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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/24574-8.txt b/24574-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..27e45ee --- /dev/null +++ b/24574-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12348 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Loss and Gain, by John Henry Newman + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Loss and Gain + The Story of a Convert + +Author: John Henry Newman + +Release Date: February 11, 2008 [EBook #24574] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOSS AND GAIN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Pilar Somoza Fernández and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian +Libraries) + + + + + + + + + +LOSS AND GAIN: +THE STORY OF A CONVERT. + + +BY +JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, +OF THE ORATORY. + + +ADHUC MODICUM ALIQUANTULUM, +QUI VENTURUS EST, VENIET, ET NON TARDABIT. +JUSTUS AUTEM MEUS EX FIDE VIVIT. + + +Eighth Edition. + + +LONDON: BURNS AND OATES. +1881. + + + + +TO THE VERY REV. +CHARLES W. RUSSELL, D.D., +PRESIDENT OF ST. PATRICK'S COLLEGE, MAYNOOTH, +&c. &c. + + +My dear Dr. Russell,--Now that at length I take the step of printing my +name in the Title-Page of this Volume, I trust I shall not be +encroaching on the kindness you have so long shown to me, if I venture +to follow it up by placing yours in the page which comes next, thus +associating myself with you, and recommending myself to my readers by +the association. + +Not that I am dreaming of bringing down upon you, in whole or part, the +criticisms, just or unjust, which lie against a literary attempt which +has in some quarters been thought out of keeping with my antecedents and +my position; but the warm and sympathetic interest which you took in +Oxford matters thirty years ago, and the benefits which I derived +personally from that interest, are reasons why I am desirous of +prefixing your name to a Tale, which, whatever its faults, at least is a +more intelligible and exact representation of the thoughts, sentiments, +and aspirations, then and there prevailing, than was to be found in the +anti-Catholic pamphlets, charges, sermons, reviews, and story-books of +the day. + +These reasons, too, must be my apology, should I seem to be asking your +acceptance of a Volume, which, over and above its intrinsic defects, is, +in its very subject and style, hardly commensurate with the theological +reputation and the ecclesiastical station of the person to whom it is +presented. + + I am, my dear Dr. Russell, + + Your affectionate friend, + + JOHN H. NEWMAN. + +THE ORATORY, _Feb. 21, 1874_. + + + + +ADVERTISEMENT. + + +The following tale is not intended as a work of controversy in behalf of +the Catholic Religion; but as a description of what is understood by +few, viz. the course of thought and state of mind,--or rather one such +course and state,--which issues in conviction of its Divine origin. + +Nor is it founded on fact, to use the common phrase. It is not the +history of any individual mind among the recent converts to the Catholic +Church. The principal characters are imaginary; and the writer wishes to +disclaim personal allusion in any. It is with this view that he has +feigned ecclesiastical bodies and places, to avoid the chance, which +might otherwise occur, of unintentionally suggesting to the reader real +individuals, who were far from his thoughts. + +At the same time, free use has been made of sayings and doings which +were characteristic of the time and place in which the scene is laid. +And, moreover, when, as in a tale, a general truth or fact is exhibited +in individual specimens of it, it is impossible that the ideal +representation should not more or less coincide, in spite of the +author's endeavour, or even without his recognition, with its existing +instances or champions. + +It must also be added, to prevent a farther misconception, that no +proper representative is intended in this tale, of the religious +opinions which had lately so much influence in the University of Oxford. + +_Feb. 21, 1848._ + + + + +ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SIXTH EDITION. + + +A tale, directed against the Oxford converts to the Catholic Faith, was +sent from England to the author of this Volume in the summer of 1847, +when he was resident at Santa Croce in Rome. Its contents were as +wantonly and preposterously fanciful, as they were injurious to those +whose motives and actions it professed to represent; but a formal +criticism or grave notice of it seemed to him out of place. + +The suitable answer lay rather in the publication of a second tale; +drawn up with a stricter regard to truth and probability, and with at +least some personal knowledge of Oxford, and some perception of the +various aspects of the religious phenomenon, which the work in question +handled so rudely and so unskilfully. + +Especially was he desirous of dissipating the fog of pomposity and +solemn pretence, which its writer had thrown around the personages +introduced into it, by showing, as in a specimen, that those who were +smitten with love of the Catholic Church, were nevertheless as able to +write common-sense prose as other men. + +Under these circumstances "Loss and Gain" was given to the public. + +_Feb. 21, 1874._ + + + + +LOSS AND GAIN. + + + + +Part I. + +CHAPTER I. + + +Charles Reding was the only son of a clergyman, who was in possession of +a valuable benefice in a midland county. His father intended him for +orders, and sent him at a proper age to a public school. He had long +revolved in his mind the respective advantages and disadvantages of +public and private education, and had decided in favour of the former. +"Seclusion," he said, "is no security for virtue. There is no telling +what is in a boy's heart: he may look as open and happy as usual, and be +as kind and attentive, when there is a great deal wrong going on within. +The heart is a secret with its Maker; no one on earth can hope to get at +it or to touch it. I have a cure of souls; what do I really know of my +parishioners? Nothing; their hearts are sealed books to me. And this +dear boy, he comes close to me; he throws his arms round me, but his +soul is as much out of my sight as if he were at the antipodes. I am +not accusing him of reserve, dear fellow: his very love and reverence +for me keep him in a sort of charmed solitude. I cannot expect to get at +the bottom of him. + + 'Each in his hidden sphere of bliss or woe, + Our hermit spirits dwell.' + +It is our lot here below. No one on earth can know Charles's secret +thoughts. Did I guard him here at home ever so well, yet, in due time, +it would be found that a serpent had crept into the heart of his +innocence. Boys do not fully know what is good and what is evil; they do +wrong things at first almost innocently. Novelty hides vice from them; +there is no one to warn them or give them rules; and they become slaves +of sin, while they are learning what sin is. They go to the University, +and suddenly plunge into excesses, the greater in proportion to their +inexperience. And, besides all this, I am not equal to the task of +forming so active and inquisitive a mind as his. He already asks +questions which I know not how to answer. So he shall go to a public +school. There he will get discipline at least, even if he has more of +trial: at least he will gain habits of self-command, manliness, and +circumspection; he will learn to use his eyes, and will find materials +to use them upon; and thus will be gradually trained for the liberty +which, any how, he must have when he goes to college." + +This was the more necessary, because, with many high excellences, +Charles was naturally timid and retiring, over-sensitive, and, though +lively and cheerful, yet not without a tinge of melancholy in his +character, which sometimes degenerated into mawkishness. + +To Eton, then, he went; and there had the good fortune to fall into the +hands of an excellent tutor, who, while he instructed him in the old +Church-of-England principles of Mant and Doyley, gave his mind a +religious impression, which secured him against the allurements of bad +company, whether at the school itself, or afterwards at Oxford. To that +celebrated seat of learning he was in due time transferred, being +entered at St. Saviour's College; and he is in his sixth term from +matriculation, and his fourth of residence, at the time our story opens. + +At Oxford, it is needless to say, he had found a great number of his +schoolfellows, but, it so happened, had found very few friends among +them. Some were too gay for him, and he had avoided them; others, with +whom he had been intimate at Eton, having high connections, had fairly +cut him on coming into residence, or, being entered at other colleges, +had lost sight of him. Almost everything depends at Oxford, in the +matter of acquaintance, on proximity of rooms. You choose your friend, +not so much by your tastes, as by your staircase. There is a story of a +London tradesman who lost custom after beautifying his premises, because +his entrance went up a step; and we all know how great is the difference +between open and shut doors when we walk along a street of shops. In a +university a youth's hours are portioned out to him. A regular man gets +up and goes to chapel, breakfasts, gets up his lectures, goes to +lecture, walks, dines; there is little to induce him to mount any +staircase but his own; and if he does so, ten to one he finds the friend +from home whom he is seeking; not to say that freshmen, who naturally +have common feelings and interests, as naturally are allotted a +staircase in common. And thus it was that Charles Reding was brought +across William Sheffield, who had come into residence the same term as +himself. + +The minds of young people are pliable and elastic, and easily +accommodate themselves to any one they fall in with. They find grounds +of attraction both where they agree with one another and where they +differ; what is congenial to themselves creates sympathy; what is +correlative, or supplemental, creates admiration and esteem. And what is +thus begun is often continued in after-life by the force of habit and +the claims of memory. Thus, in the choice of friends, chance often does +for us as much as the most careful selection could have effected. What +was the character and degree of that friendship which sprang up between +the freshmen Reding and Sheffield, we need not here minutely explain: it +will be enough to say, that what they had in common was freshmanship, +good talents, and the back staircase; and that they differed in +this--that Sheffield had lived a good deal with people older than +himself, had read much in a desultory way, and easily picked up opinions +and facts, especially on controversies of the day, without laying +anything very much to heart; that he was ready, clear-sighted, +unembarrassed, and somewhat forward: Charles, on the other hand, had +little knowledge as yet of principles or their bearings, but understood +more deeply than Sheffield, and held more practically, what he had once +received; he was gentle and affectionate, and easily led by others, +except when duty clearly interfered. It should be added, that he had +fallen in with various religious denominations in his father's parish, +and had a general, though not a systematic, knowledge of their tenets. +What they were besides, will be seen as our narrative advances. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +It was a little past one P.M. when Sheffield, passing Charles's door, +saw it open. The college servant had just entered with the usual +half-commons for luncheon, and was employed in making up the fire. +Sheffield followed him in, and found Charles in his cap and gown, +lounging on the arm of his easy-chair, and eating his bread and cheese. +Sheffield asked him if he slept, as well as ate and drank, "accoutred as +he was." + +"I am just going for a turn into the meadow," said Charles; "this is to +me the best time of the year: _nunc formosissimus annus_; everything is +beautiful; the laburnums are out, and the may. There is a greater +variety of trees there than in any other place I know hereabouts; and +the planes are so touching just now, with their small multitudinous +green hands half-opened; and there are two or three such fine dark +willows stretching over the Cherwell; I think some dryad inhabits them: +and, as you wind along, just over your right shoulder is the Long Walk, +with the Oxford buildings seen between the elms. They say there are dons +here who recollect when the foliage was unbroken, nay, when you might +walk under it in hard rain, and get no wet. I know I got drenched there +the other day." + +Sheffield laughed, and said that Charles must put on his beaver, and +walk with him a different way. He wanted a good walk; his head was +stupid from his lectures; that old Jennings prosed so awfully upon +Paley, it made him quite ill. He had talked of the Apostles as neither +"deceivers nor deceived," of their "sensible miracles," and of their +"dying for their testimony," till he did not know whether he himself was +an _ens physiologicum_ or a _totum metaphysicum_, when Jennings had +cruelly asked him to repeat Paley's argument; and because he had not +given it in Jennings' words, friend Jennings had pursed up his lips, and +gone through the whole again; so intent, in his wooden enthusiasm, on +his own analysis of it, that he did not hear the clock strike the hour; +and, in spite of the men's shuffling their feet, blowing their noses, +and looking at their watches, on he had gone for a good twenty minutes +past the time; and would have been going on even then, he verily +believed, but for an interposition only equalled by that of the geese at +the Capitol. For that, when he had got about half through his +recapitulation, and was stopping at the end of a sentence to see the +impression he was making, that uncouth fellow, Lively, moved by what +happy inspiration he did not know, suddenly broke in, apropos of +nothing, nodding his head, and speaking in a clear cackle, with, "Pray, +sir, what is your opinion of the infallibility of the Pope?" Upon which +every one but Jennings did laugh out: but he, _au contraire_, began to +look very black; and no one can tell what would have happened, had he +not cast his eyes by accident on his watch, on which he coloured, closed +his book, and _instanter_ sent the whole lecture out of the room. + +Charles laughed in his turn, but added, "Yet, I assure you, Sheffield, +that Jennings, stiff and cold as he seems, is, I do believe, a very good +fellow at bottom. He has before now spoken to me with a good deal of +feeling, and has gone out of his way to do me favours. I see poor bodies +coming to him for charity continually; and they say that his sermons at +Holy Cross are excellent." + +Sheffield said he liked people to be natural, and hated that donnish +manner. What good could it do? and what did it mean? + +"That is what I call bigotry," answered Charles; "I am for taking every +one for what he is, and not for what he is not: one has this excellence, +another that; no one is everything. Why should we not drop what we don't +like, and admire what we like? This is the only way of getting through +life, the only true wisdom, and surely our duty into the bargain." + +Sheffield thought this regular prose, and unreal. "We must," he said, +"have a standard of things, else one good thing is as good as another. +But I can't stand here all day," he continued, "when we ought to be +walking." And he took off Charles's cap, and, placing his hat on him +instead, said, "Come, let us be going." + +"Then must I give up my meadow?" said Charles. + +"Of course you must," answered Sheffield; "you must take a beaver walk. +I want you to go as far as Oxley, a village some little way out, all +the vicars of which, sooner or later, are made bishops. Perhaps even +walking there may do us some good." + +The friends set out, from hat to boot in the most approved Oxford +bandbox-cut of trimness and prettiness. Sheffield was turning into the +High Street, when Reding stopped him: "It always annoys me," he said, +"to go down High Street in a beaver; one is sure to meet a proctor." + +"All those University dresses are great fudge," answered Sheffield; "how +are we the better for them? They are mere outside, and nothing else. +Besides, our gown is so hideously ugly." + +"Well, I don't go along with your sweeping condemnation," answered +Charles; "this is a great place, and should have a dress. I declare, +when I first saw the procession of Heads at St. Mary's, it was quite +moving. First----" + +"Of course the pokers," interrupted Sheffield. + +"First the organ, and every one rising; then the Vice-Chancellor in red, +and his bow to the preacher, who turns to the pulpit; then all the Heads +in order; and lastly the Proctors. Meanwhile, you see the head of the +preacher slowly mounting up the steps; when he gets in, he shuts-to the +door, looks at the organ-loft to catch the psalm, and the voices strike +up." + +Sheffield laughed, and then said, "Well, I confess I agree with you in +your instance. The preacher is, or is supposed to be, a person of +talent; he is about to hold forth; the divines, the students of a great +University, are all there to listen. The pageant does but fitly +represent the great moral fact which is before us; I understand _this_. +I don't call _this_ fudge; what I mean by fudge is, outside without +inside. Now I must say, the sermon itself, and not the least of all the +prayer before it--what do they call it?" + +"The bidding prayer," said Reding. + +"Well, both sermon and prayer are often arrant fudge. I don't often go +to University sermons, but I have gone often enough not to go again +without compulsion. The last preacher I heard was from the country. Oh, +it was wonderful! He began at the pitch of his voice, 'Ye shall pray.' +What stuff! 'Ye shall _pray_;' because old Latimer or Jewell said, 'Ye +shall praie,' therefore we must not say, 'Let us pray.' Presently he +brought out," continued Sheffield, assuming a pompous and up-and-down +tone, "'especially for that pure and apostolic branch of it +_established_,'--here the man rose on his toes, '_established_ in these +dominions.' Next came, 'for our Sovereign Lady Victoria, Queen, Defender +of the Faith, in all causes and over all persons, ecclesiastical as well +as civil, within these her dominions, _supreme_'--an awful pause, with +an audible fall of the sermon-case on the cushion; as though nature did +not contain, as if the human mind could not sustain, a bigger thought. +Then followed, 'the pious and munificent founder,' in the same twang, +'of All Saints' and Leicester Colleges,' But his _chef-d'oeuvre_ was +his emphatic recognition of '_all_ the doctors, _both_ the proctors', as +if the numerical antithesis had a graphic power, and threw those +excellent personages into a charming _tableau vivant_." + +Charles was amused at all this; but he said in answer, that he never +heard a sermon but it was his own fault if he did not gain good from it; +and he quoted the words of his father, who, when he one day asked him if +so-and-so had not preached a very good sermon, "My dear Charles," his +father had said, "all sermons are good." The words, simple as they were, +had retained a hold on his memory. + +Meanwhile, they had proceeded down the forbidden High Street, and were +crossing the bridge, when, on the opposite side, they saw before them a +tall, upright man, whom Sheffield had no difficulty in recognizing as a +bachelor of Nun's Hall, and a bore at least of the second magnitude. He +was in cap and gown, but went on his way, as if intending, in that +extraordinary guise, to take a country walk. He took the path which they +were going themselves, and they tried to keep behind him; but they +walked too briskly, and he too leisurely, to allow of that. It is very +difficult duly to delineate a bore in a narrative, for the very reason +that he _is_ a bore. A tale must aim at condensation, but a bore acts in +solution. It is only on the long-run that he is ascertained. Then, +indeed, he is _felt_; he is oppressive; like the sirocco, which the +native detects at once, while a foreigner is often at fault. _Tenet +occiditque._ Did you hear him make but one speech, perhaps you would say +he was a pleasant, well-informed man; but when he never comes to an end, +or has one and the same prose every time you meet him, or keeps you +standing till you are fit to sink, or holds you fast when you wish to +keep an engagement, or hinders you listening to important +conversation,--then there is no mistake, the truth bursts on you, +_apparent dirĉ facies_, you are in the clutches of a bore. You may +yield, or you may flee; you cannot conquer. Hence it is clear that a +bore cannot be represented in a story, or the story would be the bore as +much as he. The reader, then, must believe this upright Mr. Bateman to +be what otherwise he might not discover, and thank us for our +consideration in not proving as well as asserting it. + +Sheffield bowed to him courteously, and would have proceeded on his way; +but Bateman, as became his nature, would not suffer it; he seized him. +"Are you disposed," he said, "to look into the pretty chapel we are +restoring on the common? It is quite a gem--in the purest style of the +fourteenth century. It was in a most filthy condition, a mere cow-house; +but we have made a subscription, and set it to rights." + +"We are bound for Oxley," Sheffield answered; "you would be taking us +out of our way." + +"Not a bit of it," said Bateman; "it's not a stone's throw from the +road; you must not refuse me. I'm sure you'll like it." + +He proceeded to give the history of the chapel--all it had been, all it +might have been, all it was not, all it was to be. + +"It is to be a real specimen of a Catholic chapel," he said; "we mean to +make the attempt of getting the Bishop to dedicate it to the Royal +Martyr--why should not we have our St. Charles as well as the +Romanists?--and it will be quite sweet to hear the vesper-bell tolling +over the sullen moor every evening, in all weathers, and amid all the +changes and chances of this mortal life." + +Sheffield asked what congregation they expected to collect at that hour. + +"That's a low view," answered Bateman; "it does not signify at all. In +real Catholic churches the number of the congregation is nothing to the +purpose; service is for those who come, not for those who stay away." + +"Well," said Sheffield, "I understand what that means when a Roman +Catholic says it; for a priest is supposed to offer sacrifice, which he +can do without a congregation as well as with one. And, again, Catholic +chapels often stand over the bodies of martyrs, or on some place of +miracle, as a record; but our service is 'Common Prayer,' and how can +you have that without a congregation?" + +Bateman replied that, even if members of the University did not drop in, +which he expected, at least the bell would be a memento far and near. + +"Ah, I see," retorted Sheffield, "the use will be the reverse of what +you said just now; it is not for those that come, but for those who stay +away. The congregation is outside, not inside; it's an outside concern. +I once saw a tall church-tower--so it appeared from the road; but on the +sides you saw it was but a thin wall, made to look like a tower, in +order to give the church an imposing effect. Do run up such a bit of a +wall, and put the bell in it." + +"There's another reason," answered Bateman, "for restoring the chapel, +quite independent of the service. It has been a chapel from time +immemorial, and was consecrated by our Catholic forefathers." + +Sheffield argued that this would be as good a reason for keeping up the +Mass as for keeping up the chapel. + +"We do keep up the Mass," said Bateman; "we offer our Mass every Sunday, +according to the rite of the English Cyprian, as honest Peter Heylin +calls him; what would you have more?" + +Whether Sheffield understood this or no, at least it was beyond Charles. +Was the Common Prayer the English Mass, or the Communion-service, or the +Litany, or the sermon, or any part of these? or were Bateman's words +really a confession that there were clergymen who actually said the +Popish Mass once a week? Bateman's precise meaning, however, is lost to +posterity; for they had by this time arrived at the door of the chapel. +It had once been the chapel of an almshouse; a small farmhouse stood +near; but, for population, it was plain no "church accommodation" was +wanted. Before entering, Charles hung back, and whispered to his friend +that he did not know Bateman. An introduction, in consequence, took +place. "Reding of St. Saviour's--Bateman of Nun's Hall;" after which +ceremony, in place of holy water, they managed to enter the chapel in +company. + +It was as pretty a building as Bateman had led them to expect, and very +prettily done up. There was a stone altar in the best style, a credence +table, a piscina, what looked like a tabernacle, and a couple of +handsome brass candlesticks. Charles asked the use of the piscina--he +did not know its name--and was told that there was always a piscina in +the old churches in England, and that there could be no proper +restoration without it. Next he asked the meaning of the beautifully +wrought closet or recess above the altar; and received for answer, that +"our sister churches of the Roman obedience always had a tabernacle for +reserving the consecrated bread." Here Charles was brought to a stand: +on which Sheffield asked the use of the niches; and was told by Bateman +that images of saints were forbidden by the canon, but that his friends, +in all these matters, did what they could. Lastly, he asked the meaning +of the candlesticks; and was told that, Catholicly-minded as their +Bishop was, they had some fear lest he would object to altar lights in +service--at least at first: but it was plain that the _use_ of the +candlesticks was to hold candles. Having had their fill of gazing and +admiring, they turned to proceed on their walk, but could not get off an +invitation to breakfast, in a few days, at Bateman's lodgings in the +Turl. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Neither of the friends had what are called _views_ in religion; by which +expression we do not here signify that neither had taken up a certain +line of opinion, though this was the case also; but that neither of +them--how could they at their age?--had placed his religion on an +intellectual basis. It may be as well to state more distinctly what a +"view" is, what it is to be "viewy," and what is the state of those who +have no "views." When, then; men for the first time look upon the world +of politics or religion, all that they find there meets their mind's eye +as a landscape addresses itself for the first time to a person who has +just gained his bodily sight. One thing is as far off as another; there +is no perspective. The connection of fact with fact, truth with truth, +the bearing of fact upon truth, and truth upon fact, what leads to what, +what are points primary and what secondary,--all this they have yet to +learn. It is all a new science to them, and they do not even know their +ignorance of it. Moreover, the world of to-day has no connection in +their minds with the world of yesterday; time is not a stream, but +stands before them round and full, like the moon. They do not know what +happened ten years ago, much less the annals of a century; the past does +not live to them in the present; they do not understand the worth of +contested points; names have no associations for them, and persons +kindle no recollections. They hear of men, and things, and projects, and +struggles, and principles; but everything comes and goes like the wind, +nothing makes an impression, nothing penetrates, nothing has its place +in their minds. They locate nothing; they have no system. They hear and +they forget; or they just recollect what they have once heard, they +can't tell where. Thus they have no consistency in their arguments; that +is, they argue one way to-day, and not exactly the other way to-morrow, +but indirectly the other way, at random. Their lines of argument +diverge; nothing comes to a point; there is no one centre in which their +mind sits, on which their judgment of men and things proceeds. This is +the state of many men all through life; and miserable politicians or +Churchmen they make, unless by good luck they are in safe hands, and +ruled by others, or are pledged to a course. Else they are at the mercy +of the winds and waves; and, without being Radical, Whig, Tory, or +Conservative, High Church or Low Church, they do Whig acts, Tory acts, +Catholic acts, and heretical acts, as the fit takes them, or as events +or parties drive them. And sometimes, when their self-importance is +hurt, they take refuge in the idea that all this is a proof that they +are unfettered, moderate, dispassionate, that they observe the mean, +that they are "no party men;" when they are, in fact, the most helpless +of slaves; for our strength in this world is, to be the subjects of the +reason, and our liberty, to be captives of the truth. + +Now Charles Reding, a youth of twenty, could not be supposed to have +much of a view in religion or politics; but no clever man allows himself +to judge of things simply at hap-hazard; he is obliged, from a sort of +self-respect, to have some rule or other, true or false; and Charles was +very fond of the maxim, which he has already enunciated, that we must +measure people by what they are, and not by what they are not. He had a +great notion of loving every one--of looking kindly on every one; he was +pierced with the sentiment which he had seen in a popular volume of +poetry, that-- + + "Christian souls, ... + Though worn and soil'd with sinful clay, + Are yet, to eyes that see them true, + All glistening with baptismal dew." + +He liked, as he walked along the road, and met labourer or horseman, +gentleman or beggar, to say to himself, "He is a Christian." And when he +came to Oxford, he came there with an enthusiasm so simple and warm as +to be almost childish. He reverenced even the velvet of the Pro.; nay, +the cocked hat which preceded the Preacher had its claim on his +deferential regard. Without being himself a poet, he was in the season +of poetry, in the sweet spring-time, when the year is most beautiful, +because it is new. Novelty was beauty to a heart so open and cheerful as +his; not only because it was novelty, and had its proper charm as such, +but because when we first see things, we see them in a "gay confusion," +which is a principal element of the poetical. As time goes on, and we +number and sort and measure things--as we gain views--we advance towards +philosophy and truth, but we recede from poetry. + +When we ourselves were young, we once on a time walked on a hot +summer-day from Oxford to Newington--a dull road, as any one who has +gone it knows; yet it was new to us; and we protest to you, reader, +believe it or not, laugh or not, as you will, to us it seemed on that +occasion quite touchingly beautiful; and a soft melancholy came over us, +of which the shadows fall even now, when we look back on that dusty, +weary journey. And why? because every object which met us was unknown +and full of mystery. A tree or two in the distance seemed the beginning +of a great wood, or park, stretching endlessly; a hill implied a vale +beyond, with that vale's history; the bye-lanes, with their green +hedges, wound and vanished, yet were not lost to the imagination. Such +was our first journey; but when we had gone it several times, the mind +refused to act, the scene ceased to enchant, stern reality alone +remained; and we thought it one of the most tiresome, odious roads we +ever had occasion to traverse. + +But to return to our story. Such was Reding. But Sheffield, on the other +hand, without possessing any real view of things more than Charles, was, +at this time, fonder of hunting for views, and more in danger of taking +up false ones. That is, he was "viewy," in a bad sense of the word. He +was not satisfied intellectually with things as they are; he was +critical, impatient to reduce things to system, pushed principles too +far, was fond of argument, partly from pleasure in the exercise, partly +because he was perplexed, though he did not lay anything very much to +heart. + +They neither of them felt any special interest in the controversy going +on in the University and country about High and Low Church. Sheffield +had a sort of contempt for it; and Reding felt it to be bad taste to be +unusual or prominent in anything. An Eton acquaintance had asked him to +go and hear one of the principal preachers of the Catholic party, and +offered to introduce him; but he had declined it. He did not like, he +said, mixing himself up with party; he had come to Oxford to get his +degree, and not to take up opinions; he thought his father would not +relish it; and, moreover, he felt some little repugnance to such +opinions and such people, under the notion that the authorities of the +University were opposed to the whole movement. He could not help looking +at its leaders as demagogues; and towards demagogues he felt an +unmeasured aversion and contempt. He did not see why clergymen, however +respectable, should be collecting undergraduates about them; and he +heard stories of their way of going on which did not please him. +Moreover, he did not like the specimens of their followers whom he fell +in with; they were forward, or they "talked strong," as it was called; +did ridiculous, extravagant acts; and sometimes neglected their college +duties for things which did not concern them. He was unfortunate, +certainly: for this is a very unfair account of the most exemplary men +of that day, who doubtless are still, as clergymen or laymen, the +strength of the Anglican Church; but in all collections of men, the +straw and rubbish (as Lord Bacon says) float on the top, while gold and +jewels sink and are hidden. Or, what is more apposite still, many men, +or most men, are a compound of precious and worthless together, and +their worthless swims, and their precious lies at the bottom. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Bateman was one of these composite characters: he had much good and much +cleverness in him; but he was absurd, and he afforded a subject of +conversation to the two friends as they proceeded on their walk. "I wish +there was less of fudge and humbug everywhere," said Sheffield; "one +might shovel off cartloads from this place, and not miss it." + +"If you had your way," answered Charles, "you would scrape off the roads +till there was nothing to walk on. We are forced to walk on what you +call humbug; we put it under our feet, but we use it." + +"I cannot think that; it's like doing evil that good may come. I see +shams everywhere. I go into St. Mary's, and I hear men spouting out +commonplaces in a deep or a shrill voice, or with slow, clear, quiet +emphasis and significant eyes--as that Bampton preacher not long ago, +who assured us, apropos of the resurrection of the body, that 'all +attempts to resuscitate the inanimate corpse by natural methods had +hitherto been experimentally abortive.' I go into the place where +degrees are given--the Convocation, I think--and there one hears a deal +of unmeaning Latin for hours, graces, dispensations, and proctors +walking up and down for nothing; all in order to keep up a sort of ghost +of things passed away for centuries, while the real work might be done +in a quarter of an hour. I fall in with this Bateman, and he talks to me +of rood-lofts without roods, and piscinĉ without water, and niches +without images, and candlesticks without lights, and masses without +Popery; till I feel, with Shakespeare, that 'all the world's a stage.' +Well, I go to Shaw, Turner, and Brown, very different men, pupils of Dr. +Gloucester--you know whom I mean--and they tell us that we ought to put +up crucifixes by the wayside, in order to excite religious feeling." + +"Well, I really think you are hard on all these people," said Charles; +"it is all very much like declamation; you would destroy externals of +every kind. You are like the man in one of Miss Edgeworth's novels, who +shut his ears to the music that he might laugh at the dancers." + +"What is the music to which I close my ears?" asked Sheffield. + +"To the meaning of those various acts," answered Charles; "the pious +feeling which accompanies the sight of the image is the music." + +"To those who have the pious feeling, certainly," said Sheffield; "but +to put up images in England in order to create the feeling is like +dancing to create music." + +"I think you are hard upon England," replied Charles; "we are a +religious people." + +"Well, I will put it differently: do _you_ like music?" + +"You ought to know," said Charles, "whom I have frightened so often with +my fiddle." + +"Do you like dancing?" + +"To tell the truth," said Charles, "I don't." + +"Nor do I," said Sheffield; "it makes me laugh to think what I have +done, when a boy, to escape dancing; there is something so absurd in it; +and one had to be civil and to duck to young girls who were either prim +or pert. I have behaved quite rudely to them sometimes, and then have +been annoyed at my ungentlemanlikeness, and not known how to get out of +the scrape." + +"Well, I didn't know we were so like each other in anything," said +Charles; "oh, the misery I have endured, in having to stand up to dance, +and to walk about with a partner!--everybody looking at me, and I so +awkward. It has been a torture to me days before and after." + +They had by this time come up to the foot of the rough rising ground +which leads to the sort of table-land on the edge of which Oxley is +placed; and they stood still awhile to see some equestrians take the +hurdles. They then mounted the hill, and looked back upon Oxford. + +"Perhaps you call those beautiful spires and towers a sham," said +Charles, "because you see their tops and not their bottoms?" + +"Whereabouts were we in our argument?" said the other, reminded that +they had been wandering from it for the last ten minutes. "Oh, I +recollect; I know what I was at. I was saying that you liked music, but +didn't like dancing; music leads another person to dance, but not you; +and dancing does not increase but diminishes the intensity of the +pleasure you find in music. In like manner, it is a mere piece of +pedantry to make a religious nation, like the English, more religious by +placing images in the streets; this is not the English way, and only +offends us. If it were our way, it would come naturally without any one +telling us. As music incites to dancing, so religion would lead to +images; but as dancing does not improve music to those who do not like +dancing, so ceremonies do not improve religion to those who do not like +ceremonies." + +"Then do you mean," said Charles, "that the English Romanists are shams, +because they use crucifixes?" + +"Stop there," said Sheffield; "now you are getting upon a different +subject. They believe that there is _virtue_ in images; that indeed is +absurd in them, but it makes them quite consistent in honouring them. +They do not put up images as outward shows, merely to create feelings in +the minds of beholders, as Gloucester would do, but they in good, +downright earnest worship images, as being more than they seem, as being +not a mere outside show. They pay them a religious worship, as having +been handled by great saints years ago, as having been used in +pestilences, as having wrought miracles, as having moved their eyes or +bowed their heads; or, at least, as having been blessed by the priest, +and been brought into connection with invisible grace. This is +superstitious, but it is real." + +Charles was not satisfied. "An image is a mode of teaching," he said; +"do you mean to say that a person is a sham merely because he mistakes +the particular mode of teaching best suited to his own country?" + +"I did not say that Dr. Gloucester was a sham," answered Sheffield; "but +that mode of teaching of his was among Protestants a sham and a humbug." + +"But this principle will carry you too far, and destroy itself," said +Charles. "Don't you recollect what Thompson quoted the other day out of +Aristotle, which he had lately begun in lecture with Vincent, and which +we thought so acute--that habits are created by those very acts in which +they manifest themselves when created? We learn to swim well by trying +to swim. Now Bateman, doubtless, wishes to _introduce_ piscinĉ and +tabernacles; and to wait, before beginning, _till_ they are received, is +like not going into the water till you can swim." + +"Well, but what is Bateman the better when his piscinĉ are universal?" +asked Sheffield; "what does it _mean_? In the Romish Church it has a +use, I know--I don't know what--but it comes into the Mass. But if +Bateman makes piscinĉ universal among us, what has he achieved but the +reign of a universal humbug?" + +"But, my dear Sheffield," answered Reding, "consider how many things +there are which, in the course of time, have altered their original +meaning, and yet have a meaning, though a changed one, still. The +judge's wig is no sham, yet it has a history. The Queen, at her +coronation, is said to wear a Roman Catholic vestment, is that a sham? +Does it not still typify and impress upon us the 'divinity that doth +hedge a king,' though it has lost the very meaning which the Church of +Rome gave it? Or are you of the number of those, who, according to the +witticism, think majesty, when deprived of its externals, a jest?" + +"Then you defend the introduction of unmeaning piscinĉ and +candlesticks?" + +"I think," answered Charles, "that there's a great difference between +reviving and retaining; it may be natural to retain, even while the use +fails, unnatural to revive when it has failed; but this is a question of +discretion and judgment." + +"Then you give it against Bateman?" said Sheffield. + +A slight pause ensued; then Charles added, "But perhaps these men +actually do wish to introduce the realities as well as the externals: +perhaps they wish to use the piscina as well as to have it ... +Sheffield," he continued abruptly, "why are not canonicals a sham, if +piscinĉ are shams?" + +"Canonicals," said Sheffield, as if thinking about them; "no, canonicals +are no sham; for preaching, I suppose, is the highest ordinance in our +Church, and has the richest dress. The robes of a great preacher cost, I +know, many pounds; for there was one near us who, on leaving, had a +present from the ladies of an entire set, and a dozen pair of worked +slippers into the bargain. But it's all fitting, if preaching is the +great office of the clergy. Next comes the Sacrament, and has the +surplice and hood. And hood," he repeated, musing; "what's that for? no, +it's the scarf. The hood is worn in the University pulpit; what is the +scarf?--it belongs to chaplains, I believe, that is, to _persons_; I +can't make a view out of it." + +"My dear Sheffield," said Charles, "you have cut your own throat. Here +you have been trying to give a sense to the clerical dress, and cannot; +are you then prepared to call it a sham? Answer me this single +question--Why does a clergyman wear a surplice when he reads prayers? +Nay, I will put it more simply--Why can only a clergyman read prayers in +church?--Why cannot I?" + +Sheffield hesitated, and looked serious. "Do you know," he said, "you +have just pitched on Jeremy Bentham's objection. In his 'Church of +Englandism' he proposes, if I recollect rightly, that a parish-boy +should be taught to read the Liturgy; and he asks, Why send a person to +the University for three or four years at an enormous expense, why teach +him Latin and Greek, on purpose to read what any boy could be taught to +read at a dame's school? What is the _virtue_ of a clergyman's reading? +Something of this kind, Bentham says; and," he added, slowly, "to tell +the truth, _I_ don't know how to answer him." + +Reding was surprised, and shocked, and puzzled too; he did not know what +to say; when the conversation was, perhaps fortunately, interrupted. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Every year brings changes and reforms. We do not know what is the state +of Oxley Church now; it may have rood-loft, piscina, sedilia, all new; +or it may be reformed backwards, the seats on principle turning from the +Communion-table, and the pulpit planted in the middle of the aisle; but +at the time when these two young men walked through the churchyard, +there was nothing very good or very bad to attract them within the +building; and they were passing on, when they observed, coming out of +the church, what Sheffield called an elderly don, a fellow of a college, +whom Charles knew. He was a man of family, and had some little property +of his own, had been a contemporary of his father's at the University, +and had from time to time been a guest at the parsonage. Charles had, in +consequence, known him from a boy; and now, since he came into +residence, he had, as was natural, received many small attentions from +him. Once, when he was late for his own hall, he had given him his +dinner in his rooms; he had taken him out on a fishing expedition +towards Faringdon; and had promised him tickets for some ladies, +lionesses of his, who were coming up to the Commemoration. He was a +shrewd, easy-tempered, free-spoken man, of small desires and no +ambition; of no very keen sensibilities or romantic delicacies, and very +little religious pretension; that is, though unexceptionable in his +deportment, he hated the show of religion, and was impatient at those +who affected it. He had known the University for thirty years, and +formed a right estimate of most things in it. He had come out to Oxley +to take a funeral for a friend, and was now returning home. He hallooed +to Charles, who, though feeling at first awkward on finding himself with +two such different friends and in two such different relations, was, +after a time, partially restored to himself by the unconcern of Mr. +Malcolm; and the three walked home together. Yet, even to the last, he +did not quite know how and where to walk, and how to carry himself, +particularly when they got near Oxford, and he fell in with various +parties who greeted him in passing. + +Charles, by way of remark, said they had been looking in at a pretty +little chapel on the common, which was now in the course of repair. Mr. +Malcolm laughed. "So, Charles," he said, "_you're_ bit with the new +fashion." + +Charles coloured, and asked, "What fashion?" adding, that a friend, by +accident, had taken them in. + +"You ask what fashion," said Mr. Malcolm; "why, the newest, latest +fashion. This is a place of fashions; there have been many fashions in +my time. The greater part of the residents, that is, the boys, change +once in three years; the fellows and tutors, perhaps, in half a dozen; +and every generation has its own fashion. There is no principle of +stability in Oxford, except the Heads, and they are always the same, +and always will be the same to the end of the chapter. What is in now," +he asked, "among you youngsters--drinking or cigars?" + +Charles laughed modestly, and said he hoped drinking had gone out +everywhere. + +"Worse things may come in," said Mr. Malcolm; "but there are fashions +everywhere. There was once a spouting club, perhaps it is in favour +still; before it was the music-room. Once geology was all the rage; now +it is theology; soon it will be architecture, or medieval antiquities, +or editions and codices. Each wears out in its turn; all depends on one +or two active men; but the secretary takes a wife, or the professor gets +a stall; and then the meetings are called irregularly, and nothing is +done in them, and so gradually the affair dwindles and dies." + +Sheffield asked whether the present movement had not spread too widely +through the country for such a termination; he did not know much about +it himself, but the papers were full of it, and it was the talk of every +neighbourhood; it was not confined to Oxford. + +"I don't know about the country," said Mr. Malcolm, "that is a large +question; but it has not the elements of stability here. These gentlemen +will take livings and marry, and that will be the end of the business. I +am not speaking against them; they are, I believe, very respectable men; +but they are riding on the spring-tide of a fashion." + +Charles said it was a nuisance to see the party-spirit it introduced. +Oxford ought to be a place of quiet and study; peace and the Muses +always went together; whereas there was talk, talk, in every quarter. A +man could not go about his duties in a natural way, and take every one +as he came, but was obliged to take part in questions, and to consider +points which he might wish to put from him, and must sport an opinion +when he really had none to give. + +Mr. Malcolm assented in a half-absent way, looking at the view before +him, and seemingly enjoying it. "People call this county ugly," said he, +"and perhaps it is; but whether I am used to it or no, I always am +pleased with it. The lights are always new; and thus the landscape, if +it deserves the name, is always presented in a new dress. I have known +Shotover there take the most opposite hues, sometimes purple, sometimes +a bright saffron or tawny orange." Here he stopped: "Yes, you speak of +party-spirit; very true, there's a good deal of it.... No, I don't think +there's much," he continued, rousing; "certainly there is more division +just at this minute in Oxford, but there always is division, always +rivalry. The separate societies have their own interests and honour to +maintain, and quarrel, as the orders do in the Church of Rome. No, +that's too grand a comparison; rather, Oxford is like an almshouse for +clergymen's widows. Self-importance, jealousy, tittle-tattle are the +order of the day. It has always been so in my time. Two great ladies, +Mrs. Vice-Chancellor and Mrs. Divinity-Professor, can't agree, and have +followings respectively: or Vice-Chancellor himself, being a new broom, +sweeps all the young Masters clean out of Convocation House, to their +great indignation: or Mr. Slaney, Dean of St. Peter's, does not scruple +to say in a stage-coach that Mr. Wood is no scholar; on which the said +Wood calls him in return 'slanderous Slaney;' or the elderly Mr. Barge, +late Senior Fellow of St. Michael's, thinks that his pretty bride has +not been received with due honours; or Dr. Crotchet is for years kept +out of his destined bishopric by a sinister influence; or Mr. Professor +Carraway has been infamously shown up, in the _Edinburgh_, by an idle +fellow whom he plucked in the schools; or (_majora movemus_) three +colleges interchange a mortal vow of opposition to a fourth; or the +young working Masters conspire against the Heads. Now, however, we are +improving; if we must quarrel, let it be the rivalry of intellect and +conscience, rather than of interest or temper; let us contend for +things, not for shadows." + +Sheffield was pleased at this, and ventured to say that the present +state of things was more real, and therefore more healthy. Mr. Malcolm +did not seem to hear him, for he did not reply; and, as they were now +approaching the bridge again, the conversation stopped. Sheffield looked +slily at Charles, as Mr. Malcolm proceeded with them up High Street; and +both of them had the triumph and the amusement of being convoyed safely +past a proctor, who was patrolling it, under the protection of a +Master. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The walk to Oxley had not been the first or the second occasion on which +Charles had, in one shape or other, encountered Sheffield's views about +realities and shams; and his preachments had begun to make an impression +on him; that is, he felt that there was truth in them at bottom, and a +truth new to him. He was not a person to let a truth sleep in his mind; +though it did not vegetate very quickly, it was sure ultimately to be +pursued into its consequences, and to affect his existing opinions. In +the instance before us, he saw Sheffield's principle was more or less +antagonistic to his own favourite maxim, that it was a duty to be +pleased with every one. Contradictions could not both be real: when an +affirmative was true, a negative was false. All doctrines could not be +equally sound: there was a right and a wrong. The theory of dogmatic +truth, as opposed to latitudinarianism (he did not know their names or +their history, or suspect what was going on within him), had in the +course of these his first terms, gradually begun to energise in his +mind. Let him but see the absurdities of the latitudinarian principle, +when carried out, and he is likely to be still more opposed to it. + +Bateman, among his peculiarities, had a notion that bringing persons of +contrary sentiments together was the likeliest way of making a party +agreeable, or at least useful. He had done his best to give his +breakfast, to which our friends were invited, this element of +perfection; not, however, to his own satisfaction; for with all his +efforts, he had but picked up Mr. Freeborn, a young Evangelical Master, +with whom Sheffield was acquainted; a sharp, but not very wise freshman, +who, having been spoiled at home, and having plenty of money, professed +to be _ĉsthetic_, and kept his college authorities in a perpetual fidget +lest he should some morning wake up a Papist; and a friend of his, a +nice, modest-looking youth, who, like a mouse, had keen darting eyes, +and ate his bread and butter in absolute silence. + +They had hardly seated themselves, and Sheffield was pouring out coffee, +and a plate of muffins was going round, and Bateman was engaged, +saucepan in hand, in the operation of landing his eggs, now boiled, upon +the table, when our flighty youth, whose name was White, observed how +beautiful the Catholic custom was of making eggs the emblem of the +Easter-festival. "It is truly Catholic," said he; "for it is retained in +parts of England, you have it in Russia, and in Rome itself, where an +egg is served up on every plate through the Easter-week, after being, I +believe, blessed; and it is as expressive and significant as it is +Catholic." + +"Beautiful indeed!" said their host; "so pretty, so sweet; I wonder +whether our Reformers thought of it, or the profound Hooker,--he was +full of types--or Jewell. You recollect the staff Jewell gave Hooker: +that was a type. It was like the sending of Elisha's staff by his +servant to the dead child." + +"Oh, my dear, dear Bateman," cried Sheffield, "you are making Hooker +Gehazi!" + +"That's just the upshot of such trifling," said Mr. Freeborn; "you never +know where to find it; it proves anything, and disproves anything." + +"That is only till it's sanctioned," said White; "When the Catholic +Church sanctions it, we're safe." + +"Yes, we're safe," said Bateman; "it's safe when it's Catholic." + +"Yes," continued White, "things change their nature altogether when they +are taken up by the Catholic Church: that's how we are allowed to do +evil that good may come." + +"What's that?" said Bateman. + +"Why," said White, "the Church makes evil good." + +"My dear White," said Bateman gravely, "that's going too far; it is +indeed." + +Mr. Freeborn suspended his breakfast operations, and sat back in his +chair. + +"Why," continued White, "is not idolatry wrong--yet image-worship is +right?" + +Mr. Freeborn was in a state of collapse. + +"That's a bad instance, White," said Sheffield; "there _are_ people in +the world who are uncatholic enough to think image-worship is wrong, as +well as idolatry." + +"A mere Jesuitical distinction," said Freeborn with emotion. + +"Well," said White, who did not seem in great awe of the young M.A., +though some years, of course, his senior, "I will take a better +instance: who does not know that baptism gives grace? yet there were +heathen baptismal rites, which, of course, were devilish." + +"I should not be disposed, Mr. White, to grant you so much as you would +wish," said Freeborn, "about the virtue of baptism." + +"Not about Christian baptism?" asked White. + +"It is easy," answered Freeborn, "to mistake the sign for the thing +signified." + +"Not about Catholic baptism?" repeated White. + +"Catholic baptism is a mere deceit and delusion," retorted Mr. Freeborn. + +"Oh, my dear Freeborn," interposed Bateman, "now _you_ are going too +far; you are indeed." + +"Catholic, Catholic--I don't know what you mean," said Freeborn. + +"I mean," said White, "the baptism of the one Catholic Church of which +the Creed speaks: it's quite intelligible." + +"But what do you mean by the Catholic Church?" asked Freeborn. + +"The Anglican," answered Bateman. + +"The Roman," answered White; both in the same breath. + +There was a general laugh. + +"There is nothing to laugh at," said Bateman; "Anglican and Roman are +one." + +"One! impossible," cried Sheffield. + +"Much worse than impossible," observed Mr. Freeborn. + +"I should make a distinction," said Bateman: "I should say, they are +one, except the corruptions of the Romish Church." + +"That is, they are one, except where they differ," said Sheffield. + +"Precisely so," said Bateman. + +"Rather, _I_ should say," objected Mr. Freeborn, "two, except where they +agree." + +"That's just the issue," said Sheffield; "Bateman says that the Churches +are one except when they are two; and Freeborn says that they are two +except when they are one." + +It was a relief at this moment that the cook's boy came in with a dish +of hot sausages; but though a relief, it was not a diversion; the +conversation proceeded. Two persons did not like it; Freeborn, who was +simply disgusted at the doctrine, and Reding, who thought it a bore; yet +it was the bad luck of Freeborn forthwith to set Charles against him, as +well as the rest, and to remove the repugnance which he had to engage in +the dispute. Freeborn, in fact, thought theology itself a mistake, as +substituting, as he considered, worthless intellectual notions for the +vital truths of religion; so he now went on to observe, putting down his +knife and fork, that it really was to him inconceivable, that real +religion should depend on metaphysical distinctions, or outward +observances; that it was quite a different thing in Scripture; that +Scripture said much of faith and holiness, but hardly a word about +Churches and forms. He proceeded to say that it was the great and evil +tendency of the human mind to interpose between itself and its Creator +some self-invented mediator, and it did not matter at all whether that +human device was a rite, or a creed, or a form of prayer, or good works, +or communion with particular Churches--all were but "flattering unctions +to the soul," if they were considered necessary; the only safe way of +using them was to use them with the feeling that you might dispense with +them; that none of them went to the root of the matter, for that faith, +that is, firm belief that God had forgiven you, was the one thing +needful; that where that one thing was present, everything else was +superfluous; that where it was wanting, nothing else availed. So +strongly did he hold this, that (he confessed he put it pointedly, but +still not untruly), where true faith was present, a person might be +anything in profession; an Arminian, a Calvinist, an Episcopalian, a +Presbyterian, a Swedenborgian--nay, a Unitarian--he would go further, +looking at White, a Papist, yet be in a state of salvation. + +Freeborn came out rather more strongly than in his sober moments he +would have approved; but he was a little irritated, and wished to have +his turn of speaking. It was altogether a great testification. + +"Thank you for your liberality to the poor Papists," said White; "it +seems they are safe if they are hypocrites, professing to be Catholics, +while they are Protestants in heart." + +"Unitarians, too," said Sheffield, "are debtors to your liberality; it +seems a man need not fear to believe too little, so that he feels a good +deal." + +"Rather," said White, "if he believes himself forgiven, he need not +believe anything else." + +Reding put in his word; he said that in the Prayer Book, belief in the +Holy Trinity was represented, not as an accident, but as "before all +things" necessary to salvation. + +"That's not a fair answer, Reding," said Sheffield; "what Mr. Freeborn +observed was, that there's no creed in the Bible; and you answer that +there is a creed in the Prayer Book." + +"Then the Bible says one thing, and the Prayer Book another," said +Bateman. + +"No," answered Freeborn; "The Prayer Book only _deduces_ from Scripture; +the Athanasian Creed is a human invention; true, but human, and to be +received, as one of the Articles expressly says, because 'founded on +Scripture.' Creeds are useful in their place, so is the Church; but +neither Creed nor Church is religion." + +"Then why do you make so much of your doctrine of 'faith only'?" said +Bateman; "for that is not in Scripture, and is but a human deduction." + +"_My_ doctrine!" cried Freeborn; "why it's in the Articles; the Articles +expressly say that we are justified by faith only." + +"The Articles are not Scripture any more than the Prayer Book," said +Sheffield. + +"Nor do the Articles say that the doctrine they propound is necessary +for salvation," added Bateman. + +All this was very unfair on Freeborn, though he had provoked it. Here +were four persons on him at once, and the silent fifth apparently a +sympathiser. Sheffield talked through malice; White from habit; Reding +came in because he could not help it; and Bateman spoke on principle; he +had a notion that he was improving Freeborn's views by this process of +badgering. At least he did not improve his temper, which was suffering. +Most of the party were undergraduates; he (Freeborn) was a Master; it +was too bad of Bateman. He finished in silence his sausage, which had +got quite cold. The conversation flagged; there was a rise in toast and +muffins; coffee-cups were put aside, and tea flowed freely. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Freeborn did not like to be beaten; he began again. Religion, he said, +was a matter of the heart; no one could interpret Scripture rightly +whose heart was not right. Till our eyes were enlightened, to dispute +about the sense of Scripture, to attempt to deduce from Scripture, was +beating about the bush: it was like the blind disputing about colours. + +"If this is true," said Bateman, "no one ought to argue about religion +at all; but you were the first to do so, Freeborn." + +"Of course," answered Freeborn, "those who have _found_ the truth are +the very persons to argue, for they have the gift." + +"And the very last persons to persuade," said Sheffield; "for they have +the gift all to themselves." + +"Therefore true Christians should argue with each other, and with no one +else," said Bateman. + +"But those are the very persons who don't want it," said Sheffield; +"reasoning must be for the unconverted, not for the converted. It is the +means of seeking." + +Freeborn persisted that the reason of the unconverted was carnal, and +that such could not understand Scripture. + +"I have always thought," said Reding, "that reason was a general gift, +though faith is a special and personal one. If faith is really rational, +all ought to see that it is rational; else, from the nature of the case, +it is not rational." + +"But St. Paul says," answered Freeborn, "that 'to the natural man the +things of the Spirit are foolishness.'" + +"But how are we to arrive at truth at all," said Reding, "except by +reason? It is the appointed method for our guidance. Brutes go by +instinct, men by reason." + +They had fallen on a difficult subject; all were somewhat puzzled except +White, who had not been attending, and was simply wearied; he now +interposed. "It would be a dull world," he said, "if men went by reason: +they may think they do, but they don't. Really, they are led by their +feelings, their affections, by the sense of the beautiful, and the good, +and the holy. Religion is the beautiful; the clouds, sun, and sky, the +fields and the woods, are religion." + +"This would make all religions true," said Freeborn, "good and bad." + +"No," answered White, "heathen rites are bloody and impure, not +beautiful; and Mahometanism is as cold and as dry as any Calvinistic +meeting. The Mahometans have no altars or priests, nothing but a pulpit +and a preacher." + +"Like St. Mary's," said Sheffield. + +"Very like," said White; "we have no life or poetry in the Church of +England; the Catholic Church alone is beautiful. You would see what I +mean if you went into a foreign cathedral, or even into one of the +Catholic churches in our large towns. The celebrant, deacon, and +subdeacon, acolytes with lights, the incense, and the chanting--all +combine to one end, one act of worship. You feel it _is_ really a +worshipping; every sense, eyes, ears, smell, are made to know that +worship is going on. The laity on the floor saying their beads, or +making their acts; the choir singing out the _Kyrie_; and the priest and +his assistants bowing low, and saying the _Confiteor_ to each other. +This is worship, and it is far above reason." + +This was spoken with all his heart; but it was quite out of keeping with +the conversation which had preceded it, and White's poetry was almost as +disagreeable to the party as Freeborn's prose. + +"White, you should turn Catholic out and out," said Sheffield. + +"My dear good fellow," said Bateman, "think what you are saying. You +can't really have gone to a schismatical chapel. Oh, for shame!" + +Freeborn observed, gravely, that if the two Churches _were_ one, as had +been maintained, he could not see, do what he would, why it was wrong to +go to and fro from one to the other. + +"You forget," said Bateman to White, "you have, or might have, all this +in your own Church, without the Romish corruptions." + +"As to the Romish corruptions," answered White, "I know very little +about them." + +Freeborn groaned audibly. + +"I know very little about them," repeated White eagerly, "very little; +but what is that to the purpose? We must take things as we find them. I +don't like what is bad in the Catholic Church, if there is bad, but what +is good. I do not go to it for what is bad, but for what is good. You +can't deny that what I admire is very good and beautiful. Only you try +to introduce it into your own Church. You would give your ears, you know +you would, to hear the _Dies irĉ_." + +Here a general burst of laughter took place. White was an Irishman. It +was a happy interruption; the party rose up from table, and a tap at +that minute, which sounded at the door, succeeded in severing the thread +of the conversation. + +It was a printseller's man with a large book of plates. + +"Well timed," said Bateman;--"put them down, Baker: or rather give them +to me;--I can take the opinion of you men on a point I have much at +heart. You know I wanted you, Freeborn, to go with me to see my chapel; +Sheffield and Reding have looked into it. Well now, just see here." + +He opened the portfolio; it contained views of the Campo Santo at Pisa. +The leaves were slowly turned over in silence, the spectators partly +admiring, partly not knowing what to think, partly wondering at what was +coming. + +"What do you think my plan is?" he continued. "You twitted me, +Sheffield, because my chapel would be useless. Now I mean to get a +cemetery attached to it; there is plenty of land; and then the chapel +will become a chantry. But now, what will you say if we have a copy of +these splendid medieval monuments round the burial-place, both sculpture +and painting? Now, Sheffield, Mr. Critic, what do you say to that?" + +"A most admirable plan," said Sheffield, "and quite removes my +objections.... A chantry! what is that? Don't they say Mass in it for +the dead?" + +"Oh, no, no, no," said Bateman, in fear of Freeborn; "we'll have none of +your Popery. It will be a simple, guileless chapel, in which the Church +Service will be read." + +Meanwhile Sheffield was slowly turning over the plates. He stopped at +one. "What will you do with that figure?" he said, pointing to a +Madonna. + +"Oh, it will be best, most prudent, to leave it out; certainly, +certainly." + +Sheffield soon began again: "But look here, my good fellow, what do you +do with these saints and angels? do see, why here's a complete legend; +do you mean to have this? Here's a set of miracles, and a woman invoking +a saint in heaven." + +Bateman looked cautiously at them, and did not answer. He would have +shut the book, but Sheffield wished to see some more. Meanwhile he said, +"Oh yes, true, there _are_ some things; but I have an expedient for all +this; I mean to make it all allegorical. The Blessed Virgin shall be the +Church, and the saints shall be cardinal and other virtues; and as to +that saint's life, St. Ranieri's, it shall be a Catholic 'Pilgrim's +Progress.'" + +"Good! then you must drop all these popes and bishops, copes and +chalices," said Sheffield; "and have their names written under the rest, +that people mayn't take them for saints and angels. Perhaps you had +better have scrolls from their mouths, in old English. This St. Thomas +is stout; make him say, 'I am Mr. Dreadnought,' or 'I am Giant Despair;' +and, since this beautiful saint bears a sort of dish, make her 'Mrs. +Creature Comfort.' But look here," he continued, "a whole set of devils; +are _these_ to be painted up?" + +Bateman attempted forcibly to shut the book; Sheffield went on: "St. +Anthony's temptations; what's this? Here's the fiend in the shape of a +cat on a wine-barrel." + +"Really, really," said Bateman, disgusted, and getting possession of it, +"you are quite offensive, quite. We will look at them when you are more +serious." + +Sheffield indeed was very provoking, and Bateman more good-humoured than +many persons would have been in his place. Meanwhile Freeborn, who had +had his gown in his hand the last two minutes, nodded to his host, and +took his departure by himself; and White and Willis soon followed in +company. + +"Really," said Bateman to Sheffield, when they were gone, "you and +White, each in his own way, are so very rash in your mode of speaking, +and before other people, too. I wished to teach Freeborn a little good +Catholicism, and you have spoilt all. I hoped something would have come +out of this breakfast. But only think of White! it will all out. +Freeborn will tell it to his set. It is very bad, very bad indeed. And +you, my friend, are not much better; never serious. What _could_ you +mean by saying that our Church is not one with the Romish? It was giving +Freeborn such an advantage." + +Sheffield looked provokingly easy; and, leaning with his back against +the mantelpiece, and his coat-tail almost playing with the spout of the +kettle, replied, "You had a most awkward team to drive." Then he added, +looking sideways at him, with his head back, "And why had you, O most +correct of men, the audacity to say that the English Church and the +Romish Church _were_ one?" + +"It must be so," answered Bateman; "there is but one Church--the Creed +says so; would you make two?" + +"I don't speak of doctrine," said Sheffield, "but of fact. I didn't mean +to say that there _were_ two _Churches_; nor to deny that there was one +_Church_. I but denied the fact, that what are evidently two bodies were +one body." + +Bateman thought awhile; and Charles employed himself in scraping down +the soot from the back of the chimney with the poker. He did not wish to +speak, but he was not sorry to listen to such an argument. + +"My good fellow," said Bateman, in a tone of instruction, "you are +making a distinction between a Church and a body which I don't quite +comprehend. You say that there are two bodies, and yet but one Church. +If so, the Church is not a body, but something abstract, a mere name, a +general idea; is _that_ your meaning? if so, you are an honest +Calvinist." + +"You are another," answered Sheffield; "for if you make two visible +Churches, English and Romish, to be one Church, that one Church must be +invisible, not visible. Thus, if I hold an abstract Church, you hold an +invisible one." + +"I do not see that," said Bateman. + +"Prove the two Churches to be one," said Sheffield, "and then I'll prove +something else." + +"Some paradox?" said Bateman. + +"Of course," answered Sheffield, "a huge one; but yours, not mine. Prove +the English and Romish Churches to be in any sense one, and I will prove +by parallel arguments that in the same sense we and the Wesleyans are +one." + +This was a fair challenge. Bateman, however, suddenly put on a demure +look, and was silent. "We are on sacred subjects," he said at length in +a subdued tone, "we are on very sacred subjects; we must be reverent," +and he drew a very long face. + +Sheffield laughed out, nor could Reding stand it. "What is it?" cried +Sheffield; "don't be hard on me? What have I done? Where did the +sacredness begin? I eat my words." + +"Oh, he meant nothing," said Charles, "indeed he did not; he's more +serious than he seems; do answer him; I am interested." + +"Really, I do wish to treat the subject gravely," said Sheffield; "I +will begin again. I am very sorry, indeed I am. Let me put the objection +more reverently." + +Bateman relaxed: "My good Sheffield," he said, "the thing is irreverent, +not the manner. It is irreverent to liken your holy mother to the +Wesleyan schismatics." + +"I repent, I do indeed," said Sheffield; "it was a wavering of faith; it +was very unseemly, I confess it. What can I say more? Look at me; won't +this do? But now tell me, do tell me, _how_ are we one body with the +Romanists, yet the Wesleyans not one body with us?" + +Bateman looked at him, and was satisfied with the expression of his +face. "It's a strange question for you to ask," he said; "I fancied you +were a sharper fellow. Don't you see that we have the apostolical +succession as well as the Romanists?" + +"But Romanists say," answered Sheffield, "that that is not enough for +unity; that we ought to be in communion with the Pope." + +"That's their mistake," answered Bateman. + +"That's just what the Wesleyans say of us," retorted Sheffield, "when we +won't acknowledge _their_ succession; they say it's our mistake." + +"Their succession!" cried Bateman; "they have no succession." + +"Yes, they have," said Sheffield; "they have a ministerial succession." + +"It isn't apostolical," answered Bateman. + +"Yes, but it is evangelical, a succession of doctrine," said Sheffield. + +"Doctrine! Evangelical!" cried Bateman; "whoever heard! that's not +enough; doctrine is not enough without bishops." + +"And succession is not enough without the Pope," answered Sheffield. + +"They act against the bishops," said Bateman, not quite seeing whither +he was going. + +"And we act against the Pope," said Sheffield. + +"We say that the Pope isn't necessary," said Bateman. + +"And they say that bishops are not necessary," returned Sheffield. + +They were out of breath, and paused to see where they stood. Presently +Bateman said, "My good sir, this is a question of _fact_, not of +argumentative cleverness. The question is, whether it is not _true_ that +bishops are necessary to the notion of a Church, and whether it is not +_false_ that Popes are necessary." + +"No, no," cried Sheffield, "the question is this, whether obedience to +our bishops is not necessary to make Wesleyans one body with us, and +obedience to their Pope necessary to make us one body with the +Romanists. You maintain the one, and deny the other; I maintain both. +Maintain both, or deny both: I am consistent; you are inconsistent." + +Bateman was puzzled. + +"In a word," Sheffield added, "succession is not unity, any more than +doctrine." + +"Not unity? What then is unity?" asked Bateman. + +"Oneness of polity," answered Sheffield. + +Bateman thought awhile. "The idea is preposterous," he said: "here we +have _possession_; here we are established since King Lucius's time, or +since St. Paul preached here; filling the island; one continuous Church; +with the same territory, the same succession, the same hierarchy, the +same civil and political position, the same churches. Yes," he +proceeded, "we have the very same fabrics, the memorials of a thousand +years, doctrine stamped and perpetuated in stone; all the mystical +teaching of the old saints. What have the Methodists to do with Catholic +rites? with altars, with sacrifice, with rood-lofts, with fonts, with +niches?--they call it all superstition." + +"Don't be angry with me, Bateman," said Sheffield, "and, before going, I +will put forth a parable. Here's the Church of England, as like a +Protestant Establishment as it can stare; bishops and people, all but a +few like yourselves, call it Protestant; the living body calls itself +Protestant; the living body abjures Catholicism, flings off the name and +the thing, hates the Church of Rome, laughs at sacramental power, +despises the Fathers, is jealous of priestcraft, is a Protestant +reality, is a Catholic sham. This existing reality, which is alive and +no mistake, you wish to top with a filagree-work of screens, dorsals, +pastoral staffs, croziers, mitres, and the like. Now most excellent +Bateman, will you hear my parable? will you be offended at it?" + +Silence gave consent, and Sheffield proceeded. + +"Why, once on a time a negro boy, when his master was away, stole into +his wardrobe, and determined to make himself fine at his master's +expense. So he was presently seen in the streets, naked as usual, but +strutting up and down with a cocked hat on his head, and a pair of white +kid gloves on his hands." + +"Away with you! get out, you graceless, hopeless fellow!" said Bateman, +discharging the sofa-bolster at his head. Meanwhile Sheffield ran to the +door, and quickly found himself with Charles in the street below. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Sheffield and Charles may go their way; but we must follow White and +Willis out of Bateman's lodgings. It was a Saint's day, and they had no +lectures; they walked arm-in-arm along Broad Street, evidently very +intimate, and Willis found his voice: "I can't bear that Freeborn," said +he, "he's such a prig; and I like him the less because I am obliged to +know him." + +"You knew him in the country, I think?" said White. + +"In consequence, he has several times had me to his spiritual +tea-parties, and has introduced me to old Mr. Grimes, a good, +kind-hearted old _fogie_, but an awful evangelical, and his wife worse. +Grimes is the old original religious tea-man, and Freeborn imitates him. +They get together as many men as they can, perhaps twenty freshmen, +bachelors, and masters, who sit in a circle, with cups and saucers in +their hands and hassocks at their knees. Some insufferable person of +Capel Hall or St. Mark's, who hardly speaks English, under pretence of +asking Mr. Grimes some divinity question, holds forth on original sin, +or justification, or assurance, monopolizing the conversation. Then +tea-things go, and a portion of Scripture comes instead; and old Grimes +expounds; very good it is, doubtless, though he is a layman. He's a good +old soul; but no one in the room can stand it; even Mrs. Grimes nods +over her knitting, and some of the dear brothers breathe very audibly. +Mr. Grimes, however, hears nothing but himself. At length he stops; his +hearers wake up, and the hassocks begin. Then we go; and Mr. Grimes and +the St. Mark's man call it a profitable evening. I can't make out why +any one goes twice; yet some men never miss." + +"They all go on faith," said White: "faith in Mr. Grimes." + +"Faith in old Grimes," said Willis; "an old half-pay lieutenant!" + +"Here's a church open," said White; "that's odd; let's go in." + +They entered; an old woman was dusting the pews as if for service. "That +will be all set right," said Willis; "we must have no women, but +sacristans and servers." + +"Then, you know, all these pews will go to the right about. Did you ever +see a finer church for a function?" + +"Where would you put the sacristy?" said Willis; "that closet is meant +for the vestry, but would never be large enough." + +"That depends on the number of altars the church admits," answered +White; "each altar must have its own dresser and wardrobe in the +sacristy." + +"One," said Willis, counting, "where the pulpit stands, that'll be the +high altar; one quite behind, that may be Our Lady's; two, one on each +side of the chancel--four already; to whom do you dedicate them?" + +"The church is not wide enough for those side ones," objected White. + +"Oh, but it is," said Willis; "I have seen, abroad, altars with only one +step to them, and they need not be very broad. I think, too, this wall +admits of an arch--look at the depth of the window; _that_ would be a +gain of room." + +"No," persisted White; "the chancel is too narrow;" and he began to +measure the floor with his pocket-handkerchief. "What would you say is +the depth of an altar from the wall?" he asked. + +On looking up he saw some ladies in the church whom he and Willis +knew--the pretty Miss Boltons--very Catholic girls, and really kind, +charitable persons into the bargain. We cannot add, that they were much +wiser at that time than the two young gentlemen whom they now +encountered; and if any fair reader thinks our account of them a +reflection on Catholic-minded ladies generally, we beg distinctly to +say, that we by no means put them forth as a type of a class; that among +such persons were to be found, as we know well, the gentlest spirits and +the tenderest hearts; and that nothing short of severe fidelity to +historical truth keeps us from adorning these two young persons in +particular with that prudence and good sense with which so many such +ladies were endowed. These two sisters had open hands, if they had not +wise heads; and their object in entering the church (which was not the +church of their own parish) was to see the old woman, who was at once a +subject and instrument of their bounty, and to say a word about her +little grandchildren, in whom they were interested. As may be supposed, +they did not know much of matters ecclesiastical, and they knew less of +themselves; and the latter defect White could not supply, though he was +doing, and had done, his best to remedy the former deficiency; and every +meeting did a little. + +The two parties left the church together, and the gentlemen saw the +ladies home. "We were imagining, Miss Bolton," White said, walking at a +respectful distance from her, "we were imagining St. James's a Catholic +church, and trying to arrange things as they ought to be." + +"What was your first reform?" asked Miss Bolton. + +"I fear," answered White, "it would fare hard with your _protégée_, the +old lady who dusts out the pews." + +"Why, certainly," said Miss Bolton, "because there would be no pews to +dust." + +"But not only in office, but in person, or rather in character, she must +make her exit from the church," said White. + +"Impossible," said Miss Bolton; "are women, then, to remain +Protestants?" + +"Oh, no," answered White, "the good lady will reappear, only in another +character; she will be a widow." + +"And who will take her present place?" + +"A sacristan," answered White; "a sacristan in a cotta. Do you like the +short cotta or the long?" he continued, turning to the younger lady. + +"I?" answered Miss Charlotte; "I always forget, but I think you told us +the Roman was the short one; I'm for the short cotta." + +"You know, Charlotte," said Miss Bolton, "that there's a great reform +going on in England in ecclesiastical vestments." + +"I hate all reforms," answered Charlotte, "from the Reformation +downwards. Besides, we have got some way in our cope; you have seen it, +Mr. White? it's such a sweet pattern." + +"Have you determined what to do with it?" asked Willis. + +"Time enough to think of that," said Charlotte; "it'll take four years +to finish." + +"Four years!" cried White; "we shall be all real Catholics by then; +England will be converted." + +"It will be done just in time for the Bishop," said Charlotte. + +"Oh, it's not good enough for him!" said Miss Bolton; "but it may do in +church for the _Asperges_. How different all things will be!" continued +she; "I don't quite like, though, the idea of a cardinal in Oxford. Must +we be so very Roman? I don't see why we might not be quite Catholic +without the Pope." + +"Oh, you need not be afraid," said White sagely; "things don't go so +apace. Cardinals are not so cheap." + +"Cardinals have so much state and stiffness," said Miss Bolton: "I hear +they never walk without two servants behind them; and they always leave +the room directly dancing begins." + +"Well, I think Oxford must be just cut out for cardinals," said Miss +Charlotte; "can anything be duller than the President's parties? I can +fancy Dr. Bone a cardinal, as he walks round the parks." + +"Oh, it's the genius of the Catholic Church," said White; "you will +understand it better in time. No one is his own master; even the Pope +cannot do as he will; he dines by himself, and speaks by precedent." + +"Of course he does," said Charlotte, "for he is infallible." + +"Nay, if he makes mistakes in the functions," continued White, "he is +obliged to write them down and confess them, lest they should be drawn +into precedents." + +"And he is obliged, during a function, to obey the master of ceremonies, +against his own judgment," said Willis. + +"Didn't you say the Pope confessed, Mr. White?" asked Miss Bolton; "it +has always puzzled me whether the Pope was obliged to confess like +another man." + +"Oh, certainly," answered White, "every one confesses." + +"Well," said Charlotte, "I can't fancy Mr. Hurst of St. Peter's, who +comes here to sing glees, confessing, or some of the grave heads of +houses, who bow so stiffly." + +"They will all have to confess," said White. + +"All?" asked Miss Bolton; "you don't mean converts confess? I thought it +was only old Catholics." + +There was a little pause. + +"And what will the heads of houses be?" asked Miss Charlotte. + +"Abbots or superiors," answered White; "they will bear crosses; and when +they say Mass, there will be a lighted candle in addition." + +"What a good portly abbot the Vice-Chancellor will make!" said Miss +Bolton. + +"Oh, no; he's too short for an abbot," said her sister; "but you have +left out the Chancellor himself: you seem to have provided for every one +else; what will become of him?" + +"The Chancellor is my difficulty," said White gravely. + +"Make him a Knight-Templar," said Willis. + +"The Duke's a queer hand," said White, still thoughtfully: "there's no +knowing what he'll come to. A Knight-Templar--yes; Malta is now English +property; he might revive the order." + +The ladies both laughed. + +"But you have not completed your plan, Mr. White," said Miss Bolton: +"the heads of houses have got wives; how can they become monks?" + +"Oh, the wives will go into convents," said White: "Willis and I have +been making inquiries in the High Street, and they are most +satisfactory. Some of the houses there were once university-halls and +inns, and will easily turn back into convents: all that will be wanted +is grating to the windows." + +"Have you any notion what order they ought to join?" said Miss +Charlotte. + +"That depends on themselves," said White: "no compulsion whatever must +be put on them. _They_ are the judges. But it would be useful to have +two convents--one of an active order, and one contemplative: Ursuline +for instance, and Carmelite of St. Theresa's reform." + +Hitherto their conversation had been on the verge of jest and earnest; +now it took a more pensive tone. + +"The nuns of St. Theresa are very strict, I believe, Mr. White," said +Miss Bolton. + +"Yes," he made reply; "I have fears for the Mrs. Wardens and Mrs. +Principals who at their age undertake it." + +They had got home, and White politely rang the bell. + +"Younger persons," said he tenderly, "are too delicate for such a +sacrifice." + +Louisa was silent; presently she said, "And what will you be, Mr. +White?" + +"I know not," he answered; "I have thought of the Cistercians; they +never speak." + +"Oh, the dear Cistercians!" she said; "St. Bernard wasn't it?--sweet, +heavenly man, and so young! I have seen his picture: such eyes!" + +White was a good-looking man. The nun and the monk looked at each other +very respectfully, and bowed; the other pair went through a similar +ceremony; then it was performed diagonally. The two ladies entered their +home; the two gentlemen retired. + +We must follow the former upstairs. When they entered the drawing-room +they found their mother sitting at the window in her bonnet and shawl, +dipping into a chance volume in that unsettled state which implies that +a person is occupied, if it may be so called, in waiting, more than in +anything else. + +"My dear children," she said as they entered, "where _have_ you been? +the bells have stopped a good quarter of an hour: I fear we must give up +going to church this morning." + +"Impossible, dear mamma," answered Miss Bolton; "we went out punctually +at half-past nine; we did not stop two minutes at your worsted-shop; and +here we are back again." + +"The only thing we did besides," said Charlotte, "was to look in at St. +James's, as the door was open, to say a word or two to poor old Wiggins. +Mr. White was there, and his friend Mr. Willis; and they saw us home." + +"Oh, I understand," answered Mrs. Bolton; "that is the way when young +gentlemen and ladies get together: but at any rate we are late for +church." + +"Oh, no," said Charlotte, "let us set out directly, we shall get in by +the first lesson." + +"My dear child, how can you propose such a thing?" said her mother: "I +would not do so for any consideration; it is so very disgraceful. Better +not go at all." + +"Oh, dearest mamma," said the elder sister, "this certainly _is_ a +prejudice. Why always come in at one time? there is something so formal +in people coming in all at once, and waiting for each other. It is +surely more reasonable to come in when you can: so many things may +hinder persons." + +"Well, my dear Louisa," said her mother, "I like the old way. +It used always to be said to us, Be in your seats before 'When the +wicked man,' and at latest before the 'Dearly Beloved.' That's the good +old-fashioned way. And Mr. Jones and Mr. Pearson used always to sit at +least five minutes in the desk to give us some law, and used to look +round before beginning; and Mr. Jones used frequently to preach against +late comers. I can't argue, but it seems to me reasonable that good +Christians should hear the whole service. They might as well go out +before it's over." + +"Well, but, mamma," said Charlotte, "so it _is_ abroad: they come in and +go out when they please. It's so devotional." + +"My dear girl," said Mrs. Bolton, "I am too old to understand all this; +it's beyond me. I suppose Mr. White has been saying all this to you. +He's a good young man, very amiable and attentive. I have nothing to say +against him, except that he _is_ young, and he'll change his view of +things when he gets older." + +"While we talk, time's going," said Louisa; "is it quite impossible we +should still go to church?" + +"My dear Louisa, I would not walk up the aisle for the world; positively +I should sink into the earth: such a bad example! How can you dream of +such a thing?" + +"Then I suppose nothing's to be done," said Louisa, taking off her +bonnet; "but really it is very sad to make worship so cold and formal a +thing. Twice as many people would go to church if they might be late." + +"Well, my dear, all things are changed now: in my younger days Catholics +were the formal people, and we were the devotional; now it's just the +reverse." + +"But isn't it so, dear mamma?" said Charlotte, "isn't it something much +more beautiful, this continued concourse, flowing and ebbing, changing +yet full, than a way of praying which is as wooden as the +reading-desk?--it's so free and natural." + +"Free and easy, _I_ think," said her mother; "for shame, Charlotte! how +can you speak against the beautiful Church Service; you pain me." + +"I don't," answered Charlotte; "it's a mere puritanical custom, which is +no more part of our Church than the pews are." + +"Common Prayer is offered to all who can come," said Louisa; "Church +should be a privilege, not a mere duty." + +"Well, my dear love, this is more than I can follow. There was young +George Ashton--he always left before the sermon; and when taxed with it, +he said he could not bear an heretical preacher; a boy of eighteen!" + +"But, dearest mamma," said Charlotte, "what _is_ to be done when a +preacher is heretical? what else can be done?--it's so distressing to a +Catholic mind." + +"Catholic, Catholic!" cried Mrs. Bolton, rather vexed; "give me good old +George the Third and the Protestant religion. Those were the times! +Everything went on quietly then. We had no disputes or divisions; no +differences in families. But now it is all otherwise. My head is turned, +I declare; I hear so many strange, out-of-the-way things." + +The young ladies did not answer; one looked out of the window, the other +prepared to leave the room. + +"Well it's a disappointment to us all," said their mother; "you first +hindered me going, then I have hindered you. But I suspect, dear Louisa, +mine is the greater disappointment of the two." + +Louisa turned round from the window. + +"I value the Prayer Book as you cannot do, my love," she continued; "for +I have known what it is to one in deep affliction. May it be long, +dearest girls, before you know it in a similar way; but if affliction +comes on you, depend on it, all these new fancies and fashions will +vanish from you like the wind, and the good old Prayer Book alone will +stand you in any stead." + +They were both touched. + +"Come, my dears; I have spoken too seriously," she added. "Go and take +your things off, and come and let us have some quiet work before +luncheon-time." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Some persons fidget at intellectual difficulties, and, successfully or +not, are ever trying to solve them. Charles was of a different cast of +temper; a new idea was not lost on him, but it did not distress him, if +it was obscure, or conflicted with his habitual view of things. He let +it work its way and find its place, and shape itself within him, by the +slow spontaneous action of the mind. Yet perplexity is not in itself a +pleasant state; and he would have hastened its removal, had he been +able. + +By means of conversations such as those which we have related (to which +many others might be added, which we spare the reader's patience), and +from the diversities of view which he met with in the University, he had +now come, in the course of a year, to one or two conclusions, not very +novel, but very important:--first, that there are a great many opinions +in the world on the most momentous subjects; secondly, that all are not +equally true; thirdly, that it is a duty to hold true opinions; and, +fourthly, that it is uncommonly difficult to get hold of them. He had +been accustomed, as we have seen, to fix his mind on persons, not on +opinions, and to determine to like what was good in every one; but he +had now come to perceive that, to say the least, it was not respectable +in any great question to hold false opinions. It did not matter that +such false opinions were sincerely held,--he could not feel that respect +for a person who held what Sheffield called a sham, with which he +regarded him who held a reality. White and Bateman were cases in point; +they were very good fellows, but he could not endure their unreal way of +talking, though they did not feel it to be unreal themselves. In like +manner, if the Roman Catholic system was untrue, so far was plain +(putting aside higher considerations), that a person who believed in the +power of saints, and prayed to them, was an actor in a great sham, let +him be as sincere as he would. He mistook words for things, and so far +forth, he could not respect him more than he respected White or Bateman. +And so of a Unitarian; if he believed the power of unaided human nature +to be what it was not; if by birth man is fallen, and he thought him +upright, he was holding an absurdity. He might redeem and cover this +blot by a thousand excellences, but a blot it would remain; just as we +should feel a handsome man disfigured by the loss of an eye or a hand. +And so, again, if a professing Christian made the Almighty a being of +simple benevolence, and He was, on the contrary, what the Church of +England teaches, a God who punishes for the sake of justice, such a +person was making an idol or unreality the object of his religion, and +(apart from more serious thoughts about him) so far he could not respect +him. Thus the principle of dogmatism gradually became an essential +element in Charles's religious views. + +Gradually, and imperceptibly to himself; for the thoughts which we have +been tracing only came on him at spare times, and were taken up at +intervals from the point at which they were laid down. His lectures and +other duties of the place, his friends and recreations, were the staple +of the day; but there was this undercurrent ever in motion, and sounding +in his mental ear as soon as other sounds were hushed. As he dressed in +the morning, as he sat under the beeches of his college-garden, when he +strolled into the meadow, when he went into the town to pay a bill or +make a call, when he threw himself on his sofa after shutting his oak at +night, thoughts cognate with those which have been described were busy +within him. + +Discussions, however, and inquiries, as far as Oxford could afford +matter for them, were for a while drawing to an end; for Trinity Sunday +was now past, and the Commemoration was close at hand. On the Sunday +before it, the University sermon happened to be preached by a +distinguished person, whom that solemnity brought up to Oxford; no less +a man than the Very Rev. Dr. Brownside, the new Dean of Nottingham, some +time Huntingdonian Professor of Divinity, and one of the acutest, if not +soundest academical thinkers of the day. He was a little, prim, +smirking, be-spectacled man, bald in front, with curly black hair +behind, somewhat pompous in his manner, with a clear musical utterance, +which enabled one to listen to him without effort. As a divine, he +seemed never to have had any difficulty on any subject; he was so clear +or so shallow, that he saw to the bottom of all his thoughts: or, since +Dr. Johnson tells us that "all shallows are clear," we may perhaps +distinguish him by both epithets. Revelation to him, instead of being +the abyss of God's counsels, with its dim outlines and broad shadows, +was a flat, sunny plain, laid out with straight macadamised roads. Not, +of course, that he denied the Divine incomprehensibility itself, with +certain heretics of old; but he maintained that in Revelation all that +was mysterious had been left out, and nothing given us but what was +practical, and directly concerned us. It was, moreover, to him a marvel, +that every one did not agree with him in taking this simple, natural +view, which he thought almost self-evident; and he attributed the +phenomenon, which was by no means uncommon, to some want of clearness of +head, or twist of mind, as the case might be. He was a popular preacher; +that is, though he had few followers, he had numerous hearers; and on +this occasion the church was overflowing with the young men of the +place. + +He began his sermon by observing, that it was not a little remarkable +that there were so few good reasoners in the world, considering that the +discursive faculty was one of the characteristics of man's nature, as +contrasted with brute animals. It had indeed been said that brutes +reasoned; but this was an analogical sense of the word "reason," and an +instance of that very ambiguity of language, or confusion of thought, on +which he was animadverting. In like manner, we say that the _reason_ why +the wind blows is, that there is a change of temperature in the +atmosphere; and the _reason_ why the bells ring is, because the ringers +pull them; but who would say that the wind _reasons_ or that bells +_reason_? There was, he believed, no well-ascertained fact (an emphasis +on the word _fact_) of brutes reasoning. It had been said, indeed, that +that sagacious animal, the dog, if, in tracking his master, he met three +ways, after smelling the two, boldly pursued the third without any such +previous investigation; which, if true, would be an instance of a +disjunctive hypothetical syllogism. Also Dugald Stewart spoke of the +case of a monkey cracking nuts behind a door, which, not being a strict +imitation of anything which he could have actually seen, implied an +operation of abstraction, by which the clever brute had first ascended +to the general notion of nut-crackers, which perhaps he had seen in a +particular instance, in silver or in steel, at his master's table, and +then descending, had embodied it, thus obtained, in the shape of an +expedient of his own devising. This was what had been said: however, he +might assume on the present occasion, that the faculty of reasoning was +characteristic of the human species; and, this being the case, it +certainly was remarkable that so few persons reasoned well. + +After this introduction, he proceeded to attribute to this defect the +number of religious differences in the world. He said that the most +celebrated questions in religion were but verbal ones; that the +disputants did not know their own meaning, or that of their opponents; +and that a spice of good logic would have put an end to dissensions, +which had troubled the world for centuries,--would have prevented many a +bloody war, many a fierce anathema, many a savage execution, and many a +ponderous folio. He went on to imply that in fact there was no truth or +falsehood in the received dogmas in theology; that they were modes, +neither good nor bad in themselves, but personal, national, or periodic, +in which the intellect reasoned upon the great truths of religion; that +the fault lay, not in holding them, but in insisting on them, which was +like insisting on a Hindoo dressing like a Fin, or a regiment of +dragoons using the boomarang. + +He proceeded to observe, that from what he had said, it was plain in +what point of view the Anglican formularies were to be regarded; viz. +they were _our_ mode of expressing everlasting truths, which might be as +well expressed in other ways, as any correct thinker would be able to +see. Nothing, then, was to be altered in them; they were to be retained +in their integrity; but it was ever to be borne in mind that they were +Anglican theology, not theology in the abstract; and that, though the +Athanasian Creed was good for us, it did not follow that it was good for +our neighbours; rather, that what seemed the very reverse might suit +others better, might be _their_ mode of expressing the same truths. + +He concluded with one word in favour of Nestorius, two for Abelard, +three for Luther, "that great mind," as he worded it, "who saw that +churches, creeds, rites, persons, were nought in religion, and that the +inward spirit, _faith_," as he himself expressed it, "was all in all;" +and with a hint that nothing would go well in the University till this +great principle was so far admitted, as to lead its members--not, +indeed, to give up their own distinctive formularies, no--but to +consider the direct contradictories of them equally pleasing to the +divine Author of Christianity. + +Charles did not understand the full drift of the sermon; but he +understood enough to make him feel that it was different from any sermon +he had heard in his life. He more than doubted, whether, if his good +father had heard it, he would not have made it an exception to his +favourite dictum. He came away marvelling with himself what the preacher +could mean, and whether he had misunderstood him. Did he mean that +Unitarians were only bad reasoners, and might be as good Christians as +orthodox believers? He could mean nothing else. But what if, after all, +he was right? He indulged the thought awhile. "Then every one is what +Sheffield calls a sham, more or less; and there was no reason for being +annoyed at any one. Then I was right originally in wishing to take every +one for what he was. Let me think; every one a sham ... shams are +respectable, or rather no one is respectable. We can't do without some +outward form of belief; one is not truer than another; that is, all are +equally true.... _All_ are true.... That is the better way of taking it; +none are shams, all are true.... All are _true_! impossible! one as true +as another! why then it is as true that our Lord is a mere man, as that +He is God. He could not possibly mean this; what _did_ he mean?" + +So Charles went on, painfully perplexed, yet out of this perplexity two +convictions came upon him, the first of them painful too; that he could +not take for gospel everything that was said, even by authorities of the +place and divines of name; and next, that his former amiable feeling of +taking every one for what he was, was a dangerous one, leading with +little difficulty to a sufferance of every sort of belief, and +legitimately terminating in the sentiment expressed in Pope's Universal +Prayer, which his father had always held up to him as a pattern specimen +of shallow philosophism:-- + + "Father of all, in every age, + In every clime adored, + By saint, by savage, and by sage, + Jehovah, Jove, or Lord." