op I vo( - 2 The Scott Library Apologia Pro Vita Sua ...... FOR FULL LIST OF TilE VOLU IES IN TJIIS SERIES, Sl:E CATALOGUE AT E='ID OF DOOK Apologia By John New In an. .A Reprin t of the First Edition (1864), together ,yith the t\VO Pre- liminary Pamphlets: (I) " fr. I{ingsley and Dr. N e\vman: a Correspondence" ; (2) ""That, then, does Dr. K e\vman mean?" A H.eply by the Rev. Charles J{ingsley. Pro Vita Sua. Henry Cardinal Edited, with Introduction, by the Rev. JOlIN GAMBLE, B.D., Vicar of St. Mary's, Leigh \Voods, Bristol; Author of "Christ and Criticism," etc., etc. VOL. I. The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd. London and Felling-on-Tyne New York and l\lelbourne INTRODUCTION. THE book here offered to the reader IS an exact reprint of the Aþologia Pro Vt"ta Sua of John Henry Ne\vman as it first appeared in 1864. The circumstances \vhich led up to the composition of the A þologia may easily be gathered from the t\\"o antecedent pamphlets \vhich are to be found at the end of our second volume. The familiar story may, ho\vever, be told here once again. At the beginning of the year 1864, N e\vman, then in the sixty-third year of his age, received through the post a copy of the January number of Mac1Jzillan"s 1.1 aga::i1lc containing a revie\v of some of the volumes of Froude's IIistory of England signed by the initials "c. I{." In this article some unkno\vn hand had marked the folIo\\"ing passage so as to dra \v N c,,"- man's attention to it:- "Truth for its O\VIl sake had never been a virtue with the Roman clergy. Father Newolan informs us v VI INTRODUCTION that it need not be, and on the \vhole ought not to be; that cunning is the \veapon which !-Ieaven has given to the saints \vhere\vith to \vithstand the brute male force of the \vicked \vorld which marries and is given in marnage. vVhether his notion be doctrinal1y correct or not, it is, at least, historical1y so." Ne\yman \'Tote to the publishers pointing out that a magazine bearing their honoured name con- tained, a he expressed it, "this grave and gratuitous slander." They for\varded his letter to Charles I{ingsley, the author of the review, and there ensued behveen Newman and K.ingsley the correspondence \vhich N e\vman then published, and \vhich forms the first of our t\VO preliminary pamphlets. N e\vman's pamphlet dre\v fron1 I{ingsley another in reply \vith the title: "\Vhat, then, does Dr. N e\vman mean? " \vhich \ve also reprint. To this lengthy and vehement accusation the Apologia \vas the ans\\'er. It \vas written in great haste, and \\ as issued, in the first instance, in seven \yeekly parts on succes- sive. Thursdays bet\yeen April 21st and June 2nd, 186 4. An Appendix follo\ved on June 16th, in \vhich the author dealt in succeSSIon \vith thirty- INTRODUCTION Vll nIne specific allegations ,vhich he collected from I{ingsley's accusing pamphlet. In the second and all subsequent editions of the Aþologia Ne\vman omitted, as far as possible, every reference to the controversy \vhich had in the first instance occasioned it, and \vhich it brought to a close. He did this, as he says, from a feeling that the controversy possessed a merely "ephemeral interest." He thought that posterity ,,'ould concern itself only ".ith his history of his religious opinions, and not \vith the circumstances \vhich had caused the history to be \\Titten. He omitted in this \vay sOlne hundred pages of the original seven parts, and for the Appendix he substituted a series of Notes. It \vas not possible for him, ho\,'ever, he tells us, to change the character of his book or to efface the indications given by its structure of the controversy to \\"hich it o\ved its birth. Its very title suggested its origin, for a defence ilnplies an assailant. He accordingly inserted, as an addition to the Preface of 1865, as nllIch of the on1itted chapters as he felt to be necessary for the understanding of \\,hat folIo\\"ed. The \vriter of the pamphlet, "\Vhat, then, does Dr. N e\\"man mean?" ".as no\v described only , Vl11 INTRODUCTION as the accuser, and "'as not mentioned by name. Such is the form in \vhich this famous book appears in all editions subsequent to the first. The history of the book may thus perhaps recall that of a yet more memorable expression of the religious genius, The Thoughts of Pascal. Here also the original form of \"hat ultin1ately became a book \vas effaced for \,"hat appeared \yorthy reasons, not, it is true, by the \\Titer himself, but by the friends \\'ho became possessed of his papers, and \vho ,,"ished to protect his memory. It \,-as only after many years that the Thoughts as Pascal had actually left them \vere given to the ,,'orld. In the case of the Aþologz.a, the circumstances of its composition \yould no\v seem to be in the ""orst possible situation. They are neither kno\\"n nor forgotten. l\Iany still vaguely remember to have heard of a duel behveen K.ingsley and Ne,,'man, and sometimes \ye hear one of the t\VO disputants and sometimes the other spoken of as the victor. Such vague kno\vledge is surely a greater dishonour to the memories of these distinguished men than co 111 plete ignorance. On the other hand, the first edition of the A þologia is readily procurable, and is only put INTRODUCTION IX beyond the reach of ordinary readers by the trouble and cost involved in searching for a copy. No one \vho compares the earli r \vith the later form of the book can fail to see the great superiority of the first edition, and to feel the passion \yhich throbs especially in the portions subsequently omitted. The entire book is here again offered the reader for the first time since 1864. The Ì\vo pamphlets \vhich preceded and occasioned it are also reprinted. The reader has thus all the Inaterials at his disposal to enable him to form a j udgmen t upon this famous controversy, and upon the immortal book \vhich it called into being. He \vill notice that t\VO distinct questions are raised. First he is called upon to determine \vhether the particular accusation made in the n1agazine has been sUQstantiated,-\vhether N e\vman had ever said or implied that truth for its o\vn sake \vas not, and need not be, a virtue \vith the Roman clergy. I f the reader decides that this charge \vas un\varrantable, he n1ay then inquire \vhether any proper retractation or apology ,,-as offered by I,-ingsley. It \vill be seen, ho\vever, that, beyond this narro\v issue, a n1uch ,,"ider one rises into vie,,'. '\' e are invited to consider \vhether x INTRODUCTION Ne\vman's attitude to\vards religion \,"as not a pre- judgment of its fundamental problems, and thus incompatible ,,'ith a love of truth for its own sake. There might of course be such an in- compatibility, and yet Ne\vman himself be quite una\vare of it. Regarding the narro\v question actually at issue bet\\"een the Ì\yo disputants, there is hardly room for difference of opinion. It is clear that I{ingsley made, in the 1\lagazine, a definite and serious charge ,yhich he neither substantiated nor \yithdre\v. In support of his