold excels. We do not say
that he seems always sufficiently impressed with the feeling whose
words and acts he speaks of ; we do not think he does : but they
are real objects with him — they appear the very frequent subjects
of his thought, and he sees difficulties and seeming contradictions
where more careless readers pass contentedly on, seeing no difficulty
because they see no reality!' ^
I must not omit to mention a further point, in which
Dr. Arnold's tone chimed in with a very deep feehng of Mr.
Ward's, against one aspect of the religion current among
Evangelical Protestants. His systematic lessons on the duty
of self-improveraent and of struggling against the lower
tendencies of nature, were in marked contrast to the element
of fatalism which the Evangelical party had imbibed from
Luther. Eeahsing the Lutheran principle in all its conse
quences he was filled with horror for it, as for the destruction
of the very idea of the virtue of self-conquest. Though doubt
less never fully acted on, it seemed to involve total passivity
— a surrender to the spirit or to the flesh, whichever had the
upper hand.
Here then were Mr. Ward's two principles of rehgion of
which I have spoken — the intellectual principle of fairness,
candour, straightforwardness, of frank discussion concerning
the evidence on which belief rests, of fuUy reaUsing what we
profess ; all this issuing in a very general toleration of dog
matic differences, and a comparatively reduced catalogue of
essential beUefs ; and the ethical principle involving an un
compromising stand against worldhness, a love of holiness, the
idea of the glory of God in daUy actions, constant attention to
moral discipline and self-improvement — aU this accepted as
teaching which commended itself to the conscience and spiritual
nature. 1 British Critic, voL xxx. p. 303.

72 EARLY iimjELLECTUAL chap.
In Dr. Arnold's own view these two principles worked
harmoniously together. By free inquiry into the Scriptures
he gained just so much dogmatic belief as sufficed to form
a basis for his ethical precepts. But Mr. Ward soon
came to hold that Socinianism, nay atheism itself, had
enough to say for itself, if the principle of inquiry were
that of " candid intellectual criticism," to shake the cer
tainty of Dr. Arnold's conclusions. Arnold interpreted
Scripture according to the critical method, and elaborated
therefrom a plausible scheme of doctrine. But how about the
previous question, the inspiration of Scripture ? How about the
proofs of revelation ? How about the existence of God
Himself? This much was at least clear that on such
questions a candid and fuU examination into all views was a
work beyond the reach of the mass of mankind, and one
requiring more time than that of ordinary human existence.
An opinion might be held on portions of the subject, but to
decide with certainty on the whole was, on such principles,
impossible for the average inquirer.
Mr. Ward states the case with characteristic vigour
in the British Critic : " For our own part," he says, " we
should be inclined to say that, on a very moderate com
putation, five times the amount of a man's natural life
might qualify a person endowed with extraordinary genius
to have some faint notion (though even this we doubt) on
which side truth lies." ' Some higher and more direct
principle, then, than this of " free inquiry " and " private judg
ment " was needed. Free inquiry itself led to uncertainty at
best ; and if there were no surer method of knowledge its result
must be a species of Agnosticism — the view that nothing certain
can be known as to the very fundamental truths of religion.
Mr. Ward's belief in the inteUectual principles of Amoldisin
faUed him, and for a time his opinions were in a state
of fua;, and the future course of his speculative mind was
uncertain. But his conviction of the essential truth and value
of Arnold's ethical teaching, so far as it went, did not waver,''
^ British Critic, vol. xxxiii. p. 214.
^ After joining the Tractarians he writes of this teaching, "In proportion as
it is realised it may be made the foundation on which any amount of true
doctrine may be reared."

IV AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY Ti
and under the various influences, of which some account shall
be given directly, he was led to recognise first that the basis
of his trust in Arnold was mainly a moral basis — resting on
the intuitive perceptions of the spiritual nature, and next that
this basis, if fully realised, involved principles which would lead
him to recognise conscience and not intellect as the supreme
guide in religious inquiry. Conscience was the primary in
formant, as being directly conversant with the moral nature of
the individual, and with the first principles which that nature
imphed, and also as giving him instinctive trast in others whose
moral perceptions were wider and truer than his own.
And here we have in reaUty the underlying principle of
his progress from Arnoldism to Newmanism. The change
which seemed so fundamental was reaUy logical, and was the
carrying out of principles rather than the change of principles.
His earnest and constant cry was in spiritual matters, " Give
me a guide." " A deep cry," he writes, " is heard from human
nature, ' Teach us the truth, for we cannot find it ourselves, yet
we need it more than aught else on earth.' " Again and again
he quoted Carlyle's saying, " True guidance in return for loving
obedience, did he but know it, is man's prime need." The
great note which attracted him towards a reUgious teacher was
personal sanctity. " The moral faculty," he wrote, " is not left
to its own unaided powers ; for one of the very earliest lessons
it teaches us is the perception of superior goodness ; and the
duty of reposing an ardent and loving trust in the dictates of
that goodness." And again, " Holy men are the great fmmtains
from which moral and religious truth flows to the world : if a
revelation be given they are the authorised interpreters ; if
there be a living authoritative tribunal, their spiritual experi
ence furnishes materials for the decrees of that tribunal ; if no
special revelation, on them must the task be imposed of coUect
ing and discriminating the various scattered traditions which
are afloat in the current of human speculation."
On these principles an ethical system or a spiritual
authority which, as such, seemed higher and more thorough than
Arnold's, had a primd facie claim on his allegiance, and such
a system he eventually found in Mr. Newman's teaching. It
was opposed to Arnold's inteUectual system, but that system
Mr. Ward could no longer accept. It was not opposed to, it

74 EARLY IN i j^LLi^CI UAl chap.
was the more complete carrying out of the high and imworldly
morality which Arnold inculcated.
And another thought, too, associated with these points,
must be referred to as having paved the way for acceptance of
the elaborate doctrinal creed of Newmanism, a creed which
laid such stress on those very minutite of dogmatic beliefs
which Uberalism treated as unreal and unimportant. His
original tendency had been, feeling the difficulty attending on
aU proof in matters of doctrine on the one hand, and on the
other the absolute and undeniable reality of the conscience and
the moral law, to minimise the former, and to insist on the
latter. But when as time went on he came to feel that that
very minimum of doctrine which was necessary as a support
and sanction to the moral law must fade away before the
consistent application of the latitudinarian inteUectual prin
ciples, the question presented itself: May there not be after
all some indissoluble connection between the plenitude of
doctrine and the highest morality ? Those dogmas which I
have looked on as burdens, may they not be after all as helpful
to the full development of the moral life as beUef in God's
existence is indispensable to its first rudiments? Then fol
lowing on this carae the conception of Church authority as the
external embodiment of conscience, completing and defining
both in religious knowledge and moral precept what conscience
traced faintly and imperfectly : recognised by men of good-wiU
as the vicegerent of God in the world : confirming with a
directly divine sanction those reasonings from Scripture which
by themselves had seemed so imperfect, just as the arguments
for God's existence seemed imperfect without the clear con
firming voice of conscience to seal and secure them.
The foUowing extracts will suffice for the present as
illustrations of the two hues of thought I have just spoken
of, his view of the sceptical results of the principle of free
inquiry, and his view of the instinctive trust reposed by the
conscience in superior sanctity as the lawful means of advance
in religious knowledge. After challenghig the various schools
within the Church of England to aver that they have really
done their best to do justice to the plausibleness of the
Scriptural texts adduced in behalf of views other than their
own, he declares that in the absence of such an effort "the

IV AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY 75
texts you adduce are not really the grounds of your behef;
the two are as it were stereotyped in your mind together;
you learn your doctrines and you learn your texts to prove
them hke an undergraduate preparing for an examination."
The real basis of their behef, he maintains, is not free inquiry,
but something else. How much doctrine, then, wUl free
inquiry reaUy support ? He asserts that no religious behef
really rests on it; that no beUever holds to his behef by
means of the mere intellectual balancing of its pros and cons.
" Joining ordinary Protestant with Socinian," he continues, " let
me further ask them : Have you fairly investigated the origin and
authority of the Bible? Have you done any justice to Schleier-
macher's view, and Paulus's view, and Strauss's view t Or other
wise, how can you blame those who believe as you do without
Scripture proof when you believe Scripture itself without any
proof? . . . And now to consider the school itself of Schleiermacher,
or of Paulus, or of Strauss. Surely if they proceed on unconsidered
presumptions they are of all men the most unreasonable : for it is
their very boast that they probe things to the bottom ; and it is
the very reproach they cast on others that the world at large pro
ceeds on an unreasoning faith. Now in aU their criticisms on the
sacred volume they assume, of course as a matter beyond dispute,
the doctrines of Theism. I would ask, have they ever systematically
examined those doctrines ? Have they ever made the dehberate
and methodical attempt to resist the incalculable influence which
they well know must be exercised on their judgment by all the
prejudices of early habit and education, to do full justice both in
their reason and in their imagination to such arguments and
sentiments, e.g. as those of M. Comte, and, in fine, only to beheve in
God with that degree of belief which the preponderance of the
argument on that side justifies? . . . And now let us seriously
consider to the best of our ability the chief question of all : how
much knowledge should we really possess if this principle were
consistently carried out? Consider the solemn truth Theism of
which I have just been speaking, what are the gi-ounds on which
we receive it ? Now I will allow for the moment far greater force
than I believe to be justly due to the argument from final causes ;
and I will waive the reasoning which I used (elsewhere) to show
the necessity of consulting the conscience for so much as the very
idea of God. StUl Paley's argument cannot be considered to prove
much more than God's power and wisdom ; qualities which, in fact,
we believe Satan to possess in great exceUence. But what are those
attributes of God which really interest ourselves as moral and
rational agents? Goodness (I mean His being the perfect con-

76 EARLY INTELLECTUAL chap.
centration and embodiment of our scattered and unconnected ideas
of the good and the beautiful), justice, mercy. Now when we
consider the fearful amount of suffering mental and bodily which
exists in every direction, even after giving its fullest weight to
Paley's ingenious plea, we cannot profess with the slightest colour
of plausibility that firom the visible creation alone we should obtain
a belief in the Creator's infinite love for man and for His creatures ;
while those other attributes — goodness and justice — have nothing
even commensurate with such arguments as Paley adduces. And
in the last place, where in the natural world shall we see indications
of God's personality ?"
The second extract has reference to the possible sources of
modification of religious opinion, on the hypothesis that a
sensitive and cultivated conscience wUl be instinctively drawn
to higher and truer religious teaching, when such teaching
shall come before it. He puts the case of one who
" has come to the knowledge of some (to him) new and surprising
system ; or has become acquainted with the person or writings
of some distinguished individual ; or in some other way has been
brought to the perception of a range of external ideas, which reveal
to him depths in his own heart formerly concealed from his observa
tion ; which are the objective embodiment of truths fioating hitherto
in his mind unrecognised, nay, unsuspected ; or which promise the
satisfaction of feelings and needs of which up to this time he has
been unconsciously conscious. If indeed those truths which he has
already recognised and appropriated be not also a real and solid
portion of this new system he can give to it no implicit trust ; and
thus we see one most important protection against the temptation
of dreamy sentimentality or the deceit of unreal speculation. But
otherwise after due and cautious deliberation, or very possibly
indeed by an almost unperceived process his confiding allegiance
will be transferred to this new authority, the object varied, the
sentiment of trust the same."
Lastly, the conscience becomes sensitive to a higher and
truer reUgious system in proportion as its commands are
obeyed. This he develops in a MS. sermon preached in
1839.^ These commands may come in the form of direct
intimations from our moral nature, or in the form of injunctions
from those to whom God has given authority over us. In
^ The date given in the text is approximate. The sermon bears no date, but
it is in a book of MS. sermons the earliest of which is dated 1837 ; while from
internal evidence it must have been written after he joined -the Newmanites.
Some more extracts from the sermon are given in Appendix B.

IV AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY n
either case obedience is the appointed path to rehgious
knowledge. He defines the power of obedience as foUows : —
" Obedience by itself will [not] lead [men] into all the truth,
though it will rescue them from error. Those who obeyed the
Baptist's preaching ever so faithfully did not find out Christ's doc
trine for themselves, but they received and acknowledged it when
He came. They found that in His teaching and in His very bearing
and manner which answered to the wants and cravings they felt
within them, and which declared unto them what they had ignorantly
worshipped. And so, though in ever so diminished a measure,
God's truth, spoken though it be by fallible man, has, on the whole,
in it that voice of God which is recognised by his elect — ^by those
who have trained themselves in such obedience as I have described.
. . . Obedience comes first, knowledge afterwards. It is by being
pure in heart that we see God, not by seeing God that we first be
come pure in heart. . . . Obedience is the very air in which re
ligious faith lives ; without obedience it languishes and dies. . . .
He who learns the truth from argument or mere trust in men may
lose it again by argument or by trust in men ; but he who learns
it by obedience can lose it only by disobedience."
So much, then, as to the intellectual elements involved in
Mr. Ward's change of position, — in his adoption of Cathohc
dogma and his acceptance of the conceptions of the Church
Universal and Church Authority. From the first these beUefs
seemed to him far more congenial to the Church of Eome
than to the Church of England ; but the Movement held out
prospects of an English Church very different fi-om that in
which he had been brought up, and, with certain qualifications
in his adherence to the teaching of the Tracts which sliaU be
detailed later on, he surrendered to the powerful infiuences
around him in Oxford, and joined the ranks of Newman's
party.

CHAPTEE V

CATHOLIC INFLUENCES

I HAVE now to give some account of the various external cir
cumstances and forces which had their share — and a very
considerable share— in the process of Mr. Ward's conversion
to Newmanisra. Sorae of his earhest religious impressions were derived
from the Catholic services which he attended occasionally in
London during the early years of his Oxford career. He was
familiar with the Eoman breviary, and was drawn both to its
poetry and to the principle of ever-living commemoration of
the saints which it embodied. The descriptive elements in
the Catholic hturgy, too, and its variety, attracted him ; and
again, the systematic discipline of the Church and the simplicity
of her logical position were intellectuaUy points in her favour
He had early learnt to dishke the Eeformers, for whom Arnold
himseK had little respect, and found enough in Milner's writ
ings to lead him to condemn the Eeformation. He affirms in a
letter to Dr. Pusey, which shaU be cited later on, that he had
contemplated the possibihty of becoming a Cathohc, in his
dissatisfaction with the Anglican Church even as interpreted
by Arnold, before he had seriously thought of attaching him
self to the Tractarian party. AU this deserves to be called
attention to in forming an estimate both of the length of
time during which Cathohc infiuences acted on him, and the
nature of his subscription to Newman's via media.
Next in order must be mentioned a visit to Dr. Arnold at
Eugby, in which the doctor failed entirely to convince Mr.
Ward as to the logical vaUdity of his position, and increased
his foUower's general dissatisfaction, and the sceptical difficulties

CHAP. V CATHOLIC INFLUENCES 79
which haunted him. This event was often related by Mr.
Ward in later Ufe, with a full appreciation of the humorous
elements in the incident, and of that side of it which told
against himself.
Dr. Arnold, busy all day with the routine of school-work,
came in the evening, pretty well tired out, to discuss as he
could Mr. Ward's sceptical difficulties and inteUectual pro
blems ; whUe the younger man, who had sat on the sofa read
ing novels aU day, brought to the discussion not only his
special habits and endowments as a dialectician, but the fresh
ness of an unexercised brain. The result was that Arnold not
only failed to satisfy him, but was himself so exhausted, that
on Ward's departure he had to spend a day in bed. Ward
went away, however, thoroughly dissatisfied with his intel
lectual position, his sceptical difficulties weighing on him more
heavUy than ever. It was about this time that a new personal
influence was suddenly brought to bear on him under the
following circumstances.
The movement of Newman and Pusey, as I have said, had
originally seemed in his eyes to tend towards the substitution
of formalism and antiquarianism for true reUgion. At one
time he and Tait considered the Tracts so harmful that they
seriously thought of organising an "opposition" publication. He
used to say that he well remembered his father teUing him of
Newman's Ul success in some attempt, and adding the remark,
"with your hatred of Newman and Pusey this will please you ; "
and the late Professor Bonamy Price, Arnold's friend and colla-
borateur at Eugby, in some notes made a Uttle later of his
recollections of this period (which shaU be quoted soon at
greater length) says that when pressed to go and hear New
man's sermons he used to say, " Why should I go and listen to
such myths ? "
This frame of mind was abruptly brought to an end under
circumstances described below by Mr. Price when, on hearing
Newman preach for the first time, he found in his tone and
teaching aU and more than aU of that exalted ethical character
which had won him to Dr. Arnold. The devotion to antique
rule, the love of unreal supernatural legend, the advocacy of
superstitious rites as all-important, which had in his mind
been the essence of Newmanism, did not appear at all, and

8o CATHOLIC INFLUENCES chap.
the idea of hoUness as the one aim was the pervading spirit of
the whole sermon. Ward's inteUectual convictions were not
consciously changed, but his whole animus was ; and hence
forth the Movement attracted instead of repeUing his moral
nature. The following are the notes by the late Professor
Price to which I have referred, and which he Idndly aUowed
rae to reproduce here : —
" Ward of Balliol is a man of great power. He came up to Oxford
a Benthamite, a believer in virtue being the greatest happiness of
the greatest number. In fact, he was a Eationalist. He was
Fellow of Balliol not long after 1830.^ He was a very energetic
talker of great power of reasoning. . . . His chosen field was the
region between religion and scepticism. He felt little scruple in
winning over converts to Eationalism by very elaborate assaults in
sophistry. After a while John Henry Newman [commenced] the
Tractarian movement. He was vicar of St. Mary's, Oxford — the
Church of the University also. He preached regularly on Sunday
afternoons at five o'clock from St. Mary's pulpit. His sermons, as
is well known, excited an interest as widely spread as it was
keen amongst his audience — eager to hear more, sharply stirred up
by the genius, the delicacy and subtlety of thought, the intense
religious feeling, and above aU by the flashes of unspeakable
mystery which pervaded his utterances. The excitement they ¦
created scattered waves of feeling far beyond the precincts of the
University. Ward was often pressed to go and hear them, but he
impetuously refused. ' Why should I go and listen to such myths ! '
What he heard of the nature and effects of these sermons revolted
him. At last one of his friends laid a plot against him. He in
vited him to take a walk and brought him to the porch of St.
Mary's Church precisely as the clock was striking five. ' Now,
Ward,' said he, 'Newman is at this moment going up into his
pulpit. Why should you not enter and hear him once ? It can do
you no harm. If you don't like the preaching you need not go a
second time, but do hear and judge what the thing is like.' By
the will of God Ward was persuaded and he entered the church.
. . . That sermon changed his whole life."
That moment was indeed the beginning of a personal
influence on the part of Newman which only increased as
hfe went on, and which no other man either before or
afterwards could equal. Many years later, when as Catholics
^ Mr. Price is not quite accurate as to his dates. Ward came up to Oxford in
1830, but was not Fellow of Balliol till 1834.

V CATHOLIC INFLUENCES 8i
they had diverged on matters of Ecclesiastical policy, Mr.
Ward wrote to him, " Ever since I have been unable to act
with you I have felt myself a kind of inteUectual orphan."
StUl the personal charm in its first as in its last stage did not
involve inteUectual agreement. Mr. Ward remained uncon
vinced. The scheme which Newman proposed — to restore
to the Anglican Church in some measure the discipline and
doctrine of the Fathers — was bold and captivating to his
imagination ; but it seemed to Mr. Ward to be bolder and
more drastic, in the change it must in consistency require, than
its authors were aware. It was plain to him that nothing
short of an explicit avowal that the principles of the Eeforma
tion were to be disowned and its work undone could meet the
logical requirements of the situation. And the leaders hesi
tated to go thus far.i
Newman attacked the whole question of the fundamental
theory of the Movement in the remarkable lectures already
referred to, which he deUvered in 1836 in Adam de Brome's
Chapel. Mr. Ward attended these lectures assiduously. The
theory of the via media was for the first time explicitly drawn
out, but it stopped short at the point where Mr. Ward's diffi
culty lay. It did not deal directly with the Eeformation of
the sixteenth century. There can be little doubt, however, that
as the lectures proceeded the attraction both of the lecturer
and his principles grew stronger, and on the appearance of the
first part of Froude's Bemains early in 1838, in which the
Eeformation was avowedly condemned, and its condemnation
tacitly ^ adopted by the two editors, Newman and Keble, Mr.
Ward acknowledged to hiraself the dhection which his ^dews
were taking. "Frora that time," he wrote to Dr. Pusej',
" began my inchnation to see truth where I trust it is." The
final influence which determined his conversion was the series of
lectures by Newman on " The Scripture proof of the doctrines
of the Church," pubhshed afterwards as Tract 85. Newman
in these lectures dealt with the phUosophical basis of latitudui-
arianism on the one hand, and of the Anglo-CathoUc view of
the Church on the other, with a power which did not faU to
I Letter to Dr. Pusey quoted in Chapter VIII.
2 I say "tacitly" because their avowed acquiescence first appeared in the
Preface to the second part of the iJmaiJW published in the following year.
G

82 CATHOLIC INFLUENCES chap.
give . satisfaction to his new disciple, and to justify on intel
lectual grounds the position which was now invested in Ward's
mind with all the charm of Froude's romantic conception of
Catholic sanctity, the fire of his reforming genius, the unhesi
tating completeness of his programme of action.
The following contemporary recollections supply a few
detaUs of the change, and give graphic and characteristic
accounts of some of the incidental scenes.
Lord Blachford, then Mr. Frederick Eogers, the intimate
friend of Newman, writes from the point of view of the
Tractarians themselves of Ward's gradual conversion : —
" 1 was closely intimate with the Cardinal at the time when
your father was a Fellow of Balliol and either an old bachelor or a
young master of arts. He was a staunch Utilitarian radical and in
Church matters more, I should say, a disciple of Arnold than any
thing else. But the teaching of Newman and Pusey, and even
more of Froude, caught hold of him by its uncompromising bold
ness, by its rejection of the old conservatism, and by what may he
called its adventurousness — plunging forward into the sea of con
troversy on the platform of Church authority with all its corollaries.
He used to attend all Newman's discourses, and ruminate and object.
Then he used to come to me with his objections and queries. What
would Newman say to this ? Would he give up that ? What does he
think of this or that view put out by this or that person ? All this as
a man who wanted to be convinced. At one time I think we used
to walk out together once a week discussing such matters. And I
used to be amused at finding that, whereas in general you have to
soften objections and put in palliatives and concede all that you
can concede to an adversary, with him the most effective method
of persuasion was to put out all that you had to say that was most
obnoxious in its most obnoxious form and admit it all, or allow him
to accept it, as far as you could salva veritate. He shrank from no
premises if only he were allowed all the extreme conclusions from
them. Probably he had other friends whom he in the same
way ' made conduits through which he sucked in oral comments
on the public Tractarian teachers of the day. I had this ad
vantage over the rest, that if he wanted to know what New
man meant by a particular utterance or how far Newman would
push a certain conclusion, I could always get from Newman all
he wished to say on the matter. And of course it was a matter
of importance to us all to satisfy and attract men of your father's
stamp. " Before long your father avowedly joined the movement and,
as might be supposed, went forward ahead of it . . . always Ivl

V CATHOLIC INFLUENCES 83
Trpo/uixouTt, and bringing on general actions with a merciless disre
gard of strategy.
" However, before these general actions came on I had found
that as he had left the movement so the movement was leaving me
behind, and had withdrawn from a current by which 1 did not
choose to be carried away."
The Dean of Norwich contributes his recollections of the
more amusing scenes connected with the lectures in Adam de
Brome's chapel : —
" Mr. Newman, then Vicar of St. Mary the Virgin's, was giving
his lectures on ' Eomanism and Popular Protestantism ' in Adam
de Brome's chapel, adjoining the church, and used as a vestry.
To hear these lectures, which were delivered on summer evenings,
before the light faded, was the great intellectual and spiritual treat
of the week. Many undergraduates were attracted to them by the
silver musical tones, the shnple, beautiful English, and the felt
intellectual and moral power of the preacher. Your father and
Arthur Stanley, who, though still an undergraduate, was his bosom
friend and constant associate, the Pylades to his Orestes, used to
sit side by side at these lectures, full in front of Mr. Newman's
desk, and drinking in with open ear and quick intelligence every
word which fell from his lips. Your good father was the most
demonstrative of men — wholly incapable of suppressing any strong
emotion which for the time got possession of him ; and as these
lectures awakened in him the strongest emotions both of admiration
for their power, and (at that time) indignant repudiation of their
conclusions, he put the preacher somewhat out of countenance by
his steadfast gaze, his play of feature as some particular passage
stirred him, his nudges of Stanley, and whispered ' asides ' to him,
('What would Arnold say to that,' etc. etc.). Your father's
manner and gestures were so pronounced that no one in the
congregation could help noticing them ; and it was well known
also that the criticisms, which the demonstrations gave expression
to, were at that time unfriendly. Mr. Newman, however, proved
equal to the occasion, and at the lecture immediately succeeding
one at which Ward had been specially demonstrative, we found the
benches of the congregation turned side-ways (as in coUege chapels)
so that he and Stanley could not, without turning their heads
askew, look the preacher in the face."
Dean Scott,^ who saw Mr. Ward daUy in the common room
at BaUiol, notes some pomts of interest as to the impression
produced on his friends by the change which Froude's Bemains
wrought in his attitude : —
1 The late Dean of Eochester.

84 CATHOLIC INFLUENCES chap.
" The change to Newmanism," ho writes, " was apparently very
'Sudden ; but probably more in appearance than in reality. The
suddenness was like that of a plant which appears above ground
after a period of germination below. For instance, I very well
remember those lectures of Newman's in Adam de Brome's chapel
in St. Mary's, which he and Stanley used to attend assiduously.
They went there avowedly as hostile critics. But I do not doubt
that those lectures were telling on him all the time more than he
himself was conscious of. . . . What I recall most distinctly and
can speak of most confidently is the result produced by the publica
tion of Froude's Bemains (first two volumes). Whether I myself
heard his remarks on them, or whether they were repeated to me
by one who did hear, I cannot venture at this distance of time to
say. I think that I heard them. But anyhow I can speak with
perfect assurance of their purport. They were substantially these :
' This is what I have been looking for. Here is a man who knows
what he means and says it. This is the man for me. He speaks
out.' But though we were amused and gave him credit for having
achieved the feat which the pseudo-scholastic doctor ascribes to the
angels, of passing from one extreme to the other without passiag
through the middle, I do not really think that those words indicated
the actual turning-point. As 1 look back on them they seem to me
to imply that the turn had taken place, but that he was looking for
a pledge on the part of those to whom he was attaching himself
that they were in earnest and knew what they meant."
The appearance of Froude's Bemains was indeed an epoch
in Mr. Ward's life. "The thing that was utterly abhorrent
with him," writes Lord Blachford, "was to stop short," and
this was precisely what the via media with all its attractive
ness had hitherto appeared to do. All this was changed when
Froude's outspoken views were adopted by the leaders. " Out
came Froude," writes Mr. Ward to Dr. Pusey, " of which it is
Uttle to say that it delighted me more than any book of the
kind I ever read." " He found in Froude's Bemains," con
tinues Lord Blachford, " a good deal of his own Eadicalism
(though nothing at aU of his own Utihtarianism or Liberalism)
and it seemed literally to make hira jump for joy."
There was a good deal in Froude's open speech and direct
intellect which resembled Mr. Ward's own characteristics
different as the two men were in many respects. Newman
describes him as "brimful and overflowing with ideas and
views," as having " an inteUect as critical and logical as it was
speculative and bold," as "professing openly his admhation

V CATHOLIC INFLUENCES 85
for Eome and his hatred of the Eeformers," as " dehghting to
think of the saiuts," " having a vivid appreciation of the idea
of sanctity, its possibility and its heights," "embracing the
principle of penance and mortification," "being powerfuUy
drawn to the medieval Church but not the primitive." AU
this might be said with great trath of Mr. Ward himself The
boldness and completeness, the uncompromising tone of the
Bemains took hold of Mr. Ward's imagination. Authority in
religion was the avowed principle. A clear, expUcit rule of
faith was thus substituted for perplexing and harassing specu
lation. There was no temporising, or stopping short. Mr.
Ward's dislike of the current system was echoed in the plain
statement which he was for ever quoting. " At length (under
Henry VIII.) the Church of England fell. Will she ever rise
again ?"
Froude's writing, then, recommended itself to Mr. Ward
as having the attribute of Lord Strafford's Irish pohcy. It
was thorough. And in opposition to this Arnold's system
stopped short at every turn. Froude's picture of the medieval
Church was that of an absolute, independent spiritual authority,
direct, uncompromising, explicit in its decrees, in contrast with
the uncertain voice of the English Church with its hundred
shades of opinions differing from and even opposed to each
other. Instead of groping with the feeble light of human
reason amid texts of uncertain signification, he interpreted
Scripture by the aid of constant tradition, and of the Church's
divine illumination. The stand for moral goodness against
vice and worldhness was witnessed in the highest and most
ideal types of sanctity in Church history. The personal
struggle of the ordinary Christian against his evU inclinations
was systematised and brought to perfection in Catholic ascetic
works. The doctrine of a supernatural world and supernatural
influences was not minimised, as though one feared to tax
human powers of behef ; it was put forth in the fuUest and
most fearless manner. Angels and saints, as ministers of
supernatural help, were recognised, and their various offices
in aiding and protecting us and listening to our prayers on
aU occasions forced on the attention constantiy, in the Catholic
system. There was no mistiness or haze or hesitation. All was
clear, complete, definite, carried out to its logical consequences.

86 CATHOLIC INFLUENCES chap.
On the other hand Arnoldism seemed at every turn to
stop short; — however exceUent and true its ethical principles
might be as far as they went. InteUectuaUy it stopped short.
It professed to base all its dogmatic beliefs on the principle of
free critical inquiry. This principle led, as we have seen, in
Mr. Ward's opinion, to scepticism pure and simple — only
Arnold would not carry it out consistently.^ He stopped
short, and aUowed the moral faculties to be indispensable in
bearing testimony to the fundamental truths of religion. But,
Mr. Ward argued, if to the fundamental why not to others ?
If it is true that " Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shaU
see God," why should not superior sanctity give truer and
deeper insight into Scripture ? Why may it not be said that,
as holiness is a witness to spiritual insight in the one case, so
it should be in the other ? And here Newmanisra, insisting on
the interpretation of the saints in all ages, on the accumulated
spiritual insight of centuries, seemed to have strong ground
indeed to rest on.
Again, practicaUy, Arnoldism stopped short. It loved to
keep the supernatural at a distance. It tolerated the mysteries
which, as it were, do not force themselves on practical life — the
Trinity, the Incarnation ; it shunned those which challenge con
stant and immediate attention — the protecting office of angels,
the mysterious gifts of the priesthood, the Eucharistic presence.
And ethically it stopped short. It feared the full gospel
precepts, "Be ye perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect,"
" What doth it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose
his own soul ?" It had no saints. It watered down Christi
anity to what seemed more practicable for the average Christian
than Christ's own teaching. His uncompromising ideal was
modified and partially suppressed.
This Une of criticism is to be found in many of Mr. Ward's
writings at this tirae. The following extracts may suffice as
samples : —
"He (Dr. Arnold) has made . . . the plainest avowal of
orthodoxy on the great truths of the Trinity and Incarnation ; but
it is plain that belief in a Deity once, eighteen hundred years ago,
incarnate, or now in mysterious Trinity governing the world as it
were at a distance and by fixed laws, neither startles the reason
^ British Critic, vol. xxxiii. p. 208.

V CATHOLIC INFLUENCES 87
nor irritates the imagination of minds of a certain class in the
same degree as the news of unearthly and invisible agencies
surrounding their common life, and closely encircling them on all
sides. It may be that disbelief in the latter class of doctrines is
inconsistent with the hearty reception and appropriation of the
former, but it need not perhaps lead ultimately, quite certainly in
Dr. Amold's case it has not hitherto led, to explicit denial of them.
But such truths as the following (by way of example) are either
practically neglected by Dr. Arnold or plainly opposed." ^
He proceeds to enumerate six heads of deficiency — (1)
The full realisation of God's particular providence for indi
viduals. (2) Of the value of simple prayers and obedience
on the part of members of the Church in promoting her true
well-being. (3) The real efficacy of intercessory prayer.
(4) The reality of our communion with the saints departed.
(5) The constant presence and assistance of the angels of God.
(6) The awful and mysterious gift imparted to us in the Holy
Communion. He then proceeds : —
" Now what is the practical effect of Dr. Arnold's omission of
these and similar most consoling and transporting truths? His
sermons will no doubt be of great use to that large class who are
blessed with unfailing health and unflagging spirits, who take with
pleasure to a life of active employment, who have warm and kindly
but not deep affections, or who live naturally \rith a view to excellent
and honourable, yet not romantic objects. These will derive doubt
less great benefit from his preaching ; afterwards they may be led
on by other guides to a fuller knowledge of the gi-acious scheme of
redemption, and towards that specially Christian character of mind
which Dr. Arnold's teaching is, we are persuaded, unable to create.
But it is far otherwise with those whom sorrow or long sickness
have disgusted with the world and with active life, or who, having
warm and affectionate feelings, have been placed by God's providence
where there are no adequate human objects on which to rest them,
or who by their very disposition are ' keenly alive to the bitterly
unsatisfying nature of earthly things,' and are filled with a restless
thirst for some unknown good, higher and more noble than the
world around them, with unceasing aspirations after a scene of
action more fiUed with the romantic and marvellous than at least
the ordinary course of daily hfe can offer them. Such persons as
these will find no rest in the exhibition of Christianity which the
present volume [of Arnold's Sermons] would offer them. The thirst
for something deep and true, to satisfy the cravings which arise from
1 British Crilic, xxx, 304.

CATHOLIC INFLUENCES

the causes we have referred to, in Dr. Arnold's own language, ' will
not be allayed by a draught so scanty and so vapid ; but after the
mirage has beguiled and disappointed him for a season the traveller
presses on the more eagerly to the true and living well.' Yet it has
ever been the especial triumph of the Church in her full develop
ment to reconcile all dispositions to the plain duties of practical
obedience, and that, not by forbidding o» checking such feelings
as those just alluded to, but by; guiding and directing them, and
giving them their full scope in the performance of those very duties.
" Where Catholic Christianity is purely taught, the more gentle
and sensitive vrill be rescued from their tendency to a dreamy and
unsatisfied indolence. There is not one of the many marvels which
it teaches us, that does not in its place both raise the soul to heaven,
and also stimulate and comfort it in its appointed sphere of earthly
toil. Take, for example, that doctrine referred to above, which
Dr. Arnold has pronounced not to be practical, and, therefore, not
revealed in Scripture, viz., that angels are sent forth specially to
minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation — Is not the sym
pathy of angels as much to be enjoyed in the most busy as in the
most lonely scenes ; nay, is it not forfeited by disobedience to the
call of duty ? And the thought of them, in proportion as it is
dwelt upon and realised, will satisfy the needs of the most tender
and most sohtary heart ; not as leading it to rest on them as the
highest and adequate object for its affections, but as united with
other parts of the Catholic doctrine and discipline to train it towards
a habit, differing in kind not in degree from any attainable in the
Protestant schools, both of love of God and the sense of God's love
through His Son.
" And so, on the other hand, the more keen-minded and ardent,
who under Protestant systems, if well principled, are cruelly op
pressed through life with consciousness of deep feelings destitute of
adequate objects whereon to rest, and if not rootedly well-principled,
are tempted to a course of what may be called enthusiastic pro
fligacy, have not been so overlooked by God in His pure Gospel
They need not go out of the routine of daily life in search of the
marvellous and supernatural ; it may be that they have plain duties
to perform, which forbid them to go out of it ; let them only ponder
and meditate on the mysteries which surround them in it. In the
plain homely circle of common duties, their heart is not less the
scene of combat between good and evil spirits than it would be in
the wildest and most daring ventures ; they are not less a spectacle
to angels ; they are not less by every small act of self-denial or
self-indulgence acting for good or for evil on the fortunes of the
universal Church." ^
1 British Critic, xxx. p. 306. In the same essay will be found illustrations of
the other points of contrast noted in the text between Arnoldism and Newmanism.

V CATHOLIC INFLUENCES 89
Again he desiderates " something much more like aa-KTjcn'i "
than Arnold's system supplies in order to attain to the very end
he proposes of doing all for God's glory. " I mean of course,"
he adds, " not chiefly bodUy discipUne, but a watchful and in
cessant contest with our old nature, carried through all the
minutiffi of life." And he instances the careful and systematic
self-examination inculcated by the devotional books of the
medieval Church. Arnoldism, it is tme, advocated a system
of self-improvement refreshingly opposed to the Evangelical idea
of passive surrender to spiritual or unspiritual influences of
which I have already spoken. But Cathohc asceticism was
a more complete antithesis to it. Its work was more systematic
and more thorough.
With respect to the principles advocated by Arnold for the
interpretation of Scripture, Mr. Ward cites a passage from his
sermons which runs as follows : —
"We maintain the sufficiency of private judgment in inter
preting the Scriptures in no other sense than that in which every
sane man maintains its sufficiency in interpreting Thucydides
and Aristotle. . . . And we contend that, as by this process we
discover for the most part the true meaning of Thucydides and
Aristotle with undoubted certainty, so we may also discover, not
indeed in every particular part or passage, but generally, the true
meaning of the Holy Scriptures with no less certainty."
On this Mr. Ward comments at length, and sums up his
comraentary with characteristic vigour : —
"We [Tractarians] maintain that the true sense of Scripture
is handed down from age to age by tradition, and that the wit
nesses to it profess no more than to deliver what they have received;
also that private individuals depend more or less on the word of
those more holy than themselves, who assure us that they go on
continually to find greater accordance between the written and
unwritten word. This is objected to as injurious to the liberty of
the private Christian, as savouring of priestcraft, as disrespectful to
Scripture itself. What does Dr. Arnold substitute? There is a
school of Protestants indeed, differing from [him] on this head not
less than ourselves, who say that reading the Scriptures is as it were
a sacrament, by means of which the Holy Spirit guides each Chris
tian into true doctrine. We cannot encumber ourselves at present
with further allusion to this view ; but we must frankly confess
that, untenable as it is, it seems to us both more religious and
intellectually deeper than that contained in the volume before us.

90 CATHOLIC INFLUENCES chap.
But what does Dr. Arnold and those who think with him in this
ni'atter substitute ? He attacks the prophetical office of the Church
as founded by the Apostles, and gives us as our prophets gram
marians and philologists. Humble believers are to look for
Christian truth from lips, not of those who are better Christians,
but better critics ; not of those who have more .experience in
holy living, but in manuscripts and Greek constructions; not of
those who succeed the Apostles, but of those who succeed ' Person
and Hermann.' 0 most hateful and unchristian tyranny ! Is it
possible to proceed in a tone of calm criticism, however great and
sincere our respect for the writer, when such chains as these are
attempted to be forged for the little ones of Christ, and that by one
who professes especial zeal for their liberty ? "^
But raost of all the purely personal character of Arnold's
system — its entire dependence on his own personality, weighed
on Mr. Ward. It was Arnoldism rather than Christianity.
Newman caUed in the fathers of the whole Christian Church
of all ages as his feUow- teachers and fellow -interpreters of
Scripture. Here was personal sanctity exhibited in mutual
support, corporate sanctity, one saint testifying' to another and
supporting his claims. But Arnold, however great and good,
did not invoke such fellowship, and expounded his views con
fessedly on his own sole authority. On this Mr. Ward wrote
as follows in the British Critic : —
" De Maistre, in speaking of that arrogant pretension to exclusive
rehgious purity so common in Englishmen, and which is certainly
grossly offensive in the eyes of foreigners ; . . . says that the
English seem to imagine ' que Dieu soit incarn6 pour les Anglais.'
So we may say — we hope with no profaneness, and vrith rather a
different application — that, if our author's representation of Chris
tianity were true, we must consider that our religion was founded
for the special benefit of Dr. Arnold, unless indeed all mankind
were counterparts of Dr. Arnold, which they most certainly are
not. But if this seems rather more than he would himself claim,
what remains but a strong presumption that the system whose
wisdom he praises so highly, and which he seems able with un-
dazzled eyes to behold in its length, breadth, and depth, is rather,
little as he thinks it, the unconscious development of his own
rehgious character than the doctrine of the Bible — in a word, that
he makes his system first and then praises it ? " ^
I have now referred to the main causes ascertainable both
'^ British Critic, xxx. pp. 344, 345. = British Critic, loc. cit. 304.

V CATHOLIC INFLUENCES 91
of his dissatisfaction with Arnoldism, and of his acceptance of
the Anglo-Catholic theology; and it seems plain that both Froude
and Newman had their share in the work from different sides.
Froude seems to have aroused his enthusiasm, and given him a
zest for a systera so thorough, and a scheme so drastic, for the
reformation of existing Anglicanism ; whUe Newman's lectures
touched the intellectual springs of his discontent with Arnoldism,
and suggested the lines of that new phUosophy of rehgious
inquiry which he developed later in the Ideal of a Christian
Chv/rch. That this philosophy was consciously adopted by
him in its entirety at the time of which I am writing is not
certain, but traces of it appear in his earliest contributions to
the British Critic, and these must be cited in conclusion as
the nearest attainable account of the inteUectual principles
with which he began his Anglo-Catholic life. They were written
two years after he had joined the party of the Movement.
" Eeal increase,"he wrote, "of spiritual knowledge can be obtained
in one way only ; the more perfect development of the spiritual
life. In proportion, as this advances, the creeds and other teaching
of the Church will acquire a fuller and deeper meaning. The Holy
Scriptures, which contain enclosed within them the same doctrines,
will . . . also more faithfully disclose their general scope and
tendency, the relative importance of their several parts, and their
real and perfect correspondence with that scheme of doctrine which
God entrusted equally with them to the Church's safe keeping,
and which we from the first were bound to receive on faith at her
hands. On the other hand, this advance of the spiritual life can
not proceed equably and healthily without some guide external
to the individual ; he cannot be otherwise preserved from narrow-
mindedness and idiosyncrasy ; from laying undue stress on circum
stances accidental to himself, and overlooking others far more
essential and common to all. . . . Nor can this external guide be
adequately supplied otherwise than by some living source . . . there
fore was the Church set up ' the body of Christ, the fulness of Him
who fiUeth aU in all,' endued with power sufficient, if rightiy
employed, to ensure her purity and faithfulness, and charged, among
other duties, with preserving for her children what may be called the
apostolic atmosphere, in the midst of which she began her being, in
the midst of which the Books of the New Testament were written,
and in the midst of which, therefore, and there only, they wiU
exhibit their genuine colours." ^
This state of things has, however, been modified since the
1 British Critic, xxx. 333.

92 CATHOLIC INFLUENCES chap.
schism of the sixteenth century. StiU it is not as though
it had never been. There remains the accumulated spiritual
knowledge of the Church in the past. And as this was
due to the presence of the Holy Ghost in holy men of old,
so we may look now to holy men of these days to bring
back that Catholic spirit which is essential for understanding
Scripture, and which is our refuge from the uncertain and
insufficient interpretation of private judgment. The doctrine
which supports hohness of life must be true doctrine, even
though good men externally profess heresy. But constant and
consistent hohness will, by degrees, clear the spiritual vision of
teacher and learner ahke, and wUl lead to an expUcit recogni
tion of CathoUc truth. " No matheraatical axiora," he writes,
"is raore certain than this moral one, that where the fruits of
hohness show themselves there is the Holy Ghost, and there
is really true doctrine ; for a doctrine which supports men's
sphitual hfe, the principle on which they live, may very easUy
be true, while the language in which they have learnt to
clothe it may be to almost any extent erroneous and dangerous.
We do not wish to extenuate the evU arising from profession
of false doctrines ; it must to a certain extent — in some more,
in others less — vitiate the principle itself within them ; . . .
[moreover] of this we are weU convinced that, in proportion as
our obedience keeps pace with our convictions, we shaU learn
to appreciate the far higher holiness which has ever, on the
whole, accompanied the profession and expUcit belief of Catholic
doctrine, we shaU fall back on Catholic tradition as feehng it
the correlative of our nature, and shall be rescued from the
delusive and heretical sophisms of the Protestant schools."
It wiU be seen later on how these views developed into
the conception of a stUl liviug and infaUible Church as our
safeguard against the aberrations of private judgment — a con
ception reaUy required to complete the principles here sketched.
The extracts given above were, as I have said, written in
1841, while he still clung in sorae sense to the via media,
and had stUl vague misgivings as to the corruptions of the
Eoman Church. " No one branch," he writes in the same
year, "... retains the faithful image of primitive doctrine ; "
and we have to balance " the excesses of one part against the
practical deficiencies of another."

V CATHOLIC INFLUENCES 93
I have said above that there were attractions for birri in
CathoUcism from the point of view of rehgious tastes, over and
above the more serious elements in his conversion ; and I must
now speak of this further. His love of the ethos of Catholicism,
and for the Catholic liturgy, and his " detestation " of much in
the existing establishment, were very prominent and character
istic features. His feelings on some of these matters of
doctrine and devotion were like physical feelings. When his
mhid was absorbed in any matter of important speculation
there was a similar result. Writing on the difficulties arising
from the apparent unfairness of human probation in many
cases, he says, "it gives me a kind of physical pain to think
of it." ¦ Again there is a story of his discussing the Thomistic
theory of grace, which, he maintained, must, in its extreme
form, lead logicaUy to Calvinism, and of his having afterwards
a nightmare, dreaming that he was a Thomist, throwing off
his bedclothes, and waking up half stified by the sense of
oppression, of deprivation of wUl and power, which the doctrine
implied. And similarly the Anglican comraunion service, beautiful
as he found its prayers, oppressed him from the obligation
it involved of his following at another's pace and in another's
train of thought. He often went to the Catholic chapel
in Spanish Place to mass instead — long before he joined
the Puseyite party. The music and solemn ceremonial raised
his feelings to God, and he could choose his own train of
religious thought and prayer. He considered that for himself
the greatest freedom in the form of his devotions was necessary
to make them profitable. A pubhc prayer, which did not
appeal to him, led to irritation and distractions. A long ser
mon, or too long service not suited to his taste, would " bore "
him so much, he said, that he came out in a state of rebeUion
against God, for inflicting on him something so intolerable,
rather than nearer to God. He did not deny that in hmits
such things might be good as opportunities of enduring
patiently what was irksome. But with his temperament the
irksomeness was in sorae cases so intolerable that such occasions
were purely and simply occasions of irrehgion. The AngUcan
service made lUm often feel so "wicked," he said, that he
abstained from takhig the sacrament. "4f only I might go to

94 CATHOLIC INFLUENCES chap.
the play first," he maliciously said to an Evangelical friend,
" I should feel pious enough ; but the comraunion service
makes me impious." He refers to this subject frequently in
his writings of the period immediately succeeding that of which
I am now speaking. " Eehgious ordinances," he says in the
British Critic, " may be either a support or an oppression ;
either mould the spiritual life or repress it and stunt its growth ;
and so far as they belong to the latter category their very
object is perverted, that object being, not to increase the
difficulties of doing good, but to diminish them. Perhaps one
of the most striking instances that can be named of this abuse
is in the Kirk of Scotland, where the whole external duties
and apphances of religion seem to consist in coming each Sun
day twice to church, in order to hear a long extempore prayer,
and a stUl longer sermon ; of which regulation it is perhaps
not too much to say that some' persons of right rehgious
principles and keen religious feelings might find life hardly
endurable under so heavy a burden."
The so-caUed formaUsra of Catholicism was quite different,
consisting either in the expression of natural feeling on the
part of the congregation, as when the congregation kneel in
silent prayer after Christ's death in the " passion " has been
read on Good Friday, or in the Ulustrative representation in
the hturgy of religious mysteries, which in no way interfered
with freedom in the form of their devotions on the part of the
faithful. " The real fact is," he says, speaking of Cathohc
churches, " that their alleged formahsra, when contrasted with
our practical system, mainly consists in this — that the people
are not restrained by forms, that they are allowed and en
couraged to vent their warm devotional feehngs in such
external acts and gestures as naturally express them, instead of
being bound by harsh and cruel custom to an exterior of
pohte indifference, a cold, cramping, stifling uniformity."
Of the intense satisfaction which he was afforded by the
aspect of the completeness of system in the medieval and
modern Cathohc Church — of the excellent organisation of her
dealings with dogmatic, ascetic, and moral theology, with
pohtical and practical hfe", with aU branches of spiritual and
"worldly vocations, the contemplative temperament, the active
temperament, the various worldly callings, her exphcit contem-

V CATHOLIC INFLUENCES 95
plation of the rules, precepts, counsels to be given in each case,
and of the new satisfaction which this promised to his never-
ceasing apostrophe, " True guidance for loving obedience," — I
shall speak more in detail when treating of The Ideal of a
Christian Chwrch.
From the extracts already given from Ward's writhig, it wiU
have been seen that he did not consider historical investigation
to afford a sufficient basis for the choice of a particular form of
Christianity, any more than he considered the external evidences
sufficient proof of Christianity itself, or the standard arguments
from design and a first cause sufficient proof of God's existence.
But he is equally explicit in each case in allowing some
confirmatory weight to these considerations, when they are
enlightened by the instinctive religious perceptions to be found
in our moral nature. Thus the broad historical argument that
ultra-Protestantism could never have been silently corrupted
into Popery had its effect on him, and on his general attitude
towards the Tractarian Movement, giving it a fresh probability
and plausibility to his mind ; but the personal infiuence of Mr.
Newman, and the appeal to conscience and inteUect alike of
the CathoUc Theology as represented by him, following on
his destruction of the Latitudinarian position, were far more
influential. The details of the historical inquiry were, he
considered, beyond his capacity so far as giving any positive
judgment went, and his trust in Mr. Newman in such a matter
was far more confident than any independent opinion to which
the utmost study would have led him. Indeed history being
one of the subjects on which he delighted to profess total
ignorance and total want of capacity, it is not probable that he
would ever have aUowed that he had a right even to an ophuon
on purely historical grounds. But once he was led to his
new creed by considerations external to the critical study of
history, its consistency with a true view of history must follow ;
and Mr. Newman's account of this view was accepted with
that docility which, in matters on which he did not consider
himself competent, was as remarkable as his almost com
bative independence of thought in matters of abstract specu
lation or of logical consistency. Mr. Bonamy Price, whom he
consulted before taking finally the step of uniting himself to
Newman, was entirely at a loss to understand this. His own

96 CATHOLIC INFLUENCES chap.
mind being of a most opposite description, he was unable to
look on Ward's procedure in leaving the historical side entirely
to another — the aspect of the case most prominent in his
own views of reUgion, and in which he had adopted aU the
old-fashioned Protestant prejudices — as anything short of
dehberate self-deception. Ward was, he thought, captivated
by Newman, and therefore had determined to join htm. If
facts did not square with Newmanism tant pis pour les faits.
He writes the following recoUections of his interview : —
" I received a letter from Ward which stated that he was on
the point of changing his religious views, but that before carrying
out the change he wished to discuss with me the religious elements
involved in this grave matter. He hoped, therefore, that 1 would
be willing to receive him at Eugby as my guest for a week which
would allow time for a thorough examination of the principles
at issue. I replied that it would give me great pleasure to
welcome him at my house and to do my best to carry on the dis
cussion, ... so accordingly he came.
The first day passed very pleasantly, and the discussion pro
ceeded smoothly. On the second day, to my infinite surprise, Ward
broke out suddenly with the remark, ' Had 1 known beforehand
the treatment I was to receive here I should never have come.' I
was thoroughly taken aback. I exclaimed, ' Have 1 been rude or
discourteous, my dear Ward? I had not the slightest intention
of being so, but if I have I will ask for your forgiveness most
sincerely.' ' Oh, dear no,' he rejoined, ' but you have been emi
nently disagreeable. ' . . . Undoubtedly his remark was true ; I
had been very disagreeable and 1 could not help it. ' But why
and how? I had discovered that he had come down, if 1 may
say so, to play a trick literally, not on me but on his conscience.
He had resolved under the inspiring influence of Newman's preach
ing to adopt his view of religion, but he had neither time nor
inclination to analyse the problem to the very bottom, so it
occurred to him to go down and have a talk with ' that Protestant
Price.' He would say to himself that his arguments were all
rubbish, and so he would be able to effect the conversion with
greater ease and confidence to himself On making this discovery I
saw clearly what had to be done. I resolved to personate that
conscience which he was trying to silence. I put myself in its
place and asked those very questions which he wanted to shirk.
I said to him, ' You assert that a certain fact occurred, and a cer
tain doctrine existed at the verj' beginning of the Church different
from the opinion held in the Protestant Church of England ; have
you examined the evidence on which you make that objection 1 '

V CATHOLIC INFLUENCES 97
' Oh, dear, no,' he rephed. ' Then why do you adopt it ? ' ' John
Newman says it is so.' After a while he again brought forward a
doctrine built on alleged fact, which differed from the view taken
in the English Church. Again I asked, ' Have you searched out,
and can you state the evidence on which you contradict the view
you have hitherto held ? ' Again the answer, ' No,' rolled from
his lips, and again he took his stand on what Newman said."
As to the philosophical grounds for his change Professor
Price says that he was obliged to reply to Ward, " You are
threatening me with infidelity." Some more questions
followed, all ending in the same answer. " Therefore I re
marked : ' Then Newman is your sole authority. His word is
the only thing you stand upon. Has he worked a miracle on
which to claim your assent ? ' It was then that he spoke the
angry words which put an end to the whole discussion."
It was a curious instance of intercourse between two men
whose minds lived in different atmospheres. It was as though
a fish and a dog attempted to find a common meeting-ground.
To Ward abstract reasoning was everything, and to Bonamy
Price it was nothing, while the historical questions involved
were all in all to Mr. Price and purely bye-questions to Mr.
Ward. To Mr. Price the statement that Arnold's principles
logically led to infidelity, and therefore must be false, was a
" threat." It did not come before him as an argument. So,
too, the power of Newman's teaching as appealing to the
highest ethical instincts was a whim and a fancy to IMr. Price.
To Mr. Ward it was the voice of God versus human speculation ;
to Mr. Price it was a taste or a prejudice versus dispassionate
reasoning. The view that history was not a sufficiently clear
oracle to speak decisively on such a matter, and Mr Ward's
consequent readiness to be guided through its mazes to a view
accordant with the doctrines which possessed his moral nature,
seemed to his friend to border on dishonesty. The reason
which admitted the limits of its own capacity, was, in Mr.
Price's eyes, no reason. The surrender to a principle above
reason was to him the triumph of unreason. He concludes
his account of the matter as foUows : —
"Ward after this soon joined Newman and his friends, the
Newmanites as they were called. The powerful sermons re
mained masters of the field. Ward submitted his reason to the
H

98 CATHOLIC INFLUENCES chap, v
magic of those wonderful words : the principle that virtue was the
greatest happiness of the greatest number was thrown to the
winds, and Avith the submissiveness of a little child the great
inteUect abandoned a mass of strongly felt convictions, and at once
embraced new and unexamined principles which changed the whole
life of the man. The conversion was moral, spiritual, but in no
sense intellectual. It is generally supposed that Ward was the
chief instrument which decided Newman to join the Eoman
Church."

CHAPTEE VI
EAELY FRIENDSHIPS
Me. Waed was ordained deacon by the Bishop of Oxford while
he was still a follower of Dr. Arnold. The question of sub
scription to the thirty-nine articles came before him at this
time as a very practical matter, for he had adopted fully the
liberal theology of Arnold's school, the extremely undogmatic
nature of which it seemed difficult to reconcile with such definite
doctrinal formulae. He reconciled himself, however, to the
situation on the ground that men of such opposite theological
opinions subscribed, as to give the sanction of universal custom
to the most forced methods of interpretation. The Hampden
controversy in 1836, also, called attention to the question of
subscription. Dr. Hampden had, as we have seen, advocated
a relaxation in the religious tests imposed by the University,
with a view to the admission of Unitarians to its degrees and
honours. The censure on his views, promoted by the Puseyites
and passed by Convocation, was strenuously opposed, as we have
already said, by Mr. Ward's party.
When he presented himself for priest's orders, more than two
years later, all was changed. The articles were subscribed in the
Catholic sense, and his interpretation of Protestant clauses was as
unnatural as his previous explanation of many of the dogmatic
clauses. The anomaly and inconsistency of the English Church
were forced anew on his attention, for although the two
extremes were rarely united in one man within so short a time,
yet each of the positions Mr. Ward had adopted was a common
one within her pale, and neither seemed in the least accordant
with the pnma facie spirit of these formularies.
Ward continued to be Mathematical Lecturer at BaUiol

loo EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
from his election in 1834 until the year 1841. During this
time he formed many friendships both with his pupils and
with brother FeUows which had their effect on his subsequent
career, and of which some account raust here be given. Among
the pupils who were most intimate with him may be named
Arthur Stanley and Arthur Hugh Clough ; and among those
who, though in a lesser degree, were still considerably under
his infiuence were Jowett (now Master of Balliol), W. C. Lake
(Dean of Durham), Coleridge (Lord Coleridge), Northcote (the
late Lord Iddesleigh), Goulburn (Dean of Norwich), and Temple
(Bishop of London).
He appears to have been, in the words of the present Dean
of Durham, above all things " a great centre of inteUectual
hfe" to his pupils.
"From the year 1835 to 1841," writes the Dean, "i.e., during
the whole period of his tutorship at Balliol, no tutor in Oxford
seems to me to have had so much intellectual influence over his
pupils as W. G. Ward. It was no doubt in some respects an in
fluence of a peculiar kind, and was perhaps mainly due to his extra
ordinary intellectual activity and animation ; for these were so
great that even when a friend or pupil entirely declined to follow
him to his practical conclusion he was for a time held, as it were,
in the tight grip of his logic; and his points were so forcibly and
unhesitatingly put — though sometimes it might be said paradoxi
cally — that they left their traces upon many of us for life. I
should add that this was more strongly felt in Balliol than in the
rest of the University. It was the few who lived familiarly with ¦
him over whom he obtained this strong intellectual influence ; on
the rest of the University his infiuence was rather that of the ideas
which he scattered broadcast. . . . His relations with some of his
pupils, especially Stanley and myself and afterwards (still more
closely) with Clough, were almost solely those of an intimate friend.
Both Stanley and Clough he indeed absorbed to an extent which
was far from popular vrith their friends. His whole life may he
said to have consisted in his conversation, and to us younger men
it was to a wonderful extent powerful and attractive. One might
almost say that he was the last of the great conversationalists, — at
least I have never met any one at all like or equal to him since —
and held a place in a different sphere, and with much younger men,
like that which S. T. Coleridge occupied in the eyes of Frederic
Maurice and Sterling, at Highgate."
His powers of discussion had had exceptional training in
his undergraduate days. "He had developed," writes the

EARLY FRIENDSHIPS

Dean of St. Paul's, "in the Oxford Union and in a wide
social circle of the most rising men of the time, including
Tait, CardweU, Lowe, EoundeU Palmer, a very unusual dialec
tical skUl and power of argumentative statement — qualities
which seemed to point to the House of Commons." But it
was chiefly as Fellow of BaUiol that he exercised these powers
of exhaustive debate so freely on the phases of religious opinion
which I have already described. " He might have been one of
the earliest of the Broad Churchmen," continues the Dean of
St. Paul's, " he might have been a Utilitarian foUower of Mr.
J. S. Mill. But moral influences of a higher kind prevaUed,
and he became in the most thorough-going, yet independent,
fashion a disciple of Mr. Newman." And the various first
principles and consequences, involved in these different schools
of thought, were forcibly and openly pressed on the attention
of the conservative Oxford of fifty years ago.
With his friends — equals and pupils alike — he discussed
constantly every conceivable subject, grave and gay, human
and divine. This habit continued in its measure through Ufe ;
but there are indications in the recollections of his friends
of a certain diminution of his unreserve in this respect after
he had joined the Tractarians in 1838. Before that time he
used not unfrequently to shock his companions by the freedom
with which he would discuss questions of religion. And this
openness was stimulated by the strong element of intellectual-
ism which pervaded his religious belief, and his consequent re
duction of everything to first principles. The frank debates
he entered on as to what grounds we have for considering
Scripture to be inspired, as to the arguments for God's exist
ence, nay, as to the imperative nature of the moral law itself,
seemed to many rationalistic and irreligious. What he con
sidered ordinary candour they looked on as profane. "He
was a rationalist," Mr. Bonamy Price plainly says in referring
to those days. Mr. Wynell Mayow tells me that he used to
advocate such an alteration in the blasphemy laws as would
allow of the very freest discussion among inteUectual men con
cerning all religious and irreligious theories. It may readUy
be imagined that this temper of mind was startUng aud up
setting to the old-fashioned Churchmen; and Mr. Ward did
not improve matters when, on being remonstrated with for thus

I02 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
attempting to settle with the human reason matters belonging
to the province of faith, he abruptly asked, " Pray, then, can
you teU rae the difference between faith and prejudice?"
After he joined Mr. Newman he was far more particular in
avoiding language or habits which any could criticise as profane.
The whole idea of edification by outward example never be
came very congenial to him, but it was noticed that he brought
himseU to attempt it far more after he had joined the Move
ment. He became, too, generally more careful about externals.
It was observed that he took more pains with his dress —
although to the end of his life such endeavours did not meet
with any high degree of success.
As to his moral influence over his pupils — which, in spite
of his opposition to all that savoured of the " sanctimonious,"
seems to have been very real — there was no lesson which he
loved more to impress upon them than what Catholic de
votional writers call " purity of intention." The Dean of
Durham speaks of the influence of his own example in impress
ing this lesson — from " his candour, his singleness of purpose
... his high example of purity and religious sincerity." He
taught his pupils to look at success in the schools or even in
the career each had chosen for life, as quite secondary in com
parison with elevating and purifying the character. Intellec
tual excellence, keenly as he appreciated its pleasures, never
commanded his respect except in that department — large
enough, it is true, — in which it was employed in throwing
light upon the great moral problems of human hfe, or on the
moral nature of individuals. Great as was his incidental
inteUectual influence, he never wearied of insisting that in
tellect was a means and an instrument, not in itself an end.
Mr. Ward Ukewise raade direct endeavours to bring rehgious
influences to bear on aU the undergraduates with whom he at
all came in contact. And he was ably seconded in his en
deavour by the Eugbeans at Balliol, who had already imbibed
Arnold's ethos, and also by the high-minded and religious tone
of many of the other Fellows. Tait, Scott, and himself ^ used
as each freshman came up to arrange amongst themselves that
^ Mr. Ward, although as mathematical lecturer he had not ex officio a share in
this work of supervision of the undergraduates, was asked by the tutors to co
operate with them in it.

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 103
one or other should look after his moral and religious training.
The mentor so appointed asked his proteg^ to breakfast to
meet a good set of undergraduates, and thus gave the newcomer
every chance of falUng into good hands. If the young man had
good stuff in him the plan generally succeeded ; but if, after a
time, it was evident that he preferred to go his own way, and
to keep clear of the tutor's influence, he could of course do so.
Those who did in this way surrender themselves to Ward's
influence, and became his occasional walking companions, seem
almost universally to have preserved a grateful remembrance
of the benefit they thereby gained. Lord Coleridge, writing to
him forty years later, says : — " I never think of those old-days
at Balliol and of the kindness I had from you, and of the
benefit I believe I got from you, without a glow of heart. I
never have forgotten those walks and talks and never shall
forget them ; " and Professor Jowett, Mr. Lonsdale, Dr. Temple
(now Bishop of London), and many others bear a simUar testi
mony. And it is remarkable that such intimacies and infiuence
in many cases lasted after very wide divergencies had gi'own
up between him and his friends in matters of Ecclesiastical
opinion. This was notably the case with Stanley, Jowett, and
Tait. Mr. Ward never would allow any such divergence of
opinion to obscure his view of the excellent qualities of char
acter which he admired in those from whom he differed most.
Long after he had identified himself with the most ultra form
of Newmanism, and Stanley had adopted a scheme of hberalism
more extreme than that of his master Dr. Arnold, Ward, when
taken to task for keeping up such an intimacy, by a friend
who refused to believe that he could have real moral sympathy
with one who was so far from what he considered " the truth,"
replied that such moral sympathy was in truth the great bond
between them ; that it was not a mere fascination of intellect
or manner, but Stanley's " extreme and unusual shnpUcity of
character, joined with very strict conscientiousness according to
his lights," which appeared to him " so attractive." ^
But whUe his influence seems to have been enthely for
good over those whose danger lay either in flippancy and want
of seriousness, or in worldhness and personal ambition, and whUe
his hearty and undisguised contempt for such faiUts acted as a
1 In a letter to a friend, dated January 1845.

104 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
powerful moral tonic on them, it was not simply beneficial in
other cases. An anxious over-scrapulous mind was in danger
of being upset by the root and branch destructiveness of
Ward's phUosophical speculation, and in some cases he un
settled such minds in their rehgious belief without being able
afterwards to convince thera of the soundness of the Catholic
creed, in which he himseK ultimately found the antidote to
scepticism. This was the case with one of the two men with
whom his friendship was closest and his intercourse most un
ceasing — with Arthur Hugh Clough. The sceptical element in
Ward's views never affected Stanley, but on Clough it produced
serious and lasting results. Stanley was, indeed, at one time
captivated by the principles of the Movement, and it was Ward's
opposition which kept him back frora making common cause
with the Newmanites.-^ In the event, however, when Ward
himself had made up his mind to join them, Stanley was fairly
launched on his intellectual career, and had adopted fixedly
the views which his subsequent history confirmed and de
veloped. One who has every right to speak with authority
on the subject writes : " I suspect from Stanley's whole char
acter that the adhesion to Newman would have been a very
temporary one," and certain it is that in fact neither Ward's
Anglo-Catholicism nor his scepticism obtained any permanent
footing in the mind of his friend. Archbishop Tait gives his
own account of this in a sketch of Stanley published in Good
Words : —
" When Stanley first arrived," he writes, " Ward was a devoted
disciple of Dr. Arnold, ready to push every one of his theories with
remorseless logic to any conclusion however startling ; and it soon
aj)peared that he startled himself, and, like many others since, was
ready to make a sudden bound from limitless speculation to the
narrowest bonds of ecclesiastical authority. Fortunately he did not
convince Stanley, who was thrown greatly in his intimacy, either of
the accuracy of his sceptical inferences or of the propriety of the
antidote by which he sought to neutralise their effect.
" It used to be said that Ward's logic was irresistible if he only
had a fact as the foundation on which to construct his argument.
... It might naturally have be.en expected that Stanley, subjected
to an influence so potent as Ward's, would from the vein of poetry
in his nature, from his love for all that is picturesque, as well as
^ See Letter from the Dean of Durham, Appendix C.

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 105
his susceptibility to the enchantment of every old historical scene
reproduced, have yielded to the prevailing spell It was a time
when Newman reigned supreme in the University, and captivated
the most promising of its youth by the freshness of his persuasive
fancies, clothed in the purest and most forcible style of writing and
of speech. The very appearance of the man had in it something to
attract and subjugate, and seemed to carry his admirers back to the
ages in which his spirit lived, and which he sought to reproduce in
a modern world.
"It is remarkable that these powerful influences altogether
failed to attract Stanley. . . . His own early training in a Whig
household, in which liberalism was the very breath of the whole
family ; his connection from his boyhood with all that was eminent
in the Liberal camp in politics ; the far deeper influence of the great
religious Liberal chief to whom he owed his intellectual training ;
something also in his own nature abhorrent from the then fashion
able ' doctrine of reserve ' which draws an unfair distinction between
esoteric and exoteric teaching ; all these combined to secure him."
With Arthur Hugh Clough it was otherwise. He came
under Mr. Ward's influence at a time when his conversion to
Newmanism was imminent, and the tutor put upon his pupil
raore of the pressure natural to a partisan than could have
found place in his early intercourse with Stanley, when his
opinions were comparatively undecided. Both the hues of
thought apparent in Mr. Ward's discussions had their effect on
Clough, but in the wrong order, and in the wrong relative pro
portion. The Newmanism which saved Ward from scepticism
was the line which first influenced Clough ; the scepticism was
the stronger and later force of the two. The history of this
intimacy deserves to be gone into at some length, both from
the interest attaching to Clough's remarkable genius and
character, and from the influence on his own moral life which
Ward always attributed to the friendship. With the single
exception of Newman, whose reign had then hardly begun,
Mr. Ward was not so deeply attached to any of his Oxford
friends as to Clough, and of course his relations to the two
men were opposite in character. He was considerably New
man's junior and his disciple; whereas Clough was his pupU,
and for a tirae tended to adopt his ethical and rehgious
views. To the very end of his hfe he spoke with the tenderest
affection of Clough, although the latter's sceptical development
in later days led to a divergence between them, and their

io6 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
paths in life separated. After Clough's death he wrote to
Mrs. Clough, who had asked him to send her some memorials
of their Oxford intimacy : " I infer . . . that you and he
were under the impression of my affection for him having
passed away. There cannot be a greater mistake ; my heart
sweUs now when I think of him." There was to the very end
a strange mixture in Mr. Ward's feehng about him, of admira
tion and love for his noble and straightforward character with
pain at the later phases of his religious history. Indeed, in
one of his letters he vindicates the latter by an appeal to the
former. He avows his intolerance towards Clough's free
thought, and maintains that Clough would approve of such
intolerance as an integral part of the rehgious position Ward
had honestly adopted. " For," he writes, " he was always
forward in vindicating the paramount claims of what one
honestly regards as vital truth." He adds, with much feeling,
" I am often tempted to think that these deep divergencies
of principle are the greatest evUs and sufferings of life."
Their friendship began immediately on Clough's coming
up to Oxford. In one of his first letters written from Balliol
to his friend, J. P. Gell, in January 1838, he says, " I am
great friends with Brodie, and still more so I think with Ward,
whom I like very much," and for a time their sympathy in
elevation of character and in their high view of the purpose of
life, was a sufficient bond to counterbalance the effect of such
intellectual differences as existed between them. Ward loved
the freshness and delicacy of Clough's genius and dehghted in
his society. He often recalled the happiness of his first visit
to the lakes made in Clough's company in 1840. Clough, he
used to say, interpreted scenery for him. Ward loved natural
scenery almost as he loved music, though his eye was not
accurate and he could not explain the features which struck
him. When first he and Clough came in sight of Grasmere,
coming suddenly upon a view of the lake from behind the hiUs,
Ward was fairly overcome and burst into tears.
For a time their intercourse continued in unclouded peace,
but gradually the element of phUosophical scepticism in Ward's
view of religion — his destruction of the old-fashioned natural
theology, his denial of its sufficiency to give intellectual con
viction as to the very first truths of rehgion, began to teU on

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 107
Clough, and to set his naturaUy speculative mind thinking
anxiously; while the principle of religious knowledge which
Ward substituted, did not finaUy commend itself to him. The
result was great perplexity on his part. The current comment
in Oxford when Clough and Ward were seen walking constantly
together, was : " There goes Ward mystifying poor Clough,
and persuading him that he must either beUeve nothing or
accept the whole of Church doctrine."^ For a time, as I have
said, Clough tended towards the Tractarianism to which Ward
was attaching hiraself; but he ended by rejecting it without
ever recovering the peace of such religious convictions as had
been shaken in him.
The following selections from Clough's letters at this time
give some evidence of the anxiety which this phase of his life
caused him : —
"If you were to come here," he writes to a Cambridge friend
in November 1838 "(as 1 hope you will do after your degree is
done with), you would at once have Ward at you asking your
opinions on every possible subject . . . you can enumerate ; beginning
with Covent Garden and Macready, and certainly not ending thi
you got to tho question of the moral sense and deontology. I
don't quite like hearing so much of these matters as I do, but
I suppose if one can only keep steadily to one's work (which I wish
I did) and quite resolve to forget all the words one has heard, and
to theorise only for amusement, there is no harm in it. Hawkins,
Provost of Oriel, in a very good University sermon last Sunday on
the ' Duty of Private Judgment ' as opposed to the right, seemed to
say that undergraduates were to mind their Latin and Greek and
nothing else, or nearly so."
Again, a little later, writing to another friend at Cambridge,
he says, " I truly hope to escape [in the long vacation] from
the vortex of philosophism and discussion whereof Ward is the
centre ; and I assure you I quite maharise you at Cambridge
for your Uberty from it."
Mr. Ward himself, looking back thirty years later at those
days, wrote the following account to Mrs. Clough of his general
impressions of Clough's character and of his own influence
upon him : —
" You ask me to send you some reminiscences of your husband's
' I quote this from a private letter of the present Dean of Westminster.

io8 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
Oxford life, at the time when he and I were most intimate. It is
a subject to which I can do no kind of justice, and I cannot indeed
give any true account of it whatever without saying more about
myself than I at all like. I will say nothing, however, about
myself except what is absolutely necessary for the purpose of illus
trating (so far as I knew it) Clough's habitual state of mind. I so
entirely lost sight of him afterwards (as you well know) that I shall
write as though I knew nothing whatever of his subsequent career.
I never read any of his works, because there was no sufficient
reason for my doing so, and 1 feared they would give me pain ; nor
indeed have I any trustworthy knowledge at all of any part of his
career subsequent to his undergraduate days. I will speak of him
therefore exclusively as I then knew him.
" Certainly I hardly met any one during my whole Oxford life
to whom I was so strongly dravm. 1 saw clearly, indeed, from the
first how far wider were his powers and perceptions than my own,
and how large a portion of his character there was (including its
whole poetical side) with which, from my narrowness, I did not
come into contact. But I did perceive in him many qualities
which greatly attracted me. They were such as these : — (1) His
unusual conscientiousness, high- mind edness, public spirit. As
regarded himself, his one main desire (so far as I could see)
was to do what he felt to be right, and, as regarded others, to
stand up for the cause of God and of right principle. This latter
view — the duty of making a stand in society for good principles
— was an especial characteristic of Dr. Arnold's pupils. Many
think that he impressed it on them too prominently, so as to ex
pose them to a real danger of being priggish and self-sufficient ;
but certainly I never saw in Clough the faintest trace of such
qualities as these.
" (2) Closely connected with this were his unselfishness and un
worldliness. The notion of preparing himself for success in a
worldly career was so far from prominent in his mind, that he might,
with some plausibility, have been accused of not thinking about it
enough. But his one idea seemed always to be that he should
to-day do to-day's duty, and for the rest leave himself in God's
hands. And, as to unselfishness, his self-abnegating consideration
for others may be called in the best sense feminine.
" (3) Then his singular sweetness of disposition. I doubt if I
have anywhere seen this exceeded. I have known him under
circumstances which must have given him great vexation and
annoyance ; but I never saw in him the faintest approach to loss of
temper. " (4) I will not say that he gave me so strong an impression of
piety and habits of prayer as some other Oxford men gave me, especi
aUy those of the Tractarian school. But at last these things are not

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 109
visible on the surface, and in him there were many signs of devoutness.
It may be thought a small thing, though to me it does not appear
so, but I particularly remember his way of looking at or speaking of
rehgious pictures. He never spoke of them from a merely artistic
point of view, but always in the spirit of one whose mind was
fixed on the realities they represent. Like Dr. Arnold's other
pupils he had far fuller grasp of the New Testament than was at all
common with undergraduates ; but it was peculiar to himself that
he brought so much reverence and devotion to bear on his inter
pretation of it.
" (5) Intellectually, he struck me as possessing very unusual
independence and (if I may so express myself) straightforward
ness of thought. He was never taken in with shams, pretences,
and traditions, but saw at once below the surface. On the other
hand, he was perhaps less remarkable for logical consecutiveness.
But at that time the Oriel fellowship was universaUy accounted, I
think, the best test in Oxford of intellectual power ; and he obtained
that fellowship the first time he stood for it. I took part myself
in examining him for the Balliol fellowship, and I do not remember
to have seen so much power displayed in any examination within
my experience.
"What was before all things to have been desired for him
was that, during his undergraduate course, he should have given
himself up thoroughly to his classical and mathematical studies ;
that he should have kept up . . . the habits of prayer and Scrip
ture-reading which he brought with him from Eugby, but shoidd
have kept himself aloof from plunging prematurely into the theo
logical controversies then so rife at Oxford. He would thus indeed
have unconsciously grown clear of a certain naiTowness of sympathy
with which he naturally commenced his Oxford life, and would
have acquired a general knowledge of what those points were
which at that time were so keenly debated around him ; but at the
same time he would have been saved from aU injury to the gradual
and healthy growth of his mind and character. It is my own very
strong impression, though I cannot expect you, my dear Madam, to
share it, that had this been permitted his future course of thought
and speculation would have been essentially different from what it
was in fact. At all events the experiment was not tried. I fear
that, from my point of view, I must account it the great calamity of
his life that he was brought into contact with myself. My whole
interest at that time (as now) was concentrated on questions which
to me seem the most important and interesting that can occupy the
mind. Nor was there any reason why they should not occupy my
mind, considering my age and position. It was a very different
thing to force them prematurely on the attention of a young man
just coming up to college, and to drive him, as it were, peremptorily

no EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
into a decision upon them ; to aim at making him as hot a partisan
as I was myseff. My own infiuence by itself might not have done
much, but it was powerfully seconded by the general spirit of Ox
ford society at that time, and by the power which Mr. Newman
then wielded throughout the University.
" The result was not surprising. I had been prematurely forcing
Clough's mind, and there came a reaction. His intellectual per
plexity for some time preyed heavily upon his spirits ; it grievously
interfered with his studies ; and I take for granted it must have
very seriously disturbed his religious practices and habits. I can
not to this day think of all this without a bitter pang of self-
reproach. " As regards his ordinary habits at the time, since I was a Fellow
and he only an undergraduate, I cannot speak with certainty ; but
my impression is that from the first he very much abstained from
general society. This was undoubtedly the case at a later period,
when his intellectal perplexity had hold of him; but I think it
began earlier. I remember in particular that every day he used to
return to his solitary room immediately after dinner, and when I
asked him the reason for this he told me that his pecuniary circum
stances incapacitated him from giving wine parties, and that therefore
he did not like to wine with others. 1 think also there was a
certain fastidiousness of taste and judgment about him which pre
vented him from anjoying general society.
" The opinion both of tutors and undergraduates undoubtedly was
that there was an unusual degree of reserve in his demeanour which
prevented them from understanding him ; but they all — certainly
all the tutors, and, I believe, all the undergraduates — greatly
appreciated his singularly high principle and his exemplary spotless-
ness of life.
" I have executed my task most imperfectly, and the attempt has
revived in my mind various painful memories. But I am most glad
of any opportunity for showing the deep affection which I retained
for your husband while he lived, and with which I now cherish his
memory." The result of the reaction of which Mr. Ward speaks in
this letter was, as is weU known, that Clough drifted further
and further in the direction of free thought, and though there
are indications in his letters that their friendship did not
absolutely cease so long as Ward remained at Oxford {i.e. until
1845), their fhst close intimacy was at an end. A shght
element of irritation is evident in some of Clough's remarks to
his friends during the latter days of that intimacy. "When I
am talking to Ward," he said to Temple, afterwards Bishop of

EARLY FRIENDSHIPS

London, " I feel like a bit of paper blown up the chimney by
a draught, and one doesn't always like being a bit of paper ; —
so I sometimes keep away from the draught." And looking
back at this period he said in later hfe to another friend,
"Ward was always trying to put me on the horns of a
dilemma ; but somehow I generally managed to get over the
waU." One of their last meetings on terms of intimacy was
described to me by Dr. Bloxam of Beeding Priory. Newman,
Oakeley, Clough, and Bloxam himself dined with Ward at
BallioL Before dinner was over the strained relations between
Clough and his host became very apparent, and Clough was so
evidently pained and distressed by the views of the rest of
the company — all of them members of Newman's school —
that Mr. Ward broke up the party before the usual hour.
As we have seen from the extracts from his letters Ward
felt the separation keenly, and this was one instance of the
very many in his life where he sacrificed the pleasures of per
sonal friendship to what he considered the cause of truth.
A friend of Clough's tells me that it is to this painful diver
gence of opinion after the first years of comparative inteUectual
sympathy that he referred in his beautiful poem. Qua cursitm
ventus — " As ships becalmed at eve, that lay
With canvas drooping, side by side
Two towers of sail, at dawn of day
Are scarce long leagues apart descried ;
" When fell the night, upsprung the breeze
And all the darkling hours they plied,
Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas
By each was cleaving side by side :
" E'en so — but why the tale reveal
Of those whom year by year unchanged
Brief absence joined anew to feel
Astounded, soul from soul estranged ?
" At dead of night theh- sails were filled.
And onward each rejoicing steered —
Ah ! neither blame, for neither willed,
Or wist what first with dawn appeared.

112 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
" To veer how vain ! On, onward strain
Brave barks ! In light, in darkness too.
Through winds and tides one compass guides —
To that and your own selves be true.
" But, 0 blithe breeze, and 0 great seas,
Though ne'er that earliest parting past.
On your wide plain they join again.
Together lead them home at last.
" One port methought alike they sought.
One purpose hold where'er they fare ;
0 bounding breeze, 0 rushing seas.
At last, at last unite them there."
A striking contrast to the absorbing friendship for Clough,
with its painful associations and momentous consequences, were
Ward's intimacy with Jowett, the present distinguished Master
of BaUiol, and his genial relations with BalUol CoUege gene
raUy. Both these relations have been described by Professor
Jowett in a letter to myself.^ The difference between Ward
and Jowett in aU raatters of philosophical and theological
speculation was from the first as marked as theh subsequent'
careers would lead us to expect. After a time, indeed. Ward
considered the points of disagreement so vital that he refused
to discuss rehgious subjects with his friend at all. " He bid
me observe," writes Professor Jowett, "that of late he had
ceased to speak to me of theological subjects because I seemed
to think that there might be some important sense in which
Christianity was true apart from the certainty of historical facts."
Their cordial intimacy, however, was in no way interrupted.
I select first a portion of Professor Jowett's recollections which
relates to their personal friendship, in which the lighter side of
Mr. Ward's character and interests seems to have been the
most prominent, although Mr. Jowett adds that " in this
assemblage of pleasant quahties there was also an admixture
of seriousness which formed the basis of his character."
" AU my personal recollections of your father," writes Professor
Jowett, " are of the pleasantest kind. He was generous, considerate,
affectionate, and rarely, if ever, was he divided from any one by dif-
1 See Appendix D.

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 113
ference of opinion. . . . Few persons in our time have exerted a
greater influence on their contemporaries than he did at Oxford
when he was quite a young man. This influence was due quite as
much to the kindness and large-heartedness of his nature as to the
charm of his conversation and his great dialectical powers. . . . He
was one of the most genial men I have ever known, and a dehght
ful companion. When in health he was always the same, ready to
laugh or join in a laugh with any one. He had a friendly word for
the College servants, with whom he was a great favourite. His
conversation never flagged and was of all sorts. He had a great
variety of jests, anecdotes, stories of his own schooldays, or of his
family, or of persons whom he had known. He was fond of reciting
some mock-heroic verses in Latin and EngUsh which he had com
posed when at Winchester School. He had a knowledge which
was prodigious of the theatre and of theatrical persons and perform
ances, acquired by long habit when he was a boy of going to the pit ;
and he gratefully remembered the numberless " three-and-sixpences "
which his parents had paid for him. This taste continued with
him to the last. He had a great wish to meet Macready, who was
a stranger to him, because he thought they would both derive so
much pleasure from their common reminiscences. He would often
break out into snatches of song, comic or serious, or repeat whole
scenes out of the ' Olympic Devils,' a burlesque performed at the
Olympic Theatre which had a great ran in those days. His fine
voice and his great love of music were expressive of the joviality of
his nature. 'Things serious and profane lay near together in his
mind, but they were not confused ; he was never in the least
degree either coarse or profane, though he might sometimes be
misunderstood. by persons who do not themselves understand a jest.
I admit, however, that he was not indisposed to startle those who
were of a different temper from his own — he had a sort of pleasure
in doing so. He once took me, on a Sunday evening in the middle
of summer, about the year 1839, when his change of opinions was
still recent, to Mr. Newman's church at Littlemore, where he was
to preach. We drove out after dinner and walked home. Two
things I remember on that occasion which were highly characteristic
of him. The sermon which he preached was a printed one of Dr.
Arnold's, but with additions and alterations which, as he said, it
would have driven the author mad to hear. This indeed was true,
for the intention of them was to change the spirit of the discourse
from Low or Broad to High Church, retaining what was common
to both. We walked back to Oxford in the twilight, along the
Iffley Eoad. He was in high spirits and sang to me songs out of
' Don Giovanni ' and other operas, with which his capacious memory
was weU stored. He was not the less serious because he could pass
an hour or two in this way.

114 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
"As some of your readers may wish to know what manner of
man he was in personal appearance, I will endeavour to describe
him. He was about five feet nine in height, dark, but of a cheerful
and handsome countenance, readily breaking out into a smile, un
gainly in his movements, and uncommonly stout for his age. He
was very disorderly both in his dress and his apartments. The
tables in his room, never well furnished, were covered with books,
pamphlets, papers, tea-things, writing materials, etc. Once or twice
he made an attempt, like other disorderly persons, to clear his
Augean stable, but it only resulted in sending to the binder a few
loose books and papers which were bound up together without
regard to their subjects, and labelled 'Sermons, Operas, etc'
These labels were declared by one of his friends to be symbolical of
himself . . .
"I have already said he was full of mirth and jollity; even
when in pain he was ready to laugh and make others laugh all day
long. His sayings and doings were in the mouth of every one, and,
as I have compared him to Socrates in his dialectical powers, I
would add that he was like Falstaff in his love of making fun. It
wUl be understood that neither of these comparisons is to be taken
quite literally. He was also ' of a most noble presence,' and his
laughter, if the Johnsonian test be applied to him, was 'by no
means contemptible.' "
Not less interesting is Professor Jowett's sketch of the
BaUiol College of fifty years ago and of Ward's relations with
it, and his description of the celebrated Dr. Jenkyns, the then
Master of Balliol, the subject of many of Ward's favourite
stories, but the object, nevertheless, of his sincere regard — a ;
regard which was never really impaired by the many passages
at arms between them which wiU be recorded in the sequel of
this narrative.
" Though [your father] was attached to Balliol College," says
Mr. Jowett, " and had an extraordinary memory of the ways of the
place and of all that was said and done there in his own time, he
could never be persuaded to revisit his old haunts ; he was not in
Oxford, I think, after he left the Enghsh Church. But between
the years 1838, when I was elected a Fellow of BaUiol, and 1845,
during term time 1 used to see him daily. . . . My (contemporaries
and friends in those days, Arthur Stanley, B. C. Brodie, Hugh
Pearson, Arthur Hugh Clough, the Bishop of London, the Deans of
Durham and Norwich, Lord Coleridge, Constantine Prichard, and
others who were his friends as well as mine, though of different
ages, were all, like myself, several years his juniors.
" The Fellows of Balliol at that time were a very united body,

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 115
and not undistinguished. (1) There was John Carr, the Senior
Fellow, a refined gentleman and scholar, full of humorous sayings
and out of the way learning, but fanciful and eccentric. He was
believed to have been disappointed in love, and the disappointment
seemed to have left a mark upon his character. He was grave and
solitary. He used to laugh sadly as if he were taking himself to
task for ever indulging in mirth. He was a sort of person who, if
he had lived two centuries earlier, might have been the author of
Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy. He would read aU the morning,
and after dinner bring out of his treasure-house some quaint saying
or curious anecdote, which he found or pretended to have found in
a recondite or unknown author.^ He could scarcely be said to
have studied with a purpose. (2) Next to him on the list of
Fellows was Frederic Oakeley, an elegant writer and a great lover
of music, much respected by us. He became a member of the
Eoman Church about the same time as your father, and led
the life of a saint among the Catholic poor in London. (3) Ten
years younger than either of these, and a contemporary of your
father's, was A. C. Tait, who had been a scholar and exhibitioner,
and was a Fellow and Tutor of the CoUege, fuU of sense, humour,
and kindness, — a shrewd Scotchman, as he was sometimes thought,
who at that time (between the years 1835 and 1842) devoted to the
College the great qualities which afterwards made him eminent in
the world. From early days it was predicted of him that he would
become Archbishop of Canterbury. He was one of the few by
whom high preferment was never sought, and to whom it did no
harm. He was always kind and tolerant, and had something of
the statesman in his nature. He never forgot an old friend, even
when differences of opinion might have made it convenient to drop
him. In his later years, when Archbishop, he used to pay an
annual visit to the College, and to preach in the College Chapel.
(4) There was J. M. Chapman, a good man, meek and gentle, but
not at all learned or able, and rather prejudiced. (5) P. H. S.
Payne, a man of a noble and simple character, remembered by few,
for he died early; an Ireland Scholar, and a friend of the late
Professor Halford Vaughan, and the present Dean of Christ Church.
He was of unusual stature. (6) And I must not forget the late
Dean of Eochester, afterwards Master of the College, who was very
kind to me in early life, an excellent man, though not liberal or
enlightened, and a distinguished scholai-, possessing stores of infor
mation on a great variety of subjects, — too much given to punning,
but also a real humourist. He was the author of many ingenious
^ " One of his inventions which I happen to remember is worth preserving :—
' Vera sunt vera ac falsa sunt falsa. At si ecclesia dixerit vera esse falsa ac falsa
esse vera, tum vera sunt falsa ac falsa sunt vera." This oracular saying he
brought out with groat seriousness as a quotation from Bellarmine."

II 6 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
mots, and famous for a copy of Greek Hexameters in which he
described the Heads of Houses going to the installation of the
Duke of Wellington ; these admirable verses were long remembered
and quoted in the University. These were all our seniors, and
most of them your father's contemporaries, with whom he held
many an argument in the Common Eoom, and like Socrates in the
Symposium, never, I think, was worsted by any of them. There
were two or three other Fellows, men who have left very pleasant
recollections of themselves, such as (7) Lewis Owen, and (8) James
Lonsdale, — the latter an excellent scholar and teacher, with whom
he was less acquainted. In those days the conversation in the
Common Eoom used to fiow fast and freely, for several of the
Fellows were good talkers in their different ways. On one Sunday,
soon after I was elected, I remember [your father's] bringing his
father to dine with us, 'the great Mr. William Ward' as he is
still called in cricketing circles. On that Sunday it happened that
his son had been preaching in Chapel on the subject of Apostasy,
which led the elder Mr. Ward to discourse to us of the political
Apostasy of some of his parliamentary friends. On another
occasion Dr. Arnold was entertained by us in the Common Eoom.
Your father had formerly been his friend, and had lately attacked
him with considerable asperity in the British Critic, so that the
relations between them had become rather strained, and the con
versation was carried on with difficulty. Visits to the Common
Eoom, made by Mr. Gladstone, Lord Dufferin, Lord CardweU, a
former Fellow, and other distinguished persons, are also remem
bered by me.
" In attempting to pourtray the Balliol of fifty years ago, I must
not forget the figure of the old Master, who was very different from
any of the FeUows, and was held in considerable awe by them. He
was a gentleman of the old school, in whom were represented old
manners, old traditions, old prejudices, a Tory and a Churchman,
high and dry, without much literature, but having a good deal of
character. He filled a great space in the eyes of the undergraduates.
' His young men,' as he termed them, speaking in an accent which
we all remember, were never tired of mimicking his voice, drawing
his portrait, and inventing stories about what he said and did.
There was a time when at any party of Balliol men, meeting in
after life he would have been talked about. His sermon on the
' Sin that doth so early beset us,' by which, as he said in emphatic
and almost acrid tones, he meant 'the habit of contracting debts,' ;
wiU never be forgotten by those who heard it. Nor indeed have
I ever seen a whole congregation dissolved in laughter for several
minutes except on that remarkable occasion. The ridiculousness
of the effect was heightened by his old-fashioned pronunciation of
of certain words, such as ' rayther,' ' wounded ' (which he pronounced

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 117
like 'wow' in 'bow-wow'). He was a considerable actor, and
would put on severe looks to terrify freshmen, but he was reaUy
kind-hearted and indulgent to them. He was in a natural state of
war with the Fellows and Scholars on the Close Foundation ; and
many ludicrous stories were told of his behaviour towards them, of
his dislike of smoking, and of his enmity to dogs. It was some
times doubted whether he was a wit or not : I myself am strongly
of opinion that he was. Some excellent things were undoubtedly
said by him, but so fertUe was the genius of undergraduates that,
as in some early histories, it is impossible to separate accurately
what is mythical from what is true in the accounts of him. One
evening he suddenly appeared in Hall, to strike terror into a
riotous party, and found that the Master's health had been proposed,
and that an undergraduate was already on his legs, returning
thanks in his name. He was compared by John Carr to a famous
old mulberry tree in the garden, well known to all Balliol men ;
while of another mulberry tree newly planted Carr said ; ' And
that is Tait.' He was short of stature, and very neat in his
appearance ; the deficiency of height was more than compensated
by a superfluity of magisterial or ecclesiastical dignity. He was
much respected, and his great services to the College have always
been acknowledged. But even now, at the distance of more than
a generation, it is impossible to think of him without some humor
ous or ludicrous association arising in the mind. Your father and
he had a liking for one another, which was, however, in some de
gree interrupted by their ecclesiastical differences."
Two other friendships of Mr. Ward's Oxford hfe must be
spoken of — with Oakeley, afterwards Canon Oakeley, and Tait.
After the election of Ward and Tait to Balliol Fellowships
in 1834 the three men were on the most cordial terms, aU of
them interested in college matters, and in promoting the
religious and intellectual welfare of the undergraduates. But
when Mr. Ward began to attach himself to Mr. Newman a
fresh element arose. Oakeley came to sympathise with
Ward's new line, while Tait was as strongly opposed to
Newmanism as any one in Oxford. The resiUt could not
but be painful at that eventful time, when feeling ran so high
on both sides. On one side there was the unparaUeled per
sonal loyalty which Newman inspired, joined to aU the
enthusiasm which a religious movement in the spring of
its life is calculated to arouse ; and on the other the stUl-
living Protestant hatred of popery — living even when the
Established Church seemed otherwise in decay. The dread

Ii8 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
increased daily that, under the specious plea of a return to
primitive customs, the superstitions of Eomanism, with their
fataUy corrupting and corroding tendencies, were graduaUy
gaining a real footing in the Enghsh Church. Mr. Ward's
influence over the undergraduates, too, led many of them
in the Catholic direction, and Mr. Tait had to witness the
" perversion " of some of his most attached friends and pupUs.
StUl, by the unanimous testimony of their contemporaries, the
cordial personal friendship remained untouched. Constant
pubhc and theological opposition on both sides went hand in
hand with constant signs of personal regard and respect.
Tait had conjointly with the other tutors arranged to invite Mt
Ward, who in his capacity of mathematical lecturer exercised
no immediate supervision over the undergraduates, to accept
an equal share of responsibihty in this respect. After the
appearance of Mr. Ward's first pamphlet in defence of Newman's
celebrated Tract 9 0, at the instance of Mr. Tait the charge was
withdrawn; and after the appearance of the second, again at the
instance of Mr. Tait, Mr. Ward was deprived of his office of
mathematical lecturer. Both steps Ward accepted without the
least particle of ill-feeling. It was natural, he considered, that
Tait should think his influence over undergraduates dangerous,
and wish to check it ; and considering that the opinions of the
Master, Dr. Jenkyns, were simUar, he held it to be a duty on
Tait's part to act as he acted, and a duty on his own to resign
his position. In a letter to the late Dean of Eochester he
speaks thus of his resignation of the first position : — " From
the moment the Hebdomadal board ^ had expressed an opinion,
I felt it a plain duty to give back to Tait and Woolcombe the
charge they had entrusted me with. It is not the writing, —
the holding views so pointedly condemned by one's own Head
makes it to my mind a plain duty to act as I acted. Tait
happened to speak to me on the subject before I dhectly
mentioned it to him : but he knows that from the first I
intended nothing else." On the other hand a httle later on,
when the university authorities proposed to censure Ward for
" bad faith " in his subscription to the Articles, Tait came for
ward in his defence and pubhshed a pamphlet^ in which he
^ The details here referred to are given fully in Chapter VIII.
^ Mr. Tait's pamphlet, as will be seen, was opposed to Ward's views, and

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 119
bore the strongest testimony to Ward's sincerity and straight
forwardness. Dean Lake speaks as follows of the relations between the
two men at that time : —
"Ward's chief sphere of conversation was the BaUiol common
room, and there, for some three years after I first knew it as a Fellow,
he and the late Archbishop Tait had their almost daily and always
most friendly battle. They were in different ways equaUy able,
and, I may add, to their old pupils equally loveable. Tait, a born
Scotchman, was perhaps of all men in Oxford the most direct anti
thesis to Newmanism, and we, some of us, charged him with being
too unimaginative to understand Newman's character. He saw,
too, better than most of us how things were reaUy going, and was
by no means happy in finding that many of his most attached
pupils were drifting away from him. This might in ordinary men
have led to feelings of theological bitterness between him and
Ward ; but it is a proof of the large and generous character of the
two men that nothing of the kind ever occurred. And even after
Tait had first roused the university authorities to attack Newman
by his protest against Tract 90, and Ward had been turned out of
his tutorship for his pamphlet on the occasion, the friendship of
the two men continued as before — each reaUy admired and valued
the other." In the year foUowing the events connected with Tract 90,
Mr. Ward had an opportunity of testifying in a very practical
way his undhninished regard for Mr. Tait. Mr. Tait became
candidate for the Eugby Head-mastership on Dr. Amold's
death, and Mr. Ward gave him the most warm and high testi
monial, which was from many circumstances calculated to be
influential in securing the success with which Mr. Tait's candi
dature was in point of fact crowned. It was couched in the
foUowing terms : —
From the Eev. Wm. Geo. Ward, M.A., FeUow, and late
Mathematical Lecturer of BaUiol CoUege, Oxford.
To the Trustees of Eugby School.
Balliol College, Oxford, 29th June 1842.
My Lords and Gentlemen — I have great pleasure in giving
a testimonial to Mr. Tait, as a candidate for the vacant Head-
mastership of Eugby SchooL I acted as his coUeague in the work
countenanced their public censure, but contained the strongest testimony to his
uprightness of character.

120 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
pf tuition in this college for a period of nearly six years, and| had
the opportunity of observing closely his mode of performing the
duties of coUege tutor. On the other hand, I was slightly
acquainted with Dr. Arnold, and very intimately with some of his
most distinguished pupils, and for some time past have taken the
deepest interest in all that concerns the welfare of Eugby School.
As being well acquainted then both with Mr. Tait's qualifications
and vrith the general system pursued at Eugby, I have no hesita
tion in expressing my opinion, that Mr. Tait is peculiarly well
fitted to carry on there the system pursued by the late lamented
head-master. Mr. Tait unites to great tact and sobriety of judg
ment a manly and unaffected straightforwardness both of manner
and of purpose, and also an unusual degree of kindliness and
affectionateness ; both which latter qualities are, as I should think,
and as Dr. Arnold's example seems to prove, singularly calculated
to procure influence over the young. And from my knowledge of
what has taken place in this college under his tutorship, I should
not only entertain a confident expectation of his obtaining such
influence in a school like Eugby, but I should also have a full cer
tainty that the one great object for which he would exert it would
be the training of those committed to his charge in habits of
religion and strict conscientiousness. I may add, from the unani
mous testimony of those who have attended his lectures here, that
he has to a great extent the art of imparting information to others,
and of exciting and sustaining their interest on subjects naturally
dry and distasteful ; and I believe him, moreover, to be a sound and
accurate scholar. In conclusion it may be as well to say that I
have no reason to suspect myself of undue partiality in Mr. Tait's
behalf, as it has happened from various circumstances, partly from
our wide difference in theological opinions, that I have never stood
to him at all in the relation of intimate friendship. — I have the
honour to be, my Lords and Gentlemen, your obedient servant,
William George Ward, M.A.
Fellow, and late Mathematical Lecturer
of Balliol CoUege, Oxford."
The bond between Ward and Oakeley grew far closer, as
might be expected, when they had thrown themselves heart
and soul into the Tractarian cause. Mr. Mozley speaks of
them as " as much associated as Damon and Pythias, Castor
and PoUux, or any [other] inseparable pairs." Though the elder
of the two, Mr. Oakeley seems at this time, from his gentle
and more passive nature, to have been to a great extent
guided by Mr. Ward. Oakeley was in those days incumbent
of Margaret Street Chapel, the great centre of Puseyism ia

EARLY FRIENDSHIPS

London. Here Ward frequently preached, and otherwise bore
a part in the great work done for the cause of the Anglo-
Catholic movement by Mr. Oakeley in the metropolis. All
the arrangements at Margaret Street were submitted to Mr.
Ward's approval down to the smaUest details, and it was by
his advice that Oakeley abstained from preaching "advanced"
dogma, confining himself mainly to discourses on moral and
spiritual subjects. Oakeley, moreover, adopted to the fuU the
theological principles which Ward developed, when towards the
end of his Oxford career he headed the " extreme " party, and
chivalrously identified his own with Ward's views when Con
vocation degraded him in 1845. One who was in those days
a friend of the two men recalls some words which he over
heard in 1843 or 1844, which tell their own story of the
friendship between them. Ward's doctors were for a moment
uncertain whether he had not on him a mortal complaint. He
said to Oakeley, " It seems doubtful whether I shaU Uve through
the year," and Oakeley could scarcely speak at first, and then
exclaimed, " Do not say that. If you were to die the sim of
my life would be extinguished."
Glimpses of the old common room discussions and of the
characteristics of the three men, Oakeley, Tait, and Ward, are
given in the reminiscences of contemporaries. Mr. Lonsdale
has supplied me with some anecdotes, and some interesting
notes of his own impressions. Speaking of Mr. Ward's Ufe in
the common room he writes : " What struck me most was his
wonderful gift of conversation, his determination to push every
thing to a logical end, his delight in argument, liis good temper
in it, his candour, his wUUngness to listen, his kindness to
juniors and inferiors like myself, his joyousness of manner —
partly natural, partly owing to his hope of coming triumphs for
the Church, — his simple devotion to the great cause. . . . He
threw into the common room a life and animation it would not
otherwise have had." The dialectical duel between Mr.
Ward and Mr. Tait seems to have been a never-faihng source
of entertainment before this audience. Graphic pictures are
given by those who were present of trivial events, which seem,
however, to bring past scenes before us. On one occasion Mr.
Tait having three or four times made answers which he deemed
unanswerable, hut getting each time a prompt and effective

122 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
retort, bent on having the last word, goes to the common
room door, fires off his last volley and slams the door before
Ward's counter-fire can reach him. On another he retires
discomfited to put on his surphce, as it is service time, but
bethinks himself in the vestry of a crushing answer, goes back,
surplice and all, to the common room and discharges it in
triumph. Mr. Ward turns it inside out in a moment, and
adds, amid the roars of laughter which foUow his reply, " If
you hadn't anything better than that to say it was hardly
worth while coming aU the way back in your surphce." And
again there is the story of a chmax in one of the arguments, in
which Mr. Ward, " dialectically invincible," is deprived of
his power of repartee by the intervention of unexpected physi
cal forces. The argument is at its height, the attention of aU
concentrated in tum on the next move on either side, Mr.
Ward coraes across the room at a point in the debate, saying,
" This is splendid ; I wUl show you that you have committed
yourself to three different statements totaUy inconsistent with
each other." As he says this he leans his whole weight on
the back of a chair. Before point two has been registered on
his fingers, a crash is heard. The intellectual and physical weight
has been too much for the chair, which collapses abruptly and
prostrates the victor in his moraent of triumph.
Speaking of the friendship between Oakeley and Ward,
Mr. Lonsdale writes : " It was the more remarkable from their
difference of manner and gffts — one so impetuous, so logical,
. . . the other distrait, quiet, silent." They were always
associated in the Tractarian "politics," and the element of
eccentricity in both, yet of so opposite a kind in each, seems
to have given a sort of dramatic effect to their intercourse.
The contrast extended to externals. Ward's large figure, heavy
tread, loud voice, hearty laugh, being the antithesis to Oake
ley's spare frame, halting step, shy and reticent demeanour.
If there was a sudden call to arms in the course of the
Tractarian war. Ward would caU out, says Mr. Lonsdale,
" Come along, Oakeley," and would rush out of the common
room. Oakeley would then get up, and " hop " after him.
Evidences wUl appear in the course of this narrative of the
friendship between the two men in connection with their joint
action tn the cause of the Movement. One more wUl, however.