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Charles went up this term for his first examination, and this caused him +to remain in Oxford some days after the undergraduate part of his +college had left for the Long Vacation. Thus he came across Mr. Vincent, +one of the junior tutors, who was kind enough to ask him to dine in +Common-room on Sunday, and on several mornings made him take some turns +with him up and down the Fellows' walk in the college garden. + +A few years make a great difference in the standing of men at Oxford, +and this made Mr. Vincent what is called a don in the eyes of persons +who were very little younger than himself. Besides, Vincent looked much +older than he really was; he was of a full habit, with a florid +complexion and large blue eyes, and showed a deal of linen at his bosom, +and full wristbands at his cuffs. Though a clever man, and a hard reader +and worker, and a capital tutor, he was a good feeder as well; he ate +and drank, he walked and rode, with as much heart as he lectured in +Aristotle, or crammed in Greek plays. What is stranger still, with all +this he was something of a valetudinarian. He had come off from school +on a foundation fellowship, and had the reputation both at school and +in the University of being a first-rate scholar. He was a strict +disciplinarian in his way, had the undergraduates under his thumb, and +having some _bonhomie_ in his composition, was regarded by them with +mingled feelings of fear and good will. They laughed at him, but +carefully obeyed him. Besides this he preached a good sermon, read +prayers with unction, and in his conversation sometimes had even a touch +of evangelical spirituality. The young men even declared they could tell +how much port he had taken in Common-room by the devoutness of his +responses in evening-chapel; and it was on record that once, during the +Confession, he had, in the heat of his contrition, shoved over the huge +velvet cushion in which his elbows were imbedded upon the heads of the +gentlemen commoners who sat under him. + +He had just so much originality of mind as gave him an excuse for being +"his own party" in religion, or what he himself called being "no party +man;" and just so little that he was ever mistaking shams for truths, +and converting pompous nothings into oracles. He was oracular in his +manner, denounced parties and party-spirit, and thought to avoid the one +and the other by eschewing all persons, and holding all opinions. He had +a great idea of the _via media_ being the truth; and to obtain it, +thought it enough to flee from extremes, without having any very +definite mean to flee to. He had not clearness of intellect enough to +pursue a truth to its limits, nor boldness enough to hold it in its +simplicity; but he was always saying things and unsaying them, balancing +his thoughts in impossible attitudes, and guarding his words by +unintelligible limitations. As to the men and opinions of the day and +place, he would in the main have agreed with them, had he let himself +alone; but he was determined to have an intellect of his own, and this +put him to great shifts when he would distinguish himself from them. Had +he been older than they, he would have talked of "young heads," "hot +heads," and the like; but since they were grave and cool men, and outran +him by fourteen or fifteen years, he found nothing better than to shake +his head, mutter against party-spirit, refuse to read their books, lest +he should be obliged to agree with them, and make a boast of avoiding +their society. At the present moment he was on the point of starting for +a continental tour to recruit himself after the labours of an Oxford +year; meanwhile he was keeping hall and chapel open for such men as were +waiting either for Responsions, or for their battel money; and he took +notice of Reding as a clever, modest youth of whom something might be +made. Under this view of him, he had, among other civilities, asked him +to breakfast a day or two before he went down. + +A tutor's breakfast is always a difficult affair both for host and +guests; and Vincent piqued himself on the tact with which he managed it. +The material part was easy enough; there were rolls, toast, muffins, +eggs, cold lamb, strawberries, on the table; and in due season the +college-servant brought in mutton-cutlets and broiled ham; and every one +ate to his heart's, or rather his appetite's, content. It was a more +arduous undertaking to provide the running accompaniment of thought, or +at least of words, without which the breakfast would have been little +better than a pig-trough. The conversation or rather mono-polylogue, as +some great performer calls it, ran in somewhat of the following strain: + +"Mr. Bruton," said Vincent, "what news from Staffordshire? Are the +potteries pretty quiet now? Our potteries grow in importance. You need +not look at the cup and saucer before you, Mr. Catley; those came from +Derbyshire. But you find English crockery everywhere on the Continent. I +myself found half a willow-pattern saucer in the crater of Vesuvius. Mr. +Sikes, I think _you_ have _been_ in Italy?" + +"No, sir," said Sikes; "I was near going; my family set off a fortnight +ago, but I was kept here by these confounded smalls." + +"Your _Responsiones_," answered the tutor in a tone of rebuke; "an +unfortunate delay for you, for it is to be an unusually fine season, if +the meteorologists of the sister University are right in their +predictions. Who is in the Responsion schools, Mr. Sikes?" + +"Butson of Leicester is the strict one, sir; he plucks one man in three. +He plucked last week Patch of St. George's, and Patch has taken his oath +he'll shoot him; and Butson has walked about ever since with a bulldog." + +"These are reports, Mr. Sikes, which often flit about, but must not be +trusted. Mr. Patch could not have given a better proof that his +rejection was deserved." + +A pause--during which poor Vincent hastily gobbled up two or three +mouthfuls of bread and butter, the knives and forks meanwhile clinking +upon his guests' plates. + +"Sir, is it true," began one of his guests at length, "that the old +Principal is going to be married?" + +"These are matters, Mr. Atkins," answered Vincent, "which we should +always inquire about at the fountain-head; _antiquam exquirite matrem_, +or rather _patrem_; ha, ha! Take some more tea, Mr. Reding; it won't +hurt your nerves. I am rather choice in my tea; this comes overland +through Russia; the sea-air destroys the flavour of our common tea. +Talking of air, Mr. Tenby, I think you are a chemist. Have you paid +attention to the recent experiments on the composition and resolution of +air? Not? I am surprised at it; they are well worth your most serious +consideration. It is now pretty well ascertained that inhaling gases is +the cure for all kinds of diseases. People are beginning to talk of the +gas-cure, as they did of the water-cure. The great foreign chemist, +Professor Scaramouch, has the credit of the discovery. The effects are +astounding, quite astounding; and there are several remarkable +coincidences. You know medicines are always unpleasant, and so these +gases are always fetid. The Professor cures by stenches, and has brought +his science to such perfection that he actually can classify them. There +are six elementary stenches, and these spread into a variety of +subdivisions? What do you say, Mr. Reding? Distinctive? Yes, there is +something very distinctive in smells. But what is most gratifying of +all, and is the great coincidence I spoke of, his ultimate resolution of +fetid gases assigns to them the very same precise number as is given to +existing complaints in the latest treatises on pathology. Each complaint +has its gas. And, what is still more singular, an exhausted receiver is +a specific for certain desperate disorders. For instance, it has +effected several cures of hydrophobia. Mr. Seaton," he continued to a +freshman, who, his breakfast finished, was sitting uncomfortably on his +chair, looking down and playing with his knife--"Mr. Seaton, you are +looking at that picture"--it was almost behind Seaton's back--"I don't +wonder at it; it was given me by my good old mother, who died many years +ago. It represents some beautiful Italian scenery." + +Vincent stood up, and his party after him, and all crowded round the +picture. + +"I prefer the green of England," said Reding. + +"England has not that brilliant variety of colour," said Tenby. + +"But there is something so soothing in green." + +"You know, of course, Mr. Reding," said the tutor, "that there is plenty +of green in Italy, and in winter even more than in England; only there +are other colours too." + +"But I can't help fancying," said Charles, "that that mixture of colours +takes off from it the repose of English scenery." + +"The repose, for instance," said Tenby, "of Binsey Common, or Port +Meadow in winter." + +"Say in summer," said Reding; "if you choose place, I will choose time. +I think the University goes down just when Oxford begins to be most +beautiful. The walks and meadows are so fragrant and bright now, the hay +half carried, and the short new grass appearing." + +"Reding ought to live here all through the Long," said Tenby: "does any +one live through the Vacation, sir, in Oxford?" + +"Do you mean they die before the end of it, Mr. Tenby?" asked Vincent. +"It can't be denied," he continued, "that many, like Mr. Reding, think +it a most pleasant time. _I_ am fond of Oxford; but it is not my +_habitat_ out of term-time." + +"Well, I think I should like to make it so," said Charles, "but, I +suppose, undergraduates are not allowed." + +Mr. Vincent answered with more than necessary gravity, "No;" it rested +with the Principal; but he conceived that he would not consent to it. +Vincent added that certainly there _were_ parties who remained in Oxford +through the Long Vacation. It was said mysteriously. + +Charles answered that, if it was against college rules, there was no +help for it; else, were he reading for his degree, he should like +nothing better than to pass the Long Vacation in Oxford, if he might +judge by the pleasantness of the last ten days. + +"That is a compliment, Mr. Reding, to your company," said Vincent. + +At this moment the door opened, and in came the manciple with the dinner +paper, which Mr. Vincent had formally to run his eye over. "Watkins," he +said, giving it back to him, "I almost think to-day is one of the Fasts +of the Church. Go and look, Watkins, and bring me word." + +The astonished manciple, who had never been sent on such a commission in +his whole career before, hastened out of the room, to task his wits how +best to fulfil it. The question seemed to strike the company as +forcibly, for there was a sudden silence, which was succeeded by a +shuffling of feet and a leave-taking; as if, though they had secured +their ham and mutton at breakfast, they did not like to risk their +dinner. Watkins returned sooner than could have been expected. He said +that Mr. Vincent was right; to-day he had found was "the feast of the +Apostles." + +"The Vigil of St. Peter, you mean, Watkins," said Mr. Vincent; "I +thought so. Then let us have a plain beefsteak and a saddle of mutton; +no Portugal onions, Watkins, or currant-jelly; and some simple pudding, +Charlotte pudding, Watkins--that will do." + +Watkins vanished. By this time, Charles found himself alone with the +college authority; who began to speak to him in a more confidential +tone. + +"Mr. Reding," said he, "I did not like to question you before the +others, but I conceive you had no particular _meaning_ in your praise of +Oxford in the Long Vacation? In the mouths of some it would have been +suspicious." + +Charles was all surprise. + +"To tell the truth, Mr. Reding, as things stand," he proceeded, "it is +often a mark of _party_, this residence in the Vacation; though, of +course, there is nothing in the _thing_ itself but what is perfectly +natural and right." + +Charles was all attention. + +"My good sir," the tutor proceeded, "avoid parties; be sure to avoid +party. You are young in your career among us. I always feel anxious +about young men of talent; there is the greatest danger of the talent +of the University being absorbed in party." + +Reding expressed a hope that nothing he had done had given cause to his +tutor's remark. + +"No," replied Mr. Vincent, "no;" yet with some slight hesitation; "no, I +don't know that it has. But I have thought some of your remarks and +questions at lecture were like a person pushing things _too far_, and +wishing to form a _system_." + +Charles was so much taken aback by the charge, that the unexplained +mystery of the Long Vacation went out of his head. He said he was "very +sorry," and "obliged;" and tried to recollect what he could have said to +give ground to Mr. Vincent's remark. Not being able at the moment to +recollect, he went on. "I assure you, sir, I know so little of parties +in the place, that I hardly know their leaders. I have heard persons +mentioned, but, if I tried, I think I should, in some cases, mismatch +names and opinions." + +"I believe it," said Vincent; "but you are young; I am cautioning you +against _tendencies_. You may suddenly find yourself absorbed before you +know where you are." + +Charles thought this a good opportunity of asking some questions in +detail, about points which puzzled him. He asked whether Dr. Brownside +was considered a safe divine to follow. + +"I hold, d'ye see," answered Vincent, "that all errors are counterfeits +of truth. Clever men say true things, Mr. Reding, true in their +substance, but," sinking his voice to a whisper, "they go _too far_. It +might even be shown that all sects are in one sense but parts of the +Catholic Church. I don't say true parts, that is a further question; but +they _embody_ great _principles_. The Quakers represent the principle of +simplicity and evangelical poverty; they even have a dress of their own, +like monks. The Independents represent the rights of the laity; the +Wesleyans cherish the devotional principle; the Irvingites, the +symbolical and mystical; the High Church party, the principle of +obedience; the Liberals are the guardians of reason. No party, then, I +conceive, is entirely right or entirely wrong. As to Dr. Brownside, +there certainly have been various opinions entertained about his +divinity; still, he is an able man, and I think you will gain _good_, +gain _good_ from his teaching. But mind, I don't _recommend_ him; yet I +respect him, and I consider that he says many things very well worth +your attention. I would advise you, then, to accept the _good_ which his +sermons offer, without committing yourself to the _bad_. That, depend +upon it, Mr. Reding, is the golden though the obvious rule in these +matters." + +Charles said, in answer, that Mr. Vincent was overrating his powers; +that he had to learn before he could judge; and that he wished very much +to know whether Vincent could recommend him any book, in which he might +see at once _what_ the true Church-of-England doctrine was on a number +of points which perplexed him. + +Mr. Vincent replied, he must be on his guard against dissipating his +mind with such reading, at a time when his University duties had a +definite claim upon him. He ought to avoid all controversies of the +day, all authors of the day. He would advise him to read _no_ living +authors. "Read dead authors alone," he continued; "dead authors are +safe. Our great divines," and he stood upright, "were models; 'there +were giants on the earth in those days,' as King George the Third had +once said of them to Dr. Johnson. They had that depth, and power, and +gravity, and fulness, and erudition; and they were so racy, always racy, +and what might be called English. They had that richness, too, such a +mine of thought, such a world of opinion, such activity of mind, such +inexhaustible resource, such diversity, too. Then they were so eloquent; +the majestic Hooker, the imaginative Taylor, the brilliant Hall, the +learning of Barrow, the strong sense of South, the keen logic of +Chillingworth, good, honest old Burnet," etc., etc. + +There did not seem much reason why he should stop at one moment more +than another; at length, however, he did stop. It was prose, but it was +pleasant prose to Charles; he knew just enough about these writers to +feel interested in hearing them talked about, and to him Vincent seemed +to be saying a good deal, when in fact he was saying very little. When +he stopped, Charles said he believed that there were persons in the +University who were promoting the study of these authors. + +Mr. Vincent looked grave. "It is true," he said; "but, my young friend, +I have already hinted to you that indifferent things are perverted to +the purposes of _party_. At this moment the names of some of our +greatest divines are little better than a watchword by which the +opinions of living individuals are signified." + +"Which opinions, I suppose," Charles answered, "are not to be found in +those authors." + +"I'll not say that," said Mr. Vincent. "I have the greatest respect for +the individuals in question, and I am not denying that they have done +good to our Church by drawing attention in this lax day to the old +Church-of-England divinity. But it is one thing to agree with these +gentlemen; another," laying his hand on Charles's shoulder, "another to +belong to their party. Do not make man your master; get good from all; +think well of all persons, and you will be a wise man." + +Reding inquired, with some timidity, if this was not something like what +Dr. Brownside had said in the University pulpit; but perhaps the latter +advocated a toleration of opinions in a different sense? Mr. Vincent +answered rather shortly, that he had not heard Dr. Brownside's sermon; +but, for himself, he had been speaking only of persons in our own +communion. + +"Our Church," he said, "admitted of great liberty of thought within her +pale. Even our greatest divines differed from each other in many +respects; nay, Bishop Taylor differed from himself. It was a great +principle in the English Church. Her true children agree to differ. In +truth," he continued, "there is that robust, masculine, noble +independence in the English mind, which refuses to be tied down to +artificial shapes, but is like, I will say, some great and beautiful +production of nature,--a tree, which is rich in foliage and fantastic +in limb, no sickly denizen of the hothouse, or helpless dependent of +the garden wall, but in careless magnificence sheds its fruits upon the +free earth, for the bird of the air and the beast of the field, and all +sorts of cattle, to eat thereof and rejoice." + +When Charles came away, he tried to think what he had gained by his +conversation with Mr. Vincent; not exactly what he had wanted, some +practical rules to guide his mind and keep him steady; but still some +useful hints. He had already been averse to parties, and offended at +what he saw of individuals attached to them. Vincent had confirmed him +in his resolution to keep aloof from them, and to attend to his duties +in the place. He felt pleased to have had this talk with him; but what +could he mean by suspecting a tendency in himself to push things too +far, and thereby to implicate himself in party? He was obliged to resign +himself to ignorance on the subject, and to be content with keeping a +watch over himself in future. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +No opportunity has occurred of informing the reader that, during the +last week or two, Charles had accidentally been a good deal thrown +across Willis, the _umbra_ of White at Bateman's breakfast-party. He had +liked his looks on that occasion, when he was dumb; he did not like him +so much when he heard him talk; still he could not help being interested +in him, and not the least for this reason, that Willis seemed to have +taken a great fancy to himself. He certainly did court Charles, and +seemed anxious to stand well with him. Charles, however, did not like +his mode of talking better than he did White's; and when he first saw +his rooms, there was much in them which shocked both his good sense and +his religious principles. A large ivory crucifix, in a glass case, was a +conspicuous ornament between the windows; an engraving, representing the +Blessed Trinity, as is usual in Catholic countries, hung over the +fireplace, and a picture of the Madonna and St. Dominic was opposite to +it. On the mantelpiece were a rosary, a thuribulum, and other tokens of +Catholicism, of which Charles did not know the uses; a missal, ritual, +and some Catholic tracts, lay on the table; and, as he happened to come +on Willis unexpectedly, he found him sitting in a vestment more like a +cassock than a reading-gown, and engaged upon some portion of the +Breviary. Virgil and Sophocles, Herodotus and Cicero seemed, as impure +pagans, to have hid themselves in corners, or flitted away, before the +awful presence of the Ancient Church. Charles had taken upon himself to +protest against some of these singularities, but without success. + +On the evening before his departure for the country he had occasion to +go towards Folly Bridge to pay a bill, when he was startled, as he +passed what he had ever taken for a dissenting chapel, to see Willis +come out of it. He hardly could believe he saw correctly; he knew, +indeed, that Willis had been detained in Oxford, as he had been himself; +but what had compelled him to a visit so extraordinary as that which he +had just made, Charles had no means of determining. + +"Willis!" he cried, as he stopped. + +Willis coloured, and tried to look easy. + +"Do come a few paces with me," said Charles. "What in the world has +taken you there? Is it not a dissenting meeting?" + +"Dissenting meeting!" cried Willis, surprised and offended in his turn: +"what on earth could make you think I would go to a dissenting meeting?" + +"Well, I beg your pardon," said Charles; "I recollect now: it's the +exhibition room. However, _once_ it _was_ a chapel: that's my mistake. +Isn't it what is called 'the Old Methodist Chapel?' I never was there; +they showed there the _Dio-astro-doxon_, so I think they called it." +Charles talked on, to cover his own mistake, for he was ashamed of the +charge he had made. + +Willis did not know whether he was in jest or earnest. "Reding," he +said, "don't go on; you offend me." + +"Well, what is it?" said Charles. + +"You know well enough," answered Willis, "though you wish to annoy me." + +"I don't indeed." + +"It's the Catholic church," said Willis. + +Reding was silent a moment; then he said, "Well, I don't think you have +mended the matter; it _is_ a dissenting meeting, call it what you will, +though not the kind of one I meant." + +"What can you mean?" asked Willis. + +"Rather, what mean _you_ by going to such places?" retorted Charles; +"why, it is against your oath." + +"My oath! what oath?" + +"There's not an oath now; but there was an oath till lately," said +Reding; "and we still make a very solemn engagement. Don't you recollect +your matriculation at the Vice-Chancellor's, and what oaths and +declarations you made?" + +"I don't know what I made: my tutor told me nothing about it. I signed a +book or two." + +"You did more," said Reding. "I was told most carefully. You solemnly +engaged to keep the statutes; and one statute is, not to go into any +dissenting chapel or meeting whatever." + +"Catholics are not Dissenters," said Willis. + +"Oh, don't speak so," said Charles; "you know it's meant to include +them. The statute wishes us to keep from all places of worship whatever +but our own." + +"But it is an illegal declaration or vow," said Willis, "and so not +binding." + +"Where did you find that get-off?" said Charles; "the priest put that +into your head." + +"I don't know the priest; I never spoke a word to him," answered Willis. + +"Well, any how, it's not your own answer," said Reding; "and does not +help you. I am no casuist; but if it is an illegal engagement you should +not continue to enjoy the benefit of it." + +"What benefit?" + +"Your cap and gown; a university education; the chance of a scholarship +or fellowship. Give up these, and then plead, if you will, and lawfully, +that you are quit of your engagement; but don't sail under false +colours: don't take the benefit and break the stipulation." + +"You take it too seriously; there are half a hundred statutes _you_ +don't keep, any more than I. You are most inconsistent." + +"Well, if we don't keep them," said Charles, "I suppose it is in points +where the authorities don't enforce them; for instance, they don't mean +us to dress in brown, though the statutes order it." + +"But they _do_ mean to keep you from walking down High Street in +beaver," answered Willis; "for the Proctors march up and down, and send +you back, if they catch you." + +"But _this_ is a different matter," said Reding, changing his ground; +"this is a matter of religion. It can't be right to go to strange places +of worship or meetings." + +"Why," said Willis, "if we are one Church with the Roman Catholics, I +can't make out for the life of me how it's wrong for us to go to them or +them to us." + +"I'm no divine, I don't understand what is meant by one Church," said +Charles; "but I know well that there's not a bishop, not a clergyman, +not a sober churchman in the land but would give it against you. It's a +sheer absurdity." + +"Don't talk in that way," answered Willis, "please don't. I feel all my +heart drawn to the Catholic worship; our own service is so cold." + +"That's just what every stiff Dissenter says," answered Charles; "every +poor cottager, too, who knows no better, and goes after the +Methodists--after her dear Mr. Spoutaway or the preaching cobbler. _She_ +says (I have heard them), 'Oh, sir, I suppose we ought to go where we +get most good. Mr. So-and-so goes to my heart--he goes through me.'" + +Willis laughed; "Well, not a bad reason, as times go, _I_ think," said +he: "poor souls, what better means of judging have they? how can you +hope they will like 'the Scripture moveth us'? Really you are making too +much of it. This is only the second time I have been there, and, I tell +you in earnest, I find my mind filled with awe and devotion there; as I +think you would too. I really am better for it; I cannot pray in church; +there's a bad smell there, and the pews hide everything; I can't see +through a deal board. But here, when I went in, I found all still, and +calm, the space open, and, in the twilight, the Tabernacle just visible, +pointed out by the lamp." + +Charles looked very uncomfortable. "Really, Willis," he said, "I don't +know what to say to you. Heaven forbid that I should speak against the +Roman Catholics; I know nothing about them. But _this_ I know, that you +are not a Roman Catholic, and have no business there. If they have such +sacred things among them as those you allude to, still these are not +yours; you are an intruder. I know nothing about it; I don't like to +give a judgment, I am sure. But it's a tampering with sacred things; +running here and there, touching and tasting, taking up, putting down. I +don't like it," he added, with vehemence; "it's taking liberties with +God." + +"Oh, my dear Reding, please don't speak so very severely," said poor +Willis; "now what have I done more than you would do yourself, were you +in France or Italy? Do you mean to say you wouldn't enter the churches +abroad?" + +"I will only decide about what is before me," answered Reding; "when I +go abroad, then will be the time to think about your question. It is +quite enough to know what we ought to do at the moment, and I am clear +you have been doing wrong. How did you find your way there?" + +"White took me." + +"Then there is one man in the world more thoughtless than you: do many +of the gownsmen go there?" + +"Not that I know of; one or two have gone from curiosity; there is no +practice of going, at least this is what I am told." + +"Well," said Charles, "you must promise me you will not go again. Come, +we won't part till you do." + +"That is too much," said Willis, gently; then, disengaging his arm from +Reding's, he suddenly darted away from him, saying, "Good-bye, good-bye; +to our next merry meeting--_au revoir_." + +There was no help for it. Charles walked slowly home, saying to himself: +"What if, after all, the Roman Catholic Church is the true Church? I +wish I knew what to believe; no one will tell me what to believe; I am +so left to myself." Then he thought: "I suppose I know quite enough for +practice--more than I _do_ practise; and I ought surely to be contented +and thankful." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Charles was an affectionate son, and the Long Vacation passed very +happily at home. He was up early, and read steadily till luncheon, and +then he was at the service of his father, mother, and sisters for the +rest of the day. He loved the calm, quiet country; he loved the +monotonous flow of time, when each day is like the other; and, after the +excitement of Oxford, the secluded parsonage was like a haven beyond the +tossing of the waves. The whirl of opinions and perplexities which had +encircled him at Oxford now were like the distant sound of the +ocean--they reminded him of his present security. The undulating +meadows, the green lanes, the open heath, the common with its +wide-spreading dusky elms, the high timber which fringed the level path +from village to village, ever and anon broken and thrown into groups, or +losing itself in copses--even the gate, and the stile, and the +turnpike-road had the charm, not of novelty, but of long familiar use; +they had the poetry of many recollections. Nor was the dilapidated, +deformed church, with its outside staircases, its unsightly galleries, +its wide intruded windows, its uncouth pews, its low nunting table, its +forlorn vestry, and its damp earthy smell, without its pleasant +associations to the inner man; for there it was that for many a year, +Sunday after Sunday, he had heard his dear father read and preach; there +were the old monuments, with Latin inscriptions and strange devices, the +black boards with white letters, the Resurgams and grinning skulls, the +fire-buckets, the faded militia-colours, and, almost as much a fixture, +the old clerk, with a Welsh wig over his ears, shouting the responses +out of place--which had arrested his imagination, and awed him when a +child. And then there was his home itself; its well-known rooms, its +pleasant routine, its order, and its comfort--an old and true friend, +the dearer to him because he had made new ones. "Where I shall be in +time to come I know not," he said to himself; "I am but a boy; many +things which I have not a dream of, which my imagination cannot compass, +may come on me before I die--if I live; but here at least, and now, I am +happy, and I will enjoy my happiness. Some say that school is the +pleasantest time of one's life; this does not exclude college. I suppose +care is what makes life so wearing. At present I have no care, no +responsibility; I suppose I shall feel a little when I go up for my +degree. Care is a terrible thing; I have had a little of it at times at +school. What a strange thing to fancy, I shall be one day twenty-five or +thirty! How the weeks are flying by! the Vacation will soon be over. Oh, +I am so happy, it quite makes me afraid. Yet I shall have strength for +my day." + +Sometimes, however, his thoughts took a sadder turn, and he anticipated +the future more vividly than he enjoyed the present. Mr. Malcolm had +come to see them, after an absence from the parsonage for several years: +his visit was a great pleasure to Mr. Reding, and not much less to +himself, to whom a green home and a family circle were agreeable sights, +after his bachelor-life at college. He had been a great favourite with +Charles and his sisters as children, though now his popularity with them +for the most part rested on the memory of the past. When he told them +amusing stories, or allowed them to climb his knee and take off his +spectacles, he did all that was necessary to gain their childish hearts; +more is necessary to conciliate the affection of young men and women; +and thus it is not surprising that he lived in their minds principally +by prescription. He neither knew this, nor would have thought much about +it if he had; for, like many persons of advancing years, he made himself +very much his own centre, did not care to enter into the minds of +others, did not consult for them, or find his happiness in them. He was +kind and friendly to the young people, as he would be kind to a +canary-bird or a lap-dog; it was a sort of external love; and, though +they got on capitally with him, they did not miss him when gone, nor +would have been much troubled to know that he was never to come again. +Charles drove him about the country, stamped his letters, secured him +his newspapers from the neighbouring town, and listened to his stories +about Oxford and Oxford men. He really liked him, and wished to please +him; but, as to consulting him in any serious matter, or going to him +for comfort in affliction, he would as soon have thought of betaking him +to Dan the pedlar, or old Isaac who played the Sunday bassoon. + +"How have your peaches been this year, Malcolm?" said Mr. Reding one day +after dinner to his guest. + +"You ought to know that we have no peaches in Oxford," answered Mr. +Malcolm. + +"My memory plays me false, then: I had a vision of, at least, October +peaches on one occasion, and fine ones too." + +"Ah, you mean at old Tom Spindle's, the jockey's," answered Mr. Malcolm; +"it's true, he had a bit of a brick wall, and was proud of it. But +peaches come when there is no one in Oxford to eat them; so either the +tree, or at least the fruit, is a great rarity there. Oxford wasn't so +empty once; you have old mulberry-trees there in record of better days." + +"At that time, too," said Charles, "I suppose, the more expensive fruits +were not cultivated. Mulberries are the witness, not only of a full +college, but of simple tastes." + +"Charles is secretly cutting at our hothouse here," said Mr. Reding; "as +if our first father did not prefer fruits and flowers to beef and +mutton." + +"No, indeed," said Charles, "I think peaches capital things; and as to +flowers, I am even too fond of scents." + +"Charles has some theory, then, about scents, I'll be bound," said his +father; "I never knew a boy who so placed his likings and dislikings on +fancies. He began to eat olives directly he read the OEdipus of +Sophocles; and, I verily believe, will soon give up oranges from his +dislike to King William." + +"Every one does so," said Charles: "who would not be in the fashion? +There's Aunt Kitty, she calls a bonnet, 'a sweet' one year, which makes +her 'a perfect fright' the next." + +"You're right, papa, in this instance," said his mother; "I know he has +some good reason, though I never can recollect it, why he smells a rose, +or distils lavender. What is it, my dear Mary?" + +"'Relics ye are of Eden's bowers,'" said she. + +"Why, sir, that was precisely your own reason just now," said Charles to +his father. + +"There's more than that," said Mrs. Reding, "if I knew what it was." + +"He thinks the scent more intellectual than the other senses," said +Mary, smiling. + +"Such a boy for paradoxes!" said his mother. + +"Well, so it is in a certain way," said Charles, "but I can't explain. +Sounds and scents are more ethereal, less material; they have no +shape--like the angels." + +Mr. Malcolm laughed. "Well, I grant it, Charles," he said; "they are +length without breadth!" + +"Did you ever hear the like?" said Mrs. Reding, laughing too; "don't +encourage him, Mr. Malcolm; you are worse than he. Angels length without +breadth!" + +"They pass from place to place, they come, they go," continued Mr. +Malcolm. + +"They conjure up the past so vividly," said Charles. + +"But sounds surely more than scents," said Mr. Malcolm. + +"Pardon me; the reverse as _I_ think," answered Charles. + +"That _is_ a paradox, Charles," said Mr. Malcolm; "the smell of +roast-beef never went further than to remind a man of dinner; but sounds +are pathetic and inspiring." + +"Well, sir, but think of this," said Charles, "scents are complete in +themselves, yet do not consist of parts. Think how very distinct the +smell of a rose is from a pink, a pink from a sweet-pea, a sweet-pea +from a stock, a stock from lilac, lilac from lavender, lavender from +jasmine, jasmine from honeysuckle, honeysuckle from hawthorn, hawthorn +from hyacinth, hyacinth"---- + +"Spare us," interrupted Mr. Malcolm; "you are going through the index of +Loudon!" + +"And these are only the scents of flowers; how different flowers smell +from fruits, fruits from spices, spices from roast-beef or pork-cutlets, +and so on. Now, what I was coming to is this--these scents are perfectly +distinct from each other, and _sui generis_; they never can be confused; +yet each is communicated to the apprehension in an instant. Sights take +up a great space, a tune is a succession of sounds; but scents are at +once specific and complete, yet indivisible. Who can halve a scent? they +need neither time nor space; thus they are immaterial or spiritual." + +"Charles hasn't been to Oxford for nothing," said his mother, laughing +and looking at Mary; "this is what I call chopping logic!" + +"Well done, Charles," cried Mr. Malcolm; "and now, since you have such +clear notions of the power of smells, you ought, like the man in the +story, to be satisfied with smelling at your dinner, and grow fat upon +it. It's a shame you sit down to table." + +"Well, sir," answered Charles, "some people _do_ seem to thrive on snuff +at least." + +"For shame, Charles!" said Mr. Malcolm; "you have seen me use the +common-room snuff-box to keep myself awake after dinner; but nothing +more. I keep a box in my pocket merely as a bauble--it was a present. +You should have lived when I was young. There was old Dr. Troughton of +Nun's Hall, he carried his snuff loose in his pocket; and old Mrs. +Vice-Principal Daffy used to lay a train along her arm, and fire it with +her nose. Doctors of medicine took it as a preservative against +infection, and doctors of divinity against drowsiness in church." + +"They take wine against infection now," said Mr. Reding; "it's a much +surer protective." + +"Wine?" cried Mr. Malcolm; "oh, they didn't take less wine then, as you +and I know. On certain solemn occasions they made a point of getting +drunk, the whole college, from the Vice-Principal or Sub-Warden down to +the scouts. Heads of houses were kept in order by their wives; but I +assure you the jolly god came _very_ near Mr. Vice-Chancellor himself. +There was old Dr. Sturdy of St. Michael's, a great martinet in his time. +One day the King passed through Oxford; Sturdy, a tall, upright, +iron-faced man, had to meet him in procession at Magdalen Bridge, and +walked down with his pokers before him, gold and silver, vergers, cocked +hats, and the rest. There wasn't one of them that wasn't in liquor. +Think of the good old man's horror, Majesty in the distance, and his own +people swaying to and fro under his very nose, and promising to leave +him for the gutter before the march was ended." + +"No one can get tipsy with snuff, I grant," said Mr. Reding; "but if +wine has done some men harm it has done others a deal of good." + +"Hair-powder is as bad as snuff," said Mary, preferring the former +subject; "there's old Mr. Butler of Cooling, his wig is so large and +full of powder that when he nods his head I am sure to sneeze." + +"Ah, but all these are accidents, young lady," said Mr. Malcolm, put out +by this block to the conversation, and running off somewhat testily in +another direction; "accidents after all. Old people are always the same; +so are young. Each age has its own fashion: if Mr. Butler wore no wig, +still there would be something about him odd and strange to young eyes. +Charles, don't you be an old bachelor. No one cares for old people. +Marry, my dear boy; look out betimes for a virtuous young woman, who +will make you an attentive wife." + +Charles slightly coloured, and his sister laughed as if there was some +understanding between them. + +Mr. Malcolm continued: "Don't wait till you want some one to buy flannel +for your rheumatism or gout; marry betimes." + +"You will let me take my degree first, sir?" said Charles. + +"Certainly, take your M.A.'s if you will; but don't become an old +Fellow. Don't wait till forty; people make the strangest mistakes." + +"Dear Charles will make a kind and affectionate husband, I am sure," +said his mother, "when the time comes; and come it will, though not just +yet. Yes, my dear boy," she added, nodding at him, "you will not be able +to escape your destiny, when it comes." + +"Charles, you must know," said Mr. Reding to his guest, "is romantic in +his notions just now. I believe it is that he thinks no one good enough +for him. Oh, my dear Charlie, don't let me pain you, I meant nothing +serious; but somehow he has not hit it off very well with some young +ladies here, who expected more attention than he cared to give." + +"I am sure," said Mary, "Charles is most attentive whenever there is +occasion, and always has his eyes about him to do a service; only he's a +bad hand at small-talk." + +"All will come in time, my dear," said his mother; "a good son makes a +good husband." + +"And a very loving papa," said Mr. Malcolm. + +"Oh, spare me, sir," said poor Charles; "how have I deserved this?" + +"Well," proceeded Mr. Malcolm, "and young ladies ought to marry betimes +too." + +"Come, Mary, _your_ turn is coming," cried Charles; and taking his +sister's hand, he threw up the sash, and escaped with her into the +garden. + +They crossed the lawn, and took refuge in a shrubbery. "How strange it +is!" said Mary, as they strolled along the winding walk; "we used to +like Mr. Malcolm so, as children; but now--I like him _still_, but he is +not the same." + +"We are older," said her brother; "different things take us now." + +"He used to be so kind," continued she; "when he was coming, the day was +looked out for; and mamma said, 'Take care you be good when Mr. Malcolm +comes.' And he was sure to bring a twelfth-cake, or a Noah's ark, or +something of the sort. And then he romped with us, and let us make fun +of him." + +"Indeed it isn't he that is changed," said Charles, "but we; we are in +the time of life to change; we have changed already, and shall change +still." + +"What a mercy it is," said his sister, "that we are so happy among +ourselves as a family! If we change, we shall change together, as apples +of one stock; if one fails, the other does. Thus we are always the same +to each other." + +"It is a mercy, indeed," said Charles; "we are so blest that I am +sometimes quite frightened." + +His sister looked earnestly at him. He laughed a little to turn off the +edge of his seriousness. "You would know what I mean, dear Mary, if you +had read Herodotus. A Greek tyrant feared his own excessive prosperity, +and therefore made a sacrifice to fortune. I mean, he gave up something +which he held most precious; he took a ring from his finger and cast it +into the sea, lest the Deity should afflict him, if he did not afflict +himself." + +"My dear Charles," she answered, "if we do but enjoy God's gifts +thankfully, and take care not to set our hearts on them or to abuse +them, we need not fear for their continuance." + +"Well," said Charles, "there's one text which has ever dwelt on my mind, +'Rejoice with trembling.' I can't take full, unrestrained pleasure in +anything." + +"Why not, if you look at it as God's gift?" asked Mary. + +"I don't defend it," he replied; "it's my way; it may be a selfish +prudence, for what I know; but I am sure that, did I give my heart to +any creature, I should be withdrawing it from God. How easily could I +idolize these sweet walks, which we have known for so many years!" + +They walked on in silence. "Well," said Mary, "whatever we lose, no +change can affect us as a family. While we are we, we are to each other +what nothing external can be to us, whether as given or as taken away." + +Charles made no answer. + +"What has come to you, dear Charles?" she said, stopping and looking at +him; then, gently removing his hair and smoothing his forehead, she +said, "you are so sad to-day." + +"Dearest Mary," he made answer, "nothing's the matter, indeed. I think +it is Mr. Malcolm who has put me out. It's so stupid to talk of the +prospects of a boy like me. Don't look so, I mean nothing; only it +annoys me." + +Mary smiled. + +"What I mean is," continued Charles, "that we can rely on nothing here, +and are fools if we build on the future." + +"We can rely on each other," she repeated. + +"Ah, dear Mary, don't say so; it frightens me." + +She looked round at him surprised, and almost frightened herself. + +"Dearest," he continued, "I mean nothing; only everything is so +uncertain here below." + +"We are sure of each other, Charles." + +"Yes, Mary," and he kissed her affectionately, "it is true, most true;" +then he added, "all I meant was that it seems presumptuous to say so. +David and Jonathan were parted; St. Paul and St. Barnabas." + +Tears stood in Mary's eyes. + +"Oh, what an ass I am," he said, "for thus teasing you about nothing; +no, I only mean that there is One _only_ who cannot die, who never +changes, only One. It can't be wrong to remember this. Do you recollect +Cowper's beautiful lines? I know them without having learned them--they +struck me so much the first time I read them;" and he repeated them:-- + + Thou art the source and centre of all minds, + Their only point of rest, Eternal Word. + From Thee departing, they are lost, and rove + At random, without honour, hope, or peace. + From Thee is all that soothes the life of man, + His high endeavour and his glad success, + His strength to suffer and his will to serve. + But oh, Thou Sovereign Giver of all good, + Thou art of all Thy gifts Thyself the crown; + Give what Thou canst, without Thee we are poor, + And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +October came at length, and with it Charles's thoughts were turned again +to Oxford. One or two weeks passed by; then a few days; and it was time +to be packing. His father parted with him with even greater emotion than +when he first went to school. He would himself drive him in the phaeton +to the neighbouring town, from which the omnibus ran to the railroad, +though he had the gout flying about him; and when the moment for parting +came he could not get himself to give up his hand, as if he had +something to say which he could not recollect or master. + +"Well, Christmas will soon come," he said; "we must part, it's no use +delaying it. Write to us soon, dear boy; and tell us all about yourself +and your matters. Tell us about your friends; they are nice young men +apparently: but I have great confidence in your prudence; you have more +prudence than some of them. Your tutor seems a valuable man, from what +you tell me," he went on repeating what had passed between him and +Charles many times before; "a sound, well-judging man, that Mr. Vincent. +Sheffield is too clever; he is young; you have an older head. It's no +good my going on; I have said all this before; and you may be late for +the train. Well, God bless you, my dearest Charlie, and make you a +blessing. May you be happier and better than your father! I have ever +been blest all my life long--wonderfully blest. Blessings have been +poured on me from my youth, far above my deserts; may they be doubled +upon you! Good-bye, my beloved Charles, good-bye!" + +Charles had to pass a day or two at the house of a relative who lived a +little way out of London. While he was there a letter arrived for him, +forwarded from home; it was from Willis, dated from London, and +announced that he had come to a very important decision, and should not +return to Oxford. Charles was fairly in the world again, plunged into +the whirl of opinions: how sad a contrast to his tranquil home! There +was no mistaking what the letter meant; and he set out at once with the +chance of finding the writer at the house from which he dated it. It was +a lodging at the west-end of town; and he reached it about noon. + +He found Willis in company with a person apparently two or three years +older. Willis started on seeing him. + +"Who would have thought! what brings you here?" he said; "I thought you +were in the country." Then to his companion, "This is the friend I was +speaking to you about, Morley. A happy meeting; sit down, dear Reding; I +have much to tell you." + +Charles sat down all suspense, looking at Willis with such keen anxiety +that the latter was forced to cut the matter short. "Reding, I am a +Catholic." + +Charles threw himself back in his chair, and turned pale. + +"My dear Reding, what is the matter with you? why don't you speak to +me?" + +Charles was still silent; at last, stooping forward, with his elbows on +his knees, and his head on his hands, he said, in a low voice, "O +Willis, what have you done!" + +"Done?" said Willis; "what _you_ should do, and half Oxford besides. O +Reding, I'm so happy!" + +"Alas, alas!" said Charles; "but what is the good of my staying?--all +good attend you, Willis; good-bye!" + +"No, my good Reding, you don't leave me so soon, having found me so +unexpectedly; and you have had a long walk, I dare say; sit down, +there's a good fellow; we shall have luncheon soon, and you must not go +without taking your part in it." He took Charles's hat from him, as he +spoke; and Charles, in a mixture of feelings, let him have his way. + +"O Willis, so you have separated yourself from us for ever!" he said; +"you have taken your course, we keep ours: our paths are different." + +"Not so," said Willis; "you must follow me, and we shall be one still." + +Charles was half offended; "Really I must go," he said, and he rose; +"you must not talk in that manner." + +"Pray, forgive me," answered Willis; "I won't do so again; but I could +not help it; I am not in a common state, I'm so happy!" + +A thought struck Reding. "Tell me, Willis," he said, "your exact +position; in what sense are you a Catholic? What is to prevent your +returning with me to Oxford?" + +His companion interposed: "I am taking a liberty perhaps," he said; "but +Mr. Willis has been regularly received into the Catholic Church." + +"I have not introduced you," said Willis. "Reding, let me introduce Mr. +Morley; Morley, Mr. Reding. Yes, Reding, I owe it to him that I am a +Catholic. I have been on a tour with him abroad. We met with a good +priest in France, who consented to receive my abjuration." + +"Well, I think he might profitably have examined into your state of mind +a little before he did so," said Reding; "_you_ are not the person to +become a Catholic, Willis." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Because," answered Reding, "you are more of a Dissenter than a +Catholic. I beg your pardon," he added, seeing Willis look up sharply, +"let me be frank with you, pray do. You were attached to the Church of +Rome, not as a child to a mother, but in a wayward roving way, as a +matter of fancy or liking, or (excuse me) as a greedy boy to something +nice; and you pursued your object by disobeying the authorities set over +you." + +It was as much as Willis could bear; he said, he thought he recollected +a text about "obeying God _rather_ than men." + +"I _see_ you have disobeyed men," retorted Charles; "I _trust_ you have +been obeying God." + +Willis thought him rude, and would not speak. + +Mr. Morley began: "If you knew the circumstances better," he said, "you +would doubtless judge differently. I consider Mr. Willis to be just the +very person on whom it was incumbent to join the Church, and who will +make an excellent Catholic. You must blame, not the venerable priest who +received him, but me. The good man saw his devotion, his tears, his +humility, his earnest desire; but the state of his mind he learned +through me, who speak French better than Mr. Willis. However, he had +quite enough conversation with him in French and Latin. He could not +reject a postulant for salvation; it was impossible. Had you been he, +you would have done the same." + +"Well, sir, perhaps I have been unjust to him and you," said Charles; +"however, I cannot augur well of this." + +"You are judging, sir," answered Mr. Morley, "let me say it, of things +you do not know. You do not know what the Catholic religion is, you do +not know what its grace is, or the gift of faith." + +The speaker was a layman; he spoke with earnestness the more intense, +because quiet. Charles felt himself reproved by his manner; his good +taste suggested to him that he had been too vehement in the presence of +a stranger; yet he did not feel the less confidence in his cause. He +paused before he answered; then he said briefly, that he was aware that +he did not know the Roman Catholic religion, but he knew Mr. Willis. He +could not help giving his opinion that good would not come of it. + +"_I_ have ever been a Catholic," said Mr. Morley; "so far I cannot judge +of members of the Church of England; but this I know, that the Catholic +Church is the only true Church. I may be wrong in many things; I cannot +be wrong in this. This too I know, that the Catholic faith is one, and +that no other Church has faith. The Church of England has no faith. You, +my dear sir, have not faith." + +This was a home-thrust; the controversies of Oxford passed before +Reding's mind; but he instantly recovered himself. "You cannot expect," +said he, smiling, "that I, almost a boy, should be able to argue with +yourself, or to defend my Church or to explain her faith. I am content +to hold that faith, to hold what she holds, without professing to be a +divine. This is the doctrine which I have been taught at Oxford. I am +under teaching there, I am not yet taught. Excuse me, then, if I decline +an argument with you. With Mr. Willis, it is natural that I should +argue; we are equals, and understand each other; but I am no +theologian." + +Here Willis cried out, "O my dear Reding, what I say is, 'Come and see.' +Don't stand at the door arguing; but enter the great home of the soul, +enter and adore." + +"But," said Reding, "surely God wills us to be guided by reason; I don't +mean that reason is everything, but it is at least something. Surely we +ought not to act without it, against it." + +"But is not doubt a dreadful state?" said Willis; "a most perilous +state? No state is safe but that of faith. Can it be safe to be without +faith? Now _have_ you faith in your Church? I know you well enough to +know you have not; where, then, are you?" + +"Willis, you have misunderstood me most extraordinarily," said Charles: +"ten thousand thoughts pass through the mind, and if it is safe to note +down and bring against a man his stray words, I suppose there's nothing +he mayn't be accused of holding. You must be alluding to some +half-sentence or other of mine, which I have forgotten, and which was no +real sample of my sentiments. Do you mean I have no worship? and does +not worship presuppose faith? I have much to learn, I am conscious; but +I wish to learn it from the Church under whose shadow my lot is cast, +and with whom I am content." + +"He confesses," said Willis, "that he has no faith; he confesses that he +is in doubt. My dear Reding, can you sincerely plead that you are in +invincible ignorance after what has passed between us? now, suppose for +an instant that Catholicism is true, is it not certain that you now have +an opportunity of embracing it? and if you do not, are you in a state to +die in?" + +Reding was perplexed how to answer; that is, he could not with the +necessary quickness analyze and put into words the answer which his +reason suggested to Willis's rapid interrogatories. Mr. Morley had kept +silence, lest Charles should have two upon him at once; but when Willis +paused, and Charles did not reply, he interposed. He said that all the +calls in Scripture were obeyed with promptitude by those who were +called; and that our Lord would not suffer one man even to go and bury +his father. Reding answered, that in those cases the voice of Christ was +actually heard; He was on earth, in bodily presence; now, however, the +very question was, _which_ was the voice of Christ; and whether the +Church of Rome did or did not speak with the voice of Christ;--that +surely we ought to act prudently; that Christ could not wish us to act +otherwise; that, for himself, he had no doubt that he was in the place +where Providence wished him to be; but, even if he had any doubts +whether Christ was calling him elsewhere (which he had not), but if he +had, he should certainly think that Christ called him in the way and +method of careful examination,--that prudence was the divinely appointed +means of coming at the truth. + +"Prudence!" cried Willis, "such prudence as St. Thomas's, I suppose, +when he determined to see before believing." + +Charles hesitated to answer. + +"I see it," continued Willis; and, starting up, he seized his arm; +"come, my dear fellow, come with me directly; let us go to the good +priest who lives two streets off. You shall be received this very day. +On with your hat." And, before Charles could show any resistance, he was +half out of the room. + +He could not help laughing, in spite of his vexation; he disengaged his +arm, and deliberately sat down. "Not so fast," he said; "we are not +quite this sort of person." + +Willis looked awkward for a moment; then he said, "Well, at least you +must go into a retreat; you must go forthwith. Morley, do you know when +Mr. de Mowbray or Father Agostino gives his next retreat? Reding, it is +just what you want, just what all Oxford men want; I think you will not +refuse me." + +Charles looked up in his face, and smiled. "It is not my line," he said +at length. "I am on my way to Oxford. I must go. I came here to be of +use to you; I can be of none, so I must go. Would I _could_ be of +service; but it is hopeless. Oh, it makes my heart ache!" And he went on +brushing his hat with his glove, as if on the point of rising, yet loth +to rise. + +Morley now struck in: he spoke all along like a gentleman, and a man of +real piety, but with a great ignorance of Protestants, or how they were +to be treated. + +"Excuse me, Mr. Reding," he said, "if before you go, I say one word. I +feel very much for the struggle which is going on in your mind; and I am +sure it is not for such as me to speak harshly or unkindly to you. The +struggle between conviction and motives of this world is often long; may +it have a happy termination in your case! Do not be offended if I +suggest to you that the dearest and closest ties, such as your connexion +with the Protestant Church involves, may be on the side of the world in +certain cases. It is a sort of martyrdom to have to break such; but they +who do so have a martyr's reward. And, then, at a University you have so +many inducements to fall in with the prevailing tone of thought; +prospects, success in life, good opinion of friends--all these things +are against you. They are likely to choke the good seed. Well, I could +have wished that you had been able to follow the dictates of conscience +at once; but the conflict must continue its appointed time; we will +hope that all will end well." + +"I can't persuade these good people," thought Charles, as he closed the +street-door after him, "that I am not in a state of conviction, and +struggling against it; how absurd! Here I come to reclaim a deserter, +and I am seized even bodily, and against my will all but hurried into a +profession of faith. Do these things happen to people every day? or is +there some particular fate with me thus to be brought across religious +controversies which I am not up to? I a Roman Catholic! what a contrast +all this with quiet Hartley!" naming his home. As he continued to think +on what had passed he was still less satisfied with it or with himself. +He had gone to lecture, and he had been lectured; and he had let out his +secret state of mind: no, not let out, he had nothing to let out. He had +indeed implied that he was inquiring after religious truth, but every +Protestant inquires; he would not be a Protestant if he did not. Of +course he was seeking the truth; it was his duty to do so; he +recollected distinctly his tutor laying down, on one occasion, the duty +of private judgment. This was the very difference between Protestants +and Catholics; Catholics begin with faith, Protestants with inquiry; and +he ought to have said this to Willis. He was provoked he had not said +it; it would have simplified the question, and shown how far he was from +being unsettled. Unsettled! it was most extravagant. He wished this had +but struck him during the conversation, but it was a relief that it +struck him now; it reconciled him to his position. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +The first day of Michaelmas term is, to an undergraduate's furniture, +the brightest day of the year. Much as Charles regretted home, he +rejoiced to see old Oxford again. The porter had acknowledged him at the +gate, and the scout had smiled and bowed, as he ran up the worn +staircase and found a blazing fire to welcome him. The coals crackled +and split, and threw up a white flame in strong contrast with the +newly-blackened bars and hobs of the grate. A shining copper kettle +hissed and groaned under the internal torment of water at boiling point. +The chimney-glass had been cleaned, the carpet beaten, the curtains +fresh glazed. A tea-tray and tea commons were placed on the table; +besides a battel paper, two or three cards from tradesmen who desired +his patronage, and a note from a friend whose term had already +commenced. The porter came in with his luggage, and had just received +his too ample remuneration, when, through the closing door, in rushed +Sheffield in his travelling dress. + +"Well, old fellow, how are you?" he said, shaking both of Charles's +hands, or rather arms, with all his might; "here we are all again; I am +just come like you. Where have you been all this time? Come, tell us +all about yourself. Give me some tea, and let's have a good jolly chat." +Charles liked Sheffield, he liked Oxford, he was pleased to get back; +yet he had some remains of home-sickness on him, and was not quite in +cue for Sheffield's good-natured boisterousness. Willis's matter, too, +was still on his mind. "Have you heard the news?" said Sheffield; "I +have been long enough in college to pick it up. The kitchen-man was full +of it as I passed along. Jack's a particular friend of mine, a good +honest fellow, and has all the gossip of the place. I don't know what it +means, but Oxford has just now a very bad inside. The report is, that +some of the men have turned Romans; and they say that there are +strangers going about Oxford whom no one knows anything of. Jack, who is +a bit of a divine himself, says he heard the Principal say that, for +certain, there were Jesuits at the bottom of it; and I don't know what +he means, but he declares he saw with his own eyes the Pope walking down +High Street with the priest. I asked him how he knew it; he said he knew +the Pope by his slouching hat and his long beard; and the porter told +him it was the Pope. The Dons have met several times; and several tutors +are to be discommoned, and their names stuck up against the +buttery-door. Meanwhile the Marshal, with two bulldogs, is keeping guard +before the Catholic chapel; and, to complete it, that old drunken fellow +Topham is reported, out of malice, when called in to cut the Warden of +St. Mary's hair, to have made a clean white tonsure atop of him." + +"My dear Sheffield, how you run on!" said Reding. "Well, do you know, I +can tell you a piece of real news bearing on these reports, and not of +the pleasantest. Did you know Willis of St. George's?" + +"I think I once saw him at wine in your rooms; a modest, nice-looking +fellow, who never spoke a word." + +"Ah, I assure you, he has a tongue in his head when it suits him," +answered Charles: "yet I do think," he added, musingly, "he's very much +changed, and not for the better." + +"Well, what's the upshot?" asked Sheffield. + +"He has turned Catholic," said Charles. + +"What a fool!" cried Sheffield. + +There was a pause. Charles felt awkward: then he said, "I can't say I +was surprised; yet I should have been less surprised at White." + +"Oh, White won't turn Catholic," said Sheffield; "he hasn't it in him. +He's a coward." + +"Fools and cowards!" answered Charles: "thus you divide the world, +Sheffield? Poor Willis!" he added; "one must respect a man who acts +according to his conscience." + +"What can he know of conscience?" said Sheffield; "the idea of his +swallowing, of his own free-will, the heap of rubbish which every +Catholic has to believe! in cold blood tying a collar round his neck, +and politely putting the chain into the hands of a priest!... And then +the Confessional! 'Tis marvellous!" and he began to break the coals with +the poker. "It's very well," he continued, "if a man is born a Catholic; +I don't suppose they really believe what they are obliged to profess; +but how an Englishman, a gentleman, a man here at Oxford, with all his +advantages, can so eat dirt, scraping and picking up all the dead lies +of the dark ages--it's a miracle!" + +"Well, if there is anything that recommends Romanism to me," said +Charles, "it is what you so much dislike: I'd give twopence, if some +one, whom I could trust, would say to me, 'This is true; this is not +true.' We should be saved this eternal wrangling. Wouldn't you be glad +if St. Paul could come to life? I've often said to myself, 'Oh, that I +could ask St. Paul this or that!'" + +"But the Catholic Church isn't St. Paul quite, I guess," said Sheffield. + +"Certainly not; but supposing you _did_ think it had the inspiration of +an Apostle, as the Roman Catholics do, what a comfort it would be to +know, beyond all doubt, what to believe about God, and how to worship +and please Him! I mean, _you_ said, 'I can't believe this or that;' now +you ought to have said, 'I can't believe the Pope has _power_ to +_decide_ this or that.' If he had, you ought to believe it, whatever it +is, and not to say, 'I can't believe.'" + +Sheffield looked hard at him: "We shall have you a papist some of these +fine days," said he. + +"Nonsense," answered Charles; "you shouldn't say such things, even in +jest." + +"I don't jest; I am in earnest: you are plainly on the road." + +"Well, if I am, you have put me on it," said Reding, wishing to get away +from the subject as quick as he could; "for you are ever talking +against shams, and laughing at King Charles and Laud, Bateman, White, +rood-lofts, and piscinas." + +"Now you are a Puseyite," said Sheffield in surprise. + +"You give me the name of a very good man, whom I hardly know by sight," +said Reding; "but I mean, that nobody knows what to believe, no one has +a definite faith, but the Catholics and the Puseyites; no one says, +'This is true, that is false; this comes from the Apostles, that does +not.'" + +"Then would you believe a Turk," asked Sheffield, "who came to you with +his 'One Allah, and Mahomet his Prophet'?" + +"I did not say a creed was everything," answered Reding, "or that a +religion could not be false which had a creed; but a religion can't be +true which has none." + +"Well, somehow that doesn't strike me," said Sheffield. + +"Now there was Vincent at the end of term, after you had gone down," +continued Charles; "you know I stayed up for Littlego; and he was very +civil, very civil indeed. I had a talk with him about Oxford parties, +and he pleased me very much at the time; but afterwards, the more I +thought of what he said, the less was I satisfied; that is, I had got +nothing definite from him. He did not say, 'This is true, that is +false;' but 'Be true, be true, be good, be good, don't go too far, keep +in the mean, have your eyes about you, eschew parties, follow our +divines, all of them;'--all which was but putting salt on the bird's +tail. I want some practical direction, not abstract truths." + +"Vincent is a humbug," said Sheffield. + +"Dr. Pusey, on the other hand," continued Charles, "is said always to be +decisive. He says, 'This is Apostolic, that's in the Fathers; St. +Cyprian says this, St. Augustine denies that; this is safe, that's +wrong; I bid you, I forbid you.' I understand all this; but I don't +understand having duties put on me which are too much for me. I don't +understand, I dislike, having a will of my own, when I have not the +means to use it justly. In such a case, to tell me to act of myself, is +like Pharaoh setting the Israelites to make bricks without straw. +Setting me to inquire, to judge, to decide, forsooth! it's absurd; who +has taught me?" + +"But the Puseyites are not always so distinct," said Sheffield; "there's +Smith, he never speaks decidedly in difficult questions. I know a man +who was going to remain in Italy for some years, at a distance from any +English chapel,--he could not help it,--and who came to ask him if he +might communicate in the Catholic churches; he could not get an answer +from him; he would not say yes or no." + +"Then he won't have many followers, that's all," said Charles. + +"But he has more than Dr. Pusey," answered Sheffield. + +"Well, I can't understand it," said Charles; "he ought not; perhaps they +won't stay." + +"The truth is," said Sheffield, "I suspect he is more of a sceptic at +bottom." + +"Well, I honour the man who builds up," said Reding, "and I despise the +man who breaks down." + +"I am inclined to think you have a wrong notion of building up and +pulling down," answered Sheffield; "Coventry, in his 'Dissertations,' +makes it quite clear that Christianity is not a religion of doctrines." + +"Who is Coventry?" + +"Not know Coventry? he is one of the most original writers of the day; +he's an American, and, I believe, a congregationalist. Oh, I assure you, +you should read Coventry, although he is wrong on the question of +Church-government: you are not well _au courant_ with the literature of +the day unless you do. He is no party man; he is a correspondent of the +first men of the day; he stopped with the Dean of Oxford when he was in +England, who has published an English edition of his 'Dissertations,' +with a Preface; and he and Lord Newlights were said to be the two most +witty men at the meeting of the British Association, two years ago." + +"I don't like Lord Newlights," said Charles, "he seems to me to have no +principle; that is, no fixed, definite religious principle. You don't +know where to find him. This is what my father thinks; I have often +heard him speak of him." + +"It's curious you should use the word _principle_," said Sheffield; "for +it is that which Coventry lays such stress on. He says that Christianity +has no creed; that this is the very point in which it is distinguished +from other religions; that you will search the New Testament in vain for +a creed; but that Scripture is full of _principles_. The view is very +ingenious, and seemed to me true, when I read the book. According to +him, then, Christianity is not a religion of doctrines or mysteries; and +if you are looking for dogmatism in Scripture, it's a mistake." + +Charles was puzzled. "Certainly," he said, "at first sight there _is_ no +creed in Scripture.--No creed in Scripture," he said slowly, as if +thinking aloud; "no creed in Scripture, _therefore_ there is no creed. +But the Athanasian Creed," he added quickly, "is _that_ in Scripture? It +either _is_ in Scripture, or it is _not_. Let me see, it either is +there, or it is not.... What was it that Freeborn said last term?... +Tell me, Sheffield, would the Dean of Oxford say that the Creed was in +Scripture or not? perhaps you do not fairly explain Coventry's view; +what is your impression?" + +"Why, I will tell you frankly, my impression is, judging from his +Preface, that he would not scruple to say that it is not in Scripture, +but a scholastic addition." + +"My dear fellow," said Charles, "do you mean that he, a dignitary of the +Church, would say that the Athanasian Creed was a mistake, because it +represented Christianity as a revelation of doctrines or mysteries to be +received on faith?" + +"Well, I may be wrong," said Sheffield, "but so I understood him." + +"After all," said Charles sadly, "it's not so much more than that other +Dean, I forget his name, said at St. Mary's before the Vacation; it's +part of the same system. Oh, it was after you went down, or just at the +end of term: you don't go to sermons; I'm inclined not to go either. I +can't enter upon the Dean's argument; it's not worth while. Well," he +added, standing up and stretching himself, "I am tired with the day, yet +it has not been a fatiguing one either; but London is so bustling a +place." + +"You wish me to say good-night," said Sheffield. Charles did not deny +the charge; and the friends parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +There could not have been a lecture more unfavourable for Charles's +peace of mind than that in which he found himself this term placed; yet, +so blind are we to the future, he hailed it with great satisfaction, as +if it was to bring him an answer to the perplexities into which +Sheffield, Bateman, Freeborn, White, Willis, Mr. Morley, Dr. Brownside, +Mr. Vincent, and the general state of Oxford, had all, in one way or +other, conspired to throw him. He had shown such abilities in the former +part of the year, and was reading so diligently, that his tutors put him +prematurely into the lecture upon the Articles. It was a capital lecture +so far as this, that the tutor who gave it had got up his subject +completely. He knew the whole history of the Articles, how they grew +into their present shape, with what fortunes, what had been added, and +when, and what omitted. With this, of course, was joined an explanation +of the text, as deduced, as far as could be, from the historical account +thus given. Not only the British, but the foreign Reformers were +introduced; and nothing was wanting, at least in the intention of the +lecturer, for fortifying the young inquirer in the doctrine and +discipline of the Church of England. + +It did not produce this effect on Reding. Whether he had expected too +much, or whatever was the cause, so it was that he did but feel more +vividly the sentiment of the old father in the comedy, after consulting +the lawyers, "_Incertior sum multo quam ante_." He saw that the +profession of faith contained in the Articles was but a patchwork of +bits of orthodoxy, Lutheranism, Calvinism, and Zuinglism; and this too +on no principle; that it was but the work of accident, if there be such +a thing as accident; that it had come down in the particular shape in +which the English Church now receives it, when it might have come down +in any other shape; that it was but a toss-up that Anglicans at this day +were not Calvinists, or Presbyterians, or Lutherans, equally well as +Episcopalians. This historical fact did but clench the difficulty, or +rather impossibility, of saying what the faith of the English Church +was. On almost every point of dispute the authoritative standard of +doctrine was vague or inconsistent, and there was an imposing weight of +external testimony in favour of opposite interpretations. He stopped +after lecture once or twice, and asked information of Mr. Upton, the +tutor, who was quite ready to give it; but nothing came of these +applications as regards the object which led him to make them. + +One difficulty which Charles experienced was to know whether, according +to the Articles, Divine truth was directly _given_ us, or whether we had +to _seek_ it for ourselves from Scripture. Several Articles led to this +question; and Mr. Upton, who was a High Churchman, answered him that the +saving doctrine neither was _given_ nor was to be _sought_, but that it +was _proposed_ by the Church, and _proved_ by the individual. Charles +did not see this distinction between _seeking_ and _proving_; for how +can we _prove_ except by _seeking_ (in Scripture) for _reasons_? He put +the question in another form, and asked if the Christian Religion +allowed of private judgment? This was no abstruse question, and a very +practical one. Had he asked a Wesleyan or Independent, he would have had +an unconditional answer in the affirmative; had he asked a Catholic, he +would have been told that we used our private judgment to find the +Church, and then in all matters of faith the Church superseded it; but +from this Oxford divine he could not get a distinct answer. First he was +told that doubtless we _must_ use our judgment in the determination of +religious doctrine; but next he was told that it was sin (as it +undoubtedly is) to doubt the dogma of the Blessed Trinity. Yet, while he +was told that to doubt of that doctrine was a sin, he was told in +another conversation that our highest state here is one of doubt. What +did this mean? Surely certainty was simply necessary on _some_ points, +as on the Object of worship; how could we worship what we doubted of? +The two acts were contrasted by the Evangelist; when the disciples saw +our Lord after the resurrection, "they worshipped Him, _but_ some +doubted;" yet, in spite of this, he was told that there was "impatience" +in the very idea of desiring certainty. + +At another time he asked whether the anathemas of the Athanasian Creed +applied to all its clauses; for instance, whether it is necessary to +salvation to hold that there is "_unus ĉternus_" as the Latin has it; or +"such as the Father, ... such the Holy Ghost;" or that the Holy Ghost +is "by Himself God and Lord;" or that Christ is one "by the taking of +the manhood into God?" He could get no answer. Mr. Upton said that he +did not like extreme questions; that he could not and did not wish to +answer them; that the Creed was written against heresies, which no +longer existed, as a sort of _protest_. Reding asked whether this meant +that the Creed did not contain a distinctive view of its own, which +alone was safe, but was merely a negation of error. The clauses, he +observed, were positive, not negative. He could get no answer farther +than that the Creed taught that the doctrines of "the Trinity" and "the +Incarnation" were "necessary to salvation," it being apparently left +uncertain _what_ those doctrines consisted in. One day he asked how +grievous sins were to be forgiven which were committed after baptism, +whether by faith, or not at all in this life. He was answered that the +Articles said nothing on the subject; that the Romish doctrine of pardon +and purgatory was false; and that it was well to avoid both curious +questions and subtle answers. + +Another question turned up at another lecture, viz. whether the Real +Presence meant a Presence of Christ in the elements, or in the soul, +i.e. in the faith of the recipient; in other words, whether the Presence +was really such, or a mere name. Mr. Upton pronounced it an open +question. Another day Charles asked whether Christ was present in fact, +or only in effect. Mr. Upton answered decidedly "in effect," which +seemed to Reding to mean no real presence at all. + +He had had some difficulty in receiving the doctrine of eternal +punishment; it had seemed to him the hardest doctrine of Revelation. +Then he said to himself, "But what is faith in its very notion but an +acceptance of the word of God when reason seems to oppose it? How is it +faith at all if there is nothing to try it?" This thought fully +satisfied him. The only question was, _Is_ it part of the revealed word? +"I can believe it," he said, "if I know for certain that I _ought_ to +believe it; but if I am not bound to believe it, I can't believe it." +Accordingly he put the question to Mr. Upton whether it was a doctrine +of the Church of England; that is, whether it came under the +subscription to the Articles. He could obtain no answer. Yet if he did +_not_ believe this doctrine, he felt the whole fabric of his faith shake +under him. Close upon it came the doctrine of the Atonement. + +It is difficult to give instances of this kind, without producing the +impression on the reader's mind that Charles was forward and captious in +his inquiries. Certainly Mr. Upton had his own thoughts about him, but +he never thought his manner inconsistent with modesty and respect +towards himself. + +Charles naturally was full of the subject, and would have disclosed his +perplexities to Sheffield, had he not had a strong anticipation that +this would have been making matters worse. He thought Bateman, however, +might be of some service, and he disburdened himself to him in the +course of a country walk. What was he to do? for on his entrance he had +been told that when he took his degree he should have to sign the +Articles, not on faith as then, but on reason; yet they were +unintelligible; and how could he prove what he could not construe? + +Bateman seemed unwilling to talk on the subject; at last he said, "Oh, +my dear Reding, you really are in an excited state of mind; I don't like +to talk to you just now, for you will not see things in a +straightforward way and take them naturally. What a bug-bear you are +conjuring up! You are in an Article lecture in your second year; and +hardly have you commenced, but you begin to fancy what you will, or will +not think at the end of your time. Don't ask about the Articles now; +wait at least till you have seen the lecture through." + +"It really is not my way to be fussed or to fidget," said Charles, +"though I own I am not so quiet as I ought to be. I hear so many +different opinions in conversation; then I go to church, and one +preacher deals his blows at another; lastly, I betake myself to the +Articles, and really I cannot make out what they would teach me. For +instance, I cannot make out their doctrine about faith, about the +sacraments, about predestination, about the Church, about the +inspiration of Scripture. And their tone is so unlike the Prayer Book. +Upton has brought this out in his lectures most clearly." + +"Now, my most respectable friend," said Bateman, "do think for a moment +what men have signed the Articles. Perhaps King Charles himself; +certainly Laud, and all the great Bishops of his day, and of the next +generation. Think of the most orthodox Bull, the singularly learned +Pearson, the eloquent Taylor, Montague, Barrow, Thorndike, good dear +Bishop Horne, and Jones of Nayland. Can't you do what they did?" + +"The argument is a very strong one," said Charles; "I have felt it: you +mean, then, I must sign on faith." + +"Yes, certainly, if necessary," said Bateman. + +"And how am I to sign as a Master, and when I am ordained?" asked +Charles. + +"That's what I mean by fidgeting," answered Bateman. "You are not +content with your day; you are reaching forward to live years hence." + +Charles laughed. "It isn't quite that," he said, "I was but testing your +advice; however, there's some truth in it." And he changed the subject. + +They talked awhile on indifferent matters; but on a pause Charles's +thoughts fell back again to the Articles. "Tell me, Bateman," he said, +"as a mere matter of curiosity, how _you_ subscribed when you took your +degree." + +"Oh, I had no difficulty at all," said Bateman; "the examples of Bull +and Pearson were enough for me." + +"Then you signed on faith." + +"Not exactly, but it was that thought which smoothed all difficulties." + +"Could you have signed without it?" + +"How can you ask me the question? of course." + +"Well, do tell me, then, what was your _ground_?" + +"Oh, I had many grounds. I can't recollect in a moment what happened +some time ago." + +"Oh, then it was a matter of difficulty; indeed, you said so just now." + +"Not at all: my only difficulty was, not about myself, but how to state +the matter to other people." + +"What! some one suspected you?" + +"No, no; you are quite mistaken. I mean, for instance, the Article says +that we are justified by faith only; now the Protestant sense of this +statement is point blank opposite to our standard divines: the question +was, what I was to say when asked _my_ sense of it." + +"I understand," said Charles; "now tell me how you solved the problem." + +"Well, I don't deny that the Protestant sense is heretical," answered +Bateman; "and so is the Protestant sense of many other things in the +Articles; but then we need not take them in the Protestant sense." + +"Then in what sense?" + +"Why, first," said Bateman, "we need not take them in any sense at all. +Don't smile; listen. Great authorities, such as Laud or Bramhall, seem +to have considered that we only sign the Articles as articles of peace; +not as really holding them, but as not opposing them. Therefore, when we +sign the Articles, we only engage not to preach against them." + +Reding thought; then he said: "Tell me, Bateman, would not this view of +subscription to the Articles let the Unitarians into the Church?" + +Bateman allowed it would, but the Liturgy would still keep them out. +Charles then went on to suggest that _they_ would take the Liturgy as a +Liturgy of peace too. Bateman began again. + +"If you want some tangible principle," he said, "for interpreting +Articles and Liturgy, I can give you one. You know," he continued, after +a short pause, "what it is _we_ hold? Why, we give the Articles a +Catholic interpretation." + +Charles looked inquisitive. + +"It is plain," continued Bateman, "that no document can be a dead +letter; it must be the expression of some mind; and the question here +is, _whose_ is what may be called the voice which speaks the Articles. +Now, if the Bishops, Heads of houses, and other dignitaries and +authorities were unanimous in their religious views, and one and all +said that the Articles meant this and not that, they, as the imponents, +would have a right to interpret them; and the Articles would mean what +those great men said they meant. But they do not agree together; some of +them are diametrically opposed to others. One clergyman denies +Apostolical Succession, another affirms it; one denies the Lutheran +justification, another maintains it; one denies the inspiration of +Scripture, a second holds Calvin to be a saint, a third considers the +doctrine of sacramental grace a superstition, a fourth takes part with +Nestorius against the Church, a fifth is a Sabellian. It is plain, then, +that the Articles have no sense at all, if the collective voice of +Bishops, Deans, Professors, and the like is to be taken. They cannot +supply what schoolmen call the _form_ of the Articles. But perhaps the +writers themselves of the Articles will supply it? No; for, first, we +don't know for certain who the writers were; and next, the Articles have +gone through so many hands, and so many mendings, that some at least of +the original authors would not like to be responsible for them. Well, +let us go to the Convocations which ratified them: but they, too, were +of different sentiments; the seventeenth century did not hold the +doctrine of the sixteenth. Such is the state of the case. On the other +hand, _we_ say that if the Anglican Church be a part of the one Church +Catholic, it must, from the necessity of the case, hold Catholic +doctrine. Therefore, the whole Catholic Creed, the acknowledged doctrine +of the Fathers, of St. Ignatius, St. Cyprian, St. Augustin, St. Ambrose, +is the _form_, is the one true sense and interpretation of the Articles. +They may be ambiguous in themselves; they may have been worded with +various intentions by the individuals concerned in their composition; +but these are accidents; the Church knows nothing of individuals; she +interprets herself." + +Reding took some time to think over this. "All this," he said, "proceeds +on the fundamental principle that the Church of England is an integral +part of that visible body of which St. Ignatius, St. Cyprian, and the +rest were Bishops; according to the words of Scripture, 'one body, one +faith.'" + +Bateman assented; Charles proceeded: "Then the Articles must not be +considered primarily as teaching; they have no one sense in themselves; +they are confessedly ambiguous: they are compiled from heterogeneous +sources; but all this does not matter, for all must be interpreted by +the teaching of the Catholic Church." + +Bateman agreed in the main, except that Reding had stated the case +rather too strongly. + +"But what if their letter _contradicts_ a doctrine of the Fathers? am I +to force the letter?" + +"If such a case actually happened, the theory would not hold," answered +Bateman; "it would only be a gross quibble. You can in no case sign an +Article in a sense which its words will not bear. But, fortunately, or +rather providentially, this is not the case; we have merely to explain +ambiguities, and harmonize discrepancies. The Catholic interpretation +does no greater violence to the text than _any other_ rule of +interpretation will be found to do." + +"Well, but I know nothing of the Fathers," said Charles; "others too are +in the same condition; how am I to learn practically to interpret the +Articles?" + +"By the Prayer Book; the Prayer Book is the voice of the Fathers." + +"How so?" + +"Because the Prayer Book is confessedly ancient, while the Articles are +modern." + +Charles kept silence again. "It is very plausible," he said; he thought +on. Presently he asked: "Is this a _received_ view?" + +"_No_ view is received," said Bateman; "the Articles themselves are +received, but there is no authoritative interpretation of them at all. +That's what I was saying just now; Bishops and Professors don't agree +together." + +"Well," said Charles, "is it a _tolerated_ view?" + +"It has certainly been strongly opposed," answered Bateman; "but it has +never been condemned." + +"That is no answer," said Charles, who saw by Bateman's manner how the +truth lay. "Does any one Bishop hold it? did any one Bishop ever hold +it? has it ever been formally admitted as tenable by any one Bishop? is +it a view got up to meet existing difficulties, or has it an historical +existence?" + +Bateman could give but one answer to these questions, as they were +successively put to him. + +"I thought so," said Charles, when he had made his answer: "I know, of +course, whose view you are putting before me, though I never heard it +drawn out before. It is specious, certainly: I don't see but it might +have done, had it been tolerably sanctioned; but you have no sanction to +show me. It is, as it stands, a mere theory struck out by individuals. +Our Church _might_ have adopted this mode of interpreting the Articles; +but from what you tell me, it certainly _has not_ done so. I am where I +was." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The thought came across Reding whether perhaps, after all, what is +called Evangelical Religion was not the true Christianity: its +professors, he knew, were active and influential, and in past times had +been much persecuted. Freeborn had surprised and offended him at +Bateman's breakfast-party before the Vacation; yet Freeborn had a +serious manner about him, and perhaps he had misunderstood him. The +thought, however, passed away as suddenly as it came, and perhaps would +not have occurred to him again, when an accident gave him some data for +determining the question. + +One afternoon he was lounging in the Parks, gazing with surprise on one +of those extraordinary lights for which the neighbourhood of Oxford is +at that season celebrated, and which, as the sun went down, was +colouring Marston, Elsfield, and their half-denuded groves with a pale +gold-and-brown hue, when he found himself overtaken and addressed by the +said Freeborn _in propriâ personâ_. Freeborn liked a _tête-à-tête_ talk +much better than a dispute in a party; he felt himself at more advantage +in long leisurely speeches, and he was soon put out of breath when he +had to bolt-out or edge-in his words amid the ever-varying voices of a +breakfast-table. He thought the present might be a good opportunity of +doing good to a poor youth who did not know chalk from cheese, and who, +by his means, might be, as he would word it, "savingly converted." So +they got into conversation, talked of Willis's step, which Freeborn +called awful; and, before Charles knew where he was, he found himself +asking Freeborn what he meant by "faith." + +"Faith," said Freeborn, "is a Divine gift, and is the instrument of our +justification in God's sight. We are all by nature displeasing to Him, +till He justifies us freely for Christ's sake. Faith is like a hand, +appropriating personally the merits of Christ, who is our justification. +Now, what can we want more, or have more, than those merits? Faith, +then, is everything, and does everything for us. You see, then, how +important it is to have a right view about justification by faith only. +If we are sound on this capital point, everything else may take its +chance; we shall at once see the folly of contending about ceremonies, +about forms of Church-government, about, I will even say, sacraments or +creeds. External things will, in that case, either be neglected, or will +find a subordinate place." + +Reding observed that of course Freeborn did not mean to say that good +works were not necessary for obtaining God's favour; "but if they were, +how was justification by faith only?" + +Freeborn smiled, and said that he hoped Reding would have clearer views +in a little time. It was a very simple matter. Faith not only justified, +it regenerated also. It was the root of sanctification, as well as of +Divine acceptance. The same act, which was the means of bringing us into +God's favour, secured our being meet for it. Thus good works were +secured, because faith would not be true faith unless it were such as to +be certain of bringing forth good works in due time. + +Reding thought this view simple and clear, though it unpleasantly +reminded him of Dr. Brownside. Freeborn added that it was a doctrine +suited to the poor, that it put all the gospel into a nutshell, that it +dispensed with criticism, primitive ages, teachers--in short, with +authority in whatever form. It swept theology clean away. There was no +need to mention this last consequence to Charles; but he passed it by, +wishing to try the system on its own merits. + +"You speak of _true_ faith," he said, "as producing good works: you say +that no faith justifies _but_ true faith, and true faith produces good +works. In other words, I suppose, faith, which is _certain to be +fruitful_, or _fruitful_ faith, justifies. This is very like saying that +faith and works are the joint means of justification." + +"Oh, no, no," cried Freeborn, "that is deplorable doctrine: it is quite +opposed to the gospel, it is anti-Christian. We are justified by faith +only, apart from good works." + +"I am in an Article lecture just now," said Charles, "and Upton told us +that we must make a distinction of _this_ kind; for instance, the Duke +of Wellington is Chancellor of the University, but, though he is as much +Chancellor as Duke, still he sits in the House of Lords as Duke, not as +Chancellor. Thus, although faith is as truly fruitful as it is faith, +yet it does not justify as being fruitful, but as being faith. Is this +what you mean?" + +"Not at all," said Freeborn; "that was Melancthon's doctrine; he +explained away a cardinal truth into a mere matter of words; he made +faith a mere symbol, but this is a departure from the pure gospel: faith +is the _instrument_, not a _symbol_ of justification. It is, in truth, a +mere _apprehension_, and nothing else: the seizing and clinging which a +beggar might venture on when a king passed by. Faith is as poor as Job +in the ashes: it is like Job stripped of all pride and pomp and good +works: it is covered with filthy rags: it is without anything good: it +is, I repeat, a mere apprehension. Now you see what I mean." + +"I can't believe I understand you," said Charles: "you say that to have +faith is to seize Christ's merits; and that we have them, if we will but +seize them. But surely not every one who seizes them, gains them; +because dissolute men, who never have a dream of thorough repentance or +real hatred of sin, would gladly seize and appropriate them, if they +might do so. They would like to get to heaven for nothing. Faith, then, +must be some particular _kind_ of apprehension; _what_ kind? good works +cannot be mistaken, but an 'apprehension' may. What, then, is a true +apprehension? what _is_ faith?" + +"What need, my dear friend," answered Freeborn, "of knowing +metaphysically what true faith is, if we have it and enjoy it? I do not +know what bread is, but I eat it; do I wait till a chemist analyzes it? +No, I eat it, and I feel the good effects afterwards. And so let us be +content to know, not what faith _is_, but what it _does_, and enjoy our +blessedness in possessing it." + +"I really don't want to introduce metaphysics," said Charles, "but I +will adopt your own image. Suppose I suspected the bread before me to +have arsenic in it, or merely to be unwholesome, would it be wonderful +if I tried to ascertain how the fact stood?" + +"Did you do so this morning at breakfast?" asked Freeborn. + +"I did not suspect my bread," answered Charles. + +"Then why suspect faith?" asked Freeborn. + +"Because it is, so to say, a new substance,"--Freeborn sighed,--"because +I am not used to it, nay, because I suspect it. I must say _suspect_ it; +because, though I don't know much about the matter, I know perfectly +well, from what has taken place in my father's parish, what excesses +this doctrine may lead to, unless it is guarded. You say that it is a +doctrine for the poor; now they are very likely to mistake one thing for +another; so indeed is every one. If, then, we are told, that we have but +to apprehend Christ's merits, and need not trouble ourselves about +anything else; that justification has taken place, and works will +follow; that all is done, and that salvation is complete, while we do +but continue to have faith; I think we ought to be pretty sure that we +_have_ faith, real faith, a real apprehension, before we shut up our +books and make holiday." + +Freeborn was secretly annoyed that he had got into an argument, or +pained, as he would express it, at the pride of Charles's natural man, +or the blindness of his carnal reason; but there was no help for it, he +must give him an answer. + +"There are, I know, many kinds of faith," he said; "and of course you +must be on your guard against mistaking false faith for true faith. Many +persons, as you most truly say, make this mistake; and most important is +it, all important I should say, to go right. First, it is evident that +it is not mere belief in facts, in the being of a God, or in the +historical event that Christ has come and gone. Nor is it the submission +of the reason to mysteries; nor, again, is it that sort of trust which +is required for exercising the gift of miracles. Nor is it knowledge and +acceptance of the contents of the Bible. I say, it is not knowledge, it +is not assent of the intellect, it is not historical faith, it is not +dead faith: true justifying faith is none of these--it is seated in the +heart and affections." He paused, then added: "Now, I suppose, for +practical purposes, I have described pretty well what justifying faith +is." + +Charles hesitated: "By describing what it is _not_, you mean," said he; +"justifying faith, then, is, I suppose, living faith." + +"Not so fast," answered Freeborn. + +"Why," said Charles, "if it's not dead faith, it's living faith." + +"It's neither dead faith nor living," said Freeborn, "but faith, simple +faith, which justifies. Luther was displeased with Melancthon for saying +that living and operative faith justified. I have studied the question +very carefully." + +"Then do _you_ tell me," said Charles, "what faith is, since I do not +explain it correctly. For instance, if you said (what you don't say), +that faith was submission of the reason to mysteries, or acceptance of +Scripture as an historical document, I should know perfectly well what +you meant; _that_ is information: but when you say, that faith which +justifies is an _apprehension_ of Christ, that it is _not_ living faith, +or fruitful faith, or operative, but a something which in fact and +actually is distinct from these, I confess I feel perplexed." + +Freeborn wished to be out of the argument. "Oh," he said, "if you really +once experienced the power of faith--how it changes the heart, +enlightens the eyes, gives a new spiritual taste, a new sense to the +soul; if you once knew what it was to be blind, and then to see, you +would not ask for definitions. Strangers need verbal descriptions; the +heirs of the kingdom enjoy. Oh, if you could but be persuaded to put off +high imaginations; to strip yourself of your proud self, and to +_experience_ in yourself the wonderful change, you would live in praise +and thanksgiving, instead of argument and criticism." + +Charles was touched by his warmth; "But," he said, "we ought to act by +reason; and I don't see that I have more, or so much, reason to listen +to you, as to listen to the Roman Catholic, who tells me I cannot +possibly have that certainty of faith before believing, which on +believing will be divinely given me." + +"Surely," said Freeborn, with a grave face, "you would not compare the +spiritual Christian, such as Luther, holding his cardinal doctrine about +justification, to any such formal, legal, superstitious devotee as +Popery can make, with its carnal rites and quack remedies, which never +really cleanse the soul or reconcile it to God?" + +"I don't like you to talk so," said Reding; "I know very little about +the real nature of Popery; but when I was a boy I was once, by chance, +in a Roman Catholic chapel; and I really never saw such devotion in my +life--the people all on their knees, and most earnestly attentive to +what was going on. I did not understand what that was; but I am sure, +had you been there, you never would have called their religion, be it +right or wrong, an outward form or carnal ordinance." + +Freeborn said it deeply pained him to hear such sentiments, and to find +that Charles was so tainted with the errors of the day; and he began, +not with much tact, to talk of the Papal Antichrist, and would have got +off to prophecy, had Charles said a word to afford fuel for discussion. +As he kept silence, Freeborn's zeal burnt out, and there was a break in +the conversation. + +After a time, Reding ventured to begin again. + +"If I understand you," he said, "faith carries its own evidence with it. +Just as I eat my bread at breakfast without hesitation about its +wholesomeness, so, when I have really faith, I know it beyond mistake, +and need not look out for tests of it?" + +"Precisely so," said Freeborn; "you begin to see what I mean; you grow. +The soul is enlightened to see that it has real faith." + +"But how," asked Charles, "are we to rescue those from their dangerous +mistake, who think they have faith, while they have not? Is there no way +in which they can find out that they are under a delusion?" + +"It is not wonderful," said Freeborn, "though there be no way. There are +many self-deceivers in the world. Some men are self-righteous, trust in +their works, and think they are safe when they are in a state of +perdition; no formal rules _can_ be given by which their reason might +for certain detect their mistake. And so of false faith." + +"Well, it does seem to me wonderful," said Charles, "that there is no +natural and obvious warning provided against this delusion; wonderful +that false faith should be so exactly like true faith that there is +nothing to determine their differences from each other. Effects imply +causes: if one apprehension of Christ leads to good works, and another +does not, there must be something _in_ the one which is not _in_ the +other. _What_ is a false apprehension of Christ wanting in, which a true +apprehension has? The word _apprehension_ is so vague; it conveys no +definite idea to me, yet justification depends on it. Is a false +apprehension, for instance, wanting in repentance and amendment?" + +"No, no," said Freeborn; "true faith is complete without conversion; +conversion follows; but faith is the root." + +"Is it the love of God which distinguishes true faith from false?" + +"Love?" answered Freeborn; "you should read what Luther says in his +celebrated comment on the Galatians. He calls such a doctrine +'_pestilens figmentum_,' '_diaboli portentum_;' and cries out against +the Papists, '_Pereant sophistĉ cum suâ maledictâ glossâ!_'" + +"Then it differs from false faith in nothing." + +"Not so," said Freeborn; "it differs from it in its fruits: 'By their +fruits ye shall know them.'" + +"This is coming round to the same point again," said Charles; "fruits +come after; but a man, it seems, is to take comfort in his justification +_before_ fruits come, before he knows that his faith will produce them." + +"Good works are the _necessary_ fruits of faith," said Freeborn; "so +says the Article." + +Charles made no answer, but said to himself, "My good friend here +certainly has not the clearest of heads;" then aloud, "Well, I despair +of getting at the bottom of the subject." + +"Of course," answered Freeborn, with an air of superiority, though in a +mild tone, "it is a very simple principle, '_Fides justificat ante et +sine charitate_;' but it requires a Divine light to embrace it." + +They walked awhile in silence; then, as the day was now closing in, they +turned homewards, and parted company when they came to the Clarendon. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Freeborn was not the person to let go a young man like Charles without +another effort to gain him; and in a few days he invited him to take tea +at his lodgings. Charles went at the appointed time, through the wet and +cold of a dreary November evening, and found five or six men already +assembled. He had got into another world; faces, manners, speeches, all +were strange, and savoured neither of Eton, which was his own school, +nor of Oxford itself. He was introduced, and found the awkwardness of a +new acquaintance little relieved by the conversation which went on. It +was a dropping fire of serious remarks; with pauses, relieved only by +occasional "ahems," the sipping of tea, the sound of spoons falling +against the saucers, and the blind shifting of chairs as the flurried +servant-maid of the lodgings suddenly came upon them from behind, with +the kettle for the teapot, or toast for the table. There was no nature +or elasticity in the party, but a great intention to be profitable. + +"Have you seen the last _Spiritual Journal_?" asked No. 1 of No. 2 in a +low voice. + +No. 2 had just read it. + +"A very remarkable article that," said No. 1, "upon the deathbed of the +Pope." + +"No one is beyond hope," answered No. 2. + +"I have heard of it, but not seen it," said No. 3. + +A pause. + +"What is it about?" asked Reding. + +"The late Pope Sixtus the Sixteenth," said No. 3; "he seems to have died +a believer." + +A sensation. Charles looked as if he wished to know more. + +"The _Journal_ gives it on excellent authority," said No. 2; "Mr. +O'Niggins, the agent for the Roman Priest Conversion Branch Tract +Society, was in Rome during his last illness. He solicited an audience +with the Pope, which was granted to him. He at once began to address him +on the necessity of a change of heart, belief in the one Hope of +sinners, and abandonment of all creature mediators. He announced to him +the glad tidings, and assured him there was pardon for all. He warned +him against the figment of baptismal regeneration; and then, proceeding +to apply the word, he urged him, though in the eleventh hour, to receive +the Bible, the whole Bible, and nothing but the Bible. The Pope listened +with marked attention, and displayed considerable emotion. When it was +ended, he answered Mr. O'Niggins that it was his fervent hope that they +two would not die without finding themselves in one communion, or +something of the sort. He declared moreover, what was astonishing, that +he put his sole trust in Christ, 'the source of all merit,' as he +expressed it--a remarkable phrase." + +"In what language was the conversation carried on?" asked Reding. + +"It is not stated," answered No. 2; "but I am pretty sure Mr. O'Niggins +is a good French scholar." + +"It does not seem to me," said Charles, "that the Pope's admissions are +greater than those made continually by certain members of our own +Church, who are nevertheless accused of Popery." + +"But they are extorted from such persons," said Freeborn, "while the +Pope's were voluntary." + +"The one party go back into darkness," said No. 3; "the Pope was coming +forward into light." + +"One ought to interpret everything for the best in a real Papist," said +Freeborn, "and everything for the worst in a Puseyite. That is both +charity and common sense." + +"This was not all," continued No. 2; "he called together the Cardinals, +protested that he earnestly desired God's glory, said that inward +religion was all in all, and forms were nothing without a contrite +heart, and that he trusted soon to be in Paradise--which, you know, was +a denial of the doctrine of Purgatory." + +"A brand from the burning, I do hope," said No. 3. + +"It has frequently been observed," said No. 4, "nay it has struck me +myself, that the way to convert Romanists is first to convert the Pope." + +"It is a sure way, at least," said Charles timidly, afraid he was saying +too much; but his irony was not discovered. + +"Man cannot do it," said Freeborn; "it's the power of faith. Faith can +be vouchsafed even to the greatest sinners. You see now, perhaps," he +said, turning to Charles, "better than you did, what I meant by faith +the other day. This poor old man could have no merit; he had passed a +long life in opposing the Cross. Do your difficulties continue?" + +Charles had thought over their former conversation very carefully +several times, and he answered, "Why, I don't think they do to the same +extent." + +Freeborn looked pleased. + +"I mean," he said, "that the idea hangs together better than I thought +it did at first." + +Freeborn looked puzzled. + +Charles, slightly colouring, was obliged to proceed, amid the profound +silence of the whole party. "You said, you know, that justifying faith +was without love or any other grace besides itself, and that no one +could at all tell what it was, except afterwards, from its fruits; that +there was no test by which a person could examine himself, whether or +not he was deceiving himself when he thought he had faith, so that good +and bad might equally be taking to themselves the promises and the +privileges peculiar to the gospel. I thought this a hard doctrine +certainly at first; but, then, afterwards it struck me that faith is +perhaps a result of a previous state of mind, a blessed result of a +blessed state, and therefore may be considered the reward of previous +obedience; whereas sham faith, or what merely looks like faith, is a +judicial punishment." + +In proportion as the drift of the former part of this speech was +uncertain, so was the conclusion very distinct. There was no mistake, +and an audible emotion. + +"There is no such thing as previous merit," said No. 1; "all is of +grace." + +"Not merit, I know," said Charles, "but"---- + +"We must not bring in the doctrine of _de condigno_ or _de congruo_," +said No. 2. + +"But surely," said Charles, "it is a cruel thing to say to the unlearned +and the multitude, 'Believe, and you are at once saved; do not wait for +fruits, rejoice at once,' and neither to accompany this announcement by +any clear description of what faith is, nor to secure them by previous +religious training against self-deception!" + +"That is the very gloriousness of the doctrine," said Freeborn, "that it +is preached to the worst of mankind. It says, 'Come as you are; don't +attempt to make yourselves better. Believe that salvation is yours, and +it is yours: good works follow after.'" + +"On the contrary," said Charles, continuing his argument, "when it is +said that justification follows upon baptism, we have an intelligible +something pointed out, which every one can ascertain. Baptism is an +external unequivocal token; whereas that a man has this secret feeling +called faith, no one but himself can be a witness, and he is not an +unbiassed one." + +Reding had at length succeeded in throwing that dull tea-table into a +state of great excitement. "My dear friend," said Freeborn, "I had hoped +better things; in a little while, I hope, you will see things +differently. Baptism is an outward rite; what is there, can there be, +spiritual, holy, or heavenly in baptism?" + +"But you tell me faith too is not spiritual," said Charles. + +"_I_ tell you!" cried Freeborn, "when?" + +"Well," said Charles, somewhat puzzled, "at least you do not think it +holy." + +Freeborn was puzzled in his turn. + +"If it is holy," continued Charles, "it has something good in it; it has +some worth; it is not filthy rags. All the good comes afterwards, you +said. You said that its fruits were holy, but that it was nothing at all +itself." + +There was a momentary silence, and some agitation of thought. + +"Oh, faith is certainly a holy feeling," said No. 1. + +"No, it is spiritual, but not holy," said No. 2; "it is a mere act, the +apprehension of Christ's merits." + +"It is seated in the affections," said No. 3; "faith is a feeling of the +heart; it is trust, it is a belief that Christ is _my_ Saviour; all this +is distinct from holiness. Holiness introduces self-righteousness. Faith +is peace and joy, but it is not holiness. Holiness comes after." + +"Nothing can cause holiness but what is holy; this is a sort of axiom," +said Charles; "if the fruits are holy, faith, which is the root, is +holy." + +"You might as well say that the root of a rose is red, and of a lily +white," said No. 3. + +"Pardon me, Reding," said Freeborn, "it is, as my friend says, an +_apprehension_. An apprehension is a seizing; there is no more holiness +in justifying faith, than in the hand's seizing a substance which comes +in its way. This is Luther's great doctrine in his 'Commentary' on the +Galatians. It is nothing in itself--it is a mere instrument; this is +what he teaches, when he so vehemently resists the notion of justifying +faith being accompanied by love." + +"I cannot assent to that doctrine," said No. 1; "it may be true in a +certain sense, but it throws stumbling-blocks in the way of seekers. +Luther could not have meant what you say, I am convinced. Justifying +faith is always accompanied by love." + +"That is what I thought," said Charles. + +"That is the Romish doctrine all over," said No. 2; "it is the doctrine +of Bull and Taylor." + +"Luther calls it, '_venenum infernale_,'" said Freeborn. + +"It is just what the Puseyites preach at present," said No. 3. + +"On the contrary," said No. 1, "it is the doctrine of Melancthon. Look +here," he continued, taking his pocketbook out of his pocket, "I have +got his words down as Shuffleton quoted them in the Divinity-school the +other day: '_Fides significat fiduciam; in fiducidâ_ inest _dilectio; +ergo etiam dilectione sumus justi_.'" + +Three of the party cried "Impossible!" The paper was handed round in +solemn silence. + +"Calvin said the same," said No. 1 triumphantly. + +"I think," said No. 4, in a slow, smooth, sustained voice, which +contrasted with the animation which had suddenly inspired the +conversation, "that the con-tro-ver-sy, ahem, may be easily arranged. It +is a question of words between Luther and Melancthon. Luther says, ahem, +'faith is _without_ love,' meaning, 'faith without love justifies.' +Melancthon, on the other hand, says, ahem, 'faith is _with_ love,' +meaning, 'faith justifies with love.' Now both are true: for, ahem, +faith-without-love _justifies_, yet faith justifies _not-without-love_." + +There was a pause, while both parties digested this explanation. + +"On the contrary," he added, "it is the Romish doctrine that +faith-with-love justifies." + +Freeborn expressed his dissent; he thought this the doctrine of +Melancthon which Luther condemned. + +"You mean," said Charles, "that justification is given to faith _with_ +love, not to faith _and_ love." + +"You have expressed my meaning," said No. 4. + +"And what is considered the difference between _with_ and _and_?" asked +Charles. + +No. 4 replied without hesitation, "Faith is the _instrument_, love the +_sine quâ non_." + +Nos. 2 and 3 interposed with a protest; they thought it "legal" to +introduce the phrase _sine quâ non_; it was introducing _conditions_. +Justification was unconditional. + +"But is not faith a condition?" asked Charles. + +"Certainly not," said Freeborn; "'condition' is a legal word. How can +salvation be free and full, if it is conditional?" + +"There are no conditions," said No. 3; "all must come from the heart. We +believe with the heart, we love from the heart, we obey with the heart; +not because we are obliged, but because we have a new nature." + +"Is there no obligation to obey?" said Charles, surprised. + +"No obligation to the regenerate," answered No. 3; "they are above +obligation; they are in a new state." + +"But surely Christians are under a law," said Charles. + +"Certainly not," said No. 2; "the law is done away in Christ." + +"Take care," said No. 1; "that borders on Antinomianism." + +"Not at all," said Freeborn; "an Antinomian actually holds that he may +break the law: a spiritual believer only holds that he is not bound to +keep it." + +Now they got into a fresh discussion among themselves; and, as it seemed +as interminable as it was uninteresting, Reding took an opportunity to +wish his host a good night, and to slip away. He never had much leaning +towards the evangelical doctrine; and Freeborn and his friends, who knew +what they were holding a great deal better than the run of their party, +satisfied him that he had not much to gain by inquiring into that +doctrine farther. So they will vanish in consequence from our pages. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +When Charles got to his room he saw a letter from home lying on his +table; and, to his alarm, it had a deep black edge. He tore it open. +Alas, it announced the sudden death of his dear father! He had been +ailing some weeks with the gout, which at length had attacked his +stomach, and carried him off in a few hours. + +O my poor dear Charles, I sympathize with you keenly all that long +night, and in that indescribable waking in the morning, and that dreary +day of travel which followed it! By the afternoon you were at home. O +piercing change! it was but six or seven weeks before that you had +passed the same objects the reverse way, with what different feelings, +and oh, in what company, as you made for the railway omnibus! It was a +grief not to be put into words; and to meet mother, sisters--and the +Dead!... + +The funeral is over by some days; Charles is to remain at home the +remainder of the term, and does not return to Oxford till towards the +end of January. The signs of grief have been put away; the house looks +cheerful as before; the fire as bright, the mirrors as clear, the +furniture as orderly; the pictures are the same, and the ornaments on +the mantelpiece stand as they have stood, and the French clock tells the +hour, as it has told it, for years past. The inmates of the parsonage +wear, it is most true, the signs of a heavy bereavement; but they +converse as usual, and on ordinary subjects; they pursue the same +employments, they work, they read, they walk in the garden, they dine. +There is no change except in the inward consciousness of an overwhelming +loss. _He_ is not there, not merely on this day or that, for so it well +might be; he is not merely away, but, as they know well, he is gone and +will not return. That he is absent now is but a token and a memorial to +their minds that he will be absent always. But especially at dinner; +Charles had to take a place which he had sometimes filled, but then as +the deputy, and in the presence of him whom now he succeeded. His +father, being not much more than a middle-aged man, had been accustomed +to carve himself. And when at the meal of the day Charles looked up, he +had to encounter the troubled look of one, who, from her place at table, +had before her eyes a still more vivid memento of their common +loss;--_aliquid desideraverunt oculi_. + +Mr. Reding had left his family well provided for; and this, though a +real alleviation of their loss in the event, perhaps augmented the pain +of it at the moment. He had ever been a kind indulgent father. He was a +most respectable clergyman of the old school; pious in his sentiments, a +gentleman in his feelings, exemplary in his social relations. He was no +reader, and never had been in the way to gain theological knowledge; he +sincerely believed all that was in the Prayer Book, but his sermons were +very rarely doctrinal. They were sensible, manly discourses on the moral +duties. He administered Holy Communion at the three great festivals, saw +his Bishop once or twice a year, was on good terms with the country +gentlemen in his neighbourhood, was charitable to the poor, hospitable +in his housekeeping, and was a staunch though not a violent supporter of +the Tory interest in his county. He was incapable of anything harsh, or +petty, or low, or uncourteous; and died esteemed by the great houses +about him, and lamented by his parishioners. + +It was the first great grief poor Charles had ever had, and he felt it +to be real. How did the small anxieties which had of late teased him, +vanish before this tangible calamity! He then understood the difference +between what was real and what was not. All the doubts, inquiries, +surmises, views, which had of late haunted him on theological subjects, +seemed like so many shams, which flitted before him in sun-bright hours, +but had no root in his inward nature, and fell from him, like the +helpless December leaves, in the hour of his affliction. He felt now +_where_ his heart and his life lay. His birth, his parentage, his +education, his home, were great realities; to these his being was +united; out of these he grew. He felt he must be what Providence had +made him. What is called the pursuit of truth, seemed an idle dream. He +had great tangible duties to his father's memory, to his mother and +sisters, to his position; he felt sick of all theories, as if they had +taken him in; and he secretly resolved never more to have anything to do +with them. Let the world go on as it might, happen what would to others, +his own place and his own path were clear. He would go back to Oxford, +attend steadily to his books, put aside all distractions, avoid +bye-paths, and do his best to acquit himself well in the schools. The +Church of England as it was, its Articles, bishops, preachers, +professors, had sufficed for much better persons than he was; they were +good enough for him. He could not do better than imitate the life and +death of his beloved father; quiet years in the country at a distance +from all excitements, a round of pious, useful works among the poor, the +care of a village school, and at length the death of the righteous. + +At the moment, and for some time to come, he had special duties towards +his mother; he wished, as far as might be, to supply to her the place of +him she had lost. She had great trials before her still; if it was a +grief to himself to leave Hartley, what would it be to her? Not many +months would pass before she would have to quit a place ever dear, and +now sacred in her thoughts; there was in store for her the anguish of +dismantling the home of many years, and the toil and whirl of packing; a +wearied head and an aching heart at a time when she would have most need +of self-possession and energy. + +Such were the thoughts which came upon him again and again in those +sorrowful weeks. A leaf had been turned over in his life; he could not +be what he had been. People come to man's estate at very different +ages. Youngest sons in a family, like monks in a convent, may remain +children till they have reached middle age; but the elder, should their +father die prematurely, are suddenly ripened into manhood, when they are +almost boys. Charles had left Oxford a clever unformed youth; he +returned a man. + + + + +Part II. + +CHAPTER I. + + +About three miles from Oxford a thickly-wooded village lies on the side +of a steep, long hill or chine, looking over the Berkshire woods, and +commanding a view of the many-turreted city itself. Over its broad +summit once stretched a chestnut forest; and now it is covered with the +roots of trees, or furze, or soft turf. The red sand which lies +underneath contrasts with the green, and adds to its brilliancy; it +drinks in, too, the rain greedily, so that the wide common is nearly +always fit for walking; and the air, unlike the heavy atmosphere of the +University beneath it, is fresh and bracing. The gorse was still in +bloom, in the latter end of the month of June, when Reding and Sheffield +took up their abode in a small cottage at the upper end of this +village--so hid with trees and girt in with meadows that for the +stranger it was hard to find--there to pass their third and last Long +Vacation before going into the schools. + +A year and a half had passed since Charles's great affliction, and the +time had not been unprofitably spent either by himself or his friend. +Both had read very regularly, and Sheffield had gained the Latin verse +into the bargain. Charles had put all religious perplexities aside; that +is, he knew of course many more persons of all parties than he did +before, and became better acquainted with their tenets and their +characters, but he did not dwell upon anything which he met with, nor +attempt to determine the merits or solve the difficulties of this or +that question. He took things as they came; and, while he gave his mind +to his books, he thankfully availed himself of the religious privileges +which the College system afforded him. Nearly a year still remained +before his examination; and, as Mrs. Reding had not as yet fully +arranged her plans, but was still, with her daughters, passing from +friend to friend, he had listened to Sheffield's proposal to take a +tutor for the Vacation, and to find a site for their studies in the +neighbourhood of Oxford. There was every prospect of their both +obtaining the highest honours which the schools award: they both were +good scholars, and clever men; they had read regularly, and had had the +advantage of able lectures. + +The side of the hill forms a large, sweeping hollow or theatre just on +one side of the village of Horsley. The two extreme points may be half a +mile across; but the distance is increased to one who follows the path +which winds through the furze and fern along the ridge. Their tutor had +been unable to find lodgings in the village; and, while the two young +men lived on one extremity of the sweep we have been describing, Mr. +Carlton, who was not above three years older than they, had planted +himself at a farmhouse upon the other. Besides, the farmhouse suited +him better, as being nearer to a hamlet which he was serving during the +Vacation. + +"I don't think you like Carlton as well as I do," said Reding to +Sheffield, as they lay on the green sward with some lighter classic in +their hands, waiting for dinner, and watching their friend as he +approached them from his lodgings. "He is to me so taking a man; so +equable, so gentle, so considerate--he brings people together, and fills +them with confidence in himself and friendly feeling towards each other, +more than any person I know." + +"You are wrong," said Sheffield, "if you think I don't value him +extremely, and love him too; it's impossible not to love him. But he's +not the person quite to get influence over me." + +"He's too much of an Anglican for you," said Reding. + +"Not at all," said Sheffield, "except indirectly. My quarrel with him +is, that he has many original thoughts, and holds many profound truths +in detail, but is quite unable to see how they lie to each other, and +equally unable to draw consequences. He never sees a truth until he +touches it; he is ever groping and feeling, and, as in hide-and-seek, +continually burns without discovering. I know there are ten thousand +persons who cannot see an inch before their nose, and who can +comfortably digest contradictions; but Carlton is really a clever man; +he is no common thinker; this makes it so provoking. When I write an +essay for him--I know I write obscurely, and often do not bring out the +sequence of my ideas in due order, but, so it is--he is sure to cut out +the very thought or statement on which I especially pride myself, on +which the whole argument rests, which binds every part together; and he +coolly tells me that it is extravagant or far-fetched--not seeing that +by leaving it out he has made nonsense of the rest. He is a man to rob +an arch of its keystone, and then quietly to build his house upon it." + +"Ah, your old failing again," said Reding; "a craving after views. Now, +what I like in Carlton, is that repose of his;--always saying enough, +never too much; never boring you, never taxing you; always practical, +never in the clouds. Save me from a viewy man; I could not live with him +for a week, present company always excepted." + +"Now, considering how hard I have read, and how little I have talked +this year past, that is hard on me," said Sheffield. "Did not I go to be +one of old Thruston's sixteen pupils, last Long? He gave us capital +feeds, smoked with us, and coached us in Ethics and Agamemnon. He knows +his books by heart, can repeat his plays backwards, and weighs out his +Aristotle by grains and pennyweights; but, for generalizations, ideas, +poetry, oh, it was desolation--it was a darkness which could be felt!" + +"And you stayed there just six weeks out of four months, Sheffield," +answered Reding. + +Carlton had now joined them, and, after introductory greetings on both +sides, he too threw himself upon the turf. Sheffield said: "Reding and I +were disputing just now whether Nicias was a party man." + +"Of course you first defined your terms," said Carlton. + +"Well," said Sheffield, "I mean by a party man, one who not only belongs +to a party, but who has the _animus_ of party. Nicias did not make a +party, he found one made. He found himself at the head of it; he was no +more a party man than a prince who was born the head of his state." + +"I should agree with you," said Carlton; "but still I should like to +know what a party is, and what a party man." + +"A party," said Sheffield, "is merely an extra-constitutional or +extra-legal body." + +"Party action," said Charles, "is the exertion of influence instead of +law." + +"But supposing, Reding, there is no law existing in the quarter where +influence exerts itself?" asked Carlton. + +Charles had to explain: "Certainly," he said, "the State did not +legislate for all possible contingencies." + +"For instance," continued Carlton, "a prime minister, I have understood, +is not acknowledged in the Constitution; he exerts influence beyond the +law, but not, in consequence, against any existing law; and it would be +absurd to talk of him as a party man." + +"Parliamentary parties, too, are recognised among us," said Sheffield, +"though extra-constitutional. We call them parties; but who would call +the Duke of Devonshire or Lord John Russell, in a bad sense, a party +man?" + +"It seems to me," said Carlton, "that the formation of a party is +merely a recurrence to the original mode of forming into society. You +recollect Deioces; he formed a party. He gained influence; he laid the +foundation of social order." + +"Law certainly begins in influence," said Reding, "for it presupposes a +lawgiver; afterwards it supersedes influence; from that time the +exertion of influence is a sign of party." + +"Too broadly said, as you yourself just now allowed," said Carlton: "you +should say that law _begins_ to supersede influence, and that _in +proportion_ as it supersedes it, does the exertion of influence involve +party action. For instance, has not the Crown an immense personal +influence? we talk of the Court _party_; yet it does not interfere with +law, it is intended to conciliate the people to the law." + +"But it is recognized by law and constitution," said Charles, "as was +the Dictatorship." + +"Well, then, take the influence of the clergy," answered Carlton; "we +make much of that influence as a principle supplemental to the law, and +as a support to the law, yet not created or defined by the law. The law +does not recognize what some one calls truly a 'resident gentleman' in +every parish. Influence, then, instead of law is not necessarily the +action of party." + +"So again, national character is an influence distinct from the law," +said Sheffield, "according to the line, '_Quid leges sine moribus_?'" + +"Law," said Carlton, "is but gradually formed and extended. Well, then, +so far as there is no law, there is the reign of influence; there is +party without of necessity _party_ action. This is the justification of +Whigs and Tories at the present day; to supply, as Aristotle says on +another subject, the defects of the law. Charles I. exerted a regal, +Walpole a ministerial influence; but influence, not law, was the +operating principle in both cases. The object or the means might be +wrong, but the process could not be called party action." + +"You would justify, then," said Charles, "the associations or +confraternities which existed, for instance, in Athens; not, that is, if +they 'took the law into their own hands,' as the phrase goes, but if +there was no law to take, or if there was no constituted authority to +take it of right. It was a recurrence to the precedent of Deioces." + +"Manzoni gives a striking instance of this in the beginning of his +_Promessi Sposi_," said Sheffield, "when he describes that protection, +which law ought to give to the weak, as being in the sixteenth century +sought and found almost exclusively in factions or companies. I don't +recollect particulars, but he describes the clergy as busy in extending +their immunities, the nobility their privileges, the army their +exemptions, the trades and artisans their guilds. Even the lawyers +formed a union, and medical men a corporation." + +"Thus constitutions are gradually moulded and perfected," said Carlton, +"by extra-constitutional bodies, either coming under the protection of +law, or else being superseded by the law's providing for their objects. +In the middle ages the Church was a vast extra-constitutional body. The +German and Anglo-Norman sovereigns sought to bring its operation +_under_ the law; modern parliaments have superseded its operation _by +law_. Then the State wished to gain the right of investitures; now the +State marries, registers, manages the poor, exercises ecclesiastical +jurisdiction instead of the Church." + +"This will make ostracism parallel to the Reformation or the +Revolution," said Sheffield; "there is a battle of influence against +influence, and one gets rid of the other; law or constitution does not +come into question, but the will of the people or of the court ejects, +whether the too-gifted individual, or the monarch, or the religion. What +was not under the law could not be dealt with, had no claim to be dealt +with, by the law." + +"A thought has sometimes struck me," said Reding, "which falls in with +what you have been saying. In the last half-century there has been a +gradual formation of the popular party in the State, which now tends to +be acknowledged as constitutional, or is already so acknowledged. My +father never could endure newspapers--I mean the system of newspapers; +he said it was a new power in the State. I am sure I am not defending +what he was thinking of, the many bad proceedings, the wretched +principles, the arrogance and tyranny of newspaper writers, but I am +trying the subject by the test of your theory. The great body of the +people are very imperfectly represented in parliament; the Commons are +not their voice, but the voice of certain great interests. Consequently +the press comes in--to do that which the constitution does not do--to +form the people into a vast mutual-protection association. And this is +done by the same right that Deioces had to collect people about him; it +does not interfere with the existing territory of the law, but builds +where the constitution has not made provision. It _tends_, then, +ultimately to be recognised by the constitution." + +"There is another remarkable phenomenon of a similar kind now in process +of development," said Carlton, "and that is, the influence of agitation. +I really am not politician enough to talk of it as good or bad; one's +natural instinct is against it; but it may be necessary. However, +agitation is getting to be recognised as the legitimate instrument by +which the masses make their desires known, and secure the accomplishment +of them. Just as a bill passes in parliament, after certain readings, +discussions, speeches, votings, and the like, so the process by which an +act of the popular will becomes law is a long agitation, issuing in +petitions, previous to and concurrent with the parliamentary process. +The first instance of this was about fifty or sixty years ago, when ... +Hallo!" he cried, "who is this cantering up to us?" + +"I declare it is old Vincent," said Sheffield. + +"He is to come to dine," said Charles, "just in time." + +"How are you, Carlton?" cried Vincent. "How d'ye do, Mr. Sheffield? Mr. +Reding, how d'ye do? acting up to your name, I suppose, for you were +ever a reading man. For myself," he continued, "I am just now an eating +man, and am come to dine with you, if you will let me. Have you a place +for my horse?" + +There was a farmer near who could lend a stable; so the horse was led +off by Charles; and the rider, without any delay--for the hour did not +admit it--entered the cottage to make his brief preparation for dinner. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +In a few minutes all met together at table in the small parlour, which +was room of all work in the cottage. They had not the whole house, +limited as were its resources; for it was also the habitation of a +gardener, who took his vegetables to the Oxford market, and whose wife +(what is called) _did_ for his lodgers. + +Dinner was suited to the apartment, apartment to the dinner. The +book-table had been hastily cleared for a cloth, not over white, and, in +consequence, the sole remaining table, which acted as sideboard, +displayed a relay of plates and knives and forks, in the midst of +octavos and duodecimos, bound and unbound, piled up and thrown about in +great variety of shapes. The other ornaments of this side-table were an +ink-glass, some quires of large paper, a straw hat, a gold watch, a +clothes-brush, some bottles of ginger-beer, a pair of gloves, a case of +cigars, a neck-handkerchief, a shoe-horn, a small slate, a large +clasp-knife, a hammer, and a handsome inlaid writing-desk. + +"I like these rides into the country," said Vincent, as they began +eating, "the country loses its effect on me when I live in it, as you +do; but it is exquisite as a zest. Visit it, do not live in it, if you +would enjoy it. Country air is a stimulus; stimulants, Mr. Reding, +should not be taken too often. You are of the country party. I am of no +party. I go here and there--like the bee--I taste of everything, I +depend on nothing." + +Sheffield said that this was rather belonging to all parties than to +none. + +"That is impossible," answered Vincent; "I hold it to be altogether +impossible. You can't belong to two parties; there's no fear of it; you +might as well attempt to be in two places at once. To be connected with +both is to be united with neither. Depend on it, my young friend, +antagonist principles correct each other. It's a piece of philosophy +which one day you will thank me for, when you are older." + +"I have heard of an American illustration of this," said Sheffield, +"which certainly confirms what you say, sir. Professors in the United +States are sometimes of two or three religions at once, according as we +regard them historically, personally, or officially. In this way, +perhaps, they hit the mean." + +Vincent, though he so often excited a smile in others, had no humour +himself, and never could make out the difference between irony and +earnest. Accordingly he was brought to a stand. + +Charles came to his relief. "Before dinner," he said, "we were sporting +what you will consider a great paradox, I am afraid; that parties were +good things, or rather necessary things." + +"You don't do me justice," answered Vincent, "if this is what you think +I deny. I halve your words; parties are not good, but necessary; like +snails, I neither envy them their small houses, nor try to lodge in them +myself." + +"You mean," said Carlton, "that parties do our dirty work; they are our +beasts of burden; we could not get on without them, but we need not +identify ourselves with them; we may keep aloof." + +"That," said Sheffield, "is something like those religious professors +who say that it is sinful to engage in worldly though necessary +occupations; but that the reprobate undertake them, and work for the +elect." + +"There will always be persons enough in the world who like to be party +men, without being told to be so," said Vincent; "it's our business to +turn them to account, to use them, but to keep aloof. I take it, all +parties are partly right, only they go too far. I borrow from each, I +co-operate with each, as far as each is right, and no further. Thus I +get good from all, and I do good to all; for I countenance each, so far +as it is true." + +"Mr. Carlton meant more than that, sir," said Sheffield; "he meant that +the existence of parties was not only necessary and useful, but even +right." + +"Mr. Carlton is not the man to make paradoxes," said Vincent; "I suspect +he would not defend the extreme opinions, which, alas, exist among us at +present, and are progressing every day." + +"I was speaking of political parties," said Carlton, "but I am disposed +to extend what I said to religious also." + +"But, my good Carlton," said Vincent, "Scripture speaks against +religious parties." + +"Certainly I don't wish to oppose Scripture," said Carlton, "and I speak +under correction of Scripture; but I say this, that whenever and +wherever a church does not decide religious points, so far does it leave +the decision to individuals; and, since you can't expect all people to +agree together, you must have different opinions; and the expression of +those different opinions, by the various persons who hold them, is what +is called a party." + +"Mr. Carlton has been great, sir, on the general subject before dinner," +said Sheffield, "and now he draws the corollary, that whenever there are +parties in a church, a church may thank itself for them. They are the +certain effect of private judgment; and the more private judgment you +have, the more parties you will have. You are reduced, then, to this +alternative, no toleration or else party; and you must recognise party, +unless you refuse toleration." + +"Sheffield words it more strongly than I should do," said Carlton; "but +really I mean pretty much what he says. Take the case of the Roman +Catholics; they have decided many points of theology, many they have not +decided; and wherever there is no ecclesiastical decision, there they +have at once a party, or what they call a 'school;' and when the +ecclesiastical decision at length appears, then the party ceases. Thus +you have the Dominicans and Franciscans contending about the Immaculate +Conception; they went on contending because authority did not at once +decide the question. On the other hand, when Jesuits and Jansenists +disputed on the question of grace, the Pope gave it in favour of the +Jesuits, and the controversy at once came to an end." + +"Surely," said Vincent, "my good and worthy friend, the Rev. Charles +Carlton, Fellow of Leicester, and sometime Ireland Essayist, is not +preferring the Church of Rome to the Church of England?" + +Carlton laughed; "You won't suspect me of that, I think," he answered; +"no; all I say is, that our Church, from its constitution, admits, +approves of private judgment; and that private judgment, so far forth as +it is admitted, necessarily involves parties; the slender private +judgment allowed in the Church of Rome admitting occasional or local +parties, and the ample private judgment allowed in our Church +recognizing parties as an element of the Church." + +"Well, well, my good Carlton," said Vincent, frowning and looking wise, +yet without finding anything particular to say. + +"You mean," said Sheffield, "if I understand you, that it is a piece of +mawkish hypocrisy to shake the head and throw up the eyes at Mr. this or +that for being the head of a religious party, while we return thanks for +our pure and reformed Church; because purity, reformation, apostolicity, +toleration, all these boasts and glories of the Church of England, +establish party action and party spirit as a cognate blessing, for which +we should be thankful also. Party is one of our greatest ornaments, Mr. +Vincent." + +"A sentiment or argument does not lose in your hands," said Carlton; +"but what I meant was simply that party leaders are not dishonourable in +the Church, unless Lord John Russell or Sir Robert Peel hold a +dishonourable post in the State." + +"My young friend," said Vincent, finishing his mutton, and pushing his +plate from him, "my two young friends--for Carlton is not much older +than Mr. Sheffield--may you learn a little more judgment. When you have +lived to my age" (viz. two or three years beyond Carlton's) "you will +learn sobriety in all things. Mr. Reding, another glass of wine. See +that poor child, how she totters under the gooseberry-pudding; up, Mr. +Sheffield, and help her. The old woman cooks better than I had expected. +How do you get your butcher's meat here, Carlton? I should have made the +attempt to bring you a fine jack I saw in our kitchen, but I thought you +would have no means of cooking it." + +Dinner over, the party rose, and strolled out on the green. Another +subject commenced. + +"Was not Mr. Willis of St. George's a friend of yours, Mr. Reding?" +asked Vincent. + +Charles started; "I knew him a little ... I have seen him several +times." + +"You know he left us," continued Vincent, "and joined the Church of +Rome. Well, it is credibly reported that he is returning." + +"A melancholy history, anyhow," answered Charles; "most melancholy, if +this is true." + +"Rather," said Vincent, setting him right, as if he had simply made a +verbal mistake, "a most happy termination, you mean; the only thing that +was left for him to do. You know he went abroad. Any one who is +inclined to Romanize should go abroad; Carlton, we shall be sending you +soon. Here things are softened down; there you see the Church of Rome as +it really is. I have been abroad, and should know it. Such heaps of +beggars in the streets of Rome and Naples; so much squalidness and +misery; no cleanliness; an utter want of comfort; and such superstition; +and such an absence of all true and evangelical seriousness. They push +and fight while Mass is going on; they jabber their prayers at railroad +speed; they worship the Virgin as a goddess; and they see miracles at +the corner of every street. Their images are awful, and their ignorance +prodigious. Well, Willis saw all this; and I have it on good authority," +he said mysteriously, "that he is thoroughly disgusted with the whole +affair, and is coming back to us." + +"Is he in England now?" asked Reding. + +"He is said to be with his mother in Devonshire, who, perhaps you know, +is a widow; and he has been too much for her. Poor silly fellow, who +would not take the advice of older heads! A friend once sent him to me; +I could make nothing of him. I couldn't understand his arguments, nor he +mine. It was no good; he would make trial himself, and he has caught +it." + +There was a short pause in the conversation; then Vincent added, "But +such perversions, Carlton, I suppose, thinks to be as necessary as +parties in a pure Protestant Church." + +"I can't say you satisfy me, Carlton," said Charles; "and I am happy to +have the sanction of Mr. Vincent. Did political party make men rebels, +then would political party be indefensible; so is religious, if it +leads to apostasy." + +"You know the Whigs _were_ accused in the last war," said Sheffield, "of +siding with Bonaparte; accidents of this kind don't affect general rules +or standing customs." + +"Well, independent of this," answered Charles, "I cannot think religious +parties defensible on the considerations which justify political. There +is, to my feelings, something despicable in heading a religious party." + +"Was Loyola despicable," asked Sheffield, "or St. Dominic?" + +"They had the sanction of their superiors," said Charles. + +"You are hard on parties surely, Reding," said Carlton; "a man may +individually write, preach, and publish what he believes to be the +truth, without offence; why, then, does it begin to be wrong when he +does so together with others?" + +"Party tactics are a degradation of the truth," said Charles. + +"We have heard, I believe, before now," said Carlton, "of Athanasius +against the whole world, and the whole world against Athanasius." + +"Well," answered Charles, "I will but say this, that a party man must be +very much above par or below it." + +"There, again, I don't agree," said Carlton; "you are supposing the +leader of a party to be conscious of what he is doing; and, being +conscious, he may be, as you say, either much above or below the +average; but a man need not realise to himself that he is forming a +party." + +"That's more difficult to conceive," said Vincent, "than any statement +which has been hazarded this afternoon." + +"Not at all difficult," answered Carlton: "do you mean that there is +only one way of gaining influence? surely there is such a thing as +unconscious influence?" + +"I'd as easily believe," said Vincent, "that a beauty does not know her +charms." + +"That's narrow-minded," retorted Carlton: "a man sits in his room and +writes, and does not know what people think of him." + +"I'd believe it less," persisted Vincent: "beauty is a fact; influence +is an effect. Effects imply agents, agency, will and consciousness." + +"There are different modes of influence," interposed Sheffield; +"influence is often spontaneous and almost necessary." + +"Like the light on Moses' face," said Carlton. + +"Bonaparte is said to have had an irresistible smile," said Sheffield. + +"What is beauty itself, but a spontaneous influence?" added Carlton; +"don't you recollect 'the lovely young Lavinia' in Thomson?" + +"Well, gentlemen," said Vincent, "when I am Chancellor I will give a +prize essay on 'Moral Influence, its Kinds and Causes,' and Mr. +Sheffield shall get it; and as to Carlton, he shall be my Poetry +Professor when I am Convocation." + +You will say, good reader, that the party took a very short stroll on +the hill, when we tell you that they were now stooping their heads at +the lowly door of the cottage; but the terse _littera scripta_ abridges +wondrously the rambling _vox emissa_; and there might be other things +said in the course of the conversation which history has not +condescended to record. Anyhow, we are obliged now to usher them again +into the room where they had dined, and where they found tea ready laid, +and the kettle speedily forthcoming. The bread and butter were +excellent; and the party did justice to them, as if they had not lately +dined. "I see you keep your tea in tin cases," said Vincent; "I am for +glass. Don't spare the tea, Mr. Reding; Oxford men do not commonly fail +on that head. Lord Bacon says the first and best juice of the grape, +like the primary, purest, and best comment on Scripture, is not pressed +and forced out, but consists of a natural exudation. This is the case in +Italy at this day; and they call the juice '_lagrima_.' So it is with +tea, and with coffee too. Put in a large quantity, pour on the water, +turn off the liquor; turn it off at once--don't let it stand; it becomes +poisonous. I am a great patron of tea; the poet truly says, 'It cheers, +but not inebriates.' It has sometimes a singular effect upon my nerves; +it makes me whistle--so people tell me; I am not conscious of it. +Sometimes, too, it has a dyspeptic effect. I find it does not do to take +it too hot; we English drink our liquors too hot. It is not a French +failing; no, indeed. In France, that is, in the country, you get nothing +for breakfast but acid wine and grapes; this is the other extreme, and +has before now affected me awfully. Yet acids, too, have a soothing +sedative effect upon one; lemonade especially. But nothing suits me so +well as tea. Carlton," he continued mysteriously, "do you know the late +Dr. Baillie's preventive of the flatulency which tea produces? Mr. +Sheffield, do you?" Both gave up. "Camomile flowers; a little camomile, +not a great deal; some people chew rhubarb, but a little camomile in the +tea is not perceptible. Don't make faces, Mr. Sheffield; a little, I +say; a little of everything is best--_ne quid nimis_. Avoid all +extremes. So it is with sugar. Mr. Reding, you are putting too much into +your tea. I lay down this rule: sugar should not be a substantive +ingredient in tea, but an adjective; that is, tea has a natural +roughness; sugar is only intended to remove that roughness; it has a +negative office; when it is more than this, it is too much. Well, +Carlton, it is time for me to be seeing after my horse. I fear he has +not had so pleasant an afternoon as I. I have enjoyed myself much in +your suburban villa. What a beautiful moon! but I have some very rough +ground to pass over. I daren't canter over the ruts with the gravel-pits +close before me. Mr. Sheffield, do me the favour to show me the way to +the stable. Good-bye to you, Carlton; good night, Mr. Reding." + +When they were left to themselves Charles asked Carlton if he really +meant to acquit of party spirit the present party leaders in Oxford. +"You must not misunderstand me," answered he; "I do not know much of +them, but I know they are persons of great merit and high character, and +I wish to think the best of them. They are most unfairly attacked, that +is certain; however, they are accused of wishing to make a display, of +aiming at influence and power, of loving agitation, and so on. I cannot +deny that some things they have done have an unpleasant appearance, and +give plausibility to the charge. I wish they had, at certain times, +acted otherwise. Meanwhile, I do think it but fair to keep in view that +the existence of parties is no fault of theirs. They are but claiming +their birthright as Protestants. When the Church does not speak, others +will speak instead; and learned men have the best right to speak. Again, +when learned men speak, others will attend to them; and thus the +formation of a party is rather the act of those who follow than of those +who lead." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Sheffield had some friends residing at Chalton, a neighbouring village, +with a scholar of St. Michael's, who had a small cure with a house on +it. One of them, indeed, was known to Reding also, being no other than +our friend White, who was going into the schools, and during the last +six months had been trying to make up for the time he had wasted in the +first years of his residence. Charles had lost sight of him, or nearly +so, since he first knew him; and at their time of life so considerable +an interval could not elapse without changes in the character for good +or evil, or for both. Carlton and Charles, who were a good deal thrown +together by Sheffield's frequent engagements with the Chalton party, +were just turning homewards in their walk one evening when they fell in +with White, who had been calling at Mr. Bolton's in Oxford, and was +returning. They had not proceeded very far before they were joined by +Sheffield and Mr. Barry, the curate of Chalton; and thus the party was +swelled to five. + +"So you are going to lose Upton?" said Barry to Reding; "a capital +tutor; you can ill spare him. Who comes into his place?" + +"We don't know," answered Charles; "the Principal will call up one of +the Junior Fellows from the country, I believe." + +"Oh, but you won't get a man like Upton," said Carlton; "he knew his +subject so thoroughly. His lecture in the Agricola, I've heard your men +say, might have been published. It was a masterly, minute running +comment on the text, quite exhausting it." + +"Yes, it was his forte," said Charles; "yet he never loaded his +lectures; everything he said had a meaning, and was wanted." + +"He has got a capital living," said Barry; "a substantial modern house, +and by the rail only an hour from London." + +"And _500l._ a year," said White; "Mr. Bolton went over the living, and +told me so. It's in my future neighbourhood; a very beautiful country, +and a number of good families round about." + +"They say he's going to marry the Dean of Selsey's daughter," said +Barry; "do you know the family? Miss Juliet, the thirteenth, a very +pretty girl." + +"Yes," said White, "I know them all; a most delightful family; Mrs. +Bland is a charming woman, so very ladylike. It's my good luck to be +under the Dean's jurisdiction; I think I shall pull with him capitally." + +"He's a clever man," said Barry; "his charges are always well written; +he had a high name in his day at Cambridge." + +"Hasn't he been lately writing against your friends here, White?" said +Sheffield. + +"_My_ friends!" said White; "whom can you mean? He has written against +parties and party leaders; and with reason, I think. Oh, yes; he alluded +to poor Willis and some others." + +"It was more that that," insisted Sheffield; "he charged against certain +sayings and doings at St. Mary's." + +"Well, I for one cannot approve of all that is uttered from the pulpit +there," said White; "I know for a fact that Willis refers with great +satisfaction to what he heard there as inclining him to Romanism." + +"I wish preachers and hearers would all go over together at once, and +then we should have some quiet time for proper University studies," said +Barry. + +"Take care what you are saying, Barry," said Sheffield; "you mean +present company excepted. You, White, I think, come under the +denomination of hearers?" + +"I!" said White; "no such thing. I have been to hear him before now, as +most men have; but I think him often very injudicious, or worse. The +tendency of his preaching is to make one dissatisfied with one's own +Church." + +"Well," said Sheffield, "one's memory plays one tricks, or I should say +that a friend of mine had said ten times as strong things against our +Church as any preacher in Oxford ever did." + +"You mean me," said White, with earnestness; "you have misunderstood me +grievously. I have ever been most faithful to the Church of England. You +never heard me say anything inconsistent with the warmest attachment to +it. I have never, indeed, denied the claims of the Romish Church to be a +branch of the Catholic Church, nor will I,--that's another thing quite; +there are many things which we might borrow with great advantage from +the Romanists. But I have ever loved, and hope I shall ever venerate, my +own Mother, the Church of my baptism." + +Sheffield made an odd face, and no one spoke. White continued, +attempting to preserve an unconcerned manner: "It is remarkable," he +said, "that Mr. Bolton--who, though a layman, and no divine, is a +sensible, practical, shrewd man--never liked that pulpit; he always +prophesied no good would come of it." + +The silence continuing, White presently fell upon Sheffield. "I defy +you," he said, with an attempt to be jocular, "to prove what you have +been hinting; it is a great shame. It's so easy to speak against men, to +call them injudicious, extravagant, and so on. You are the only +person--" + +"Well, well, I know it, I know it," said Sheffield; "we're only +canonizing you, and I am the devil's advocate." + +Charles wanted to hear something about Willis; so he turned the current +of White's thoughts by coming up and asking him whether there was any +truth in the report he had heard from Vincent several weeks before; had +White heard from him lately? White knew very little about him +definitely, and was not able to say whether the report was true or not. +So far was certain, that he had returned from abroad and was living at +home. Thus he had not committed himself to the Church of Rome, whether +as a theological student or as a novice; but he could not say more. Yes, +he had heard one thing more; and the subject of a letter which he had +received from him corroborated it--that he was very strong on the point +that Romanism and Anglicanism were two religions; that you could not +amalgamate them; that you must be Roman or Anglican, but could not be +Anglo-Roman or Anglo-Catholic. "This is what a friend told me. In his +letter to myself," White continued, "I don't know quite what he meant, +but he spoke a good deal of the necessity of faith in order to be a +Catholic. He said no one should go over merely because he thought he +should like it better; that he had found out by experience that no one +could live on sentiment; that the whole system of worship in the Romish +Church was different from what it is in our own; nay, the very idea of +worship, the idea of prayers; that the doctrine of intention itself, +viewed in all its parts, constituted a new religion. He did not speak of +himself definitely, but he said generally that all this might be a great +discouragement to a convert, and throw him back. On the whole, the tone +of his letter was like a person disappointed, and who might be +reclaimed; at least, so I thought." + +"He is a wiser, even if he is a sadder man," said Charles: "I did not +know he had so much in him. There is more reflection in all this than so +excitable a person, as he seemed to me, is capable of exercising. At the +same time there is nothing in all this to prove that he is sorry for +what he has done." + +"I have granted this," said White; "still the effect of the letter was +to keep people back from following him, by putting obstacles in their +way; and then we must couple this with the fact of his going home." + +Charles thought awhile. "Vincent's testimony," he said, "is either a +confirmation or a mere exaggeration of what you have told me, according +as it is independent or not." Then he said to himself, "White, too, has +more in him than I thought; he really has spoken about Willis very +sensibly: what has come to him?" + +The paths soon divided; and while the Chalton pair took the right hand, +Carlton and his pupils turned to the left. Soon Carlton parted from the +two friends, and they reached their cottage just in time to see the +setting sun. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +A few days later, Carlton, Sheffield, and Reding were talking together +after dinner out of doors about White. + +"How he is altered," said Charles, "since I first knew him!" + +"Altered!" cried Sheffield; "he was a playful kitten once, and now he is +one of the dullest old tabbies I ever came across." + +"Altered for the better," said Charles; "he has now a steady sensible +way of talking; but he was not a very wise person two years ago; he is +reading, too, really hard." + +"He has some reason," said Sheffield, "for he is sadly behindhand; but +there is another cause of his steadiness which perhaps you know." + +"I! no indeed," answered Charles. + +"I thought of course you knew it," said Sheffield; "you don't mean to +say you have not heard that he is engaged to some Oxford girl?" + +"Engaged!" cried Charles, "how absurd!" + +"I don't see that at all, my dear Reding," said Carlton. "It's not as if +he could not afford it; he has a good living waiting for him; and, +moreover, he is thus losing no time, which is a great thing in life. +Much time is often lost. White will soon find himself settled in every +sense of the word, in mind, in life, in occupation." + +Charles said that there was one thing which could not help surprising +him, namely, that when White first came up he was so strong in his +advocacy of clerical celibacy. Carlton and Sheffield laughed. "And do +you think," said the former, "that a youth of eighteen can have an +opinion on such a subject, or knows himself well enough to make a +resolution in his own case? Do you really think it fair to hold a man +committed to all the random opinions and extravagant sayings into which +he was betrayed when he first left school?" + +"He had read some ultra-book or other," said Sheffield; "or had seen +some beautiful nun sculptured on a chancel-screen, and was carried away +by romance--as others have been and are." + +"Don't you suppose," said Carlton, "that those good fellows who now are +so full of 'sacerdotal purity,' 'angelical blessedness,' and so on, will +one and all be married by this time ten years?" + +"I'll take a bet of it," said Sheffield: "one will give in early, one +late, but there is a time destined for all. Pass some ten or twelve +years, as Carlton says, and we shall find A.B. on a curacy, the happy +father of ten children; C.D. wearing on a long courtship till a living +falls; E.F. in his honeymoon; G.H. lately presented by Mrs. H. with +twins; I.K. full of joy, just accepted; L.M. may remain what Gibbon +calls 'a column in the midst of ruins,' and a very tottering column +too." + +"Do you really think," said Charles, "that people mean so little what +they say?" + +"You take matters too seriously, Reding," answered Carlton; "who does +not change his opinions between twenty and thirty? A young man enters +life with his father's or tutor's views; he changes them for his own. +The more modest and diffident he is, the more faith he has, so much the +longer does he speak the words of others; but the force of +circumstances, or the vigour of his mind, infallibly obliges him at last +to have a mind of his own; that is, if he is good for anything." + +"But I suspect," said Reding, "that the last generation, whether of +fathers or tutors, had no very exalted ideas of clerical celibacy." + +"Accidents often clothe us with opinions which we wear for a time," said +Carlton. + +"Well, I honour people who wear their family suit; I don't honour those +at all who begin with foreign fashions and then abandon them." + +"A few years more of life," said Carlton, smiling, "will make your +judgment kinder." + +"I don't like talkers," continued Charles; "I don't think I ever shall; +I hope not." + +"I know better what's at the bottom of it," said Sheffield; "but I can't +stay; I must go in and read; Reding is too fond of a gossip." + +"Who talks so much as you, Sheffield?" said Charles. + +"But I talk fast when I talk," answered he, "and get through a great +deal of work; then I give over: but you prose, and muse, and sigh, and +prose again." And so he left them. + +"What does he mean?" asked Carlton. + +Charles slightly coloured and laughed: "You are a man I say things to, I +don't to others," he made answer; "as to Sheffield, he fancies he has +found it out of himself." + +Carlton looked round at him sharply and curiously. + +"I am ashamed of myself," said Charles, laughing and looking confused; +"I have made you think that I have something important to tell, but +really I have nothing at all." + +"Well, out with it," said Carlton. + +"Why, to tell the truth,--no, really, it is too absurd. I have made a +fool of myself." + +He turned away, then turned back, and resumed: + +"Why, it was only this, that Sheffield fancies I have some sneaking +kindness for ... celibacy myself." + +"Kindness for whom?" said Carlton. + +"Kindness for celibacy." + +There was a pause, and Carlton's face somewhat changed. + +"Oh, my dear good fellow," he said kindly, "so you are one of them; but +it will go off." + +"Perhaps it will," said Charles: "oh, I am laying no stress upon it. It +was Sheffield who made me mention it." + +A real difference of mind and view had evidently been struck upon by two +friends, very congenial and very fond of each other. There was a pause +for a few seconds. + +"You are so sensible a fellow, Reding," said Carlton, "it surprises me +that you should take up this notion." + +"It's no new notion taken up," answered Charles; "you will smile, but I +had it when a boy at school, and I have ever since fancied that I should +never marry. Not that the feeling has never intermitted, but it is the +habit of my mind. My general thoughts run in that one way, that I shall +never marry. If I did, I should dread Thalaba's punishment." + +Carlton put his hand on Reding's shoulder, and gently shook him to and +fro; "Well, it surprises me," he said; then, after a pause, "I have been +accustomed to think both celibacy and marriage good in their way. In the +Church of Rome great good, I see, comes of celibacy; but depend on it, +my dear Reding, you are making a great blunder if you are for +introducing celibacy into the Anglican Church." + +"There's nothing against it in Prayer Book or Articles," said Charles. + +"Perhaps not; but the whole genius, structure, working of our Church +goes the other way. For instance, we have no monasteries to relieve the +poor; and if we had, I suspect, as things are, a parson's wife would, in +practical substantial usefulness, be infinitely superior to all the +monks that were ever shaven. I declare, I think the Bishop of Ipswich is +almost justified in giving out that none but married men have a chance +of preferment from him; nay, the Bishop of Abingdon, who makes a rule of +bestowing his best livings as marriage portions to the most virtuous +young ladies in his diocese." Carlton spoke with more energy than was +usual with him. + +Charles answered, that he was not looking to the expediency or +feasibility of the thing, but at what seemed to him best in itself, and +what he could not help admiring. "I said nothing about the celibacy of +clergy," he observed, "but of celibacy generally." + +"Celibacy has no place in our idea or our system of religion, depend on +it," said Carlton. "It is nothing to the purpose, whether there is +anything in the Articles against it; it is not a question about formal +enactments, but whether the genius of Anglicanism is not utterly at +variance with it. The experience of three hundred years is surely +abundant for our purpose; if we don't know what our religion is in that +time, what time will be long enough? there are forms of religion which +have not lasted so long from first to last. Now enumerate the cases of +celibacy for celibacy's sake in that period, and what will be the sum +total of them? Some instances there are; but even Hammond, who died +unmarried, was going to marry, when his mother wished it. On the other +hand, if you look out for types of our Church can you find truer than +the married excellence of Hooker the profound, Taylor the devotional, +and Bull the polemical? The very first reformed primate is married; in +Pole and Parker, the two systems, Roman and Anglican, come into strong +contrast." + +"Well, it seems to me as much a yoke of bondage," said Charles, "to +compel marriage as to compel celibacy, and that is what you are really +driving at. You are telling me that any one is a black sheep who does +not marry." + +"Not a very practical difficulty to you at this moment," said Carlton; +"no one is asking you to go about on Coelebs' mission just now, with +Aristotle in hand and the class-list in view." + +"Well, excuse me," said Charles, "if I have said anything very foolish; +you don't suppose I argue on such subjects with others." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +They had by this time strolled as far as Carlton's lodgings, where the +books happened to be on which Charles was at that time more immediately +employed; and they took two or three turns under some fine beeches which +stood in front of the house before entering it. + +"Tell me, Reding," said Carlton, "for really I don't understand, what +are your reasons for admiring what, in truth, is simply an unnatural +state." + +"Don't let us talk more, my dear Carlton," answered Reding; "I shall go +on making a fool of myself. Let well alone, or bad alone, pray do." + +It was evident that there was some strong feeling irritating him +inwardly; the manner and words were too serious for the occasion. +Carlton, too, felt strongly upon what seemed at first sight a very +secondary question, or he would have let it alone, as Charles asked him. + +"No; as we are on the subject, let me get at your view," said he. "It +was said in the beginning, 'Increase and multiply;' therefore celibacy +is unnatural." + +"Supernatural," said Charles, smiling. + +"Is not that a word without an idea?" asked Carlton. "We are taught by +Butler that there is an analogy between nature and grace; else you might +parallel paganism to nature, and where paganism is contrary to nature, +say that it is supernatural. The Wesleyan convulsions are preternatural; +why not supernatural?" + +"I really think that our divines, or at least some of them, are on my +side here," said Charles--"Jeremy Taylor, I believe." + +"You have not told me what you mean by supernatural," said Carlton; "I +want to get at what _you_ think, you know." + +"It seems to me," said Charles, "that Christianity, being the perfection +of nature, is both like it and unlike it;--like it, where it is the same +or as much as nature; unlike it, where it is as much and more. I mean by +supernatural the perfection of nature." + +"Give me an instance," said Carlton. + +"Why, consider, Carlton; our Lord says, 'Ye have heard that it has been +said of old time,--but _I_ say unto you;' that contrast denotes the more +perfect way, or the gospel ... He came not to destroy, but to fulfil the +law ... I can't recollect of a sudden; ... oh, for instance, _this_ is a +case in point; He abolished a permission which had been given to the +Jews because of the hardness of their hearts." + +"Not quite in point," said Carlton, "for the Jews, in their divorces, +had fallen _below_ nature. 'Let no man put asunder,' was the rule in +Paradise." + +"Still, surely the idea of an Apostle, unmarried, pure, in fast and +nakedness, and at length a martyr, is a higher idea than that of one of +the old Israelites sitting under his vine and fig-tree, full of temporal +goods, and surrounded by sons and grandsons. I am not derogating from +Gideon or Caleb; I am adding to St. Paul." + +"St. Paul's is a very particular case," said Carlton. + +"But he himself lays down the general maxim, that it is 'good' for a man +to continue as he was." + +"There we come to a question of criticism, what 'good' means: I may +think it means 'expedient,' and what he says about the 'present +distress' confirms it." + +"Well, I won't go to criticism," said Charles; "take the text, 'in sin +hath my mother conceived me.' Do not these words show that, over and +above the doctrine of original sin, there is (to say the least) great +risk of marriage leading to sin in married people?" + +"My dear Reding," said Carlton, astonished, "you are running into +Gnosticism." + +"Not knowingly or willingly," answered Charles; "but understand what I +mean. It's not a subject I can talk about; but it seems to me, without +of course saying that married persons must sin (which would be +Gnosticism), that there is a danger of sin. But don't let me say more on +this point." + +"Well," said Carlton, after thinking awhile, "_I_ have been accustomed +to consider Christianity as the perfection of man as a whole, body, +soul, and spirit. Don't misunderstand me. Pantheists say body and +intellect, leaving out the moral principle; but I say spirit as well as +mind. Spirit, or the principle of religious faith and obedience, should +be the master principle, the _hegemonicon_. To this both intellect and +body are subservient; but as this supremacy does not imply the +ill-usage, the bondage of the intellect, neither does it of the body; +both should be well treated." + +"Well, I think, on the contrary, it does imply in one sense the bondage +of intellect and body too. What is faith but the submission of the +intellect? and as 'every high thought is brought into captivity,' so are +we expressly told to bring the body into subjection too. They are both +well treated, when they are treated so as to be made fit instruments of +the sovereign principle." + +"That is what I call unnatural," said Carlton. + +"And it is what I mean by supernatural," answered Reding, getting a +little too earnest. + +"How is it supernatural, or adding to nature, to destroy a part of it?" +asked Carlton. + +Charles was puzzled. It was a way, he said, _towards_ perfection; but he +thought that perfection came after death, not here. Our nature could not +be perfect with a corruptible body; the body was treated now as a body +of death. + +"Well, Reding," answered Carlton, "you make Christianity a very +different religion from what our Church considers it, I really think;" +and he paused awhile. + +"Look here," he proceeded, "how can we rejoice in Christ, as having been +redeemed by Him, if we are in this sort of gloomy penitential state? How +much is said in St. Paul about peace, thanksgiving, assurance, comfort, +and the like! Old things are passed away; the Jewish law is destroyed; +pardon and peace are come; _that_ is the Gospel." + +"Don't you think, then," said Charles, "that we should grieve for the +sins into which we are daily betrayed, and for the more serious offences +which from time to time we may have committed?" + +"Certainly; we do so in Morning and Evening Prayer, and in the Communion +Service." + +"Well, but supposing a youth, as is so often the case, has neglected +religion altogether, and has a whole load of sins, and very heinous +ones, all upon him,--do you think that, when he turns over a new leaf, +and comes to Communion, he is, on saying the Confession (saying it with +that contrition with which such persons ought to say it), pardoned at +once, and has nothing more to fear about his past sins?" + +"I should say, 'Yes,'" answered Carlton. + +"Really," said Charles thoughtfully. + +"Of course," said Carlton, "I suppose him truly sorry or penitent: +whether he is so or not his future life will show." + +"Well, somehow, I cannot master this idea," said Charles; "I think most +serious persons, even for a little sin, would go on fidgeting +themselves, and would not suppose they gained pardon directly they asked +for it." + +"Certainly," answered Carlton; "but God pardons those who do not pardon +themselves." + +"That is," said Charles, "who _don't_ at once feel peace, assurance, and +comfort; who _don't_ feel the perfect joy of the Gospel." + +"Such persons grieve, but rejoice too," said Carlton. + +"But tell me, Carlton," said Reding; "is, or is not, their not forgiving +themselves, their sorrow and trouble, pleasing to God?" + +"Surely." + +"Thus a certain self-infliction for sin committed is pleasing to Him; +and, if so, how does it matter whether it is inflicted on mind or body?" + +"It is not properly a self-infliction," answered Carlton; +"self-infliction implies intention; grief at sin is something +spontaneous. When you afflict yourself on purpose, then at once you pass +from pure Christianity." + +"Well," said Charles, "I certainly fancied that fasting, abstinence, +labours, celibacy, might be taken as a make-up for sin. It is not a very +far-fetched idea. You recollect Dr. Johnson's standing in the rain in +the market-place at Lichfield when a man, as a penance for some +disobedience to his father when a boy?" + +"But, my dear Reding," said Carlton, "let me bring you back to what you +said originally, and to my answer to you, which what you now say only +makes more apposite. You began by saying that celibacy was a perfection +of nature, now you make it a penance; first it is good and glorious, +next it is a medicine and punishment." + +"Perhaps our highest perfection here is penance," said Charles; "but I +don't know; I don't profess to have clear ideas upon the subject. I have +talked more than I like. Let us at length give over." + +They did, in consequence, pass to other subjects connected with +Charles's reading; then they entered the house, and set to upon +Polybius; but it could not be denied that for the rest of the day +Carlton's manner was not quite his own, as if something had annoyed him. +Next morning he was as usual. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +It is impossible to stop the growth of the mind. Here was Charles with +his thoughts turned away from religious controversy for two years, yet +with his religious views progressing, unknown to himself, the whole +time. It could not have been otherwise, if he was to live a religious +life at all. If he was to worship and obey his Creator, intellectual +acts, conclusions, and judgments, must accompany that worship and +obedience. He might not realize his own belief till questions had been +put to him; but then a single discussion with a friend, such as the +above with Carlton, would bring out what he really did hold to his own +apprehension--would ascertain for him the limits of each opinion as he +held it, and the inter-relations of opinion with opinion. He had not yet +given names to these opinions, much less had they taken a theological +form; nor could they, under his circumstances, be expressed in +theological language; but here he was, a young man of twenty-two, +professing in an hour's conversation with a friend, what really were the +Catholic doctrines and usages of penance, purgatory, councils of +perfection, mortification of self, and clerical celibacy. No wonder that +all this annoyed Carlton, though he no more than Charles perceived that +all this Catholicism did in fact lie hid under his professions; but he +felt, in what Reding put out, the presence of something, as he expressed +it, "very unlike the Church of England;" something new and unpleasant to +him, and withal something which had a body in it, which had a momentum, +which could not be passed over as a vague, sudden sound or transitory +cloud, but which had much behind it, which made itself felt, which +struck heavily. + +And here we see what is meant when a person says that the Catholic +system comes home to his mind, fulfils his ideas of religion, satisfies +his sympathies, and the like; and thereupon becomes a Catholic. Such a +person is often said to go by private judgment, to be choosing his +religion by his own standard of what a religion ought to be. Now it need +not be denied that those who are external to the Church must begin with +private judgment; they use it in order ultimately to supersede it; as a +man out of doors uses a lamp in a dark night, and puts it out when he +gets home. What would be thought of his bringing it into his +drawing-room? what would the goodly company there assembled before a +genial hearth and under glittering chandeliers, the bright ladies and +the well-dressed gentlemen, say to him if he came in with a great-coat +on his back, a hat on his head, an umbrella under his arm, and a large +stable-lantern in his hand? Yet what would be thought, on the other +hand, if he precipitated himself into the inhospitable night and the war +of the elements in his ball-dress? "When the king came in to see the +guests, he saw a man who had not on a wedding-garment;" he saw a man who +determined to live in the Church as he had lived out of it, who would +not use his privileges, who would not exchange reason for faith, who +would not accommodate his thoughts and doings to the glorious scene +which surrounded him, who was groping for the hidden treasure and +digging for the pearl of price in the high, lustrous, all-jewelled +Temple of the Lord of Hosts; who shut his eyes and speculated, when he +might open them and see. There is no absurdity, then, or inconsistency +in a person first using his private judgment and then denouncing its +use. Circumstances change duties. + +But still, after all, the person in question does not, strictly +speaking, judge of the external system presented to him by his private +ideas, but he brings in the dicta of that system to confirm and to +justify certain private judgments and personal feelings and habits +already existing. Reding, for instance, felt a difficulty in determining +how and when the sins of a Christian are forgiven; he had a great notion +that celibacy was better than married life. He was not the first person +in the Church of England who had had such thoughts; to numbers, +doubtless, before him they had occurred; but these numbers had looked +abroad, and seen nothing around them to justify what they felt, and +their feelings had, in consequence, either festered within them, or +withered away. But when a man, thus constituted within, falls under the +shadow of Catholicism without, then the mighty Creed at once produces an +influence upon him. He see that it justifies his thoughts, explains his +feelings; he understands that it numbers, corrects, harmonizes, +completes them; and he is led to ask what is the authority of this +foreign teaching; and then, when he finds it is what was once received +in England from north to south, in England from the very time that +Christianity was introduced here; that, as far as historical records go, +Christianity and Catholicism are synonymous; that it is still the faith +of the largest section of the Christian world; and that the faith of his +own country is held nowhere but within her own limits and those of her +own colonies; nay, further, that it is very difficult to say what faith +she has, or that she has any,--then he submits himself to the Catholic +Church, not by a process of criticism, but as a pupil to a teacher. + +In saying this, of course it is not denied, on the one hand, that there +may be persons who come to the Catholic Church on imperfect motives, or +in a wrong way; who choose it by criticism, and who, unsubdued by its +majesty and its grace, go on criticizing when they are in it; and who, +if they persist and do not learn humility, may criticize themselves out +of it again. Nor is it denied, on the other hand, that some who are not +Catholics may possibly choose (for instance) Methodism, in the above +moral way, viz. because it confirms and justifies the inward feeling of +their hearts. This is certainly possible in idea, though what there is +venerable, awful, superhuman, in the Wesleyan Conference to persuade one +to take it as a prophet, is a perplexing problem; yet, after all, the +matter of fact we conceive to lie the other way, viz. that Wesleyans +and other sectaries put themselves above their system, not below it; and +though they may in bodily position "sit under" their preacher, yet in +the position of their souls and spirits, minds and judgments, they are +exalted high above him. + +But to return to the subject of our narrative. What a mystery is the +soul of man! Here was Charles, busy with Aristotle and Euripides, +Thucydides and Lucretius, yet all the while growing towards the Church, +"to the measure of the age of the fulness of Christ." His mother had +said to him that he could not escape his destiny; it was true, though it +was to be fulfilled in a way which she, affectionate heart, could not +compass, did not dream of. He could not escape the destiny of being one +of the elect of God; he could not escape that destiny which the grace of +his Redeemer had stamped on his soul in baptism, which his good angel +had seen written there, and had done his zealous part to keep inviolate +and bright, which his own co-operation with the influences of Heaven had +confirmed and secured. He could not escape the destiny, in due time, in +God's time--though it might be long, though angels might be anxious, +though the Church might plead as if defrauded of her promised increase +of a stranger, yet a son; yet come it must, it was written in Heaven, +and the slow wheels of time each hour brought it nearer--he could not +ultimately escape his destiny of becoming a Catholic. And even before +that blessed hour, as an opening flower scatters sweets, so the strange +unknown odour, pleasing to some, odious to others, went abroad from him +upon the winds, and made them marvel what could be near them, and make +them look curiously and anxiously at him, while he was unconscious of +his own condition. Let us be patient with him, as his Maker is patient, +and bear that he should do a work slowly which he will do well. + +Alas! while Charles had been growing in one direction, Sheffield had +been growing in another; and what that growth had been will appear from +a conversation which took place between the two friends, and which shall +be related in the following chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Carlton had opened the small church he was serving for Saints'-day +services during the Long Vacation; and not being in the way to have any +congregation, and the church at Horsley being closed except on Sundays, +he had asked his two pupils to help him in this matter, by walking over +with him on St. Matthew's day, which, as the season was fine, and the +walk far from a dull one, they were very glad to do. When church was +over Carlton had to attend a sick call which lay still farther from +Horsley, and the two young men walked back together. + +"I did not know that Carlton was so much of a party man," said +Sheffield; "did not his reading the Athanasian Creed strike you?" + +"That's no mark of party, surely," answered Charles. + +"To read it on days like these, I think, _is_ a mark of party; it's +going out of the way." + +Charles did not see how obeying in so plain a matter the clear direction +of the Prayer Book could be a party act. + +"Direction!" said Sheffield, "as if the question were not, is that +direction now binding? the sense, the understanding of the Church of +this day determines its obligation." + +"The _prima facie_ view of the matter," said Charles, "is, that they who +do but follow what the Prayer Book enjoins are of all people farthest +from being a party." + +"Not at all," said Sheffield; "rigid adherence to old customs surely may +be the badge of a party. Now consider; ten years ago, before the study +of Church-history was revived, neither Arianism nor Athanasianism were +thought of at all, or, if thought of, they were considered as questions +of words, at least as held by most minds--one as good as the other." + +"I should say so, too, in one sense," said Charles, "that is, I should +hope that numbers of persons, for instance, the unlearned, who were in +Arian communities spoke Arian language, and yet did not mean it. I think +I have heard that some ancient missionary of the Goths or Huns was an +Arian." + +"Well, I will speak more precisely," said Sheffield: "an Oxford man, +some ten years since, was going to publish a history of the Nicene +Council, and the bookseller proposed to him to prefix an engraving of +St. Athanasius, which he had found in some old volume. He was strongly +dissuaded from doing so by a brother clergyman, not from any feeling of +his own, but because 'Athanasius was a very unpopular name among us.'" + +"One swallow does not make a spring," said Charles. + +"This clergyman," continued Sheffield, "was a friend of the most +High-Church writers of the day." + +"Of course," said Reding, "there has always been a heterodox school in +our Church--I know that well enough--but it never has been powerful. +Your lax friend was one of them." + +"I believe not, indeed," answered Sheffield; "he lived out of +controversy, was a literary, accomplished person, and a man of piety to +boot. He did not express any feeling of his own; he did but witness to a +fact, that the name of Athanasius was unpopular." + +"So little was known about history," said Charles, "this is not +surprising. St. Athanasius, you know, did not write the Creed called +after him. It is possible to think him intemperate, without thinking the +Creed wrong." + +"Well, then, again; there's Beatson, Divinity Professor; no one will +call him in any sense a party man; he was put in by the Tories, and +never has committed himself to any liberal theories in theology. Now, a +man who attended his private lectures assures me that he told the men, +'D'ye see,' said he, 'I take it, that the old Church-of-England mode of +handling the Creed went out with Bull. After Locke wrote, the old +orthodox phraseology came into disrepute.'" + +"Well, perhaps he meant," said Charles, "that learning died away, which +was the case. The old theological language is plainly a learned +language; when fathers and schoolmen were not read, of course it would +be in abeyance; when they were read again, it has revived." + +"No, no," answered Sheffield, "he said much more on another occasion. +Speaking of Creeds, and the like, 'I hold,' he said, 'that the majority +of the educated laity of our Church are Sabellians.'" + +Charles was silent, and hardly knew what reply to make. Sheffield went +on: "I was present some years ago, when I was quite a boy, when a sort +of tutor of mine was talking to one of the most learned and orthodox +divines of the day, a man whose name has never been associated with +party, and the near relation and connexion of high dignitaries, about a +plan of his own for writing a history of the Councils. This good and +able man listened with politeness, applauded the project; then added, in +a laughing way, 'You know you have chosen just the dullest subject in +Church-history. Now the Councils begin with the Nicene Creed, and +embrace nearly all doctrinal subjects whatever.'" + +"My dear Sheffield," said Charles, "you have fallen in with a particular +set or party of men yourself; very respectable, good men, I don't doubt, +but no fair specimens of the whole Church." + +"I don't bring them as authorities," answered Sheffield, "but as +witnesses." + +"Still," said Charles, "I know perfectly well, that there was a +controversy at the end of the last century between Bishop Horsley and +others, in which he brought out distinctly one part at least of the +Athanasian doctrine." + +"His controversy was not a defence of the Athanasian Creed, I know +well," said Sheffield; "for the subject came into Upton's +Article-lecture; it was with Priestley; but, whatever it was, divines +would only think it all very fine, just as his 'Sermons on Prophecy.' It +is another question whether they would recognize the worth either of the +one or of the other. They receive the scholastic terms about the +Trinity just as they receive the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist. +When Horsley says the latter, or something of the kind, good old +clergymen say, 'Certainly, certainly, oh yes, it's the old +Church-of-England doctrine,' thinking it right, indeed, to be +maintained, but not caring themselves to maintain it, or at most +professing it just when mentioned, but not really thinking about it from +one year's end to the other. And so with regard to the doctrine of the +Trinity, they say, 'the great Horsley,' 'the powerful Horsley;' they +don't indeed dispute his doctrine, but they don't care about it; they +look on him as a doughty champion, armed _cap-à-pie_, who has put down +dissent, who has cut off the head of some impudent non-protectionist, or +insane chartist, or spouter in a vestry, who, under cover of theology, +had run a tilt against tithes and church-rates." + +"I can't think so badly of our present divines," said Charles; "I know +that in this very place there are various orthodox writers, whom no one +would call party men." + +"Stop," said Sheffield, "understand me, I was not speaking _against_ +them. I was but saying that these anti-Athanasian views were not +unfrequent. I have been in the way of hearing a good deal on the subject +at my private tutor's, and have kept my eyes about me since I have been +here. The Bishop of Derby was a friend of Sheen's, my private tutor, and +got his promotion when I was with the latter; and Sheen told me that he +wrote to him on that occasion, 'What shall I read? I don't know anything +of theology.' I rather think he was recommended, or proposed to read +Scott's Bible." + +"It's easy to bring instances," said Charles, "when you have all your +own way; what you say is evidently all an _ex-parte_ statement." + +"Take again Shipton, who died lately," continued Sheffield; "what a high +position he held in the Church; yet it is perfectly well known that he +thought it a mistake to use the word 'Person' in the doctrine of the +Trinity. What makes this stranger is, that he was so very severe on +clergymen (Tractarians, for instance) who evade the sense of the +Articles. Now he was a singularly honest, straightforward man; he +despised money; he cared nothing for public opinion; yet he was a +Sabellian. Would he have eaten the bread of the Church, as it is called, +for a day, unless he had felt that his opinions were not inconsistent +with his profession as Dean of Bath, and Prebendary of Dorchester? Is it +not plain that he considered the practice of the Church to have +modified, to have re-interpreted its documents?" + +"Why," said Charles, "the practice of the Church cannot make black +white; or, if a sentence means yes, make it mean no. I won't deny that +words are often vague and uncertain in their sense, and frequently need +a comment, so that the teaching of the day has great influence in +determining their sense; but the question is, whether the +counter-teaching of every dean, every prebendary, every clergyman, every +bishop in the whole Church, could make the Athanasian Creed Sabellian; I +think not." + +"Certainly not," answered Sheffield; "but the clergymen I speak of +simply say that they are not bound to the details of the Creed, only to +the great outline that there is _a_ Trinity." + +"Great outline!" said Charles, "great stuff! an Unitarian would not deny +that. He, of course, believes in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; though he +thinks the Son a creature, and the Spirit an influence." + +"Well, I don't deny," said Sheffield, "that if Dean Shipton was a sound +member of the Church, Dr. Priestley might have been also. But my doubt +is, whether, if the Tractarian school had not risen, Priestley might not +have been, had he lived to this time, I will not say a positively sound +member, but sound enough for preferment." + +"_If_ the Tractarian school had not risen! that is but saying if our +Church was other than it is. What is that school but a birth, an +offspring of the Church? and if the Church had not given birth to one +party of men for its defence, it would have given birth to another." + +"No, no," said Sheffield, "I assure you the old school of doctrine was +all but run out when they began; and I declare I wish they had let +things alone. There was the doctrine of the Apostolical Succession; a +few good old men were its sole remaining professors in the Church; and a +great ecclesiastical personage, on one occasion, quite scoffed at their +persisting to hold it. He maintained the doctrine went out with the +non-jurors. 'You are so few,' he said, 'that we can count you.'" + +Charles was not pleased with the subject, on various accounts. He did +not like what seemed to him an attack of Sheffield's upon the Church of +England; and, besides, he began to feel uncomfortable misgivings and +doubts whether that attack was not well founded, to which he did not +like to be exposed. Accordingly he kept silence, and, after a short +interval, attempted to change the subject; but Sheffield's hand was in, +and he would not be balked; so he presently began again. "I have been +speaking," he said, "of the liberal section of our Church. There are +four parties in the Church. Of these the old Tory, or country party, +which is out-and-out the largest, has no opinion at all, but merely +takes up the theology or no-theology of the day, and cannot properly be +said to 'hold' what the Creed calls 'the Catholic faith.' It does not +deny it; it may not knowingly disbelieve it; but it gives no signs of +actually holding it, beyond the fact that it treats it with respect. I +will venture to say, that not a country parson of them all, from year's +end to year's end, makes once a year what Catholics call 'an act of +faith' in that special and very distinctive mystery contained in the +clauses of the Athanasian Creed." + +Then, seeing Charles looked rather hurt, he added, "I am not speaking of +any particular clergyman here or there, but of the great majority of +them. After the Tory party comes the Liberal; which also dislikes the +Athanasian Creed, as I have said. Thirdly, as to the Evangelical; I know +you have one of the Nos. of the 'Tracts for the Times' about objective +faith. Now that tract seems to prove that the Evangelical party is +implicitly Sabellian, and is tending to avow that belief. This too has +been already the actual course of Evangelical doctrine both on the +Continent and in America. The Protestants of Geneva, Holland, Ulster, +and Boston have all, I believe, become Unitarians, or the like. Dr. Adam +Clarke too, the celebrated Wesleyan, held the distinguishing Sabellian +tenet, as Doddridge is said to have done before him. All this +considered, I do think I have made out a good case for my original +assertion, that at this time of day it is a party thing to go out of the +way to read the Athanasian Creed." + +"I don't agree with you at all," said Charles; "you say a great deal +more than you have a warrant to do, and draw sweeping conclusions from +slender premisses. This, at least, is what it seems to me. I wish too +you would not so speak of 'making out a case.' It is as if these things +were mere topics for disputation. And I don't like your taking the wrong +side; you are rather fond of doing so." + +"Reding," answered Sheffield, "I speak what I think, and ever will do +so; I will be no party man. I don't attempt, like Vincent, to unite +opposites. He is of all parties, I am of none. I think I see pretty well +the hollowness of all." + +"O my dear Sheffield," cried Charles, in distress, "think what you are +saying; you don't mean what you say. You are speaking as if you thought +that belief in the Athanasian Creed was a mere party opinion." + +Sheffield first was silent; then he said, "Well, I beg your pardon, if +I have said anything to annoy you, or have expressed myself +intemperately. But surely one has no need to believe what so many people +either disbelieve or disregard." + +The subject then dropped; and presently Carlton overtook them on the +farmer's pony, which he had borrowed. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Reding had for near two years put aside his doubts about the Articles; +but it was like putting off the payment of a bill--a respite, not a +deliverance. The two conversations which we have been recording, +bringing him to issue on most important subjects first with one, then +with another, of two intimate friends, who were bound by the Articles as +well as he, uncomfortably reminded him of his debt to the University and +Church; and the nearer approach of his examination and degree inflicted +on him the thought that the time was coming when he must be prepared to +discharge it. + +One day, when he was strolling out with Carlton, toward the end of the +Vacation, he had been led to speak of the number of religious opinions +and parties in Oxford, which had so many bad effects, making so many +talk, so many criticise, and not a few perhaps doubt about truth +altogether. Then he said that, evil as it was in a place of education, +yet he feared it was unavoidable, if Carlton's doctrine about parties +were correct; for if there was a place where differences of religious +opinions would show themselves, it would be in a university. + +"I am far from denying it," said Carlton; "but all systems have their +defects; no polity, no theology, no ritual is perfect. One only came +directly and simply from Heaven, the Jewish; and even that was removed +because of its unprofitableness. This is no derogation from the +perfection of Divine Revelation, for it arises from the subject-matter +on and through which it operates." There was a pause; then Carlton went +on: "It is the fault of most young thinkers to be impatient, if they do +not find perfection in everything; they are 'new brooms.'" Another +pause; he went on again: "What form of religion is _less_ objectionable +than ours? You _see_ the inconveniences of your own system, for you +experience them; you have not felt, and cannot know, those of others." + +Charles was still silent, and went on plucking and chewing leaves from +the shrubs and bushes through which their path winded. At length he +said, "_I_ should not like to say it to any one but you, Carlton, but, +do you know, I was very uncomfortable about the Articles, going on for +two years since; I really could not understand them, and their history +makes matters worse. I put the subject from me altogether; but now that +my examination and degree are coming on, I must take it up again." + +"You must have been put into the Article-lecture early," said Carlton. + +"Well, perhaps I was not up to the subject," answered Charles. + +"I didn't mean that," said Carlton; "but as to the thing itself, my dear +fellow, it happens every day, and especially to thoughtful people like +yourself. It should not annoy you." + +"But my fidget is," said Charles, "lest my difficulties should return, +and I should not be able to remove them." + +"You should take all these things calmly," said Carlton; "all things, as +I have said, have their difficulties. If you wait till everything is as +it should be or might be conceivably, you will do nothing, and will lose +life. The moral and social world is not an open country; it is already +marked and mapped out; it has its roads. You can't go across country; if +you attempt a steeple-chase, you will break your neck for your pains. +Forms of religion are facts; they have each their history. They existed +before you were born, and will survive you. You must choose, you cannot +make." + +"I know," said Reding, "I can't make a religion, nor can I perhaps find +one better than my own. I don't want to do so; but this is not my +difficulty. Take your own image. I am jogging along my own old road, and +lo, a high turnpike, fast locked; and my poor pony can't clear it. I +don't complain; but there's the fact, or at least may be." + +"The pony must," answered Carlton; "or if not, there must be some way +about; else what is the good of a road? In religion all roads have their +obstacles; one has a strong gate across it, another goes through a bog. +Is no one to go on? Is religion to be at a deadlock? Is Christianity to +die out? Where else will you go? Not surely to Methodism, or +Plymouth-brotherism. As to the Romish Church, I suspect it has more +difficulties than we have. You _must_ sacrifice your private judgment." + +"All this is very good," answered Charles; "but what is very expedient +still may be very impossible. The finest words about the necessity of +getting home before nightfall will not enable my poor little pony to +take the gate." + +"Certainly not," said Carlton; "but if you had a command from a +benevolent Prince, your own Sovereign and Benefactor, to go along the +road steadily till evening, and he would meet you at the end of your +journey, you would be quite sure that he who had appointed the end had +also assigned the means. And, in the difficulty in question, you ought +to look out for some mode of opening the gate, or some gap in the hedge, +or some parallel cut, some way or other, which would enable you to turn +the difficulty." + +Charles said that somehow he did not like this mode of arguing; it +seemed dangerous; he did not see whither it went, where it ended. +Presently he said, abruptly, "Why do you think there are more +difficulties in the Church of Rome?" + +"Clearly there are," answered Carlton; "if the Articles are a crust, is +not Pope Pius's Creed a bone?" + +"I don't know Pope Pius's Creed," said Charles; "I know very little +about the state of the case, certainly. What does it say?" + +"Oh, it includes transubstantiation, purgatory, saint-worship, and the +rest," said Carlton; "I suppose you could not quite subscribe these?" + +"It depends," answered Charles slowly, "on this--on what authority they +came to me." He stopped, and then went on: "Of course I could, if they +came to me on the same authority as the doctrine of the Blessed Trinity +comes. Now, the Articles come on no authority; they are the views of +persons in the 16th century; and, again, it is not clear how far they +are, or are not, modified by the unauthoritative views of the 19th. I am +obliged, then, to exercise my own judgment; and I candidly declare to +you, that my judgment is unequal to so great a task. At least, this is +what troubles me, whenever the subject rises in my mind; for I have put +it from me." + +"Well, then," said Carlton, "take them on _faith_." + +"You mean, I suppose," said Charles, "that I must consider our Church +_infallible_." + +Carlton felt the difficulty; he answered, "No, but you must act _as if_ +it were infallible, from a sense of duty." + +Charles smiled; then he looked grave; he stood still, and his eyes fell. +"If I _am_ to make a Church infallible," he said, "if I _must_ give up +private judgment, if I _must_ act on faith, there _is_ a Church which +has a greater claim on us all than the Church of England." + +"My dear Reding," said Carlton, with some emotion, "where did you get +these notions?" + +"I don't know," answered Charles; "somebody has said that they were in +the air. I have talked to no one, except one or two arguments I had with +different persons in my first year. I have driven the subject from me; +but when I once begin, you see it will out." + +They walked on awhile in silence. "Do you really mean to say," asked +Carlton at length, "that it is so difficult to understand and receive +the Articles? To me they are quite clear enough, and speak the language +of common sense." + +"Well, they seem to me," said Reding, "sometimes inconsistent with +themselves, sometimes with the Prayer Book; so that I am suspicious of +them; I don't know _what_ I am signing when I sign, yet I ought to sign +_ex-animo_. A blind submission I could make; I cannot make a blind +declaration." + +"Give me some instances," said Carlton. + +"For example," said Charles, "they distinctly receive the Lutheran +doctrine of justification by faith only, which the Prayer Book virtually +opposes in every one of its Offices. They refer to the Homilies as +authority, yet the Homilies speak of the books of the Apocrypha as +inspired, which the Articles implicitly deny. The Articles about +Ordination are in their spirit contrary to the Ordination Service. One +Article on the Sacraments speaks the doctrine of Melancthon, another +that of Calvin. One Article speaks of the Church's authority in +controversies of faith, yet another makes Scripture the ultimate appeal. +These are what occur to me at the moment." + +"Surely, many of these are but verbal difficulties, at the very first +glance," said Carlton, "and all may be surmounted with a little care." + +"On the other hand, it has struck me," continued Charles, "that the +Church of Rome is undeniably consistent in her formularies; this is the +very charge some of our writers make upon her, that she is so +systematic. It may be a hard, iron system, but it is consistent." + +Carlton did not wish to interrupt him, thinking it best to hear his +whole difficulty; so Charles proceeded: "When a system is consistent, at +least it does not condemn itself. Consistency is not truth, but truth is +consistency. Now, I am not a fit judge whether or not a certain system +is true, but I may be quite a judge whether it is consistent with +itself. When an oracle equivocates it carries with it its own +condemnation. I almost think there is something in Scripture on this +subject, comparing in this respect the pagan and the inspired +prophecies. And this has struck me, too, that St. Paul gives this very +account of a heretic, that he is 'condemned of himself,' bearing his own +condemnation on his face. Moreover, I was once in the company of +Freeborn (I don't know if you are acquainted with him) and others of the +Evangelical party, and they showed plainly, if they were to be trusted, +that Luther and Melancthon did not agree together on the prime point of +justification by faith; a circumstance which had not come into the +Article-lecture. Also I have read somewhere, or heard in some sermon, +that the ancient heretics always were inconsistent, never could state +plainly their meaning, much less agree together; and thus, whether they +would or no, could not help giving to the simple a warning of their true +character, as if by their rattle." + +Charles stopped; presently he continued: "This too has struck me; that +either there is no prophet of the truth on earth, or the Church of Rome +is that prophet. That there is a prophet still, or apostle, or +messenger, or teacher, or whatever he is to be called, seems evident by +our believing in a visible Church. Now common sense tells us what a +messenger from God must be; first, he must not contradict himself, as I +have just been saying. Again, a prophet of God can allow of no rival, +but denounces all who make a separate claim, as the prophets do in +Scripture. Now, it is impossible to say whether our Church acknowledges +or not Lutheranism in Germany, Calvinism in Switzerland, the Nestorian +and Monophysite bodies in the East. Nor does it clearly tell us what +view it takes of the Church of Rome. The only place where it recognizes +its existence is in the Homilies, and there it speaks of it as +Antichrist. Nor has the Greek Church any intelligible position in +Anglican doctrine. On the other hand, the Church of Rome has this _prima +facie_ mark of a prophet, that, like a prophet in Scripture, it admits +no rival, and anathematizes all doctrine counter to its own. There's +another thing: a prophet of God is of course at home with his message; +he is not helpless and do-nothing in the midst of errors and in the war +of opinions. He knows what has been given him to declare, how far it +extends; he can act as an umpire; he is equal to emergencies. This again +tells in favour of the Church of Rome. As age after age comes she is +ever on the alert, questions every new comer, sounds the note of alarm, +hews down strange doctrine, claims and locates and perfects what is new +and true. The Church of Rome inspires me with confidence; I feel I can +trust her. It is another thing whether she is true; I am not pretending +now to decide that. But I do not feel the like trust in our own Church. +I love her more than I trust her. She leaves me without faith. Now you +see the state of my mind." He fetched a deep, sharp sigh, as if he had +got a load off him. + +"Well," said Carlton, when he had stopped, "this is all very pretty +theory; whether it holds in matter of fact, is another question. We have +been accustomed hitherto to think Chillingworth right, when he talks of +popes against popes, councils against councils, and so on. Certainly you +will not be allowed by Protestant controversialists to assume this +perfect consistency in Romish doctrine. The truth is, you have read very +little; and you judge of truth, not by facts, but by notions; I mean, +you think it enough if a notion hangs together; though you disavow it, +still, in matter of fact, consistency _is_ truth to you. Whether facts +answer to theories you cannot tell, and you don't inquire. Now I am not +well read in the subject, but I know enough to be sure that Romanists +will have more work to prove their consistency than you anticipate. For +instance, they appeal to the Fathers, yet put the Pope above them; they +maintain the infallibility of the Church, and prove it by Scripture, and +then they prove Scripture by the Church. They think a General Council +infallible, _when_, but not _before_, the Pope has ratified it; +Bellarmine, I think, gives a list of General Councils which have erred. +And I never have been able to make out the Romish doctrine of +Indulgences." + +Charles thought over this; then he said, "Perhaps the case is as you +say, that I ought to know the matter of fact more exactly before +attempting to form a judgment on the subject; but, my dear Carlton, I +protest to you, and you may think with what distress I say it, that if +the Church of Rome is as ambiguous as our own Church, I shall be in the +way to become a sceptic, on the very ground that I shall have no +competent authority to tell me what to believe. The Ethiopian said, 'How +can I know, unless some man do teach me?' and St. Paul says, 'Faith +cometh by hearing.' If no one claims my faith, how can I exercise it? At +least I shall run the risk of becoming a Latitudinarian; for if I go by +Scripture only, certainly there is no creed given us in Scripture." + +"Our business," said Carlton, "is to make the best of things, not the +worst. Do keep this in mind; be on your guard against a strained and +morbid view of things. Be cheerful, be natural, and all will be easy." + +"You are always kind and considerate," said Charles; "but, after all--I +wish I could make you see it--you have not a word to say by way of +meeting my original difficulty of subscription. How am I to leap over +the wall? It's nothing to the purpose that other communions have their +walls also." + +They now neared home, and concluded their walk in silence, each being +fully occupied with the thoughts which the conversation had suggested. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The Vacation passed away silently and happily. Day succeeded day in +quiet routine employments, bringing insensible but sure accessions to +the stock of knowledge and to the intellectual proficiency of both our +students. Historians and orators were read for a last time, and laid +aside; sciences were digested; commentaries were run through; and +analyses and abstracts completed. It was emphatically a silent toil. +While others might be steaming from London to Bombay or the Havannah, +and months in the retrospect might look like years, with Reding and +Sheffield the week had scarcely begun when it was found to be ending; +and when October came, and they saw their Oxford friends again, at first +they thought they had a good deal to say to them, but when they tried, +they found it did but concern minute points of their own reading and +personal matters; and they were reduced to silence with the wish to +speak. + +The season had changed, and reminded them that Horsley was a place for +summer sojourn, not a dwelling. There were heavy raw fogs hanging about +the hills, and storms of wind and rain. The grass no longer afforded +them a seat; and when they betook themselves indoors it was discovered +that the doors and windows did not shut close, and that the chimney +smoked. Then came those fruits, the funeral feast of the year, +mulberries and walnuts; the tasteless, juiceless walnut; the dark +mulberry, juicy but severe, and mouldy withal, as gathered not from the +tree, but from the damp earth. And thus that green spot itself weaned +them from the love of it. Charles looked around him, and rose to depart +as a _conviva satur_. "_Edisti satis, tempus abire_" seemed written upon +all. The swallows had taken leave; the leaves were paling; the light +broke late, and failed soon. The hopes of spring, the peace and calm of +summer, had given place to the sad realities of autumn. He was hurrying +to the world, who had been up on the mount; he had lived without jars, +without distractions, without disappointments; and he was now to take +them as his portion. For he was but a child of Adam; Horsley had been +but a respite; and he had vividly presented to his memory the sad +reverse which came upon him two years before--what a happy summer--what +a forlorn autumn! With these thoughts, he put up his books and papers, +and turned his face towards St. Saviour's. + +Oxford, too, was not quite what it had been to him; the freshness of his +admiration for it was over; he now saw defects where at first all was +excellent and good; the romance of places and persons had passed away. +And there were changes too: of his contemporaries some had already taken +their degrees and left; others were reading in the country; others had +gone off to other Colleges on Fellowships. A host of younger faces had +sprung up in hall and chapel, and he hardly knew their names. Rooms +which formerly had been his familiar lounge were now tenanted by +strangers, who claimed to have that right in them which, to his +imagination, could only attach to those who had possessed them when he +himself came into residence. The College seemed to have deteriorated; +there was a rowing set, which had not been there before, a number of +boys, and a large proportion of snobs. + +But, what was a real trouble to Charles, it got clearer and clearer to +his apprehension that his intimacy with Sheffield was not quite what it +had been. They had, indeed, passed the Vacation together, and saw of +each other more than ever: but their sympathies in each other were not +as strong, they had not the same likings and dislikings; in short, they +had not such congenial minds as they fancied when they were freshmen. +There was not so much heart in their conversations, and they more easily +endured to miss each other's company. They were both reading for +honours--reading hard; but Sheffield's whole heart was in his work, and +religion was but a secondary matter to him. He had no doubts, +difficulties, anxieties, sorrows, which much affected him. It was not +the certainty of faith which made a sunshine to his soul, and dried up +the mists of human weakness; rather, he had no perceptible need within +him of that vision of the Unseen which is the Christian's life. He was +unblemished in his character, exemplary in his conduct; but he was +content with what the perishable world gave him. Charles's +characteristic, perhaps above anything else, was an habitual sense of +the Divine Presence; a sense which, of course, did not insure +uninterrupted conformity of thought and deed to itself, but still there +it was--the pillar of the cloud before him and guiding him. He felt +himself to be God's creature, and responsible to Him--God's possession, +not his own. He had a great wish to succeed in the schools; a thrill +came over him when he thought of it; but ambition was not his life; he +could have reconciled himself in a few minutes to failure. Thus +disposed, the only subjects on which the two friends freely talked +together were connected with their common studies. They read together, +examined each other, used and corrected each other's papers, and solved +each other's difficulties. Perhaps it scarcely came home to Sheffield, +sharp as he was, that there was any flagging of their intimacy. +Religious controversy had been the food of his active intellect when it +was novel; now it had lost its interest, and his books took its place. +But it was far different with Charles; he had felt interest in religious +questions for their own sake; and when he had deprived himself of the +pursuit of them it had been a self-denial. Now, then, when they seemed +forced on him again, Sheffield could not help him, where he most wanted +the assistance of a friend. + +A still more tangible trial was coming on him. The reader has to be told +that there was at that time a system of espionage prosecuted by various +well-meaning men, who thought it would be doing the University a service +to point out such of its junior members as were what is called +"papistically inclined." They did not perceive the danger such a course +involved of disposing young men towards Catholicism, by attaching to +them the bad report of it, and of forcing them farther by inflicting on +them the inconsistencies of their position. Ideas which would have lain +dormant or dwindled away in their minds were thus fixed, defined, +located within them; and the fear of the world's censure no longer +served to deter, when it had been actually incurred. When Charles +attended the tea-party at Freeborn's he was on his trial; he was +introduced not only into a school, but into an inquisition; and since he +did not promise to be a subject for spiritual impression, he was +forthwith a subject for spiritual censure. He became a marked man in the +circles of Capel Hall and St. Mark's. His acquaintance with Willis; the +questions he had asked at the Article-lecture; stray remarks at +wine-parties--were treasured up, and strengthened the case against him. +One time, on coming into his rooms, he found Freeborn, who had entered +to pay him a call, prying into his books. A volume of sermons, of the +school of the day, borrowed of a friend for the sake of illustrating +Aristotle, lay on his table; and in his bookshelves one of the more +philosophical of the "Tracts for the Times" was stuck in between a +Hermann _De Metris_ and a Thucydides. Another day his bedroom door was +open, and No. 2 of the tea-party saw one of Overbeck's sacred prints +pinned up against the wall. + +Facts like these were, in most cases, delated to the Head of the House +to which a young man belonged; who, as a vigilant guardian of the purity +of his undergraduates' Protestantism, received the information with +thankfulness, and perhaps asked the informer to dinner. It cannot be +denied that in some cases this course of action succeeded in frightening +and sobering the parties towards whom it was directed. White was thus +reclaimed to be a devoted son and useful minister of the Church of +England; but it was a kill-or-cure remedy, and not likely to answer with +the more noble or the more able minds. What effect it had upon Charles, +or whether any, must be determined by the sequel; here it will suffice +to relate interviews which took place between him and the Principal and +Vice-Principal of his College in consequence of it. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +When Reding presented himself to the Vice-Principal, the Rev. Joshua +Jennings, to ask for leave to reside in lodgings for the two terms +previous to his examination, he was met with a courteous but decided +refusal. It took him altogether by surprise; he had considered the +request as a mere matter of form. He sat half a minute silent, and then +rose to take his departure. The colour came to his cheek; it was a +repulse inflicted only on idle men who could not be trusted beyond the +eye of the Dean of the College. + +The Vice-Principal seemed to expect him to ask the reason of his +proceeding; as Charles, in his confusion, did not seem likely to do so, +he condescended to open the conversation. It was not meant as any +reflection, he said, on Mr. Reding's moral conduct; he had ever been a +well-conducted young man, and had quite carried out the character with +which he had come from school; but there were duties to be observed +towards the community, and its undergraduate portion must be protected +from the contagion of principles which were too rife at the moment. +Charles was, if possible, still more surprised, and suggested that there +must be some misunderstanding if he had been represented to the +Vice-Principal as connected with any so-called party in the place. "You +don't mean to deny that there _is_ a party, Mr. Reding," answered the +College authority, "by that form of expression?" He was a lean, pale +person, with a large hook-nose and spectacles; and seemed, though a +liberal in creed, to be really a nursling of that early age when +Anabaptists fed the fires of Smithfield. From his years, practised +talent, and position, he was well able to browbeat an unhappy juvenile +who incurred his displeasure; and, though he really was a kind-hearted +man at bottom, he not unfrequently misused his power. Charles did not +know how to answer his question; and on his silence it was repeated. At +length he said that really he was not in a condition to speak against +any one; and if he spoke of a so-called party, it was that he might not +seem disrespectful to some who might be better men than himself. Mr. +Vice was silent, but not from being satisfied. + +"What would _you_ call a party, Mr. Reding?" he said at length; "what +would be your definition of it?" + +Charles paused to think; at last he said: "Persons who band together on +their own authority for the maintenance of views of their own." + +"And will you say that these gentlemen have not views of their own?" +asked Mr. Jennings. + +Charles assented. + +"What is your view of the Thirty-nine Articles?" said the Vice-Principal +abruptly. + +"_My_ view!" thought Charles; "what can he mean? my _view_ of the +Articles! like my opinion of things in general. Does he mean my 'view' +whether they are English or Latin, long or short, good or bad, expedient +or not, Catholic or not, Calvinistic or Erastian?" + +Meanwhile Jennings kept steadily regarding him, and Charles got more and +more confused. "I think," he said, making a desperate snatch at +authoritative words, "I think that the Articles 'contain a godly and +wholesome doctrine, and necessary for these times.'" + +"_That_ is the Second Book of Homilies, Mr. Reding, not the Articles. +Besides, I want your own opinion on the subject." He proceeded, after a +pause: "What is justification?" + +"Justification," ... said Charles, repeating the word, and thinking; +then, in the words of the Article, he went on: "We are accounted +righteous before God, but only for the merit of our Lord Jesus Christ, +by faith, and not by our own works and deservings." + +"Right," said Jennings; "but you have not answered my question. What +_is_ justification?" + +This was very hard, for it was one of Charles's puzzles what +justification was in itself, for the Articles do not define it any more +than faith. He answered to this effect, that the Articles did not define +it. The Vice-Principal looked dissatisfied. + +"Can General Councils err?" + +"Yes," answered Charles. This was right. + +"What do Romanists say about them?" + +"They think they err, too." This was all wrong. + +"No," said Jennings, "they think them infallible." + +Charles was silent; Jennings tried to force his decision upon him. + +At length Charles said that "Only some General Councils were admitted as +infallible by the Romanists, and he believed that Bellarmine gave a list +of General Councils which had erred." + +Another pause, and a gathering cloud on Jennings' brow. + +He returned to his former subject. "In what sense do you understand the +Articles, Mr. Reding?" he asked. That was more than Charles could tell; +he wished very much to know the right sense of them; so he beat about +for the _received_ answer. + +"In the sense of Scripture," he said. This was true, but nugatory. + +"Rather," said Jennings, "you understand Scripture in the sense of the +Articles." + +Charles assented for peace-sake. But his concession availed not; the +Vice-Principal pursued his advantage. + +"They must not interpret each other, Mr. Reding, else you revolve in a +circle. Let me repeat my question. In what sense do you interpret the +Articles?" + +"I wish to take them," Reding answered, "in the general and received +sense of our Church, as all our divines and present Bishops take them." + +The Vice-Principal looked pleased. Charles could not help being candid, +and said in a lower tone, as if words of course, "That is, on faith." + +This put all wrong again. Jennings would not allow this; it was a blind, +Popish reliance; it was very well, when he first came to the University, +before he had read the Articles, to take them on trust; but a young man +who had had the advantages of Mr. Reding, who had been three years at +St. Saviour's College, and had attended the Article-lectures, ought to +hold the received view, not only as being received, but as his own, with +a free intellectual assent. He went on to ask him by what texts he +proved the Protestant doctrine of justification. Charles gave two or +three of the usual passages with such success, that the Vice-Principal +was secretly beginning to relent, when, unhappily, on asking a last +question as a matter of course, he received an answer which confirmed +all his former surmises. + +"What is our Church's doctrine concerning the intercession of Saints?" + +Charles said that he did not recollect that it had expressed any opinion +on the subject. Jennings bade him think again; Charles thought in vain. + +"Well, what is your opinion of it, Mr. Reding?" + +Charles, believing it to be an open point, thought he should be safe in +imitating "our Church's" moderation. "There are different opinions on +the subject," he said: "some persons think they intercede for us, +others, that they do not. It is easy to go into extremes; perhaps better +to avoid such questions altogether; better to go by Scripture; the book +of Revelation speaks of the intercession of Saints, but does not +expressly say that they intercede for us," &c., &c. + +Jennings sat upright in his easy-chair, with indignation mounting into +his forehead. At length his face became like night. "_That_ is your +opinion, Mr. Reding." + +Charles began to be frightened. + +"Please to take up that Prayer Book and turn to the 22nd Article. Now +begin reading it." + +"The Romish doctrine," said Charles,--"the Romish doctrine concerning +purgatory, pardon, worshipping and adoration as well of images as of +relics, and also invocation of Saints"---- + +"Stop there," said the Vice-Principal; "read those words again." + +"And also invocation of Saints." + +"Now, Mr. Reding." + +Charles was puzzled, thought he had made some blunder, could not find +it, and was silent. + +"Well, Mr. Reding?" + +Charles at length said that he thought Mr. Jennings had spoken about +_intercession_. + +"So I did," he made answer. + +"And this," said Charles timidly, "speaks of _invocation_." + +Jennings gave a little start in his arm-chair, and slightly coloured. +"Eh?" he said; "give me the book." He slowly read the Article, and then +cast a cautious eye over the page before and after. There was no help +for it. He began again. + +"And so, Mr. Reding, you actually mean to shelter yourself by that +subtle distinction between invocation and intercession; as if Papists +did not invoke in order to gain the Saints' intercession, and as if the +Saints were not supposed by them to intercede in answer to invocation? +The terms are correlative. Intercession of Saints, instead of being an +extreme only, as you consider, is a Romish abomination. I am ashamed of +you, Mr. Reding; I am pained and hurt that a young man of your promise, +of good ability, and excellent morals, should be guilty of so gross an +evasion of the authoritative documents of our Church, such an outrage +upon common sense, so indecent a violation of the terms on which alone +he was allowed to place his name on the books of this society. I could +not have a clearer proof that your mind has been perverted--I fear I +must use a stronger term, debauched--by the sophistries and jesuistries +which unhappily have found entrance among us. Good morning, Mr. Reding." + +So it was a thing settled: Charles was to be sent home,--an endurable +banishment. + +Before he went down he paid a visit of form to the old Principal--a +worthy man in his generation, who before now had been a good parish +priest, had instructed the ignorant and fed the poor; but now in the end +of his days, falling on evil times, was permitted, for inscrutable +purposes, to give evidence of that evil puritanical leaven which was a +secret element of his religion. He had been kind to Charles hitherto, +which made his altered manner more distressing to him. + +"We had hoped," he said, "Mr. Reding, that so good a young man as you +once were would have gained a place on some foundation, and been settled +here, and been a useful man in his generation, sir; and a column, a +buttress of the Church of England, sir. Well, sir, here are my best +wishes for you, sir. When you come up for your Master's degree, sir--no, +I think it is your Bachelor's--which is it, Mr. Reding, are you yet a +Bachelor? oh, I see your gown." + +Charles said he had not yet been into the schools. + +"Well, sir, when you come up to be examined, I should say--to be +examined--we will hope that in the interval, reflection, and study, and +absence perhaps from dangerous companions, will have brought you to a +soberer state of mind, Mr. Reding." + +Charles was shocked at the language used about him. "Really, sir," he +said, "if you knew me better, you would feel that I am likely neither to +receive nor do harm by remaining here between this and Easter." + +"What! remain here, sir, with all the young men about?" asked Dr. +Bluett, with astonishment, "with all the young men about you, sir?" + +Charles really had not a word to say; he did not know himself in so +novel a position. "I cannot conceive, sir," he said, at last, "why I +should be unfit company for the gentlemen of the College." + +Dr. Bluett's jaw dropped, and his eyes assumed a hollow aspect. "You +will corrupt their minds, sir," he said,--"you will corrupt their +minds." Then he added, in a sepulchral tone, which came from the very +depths of his inside: "You will introduce them, sir, to some subtle +Jesuit--to some subtle Jesuit, Mr. Reding." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Mrs. Reding was by this time settled in the neighbourhood of old friends +in Devonshire; and there Charles spent the winter and early spring with +her and his three sisters, the eldest of whom was two years older than +himself. + +"Come, shut your dull books, Charles," said Caroline, the youngest, a +girl of fourteen; "make way for the tea; I am sure you have read enough. +You sometimes don't speak a word for an hour together; at least, you +might tell us what you are reading about." + +"My dear Carry, you would not be much the wiser if I did," answered +Charles; "it is Greek history." + +"Oh," said Caroline, "I know more than you think; I have read Goldsmith, +and good part of Rollin, besides Pope's Homer." + +"Capital!" said Charles; "well, I am reading about Pelopidas--who was +he?" + +"Pelopidas!" answered Caroline, "I ought to know. Oh, I recollect, he +had an ivory shoulder." + +"Well said, Carry; but I have not yet a distinct idea of him either. Was +he a statue, or flesh and blood, with this shoulder of his?" + +"Oh, he was alive; somebody ate him, I think." + +"Well, was he a god or a man?" said Charles. + +"Oh, it's a mistake of mine," said Caroline; "he was a goddess, the +ivory-footed--no, that was Thetis." + +"My dear Caroline," said her mother, "do not talk so at random; think +before you speak; you know better than this." + +"She has, ma'am," said Charles, "what Mr. Jennings would call 'a very +inaccurate mind.'" + +"I recollect perfectly now," said Caroline, "he was a friend of +Epaminondas." + +"When did he live?" asked Charles. Caroline was silent. + +"Oh, Carry," said Eliza, "don't you recollect the _memoria technica_?" + +"I never could learn it," said Caroline; "I hate it." + +"Nor can I," said Mary; "give me good native numbers; they are sweet and +kindly, like flowers in a bed; but I don't like your artificial +flower-pots." + +"But surely," said Charles, "a _memoria technica_ makes you recollect a +great many dates which you otherwise could not?" + +"The crabbed names are more difficult even to pronounce than the numbers +to learn," said Caroline. + +"That's because you have very few dates to get up," said Charles; "but +common writing is a _memoria technica_." + +"That's beyond Caroline," said Mary. + +"What are words but artificial signs for ideas?" said Charles; "they are +more musical, but as arbitrary. There is no more reason why the sound +'hat' should mean the particular thing so called, which we put on our +heads, than why 'abul-distof' should stand for 1520." + +"Oh, my dear child," said Mrs. Reding, "how you run on! Don't be +paradoxical." + +"My dear mother," said Charles, coming round to the fire, "I don't want +to be paradoxical; it's only a generalization." + +"Keep it, then, for the schools, my dear; I dare say it will do you good +there," continued Mrs. Reding, while she continued her hemming; "poor +Caroline will be as much put to it in logic as in history." + +"I am in a dilemma," said Charles, as he seated himself on a little +stool at his mother's feet; "for Carry calls me stupid if I am silent, +and you call me paradoxical if I speak." + +"Good sense," said his mother, "is the golden mean." + +"And what is common sense?" said Charles. + +"The silver mean," said Eliza. + +"Well done," said Charles; "it is small change for every hour." + +"Rather," said Caroline, "it is the copper mean, for we want it, like +alms for the poor, to give away. People are always asking _me_ for it. +If I can't tell who Isaac's father was, Mary says, 'O Carry, where's +your common sense?' If I am going out of doors, Eliza runs up, 'Carry,' +she cries, 'you haven't common sense; your shawl's all pinned awry.' And +when I ask mamma the shortest way across the fields to Dalton, she says, +'Use your common sense, my dear.'" + +"No wonder you have so little of it, poor dear child," said Charles; "no +bank could stand such a run." + +"No such thing," said Mary; "it flows into her bank ten times as fast as +it comes out. She has plenty of it from us; and what she does with it no +one can make out; she either hoards or she speculates." + +"'Like the great ocean,'" said Charles, "'which receives the rivers, yet +is not full.'" + +"That's somewhere in Scripture," said Eliza. + +"In the 'Preacher,'" said Charles, and he continued the quotation; "'All +things are full of labour, man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied +with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.'" + +His mother sighed; "Take my cup, my love," she said; "no more." + +"I know why Charles is so fond of the 'Preacher,'" said Mary; "it's +because he's tired of reading; 'much study is a weariness to the flesh.' +I wish we could help you, dear Charles." + +"My dear boy, I really think you read too much," said his mother; "only +think how many hours you have been at it to-day. You are always up one +or two hours before the sun; and I don't think you have had your walk +to-day." + +"It's so dismal walking alone, my dear mother; and as to walking with +you and my sisters, it's pleasant enough, but no exercise." + +"But, Charlie," said Mary, "that's absurd of you; these nice sunny days, +which you could not expect at this season, are just the time for long +walks. Why don't you resolve to make straight for the plantations, or +to mount Hart Hill, or go right through Dun Wood and back?" + +"Because all woods are dun and dingy just now, Mary, and not green. It's +quite melancholy to see them." + +"Just the finest time of the year," said his mother; "it's universally +allowed; all painters say that the autumn is the season to see a +landscape in." + +"All gold and russet," said Mary. + +"It makes me melancholy," said Charles. + +"What! the beautiful autumn make you melancholy?" asked his mother. + +"Oh, my dear mother, you mean to say that I am paradoxical again; I +cannot help it. I like spring; but autumn saddens me." + +"Charles always says so," said Mary; "he thinks nothing of the rich hues +into which the sober green changes; he likes the dull uniform of +summer." + +"No, it is not that," said Charles; "I never saw anything so gorgeous as +Magdalen Water-walk, for instance, in October; it is quite wonderful, +the variety of colours. I admire, and am astonished; but I cannot love +or like it. It is because I can't separate the look of things from what +it portends; that rich variety is but the token of disease and death." + +"Surely," said Mary, "colours have their own intrinsic beauty; we may +like them for their own sake." + +"No, no," said Charles, "we always go by association; else why not +admire raw beef, or a toad, or some other reptiles, which are as +beautiful and bright as tulips or cherries, yet revolting, because we +consider what they are, not how they look?" + +"What next?" said his mother, looking up from her work; "my dear +Charles, you are not serious in comparing cherries to raw beef or to +toads?" + +"No, my dear mother," answered Charles, laughing, "no, I only say that +they look like them, not are like them." + +"A toad look like a cherry, Charles!" persisted Mrs. Reding. + +"Oh, my dear mother," he answered, "I can't explain; I really have said +nothing out of the way. Mary does not think I have." + +"But," said Mary, "why not associate pleasant thoughts with autumn?" + +"It is impossible," said Charles; "it is the sick season and the +deathbed of Nature. I cannot look with pleasure on the decay of the +mother of all living. The many hues upon the landscape are but the spots +of dissolution." + +"This is a strained, unnatural view, Charles," said Mary; "shake +yourself, and you will come to a better mind. Don't you like to see a +rich sunset? yet the sun is leaving you." + +Charles was for a moment posed; then he said, "Yes, but there was no +autumn in Eden; suns rose and set in Paradise, but the leaves were +always green, and did not wither. There was a river to feed them. Autumn +is the 'fall.'" + +"So, my dearest Charles," said Mrs. Reding, "you don't go out walking +these fine days because there was no autumn in the garden of Eden?" + +"Oh," said Charles, laughing, "it is cruel to bring me so to book. What +I meant was, that my reading was a direct obstacle to walking, and that +the fine weather did not tempt me to remove it." + +"I am glad we have you here, my dear," said his mother, "for we can +force you out now and then; at College I suspect you never walk at all." + +"It's only for a time, ma'am," said Charles; "when my examination is +over, I will take as long walks as I did with Edward Gandy that winter +after I left school." + +"Ah, how merry you were then, Charles!" said Mary; "so happy with the +thoughts of Oxford before you!" + +"Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Reding, "you'll then walk too much, as you now +walk too little. My good boy, you are so earnest about everything." + +"It's a shame to find fault with him for being diligent," said Mary: +"you like him to read for honours, I know, mamma; but if he is to get +them he must read a great deal." + +"True, my love," answered Mrs. Reding; "Charles is a dear good fellow, I +know. How glad we all shall be to have him ordained, and settled in a +curacy!" + +Charles sighed. "Come, Mary," he said, "give us some music, now the urn +has gone away. Play me that beautiful air of Beethoven, the one I call +'The Voice of the Dead.'" + +"Oh, Charles, you do give such melancholy names to things!" cried Mary. + +"The other day," said Eliza, "we had a most beautiful scent wafted +across the road as we were walking, and he called it 'the Ghost of the +Past;' and he says that the sound of the Eolian harp is 'remorseful.'" + +"Now, you'd think all that very pretty," said Charles, "if you saw it in +a book of poems; but you call it melancholy when I say it." + +"Oh, yes," said Caroline, "because poets never mean what they say, and +would not be poetical unless they were melancholy." + +"Well," said Mary, "I play to you, Charles, on this one condition, that +you let me give you some morning a serious lecture on that melancholy of +yours, which, I assure you is growing on you." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Charles's perplexities rapidly took a definite form on his coming into +Devonshire. The very fact of his being at home, and not at Oxford where +he ought to have been, brought them before his mind; and the near +prospect of his examination and degree justified the consideration of +them. No addition indeed was made to their substance, as already +described; but they were no longer vague and indistinct, but thoroughly +apprehended by him; nor did he make up his mind that they were +insurmountable, but he saw clearly what it was that had to be +surmounted. The particular form of argument into which they happened to +fall was determined by the circumstances in which he found himself at +the time, and was this, viz. how he could subscribe the Articles _ex +animo_, without faith, more or less, in his Church as the imponent; and +next, how he could have faith in her, her history and present condition +being what they were. The fact of these difficulties was a great source +of distress to him. It was aggravated by the circumstance that he had no +one to talk to, or to sympathize with him under them. And it was +completed by the necessity of carrying about with him a secret which he +dared not tell to others, yet which he foreboded must be told one day. +All this was the secret of that depression of spirits which his sisters +had observed in him. + +He was one day sitting thoughtfully over the fire with a book in his +hand, when Mary entered. "I wish you would teach _me_ the art of reading +Greek in live coals," she said. + +"Sermons in stones, and good in everything," answered Charles. + +"You do well to liken yourself to the melancholy Jaques," she replied. + +"Not so," said he, "but to the good Duke Charles, who was banished to +the green forest." + +"A great grievance," answered Mary, "we being the wild things with whom +you are forced to live. My dear Charles," she continued, "I hope the +tittle-tattle that drove you here does not still dwell on your mind." + +"Why, it is not very pleasant, Mary, after having been on the best terms +with the whole College, and in particular with the Principal and +Jennings, at last to be sent down, as a rowing-man might be rusticated +for tandem-driving. You have no notion how strong the old Principal was, +and Jennings too." + +"Well, my dearest Charles, you must not brood over it," said Mary, "as I +fear you are doing." + +"I don't see where it is to end," said Charles; "the Principal expressly +said that my prospects at the University were knocked up. I suppose they +would not give me a testimonial, if I wished to stand for a fellowship +anywhere." + +"Oh, it is a temporary mistake," said Mary; "I dare say by this time +they know better. And it's one great gain to have you with us; we, at +least, ought to be obliged to them." + +"I have been so very careful, Mary," said Charles; "I have never been to +the evening-parties, or to the sermons which are talked about in the +University. It's quite amazing to me what can have put it into their +heads. At the Article-lecture I now and then asked a question, but it +was really because I wished to understand and get up the different +subjects. Jennings fell on me the moment I entered his room. I can call +it nothing else; very civil at first in his manner, but there was +something in his eye before he spoke which told me at once what was +coming. It's odd a man of such self-command as he should not better hide +his feelings; but I have always been able to see what Jennings was +thinking about." + +"Depend on it," said his sister, "you will think nothing of it whatever +this time next year. It will be like a summer-cloud, come and gone." + +"And then it damps me, and interrupts me in my reading. I fall back +thinking of it, and cannot give my mind to my books, or exert myself. It +is very hard." + +Mary sighed; "I wish I could help you," she said; "but women can do so +little. Come, let me take the fretting, and you the reading; that'll be +a fair division." + +"And then my dear mother too," he continued; "what will she think of it +when it comes to her ears? and come it must." + +"Nonsense," said Mary, "don't make a mountain of a mole-hill. You will +go back, take your degree, and nobody will be the wiser." + +"No, it can't be so," said Charles seriously. + +"What do you mean?" asked Mary. + +"These things don't clear off in that way," said he; "it is no +summer-cloud; it may turn to rain, for what they know." + +Mary looked at him with some surprise. + +"I mean," he said, "that I have no confidence that they will let me take +my degree, any more than let me reside there." + +"That is very absurd," said she; "it's what I meant by brooding over +things, and making mountains of mole-hills." + +"My sweet Mary," he said, affectionately taking her hand, "my only real +confidant and comfort, I would tell you something more, if you could +bear it." + +Mary was frightened, and her heart beat. "Charles," she said, +withdrawing her hand, "any pain is less than to see you thus. I see too +clearly that something is on your mind." + +Charles put his feet on the fender, and looked down. + +"I _can't_ tell you," he said, at length, with vehemence; then, seeing +by her face how much he was distressing her, he said, half-laughing, as +if to turn the edge of his words, "My dear Mary, when people bear +witness against one, one can't help fearing that there is, perhaps, +something to bear witness against." + +"Impossible, Charles! _you_ corrupt other people! _you_ falsify the +Prayer Book and Articles! impossible!" + +"Mary, which do you think would be the best judge whether my face was +dirty and my coat shabby, you or I? Well, then, perhaps Jennings, or at +least common report, knows more about me than I do myself." + +"You must not speak in this way," said Mary, much hurt; "you really do +pain me now. What can you mean?" + +Charles covered his face with his hands, and at length said: "It's no +good; you can't assist me here; I only pain you. I ought not to have +begun the subject." + +There was a silence. + +"My dearest Charles," said Mary tenderly, "come, I will bear anything, +and not be annoyed. Anything better than to see you go on in this way. +But really you frighten me." + +"Why," he answered, "when a number of people tell me that Oxford is not +my place, not my position, perhaps they are right; perhaps it isn't." + +"But is that really all?" she said; "who wants you to lead an Oxford +life? not we." + +"No, but Oxford implies taking a degree--taking orders." + +"Now, my dear Charles, speak out; don't drop hints; let me know;" and +she sat down with a look of great anxiety. + +"Well," he said, making an effort; "yet I don't know where to begin; but +many things have happened to me, in various ways, to show me that I have +not a place, a position, a home, that I am not made for, that I am a +stranger in, the Church of England." + +There was a dreadful pause; Mary turned very pale; then, darting at a +conclusion with precipitancy, she said quickly, "You mean to say, you +are going to join the Church of Rome, Charles." + +"No," he said, "it is not so. I mean no such thing; I mean just what I +say; I have told you the whole; I have kept nothing back. It is this, +and no more--that I feel out of place." + +"Well, then," she said, "you must tell me more; for, to my apprehension, +you mean just what I have said, nothing short of it." + +"I can't go through things in order," he said; "but wherever I go, +whomever I talk with, I feel him to be another sort of person from what +I am. I can't convey it to you; you won't understand me; but the words +of the Psalm, 'I am a stranger upon earth,' describe what I always feel. +No one thinks or feels like me. I hear sermons, I talk on religious +subjects with friends, and every one seems to bear witness against me. +And now the College bears its witness, and sends me down." + +"Oh, Charles," said Mary, "how changed you are!" and tears came into her +eyes; "you used to be so cheerful, so happy. You took such pleasure in +every one, in everything. We used to laugh and say, 'All Charlie's geese +are swans.' What has come over you?" She paused, and then continued: +"Don't you recollect those lines in the 'Christian Year'? I can't repeat +them; we used to apply them to you; something about hope or love 'making +all things bright with her own magic smile.'" + +Charles was touched when he was reminded of what he had been three years +before; he said: "I suppose it is coming out of shadows into +realities." + +"There has been much to sadden you," she added, sighing; "and now these +nasty books are too much for you. Why should you go up for honours? +what's the good of it?" + +There was a pause again. + +"I wish I could bring home to you," said Charles, "the number of +intimations, as it were, which have been given me of my uncongeniality, +as it may be called, with things as they are. What perhaps most affected +me, was a talk I had with Carlton, whom I have lately been reading with; +for, if I could not agree with _him_, or rather, if _he_ bore witness +against me, who could be expected to say a word for me? I cannot bear +the pomp and pretence which I see everywhere. I am not speaking against +individuals; they are very good persons, I know; but, really, if you saw +Oxford as it is! The Heads with such large incomes; they are indeed very +liberal of their money, and their wives are often simple, self-denying +persons, as every one says, and do a great deal of good in the place; +but I speak of the system. Here are ministers of Christ with large +incomes, living in finely furnished houses, with wives and families, and +stately butlers and servants in livery, giving dinners all in the best +style, condescending and gracious, waving their hands and mincing their +words, as if they were the cream of the earth, but without anything to +make them clergymen but a black coat and a white tie. And then Bishops +or Deans come, with women tucked under their arm; and they can't enter +church but a fine powdered man runs first with a cushion for them to sit +on, and a warm sheepskin to keep their feet from the stones." + +Mary laughed: "Well, my dear Charles," she said, "I did not think you +had seen so much of Bishops, Deans, Professors, and Heads of houses at +St. Saviour's; you have kept good company." + +"I have my eyes about me," said Charles, "and have had quite +opportunities enough; I can't go into particulars." + +"Well, you have been hard on them, I think," said Mary; "when a poor old +man has the rheumatism," and she sighed a little, "it is hard he mayn't +have his feet kept from the cold." + +"Ah, Mary, I can't bring it home to you! but you must, please, throw +yourself into what I say, and not criticize my instances or my terms. +What I mean is, that there is a worldly air about everything, as unlike +as possible the spirit of the Gospel. I don't impute to the dons +ambition or avarice; but still, what Heads of houses, Fellows, and all +of them evidently put before them as an end is, to enjoy the world in +the first place, and to serve God in the second. Not that they don't +make it their final object to get to heaven; but their immediate object +is to be comfortable, to marry, to have a fair income, station, and +respectability, a convenient house, a pleasant country, a sociable +neighbourhood. There is nothing high about them. I declare I think the +Puseyites are the only persons who have high views in the whole place; I +should say, the only persons who profess them, for I don't know them to +speak about them." He thought of White. + +"Well, you are talking of things I don't know about," said Mary; "but I +can't think all the young clever men of the place are looking out for +ease and comfort; nor can I believe that in the Church of Rome money has +always been put to the best of purposes." + +"I said nothing about the Church of Rome," said Charles; "why do you +bring in the Church of Rome? that's another thing altogether. What I +mean is, that there is a worldly smell about Oxford which I can't abide. +I am not using 'worldly' in its worse sense. People are religious and +charitable; but--I don't like to mention names--but I know various dons, +and the notion of evangelical poverty, the danger of riches, the giving +up all for Christ, all those ideas which are first principles in +Scripture, as I read it, don't seem to enter into their idea of +religion. I declare, I think that is the reason why the Puseyites are so +unpopular." + +"Well, I can't see," said Mary, "why you must be disgusted with the +world, and with your place and duties in it, because there are worldly +people in it." + +"But I was speaking of Carlton," said Charles; "do you know, good fellow +as he is--and I love, admire, and respect him exceedingly--he actually +laid it down almost as an axiom, that a clergyman of the English Church +ought to marry? He said that celibacy might be very well in other +communions, but that a man made himself a fool, and was out of joint +with the age, who remained single in the Church of England." + +Poor Charles was so serious, and the proposition which he related was so +monstrous, that Mary, in spite of her real distress, could not help +laughing out. "I really cannot help it," she said; "well, it really was +a most extraordinary statement, I confess. But, my dear Charlie, you +are not afraid that he will carry you off against your will, and marry +you to some fair lady before you know where you are?" + +"Don't talk in that way, Mary," said Charles; "I can't bear a joke just +now. I mean, Carlton is so sensible a man, and takes so just a view of +things, that the conviction flashed on my mind, that the Church of +England really was what he implied it to be--a form of religion very +unlike that of the Apostles." + +This sobered Mary indeed. "Alas," she said, "we have got upon very +different ground now; not what our Church thinks of you, but what you +think of our Church." There was a pause. "I thought this was at the +bottom," she said; "I never could believe that a parcel of people, some +of whom you cared nothing for, telling you that you were not in your +place, would make you think so, unless you first felt it yourself. +That's the real truth; and then you interpret what others say in your +own way." Another uncomfortable pause. Then she continued: "I see how it +will be. When you take up a thing, Charles, I know well you don't lay it +down. No, you have made up your mind already. We shall see you a Roman +Catholic." + +"Do _you_ then bear witness against me, Mary, as well as the rest?" said +he sorrowfully. + +She saw her mistake. "No," she answered; "all I say is, that it rests +with yourself, not with others. _If_ you have made up your mind, there's +no help for it. It is not others who drive you, who bear witness against +you. Dear Charles, don't mistake me, and don't deceive yourself. You +have a strong _will_." + +At this moment Caroline entered the room. "I could not think where you +were, Mary," she said; "here Perkins has been crying after you ever so +long. It's something about dinner; I don't know what. We have hunted +high and low, and never guessed you were helping Charles at his books." +Mary gave a deep sigh, and left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Neither to brother nor to sister had the conversation been a +satisfaction or relief. "I can go nowhere for sympathy," thought +Charles; "dear Mary does not understand me more than others. I can't +bring out what I mean and feel; and when I attempt to do so, my +statements and arguments seem absurd to myself. It has been a great +effort to tell her; and in one sense it is a gain, for it is a trial +over. Else I have taken nothing by my move, and might as well have held +my tongue. I have simply pained her without relieving myself. +By-the-bye, she has gone off believing about twice as much as the fact. +I was going to set her right when Carry came in. My only difficulty is +about taking orders; and she thinks I am going to be a Roman Catholic. +How absurd! but women will run on so; give an inch, and they take an +ell. I know nothing of the Roman Catholics. The simple question is, +whether I should go to the Bar or the Church. I declare, I think I have +made vastly too much of it myself. I ought to have begun this way with +her,--I ought to have said, 'D'you know, I have serious thoughts of +reading law?' I've made a hash of it." + +Poor Mary, on the other hand, was in a confusion of thought and feeling +as painful as it was new to her; though for a time household matters and +necessary duties towards her younger sisters occupied her mind in a +different direction. She had been indeed taken at her word; little had +she expected what would come on her when she engaged to "take the +fretting, while he took the reading." She had known what grief was, not +so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of +mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite +frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, +and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. +She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford +party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on +visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and +clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she +had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that +there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she +hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her +brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all +their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so +cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of +the new opinions,--it bewildered her. + +And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them +notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, +so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of +himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old +Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could +be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had +enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: +going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and +the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The +historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just +before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons +from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the +ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual +solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the +Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, +which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the +beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? +Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that +_she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had +acted on the powerful mind of her brother. + +Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a +clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom +she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she +wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he +had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was +gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only +stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of +them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! + +And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner +or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well +enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he +would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons +there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could +be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all +calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it +better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait +till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, +and she must leave it. + +This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually +subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual +element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then +betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither +brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite +the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; +self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than +before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more +attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the +drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he +had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid +examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural +liveliness. + +As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very +hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so +fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; +not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the +country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, +she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any +way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the +winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much +less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own +religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in +no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his +former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings +which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and +professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion +was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, +but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that +occasion she had expressed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been +shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure +of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a +neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and +shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white +neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have +expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the +accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be +that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated +into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the +trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he +must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the +sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and +Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest +pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after +Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the +young ladies. + +"A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are +once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." + +"No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the +hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the +prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." + +"What is that high hill?" said Bateman. + +"It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." + +"We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring +the bell for luncheon, my dear." + +"Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of +building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, +for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our +ecclesiastical structures." + +"Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many +churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. +Martin's was one of them." + +"Fifty," said Eliza. + +"Fifty were intended," said Charles. + +"Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy +Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the +Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance +at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by +English Churchmen before it." + +"Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in +building churches; it has saved us much trouble." + +"Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said +Bateman, taken rather aback. + +"My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, +there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. + +"Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. + +"Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are +destroying the pews." + +"They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." + +"Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of +incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" + +A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking +if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. + +Bateman looked modest. + +"Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but +he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that +sort of thing." + +It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on +clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an +account of his own reforms. + +"Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or +you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens +and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of +the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to +introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, +intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. +However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be +two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my +parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" + +"It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or +bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." + +"Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." + +"Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss +Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, +and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat +being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan +with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." + +Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. +"Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed +French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" + +"Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and +appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think +this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, +'That's the parson.'" + +"I'll be bound they do," said Charles. + +"Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever +hear the like!" + +Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. + +"You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said +Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. + +"Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding +me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have +liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, +however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now +by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of +condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this +is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one +in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those +who are below." + +"It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. + +"But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one +can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." + +"One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking +amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, +you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own +alterations." + +Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach +sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than +to stand." + +"With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have +ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your +parishioners contented?" + +"Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. +The alteration is so simple." + +"Nothing besides?" asked Charles. + +"Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in +the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of +Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a +chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church +is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." + +"Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the +young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you +must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. +There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." + +Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of +the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid +terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. + +"Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report +concerning you, which is everywhere about?" + +"I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. + +"Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as +great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell +me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They +say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of +Rome." + +"Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. + +"Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from +Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a +visitation dinner in Wales." + +"So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as +well as the rest." + +"Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it +true--is it true?" + +"What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you +understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said +Charles. + +"Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. +Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a +certain point, or in any respect?" + +"Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict +it entirely." + +"May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat +denial?" asked Bateman. + +"Of course, of course." + +Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing +him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk +in silence. + +Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful +blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, +who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an +unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across +so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, +her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches +decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, +lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, +had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate +nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, +"what is it you want--what is it? name it." + +"That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he +spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated +nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of +leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. +"Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the +circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the +subject." + +"What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. + +"Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening +to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. +He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was +deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and +that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist +even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day +a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with +Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the +report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that +he always prophesied it." + +"I am much obliged to him," said Charles. + +"However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I +understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. +It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." + +"I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you +must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't +feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, +don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a +night, if you wish it." + +Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when +they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I +should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you +Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and +Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself +with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help +being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters +he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with +pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at +Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could +effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated +about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, +was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he +thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could +turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been +asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of +the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a +little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. + +They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner +turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave +unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, +almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had +not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, +there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and +no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave +scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of +worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the +mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and +places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion +in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it +was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry +in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the +Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the +Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, +Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of +immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as +their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then +you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." + +"But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say +that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward +expression, so that one form is no better than another?" + +"Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music +to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the +representative of a particular place or time." + +"That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," +said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and +modern." + +"Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat +Protestant." + +"The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican +habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." + +"Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; +"and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." + +"Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both +eminently Catholic." + +"You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet +there's no Gothic there." + +"Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if +we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, +can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" + +"Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they +are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider +the first specimen of Antichrist." + +"It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. + +"Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think +that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You +said so yourself just now." + +"It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The +Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ +corruptions among her people." + +"It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our +ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the +Church of Rome." + +"Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British +Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with +us, but she will." + +"Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the +Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is +Antichrist was the life of the movement." + +"With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. + +"Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; +"but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as +that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have +and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the +Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, +energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good +Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." + +"Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been +that Rome and we are sister Churches." + +"I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not +withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of +Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She +opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of +gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? +Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did +that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her +corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." + +"This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, +my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." + +"Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only +way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to +Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our +divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome +is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is +necessary for our position." + +"I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used +in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that +disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." + +"You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean +is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is +antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to +_say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if +it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So +great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your +view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you +don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our +divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not +joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ +think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." + +"Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy +into a nutshell." + +Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the +day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." + +"Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," +answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their +protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes +to see." + +"All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't +wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome +anathematizes _us_." + +"It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our +Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon +their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for +their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn +Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get +over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help +speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be +consistent." + +"Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he +chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's +a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no +reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the +Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the +discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but +not very intellectually. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and +Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" +asked Charles. + +"Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should +like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." + +"Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; +every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of +arguing about it? you won't agree with me." + +"I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they +differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." + +"A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so +much sense, should have so little common sense!" + +"Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, +when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have +figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." + +"My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian +chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, +Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." + +"Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great +in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet +invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." + +"A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. + +"Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the +rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison. Both existed +before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards +consecrated to the service of the Church." + +"Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." + +"Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they +were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old +architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting +their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't +have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." + +"Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to +complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." + +"I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce +them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the +melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as +either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the +natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on +another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or +twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of +proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the +primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to +their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you +attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." + +"You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, +and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." + +"Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," +said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." + +"Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. +You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' +but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a +disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat +and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was +never made for." + +"This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; +"instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any +other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more +about the subject than I do." + +"I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music +did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became +known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly +ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given +birth to Beethoven." + +"Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern +instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture +could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great +mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in +music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has +gained by it." + +"It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed +to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not +musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I +have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral +expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its +parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." + +"Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must +in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you +must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." + +"And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman +with Gregorians?" + +"For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer +Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and +development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the +Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the +exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a +host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be +respectful towards classical." + +The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said +Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead +me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not +religious." + +"I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said +Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven +inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate +Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for +cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. +"Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must +consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our +people." + +"Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is +Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and +just a little modern richness." + +"And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a +mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. +It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the +architecture of the façade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." + +"It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. + +"Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be +absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract +principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture +myself, though I can't defend it." + +Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was +the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he +said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield +to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you +laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." + +"It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. + +"A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." + +"What are you passing to?" asked Charles. + +"Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your +man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in +my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." + +"Have you seen him?" said Charles. + +"No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to +mass, I find." + +"Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. + +"At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. + +"Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." + +"That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. + +"A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to +church up to the week he joined the Romanists." + +"Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a +melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of +delusions should be at length recovered." + +"Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a +number more." + +"Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church +has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I +cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there +is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." + +"Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the +case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, +because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought +round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the +fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to +drive them back." + +"Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is +deplorable, unpardonable." + +"They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. + +"Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said +Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" + +"Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. + +"Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the +enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." + +"_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his +great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was +announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if +you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the +offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. +It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the +lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once +buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came +in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a +religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary +between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred +symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still +venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. +Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little +mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders +were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated +what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to +interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the +sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was +overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy +times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you +are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin +where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about +everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, +took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that +whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the +loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. +He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm +and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned +that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to +aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It +is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed +away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. + +The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to +his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his +table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He +broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- + + "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ + + 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" + +"This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" +and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some +well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up +his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in +this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a +Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had +seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began +reading _in extenso:_-- + + "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ + + 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? + + 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? + + 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? + + 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? + + 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? + + 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the + Church a kingdom? + + 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? + + 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary + directions? + + 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to + make two nations one kingdom? + + 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, + sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? + + 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a + visible unity require a visible union? + + 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct + worships and ideas of worship? + + 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act + of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous + deceit' in the other? + + 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? + + 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? + + 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? + + 17. And in different centuries? + + 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? + + 19. And in its divines and members one with another? + + 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? + + 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? + + 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and + Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? + + 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a + professed messenger from God? + + 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from + God? + + 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? + + 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church + seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? + + 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems + to have hope and charity?" + +Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It +won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but +they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and +was soon fast asleep. + +Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, +and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do +wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere +else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains +to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But +it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to +giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten +it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede +its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went +to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could +not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a +conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least +so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall +be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall +go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can +but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry +me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear +father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't +put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless +my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul +sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I +have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. +"My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my +examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and +signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well +written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's +something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his +mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was +not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English +Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to +dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had +accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the +rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy +as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear +head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted +Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be +a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother +under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; +and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to +save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk +to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly +it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that +he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing +occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so +let them pass. + +One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was +surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with +a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing +him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the +stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not +control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of +reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for +it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of +Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. + +Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his +eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had +before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. +He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was +changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was +natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was +in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; +his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but +there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his +cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. +When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self +returned. + +"I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, +as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." + +"It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they +have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, +and very common." + +"Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I +fancied oil was the substitute." + +"Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the +summer." + +"Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the +multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and +butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it +as milk." + +"The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. + +"Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All +such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at +first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much +for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are +in a measure artificial." + +"It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I +could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some +others." + +"Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only +naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the +stream," replied Campbell. + +"Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. + +"The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more +palatable," said Willis. + +"Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. + +"No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a +something _recherché_. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' +What nature yields _sponte suâ_ around you, however delicious, is no +luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your +Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." + +"Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," +said Bateman; "for it comes from China." + +Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were +quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it +might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened +before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were +making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price +would soon be the only measure of luxury. + +"This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," +said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in +Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." + +"This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," +observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." + +"Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound +by their lax ways in Italy?" + +"I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable +to this age, in England as well as in Rome." + +"Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you +won't secure your prisoner." + +"What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most +rigidly at Oxford." + +"It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." + +"But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. + +"They are not binding," answered Campbell. + +"They _are_, binding," said Bateman. + +A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: +"Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I +suppose?" + +"A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, +Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad +you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." + +"An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; +"they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put +in force?" + +"But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." + +"Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted +Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." + +"Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a +difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." + +"My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. + +"Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor +Bateman. + +"Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude +of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I +appeal to Mr. Willis." + +Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he +had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that +when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, +if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he +was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. + +"What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" + +"No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of +which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the +exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at +length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we +should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give +expression to this common-sense view." + +"Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. +Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the +Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; +the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." + +"But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you +have heard." + +Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to +Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one +Church?" + +"Most certainly," answered Bateman. + +"Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" + +"In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." + +"That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have +no intercourse with each other." + +Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social +dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual +support; in short, no visible union." + +Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I +can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are +not visibly united; unity implies _union_." + +"I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, +Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of +our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English +and Romish Churches are both parts of it." + +Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came +to the rescue in his own way. + +"We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A +kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, +yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the +Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." + +"I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a +rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a +rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to +divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of +one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part +of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part +of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and +England." + +"Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; +"consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union +between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha +may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." + +"The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to +dissolution?" + +"Certainly it is," answered Campbell. + +"And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. + +"Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's +saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' +just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah +when the Shiloh came." + +"Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, +"according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be +more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and +England?" + +"They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. + +"Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something +definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." + +"Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit +yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did +occur, it would be difficult to see our way." + +"No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you +would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some +other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, +speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" + +The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the +conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, +had been an impatient listener. + +"That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go +along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, +it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the +Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other +sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." + +"My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to +maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we +must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, +while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." + +"I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. +There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, +and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, +manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much +as ever it was." + +"That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in +a state of discomfort. "Nature never intended you for a +controversialist, my good Bateman," he added to himself. + +"It is as I thought," said Willis; "Bateman, you are describing an +invisible Church. You hold the indefectibility of the invisible Church, +not of the visible." + +"They are in a fix," thought Charles, "but I will do my best to tow old +Bateman out;" so he began: "No," he said, "Bateman only means that one +Church presents, in some particular point, a different appearance from +another; but it does not follow that, in fact, they have not a visible +agreement too. All difference implies agreement; the English and Roman +Churches agree visibly and differ visibly. Think of the different styles +of architecture, and you will see, Willis, what he means. A church is a +church all the world over, it is visibly one and the same, and yet how +different is church from church! Our churches are Gothic, the southern +churches are Palladian. How different is a basilica from York Cathedral! +yet they visibly agree together. No one would mistake either for a +mosque or a Jewish temple. We may quarrel which is the better style; +one likes the basilica, another calls it pagan." + +"That _I_ do," said Bateman. + +"A little extreme," said Campbell, "a little extreme, as usual. The +basilica is beautiful in its place. There are two things which Gothic +cannot show--the line or forest of round polished columns, and the +graceful dome, circling above one's head like the blue heaven itself." + +All parties were glad of this diversion from the religious dispute; so +they continued the lighter conversation which had succeeded it with +considerable earnestness. + +"I fear I must confess," said Willis, "that the churches at Rome do not +affect me like the Gothic; I reverence them, I feel awe in them, but I +love, I feel a sensible pleasure at the sight of the Gothic arch." + +"There are other reasons for that in Rome," said Campbell; "the churches +are so unfinished, so untidy. Rome is a city of ruins! the Christian +temples are built on ruins, and they themselves are generally +dilapidated or decayed; thus they are ruins of ruins." Campbell was on +an easier subject than that of Anglo-Catholicism, and, no one +interrupting him, he proceeded flowingly: "In Rome you have huge high +buttresses in the place of columns, and these not cased with marble, but +of cold white plaster or paint. They impart an indescribable forlorn +look to the churches." + +Willis said he often wondered what took so many foreigners, that is, +Protestants, to Rome; it was so dreary, so melancholy a place; a number +of old, crumbling, shapeless brick masses, the ground unlevelled, the +straight causeways fenced by high monotonous walls, the points of +attraction straggling over broad solitudes, faded palaces, trees +universally pollarded, streets ankle deep in filth or eyes-and-mouth +deep in a cloud of whirling dust and straws, the climate most +capricious, the evening air most perilous. Naples was an earthly +paradise; but Rome was a city of faith. To seek the shrines that it +contained was a veritable penance, as was fitting. He understood +Catholics going there; he was perplexed at Protestants. + +"There is a spell about the _limina Apostolorum_," said Charles; "St. +Peter and St. Paul are not there for nothing." + +"There is a more tangible reason," said Campbell; "it is a place where +persons of all nations are to be found; no society is so varied as the +Roman. You go to a ballroom; your host, whom you bow to in the first +apartment, is a Frenchman; as you advance your eye catches Massena's +granddaughter in conversation with Mustapha Pasha; you soon find +yourself seated between a Yankee _chargé d'affaires_ and a Russian +colonel; and an Englishman is playing the fool in front of you." + +Here Campbell looked at his watch, and then at Willis, whom he had +driven over to Melford to return Bateman's call. It was time for them to +be going, or they would be overtaken by the evening. Bateman, who had +remained in a state of great dissatisfaction since he last spoke, which +had not been for a quarter of an hour past, did not find himself in +spirits to try much to detain either them or Reding; so he was speedily +left to himself. He drew his chair to the fire, and for a while felt +nothing more than a heavy load of disgust. After a time, however, his +thoughts began to draw themselves out into series, and took the +following form: "It's too bad, too bad," he said; "Campbell is a very +clever man--far cleverer than I am; a well-read man, too; but he has no +tact, no tact. It is deplorable; Reding's coming was one misfortune; +however, we might have got over that, we might have even turned it to an +advantage; but to use such arguments as he did! how could he hope to +convince him? he made us both a mere laughing-stock.... How did he throw +off? Oh, he said that the Rubrics were not binding. Who ever heard such +a thing--at least from an Anglo-Catholic? Why pretend to be a good +Catholic with such views? better call himself a Protestant or Erastian +at once, and one would know where to find him. Such a bad impression it +must make on Willis; I saw it did; he could hardly keep from smiling: +but Campbell has no tact at all. He goes on, on, his own way, bringing +out his own thoughts, which are very clever, original certainly, but +never considering his company. And he's so positive, so knock-me-down; +it is quite unpleasant, I don't know how to sit it sometimes. Oh, it is +a cruel thing this--the effect must be wretched. Poor Willis! I declare +I don't think we have moved him one inch, I really don't. I fancied at +one time he was even laughing at _me_.... What was it he said +afterwards? there was something else, I know. I recollect; that the +Catholic Church was in ruins, had broken to pieces. What a paradox! +who'll believe that but he? I declare I am so vexed I don't know what to +be at." He jumped up and began walking to and fro. "But all this is +because the Bishops won't interfere; one can't say it, that's the worst, +but they are at the bottom of the evil. They have but to put out their +little finger and enforce the Rubrics, and then the whole controversy +would be at an end.... I knew there was something else, yes! He said we +need not fast! But Cambridge men are always peculiar, they always have +some whim or other; he ought to have been at Oxford, and we should have +made a man of him. He has many good points, but he runs theories, and +rides hobbies, and drives consequences, to death." + +Here he was interrupted by his clerk, who told him that John Tims had +taken his oath that his wife should not be churched before the +congregation, and was half-minded to take his infant to the Methodists +for baptism; and his thoughts took a different direction. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +The winter had been on the whole dry and pleasant, but in February and +March the rains were so profuse, and the winds so high, that Bateman saw +very little of either Charles or Willis. He did not abandon his designs +on the latter, but it was an anxious question how best to conduct them. +As to Campbell, he was resolved to exclude him from any participation in +them; but he hesitated about Reding. He had found him far less +definitely Roman than he expected, and he conjectured that, by making +him his confidant and employing him against Willis, he really might +succeed in giving him an Anglican direction. Accordingly, he told him of +his anxiety to restore Willis to "the Church of his baptism;" and not +discouraged by Charles's advice to let well alone, for he might succeed +in drawing him from Rome without reclaiming him to Anglicanism, the +weather having improved, he asked the two to dinner on one of the later +Sundays in Lent. He determined to make a field-day of it; and, with that +view, he carefully got up some of the most popular works against the +Church of Rome. After much thought he determined to direct his attack on +some of the "practical evils," as he considered them, of "Romanism;" as +being more easy of proof than points of doctrine and history, in which, +too, for what he knew, Willis might by this time be better read than +himself. He considered, too, that, if Willis had been at all shaken in +his new faith when he was abroad, it was by the practical +exemplification which he had before his eyes of the issue of its +peculiar doctrines when freely carried out. Moreover, to tell the truth, +our good friend had not a very clear apprehension how much doctrine he +held in common with the Church of Rome, or where he was to stop in the +several details of Pope Pius's Creed; in consequence, it was evidently +safer to confine his attack to matters of practice. + +"You see, Willis," he said, as they sat down to table, "I have given you +abstinence food, not knowing whether you avail yourself of the +dispensation. We shall eat meat ourselves; but don't think we don't fast +at proper times; I don't agree with Campbell at all; we don't fast, +however, on Sunday. That is our rule, and, I take it, a primitive one." + +Willis answered that he did not know how the primitive usage lay, but he +supposed that both of them allowed that matters of discipline might be +altered by the proper authority. + +"Certainly," answered Bateman, "so that everything is done consistently +with the inspired text of Scripture;"--he stopped, itching, if he could, +to bring in some great subject, but not seeing how. He saw he must rush +_in medias res_; so he added,--"with which inspired text, I presume, +what one sees in foreign churches is not very consistent." + +"What? I suppose you mean antependia, rere-dosses, stone altars, copes, +and mitres," said Willis innocently; "which certainly are not in +Scripture." + +"True," said Bateman; "but these, though not in Scripture, are not +inconsistent with Scripture. They are all very right; but the worship of +Saints, especially the Blessed Virgin, and of relics, the gabbling over +prayers in an unknown tongue, Indulgences, and infrequent communions, I +suspect are directly unscriptural." + +"My dear Bateman," said Willis, "you seem to live in an atmosphere of +controversy; so it was at Oxford; there was always argument going on in +your rooms. Religion is a thing to enjoy, not to quarrel about; give me +a slice more of that leg of mutton." + +"Yes, Bateman," said Reding, "you must let us enjoy our meat. Willis +deserves it, for I believe he has had a fair walk to-day. Have you not +walked a good part of the way to Seaton and back? a matter of fourteen +miles, and hilly ground; it can't be dry, too, in parts yet." + +"True," said Bateman; "take a glass of wine, Willis; it's good Madeira; +an aunt of mine sent it me." + +"He puts us to shame," said Charles, "who have stepped into church from +our bedroom; he has trudged a pilgrimage to his." + +"I'm not saying a word against our dear friend Willis," said Bateman; +"it was merely a point on which I thought he would agree with me, that +there were many corruptions of worship in foreign churches." + +At last, when his silence was observable, Willis said that he supposed +that persons who were not Catholics could not tell what were corruptions +and what not. Here the subject dropped again; for Willis did not seem in +humour--perhaps he was too tired--to continue it. So they ate and drank, +with nothing but very commonplace remarks to season their meal withal, +till the cloth was removed. The table was then shoved back a bit, and +the three young men got over the fire, which Bateman made burn brightly. +Two of them at least had deserved some relaxation, and they were the two +who were to be opponent and respondent in the approaching argument--one +had had a long walk, the other had had two full services, a baptism, and +a funeral. The armistice continued a good quarter of an hour, which +Charles and Willis spent in easy conversation; till Bateman, who had +been priming himself the while with his controversial points, found +himself ready for the assault, and opened it in form. + +"Come, my dear Willis," he said, "I can't let you off so; I am sure what +you saw abroad scandalized you." + +This was almost rudely put. Willis said that, had he been a Protestant, +he might have been easily shocked; but he had been a Catholic; and he +drew an almost imperceptible sigh. Besides, had he had a temptation to +be shocked, he should have recollected that he was in a Church which in +all greater matters could not err. He had not come to the Church to +criticize, he said, but to learn. "I don't know," he said, "what is +meant by saying that we ought to have faith, that faith is a grace, +that faith is the means of our salvation, if there is nothing to +exercise it. Faith goes against sight; well, then, unless there are +sights which offend you, there is nothing for it to go against." + +Bateman called this a paradox; "If so," he said, "why don't we become +Mahometans? we should have enough to believe then." + +"Why, just consider," said Willis; "supposing your friend, an honourable +man, is accused of theft, and appearances are against him, would you at +once admit the charge? It would be a fair trial of your faith in him; +and if he were able in the event satisfactorily to rebut it, I don't +think he would thank you, should you have waited for his explanation +before you took his part, instead of knowing him too well to suspect it. +If, then, I come to the Church with faith in her, whatever I see there, +even if it surprises me, is but a trial of my faith." + +"That is true," said Charles; "but there must be some ground for faith; +we do not believe without reason; and the question is, whether what the +Church does, as in worship, is not a fair matter to form a judgment +upon, for or against." + +"A Catholic," said Willis, "as I was when I was abroad, has already +found his grounds, for he believes; but for one who has not--I mean a +Protestant--I certainly consider it is very uncertain whether he will +take _the_ view of Catholic worship which he ought to take. It may +easily happen that he will not understand it." + +"Yet persons have before now been converted by the sight of Catholic +worship," said Reding. + +"Certainly," answered Willis: "God works in a thousand ways; there is +much in Catholic worship to strike a Protestant, but there is much which +will perplex him; for instance, what Bateman has alluded to, our +devotion to the Blessed Virgin." + +"Surely," said Bateman, "this is a plain matter; it is quite impossible +that the worship paid by Roman Catholics to the Blessed Mary should not +interfere with the supreme adoration due to the Creator alone." + +"This is just an instance in point," said Willis; "you see you are +judging _à priori_; you know nothing of the state of the case from +experience, but you say, 'It must be; it can't be otherwise.' This is +the way a Protestant judges, and comes to one conclusion; a Catholic, +who acts, and does not speculate, feels the truth of the contrary." + +"Some things," said Bateman, "are so like axioms, as to supersede trial. +On the other hand, familiarity is very likely to hide from people the +real evil of certain practices." + +"How strange it is," answered Willis, "that you don't perceive that this +is the very argument which various sects urge against you Anglicans! For +instance, the Unitarian says that the doctrine of the Atonement _must_ +lead to our looking at the Father, not as a God of love, but of +vengeance only; and he calls the doctrine of eternal punishment immoral. +And so, the Wesleyan or Baptist declares that it is an absurdity to +suppose any one can hold the doctrine of baptismal regeneration, and +really be spiritual; that the doctrine _must_ have a numbing effect on +the mind, and destroy its simple reliance on the atonement of Christ. I +will take another instance: many a good Catholic, who never came across +Anglicans, is as utterly unable to realize your position as you are to +realize his. He cannot make out how you can be so illogical as not to go +forward or backward; nay, he pronounces your professed state of mind +impossible; he does not believe in its existence. I may deplore your +state; I may think you illogical and worse; but I know it is a state +which does exist. As, then, I admit that a person can hold one Catholic +Church, yet without believing that the Roman Communion is it, so I put +it to you, even as an _argumentum ad hominem_, whether you ought not to +believe that we can honour our Blessed Lady as the first of creatures, +without interfering with the honour due to God? At most, you ought to +call us only illogical, you ought not to deny that we do what we say we +do." + +"I make a distinction," said Bateman; "it is quite possible, I fully +grant, for an educated Romanist to distinguish between the devotion paid +by him to the Blessed Virgin, and the worship of God; I only say that +the multitude will not distinguish." + +"I know you say so," answered Willis; "and still, I repeat, not from +experience, but on an _à priori_ ground. You say, not 'it is so,' but +'it _must_ be so.'" + +There was a pause in the conversation, and then Bateman recommenced it. + +"You may give us some trouble," said he, laughing, "but we are resolved +to have you back, my good Willis. Now consider, you are a lover of +truth: is that Church from heaven which tells untruths?" + +Willis laughed too; "We must define the words _truth_ and _untruth_," he +said; "but, subject to that definition, I have no hesitation in +enunciating the truism, that a Church is not from heaven which tells +untruths." + +"Of course, you can't deny the proposition," said Bateman; "well, then, +is it not quite certain that in Rome itself there are relics which all +learned men now give up, and which yet are venerated as relics? For +instance, Campbell tells me that the reputed heads of St. Peter and St. +Paul, in some great Roman basilica, are certainly not the heads of the +Apostles, because the head of St. Paul was found with his body, after +the fire at his church some years since." + +"I don't know about the particular instance," answered Willis; "but you +are opening a large question which cannot be settled in a few words. If +I must speak, I should say this: I should begin with the assumption that +the existence of relics is not improbable; do you grant _that_?" + +"I grant nothing," said Bateman; "but go on." + +"Why you have plenty of heathen relics, which you admit. What is +Pompeii, and all that is found there, but one vast heathen relic? why +should there not be Christian relics in Rome and elsewhere as well as +pagan?" + +"Of course, of course," said Bateman. + +"Well, and relics may be identified. You have the tomb of the Scipios, +with their names on them. Did you find ashes in one of them, I suppose +you would be pretty certain that they were the ashes of a Scipio." + +"To the point," cried Bateman, "quicker." + +"St. Peter," continued Willis, "speaks of David, 'whose sepulchre is +with you unto this day.' Therefore it's nothing wonderful that a +religious relic should be preserved eleven hundred years, and identified +to be such, when a nation makes a point of preserving it." + +"This is beating about the bush," cried Bateman impatiently; "get on +quicker." + +"Let me go on my own way," said Willis--"then there is nothing +improbable, considering Christians have always been very careful about +the memorials of sacred things--" + +"You've not proved that," said Bateman, fearing that some manoeuvre, +he could not tell what, was in progress. + +"Well," said Willis, "you don't doubt it, I suppose, at least from the +fourth century, when St. Helena brought from the Holy Land the memorials +of our Lord's passion, and lodged them at Rome in the Basilica, which +was thereupon called Santa Croce. As to the previous times of +persecution, Christians, of course, had fewer opportunities of showing a +similar devotion, and historical records are less copious; yet, in spite +of this, its existence is as certain as any fact of history. They +collected the bones of St. Polycarp, the immediate disciple of St. John, +after he was burnt; as of St. Ignatius before him, after his exposure to +the beasts; and so in like manner the bones or blood of all the martyrs. +No one doubts it; I never heard of any one who did. So the disciples +took up the Baptist's body--it would have been strange if they had +not--and buried it 'in _the_ sepulchre,' as the Evangelist says, +speaking of it as known. Now, why should they not in like manner, and +even with greater reason, have rescued the bodies of St. Peter and St. +Paul, if it were only for decent burial? Is it then wonderful, if the +bodies were rescued, that they should be afterwards preserved?" + +"But they can't be in two places at once," said Bateman. + +"But hear me," answered Willis; "I say then if there is a tradition +that in a certain place there is a relic of an apostle, there is at +first sight a probability that it _is_ there; the presumption is in its +favour. Can you deny it? Well, if the same relic is reported to be in +two places, then one or the other tradition is erroneous, and the _primâ +facie_ force of both traditions is weakened; but I should not actually +discard either at once; each has its force still, though neither so +great a force. Now, suppose there are circumstances which confirm the +one, the other is weakened still further, and at length the probability +of its truth may become evanescent; and when a fair interval has passed, +and there is no change of evidence in its favour, then it is at length +given up. But all this is a work of time; meanwhile, it is not a bit +more of an objection to the doctrine and practice of relic-veneration +that a body is said to lie in two places, than to profane history that +Charles I. was reported by some authorities to be buried at Windsor, by +others at Westminster; which question was decided just before our +times. It is a question of evidence, and must be treated as such." + +"But if St. Paul's head was found under his own church," said Bateman, +"it's pretty clear it is not preserved at the other basilica." + +"True," answered Willis; "but grave questions of this kind cannot be +decided in a moment. I don't know myself the circumstances of the case, +and do but take your account of it. It has to be proved, then, I +suppose, that it _was_ St. Paul's head which was found with his body; +for, since he was beheaded, it would not be attached to it. This is one +question, and others would arise. It is not easy to settle a question of +history. Questions which seem settled revive. It is very well for +secular historians to give up a tradition or testimony at once, and for +a generation to oh-oh it; but the Church cannot do so; she has a +religious responsibility, and must move slowly. Take the _chance_ of its +turning out that the heads at St. John Lateran were, after all, those of +the two Apostles, and that she had cast them aside. Questions, I say, +revive. Did not Walpole make it highly probable that the two little +princes had a place in the procession at King Richard's coronation, +though a century before him two skeletons of boys were found in the +Tower at the very place where the children of Edward were said to have +been murdered and buried by the Duke of Gloucester? I speak from memory, +but the general fact which I am illustrating is undeniable. Ussher, +Pearson, and Voss proved that St. Ignatius's shorter Epistles were +genuine; and now, after the lapse of two centuries, the question is at +least plausibly mooted again." + +There was another pause, while Bateman thought over his facts and +arguments, but nothing was forthcoming at the moment. Willis continued: +"You must consider also that reputed relics, such as you have mentioned, +are generally in the custody of religious bodies, who are naturally very +jealous of attempts to prove them spurious, and, with a pardonable +_esprit de corps_, defend them with all their might, and oppose +obstacles in the way of an adverse decision; just as your own society +defends, most worthily, the fair fame of your foundress, Queen Boadicea. +Were the case given against her by every tribunal in the land, your +valiant and loyal Head would not abandon her; it would break his +magnanimous heart; he would die in her service as a good knight. Both +from religious duty, then, and from human feeling, it is a very arduous +thing to get a received relic disowned." + +"Well," said Bateman, "to my poor judgment it does seem a dishonesty to +keep up inscriptions, for instance, which every one knows not to be +true." + +"My dear Bateman, that is begging the question," said Willis; "_every_ +body does _not_ know it; it is a point in course of settlement, but not +settled; you may say that _individuals_ have settled it, or it _may_ be +settled, but it is not settled yet. Parallel cases happen frequently in +civil matters, and no one speaks harshly of existing individuals or +bodies in consequence. Till lately the Monument in London bore an +inscription to the effect that London had been burned by us poor +Papists. A hundred years ago, Pope, the poet, had called the 'column' 'a +tall bully' which 'lifts its head and lies,' Yet the inscription was not +removed till a few years since--I believe when the Monument was +repaired. That was an opportunity for erasing a calumny which, till +then, had not been definitely pronounced to be such, and not pronounced +in deference to the _primâ facie_ authority of a statement +contemporaneous with the calamity which it recorded. There is never a +_point_ of time at which you can say, 'The tradition is now disproved.' +When a received belief has been apparently exposed, the question lies +dormant for the opportunity of fresh arguments; when none appear, then +at length an accident, such as the repair of a building, despatches it." + +"We have somehow got off the subject," thought Bateman; and he sat +fidgeting about to find the thread of his argument. Reding put in an +objection; he said that no one knew or cared about the inscription on +the Monument, but religious veneration was paid to the two heads at St. +John Lateran. + +"Right," said Bateman, "that's just what I meant to say." + +"Well," answered Willis, "as to the particular case--mind, I am taking +your account of it, for I don't profess to know how the matter lies. But +let us consider the extent of the mistake. There is no doubt in the +world that at least they are the heads of martyrs; the only question is +this, and no more, whether they are the very heads of the two Apostles. +From time immemorial they have been preserved upon or under the altar as +the heads of saints or martyrs; and it requires to know very little of +Christian antiquities to be perfectly certain that they really are +saintly relics, even though unknown. Hence the sole mistake is, that +Catholics have venerated, what ought to be venerated anyhow, under a +wrong name; perhaps have expected miracles (which they had a right to +expect), and have experienced them (as they might well experience them), +because they _were_ the relics of saints, though they were in error as +to what saints. This surely is no great matter." + +"You have made three assumptions," said Bateman; "first, that none but +the relics of saints have been placed under altars; secondly, that these +relics were always there; thirdly--thirdly--I know there was a +third--let me see--" + +"Most true," said Willis, interrupting him, "and I will help you to some +others. I have assumed that there are Christians in the world called +Catholics; again, that they think it right to venerate relics; but, my +dear Bateman, these were the grounds, and not the point of our argument; +and if they are to be questioned, it must be in a distinct dispute: but +I really think we have had enough of disputation." + +"Yes, Bateman," said Charles; "it is getting late. I must think of +returning. Give us some tea, and let us begone." + +"Go home?" cried Bateman; "why, we have just done dinner, and done +nothing else as yet; I had a great deal to say." + +However, he rang the bell for tea, and had the table cleared. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +The conversation flagged; Bateman was again busy with his memory; and he +was getting impatient too; time was slipping away, and no blow struck; +moreover, Willis was beginning to gape, and Charles seemed impatient to +be released. "These Romanists put things so plausibly," he said to +himself, "but very unfairly, most unfairly; one ought to be up to their +dodges. I dare say, if the truth were known, Willis has had lessons; he +looks so demure; I dare say he is keeping back a great deal, and playing +upon my ignorance. Who knows? perhaps he's a concealed Jesuit." It was +an awful thought, and suspended the course of his reflections some +seconds. "I wonder what he does really think; it's so difficult to get +at the bottom of them; they won't tell tales, and they are under +obedience; one never knows when to believe them. I suspect he has been +wofully disappointed with Romanism; he looks so thin; but of course he +won't say so; it hurts a man's pride, and he likes to be consistent; he +doesn't like to be laughed at, and so he makes the best of things. I +wish I knew how to treat him; I was wrong in having Reding here; of +course Willis would not be confidential before a third person. He's +like the fox that lost his tail. It was bad tact in me; I see it now; +what a thing it is to have tact! it requires very delicate tact. There +are so many things I wished to say, about Indulgences, about their so +seldom communicating; I think I must ask him about the Mass." So, after +fidgeting a good deal within, while he was ostensibly employed in making +tea, he commenced his last assault. + +"Well, we shall have you back again among us by next Christmas, Willis," +he said; "I can't give you greater law; I am certain of it; it takes +time, but slow and sure. What a joyful time it will be! I can't tell +what keeps you; you are doing nothing; you are flung into a corner; you +are wasting life. _What_ keeps you?" + +Willis looked odd; then he simply answered, "Grace." + +Bateman was startled, but recovered himself; "Heaven forbid," he said, +"that I should treat these things lightly, or interfere with you unduly. +I know, my dear friend, what a serious fellow you are; but do tell me, +just tell me, how can you justify the Mass, as it is performed abroad; +how can it be called a 'reasonable service,' when all parties conspire +to gabble it over as if it mattered not a jot who attended to it, or +even understood it? Speak, man, speak," he added, gently shaking him by +the shoulder. + +"These are such difficult questions," answered Willis; "must I speak? +Such difficult questions," he continued, rising into a more animated +manner, and kindling as he went on; "I mean, people view them so +differently: it is so difficult to convey to one person the idea of +another. The idea of worship is different in the Catholic Church from +the idea of it in your Church; for, in truth, the _religions_ are +different. Don't deceive yourself, my dear Bateman," he said tenderly, +"it is not that ours is your religion carried a little farther,--a +little too far, as you would say. No, they differ in kind, not in +degree; ours is one religion, yours another. And when the time comes, +and come it will, for you, alien as you are now, to submit yourself to +the gracious yoke of Christ, then, my dearest Bateman, it will be +_faith_ which will enable you to bear the ways and usages of Catholics, +which else might perhaps startle you. Else, the habits of years, the +associations in your mind of a certain outward behaviour with real +inward acts of devotion, might embarrass you, when you had to conform +yourself to other habits, and to create for yourself other associations. +But this faith, of which I speak, the great gift of God, will enable you +in that day to overcome yourself, and to submit, as your judgment, your +will, your reason, your affections, so your tastes and likings, to the +rule and usage of the Church. Ah, that faith should be necessary in such +a matter, and that what is so natural and becoming under the +circumstances, should have need of an explanation! I declare, to me," he +said, and he clasped his hands on his knees, and looked forward as if +soliloquizing, "to me nothing is so consoling, so piercing, so +thrilling, so overcoming, as the Mass, said as it is among us. I could +attend Masses for ever, and not be tired. It is not a mere form of +words,--it is a great action, the greatest action that can be on earth. +It is, not the invocation merely, but, if I dare use the word, the +evocation of the Eternal. He becomes present on the altar in flesh and +blood, before whom angels bow and devils tremble. This is that awful +event which is the scope, and is the interpretation, of every part of +the solemnity. Words are necessary, but as means, not as ends; they are +not mere addresses to the throne of grace, they are instruments of what +is far higher, of consecration, of sacrifice. They hurry on as if +impatient to fulfil their mission. Quickly they go, the whole is quick; +for they are all parts of one integral action. Quickly they go; for they +are awful words of sacrifice, they are a work too great to delay upon; +as when it was said in the beginning, 'What thou doest, do quickly.' +Quickly they pass; for the Lord Jesus goes with them, as He passed along +the lake in the days of His flesh, quickly calling first one and then +another. Quickly they pass; because as the lightning which shineth from +one part of the heaven unto the other, so is the coming of the Son of +Man. Quickly they pass; for they are as the words of Moses, when the +Lord came down in the cloud, calling on the Name of the Lord as He +passed by, 'The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, +long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth.' And as Moses on the +mountain, so we too 'make haste and bow our heads to the earth, and +adore.' So we, all around, each in his place, look out for the great +Advent, 'waiting for the moving of the water.' Each in his place, with +his own heart, with his own wants, with his own thoughts, with his own +intention, with his own prayers, separate but concordant, watching what +is going on, watching its progress, uniting in its consummation;--not +painfully and hopelessly following a hard form of prayer from beginning +to end, but, like a concert of musical instruments, each different, but +concurring in a sweet harmony, we take our part with God's priest, +supporting him, yet guided by him. There are little children there, and +old men, and simple labourers, and students in seminaries, priests +preparing for Mass, priests making their thanksgiving; there are +innocent maidens, and there are penitent sinners; but out of these many +minds rises one eucharistic hymn, and the great Action is the measure +and the scope of it. And oh, my dear Bateman," he added, turning to him, +"you ask me whether this is not a formal, unreasonable service--it is +wonderful!" he cried, rising up, "quite wonderful. When will these dear, +good people be enlightened? _O Sapientia, fortiter suaviterque disponens +omnia, O Adonai, O Clavis David et Exspectatio gentium, veni ad +salvandum nos, Domine Deus noster._" + +Now, at least, there was no mistaking Willis. Bateman stared, and was +almost frightened at a burst of enthusiasm which he had been far from +expecting. "Why, Willis," he said, "it is not true, then, after all, +what we heard, that you were somewhat dubious, shaky, in your adherence +to Romanism? I'm sure I beg your pardon; I would not for the world have +annoyed you, had I known the truth." + +Willis's face still glowed, and he looked as youthful and radiant as he +had been two years before. There was nothing ungentle in his +impetuosity; a smile, almost a laugh, was on his face, as if he was +half ashamed of his own warmth; but this took nothing from its evident +sincerity. He seized Bateman's two hands, before the latter knew where +he was, lifted him up out of his seat, and, raising his own mouth close +to his ear, said, in a low voice, "I would to God, that not only thou, +but also all who hear me this day, were both in little and in much such +as I am, except these chains." Then, reminding him it had grown late, +and bidding him good-night, he left the room with Charles. + +Bateman remained a while with his back to the fire after the door had +closed; presently he began to give expression to his thoughts. "Well," +he said, "he's a brick, a regular brick; he has almost affected me +myself. What a way those fellows have with them! I declare his touch has +made my heart beat; how catching enthusiasm is! Any one but I might +really have been unsettled. He _is_ a real good fellow; what a pity we +have not got him! he's just the sort of man we want. He'd make a +splendid Anglican; he'd convert half the Dissenters in the country. +Well, we shall have them in time; we must not be impatient. But the idea +of his talking of converting _me_! 'in little and in much,' as he worded +it! By-the-bye, what did he mean by 'except these chains'?" He sat +ruminating on the difficulty; at first he was inclined to think that, +after all, he might have some misgiving about his position; then he +thought that perhaps he had a hair-shirt or a _catenella_ on him; and +lastly, he came to the conclusion that he had just meant nothing at all, +and did but finish the quotation he had begun. + +After passing some little time in this state, he looked towards the +tea-tray; poured himself out another cup of tea; ate a bit of toast; +took the coals off the fire; blew out one of the candles, and, taking up +the other, left the parlour and wound like an omnibus up the steep +twisting staircase to his bedroom. + +Meanwhile Willis and Charles were proceeding to their respective homes. +For a while they had to pursue the same path, which they did in silence. +Charles had been moved far more than Bateman, or rather touched, by the +enthusiasm of his Catholic friend, though, from a difficulty in finding +language to express himself, and a fear of being carried off his legs, +he had kept his feelings to himself. When they were about to part, +Willis said to him, in a subdued tone, "You are soon going to Oxford, +dearest Reding; oh, that you were one with us! You have it in you. I +have thought of you at Mass many times. Our priest has said Mass for +you. Oh, my dear friend, quench not God's grace; listen to His call; you +have had what others have not. What you want is faith. I suspect you +have quite proof enough; enough to be converted on. But faith is a gift; +pray for that great gift, without which you cannot come to the Church; +without which," and he paused, "you cannot walk aright when you are in +the Church. And now farewell! alas, our path divides; all is easy to him +that believeth. May God give you that gift of faith, as He has given me! +Farewell again; who knows when I may see you next, and where? may it be +in the courts of the true Jerusalem, the Queen of Saints, the Holy +Roman Church, the Mother of us all!" He drew Charles to him and kissed +his cheek, and was gone before Charles had time to say a word. + +Yet Charles could not have spoken had he had ever so much opportunity. +He set off at a brisk pace, cutting down with his stick the twigs and +brambles which the pale twilight discovered in his path. It seemed as if +the kiss of his friend had conveyed into his own soul the enthusiasm +which his words had betokened. He felt himself possessed, he knew not +how, by a high superhuman power, which seemed able to push through +mountains, and to walk the sea. With winter around him, he felt within +like the spring-tide, when all is new and bright. He perceived that he +had found, what indeed he had never sought, because he had never known +what it was, but what he had ever wanted,--a soul sympathetic with his +own. He felt he was no longer alone in the world, though he was losing +that true congenial mind the very moment he had found him. Was this, he +asked himself, the communion of Saints? Alas! how could it be, when he +was in one communion and Willis in another? "O mighty Mother!" burst +from his lips; he quickened his pace almost to a trot, scaling the steep +ascents and diving into the hollows which lay between him and Boughton. +"O mighty Mother!" he still said, half unconsciously; "O mighty Mother! +I come, O mighty Mother! I come; but I am far from home. Spare me a +little; I come with what speed I may, but I am slow of foot, and not as +others, O mighty Mother!" + +By the time he had walked two miles in this excitement, bodily and +mental, he felt himself, as was not wonderful, considerably exhausted. +He slackened his pace, and gradually came to himself, but still he went +on, as if mechanically, "O mighty Mother!" Suddenly he cried, "Hallo! +where did I get these words? Willis did not use them. Well, I must be on +my guard against these wild ways. Any one can be an enthusiast; +enthusiasm is not truth ... O mighty Mother!... Alas, I know where my +heart is! but I must go by reason ... O mighty Mother!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +The time came at length for Charles to return to Oxford; but during the +last month scruples had arisen in his mind, whether, with his present +feelings, he could consistently even present himself for his +examination. No subscription was necessary for his entrance into the +schools, but he felt that the honours of the class-list were only +intended for those who were _bonâ fide_ adherents of the Church of +England. He laid his difficulty before Carlton, who in consequence did +his best to ascertain thoroughly his present state of mind. It seemed +that Charles had no _intention_, either now or at any future day, of +joining the Church of Rome; that he felt he could not take such a step +at present without distinct sin; that it would simply be against his +conscience to do so; that he had no feeling whatever that God called him +to do so; that he felt that nothing could justify so serious an act but +the conviction that he could not be saved in the Church to which he +belonged; that he had no such feeling; that he had no definite case +against his own Church sufficient for leaving it, nor any definite view +that the Church of Rome was the One Church of Christ:--that still he +could not help suspecting that one day he should think otherwise; he +conceived the day might come, nay would come, when he should have that +conviction which at present he had not, and which of course would be a +call on him to act upon it, by leaving the Church of England for that of +Rome; he could not tell distinctly why he so anticipated, except that +there were so many things which he thought right in the Church of Rome, +and so many which he thought wrong in the Church of England; and, +because, too, the more he had an opportunity of hearing and seeing, the +greater cause he had to admire and revere the Roman Catholic system, and +to be dissatisfied with his own. Carlton, after carefully considering +the case, advised him to go in for his examination. He acted thus, on +the one hand, as vividly feeling the changes which take place in the +minds of young men, and the difficulty of Reding foretelling his own +state of opinions two years to come; and, on the other, from the +reasonable anticipation that a contrary advice would have been the very +way to ripen his present doubts on the untenableness of Anglicanism into +conviction. + +Accordingly, his examination came off in due time; the schools were +full, he did well, and his class was considered to be secure. Sheffield +followed soon after, and did brilliantly. The list came out; Sheffield +was in the first class, Charles in the second. There is always of +necessity a good deal of accident in these matters; but in the present +case reasons enough could be given to account for the unequal success of +the two friends. Charles had lost some time by his father's death, and +family matters consequent upon it; and his virtual rustication for the +last six months had been a considerable disadvantage to him. Moreover, +though he had been a careful, persevering reader, he certainly had not +run the race for honours with the same devotion as Sheffield; nor had +his religious difficulties, particularly his late indecision about +presenting himself at all, been without their serious influence upon his +attention and his energy. As success had not been the first desire of +his soul, so failure was not his greatest misery. He would have much +preferred success; but in a day or two he found he could well endure the +want of it. + +Now came the question about his degree, which could not be taken without +subscription to the Articles. Another consultation followed with +Carlton. There was no need of his becoming a B.A. at the moment; nothing +would be gained by it; better that he should postpone the step. He had +but to go down and say nothing about it; no one would be the wiser; and +if, at the end of six months, as Carlton sanguinely anticipated, he +found himself in a more comfortable frame of mind, then let him come up, +and set all right. + +What was he to do with himself at the moment? There was little +difficulty here either, what to propose. He had better be reading with +some clergyman in the country; thus he would at once be preparing for +orders, and clearing his mind on the points which at present troubled +him; besides, he might thus have some opportunity for parochial duty, +which would have a tranquillizing and sobering effect on his mind. As to +the books to which he should give his attention, of course the choice +would rest with the clergyman who was to guide him; but for himself +Carlton would not recommend the usual works in controversy with Rome, +for which the Anglican Church was famous; rather those which are of a +positive character, which treated subjects philosophically, +historically, or doctrinally, and displayed the peculiar principles of +that Church; Hooker's great work, for instance; or Bull's _Defensio_ and +_Harmonia_, or Pearson's _Vindiciĉ_, or Jackson on the Creed, a noble +work; to which Laud on Tradition might be added, though its form was +controversial. Such, too, were Bingham's Antiquities, Waterland on the +Use of Antiquity, Wall on Infant Baptism, and Palmer on the Liturgy. Nor +ought he to neglect practical and devotional authors, as Bishops Taylor, +Wilson, and Horne. The most important point remained; whither was he to +betake himself? did he know of any clergyman in the country who would be +willing to receive him as a friend and a pupil? Charles thought of +Campbell, with whom he was on the best of terms; and Carlton knew enough +of him by reputation, to be perfectly sure that he could not be in safer +hands. + +Charles, in consequence, made the proposal to him, and it was accepted. +Nothing then remained for him but to pay a few bills, to pack up some +books which he had left in a friend's room, and then to bid adieu, at +least for a time, to the cloisters and groves of the University. He +quitted in June, when everything was in that youthful and fragrant +beauty which he had admired so much in the beginning of his residence +three years before. + + + + +Part III. + +CHAPTER I. + + +But now we must look forward, not back. Once before we took leave to +pass over nearly two years in the life of the subject of this narrative, +and now a second and a dreary and longer interval shall be consigned to +oblivion, and the reader shall be set down in the autumn of the year +next but one after that in which Charles took his class and did not take +his degree. + +At this time our interest is confined to Boughton and the Rectory at +Sutton. As to Melford, friend Bateman had accepted the incumbency of a +church in a manufacturing town with a district of 10,000 souls, where he +was full of plans for the introduction of the surplice and gilt +candlesticks among his people, and where, it is to be hoped, he will +learn wisdom. Willis also was gone, on a different errand: he had bid +adieu to his mother and brother soon after Charles had gone into the +schools, and now was Father Aloysius de Sanctâ Cruce in the Passionist +Convent of Pennington. + +One evening, at the end of September, in the year aforesaid, Campbell +had called at Boughton, and was walking in the garden with Miss Reding. +"Really, Mary," he said to her, "I don't think it does any good to keep +him. The best years of his life are going, and, humanly speaking, there +is not any chance of his changing his mind, at least till he has made a +trial of the Church of Rome. It is quite possible that experience may +drive him back." + +"It is a dreadful dilemma," she answered; "how can we even indirectly +give him permission to take so fatal a step?" + +"He is a dear, good fellow," he made reply; "he is a sterling fellow; +all this long time that he has been with me he has made no difficulties; +he has read thoroughly the books that I recommended and more, and done +whatever I told him. You know I have employed him in the parish; he has +taught the Catechism to the children, and been almoner. Poor fellow, his +health is suffering now: he sees there's no end of it, and hope deferred +makes the heart sick." + +"It is so dreadful to give any countenance to what is so very wrong," +said Mary. + +"Why, what is to be done?" answered Campbell; "and we need not +countenance it; he can't be kept in leading-strings for ever, and there +has been a kind of bargain. He wanted to make a move at the end of the +first year--I didn't think it worth while to fidget you about it--but I +quieted him. We compounded in this way: he removed his name from the +college-boards,--there was not the slightest chance of his ever signing +the Articles,--and he consented to wait another year. Now the time's +up, and more, and he is getting impatient. So it's not we who shall be +giving him countenance, it will only be his leaving us." + +"But it is so fearful," insisted Mary; "and my poor mother--I declare I +think it will be her death." + +"It will be a crushing blow, there's no doubt of that," said Campbell; +"what does she know of it at present?" + +"I hardly can tell you," answered she; "she has been informed of it +indeed distinctly a year ago; but seeing Charles so often, and he in +appearance just the same, I fear she does not realize it. She has never +spoken to me on the subject. I fancy she thinks it a scruple; +troublesome, certainly, but of course temporary." + +"I must break it to her, Mary," said Campbell. + +"Well, I think it _must_ be done," she replied, heaving a sudden sigh; +"and if so, it will be a real kindness in you to save me a task to which +I am quite unequal. But have a talk with Charles first. When it comes to +the point he may have a greater difficulty than he thinks beforehand." + +And so it was settled; and, full of care at the double commission with +which he was charged, Campbell rode back to Sutton. + +Poor Charles was sitting at an open window, looking out upon the +prospect, when Campbell entered the room. It was a beautiful landscape, +with bold hills in the distance, and a rushing river beneath him. +Campbell came up to him without his perceiving it; and, putting his hand +on his shoulder, asked his thoughts. + +Charles turned round, and smiled sadly. "I am like Moses seeing the +land," he said; "my dear Campbell, when shall the end be?" + +"That, my good Charles, of course does not rest with me," answered +Campbell. + +"Well," said he, "the year is long run out; may I go my way?" + +"You can't expect that I, or any of us, should even indirectly +countenance you in what, with all our love of you, we think a sin," said +Campbell. + +"That is as much as to say, 'Act for yourself,'" answered Charles; +"well, I am willing." + +Campbell did not at once reply; then he said, "I shall have to break it +to your poor mother; Mary thinks it will be her death." + +Charles dropped his head on the window-sill, upon his hands. "No," he +said; "I trust that she, and all of us, will be supported." + +"So do I, fervently," answered Campbell; "it will be a most terrible +blow to your sisters. My dear fellow, should you not take all this into +account? Do seriously consider the actual misery you are causing for +possible good." + +"Do you think I have not considered it, Campbell? Is it nothing for one +like me to be breaking all these dear ties, and to be losing the esteem +and sympathy of so many persons I love? Oh, it has been a most piercing +thought; but I have exhausted it, I have drunk it out. I have got +familiar with the prospect now, and am fully reconciled. Yes, I give up +home, I give up all who have ever known me, loved me, valued me, wished +me well; I know well I am making myself a by-word and an outcast." + +"Oh, my dear Charles," answered Campbell, "beware of a very subtle +temptation which may come on you here. I have meant to warn you of it +before. The greatness of the sacrifice stimulates you; you do it because +it is so much to do." + +Charles smiled. "How little you know me!" he said; "if that were the +case, should I have waited patiently two years and more? Why did I not +rush forward as others have done? _You_ will not deny that I have acted +rationally, obediently. I have put the subject from me again and again, +and it has returned." + +"I'll say nothing harsh or unkind of you, Charles," said Campbell; "but +it's a most unfortunate delusion. I wish I could make you take in the +idea that there is the chance of its _being_ a delusion." + +"Ah, Campbell, how can you forget so?" answered Charles; "don't you know +this is the very thing which has influenced me so much all along? I +said, 'Perhaps I am in a dream. Oh, that I could pinch myself and +awake!' You know what stress I laid on my change of feeling upon my dear +father's death; what I thought to be convictions before, vanished then +like a cloud. I have said to myself, 'Perhaps these will vanish too.' +But no; 'the clouds return after the rain;' they come again and again, +heavier than ever. It is a conviction rooted in me; it endures against +the prospect of loss of mother and sisters. Here I sit wasting my days, +when I might be useful in life. Why? Because this hinders me. Lately it +has increased on me tenfold. You will be shocked, but let me tell you +in confidence,--lately I have been quite afraid to ride, or to bathe, or +to do anything out of the way, lest something should happen, and I might +be taken away with a great duty unaccomplished. No, by this time I have +proved that it is a real conviction. My belief in the Church of Rome is +part of myself; I cannot act against it without acting against God." + +"It is a most deplorable state of things certainly," said Campbell, who +had begun to walk up and down the room; "that it is a delusion, I am +confident; perhaps you are to find it so, just when you have taken the +step. You will solemnly bind yourself to a foreign creed, and, as the +words part from your mouth, the mist will roll up from before your eyes, +and the truth will show itself. How dreadful!" + +"I have thought of that too," said Charles, "and it has influenced me a +great deal. It has made me shrink back. But I now believe it to be like +those hideous forms which in fairy tales beset good knights, when they +would force their way into some enchanted palace. Recollect the words in +Thalaba, 'The talisman is _faith_.' If I have good grounds for +believing, to believe is a duty; God will take care of His own work. I +shall not be deserted in my utmost need. Faith ever begins with a +venture, and is rewarded with sight." + +"Yes, my good Charles," answered Campbell; "but the question is, whether +your grounds _are_ good. What I mean is, that, _since_ they are _not_ +good, they will not avail you in the trial. You will then, too late, +find they are not good, but delusive." + +"Campbell," answered Charles, "I consider that all reason comes from +God; our grounds must at best be imperfect; but if they appear to be +sufficient after prayer, diligent search, obedience, waiting, and, in +short, doing our part, they are His voice calling us on. He it is, in +that case, who makes them seem convincing to us. I am in His hands. The +only question is, what would He have me to do? I cannot resist the +conviction which is upon me. This last week it has possessed me in a +different way than ever before. It is now so strong, that to wait longer +is to resist God. Whether I join the Catholic Church is now simply a +question of days. I wish, dear Campbell, to leave you in peace and love. +Therefore, consent; let me go." + +"Let you go!" answered Campbell; "certainly, were it the Catholic Church +to which you are going, there would be no need to ask; but 'let you go,' +how can you expect it from us when we do not think so? Think of our +case, Charles, as well as your own; throw yourself into our state of +feeling. For myself, I cannot deny, I never have concealed from you my +convictions, that the Romish Church is antichristian. She has ten +thousand gifts, she is in many respects superior to our own; but she has +a something in her which spoils all. I have no _confidence_ in her; and, +that being the case, how can I 'let you go' to her? No: it's like a +person saying, 'Let me go and hang myself;' 'let me go sleep in a +fever-ward;' 'let me jump into that well;'--how can I 'let you go'?" + +"Ah," said Charles, "that's our dreadful difference; we can't get +farther than that. _I_ think the Church of Rome the Prophet of God; +_you_, the tool of the devil." + +"I own," said Campbell, "I do think that, if you take this step, you +will find yourself in the hands of a Circe, who will change you, make a +brute of you." + +Charles slightly coloured. + +"I won't go on," added Campbell; "I pain you; it's no good; perhaps I am +making matters worse." + +Neither spoke for some time. At length Charles got up, came up to +Campbell, took his hand, and kissed it. "You have been a kind, +disinterested friend to me for two years," he said; "you have given me a +lodging under your roof; and now we are soon to be united by closer +ties. God reward you; but 'let me go, for the day breaketh.'" + +"It is hopeless!" cried Campbell; "let us part friends: I must break it +to your mother." + +In ten days after this conversation Charles was ready for his journey; +his room put to rights; his portmanteau strapped; and a gig at the door, +which was to take him the first stage. He was to go round by Boughton; +it had been arranged by Campbell and Mary that it would be best for him +not to see his mother (to whom Campbell had broken the matter at once) +till he took leave of her. It would be needless pain to both of them to +attempt an interview sooner. + +Charles leapt from the gig with a beating heart, and ran up to his +mother's room. She was sitting by the fire at her work when he entered; +she held out her hand coldly to him, and he sat down. Nothing was said +for a little while; then, without leaving off her occupation, she said, +"Well, Charles, and so you are leaving us. Where and how do you propose +to employ yourself when you have entered upon your new life?" + +Charles answered that he had not yet turned his mind to the +consideration of anything but the great step on which everything else +depended. + +There was another silence; then she said, "You won't find anywhere such +friends as you have had at home, Charles." Presently she continued, "You +have had everything in your favour, Charles; you have been blessed with +talents, advantages of education, easy circumstances; many a deserving +young man has to scramble on as he can." + +Charles answered that he was deeply sensible how much he owed in +temporal matters to Providence, and that it was only at His bidding that +he was giving them up. + +"We all looked up to you, Charles; perhaps we made too much of you; +well, God be with you; you have taken your line." + +Poor Charles said that no one could conceive what it cost him to give up +what was so very dear to him, what was part of himself; there was +nothing on earth which he prized like his home. + +"Then why do you leave us?" she said quickly; "you must have your way; +you do it, I suppose, because you like it." + +"Oh really, my dear mother," cried he, "if you saw my heart! You know in +Scripture how people were obliged in the Apostles' times to give up all +for Christ." + +"We are heathens, then," she replied; "thank you, Charles, I am obliged +to you for this;" and she dashed away a tear from her eye. + +Charles was almost beside himself; he did not know what to say; he stood +up, and leaned his elbow on the mantelpiece, supporting his head on his +hand. + +"Well, Charles," she continued, still going on with her work, "perhaps +the day will come" ... her voice faltered; "your dear father" ... she +put down her work. + +"It is useless misery," said Charles; "why should I stay? good-bye for +the present, my dearest mother. I leave you in good hands, not kinder, +but better than mine; you lose me, you gain another. Farewell for the +present; we will meet when you will, when you call; it will be a happy +meeting." + +He threw himself on his knees, and laid his cheek on her lap; she could +no longer resist him; she hung over him, and began to smooth down his +hair as she had done when he was a child. At length scalding tears began +to fall heavily upon his face and neck; he bore them for a while, then +started up, kissed her cheek impetuously, and rushed out of the room. In +a few seconds he had seen and had torn himself from his sisters, and was +in his gig again by the side of his phlegmatic driver, dancing slowly up +and down on his way to Collumpton. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The reader may ask whither Charles is going, and, though it would not be +quite true to answer that he did not know better than the said reader +himself, yet he had most certainly very indistinct notions what was +becoming of him even locally, and, like the Patriarch, "went out, not +knowing whither he went." He had never seen a Catholic priest, to know +him, in his life; never, except once as a boy, been inside a Catholic +church; he only knew one Catholic in the world, and where he was he did +not know. But he knew that the Passionists had a Convent in London; and +it was not unnatural that, without knowing whether young Father Aloysius +was there or not, he should direct his course to San Michaele. + +Yet, in kindness to Mary and all of them, he did not profess to be +leaving direct for London; but he proposed to betake himself to Carlton, +who still resided in Oxford, and to ask his advice what was to be done +under his circumstances. It seemed, too, to be interposing what they +would consider a last chance of averting what to them was so dismal a +calamity. + +To Oxford, then, he directed his course; and, having some accidental +business at Bath, he stopped there for the night, intending to continue +his journey next morning. Among other jobs, he had to get a "Garden of +the Soul," and two or three similar books which might help him in the +great preparation which awaited his arrival in London. He went into a +religious publisher's in Danvers Street with that object, and while +engaged in a back part of the shop in looking over a pile of Catholic +works, which, to the religious public, had inferior attractions to the +glittering volumes, Evangelical and Anglo-Catholic, which had possession +of the windows and principal table, he heard the shop-door open, and, on +looking round, saw a familiar face. It was that of a young clergyman, +with a very pretty girl on his arm, whom her dress pronounced to be a +bride. Love was in their eyes, joy in their voice, and affluence in +their gait and bearing. Charles had a faintish feeling come over him; +somewhat such as might beset a man on hearing a call for pork-chops when +he was sea-sick. He retreated behind a pile of ledgers and other +stationery, but they could not save him from the low, dulcet tones which +from time to time passed from one to the other. + +"Have you got some of the last Oxford reprints of standard works?" said +the bridegroom to the shopman. + +"Yes, sir; but which set did you mean? 'Selections from Old Divines,' +or, 'New Catholic Adaptations'?" + +"Oh, not the Adaptations," answered he, "they are extremely dangerous; I +mean real Church-of-England divinity--Bull, Patrick, Hooker, and the +rest of them." + +The shopman went to look them out. + +"I think it was those Adaptations, dearest," said the lady, "that the +Bishop warned us against." + +"Not the Bishop, Louisa; it was his daughter." + +"Oh, Miss Primrose, so it was," said she; "and there was one book she +recommended, what was it?" + +"Not a book, it was a speech," said White; "Mr. O'Ballaway's at Exeter +Hall; but I think we should not quite like it." + +"No, no, Henry, it _was_ a book, dear; I can't recall the name." + +"You mean Dr. Crow's 'New Refutation of Popery,' perhaps; but the +_Bishop_ recommended _that_." + +The shopman returned. "Oh, what a sweet face!" she said, looking at the +frontispiece of a little book she got hold of; "do look, Henry; whom +does it put you in mind of?" + +"Why, it's meant for St. John the Baptist," said Henry. + +"It's so like little Angelina Primrose," said she, "the hair is just +hers. I wonder it doesn't strike you." + +"It does--it does," said he, smiling at her; "but it's getting late; you +must not be out much longer in the sharp air, and you have nothing for +your throat. I have chosen my books while you have been gazing on that +little St. John." + +"I can't think who it is so like," continued she; "oh, I know; it's +Angelina's aunt, Lady Constance." + +"Come, Louisa, the horses too will suffer; we must return to our +friends." + +"Oh, there's one book, I can't recollect it; tell me what it is, Henry. +I shall be so sorry not to have got it." + +"Was it the new work on Gregorian Chants?" asked he. + +"Ah, it's true, I want it for the school-children, but it's not that." + +"Is it 'The Catholic Parsonage'?" he asked again; "or, 'Lays of the +Apostles'? or, 'The English Church older than the Roman'? or, +'Anglicanism of the Early Martyrs'? or, 'Confessions of a Pervert'? or, +'Eustace Beville'? or, 'Modified Celibacy'?" + +"No, no, no," said Louisa; "dear me, it is so stupid." + +"Well, now really, Louisa," he insisted, "you must come another time; it +won't do, dearest; it won't do." + +"Oh, I recollect," she said, "I recollect--'Abbeys and Abbots;' I want +to get some hints for improving the rectory-windows when we get home; +and our church wants, you know, a porch for the poor people. The book is +full of designs." + +The book was found and added to the rest, which had been already taken +to the carriage. "Now, Louisa," said White. "Well, dearest, there's one +more place we must call at," she made answer; "tell John to drive to +Sharp's; we can go round by the nursery--it's only a few steps out of +the way--I want to say a word to the man there about our greenhouse; +there is no good gardener in our own neighbourhood." + +"What is the good, Louisa, now?" said her husband; "we shan't be at home +this month to come;" and then, with due resignation, he directed the +coachman to the nurseryman's whom Louisa named, as he put her into the +carriage, and then followed her. + +Charles breathed freely as they went out; a severe text of Scripture +rose on his mind, but he repressed the uncharitable feeling, and turned +himself to the anxious duties which lay before him. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Nothing happened to Charles worth relating before his arrival at +Steventon next day; when, the afternoon being fine, he left his +portmanteau to follow him by the omnibus, and put himself upon the road. +If it required some courage to undertake by himself a long journey on an +all-momentous errand, it did not lessen the difficulty that that journey +took in its way a place and a person so dear to him as Oxford and +Carlton. + +He had passed through Bagley Wood, and the spires and towers of the +University came on his view, hallowed by how many tender associations, +lost to him for two whole years, suddenly recovered--recovered to be +lost for ever! There lay old Oxford before him, with its hills as gentle +and its meadows as green as ever. At the first view of that beloved +place he stood still with folded arms, unable to proceed. Each college, +each church--he counted them by their pinnacles and turrets. The silver +Isis, the grey willows, the far-stretching plains, the dark groves, the +distant range of Shotover, the pleasant village where he had lived with +Carlton and Sheffield--wood, water, stone, all so calm, so bright, they +might have been his, but his they were not. Whatever he was to gain by +becoming a Catholic, this he had lost; whatever he was to gain higher +and better, at least this and such as this he never could have again. He +could not have another Oxford, he could not have the friends of his +boyhood and youth in the choice of his manhood. He mounted the +well-known gate on the left, and proceeded down into the plain. There +was no one to greet him, to sympathize with him; there was no one to +believe he needed sympathy; no one to believe he had given up anything; +no one to take interest in him, to feel tender towards him, to defend +him. He had suffered much, but there was no one to believe that he had +suffered. He would be thought to be inflicting merely, not undergoing, +suffering. He might indeed say that he had suffered; but he would be +rudely told that every one follows his own will, and that if he had +given up Oxford, it was for a whim which he liked better than it. But +rather, there was no one to know him; he had been virtually three years +away; three years is a generation; Oxford had been his place once, but +his place knew him no more. He recollected with what awe and transport +he had at first come to the University, as to some sacred shrine; and +how from time to time hopes had come over him that some day or other he +should have gained a title to residence on one of its ancient +foundations. One night in particular came across his memory, how a +friend and he had ascended to the top of one of its many towers with the +purpose of making observations on the stars; and how, while his friend +was busily engaged with the pointers, he, earthly-minded youth, had +been looking down into the deep, gas-lit, dark-shadowed quadrangles, +and wondering if he should ever be Fellow of this or that College, which +he singled out from the mass of academical buildings. All had passed as +a dream, and he was a stranger where he had hoped to have had a home. + +He was drawing near Oxford; he saw along the road before him brisk +youths pass, two and two, with elastic tread, finishing their modest +daily walk, and nearing the city. What had been a tandem a mile back, +next crossed his field of view, shorn of its leader. Presently a stately +cap and gown loomed in the distance; he had gained the road before their +owner crossed him; it was a college-tutor whom he had known a little. +Charles expected to be recognized; but the resident passed by with that +half-conscious, uncertain gaze which seemed to have some memory of a +face which yet was strange. He had passed Folly Bridge; troops of +horsemen overtook him, talking loud, while with easy jaunty pace they +turned into their respective stables. He crossed to Christ Church, and +penetrated to Peckwater. The evening was still bright, and the gas was +lighting. Groups of young men were stationed here and there, the greater +number in hats, a few in caps, one or two with gowns in addition; some +were hallooing up to their companions at the windows of the second +story; scouts were carrying about _ĉger_ dinners; pastry-cook boys were +bringing in desserts; shabby fellows with Blenheim puppies were +loitering under Canterbury Gate. Many stared, but no one knew him. He +hurried up Oriel Lane; suddenly a start and a low bow from a passer-by; +who could it be? it was a superannuated shoeblack of his college, to +whom he had sometimes given a stray shilling. He gained the High Street, +and turned down towards the Angel. What was approaching? the vision of a +proctor. Charles felt some instinctive quiverings; but it passed by him, +and did no harm. Like Kehama, he had a charmed life. And now he had +reached his inn, where he found his portmanteau all ready for him. He +chose a bedroom, and, after fully inducting himself into it, turned his +thoughts towards dinner. + +He wished to lose no time, but, if possible, to proceed to London the +following morning. It would be a great point if he could get to his +journey's end so early in the week, that by Sunday, if he was thought +worthy, he might offer up his praises for the mercies vouchsafed to him +in the great and holy communion of the Universal Church. Accordingly he +determined to make an attempt on Carlton that evening; and hoped, if he +went to his room between seven and eight, to find him returned from +Common-Room. With this intention he sallied out at about the half-hour, +gained Carlton's College, knocked at the gate, entered, passed on, up +the worn wooden steep staircase. The oak was closed; he descended, found +a servant; "Mr. Carlton was giving a dinner in Common-Room; it would +soon be over." Charles determined to wait for him. + +The servant lighted candles in the inner room, and Charles sat down at +the fire. For awhile he sat in reflection; then he looked about for +something to occupy him. His eye caught an Oxford paper; it was but a +few days old. "Let us see how the old place goes on," he said to +himself, as he took it up. He glanced from one article to another, +looking who were the University-preachers of the week, who had taken +degrees, who were public examiners, etc., etc., when his eye was +arrested by the following paragraph:-- + +"DEFECTION FROM THE CHURCH.--We understand that another victim has +lately been added to the list of those whom the venom of Tractarian +principles has precipitated into the bosom of the Sorceress of Rome. Mr. +Reding, of St. Saviour's, the son of a respectable clergyman of the +Establishment, deceased, after eating the bread of the Church all his +life, has at length avowed himself the subject and slave of an Italian +Bishop. Disappointment in the schools is said to have been the +determining cause of this infatuated act. It is reported that legal +measures are in progress for directing the penalties of the Statute of +Prĉmunire against all the seceders; and a proposition is on foot for +petitioning her Majesty to assign the sum thereby realized by the +Government to the erection of a 'Martyrs' Memorial' in the sister +University." + +"So," thought Charles, "the world, as usual, is beforehand with me;" and +he sat speculating about the origin of the report till he almost forgot +that he was waiting for Carlton. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +While Charles was learning in Carlton's rooms the interest which the +world took in his position and acts, he was actually furnishing a topic +of conversation to that portion of it who were Carlton's guests in the +neighbouring Common-Room. Tea and coffee had made their appearance, the +men had risen from table, and were crowding round the fire. + +"Who is that Mr. Reding spoken of in the _Gazette_ of last week?" said a +prim little man, sipping his tea with his spoon, and rising on his toes +as he spoke. + +"You need not go far for an answer," said his neighbour, and, turning to +their host, added, "Carlton, who is Mr. Reding?" + +"A very dear honest fellow," answered Carlton: "I wish we were all of us +as good. He read with me one Long Vacation, is a good scholar, and ought +to have gained his class. I have not heard of him for some time." + +"He has other friends in the room," said another: "I think," turning to +a young Fellow of Leicester, "_you_, Sheffield, were at one time +intimate with Reding?" + +"Yes," answered Sheffield; "and Vincent, of course, knows him too; he's +a capital fellow; I know him exceedingly well; what the _Gazette_ says +about him is shameful. I never met a man who cared less about success in +the schools; it was quite his _fault_." + +"That's about the truth," said another; "I met Mr. Malcolm yesterday at +dinner, and it seems he knows the family. He said that his religious +notions carried Reding away, and spoiled his reading." + +The conversation was not general; it went on in detached groups, as the +guests stood together. Nor was the subject a popular one; rather it was +either a painful or a disgusting subject to the whole party, two or +three curious and hard minds excepted, to whom opposition to Catholicism +was meat and drink. Besides, in such chance collections of men, no one +knew exactly his neighbour's opinion about it; and, as in this instance, +there were often friends of the accused or calumniated present. And, +moreover, there was a generous feeling, and a consciousness how much +seceders from the Anglican Church were giving up, which kept down any +disrespectful mention of them. + +"Are you to do much in the schools this term?" said one to another. + +"I don't know: we have two men going up, good scholars." + +"Who has come into Stretton's place?" + +"Jackson, of King's." + +"Jackson? indeed; he's strong in science, I think." + +"Very." + +"Our men know their books well, but I should not say that science is +their line." + +"Leicester sends four." + +"It will be a large class-list, from what I hear." + +"Ah! indeed! the Michaelmas paper is always a good one." + +Meanwhile the conversation was in another quarter dwelling upon poor +Charles. + +"No, depend upon it, there's more in what the _Gazette_ says than you +think. Disappointment is generally at the bottom of these changes." + +"Poor devils! they can't help it," said another, in a low voice, to his +neighbour. + +"A good riddance, anyhow," said the party addressed; "we shall have a +little peace at last." + +"Well," said the first of the two, drawing himself up and speaking in +the air, "how any educated man should--" his voice was overpowered by +the grave enunciation of a small man behind them, who had hitherto kept +silence, and now spoke with positiveness. + +He addressed himself, between the two heads which had just been talking +in private, to the group beyond them. "It's all the effect of +rationalism," he said; "the whole movement is rationalistic. At the end +of three years all those persons who have now apostatized will be +infidels." + +No one responded; at length another of the party came up to Mr. +Malcolm's acquaintance, and said, slowly, "I suppose you never heard it +hinted that there is something wrong _here_ in Mr. Reding," touching his +forehead significantly; "I have been told it's in the family." + +He was answered by a deep, powerful voice, belonging to a person who +sat in the corner; it sounded like "the great bell of Bow," as if it +ought to have closed the conversation. It said abruptly, "I respect him +uncommonly; I have an extreme respect for him. He's an honest man; I +wish others were as honest. If they were, then, as the Puseyites are +becoming Catholics, so we should see old Brownside and his clique +becoming Unitarians. But they mean to stick in." + +Most persons present felt the truth of his remark, and a silence +followed it for a while. It was broken by a clear cackling voice: "Did +you ever hear," said he, nodding his head, or rather his whole person, +as he spoke, "did you ever, Sheffield, happen to hear that this +gentleman, your friend Mr. Reding, when he was quite a freshman, had a +conversation with some _attaché_ of the Popish Chapel in this place, at +the very door of it, after the men were gone down?" + +"Impossible, Fusby," said Carlton, and laughed. + +"It's quite true," returned Fusby; "I had it from the Under-Marshal, who +was passing at the moment. My eye has been on Mr. Reding for some +years." + +"So it seems," said Sheffield, "for that must have been at least, let me +see, four or five years ago." + +"Oh," continued Fusby, "there are two or three more yet to come; you +will see." + +"Why, Fusby," said Vincent, overhearing and coming up, "you are like the +three old crones in the Bride of Lammermoor, who wished to have the +straiking of the Master of Ravenswood." + +Fusby nodded his person, but made no answer. + +"Not all three at once, I hope," said Sheffield. + +"Oh, it's quite a concentration, a quintessence of Protestant feeling," +answered Vincent; "I consider _myself_ a good Protestant; but the +pleasure you have in hunting these men is quite sensual, Fusby." + +The Common-Room man here entered, and whispered to Carlton that a +stranger was waiting for him in his rooms. + +"When do your men come up?" said Sheffield to Vincent. + +"Next Saturday," answered Vincent. + +"They always come up late," said Sheffield. + +"Yes, the House met last week." + +"St. Michael's has met too," said Sheffield: "so have we." + +"We have a reason for meeting late: many of our men come from the North +and from Ireland." + +"That's no reason, with railroads." + +"I see they have begun our rail," said Vincent; "I thought the +University had opposed it." + +"The Pope in his own states has given in," said Sheffield, "so we may +well do the same." + +"Don't talk of the Pope," said Vincent, "I'm sick of the Pope." + +"The Pope?" said Fusby, overhearing; "have you heard that his Holiness +is coming to England?" + +"Oh, oh," cried Vincent, "come, I can't stand this. I must go; good +night t'you, Carlton. Where's my gown?" + +"I believe the Common-Room man has hung it up in the passage;--but you +should stop and protect me from Fusby." + +Neither did Vincent turn to the rescue, nor did Fusby profit by the +hint; so poor Carlton, with the knowledge that he was wanted in his +rooms, had to stay a good half-hour _tête-à-tête_ with the latter, while +he prosed to him _in extenso_ about Pope Sixtus XIV., the Jesuits, +suspected men in the University, Mede on the Apostasy, the Catholic +Relief Bill, Dr. Pusey's Tract on Baptism, Justification, and the +appointment of the Taylor Professors. + +At length, however, Carlton was released. He ran across the quadrangle +and up his staircase; flung open his door, and made his way to his inner +room. A person was just rising to meet him; impossible! but it was +though. "What? Reding!" he cried; "who would have thought! what a +pleasure! we were just-- ... What brings you here?" he added, in an +altered tone. Then gravely, "Reding, where are you?" + +"Not yet a Catholic," said Reding. + +There was a silence; the answer conveyed a good deal: it was a relief, +but it was an intimation. "Sit down, my dear Reding; will you have +anything? have you dined? What a pleasure to see you, old fellow! Are we +really to lose you?" They were soon in conversation on the great +subject. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"If you have made up your mind, Reding," said Carlton, "it's no good +talking. May you be happy wherever you are! You must always be yourself; +as a Romanist, you will still be Charles Reding." + +"I know I have a kind, sympathizing friend in you, Carlton. You have +always listened to me, never snubbed me except when I deserved it. You +know more about me than any one else. Campbell is a dear, good fellow, +and will soon be dearer to me still. It isn't generally known yet, but +he is to marry my sister. He has borne with me now for two years; never +been hard upon me; always been at my service when I wanted to talk with +him. But no one makes me open my heart as you do, Carlton; you sometimes +have differed from me, but you have always understood me." + +"Thank you for your kind words," answered Carlton; "but to me it is a +perfect mystery why you should leave us. I enter into your reasons: I +cannot, for the life of me, see how you come to your conclusion." + +"To me, on the other hand, Carlton, it is like two and two make four; +and you make two and two five, and are astonished that I won't agree +with you." + +"We must leave these things to a higher power," said Carlton. "I hope we +sha'n't be less friends, Reding, when you are in another communion. We +know each other; these outward things cannot change us." + +Reding sighed; he saw clearly that his change of religion, when +completed, would not fail to have an effect on Carlton's thoughts about +him, as on those of others. It could not possibly be otherwise; he was +sure himself to feel different about Carlton. + +After a while, Carlton said gently, "Is it quite impossible, Reding, +that now at the eleventh hour we may retain you? what _are_ your +grounds?" + +"Don't let us argue, dear Carlton," answered Reding; "I have done with +argument. Or, if I must say something for manners' sake, I will but tell +you that I have fulfilled your request. You bade me read the Anglican +divines; I have given a great deal of time to them, and I am embracing +that creed which alone is the scope to which they converge in their +separate teachings; the creed which upholds the divinity of tradition +with Laud, consent of Fathers with Beveridge, a visible Church with +Bramhall, dogma with Bull, the authority of the Pope with Thorndike, +penance with Taylor, prayers for the dead with Ussher, celibacy, +asceticism, ecclesiastical discipline with Bingham. I am going to a +Church, which in these, and a multitude of other points, is nearer the +Apostolic Church than any existing one; which is the continuation of the +Apostolic Church, if it has been continued at all. And _seeing_ it to be +_like_ the Apostolic Church, I _believe_ it to be the _same_. Reason has +gone first, faith is to follow." + +He stopped, and Carlton did not reply; a silence ensued, and Charles at +length broke it. "I repeat, it's no use arguing; I have made up my mind, +and been very slow about it. I have broken it to my mother, and bade her +farewell. All is determined; I cannot go back." + +"Is that a nice feeling?" said Carlton, half reproachfully. + +"Understand me," answered Reding; "I have come to my resolution with +great deliberation. It has remained on my mind as a mere intellectual +conclusion for a year or two; surely now at length without blame I may +change it into a practical resolve. But none of us can answer that those +habitual and ruling convictions, on which it is our duty to act, will +remain before our consciousness every moment, when we come into the +hurry of the world, and are assailed by inducements and motives of +various kinds. Therefore I say that the time of argument is past; I act +on a conclusion already drawn." + +"But how do you know," asked Carlton, "but what you have been +unconsciously biassed in arriving at it? one notion has possessed you, +and you have not been able to shake it off. The ability to retain your +convictions in the bustle of life is to my mind the very test, the +necessary test of their reality." + +"I do, I do retain them," answered Reding; "they are always upon me." + +"Only at times, as you have yourself confessed," objected Carlton: +"surely you ought to have a very strong conviction indeed, to set +against the mischief you are doing by a step of this kind. Consider how +many persons you are unsettling; what a triumph you are giving to the +enemies of all religion; what encouragement to the notion that there is +no such thing as truth; how you are weakening our Church. Well, all I +say is, that you should have very strong convictions to set against all +this." + +"Well," said Charles, "I grant, I maintain, that the only motive which +is sufficient to justify such an act, is the conviction that one's +salvation depends on it. Now, I speak sincerely, my dear Carlton, in +saying that I don't think I shall be saved if I remain in the English +Church." + +"Do you mean that there is no salvation in our Church?" said Carlton, +rather coldly. + +"I am talking of myself; it's not my place to judge others. I only say, +God calls _me_, and I must follow at the risk of my soul." + +"God '_calls_' you!" said Carlton; "what does that mean? I don't like +it; it's dissenting language." + +"You know it is Scripture language," answered Reding. + +"Yes, but people don't in Scripture _say_ 'I'm called;' the calling was +an act from without, the act of others, not an inward feeling." + +"But, my dear Carlton, how _is_ a person to get at truth, now, when +there can be no simple outward call?" + +"That seems to me a pretty good intimation," answered Carlton, "that we +are to remain where Providence has placed us." + +"Now this is just one of the points on which I can't get at the bottom +of the Church of England's doctrine," Reding replied. "But it's so on so +many other subjects! it's always so. Are members of the Church of +England to seek the truth, or have they it given them from the first? do +they seek it for themselves, or is it ready provided for them?" + +Carlton thought a moment, and seemed doubtful what to answer; then he +said that we must, of course, seek it. It was a part of our moral +probation to seek the truth. + +"Then don't talk to me about our position," said Charles; "I hardly +expected _you_ to make this answer; but it is what the majority of +Church-of-England people say. They tell us to seek, they give us rules +for seeking, they make us exert our private judgment; but directly we +come to any conclusion but theirs, they turn round and talk to us of our +'providential position.' But there's another thing. Tell me, supposing +we ought all to seek the truth, do you think that members of the English +Church do seek it in that way which Scripture enjoins upon all seekers? +Think how very seriously Scripture speaks of the arduousness of finding, +the labour of seeking, the duty of thirsting after the truth? I don't +believe the bulk of the English clergy, the bulk of Oxford residents, +Heads of houses, Fellows of Colleges (with all their good points, which +I am not the man to deny), have ever sought the truth. They have taken +what they found, and have used no private judgment at all. Or if they +have judged, it has been in the vaguest, most cursory way possible; or +they have looked into Scripture only to find proofs for what they were +bound to subscribe, as undergraduates getting up the Articles. Then they +sit over their wine, and talk about this or that friend who has +'seceded,' and condemn him, and" (glancing at the newspaper on the +table) "assign motives for his conduct. Yet, after all, which is the +more likely to be right,--he who has given years, perhaps, to the search +of truth, who has habitually prayed for guidance, and has taken all the +means in his power to secure it, or they, 'the gentlemen of England who +sit at home at ease'? No, no, they may talk of seeking the truth, of +private judgment, as a duty, but they have never sought, they have never +judged; they are where they are, not because it is true, but because +they find themselves there, because it is their 'providential position,' +and a pleasant one into the bargain." + +Reding had got somewhat excited; the paragraph in the newspaper had +annoyed him. But, without taking that into account, there was enough in +the circumstances in which he found himself to throw him out of his +ordinary state of mind. He was in a crisis of peculiar trial, which a +person must have felt to understand. Few men go to battle in cold blood, +or prepare without agitation for a surgical operation. Carlton, on the +other hand, was a quiet, gentle person, who was not heard to use an +excited word once a year. + +The conversation came to a stand. At length Carlton said, "I hope, dear +Reding, you are not joining the Church of Rome merely because there are +unreasonable, unfeeling persons in the Church of England." + +Charles felt that he was not showing to advantage, and that he was +giving rise to the very surmises about the motives of his conversion +which he was deprecating. + +"It is a sad thing," he said, with something of self-reproach, "to spend +our last minutes in wrangling. Forgive me, Carlton, if I have said +anything too strongly or earnestly." Carlton thought he had; he thought +him in an excited state; but it was no use telling him so; so he merely +pressed his offered hand affectionately, and said nothing. + +Presently he said, dryly and abruptly, "Reding, do you know any Roman +Catholics?" + +"No," answered Reding; "Willis indeed, but I hav'n't seen even him these +two years. It has been entirely the working of my own mind." + +Carlton did not answer at once; then he said, as dryly and abruptly as +before, "I suspect, then, you will have much to bear with when you know +them." + +"What do you mean?" asked Reding. + +"You will find them under-educated men, I suspect." + +"What do _you_ know of them?" said Reding. + +"I suspect it," answered Carlton. + +"But what's that to the purpose?" asked Charles. + +"It's a thing you should think of. An English clergyman is a gentleman; +you may have more to bear than you reckon for, when you find yourself +with men of rude minds and vulgar manners." + +"My dear Carlton, a'n't you talking of what you know nothing at all +about?" + +"Well, but you should think of it, you should contemplate it," said +Carlton; "I judge from their letters and speeches which one reads in the +papers." + +Charles thought awhile; then he said, "Certainly, I don't like many +things which are done and said by Roman Catholics just now; but I don't +see how all this can be more than a trial and a cross; I don't see how +it affects the great question." + +"No, except that you may find yourself a fish out of water," answered +Carlton; "you may find yourself in a position where you can act with no +one, where you will be quite thrown away." + +"Well," said Charles, "as to the fact, I know nothing about it; it may +be as you say, but I don't think much of your proof. In all communities +the worst is on the outside. What offends me in Catholic public +proceedings need be no measure, nay, I believe cannot be a measure, of +the inward Catholic mind. I would not judge the Anglican Church by +Exeter Hall, nay, not by Episcopal Charges. We see the interior of our +own Church, the exterior of the Church of Rome. This is not a fair +comparison." + +"But look at their books of devotion," insisted Carlton; "they can't +write English." + +Reding smiled at Carlton, and slowly shook his head to and fro, while he +said, "They write English, I suppose, as classically as St. John writes +Greek." + +Here again the conversation halted, and nothing was heard for a while +but the simmering of the kettle. + +There was no good in disputing, as might be seen from the first; each +had his own view, and that was the beginning and the end of the matter. +Charles stood up. "Well, dearest Carlton," he said, "we must part; it +must be going on for eleven." He pulled out of his pocket a small +"Christian Year." "You have often seen me with this," he continued, +"accept it in memory of me. You will not see me, but here is a pledge +that I will not forget you, that I will ever remember you." He stopped, +much affected. "Oh, it is very hard to leave you all, to go to +strangers," he went on; "I do not wish it, but I cannot help it; I am +called, I am compelled." He stopped again; the tears flowed down his +cheeks. "All is well," he said, recovering himself, "all is well; but +it's hard at the time, and scarcely any one to feel for me; black looks, +bitter words.... I am pleasing myself, following my own will ... +well...." and he began looking at his fingers and slowly rubbing his +palms one on another. "It must be," he whispered to himself, "through +tribulation to the kingdom, sowing in tears, reaping in joy...." Another +pause, and a new train of thought came over him; "Oh," he said, "I fear +so very much, so very much, that all you who do not come forward will go +back. You cannot stand where you are; for a time you will think you do, +then you will oppose us, and still think you keep your ground while you +use the same words as before; but your belief, your opinions will +decline. You will hold less. And then, in time, it will strike you that, +in differing with Protestants, you are contending only about words. They +call us Rationalists; take care you don't fall into Liberalism. And now, +my dearest Carlton, my one friend in Oxford who was patient and loving +towards me, good-bye. May we meet not long hence in peace and joy. I +cannot go to you; you must come to me." + +They embraced each other affectionately; and the next minute Charles was +running down the staircase. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Charles went to bed with a bad headache, and woke with a worse. Nothing +remained but to order his bill and be off for London. Yet he could not +go without taking a last farewell of the place itself. He was up soon +after seven; and while the gownsmen were rising and in their respective +chapels, he had been round Magdalen Walk and Christ Church Meadow. There +were few or none to see him wherever he went. The trees of the Water +Walk were variegated, as beseemed the time of year, with a thousand +hues, arching over his head, and screening his side. He reached +Addison's Walk; there he had been for the first time with his father, +when he was coming into residence, just six years before to a day. He +pursued it, and onwards still, till he came round in sight of the +beautiful tower, which at length rose close over his head. The morning +was frosty, and there was a mist; the leaves flitted about; all was in +unison with the state of his feelings. He re-entered the monastic +buildings, meeting with nothing but scouts with boxes of cinders, and +old women carrying off the remains of the kitchen. He crossed to the +Meadow, and walked steadily down to the junction of the Cherwell with +the Isis; he then turned back. What thoughts came upon him! for the last +time! There was no one to see him; he threw his arms round the willows +so dear to him, and kissed them; he tore off some of their black leaves +and put them in his bosom. "I am like Undine," he said, "killing with a +kiss. No one cares for me; scarce a person knows me." He neared the Long +Walk again. Suddenly, looking obliquely into it, he saw a cap and gown; +he looked anxiously; it was Jennings: there was no mistake; and his +direction was towards him. Charles always had felt kindly towards him, +in spite of his sternness, but he would not meet him for the world; what +was he to do? he stood behind a large elm, and let him pass; then he set +off again at a quick pace. When he had got some way, he ventured to turn +his head round; and he saw Jennings at the moment, by that sort of +fatality or sympathy which is so common, turning round towards him. He +hurried on, and soon found himself again at his inn. + +Strange as it may seem, though he had on the whole had as good success +as Carlton in the "keen encounter of their wits" the night before, it +had left an unsatisfactory effect on his mind. The time for action was +come; argument was past, as he had himself said; and to recur to +argument was only to confuse the clearness of his apprehension of the +truth. He began to question whether he really had evidence enough for +the step he was taking, and the temptation assailed him that he was +giving up this world without gaining the next. Carlton evidently thought +him excited; what if it were true? Perhaps his convictions were, after +all, a dream; what did they rest upon? He tried to recall his best +arguments, and could not. Was there, after all, any such thing as truth? +Was not one thing as good as another? At all events, could he not have +served God well in his generation, where he had been placed? He +recollected some lines in the Ethics of Aristotle, quoted by the +philosopher from an old poet, in which the poor outcast Philoctetes +laments over his own stupid officiousness, as he calls it, which had +been the cause of his misfortunes. Was he not a busybody too? Why could +he not let well alone? Better men than he had lived and died in the +English Church. And then what if, as Campbell had said, all his +so-called convictions were to vanish just as he entered the Roman pale, +as they had done on his father's death? He began to envy Sheffield; all +had turned out well with him--a good class, a fellowship, merely or +principally because he had taken things as they came, and not gone +roaming after visions. He felt himself violently assaulted; but he was +not deserted, not overpowered. His good sense, rather his good Angel, +came to his aid; evidently he was in no way able to argue or judge at +that moment; the deliberate conclusions of years ought not to be set +aside by the troubled thoughts of an hour. With an effort he put the +whole subject from him, and addressed himself to his journey. + +How he got to Steventon he hardly recollected; but gradually he came to +himself, and found himself in a first-class of the Great Western, +proceeding rapidly towards London. He then looked about him to +ascertain who his fellow-travellers were. The farther compartment was +full of passengers, who seemed to form one party, talking together with +great volubility and glee. Of the three seats in his own part of the +carriage, one only, that opposite to him, was filled. On taking a survey +of the stranger, he saw a grave person passing or past the middle age; +his face had that worn, or rather that unplacid appearance, which even +slight physical suffering, if habitual, gives to the features, and his +eyes were pale from study or other cause. Charles thought he had seen +his face before, but he could not recollect where or when. But what most +interested him was his dress and appearance, which was such as is rarely +found in a travelling-companion. It was of an unusual character, and, +taken together with the small office-book he held in his hand, plainly +showed Charles that he was opposite a Roman ecclesiastic. His heart +beat, and he felt tempted to start from his seat; then a sick feeling +and a sinking came over him. He gradually grew calmer, and journeyed on +some time in silence, longing yet afraid to speak. At length, on the +train stopping at the station, he addressed a few words to him in +French. His companion looked surprised, smiled, and in a hesitating, +saddish voice said that he was an Englishman. Charles made an awkward +apology, and there was silence again. Their eyes sometimes met, and then +moved slowly off each other, as if a mutual reconnoitring was in +progress. At length it seemed to strike the stranger that he had +abruptly stopped the conversation; and, after apparently beating about +for an introductory topic, he said, "Perhaps I can read you, sir, better +than you can me. You are an Oxford man by your appearance." + +Charles assented. + +"A bachelor?" He was of near Master's standing. His companion, who did +not seem in a humour for talking, proceeded to various questions about +the University, as if out of civility. What colleges sent Proctors that +year? Were the Taylor Professors appointed? Were they members of the +Church of England? Did the new Bishop of Bury keep his Headship? &c., +&c. Some matter-of-fact conversation followed, which came to nothing. +Charles had so much to ask; his thoughts were busy, and his mind full. +Here was a Catholic priest ready for his necessities; yet the +opportunity was likely to pass away, and nothing to come of it. After +one or two fruitless efforts, he gave it up, and leant back in his seat. +His fellow-traveller began, as quietly as he could, to say office. Time +went forward, the steam was let off and put on; the train stopped and +proceeded, and the office was apparently finished; the book vanished in +a side-pocket. + +After a time Charles suddenly said, "How came you to suppose I was of +Oxford?" + +"Not _entirely_ by your look and manner, for I saw you jump from the +omnibus at Steventon; but with that assistance it was impossible to +mistake." + +"I have heard others say the same," said Charles; "yet I can't myself +make out how an Oxford man should be known from another." + +"Not only Oxford men, but Cambridge men, are known by their appearance; +soldiers, lawyers, beneficed clergymen; indeed every class has its +external indications to those who can read them." + +"I know persons," said Charles, "who believe that handwriting is an +indication of calling and character." + +"I do not doubt it," replied the priest; "the gait is another; but it is +not all of us who can read so recondite a language. Yet a language it +is, as really as hieroglyphics on an obelisk." + +"It is a fearful thought," said Charles with a sigh, "that we, as it +were, exhale ourselves every breath we draw." + +The stranger assented; "A man's moral self," he said, "is concentrated +in each moment of his life; it lives in the tips of his fingers, and the +spring of his insteps. A very little thing tries what a man is made of." + +"I think I must be speaking to a Catholic priest?" said Charles: when +his question was answered in the affirmative, he went on hesitatingly to +ask if what they had been speaking of did not illustrate the importance +of faith? "One did not see at first sight," he said, "how it was +rational to maintain that so much depended on holding this or that +doctrine, or a little more or a little less, but it might be a test of +the heart." + +His companion looked pleased; however, he observed, that "there was no +'more or less' in faith; that either we believed the whole revealed +message, or really we believed no part of it; that we ought to believe +what the Church proposed to us on the _word_ of the Church." + +"Yet surely the so-called Evangelical believes more than the Unitarian, +and the High-Churchman than the Evangelical," objected Charles. + +"The question," said his fellow-traveller, "is, whether they submit +their reason implicitly to that which they have received as God's word." + +Charles assented. + +"Would you say, then," he continued, "that the Unitarian really believes +as God's word that which he professes to receive, when he passes over +and gets rid of so much that is in that word?" + +"Certainly not," said Charles. + +"And why?" + +"Because it is plain," said Charles, "that his ultimate standard of +truth is not the Scripture, but, unconsciously to himself, some view of +things in his mind which is to him the measure of Scripture." + +"Then he believes himself, if we may so speak," said the priest, "and +not the external word of God." + +"Certainly." + +"Well, in like manner," he continued, "do you think a person can have +real faith in that which he admits to be the word of God, who passes by, +without attempting to understand, such passages as 'the Church the +pillar and ground of the truth;' or, 'whosesoever sins ye forgive, they +are forgiven;' or, 'if any man is sick, let him call for the priests of +the Church, and let them anoint him with oil'?" + +"No," said Charles; "but, in fact, _we_ do not profess to have faith in +the mere text of Scripture. You know, sir," he added hesitatingly, "that +the Anglican doctrine is to interpret Scripture by the Church; therefore +we have faith, like Catholics, not in Scripture simply, but in the whole +word committed to the Church, of which Scripture is a part." + +His companion smiled: "How many," he asked, "so profess? But, waiving +this question, I understand what a Catholic means by saying that he goes +by the voice of the Church; it means, practically, by the voice of the +first priest he meets. Every priest is the voice of the Church. This is +quite intelligible. In matters of doctrine, he has faith in the word of +any priest. But what, where, is that 'word' of the Church which the +persons you speak of believe in? and when do they exercise their belief? +Is it not an undeniable fact, that, so far from all Anglican clergymen +agreeing together in faith, what the first says, the second will unsay? +so that an Anglican cannot, if he would, have faith in them, and +necessarily, though he would not, chooses between them. How, then, has +faith a place in the religion of an Anglican?" + +"Well," said Charles, "I am sure I know a good many persons--and if you +knew the Church of England as I do, you would not need me to tell +you--who, from knowledge of the Gospels, have an absolute conviction and +an intimate sense of the reality of the sacred facts contained in them, +which, whether you call it faith or not, is powerful enough to colour +their whole being with its influence, and rules their heart and conduct +as well as their imagination. I can't believe that these persons are +out of God's favour; yet, according to your account of the matter, they +have not faith." + +"Do you think these persons believe and practise all that is brought +home to them as being in Scripture?" asked his companion. + +"Certainly they do," answered Charles, "as far as man can judge." + +"Then perhaps they may be practising the virtue of faith; if there are +passages in it to which they are insensible, as about the sacraments, +penance, and extreme unction, or about the See of Peter, I should in +charity think that these passages had never been brought home or applied +to their minds and consciences--just as a Pope's Bull may be for a time +unknown in a distant part of the Church. They may be[1] in involuntary +ignorance. Yet I fear that, taking the whole nation, there are few who +on this score can lay claim to faith." + + [1] "Errantes invincibiliter circa aliquos articulos, et + credentes alios, non sunt formaliter hĉretici, sed habent fidem + supernaturalem, quâ credunt veros articulos, atque adeo ex eâ + possunt procedere actus perfectĉ contritionis, quibus justificentur + et salventur."--_De Lugo de Fid._, p. 169. + +Charles said this did not fully meet the difficulty; faith, in the case +of these persons, at least was not faith in the word of the Church. His +companion would not allow this; he said they received the Scripture on +the testimony of the Church, that at least they were believing the word +of God, and the like. + +Presently Charles said, "It is to me a great mystery how the English +people, as a whole, is ever to have faith again; is there evidence +enough for faith?" + +His new friend looked surprised and not over-pleased; "Surely," he said, +"in matter of fact, a man may have more _evidence_ for believing the +Church to be the messenger of God, than he has for believing the four +Gospels to be from God. If, then, he already believes the latter, why +should he not believe the former?" + +"But the belief in the Gospels is a traditional belief," said Charles; +"that makes all the difference. I cannot see how a nation like England, +which has lost the faith, ever can recover it. Hence, in the matter of +conversion, Providence has generally visited simple and barbarous +nations." + +"The converts of the Roman Empire were, I suppose, a considerable +exception," said the priest. + +"Still, it seems to me a great difficulty," answered Charles; "I do not +see, when the dogmatic structure is once broken down, how it is ever to +be built up again. I fancy there is a passage somewhere in Carlyle's +'French Revolution' on the subject, in which the author laments over the +madness of men's destroying what they could not replace, what it would +take centuries and a strange combination of fortunate circumstances to +reproduce, an external received creed. I am not denying, God forbid! the +objectivity of revelation, or saying that faith is a sort of happy and +expedient delusion; but, really, the evidence for revealed doctrine is +so built up on probabilities that I do not see what is to introduce it +into a civilized community, where reason has been cultivated to the +utmost, and argument is the test of truth. Many a man will say, 'Oh, +that I had been educated a Catholic!' but he has not so been; and he +finds himself unable, though wishing, to believe, for he has not +evidence enough to subdue his reason. What is to make him believe?" + +His fellow-traveller had for some time shown signs of uneasiness; when +Charles stopped, he said, shortly, but quietly, "What is to make him +believe! the _will_, his _will_." + +Charles hesitated; he proceeded; "If there is evidence enough to believe +Scripture, and we see that there is, I repeat, there is more than enough +to believe the Church. The evidence is not in fault; all it requires is +to be brought home or applied to the mind; if belief does not then +follow, the fault lies with the will." + +"Well," said Charles, "I think there is a general feeling among educated +Anglicans, that the claims of the Roman Church do not rest on a +sufficiently intellectual basis; that the evidences, or notes, were well +enough for a rude age, not for this. This is what makes me despair of +the growth of Catholicism." + +His companion looked round curiously at him, and then said, quietly, +"Depend upon it, there is quite evidence enough for a _moral conviction_ +that the Catholic or Roman Church, and none other, is the voice of God." + +"Do you mean," said Charles, with a beating heart, "that before +conversion one can attain to a present abiding actual conviction of this +truth?" + +"I do not know," answered the other; "but, at least, he may have +habitual _moral certainty_; I mean, a conviction, and one only, steady, +without rival conviction, or even reasonable doubt, present to him when +he is most composed and in his hours of solitude, and flashing on him +from time to time, as through clouds, when he is in the world;--a +conviction to this effect, 'The Roman Catholic Church is the one only +voice of God, the one only way of salvation.'" + +"Then you mean to say," said Charles, while his heart beat faster, "that +such a person is under no duty to wait for clearer light." + +"He will not have, he cannot expect, clearer light before conversion. +Certainty, in its highest sense, is the reward of those who, by an act +of the will, and at the dictate of reason and prudence, embrace the +truth, when nature, like a coward, shrinks. You must make a venture; +faith is a venture before a man is a Catholic; it is a gift after it. +You approach the Church in the way of reason, you enter into it in the +light of the Spirit." + +Charles said that he feared there was a great temptation operating on +many well-informed and excellent men, to find fault with the evidence +for Catholicity, and to give over the search, on the excuse that there +were arguments on both sides. + +"It is not one set of men," answered his companion; "it is the grievous +deficiency in Englishmen altogether. Englishmen have many gifts, faith +they have not. Other nations, inferior to them in many things, still +have faith. Nothing will stand in place of it; not a sense of the beauty +of Catholicism, or of its awfulness, or of its antiquity; not an +appreciation of the sympathy which it shows towards sinners: not an +admiration of the Martyrs and early Fathers, and a delight in their +writings. Individuals may display a touching gentleness, or a +conscientiousness which demands our reverence; still, till they have +faith, they have not the foundation, and their superstructure will fall. +They will not be blessed, they will effect nothing in religious matters, +till they begin by an act of unreserved faith in the word of God, +whatever it be; till they go out of themselves; till they cease to make +something within them their standard, till they oblige their will to +perfect what reason leaves sufficient, indeed, but incomplete. And when +they shall recognize this defect in themselves, and try to remedy it, +then they will recognize much more;--they will be on the road very +shortly to be Catholics." + +There was nothing in all this exactly new to Reding; but it was pleasant +to hear it from the voice of another, and him a priest. Thus he had +sympathy and authority, and felt he was restored to himself. The +conversation stopped. After a while he disclosed to his new friend the +place for which he was bound, which, after what Charles had already been +saying, could be no great surprise to him. The latter knew the Superior +of San Michaele, and, taking out a card, wrote upon it a few words of +introduction for him. By this time they had reached Paddington; and +scarcely had the train stopped, when the priest took his small +carpet-bag from under his seat, wrapped his cloak around him, stepped +out of the carriage, and was walking out of sight at a brisk pace. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Reding naturally wished to take the important step he was meditating as +quietly as he could; and had adopted what he considered satisfactory +measures for this purpose. But such arrangements often turn out very +differently from their promise; and so it was in his case. + +The Passionist House was in the eastern part of London; so far +well;--and as he knew in the neighbourhood a respectable publisher in +the religious line, with whom his father had dealt, he had written to +him to bespeak a room in his house for the few days which he trusted +would suffice for the process of his reception. What was to happen to +him after it, he left for the advice he might get from those in whose +hands he found himself. It was now Wednesday; he hoped to have two days +to prepare himself for his confession, and then he proposed to present +himself before those who were to receive it. His better plan would have +been to have gone to the Religious House at once, where doubtless the +good fathers would have lodged him, secured him from intrusion, and +given him the best advice how to proceed. But we must indulge him, if, +doing so great a work, he likes to do it in his own way; nor must we be +hard on him, though it be not the best way. + +On arriving at his destination, he saw in the deportment of his host +grounds for concluding that his coming was not only expected, but +understood. Doubtless, then, the paragraph of the _Oxford Gazette_ had +been copied into the London papers; nor did it relieve his unpleasant +surprise to find, as he passed to his room, that the worthy bibliopolist +had a reading-room attached to his shop, which was far more perilous to +his privacy than a coffee-room would have been. He was not obliged, +however, to mix with the various parties who seemed to frequent it; and +he determined as far as possible to confine himself to his apartment. +The rest of the day he employed in writing letters to friends: his +conversation of the morning had tranquillized him; he went to bed +peaceful and happy, slept soundly, rose late, and, refreshed in mind and +body, turned his thoughts to the serious duties of the day. + +Breakfast over, he gave a considerable time to devotional exercises, and +then, opening his writing-desk, addressed himself to his work. Hardly +had he got into it when his landlord made his appearance; and, with many +apologies for his intrusion, and a hope that he was not going to be +impertinent, proceeded to inquire if Mr. Reding was a Catholic. "The +question had been put to him, and he thought he might venture to solicit +an answer from the person who could give the most authentic +information." Here was an interruption, vexatious in itself, and +perplexing in the form in which it came upon him; it would be absurd to +reply that he was on the point of _becoming_ a Catholic, so he shortly +answered in the negative. Mr. Mumford then informed him that there were +two friends of Mr. Reding's below, who wished very much to have a few +minutes' conversation with him. Charles could make no intelligible +objection to the request; and in the course of a few minutes their knock +was heard at the room-door. + +On his answering it, two persons presented themselves, apparently both +strangers to him. This, however, at the moment was a relief; for vague +fears and surmises had begun to flit across his mind as to the faces +which were to make their appearance. The younger of the two, who had +round full cheeks, with a boyish air, and a shrill voice, advanced +confidently, and seemed to expect a recognition. It broke upon Charles +that he had seen him before, but he could not tell where. "I ought to +know your face," he said. + +"Yes, Mr. Reding," answered the person addressed, "you may recollect me +at College." + +"Ah, I remember perfectly," said Reding; "Jack the kitchen-boy at St. +Saviour's." + +"Yes," said Jack; "I came when young Tom was promoted into Dennis's +place." + +Then he added, with a solemn shake of the head, "_I_ have got promotion +now." + +"So it seems, Jack," answered Reding; "but what are you? Speak." + +"Ah, sir," said Jack, "we must converse in a tone of befitting +seriousness;" and he added, in a deep inarticulate voice, his lips not +being suffered to meet together, "Sir, I stand next to an Angel now." + +"A what? Angel? Oh, I know," cried Charles, "it's some sect; the +Sandemanians." + +"Sandemanians!" interrupted Jack; "we hold them in abhorrence; they are +levellers; they bring in disorder and every evil work." + +"I beg pardon, but I know it is some sect, though I don't recollect +what. I've heard about it. Well, tell me, Jack, what are you?" + +"I am," answered Jack, as if he were confessing at the tribunal of a +Proprĉtor, "I am a member of the Holy Catholic Church." + +"That's right, Jack," said Reding; "but it's not distinctive enough; so +are we all; every one will say as much." + +"Hear me out, Mr. Reding, sir," answered Jack, waving his hand; "hear +me, but strike; I repeat, I am a member of the Holy Catholic Church, +assembling in Huggermugger Lane." + +"Ah," said Charles, "I see; that's what the 'gods' call you; now, what +do men?" + +"Men," said Jack, not understanding, however, the allusion--"men call us +Christians, professing the opinions of the late Rev. Edward Irving, +B.D." + +"I understand perfectly now," said Reding; "Irvingites--I recollect." + +"No, sir," he said, "not Irvingites; we do not follow man; we follow +wherever the Spirit leads us; we have given up Tongue. But I ought to +introduce you to my friend, who is more than an Angel," he proceeded +modestly, "who has more than the tongue of men and angels, being nothing +short of an Apostle, sir. Mr. Reding, here's the Rev. Alexander +Highfly. Mr. Highfly, this is Mr. Reding." + +Mr. Highfly was a man of gentlemanlike appearance and manner; his +language was refined, and his conduct was delicate; so much so that +Charles at once changed his tone in speaking to him. He came to Mr. +Reding, he said, from a sense of duty; and there was nothing in his +conversation to clash with that profession. He explained that he had +heard of Mr. Reding's being unsettled in his religious views, and he +would not lose the opportunity of attempting so valuable an accession to +the cause to which he had dedicated himself. + +"I see," said Charles, smiling, "I am in the market." + +"It is the bargain of Glaucus with Diomede," answered Mr. Highfly, "for +which I am asking your co-operation. I am giving you the fellowship of +Apostles." + +"It is, I recollect, one of the characteristics of your body," said +Charles, "to have an order of Apostles, in addition to Bishops, Priests, +and Deacons." + +"Rather," said his visitor, "it is the special characteristic; for we +acknowledge the orders of the Church of England. We are but completing +the Church system by restoring the Apostolic College." + +"What I should complain of," said Charles, "were I at all inclined to +listen to your claims, would be the very different views which different +members of your body put forward." + +"You must recollect, sir," answered Mr. Highfly, "that we are under +Divine teaching, and that truth is but gradually communicated to the +Church. We do not pledge ourselves what we shall believe to-morrow by +anything we say to-day." + +"Certainly," answered Reding, "things have been said to me by your +teachers which I must suppose were only private opinions, though they +seemed to be more." + +"But I was saying," said Mr. Highfly, "that at present we are restoring +the Gentile Apostolate. The Church of England has Bishops, Priests, and +Deacons, but a Scriptural Church has more; it is plain it ought to have +Apostles. In Scripture Apostles had the supreme authority, and the three +Anglican orders were but subordinate to them." + +"I am disposed to agree with you there," said Charles. Mr. Highfly +looked surprised and pleased. "We are restoring," he said, "the Church +to a more Scriptural state; perhaps, then, we may reckon on your +co-operation in doing so? We do not ask you to secede from the +Establishment, but to acknowledge the Apostolic authority to which all +ought to submit." + +"But does it not strike you, Mr. Highfly," answered Reding, "that there +_is_ a body of Christians, and not an inconsiderable one, which +maintains with you, and, what is more, has always preserved, that true +and higher Apostolic succession in the Church; a body, I mean, which, in +addition to Episcopacy, believes that there is a standing ordinance +above Episcopacy, and gives it the name of the Apostolate?" + +"On the contrary," answered Mr. Highfly, "I consider that we are +restoring what has lain dormant ever since the time of St. Paul; nay, I +will say it is an ordinance which never has been carried into effect at +all, though it was in the Divine design from the first. You will observe +that the Apostles were Jews; but there never has been a Gentile +Apostolate. St. Paul indeed was Apostle of the Gentiles, but the design +begun in him has hitherto been frustrated. He went up to Jerusalem +against the solemn warning of the Spirit; now we are raised up to +complete that work of the Spirit, which was stopped by the inadvertence +of the first Apostle." + +Jack interposed: he should be very glad, he said, to know what religious +persuasion it was, besides his own, which Mr. Reding considered to have +preserved the succession of Apostles as something distinct from Bishops. + +"It is quite plain whom I mean--The Catholics," answered Charles. "The +Popedom is the true Apostolate, the Pope is the successor of the +Apostles, particularly of St. Peter." + +"We are very well inclined to the Roman Catholics," answered Mr. +Highfly, with some hesitation; "we have adopted a great part of their +ritual; but we are not accustomed to consider that we resemble them in +what is our characteristic and cardinal tenet." + +"Allow me to say it, Mr. Highfly," said Reding, "it is a reason why +every Irvingite--I mean every member of your denomination--should become +a Catholic. Your own religious sense has taught you that there ought to +be an Apostolate in the Church. You consider that the authority of the +Apostles was not temporary, but essential and fundamental. What that +authority was, we see in St. Paul's conduct towards St. Timothy. He +placed him in the see of Ephesus, he sent him a charge, and, in fact, he +was his overseer or Bishop. He had the care of all the Churches. Now, +this is precisely the power which the Pope claims, and has ever claimed; +and, moreover, he has claimed it, as being the _successor_, and the sole +proper successor of the Apostles, though Bishops may be improperly such +also.[2] And hence Catholics call him Vicar of Christ, Bishop of +Bishops, and the like; and, I believe, consider that he, in a +pre-eminent sense, is the one pastor or ruler of the Church, the source +of jurisdiction, the judge of controversies, and the centre of unity, as +having the powers of the Apostles, and specially of St. Peter." + + [2] "Successores sunt, sed ita ut potius Vicarii dicendi sint + Apostolorum, quam successores; contra, Romanus Pontifex, quia verus + Petri successor est, nonnisi per quendam abusum ejus vicarius + diceretur."--Zaccar. _Antifebr._, p. 130. + +Mr. Highfly kept silence. + +"Don't you think, then, it would be well," continued Charles, "that, +before coming to convert me, you should first join the Catholic Church? +at least, you would urge your doctrine upon me with more authority if +you came as a member of it. And I will tell you frankly, that you would +find it easier to convert me to Catholicism than to your present +persuasion." + +Jack looked at Mr. Highfly, as if hoping for some decisive reply to what +was a new view to him; but Mr. Highfly took a different line. "Well, +sir," he said, "I do not see that any good will come by our continuing +the interview; but your last remark leads me to observe that +_proselytism_ was not our object in coming here. We did not propose more +than to _inform_ you that a great work was going on, to direct your +attention to it, and to invite your co-operation. We do not controvert; +we only wish to deliver our testimony, and there to leave the matter. I +believe, then, we need not take up your valuable time longer." With that +he got up, and Jack with him, and, with many courteous bows and smiles, +which were duly responded to by Reding, the two visitors took their +departure. + +"Well, I might have been worse off," thought Reding; "really they are +gentle, well-mannered creatures, after all. I might have been attacked +by some of your furious Exeter-Hall beasts; but now to business.... +What's that?" he added. Alas, it was a soft, distinct tap at the door; +there was no mistake. "Who's there? come in!" he cried; upon which the +door gently opened, and a young lady, not without attractions of person +and dress, presented herself. Charles started up with vexation; but +there was no help for it, and he was obliged to hand her a chair, and +then to wait, all expectation, or rather all impatience, to be informed +of her mission. For a while she did not speak, but sat, with her head on +one side, looking at her parasol, the point of which she fixed on the +carpet, while she slowly described a circumference with the handle. At +length she asked, without raising her eyes, whether it was true--and she +spoke slowly and in what is called a spiritual tone--whether it was +true, the information had been given her, that Mr. Reding, the +gentleman she had the honour of addressing--whether it was true, that he +was in search of a religion more congenial to his feelings than that of +the Church of England? "Mr. Reding could not give her any satisfaction +on the subject of her inquiry;"--he answered shortly, and had some +difficulty in keeping from rudeness in his tone. The interrogation, she +went on to say, perhaps might seem impertinent; but she had a motive. +Some dear sisters of hers were engaged in organizing a new religious +body, and Mr. Reding's accession, counsel, assistance, would be +particularly valuable; the more so, because as yet they had not any +gentleman of University education among them. + +"May I ask," said Charles, "the name of the intended persuasion?" + +"The name," she answered, "is not fixed; indeed, this is one of the +points on which we should covet the privilege of the advice of a +gentleman so well qualified as Mr. Reding to assist us in our +deliberations." + +"And your tenets, ma'am?" + +"Here, too," she replied, "there is much still to be done; the tenets +are not fixed either, that is, they are but sketched; and we shall prize +your suggestions much. Nay, you will of course have the opportunity, as +you would have the right, to nominate any doctrine to which you may be +especially inclined." + +Charles did not know how to answer to so liberal an offer. + +She continued: "Perhaps it is right, Mr. Reding, that I should tell you +something more about myself personally. I was born in the communion of +the Church of England; for a while I was a member of the New Connexion; +and after that," she added, still with drooping head and languid +sing-song voice, "after that, I was a Plymouth brother." It got too +absurd; and Charles, who had for an instant been amused, now became full +of the one thought, how to get her out of the room. + +It was obviously left to her to keep up the conversation: so she said +presently, "We are all for a pure religion." + +"From what you tell me," said Charles, "I gather that every member of +your new community is allowed to name one or two doctrines of his own." + +"We are all scriptural," she made answer, "and therefore are all one; we +may differ, but we agree. Still it is so, as you say, Mr. Reding. I'm +for election and assurance; our dearest friend is for perfection; and +another sweet sister is for the second advent. But we desire to include +among us all souls who are thirsting after the river of life, whatever +their personal views. I believe you are partial to sacraments and +ceremonies?" + +Charles tried to cut short the interview by denying that he had any +religion to seek after, or any decision to make; but it was easier to +end the conversation than the visit. He threw himself back in his chair +in despair, and half closed his eyes. "Oh, those good Irvingites," he +thought, "blameless men, who came only to protest, and vanished at the +first word of opposition; but now thrice has the church-clock struck the +quarters since her entrance, and I don't see why she's not to stop here +as long as it goes on striking, since she has stopped so long. She has +not in her the elements of progress and decay. She'll never die; what is +to become of me?" + +Nor was she doomed to find a natural death; for, when the case seemed +hopeless, a noise was heard on the staircase, and, with scarcely the +apology for a knock, a wild gawky man made his appearance, and at once +cried out, "I hope, sir, it's not a bargain yet; I hope it's not too +late; discharge this young woman, Mr. Reding, and let me teach you the +old truth, which never has been repealed." + +There was no need of discharging her; for as kindly as she had unfolded +her leaves and flourished in the sun of Reding's forbearance, so did she +at once shrink and vanish--one could hardly tell how--before the rough +accents of the intruder; and Charles suddenly found himself in the hands +of a new tormentor. "This is intolerable," he said to himself; and, +jumping up, he cried, "Sir, excuse me, I am particularly engaged this +morning, and I must beg to decline the favour of your visit." + +"What did you say, sir?" said the stranger; and, taking a note-book and +a pencil from his pocket, he began to look up in Charles's face and +write down his words, saying half aloud, as he wrote, "Declines the +favour of my visit." Then he looked up again, keeping his pencil upon +his paper, and said, "Now, sir." + +Reding moved towards him, and, spreading his arms as one drives sheep +and poultry in one direction, he repeated, looking towards the door, +"Really, sir, I feel the honour of your call; but another day, sir, +another day. It is too much, too much." + +"Too much?" said the intruder; "and I waiting below so long! That dainty +lady has been good part of an hour here, and now you can't give me five +minutes, sir." + +"Why, sir," answered Charles, "I am sure you are come on an errand as +fruitless as hers; and I am sick of these religious discussions, and +want to be to myself, and to save you trouble." + +"Sick of religions discussions," said the stranger to himself, as he +wrote down the words in his note-book. Charles did not deign to notice +his act or to explain his own expression; he stood prepared to renew his +action of motioning him to the door. His tormentor then said, "You may +like to know my name; it is Zerubbabel." + +Vexed as Reding was, he felt that he had no right to visit the +tediousness of his former visitor upon his present; so he forced himself +to reply, "Zerubbabel; indeed; and is Zerubbabel your Christian name, +sir, or your surname?" + +"It is both at once, Mr. Reding," answered Zerubbabel, "or rather, I +have no Christian name, and Zerubbabel is my one Jewish designation." + +"You are come, then, to inquire whether I am likely to become a Jew." + +"Stranger things have happened," answered his visitor; "for instance, I +myself was once a deacon in the Church of England." + +"Then you are not a Jew?" said Charles. + +"I am a Jew by choice," he said; "after much prayer and study of +Scripture, I have come to the conclusion that, as Judaism was the first +religion, so it's to be the last. Christianity I consider an episode in +the history of revelation." + +"You are not likely to have many followers in such a belief," said +Charles; "we are all for progress now, not for retrograding." + +"I differ from you, Mr. Reding," said Zerubbabel; "see what the +Establishment is doing; it has sent a Bishop to Jerusalem." + +"That is rather with the view of making the Jews Christians than the +Christians Jews," said Reding. + +Zerubbabel wrote down: "Thinks Bishop of Jerusalem is to convert the +Jews;" then, "I differ from you, sir; on the contrary, I fancy the +excellent Bishop has in view to revive the distinction between Jew and +Gentile, which is one step towards the supremacy of the former; for if +the Jews have a place at all in Christianity, as Jews, it must be the +first place." + +Charles thought he had better let him have his talk out; so Zerubbabel +proceeded: "The good Bishop in question knows well that the Jew is the +elder brother of the Gentile, and it is his special mission to restore a +Jewish episcopate to the See of Jerusalem. The Jewish succession has +been suspended since the time of the Apostles. And now you see the +reason of my calling on you, Mr. Reding. It is reported that you lean +towards the Catholic Church; but I wish to suggest to you that you have +mistaken the centre of unity. The See of James at Jerusalem is the true +centre, not the See of Peter at Rome. Peter's power is a usurpation on +James's. I consider the present Bishop of Jerusalem the true Pope. The +Gentiles have been in power too long; it is now the Jews' turn." + +"You seem to allow," said Charles, "that there ought to be a centre of +unity and a Pope." + +"Certainly," said Zerubbabel, "and a ritual too, but it should be the +Jewish. I am collecting subscriptions for the rebuilding of the Temple +on Mount Moriah; I hope too to negotiate a loan, and we shall have +Temple stock, yielding, I calculate, at least four per cent." + +"It has hitherto been thought a sin," said Reding, "to attempt +rebuilding the Temple. According to you, Julian the Apostate went the +better way to work." + +"His motive was wrong, sir," answered the other; "but his act was good. +The way to convert the Jews is, first to accept their rites. This is one +of the greatest discoveries of this age. _We_ must make the first step +towards _them_. For myself, I have adopted all which the present state +of their religion renders possible. And I don't despair to see the day +when bloody sacrifices will be offered on the Temple Mount as of old." + +Here he came to a pause; and Charles making no reply, he said, in a +brisk, off-hand manner, "May I not hope you will give your name to this +religious object, and adopt the old ritual? The Catholic is quite of +yesterday compared with it." Charles answering in the negative, +Zerubbabel wrote down in his book: "Refuses to take part in our scheme;" +and disappeared from the room as suddenly as he entered it. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Charles's trials were not at an end; and we suspect the reader will give +a shudder at the news, as having a very material share in the +infliction. Yet the reader's case has this great alleviation, that he +takes up this narrative in an idle hour, and Charles encountered the +reality in a very busy and anxious one. So, however, it was: not any +great time elapsed after the retreat of Zerubbabel, when his landlord +again appeared at the door. He assured Mr. Reding that it was no fault +of his that the last two persons had called on him; that the lady had +slipped by him, and the gentleman had forced his way; but that he now +really did wish to solicit an interview for a personage of great +literary pretensions, who sometimes dealt with him, and who had come +from the West End for the honour of an interview with Mr. Reding. +Charles groaned, but only one reply was possible; the day was already +wasted, and with a sort of dull resignation he gave permission for the +introduction of the stranger. + +It was a pale-faced man of about thirty-five, who, when he spoke, arched +his eyebrows, and had a peculiar smile. He began by expressing his +apprehension that Mr. Reding must have been wearied by impertinent and +unnecessary visitors--visitors without intellect, who knew no better +than to obtrude their fanaticism on persons who did but despise it. "I +know more about the Universities," he continued, "than to suppose that +any congeniality can exist between their members and the mass of +religious sectarians. You have had very distinguished men among you, +sir, at Oxford, of very various schools, yet all able men, and +distinguished in the pursuit of Truth, though they have arrived at +contradictory opinions." + +Not knowing what he was driving at, Reding remained in an attitude of +expectation. + +"I belong," he continued, "to a Society which is devoted to the +extension among all classes of the pursuit of Truth. Any philosophical +mind, Mr. Reding, must have felt deep interest in your own party in the +University. Our Society, in fact, considers you to be distinguished +Confessors in that all-momentous occupation; and I have thought I could +not pay yourself individually, whose name has lately honourably appeared +in the papers, a better compliment than to get you elected a member of +our Truth Society. And here is your diploma," he added, handing a sheet +of paper to him. Charles glanced his eye over it; it was a paper, part +engraving, part print, part manuscript. An emblem of truth was in the +centre, represented, not by a radiating sun or star, as might be +expected, but as the moon under total eclipse, surrounded, as by cherub +faces, by the heads of Socrates, Cicero, Julian, Abelard, Luther, +Benjamin Franklin, and Lord Brougham. Then followed some sentences to +the effect that the London Branch Association of the British and Foreign +Truth Society, having evidence of the zeal in the pursuit of Truth of +Charles Reding, Esq., member of Oxford University, had unanimously +elected him into their number, and had assigned him the dignified and +responsible office of associate and corresponding member. + +"I thank the Truth Society very much," said Charles, when he got to the +end of the paper, "for this mark of their good will; yet I regret to +have scruples about accepting it till some of the patrons are changed, +whose heads are prefixed to the diploma. For instance, I do not like to +be under the shadow of the Emperor Julian." + +"You would respect his love of Truth, I presume," said Mr. Batts. + +"Not much, I fear," said Charles, "seeing it did not hinder him from +deliberately embracing error." + +"No, not so," answered Mr. Batts; "_he_ thought it Truth; and Julian, I +conceive, cannot be said to have deserted the Truth, because, in fact, +he always was in pursuit of it." + +"I fear," said Reding, "there is a very serious difference between your +principles and my own on this point." + +"Ah, my dear sir, a little attention to our principles will remove it," +said Mr. Batts: "let me beg your acceptance of this little pamphlet, in +which you will find some fundamental truths stated, almost in the way of +aphorisms. I wish to direct your attention to page 8, where they are +drawn out." + +Charles turned to the page, and read as follows:-- + + "_On the pursuit of Truth._ + + 1. It is uncertain whether Truth exists. + + 2. It is certain that it cannot be found. + + 3. It is a folly to boast of possessing it. + + 4. Man's work and duty, as man, consist, not in possessing, but in + seeking it. + + 5. His happiness and true dignity consist in the pursuit. + + 6. The pursuit of Truth is an end to be engaged in for its own + sake. + + 7. As philosophy is the love, not the possession of wisdom, so + religion is the love, not the possession of Truth. + + 8. As Catholicism begins with faith, so Protestantism ends with + inquiry. + + 9. As there is disinterestedness in seeking, so is there + selfishness in claiming to possess. + + 10. The martyr of Truth is he who dies professing that it is a + shadow. + + 11. A life-long martyrdom is this, to be ever changing. + + 12. The fear of error is the bane of inquiry." + +Charles did not get further than these, but others followed of a similar +character. He returned the pamphlet to Mr. Batts. "I see enough," he +said, "of the opinions of the Truth Society to admire their ingenuity +and originality, but, excuse me, not their good sense. It is impossible +I should subscribe to what is so plainly opposed to Christianity." + +Mr. Batts looked annoyed. "We have no wish to oppose Christianity," he +said; "we only wish Christianity not to oppose us. It is very hard that +we may not go our own way, when we are quite willing that others should +go theirs. It seems imprudent, I conceive, in this age, to represent +Christianity as hostile to the progress of the mind, and to turn into +enemies of revelation those who do sincerely wish to 'live and let +live.'" + +"But contradictions cannot be true," said Charles: "if Christianity says +that Truth can be found, it must be an error to state that it cannot be +found." + +"I conceive it to be intolerant," persisted Mr. Batts: "you will grant, +I suppose, that Christianity has nothing to do with astronomy or +geology: why, then, should it be allowed to interfere with philosophy?" + +It was useless proceeding in the discussion; Charles repressed the +answer which rose on his tongue of the essential connexion of philosophy +with religion; a silence ensued of several minutes, and Mr. Batts at +length took the hint, for he rose with a disappointed air, and wished +him good morning. + +It mattered little now whether he was left to himself or not, except +that conversation harassed and fretted him; for, as to turning his mind +to the subjects which were to have been his occupation that morning, it +was by this time far too much wearied and dissipated to undertake them. +On Mr. Batts' departure, then, he did not make the attempt, but sat +before the fire, dull and depressed, and in danger of relapsing into the +troubled thoughts from which his railroad companion had extricated him. +When, then, at the end of half an hour, a new knock was heard at the +door, he admitted the postulant with a calm indifference, as if fortune +had now done her worst, and he had nothing to fear. A middle-aged man +made his appearance, sleek and plump, who seemed to be in good +circumstances, and to have profited by them. His glossy black dress, in +contrast with the crimson colour of his face and throat, for he wore no +collars, and his staid and pompous bearing, added to his rapid delivery +when he spoke, gave him much the look of a farm-yard turkey-cock in the +eyes of any one who was less disgusted with seeing new faces than Reding +was at that moment. The new comer looked sharply at him as he entered. +"Your most obedient," he said abruptly; "you seem in low spirits, my +dear sir; but sit down, Mr. Reding, and give me the opportunity of +offering to you a little good advice. You may guess what I am by my +appearance: I speak for myself; I will say no more; I can be of use to +you. Mr. Reding," he continued, pulling his chair towards him, and +putting out his hand as if he was going to paw him, "have not you made a +mistake in thinking it necessary to go to the Romish Church for a relief +of your religious difficulties?" + +"You have not yet heard from me, sir," answered Charles gravely, "that I +have any difficulties at all. Excuse me if I am abrupt; I have had many +persons calling on me with your errand. It is very kind of you, but I +don't want advice; I was a fool to come here." + +"Well, my dear Mr. Reding, but listen to me," answered his persecutor, +spreading out the fingers of his right hand, and opening his eyes wide: +"I am right, I believe, in apprehending that your reason for leaving the +Establishment is, that you cannot carry out the surplice in the pulpit +and the candlesticks on the table. Now, don't you do more than you need. +Pardon me, but you are like a person who should turn the Thames in upon +his house, when he merely wanted his door-steps scrubbed. Why become a +convert to Popery, when you can obtain your object in a cheaper and +better way? Set up for yourself, my dear sir--set up for yourself; form +a new denomination, sixpence will do it; and then you may have your +surplice and candlesticks to your heart's content, without denying the +gospel, or running into the horrible abominations of the Scarlet Woman." +And he sat upright in his chair, with his hands flat on his extended +knees, watching with a self-satisfied air the effect of his words upon +Reding. + +"I have had enough of this," said poor Charles; "you, indeed, are but +one of a number, sir, and would say you had nothing to do with the rest; +but I cannot help regarding you as the fifth, or sixth, or seventh +person--I can't count them--who has been with me this morning, giving +me, though with the best intentions, advice which has not been asked +for. I don't know you, sir; you have no introduction to me; you have not +even told me your name. It is not usual to discourse on such personal +matters with strangers. Let me, then, thank you first for your kindness +in coming, and next for the additional kindness of going." And Charles +rose up. + +His visitor did not seem inclined to move, or to notice what he had +said. He stopped awhile, opened his handkerchief with much deliberation, +and blew his nose; then he continued: "Kitchens is my name, sir; Dr. +Kitchens; your state of mind, Mr. Reding, is not unknown to me; you are +at present under the influence of the old Adam, and indeed in a +melancholy way. I was not unprepared for it; and I have put into my +pocket a little tract which I shall press upon you with all the +Christian solicitude which brother can show towards brother. Here it is; +I have the greatest confidence in it; perhaps you have heard the name; +it is known as Kitchens's Spiritual Elixir. The Elixir has enlightened +millions; and, I will take on me to say, will convert you in twenty-four +hours. Its operation is mild and pleasurable, and its effects are +marvellous, prodigious, though it does not consist of more than eight +duodecimo pages. Here's a list of testimonies to some of the most +remarkable cases. I have known one hundred and two cases myself in which +it effected a saving change in six hours; seventy-nine in which its +operations took place in as few as three; and twenty-seven where +conversion followed instantaneously after the perusal. At once, poor +sinners, who five minutes before had been like the demoniac in the +gospel, were seen sitting 'clothed, and in their right mind.' Thus I +speak within the mark, Mr. Reding, when I say I will warrant a change in +you in twenty-four hours. I have never known but one instance in which +it seemed to fail, and that was the case of a wretched old man who held +it in his hand a whole day in dead silence, without any apparent +effect; but here _exceptio probat regulam_, for on further inquiry we +found he could not read. So the tract was slowly administered to him by +another person; and before it was finished, I protest to you, Mr. +Reding, he fell into a deep and healthy slumber, perspired profusely, +and woke up at the end of twelve hours a new creature, perfectly new, +bran new, and fit for heaven--whither he went in the course of the week. +We are now making farther experiments on its operation, and we find that +even separate leaves of the tract have a proportionate effect. And, what +is more to your own purpose, it is quite a specific in the case of +Popery. It directly attacks the peccant matter, and all the trash about +sacraments, saints, penance, purgatory, and good works is dislodged from +the soul at once." + +Charles remained silent and grave, as one who was likely suddenly to +break out into some strong act, rather than condescend to any farther +parleying. + +Dr. Kitchens proceeded: "Have you attended any of the lectures delivered +against the Mystic Babylon, or any of the public disputes which have +been carried on in so many places? My dear friend, Mr. Macanoise, +contested ten points with thirty Jesuits--a good half of the Jesuits in +London--and beat them upon all. Or have you heard any of the luminaries +of Exeter Hall? There is Mr. Gabb; he is a Boanerges, a perfect Niagara, +for his torrent of words; such momentum in his delivery; it is as rapid +as it's strong; it's enough to knock a man down. He can speak seven +hours running without fatigue; and last year he went through England, +delivering through the length and breadth of the land, one, and one +only, awful protest against the apocalyptic witch of Endor. He began at +Devonport and ended at Berwick, and surpassed himself on every delivery. +At Berwick, his last exhibition, the effect was perfectly tremendous; a +friend of mine heard it; he assures me, incredible as it may appear, +that it shattered some glass in a neighbouring house; and two priests of +Baal, who were with their day-school within a quarter of a mile of Mr. +Gabb, were so damaged by the mere echo, that one forthwith took to his +bed and the other has walked on crutches ever since." He stopped awhile; +then he continued: "And what was it, do you think, Mr. Reding, which had +this effect on them? Why, it was Mr. Gabb's notion about the sign of the +beast in the Revelation: he proved, Mr. Reding--it was the most original +hit in his speech--he proved that it was the sign of the cross, the +material cross." + +The time at length was come; Reding could not bear more; and, as it +happened, his visitor's offence gave him the means, as well as a cause, +for punishing him. "Oh," he said suddenly, "then I suppose, Dr. +Kitchens, you can't tolerate the cross?" + +"Oh no; tolerate it!" answered Dr. Kitchens; "it is Antichrist." + +"You can't bear the sight of it, I suspect, Dr. Kitchens?" + +"I can't endure it, sir; what true Protestant can?" + +"Then look here," said Charles, taking a small crucifix out of his +writing-desk; and he held it before Dr. Kitchens' face. + +Dr. Kitchens at once started on his feet, and retreated. "What's that?" +he said, and his face flushed up and then turned pale; "what's that? +it's the thing itself!" and he made a snatch at it. "Take it away, Mr. +Reding; it's an idol; I cannot endure it; take away the thing!" + +"I declare," said Reding to himself, "it really has power over him;" and +he still confronted Dr. Kitchens with it, while he kept it out of Dr. +Kitchens' reach. + +"Take it away, Mr. Reding, I beseech you," cried Kitchens, still +retreating, while Charles still pressed on him; "take it away, it's too +much. Oh, oh! Spare me, spare me, Mr. Reding!--nehushtan--an idol!--oh, +you young antichrist, you devil!--'tis He, 'tis He--torment!--spare me, +Mr. Reding." And the miserable man began to dance about, still eyeing +the sacred sign, and motioning it from him. + +Charles now had victory in his hands: there was, indeed, some difficulty +in steering Kitchens to the door from the place where he had been +sitting, but, that once effected, he opened it with violence, and, +throwing himself on the staircase, he began to jump down two or three +steps at a time, with such forgetfulness of everything but his own +terror, that he came plump upon two persons who, in rivalry of each +other, were in the act of rushing up: and, while he drove one against +the rail, he fairly rolled the other to the bottom. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Charles threw himself on his chair, burying the Crucifix in his bosom, +quite worn out with his long trial and the sudden exertion in which it +had just now been issuing. When a noise was heard at his door, and +knocks succeeded, he took no farther notice than to plant his feet on +the fender and bury his face in his hands. The summons at first was +apparently from one person only, but his delay in answering it gave time +for the arrival of another; and there was a brisk succession of +alternate knocks from the two, which Charles let take its course. At +length one of the rival candidates for admission, bolder than the other, +slowly opened the door; when the other, who had impetuously scrambled +upstairs after his fall, rushed in before him, crying out, "One word for +the New Jerusalem!" "In charity," said Reding, without changing his +attitude, "in charity, leave me alone. You mean it well, but I don't +want you, sir; I don't indeed. I've had Old Jerusalem here already, and +Jewish Apostles, and Gentile Apostles, and free inquiry, and fancy +religion, and Exeter Hall. What _have_ I done? why can't I die out in +peace? My dear sir, do go! I can't see you; I'm worn out." And he rose +up and advanced towards him. "Call again, dear sir, if you are bent on +talking with me; but, excuse me, I really have had enough of it for one +day. No fault of yours, my dear sir, that you have come the sixth or +seventh." And he opened the door for him. + +"A madman nearly threw me down as I was coming up," said the person +addressed, in some agitation. + +"Ten thousand pardons for his rudeness, my dear sir--ten thousand +pardons, but allow me;" and he bowed him out of the room. He then turned +round to the other stranger, who had stood by in silence: "And you too, +sir ... is it possible!" His countenance changed to extreme surprise; it +was Mr. Malcolm. Charles's thoughts flowed in a new current, and his +tormentors were suddenly forgotten. + +The history of Mr. Malcolm's calling was simple. He had always been a +collector of old books, and had often taken advantage of the stores of +Charles's landlord in adding to his library. Passing through London to +the Eastern Counties Rail, he happened to call in; and, as his friend +the bookseller was not behind his own reading-room in the diffusion of +gossip, he learned that Mr. Reding, who was on the point of seceding +from the Establishment, was at that moment above stairs. He waited with +impatience through Dr. Kitchens' visit, and even then found himself, to +his no small annoyance, in danger of being outstripped by the good +Swedenborgian. + +"How d'ye do, Charles?" he said, at length, with not a little stiffness +in his manner, while Charles had no less awkwardness in receiving him; +"you have been holding a levee this morning; I thought I should never +get to see you. Sit you down; let us both sit down, and let me at last +have a word or two with you." + +In spite of the diversified trial Charles had sustained from strangers +that morning, there was no one perhaps whom he would have less desired +to see than Mr. Malcolm. He could not help associating him with his +father, yet he felt no opening of heart towards him, nor respect for his +judgment. His feeling was a mixture of prescriptive fear and +friendliness, attachment from old associations, and desire of standing +well with him, but neither confidence nor real love. He coloured up and +felt guilty, yet without a clear understanding why. + +"Well, Charles Reding," he said, "I think we know each other well enough +for you to have given me a hint of what was going on as regards you." + +Charles said he had written to him only the evening before. + +"Ah, when there was not time to answer your letter," said Mr. Malcolm. + +Charles said he wished to spare so kind a friend ... he bungled, and +could not finish his sentence. + +"A friend, who, of course, could give no advice," said Mr. Malcolm +drily. Presently he said, "Were those people some of your new friends +who were calling on you? they have kept me in the shop this +three-quarters of an hour; and the fellow who has just come down nearly +threw me over the baluster." + +"Oh no, sir, I know nothing of them; they were the most unwelcome of +intruders." + +"As some one else seems to be," said Mr. Malcolm. + +Charles was very much hurt; the more so, because he had nothing to say; +he kept silence. + +"Well, Charles," said Mr. Malcolm, not looking at him, "I have known you +from this high; more, from a child in arms. A frank, open boy you were; +I don't know what has spoiled you. These Jesuits, perhaps.... It was not +so in your father's lifetime." + +"My dear sir," said Charles, "it pierces me to the heart to hear you +talk so. You have indeed always been most kind to me. If I have erred, +it has been an error of judgment; and I am very sorry for it, and hope +you will forgive it. I acted for the best; but I have been, as you must +feel, in a most trying situation. My mother has known what I was +contemplating this year past." + +"Trying situation! fudge! What have you to do with situations? I could +have told you a great deal about these Catholics; I know all about them. +Error of judgment! don't tell me. I know how these things happen quite +well. I have seen such things before; only I thought you a more sensible +fellow. There was young Dalton of St. Cross; he goes abroad, and falls +in with a smooth priest, who persuades the silly fellow that the +Catholic Church is the ancient and true Church of England, the only +religion for a gentleman; he is introduced to a Count this, and a +Marchioness that, and returns a Catholic. There was another; what was +his name? I forget it, of a Berkshire family. He is smitten with a +pretty face; nothing will serve but he must marry her; but she's a +Catholic, and can't marry a heretic; so he, forsooth, gives up the +favour of his uncle and his prospects in the county, for his fair +Juliet. There was another,--but it's useless going on. And, now I wonder +what has taken you." + +All this was the best justification for Charles's not having spoken to +Mr. Malcolm on the subject. That gentleman had had his own experience of +thirty or forty years, and, like some great philosophers, he made that +personal experience of his the decisive test of the possible and the +true. "I know them," he continued--"I know them; a set of hypocrites and +sharpers. I could tell you such stories of what I fell in with abroad. +Those priests are not to be trusted. Did you ever know a priest?" + +"No," answered Charles. + +"Did you ever see a Popish chapel?" + +"No." + +"Do you know anything of Catholic books, Catholic doctrine, Catholic +morality? I warrant it, not much." + +Charles looked very uncomfortable. + +"Then what makes you go to them?" + +Charles did not know what to say. + +"Silly boy," he went on, "you have not a word to say for yourself; it's +all idle fancy. You are going as a bird to the fowler." + +Reding began to rouse himself; he felt he ought to say something; he +felt that silence would tell against him. "Dear sir," he answered, +"there's nothing but may be turned against one if a person is so minded. +Now, do think; had I known this or that priest, you would have said at +once, 'Ah, he came over you.' If I had been familiar with Catholic +chapels, 'I was allured by the singing or the incense.' What can I have +done better than keep myself to myself, go by my best reason, consult +the friends whom I happened to find around me, as I have done, and wait +in patience till I was sure of my convictions?" + +"Ah, that's the way with you youngsters," said Mr. Malcolm; "you all +think you are so right; you do think so admirably that older heads are +worth nothing to the like of you. Well," he went on, putting on his +gloves, "I see I am not in the way to persuade you. Poor dear Charlie, I +grieve for you; what would your poor father have said, had he lived to +see it? Poor Reding, he has been spared this. But perhaps it would not +have happened. I know what the upshot will be; you will come back--come +back you will, to a dead certainty. We shall see you back, foolish boy, +after you have had your gallop over your ploughed field. Well, well; +better than running wild. You must have your hobby; it might have been a +worse; you might have run through your money. But perhaps you'll be +giving it away, as it is, to some artful priest. It's grievous, +grievous; your education thrown away, your prospects ruined, your poor +mother and sisters left to take care of themselves. And you don't say a +word to me." And he began musing. "A troublesome world: good-bye, +Charles; you are high and mighty now, and are in full sail: you may come +to your father's friend some day in a different temper. Good-bye." + +There was no help for it; Charles's heart was full, but his head was +wearied and confused, and his spirit sank; for all these reasons he had +not a word to say, and seemed to Mr. Malcolm either stupid or close. He +could but wring warmly Mr. Malcolm's reluctant hand, and accompany him +down to the street-door. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +"This will never do," said Charles, as he closed the door, and ran +upstairs; "here is a day wasted, worse than wasted, wasted partly on +strangers, partly on friends; and it's hard to say in which case a more +thorough waste. I ought to have gone to the Convent at once." The +thought flashed into his mind, and he stood over the fire dwelling on +it. "Yes," he said, "I will delay no longer. How does time go? I declare +it's past four o'clock." He then thought again: "I'll get over my +dinner, and then at once betake myself to my good Passionists." + +To the coffee-house then he went, and, as it was some way off, it is not +wonderful that it was near six before he arrived at the Convent. It was +a plain brick building; money had not been so abundant as to overflow +upon the exterior, after the expense of the interior had been provided +for. And it was incomplete; a large church had been enclosed, but it was +scarcely more than a shell,--altars, indeed, had been set up, but, for +the rest, it had little more than good proportions, a broad sanctuary, a +serviceable organ, and an effective choir. There was a range of +buildings adjacent, capable of holding about half-a-dozen fathers; but +the size of the church required a larger establishment. By this time, +doubtless, things are different, but we are looking back at the first +efforts of the English Congregation, when it had scarcely ceased to +struggle for life, and when friends and members were but beginning to +flow in. + +It was indeed but ten years, at that time, since the severest of modern +rules had been introduced into England. Two centuries after the +memorable era when St. Philip and St. Ignatius, making light of those +bodily austerities of which they were personally so great masters, +preached mortification of will and reason as more necessary for a +civilized age,--in the lukewarm and self-indulgent eighteenth century, +Father Paul of the Cross was divinely moved to found a Congregation in +some respects more ascetic than the primitive hermits and the orders of +the middle age. It was not fast, or silence, or poverty which +distinguished it, though here too it is not wanting in strictness; but +in the cell of its venerable founder, on the Celian Hill, hangs an iron +discipline or scourge, studded with nails, which is a memorial, not only +of his own self-inflicted sufferings, but of those of his Italian +family. The object of those sufferings was as remarkable as their +intensity; penance, indeed, is in one respect the end of all +self-chastisement, but in the instance of the Passionists the use of the +scourge was specially directed to the benefit of their neighbour. They +applied the pain to the benefit of the holy souls in Purgatory, or they +underwent it to rouse a careless audience. On their missions, when their +words seemed uttered in vain, they have been known suddenly to undo +their habit, and to scourge themselves with sharp knives or razors, +crying out to the horrified people, that they would not show mercy to +their flesh till they whom they were addressing took pity on their own +perishing souls. Nor was it to their own countrymen alone that this +self-consuming charity extended; how it so happened does not appear; +perhaps a certain memento close to their house was the earthly cause; +but so it was, that for many years the heart of Father Paul was expanded +towards a northern nation, with which, humanly speaking, he had nothing +to do. Over against St. John and St. Paul, the home of the Passionists +on the Celian, rises the old church and monastery of San Gregorio, the +womb, as it may be called, of English Christianity. There had lived that +great Saint, who is named our Apostle, who was afterwards called to the +chair of St. Peter; and thence went forth, in and after his pontificate, +Augustine, Paulinus, Justus, and the other Saints by whom our barbarous +ancestors were converted. Their names, which are now written up upon the +pillars of the portico, would almost seem to have issued forth, and +crossed over, and confronted the venerable Paul; for, strange to say, +the thought of England came into his ordinary prayers; and in his last +years, after a vision during Mass, as if he had been Augustine or +Mellitus, he talked of his "sons" in England. + +It was strange enough that even one Italian in the heart of Rome should +at that time have ambitious thoughts of making novices or converts in +this country; but, after the venerable Founder's death, his special +interest in our distant isle showed itself in another member of his +institute. On the Apennines, near Viterbo, there dwelt a shepherd-boy, +in the first years of this century, whose mind had early been drawn +heavenward; and, one day, as he prayed before an image of the Madonna, +he felt a vivid intimation that he was destined to preach the Gospel +under the northern sky. There appeared no means by which a Roman peasant +should be turned into a missionary; nor did the prospect open, when this +youth found himself, first a lay-brother, then a Father, in the +Congregation of the Passion. Yet, though no external means appeared, the +inward impression did not fade; on the contrary, it became more +definite, and, in process of time, instead of the dim north, England was +engraven on his heart. And, strange to say, as years went on, without +his seeking, for he was simply under obedience, our peasant found +himself at length upon the very shore of the stormy northern sea, whence +Cĉsar of old looked out for a new world to conquer; yet that he should +cross the strait was still as little likely as before. However, it was +as likely as that he should ever have got so near it; and he used to eye +the restless, godless waves, and wonder with himself whether the day +would ever come when he should be carried over them. And come it did, +not however by any determination of his own, but by the same Providence +which thirty years before had given him the anticipation of it. + +At the time of our narrative, Father Domenico de Matre Dei had become +familiar with England; he had had many anxieties here, first from want +of funds, then still more from want of men. Year passed after year, and, +whether fear of the severity of the rule--though that was groundless, +for it had been mitigated for England--or the claim of other religious +bodies was the cause, his community did not increase, and he was tempted +to despond. But every work has its season; and now for some time past +that difficulty had been gradually lessening; various zealous men, some +of noble birth, others of extensive acquirements, had entered the +Congregation; and our friend Willis, who at this time had received the +priesthood, was not the last of these accessions, though domiciled at a +distance from London. And now the reader knows much more about the +Passionists than did Reding at the time that he made his way to their +monastery. + +The church door came first, and, as it was open, he entered it. It +apparently was filling for service. When he got inside, the person who +immediately preceded him dipped his finger into a vessel of water which +stood at the entrance, and offered it to Charles. Charles, ignorant what +it meant, and awkward from his consciousness of it, did nothing but +slink aside, and look for some place of refuge; but the whole space was +open, and there seemed no corner to retreat into. Every one, however, +seemed about his own business; no one minded him, and so far he felt at +his ease. He stood near the door, and began to look about him. A +profusion of candles was lighting at the High Altar, which stood in the +centre of a semicircular apse. There were side-altars--perhaps +half-a-dozen; most of them without lights, but, even here, solitary +worshippers might be seen. Over one was a large old Crucifix with a +lamp, and this had a succession of visitors. They came each for five +minutes, said some prayers which were attached in a glazed frame to the +rail, and passed away. At another, which was in a chapel at the farther +end of one of the aisles, six long candles were burning, and over it was +an image. On looking attentively, Charles made out at last that it was +an image of Our Lady, and the Child held out a rosary. Here a +congregation had already assembled, or rather was in the middle of some +service, to him unknown. It was rapid, alternate, and monotonous; and, +as it seemed interminable, Reding turned his eyes elsewhere. They fell +first on one, then on another confessional, round each of which was a +little crowd, kneeling, waiting every one his own turn for presenting +himself for the sacrament--the men on the one side, the women on the +other. At the lower end of the church were about three ranges of +moveable benches with backs and kneelers; the rest of the large space +was open, and filled with chairs. The growing object of attention at +present was the High Altar; and each person, as he entered, took a +chair, and, kneeling down behind it, began his prayers. At length the +church got very full; rich and poor were mixed together--artisans, +well-dressed youths, Irish labourers, mothers with two or three +children--the only division being that of men from women. A set of boys +and children, mixed with some old crones, had got possession of the +altar-rail, and were hugging it with restless motions, as if in +expectation. + +Though Reding had continued standing, no one would have noticed him; but +he saw the time was come for him to kneel, and accordingly he moved into +a corner seat on the bench nearest him. He had hardly done so, when a +procession with lights passed from the sacristy to the altar; something +went on which he did not understand, and then suddenly began what, by +the _Miserere_ and _Ora pro nobis_, he perceived to be a litany; a hymn +followed. Reding thought he never had been present at worship before, so +absorbed was the attention, so intense was the devotion of the +congregation. What particularly struck him was, that whereas in the +Church of England the clergyman or the organ was everything and the +people nothing, except so far as the clerk is their representative, here +it was just reversed. The priest hardly spoke, or at least audibly; but +the whole congregation was as though one vast instrument or +Panharmonicon, moving all together, and, what was most remarkable, as if +self-moved. They did not seem to require any one to prompt or direct +them, though in the Litany the choir took the alternate parts. The words +were Latin, but every one seemed to understand them thoroughly, and to +be offering up his prayers to the Blessed Trinity, and the Incarnate +Saviour, and the great Mother of God, and the glorified Saints, with +hearts full in proportion to the energy of the sounds they uttered. +There was a little boy near him, and a poor woman, singing at the pitch +of their voices. There was no mistaking it; Reding said to himself, +"This _is_ a popular religion." He looked round at the building; it was, +as we have said, very plain, and bore the marks of being unfinished; +but the Living Temple which was manifested in it needed no curious +carving or rich marble to complete it, "for the glory of God had +enlightened it, and the Lamb was the lamp thereof." "How wonderful," +said Charles to himself, "that people call this worship formal and +external; it seems to possess all classes, young and old, polished and +vulgar, men and women indiscriminately; it is the working of one Spirit +in all, making many one." + +While he was thus thinking, a change came over the worship. A priest, or +at least an assistant, had mounted for a moment above the altar, and +removed a chalice or vessel which stood there; he could not see +distinctly. A cloud of incense was rising on high; the people suddenly +all bowed low; what could it mean? the truth flashed on him, fearfully +yet sweetly; it was the Blessed Sacrament--it was the Lord Incarnate who +was on the altar, who had come to visit and to bless His people. It was +the Great Presence, which makes a Catholic Church different from every +other place in the world; which makes it, as no other place can be, +holy. The Breviary offices were by this time not unknown to Reding; and +as he threw himself on the pavement, in sudden self-abasement and joy, +some words of those great Antiphons came into his mouth, from which +Willis had formerly quoted: "O Adonai, et Dux domûs Israel, qui Moysi in +rubo apparuisti; O Emmanuel, Exspectatio Gentium et Salvator earum, veni +ad salvandum nos, Domine Deus noster." + +The function did not last very long after this; Reding, on looking up, +found the congregation rapidly diminishing, and the lights in course of +extinction. He saw he must be quick in his motions. He made his way to a +lay-brother who was waiting till the doors could be closed, and begged +to be conducted to the Superior. The lay-brother feared he might be busy +at the moment, but conducted him through the sacristy to a small neat +room, where, being left to himself, he had time to collect his thoughts. +At length the Superior appeared; he was a man past the middle age, and +had a grave yet familiar manner. Charles's feelings were indescribable, +but all pleasurable. His heart beat, not with fear or anxiety, but with +the thrill of delight with which he realized that he was beneath the +shadow of a Catholic community, and face to face with one of its +priests. His trouble went in a moment, and he could have laughed for +joy. He could hardly keep his countenance, and almost feared to be taken +for a fool. He presented the card of his railroad companion. The good +Father smiled when he saw the name, nor did the few words which were +written with pencil on the card diminish his satisfaction. Charles and +he soon came to an understanding; he found himself already known in the +community by means of Willis; and it was arranged that he should take up +his lodging with his new friends forthwith, and remain there as long as +it suited him. He was to prepare for confession at once; and it was +hoped that on the following Sunday he might be received into Catholic +communion. After that, he was, at a convenient interval, to present +himself to the Bishop, from whom he would seek the sacrament of +confirmation. Not much time was necessary for removing his luggage from +his lodgings; and in the course of an hour from the time of his +interview with the Father Superior, he was sitting by himself, with pen +and paper and his books, and with a cheerful fire, in a small cell of +his new home. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +A very few words will conduct us to the end of our history. It was +Sunday morning about seven o'clock, and Charles had been admitted into +the communion of the Catholic Church about an hour since. He was still +kneeling in the church of the Passionists before the Tabernacle, in the +possession of a deep peace and serenity of mind, which he had not +thought possible on earth. It was more like the stillness which almost +sensibly affects the ears when a bell that has long been tolling stops, +or when a vessel, after much tossing at sea, finds itself in harbour. It +was such as to throw him back in memory on his earliest years, as if he +were really beginning life again. But there was more than the happiness +of childhood in his heart; he seemed to feel a rock under his feet; it +was the _soliditas Cathedrĉ Petri_. He went on kneeling, as if he were +already in heaven, with the throne of God before him, and angels around; +and as if to move were to lose his privilege. + +At length he felt a light hand on his shoulder, and a voice said, +"Reding, I am going; let me just say farewell to you before I go." He +looked around; it was Willis, or rather Father Aloysius, in his dark +Passionist habit, with the white heart sewed in at his left breast. +Willis carried him from the church into the sacristy. "What a joy, +Reding!" he whispered, when the door closed upon them; "what a day of +joy! St. Edward's day, a doubly blessed day henceforth. My Superior let +me be present; but now I must go. You did not see me, but I was present +through the whole." + +"Oh," said Charles, "what shall I say?--the face of God! As I knelt I +seemed to wish to say this, and this only, with the Patriarch, 'Now let +me die, since I have seen Thy Face.'" + +"You, dear Reding," said Father Aloysius, "have keen fresh feelings; +mine are blunted by familiarity." + +"No, Willis," he made answer, "you have taken the better part betimes, +while I have loitered. Too late have I known Thee, O Thou ancient Truth; +too late have I found Thee, First and only Fair." + +"All is well, except as sin makes it ill," said Father Aloysius; "if you +have to lament loss of time before conversion, I have to lament it +after. If you speak of delay, must not I of rashness? A good God +overrules all things. But I must away. Do you recollect my last words +when we parted in Devonshire? I have thought of them often since; they +were too true then. I said, 'Our ways divide.' They are different still, +yet they are the same. Whether we shall meet again here below, who +knows? but there will be a meeting ere long before the Throne of God, +and under the shadow of His Blessed Mother and all Saints. 'Deus +manifeste veniet, Deus noster, et non silebit.'" + +Reding took Father Aloysius's hand and kissed it; as he sank on his +knees the young priest made the sign of blessing over him. Then he +vanished through the door of the sacristy; and the new convert sought +his temporary cell, so happy in the Present, that he had no thoughts +either for the Past or the Future. + + +THE END. + + + + +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. +EDINBURGH AND LONDON + + + + +_CARDINAL NEWMAN'S WORKS._ + + +1. SERMONS. + +1-8. PAROCHIAL AND PLAIN SERMONS. (_Rivingtons._) + +9. SERMONS ON SUBJECTS OF THE DAY. (_Rivingtons._) + +10. UNIVERSITY SERMONS. (_Rivingtons._) + +11. SERMONS TO MIXED CONGREGATIONS. (_Burns & Oates._) + +12. OCCASIONAL SERMONS. (_Burns & Oates._) + + +2. TREATISES. + +13. ON THE DOCTRINE OF JUSTIFICATION. (_Rivingtons._) + +14. ON THE DEVELOPMENT OF CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. (_Pickering._) + +15. ON THE IDEA OF A UNIVERSITY. (_Pickering._) + +16. ON THE DOCTRINE OF ASSENT. (_Burns & Oates._) + + +3. ESSAYS. + +17. TWO ESSAYS ON MIRACLES. 1. Of Scripture. 2. Of Ecclesiastical +History. (_Pickering._) + +18. DISCUSSIONS AND ARGUMENTS. 1. How to accomplish it. 2. The +Antichrist of the Fathers. 3. Scripture and the Creed. 4. Tamworth +Reading-Room. 5. Who's to blame? 6. An Argument for Christianity. +(_Pickering._) + +19, 20. ESSAYS, CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL. TWO VOLUMES, WITH NOTES. 1. +Poetry. 2. Rationalism. 3. Apostolical Tradition. 4. De la Mennais. 5. +Palmer on Faith and Unity. 6. St. Ignatius. 7. Prospects of the Anglican +Church. 8. The Anglo-American Church. 9. Countess of Huntingdon. 10. +Catholicity of the Anglican Church. 11. The Antichrist of Protestants. +12. Milman's Christianity. 13. Reformation of the Eleventh Century. 14. +Private Judgment. 15. Davison. 16. Keble. (_Pickering._) + + +4. HISTORICAL. + +21-23. THREE VOLUMES. 1. The Turks. 2. Cicero. 3. Apollonius. 4. +Primitive Christianity. 5. Church of the Fathers. 6. St. Chrysostom. 7. +Theodoret. 8. St. Benedict. 9. Benedictine Schools. 10. Universities. +11. Northmen and Normans. 12. Medieval Oxford. 13. Convocation of +Canterbury. (_Pickering._) + + +5. THEOLOGICAL. + +24. THE ARIANS OF THE FOURTH CENTURY. (_Pickering._) + +25, 26. ANNOTATED TRANSLATION OF ATHANASIUS. TWO VOLUMES. (_Pickering._) + +27. TRACTS. 1. Dissertatiunculĉ. 2. On the Text of the Seven Epistles of +St. Ignatius. 3. Doctrinal Causes of Arianism. 4. Apollinarianism. 5. +St. Cyril's Formula. 6. Ordo de Tempore. 7. Douay Version of Scripture. +(_Pickering._) + + +6. POLEMICAL. + +28, 29. VIA MEDIA. TWO VOLUMES, WITH NOTES. 1st Vol. Prophetical Office +of the Church. 2d Vol. Occasional Letters and Tracts. (_Pickering._) + +30, 31. DIFFICULTIES OF ANGLICANS. TWO VOLUMES. 1st Vol. Twelve +Lectures. 2d Vol. Letters to Dr. Pusey concerning the Bl. Virgin, and to +the Duke of Norfolk in Defence of the Pope and Council. (_Burns & Oates, +and Pickering._) + +32. PRESENT POSITION OF CATHOLICS IN ENGLAND. (_Burns & Oates._) + +33. APOLOGIA PRO VITÂ SUÂ. (_Longmans._) + + +7. LITERARY. + +34. VERSES ON VARIOUS OCCASIONS. (_Burns & Oates._) + +35. LOSS AND GAIN. (_Burns & Oates, and Pickering._) + +36. CALLISTA. (_Burns & Oates._) + + +It is scarcely necessary to say that the Author submits all that he has +written to the judgment of the Church, whose gift and prerogative it is +to determine what is true and what is false in religious teaching. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Loss and Gain, by John Henry Newman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOSS AND GAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 24574-8.txt or 24574-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/5/7/24574/ + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Pilar Somoza Fernández and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian +Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Loss and Gain + The Story of a Convert + +Author: John Henry Newman + +Release Date: February 11, 2008 [EBook #24574] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOSS AND GAIN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Pilar Somoza Fernández and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian +Libraries) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="bbox"> +<p>Transcriber's Note: The Table of Contents has been added to this version. +Spelling mistakes have been left in the text to match the original, +except for obvious typos, marked <ins class="correction" title="text reads 'llike this'">like this</ins>.</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + + +<h1>LOSS AND GAIN:</h1> +<h2>THE STORY OF A CONVERT.</h2> + + +<h5 class="biggap">BY</h5> +<h2>JOHN HENRY NEWMAN,</h2> +<h5>OF THE ORATORY.</h5> + + +<h5 class="biggap">ADHUC MODICUM ALIQUANTULUM,<br /> +QUI VENTURUS EST, VENIET, ET NON TARDABIT.<br /> +JUSTUS AUTEM MEUS EX FIDE VIVIT.</h5> + +<h4 class="biggap">Eighth Edition.</h4> + +<h3 class="biggap">LONDON: BURNS AND OATES.</h3> +<h4>1881.</h4> + + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<h4>TO THE VERY REV.</h4> +<h2>CHARLES W. RUSSELL, D.D.,</h2> +<h4>PRESIDENT OF ST. PATRICK'S COLLEGE, MAYNOOTH,<br /> +&c. &c.</h4> + + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">My dear Dr. Russell</span>,—Now that at length I take the step of printing my +name in the Title-Page of this Volume, I trust I shall not be +encroaching on the kindness you have so long shown to me, if I venture +to follow it up by placing yours in the page which comes next, thus +associating myself with you, and recommending myself to my readers by +the association.</p> + +<p>Not that I am dreaming of bringing down upon you, in whole or part, the +criticisms, just or unjust, which lie against a literary attempt which +has in some quarters been thought out of keeping with my antecedents and +my position; but the warm and sympathetic interest which you took in +Oxford matters thirty years ago, and the benefits which I derived +personally from that interest, are reasons why I am desirous of +prefixing your name to a Tale, which, whatever its faults, at least is a +more intelligible and exact representation of the thoughts, sentiments, +and aspirations, then and there prevailing, than was to be found in the +anti-Catholic pamphlets, charges, sermons, reviews, and story-books of +the day.</p> + +<p>These reasons, too, must be my apology, should I seem to be asking your +acceptance of a Volume, which, over and above its intrinsic defects, is, +in its very subject and style, hardly commensurate with the theological +reputation and the ecclesiastical station of the person to whom it is +presented.</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>I am, my dear Dr. Russell,</p> + +<p class="center">Your affectionate friend,</p> + +<p class="sign"><span class="smcap">John H. Newman</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Oratory</span>, <i>Feb. 21, 1874</i>.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<h2>ADVERTISEMENT.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> following tale is not intended as a work of controversy in behalf of +the Catholic Religion; but as a description of what is understood by +few, viz. the course of thought and state of mind,—or rather one such +course and state,—which issues in conviction of its Divine origin.</p> + +<p>Nor is it founded on fact, to use the common phrase. It is not the +history of any individual mind among the recent converts to the Catholic +Church. The principal characters are imaginary; and the writer wishes to +disclaim personal allusion in any. It is with this view that he has +feigned ecclesiastical bodies and places, to avoid the chance, which +might otherwise occur, of unintentionally suggesting to the reader real +individuals, who were far from his thoughts.</p> + +<p>At the same time, free use has been made of sayings and doings which +were characteristic of the time and place in which the scene is laid. +And, moreover, when, as in a tale, a general truth or fact is exhibited +in individual specimens of it, it is impossible that the ideal +representation should not more or less coincide, in spite of the +author's endeavour, or even without his recognition, with its existing +instances or champions.</p> + +<p>It must also be added, to prevent a farther misconception, that no +proper representative is intended in this tale, of the religious +opinions which had lately so much influence in the University of Oxford.</p> + +<p><i>Feb. 21, 1848.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<h2>ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SIXTH EDITION.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">A tale</span>, directed against the Oxford converts to the Catholic Faith, was +sent from England to the author of this Volume in the summer of 1847, +when he was resident at Santa Croce in Rome. Its contents were as +wantonly and preposterously fanciful, as they were injurious to those +whose motives and actions it professed to represent; but a formal +criticism or grave notice of it seemed to him out of place.</p> + +<p>The suitable answer lay rather in the publication of a second tale; +drawn up with a stricter regard to truth and probability, and with at +least some personal knowledge of Oxford, and some perception of the +various aspects of the religious phenomenon, which the work in question +handled so rudely and so unskilfully.</p> + +<p>Especially was he desirous of dissipating the fog of pomposity and +solemn pretence, which its writer had thrown around the personages +introduced into it, by showing, as in a specimen, that those who were +smitten with love of the Catholic Church, were nevertheless as able to +write common-sense prose as other men.</p> + +<p>Under these circumstances "Loss and Gain" was given to the public.</p> + +<p><i>Feb. 21, 1874.</i></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">{1}</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<h2>LOSS AND GAIN.</h2> + +<h2>Table of Contents</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#Part_I"><b>Part I.</b></a></li> +<li class="ind"><b>CHAPTERS:</b> <a href="#one_I">I</a> +- <a href="#one_II">II</a> +- <a href="#one_III">III</a> +- <a href="#one_IV">IV</a> +- <a href="#one_V">V</a> +- <a href="#one_VI">VI</a> +- <a href="#one_VII">VII</a> +- <a href="#one_VIII">VIII</a> +- <a href="#one_IX">IX</a> +- <a href="#one_X">X</a> +- <a href="#one_XI">XI</a> +- <a href="#one_XII">XII</a> +- <a href="#one_XIII">XIII</a> +- <a href="#one_XIV">XIV</a> +- <a href="#one_XV">XV</a> +- <a href="#one_XVI">XVI</a> +- <a href="#one_XVII">XVII</a> +- <a href="#one_XVIII">XVIII</a></li> +<li><a href="#Part_II"><b>Part II.</b></a></li> +<li class="ind"><b>CHAPTERS:</b> <a href="#one_I">I</a> +- <a href="#two_II">II</a> +- <a href="#two_III">III</a> +- <a href="#two_IV">IV</a> +- <a href="#two_V">V</a> +- <a href="#two_VI">VI</a> +- <a href="#two_VII">VII</a> +- <a href="#two_VIII">VIII</a> +- <a href="#two_IX">IX</a> +- <a href="#two_X">X</a> +- <a href="#two_XI">XI</a> +- <a href="#two_XII">XII</a> +- <a href="#two_XIII">XIII</a> +- <a href="#two_XIV">XIV</a> +- <a href="#two_XV">XV</a> +- <a href="#two_XVI">XVI</a> +- <a href="#two_XVII">XVII</a> +- <a href="#two_XVIII">XVIII</a> +- <a href="#two_XIX">XIX</a> +- <a href="#two_XX">XX</a> +- <a href="#two_XXI">XXI</a></li> +<li><a href="#PART_III"><b>Part III.</b></a></li> +<li class="ind"><b>CHAPTERS:</b> <a href="#one_I">I</a> +- <a href="#three_II">II</a> +- <a href="#three_III">III</a> +- <a href="#three_IV">IV</a> +- <a href="#three_V">V</a> +- <a href="#three_VI">VI</a> +- <a href="#three_VII">VII</a> +- <a href="#three_VIII">VIII</a> +- <a href="#three_IX">IX</a> +- <a href="#three_X">X</a> +- <a href="#three_XI">XI</a></li> +</ul> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<h2><a name="Part_I" id="Part_I"></a>Part I.</h2> + +<h2><a name="one_I" id="one_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Charles Reding</span> was the only son of a clergyman, who was in possession of +a valuable benefice in a midland county. His father intended him for +orders, and sent him at a proper age to a public school. He had long +revolved in his mind the respective advantages and disadvantages of +public and private education, and had decided in favour of the former. +"Seclusion," he said, "is no security for virtue. There is no telling +what is in a boy's heart: he may look as open and happy as usual, and be +as kind and attentive, when there is a great deal wrong going on within. +The heart is a secret with its Maker; no one on earth can hope to get at +it or to touch it. I have a cure of souls; what do I really know of my +parishioners? Nothing; their hearts are sealed books to me. And this +dear boy, he comes close to me; he throws his arms round me, but his +soul is as much out of my sight as if he were at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">{2}</a></span> the antipodes. I am +not accusing him of reserve, dear fellow: his very love and reverence +for me keep him in a sort of charmed solitude. I cannot expect to get at +the bottom of him.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Each in his hidden sphere of bliss or woe,</div> +<div class="verse">Our hermit spirits dwell.'</div> +</div></div> + +<p>It is our lot here below. No one on earth can know Charles's secret +thoughts. Did I guard him here at home ever so well, yet, in due time, +it would be found that a serpent had crept into the heart of his +innocence. Boys do not fully know what is good and what is evil; they do +wrong things at first almost innocently. Novelty hides vice from them; +there is no one to warn them or give them rules; and they become slaves +of sin, while they are learning what sin is. They go to the University, +and suddenly plunge into excesses, the greater in proportion to their +inexperience. And, besides all this, I am not equal to the task of +forming so active and inquisitive a mind as his. He already asks +questions which I know not how to answer. So he shall go to a public +school. There he will get discipline at least, even if he has more of +trial: at least he will gain habits of self-command, manliness, and +circumspection; he will learn to use his eyes, and will find materials +to use them upon; and thus will be gradually trained for the liberty +which, any how, he must have when he goes to college."</p> + +<p>This was the more necessary, because, with many high excellences, +Charles was naturally timid and retiring, over-sensitive, and, though +lively and cheerful,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">{3}</a></span> yet not without a tinge of melancholy in his +character, which sometimes degenerated into mawkishness.</p> + +<p>To Eton, then, he went; and there had the good fortune to fall into the +hands of an excellent tutor, who, while he instructed him in the old +Church-of-England principles of Mant and Doyley, gave his mind a +religious impression, which secured him against the allurements of bad +company, whether at the school itself, or afterwards at Oxford. To that +celebrated seat of learning he was in due time transferred, being +entered at St. Saviour's College; and he is in his sixth term from +matriculation, and his fourth of residence, at the time our story opens.</p> + +<p>At Oxford, it is needless to say, he had found a great number of his +schoolfellows, but, it so happened, had found very few friends among +them. Some were too gay for him, and he had avoided them; others, with +whom he had been intimate at Eton, having high connections, had fairly +cut him on coming into residence, or, being entered at other colleges, +had lost sight of him. Almost everything depends at Oxford, in the +matter of acquaintance, on proximity of rooms. You choose your friend, +not so much by your tastes, as by your staircase. There is a story of a +London tradesman who lost custom after beautifying his premises, because +his entrance went up a step; and we all know how great is the difference +between open and shut doors when we walk along a street of shops. In a +university a youth's hours are portioned out to him. A regular man gets +up and goes to chapel, breakfasts, gets up his lectures, goes to +lecture, walks, dines; there is little to induce<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">{4}</a></span> him to mount any +staircase but his own; and if he does so, ten to one he finds the friend +from home whom he is seeking; not to say that freshmen, who naturally +have common feelings and interests, as naturally are allotted a +staircase in common. And thus it was that Charles Reding was brought +across William Sheffield, who had come into residence the same term as +himself.</p> + +<p>The minds of young people are pliable and elastic, and easily +accommodate themselves to any one they fall in with. They find grounds +of attraction both where they agree with one another and where they +differ; what is congenial to themselves creates sympathy; what is +correlative, or supplemental, creates admiration and esteem. And what is +thus begun is often continued in after-life by the force of habit and +the claims of memory. Thus, in the choice of friends, chance often does +for us as much as the most careful selection could have effected. What +was the character and degree of that friendship which sprang up between +the freshmen Reding and Sheffield, we need not here minutely explain: it +will be enough to say, that what they had in common was freshmanship, +good talents, and the back staircase; and that they differed in +this—that Sheffield had lived a good deal with people older than +himself, had read much in a desultory way, and easily picked up opinions +and facts, especially on controversies of the day, without laying +anything very much to heart; that he was ready, clear-sighted, +unembarrassed, and somewhat forward: Charles, on the other hand, had +little knowledge as yet of principles or their bearings, but understood +more deeply than Sheffield, and held more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">{5}</a></span> practically, what he had once +received; he was gentle and affectionate, and easily led by others, +except when duty clearly interfered. It should be added, that he had +fallen in with various religious denominations in his father's parish, +and had a general, though not a systematic, knowledge of their tenets. +What they were besides, will be seen as our narrative advances.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">{6}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_II" id="one_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">It</span> was a little past one <span class="smcap">P.M.</span> when Sheffield, passing Charles's door, +saw it open. The college servant had just entered with the usual +half-commons for luncheon, and was employed in making up the fire. +Sheffield followed him in, and found Charles in his cap and gown, +lounging on the arm of his easy-chair, and eating his bread and cheese. +Sheffield asked him if he slept, as well as ate and drank, "accoutred as +he was."</p> + +<p>"I am just going for a turn into the meadow," said Charles; "this is to +me the best time of the year: <i>nunc formosissimus annus</i>; everything is +beautiful; the laburnums are out, and the may. There is a greater +variety of trees there than in any other place I know hereabouts; and +the planes are so touching just now, with their small multitudinous +green hands half-opened; and there are two or three such fine dark +willows stretching over the Cherwell; I think some dryad inhabits them: +and, as you wind along, just over your right shoulder is the Long Walk, +with the Oxford buildings seen between the elms. They say there are dons +here who recollect when the foliage was unbroken, nay, when you might +walk under it in hard rain, and get<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">{7}</a></span> no wet. I know I got drenched there +the other day."</p> + +<p>Sheffield laughed, and said that Charles must put on his beaver, and +walk with him a different way. He wanted a good walk; his head was +stupid from his lectures; that old Jennings prosed so awfully upon +Paley, it made him quite ill. He had talked of the Apostles as neither +"deceivers nor deceived," of their "sensible miracles," and of their +"dying for their testimony," till he did not know whether he himself was +an <i>ens physiologicum</i> or a <i>totum metaphysicum</i>, when Jennings had +cruelly asked him to repeat Paley's argument; and because he had not +given it in Jennings' words, friend Jennings had pursed up his lips, and +gone through the whole again; so intent, in his wooden enthusiasm, on +his own analysis of it, that he did not hear the clock strike the hour; +and, in spite of the men's shuffling their feet, blowing their noses, +and looking at their watches, on he had gone for a good twenty minutes +past the time; and would have been going on even then, he verily +believed, but for an interposition only equalled by that of the geese at +the Capitol. For that, when he had got about half through his +recapitulation, and was stopping at the end of a sentence to see the +impression he was making, that uncouth fellow, Lively, moved by what +happy inspiration he did not know, suddenly broke in, apropos of +nothing, nodding his head, and speaking in a clear cackle, with, "Pray, +sir, what is your opinion of the infallibility of the Pope?" Upon which +every one but Jennings did laugh out: but he, <i>au contraire</i>, began to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">{8}</a></span> +look very black; and no one can tell what would have happened, had he +not cast his eyes by accident on his watch, on which he coloured, closed +his book, and <i>instanter</i> sent the whole lecture out of the room.</p> + +<p>Charles laughed in his turn, but added, "Yet, I assure you, Sheffield, +that Jennings, stiff and cold as he seems, is, I do believe, a very good +fellow at bottom. He has before now spoken to me with a good deal of +feeling, and has gone out of his way to do me favours. I see poor bodies +coming to him for charity continually; and they say that his sermons at +Holy Cross are excellent."</p> + +<p>Sheffield said he liked people to be natural, and hated that donnish +manner. What good could it do? and what did it mean?</p> + +<p>"That is what I call bigotry," answered Charles; "I am for taking every +one for what he is, and not for what he is not: one has this excellence, +another that; no one is everything. Why should we not drop what we don't +like, and admire what we like? This is the only way of getting through +life, the only true wisdom, and surely our duty into the bargain."</p> + +<p>Sheffield thought this regular prose, and unreal. "We must," he said, +"have a standard of things, else one good thing is as good as another. +But I can't stand here all day," he continued, "when we ought to be +walking." And he took off Charles's cap, and, placing his hat on him +instead, said, "Come, let us be going."</p> + +<p>"Then must I give up my meadow?" said Charles.</p> + +<p>"Of course you must," answered Sheffield; "you must take a beaver walk. +I want you to go as far as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">{9}</a></span> Oxley, a village some little way out, all +the vicars of which, sooner or later, are made bishops. Perhaps even +walking there may do us some good."</p> + +<p>The friends set out, from hat to boot in the most approved Oxford +bandbox-cut of trimness and prettiness. Sheffield was turning into the +High Street, when Reding stopped him: "It always annoys me," he said, +"to go down High Street in a beaver; one is sure to meet a proctor."</p> + +<p>"All those University dresses are great fudge," answered Sheffield; "how +are we the better for them? They are mere outside, and nothing else. +Besides, our gown is so hideously ugly."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't go along with your sweeping condemnation," answered +Charles; "this is a great place, and should have a dress. I declare, +when I first saw the procession of Heads at St. Mary's, it was quite +moving. First——"</p> + +<p>"Of course the pokers," interrupted Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"First the organ, and every one rising; then the Vice-Chancellor in red, +and his bow to the preacher, who turns to the pulpit; then all the Heads +in order; and lastly the Proctors. Meanwhile, you see the head of the +preacher slowly mounting up the steps; when he gets in, he shuts-to the +door, looks at the organ-loft to catch the psalm, and the voices strike +up."</p> + +<p>Sheffield laughed, and then said, "Well, I confess I agree with you in +your instance. The preacher is, or is supposed to be, a person of +talent; he is about to hold forth; the divines, the students of a great +University, are all there to listen. The pageant does but fitly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">{10}</a></span> +represent the great moral fact which is before us; I understand <i>this</i>. +I don't call <i>this</i> fudge; what I mean by fudge is, outside without +inside. Now I must say, the sermon itself, and not the least of all the +prayer before it—what do they call it?"</p> + +<p>"The bidding prayer," said Reding.</p> + +<p>"Well, both sermon and prayer are often arrant fudge. I don't often go +to University sermons, but I have gone often enough not to go again +without compulsion. The last preacher I heard was from the country. Oh, +it was wonderful! He began at the pitch of his voice, 'Ye shall pray.' +What stuff! 'Ye shall <i>pray</i>;' because old Latimer or Jewell said, 'Ye +shall praie,' therefore we must not say, 'Let us pray.' Presently he +brought out," continued Sheffield, assuming a pompous and up-and-down +tone, "'especially for that pure and apostolic branch of it +<i>established</i>,'—here the man rose on his toes, '<i>established</i> in these +dominions.' Next came, 'for our Sovereign Lady Victoria, Queen, Defender +of the Faith, in all causes and over all persons, ecclesiastical as well +as civil, within these her dominions, <i>supreme</i>'—an awful pause, with +an audible fall of the sermon-case on the cushion; as though nature did +not contain, as if the human mind could not sustain, a bigger thought. +Then followed, 'the pious and munificent founder,' in the same twang, +'of All Saints' and Leicester Colleges,' But his <i>chef-d'œuvre</i> was +his emphatic recognition of '<i>all</i> the doctors, <i>both</i> the proctors', as +if the numerical antithesis had a graphic power, and threw those +excellent personages into a charming <i>tableau vivant</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">{11}</a></span></p> + +<p>Charles was amused at all this; but he said in answer, that he never +heard a sermon but it was his own fault if he did not gain good from it; +and he quoted the words of his father, who, when he one day asked him if +so-and-so had not preached a very good sermon, "My dear Charles," his +father had said, "all sermons are good." The words, simple as they were, +had retained a hold on his memory.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, they had proceeded down the forbidden High Street, and were +crossing the bridge, when, on the opposite side, they saw before them a +tall, upright man, whom Sheffield had no difficulty in recognizing as a +bachelor of Nun's Hall, and a bore at least of the second magnitude. He +was in cap and gown, but went on his way, as if intending, in that +extraordinary guise, to take a country walk. He took the path which they +were going themselves, and they tried to keep behind him; but they +walked too briskly, and he too leisurely, to allow of that. It is very +difficult duly to delineate a bore in a narrative, for the very reason +that he <i>is</i> a bore. A tale must aim at condensation, but a bore acts in +solution. It is only on the long-run that he is ascertained. Then, +indeed, he is <i>felt</i>; he is oppressive; like the sirocco, which the +native detects at once, while a foreigner is often at fault. <i>Tenet +occiditque.</i> Did you hear him make but one speech, perhaps you would say +he was a pleasant, well-informed man; but when he never comes to an end, +or has one and the same prose every time you meet him, or keeps you +standing till you are fit to sink, or holds you fast when you wish to +keep an engagement, or hinders you listening to important +conversation,—then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">{12}</a></span> there is no mistake, the truth bursts on you, +<i>apparent diræ facies</i>, you are in the clutches of a bore. You may +yield, or you may flee; you cannot conquer. Hence it is clear that a +bore cannot be represented in a story, or the story would be the bore as +much as he. The reader, then, must believe this upright Mr. Bateman to +be what otherwise he might not discover, and thank us for our +consideration in not proving as well as asserting it.</p> + +<p>Sheffield bowed to him courteously, and would have proceeded on his way; +but Bateman, as became his nature, would not suffer it; he seized him. +"Are you disposed," he said, "to look into the pretty chapel we are +restoring on the common? It is quite a gem—in the purest style of the +fourteenth century. It was in a most filthy condition, a mere cow-house; +but we have made a subscription, and set it to rights."</p> + +<p>"We are bound for Oxley," Sheffield answered; "you would be taking us +out of our way."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it," said Bateman; "it's not a stone's throw from the +road; you must not refuse me. I'm sure you'll like it."</p> + +<p>He proceeded to give the history of the chapel—all it had been, all it +might have been, all it was not, all it was to be.</p> + +<p>"It is to be a real specimen of a Catholic chapel," he said; "we mean to +make the attempt of getting the Bishop to dedicate it to the Royal +Martyr—why should not we have our St. Charles as well as the +Romanists?—and it will be quite sweet to hear the vesper-bell tolling +over the sullen moor every evening, in all weathers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">{13}</a></span> and amid all the +changes and chances of this mortal life."</p> + +<p>Sheffield asked what congregation they expected to collect at that hour.</p> + +<p>"That's a low view," answered Bateman; "it does not signify at all. In +real Catholic churches the number of the congregation is nothing to the +purpose; service is for those who come, not for those who stay away."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sheffield, "I understand what that means when a Roman +Catholic says it; for a priest is supposed to offer sacrifice, which he +can do without a congregation as well as with one. And, again, Catholic +chapels often stand over the bodies of martyrs, or on some place of +miracle, as a record; but our service is 'Common Prayer,' and how can +you have that without a congregation?"</p> + +<p>Bateman replied that, even if members of the University did not drop in, +which he expected, at least the bell would be a memento far and near.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see," retorted Sheffield, "the use will be the reverse of what +you said just now; it is not for those that come, but for those who stay +away. The congregation is outside, not inside; it's an outside concern. +I once saw a tall church-tower—so it appeared from the road; but on the +sides you saw it was but a thin wall, made to look like a tower, in +order to give the church an imposing effect. Do run up such a bit of a +wall, and put the bell in it."</p> + +<p>"There's another reason," answered Bateman, "for restoring the chapel, +quite independent of the service.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">{14}</a></span> It has been a chapel from time +immemorial, and was consecrated by our Catholic forefathers."</p> + +<p>Sheffield argued that this would be as good a reason for keeping up the +Mass as for keeping up the chapel.</p> + +<p>"We do keep up the Mass," said Bateman; "we offer our Mass every Sunday, +according to the rite of the English Cyprian, as honest Peter Heylin +calls him; what would you have more?"</p> + +<p>Whether Sheffield understood this or no, at least it was beyond Charles. +Was the Common Prayer the English Mass, or the Communion-service, or the +Litany, or the sermon, or any part of these? or were Bateman's words +really a confession that there were clergymen who actually said the +Popish Mass once a week? Bateman's precise meaning, however, is lost to +posterity; for they had by this time arrived at the door of the chapel. +It had once been the chapel of an almshouse; a small farmhouse stood +near; but, for population, it was plain no "church accommodation" was +wanted. Before entering, Charles hung back, and whispered to his friend +that he did not know Bateman. An introduction, in consequence, took +place. "Reding of St. Saviour's—Bateman of Nun's Hall;" after which +ceremony, in place of holy water, they managed to enter the chapel in +company.</p> + +<p>It was as pretty a building as Bateman had led them to expect, and very +prettily done up. There was a stone altar in the best style, a credence +table, a piscina, what looked like a tabernacle, and a couple of +handsome brass candlesticks. Charles asked the use of the piscina—he +did not know its name—and was told that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">{15}</a></span> there was always a piscina in +the old churches in England, and that there could be no proper +restoration without it. Next he asked the meaning of the beautifully +wrought closet or recess above the altar; and received for answer, that +"our sister churches of the Roman obedience always had a tabernacle for +reserving the consecrated bread." Here Charles was brought to a stand: +on which Sheffield asked the use of the niches; and was told by Bateman +that images of saints were forbidden by the canon, but that his friends, +in all these matters, did what they could. Lastly, he asked the meaning +of the candlesticks; and was told that, Catholicly-minded as their +Bishop was, they had some fear lest he would object to altar lights in +service—at least at first: but it was plain that the <i>use</i> of the +candlesticks was to hold candles. Having had their fill of gazing and +admiring, they turned to proceed on their walk, but could not get off an +invitation to breakfast, in a few days, at Bateman's lodgings in the +Turl.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">{16}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_III" id="one_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Neither</span> of the friends had what are called <i>views</i> in religion; by which +expression we do not here signify that neither had taken up a certain +line of opinion, though this was the case also; but that neither of +them—how could they at their age?—had placed his religion on an +intellectual basis. It may be as well to state more distinctly what a +"view" is, what it is to be "viewy," and what is the state of those who +have no "views." When, then; men for the first time look upon the world +of politics or religion, all that they find there meets their mind's eye +as a landscape addresses itself for the first time to a person who has +just gained his bodily sight. One thing is as far off as another; there +is no perspective. The connection of fact with fact, truth with truth, +the bearing of fact upon truth, and truth upon fact, what leads to what, +what are points primary and what secondary,—all this they have yet to +learn. It is all a new science to them, and they do not even know their +ignorance of it. Moreover, the world of to-day has no connection in +their minds with the world of yesterday; time is not a stream, but +stands before them round and full, like the moon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">{17}</a></span> They do not know what +happened ten years ago, much less the annals of a century; the past does +not live to them in the present; they do not understand the worth of +contested points; names have no associations for them, and persons +kindle no recollections. They hear of men, and things, and projects, and +struggles, and principles; but everything comes and goes like the wind, +nothing makes an impression, nothing penetrates, nothing has its place +in their minds. They locate nothing; they have no system. They hear and +they forget; or they just recollect what they have once heard, they +can't tell where. Thus they have no consistency in their arguments; that +is, they argue one way to-day, and not exactly the other way to-morrow, +but indirectly the other way, at random. Their lines of argument +diverge; nothing comes to a point; there is no one centre in which their +mind sits, on which their judgment of men and things proceeds. This is +the state of many men all through life; and miserable politicians or +Churchmen they make, unless by good luck they are in safe hands, and +ruled by others, or are pledged to a course. Else they are at the mercy +of the winds and waves; and, without being Radical, Whig, Tory, or +Conservative, High Church or Low Church, they do Whig acts, Tory acts, +Catholic acts, and heretical acts, as the fit takes them, or as events +or parties drive them. And sometimes, when their self-importance is +hurt, they take refuge in the idea that all this is a proof that they +are unfettered, moderate, dispassionate, that they observe the mean, +that they are "no party men;" when they are, in fact, the most helpless +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">{18}</a></span> slaves; for our strength in this world is, to be the subjects of the +reason, and our liberty, to be captives of the truth.</p> + +<p>Now Charles Reding, a youth of twenty, could not be supposed to have +much of a view in religion or politics; but no clever man allows himself +to judge of things simply at hap-hazard; he is obliged, from a sort of +self-respect, to have some rule or other, true or false; and Charles was +very fond of the maxim, which he has already enunciated, that we must +measure people by what they are, and not by what they are not. He had a +great notion of loving every one—of looking kindly on every one; he was +pierced with the sentiment which he had seen in a popular volume of +poetry, that—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div class="verseind4">"Christian souls, ...</div> +<div class="verse">Though worn and soil'd with sinful clay,</div> +<div class="verse">Are yet, to eyes that see them true,</div> +<div class="verse">All glistening with baptismal dew."