accusation he appealed, as \vill be seen, to a sermon entitled" \Visdon1 and Innocence," \vhich N e\Vlnan had preached t\VO years before hi sece sion, and ,yhich Inay be found in his volun1e, Serl1lOllS on Subjects .of the Day. Thus even if the sermon could have borne the interpretation \vhich l{ingsley put upon it, it ,vould still have remained an _\nglican sermon, one for \yhich the Roman Church had no sort of responsibility. I t must, ho\vever, be clear to every careful reader that I{ingsley's interpretation is altogether un""arrant- able. Either he had read the sermon hastily and put it inlpatiently a\yay, or the texture of his mind INTRODUCTION XI put the meaning beyond his reach. In any case, the craft and duplicity \vhich he thought to be recommended in the sermon are in reality expressly forbidden. \Vhat N e\vrnan \vished to convey "'as that Christians in ages of persecution aþþeared to be crafty and designing, \\Then in reality they \vere only abstaining from open attacks upon their enelnies and seeking safety in silence and submission. The sermon is, perhaps more than is usual \vith Ne\\"man, open to misconstruction, and indeed only fully in- telligible \vhen vie\ved in the light of the author's peculiar sitùation at the nloment. 1 Certainly I<:ings- ley misjudged it \,"hen he took it to mean tha t 1 The St. rmon \\ as preached on February 19, 1843. II was thus apparently one of the last five or six of his Anglican sermons (see list at the end of Sermons Oil Subjeds of tIle Day). lIe was greatly harassed at the time hy chargp.s of duplicity and secret disloyally to the Church of which he was still a member. lIe sought a parallel to his own situation in the misrepresentations to which the early disciples of Christ were exposed, and which their Master had forbidden them actively to repel. They appeared to he stealthy and deceitful when they were only oheying the precept which forbade them to resist evil. The text of the sermon was :\lalt., x. 16: "Behold I send yon forth :1.S sheep in the midst of wolves; be ye therefore wise as scrpents and harmlcss as doves. ,. xu INTRODUCTION N e\vman, and those ,yho thought \vith him, did not regard truth as a virtue. It \,'ill be equally plain to the reader that the charge hastily made in the revievv \vas not \,'ith- dra,,'n either in the letter of apology first submitted to Ne\vman or in the one that ultimately appeared in the 1lagazine. \Vhat both letters suggest is that N e\vman had disavo,,'ed the meaning \vhich I{ingsley put upon certain specified passages in his ,vritings. The possibility \yas still left that Kingsley's inter- pretation might be the true one, or at least that it ,vas a very natural one. In truth, ho\vever, Kingsley had produced no passages \vhatever, and had never attempted to sho\v that Ne\vman had ever said that truth need not be a virtue \vith the Catholic clergy. 'Ve cannot ,,'onder therefore that the final apology \vas not allo\\'ed to end the dispute. The second pamphlet, "What, then, does Dr. N e\Ylnan mean?" raises a much \vider question, and one \vhich is much less susceptible of a direct ans\ver. The pamphlet is, \ve must confess, most unskilfully \\Titten. It abounds in faults of per- ception, of reasoning, and of taste, ,yhich N e\yman, as \vill be seen, in his Appendix mercilessly exposes. I TRODUCTION Xill If, ho\vever, \ve endeavour to reach, not \\7hat Kingsley did say, but what he \vished to say, ,\\7e may perhaps be able to do him greater justice than he has generally met \\lith from those 'who have dealt \vith this controversy.l Disengaged, then, from the many fallacious and confused charges and insinuations in ,vhich the pamphlet abounds, its most important contention seems to lie in the proposition that Ne\vman had made himself incapable of distinguishing bet\veen historical truth and falsehood. It evidently seemed to I{ingsley impossible that N e\vman, being what he ,vas, could really credit some of the stories and legends \vhich he had either himself put for\vard as worthy of credence, or aIlo\\>ed, without protest, to be put forth by his friends. The conclusion consequently appeared irresistible that 1 Cf. Froude, Sllort Studies on Great Subjects (vol. iv. p. 270, Cabinet Ed.): "Charles Kingsley is gone from us. English readers know now what he was, and from me or from anyone he needs no further panegyric. In that one instance (the controversy with Newman) he conducted his case unskilfully. lIe was wrong in his estimate of the character of his antagonist, whose integrity was as unhlemished as his own. But the last word has sti1l to be spoken on the essential question which was at issue between them." XIV INTRODUCTION e\vman had either lost the sense of truth or was professing to credit vvhat he really knew to be un- \vorthy of credence. Thus a large part of the pamphlet is taken up \vith N e\vman's attitude to ecclesiastical miracles. I t is these pages, and the reply \vhich N e\vman gave to them, \vhich appear to the present "Titer to form the decisive movement in the whole battle. Ne\vman, it \vill be seen, tells us that he approached an ecclesiastical miracle, not in the spirit of the critical historian, but \vith the hope that it might prove to be true. The question in his mind \vas: \Yhy may not this alleged occurrence really have happened, as it is related? N O\V here \ve can perceIve one reason ,vhy it should not have so happened of \vhich he \vould appear to have taken little or no account: this is the likelihood that such stories should gain currency even ,,'hen they are destitute of historical foundation. \Ve can point to various causes \vhich might create, and in actual fact have again and again created them out of nothing. Such are the veneration \\'ith \vhich remarkable persons con tin ue to be regarded after their death, the belief in their continued presence INTRODUCTION xv and po\ver amidst the scenes ",here they once lived, and the interest a particular Church ,,"ould have in encouraging any belief that \vould tend to its pros- perity or its aggrandizement. These are causes likely to transform natural occurrences into miracles, and to gain credence for miracles \vhich never took place. \Ye approach reports of n1iracles such as are contained in the Lives of the English Saints váth this antecedent kno,,,ledge in our minds. Thus the question is not \vith us as N e\vrnan puts it: "\Vhy may not these things be ? " I t is rather: "Are they more likely to have occurred than to have been called into bèing by one or other of the lnany causes \vhich, as \ve kno\v, create miracles out of nothing? " This being our attitude, ,vc scrutinize closely the evidence for each alleged 111iraclc. And it is very rarely, as Kingsley urges, that the evidence \vill bear a rigorous examination. SometilTIcs there is a gap of many years bCÌ\\'een the alleged miracle and the testimony of the first undoubted \yitness. Some- times the occurrence is explicable \\'ithout the supposition of any supernatural intervention, and very often the legend