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 123
find its place here as being purely personaL Their relations
after they left the AngUcan Church were for many years less
intimate. Possibly forces similar to those which diminished
Newman's influence over Ward had a simUar effect on Ward's
influence over Oakeley. Church authority may in both cases
have fiUed the place of personal infiuence. Be this as it
may, although there was never any real estrangement between
them, their lives to some extent diverged; but during the
last two years of Mr. Oakeley's life the friendship was renewed
on its old terms, and a year after his death Mr. Ward referred
to him in the preface to his own last publication in feeling
terms. " He has been removed from among us," he writes, " and he has left
behind him (I venture to say) but few who exceed him in humility,
simplicity, unselfishness, unworldhness. I have a right to speak
because he honoured me with his friendship to the last, and in our
Anglican days we were especially intimate. Though he was much
my senior, together we pursued that course of inquiry which led us
to accept (the then) Mr. Newman as our one master in religious
doctrine ; and together we pursued that course of inquiry which
led us to the further conclusion that Mr. Newman's teaching had
its legitimate issue in the Communion of Eome. Mr. Oakeley
looked through sheet by sheet my Anglican work. The Ideal of a
Christian Church, before it was published ; and when it was con
demned, he identified himself both with the book and its condem
nation. From the first he was just what his friends remember him
to have been at the last : so full of public spirit and so devoted to
public objects that the remembrance of self seemed literally to have
no place in his thoughts. May he rest in peace."
This was written but a year before Mr. Ward himself passed
away, and Archbishop Tait remained the last of the three
friends who had hved during ten years of theh Oxford life
in such curious relations of warm personal regard and keen
theological opposition. They never entirely lost sight of each
other, and in Mr. Ward's last Ulness few things pleased hhn
more than hearing that the Archbishop had sent to Hampstead
to obtain the latest news of him. Tait himself died six months
later, hut not before he had had tune to unite the three names
in a touching tribute to the memory of past days, with which
this sketch of their relations may fitly close. " Two names,"
he wrote with reference to the Oxford school, " rise before me

124 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
as my dearest friends. They both became Eoman Cathohcs
early in these struggles, but through the changing scenes of hfe
I had opportunities — alas ! few and far between — of keeping
up my intimacy with both. One died three years ago, the
other but a few months since. Two more single-hearted and
devoted men I beheve never hved."
One more of Ward's Oxford friendships may be referred to,
— with Edward Meyrick Goulburn, now Dean of Norwich.
They, too, remained to the end on terras of hearty good feUow
ship, though theological differences for a short time kept them
apart. Goulburn in early days was an Evangehcal, and Ward's
freedom of speech on rehgious matters frequently shocked him.
"Ward had a mahcious pleasure," writes Dean Lake, "in
assailing Goulburn, sometimes not over -reverently, for his
intense bibliolatry." StUl theh friendliness was not really
impahed, so long as Ward belonged to any school of reUgious
thought recognised by the Anghcan Church. When, however,
his Eomeward tendencies led Goulburn to regard him as a
traitor in the camp, a coolness ensued, which lasted untU'
Ward's actual conversion in 1845.
The two men had much in common in their keen sense of
fun and in their religious earnestness ; but there was, in the
early days of their acquaintance, a touch of the ultra-decorous
Evangelical about Goulburn in Ward's eyes, and of the hreverent
liberal in Ward from Goulburn's point of view, which prevented
them from thoroughly understanding' each other.
The following recoUections, which the Dean has kindly sent
me, give sufficient indication of the relations between the two,
and form a valuable supplement to the account which has been
given of Ward's general habits, and of his intercourse with his
friends at this time.
" Many of the reminiscences," writes the Dean, " wUl not hear
transference to paper ; they consist of jocose dicta or incidents,
which were highly amusing at the moment, but the sparkle of
which, hke that of some effervescing wine, is gone as soon as they have
been broached, and defies record. Much, therefore, of what I have
to say in the way of bare reminiscences would not be worth putting
down. But I console myself with thinking that the only value to
a biographer of the reminiscences of friends is the light which these
reminiscences throw upon the character of the subject of the
biography ; and that therefore I shall be helping you in the work

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 125
which you have undertaken by exhibiting the character you wish
to pourtray at the particular angle of incidence at which it struck
my own mind, weaving in, as I go along, any smaU anecdotes or
sayings which will bear recital. And in doing this I know I need
make no apology to you for not suppressing all notice of those
peculiarities and eccentricities, which especially beset, I think, strong
and vivid personalities such as was your father's. Certainly I
should not have needed to make an apology to him for such out
spokenness. For of all men whom I ever came across, he would
have most earnestly wished his biographer to * speak of him as he
was,' and ' nothing ' to ' extenuate.' ' Show me truly to the world,'
he would say, ' or at least in a way subjectively true — according to
your genuine conceptions of me.' I am not likely to err in the
other extreme, and ' set down aught in malice ' ; for indeed, widely
as we differed in opinion all our life long, I entertained a genuine
and cordial affection for him, and I believe that he also was very
kindly disposed towards me.
"To begin with his inteUectual qualities. One of the most
characteristic of them, and not the least attractive, was his excessive
and almost unbounded rivacity of mind. I do not know that I
ever saw this feature so strongly exemplified in any other character.
Hence his strong appetite for amusement, and his keen recognition
of the truth that amusement in some form or other is as essential
to the healthfulness and elasticity of the mind, as food and rest and
exercise are to the well-being of the body. Hence his desire and
endeavour to reclaim from their alliance with the world and sin the
drama and the opera, and his occasional indulgence in those forms
of recreation — an indulgence which none of those who knew him
well, and conversed with him on these subjects in his serious
moments, wUl ever suppose to have tainted his mind (a very
peculiar and abnormal one) with a single wrong thought or feeling ;
had it done so, his whole soul would have risen up in indigna
tion against the amusement, and he would have renounced it for
ever. No ; it was simply that his mind was so constituted that he
appreciated intensely what all of us appreciate in a measure, the
relief which is to be had, under the strain of life's cares, and the
pressure of hard work, — (he was always, I think, a mental hard-
worker, a severe, and patient, and candid philosophical thinker) from
a hearty ringing laugh at some good joke, or a piece of well-written
pathetic fiction, or a strain of music, or a song ; which last were
his great luxuries. The vivacity and impatience of dulness, of
which I am speaking, pervaded his whole character and influenced
his religious views. I have reason to think that among other
graver objections which made the Communion in which he had been
baptized and ordained distasteful to him, one was that our ' Book
of Common Prayer' does not supply variety enough, and is too

126 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
monotonous in its services (a tenable opinion, of course, but one in
which I by no means concur) and that the Church of England, as
her system is usually acted out by religiously -minded persons,
puts too great a strain upon the rehgious instincts of her children.
I remember that the greater variety of the Breviary Serrices
attracted him, and was the subject of his admiration, long before he
made up his mind to quit the communion of the English Church,
and that one day, when he was lauding this variety, I observed that
there might be a confusing and perplexing variety, aud that such
seems to have been the case before the Eeformation, when some of
the ' Churches within this Eealm ' followed ' Salisbury use, some
Hereford use, and some the use of Bangor, some of York, some of
Lincoln ' ; but that our Eeformers thought that they had done a
good work in so rearranging and simplifying the services of the
Church, that ' now from henceforth all the whole Eealm should have
but one use;' — to which your father replied with his usual bonhommie,
rubbing his hands briskly, and his countenance beaming with good
humour, ' Yes, and a precious dull use they took care it should he
too.' Exuberant gaiety and vivacity of mind may doubtless be a
snare, and be allowed to degenerate into levity, and frivolity, and
even into irreverent and profane sallies. From remarks which your
father made to me from time to time, I believe that he was aware
of his own danger in this respect, and of the necessity of being
more than commonly strict with himself in regard to those periods
of devotion, both public and private, which he felt himself bound
to observe. But it will not be denied that the gaiety and vivacity
in question — the brightness and hilarity of early youth, con
tinuing apparently undiminished in later life, — is in itself, apart
from its excesses and extravagances, a most attractive characteristic.
I should say that in him it was held in check by two great correc
tives, one, the hard work which (more or less) all his life long — as
tutor of Balhol first, and in later days as Professor at Old Hall
College, editor of the Dublin Beview, and a thinker and writer on
metaphysics — he was in the habit of doing, and doing with all his
might ; the other, the deep religiousness of his character, to which
I shall advert further on. But his chief intellectual characteristic
was, I think, his absolutely fearless reasoning out of principles,
without ever allowing sentiment to stand in his way or modify his
conclusions. I trace here a remarkable resemblance between him
and one of the greatest men of our day — ^Mr. Gladstone. In the
appendix to Archdeacon Denison's pamphlet on Mr. Gladstone there
is an interesting and touching account of a conversation between
the late Bishop of Lincoln and that statesman, in which the bishop
expostulated with him on the disappointment felt by churchmen as
to his policy, from which they had expected so much. ' He listened
very patiently,' said the bishop, in recounting the interview to the

'VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 127
archdeacon, 'and made me two very remarkable rephes.' The
second reply runs as follows : — ' " My dear ' bishop ... all the
points you have specified, and others like them, are intuitions to you
and men like you, who have sucked them in with their mother's
milk. They are your foundation, that upon which you build. My
case, let me say, is a different case. I was born and bred in an un
influenced habit of life ; and in my case every one of these things
is the produce of the working of my own mind simply." ' Now,
utterly dissimilar to Mr. Gladstone as your late father was in
certain mental features (your father's mind, for example, brimming
over with humour, of which there seems to be a great lack in Mr.
Gladstone's), in this they strike me as having been remarkably
alike, the guidance at all times of both of them by pure, hard
reasoning. . . . And yet how large a share in any sound conclusion
must be allotted to all the moral considerations denoted by the
word sentiment — regard to natural affections, associations of the
past, habitual and prevailing ways and modes of thought, etc. !
" Your dear father in the intenseness of his personality (I never
knew any personality equally intense) caricatured several principles,
capable of being maintained in moderation and vrithin limits, one
of which was the power of reasoning to settle all things. ' Why
should a man be fonder of the members of his own family,' I have
heard him say, ' of father, mother, brother, and sister, than of other
people, or of his own country than of other countries ? ' If you
replied, ' Nature dictates it,' he would say, ' But if my nature doesn't
dictate it, you cannot prove that I am bound to this affection.' If
one hinted at the Fifth Commandment, he would immediately
acknowledge the obligation arising from this precept to show aU
respect and deference to parents (including, according to our Lord's
own exposition, the duty of assisting and supporting them) ; ' but
there is nothing here,' he would say, ' about liking them better than
others. Let a man follow his natural bent in that respect' . . .
He cared not much how things went practically, so long as the
theory how they should go was correctly laid down. Hence, whUe
quite firstrate (from his wonderful dialectical power) as an academic
disputant (oh, that I could have heard him at the meetings of that
Metaphysical Society, of which I take him to have been the life
and soul, which at least has collapsed since his death ^), he would not
have made a good member of Parliament. The settlement of
principles too much interested and absorbed him to let him care
much about practical results. This was to be regretted ; for with
a single fact, with which not unfrequently his friend Arthur

' This is not strictly accurate. Many attributed the collapse of the Meta
physical society to Mr. Ward's retirement from it through ill-health ; but it
came to an end h(^ore his death.

128 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap
Stanley armed him, he would perform wonderful dialectical exploits,
and do terrible execution upon his controversial antagonists. It
was like arming Samson with the jawbone of an ass.
" There was so large an element of the humorous in your father,
and so many things that I have to tell of him will inevitably pro
voke a smile, that 1 must on no account leave unnoticed the stern
moral stuff which was one chief ingredient of his character. The
vices of public schools excited in him a horror, which persons
without his moral stamina would have thought excessive and un
duly severe. He has often described to me the awful immorality
of Winchester when he was at school there, and once said in a
state of great excitement of a scene which he had witnessed there,
' If that isn't the nearest approach to hell of anything upon earth,
I know not what is.' This censure of the moral danger, to which
boys are exposed by being sent to public schools, was not softened,
nor the rigour of it at all abated, as would have been the case with
many men, by the remembrance of happy moments spent and of
happy friendships formed there, nor by loj'alty to the school itself ;
although it quite consisted with many jocose remembrances of his
own inaptitude for the studies of the place, specially for Latin
verse-making. He used to delight to recite some of the doggerel
which he produced with the help of his ' Gradus,' when his form
had a copy set to them on 'Daniel. in the den of lions.' . . .
" I have often wished that it could have been contrived that
Dean Hook and his life-long friend, Page Wood, who were hoth of
them devoted Wintonians, could have met your father and said
their say to him on the merits of the old school (for the estimate
formed of it by two such men shows that it must have had merits),
and received his reply. No doubt in some circles of our old public
schools, as things were formerly, vice was rampant and shocking ;
but the size of these schools gave room for more than one circle,
and boys were found in them (if I may judge by my own remini
scences of Eton) who recognised the claims of their higher nature,
and acted as if they believed they had souls to be saved. It must,
however, be confessed that this, though much to the credit of the
boys, was but little to the credit of the schools ; for the education
given to boys of the upper classes in old times scarcely embraced
any inculcation of religious truth, until Dr. Arnold (to his eternal
honour be it said) inaugurated a new system, the influence of
which has been felt in every public school in England. Winchester
under Dr. Moberly must have been a whoUy different thing from
Winchester, when your father was at school there.
" But I must now speak of the deep religiousness of his
character, — another feature of it in which I venture to think that
he resembled the great statesman, to whom I have compared him
above. I did not know him in his boyhood; but from what I

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 129
saw of him in later life I can hardly imagine that there ever was
a time, when the religious instinct did not work powerfully in
him. But we know that the religious instinct may and does work
powerfully, even where the mind is not under the empire of reUgious
principle. The religious instinct gives birth to religious sentiment ;
but religious principle has its seat in the will. I should say that
religious principle was much more clearly manifested in your father
after than before he adopted what used to be called Tractarian
views, and became an avowed admirer and disciple of Mr. Newman.
And I will mention an incident which seems to me to indicate this.
In quite early days, when, though indeed he watched the Tractarian
movement with keenest interest, he stood entirely aloof from this
novel form of High Churchism, and felt disposed to be wholly sus
picious and incredulous of it, I happened to meet him in the rooms
of the present Dean of Durham. I forget the subject on which the
conversation turned, but it was one to which it strack me that a
passage in the Psalms applied. ' At all events David thought so,'
said I ; 'for he says so and so ' — quoting the passage. Your father,
who had advocated the view opposite to that which the Psalmist
seemed to support, replied, ' But what of that ? David, I daresay,
was a great fool.' My acquaintance with your father at that time
was quite recent ; and not being in the habit of hearing the writers
of Holy Scripture so spoken of, I was shocked, and showed by ray
manner that I was so. Immediately he apologised (though I was a
younger man than he — indeed one of the attendants at his mathe
matical lecture), and explained that he did not for a moment mean
to question David's moral and spiritual exceUence, but only his
intellectual power. ' Oh, don't mistake me ; I am sure David was
quite heavenly good ; I only wish I were one hundreth part as good
myself ; but a man who is superlatively good may be of course
superlatively foolish.' ^ I should not have thought of putting on
record this incident were it not for the sequel, which to my mind
shows the heightening of your father's religious tone when he em
braced with heart and soul (he was incapable of doing anything by
halves) the views known as Tractarian. Haring asked me to walk
with him one day, evidently with the view of telling me something
he wished me to know, he adverted to his rashness and perverseness
of speech on the occasion (three or four years ago) which I have re
ferred to, and expressed the deepest penitence and humiliation for
it. ' I am afraid,' he said, ' you must have been greatly shocked.

' " I must observe, by the way, that I believe he acquired the habit (so little
in keeping with Holy Scripture itself) of discriminating between moral and
intellectual excellence, as wholly distinct spheres, and having no connexion with
ono another, from Dr. Arnold, under whose influence he was brought at this
period by Arthur Stanley, and other friends of his who had been at Rugby."
K

130 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
and with good reason, for nothing can excuse my having spoken in
that way of a great Saint, who wrote under the inspiration of God.'
These, I think, were as nearly as possible his words. May I add
that I believe it was the deep rehgiousness of his mind which
fenced off from him many spiritual dangers, to which a man of so
speculative a turn of mind, so subtle in argument, so briUiant in
dialectical skill, might else have succumbed ? Apart from this he
might perhaps have ranked vrith those opponents of Theism, whose
arguments, taking them on their own philosophical ground, he has
probably done more to demolish than any other single writer of
the century. But at the very bottom of his heart and soul there
lay this axiomatic truth of all religion, ' Verily there is a reward
for the righteous : doubtless there is a God that judgeth the earth.'
" And now having exhibited the chief points of his character,
as they struck my own mind, I will jot down a few reminiscences
of him at the two periods of his life, at which alone I had any
intercourse with him. These were the period when he was Fellow
and Tutor of Balliol, and the much later period when he lived, at
first close to my church, and afterwards in the Eegent's Park, in
London. Then I had the opportunity of meeting him again, and
had many most friendly, though of course disputatious, conversa
tions with him. Between these two periods I lost sight of him alto
gether, our lots being cast in quite different parts of the country.
" Shall I ever forget when I first heard his name, and heard
it too associated with my own? My father had allowed me to
come up from Eton to try my luck for a BaUiol scholarship. The
examination was over, and the boys, from various schools, were
assembled in the College hall on the tiptoe of expectation to
hear the announcement. At length there emerged from the com
mon room into the hall good, cultivated little Mr. Oakeley, and
the hubbub of eager youthful voices was hushed in a moment.
All of us clustered like bees round Mr. Oakeley, some who could .
not get close enough to satisfy them clambering up on the benches
to get a sight of one who was little of stature. After a generally |
complimentary exordium, probably de riguew on these occasions,
to the effect that, as all had done so well, the Master and Fellows
wished they had as many feUowships and scholarships to give
away as there were competitors, but as only two of each were
vacant, they had been obliged to make a choice ; that choice, he
said, had faUen on Mr. Tait (afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury),
and Mr. Ward for the fellowships, and on Mr. Lake (the present
Dean of Durham) and myself for the scholarships. I have a sort
of dim memory that shortly afterwards, when we had aU streamed
out of the haU, I saw (for the first time) your father in the quad- J
rangle, friends gathering round him and warmly grasping his hand, I
and somebody told me, 'That is Mr. Ward.' Soon after, my

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 131
acquaintance with him was much improved by my being placed in
his mathematical lecture. This was sure to be a first-rate lecture,
the great clearness of his mind specially fitting him to be an ex
positor of pure Mathematics. He made us work problems, etc.,
under his own eye, and came round the room to each of us in tum
to see how we were getting on. One day at an Algebra lecture he
said to one of the men, who was working at an infinite series, and
had just written out the three or four first steps of it, ' Yes, that
is quite right ; just finish writing it out.' Many other pupUs in other
parts of the room detained the tutor so long a time, that he did not
revisit the man engaged on the infinite series for (say) twenty
minutes, when he found that the pupil, under a misapprehension
of his instructions, had not only completed the steps of the series,
but had covered a sheet of foolscap paper with writing out the whole
series over and over again, as if seeking an end of that which was
interminable. The great zest of your father's amusement on this
occasion, shown by the hearty ringing laugh which made every one
look up from his work, was my first introduction to that hilarity
and vivacity of mind upon which I have dwelt above, and of which
I was afterwards to vntness so many exhibitions. If my memory
does not deceive me, Mr. Scott, afterwards Master of Balliol, and
now Dean of Eochester, was elected to a fellowship in the year
after your father and Mr. Tait, and these three together, besides
being all of them unrivalled as tutors, each in his own department,
— Mr. Tait in what we used to call our ' science ' (meaning om-
Aristotle and Butler), your father in Mathematics, and Mr. Scott in
Latin and Greek scholarship, — cordially concurred in endeavouring
to promote the moral and religious welfare of all entrusted to their
charge. They were all full of kindness and consideration for their
pupils, and much esteemed and beloved, but I think your father
was the most condescending of the three. I soon had no further
need of his lectures, being advised by my physician not to read for
mathematical as well as classical honours, but your father did not
lose sight of rae, and often asked me to breakfast and walk with
him. I cannot say for certain (probably the Dean of Durham may
be able to tell you) whether the infiuence which in those early days
Dr. Arnold exerted over him continued after he was admitted to
Holy Orders in the Church of England. Anyhow, it was very
strong while it lasted. He paid visits to Dr. Arnold at Eugby, and
coUogued with him as to the progress of the Tract movement, of
the tendencies of which at first your father, no less than the doctor,
was very suspicious.
" I can teU you httle or nothing about the process of his con
version to what were then known as Tractarian views ; but I
remember that this conversion worked in very harmoniously -vrith
the love which (as stated above) he had long previously cherished

132 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
for the serrices of the Breviary, and also generally for the aesthetic
element in public worship. I should say that this love of the
aesthetic in worship, of the abounding and beautiful symbolism,
for example, which marks your services for the Holy Week, and
specially for Good Friday, was the only symptom of poetical feeling
which I could ever trace in his mind. I never heard him express
enthusiasm about any poetry, unless indeed it were Shakespeare's
plays, which, however, he seemed to appreciate more as pictures
of human life than as poetry; but to religious symbolism — the
dramatic exhibition, so to speak, of Divine Truth through the eye
to the mind, — ^he was at all times keenly susceptible.
"I wish I could tell you something about his ordination as
deacon and priest by the then Bishop of Oxford (Dr. Bagot) (he
was ordained on his fellowship as a title), and about his state of
mind in presenting himself for Holy Orders ; but here again my
paper must exhibit a blank. We undergraduates of Balliol became
conscious of his having become a clergyman chiefly by his reading
the prayers occasionally in the College chapel for the chaplain-fellow.
And his was reading of the prayers such as one only hears once in
a lifetime. I have myself never heard anything equal to it. Of
course he had the great natural advantages of a magnificent ear and
voice, which contributed not a little to the effect. But iu addition
to this, his reading of prayers had every merit which such reaiding
should have ; it was quiet, subdued, devout, wholly free not only
from false but also from undue emphasis, neither too fast to follow
(like college chapel reading, which is apt to degenerate into a gabble),
nor too slow (as occasionally is the reading in parish churches),
simple, and natural, and exempt from affectations of all kinds, and
learing the impression that the reader was deeply conscious that he
was addressing Almighty God. I should add that in reading the
Psalms, he was particularly careful to observe the colon in the
Prayer-Book Version, which is a musical note for the choir, rather
than a stop for the reader. Whether in doing this he had any de
sign of indicating that properly the Psalms should be musically
rendered I cannot say ; but his method had the effect of bringing
out beautifully the rhythm of that noble Version, — and there was
something pleasing to the ear in the correspondence between the
two clauses of each verse which was thus marked."
No account of Mr. Ward's " friendships " would be adequate
which made no reference to two subjects. Which can neverthe
less be only briefly touched on here — I mean his friendship
for the poor and his relations with some of the members of his
own family. In both cases a side of his character was dis
closed which was quite unknown to the world at large.
Of his tenderness for the poor it wUl be enough to say

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 133
that from the time when, in 1838, his rehgious views became
deeper and more serious, he always put by every year a con
siderable portion of his income for purely charitable objects,
and made personal care for the poor one of his duties. Mr.
David Lewis teUs me that he owed his acquaintance with Mr.
Ward to their accidental meeting in a visit of charity. " I
used to visit a sick person," he writes, " lodging in the parish
of St. Mary, and frequently my visit coincided with his. I
did not then know the reason [of his visits], and learned it after
the funeral. She was an old servant in his family, and was
then supported entirely by him, for she was destitute and
friendless." Such acts of charity were common with him, and
he often quoted with approval Dr. Arnold's saying that
personal contact with the poor was one of the great safeguards
against religious coldness and indifference.
In his own family circle — though it was part of his creed
that one does not necessarily care for relatives as such, and
his relations with his brothers and sorae of his sisters were
entirely unsympathetic, — nevertheless the opportunity for inti
mate intercourse did on occasion lead to the deepest and tender
est friendships of his life. These friendships brought out
peculiarly sympathetic traits which were hardly suspected by
his college friends, who looked on him as the incarnation of
intellectuaUsm. Even apart from such instances it was some
times noticed that his conversation was more suggestive and
fresh araong ladies who understood him, than in the constant
warfare of discussion and repartee in which Oxford society
abounded. He had a great contempt for the pedantry of
intellectuaUsm ; and native wit, and native originahty of mind,
even when comparatively uneducated, always refreshed him.
A woman's quick sympathy and ready tact had especial charms
for him when he came across them, and he was impatient and
even hurt at the supposition that his only dehght was in
purely inteUectual conversation, with its technical phrases,
divorced from the feelings and ideas of ordinary human Ufe.
" It is so kind," a cousin of his once remarked, after many
walks and talks in his company, " of a clever man hke you to
iTive yourself the trouble of talking to a stupid woman hke
me." He checked her at once by his reply. " That is the
first stupid thing," he answered, " that I ever heard you say."

134 EARLY FRIENDSHIPS chap.
Of his deeper influence in this connection — wliich ex
tended to some who were not members of his own famUy —
and of the traits in his character which it disclosed, I will
allow two persons to speak who had experience of it, though
theh recollections belong to a somewhat later period. Mrs.
Eichard Ward, a daughter of his old friend and neighbour in
the Isle of Wight, Sir John Simeon, writes as foUows : —
" There are many who can speak far better and more fully than
I can on the higher and graver side of Mr. Ward's character.
What I should like to enlarge on is the exceeding loveableness of
him. His sympathy was so tender, so unfailing, for the small as
well as for the great troubles of life. A casual remark that one
did not feel well, or that some trifling thing was a worry or a dis
appointment, would be met with, ' I am extremely sorry to hear
you. say that,' followed by really anxious questions which one felt
were not asked for form's sake but came straight from his heart.
In fact, I don't think he ever said or did anything for form's sake.
He was absolutely unconventional, and would betray emotion,
whether of joy or of grief, as few Englishmen do. Who can ever
forget his rubbing his hands and his delighted chuckle over some
story that amused him — very likely a story of or against himself,
for he never minded turning the laugh against himself ? His sense
of humour was unbounded. It came bubbling out irrepressibly on
all occasions great and small, and was probably one of his great helps
in all the troubles, spiritual as well as temporal, of his life. . . .
" It was impossible to be shy or reserved with one who, by his
bonhomie, his frank kindness, his childlike simplicity, put himself,
so to speak, at the mercy of the most insignificant of those who
approached him ; though here I should like to mark a char
acteristic which might seem to militate against what I have just
said, viz. the personal dignity which went along with his extra
ordinary condescension, which I think made it impossible for the
most impudent person to take liberties with him.
" But with all his kindness he was ruthless in reproring wherever
he believed that a point of faith was involved. I remember one
day his stopping short in the road when I had made some rash
statement, I do not know on what point. His whole look changed
and with a solemnity of tone and manner which I can never forget
he said, ' I think that any one holding that opinion is in a very
dangerous and anxious state of mind.' . . .
" We, your father's friends, for whom the blank caused hy his
death can never be filled up, can only rejoice that he lived and that
we had the privilege of having known him, for I do not think there
was one he cared for or who cared for him who has not been the
better and the stronger for his friendship."

VI EARLY FRIENDSHIPS 135
The other extract I wUl quote is from a letter written by
his eldest daughter — now for more than a quarter of a century
a Dominican nun — which reveals an impression essential to
the understanding of the character I am pourtraying, but
which it would not be in place in a work like the present to
illustrate in detaU. The almost morbid sensitiveness to which
it refers was doubtless aUied to the intense melancholy of
which I have already spoken ; and neither revealed itself to
the world at large. I have always thought that his hidiffer-
ence to the death of those whom he loved most was in truth
a direct consequence of this keen and constant sensitiveness
to all that was unhappy in his own hfe. This made life in
general seem to him to be soraething which it were well to
be out of.
" Of his tender affectionateness," his daughter writes, " and
delicate sympathy and considerateness I need not speak. No one
could have been more responsive or more intensely sensitive to any
want of response on the part of others. If he did not feel deaths
he was keenly alive to the least want of affection, and so amusingly,
or rather touchingly, grateful for one's love, as though he had no
claim upon it and was so surprised at getting it There must have
been a veritable depth of wounded feeling in his early hfe, for it
always seemed as if there were open wounds in his heart that
wanted continual soothing and anointing. . . . He told me that
until his marriage he had felt a continual heart-bleeding from being
unloved. . . . He said that he never suffered from that particular
feeling after his marriage. Yet it was of him that uncle WiUiam
Wingfield ^ said, ' You would not surely marry Ward ! He is a hard-
headed mathematician.' "
^ William Wingfield, brother of the lady who afterwards became Mrs. Ward,
was Ward's contemporary at Christ Church.

CHAPTEE VII
A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT
1838-41
Mr. Ward openly avowed his adherence to Newman's party
in the latter part of 1838. There was, about this time, a con
siderable accession to the ranks of the party of able men with
directly Eoman sympathies. It was indeed the beginning, as
Cardinal Newman and others have told us, of a new school of
thought — of a moveraent within the Movement. The various
gradations of opinion which had successively dominated the
original party were becoming effete. Mr. Palmer and Dr.
Hook had long disapproved of the Tracts. The Tracts them
selves were within measurable distance of dissolution. Dr.
Pusey had been left behind by the editors of Froude, who
roundly condemned the English reformers. Newman's own
explanation of the via media became, a few months later,
doubtful in the eyes of its originator. In this state of things
Mr. Ward's party commenced its action with a new and
startling programme — scarcely avowed at first, but containing
germs which developed a little later with rapidity, as the new
party gained in influence and numbers. Eome was dhectly
looked on by them as in many respects the practical model ;
the Eeformation was a deadly sin ; restoration to the papal
communion the ideal — even if unattainable — aim. "Your
father was never a High Churchman," Cardinal Newman
writes to me, " never a Tractarian, never a Puseyite, never a
Newmanite. What his line was is described in the Apologia,
pp. 163 seq." And he writes in the passage here referred to,
" A new school of thought was rising, as is usual in doctrinal

CHAP. VII A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT 137
inquiries, and was sweeping the original party of the move
ment aside and was taking its place." It consisted of '' eager,
acute, resolute minds," who " had heard much of Eome," who
" cut into the original movement at an angle and then set
about turning it " in a new direction.
Among the most prominent merabers of this new school
may be mentioned Oakeley, Faber, Dalgairns, John Brande
Morris, James Antony Froude, and Charles Seager. Of Oakeley
I have already spoken, and of the strange history of J. A.
Froude I shall have something to say later on. Oakeley
brought to the Moveraent the gifts of " elegant genius, of
classical mind, of rare talent in hterary composition," as the
author of the Apologia has told us ; an earnestness, simpUcity,
and piety rarely matched, and the weight of high University
standing and of his influence as incumbent of the weU-known
church in Margaret Street.
The gifts and characteristics of the others whom I have
named have been described to me by theh distinguished con
temporary the Dean of St. Paul's. Seager and Morris were
" men of wide and abstruse learning, quaint, eccentric scholars
both in habit and in look, students of the ancient type who
even fifty years ago seemed out of date to their generation, . . .
men who had worked their way to knowledge through hardship
and grinding labour, and in one case under the pinch of poverty,
which had imposed on him for a time the life and task-work
of an usher in a small school ; men not to be outdone in
Germany itself for devouring love of learning and a scholar's
plainness of life. Mr. Morris had in him, besides, a real,
though often grotesque vein of poetical imagination; Mr.
Seager's poetry was signalised only, so far as we know, in a
Hebrew ode at the instaUation of the Duke of WeUington.
But he died not long ago at Florence with a continental
reputation as an Oriental scholar."
Faber " was a man with a high gift of imagination, remark
able powers of assimilating knowledge, and a great richness
and novelty and elegance of thought, which, with much melody
of expression, made him lUtimately a very attractive preacher.
If," the writer adds, " the promise of his powers has not been
adequately fulfiUed it is partiy to be traced to a want of
severity of taste and self-restraint which made him too content

138 A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT chap
with fluency and sweetness ; but his name wiU live in some of
his hymns and in some very beautiful portions of his devotional
writings." Some raay think that his faUure to reaUse the
hopes of the intellectual world as to the future career of the
author of Sir Lancelot, may be traced in part to other sources,
but for which Cathohc London would never have witnessed the
great work of the Oratory, and the name of Faber would not
stand, as it does, high in the list of devotional writers and
spiritual directors.
" Dalgahns's mind was of a different order. ' That man has
an eye for theology,' was the remark of a competent judge on
some early paper of Dalgaims's which carae before him. He
had soraething of the Frenchman about him. There was in
him in his Oxford days a bright and frank briskness, a mixture
of modesty and arch daring, which gave him an almost boyish
appearance ; but beneath this boyish appearance there was a
subtle and powerful inteUect, keenly alive to aU the problems
of religious phUosophy, and impatient of any but the most
thorough solutions of them; while, on the other hand, the
religious affections were part of his nature, and mind and wiU
and heart yielded an unreserved and absolute obedience to the
leading and guidance of faith. In his later days, with his mind
at ease. Father Dalgairns threw the whole strength of his
powerful intelligence into the great battle with unbelief, and
few men hp,ve commanded raore the respect of opponents not
much given to think weU of the arguments for rehgion, by the
freshness, the breadth, and the solidity of his reasoning."
This group of men started from a point of departure
differing entirely from that of the original leaders — Newman,
Pusey, and Keble. With these leaders, as we have seen, the
ancient EngUsh Church had been the first thought. Angh-
canisra was in their eyes the lineal descendant of the Church
of Augustine. Such was the claim of the divines of the
seventeenth century whose via media they professed to follow.
The study of the Fathers and of the early Enghsh saints had,
it is true, led to opinions which were said to tend Eomewards.
But such views were a conclusion ; they were not the original
premises. The Eoman tendency, so far as it existed, was for
the most part against theh inclination, for they disliked and
distrusted Eome.

VII A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT 139
To understand how the tendency first came to exist we
must consider briefly the history of the Tracts. In the first
stages of the Movement they consisted of short addresses on
fly leaves — to which the name Tract was suitably apphed.
I have already referred to the circumstances which brought
them into existence. They were designed to strengthen the
AngUcan Church against the inroads of Popery and of Methodism.
The conception of the Church of England as a branch of the
Church CathoUc — with the con-elative elements of Catholic
doctrine essential to this conception — seemed to be absolutely
dying out, while even Protestantism was not in earnest within
the State Church as it was among the dissenters. This loss of
life and of vital religion threatened to separate rehgious minds
altogether from its pale. The Church was becoming a mere
function of the State, and Erastianism was triumphing aU
along the hne. " A great proportion of the Irish sees," wrote
the editor, "had been suppressed by the State against the
Church's wish," and " scarcely a protesting voice was heard."
" A sense of the dreariness of such a state of things," he con
tinues, " naturally led to those anxious appeals and abrupt'
sketches of doctrine, with which the Tracts opened. They
were written with the hope of rousing members of our
Church to comprehend her alarming position ... as a man
might give notice of a fire or inundation to startle, aU who
heard him, — with only as much of doctrine and argflraent as
might be necessary to account for their pubhcation, or might
answer more obvious objections to the views therein advo
cated." Preserving at first the safe ground of a return to the
Anglicanism of Laud and of the seventeenth century divines, they
maintained, for the most part, that the existingEnglish Church was
" more Protestant than its Eeformers " of the sixteenth century,^
and that a second Eeformation Avas needed to undo the work of
the last 150 years. The wise moderation of the Eeformers was
insisted on ; their preservation in the Church hturgy of the doc
trines of apostolical succession, the Holy Cathohc Church, the
sacramental character of orders ; their equally wise insistence, in
the practical life of Anghcanism, upon a via media between the
formaUsm of Popery and the total overthrow by the foreign
> Tract 41, p. 6.

140 A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT chap.
reforraers of traditional CathoUcisra. Thus, for example, the
total abolition of fasting in the Protestant Churches is censured
in Tract 18, and "the calm judgment of the reformers of our
prayer-books " is eulogised in that whUe " cutting off the abuses
which before prevaUed, the vain distinctions of meats, the
luxurious abstinences, the lucrative dispensations," they still
prescribed fasting. " They left it," says the writer, " to every
man's Christian prudence and experience how he would fast;
but they prescribed the days on which he should fast, both in
order to obtain an unity of feeling and devotion in the mem
bers of Christ's body, and to preclude the temptation to the
neglect of the duty altogether."^ And so, too, it was with
such practices as daily celebrations — the superstitions of the
mass being abolished, but the daily service and commemoration
of the saints preserved, or with devotion to the " real presence "
— the subtleties of Transubstantiation being rejected, but the
essence of the doctrine and devotion preserved.
These doctrines were rendered persuasive by the eloquence
of Newman from the pulpit, and by their expression in the
language of the poet of the Movement — the author of The
Christian Year. The Tractarian theology of the "real pre
sence," for example, is nowhere more simply and beautifully
given than in the Unes : —
" 0 come to our Communion Feast.
There present in the heart.
Not in the hands — the eternal Priest
WUl his true self impart." ^
The Tracts themselves were but the heralds, in the first
instance, of the doctrines — popular sketches, sometimes thrown
into the form of tales, or of short dialogues,
GraduaUy the party gained adherents. Catholic doctrines
and Cathohc practices were adopted, and not merely advocated
as a philosophical or hterary theory. Eigorous fasting, — not
Vincent's fast from Portugal onions, described in Newman's
Loss and Gain, but fasting in true Cistercian form, — auricular
confession, and other elements in the Catholic rule of hfe, were
evidences that the party practised what they preached, and
' Tract 18, p. 7.
^ So ran the lines in early editions. I shall have something to say elsewhere
of their subsequent alteration.

VII A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT 141
the importance of the Movement grew. It was attacked at
length by its enemies, and the character of the Tracts changed
after some fifty had been published. They became sustained
argumentative treatises, and promised to form a deeper and
fuller body of Anghcan theology, based on the hues laid doAvn
by the theologians of the seventeenth century. Controversy drove
the party back on the grounds of their behef Their Cathoh-
cism was denied to be genuine, and they were led to trace
its descent through the divines of the via media from the early
Fathers. The genuineness of the descent had to be made
good against rival claimants, and so the Eoman question came
to the front. Then in 1836 the Enghsh translations of the
Fathers began to appear, and the patristic element in the
theology of the school became stiU more prominent. Newman
has told us that the Fathers led him from the Church of
England to the Church of Eome, and this being so it Avas
inevitable that the patristic tendency in the Tracts should
colour their tone as it coloured the opinions of the editor, and
should pave the way for the altered attitude towards Eome,
and towards the English Eeformers which Froude's Bemains
first made publicly manifest.
With Mr. Ward the progress of thought and the original
premises were, as we have already seen, very different from all
this. Tractarianism did not supply him with reluctant con
clusions in favour of Eome ; on the contrary, it stopped short
his conclusions and kept him an Anglican. He had no dis
tinctive affection for the Anglican Church. He disliked it in
the present ; and he knew nothing of its past. The study of
primitive times was uncongenial to his imhistorical mind.
Nor had he any acquaintance with the divines of the scA^en-
teenth century — BuU, Hooker, Laud, Andrewes, and the rest.
The existing Eoman Church was the avowed object of his
admiration. He was driven, by the inconsistency of Anghcan
ism, and the sceptical tendency of private judgment, to
admire the most thorough and consistent scheme attain
able of authoritative teaching. While Newman passed from
the study of antiquity to the conception of a united Universal
Church, and from that conception to a reluctant doubt of the
lawfulness of separation from Eome, Ward, by exactly an
opposite process passed from admiration for the Eoman Church

142 A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT chap.
to the conception of the necessity of union with the Church
Universal, and hence to a doubt, suggested by the fact that the
AngUcan Church had once enjoyed such communion, as to
whether it might not stiU have it potentiaUy. The hnk in
the past which drove Newman towards Eome in spite of his
love of England, kept Mr. Ward in the Enghsh Church in spite
of the attractions of Eome. The Tractarian teaching, at the
stage it had reached, called attention to this hnk — to the com
mon parentage of the two churches — and consequently it held
Ward back and for a time secured his aUegiance. " I believe,"
wrote his brother Fellow Mr. Scott, ". . . that if Ward is in
reahty what we may caU a Eomanist filtered, the filtration and
not the Eomanism is what he owes to Newman . . . that [he
has] not been brought by the Tracts to the state of mind you
speak of, but on the contrary arrested by them just at the
point, perhaps too near it, when [he was] actually faUing into
Eomanism." ^ And Ward himself speaks in no doubtful terms
of union with Eome as the ideal Adsion which inspired him.
" Eestoration of active communion with the Eoman Church,"
he writes to a friend in 1841, "is the most enchanting earthly
prospect on which my imagination can dwell." His remarks
too on Froude's book — in a letter written in the same year to
Dr. Pusey — indicate the same hne of sympathies. "The
especial charm in it to me," he wrote, " was ... his hatred
of our present system and of the Eeformers, and his sympathy
with the rest of Christendom."
The love of Eome and of an united Christendom which
marked the new school was not purely a love for ecclesiastical
authority. This was indeed one element; but there was
another yet more influential in many minds, — admhation for
the saints of the Eoman Church, and for the saintly ideal as
realised especially in the monastic life. We have already seen
how this element operated in Mr. Ward's own history. Froude
had struck the note of sanctity as well as the note of authority.
He had raised an insphing ideal on both heads ; and behold,
with however much of practical corruption and superstition
mixed up with theh practical exhibitions, these ideals were
actuaUy reverenced, attempted, often realised, in the existing
Eoman Church. The worthies of the English Church — even
1 In a letter to Mr. Tait, then Fellow of Balliol.

VII A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT 143
when sharing the tender piety of George Herbert or Bishop Ken
— fell short of the heroic aims, the martial sanctity, gained
by warfare unceasing against world, flesh, and devU, which
they found exhibited in Eoman Hagiology. The glorying in
the Cross of Christ, which is the keynote to such Uves as
those of St. Ignatius of Loyola and St. Francis Xavier, whUe
it recaUed much in the life of St. Paul, had no counterpart in
' post-Eeformation Anglicanism.^
The state of things which made this directly Eomeward
movement tolerable to any considerable section of the EngUsh
Church was, however, sufidciently remarkable. The Anglican
ism of the party must have receded very considerably from
the views of the early Tracts before such a thing could be
possible. Perhaps two events were especially instramental
to such a preparation : the first was the language used with
respect to the English Eeformers by Newman and Keble, in
the Preface to the second part of Froude's Bemains early in
1839. However guarded and measured the expressions were,
such language expressed a definite view with far-reaching con
sequences ; and the extraordinary weight attaching to Newman's
lightest utterance gave the words additional significance. " The
editors," one passage ran, " by pubhshing [Mr. Froude's] senti
ments ... so unreservedly . . . indicated their own general
acquiescence in the opinion that the persons chiefly instru
mental in [the Eeformation] were not as a party to be trusted
on ecclesiastical and theological questions, nor yet to be imi
tated in their practical handling of the unspeakably awful
matters with which they were concerned." Again, the differ
ences between the Eeformers and the Fathers, both in doctrine
and in moral sentiment, were insisted on by the editors.
" You must choose between the two hues," they Avrote ; " they
are not only diverging but contrary." And certain questions
as to the practical Christian ideal are specified as instances :
" Compare the sayings and manner of the two schools on the
subjects of fasting, cehbacy, reUgious vows, voluntary retire
ment and contemplation, the memory of the saints, rites and
I This general account of the attitude and spirit of the new school is derived,
in substance, from private notes of the Dean of St. Paul's, to which he has
kindly given me access. It is corroborated by the writings of AVard, Dalgairns,
Oakeley, and others, a few years later in the Briiish Critic.

144 A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT chap
ceremonies recommended by antiquity." ^ The conclusion which
though unspoken here, was undeniable once it was suggested —
the conclusion "in these matters Eome has preserved what
England has lost — in these matters we may take Eome for oui
model if we would return to antiquity," could not but gain a
footing in the mtuds of Nevmian's disciples.
The second event to which I have referred was more im
portant in its consequences, though less immediately obvious.
Cardinal Newman refers to it in the Apologia. " [The Eoman
party commenced to act in force] as it so happened," he writes,
"contemporaneously with that very summer (1839) in which
I received so serious a blow to my ecclesiastical views from the
study of the Monophysite controversy." It had come upon
him that the Monophysites of the Early Church were in the
same position as the Anghcans of to-day, and yet the Early
Church regarded them as heretics. The fundamental view
of the via media, the defence of Anglicanism against the
charge of schism by the appeal to antiquity, was shaken.
St. Augustine's words with reference to the Donatists, "securus
judicat orbis Terrarum," struck him with a new force and sig
nificance ; " they decided ecclesiastical questions by a simpler
rule than that of antiquity ; nay, St. Augustine was one of the
prime oracles of antiquity ; here then was antiquity deciding
against itself." Cardinal Newman teUs us that for a moment
the thought came, " the Church of Eome wUl be found right
after all." He mentioned the doubt at the time to only two
persons. One of thera — Mr. Henry Wilberforce — has described
his first intimation of it.^ The awful shock which the bare
thought gave to his foUowers at the time is apparent in Mr.
WUberforce's account. He states that Newman referred to the
new view suggested by St. Augustine's words whUe walking one
day with him in the New Forest. He said that a " vista had
been opened before him the end of which he did not see." He
spoke of the possibihty of joining the Eoman Church, and
WUberforce, " upon whom such a fear came Uke a thunderstroke,
expressed his hope that Mr. Newman might die rather than
take such a step." In the course of the conversation he
debated whether if a hundred of the party saw their way to it,
' See Froude's Remains, vol. iii. pp. 19, 28.
" Dublin Review, April 1869, p. 327.

VII A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT 145
it might not be their duty to join. Mr. WUberforce does not
vouch for his accuracy as to the exact words used, but he adds,
" the deep wound which they branded in the inmost soiU of the
hearer makes it quite impossible that they should not be correct
in substance." The doubt which had touched Newman was, it is true, not
generally known ; but he could no longer speak with the same
clearness and confidence as before, as to the vahdity of the
Anglican position. Such a thought once admitted wovdd at
moments recur, and men whose whole sympathy was \rith
Eome were quick to detect the least symptom of uncertainty.
He felt, as Mr. Wilberforce teUs us, the necessity of giving an
answer to. the interpretation of St. Augustine's saying on which
Wiseman had recently insisted in the Dublin Beview. He saw
the danger of secessions. " I shall have . . . such men as
Ward of Balliol going over to Eome," ^ he said. He met the
difficulty as best he could, and satisfied himself that it was
not fatal. But things were no longer as before. " He never
settled down exactly into his old position," writes Mr. Wilber
force. "Before August 1839 he had always both spoken and
written of the Eoman Church in the strong language of con
demnation which he had learnt from the great Anglican writers,
of whom it must be said that however Catholic on any other
subject, the very mention of the Pope acted as a chemical test
to precipitate in a moment theh latent Protestantism. He no
longer maintained the via media, or attacked Eome as schismati-
cal. His new position was that ' Eome is the Church, and we
are the Church,' and ' there is no need to inquire which of the
two has deflected most from the Apostohc standard.' This is
the view he puts forward in the article on ' The CathoUcity of
the English Church,' which appeared in January 1840, and
was the first result of his restored tranquiUity of mind."
It is plain that this position on the part of the great leader
left Ward a comparatively free hand. If Eome had kept
much which England had lost, there could be no insuperable
objection to learning, so far, from directly Eoman sources.
Each Churcli had lost what the other had kept, and so within
limits each could learn from the other. Ward soon commenced
the study and propagation of Eoman books and manuals of
^ Loc. cU., p. 328.
L

146 A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT chap.
dogmatics, casuistry, and ascetics. The ascetic works were
most of all defensible, as it was in this department that con
fessedly England faUed and Eome succeeded. The high ideal
of the interior life, which had been his chief attraction to New
manism and to Catholicism, was fuUy sustained in its mediaeval
and modern devotional Uterature ; and while many others
betook themselves by preference to the beautiful but more
indefinite lessons of the early Fathers, he preferred their syste
matic application to the needs of daily life by later writers,
and above all by St. Ignatius and the Jesuits. Both in
ascetics and in dogmatics the Jesuits were his favourite reading.
The sphitual exercises of St. Ignatius with their immediately
practical character, theh provisions at every turn for testing
the reality of sphitual advance, theh minute precepts as to the
best method of training the wUl, of uprooting particular faults,
of making the unseen world real by practical meditation, of
keeping a consistent view of life, and bearing in mind in every
action its true supernatural aim and end, — these were adapted
with wonderful accuracy to his own special character and needs.
Then, again, the accurate classification of the various parts
of theological science to be found in the Scholastics, and yet
more perfectly in the later Jesuits, Suarez, Vasquez, Eipalda,
was more congenial to hira than the informal character of the
Patristic theology. He admired the system of logical proof,
categorical statement of objection and answer, careful assign
ment of the sources of theological truth and of the proportion
each bears to the whole body. He loved to have his views
mapped out before his mind, with each connecting link between
first principle and ultimate conclusion neatly and systematically
expressed, and this taste was satisfied to the full by the scholas
tic method. His contemporaries remember, and some of his
letters confirm their testiraony, that he UteraUy buried himself
in the works of Aquinas and Buonaventure, and of the great
Spanish theologians of the sixteenth century, and laid the
foundations at this time of the deep and wide theological
learning which he attained to later.
His sympathy, too, with Eoman habits of outward devotion
increased. At Margaret Street, whither he constantly repahed
to help his friend Oakeley, the Sahits' Days were kept, and the
regular cycle of seasons — feasts and fasts — elaborately observed

vii A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT 147
for those who cared to profit by them. But hi aU this the
ascetic and devotional purposes were the first thought, and
neither he nor Oakeley had any sympathy with the modern
interest in the detaUs of ritual for their own sake. In Mr.
Ward's view the ceremonial of the Church was a grand antidote
against the constant sceptical imaginings to which he was a
prey. At times when the spiritual world seemed totally
unreal, when the difficulties against faith with which, as we
have seen, the material creation abounded in his eyes, tried
him most, it helped his imagination to look at the outward
symbols of great religious mysteries. The doubts were to a
great extent imaginative rather than intellectual, and a remedy
was required appeaUng priraarUy to the imagination. Such
tokens of a visible Church supplied this need. " An invisible
Church," he wrote, " would be a very sorry antagonist against
so very visible a world."
And, again, he looked upon ritual and ceremonial in this
respect as supplementary to the beauties of nature in suggesting
the existence and beauty of the Creator and of the next world.
Conscience gives the first intimation of the spiritual world ;
the Church completes and defines it. Natural beauty gives
the first suggestions of the beauty of God, aiding one to realise
belief in Hira, and the ceremonial and liturgical rites of the
Church complete this office with respect to the whole world of
faith. " The natural man," he wrote, " receives pecuhar and
invaluable religious impressions from objects of external beauty,
and so does the Christian ; but as, on the one hand, his more
highly endowed nature is able to apprehend ideas of a stUl
higher and more mysterious character, so, on the other hand,
he is not left to accidental human agency ; the vast ceremonial,
ritual, liturgical system which is the Church's heritage, the
noble buUding, the solemn procession, the ravishing chant are
to an indefinite extent the suggestions of the Spirit Himself to
the Bride of Christ." ^
The growing popularity of Eoman literature and avowed
admiration for Eoman liturgy naturaUy aroused the suspicions
of the heads of the University and the bishops Avith respect to
the whole Movement. As eariy as 1839 there were symptoms
of uneasiness. Cardinal NeAvman gives an account of them in
1 See BrUish Critic, No. LXVII. Art. I.

148 A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT chap.
the Apologia. The Bishop of Oxford in his charge referred to
the Tracts in terms which showed whither the current of
feeling was tending. Heads of houses dissuaded men from
attending Newman's sermons. One Vice-ChanceUor preached
against the doctrine of the Tracts, another threatened to take
his chUdren away from St. Mary's, and it was said that vice-
chancellors could not be got to take the office on account of
Puseyism. Elements were thus discernible of the storm which
burst in 1841 on the publication of Tract 90, There can be
little doubt that such opposition fanned the flame of the
Catholic Moveraent instead of hindering it. The Heads were —
with the exception of Dr. Eouth of Magdalen — men of little
or no learning, and of incurable narrowness of view. And,
again, the division, at that time so absolute, between senior
and junior members of the University, helped and fostered
misunderstanding. The University Authorities faUed to under
stand either the depth and strength of the forces impelling the
Movement, or the latitude on the Catholic side, which must of
necessity be tolerated if the history of the English Church, and
of the Cathohc party from the first included in it, were im-
partiaUy reviewed. The Eoman tendency was in their eyes
mere sentiraentalism — a hankering after pompous ceremonial,
or a taste for image worship. They had no notion either of
the deep philosophical basis of Catholicism which influenced
the more inteUectual, or of the conception of religious heroism,
expressed in the Uves of the saints and in the monastic life,
which had a deep hold, hkewise, on less intellectual but equaUy
earnest members of the party. That such men should see
in Eome actually reaUsed an ideal of sanctity to which the
Enghsh Church was a stranger, never occurred to them; and
consequently they never seriously considered whether that ideal
should not, for the sake of all parties, be tolerated in the Estab
lished Church. They looked on admiration for Eome as a per
verse whim, with no deep foundation, and treated the party which
was guUty of it rather as a set of refractory schoolboys than as
serious raen. These misunderstandings^ urged the Movement
' That this was the view taken of the attitude of the heads of houses by the
great bulk of the Tractarian party is sufficiently notorious. Its details I have
procured partly from conversations in the past with my father, and partly from
information with which the Dean of St. Paul's has kindly provided me.

VII A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT 149
forward. On the one hand, its opponents were despising and
making httle of what was felt to be deep and earnest ; on the
other, they were showing narrowness and ignorance which
accentuated dissatisfaction with existing authority. Had these
persecuting elements been absent it is possible that the crisis
which came in 1845 might have been at aU events postponed.
But the attitude of those in authority tended all along to drive
the party to the conclusion that the Anglican Church was not
the place for them ; — that they could not reasonably claim as
their mother a Church which refused to acknowledge them.
This state of things was beginning when Mr. Ward joined
the party of the Movement. Dr. Faussett's bitter attack on the
editors of Froude's Bemains in 1838 was, perhaps, the first
signal for war — a desultory war of intermittent skirmishing
until the beginning of 1841, and from that time onwards
relentless and constant.
From the first Ward's infiuence on the party of his adop
tion seems to have been marked. The state of the University,
to which this was in part due, is referred to by Professor
Jowett in his BecoUections, and the general characteristics of
his early influence are graphicaUy sketched in a few sentences
by the Dean of St. Paul's.
" To understand the great influence which, during a few years,
your father exercised at Oxford," writes Professor Jowett, "it is
necessary to appreciate the state of the University. He came
upon a time when the senior members, Avith the exception of Eouth,
the President of Magdalen, who belonged to the previous generation,
and was to us a nominis umbra, were comparatively undistinguished.
Whately and Copleston had been translated to another sphere ;
Blanco White, the celebrated convert from Catholicism, had ceased
to reside ; Hampden, the Eegius Professor of Divinity, had Uttle
influence. It was an age of young men. J. H. Newman was only
about thirty-seven years old, Pusey a year older, your father ten
years younger."
" [Ward] brought to his new side," writes the Dean of St. Paul's,
" a fresh power of controversial writing ; but his chief influence was
a social one : from his bright and attractive conversation, his bold
and startling candour, his frank, not to say reckless, fearlessness of
consequences, his unrivalled skiU in logical fence, his imfailing good
humour and love of fun, in which his personal clumsiness set off
the vivacity and nimbleness of his joyous moods. 'He was,' says
Mr. Mozley, ' a great musical critic, knew all the operas, and was

ISO A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT chap.
an admirable buffo singer.' No one could doubt that haring
Started he would go far, and probably go fast. Mr. Ward was
well known in Oxford, and his language might have warned the
Heads that if there was a drift towards Eome it came from some
thing much more serious than a hankering after a sentimental
ritual, or for mediaeval legends instead of the Bible."
In spite, however, of his Eoman sympathies and tendencies
Ward, for the first three years at least of his membership of
the Tractarian party, had no thought of any change of com
munion. He says expressly in a letter to Dr. Pusey, dated
July 1841, that the idea has never come before him as a prac
tical one. He accepted readUy Newman's conception of the
corruption of the Eoman popular system, and while contendhig
that Eome had preserved to a great extent the true ideal of a
Church which England had lost, and while attracted to the
ascetical, theological, and liturgical aspects of the Eoman
Church, and generaUy to her formal and obligatory teaching
(as he viewed it), he considered that there must be plainer
indications than he could see in the anomalous state of
Christendom to warrant a change of communion. He followed
Mr. Newman in the view that " the English Church was on
her trial." If she could recover her Catholic character, if the
Moveraent continued to progress and to grow, the ultimate result
would be reunion with the Eoman Church ; and it seemed
wrong by any hasty step on the part of individuals to frustrate
so glorious a prospect. Besides he did at first consider that
Eome herself must in some respects change and meet the
Anglo-Catholics half-way, though this idea, which he had taken
in along with the rest of Mr. Newman's teaching, rapidly disap
peared, as we shall see, after the year 1841.
One obstacle, however, had to be overcome against the
tenableness of the position. Mr. Ward's acquaintance with
Eoman theology pressed home to him the fact that by no
possibUity could the Eoman Church ever acquiesce in a scheme
of reunion which involved the surrender of any of her formal
decrees. The articles of reunion in the future must include
tbe decrees of Trent. Popular teaching might be disowned,
devotional practices modified to suit a particular national
character — nay, much of the actual hturgy of the Enghsh
Church could imaginably be preserved untouched, for simUar

VII A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT 151
aUowances were made by Eome in the case of the Greeks and
Armenians ; but formal decrees of the Church must stand for
ever, or she would stultify herself and give the he to her own
history. If there was anything in the constitution and obUga
tory formularies of the English Church inconsistent with the
decrees of Trent, Mr. Ward's position was a false one, and he
could not retain it.
The question of subscription to the Articles he considered
— ^he had perforce to consider it — on his ordination. When
ordained deacon he subscribed them, as we have seen, in Dr.
Arnold's sense, and he tells us^ that even then one of his
brother feUows had a scruple in signing his testimonials. This
led him to look into the matter closely, and the conclusion he
arrived at was that the Articles offered no greater difficulty to
the Liberals than other formularies to other schools of thought
tolerated within the Church. When signing them in NcAvman's
sense on his final ordination he found the difficulty greater, but
stUl persevered in the conclusion that as no one could subscribe
the Church formularies, as a whole, according to their ethos —
for the prayer-book represented Catholic, the Articles for the
most part Protestant views — aU must be content to subscribe
the letter of them honestly, evading here and there the sphit.
StiU the Uberty of interpretation must have its limits, and the
explicit recognition of the doctrines of Trent had not hitherto
been contemplated. Could it be consistent Avith the Anglo-
Cathohc position to admit the compatibihty of these doctrines
Arith the Articles ? Considering the marked line which the
old-fashioned Tractarians had ever drawn between Cathohcism
and Eomanism, considering, too, that a large and infiuential
section among them stiU regarded the Eeformation as a heaven
sent deUverance from the Eoman overgrowths of Cathohc
doctrine, and that Trent was by many taken to be the embodi
ment of these overgrowths, it seemed very doubtful how far
such a view would be tolerated.
Nothing short of this view, however, would satisfy Mr.
Ward's position, and he quickly detected in Newman's attitude
sufficient hesitation on the subject to give him hopes. His
position with respect to the Eeformers and his position with
respect to the Church of Eome were radicaUy different from
1 See p. 179.

152 A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT chap.
Dr. Pusey's, and Mr. Ward's object was to point out and
accentuate that difference. "He was the first," writes Mr.
Lewis, then fellow of Jesus CoUege, " to publish the existence
of a fundamental difference between Cardinal NcAvman and
Dr. Pusey. He was on the side of the former, as indeed were
many others who did not hke to recognise that difference, and
avoided the mention of it. Some were angry with Mr. Ward
for making pubhc that difference, but Mr. Ward was not
moved by that. It was never his habit to conceal anything
of this kind, and we were always raUying him upon his
candour." In the Preface to the second part of Froude's Bemains
Newman and Keble had spoken of " the right and duty of
taking (the Anghcan) formularies as we find them, and inter
preting them, as, God be thanked, they raay be always
interpreted in all essentials, conformably to the doctrine and
ritual of the Church Universal." Ward held that the principle
here implied might be made to cover the view he maintained.
The CouncU of Trent did not necessarUy embody Eoman
popular teaching with all its corruptions : the Articles might
include a protest against such teaching, and yet in being
consistent with the teaching of the Universal Church, they
might be consistent with that portion of the teaching of the
Church of Eome to which Trent had irrevocably committed
her. Ward was already acquainted with Newman, and their
acquaintance graduaUy became a friendship. " Lord Blachford
as much as any one," writes the Cardinal, " made me intimate
with him." In the latter part of 1 840 he was, the Cardinal teUs
me, almost daUy in his rooms at Oriel discussing the prospects
and programme of the Movement. Newman appears to have
seen that with Ward and with others it was graduaUy becoming
a choice between expUcit recognition of this very elastic view
of the Articles, and actual secession to Eome. So at least he
plainly intimates in his letter to Dr. Jelf, pubhshed in 1841.
This was the state of things which led him to write the cele
brated Tract 90. "Ward worried him into writing Tract 90,"
Archbishop Tait somewhat angrily expresses it;-' and the
^ In a diary, the use of which I owe to the kindness of his hiographer, the
Rev. W. Benham.

VII A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT 153
Tract though not ostensibly advocating Ward's views to the
full — for this would have hastened a final division of the
Tractaria;ns into two camps, and would have given the extreme
party the open support of the great leader, — was yet claimed
as distinctly tolerating them. It pointed out that the Articles
were drawn up before the CouncU of Trent, and therefore could
not have been aimed at its decrees ; and that Trent condemned
some of the excesses condemned by the Articles. In his
defence of the Tract Newman said that he had referred to these
points for the sake of others, and he spoke of Pusey's favour
able view of the Eeformers, declaring that " the question " was
in his opinion " quite an open one." In spite, however, of this
olive branch held out to the old party of the Movement, the
Tract was hailed by Ward as a victory for himself and his
friends.^ It was the most directly Eomeward movement of
the leader ; and however qualified and reserved in its mode of
expression, it contemplated without disapproval aU that the
extreme party contended for.
I must, however, reserve for a subsequent chapter an
account of the Tract, and of the storm succeeding its pub
lication, as this was the commencement of a fresh state of
things in Oxford.
There was another phase of the Movement — in the year
preceding the appearance of the Tract — with which Ward was
accidentaUy thrown in contact, though his relations with it were
never deeply sympathetic. The rcAdval of interest in ancient
ritual and architecture, that aesthetic Catholicism which fore
shadowed the modern Eitualism, though it formed no prominent
part of the teaching of the leaders, Avas attractive to another class
of mind. Dr. Bloxam of Upper Beeding Priory, then Fellow of
Magdalene and a close friend of Dr. Eouth, was the centre of this
Movement. He was not a man of speculative tastes, but was a
learned antiquarian and a most genial friend. Ward was on
terms of hearty good feUowship with him, and made through
him his earliest acquaintance with Enghsh " Eoman " Catholics.
Bloxam has been called the "father of Eituahsm," and his
Catholicism was entirely of a different cast from Ward's. The
contrast was perhaps the more marked from Ward's enthe
repudiation — in his customary manner — of aU knowledge of
' See letter to Dean Scott in the next chapter, p. 16".

154 A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT chap.
any detail of Gothic architecture, primitive rites, or ancient
vestments. When Pugin, the great Catholic architect, came
up in 1840 to stay with Bloxam, he was fuU of a project for
new Gothic buUdings for Balliol CoUege. Bloxam introduced
htm to Ward, taking him to his rooms at BaUiol. Pugin, with
his love of mediaevalism, saw with satisfaction on Ward's table
the Summa of St. Thomas and the works of St. Buonaventure,
in huge foho volumes ; and their student's enthusiasm for the
Church of the Middle Ages struck a chord of common sympathy.
To Pugin this signified the existence of that devotion to Gothic
architecture which was in his eyes a necessary corollary foUow
ing from the true Cathohc spirit. They soon became friends,
and the visit was returned and repeated. After a talk with
Ward one day Pugin went to see Bloxam, and said to him,
" What an extraordinary thing that so glorious a man as Ward
should be Uving in a room without muUions to the windows.''
Next time they met Pugin taxed hira with this deficiency, and
received a rude shock from Ward's reply: "What are muUions?
I never heard of them." Pugin was, however, incredulous, but
on receiving a second assurance : " I haven't the most distant
idea what they are like," he retired discomfited. A few fresh
tokens of "invincible ignorance" in architecture so shocked
Pugin, that he entirely refused to beheve that Ward meant
what he said. '' I see how it is, my dear sir," he said, " you
conceal your graces."
As time went on, however, the painful truth forced itself on
Pugin's mind, not only in the case of Ward, but in that of
others of whom he had entertained high hopes. Newman and
Faber, after their conversion, both deserted Gothic for the Italian
architecture of the Eenaissance and modern Eome. "Very
sad, my dear sir," he said to a friend, " they have faUen from
grace." Dr. Bloxam tells me that he believes this disappoint
ment of his confident hopes of assistance from the Oxford
School in the Gothic revival, contributed materially to the iU
ness to which Pugin eventually succumbed. In 1846 he buUt
Ward a house near Old Hall College (of which he designed
the chapel with its beautiful screen), and graduaUy during their
necessary intercourse in this connection, he came at last to
reahse the terrible deficiencies of his client. Comfort was
preferred to beauty of form; lancet windows were tabooed;

VII A NEW CURRENT IN THE MOVEMENT 155
plenty of hght and plenty of air were insisted on at the cost of
any degree of infringement of the rules of art. Pugin became
depressed and then angry. In a letter to the president of Old
HaU CoUege, written about 1848, he speaks as foUows : " I assure
you if I had known Mr. Ward would have tumed out so badly,
I would never have designed a respectable house for him. He
ought not to be allowed to reside in the vicinity of so fine a
screen. I would assign him a first floor opposite Warwick
Street Chapel. Who could have thought that the glorious
man whom I knew at Oxford could have faUen so miserably
low ? it is very sad." And writing to Dr. Bloxam on these
matters, he adds one line as a postscript, " Ward heads the
anti-screen men. Sad, sad, sad."
Pugin's curious possession by one idea only grew as time
went on, and became even more fantastic in its exhibitions.
Within the next year he wrote, when accepting an invitation
to stay with a friend, expressing himself as unable to eat
puddings unless they were Gothic in form, and enclosing a
design for a Gothic pudding. The last eccentricity which he
exhibited in his connection with Mr. Ward was on occasion of
a letter sent by the latter to a Catholic magazine on the subject
of rood .screens, attacking them as undevotional. Not wishing
to stab Pugin in the dark he wrote to him acknowledging the
authorship, and received a reply to the foUowing effect : " Sir,
it needed not your note to convince me that you were the
perpetrator of the scandalous letter. I can only say that the
less we have to do with each other in future the better, for I
must plainly tell you that I consider you a greater enemy to
true Christianity than the most rabid Exeter HaU fanatic."
Mr. Ward, on finishing the letter remarked, " I knew Pughi
was strong in rood screens ; I didn't know he was so good a
hand at rude letters."

CHAPTEE VIII
TRACT NO. 90
On the appearance of the celebrated Tract 90, early in 1841,
the growing feehng of suspicion and distrust of the Movement
on the part of the authorities of the Church and University took
shape, and a storm burst over the heads of the party. New
man himself was far from looking for the violence of feeling it
aroused, though Ward, anxious as he was for its publication,
had maintained that nothing less was to be expected. " It is
a fact," writes Mr. Oakeley in his recoUections of the Movement,
" though an almost incredible one, that Mr. Newman was
totally unprepared for the reception which this most remark
able essay encountered both in the University and throughout
the country. . . . He most conscientiously believed that the
interpretation which he proposed, however new and however
little consistent, in some parts at least, with their prima facie
aspect, was yet fairly attributable to [the Articles] ; and he
expressed the greatest surprise when a friend (Mr. Ward) to
whom he showed the Tract previously to publication, gave
it as his opinion (entirely borne out by the result) that it
would completely electrify the University and the Church."
It had not been published many days before there were
symptoms in the University that something unusual was in
the air. The first impression caused by its appearance was thus
described at the time by one who took an active part in the
Movement : —
"A new tract has come out this week," wrote Mr. James
Mozley to his sister, " and is beginning to make a sensation. It is
on the Articles, and shows that they bear a highly Catholic mean-

CHAP. VIII TRACT NO. go i57
ing; and that many doctrines of which the Eomanist are corruptions,
may be held consistently with them. This is no more than what
we know as a matter of history, for the Articles were expressly
worded to bring in Eoman Catholics. But people are astonished
and confused at the idea now, as if it were quite new. And they
have been so accustomed for a long time to look at the Articles as
on a par with the creed that they think, I suppose, that if they
subscribe to them they are bound to hold whatever doctiines (not
positively stated in them) are merely not condemned. So if they
will have a Tractarian sense they are thereby all Tractarians. It is,
of course, highly complimentary to the whole set of us to be so
very much surprised that we should think what we held to be con
sistent with the Articles which we have subscribed."
On the same day as this letter was written the general
feehng on the part of the Anti-Tractarians found vent in a
protest — couched in the form of a letter to the Editor of the
Tracts, and signed by four Oxford tutors — Mr. Tait, Mr.
Churton, Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Griffiths. The original draft
was drawn up by Mr. Tait, who was the first to suggest the
line of action pursued. It indicated five heads on matters of
doctrine — (1) purgatory; (2) pardons; (3) the worshipping
and adoration of images and relics ; (4) the invocation of
saints ; (5) the mass : and declared that the Tract suggested
that the Articles do not contain any condemnation of these
doctrines, " as they are taught authoritatively by the Church of
Eome ; but only of certain absurd practices and opinions, which
intelligent Eomanists repudiate as much as we do." In view
of the dangerous tendency of this teaching as mitigating the
differences between England and Eome, and as breaking down
the guarantee which subscription was supposed to afford that
Eoman doctrine should not be preached by Anglican ministers,
the four tutors requested the Editor of the Tracts to make
known the writer's name. " Considering how very grave and
solemn the whole subject is," they wrote, "we cannot help
thinking that both the Church and the University are entitled
to ask that some person, besides the printer and publisher of
the Tract, should acknowledge himself responsible for its
contents." A week later, on 15 th March, at a meeting of the Vice-
ChanceUor, Heads of houses, and Proctors, in the Delegates'
room, the foUowing resolution was carried : —

158 TRACT NO. go CHAP.
"Considering that it is enjoined in the statutes of this Uni
versity that every student shall be instructed and examined in the
Thhty-Nine Articles, and shall subscribe to them ; considering also
that a Tract has recently appeared, dated from Oxford, and entitled
' Eemarks on certain passages in the Thirty-Nine Articles,' being No.
90 of the Tracts for the Times, a series of anonymous publications
purporting to be Avritten by members of the University, but which
are in no way sanctioned by the University itself — Besolved, that
modes of interpretation such as are suggested in the said Tract,
evading rather than explaining the sense of the Thirty-Nine Articles,
and reconciling subscription to them with the adoption of errors
which they were designed to counteract, defeat the object, and are
inconsistent with the due observance of the above - mentioned
statutes. " P. Wynter (Vice-ChanceUor)."
Mr. Newman wrote on the foUowing day to the Vice-
ChanceUor acknowledging the authorship, and immediately
afterwards published a letter, addressed to Dr. Jelf, then canon
of Christ Church, in explanation of the Tract, with reference to
the criticisms contained in the tutors' protest. In it he took
exception to the tutors' statement that he had maintained the
compatibility of the Articles with the authoritative teaching of
Eome on the points specified. " I only say," he writes, " that
whereas they were written before the decrees of Trent, they
were not directed against those decrees. The Church of Eome
taught authoritatively before those decrees as well as since.
Those decrees expressed her authoritative teaching, and they
will continue to express it while she so teaches. The simple
question is, whether taken by themselves in their mere letter,
they express it ; whether in fact other senses short of the
sense conveyed in the present authoritative teaching of the
Eoman Church wUl not fulfil their letter, and may not even
now in point of fact be held in that Church." This explana
tion was foUowed by a strong condemnation of the present
authoritative teaching of Eome " to judge by what we see of it
in pubhc," and viewed as a " popular system."
These subtle distinctions and qualifications exasperated his
opponents, as we shall see directly, and eventually led Mr.
Ward to enter the field, and to attempt to make absolutely
clear what Mr. Newman preferred to leave to some extent
undefined. On the other hand, the letter to Dr. Jelf avowed
that its author held the question as to the views of the

TRACT NO. go 159

Eeformers — whether they were Protestant or Catholic — to be
" an open one,'' and offered to Avithdraw the phrase he had
applied to the Articles " ambiguous formularies." And these
were necessary qualifications if he was to keep terms with
the less Eoman section of Tractarians represented by Dr. Pusey,
and with the representatives of the High Church party.
The principal motive which led him to write the Tract is
given in the following remarkable passage : —
" And now, if you will permit me to add a few words more, I
Arill briefly state why I am anxious about securing this liberty for
us. . . . There is at this moment a great progress of the religious
mind of our Church to something deeper and truer than satisfied
the last century. I have always contended, and will contend, that
it is not satisfactorily accounted for by any particular movements of
indiriduals on a particular spot. The poets and philosophers of the
age have borne witness to it many years. Those great names in
our literature. Sir Walter Scott, Mr. Wordsworth, Mr. Coleridge,
though in diff'erent ways and Arith essential differences one from
another, and perhaps from any Church system, bear witness to it.
The system of Mr. Irving is another witness to it. The age is
moving towards something, and most unhappily the one religious
communion among us which has of late years been practically in
possession of that something is the Church of Eome. She alone,
amid all the errors and evils of her practical system, has given free
scope to the feelings of awe, mystery, tenderness, reverence, de-
votedness, and other feelings which may be especiaUy called
Catholic. " The question then is whether we shall give them up to the
Eoman Church or claim them for ourselves, as we Avell may, by
reverting to that older system Avhich has of late years indeed been
superseded, but which has been and is quite congenial (to say the
least), I should rather say proper and natural, or even necessary, to
our Church. But if we do give them up, then we must give up the
men who cherish them ; we must consent either to give up the men
or to admit their principles.
"... The Tract is grounded on the behef that the Articles
need not be so closed as the received method of teaching closes
them, and ought not to be for the sake of many persons. If Ave
will close them, we run the risk of subjecting persons whom Ave
should least like to lose to the temptation of joining the Church of
Eome. . . ."
The next event of importance was a message from the
Bishop of Oxford to Mr. Newman, to the effect that he con
sidered that the Tract Avas " objectionable, and may tend to

i6o TRACT NO. go chap.
disturb the peace and tranquiUity of the Church," giving more
over the Bishop's advice " that the Tracts for the Times should
be discontinued." Newman at once wrote a letter to the
Bishop expressing his readiness to comply, but vindicating the
Tracts in general, and Tract 90 in particular, from the charges
brought against them.
This was the end of the controversy so far as Mr. Newman
hiraself was concerned. On the same day as that on which
the letter to the Bishop of Oxford was published (29 th March)
appeared a second edition of Tract 90, with various additions
and qualifications designed to meet the objections which had
been made to it in its original form, and this was its author's
last word.
However, the storm it had provoked did not so readUy
subside : pamphlets on either side continued to be pubhshed,
and the Tract was the one subject of conversation in the
common rooms, and much talked of throughout the country.
Mr. Ward, from his intimacy with men of all schools of
thought, was especially brought in contact with adverse
criticisms ; and the most common was one which he could
least brook as against a leader he so deeply revered, and
against a view which he himself adopted, the charge of dis
ingenuousness. Liberals such as Stanley and Jowett, though
quite ready to allow the latitude claimed by the Tract, depre
cated the ambiguity and want of directness to be found in
some of its expressions. The phrases introduced for the sake
of the Puseyite section, which tolerated the view that the
Eeformers were Cathohc in sympathy, and the attempt to veU
the fact that the interpretations advocated were forced inter
pretations, seemed to them wanting in straightforwardness,
where straightforwardness was most called for. The conclusion
of the Tract, Stanley said years afterwards, was " veUed by the
pecuUar style of its powerful author." And it seems clear
from Ward's reraarks to Dr. Pusey quoted later on, that many
others shared in this general impression.
Then Mr. Wilson, one of the four protesting tutors, published
a letter complaining of Mr. Newman's arabigiuty of expression,
and vindicating the original protest with special reference to Mr.
Newman's letter to Dr. Jelf " That we felt a difficulty at the
time," he vpxote, " from what we thought a want of definiteness in

TRACT NO. go i6i

many expressions in the Tract, and were aware that if we stated
the writer's meaning to be what it might be, or most probably
was (to our apprehension) we might find afterwards that such
was not his real meaning, is doubtless very clearly recollected by
us all." And after going into detail as to Avhat he considers
Mr. Newman's ambiguous and shifting use of such terms as
" authoritative teaching " of Eome, " received doctrine " of the
schools, and so forth, and defending the original interpretation
of the tutors, he says, " Nothing can be more unsatisfactory
than the attempt to foUow this writer through the shifting of
his terras both in the letter and the Tract. ... I cannot say
that on the whole this letter is much more satisfactory to me
than the Tract. There is found in it the same ambiguity of
terms — the same shifting of terms — the same inapplicability of
quotations to that which they are to prove."
This letter, which Avas hailed with great triumph by Tait
and his associates, decided Mr. Ward to come forward. He
Avrote two pamphlets on the subject, entitled respectively A
Few Words, and A Few Words more — in defence of Tract 90.
He considered the trunk-line of argument in Tract 90 obviously
straightforward and honest. But he did think it desirable
that that line should be exhibited more plainly, and that certain
parts of it should be more emphaticaUy brought forward. He
had no wish to defer to Dr. Pusey's moderate views, and he
thought that such deference only confused the issue, and gave a
certain colour to the charges in question. Thus, whUe Newman
allowed it to be an open question whether the Eeformers were
Catholic or not in sentiment, though avoAring the latter to be
his own personal view. Ward maintained the latter view to be
quite certain, and necessary to the argument. Again NcAvman
spoke of subscribing the Articles in their " literal and gram
matical sense " ; Ward said plainly that they might be sub
scribed in a " non-natural " sense. Some of the interpretations
in the Tract were forced,^ and he thought that this should be
openly admitted. Hence it followed that whUe Newman
denied that the Articles were a difficulty to Catholics, Mr. Ward
considered that they were a difficiUty, though not insurmount
able. So, too, the Tract laid stress on their not excluding
doctrines held in the "Primitive Church"; Ward brought
' Some specimens of these interpretations are given in Appendix E.
M

1 62 TRACT NO. go , chap.
forward what was admitted in the Tract but not dwelt on, that
they need not, on the same principle, exclude obligatory Eoma;n
doctrine on the points in question. Newman offered to withdraw
the phrase " ambiguous formularies " as appUed to the Articles ;
Ward on the contrary considered his only hope to lie in their
ambiguity. If not ambiguous many of them were certainly
Protestant. The very ground, too, on which they could be sub
mitted to such forced interpretations, was that the Eeformers
themselves were not straightforward or honest men ; that they
designedly left the phraseology ambiguous so as to admit
Cathohcs, while preserving the rhetoric^ and general tone of
Protestant formularies to satisfy the Protestant Churches abroad.
Writing to Dr. Pusey some months later he speaks as follows : —
" Affairs were in this state : Newman had written his Tract,
and a great number of persons on all sides considered it disingenu
ous in the highest degree. From what my own acquaintances, who
disliked it, said, it seemed clear to me that they did not understand
its argument ; and it struck me that it might be of the greatest
importance that they should fully understand what he did mean.
Especially they did not understand his very unfavourable opinion
of the English Eeformers and Eeformation. I have heard him say
several times, ' either the Eeformers were disingenuous or my Tract
is so,' and not understanding him to imply the former, people
imputed to him the latter. Again, as he had at length expressed in
print his dislike of the Eeformation, it seemed most desirable for
truth's sake that this should be strongly put forward. Again,
before my first pamphlet, Wilson had published his, which many
people thought quite crushing, though I felt that I could answer
every word of it Arith great ease ; and before my second two others
were published which it was desirable to answer. I can most truly
say that I would have given a great deal that any one else should
have published rather than myself, but no one seemed likely to do
so. On the other hand your own pamphlet was coming out, and
not unlikely to be succeeded by others on the same side, Avhich
would tend the more to blind people to Newman's Anti-Eeformation
feelings, from their tendency to consider you almost his authorised
interpreter. ..." •
He explained and defended the course he adopted to other
friends also on simUar grounds. He thought that fuller and
completer statements were needed in the interests of fairplay.
The views of all parties should be considered and answered .
from the Tractarian standpoint, and that standpoint should be
' See Oakeley's Tractarian Movement, p. 45.

VIII TRACT NO. go 163
explained unequivocally.^ Nor would he aUow the justice of
a remonstrance made by Mr. Tait that his action was in oppo
sition to the Bishop's message to Mr. Newman aheady referred
to. His pamphlet, he said, referred to the doctrine of the
Tract, whUe the Bishop's sentence was purely disciplinary.
The Bishop had said of the Tract that it was " objectionable
and may tend to disturb the peace and tranquUUty of the
Church." Mr. Ward commented on this : " It might do the
latter whether from being ' objectionable ' in the time of its
appearance, or in the manner in which it advocated its point,
as being indirect, or satirical, or ambiguous, or incomplete in
its statements ; if the former were the reason, at aU events the
time is no longer in the choice of any one of us, and the con
troversy raust proceed ; if the latter, it is even co-operating
with his Lordship's judgment to throw the same positions, so
far as may be, into another shape ; and I have anxiously
endeavoured [that my pamphlets] may be neither indirect,
satirical, nor ambiguous." He begins his firat pamphlet by
saying that he has corae to the determination of Avriting with
reference to Mr. Wilson's letter —
"... not as being unmindful of the great erils to which direct
theological controversy, unless great care be used on both sides,
may lead, but still considering that in the present case a view of
part of our Articles new in great measure at least to the present
generation, will hardly meet Arith general acceptance tUl after full
and fair discussion, and that those who feel difficulties in that view
have a fair claim on those who advocate it that their objections
shall be at least considered. I should not," he adds, " do justice to
my own feelings if I did not add that another reason which Avould
less disincline one to controversy on the present occasion than on
most others is the most remarkably temperate and Christian tone
of the paper to which Mr. WUson Avas a party, and which began
the contest ; a tone which may Avell encourage one in sanguine hopes
that the beginning having been made in such a spirit, whatever may
be said on either side may be said on the whole in a temper not
unworthy of the great importance of the subject."
The phrase " authoritative teaching " had been one chief
source of misunderstanding, as Mr. NcAvman had used it in
more senses than one. One of Mr. Ward's chief objects was
to point out that even where the Tract could in this matter be
I See, e.g. letter to Mr. Scott, p. 169.

i64 TRACT \'0. go chap.
accused of ambiguity of language, its meaning Avas very plain
and straightforward.. "He summarises Newman's position
thus : —
" Mr. Newman's opinion then is, that the doctrines on these
subjects condemned by the Articles are not taught authoritatively
by the Church of Eome in the sense of being obligatory on the
belief of each individual member of the Church, or so that that
Church is irrevocably bound to them ; that they are taught authori
tatively in that they are not merely ' practices and opinions which
intelligent Eomanists repudiate as much as we do,' but 'maintained
and acted on in the Eoman Church,' 'actually taught in that
Church,' 'an existing ruling spMt and view in that Church,' 'which
is a corruption and perversion of the truth,' and ' which I think the
XXXIX Articles speak of (Letter, p. 10). . . . Authoritative
teaching may naturally mean the teaching of those in authority ;
but then individuals, members of the Eoman Church, are not hound
to believe such teaching, except so far as it is borne out by that
Church's authoritative statements : the Tract considers the Articles
as directed against the authoritative teaching so lamentably preva
lent throughout the Eoman Church, not the authoritative statements
of that Church herself."
It will not be to our purpose at this distance of time to go
into close details of a subtle controversy; all I shaU attempt
is to note some salient features Ulustrative of Mr. Ward's share
in it and of his mental characteristics.
His main thesis, over and above the detailed defence of
the Tract, is " that in the Articles in dispute ... a remarkable
attempt " is evident " on the part of the framers to present an
imposing external appearance of Protestantism, while nothing
is decided which might prevent those who deferred more reaUy
than they did to priraitive authority from subscribing."
Further, where the condemnations are express, there is " truth
in point of doctrine and error in point of fact ; — trath of doc
trine in declaring certain opinions condemnable, error in fact in
considering thera held by the more religious Eoman Catholics."
Though professing only to defend the Tract, and though
he attempted, in deference to the advice of others, to conceal
the strength of his own sympathy with the existing Eoman
Church, symptoras of it appeared in the first pamphlet, and still
plainer ones in the second. The University authorities were
not likely to be pleased Arith such a passage as the following:

TRACT NO. go 165

— " It is much to be wished that Eoman Cathohc writers would
remember that it is not incumbent on any member of our
Church to maintain our superiority to them either in formal
statement or in practice. We do not deny theh communion
to be part of the Universal Church, though they deny ours to
be so." The influence of Newman's teaching as to the practical
corruptions of Eome, however, remained ; and though he might
consider the practical corruptions of Anglicanism greater stiU,
he held by the proverb, Spartam nactus es, hane exorna ; seces
sion was not obhgatory, for the Anghcan Church was a branch,
if a corrupt one, of the Cathohc Church. " May we not allude
to this as one of the numberless marks we have on us of being
a hving branch of Christ's Church, that the Eoman Church
and ours together make up so far more an adequate representa
tion of the early Church (our several defects and practical
corruptions as it were protesting against each other) than
either separately." Still the condition of being able to look
upon the English Church as a branch of the Catholic Church
is, that when she makes use of certain formularies, they must
bear an interpretation consistent with the doctrine of the
Primitive Church. Such formularies come to one who so
beheves, not as bare words or expressions, to be understood
only by reference to their own inherent drift, but as the words
of a Church whose views we in great part know from her past
history ; — " as the words of some old and revered friend Avhom
we have known long and well, and who has taught us high and
holy lessons ; and if after such long experience we hear from
him words which at first sound strangely, we interpret them if
possible in accordance with his weU-known spirit. If they
absolutely refuse to be so explained, we recognise with sorrow
that we have mistaken his character ; but in proportion to our
experience of the preciousness of his forraer counsels, in pro
portion to our perception of the plain traces he stUl bears upon
hira of his former self, are we unwiUing to believe that any of
his expressions may not be so interpreted."
In conclusion he writes : —
" One reason in addition may be mentioned, why to remain in
our own Church, and by God's help to elevate its tone, cannot be

1 66 TRACT NO. go

looked at by the Catholic Christian as the cold performance of a
duty (though a plain duty of course it is), but a labour of love.
' Many persons who have been by God's grace led into Avhat they
deem the truth, are most deeply sensible that in the number of
those who think otherwise, are still very many persons so much
their superiors in religious attainments, that the idea of even a
comparison is most painful Yet religious truth is the especial
inheritance of such persons, who nevertheless, whether from the
prepossessions of education, or the inadequate way in which that
truth has been brought before them, have hitherto failed to recognise
God's mark upon it. Can there be a task more full of interest and
hope, than in all possible ways, especially by the careful ordering of
our own lives and conversations, to do what in us lies to set before
such persons in a manner which may overcome their adverse im
pressions, that one image of the Catholic Church, which, could they
but see it, is the real satisfaction of their restless cravings, and the
fit reward for their patient continuance in well-doing ? Yet such a
task is exclusively ours as members of the English Church, and may
well add one to the many associations and bonds of love which bind
us to that Holy Mother, through whom we received our new birth.
May we all have grace to labour worthily in the pious task of
building her up in truth and purity, with loving-tenderness indeed
towards all branches of the Cathohc Church, but with an especial
and dutiful attachment to her."
This pamphlet, which was Ward's first public utterance on
behalf of advanced views, drew upon him the remonstrance of
many friends. I have already referred to. the withdrawal by
Tait and Woolcombe of the invitation they had given him to
CO - operate with their official care of the undergraduates.
Eobert Scott, another of his brother Fellows, also remonstrated
Avith him in a letter, to which Ward rephed by a vindication
of his action, which must be quoted at length : —
f " Oxford, 27«A April 1841.
" My dear Scott — I am much obliged to you for the letter I
received from you this morning. Of course it is a person's oivn
fault if he does not put to good account every criticism on his
proceedings which may reach him, and in this case I think it a
great kindness that, thinking as you do, you have stated your opinion
to me so plainly. 1 feel that while I share with you an objection
to ' enter into controversy on the subject,' I shall be putting your
letter to one use which you intended, if I take the liberty of saying
a few words as to my reasons for thinking as I think and acting as
I have acted; that even though you do not agree with them, you

TRACT NO. go 167

may see that it is not hastily and without thought that I have
proceeded. " As to the Tract itself, there were reasons besides those very
important ones which Newman mentioned to Jelf, which made me
rejoice more at the appearance of No. 90 than at anything which
has yet been done. Of course I know, and am very sorry to know,
that you do not agree Arith me : but I will mention two. The first
is that I hail with so great joy anything which promises us a closer
union, whether in ethos or in doctrine, Arith foreign Churches. This
the Tract seemed especially calculated to do ; for, first, it tended to
show English Churchmen that many practices which they censured
in foreigners were not condemned by our own Church; and,
secondly, it tended to show Eoman Churchmen that many cor
ruptions which shock and offend us in them are as strongly con
demned in their own formularies as in ours. To show that
subscription to the Council of Trent is not inconsistent with that
to the Thirty-Nine Articles, so far as that is shown in the Tract, is
plainly no small step towards sympathy between the Churches
respectively sanctioning those formularies. The second reason I
will mention is, that the tone of the introduction, and, indirectly,
also of the conclusion, so remarkably draws the attention of EngUsh
churchmen to (what many, myself included, consider) the miserable
condition of our own Church. We are, not unnaturally, very much
more sensitively alive to the miserable corruptions prevalent abroad
than the miserable corruptions prevalent at home ; and, for my own
part, till we have the grace of humility in a far higher measure than
the English Church since the schism of the sixteenth century seems
generally to have had it, I see no hope of our Church taking any
thing like its proper place cither in England or in Christendom. I
think that all yet done in the way of restoring Church principles is
comparatively of no importance except as a foundation to build this
upon. This has been very forcibly expressed in a pamphlet just put
out by Keble, and printed though not published. Of course I fear
there is little chance of your agreeing with either of these riews ; I
am only mentioning some among the reasons which make people
who do hold them exceedingly attached to No. 90, and tvery
anxious at whatever sacrifice to do what in them lies to help it. At
the same time I quite agree with your next remark, that it is
a terrible thing to make the enemies of the Lord blaspheme ! It
is a very deep source of grief that so many seem to consider the
tract a Jesuitical play upon words by which anything may mean
anything. I fear from your letter to Tait that you are almost of
the number of those who think so (of course I do not suppose you
to charge it with corrupt motives), and I feel it a very severe trial
that so many serious persons are shocked in their notions of good
ness and holiness, when they think they see persons of great preten-

1 68 TRACT NO. go

sions [to sanctity] sanction by their example gross dishonesty. And
^s I am most firmly convinced, the more so the more I consider the
subject (which is no new one to me, as is to be expected in the case
of one who signed the Articles for deacon's orders in Arnold's and
for priest's in Newman's sense of them), that this interpretation is
perfectly honest and legitimate, it was this feeling which induced
me, at considerable sacrifice of personal feeling, to write my pamphlet;
the one great object of which was to draw out from the rather
peculiar form in which Newman had thrown it, the real and sub
stantial argument of his Tract, on those points to Avhich I had heard
of objections. 1 found there was no one else prepared to undertake
it, and for the sake of all parties it seemed almost necessary to be
undertaken. . . . [He defends himself against the charge of dis
regarding the Bishop's judgment in words almost identical with those
quoted in page 163, and then proceeds.]
"In order to support what Newman conscientiously believed
the true view, it was necessary either to hint or openly to state his
extremely unfavourable views of the English Eeformers. From a
wish to avoid giving unnecessary offence he chose the former
method; for those who misunderstood that and charged Newman
with disingenuousness where he meant to charge the Eeformers
with it, I thought a short pamphlet, if they happened to read it,
putting these charges against the Eeformers more fully out might
be serviceable. It would certainly be in no way contravening
the Bishop's judgment, and very probably might be exactly co
operating with it. . . .
" As to my position in the College the case is different. Every
Head of a house is the sole judge what theology he will have taught
there authoritatively ; and from the moment the censure of the
Hebdomadal Board appeared, I felt it a plain duty to give back to
Tait and Woolcombe the charge they had entrusted me with. It
is not the writing, the holding views so pointedly condemned by
one's own Head inclusively, makes it to my mind a plain duty to act
as I acted. Tait happened to speak to me on the subject before I
directly mentioned it to him; but he knows that from the first 1
intended nothing else. But if you mean that the office, whether of
Mathematical Lecturer or Fellow, should preclude a person from
advocating in public views on theology which he is perfectly con
vinced are both true and most important, because the Head of his
house is known to think very differently, I cannot acquiesce in such
a view ; nor of course could I in that case retain either of those
offices. No one can be justified in precluding himself from the
power of speaking out on such points, where the Church does not
command his silence. . . .
" 1 think I have now adverted to all the points you mentioned :
and can only repeat (1) my thanks for your expressing your feelings

TRACT NO. go 169

to me so openly ; (2) that I am far from Avishing to engage in con
troversy, only to express the views (right or wrong) under which I
have acted, and which it struck me you might not quite understand;
(3) that any weak points you observe in the arguments of my
pamphlet it Avould be a real kindness if you would point out to me,
that in case I reach a second edition they may be amended. It
seems to me that some further discussion is necessary under present
circumstances. We cannot expect people to receive a view in many
respects so strange to them without much difficulty and misgiring ;
and I feel convinced the more the matter is sifted on both sides in
a right spirit the more clearly Avill the truth (on whichever side it
be) emerge. — Believe me, my dear Scott, yours very sincerely,
" W. G. Ward."
The controversy did not flag. The bulk of the High
Church party, whatever misgivings they had as to portions of
the Tract, adopted its reasoning in the main, and Mr. Palmer
wrote in its defence. Dr. Arnold's school were at work
attacking it in the Edinburgh Beview, and in the University
there were men who loved the Protestant elements of Angli
canism, and were ready to take the field in their behalf.
Mr. Eobert Lowe, afterwards so distinguished in the political
Avorld, published anonymously a pamphlet called The Articles
as construed hy themselves, in which he pleaded against having
recourse to any external guide in the interpretation of the
Articles, which should, he contended, be simply viewed in the
most natural meaning they bear in themselves, and without
reference to the intentions of the framers. He repeated, too, in
the roundest terms the charge of dishonesty against the prin
ciples of the Tract. This pamphlet and an article in the
Edinburgh Beview brought Mr. Ward for a second time into
the field. In May he published his Few More Words in
defence of Tract 90. He gives as one of his reasons for
coming forward again : " The deep grief that aU must feel avIio
really reverence the Oxford writers, at the impression [that
they] advocate a Jesuitical (in the popular sense of the word)
principle by which anything may mean anything, and forms
may be subscribed at the most solemn period of our life onlj'
to be dishonestly explained aAvay." With regard to Mr.
Lowe's main contention, Mr. Ward Amtes as foUows: —
"As to the general view of the pamphlet, it seems to have
much force. ... At the same time I Avould Avish to urge

17° TRACT NO. go chap.
the writer on to his legitimate conclusions. Let him remember,
that the clergy not only ' e% animo subscribe ' the Articles, but ' give
their assent and consent to the Book of Common Prayer,' and
profess ' that there is nothing in it contrary to the Word of God.
And though the pamphlet maintains the Articles to be Protestant,
its author will hardly deny the Prayer-book to be Catholic. Yet if
this be so, be must explain the letter of the one, so far as may be,
by the spirit of the other. Whichever he chooses as the foundation,
the spirit of the one, on his own showing, must be neglected,
and the letter explained drily, and (what he would call) disin
genuously. ..."
The real question, however, at issue between himself and
Mr. Lowe is thus expressed by him : " Are we to look at the
Articles as of the nature of a creed intended to teach doctrine,
or of the nature of a joint declaration intended to be vague
and to include persons of discordant sentiments ?" And on
this question he maintains the latter to be obviously the true
view. Mr. Lowe in his rejoinder avowed himself the author of
the pamphlet, and defended his own position ; condemning
Mr. Ward's and Mr. Newman's views very unequivocally as
immoral : —
" In avowing myself the author of a pamphlet which Mr. Ward
has recently honoured Arith his notice," he wrote, " I feel that I owe
some apology to the public for having, although a layman, entered
into this controversy. My excuse is that the view I took of the
subject was rather moral than theological ... I do think (to
borrow Mr. Newman's illustration) that the Articles are not a heap
of stones, but a building ; and that he who induces himself by
thirty-nine distinct quibbles to assent to them piecemeal, , and then
denies them as a whole, is guilty of the most hateful verbftl sophistry
and mental reservation. If this be indeed a paradox, it is a paradox
of which I am not and have no reason to be ashamed."
But the interest of Mr. Ward's second pamphlet, and its
effect on the course of the Moveraent, were due mainly to his
language respecting the Eeformers and Eeformation. Pusey
was known to be preparing a defence of the Tract, in which a
favourable Adew of the Eeformation would be advocated. This
question was, as I have said, the rock on which the Tractarians
split and divided into two parties, the Eomanisers and the
more moderate school. Newman had passed the question

TRACT NO. go 171

over as of small account, and the difference of opinion might
have been scarcely noticed had it not been brought into
the boldest relief by Mr. Ward in his pamphlet. Eeferring to
Newman's language in the Tract, Mr. Ward writes thus : —
"He intimates, not very obscurely (Tract, p. 79), that iu
releasing [the English Church] from the Eoman supremacy her
then governors were guUty of rebellion, and considering that they
had also sworn obedience to the Pope, for my own part I see not
how we can avoid adding — of perjury. The point on which Mr.
Newman would take his stand is this : that, estimating the sin at
the highest, it was not 'that special sin which cuts off from the
fountains of grace, and is called schism ; ' and this position (no one
can deny that it is a difficult one) he maintained in an article he
has since acknowledged, in the British Critic a year ago. If the
Edinburgh reviewer is willing to discuss the argument of that
article, he is at perfect liberty to do so ; one does not see how
anything but good can come from a fair and accurate consideration
of it. But what does seem surprising is, that, while he labours and
makes quotations to show what Mr. Newman not only does not
deny, but expressly maintains, that Cranmer and Eidley were of
different sentiraents from himself on most subjects (p. 280), he treats
the very question on which the whole position of his opponents
depends in the foUowing strain : ' Every one must be astonished that
men professing (these opinions) should continue to hold appoint
ments in a church, which is generally understood to have been founded
on the most positive denial of most of these doctrines, and on a
consequent secession from the great society which continued to hold
them. It is a notorious historical fact, that the doctrines in question
... as a whole, . . . have been rejected by all Protestant communities '
(p. 273). Let him prove to us that the Church of England is a
Protestant community ; that it was founded on the denial of
Catholic doctrines ; that it seceded from the ancient English Church
which witnessed these doctrines, let him prove this ; and, though
the Articles were as obviously on our side as he considers them
overwhelmingly against us, our conscience could not allow us to
remain one moment in a communion which had thus forfeited the
gifts of grace."
Dr. Pusey, on his side, pubhshed a defence of Tract 90
(couched in the form of a letter to Dr. Jelf) in which he took
the line of proving that it advocated only what many post-
Eeformation English divines had already advocated. So far as
the plain admissions of the Tract went, doubtless Dr. Pusey's
contention was sound ; and indeed Mr. Newman himself vindi-

172 TRACT NO. go chap.
cated the line he had taken on the same ground. But the
implications that Eome was not irrevocably committed to
anything inconsistent with the Articles, that the Tridentiue
decrees admitted of an interpretation consistent with them,
that the Eeformers raay have been guUty of rebellion, that
Eome was in possession of a religious ethos not to be found
elsewhere — these suggestions in the Tract, and in his own
letter in its defence, showed a line of thought which must have
made his Puseyite friends uneasy. Mr. Ward insisted on these
symptoms as indications of a line of thought which, if it meant
anythhig, must mean what he hiraself openly expressed. On
the other hand, the moderate party could point to the contrast
in their language, and tried to account for the suggestions of
a directly Eoman character as being thrown out, not in conse
quence of Mr. Newman's own leanings in the direction of
Eome, but for the sake of those who felt as Mr. Ward felt.
Thus the two schools had a similar plea. One said that the
Eoman suggestions were for the sake of Ward and Oakeley,
while Newman's own view was raore in accordance with that
of the AngUcan divines. The other averred that the hesitation
shown in the Tract to speak strongly against the Eeformers, or
to confess openly that the interpretations advocated were in
some cases forced ones, was for the sake of Pusey, while Mr.
Newman's real view was identical with Mr. Ward's.
Still the Puseyites could point with great effect to the con
trast between the language used in the Tract on the one hand,
and in Mr. Ward's defence on the other. For instance, Mr.
Newman spoke of the objection based on the Articles, as
" groundless." " That there are real difficulties to a Cathohc
Christian," he wrote, " in the ecclesiastical position of our Church
at this day no one can deny; but the statements of the Articles
are not in their number. . . . Our present scope is merely to
show that, while our Prayer-book is acknowledged on all hands to
be of Cathohc origin, our Articles, also the offspring of an un-
cathohc age, are, through God's good providence, to say the
least, not uncatholic, and may be subscribed by those who aim
at being catholic in heart and doctrine." Not so Mr. Ward. The
basis of his own defence of the Tract was much less favourable,
alike to the Articles themselves and to their framers. " He gave,"
writes the Dean of St. Paul's, " a ncAv aspect and new issues to

TRACT NO. go 173

the whole controversy. The Articles, to him, were a difficulty
which they were not to the writer of No. 90, or to Dr. Pusey,
or to Mr. Keble. To him they were not only the ' offspring
of an uncatholic age,' but in themselves uncathohc. And his
answer to the charge of dishonest subscription was, not that
the Articles ' in their natural meaning are Cathohc,' but that
the system of the English Church is a compromise between
what is Catholic and what is Protestant, and that the Protestant
parties in it are involved in even greater difficulties, in relation
to subscription and use of its formularies, than the Cathohc.
He admitted that he did evade the sphit, but accepted the
' statements ' of the Articles, maintaining that this was the
intention of their original framers. With characteristic bold
ness, inventing a phrase which has become famous, he wrote,
' Our Twelfth Article is as plain as words can make it on the
evangelical side. Of course I think its natural meaning may
be explained away, for I subscribe it myself in a non-natural
sense.' But he showed that Evangehcals, high-church Angli
cans, and Latitudinarians were equaUy obUged to have re
course to explanations, which to all but themselves were
unsatisfactory." But while Dr. Pusey and those who felt with him con
sidered Ward's pamphlet as violent and extreme, and as going
far beyond Newman's own views, it is plain from the correspon
dence given in pages 177-184 that NeAvman himself did not
at that tirae distinctly repudiate Ward's view. And there Avere
others, supporters and opponents alike of the Tract, who looked
upon his pamphlets as only a plain and open avowal of opinions
which Mr. Newman, frora the difficulty of his position, or as
some said from the over-subtlety of his mind, decUned to state
expressly. Thus Stanley considered that the real conclusion of
the Tract was " that all Eoman doctrine might be held within
the limits of the English Church." ^ And the tutors, who had
been exasperated by the " shifting of terms " in Tract 90, wel
comed Ward's unreserved exposition of his principles as a tangible
and substantial object of attack, in place of the will-o'-the-wisp
which had provoked them and eluded theh grasp. Mr, Ward
Avrites to Mr. Pusey in July 1841 : " . . . Tait, among others,
told me he Avas particularly pleased with my way of putting
1 See Edinburgh Review, April 1881, Article, " The Oxford School."