</div> +</div></div> + +<p>He liked, as he walked along the road, and met labourer or horseman, +gentleman or beggar, to say to himself, "He is a Christian." And when he +came to Oxford, he came there with an enthusiasm so simple and warm as +to be almost childish. He reverenced even the velvet of the Pro.; nay, +the cocked hat which preceded the Preacher had its claim on his +deferential regard. Without being himself a poet, he was in the season +of poetry, in the sweet spring-time, when the year is most beautiful, +because it is new. Novelty was beauty to a heart so open and cheerful as +his; not only because it was novelty, and had its proper charm as such, +but because when we first see things, we see them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">{19}</a></span> in a "gay confusion," +which is a principal element of the poetical. As time goes on, and we +number and sort and measure things—as we gain views—we advance towards +philosophy and truth, but we recede from poetry.</p> + +<p>When we ourselves were young, we once on a time walked on a hot +summer-day from Oxford to Newington—a dull road, as any one who has +gone it knows; yet it was new to us; and we protest to you, reader, +believe it or not, laugh or not, as you will, to us it seemed on that +occasion quite touchingly beautiful; and a soft melancholy came over us, +of which the shadows fall even now, when we look back on that dusty, +weary journey. And why? because every object which met us was unknown +and full of mystery. A tree or two in the distance seemed the beginning +of a great wood, or park, stretching endlessly; a hill implied a vale +beyond, with that vale's history; the bye-lanes, with their green +hedges, wound and vanished, yet were not lost to the imagination. Such +was our first journey; but when we had gone it several times, the mind +refused to act, the scene ceased to enchant, stern reality alone +remained; and we thought it one of the most tiresome, odious roads we +ever had occasion to traverse.</p> + +<p>But to return to our story. Such was Reding. But Sheffield, on the other +hand, without possessing any real view of things more than Charles, was, +at this time, fonder of hunting for views, and more in danger of taking +up false ones. That is, he was "viewy," in a bad sense of the word. He +was not satisfied intellectually with things as they are; he was +critical,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">{20}</a></span> impatient to reduce things to system, pushed principles too +far, was fond of argument, partly from pleasure in the exercise, partly +because he was perplexed, though he did not lay anything very much to +heart.</p> + +<p>They neither of them felt any special interest in the controversy going +on in the University and country about High and Low Church. Sheffield +had a sort of contempt for it; and Reding felt it to be bad taste to be +unusual or prominent in anything. An Eton acquaintance had asked him to +go and hear one of the principal preachers of the Catholic party, and +offered to introduce him; but he had declined it. He did not like, he +said, mixing himself up with party; he had come to Oxford to get his +degree, and not to take up opinions; he thought his father would not +relish it; and, moreover, he felt some little repugnance to such +opinions and such people, under the notion that the authorities of the +University were opposed to the whole movement. He could not help looking +at its leaders as demagogues; and towards demagogues he felt an +unmeasured aversion and contempt. He did not see why clergymen, however +respectable, should be collecting undergraduates about them; and he +heard stories of their way of going on which did not please him. +Moreover, he did not like the specimens of their followers whom he fell +in with; they were forward, or they "talked strong," as it was called; +did ridiculous, extravagant acts; and sometimes neglected their college +duties for things which did not concern them. He was unfortunate, +certainly: for this is a very unfair account of the most exemplary men +of that day, who doubtless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">{21}</a></span> are still, as clergymen or laymen, the +strength of the Anglican Church; but in all collections of men, the +straw and rubbish (as Lord Bacon says) float on the top, while gold and +jewels sink and are hidden. Or, what is more apposite still, many men, +or most men, are a compound of precious and worthless together, and +their worthless swims, and their precious lies at the bottom.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">{22}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_IV" id="one_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Bateman</span> was one of these composite characters: he had much good and much +cleverness in him; but he was absurd, and he afforded a subject of +conversation to the two friends as they proceeded on their walk. "I wish +there was less of fudge and humbug everywhere," said Sheffield; "one +might shovel off cartloads from this place, and not miss it."</p> + +<p>"If you had your way," answered Charles, "you would scrape off the roads +till there was nothing to walk on. We are forced to walk on what you +call humbug; we put it under our feet, but we use it."</p> + +<p>"I cannot think that; it's like doing evil that good may come. I see +shams everywhere. I go into St. Mary's, and I hear men spouting out +commonplaces in a deep or a shrill voice, or with slow, clear, quiet +emphasis and significant eyes—as that Bampton preacher not long ago, +who assured us, apropos of the resurrection of the body, that 'all +attempts to resuscitate the inanimate corpse by natural methods had +hitherto been experimentally abortive.' I go into the place where +degrees are given—the Convocation, I think—and there one hears a deal +of unmeaning Latin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">{23}</a></span> for hours, graces, dispensations, and proctors +walking up and down for nothing; all in order to keep up a sort of ghost +of things passed away for centuries, while the real work might be done +in a quarter of an hour. I fall in with this Bateman, and he talks to me +of rood-lofts without roods, and piscinæ without water, and niches +without images, and candlesticks without lights, and masses without +Popery; till I feel, with Shakespeare, that 'all the world's a stage.' +Well, I go to Shaw, Turner, and Brown, very different men, pupils of Dr. +Gloucester—you know whom I mean—and they tell us that we ought to put +up crucifixes by the wayside, in order to excite religious feeling."</p> + +<p>"Well, I really think you are hard on all these people," said Charles; +"it is all very much like declamation; you would destroy externals of +every kind. You are like the man in one of Miss Edgeworth's novels, who +shut his ears to the music that he might laugh at the dancers."</p> + +<p>"What is the music to which I close my ears?" asked Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"To the meaning of those various acts," answered Charles; "the pious +feeling which accompanies the sight of the image is the music."</p> + +<p>"To those who have the pious feeling, certainly," said Sheffield; "but +to put up images in England in order to create the feeling is like +dancing to create music."</p> + +<p>"I think you are hard upon England," replied Charles; "we are a +religious people."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will put it differently: do <i>you</i> like music?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">{24}</a></span></p> + +<p>"You ought to know," said Charles, "whom I have frightened so often with +my fiddle."</p> + +<p>"Do you like dancing?"</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth," said Charles, "I don't."</p> + +<p>"Nor do I," said Sheffield; "it makes me laugh to think what I have +done, when a boy, to escape dancing; there is something so absurd in it; +and one had to be civil and to duck to young girls who were either prim +or pert. I have behaved quite rudely to them sometimes, and then have +been annoyed at my ungentlemanlikeness, and not known how to get out of +the scrape."</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't know we were so like each other in anything," said +Charles; "oh, the misery I have endured, in having to stand up to dance, +and to walk about with a partner!—everybody looking at me, and I so +awkward. It has been a torture to me days before and after."</p> + +<p>They had by this time come up to the foot of the rough rising ground +which leads to the sort of table-land on the edge of which Oxley is +placed; and they stood still awhile to see some equestrians take the +hurdles. They then mounted the hill, and looked back upon Oxford.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you call those beautiful spires and towers a sham," said +Charles, "because you see their tops and not their bottoms?"</p> + +<p>"Whereabouts were we in our argument?" said the other, reminded that +they had been wandering from it for the last ten minutes. "Oh, I +recollect; I know what I was at. I was saying that you liked music, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">{25}</a></span> +didn't like dancing; music leads another person to dance, but not you; +and dancing does not increase but diminishes the intensity of the +pleasure you find in music. In like manner, it is a mere piece of +pedantry to make a religious nation, like the English, more religious by +placing images in the streets; this is not the English way, and only +offends us. If it were our way, it would come naturally without any one +telling us. As music incites to dancing, so religion would lead to +images; but as dancing does not improve music to those who do not like +dancing, so ceremonies do not improve religion to those who do not like +ceremonies."</p> + +<p>"Then do you mean," said Charles, "that the English Romanists are shams, +because they use crucifixes?"</p> + +<p>"Stop there," said Sheffield; "now you are getting upon a different +subject. They believe that there is <i>virtue</i> in images; that indeed is +absurd in them, but it makes them quite consistent in honouring them. +They do not put up images as outward shows, merely to create feelings in +the minds of beholders, as Gloucester would do, but they in good, +downright earnest worship images, as being more than they seem, as being +not a mere outside show. They pay them a religious worship, as having +been handled by great saints years ago, as having been used in +pestilences, as having wrought miracles, as having moved their eyes or +bowed their heads; or, at least, as having been blessed by the priest, +and been brought into connection with invisible grace. This is +superstitious, but it is real."</p> + +<p>Charles was not satisfied. "An image is a mode of teaching," he said; +"do you mean to say that a person<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">{26}</a></span> is a sham merely because he mistakes +the particular mode of teaching best suited to his own country?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say that Dr. Gloucester was a sham," answered Sheffield; "but +that mode of teaching of his was among Protestants a sham and a humbug."</p> + +<p>"But this principle will carry you too far, and destroy itself," said +Charles. "Don't you recollect what Thompson quoted the other day out of +Aristotle, which he had lately begun in lecture with Vincent, and which +we thought so acute—that habits are created by those very acts in which +they manifest themselves when created? We learn to swim well by trying +to swim. Now Bateman, doubtless, wishes to <i>introduce</i> piscinæ and +tabernacles; and to wait, before beginning, <i>till</i> they are received, is +like not going into the water till you can swim."</p> + +<p>"Well, but what is Bateman the better when his piscinæ are universal?" +asked Sheffield; "what does it <i>mean</i>? In the Romish Church it has a +use, I know—I don't know what—but it comes into the Mass. But if +Bateman makes piscinæ universal among us, what has he achieved but the +reign of a universal humbug?"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Sheffield," answered Reding, "consider how many things +there are which, in the course of time, have altered their original +meaning, and yet have a meaning, though a changed one, still. The +judge's wig is no sham, yet it has a history. The Queen, at her +coronation, is said to wear a Roman Catholic vestment, is that a sham? +Does it not still typify and impress upon us the 'divinity that doth +hedge a king,' though it has lost the very meaning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">{27}</a></span> which the Church of +Rome gave it? Or are you of the number of those, who, according to the +witticism, think majesty, when deprived of its externals, a jest?"</p> + +<p>"Then you defend the introduction of unmeaning piscinæ and +candlesticks?"</p> + +<p>"I think," answered Charles, "that there's a great difference between +reviving and retaining; it may be natural to retain, even while the use +fails, unnatural to revive when it has failed; but this is a question of +discretion and judgment."</p> + +<p>"Then you give it against Bateman?" said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>A slight pause ensued; then Charles added, "But perhaps these men +actually do wish to introduce the realities as well as the externals: +perhaps they wish to use the piscina as well as to have it ... +Sheffield," he continued abruptly, "why are not canonicals a sham, if +piscinæ are shams?"</p> + +<p>"Canonicals," said Sheffield, as if thinking about them; "no, canonicals +are no sham; for preaching, I suppose, is the highest ordinance in our +Church, and has the richest dress. The robes of a great preacher cost, I +know, many pounds; for there was one near us who, on leaving, had a +present from the ladies of an entire set, and a dozen pair of worked +slippers into the bargain. But it's all fitting, if preaching is the +great office of the clergy. Next comes the Sacrament, and has the +surplice and hood. And hood," he repeated, musing; "what's that for? no, +it's the scarf. The hood is worn in the University pulpit; what is the +scarf?—it belongs to chaplains, I believe, that is, to <i>persons</i>; I +can't make a view out of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">{28}</a></span></p> + +<p>"My dear Sheffield," said Charles, "you have cut your own throat. Here +you have been trying to give a sense to the clerical dress, and cannot; +are you then prepared to call it a sham? Answer me this single +question—Why does a clergyman wear a surplice when he reads prayers? +Nay, I will put it more simply—Why can only a clergyman read prayers in +church?—Why cannot I?"</p> + +<p>Sheffield hesitated, and looked serious. "Do you know," he said, "you +have just pitched on Jeremy Bentham's objection. In his 'Church of +Englandism' he proposes, if I recollect rightly, that a parish-boy +should be taught to read the Liturgy; and he asks, Why send a person to +the University for three or four years at an enormous expense, why teach +him Latin and Greek, on purpose to read what any boy could be taught to +read at a dame's school? What is the <i>virtue</i> of a clergyman's reading? +Something of this kind, Bentham says; and," he added, slowly, "to tell +the truth, <i>I</i> don't know how to answer him."</p> + +<p>Reding was surprised, and shocked, and puzzled too; he did not know what +to say; when the conversation was, perhaps fortunately, interrupted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">{29}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_V" id="one_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Every</span> year brings changes and reforms. We do not know what is the state +of Oxley Church now; it may have rood-loft, piscina, sedilia, all new; +or it may be reformed backwards, the seats on principle turning from the +Communion-table, and the pulpit planted in the middle of the aisle; but +at the time when these two young men walked through the churchyard, +there was nothing very good or very bad to attract them within the +building; and they were passing on, when they observed, coming out of +the church, what Sheffield called an elderly don, a fellow of a college, +whom Charles knew. He was a man of family, and had some little property +of his own, had been a contemporary of his father's at the University, +and had from time to time been a guest at the parsonage. Charles had, in +consequence, known him from a boy; and now, since he came into +residence, he had, as was natural, received many small attentions from +him. Once, when he was late for his own hall, he had given him his +dinner in his rooms; he had taken him out on a fishing expedition +towards Faringdon; and had promised him tickets for some ladies, +lionesses of his, who were coming up to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">{30}</a></span> the Commemoration. He was a +shrewd, easy-tempered, free-spoken man, of small desires and no +ambition; of no very keen sensibilities or romantic delicacies, and very +little religious pretension; that is, though unexceptionable in his +deportment, he hated the show of religion, and was impatient at those +who affected it. He had known the University for thirty years, and +formed a right estimate of most things in it. He had come out to Oxley +to take a funeral for a friend, and was now returning home. He hallooed +to Charles, who, though feeling at first awkward on finding himself with +two such different friends and in two such different relations, was, +after a time, partially restored to himself by the unconcern of Mr. +Malcolm; and the three walked home together. Yet, even to the last, he +did not quite know how and where to walk, and how to carry himself, +particularly when they got near Oxford, and he fell in with various +parties who greeted him in passing.</p> + +<p>Charles, by way of remark, said they had been looking in at a pretty +little chapel on the common, which was now in the course of repair. Mr. +Malcolm laughed. "So, Charles," he said, "<i>you're</i> bit with the new +fashion."</p> + +<p>Charles coloured, and asked, "What fashion?" adding, that a friend, by +accident, had taken them in.</p> + +<p>"You ask what fashion," said Mr. Malcolm; "why, the newest, latest +fashion. This is a place of fashions; there have been many fashions in +my time. The greater part of the residents, that is, the boys, change +once in three years; the fellows and tutors, perhaps, in half a dozen; +and every generation has its own fashion. There is no principle of +stability in Oxford, except the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">{31}</a></span> Heads, and they are always the same, +and always will be the same to the end of the chapter. What is in now," +he asked, "among you youngsters—drinking or cigars?"</p> + +<p>Charles laughed modestly, and said he hoped drinking had gone out +everywhere.</p> + +<p>"Worse things may come in," said Mr. Malcolm; "but there are fashions +everywhere. There was once a spouting club, perhaps it is in favour +still; before it was the music-room. Once geology was all the rage; now +it is theology; soon it will be architecture, or medieval antiquities, +or editions and codices. Each wears out in its turn; all depends on one +or two active men; but the secretary takes a wife, or the professor gets +a stall; and then the meetings are called irregularly, and nothing is +done in them, and so gradually the affair dwindles and dies."</p> + +<p>Sheffield asked whether the present movement had not spread too widely +through the country for such a termination; he did not know much about +it himself, but the papers were full of it, and it was the talk of every +neighbourhood; it was not confined to Oxford.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about the country," said Mr. Malcolm, "that is a large +question; but it has not the elements of stability here. These gentlemen +will take livings and marry, and that will be the end of the business. I +am not speaking against them; they are, I believe, very respectable men; +but they are riding on the spring-tide of a fashion."</p> + +<p>Charles said it was a nuisance to see the party-spirit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">{32}</a></span> it introduced. +Oxford ought to be a place of quiet and study; peace and the Muses +always went together; whereas there was talk, talk, in every quarter. A +man could not go about his duties in a natural way, and take every one +as he came, but was obliged to take part in questions, and to consider +points which he might wish to put from him, and must sport an opinion +when he really had none to give.</p> + +<p>Mr. Malcolm assented in a half-absent way, looking at the view before +him, and seemingly enjoying it. "People call this county ugly," said he, +"and perhaps it is; but whether I am used to it or no, I always am +pleased with it. The lights are always new; and thus the landscape, if +it deserves the name, is always presented in a new dress. I have known +Shotover there take the most opposite hues, sometimes purple, sometimes +a bright saffron or tawny orange." Here he stopped: "Yes, you speak of +party-spirit; very true, there's a good deal of it.... No, I don't think +there's much," he continued, rousing; "certainly there is more division +just at this minute in Oxford, but there always is division, always +rivalry. The separate societies have their own interests and honour to +maintain, and quarrel, as the orders do in the Church of Rome. No, +that's too grand a comparison; rather, Oxford is like an almshouse for +clergymen's widows. Self-importance, jealousy, tittle-tattle are the +order of the day. It has always been so in my time. Two great ladies, +Mrs. Vice-Chancellor and Mrs. Divinity-Professor, can't agree, and have +followings respectively: or Vice-Chancellor himself, being a new broom, +sweeps all the young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">{33}</a></span> Masters clean out of Convocation House, to their +great indignation: or Mr. Slaney, Dean of St. Peter's, does not scruple +to say in a stage-coach that Mr. Wood is no scholar; on which the said +Wood calls him in return 'slanderous Slaney;' or the elderly Mr. Barge, +late Senior Fellow of St. Michael's, thinks that his pretty bride has +not been received with due honours; or Dr. Crotchet is for years kept +out of his destined bishopric by a sinister influence; or Mr. Professor +Carraway has been infamously shown up, in the <i>Edinburgh</i>, by an idle +fellow whom he plucked in the schools; or (<i>majora movemus</i>) three +colleges interchange a mortal vow of opposition to a fourth; or the +young working Masters conspire against the Heads. Now, however, we are +improving; if we must quarrel, let it be the rivalry of intellect and +conscience, rather than of interest or temper; let us contend for +things, not for shadows."</p> + +<p>Sheffield was pleased at this, and ventured to say that the present +state of things was more real, and therefore more healthy. Mr. Malcolm +did not seem to hear him, for he did not reply; and, as they were now +approaching the bridge again, the conversation stopped. Sheffield looked +slily at Charles, as Mr. Malcolm proceeded with them up High Street; and +both of them had the triumph and the amusement of being convoyed safely +past a proctor, who was patrolling it, under the protection of a +Master.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">{34}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_VI" id="one_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> walk to Oxley had not been the first or the second occasion on which +Charles had, in one shape or other, encountered Sheffield's views about +realities and shams; and his preachments had begun to make an impression +on him; that is, he felt that there was truth in them at bottom, and a +truth new to him. He was not a person to let a truth sleep in his mind; +though it did not vegetate very quickly, it was sure ultimately to be +pursued into its consequences, and to affect his existing opinions. In +the instance before us, he saw Sheffield's principle was more or less +antagonistic to his own favourite maxim, that it was a duty to be +pleased with every one. Contradictions could not both be real: when an +affirmative was true, a negative was false. All doctrines could not be +equally sound: there was a right and a wrong. The theory of dogmatic +truth, as opposed to latitudinarianism (he did not know their names or +their history, or suspect what was going on within him), had in the +course of these his first terms, gradually begun to energise in his +mind. Let him but see the absurdities of the latitudinarian principle, +when carried out, and he is likely to be still more opposed to it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">{35}</a></span></p> + +<p>Bateman, among his peculiarities, had a notion that bringing persons of +contrary sentiments together was the likeliest way of making a party +agreeable, or at least useful. He had done his best to give his +breakfast, to which our friends were invited, this element of +perfection; not, however, to his own satisfaction; for with all his +efforts, he had but picked up Mr. Freeborn, a young Evangelical Master, +with whom Sheffield was acquainted; a sharp, but not very wise freshman, +who, having been spoiled at home, and having plenty of money, professed +to be <i>æsthetic</i>, and kept his college authorities in a perpetual fidget +lest he should some morning wake up a Papist; and a friend of his, a +nice, modest-looking youth, who, like a mouse, had keen darting eyes, +and ate his bread and butter in absolute silence.</p> + +<p>They had hardly seated themselves, and Sheffield was pouring out coffee, +and a plate of muffins was going round, and Bateman was engaged, +saucepan in hand, in the operation of landing his eggs, now boiled, upon +the table, when our flighty youth, whose name was White, observed how +beautiful the Catholic custom was of making eggs the emblem of the +Easter-festival. "It is truly Catholic," said he; "for it is retained in +parts of England, you have it in Russia, and in Rome itself, where an +egg is served up on every plate through the Easter-week, after being, I +believe, blessed; and it is as expressive and significant as it is +Catholic."</p> + +<p>"Beautiful indeed!" said their host; "so pretty, so sweet; I wonder +whether our Reformers thought of it, or the profound Hooker,—he was +full of types—or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">{36}</a></span> Jewell. You recollect the staff Jewell gave Hooker: +that was a type. It was like the sending of Elisha's staff by his +servant to the dead child."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, dear Bateman," cried Sheffield, "you are making Hooker +Gehazi!"</p> + +<p>"That's just the upshot of such trifling," said Mr. Freeborn; "you never +know where to find it; it proves anything, and disproves anything."</p> + +<p>"That is only till it's sanctioned," said White; "When the Catholic +Church sanctions it, we're safe."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we're safe," said Bateman; "it's safe when it's Catholic."</p> + +<p>"Yes," continued White, "things change their nature altogether when they +are taken up by the Catholic Church: that's how we are allowed to do +evil that good may come."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Why," said White, "the Church makes evil good."</p> + +<p>"My dear White," said Bateman gravely, "that's going too far; it is +indeed."</p> + +<p>Mr. Freeborn suspended his breakfast operations, and sat back in his +chair.</p> + +<p>"Why," continued White, "is not idolatry wrong—yet image-worship is +right?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Freeborn was in a state of collapse.</p> + +<p>"That's a bad instance, White," said Sheffield; "there <i>are</i> people in +the world who are uncatholic enough to think image-worship is wrong, as +well as idolatry."</p> + +<p>"A mere Jesuitical distinction," said Freeborn with emotion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">{37}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," said White, who did not seem in great awe of the young M.A., +though some years, of course, his senior, "I will take a better +instance: who does not know that baptism gives grace? yet there were +heathen baptismal rites, which, of course, were devilish."</p> + +<p>"I should not be disposed, Mr. White, to grant you so much as you would +wish," said Freeborn, "about the virtue of baptism."</p> + +<p>"Not about Christian baptism?" asked White.</p> + +<p>"It is easy," answered Freeborn, "to mistake the sign for the thing +signified."</p> + +<p>"Not about Catholic baptism?" repeated White.</p> + +<p>"Catholic baptism is a mere deceit and delusion," retorted Mr. Freeborn.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear Freeborn," interposed Bateman, "now <i>you</i> are going too +far; you are indeed."</p> + +<p>"Catholic, Catholic—I don't know what you mean," said Freeborn.</p> + +<p>"I mean," said White, "the baptism of the one Catholic Church of which +the Creed speaks: it's quite intelligible."</p> + +<p>"But what do you mean by the Catholic Church?" asked Freeborn.</p> + +<p>"The Anglican," answered Bateman.</p> + +<p>"The Roman," answered White; both in the same breath.</p> + +<p>There was a general laugh.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to laugh at," said Bateman; "Anglican and Roman are +one."</p> + +<p>"One! impossible," cried Sheffield.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">{38}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Much worse than impossible," observed Mr. Freeborn.</p> + +<p>"I should make a distinction," said Bateman: "I should say, they are +one, except the corruptions of the Romish Church."</p> + +<p>"That is, they are one, except where they differ," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"Precisely so," said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Rather, <i>I</i> should say," objected Mr. Freeborn, "two, except where they +agree."</p> + +<p>"That's just the issue," said Sheffield; "Bateman says that the Churches +are one except when they are two; and Freeborn says that they are two +except when they are one."</p> + +<p>It was a relief at this moment that the cook's boy came in with a dish +of hot sausages; but though a relief, it was not a diversion; the +conversation proceeded. Two persons did not like it; Freeborn, who was +simply disgusted at the doctrine, and Reding, who thought it a bore; yet +it was the bad luck of Freeborn forthwith to set Charles against him, as +well as the rest, and to remove the repugnance which he had to engage in +the dispute. Freeborn, in fact, thought theology itself a mistake, as +substituting, as he considered, worthless intellectual notions for the +vital truths of religion; so he now went on to observe, putting down his +knife and fork, that it really was to him inconceivable, that real +religion should depend on metaphysical distinctions, or outward +observances; that it was quite a different thing in Scripture; that +Scripture said much of faith and holiness, but hardly a word<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">{39}</a></span> about +Churches and forms. He proceeded to say that it was the great and evil +tendency of the human mind to interpose between itself and its Creator +some self-invented mediator, and it did not matter at all whether that +human device was a rite, or a creed, or a form of prayer, or good works, +or communion with particular Churches—all were but "flattering unctions +to the soul," if they were considered necessary; the only safe way of +using them was to use them with the feeling that you might dispense with +them; that none of them went to the root of the matter, for that faith, +that is, firm belief that God had forgiven you, was the one thing +needful; that where that one thing was present, everything else was +superfluous; that where it was wanting, nothing else availed. So +strongly did he hold this, that (he confessed he put it pointedly, but +still not untruly), where true faith was present, a person might be +anything in profession; an Arminian, a Calvinist, an Episcopalian, a +Presbyterian, a Swedenborgian—nay, a Unitarian—he would go further, +looking at White, a Papist, yet be in a state of salvation.</p> + +<p>Freeborn came out rather more strongly than in his sober moments he +would have approved; but he was a little irritated, and wished to have +his turn of speaking. It was altogether a great testification.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for your liberality to the poor Papists," said White; "it +seems they are safe if they are hypocrites, professing to be Catholics, +while they are Protestants in heart."</p> + +<p>"Unitarians, too," said Sheffield, "are debtors to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">{40}</a></span> your liberality; it +seems a man need not fear to believe too little, so that he feels a good +deal."</p> + +<p>"Rather," said White, "if he believes himself forgiven, he need not +believe anything else."</p> + +<p>Reding put in his word; he said that in the Prayer Book, belief in the +Holy Trinity was represented, not as an accident, but as "before all +things" necessary to salvation.</p> + +<p>"That's not a fair answer, Reding," said Sheffield; "what Mr. Freeborn +observed was, that there's no creed in the Bible; and you answer that +there is a creed in the Prayer Book."</p> + +<p>"Then the Bible says one thing, and the Prayer Book another," said +Bateman.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Freeborn; "The Prayer Book only <i>deduces</i> from Scripture; +the Athanasian Creed is a human invention; true, but human, and to be +received, as one of the Articles expressly says, because 'founded on +Scripture.' Creeds are useful in their place, so is the Church; but +neither Creed nor Church is religion."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you make so much of your doctrine of 'faith only'?" said +Bateman; "for that is not in Scripture, and is but a human deduction."</p> + +<p>"<i>My</i> doctrine!" cried Freeborn; "why it's in the Articles; the Articles +expressly say that we are justified by faith only."</p> + +<p>"The Articles are not Scripture any more than the Prayer Book," said +Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"Nor do the Articles say that the doctrine they propound is necessary +for salvation," added Bateman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">{41}</a></span></p> + +<p>All this was very unfair on Freeborn, though he had provoked it. Here +were four persons on him at once, and the silent fifth apparently a +sympathiser. Sheffield talked through malice; White from habit; Reding +came in because he could not help it; and Bateman spoke on principle; he +had a notion that he was improving Freeborn's views by this process of +badgering. At least he did not improve his temper, which was suffering. +Most of the party were undergraduates; he (Freeborn) was a Master; it +was too bad of Bateman. He finished in silence his sausage, which had +got quite cold. The conversation flagged; there was a rise in toast and +muffins; coffee-cups were put aside, and tea flowed freely.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">{42}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_VII" id="one_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Freeborn</span> did not like to be beaten; he began again. Religion, he said, +was a matter of the heart; no one could interpret Scripture rightly +whose heart was not right. Till our eyes were enlightened, to dispute +about the sense of Scripture, to attempt to deduce from Scripture, was +beating about the bush: it was like the blind disputing about colours.</p> + +<p>"If this is true," said Bateman, "no one ought to argue about religion +at all; but you were the first to do so, Freeborn."</p> + +<p>"Of course," answered Freeborn, "those who have <i>found</i> the truth are +the very persons to argue, for they have the gift."</p> + +<p>"And the very last persons to persuade," said Sheffield; "for they have +the gift all to themselves."</p> + +<p>"Therefore true Christians should argue with each other, and with no one +else," said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"But those are the very persons who don't want it," said Sheffield; +"reasoning must be for the unconverted, not for the converted. It is the +means of seeking."</p> + +<p>Freeborn persisted that the reason of the unconverted was carnal, and +that such could not understand Scripture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">{43}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have always thought," said Reding, "that reason was a general gift, +though faith is a special and personal one. If faith is really rational, +all ought to see that it is rational; else, from the nature of the case, +it is not rational."</p> + +<p>"But St. Paul says," answered Freeborn, "that 'to the natural man the +things of the Spirit are foolishness.'"</p> + +<p>"But how are we to arrive at truth at all," said Reding, "except by +reason? It is the appointed method for our guidance. Brutes go by +instinct, men by reason."</p> + +<p>They had fallen on a difficult subject; all were somewhat puzzled except +White, who had not been attending, and was simply wearied; he now +interposed. "It would be a dull world," he said, "if men went by reason: +they may think they do, but they don't. Really, they are led by their +feelings, their affections, by the sense of the beautiful, and the good, +and the holy. Religion is the beautiful; the clouds, sun, and sky, the +fields and the woods, are religion."</p> + +<p>"This would make all religions true," said Freeborn, "good and bad."</p> + +<p>"No," answered White, "heathen rites are bloody and impure, not +beautiful; and Mahometanism is as cold and as dry as any Calvinistic +meeting. The Mahometans have no altars or priests, nothing but a pulpit +and a preacher."</p> + +<p>"Like St. Mary's," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"Very like," said White; "we have no life or poetry in the Church of +England; the Catholic Church alone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">{44}</a></span> is beautiful. You would see what I +mean if you went into a foreign cathedral, or even into one of the +Catholic churches in our large towns. The celebrant, deacon, and +subdeacon, acolytes with lights, the incense, and the chanting—all +combine to one end, one act of worship. You feel it <i>is</i> really a +worshipping; every sense, eyes, ears, smell, are made to know that +worship is going on. The laity on the floor saying their beads, or +making their acts; the choir singing out the <i>Kyrie</i>; and the priest and +his assistants bowing low, and saying the <i>Confiteor</i> to each other. +This is worship, and it is far above reason."</p> + +<p>This was spoken with all his heart; but it was quite out of keeping with +the conversation which had preceded it, and White's poetry was almost as +disagreeable to the party as Freeborn's prose.</p> + +<p>"White, you should turn Catholic out and out," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"My dear good fellow," said Bateman, "think what you are saying. You +can't really have gone to a schismatical chapel. Oh, for shame!"</p> + +<p>Freeborn observed, gravely, that if the two Churches <i>were</i> one, as had +been maintained, he could not see, do what he would, why it was wrong to +go to and fro from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"You forget," said Bateman to White, "you have, or might have, all this +in your own Church, without the Romish corruptions."</p> + +<p>"As to the Romish corruptions," answered White, "I know very little +about them."</p> + +<p>Freeborn groaned audibly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">{45}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know very little about them," repeated White eagerly, "very little; +but what is that to the purpose? We must take things as we find them. I +don't like what is bad in the Catholic Church, if there is bad, but what +is good. I do not go to it for what is bad, but for what is good. You +can't deny that what I admire is very good and beautiful. Only you try +to introduce it into your own Church. You would give your ears, you know +you would, to hear the <i>Dies iræ</i>."</p> + +<p>Here a general burst of laughter took place. White was an Irishman. It +was a happy interruption; the party rose up from table, and a tap at +that minute, which sounded at the door, succeeded in severing the thread +of the conversation.</p> + +<p>It was a printseller's man with a large book of plates.</p> + +<p>"Well timed," said Bateman;—"put them down, Baker: or rather give them +to me;—I can take the opinion of you men on a point I have much at +heart. You know I wanted you, Freeborn, to go with me to see my chapel; +Sheffield and Reding have looked into it. Well now, just see here."</p> + +<p>He opened the portfolio; it contained views of the Campo Santo at Pisa. +The leaves were slowly turned over in silence, the spectators partly +admiring, partly not knowing what to think, partly wondering at what was +coming.</p> + +<p>"What do you think my plan is?" he continued. "You twitted me, +Sheffield, because my chapel would be useless. Now I mean to get a +cemetery attached to it; there is plenty of land; and then the chapel +will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">{46}</a></span> become a chantry. But now, what will you say if we have a copy of +these splendid medieval monuments round the burial-place, both sculpture +and painting? Now, Sheffield, Mr. Critic, what do you say to that?"</p> + +<p>"A most admirable plan," said Sheffield, "and quite removes my +objections.... A chantry! what is that? Don't they say Mass in it for +the dead?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no, no," said Bateman, in fear of Freeborn; "we'll have none of +your Popery. It will be a simple, guileless chapel, in which the Church +Service will be read."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Sheffield was slowly turning over the plates. He stopped at +one. "What will you do with that figure?" he said, pointing to a +Madonna.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it will be best, most prudent, to leave it out; certainly, +certainly."</p> + +<p>Sheffield soon began again: "But look here, my good fellow, what do you +do with these saints and angels? do see, why here's a complete legend; +do you mean to have this? Here's a set of miracles, and a woman invoking +a saint in heaven."</p> + +<p>Bateman looked cautiously at them, and did not answer. He would have +shut the book, but Sheffield wished to see some more. Meanwhile he said, +"Oh yes, true, there <i>are</i> some things; but I have an expedient for all +this; I mean to make it all allegorical. The Blessed Virgin shall be the +Church, and the saints shall be cardinal and other virtues; and as to +that saint's life, St. Ranieri's, it shall be a Catholic 'Pilgrim's +Progress.'"</p> + +<p>"Good! then you must drop all these popes and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">{47}</a></span> bishops, copes and +chalices," said Sheffield; "and have their names written under the rest, +that people mayn't take them for saints and angels. Perhaps you had +better have scrolls from their mouths, in old English. This St. Thomas +is stout; make him say, 'I am Mr. Dreadnought,' or 'I am Giant Despair;' +and, since this beautiful saint bears a sort of dish, make her 'Mrs. +Creature Comfort.' But look here," he continued, "a whole set of devils; +are <i>these</i> to be painted up?"</p> + +<p>Bateman attempted forcibly to shut the book; Sheffield went on: "St. +Anthony's temptations; what's this? Here's the fiend in the shape of a +cat on a wine-barrel."</p> + +<p>"Really, really," said Bateman, disgusted, and getting possession of it, +"you are quite offensive, quite. We will look at them when you are more +serious."</p> + +<p>Sheffield indeed was very provoking, and Bateman more good-humoured than +many persons would have been in his place. Meanwhile Freeborn, who had +had his gown in his hand the last two minutes, nodded to his host, and +took his departure by himself; and White and Willis soon followed in +company.</p> + +<p>"Really," said Bateman to Sheffield, when they were gone, "you and +White, each in his own way, are so very rash in your mode of speaking, +and before other people, too. I wished to teach Freeborn a little good +Catholicism, and you have spoilt all. I hoped something would have come +out of this breakfast. But only think of White! it will all out. +Freeborn will tell it to his set. It is very bad, very bad indeed. And +you, my friend, are not much better; never serious.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">{48}</a></span> What <i>could</i> you +mean by saying that our Church is not one with the Romish? It was giving +Freeborn such an advantage."</p> + +<p>Sheffield looked provokingly easy; and, leaning with his back against +the mantelpiece, and his coat-tail almost playing with the spout of the +kettle, replied, "You had a most awkward team to drive." Then he added, +looking sideways at him, with his head back, "And why had you, O most +correct of men, the audacity to say that the English Church and the +Romish Church <i>were</i> one?"</p> + +<p>"It must be so," answered Bateman; "there is but one Church—the Creed +says so; would you make two?"</p> + +<p>"I don't speak of doctrine," said Sheffield, "but of fact. I didn't mean +to say that there <i>were</i> two <i>Churches</i>; nor to deny that there was one +<i>Church</i>. I but denied the fact, that what are evidently two bodies were +one body."</p> + +<p>Bateman thought awhile; and Charles employed himself in scraping down +the soot from the back of the chimney with the poker. He did not wish to +speak, but he was not sorry to listen to such an argument.</p> + +<p>"My good fellow," said Bateman, in a tone of instruction, "you are +making a distinction between a Church and a body which I don't quite +comprehend. You say that there are two bodies, and yet but one Church. +If so, the Church is not a body, but something abstract, a mere name, a +general idea; is <i>that</i> your meaning? if so, you are an honest +Calvinist."</p> + +<p>"You are another," answered Sheffield; "for if you make two visible +Churches, English and Romish, to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">{49}</a></span> one Church, that one Church must be +invisible, not visible. Thus, if I hold an abstract Church, you hold an +invisible one."</p> + +<p>"I do not see that," said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Prove the two Churches to be one," said Sheffield, "and then I'll prove +something else."</p> + +<p>"Some paradox?" said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Of course," answered Sheffield, "a huge one; but yours, not mine. Prove +the English and Romish Churches to be in any sense one, and I will prove +by parallel arguments that in the same sense we and the Wesleyans are +one."</p> + +<p>This was a fair challenge. Bateman, however, suddenly put on a demure +look, and was silent. "We are on sacred subjects," he said at length in +a subdued tone, "we are on very sacred subjects; we must be reverent," +and he drew a very long face.</p> + +<p>Sheffield laughed out, nor could Reding stand it. "What is it?" cried +Sheffield; "don't be hard on me? What have I done? Where did the +sacredness begin? I eat my words."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he meant nothing," said Charles, "indeed he did not; he's more +serious than he seems; do answer him; I am interested."</p> + +<p>"Really, I do wish to treat the subject gravely," said Sheffield; "I +will begin again. I am very sorry, indeed I am. Let me put the objection +more reverently."</p> + +<p>Bateman relaxed: "My good Sheffield," he said, "the thing is irreverent, +not the manner. It is irreverent to liken your holy mother to the +Wesleyan schismatics."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">{50}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I repent, I do indeed," said Sheffield; "it was a wavering of faith; it +was very unseemly, I confess it. What can I say more? Look at me; won't +this do? But now tell me, do tell me, <i>how</i> are we one body with the +Romanists, yet the Wesleyans not one body with us?"</p> + +<p>Bateman looked at him, and was satisfied with the expression of his +face. "It's a strange question for you to ask," he said; "I fancied you +were a sharper fellow. Don't you see that we have the apostolical +succession as well as the Romanists?"</p> + +<p>"But Romanists say," answered Sheffield, "that that is not enough for +unity; that we ought to be in communion with the Pope."</p> + +<p>"That's their mistake," answered Bateman.</p> + +<p>"That's just what the Wesleyans say of us," retorted Sheffield, "when we +won't acknowledge <i>their</i> succession; they say it's our mistake."</p> + +<p>"Their succession!" cried Bateman; "they have no succession."</p> + +<p>"Yes, they have," said Sheffield; "they have a ministerial succession."</p> + +<p>"It isn't apostolical," answered Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but it is evangelical, a succession of doctrine," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"Doctrine! Evangelical!" cried Bateman; "whoever heard! that's not +enough; doctrine is not enough without bishops."</p> + +<p>"And succession is not enough without the Pope," answered Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"They act against the bishops," said Bateman, not quite seeing whither +he was going.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">{51}</a></span></p> + +<p>"And we act against the Pope," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"We say that the Pope isn't necessary," said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"And they say that bishops are not necessary," returned Sheffield.</p> + +<p>They were out of breath, and paused to see where they stood. Presently +Bateman said, "My good sir, this is a question of <i>fact</i>, not of +argumentative cleverness. The question is, whether it is not <i>true</i> that +bishops are necessary to the notion of a Church, and whether it is not +<i>false</i> that Popes are necessary."</p> + +<p>"No, no," cried Sheffield, "the question is this, whether obedience to +our bishops is not necessary to make Wesleyans one body with us, and +obedience to their Pope necessary to make us one body with the +Romanists. You maintain the one, and deny the other; I maintain both. +Maintain both, or deny both: I am consistent; you are inconsistent."</p> + +<p>Bateman was puzzled.</p> + +<p>"In a word," Sheffield added, "succession is not unity, any more than +doctrine."</p> + +<p>"Not unity? What then is unity?" asked Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Oneness of polity," answered Sheffield.</p> + +<p>Bateman thought awhile. "The idea is preposterous," he said: "here we +have <i>possession</i>; here we are established since King Lucius's time, or +since St. Paul preached here; filling the island; one continuous Church; +with the same territory, the same succession, the same hierarchy, the +same civil and political position, the same churches. Yes," he +proceeded, "we have the very same fabrics, the memorials of a thousand +years,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">{52}</a></span> doctrine stamped and perpetuated in stone; all the mystical +teaching of the old saints. What have the Methodists to do with Catholic +rites? with altars, with sacrifice, with rood-lofts, with fonts, with +niches?—they call it all superstition."</p> + +<p>"Don't be angry with me, Bateman," said Sheffield, "and, before going, I +will put forth a parable. Here's the Church of England, as like a +Protestant Establishment as it can stare; bishops and people, all but a +few like yourselves, call it Protestant; the living body calls itself +Protestant; the living body abjures Catholicism, flings off the name and +the thing, hates the Church of Rome, laughs at sacramental power, +despises the Fathers, is jealous of priestcraft, is a Protestant +reality, is a Catholic sham. This existing reality, which is alive and +no mistake, you wish to top with a filagree-work of screens, dorsals, +pastoral staffs, croziers, mitres, and the like. Now most excellent +Bateman, will you hear my parable? will you be offended at it?"</p> + +<p>Silence gave consent, and Sheffield proceeded.</p> + +<p>"Why, once on a time a negro boy, when his master was away, stole into +his wardrobe, and determined to make himself fine at his master's +expense. So he was presently seen in the streets, naked as usual, but +strutting up and down with a cocked hat on his head, and a pair of white +kid gloves on his hands."</p> + +<p>"Away with you! get out, you graceless, hopeless fellow!" said Bateman, +discharging the sofa-bolster at his head. Meanwhile Sheffield ran to the +door, and quickly found himself with Charles in the street below.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">{53}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_VIII" id="one_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Sheffield</span> and Charles may go their way; but we must follow White and +Willis out of Bateman's lodgings. It was a Saint's day, and they had no +lectures; they walked arm-in-arm along Broad Street, evidently very +intimate, and Willis found his voice: "I can't bear that Freeborn," said +he, "he's such a prig; and I like him the less because I am obliged to +know him."</p> + +<p>"You knew him in the country, I think?" said White.</p> + +<p>"In consequence, he has several times had me to his spiritual +tea-parties, and has introduced me to old Mr. Grimes, a good, +kind-hearted old <i>fogie</i>, but an awful evangelical, and his wife worse. +Grimes is the old original religious tea-man, and Freeborn imitates him. +They get together as many men as they can, perhaps twenty freshmen, +bachelors, and masters, who sit in a circle, with cups and saucers in +their hands and hassocks at their knees. Some insufferable person of +Capel Hall or St. Mark's, who hardly speaks English, under pretence of +asking Mr. Grimes some divinity question, holds forth on original sin, +or justification, or assurance, monopolizing the conversation. Then +tea-things go,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">{54}</a></span> and a portion of Scripture comes instead; and old Grimes +expounds; very good it is, doubtless, though he is a layman. He's a good +old soul; but no one in the room can stand it; even Mrs. Grimes nods +over her knitting, and some of the dear brothers breathe very audibly. +Mr. Grimes, however, hears nothing but himself. At length he stops; his +hearers wake up, and the hassocks begin. Then we go; and Mr. Grimes and +the St. Mark's man call it a profitable evening. I can't make out why +any one goes twice; yet some men never miss."</p> + +<p>"They all go on faith," said White: "faith in Mr. Grimes."</p> + +<p>"Faith in old Grimes," said Willis; "an old half-pay lieutenant!"</p> + +<p>"Here's a church open," said White; "that's odd; let's go in."</p> + +<p>They entered; an old woman was dusting the pews as if for service. "That +will be all set right," said Willis; "we must have no women, but +sacristans and servers."</p> + +<p>"Then, you know, all these pews will go to the right about. Did you ever +see a finer church for a function?"</p> + +<p>"Where would you put the sacristy?" said Willis; "that closet is meant +for the vestry, but would never be large enough."</p> + +<p>"That depends on the number of altars the church admits," answered +White; "each altar must have its own dresser and wardrobe in the +sacristy."</p> + +<p>"One," said Willis, counting, "where the pulpit stands, that'll be the +high altar; one quite behind, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">{55}</a></span> may be Our Lady's; two, one on each +side of the chancel—four already; to whom do you dedicate them?"</p> + +<p>"The church is not wide enough for those side ones," objected White.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it is," said Willis; "I have seen, abroad, altars with only one +step to them, and they need not be very broad. I think, too, this wall +admits of an arch—look at the depth of the window; <i>that</i> would be a +gain of room."</p> + +<p>"No," persisted White; "the chancel is too narrow;" and he began to +measure the floor with his pocket-handkerchief. "What would you say is +the depth of an altar from the wall?" he asked.</p> + +<p>On looking up he saw some ladies in the church whom he and Willis +knew—the pretty Miss Boltons—very Catholic girls, and really kind, +charitable persons into the bargain. We cannot add, that they were much +wiser at that time than the two young gentlemen whom they now +encountered; and if any fair reader thinks our account of them a +reflection on Catholic-minded ladies generally, we beg distinctly to +say, that we by no means put them forth as a type of a class; that among +such persons were to be found, as we know well, the gentlest spirits and +the tenderest hearts; and that nothing short of severe fidelity to +historical truth keeps us from adorning these two young persons in +particular with that prudence and good sense with which so many such +ladies were endowed. These two sisters had open hands, if they had not +wise heads; and their object in entering the church (which was not the +church of their own parish) was to see the old woman, who was at once a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">{56}</a></span> +subject and instrument of their bounty, and to say a word about her +little grandchildren, in whom they were interested. As may be supposed, +they did not know much of matters ecclesiastical, and they knew less of +themselves; and the latter defect White could not supply, though he was +doing, and had done, his best to remedy the former deficiency; and every +meeting did a little.</p> + +<p>The two parties left the church together, and the gentlemen saw the +ladies home. "We were imagining, Miss Bolton," White said, walking at a +respectful distance from her, "we were imagining St. James's a Catholic +church, and trying to arrange things as they ought to be."</p> + +<p>"What was your first reform?" asked Miss Bolton.</p> + +<p>"I fear," answered White, "it would fare hard with your <i>protégée</i>, the +old lady who dusts out the pews."</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," said Miss Bolton, "because there would be no pews to +dust."</p> + +<p>"But not only in office, but in person, or rather in character, she must +make her exit from the church," said White.</p> + +<p>"Impossible," said Miss Bolton; "are women, then, to remain +Protestants?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," answered White, "the good lady will reappear, only in another +character; she will be a widow."</p> + +<p>"And who will take her present place?"</p> + +<p>"A sacristan," answered White; "a sacristan in a cotta. Do you like the +short cotta or the long?" he continued, turning to the younger lady.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">{57}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I?" answered Miss Charlotte; "I always forget, but I think you told us +the Roman was the short one; I'm for the short cotta."</p> + +<p>"You know, Charlotte," said Miss Bolton, "that there's a great reform +going on in England in ecclesiastical vestments."</p> + +<p>"I hate all reforms," answered Charlotte, "from the Reformation +downwards. Besides, we have got some way in our cope; you have seen it, +Mr. White? it's such a sweet pattern."</p> + +<p>"Have you determined what to do with it?" asked Willis.</p> + +<p>"Time enough to think of that," said Charlotte; "it'll take four years +to finish."</p> + +<p>"Four years!" cried White; "we shall be all real Catholics by then; +England will be converted."</p> + +<p>"It will be done just in time for the Bishop," said Charlotte.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's not good enough for him!" said Miss Bolton; "but it may do in +church for the <i>Asperges</i>. How different all things will be!" continued +she; "I don't quite like, though, the idea of a cardinal in Oxford. Must +we be so very Roman? I don't see why we might not be quite Catholic +without the Pope."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you need not be afraid," said White sagely; "things don't go so +apace. Cardinals are not so cheap."</p> + +<p>"Cardinals have so much state and stiffness," said Miss Bolton: "I hear +they never walk without two servants behind them; and they always leave +the room directly dancing begins."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">{58}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I think Oxford must be just cut out for cardinals," said Miss +Charlotte; "can anything be duller than the President's parties? I can +fancy Dr. Bone a cardinal, as he walks round the parks."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's the genius of the Catholic Church," said White; "you will +understand it better in time. No one is his own master; even the Pope +cannot do as he will; he dines by himself, and speaks by precedent."</p> + +<p>"Of course he does," said Charlotte, "for he is infallible."</p> + +<p>"Nay, if he makes mistakes in the functions," continued White, "he is +obliged to write them down and confess them, lest they should be drawn +into precedents."</p> + +<p>"And he is obliged, during a function, to obey the master of ceremonies, +against his own judgment," said Willis.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you say the Pope confessed, Mr. White?" asked Miss Bolton; "it +has always puzzled me whether the Pope was obliged to confess like +another man."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," answered White, "every one confesses."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charlotte, "I can't fancy Mr. Hurst of St. Peter's, who +comes here to sing glees, confessing, or some of the grave heads of +houses, who bow so stiffly."</p> + +<p>"They will all have to confess," said White.</p> + +<p>"All?" asked Miss Bolton; "you don't mean converts confess? I thought it +was only old Catholics."</p> + +<p>There was a little pause.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">{59}</a></span></p> + +<p>"And what will the heads of houses be?" asked Miss Charlotte.</p> + +<p>"Abbots or superiors," answered White; "they will bear crosses; and when +they say Mass, there will be a lighted candle in addition."</p> + +<p>"What a good portly abbot the Vice-Chancellor will make!" said Miss +Bolton.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; he's too short for an abbot," said her sister; "but you have +left out the Chancellor himself: you seem to have provided for every one +else; what will become of him?"</p> + +<p>"The Chancellor is my difficulty," said White gravely.</p> + +<p>"Make him a Knight-Templar," said Willis.</p> + +<p>"The Duke's a queer hand," said White, still thoughtfully: "there's no +knowing what he'll come to. A Knight-Templar—yes; Malta is now English +property; he might revive the order."</p> + +<p>The ladies both laughed.</p> + +<p>"But you have not completed your plan, Mr. White," said Miss Bolton: +"the heads of houses have got wives; how can they become monks?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, the wives will go into convents," said White: "Willis and I have +been making inquiries in the High Street, and they are most +satisfactory. Some of the houses there were once university-halls and +inns, and will easily turn back into convents: all that will be wanted +is grating to the windows."</p> + +<p>"Have you any notion what order they ought to join?" said Miss +Charlotte.</p> + +<p>"That depends on themselves," said White: "no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">{60}</a></span> compulsion whatever must +be put on them. <i>They</i> are the judges. But it would be useful to have +two convents—one of an active order, and one contemplative: Ursuline +for instance, and Carmelite of St. Theresa's reform."</p> + +<p>Hitherto their conversation had been on the verge of jest and earnest; +now it took a more pensive tone.</p> + +<p>"The nuns of St. Theresa are very strict, I believe, Mr. White," said +Miss Bolton.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he made reply; "I have fears for the Mrs. Wardens and Mrs. +Principals who at their age undertake it."</p> + +<p>They had got home, and White politely rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"Younger persons," said he tenderly, "are too delicate for such a +sacrifice."</p> + +<p>Louisa was silent; presently she said, "And what will you be, Mr. +White?"</p> + +<p>"I know not," he answered; "I have thought of the Cistercians; they +never speak."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the dear Cistercians!" she said; "St. Bernard wasn't it?—sweet, +heavenly man, and so young! I have seen his picture: such eyes!"</p> + +<p>White was a good-looking man. The nun and the monk looked at each other +very respectfully, and bowed; the other pair went through a similar +ceremony; then it was performed diagonally. The two ladies entered their +home; the two gentlemen retired.</p> + +<p>We must follow the former upstairs. When they entered the drawing-room +they found their mother sitting at the window in her bonnet and shawl, +dipping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">{61}</a></span> into a chance volume in that unsettled state which implies that +a person is occupied, if it may be so called, in waiting, more than in +anything else.</p> + +<p>"My dear children," she said as they entered, "where <i>have</i> you been? +the bells have stopped a good quarter of an hour: I fear we must give up +going to church this morning."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, dear mamma," answered Miss Bolton; "we went out punctually +at half-past nine; we did not stop two minutes at your worsted-shop; and +here we are back again."</p> + +<p>"The only thing we did besides," said Charlotte, "was to look in at St. +James's, as the door was open, to say a word or two to poor old Wiggins. +Mr. White was there, and his friend Mr. Willis; and they saw us home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I understand," answered Mrs. Bolton; "that is the way when young +gentlemen and ladies get together: but at any rate we are late for +church."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Charlotte, "let us set out directly, we shall get in by +the first lesson."</p> + +<p>"My dear child, how can you propose such a thing?" said her mother: "I +would not do so for any consideration; it is so very disgraceful. Better +not go at all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dearest mamma," said the elder sister, "this certainly <i>is</i> a +prejudice. Why always come in at one time? there is something so formal +in people coming in all at once, and waiting for each other. It is +surely more reasonable to come in when you can: so many things may +hinder persons."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">{62}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, my dear <ins class="correction" title="text reads 'Lousia'">Louisa</ins>," said her mother, "I like the old way. +It used always to be said to us, Be in your seats before 'When the +wicked man,' and at latest before the 'Dearly Beloved.' That's the good +old-fashioned way. And Mr. Jones and Mr. Pearson used always to sit at +least five minutes in the desk to give us some law, and used to look +round before beginning; and Mr. Jones used frequently to preach against +late comers. I can't argue, but it seems to me reasonable that good +Christians should hear the whole service. They might as well go out +before it's over."</p> + +<p>"Well, but, mamma," said Charlotte, "so it <i>is</i> abroad: they come in and +go out when they please. It's so devotional."</p> + +<p>"My dear girl," said Mrs. Bolton, "I am too old to understand all this; +it's beyond me. I suppose Mr. White has been saying all this to you. +He's a good young man, very amiable and attentive. I have nothing to say +against him, except that he <i>is</i> young, and he'll change his view of +things when he gets older."</p> + +<p>"While we talk, time's going," said Louisa; "is it quite impossible we +should still go to church?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Louisa, I would not walk up the aisle for the world; positively +I should sink into the earth: such a bad example! How can you dream of +such a thing?"</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose nothing's to be done," said Louisa, taking off her +bonnet; "but really it is very sad to make worship so cold and formal a +thing. Twice as many people would go to church if they might be late."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">{63}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, all things are changed now: in my younger days Catholics +were the formal people, and we were the devotional; now it's just the +reverse."</p> + +<p>"But isn't it so, dear mamma?" said Charlotte, "isn't it something much +more beautiful, this continued concourse, flowing and ebbing, changing +yet full, than a way of praying which is as wooden as the +reading-desk?—it's so free and natural."</p> + +<p>"Free and easy, <i>I</i> think," said her mother; "for shame, Charlotte! how +can you speak against the beautiful Church Service; you pain me."</p> + +<p>"I don't," answered Charlotte; "it's a mere puritanical custom, which is +no more part of our Church than the pews are."</p> + +<p>"Common Prayer is offered to all who can come," said Louisa; "Church +should be a privilege, not a mere duty."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear love, this is more than I can follow. There was young +George Ashton—he always left before the sermon; and when taxed with it, +he said he could not bear an heretical preacher; a boy of eighteen!"</p> + +<p>"But, dearest mamma," said Charlotte, "what <i>is</i> to be done when a +preacher is heretical? what else can be done?—it's so distressing to a +Catholic mind."</p> + +<p>"Catholic, Catholic!" cried Mrs. Bolton, rather vexed; "give me good old +George the Third and the Protestant religion. Those were the times! +Everything went on quietly then. We had no disputes or divisions; no +differences in families. But now it is all otherwise. My head is turned, +I declare; I hear so many strange, out-of-the-way things."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">{64}</a></span></p> + +<p>The young ladies did not answer; one looked out of the window, the other +prepared to leave the room.</p> + +<p>"Well it's a disappointment to us all," said their mother; "you first +hindered me going, then I have hindered you. But I suspect, dear Louisa, +mine is the greater disappointment of the two."</p> + +<p>Louisa turned round from the window.</p> + +<p>"I value the Prayer Book as you cannot do, my love," she continued; "for +I have known what it is to one in deep affliction. May it be long, +dearest girls, before you know it in a similar way; but if affliction +comes on you, depend on it, all these new fancies and fashions will +vanish from you like the wind, and the good old Prayer Book alone will +stand you in any stead."</p> + +<p>They were both touched.</p> + +<p>"Come, my dears; I have spoken too seriously," she added. "Go and take +your things off, and come and let us have some quiet work before +luncheon-time."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">{65}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_IX" id="one_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Some</span> persons fidget at intellectual difficulties, and, successfully or +not, are ever trying to solve them. Charles was of a different cast of +temper; a new idea was not lost on him, but it did not distress him, if +it was obscure, or conflicted with his habitual view of things. He let +it work its way and find its place, and shape itself within him, by the +slow spontaneous action of the mind. Yet perplexity is not in itself a +pleasant state; and he would have hastened its removal, had he been +able.</p> + +<p>By means of conversations such as those which we have related (to which +many others might be added, which we spare the reader's patience), and +from the diversities of view which he met with in the University, he had +now come, in the course of a year, to one or two conclusions, not very +novel, but very important:—first, that there are a great many opinions +in the world on the most momentous subjects; secondly, that all are not +equally true; thirdly, that it is a duty to hold true opinions; and, +fourthly, that it is uncommonly difficult to get hold of them. He had +been accustomed, as we have seen, to fix his mind on persons, not on +opinions, and to determine to like what was good in every one; but he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">{66}</a></span> +had now come to perceive that, to say the least, it was not respectable +in any great question to hold false opinions. It did not matter that +such false opinions were sincerely held,—he could not feel that respect +for a person who held what Sheffield called a sham, with which he +regarded him who held a reality. White and Bateman were cases in point; +they were very good fellows, but he could not endure their unreal way of +talking, though they did not feel it to be unreal themselves. In like +manner, if the Roman Catholic system was untrue, so far was plain +(putting aside higher considerations), that a person who believed in the +power of saints, and prayed to them, was an actor in a great sham, let +him be as sincere as he would. He mistook words for things, and so far +forth, he could not respect him more than he respected White or Bateman. +And so of a Unitarian; if he believed the power of unaided human nature +to be what it was not; if by birth man is fallen, and he thought him +upright, he was holding an absurdity. He might redeem and cover this +blot by a thousand excellences, but a blot it would remain; just as we +should feel a handsome man disfigured by the loss of an eye or a hand. +And so, again, if a professing Christian made the Almighty a being of +simple benevolence, and He was, on the contrary, what the Church of +England teaches, a God who punishes for the sake of justice, such a +person was making an idol or unreality the object of his religion, and +(apart from more serious thoughts about him) so far he could not respect +him. Thus the principle of dogmatism gradually became an essential +element in Charles's religious views.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">{67}</a></span></p> + +<p>Gradually, and imperceptibly to himself; for the thoughts which we have +been tracing only came on him at spare times, and were taken up at +intervals from the point at which they were laid down. His lectures and +other duties of the place, his friends and recreations, were the staple +of the day; but there was this undercurrent ever in motion, and sounding +in his mental ear as soon as other sounds were hushed. As he dressed in +the morning, as he sat under the beeches of his college-garden, when he +strolled into the meadow, when he went into the town to pay a bill or +make a call, when he threw himself on his sofa after shutting his oak at +night, thoughts cognate with those which have been described were busy +within him.</p> + +<p>Discussions, however, and inquiries, as far as Oxford could afford +matter for them, were for a while drawing to an end; for Trinity Sunday +was now past, and the Commemoration was close at hand. On the Sunday +before it, the University sermon happened to be preached by a +distinguished person, whom that solemnity brought up to Oxford; no less +a man than the Very Rev. Dr. Brownside, the new Dean of Nottingham, some +time Huntingdonian Professor of Divinity, and one of the acutest, if not +soundest academical thinkers of the day. He was a little, prim, +smirking, be-spectacled man, bald in front, with curly black hair +behind, somewhat pompous in his manner, with a clear musical utterance, +which enabled one to listen to him without effort. As a divine, he +seemed never to have had any difficulty on any subject; he was so clear +or so shallow, that he saw to the bottom of all his thoughts: or, since +Dr. Johnson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">{68}</a></span> tells us that "all shallows are clear," we may perhaps +distinguish him by both epithets. Revelation to him, instead of being +the abyss of God's counsels, with its dim outlines and broad shadows, +was a flat, sunny plain, laid out with straight macadamised roads. Not, +of course, that he denied the Divine incomprehensibility itself, with +certain heretics of old; but he maintained that in Revelation all that +was mysterious had been left out, and nothing given us but what was +practical, and directly concerned us. It was, moreover, to him a marvel, +that every one did not agree with him in taking this simple, natural +view, which he thought almost self-evident; and he attributed the +phenomenon, which was by no means uncommon, to some want of clearness of +head, or twist of mind, as the case might be. He was a popular preacher; +that is, though he had few followers, he had numerous hearers; and on +this occasion the church was overflowing with the young men of the +place.</p> + +<p>He began his sermon by observing, that it was not a little remarkable +that there were so few good reasoners in the world, considering that the +discursive faculty was one of the characteristics of man's nature, as +contrasted with brute animals. It had indeed been said that brutes +reasoned; but this was an analogical sense of the word "reason," and an +instance of that very ambiguity of language, or confusion of thought, on +which he was animadverting. In like manner, we say that the <i>reason</i> why +the wind blows is, that there is a change of temperature in the +atmosphere; and the <i>reason</i> why the bells ring is, because the ringers +pull them; but who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">{69}</a></span> would say that the wind <i>reasons</i> or that bells +<i>reason</i>? There was, he believed, no well-ascertained fact (an emphasis +on the word <i>fact</i>) of brutes reasoning. It had been said, indeed, that +that sagacious animal, the dog, if, in tracking his master, he met three +ways, after smelling the two, boldly pursued the third without any such +previous investigation; which, if true, would be an instance of a +disjunctive hypothetical syllogism. Also Dugald Stewart spoke of the +case of a monkey cracking nuts behind a door, which, not being a strict +imitation of anything which he could have actually seen, implied an +operation of abstraction, by which the clever brute had first ascended +to the general notion of nut-crackers, which perhaps he had seen in a +particular instance, in silver or in steel, at his master's table, and +then descending, had embodied it, thus obtained, in the shape of an +expedient of his own devising. This was what had been said: however, he +might assume on the present occasion, that the faculty of reasoning was +characteristic of the human species; and, this being the case, it +certainly was remarkable that so few persons reasoned well.</p> + +<p>After this introduction, he proceeded to attribute to this defect the +number of religious differences in the world. He said that the most +celebrated questions in religion were but verbal ones; that the +disputants did not know their own meaning, or that of their opponents; +and that a spice of good logic would have put an end to dissensions, +which had troubled the world for centuries,—would have prevented many a +bloody war, many a fierce anathema, many a savage execution, and many a +ponderous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">{70}</a></span> folio. He went on to imply that in fact there was no truth or +falsehood in the received dogmas in theology; that they were modes, +neither good nor bad in themselves, but personal, national, or periodic, +in which the intellect reasoned upon the great truths of religion; that +the fault lay, not in holding them, but in insisting on them, which was +like insisting on a Hindoo dressing like a Fin, or a regiment of +dragoons using the boomarang.</p> + +<p>He proceeded to observe, that from what he had said, it was plain in +what point of view the Anglican formularies were to be regarded; viz. +they were <i>our</i> mode of expressing everlasting truths, which might be as +well expressed in other ways, as any correct thinker would be able to +see. Nothing, then, was to be altered in them; they were to be retained +in their integrity; but it was ever to be borne in mind that they were +Anglican theology, not theology in the abstract; and that, though the +Athanasian Creed was good for us, it did not follow that it was good for +our neighbours; rather, that what seemed the very reverse might suit +others better, might be <i>their</i> mode of expressing the same truths.</p> + +<p>He concluded with one word in favour of Nestorius, two for Abelard, +three for Luther, "that great mind," as he worded it, "who saw that +churches, creeds, rites, persons, were nought in religion, and that the +inward spirit, <i>faith</i>," as he himself expressed it, "was all in all;" +and with a hint that nothing would go well in the University till this +great principle was so far admitted, as to lead its members—not, +indeed, to give up their own distinctive formularies, no—but to +consider<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">{71}</a></span> the direct contradictories of them equally pleasing to the +divine Author of Christianity.</p> + +<p>Charles did not understand the full drift of the sermon; but he +understood enough to make him feel that it was different from any sermon +he had heard in his life. He more than doubted, whether, if his good +father had heard it, he would not have made it an exception to his +favourite dictum. He came away marvelling with himself what the preacher +could mean, and whether he had misunderstood him. Did he mean that +Unitarians were only bad reasoners, and might be as good Christians as +orthodox believers? He could mean nothing else. But what if, after all, +he was right? He indulged the thought awhile. "Then every one is what +Sheffield calls a sham, more or less; and there was no reason for being +annoyed at any one. Then I was right originally in wishing to take every +one for what he was. Let me think; every one a sham ... shams are +respectable, or rather no one is respectable. We can't do without some +outward form of belief; one is not truer than another; that is, all are +equally true.... <i>All</i> are true.... That is the better way of taking it; +none are shams, all are true.... All are <i>true</i>! impossible! one as true +as another! why then it is as true that our Lord is a mere man, as that +He is God. He could not possibly mean this; what <i>did</i> he mean?"</p> + +<p>So Charles went on, painfully perplexed, yet out of this perplexity two +convictions came upon him, the first of them painful too; that he could +not take for gospel everything that was said, even by authorities of the +place and divines of name; and next, that his former<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">{72}</a></span> amiable feeling of +taking every one for what he was, was a dangerous one, leading with +little difficulty to a sufferance of every sort of belief, and +legitimately terminating in the sentiment expressed in Pope's Universal +Prayer, which his father had always held up to him as a pattern specimen +of shallow philosophism:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">"Father of all, in every age,</div> +<div class="verseind">In every clime adored,</div> +<div class="verse">By saint, by savage, and by sage,</div> +<div class="verseind">Jehovah, Jove, or Lord."</div> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">{73}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_X" id="one_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Charles</span> went up this term for his first examination, and this caused him +to remain in Oxford some days after the undergraduate part of his +college had left for the Long Vacation. Thus he came across Mr. Vincent, +one of the junior tutors, who was kind enough to ask him to dine in +Common-room on Sunday, and on several mornings made him take some turns +with him up and down the Fellows' walk in the college garden.</p> + +<p>A few years make a great difference in the standing of men at Oxford, +and this made Mr. Vincent what is called a don in the eyes of persons +who were very little younger than himself. Besides, Vincent looked much +older than he really was; he was of a full habit, with a florid +complexion and large blue eyes, and showed a deal of linen at his bosom, +and full wristbands at his cuffs. Though a clever man, and a hard reader +and worker, and a capital tutor, he was a good feeder as well; he ate +and drank, he walked and rode, with as much heart as he lectured in +Aristotle, or crammed in Greek plays. What is stranger still, with all +this he was something of a valetudinarian. He had come off from school +on a foundation fellowship, and had the reputation both at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">{74}</a></span> school and +in the University of being a first-rate scholar. He was a strict +disciplinarian in his way, had the undergraduates under his thumb, and +having some <i>bonhomie</i> in his composition, was regarded by them with +mingled feelings of fear and good will. They laughed at him, but +carefully obeyed him. Besides this he preached a good sermon, read +prayers with unction, and in his conversation sometimes had even a touch +of evangelical spirituality. The young men even declared they could tell +how much port he had taken in Common-room by the devoutness of his +responses in evening-chapel; and it was on record that once, during the +Confession, he had, in the heat of his contrition, shoved over the huge +velvet cushion in which his elbows were imbedded upon the heads of the +gentlemen commoners who sat under him.</p> + +<p>He had just so much originality of mind as gave him an excuse for being +"his own party" in religion, or what he himself called being "no party +man;" and just so little that he was ever mistaking shams for truths, +and converting pompous nothings into oracles. He was oracular in his +manner, denounced parties and party-spirit, and thought to avoid the one +and the other by eschewing all persons, and holding all opinions. He had +a great idea of the <i>via media</i> being the truth; and to obtain it, +thought it enough to flee from extremes, without having any very +definite mean to flee to. He had not clearness of intellect enough to +pursue a truth to its limits, nor boldness enough to hold it in its +simplicity; but he was always saying things and unsaying them, balancing +his thoughts in impossible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">{75}</a></span> attitudes, and guarding his words by +unintelligible limitations. As to the men and opinions of the day and +place, he would in the main have agreed with them, had he let himself +alone; but he was determined to have an intellect of his own, and this +put him to great shifts when he would distinguish himself from them. Had +he been older than they, he would have talked of "young heads," "hot +heads," and the like; but since they were grave and cool men, and outran +him by fourteen or fifteen years, he found nothing better than to shake +his head, mutter against party-spirit, refuse to read their books, lest +he should be obliged to agree with them, and make a boast of avoiding +their society. At the present moment he was on the point of starting for +a continental tour to recruit himself after the labours of an Oxford +year; meanwhile he was keeping hall and chapel open for such men as were +waiting either for Responsions, or for their battel money; and he took +notice of Reding as a clever, modest youth of whom something might be +made. Under this view of him, he had, among other civilities, asked him +to breakfast a day or two before he went down.</p> + +<p>A tutor's breakfast is always a difficult affair both for host and +guests; and Vincent piqued himself on the tact with which he managed it. +The material part was easy enough; there were rolls, toast, muffins, +eggs, cold lamb, strawberries, on the table; and in due season the +college-servant brought in mutton-cutlets and broiled ham; and every one +ate to his heart's, or rather his appetite's, content. It was a more +arduous undertaking to provide the running accompaniment of thought, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">{76}</a></span> +at least of words, without which the breakfast would have been little +better than a pig-trough. The conversation or rather mono-polylogue, as +some great performer calls it, ran in somewhat of the following strain:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bruton," said Vincent, "what news from Staffordshire? Are the +potteries pretty quiet now? Our potteries grow in importance. You need +not look at the cup and saucer before you, Mr. Catley; those came from +Derbyshire. But you find English crockery everywhere on the Continent. I +myself found half a willow-pattern saucer in the crater of Vesuvius. Mr. +Sikes, I think <i>you</i> have <i>been</i> in Italy?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Sikes; "I was near going; my family set off a fortnight +ago, but I was kept here by these confounded smalls."</p> + +<p>"Your <i>Responsiones</i>," answered the tutor in a tone of rebuke; "an +unfortunate delay for you, for it is to be an unusually fine season, if +the meteorologists of the sister University are right in their +predictions. Who is in the Responsion schools, Mr. Sikes?"</p> + +<p>"Butson of Leicester is the strict one, sir; he plucks one man in three. +He plucked last week Patch of St. George's, and Patch has taken his oath +he'll shoot him; and Butson has walked about ever since with a bulldog."</p> + +<p>"These are reports, Mr. Sikes, which often flit about, but must not be +trusted. Mr. Patch could not have given a better proof that his +rejection was deserved."</p> + +<p>A pause—during which poor Vincent hastily gobbled up two or three +mouthfuls of bread and butter, the knives and forks meanwhile clinking +upon his guests' plates.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">{77}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sir, is it true," began one of his guests at length, "that the old +Principal is going to be married?"</p> + +<p>"These are matters, Mr. Atkins," answered Vincent, "which we should +always inquire about at the fountain-head; <i>antiquam exquirite matrem</i>, +or rather <i>patrem</i>; ha, ha! Take some more tea, Mr. Reding; it won't +hurt your nerves. I am rather choice in my tea; this comes overland +through Russia; the sea-air destroys the flavour of our common tea. +Talking of air, Mr. Tenby, I think you are a chemist. Have you paid +attention to the recent experiments on the composition and resolution of +air? Not? I am surprised at it; they are well worth your most serious +consideration. It is now pretty well ascertained that inhaling gases is +the cure for all kinds of diseases. People are beginning to talk of the +gas-cure, as they did of the water-cure. The great foreign chemist, +Professor Scaramouch, has the credit of the discovery. The effects are +astounding, quite astounding; and there are several remarkable +coincidences. You know medicines are always unpleasant, and so these +gases are always fetid. The Professor cures by stenches, and has brought +his science to such perfection that he actually can classify them. There +are six elementary stenches, and these spread into a variety of +subdivisions? What do you say, Mr. Reding? Distinctive? Yes, there is +something very distinctive in smells. But what is most gratifying of +all, and is the great coincidence I spoke of, his ultimate resolution of +fetid gases assigns to them the very same precise number as is given to +existing complaints in the latest treatises on pathology. Each complaint +has its gas.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">{78}</a></span> And, what is still more singular, an exhausted receiver is +a specific for certain desperate disorders. For instance, it has +effected several cures of hydrophobia. Mr. Seaton," he continued to a +freshman, who, his breakfast finished, was sitting uncomfortably on his +chair, looking down and playing with his knife—"Mr. Seaton, you are +looking at that picture"—it was almost behind Seaton's back—"I don't +wonder at it; it was given me by my good old mother, who died many years +ago. It represents some beautiful Italian scenery."</p> + +<p>Vincent stood up, and his party after him, and all crowded round the +picture.</p> + +<p>"I prefer the green of England," said Reding.</p> + +<p>"England has not that brilliant variety of colour," said Tenby.</p> + +<p>"But there is something so soothing in green."</p> + +<p>"You know, of course, Mr. Reding," said the tutor, "that there is plenty +of green in Italy, and in winter even more than in England; only there +are other colours too."</p> + +<p>"But I can't help fancying," said Charles, "that that mixture of colours +takes off from it the repose of English scenery."</p> + +<p>"The repose, for instance," said Tenby, "of Binsey Common, or Port +Meadow in winter."</p> + +<p>"Say in summer," said Reding; "if you choose place, I will choose time. +I think the University goes down just when Oxford begins to be most +beautiful. The walks and meadows are so fragrant and bright now, the hay +half carried, and the short new grass appearing."</p> + +<p>"Reding ought to live here all through the Long,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">{79}</a></span> said Tenby: "does any +one live through the Vacation, sir, in Oxford?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean they die before the end of it, Mr. Tenby?" asked Vincent. +"It can't be denied," he continued, "that many, like Mr. Reding, think +it a most pleasant time. <i>I</i> am fond of Oxford; but it is not my +<i>habitat</i> out of term-time."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think I should like to make it so," said Charles, "but, I +suppose, undergraduates are not allowed."</p> + +<p>Mr. Vincent answered with more than necessary gravity, "No;" it rested +with the Principal; but he conceived that he would not consent to it. +Vincent added that certainly there <i>were</i> parties who remained in Oxford +through the Long Vacation. It was said mysteriously.</p> + +<p>Charles answered that, if it was against college rules, there was no +help for it; else, were he reading for his degree, he should like +nothing better than to pass the Long Vacation in Oxford, if he might +judge by the pleasantness of the last ten days.</p> + +<p>"That is a compliment, Mr. Reding, to your company," said Vincent.</p> + +<p>At this moment the door opened, and in came the manciple with the dinner +paper, which Mr. Vincent had formally to run his eye over. "Watkins," he +said, giving it back to him, "I almost think to-day is one of the Fasts +of the Church. Go and look, Watkins, and bring me word."</p> + +<p>The astonished manciple, who had never been sent on such a commission in +his whole career before, hastened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">{80}</a></span> out of the room, to task his wits how +best to fulfil it. The question seemed to strike the company as +forcibly, for there was a sudden silence, which was succeeded by a +shuffling of feet and a leave-taking; as if, though they had secured +their ham and mutton at breakfast, they did not like to risk their +dinner. Watkins returned sooner than could have been expected. He said +that Mr. Vincent was right; to-day he had found was "the feast of the +Apostles."</p> + +<p>"The Vigil of St. Peter, you mean, Watkins," said Mr. Vincent; "I +thought so. Then let us have a plain beefsteak and a saddle of mutton; +no Portugal onions, Watkins, or currant-jelly; and some simple pudding, +Charlotte pudding, Watkins—that will do."</p> + +<p>Watkins vanished. By this time, Charles found himself alone with the +college authority; who began to speak to him in a more confidential +tone.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Reding," said he, "I did not like to question you before the +others, but I conceive you had no particular <i>meaning</i> in your praise of +Oxford in the Long Vacation? In the mouths of some it would have been +suspicious."</p> + +<p>Charles was all surprise.</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, Mr. Reding, as things stand," he proceeded, "it is +often a mark of <i>party</i>, this residence in the Vacation; though, of +course, there is nothing in the <i>thing</i> itself but what is perfectly +natural and right."</p> + +<p>Charles was all attention.</p> + +<p>"My good sir," the tutor proceeded, "avoid parties; be sure to avoid +party. You are young in your career among us. I always feel anxious +about young men of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">{81}</a></span> talent; there is the greatest danger of the talent +of the University being absorbed in party."</p> + +<p>Reding expressed a hope that nothing he had done had given cause to his +tutor's remark.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Mr. Vincent, "no;" yet with some slight hesitation; "no, I +don't know that it has. But I have thought some of your remarks and +questions at lecture were like a person pushing things <i>too far</i>, and +wishing to form a <i>system</i>."</p> + +<p>Charles was so much taken aback by the charge, that the unexplained +mystery of the Long Vacation went out of his head. He said he was "very +sorry," and "obliged;" and tried to recollect what he could have said to +give ground to Mr. Vincent's remark. Not being able at the moment to +recollect, he went on. "I assure you, sir, I know so little of parties +in the place, that I hardly know their leaders. I have heard persons +mentioned, but, if I tried, I think I should, in some cases, mismatch +names and opinions."</p> + +<p>"I believe it," said Vincent; "but you are young; I am cautioning you +against <i>tendencies</i>. You may suddenly find yourself absorbed before you +know where you are."</p> + +<p>Charles thought this a good opportunity of asking some questions in +detail, about points which puzzled him. He asked whether Dr. Brownside +was considered a safe divine to follow.</p> + +<p>"I hold, d'ye see," answered Vincent, "that all errors are counterfeits +of truth. Clever men say true things, Mr. Reding, true in their +substance, but," sinking his voice to a whisper, "they go <i>too far</i>. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">{82}</a></span> +might even be shown that all sects are in one sense but parts of the +Catholic Church. I don't say true parts, that is a further question; but +they <i>embody</i> great <i>principles</i>. The Quakers represent the principle of +simplicity and evangelical poverty; they even have a dress of their own, +like monks. The Independents represent the rights of the laity; the +Wesleyans cherish the devotional principle; the Irvingites, the +symbolical and mystical; the High Church party, the principle of +obedience; the Liberals are the guardians of reason. No party, then, I +conceive, is entirely right or entirely wrong. As to Dr. Brownside, +there certainly have been various opinions entertained about his +divinity; still, he is an able man, and I think you will gain <i>good</i>, +gain <i>good</i> from his teaching. But mind, I don't <i>recommend</i> him; yet I +respect him, and I consider that he says many things very well worth +your attention. I would advise you, then, to accept the <i>good</i> which his +sermons offer, without committing yourself to the <i>bad</i>. That, depend +upon it, Mr. Reding, is the golden though the obvious rule in these +matters."</p> + +<p>Charles said, in answer, that Mr. Vincent was overrating his powers; +that he had to learn before he could judge; and that he wished very much +to know whether Vincent could recommend him any book, in which he might +see at once <i>what</i> the true Church-of-England doctrine was on a number +of points which perplexed him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Vincent replied, he must be on his guard against dissipating his +mind with such reading, at a time when his University duties had a +definite claim upon him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">{83}</a></span> He ought to avoid all controversies of the +day, all authors of the day. He would advise him to read <i>no</i> living +authors. "Read dead authors alone," he continued; "dead authors are +safe. Our great divines," and he stood upright, "were models; 'there +were giants on the earth in those days,' as King George the Third had +once said of them to Dr. Johnson. They had that depth, and power, and +gravity, and fulness, and erudition; and they were so racy, always racy, +and what might be called English. They had that richness, too, such a +mine of thought, such a world of opinion, such activity of mind, such +inexhaustible resource, such diversity, too. Then they were so eloquent; +the majestic Hooker, the imaginative Taylor, the brilliant Hall, the +learning of Barrow, the strong sense of South, the keen logic of +Chillingworth, good, honest old Burnet," etc., etc.</p> + +<p>There did not seem much reason why he should stop at one moment more +than another; at length, however, he did stop. It was prose, but it was +pleasant prose to Charles; he knew just enough about these writers to +feel interested in hearing them talked about, and to him Vincent seemed +to be saying a good deal, when in fact he was saying very little. When +he stopped, Charles said he believed that there were persons in the +University who were promoting the study of these authors.</p> + +<p>Mr. Vincent looked grave. "It is true," he said; "but, my young friend, +I have already hinted to you that indifferent things are perverted to +the purposes of <i>party</i>. At this moment the names of some of our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">{84}</a></span> +greatest divines are little better than a watchword by which the +opinions of living individuals are signified."</p> + +<p>"Which opinions, I suppose," Charles answered, "are not to be found in +those authors."</p> + +<p>"I'll not say that," said Mr. Vincent. "I have the greatest respect for +the individuals in question, and I am not denying that they have done +good to our Church by drawing attention in this lax day to the old +Church-of-England divinity. But it is one thing to agree with these +gentlemen; another," laying his hand on Charles's shoulder, "another to +belong to their party. Do not make man your master; get good from all; +think well of all persons, and you will be a wise man."</p> + +<p>Reding inquired, with some timidity, if this was not something like what +Dr. Brownside had said in the University pulpit; but perhaps the latter +advocated a toleration of opinions in a different sense? Mr. Vincent +answered rather shortly, that he had not heard Dr. Brownside's sermon; +but, for himself, he had been speaking only of persons in our own +communion.</p> + +<p>"Our Church," he said, "admitted of great liberty of thought within her +pale. Even our greatest divines differed from each other in many +respects; nay, Bishop Taylor differed from himself. It was a great +principle in the English Church. Her true children agree to differ. In +truth," he continued, "there is that robust, masculine, noble +independence in the English mind, which refuses to be tied down to +artificial shapes, but is like, I will say, some great and beautiful +production of nature,—a tree, which is rich in foliage and fantastic +in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">{85}</a></span> limb, no sickly denizen of the hothouse, or helpless dependent of +the garden wall, but in careless magnificence sheds its fruits upon the +free earth, for the bird of the air and the beast of the field, and all +sorts of cattle, to eat thereof and rejoice."</p> + +<p>When Charles came away, he tried to think what he had gained by his +conversation with Mr. Vincent; not exactly what he had wanted, some +practical rules to guide his mind and keep him steady; but still some +useful hints. He had already been averse to parties, and offended at +what he saw of individuals attached to them. Vincent had confirmed him +in his resolution to keep aloof from them, and to attend to his duties +in the place. He felt pleased to have had this talk with him; but what +could he mean by suspecting a tendency in himself to push things too +far, and thereby to implicate himself in party? He was obliged to resign +himself to ignorance on the subject, and to be content with keeping a +watch over himself in future.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">{86}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_XI" id="one_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">No</span> opportunity has occurred of informing the reader that, during the +last week or two, Charles had accidentally been a good deal thrown +across Willis, the <i>umbra</i> of White at Bateman's breakfast-party. He had +liked his looks on that occasion, when he was dumb; he did not like him +so much when he heard him talk; still he could not help being interested +in him, and not the least for this reason, that Willis seemed to have +taken a great fancy to himself. He certainly did court Charles, and +seemed anxious to stand well with him. Charles, however, did not like +his mode of talking better than he did White's; and when he first saw +his rooms, there was much in them which shocked both his good sense and +his religious principles. A large ivory crucifix, in a glass case, was a +conspicuous ornament between the windows; an engraving, representing the +Blessed Trinity, as is usual in Catholic countries, hung over the +fireplace, and a picture of the Madonna and St. Dominic was opposite to +it. On the mantelpiece were a rosary, a thuribulum, and other tokens of +Catholicism, of which Charles did not know the uses; a missal, ritual, +and some Catholic tracts, lay on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">{87}</a></span> table; and, as he happened to come +on Willis unexpectedly, he found him sitting in a vestment more like a +cassock than a reading-gown, and engaged upon some portion of the +Breviary. Virgil and Sophocles, Herodotus and Cicero seemed, as impure +pagans, to have hid themselves in corners, or flitted away, before the +awful presence of the Ancient Church. Charles had taken upon himself to +protest against some of these singularities, but without success.