can be seen gro\\'ing in marvel- lousness as the actual fact recedes. Thus even XVI INTRODUCTIO \vithout d nying the possibility of ecclesiastical "miracles," or dra\ving a rigid line bet\\yeen the apostolic age and the ages \vhich foIlo\ved, \ve might still not be able to find one single ecclesiastical miracle \vhich \vould seem to us to be established by indisputable evidence. To N e,vman, ho\vever, the question \vas "Ho\v many of these miracles can I accept? " not" How many of them am I obliged by the principles of evidence to reject, or at least to pass by?" His endeavours to justify his attitude towards these real or supposed occurrences must appear to a reader of to-day singularly unconvincing. He quotes (Appendix, p. 175) the opinion of Sir David Bre\vester in favour of there being." l\lore ,,'orlds than ours," and he suggests that as regards the existence of such \vorlds our situation is identical ,,'ith that in \vhich \ve are placed by legendary or miraculous occurrences not adequately authenticated. In both cases \ve are contemplating something \\'hich ntay be but of ,,'hich there is no conclusive evidence. And he asks ,vhy his opponent should blame him for believing in the reality of ecclesiastical miracles \vhen he would not blame Sir David Bre\vester for believing in the plurality of worlds. But there is no antecedent INTRODUCTION . I XVll improbability against a plurality of \\"orlds. The prob- ability is, indeed, in favour of their existence. For it is 1110St unlikely that our small planet should be the only inhabited spot in this vast universe. On the other hand, there is, as has been said, a variety of rea ons \\"hy miracles, in reality fictitious, should have been supposed to have taken place. -, The argument from Scripture is equally unsatisfy- Ing. Ne\\'man urges (Appendjx, p. 180) that the cures \vrought by relics should not be pronounced " extravagant" unless \ye are prepared to call the Scriptures "extra,>agant," inasmuch as such cures are related also in thenl. This may be called the "all or nothing" argunlent, and it is one of \yhich he is very fond. It amounts to saying that the beliefs \ve already hold bind us to others \yhich \ye at present deny. He points here to the resuscitation of a dead l11an by the bones of Elisha (2 I{ings, xiii. 20, 2 I); to the diseases healed by the napkins carried from the body of S1. Paul (Acts, xix. I I, 12); and to the cures \vhich follo\"ed the descent of the angel into the pool of Bethesda (John, v. 2, 9)' The argument implies that the various books of the Bible all possess equal and indisputable authority, b XVl11 iNTRObuCTÏON and that every incident related in the sacred volulne l11ust be held to have happened precisely as it is described. \Vhether this nlechanical conception of inspiration \"as actually helq by the l11ajority of the readers for ,,-hom the Aþologt'a \vas intended may be questioned. I t is certainly no longer the accredited vie\v either in the Roman or in the Refon11ed Churches. Indeed, ,,-e find N e\\-I11an himself shrink- ing from such a conception. He expresses relief at being permitted to deny the universality of the Deluge, although the Deluge is unquestionably re- presented as universal in the Book of Genesis. 1 Let us, ho,,"ever, look at the three incidents upon ,yhich he fixes our attention. \Ye find that each of the three possesses some characteristic \vhich prevents us from appealing to its \yitness. \Ve recognize that there is a legendary elel11ent in the historical books of the Old Testal11ent as in the early annals of other races, and \\ye perceive its 1 LeUer to Mr. Capes, September 16th, 1850. "Thank you fur F. Perrone, \\ hich I will return. It relieves mc to find that to deny the universality of the Dduge i not even temerarious. At the same time, the time has not come for confidence about any theory." -Life, hy'V. \Vard. Vol. i., p. 249. INTRODUCTION XIX presence 111 the brief allusions to the n1iracles of Elisha. As for the narrative in the Acts, general descriptions of cures like the one in question give us very little infonnation about ,vhat actually took place. They tell us nothing of the nature of the healings, nor do they enable us to form any judgment as to their permanence. This is a most vital con- sideration in the case of all nervous afflictions. In such cases there is often a sudden recovery, but the disorder returns \vhen life resumes its ordinary even course. Still less conclusive is the account of the descent of the Angel in the fourth Gospel. The oldest ISS: contain no Inention of such descent. If the 1110st recent version of the Ne\v Testament be looked at, it \yill be seen that the verse in question has been olnitted from the text as lacking adequate authentication, and there is nothing left in ,,,hat remains \\'hich necessarily implies any supcrnature.l intervention. If, ho\\"ever, the vie\\"s of the t \\"0 disputants on this vital subject be carefully cOll1parcd, it ,,,ill be found that the gulf bet\\'een thenl is one which no argument can bridge. "That I ingsley urges is that the realitv of the ecclesiastical miracles shall be xx INTRODUCTION determined by the ordinary la \VS of evidence. He \\'ould \vish the question to be decided by the rigorous procedure follo\ved in a court of justice. N eWlnan, on the other hand, ,,"ould deny that such a dis- passienate criticism ""as a proper method by \vhich to establish their reality. The question for him is not "Is their occurrence placed beyond reasonable doubt?" I t is rather: "Is there any conclusive reason 'why I should \vithhold IllY belief in the case of anyone of these miracles in particular?" So he can find no convincing reason \,'hy he should doubt the liquefaction of the blood of S. J anuarius, or the miraculousness of the oil exuded by the relics of S. \Valburga. He has no antecedent difficulty In believing that the house of Joseph and IVlary In Nazareth ,vas transported by angels throügh the air and planted in Loreto, in Southern Italy.! 1 "I went to Loreto with a simple faith, believing what I still more believed when I saw it. I have no doubt now. If you ask me why I believe, it is because everyone believes it at Rome; cautious as they are and sceptical about some other things,-I believe it then as I believe that there is a new planet called Neptune, or that chloroform destroys the sense of pain" I have no antecedent difficulty in the matter."