174 TRACT NO. go chap.
things, and that several people liked it very much. Jowett,
one of our younger Fellows, who himself has great difficulty in
subscribing the Articles, told me that no theory could possibly
satisfy his raind which did not acknowledge the plain fact that
the Eeforraers were anti-Cathohc, and expressed himself very
warmly in favour of my second pamphlet." And Mr. Oakeley,
accepting Mr. Ward's view to the fuU, wrote a pamphlet
designed to show that the historical records of the Eeformation
bear out the conclusion with respect to the Articles, which Mr.
Ward defended from their internal structure.
The publication of Ward's second pamphlet led to further
steps against him on the part of his Balliol associates. Tait
and other Fellows represented to the Master that the Eoman
bias of the pamphlet was so strong, as to make its author
unfit for the position of Logical and Mathematical Lecturer
— a position which necessarily brought him in contact with
young men, at a time of life when influence is readily gained.
The Master, who always had a personal hiring for Ward, was
not very eager in the matter at first ; however he undertook to
read the pamphlet. He was no great theologian, and his first
attempt to make his way through the ninety pages of close
logic and technical phraseology proved a failure. He was dis
covered by one of the undergraduates asleep in his arm-chair,
with a copy of a ^ Few Words More in his hands. For a time
it was thought that the matter had blown over, and that Ward's
tutorship was safe. However, a second attempt was made to
rouse the Master's slumbering energies. Strong passages were
pointed out — against the existing Anglican systera and against
the authorities of the establishraent. Such sentences as the
following were, perhaps, brought before his notice : — " Let those
whose love for [tbe English Church] is lukewarra content them
selves with mourning in private over her decayed condition ; her
true and faithful children will endeavour to awaken the minds
of their brethren to a sense of her present degradation." " It
is difficult to estimate the amount of responsibUity she year by
year incurs on account of those . . . who remain buried in the
darkness of Protestant error, because she fails in her duty of
holding clearly forth the light of Gospel truth." The Master
was much shocked. " He is a most dangerous man," he said ;
and he braced himself up to the unpleasant task of calling

TRACT NO. go 175

upon the offender to resign his tutorship. Those who remember
the events connected with this measure describe Dr. Jenkyns
as in a very uncomfortable state of mind. Mr. Ward's great
urbanity, and the friendhness of theh relations made his task
especially hard. " Eeally Tait," he said, " when I meet Ward
and talk to him, I find hira so amusing and so agreeable, that it
is almost impossible to believe that he is the same man who
says those dreadful things iu print." Of the two lectureships
held by Mr. Ward the Logical lectureship gave the Master
most uneasiness. " What heresy may he not insinuate," he
said, " under the form of a syllogism ! " Dr. Jenkyns, after
some hesitation, had screwed up his courage to the necessary
interview, when, to his surprise and intense relief. Ward came
up to him one day and said, "Master, I have come to resign
my two lectureships into your hands. I have heard of your
wishes," he proceeded, " and of course feel it my duty to defer
to thera ; and I am sure you are right from your point of
view. I must, if your views on these questions are the true
ones, be a most dangerous man, and I don't see that you had
any choice in the matter. You Avere bound to take Avhat
steps you could against me." The Master was quite disarmed.
" Eeally, Ward, this is just like your generosity." ^
While the opinions expressed in Ward's pamphlet brought
him into trouble with the authorities at Balliol, they caused no
little anxiety to his friends of various shades of opinion.
" Where is it to end ? " they asked. A position which so
strained the extremest boundaries of Anghcanism could not
satisfy him permanently, and the Eoman Church itself seemed
even then to be his ultimate destination. "There remains,"
wrote Dean Scott to Tait, " a question of most painful interest to
those who know him and think of him as you and I do — what
do you think is likely to become of him now ? I ask not o
priori, but what seems he himself to think of his position ? "
Dr. Pusey brought matters to an issue by sending him a message
through Oakeley, asking for a distinct pledge that he Avould
not join the Eoman Church ; and Ward, though declaring that
secession was far from his thoughts, refused to give such a
^ An account is given of this scene in Canon Oakeley's Balliol under Dr.
Jenhyns. I have added ono or two particulars communicated to mo from other
sources. Professor Jowett's account of it is given in the Appendix.

176 TRACT NO. go chap.
pledge. This in itself was serious enough ; but it Avas rendered
far more serious in the correspondence which followed, by his
exphcit claim of Newman's sanction for all his opinions. As
we have seen, in the letter to Dr. Jelf, Newman had professed
to claim as aUowable opinions which had been regarded as
dangerously approaching to Eomanism, mainly with reference
to others more extreme than himself The points wherein the
extreme party differed from Dr. Pusey's foUowing he had
treated as open questions ; and an attempt was thus made to
avoid the appearance of a separation between the two leaders.
We see from the Apologia, however, that Newman was really
uncertain of his position, and had a suspicion that after aU the
" extreme party " might prove to be right. Ward himself
considered that Newman went further than this, and had given
positive sanction to his own views ; and to bring matters to an
issue he expressed his wUlingness to give up any single opinion,
if it could be shown him that Newman disapproved of it. If
this challenge remained unanswered it was plain that the check
which had previously been put upon the growth and development
of extreme views by Newman's strong hand, must cease to exist ;
and the division of the party into two camps, the Eomanisers
and the Puseyites, must become more and more marked.
Some extracts from the defence of his position which he
Avrote to Dr. Pusey in July 1841 will illustrate this state of
things —
" With regard," be wrote, " to Newman's sanction of \A Few
Words more in defence of Tract 90] he told me that he did not know
a single sentiment expressed in it in which he did not altogether
concur. He said that I had my way of saying things and he his,
and that his was a very different way from mine ; but this is con
nected Arith the manner, not matter."
Again, in reply to Dr. Pusey's expostulation with him for
accusing the Eeformers of disingenuousness, he wrote —
" ' Solutions short of this,' you say, ' have satisfied older men.'
They have not satisfied Newman ; and I speak in my pamphlet on
this subject only as expressing what he has said in the Tract. But
might I submit to you, are there many persons who on the one
hand do not accuse the Eeformers of disingenuousness, and yet on
the other consider the foUovring doctrines and practices allowed hy
the Articles — (1) Invocation of saints ; (2) Veneration of images and

TRACT NO. go i77

relics ; (3) An intermediate state of purification with pain ; (4) The
reservation of the host ; (5) The elevation of the host (you do not
touch on these last in your pamphlet) ; (6) The infallibility of some
general councils ; (7) The doctrine of desert by congruity (in the
received Eoman sense) ; (8) The doctrine that the Church ought to
enforce celibacy on the clergy ? "
He states his absolute readiness to defer to Newman on the
points in debate in the foUowing terras : —
" . . .1 would at once give up any theological opinion 1 am
inclined to if I knew NeAvman to differ from it ; and also (Arith
regard to what you wrote to Oakeley) ... I found my notion of
Newman's views not on what he allows to be said in his presence
without contradiction, but on what he says himself, either volun
tarily or in answer to questions."
Another question, and that of a very practical character,
arose — as to the validity of the Anglican sacraments, and the
laxity of view allowed within the establishment in a matter on
Catholic principles so important. Here Ward represented
Newman's view to be identical with his own; and Father
Lockhart's account, given in a subsequent chapter,'' of Avhat
passed between him and Newman on the subject at Littlemore
a year later, seems to show that such was the case. On this
question Mr. Ward wrote to Dr. Pusey as follows : —
" I have heard Newman say that it is, to say the least, doubtful
whether there can be said to be a valid sacrament administered
unless the priest adds mentally what our Eucharistic service omits.
. . . Williams of King's College, Cambridge, mentioned to Newman
in my hearing that the Bishop of Lincoln in speaking to him at the
time of his ordination, laughed at the notion of an apostolical
succession as having 'passed through Pope Joan,' and NeAvman
said, ' If even the Bishop of Lincoln talks so Avhat must we say of
the majority of our Bishops,' or I believe words rather stronger."
But independently of the question of Newman's sanction of
the matter of the pamphlets. Dr. Pusey had expressed his dis
approval of their tone and of their language in respect of the
Eeformers and Eeformation. He was evidently unprepared
for it, and told Oakeley that he wished the advanced school
would speak to him more openly of their views and feehngs.
This drew from Ward a long Apologia, of which I proceed to
quote portions. Before entering on the actual merits of the
> See p. 210.
N

178 TRACT NO. go chap.
question in debate, he begins by claiming " the lowest place "
.for himself : —
" As the line which I shall have to take Avill be that of defending
myself against the censure which I am grieved to find you consider
my pamphlet to deserve, it Arill not be wrong, I hope, to begin by
expressing my full conviction that, apart from the particular instance
of my pamphlet, I deserve far more severe judgment than any you
have passed ; and that I am perfectly convinced that, as it is, you
think far better of me than the truth warrants. I say this, I trast,
with perfect sincerity, and I hope you will do me the justice to bear
it in mind during this letter, if what I shall say may appear either
egotistical or self-complacent. I hope then that it is from no
unwillingness to bear blame that I have wished to write; but as my
faults, such as they are, have not in general, so far as I can see, any
direct connection with (what I am very sorry that you consider) ex
treme opinions [and are not such as others holding those opinions
are inclined to], — both for the sake of those others and of the opinions
themselves, it seemed better to say what might be said. And as to
those others, as I understand from Oakeley there was some mis
understanding, I might mention that A., B.,^ and J. Morris (I think
also T. Morris) have expressed to me in the strongest terms their
agreement with my pamphlet ; and that they have all, I know quite
well, to say the least, quite as much tendency to Eome as myself.
To make an end of this part of the subject. There is one of
those faults which I suppose any one would observe in me, which
might appear connected both Avith what are called strong opinions
and with my pamphlet, viz. my tendency to unreal and hasty tatt
ing. I hope in this respect I am a good deal better than I was ;
but at all events as to my pamphlet I had the danger of it continu
ally before my thoughts, and endeavoured to check it as far as
possible, and abstained from saying some things I was inclined to
say. The fact also of both Newman and Oakeley seeing it would
be a further check."
Dr. Pusey had remonstrated vrith him for the positiveness
of the tone of the pamphlets, which did not, he said, become
so young a man. In reply to this, Mr. Ward writes : —
" But I feel myself that a preliminary step requires explanation
and apology, viz. so young a man writing at all on the subject ;
especially a young man so recently saved from heretical opinions,
and still probably in consequence imbued with so much of the
heretical spirit. I answer (1) that it was not on a point of theology
at all, nor, as I say in my second pamphlet, on a point on which
' Mentioning two members of the Oxford school who have in the event
remained Anglicans.

TRACT NO. go 179

moral qualities are of especial importance ; but almost entirely
intellectual acuteness : and this, rightly or Avrongly, I believe myself
to possess. (2) It was a point to which, from circumstances, 1 had
paid particular attention. When I was ordained deacon, I signed
the Prayer-book and Articles pretty much in Dr. Amold's sense of
them. At that time one of my brother Fellows had scruples in
signing my testimonials, and this of course led me to a careful con
sideration of the question. On the other hand, when ordained
priest (two years and a half subsequently), I signed them in their
catholic sense, and then, too, I was naturally led to the renewed
consideration of the question on a different side : nor do I hesitate
to say that I felt on the whole more difficulty the second time than
the first." He then refers, in the passage quoted earlier (p. 162), to
the feeling in the University as to the disingenuousness of the
Tract, and to his fear lest the mild interpretation Avhich Pusey
hiraself was known to be preparing might blind people to its
true significance. So much as to his reasons for Avriting. As
to his tone he says : —
"On the subject of my 'positive tone,' I may say that I Avas
very anxious to avoid such, though I may very likely have been
unsuccessful. The only subjects on which any other tone seemed
wrong were points of catholic faith and practice. On them I
thought it would be uncharitable, as well as otherwise Avrong, to
speak of them as matters of opinion or as admitting of doubt,
merely because very great numbers in our Church unhappily doubt
them : it seemed in a smaller way like a Christian missionary Avho
in a heathen country should seem to the people merely to recom
mend to them Christianity, not as the true religion Avhich claimed
acceptance and was certainly true, but as the purest form of theism
and for which there were probable arguments."
So far as the sentiments expressed in the two pamphlets
were concerned, the two points upon Avhich Dr. Pusey had
taken him to task were the strong condemnation of the
Eeformers and Eeformation, and his openly avowed admiration
for the existing Eoman system. On the former point he pleads
guUty without reserve. His bad opinion of them originated,
he says, long before he joined the Movement. He proceeds as
foUows : —
" I think it was far from unlikely that Avhen I became serious
enough (if ever I should do so) to really feel such questions as of
practical importance, 1 might have joined the Roman Church ; such
a book, e.g. as Milner's Letters to a Prebendanj, seemed quite con-

i8o TRACT NO. go chap."
elusive to me against the Eeformation. I am quite certain 1 never
. could have followed the Tracts' teaching as long as the Avriters
upheld that movement : my conscience would not have aUowed it.
Then out came Froude, of which it is little to say that it delighted
me more than any book of the kind I ever read : from that time
began my inclination to see the truth Avhere I trust it is. The
especial charm in it to me was, combined on the other hand with
his great strictness, his hatred of our present system and of the
Eeformers, and his sympathy with the rest of Christendom. And
surely it is not wrong for a private person to follow the judgment
of such as NeAvman, Keble, and Froude on such a question ; yet
what more strong censure is it possible to pass on our Reformation
and Reformed Church than this one of Froude's, and this not in a
letter, but intended for publication : ' At length she (the English
Church), under Henry VIIL, fell ; will she ever rise again ? ' ' But
why consider them guilty of perjury?' I will mention exactly
what passed with Newman on that subject. When 1 got to that
part of my pamphlet and read these words, he smiled a good deal
and said, ' Yes ; I don't see how that can do other than follow : but
you know history is not my line, you must speak to the fact,' — to
the fact, of course, that they took the oath of obedience to the Pope.
I think that if we read in Le Bas's Life of Cranmer, e.g. the oath
which he took, and his own secret protest (secret, that is, from the
^l^ope's representatives, and the Pope was the imponens), no other
view than perjury is possible. I think that Le Bas's defence and
Palmer's defence (in his book on the Church), to my mind, by their
futility, only make the charge more certainly true. But indeed I
do not speak of Cranmer especially in my pamphlet, I merely men
tion tbe plain fact that Bishops who had sworn spiritual obedience
to Eome released our Church from that supremacy, i.e. made a
revolution in the Church without the sanction of that power to
which they had sworn spiritual allegiance. Newman, not I, accuses
them of rebellion ; surely the rebellion of those sworn to obey is by
the very force of terms perjury."
On the second point, his admiration for Eome, he was pre
pared to make several qualifications. He admitted the exist
ence of much that was corrupt in her practical teaching, and
more in the habits tolerated among her children. AU he
contended for was, that of the two — the English and the
Eoman — the latter was, in spite of her corruptions, " a great
deal purer . . . her system higher, her sons much more
favoured." Still he wrote : —
" It has always seemed to me most probable, that whatever our
OAvn Church's own faults, to justify a change of comraunion a far

viii TRACT NO. go i8i
more perfect and pure image of a Christian Church ought to be
presented than any which Eome in her present state can offer. I
believe indeed that the points in which I cannot follow your teach
ing are much more connected Arith our own Church than the Eoman;
to the best of my remembrance I follow quite fully all that you say
in your new pamphlet about the latter. You asked J. Morris once
if I was aware of those shocking doctrines being taught; I had
read St. Alphonsus' book about a year ago in French, and was
exceedingly shocked by it, so much so that while NeAvman was
employed upon his letter to Dr. Jelf, I suggested to him whether
he would think it advisable to mention it ; nor do any of Nevnnan's
expressions in that letter go at all beyond what I habitually feel on
the corruptions encouraged by the Church of Rome. What New
man expresses in the passage quoted in my pamphlet from the
British Critic has been long my full conviction, that all branches of
the Church since the schism of the sixteenth century have been so
lamentably corrupt that without faith in the promises of permanence
we could hardly believe the Church still to exist upon earth ; — and
the fact of such general corruption is in itself so awful and subduing
that it is sad work to cast stones at each other. From what you
said to Oakeley it has struck me that you would not consider it any
disrespect, but rather the reverse, if I should speak as plainly as
possible to you on all present theological subjects on Avhich I feel
strongly, and accordingly 1 have the less scruple in putting out more
clearly what seems to me to be so corrupt in our oavu Cliurch, and
I have therefore thought over the matter a little, to draw out Avhat
was implicitly in my mind, and though Avell aware I shall not be
able nearly to state the full amount of my feeling on the subject I
will do my best.
" The present condition, then, of our Church seems to me corrupt
in every sense in which we can use the word, except so far as cor
ruption implies the perversion of truth, and in some respects our
Church would rather appear to be Avithout the truth than to have
perverted it : but then such imperfections (to use Newman's phrase
in his new article) would seem even Avorse than corruptions. The
present condition of our Church seems to me to have had its origin
in rebellion, perjury, and in the most shameless Erastianism. Such
as was its beginning seems on the Avhole to have been its course. I
am, of course, not denying that it has given birth to eminently holy
men, but speaking of its course as a Avhole, as acting externally, it
has from first to last acted Avith the Protestant body against the
Catholic all over Europe ; in other Avords, encom-aged schismatics in
their rebellion against the Church throughout AA'estern Christendom."
He proceeds to iUustrate this, and then sums up the con
trast betAveeu the shortcomings of the two Churches thus : —

1 82 TRACT NO. go

" Her [the Roman Church's] change seems to have been (as it is
• often expressed) objective, ours (which seems a much more radical
change) subjective. With all her corruptions, with all her tolera
tion of a low standard in the mass of men (which I am far from
wishing to defend, yet not lower than what we tolerate), she has
always held up for the veneration of the faithful the highest stand
ards of holiness ; our line has been to sneer at such as popish and
fanatical ; and what have our authorities done to counteract such a
popular view ? "
The outcome of this general Adew of the Anghcan establish
ment is stated in uncompromising terms. He states his belief
that her " corruptions and imperfections " — of which he has
given, he considers, but an imperfect sketch — " are felt by a
not inconsiderable nuraber of persons to such an extent, that
but for their confidence in Newman, they could not beUeve the
English Church a true Church at all, and do believe it a most
corrupt one. That the Eoman corruptions might strike one
much more than they do if we lived in the midst of them I
can readily beUeve ; but that I have done any justice to the
extent of our own I cannot think."
This attitude towards the Anglican establishment, which
had already been exhibited in conversation with Dr. Pusey,
had drawn from him a retort which was of a kind least to Mr.
Ward's taste. Dr. Pusey treated it as implying that Mr. Ward
felt himself to be above the system — that the system was not
adequate to the demands of exalted spiritual aspirations. Mr.
Ward thus replies : —
"Before ending this part of the subject, I wish to make two
observations. (1.) In answer to an observation you made when I
called on you, that when any one had acted up to the system of our
own Church it was time enough to complain of it, I wish to submit
(a) that, e.g. surely few people acted up to the Jewish law, yet that
would not excuse them in Judaising after Christianity was offered
them ; and so a person painfully conscious of his practice being
below the lowest system may have the power of appreciating a
higher, and if so may have the duty, were it only for the sake of
others, of aiming at its restoration ; and (i) that in this case,
though I am of course far from denying that our condition is most
injurious to the spiritual life of the most holy, yet it is also deficient
in many points which are especially wanted for the less advanced.
The more a person feels his deficiency in the apprehension of unseen
things, the more painfully he [feels the want] of so ' consoling and
impressive ' an image of a visible church, as even Eome displays ;

TRACT NO. go 183

the more difficult he finds his contest with his old nature; the
more he regrets that he has not been trained from the first in
regular confession ; the more he misses the practical rules of conduct
in which Eoman books of devotion abound, drawn from the stores,
which they have retained, of traditional teaching; the more he
misses the guidance of a priest carefuUy educated with a Y\&yj to
the confessional. I most firmly believe, that the great majority of
our priests would laugh at, or at least pity, the scrupulousness of a
tender conscience. Much more, I think, might be said, but let this
suffice in answer to an objection which of course would be especiaUy
painful to one's self, and which if allowed to be valid, would make
it impossible for a person to take the most legitimate measures
towards the restoration of a system which he believes dirinely
appointed, unless he was prepared to publish his opinion that he
had acted fully up to the imperfect one in which he had found
himself. (2.) You will see hoAV very much less I have said in my
pamphlet than what I firmly believe I might most truly have said ;
so that I have at least exerted a certain amount of self-control."
And again he says of his general indictment against the
English Church in the second pamphlet : —
" You will do me the justice to acknowledge [it] is much beloAV
what I have said in this letter, and this again is a good deal below
what I really feel, could I draw it out. So far from putting out
my pamphlet wantonly and lightly I used to lie awake for hours
before it came out, from annoyance at my being the person to say
such things, and thinking over what pain they would give many
persons. Nay, as my friends know, I was quite uuAvell with anxiety
about it."
His last words on the subject run as follows : —
" I do not know that I have anything more to advert to in your
letter. This has already gone out to great length, and I have
written cunenie calamo, so that though I shall read it over before I send
it and take good care it does not misrepresent my opinions, its tone may
appear less respectful to yourself than is the undeviating habit of
my mind. I have been anxious, in comphance Avith your Arish, to
speak as openly as possible, yet I feel how inadequately I have put
forth what I wanted. I do not think, to repeat what I have said
before, that those who are considered extreme are so much bUnd to
the corruptions of Eome, as awake to what they consider corruptions
among ourselves. And I am quite convinced that what I have said
on the latter subject, as it is below my convictions, so is also
below those of several whom I know. I think theh great bond of
union is entire confidence in Newman, and that it is very improbable

i84 TRACT NO. go chap, viii
that any (with perhaps one or two exceptions) wUl change their
position, unless he should by any new phenomena be induced to
lead the way. For my own part I can only repeat that I should
retain no impressions on such subjects which I believed him to dis
approve, and that therefore there is at least one existing check
against extravagance and unreal talk."

CHAPTEE IX
EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT 90
1841-1842
The proceedings against Tract 90 marked an epoch in the
Movement. It was never again what it had been. The
attitude of the Heads of Houses was one of open hostility and
persecution ; and the attitude of the Bishops, though less
pronounced, was similar in character Up to this time the
Movement had not looked beyond the Church of England.
Her authority had been regarded as final, her formularies as
placing an unquestioned limit to speculation. But the action
of the authorities changed all this. While the more moderate
party sorrowfully acquiesced in defeat, the more extreme grew
indignant and rebellious.
Mr. J. A. Froude ^ speaks of the changed state of things as
follows : " Hitherto the Tracts had represented pretty exactly
Anglican Oxford. Though dangerously clever and more
dangerously good, they had never broken bounds, and the
unenthusiastic authorities had found themselves unable to do
more than warn and affect to moderate. . . . Eome Avas never
spoken of as the probable goal of any but a fcAv foolish young
men, whose presence would be injurious to any cause, and
Avho were therefore better in the enemy's camp than at home,
and no worldly interests had yet been threatened with damage,
except perhaps the Friday dinner, and the Lent second course."
]>ut after Tract 90 all this Avas changed. An informal in
quisition was estabUshed, and clerical and academical pre
ferment became dependent on a disavoAval of the opinions
1 Xemcsis of Faith, 137-S.

i86 Events succeeding tract go chap.
expressed in the Tracts. "It became necessary to surrender
Uiitorships, feUowships, and the hopes of them ; to find difficulties
in getting ordained, to lose slowly the prospects of pleasant
curacies and Uvings, and parsonage houses, and the sweet
Uttle visions of home paradises, a serious thing to young High
Churchmen, who were commonly of the amiable enthusiastic
sort, and so, of course, had fallen, most of them, into early
engagements . . . and from this time the leader's foUowers
began to lag behind. ' They turned back, and walked no more
after him.'"
And naturally those who did proceed in their course,
undeterred by persecution, became more uncomproraising in
their advocacy of opinions, for which they were prepared to
endure whatever sacrifice raight be called for.
So far as Mr. Ward was concerned the effect was quickly
raade manifest. Tract 90 had been designed to bind him and
his party closer to the English Church, to enable them with a
free conscience to work within that Church in accordance with
their Adews of the natural and fitting character of the Church
of Christ. The dream of reunion was countenanced by its theory
with respect alike to England and to Eome, but rather as a dream
than as a practical prospect. If the Tract was admitted by
the Church, the dissatisfaction of the extreme party must be
lessened. They had an acknowledged place and work within
the Church of England, on its principles, and had no reason to
look beyond her boundaries. The actual result, however, the
reassertion of the Protestant character of Anglicanism, naturaUy
led to an exactly opposite effect.^ Discontent with the existing
state of things was accentuated ; and for the first time members
of the party began to look directly to Eoman Catholics and
foreign Churches for the sympathy which was denied them
at home. The Tract had not been censured many weeks before
Catholic circles on the continent were aroused by a letter,
addressed originally to the Univers, and afterwards circulated
in CathoUc Germany and Italy, written on Passion Sunday,
dated from Oxford, and subscribed by an anonymous signature,
^ This was as Mr. Newman perceived when he wrote (October 1841), "[The
Tracts] may become just as powerful for Rome if our Church refuses them, as they
would he for our Church if she accepted them.''

IX EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go 187
describing the Catholic leanings of Mr. Newman and his
followers, and appeaUng to the sympathy and co-operation of
the foreign churches in the work of reunion. Mr. David
Lewis, an active member of the party, thus describes its
authorship : " The then much talked of letter to the Univers
was [Ward's] work, done into French by Father Dalgairns
(then a meraber of Exeter CoUege) whose knowledge of French
was greater than that possessed by most of us. . . . The letter
was in a certain sense written conjointly; that is. Father
Dalgairns spoke and Avrote French ' hke a native ' as people
say, being a Guernsey man. But the original conception or
idea of writing came from your father, and the substance of
the letter was his, the words of course being fumished by
Father Dalgairns. . . . The letter Avas in some degree of a
character more Eoman than were the opinions of Father
Dalgairns at that time." The letter was Avritten in the
hortatory style common to French compositions of a similar
description. It began by referring to the AngUcan Church
as " that afflicted Church which has drunk to the dregs
the bitter cup which is now the lot of all the Churches
of Christ." " The eyes of all Christendom," it declared, " are
at this moment turned to England, so long separated from the
rest of Catholic Europe. Everywhere a presentiment is gone
abroad that the hour of her reunion is at hand, and that this
island, of old so fruitful in saints, is once more about to put
forth fruits worthy of the martyi-s Avho have watered it with
their blood. And truly that this presentiment is not un
founded I shall prove to you by a detail of Avhat is now
passing in the University of Oxford, the heart of the Anghcan
Church." The letter proceeds to give an account of Tract 90
and the events succeeding it. " The author of the Tract," it
says, " looks upon the Thirty-Nine Articles as a burden which
God in His anger has placed upon us for the sins of our
ancestors." " You see then," it continues, " that humiUty, the
first condition of every sound reform, is not wanting in us.
We are little satisfied Avith our position ; we groan at the sins
committed by our ancestors in separating from the Cathohc
world. We experience a burning deshe to be reunited Arith
our brethren. We love with unfeigned affection the Apostohc
see, Avhich we acknoAvledge to be the head of Christendom ;

EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go

and the more because the Church of Eome is our mother,
which sent from her bosom the blessed St. Augustine to bring
us her imraovable faith."
It proceeds to vindicate for the English Church the
Apostohcal succession, and to dwell on Eoman practical cor
ruptions, the removal of which is maintained to be indis
pensable if Anglicanism is to unite itself with Eome. The
papac}'' it holds to be an accidental, the episcopal succession
the essential form of a church. It deprecates likewise the
fiolitical aUiance of members of the Eoman Church in England
with Methodists, Quakers, Independents, and even Socinians,
and concludes with the following exhortation to Catholics both
in England and abroad : —
" Let the Eoman Catholics in England labour to reform them
selves ; let them break the bands of worldly policy which unite
them to our schismatics ; let them cease to favour sedition and
treason. These are not the ai'ms of the Church. No ; she has
vanquished the world by her sufferings, fastings, and prayers. We
are told that two orders of monks are just established in England
to labour at our conversion. Let them, I beseech you, leave to
God the care of touching our hearts ; let them abstain from those
unfortunate efforts which have been made against the peace of our
flocks ; let them avoid all endeavour to gain over indiriduals. It
is a long task to gather up a nation bit by bit, atom by atom. I
aim at pointing out to them the means of harvesting the whole
realm, and heaping up its fruits in the granaries of the Church.
Let them labour among the Eoman Catholics ; let them show us
what we have not, the image of a Church perfect in discipline and
in morals ; let her be chaste and beautiful as becomes the divine
spouse of Jesus Christ ; let her chaunt night and day the praises of
her Saviour ; and let even her outward garments be glorious, that
the spectator, struck with admiration, may throw himself at her
feet, seeing clearly in her the well-beloved of the King of Heaven.
Let them go into our great towns to preach the Gospel to the half
pagan populace ; let them walk barefooted, let them be clothed in
sackcloth ; let them carry mortification written on their brow ; let
them, in fine, have amongst them a saint like the seraph of Assissium,
and the heart of England is already gained.
"And this great heart once so Catholic, this poor heart so long
torn by the vigour of its own life (dechirA par la vigueur de sa propre
vie), exhausted in vain efforts to fill up the frightful void which reigns
there, does it not merit some sacrifices on your part, that it may
find consolation and healing ? Oh, how sweet it was for us to learn
that our Catholic brethren prayed for us. The triumphant army in

EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go

heaven prays also for us. It has prayed, I am sure, from the
beginning of these three centuries of schism and of heresy. Why
have not the prayers of St. Gregory, St. Augustine, and St. Thomas
been heard % Because of our sins — the sins not only of England
but of Eome. Let us go and do penance together, and we shall be
heard. During this holy time in which the Church retires to the
depths of the solitude of her soul, following the bleeding feet of her
Divine Master, driven by the spirit into the desert, know that many
of us stretch out our hands day and night before the Lord, and beg
of Him, with sighs and groans, to reunite us to our Catholic
brethren. Frenchmen, fail not to aid us in this holy exercise, and
I am persuaded that many Lents Arill not have passed before w6
shall chaunt together our Pascal hymns, in those sublime accents
which have been used by the Divine spouse of Christ for so many
ages." ^
This letter caused much excitement both at home and abroad,
and an adherent of the more moderate section of the party,
Mr. Hamilton Gray, a clergyman then resident at Carlsbad,
addressed a letter to the Archbishop of Erlau repudiating
the sentiments of the writer, and expressing a doubt as to
his being in reality a member of the Oxford party. ]\lr. Gray
maintained that it was written either by a Low Church Pro
testant, or by a Eoman Catholic who for his own purposes mis
represented the views current at Oxford.- He denied that
the school of Newman wished for any scheme of reunion until
Eome had greatly changed, and unless she renounced the
doctrine of Papal supremacy. Mr. Gray's letter was pub
lished in the Univers, and the writer of the original letter
replied to it. He had no difficulty in proving himself to be,
as he professed, an Oxford student. He hailed Mr. Gray's
letter as an additional augury for good. " If [his] opinions,"
he wrote, '' are those of the more moderate of the CathoUc
party, it will be easily believed that those of which I am the
' The translation here quoted from appeared in the English Catholic organ of
those days, Tlie Orthodox Journal.
' "John Hamilton Gray," writes Dr. Bloxam, "had been a gentleman com
moner of my College (Magdalene) as early as 1818, and I have before me an
account of himself written by himself for my register of the non-foundationers
of Magdalene College. He was a fine handsome-looking man, with fair means —
travelled a good deal abroad, and was admitted into the best society, especially
that of the higher class of ecclesiastics. He was well known to Cardinal AiVise-
man and also to our Anglican Archbishop (Howley)." Archbishop Pyrker of
Erlau, in Hungary, a prelate of great sanctity and talent, made Mr. Gray's
acquaintance at Carlsbad in 1841.

I90 EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go chap.
organ are maintained by the raore advanced of the party. If
Mr. H. Gray's letter had appeared five or six years ago it
would have been disbeheved by many." The English " Eoman "
Cathohc organ. The Orthodox Journal, took the matter up, and
there were leading articles on the subject in the Univers and in
German Catholic papers. No official notice Avas taken by the
University authorities of an anonymous letter; but the fact
remained that its sentiments were not disclaimed by the repre
sentatives of the " extreme " party, and a programme far more
bold and outspoken than anything in Tract 90 was thus prac
ticaUy known to be in contemplation for moving the Anglican
Church in a Eomeward dhection.
Early in the same year in which communication was thus
opened with Catholics abroad, circumstances brought the Oxford
school into connection with members of the Catholic Church ia
England. Mr. A. L. Phillipps of Grace Dieu Manor in Leicester
shire, a Cambridge man who had joined the Catholic Church in
early years, — a man of great piety and zeal, — formed an accidental
acquaintance with Bloxam of Magdalene. The merest chance —
a carriage accident in a Leicestershire lane — brought them
together, and Mr. PhUlipps discovered in the course of conversa
tion that he was speaking to a meraber of the party at Oxford
in which he had taken a lively interest. A friendship was
struck up, and Mr. Bloxam invited hhn to Oxford. Here he met
Mr. Ward. Zeal for the reunion of Churches was on both sides a
bond of sympathy, and the two men sat up half the night on
their first introduction discussing the prospects of Christendom.
Mr. Ward was invited to meet a party of Catholics at Grace
Dieu, to visit Oscott, and to see the Cistercian Monastery of
Mount St. Bernard's. Informal communications were also
opened with Bishop Wiseman. The conditions for reunion
were discussed. The schemes proposed were Utopian, and
many who were eager for them have in the event remained
staunch Anghcans. But they were a witness to the irritation
caused by the action of the Heads and Bishops, and to its
tendency to drive men towards Eome. Mr. Ward himself,
whUe deeply interested in the subject, was persistent in his
opposition to any sudden step, and for a time at least urged
that members of both Churches should confine theh energies to
the reform of the abuses which disfigured each.

J^ VENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go 191
That this feehng, however, was mainly grounded on his confi
dence in NcAvman appears from the letters to Mr. PhiUipps given
below. It wiU be seen frora one of them that he was prepared for
a Eomeward movement in company Arith his leader, and had at
one tirae contemplated it, under a mistaken impression that
Newman looked upon such a step as immediately practicable.
Mr. Phillipps had urged that the Fathers of Charity, the order
of the great Italian reformer Antonio Eosmini, then represented
in England by the exceUent and pious Father GentUi, should
open their order at once to the Oxford school, and adapt its
rules to their position and antecedents. The scheme, lioAvever,
resulted only in opportunities for cordial meetings between the
Oxonians and the friends of Mr. PhiUipps and Father GentiU.
The idea itself met Avith no encouragement from NeAvman or
from responsible members of the party.
StiU more urgent were the heads of the party against the
movement of individuals. The hope seems stUl to have been
entertained that corporate reunion might be later effected ; and
until this was abandoned the only feasible course was to act in
concert. This state of things continued in full force up to
about 1843, as we shall see later on.
Mr. Ward paid two visits to the a\' ell -known Catholic
College at Oscott. The first was in company with Oakeley on
28th July 1841.'' The impressions produced by it are thus
recorded in a letter from Dr Bloxam to Mr. PhUlipps: —
" Oakeley and Ward both concur Avith me in expressions of
delight at the truly Catholic rj^os of St. Mary's College, Oscott.
Ward wishes to see the place again when the boys are there, and if
you allow, will drop in on you by the way. If you and your friends
at Oscott are now plagued with Oxford spies you must throAv the
blame on me, as my description has excited the curiosity of many.
Ward was especially pleased Avith ]\Ir. Logan, Avhich I am not sur
prised at."
The second visit to Oscott Avas on occasion of his fii-st visit to
Mr PhiUipps at Grace Dieu. Here the Catholic liturgy — carried
out as it Avas very fully and carefuUy — and the sight, too, of the
ascetic life of the monks at Mount St. Bernard's made a great
impression on Ward. The monastic habits Avere a practical Ulus-
> " Oakeley and AVard go down to-morrow to see St Chad's and Oscott. Mr.
Hardman has politely oflfered to show them whatever th«y may be allowed to see."
(Extract from a letter dated 'irth July, from J. B. Bloxam to A. L. Phillipps.)

192 EVENTS Sun..c.£.uiiVLr iK^^ci go uhap.
tration of the " interior hfe " which he had studied in Eodriguez
and St. Ignatius. Tennyson teUs us that "things seen are
mightier than things heard," and he returned to Oxford more
Eoman than ever. He begins a letter to Mr. PhiUipps soon
after his visit as follows : — " I cannot help beginning by the
expression of my very great obligation to you for your thought
ful kindness during the week I was with you, and the gratitude
I must ever feel to you for having procured me the happiest
week, I raay almost say, I ever spent."
Mr. Bloxam again chronicles the effect of his visit to
Oscott in a letter to Mr. PhUlipps, dated 12th October 1841:- —
"Ward, who only arrived yesterday, came in to me about ten
o'clock last night, and we had a long talk together. He seems to
have been even more delighted with his visit to Oscott, etc., than
myself, if that were possible. I cannot, of. course, tell you all
that he said, but as I anticipated, he came away deeply impressed."
Mr. Ward himself has referred to his impressions of
Oscott in the Ideal of a Christian Church. The questions con
nected with the raoral and religious training of boys had long,
as we have seen, been supremely interesting to him ; and its
very imperfect character in the great public schools, excepting
in the case of Arnold's Eugby, was a matter on which he felt
very strongly. The regular discipline of a Catholic college, and
the constant recognition of the supernatural world in all duties
and occupations throughout the day, were most refreshing to
him. After drawing a disparaging picture of the average Pro
testant pubhc school in this respect, he continues : —
" Consider as a contrast to this some particulars in the plan pursued
at St. Mary's, Oscott, which I the rather mention because I may add
from my OAvn personal observation . . . that a more lively and
joyous assemblage of boys and young men, with greater appearance
of youthful happiness and buoyancy, and more complete absence of
the most distant approach to gloom or restraint of manner, I can
never expect to behold. All, at a fixed time in each evening, perform
theh examen of conscience. All above the age of seven go regu
larly to confession, few I believe less frequently than once in a
fortnight, insomuch that the routine of study is altogether interfered
Arith on the Saturday that time may be given for this holy exercise.
Every time they go into the public study or into a class, a prayer
with Veni sancte spiritus, etc., is recited by the person on duty or
the Professor, so that every new act of study is commenced hy

IX EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go 193
prayer. At the three different times in the day when the ' Angelus '
sounds the appropriate prayer is recited ; if it be in recreation time
play is for a few minutes suspended. In the course of every day
all attend mass, hear a chapter of the New Testament, a risit is
made to the Blessed Sacrament with an appropriate prayer, and part
of some spiritual work is read and explained if necessary by each
master to his class."
In the midst of these communications with English
Catholics came Mr. Sibthorp's conversion; — the first plain
example which opponents could point to of positively " Eomish "
fruits of the Moveraent. Mr. Phillipps was about to start for
Oxford, for further discussion of his favourite scheme, but the
excitement at the University was naturaUy great, and as it
seemed undesirable to receive Catholics at such a moment, the
visit, was postponed, , The details of Mr. Sibthorp's change of
position, to which Mr. Ward refers later in his letters, are given
to me by Dr. Bloxam in the following terms : —
" Sibthorp was a special friend of mine. He had been gradually
rising from a low church state, and was developing in his chapel at
Ryde. About the middle of October 1841 became suddenly to
rae at Magdalene College, of which he was hiraself a Fellow, and
asked me to write to Bishop Wiseman to give him an audience at
Oscott, since he wished to consult him about a meraber of his con
gregation who had just been, or was about to be, a convert to the
Church of Rome. The Bishop replied and appointed a day, which
was probably the 23d October, or thereabouts. Sibthorp returned
to me in a few days, having been himself received at Oscott. This
Avas the first secession of that time, and made a great sensation.
Newman always thought that a man ought to take two years in
considering such a step before he took it, and Avas consequently
much disgusted at Sibthorp not taking more than two days. For
he certainly went to Oscott without the slightest intention of doing
so. Newman was coming to call upon me, and met him in the
cloister of Magdalene College. Sibthorp said, 'I am going to
Oscott.' Newman replied, ' Take care they do not keep you there.'
When Sibthorp carae back to Oxford NcAvman called on me, and
Avarned me against monkeys avIio had lost their tails and wished
every one to lose theirs. He always said that Sibthorp went over
on Wesleyan principles. . . . The conversion made me very sad, for
it checked at once the correspondence between me and A PhilUpps
on the reunion of Churches, Avhich Avas thus rendered, as I thought,
impossible ; and when A. PhiUipps proposed to pay me a visit on
the 9th November following, when the sensation Avas at its height,
I thought the visit ill-timed and probably did not encourage it."
0

194 EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go chap.
Mr. Sibthorp came back to the Anglican Church within two
years, and a fresh argument was supplied against any precipi
tate movement towards Eome.
The foUowing letters, written by Mr. Ward in tbe course of
the years 1841-1843, give an indication of the state of things
at Oxford during those years, and of his own frame of mind.
The first was written to Bloxam within a month of the
appearance of Tract 90, on the first intimation of Mr. Phillipps'
views and wishes with respect to reunion.
"Vigil of the Ankunoiation, 1841.
"My dear Bloxam, — I am very much delighted Arith Mr
Phillipps' letters which you have kindly shown me, and cannot
resist saying a few Avords to convey to him how deeply I sympathise
Arith his generous Christian wishes for our Church. For my own
part, 1 believe it is hardly beyond the truth to say that some of my
strongest religious impressions were derived from the Eoman
Catholic services in London, which I used frequently to attend;
and the restoration of active communion with that Church is the
most enchanting earthly prospect on which my imagination can
dwell. Would that the time for that reunion were as near as Mr.
PhiUipps in his earnest vrish for it considers it to be. But so much
at least is plain, that while good is mutually attractive, eril is
mutually repulsive ; and so long (alas, that it must be said) as the
governing spirit in both Churches is carnal and political, seeking
objects of this earth, as Churches they must remain estranged from
each other as at present. Nor should it be taken to show that
many of us here are less earnestly anxious for the great consumma
tion than Mr. Phillipps himself, that they are less sanguine as to its
immediate accomplishment, and desirous to put off for the present
any direct step towards it. For, not to dwell on the far greater
experience which we have than Mr. Phillipps can have of the
obstacles arising from the general feeling in our own body, there is
this great difference between us, that while we feel deeply how much
of Christian privilege Ave lose by our state of isolation, we humbly
trust we are not by it altogether cut off in the sight of God from
communion Arith the mystical body of Christ (see Newman's article
in British Critic on the ' Catholicity of the English Church '), while he
seems on the whole to think (I suppose it almost necessarily follows
from his position that he should think) that we are; so that his kind
interest in our welfare Arill, of course, lead him to be more com
paratively anxious than we should be for a speedy rather than a
complete and healthy reunion. In the meantirae we owe a debt of
gratitude more than can be expressed to those our Christian
brethren who, as Mr. PhiUipps mentions, are engaged in so many

IX EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go 195
places in constant prayer for the restoration of Catholic unity in
England : raay our prayers be joined with theirs, and God in his
good time bring about what He alone can do whose strength is
made perfect in our Aveakness. — Ever, my dear Bloxam, yours most
sincerely, W. G. Warb."
Next comes a letter Avritten to Mr. PhilUpps in October
1841 — not long after Mr. Ward's visit to Grace Dieu — with
reference to one of the schemes which had been suggested to
help the cause of reunion. The scheme had apparently been
discussed with Bishop Wiseman. " October 28, 1841.
"... With regard to tbe earlier part of your letter, you may
perhaps have understood from Bishop Wiseman that we all (naturally
enough, as he acknowledges) misunderstood part of Newman's letter,
and imagined him to have put the case of his own coming over
with others much more positively than he ever intended to put it.
His feeling on the subject seems to be, or rather certainly is, that
we ought hardly to look forward beyond the present hour, but wait
in quietness and obedience for plainer indications of God's Avill con
cerning us ; that we have hitherto been so singularly guided and
protected, things have so bafiled in their issues all human calcula
tion, that any more self-willed course of conduct may forfeit to any
extent the blessings which we humbly hope are in store for us. The
message might come to us any day Avhich would warn us to change
our position ; it may be a duty for many years to remain as we are :
but what he wished to urge upon Mr. Spencer^ Avas this, — that
whatever became of individuals, the English Church could never
be conciliated except by a certain course of conduct. All this being
so, your kind communication about the order of charity is of less
certain and iraraediate importance than it otherwise might be ;
though of course it might become of the most pressing interest any
single day. Still I trust it may be said that on the Avhole your
and my own final object are the same : you cannot be more anxious
than I am for the return of the greatest possible number of English
men in the most CathoUc and Christian temper possible to risible unity ;
I should perhaps be hardly raore anxious than you that many things
which we consider corruptions in the foreign churches should be
amended or at least protested against. Considering ourselves then
as embarked on the Avhole in a common cause, would you kindly
look upon anything I say as suggestions to one on the same side for
promoting the comraon object, rather than as complaints or recrimi
nations against an opponent. From our position we must see many
things much more clearly than yourselves with regard to your pros
pects of success in England ; just as you see better than we the
' Father Ignatius Spencer, the celebrated Passionist.

196 EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go chap.
practical working of your system abroad. What I have to say in
answer to your kind criticism on my article Arill come in better after
I have said the rest of my say. I Avill only noAV protest against
the idea that I can be offended by the most free reraarks upon it.
Hanc veniam petimusgue damusque mcissim, there is no hope of getting
on unless we use the greatest freedom in our coraraunications ; and
I hope in this letter myself to exercise the same licence.
" On the subject of the order of charity you have not entered
explicitly into what seems to me the most important part of the
matter. The chief thing I was anxious to ascertain Avas, hoAV far it
could go avowedly upon the principle of especial culte of the Fathers,
or again of making our Lord the prominent object of teaching more
than seems at present usually the case in your comraunion : using,
for instance, the crucifix and other such external symbols rather
than images of B.V.M., etc. I am not speaking of any of this as
essential ; nay, as far as my argument is concerned, not as in itself
desirable ; but I am saying that you can have no idea of the effect
it would have on the minds of many of us, were it possible that such
a bond of union could be put prominently forward by a religious
body acting under the Pope. Nothing can be more beautiful, edify
ing, and unexceptionable than the Maxims of Christian Perfection by
Rosmini, which Dr. Gentili was kind enough to give me ; but then,
on the other hand. Dr. Gentili himself, who is one of the order, is,
as you told me yourself, far from patristically inclined, being in fact
raore modern and Roman, I suppose, than the average of your
priests. You know too well my deep veneration for him to imagine
that I say this disparagingly : I merely mention it as an adverse
phenoraenon as regards this order. But speaking in general, the
more you can, after mature deliberation and Avith high sanction,
offer Nevnnan and others a refuge where they would be protected
and countenanced in their feeling upon such points as I spoke at
length about to yourself and Bishop Wiseman, so much the more
by a great deal will be your chance of giving Newman, should he
come to you, a large following ; and also so much the more wUl you
save his reputation among those who remain behind, by giving him
the power of saying: 'I protested against Rome on account of
certain doctrines she practically professes ; behold, in going over, I
have a public protection against being expected to profess such
doctrines.' This is the sort of consideration I wished you kindly to
enter upon and send the result in writing of your mature thoughts :
perhaps you might still be kind enough to bear it in raind, for I am
sure it is hardly possible to overrate its importance."
The letter was continued after Mr Sibthorp's conversion : —
" Tuesday.
" 1 am quite ashamed of having put off so long my continuation
of this letter, but must trust to your kindness to pardon me. I

IX EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go 197
have had a good many interruptions of one kind or another. In
the meantime we have heard of Mr. Sibthorp's change of position,
and are very anxious about what the effect may be as soon as it is
generaUy known. In the meantime I hope you will not think us
very rude, but Bloxam is particularly anxious that you should fix
some other time for coming to Oxford ; for it vrill be for all of us a
most diflScult matter to arrange while this news of Mr. Sibthorp is
fresh. Especially as Bloxam would entertain you at Magdalene, and
as that is also Mr. Sibthorp's college, the Fellows there might very
much dislike Bloxam having so soon a Roraan Catholic friend vrith
him ; or might indeed imagine that he was to go next. I spoke
to Mr. S. on Saturday on what seems to Nevnnan a particularly
important subject, and which I will now go on to mention to you.
Very often one gets impressions at a particular time Avhich are
Vague and floating, and which afterwards one reduces into shape
and consistency. This is my case with regard to what I felt both
with you and at Oscott in one particular. I felt somehow that our
way of looking at the progress of things within our Church was so
different. I have been thinking it over a good deal since, and I
will try to express it in a few words ; Avhich you Avill not, of course,
regard as intended in attack of you, but rather looking upon you
and us as fellow- workers in the same holy cause. We are very
anxious both to give and receive suggestions as to matters of fact
Avhich on both sides from our position we may mistake. You did
not, then, seem to me any of you to feel the dreadful amount of
laxity and practical (almost) antinomianism which had pervaded the
English Church, and still is lamentably prevalent within it ; nor did
you accordingly seem aware of the inestimable value of the serrices
of Dr. Pusey and others, in infusing so widely an opposite spirit. It
is very natural, of course, that you should not at all knoAV this, yet
it is not the less lamentable. Orthodox doctrine on every point is,
I suppose, particularly brought out in places where heresy on those
points is most prevalent ; and accordingly English High Churchmen
are perhaps more sensitive than almost any other Catholics as to
the fact that self-denial and obedience to God's Avill are the appointed
methods for individuals to arrive at true doctrine. Now I conceive
that your Church, clairMng to be the Catholic Church in England,
should assume this position, that Avherever are found strictness and
purity of life, anxious conscientiousness, etc., there are her friends.
These qualities and the persons possessed of thera really belong to
her, and should be looked on as secret fellow-Avorkers with her. To
bo anxious for individuals to join her by short cuts (if I may use
such an expression) is to take up a sectarian position, and seem
rather to think of the temporal welfare of the Roman Church than
of promoting God's glory as He Avould have it. In proportion, on
the one hand, as the Roman Church displays herself in her true

198 EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go chap.
colours as the visible image of sanctity and purity, and in proportion,
on the other, as individuals advance in obedience and the spiritual
life, in that proportion (if she be the Catholic Church) will tliey
recognise her claims and join her, not from sudden impulse, but from
the deliberate adhesion of their Avhole nature. I reraeraber in our
journey to Oscott I was rather scandalised at your approval of per
sons joining you from sesthetical considerations. I retract my dis
approval of that sentiment, and acknowledge that persons may be
brought through that to higher things. Still, the appointed and
legitimate mode of arriving at truth is surely the one I have
described. The scholastic doctrine of ' congruity ' is precisely in
point. Believing yourselves, then, to be the true Church, in consist
ency you must believe that the spirit working at present Arithin the
English Church is certain in God's good time to bring His elect to
you, however much they may now blasphemously slander you : and
it is, therefore, much more for God's final glory that you sjrmpathise
Avith and pray for those who through the English Church are
preaching the true doctrine of the Cross, obedience and self-denial,
to the overthrow of Lutheran heresy, than that you should show
anxiety for the immediate union of some few individuals.
" Now there are persons in our Church (I may take I. Williams,
who wrote the work on the Passion which you admired so much as
one remarkable instance, but I could name many such), who are
models of primitive piety, simplicity, devotion and self-sacrifice; who
from their very feeling of reverence for what they have been taught,
are sadly mistaken as to your real character. Some of them even
use against you most harsh and bitter language, not realising what
they say, but using words they have been taught and accustomed to
use. Yet you should, as I would venture to urge, look upon these
men as really in God's sight as much as any men fellow-workers
with you ; for they are fostering and inculcating those very habits
which, if you are the Church, are sure to lead men to you. Yet it
seemed to me that those of you whom I heard speak had hardly
more sympathy with such men than, with raging 'Evangelicals.'
Let me again repeat, I am not speaking as if you were to blame in
this. It is our misfortune on both sides to know so little of each
other ; but it is much to be lamented. And mark the effect on
the other side ; these excellent persons I speak of are confirmed in
their rejection of your claims by observing how comparatively little
strictness as such is S3nnpathised with by you, and claimed as on
your own side ; and out of (what even you consider) the whole
Catholic system how little is fully appreciated by you when
exhibited, except that part peculiar to yourselves. I don't know
whether I make myself at all plain ; I shall try to put it out a good
deal more at length in an article I am writing for the British Critic,
and which may possibly appear in January. Accordingly I shall

IX EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go 199
be glad to hear from you in time, both whether you understand
what I mean, and also whether by chance my impression is errone
ous as to your general feeling. I have been myself a good deal
shocked by finding in an interriew with I. WUliams how very
strongly he felt against you ; and am therefore the more anxious .
that you should at least know what a difficulty is thrown in the
way of our common hopes by whatever may even seem to mark
your communion as leavened with a Protestant, or sectarian, or
worldly character. In a word, in return for your charging me with
Protestantism, I charge you with implicit and unconscious Lutheran
ism : no sympathy is felt for the inculcation of habits of self-denial
and scrupulous obedience till they are developed into veneration of
saints and love of ceremonial. I send you the books you Arished to
have. I should like you to begin by reading the twelfth, tAventy-
second, and twenty-third sermons of Newman's fourth volume. You
Avill observe that his first volume is a good deal less glowing and
affectionate than the others ; and both in the first and second you
Avill see the hateful nature of the heretical feeling which he had
chiefly to oppose. In his work on ' Justification ' you must remem
ber that by the 'Roman' view he means not the 'Tridentine'
decrees, but those decrees as commented on by Bellarmine and his
school ; he considers his own views to be almost identical with those
of St. Thomas. You must also remember that he was obliged, in
order to get a hearing, to say all he honestly could against Rome.
" The ninth, tenth, and eighteenth of the third volume Arill also
please you. I should very much like Bishop Wiseman, and any
other person at Oscott who is interested in the matter, to read any
of the sermons you would recommend; also if this letter is not very
stupid and unintelligible (which I very much fear it is) I should
rather like you, if you happen to see the Bishop, to read the latter
part of it to him. Apologising again for having kept you so long
without an answer, and begging my kind regards to Mrs. A. PhiUipps,
believe me, yours very sincerely, W. G. Ward."
Letter from W. G. Ward to A. L. Phillipps.
"In 'Octava'S.S. Inxocentium, 1842.
" I am ashamed of having left you so long without a full ansAver
to your letter, for Avhich I am much obliged. You must, I fear,
make up your raind to find me a bad correspondent, as all my
friends do ; and I have felt in addition that I had so much to say
that I Avas afraid of beginning. I am glad you sent for Palmer's
letter ; though there are one or two things in it you a\tU not Uke.
The most important part of his case is that he is not a follower of
Newman at all, but of an altogether distinct school, which makes it
more cheering and hopeful to find hoAV much trath he has attained.
What wUl be the issue of our present excitement it is impossible to

2O0 EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go chap.
guess ; perhaps the most ominous thing we have yet seen is the
Archbishop of Canterbury's answer to the address of the Cheltenham
laymen. Considering his proverbial caution it looks as if something
serious were really meditated against us. On the other hand, one
.cannot expect that your own members vrill not be anxious for a
speedy reunion of forces ; and of course if it be a duty (in your
opinion) to join, nothing more can be said. But as a question of
expediency, I am far more convinced than when with you that our
best hope by far is to stay and work in our respective churches.
The signs on many sides of our own merabers becoraing more
Catholic are more in number and in promise than you probably
imagine ; and if this clamour would only subside, and leave people
in quiet to carry out to their consequences the doctrines they profess
to hold, the most happy results must follow. But it seems daily
more uncertain Avhether this opportunity will be given. Newman
has been preaching some most striking sermons during Advent on
the notes of the Chmxh, and the duty of staying where we are. I
think you would have been much pleased, for he neither said nor
implied anything whatever against Rome, and spoke of the visible
notes of our Church as either gone or fast going. But he said that
under our circumstances those who were within our Church ought
not to leave her communion so long as they have proof of our
Lord's presence with her by their progress in holiness and power of
avoiding sin. His argument went to show that even were we in
strictness no part of the Church at all, still we should be bound to
stay where we are and work towards unity. .He instanced Elijah
who, though so favoured as to appear with Moses at the transfigura
tion, yet was never in communion with the centre of unity. Even
when Israel was at its worst he did not fulfil the precept of unity ;
he passed by Jerusalem and went on to Mount Sinai. He threw
himself on antiquity. ' We must,' he said, ' remedy the sin of Ahab
before we go to remedy the sin of Jeroboam.' In other words, we
must make the English Church as a body orthodox in doctrine, that
she raay be ready healthily to unite vrith Christendom. 1 may add
to yourself . . . that within the last month he has been favoured
with singular intimations of Christ's presence in the sacraments of
our Church. He mentioned in his sermons, also, that many death
beds in our Church afford the strongest proof that we are not
deserted by Him.
" 1 have been spending Christmas with Oakeley in London.
He has a little room in his house fitted up like a chapel in which he
with a few friends daily recites most part of the holy oflSce. On
Christmas Eve we had our own service in his public chapel at nine
o'clock in the evening, attended by about 150 people, with beautiful
music and a very nice short lecture ; we then went over to his
house and recited vespers and compline. Then to tea, and after

IX EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go 201
tea the nocturns for Christmas day, so as to begin lauds as nearly
as possible at midnight. Next morning at seven he had his boys
over, and we opened with the 'Adeste fideles' and his family
prayers, which are as nearly as may be translated from Prime.
Our own service took up the rest of the day, but in the evening Ave
had again vespers and compline. We have had the whole of some
oflRces for many days, and I can't tell you how delighted I have
been. I had no idea before of the exceeding beauty of the Catholic
service as a whole, and I hope, if possible, to get up a small sodality
on my return to Oxford to join in the same services.
"... I am anxious to hear your present feelings about our
position and prospects. I have found to a greater extent than
¦ I anticipated objections to an immediate union with St. Peter's
See, even in persons very catholicly disposed ; which the more
impresses on my mind the great importance (if it be lawful) of
remaining in our present position with the hope of ' poisoning ' as
many as possible."
The next letter refers to an article in the Dublin Bevicw,
attributed to Mr. Phillipps, upon the Oxford party. The
letter was written, apparently, very soon after Mr. Sibthorp's
return to the Anglican communion, which fixes the date
approximately. Mr. Sibthorp carae back in October 1843.
" My dear Mr. Phillipps — I cannot forbear from Avriting to
thank you for the extreme kindness of tone displayed toAvards
myself in an article which I understand is yours in the noAV Duhlin
Beview. It will not, I think, serve any good purpose to discuss the
points at issue between us ; but merely that you may not mistake
me, I wish to say that, speaking only for myself, I have a more
certain conviction that it is my i)resent duty to stay Avhere I am,
than I can possibly have on the subject of the Pope's abstract
claims; as in my opinion i)ersons of any seriousness have more means
of knowing their own immediate duty than of proving any general
principle which does not directly appeal to the conscience. Were
you to prove ever so clearly (though of course I am convinced you
could not do so) that my opinions on these respective subjects are
mutually irreconcilable, you would make me abandon my faith in
the Pope, not my conviction of present duty. By this tune you
have doubtiess heard of Mr. Sibthorp's step. How unspeakably
dreadful : it makes one sick to think of it. I hear that quite
moderate people among ourselves are extremely disgusted. But
might I be allowed to observe that you Roman Catholics really
don't knoAV what you are doing, Avhen you endeavour to weaken the
force of those feelings which restrain people from any change not
distinctly placed before them by Providence ; and that I for one

202 EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go chap.
should not be altogether surprised at other steps of a similar nature,
if you were to succeed in your attempts to make converts in a
similar manner. I hope this Avill not appear unkind, considering
how deeply you must feel his miserable procedure ; you can hardly
be more shocked by it than those are with whom I most agree (I
mean such as Oakeley and many others). His reception among us
AviU be, I fully expect, of the raost repulsive character ; I for one
shall decline any intercourse with him whatever. Will you give
my kindest remembrances to Mrs. A. Phillipps, and .believe me, my
dear Mr. Phillipps, very sincerely yours, W. G. Ward.
" I return to Oxford on Thursday."
Meantime Newman was winding up his accounts with the
Movement. It was between July and November 1841 that
he received the three blows which, as he has told us, " broke
him." He set to work at Littlemore at his translation of St.
Athanasius, and it came upon hira in the course of his work
that once more St. Augustine's securus judicat, with its ominous
condemnation of the Anglican position, was exhibited in the
history of the Primitive Church. " The pure Arians were the
Protestants, the semi - Arians were the Anglicans, and Eome
now was where it was then."^ Next came the Bishops'
charges; one after another condemned Tract 90. At first he
thought of protesting. " If the view [advocated by the Tract]
Avere silenced I could not remain in the Church," he wrote,
" and therefore since it is not silenced, I shall take care to
show that it isn't." But in the end he abandoned the thought
of a protest, as he tells us, "in despair." Then came the
Jerusalem bishopric, the project on the part of the Archbishop
of Canterbury of combining with the Protestant Church of
Prussia in the appointment of a Bishop of Jerusalem. This
was the last and heaviest of the blows. The English Church
was renouncing its claim to be a branch of the Catholic body.
It was avowedly acting with Protestants as a Protestant
Church. Catholic views, as he said in the protest against the
measure which he sent to the Archbishop of Canterbury, " as
far as the Church has lately spoken out, are not merely not
sanctioned . . . but not even suffered."
His visits to Littlemore became less frequent only because
they became longer; and about the end of 1842 he betook
himself thither to reside there exclusively. He coUected
1 Apologia, p. 139 seg.

IX EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go 203
round him some younger friends and foUowers, who lived a
community life of regular religious observances, and he retired
permanently from active leadership. " I had . . . given up
the contest . . ." he writes, " and my part in it had passed
into the hands of others." ^ For the rest of his time, until he
joined the Catholic Church in 1845, he remained, as we see in
the Apologia, too uncertain either to maintain the Anghcan
position or to adopt the Eoman.
The relations at this time between Newman and Ward
were somewhat complex. Ward's loyal devotion to the leader
Avho had first won his allegiance to the Movement was
notorious ; but it was neither in accordance with his nature,
nor with his habits of constant and exhaustive discussion on
the gi'eat question with all his friends, to remain passive,
waiting for Newman's next " move." With the most absolute
behef in Newman's power to settle the various difficulties
which arose, he constantly referred to him to gain lus im-
primatitr for the fresh conclusions or fresh arguments Avhich
the day's conversation had brought before him as necessary to
their position.
So long as Newman had been quite confident of his ground
this was possibly not unacceptable to him, as putting before
him questions which were current in the University, and of
which he ought to take account in his AA-ritings. But as time
went on and he felt doubtful of his position, and the heavy
responsibility faced him of throwing the weight of his opinion
into one scale or another, this constant questioning, as he has
plainly intimated in the Apologia, annoyed and perplexed him.^
He could not meet each question to his satisfaction, and yet
he felt it unfair and out of accord Avith his judgment that he
should advance at the pace at which Ward's daily logical con
clusions called on him to advance. In spite of Ward's loyal
devotion, and in spite of the affection which Newman had for
those who depended on his daily counsels, there was a difference
of method, of temperament, in some sense of aim, which made
the two men almost at cross purposes.
Their relations hi connection Avith Tract 90 may perhaps
be taken as typical of the general difference between them.
I Apologia, p. 293.
' Apologia, p. 164, seq. See also infra, Appendix F.

204 EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go chap.
Tract 90 had, as Ave have seen, been suggestive of much
more than the actual position it had defended. Those Avho
read between the lines could see in its principles a Avider
scope of toleration in the direction of Eome, and a more
unfavourable view of the Eeformers than it plainly advocated.
To some extent, perhaps, the views latent in it were (fjcovavra
a-vv€Toiai, and were not more openly expressed because its
author might not wish to startle men whose thoughts and
difficulties were in other directions, who stood in no need of its
suggestions, and who would not understand them. Even as it
stood, its allowances in the Eoman direction had shocked the
prejudices of a large section. It was written, Newman said,
for one set of raen, and commented on by others. Then again,
some of the more extreme Eoman conclusions deducible from
its principles may not have been contemplated by the writer as
conclusions certainly valid. " Sometimes," he says, " in what I
Avrote 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 to give the consequences of what I had said I had no
answer to give."
But the very points where Newman stopped short were
those which Ward, ahke from his intellectual tempera
ment and frora his position, wished to have explicitly cleared
up. When the Tract was sifted and discussed by men of all
shades of opinion, what was said by some of its enemies
in blame was the very thing which Ward wished to say in
praise of it, — that its principles allowed of the holding, con
sistently with subscription, of aU obligatory Eoman doctrine.
Ward called for a more explicit statement than could be found
in it that Trent and the Articles could both be subscribed at
once. A position short of this would not defend his own
locus standi ; and when Tait, Stanley, Jowett, and other men of
A'arious schools argued the matter out with him, nothing short
of the whole logical defence he had worked out for himself was
adequate to the discussion. But when, in addition, Newman's
reserve, or caution, or imperfect development of his own view,
was stigmatised as disingenuousness, there seemed a further
reason for facing frankly and fully what the Tract did and what
it did not countenance. The utmost directness and openness
seemed to him imperative in the whole matter. He expressed

EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go

this view, as we have seen, in defending himself to Mr. Scott.
" It seems to me," he said, " that some further discussion is
necessary under present circumstances. We cannot expect
people to receive a view in many respects so strange to them
without much difficulty and misgiving; and I feel convinced
the more the matter is sifted on both sides in the right spirit
the more clearly will truth (on whichever side it be) emerge."
And it Avas this constant sifting, in this case and in others, this
worlring out of each view as it came forward in all its conse
quences, this refusal to let it grow in sUence, or to accept it
Avithout comparing it with the riews of others, which, when it
took the form of pressing Mr. Newman himseU for Yes or No
iu the analysis of his own utterances, became graduaUy annoy
ing to him. He loved to give his thoughts to the world as a
poet does, suggestively, subjectively, informaUy, incompletelj',
leaving it for others to learn what they could from him, but
disliking and distrusting all pretence of fuU analysis. But
such an indefinite method, Avith all its charm, from its nature
stopped short where discussion, Avith its necessary element of a
common measure for various minds, begins. And so it Avas
insufficient for the requirements of the Balhol common room.
The difference of method is also to a great extent explained
by the difference in the aim of the two men. i\lr. NcAvman
had to consider, before aU things, the effect of his action on a
large party which had hitherto acknowledged him as their leader,
and which an imprudent step on his part might break up and
disorganise. When the Eoman question became more and
more practical and pressing, he Avas torn with conflicting
attractions and motives. Early memories and associations,
the first hopes and aspirations of the Movement, had bound
him heart and soul to the Church of England. His attach
ment to his University, and his love for Pusey and the old
Tractarian party, made common cause with this, and held him
back from moving in a direction opposed to the deepest feelings
he cherished ; Avhile his gi'owing intellectual difficulty in the
Anglican position, his suspicion that the Eomanisers Avould
prove right, and his sympathy with Eome and Christendom,
uru'ed him onAvards. Yet he has told us that he could not
feel sure that the EomcAvard tendency Avas not a delusion.
And if so, hoAV unpardonable to break up the party by taking

2o6 EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go chap.
a line Avlhch might prove, in the event, to have been mistaken.
In view, then, of the weight of his lightest Avord, and of the
intensely critical situation, silence and Avaiting seemed to be
his only course. He did not dare to throw his full weight into
either scale, although reluctantly, when pressed, he had perforce
to intimate which way his convictions were travelling. But
discussions intended to be tentative, and yet in which each
provisional conclusion was registered as an ex, Cathedra utter
ance, tried him. They committed him prematurely to positions
of which he was not certain, and the issues were too far-
reaching, and the tension in the public raind was too great, to
justify this.
Mr. Ward, on the other hand, had a position of compara
tive simplicity to maintain. He had no clinging love for the
Church of his birth. His love for the persons of the early
Tractarians was not a constraining force. He had one, aud
one only, burning desire, in which feeling and reason alike
concurred, — the carrying out of the principles of the great
Movement to what he considered their lawful issue. All else
was small and insignificant to him compared with this. The
English Church was to be restored to its true ideal, and that
ideal he soon came to recognise as essentially similar both in
doctrine and in discipline to that exhibited by Eome. He
had defined his own position and broken with the moderate
Tractarians. They were to his mind inconsistent, and faded
to carry out their principles. The persons he wished to satisfy
were consistent friends and consistent foes ; and for these
classes the clearest statement of principles and the most direct
recognition of objections were called for. His whole mind and
heart, then, were intent on clearing the ground and coping with
the difficulties which arose, and his trust in Mr. Newman made
constant consultation with him inevitable. He was not happy
that his solutions were correct until he had Newman's sanction,
and Newman went far enough with him, and had sufficient
reluctance to express dissent, to satisfy Ward in this respect.
When once he had, or considered he had, Newman's sanction on
one point, he continued working out further steps and the appeal
was repeated. He considered that he was helping the cause
of truth by throwing NcAvman's views and their consequences
into definite logical form, by translating them from the language

IX EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go 207
of suggestion into that of complete categorical statement. This
helped to make things clear, to make aU parties understand
each other, to show to friend and foe alike where they stood.
Here again his language in reference to his defence of Tract
90 serves as an illustration. "I have anxiously endeavoured,"
he wrote, "to make my pamphlet neither indirect, nor
satirical, nor ambiguous (charges brought against the Tract).
In order to support what Newman conscientiously believed
the true view, it was necessary either to hint or openly to state
his extremely unfavourable view of the Eeformers. From the
wish to avoid giving unnecessary offence he chose the former
method ; for those who misunderstood that, and charged him
with disingenuousness where he meant to charge the Eeformers
with it, I thought a short pamphlet, putting the charges against
the Eeformers more fully, might be serviceable." He kncAv
that he should annoy Dr. Pusey, whom he revered and loved ;
he knew that he should tend to break up the party to Avhich
he belonged ; but here, as ever, he could only say amicus Plato
sed magis arnica Veritas. So far as Newman himself was
affected, loyalty to friendship and to the truth appeared in
this case combined, for he aimed at defending him from
the accusations of his opponents.
In this state of thiugs he faded to see that after a
time his guide became embarrassed and unwUUng to pursue
the discussion, as having reached a point where he was un
prepared to talk until he had had more time to think. When,
years later, the Apologia appeared, this came on Ward as a
new light. He considered, indeed, that later differences had
accentuated the feeling there indicated — had, as it Avere, led Dr.
Newman to look at the past through glasses coloured by more
recent events; but nevertheless he was pained at discovering an
element in their Oxford relations of which he had been at the
time wholly unconscious.
There seems, as I have said, to have been something of
cross purposes in all this. Mr. NcAvman's friends were indig
nant at their leader's hand being forced, especially those Avho
saAv too plainly that the pressure brought to bear on him Avas
hastening him, witii whatever reluctance, towards the step
Avhich was to separate them from him. They accused Mr.
Ward of inconsiderateness, of supposing that logic and dis-

2o8 EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go chap.
cussion could settle all things, of propounding unreal dilemmas,
» of ignoring the innumerable considerations which must be taken
account of before a conclusion is finally accepted, and which may
modify in practice a theoretical conclusion which seems at first
sight inevitable. " No one can tell," writes the Dean of St.
Paul's, " how much this state of things affected the working of
Mr. Newman's raind in the pause of hesitation before the final
step ; how far it accelerated the ultimate view he took of his
position. No one can tell, for many other influences were
mixed up with this one. But there is no doubt that Mr.
Newman felt the annoyance and the unfairness of this per
petual questioning for the sake of Mr. Ward's theories ; and
there can be httle doubt that in effect it drove him onwards
and cut short his time of waiting."
This view of Mr. Ward's attitude was doubtless shared by
most of those to whom the Movement was before aU things
Anglican, aud on whom the fear of Newman's separation from
the Enghsh Church weighed hke a nightmare. On the other
hand, there were men of various schools of thought, friends of
Mr. Ward, whose questions in part led him to urge Newman to
greater expUcitness, who distrusted NeAvman's method as so per
sonal as to be prejudiced, so reserved and ambiguous as to give
his enemies a plausible excuse for considering him unstraight-
forward, so subtle in distinctions, and in explanations so nearly
explaining away, as to account for — if not to excuse — the term
Jesuitical used of him by men of plainer minds. He seemed
so distrustful of dialectics and discussion as to ignore dUemmas
arising from his own words which called aloud for an answer ;
so hopeless of making those whose principles differed widely
from his own understand him, and so unwilling to consider
them, as to provoke the charge of narrowness and over-great
subjectivity. Mr. Ward's reverence for Newman was too
great to aUow him to entertain such charges, but he saw
that they needed an answer, and this was an additional reason
for wishing to draw from Newman plainer and fuUer state
ments. Many openly expressed the view in question. We have
seen this already in the case of Mr. Tait and Mr. WUson in
connection with Tract 90. Dean Stanley, looking back at those
days a year before his death, gives expression in some measure
to a simUar feeling. " We must admit," he writes, " that there

IX EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go 209
was a tortuous mode of pursuing his purposes Avhich, though
consistent with absolute sincerity, may naturaUy have given
birth at the time to sorae sinister suspicions. It was owing,
no doubt, in part to the difficulty of his position, constantly
shifting under him, that Dr. Newman had recourse to the
practice of whispering, hke the slave of Midas, his secret into
the reeds, in the hope that some future traveUer might perad-
venture discover it."
Cardinal Newman has told us that Dr. Pusey was very
slow to believe whither he was going, and we see in the
Apologia traces of the same conflict between affection and
reason, in his attitude towards Pusey on the one hand, and the
" extreme '' party on the other, as between the claims of the
Enghsh and Eoman Churches on his allegiance.
In 1842 Pusey asked him point blank whether he went
entirely with Ward, and Newman's answer was as follows : —
" As to my being entirely with Ward, I do not know the limits
of my own opinions. If Ward says that this or that is a develop
ment from what I have said, I cannot say Yes or No. It is plausible,
it raay be true. Of course the fact that the Eoman 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 he forced beyond what I can fairly accept."
' On the other hand, when his University sermons came out
in 1843, at a time when Mr. Ward had been publishing,
anonymously, a series of articles in the British Critic in Avhich
his Eoman views were most openly expressed, Mr. NcAvman
appended the following note to his sermon on "Love, the
safeguard of Faith against Superstition " — the only personal
reference in the volume: —
" Some admirable articles have appeared in the late numbers of
the British Critic on the divinely appointed mode of seeking trath
Avhere persons are in doubt and difficulty [references are here given
to five different articles by Mr. Ward]. As they appear to be only
the first sketches of a deep and important theory Avhich has pos
session of the Avriter's mind, it is to be hoped that they wiU one
day appear in a raore systematic form."
The folloAving reminiscences of those days by Father
Lockhart, one of Newman's companions at Littlemore, and
now Superior of the English Eosminians, throws a very curious

EVENTS SUCCEEDING TRACT go

hght on Newman's relations with Dr. Pusey on the one hand,
and with Mr. Ward on the other : —
" When I had been a very few weeks at Littlemore," Father
Lockhart writes, "I found my doubts about the claims of the
Church of England becoming so strong that 1 told ' Newman ' that
1 did not see how I could go on. I doubted the orders, and still
more the jurisdiction of the Church of England, and could feel no
certainty of absolution. If I remember clearly I said to Newman,
' But are you sure you can give absolution % ' To which I think his
reply was, ' Why do you ask me % ask Pusey.' He came to me a
little later and said, ' I see you are in such a state that your being
here would not fulfil the end of the place. You must agree to stay
here three years, or go at once.' I said, ' I do not see how I can
promise to stay three years. Unless I am convinced that I am safe
in staying I cannot do it. And if I Avent I do not feel that I know
enough to make my submission to Eome, when so many better and
more learned men do not see their way to do so.' He said, ' Will
you go and have a talk with Ward V I assented, and I think the
next day I had a talk for three hours round and round the Parks.
In the end I felt unconA'inced and mystified. Yet one thing your
father put very strongly to me, that I knew enough of myself to
know that I ought to distrust my own judgment ; that I knew little
of religion and practised less, — ^in fact that my conscience was not
in such a state that I could have any confidence that my intellect
Avould not be warped in any judgment so momentous, involving all
manner of moral and intellectual questions, etc. He had just
brought out [some articles in the British Critic] in which ... he
lays great stress on the necessity of conscience being clear in order
to a right inteUectual judgment on religious questions. In the end
I went back to Newman and told him (as I learned afterwards to
his surprise) that I had made up my mind to stay three years before
taking any step Eomewards.
" I meant it, but I could not stay more than a year. What
brought matters to a crisis was my meeting Father Gentili at your
father's rooms with Mr. and Mrs. de Lisle. When the summer
came I went to take my mother and sister into Norfolk, and then
to make a short tour to see the places in Lincolnshire connected
with the life of St. Gilbert of Sempringham, which I was writing.
I thence went to Loughboro, where I saw Father GentiU. He saw
I was in a miserable state of perplexed conscience, feeling that
nothing bound me back frora Eome but my promise to Newman.
By his advice I made a three days' retreat, which ended in my
making my confession, being received into the Church, and three
days after entering as a postulant into Eosmini's order."

CHAPTEE X
THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT
1842-44
From the time when Newman, in 1841, abstained raore and
more from taking an active share in the Movement, a new
character began to be evident in its proceedings. His re
straining hand was removed, in great measure, from the " ex
treme " party, and it at once carae raore prominently forAvard,
and asserted raore uncoraproraisingly its Eoman tendencies.
Newman had resigned the editorship of the British Critic,
which passed into the hands of his brother-in-law ]\Ir. Thomas
Mozley. Ward and Oakeley commenced hi 1841 a series of
articles in its pages, which CA^entually, as we shall sec, brought
matters to a crisis. The more moderate Puseyite faction at
the same time — such men as Dr. Pusey liimself and Mr. Isaac
Williams — accentuated their opposition to home, and the separa
tion between the two camps became an acknowledged fact.
Very soon a distinct change became manifest in the theory
which the advanced section advocated with respect lo thefr
membership of the Anglican Church, and by the time NcAvman
had permanently retired to Littlemore at the end of 1842,
they were maintaining principles Avhicli could ncA'er secure
permanent toleration within the Anglican EstabUshment. Mr.
Ward's own account of this theory shall be giA-^en in fuU later
on. Here it is sufficient to call attention to the chief points
in which it involved a break with the original Tractarian
principles. In the first place, the question Avhether the AngUcan
Church was in any sense a branch of the Church Universal

212 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
was answered more and more doubtfully ; and it was openly
denied to have any of the external notes of a Church. Next
the protest against Eoman corruptions grew gradually more
feeble ; Eoman doctrine was more and more fully accepted,
imtil in Mr. Ward's work, Tlie Ideal of a Christian Church,
Eome was practically acknowledged as the divinely appointed
guardian and teacher of religious truth. Finally, the old
idea of working towards the reunion of Churches, and calhng
for concessions on both sides with a view to this object, dis
appeared. The Pope was maintained to be normally Primate
of Christendom, and the ultimate ahn proposed for the English
Church was not reunion with but submission to Eome.
On what ground then did the men who held this theory
justify theh remaining in the Church of England ? On the
ground (1) that Providence had placed them in it, (2) that its
formularies were so loose as to allow the holding of aU Eoman
doctrine within its pale, (3) that the sudden adoption of doc
trines ncAV to the moral nature was difficult and undesirable,
and that the English Church afforded a good position for
gradually drawing nearer to Eome, until some considerable
portion of churchmen should have so far imbibed the spirit
of Eoman CathoUcism, as to feel conscientiously impelled to
outward conformity to its communion. For an individual to
move prematurely might destroy this prospect ; and therefore
he was to be for the present content with uniting himself in
spirit to the Eoman Church, without formally joining her.
So long as conscience did not clearly call upon him to take
the further step, so long might he hope that he was not cut
off from grace by remaining where Providence had placed htm.
That Newman did not disapprove of this theory in the outset
is clear from a letter of his written in September 1843 to Mr.
Hope — afterwards Mr. Hope Scott. He speaks in it of " those
who feel they can with a safe conscience remain with us whUe they
are aUowed to testify in behalf of Catholicism and to promote its
interests; i.e. as if by such acts theywere putting our Church, or at
least a portion of it in which they are included, in the position
of catechumens. They think they may stay while they are
moving themselves and others, nay, say the whole Church,
toAvards Eome." He adds, " Is not this an intelligible ground ?
I should hke your opinion of it.'' When, however, this theory

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 213
was developed to its fuU extent, that "the whole cycle of
Eoman doctrine," as Eoman, and as "confirmed by the Pope,"
might be held consistently \rith Enghsh churchmanship, he
expressed his dissent from Mr. Ward's view. To beheve that
the spread of Cathohc doctrine must bring the Enghsh Church
nearer to Eome was one thing, and to work for this might be
laudable ; but to adopt definitely the whole of Eoman doctrine
— an essential part of which was the schismatical condition of
Anghcans — and this on the ground that it was taught by Eome,
and yet to remain an Anglican, was a further step in which
he refused to acquiesce. " You are quite right," he says in a
letter to Mr. Hope, " in saying that I do not take Ward and
Oakeley's grounds that all Eoman doctrine may be held in our
Church, and that as Eoman I have always and everywhere
resisted it."
Newman did not, however, express his disapproval until
after the appearance of the Ideal} and during the tAvo years
preceding that event — 1843 and 1844 — Mr. Ward advocated
his views in the belief that they had Newman's sanction.
These were the years of Ward's greatest actirity and influence.
The present Dean of Westminster, in his published BecoUections
of his predecessor Dean Stanley, says hi reference to this time
that Mr. Ward " succeeded Dr. Newman as the acknowledged
leader " ^ of the Movement I'arty ; and Dean Stanley himself
bears witness that he " exercised the most constant and
energetic influence on all the ramifications of the party, and
especially over the younger men," and that " by his unrivalled
powers of argument, by his transparent candour, by his un-
compromishig pursuit of the opinions he had adopted, and by
his loyal devotion to Dr. Newman himself," he Avas " the most
important element of the Oxford School at tins crisis." ^
Several features in his teaching became more pronounced
when he found himself, on the one hand, in some sense at the
head of a party, and when, on the other, NcAvman's evident
uncertainty and wish to avoid the responsibihty of interference
left Mr. Ward free to go his oAvn way and in his oavu fashion.
He never from the first professed to foUoAv in every particular
the teaching of the Tracts, and as tirae Avent on he more and more
I See Letter from Mr. A^ard to R. G. Macmullen in Chapter XIA'.
" Rcciillections of J. P. Stanley, p. 65. ' Edinburgh Revicii', April 1881.

2X4 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
refused to adopt the tone or method of a party man in matters
• outside the essence of the Anglo-Catholic theology. His pohtics
Avere to a great extent Liberal, while those of the party Avere
Tory ; he refused steadily to sacrifice his private friendships
with holders of Liberal or Evangelical opinions to the demands
of party feeling, and consequently was a welcome guest in circles
in Avhich the appearance of a Puseyite was otherwise a fare
phenomenon ; and conversely he broached theories — in High
Church circles — httle to the taste of the school which claimed
to succeed to the opinions and traditions of Archbishop Laud.
Professor Jowett tells me of the consternation he spread through
the company, when he maintained at a dinner of Puseyites
and zealous worshippers of the martyr-king, that the execution
of Charles I. was the only defensible or possible course under
the circumstances. He preserved throughout, in his advocacy
of the Cathohc opinions, the method which he had first learned
at the hands of Arnold and Wliately. Dialectics were his
constant weapons of attack, and discussion the instrument
alike of his inteUectual progress and of his influence on others.
He was slow to abandon the hope of influencing and convincing
theological opponents. He brought the points at issue back to
earher first principles which all religious men held in common,
and was ready to argue for Cathohcism as the true expression
and analysis of what was real and deep in the religion of all
parties. His exposition commenced with the first principles
of the moral law, and advanced, in completest logical form, to
Cathohcism itself. Even where he defended instinctive faith,
his defence abounded hi logic. " He is always arguing," it was
said of hhn, " against the propriety of arguing at all."
The Dean of St. Paul's speaks of Ward's habits in this
respect as follows : —
" He was not a person to hide his own views or to let others
hide theirs either. He lived in an -atmosphere of discussion with
all around him, friends or opponents, fellows and tutors in common
rooms, undergraduates after lecture and out walking. The most
amusing, the most tolerant man in Oxford, he had round him per
petually some of the cleverest and highest scholars and thinkers
who Avere to be the future Oxford ; and where he was, there was
debate, cross -questioning, pushing inferences, starting alarming
problems, beating out ideas, trying the stuff and mettle of mental
capacity . . . always rapid and impetuous, taking in the whole

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 215
dialectical chessboard at a glance, he gave no quarter ; and a man
found himself in a perilous comer before he perceived the drift of
the game ; but it was to clear his own thought, not — for he was
much too good-natured — to embarrass another. If the old scholastic
disputations had been still in use at Oxford, his triumphs would
have been signal and memorable. His success, compared Arith other
leaders of the Movement, in infiuencing life and judgment, was pre
eminently intellectual success. The stress he laid on the moral side
of questions, his own generosity, his earnestness on behalf of fair
play and good faith, elevated and purified intercourse. But he was
not generally persuasive in proportion to his powers of argument.
Abstract reasoning, in matters with which human action is con
cerned, may be too absolute to be convincing. It may not leave
sufficient margin for the play and interference of actual experience.
And Ward, in perfect confidence in his conclusions, rather liked to
leave them in a startling form, which he innocently declared to be
manifest and inevitable. And so stories of Ward's audacities and
paradoxes fiew all over Oxford, shocking and perplexing grave
heads with fear of they knew not what. Dr. Jenkyns, the Master
of Balliol, one of those curious mixtures of pompous absurdity with
genuine shrewdness which used to pass across the University stage,
stupid himself but an unfailing judge of a clever man, as a jockey
might be of a horse, liking Ward and proud of him for his clever
ness, was aghast at his monstrous language and driven half wUd
Avith it."
And whUe he employed freely in behalf of High Churcli
views the dialectical method of the Liberal school, he like
wise preserved Arnold's way of looldng at religion rather on
its practical side than its historical. It was in systems of
self-examination and self-improvement that his directly re
ligious lessons were given — with sanctions from Catholic doc
trine, but aided by those methods of reahsing religious truth,
of picturing before the mind's eye the detaUs of Gospel his
tory, which he had learned from Arnold. The interest of the
historical Church, traditional views, party Avatchwords, ritual
and ceremonial customs, never assumed in his mind, as they
did in that of some others, any position save that of iUus
trating and ministering to the central truth, Avith which
Arnold had first warmed his heart, " All for the glory of God."
God's place in creation Avas the one great fact ever recurring
ill his lessons and moulding his views of all else. Its conse
quence — the absolute nothingness and dependence of mankind
— -was a thing he constantly realised, not as a subject for an

2i6 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
effective sermon, but as a tremendous and undeniable fact.
The imphcit denial or forgetfulness of this fact which is at the
root of nearly aU offences against religion, sometimes led to
indignation, but sometimes seemed to him exquisitely funny.
None that heard him tell it can forget the infinite amusement
with which he used to give the account of a walk which he
took with one of his Oxford contemporaries, of whom the story
may perhaps be recognised as characteristic, in the course of
which Ward endeavoured to place before htm the infinite
distance of creation frora the all-powerful Creator. "When
we reahse this," he said, " we feel that our attitude in the
presence of God should be abject." His friend demurred.
" No, not abject, my dear Ward, not abject. Certainly it
should be a deferential attitude, but not abject." The con
ception of carefully-weighed deference to the infinite majesty
of a godhead which could in a moraent annihUate us ; the
attempt to save proper pride and self-respect, to preserve
moderation in statement, and nineteenth century conventional
language, in a matter which dealt Arith the infinite and the
indescribable, was to him intensely ludicrous, and his delight
and sense of its absurdity unbounded.
On the general position which he now definitely assumed
with respect to the Enghsh Church he was equally uncom
promising. It had to be radically changed. Its Articles were as
a whole Protestant. The sphit which possessed it was distinctly
un-Catholic. Owing to its careless treatment of essential sacra
mental forms it was practically certain that its orders were in
valid. To preserve external conformity to it was, as far as it
went, to oppose Catholicism- — though persons might be in soul
united to the Catholic Church, and yet not rehnquish this
conformity. StiU such a position was not externally Cathohcism,
it was High Churchism or Puseyism. A Cathohc priest at
Old Hall was put somewhat out of countenance when, in
answer to his rather sneering remark, " I suppose you call
yourself a Catholic, Mr. Ward," he received the reply, " Oh
dear no ! You are a Cathohc, I am a Puseyite." He did not
beheve himself 1;o be a priest, or to have the power of forgiving
sins. He heard confessions according to the Puseyite practice,
but would not giA^e absolution, and at the end of his confession
knelt down Arith his penitent and joined with him in a prayer

x THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 217
for forgiveness. Yet persons who became afterwards Cathohcs
said he had more the quiet manner of a Catholic priest in the
confessional than any of the other leaders. The theory that the
Enghsh Church was, as an external institution, a Uving branch
of Catholicism, he distinctly looked on, during these closing
years of the Movement, as faltering and hahsplitting and un
real, just as the contention that the Articles were really
Catholic would be. When Macmullen said to hhn one day,
" Bear in mind that you are on our principles really a priest of
God," Ward broke off the discourse, saying, " If that is the
case, the whole thing is infernal humbug."
His rejection of so much of the old Tractarian creed and
his hatred of sectarianism gave great offence to many who
clung to the early traditions of the Movement. Party
manoeuvring, and the partial suppression of individual
opinion necessary to corporate action, were out of his hne.
Any slip made by one of his own friends in controversy was
frankly recognised, and a point scored by an opponent freely
admitted. They called hhn the enfant terrible of the party.
The new identification of Anglo-Catholicism Avith a primarUy
ethical movement ; the dismissal of the old historical basis of
Laud, Andrews, Hammond, as unimportant and in great part
untrue; the transference of thcAvhole controversy from a some
what technical and aiiti(iuarian ground to the great battlefield
in which were ranged the forces of infidelity on one side, and
of Catholic asceticism on the other, Avere uncongenial and irri
tating to raen who were unaccustomed and unprepared to deal
with such starthng issues. When they Avere unable to enter
into abstract questions as to the capacity of the human mind
for grasping religious knoAvledge, they retorted on Ward that
he shirked history because he Avas ignorant of it. Ward — who
thought the ethical and phUosophical question quite important
enough on its oavu ground — Avitli characteristic exaggeration
accepted the taunt as entirely true. He Avas deplorably
ignorant, he said, of historical facts. He had been so aU his
life. Several of his contemporaries Avere the same. He
remembered, he used to say, a debate at the Union on Mary
Queen of Scots, in which he took part, and tn which each side
knew only one fact. But they made such good use of their
fact that the debate Avas most animated and exciting. Perhaps

2i8 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
such treatment of the charges against him did not help to a
"better understanding. The older members of the party do not
seem to have welcomed the growth of his influence. "For
many years," writes one of them, "my idea of Ward has
been as of a huge young cuckoo, growing bigger and bigger,
elbowing the legitimate progeny over the side of the httle
nest." The British Critic was, as I have said, the principal pub
Uc medium through which Ward and Oakeley urged theh riews
upon the Oxford party. Eeleased from the calls upon his
time which the office of Mathematical Lecturer had in-
A'olved, Mr. Ward commenced a series of very long articles in
that periodical, beginning in the October of 1841 with a re
view of Arnold's sermons, and following it up in AprU of the
next year with an article on Whately's Essays. He con
tributed in aU eight articles.^ They were very uncouth iu
form, heavy in style, onesided in treatment — abounding in
abstract argument to the exclusion of historical research or
critical scholarship. These peculiarities their author himself
was the first to recognise. But their bold and uncompromising
advocacy of the new form of Tractarianism which has just
been described, eventually brought about a storm, in the midst
of which the Movement collapsed, and its original leader
avowed his intention of leaving the Church of England.
There was no attempt in the essays at literary form. Mr.
Ward had made up his mind that graces of style were " out of
his hne." He had something to say which he thought import
ant, and he meant to say it. Let those who wished to understand
his essays and be fair to his party give the required effort to
master his arguments. These arguments he considered entirely
satisfactory. In theh exposition all he could promise was
conipleteness ; he could not, he considered, avoid dullness, and
he did not pretend to charm or persuade. He told his readers
in his first essay his own opinion that it was " wearisome,"
and referring later to the whole series of articles he remarked :
" If any one thing is clear in the whole world it is clear that
^ Mr. AVard's articles in the British Critic were as follows : — "Dr. Amold's
Sermons" (October 1841), "AVhately's Essays" (April 1842), "Heurtley's Four
Sermons" (April 1842), "Goode's Divine Rule" (July 1842), "St. Athanasius"
(October 1842), "Church Authority" (January 1843), "The Synagogue and the
Church" (July 1843), "Mill's Logic" (October 1843).

x THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 219
it was [to the task of convincing the reason rather than
touching the feehngs] that I dhected my articles tn the British
Critic. The style of writing so argumentative, methodical, and
unrhetorical; the language so harsh, dry, and repulsive, as I
have continually heard it caUed ; aU this shows that I addressed
my words to those who professed argument and analysis."
The arguments themselves were fully and plainly stated, and
the editor, Mr. Mozley, tells us that he himself felt " that theh
ternunus was outside the Church of England." " I continued
to read Ward's articles as fast as they came from the press,"
he adds, " not only from duty, but with a certain pleasurable
excitement akin to that some children have in playing on the
edge of a precipice."
Though the articles do not appear to have been artistic
either in MS. or in print, they were accounted not only
powerful but beautiful by many of his readers. Mr. Mozley
bears witness to this in one instance, and to his own surprise
that so it should be. " Strange to say," he writes, " and
certainly much to my surprise, a considerable portion of the
readers looked to Ward's article as the gem of the number."
And he tells us that Eobert Williams, referring to it, caUs it
" the most intrinsically valuable that has hitherto appeared,"
and " really surprisingly beautiful."
The editor himself gives us the reverse side of the picture.
The MS. was sent in at the last moment ; " the handAvriting
was minute and detestable ; it defied correction." It con
sisted of " bundles of irregular scraps of paper Avliich I had to
despatch to the printer crying out for copy." " As for cutting
the articles short, where was one to commence the operation
when they were already Avithout beginning or end." And
when an alteration was suggested, " I did but touch a filament
or t;wo of one of his monstrous cobwebs, and off he ran
instantly to Newman to complain of my gratuitous impertin
ence. Many years afterwards I Avas forcibly reminded of him
by a pretty group of a plump httle Cupid flying to his mother
to show a wasp sting he had just received. NeAvman Avas then
in this difficulty. He did not disagree Avith Avhat Ward had
written ; but, on the other hand, he had given neither me nor
Wanl to understand that he Avas hkely to step in between us.
In fact, he Avished to be enthely clear of the editorship.

220 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
This, however, was a thing that Ward either could not or
would not understand."
It is possible that the rather abrupt and unconventional
candour of portions of Ward's writings was one of the points
which distressed his editor. Both in the British Critic and
elsewhere this was noteworthy. If a point necessary to his
argument was, as he considered, " out of his hne," he Avould
say so in print. If he made references which seemed to point
to Aride reading on his own part, he would add a note to
explain the exact amount of the authors referred to with which
he was acquainted at first hand, or the friend or book whence
he borrowed his statements. Anything which had come in
his Avay or affected his article — from a theory of Kant to a
bad pen — might be commented on in print. If readers com
plained of the want of dignity of style which this involved, or
of its destruction of rhetorical effect, he would earnestly
explain that he had no idea of dignity of style, and that
rhetorical effect was quite out of his power. " I do not mean,"
he explained in one of his essays, " that my style is unsuited
for dry philosophical disquisition ; but where poetry or rhetoric
are caUed for, I am, alas, noAvhere."
Passages illustrative of these habits abound in his early
writings. In the Ideal, when the question of national
character in relation to national rehgion coraes into his argu-
raent, we find a comparatively brief treatment of the subject in
inverted commas, with a footnote appended to the following
effect : " The passage within inverted commas has been supphed
me by a friend who understands the subject, which I do not."
In referring to Kant, in an article in the British Critic, he
explains to his readers that his acquaintance with that
phUosopher's writings is very partial, and that the only
opinion he feels warranted in pronouncing on them as a
whole is that they are very hard reading. Elsewhere he says
that what he had read he read in French, as he didn't know
German. He quotes St. Athanasius with the comment that he
is only copying a passage he has seen quoted elsewhere. He
gives an opinion of Niebuhr in one place, and of the early
fathers in another, Arith the explanation that he is saying what
competent judges say ; and that the friend who supphed him
Avith one view is prepared, if necessary, to come forward and

THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT

prove it. He refers to Luther, and gives a long note explaining
the exact amount of that writer's works he has read, the edition
he knows, and the date of each part of his reading. And in
the essay on Mill's logic which he contributed to the British
Critic in October 1843 — an essay which attracted very Aride
attention, and to which Mill, according to Professor Bain's
testimony, attached the highest importance,^ — he appends a
footnote to the first page which concludes as foUows: " We should
add that both here and in the body of the article we much fear
that these references may be found incorrect, as the volumes to
which we have access seem in some way incorrectly bound up."
Turning to the substance of the British Critic articles we
find two different elements pervading them. There is on the
one hand a vein of abstract speculation as to the true method
of discerning religious truth. Obedience to conscience and the
spirit of reverent inquiry are advocated as the great means of
clearing the moral and intellectual eyesight in such matters ;
while these are to be supplemented by the guidance of holy
men. All really holy spirits are witnesses to the fundamental
truths of religion, and in proportion to theh opportunities of
knowledge they will likewise become more and more united
in the details of their behef Some extracts shall shortly be
given, illustrative of this line of thought in the articles under
consideration. The other element to be considered in Mr. Ward's essays
is the line he adopted with reference to the concrete chcum
stances of the Movement in those years. I have already
spoken of his general vieAV as to the Avoik before the Oxford
School. It was a view distinctly iu ad\aiice of that advocated
by Newman and Keble in the preface and notes to Froude's
Bemains. These Avriters had, as we have seen, clearly expressed
their disapproval of the line pursued by the Enghsh Ee
formers, and had thus advanced a step beyond the party of
Dr. Pusey, or of Mr. Hook and IMr. Palmer ; but the protest
against the Eoman system which had been an essential part
of early Tractarianism was to be found, though somewhat less
prominently, in the Bemains. ilr. Ward not only abandoned
the protest, but, Avith slight and eA-er -decreasing parentheses
' Cf. Dr. Bain's J. S. MiU : A Criticism, with PersmuU Recollections (Longmans),
p. 69.

222 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
disclaiming sympathy with a few practical corruptions abroad,
openly avowed his acceptance of Eoman doctrine, and his
admhation of the ethos and rehgious practices of the papal
Church. To undo the work of the Eeformation, and to restore
to the English Church her orighial Catholic character, with the
ultimate, if distant, prospect of restoration to the papal
obedience, was his declared aim, and the programrae which he
advocated for the Oxford schooL The Catholic ethical and
ascetical ideal, which the Protestant eleraents in the Eeforraation
had gone far to destroy, were to be the raain agents in this
restoration, and distinctively Eoman doctrine was not to be
preached ; but as, on the one hand, there was nothiug in the
essence or formularies of Anglicanism to prevent indiriduals
from holding it, so, on the other hand, in proportion as
Catholic spirituality was cultivated and preached, Eoman
doctrine would normally follow as its natural correlative.
If this programme differed from that of the earher phases
of the " Movement," much more did the method in which it
was advocated differ from that of the early Tracts. And it
was the peculiarity of this method which brought things to a
crisis and ultimately broke up the party. If Mr. Ward's
theory was unwelcome to Anglicans, his mode of advocating
it could not but make it raore so, as the unwelcorae elements
were those he most insisted on. The early Tracts had appealed
to English ecclesiastical patriotism. Here was a Church with
a noble history, immeraorial traditions, a beautiful hturgy, a
roll of saints in her calendar, — all this rich inheritance of
Enghsh churchmen was being set aside by the accidental riews
and ignorant bigotry of the moment. They protested against
an invasion of Protestantism as against the inroads of popery.
They refused to take their theology from Geneva as they
refused to take it from Eome.^ They said that the Enghsh
Church should be true to herself and her own past. Augusttue
had brought to England the faith of the early fathers. These
were the spiritual ancestors of English Christians. Eome had
deflected from the original tradition, though she had hkcArise
preserved, as was natural, tokens of their common parentage.
Both Churches had been in different ways untrue to themselves.
The concern of Englishmen was with their OAvn Church. Let
1 See Tract 38.

x THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 223
them study the past records of her history and its existing
witness in her hturgy, and restore to nineteenth century
Anglicanism the spirit which the hves of Bede, Cuthbert,
Anselm, on the one hand, and the Church of England Prayer-
book on the other, breathe in every page. Whatever the
precise view taken of the Eeformation by the different Avriters
of the Tracts, and the precise period at which the EngUsh
Church wag supposed first to have been untrue to herself, it is
evident throughout that the appeal is of the kind here indicated
— an appeal to esprit de corps among English Churchmen, to
their pride in the Church's liturgy, in its institutions, in its
history, in its monuraents throughout the land. And in this
spirit they are urged to protest against measures that would
tamper with or destroy a heritage so sacred, — against the
deformation of the Prayer-book by parliamentary committees,
against the infringement of the spiritual parentage of its Epis
copate by the suppression of Sees, against such an abohtion
of Catholicism as involved the obliteration of memorials of a
great history.
Mr. Ward's tone was the very reverse of this. Whilst
in theory he was bent on restoring the AngUcan Church
to what she had been before the Eeformation, he preached
practically a doctrine of humiliation before a foreign power.
He dwelt throughout — partly perhaps frora his love of
looking at the furthest consequences of his principles, and
viewing his theory as a whole, partly frora an alraost un
conscious taste for what seemed startling and paradoxical, — on
all those results and aspects of his view avIucIi Avere most
irritating to English churchmen. He defended his tone on the
ground that perfect frankness and straightforwardness were
imperative, in a party which had been accused of preaching
popery in secret and of being generally disingenuous. More
over, he did no doubt thinlc that all AngUcan explanations of
the Movement did veU or make Uttle of Avhat was in his view
essential. The spirit of loyal submission to Papal authority,
and of readiness to accept the doctrines taught by the Eoman
see, — these Avere not minor points, but integral parts of the
CathoUc position as he viewed it. To Avin converts by con
cealing this seemed to him unfair. He did not press for
instant couA'ersions to his own extreme vicAvs, but he thought

224 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
it only fah to let people know fuUy the doctrinal position to
which he hoped ultimately to bring them. And so he con
tinuaUy called attention to all the " Eoman " elements in his
programme. On the other hand, he abstained from insisting on what
was persuasive — on those aspects which even his own
theory presented, which might appeal to an Englishman's
amour propre. It is not hard to imagine the consternation
of "churchmen," as they looked through the pages of their
British Critic. Ward's articles, while appearing in the professed
organ of " Church principles,'' were throughout unalloyed
endeavours to enforce the claims of Eome. Instead of exalt
ing the English Church, and deploring only an accidental and
temporary spirit which had recently got hold of her, — a
spirit foreign to her true nature, — he dwelt simply on the
" degraded condition " of " our prostrate Church," while he
expended his enthusiasm on the existing Church of Eome. If
he praised the English Prayer-book he explained that its merits
were due to its being in the main a selection from the Eoman
breviary. Far from dwelling on the links which still bound
the Anglican Church to a glorious past history, on her
potential unity with the Church of Augustine, he declares
himself " wholly unable to see in her any one of the external
notes of being a Church at all during any part of the last three
hundred years." The habits and institutions of Anglicanism
were radically wrong, and must be reformed on foreign models.
The free and easy ways of the Eoman peasant in his Church
are described with envious admiration ; the espionage advocated
in Italian colleges is exalted, to the depreciation of the freer
system of our own public schools. Enghsh ways and ideas are
viewed as narrow, and the English Church not as an institution
of glorious character, recently obscured in part, but as a set of
persons who are enmeshed in a corrupt system, which they
ought to give up and change for a fundamentally different
system. Scarcely a point was allowed for distinctively
Enghsh feeling to cling to ; Italian devotions and the most
technical phraseology of the Eoman schools concerning the
Blessed Virgin and the Saints were brought into prominence.
Matters were summed up in the Ideal by a sketch of the
glorious vision in the future, on which Mr. Ward's imagination

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT iil
loved to dwell, of the Enghsh Church " repenting in sorrow and
bitterness of heart her great sin " of the sixteenth century, and
" suing humbly at the feet of Eome for pardon and restoration.'
Preserving, then, all the logic of Arishing for a restoration
of the English Church to the Church of Cathohc ages, but all
the rhetoric of desiring that English pride should be humbled,
and the Anglican Establishment brought to its knees before a
foreign power, he adopted a position which had in it no possible
elements of success among the Anglicans of that time as a
body, though it gave him a logical defence for refraining from
a change of communion. It is true that he disclaimed aU idea
of sudden and direct Eomanising of the Enghsh Church in
details, but the constant presentment of Anghcanism as radi
cally heretical in doctrine and degraded in moral conchtion,
and of Eoman saints and Eoman religion as exalted objects
to be worshipped at a distance, and only not to be too hterally
iraitated because EngUsh churchmen were whoUy unfit to aim
at heights so far above them, was practically the same tlhng.
It was equally an attitude of humiliation before a foreign
power. The High churchmen of that day, Avith theh ante
cedents and temper, brought up upon Anglican tradition, and
identified as a party with pride in the history of the National
Church, could not eiulnre such an attitude with equanimity,
much less acquiesce in it. As loug as the doctrine uf
Eoman corruption on the one hand, and the Catholic ele
ments in Anglicanism on the other, had been central objects
held up by the Movement, there might seem to be a prospect
of making a considerable party converts to a vieAV which
promised some ultimate hope of reunion Avith a reformed
Eoman Church. But when both of these elements Avere
reduced to a minimum, though the logic of the position might
be defended, and though a section of men might for a time
remain in it — as a man may stand on one leg to sIioav that it
is possible — the natural forces of human cliaracter Avere against
its general or permanent adoption. To the mass of Anghcans
it Avas the rejection of their most clierished principles, whUe in
those who defended and advocated it it involved a strained
and ccunplicated attitude tbAvards both Churches — of Eome
and England — wliich it Avas quite hnpossible to sustain. It
Avns really a challenge to the English authorities : " On what
Q

226 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
principle can you condemn us ? " and was a practical boast of
the impotence and absence of logic in the existing Anglican
formularies, which could not exclude from the Enghsh Church
what was so uncongenial to its whole sphit.
In iUustrating the account just given of the Essays in the
British Critic, I shall not attempt a full analysis of each
Essay, but shall rather bring together passages typical of the
lines of thought to be found in all.
The basis of all of them is the theory — to which Cardinal
Newman referred in his University sermons — of the true
method of progress in rehgious knowledge by conscientious
action in the sphit of belief upon such religious principles as
are placed before the individual. I have already referred to
Ward's views on this subject hi tracing the process of his conver
sion to Newmanism. His theory, however, increased in definite
ness in 1842 and 1843, and some selections must here be
given showing the form it assumed at this time. It will be
seen that it approached closely to, but did not quite reach,
that form of statement by which in the Ideal he justified his
acceptance of the teaching of the Eoman Church.
In the article on Whately's Essays, published in April 1842,
Ward writes as foUows : —
" Let us consider the case of a person born under a false system
of religion, yet throvring himself heartily into it, carefully and
scrupulously foUowing his conscience, grasping and realising what
ever is presented to him as moral truth. Is it not plain that since
all religions have remaining in them from Divine tradition words
and symbols which with more or less fitness really stand for deep
and awful truths — is it not plain that such a person as we have
described will go on more and more to apprehend and make part
of himself these great realities, while that which is false and per
nicious Avill, even without his knowledge, crumble away under his
grasp from its own rottenness ? — ^will he not have in his own con
scientiousness a touchstone of continually increasing accuracy, where-
Avith unconsciously the good and evil of his creed will be separated
off, and that creed will, to him at least, have been a real messenger
of God? It is not, then, that he will in the natural course of
things doubt its truth ; on the contrary, he will believe it to be far
holier and more sacred than it really is, and will be ever urging on
his fellow religionists the importance and holiness of its maxims, if
they would only act up to them. In the meantime, while he fully
enjoys the approval of a good conscience, assuring him that his

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 227
faith is right before God, on the other hand he wiU have pent up
within him, with ever-increasing number and strength, aspirations
after some unknown good, whose realisation seems whoUy beyond
the power of the system within which he is imprisoned, and, more
miserable stUl, will feel his utter inability of acting with any steadi
ness and consistency even up to the more ordinary rules whose
Divine origin he loves to recognise. And now, supposing Christian
missionaries to appear and put before him a more Divine and true
revelation, will he not see here the solution of his difficulties, the
satisfaction of longings, the fulfilment of desires wliich have so long
oppressed him ? Will not that character which the finger of God
has been tracing within him cling and respond to that which is
exhibited externally, and will he not by almost a spontaneous
movement feel himself drawn into the vortex of this ncAv attraction ?
It may be so ; how far it is so will depend on three things : 1, the
degree of r^al and intrinsic superiority in the system which they
offer ; 2, the clearness with which this is exhibited and brought to
his apprehension ; 3, the extent of the strictness and conscientious
ness of his past life. As either of these are wanting, cases will
arise in which only by degrees and after much deliberation a change
is made, or in which persons even conscientious after a manner Avill
recognise no call from God to abandon the position in Avhich He
has placed them."
Ill the Essay on Mr. Goode's book, Tlu Divine Bute of
Faith — written later on in the same year — he pursues the
same line of thought. Mr. Goode and others had denied the
possibility of a spirit of belief, had even said that the expression
was unmeaning and self- contradictory. On this Mr. Ward
writes thus : —
"Advice is often given to young men to pursue a certain line
of conduct in order to the cultivation of a sphit of inquiry, why
then is it unmeaning (even were it wrong) to recommend an opposite
line in order to the cultivation of a spirit of belief ? Or when we
recommend a charitable construction of our neighbour's actions
Avhen Ave enforce the duty of believing him innocent tiU proved
guilty, are we enforcing a contradiction in terms ? Is it impossible
to believe his innocence without full proof of it 1 "
In the first instance the inquirer Avill, he holds, from
natural diffidence in his own powers of detaUed criticism, rather
look for some system, organised by those whom he can rever
ence, than pick and choose doctrines piecemeal for himself
He will look for " a standard above him, for a law which
shall challenge his allegiance, a truth Avhicli shall embrace and

228 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
surround him and so not offer itself externally to his vieAv;"
but faUing to find this, and compelled to make his iiKpiirj' to
some extent indiridual, he avUI at least preserA'e the sphit
rather of an intellectual learner, Avho withholds belief only
Avhen manifestly compelled to do so, than of the critic who
looks in the first place for flaAvs in each system, and beheA'es
only what he cannot help beheving.
" And yet in how different a spirit Avill his search be carried on
from that eclectic method, which is to religion in general what
Protestantism is to Christianity in particular. For let us compare
in imagination the process adopted by the disciples of these two
respective systems. The one makes the reason the sole arbiter
to which all the remaining powers of the mind must be content to
minister, the other makes conscience such. The one regards his
fellow-men as witnesses to be called into court and questioned at
his OAvn bidding, the other thinks of them as his teachers, and (in
some sense) his superiors ; as commissioned by God, each after his
measure, to build him up in the entire truth. The one seeks not,
dreams not of higher object than the satisfactory classification of
obrious and external phenomena ; the other earnestly presses for
ward, if it may be given him to make some approaches to the view
of that objective truth, whose existence the voice of conscience has
witnessed to him with ever-increasing certainty ;— that truth which
shall be the adequate expression, and, as such, the harmonious
interpretation, of the dimly perceived and apparently conflicting
instincts which throng within him. The eclectic, in fine, making
himself his one centre, test, and standard of religion, summons
before him as if for judgment the various rival creeds ; as though
in moral, like mathematical, truth it were possible for mortal man
to take possession of some vantage-ground, external to the object
of his inquiries. True and startling type indeed of him " Avho as
God sitteth in the temple of God, showing himself that he is God,"
for he claims to accomplish that which God and the host of heaven
only can accomplish — to see raoral truth from without, to grasp it
as one system, to harmonise it into one intelligible whole, to view
it, as some fine natural object might be viewed from a distance, in
its just proportions, true colouring, and adequate expression. But
the more humble inquirer looks out in all directions for the leading
hand of God. His first care is to aim day by day at a deeper
realisation, and by necessary consequence a fuller conviction of
those truths which he has apprehended. Beyond the range of
these, where his conscience grows into some new development, there
he recognises a call from above to observe with reverent watchful
ness whatever system of doctrines he sees to be coexistent with
holiness of life, if from some quarter or other he may find that

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 229
which shall supply his need, and thus add to his existing stock of
moral knowledge. But seeking the latter as he does, from no merely
inteUectual and speculative curiosity, but rather from the simple
desire of practical edification for himself and others, it is no dis
appointment to find what we should think that common sense must
have made clear to every one — that what is caUed an unprejudiced
judgment on such subjects is necessarily an unreal one, and that
an impartial and comprehensive view of all existing systems can
only be obtained by him who is external to all, whose impartiality
will therefore but result from inexperience of all moral facts what
ever, and whose comprehensiveness of all will be synonymous with
real knowledge of none."
Again, he held that the principle of free and critical in
quiry, while professing to be in a special sense intellectual,
did not really meet the requirements of the acknowledged laws
of induction. The very apprehension — in any real or full
sense — of moral truth must depend upon a previous temper of
mind opposed to the principle in (piestion. Thus phenomena
which are in a special way connected with rehgious truth are
in reality incapable of ol)seivation in such circumstances, and
an induction is made, consequently, on a levicAV of only a
portion of the facts observable : —
" Surely this free inquiry is at last a very shallow principle, as
shallow intellectually as it is odious ethically. The very appearance
of moral truths, as all may know Avho have had a little moral experi
ence, is as different to those who have acted upon them and those
who have not, as we see in fixiry tales in the case of sorae traveller
who arrives at an object rough, hideous, and misshapen on the
outside, but when by some talisman he obtains admission, he ranges
at large amidst stately corridors and lofty apartments ; he views
with admiration, on all sides of him, harmonious proportions, costly
adornments, rare and invaluable treasures. To express ourselves,
then, syllogistically : — On things which are not in some fair measure
apprehended (except upon testimony), no judgment can be passed ;
moral truths are in no measure whatever apprehended unless prac
tised ; cannot be practised unless unhesitatingly believed ; unhesi
tating belief, then, on insufficient evidence is absolutely the only
course left for one who may desire sufficient."
And if it seem.s that this theory makes rehgious behef too
personal and destroys aU common measure of minds, this is
merely to allow that it partakes in a great measure of the
nature of all those experiences Avhich belong to our moral
and spiritual nature : —

230 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
" All moral phenomena are strange and inexplicable ; why is
raoral conviction to be the one exception % Who can give any
account of those high and transporting eraotions which the mere
presence of a loved object excites ? or of the absolutely wonderful
effects produced on the mind by natural scenery, music, architecture,
religious ceremonial, and the like ? When the person who has the
tastes in question is able to explain to one who has not, the mere
nature of the feelings, not to speak of the connection betAveen them
and their exciting cause, then, and not till then, will be the fit time
to wonder that grounds which appear trifiing and nugatory to the
gross and carnal-minded shall carry with them to the religious such
deep and full conviction."
But he further considers that the objections to the sub
jective nature of his theory have their real origin, in part, in a
deficient appreciation on the part of his critics of the subjective
character of nearly all deep beliefs, so far as their ultimate basis
is concerned. Their true grounds are latent, and in great part
subjectiA'^e. Either must there be latent and subjectiA'e
grounds for religious behef, or there are no sufficient grounds.
Mr. Goode, in disparaging such grounds, unconsciously advo
cates a philosophy of religious scepticism. The grounds alleged
in theological controversy are truly not subjective, but they
are not really, if the mind is candidly and accurately examined,
supports on which the weight of belief is able to rest. And in
pointing this out, Mr. Ward refers to a fact which has in our
day a very practical bearing, that the unfinished and popular
analysis of the justification of the public executioner's work, or
of the soldier's profession, can be made readily to defend such
awful crimes as the French Eevolution witnessed. The truth
being that the analysis was really but an imperfect and inaccu
rate explanation of the moral judgment which justifies the one
class of acts and condemns the other with horror.
"In real truth Mr. Goode knows not what he is doing. So
little is he accustomed, as it seems, to contemplate steadily his own
ideas and carry them to their consistent conclusions, that he has not
the faintest conception of the effects which would result from the
principles he professes in the minds of those who do so. The great
mass of men at all times greatly misconceive the real sources of
their convictions ; they have been taught that certain arguments
prove certain conclusions, and have the whole logical process as if
stereotyped en masse within their mind ; the fact being, that were it
not for really influential but latent causes, the grounds they profess

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 231
are altogether insufficient for the weight they rest upon them. And
thus, when some great excitement or sudden crisis breaks the chain
of habit, men carry forward theh recognised premises and modes of
reasoning into consequences little thought of by those who allowed
them to acquiesce in such processes as legitimate. Who, for
instance, has read the accounts of the first French Eevolution and
not been startled by the similarity of grounds on which the
massacres of September or the executions by the guUlotine were
justified, and those which are the acknowledged defence of the laws
of war or the punishment of death for high treason ? How plausibly,
or rather how traly, have the argumentative grounds of both been
represented as identical ? It is not — far from it, of course — that the
real principles of these respective procedures are the same ; but that
the defence comraonly stated, and accepted as sufficient, is not the real
principle. And so it is that what are called orthodox Protestants,
who, on the points on which they are orthodox, have many of them
far higher and more influential reasons for belief . . . have learnt
to imagine that certain definite texts of Scripture to which they
appeal are tho real support of their faith. As well might we hope
to support Mount Atlas on the point of a needle."
That he hiraself had found the spirit of free inquiry
sceptical in tendency we have already seen in his oAvn refer
ences to his earlier history. As Kant balanced the sceptical
tendency of his Critique of pure reason by the Critique of
practical reason, so too Mr. Ward found that some antidote
was needed to the perplexity in which speculati(3n on the
visible world involved him. That antidote — which he found
in the deeper realisation of man's moral nature and its hnport
— converted the perplexities of Avliich I speak, which might
otherwise have seriously threatened his entire belief in a Euhng
Providence, into difficulties only, not perhaps adnhttmg of
solution, but still not sufficient to create serious doubt. But
tliat the difficulties were to him very real and very virid is
evident from the foUoAving passage among others, although it
is couched, naturally, in the form of an objection : —
"AU things, then, as is indeed generally acknowledged, all
things within us and around us afford certain eridence of the exist
ence and attributes of God. But this leads us to another considera
tion of considerable importance; for let any one of our readers
suppose himself brought into contact with some unbeliever, who
should refuse to act upon this doctrine until it were proved to his
satisfaction. ' I am told,' he might say, ' Avherever I go, that the
phenomena of the moral and of the natural world prove this ; I act

232 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
like a reasonable being, I examine the evidence alleged, and do not
find it conclusive. First of all there is the plain and raost startUng
fact that eril exists (exists indeed to an incalculably greater extent,
as far as we can see, than good) ; now, to speak of an all-powerful
and all-merciful God co-existing with evil, is to my raind a contra
diction in terms. Again, where can you even profess to see marks
of infinite power, etc., that of which we have cognisance is of course
finite ; nay, in many particulars, I cannot avoid a suspicion that in
all you say on the subject, your words far outrun your ideas;
examine yourself carefully, have you really any distinct notion in
your mind answering to the words " omnipresent," " having existed
from everlasting," and the rest ? Surely you are bewildered in a
cloud of metaphysical subtleties, and persecute your neighbours for
a logical chimera. How am 1 the less a good member of society,
because I cannot give my assent to a mere assemblage of Avords
which those even Avho use them cannot explain ? ' Certainly, on the
principle of free inquiry, the victory will be in no way doubtful ;
it will be overpoweringly and triumphantly on the side of the
sceptic ; and yet is there any one truth on which raore harraonious
and deeply-felt proof is brought from everj' quarter to the religious
mind than this of which we speak ? "
In later years he used to state his views of the subject in
a characteristically paradoxical form. " When I consider," he
said, " the existence of evil, the creation of rational beings with
foreknowledge of their eternal condemnation, the existence at
all of eternal punishment, the apparent unfahness in many
cases of moral probation, and the rest, it seems to me that it
is almost a matter of demonstration that there is no God ; but
then it is a matter of absolute demonstration that there is a
God." Mr. Goode himself, the author of the book under review, is
dismissed, at the end of the article, with a very uncompro
mising condemnation : —
" If we have extended our reraarks beyond the usual liraits, it
has certainly been from no respect whatever for the work before
us, for anything more utterly worthless, considered as a controver
sial effort, it has never been our lot to fall in with. In common
fairness, indeed, to their powers of discrimination, we must take for
granted that those persons in high station who seem to have praised
and admired the work have done so without reading it ; they are
perhaps on other grounds hostile to the Oxford movement, hut
have found difficulty in dealing Arith the historical argument, and
accordingly to have the countenance of one writer at least who

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 233
shows knowledge of the Fathers in that hostUity is a reUef to them.
But any one who has looked at aU carefuUy into this book Arill
meet with no ordiUary trial to his patience ; he avUI find conclusions
at which English or foreign theologians in past ages have arrived by
means of accurate investigation, labour, and thought, contemptuously
set aside by a writer who has displayed no one qualification for the
task into which he has thrust himself beyond that dull barren
meraory of words which is ever found worse than useless to him,
who has neither genius to inspire, sense to direct, nor self-distrust
to restrain him."
Passing now from the general theory of rehgious inquiry
to Mr. Ward's treatment of the burning questions of the time
in their concrete form, Ave find that the writer faces very
frankly the disturbing tendency of his language Avith respect
to the Eoman Church. He presses home, in season and out
of season, all the consequences of the High Church conception
of the Church Universal ; and he refuses to abandon his insist
ence on the potential unity of an ideal Enghsh Church Avith-
Eome for the sake of greater actual unity among Churchmen
in England. Doubtless such a sacrifice Avould have helped the
cause he was trying to further. It Avould have veiled the
unpopular consequences of the Catholicising movement, and
Avould have made it more generally attractive. But it would
have involved a reticence as to the full consequences of the
theory advocated — a sacrifice of logical eonqdeteness and a
tacit acquiescence in a distinctly illogii-il and imperfect theory
which would to him haA'e been intolerable. "\\''e see from his
own letters hoAV much he and Oakeley felt the disapproval of Dr.
Pusey in this connection ; iie\ertlieless the utmost concession
he offered to make to the remonstrances of the moderate school
was, to abstain from ultra-Eoman statements on condition that
they in turn would abstain from criticising the Eoman Church.
He writes as foUoAvs : —
"It is sometiraes urged, and in quarters justly claiming our
deep honour and respect, that those Avho feel the real unity in
essentials existing among ' High Churchmen ' in England, do ill in
troubling such unity by making various statements about other
Churches, which cannot but give offence. But we answer that it is
not only among English ' High Churchmen,' but foreign Cathohcs
also, that we recognise such essential unity, and on what single
principle of Scripture or tradition can the position be maintained,
to meet the objectors on their oavu ground, that unity of a

234 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
National Church is a legitiraate object of ultimate endeavour?
Both Scripture and antiquity are claraorous and earnest indeed in
favour of the unity of the Church; but is the English Establishraent
the Church ? and of all points of agreement, for men to fix upon
this as desirable, that no expression shall ever be used by members
of the English Church towards the decided majority of Cathohc
Christendom (for such no English ' High Churchman ' can deny the
Eoman Church to be) except expressions of enmity and alienation !
Here is indeed a principle of ' Church union ' ! What would St.
Augustine have thought of it ? If there is to be an armistice let it
be on both sides. If various highly respected persons will agree
never to censure Eome, it is plain that they will at least be doing
their part in removing one reason which exists for pointed and
prominent descants in her praise. And now to take the question
on another ground ; if our present low state of morals and religion
be closely connected Avith the State's tyranny over the Church, and
if that tyranny (not to mention our doctrinal corruptions) is mainly
encouraged by our isolation from the rest of Christendom, it is not
a small responsibility which any one incurs, who uses harsh language
at all against foreign Churches : if he is sure of his ground, it may
of course be his duty to do so ; but he must not forget that if it
be not a plain duty, it is a very plain and A'ery grievous sin."
The logical ground on which he reconciles his admiring
references to Eome — their frequency and prominence — with
the aims of the Movement, is most clearly expressed in the
following passage, written in 1843 : —
" And it may be worth while in the outset to remind our readers
that we are defending a class of doctrines which on the whole have
the distinct sanction both of our Church's formularies and of our
'standard divines,' and yet are wholly alien to the very funda
mental principles of our present practical system. The very word
' sacerdos,' which Mr. Bernard and Archbishop Whately, whom he
quotes, regard as the symbol and spring of anti-Christian corruption,
is sanctioned in the Latin version of our Articles, which all the
world knows to be of equal authority with the English. The habit
of confession to a priest is clearly enforced and recommended in
our Prayer-book ; and as to ceremonial, all the ornaments used in
the second year of Edward the Sixth's reign are absolutely enjoined
by a rubric. So much for the Church's sacerdotal office ; for her
regal, we have fast days and festivals appointed by her authority.
For her prophetical, the Athanasian Creed speaks of something,
which it calls ' the Catholic faith,' as so authoritative, that its denial
incurs an anathema ; a sanction with which our Church has not
invested the very fundamental basis of a ' Scriptural religion,' not
even such doctrines as the canonicity and inspiration of Scripture

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 235
itself, essential and Catholic though these doctrines be. And in
their general view of the Church's office our ' great dirines,' it is
well known, have displayed the same spirit. As to ceremonial
religion, in particular, who can possibly go beyond Archbishop Laud
in his attachment to it ? and as to the Eucharistic Sacrifice, let any
one impartially perase No. 81 of the Tracts f err the Times. On the
other hand, in our existing practice (though it is hardly worth while
to set about illustrating what is so very plain) unlimited private
judgment on the text of Scripture is openly claimed, and vrithout
rebuke, by our people. Again, we have in Ireland, e.g. abandoned
the very word ' priest ' to the Eoman Catholics ; an ordinary layman
would be hardly raore astonished at being told that his clergyman
was in communion with the Pope, than that in the Eucharist the
said clergyman offered a 'sacrifice' (Tract 81, p. 256), 'a propi
tiatory oblation' (Johnson, p. .314), 'a complete sacrifice' (Brett,
p. 395) for the people; and certainly anything more utterly irre
concilable with the whole idea of the relative sacredness of holy
things and places, or of a symbolised and sacramental religion, than
the popular mode of behaving in churches or the ordinary form of
Sunday service, it is difficult for the most active imagination to
conceive. "Now, this whole view, thus distinctly recognised by our
Church in theory, thus wholly abandoned in practice, has been
preserved abroad in practice as well as in theory. We are abso
lutely driven, then, Avere we ever so averse, to consider Eome in its
degree our model ; for we are met in limine by objections derived
from the witnessed effect of these doctrines in Eoman Catholic
countries. " The English theoretical system agrees Avith Eome in these
matters ; the English practical systera diff"ers from her ; in entering
a protest, then, against our practical system in defence of our theo
retical, we have necessarily the appearance of appealing to Eome
against England."
Under cover of this general defence we find a good deal
which must have been surprising to English Churchmen. For
example, the reader is remhided incidentally {On Atlianasius,
p. 397) that the "exemption by special gift from venial sin is
behcA'ed by most Cathohcs to be a priA-ilege appertaining to
the Blessed Vhgiii ; " and he holds out as a threat to those
who are infected by Wliately's vague ideas as to the DiA'inity
of Christ, that they will by logical consequence have to " aban
don this pious behef and the religious devotion to the 0€oroKo<i
connected Avith it." Again, the Pope is spoken of as the

236 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
" earthly representative of (the Church's) Divine Head."
Transubstantiation is thus referred to : " The idea that to a
Christian believing all the astonishing mysteries which are
contained in the doctrine of the Incarnation the further belief
in the real presence, even to the extent of the Tridentine
definition, is a serious additional tax on his credulity, is not
tenable for one moment."
Eeferring a httle later to St. Athanasius's bold and thorough
treatment of aU the minute technique of theology involved in
the Arian controversy — to the fearlessness with which he
presses his argument, concerned though it is with what may
appear almost fanciful and unreal in the subtlety of its distinc
tions, he foretells that " alarm and distress " wiU be a chief
effect of such studies on many English Churchmen of the
present day. " The truth is," he writes, " that we have been
so long accustomed to a vague, shadowy, indefinite creed — to a
creed which we dare not contemplate steadily lest it fade from
our sight in the contemplation — which Ave dare not approach
closely lest it melt away as it were from our very breath —
that we cannot be brought into the presence of a real orthodox
Catholic, ' knowing what he beheves ' and saying it, without
feeling ourselves in a strangely uncomfortable position : we have
been so long accustomed to theological gloom and twihght that
the first intrusion of the light of day pains and distresses us.
The pain and distress, then, must with such persons come first ;
but the sun brings with it real light and warmth notwith
standing ; and they too will in time learn and appropriate
theh share in its happy influences ; they too will in time exult
that after the long night the day has begun to dawn on them ;
that they have been rescued from the oppressive, arrogant, and
insulting dominion of Protestant superstition, and brought safely
into the fulness and freshness of Gospel truth."
Elsewhere he speaks of the Eoman Church as " Our mother
in the faith . . . she to whom we should naturally turn for
guidance," and laments that she "is regarded even by very
many Catholic minds among us rather with distrust and aver
sion than with that feehng of regard and affection (we should
rather say deep gratitude and veneration) which is her due."
" This feehng," he adds, " whatever its grounds and whatever
its merits, seems so deeply ingrained in the national mind that

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 237
it would be over sanguine to expect any very speedy rcA'olu-
tion of sentiment."
In spite, however, of such open imphcations of the trust
he reposes in the teaching of authorised Eoman theology, he
nowhere in these essays avows his acceptance of the Avhole
defined doctrine of Eome — though it is certain that he did in
practice accept it ; and (what is more important) the concep
tion which appears for the first time in the Ideal of looking
upon Eome as an infallible guide without joining her com
raunion — a view from which, as we have said, NeAvman dis
sociated himself — does not appear earlier, and, as we shall
shortly see, does not seem to have been definitely adopted at
an earher date. Eoman doctrine was held substantiaUy as the
legitiraate outcorae of primitive teaching, witnessed in the
creed of the Church Universal, of which the English Church
was originally a part. So far as more direct and precise
guidance was looked for, it seems to have been sought from
Mr. Newman. Commenting on Dr. Jelf s assertion in one of
his sermons that standard divines (as Bull or Laud) Avho are
dead are preferable guides to the living (as NeAvman or Pusey),
he writes as follows : —
" It was a living guide which God intended for the Christian
Church, and which we English have lost for our sins and the sins of
our fathers ; to follow, then, living authority is far more analogous
to the Christian scheme as our Lord founded it. Two reasons may
be hinted especiaUy, though there are many others which Ave have
not space to enlarge on, for the strong preference Avhich, we are
convinced, is due to the guidance of living indiriduals over that of
printed documents. The one, that the very principal difficulties
through which earnest and practical men are anxious to see their
Avay will always be peculiar to their OAvn time : and to resort for
their solution to writers living in the period of Charles the First is
like consulting St. Chrysostom on a subject of political economy.
The other is that, partly for this very reason, partly for others, the
credentials of living and breathing men are far more open to our
inspection ; Ave have far better means of attaining a deep and inti
mate conviction that Ave may safely to so great an extent trust the
awful affair of our eternal salvation to their hands."
The articles in the British Critic culminated iu the pubh
cation of a strong hostile criticism by Mr. Palmer, of Worcester,
und in the abrupt tenniuation of the existence of the EcAdeAv

238 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
in deference to the strong disapproval its Eoman tone aroused
, among the anti-Eoman High Churchmen. The number for
October 1843 was the last, and its place was taken by the
Christian Bemembrancer, which was conducted by the more
moderate party.
Before going more fully into these events, howcA^er, a few
words must be said as to Mr. Ward's relations at this time
to the Anghcan Ecclesiastical Authorities on the one hand,
and to the English Eoman Cathohcs on the other. Both he
and Oakeley had agreed, as we have seen, not to teach dis
tinctively Eoman doctrine. By no stretch of interpretation
could the Enghsh Church be said to teach it ; and they, as
teaching on behaU of that Church, might not exceed their
instructions, although the looseness of the Anglican Formularies,
and the early history of the Articles, were such as to enable
them to hold Eoman Catholic doctrine as a matter of private
opinion. Their sermons consequently — both at Oxford and at
Margaret Street, London — were mainly on the duties of the
Christian life. However, in the matter of the Catholic ascetic
ideal of the true character of the Christian life, they held
themselves justified in insisting on those doctrines and prac
tices — the observance of Saints' days, fast days, Ember days,
and the like — which the AngUcan Prayer-book distinctly
recognises and teaches, though in practice they had become a
dead letter.
There was enough in this to hritate the captious Protestant
ism of an average English Churchman, and ere long Bishop
Blomfield was informed of what was going on. One of the ser
mons I refer to (though not the one of which that Bishop took
cognisance, but one preached by Mr. Ward in Oxford in 1843)
is before me now. The text is from Joel it 1 2, " Turn ye
even to me, saith the Lord, Arith all your heart, and with fast
ing, and Arith weeping, and with mourning." The chief part
of the discourse bears the character of a moral exhortation
on the nature of true repentance and the spirit of penance.
But the " cloven-foot " of the Oxford school appears here and
there. " I have followed the orders of the Prayer-book," he
says, " in declaring after the Nicene Creed what holy days or
fasting days are in the week following to be observed. But I
cannot shut my eyes to the fact that as things are now in this

-x THK ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 239
country, it is too hkely that the greatest part of those now
present will not rightly understand the very meaning of the
declaration ; and that hardly frora any fault of their own, rather
from the fault of us, the clergy, who have of late so much
neglected the plain orders of our own Prayer-book." An
explanation follows of Ember days and holy days ; an exhorta
tion to go to Littlemore or Iffley on St. Matthew's Day — as
the Churches are open in both places on that day, concluding
with the exclamation, " Who can tell the degree of blessing lost
to us in this land by neglecting, as we alone of Christian
Churches do neglect, these holy days ? "
At Margaret Street, on the occasion I have referred to, Mr.
Ward preached on the evangehcal counsel of poverty, and Bishop
Blomfield sent for him to give an account of himseh. The
story which is told of the interview is that the Bishop charged
him with having preached in favour of " monkish " practices
which the Anglican Church condemned. Charity and liberality
were most commendable, he said, but to preach the exceUence
of giving up everything was popish and fanatical. Did not
the Eeformation condemn it in its abolition of monkery ?
" Where," he asked, " is your sanction as an English clergj'man
and not a popish priest for preaching such doctrines ? \\'liere
do you find such practices recommended in our Church, or," he
added in an unguarded moment, " in Scripture ? " Mr. Ward
replied, " One thing is wanting to thee : go sell Avhatsoever
thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure
in heaven ; and come, follow me." He escaped, hoAvever, Avitli
a reprimand, and Margaret Street Avas alloAved to proceed in
its un-Protestant course for a year or tAvo more. Its end came,
— as a centre of High Church devotion, — soon after Ward's
condemnation by the Oxford authorities hi 1845, and Oakeley's
avowal of participation in the censured Aiews. But of this I
shall have to speak later.
In April 1843 Oakeley published an oiticle iu the British
Critic on " Auricular- Confession." Father Whitty, afterwards
Cardinal Wiseman's vicar-general, and stUl later on a Jesuit
Father, who held for a year the office of ProAincial of the
(h'der iu England, thinking that Newman Avas its author,
Avrote to him in connection Avith it, and Newman put him in
commuuication Avith Oakeley. The result was an acquaintance.

240 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
which later became a friendship, between Father Whitty and
¦ several of the Oxford school, and an indirect consequence of
this was a visit paid by Ward to Old HaU CoUege — then the
chief Diocesan Seminary for CathoUc priests in England —
early in 1844. Father Whitty, in giving his recollec
tions of the risit, tells me that he found in Mr. Ward
a knowledge of and acquiescence in Catholic theology even
beyond what he was prepared for. He expressed his astonish
ment at Ward's remahiing in the Anghcan Church, wliUe he
was a Eoman Catholic in everything but in name. Ward
made two remarks in the course of conversation which should
be recorded. First, as to his reluctance to move he said : "You
Cathohcs know what it is to have a Pope. Well — Newman
is my Pope. Without his sanction I cannot move." On the
other hand, he admitted the anomalousness of the position,
though he defended it logically. We have seen that it depended
on the lawfulness of holding all Eoman doctrine whUe still an
Anglican. StiU this theory might be at any moment con
demned by the English authorities, and so become no longer
tenable ; and he allowed the desirableness of having a direct
pronouncement from them one way or the other. " I am
Avriting a pamphlet," he said to Father Whitty, " which is fast
becoming a fat book, and which will, I hope, bring matters to
an issue." This " fat book " was the famous Ideal, and we have
now to speak of the circumstances which led to its publication.
The animus against the Oxford school which Tract 90
had aroused, and which the British Critic kept ahve, was not
.directed exclusively against the extreme section. Dr. Pusey
and his friends suffered for the sins of their brethren ; and
during the years immediately succeeding the celebrated Tract
two blows were dealt by the University at the party in the
persons of characteristically moderate raen. The first was on
the occasion of Isaac Wilharas' candidature for the Poetry
Professorship in succession to Keble at the end of 1841. No
one questioned Isaac AViUiams' fitness for the post, but the
cry of no-popery had been raised against his party, and though
the question ncA'er came to the poll, tn the comparison of votes
which was agreed to as a compromise to aA^oid an open fracas,
the Puseyite candidate could produce only 623 to his rival's
921. Mr. WiUiams consequently withdrew from the contest.

a THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 241 .
The second manifestation of hostUity to which I have referred
was on occasion of a sermon by Dr. Pusey preached on the
fourth Sunday after Easter 1843 on "The Holy Eucharist a
Comfort to the Penitent." Objection was taken to it, and
complaint made to the Vice-ChanceUor, Dr. Wynter, by Dr.
Faussett, Margaret Professor of Divinity. Upon this the
Vice-ChanceUor sent for the sermon, and appointed six doctors
in conjunction with himself to examine it. These doctors
were Dr. Faussett ; Dr. Jenkyns of BaUiol ; Dr. Hawkins,
Provost of Oriel ; Dr. Symons, Warden of Wadham ; Dr. Jelf,
Canon of Christ Church; Dr. Oglevie, Eegius Professor of
Pastoral Theology. Dr. Pusey was in consequence suspended
from preaching for two years, but the Vice-ChanceUor refused
to give the grounds of the condemnation. The indignation
excited among the High Church party was extreme ; the more
so as the feehng displayed was so manifestly unfah, the sermon
containing no extreme statement of doctrine whatever. It was
forthwith published and widely read.
It was perhaps not unnatural that the strong language of
the iraraediate adherents to the views of Ward and Oakeley,
and the stigma attaching to the whole party in consequence,
should have aroused the indignation of the more moderate
section against them. So far as Mr. Ward was concerned,
the accentuation of the differences between the schools, and
the irritation of the more moderate, were hailed by him witli
satisfaction. If principles were modified for the sake of peace,
the Movement might be diverted from the all-important aim —
the gradual undoing of the Avork of the Eeformation.
" The extreme tumult and disorder," he wrote, " Avhich at the
present tirae pervades our Church, to myself, I confess, is simply a
sign of good, and should bo a matter of surprise only to those who
have underrated the depth and the wide extent of corruption con
tained in that yoke which has so long oppressed us. As long as
peace and tranquillity seemed to prevail, and compliments were
being exchanged on both sides between the maintainers of the old
conservative principle and the members of the new anti-Protestant
school (as though there were no very substantial difference between
them), so long, doubtless, there was much in the external aspect of
our Church to awaken serious misgirings, Avhether the rising prin
ciple might not be stifled and the spreading flame quenched. But
now — when opinion is pursuing its free course and shows plainly
R

242 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
that it Avill not be stinted — when both sides are beginning to
discover the real points at issue and the Eeforraation itself is openly
and undisguisedly attacked, the comraotion which agitates the sur
face might be expected frora the mighty influences which are stirring
the depths. Principles and habits which have grown through three
hundred years cannot be uprooted by one gentle and peaceful effort,
and Protestantism is- a demon which will crueUy rend the body from
which it is preparing to depart."
Perhaps, too, amid the very strong and serious opinions
he held as to the necessity for plain-speaking, there was
an under -current of mahcious satisfaction at the horror
and bcArilderment caused by his open avowals and his
defence, from first principles, of conclusions which Enghsh
Churchmen had learnt from their infancy to regard as
impious, or Jesiutical, or sophistical, or associated with the
ages of benighted superstition. That such things should be
apologised for and pleaded for as not quite so bad as they
were supposed to be, might be just endured ; but how could
Churchmen believe their eyes when they found a member of
the enlightened and reformed Church of England writing of
them as great and important truths, and lamenting over the
intellectual stupidity and moral obliquity of Englishmen in
faiUng to recognise them as such ?
We can fancy amid the laborious and serious defence
of his theory in the British Critic an occasional pause
and chuckle of amusement as the sentiments of the
moderate party came before him. One of them speaks
with compassion of Ward and Oakeley, as being " open to the
sophistries which were abundantly supphed to them in Eomish
books, and which Churchmen had no means of counteracting
because they were read in secret and were not known to
Churchmen." The same member of the High Church party
continues his explanation in a similar strain, and marks the
cunning of the Eomish Church, and her adroitness in instUhng
the poison. " Eome," he says, " never loses a clue of this kind.
Wiseman saw that there was an opening for the chculation of
that false and plausible reasoning of Jesuitism in which he was
an adept ; skUful to put a plausible face upon the worst cor
ruptions, and to instU doubt where there was no real doubt."
Another clergyman wrote to Mr. Ward, fuU of horror at . the
superscription of a chcular which Mr. Ward as Bursar had

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 243
sent to him. The circular was addressed to " Mr. A. B." in
place of " the Eeverend A. B." The clergyman expressed his
concern and regret at Mr. Ward's conduct. He had known
that his opinions were extreme, he said, but he was not pre
pared for his retaining his position at Oxford and at the same
time openly denying the vahdity of Anghcan orders. It
chanced that the mistake was not Mr. Ward's at aU. He had
had many circulars to send out, and had given the envelopes
to the " manciple " or steward of the College, to Asnrite the
addresses. It may be readily supposed that he did not let
the opportunity pass. He Avrote expressing great regret for
the mistake in the address. He trusted that it would not
occur again. With regard to the supposed cause he could
relieve Mr. A. B. from his painful suspicions. The envelope
was addressed by the manciple. On receiving Mr. A. B.'s
letter he had sent for that functionary and cross-examined him
carefully, and he had much pleasure in informing Mr. A. B.
that the result of the examination showed that he had no
doubt whatever as to the vahdity of Mr. A. B.'s orders.
Mr. Palmer's alarm and horror at Ward's articles appears
frequently in the pages of his recently published recollections.
Such language as Mr. Ward's would have been impossible,
he maintains, had his advice been followed, and a definite
programme been imposed by the original leaders upon theh
foUowers. " By Newman's principle," he writes, " tins audacious
inteUect [Ward] was set free to deal with religion in the
British Critic according to the bent of its genius." He
attempted to persuade Newman to interfere and check the
offending writers. " I had an interriew Arith NcAvman," he
says, " and brought before him the language adopted in the
British Cntic, which had latterly become most painful to
Churchmen, abounding in what was utterly unfavourable to
the Church of England, and favourable to that of Eome. I
pressed upon him the great offence such things had given, and
urged him to use his influence as editor to suppress such
teaching in future. Newman rephed under erident excitement
and in a spirit that was new to me. He said that he was no
longer editor of the British Critic, that it had passed under
different control ; that the heads of the Church had thought
fit to condemn him and to destroy his usefulness ; that they

244 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
had sUenced him, and that they would now have to deal with
younger men, whom it was not in his power to restrain ; that
they would in future have to deal with a different class of
raen. He finally declared his resolution not to interfere."
Failing in his endeavours to induce Newman to move in
the matter, Mr. Palmer set about writing a pamphlet caUed
" A narrative of events connected with the pubhcation of the
Tracts for the Times, with reflections on existing tendencies to
Eomanism." He traced in it the dawn and growth of the
Movement, and contrasted, with bitter lamentations over the
excesses of the British Critic, the tone and objects of its first
promoters with those of the " extreme " party.
It is amusing, at a time when a syrapathetic estimate
of all creeds is so general as it now is, to note the absence
throughout the pamphlet of the sense that there were two
sides to the question. But it gives a graphic picture of what
the new school at Oxford appeared to be in the eyes of
Anglicans of a certain type. I proceed to cite a few character
istic passages : —
"Difficult as it has been for churchmen to realise the strange
and almost incomprehensible fact " — writes Mr. Palmer — " that any
who had ever professed Church principles should have a tendency
to Eomanism, they have been gradually and reluctantly compelled
to admit the lamentable truth. Actual secessions from the Church
— few indeed, but yet sufficiently alarming ; a change of tone in
private society; and above all, the doctrine continually and
systematically advanced in the British Critic, can leave no further
doubt of the existence of the evil. That evil has been distinctly
perceived for more than two years by some friends of Church prin
ciples, who have been withheld from taking any decided and open
step in opposition, by apprehension lest such a proceeding might
have the effect of precipitating events which they would deeply
deplore. It seems, however, that there is more danger in con
tinuing silent, when we perceive the increasing dissemination of
most erroneous and decidedly Eomanising views, under the assumed
name of Church principles, and when the advocates of those prin
ciples are universally identified with doctrines and practices which
they most strongly disapprove. . . . What can we say, what de
fence can be made when it is undeniable that Eomanism in its very
fullest extent has advocates among ourselves, that they have in
fluence in the British Critic, that they are on terms of intimacy
and confidence vnth leading men, that no public protest is entered
against theh proceedings by the advocates of Church principles !

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 245
It is a conviction of the necessity of making some attempt, how
ever feeble, to arrest an intolerable evil, which has induced me to
publish this narrative of our proceedings, and these records of our
principles and views."
The foUowing is Mr. Palmer's general summary of the
offences of the Eomanisers — which is foUowed by piMes justifi-
catives of the indictment from the articles of Ward and Oakeley.
" Within the last two or three years a new school has made its
appearance. The Church has unhappily had reason to feel the exist
ence of a spirit of dissatisfaction with her principles, of enmity to her
Eeformers, of recklessness for her interests. We have seen in the
same quarter a spirit of almost servility and adulation to Eome,
an enthusiastic and exaggerated praise of its merits, an appeal to
all deep feelings and sympathies in its favour, a tendency to look
to Eome as the model and the standard of all that is beautiful and
correct in art, all that is sublime in poetry, all that is elevated in
devotion. So far has this system of adulation proceeded, that
translations from Eomish rituals and ' Devotions ' have been pub
lished, in which the very form of printing, and every other external
peculiarity, have erinced an earnest desire for uniformity with
Eome. Eomish catechisms have been introduced, and formed the
models for similar compositions. Iri conversation remarks have
been sometimes heard, indicating a disposition to acknowledge the
supremacy of the See of Eome, to give way to all its claims, hoAvever
extreme, to represent it as the conservative principle of religion
and society in various ages ; and in the same spirit, those who are
in any way opposed to the highest pitch of Eoman usurpations are
sometimes looked on as little better than heretics. The Galilean
and the Greek Churches are considered unsound in their opposition
to the claims of Eome. The latter is held to be separated from
Catholic unity. The ' See of St. Peter ' is described as the centre
of that unity ; while our state of separation from it is regarded,
not merely as an evil, but a sin — a cause of deep humiliation, a
judgment for our sins. The blame of separation, of schism, is openly
and unscrupulously laid on the English Church. Her reformers
are denounced in the raost veheraent terms. Every unjust insinua
tion, every hostile construction of their conduct, is indulged in ; no
alloAvance is made for their difficulties, no attempt is made to
estimate the amount of error which they had to oppose. Dis
pleasure is felt and expressed if any attempts are made to expose
the errors, corruptions, and idolatries approved in the Eoman
Communion. Invocation of saints is sanctioned in some quarters ;
purgatory is by no means unacceptable in otheTs ; images and
crucifixes are purchased, and employed to aid in private devotion ;
celibacy of the clergy, auricular confession, are acknowledged to

246 THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT chap.
be obligatory. Besides this, intimacies are formed with Eomanists,
and visits are paid to Eomish monasteries, colleges, and houses of
worship. "Eomish controversialists are applauded and compUmented;
their works are eagerly purchased and studied ; and contrasts are
drawn between them and the defenders of the truth, to the disad
vantage of the latter. The theory of development advocated in
the writings of De Maistre and Mohler (Eoman Catholic con
troversialists) according to which the latest form of Christianity is
the most perfect, and the superstitions of the sixteenth or eighteenth
century are preferable to the purity of the early ages, is openly
sanctioned, advocated, avowed. In fine menaces are held out to
the Church, that if the spirit which is thus evinced is not encour
aged, if the Church of England is not "unprotestantised," if the
Eeformation is not forsaken and condemned, it may become the
duty of those who are already doubtful in their allegiance to the
Anglo-Catholic communion, to declare themselves openly on the side
of its enemies. I have no disposition to exaggerate the facts of the
case ; all who have had occasion to observe the progress of events
will acknowledge the truth of what has been said." i
Mr. Palmer's " narrative " was received with a chorus of
approval by all save the party against which it was directed.
Many of the High Church party agreed that it was desirable,
in pursuance of the same hne of dissociating themselves from
the Eoman School, to start a rival Beview in opposition to the
British Critic. But the state of public feeling made rivalry
unnecessary. Mr. Eivington, the publisher of the British
Critic, on Mr. Palmer's communicating to htm the idea in
question, at once offered to suspend the publication of an organ
so widely unpopular. Party feehng was accentuating all
round, and there were "wars and rumours of wars." Mr.
Ward haring no longer the British Critic to write in, and riewing
Mr. Palmer's "Narrative" and the action of his friends as a
challenge which called for an answer, set about writing a fuU
account of his riews in reply to Mr. Palmer's accusations.
Mr. Palmer teUs us that he was uncertain how large a body
the extreme party might prove to be, and suspected that it
might be considerable. Mr. Ward himself seems to have
thought it larger than it proved in the event, — when the crisis
came and it was necessary either to leave the English Church
or to renounce essential elements of Eoman doctrine. His
' See Palmer's Na/rrative, pp. 149-151.

X THE ROMEWARD MOVEMENT 247
book was calculated to bring matters to an issue, and to show
where each one stood, and was designed, as we have seen, as
a challenge to the Enghsh Church Authorities to declare
whether the position of the party within her pale was lawful
or no. The book was written in a few months, and appeared
tn June 1844. It was entitled The Ideal of a Christian
Church considered, im, comparison with existing practice. Of the
sensation it produced we can judge from the words of contem
porary writers, " AU England was moved," says Mr. Mozley.
It was the signal, in the words of Dean Stanley, for the " closhig
scene of the conflict of the first Oxford Movement." " Having
elaborated a good logical defence," continues Mr. Mozley,
" Ward took his ground, and defied Church and State, bishops
and Universities, to shake his reasonings or drive him from
his post. The defiance was so loud, so insulting, so exphcit,
the shame of not meeting it so great and so inevitable, that
the other side had no choice but to quit themselves like men."^
The details of the book, however, and of the struggle
which followed must be reserved for another chapter.
' In an article, which Mr. Mozley has since acknowledged. See the TiTnes,
7th July 1882.

CHAPTEE XI
THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHUECH
1844
The fuU titie of Mr. Ward's book was "The Ideal of a
Christian Church considered in comparison with existing
Practice ; Containing a Defence of certain Articles in the
British Critic in reply to remarks on them in Mr. Palmer's
Narrative." Its Dedication was as follows : " To all Members
of the English Church who have her welfare deeply at heart,
these pages, which have been prompted by an earnest deshe to
bear part, if it might be allowed, in the great work of restoring
unity of doctrine and action within her pale, are respectfully
and affectionately inscribed." And this dedication is further
explained in the Preface, where the author writes : " The one
object which has been nearest my heart throughout has been
the attempting to lay down a sufficient basis on which aU
who profess what are called ' High Church ' sentiments might be
able to co-operate without comproraise on any side." This
basis is the principle — which he maintains that Cathohc
asceticism has ever presupposed — " that careful and individual
moral disciphne is the only possible basis on which Christian
Faith and Practice can be reared." If it be allowed that the
existhig English Church entirely neglects, as Mr. Ward main
tains, the duty of such moral discipline, and that in conse
quence the " standard of saintliness " and the " average of
Christian attainment" among its members are "miserably
low," then he concludes " that to remedy these defects is an
object of so much magnitude as to offer the fullest scope for
all our energies; — that to act heartily and unsuspiciously on

CHAP. XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 249
our points of agreement is the sure mode of arriving at agree
ment on matters which are now points of difference." At the
same time he adds, " I have felt it a positive duty in no way
to conceal my own deeply and deliberately entertained opinions
on the ultimate result which would ensue from aU wsely
dhected endeavours to reform and purify our Church," that
result being a nearer and nearer approximation to the prin
ciples and doctrines current in the Church of Eome, and
finally to repentance for the schism of the sixteenth century,
and the wish to acknowledge once more the primacy of the
See of Peter, and its divine commission as guardian of Catholic
truth. The Ideal was a closely -printed volume of over 600
pages, which had grown far beyond expectation in the course
of writing. " The result of this mode of composition," says its
author, "has necessarily been to introduce an admixture of
temporary and accidental matter with the general statement
of principles ; an admixture which in many respects may
increase the reader's difficulty in following the course of the
argument." In attempting to give an analysis of its scope it is
necessary, as far as possible, to separate the elements here
referred to, and this wUl involve taking the questions the
work raises in their logical order, and not in every case foUow
ing the unmethodical arrangement which the mode of its com
position involved. I will endeavour first to give a sketch of the
general conception and aims of the Ideal Church, noting after
wards the special application of them made by the author to
the circumstances of the time, and his own defence of the out
spoken and uncompromising tone he had adopted with reference
to the Anglicanism of the day.
First of all we are reminded of the one ultimate aim pre
supposed in all real religion — personal sanctification and salva
tion. The achievements of the Church in her external history,
her successes in education and civiUsation, the contributions of
mediffival churchmen to art and science, the temporal triumphs
of the Church over the powers of this world, rising according
to the image used by the Fathers, as the ark of Noe on the
aU-destroying flood, above the ruins of the old Eoman Empire,
above the inundations of the barbarous tribes, taming and con-

250 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
verting Frank and Hun, Goth and Vandal, — all such achieve
ments, however they may enchain the imagination of her sons,
are in themselves external to her true ideal. That ideal could
have been realised as fuUy araong a nation of slaves, or in the
recesses of the Catacombs, devoid of this varied and attractive
framework, as it ever has been amid the pageant of secular
history. It consists simply and solely in the work of indi
vidual sanctification and salvation. " Let us carry with us,"
he writes, " this simple and obvious ideal of the Church's office
(which, of course, hke other ideals, is nowhere reaUsed in per
fection, but towards which indefinite progress may be made),
that her one only object shaU be to save the souls of those
comraitted to her charge, and that the very proof which she
offers to her children of her divine authority shall be the sense
entertained by thera of the spiritual benefits she imparts ; that
her voice shall be as the voice of God heard amidst the din of
this restless and sinful world, guiding us in perplexities, sooth
ing us in distresses, strengthening us in temptations, alarming
the careless and worldly, cheering the contrite and humble of
heart." And what is the practical work looked for on the part of
the Church with this aim ? First of all, what are the con
ditions of sanctification and salvation ? Two things — faith
and obedience to God's will. And, as we have seen, Mr.
Ward held these two to be in their fullest sense most inti
mately connected — spiritual vision depending on obedience, and
obedience pre-supposing the recognition of God's voice in the
conscience. This doctrine assumes in the Ideal the character of
a distinct philosophy, some elements of which have been already
referred to. He foretells the spread of what are now caUed
Agnostic opinions, and he maintains that once they become
recognised and popular, once they come before the average
mind as plausible, arguable, in some degree probable, once it
is found necessary in consequence to analyse to their basis
religious first principles in order to withstand the know-
nothing creed, the principles of the Eeformation wUl be found
to be in harraony with those of Agnosticism, and Cathohc
principles wiU prove to be its only antidote. And there are
two separate lines of thought current among Protestants, in
respect of which this view is developed. The Protestant prin-

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 251
ciple of private judgment or free inquiry is the first. He argues
— and we have seen at an earUer stage his general line on
this subject — that intellectual inquiry, pure and simple, gives
no sufficient assurance of any reUgious truth — not even of the
existence of God ; that the difficulties arising from the exist
ence of evU, from the restriction of our observation to finite
results of creation, from the apparent incapacity of our inteUect
for dealing with super-sensible reahties, and from other simUar
causes, leave the conclusion of the existence of an Infinitely
Wise, Good, and Powerful Creator far in advance of the premises
alleged. And as to the further steps whereby the Deist, the
Socinian, the Latitudinarian, are refuted, the arguments are far
too complicated to admit of complete settlement on merely
intellectual grounds. An intellectual examination, then, of
the grounds for rehgion, natural or revealed, leaves the case
not proven ; and the Protestant principle of private judgment
gives no securer method of inquiry.
But then the question arises — if intellectual inquhy gives
no sufficient warrant for even natural reUgion, are we to
account it a matter of the feelings only ? Are we to make
little or no distinction between faith and emotion ? If so,
surely we give up the fight, and surrender to the unbelievers ;
we confess that belief is not rational at aU. The answer to
this is as integral a part of the Ideal as the attack on the
principle of free inquiry. The difficulty as stated assumes that
the choice lies between intellect and feeling — that candid
intellectual inquiry or a merely subjective feeling or hn-
pression are the only grounds conceivable for rehgious faith.
Mr. Ward maintains a third ground — the ground of conscience :
and in doing so he attacks the emotionalness and subjectivity of
Evangelical Protestantisra as vigorously as he had opposed the
pure intellectuaUsm of the Latitudinarian. The line between
conscience and emotion is as sharply drawn as betAveen conscience
and intellect. In this part of his inquiry he treats expressly the
general question — is the human mind capable of knowledge al,
all of the great realities of Moral Truth — of realities outside
the range of phenomena ? Putting aside for the time questions
as to differences of creed, or the history of religion in the con
crete, he speaks of religious and moral truths as one, and as
identified with transcendental existences beyond the world of

252 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
phenomena, and he asks the question, now so famihar, then
scarcely considered in England — Is such truth within our reach
at aU ? He maintains with the modern Agnostic that the primd
facie aspect of the question is that it is unattainable. It
seems at first sight, and on an intellectual examination of the
popular proofs and evidences of natural and revealed religion,
to be so imperfectly estabhshed, and to rest on evidence so
uncertain in kind, and yet to involve such momentous and far-
reaching conclusions, as not readUy to justify belief in the first
instance. And again, its exhibitions seem at variance with
each other. The moral codes of Buddhism, Mahometanism,
Christianity, are in some respects directly opposed, and
Christian revelation itself involves ideas at first sight con
tradictory, as where the Supreme Being is represented on the
one hand as the embodiment of moral perfection, and yet in
the details of behef current among Christians as arbitrary,
capricious, tyrannical, revengeful, and the hke, — or where the
conditions of a probation imposed by Infinite Justice seem
to be in fact unfair ; or where children are said to suffer
justly for their fathers' crimes. The whole class of knowledge
known as religious wUl, then, be at first sight dismissed by the
rational critic as the outgrowth of imagination and emotion, of
fears and hopes, in the course of the varied history of nations,
with no sufficient basis in reason, and abounding in impossible
and not over moral conceptions.
But whUe in this first aspect raoral truth fails from its
identification with rehgious creeds — while the concrete exhibi
tions of religion lead the inquirer at first to an impotent
agnosticism, rehgious truth must rise up again to the patient
and earnest seeker from its indissoluble connection with moral
truth. Eehgious creeds as the perversion or imperfect exhibi
tion of moral truth are discarded, but the reality of moral truth
asserts itself again in the conscience, and gives the lie to the
wholesale rejection of rehgious truth in which the modern
Agnostic acquiesces.
Existing rehgious, from this new point of riew, must not
be destroyed, but purified and completed. Immoral excres
cences must be cut off; the inaccuracies of natural theology
must be corrected ; disproportionate attention to forms or
externals remedied ; but the heart of religion must in this

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 253
manner be saved, not destroyed. The first impulse, which
tended to condemn religion because of its human errors, gives
place to the wish to save it for the sake of the divine truth
which lies hid beneath them.
This deeper phUosophy begins by the recognition as a most
certain fact of something infinitely above our nature which
imposes upon our conscience its duties, an objective reahty of
which we are forced to own how little we can possibly know,
and yet of which we can hope for some economic representa
tion adapted to our needs here. This recognition does not
begin by directly answering or even contradicting the negative
criticism of the Agnostic ; rather it draws attention to a pheno
menon hastily and imperfectly noted by the negative critic.
That critic had presented as exhaustive tAvo alternatives as to
the origin of belief, and two alternatives as to the phenomena
under review. Belief must have its origin either in inteUect
or in eraotion; intellect could not support either Christian or
Theistic behef, therefore they were eraotional and irrational.
The elements to be considered in reviewing the human mind
and its sources of knowledge were intellectual and emotional ;
nothing commensurate with religious ideas could be found in
the intellect, therefore their seat was in the emotions or fancy.
Mr. Ward, on the other hand, noted with insistence a third
process of mind and a third class of phenomena. The sense
of duty, what Kant calls the only good thhig tn itself, the
" good vrill " which obeys that sense, the categorical imperative
" thou shalt " in the human conscience ; these are as distinct,
he maintains, from emotion as they are from the merely intel
lectual faculties. Conscience may not teU much at first, but
it is a faculty affording a glimpse of something objective, in
finitely higher in kind than the sensible things around us, and
an earnest man will set about seeing if he can cultivate the
faculty and develop this glimpse into something fuUer and
clearer. And here we have the third attitude, to which the
Ideal calls attention. Discursive argument on knoAvn facts
which one understands and fully gi'asps, is one thing; blind
surrender to subjective feelings another ; but there is a thfrd
which consists in Avatchful ami rcA'erent attention to an
external power above us, recognised as real and authoritative,
and yet not fuUy understood. " As the eyes of the handmaid

254 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
are on the hands of her mistress, so are our eyes lifted to the
Lord our God, untU He have mercy." The merely judicial
attitude of rericAving the things around us gives place to the
expectant, reverential, humble attitude of a learner, when the
conriction arises that something may be revealed to us higher
in kind, we know not what, not exactly commensurate with
our faculties, and yet not entirely beyond them, enlightening
as hght is to the eye-spots of the lower forms of animal exist
ence, rather than as the sun to human eyes, yet enough to
help in the guidance of our own footsteps.
This attitude is called in the Ideal the attitude of Faith,
and — to express its practical bearing — invoh'es the regarding
of any religious system with which one is brought in contact
in the sphit of a learner, anticipating that it will have much
to teach, and that what is true in it will take possession of the
purified soul, whUe what is false wUl fall away from its own
inherent rottenness, in proportion as the spiritual rision becomes
clearer. But how is this purifying of the spiritual rision, this
increase of the seeing power of conscience, to be gained ? By
obedience to God's wUl. And here is the marked contrast
between the theory of the Ideal and the subjective theory of
the Evangehcals. Luther's doctrine of justification, and the
many shadows and more or less perfect reflections of it to be
found in Low Church Protestantism, are based upon private
assurance and feeling, and have, Mr. Ward maintains, no
direct reference to the wUl's effort to conform itself to an
external standard ; and this defect extends to their whole view
of religious belief The individual feels justified and assured of
salvation by faith in the Eedeemer. There is no voluntary
act of submission to a power outside him. The utter worth-
lessness of all works before justification is insisted on, and
works after justification are the results of the sphit working
within the soul. Moral effort in rendering the soul fit for
grace, in submitting to God's wUl, in conforming with grace
when it is given, is not admitted into the system. Election
and damnation are totaUy arbitrary. The subjective assurance
results from no objective law, offers no test whereby fancy can
be distinguished from spiritual perception, but begins and ends
in itseU. This doctrine denied, according to Mr. Ward, the very

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 255
first principle of morahty; the principle, namely, that the
struggle to do right and obedience to conscience are the springs
of true moral and religious life. It opened the door to a
rehgion of feelings rather than of duties, and to the fanatical
excesses of reUgious excitement. It was thus in direct con
tradiction to natural religion, which has its very foundation in
the " sense of law." A man was acceptable, not because he
conformed to the law, but because a capricious power chose
him. He knew that he was acceptable not by comparing his
will with the law, but because his feehngs were specially
moved. In proportion as such a doctrine gained footing, the
Agnostic party were only too weU warranted in identifying
religion with excited emotion, and denying its claims as the
guardian of a moral law which was thus directly contradicted.
The intellectual basis of Protestantism, then, was utterly in
sufficient ; and its ethical superstructure gave it no higher
title to esteem, exalting, as it did, feeling at the expense of
duty, and allowing on occasion the arbitrary wiU of the Deity
to supersede or oppose morality itself Mr. Ward constantly
guarded himself against being supposed to make such accusa
tions against indiridual Protestants, whose personal piety was
so far superior to their principles ; but, riewing the principles
as such, of free inquhy and of justification by faith, and riew
ing their inevitable tendency as they become more fuUy
reaUsed, he condemned them as utterly subversive of trae
religion. In asserting, then, the principle of obedience to conscience
as the guide to more light, he insisted on the very points Avhich
Lutheranism denied or passed over ; on the intrinsic worth of
moral effort, on the necessity that revealed rehgion should have
its basis in natural rehgion, should develop and not contradict
it, on the moral Ught which comes not from attending to sub
jective feelings, but from conformity to objective duty. If
duty, perceived by conscience, is something reaUy existing and
outside the individual, and inseparably bound up with the
transcendental existences of which revelation speaks to us, it
is in accordance with analogy to look for more accurate and
full perception on these matters from the constant obedience of
our nature to its voice. Further, those men whose obedience
has been more complete than our own, wUl have, on the same

256 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
principles, fuller insight into rehgious truth than ourselves,
and will be our natural teachers.
Such were the principles with which he himself had
approached the study of the Catholic Church, and he found
there, as we have seen, their natural fulfilment and develop
ment. Its standard of sanctity seemed to him the highest,
the most complete development of natural goodness. Its
roU of saints was the noblest. It claimed for itself Unity,
Sanctity, CathoUcity, ApostoUcity, and thus corresponded
with that truth which raust be one, must be holy, must
be the same for aU, and which claims to be given by super
natural interposition ; and by these titles, he maintained, we
are led in proportion to our obedience to moral light, to look
on it as the repository of rehgious and moral truth, or rather as
that power which is commissioned to teach us all we can know
or understand of that truth. Its dogma is accepted as the
imperfect revelation of truths far beyond our full compre
hension, proved by its effects, because it aids in sphitual
advance, and has nourished and brought forth sahits, and sahits
are ultimately alike the Aritnesses and teachers of religion and
morals. This theory lays stress, as is obrious, on the personal
character of each man's apprehension of religious doctrine, and
hence the work of the Ideal Church — of which we spoke at
starting — in individual training. If religious behef depends
in the last resort upon moral discipline, and if that discipline
is in turn dependent on the reaUsation of rehgious dogma as a
motive for action, we at once see the general riew maintained
by Mr. Ward as to the double office of the Church, as teaching
orthodoxy to her children, and as supplying means for the
highest ethical training. The whole work hinges upon these
fundamental conceptions. Eehgious behef is nowhere aUowed
to be normally the result of the impartial review of certain
considerations, but is uniformly maintained to depend finally
upon an insight given by a special course of action, and it is
for the Ideal Church to prescribe that course of action — in her
ascetic and spiritual discipUne — and so to enable her chUdren to
see the truth of their behef. And this same system of rehgious
training, by meditation and self-examination, as it guards from
speculative doubt by making the soul reahse those moral first

jLn£. lUKAT OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 257
principles on which belief depends, so too it guards against
practical neglect of duty by bringing before the mind the
reahty of God's judgments and of the future Ufe.
And now, having spoken of the central principle of the
work, I have to give some extracts Ulustrative of points I have
named, and of the various modes in which he conceives that
the Ideal Chureh may carry out its work in the world.
Ffrst, as to the fundamental principle that conscience is
the organ of religious inquiry, and our primary informant in
matters of moral truth, he defines his position as foUoAvs : —
" Conscience, viewed in the abstract, has no power of discovering
rnore than the immutable principles of morality. But in proportion
as it is pure and well-disciplined, it discriminates and appropriates
moral and religious truths of whatever kind, and disposes the mind
to listen to this external message rather than to that ; whUe each
new truth thus brought before it from without, in proportion as it
is deeply received and made the subject of religious action and con
templation, elicits a deep and hitherto unknown harmony from
within, which is the full warrant and sufficient evidence of that
truth. "... A course of moral action leads us to know the existence
of realities and of essences, as opposed to mere shadows and phe
nomena ; it leads us to know that, wholly without those limits of
space and time which bind the intellect, there exists an objective
somewhat — call it, if you please. Moral Truth ; that the real form
and lineaments of this somewhat are absolutely beyond the reach
of our faculties ; that we cannot possibly know more of it here on
earth than that (in all probability) infinitely small part Avhich
happens to come in contact immediately or mediately Avith our own
conscience ; lastly, that our knowledge, however, of that part may
increase with rapidly advancing progress, in proportion as Ave bring
the intellect and the lower part of our nature into servile subjection
to our will, and that again into servile subjection to this external
law. Knowledge of phenomena is obtained by the intellect, know
ledge of realities by the conscience ; knowledge of phenomena by
inquiry, knowledge of realities by obedience ; knowledge of pheno
mena is obtained hy us as masters and as judges ; knoAvledge of
realities is obtained by us as disciples and slaves ; the one pursuit
tends to pride, the other indispensably requhes and infaUibly in
creases huraUity.
"He Avho is thus disciplined, Avho feels deeply his exceeding
blindness, helplessness, and ignorance, and the existence without
him of an unkiioAvn and unspeakably precious reality, wUl eagerly
believe and appropriate Avhatever is placed before him in the course
S

258 THE IDEAL OF A CHKl^TlAiv LjauKCn ^n«.r.
of nature professing to be a voice from, or an economical represent
ation of, that reality." ^
Whether such a professed voice from above be what it
claims to be must be learnt by experience. If it is found to
correspond with and develop the moral nature, and in propor
tion as it does so, that is the best sign that it comes wholly or
in part from the world of Moral Truth, and thus we may have
a portion of true revelation mingled with portions of error.
It may be that an inquirer must rest content with such frag
mentary knowledge.
" But," he adds, " rather would he anticipate that there is some
home in which this moral reality may have a secure rest and lodg
ment, that it may be dispensed to men according to theh needs ; or
at least he would be drawn with a most eager and spontaneous
longing towards any body which should profess to be that home.
And those marks in any society would especially attract his view
which appear to be most kindred in their natures and origin to
Eternal Truth itself; for inistance, to use ecclesiastical language.
Unity in doctrine throughout all ages ; Sanctity ; Catholicity, its
proclaiming one and the same message in all lands ; ApostoUcity, its
referring back to some signal interference with the risible course of
things from the world ' beyond the veil.' " ^
The CathoUc Church professes to be such a home, and
offers at once the notes of Unity and Cathohcity, whUe it
claims hkewise to inherit the truth of the Apostles. However,
the chief note of all, and that most vrithin the power of the
faithful and devout Christian to test, is that of Sanctity. The
fulfilment within the Church in an infinitely higher degree of
that goodness in the natural order which conscience apprehends
in the first place, is the decisive note of her divine commis
sion. The sahits of the Church are the great witnesses to her
dirinity. In them are reproduced in sorae measure the hfe
of Hhn who was the perfect fulfilment of the Moral Law ; and
as He was Himself the vritness to the truth of His message,
1 Pp. 509, 510, 512.
'^ A friend of Mr. Ward's — a careful thinker and student — notes in connection
with the points referred to iu the text the curious resemblance in view on these
matters between A^ard on the one hand and Kant and Fendlon on the other, and
yet the difference in method. The mystical insistence on conscience aa the source
of religious knowledge is Kantian ; the love of souls is suggestive of Kn^lon.
But what is peculiar to Ward is his " always speaking according to the fulness of
his own mind, and not according to the mind — full, empty, or obstructed — of his
friend or opponent."

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 259
SO are the saints in aU ages Aritnesses of the home in which
that message is fully preserved.
" In studying," he writes, " the endlessly various specimens of the
saintly character we raore and raore clearly discern in each one of those
individuals, indefinitely varying frora each other in natural disposi
tion, in period, rank, education, sex, and age, a certain inward
character, surprisingly similar to that of all the rest, and evidencing
a certain complete and singular fulfilment of the Natural Law.
Thus we learn the peculiar expansiveness and elasticity of the
Gospel gift, and the wonderful capabilities of human nature, so
infinitely beyond all that could have been imagined before Christ
came ; and by means of these we bring home to our imagination
the perfect and entire law of God, Arith a minuteness, particularity,
and diversity of exhibition, which could in no other way have been
attained. Above all the lives of saints are, as it were, spiritual
ladders by which we rise into a continually fuller and less inadequate
appreciation of His life, who is the one full erabodiraent of that
law. ...
" [The saints] are in every age the great external witnesses of
Christianity, the great visible notes of the Church. They bear
witness in their own person, a far surer witness than could bo
borne by any other external sign or proof, to the depth, reality,
efficaciousness of Christian doctrine ; theh living example is the
warrant whereby we receive the recorded actions of holy men in
times past as possibilities and truths, their habits and Avays ot
thought, their very personal presence, are, as it were, the quicken
ing and informing spirit, whereby the great events of the Church
start from the canvass and present themselves to our imagination
as realities with a definitive existence and meaning ; while at the
same time the same holy men, not by means of formal calculation,
but by the spontaneous impulses of the Holy Ghost within them,
are the great originators of that infinite variety of external shapes
which the one ancient truth assumes in every successive period, that
it may cope with the peculiar evils and meet the peculiar exigencies
of that period." ^
As to the offices of the " Ideal Church," he maintains that
she should ever be active and on the alert, with the one object
of sanctifyhig and saving all she can. She is to do corporately,
and by her ordinances, and with uniform riUes and a uniform
spirit, what many good Christian teachers would Arish to do
each in his own way. She is thus to have all the advantages
of order, numerical strength, development from antecedents,
experience by past faUures and successes, acknowledged rules
J Pp. 556, 557, 558.

26o THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
and standards. He treats of her work and its sphit, speaking
of her in some sense as of a person with a distinct character.
Some samples of his writings on this head avUI be in place
here. "A Church which is ever on the watch to catch souls," he
Avrites, " will take especial advantage of those moments, when from
reverse in worldly business,' or sickness, or sorrow, or from some
temporary religious impressions, an impulse towards good is felt by
one who has hitherto led a worldly or an openly immoral life. She
will 'fall on the neck,' as it were, of such an one, 'and kiss him';
she will endeavour to place religion before him in a light as
attractive as truth Arill permit, and to make that task as easy and
joyous to him as the case allows, which at best must be most weari
some and grievous, of retracing his steps and disentangling himself,
under God's grace, from the miserable thraldom of sinful habits.
At the same time some wisely and religiously constituted system of
observance must be always at hand, to fan the embers of piety into
a steady glow ; to obtain possession of him, as it were, and secure
him from the world, before the latter has had time to reassert its
dominion ; to bring before him religious truths and sanctions, and
impress them on his whole nature ; to strengthen and protect him
in holy seclusion, till he may be able again to go forth into the
world without imminent danger of falling a second time away from
the narrow path.
" But the father who fell on the younger son's neck and kissed
him said also to the elder, ' Son, thou art ever with me, and all that
I have is thine.' An object, then, still dearer to her heart even
than comforting and retaining the penitent will be to guide those
aright who have never wholly Arithdrawn themselves from under
her Lord's light yoke ; to relieve their perplexities, point out their
duties, direct their obedience, show them their spiritual dangers,
guide their penitential acts, and mould their habits after the
Christian model. All this without cramping or fettering, AvhUe
she directs the free and natural development of their character, or
interfering with that endless diversity of opinion which must ever
exist on the application of true principles in each particular case.
This diversity was plainly intended by God, and is an important ,
means by which He works out His purposes in our regard ; nor
could the Church more seriously mistake her duty than by an
attempt to substitute, on such matters, arbitrary ecclesiastical dicta
tion for well regulated individual responsibility.
" A function of the Church, even more important than any we
have yet named, is what may be briefiy described as the training
up of saints; the sedulously tending of those who, whether in
reward for a consistently holy walk in time past, or by the free

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 261
working of God's grace, have aspirations within them that tend to
a high and noble strictness of hfe, and who thirst for a far more
entire seh - abnegation and devotion to God's will than that for
which the ordinary walks of life afford sufficient scope. To place
before Christians such as these the opportunity of consecrating
wholly to heavenly realities those ardent and enthusiastical feelings,
which men among us ordinarily squander on earthly and transitory
objects, objects which neither are worthy of them, nor can possibly
satisfy or repay them ; this is an office which an ideal Church wUl
prize and cherish in her heart of hearts, as her noblest and most
transporting privilege ; she will feel it as the greatest of aU the
mercies that she has received from God, that she is allowed, in
return as it were for His infinite loving-kindness, to offer before
Him specimens of the capabilities of our common nature, and
visible proofs of the inexhaustible power of His wonder-working
grace. But in times like the present (as indeed at all times more
or less), for the mere purposes of practical efficiency, such institu
tions will have an absolutely inappreciable value. We are, if I may
use a homely expression, at a perfect standstill for want of saints
and saintly men ; surrounded and menaced on all sides by dangers
the most imminent, frora which, humanly speaking, we see no means
of escape, until it shall please God to raise up for our needs, and to
do His work among us, intrepid, self-devoted, ardent, enthusiastic,
humble, holy, heavenly -minded raen. A truth to which I shall
have occasion more than once to recur in what wUl follow.
" From what has been said it results, that a Church such as Ave
are now contemplating will possess a profound and accurate system
of moral, of ascetic, and of mystical theology. On every other subject
except theology it is an universaUy admitted axiom, and even in
theology few would deny it in terras, that empirical knowledge is
worth very little, but that scientific knowledge may be worth a very
great deal. It seems very plain that a person, whose peculiar study
it is to gather facts from all quarters, to examine them carefully, to
classify and arrange them, is likely to take a very much more en
larged riew of any given phenomena than one Avhose experience
is partial and (as it were) accidental : that one whose special
business it is to speculate, whose education has been directed to
that very object, and whose life is one continued practice in its
performance, will certainly speculate to very much better purpose
than ono whose habits have been in quite a different direction :
lastly, that principles formed after deep and patient study, under
no present bias, and Arith a single eye to truth, may possibly be
very good; but that principles extemporised on the spur of the
moment to meet a present emergency, and under the bias caused
by tho peculiar circumstances of that emergency, AriU to an absolute
certainty be altogether bad. But how much stronger does the

262 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
contrast become, when Ave remember that the phenomena now in
question are not those accumulated by one man, however candid,
observant, and indefatigable, but the recorded experience of all past
ages of the Church ; and that the speculation is not that of one
thinker, however gifted, but of a series of doctors, each one review
ing, and modifying or confirming, the dicta of those who have
preceded him; and whose theories are confronted and verified
every year by an almost innumerable number of practical applica
tions. This then being granted, it follows that, whereas the Church
witnesses in the midst of us the great principles of morality, and is
bound moreover to assist her children in applying them to their
peculiar circumstances, in knowing what is and what is not sin, and
how grievous in themselves are particular sins, she must needs have
a recognised body of morral theology : that whereas she is bound to
guide them to the various moral and theological virtues, to all holy ¦
and Christian tempers of mind, and to implant maxims of conduct
and inculcate practices of piety, which shall lead to those virtues
and tempers, her ministers must be sufficiently versed in a certain
uniform and recognised body of ascetic theology : that whereas her
highest office is to train, not ordinary Christians, but those pre
destined to be saints, and whereas those of her children, who are
climbing up that arduous and dizzy path, are free in great measure
from the temptations which beset ordinary men, but are exposed to
perils of a more subtle indeed and transcendental, but no whit of a
less fatal, character ; whereas they require to be warned against the
very masterpieces of Satan's subtlety, who would fain ' transform '
himself even ' into an angel of light,' if by so doing he may rob one
among those exalted sphits of the crown prepared for him; and
whereas their salvation (speaking generally) is no more assured
before the end of their pUgrimage than that of the humblest
Christian ; she must possess a certain number of thorough pro
ficients in the noble and wonderful science of mystical theology." '¦
Further, he maintains that there is really a close connec
tion between the highest attainable holiness in conduct, and
the knowledge of pure doctrine in its enthety.
" The duty of a Christian (as distinguished from his gifts and
privileges) may profitably be contemplated according to the weU-
known dirision of faith and obedience. In the former is included
(though much more is also included) knowledge of the great Christian
doctrines. Christian precept and Christian doctrine, these are the
two great external facts which essentially claim the Christian's
attention and allegiance. And in a very remarkable manner they
react on and correspond to one another. Pure doctrine requires
1 P. 15-18.

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 263
for its reception a purified heart, a purified heart requires for its
support and progress in holiness pure doctrine. In no other way
than by the habit of strict and anxious conscientiousness can that
faculty be acquired, which alone hears God's voice where others
hear it not, or interprets His words aright wh8re aU hear them.
In no other way than by contemplation, reception and hearty appro
priation of sound doctrine, is this conscientiousness made reaUy
Christian obedience, preserved in its first fervour, or rather in a
continually increasing degree strengthened, deepened, extended, led
forth into a wider range, and endued with a higher and more
generous quality; adding refineraent and delicacy to zeal and
warmth, confident hope to godly fear, joyous exultation to deep
contrition and humUity. Other studies, however profitable, even
the religious study of Holy Scripture, much more its critical ex
amination, or the knowledge of Christian antiquities, or of Church
history ; still more again the evidences of religion, or the geography
of the Holy Land, or the harmony of sacred and profane history, —
no part of which class indeed has any pretension to be considered
any part or parcel of theology at all ; — but all these, except so far
as they are contained in one of the two first -named classes, are
no essential part of the Christian's knowledge. " Many barbarous
nations," says St. Irenaeus, " believe in Christ without written
memorial, diligently preserving the old traditions." Without read
ing Scripture or knowing a word of it, many may be good
Christians ; without obeying Christ's commandments and beheving
in His doctrine, they camiot. And the Church from the first has
acted upon this principle. She has excommunicated those, and those
only, who were sinful in life, or heretical in doctrine.
"The drift of this theorising is to explain the intimate and
indissoluble connection which exists between the combats sustained
by a pure Church against sin (which we have already riewed in sorae
of their multiform aspects) and the witness borne by her to Christian
doctrine. There is perhaps no one principle in all history, on which
there is so surprising a consensus of a priori reasonings Arith
observed phenomena as on this : that any Church which shall not
contain at her centre a deep dogmatic theologj', exuberant Arith
life, indomitable in energy, that Church is languid in her spiritual
functions, wavering and unauthoritative in ruhng her own subjects,
feeble and prostrate in her external relations. And what the
wonder ? Saints are the very hidden life of a Church, and saints
cannot be nurtured on less than the full Catholic doctrine." ^
The Ideal of a Church is further developed " as gratifying
our aspirations and affections." The tables are turned on those
who uphold the Eeformation as a protest against formalism
1 Pp. 18-20.

264 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
and a rindication of indiriduahty in the spiritual Ufe. Such
offices are claimed as especially Cathohc traits in the Ideal
Church. He recalls the condition laid down in his earher
works, and already referred to in these pages, for the
fruitfulness of ecclesiastical ordinances, " that the people shall
not be unduly restrained by forms ; that they shaU be allowed
and encouraged to vent theh warm devotional feelings in such
external acts and gestures as naturaUy express them, not be
bound by harsh and cruel custom to an exterior of pohte
indifference, and a cold, cramping, and stifling uniformity."
The Ideal of a Church in its several relations to the poor,
to the rich, to the State, follows. The Church, as the home of
the poor, was a conception ever most attractive to him, "Fhst,"'
he writes, " I will consider those, far the dearest objects of
affection to the Church, as to her heavenly master, the httle
ones of Christ, the poor ; that class to whose number belonged
the Apostles, St. Mary, our blessed Lord Himself; that class
whom He begins by pronouncing blessed ; that class whom He
vouchsafed to single out from the rest, and say that to them
the Gospel was preached." The Ideal of a Church in keeping
ever unspotted by the smaUest stain the principle of Christian
equality, protecting the weak and redressing their wrongs,
refusing to bend before the proud and powerful, or to recognise,
as real greatness that which has in it no moral element, is
brought forward tn this connection : —
" When we bear in mind the appalling denunciations against
wealth which we read in Scripture, how marked and authoritative
an attitude should we not expect such a Church to assume in her
dealings Arith this class of her children ! how urgent and impressive
her admonitions to them to place no trust in those riches, but to
live as ' poor in spirit.' "
The partly unconscious deference paid to wealth and posi
tion in the Enghsh Church, not indeed in outward formahties,
for of this he did not deny the seemliness, but in the actual
feeling and practice of the average clergy, was specially obnox
ious to him. It was the surrender of the sense of true Chris
tian greatness ; and he beheved the danger of ministers of the
Church not having a sufficient sense of their right position in
this respect to be aU the greater from the subtlety of the fault.
" It is very much more difficult," he says, " to prevent ourselves

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 265
from being dazzled and carried away by rank and station than
might have been supposed ; insomuch that he who is not conscious
of the difficulty gives great ground for fearing that he is very
deeply plunged in sin. To feel as much abhorrence for the caUous
selfishness and insensibility of the rich as for the peerishness,
querulousness, and discontent of the poor ; for the luxurious seH-
indulgence of the one as for the more coarse and brutal sensuaUty
of the other ; for indolent and slothful waste of time and talents in
the former, as for confirmed lariness in the latter ; this is an achieve
ment which few of us perhaps (even though knowing the importance
of the object) have at all adequately reached. I am not speaking
of our outward demeanour, which ought of course to differ according
to the difference of rank of those whom we address ; but of inward
sentiment in regard to plain matters of right and wrong. And
very few have any idea, until they have thought of the subject, to
how wonderful an extent their judgments in such matters are dis
torted by the presence or absence of worldly and adventitious
advantages." ^
In deahng with the State, too, the Ideal Church must be
no time-server, but must be prepared to remonstrate on occasion
with those in power : —
" She will feel it her duty to proclaim aloud the general appli
cation of Christian principles to political government; and plain
undeniable sins, such as flagrant unjust war, or a measure conspic
uously oppressive to the poor, she AriU fearlessly denounce. Against
sinful government of a less glaring and overt character, she avUI
not be sparing in her secret but urgent remonstrances ; nor avUI she
consider it any derogation whatever from her proper functions to
dhect her children in the wise employment of such constitutional
privileges as raay be entrusted to thera, Avith the view of obtaining
amehoration or redress. The office of protecting the poor against
wrong is especially her own ; nor will she consider any one of her
attributes more noble, precious, or inalienable. But, on the other
hand, should the civil poAvcr appear actuated by a real desire to
govern religiously and well, she avUI herself set the example to all
hor children of the most dutiful and reverential loyalty. She avUI
still reserve it as her high pririlege to represent in detaU and Avith
earnestness the distresses and sufferings of the poor to those
governors who, as she believes, are so wUling and deshous to
alleviate them, but will, in that case, submit her judgment on the
appropriate remedies to the bearers of the temporal sword." ^
I have now reviewed with tolerable completeness the
general principles as to the office and character of the Ideal
1 P. 112. = P. 49.

266 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
.Church which Mr. Ward advocates in his book. Passing to
his appUcation of those principles to the existing state of the
Church of England on the one hand, and the Church of Eome
on the other, we find an unsparing rigour in his criticisms of
the shortcomings of the former Church, alUce in the matter of
ascetic discipline, of the ideal of sanctity, of systematic moral
theology, and of definite dogmatic teaching. His absolute
openness tn the expression of his opinions he defends at length,
and I shaU presently quote passages frora his explanation.
But the intensity of the opinions themselves might at first
sight carry a false impression of wanton exaggeration — though
the careful reader wUl gather its explanation from incidental
remarks here and there. It has been said of him that he was
an extraordinarUy close, candid, and accurate observer of his
own character and needs, but had httle power of entering into
minds unlike his own. He wrote, consequently, chiefly for
himself, and those Uke hiraself He was, as he says in the
Ideal, " by teraperament open to the eruptions of speculative
doubt," and could enter fully into sceptical difficulties. Again,
the irregularity of hfe, the hstlessness and idleness, the periods
of indevoutness, the absorbing love of amusement to which his
iU-health and temperament made him Uable, were his great
difficulties in the spiritual life. And both these classes of
difficulty called especially for active doctrinal and ascetic
guidance, for definite rules of conduct and authoritative defini
tions of faith.
Persons who, with much less of devotion to religion, ac
cepted theh hereditary creed without question, and performed
the duties of the day with readiness, who were naturally orderly
and exact, did not come within the scope of his observation.
He might admit their existence, but he did not reaUse their ch
cumstances — and at all events their situation did not inspire his
writings. He did not understand them enough to prescribe for
them. The existing English Church might for such persons be,
from this point of riew, a comparatively natural and suitable
home. And again, persons little given to speculation might lead
a life of practical usefulness and devotion, without reahsing the
evU results of the principles which Mr. Ward condemned, or
even maintaining in words principles which their conduct con
tradicted. Mr. Ward aUows aU this parentheticaUy ; and it is

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 267
obvious that for such persons an unmeasured denunciation of
a Church which by his own confession contained most exceUent
and God-fearing members, woiUd seem exaggerated, eccentric,
and unreal. A Church meant to them httle more than a body
of men, and a coUection of ordinances appeaUng to thefr higher
nature and rehgious feehngs.
But to Mr. Ward the realisation of principles was part of
his habitual life, and the necessity of an external guide for
faith and religious practice was paramount. That careful self-
discipline which he maintained to be in a measure necessary
for all, he felt to be most necessary for himself. Those prin
ciples which tended on the one side to scepticism, and on the
other to passivity in rehgion, in him led straight to their fuU
results. And further, he held that however slowly, and
through however many intermediate stages of inconsistency,
principles do in the long run issue in their fuU consequences
for the world at large. The spirit of free-inquhy which was
now advocated by God-fearing men like Arnold and his pupU
Stanley, would in time develop into the universal questioning
of all religious truth. The elements of Lutheranism and Cal
vinism to be found among Evangehcals might not be incon
sistent \rith the piety of Cecil, or Martyn, or Scott, and yet
they contained the seeds of Emotionahsm in rehgion, and of
divorce of religion from morahty, which might issue in the
excesses of the Methodist love-meetings, and give a colourable
justification to the cry of modern Agnostics that Christianity
has not been the preserver but the destroyer of the moral
ideal, that salvation and not morahty is its object.
Such is the attitude Mr. Ward assumes tliroughout. He
cries out vehemently against principles, whose temble results
were so invisible at the time that the cry seemed to some almost
grotesque frora its intensity. He saAV that it would be so, and
felt that it was only the few who Avould understand him. He
did not write, he said, for " that multitude of men who have
neither great moral sensitiveness nor great inteUectual keen
ness " ; but rather for " those more consistent spirits who in
every generation determine most certainly for good or evU the
character of the foUowing generation." And this being so, he
adds later, "I have endeavoured throughout to speak respectfuUy
and charitably of individuals, but plainly and distinctly of

268 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
principles. Of two principles especially which raay be con
sidered the distiaguishing characteristics of the Eeformation,
whether here or abroad, — I mean the Lutheran doctrine of
Justification and the principle of private judgment, — I have
argued that in thefr abstract nature and necessary tendency
they sink below Atheism itself" And the same personal
experience of the results of those principles which identified
free inqmry with infidelity, and a religion of emotion with the
abandonment of the moral law, filled htm with horror at a
Church-system which not only neglected the enforcement of
ascetic rehgion, but openly tolerated the two fatal principles
within her pale. If he was right, the tendencies at work
within the Enghsh Church would ultimately lead to the
subversion of religion, natural and revealed, and no terms
could be too strong when used in condemnation of forces of
such a nature. " I cannot but hope," he writes, " that many
statements, when viewed in their proper place and connection
with reference to such a view, may appear even to those wholly
unprepared to receive them, as not destitute of reason and
probabUity, which might of themselves, without such explana
tion, most naturaUy convey the imprecision of being wUd,
violent, and eccentric, of being introduced in a spirit of wanton
ness, and maintained in a sphit of exaggeration."
The actual controversy which had led him to write was, it
wiU be remembered, Mr. Palmer's attack on his articles in the
British Critic. He accepts to the full that writer's adverse
account of his riews.
"I beg most distinctly to say," he Avrites, "that I have no per
sonal complaint whatever to make against Mr. Palmer ; on the con
trary, that his quotations from my articles have been on the whole
perfectly fah, and that , in using the severe language which he has
adopted concerning them he has been performing that which accord
ing to his theological riews was even a duty."
And he would not allow that others whose articles had
likewise been criticised in the Narrative were in any degree
responsible for the bad hnpression produced by the British
Critic, for which he considered himself alone to blame.
" I mentioned at starting," he says, " that it is no business of
mine to defend the works of other writers, but I cannot forbear

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 269
from adding here that the other articles in the British Critic seem to
me so carefully and habitually deferential towards our Church, that
I cannot fancy they wordd have been accused of an unsettling or
' disturbing ' tendency, had they not been coloured in the reader's
mind by the tone or expressions of my own articles."
Eeferring more directly to the outspoken tone which
characterises the work throughout, and of his reasons for its
adoption, he gives a home thrust at those Churchmen who had
been fiUed Arith pious indignation at the reserve of Tract 90 —
who had stigmatised it as disingenuous and Jesuitical.
"When certain persons desire by all allowable methods,'' he
writes, " to ' unprotestantise the National Church,' to supplant one
dominant principle by its contradictory, granting the lawfulness of
the desire (which is not the present question), it is very far from
easy to discover what is and what is not the mode of proceeding
likely to carry with it the least of perraanent evil. Nothing in the
whole world can be more unreasonable, however natural, than the
respective complaints that are made. We use open and straight
forward expressions ; we are condemned loudly as hurrying persons
forward prematurely, startling, alarming them, and the Uke : we
write in a more reserved and cautious style ; suspicions are in
sinuated of dishonesty, underhand dealing, nay, positive mendacity.
The substance of what we advocate is so extremely displeasing to
many around us that the manner, really, I think, hardly receives
the credit due to it. However, as I have reason to think, from what
I hear and see, that few writings have perplexed and alarmed re
ligious and excellent men more than ray own articles in the British
Critic, I do hope that it may tend to restore peace and quietness
of mind, if I state, vrith the utmost attainable openness, what I have
meant (and do mean) and what I have not. Accordingly, if any
thing wliich follows shall appear unnecessarily uncouth and offensive
to existing prepossessions, let it be attributed to my earnest desire
of expressing myself franldy and intelligibly."
A little later he says in reference to the same subject : —
" An objection has been taken to my torm ... a word has been
used in a private communication Avhich I have not seen in print,
but Avhich expresses the sort of feehng ; it has been said, then, that
[ray protests] appear couched not in sorroAvful but in ' spiteful '
terras. I think I perceive what that element is in them which has
given rise to such a feeling, and I humbly trust that it is neither
wronc nor unbecoming. In the first place, most certainly it does
not show that Avhat appear to me the corruptions in question give
me no pain. For years, consciously or not, and in various shapes
not recognised by me at the time as modifications of the same

270 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
symptoms, had my feelings been oppressed and (I may really say)
tortured by this heavy, unspiritual, unelastic, prosaic, unfeeling,
unmeaning Protestant sphit ; aU this time my ears were stunned
with the din of self-laudation, with the words ' pure and apostolical,'
' evangelical truth and apostolical order,' and the like most miserable
watchwords ; those from whom I learned at one moment some high
and elevating truth, at the next crushed and overwhelmed me by
some respectful mention of our existing system ; with the single
exception of Mr. Froude's work, no external response could 1 find
to my ceaseless and ever-increasing inward repugnance against the
habits of thought and action prevalent in our Church. At length I
was able to fix with some definiteness on the particular cause of my
annoyance ; and soon afterwards (in writing two pamphlets three
years ago) I had the opportunity of speaking out. To say that the
hearty and energetic tone in which I did speak out indicates my
real feeling of sorrow to have been shallow and trifling, is an allegar
tion which I AriU raeet with a parallel case. Let us suppose any one
to have been affiicted by some most painful illness for many weeks,
but to have been compelled to restrain his outcries hitherto, because
of dangerous Ulness in the next house : the impediment being re
moved, he cries out with no subdued tone, and with great relief of
mind ; on which he is accosted by a stranger with the observation,
' Sir, your pain cannot be very serious, or you would not cry out
with so good a heart and with such evident satisfaction.' And
secondly, I trust that allowing myself to speak in such a tone was
not in itself wrong or unbecoming. When the evils to which one
desires to draw attention are facts whose existence has hitherto
been unknown, all men's natural feelings conspire with the obvious
rule of right, and the communication is made in a sorrowful and
subdued spirit. But when the facts have been knoAvn from the
first, but not recognised to be evils, then I conceive that words of
zealous, indignant, declamatory remonstrance are generally allowable,
and often the most fitting of all possible methods."
He defends the loyalty of his intentions towards the
Enghsh Church in the foUowing characteristic passage : —
" Mr. Pahner has shown, by unanswerable eridence, what I can
hardly fancy any one reading one of my articles without discover
ing, and what on occasion I have asserted in terms, riz. that on a
great number of points I conceive that the English .Church would
act wisely in making Eome her model; whereas he has merely
assumed what was the real point at issue, that such an opinion
argues want of patriotism in an Enghsh Churchman. Yet in
parallel cases we find the very opposite held universally. No one
would caU an American of the present day unpatriotic because he
very much indeed prefers the state of things which existed before

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 271
the revolt, and because he is anxious to do his utmost in restoring,
if possible, constitutional monarchy. An EngUshman is not patriotic
in that he believes [and propagates the beUef of an EngUshman
beating ten Frenchmen, but in that he makes England the sphere
and centre of his energies, loves to study the feelings, habits,
opinions of Englishmen, and brings whatever knowledge he
possesses of other countries to bear upon his favourite subject
of thought ; is more pained by the vices and more dehghted by the
rirtues of Englishmen than by those of Frenchmen, Gemifins, or
Italians. I am not attempting to decide how far we are justified
in allowing patriotism to supersede universal philanthropy ; aU
acknowledge that we are in some degree, and all acknowledge that
we are not entirely ; but so far forth as we are patriotic, so far
have we such sentiments as I have just described. But on the
other hand, to intoxicate ourselves vrith insular pride, to bury our
selves in the thought of England's real or supposed exceUences, to
be blind to her failings, and to believe, even in the utmost simplicity
of heart, that she is the envy of surrounding nations, an eighth
wonder of the world, this is no real patriotism ; it is at bottom but
base pride and vulgar nationality."
One more quotation is requisite to give a true idea of the
spirit in wlhch the work is written. The one accusation
which had given him pain in this case, as in the case of his
Few Words in Defence of Tract 90, was that of moral seU-
sufficiency — of criticising the Estabhshment as an inadequate
sphere for the exercise of his own spiritual attainments. His
own feeling was on the contrary, to an intense degree, that it
is those who are least advanced in spirituahty who most stand
in need of a system for their guidance and help ; and that in
moral as in artistic progress rules are absolutely necessary for
the mass of students who have no special aptitude or have
insufficient experience, whUe they may be in a great measure
dispensed with after their work in fixing habits of mind and
action is completed. He criticised the Anghcan Church from
an intellectual point of view with zest and confidence for the
inconsistency of her position and organisation, and he was pre
pared to maintaia his criticism. But in the matter of her
moral character and disciphne he did not profess to sit in
judgment. He had stood to her in the relation of disciple and
not of teacher ; and he complained not that she did not corre
spond with his high spiritual attainments, but that she had
faUed to teach a weak though wUling pupU.

272 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN LHUkCH chap.
" In a word," he Avrites, " the charge of intellectual presumption
to any extent (though I trust that it is not deserved) wUl give me
very Uttle pain or uneasiness ; but should it be imagined that the
free strictures and confident opinions in which I may indulge im
ply any arrogation to myself of moral superiority over those whom
I criticise ; should it be imagined that when I acknowledge the
English system to he in many particulars uncongenial to my own
feelings, I allude to the impediments by which it thwarts the aspha-
tions of a holy mind towards saintliness, rather than the absence of
such helps as may support an erring and sinful mind in the most
ordinary path of salvation ; should this be imagined, I should be
almost overpowered with shame and confusion."
The practical portion of the book hinges mainly upon two
points — his criticisms of the existing Anglican system, and
his intimations that the Church of Eome is, in Ms opinion, to
a great extent the natural guide and model for its reformation.
In the first of these points he is concerned with contrasting
the Anglican establishment with the primitive Church, in its
doctrines, discipline, and ideals, with a view to securing the
co-operation of the whole High Church party in the work of
reform. He presses to their consequences the Catholic prin
ciples professed by the whole party, and urges on them the
necessity of working in unison, in spite of their differences in
matters of detaU, in the work of unprotestantising the National
Church. Leave the results, he pleads, in God's hands. Do
not shrink from restoring Catholicism because you hear it said
that such a course wUl lead to popery. Be true to yourselves
and your principles, and if popery be false, be sure that the
Catholic reformation wUl stop short of it, whereas if in the
long run the Catholic principles you prize so much must lead
to popery, you may be sure that when you have approached
nearer to such an issue by conscientious obedience to those
principles, you wUl view popery, which is now your bUe mire,
with very different eyes. Work with us in raising the Church's
ascetic tone. Keep, if you please, to primitive devotions and
practices ; abstain from foreign customs which are uncongenial
to you ; but work practicaUy in the Established Church for
the restoration of the principles of faith and obedience, for the
destruction of the Lutheran sphit of self-righteousness and
passirity ; for the practical realisation of those Catholic doc
trines which are presupposed in the Anghcan Prayer-book.

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 273
So far the Meal had a reaUy practical aim, and its aim
was equaUy practical in the effort Ward made, correlatively
to his exhortation, to point out the " degradation," from the
Catholic standpoint, of the existing AngUcan system. He
endeavoured to show what a long way it had to go to
arrive at any approximation to the Cathohc ideal ; how, at a
time when the uprooting of old-fashioned principles, pohtical,
moral, philosophical, and the consequent anarchy of thought
and of life which reigned — a legacy in part from the French
Eevolution — clamoured for the offices of a Church, of a high-
souled spiritual teacher, which should chasten men's hearts,
attract their affections, give rest and assurance to their inteUect,
the Enghsh Church was not only found wanting, but seemed
as unconscious of the danger as of her own inabihty to meet
it. The best sign, he maintained, of real religious life in a
Church was consciousness of its shortcomings, and of its con
stant need for reform. In a Churcli, as with an indiridual,
self-righteousness must mean blindness, and humihty was the
condition of spiritual light and heat. The self-satisfaction
then of the English Church, its arrogation to itself of especial
purity, its serene unconsciousness of the dangers to faith which
modern thought was bringing, or of its own want of vital
strength for the meeting of those dangers, — all this was the
worst of omens at starting, and the best justification a priori
for the very unfavourable Adew he took of her condition and
prospects. The Eoman Church claimed no such purity as a
local Church. The holy See indeed, as mouthpiece of the
Church Universal, claimed to preser\-e the truths of revelation ;
but in Eome itself, as elsewhere, constant humihation and con
fession of sin and shortcoming — of the evUs of the times and
the corruptions of the place— Avere held to be conditions of
moral health. In England alone the spirit of self-righteousness
had so taken possession of the Church as ahke to inthnate a
wide spread of unconscious corruption, and to call for loud and
energetic protests as the only means of arousing its slumbering
consciousness of sin.
And of what nature Avere the corruptions and shortcomings
in question ? He denied that they consisted merely in want
of life and sphitual energy, — a want Avhich led her ministers
to neglect their duties or the practice of what they preached.