-Letter to Henry \Vilberfurce of Jan. 19, 1848, Life, vol. i. p. 19 8 . INTRODUCTION XXI Plainly, it is not in the po\ver of any process of reasoning to bring these t\yO disputants together. The assent of N e\vman to these miracles is not the result of a consideration of the evidence. He approaches · them "Tishing to believe, and he re- joices \vhen he finds that belief is possible. It \vas this mental attitude \yhich I{ingsley could not under- stand, and \vhich he pronounced inconsistent with truthfulness. He \vas admittedly ,,'rong \\Then he assailed his opponent's personal integrity, for no man of his generation suffered lnore seriously for what he regarded as the truth's sake than Ne\Vl11an. .. I t may, ho\vever, \vell be doubted \yhether the mental attitude in question ,,'ould not leave the door of the l11ind open to every pious fraud anà every profitable superstition. The Inind ha õt dangerous po\ver of projecting its o\vn hopes and fears into the region of external realities, and so finding \vhat It seeks. Thus his assailant, as Ne\vman perceived, could not be effectively ans\vered by dealing \\,ith his charges in succession. The only real ans\ver lay in an exposure of the texture of N e\Vl11an's l11ind. l{ingsley's real difficulty \yas an inability to under- XXll INTRODUCTION stand ho\y N e\vman, being, as he \\?as reputed, "the most acute lnan of his generation," could have arrived at the religious position he actually held. " Yes, I said to myself, his very question is about my 1}leaning: '\Vhat does Dr. Ne\vman mean?' . . . He asks \vhat I 1Jlean; not about my \vords, not about my arguments, not about lny actions, as his ultimate point, but about that living intelligence by \vhich I \vrite and argue and act. He asks about my mind and its beliefs and its sentiments, and he shall be answered." (..1 pologia, p. 37.) The ans\ver \\?as the book ,,?hich no\v lies before the reader, a record of religious experience \vhose candour and sincerity have never been questioned, and which produced an immense and pennanent effect upon the English mind. The key to the spiritual progress \vhich the book traces lies in an important passage \vhose full purport should not be overlooked. The most significant feature in every spiritual record is its. starting-point-the premises \vhich the \vriter carries with him as he moves on. These in the case before us are made quite plain in some memorable \vords of the Aþologia. "From the age of fifteen," the \vriter tells us, " dogma has been INTRODUCTION XXIIl the funåamental principle of my religion: I kno\v no other religion; I cannot enter into the idea of any other sort of religion. . . . \Yhat I held in 1816 I held in 1833, and I hold in I 86..f. Please God, I shall hold it to the end. Even \,"hen I \\'as under Dr. \Vhateley's influence I had no temptation to be less zealous for the great dogmas of the faith, and at various times I used to resist such trains of thought on his part as seel11ed to me (rightly or \\'rongly) to obscure then1." (.Jþologz"a, p. 96.) It i:; inlportant to observe \yhat "dogn1a " 111 this passage means. The \\'ord n1eant for Ne\vman a series of prôpositions of \yhich the substance had been supernaturally revealed, and \\"hich \\"ere con- sequently beyond the reach of hU111an criticism. These propositions had elnbodied then1selves in the creeds and institutions of the Church. They Inight be illustrated [ron1 the Bible, but they existed there only in an il11plicit and unfonnulated shape. Ultimately they nlight be traced back to Divine comlnunications 111ade to privileged persons. So they caIne froln a sphere above the operations of the intellect, and Blust either be unrescrvedly re- ceived or absolutely rejected. . XXiV INTRODUCTION The reader of the Aþologia \\"ill observe that the questions \vhich occupy the mind of N e\vman leave these fundamental propositions entirely untouched. He never attempts to enter the forbidden field, and to inquire ho\v the Bible and the creeds came to be. He tells us (p. 45) that fron1 an early age he rested "in the thought of t\yO and t\\"o only supreme and luminously self-evident beings," himself and his Creator. But \\"hile in 1110st minds the great idea of God receives constant corrections and enlarge- ments as life proceeds and experience \videns, there is nothing to sho\v that this happened in his case. To the end he found no difficulty in thinking of God as a Being who could endo\v one of His creatures \vith a potent faculty and then set up a mechanical barrier to restrict its employment. Then is really nothing to sho\v that this great idea \vhich forms the foundation of religion ever in his case under\\'ent any serious l11odification. I t retained throughout its original simplicity. So he asks in a letter \vritten in 1849 :-" Is it more improbable that eternal punishment should be true or that there should be no God? for if there be a God, there is eternal punishment." 1 1 Life, p. 246, INTRODUCTION xxv SOlne of the most luminous pages \vhich N e\yman has \yritten bear upon the nature and scope of University education. He \yished the Catholic University in Dublin, of ,,"hich he \vas for a fe\\' troubled years the Rector, to be a place of free scientific and historical instruction. On this point he had serious differences of opinion \vith many of the Irish bishops. \Ve see, ho\Ye\'er, that he no less than they considered the Church's doglnas to lie outside the field of scientific and historical criticisnl. He never apparently contemplated the possibility that scientific and historical research might so nlodify the fundamèntal idea of religion, the idea of God, that the statements of doglna \vould become in- adequate or misleading. lIe did not contemplate any transfornlation of this idea by the labours of other Inen, because he \vas not conscious of any such transformation \\"ithin his o\\"n experience. So \ve find that the questions \\'hich form stages in the development of his nlind are all such as separate Christians froln Christians, and not such as divide believers from unbelievers. They belong to the Church's internal history, and not to the per- petual \yarfare in \\'hich she is engaged \\"ith her XXVI INTRODUCTION enemies outside. Thus \ye find the "Titer believing at fifteen that he \yas predestined to eternal life. Some years after\vards there is planted in his nlind the" fundalnental truth" of the Trinity of the God- head, and he makes a collection of Scripture texts in support of the doctrine, and of each verse of the Athanasian Creed (p. 46). Subsequently he is deeply moved by a history of the primitive Church, and he becomes firnlIy convinced that the Pope is the Anti- Christ predicted by Daniel, S. Paul, and S. John. Butler's A 11 a logy led him to regard the visible ,,"orId as the sYlnbol or pledge of supersensual realities, and to consider probability as the guide of life. And finally "liberalism" riveted his thoughts upon the nature and the function of the Church, a subject \vhich in one or other of its aspects preoccupied him to the end. He tells us plainly \yhat he Ineant by "liberalism" in a note \vhich he added to the Aþologia in the edition of 1865.1 "Liberalism," he there says, "is the mistake of 5ubjecting to hunlan judgment those revealed doctrines \yhich are in their nature beyond and independent of it, and of claiming to determine on intrinsic grounds the truth and 1 Reprinted at end of vol. ii. INTRODUCTION XXYIl value of propositions \vhich rest for their reception sim ply on the external authority of the Divine \'T ord." Here is the förbidden field \vithin \yhose precincts the human intelligence must not