274 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
Such faults may be found at any time, however pure the doc
trine and perfect the professed system of a Church. But Avith the
Enghsh Church there was, he maintained, a far deeper source
of corruption on the moral side, while her intellectual position
was hopelesslj'^ anomalous. The source of her moral corruption
was the more or less conscious, and more or less complete
adoption in its pale of the principle of private judgment, and
the Lutheran spirit of which I have already spoken. The
source of the intellectual confusion to be found in her position
and formularies was in part a whoUy indefensible past history,
beginning with the time when she assumed the right to separate
herseU in life and creed from the rest of Christendom, and.in
part the conflicting views tolerated within her pale during
the period of her separate existence. Two parties — the one
approaching near in essentials to Eoman Catholics, the other
to dissenters, — opposed to each other far more than to the
external bodies I have mentioned — existed in the Anglican
Church, and each had its share in determining her formularies.
The result was that opposite Adews as to the nature and offices
of a Church, as to the rule of faith, as to the true ethical ideal,
as to innumerable mattets of doctrine and practice, were em
bodied in the public documents and official records of one
Church. It was declared to be at the same time a branch
of the Catholic Church and a state estabhshment of Protest
ants ; subject to the descendants of the Apostles and the ser
vant of the ciril ruler; representing the Christianity of the
fathers, and rejecting their views for the pure and Apostolical
Christianity of the Eeformation; regarding the Church as visible
and invisible; in its view of orders, of the Eucharist, of Justifica
tion, affirming in one word what it denied in the next; Pro
testant for the most part in its articles, and Catholic in its
Prayer-book. And this inteUectual confusion in its turn reacted upon
its moral tone. Those Protestant doctrines which affirmed
justification by faith, the principle of .private judgment, the
rejection of the saints of the Church as fanatics, of the ideal of
monasticism as fanatical, were all part of a certain general sphit,
and that spirit was to sorae extent abroad within the English
Church, affecting even those who adhered to the High Church
or Catholic party. The spirit of self-denial, beginning in

THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 275

humble obedience to conscience, and culminating in enthusiastic
self-prostration and self-effacement for the love of God, formed
a coherent moral ideal One part depended on another.
Eeject the idea of the union between austerity and sanctity,
and you have mortaUy wounded the whole of the Cathohc
spirituality. So too the sphit of faith involved a whole chain
of consequences. Admit indiridual private judgment as to
the letter of the Scripture, and you have mortaUy wounded
the very basis on which Christian behef is reared. In both
cases the Protestant principle involved a compromise with the
world — a hesitation in carrying out the unearthly ideal of the
Christian religion, which was fatal, in proportion as it was
realised, to its life and influence.
War was, then, to be made on the principles of the
Eeformation. Consistent High Churchmen should recognise
this — or at least if they maintained, as Dr. Pusey did, that
the English Eeformation was not anti-Cathohc, they must
recognise that uncomproraising war is to be waged against that
Protestant spirit which has gained a footing in the Church
whenever and however. Let all High Churchmen unite in
this. Let thera labour for the restoration of the Cathohc
character of the Church, and above aU of such ascetic dis
cipline as will raise her moral tone and expel the Lutheran
and Evangelical spirit frora her pale.
So far, as I have said, Mr. Ward's book had a practical
aim in which High Churchmen might unite. When, however,
he proceeds to ask the question — how are the shortcomings of
the English Church to be remedied, his answer was so un
palatable to all but his owu immediate foUowers that it served
only to put on record frankly his own views and plans.
Briefly, the remedy for her defects as a moral educator Avas imita
tion of the Eoman Church, and the cure for her Avavering and
contradictory teaching was to study the official and obhgatory
teaching of the Papal see. He did not, indeed, as Ave have already
seen, urge any immediate adoption of either, and he repeatedly
disclaimed any wish to enforce practices or doctrines for which
Englishmen were unprepared ; but stUl he intimated plainly
his own opinion tiiat assistance in the work of restoration was
to be looked for in this one quarter, and that although it was
not the immediate duty of individuals to conform to the Eoman

276 THE IDEAL OF A cW^UlAN CHURCH chap.
model, ultimate confornuty to it would be the natural result of
following out theh principles, while the study of Eoman doc
trine and ascetics would show thera that its raain features
were identical with that primitive Catholicism which they
were labouring to restore. That such was his view he thought
it right to own publicly, and to anticipate and obriate the
charge that he was instilling popery into the Church unawares.
StUl he urged on his fellow High Churchmen to leave this
result to be decided by the event ; to refrain from any Eoman
practices and doctrines which did not comraend themselves
to thefr conscience, content only to aUow liberty all round —
the moderate holding less, the extreme holding raore — and
thus to let the whole body of the " Moveraent " party move
forward freely and act for some years together, at the end of
which time he held that the free and unchecked development
of thought in individuals Avould be found to have brought the
great bulk of them into far closer accord with Eome.
Finally, he justified his position with reference to the
Eoman Church from the very fact that hc was confident that'
' the Movement was towards Eome, and that the attitude of the
party was not heretical or separatist, but rather tending to
reunion and submission as soon as it was practicable.
Such is the main argument of the Ideal, so far as it deals
with the crisis which had given rise to its production and the
existing state of the English Church. Of the general style of
its composition enough specimens have been given. It remains
to cite some of the stronger and most characteristic expressions
of opinion, in admiration of Eome and detestation of the
English systera, which are scattered here and there through
out the work.
His irapatience at the lack of intellectual consistency in
the formularies of the English Church, in its practical teaching,
and in the rule of faith advocated for individuals within its
pale, may be instanced by the following quotations. He ex
presses himself as unable to attach "any sense whatever to
those often-repeated words 'teaching of the English Church,'"
and proceeds : —
" That the phrase ' teaching of the Prayer-book ' conveys a
definite and important meaning I do not deny ; considering that it
is mainly a selection from the Breviary, it is not surprising that the

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 277
Prayer-book should on the whole breathe a uniform, most edifying,
deeply orthodox spirit ; a spirit which corresponds to one particular
body of doctrine, and not to its contradictory. Again, that the
phrase ' teaching of the Articles ' conveys a definite meaning I cannot
deny; for (excepting the four first, which belong to the old theology)
they also breathe a uniform intelligible spirit. But then these re
spective spirits are not different merely, but absolutely contra
dictory; as well could a student in the heathen schools have
imbibed at once the Stoic and Epicurean philosophies, as could a
humble member of our Church at the present time learn his creed
both from Prayer-book and Articles. . . .
"But even were the formularies of our Church accordant
instead of discordant, urgent instead of wavering, definite instead
of vague, still so long as her practical teaching is in the highest
degree uncertain, conflicting, and contradictory ; when members
of our Church seem hardly to agree in one matter of positive
opinion that can be named, except thc purity of our Church;
and when, even as to that, each party maintains that our
Church would be most impure if she taught doctrines which the
other party strenuously contends she does teach; I can see no
possible defence for the position 'that her formularies, in their
primO, facie bearing, demand implicit reception from her children.'
Surely, until she is able so far to invigorate her discipline as
that one and one only doctrine in essentials can be taught within
her pale, she can have no warrant in making this demand. How
can that sacredness and divine authority which attaches to our first
instractors be fairly claimed for the English formularies in their
natural sense, when in point of fact they are not our first instractors 1
It is the creed of our parents which first introduces us to the creed
of our Church, and colours the latter with its OAvn hues. And
when our moral development has compeUed us to desert that creed,
those do not fairly challenge our adherence who give to our fonnu-
laries their most literal sense, but those who give to them that
sense which promises most fairly as a rest aud satisfaction to that
development." ^
In his own case, as we haA-e seen, this sense Avas that
which is most in accoixl with the teaching of the Church Uni
versal, and that Church was represented by the official teaching
of the see of Eome. To other High Churchmen it might be a
Catholicism less developed than this. AnyhoAv, this must be
the principle of an English Churchman's behef if he is to have
any hope of a progressive or consistent religious life. A literal
acceptance of fresh statements in opposition to the UAing creed
1 See p. 70.

278 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
one has already accepted, and sees no reason to doubt, is
impossible — unless, indeed, the author of those statements is
deemed infallible, and the earlier creed is thereby ruled to be
false. But the existence of an tnfalhble teacher is absolutely
denied by English Churchmen, high as well as low.
" The Eoman Catholics, indeed, generally say that Christians
are, in matters of doctrine, bound to receive implicitly the decrees
of St. Peter's Chair ; but those who so think, think also that, by
a Divine promise, that Chair is infaUibly saved from teaching
error. But to reject the doctrine of the Church's infallibility as
a figment, to proclaim as a great and glorious truth that all bishops
are but fallible men, and that the chief bishop on earth sanctions,
nay, practises idolatry ; and at the same time to call for impUcit
deference and submission to the doctrinal statements of a certain
small body of bishops who are indefinitely at variance with each
other, and who, according to Mr. Palmer's own theory, are separated
off from the great body of the Catholic Church ; this is a flight of
conservative extravagance, an assumption of spiritual despotism,
which can find no parallel beyond the circle of Anglican 'High
Churchmen.' " i
Next, as to the shortcomings of the English Church in her
practical action and in her appliances for moral discipline, his
indignation is pointed by her absolute satisfaction with her
own performances, which seems, in his eyes, to caU for the
most unqualified indictment.
"To speak plainly," he writes, "believing, as I most firmly do,
that ever since the schism of the sixteenth century the English
Church has been swayed by a spirit of arrogance, self-contentment,
and self-complacency, resembling rather an absolute infatuation than
the imbecility of ordinary pride, which has stifled her energies,
crippled her resources, frustrated all the efforts of her most devoted
children to raise her from her existing degradation, I for one,
however humble my position, will not be responsible for uttering
one word or implying one opinion which shall tend to foster so
outrageous a delusion."
And, true to this promise, he devotes a chapter to " Our
existing practical corruptions," the tone of which may be in
ferred from the headings of its several sections — " Absence of
aU system of moral discipUne for the poor," " Absence of aU
system of moral discipline for the rich," " Our Church's total
V Pp. 72-73.

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 279
neglect of her duties as guardian of and witness to morahty,"
" Our Church's total neglect of her duties as Aritness and
teacher of orthodoxy," " Powerlessness of our Church to per
form her other duties, especially that of protecting and helping
the poor, whUe these are neglected," and so forth.
This indictment is supported by contrasting the machinery of
Anglicanism with the practical system of the Eoman Church — a
standard which naturally EngUsh Churchmen would not accept,
but which once accepted made the eridence overwhehning. Once
it was allowed that constant systematic and ascetic training of
the will was the proper office of the Church, that such training
strengthened more than it cramped the soul, whUe its absence
led in most 'cases to various degrees of laxity of conscience
rather than to freer and more acceptable works done according
to the spirit, the English Church stood condemned. And this
was Mr. Ward's starting point. Christianity was a remedial
religion ; constant laborious training of the Avill and affec
tions in order to make God, sin, judgment, eternity, realities to
the human mind — prone as it was to earthly rather than
heavenly thoughts since the fall — was the great Avork of the
Church in the world. With abundant quotations from recog
nised works, this aspect of the Eoman Cathohc Church is
exhibited, and the absence of shnilar provisions in the English
Church pointed out. Meditation — to make the traths of
reUgion realities to the imagination, constant examination of
conscience that sin may not be passed over or forgotten, occa
sional retreats as a fresh start after neglect, the literature of
ascetic theology and hagiology to stimulate in the serA-ice of
God by example and precept, the Confessional for adrice and
consolation, moral theology to save priests from caprice and
give them the benefit in advising their penitents of the
experience of the Corporate Church, — here are the spfritual
weapons of the Church of Eome ; and Avliere, he asked, can we
find thefr counterpart in England ? ^
111 this connection he dwells on the poAver of the Con
fessional as a tribunal, bringing before the rich, amid the
' At the end of this chapter is given in full an account of the rule. of life in a
French Ecclesiastical Seminary which AA'^ard quotes to point the contrast between
the spiritual training of French priests and English clergymen. It was sent to
him by the Eeotor of tho Seminary in question.

28o THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
luxury of temporal power and independence, their true position
as Christians, reminding them of the awful dangers they incur,
and correlatively protecting the poor from their tyranny.
"Let us place before our minds the ideal picture of a
Avealthy man, encrusted in all that intense pride and selfishness
Avhich so naturally results from the unlimited power of gratify
ing his AA-ishes, and from his habit of seeing all men and things
around him placed at his disposal. Conceive him kneeling before
a humble priest, prajdng for absolution at his hands, answer
ing his questions on the habits of his daily life, receiving stern
rebukes or earnest exhortations ; who can fail to see that this is the
very medicine suited to his disease, the very moral discipline which
may at least make a beginning of that necessary task (and the
beginning is proverbially the most difficult part of any task), the
gradual overthrow of his antichristian habits and principles. Well,
the EngUsh Church has destroyed this discipline ; what has she
substituted in its place? She can not destroy the unparalleled
denunciations found in Scripture against the rich as a class ; and
she professes herself pre-eminently a Scriptural Church ; in what
single particular does her practical system recognise those denuncia
tions ? It has been profoundly observed by Mr. Froude that obed
ience to spiritual rulers is the same trial to the rich that obedience
to temporal rulers is to the poor; but our Church has sunk all
claim to the former in her earnest and repeated inculcation of the
latter ; she has given up that part of the ancient system, then, which
bore hardly on the rich, and added new strength to that which bears
hardly on the poor. This does not seem in accordance with the
Scriptural model.
" There is no particular in which the depraving effect of riches
is more signally displayed than the habit of mind whereby the
wealthy man tends unconsciously to consider the poorer classes of
society almost as beings of a different nature from himself; to
fancy that they are bound from their very position to labour inces
santly for his convenience and enjoyment, whUe he incurs from his
position no corresponding duty of self-denying labour for their bene
fit. The only effective manner, of course, in which a Church can
possibly witness against, and tend to remedy this miserable sin, is
by displaying the opposite principle in the most lively and energetic
manner iu her own practical action ; by showing, in a manner not
to be mistaken, how dear to her are the poor, with what sympathy
she regards their sorrows, with what consummate Arisdora, Arith
Avhat ungrudging devotedness of purpose, she labours for their
removal. That this cannot be said of our own Church at present,
with the most distant approach to trath, seems now pretty gener
ally acknowledged. On her, then, far more than on any other

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 281
body (as professing to be the National Church), lies the grave and
serious responsibility of that wide gulf of separation between rich
and poor ; that contrast of selfish and careless neglect on one side,
with the union of rankling suspicion and hollow, cowardly serrility
on the other ; which (whatever honourable exceptions may exist) is
now so actively and increasingly mischievous throughout our social
system." ^
Again he Avrites : —
" It has been so generally professed of late years that a Christian
society is bound to be a ' poor man's Church,' and that it is the high
and peculiar prerogative of the Church to alleviate the misery of
the humble and oppressed, that the task seems incumbent on me,
however ungracious, of estimating the praises heaped on the English
system by this standard also. Let me ask, then, whUe aU the
frightful and accumulated mass of misery which now oppresses our
land was gradually, during the last sixty years, growing to a head,
where was the voice of the National Church heard in draAring
attention to its growth? That the civil government, who are
obliged to cope day by day with present and passing emergencies,
should not have had the leisure or the thought to take a deliberate
and far-seeing view of our social condition — this is hardly a matter
of blame ; but where was the ' poor man's Church ' \ How is it
conceivable that she can at that time have reaUy thought or cared
for the poor without becoming cognisant of the fatal disease in pro
gress, and loudly proclaiming its existence to the country and to
the world ? What other appellation than that of ' grossly and
miserably corrupt' can we give to a system under Avhich such
monstrous neglect was so much as possible ? Well, at length,
through no agency of hers, the attention of the whole nation has
been called in some insufficient measure to the peril under which
Ave lie ; all honour to Lord Ashley and his precursors and coadjutors
in that noble task I Has the English Church at least exhibited the
grace of humiliation or repentance ? Has the blush of shame been
visible on her cheek? Have her ministers sorrowfuUy and con
tritely confessed their unpardonable and sinful dereliction of duty,
and taken on themselves bitter shame as fact after fact Avas brought
to light ? — facts which it Avas their bounden duty long since to have
dragged into the face of day, and Avhich place in still stronger
colours the godlessness and depravity of vast portions of her fiock.
Incredible as it might have appeared, the very conception would
seem never to have occurred to them ; Arith unruffled broAv and
complacent voice they have still repeated their insane watchwords,
' pure and apostolical,' ' holy and venerable ' Church, and have dared
to speak of the corruptions of other Christian bodies, when they
' Pp. 373-374.

^ 282 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
should rather have been in lowly and penitential abasement, mourn
ing those of theh own." ^
But the general want of moral actirity in the Church —
whether tn such quasi-pohtical duties as those just referred to,
or generally in energetic moral training — he attributes prim
arUy to the influence of the Lutheran doctrine of justification
by faith only. The sphit breathed by that doctrine, he holds,
tends in every department to make religion a matter of feeling
rather than of duty, of subjective and passive emotionahsm
rather than of energetic disciphne of the avUI. " That doc
trine," he writes, " formaUy denies the truth which seems to
me the key to aU moral and rehgious knowledge, and which
I mentioned as the leading idea of the present work; the
truth, namely, that careful raoral discipline is the necessary
foundation whereon alone Christian faith [and practice] can be
reared." He devotes a chapter to the consideration of the doctrine
in question, both in the abstract and in its effect on the
Enghsh Church in the concrete. It is not, he holds, fuUy
accepted by raany, but it has tainted existing Anghcanism.
It is professed especially by the Evangelical party, but is
found among them side by side with the truly religious sphit
which their habits of prayer and study of the Scriptures cannot
fail to beget. The inconsistency between the two — between
the godly " fear and trembhng " which they learn from Scrip
ture and the assurance of salvation preached by Luther, be
tween the idea of " working out their salvation " and that of a
salvation afready secured by beUeAong it to be secured, and so
forth with other doctrines — leads to a peculiar confusion in
thefr doctrinal statements, and an unreahty in the use of
them. I subjoin some specimens of his language on this
point. Ffrst, as to the practical temper of raind of Evangehcals,
he allows that they do own to principles which are opposed to
Luther's view. An Evangelical adopts Luther's language, but
not to the full his riew, and hence a medley of ideas, and a
divorce of phrases from their natural meaning. " No one sub
stantive idea is in his mind," he writes, " distinguishing him
from the orthodox, but only a confused medley of conflicting
1 Pp. 420-421.

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 283
and inconsistent ideas, draAring him, one this way one that ;
some leading in aU consistency to sanctity in the fuUest sense,
some leading in aU consistency to Arickedness of the deepest
dye. He has no idea which he can recognise as his character
istic mark, and so is obliged to constitute as such the stiff
stereotyped adoption of certain strange uncouth expressions."
" These expressions are," he says, " co,nt terms and phrases ;
the fluent and familiar enumeration of which seems considered
by multitudes an almost unfailing note of spirituahty, and the
absence of which is taken as quite an unfaUing note of worldh
ness." So far as he can unravel the EAangeUcal position from
its inconsistencies of expression, he explains it as foUows : —
" [Evangelicals] seem in general very remarkably unAriUing to
confess that [sanctity] consists in unreserved submission, even in the
smallest particulars, to the will of God ; nay, they seem unconsciously
to regard such a view of it (fearful to say) as legal or Jewish. There
is perhaps nothing which so forcibly brings home to one's mind the
close affinity of Lutheranism to antichrist as this most truly observ
able circumstance. If it is possible to analyse their way of looking
at things it would appear that they regard complete independence
of God's will as worldliness or carnality, complete and (so to speak)
abject dependence on it as superstition, legality, and monkery ; that
they consider true Christianity to consist in a certain via media
whereby in very important matters our will goes spontaneously in
the same direction with God's will ; in other matters we foUow our
own will without fear or responsibility, but in neither case are we
called on to subfnit our own to His."
Of the. abstract Lutheran doctrine, apart from its modified
concrete exhibitions, he Avrites in yet stronger terms.
He charges it with separating entirely the idea of being
acceptable to God on the one hand, and the ideas of personal
hoUness and moral effort on the other. It enunciates, he says,
" two grand heretical paradoxes — (1) that the ncAvs of forgive
ness of sins can convey peace to the afflicted soul before holiness
is implanted, or, in other words, that man's misery in his natural
state is fear of punishment only and not consciousness of sin ;
and (2) that such news of forgiveness, if really apprehended,
will lead without pains or trouble on our part to obedience and
hohness, or, in other words, that self-denial is antichristian."
On these principles he comments as foUows : —
" In the Catholic Church, from first to last, there has been one

284 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
and one only consistent type of the interior life. The Christian
pilgrim has felt himself placed in this world in the midst of a
severe and unceasing confhct, his demeanour under which deter
mines his lot hereafter ; contending for a prize which needs aU his
efforts to secure it ; climbing up towards it by a severe and rugged
path (certain, indeed, of saving hira, be he true to hiraself and faith
ful to God's guidance, yet so arduous that sluggishness or self -security
Avill be certain ruin) ; surrounded on all sides by supernatural agen
cies, evil angels assailing him, good angels supporting him ; a spec
tacle in his struggles to the whole heavenly court ; gifted, indeed,
by God with blessings the most ineffable and transporting even
here, even in his pilgrimage, yet but faint foretastes these of the
far greater bliss in store for him when he shall reach his Home ;
every suffering rightly endured, every exertion daringly and re
ligiously ventured, increase, as he feels, the reward purchased for
him by One who ' first bore His own cross,' a cross infinitely heavier
and more grievous than He has laid on any that follow Him.
Apostles, prophets, saints of the early, of the mediaeval, of the later
Church, whatever . . . differences they may have had in their ol^ec-
tive theology (differences, however, in no way affecting the highest
object of faith), have had this one uniform subjective view of the
Gospel scheme ; and this the Lutheran system cuts down at its
very root. For labour cheered by hope it substitutes the listless
ness caused by assurance ; in the place of sin as the one only evil to
be dreaded, the one only enemy to be feared, it puts its absurd
chimera of ' self -righteousness ' (as though there were almost as
much danger in obeying too much as too little) ; for spiritual bless
ings reaching to the very innermost heart and soul, it speaks of the
cold knowledge of our external and forensic pardon ; for a noble
and sustained triumph over the old man, it has, as it were, peevish
and querulous complaints of his power. To speak as if this latter
scheme of doctrine were in itself otherwise than radically and funda
mentally monstrous, immoral, heretical, and antichristian, shows but
an inadequate grasp of its antagonistic truths.
"... And in proportion as we believe that this hateful incubus
cripples the noblest energies, stifies the loftiest aspirations, oppresses
the tenderest feelings of those whom it has claimed as its own, will
we from time to time Uft up our voice in plain and inteUigible
warning, if haply its victims may bethink themselves of testing its
strange and arbitrary decrees by — we care not what standard which
even professes to be divine, by Scripture, by conscience, by the voice
of the Church." ^
Further, he plainly intimates his opinion that, quite apart
from Christian revelation in any shape, the Lutheran substitu-
1 Pp. 302-303.

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 285
tion of a merely external so-caUed righteousness for the duty
of internal submission of our own wUl to that of God strikes a
blow at the first truths even of natural religion.
"That obedience to the will of God, with whatever sacrifice
of self, is the one thing needful ; that sin is the one only danger
to be dreaded, the one only eril to be avoided; these great
truths are the very foundation of natural religion ; and inasmuch
as this modern system denies those to be essential and necessary
traths, yea, counts it the chief glory of the Gospel that under it
they are no longer truths, we must plainly express our conviction
that a religious heathen, were he really to accept the doctrine which
Lutheran language expresses, so far from making any advance, would
sustain a heavy loss in exchanging fundamental trath for funda
mental error. Our readers must admit that we have never been
slow in acknowledging how much of sincerity and self-devotion
there has in fact been among those who have embraced this heresy,
and to how very great an extent, where that has been the case,
individual conscientiousness has neutralised the anti-religious infec
tion. But neither may we forget, on the other hand, how miserably
also has this same system in its turn crippled and enchained the
religious instinct of its rictiras, and prevented thera from caiTying
that instinct forward to its legitimate development — the Catholic
scheme. Hence the inconsistency, both moral and inteUectual,
which is so surprising a phenomenon araong the ' Evangelicals ' ;
surprising, that is, at first sight, but no longer surprising when Ave
regard them as possessed really with religious feelings which draw
them io Christ, but possessed also by a human traditionary and
raost un-Scriptural system which draAvs thera directly from Hira.
Hence that feebleness, ambiguity, uncertainty of doctrinal state
ment, that inequality, unshapeliness, dwarfishness of spiritual stature,
which persons at all conversant Arith Catholic models are so pained
and disappointed in finding (with very few exceptions) in what they
hear or see of religious Protestants." ^
These three extracts, published originaUy in the Brit{.<:h
Critic, are reproduced in the Ideal. Further extracts are
given, waxing stronger and stronger, moA-ing definitely to the
comparatively safe ground of the abstract doctrine Avith its
legitimate logical tendencies.
" A rehgious person," he writes, " who shaU be sufficiently
clear-headed to understand the meaning of Avords is Avarranted
iu rejecting Lutheranism on the A-ery same grounds which
would induce him to reject atheism, riz., as being the contra-
1 Pp. 304-305.

286 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
diction of truths which he feels on most certain grounds to be
first principles." And again : " If it be true that the idea of
duty is more deeply rooted in our nature even than that of
God (though it is painful to make such comparisons), a serious
result follows in regard to Lutheranism. When we speak of
Lutheranism we speak of an abstract doctrine which cannot,
we beheve, be held consistently even by the devUs, but which
is held to an alarming extent among Evangelicals, though incon
sistently." This crescendo from the British Critic cuhninates in
the crash of a fortissimo tn the pages of the Ideal, where he winds
up by saying : " Speaking stiU of the same abstract Lutheran
doctrine, there is no one chcumstance connected Avith my
humble efforts in the British Critic on wlhch I look back with
so much satisfaction as on this, — that I have ventured to
characterise that most hateful and fearful type of antichrist in
terms not wholly inadequate to its prodigious demerits."
FinaUy, as the Lutheran system is the embodiment of that
spirit which denies that moral self-discipUne is at the root of
reUgion, so the Eoman Cathohc system is, in his opinion, the
embodiment of the sphit which affirms it. In spite of the
corruptions of Cathohc countries, the CathoUc Church has at
once preserved the ideal and the machinery which enables
those who make use of it to aim at that ideal He speaks of
Eome as " that quarter where my own eyes are always first
directed when in search of spiritual wisdom," and of the exist
ing Cathohc Church abroad as the " fit model " for the Enghsh
Church, because "Eome has preserved in the main, and we
have not, what is so inestimably precious, the high and true
idea of a Church ; whatever raay be the present lukewarmness
of her chUdren (of which for myself I reaUy cannot judge nor
have ever expressed an opinion), whenever zeal, energy, and
piety revive they can act immediately in the Church by means
of the system they find, whUe araong us they must begin by
attacking the system they find."
He gives at great length and in great detaU instances of
Eoman spiritual training, which for the raost part requhe the
recognition of no distinctively Eoraan doctrine over and above
what aU High Churchmen profess to accept. However, these
are given only as suggestions, to be adopted or not according
to the individual's bent. What is strenuously contended for

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 287
is that in general the EngUsh Church is whoUy wanting in
such discipline and the Eoman Church abounds in it. " Let
us only in sorae poor measure learn to reahse the inveterate
corruption of our own system, and the exceUent lessons we
may learn from the Eoman Church towards supplying our
deficiencies in such points as these; let this be reaUy
acknowledged, and it is hardly possible that the actual intro
duction of external and formal changes can be too gradually
or cautiously made."
Eoraan doctrine and Eoman practice are to be suffered,
but not taught. Those who support Eome and those who
support the Eeformation are each to be free to hold thefr
opinion, combining to purify the Church, and leaving it for
events to determine which view of the two a purified Church
will ultimately take.
"Let Mr. Isaac WiUiams," he writes, "if he so please, still pub
lish his opinion that 'human support and human comfort' were
needful to St. Mary after our Lord's ascension, whUe the promise
of the Holy Ghost was the sufficient consolation of His disciples ;
let Dr. Hook continue to call Eoman Catholics Mariolaters ; let Mr.
Wilson exercise his judgment on a Pope's will, and characterise it as
almost worthy of a 'railing' censure; but let others have equal
liberty, and with no greater remonstrance, to honour St. Mary as
the highest and purest of creatures, to regard the Eoman Church
Arith affection and reverence, and to hold a Pope's dogmatic decree
as at least exempt frora our criticism and comment."
Such differences of opinion need not, he holds, interfere
with union in the great Avork. He expresses his adnhration
for the goodness of many of the moderate party.
"Many of them," he says, "are endued with qualities to which
I can lay no sort of claim : ardent and enthusiastic love of God,
intense, self-sacrificing, self-forgetting benevolence to man. ... I
have used language of very considerable respect and deference to
Archdeacon Manning, Mr. Dodsworth, Mr. Heurtley, Dr. Hook, Dr.
Jelf, Mr. Ernest Hawkins, and have in no one instance spoken of
such divines in a different tone ; and so with regard to the other
two writers I just now mentioned ; for Mr. Wilson, though most
slightly acquainted with him, I entertain feelings of extreme regard
and respect ; to Mr. Williams I look up with (I trust) singleminded
love and reverence."
Let us then, he pleads, combine in impressing upon the
Church those habits of religious self-disciphne and that saintly

288 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.

ideal which we agree in reverencing, however much we may
differ as to the fact of its natural opposition to the sphit of
the Eeformation, and union with the sphit of Eome.
"If it be granted," he continues, "that the aiming at such
objects as I have ventured to put forward as desirable implies of
itself no set purpose of ' Eomanising ' our Church, I must beg leave
to doubt whether any single one of her merabers entertains any
such purpose. For as to secret negotiations and understanding
Arith members of that Church, these and similar rumours, to the
best of my own knowledge, are without the very slightest foundation
in fact. And surely, if High Churchmen are slow to co-operate in
the prosecution of objects which on, their own principles are desirable,
from a fear of the direction in which such a course might tend,
they are taking the most efi'ectual way to confirm us in what they
consider our most serious error — our belief, namely, that High
Church principles, honestly carried out on their positive side, must
lead to Eome. If ' High Church ' principles be really substantive
and distinct, what possible danger can there be in heartily and un
grudgingly carrying thera forward to their results ? and if they be
not substantive, who could grieve that this fact should be estab
lished by raeans of a fair trial % For my own part I think it would
not be right to conceal, indeed I am anxious openly to express,
my own most firm and undoubting conviction, that were we as a
church to pursue such a line of conduct as has been here sketched,
in proportion as we did so we should be taught from above to dis
cern and appreciate the plain marks of Divine wisdom and authority
in the Eoman Church, to repent in sorrow and bitterness of heart
our great sin in deserting her communion, and to sue humbly at her
feet for pardon and restoration."
His last words, however, are not on Eome or England or
any technical questions of theological controversy, but on the
great principle which is at the root of aU, and which in his
opinion united all men of good will — viz., "the supremacy of
conscience in the pursuit of moral and rehgious truth." Of
his theory in this matter we have aheady given a sufficient
account. I wiU here cite only the words with which the book
closes. The " most unhappy fact " of the time, " which all
serious men should deplore," he maintains, " as the most fear
ful of God's judgments, is
" That good men and faithful followers of their Saviour dissi
pate their energies in contention Arith each other instead of uniting
them against the social, moral, and religious evils which fiourish in

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 289
such rank luxuriance. Here raust be sought the full reason for
that sort of instinct whereby holy men look at these latter days as
especially degraded ; and the remedy of this evil is the object to
which all who love holiness and peace should direct theh combined
efforts. "That a sustained and rigorous attack on the principles of the
Eeformation is the only course by which this object can be attained
is my deep and certain conviction. But by this I mean, not an
eloquent or argumentative denunciation of the evils of that move
ment, but a far more hopeful procedure, and one in which many
may heartily join who altogether differ in their view of the Eefor
mation as a fact — I mean a humble and religious carrying out of
those great principles which the Eeformation denied, obedience and
faith. Never, within these three centuries, has there been so lively
a counter-movement, at least in England, as there is now. This
movement has nothing to dread from the opposition of those who
fear or dislike it ; many of these, doubtless, are holy and humble
men of heart, whom we may hope to find one day fighting in our
own ranks; but, however that may be, the opposition raised by
adversaries of the truth is, in every age of the Church, most won
derfully overraled to the advance of that truth which they oppose.
But God has imposed on upholders of the truth a fearful responsi
bility ; He has allowed thera the mysterious power of thwarting by
their sin or perverseness His own gracious work.
" This it is alone which the cause of truth among us has at this
moment to fear : if any from the nuraber of those who feel called
to act in its defence should allow themselves to be led away by
plausibility of argument, or by excitement and imagination, from
foUowing the plain and certain dictates of their conscience."

Note. — The following is an account of the Rule of Life in a French
Ecclesiastical Seminary, communicated to Mr. Ward by the Eector
of the Seminary (see p. 279), and cited in the Ideal Arith the object
already explained.
In order to form our candidates forthe priesthood to the holiness necessary to
the state of life for which they aro destined, the Eule prescribes the foUowing
methods : —
I. Vocal prayer at half-past five in the morning. It is short, and proceeds as
follows ; — 1. The student puts himself in the presence of God, by a special act of
faith in the truth of His universal presence, and adores Him. 2. He thanks
God for thc gift of the day thus beginning, aud consecrates to Him all its actions,
promising to do them all in imitation of Him. 3. He recites in the ecclesiastical
language the I'ator Nostor, Ave Maria, and Credo. 4. He commends himself to
the Blessed Vu'gin, to his patron saint, to his guardian angel, that they may
watch over and protect him during the day, aud by their prayers obtain for him
U

290 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap.
the graces of which he has need. The whole concludes with acts of faith, hope,
and charity, of contrition, and renewal of haptismal promises.
II. Mental prayer or a meditation ; in which the student first bows down in
adoration before God, acknowledging himself unworthy of keeping himself fixed
in His divine presence, and calling upon the Holy Spirit to help him in his medi
tation. He then enters on the consideration of the subject proposed for meditation,
all the while frequently entering into himself, hy acts of humiliation, by making
good resolutions, and one special good resolve for that very day. These two exer
cises, the vocal prayer and meditation, last half an hour. In those seminaries
directed by the community of St. Sulpice they last an hour.
III. The holy sacrifice of the Mass. It is offered up immediately after the
meditation. During the first part each one present, by prayers and special
thoughts, offers himself up with our Lord Jesus Christ. At and after the conse
cration each one adores Christ, really present on the altar ; immolates himself
with Him ; and communicates in His sacrifice, either sacramentally, if he has pei--
mission from his confessor, or spiritually.
IV. Holy Scripture. Every one is in the morning to read a chapter of the
Old Testament, and in the evening one of the New. The Rule warns us that the
object to be sought for is the quickening of the heart {vie pour le ccew). It would
be a departure from this object if any one were to read the Scriptures at this time
in order to improve himself in learning or to satisfy his curiosity.
V. Spiritual Reading. This takes place either in the morning or in the
evening. The books recommended are the Imitation, the Spiritual Combat, the
Christian Perfection of Rodriguez, the Memoriale vitce Sacerdotalis, etc.
VI. Examination of conscience. A quarter before twelve all go to the chapel
for the particular examination. This means an examination as to the progress
made iu some virtue specially proposed by each for his own acquisition, or in
conquering some vice proposed in the same way for correction. The book used
in this exercise is Father Tronson's Examens Farticuliers, a work full of profit for
the ecclesiastic. This particular examination does not supersede the general
examination made in the evening, and which includes all the thoughts, feelings,
words, and actions of the day.
VII. Visit to the Holy Sacrament. Each student is bound to go every day
for a quarter of an hour into the presence of the Holy Sacrament. This exercise,
the special joy of the devout soul, consists in adoring our Lord present under the
Eucharistic elements (esp^ces), in thanking Him for the happiness of being in His
holy presence, in begging His pardon for the faults which we have committed, in
asking of Him to grant us the graces of which we have need, and in praying that
He will deign to manifest to us His holy wUl, and lead us on to do it.
VIII. Spiritual Conference. This name is applied to a religious discourse
spoken every evening by the Superior to the whole community, from half-past
six to a quarter to seven. It is a familiar instruction on the duties of a Christian,
and of a clergyman in particular.
IX. The Chapel. After the discourse of the Superior each student recites five
decades {dixaines) of the Pater Noster and Ave Maria. These prayers are sweet
to a Christian's mouth, and never seem long, however often they may be repeated.
Advice is given that at each decade the person reciting the chaplet should think
upon some virtue which he would acquire, and beg of God to grant it to him by
the intercession of the Blessed Virgin.
X. Evening Prayer. This finishes the day. The prayers then said are the
Lord's Prayer, the Angelical Salutation, the Apostles' Creed. The confession ot

XI THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH 291
sin is made by a prayer called the Confiteor ; then acts of faith, hope, and
charity, and of contrition, are made. Prayers are offered up for the dead. In
conclusion, the Superior gives out the subject for next day's meditation. Some
tiraes the choice of it is left to the students. The Rule advises them to foe their
thoughts upon il just before going to sleep amd as soon as they awake.
XI. I had almost forgotten to say that the studies, lectures (classes), and
meals are begun and concluded with prayer. Also in the morning, at mid-day,
and in the evening, the prayer called the Angelus is recited, and this is done to
pay honour to the mysteries of the Annunciation and Incarnation.
XII. Confession. Every student is bound to confess at least once a fortnight.
Few of them wait so long. The object of this confession is, to obtain absolution
and leave to communicate.
XIII. Holy Communion. The Eule does not prescribe Communion, but it
expresses a wish that all should communicate at least every Sunday. The con
fessor, in the secrecy of thc Holy Tribunal, determines how often the Holy Sacra
ment should bo received. He judges by the state of the penitent's soul. In
order to communicate frequently it is requisite that the recipient lead a life of
faith [vie de la foi), and that by his spiritual progress he make it evident that
this heavenly food does him good. For some years past we have had the com
fort of seeing our students communicate some two, others three, four, five, or six
times a week. We are indebted for this consolation to the good state of the
smaller semi/nary, from which our students come to us almost entirely formed.
XIV. The Monitor. Every pupil is bownd to choose one of his fellows for a
morntor. The pupil who agrees to undertake the office is obliged to warn him to
whom he is monitor of all that he sees wrong in him. This advice, given in a
spirit of charity, is commonly of groat benefit.
XV. The Spiritual Director. Every pupil is also obliged to take from among
his masters a director, to whom he from time to time applies to confer with him
on his spiritual state (ses dispositions interieures), on the way to coiTect, im
prove, and perfect it. This laying bare of the heart to the director thus chosen
contributes in an especial way to the spiritual welfare of the students, provided it
is made in u, gi'oat spirit of faith. Generally each pupil makes choice of his
confessor for his director.
XVI. The Eolations with tho Superior. Tho Rule advises tho student to
enter into communication with the Superior, to visit him often in order to receive
his advice, and if need be his private rebuke. This wise provision enables the
Superior to gain a knowledge of tho pupils, to form tliem, and io assure himself
of their vocation. For this reason his door is never shut against them, and
he feels himself called upon to give them all his time. The Superior of a
seminary must thus cease at once to be a man of study. He must give up the
notion of being a learned man, otherwise ho will not be able to do the good which
the diocese expects of him.
XVII. The Eoti'oat. The year commences and finishes with a retreat. The
retreat, which ensues on the meeting of the seminary after the vacation, lasts three
days, exclusive of the day Avhich opens and that which closes it. All these days
ore passed in silence. Each ono then examines his conscience, confesses, makes
plans for the good employment of his time, and prescribes himself with this
object in view a special rule in order to help himself on in the ways of Christian
and olerioal perfection. In some seminai'ies the retreat lasts nine days. The
retreat at the end of tho year is shorter. The object is the good employment of
the vacation.

292 THE IDEAL OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH chap, xi
XVIII. The Vacation. It lasts three months. The Eule makes them long,
less for the sake of giving rest to the students, than in order to give them an
opportunity of trying their faith in the world. During this time their Superiors
are the priests of their respective parishes, who have them in charge, and from
whom they are obliged to bring a certificate to bear witness to their life.
This is what the Rule prescribes ; but all the students add to this a certain
number of little schemes practised by them in private. These consist in frequent
liftings up of the heart to God, little visits to the chapel, spiritual conversations
with their superiors in recreation time, conventional means to recall a sense of
the presence of God. They place on their table for this purpose small crucifixes,
pictures of the Holy Virgin, or of those saints with whose history they are best
acquainted. A number of them agi'ee to pray together, or to give each other
charitable warnings, and these associations have the happiest results.

CHAPTEE XII
CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL"
1844
The Ideal was published in June 1844, and from that date
till the foUowing December no official notice was taken of it
by the University authorities. It was looked on by the more
moderate Tractarians with dismay. It came out at a critical
time. The party had just made a vigorous, but whoUy unsuc
cessful, move to oppose the appointment of the Evangehcal
Warden of Wadham — Mr. B. P. Symons — as Vice-ChanceUor.
The attempt was defeated by the overwhelming majority of
882 to 183. The new Vice-ChanceUor was not Ukely to be the
better disposed towards the Puseyites for their action ; and the
University authorities had not shown hitherto any such careful
discrimination between the extreme and moderate members of
the party, as to prevent their identifying them one and aU with
Mr. Ward's strong statements. The possibility seemed immi
nent — and in the event it was all but realised — of some
measure which would imperil their Avhole existence as a part
of the Estabhshed Church. Personal attachment to the Church,
as the case of Jolm Wesley sixty years earher had shown, was
no final bar to separation from it, when forces were at work
wlhch were totaUy out of harmony with the spirit of existing
Anghcanism. However, for a time the book passed without official notice,
though in private society and in the newspapers and reA-iews it
was much canvassed. The Edinburgh Bevicw eagerly haUed
it as an iUustration of the Developments of Puseyism, which
Mr. Henry Eogers was criticising with such rigour in its

294 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.
pages. Mr. Gladstone attacked it in the Quarterly, and the
lesser magazines foUowed suit. To thinking men of very
opposite schools the book appealed with force, though few
accepted its conclusions as a whole. The conventional
Churchman looked on it simply with horror, as a reckless
and unsettling production. John MUI and Comte were espe
ciaUy interested in it. " Have you seen Ward's book ? " MUI
writes to Mr. Bain. " It is a remarkable book in every way,
and not the least so because it quotes and puffs me in every
chapter, — and Comte occasionally, though with deep lamenta
tions over our irrehgion." Miss Helen Taylor tells me that MUI
often spoke with keen interest of Ward's speculative views.
" His Ideal of a Christian Church," she adds, " was an epoch-
making book to me, as I fancy it was to many now hving."
And again MUI writes to Professor Bain of Mr. Ward's atti
tude towards him : " I always haUed Puseyism and predicted
that thought would sympathise with thought — though I did
not expect to find my own case so striking an example." ^
He wrote to Comte with reference to the Ideal, and the
text of theh correspondence sliaU be given later on. Keble's
appreciation of it will appear when we come to speak
of the pamphlet which he wrote in Mr. Ward's behalf Sir
WUUam HamUton expressed in a letter to Mr. Ward deep
interest in its general line of argument. DoUinger read it
early in the day. " I found him," says Mr. Hope Scott in
September 1844, "already deep in Ward's book, with which
he is much struck."
Newman's interest in its line of argument, or a great part of
it — which was a development of the British Critic articles —
' John Stuart Mill : A Criticism. By A. Bain. Longmans. Pages 69-80.
Mr. Bain gives likewise an interesting account of Mill's attitude towards the
article on his Logic which Ward had contributed to the British Critic a year
earlier. " The first adverse criticism of importance," he writes, " was an article
in the autumn number of the British Critic, of nearly a hundred pages, known to
have been written by Mr. W. G. Ward, the ally of Newman and Pusey. It was
a most remarkable production, and gave Mill very great satisfaction, all things
considered. It was not so much a review of the Logic as of Mill altogether. Mr.
Ward had followed him through his various articles in the London and West
minster, and had mastered his modes of thinking on all the great questions ; and
the present article takes them up along with the Logic. . . . The parts chosen
for attack are the experience -foundations of the mathematical axioms, the
derived view of conscience, and necessity as against free- will."

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 295
has afready been noticed. He had looked forward to the book.
It was, in part, a carrying out of his own suggestion that the
articles should be matured and completed. But it did
not in the event satisfy him. Perhaps he had looked for
greater reserve and moderation of expression than the British
Critic articles showed, in a work of which the fuU responsibUity
was accepted. While Ward was writing it he said to Dal- .
gairns, " The great thing we have to look for now is Ward's
magnum opus" and Dalgairns was anxious to find how far his
hopes were fulfiUed. He found Newman reading it at little
more soon after its appearance. " Well," he said, " what do
you think of it ? " Newman shook his head. " It won't do,"
he said. He further sent a message, which seemed caUed for
frora the fact that he had expressed in print his sympathy with
Ward's line in the British Critic, to the effect that he could
not approve of the latest statement, in the last chapter of the
Ideal, of his theory of the sources of religious knowledge — a
statement which, as we have seen, iraphed that members of the
English Church were at liberty to look upon the existing
Eoman Church as their authorised teacher.
The general feeling among the bulk of the High Church
party and Tractarians, with the exception of Mr. Ward's im
mediate following, — Oakeley, who afterwards identified his cause
with Mr. Ward's and claimed to be included in the censure passed
on the Ideal, and raost of the younger school, Avho accepted the
book almost entirely, — is expressed in the foUowing passage
from a pamphlet by Mr. Gresley, Prebendary of Lichfield : — -
"Most heartily do I Arish that Mr. Ward Avas anyAvhere else
rather than at the University of Oxford at the present time, or that
he had never been so ill-advised as to pubUsh his unhappy hook, or
indeed anything else. With good and upright intentions, Mr. Ward's
writings have been singularly infelicitous. ' The Church was going
on very well Avhen Mr. Ward unhappUy became connected Arith the
Biitish Critic; since which time all has gone Avrong. The peculiar
mischief in Mr. Ward's writings is that he puts forth the most im
portant and valuable truths Avhich, if discreetly stated, might be of
the greatest value to the Church ; but coupling them with such
extravagant statements, such apparent arrogance and scorn of those
Avho differ from him, such misstatements of other persons' riews,
and such an obvious leaning, or rather identification of himself with
the Church of Eome, that an insuperable prejudice is raised against

296 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.

the very improvements he advocates. Never was there such a
mixture of opposites. It raay be questioned whether Mr. Ward's
Eomanising tendencies might not have been passed over unheeded
but for the vehement manner in Avhich he denounces the unholiness,
and imbecility, and latitudinarianism, and various evil attributes
which, whether rightly or not, he thinks he perceives in the present
system of our Church. It is on account of this that the anger of
many persons is concentrated upon him. He has himself contrived
the conductor which is to bring all the electric fluid on his own
bead." On the other hand, it was perhaps difficult for such writers
to reahse, or even to believe, the fact that Mr. Ward had
dehberately intended to "bring all the electric fluid on his
own head." He knew that his book would annoy the High
Churchmen ; he knew that it would annoy Pusey and the
Tractarians ; he knew, or at least thought it probable, that it
would annoy Newman himself and some of the more moderate
of the Eomanisers, as they were caUed. " What the Church
requires is peace," wrote Mr. Gresley. Mr. Ward thought just
the opposite ; or rather, as he would have put it, not a false
peace with a volcano of eruptive matter smouldering beneath ;
but a preliminary eruption which might secure a subsequent and
permanent peace. Certain questions as to the aim of loyal
Churchmen, the dhection in which they should work for ¦ the
reformation of the Church, the lawfulness and desirableness of
this aim and of the measures by which it could be achieved,
seemed to bim burning questions. No unity of action could
be attained untU they had been decided. His conscience
would not aUow him to strive for a different aim, neither
could he feel justified in pursuing it, and in acting on so novel
a theory, Arithout authoritative sanction. His views were gener
aUy known, and he might, it was true, claim that the sUence
of the authorities gave them a tacit sanction. But much of
what he had said was anonymously written, and there were
many who characterised his theories as disloyal and dishonest.
In this state of things there were not the conditions of true
peace. Peace could come only tn one of two ways. If in
riew of the vague and ahnost opposite character of the formu
laries of the English Church taken together, and in riew
likcArise of the Cathohc element she had ever tolerated and
preserved, the Eomanishig party might be aUowed a latitude

xii CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 297
on their side equal to that allowed to the Liberal school on
the opposite side, then they could work with a clear conscience
on the lines laid down in the Ideal ; and the avowed sanction of
the authorities would disarm such opposition as was at present
threatening the Church with internecine struggles. Or again,
if it were authoritatively ruled that such a mode of procedure
was unlawful ; that the Eomanisers were no hving branch of
the English Church but a decayed one ; then they must be cut
off. Secessions to Eome would ensue, the source of present
disputes would be closed, and peace would follow. Authority
must pronounce in one way or another. If it would not speak
unequivocally, it must be challenged so loudly and so plainly as
to leave no loophole for denying that if the challenge remained
unheeded, silence must mean tacit sanction. Thus the most
open and naked statements, the most bold and uncompromising
tone, seemed to Mr. Ward the necessary condition, if he and
those who felt as he did were to retain their position in the
Church of England. The present vague and unsatisfactory
undefined state of things was intolerable to him. He wished
for a definite and intelligible position, and cared comparatively
little which way the decision went.
In October 1844 appeared in the Quarterly Bevicw an
article by Mr. Gladstone, entitled, " Ward's Ideal of a Christian
Church," containing a stringent criticism on the method and the
conclusions of the work, and on Mr. Ward himself, — on the
ground that it ill became a priest of the Church of England to
speak of her, even if he thought of her, in terms so Avanting in
respect. The main points singled out for criticism were Mr.
Ward's attack on the Eeformation, and his theory on the
supremacy of conscience in religious inquiry; and the line of
criticism is in both cases somewhat simUar, the faults of the
book being traced ultimately to habits of mind and inteUectual
characteristics in the writer, which Mr. Gladstone unreservedly
condemns. " His organon is bad," he Avrites ; " Mr. Ward,
strangely bitten, as it seems to us, with the sphit of the age,
and owing far more of his mental culture to Mr. John MUI
than to the whole range of Cliristian dirines, with the exception
of Mr. Newman . . . repudiates [the] world-old phUosophy,
and in its stead he launches upon the great deep of human
controversy as fraU a bark as ever carried sail." With respect

298 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.
to the Eeformation, Mr. Ward had, as Ave have seen, spoken in
terms of unraeasured condemnation. He had done so on what
may be called phUosophical grounds rather than historical.
He considered the sphit breathed by the records and Avritings
of the pre-Eeformation Church far nobler and purer than that
which is in our own day Aritnessed in this land, and he held that
the principles the Eeforraation avowedly introduced were disas
trous. Mr. Gladstone's criticism amounts to this : — that the exact
character of the Eeformers is a matter only to be decided on
historical grounds, and that Mr. Ward's book does not indicate
— does not, indeed, profess to indicate — that careful historical
criticism has been undertaken. Mr. Ward criticised priraarUy
a religious raovement, Arith its witnessed tendencies, and its
inteUectual and moral results. The actual historical records
which he trusted, and the historical views which his argument
presupposed, he accepted on trust, from Newman and Oakeley.
He considered the phUosophical grounds for his view strong,
and accepted an historical view in harmony with it, as usual, on
the authority of competent judges. The tendencies and prin
ciples existed beyond all dispute ; the exact details of theh
introduction were comparatively unimportant in his view. But
this mode of reasoning Mr. Gladstone does not contemplate, and
he views the absence of first-hand historical eridence as the
absence of aU evidence. After quoting Mr. Ward's expressions
of condemnation he writes thus : —
"Here is the verdict deliberately pronounced by Mr. Ward
against the English Eeformation and its authors ; and it amounts
simply to this, that no words which human language will supply
can suflBce to describe their rileness. But where are the grounds of
this verdict ? where are the evidences of patient, laborious, and im
partial examination by which alone such a verdict could be justified,
and without which it cannot be excused ? Mr. Ward vrill remember
the Athenian law by which in certain cases the accuser failing in
his proof forfeited his head. A great moral truth was figured by
that law, — the immense responsibility of those who bring heavy
charges, and in consequence both the great merit of those who
impeach justly and the great guilt of those who accuse falsely. . . .
Every principle, not only of reverence but of propriety, in a much
lower sense, and one tithe of that regard for the sacredness of heredi
tary religion to which in its other bearings he assigns so enormous
an importance, required of him that if he deemed it his duty as a
priest of the Church of England to pronounce the heaviest of all

xii CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 299
judgments on his antecessors and progenitors in the faith, he should
prove that this had been done only in sorroAvful deference to con
science at every step, and not without the grave and dispassionate
examination which his learned leisure at Oxford and his manifest
abilities would have enabled him to institute. But instead of this
he appears tranquUly to assume that the English bishops of the six
teenth century are ecclesiastical outlaws against whom any and
every man's hand is to be raised ; that in order to dispose of theh
claims upon us no process is necessary, no counsel or jury, no judge,
no testimony ; the hangman is the only person whose function is
applicable to their case, and even he cannot fully discharge the
debt due to their demerits."
The article is throughout judicial in its tone, and expresses
appreciation of the " evident sincerity and engaging Avarmth "
with which Mr. Ward disclaims aU arrogation to himself of any
right to stand above the system which he criticises. Further,
he notes what some faUed to note, the complete absence
throughout its strictures of personal criticism or imputing of
motives : —
" Not only are we bound to admit that this book is characterised
in a very pleasing manner by the absence of personal unkindnesses,
but the follies and sins of men are not charged upon them ; they
are transferred bodily to the Church, as if hers Avere the one and
only power that moved the vast machine of EngUsh society. Let,
therefore, full scope be given to all that Mr. Ward has truly said of
our sins, our negligences, our ignorances ; of the slight and per
functory manner in which we discharge the great work of the
government of the conscience; of our deadness to the denunciations
of Scripture concerning the perils of Avealth, and the difficulties it
interposes in the way of salvation ; of our insensibility to the
Christian equality, or (should it not rather be said) the Christian
superiority of the poor; of our narrow and lethargic sense of
Christian brotherhood. Let us combine Avith these repentance and
humiliation for that sin which Mr. Ward has scarcely touched, but
on which Ave think a reasonable reformer would have laid the
greatest stress — namely, our slowness to take advantage of those
means of grace and discipline which the Church actuaUy furnishes ;
our neglect Avhere she invites, and even, alas ! our disobedience
where she commands."
However, he closes this head of his indictment with un
compromising censure : —
" Whether the Eeformation were a blessing or not, whether the
Church of England be incredibly corrupt to the verj' core or not.

30O CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.
whether the Church of Eome be a pure and ideal Church or not,
whether a priest of the Church of England be the proper person to
announce these discoveries or not, it is important, even before all
these things, that the principle should be maintained, that those
who judge Arithout examining in matters of high moral import
should be called to account; and that children — the demand
seems not immoderate — should not strike a parent until they
have heard her"
Proceeding thence to Mr. Ward's general attitude with
respect to the Churches of Eome and England, the concentra
tion of his attention on the exceUencies of the former and on
the defects of the latter, his implication that such a course is
the obA'ious dictate of humUity, and that the customary praise
of the existing Enghsh system was a sign only of undue self-
complacency and blind conceit on the part of English Church
men, he writes thus : —
" Suppose a father perceives that his daughter's affections are
rapidly fastening themselves upon one whom, notwithstanding raany
apparent or even real excellencies, he yet knows to be tainted vrith
such vices as to render him an unfit and dangerous guide through
life, it will be his duty to warn her against the attraction, to expose
Arith an increasing force and plainness, in proportion as the seductive
power may become more formidable, the faults of the party ; and if
she retort upon him that in his house she does not find the extended
sympathy she needs, that his temper is phlegmatic and his acquire
ments limited, it is his duty even so far to extol himself in respect
of his guardianship over her, as to make her feel her security and
comparative blessedness in the house where God has placed her.
Nor is he, acting sedulously and conscientiously vrithin these limits,
to be reproached either with want of charity or with surfeit of
pride. He may feel the dangers to his personal humility of the
duty he is undertaking, but he is bound to persevere and to
believe that, like all dangers which really belong and attach to
duty, they will be neutralised and averted in its discharge."
Mr. Gladstone's last point of attack is Mr. Ward's theory
of the " supremacy of conscience in rehgious inquiry." Against
Mr. Ward's view that those who are obedient to theh con
science, and only such, AviU receive the requisite inteUectual
and sphitual hght for discerning the true and the false in
reUgious matters, Mr. Gladstone maintains that such a theory
is " subjective," and makes the truth " what each man troweth."
He declares that St. Augustine's crede ut intelligas presupposed

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 301
proof of the credentials of the Church, " a matter fuUy cognis
able by the human understanding, but not necessary to be
investigated by each for himself, more than it is requisite for
every British subject to have heard the Queen's assent given
to the laws in order to be bound as a reasonable being to
yield them obedience." But in this criticism he seems to have
overlooked the fact that Mr. Ward's express contention is that
there is no proof of Christianity paraUel to the proof of the Queen's
assent as given to laws; but that the proof of Christianity,
and even of theism itself, is as a fact rejected as inadequate by
men of firstrate ability ; and that the only account of this
must be that these proofs contain elements which can be
detected only by the individual conscience ; a faulty attitude
of mind and a wrong way of approaching the subject, rather
than intellectual stupidity, being in most cases the real reason
why they appear to many unsatisfactory.
Mr. Gladstone's article, so far as it dealt with Mr. Ward
himself, concluded in the foUowing terms : —
" In parting we must assure [Mr. Ward] that if we have written
freely we have written also seriously; with deep pain, and, we
trast, without any gratuitous assumption of judicial authority.
Eeaders more dispassionate than either of us AriU judge between
us. If we are accurate in our vieAV of his methods of proceeding,
what has occurred may, as we hope, be a warning to him, useful in
his future course, however incomplete, however faulty has been the
execution of the task. If, on the contrary, his temper has been
one of becoming caution and humility, if a sound philosophy has
governed his views of men and things, if his investigations have
not been lighter, if his sentences have not been heavier than
the case demanded of him, the censure we have pronounced
wUl return upon ourselves, and it will involve us in a double guilt
to have committed the very faults which Ave have used so much
freedom in reproring."
Mr. Gladstone's article, the authorship of which was an
open secret, told with much effect against the book. " I have
read the article on Ward in the Quarterly," wrote Mr. WaU of
BalUol to Mr. Church of Oriel, " and I think it AviU seriously
damage him. Some parts of it are strong. It is calculated
to increase the indignation against him." Indeed at this stage
scarcely a word was heard in pubhc in Mr. Ward's favour,
though later on it became evident that the frankness and

302 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.
•openness with which he had stated and encountered difficulties
which many felt, and which so many writers shhked, and the
high moral lessons the book contained, had not been without
thefr effect on persons who at the time were sUent.
The correspondence of MUI and Comte on the book may
here be cited. Its frank acceptance of the intellectual diffi
culties in the root doctrines of all supernatural reUgion was
rare, and was naturaUy tn harmony with the intellectual
temper of both phUosophers ; whUe Comte seems to have been
especially pleased at Mr. Ward's elimination of Protestantism
from the field of serious rehgious philosophy, and acceptance
of the position that the real war Avas between Catholicism and
Positivism. MiU writes as foUows, in a letter dated 26 th April
1845:— "... Nous avons obtenu, vous et moi, les honneurs d'une
publicity assez 6clatante par I'intermediare d'un des chefs de
l'6cole Anglo-Catholique, M. Ward, qui fit paraitre, il y a une annde
ou davantage, un assez gros volume dans lequel il peignit en de
trfes noires couleurs I'^tat actuel de I'dglise anglicane, et de la
society anglaise, et se d6clara nettement centre la reformation de
Luther et appella I'Eglise anglicane k rentrer dans le giron du
catholicisme remain. Cet ouvrage fit grand scandale i9i, et
I'universite d'Oxford vient de priver I'auteur de ses grades
universitaires comme ne faisant plus partie, au moins en droit,
de r6glise anglicane. Ce n'est que derniferement que j'ai Iu
son ouvrage, bien que j'eusse entendu qu'il y 6tait question
de moi. " Je me suis trouv6 cit6 dans chaque chapitre et plus souvent
encore, avec d'immenses 61oges entrem^l6s de plaintes sur mon
incredulity et sur la tendance ath6istique de mes 6crits ; il disait,
de plus, avoh Iu la plus grande partie de votre Cours, sur la foi de
ce que j'en disais; il va sans dfre qu'il vous tan9a encore plus
vertement que moi sur votre irr61igion ; cependant il cite plusieurs
passages, U fait I'^loge de votre capacity et mSme de vos intentions;
il dit vous reconnaissez avoir pris bien des choses chez de Maistre,
mais qu'il vous trouve trfes superieur en profondeur k- ce penseur.
Suivant lui, il faut en venir h, notre hr61igion a nous, si on ne
revient pas k la phUosophie cathohque, car il pr6ne la phUosophie
du cathohcisme tout autant que la foi. C'est une chose assez
amusante que nous trourions un appui si decide dans ce camp-1^, et
que M. Ward soit accus6 par ses adversaires dans le Quarterly
Beview d'avoir tir6 plus d'enseignments de mon 6cole que de celle
des th6ologiens anghcans."

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 303
Comte's reply bears the date of 15th May 1845. After
speaking of a work by Dunoyer, he says : —
" Ce n'est pas sans etonnement ni sans plaisir que j'ai Iu vos
interessantes indications sur un autre curieux ouvrage ou je
m'attendrais encore moins que vous a Stre honorablement mention^.
Si vous aviez jamais occasion de rencontrer le docteur Ward, je
vous serais oblig6 de lui faire mes sinceres remerciments personnels,
surtout pour sa speciale comparaison avec de Maistre ; quoique je
sois bien certain d'avoh rendu au Catholicisme une plus complete
justice historique que n'a pu le faire ce celebre penseur.
" M. Ward est certainement le premier philosophe cathohque qui
ose en convenir ouvertement, et U restera probablement le seul, sans
se douter d'ailleurs que la superiority qu'il veut bien me reconnaitre
a cet 6gard, au lieu d'etre essentiellement personelle, tient princi-
palement a I'excellence spontan^e du veritable esprit positif. Quoiqu'
il en soit je desirerais beaucoup que le fatal dilemme propos6 par
ce docteur put se realiser suffisamment, ot que la grande lutte
philosophique s'engagea d^sormais exclusiveraent, corarae je I'ai
deraandd de mon cot6 depuis longtemps, entre le cathohcisme et le
positivisme, en eliminant d'un commun accord la metaphysique
• protestante ou d6iste, dans ses innombrables nuances, Guizot,
Cousin, Dupin, Thiers, etc. etc.
" Au ddbut de ma carri6re philosophique, j'ai d6j^ et6 honor6
d'un pared conflit, lorsque je fus, en 1825, jugd a peu pies comme
M. Ward vient de la faire, par le trop fameux abb6 de La Mennais
qui etait alors a son veritable 6tat normale, en tant que pure et
energique chef de la franche retrogradation catholique; j'aurais
bien voulu que le combat put se suivre ainsi; mais j'en ai reconnu
depuis rimpossibilit6, d'apres le peu de suite et de nettot6 propre
aux esprits actuels. Vous voyez comme a fini cet Eminent
antagoniste, a cot6 duquel je me suis trouv6, il y a dix ans, dans
une occasion assez caract(5ristique, oblig6 de voir, sans avoir
moim^me nuUement chang6, une sorte d'alli6 honteux dans celui
qui ra'avait d'abord sembl6 un estimable adversaire. Avec le
d6cousu logique de notre temps il ne sera pas impossible que votre
nouveau catholique 6prouvfi,t, et plus prompteraent peut-etre, une
semblable d6g6n6ration que je suis loin de lui souhaiter."
In the course of the October term it was whispered that
mischief was brevdng, and that the Heads were devising a
scheme of repression against the author of the obnoxious book.
What the exact measures Avere to be it Avas not known. " It
Avas kept a profound secret," writes Dean Stanley, " during
three long autumnal months, and the secret was only broken
by one of those extraordinary incidents which occur now and

304 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL"

» then in fiction, but rarely in actual life. The documents (con
taining the proposed measures) haring been sent to London
for a legal opinion, were diverted from their proper destination
in the post-office at Oxford, and inserted in a parcel of coUege
leases addressed to one of the most enthusiastic foUowers
of Dr. Newman and Mr. Ward. [This was Mr. Bloxam of
Magdalene.] The secret thus disclosed was in honour kept
by the astonished recipient ; but it was not in human nature
but that particles of the information thus unexpectedly acquhed
should leak out in answer to perpetual inqufries." Mr. Ward
was therefore not wholly unprepared, when at the end of
November he was summoned before the Vice-ChanceUor and
Hebdomadal Board, and confronted with a selection of six of
the most starthng and extreme passages from the Ideal, some
of which I have already quoted in the analysis of that work,
and asked if he wished to disavow the sentiments therein con
tained. Mr. Ward asked for three days' grace, in order that
he might consult his friends and laAvyer before committing
himseU to any statement ; and on appearing before the same
tribunal for a second time on December 3d, refused, under
legal adrice, to make any statements whatever until the course
of action on which the Heads had resolved should be openly
avowed. Ten days later all doubt was set at rest, and the Vice-
ChanceUor published a notice containing the details of the in
tended proceedings. The six incriminating passages from the
Ideal were given in fuU, and said to be inconsistent with the
Articles, and with the good faith of Wilham George Ward in sub
scribing them; and it was proposed, in a convocation to be held on
February 13 th foUoiring, to pass a resolution to this effect. In
the event of this resolution passing, a second one was to foUow
depriving him of his degrees ; whUe a third measure consisted
of a test " by which it was asserted that the Articles for the
future must be accepted, not according to the subtle explana
tions of the nineteenth century, but according to the rigid
definitions of the sixteenth. It laid doAvn that whenever
subscribed at the University of Oxford they must be accepted
in that sense in which they had been originally uttered, and in
which the University imposed them." ^
' Stanley. Edinburgh Review, April 1881, p. 320.

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 305
On the day succeeding the promiUgation of this notice
(December 14) Mr. Ward published a letter to the Vice-
ChanceUor, in which he avowed himself the author of the
book, and accepted the full responsibUity of the opinions in
the incriminating extracts.
Mr. Ward's first letter to the Vice-ChanceUor was couched
in the following terms : — Balliol Collese, Zd December 1844.
" Me. Vice-Chancellor — False impressions seem to have gone
abroad as to what passed on Saturday, when I appeared before you
on the subject of a work entitled The Ideal of a Christian Church
Considered, etc., which bears mj name on its title-page; and as im
pressions equally false may possibly prevail in respect to the pro
ceedings of this day on the same subject, it seeras the simple and
right course to address you thus publicly at once.
" I was summoned on Saturday, not as before a tribunal which
claimed the power of authoritatively putting questions, but merely
that I might have the opportunity, if 1 so Avished, of disavoAving
certain opinions, previously to the Hebdomadal Board proceeding
further against me. The questions I was asked accordingly Avere
these : — (1) Whether I wished to disavoAv the authorship of the
above-mentioned work ; (2) whether I wished to disavow the senti
ments contained in certain propositions, selected from it, Avhich
were then read to me. My answer Avas, that in a matter so import
ant to myself, I wished to take no step Avliatever Avithout the
advantage of consulting with my friends, and taking, if necessary,
legal advice ; accordingly I asked to postpone my ansAver until to
day. You replied that nothing could be raore reasonable than such
a request, and kindly suggested that even a later da}- might be pre
ferable ; an offer, however, of Avhich I did not Avish to avail myself.
" On appearing before you to-day, I stated that, acting under legal
advice, I must decline ansAvering any questions Avhatever, until I
should know more definitely the course which it was intended to
adopt against me.
"From this statement it will appear, I think, that I have adopted
no unworthy subterfuge, but rather jiroceeded on the acknowledged
principles of justice. Whenever I am authoritatively informed of
the whole method of proceeding which it is intended to pursue
against me, there shall be no Av.ant of perfect openness on my side
also ; but nothing surely could be more unreasonable than to expect
that, so long as strict secrecy is preserved on that head, I should
volunteer any statement, however unimportant, or make any admis
sion, however apparently insignificant.
" I should not do justice to my oavu feelings if I did not conclude
by expressing my strong sense of the courtesy Avith Avhich I Avas
X

3o6 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.
treated on each occasion of appearing before you. — I remain, Mr.
Vice-Chancellor, your faithful servant, W. G. Ward."
The following is the text of the notice pubhshed by the
Vice-Chancellor : —
"Whereas it is notoriously reputed and believed throughout
the University that a book entitled The Ideal of a Christian Church
Considered has been recently published in Oxford by the Eev.
William George Ward, M.A., in which book are contained the fol
lowing passages, viz. —
"p. 45 (note) — 'I know no single moveraent in the Church,
except Arianism in the fourth century, which seems to rae so wholly
destitute of all claims on our sympathy and regard as the English
Eeformation.' "p. 473 — 'For my own part I think it would not be right to
conceal, indeed I am anxious openly to express, my own most firm
and undoubting conviction — that were we, as a Church, to pursue
such a line of conduct as has been here sketched, in proportion as
we did so, we should be taught from above to discern and appre
ciate the plain marks of Divine wisdom and authority in the Eoman
Church, to repent in sorrow and bitterness of heart our great sin
in deserting her communion, and to sue humbly at her feet for
pardon and restoration.'
"p. 68 — ' That the phrase, "teaching of the Prayer Book," con
veys a definite and important meaning, I do not deny ; considering
that it is mainly a selection from the Breviary, it is not surprising
that the Prayer Book should, on the whole, breathe an uniform,
most edifying, deeply orthodox, spirit ; a spirit which corresponds
to one particular body of doctrine, and not to its contradictory.
Again, that the phrase " teaching of the Articles " conveys a definite
meaning, I cannot deny ; for (excepting the five first, which belong
to the old theology) they also breathe an uniform intelligible spirit.
But then these respective spirits are not different merely, but
absolutely contradictory. As well could a student in the heathen
schools have imbibed at once the Stoic and Epicurean philosophies,
as could a humble member of our Church at the present time learn
his creed both from Prayer Book and Articles. This I set out at
length in two pamphlets with an appendix, which I published three
years ago ; and it cannot, therefore, be necessary to go again over
the same ground ; though something must be added, occasionally in
notes, and more methodically in a future chapter. The manner in
which the dry wording of the Articles can be divorced from their
natural spirit, and accepted by an orthodox believer; how their
primd facie meaning is evaded, and the artifice of their inventors
throAvn back in recoil on themselves ; this, and the arguments

xii CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 307
which prove the honesty of this, have now been for some time before
the public'
"p. 100 (note) — ' In my pamphlet three years since, I distinctly
charged the Eeformers with fully tolerating the absence from the
Articles of any real anti-Eoman determination, so only they were
allowed to preserve an apparent one : a charge which I here beg as
distinctly to repeat.'
"p. 479 — ' Our twelfth Article is as plain as words can make it,
on the " evangelical " side (observe in particular the word " neces
sarily ") ; of course I think its natural meaning may be explained
away, for I subscribe it myself in a non-natural sense.'
"p. 565 — 'We find, oh most joyful, most wonderful, raost
unexpected sight, we find the whole cycle of Eoman doctrine
gradually possessing numbers of English Churchmen.'
"p. 667 — 'Three years have passed since I said plainly that in
subscribing the Articles I renounce no one Eoman doctrine.'
" And whereas the said WiUiara George Ward before the pub
lication of the said book was admitted to the respective degrees
of B.A. and M.A. of this University on the faith of the foUoAring
declaration, which declaration was made and subscribed by him
before and in order to his being admitted to each of the said
degrees, that is to say : — ' I allow the Book of Articles agreed upon
by the Archbishops and Bishops of both prorinces, and the whole
clergy in the Convocation holden at London in the year of our Lord
one thousand five hundred and sixty-two; and I acknowledge aU and
every of the Articles therein contained, being in number nine and
thirty, besides the ratification, to be agreeable to the Word of God.'
" And whereas the said passages of the said book appear in
consistent with the said Articles, and with the said declaration,
and with the good faith of him, the said William George ^\'ard, in
making and subscribing the same.
" In a Convocation to be holden on Thursday the 13th day of
February next, at one o'clock, the foregoing passages from the said
book will be read, and the foUoAring Proposition will be submitted
to the House : —
" ' That the passages now read from the book entitled Tlie Ideal
of a Christian Chwrch Considered, are utterly inconsistent
with the Articles of Eeligion of the Church of England, and
Arith the declaration in respect of those Articles made and
subscribed by WUliam George Ward preriously and in order
to his being admitted to the degrees of B.A and M.A.
respectively, and with the good faith of him, the said WUUam
George Ward, in respect of such declaration and subscription.'
"Before the question 'Placetne,' etc., is put, the Vice-ChanceUor
wUl give Mr. Ward an opportunity of answering to the charge of
haying published such passages so inconsistent as aforesaid.

3o8 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL'

" If this Proposition is aflBrmed, the foUowing Proposition will
be submitted to the House : —
" ' That the said WUliam George Ward has disentitied himself to
the rights and pririleges conveyed by the said degrees, and
is hereby degraded from the said degrees of B.A. and M.A.
respectively.'
" Before the question ' Placetne^ etc., is put, the Vice-Chancellor
AriU give Mr. Ward an opportunity of stating any grounds hc may
have for showing that he should not be degraded."
Then foUows the Latin text of the proposed test, which is
given in fiUl in the Appendix.^
The following is the text of Mr. Ward's second letter to
the Vice-Chancellor : — "Balliol College, \Uh December 1844.
"Mr. Vice-Chancellor — I consider it due, both to you and
to myself, that I should here place on record my reasons for declin
ing (as under advice I did) to answer the questions which you lately
put to me ; and if I speak with great plainness on the subject (as
my position seems to require), 1 trust you wiU not consider me as
deficient in sincere personal respect for yourself, or in a desire to
show all becoming deference to the ofiice which you fill. I should
not have taken the course I did on Tuesday, December 3d, but for
the interpretation placed upon one important Statute of the Uni
versity in the recent case of Dr. Pusey. It was held in that case
by the late Vice-Chancellor (with the concurrence, as I presume, of
those who assisted him), that in an Academical proceeding against
a preacher accused of unsound doctrine, it was not necessary or
convenient to follow the ordinary forms of justice ; and particularly,
that the person accused was not entitled to be heard before his
judges in his own defence. Assuming (as 1 was bound to assume)
that those who adopted such a course of proceeding believed them
selves to be justified in doing so, I could not look upon it as im
probable that a similar course might be adopted in my own case
also. 1 had, however, one security against it, which was this —
that no such proceeding could possibly be taken Arithout a preh-
minary establishment of the fact of authorship, which in Dr. Pusey's
case was admitted : and, without my voluntary admission, this obstacle
to such a course of proceeding could not be removed, since evidence
taken in my absence would be equivalent to no evidence at all.
" The question then arose, in regard to the chaUenge which, in
my work, I had so confidently thrown out to those who might
think my positions open to authoritative censure, — whether I were
bound by that challenge to relinquish this security for the fairness
' See Appendix H.

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 309
and regularity of the proceedings which might be taken against me,
and to facilitate, by preliminary admissions, any and every mode of
action by which it might be thought practicable to procure my con
demnation. Or was I not rather bound (by the responsibility, which
I had taken upon myself, of vindicating the Uberty of those who
subscribe to our formularies to hold the positions I had advanced)
to reserve all such admissions till another stage ? to wait until it
should be apparent that I should be allowed the right of self-defence,
and that the appeal would be made to law and justice, responsibly
administered, and not to a supposed summary, secret, and irre
sponsible power ? I differed, most conscientiously (and my advisers
authorised me to differ), from every interpretation of the Statutes
Avhich supposed such an authority as this to exist in the University,
at all events as against any who had attained the degree of MA.
I believed that it was the duty of every member of the University
to protest against and oppose the assumption of it: certainly 1
could not conceive myself to be bound to invite or assist its inter
position in ray own case or in that of any other man. The action
of such a power might have placed me personaUy in a situation of
distress and difliculty, but it could not have advanced in the least
degree the settlement of those questions, Avhich I had chaUenged
my opponents to bring to a judicial issue. Its censures would have
been, in my view (as in the view of my adrisers), not less extra^
judicial than those of any private individual. For these reasons,
I thought it proper to withhold a formal admission of the authorship
of my work, until I should be acquainted with the use intended to
be made of that admission, and the whole course of proceeding Avhich
it might be proposed to adopt against me ; using this technical ad
vantage as my safeguard against the adoption of a process Avhich
was not unprecedented, which I did not believe to be legitimate, and
hy which I should have been excluded from the right of self-defence.
" I now make the admission, because the intended mode of pro
ceeding has been disclosed ; and it appeal's to be one which avUI at
least give rae the opportunity of defending myself before those who
are to be my judges. I am not conceding that the proposed appeal
to Convocation gives me the opportunity of obtaining that calm,
deliberate, and dispassionate consideration of my arguments, to
which in strict equity I am entitled ; but still I ara informed of the
charge brought against me, and I have practically the power of
pleading my cause before those who are to be my judges. And
this course I intend at once to take. I am actively preparing a
pamphlet, the object of which avUI be to enforce the position (which
I most confidently believe to be unassailable), that ray subscription
to our formularies is as perfectly consistent Arith good faith as the
subscription of any member of our Church. And I am most anxious
to join issue solely on the merits of the case. If Convocation has

310 CONSEQUENCES OF THE ''IDEAL" chap.
authority, by the constitution of the University, to deprive a Master
of Arts of his degrees for entertaining the sentiments expressed in
my book, I desire to interpose no obstacle upon any question of
form. Whereas, then, I apprehend that it is no less necessary for
Convocation, than for any legal tribunal, to have before it some
regular proof of the facts upon which a penal raeasure against any
meraber of the University is proposed to be founded, my purpose
in writing this letter is to supply that proof. But, in doing so, of
course, I reserve to myseff the right of taking, at the proper time,
and in the proper place, all objections which may exist to the exer
cise of such an authority by Convocation.
" I avow myself, then, the author of the work entitled The Ideal
of a Christian Church Considered, and I most fully take on myself
the responsibility of the passages selected from that Avork for the
judgment of Convocation, as expressing sentiments which had by
no means " been taken up hastily and at random, but which had
long been entertained by me, and of which my conviction grows
more firm and undoubting every day I live. — I reraain, Mr. Vice-
Chancellor, your faithful servant, W. G. Ward."
The excitement produced by the proposed measures is
described by contemporary writers as tremendous. Few
indeed sympathised Arith Mr. Ward's book, and perhaps com
paratively few would have objected strongly to a general vote
of censure on his extreme opinions. But the proposed pro
ceedings were so precise in their character and so far-reaching
in thefr consequences — extending obriously to the large bulk
of the High Church party, and by direct consequence to the
whole of the Liberal party — that the matter became no longer
personal to Mr. Ward, but vital to the constitution of the
Church. The University was ostracising half its most pro
mising sons. The Liberal party could as httle accept the dog
matic clauses of the test as the High Church party. Then there
was a further difficulty. The present sense of the University
— if interpreted by its Heads — was undoubtedly — as far as
could be ascertained — Low Church.^ Was this identical Arith
the sense of the framers, as it professed to be ? The test was
either tyrannous or self-contradictory. And it raised questions
1 I use this term— the meaning of which has gone through several different
phases— to denote opposition to the doctrines of the then High Church party as
a body. The school of Mr. Palmer and Dr. Hook, it will be remembered, accepted
Tract 90. The old "High and dry" Churchmen made common cause with its
opponents, and their views on the points in question were more nearly "Low"
than "High."

xii CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 311
which might be decided by stiU higher tribunals, and which
might result in a general schism. What tf the Ecclesiastical
Courts were to take the matter up and impose as obUgatory
a Low Church interpretation of the Articles in the case
of candidates for holy orders ? Pressing and critical ques
tions were laid bare, and it was difficult to prophesy what
results might not ensue. This suffices to account for an
excitement which extended far beyond Academic chcles, which
was felt almost as much in London as in Oxford, which brought
up for the meeting of Convocation which was to decide upon
the proposed measures an almost unprecedented crowd, in
cluding prominent statesmen, lawyers, philanthropists, as well
as dignitaries and clergymen of the Church of England.
"From most of Dr. Newman's adherents," writes Dean Stanley,
" a cry of anguish went up against [the proposed measures] ; but
another opposition of a different spirit arose from a section of the
clergy and the community, who were indignant at this attempt by
a strict definition of subscription to abridge the liberties of the
English Church. This was the Liberal party of the Church of
England — a party which from the days of Lord Falkland had never
been extinct, . . . but which made themselves heard on this occa
sion by those who under the influence of Arnold had become firmly
possessed of the idea of the latitude intended and required by a
National Church. One who has since been raised to the highest
post in that Church [Archbishop Tait] . . . generously put aside
his former objections to the celebrated Tract, and issued a powerful
and convincing protest against the danger of enforcing this new
test on the whole Church of England. Mr. Maurice, forgiring all
the obloquy with which he had been loaded by the High Church
party, came forward at the same time. Professor Donkin, the most
serene unimpassioned intellect of Oxford, whose untimely death
the Liberal ranks have never ceased to deplore, Avrote a short and
trenchant pamphlet on the subject. Mr. Hull, the venerable oppo
nent of the Athanasian creed, became the champion of the pajty
now placed in so much danger of being themselves the victims of a
popular clamour. . . . Milman, from his retreat in the cloisters of
Westminster, loudly protested against the impolicy of the whole
proceeding." WhUe the plea of general toleration was thus rigorously
put forAvard by the Liberals, the Puseyites themseh'^es were at
first less active. Nevnnan himself kept enthely aloof from
the struggle, though later on an attempt was made, as we
shaU see, on the part of the authorities to drag him into the

312 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL'

arena. Pusey made no sign. But Keble Avrote against Mr.
Ward's condemnation, though by no raeans accepting the sub
stance of the Ideal, and wrote in terms which brought a con
siderable accession of weight to Mr. Ward's cause. Moberly,
too, was one of the Churchmen who joined in the protest of
the Liberal party, and Oakeley published a paraphlet in his
friend's behalf
Of these pubUcations four call for detaUed notice — namely,
the letter addressed to the Vice-Chancellor on the subject by
Dr. Tait, then head-master of Eugby ; the letter to Dr. Jenkyns,
master of Balhol, by Dr. Moberly, afterwards Bishop of Sahs
bury ; the pamphlet by Keble — the most weighty of all the
protests on Ward's behalf ; and two letters by Frederic Denison
Maurice to a friend.
The first-named of these approved in part of the proceed
ings against Mr. Ward personally, but condemned the test and
warmly rindicated Ward's " good faith," which Avas impugned in
the statement of the Vice-Chancellor and Hebdomadal Board.
The upshot of the letter was that the proposed test laid down a
principle which would make matters go hard not only with Ward
and the Newmanites, but with many other schools of thought
rightly recognised as holding a place in the Established Church.
This was, of course, exactly what Ward had maintained.
" My subscription," he had said, " is as honest as that of others."
He had asked for some principle to be laid down on which his
subscription could be proved dishonest, and the proposed
principle proved the same thing in the case of others. Tait,
however, took this into consideration and maintained that it
was a question of degree. A certain latitude of interpretation
should be aUowed, but Ward's " non-natural sense " exceeded
due limits. " The question wUl immediately arise," he wrote,
"tf this hberty be claimed by so many already, who are
honestly included Arithin the Church of England, why is Mr.
Ward to be blamed? The answer is obrious; hberty may
degenerate into Ucense, and in his case it has done so. He has
raised the standard of rebeUion against the Church whose
minister he is. I beheve there is scarcely any fafr man,
whatever be the degree of hberty which he wishes to see
tolerated hi the Church of England, who can think it right to
invest a man Arith authority as one of its recognised teachers

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 313
whose open avowals prove that he wUl use aU his influence
within its pale in destroying its whole character as a Eeformed
Church. If any M.A. becoming a Socinian were to proclaim
that he had signed the Articles in a non-natural sense, holding
them only so far forth as they are consistent with enUghtened
human reason, the authorities of the University would be right
to remind him that he had gone beyond the bounds of aU due
Uberty, and to deprive him of the authority to teach, which he
received on the distinct understanding of his renouncing
Socinian error. The same holds with Mr. Ward, who has re
ceived his commission as an authorised teacher on condition of
his renouncing Eomish error. But let the University deal
with each of such cases as it arises. There is no need of our
narrowing the liraits of the Church of England, because some
amongst us wish to make them too' wide."
The letter attempted to lay down no principle at aU, and
as Mr. Ward's book had simply dealt with the principle of the
matter, the two were, so far as argument Avent, at cross
purposes. And as to the practical view of the matter, strange
as it may seem, Mr. Ward strongly sympathised with the
advocates of his own condemnation, though he considered their
course logically indefensible, simply because the Anglican
establishment was in itself hopelessly illogical. Those to
whom the Protestant character of the English Chui'cli Avas dear,
ought, he consideied, to regard him as a dangerous man Avliose
influence should be checked. Tait showed his knoAvledge of
this side of Ward's view of the question in the course of the
following passage in his letter —
" Holding Mr. Ward to be a Eoman Catholic in everything but
the name, however much I may esteem hhn as an individual, I
cannot disapprove of the punishment Arith which it is now proposed
to visit him. I would not, of course, be understood to speak as if
it were just and proper to pledge oneself to vote for his con
demnation, before the accused has made that defence Avhich it is
proposed to allow him on the 13th of February; but, according to
the pimd facie view of the case as it now stands before us, I must
consider that the most vital interests of the Church of England
require some distinct announcement on the part of the University,
to mark that the misinterpretation of the Articles which he advocates
is inconsistent with his position as one of its authorised teachers.
And unless I much mistake the character of Mr. Ward himself, after

^-

314 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL"

an intimate acquaintance Arith hira for above ten years, I ara sure
that he AriU look with very great contempt upon the Protestantism
of any who are not ready to urge the necessity of his challenge
being accepted, and his teaching condemned. . . .
" Those who know Mr. Ward, and the boldness and straight
forwardness of his character, will not doubt that, as he felt uneasy
in the idea of holding his present opinions without openly pro
claiming them, when he Avrote his book it was in the full hope that
his challenge would be answered, and the question finally settled by
competent authority, whether or not a clergyman of the Established
Church, and (as a graduate) an authorised teacher in one of the
Universities, is entitled to retain all the authority and influence
which his double position gives him, while he glories that he rejects
no one doctrine of the Church of Eome. And as the Bishops of
our Church seemed unwilling to move in the case, the thanks of the
community are due to the Heads of Houses in Oxford for taking upon
themselves the odium and trouble of this most painful conflict."
The consequences anticipated from the degradation, if
passed, are thus sketched in a note at the end of the letter : —
" If, from any prorision in the statutes of Balliol College, Mr.
Ward were to lose his Fellowship in consequence of his proposed
degradation, he would, of course, have an action at law against the
University for depriving him of a pecuniary benefit ; and the
question would at last be finally settled by a competent judicial
authority, Avhether or not a clergyman of the Church of England is
entitled to retain his emoluments as its minister, without renouncing
any one Eomish doctrine.
"If, on the contrary, Mr. Ward still continues to be Fellow of
Balliol, he vrill, by the act of Convocation, be placed in statu
pupillari, and therefore become amenable to the discipline exercised
over persons in that condition. He may, therefore, at any time, by
the authorities of his College, or of the University, be required to
discontinue his residence in Oxford for an indefinite length of time ;
and thus an important college will be saved from the strange
anomaly of having one of its ablest and most infiuential resident
Fellows availing himself of his position within its walls, for indoctrin
ating those who come within his sphere Arith the principles of Eome.
" It may be said that Mr. Ward does not teach, but only believes
in the doctrines of Eome. But any one who knows the manliness
and straightforwardness of his character wUl at once acknowledge
that it is physically impossible for him strongly to believe any set
of opinions and not give utterance to them."
Dr. Moberly wrote to the Master of Balhol, strongly pro
testing against each and aU of the measures.

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE '-IDEAL" 315
" The propositions," he Avrote, " are in themselves so great, they
involve such large general principles, and such extreme particular
penalties, that I apprehend they will call every member of
Convocation to Oxford. . . . This interest I share Arith many.
But it is rather as a BaUiol man, as one not wholly unconnected
with Mr. Ward's early life, and deeply interested in the proposed
degradation of a brother Fellow, whom I myself examined and
helped to elect to his Fellowship, that I am induced to break sUence
on this occasion. I am now called upon Arith the rest of the
University to strip him of those honourable characters Arith which
I thus had a part in investing him. . . .
" Feeling then, as I do, the most utter repugnance to the proposed
Declaration, and a strong conviction that the proposed degradation
is neither a just and legal, nor a wise and necessary measure, I
venture to request the attention of yourself (as the immediate
University superior and therefore protector of Mr. Ward and all
other members of your college, and as a member of the board of
Heads of Houses), and through you that of others, to a few con
siderations on these two points."
After calling attention to the vagueness and unsatisfactory
nature of the wording of the proposed declaration, the writer
proceeded to enter the foUowing strong protest against the
charge of bad faith against Mr. Ward.
" We are next called upon to decree that these same passages
. . . are ' inconsistent with the good faith of hira, the said W. G.
Ward.' It is a heavy and serious thing to pronounce by a judicial
decree against a man's personal honesty. I am ready to condemn
these passages or the book at large upon clear and inteUigible grounds.
I know enough of it to know it to be a dangerous book ; but the
University must pardon me, I know Mr. Ward too; and I knoAv hini
to be a man of the most thorough and upright integrity. I will not
and cannot be a party to a sentence Avhich goes out of its way to
declare that he is not an honest man.
" I appeal to you, my dear sir, strongly as you oppose the
opinions which Mr. Ward has declared on many points, to testify to
his character. I Avould ask you in face of the University AA'hether
he is not a man to whose hearty, thorough, self-abandoning honesty,
you can bear the fullest and most cordial Avitness. I ask this
because of the hundreds who will fiood to Oxford on the 13th of
February there are among thera fcAV who know this gentleman;
many who are strongly prepossessed against him. Let them at least
knoAv, upon the testimony of his very adversaries, what sort of man
he is on whose character they are called upon to pronounce so
heavy a censure.

3i6 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.
"Nay, does not every page of this unhappy book declare the
writer's uprightness and noble elevation of moral conscientiousness !
What class of man in our Church may not read in that book the
raost awakening lessons of personal holiness and Church duty ?
. . . Does he not challenge (ringing as it were Avith the point of his
spear his adversaries' shield, like one bent on mortal combat) resist
ance, reply, refutation, and if need be deprivation and ejection ?
Condemn him, then, ff he deserves it and the interests of the Univer
sity imperativel}'- demand it ; but hesitate to do what no judicial
sentence ever does except by implication, what is beside the present
purpose, and what I venture to pronounce not less unjust and un
founded than many of his own charges, — hesitate, I say, to decree
that he is personally dishonest in his subscription to the Articles."
A yet more important and much more influential pamphlet
on Mr. Ward's behalf proceeded from the pen of Keble, the
revered author of the Christian Year. If Tait's letter derived
additional interest from his personal friendship for Ward,
Keble's pamphlet was perhaps all the more remarkable from
the fact that he was personaUy unacquainted with him. In
many cases the exaggerated expressions tn the Ideal — which
were in part a mannerism of the author — had prevented those
who were not personally acquainted with him from doing
justice to its hne of argument, and from seeing that there was
in it a cogent and temperate undercurrent of reasoning, which
might be accepted even by those to whom the strength of
invective and accentuated or, as they would have said,
exaggerated expressions of opinion as to facts and persons was
repugnant. This, however, Keble discerned, and he also
saw the intense earnestness and love of hohness which actuated
the author. Keble questioned the expediency of the whole proceeding,
and adopted to the full Ward's argument of tu qvMgue, as it was
called, against those of other parties whose non-natural sub
scription was tolerated — at least in the case of extreme lati
tudinarian opinions. " It seems highly scandalous," he Avrote,
" that any degree of what is caUed Eomanising should be visited
more severely than heretical statements affecting the founda
tions of the Faith, the Trinity, and Incarnation ; " he took up
the contradictories of Ward's condemned propositions, and
showed that very many could not maintain them whose
sincerity in subscribing was unquestioned; and further he

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 3«7
questioned, even apart from its advisabUity or its logical con
sistency, the legahty of the whole proceeding. One sentence
deserves to be quoted, as having especial interest in the hght
of subsequent events. Those who deplore the prevalence of
free thought in the Oxford of our own day now vriU see true
insight in the thought which underhes the foUoAring reflection
made by John Keble forty -five years ago. "There has
notoriously," he wrote, " been for some time a school of Oxford
diAdnes, maintaining, to speak plainly, Sabelhan opinions. Why
bas no censure upon them been proposed ? The only excuse
which suggests itself is, their being supposed few and httle
likely to spread. / wish the supposition were correct."
As to the charge of bad faith, he wrote as foUows : —
" No person who knows Mr. Ward believes him at aU likely to
be guilty of conscious and deliberate dishonesty : the mistake which
his friends and acquaintances of all parties seem rather to dread on
his part is what may be called excess of frankness : as though he
thought it necessary to state his opinions at every possible dis
advantage, and to shock as many persons as he can, lest he should
seem hereafter to have beguiled them."
The most forcible part of Keble's argument against the
lawfulness of the whole proceeding is contained in the following

" If Mr. Ward's offence as it stands in the charge, supposing it
proved and afiirmed, is to subject him to this punishment (depriva
tion of his degrees), either our present statutes must point it out, or
we raust make a new statute for the purpose, or we must inflict it
Avithout authority of any statute. Now, first, it is not pretended
that any existing statute imposes this punishment for this offence.
In the next place (setting aside the odiousness of an ex post facto
law of punishment), it is enough to say that the present proceeding
does not affect to make a new statute. For the Hebdomadal Board
and the House of Convocation are not alone competent to make a
new statute. Lastly, it would seem hardly maintainable that Con
vocation has a discretionary power of punishing to the extent of
degradation in cases not provided for by statute. If it has, Ave live
under this strange condition : that Avhatever the majority may vote
to be a crime becomes so, and being so, the same majority may vote
it punishable by the loss of a degi'ee. This would be a new Idnd of
law, I believe, for any other corporation. It surely behoves us all,
of Avhatevor party, to consider Avell before Ave lend our help to
introduce it among om'selves. Even if the sentence were legal.

3i8 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.
there are circumstances attending this punishment of degradation
which would raake us all raost unwilling to infiict it except in very
extreme cases of deliberate moral guilt."
He concludes vrith the foUowing testimony to the value of
the work, which was aU the more remarkable as coming from
one who, to use Mr. Oakeley's words in referring to it, was
" apt, if any, to measure each word he utters ; who speaks the
more forcibly in proportion as he speaks less often, and whose
sayings, so calm, deep, and comprehensive, strike on many
ears in these tumultuous days with almost the force of
oracular intimations."
" I have not felt at liberty to dwell here on the positive merits
of the author of the Ideal towards the Church of England, and raany
perplexed consciences within her, in respect both of large portions
of that work and of some former and more elementary publications ;
although for both (amid serious disagreement from some of his
principles, if I understand them rightly) I cannot but feel deeply
grateful. Of course to such as sympathise in this feeling, and
appreciate also the many noble traits of character Avhich Mr. Ward's
Avritings disclose, it must be simply impossible to find him guilty of
' bad faith,' or to think of his being degraded without a deep sense
of Avrong and dread of retribution."
One more writer of name and importance, who attempted
to shield Mr. Ward frora the wrath of the Heads, must be
quoted, and his opinion referred to in some detail Frederick
Denison Maurice, in two letters addressed to a friend, the first
dated 21st January, the second 9th February, protested in the
strongest terms against the proposed condemnation and de
gradation. " I do most solemnly and passionately implore
you," he wrote, " not to be tempted by your indignation at Mr.
Ward's language to join those who are entering upon the most
mischievous course, it seeras to me, which the worst enemy
of the Church and University could invent or desire for
them." The proposed test seemed to hira full of difficulties for all
parties. It was one thing to say that an honest subscription
to the Articles could not be compatible with the holding of all
Eoman doctrines, against which the Eeformation was a protest ;
but to limit theh interpretation to the one supposed sense in
which their compilers understood them was, considering the

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 319
many shades of opimon tolerated at all times in the Established
Church, a very different and a very embarrassing proposal As to
the measures against Mr. Ward personally, he considered them
unwise, as bringing a dangerous and clever book en evidence.
The extracts chosen gave no true idea, he thought, of the
general tone of the book, as the quahfications and reserves
elsewhere to be found were necessarily omitted. Young men
would be tempted to reaction from the prejudice they had
conceived against it when reading the condemned extracts, on
finding how different the book was, when they perused it as a
whole, from the conception they had at first formed of it.
And consequently Mr. Ward would gain that sympathy from
his readers which is naturally given to one who is considered
to have been unfairly treated ; and the book Avould have far
greater influence than it could ever gain if it were left un
noticed by the authorities.
"In spite of its bulk," he writes, "they Avill read at leii.st a
great portion of a volume which has had the honour of an official
condemnation ; and when they do read it the mischief to them of
having received their first impression of it from these extracts will
be evident. They will come to it supposing that it is merely
a collection of bold reckless utterances, iUustrating the last de
velopment, as the Edinburgh reviewers express it, of Puseyism.
They will be surprised to find many of the most offensive charac
teristics of the system which has received that nickname, many of
those by which you and I have been most disgusted, nearly all of
those which have been most denounced in ncAvspapers and reviews,
and which have been regarded as its essential peculiarities, utterly
wanting in this its most finished and ultra advocate. Admiration
of an antiquarian rule, a tendency to substitute outAvard formalities
for inward religion, indifference to the movements and changes
of our time, contempt of Dissenters, Avhether rightly or Avrongly
attributed to the authors of the Oxford tracts, cannot, Avith the
least show of reason, be attributed to Mr. Ward. He acknowledges
the impossibility of adapting ourselves to the maxims of the Fathers,
complains of the English Church for its dry, hard, ritual spirit, and
for its ignorance of Avhat is passing in the Avorld ; pleads for the
sanctity of an hereditary faith, and extends the benefit of the
principle to the English sects ; declares the authority of conscience
to be supreme, asserts the salvation of the soul to be the one object
to which all Church discipline, rites, orders, as well as all theological
study, should be subserrient. His denunciations of the present
state of English society are justified by the strongest evidence, and

320 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.
by the statements of persons of the most unexceptionable Pro
testantism; nor do I think that any clergyman Avho is really
humbled by what he sees around him, and by the sense of his own
responsibilities and sins, vrill Arish to shift on the Government or
people the blame Avhich Mr. Ward heaps on him and upon the
systera to Avhich he belongs. Moreover, the author declares that
he is inwardly loyal to the English Church, that he struggles against
any tendency to be discontented with the paucity of its raeans of
grace, and that he should consider it a mortal sin to leave its com
munion. Such words, spoken to all appearance with much sincerity,
a generaUy quiet tone of writing, evident logical ability, with that
which makes it more esteemed, a continual attempt to disparage
reasoning, as insignificant compared with the testimonies and de
mands of the moral nature ; above all, his disclaimers of all wish
suddenly to introduce continental novelties, his desire that each
man should merely pursue for the present his appointed course of
duty, his confidence that all who do pursue it avUI eventually be
instruments in bringing their Church into entire feUowship with the
Churches abroad ; — his assurance, hoAvever, that the full adoption of
the Latin system, ' the whole cycle of Eomish doctrine,' will not
involve the loss of our Teutonic peculiarities and prejudices, or
compel us to receive anything we specially abhor in Spain or
Belgium, seeing that it is a system wisely adapted to every variety
of race and climate — will unquestionably produce an effect upon
young men, Avhich will be much deepened by their previous expecta
tion of something altogether different. And need I remind any
person who has watched himself, or other men, that the statements
which would have been startling enough greatly to weaken if not to
destroy all agreeable impressions if they had occurred to any one in
the course of his reading, will come Avith quite blunted force when
he recognises them again as those which had been given him as the
characteristical features of it. He will indemnify the author for the
injustice which he thinks he did him at first, by not allowing these
passages to bear their plain obvious meaning. Or else he wUl
think that that meaning, proceeding from a writer so thoughtful and
so cautious, must be an innocent one. He says he has studied the
Articles and the intentions of those who composed them, and he is
quite certain of his conclusions about them. Can we who have not
studied them venture to dispute his authority 1 And, doubtless,
if the Eeformers are such scoundrels, there is no harm in our playing
a trick upon them in return. Probably, after all, he signs the docu
ments about as honestly as the rest of the world."
As to the language in the Ideal Arith respect to justification
by faith, Mr. Maurice went on to say that such young men
as he is contemplating AviU suppose

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 321
"... that a person so civU and courteous could not have com
mitted himself to language of such ferocity if he had not been
impressed with a deep conviction that this particular principle,
however deeply rooted in the hearts and attachments of Englishmen,
must be rooted out at once as being an insuperable obstacle to the
Eeformation which we need."
With reference to the test, after explaining his own
difficulty in pledging himself to subscribe iu the sense of the
compilers — for instance, in the case of the 7 th Article,
which in aU probabiUty was intended to affirm that the Jews
had under the old covenant a clear conception of a future
state, a belief which Mr. Maurice confesses himself unable to
entertain, — he proceeds thus : —
" I would not make invidious distinctions, but I believe there is
one, and only one person in the University, who can with perfect
comfort to himself take this test, and that person is Mr.* Ward.
One who cares nothing for the Articles, who believes them to have
been imposed by knavish men for a knavish purpose, who thinks
that it is just as likely as not that they may have been intended to
make merely truistic statements, cannot, I suppose, have the slightest
objection to declare that he subscribes them in the sense (j.e. in the
no-sense) in which they were originaUy composed or promulgated."
In his second letter Mr. Maurice speaks thus of the
characteristics of the Ideal : —
" Mr. Ward's book, though it can hardly be called a develop
ment of Puseyism in the sense which the Edinburgh He riew seems to
give that word (as identical with devotion to the Fathers, to antiquity,
to Vincentius of Lerins), is unquestionably the last and most complete
developraent of that system worship, the tendency to which has been
so painfully apparent in the Avritings of the modern Oxford school.
And as the mind of the author is clearer, harder, more logical, less
embarrassed by patriotic sympathies or historical associations, than
that of any other person who has taken the same general tone, he
has been able to bring out his theory more consistently, to connect
it much more successfully with the current feelings and notions of
the day, to show upon Avhat maxims it ultimately rests, to point out
the obstacles to the establishment of it in our land."
The line Mr. Ward takes "exactly suits those feelings
which the Aristotehan cultivation has promoted in Oxford ;
one of these feehngs leads to the beUef that the end we should
set before ourselves is the formation of a high and beautiful
Y

322 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.
character, the other to the belief that a system wiU be the
most natural means to that end."
Speaking of Newman's doctrine of development, and
accepting one conception of the term — that of the growth of
living ideas in living minds — Mr. Maurice writes : —
" There appears to be a strange fiuctuation in the writer's mind
between this idea and another — the most diametrically opposed to
it : one, namely, which would identify development with accumula
tion. . . . [Mr. Ward] has no dream of a development except in
this last sense. The accumulation of notions by Fathers, school
men, mystical writers, not the strugghng of living thoughts under
these notions, is what captivates him. The bigger the heap the
greater his admiration. The more it fashions itself into a system
to Avhich no light can come from heaven, though it may be always
gathering to itself new deposits from the earth, the more he
rejoices. He finds it disturbed and decomposed at the Eeforma
tion ; that event, therefore, fills him with ' burning hatred ' : he sees
it moulding itself into shape again in the hands of the Jesuits, he
begins to hope that Providence has not utterly deserted mankind :
finally, he sees some of our deluded Saxon race ready to embrace the
whole cycle of Eomish doctrine, and he prophesies that the Church
among us will live again ; that we shall have doctors and saints ;
that our rich men will become humble and charitable, our poor
peaceful and devout ; that all studies will submit themselves to
Christianity, and will be pursued with constant reference to the
one end of life."
One further point in connection with Maurice's letter
deserves to be noted, both for its own sake and as Ulustrating
the contrast between his cast of mind and Mr. Ward's. I
refer to the attempt — the only one, I believe, made in the
course of the controversy — dhectly to meet Mr. Ward's chal
lenge to the University, — that others should explain in what
sense their subscription was more honest than his own. Mr.
Ward had insisted on the hteral wording of individual Articles,
and had logicaUy shown that violence must be done to thefr
natural interpretation tn many cases, not only by the Eoman
isers, but by others. Maurice, on the other hand, putting
aside the exact logical meaning of individual Articles as a ¦
matter of secondary importance, considered that the Articles as
a whole did represent, not logically or systematically, but stiU
really, a hving principle and a distinct line of opinion ; that
they represented an energising idea above the men who ex-

XII CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 323
pressed it, inadequately put forth by them, not in detaU
recognised by them, making itself known to the world through
them, and appreciated by them in the solemn act of compiling
the Articles, really though indistinctly; — the whole process
being somewhat parallel to inspiration, which conveys mysteri
ously and inadequately through human instruments divine
traths. The. living idea — or rather class of ideas — though
possessing a certain elasticity, does definitely oppose much of
Eoman authoritative teaching. It is a revolt against that over-
systeraatising which cramps the spirit.
Mr. Gladstone, whose opinion in the matter carried aU the
more weight from his authorship of the powerful and temper
ate article in the Quarterly already referred to, refused to be a
party to Ward's condemnation, and stiU more emphatically
opposed the proposed test. The foUoAving extracts from his
correspondence with Archdeacon Wilberforce seem called for
as a supplement to the selections given above from his article.
In the event Mr. Gladstone voted for Ward, and the Archdeacon
against him on both counts.
Me. Gladstone to Archdeacon Wilberforce.
" Hawarden, December 29, 1844.
" My mind is only in an early stage of the process of fermenta
tion on the subject of the Hebdomadal Movement at Oxford ; and
anything I can say is therefore subject to a plenary reserve and
reconsideration. But I confess that I can travel but vcry little ivay
indeed with the Heads ; perhaps no further than this, that Ward's
propositions are each and all of them deserving of censure. . . .
With respect to the new test I have not heard the argument for it,
and have sorae difficulty in conceiving what it can be. In the first
place, I apprehend much is to be said on the naked question of
legality : but that I pass by. On general grounds I see very raany
objections. (1) The recurrence to the sense of first promulgation
is no guarantee against Wardism, because it is part of ^^'a^d's
theory that he is acting wholly within the theory of the promulga
tors. (2) The sense of first promulgation is a matter only to be
known by much historical study ; and so far as I can get at it I am
disposed to believe it Avas a sense very liberal tOAvards the Church
of Eome. This appears to me to stand on the face of the Articles
much more than any other sense. But whether that be so or not, I
do not think you should call on men to aflirm virtually propositions
of history, unless they are knoAvn either by study or notoriety. And
in this case few could have adequately studied, and I am not aware

324 CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" chap.
that any sense {quoad these points) is notorious. (3) I find, how
ever, much greater difliculty still in conjecturing what is meant
by the present sense of the University. I think there is no
University sense sufficiently definite to be made the subject of a
test. But even if that position be waived, where is this definite
sense to be found % And is it fixed or does it vary from year to
year V
Three weeks later he writes as foUows : —
" AVhitehall, January 16, 1845.
"For the sake of. the University I am glad to hear that the test
is withdrawn. I feel more and more the difficulty of the delivery
by Convocation of a sentence in the court of conscience upon Ward.
At the same time I grant you that I should be very sorry to think
for myself that I subscribed the Articles in a non-natural sense. . . .
But I doubt if it amounts to bad faith : and yet more do I feel the
false position in which the University and the Church will be
placed if in these judicial proceedings it be found that men may
tamper with the Articles in relation to the Holy Trinity and the
Offices of our Lord and retain their degrees, while a man who sins
on the particular points of issue between Eome and the Church of
England is to be deprived of his, at the instance of a Board of which
that very man is an active member. . . . The vehemence with
which I have presumed to censure Ward leads me to feel a special
duty of caution and rigid justice in these proceedings."
It may readily be supposed that Dr. Jenkyns of Balhol,
who had been so much upset at Ward's defence of Tract 90,
did not receive the appearance of the Ideal with equanimity.
There are traditions current as to its effects on htm, which
have every sign of being authentic. It is said that he
was found pacing up and down his room with the book
in his hand — shortly after its appearance — quoting in accents
of astonishment and horror some of its strong expressions. "We
are a corrupted Church ! " " We are in a degraded condition I "
" We are to mourn our corruptions in penitential abasement ! "
" We are to sue for pardon at the feet of Eome humbly ; " and
then the word " humbly " he repeated, in a yet deeper tone of
horror. Mr. Ward was once more summoned into the Master's
presence. His tutorship was already gone, and now he was
forbidden to act, as he had done for some years, as deputy
chaplain for Mr. Oakeley, and to read morning and evening
prayers.

xii CONSEQUENCES OF THE "IDEAL" 325
This prohibition was made shortly before the feast of SS.
Simon and Jude in 1844. On that day, in the ordinary
course of things, he was to read the Epistle at the Communion
service on one side of the Communion table, whUe Dr. Jenkyns,
as senior ecclesiastic, read the Gospel at the other side. Mr.
Ward himself expected some sort of protest from the Master,
and he was not disappointed. A scene long remembered by the
undergraduates who were present foUowed. Directly the Master
saw Mr. Ward advancing to the Epistle side of the table he shot
forth from his place and rushed to the Gospel side, and just as
Mr. Ward was beginning, commenced in his loudest tones : —
"The epistle is read in the first chapter of St. Jude." Mr.
Ward made no further attempt to continue, and the Master,
now thoroughly aroused, read at him across the communion
table. The words of the Epistle were singularly appropriate to
the situation, and the Master, with ominous pauses and looks
at the irreverent Puseyite, who had sown sedition in the
Church and blasphemed the Heads of Houses, read as foUows
slowly and emphatically : " For there are certain men crept in
unawares " (pause, and look at Mr. Ward) " who were before of
old ordained unto this condemnation " (pause and look), " un
godly men " (pause and look) ; — and' a httle later stiU more
slowly and bitterly he read, " they speak eril of dignities ! " ^
These scenes, which were remembered by the young
members of the party as the lighter and more amusing side of
the drama of the Moveraent, are said to have really told pain-
fuUy on the spirits of the kind-hearted master. He had a
genuine and cordial affection for Ward, and, enthely unable as
he was to understand the hne he adopted, seems to have felt
towards him as a father towards a son Avhom he has cared for
and taken a pride in, and who at last robs and forges and goes
thoroughly to the bad. A year later, after Mr. Ward had left
BaUiol and married, an old coUege servant who was much
attached to the Master said to Mrs. Ward in tones of deep
feehng, " Oh, ma'am, I'm so glad you've taken Mr Ward
away. You don't know — he was leading the poor Master such
a life of it."
' I owe tho particulars of this scene to the kind information of Mr. F. R.
AVegg Pressor, who was present on the occasion.

CHAPTEE XIII
CONDEMNATION OF ME. WAED
1845
We have now reached the last stage of the proceedings prelimin
ary to the meeting of Convocation of the 13th of February 1845.
One part of the proposed measures — the new test — had to be
abandoned (as has incidentally appeared tn the second extract
frora Mr. Gladstone's letters) in deference to the general pro
test against it. Not only the Liberal party, but many of the
moderates also protested against it quite as strongly as the
Tractarians and followers of Mr. Ward. It was a two-edged
sword, and would certainly affect the subscription of such men
as Dr. Hampden and Dr. Whately quite as much as that of
the Puseyites. But, further, as we have seen, its intrinsic diffi
culties were great. The "sense of the University " at the present
time was a vague and uncertain quantity, nor was it clearly
identical with the sense of the first compilers. Then again
was there a sense of the first compilers ? Did they not rather,
as being men who attached various shades of meaning to the
Articles, represent several senses ? Such riews were held and
put forth, and they were not answered satisfactorily. Mr.
Ward pubhshed his address to Convocation, in which he
enlarged on the difficulties attending the test, and drew out
more fuUy his challenge to aU parties iu the Enghsh Church
to show that they were able to subscribe all the Anghcan
formularies in a natural sense. The test was immediately
afterwards withdrawn, and for the moment the proceedings of
the 1 Sth seemed destined to be a purely personal attack on Mr.
Ward and his book. And even with regard to the book itself,
public opinion seems to have taken a turn in Mr. Ward's favour.

chap, xiii CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 327
"I am clear for Arthur coming up and voting against [the
measure]," writes Mr. James Mozley, on the 1st of February ;
" after Keble and Moberly and the rest have Avritten against it,
it should be opposed by aU Churchmen." And Mr. Ward him
self writes to a friend towards the end of January : " 1 have
been dining at Oriel this evening Arith Church the Proctor,
who was extremely kind as he always is. He seems to think
that the tide is rather turning tn my favour in pubhc affairs."
Indeed there were great hopes that the degradation, at aU
events, would not be carried- — -hopes eventually frustrated
by the very unconcUiatory character of Mr. Ward's speech
before his accusers.
Before proceeding further, however, I must give some
account of the Address to Convocation already referred to,
which Mr. Ward published on 14th January. Its aim and
object, and the state of Mr. Ward's mind in connection Avith
its composition and publication, shall be given in his OAvn Avords.
He writes as follows in the Preface to the Address : —
"I am anxious that members of Convocation should fully
understand what they are to expect. I am not professing in this
pamphlet at all to defend my work, either in substance or in tone.
Whether I was justified in using language of such keen and un
measured invective against the system introduced among us by
the Eeformation, whether my theory on conscience is true or
questionable, on what grounds I consider it safe (or rather my
bounden duty) to remain at present a member of our Church ; —
these, and such as these, are of the utmost importance in them
selves, but are wholly irrelevant to the issue which Convocation is
called on to determine. What 1 have Avished to do here, is to
impress on the minds of merabers of Convocation Avhat that issue
is, and to address a forraal arguraent in my oavu behalf on that
issue. "Nor, again, does this argument profess to be complete, for
this, if for no other reason, that a most important branch of it, the
historical, has been taken in hand by a writer far more com
petent to do it justice. That three years should have been aUowed
to elapse since Mr. Oakeley published his defence of Tract 90,^ and
advocated on historical grounds the position that the Articles Avere
intended to include Eoman Catholics; that during this time no
sort of answer, or attempt at an answer, has been published ;
and then, that members of Convocation should think of ruling the
' Thi subject of Tract 90 historically examined, etc.

328 CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD chap.
matter by the mere force of numbers, by voting without so much
as having professed to give this argument their most careful con
sideration ; this seems to me among those instances (not altogether
rare at present) of monstrous and glaring injustice, Avhich future
ages will be slow to credit. . . . Since I wrote the body of this
pamphlet, a 'Letter to the Vice-ChanceUor' by Dr. Tait has
appeared. I am really most gratified and raost thankful to him
for his very kind and fiattering mention of myself : and in a
different sense, I am also very thankful for the whole 'Letter.'
It is written Arith an openness and honesty which must show how
very sincerely it expresses his sentiments; the note in page 16
must show what his theological opinions are ; and the observations
from p. 12 to p. 15 must show by how lax an interpretation he
himself is able to subscribe our formularies. Dr. Tait is a select
preacher: shall he, I ask members of Convocation, shall he, with
his opinions, be authorised to teach the youth of Oxford with an
especial authority, and shall I, Arith mine, be deprived of my
degrees ? I leave to them the answer. He will not, 1 am sure,
so far misunderstand these remarks as to doubt that I most
cordially reciprocate his expressions of goodwill to myself, and
very highly admire the many excellent and most estimable qualities
of his character.
"I will not dissemble my apprehension that the tone of
the following pamphlet may possibly give offence and pain to
many whom I deeply revere \e.g. Pusey, Isaac Williams, Keble,
etc.] I have found that the same was the case in regard to the
tone of my original work, and indeed I expected beforehand that
it would be so. As to the work, an opportunity will possibly
present itself of entering fully into its defence in this particular.
Of the present pamphlet I have only to say that when I consider
the extreme laxity of interpretation which all parties amongst us
must admit into our formularies when they subscribe them, it
appears to me perfectly outrageous that they should object to my
subscription ; and I could not conscientiously adopt a tone which
could be taken to imply less than this. But I do earnestly hope
and believe that no unbecoming arrogance is really implied in the
boldness and decision of my language, either here or elsewhere. If
I know anything at all of myself I should say that, whether or not
I be considered to rate too highly my intellectual powers (an
imputation on which 1 am not the least sensitive), at all events as
to my moral qualities I am in some considerable measure impressed
with a knowledge of my deplorable deficiency, and with a deep
conviction that if I am able to render any service to theology, it
must be by accepting religious truths and moral principles without
question at the hands of holy men, and confining myself altogether
to the humble and merely intellectual task of analysing those

XIII CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 329
truths and applying those principles. For want of a better
opportunity I may here mention that the article which has
appeared on my work in the Quarterly Beview seems to me so
definite and argumentative in character as to require at my hands
a reply, which I hope to give it as soon as my present excitement
and subsequent weariness shall have come to an end. I am at
once so confident of the truth of the general views contained in my
work, and so sensible of the inadequate manner in which I have
been able to exhibit and illustrate them, that I hail with peculiar
pleasure an attack which will give me the opportunity — (1) of
understanding more distinctly the prevalent misconceptions (to me
very strange) as to my meaning ; (2) of explaining it more dis
tinctly; and (3) of proving my positions raore irresistibly. Certainly,
as far as I see yet, I am quite unable in consequence of that
article either to modify or regret a single sentence I have Avritten."
The appeal to other parties to prove that their subscrip
tion is more " natural " than his own is then worked out in
detail in three sections — one addressed to Evangelical members
of Convocation ; a second to Low Church members ; a third to
those High Church merabers who oppose distinctively Eoman
doctrine. I raay cite as a specimen passage part of the
charge against the Low Churcli party — under Avliich designa
tion he includes the opponents of the High Church doctrine
on latitudinarian principles. Here, apart from direct proof,
he gives two instances Avhere the Articles have been openly
disapproved, and this, in one case, Avithout reser\'ation of any
kind. " There is a writer in high place in the University of Oxford
[Dr. Hampden] who has published, and never retracted, his opinion
that the ' Articles are fatally adverse to all theological improve
ment,' and that ' adherence to them is no less incongruous and
injurious to religion than in a society of physicians to make the
mmxms of Hippocrates and Galen the unalterable basis of their pro
fession.' That a person holding these sentiments should vote in
favour of a new test, wliich requires them to subscribe to the Articles
in tlie sense in which they were first put forth, is a supposition which
we ought not, I suppose, to consider conceivable, unless the event
Avere to show it. But I will pass to a less extreme case. Mr.
Hull has subscribed the eighth Article, Avhich says that the
Athanasian Creed ' ought thoroughly to be received and believed.'
He has published a Avork on this Creed, from which I avUI quote
here only one sentence. ' The Christian faith cannot be set forth
at all in the Athanasian Creed or any other form of Avords ; and

330 CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD chap.

the Church cannot be justified in saying as she now says that so to think
of the Trinity is necessary to salvation.' What course Mr. Hull
intends to take on the present occasion I have no raeans of knoAV-
ing, but I am quite sure, whatever it is, that it Avill be adopted
according to his conscientious convictions of right. But looking at
the matter externally, it is obvious to remark that he and those
who agree with him, if they support a vote refiecting on my good
faith, impeach far more seriously their own."
He concludes this part of his appeal by putting down a
number of passages from the recognised formularies^ — from the
ordination service and from the Prayer-book — passages ex
pressing clearly the Catholic doctrines of a visible Church, of
the sacramental system, of a priesthood with supernatural
powers, of absolution, of the intercession of angels — which
could only be subscribed in a non-natural sense, he maintains,
by any one holding Low Church views. -^
The High Church party are confronted especially with the
21st Article: —
" General councils may not be gathered together Avithout the
commandment and will of princes : and when they be gathered
together (forasmuch as they be an assembly of men, whereof all be
not governed by the Spirit and Word of God) they may err, and
sometimes have erred, even in things pertaining unto God.
Wherefore things ordained by them as necessary to salvation have
^ " Brethren, in the Primitive Church there was a godly discipline that at the
beginning of Lent such persons as stood convicted of notorious sin were put to
open penance and punished in this world, that their souls might be saved in the
day of the Lord, and that others, admonished by their example, might be the
more afraid to oifend. Instead whereof (until the said discipline may be
restored again, which is much to be unshed) our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath left
power to His Church to absolve all sinners who truly repent and believe in Him,
of His great mercy forgives them their ofi'ences ; and by His authority, committed
to me, / absolve thee from all thy sins. In the name of the Father, and of the
Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
' ' 0 Everlasting God, who hast ordained and instituted the services of angels
and men in a wonderful order, mercifully grant that as thy holy angels alway do
service in heaven, so by thy appointment they may succour and defend us on
earth, through Je.sus Christ our Lord. Amen.
"Receive the Holy Ghost for the office and work of a priest in the Church of
God, now committed unto thee by. the Imposition of our hands. Whose sins thou,
dost forgive they are forgiven, and whose sins thou dost retain they are retained.
Receive the Holy Ghost for the office and work of a bishop in the Church of God
— and remember that thou stir up the grace of God, which is given thee by this
imposition of our hands."

XIII CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 331
neither strength nor authority, unless it be declared (ostendi, proved)
that they be taken out of the Holy Scripture."
A High Churchman, he maintained, in subscribing this
must do so simply in a non-natural sense ; and the ingenious
method whereby iu Tract 90 Newman reconcUed the letter of
its words with High Church views ^ was more, and not less,
roundabout and opposed to the natural force of the terms than
such methods as are employed in the Ideal for reconcUing the
19 th Article (e.g.) with a " refusal to attribute error to the
formal decisions of the papal see."
Such was the main drift of the address ; and in its con
cluding paragraph, addressed to all members of Convocation,
he thus speaks : —
" If you have been at all convinced by the preceding arguments,
such a refiection as the following will not unnaturally arise in your
minds : If our formularies be really capable of so wide a latitude,
and if, nevertheless, in order for any one to sign them, parts of
them must inevitably be so distorted from their natural sense, is not
the existence of such formularies an extreme evill I believe I
speak honestly when I say that if this question be by my instru
mentality really and practically brought horae to the mind of a
sufficient number of my brethren, this fact would alone amply repay
all the anxiety and labour in which my work raay have involved
me." The doctrines contained in the Articles are thus
described : —
" Doctrines for whose truth there is absolutely no Avarrant
except that certain bishops and others three centuries since, for
whom no one claims any covenanted Divine illumination, and who
were called upon very suddenly to make most extensive changes,
considered at the moraent that these doctrines Avere derivable from
Scripture and antiquity. What Avould be said if some one of our
colonial bishops were to draw up a set of Articles according to his
own notions of Scripture and antiquity, ordain no one except on
condition of his subscribing them, and proclaim that all are out of
the pale of covenanted salvation who refuse to submit themselves
to the teaching of such clergymen ? And Avherein does this differ
from what took place at the Eeformation 1 "
In conclusion, he urges on those Avho are to try him the solemn
duty Avhicli is incunibeiit on them to decide, not from motives
* See AppendLx E.

332 CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD chap.
of dishke or disapproval of his book, — a question beside the
mark, — but solely on the merits of the proposition to be affirmed.
"Accept the following," he says, "as the sum of what I have
been saying. If, after the most laborious endeavours to separate
off the opinions of my work from the wholly distinct question you
haA'c to consider, and after an anxious, calm, judicial study of our
formularies in their whole extent, you come to the opinion that my
mode of subscription to them is so different from your mode in its
degree of laxity that it amounts to a difference in kind, then (so far
as my present argument is concerned) come up and vote against
me ; if you arrive at the opposite conclusion come up and vote for
me ; but if you are unwilling, or if you doubt your ability to enter
on this complex and difficult investigation, then I pray you, for
your OAvn sake, not mine (for it will injure you and not me if you
commit an unprincipled action), let not zeal for your particular
views of religion blind you to those maxims of common justice and
morality which must be at the bottom of all true religion, but
pursue the honest and straightforward course of refusing to vote on
a question which by your own acknowledgment you have not the
power, or else have not taken the pains, rightly to understand."
Immediately after the appearance of this address the test
was withdrawn, and thus all attempt at meeting Mr. Ward's
challenge as to the principle of his condemnation was aban
doned. The test had asserted a principle of subscription, and
that principle Ward, it was said, had riolated. Now the prin
ciple was no longer put forward, and the proposal became
practically an appeal to general indignation against an un
popular book. Some of the fafrest minds saw this and pro
tested. Mr. Garbett, Prebendary of Chichester, in a letter to
his Bishop, writes : — " Certainly I for one shall refuse to make a
victim of Mr. Ward on a principle which Convocation rejects."
Ward's challenge had been, " Show rae how any of the recog
nised parties in the Church can subscribe in a natural sense
before you condemn me for subscribing in a non-natural," and
the response had been, "Let others subscribe as they will,
we intend to punish you." The withdrawal of the test seemed
in some sense a ruse to escape the logical difficulty Mr. Ward
had raised, and to secure his punishment by an appeal to
passion rather than reason. Many who would have been de
terred from condemning the book if the principle of its con
demnation had been forced on their attention by the test, were

XIII CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 333
ready enough to join in the hue and cry against words so in
sulting to the dignity of the Enghsh Church, when the knotty
and difficult question on which the justice of the measures
really tumed was dropped into the background.
The next event of importance was the presentation to the
Vice-ChanceUor of a requisition signed by 474 members of
Convocation, requesting that Tract 90 should be censured by
Convocation, as weU as Mr. Ward's book. The reqmsition was
couched in the following terms : —
" To THE Eeverend the Vice-Chancellor and the Members
OP the Hebdomadal Board.
" We, the undersigned Members of Convocation, respectfully but
earnestly request that you will take immediate measures for sub
mitting to the Convocation, about to assemble on the 13th of
February next, a resolution conveying the formal censure of the
University upon the principles inculcated in the 90th number of
the Tracts for the.l'imes, and a solemn repudiation of the modes of
interpreting the Thirty-nine Articles therein suggested.
" We consider such a censure on the part of the University
imperatively called for, and peculiarly appropriate to the important
occasion already referred to ; inasmuch as we cannot but recognise
in Mr. Ward's Ideal of a Christian Church a legitimate development
of the principles of Tract 90, and a practical exhibition of the per
nicious effects which raust necessarily result from theh adoption."
The Vice-ChanceUor and Hebdomadal Board accepted and
acted upon this suggestion, and on the 4th of February a notice
was published of the proposed censure on the modes of inter
pretation advocated in the Tract. This Avas a fresh blow at
the party, and a far heavier one, should it succeed, than the
personal censure on Mr. Ward. But it had, possibly, some
effect in leading all the followers of Mr. Newman and Dr.
Pusey to put aside thefr objections to the tone of the Ideal,
and to combine in opposing the enthe proceedings. The
" Non-Placets " — those Avho proposed voting against the
measures — issued a declaration disclaiming sympathy with the
book, and restricting the import of thefr vote to condemnation
of the particular measures proposed.
In the meantime, in a-Icav of the possible and not improbable
contingency that the degradation might pass, Mr. Ward's
friends had been actively engaged in procuring counsel's opinion

334 CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD chap.
as to its iUegaUty. This was obtained mainly through the
active exertions of Stanley and Jowett, who, partly from per
sonal friendship for Mr. Ward, and partly as representing the
protest of the liberal party against the curtaUtng of liberty in
the interpretation of the Articles, took from the first a pro
minent part on the side of the accused.
Sfr J. Dodson, Queen's Advocate, and Mr. E. BetheU,
afterwards Lord Westbury, pubUshed a pamphlet in which
they set forth their opinion of the iUegality of the proposed
measures, and gave their reasons at length. The Univer
sity authorities obtained, however, an opinion in the opposite
sense from Mr. Thesiger — then Solicitor-General — Sir Charles
WethereU, Dr. Adams, and Mr. Cowling, and the programrae for
the 13 th of February was left unmodified.
Early in February Mr. Ward began preparing his speech in
defence of his position for the great occasion.
" 1 am beginning," he writes to a friend with whom he had spent
some days during the Christmas holidays, " to work as hard as health
allows at my speech for Thursday : I went over to Littlemore to
put the skeleton of it before J. H. N., who approved highly.
He was in the highest spirits, and talked very agreeably. . . . He
is supremely indifferent as to the fate of this new move about him
self, Avhich we are all in the highest degree indignant about. . . .
Will you give my kind regards to A, and thank her for her letter,
Avhich I will not answer, as that would be a needless formality ; and
will you give B. and C. my kindest regards. . . . And will you
give the cook my kindest regards, and deprecate her putting poison
into the soup while I am with you."
It is worth whUe at this stage to pause and note, as
one of the remarkable coincidences of the history of the
Movement, the close parallel in its detaUs between the on
slaught of nine years earlier against Dr. Hampden and the
Liberals, and that of the present occasion against Mr. Ward
and Mr. NcAvman. Dean Stanley summed up the facts of the
case at the time, and pubhshed them tn a fly-leaf, which he
headed with the word " Nemesis."
"1. In 1836 Dr. Hampden was censured by Convocation on an
undefined charge of want of confidence. In 1845 Mr. Newman
and Mr. Ward are to be censured by the same body.
"2. In 1836 the country was panic-stricken with a fear of

XIII CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 335
Liberalism. In 1845 the country is panic-stricken with a fear of
Popery. " 3. Four hundred and seventy-four was the majority that cdn-
demned Dr. Hampden. Four hundred and seventy-four is the num
ber of requisitionists that induced the censure on Mr. NeAvman.
" 4. 'The censure on Dr. Hampden was brought forward at ten
days' notice. The censure on Mr. Newman was brought forward
at ten days' notice.
" 5. 'Two Proctors of decided character, and of supposed leaning
to the side of Dr. Hampden, filled the Proctors' office in 1836.
Two Proctors of decided character, and of supposed leaning to the
side of Mr. Newman, fill the Proctors' office in 1845.
" 6. The Standa/rd newspaper headed the attack on Dr. Hampden.
The Standard newspaper heads the attack on Mr. Ward and Mr.
Newman. " 7. The Globe and Morning Chronicle defended Dr. Hampden.
The Globe and Morning Chronicle defend Mr. Ward.
" 8. The Thirty -nine Articles were elaborately contrasted with
the writings of Dr. Hampden, as the ground of his condemnation.
The Thirty-nine Articles are made the ground of the condemnation
of Mr. Ward and Mr. Newman.
" 9. The Bampton Lectures were preached four years before they
were censured. The 90th Tract for the Times was A\ritten four
years before it is now proposed to be censured.
" 10. Two eminent lawyers pronounced the censure on Dr.
Hampden illegal. Two eminent lawyers have pronounced the
degradation of Mr. Ward illegal.
"11. The Edinburgh Beview denounced the mockery of a judg
ment by Convocation then. The English Churchman denounces it
now. " 12. And if, on the one hand, the degradation of Mr. Ward is
more severe than the exemptions of Dr. Hampden ; on the other
hand, the extracts from Mr. Ward give a truer notion of the Ideal
than the extracts from Dr. Hampden of the Bampton Lectm-es.

" 'The wheel then is come full circle.' — The victors of 1836 are
the victims of 1845. The victors of 1845 are the victims of 1836.
The assailants are assailed, the assailed are the assailants. The
conderaners are condemned, the condemned are the condemners.
'The wheel is come full circle.' — Voters of the 13th, take this in
its true sphit — not as an idle note of triumph, not as a merely
striking coincidence, but as a solemn Avarning to all who were con
cerned then, to all who are concerned now ; — as a sign that there
are principles of justice equaUy applicable to opposite cases, and
that sooner or later their violation recoils on the heads of those
who violate them.

336 CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD chap.
" ' The wheel is come full circle.' — How soon may it come round
again ? Voters of the 13th, deal now to your opponents that justice
which perhaps you may not expect to receive from them ; remem
bering that the surest hope of obtaining mercy and justice then is
by showing mercy and justice now. Judge therefore by 1836 what
should be your conduct in 1845, and by your conduct in 1845
what should be your opponents' conduct in 1856, when Puseyism
may be as triumphant as it is now depressed — when none can Avith
any face cry for toleration then who have refused toleration now,
or protest against a mob tribunal then if they have used it now,
or deprecate the madness of popular clamour then if they have
kindled or yielded to it now."
The eventful day which was to decide Mr. Ward's fate,
and possibly the fate of the whole party to which he belonged,
was now approaching. Dean Stanley, whose efforts on Mr.
Ward's behalf at the time were unceasing, has written a graphic
description of the state of feeling in Oxford and throughout
the Church.1
"The excitement," he writes, "now centred in Mr. Ward.
The Old High Church party with its prejudices, the Evangelical
party with its natural hostility to anything which bore a semblance
to Eoman doctrine, were all united against the enemy. It was
rumoured that Bishop PhUpotts wrote to the Hebdomadal Board
expressing his intention of voting against Mr. Ward, but that he
needed proof of his being the author of the book. At last came
the memorable day, which must be regarded as the closing scene of
the conflict of the first Oxford Movement. It was February 13th,
St. Valentine's Eve. It was a day in itself sufficiently marked by
the riolent passions seething within Oxford itself, and aggravated
to the highest pitch by the clergy and laity of all shades and classes
who crowded the colleges and inns of Oxford, for the great battle
of Armageddon, which was to take place in the Convocation of
Oxford that day assembled in the Sheldonian theatre. The
agitation penetrated to the very servants and scouts. They stood
ranged round the doors of their colleges, waiting for the issue of
the writ, filled with the gaudia certaniinis. ' Theirs not to reason
why.' The excitement of the day was yet more fiercely accentuated
by one of the most tremendous snowstorms which had down to
that time taken place within the memory of man. Fast and thick
fell the flakes amidst the whirlwinds which snatched them up and
hurried them to and fro. Two academics who on the night before
had arrived at Swindon, in the hope of finding shelter on that
perilous night, found every bed and every corner occupied ; yet
^ Edinburgh Review, April 1881, Article I.

XIII CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 337
such was their ardour for the fray that they walked that dismal
journey to be in time for the fatal hour. The undergraduates, who
ardently participated in the excitement of their seniors, watched
the procession, as it passed under their windows, vrith mingled
howls and cheers ; and one of them, of more impetuosity than the
rest, cUmbed to the top of the Eadcliffe Library, and from that
secure position pelted the Vice-Chancellor Arith a shower of snow
balls to testffy his detestation of the obnoxious measure."
The Sheldonian theatre, the scene of the day's proceedings,
was fiUed with Masters of Arts from aU parts of England. It
was no merely personal event, it was a crisis in the history of
the constitution of the English Church, which was in some
measure to decide the legal rights and theological position of
thousands of her sons. "A great proportion of those who
arrived," writes an eye-witness in the Times of 14th February,
"were men distinguished in public Ufe, who came up pur
posely to be present at the Convocation." I'rominent amongst
them were Mr. Gladstone, Lord Shaftesbury, the Earl of
Eomney, Archdeacon Manning, Mr. J. E. Hope (afterwards
Mr. Hope -Scott), Lord Sandon, Lord Faversham, Dr. Tait,
Dean Merreweather of Hereford, Sir Thomas Acland, Dr.
Moberly (afterwards Bishop of Sahsbury), Sfr W. Heathcote,
the Bishop of Llandaff, the Bishop of Chichester, Lord Kenyon,
the Earl of Eldon, Sir John Mordaunt. The Oxford authori
ties also were present in large numbers. Dr. Pusey supported
Mr. Ward by his presence, in spite of Ms disapproval of the
tone of the Ideal. Dr. Hampden was present, to Avitness the
discomfiture of the party which nine years earher had used its
power with so much effect against himseU. Dr. Faussett, the
protagonist of the anti-Tractaxians, Avas in his place. There
was a large nuraber of opponents of the measures on pubhc
grounds, and a Uttle knot of Avarm personal friends — Stanley
and JoAvett, the FeUows of BalUol, Macmullen, Bloxam, Ob
server Johnson, among their number. Oakeley stood Avith
Ward in the Eostrum, identifying his own opinions with those
of lus friend, and prepared to abide by theh consequences.
"A fuU Convocation at Oxford," says a contemporary
writer,! " is an imposing spectacle. The theatre, one of Wren's
noblest works, with its rostra and semi-cfrcular gaUeries, is
' Edinburgh Review, April 1845.
Z

338 CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD chap.
admfrably adapted to enable a large assembly to see and be
seen, and to hear a person speaking from one of the rostra
. . . though it would be unsuited to a debate in which men
spoke frora thefr places. It is fit for its purposes — solemn
proceedings and set speeches. On the 13 th of February it
must have contained fifteen hundred persons, for nearly twelve
hundred voted, and the neuters must have exceeded three
hundred." " When the whole assembly," continues Dean Stanley, " was
crowded within the theatre, packed as closely as the area of that
splendid building would permit, the Eegistrar of the University
read out the incriminating passages of the Ideal of a Christian
Church. Grown wiser, and we may add, more just, by the experi
ence of the attack on Dr. Hampden, they did not condemn the
whole book, but certain extracts which were chosen from it. The
general proceedings were in Latin, but it was curious to hear the
grave voice of the Eegistrar proclaiming in the vernacular from
his high position these several sentences — ' Oh most joyful ! most
wonderful ! most unexpected sight I we find the whole cycle of
Eoman doctrine gradually possessing numbers of English Church
men ! ' Once again the English language was permitted to be heard
in that assembly ; the Vice-Chancellor rose in his place and an
nounced in Latin that, by permission of. the Chancellor, to Mr.
Ward, and to Mr. Ward alone, was to be given the privilege of
using in his own defence his native tongue. Then followed the
apology for the book, at that time known in its every part, now
probably become one of the obsolete curiosities of literature. It
consisted of an effective address, challenging all parties in the
Church equally to vindicate their subscription to the Thirty-nine
Articles, and calling upon him who was without fault to throw the
first stone."
The opening of Mr. Ward's speech has been fully reported.
It began in the following terms : —
" Mr. Vice-Chancellor — I am bound at once to state that 1
shaU conclude what I have to say by delivering in to you a formal
protest against the legality of this whole proposal. I deny that this
venerable House has any power, with the present object in view, to
decide on the question whether or not my opinions be consistent with
the Thirty-nine Articles. Much more I deny that it has any power
to deprive me of my degrees. StUl I cannot shut my eyes to the
fact that should these proposals be unhappily adopted, they may
produce considerable effect, — I do not say on my own personal
credit, but what is incomparably more important, on the general

XIII CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 339
well-being of our Church, — nay, you raust excuse me if I add, on
the credit and good name of this University." [Here some very
marked demonstrations of applause were made in the theatre. . . .
Mr. Ward imraediately addressed himself to those who had made
the inteiTuption thus : — " I am sure aU who are here must feel that
we are engaged in a very grave judicial inquhy, and that those who
are here thus as judges wiU weigh with judicial gravity what is said
on the occasion ; and that therefore there will not be any demon
strations of feeling or of opinion, however much it raight be person
aUy grateful to me to feel that any such demonstration was in my
favour." Mr. Ward then continued his speech.]
"Feeling as I do very strongly, and believing in my conscience
that this raeasure as a whole, however otherwise intended by many
of its supporters, is oppressive and unjust, I cannot pass over any
legitimate opportunity given me to influence the decision to which
this House may come ; and I shall therefore proceed to press on
your attention the chief topics which occur to me as reasons likely
to avail with you for its rejection.
"In speaking, then, of myself as of an accused person, and of
members of Convocation here present as my judges, you Avill not
understand me to concede that any charge is so much as alleged
against rae of which I believe Convocation to have cognisance, but
only to concede for arguraent's sake what this is not the place to
dispute, in order that there may be free scope for what I have to
say. If ever there was an occasion on which an accused person Avas
warranted in using the most urgent and clamorous solicitations for
a full, calm, and unprejudiced hearing, such an occasion is the
present. I stand here, the supporter of doctrines which the great
majority of you who claim to try me hold in suspicion and dislike ;
the question which you have to determine is absolutely and entirely
distinct from the merits of these doctrines ; and yet, unless you
make the greatest possible effort to free your minds from undue
prepossession, it is quite certain that the dislike and suspicion in
which you hold the doctrines themselves will bias you, even Arithout
your own knowledge, in judging of the wholly different issue Avhich
you have to determine. I repeat, — for I cannot repeat it too often,
— the issue before you has no more to do with the question whether
the doctrine in my book be true or false than with the question
whether my style of writing be good or bad, or whether my expo
sition be dull or interesting. You have heard the proposition sub
mitted to you. It is a declaratory proposition, intended to serve
as the foundation for an enactment. The declaration is that I have
violated the engagement on which my degrees Avere conferred, and
the enactment that I be deprived of those degrees. You see at
once that no theological determination is so much as hinted at.
My opinions are complained of not as being false, or dangerous, or

340 CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD chap.
undutiful, or rash, but as being inconsistent with my good faith.
One issue in regard to them, and one only, is placed before you, —
theh consistency with certain formularies which I subscribed when
I received my degrees, and my good faith in respect of those
subscriptions. " If the Oxford Convocation had any claim to represent the
Church of England, undoubtedly their disapprobation of ray theology
Avould have the utmost weight in determining (even then I don't
see how it could determine what lias been the meaning of subscrip
tion, but) what it is hereafter to be. But you who are to be my
judges have no royal road open to discovering what is the true
sense of the Church of England. You must proceed by the same
humble path along which a private individual like myself proceeds;
you must judge of her sense by examining her formularies. All
the wishes in the world cannot alter facts. Your belief that certain
doctrines are ever so pernicious can have nothing to do with the
question whether they are allowed by the symbolical documents of
the English Church ; and yet I cannot but fear that vast numbers of
you mis up in your minds these absolutely distinct matters, and
spare yourselves the trouble of examining this question that is
before you, because of your intense conviction on a question you
have nothing to do with. And this difficulty of procuring a fair
hearing is greatly increased by the necessary nature of my defence.
I subscribed certain formularies in what I have called a non-natural
sense. Granted. But is it the intention of the Church of England
that they necessarily be subscribed in a natural sense ? If it (be,
then it is the intention of the Church of England that there shall be no
subscribers to tliem at all."
The speech proceeded. The general impression produced
by it on the writer in the Times quoted above is thus recorded
by htm : — " Mr. Ward's speech occupied somewhat more than
an hour. He spoke with remarkable rapidity, but at the same
time with great calmness and self-possession — with the air of
a man, in fact, who felt a deep conriction that he was right."
It had in it Uttle that was conciUatory. Even when his argu
ment was strongest and most convincing, and his dehvery most
forcible, he would remind his hearers — parenthetically, as Pro
fessor Jowett teUs me — that he held the " whole cycle of
Eoman doctrine." To its power many who reraeraber it testify
in strong terms. Stanley, who was standing near Jowett, said
to him, " They would never have let Ward speak in Enghsh if
they had knoAvn how weU he could speak." But his whole
defence implied and expressed as its sole ground the unwelcome

XIII CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 34i
assumption of the hopelessly illogical character of the Enghsh
Church. His judges were, he maintained, utterly unjustffied,
in aU consistency of logic, in condemning him, because the
Church to which they belonged was itself hopelessly incon
sistent. If the rest of the Anglican formularies were consistent
Arith the Articles, he had no locus standi. But amid a hopeless
jumble of inconsistent pledges, he remained free and untram
melled ; — and the Church remained conricted of foUy and
self-contradiction. The effect of the speech on the hostile
majority is thus described by one of them : — ¦
" His speech in defence," continues the Avriter in the Edinburgh
Beview already cited, "... was exceedingly well^delivered ; boldly,
clearly, with great self-possession . . . but the matter seemed in
tended auditores malevolosfacere. Every statement and every inference
that could offend their prejudices, irritate their vanity, or wound
their self-respect, was urged with the zeal of a candidate for martyr
dom. In deference, he said, to the advice of his laAvyer, he stated
that his opinions had entirely changed since his subscription ; and
even if the case had been otherwise, he denied the legal right of
Convocation to punish by degradation. These raatters, however,
(which were the strong points of his case), he passed over briefly.
He then restated his full assent to all the doctrines of Eome ; he
restated his readiness to repeat his subscription ; he repeated that
he believed and was ready to subscribe to the Articles in a non-
natwal sense ; and he affirmed that the imponens of subscription . . .
intended that they should be so subscribed, for that, if the imponens
did not so intend, he must have intended that they should not be sub
scribed at all. He contrasted the Articles in their natural sense Arith
the Prayer-book, with each other, and Avith the common feelings and
opinions of mankind ; and then put it to his hearers. High C'hurch
and Low Church, Calvinistic and Armenian, whether their subscrip
tion was not as unnatural as his own."
" After all," wrote the late Canon Mozley, two days after the
scene, " I really ara astonished at the number of men and sort of
men who supported Ward after such avowals as he made. It is
really a phenomenon to me. If he said once, he said tAventy times
in the course of his speech, ' I believe all the doctrines of the Eoman
Church'" "The prohibition of English,'' continues the writer in the
Edinburgh, "had its intended effect. Only one speech was
attempted in Latin. In consequence of the position of the speaker
in the area, and pressed on by a dense crowd, it was impossible to
distinguish more than that he opposed the degradation on the
ground that Mr. Ward's errors, if errors they were, Avere not errors

342 CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD chap.
of infidelity. 'Nil dixit,' he exclaimed, 'Dominus Guglielmus
Ward contra Deum optimum maxiraum, nil dixit contra Dei fihum
unigenitum, nil dixit contra spiritum sanctum.' ^ In other words, he
said, my client never stole a lion, he never stole an elephant, he
never stole a tiger, — that may be trae, but he is indicted for steaUng
a sheep." The speech over, the Vice-Chancellor put the question.
"There was a roar and counter-roar of 'placets' and 'non-
placets.' A scrutiny was then ordered," and the first resolution
— the censure of the passages from the Ideal — was carried by
777 to 391 ; the second — the degradation — by a much
smaUer majority, 569 to 511. Then came the proposal for
the condemnation of Tract 90. The Vice-Chancellor read the
resolution. "But now the two Proctors rose," Mr. GuUle
mard and Mr. Church, the present Dean of St. Paul's, " and
uttered . . . the words which, except on one memorable
occasion [the Hampden case], no one now hving had CA'er
heard pronounced in Convocation." When the resolution was
put, " a shout of ' non ' was raised, and resounded through the
whole building, and 'placets' from the other side, over which
GuUlemard's nobis Brocuratorihus non-placet was heard like a
trumpet and cheered enormously. The Dean of Chichester
threw himself out of his doctor's seat and shook both Proctors
violently- by the hand," ^ and, " Arithout any formal dissolution,
indeed, without a word more being spoken, as if such an inter
position [as the Proctors' veto] stopped aU business, the Vice-
ChanceUor tucked up his gown, and hurried down the steps
that led from his throne into the area, and hurried out of the
theatre ; and in five minutes the whole scene of action was
cleared."* Mr. Ward was cheered by the undergraduates as
he left the theatre, and the Vice-Chancellor was saluted by
hisses and snowbaUs from the same quarter. Ward walked
back from the theatre tn company with Tait, who had voted
against him on the first count.*
1 The speaker, of course, meant that if men like Hampden and Whately were
not degraded for free-thought, degradation seemed over-severe for men whose
errors fell short of free-thinking. But, as Dean Stanley says, "The time for
argument was past. In that infuriated assembly, infuriated on hoth sides hy the
passions of the contending parties, action was the only course."
^ Mozley's Letters, p. 165.
^ Edinburgh Review, April 1845, p. 394.
* In the course of this walk Tait warmly praised the peroration of Mr. AiVard's

XIII CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 343
It was noticed that Mr. Gladstone's non-placet was
pecuharly vehement. He voted in Mr. Ward's favour on both
propositions. AU the FeUows of BaUiol vrithout exception
supported Mr. Ward Ukewise in both votes.
In the course of the afternoon Ward went to see Dr.
Pusey, who had been very sympathetic throughout. He began
to discuss his anomalous position in the University — an under
graduate (for his degree was gone), and yet FeUow of BaUiol.
" They can't expect me to wear an undergraduate's cap and
gown," he said ; " I suppose I must wear my beaver." And
he commenced some jocose anticipations of coming disputes
with Dr. Jenkyns on the subject, when a voice from the other
end of the room was heard to say in grave and measured
accents : " The situation seems to me, Mr. Ward, to be one of
the utmost grarity. It is hideed a serious crisis. Let us not
at such a time give way to a spirit of lerity or hilarity."
The speaker was Archdeacon Manning, who had voted for
Mr. Ward, but whose first personal introduction to him was on
this occasion.^ Later in life he came, I think, to acquit Ward
of levity, and to enjoy a joke in the course of theh theological
discussions. The acquaintance thus begun grew in after years
to relations of cordial intimacy, which lasted to the end of
Ward's life.
Several of Mr. Ward's friends were amused — though not
surprised, as the Archdeacon of Chichester had been on the
previous day — when, on coming early next morning to discuss
with him the state of events, they foimd that besides a careful
letter to the Vice-ChanceUor and another to EoundeU Palmer
on the legal questions connected with his degradation, he had
speech, which consisted of an eloquent appeal to all those who loved the liberty
which rightfully belonged to English Churchmen to make common cause
mth him. Mr. Ward had read the peroration, the rest of the speech being
delivered Arithout notes or manuscript. Ward's reply was characteristically
candid : " I am glad you liked it. Those rhetorical efforts are out of my line ;
but Stanley said there should be something of the kind. He wrote it for me."
1 This is the account I have often heard my father give of his first introduc
tion to Cardinal Manning. The Cardinal tells us that in the conversation which
ensued tho doctrines of Lutheranism were discussed, and Mr. Ward repeated his
opinion — expressed in the Ideal — that they were worse than atheism. The energy
and intensity of expression in the Ideal suggested a retort to the Archdeacon, and
he said, "The most Lutheran book I have ever read was called The Ideal of a
Christian Church."

344 CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD chap.
to show them some verses on the recent proceedings, Avhich he
sang to them, to the tune of some popular ballad.
The first verse was something of the foUowing kind : —
" A system has been now derised
Which cannot be evaded ;
And those who don't to it conform
WiU forthwith be degraded."
The refrain consisted in a repetition of the word " degraded,"
first in the voice of Symons the Vice-ChanceUor, then in that
of Jenkyns of BaUiol, and so on throughout the hst of the
most obnoxious of the Heads of Houses.
Mr. Ward's friends, who had been unceasingly active in
endeavouring to avert his condemnation, now began fresh
endeavours to obtain, by legal measures, a reversal of the
sentence of Convocation. EoundeU Pahner offered to take the
matter tn hand, and commenced forthwith the necessary pro
ceedings. " I exerted myself," writes Lord Selborne, " to
procure for him legal redress. It was thought (Mr. BetheU,
afterwards Lord Westbury, concurring in that opinion) that
the Convocation of the University had exceeded its jurisdiction
by assuming cognisance of an (alleged) ecclesiastical offence by
a clergyman of the Church of England." All the business
matters connected with the case were, Mr. Ward said, " out of
his hne," and his friends undertook them, whUe he confined
himself to the logical defence of his position. After the scene
of the 13th, he rerised his speech for pubhcation, and, as I
have said, wrote a careful letter to Dr. Symons. But
various business papers were, apparently, despatched to Mr.
Church of Oriel, Arith the following note : —
"My dear Church — Stanley says that you have kindly
undertaken the work I asked him to do. Would you, Arith equal
kindness, take the enclosed into your attention ? I hope the
trouble is not very great, but I don't understand such things. —
Yours most truly, W. G. Ward, Undergraduate'.'
The feehng, for the few days succeeding the proceedings
of Convocation, was decidedly in Mr. Ward's favour, until
chcumstances, which shaU be later referred to, brought about
a change. The subjoined letter gives the impressions of a
contemporary as to the state of public opinion at the time.

XIII CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 345
It was Avritten by a member of Convocation who had gone up
to Oxford for the occasion.
" Poor Ward has lost the battle numericaUy, but we aU feel
that the raoral effect is decidedly in his favour. His speech was
too bold and too unvarnished to gain very many of such as could
come up pledged to condemn him without having read his Avritings,
and before they had heard his defence ; but its very openness and
honesty told with others. I know several residents who were
turned by it ; but the non-resident clergy are, I fear, too bigoted in
the mass to listen to so repulsive an argument as that of the
' expansiveness of our Articles.'
" However, the legal question is now to come on, and Ward may
yet triumph. He is publishing his speech, so you avUI see it in a
fuUer and more corrected form than the papers give. No. 90, I
think, will be left untouched, but there is great apprehension of
the Heads of Houses bringing on some test again ; and, Arith
Parliament to back them, they will probably succeed in carrying it,
but not without a tremendous struggle. I earnestly hope the crisis
may be delayed, for whatever happens in a period of great excite
ment is sure to cause many heart-burnings and bitter regrets after
wards, which can only prejudice the cause of unity and retard the
progress of that event which we all have so much at heart."
Oakeley wrote to the Vice-ChanceUor on the 14th, publicly
committing himself to Mr. Ward's riews of subscription. The
letter led to consequences which he had not foreseen Arith
reference to his own position in the Enghsh Church But
of this I must speak in a subsequent chapter.
On 15 th February Newman wrote to Ward from Littlemore
as follows : — " LiTTLEMOKE, \Uh February 1845.
My dear Ward — I hoped to have sent you a line yesterday,
but so many people came that it was impossible.
You cannot be taken by surprise at what has happened ; yet I
am a little anxious lest, when the excitement is over, you may
perhaps suffer from it. I hope not indeed. That your part has
been an important one in the course of events which are happening,
though we are as yet too near to understand it, is beyond all
doubt ; and there is every reason to think it Arill not be less
important in time to come. No decree of councU or Convocation,
unless a special divine power goes with it, can destroy opinion, or
those who are the organs of it. It is impossible to anticipate
things ; but one may say, I trust, vrithout presumption, that your
course is only just begun. That it may ever be ruled and blessed

346 CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD chap.
by a Higher Intelligence is the sincere prayer of, my dear Ward,
yours very sincerely, John H. Newman.
" P.S. — Will you convey a kind remembrance of me to Oakeley.
I feel very much for him just now ; but 1 have very little or
nothing which I could put into words."
I subjoin the text of Mr. Ward's letter to the Vice-
Chancellor. " Balliol College, Vith February 1845.
Mr. Vice-Chancellor — I entertain so much respect for the
authority of the House of Convocation, when acting within its
legitimate prorince, that I think a statement of the reasons which
lead me to consider my position in the University morally unaffected
by what has passed to-day, is due to you, and to all who have been
instrumental in promoting the censure voted against me. Of
course I am not now referring to the act of degradation, the
validity of which will be the subject of legal decision. I refer to
the former of the two resolutions passed in Convocation — a resolu
tion which, as it in effect pronounces certain theological propositions
published by me (and to which I firmly adhere) inconsistent with
the 39 Articles, might seem at first sight to impose upon me the
obligation of voluntary retirement from all those rights and
privUeges vrithin the University for which subscription to the 39
Articles is a qualification. Could I be satisfied that Convocation is
the trae imponens of the Articles upon members of the University,
so as to be capable of authoritatively determining the sense in
which they ought to be subscribed, I should not be disposed to
inquire how far subscription is necessarily to be considered as a
continuing act, nor should I hold myself at liberty to subscribe any
longer in the sense which Convocation has repudiated. I should in
that case at once relinquish my position in the University.
" But I think it will be obvious to every one that my duty under
such circumstances must depend essentially upon the question
whether Convocation is the true imposer, and the competent inter
preter, of subscription or not. If not, it is plainly beyond the power
of Convocation, either by the general condemnation of any par
ticular modes of interpreting the Articles or by the express con
demnation of that sense in which I myself subscribe, to acquire
any moral authority over my conduct in this respect.
"If Convocation cannot rule affirmatively the sense in which
members of the University shall subscribe, it necessarily follows
that Convocation cannot rule negatively the sense in which
members of the University shall not subscribe. Now it is well
known that the question whether Convocation is legally capable of
requhing members of the University to declare that they subscribe
the Articles in a particular sense has been lately the subject of

XIII CONDEMNATION OF MR. WARD 347
consideration by legal authorities ; and it has been held by those
authorities (nor, as far as I know, has it been disputed by others)
that the Articles are imposed, and the sense of subscription
determined, by the law of the land ; and that the judges of the
Ecclesiastical Courts alone have the power authoritatively to
declare that sense, while the Supreme Legislature alone has the
power of altering or adding to it. Under these circumstances,
great and sincere as is my respect for the House of Convocation,
I cannot feel that any obligation whatever is laid upon me, in con
sequence of the events of this day, to act for the futiu'e upon any
different view of subscription to the Articles from that on which I
have hitherto acted, and which is expressed in my work and
pamphlets. — I remain, Mr. Vice-Chancellor, your faithful Servant,
" William George Ward."

CHAPTEE XIV
COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT
1845-1846
Me. Ward's days in the Church of England were in reaUty
numbered, although a lawsuit with respect to the validity of
his degradation was impending. A state of things which he
httle dreamt of when he pubUshed the Ideal, had made him
resolve to resign his Fellowship ; and under such chcumstances
it was not ultimately thought worth whUe by his friends to
pursue the proceedings with respect to his degradation.
A friendship with the sister of one of his Christ Church
contemporaries, WUliam Wingfield, and an habitude of Oakeley's
beautiful services at Margaret Street, had grown unconsciously
into something more than a friendship. Mr. Ward had first
taken deacon's orders with no behef in their sacramental
character. But even after his final ordination as a New
manite, the anomalous state of the Enghsh Church seemed
to him to throw such doubt upon the Episcopal succession, that
he had never beheved hi the vahdity of his own orders. His
riews on clerical ceUbacy were therefore no bar to his marriage.
StiU, when it came to the alternative of breaking off a friend
ship which had been so much to him, and taking a step which
must necessarUy, in the excited state of feeling on every point
in Cathohc doctrine, be a shock to his supporters, he hesitated;
and it was only the decided counsel of the men to whom he
ever looked for adrice in matters of duty, which determined
him to act as he acted. Newman held that it was his voca
tion, as he felt it to be for his happiness, that the friendship
should be aUowed to become what it had fast been becoming.
Miss Frances Mary Wingfield was the youngest daughter

chap, xiv COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 349
of the Eev. John Wingfield, D.D., one of the plurahsts of
byegone days, who held, among other preferments, a canonry
of York, a prebendal staU at Worcester, and another hving at
Bromsgrove. She had long been a zealous Puseyite, and had
foUowed Mr. Ward's career Arith all the sympathy which was
natural tn a disciple of Oakeley. They were engaged to be
married in the Arinter of 1844, on the eve of the events
described in the last chapter. It was thought advisable,
considering the exasperated state of pubhc feeling, that
the engagement should not be pubhcly known untU after the
proceedings of 13 th February. It was not a time at which
the public mind would be disposed to take a fafr view of the
subject ; and the broad fact that the Enghsh clergyman who
advocated clerical ceUbacy was himself about to marry, woiUd be
a more effective weapon in the hands of his opponents than the
more complicated and personal considerations by which indi
vidual duty is decided, could be for his friends. In calmer times
the case might have been otherwise. John Wesley advocated
clerical celibacy, and yet thought that his own chcumstances
and character warranted hhn in marrying. And though he
had not even the plea which Mr. Ward had, that he did not
regard his orders as assured, or his vocation to be that of a
priest, we do not hear of his marriage being criticised. But
December 1844 was a moraent of intense excitement and con
sequent unfairness on all sides in the Enghsh Church. The
party could not risk the possible consequences of disclosure,
and the engagement was not divulged untU the great day of
Mr. Ward's trial before the University was past.
It was a nine days' wonder, and a year or two later,
when Mr. Ward had become a Cathohc layman, probably very
few disapproved of it. But at the moment it destroyed the
effectiveness of the Tractarian position before the eyes of the
public.^ Those whose opinion and friendship Mr. Ward most
valued — Newman, Oakeley, Stanley — were, as I have said,
1 Stanley, in the essay already cited in the text, refei-s to AVard's marriage as
the collapse of the Movement. I give in this chapter some of the other events
which might be said to have indicated or caused its collapse — the decision of
tho Ecclesiastical Courts on the Stone Altar case, the proceedings with reference to
Mai'garet Street, etc. Whatever may have been the immediate occasion, however,
of the collapse, Newman's known intention of leaving the Church of England
must have been the chief cause, — the destruction of its motive principle.

350 COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT chap.
strongly in favour of it. " I anticipate nothing but good and
happiness on aU sides," Oakeley wrote, and Stanley's approval
and pleasure are emphaticaUy recorded in one of Ward's letters
to his fiancee. Under these chcumstances the disapproval of
comparative strangers affected him httle. An extract may be
here inserted from a letter addressed to his fiancie on Palm
Sunday 1845, indicating the state of feehng on aU sides —
[He speaks of a feeling of solitariness] " partly from the impres
sion on my mind that [my friends] so ranch disapprove what I
have done. I don't mean that I am at all incapacitated from attend
ing to my duties ; rather, I think, there AriU be so much of loneUness
as to make this a really and energetically penitential week, but not
too much for that object, i.e. not so much as seriously to overwhelra
me. I have a great notion that I am now so much rested from my
fatigues and excitements that I am quite fitted (not indeed for
anythhig like my average amount of exertion, but still) for a more
energetic life than I have been leading for the last four weeks ;
and I think this week AriU be an inestimably valuable preparation
for such a course. . . . Some expressions in the meditation which
I arranged to read vrith you yesterday (but which I am sorry to
say I was not able to read till to-day, having had too great a
headache yesterday to have time for it . . .) some expressions, I
say, in that meditation have been leading me to think how desir
able it is that there should be more devotional books than I happen
to know of written for the use of those who are married or about
to be married, or again may have very specially intimate friends ;
because in so many unspeakably important ways (as I remember
expressing to you) we are a type of the Church to each other, and
a refuge and protection against the world, rather than part of the
world ; while yet on the other hand, of course, there is need of
constant effort that we go on raore and more to love each other
in Christ and not out of Him, if I may so speak. ... I have had
long talks with Macmullen, Observer Johnson, Stanley, and WaU.
I find that the more common objection has been not to the mar
riage, but to the time of its announcement, though many unite
with that the opinion that I ought not ... to have published
my book. J. Keble is much pained, and Archdeacon Manning
extremely so. . . . J. Morris, on the other hand, seems to have
been consistently kind and apologetic. Scott of our College (a
very good man, but whose judgment I must confess I very little
value) simply approves : but I can hear of no one else who has done
so — except Eichards and Marriott. I have been very much sur
prised to find how httle all this has affected me. I mean that
though I always knew it could have no tendency to shake my
own conriction, still I expected in proportion as the amount of

XIV COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 351
disapprobation should be impressed on my imagination that I
should be a good deal distressed ; whereas except so far as the
feehng of desolateness to which I above alluded is traceable to it,
it has had no such effect or tendency whatever. Temple I forgot
to mention; — he, you may remember, is that FeUow of ours who said
he should now be very long before he again read the Ideal, which
he had considered a real book. On Friday night I had a long talk
with him . . . and argued the -matter out. I did not, as I told him,
press for an immediate conclusion in his mind. . . . Sunday evening.
The party [at Observer Johnson's] went off very briskly. None of
the company vrished me joy, and Church's manner at entering was
decidedly cool : but they abstained with particular care from severe
allusions ; only the Observer uttered many jokes which were quite
good-natured and harmless. . . ."
Again he writes on Good Friday — nine days before his
marriage. He speaks of being troubled, during Holy week,
by temptations against Faith. "My brain always gets
into more or less of knots and perplexities," he says, " when
I am left to myself so much as during this Holy week (for
unhke you it is not good for me being too much by myself,
except on rare occasions), and this year there has been more of
that, from having passed the rest of Lent so absolutely at rest
and without preparation for the last week of it."
" On Monday and Tuesday in particular I suffered very much
in spirits. . . . However, upon the whole, I have spent, I trust, a
very profitable (if not a very happy, which it has not been) Aveek.
And if it has been (as you say is your own case this Lent) less care
fully kept than in some forraer years, this is quite accounted for by
my exhaustion and over- work up to 13 th February, and by absence
of preparation since that time. One important thing I have begun,
and I hope regularly to continue, viz., to put down in wiiiing each
day the results of the self-examination of the previous day, both
general and particular, the latter mentioning even very slight
instances of one's besetting sin or sins. . . .
"You know I am to Avear your chain to-morrow. I shall
appear quite resplendent in Easter novelty of dress."
Mr. Ward was married on 31st March 1845. He and
Mrs. Ward took a small cottage at Eose HUl, in the ricinity
of Oxford. The legal proceedings for the restoration of his
degrees were not at once abandoned. Lord Selborne, who was
acting for him, tells me that Ward himself never from the
first took any interest in them, though he was prepared to do
whatever might be thought adrisable, and useful to the pubhc

352 COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT chap.
cause he represented. In April 1845 he was adrised to
claim his right to sit in Convocation as a Master of Arts, on
the ground that his degradation was Ulegal. He consented,
but Avished to confine himself to the assertion of his rights
and to create as Uttle disturbance as possible. He wrote as
foUows to the present Dean of St. Paul's on the subject on
21st AprU 1845.
" My dear Church — E. Palmer, I just find, mentioned to you
that I was likely to appear in Convocation on Thursday. I should
feel, however, raost particularly obliged, if you could possibly do
so, if you would not mention it more than you can help, as I am
very anxious that there should not be a scene on the occasion, but
that all should be transacted as quietly as possible. — Yours ever
most truly, W. G. Ward."
Meanwhile, however, the definite line which the rulers of
the AngUcan Church were adopting with regard to the
Eomanisers was bringing matters to the final crisis. The
authorities were now thoroughly roused. The decision of the
Ecclesiastical Courts in the celebrated Stone Altar case — a
decision which condemned the doctrine of the Eucharistic
sacrifice, came soon after the sentence of Convocation upon
Mr. Ward; and in the summer of 1845 a blow was struck at
Mr. Oakeley's connection with Margaret Street, which in the
event proved to be the dissolution of the last tie which had
kept Mr. Ward tn the Anglican communion. The events
connected with Margaret Street shall be related in Mr.
Oakeley's own words : —
" A blow was struck at Margaret Chapel, and its disorganisation
added to the other events by which the progress of Tractarianism
was discouraged. The minister, who had for some tirae committed
himself to Mr. Ward's view of subscription to the Articles, and who
felt that in the recent vote of the Oxford Convocation a wound had
been inflicted upon himseh which rendered his position extremely
difficult in conscience, resolved upon bringing matters to an issue
by drawing attention to his own published statements, and offering
to abide by the consequences. His challenge was taken up, not
where he had given it, at Oxford, but where he did not think that
it would be noticed, in London. Had he left matters to rest as
they were, no prosecution could probably have been sustained
against him, because the words complained of were published out
of the limits of the London diocese. But his good angel prompted
him to write a defence of his chaUenge, and to publish it in

XIV COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 353
London, which at once gave his vigilant diocesan a handle against
him. A suit was accordingly instituted, on behalf of the bishop,
in the Court of Arches. Fearful of being a party to the profane
discussion of doctrines which he had already begun to regard Arith
somewhat of Catholic reverence, and weary of a strife which he
looked upon as unbecoming in itself and hopeless in its result, he
voluntarily tendered the resignation of his license. The bishop,
however, was not to be propitiated, and refused to accept his
resignation. The suit was actively followed up, and, as the
defendant absolutely declined to put in any plea on his own behah,
judgment went by default. The judge, however, unwilling to lose
so good an opportunity of entering the protest of the highest
Ecclesiastical Court against what were called ' Eomanising opinions,'
pronounced a condemnation of Catholic doctrines seriatim.
" The court gave sentence to the effect that the minister should
be perpetually suspended, except in the event of his retracting the
alleged errors in terms satisfactory to the bishop."
Dr. Pusey, naturally discouraged and pained at the repeated
reverses of the party, owing to the indiscreet action — as he
considered it — of the advanced school, appears to have remon
strated Arith Oakeley for his impetuosity on the occasion. The
following letter from Mr. Ward, written to Dr. Pusey at an
early stage in the controversy — in March 1845 — teUs its oAvn
story : —
" Oakeley is so very much engrossed just now with occupations
connected with the present crisis in his life, that he has asked me
to answer your letter, which he has put into my hands for that
purpose. Of course Margaret Chapel has been to him so thoroughly
his one strongest (in a certain sense we might say only) earthly tie,
that the idea of parting from it (as he said to me the other day) is
like a person losing his nearest and dearest friend or relative : it
was what he had always looked to as the severest trial to which he
could by any possibility have been exposed. It has been a matter of
daily increasing astonishment Avith me how well and quietly he has
borne it, and how wonderfully his poAvers seem to have risen under
the pressure of circumstances to meet the crisis as it came. I think
his two letters to the Bishop of London are the most powerful works
he has ever written. I wish to mention merely as a fact that your
letter has been the one thing which has given him by far the greatest
pain of any circumstance that has befallen him ; and he particularly
desires me to say that he cannot, after it, feel at present so much
disposed as he was to Avrite openly to you, and ask your adrice and
sympathy when beset by public troubles.
" Of course you understand that I am simply Avriting you this
2 A

354 COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT chap.
as a message from him ; as it would be most unbecoming in myself
to express any sort of opinion on the subject. All that I purpose
doing in what remains of space is to put before you one or two
considerations which perhaps have not occurred to you, as illus
trative of the reasons which have made it appear to him a duty
to act as he has acted ; or again, as tending to show that you
have more or less misapprehended what has been his precise
course. "Unless you were on the spot, you could have no idea of the
anguish of mind Avhich has been caused in the minds of many gentle
and humble souls at the idea of his leaving [Margaret Chapel]. My
own knowledge of London folk is of course comparatively very limited;
but I may mention two cases. One lady, a very old friend of mine,
some years older than myself, came back to her home (where I Avas
waiting to speak to her) in such an agony of grief that I thought she
must have lost some very near relation. It was the one thing, she
said, which had made life supportable to her. I may mention that
so far frora having Eoman tendencies, she has the greatest dread of
the idea of going to Eome. Isaac Williams is the writer who
delights her most (next, that is, to Oakeley, and perhaps to New
man), and the very thing which delighted her in Oakeley's ministra
tions was that she received much invaluable practical guidance (as
to keeping Lent, daily examination, etc. etc.), without being annoyed
and bewildered by the introduction of controversy and poleraics.
She is in a very doubtful state of health ; I can quite conceive that
the result of this business may make to her the difference of living
or dying. The other case is that of another lady whom I now know
extremely well (being engaged to be married to her), Avho considers
Oakeley to have been by far her greatest benefactor in the Avhole
world ; indeed, it is her own expression that words would fail to
express the greatness of her obligation to him. Her mind was
originally moulded on a. strictly Anglican model (her father having
been a High Churchman of the old school, and Jeremy Taylor's works
having been the centre of her faith and devotion), and she bears
most express testimony to this (and she has been in the habit of
regular confession to [Oakeley]), that the whole of his training has
tended singularly to discourage any abandonment of her old habits,
or even any party addition to them of new ones ; and that her
present very predominant taste for the early centuries (being pained
by the addresses to St. Mary in the latter) has been strengthened
and drawn out by his whole teaching.
" I mention these two cases as that of persons concerning whom
I Iiave a most intimate knowledge. I believe Eichards could tell you
a great multitude of cases very similar ; while I very much doubt
whether a single instance could be specified which even to the most
prejudiced observer could present the appearance of any one being

XIV COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 355
pressed forward into opinions or observances for which he is not
prepared. " Surely, again, it is hardly correct to think that the pulpit is
the only place in which Oakeley does not put forward (distinct
ively) Eoman doctrine. He avows that he holds it, and there he
leaves it. All his practical works display an anxious deshe to
accomraodate the trath to the existing attainments of his readers
or hearers. "As to the reasons which have induced [Oakeley] and myself
to raake plain statements on the subject, I would suggest (1) that,
beheving as we do, that parts of our forraularies must be most
violently distorted in order to admit our views (as they must, we
contend, in order to admit any definite views), we could not be easy
in our conscience if we subscribed them without publicly proclaiming
the sense in which we subscribe them, and challenging those who dissent
to try the question in the Ecclesiastical Courts if they so please ;
and (2) that, believing that nothing short of full Eoraan doctrine
Aidll meet the wants of raany as they advance in holiness, we think
it a positive duty that such persons should know of others Avho may
be like-minded with themselves, and not be kept back from Avhat
we fully believe to be the trath by an idea of undutifulness to our
Church, or to their instructors in our Church.
" I don't at this moment observe anything else in your letter to
which it is necessary for me, in his behalf, to refer. As a matter
of fact, Mr. B. Noel is precisely in the same position with regard to
license, etc., as [Oakeley] is. [Oakeley] is my authority for this.
"In justice to [Oakeley], I ought to say that as far as such an
one as myself can judge on such a matter, he seems to me perfectly
wonderful as to the sweetness and equableness of temper Arith which
he has taken the whole business. His nights at present are perfectly
tranquil, while he works most energetically the whole day. He
thinks of going for a few weeks into the country in search of repose,
which he so much needs. Perhaps you would kindly reserve any
comment you may have to raake until that period has elapsed, as
any additional trial, not absolutely necessary, must be so prejudicial.
For myself, may I make the same request ? For very diffe'ent
reasons, I am perfectly overwrought with either labour or anxiety
of mind, and shall bo far more able to profit really by any admoni
tion you may wish to address me if you Avould Avait for a few
weeks. . . .
" I may be allowed to say that, as far as my humble judgment
goes, there has not been hitherto so important a crisis in our Church
as this of Marg. Chap. You have literally no idea of the interest
which has been taken. Judge Coleiidge, the Bislwp of lAchfeld, Judge
Patterson, Gladstone, etc. etc. have Avritten to the Bishop in [Oakeley's]
faA'our ; it is not impossible that the Archbisliop of York raeans to do

356 COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT chap.
the same. If you read [Oakeley's] second letter to the Bishop, you
AriU see some very strong expressions from ladies and others of his
flock, which are independent of the cases I have mentioned to you.
If [Oakeley's] second letter comes out (which is not certain) he will
send it to you."
Oakeley's resignation and the decision of the Ecclesiastical
Court took place in the summer of 1845. The Stone Altar
case had been a little earUer. Newman had at last intimated
to his friends that he no longer felt that peace in the Anghcan
ordinances which had so long sustained him, in spite of aU his
misgivings, in the Church of his birth. His final separation
from that Church was only a matter of time. The fetters
which bound Mr. Ward himself to the Church of England were
being one by one unlocked. He scarcely knew it, but it was
so ; and next time he moved they fell to the ground.
He was writhig an article on Blanco White's newly published
life, and Mrs. Ward was copying it for press. In this article the
Chureh of Eome was recognised by him, as it had been for the
last two or three years, as the true Church. Mrs. Ward, to
whom the attitude of an AngUcan who absolutely believed tn
the Church of Eome as the one true Church was a new one,
broke down as soon as she had copied half the article. " I
cannot stand it," she said, " I shall go and be received into the
Catholic Church." His vrife's resolution led Mr. Ward to look
for a moment at his own condition. One glance was enough.
The fetters, as I have said, were unlocked ; he had but to move
and they were gone. He had long held that the Eoman
Church was the one true Church. He had gradually come to
believe that the English Church was not strictly a part of the
Church at aU. He had felt bound to retain his external com
munion with her members, because he beheved that he was
bringing many of them towards Eome ; and to unite himseU to
the Church which he loved and trusted, to enjoy the blessings
of external communion for himSelf, if by so doing he thwarted
this larger and fuller victory of truth, had seemed a course
both indefensible and selfish.
Still he had long looked on his present position as
only a time of waiting, as a season of purgatory, as*'
the painful and laborious seed -sowing, endured patiently
because of the harvest to come. It was years since he had

XIV COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 357
written that restoration of communion with the one Cathohc
Church and the See of Peter was "the most enchanting
earthly prospect on which his imagination could dweU." He
had becorae accustomed to a position simUar to that of the
missionary, who forgoes the happiness of Uring among his
brethren in the faith, often of approaching the sacraments, of
the sustaining and health-giAdng presence of Church hturgy
and ordinances, in order that he may lead strangers to see the
truth, and to enjoy eventually in his company those helps
and blessings which he foregoes for the raoment for theh sake.
He listened to the voice of the Church, beUeved her decrees,
reverenced her saints. It was for him the land of promise ;
but the journey to it, the path of duty which had to be trodden
before he could reach it, had seemed long, and he had resigned
himself to waiting.
Now, however, a change had come. The party for whose
sake he was waiting had swerved from theh course, and
the conditions which justified him in outward separation from
the Church seemed to be gone. The High Church party had
marked its disapproval of his riews. He could not sen'e them
by staying. The English Church called for a sacrifice to its
divinity as a pledge that he was not a Eoman Cathohc. The
leader, whose sanctity and example had been his mainstay in
the Anglican communion, whose peace of ccmscience had calmed
his own difdculties in the situation, had said " this is not the
place for us. We must go hence." The time of nhssionary
labour and of seed-sowing was over. He was free to foUoAV
his own heart, to go in company with those Avho had been true
to their principles to the one Church of Christ. When his
wife announced her intention, he saw at once how the case
stood. " A little sooner or a httle later makes uo difference,"
he said, " I wiU go with you."
Those who have foUowed step by step the struggles
of Mr. Ward's mind, wiU in some measure understand the
neAv world which opened out before him, when he had
realised that it was lawfiU and more than laAAdul for him
to unite himself to the Cathohc Church. It had been a
long and painful struggle, fiUed with new hopes and repeated
disappointments. There had been at first the trial caused by
the inteUectual perplexities of the Anglican position, and the

358 COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT chap.
moral deadness of the establishment of 1830. Then came the
first season of hope from the manly earnestness of Arnoldism.
For a time he was contented and sanguine ; but intellectual
dissatisfaction arose and grew more and more urgent, until it
assumed proportions alarmingly suggestive of the demon of
total scepticism. FoUowing this was the new-born hopefulness
when in 1838 he thought he had found an interpretation of
the English Church which would support htm in company with
Newman and Froude. Then came his gradual disappointment
as the dissipation of the party and the action of Church
authority in the case of Tract 90 showed the unreality of his
new position. His old pain and distress at the characteristics
of Anglicanism returned. It was too painfully proved to be
that very religion against which he had revolted three years
earher, and not the mediteval dream of Froude's Bemains.
Lastly, there was the dawn of the vision of the Church of
Eome as the only realisation of that dream ; the steady and
ever-increasing Ught of this new belief ; the final certainty that
he had at last found the haven he was in search of; and then
the accompanying conriction that though he might see it in
the distance, his call was elsewhere ; that when at last he had
found the answer to his cry for " true guidance in return for
loring obedience," he might only follow the guidance at a
distance, and had not the means of obeying in fuU ! He had
perforce to rest content to endure his chains for an indefinite
time, and to work cheerfully in prison if that was his duty,
refusing, like Socrates, to purchase freedom at the cost of dis
obedience to his conscience.
The prisoner loves to picture, and perhaps even idealises,
the freedom and happiness of those whom he sees outside,
through the bars which confine hhn, enjoying to the full
liberty of life and Urab ; and the true lover's devotion *^nd
enthusiasm are intensified by difficulty and increased by delay.
Mr. Ward, as we have seen, had dwelt for years in heart and
spfrit tn the Catholic Church with the feelings of a prisoner
and the devotion of a lover. He knew its theology, it may
fafrly be said, better than any Cathohc in England. " i^or
breadth, depth, and thoroughness of theological reading and
knowledge," said the great Jesuit theologian, F. O'Eeilly, a
very few years later, "I have never met his equal," He

XIV COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 359
recited its hturgy constantly ; he studied its devotional Utera
ture unceasingly. The existing CathoUc Church had to him
all the romance which days of chivalry have to the youthful
readers of Sir Walter Scott ; and to be a part of her and hve in
contact with her was to him in idea what the imaginative
schoolboy pictures when he longs to cross swords with Brian
de Bois Guilbert, or to witness the mortal combat between the
Black Knight and Front de Boeuf
The Church had to him this charm over and above the deep
intellectual and moral rest and peace which it promised hira; and
none of those who knew hhn accused him of exaggeration when he
spoke of the torture which Protestantism caused him, or when he
described the one week in which he had mixed Arith Cathohcs
and joined in the liturgy at Grace Dieu and Mount St. Bernard
as the happiest week in his life. The "exterior of pohte
indifference," the "cold, cramping, stifling uiuformity," grew
more than ever intolerable. I do not think it is fanciful to
trace a connection between his love of hberty and hatred of oppres
sion, on the one hand, and his love of Catholicism and hatred
of the Anglican system on the other. Freedom, fresh air,
elasticity of mind, these were congenial to his temperament
on physical and mental sides alike. His idea of misery AA-as
being confined in a stuffy room, and he had a morbid dread —
witnessed in his directions to his friends Avith reference to his
burial — of being buried alive. The intellectual torture Avhich
most oppressed his imagination was being bound to submit to
an inconsistent phUosophy. In each case there seems to be
the conception of unnatural cramping and oppression.
He was ready to have a field of action marked out for him,
and to avoid forbidden ground. But in the field allowed him he
required perfect freedom. The qiucksand of Anglican C'hurch
authority stifled hhn. What Avas its basis ? It disoAvned
infaUibUity, yet it claimed obedience. It said "we may be
Avrong," yet it added, " you must think we are right." There
was no finahty in such a position. It left everything unsettled
and a thousand questions unanswered. The idea, on the other
hand, of certain matters decided by authority, in which detaUed
questioning was forbidden because the authority was infaUible,
supported hhn. It marked out his sphere, and left htm
freedom in that sphere. The perplexity of unanswered

36o COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT chap.
questions was avoided by a very sufficient reason why the
questions should be unasked. Agahi, the endless variety of
the hturgical and devotional side of the Church gave hhn
a sense of freedom. The spirit which has allowed free scope
to hundreds of religious orders whose characteristics are
Aridely different ; the spirit which allowed him to choose his
own special patrons, his own special prayers, his own congenial
form of meditation, in place of following the uniform external
prayers of the Estabhshment ; that spfrit which, as Lord
Macaulay has reminded us, leads the Cathohc Church to
enroll the originahty of enthusiasm in its ranks, as contrasted
Arith the spirit which leads Protestants to reject fresh accesses
of religious life as dangerous and foreign to it, — all this
savoured of life and variety, and attracted one whose life was
so exuberant, and whose character was so many sided. There
was richness in the Catholic soil on which he throve, though
he drew hard and fast — more so than many other Catholics —
the Unes which marked off forbidden ground of speculation or
forbidden fields of action.
Before actually taking the final step he circulated among
his acquaintances a letter to a friend, setting forth in character-
isticaUy dry and logical form the skeleton and formal argument
on which a movement bound up with the fullest expression of
his whole nature was intellectually defended by him. The letter
was couched in the following terms : — •
"Rose Hill, Oxford, \Zth August 1845.
"My dear  , I proceed to execute the design I men
tioned to you in my last, of putting on paper the considerations
which have induced me to resolve on uniting myself to the com
munion of the Eoman Catholic Church, notwithstanding some
passages in the Ideal which seem to express strongly an opposite
intention. Any one who AriU take the trouble to read carefully
what I have said on the subject — especially in the last chapter of
my work — will see plainly that I have grounded the (alleged) duty
of remaining in the English Church on two principal circumstances :
— 1st, that there is nothing to hinder any one in our church, who
raay please, from holding all Eoman doctrine ; and 2d, that all
those who, being in doubt' of the English Church's claims, have
resolved on living a stricter life in her communion, have found an
ever -increasing strength and support in her ordinances. (See
especially from p. 567 to p. 570). Now it is plain that both these
circumstances have ceased to exist. That the latter has ceased to

XIV COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 361
exist no one, of course, who knows what is so generally knoAvn at
present [about Newman's state of mind] will question. That the
former also has ceased to exist is no less certain. If the bishops,
speaking authoritatively, ex catliedrd, be the official exponents of the
mind of the Church of England, the point has been ruled against
the ' Eomanisers ' long ago : if (as I myself have always thought)
the Ecclesiastical Courts hold that function, the doctrines I hold
have been equally condemned. Not to lay stress here on the
decision in Mr. Oakeley's case (though I must for myseff consider
that decision final, notwithstanding the absence of defence on Mr.
Oakeley's part, if no one takes up the gauntlet, and challenges a
fresh decision, with the intention of making a formal defence, but
not to lay stress on this decision), in the ' Stone Altar ' case, a case
most energetically argued on both sides, and most deliberately
decided, the doctrine of the mass was expressly condemned ; and if
that doctrine be not a most essential and vital part of Eoman
doctrine, what can be so considered % It will be urged in reply
that laymen are not ordinarily obliged to sign the Articles, and
that, taking these decisions at their worst, they in no way interfere
with a person holding all Eoraan doctrine in our Church's com
munion, so only we hold no preferment or ecclesiastical station.
The utter futility, however, of this reply wUl be raade obvious, by
reciting the grounds on which it appeared to me so important that
the holding of Eoman doctrine should be permitted in our Church ;
and that my grounds were such as I shall proceed to mention Avill
be very evident on a perusal of my work.
"It appeared to me, on the one hand, that all the arguments
which, so far as I knew, were adduced in disproof of Eoman doctrine,
proceeded on an assumption which, if valid at all, is equally valid in
disproof of Theism itself (See e.g., pp. 482-508). On the other
hand, I had been placed by God in our own comraunion, and in
that comraunion had received instraction in great Christian prin
ciples ; as, first of all, through the agency of Dr. Arnold, so after
wards, in a very far greater degree, and with very far less adraixture
of error on the one side and perplexity on the other, from Mr. New
man. I knew nowhere of the recognition of a higher idea of
Christian sanctity than I found recognised in our own Church ; and
all those Avhom I so deeply revered, so far as I then knoAv, found
(as I just now observed) our ordinances the more trustworthy in
proportion as they lived a stricter life. On such grounds as these
to remain m our communion seemed the plain unmistakable dictate
of modesty and sobriety ; while, on the other hand, I should have
been so absolutely puzzled at being called upon to riew the Eoman
Church as authoritatively teaching error that, had I obliged myself
to do so, it would have been necessary by raain force to divert my
mind from speculating on theological subjects at all.

362 COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT chap.
" In such circumstances it Avas natural, or rather inevitable, to
fall back on the sort of theory contained in my work. I was led,
I say, naturally to such considerations as the foUoAving : — ' The
progress from error to truth cannot be made in one leap : persons
cannot, on the mere word of an external authority, embrace at once
a whole class of ncAv doctrines, foreign, and at first even repugnant,
to their moral nature. The doctrines again to which I allude are
but accessories to the central verities of the Gospel — not those
verities themselves — and will follow in due time, in proportion as
those verities are rightly believed, heartily embraced, and fed on
by prayer and contemplation. The English Church, then, at pre
sent, Avitnessing as it does those truths in its formularies, but
silent, to say the least, on these accessories, does seem a providen
tial ordinance adapted to prepare minds by degrees for the doctrine
and communion of Eome.' Almost every page of my work, I
might say, will show that this is the view I there advocated.
"That such a course of conduct, if avowed, was a course con
sistent with perfect honesty and integrity cannot, I conceive, be
(questioned. As to subscription to the Articles, I have no wish
to enter again into a worn-out controversy ; but I believe as
firmly as ever that no consistent person, of whatever opinions, can
subscribe all our formularies without offering the greatest violence to
the natural meaning of language ; and considering that the existing
Church, in some shape or other, is necessarily the imponens, however
grievous a burden such formularies must be to any community, I
do not think any one need scruple in offering that violence, whether
with the view of reconciling the Articles to Eoman or the Prayer-
book to Lutheran opinions, so long as he says plainly, in the face
of day, what sense he does attach to the words, and remains Arith
out interference from constituted authorities. But in my case my
opinions were not only avowed, — they were most conspicuously
(many say with even an ostentatious parade) put forward. I called
on ' High Churchmen' of various grades to combine in the object
of impressing more deeply on the minds of our people the great
truths to which I just alluded, and which they all profess, and
willingly staked the truth of my own further opinions on the
result. I was, and am, most undoubtingly confident that nothing
is more necessary to dispose people fully for the reception of all
Eoman doctrine, when brought before them, than a hearty, un
suspicious, and laborious appropriation of that portion of truth
plainly witnessed by our Church. I might here, then, allude to
the additional reason for giring up the hopes I entertained when I
wrote my work, which arises from the undeniable fact that ' Anti-
Eoman High Churchmen ' have shown no sort of willingness (quite
the reverse) to unite with what are called ' extreme ' persons on
any such terras. But my present purpose is merely to point out

XIV COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 363
how completely the decision of the Ecclesiastical Courts has
destroyed whatever there might otherwise have been of plausibihty
in the theory I maintained as to the office of our Church.
" I say, then, that hoAvever plausible such a theory might have
appeared so long as the holding of all Eoman doctrine was allowed
to be an open question among our clergy, not a word more need be
said to prove how utterly extravagant it became, frora the moraent
that aU the instractors of our people were bound to renounce some
part of that doctrine. It requires certainly a very enthusiastic
hoper to imagine that our Church could really be made extensively
avaUable for the object supposed, when every one who entered on
her ministry, or received a degree at either University, was called
upon to renounce that object, as inconsistent Arith the claims of
religious truth.
" I have made it, I trust, sufficiently plain that, supposing me
still to agree in every sentiment I expressed in my work, nothing
which 1 have said constitutes any defence for remaining in my pre
sent position. My defence was grounded on two main supports : both
these supports have given way. But I am bound to add that most
firm, unmoved, and, as I believe, immovable as is my conviction
of the main principles advocated in the Ideal, there is one inci
dental opinion, of considerable importance to the present question,
on which ray views have undergone a change. To show that this
change is rather in the application of principles than in principles,
allow rae to quote a passage from the last chapter in my Avork.
' He who is thus disciplined, who feels deeply his exceeding blind
ness, helplessness, and ignorance, and the existence Avithout him
of an unknown and unspeakably precious reality, AriU eagerly
believe and appropriate whatever is placed before him in the course
of nature, professing to be a voice from, or an economical represent
ation of, that reality. Again he will have fully learnt, etc. etc.
. . . From all this it will follow, as a primary axiom, that . . .
should his parents have brought him into connection Avith some
body professing to teach with authority, so long as he is able to
repose unchanged confidence in that body, it is that very oracle for
the conveyance to him of eternal traths, before which duty requires
him to bow. Should the case be otherwise in a heathen country,
he will be able to discriminate Arith precision between the right
and the wrong in traditionary superstitions, and avUI thus eUcit
confirmation of his faith, and accessories to it, even out of
corruptions of the truth. But rather would he anticipate that
there is some horae in Avhich this moral reality may have a secure
rest and lodgment, that it may be dispensed to men according to
theh needs ; or at least he would be draAvn with a most eager and
spontaneous longing towards any body Avhich would profess to be
that home. And those marks, in any society, would especiaUy

364 COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT chap.
attract his view Avhich appear to be most kindred in their nature
and origin to eternal truth itself ; for instance, to use ecclesiastical
language, unity in doctrine throughout all ages ; sanctity, catholicity,
its proclaiming one and the same message to all lands ; aposiolicity
its referring back to some signal interference with the visible course
of things from the world beyond the veil' (pp. 510-511).
" The principles here expressed, if sufficiently considered, would
haA'e prevented me, I think, from supporting myself in the English
Church on the theory which I have been drawing out ; and I should
add that Mr. NcAvman took an early opportunity of expressing to
me his disapprobation of that theory. Observe distinctly that I am
not speaking of those who (like myself, indeed) are unable to recog
nise any definite teaching whatever in the English Church, but who
(unlike myself) find in the Eoman doctrines, as apprehended by
them, things which |(I do not say merely call for an enlarged
measure of faith, but which) offer actual and serious violence to
their moral nature ; what is their duty is a matter altogether distinct.
Much less am I saying a word in disparagement of the principle I
have so earnestly advocated throughout my work, viz., that it is the
duty of all persons to accept heartily, conscientiously, and practically,
in the first instance, the religious system they are taught. But I
say, in my own case, that I think I was called upon either to look
on the Church of England as my teacher, or to unite myself to the
communion of the Church of Eome; and not to devise theories
under which I might look on one Church as my teacher, while I
remained in communion with another.
" Now it is a considerable time since Mr. Newman's writing and
teaching (however edifying I found it in all other respects) altogether
failed to commend itself to me as being in the least exponential of
any teaching of the English Church. Indeed, during that time, I
might have seen that I was deceiving myself in thinking that I did
simply follow his teaching ; for, whereas he strenuously disavowed
any authority except as interpretative of the voice of the English
Church, — when I was unable to accord him that claim, I was unable
to follow his teaching in that very particular which he himself
represented as constituting his only right to teach.
" I should add, too, that additional thought and experience have
much increased my sense (which before, indeed, was very great) of
the extreme importance of a liring and energising dogmatic system.
If the claims of such a system long remain unrecognised among us,
I hardly know how to express, without appearing to exaggerate,
how great are my fears as to the miserable errors into which even
well-intentioned and right-minded persons may be led in the course
of inquiry and speculation. Nor need I say how serious an addition
this constitutes to the many other grave phenomena which seem
clamorously to enforce on us all the duty of revicAring very care-

xiv COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 365
fully, and weighing very accurately, the reasons adducible in defence
of our present position. Nothing, indeed, can be more pregnant
with mischief than any step rashly and lightly undertaken, however
good in itself. For my own part, though my present convictions
are not consciously OAring to any external impulse, but are the
natural result of my OAvn thought and observation, it seems, never
theless, a duty to make plain to others as well as to myseff that they
are stable and genuine convictions, by refraining frora any irrevo
cable step until there may be time for my intentions to become
known wherever they would be really cared for, and for any argu
ments or remonstrances to be duly weighed. At the same time I
should be hypocritical if I affected to think it likely that my deter
mination will be altered by anything I shall hear said against it. —
I remain, my dear  , most sincerely yours,
" W. G. Ward."
Mr. and Mrs. Ward were received into the Cathohc Church
in September 1845 by Father BrownbiU, S.J., in the Jesuit
Chapel in Bolton Street, the precursor of the present Farm
Street Church. They had come up to London for the occasion,
and had taken lodgings in Half Moon Street. News, howeAcr,
of the day and hour at which they were to be received had
reached Oxford, and very free expressions of University opinion
found their way to Half Moon Street on that morning. The
new converts had gone to the church early, had made their
general confession to Father BroAvnbill and receiA'ed com
munion, and on their return found the breakfast table literallj'
covered with squibs and more serious expressions of disapproval
from FeUows and undergraduates. Among others Avas a parody
of a well-known poem commencing thus : —
" 0 Wardie, I believed thee true,
And I was blessed in so beliering.
But now I own I never knew
A youth so base or so deceiving."
Mr. Ward enjoyed the pasquinades thoroughly, and the
more serious remonstrances did not trouble him. The gain of
peace and rest, and of much more Avhich a Cathohc only can
understand, placed hhn beyond the reach of any feelings of
regret from personal misunderstandings. His friend Father
Whitty came that day to luncheon, and describes hhn as full
of the rehef Avhich confession had been to him, and of the tact
displayed by Father BroAvnbiU in making easy a reriew of the

366 COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT chap.
whole of his past life, and anticipating such parts of the con
fession as might be difficult. " And he showed such knowledge
of human nature," he remarked. " He told Mrs. Word to
make a retreat and to practice certain austerities : but he told
me to unbend my mind as much as possible, and go to the play
as often as I could."
They returned to Eose HiU, Oxford, and hved in thefr
little cottage there on a very slender income for nearly a year.
Father Whitty paid them a risit there in the summer of 1846,
and met Oakeley, who had followed Mr. Ward within two
months. " Their whole tone of mind and perfect shnpUcity of
piety," he says, " reminded me of sketches one reads of the
early Christians. They were perfectly full of the great cause,
of the Church, of working for England's conversion, and seemed
to care not at all for mere gossip or private matters."
Mrs. Ward officiated as cook — not always with great
success. On one occasion a friend had sent them a haunch
of venison, and they at once summoned their friends to partake
of so unwonted a luxury. Mrs. Ward studied deeply the
mysteries of venison- cookery in her book of receipts, and
decided on a venison pasty. The science was, I believe,
mastered completely, but the art, alas ! would not come without
a few rehearsals, and the first attempt proved a failure. The
Neophytes were unable to eat the venison at all. Mr. Oakeley
was the first to taste it, and on being asked by the anxious
cook what it was like, said it reminded htm of a cold wet
blanket. The company had to be content Arith a rather
meagre supply of bacon and nothing else. But they were too
much absorbed in conversation on the stirring events of the
year to notice such things. The idea of a great enterprise, a
great mission, seems to have been very virid among them all.
They spoke of themselves after the manner of the Jacobites of
the last century — as " those who went . out in '45." Divine
office was said daUy by raany of thera ; and Father Whitty
recalls the recital of vespers after luncheon in the coffee-roora
of the Angel Hotel at Oxford, in which he and Mr. and Mrs.
Ward perforraed the functions of the alternate choirs.
The new converts were confirraed by Cardinal (then
Bishop) Wiseman at Oscott, and at one time thought of taking
up thefr residence in the neighbourhood permanently. Ulti-

XIV COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 367
mately, however. Old HaU was determined upon, in the vicinity
of the College of St. Edmund, near Ware, the lineal descendant
of the English College at Douay, and at that time the principal
ecclesiastical seminary in the south of England. Father
Whitty's connection with the CoUege paved the way to an
arrangement, and ultimately, with the consent of Bishop
Griffiths, the Vicar Apostohc of the London District, and Dr.
Cox, the President of the College, Mr. Ward laid out a legacy
of a few hundred pounds tn building a smaU house — which
developed later into a good-sized country-house — Arithin the
park in which St. Edmund's CoUege is situated. Pugin was
the architect, and it was built in the Gothic style, so far as this
was consistent with Mr. Ward's resolute insistence on windows
of large nuraber and goodly size, as avenues for light and fresh
air. At Old Hall Mr. Ward was able to enjoy to the full the
Catholic liturgy, which was carried out in great perfection in
the College chapel. His friend Oakeley went to the CoUet^'e
itself to prepare himself for priest's orders, and they Avere able
to contrast the rest and peace of their new position with thc
constant storms which they had encountered — and, no doubt, to
a great extent raised — at Oxford. Father Wliitty Avas a fre
quent and beloved companion to the men Avhom he had so
much helped in thefr moveraent towards the Church. Oakeley
said to hira a year or two after his conversion : " The Avay in
which the Catholic Church has asstmUated us converts is by
itself a proof of her divinity. Consider what a Church must
be which could tame and keep in order tAvu men Idee Ward and
myself ! Further proof is needless." I )r. Pusey, on the other
hand, was very gloomy at the secessions and the collapse of
the Movement. Mr. Ward used to relate Avith great dehght hoAV
I'usey woefully remarked, " It is very sad. And aU Avho have
left us have deteriorated so much — aU, that is, Arith two ex
ceptions. One exception is Newman, whose natui-e is so
beautiful, so perfect, that nothing, not even going over to Eome,
could change him. The other exception is Ward. Ward
had got so bad already that with him further deterioration Avas
impossible." Mr. Ward in the years Avhich foUoAved resumed Ms inter
course with many old Oxford friends who, in the intense ex-

368 COLLAPSE' OF THE MOVEMENT chap.
citement of pubhc feeUng, had been estranged frora him during
his last years of Anghcan lUe. Bitter feelings gave place, Avlien
the strife was over, to genial recoUections of earlier days. Dr.
Goulbourn, the present Dean of Norwich, was one pf those who
thus renewed an old intimacy. The ice was broken by a
characteristic passage at arms, and a hearty laugh on both
sides, which did more than long explanations could have done
to restore good fellowship. Goulbourn wrote proposing a
meeting, and naturally assuming that Mr. Ward's Anghcan
orders remained vahd — on the principle once a priest always
a priest — addressed his letter " The Eev. W. G. Ward." Ward's
reply was as follows : " My dear Goulbourn — I observe that
your letter is addressed to the Eev. W. G. Ward. I believe
that the usual rule of courtesy is that you should address a
man, not by some title which you think he ought to assume,
but by the title which he himself claims. Acting on this
principle, I have addressed you as the Eev. E. M. Goulbourn.
If, however, you consider that you should address me by the
title which you think I ought by rights to claim, by all raeans
let us both act on this principle. You will then be perfectly
justified in addressing rae as the Eev. W. G. Ward. I, on the
other hand, shall be obliged to address you as E. M. Goul
bourn, Esq." ^
At this point — of great poverty in external circumstances,
but of ample compensation in all those deepest joys of faith
and domestic love which were all in all to him, we must leave
Mr. Ward for the present. The slight proceeds of hterary and
teaching work, and his wife's small fortune, were all he had to
look to ; and though he was heir presumptive to a large pro
perty, his uncle was not an old man ; he might not improbably
marry, and so the nephew's chances of a larger share in this
world's goods were very vague and uncertain. Mr. Ward had
counted the cost, however, and when fortune came he cared
not to avail himself of his position as a large landlord, or of the
ordinary avenues for ambition which wealth gives. Years
later, when he had been compeUed to take a somewhat more
active share in the responsibilities and the natural amenities of
his position, he looked back to the days of obscurity, when he
^ I write down this letter from memory. The Dean of Norwich confirms my
recollection of its substance.

xiv COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT 369
taught theology to the students at Old HaU, as the happiest
time of his life — far happier than the days of his prominence
and influence at Oxford, and far happier than the time of
comparative publicity which followed his resignation of the
Professor's chair. Of this time he wrote to Cardinal Wiseman
as follows : — " To you I am indebted for seven years far
happier than any which I ever before spent, and far happier
than any others are ever likely to be on this side the grave. To
you I owe it that during those years I have been rescued from
the dull and wearisome routine of secular Ufe in the world, and
allowed to bear a part, however indirect, in one of the very
noblest works which can possibly occupy the intellect or
engage the affections, — the training of ecclesiastical students
for the fulfilment of their high vocation."
With the thought of this time, and of Avords so character
istic of the one idea which filled his life, I may bring to a
close this study of the early career of William George Ward.

CHAPTEE XV
THE OXFORD SCHOOL AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT
I HAVE now to endeavour to point out some of the bearings of
the Oxford Moveraent on religious thought in England. And
I wish at starting to insist on a fact-; — to which Mr. Ward's
share in the Movement calls special attention — that it em
bodied, in however rough and untechnical a form, great
phUosophical principles, in addition to its ecclesiastical and
theological tendencies. The history of the High Church party,
its position in the Established Church, the bearing on its theory
of Anglicanism of recent ecclesiastical legislation, the results in
the Cathohc Church of the conversion of Newman and his
followers, the logic of facts as to the respective claims of the
Churches which the history of Tractarianism has worked out,
— such questions are doubtless those most obviously connected
Arith the results of the Movement ; but they are not all, nor
are they the most important. The phUosophical basis of Tract
85 is more important than the theological subtleties of Tract
90. Newman's treatment of the Eule of Faith touches the
springs of religious thought, while his reconciliation in Tract 90
of the Thfrty-nine Articles with Catholic tradition, however
ingenious and serriceable, and however forcibly it appealed at
the time to Enghshmen as a practical contribution to the
polemic of the day, was comparatively ephemeral. It touched
a state of things and a condition of public opinion now uni
versally acknowledged to have been marked by the utmost
prejudice and ignorance. It dealt with infinite tact and
ingenuity with an artificial riew of the Anglican Church
which has now crumbled away, or is fast crurabUng beneath
the continued and unanswerable criticism of generations.

chap. XV THE OXFORD SCHOOL 371
Very few persons now claim for the Articles the unquestion
ing reverence fashionable in 1841. Most educated men would
be ashamed of exhibiting a tithe of the ignorance displayed by
the Hebdomadal Board z& to the history of the Enghsh Ee
formation. What NcAvman only ventured to say with cfrcum-
locutions and precautions which brought on him the charge of
doAvnright dishonesty, is now openly assumed by Churchmen
without provoking comment. Tract 90 moved the whole of
England, and Tract 8 5 passed absolutely unnoticed ; and yet,
while Tract 90, for the Churchman of 1889, is enthely obsolete
and slays the slain, the principles of Tract 85, its suggestions
as to the nature of Faith, as to the kind of evidence admis
sible for a Eevelation, and the nature and detaUs of revealed
trath itself, are ever being, consciously or unconsciously, made
use of in varying and newly-adapted forms in the Agnostic
controversies of the present day.
The instance I have chosen is but a sample. NcAvman's
Avriting throughout faUs into two distinct divisions, corre
sponding to two classes of the results of the Movement. His
Avritings for the occasion, and deahng with the practical and
immediate issues of contemporary theological controversy, cul
minated in the lectures on the results of the Oxford Movement,
preached a few years after his reception into the Cathohc
Church. Events have advanced since then, and, as I shaU
presently point out, the' lectures do not entirely coirespond
to the changed condition of the Anghcan Church. On the
other hand, the theory of Faith which sloAvly shaped itself
in the Tracts and Parochial Sermons, which was more ex
clusively developed in the Oxford University Sermons, and
Avhich was yet further amplified and elaborated in the Gram
mar of Assent (pubhshed hi 1870), hA'es and AviU ever Uve
as a permanent contribution to the phUosophy of reUgious
behef A simUar distinction holds in Ward's writings, and in his
case the contrast is yet more important. His attitude in the
controversies of the time differed, as we have seen, from New
man's. The skilful tact with which the latter dhected minds,
aUowed for ignorance and prejudice, vrrote as much as would
be acceptable, touched on the persuasive side of new or start
ling truths, Avas wanting in iMr. Ward. And in .the existing

372 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
state of things such quahfications were essential to the success
ful prosecution of the Anghcan theory of the Moveraent. Mr.
Ward was for ever stating general principles and extrerae con
sequences, when the requfreraents of the case called rather for
the veihng of one or other. Consequently his Avritings on the
affafrs of the day soon gained the character — frora men who
had Enghsh common sense and Enghsh love of the concrete
and innocence of logic and abstract principles — of being (Mri
and extravagant. But his contributions to the phUosophy of
the Catholic Movement incurred no such charge. They con
tained — both in the Ideal and in the long essay on " MUI " in
the British Critic — the germs of that philosophical defence of
the intuitional theory of morality, and of the import, functions,
and nature of conscience, of the characteristics of necessary
truth' and its bearing on Theism, which later on received such
ample recognition on aU hands, and which MjU himself declared
was not likely to be surpassed by " any future champion " ^ of
the intuitional metaphysics.
I am led thus expressly to caU attention to the principles
and ideas which the Oxford Movement impressed upon Enghsh
thought, partly by the fact that this aspect of it has been
resolutely ignored by members of the Liberal schooL They
have treated it as exclusively a Movement in the direction of
" sectarianism " in the objectionable sense of the word. They
have insisted on certain distinctive developments of the prin
ciples of the Movement, rather than on those principles them
selves. The conceptions, for example, of conscience as the
echo of God's voice, of the Church as the exponent of con
science and of the Christian revelation, are fundamental to the
scheme proposed by Newman and Ward. DetaUs of dogma,
the priesthood, the sacramental system, apostohcal succession,
are only duly understood as resting on' this basis. External
rites are prescribed and outward forms are deemed to be channels
of grace, because the Spfrit of God speaking through His chosen
Oracle has so decreed. Their rejection means the rejection of
the great conception of the risible Church on which they rest.
What would be trivial in itself becomes sacred by the appoint-
1 " I believe that in answering [Dr. 'Ward's arguments] I am answering the
best that is likely to be said by any future champion " [Mill on Samilton, fourth
edition, p. 337).