presume to enter. No account, it \yill be observed, is taken of the hUlnan element in the composition of the Dible. I t is also assumed that the authoritative propositions have been infallibly collected from the sacred book, and that they exist in a form \vhich admits of no further modification. These stereo. typed propositions haye been committed to the Church to uard. She is thus a break\vater against the inroads of the human reason \vhich, if left to itself, leads inevitably to atheism and anarchy. (A þologia, yol. ii. p. 106.) Thus, \,"hat \ve see in the \\Titings of Ne\yman is a mind of extraordinary force and fineness, ever in motion, arguing, discriminating, exposing, refuting, yct remaining throughout \vithin certain lin1its \vhich it is under no tenlptation to transcend. Outside there lie great questions \vhich for 1110St of us have a prior claim, and demand to be settled before those of the .LIþnlogia are approached. These, ho\vcyer, do not occupy N e\vman, because they haye been XXVl11 INTRODUCTION ans,,'ered once for all before his spiritual progress begins. He has left them behind him before he starts upon his journey. There \vere, at the moment \"hen the days of his pupilage ended, and his independent life began, t\\'O subjects \vhich, had he devoted himself to their study, might have forced hin1 to leave his entrench- ments. I{ant was born in 1724, and died in 1804, v.hile the life of Hegel lay bet,,'een 1770 and 18 3 1 . N e\vman v;as ignorant of German; and even if he had known this language, the theological significance of these \vriters \vas not apparent in England \vhen he ,vas an Oxford undergraduate. I n any case there is nothing to sho\v that he had foIlo\ved the progress of philosophy from its beginning up to his o"'n time. He speaks of haviFlg read" some of H ul11e's essays, and perhaps that on '11iracles,'" \vhen a boy of fourteen. He eVIdently regarded Hume, ho\vever, then and after\vards, as a mere assailant of revealed religion, and thus he \vould not be in a position to appreciate the force of this "Titer's argument against miracles. There is no indication that he perceived the great importance of the question raised by H ume's philosophical \\Titings. Still less ,vas he INTRODUCTION XXIX In a position to appreciate I ant's solution of the problenl thus propounded. l Indeed there are some \vords of N e\vman's, \\Titten in 1839, \vhich sho\v ho\v strange German thought seemed to him, even \vhen presented in an English dress. "I commend to your notice," he \\-rites to his correspondent, " if it comes in your \vay, Carlyle on the French Revolu- tion. A queer, tiresome, obscure, profound, and original \vork. The \\Titer has not very clear prin- ciples and vie\ys, I fear, but they are very deep." (Letters and C orrespolldellce, vol. ii. p. 281. The italics are Ne\vman's.) The oth r subject which might have profoundly changed N e\vman's theology, had he allo\\"ed it to engage his mind, is the nature of the Bible. He does not ever appear to have felt the necessity of InquirIng ho\v the Bible came to be formed, or of subjecting the origin and structure of its separate \vritings to any fresh exall1ination. tIe accepted the book as he found it, first in the translation of 1611, and then in the Douai version, and he appears to have regarded all its contents as of equal inspiration 1 The reader will find a lucid account of this proLlem and anewer in Sir Leilie Stephen's EIl.;lish Thought ill the Eighteenth Celltlir}'. xxx INTRODUCTION and authority. Thus his treatment of the Bible is often fairly be\\'ildering to a reader of to-day. He \vill base an entire sermon on the interpretation of a text \v hich a more searching exegesis sho\vs to be at least doubtfu1.l The most startling and, as it seen1S to us, perverse illustration of his handling of Scrip- ture is, ho\vever, to be found in the t\\.o "Tracts for the Tin1es," after\\"ards reprinted in Discussions and .A rg1t11tCllts under the title "Scripture and the Creeds." Here \\"e haye another example of the "kill or cure" argument already referred to. The \\Titer endeavours to sho\v the "Protestants," to \\"hom the t\VO tracts are addressed, that they are illogical in objecting to this or that part of the " Catholic " system on the ground that there is no sanction for it in Scripture, \vhen there is just as little sanction there for many of their o\yn beliefs. Thus, if Apostolical succession cannot be proven to have the authority of Scripture, neither can the doctrine of the Trinity. If Christian ministers are 1 Cf. the sermon on "Steadfastness in the Old Paths" in vot. vii. of the Pmochial a1ld Plain Sermo1ls, ed. 1881, where the verse Jer. vii. 16 is made to support the theory that religion, unlike science and art, is not susceptiLle of progress. INTRODUCTION XXXi not called priests in the N e\y Testament, neither is the deity of the third Person of the Godhead plainly asserted. In support of this argull1ent he brings for\vard illustrations \\ hich to our eyes have a curiously out\\yorn look. Indeed the entire essay seems at this distance of time a pathetic example of \yasted ingenuity and irrelevant dialectic. The argument rests entirely upon the assumption that thc inspiration of the Bible is, in the n1inds of "Protestants," equivalent to its infallibility; that there is no middle course bet\ycen adlnitting its inerrancy a d rejecting it as valueless. \.. et no \\Titer perhaps, not even Ruskin, has ever found n10re surprising, and at the same time con- vincing n1eanings in the \\"ords of Scripturc than N e""man. He brought to their interpretation Ì\yO qualities \yhich are at least as essential as critical exactness-the ilnagination of the pact and the rcverence of the devout belicver. So he sOInctilTICS n1akes the Bible preach for hilll for a \vhole page at a tin1e. "fhe fan10us SCflnon on the "Parting of l riends" seems thus at first sight littlc 1110re than a mosaic of detached texts. .A reader, una ware of the . XXX] 1 INTRODUCTION preacher's situation at the moment,l might think it disconnected and pointless. Yet every sentence and every incident are charged \vith meaning. The various inevitable separations of friends in Scripture are brought \vith n1arvellous ingenuity to illuminate and hallo\v the situation of the speaker and his listeners. \Ve do not \vonder at the deep feeling recorded to have been produced by the simple and apparently artless ,,'ords. 0 \\Titer of our o\vn, or perhaps any generation, has so made the \vords of the English Bible speak to the heart and the con- SCIence. "T e hear "the religious music-subtle, s\\"eet, mournful," of \vhich a famous contemporary spoke, as \ye read such passages as the folIo\ving:- " 0 n1ay "'e ever bear in Inind that \\'e are not sent in to this \vodd to stand all the day idle, but to go forth 1 The sermon was preached in Liulemore on SeptemLer 25th, 1843. from the text" l\Ian goeth forth to his work and his laLour until the evening." It was Newman's last Anglican sermon, and was designed to show, by means of various Scripture instances, that the separation of friend3, however painful, might none the less become an imperative duty. The sermon is said to have moved to tears many of Newman's friends who had come out from Oxford to hear it. 2 I. Arnold, "Essay on Emerson." I TRODUCTION XXXlll to our \vork and our labour until the evening! Until the evening, not ill the evening only of life, but serving God froln our youth, and not \vaiting till our years fail us. Until the evening, not in the daytilne only, lest \ve begin to run \vell, but fall a\yay before our course is ended. Let us {give glory to the Lord our God, before He cause darkness, and before our feet stumble upon the dark nlotll1Ìains'; and having turned to IIim, let us see that our goodness be not' as the nlorning cloud and as the early de\v \vhich passeth ;nvay.' The end is the proof of the Blatter. \Vhen the sun shines, this earth pleases; but let us loük to\vard that eventide and the cool of th" day, when the Lord of the vineyard \\'ill \valk alnid the trees of I-lis g-arden, and say unto His steward-' Call the labourers, and give thelll their hire. beginning fro111 the last unto the first.' " So this great \\Titer \\ as, as \\"e all are, a child of his tirnc, hemmed in by the Iinlitations illlposed by the particular period in ,,"hich it \vas givcn to hinl to I iyc. I Ie had PO\\ ers of introspcctive analysis, of logical discrimination and literary expression, such as are only besto\\"cd upon the most giftcd of Inankind. But he exercised thesc po,,"crs \\ ithin a surprisingly restricted field. Outside thcre \\ en: . t xxxiv INTRODUCTION momentous interests and importunate questions whose consideration might have profoundly modified his convictions, but from \vhich he felt himself to be peremptorily excluded.! The success of the Aþologia \yas immediate and complete. Indeed the appearance of the book may perhaps be regarded as the high-,yater mark of N e\vman's earthly happiness. The years before and after look like an almost continuous series of n1is- understandings and disappointments. N e\vman once \yrote to a friend that it seemed to him as if he had ahvays been in the position of a l11an "plucked" In an examination. There \yas nothing, ho\vever, to mar the success of the 4þologia. It did n1uch to remove the distrust \yith \vhich the \vriter and his co-religionists had long been regarded by the British people, and to a \\'aken that better feeling of \vhich \ye no\\' see so n1any evidences. The book \vas also 1 Cf: Pattison, Alemoirs, p. 210. ,. A. p" Stanley once said to me, , I low different the fortunes of the Church of England might have been if Newman had been able to read German.' That puts the matter in a nut-shell; Newman assumed and adorned the narrow basis on which Laud had stvod twc hundred years before. AI1 the grand development of human reason from .Aristotle down to lIegel was a scaled book to him. " INTRODUCTION xxxv receiv d \vith the liveliest gratitude by the Roman Catholic clergy in England and throughout the English-speaking ,vodd. I t called forth from the priests of many dioceses congratulatory addresse.s to N e\vman, \vhich gave him the keenest pleasure, and removed for a time at least that feeling of isolation to which many of his previous and subsequent letters bear \vitnass. There is no evidence that he ever regretted the step he took in 1845. There are, ho\y- ever, many indications that he had been, previous to the publícation of the Aþolog'ia, something of an enigma \vithin the communion he had joined. I t has often been asked \vhat e\Vn1an \yould have thought of thc \\Titings of the Abbé Loisy and Father George Tyrrcl had he lived to read them. The ans\\'er may be given in the latter's o\vn \yords: " \ny sort of revolution seem cd to them (i.e., to Lammenais, Lacordaire, 1Iontalcmbert, and N c\\"- Blan) incompatiblc \vith substantial continuity. To the modernist it does not seem so. \Vhether in the history of nations, or in the \\'orld of organic life, he recognizes revolution to bclong to the normal course of development; that the larval life runs its course evenly, up to a certain point, only to prepare the XXX\'1 INTRODUCTIO:t\ Yay for a perfectly normal reconstitution. He is convinced that Catholic Christianity cannot liye much longer on the old lines; that it has already reached a stone \yall \yhich it nlust surmount, unless it be content to d\yindle a,yay, as it is even no\v doing. The ti111e has COlne, he thinks, for a criticis111 of categories, of the verv ideas of religion, of revelation, of institutionalism, of sacranlentalis111, of theology, of authority, etc. He believes that the current expression of these ideas is only provisional, and is inadequate to their true values." 1 N e\Yl11an died in the evening of August 11th, 18 9 0 . I-Ie \vas buried at l\.ednal, and on the slab oyer his grave \,"ere inscribed the \\"ords, "Ex llJJzbrz:s et i1Jzagin ibllS ÚI veritatc11l:' Perhaps the unity of \vhich he dreamed so persistently, and for \\ hich he 11lade such heavy sacrifices, \"as one of those transcendental realities of \vhich \ye here only see the shado\ys and the symbols. 1 ChrÙ/ianlt)' at tk Cro.'-s NoalÚ, Preface. p. xx. JOII G \ lnLE. JUJ/t! 19 I J. \ 1)(1 fj()fil Ä\ I)I () 'Tj'11 1 \ SU1\: BE] !"C tplll to a il3i\l1\pltlci 1 :-;TlTLED "\YIL.\ T, TIlER, DOES DR. NE\Vl\IAN l\IE.AN 1 '1 "Commit thy way to the Lord, aud trust in H ill1, awl He ,\ ill (10 it. .\wl 11(' willlJring- forth thy ju'Stit'e as t}le light, mal thy jUtlg- lHt'nt as the noon-day." B \r J 0 I I N I I l N l{ \T N I \ \7:\ I l\ 1\, 1).1) . LU-XDu1': LOXG'L\:\, (;}tEEX, LO (DL\X, HUBEltTS, A V (;ItEE . 1 ü4. CONTENTS. PART I. P A(;P: tR. KINGSLEY'S METHOD OF DISPUTATION. I PART II. TRUE MODE OF fEETING fR. KINGSLEY. 2 r PART III. HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS. 4 1 P.<\RT IV. HISTORY OF MY RFLIGIOUS OPI IO S. 81 PART V. HISTOl{Y of lY ELIGIOCS OPlr-.;IONS. . J4-E f\POLOGlf\ PI{O \YI'r.c\ SU \. PART I. :\lIL KIXC.SLEY'S :\IETIIOD OF VISP(TT.\TIOX. I l'.\XXOT be sorry to have forced 1\1r. I ingsley to bring out in fulness his charges against nle. I t is far bettcr that he should discharge his thoughts upon nle in nlY lifetime, than after I am dead. Under the ci rcutnstances I anl happy i1l having the opportunity of reading the worst that can be said of nle by a \yri ter \"ho has taken pains with his \york and is ,,-ell satisfied with it. I account it a gain to be surveyed frOtll ,,-ithout by one who hates the principles \yhich are nearest to Iny heart, has no personal knowledge of nle to sct right his l11is- conceptions of my doctrine, and who has sOlne nlotive or other to be as severe with I11e as he can possibly bc. And first of all, I beg to complirnent hinl on the tnotto in his Title-page; it is felicitous. ..