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 373
ment of God — as meaningless signs on paper are aUowed, by
consent among men, to represent words, and to convey thefr
deepest thoughts. The Liberals have, in theh account of the
matter, divorced these two elements, and have consequently
been able to make light of a Movement of which they ignore
the essence.We have already seen this in the case of Dr. Arnold. " A
dress, a ritual, a name, a ceremony," " objects so pitiful that if
gained ever so completely they would make no man the Aviser
or the better," — such are the terms which adequately describe
his conception of its work. In our own day. Dean Stanley
has propagated the same idea. " It is curious," he Avrites, " to
look back upon the trivial elements which produced so much
excitement. . . . The apostolical succession, the rerival of
obsolete rubrics, together with one or two Patristic tendencies,
such as the doctrine of reserve and of mysticism, were the
staple of their teaching." ^ So, too, Mr. Mark Pattison A-ieAvs the
Movement as exclusively sectarian. He considers that NcAvman's
" great gifts were expended " on a very " narrow basis of phUo
sophical culture " — that he " assumed and adorned the narroAv
basis on which Laud had stood 200 years before. All
the grand development of human reason . . . was a sealed
book to him." Yet " there lay a unity, a unity of aU thought,
which far transcended the mere mechanical association of the
unthinking members of the Cathohc Church ; a great spiritual
unity by the side of which all sects and denominations shrink
into vanity." ^ Professor's Jowett's estimate of Tractarianism,
given in the Appendix to this volume, is somewhat similar in
its tone. In each case there is a resolute attempt to charge
the Tractarian teaching with narrowness and formahsra, and
with a bigotry which refused to see any truth or merit in Unes
of human thought which did not in fact issue in conclusions
identical with its own.
Far different is Mr. Ward's accoimt of his OAvn aims.
He speaks in the British Critic expressly of the " real though
invisible unity existing between all truly reUgious men," what
ever their external creed may be ; and he characterises the
attempt to make them understand the nature of this bond of
union as " the one inteUectual effort of aU the most important
' Edinburgh Revieu; April 1881, p. 311. '^ Pattison's Memoirs, p. 210.

374 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
at the present time." ^ That this breadth of sympathy, arid a
corresponding influence over and above its immediate effects on
the state of ecclesiastical parties, did in truth attach to one
aspect of the Oxford Movement, I shaU endeavour presently
to show. One further point must be explained at starting — in refer
ence again to the criticisms of the Liberal school. All three
of the Avriters afready referred to allude to the unacquaintance
on the part of Newman with German writers, — critical or
phUosophical, — and argue hence in disparagement of the intel
lectual elements which the Movement involved. In comment
ing on this strange confusion between scholarship and erudition
on the one hand, and vital and deep phUosophical thought on
the other, it must be allowed that, viewed in the light of a
complete scheme of religious philosophy, the failure of the
school to keep pace with modern Bibhcal criticism and German
phUosophical hterature was a defect ; but it was a defect almost
inseparable from the nature of the Movement. The Oxford
school did not inaugurate merely an intellectual school of
thought. They started what was in some sense a popular
movement, and had necessarUy to insist on general principles,
without the qualifications in thefr exposition which an exact
phUosopher would have given. Broad and unqualified state
ments, then, were required in order to make them intelUgible
and effective for the mass of minds.
The Movement was, in this point of view, a reaction
against an exaggeration of the importance of modern Bibhcal
criticism. The Liberal school treated it as all-important. It
was thefr watchword and warcry. The Tractarians raised
an opposite standard. They maintained that criticism was
ever changing, that true rehgious phUosophy was perraanent.
They insisted, perhaps disproportionately and too unreservedly,
on the permanent elements. But such defects are inseparable
from any popular school of thought. Eadicalism canonises
reform. Conservatism canonises the sacredness of- established
order, and those fine and minute concessions which the phUo
sophers on each side must make to the other, do not form a
part of the bold outline of its programme in either case. This
does not touch the inteUectual depth of the Movement. Kant's
^ British Critic, No. LXV., p. 206.

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 375
Critique of Brctctieal Beason gives deep reUgious truths, though
it does not approach the sphere of Bibhcal criticism, and New
man's teaching may weU do the same ; and it is curious that
Dean Stanley, in the course of his disparaging remarks on
NcAvman's depth of inteUect, never once aUudes to the Univer
sity Sermons, in which the philosophy of his Oxford teaching
was concentrated.
It is an interesting comment on the criticisms of ]Mr._
Pattison and Dean Stanley ahke — so far as they refer to the
want among the Tractarian thinkers of detaUed acquaintance
with German metaphysicians — to note that the one reaUy
deep philosophical thinker — as distinguished from mere students
of phUosophical systems — to whom Oxford has given bfrth
since the modem growth of German studies, was himself not a
wide or constant reader. We find the foUowing passage in the
Life of Thomas Hill- Green : — " Though he was constantly re
proaching himself with his ignorance of phUosophical literature,
he never overcame his native repugnance to wide reading. He
liked, as he used to say, to ' browse ' amongst books ; and it was
by brooding over the great sayings of phUosophers, rather than
by traversing their systems in detail, that he seemed to get
most cf his intellectual nourishment. His mind was reflective,
not accumulative. He always seemed to be strengthening his
hold upon certain fundamental truths, aud this tenacity arose,
not from prejudice or the force of habit, but from a growing
sense of their reasonableness. Probably no amount of ex
traneous reading would have materially affected his ultimate
convictions." ^
Though, however, the absence of vride German reading
in no way affects the depth or soundness of the Oxford phUo
sophers, it does, of course, Umit the claims of their system. A
complete treatment of rehgious thought needs the serA-ices of
the Bibhcal critic and the student of the liistory of phUosophy,
as well as of the pliilosophical thinker and the theologian. The
absence of specialists in these departments, then, does hmit and
explain the general tendencies of the Movement, as being
rather in the direction of certain living ideas keenly appre
hended, and acting as hving forces, than as a complete
system of fundamental phUosophy and apologetics. But
1 See Memoir of T. H. Green, p. cxxv. Longmans.

376 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
this is only to say that it was what it called itself, — a
Moveraent. With these words of preface, I address myself to the task of
considering, firstly, some of the effects of the Movement on con
temporary controversy between the Churches ; and, secondly,
the part it has taken, directly and indirectly, in the larger play
of rehgious thought in England, and in the battle against
modern unbehef And in speaking of the latter results as the
more important, I am only on a much smaller scale doing what
those do who prefer to estimate the effects of Christ's teaching
by the new ideas and powers which He spread over the whole
world, by their ultimate and far-reaching results on Jew and
Gentile, than by the actual condition of the Christian body in
the year 100 A.D.
With regard to the first question — the bearing of the
history of the Movement on the contest between the Churches
— it has been treated so exhaustively by Cardinal Newman in
his Lectures on Anglican Difficulties, that I shall not, dwell
upon it at length. The history of AngUcan doctrine, from the
Gorham case to the Pubhc Worship Eegulation Act, has been
one long assertion of the principle for which Arnold contended,
and a denial of the principle which NcAvman maintained. It
is ParUament and the Privy Council which ultimately deter
mine what doctrines and practices are admissible within the
Established Church, whether they do so directly or by delegat
ing thefr work to speciahsts. Bishops who, as Bishop PhUpotts
did, have attempted to assert their prerogative as exponents
of Anglicanism have been overruled. The Erastianism which
it was the object of the Movement to overthrow has, beyond
question, corae forth triuraphant.
Let this be remembered for what it is worth ; and I do
not think that it has been denied even by those who regret it.
There are many, however, who take up another ground. High
Churchmen at the present day, whUe deploring the degree in
which the doctrine suffered to be taught by English clergymen
is determined by the State, maintain, nevertheless, that the
cause of the Movement has advanced sufficiently to enable
them to maintain their position. They deny Newman's con
tention that the AngUcan Church after 1845 reasserted
unmistakably that Protestant character which was congenial to

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 377
it. They point to the numerous and ever-increasing party
which holds all Catholic doctrine — ^the Mass, purgatory, the
Eeal Presence, not in the vague sense of Keble's early lines,
but in the definite sense of the later modification of them,
which allows of the Dirine Presence in the host whUe it yet
remains tn the priest's hands. If Newman had only waited,
they maintain, he would have found the persecution of his
party to be only a temporary phenomenon. It is now tolerated
so completely, and has gained so acknowledged and firm a foot
ing in tho Establishment, that High Churchmen may Avell take
heart. If Newman had seen what we see he would never, they
say, have left the AngUcan Church.
This view, however plausible at first sight, seems to me to
fall absolutely on a somewhat closer consideration of Newman's
principles on the one hand, and of the causes of the later High
Church revival on the other.
We have already seen that Newman's view concerned the
Anglican Church as a Church. It was not the adA'ocacy of
certain doctrines as matters of private judgment, but as taught
by the Church. It was a principle of authority. The Angli
can Prayer-book and the recognised Anglican diAdnes repre
sented the teaching of the English Church by a tradition which
had been handed down through the early Fathers of the Church
from the Apostles. The bishops of the English Church were
the normal Avitnesses to this teaching ; the control of the State
over doctrine, devotional formula;, and ritual was an invasion
— it was not akin to the genuine spirit of Anghcanism.
In all this we see two leading ideas of the rightful nature
and work of the Anglican Church — opposition to Erastianism,
and the authoritative insistence on certain definite doctrines as
essential. And the modern High Church rerival seems to me
to result not from the triumph of, but from the absolute defeat
of, both these conceptions. Of the first I have already spoken.
Newman's attempts to rescue Anghcan doctrine from the
hands of the State have resulted in one continual reassertion of
might against asserted right. Bishop PhUpotts tries to act on
NcAwnan's principle in the Gorhara case by attempting to dis
allow heretical views in a clergyman. The State overrules
him, and such riews are declared admissible in the Estab
lished Church. Hampden was branded as a heretic by the

378 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
Newmanites ; the State makes him a bishop. The old
Ecclesiastical Courts could claim in some sense to represent
spfritual authority and Church tradition, as declared by the
bishops ; the State makes brand-new courts, and cuts the line
of succession, which, though imaginary in its effects, was yet
the assertion of a principle. Further, amid these reassertions
of Dr. Arnold's conception of the Church as the servant of the
State, coraes the withdrawal of all religious tests in ParUament
itself, and a consequent extension of the hberal principle from
which Arnold himself would have shrunk with horror. Fifty
years ago Arnold wrote : " The whole constitution of our
Church wiU be utterly' confounded if Jews or any other
aA'owed unbehevers in Christ are admitted into the legislature.
For then Parhament cannot be the legislature of the Church,
not being an assembly of Christians ; and as there is no other
Church legislature to be found under our actual constitution,
the governraent of the Church wUl be de jure extinct, and its
members wiU have to form a new one for themselves." In
the event the tie between the Church and the civU legislature
has proved stronger than Dr. Arnold supposed. It has proved
easier for the Anghcan Church to accept a non-Christian tribunal
as the ultimate court of appeal in matters of doctrine, than to
accept Newman's conception of its spfritual independence, and
shake itself free frora State control So much for the defeat
of the first of Newman's principles.
And the defeat of his second principle is closely connected
thercArith. If the only authority finally binding in matters of
doctrine is a secular tribunal in which Christianity itself is
not an universaUy dominant beUef, it becomes practicaUy
impossible — as we see it has actuaUy proved to be — to give
doctrinal matters the importance which Newman claimed for
them. It is true that there is a considerable party which holds
the doctrines in question, but the history of the Movement, and
subsequent history, has entirely prevented them from being
held as the teaching of the Anglican Church. The new party
and the Newmanites agree only in the accidental manner in
which a Jew and a French CathoUc may agree to go to the
play on Sunday. The one does it because he thinks Sun
day a common day, the other because he thinks it a special
hoUday. So the Newmanite held the doctrine tn question as

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 379
being the teaching of the Church of England, and viewed those
who thought otherwise as heretics ; while the very plea of
modem High Churchmen is the comprehensiveness of the
Enghsh Church, which tolerates them on the same principle
on which it practicaUy tolerates Socinianism. NeAvman's hope
was to restore the Cathohc ideal by degrees, to expel heresy,
to reinstate once more the spiritual brotherhood of Anghcans
by uniform doctrine. The attempt was made, and it signally
failed. It would take a very enthusiastic hoper to look for its
success now. The bond among Anglicans is becoming purely
external. Persons holding the views of the Bishop of Lincoln
claim to belong to a Church which tolerates the almost posi
tivism of Canon Freemantle. Behevers in a sacramental
system have not only to endure direct opposition to what they
hold most sacred on the part of thefr accredited pastors, but
have to accept bishops who do not beheve in the priesthood,
and concurrently to recognise that those invisible bonds, Avhere-
by the framework of the Church is knit together, — orders and
sacraments, which in the Catholic view depend on the intention
of the administrators and the accurate performance of certain
external rites, — may fail to exist where behef is such as to
afford no security that the conditions wiU be carefuUy complied
with. All this might be endured for a time as long as the
hope remained that it was only teraporary, and that the
Established Church would ultimately be restored to unity of
doctrine ; but what is to be said when High Churchmen accept
as ultimate a state of things in which external ordinances,
sacraments, and offices are in the hands of those who are not
in thefr view true Anglicans at all ? If Anglicans and the
members of the Estabhshed Church are separate bodies, and
are recognised as such, Newman's view of an Enghsh Church
man, whose bishop is normaUy his pope, and of the EstabUshed
Church as potentially Anglican, has faUen.
The great spread, then, of Cathohc practices and certain
Catholic doctrines has taken place at the cost of the loss of
the dogmatic principle, and of the essential features of a sacra
mental Church. Never could one-tenth part of the views of
the present High Church party have been tolerated on the
ground that the English Church teaches them, and that dogma
is, in its riew, a sacred and important thing. A ruling power

38o THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
whose spirit is that of indifferentism declares all dogma to be
unimportant, and High Churchmen may hold what they like,
not tn rirtue of any special approval on the part of the
EstabUshed Church, but because that Church does not either
enforce or condemn any doctrinal system. There has, hideed,
been a triumph on the part of some of the persecuted minority
of that memorable 13th of February 1845, but it is not Pusey
and Keble who have triumphed; it is rather Stanley and
Jowett. I now come to the question — What is the bearing of the
history of the Oxford Movement upon those great problems
concerning religious knowledge and religious truth which agi
tate the world of English thought at the present day ? Mr. J.
A. Froude, in his fascinating recollections of the Oxford Move
ment, speaks of the scepticism which is fast leavening aU
classes of EngUsh society, and maintains that its leading
principles were first brought before the English popular mind
by Newman himseU. He says, " But for the Oxford Move
ment scepticism raight haA^e continued a harmless speculation
of a few philosophers.'' I make a claim for the Movement,
equally important but opposite. It did not, I maintain, sow
the seeds of scepticism ; it saw that they were already sown.
Its phUosophy did not create, it only recognised frankly the
new difficulties. Its object — so far as it disseminated scep
tical views — was not that of the poison which seeks to destroy
hfe, but of the inoculation which gives disease under such
favourable conditions that death is averted. Briefly put, the
claim I make for the philosophy embodied in the Avritings of
Newman and Ward is that they in some degree anticipated
and prepared for the two great assaults on Christianity which
our own generation has witnessed and is witnessing. The
first assault comes from modern BibUcal criticism, and at first
sight destroys the force of the old-fashioned Christian &y\-
dences, while it makes havoc among traditional beUefs respect
ing the Old Testament. The second assault is a rcehaufi of
Hume's philosophy, — reinforced by the theory of evolution. It
denies that the human faculties are competent to deal at all
with anything beyond the world oi phenomena; it proposes to over
throw the old argument from design, which even a sceptic like
John Mill had recognised as forcible, by doing away with final

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 381
causes ; it meets the argument from conscience by an ingeni
ous theory of an instinct, derived from the experiences of the
race in process of evolution, prompting us to do that which is
best for its preservation. These two lines of thought —
destructive Biblical criticism and Agnosticism — are, I suppose,
by common consent, the great forces which are undermining
Christian belief in this land ; and it is no smaU claim to make
for the Oxford school that they in some degree foresaw them,
and sketched those principles on which they axe, in fact, being
met by rehgious thinkers at the present time.
The principles to which I refer, so far as they were de
veloped at Oxford, are to be found most fully in NcAvman's
University Sermons. Starting avowedly on the broad lines of
the a priori philosophy of Coleridge, and adopting Butler's con
ception of the nature of the moral proof avaUable for religious
belief, Newman brought the principles of these Avriters into the
sphere of practical religious life. He appUed them to the
difficulties presented by all belief in the supernatural, dcA'elop-
ing and adding to them with an imaginative power and a
wide realisation of their bearing to which thefr originators
had never attained. His exposition was, however, throughout
suggestive, after the manner of a poet ; and he never emulated
the more philosophical style of his precursors. Ward, AvliUe
adopting and identifying himself with Newman's philosophical
teaching as a whole, devoted his own powers rather to co
ordinating and systematising its principles, than to applying
them in detail. He addressed himseU to this task notably in
his essay on MUl's logic. He grouped systematicaUy the in
tuitions which the a priori phUosophy presupposed, both in
the inteUectual and the moral order, and he insisted on the
Pyrrhonism which must result from thefr denial. On the
intellectual side he fixed chiefly on two points for crucial
experiments — trust in memory, and belief in the uniformity
of nature. The former was invalid, or it justified the principle
of intuition ; the latter was invalid, or it justified certainty in
the absence of experimental proof Both writers afterwards
dcA'eloped, with some modifications, thefr Oxford teaching, —
Newman in the Grammar of Assent and Ward in his Essays on
Theism. Here, however, I shall consider their teaclhng less in
the light of a technical and exact phUosophy, and rather in its

382 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
effect as a hAong force on the Oxford of fifty years ago ; in the
bold outUne which impressed itself on the disciples of the
Movement ; and as a source frora which later writers drew,
though they did not all identify themselves with its CathoUc
development. Let us for a moment recall the cfrcumstances of the time.
Mr. J. A. Froude has described them vividly in his fascinating
Short Studies. It seems to have been a time of unquestioning
belief and moral apathy.-^ There was, according to the judg
ment of competent Aritnesses, far raore lack of zeal among the
clergy than Mr. Froude allows ; but the fundamental beliefs of
Theism and Christianity were never questioned by the average
Churchman. They were perhaps not deeply enough realised
in many cases tn all thefr consequences on life to suggest diffi
culties. Anyhow, the questioning spirit had not arisen, and
men whose faith was unreal were content to leave the argu
ments of Paley and Campbell as a fancied foundation for
beliefs which rested only on unquestioned tradition ; whUe
the more earnest had yet to learn the true analysis of their
religious convictions. The Bible, likewise, was accepted by
our grandfathers as an ultimate court of appeal, sanctioned by
the authority of their parents and instructors. It was to
them unquestionably the Word of God, whence they must
derive the detaUs of thefr creed.
I have already described the school which first disturbed
this condition of reUgious thought in Oxford — the Noetic school
of Whately, to which Ward for a time adhered. The fashion
of questioning — why do we beheve this or that — was raised
by them. They were, as we have seen, an outgrowth of the
spfrit of the great French Eevolution. Every belief in thefr
hands had to be questioned, and its proof put to the most
searching tests. If it faUed to satisfy their tests it was to be
discarded. Tradition, if it did not rapidly collect and express
its elements, and recoA'er and produce its title-deeds, — nay, if it
could not bring proof to bear that the very title-deeds them
selves were not forged, — was set aside as worth nought. AU
opinions started on a footing of equahty, just as aU men were
naturally equal. The immediate victory of the strongest
argument was decisive ; the unexplained and unsorted mass of
^ See Froude's Short Stiidies, vol. iv. p. 238.

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 383
past arguments and proofs were taken as worth nothing.
Ancestral achievement was dismissed, as an inteUectual claim
for consideration, just as it had been dismissed as a poUtical
and social claim, and the victory was Arith the strong.
This spirit was let loose on the Enghsh society of sixty
years ago. Among rehgious men it was not aUowed the abso
lute free scope and unreserved application given to it by MiU
and Bentham, but still even among the Noetics, Whately,
MUman, and Arnold, no clear principles were insisted on
limiting its action. Historical and biblical critics were called
to their aid. General culture and the habit of studying aU
schools of thought formed an integral portion of their gospeL
Philosophers of every age, opinion, and country were welcomed
as affording wider knowledge and giving broader sympathies.
Such, I say, was the gospel they preached at a time when
Oxford had little knowledge of German critics and German
philosophers ; and undoubtedly this gospel — in spite of its
baneful results on the deeper phUosophy of religious thought
— eventually bore fruit in the Arider learning and improved
scholarship of the Oxford of Jowett and Pattison.
Newman, from the wonderful insight into the tendencies of
a principle which never deserted him, and Ward from personal
experience of the results of the questioning habit, saw whither
the liberal school was going. The most dangerous questions
they raised referred especiaUy to two subjects, the method of
interpreting the Bible and the order and value of the CAddences
for Christianity and Theism ; and these Oxford writers saw
that once these questions had genuinely kindled the mind
of their generation, once they had been riridly reahsed in
their consequences on the rital beliefs of religion, they would
refuse to be set aside until Christianity had paid its last
farthing in answer to them. The interpretation of Scripture
led back to the inspiration of Scripture ; this provoked
historical criticism ; this in turn led to questions as to the
dates of the BibUcal documents ; what had been deemed con
temporary eridence would be impugned as really a later
growth ; the study of other religions would suggest an analogy
between the legends and miracles of Buddhism and Brahminism
and those of Christianity ; eastern myths of obriously human
origin would appear to be contained in what had been supposed

384 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
to be the very word of God; the excited imagination Avould
have a new and wholly human riew of Christianity opened upon
it, and the shock of finding what had been deemed irrefragable
to be filled with difficulty, — a mine of debatable questions ; of
finding the force of Paley's alternative destroyed, and the possi
bUity suggested that the facts and miracles of Christianity were
established neither by fraud nor by satisfactory evidence, but
by those human forces which have so often originated a legend
or myth ; — the shock, I say, which all this was calculated to
give under such circumstances might destroy faith far and wide.
So too with the eridences for Theism. Though Christi
anity is in one sense absolutely dependent on Theism, still the
manUestations of God in revelation and in the history of the
Jews is, in fact, intimately connected in many minds with
thefr assurance of the first great truth of natural religion. The
questioning tendency, while it unnerved Christian belief and
impugned the accuracy of the Old Testament history, would
urge its rictims, in their doubt and discouragement, to look
narrowly at the details of current natural theology. The
metaphysical conception of causation would be questioned as
being beyond the human ken ; the argument from design would
seem to prove a limit either in the power or in the goodness of
the Creator ; — in a word, the whole of religious truth would
have its foundations unsettled, and to raany would appear at
best an open question.
What was to stem this dangerous current or to lessen its
disastrous effects ? Newman saw that there were two forces at
work in the questioning spirit — the imagination and the reason ;
and in opposition he used weapons which appealed to both. The
shock of novelty which would be a part of the force of such
thoughts, if they came for the first time as the instruments of
a destructive philosophy, would be dhninished if Newman first
recognised and suggested them to his disciples as the world's
view of Christianity, and as a plausible view ; while at the
same time he put before them a deeper and truer analysis than
that to which they had been accustomed, of the foundations of
Theism and proofs of revelation, — a view which was not touched
by adverse arguraents where these were sound, and which was
independent of them where they were, U not sound, at least
sufficiently plausible to confuse the mind and weaken some of

XV- AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 385
the accustomed supports of behef Such a method as this is
apparent, especially in his sermons on Faith and Eeason. In
some sense he went ahead of the Liberals, and raised at once
many of the great issues of the modem Agnostic controversy.
The two great principles which the Oxford phUosophers
insisted on — in stemming the sceptical current — were the
necessarUy changeable aspect of all science, and of historical
science inclusively, on the one liand, and on the other the
existence of a perraanent basis in truly rehgious men for
Theism and Christianity, outside and beyond those traditional
arguments which would be thrown into confusion or destroyed
in their single-handed effectiveness by modern criticism.
The first of these principles avUI perhaps be brought into
relief most clearly by considering the case which foreshadowed
the raodern conflict between science and revelation more than
two centuries ago — the Galileo case. We have, roughly speak
ing, three distinct stages in the scientific view of the relatiAe
functions of earth and suu. First, there was the simple testi
mony of our senses, accepted by philosopher as Avell as peasant,
that the sun went round the earth. The Avorking hypothesis of
plane astronomy was accepted as a hteral fact by the astronomer
of the eleventh century, and the simple statements of Scripture
seemed likewise in harmony with this view.
Then carae the first eleraents of the new vicAv which New
ton later on fully accounted for and explained. In the time of
Copernicus and in the time of Galileo it had scarcely got further
than the conception of the reversal of the relative action of
earth and sun. The earth went round the sun, and not the
sun round the earth. The sun was the abiding centre, and the
earth was one of several planets which revolved their prescribed
course around it.
Last of all came the reahsation of the princii^le of gravita
tion, with all its consequences ; of the fact that the sun is no
more stationary than the earth had been supposed to be ; that
the whole solar system, of which the earth was so smaU a part,
was but one of a myriad other similar systems ; that if the
sun was spoken of as stationary it Avas only relatively to one
particular course of the earth's motion ; that both sun and
earth were moring rapidly in company, and in obedience to the
common attraction of other distant systems.
2 0

386 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
Here, then, is a specimen of the changeable character of
scientific statements — changeable not from any avoidable weak
ness, and not as being faulty in themselves, but as expressing
different stages necessary to be gone through on the road
towards truth, and yet none of thera being final or exact expres
sions of truth. " Novelty is often error," says Newman, speak
ing of this very matter, " to those who are unprepared for it,
from the refraction with which it enters into their concep
tions ; " and a part of this refraction consists in viewhig such
statements, which are relative and incomplete, as absolute and
final. One who, having at first identified his faith with the
literal interpretation of the language of Scripture in the matter,
afterwards accepted absolutely the Copernican theory as it
existed in Gallileo's time, might have his trust in Scripture
shaken in a way which later scientific discovery would show
to have been unwarranted. His primd facie view is that there
are two alternatives, as absolutely true statements — that the
earth stands and the sun goes round it, or that the sun stands
and the earth goes round it. Science has established, he thinks,
the second, and Scripture in implying the first was wrong. But
when such a man gradually understands the further develop
ments of scientific inquiry on the subject, — when he reahses
by degrees how far from absolute truth is his second alternative,
how complex in reality are the motions of both sun and earth,
— he comes to see that an absolute and final statement was im
possible for the writer of Holy Scripture, and that a statement
relatively true was all that could be looked for ; and that the
statement conveying his meaning in language intelligible at the
time was in every respect the best and most desirable.
Newman, in his memorable Oxford sermon on " develop
ments," carries the principle of the "relativity" of scientific
statements still further. He urges that the metaphysical con
ception of what motion is has to be determined before we can
reach absolute truth on such a subject. " Scripture," Newman
writes, " says that the sun moves and the earth is stationary ;
and science that the earth moves and the sun is comparatively
at rest. How can we determine which of these opposite state
ments is the very truth tiU we know what motion is ? If our
idea of motion be but an accidental result of our present
senses, neither proposition is true, and both are true ; neither

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 387
trae philosophically, both true for certain practical purposes in
the system in which they are respectively found ; and physical
science will have no better meaning when it says that tbe earth
moves, than plane astronomy when it says that the earth is-
StUl." Here we have the most extreme statement of the principle
that scientific statements are at a given stage relative and
incomplete. And the practical application given to this
principle by the Oxford teachers was the lesson of patience and
trast in the face of the apparent injury done to traditional
beliefs, or traditional arguments for belief The statements of
science are not final ; the analysis of belief is often not final.
The belief that Scripture does not err, and the belief that
science leads to truth, should stand both unshaken ; and yet
the sense in which Scripture is in a given case to be under
stood, — the nature and extent of the truth Avhicli a giA^en
passage is intended by God to reveal — and the full analysis of
the fact which science is discovering, ma}' be necessary before
their harmony is apparent. And these factors are often
incapable of attainment for a long time, and sometimes AvhoUy
incapable under our present conditions. But this being so.
it is obviously, in many cases, short-sighted and unphiloso-
phical to reject accustomed beliefs and accustomed proofs of
religious truth, on the sole ground that science at a given stage
appears to discredit them. Just as the sense that the scientific
method is leading to truth should be infinitely deeper than tiie
acquiescence at a given stage in scientific statements as final,
so should the sense that religion and its proofs are trustAvorthy
in essence be infinitely deeper than the trust placed iii the
accuracy and finality of the form in which they are in certain
cases stated. As science advances, and the verbal analysis of
rehgious ideas becomes more exact, apparent discrepancies dis
appear ; but in the meanthne religious belief is not to be
given up, but to be more deeply contemplated, with a aIcav to
distinguishing its essence from its accidental form.
There have not been wanting practical illustrations in recent
times of the Avisdom of this counsel. Dr. Wace and other
Avriters have recently reminded us that the scare caused to
orthodox believers by the Avritings of Baur and Volkmar, the
fear that the old idea of contemporary evidence on Avhich Paley

388 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
depended was disproved, and that the " myth " theory of the
miraculous foundation of Christianity was incontestably estab
hshed, has now been allowed even by sceptics to have been very
much exaggerated. Critical science, with its constant momentary
dograatisra, entered on another course. The Ttibingen school has
been discredited. It doubtless did good work, and was a valuable
factor in the progress of critical science, but its conclusions are
now rejected. Large portions of the synoptic gospels are now
allowed, even by sceptical critics, to have been the work of
eyewitnesses of the events described, or of friends of eye
witnesses. So, again, evolution was supposed to have over
thrown the old design argument. But a little patience and
thought has shown the case to be otherwise. The present
Bishop of London, and Dr. Fisher in his Grounds of Theistic
Belief, have stated that argument with greater force from the
evolution standpoint than Paley ever did in its old form a
hundred years ago. With good reason, then, did the Oxford
school warn us against an over-hasty abandonment of positions
identified with our accustomed religious life, against yielding to
the intemperate misinterpreters of the decisions of science, or,
in Newman's words, " violently handling the text of Scripture,
misinterpreting it, or superseding it on a hypothesis which we
took to be true, but which turns out to be untenable."
However, the other term of the arguraent has to be borne
in mind. Science does bring about a change in the analysis
of belief, and may discredit particular arguments which have
depended on a false analysis. The passage from Josue,
though its earUer interpretation had not received the blow it
was first taken to have received, is certainly explained differ
ently now that Copernicanism is established. Advancing
criticism is undoubtedly modifying much of the traditional
interpretation of Scripture. This is natural and inevitable.
It would be strange to suppose that great research, further
analysis, further raising of questions, should not in some degree
affect explicit statements of knowledge on any subject. The
Oxford philosophy recognised this too, and it brought out
another aspect of the controversy. The arguments, moreover,
of natural theology and of current Christian eridences, from the
very fact that they were expUcit, did in their existing form re
present a given stage in the analysis of belief, just as scientific

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 389
statements represented a given stage in the progress of science.
Advancing criticism and the fuller grasp of religious truth and
its basis might, in a given case, weaken their force. Paley's
arguments might be weakened ; CampbeU's arguments might
prove less cogent than our forefathers had been taught. What
then was to be the antidote for those whose imagination wa5
oppressed and whose reason was confused by criticisms which
might indeed prove unsound, but which might prove sound.
Plainly religion raust have some more permanent support
than this ever -changing meteor -Uke natural and eridential
theology could supply. Something fuller, more permanent,
more sustaining, less vulnerable, was needed, both to give the
believer patience while critical questions righted themselves,
and to support him when criticism actually broke doAvn some
of the supports to which he had been accustomed. The
Oxford philosophers addressed themselves to the task of
pointing out this "something." Their task was in some
respects complicated — as I have already said — by the popular
nature of the Movement. A complete, finelj'-draAvn, religious
philosophy would, by its very delicacy of structure, by those
constant reservations and qualifications which are indispensable
to most philosophical statements, have proved inadequate to
the work. It would not have seized the imagination of young
Oxford, or have stemmed the torrent of Liberal enthusiasm.
On the other hand, the Liberal movement too — the reflection
as it was of the general spirit spread by the radical phUoso
phers, the Mills, Bentham, and the London and IFcstmimtcr re
viewers — had in it a great deal that was draAvn on broad
lines, and Avithout philosophical accuracy ; and so far it could
be opposed by a broad statement of the truths it ignored.
The Liberals urged the truth that tradition often contained
much that was mythical ; the NcAvmanites answered that it
always contained something that was true. The Liberals
insisted on the necessity of questioning each step of proof
before you could be sure that your knowledge Avas accurate ;
the NeAvmanites pointed out that unless first principles are
unquestioned, neither Liberals themselves nor any one else
possess any knowledge whatever. The Liberals looked with
suspicion on a faith which seemed primarily a matter of senti
ment and emotion. Eehgious liberals set about proving

390 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
Christianity by a logical train of deductive reasoning. The
NcAvmanites saw that the chain must snap, that a link would
be found unsound, and that more reasons and less logic would
do the work much better. The Liberals dwelt on exphcit argu
ments ; the Newmanites on the inductive proof from the history
of the human heart and the history of religion — a proof felt as
a body to haA'e far greater strength than the attempts at stating
it could express, much in the same way as our conviction that in
tercourse Avith our fellows reveals the existence of minds external
to our own, infinitely transcends in force the reasons we can
give for thinking so. The Liberals insisted on evidence from
fact, a posteriori ; on evidence avaUable in the law courts, con
vincing to an impartial juror ; the Oxford school pointed out
that the answer of the Christian message to the need of the
human heart, and its actual achievement in the moral elevation
of mankind, were a priori proofs and presumptions in its favour,
which made it reasonable for one who believed in Providence
to accept Christianity on evidence which would not satisfy
one who neglected to consider these presumptions. The more
religious Liberals were not ready to probe the grounds for
Theism after their accustomed method for testing the truth of
a belief ; the Newmanites held that this reluctance arose uncon
sciously from the irreligious tendency of their principles ; that
the necessary questions would in the end be asked by the religious
as well as irreligious Liberals, and would have to be answered
as the Agnostic answers them. Newman himself, moreover,
forestalled the Agnostic statement that the human mind has no
faculty by which it can recognise the existence of an all-holy
Creator, by calling attention, with subtle power of psychological
analysis, and by striking deep into the heart-springs of human
nature with weapons of imagination and reason alike, to the
shadow of the Divinity revealed in conscience. He insisted on
the presence of God in man's heart, alike as a fact of which a
religious man may be conscious in himself, and as an undeniable
and startling phenomenon, and in the wonderful history of Juda
ism and Christianity. It was, he maintained, a phenomenon
whose significance increased in proportion as it was dwelt on.
It testified, by the persistency of its manifestations, by the calm
conviction of those who have experienced it, and by the fruits it
has brought forth, that a Eeahty has been forcing its way into the

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 391
human mind, and graduaUy revealing itself more and more clearly ;
and by these same tokens it gave the he to the suggestion that
a mere complication or evolution of human feelings could
account for an impression so deep, so constant, so dfrect, of the
presence and action of an all-holy Euler and Judge.
Once more the Liberals held that when the process of probing
and analysing the grounds of belief was at fault in satisfactorily
estabUshing a doctrine, the doctrine was to be discarded ; the
Oxford school, on the other hand, held that the body of
religious influences was in possession, and that the faculty of
analysis was more likely to be partly and temporarUy at fault
than deep religious impressions and convictions to be ground
less. Consequently, one school said, " discard if you cannot
prove ; " the other, " retain untU it is proved you must discard."
Finally, while the Liberals waxed eloquent on the necessity
in all cases of scientific proof, of testing and sffting, of eliminat
ing that mass of emotion, tradition, predisposition, which is
responsible for the thousand prejudices we see around us, the
Newmanites pointed out that there might nevertheless be prac
tical certainty without scientific analysis. Prejudice as a
frame of mind had distinctive notes, smd so had certainty.
Scientific analysis was not indispensable for the latter, nor was
its absence an unfailing sign of the former. A man may be
conscious that he is unprejudiced, and may even be conscious
of knowledge in many cases, without being able fully to give
his reasons. He may knoAv enough for practical purposes long
before his knowledge is scientific in form.
This in truth was the essential difference Avhich NcAvman in
sisted on. The Liberals were treating of the science of evidence,
the Oxford school of the art of religious knowledge. A carpenter
has knowledge enough of the nature of Avood to cut it, to plane it,
to piece it together, though he may not Icnow those principles of
statics and dynamics which govern his operations. Probably if
he began to regulate his movements by scientific calculations, he
would be for a time less precise ; his scientific proofs would at
first leave elements out of consideration, of AA'hich his practised
hand instinctively takes account. I remember a friend of
mine, a good practical workman, trying to measure a wall by
trigonometry. He brought out his theodolite, measured its
distance from the base of the wall, observed the angle, did his

392 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
sum, and made out that the wall was four mUes high. If he
had measured it in the ordinary Avay he would certainly have
been more exact. Yet the trigonometrical proof, when
accurately done, was absolutely scientific, and would save much
trouble. He had made a mistake in the sum. Simple
measurement was, untU his science was perfected, a safer road,
though a less scientific, to truth.
So, too, when his science has reached perfection it may give
the carpenter short cuts. He may carry his loads more easUy
when he is thoroughly acquainted with the principles of the lever.
The scientific architect will instruct hira with advantage as to the
distribution of weight in building. Still that practical knowledge
of the nature of wood — what strain such a bit will endure, Avhat
wood Avill expand with damp, what wiU not, what is suitable
for panelling, what is good enough for a common table — these
commonplaces he knows without knowing the scientific reasons
for them ; and he rightly has no fear that science will ever
make him think differently, though it may teach him more,
and may enable him to express more fully and exactly what at
present he only knows experimentally. But while he remains
in ignorance of scientific proof — or even while he is in process
of learning some of it — he abides by his present informal
eridence and acts upon it.
The Oxford school applied these general principles to
reUgion. Mankind had, they maintained, real, though not fully
and scientifically expressed, evidence in the great broad facts of
the history of the people of God and of the Church, such facts
as no sane critic can question, and in facts learnt from their
own moral experience — if they obeyed their conscience, — of the
possibihty of knowing God, and of the truth of Christianity.
To reject the testimony of conscience in the individual and in
the continuous history of holy men, and to reject the worth of
the Testimonium animce naturaliter Christiance, because such
proofs could not at once be resolved into scientific form, was
unreasonable. These great facts, confirmed in their weight by
the actual working of Theistic and Christian behef, were a great
presumption not to be ignored, that if a perfect science of reUgi
ous evidence should ever be possible, it would correspond in its
results with the practical behef of Christians. These presump
tions, based as they were to a gxeat extent on the experience of

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 393
the moral nature, must pre-suppose a certain state of the heart
for their full appreciation ; and the temper of mind proper to
the ascetic Christian was, as we have already seen, insisted on as
a necessary condition to their being felt in their fuU weight. But
given right dispositions, the Oxford teachers maintained that a
religious man acted reasonably in resting on these presumptions,
in preserving the spirit of faith, and remaining in a peace un
touched by the constant revolutions in the detailed view of
facts which scientific progress necessarily entailed. Thus was
theprmf^/acie plausibleness of Agnosticism stemmed ; and thus
was preserved some at least of the authority of sacred instincts
— once protected by traditional reverence, but now in danger
of being swept aside wholesale as unreasonable sentiment.
Enough has already been cited frora Mr. Ward's Avritings
iUustrative of the Oxford teaching as to the evidence for God's
presence in the consciences of holy men. I may here quote,
as an instance of the line of argument I have sketched,
the words of one of the Oxford school who did not become
a Catholic, but who has preserved and embodied in beautiful
language some of the religious philosophy of the MoA-ement.
The present Dean of St. Paul's, in his stirring and powerful
lectures on the Psalms, sums up the significance of that
wonderful portion of the sacred Scriptures in the following
passage, which deals directly with the iVgnostic position : —
"I am surely not saying too much," he Avrites, "in asserting
that nothing in kind like this, nothing in any Avay comparable to it,
is to be found in the noblest and highest examples of any other
ancient religious language. We know Avhat there Avas in the world
besides ; where do we look for its counterpart ? The Psalms stand
up like a pillar of fire and light in the history of the early world.
They lift us at once into an atmosphere of religious thought which
is the highest that man has ever reached ; they come Avith all the
characteristic affections and emotions of humanity, everything that
is deepest, tenderest, raost pathetic, most inspiring, along with all
the plain realities of man's condition and destiny, into the presence
of the living God. I am justified in saying that in that stage of
the world's history this is absolutely unique. I am now only
stating it as a fact, however to be accounted for. Christians
account for it from the history in Avhich the Psalms are em
bedded, and by the light and guidance from above implied in
that history ; and what other account can be given I find it hard
to imagine. That such thoughts, such words, so steady and

394 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
uniform in their central idea, so infinitely varied in their forms of
expressing it, should have been produced in any of the nations
which we call heathen, is to me absolutely inconceivable. That
they should have been produced among the Hebrews, if the
Hebrews were only as other nations, is equally inconceivable. But
I want only to impress the fact, one of the most certain and event
ful in the history of the world. . . .
" Are we not constantly told that the songs of a people refiect
its character ; that a religion, in its idea of God, reflects its wor
shippers ? What sort of character is' reflected in the Psalms ?
They come to us from a people like their neighbours, merciless and
bloody, yet they are full of love and innocence and mercy. They
come from a people whose deep sins and wrong-doing are recorded
by their own writers ; yet the Psalms breathe the hunger and thirst
of the soul after righteousness. They corae from a race still in the
rude childhood of the world : yet they express the thoughts about
God and duty, and about the purpose and reward of human life,
which are those of the most refined, the gentlest, the most saintly,
the most exalted whom the ages of the world have ever seen, down
to its latest.
" The question is asked in these days. Is God knowable ? The
answer depends on a further question. Whether God can be
Imown by man depends on whether we have the faculties for know
ing. ... Is there in human nature such a faculty, separate from
the faculties by which we judge of the things of sense and the
abstractions of the pure intellect, but yet a true and trustworthy
faculty for knowing God — for knovring God, in some such way as we
know the spirits and souls, half-disclosed half-concealed under the
mask and garment of the flesh, among whom we have been brought
up, among whom we live % Can we know Him in such a true sense
as we know those whom we love and those whom we dislike ; those
whom we venerate and trust, and those whom we fear and shrink
from % The course of the world, its history, its literature, our
everyday life, presujipose such knowledge of men and character ;
they confirm its existence and general trustworthiness, by the
infinitely varied and continuous evidence of results. The question
whether there is such a faculty in the human soul for knowing its
Maker and God — ^knowing him, though behind the veil ; knovring
Him, though flesh and blood can never see Him ; knowing Him,
though the questioning intellect loses itself in the thought of Him,
— this question finds here its answer. In the Psalms is the evidence
of that faculty, and, that with it man has not worked in vain. The
Book of Psalms is like the fact of the production, by the existence
and exercise of a faculty in man's nature, of vast results, such as a
great literature, a great school of painting, a great body of music.
If it is not a proof and example of this power of knovring, I cannot

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 395
imagine what a proof can be. The proof that the liring God can
be knoAvn by man is that He can be loved and longed for Arith all
the freedom and naturalness and hope of human affection. The
answer whether God has given to man the faculty to know Him
might be sought in vain in the Vedas or the Zendavesta. It is
found in the Book of Psalms."
One more point on which Mr. Ward especiaUy insisted
must be noted, which again seemed to anticipate the criticisms
of such writers as Mr. Huxley and Mr. Spencer.
Conscience being that faculty whereby dfrect rehgious
TcThowledge became possible, — a principle which gave the Ue to
the fundamental statement of the Agnostics that we have no
faculty for knowing God, — and the testimony of the purified
heart being one of the indispensable roads to the recognition of
Christian truth, it was evident that Christianity must exhibit
itself in fact as the perfection of moral truth and of the
natural law. Hence, distortions of Christian truth — Lutheran
ism, Calvinism, Manicheism — must be expeUed with aU their
works. Christianity could not identify itseU Avith Avhat
conscience condemns. It could not be at war with those
very laws of morality of which it claimed to be the highest
expression. If its conquest Avas due to its absolute sanctity,
its supremacy raust cease if it alUed itseU Avith hnmorahty ;
and so Mr. Ward urged, in the unmeasured language I
have already cited, the bearing of these heresies on the moral
law, and their disastrous effects on the Christian character.
The purification of external Christianity, its constant cleansing
and recleansing by the religious spirit, the subserrience of
all its rites and doctrines to the one great good, — personal
holiness, — this is the lesson we learn in every page of the
Ideal. Here again Ave find, as I have said, an anticipation
of and an answer to the objections of modern Agnostics. Mr.
Huxley makes capital out of the excessive formahsm and
ritualism of the Jews. Mr. Cotter Morison insists on the
unpredictable forces in the Christian spfritual hfe, which must
lead, he says, to fatahsra, and to the neglect of the struggle
for personal sanctity. He accuses Christians of exclusive
attention to ultimate salvation, and of disregard of daily duty
on earth provided that this one object is ensured. Mr. Herbert
Spencer and others dwell on the supposed hnmorahty of many

396 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
Christian doctrines — as the Atonement, or original sin, or
eternal punishment. Without supposing that these attacks
were answered in detail by Mr. Ward, they were at least
anticipated by him and to some extent guarded against.^ He
pointed out that there was a purifying spfrit within the Church
which was at work in ridding it of what was really open to
attack on these points ; that where such attacks were not
based on a misconception of facts, they were attacks on human
perversions of Christianity, and not on its essential teachiiig
and spirit.
I have referred early in this chapter to the charge brought
against the Oxford leaders that they were unacquainted Avith
historical and biblical criticism, and even if the facts of the
case have been somewhat overstated, there is undoubtedly some
truth in the charge. The deficiency was partly due, as I have
explained, to the fact that the Movement was a revolt against the
exaggeration of the claims of those sciences among the Liberals
StUl, while this explanation is sufficient as far as it goes, and
whUe on the whole it may have done its work the more
successfully from a disproportionate insistence on neglected
truths and principles, the defect in question does, no doubt, limit
its claim as a philosophy of religion. Critical and historical
sciences have their place in the estabUshment of the facts of
Christianity. We could ill afford to dispense with the labours
of Bishop Lightfoot or Dr. Westcott. Weiss's Leben Jesu in
Germany has been known to do a work for religion among
critical minds which Newman's somewhat mystical philosophy
of faith could not do by itself Among Catholics the place of
biblical criticism has certainly been ever recognised, even if it
has not of late years been pursued by as many writers of genius
as other departments can boast. The fatal error of assuming
that Christianity could be conclusively established without
reference to those phenomena in the human soul and in the
history of the chosen people, which afford a presumption for,
and explanation of, the alleged facts of Christian history, must
not be allowed to lead, by reaction, to the neglect of the critical
side. Mere presumptions, though they may lessen the improba
bility of miraculous facts, nay, may in some cases give them
^ In the Appendix I have collected several passages from the Ideal bearing on
some of these questions.

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT z<yi
antecedent probability, do not dispense with the necessity for
a posteriori proof And Newman, though aUowing the force of
Hume's argument against mfracles to a greater extent than
many would aUow it, did not dweU on this particular aspect of
religious philosophy. His sharp distinction between the
insight of the spiritual mind and a purely rationalistic view of
religious evidences — between Faith and Eeason as he expressed
it, — deeply as it cut, fully as it satisfied some men, had in
other cases to pay the penalty of its incompleteness. Tins must
not be left out of account in estimating the results of the
Movement. Arthur Clough, J. A. Froude, Mark Pattison, here
are names which at once arise of men of mark and force whose
faith was weakened and destroyed instead' of being fortified
by the Movement.
Mr. Froude states the impression produced on him thus.
Newman said, he tells us, that "historicaUy the proofs [of
Christianity] were insufficient, or sufficient only to create a
sense of probability. Christianity was apprehended by a
faculty essentially different. It Avas caUed faith. But what
was faith, and on what did it rest ? Was it as if man
kind had been born with but four senses by which to form their
notions of things exteinal to them, and that a fifth — sight — was
conferred on favoured individuals, which converted conjectures
into certainty ? I could not tell. For myself this Avay of
putting the matter gave me no new sense at aU, and only
taught me to distrust my old ones.''
In the writings of J. A. Froude and of the poet Arthur
Clough alike, the imaginative picture of aU the consequences
of the alternative views of life presented by the Oxford school
appears most vividly. In Clough the moral effort to strike
the balance and sum up the controversy seems to have been
wanting. J. A. Froude's grasp of the views in question is
equally remarkable, but his interpretation of their significance
is somewhat different from Clough's. In that virid book, the
Nemesis of Faith, Ave liaAC them sketched with wonderful force
and life. Let me rapidly glance at some of thefr chief features,
and note their similarity to the ideas which possessed Mr.
Ward, and yet the Avide difference hi the conclusions of the
two men. Here is, in the first place, Froude's account of the
Anglican Church of 1831 — the "Our Church" of Mr. Ward's

398 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
invectives, vrith its " moderate " and " venerable '' dignitaries
and ecclesiastics : —
" A foolish Church, chattering, parrot-like, old notes, of which it
had forgot the meaning ; a clergy who not only thought not at all,
but whose heavy ignorance, from long unreality, clung about them
like a garment, and Avho mistook their fool's cap and bells for a
crown of wisdom, and the music of the spheres ; selfishness alike
recognised practically as the rule of conduct, and faith in God, in
man, in virtue, exchanged for faith in the belly, in fortunes, carriages,
lazy sofas, and cushioned pews; Bentham politics, and Paley religion ;
all the thought deserving to be called thought, the fiowing tide of
Germany, and the philosophy of Hume and Gibbon ; all the spiritual
feeling, the light-froth of the Wesleyans and Evangelicals ; and the
only real stern life to he found anywhere, in a strong resolved
and haughty democratic independence, heaving and rolling under
neath the chaff-spread surface. How was it like to fare with the
clergy gentlemen, and the Church turned respectable in the struggle,
with enemies like these ? Erastianism, pluralities, prebendal stalls,
and pony- gigging parsons, — what work were they like to make
against the proud, rugged, intellectual republicanism, with a fire
sword between its lips, bidding cant and lies be still, and philosophy,
with Niebuhr criticism for a reaping sickle, mowing down their
darling story-books ? High time it was to move indeed. High
time for the Church warriors to look about them, to burnish up
their armour, to seize what ground was yet remaining, what time to
train for the battle."
Here too is Mr. Froude's account of the weapons with
which the Apostles of the Moveraent girded themselves, — of
the elements of that Catholic sanctity which they held up in
contrast to the common-sense working Protestantism of England,
and to the spfrit of this world which practically possessed the
Anghcan Church. Mr. Froude realised and accentuated the
contrast, so familiar in Scripture, but which Newman brought
at that time actively into practical Ufe, between the quaUties
which lead to worldly success on the one hand, and the un
earthly sanctity of the true Christian on the other ; the spirit
of current Anghcanism was fast beginning to canonise the
former, the Movement aimed at vindicating and establishing
in its ministry the latter.
" The question with the Tract writers was, whether Arith the help of
the old framework they could unprotestantise its working character,
and reinsphe it with so much of the old life as should enable it to do
the same work in England which the Eoman Church produced abroad;

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 399
to make England cease to produce great men — as we count greatness —
and for poetry, courage, daring, enterprise, resolution, and broad
honest understanding, substitute devotion, endurance, humility, self-
denial, sanctity, and faith. . . . Long sighted men saw now that Chris
tianity itself had to fight for its life, and that, unless it was very soon to
die in England, as it had died in Germany and France, something else
than the broad solid English sense must be inoculated into the hearts of
us. We were all liberalising as we were going on, making too much of
this world and losing our hold upon the next; forgetting, as we all did,
that the next was the only real world, and this but a thorny road to
it, to be trod with bleeding feet, and broken spirits. It was high
time." And again he continues : —
" To wean the Church from its Erastianism into militancy, where
it might at least command respect for its sincerity. . . . Slowly
then to draw the people out of the whirl of business to thought
upon themselves — from self-assertion, from the clamouring for their
rights and the craving for independence, to alms-giving, to endurance
of wrong, to the confessional — from doing to praying — from early
hours in the office, or in the field, to matins and daily service ; this
Avas the purpose of the Tract Moveraent. God knows, if Christianity
be true, a purpose needful enough to get fulfilled. For surely it is
madness, if the world be the awful place the Bible says it is, the
Devil's kingdom — the battle-field between good and evil spirits for
the eternal happiness or eternal perdition of human souls — to go out,
as we all do, clergy and all of us — to eat, and drink, and labour,
and enjoy our labour's fruit, and find our home and happiness here."
Such are the words of the hero of IMr. Froude's novel,
Markham Sutherland, who passes for a time under the influence
of the Newmanite teaching. His subsequent history is told with
deep pathos. Having realised the two riews of life — the
natural and supernatural — vividly, and, as it seems to me, in a
morbid and overstrained spirit, he breaks doAvn. He cannot
believe in the awful alternatives of Christianity. Several causes
are at work in his change, but the main one is described to be
the rejection of the Christian conception of sin. " If there be
any such thing as sin," he Avrote, " in proportion to the depth
with which men feel it they wUl gravitate toAvards Eome."^
Sutherland rejects the reality of sin. " Sin as commonly under
stood," he wrote, "is a chimera." He settles down into a
naturalistic view of Ufe and of human nature, and rejects the
1 Nemesis of Faith, p. 160.

400 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
hteral Christianity of the Gospels which the Movement hail
forced on his attention, with all its consequences. " For
me," he writes, "the World Avas neither so high nor so low
as the Church would have it ; chequered over with its wild
light shadows, I could love it and all the children of it more
dearly perhaps because it Avas not all Ught. ' These many men
so beautUul,' they should be neither God's children nor the
DcAdl's children, but the children of men." It is at this point
that Sutherland is spoken of as " working round to a stronger
and more real grasp of life." The melancholy history which
follows of his crime, of his feverish repentance and accept
ance of Cathohcism as an antesthetic, of the consequent re
action and final despair, of the miserable death after which, as
his biographer says, "no liring being was left behind him on
earth who would not mourn over the day which brought life to
Markham Sutherland," — of all this I will not speak, as Mr.
Froude plainly impUes that it was the result of special circum
stances and of an unhinged mind.
Up tb the point of which I have spoken, however,
the history is obviously intended as both typical and as
the history of a reasonable raind. Let it be noted, then,
that the two central problems of religious life with which
Mr. Froude deals — in one case in his, own person, in the other
in that of his hero — are closely connected, and at least
bring out the coherency and force of the religious philosophy of
the Oxford school. The first problem is that of historical
and critical evidence. It is the problem which is now being
constantly urged upon orthodox believers. A novel which has
been widely read, and is undoubtedly representative of a very
active school of thought, has painted graphically the decay of
orthodox faith on this one ground. Eobert Elsmere lost his
behef simply because it seemed to him that modern criticism
invahdated the testimony for the miraculous element in the
Christian history. Let it be noted well then that the Oxford
school saw fifty years ago that advancing science would urge this
line of argument. It is fifty years since Newman proclaimed to
his disciples that the historical evidence pure and simple for
Christianity — isolated and viewed simply as evidence a posteriori
for a miraculous fact — was insufficient: That proclamation, as
we have here seen, saved for Ward orthodox belief, and destroyed

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 401
such behef in Froude. Whence this difference of effect ? It is
to be found in the second problem, the second crucial struggle
which Mr. Froude describes in the person of his hero.
Let me try and explain this. Newman had maintained,
as we have seen, that to those who recognise the God of
Christianity, to those who trust the reality of theh com
munion with Him in prayer, who see His hand in the
outlines of the history of the, chosen people, and in the
unearthhness of Christian doctrine and Christian hfe, there
arises a strong presumption for the facts of Christianity which
suppUes the deficiency of the historical eAidence. Tins pre
sumption did hot indeed, even ou Newman's piinciples, dis
pense with the necessity of a posteriori proof for a complete
theory of belief; but it so transformed and deepened the
grounds of belief as to require for its destruction far more
cogent evidence discrediting revelation than the chameleon
like critical school had brought or was likely to bring. He
maintained that new, explanations or modifications here and
there of the current orthodox language was the probable solu
tion of difficulties raised by new discoveries, Avhicli hasty and
intemperate intellectualists, with the sanguineness of speciahsts
rather than the caution of phUosophers, urged aud would urge
as fatal to belief in a miraculous Christianity. Again, the
history of Christianity disclosed possibilities of a renewal of
the human soul, and revealed divine forces for effecting that
renewal, and those forces had in fact been absolutely bound
up with belief in a miraculous history. A'ivid belief in that
history had been the lUe of the Church. The supposition
(often advanced in our days) that Christianity can do its
work as well Avithout this belief, was purely specidative and
unwarranted, and contrary to all analogy. Christianity without
a basis in fact Avas like filial affection Avithout the existence of
a father or mother.^ The hfe of the Christian character has
been trust in facts.
This being so, if Ave recognise an over-ruling Proridence
in the history of the Church, we have in that recognition
a strong presumption that the vital facts of Christianity
are true. The vivid recognition of this presumption by
the realisation of Christian sanctity, of the Christian
' See Apologia, p. 49.
2 D

402 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
spirit, and of the hand of Proridence in the history of his
Church, and of the difference in kind between the personal
trust in a still Uring and Dirine Christ and the mere devotion
to an idea — both in itself and in its effects — such personal
apprehensions as these help to form that spirit of Faith which
NcAvman urged as necessary in supplementing the historical
evidences ; and it was this spfrit which Mr. Froude declared
himself unable to understand.
Here we must leave Mr. Froude himself and go to the
hero of his novel, who gives us more materials for
judgment. Markham Sutherland goes so far with Mr.
Froude, but in his case we have the key to the effect pro
duced on him by Newman's philosophy of Faith. Why did
that philosophy lead Mr. Ward out of that sceptical frame of
mind into which it plunged Markham Sutherland % The reply
has only to be briefly indicated ; the materials for it have been
given already. To Mr. Ward the difficulties of the historical
proof were already a reality. He saw the impossibiUty of
riewing the miraculous events of the Christian history as
something apart from its internal credentials — as facts to be
estabhshed by the cold dry light of a posteriori proof The
presumptions of the case, in this riew, were all against the
truth of such a history. Wliat was miraculous, as at least
unusual, was improbable. The superficial points of resemblance
between Christianity and other religions seemed the most
significant points. They were at all events the most obvious
and easily ascertainable points, if Christianity were approached
from without instead of from within. If supposed miracles in
other rehgious systems, were mythical, so, probably, were the
Christian miracles. If other mythologies were traceable to
ascertainable sources of error in human nature, why should
not the Christian theology be equally so traceable ? Such
were the presumptions, such the guiding spirit of inquiry, to
one who approached the matter purely as an external event,
without personal relation to himself, and affording no special or
unusual internal eridence.
On the other hand, on Newman's principles Ward found
the presumptions reversed. Commence by the realisation of
the depths of the human soul, of its relations with God, of the
probabUity that God wouM grant a revelation, of the points of

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 403
contrast between the Christian revelation and other rehgious,
and facts assume a different colour. If Christianity in its
trae exhibition is unlike religious fanaticism, and is unique
among religions, the antecedent improbabiUty of its miracles to
a great extent ceases. An event soUtary in human liistory for
its greatness and significance may well bring marvels in its
train. The enquirer proceeds, then, in comparing it with other
religions, to note differences rather than similarities. Again,
the actual experiences of a practical Christian increase his
perception of God's presence Arith mankind, and lead thi
Christian to add the weight of rivid behef in the Providential
course of the great events tn history, to those a posteriori
proofs which, taken alone, left the matter undetermined.
Thus Newman's philosophy added much to Ward's
Christianity, while it took away nothing. And — Avhich is
here in point — the additions depended on deeper and more
explicit realisation of the spiritual nature of man in his
existing condition, of his relations with God, and of the
internal marks which the Christian message bears of its own
divinity. And an integral element of each of these three,
in our fallen state, is the conception of sin. Without that
conception Theism and Christianity ahke assume an entirely
new character in their relations to mankind, and are only
apprehended | imperfectly and externaUy. The sense of the
need of a remedial religion for fallen man, the prayer to
God for help in the struggle against sinful nature, the actual
consciousness of the contrast between the ideal standard Avliich
our better nature reverences and the evU inclinations and
acts of the lower nature — these are elementary facts in that
internal and personal A-iew of Christianity to Avhich NcAvman
appealed. And they all involve the sense of sin.
Sutherland, as we have seen, denied the reahty of sin
altogether ; and in doing so he destroyed that fabric of in
ternal evidence for which NcAvman contended. The destruc
tion, then, of the purely external proof of Chiistianity was to
him the destruction of all proof But it deserAes consideration
whether the elimination of sin from the reahties of the human
sold does not, in practice, leave the Theism which may remain
a comparativtdy meaningless formula — paraUel rather to Deism
or even to Pantheism than to the Theism of a relirious Unitarian.

404 THE OXFORD SCHOOL chap.
For myself I confess this seeras to be the case, and the grounds
on which Sutherland rejected Newman's philosophy of faith
seem to involve the loss of all idea of the soul's personal
relations with God. I am not denying that many might
reject that philosophy and yet preserve the conception of those
relations untouched. Dr. Martineau, for example, would un
doubtedly, deny that Newman's principles give sufficient
grounds for a belief in the miracles of Christianity. All I
contend for is that in the history of Sutherland it is the denial
of those relations — the loss of all sense of what is the first
reality of spiritual consciousness in communion with the
supreme power, the sense of sin, — which led to the rejection
of Newman's principles. His rejection of sin led, further,
to the rejection of Catholicism, not, as he professed, because
the sense of sin leads directly to Catholicism as an anaesthetic,
but mainly in rirtue of those elements in Catholicism which
it shares with all true Theism, but which it presents so much
more fully and viA'idly, in all their consequences.
Tractarianism forced on Sutherland's attention the dilemma
which a less definite and active system might have left him to
recognise or not as he pleased. It was a choice between
active recognition ,of the reality of the spiritual life and its
rejection. Confession, self-examination, and the detailed re
ligious practices of the party pressed the dilemma on his
attention ; and when he looked back at the principles of faith
itself, he found again that Newman held up the moral proof,
based on the spiritual life, as all-important. Had these ele
ments been less forcibly insisted on, it is conceivable that there
would have been no open apostacy ; but none the less, if the
inability to believe fully in the reality of sin was already there,
Newman's teaching was rather the occasion than the .cause of
the avowed scepticism which ensued. A temporary withdrawal
of tiie pressure of asceticism, and a more prominent insistence
on a posteriori and historical Christian eridences raight have
calmed Sutherland's mind for a time ; but such treatment
would not have touched the root of his disease; and unless a
more radical change had been effected by other agencies, the
scepticism must have ultimately asserted itself
An additional circumstance, which would seem to favour
this view, lies in the fact that Newman's writings have often

XV AND MODERN RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 40S
been known to help in thefr struggle against unbehef those
who do not recognise that thefr full development is to be
found only in the Church. Such thinkers — to whom prayer
and sin were afready reahties — even when they have found
him in part unconvincing, have not found him sceptical in
tendency. To pursue this further, however, or again to con
sider how far other cases — such as those of Clough and
Pattison' — can be explained on the same lines as that of
Markham Sutherland, would carry me beyond my present
limits. With these suggestions, then, I bring to a close my study of
certain phases of the Oxford Movement. I have not attempted
to estimate the extent or degree of its consequences. It is
possible that these are hardly capable of being ascertained fully
even now. I have spoken only of the dhection of its infiuence
on the points I have referred to. That its effect on reUgious
thought must ultimately prove to. have been considerable avUI
hardly be doubted by those who attribute to the Oxfford
writers qualities which few have denied them — deep and single-
minded earnestness and rare intellectual gUts — and who bear
in mind that these qualities were kindled and concentrated in
their action, by a crisis of spiritual animation without parallel
in our own century and country.

Note. — I should remark, for tho benefit of Catholic readers, that while I have
throughout the foregoing chapter implied that all that was best and truest in the
Tractarian teaching finds its natural outcome and fullest expression in the
Church, and while in some instances Tractarian doctrine was identical with
Catholic doctrine and is spoken of as Catholic, I have not attempted the task
of examining what modifications in detail or in expression would be necessary to
bring the wiitings of the Oxford school into complete accord with the teaching of
the Catholic schools. Such a task, howoiyer interesting in itself, would have been
outside the scope of my book.

APPENDIX A
The following sermon, written by Mr. 'Ward in December 1837, while he was
still to some extent "Amoldian," illustrates certain features in his attitude
on religious subjects described in Chapter I'V^. It will be noticed that he rejects
the doctrine of the "real presence" in it — a doctrine which a few months later
he accepted with the rest of the Anglo-Catholic theology.
God is a Spirit: and they that worship Him must worship Him in
spirit amd in truth. — St. John iv. 24.
No man hath seen God at any time ; the only begotten Son, which is in
the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him. — St. John i. 1 8.
God is a Spirit, as our Lord says : now what is a Spirit ? we can
not tell, the wisest of us any more than the most ignorant ; only
as we get wiser we see more and more that we cannot tell. All
that we know is that it is not a body — not anything which may be
discerned by our senses. So then we cannot have any idea of a
Spirit, and so of what God is. We know that He made us, that He
preserves and watches over us, that He loves us ; we know again,
or we may know if we will read the Bible, that our first duty of all
is to love Him ; that our love even of our families, our wives, our
children, should be far less than our love of Him : much more our
love of the business and pleasure of this world. We may know that
to promote His glory should be the one chief object Ave have in
view in all our thoughts, words, and actions. " Whether we eat or
drink, or whatever we do, we are to do all to the glory of God."
We may know that industry, honesty, contentment, chastity, are
only acceptable to God at all, so far as they arise from thoughts of
Him ; that in proportion as they are caused by a regard to our
interest in this life, to our health, for instance, or to getting and
laying by money, or to being liked by our neighbours, that in pro
portion say as these and the like are principal causes of our good
actions, they lose their value in the sight of God altogether.
" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God Arith aU thy heart and with all
thy soul and with all thy mind," says our Lord. "This is the first
and greatest commandment ; and the second is hke unto it, thou shalt

4o8 APPENDIX A

love thy neighbour as thyseh." ^ Observe again in the Lord's prayer
the very first petition, before we ask anything for ourselves or
others, is " HaUowed be thy name " : but there is no use in saying
more about this ; we cannot look carefully at any part of the Bible
Arithout seeing this great truth clearly expressed. And yet how
hard a task it is so to love Hira, so continuaUy to keep Him in our
thoughts, to be so careful and jealous of His honour, when, as we
have seen, we can have no idea whatever of Him as He is. So hard
a task that many, it is to be feared, at different times have been led
to paint Him to themselves in the form and image of an earthly
king sitting in the heavens with a crown and sceptre, and thence
looking down upon and ruling the earth. But the second com
mandment forbade the Jews from making any graven image of
Him ; and the spirit of that commandment must ever remain to
restrain us from daring to think of Him under any image which He
has not allowed ; so that if no more were to be said than we have
said, it must follow that we, poor weak creatures of sense as we are,
ever carried away by the things around . us from bearing in mind
what is out of our sight, must try, as best we might, to have a con
tinual fear and love of Him whose very existence we must believe
by faith, and could not by any allowed means bring home to our
imaginations. Nay, we should be in a worse state than were the
Jews, for they beheld the presence of God in the pillar of the cloud
by day and the pUlar of fire by night ; they saw His glory when it
filled Solomon's temple ; they saw God's presence among them by a
continual succession of miracles and providential dispensations ;
while we have no such supports to our faith, " for since the fathers
fell asleep all things continue as they were from the beginning." ^
Of course, were it so, it would still be our true wisdom and
bounden duty thankfully to accept the salvation off'ered to us, to
try by the help of God's Holy Spirit to purify ourselves even as He is
pure ; and to labour ever, as in His sight, to do our duty in that
state of life to which it hath pleased Him to call us. But, blessed
be God, this is not all that is to be said. For what is the great
event which this holy season of the year brings especially before us ?
No less than this, that God, the maker of all things Tisible and
invisible, has taken upon Him our form and our nature, both soul
and body ; has become like unto us in all things— in hopes, feelings,
desires, affections, in joy, in grief, in hunger, thirst, and weariness,
in everything but this — ^that He did no sin; that Jesus of
Nazareth, very God and very Man, was born into the world, from
an infant became a child, from a child increased in wisdom and in
stature, became a man ; that for thirty years He lived, as any of
us might live, going out and coming in, working and resting, being
^ Matt. xxii. 37. "' 2 Peter- iii. 4.

APPENDIX A 409

in subjection to His mother and His reputed father, and, as it seems,
occupied Arith His trade of a carpenter ; that after that time He
preached for three years a new revelation frOm God, and closed at
length a life of continual grief and suffering by a painful and
despised death. It is surely an aAriul thought ; weU is it, as has
been truly said, when we first bring it home to us, if it do not
haunt us in our very dreams. Now the chief pririlege which fiows
to us from this stupendous act of mercy is of course that by His
death and resurrection He has reconciled us to God, and made us
the heirs of everlasting hfe ; that whereas ever since Adam's fall
sinful man had been in a state of enmity against God, He bare our
sins on His own body on the tree, that we being by nature born in
wrath, might become, to use the expression of the collect for
Christmas Day, which is repeated in to-day's service — God's chUdren
by adoption and grace. But this benefit being singled out frora the
rest for special observance at Eastertide, it may be more fitting at
present to tum our thoughts to some of the many other blessings
which follow in its train.
And now we have the point to which I wished to bring what I
said at first : " No man hath seen God at any time," it is most
true, " but the only begotten Son hath declared Him.'' We may
then think Avorthily of God by thinking of Jesus Christ ; we may
without idolatry worship God in the form of His only begotten Son.
Now all that I have been saying about His coming to us and
dwelling upon earth is probably quite familiar to us all ; and so
indeed it would seem, for if we heard of it for the first time, Avhat
words could express the eager anxiety with Avhich we should press
on to know all that Avas to be knoAvn as to the doings upon earth
of this great and wonderful being ! Whereas, alas ! hoAv few of us
there are — I mean even among those who are in the habit of reading
the Bible — who at all see how great their privilege is in being
aUowed to read it ! how many Avho open it wearily .is an appointed
task, and are glad when they come to the end of their appointed
chapter, that they may close it agfiin ! " Blessed are your eyes,"
says our Lord, " for they see, and your ears, for they hear ; for I
say unto you that many prophets and Arise men have desired to see
those things which ye see and have not seen them ; and to hear
those things which ye hear and have not heard them." Those
things which we raay, any of us, read any day in the New Testa
ment, are [those for which] holy and wise men of old woidd gladly
have resigned all other earthly blessings if they might have knoAvn
them ; but they might not. We knoAv them ; and I ask, can we
even for a moment conceive the state of mind Avhich would hold
that knowledge more precious than all earthly things, than aU
happiness, than increase of riches, than unfailing health ? and if we
cannot conceive it, are Ave not self-condemned ? I said that we know

410 APPENDIX A

these things ; but do we know them ? or rather, although the words
are so famUiar to us, have we any of us ever heartily conceived the
thing expressed by the words ? have we ever fixed in our minds the
great events I have run through, as things which as really and cer
tainly happened upon this earth as anything that we see around us
every day % and yet which far more nearly concern us than any
thing that we see around us '! ... It must very much concern us,
then, to find out the cause why we so little understand what we aU
so fully beUeve ; or rather, that our belief extends only to the words
and not to the idea signified. Now though there are other things
which partly account for this, one great cause seems certainly to be
that one most important part of Scripture we do not read in such a
manner as to draw from it the very chief benefit it was intended to
give us : I mean the four Gospels. They contain an account of the
hfe of our Lord chiefiy from the time when, being thirty years old,
He began His ministry. They do not contain a regular life, that
is, a detail in order of time of His actions, but rather what would
be called now anecdotes ; that is, they give us perhaps some one
story or some one speech of His at length, and then pass over some
considerable tirae in silence, and then give a long account of sorae
other story or speech, or give a short story in order to introduce
some one of His speeches, or string together a set of short sayings
of His all together, and so on. The one thing clearly in view is to
give a just and fuU idea of our Saviour's character, and this kind of
writing, if we would but make use of it, is singularly fitted for that
end. But so it is, we have read the words so often, as is natural,
and have generally taken so little pains to enter into their meaning,
Avhich has been chiefiy our own fault in days of old, that we are as
it were punished for it by the much greater difficulty we have in
entering fully into what we read than what we otherwise might
have felt : " the words fall on our ear like an old familiar sound,
¦producing no impression and awakening no idea."
Now I would say, are we reading some story about our Lord ?
let us try and paint to ourselves His very form, and manner, and
action : are we reading some speech of His % let us look carefuUy
on what occasion it was delivered, and imagine to ourselves as best
we can the scene at the time, let us try and think of His very
expression of countenance and voice and gesture. This is a great
advantage of pictures representing scenes of the New Testament, if
any of us have means of seeing such : they help us so very much in
forming clear ideas of the stories in the Gospels : at all events we
ought as much as we can to fancy to ourselves a picture of every
scene we there read of. Let us take, for instance, the story which
so naturally occurs to us at the present time ; the shepherds coming
in to worship the infant Jesus. Let us think first of the manger
itself with the brute cattle about it, and in one comer of it the child

'^AP PEN DIX A 411

with His mother; let us think of that mother's countenance as
knowing and keeping to herself the great secret of the manner of
that child's birth ; and then let us think of the body of shepherds
rushing in and bowing down to the Babe in the cradle as the
promised deliverer of their nation, and straightway going out and
filling the ears of every one with the wonders they had seen and
heard. But it will generaUy be far more useful to dwell on scenes
where our Lord Himself is the principal personage ; as a definite
idea of Him as He was is the great thing to be aimed at. I wUl
read you a passage from a most Christian and affecting Avriter
explaining in the manner I mean the three first verses of John vi.
" After these things Jesus went over the Sea of Galilee, which is
the Sea of Tiberias ; and a great multitude followed Him because
they saw His miracles which He did on them that Avere diseased ;
and Jesus went up into a mountain, and there He sat with His
disciples." "Now suppose," says this writer, "this passage to bc
read to his children by the master of a family, how many would
hear it without interest and without receiving any clear ideas from
it. But suppose he could show to his children the real scene men
tioned ; and taking his family to some hill frora whence they could
behold the whole country of Galilee, actuaUy see what this describes.
' Do you observe,' he might say, ' that wide sea which fills the Avhole
extent of the valley beneath us % that is the Sea of Tiberias, caUed
also the Sea of Galilee : all this country round it is Galilee, those
distant mountains are in Galilee, and that beautiful wood is a
Galilean forest : but look I do you see that small boat coming round ?
it is slowly making its way across the Avater ; we raay alraost hear
the plashing of the oars. It contains the Saviour and sorae of His
disciples. They are steering towards Tiberias — they approach the
shore — they stop at the landing and the Saviour folloAved by His
disciples walks out upon the shore.' Suppose now this party of
observers to reraain a little longer at their post, and see in a short
tirae that some sick person is brought to the Saviour to be healed :
another and another comes, a croAvd gradually collects around Him :
He retreats sloAvly up the rising ground, and after a little time is
seen to take His place upon an elevated spot where He can overlook
and address the throng which has collected around Him." Noav I
am far from saying it Avill be easy for any of us to set about reading
the four Gospels in this manner ; no bad habit whatever is easy to
get rid of, and this inveterate habit of reading the mere words of
the stories without taking in their full meaning is not more easy to
get rid of than any other habit ; but surely it is worth while taking
some little pains to acquire what Avill be found so very important
a help towards that real and hearty faith in Jesus Christ which can
alone support us in this Aveary and sinful life, against all the
besetting temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil.

412 APPENDIX A

The portions of Scripture selected for the Gospels of the dif
ferent Sundays and Holydays in the year, will many of thera, I think,
be found a very useful selection for those who wish to begin this habit.
It will be best, I should think, to take some one of the shorter stories
of our Lord contained in them as a beginning, and read it over and
over carefully with this view, till we should be able ourselves to tell
the same story in different words, and to stand any cross question
ing as to the circumstances attending them. Or again we might
take the account of our Lord's raising Lazarus in John xi, which
is too long to be selected as the Gospel for any day, but is one of
the most affecting of all the scenes in our Lord's life ; and is more
over one which I think will be found more easy to conceive dis
tinctly than many others are. And then, Avhen we have conceived
distinctly this or any other story, let us call to mind that He of
whom he has been reading is no other than Almighty God,
surrounded by His sinful creatures whom He has come from Heaven
to redeem. This will not, I suppose, be done without a degree of
attention which at first will be rather painful, and at first, moreover,
Avill only be imperfectly done : but then, like everything else, it
Avill very much improve by practice : it will become far more easy,
and also we shall do it better, till at last we may hope it will be
come our only natural way of reading the four Gospels. And it
will help us, I think, if from the time we begin this practice we
never allow ourselves to read that part of the Bible in any other
way : we shall still have the other parts of New Testament, and
also the long speeches of our Lord, as, e.g., the Sermon on the
Mount in St. Matthew, and our Lord's discourse to his disciples
after the last supper in St. John ; but we shall find great help in
never suff'ering ourselves to read about any action of our Lord's
without trying to fix in our minds a picture, as it were, of what is
described. If any are inclined to begin such a plan at once, by the
time the week before Easter comes round, which is called Passion
week, they will find themselves, I think, able to follow the story of
our Lord's betrayal and crucifixion, which is read in church on the
different days of thatweek,with an interest and a feeling of the reality
they have before had no idea of They may without difficulty follow
Him in their mind, from His last supper to His agony in the garden ;
from thence surrounded by the multitude to the judgment hall; they
may dwell on His conduct and His answers there. His appearance
before the Eoman governor, and so on Arith all the circumstances of
that awful scene, until He is fixed on the cross, and dying com
mends His mother to the care of His beloved disciple, and gives up
the ghost. And so on Easter day, and afterwards, they may bring
clearly before their eyes His different and miraculous appearances in
His glorified body, till in sight of all His disciples. He ascended

APPENDIX A 413

with it into Heaven, there to sit at the right hand of God, and to
plead His death with His Heavenly Father, and ever to make in
tercession for us His redeemed creatures, whom He has left below,
straggling by His gracious help with all those sins and temptations
which without ceasing thwart and trouble us in our endeavours
to attain that place in Heaven which He has purchased for us with
His own blood, and has gone before to prepare for us.
And when we have accustomed ourselves to thoughts such as
these, it will no longer be difficult to bring home to our hearts that
God always sees us, that everything we do must be done to His glory.
You remember when our Lord "tumed and looked upon Peter."
Whenever we read of Him, whatever circumstances in His life, let
us remember that that same countenance is fixed on each one of us,
either in pleasure or in displeasure, in every instant of our lives ; in
our work, in our rest, at our meals, in the light of day, in the dark
ness and solitude of night, that eye " is about our path and about our
bed, and spieth out all our ways." And can there be a more winning
and coraraanding motive to obedience than that so presented to us ?
Yes, there is one even more winning and commanding; it is the eye not
merely of Him who made us and requires our obedience, but of
Him who redeemed us and tenderly loves us. He who loved St.
John, who in the agonies of death commended His mother to his
care. He who wept over the grave of Lazarus, He loves us in like
manner as He loved St. John and Lazarus. He died for us. He
Avould willingly gather tho full fruits of his passion. He is always
far more ready and anxious to receive us than we, alas ! to turn to
Him, He has promised the help of His Holy Spirit to all who will
hut ask it. He has promised by His apostle that with eviTy
temptation He will raake also a Avay to escape " that Ave may be
able to bear it ;" and shall we, for want of our poor exertions, make
such love and such promises of none eff'ect ?
But this I would address rather to those who have already in
earnest Avished to obey their God and Saviour, Avhether they be such
as stand and require to be strengthened, or Aveak-hearted and requhe
to be comforted and helped, or lastly, are even in danger of falling
away as being beset by trials and temptations sore to bear, and
which appear almost above their strength : let these last especially
fix their hopes on the sure mercies of that SaAiour who has aheady
done so much for them and will never desert those Avho earnestly
and in faith seek Him. But to hira Avho has as yet lived in fact
Avithout God in the world, who, whatever his outAvard conduct and
profession, has really been influenced by motives of this world
alone, to hira, Avhether living in actual open sin or in raere godlessness
and hardness of heart, the love of Christ AviU appear a strange thing ;
or if it does not, if this tirae of Christmas, e.g. has at all touched his
heart Avith the greatness of God's mercies, and there is something

4U APPENDIX A

to all minds, from whatever cause, so winning in the services of
this season, that such a thing is not improbable, let him not deceive
himself by supposing that such a feeling on the surface of his heart
is at all of the nature of true religion. I AriU tell him what it is ;
it is a fresh call from God to give his heart to heavenly things, and
if he dare again neglect that call, it avUI only add to his condem
nation at the last day. It is not religion, but it is that which may
make his first steps in religion less repulsive and distasteful. If he
would know what religious feeling is, he raust begin by hearty
repentance and self-abasement before God : let him rather think of
John the Baptist, who prepared the way for faith in our Lord by
preaching " Eepent ye," " The axe is laid to the root of the trees :
every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast
into the fire," or if he does think of Jesus Christ, let him think of
Him as his future judge ; as Him who will come and call him to
account for his thoughts, words, and actions, one by one at the last
day. His proud heart must be crushed and humbled, his sinful
mind awakened to some degree of knowledge of itself, before he
may dare think himself at peace vrith God. Nor would I mean
that any of us can afford to forget the terrors of the Lord, His
threats as well as His promises, so long as our best feelings are
uncertain and precarious. While the temptations of the world with
out and our own sinful nature within are so constant and powerful ;
while our actual sins in God's sight are so numberless, we can ill
spare any one support of our Christian principles ; much less one
so continually enforced in Scripture. And accordingly we find in
our Church those very thoughts I have mentioned of the Baptist's
preaching, and of the last judgment joined together in the services
of the solemn season of Advent, which we have so lately passed, as
the best preparation of the earnest Christian for the joyful time Ave
now celebrate.
But for those whose heart is really, even if as yet but
faintly, engaged in the service of God, the more habitual frame
of mind, and at this season the one especially befitting them, is a
deep and devoutly grateful sense of the pririlege they enjoy as
being by adoption sons of God. Does any one of us fully bring
before himself all that is contained in those few words ? Christ
has become, if we may say it, our brother ; God is our reconciled
and tender Father. Let me be allowed to read you a passage on
this subject, which I am glad to be able to do, as conveying ideas
of all the most important to be ever in our minds, and which few
have the gift of so expressing as in any adequate manner to convey
them. " Jesus Christ of whom we read in the four Gospels, even
He beholds thee individually, whoever thou art. He calls thee by
thy name ; He sees thee and understands thee as He made thee. He
knows what is in thee, all thy own peculiar feelings and thoughts,'

APPENDIX A 415

thy dispositions and likings, thy strength and thy weakness. He
riews thee in thy day of rejoicing and thy day of sorrow, Hc
sympathises in thy hopes and thy temptations. He interests him
self in all thy anxieties and remembrances, all the risings and faU-
ings of thy spirit. He has numbered the very hairs of thy head,
and the cubits of thy stature. He compasses thee round and bears
thee in His arms : He takes thee up and sets thee doAvn. He notes
thy very countenance, whether smUing or in tears, whether health
ful or sickly. He looks tenderly upon thy hands and thy feet ; He
hears thy voice, the beating of thy heart, and thy very breathing.
Thou dost not love thyself better than He loves thee : thou canst
not shrink frora pain more than He dislikes thy bearing it ; and if
He puts it on thee it is as thou wilt put it on thyself if thou art
wise, for a greater good afterwards. Thou art not only His
creature (though for the very sparrows He has a care, and pitied
the 'much cattle' of Nineveh), thou art man redeemed and
sanctified, God's adopted son, favoured with a portion of that glory
and blessedness which fiows from God everlastingly unto the only
begotten. Thou art chosen to be His even above thy felloAvs Avho
dwell in the east and south. Thou wast one of those for Avhom He
off'ered up His last prayer, and sealed it Arith his precious blood.
' 1 pray not for these alone, but for them also which shall believe in
me through their word,' even for us — ' that they all may be one ;
as Thou Father art in me and I in Thee, that they also may he one
in us.' ^ What a thought is this 1 a thought almost too great for
our faith : scarce can we refrain from acting Sarah's part when Ave
bring it before us, and ' laugh ' for amazement and perplexity, ^^'hat
is man, what are we, what am I, that the Son of God should be so
mindful of me ? What am I that He should have raised mo from
almost a devil's nature to that of angel ? That He should Himself
dwell personally in this very heart of mine, making me His temple ?
What am I that the Holy Ghost should enter into me and draAv up
my thoughts heavenwards Avith plaints unutterable ? " Nothing can
jiossibly be added to this most affecting description of the state of
blessedness which it is our privilege to enjoy if we ourselves would
but heartily believe it to be ours.
Lastly, Jesus Christ " has left us an example that ye should
Avalk iu His steps ; " - and this is a privilege Avhich we may not
neglect. Let any one read our Lord's historj' diligently and care
fully in the manner I have been urging, and he wUl become by
God's grace slowly and insensibly another man. I do not Avish to
undervalue direct precepts and advice ; far indeed from it, Ave are
most unwise and most sinful if Ave neglect to profit by any means
of grace offered to us; but I do say — let us, in the strong
' John xvii. 20. = 1 Peter ii. 21.

4i6 APPENDIX A

language of Scripture, eat our Lord's flesh and drink His blood ; let
us support our souls by the thought of Him, as we support our
bodies by meat and drink ; let us have His image before us, not
only as our hope and comfort, but as our example, and it will of
itself do far more for us than all other means together in purity,
meekness, contentment, resignation to the vrill of God, — to mention
no more. We shall astonish others and ourselves by the advance we
shall make towards "the measure of the stature of the fulness of
Christ,"^ as we are more and more "conformed to the image of
Him," ^ who as on the one hand the " first-born of every creature "
the perfect pattern of man's nature, so on the other hand is " the
express image of God's person." And as we grow in grace and in
the love of our blessed Lord, going through this vale of misery, wo
shall more and more use it well, and the pools thereof will be
filled with water ; for the Father and the Son wUl come unto us
and make their abode vrith us.^ Jesus Christ will Hiraself look
down from Heaven, and lead us by the hand, if we AriU but submit
to His guidance, through the troubles and temptations of this weary
Avorld, until through the gate of death He shall bring us to ever
lasting life, where we shall enjoy the fulness of the presence of Him
whom here we have loved in our measure by faith ; " where the
Lamb shall feed us, and shall lead us unto living fountains of waters,
and God shall Aripe away all tears from our eyes," * " for we shall see
Him as He is, and shall be purified even as He is pure."
0 God, whose blessed Son was manifested that He might
destroy the works of the devil, and make us the sons . of God and
heirs of everlasting life, grant, we beseech Thee, that having, this
hope we may purify ourselves even as He is pure ; that when He
shall appear again with power and great glory, we may be made like
unto Him in His eternal and glorious kingdom, where with Thee, 0
Father, and Thee, 0 Holy Ghost, He liveth and reigneth ever one
God, world Arithout end.
1 Eph. iv. 13. "- Rom. viii. 29. ^ jp]jn 3.;y_ 23.
* Rev. vii. 17.

APPENDIX B
The following extracts from a sermon — written by Mr. 'Ward probably in
1839 or 1840 — have reference to his theory that Obedience is the appointed path
to religious knowledge.
John vii. 17. — If amy man will do His will, he shall know of the
doctrine, whether it be of God.
Such are our Lord's words as we heard read in church the other day,
in speaking to the Jews of His divine mission, " my doctrine is not
mine, but His that sent me." We read a little before that " there
was a murrauring among the people concerning Him ; for some said
he is a good man, others said nay, but he deceiveth the people."
And to the people, so divided in opinion concerning Him, He seems
to say in the text, if we may venture to enlarge His sacred Avords :
" If any man will — that is, if any man choose to do God's wUl, if
any raan from this time resolve to do his duty in every respect so
far as he knows it, and so far as he is able, in matters great and
small as they happen and in God's sight, if any man resolve to
commit himself into God's hands, not knowing Avhither he goes "
(Heb. xi.' 8), "if he resolve by God's grace not to flinch from any
duty which may come from Him, hoAV strange and grievous soever,
trasting in His special providence over His faithful servants that
He will not tempt them above that they are able, if he resolve to
foUow eagerly and gladly the faintest gliraraering of a light which
seems to be frora God, — such an one, as he advances in his course of
true and acceptable obedience, will more and more see that my
words are God's words, that my message is from God. The many
among you, those avIioso chief aim is to be decent and respectable,
Avho observe the ordinances of their religion as being a decent and
respectable thing to do, but who think little of disobedience in verj-
small matters and on occasion, Avho are Avell contented with what
light they have, — nay, so far from being anxiously on the look-out
for more, rather fear the intrusion of more, lest it impose on them a
heavier burden and a stricter task, — such men as these, who dream
2 E

41 8 APPENDIX B

of rehgion, not practise it, will be offended at my doctrines as con
trary to the very law which I profess to revere, or will rail at me
as bringing in idle and useless divisions, and disturbing the harmony
of the nation by dAvelling on things as important and necessary
which, whether true or not, are plainly far from important or
necessary. 'But vrisdom is justified of her children.' ^ My elect,
Avho have been purged and purified by a course of strict obedience,
see more and more the real divinity of the doctrines which I teach ;
that the ' law came by Moses,' ' the shadow of good things to come,
not the reality, but that grace and truth came by Me.' "
This same great doctrine, that obedience is theone path to religious
truth, is urged in difierent shapes in very many passages of Scripture.
To speak of only one, which seems alraost a type of the whole lesson
in question : what is the whole of John the Baptist's mission but
one continued inculcation of this ? He came, as we know, to " make
ready a people prepared for the Lord." ^ Now, how did he this ?
he worked no miracle, he preached no new truth ; he enforced upon
them the duty of doing at once what they well knew to be right.
" Eepent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." " Now also the
axe is laid to the root of the trees ; every tree, therefore, Avhich
bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire."
As though he said, " Now is the accepted tirae ; amend your lives
by the rule of God's commandments before it be too late : soon the
light will show itself in the world ; if ye be still in your sins when
it shall show itself ye will reject it and bring on yourselves con
demnation : and this is the condemnation, that men love darkness
rather than light, because their deeds are evil." And to the people
he said : " He that hath two coats let him impart to him that hath
none ; " and to the publicans, " Exact no more than that which is
appointed you ; " and to the soldiers, " Do violence to no man,
neither accuse any falsely ; " to all, then, he gave no new command
ment, no new truth, but he urged on them the very first principles
of the law they professed, as a beginning frora which they were to
proceed to higher obedience.
I am not now, however, going to speak of the efficacy of
obedience in leading us to the first acknowledgment of divine
truths (though this, indeed, is perhaps a much more practical sub-i
ject to us all than seems at first sight), but rather to its power in
enabling us to grasp and realise what we have long since professed
to believe ; and this is indeed to know of the doctrine whether it be
of God ; rightly to apprehend divine truth is to perceive it to be
divine. Unbelievers are always (from their oavu fault, indeed) mis-
apprehenders. When fairly set before the mind it carries its own
1 Matt. xi. 19. 2 Luke i. 17.

APPENDIX B 419

evidence vrith it ; and I say the one great means which we have
that it may fairly be set before our minds is strict obedience.
But it is not only vrith those who are disposed to erroneous doctrines
that the trath holds ; it no less apphes to each one of us, in a man
ner probably much more practically interesting to us, that before the
beginning of a course of steady, self-denying obedience we can have
no real apprehension of religious truth. The apostles seem plainly
to have put before their converts, as weU as before the unbelieving
multitude, the plain elements of duty before the high mysteries of
the Gospel. And we see just the same thing in the Avay of nature ;
for observe, infants are, we know, baptized, and from the very fhst
dawn of reason their religious course must begin. Noav, how soon
do they become capable of and do, in fact, exercise themselves in
lessons of obedience, faith, and self-denial ? How long do they go
on in these habits before we can possibly, be we ever so desirous of
doing it, make them understand or act upon the great objects of
Christian faith ? And if we have neglected God's appointed order
of instruction, if we have fallen from our childhke innocence and
suUied our baptismal purity (alas ! how few of us have not), we
must be converted and become like little children if Ave would enter
into the kingdom of heaven. We must learn of them : " Lord, I
am not high-minded, I have no proud looks, I do not exercise
myself in great matters which are too high for me, but I refrain my
soul and keep it low like a child that is weaned frora his raother," ^
— that is, in the words of a liring comraentator, as the Aveaned
child lies on its mother's breast peacefully and Arithout any longing
for Avhat before it sought irapetuously, so my soul lies motionless
in me, weaned from all its desires and wills, and confiding in God.
Such is the right feeling of a beginner in religious obedience, though
in one sense, indeed, we are all beginners ; he will not think him
self worthy of any sudden burst of religious light, but keeping his
soul low, he will wait for God's good time in gradually bringing
him forward to the knowledge of divine things.
Obedience comes first, knoAvledge afterwards; it is by being pure
in heart that we see God, not by seeing God that we first become pure
in heart ; the Holy Ghost leads those Avho yield themselves to Him,
first to the amendment of their hearts, and then to the great objects
of faith. Noav if this be so, how thoroughly mistaken and unhappy
are they who think they begin a really religious Ufe by regularly
coraing to church, praying morning and evening, and reading the
Scriptures, right and necessary though these be, and fancy that in
course of time a thorough obedience of Arill and thought to God
will, as it were, naturally follow. I do not scruple to say that the-
very opposite course is nearer the truth ; men have been good
' Ps. cxxxi.

420 APPENDIX B

Christians before now who have not had the Scriptures, no man
has ever been a good Christian who has not had self-denial. I say
it would be nearer the right course to begin by exercising ourselves
day by day in a life of obedience for Christ's sake and as in God's
sight, and not think ourselves worthy of coming to church or read
ing the Scriptures till we had made some progress in such a lffe. I
do not say that would be a right course ; it would be a very wrong
one. God allows us from the very beginning the great privilege of
seeking Him in prayer (especially where most He is found, in His
church), and of reading His sacred words in Scripture. But till we
have begun this course of unswerving devotion to His vrill, in all
things great and small as they occur through the day, we have not
been really capable of any religious exercises at all ; our reading of
Scripture, or prayer, or thought of Christ, has been the dream of
religion, not the substance. Obedience is the very air in which
religious faith lives ; without obedience it languishes and dies.
The same lesson is taught us by the preaching of the Apostles
and Evangelists in the book of Acts, in which religious truth is ever
revealed to individuals in proportion to their actual advance in
religious obedience. The first principles of righteousness, temper
ance, and judgment to come are urged upon Felix, while the elders
of Ephesus are reminded of the divine nature and the sacrifice of
Christ, and the presence and power of the Holy Spirit in the
Church ; while among those converts who were made the chief
instruments of spreading the Gospel at first, or who are honoured
with especial favour in Scripture, none are found who had not been
faithful to the light aheady given them, and distinguished, previous
to their conversion, by a strictly conscientious deportment. Such
then is the great proof vouchsafed to us by God of the truth of
what we have been taught; a proof open alike to learned and
unlearned, so they be simple-minded, childlike, and obedient ; closed
alike from high and low, rich and poor,, who are without those
graces. God has " hid these things from the wise and prudent and
revealed them unto babes." He who learns the truth from argu
ment or from mere trust in man may lose it again by argument or
by trust in men ; .but he who learns it by obedience can lose it only
by disobedience, "he that believeth on the Son of God hath the
witness in himself." ^ And hear our Lord's own words as to the
security of that faith which is built upon obedience : " Whosoever
heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them, I Avill liken him to a
Avise man which built his house upon a rock ; and the rain descended
and the fioods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house,
and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock. And every one
1 1 John V. 10.

APPENDIX B 421

that heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them not, shall bc
likened unto a foolish man which built his house upon the sand ;
and the rain descended and the floods came, and the Arinds blcAv
and beat upon that house, and it feU, and great was the fall of it." ^
Let each one of us, then, ff unhappily as yet we have it not, try
anxiously to learn the habit of acting on rehgious trath as soon as
we have gained it; and looking eagerly for more. Let us try to learn
the habit of dwelling upon religion not as a matter of curious
interest, much less of rude argument, but of deep practical import
ance ; nor need we doubt that in proportion as we acquire this
blessed habit, the Holy Ghost will lead us step by step away from
all serious error. Our way of expressing our thoughts may still be
ever so erroneous, but our thoughts themselves avUI be in the main
trae and good ; and truth, like obedience, is of the heart, not of the
lips. The guides we still follow may themselves be ever so blind,
but to us their words will convey a trath that they themselves per
haps dream not of : "I have more understanding than my teachers,
for thy testimonies are my study." God speaks to us first by our
parents, next perhaps by our schoolmasters and teachers, next by
His ministers ; all these different instructions come as avo knoAV
from God ; we know it, if from no other reason, from tho very fact
that we are in the natural course of things brought under them.
And these different instructors may perhaps seem to speak on some
subjects a very different language from each other, but he Avho goes
from one to other, grasjung and realising all doctrine as it is put
before him, and at once acting upon it, Avill even Avithout knowing
it, have what is false crumble away under his grasp from its oavu
rottenness, while he more and more grows into and makes part of
himself what is true. And so it is that frequently God's faithful
servants speak a very different language from each other, and think
their differences very wide ; not that tiiere is really more than one
narrow way which leads to salvation, but that those who in reward
of their obedience have really been guided into the true way, keep
nevertheless the sounds taught them, and the ways of expression
comraon amortg those teachers, who, themselves in error, have yet
been God's instruments in leading them to truth. Not that at last
obedience by itself will lead them into all the trath, though it AriU
rescue them from error. Those who obeyed John Baptist's preaching
ever so faithfully did not find out Christ's doctrine for themselves,
but they received and acknoAvledged it Avhen He came ; they found
that in His teaching, in His very bearing and manner, Avhat exactly
ansAvered to the Avants and cravings they felt within them, and
which "declared unto them" Avhat they had "ignorantly wor
shipped." And so, though in ever so diminished a measure, God's
1 Matt. vii. 24-27.

422 APPENDIX B

truth, spoken though it be by fallible man, has on the whole in it
that voice of God Himself Avhich is recognised as His voice by His
elect, by those who have trained themselves in such obedience as I
have described. If we are such, we need no other evidence : we
embrace and act upon it. Yet every day of so acting brings with
it a fuller and more consoling certainty, for " all who venture for
Christ receive daily returns in confirmation of their choice.''