\ Inotto should contain, as in a nutshell, the contents, or the ch.lracter, or the drift, or the flJlÙJlIlS of the writing to which it is prefixed. The ,,'ords which he has taken frol11 tIle are so apposi tc as to be alrIlost prophetical. There cannot be a bettcr iIlustration than he thereby affords of the aphorisnl which I intended thelll to con\-ey. I said that it is not Inorc than an hyperbolical cxpression to sa\' I. -- I , 2 APOLOGIA rRO YITA SUA. that in certain cases a lie is the nearest approa h to truth. 1\1r. K.ingsley's panlphlet is enlphatically one of such cases as are contenlplated in that proposition. I really believe, that his vie,v of t11e is about as near an approach to the truth about my writings and doings, as he is capable of taking. He has done his ,vorst to,vards nle; but he has also done his best. So far ,veil; but, ,vhile I impute to hinl no nlalice, I unfeignedly think, on the other hand, that, in his invective against me, he as faithfully fulfils the other half of the proposition also. This is not a mere sharp retort upon 1\1 r. I ingsler, as ,vill be seen, ,,,hen I conle to consider directly the subject, to ,,-hich the \vords of his tnotto relate. I have enlarged on that subject in various passages of my publications; I have said that minds in different states and circunlstances cannot understand one another, and that in all cases they nlust be instructed according to their capacity, and, if not taught step by step, they learn only so nll1ch the less; that children do not apprehend the thoughts of gro,vn people, nor savages the instincts of civilization, nor blind tnen the perceptions of sight, nor pagans the doctrines of Christianity, nor l1len the experiences of Angels. In the same "'ay, there are people of Blatter-of-fact, prosaic minds, \vho cannot take in the fancies of poets; and others of shallo,v, inaccurate 11linds, who cannot take in the ideas of philosophical inquirers. In a Lecture of l1line I have illustrated this phenomenon by the supposed instance of a foreigner, ,,,,ho, after reading a conlmentary on the principles of English La\\", does not get nearer to a real apprehension of thenl than to be led to accuse English- tnen of con idering that the Queen is inlpeccable and .. IR. KIXGSLEY'S :\lETHOD OF DTsrUTATIOX. 3 infallible, and that the Parlian1ent is ol'nnipotent. 11r. K.ingsley has read nle fronl beginning to end in the fashion in \"hich the hypothetical Russian read Black- stone; not, [ repeat, fro111 Inalice, but because of his intellectual build. I-I e appears to be so constituted as to ha\'e no notion of what goes on in nlinds very different froll1 his own, and llloreover to be stone-blind to his ignorance" A modest 111an or a philosopher ,,"ould have scrupled to treat \vith scorn and scoffing, as 1\1r. I(ingsley does in my OWI1 instance, principles and conyictions, even if he did not acquiesce in thenl himself, ,,'hich had been held so \videly and for so long,-the beliefs and devotions and custOITIS which have been the religious life of millions upon millions of Christians for nearly twenty centuries,-for this in fact is the task on \\'hich he is spending his pains. IIad he been a nlan of large or cautious mind, he would not have taken it f()r granted that cuIti\'ation must lead everyone to see things precisely as hc sees theln hilTIself. But the narro\\,- 111inded are the more prejudiced by very reason of their narrowness. The Apostle bids us "in 111alice be children, but in understanding he men." I anl glad to recognize in 1'1r. K ingsley an illustration of the first halt of this precept; but I should not be honest, if I ascribed to him any sort of fulfilnlcnt of the second. I wish I could speak as favourably either of his drift or of his 111cthod of arguing, as I can of his cOIl\'ictions. As to his drift, I think its ultinlate point is an attack upon the Catholic Religion. I t is I indeed, WhOBl he is inlillcdiately insulting,-still, hc vicws 111C only as a representativc, and on the whole a fair one, of a class or ,. 4 APOLOGIA PRO '?ITA SUA. caste of n1en, to whoI11, conscious as I anl of Iny 0\\11 integrity, I ascribe an excc11ence superior to I11ine. lIe desit-es to inlpress upon the public Inind the conviction that I anl a crafty, schenling luan, Sill1ply untrust\vorthy; that, in beconling a Catholic, I ha\Te just found n1Y right place; that I do but justify and anl properly interpreted by the comnlon English notion of ROlnan casuists and confessors; that I \vas secretly a Catholic ,,'hen I ,,'as openly professing to be a c1ergynlan of the Established Ch urch ; that so far froln bringing, by nleans of 111)' con- version, when at length it openly took place, any trength to the Catholic cause, I anl really a burden to it,--an additional eyidence of the fact, that to be a pure, gennan, genuine Catholic, a man nl ust be either a knave or a fool. These last \vords bring nle to 1\1r. K.ingsley's nlethod of disputation, \yhich I must criticize with much severity ;-in his drift he does but follow the ordinary beat of contro\?ersy, but in his mode of arguing he is actually dishonest. lIe says that I am either a knave or a fool, and (as \ve shall see by-and-by) he is not quite sure which, probably both. He tells his readers that on one occasion he said that he had fears I should " end in one or other of t\vo misfortunes." "He \yolIld either," he continues, "destroy his o\Yn sense of honesty-i.c..1 conscious truthfulness-and become a dishonest person; or he \vollld destroy his conlInon sen e-i.c., unconscious truthfulness, and beC0l11e the slave and puppet seenlingly of his own logic, really of his O\V11. fancy. . . . I thought for years past that he had beC0l11e the fonner; I now see that he has become the latter." (p. 291). r\gain, 1R. KIXGSLEY'S lETHOD OF DISPUT..\TIO . .. ) "\Vhen I read these outrages upon comlnon sense, \vhat \vonder if I said to nlyself, 'This tnan cannot be- lieve \vhat he is saying ?'" (p. 29i).1 Such has been Ir. K.ingsley's state of tnind till lately , but no\v he considers that I atn possessed \\yith a spirit of " alnlost boundless silliness," of "sill1ple creùuli ty, the child of scepticisln," of " absurdity" (p. 3 I I), of a " self-deception \vhich has beconle a sort of frantic honesty" (p. 29ï). .And as to his fl1ndanlcntal reason for this change, he tells us, he really does not know what it is (p. 3L})" IIowever, let the rcason be ,,-hat it ,viII, its upshot is intelligible enough. 1 Ie is enabled at once, by this professed change of judglnent about Ine, to put fOr\\'ard one of these alternatives, yet to keep the other in reserve;- and this he actually does. I-Ie need not cot1unit hill1self to a dcfinitc accusation against Ine, such as requires definite proof anù adnlits of definite refutation; for he has Ì\vo strings to his bow ;-\vhen he is thro\vn off his balance on the one leg, he can recover hilllself by the use of the other. If I dcnlonstrate that I aln not a kna,'c, he 11lay excIainl, .. Oh, but you are a fool!" and \\ hen I dClnonstrate that I an1 not a fool, he l11ay turn l )UIH.l and r tort, ,. \Ydl, thcn, you are a knavc." I have no ohjection to reply to his argulncnts in behalf of ither altcrnati\"e, but I should have been bettcr pleased to have been allowed to take thell1 one at a tinle. But I have not yet done full justice to the Inethod of disputation, which 1\1r. Kingsley thinks it right to adopt. Obscr\Yc this first: - lie l11eans by a l11an who is " silly" not a tnan ,,"ho is to be pitied, hut a tnan who is to be 1 The paging.:) have been adjusted to the present editiun. Thc referencl' l.Ie tu our Vvl. ii., wherc the paml,hlet i rC}'Jinted.-I:n. . 6 APOLOGIA PRO VIT.A SUA. ablzorred. He means a nlan ,,"ho is not silnply ,veak and incapable, but a 1110ral leper; a nlan \vho, if not a knave, has every thing bad about hinl except knavery; nay, rather, has together \vith every other \vorst vice, a spice of knavery to boot. .fILS sinlpleton is one \vho has beconle such, in judgnlel1t for his having once been a knave. HiS sinlpleton is not a born fool, but a self- nlade idiot, one \vho has drugged and abused hiInself into a slulllleless depravity; one \vho, \vithout any 111isgiving or renlorse, is guilty of drivelling superstition, of reckless violation of sacred things, of fanatical excesses, of passionate inanities, of un111anly audacious tyranny over the \veak, llleriting the \vrath of fathers and brothers. This is that 111ilder judgnlent, \vhich he seenlS to pride hilnself upon as so lTIuch charity; and, as he expresses it, he "does not know" why. This is \vhat he really lneant in his letter to 1l1e of January I{, \vhen he withdre\v his charge of IllY being dishonest. I-Ic saiù, "The tOJle of your letters, even I110re than their language, nlakes 111e feel, to 1JZY 'l'eJY deeþ PICllSltYC,"--\vhat? that you have ganlbled away your reason, that you are an intellectual sot, that you are a fool in a frenzy. ...\l1d in his Pall1phlet, he gives us this explanation \vhy he did not say this to nlY face-viz., that he had been told that I ,vas" in \veak health," and \vas "averse to controyersy," pp. 277 and 278. He" felt sonle regret for having disturbed 111e." But I pass on from these multiform ill1putations, and confine Jl1yself to this one consideration-viz., that he has Inade any fresh irnputation upon nle at all. lIe gave up the charge of knavery; ""ell and good: but where \vas the logical necessity of his bringing another? I a 111 :\IR. KI GSLEY'S :\IETIIOD OF DISPUTATION. 7 sitting at honle \vithout a thought of NIr. Kingsley; he ".antonly breaks in upon n1e \vith the charge that I had " Ùifo1"1lled" the \vorlJ "that Truth for its o\vn sake need not and on the \vhole ought not to be a virtue \vith the Roman clergy." 'Vhen challenged on the point he cannot bring a fragnlent of evidence in proof of his assertion, and he is convicted of false \vitness by the voice of the \vorld. 'V ell, I should have thought that he had no\v nothing \yhatever Blore to do. "\'ain I1lan !" he seenlS to Blake ans\ver, "what sinlplicity in you to think so! If you have not broken one command- nlent, let us see \vhether \ve cannot convict you of the breach of another. I f you are not a swindler or forger, you are guilty of arson or burglary. By hook or by crook you shall 110t escape. Are )'Olt to suffer or IP 'Vhat does it n1atter to you who are going off the stage, to receive a slight additional daub upon a character so deeply stained already? But think of nle, the irl1rnacu- late lover of Truth, so obscrvant (as I have told you, p. 2ï9) of ' Illlilit courag-c .t.nd strict honour, '-and (as/dc) -' and not as this publican '-do you think I can let you go scot free instcad of nlyself? No; /loblesse ublig-c. Go to the shades, old Inan, and boast that .\chilles sent Y0U thither." But I have not even yet done with Ir K.ingsley's I1lethod of disputation. Obscrve secondly:-when a Ulan is said to be a knave or a fool, it is conllllonly Illeant that he is e//!Jer the one or the other; and that, -either in the sense that the hypothesis of his being a fool is too absurd to be cr1tertained; or, ag-ain, as a sort of cor1ÌelllptUl.HlS aCl.}uiUal of one, who after all has not wit enough to be \Vi kcd. Hut this is not at all s .\POLOGL\ PRO VITA SU.\. \\'hat lr. I,-ingsley proposes to hiIl1self in the antithesis \vhich he suggests to his readers. Though he speaks of nle as an utter dotard and fanatic, yet all along, fr0l11 the beginning of his Panlphlet to the end, he insinuates, he proves fronl Iny ,vritings, and at length in his last pages he openly pronounces, that after all he ,vas right at first, in thinking nle a conscious liar and deceiver. N O\\? I wish to lhvell on this point. ] t cannot be doubted, I say, that, in spite of his professing to consider nle as a dotard and driveller, on the ground of his having- gi\-en up the notion of In}" being a knave, yet it is the yery staple of his Pamphlet that a knave after all I J11ust be. By insinuation, or by implication, or by question, or by irony, or by sneer, or by parable, he enforces again and again a conclusion \yhich he does not categorically enunciate. For-instance (I) P. 286. "I kno\v that nlen used to SllSþcct Dr. l\T{;''Z(,l//zan, I have been inclined to do so nlY- self, of ,,-riting a ,,,hole sernlon. . . . . . for the sake of one single passing hint, one phrase, one epithet, one little barbed arro\v which. . . . . . he delivered un- heeded, as with his finger tip, to the '"ery heart of an initiated hearer, nC'i.'cr 10 be ,;('illzdra'ZfJll agaÙz." ( ) P. 28ï. "lIo\\" 'it'as I to kno\v that the preacher, who had the reputation of being the nlost acute 11lan of his generation, and of having a special1y intinlate acquaintance ,,-ith the weaknesses of the hUlnan heart, ""as utterly blind to the broad Il1eaning and the plain practical result of a sernlon like this, delivered before fanatic and hot-headed young men. who hung upon his e\-ery \\'ord? That he did not .forcsl'c that 1 hey \yotdd think that they obeyed hinl, by bcco1Jling- aill'cted, IR. KIKGSLEY':-; IETIIOD OF DISPUTATION. 9 artijzèial, s()', shift.J', rcad)' for concealJJzents and cqltlVOCa- tÚJ11S ?" (3) P. 28 9. "Noone 'i.ool/ld Ila'(!e suspected hin1 to be a dishonest nlan, if he had not perversely chosen to aSSllllle a st.)'lc ,vhich (as he himself confesse<;) the \\?orld al ways associates ,vith dishonesty." . ({) P. 300. "If he ,,,ill indulge in subtle para- doxes, in rhetorical exaggerations; if, 'i.l'IZCllC'i!er ILC touches Oil tile question of trutlt llnd 11Ollesl)', he \vill take a perverse pleasure in saying sOlnething shocking to plain English notions, he 1111iS! take the consequences or Ius 07fJJl eccCllÜ'z"Cllics." (5) P. 3o-t-. " At ,,"hich n10st of In}" readers ,vill be inclined to cry: 'Let Dr. N e\V111an alone, after that. . . . . . lIe had a hUlnan reason once, no doubt: but he has galnbled it a \Yay.' . . . . . True: so true, etc." (6) P. 30-t-. lIe continues: "I should ne\-er ha\-e \vritten these pages, save because it \\?as In}" duty to show the \vorId, if not Dr. N e\VInan, ho\v the lnistake (!) of his 110t caring for truth arosc. " (i) P. 3 0 j. " And this is the nlan, who \\'hen accused of countcnancing falsehood, puts on first a tone of Plaintive (!)