APPENDIX C
BecoUections of "W. G. 'Ward at Oxford, by The 'Vei7 Rev. 'W. C. Lake, Dean
of Durham.
Dear Mb. Ward — When you asked me last year to give you some
of my impressions of your father's character and influence in the
days when I best knew him at Oxford, I felt at once that the per
son who would have been incomparably the most able to do this
was the late Dean of Westminster, especially from his graphic
power, and from his early intimacy with your father. I was never
on exactly the same terms with him as Stanley was. But as he
and others who knew your father well, such as Archbishop Tait and
Dr. Oakeley, have now passed away, I Avill do my best to put
together a few notes which may help to recall the remembrances of
a time now equally dear and touching to me.
From the year 1835 to 1840 — i.e. during the Avhole period of
his tutorship at Balliol — no tutor in Oxford seems to me to have
had so much intellectual influence over his pupils as W. G. Ward.
It was no doubt in some respects an influence of a pecuUar kind,
and was perhaps mainly due to his extraordinary inteUectual
activity and animation ; for these Avere so great that even when his
friend or pupil entirely declined to follow him to his practical con
clusion, he was for a time held, as it were, in the tight grip of his
logic ; and his points were always so forcibly and unhesitatingly
put — though sometimes, it might he said, paradoxicaUy — that they
left their traces upon many of us for life. I ought, however, to
I add that this was more strongly felt in BalUol than in the rest of
the University. It was the feAv Avho lived Arith him familiarly over
whom he obtained this strong intellectual influence ; on the rest of
the University his infiuence was rather that of the ideas which he
scattered broadcast. He himself was regarded by most of those,
even among his theological friends, [who met hira only casuaUy and
in general university society], as recklessly parado.xicah
The first time I ever heard of him was in a letter, which I was
reading lately, from Stanley to myself (I was then a boy at Eugby,
in the year 1834). "Last night," he says, "a large moon-faced

424 APPENDIX C

raan. Ward, formerly of Ch. Ch., now of Lincoln, rushed into
Faber's rooms (Father Faber), and seeing me, inquired at once when
the new volume of Arnold's sermons was to be out;" and he Avent
on to describe him as an ardent follower of Archbishop Whately
and admher of Arnold. This was Ward's " phase " for two or three
years, tiU about 1837, and whUe his "Arnoldism" was acceptable
enough to some of us who were still under the rod of the same
magician, we could not quite stand his " Whatelyisms," which
startled not a little some of my own intimate friends, particularly
S. Waldegrave, afterwards Bishop of Carlisle, and then and always
a most zealous Evangelical, and E. M. Goulbourn, now Dean of
Norwich. Goulbourn, whose keen humour played, though in a
very Idndly manner, with everything and everybody in college,
very soon knew Ward by no other name than the " Fat Fellow " ;
and Ward, on the otiier hand, had a malicious pleasure in assaihng
Goulbourn, sometimes not over-reverently, for his intense Bibliolatry.
With Waldegrave, who had no touch of humour in his character,
and who regarded Ward with a comic mixture of liking and horror,
he never ventured to approach the subject.
Coming to Oxford, as I did, some four or five years after your
father, I can give you no full account of his undergraduate life, of
which you will probably have heard from others. But his reading
had been rather idle and desultory, and unless I am mistaken, it was
only some loss of fortune by your grandfather which determined
him to stand for a Fellowship. He was not ready to go into the
schools at the time prescribed by Christ Church (which then, together
with Balliol, was strict in allowing only three undergraduate years),
and by some luck managed to get a late scholarship at Lincoln,
where he resided two or three terms before his election to Balliol.
He was elected to an open Fellowship, when he rather startled his
competitors by stretching himself on the fioor of the Master's dining-
room and going to sleep for an hour before he began his essay.
He always spoke as if during his undergraduate days the Union
Avas the great stimulus of his intellectual life, and his conversation
Avas rich in stories of the debates. "Here comes old Ward, the
Avalking incarnation of the Union," exclaimed once Lord Cardwell,
as he saw him sauntering in to a late breakfast -party at Balliol.
He always maintained that for life and energy of discussion the
Union was in its best days in his time — better than even in the
preceding generation of Mr. Gladstone, when it had scarcely attained
its maturity. I have lost sight of the Union now for nearly forty
years, and I believe the last speech I heard was one of Lord Salis
bury's, then Lord Eobert Cecil, a young undergraduate at Christ
Church, and an uncommonly good one it was. I remember being
much struck with its ease and its clever repartee, and always
prophesied that the man who made it would some day take a great

APPENDIX C 42s

' place in public life. And certainly both in Ward's and the foUoAving
generation the Union did. a great deal for us in giving us seff-
confidence and readiness of speech. It had then a goodly hst of
speakers, EoundeU Palmer (afterwards Lord Chancellor Selborne),
Eobert Lowe (Lord Sherbrooke), E. CardweU (Lord CardweU), A C.
Tait (afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury), aU spoke frequently
and with great vigour, and of one and all of them Ward had many
stories to tell. It would be unfair to omit one who was in some
respects the most effective speaker of them all, George (afterwards
Canon) Trevor, whose finishing achievement was a veheraent on
slaught on the then comraittee of the Union and all its leaders, which
gave Oxford a whole terra of animated private debates (the Easter
term of 1835); and though I am afraid that the ingratitude of recent
generations has now entirely forgotten it, this was long remerabered
as the grand recorded occasion of Union declaraation and invective.
His Union career was too great a feature in Ward's Oxford Ufe
to be omitted ; but I pass on to a period Avhen I knew him much
better, having come up to Balliol as a scholar in 1835, and found
him just beginning work as mathematical tutor. I was in a certain
sense his pupil, though for a very short time, as I was not reading
mathematics ; but his relations with some of his pupils, especially
Stanley and myself, and afterwards (still more closely) Arith Clough,
were almost solely those of an intimate friend. Both Stanley and
Clough he indeed absorbed to an extent Avhich was far from popu
lar with their friends. His whole lffe may then be said to have
consisted in his conversation, and to us younger men it Avas to a
wonderful extent powerful and attractive. One might almost say
that he was the last of the great Conversationalists — at least, I have
never met any one at all like or equal to him since, — and held a
place, in a different sphere, and with much younger men, like that
which S. T. Coleridge held in the eyes of Frederic Maurice and
Sterling, at Highgate.
His reading and his opinions were, and continued to be for some
years, a rather curious mixture. In plulosophy he was, or believed
himself to be, a thorough Benthamite, and devoted especiaUy to
" young Mill," whose articles in the London Beview of those days Ave
all eagerly devoured. Without ever having been an "Arnoldian,"
he was a warm admirer of Arnold as well as 'Whately, and on a visit
to Arnold so plied him with his pitiless logic, and on every sort of
question, that he left him in a fever, Avhich actuaUy confined him for
some days to bed. But all this was temporary : the man who really
onthraUed him, as his subsequent Ufe showed, was Cardinal, then Mr.
NeAvman. I have some difficulty in saying what fibrst drew him to
NeAvman, — probably simply attendance at his sermons, and perhaps
ft habit of discussing all matters human and dirine with Stanley, who
for a time Avas rather NeAvmanistic himself, and of whom Ward once

426 APPENDIX C

told me that he was kept by him with difficulty from joining New
man altogether. I suspect, however, from Stanley's whole character,
that the adhesion would have been a very temporary one.
But the fact is that NeAvman's influence, direct and indhect,
over nearly all the more thoughtful of the undergraduates, for the
four or five years when he Avas at the zenith of his power, was a
thing which it is difficult now to describe, looking back at it at the
distance of fifty years, without either the appearance or the reality of
exaggeration. It was no doubt mainly due to his sermons, which,
singularly simple in appearance, were soon felt to possess that wonder
ful combination of religious elevation and inteUectual force and
beauty which is attractive everywhere, but above all to young men
just entering life at an University. I will not attempt to describe
them. This has been admirably done by one of my oldest friends,
the late Professor Shahp : but this I may say, that I cannot
imagine a higher tribute to Cardinal Newman than the high tone of
moral feeling which, so far as I can judge (and I had large means
of judging), prevailed in the Oxford society of young men during
the period of his influence. No doubt it was rather a peculiar
time : with something perhaps of " the torrent's smoothness ere it
dash below " ; sceptical questions had not corae on : Coleridge and
Mill were still our only philosophers : Arnold, who was regarded
Arith something of horror by many of the High Church, had never
held any language than that " belief in Christ was simply identical
with moral goodness"; but allowing for all this, I cannot but
think that the high and unworldly tone of University life in
Newman's day was a remarkable phenomenon, and was chiefly due
to him. Ward was only one of many to whom he may be said to
have been a spiritual father.
I hope you wUl forgive me this digression, for which my
only apology is the remembrance of some of the happiest days
of life. I do not at all speak as if the young men of those days
had anything like a dead uniformity of opinion. Ward's chief
sphere of talk, for instance, was the Balliol Common Eoom, and
there for sorae three years after I first knew it as a Fellow, he
and the late Archbishop Tait had their almost daily, and always
most friendly, battle. They were, in different ways, equally able,
and, I may add, to their old pupils equally lovable. 'Tait, a
born Scotchman, was perhaps, of all men in Oxford, the most
distinct antithesis to NeAvmanism, and we some of us charged him
Arith being too imaginative to understand Newman's character.
He saw too, better than most of us, how things were really going,
and was by no means happy in finding that many of his attached
pupUs were drifting away from him. This might in ordinary men
have led to feelings of theological bitterness between him and
Ward ; but it is a proof of the large and generous character of the

APPENDIX C 427

two men that nothing of the kind ever occurred. And even after
Tait had first roused the University authorities to attack Newman
by his protest against Tract No. 90, and Ward had been tumed
out of his tutorship in consequence of his pamphlet on the
occasion, the friendship of the two men continued as before, — each
really admired and valued the other. I have met Ward on visits
to Tait both at Eugby and at Fulham, and the last publication of
the Archbishop contains an affectionate tribute to "Ward and Dr.
Oakeley, as two of the most devoted and high-minded men he had
ever known,
I am afraid I have been led on to write at greater length than
I intended, and yet I feel that there is much in your father's
inteUectual life and character which I must have omitted. "What
I have mainly Arished to convey to you is that he was a great
centre of intellectual life to us as undergraduates and as Junior
Fellows, and if I cannot but think that his infiuence was somewhat
alloyed by his love of paradox, and the haste with which he
jumped at his conclusions, I feel also that this was in great part
compensated by his candour, his singleness of purpose, and the
honesty and courage with which he followed out his convictions.
It was no ordinary charm to young men to be in constant contact
Arith one who had so thoroughly the courage of his opinions. Ma}-
I add that I hope we wore equally influenced by his high example
of purity and religious sincerity ? — I am, dear Mr. Ward, yours
very faithfully, W. C. Lake, Dean of Durham.
October 1, 1886.

APPENDIX D
Recollections of AY. G. 'Wai-d, and of the Oxford Movement, by the Rev. B.
Jowett, Master of Balliol.
[In publishing the following recollections of my father, which I'
owe to the kindness of Professor Jowett, I need hardly say that I
am not able to accept in every particular his account either of the
Tractarian party or of my father's own views. The affection and
respect with which he speaks of my father, and the genial rela
tions which existed between the two men in private life, are of
course the more remarkable from the fact that Professor Jowett
Avas unable to understand or sympathise with the aims of the Ox
ford school. This is not the place to comment in detail upon inci
dental statements in a paper for which I owe the writer my most
grateful acknowledgments, and which adds so much to the value of
my book ; I will only suggest — and I know he will not misunder
stand my doing thus much — that with reference to the Tractarians,
as in the case of any party consisting of men of unequal acquire
ments and abUity, criticisms may be made with some truth upon
individual members, which do not apply to the representative
minds. I am led to note this by observing that Coleridge and
Wordsworth are two of the Avriters whom the Tractarians are said
by Professor Jowett to haye regarded "with suspicion " ; yet Keble
has spoken of Wordsworth as " divinse veritatis antistes," ^ and
Newman in 1839 referred to Coleridge as "providing a philosophi
cal basis for [the Oxford Movement]," as "instilling a higher
philosophy into inquhing minds than they had been accustomed to
accept."] ^
Dear Mr. Ward — You have asked rae to give you my recol
lections of your father when he was at Oxford. They go far back
into the past. During the latter half of his life I saw him only
two or three times — once at Cowes in the Isle of Wight about
twenty-five years ago, and again more than once at Freshwater ten or
eleven years ago. Though he was attached to Balliol College arid
' See Dedication of Keble's Prelectiones Academicce.
^ See British Critic, vol. xxv. p. 400.

APPENDIX D 429

had an extraordinary memory of the ways of the place, and of all
that was said and done there in his own time, he could never be
persuaded to revisit his old haunts ; he was not in Oxford, I think,
after he left the English Church. But between the years 1838,
when I was elected a Fellow of Balliol, and 1845, during term time
I used to see him daily, and I shall always have a great affection
for his memory. My contemporaries and friends in those days,
Arthur Stanley, B. C. Brodie, Hugh Pearson, Arthur Hugh Clough,
the Bishop of London, the Deans of Durham and Norwich, Lord
Coleridge, Constantine Prichard, and others who were his friends as
well as mine, though of different ages, were all, like myseff, several
years his juniors.
The Fellows of Balliol at that time were a very united body,
and not undistinguished. (1) There was John Carr, the senior
Fellow, a refined gentleman and scholar, full of humourous sayings
and out-of-the-way learning, but fanciful and eccentric. He was
believed to have been disappointed in love, and the disappointment
seemed to have left a mark on his character. He Avas grave and
solitary. He used to laugh sadly, as if he were taking himself to
task for ever indulging in mirth. He was a sort of person who, if
he had lived two centuries earlier, might have been the author of
Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy. He would read all the morning,
and after dinner bring out of his treasure house some quaint saying
or curious anecdote, which he found or pretended to have found in
a recondite or unknown author.^ He could scarcely be said to havc
studied with a purpose. (2) Next to hira on the list of FeUows Avas
Frederic Oakeley, an elegant writer and a great lover of music,
much respected by us. He became a member of the Eoman Church
about the same time as your father, and led the life of a saint
among the Cathohc poor in London. (3) Ten years younger than
either of these, and a contemporary of your father's, Avas A. C. Tait,
who had been a Scholar and Exhibitioner, and Avas a Fellow and
Tutor of the CoUege, full of sense, humour, and kindness, a shreAvd
Scotchman, as he was sometimes thought, Avho at that time, between
the years 1835 and 1842, devoted to the College the great qualities
which afterwards made him eminent in the world. From early
days it was predicted of' him that he would become Archbishop of
Canterbury. He Avas one of the foAv by whom high preferment
was never sought and to whom it did no harm. He was always
kind and tolerant, and had something of the statesman in his nature.
He never forgot an old friend, even when differences of opinion
might have made it convenient to drop him. In his later years,
> One of his inventions which I happen to remember is worth preserving :
"'Vera sunt vera ac falsa sunt falsa. At si ecclesia dixerit vera esse falsa ac
falsa esso vera, tum vera sunt falsa ac falsa sunt vera." This oracular saying he
brought out with great seriousness as a quotation from BeUarmiue.

430 APPENDIX D

when Archbishop, he used to pay an annual visit to the College
and to preach in the College chapel. (4) There was J. M. Chapman,
a good man, meek and gentle, but not at all learned or able, and
rather prejudiced. (5) P. H. S. Payne, a man of noble and simple
character, remembered by few, for he died early; an Ireland
scholar, and a friend of the late Professor Halford 'Vaughan and
the present Dean of Christ Church. He was of unusual stature.
(6) And I must not forget the late Dean of Eochester, afterwards
Master of the College, who was very kind to me in early life, an
excellent man, though not liberal or enlightened, and a distinguished
scholar, possessing stores of information on a great variety of
subjects, — too much given to punning, but also a real humourist.
He was the author of many ingenious mots, and famous for a
copy of Greek Hexameters in which he described the Heads of
Houses going to the instaUation of the Duke of Wellington. These
admirable verses were long remerabered and quoted in the
University. These were all our seniors, and most of them your father's
contemporaries, with whom he held many an argument in the
Common Eoom; and, like Socrates in the Symposium, never,
I think, was worsted by any of them. There were two or three
other FelloAvs, men who have left very pleasant recollections of
themselves, such as (7) Lewis Owen, and (8) James Lonsdale —
the latter an excellent scholar and teacher, with whom he was less
acquainted. In those days the conversation in the Common Eoom
used to fiow fast and freely, for several of the Fellows were good
talkers in their different ways. On one Sunday, soon after I was
elected, I remember his bringing his father to dine with us — " the
great Mr. William Ward," as he is still called in cricketing circles.
On that Sunday it happened that his son had been preaching in
chapel on the subject of apostasy, which led the elder Mr. Ward
to discourse to us of the political apostasy of some of his -parlia
mentary friends. On another occasion Dr. Arnold was entertained
by us in the Common Eoom. Your father had formerly been his
friend, and had lately attacked him with considerable asperity in
the British Critic, so that the relations between them had become
rather strained, and the conversation was carried on vrith difficulty.
Visits to the Common Eoom made by Mr. Gladstone, Lord Dufferin,
Lord Cardwell, a former Fellow, and other distinguished persons
are also remembered by me.
In attempting to pourtray the Balliol of fifty years ago I must
not forget the figure of the old Master, who was very different from
any of the Fellows, and was held in considerable awe by them.
He was a gentleman of the old school, in whom were represented
old manners, old traditions, old prejudices, a Tory and a Church
man, high and dry, Avithout much literature, but having a good deal

APPENDIX D 431

of character. He filled a great space in the eyes of the under
graduates. " His young men," as he termed them, speaking in an
accent which we aU remember, were never tired of mimicking his
voice, drawing his portrait, and inventing stories about Avhat he
said and did. There was a time when at any party of BaUiol men
meeting in after life he would have been talked about. His sermon
on the " Sin that doth so easily beset us," by which, as he said in
emphatic and almost acrid tones, he meant " the habit of contract
ing debts," will never be forgotten by those who heard it. Nor
indeed have I ever seen a whole congregation dissolved in laughter
for several minutes except on that remarkable occasion. The
ridiculousness of the effect was heightened by his old-fashioned
pronunciation of certain words, such as "rayther," "wounded"
(which he pronounced like "wow" in "bow-wow"). He Avas a
considerable actor, and would put on severe looks to terrify Fresh
men, but he was really kind-hearted and indulgent to them. He
was in a natural state of war with the Fellows and Scholars on the
Close Foundation ; and many ludicrous stories were told of his
behaviour towards them, of his dislike of smoking, and of his
enmity to dogs. It was sometiraes doubted whether he was a Arit
or not : I myself am strongly of opinion that he was. Some
excellent things were undoubtedly said by hira, but so fertUe Avas
the genius of undergraduates that, as in sorae early histories, it is
impossible to separate accurately what is mythical from what is
trae in the accounts of him. One evening he suddenly appeared
in HaU to strike terror into a riotous party, and found that the
Master's health had been proposed and that an undergraduate Avas
already on his legs returning thanks in his name. He was com
pared by John Carr to a famous old mulberry tree in the garden,
well-known to all Balliol men ; Avhile of another mulberry tree ncAvly
planted, Carr said, " And that is Tait." Ho was short of stature
and very neat in his appearance ; the deficiency of height Avas more
than compensated by a superfluity of magisterial or ecclesiastical
dignity. He' was much respected, and his great services to the
College have always been acknowledged. But even uoav, at the
distance of more than a generation, it is hnpossible to think of him
Avithout some humorous or ludicrous association arising in the
mind. Your father and he had a liking for one another, which
was, hoAvever, in some degree interrupted by their ecclesiastical
differences. To understand the great influence Avhich, during a few years,
your father exercised at Oxford, it is necessaiy to appreciate the
state of the University. He came upon a tirae Avhen the senior
members, Avith the exception of Eouth, the President of Magda
lene, Avho belonged to the prerious generation and was to us a
nominis umbra, Avere comparatively undistinguished. Whately and

432 APPENDIX D

Copleston had been translated to another sphere ; Blanco White,
the celebrated convert from Catholicism, had ceased to reside ;
Hampden, the Eegius Professor of Divinity, had little influence.
It was an age of young men. J. H. Newman was only about
thirty-seven years old, Pusey a year older, your father ten years
younger. None of the leaders of the Moveraent were, I think, at that
time acquainted Arith German, except Dr. Pusey, who eraployed
his knowledge for the raost part in the refutation of the old Gerraan
Eationalism. To say the truth, the learning of that day was of a
rather attenuated sort. Dean Gaisford was probably the only
person in the University who had a European reputation. Another,
Avho was thought by your father and others to be a true genius,
was the late Professor Donkin. Of him your father said to me in
his manner : " Next to the great man he is the most distinguished
person in Oxford." The energy and ability of that generation were
out of proportion to their attainments. Hardly any one had read
the works of Kant or Hegel, which have since exercised a great
influence upon Oxford study. Very little was known of Plato.
The philosophy of that day was contained in Aristotle's Ethics and
Blietoric and in Butler's Analogy and Sermons. These works, how
ever, were not taken in their original meaning, but were adapted to
current theology and the wants of the English Church ; and they
were valued as much for their defects as for their merits. Men
found what they brought to them, and saw in them what they
wished to see. There was very little true interpretation of any
book* in those days. Hampden alone was a real Aristotelian
scholar. For political economy, for Locke, and for utilitarian
philosophy, a supreme dislike and contempt was entertained.
Coleridge and even Wordsworth were also regarded with suspicion,
as in the tendency of their writings likely to be adverse rather
than favourable to the Tractarian Movement. On the other hand
there was a revival of Patristic study, which was pursued diligently
but in the same uncritical spirit, and without much result. The
writings of some of the older English divines, such as Andrews,
Ken, Wilson (Bishop of Sodor and Man), Hammond, Bull, Beveridge,
were reprinted and commended, perhaps more than they were read.
There Avas a sympathy shown towards Nelson, Wharton, Alexander
Knox, and other High Church laymen, while the foreign and
English reformers (Luther, Cranmer, etc.) were steadily depreciated ;
and some of the old gossip of the days of the Eeformation was
revived about them. A distinction was maintained between the
Eoman Church before and after the Council of Trent, which was
regarded not as the reform of the evils of the Catholic Church, but
as the source of them, an opinion at variance with history, which
several of the maintainers of it afterwards found out to be a mistake.

APPENDIX D 433

Among the predisposing causes of the Movement may be reckoned
a reaction against the Eeform Bill, or rather araong the clergy a
dislike and dread of it, and a fear of the evils which a Liberal
Ministry would sooner or later bring upon the Church ; the proposed
reform of the Cathedrals, and the fear of national education becom
ing irreligious, or at least being no longer under the control of the
Church of England. Lesser causes or at least signs of the approach
ing change were the pubhcation of the Christian Year, — so different
in spirit from any previous book of hymns; the Hampden con
troversy, beginning in 1836 on his appointment to the Eegius
Professorship of Divinity and ending about ten years later on his
nomination to a Bishopric ; the charge of Bishop Blomfield, in Avhich
he recommended the clergy to wear surplices in the pulpit, the
sermons of J. H. Newman at St. Mary's, the Tracts for the Times.
The Movement advanced with unequal steps. It was long before
the High Church clergy in the country understood the purposes of
their friends at Oxford. During the last twenty years, when it has
been most silent, it has perhaps exerted a greater influence than
previously, when many more books were written and it made a far
greater noise in the world.
Like most periods of transition (I am speaking chiefly of the
years between 1838 and 1846), the Tractarian Movement was
not altogether consistent with itself. While some Avere for
going forward to the Church of Eome, others were for standing on
what they supposed to be the old paths. I remenibtT your father
telling me about the year 1844 (and he quoted a higher authority
than his own) that " if the change Avas as great in the next eight
years as in the eight years which had preceded, the Church of
England would be in communion with the Church of Eome."
The change of opinion from year to year had been imperceptible :
but tho difference after many years Avas found to be very great.
The commonplaces of Conservatism Avere at first invoked, but soon
tossed to the winds — especially by the younger adherents of the
new opinions. Your father was one of these irreverent persons.
I remember the consternation which he produced in the Balliol
Common Eoom when a party of High Churchmen was present, by
propounding the dictum that " the beheading of King Cliarles I. was
the only thing to be done under the circumstances." The real
spring of the Moveraent was the revival of the Catholic sphit which
had long sliunbered in England, and Avas now beginning to stir /xe-yas
II' TouTois ^eos oi5S^ yrjpda-deL. The intellectual elements seem at a
distance to have been poor and slight, but they were enough to
arouse the ecclesiastical spirit which Avas dormant in the University
and among the clergy. 'The new views were more kindly received
because they were believed to be the true but neglected doctrine of
the Church of England ; they Avere also thought to be the best safe-
2 F

434 APPENDIX D

guard against the Church of Eome. Of the influence which they
exerted, and of the enthusiasm called forth by them, there can be no
doubt. They aroused in many who did not wholly accept them a
higher sense of duty and a wish to devote their lives to the service
of their fellow men and of the Church. They led to many aspirations
Avhich were not destined to be fulfiUed. They suggested many new
ideas to the minds of persons Avho were unaccustoraed to think ;
they were in harmony Avith the tendencies of the greater number
among the clergy. " Thou marshaU'st me the way that I am going,"
"is a good argument and wiU on;" but the Movement upon the
whole was destructive rather than conservative, and many fine
characters and good intellects were shipwrecked or stranded by it.
Of course these opinions called forth a vehement opposition, not
only on the part of the " high and dry," as they were termed, who
were at that time in the ascendant at Oxford, but also of the
Evangelical clergy who saw more clearly than the maintainers of
them their inconsistency with the principles of the Eeformation.
They discovered afterwards that extremes meet ; for many, who in
their early homes had received an Evangelical education, found
their final rest in the bosom of the Eomish Church.
Your father soon perceived that the Anglican view of the Move
ment was untenable. It was not only illogical, but also unpractical.
No man could have his mind in two Churches at once, any more
than he could have his body in two places. No man could believe
"in the whole cycle of Eoman doctrine," and accept the thirty-nine
Articles in a breath. About the year 1840 I remember your father
telling me that the «a media could no longer be maintained, and that
Tractarianism must cease to be regarded as the safeguard against
Eome. He had been under the charm of Mr. Newman's influence ;
about that time he began to assert himself He had not much
caution or reticence, but he had a great faculty of saying in clear
language what he meant, and in some degree he precipitated the
Movement towards the Church of Eome by his outspokenness.
The leaders of the Movement, though not deficient in the wisdoin
of the serpent, had no true knowledge of the world ; they had never
applied the lessons of ecclesiastical history to their own times.
They did not consider that the string, if overstrained, Avould break,
or that their own type of character was suited to a very few ; it
never occurred to them that the Movement which they had created
would inevitably be followed by a reaction. Good and simple-
minded and accomplished men as they were, and quite free from any
taint of personal ambitiofi, they do not seera to have understood
that the power of the priest and of the confessional would no longer
be endured in England ; that we had put away casuistry, and were
determined to place religion on a moral and historical basis.
Nevertheless they rendered a signal serrice to the Enghsh Church

APPENDIX D 435

in making us regard our Catholic brethren in a kindlier and more
syrapathetic sphit. Henceforward the Church of Eome was to be
regarded no longer as Antichrist, but in a manner more in accordance
Arith Christian charity and with the trath of history.

I gladly pass from your father's theological position to my
recollections of him in private life. He was one of the most genial
men I have ever known, and a delightful companion. When in
health he was always the same, ready to laugh or join in a laugh
Avith any one. He had a friendly Avord for the College servants,
Avith Avhom he was a great favourite. His conversation never
flagged and was of all sorts. He had a great variety of jests,
anecdotes, stories, of his OAvn school days, or of his family, or of
persons whom he had knoAvn. He Avas fond of reciting sorae mock-
heroic verses in Latin and English, Avhich he had composed Avhen at
Winchester school. He had a knowledge which Avas prodigious of
the theatre and of theatrical persons and performances, acquired by
long habit when he was a boy, of going to the pit ; and he gratefully
remembered the numberless "three and sixpences" AA-hich his
parents had paid for him. This taste continued Avith him to the
last. He had a great Avish to raeet Macready, Avho Avas a stranger
to him, because he thought that they Avould both derive so much
pleasure from their common reminiscences. He Avould often break
out into snatches of song, comic or serious, or repeat Avhole scenes
out of the "Olympic Devils," a burlesque performed at the
Olympic Theatre, Avhich had a great run in those days. His fine
voice and his great love of rausic Avero expressive of the joviality of
his nature. Things serious and profane lay near together in his mind,
but they Avere not confused ; he Avas never in the least degree either
coarse or profane, though he might sometimes be misunderstood by
persons who do not themselves understand a jest I admit, hoAA'ever,
that he was not indisposed to startie those Avho were of a different
temper from his own — he had a sort of pleasure in doing so. He
once took me, on a Sunday evening, in the middle of summer, about
the year 1839, Avhen his change of opinions Avas still recent, to Mr.
Newman's church at Littlemore, Avhere he Avas to preach. We drove
out after dinner and Avalked home. Two things I reraeraber on that
occasion which Avere highly characteristic of him. The sermon which
he preached was a printed one of Dr. Arnold's, but Arith additions
and alterations Avhich, as he said, it Avould have driven the author
mad to hear. This indeed Avas true, for the intention of them Avas
to change the spirit of the discourse from Low or Broad to High

436 APPENDIX D

Church, retaining what was common to both. We walked back to
Oxford in the tArilight, along the Iffley Eoad. He was in high
spirits, and sang to me songs out of " Don Giovanni " and other
operas, with which his capacious memory was well stored. He Avas
not the less serious because he could pass an hour or two in this
way. As some of your readers may wish to know what manner of raan
he was in personal appearance, I will endeavour to describe hira.
He was about five feet nine in height, dark, but of a cheerful and
handsome countenance, readily breaking out into a smile, ungainly
in his movements, and uncommonly stout for his age. He was very
disorderly both in his dress and his apartments. The tables in his
room, never well furnished, were covered with books, pamphlets,
papers, tea things, writing materials, etc. Once or twice he made
an attempt, like other disorderly persons, to clear his Augean
stable, but it only resulted in sending to the binder a few loose
books and papers which were bound up together without regard to
their subjects, and labelled "Sermons, Operas, etc." These labisls
were declared by one of his friends to be symbolical of himself.
I cannot say that he was a good College tutor, though greatly
interested in the welfare of the College, for he had no method.
Once he was believed to have " sported his oak " when expecting a '
class. The attendance, as may easily be believed, speedily grew
thinner, and the undergraduates learned to " sport the oak " for
themselves. He was, for a time. Bursar of the College, — an office
which, in those days, was handed on from Fellow to Fellow without
any regard to the fitness of the holder. Your father was not a man"
of business, and he was not very successful in his administration of
the college revenues. At the end of his two years, he was sur
prised to find that he was credited with a surplus of several
hundred pounds, but the surplus was afterwards turned into a
deficit by the discovery that he had added up the arrears on the
wrong side of the page. No one was more amused at the mistake
than he was himself. He, however, did something to atone for the
error by the admirable manner in which he presided at the bursar's
dinner. I wiU leave others to speak of the great scene in the theatre
when he Avas deprived of his degree. He made an impressive,
though hastily prepared speech, by special permission of the
Chancellor, in English,, but the conciliation of his opponents was
far from his thoughts. We know the sequel. Nor wUl I dUate
upon another curious scene which occurred in the College chapel, on
the day of St. Simon and St. Jude, when the Master, with your
father, had gone up to the communion-table, — the latter, according
to custom, intending to read the Epistie for tfie day. But the
Master, who wanted to prevent his officiating, was too quick for

APPENDIX D 437

him, and had the satisfaction of himself reading, vrith much unction,
the words, " FoV there are certain raen crept in unawares who were
before of old ordained unto this conderanation." The Master was
anxious to deprive your father of his logical and mathematical
lectm'eships ; it was not so much to his tenure of the mathematical
as of the logical to which he professed to object. " For," said he,
" what heresy may not be insinuated in the form of a syllogism ? "
But it was difficult to dislodge him, for he was supported by a
raajority of the Fellows, and the Master Avas afraid to proceed.
Your father, however, gave hira an agreeable surprise by going to
him one morning after chapel and saying, in his lively way, " Master,
I am corae to resign into your hands my two lectureships." Nothing
more was said ; a weight had been removed from the bosom of both
of them, and they talked merrily together.
But I' must make your readers understand that in this
assemblage of pleasant qualities there Avas also an admixture
of seriousness which formed the basis of his character. I approach
this part of the subject with diffidence, because, being an outsider,
I may not have understood all his motives and feelings, though
he was very willing to impart them, and I may seem to intrade
too much on his private life. I think he Avas led to join the
Eoman Catholic Church chiefly for two reasons — (1) by a logical
necessity, because such a step seemed to be the natural con
clusion of premises which he had held for many years, and
in favour of which he had ahvays been arguing Avith himself
(2) But he had also another feeling. For the Avorld, and espe
cially for himself, there seemed to him to be a need of sorae
authority to which they could resign therasehes unreservedly.
He had never had any hope of finding the Avay of truth or of life
through philosophy, and the Avant of sorao guide Avas a practical
necessity to him, without which he could neither have clearness of
thought nor consistency in action. There Avas more than this, no
doubt. There were thoughts and feelings too deep to be spoken of.
I do not suppose that he ever hesitated for an instant about the
great change which he made in his life, or that he ever repented
having raade it. Only we used to observe that, after he became a
Eoman Catholic, he would speak in a more friendly and respectful
manner of the Church of England than he used to do Avhile he
continued in hor communion, and in a less enthusiastic manner of
the Church of Eome. Not unfrequently in conversation he Avould
draw comparisons botAveen the two Churches favourable to the
Church of England, especiaUy in reference to learning and education.
And his expressions Avere stronger than Avas quite agreeable to his
Catholic superiors. He told me that he had said to Cardinal
Wiseman : " When a Protestant meets a Catholic in controversy, it
is like a civilised man meeting a barbarian ; " and the Cardinal Avas

438 APPENDIX D

naturaUy a little put out by this remark. But it was your father's
habit to say anything that came into his head.
He was eminently English in his straightforwardness and
independence of character. His opinions on political and social
subjects Avere hardly, if at aU, affected by his Catholicism. A
friend, pushing matters a little too far, once asked him what part
he would have taken had he been living in the days of the Spanish
Armada; he could only reply that Queen Elizabeth was excom
municated. But from such contradictions of faith and patriotism
he generally found a way of escape. Having, as he entirely believed,
an indestructible basis of truth in the doctrines of the Church, he
could afford to view all secular matters in the light of reason and
experience. With German philosophy he had little acquaintance. In the
days of which I ara speaking, the speculative system which interested
him most was Comte's Philosophic Positive, at that tirae appearing in
a new series of volumes, to which he was greatly attracted. The
charm which this remarkable work exercised over hira was probably
due to Corate's high estimate of the Middle Ages, and the many other
superficial resemblances which occur in the system to the institutions,
and even to the doctrines of the Catholic Church. He introduced
the book into Oxford before it was known to those who were after
wards called Comtists. Another writer for whom he had a great
respect was John Stuart Mill. He admired his clearness and high
principle. In those days, — I am speaking chiefly of the years between
1840 and 1844, — we used to argue a good deal on subjects of
theology and philosophy. The last tirae I saw hira, he rerainded
rae that I charged him vrith " shallow logic " and that he retorted
on me with "misty metaphysics." This perhaps was not an unfair
account of the state of the controversy between us. I remember
his finishing up one of our arguments by saying that " the Eoman
Catholic Church was not more rigid in her definitions of truth than
the Protestant, but that she believed more truths to have been
revealed." He was fond of stating his views in a pointed form. It was he
who invented the expression "taking the Articles in a non-natural
sense," which afterwards became proverbial ; and at one time he
used to say that in subscribing to them " we were not all dishonest
together, but all honest together." I asked him why the leaders of
the Tractarian Movement, instead of explaining away the Articles by
casuistical distinctions, did not, like Dean Stanley and others,
rather contend for their being interpreted in a large and liberal
manner, or press for their abolition. He replied that such a mode
of dealing with them had been considered, but was thought to giA'e
too great an encouragement to Eationalism. About two years before
he joined the Church of Eome he bid me observe that " of late he

APPENDIX D 439

had ceased to speak Arith me on theological subjects, because I
seemed to think that there might be some important sense in which
Christianity was true, apart from the certainty of historical facts."
When I last saw him, in the Isle of Wight, I asked him whether
he thought there was any hope of a great Catholic revival, and in
what way it might be eff'ected. The answer was curious. He said
" Yes ! " and he thought that the change would he brought about,
(1) by a great outpouring of miraculous power in many parts of the
world; (2) by the rise of a new Catholic philosophy, for which
portions of Cardinal Newman's Grammar of Assent would form a
fitting basis.
All my personal recoUections of your father are of the pleasantest
kind. He was generous, considerate, affectionate, and rarely, if
ever, he was divided from any one by diSerence of opinion. He re
marked to me once how well he and Scott (Dean of Eochester) and
Tait (Archbishop of Canterbury) got on together, because they Avere
all equally in earnest about their duties to the College. His head
was perhaps a little turned by the extraordinary position in which
he found himself when not yet thirty years of age. His life, Avhile
a Fellow, was a remarkably happy one. He had no pleasing re
collections of childhood. He told me that he was happier at coUege
than at school ; happier as a Fellow than as an undergraduate ; and
the years were the happiest of all during which he was teaching
theology at Ware.
It has been a pleasure to me to be reminded of old times, to
recall many ancient kindnesses, and to acknowledge the intellectual
obligations which I owe to your father. Foav persons in our time
have exerted a greater infiuence on their contemporaries than he
did at Oxford when he was quite a young man. This influence
was due quite as much to the kindness and large-heartedness of his
nature, as to the charm of his conversation and his great dialectical
powers. An old friend of your father's, Lord Coleridge, who has read
the preceding remarks, thinks that I have not dwelt enough on the
jovial or festive side of his nature. I will add a few Avords on this
part of the subject. I have already said he was full of mirth and
joUity ; even when in pain, he Avas ready to laugh and make others
laugh all day long. His sayings and doings were in the mouth of
every one ; and, as I have compared him to Socrates in his dialec
tical powers, I would add that he was Uke Falstaff in his love of
making fun. It Avill be understood that neither of these compari
sons is to be taken quite literaUy. He Avas also " of a most noble
presence ; " and his laughter, if the Johnsonian test be applied to
hira, was "by no means contemptible." I hope that Lord Coleridge
wUl think that the omission of Avhich he complains is now supphed.
— Yours very sincerely, B. Joavistt.

APPENDIX E
The following extracts from Ti-act 90 give a general idea of the modes of
interpretation which it advocated— which Mr. 'Ward styled "subscribing the
Articles in a non-natural sense " : —
" Article XXI. — General councUs may not be gathered together
Avithout the commandment and will of princes, and when they
be gathered together, forasmuch as they be an assembly of men,
whereof all be not governed with the Spirit and Word of God, they
may err, and sometiraes have erred, in things pertaining to God."
That great bodies of raen, of different countries, may not meet
together without the sanction of their rulers, is plain from the
principles of civil obedience and from primitive practice. That,
Avhen met together, though Christians, they will not be all ruled \)j
the Spirit or Word of God, is plain from our Lord's parable of th6
net, and from melancholy experience. That bodies of men, deficient
in this respect, may err, is a self-evident truth, — unless, indeed,
they be favoured with some divine superintendence, which has to
be proved before it can be admitted. General councils, then, may
err {as such ; — may err), unless in any case it is promised, as a matter
of express supernatural privilege, that they shall not err; a case
which lies beyond the scope of this Article, or at any rate beside
its determination. Such a promise, however, does exist, in cases when general
councils are not only gathered together according to "the com
mandment and will of princes," but in the name of Christ, according
to our Lord's promise. The Article merely contemplates the human
prince, not the King of Saints. While councUs are a thing of earth,
their infallibility of course is not guaranteed ; when they are a
thing of heaven, their deliberations are overruled, and their decrees
authoritative. In such cases they are Catholic councils.
"Article XXII. — The Eomish doctrine concerning purgatory,
pardons (de indulgentiis), worshipping (de veneratione), and adora
tion, as well of images as of relics, and also invocation of saints, is
a fond thing (res est f utilis) vainly (inaniter) invented, and grounded

APPENDIX E . 441

upon no warranty of Scripture, but rather repugnant (contradicit)
to the Word of God. ..."
By "the Eomish doctrine" is not meant the Tridentine [state
ment], because this Article was draAvn up before the decree of the
" Council of Trent. What is opposed is the received doctrine of the
day, and unhappily of this day too, or the doctrine of the Eoman
schools ; a conclusion which is still more clear, by considering that
there are portions in the Tridentine [statements] on these subjects,
which the Article, far from conderaning, by anticipation approves,
as far as they go. For instance, the Decree of Trent enjoins con
cerning purgatory thus : — "Araong the uneducated vulgar let diffi
cult and subtle questions, which make not for edification, and seldom
contribute aught towards piety, be kept back from popular dis
courses. Neither let them suffer the public mention and treatment
of uncertain points, or such as look like falsehood." — Session 25.
Again about images : Due honour and veneration is to be paid
unto them, not that we believe tliat any divinity or virtue is in, tliem,
for which they should be worshipped (colendae), or that we should
ask anything of them, or that trast should be reposed in images, as
formerly was done by the Gentiles, Avhich used to place their hope
on idols . . ." — Ibid.
The doctrine ... of pardons, spoken of in the Article, is the
doctrine maintained and acted on in the Eoman Church, that re
mission of the penalties of sin in the next life may be obtained by
the power of the Pope, with such abuses as money payments con
sequent thereupon. ... On the Avhole, then, by the Eomish
doctrine of the veneration and worshipping of images and relics,
the Article raeans all maintenance of those idolatrous honours Avhich
have been and are paid them so commonly throughout the Church
of Eome, with the superstitions, profanities, and impurities con
sequent thereupon. . . .
"Article XXXI. — The sacrifice (sacrifici.a) of Masses, in which it
was commonly said that the priests did offer Christ for the quick
and the dead, to have remission of pain or guilt, Avere blasphemous
fables and dangerous deceits (perniciosse imposturte)."
Nothing can show more clearly than this passage that the
Articles are not written against the creed of the Eoraan Church,
but against actual existing eri'ors in it, Avhether taken into its
system or not Here the sacrifice of the Ilass is not spoken of, in
Avhich the special question of doctrine would be introduced ; but
"the sacrifice of 3Iasses," certain observiinces, for the most part
private and solitary, which the writers of the Articles knew to have
been in force in time past, and saAv before their eyes, and Avhich
involved certain opinions and a certain teaching. Accordingly the
passage proceeds, " in Avhich it was commonly said," which surely is
a strictly historical mode of speaking.

APPENDIX F
The following are some of the passages to which Cardinal Newman
has referred me, which describe, he says, Mr. Ward's line in the
Movement : —
" "Wliile my old and true friends Avere thus in trouble about me, I
suppose they felt not only anxiety, but pain, to see that I was graduaUy
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 Avas rising, as is usual
in doctrinal inquiries, and was sweeping the original party of the Move
ment aside, and was taking its place."
He then speaks of Mr. Oakeley, who, though he ceased to reside
at Oxford in 1839, was, at the outset, the member of the new
school whose University standing was highest. He was older than
the others, and, according to the Cardinal, more nearly resembled
the original Tractarian party in tone of mind. The typical members
of the new school are thus described : —
" That body of eager, acute, resolute minds who had begun their
Catholic life about the same time as [Oakeley], who knew nothing about
the via media, but had heard much about Eome. This new party
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 contro
versy. These men cut into the original Movement at an angle, fell across
its line of thought, and then set about turning that line in its own direc
tion. 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, biit
giring little certainty at the time as to which way they would ultimately
turn. " Though I neither was so fond (with a few exceptions) of the persons,
nor of the methods of thought, which belonged to this new school, as of
the old set, though I could not trust in their firmness of purpose, for, like
a swarm of flies, they might come and go, and at length be divided and
dissipated, yet I had an intense sympathy in their object, and in the direc-

APPENDIX F 443

tion in which their path lay, 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 and conscience against her usages, in spite of my
affection for Oxford and Oriel, yet I had a secret longing love or Home,
the mother 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 the danger of
being swayed in religious inquiry by our sympathy rather than by our
reason. And, moreover, the members of this new school looked np 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 mysteri-
ousness, shuffling, and underhand dealing from the majority."
• In the foUowing passage Ave have, apparently, the Cardinal's
own feeling at the time when on the one hand his enemies accused
him of disingenuousness, and on the other Ward attempted to force
his hand, and pressed for fuller statements than he chose to give : —
" I simply deny that I ever said anything 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 recognised in principles,
which I had honestly preached as an Ani;lican, conclusions favourable to
the cause of Rome. Of course, I did not like to confess this ; and, when
interrogated, Avas in consequence in perplexity. The prime instance of
this was the appeal to antiquity ; St Leo had overset, iu my own judg
ment, its force as the special argument for Anglicanism ; yet I was com
mitted to antiquity, together Avith the Avhole Anglican school ; what then
was I to say, when acute minds urged this or that, application of it against
the via media ? It Avas impossible that, in such circumstances, any
answer could be given Avhich was not unsatisfactory, or any behaviour
adopted Avhich Avas not mysterious. Again, sometimes in what I Avrote I
Aveut just as far as I saAv, and coidd 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
Avas asked whether certain conclusions did not follow from a certain
principle, I might not be able to teU 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 con
clusion in the concrete, and because a conclusion may be modified in fact
by a conclusion from some opposite principle. Or it might so happen

444 APPENDIX F

that my head got simply confused, by the very strength of the logic Avhicli
Avas 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 scandalised by unfeeling
logical inferences, which would not have troubled them to the day of their
death, had they not been forced to recognise them."
In the following extracts we seem to have a still plainer refer
ence to the contrast already referred to in the text between
Ward's love for the logical and dialectical method and Newman's
very different temper of mind :— -
" 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 some-
Avhat 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 meet them to my satisfaction. And a greater trouble
still than these logical mazes was the introduction of logic into every
subject whatever, so far, that is, as this was done. . . . One is not always
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 had taken so prominent a part
What I have been observing is, that this phase had a tendency to beArilder
and to upset me ; and that, instead of saying so, as I ought to have done,
perhaps from a sort of laziness I gave answers at random, which have led
to my appearing close or inconsistent"
The following letter, already quoted in the text, should be read
again in this connection. It is given in the Apologia as an illustra
tion of the state of mind described in the above extracts : —
" IGi/i, October 1842. — As to my being entirely with Ward, I do not
know the limits of my own opinions. If Ward says that this or that is
a development from what I have said, I cannot say yes or 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."

APPENDIX G
The foUoAring extracts from the Ideal of a Christian Church are
illustrations of points which have been touched on in the analysis
of that work in Chapter XI. They give — in the author's own
words — certain Unes of thought, indispensable to the understanding
of his intellectual position.
The first set of extracts have reference to his view that the
only office of the external framework of a Church is to protect anil
foster a certain inward ethical spirit — consequently that fraracAvork
raay within limits vary in different countries, being to some extent
modified by peculiarities of national character and customs.
Further, the spirit in question is only the fuller development of the
first lessons of natural religion in the human conscience — of the
idea of an external law imposed on our obedience by a righteous
power above us, and of the nature of that law. The law receives,
• however, fresh sanctions in the truths of Eevelation, its nature is
more clearly defined, and new strength is given by the ordinances
of the Church for its practical fulfilment.
Again, while the Church uniforraly protects and develops the
natural law, heresies have frora time to time introduced into Chris
tianity doctrines contrary to natural religion — as Avhen Lutheranism
has obscured or denied the intrinsic moral worth of obedience to
conscience. Lastly, in the practical carrying out of the Lutheran
spirit we see a religion of feeling taking the place of that of duty,
and trust in subjective feelings taking the place of obedience to a
law — which, though revealed within the heart, yet bears its own
evidence that it is not purely subjective, but is the creation and
refiection of an external Power.
" The only legitimate office of the external framework and constitu
tion of a Church is to be, flrst, the expression, mould, and protection of a
certain given religious spirit : and, secondly, the mode by Avhich this
spirit is brought to bear upon a certain given condition of society ; to pay
any serious regard to it, on any other principles, is the certain road to
the hollowest and most hideous formalism. First, then, let us endeavour
to secure what conus first ; let us learn, to the best of our power, to

446 ¦ APPENDIX G

understand and appreciate the various exigencies, tendencies, tastes, capa
bilities of the modern English character ; and in proportion as we
succeed in our attempts, by help of such knowledge, to promote and
forward the growth of this same Catholic spirit, the latter will clothe
itself in Avhatever external envelopment may be found ready at hand,
which it will quicken, enliven, and re-create, adopting it as the organ of
its expression and the minister of its will. What outward shape this
envelopment will ultimately assume, in what degree Catholicism Avill
modify our existing institutions, in what degree it will itself receive ' a
colour /j-om those institutions, and from our national character and disposi-.
tions ; all this, and much more of the same kind, it is vain and useless to
conjecture before the event Catholicism is something moral and spiritual,
not formal, external, circumstantial ; in doctrine, in sentiment, in prin
ciple, ever one and the same ; but elastic and pliant to adapt itself to all
conceivable circumstances, vigorous and full of life to cope with all con
ceivable emergencies. Take the case of an individual, whose religion
^ shall assume a more earnest or more orthodox character : we do not find
that his recognisable identity of mind is affected, any more than of hoAy. •
His numberless peculiarities of feeling .and disposition, taste and imagina
tion, intellectual cultivation and power, still remain undiminished in their
native distinctness and energy : although at the same time a new and
authoritative element has been introduced, which, to an inimitably in
creasing extent, controls, harmonises, and colours those peculiarities.
Let a number of serious and Catholic-minded men meet together ; how
very far will they be from exhibiting any artificial conformity to some
external and partial standard ; and yet for all this, a like-minded observer ,
will very easily discern, by means of indications far too ' subtle, delicate,
indirect, and spiritual,' to admit of analysis and formal expression, the'
essential oneness of principle, which animates and informs those accidental
diversities of character. What then would be thought of some disciple
in the school, who, being desirous of conforming more fully to the
Catholic model, should copy the expressions and gestures, or even the
argumentative methods and political opinions, of some one amongst their
number, instead of attempting, by legitimate means, to lodge more deeply
within his heart that essential principle which is common to them all ?
The application of this, from individuals to societies, is obvious." — {Ideal,
pp. 83-85). Again, speaking of the spirit of absolute submission in the
details of life to the will of God as a prominent feature in Catholic
life, he writes : —
" This feature of the Catholic character is merely a conformity with
the first principles of natural religion and morality ; to disparage it is to
blaspheme against those eternal and immutable principles. It is not that
Catholics consider this feature essential, because they believe that a strict
judgment is to come ; but, on the contrary, God has revealed a strict
judgment to come, that our frail nature may be supported in its efforts
to attain what conscience proclaims as essential These efforts do not
become a duty, because God has ordered us to fear ; but God. has ordered
us to fear, because these efforts are in themselves a duty." — (p. 218).

APPENDIX G 447

Again, he explains the practical bearing of Eevealed Trath on
the duty of obedience to conscience — first taught by natural
reUgion — as follows : —
" It is an eternal and irreversible truth of natural religion, that beings
whose Avill is not as yet wholly subordinate to the rule of right and the
will of God, have this one paramount duty imposed on them before aU
other duties. Adz., to exercise themselves in obedience to the voice of
conscience, by unceasing efforts to reduce their avOI into a fuller and
more complete subjection. The form which, this eternal truth assumes
under the pure Gospel is very much as foUows. Converts to Christianity,
at their baptism, by faith are justified ; by faith receive pardon for their
past sjns ; by faith are endued Arith a most precious inward gift, and are
brought into new relations, into a new sphere of imseen agencies. Then
begins a new course of solemn trial and conlUct, far more solemn indeed
than any they can have hitherto known ; a trial Avhich so closely con
cerns them, that on their behaviour during its progress depends nothing
less than tiheir everlasting destiny; and that trial is no other than this,
how carefully and watchfully they shall retain that faith which now is
theirs, and to how great an extent, by folloAring zealously their sense
of duty, they shall engraft on it the habit of love. And whereas,
although nothing can be more distinct than the conscience's claim to
obedience, few things are more feeble than its poAver of enforcing it ;
whereas its very voice is instantaneously overwhelmed by the impetuous
irruption of present impulses and inclinations ; and whereas the resistance
of corrupt human nature to that discipline and restraint, which is indis
pensably requisite for the continual improvement required of us, is most
unceasing, energetic, and obdurate ; the Gospel directs its most powerful
motives, coUected as it were from aU quarters, to the strengthening
of this one faculty, which is so pecuUaily in need of strength."
—(pp. 213, 214).
With respect to the taint of Lutheranism to be found in the
Establishment, and the consequent disparagement of the necessity,
under the Gospel dispensation, of painstaking watchfulness, he
writes -.-^
"Now a little consideration AviU show us that the ritally fundamental
truth, which Lutheranism formally denies, is, to say the least, disparaged
and most inadequately apprehended by very many, who cannot with any
justice be ranked in the ' Evangelicd ' party. There are indeed, I fear,
comparatively few among us Avho do not consciously or unconsciously
entertain the idea that habitual and laborious watchfulness ; the painful
effort to change our will and purify our hearts by exercising ourselves
day by day in the events of ordinary life as they occur ; the humbling
ourselves and doing penance in remembrance of our past sins, one by
one ; the labouring constantly to keep before our mind the thought of
Death, Judgment, Heaven, Hell ; that aU this is at least not so impera
tively required under Christianity as under natural reUgion. Whereas
in truth the pecuUarity of Christ's reUgion is not that, in any the smaUest
particular, it dispenses with the obligation to obedience (a righteous God

448 APPENDIX G

cannot dispense with that obligation), but that it gives most wonderful
and unprecedented help towards carrying out obedience; and since 'to
whom much is given, from hiin will much be required,' it follows that
the amount of obedience which God demands at our hands is so mucli
the greater, by how much Christian gifts are more wonderful and
transcendent. This it is, I say, which all the various heretical parties
within our Church in one way or other disparage, and which I heartily
wish that even the more orthodox in general more fully realised. Men
speak as though, in some sense at least and in some degree, the Gospel
were a reversal of the natural law, instead of being solely and exclu
sively its complement. And I would beg of my readers to pay particular
attention to this statement ; because it is the very central point of that
view of our present circumstances, which it is the object of this work to
submit with deep deference to my brethren. And it is because this truth
seems to me so all-important at the present time, and the Lutheran
doctrine of Justification is that particular heresy which plainly and in
terms denies it, that I have felt bound from time to time in the British
Critic to protest so emphatically, and in language of such unbounded and
indignant reprobation, against that doctrine." — (pp. 247, 248).
Of the work of the Church, as in helping men to fulfil the
natural law, so in Aritnessing its practical applications aud reprobat
ing all teaching which is opposed to it, he writes : —
" Ajid as it is with the duties of natural religion, so it is also with the
precepts correlative to those duties. If consistently obedient men be the
fountains from which moral truth flows to the world, and if, without
special grace, consistent obedience be unattainable, we shall be prepared
to expect what in fact we find, how miserably inadequate was that know
ledge and perception of the eternal law of God which was generaUy
diffused before Christian times. It is not till the first promulgation, of
the Gospel that we find among men in general any tolerable appreciation
of the Law; but from that period doAvnwards we flnd that which was
before but hypothesis and capability converted into actual achievements,
into Hving and energising results. For eighteen centuries and upwards
has the Church faithfully witnessed the great truths of morality and'
natural religion in their full circle, whether against Manichaean heretics
in earlier, or Lutheran in later, times. She has drawn out the scientific
statement of God's nature j she has proclaimed and enforced the various
holy tempers required by the natural law, explored the theory of their
mutual relations and dependency, discussed the mode of their application
to the outward state of things at each succeeding period of her progress,
and provided her children \frith invaluable help and support for their
attainment ; all this she has done with a confidence, completeness, depth,
and iUumination of view, so absolutely beyond comparison with any
feeble efforts in that direction which may have existed in heathen times, as
most fuUy to justify Bishop Butler's remark, that it would be difficult for
us adequately to appreciate the blessings we have obtained through the
Gospel, even without reference made to the information and gifts pecuUar
to itself."— (pp. 253, 254).

APPENDIX G 449

Speaking again of the Lutheran spirit of passivity — Arith its con
comitant elements of "cant" and sentimentahty — in its practical
manifestation, he says : —
" As to . . . sins, such as envy, sloth, discontent, passionateness, and
the like, there is every reason to beUeve that an upholder of this principle
AriU often confess to himseff that they have command over his mind in no
ordinary degree ; and that after a lapse of time the same confession wiU
be repeated ; and yet, though he does not even fancy himself to have
made any real or serious attempt in the interval, by God's help, to subdue
them, he wiU experience no deep repentance in that no such attempt has
been made, but rather a certain confident self-complacency, as though
the mere consciousness of their existence, and a sentimental sigh breathed
over their sinfulness, were a full proof of the spiritual mind, and a fuU
assurance of security against future judgment." — (pp. 220, 221).
' Of the narrowness and fanaticism which corae from the neglect
of the one principle of spiritual illumination — laborious obedience
to conscience — he speaks thus : —
" And what is the result of this most monstrous and fanatical notion ?
The cultivation of conscience is indissolubly bound up Avith self-denial, if
it be not even the same thing in another shape ; self-denial is of all
exercises the most repugnant to man's fallen and corrupt nature ;
therefore if this duty be not enforced Arith the most urgent, energetic, and
repeated appeals, it will, by ineritable consequence, either be performed
with utter inadequacy or wholly neglected. The voice of conscience,
then, being thus allowed to remain dormant, is confused, without possi
bility of distinction, with the caprice of imagination, or Arith individual
peculiarities and associations. Hence it foUoAvi?, that those who (like, I
suppose, most 'Evangelicals' and Protestant Dissenters) regard themselves as
visited with some personal dirine iUumination, are led to look upon even
their narrowest prejudices or absurdest imaginations as thc very dictate
of the Holy Ghost ; to look upon themselves and the few whose prejudices
and peculiarities agree with their OAvn, as the fountains of divine truth ;
to shut their eyes to the plainest marks of sanctity in those who abhor
and denounce their ' cant ' phrases ; and to regard Arith a compassion
closely bordering on contempt us ordinary men, who earnestly disclaim
any such personal illumination in ourselves, and refuse to recognise it in
them."— (p. 261).
The next set of extracts have reference to the contrast betAveen
a purely intellectual and external vieAv of CathoUcism — however
candid and fair — on the one hand ; and the view, on the other hand,
of one who approaches the study of reUgion from Avithin : — the
actual points for admiration, the standard by which achievement is
measured, and the perception of its whole ethical side, being enthely
different in the two. In proportion as a student is Arithin any
traly religious system, he is in a position to judge in sorae degree
of Catholicism, as Catholicism embraces what is best in aU systems.
2 G

450 APPENDIX G

But one who is external to all existing systems is necessarily blind to
the criterion of religious truth. " The glory of the king's daughter
is Arithin," and one Avho does not see or understand the inherent
nobility of much that is externally insignificant, however fair and
candid, has not the requisite materials present to his judgment for
understanding the Catholic Church.
Speaking of an inquirer who takes up a purely external position,
he writes : — ¦
" I think, in fact, that a student of able and enlarged mind, and
endued with great intellectual ardour, who should be mad enough and
miserable enough to seek for truth by taking up a position external to aU
existing systems, rather than by humbly and diligently working in that
where God has placed him, tiU his conscience shall tell him to advance
from it, that such an one would see much in Catholicism attractive to
him in the same sense in which worldly systems attract him. ' Evangeli
calism,' or ordinary ' Anglicanism,' he would altogether put aside ; for
he would not understand the moral persuasiveness exhibited by those
respective schemes to persons trained in them, while he would see very
plainly their utter theoretical baselessness and inooherency. But in
CathoUcism he would see a wonderful harmony of parts, depth of view,
and consistency of progress ; he would fairly recognise it as the majestic
and wonderful development of a real idea ; and he would acknowledge in
it a surprising suitableness to human nature under certain aspects ; he
would see, moreover, how plausible an account it gives of a vast number
of external facts, which it is at flrst sight difficult otherwise to under
stand ; and again, in an sesthetioal point of riew, he would do justice to
its great, and perhaps unapproaohed, excellence. Such truths as these,
unbelievers and misbelievers of the present day, unless grossly narrow-
minded and uncandid, fuUy admit. But notwithstanding, he would con
sider himself to see in Catholicism a certain want of enlargement and
comprehensiveness; a certain formalism. Stiffness, and absence of elasticity ;
an incapability of adapting itself to circumstances ; an excessive regard
of detail ; nay, stiU more than this, a something, which would even excite
his contempt, as imbecile, superstitious, and anile."— (pp. 268, 269).
Again, he pursues the contrast between the everyday maxims
and standards of the candid man of the world and the utterly
different ones which form the essence of Christian life and judg
ment : —
" First, the sacred and essential truth is cherished and displayed in
every detail of the Catholic system, of the infinite superiority of moral
over intellectual greatness ; the truth, that one temptation to evil consist
ently overcome, through God's grace, by the humblest Christian, is an
infinitely nobler object of contemplation than the most briUiant theories,
or the most wonderful generaUsations and deductions. Now, a Christian
who, to the most enlarged mind and profoundest wisdom, should super
add the possession, so infinitely more precious, of a tender and watchful
conscience, causes in the mind of a candid observer, who may happen not

APPENDIX G 4SI

to sympathise Arith this latter, a peculiar admixture of surprise and con
tempt with whatever there may be of admiration. Such a Christian
appears, after haring proposed to himseK the most exalted and compre
hensive designs, to be restrained by weak and superstitious scruples
from measures which are necessary to foUow them out Or he Arill
neglect their prosecution at an important moment from the call of duty,
or, as it wiU appear to those not understanding such a call, from the mere
effect of feebleness of mind and reUgious caprice. Or his habitual trust
in the aid of Proridence, and anxious dependence on slight intimations
of God's pleasure, Arill produce an effect which looks like deficiency in
the power of ptirsuing a continued and well-planned course of action. Or
even without reference to its bearing on poUtical exertion, the continual
check on the free course of thought and conversation, caused by habitual
watchfulness against sin, e.g., against anything approaching to slander or
profaneness, appears to ' them that are without ' stiff and pusillanimous.
Again, the love and desire of suffering, to which a very sensitive conscience
infallibly leads — the hair-shirt, or self-inflicted stripes, or long fasts — if
they do not appear most admirable and excellent, appear childish and
superstitious." — ^(pp. 271, etc.)
Again, he insists on the fact that all religious affections being
centred in the Infinite God Incarnate, their manifestations are
exhibitions of the grand principle of Christian action. This gives
significance and value to httle external acts by which they are
fostered or expressed — as the preservation of reUcs, the reverence
for memorial statues. The man of the world, on the other hand,
makes light of affections and dispositions. To him such acts
appear trivial, because he has no vision of the importance and
nobility of the life of the soul Secret rirtues and secret faults are
to him alike unimportant. The gaze of raan is his ultimate appeal,
for he has lost sight of Hira who " seeth in secret " : —
" Now, supposing hypothetically for a moment (what is the very
contrary of the truth) that such peculiarities and tendencies [as cherishing
images or relics] implied any the sUghtest weakness of mind, even then
we knoAv Iioav great a part of the interest of life in worldly men, Avhose
minds and affections are at all eleA-ated above the herd, arises from the
indulgence of such feelings ; nor is it obvious, e.g., Avhy to kiss fondly a
mother's portrait or lock of hair is more manly than to cherish and bear
about a crucifix or a fragment of the true cross. And the contrast
becomes much greater, when we consider the common herd of irreUgious
men ; for surely the taking of pains to secure the comforts of everyday
life, the being soUcitous about the cooking of our dinner, the finding it
difficult to refrain from unwholesome indulgence in the article of food,
the greediness of present praise or posthumous renoAvii, the powerlessness
of commanding our temper in the little minor miseries of life, the difficiUty
of bearing sickness cheerfully, and a thousand sutdlar weaknesses, to
which in vai'ious measures most of us, I suppose, must plead guilty, and
to Avhicli certainly very eminent phUosophers and mathematicians have

452 APPENDIX G

been in subjection, but from which saintly men are eminently emancipated,
aU these are surely, on any possible view of things, incomparably lower
and more contemptible than even what some might caU a superstitious
regard to sacred reUcs or images. But then human philosophy, being, as
I have said, unpractical and imaginative, puts aside from our view this
degrading aspect of human nature ; it represents its heroes as the ideal
personifications of inteUectual power or artistical grace. Here, then, we
see great cause for the ridiculous mistakes continually committed by the
Protestant or man of the world, in judging the great luminaries of the
Church. In their case human affections and emotions, indefinitely purified
and exalted, and flxed on a Heavenly Object, are the very vital principle
of their conduct This it is which gives unity to their life, whether
speculative or active ; the earnest habitual devotion of their whole heart
and soul, not to some abstract principle, but to a Liring Person, and for
His sake to those most dear to Him. Those mental habits, then, and
external practices, to which, in the case of worldly heroes, philosophers
shut their eyes, that they may gaze on what appears to the carnal per
ception more great, splendid, and glorious, these cannot be removed from
pubUc sight in the Church of Christ, 'but are then most prominently
displayed and most zealously defended, when the most arduous conflicts
are to be waged, or the most noble deeds to be done. To be ashamed of
devotion to the Blessed Saints, or to the relics of their earthly tabernacles,
or to holy images, is to be ashamed of the Cross of Christ, and to lower
the standard of high and heavenly philosophy before the supercilious,
specious, empty phUosophy of the world. For by so doing, we shrink
from publicly professing the great Christian truth, that ardent personal
love for Christ, whose friends those saints are, who has dwelt by the
agency of the Holy Ghost Arithin those earthly tabernacles, and who is
Himself represented in those images, that this ardent personal love for
Him is the very centre of all true philosophy, and, as from an eminence,
commands aU the powers of our intellect and imagination submissively to
bend before it and do its bidding. These are, I think, the principal
reasons of the certain fact that ' Christ crucifled,' as preached by the
Church, is in great measure ' foolishness ' to the philosophical world now,
as it was in the first ages of the Gospel ; and that men of high aspirations
and capabilities, if undisciplined and unchastened, will be far more readily
attracted by the dazzling brilliancy of human philosophies than by the
severe and unearthly grace of the Bride of the Lamb. I have said, as in
the first ages, but I should rather say incomparably more than in the first
ages ; for, in this as in very many other particulars, there is even a
marked contrast between this and the primitive period on the very
matter in hand, on the respective position of the Church and those that
are without ; a contrast which gives much greater force to the argument.
Then human philosophies were effete, unattractive, ' waxen old,' while the
Church came forth, as it were, unto an unoccupied arena, promising to
' declare Him whom they ignorantly worshipped ; ' but now, whUe the
Church has to bear the responsibUity of all the assailable points in her
past history, which must of necessity have arisen from her long and close
proximity to the world, human systems have come out new and gUttering,
and as it were with the gloss on them ; which, as being the products of

APPENDIX G 453

the age, have a natural suitableness and promise of satisfaction at leeist to
the more obrious and superficial requirements of the age." — (pp. 273-275).
The belief — ever preached and never in practice realised — that
the souls of the poor may have aU the spiritual refinement, delicacy
of religious experience, depth of religious feeUng, perfection of
Christian advancement, of which the educated are capable, is
insisted on with sorae of its easily forgotten consequences aud
corollaries : —
" Now let us fairly ask ourselves the question. Have we ever reaUsed
the fact, or when we look at the poor as we find them around us can we
by ever so great an effort bring ourselves to realise the fact, that the
Mother of God, the holy Apostles, the great body of early Christians,
belonged to the same class Arith our agricultural and manufacturing poor ?
Would it not involve a revolution in aU our habits of thought, fuUy to
believe that those devoted to lifelong manual labour may contemplate
heavenly things as habitually, desire spiritual blessings as earnestly, and
despise earthly joys or sorrows as triumphantly, as the most educated of
us all ? Would it not be our immediate tendency to ridicule the idea of
a man With rough hands, soiled dress, and homely speech, oppressed Avith
bitter sorrow for some deficiency in the hearty performance of the labour
covenanted with his employer, or for some one discontented or angry
thought, or seriously complaining of the aridity which he from time to
time experiences in prayer and meditation ? Yet such is the account we
over and over again read of saints or saintly men in the CathoUc Church.
How deeply and fundamentally opposed, then, are our habits and tendencies
to that Scriptural standard, which Protestants profess to follow, but to
which the Church Catholic alone has faithfully witnessed." — (pp. 333-334).
I next quote a few frora among the many indications that Mr.
Ward foresaw the sceptical effects on English thought of the intel
lectual activity of which the Oxford Moveraent was one mani
festation, and maintained — Avhat has since become so generally
a,cknowledged — that the nature of the human conscience Avas the
cracial question in the coming controversy. If conscience is not in
sorae sense a voice from above, natural theology is unsatisfying,
and cannot withstand the assaults of its critics : —
" And let it not be supposed that this leaven [of scepticism] is not very
Aridely working, and very rapidly spreading, because it has not yet appeared
much on the surface ; the present state of the EngUsh mind, so unfavour
able to all free and consecutive speculation, good or bad, accounts suffi
ciently for that ; and I cannot but fear that a wide experience AriU on the
whole bear out the truth of what I am now saying. I believe that
the unspeculative, common-sense, Procrustean spirit, Avhich has hitherto
governed English thought, is most certainly destined to faU, and is even
now fast falling ; it may be succeeded by something far better, or by
something far AVorse ; but it AriU certainly be succeeded by something
very different from itself." — (p. 267).

454 APPENDIX G

Of the function of conscience as having alone among man's
faculties immediate cognisance of supernatural truth, he writes : —
" Now I wish to put forAvard plainly and in the face of day this truth,
which, if conscience does not speak, we can neither apprehend the idea, nor
have any ground for believing the existence of God Himself. A very few
words Avill suffice to show this. The idea of God has no archetype,
either in the risible course of things whereof our senses give us ex
perience, nor yet in the a priori field of space and time whereof alone the
inteUect is exclusively cognisant : we can neither derive the idea, then,
from our intellect, nor from our senses, nor from any faculty which does
not possess the power of putting us into communication with realities and
essences : in other words, only from our consciences, for no other faculty
even professes this power. It is accordingly acknowledged, I believe, by
aU phUosophers at the present day with one voice, that the consideration
of final causes is most edifying indeed to the religious believer, and most
useful as a support to languishing faith, by exhibiting as it were a risible
pledge of God's power and attributes ; but that as a sufficient basis for
Theism it is absolutely and completely worthless. This is very important ;
for vast multitudes are fruitlessly endeavouring to occupy some middle
position, between granting aU to conscience and denying all : yet is it so
very plain, that, notwithstanding its great importance, I can find no words
to make it plainer. Let me then repeat what I have said. If conscience
be not on aU moral and religious subjects paramount, then it does not
really exist ; if it do not exist, we have no reason whatever, nay, no
power whatever, to beUeve in God.
' " This, I have already said, is no mere theory. I was obliged, in
writing an article on Mr. MiU's logic, to express a most serious doubt
whether he could fairly be considered, from his system, to possess
reUgious belief of any kind ; and I certainly am not aware of any Uving
EngUsh inteUectual speculator, in a non-theological Une, who appears to
me at aU Mr. MiU's equal in power and acquirements. Since I Avrote
that reriew I have read great part of a work which Mr. Mill cites' with
the warmest approbation, and Arithout one word of qualification as to its
religious tenets. I allude to M. Comte's Cours de PhUosophie Positive.
Here is to be found a series of plain, direct, and even earnest disavowals
of Theism in all possible shapes, and the expression of a confident ex
pectation that in a few centuries hence the very existence of any
reUgious belief wiU only be knoAvn as a matter of history. Moreover,
the very argument on which M. Comte grounds his Atheism is the one
of which I have been speaking — the circumstance that (as he considers)
we have no such faculty as a conscience. I hardly think that, under
any circumstances, such views as these can ever obtain extensive recep
tion, naturam expellas, etc.; land even M. Comte, very much more Mr.
MiU, show plain marks that at last conscience is more than a match for
them. But though firm and undoubting disbelief in the power of know
ing God's existence may be always rare, I fear that a very extensive sub
version of firm and undoubting belief in Him, that belief which alone can
enable man for a continuance to resist the evil tendencies and temptations
which assaU him,— this, I fear, is very far from improbable ; indeed it

APPENDIX G 455

seems to me the precise issue and consummation to which the course of
speculation (judging from what one hears of it) in the European world is
fast tending." — (pp. 276-278).
Again he says : —
"Seeing then that even in the most unsuspected quarters this
atheistical leaven has made (of course wholly unknoAvn to themselves)
such alarming encroachments, what have we not to fear from the con
tinued progress of human thought if we do not obtain grace from God to
abandon our proud rationaUsm, and restore His voice Arithin us to that
place of honour and supremacy from which almost aU parties just now
seem madly conspiring stUl further to dethrone it." — (p. 279).
The remaining extracts — vrith reference to sanctity as the one
great weapon of the Church, to the connection of sanctity with
what may be called the art of Asceticism based on the corresponding
science, to Monasticism as the embodiment of the science of
Asceticism, to the preservation of this science and art in the
Eoman Church, and their absence in the English since the Eefor
mation — tell their own story. The last of all touches on a riew
of which several applications have already been given — of the
distinction in many cases between a believer's analysis of his
belief on the one hand, and what his nature really adheres to on
the other. A raan raay concentrate his attention on what he
affirras or on what he denies. A Theist aflSrras that a personal God
exists; a Deist denies a revelation. One Protestant denies and
emancipates hiraself from Church authority ; another erabraces the
Bible as God's word. On this principle two believers, holding in
words the same doctrine, may be in reality one on the road to
fuller truth, another on the road to further denial of truth ; one to
Catholicism, the other to infidelity.
Speaking of the Church's manifold duties in lifting up her voice
and protesting against crime, he asks, hoAV can she in her weakness
arrest and secure attention ? She can do so, he repUes, by one
weapon only — that of visible and undeniable sanctity in her
members, which wUl command the respect of the world in spite of
itself. " How can she hope to obtain so much as a hearing from a
luxurious nobility, or from a legislature almost compeUed to be the slave
of momentary shifts and time-serAdng expedients, or from a middle class
whoUy absorbed in the ceaseless press of secular business and the
feverish thirst of worldly gain — hoAV can she, I say, hope to obtain so
much as a hearing, not from this or that indiridual, but from these
classes of men, when she endeavours, as God's Vicegerent on earth, to
impress on their consciences the duties of their several stations, aud
eagerly and clamorously warns them against their besetting sins ! How
can she hope to "cry aloud and spare not" and meet Arith aught in
return save Insolent contempt or forcible suppression of her voice ?

456 APPENDIX G

There is only one fashion of instruments which wiU avail her ; of one
and only one kind are the weapons which she can oppose to worldly
haughtiness and cruelty : these instruments, these weapons, are saints and
saintly men. The very presence of a class of Christians who show in
their whole lives and demeanour that they are dead to secular cares and
pleasures, and that their hearts and affections are absorbed in heavenly
realities ; men who live a mortified life, a life above the world ; who
choose poverty, and vow celibacy, and refuse wealth and distinction even
when offered ; this it is which is an evidence of the unseen world that
none can gainsay or resist, and Avhich exercises an influence over the
most careless or the most obdurate, against their will, almost without
their knowledge. Contempt here is impossible ; respect and admiration
are extorted from the mass of men in spite of themselves." — (p. 413).
" Still more obvious is the truth here maintained in regard to by far
the most important part of all a Church's political duties — the protection
and consolation of the poor. On this subject human science is even at
the present moment brought to a stand, like some powerful steam-engine
without hands to work it, for want of a mass of data which, Arith our
present machinery, cannot by possibility be supplied. Let us see a
band of enthusiastic men, self- devoted to the cause, many of them
following at an infinite distance the steps of Him " who, though He were
rich, yet for our sakes became poor," all of them like to the poor in their
manner of life, and like to the rich in their knowledge and education,
except that the latter is deeply impregnated in every particular with
the Catholic doctrine and spirit ; let us see such men as these
dispersed, as one may say, in swarms among our croAvded manufacturing
towns, bringing by their very presence both encouragement and edifica
tion, full of that tender lovingkindness which Catholic discipline alone
implants, and looking on the poor, in the Ught which Catholics do look
on them, aa sacramental tokens of the Lord's nearer presence, what would
not be the result ? Soon would that suspicion dissolve which is perhaps
even the most fearful sign of the times, that deep and rankling suspicion
entertained by the poor that those above them are not really interested
in their happiness and well-being ; soon would they open all their griefs
to these loving and intelligent sympathisers ; what distresses, bodily or
mental, most severely press upon them ; what are their chief spiritual or
temporal enemies; what the causes of their most corroding anxiety or
their most desponding apathy ; these and a thousand other particulars,
now so hopelessly concealed from those who might devise a remedy,
would come forth to light, and human science, powerless whUe confined
to definitions and abstractions, might now at length exert its mighty aid
in devising means of solace and relief." — (pp. 414-415).
Again, in fostering and developing sanctity in the Church, saints
must be the teachers. They are the experts. They condemn
Lutheran passivity, and so it must be got rid of h sanctity is to
flourish. If the mob with mo religious experience or acquirement
are to refuse to obey, religious progress becomes impossible.
" It is impossible for Christians to ripen into saints, if ordinary men

APPENDIX G 457

are aUowed to sit in judgment on their conduct and expressions, any more
than in practical life a man could learn a difficult art, if he were required
to adjust his course of study to the Arishes of the uninstructed multitude.
There must be the fuUest and liveliest acknowledgment that self-discipline
and holy obedience are the only keys which wiU unlock the treasure of
religious truth ; and that the multitude have to learn from them, not they
from the multitude. We cannot unite contradictories ; we cannot have
Lutheran doctrine and saintly practice ; we cannot have Christ and Anti
christ ; we must make our choice between them." — (p. 418).
One of the lessons, however, which the " science " of the saints
teaches us is the necessity of gradual and long preparation of wUl
and heart for the higher walks of sanctity. The dilettante brand new
monasteries, which some ardent enthusiasts Arished to induct into the
Anglican Church, must fail grotesquely. Anglicanism had not yet
afforded the training which is the necessary preliminary to success
in such attempts. Such raushroora institutions would have only the
external forms of conventual rule, without that inward life and spirit
by which alone they could perraanently fiourish.
"Avery general sense has been quite of late mysteriously groAving up,
of the incalculable benefits that might be derived under our present cir
cumstances from the revival of monastic bodies ; a most cheering circum
stance indeed as a sign of the times, and a most honourable opiuion to
those who entertain it Noav, considering that our Reformed Church had
its beginning in the overthrow of these institutions, and has had its con
tinuance in the contempt and slander of them, it might have been con
fidently anticipated that this opinion at all events inipUed some adequate
consciousness of our deplorable defects and corruptions. But no. The
blind idolatry of our present system, so carefully instiUcd from his earliest
years into the mind of the English Cliurchman, has shoAvn itself in
dreaming that we are already prepared for such institutions on a large
scale. The same arrogance and self-complacency, Avhich tiU lately im
pelled our Church to dmounce the word Catholic, is now in many places
only at work under another shape in urging her to claim it ExceUent
men have omitted to consider the profound sagacity and experience re
quired for the ordering and governance of such institutions as those which
I have mentioned, and the unbounded huraUity and self-sacrifice indispens
able in their inmates : or if they have not omitted to consider it, they
fancy that such qualities are readily and widely attainable among our
selves at a moment's notice, or at least without any long course of previous
preparation, Avhich might be founded on a new and wisely-derised system
of education and moral culture. Nay, as if it were their Arish to bring
our Church into contempt, they have talked of appointing our present
bishops visitors of such bodies ; prelates, of whom surely it is no dis
respect to say, that they have not, as a body, displayed in their pubUc
lanfua^e any deep and unquestioning reverence for the doctrines of
asceticism and mortification, nor professed any profound and systematic
acquaintance with the science of saints. Surely the very dUemma
involved, either in proposing such an arrangement or in projecting an

458 APPENDIX G

extensive monastic scheme without it, should show how Uttle prepared our
Church is at present for such a sudden development I am not of course
denying that individual Christians, who share in the CathoUc feeUng
which now springs up on aU sides of us, wiU derive great benefit, and
edification, and happiness, from uniting themselves voluntarUy into small
societies bound together by definite rules and frequent offices of devotion ;
but arrangements of this kind may be quite safely, and wUl be far more
profitably left to adjust themselves : while any expectation of estabUshing
such a system on a fixed and recognised basis within our Church is alto
gether visionary, untU many well and Arisely-employed years shaU have
elapsed. No ! we must direct aU our energy to devise some really
powerful and avaUable machinery for the moral education of the many,
if we desire to reap any sufficient harvest of the mortified and contem
plative few." — (pp. 434-436).
Of his favourite theme, the connection between the highest
sanctity and assured orthodoxy, he thus speaks in this connection —
" No wonder that the monastic bodies have in every age been the great
champions of orthodoxy, for they have been also the great witnesses and
exemplars of an austere and supernatural Ufe." — (p. 390).
He thus explains the principle to which I have already referred,
that doctrines may be held as affirmations in tiieir measure, or as
negations of Catholic teaching ; affirmations leading to fuller truth,
negations to further error : —
" It is plain, that in proportion as we give ourselves up to an un
interrupted course of reUgious action, we reaUse and dwell upon our
positive doctrines, and forget what may be called our negative opinions.
To hold negative opinions indeed, except on authority, is unphilosophical
and unreasonable ; because we caimot form even a guess on the value of
a doctrine untU we have morally apprehended either that doctrine or its
contradictory. But over and above this, it appears also that to lay any
stress on them (even though we do hold them on authority) is a sure
mark of carnal-mindedness and sluggishness in the spiritual Ufe. There
would be apparent exceptions to this statement, in the case of some most
admirable men, who may have been taught to lay stress on these negations,
and who fancy that they do so ; but these are not real exceptions, for it
will be found that in proportion as they talk naturaUy rather than on a
theory, they sufficiently show how little real connection there is between
the language they have learnt and their spiritual nature.
" And the converse is equally true : he who resolutely puts from his
mind the mere negations of his hereditary creed, and girds himseff to the
task of carrying forward boldly and unsuspiciously the positive tenets
which it contains, is, as one may say, already a CathoUc potentially.
Thus the very same outward expressions of doctrine may be held by
different persons, CatholicaUy or heretically, Christianly or imchristianly,
according as they fix their mind on what is affirmed or on what is
denied." — (p. 526).

APPENDIX H
The foUowing were the terms of the proposed "Test" referred to in Chapter
XII, and afterwards abandoned : —
In the same Convocation the foUoAving altered form of Statute,
which wUl be promulgated on Monday the 10th day of February
next, at ten o'clock, wiU be submitted to the House : —
TiTULUS XVII— Sect. III.
§ 2. De Auctoritate et Officio Vice-Cancellarii
1. After the words,
" Et ut Hsereticos, Schismaticos, et quoscunque alios minus
recte de fide Catholica, et Doctrina vel Disciplina Ecclesiae Angli-
canse, sentientes, procul a finibus Universitatis amandandos curet
" Quem in finem, quo qmsque modo erga Doctrinam vel Dis-
ciplinam Ecclesiae AngUcanee affectus sit, Subscriptionis criterio
explorandi ipsi jus ao potestas esto,"
it wUl be proposed to insert the folloAving :
Quoniam vero Articulos illos Fidei et Eeligionis, in quibus male-
sanse opiniones, et prsesertim Eomanensium errores, reprehenduntur,
ita nonnulli perperam interpretati sunt, ut erroribus istis vix aut ne
vix quidem adversari rideantur, nemini posthac, qui coram Vice-
Cancellario, utpote minus recte de Doctrina vel Disciplina Ecclesiae
AnglicanaB sentiens, conveniatur, Articuhs subscribere fas sit, nisi
prius Declarationi subscripserit sub hac forma :
Ego A. B. Articuhs Fidei et Eeligionis, necnon tribus Articulis
in Canone XXXVI" comprehensis subscripturus, profiteer, fide mea
data huic Universitati, me Articulis istis omnibus et singulis eo
sensu subscripturum, in quo eos ex animo credo et primitus editos
esse, et nunc mihi ab Universitate propositos tanquam opinionum
mearum certum ac indubitatum signura.
Also in the next sentence of the existing Statute, beginning,
"Quod si quis S. Ordinibus initiatus," before the words "subscri
bere a Vice-Cancellario requisitus," to insert the foUovring words :
" Una cum Declaratione supra-recitata."

46o APPENDIX H

2. It will also be proposed in the said sentence to omit the
words " S. Ordinibus initiatus."
Should these alterations be approved, that part of the Statute,
Tit. XVII. sect. in. § 2, De Auctoritate et Officio Vice-Cancellarii,
which wUl be affected by them, will stand as follows : —
. . . Et ut Hsereticos, Schismaticos, et quoscunque alios minus
recte de fide Catholica et Doctrina vel Disciphna Ecclesise Angli-
canse, sentientes, procul a finibus Universitatis amandandos curet.
Quem in finem, quo quisque modo erga Doctrinam vel Dis-
ciplinam Ecclesiae Anglicanae affectus sit, Subscriptionis criterio
explorandi, ipsi jus ac potestas esto. Quoniam vero Articulos illos
Fidei et Eeligionis, in quibus male-sanse opiniones, et prsesertim
Eomanensium errores, reprehenduntur, ita nonnulli perperam inter
pretati sunt, ut erroribus istis vix aut ne vix quidem adversari
videantur, nemini posthac, qui coram Vice-Cancellario, utpote minus
recte de Doctrina vel Disciplina Ecclesise Anglicanse sentiens, con
veniatur, Articulis subscribere fas sit nisi prius Declarationi sub
scripserit sub hac forma :
Ego A. B. Articulis Fidei et Eeligionis necnon tribus Articulis
in Canone XXX'VL" comprehensis subscripturus, profiteer, fide mea
data huic Universitati, me Articulis istis omnibus et singulis eo
sensu subscripturum, in quo eos ex animo credo et primitus editos
esse, et nunc mihi ab Universitate propositos, tamquam opinionum
mearum certum ac indubitatum signura.
Quoad si quis (sive Prasfectus Domus cujusvis, sive alius quis)
Articulis Fidei et EeUgionis, a Synodo Londini A.D. 1562 editis et
confirmatis ; necnon tribus Articulis comprehensis Canone XXXVI °
Libri Constitutionum ac Canonura Ecclesiasticorum, editi in Synodo
Londini caepta a.d. 1603, una cum Declaratione supra-recitata, sub
scribere a Vice-Cancellario requisitus ter abnuerit sou recusaverit,
ipso facto ab Universitate exterminetur et banniatur.
B. P. Symons, Fice-Chancellor.
Delegates' Room, Dec. 13, 1844.

APPENDIX I
Since the body of this work was in type, further material has been
placed at my disposal by the kindness of the Dean of Westminster,
and of Sir George Grove and Dean Vaughan, the Master of the
Temple, for illustrating the relations between Ward and Stanley,
referred to in Chapter VI. Ward was still an undergraduate when
they first met Stanley, after first hearing of Ward from Cardwell as
" almost the cleverest man in Oxford," met him for the first time in
Faber's rooms in 1834. His description of the meeting has been
already given in Chapter VI. Their relations to each other are
described in a letter of Stanley's to the present Master of the
Temple, which shall be cited shortly. One interesting fact comes
to light in Stanley's letters in reference to Ward's presenting him
self for orders in 1837. Ward denied the doctrines of Apostolical
Succession and the priesthood, and consequently Oakeley had a
scruple as to signing his testimonials. Oakeley wrote for advice to
two bishops of the Establishment and to Keble — without, however,
mentioning names. He asked if the doctrine of Apostohcal Succession
was essential to the English Church. The bishops did not reply,
and Keble's reply was dubious. Oakeley then Avent to Newman,
who arranged to see Ward and talk the matter over vrith him, and
endeavour to persuade him to put off his ordination. " Newman
had a long interview Avith Ward," Avrites Stanley, " listening to all
that Ward said most candidly, and ended by bursting into tears,
saying that he had never been so much interested in his life, and
was too much overcome to continue the dialogue."
The following letter to Dean Vaughan bears the date of July
1836, and gives Stanley's impressions of Ward in the early years
of their friendship : —
" Ward I see more than any one else, and I like him exceedingly. I
hardly know how you would like him. I am afraid that at first you
would not. He is very uncouth in appearance as you know, and also
uncouth in his tastes, at least he has no taste for beauty of scenery and not
very much for beauty in poetry, though on the other hand he is
passionately fond of music, and I should think his taste in that Une was

462 APPENDIX I

very good. On these points therefore, — he not sympathising Arith me in
one, and I not with him in another, — ^we have not much in common.
But what I do like very much in him is his great honesty and fearless
and entire love of truth, and deep interest about all that concerns the
happiness of the human race. These I never saw so strongly developed
in anybody. We flrst became acquainted by his expressing in my
presence great admiration of Arnold, mostly from a knowledge of his
Avritings, and this not haring been diminished by ourfurther intercourse,
has of course proved a great point of union. He is the best arguer and
the most clear-headed man that I ever saw, I think— though in one way
his logical faculty is one of his defects, for it has attained such gigantic
height as rather to overshadow some of the other parts of his mind. He
is also enthusiastically fond of mathematics — and, I beUeve, a very good
mathematician. He is very fond of me, and added to these points, he is
a very good man indeed, very humble, very devout, very affectionate, and
has done a great deal to improve himself since I knew him. ... I
have said so much about him, because I am afraid that from what you
have seen of him, or from what you have heard of him, you might very
naturaUy but very seriously underrate him."

THE END

Printed hy R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh

MESSRS. MACMILLAN AND CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

Life of Frederick Denison Maurice. Chiefly told iu his oAvn
Letters. Edited by his Son, Fkbderick Maueioe. With two Portraits.
Third Edition. 2 vols. Demy 8vo. 36s. Popular Edition (Fourth
Thousand). Two vols. Crown 8vo. I63.

By mark pattison, late Rector of Lmcohi CoUege, Oxford.
Memoirs. CroAvn 8vo. 8s. 6d.
Sermons. Crown 8vo. 6s.
Milton. Crown 8 vo. Cloth, Is. 6d. [English Men of Letters Series.

James Fraser, Second Bishop of Manchester. A Memoir
(1818-1885). By T. Hughes, (^.C. With Portrait Popular Edition.
Crown 8vo. 68.
Sermons. By the Right Rev. James Fraser, D.D., Second Bishop of
Manchester. In two volumes. Vol. I. — University and other Sermons.
Vol. II. — Parochial and other Sermons. Edited by Rev. John W. Dioole.
Crown 8vo. 6s. each.
Catharine and Oraufurd Tait, Wife and Son of Archibald
Campbell, Archbishop of Canterbury : A Memoir. Edited, at the
ronuest of the Archbishop, by the Rev. W. Benham, B.D., one of the Six
Preachers of Cantarbury Cathedral, etc. AA'ith Two Portraits engraved by
Jebns. Now and Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. I'opular Edition,
abridged. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
Life and Letters of John Ooleridgre Patteson, D.D., Missionary
Bishop. By Ciiaulottb M. Yonge, Author of "The Heir of Redclyffe."
With Portraits engraved by Jeens, after Richmond, and from a Photograph.
Maps and Illustrations. Eighth Edition. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 12s.
The Story of a Fellow Soldier. By Frances Awdry. (A Life of
Bishop Patteson for the Young. ) AVith a Preface by Charlotte M. Yon'oe.
Globe 8vo. 2s. 6d.
The "Works of Arthur Hugh Caough, sometime FeUow of Oriel
College, Oxford. In 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. each. A'ol. I. — Poems.
New and Revised Edition. Vol. II. — Prose Remains. With a Selection
from his Letters, and a Jlomoir. Edited by his Wife.
Poems. By John Moultrie. Complete Edition. 2 vols. Crown 8vo.
7s. each. Vol. I.— My Brother's Grave, Dream of Life, and other Poems.
AVith Memoir by the Rev. Prebendary Coleridge. A'ol. II.— L.iy9 of the
English Cliurch, and other Poems. AVith Notices of the Rectors of Rugby,
by M. A. H. Bloxam.
Letters of General O. Or. Gordon to his Sister, M. A. Gordon.
Fourth and Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.

MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.

MESSRS. MACMILLAN AND CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

By MATTHEAV ARNOLD.
Essays in Criticism. First Series, 9s. Second Series. With an
Introductory Note by Lord Colbridbe. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.

The Journal Intrme of Henri-Frederio AmieL Translated, vidth
an Introduction and Notes, by Mrs. Humphry A^Vard. New Edition.
Crown 8vo. {Just Ready.
A NEW SELECTION OF THOMAS CARLYLE'S LETTERS.
Letters of Thomas Carlyle, 1826-1836. Edited by Charles
Eliot Norton. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 18s.
UNIFORM WITH THE ABOVE.
Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle. Edited by Charles Eliot
Norton. 2 vols. Vol. I.— 1814-1821. Vol. II. —1821-1826. With Tavo
Portraits. Crown 8vo. 18s.
Goethe and Carlyle, Correspondence between. Edited by
Charles Eliot Norton. Crown 8vo. 9s.
Reminiscences. Edited by Charles Eliot Norton. 2 vols. CroAvn
8vo. 12s.
By R. H. hutton, M.A.
Essays on some of the Modern Guides of English Thought
in Matters of Faith. Globe 8vo. 6s.
Essays. 2 vols. Globe 8vo. 6s. each. Vol. I. — Literary Essays.
Vol. II. — Theological Essays.

By AUBREY DE VERB.
Essays, chiefly on Poetry. 2 vols. Globe 8vo. 12s. Vol. I. 
Criticisms on certain Poets. Vol. II. — Essays, Literary and Ethical.
Literature in its Social Aspects: and other Essays. Crown
8^°-  [In the press.
Thomas Poole and his Friends. By Mrs. Sandfoed. With
Portrait. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 15s.
The Life of "WiUiam Barnes, Poet and Philologist. By his
Daughter, Ltjcy Baxter ("Leader Scott"), Hon. Member of the Academy
of Fine Arts, Florence; Author of "A Nook in the Apennines," "The
Renaissance in Italy," etc. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.
Elizabeth Gilbert ; and her "Work for the BUnd. By Frances
Martin, Author of "Angelique Arnauld." With Portrait. Crown Svo.
6s.
Biographical Sketches, 1852-1875. By Harriet Martineau.
With Four Additional Sketches, and Autobiographical Sketch. Sixth
Edition. Crown Svo. 6s.
Memoir of Daniel Macmillan. By Thomas Hughes, Q.C, Author
of "Tom Brown's Schooldays," etc. With Portrait engraved on Steel by
C. H. Jebns, from a painting by Lowes Dickinson. Crown Svo 4s 6d
Popular Edition. Paper Covers. Crown Svo. Is.

MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.

MESSRS. MACMILLAN AND CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

Works bt LORD TENNYSON, Poet Laureate.
Collected "Works. — Library Edition. In 8 vols. Globe Svo.
58. each. Each volume may be had separately. Vols. I. and
IL— Poems. Vol III.— IdyUs of the King. Vol. IV.— The Prin
cess : and Maud. Vol. V. — Enoch Arden : and In Memoriam.
Vol. VI. — Ballads : and other Poems. Vol. VII. — Queen Mary :
and Harold. VoL VIII. — Beoket ; and other Plays.
Complete Works. New and Enlarged Edition. With Portrait.
Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.

COPYRIGHT EDITION.
The Complete Poetical Works of WiUiani Wordsworth.
Copyright Edition. With an introduction by John Morley, and
Portrait. Crown Svo. 7s. 6d.

Dean Church's Miscellaneous Writings. Collected Edition.
In 5 vols. Globe Svo. 5s. each. Vol. I. — Miscellaneous Essays.
Vol. II. — St. Anselm. Vol. III. — Dante ; and other Essays. Vol.
IV. — Spenser. Vol. V. — Bacon.

Charles Lamb. — Collected Works. Edited, with Introduction
and Notes, by the late Rev. Alfred Ainger, M.A., LL.D., Canon of
Bristol, etc. Globe Svo. 5s. each volume. Vol. I. — Essays of Elia.
Vol. II. — Plays, Poems, and Miscellaneous Essays. Vol. III. —
Mrs. Leicester's School ; The Adventures of Ulyssea ; and other
Essays. Vol. IV. — Tales from Shakespeare. Vols. V. and VI. —
Letters. Newly arranged, with additions.
The Life of Charles Lamb. By Rev. Alfred Aingkk. Globe
Svo. 5s.

The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Uniform
with the Eversley Edition of Charles Kingsley's Novels. Globe Svo.
5s. each. Vol. I. — Miscellanies, with an Introductory Essay hy
John Morley. Vol. II. — Essays. Vol. III. — Poems. Vol. IV. —
English Traits ; and Representative Men. Vol. V. — Conduct of
Life ; and Society and Solitude. Vol. VI. — Letters ; and Social
Aims, etc.
A History of the University of Oxford, from the EarUest
Times to the Year 15.30. By H. C. Maxwell Ltte, M.A, Deputy-
Keeper of the Public Records ; Author of " History of Eton College,
1440-1875." Svo. 16s.
Eoolesiastioal History of Ireland, from the Earliest Date to the
Present Time. By W. D. Killen, D.D., President of Assembly's
College, Belfast, and Professor of Ecclesiastical History. 2 vols.
Svo. 25s. 
MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.

MESSRS. MACMILLAN AND CO.'S PUBLICATIONS,

Francis Bacon: an Account of his Life and "Works. By
Edwin A. Abbott, D.D., formerly Eellow of St. John's College, Cambridge.
Demy Svo. 14s.
History of Napoleon I. By P. Langfrbt. A Translation made
with the sanction of the Author. In 4 vols. Crown Svo. 30s.
Autobiography of Hector Berlioz. Comprising his Travels in
Italy, Germany, Russia, and England. Translated entire from the second
Paris Edition by Rachel (Scott Russell) Holmes and Eleanor Holmes.
2 vols. Crown Svo. 21s.
G-oethe's Life. By Professor Heinrich Duntzer. Translated hy
T. W. Ltstek, Assistant Librarian at the National Library of Ireland.
With Authentic Illustrations aud Facsimiles. 2 vols. Crown Svo. 21s.
Schiller's Life. By Professor Heinrich Duntzer. Translated hy
Peeoy E. Pinkekton. With authentic Illustrations and Facsimiles.
Crown Svo. 10s. 6d.
Life of George Frederick HandeL By W. S. Rockstro. "With
an Introductory Notice .by Sir Geoege GkoVe, D.C.L. With Portrait.
Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d.
English Poets. Selections, with Critical Introductions by various
Writers, and a General Introduction by Matthew Ahnold. Edited by T.
H. Ward, M.A. 4 vols. Crown Svo. 7s. 6d. each. Vol. I. — Chaucer to
Donne. "V'ol. II. — Ben Jonson to Dryden. "V^ol. III. — Addison to Blake.
Vol. IV. — Wordsworth to Rossetti.
A Dictionary of Music and Musicians (a.d. 1450-1889). By
Eminent Writers, English and Foreign. With Illustrations and Woodcuts.
Edited by Sir Geoeob Grove, D.C.L., Director of the Royal College of
Music. Svo. Parts I to XIV, XIX to XXII, 3s. 6d. each. Parts XV,
XVI, 7s. Parts XVII, XVIII, 7s.
Vols. I, II, III. Svo. 21s. each.
Vol. I; — A to Impromptu. Vol. II. — Improperia to Plain Song. Vfal.
III. — Planche to Sumer is loumen In. Cloth cases for binding Vols.
I, II, and III, Is. each.
*»* Part XXII completes the Dictionary of Music as originally con
templated. But an Appendix is just ready (May 1889), and a fall
general Index is in preparation.
The Choice of Books ; and other Literary Pieces. By Frederic
Harrison. Globe Svo. 6s.
_ *?* Large Paper Edition. Choicely printed on hand-made paper and bound
in buckram. Svo. los.
The Pleasures of Life. By Sir John Lubbock, Bart., M.P., F.R.S.,
D.C.L., LL.D. In Two Parts. Globe Svo. Part I.— Popular Edition.
Sewed, Is. Cloth, Is. 6d. Part II.— 3s. 6d.

MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.

MESSRS. MACMILLAN AND CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

By E. a. FREEMAN, D.C.L., LL.D.,
Regius Professor of Modem History in the University of Oxford, Fellow of Oriel
College, and Hon. Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford.
Historical Essays. Eirst Series. Eoirrth Edition. Svo. 10s. 6d.
Contents : — The Mythical and Romantic Elements in Early English
History — The Continuity of English History — The Relations between the
Crown of England and Scotland — St. Thomas of Canterbury and his Bio
graphers, etc.
Historical Essays. Second Series. Third Edition, with additional
Essays. 10s. 6d.
Contents : — Ancient Greece and Medieval Italy — Mr. Gladstone's Homer
and the Homeric Ages — The Historians of Athens — The Athenian Democracy
— Alexander the Great — Greece during the Macedonian Period —Mommsen's
History of Rome — Lucius Cornelius Sulla— The Flavian Csesars, etc. etc.
Historical Essays. Third Series. Svo. 12s.
Contents : — First Impressions of Rome — The lUyrian Emperors and
their Land — Augusta Treverorum — The Goths at Ravenna — Race and
Language — The Byzantine Empire — First Impressions of Athens — Mediffival
and Modem Greece — The Southern Slaves — SicUian Cycles— The Normans
at Palermo.
The Gro-wth of the English Constitution from the Earliest
Times. Fifth Edition. Crown Svo. 5s.
Comparative Politics. Lectures at the Royal Institution. To which
is added " The Unity of History." Svo. 14s.
Historical and Architectural Sketches ; chiefly Italian. Illus
trated by the Author. Crown Svo. 10s. 6d.
Subject and Neighbour Lands of "Venice. Being a Companion
Volume to "Historical and Architectural Sketches." With Illustrations.
Crown Svo. 10s. 6d.
English Towns and Districts. A Series of Addresses and Essays.
With Illustrations and a Map. Svo. 14a.
Greater Greece and Greater Britain : George "Washington the
Expander of England. With an Appendi.x on Imi'Ekial Federation.
Crown Svo. 3s. 6d.
The Methods of Historical Study. Eight Lectures read in the
University of Oxford in Michaelmas Term, 1884, with tho Inaugural Lecture
on "The Office of the Historical I'rofessoi-." Svo. 10s. 6d.
The Chief Periods of European History. Six Lectures read in
the University of Oxford in Trinity Term, 1885, with an Essay on "Greek
Cities under Roman Rule." Svo. 10s. 6d.
Four Oxford Lectures, 1887. Fifty Years of European
History — Teutonic Conquest in Oaul and Britain. Demy Svo. is.
History of the Cathedral Church of "WeUs. As Hlustrating the
History of the Cathedral Churches of tho Old Foundation. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d.
Old English History. With Five Coloured Maps. Ninth Edition,
revised. Extra fcap. Svo. 6s.
ByJ. R SEELEY, M.A.,
Regius Professor of Jlodern History in the University of Cambridge.
Lectures and Essays. Svo. 10a 6d.
The Expansion of England. Two Courses of Lectures. Crown
Svo. 49. 6d.
Our Colonial Expansion. Extracts from "The Expansion of
England." Crown Svo. Is.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.

MESSRS. MACMILLAN AND CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

Part IV. —Public Opinion.
Part V.— Illustrations and Reflections.
Part VI.— Social Institutions.

Now Ready, in Three "Volumes, Demy Svo, Price 54s.
THE AMERICAN COMMONWBAIjTH. By James Bryce, M.P., D.C.L.,
Regius Professor of Civil Law in the University of Oxford, Author of ' The Holy Boman
Empire." 3 Vols. Demy Svo. 64s.
Part I.— The National Government.
Part II.— The State Governments.
Part III.— The Party System.
Library IMition. Uniform with ' The American Commonwealth '
THE HOLY EOMAN EMPIRE. By James Bryoe, M.P., D.C.L. Eighth
Edition. Library Edition. Demy Svo. 14s.
THE SWISS CONFEDBRATION. By SlE Franois Ottiwell Adams,
K.C.M.G., C.B., late Her Majesty's Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary at
Bern, and C. D. Cuhhinqham. Svo. 14s.
By Eoundell, Eael op Selboene.
A Defence of the Church of England against Disestablishment. With
an Introductory Letter to the Eight Hon. W. E. Gladstone, M.P., Popular Edition.
Crown Svo. 2s. Cd.
Ancient Facts and Fictions concerning Churches and Tithes. Crown
8vo. fs. 6d. -
By John Eichaed Geebn, M.A., LL.D. " y"
A Short History of the English People. With Coloured Maps, Genealogical
Tables, and Chronological Annals. New Edition thoroughly revised. Crown Svo. 8s. 6d.
137th Thousand. Also an Edition in Four Pai'ts for Schools, with the .corresponding
portion of Mr. Tait's Analysis bound up with each. Each Part 3s.
History of the English People. In 4 vols. Svo.
Vol. 1. Earlv England, 449-1071— Foreign Kings, 1071-1214- The Charter, 1214-1291—
The Parliament, 1307-1461. With Eight Coloured Maps. Svo. 16s.
Vol. IL The Monarchy, 1461-1450— The Eeformation, \a640-1603. Svo. 16s.
Vol. IIL Puritan England, 1603-1660— The Eevolution, 1660-1688. With Four Maps.
Svo. 16s.
Vol. IV. The Eevolution, 16SS-1760— Modern England, 1760-1S15. With Maps and
Index. Svo. 16s.
The Making of England. With Maps. Svo. 16s.
The Conquest of England. With Maps and Portrait. 16s.

Volumes I-IV, with Portraits, Now Ready, 2s. Qd. each.
ENGLISH MEN OF ACTION.
The First Four Volumes in the Series are now ready, namely : —
GENERAIi GORDON. By Colonel Sir William Butler.
The Spectator says :— ' This is beyond all question the best of the narratives ot the career of
General Gordon that have as yet been published.'
HENRY THE FIFTH. By the Rev. A. J. Church.
LIVINGSTONE. By Mr. Thomas Hughes.
LORD LAWRENCE. By Sir Richard Temple.
The Volume to follow is : —
WELLINGTON. By Mr. Gbouge Hooper.
*„* other Volumes are in the press and in preparation.

[In June.

Now publishing, crown Svo, price 2s. 6d. each.
TWELVE ENGLISH STATESMEN.
The Times says :— ' We had thought that the cheap issues of uniform volumes on all man-
nerof subjects were being overdone, but the "Twelve English Statesmen," published by .Messrs.
Macmillan, induce us to reconsider that dpinion. Without making invidious comparisons, we
¦may say that nothing better of the sort has yet appeared, if we may judge by the five volume.s
before us. The names of the writers speak for themselves.'
William the Conqueror. By Edward A.
Freeman, D.C.L., LL.D. [Beady.
Henry II. By Mrs. J. E. Green. [Beady.
Edward L By P. York Powell.
Henry VH. By James Gairdner. [Shortly.
Cardinal Wolsey. By Professor M. Creigh
ton, M.A., D.C.L., LL.D. [Ready.
Elizabeth. By E. S. Beesly.

Oliver Cromwell. By Frederic Harrison. [Beadv
WiUiam IIL By H. D. Traill. [Beadii
Walpole. By John Morley. [Slurtlii
Chatham. By John Morley.
Pitt. By John Morley. [Shortly
Peel. By J. E. Thdksfield. [Siwrlly

MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.

lllillillilillillllilliiilliilllllillll 'o
3 9002 00583 1749 ^

s&*