</p> + +<p>On the evening before his departure for the country he had occasion to +go towards Folly Bridge to pay a bill, when he was startled, as he +passed what he had ever taken for a dissenting chapel, to see Willis +come out of it. He hardly could believe he saw correctly; he knew, +indeed, that Willis had been detained in Oxford, as he had been himself; +but what had compelled him to a visit so extraordinary as that which he +had just made, Charles had no means of determining.</p> + +<p>"Willis!" he cried, as he stopped.</p> + +<p>Willis coloured, and tried to look easy.</p> + +<p>"Do come a few paces with me," said Charles. "What in the world has +taken you there? Is it not a dissenting meeting?"</p> + +<p>"Dissenting meeting!" cried Willis, surprised and offended in his turn: +"what on earth could make you think I would go to a dissenting meeting?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I beg your pardon," said Charles; "I recollect now: it's the +exhibition room. However, <i>once</i> it <i>was</i> a chapel: that's my mistake. +Isn't it what is called 'the Old Methodist Chapel?' I never was there; +they showed there the <i>Dio-astro-doxon</i>, so I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">{88}</a></span> think they called it." +Charles talked on, to cover his own mistake, for he was ashamed of the +charge he had made.</p> + +<p>Willis did not know whether he was in jest or earnest. "Reding," he +said, "don't go on; you offend me."</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" said Charles.</p> + +<p>"You know well enough," answered Willis, "though you wish to annoy me."</p> + +<p>"I don't indeed."</p> + +<p>"It's the Catholic church," said Willis.</p> + +<p>Reding was silent a moment; then he said, "Well, I don't think you have +mended the matter; it <i>is</i> a dissenting meeting, call it what you will, +though not the kind of one I meant."</p> + +<p>"What can you mean?" asked Willis.</p> + +<p>"Rather, what mean <i>you</i> by going to such places?" retorted Charles; +"why, it is against your oath."</p> + +<p>"My oath! what oath?"</p> + +<p>"There's not an oath now; but there was an oath till lately," said +Reding; "and we still make a very solemn engagement. Don't you recollect +your matriculation at the Vice-Chancellor's, and what oaths and +declarations you made?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I made: my tutor told me nothing about it. I signed a +book or two."</p> + +<p>"You did more," said Reding. "I was told most carefully. You solemnly +engaged to keep the statutes; and one statute is, not to go into any +dissenting chapel or meeting whatever."</p> + +<p>"Catholics are not Dissenters," said Willis.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">{89}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, don't speak so," said Charles; "you know it's meant to include +them. The statute wishes us to keep from all places of worship whatever +but our own."</p> + +<p>"But it is an illegal declaration or vow," said Willis, "and so not +binding."</p> + +<p>"Where did you find that get-off?" said Charles; "the priest put that +into your head."</p> + +<p>"I don't know the priest; I never spoke a word to him," answered Willis.</p> + +<p>"Well, any how, it's not your own answer," said Reding; "and does not +help you. I am no casuist; but if it is an illegal engagement you should +not continue to enjoy the benefit of it."</p> + +<p>"What benefit?"</p> + +<p>"Your cap and gown; a university education; the chance of a scholarship +or fellowship. Give up these, and then plead, if you will, and lawfully, +that you are quit of your engagement; but don't sail under false +colours: don't take the benefit and break the stipulation."</p> + +<p>"You take it too seriously; there are half a hundred statutes <i>you</i> +don't keep, any more than I. You are most inconsistent."</p> + +<p>"Well, if we don't keep them," said Charles, "I suppose it is in points +where the authorities don't enforce them; for instance, they don't mean +us to dress in brown, though the statutes order it."</p> + +<p>"But they <i>do</i> mean to keep you from walking down High Street in +beaver," answered Willis; "for the Proctors march up and down, and send +you back, if they catch you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">{90}</a></span></p> + +<p>"But <i>this</i> is a different matter," said Reding, changing his ground; +"this is a matter of religion. It can't be right to go to strange places +of worship or meetings."</p> + +<p>"Why," said Willis, "if we are one Church with the Roman Catholics, I +can't make out for the life of me how it's wrong for us to go to them or +them to us."</p> + +<p>"I'm no divine, I don't understand what is meant by one Church," said +Charles; "but I know well that there's not a bishop, not a clergyman, +not a sober churchman in the land but would give it against you. It's a +sheer absurdity."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk in that way," answered Willis, "please don't. I feel all my +heart drawn to the Catholic worship; our own service is so cold."</p> + +<p>"That's just what every stiff Dissenter says," answered Charles; "every +poor cottager, too, who knows no better, and goes after the +Methodists—after her dear Mr. Spoutaway or the preaching cobbler. <i>She</i> +says (I have heard them), 'Oh, sir, I suppose we ought to go where we +get most good. Mr. So-and-so goes to my heart—he goes through me.'"</p> + +<p>Willis laughed; "Well, not a bad reason, as times go, <i>I</i> think," said +he: "poor souls, what better means of judging have they? how can you +hope they will like 'the Scripture moveth us'? Really you are making too +much of it. This is only the second time I have been there, and, I tell +you in earnest, I find my mind filled with awe and devotion there; as I +think you would too. I really am better for it; I cannot pray in church; +there's a bad smell there, and the pews hide everything; I can't see +through a deal board. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">{91}</a></span> here, when I went in, I found all still, and +calm, the space open, and, in the twilight, the Tabernacle just visible, +pointed out by the lamp."</p> + +<p>Charles looked very uncomfortable. "Really, Willis," he said, "I don't +know what to say to you. Heaven forbid that I should speak against the +Roman Catholics; I know nothing about them. But <i>this</i> I know, that you +are not a Roman Catholic, and have no business there. If they have such +sacred things among them as those you allude to, still these are not +yours; you are an intruder. I know nothing about it; I don't like to +give a judgment, I am sure. But it's a tampering with sacred things; +running here and there, touching and tasting, taking up, putting down. I +don't like it," he added, with vehemence; "it's taking liberties with +God."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear Reding, please don't speak so very severely," said poor +Willis; "now what have I done more than you would do yourself, were you +in France or Italy? Do you mean to say you wouldn't enter the churches +abroad?"</p> + +<p>"I will only decide about what is before me," answered Reding; "when I +go abroad, then will be the time to think about your question. It is +quite enough to know what we ought to do at the moment, and I am clear +you have been doing wrong. How did you find your way there?"</p> + +<p>"White took me."</p> + +<p>"Then there is one man in the world more thoughtless than you: do many +of the gownsmen go there?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of; one or two have gone from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">{92}</a></span> curiosity; there is no +practice of going, at least this is what I am told."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles, "you must promise me you will not go again. Come, +we won't part till you do."</p> + +<p>"That is too much," said Willis, gently; then, disengaging his arm from +Reding's, he suddenly darted away from him, saying, "Good-bye, good-bye; +to our next merry meeting—<i>au revoir</i>."</p> + +<p>There was no help for it. Charles walked slowly home, saying to himself: +"What if, after all, the Roman Catholic Church is the true Church? I +wish I knew what to believe; no one will tell me what to believe; I am +so left to myself." Then he thought: "I suppose I know quite enough for +practice—more than I <i>do</i> practise; and I ought surely to be contented +and thankful."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">{93}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_XII" id="one_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Charles</span> was an affectionate son, and the Long Vacation passed very +happily at home. He was up early, and read steadily till luncheon, and +then he was at the service of his father, mother, and sisters for the +rest of the day. He loved the calm, quiet country; he loved the +monotonous flow of time, when each day is like the other; and, after the +excitement of Oxford, the secluded parsonage was like a haven beyond the +tossing of the waves. The whirl of opinions and perplexities which had +encircled him at Oxford now were like the distant sound of the +ocean—they reminded him of his present security. The undulating +meadows, the green lanes, the open heath, the common with its +wide-spreading dusky elms, the high timber which fringed the level path +from village to village, ever and anon broken and thrown into groups, or +losing itself in copses—even the gate, and the stile, and the +turnpike-road had the charm, not of novelty, but of long familiar use; +they had the poetry of many recollections. Nor was the dilapidated, +deformed church, with its outside staircases, its unsightly galleries, +its wide intruded windows, its uncouth pews, its low nunting table, its +forlorn vestry, and its damp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">{94}</a></span> earthy smell, without its pleasant +associations to the inner man; for there it was that for many a year, +Sunday after Sunday, he had heard his dear father read and preach; there +were the old monuments, with Latin inscriptions and strange devices, the +black boards with white letters, the Resurgams and grinning skulls, the +fire-buckets, the faded militia-colours, and, almost as much a fixture, +the old clerk, with a Welsh wig over his ears, shouting the responses +out of place—which had arrested his imagination, and awed him when a +child. And then there was his home itself; its well-known rooms, its +pleasant routine, its order, and its comfort—an old and true friend, +the dearer to him because he had made new ones. "Where I shall be in +time to come I know not," he said to himself; "I am but a boy; many +things which I have not a dream of, which my imagination cannot compass, +may come on me before I die—if I live; but here at least, and now, I am +happy, and I will enjoy my happiness. Some say that school is the +pleasantest time of one's life; this does not exclude college. I suppose +care is what makes life so wearing. At present I have no care, no +responsibility; I suppose I shall feel a little when I go up for my +degree. Care is a terrible thing; I have had a little of it at times at +school. What a strange thing to fancy, I shall be one day twenty-five or +thirty! How the weeks are flying by! the Vacation will soon be over. Oh, +I am so happy, it quite makes me afraid. Yet I shall have strength for +my day."</p> + +<p>Sometimes, however, his thoughts took a sadder turn, and he anticipated +the future more vividly than he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">{95}</a></span> enjoyed the present. Mr. Malcolm had +come to see them, after an absence from the parsonage for several years: +his visit was a great pleasure to Mr. Reding, and not much less to +himself, to whom a green home and a family circle were agreeable sights, +after his bachelor-life at college. He had been a great favourite with +Charles and his sisters as children, though now his popularity with them +for the most part rested on the memory of the past. When he told them +amusing stories, or allowed them to climb his knee and take off his +spectacles, he did all that was necessary to gain their childish hearts; +more is necessary to conciliate the affection of young men and women; +and thus it is not surprising that he lived in their minds principally +by prescription. He neither knew this, nor would have thought much about +it if he had; for, like many persons of advancing years, he made himself +very much his own centre, did not care to enter into the minds of +others, did not consult for them, or find his happiness in them. He was +kind and friendly to the young people, as he would be kind to a +canary-bird or a lap-dog; it was a sort of external love; and, though +they got on capitally with him, they did not miss him when gone, nor +would have been much troubled to know that he was never to come again. +Charles drove him about the country, stamped his letters, secured him +his newspapers from the neighbouring town, and listened to his stories +about Oxford and Oxford men. He really liked him, and wished to please +him; but, as to consulting him in any serious matter, or going to him +for comfort in affliction, he would as soon have thought of betaking him +to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">{96}</a></span> Dan the pedlar, or old Isaac who played the Sunday bassoon.</p> + +<p>"How have your peaches been this year, Malcolm?" said Mr. Reding one day +after dinner to his guest.</p> + +<p>"You ought to know that we have no peaches in Oxford," answered Mr. +Malcolm.</p> + +<p>"My memory plays me false, then: I had a vision of, at least, October +peaches on one occasion, and fine ones too."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you mean at old Tom Spindle's, the jockey's," answered Mr. Malcolm; +"it's true, he had a bit of a brick wall, and was proud of it. But +peaches come when there is no one in Oxford to eat them; so either the +tree, or at least the fruit, is a great rarity there. Oxford wasn't so +empty once; you have old mulberry-trees there in record of better days."</p> + +<p>"At that time, too," said Charles, "I suppose, the more expensive fruits +were not cultivated. Mulberries are the witness, not only of a full +college, but of simple tastes."</p> + +<p>"Charles is secretly cutting at our hothouse here," said Mr. Reding; "as +if our first father did not prefer fruits and flowers to beef and +mutton."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Charles, "I think peaches capital things; and as to +flowers, I am even too fond of scents."</p> + +<p>"Charles has some theory, then, about scents, I'll be bound," said his +father; "I never knew a boy who so placed his likings and dislikings on +fancies. He began to eat olives directly he read the Œdipus of +Sophocles; and, I verily believe, will soon give up oranges from his +dislike to King William."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">{97}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Every one does so," said Charles: "who would not be in the fashion? +There's Aunt Kitty, she calls a bonnet, 'a sweet' one year, which makes +her 'a perfect fright' the next."</p> + +<p>"You're right, papa, in this instance," said his mother; "I know he has +some good reason, though I never can recollect it, why he smells a rose, +or distils lavender. What is it, my dear Mary?"</p> + +<p>"'Relics ye are of Eden's bowers,'" said she.</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, that was precisely your own reason just now," said Charles to +his father.</p> + +<p>"There's more than that," said Mrs. Reding, "if I knew what it was."</p> + +<p>"He thinks the scent more intellectual than the other senses," said +Mary, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Such a boy for paradoxes!" said his mother.</p> + +<p>"Well, so it is in a certain way," said Charles, "but I can't explain. +Sounds and scents are more ethereal, less material; they have no +shape—like the angels."</p> + +<p>Mr. Malcolm laughed. "Well, I grant it, Charles," he said; "they are +length without breadth!"</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear the like?" said Mrs. Reding, laughing too; "don't +encourage him, Mr. Malcolm; you are worse than he. Angels length without +breadth!"</p> + +<p>"They pass from place to place, they come, they go," continued Mr. +Malcolm.</p> + +<p>"They conjure up the past so vividly," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"But sounds surely more than scents," said Mr. Malcolm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">{98}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pardon me; the reverse as <i>I</i> think," answered Charles.</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> a paradox, Charles," said Mr. Malcolm; "the smell of +roast-beef never went further than to remind a man of dinner; but sounds +are pathetic and inspiring."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, but think of this," said Charles, "scents are complete in +themselves, yet do not consist of parts. Think how very distinct the +smell of a rose is from a pink, a pink from a sweet-pea, a sweet-pea +from a stock, a stock from lilac, lilac from lavender, lavender from +jasmine, jasmine from honeysuckle, honeysuckle from hawthorn, hawthorn +from hyacinth, hyacinth"——</p> + +<p>"Spare us," interrupted Mr. Malcolm; "you are going through the index of +Loudon!"</p> + +<p>"And these are only the scents of flowers; how different flowers smell +from fruits, fruits from spices, spices from roast-beef or pork-cutlets, +and so on. Now, what I was coming to is this—these scents are perfectly +distinct from each other, and <i>sui generis</i>; they never can be confused; +yet each is communicated to the apprehension in an instant. Sights take +up a great space, a tune is a succession of sounds; but scents are at +once specific and complete, yet indivisible. Who can halve a scent? they +need neither time nor space; thus they are immaterial or spiritual."</p> + +<p>"Charles hasn't been to Oxford for nothing," said his mother, laughing +and looking at Mary; "this is what I call chopping logic!"</p> + +<p>"Well done, Charles," cried Mr. Malcolm; "and now, since you have such +clear notions of the power of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">{99}</a></span> smells, you ought, like the man in the +story, to be satisfied with smelling at your dinner, and grow fat upon +it. It's a shame you sit down to table."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," answered Charles, "some people <i>do</i> seem to thrive on snuff +at least."</p> + +<p>"For shame, Charles!" said Mr. Malcolm; "you have seen me use the +common-room snuff-box to keep myself awake after dinner; but nothing +more. I keep a box in my pocket merely as a bauble—it was a present. +You should have lived when I was young. There was old Dr. Troughton of +Nun's Hall, he carried his snuff loose in his pocket; and old Mrs. +Vice-Principal Daffy used to lay a train along her arm, and fire it with +her nose. Doctors of medicine took it as a preservative against +infection, and doctors of divinity against drowsiness in church."</p> + +<p>"They take wine against infection now," said Mr. Reding; "it's a much +surer protective."</p> + +<p>"Wine?" cried Mr. Malcolm; "oh, they didn't take less wine then, as you +and I know. On certain solemn occasions they made a point of getting +drunk, the whole college, from the Vice-Principal or Sub-Warden down to +the scouts. Heads of houses were kept in order by their wives; but I +assure you the jolly god came <i>very</i> near Mr. Vice-Chancellor himself. +There was old Dr. Sturdy of St. Michael's, a great martinet in his time. +One day the King passed through Oxford; Sturdy, a tall, upright, +iron-faced man, had to meet him in procession at Magdalen Bridge, and +walked down with his pokers before him, gold and silver, vergers, cocked +hats, and the rest. There wasn't one of them that wasn't in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">{100}</a></span> liquor. +Think of the good old man's horror, Majesty in the distance, and his own +people swaying to and fro under his very nose, and promising to leave +him for the gutter before the march was ended."</p> + +<p>"No one can get tipsy with snuff, I grant," said Mr. Reding; "but if +wine has done some men harm it has done others a deal of good."</p> + +<p>"Hair-powder is as bad as snuff," said Mary, preferring the former +subject; "there's old Mr. Butler of Cooling, his wig is so large and +full of powder that when he nods his head I am sure to sneeze."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but all these are accidents, young lady," said Mr. Malcolm, put out +by this block to the conversation, and running off somewhat testily in +another direction; "accidents after all. Old people are always the same; +so are young. Each age has its own fashion: if Mr. Butler wore no wig, +still there would be something about him odd and strange to young eyes. +Charles, don't you be an old bachelor. No one cares for old people. +Marry, my dear boy; look out betimes for a virtuous young woman, who +will make you an attentive wife."</p> + +<p>Charles slightly coloured, and his sister laughed as if there was some +understanding between them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Malcolm continued: "Don't wait till you want some one to buy flannel +for your rheumatism or gout; marry betimes."</p> + +<p>"You will let me take my degree first, sir?" said Charles.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, take your M.A.'s if you will; but don't become an old +Fellow. Don't wait till forty; people make the strangest mistakes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">{101}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dear Charles will make a kind and affectionate husband, I am sure," +said his mother, "when the time comes; and come it will, though not just +yet. Yes, my dear boy," she added, nodding at him, "you will not be able +to escape your destiny, when it comes."</p> + +<p>"Charles, you must know," said Mr. Reding to his guest, "is romantic in +his notions just now. I believe it is that he thinks no one good enough +for him. Oh, my dear Charlie, don't let me pain you, I meant nothing +serious; but somehow he has not hit it off very well with some young +ladies here, who expected more attention than he cared to give."</p> + +<p>"I am sure," said Mary, "Charles is most attentive whenever there is +occasion, and always has his eyes about him to do a service; only he's a +bad hand at small-talk."</p> + +<p>"All will come in time, my dear," said his mother; "a good son makes a +good husband."</p> + +<p>"And a very loving papa," said Mr. Malcolm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, spare me, sir," said poor Charles; "how have I deserved this?"</p> + +<p>"Well," proceeded Mr. Malcolm, "and young ladies ought to marry betimes +too."</p> + +<p>"Come, Mary, <i>your</i> turn is coming," cried Charles; and taking his +sister's hand, he threw up the sash, and escaped with her into the +garden.</p> + +<p>They crossed the lawn, and took refuge in a shrubbery. "How strange it +is!" said Mary, as they strolled along the winding walk; "we used to +like Mr. Malcolm so, as children; but now—I like him <i>still</i>, but he is +not the same."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">{102}</a></span></p> + +<p>"We are older," said her brother; "different things take us now."</p> + +<p>"He used to be so kind," continued she; "when he was coming, the day was +looked out for; and mamma said, 'Take care you be good when Mr. Malcolm +comes.' And he was sure to bring a twelfth-cake, or a Noah's ark, or +something of the sort. And then he romped with us, and let us make fun +of him."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it isn't he that is changed," said Charles, "but we; we are in +the time of life to change; we have changed already, and shall change +still."</p> + +<p>"What a mercy it is," said his sister, "that we are so happy among +ourselves as a family! If we change, we shall change together, as apples +of one stock; if one fails, the other does. Thus we are always the same +to each other."</p> + +<p>"It is a mercy, indeed," said Charles; "we are so blest that I am +sometimes quite frightened."</p> + +<p>His sister looked earnestly at him. He laughed a little to turn off the +edge of his seriousness. "You would know what I mean, dear Mary, if you +had read Herodotus. A Greek tyrant feared his own excessive prosperity, +and therefore made a sacrifice to fortune. I mean, he gave up something +which he held most precious; he took a ring from his finger and cast it +into the sea, lest the Deity should afflict him, if he did not afflict +himself."</p> + +<p>"My dear Charles," she answered, "if we do but enjoy God's gifts +thankfully, and take care not to set our hearts on them or to abuse +them, we need not fear for their continuance."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">{103}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles, "there's one text which has ever dwelt on my mind, +'Rejoice with trembling.' I can't take full, unrestrained pleasure in +anything."</p> + +<p>"Why not, if you look at it as God's gift?" asked Mary.</p> + +<p>"I don't defend it," he replied; "it's my way; it may be a selfish +prudence, for what I know; but I am sure that, did I give my heart to +any creature, I should be withdrawing it from God. How easily could I +idolize these sweet walks, which we have known for so many years!"</p> + +<p>They walked on in silence. "Well," said Mary, "whatever we lose, no +change can affect us as a family. While we are we, we are to each other +what nothing external can be to us, whether as given or as taken away."</p> + +<p>Charles made no answer.</p> + +<p>"What has come to you, dear Charles?" she said, stopping and looking at +him; then, gently removing his hair and smoothing his forehead, she +said, "you are so sad to-day."</p> + +<p>"Dearest Mary," he made answer, "nothing's the matter, indeed. I think +it is Mr. Malcolm who has put me out. It's so stupid to talk of the +prospects of a boy like me. Don't look so, I mean nothing; only it +annoys me."</p> + +<p>Mary smiled.</p> + +<p>"What I mean is," continued Charles, "that we can rely on nothing here, +and are fools if we build on the future."</p> + +<p>"We can rely on each other," she repeated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">{104}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, dear Mary, don't say so; it frightens me."</p> + +<p>She looked round at him surprised, and almost frightened herself.</p> + +<p>"Dearest," he continued, "I mean nothing; only everything is so +uncertain here below."</p> + +<p>"We are sure of each other, Charles."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mary," and he kissed her affectionately, "it is true, most true;" +then he added, "all I meant was that it seems presumptuous to say so. +David and Jonathan were parted; St. Paul and St. Barnabas."</p> + +<p>Tears stood in Mary's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what an ass I am," he said, "for thus teasing you about nothing; +no, I only mean that there is One <i>only</i> who cannot die, who never +changes, only One. It can't be wrong to remember this. Do you recollect +Cowper's beautiful lines? I know them without having learned them—they +struck me so much the first time I read them;" and he repeated them:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">Thou art the source and centre of all minds,</div> +<div class="verse">Their only point of rest, Eternal Word.</div> +<div class="verse">From Thee departing, they are lost, and rove</div> +<div class="verse">At random, without honour, hope, or peace.</div> +<div class="verse">From Thee is all that soothes the life of man,</div> +<div class="verse">His high endeavour and his glad success,</div> +<div class="verse">His strength to suffer and his will to serve.</div> +<div class="verse">But oh, Thou Sovereign Giver of all good,</div> +<div class="verse">Thou art of all Thy gifts Thyself the crown;</div> +<div class="verse">Give what Thou canst, without Thee we are poor,</div> +<div class="verse">And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.</div> +</div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">{105}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_XIII" id="one_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">October</span> came at length, and with it Charles's thoughts were turned again +to Oxford. One or two weeks passed by; then a few days; and it was time +to be packing. His father parted with him with even greater emotion than +when he first went to school. He would himself drive him in the phaeton +to the neighbouring town, from which the omnibus ran to the railroad, +though he had the gout flying about him; and when the moment for parting +came he could not get himself to give up his hand, as if he had +something to say which he could not recollect or master.</p> + +<p>"Well, Christmas will soon come," he said; "we must part, it's no use +delaying it. Write to us soon, dear boy; and tell us all about yourself +and your matters. Tell us about your friends; they are nice young men +apparently: but I have great confidence in your prudence; you have more +prudence than some of them. Your tutor seems a valuable man, from what +you tell me," he went on repeating what had passed between him and +Charles many times before; "a sound, well-judging man, that Mr. Vincent. +Sheffield is too clever; he is young; you have an older head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">{106}</a></span> It's no +good my going on; I have said all this before; and you may be late for +the train. Well, God bless you, my dearest Charlie, and make you a +blessing. May you be happier and better than your father! I have ever +been blest all my life long—wonderfully blest. Blessings have been +poured on me from my youth, far above my deserts; may they be doubled +upon you! Good-bye, my beloved Charles, good-bye!"</p> + +<p>Charles had to pass a day or two at the house of a relative who lived a +little way out of London. While he was there a letter arrived for him, +forwarded from home; it was from Willis, dated from London, and +announced that he had come to a very important decision, and should not +return to Oxford. Charles was fairly in the world again, plunged into +the whirl of opinions: how sad a contrast to his tranquil home! There +was no mistaking what the letter meant; and he set out at once with the +chance of finding the writer at the house from which he dated it. It was +a lodging at the west-end of town; and he reached it about noon.</p> + +<p>He found Willis in company with a person apparently two or three years +older. Willis started on seeing him.</p> + +<p>"Who would have thought! what brings you here?" he said; "I thought you +were in the country." Then to his companion, "This is the friend I was +speaking to you about, Morley. A happy meeting; sit down, dear Reding; I +have much to tell you."</p> + +<p>Charles sat down all suspense, looking at Willis with such keen anxiety +that the latter was forced to cut the matter short. "Reding, I am a +Catholic."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">{107}</a></span></p> + +<p>Charles threw himself back in his chair, and turned pale.</p> + +<p>"My dear Reding, what is the matter with you? why don't you speak to +me?"</p> + +<p>Charles was still silent; at last, stooping forward, with his elbows on +his knees, and his head on his hands, he said, in a low voice, "O +Willis, what have you done!"</p> + +<p>"Done?" said Willis; "what <i>you</i> should do, and half Oxford besides. O +Reding, I'm so happy!"</p> + +<p>"Alas, alas!" said Charles; "but what is the good of my staying?—all +good attend you, Willis; good-bye!"</p> + +<p>"No, my good Reding, you don't leave me so soon, having found me so +unexpectedly; and you have had a long walk, I dare say; sit down, +there's a good fellow; we shall have luncheon soon, and you must not go +without taking your part in it." He took Charles's hat from him, as he +spoke; and Charles, in a mixture of feelings, let him have his way.</p> + +<p>"O Willis, so you have separated yourself from us for ever!" he said; +"you have taken your course, we keep ours: our paths are different."</p> + +<p>"Not so," said Willis; "you must follow me, and we shall be one still."</p> + +<p>Charles was half offended; "Really I must go," he said, and he rose; +"you must not talk in that manner."</p> + +<p>"Pray, forgive me," answered Willis; "I won't do so again; but I could +not help it; I am not in a common state, I'm so happy!"</p> + +<p>A thought struck Reding. "Tell me, Willis," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">{108}</a></span> said, "your exact +position; in what sense are you a Catholic? What is to prevent your +returning with me to Oxford?"</p> + +<p>His companion interposed: "I am taking a liberty perhaps," he said; "but +Mr. Willis has been regularly received into the Catholic Church."</p> + +<p>"I have not introduced you," said Willis. "Reding, let me introduce Mr. +Morley; Morley, Mr. Reding. Yes, Reding, I owe it to him that I am a +Catholic. I have been on a tour with him abroad. We met with a good +priest in France, who consented to receive my abjuration."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think he might profitably have examined into your state of mind +a little before he did so," said Reding; "<i>you</i> are not the person to +become a Catholic, Willis."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Because," answered Reding, "you are more of a Dissenter than a +Catholic. I beg your pardon," he added, seeing Willis look up sharply, +"let me be frank with you, pray do. You were attached to the Church of +Rome, not as a child to a mother, but in a wayward roving way, as a +matter of fancy or liking, or (excuse me) as a greedy boy to something +nice; and you pursued your object by disobeying the authorities set over +you."</p> + +<p>It was as much as Willis could bear; he said, he thought he recollected +a text about "obeying God <i>rather</i> than men."</p> + +<p>"I <i>see</i> you have disobeyed men," retorted Charles; "I <i>trust</i> you have +been obeying God."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">{109}</a></span></p> + +<p>Willis thought him rude, and would not speak.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morley began: "If you knew the circumstances better," he said, "you +would doubtless judge differently. I consider Mr. Willis to be just the +very person on whom it was incumbent to join the Church, and who will +make an excellent Catholic. You must blame, not the venerable priest who +received him, but me. The good man saw his devotion, his tears, his +humility, his earnest desire; but the state of his mind he learned +through me, who speak French better than Mr. Willis. However, he had +quite enough conversation with him in French and Latin. He could not +reject a postulant for salvation; it was impossible. Had you been he, +you would have done the same."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, perhaps I have been unjust to him and you," said Charles; +"however, I cannot augur well of this."</p> + +<p>"You are judging, sir," answered Mr. Morley, "let me say it, of things +you do not know. You do not know what the Catholic religion is, you do +not know what its grace is, or the gift of faith."</p> + +<p>The speaker was a layman; he spoke with earnestness the more intense, +because quiet. Charles felt himself reproved by his manner; his good +taste suggested to him that he had been too vehement in the presence of +a stranger; yet he did not feel the less confidence in his cause. He +paused before he answered; then he said briefly, that he was aware that +he did not know the Roman Catholic religion, but he knew Mr. Willis. He +could not help giving his opinion that good would not come of it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">{110}</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> have ever been a Catholic," said Mr. Morley; "so far I cannot judge +of members of the Church of England; but this I know, that the Catholic +Church is the only true Church. I may be wrong in many things; I cannot +be wrong in this. This too I know, that the Catholic faith is one, and +that no other Church has faith. The Church of England has no faith. You, +my dear sir, have not faith."</p> + +<p>This was a home-thrust; the controversies of Oxford passed before +Reding's mind; but he instantly recovered himself. "You cannot expect," +said he, smiling, "that I, almost a boy, should be able to argue with +yourself, or to defend my Church or to explain her faith. I am content +to hold that faith, to hold what she holds, without professing to be a +divine. This is the doctrine which I have been taught at Oxford. I am +under teaching there, I am not yet taught. Excuse me, then, if I decline +an argument with you. With Mr. Willis, it is natural that I should +argue; we are equals, and understand each other; but I am no +theologian."</p> + +<p>Here Willis cried out, "O my dear Reding, what I say is, 'Come and see.' +Don't stand at the door arguing; but enter the great home of the soul, +enter and adore."</p> + +<p>"But," said Reding, "surely God wills us to be guided by reason; I don't +mean that reason is everything, but it is at least something. Surely we +ought not to act without it, against it."</p> + +<p>"But is not doubt a dreadful state?" said Willis; "a most perilous +state? No state is safe but that of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">{111}</a></span> faith. Can it be safe to be without +faith? Now <i>have</i> you faith in your Church? I know you well enough to +know you have not; where, then, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Willis, you have misunderstood me most extraordinarily," said Charles: +"ten thousand thoughts pass through the mind, and if it is safe to note +down and bring against a man his stray words, I suppose there's nothing +he mayn't be accused of holding. You must be alluding to some +half-sentence or other of mine, which I have forgotten, and which was no +real sample of my sentiments. Do you mean I have no worship? and does +not worship presuppose faith? I have much to learn, I am conscious; but +I wish to learn it from the Church under whose shadow my lot is cast, +and with whom I am content."</p> + +<p>"He confesses," said Willis, "that he has no faith; he confesses that he +is in doubt. My dear Reding, can you sincerely plead that you are in +invincible ignorance after what has passed between us? now, suppose for +an instant that Catholicism is true, is it not certain that you now have +an opportunity of embracing it? and if you do not, are you in a state to +die in?"</p> + +<p>Reding was perplexed how to answer; that is, he could not with the +necessary quickness analyze and put into words the answer which his +reason suggested to Willis's rapid interrogatories. Mr. Morley had kept +silence, lest Charles should have two upon him at once; but when Willis +paused, and Charles did not reply, he interposed. He said that all the +calls in Scripture were obeyed with promptitude by those who were +called; and that our Lord would not suffer one man even to go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">{112}</a></span> and bury +his father. Reding answered, that in those cases the voice of Christ was +actually heard; He was on earth, in bodily presence; now, however, the +very question was, <i>which</i> was the voice of Christ; and whether the +Church of Rome did or did not speak with the voice of Christ;—that +surely we ought to act prudently; that Christ could not wish us to act +otherwise; that, for himself, he had no doubt that he was in the place +where Providence wished him to be; but, even if he had any doubts +whether Christ was calling him elsewhere (which he had not), but if he +had, he should certainly think that Christ called him in the way and +method of careful examination,—that prudence was the divinely appointed +means of coming at the truth.</p> + +<p>"Prudence!" cried Willis, "such prudence as St. Thomas's, I suppose, +when he determined to see before believing."</p> + +<p>Charles hesitated to answer.</p> + +<p>"I see it," continued Willis; and, starting up, he seized his arm; +"come, my dear fellow, come with me directly; let us go to the good +priest who lives two streets off. You shall be received this very day. +On with your hat." And, before Charles could show any resistance, he was +half out of the room.</p> + +<p>He could not help laughing, in spite of his vexation; he disengaged his +arm, and deliberately sat down. "Not so fast," he said; "we are not +quite this sort of person."</p> + +<p>Willis looked awkward for a moment; then he said, "Well, at least you +must go into a retreat; you must go forthwith. Morley, do you know when +Mr. de Mowbray<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">{113}</a></span> or Father Agostino gives his next retreat? Reding, it is +just what you want, just what all Oxford men want; I think you will not +refuse me."</p> + +<p>Charles looked up in his face, and smiled. "It is not my line," he said +at length. "I am on my way to Oxford. I must go. I came here to be of +use to you; I can be of none, so I must go. Would I <i>could</i> be of +service; but it is hopeless. Oh, it makes my heart ache!" And he went on +brushing his hat with his glove, as if on the point of rising, yet loth +to rise.</p> + +<p>Morley now struck in: he spoke all along like a gentleman, and a man of +real piety, but with a great ignorance of Protestants, or how they were +to be treated.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Reding," he said, "if before you go, I say one word. I +feel very much for the struggle which is going on in your mind; and I am +sure it is not for such as me to speak harshly or unkindly to you. The +struggle between conviction and motives of this world is often long; may +it have a happy termination in your case! Do not be offended if I +suggest to you that the dearest and closest ties, such as your connexion +with the Protestant Church involves, may be on the side of the world in +certain cases. It is a sort of martyrdom to have to break such; but they +who do so have a martyr's reward. And, then, at a University you have so +many inducements to fall in with the prevailing tone of thought; +prospects, success in life, good opinion of friends—all these things +are against you. They are likely to choke the good seed. Well, I could +have wished that you had been able to follow the dictates of conscience +at once; but the conflict<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">{114}</a></span> must continue its appointed time; we will +hope that all will end well."</p> + +<p>"I can't persuade these good people," thought Charles, as he closed the +street-door after him, "that I am not in a state of conviction, and +struggling against it; how absurd! Here I come to reclaim a deserter, +and I am seized even bodily, and against my will all but hurried into a +profession of faith. Do these things happen to people every day? or is +there some particular fate with me thus to be brought across religious +controversies which I am not up to? I a Roman Catholic! what a contrast +all this with quiet Hartley!" naming his home. As he continued to think +on what had passed he was still less satisfied with it or with himself. +He had gone to lecture, and he had been lectured; and he had let out his +secret state of mind: no, not let out, he had nothing to let out. He had +indeed implied that he was inquiring after religious truth, but every +Protestant inquires; he would not be a Protestant if he did not. Of +course he was seeking the truth; it was his duty to do so; he +recollected distinctly his tutor laying down, on one occasion, the duty +of private judgment. This was the very difference between Protestants +and Catholics; Catholics begin with faith, Protestants with inquiry; and +he ought to have said this to Willis. He was provoked he had not said +it; it would have simplified the question, and shown how far he was from +being unsettled. Unsettled! it was most extravagant. He wished this had +but struck him during the conversation, but it was a relief that it +struck him now; it reconciled him to his position.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">{115}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_XIV" id="one_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> first day of Michaelmas term is, to an undergraduate's furniture, +the brightest day of the year. Much as Charles regretted home, he +rejoiced to see old Oxford again. The porter had acknowledged him at the +gate, and the scout had smiled and bowed, as he ran up the worn +staircase and found a blazing fire to welcome him. The coals crackled +and split, and threw up a white flame in strong contrast with the +newly-blackened bars and hobs of the grate. A shining copper kettle +hissed and groaned under the internal torment of water at boiling point. +The chimney-glass had been cleaned, the carpet beaten, the curtains +fresh glazed. A tea-tray and tea commons were placed on the table; +besides a battel paper, two or three cards from tradesmen who desired +his patronage, and a note from a friend whose term had already +commenced. The porter came in with his luggage, and had just received +his too ample remuneration, when, through the closing door, in rushed +Sheffield in his travelling dress.</p> + +<p>"Well, old fellow, how are you?" he said, shaking both of Charles's +hands, or rather arms, with all his might; "here we are all again; I am +just come like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">{116}</a></span> you. Where have you been all this time? Come, tell us +all about yourself. Give me some tea, and let's have a good jolly chat." +Charles liked Sheffield, he liked Oxford, he was pleased to get back; +yet he had some remains of home-sickness on him, and was not quite in +cue for Sheffield's good-natured boisterousness. Willis's matter, too, +was still on his mind. "Have you heard the news?" said Sheffield; "I +have been long enough in college to pick it up. The kitchen-man was full +of it as I passed along. Jack's a particular friend of mine, a good +honest fellow, and has all the gossip of the place. I don't know what it +means, but Oxford has just now a very bad inside. The report is, that +some of the men have turned Romans; and they say that there are +strangers going about Oxford whom no one knows anything of. Jack, who is +a bit of a divine himself, says he heard the Principal say that, for +certain, there were Jesuits at the bottom of it; and I don't know what +he means, but he declares he saw with his own eyes the Pope walking down +High Street with the priest. I asked him how he knew it; he said he knew +the Pope by his slouching hat and his long beard; and the porter told +him it was the Pope. The Dons have met several times; and several tutors +are to be discommoned, and their names stuck up against the +buttery-door. Meanwhile the Marshal, with two bulldogs, is keeping guard +before the Catholic chapel; and, to complete it, that old drunken fellow +Topham is reported, out of malice, when called in to cut the Warden of +St. Mary's hair, to have made a clean white tonsure atop of him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">{117}</a></span></p> + +<p>"My dear Sheffield, how you run on!" said Reding. "Well, do you know, I +can tell you a piece of real news bearing on these reports, and not of +the pleasantest. Did you know Willis of St. George's?"</p> + +<p>"I think I once saw him at wine in your rooms; a modest, nice-looking +fellow, who never spoke a word."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I assure you, he has a tongue in his head when it suits him," +answered Charles: "yet I do think," he added, musingly, "he's very much +changed, and not for the better."</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the upshot?" asked Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"He has turned Catholic," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"What a fool!" cried Sheffield.</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Charles felt awkward: then he said, "I can't say I +was surprised; yet I should have been less surprised at White."</p> + +<p>"Oh, White won't turn Catholic," said Sheffield; "he hasn't it in him. +He's a coward."</p> + +<p>"Fools and cowards!" answered Charles: "thus you divide the world, +Sheffield? Poor Willis!" he added; "one must respect a man who acts +according to his conscience."</p> + +<p>"What can he know of conscience?" said Sheffield; "the idea of his +swallowing, of his own free-will, the heap of rubbish which every +Catholic has to believe! in cold blood tying a collar round his neck, +and politely putting the chain into the hands of a priest!... And then +the Confessional! 'Tis marvellous!" and he began to break the coals with +the poker. "It's very well," he continued, "if a man is born a Catholic; +I don't suppose they really believe what they are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">{118}</a></span> obliged to profess; +but how an Englishman, a gentleman, a man here at Oxford, with all his +advantages, can so eat dirt, scraping and picking up all the dead lies +of the dark ages—it's a miracle!"</p> + +<p>"Well, if there is anything that recommends Romanism to me," said +Charles, "it is what you so much dislike: I'd give twopence, if some +one, whom I could trust, would say to me, 'This is true; this is not +true.' We should be saved this eternal wrangling. Wouldn't you be glad +if St. Paul could come to life? I've often said to myself, 'Oh, that I +could ask St. Paul this or that!'"</p> + +<p>"But the Catholic Church isn't St. Paul quite, I guess," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not; but supposing you <i>did</i> think it had the inspiration of +an Apostle, as the Roman Catholics do, what a comfort it would be to +know, beyond all doubt, what to believe about God, and how to worship +and please Him! I mean, <i>you</i> said, 'I can't believe this or that;' now +you ought to have said, 'I can't believe the Pope has <i>power</i> to +<i>decide</i> this or that.' If he had, you ought to believe it, whatever it +is, and not to say, 'I can't believe.'"</p> + +<p>Sheffield looked hard at him: "We shall have you a papist some of these +fine days," said he.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," answered Charles; "you shouldn't say such things, even in +jest."</p> + +<p>"I don't jest; I am in earnest: you are plainly on the road."</p> + +<p>"Well, if I am, you have put me on it," said Reding, wishing to get away +from the subject as quick as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">{119}</a></span> could; "for you are ever talking +against shams, and laughing at King Charles and Laud, Bateman, White, +rood-lofts, and piscinas."</p> + +<p>"Now you are a Puseyite," said Sheffield in surprise.</p> + +<p>"You give me the name of a very good man, whom I hardly know by sight," +said Reding; "but I mean, that nobody knows what to believe, no one has +a definite faith, but the Catholics and the Puseyites; no one says, +'This is true, that is false; this comes from the Apostles, that does +not.'"</p> + +<p>"Then would you believe a Turk," asked Sheffield, "who came to you with +his 'One Allah, and Mahomet his Prophet'?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say a creed was everything," answered Reding, "or that a +religion could not be false which had a creed; but a religion can't be +true which has none."</p> + +<p>"Well, somehow that doesn't strike me," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"Now there was Vincent at the end of term, after you had gone down," +continued Charles; "you know I stayed up for Littlego; and he was very +civil, very civil indeed. I had a talk with him about Oxford parties, +and he pleased me very much at the time; but afterwards, the more I +thought of what he said, the less was I satisfied; that is, I had got +nothing definite from him. He did not say, 'This is true, that is +false;' but 'Be true, be true, be good, be good, don't go too far, keep +in the mean, have your eyes about you, eschew parties, follow our +divines, all of them;'—all which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">{120}</a></span> was but putting salt on the bird's +tail. I want some practical direction, not abstract truths."</p> + +<p>"Vincent is a humbug," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Pusey, on the other hand," continued Charles, "is said always to be +decisive. He says, 'This is Apostolic, that's in the Fathers; St. +Cyprian says this, St. Augustine denies that; this is safe, that's +wrong; I bid you, I forbid you.' I understand all this; but I don't +understand having duties put on me which are too much for me. I don't +understand, I dislike, having a will of my own, when I have not the +means to use it justly. In such a case, to tell me to act of myself, is +like Pharaoh setting the Israelites to make bricks without straw. +Setting me to inquire, to judge, to decide, forsooth! it's absurd; who +has taught me?"</p> + +<p>"But the Puseyites are not always so distinct," said Sheffield; "there's +Smith, he never speaks decidedly in difficult questions. I know a man +who was going to remain in Italy for some years, at a distance from any +English chapel,—he could not help it,—and who came to ask him if he +might communicate in the Catholic churches; he could not get an answer +from him; he would not say yes or no."</p> + +<p>"Then he won't have many followers, that's all," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"But he has more than Dr. Pusey," answered Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't understand it," said Charles; "he ought not; perhaps they +won't stay."</p> + +<p>"The truth is," said Sheffield, "I suspect he is more of a sceptic at +bottom."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">{121}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I honour the man who builds up," said Reding, "and I despise the +man who breaks down."</p> + +<p>"I am inclined to think you have a wrong notion of building up and +pulling down," answered Sheffield; "Coventry, in his 'Dissertations,' +makes it quite clear that Christianity is not a religion of doctrines."</p> + +<p>"Who is Coventry?"</p> + +<p>"Not know Coventry? he is one of the most original writers of the day; +he's an American, and, I believe, a congregationalist. Oh, I assure you, +you should read Coventry, although he is wrong on the question of +Church-government: you are not well <i>au courant</i> with the literature of +the day unless you do. He is no party man; he is a correspondent of the +first men of the day; he stopped with the Dean of Oxford when he was in +England, who has published an English edition of his 'Dissertations,' +with a Preface; and he and Lord Newlights were said to be the two most +witty men at the meeting of the British Association, two years ago."</p> + +<p>"I don't like Lord Newlights," said Charles, "he seems to me to have no +principle; that is, no fixed, definite religious principle. You don't +know where to find him. This is what my father thinks; I have often +heard him speak of him."</p> + +<p>"It's curious you should use the word <i>principle</i>," said Sheffield; "for +it is that which Coventry lays such stress on. He says that Christianity +has no creed; that this is the very point in which it is distinguished +from other religions; that you will search the New Testament in vain for +a creed; but that Scripture is full of <i>principles</i>. The view is very +ingenious, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">{122}</a></span> seemed to me true, when I read the book. According to +him, then, Christianity is not a religion of doctrines or mysteries; and +if you are looking for dogmatism in Scripture, it's a mistake."</p> + +<p>Charles was puzzled. "Certainly," he said, "at first sight there <i>is</i> no +creed in Scripture.—No creed in Scripture," he said slowly, as if +thinking aloud; "no creed in Scripture, <i>therefore</i> there is no creed. +But the Athanasian Creed," he added quickly, "is <i>that</i> in Scripture? It +either <i>is</i> in Scripture, or it is <i>not</i>. Let me see, it either is +there, or it is not.... What was it that Freeborn said last term?... +Tell me, Sheffield, would the Dean of Oxford say that the Creed was in +Scripture or not? perhaps you do not fairly explain Coventry's view; +what is your impression?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I will tell you frankly, my impression is, judging from his +Preface, that he would not scruple to say that it is not in Scripture, +but a scholastic addition."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," said Charles, "do you mean that he, a dignitary of the +Church, would say that the Athanasian Creed was a mistake, because it +represented Christianity as a revelation of doctrines or mysteries to be +received on faith?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I may be wrong," said Sheffield, "but so I understood him."</p> + +<p>"After all," said Charles sadly, "it's not so much more than that other +Dean, I forget his name, said at St. Mary's before the Vacation; it's +part of the same system. Oh, it was after you went down, or just at the +end of term: you don't go to sermons; I'm inclined not to go either. I +can't enter upon the Dean's argument;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">{123}</a></span> it's not worth while. Well," he +added, standing up and stretching himself, "I am tired with the day, yet +it has not been a fatiguing one either; but London is so bustling a +place."</p> + +<p>"You wish me to say good-night," said Sheffield. Charles did not deny +the charge; and the friends parted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">{124}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_XV" id="one_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">There</span> could not have been a lecture more unfavourable for Charles's +peace of mind than that in which he found himself this term placed; yet, +so blind are we to the future, he hailed it with great satisfaction, as +if it was to bring him an answer to the perplexities into which +Sheffield, Bateman, Freeborn, White, Willis, Mr. Morley, Dr. Brownside, +Mr. Vincent, and the general state of Oxford, had all, in one way or +other, conspired to throw him. He had shown such abilities in the former +part of the year, and was reading so diligently, that his tutors put him +prematurely into the lecture upon the Articles. It was a capital lecture +so far as this, that the tutor who gave it had got up his subject +completely. He knew the whole history of the Articles, how they grew +into their present shape, with what fortunes, what had been added, and +when, and what omitted. With this, of course, was joined an explanation +of the text, as deduced, as far as could be, from the historical account +thus given. Not only the British, but the foreign Reformers were +introduced; and nothing was wanting, at least in the intention of the +lecturer, for fortifying the young inquirer in the doctrine and +discipline of the Church of England.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">{125}</a></span></p> + +<p>It did not produce this effect on Reding. Whether he had expected too +much, or whatever was the cause, so it was that he did but feel more +vividly the sentiment of the old father in the comedy, after consulting +the lawyers, "<i>Incertior sum multo quam ante</i>." He saw that the +profession of faith contained in the Articles was but a patchwork of +bits of orthodoxy, Lutheranism, Calvinism, and Zuinglism; and this too +on no principle; that it was but the work of accident, if there be such +a thing as accident; that it had come down in the particular shape in +which the English Church now receives it, when it might have come down +in any other shape; that it was but a toss-up that Anglicans at this day +were not Calvinists, or Presbyterians, or Lutherans, equally well as +Episcopalians. This historical fact did but clench the difficulty, or +rather impossibility, of saying what the faith of the English Church +was. On almost every point of dispute the authoritative standard of +doctrine was vague or inconsistent, and there was an imposing weight of +external testimony in favour of opposite interpretations. He stopped +after lecture once or twice, and asked information of Mr. Upton, the +tutor, who was quite ready to give it; but nothing came of these +applications as regards the object which led him to make them.</p> + +<p>One difficulty which Charles experienced was to know whether, according +to the Articles, Divine truth was directly <i>given</i> us, or whether we had +to <i>seek</i> it for ourselves from Scripture. Several Articles led to this +question; and Mr. Upton, who was a High Churchman, answered him that the +saving doctrine neither was <i>given</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">{126}</a></span> nor was to be <i>sought</i>, but that it +was <i>proposed</i> by the Church, and <i>proved</i> by the individual. Charles +did not see this distinction between <i>seeking</i> and <i>proving</i>; for how +can we <i>prove</i> except by <i>seeking</i> (in Scripture) for <i>reasons</i>? He put +the question in another form, and asked if the Christian Religion +allowed of private judgment? This was no abstruse question, and a very +practical one. Had he asked a Wesleyan or Independent, he would have had +an unconditional answer in the affirmative; had he asked a Catholic, he +would have been told that we used our private judgment to find the +Church, and then in all matters of faith the Church superseded it; but +from this Oxford divine he could not get a distinct answer. First he was +told that doubtless we <i>must</i> use our judgment in the determination of +religious doctrine; but next he was told that it was sin (as it +undoubtedly is) to doubt the dogma of the Blessed Trinity. Yet, while he +was told that to doubt of that doctrine was a sin, he was told in +another conversation that our highest state here is one of doubt. What +did this mean? Surely certainty was simply necessary on <i>some</i> points, +as on the Object of worship; how could we worship what we doubted of? +The two acts were contrasted by the Evangelist; when the disciples saw +our Lord after the resurrection, "they worshipped Him, <i>but</i> some +doubted;" yet, in spite of this, he was told that there was "impatience" +in the very idea of desiring certainty.</p> + +<p>At another time he asked whether the anathemas of the Athanasian Creed +applied to all its clauses; for instance, whether it is necessary to +salvation to hold that there is "<i>unus æternus</i>" as the Latin has it; or +"such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">{127}</a></span> as the Father, ... such the Holy Ghost;" or that the Holy Ghost +is "by Himself God and Lord;" or that Christ is one "by the taking of +the manhood into God?" He could get no answer. Mr. Upton said that he +did not like extreme questions; that he could not and did not wish to +answer them; that the Creed was written against heresies, which no +longer existed, as a sort of <i>protest</i>. Reding asked whether this meant +that the Creed did not contain a distinctive view of its own, which +alone was safe, but was merely a negation of error. The clauses, he +observed, were positive, not negative. He could get no answer farther +than that the Creed taught that the doctrines of "the Trinity" and "the +Incarnation" were "necessary to salvation," it being apparently left +uncertain <i>what</i> those doctrines consisted in. One day he asked how +grievous sins were to be forgiven which were committed after baptism, +whether by faith, or not at all in this life. He was answered that the +Articles said nothing on the subject; that the Romish doctrine of pardon +and purgatory was false; and that it was well to avoid both curious +questions and subtle answers.</p> + +<p>Another question turned up at another lecture, viz. whether the Real +Presence meant a Presence of Christ in the elements, or in the soul, +i.e. in the faith of the recipient; in other words, whether the Presence +was really such, or a mere name. Mr. Upton pronounced it an open +question. Another day Charles asked whether Christ was present in fact, +or only in effect. Mr. Upton answered decidedly "in effect," which +seemed to Reding to mean no real presence at all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">{128}</a></span></p> + +<p>He had had some difficulty in receiving the doctrine of eternal +punishment; it had seemed to him the hardest doctrine of Revelation. +Then he said to himself, "But what is faith in its very notion but an +acceptance of the word of God when reason seems to oppose it? How is it +faith at all if there is nothing to try it?" This thought fully +satisfied him. The only question was, <i>Is</i> it part of the revealed word? +"I can believe it," he said, "if I know for certain that I <i>ought</i> to +believe it; but if I am not bound to believe it, I can't believe it." +Accordingly he put the question to Mr. Upton whether it was a doctrine +of the Church of England; that is, whether it came under the +subscription to the Articles. He could obtain no answer. Yet if he did +<i>not</i> believe this doctrine, he felt the whole fabric of his faith shake +under him. Close upon it came the doctrine of the Atonement.</p> + +<p>It is difficult to give instances of this kind, without producing the +impression on the reader's mind that Charles was forward and captious in +his inquiries. Certainly Mr. Upton had his own thoughts about him, but +he never thought his manner inconsistent with modesty and respect +towards himself.</p> + +<p>Charles naturally was full of the subject, and would have disclosed his +perplexities to Sheffield, had he not had a strong anticipation that +this would have been making matters worse. He thought Bateman, however, +might be of some service, and he disburdened himself to him in the +course of a country walk. What was he to do? for on his entrance he had +been told that when he took his degree he should have to sign the +Articles,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">{129}</a></span> not on faith as then, but on reason; yet they were +unintelligible; and how could he prove what he could not construe?</p> + +<p>Bateman seemed unwilling to talk on the subject; at last he said, "Oh, +my dear Reding, you really are in an excited state of mind; I don't like +to talk to you just now, for you will not see things in a +straightforward way and take them naturally. What a bug-bear you are +conjuring up! You are in an Article lecture in your second year; and +hardly have you commenced, but you begin to fancy what you will, or will +not think at the end of your time. Don't ask about the Articles now; +wait at least till you have seen the lecture through."</p> + +<p>"It really is not my way to be fussed or to fidget," said Charles, +"though I own I am not so quiet as I ought to be. I hear so many +different opinions in conversation; then I go to church, and one +preacher deals his blows at another; lastly, I betake myself to the +Articles, and really I cannot make out what they would teach me. For +instance, I cannot make out their doctrine about faith, about the +sacraments, about predestination, about the Church, about the +inspiration of Scripture. And their tone is so unlike the Prayer Book. +Upton has brought this out in his lectures most clearly."</p> + +<p>"Now, my most respectable friend," said Bateman, "do think for a moment +what men have signed the Articles. Perhaps King Charles himself; +certainly Laud, and all the great Bishops of his day, and of the next +generation. Think of the most orthodox Bull,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">{130}</a></span> the singularly learned +Pearson, the eloquent Taylor, Montague, Barrow, Thorndike, good dear +Bishop Horne, and Jones of Nayland. Can't you do what they did?"</p> + +<p>"The argument is a very strong one," said Charles; "I have felt it: you +mean, then, I must sign on faith."</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly, if necessary," said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"And how am I to sign as a Master, and when I am ordained?" asked +Charles.</p> + +<p>"That's what I mean by fidgeting," answered Bateman. "You are not +content with your day; you are reaching forward to live years hence."</p> + +<p>Charles laughed. "It isn't quite that," he said, "I was but testing your +advice; however, there's some truth in it." And he changed the subject.</p> + +<p>They talked awhile on indifferent matters; but on a pause Charles's +thoughts fell back again to the Articles. "Tell me, Bateman," he said, +"as a mere matter of curiosity, how <i>you</i> subscribed when you took your +degree."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had no difficulty at all," said Bateman; "the examples of Bull +and Pearson were enough for me."</p> + +<p>"Then you signed on faith."</p> + +<p>"Not exactly, but it was that thought which smoothed all difficulties."</p> + +<p>"Could you have signed without it?"</p> + +<p>"How can you ask me the question? of course."</p> + +<p>"Well, do tell me, then, what was your <i>ground</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had many grounds. I can't recollect in a moment what happened +some time ago."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then it was a matter of difficulty; indeed, you said so just now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">{131}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not at all: my only difficulty was, not about myself, but how to state +the matter to other people."</p> + +<p>"What! some one suspected you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; you are quite mistaken. I mean, for instance, the Article says +that we are justified by faith only; now the Protestant sense of this +statement is point blank opposite to our standard divines: the question +was, what I was to say when asked <i>my</i> sense of it."</p> + +<p>"I understand," said Charles; "now tell me how you solved the problem."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't deny that the Protestant sense is heretical," answered +Bateman; "and so is the Protestant sense of many other things in the +Articles; but then we need not take them in the Protestant sense."</p> + +<p>"Then in what sense?"</p> + +<p>"Why, first," said Bateman, "we need not take them in any sense at all. +Don't smile; listen. Great authorities, such as Laud or Bramhall, seem +to have considered that we only sign the Articles as articles of peace; +not as really holding them, but as not opposing them. Therefore, when we +sign the Articles, we only engage not to preach against them."</p> + +<p>Reding thought; then he said: "Tell me, Bateman, would not this view of +subscription to the Articles let the Unitarians into the Church?"</p> + +<p>Bateman allowed it would, but the Liturgy would still keep them out. +Charles then went on to suggest that <i>they</i> would take the Liturgy as a +Liturgy of peace too. Bateman began again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">{132}</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you want some tangible principle," he said, "for interpreting +Articles and Liturgy, I can give you one. You know," he continued, after +a short pause, "what it is <i>we</i> hold? Why, we give the Articles a +Catholic interpretation."</p> + +<p>Charles looked inquisitive.</p> + +<p>"It is plain," continued Bateman, "that no document can be a dead +letter; it must be the expression of some mind; and the question here +is, <i>whose</i> is what may be called the voice which speaks the Articles. +Now, if the Bishops, Heads of houses, and other dignitaries and +authorities were unanimous in their religious views, and one and all +said that the Articles meant this and not that, they, as the imponents, +would have a right to interpret them; and the Articles would mean what +those great men said they meant. But they do not agree together; some of +them are diametrically opposed to others. One clergyman denies +Apostolical Succession, another affirms it; one denies the Lutheran +justification, another maintains it; one denies the inspiration of +Scripture, a second holds Calvin to be a saint, a third considers the +doctrine of sacramental grace a superstition, a fourth takes part with +Nestorius against the Church, a fifth is a Sabellian. It is plain, then, +that the Articles have no sense at all, if the collective voice of +Bishops, Deans, Professors, and the like is to be taken. They cannot +supply what schoolmen call the <i>form</i> of the Articles. But perhaps the +writers themselves of the Articles will supply it? No; for, first, we +don't know for certain who the writers were; and next, the Articles have +gone through so many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">{133}</a></span> hands, and so many mendings, that some at least of +the original authors would not like to be responsible for them. Well, +let us go to the Convocations which ratified them: but they, too, were +of different sentiments; the seventeenth century did not hold the +doctrine of the sixteenth. Such is the state of the case. On the other +hand, <i>we</i> say that if the Anglican Church be a part of the one Church +Catholic, it must, from the necessity of the case, hold Catholic +doctrine. Therefore, the whole Catholic Creed, the acknowledged doctrine +of the Fathers, of St. Ignatius, St. Cyprian, St. Augustin, St. Ambrose, +is the <i>form</i>, is the one true sense and interpretation of the Articles. +They may be ambiguous in themselves; they may have been worded with +various intentions by the individuals concerned in their composition; +but these are accidents; the Church knows nothing of individuals; she +interprets herself."</p> + +<p>Reding took some time to think over this. "All this," he said, "proceeds +on the fundamental principle that the Church of England is an integral +part of that visible body of which St. Ignatius, St. Cyprian, and the +rest were Bishops; according to the words of Scripture, 'one body, one +faith.'"</p> + +<p>Bateman assented; Charles proceeded: "Then the Articles must not be +considered primarily as teaching; they have no one sense in themselves; +they are confessedly ambiguous: they are compiled from heterogeneous +sources; but all this does not matter, for all must be interpreted by +the teaching of the Catholic Church."</p> + +<p>Bateman agreed in the main, except that Reding had stated the case +rather too strongly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">{134}</a></span></p> + +<p>"But what if their letter <i>contradicts</i> a doctrine of the Fathers? am I +to force the letter?"</p> + +<p>"If such a case actually happened, the theory would not hold," answered +Bateman; "it would only be a gross quibble. You can in no case sign an +Article in a sense which its words will not bear. But, fortunately, or +rather providentially, this is not the case; we have merely to explain +ambiguities, and harmonize discrepancies. The Catholic interpretation +does no greater violence to the text than <i>any other</i> rule of +interpretation will be found to do."</p> + +<p>"Well, but I know nothing of the Fathers," said Charles; "others too are +in the same condition; how am I to learn practically to interpret the +Articles?"</p> + +<p>"By the Prayer Book; the Prayer Book is the voice of the Fathers."</p> + +<p>"How so?"</p> + +<p>"Because the Prayer Book is confessedly ancient, while the Articles are +modern."</p> + +<p>Charles kept silence again. "It is very plausible," he said; he thought +on. Presently he asked: "Is this a <i>received</i> view?"</p> + +<p>"<i>No</i> view is received," said Bateman; "the Articles themselves are +received, but there is no authoritative interpretation of them at all. +That's what I was saying just now; Bishops and Professors don't agree +together."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles, "is it a <i>tolerated</i> view?"</p> + +<p>"It has certainly been strongly opposed," answered Bateman; "but it has +never been condemned."</p> + +<p>"That is no answer," said Charles, who saw by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">{135}</a></span> Bateman's manner how the +truth lay. "Does any one Bishop hold it? did any one Bishop ever hold +it? has it ever been formally admitted as tenable by any one Bishop? is +it a view got up to meet existing difficulties, or has it an historical +existence?"</p> + +<p>Bateman could give but one answer to these questions, as they were +successively put to him.</p> + +<p>"I thought so," said Charles, when he had made his answer: "I know, of +course, whose view you are putting before me, though I never heard it +drawn out before. It is specious, certainly: I don't see but it might +have done, had it been tolerably sanctioned; but you have no sanction to +show me. It is, as it stands, a mere theory struck out by individuals. +Our Church <i>might</i> have adopted this mode of interpreting the Articles; +but from what you tell me, it certainly <i>has not</i> done so. I am where I +was."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">{136}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_XVI" id="one_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> thought came across Reding whether perhaps, after all, what is +called Evangelical Religion was not the true Christianity: its +professors, he knew, were active and influential, and in past times had +been much persecuted. Freeborn had surprised and offended him at +Bateman's breakfast-party before the Vacation; yet Freeborn had a +serious manner about him, and perhaps he had misunderstood him. The +thought, however, passed away as suddenly as it came, and perhaps would +not have occurred to him again, when an accident gave him some data for +determining the question.</p> + +<p>One afternoon he was lounging in the Parks, gazing with surprise on one +of those extraordinary lights for which the neighbourhood of Oxford is +at that season celebrated, and which, as the sun went down, was +colouring Marston, Elsfield, and their half-denuded groves with a pale +gold-and-brown hue, when he found himself overtaken and addressed by the +said Freeborn <i>in propriâ personâ</i>. Freeborn liked a <i>tête-à-tête</i> talk +much better than a dispute in a party; he felt himself at more advantage +in long leisurely speeches, and he was soon put out of breath when he +had to bolt-out or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">{137}</a></span> edge-in his words amid the ever-varying voices of a +breakfast-table. He thought the present might be a good opportunity of +doing good to a poor youth who did not know chalk from cheese, and who, +by his means, might be, as he would word it, "savingly converted." So +they got into conversation, talked of Willis's step, which Freeborn +called awful; and, before Charles knew where he was, he found himself +asking Freeborn what he meant by "faith."</p> + +<p>"Faith," said Freeborn, "is a Divine gift, and is the instrument of our +justification in God's sight. We are all by nature displeasing to Him, +till He justifies us freely for Christ's sake. Faith is like a hand, +appropriating personally the merits of Christ, who is our justification. +Now, what can we want more, or have more, than those merits? Faith, +then, is everything, and does everything for us. You see, then, how +important it is to have a right view about justification by faith only. +If we are sound on this capital point, everything else may take its +chance; we shall at once see the folly of contending about ceremonies, +about forms of Church-government, about, I will even say, sacraments or +creeds. External things will, in that case, either be neglected, or will +find a subordinate place."</p> + +<p>Reding observed that of course Freeborn did not mean to say that good +works were not necessary for obtaining God's favour; "but if they were, +how was justification by faith only?"</p> + +<p>Freeborn smiled, and said that he hoped Reding would have clearer views +in a little time. It was a very simple matter. Faith not only justified, +it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">{138}</a></span> regenerated also. It was the root of sanctification, as well as of +Divine acceptance. The same act, which was the means of bringing us into +God's favour, secured our being meet for it. Thus good works were +secured, because faith would not be true faith unless it were such as to +be certain of bringing forth good works in due time.</p> + +<p>Reding thought this view simple and clear, though it unpleasantly +reminded him of Dr. Brownside. Freeborn added that it was a doctrine +suited to the poor, that it put all the gospel into a nutshell, that it +dispensed with criticism, primitive ages, teachers—in short, with +authority in whatever form. It swept theology clean away. There was no +need to mention this last consequence to Charles; but he passed it by, +wishing to try the system on its own merits.</p> + +<p>"You speak of <i>true</i> faith," he said, "as producing good works: you say +that no faith justifies <i>but</i> true faith, and true faith produces good +works. In other words, I suppose, faith, which is <i>certain to be +fruitful</i>, or <i>fruitful</i> faith, justifies. This is very like saying that +faith and works are the joint means of justification."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no," cried Freeborn, "that is deplorable doctrine: it is quite +opposed to the gospel, it is anti-Christian. We are justified by faith +only, apart from good works."</p> + +<p>"I am in an Article lecture just now," said Charles, "and Upton told us +that we must make a distinction of <i>this</i> kind; for instance, the Duke +of Wellington is Chancellor of the University, but, though he is as much +Chancellor as Duke, still he sits in the House of Lords<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">{139}</a></span> as Duke, not as +Chancellor. Thus, although faith is as truly fruitful as it is faith, +yet it does not justify as being fruitful, but as being faith. Is this +what you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Freeborn; "that was Melancthon's doctrine; he +explained away a cardinal truth into a mere matter of words; he made +faith a mere symbol, but this is a departure from the pure gospel: faith +is the <i>instrument</i>, not a <i>symbol</i> of justification. It is, in truth, a +mere <i>apprehension</i>, and nothing else: the seizing and clinging which a +beggar might venture on when a king passed by. Faith is as poor as Job +in the ashes: it is like Job stripped of all pride and pomp and good +works: it is covered with filthy rags: it is without anything good: it +is, I repeat, a mere apprehension. Now you see what I mean."</p> + +<p>"I can't believe I understand you," said Charles: "you say that to have +faith is to seize Christ's merits; and that we have them, if we will but +seize them. But surely not every one who seizes them, gains them; +because dissolute men, who never have a dream of thorough repentance or +real hatred of sin, would gladly seize and appropriate them, if they +might do so. They would like to get to heaven for nothing. Faith, then, +must be some particular <i>kind</i> of apprehension; <i>what</i> kind? good works +cannot be mistaken, but an 'apprehension' may. What, then, is a true +apprehension? what <i>is</i> faith?"</p> + +<p>"What need, my dear friend," answered Freeborn, "of knowing +metaphysically what true faith is, if we have it and enjoy it? I do not +know what bread is, but I eat it; do I wait till a chemist analyzes it? +No,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">{140}</a></span> I eat it, and I feel the good effects afterwards. And so let us be +content to know, not what faith <i>is</i>, but what it <i>does</i>, and enjoy our +blessedness in possessing it."</p> + +<p>"I really don't want to introduce metaphysics," said Charles, "but I +will adopt your own image. Suppose I suspected the bread before me to +have arsenic in it, or merely to be unwholesome, would it be wonderful +if I tried to ascertain how the fact stood?"</p> + +<p>"Did you do so this morning at breakfast?" asked Freeborn.</p> + +<p>"I did not suspect my bread," answered Charles.</p> + +<p>"Then why suspect faith?" asked Freeborn.</p> + +<p>"Because it is, so to say, a new substance,"—Freeborn sighed,—"because +I am not used to it, nay, because I suspect it. I must say <i>suspect</i> it; +because, though I don't know much about the matter, I know perfectly +well, from what has taken place in my father's parish, what excesses +this doctrine may lead to, unless it is guarded. You say that it is a +doctrine for the poor; now they are very likely to mistake one thing for +another; so indeed is every one. If, then, we are told, that we have but +to apprehend Christ's merits, and need not trouble ourselves about +anything else; that justification has taken place, and works will +follow; that all is done, and that salvation is complete, while we do +but continue to have faith; I think we ought to be pretty sure that we +<i>have</i> faith, real faith, a real apprehension, before we shut up our +books and make holiday."</p> + +<p>Freeborn was secretly annoyed that he had got into an argument, or +pained, as he would express it, at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">{141}</a></span> pride of Charles's natural man, +or the blindness of his carnal reason; but there was no help for it, he +must give him an answer.</p> + +<p>"There are, I know, many kinds of faith," he said; "and of course you +must be on your guard against mistaking false faith for true faith. Many +persons, as you most truly say, make this mistake; and most important is +it, all important I should say, to go right. First, it is evident that +it is not mere belief in facts, in the being of a God, or in the +historical event that Christ has come and gone. Nor is it the submission +of the reason to mysteries; nor, again, is it that sort of trust which +is required for exercising the gift of miracles. Nor is it knowledge and +acceptance of the contents of the Bible. I say, it is not knowledge, it +is not assent of the intellect, it is not historical faith, it is not +dead faith: true justifying faith is none of these—it is seated in the +heart and affections." He paused, then added: "Now, I suppose, for +practical purposes, I have described pretty well what justifying faith +is."</p> + +<p>Charles hesitated: "By describing what it is <i>not</i>, you mean," said he; +"justifying faith, then, is, I suppose, living faith."</p> + +<p>"Not so fast," answered Freeborn.</p> + +<p>"Why," said Charles, "if it's not dead faith, it's living faith."</p> + +<p>"It's neither dead faith nor living," said Freeborn, "but faith, simple +faith, which justifies. Luther was displeased with Melancthon for saying +that living and operative faith justified. I have studied the question +very carefully."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">{142}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then do <i>you</i> tell me," said Charles, "what faith is, since I do not +explain it correctly. For instance, if you said (what you don't say), +that faith was submission of the reason to mysteries, or acceptance of +Scripture as an historical document, I should know perfectly well what +you meant; <i>that</i> is information: but when you say, that faith which +justifies is an <i>apprehension</i> of Christ, that it is <i>not</i> living faith, +or fruitful faith, or operative, but a something which in fact and +actually is distinct from these, I confess I feel perplexed."</p> + +<p>Freeborn wished to be out of the argument. "Oh," he said, "if you really +once experienced the power of faith—how it changes the heart, +enlightens the eyes, gives a new spiritual taste, a new sense to the +soul; if you once knew what it was to be blind, and then to see, you +would not ask for definitions. Strangers need verbal descriptions; the +heirs of the kingdom enjoy. Oh, if you could but be persuaded to put off +high imaginations; to strip yourself of your proud self, and to +<i>experience</i> in yourself the wonderful change, you would live in praise +and thanksgiving, instead of argument and criticism."</p> + +<p>Charles was touched by his warmth; "But," he said, "we ought to act by +reason; and I don't see that I have more, or so much, reason to listen +to you, as to listen to the Roman Catholic, who tells me I cannot +possibly have that certainty of faith before believing, which on +believing will be divinely given me."</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Freeborn, with a grave face, "you would not compare the +spiritual Christian, such as Luther, holding his cardinal doctrine about +justification,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">{143}</a></span> to any such formal, legal, superstitious devotee as +Popery can make, with its carnal rites and quack remedies, which never +really cleanse the soul or reconcile it to God?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like you to talk so," said Reding; "I know very little about +the real nature of Popery; but when I was a boy I was once, by chance, +in a Roman Catholic chapel; and I really never saw such devotion in my +life—the people all on their knees, and most earnestly attentive to +what was going on. I did not understand what that was; but I am sure, +had you been there, you never would have called their religion, be it +right or wrong, an outward form or carnal ordinance."</p> + +<p>Freeborn said it deeply pained him to hear such sentiments, and to find +that Charles was so tainted with the errors of the day; and he began, +not with much tact, to talk of the Papal Antichrist, and would have got +off to prophecy, had Charles said a word to afford fuel for discussion. +As he kept silence, Freeborn's zeal burnt out, and there was a break in +the conversation.</p> + +<p>After a time, Reding ventured to begin again.</p> + +<p>"If I understand you," he said, "faith carries its own evidence with it. +Just as I eat my bread at breakfast without hesitation about its +wholesomeness, so, when I have really faith, I know it beyond mistake, +and need not look out for tests of it?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely so," said Freeborn; "you begin to see what I mean; you grow. +The soul is enlightened to see that it has real faith."</p> + +<p>"But how," asked Charles, "are we to rescue those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">{144}</a></span> from their dangerous +mistake, who think they have faith, while they have not? Is there no way +in which they can find out that they are under a delusion?"</p> + +<p>"It is not wonderful," said Freeborn, "though there be no way. There are +many self-deceivers in the world. Some men are self-righteous, trust in +their works, and think they are safe when they are in a state of +perdition; no formal rules <i>can</i> be given by which their reason might +for certain detect their mistake. And so of false faith."</p> + +<p>"Well, it does seem to me wonderful," said Charles, "that there is no +natural and obvious warning provided against this delusion; wonderful +that false faith should be so exactly like true faith that there is +nothing to determine their differences from each other. Effects imply +causes: if one apprehension of Christ leads to good works, and another +does not, there must be something <i>in</i> the one which is not <i>in</i> the +other. <i>What</i> is a false apprehension of Christ wanting in, which a true +apprehension has? The word <i>apprehension</i> is so vague; it conveys no +definite idea to me, yet justification depends on it. Is a false +apprehension, for instance, wanting in repentance and amendment?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Freeborn; "true faith is complete without conversion; +conversion follows; but faith is the root."</p> + +<p>"Is it the love of God which distinguishes true faith from false?"</p> + +<p>"Love?" answered Freeborn; "you should read what Luther says in his +celebrated comment on the Galatians. He calls such a doctrine +'<i>pestilens figmentum</i>,'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">{145}</a></span> '<i>diaboli portentum</i>;' and cries out against +the Papists, '<i>Pereant sophistæ cum suâ maledictâ glossâ!</i>'"</p> + +<p>"Then it differs from false faith in nothing."</p> + +<p>"Not so," said Freeborn; "it differs from it in its fruits: 'By their +fruits ye shall know them.'"</p> + +<p>"This is coming round to the same point again," said Charles; "fruits +come after; but a man, it seems, is to take comfort in his justification +<i>before</i> fruits come, before he knows that his faith will produce them."</p> + +<p>"Good works are the <i>necessary</i> fruits of faith," said Freeborn; "so +says the Article."</p> + +<p>Charles made no answer, but said to himself, "My good friend here +certainly has not the clearest of heads;" then aloud, "Well, I despair +of getting at the bottom of the subject."</p> + +<p>"Of course," answered Freeborn, with an air of superiority, though in a +mild tone, "it is a very simple principle, '<i>Fides justificat ante et +sine charitate</i>;' but it requires a Divine light to embrace it."</p> + +<p>They walked awhile in silence; then, as the day was now closing in, they +turned homewards, and parted company when they came to the Clarendon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">{146}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_XVII" id="one_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Freeborn</span> was not the person to let go a young man like Charles without +another effort to gain him; and in a few days he invited him to take tea +at his lodgings. Charles went at the appointed time, through the wet and +cold of a dreary November evening, and found five or six men already +assembled. He had got into another world; faces, manners, speeches, all +were strange, and savoured neither of Eton, which was his own school, +nor of Oxford itself. He was introduced, and found the awkwardness of a +new acquaintance little relieved by the conversation which went on. It +was a dropping fire of serious remarks; with pauses, relieved only by +occasional "ahems," the sipping of tea, the sound of spoons falling +against the saucers, and the blind shifting of chairs as the flurried +servant-maid of the lodgings suddenly came upon them from behind, with +the kettle for the teapot, or toast for the table. There was no nature +or elasticity in the party, but a great intention to be profitable.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen the last <i>Spiritual Journal</i>?" asked No. 1 of No. 2 in a +low voice.</p> + +<p>No. 2 had just read it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">{147}</a></span></p> + +<p>"A very remarkable article that," said No. 1, "upon the deathbed of the +Pope."</p> + +<p>"No one is beyond hope," answered No. 2.</p> + +<p>"I have heard of it, but not seen it," said No. 3.</p> + +<p>A pause.</p> + +<p>"What is it about?" asked Reding.</p> + +<p>"The late Pope Sixtus the Sixteenth," said No. 3; "he seems to have died +a believer."</p> + +<p>A sensation. Charles looked as if he wished to know more.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Journal</i> gives it on excellent authority," said No. 2; "Mr. +O'Niggins, the agent for the Roman Priest Conversion Branch Tract +Society, was in Rome during his last illness. He solicited an audience +with the Pope, which was granted to him. He at once began to address him +on the necessity of a change of heart, belief in the one Hope of +sinners, and abandonment of all creature mediators. He announced to him +the glad tidings, and assured him there was pardon for all. He warned +him against the figment of baptismal regeneration; and then, proceeding +to apply the word, he urged him, though in the eleventh hour, to receive +the Bible, the whole Bible, and nothing but the Bible. The Pope listened +with marked attention, and displayed considerable emotion. When it was +ended, he answered Mr. O'Niggins that it was his fervent hope that they +two would not die without finding themselves in one communion, or +something of the sort. He declared moreover, what was astonishing, that +he put his sole trust in Christ, 'the source of all merit,' as he +expressed it—a remarkable phrase."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">{148}</a></span></p> + +<p>"In what language was the conversation carried on?" asked Reding.</p> + +<p>"It is not stated," answered No. 2; "but I am pretty sure Mr. O'Niggins +is a good French scholar."</p> + +<p>"It does not seem to me," said Charles, "that the Pope's admissions are +greater than those made continually by certain members of our own +Church, who are nevertheless accused of Popery."</p> + +<p>"But they are extorted from such persons," said Freeborn, "while the +Pope's were voluntary."</p> + +<p>"The one party go back into darkness," said No. 3; "the Pope was coming +forward into light."</p> + +<p>"One ought to interpret everything for the best in a real Papist," said +Freeborn, "and everything for the worst in a Puseyite. That is both +charity and common sense."</p> + +<p>"This was not all," continued No. 2; "he called together the Cardinals, +protested that he earnestly desired God's glory, said that inward +religion was all in all, and forms were nothing without a contrite +heart, and that he trusted soon to be in Paradise—which, you know, was +a denial of the doctrine of Purgatory."</p> + +<p>"A brand from the burning, I do hope," said No. 3.</p> + +<p>"It has frequently been observed," said No. 4, "nay it has struck me +myself, that the way to convert Romanists is first to convert the Pope."</p> + +<p>"It is a sure way, at least," said Charles timidly, afraid he was saying +too much; but his irony was not discovered.</p> + +<p>"Man cannot do it," said Freeborn; "it's the power of faith. Faith can +be vouchsafed even to the greatest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">{149}</a></span> sinners. You see now, perhaps," he +said, turning to Charles, "better than you did, what I meant by faith +the other day. This poor old man could have no merit; he had passed a +long life in opposing the Cross. Do your difficulties continue?"</p> + +<p>Charles had thought over their former conversation very carefully +several times, and he answered, "Why, I don't think they do to the same +extent."</p> + +<p>Freeborn looked pleased.</p> + +<p>"I mean," he said, "that the idea hangs together better than I thought +it did at first."</p> + +<p>Freeborn looked puzzled.</p> + +<p>Charles, slightly colouring, was obliged to proceed, amid the profound +silence of the whole party. "You said, you know, that justifying faith +was without love or any other grace besides itself, and that no one +could at all tell what it was, except afterwards, from its fruits; that +there was no test by which a person could examine himself, whether or +not he was deceiving himself when he thought he had faith, so that good +and bad might equally be taking to themselves the promises and the +privileges peculiar to the gospel. I thought this a hard doctrine +certainly at first; but, then, afterwards it struck me that faith is +perhaps a result of a previous state of mind, a blessed result of a +blessed state, and therefore may be considered the reward of previous +obedience; whereas sham faith, or what merely looks like faith, is a +judicial punishment."</p> + +<p>In proportion as the drift of the former part of this speech was +uncertain, so was the conclusion very distinct. There was no mistake, +and an audible emotion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">{150}</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is no such thing as previous merit," said No. 1; "all is of +grace."</p> + +<p>"Not merit, I know," said Charles, "but"——</p> + +<p>"We must not bring in the doctrine of <i>de condigno</i> or <i>de congruo</i>," +said No. 2.</p> + +<p>"But surely," said Charles, "it is a cruel thing to say to the unlearned +and the multitude, 'Believe, and you are at once saved; do not wait for +fruits, rejoice at once,' and neither to accompany this announcement by +any clear description of what faith is, nor to secure them by previous +religious training against self-deception!"</p> + +<p>"That is the very gloriousness of the doctrine," said Freeborn, "that it +is preached to the worst of mankind. It says, 'Come as you are; don't +attempt to make yourselves better. Believe that salvation is yours, and +it is yours: good works follow after.'"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," said Charles, continuing his argument, "when it is +said that justification follows upon baptism, we have an intelligible +something pointed out, which every one can ascertain. Baptism is an +external unequivocal token; whereas that a man has this secret feeling +called faith, no one but himself can be a witness, and he is not an +unbiassed one."</p> + +<p>Reding had at length succeeded in throwing that dull tea-table into a +state of great excitement. "My dear friend," said Freeborn, "I had hoped +better things; in a little while, I hope, you will see things +differently. Baptism is an outward rite; what is there, can there be, +spiritual, holy, or heavenly in baptism?"</p> + +<p>"But you tell me faith too is not spiritual," said Charles.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">{151}</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> tell you!" cried Freeborn, "when?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles, somewhat puzzled, "at least you do not think it +holy."</p> + +<p>Freeborn was puzzled in his turn.</p> + +<p>"If it is holy," continued Charles, "it has something good in it; it has +some worth; it is not filthy rags. All the good comes afterwards, you +said. You said that its fruits were holy, but that it was nothing at all +itself."</p> + +<p>There was a momentary silence, and some agitation of thought.</p> + +<p>"Oh, faith is certainly a holy feeling," said No. 1.</p> + +<p>"No, it is spiritual, but not holy," said No. 2; "it is a mere act, the +apprehension of Christ's merits."</p> + +<p>"It is seated in the affections," said No. 3; "faith is a feeling of the +heart; it is trust, it is a belief that Christ is <i>my</i> Saviour; all this +is distinct from holiness. Holiness introduces self-righteousness. Faith +is peace and joy, but it is not holiness. Holiness comes after."</p> + +<p>"Nothing can cause holiness but what is holy; this is a sort of axiom," +said Charles; "if the fruits are holy, faith, which is the root, is +holy."</p> + +<p>"You might as well say that the root of a rose is red, and of a lily +white," said No. 3.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Reding," said Freeborn, "it is, as my friend says, an +<i>apprehension</i>. An apprehension is a seizing; there is no more holiness +in justifying faith, than in the hand's seizing a substance which comes +in its way. This is Luther's great doctrine in his 'Commentary' on the +Galatians. It is nothing in itself—it is a mere instrument; this is +what he teaches, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">{152}</a></span> he so vehemently resists the notion of justifying +faith being accompanied by love."</p> + +<p>"I cannot assent to that doctrine," said No. 1; "it may be true in a +certain sense, but it throws stumbling-blocks in the way of seekers. +Luther could not have meant what you say, I am convinced. Justifying +faith is always accompanied by love."</p> + +<p>"That is what I thought," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"That is the Romish doctrine all over," said No. 2; "it is the doctrine +of Bull and Taylor."</p> + +<p>"Luther calls it, '<i>venenum infernale</i>,'" said Freeborn.</p> + +<p>"It is just what the Puseyites preach at present," said No. 3.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," said No. 1, "it is the doctrine of Melancthon. Look +here," he continued, taking his pocketbook out of his pocket, "I have +got his words down as Shuffleton quoted them in the Divinity-school the +other day: '<i>Fides significat fiduciam; in fiducidâ</i> inest <i>dilectio; +ergo etiam dilectione sumus justi</i>.'"</p> + +<p>Three of the party cried "Impossible!" The paper was handed round in +solemn silence.</p> + +<p>"Calvin said the same," said No. 1 triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"I think," said No. 4, in a slow, smooth, sustained voice, which +contrasted with the animation which had suddenly inspired the +conversation, "that the con-tro-ver-sy, ahem, may be easily arranged. It +is a question of words between Luther and Melancthon. Luther says, ahem, +'faith is <i>without</i> love,' meaning, 'faith without love justifies.' +Melancthon, on the other hand, says, ahem, 'faith is <i>with</i> love,' +meaning, 'faith justifies with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">{153}</a></span> love.' Now both are true: for, ahem, +faith-without-love <i>justifies</i>, yet faith justifies <i>not-without-love</i>."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, while both parties digested this explanation.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," he added, "it is the Romish doctrine that +faith-with-love justifies."</p> + +<p>Freeborn expressed his dissent; he thought this the doctrine of +Melancthon which Luther condemned.</p> + +<p>"You mean," said Charles, "that justification is given to faith <i>with</i> +love, not to faith <i>and</i> love."</p> + +<p>"You have expressed my meaning," said No. 4.</p> + +<p>"And what is considered the difference between <i>with</i> and <i>and</i>?" asked +Charles.</p> + +<p>No. 4 replied without hesitation, "Faith is the <i>instrument</i>, love the +<i>sine quâ non</i>."</p> + +<p>Nos. 2 and 3 interposed with a protest; they thought it "legal" to +introduce the phrase <i>sine quâ non</i>; it was introducing <i>conditions</i>. +Justification was unconditional.</p> + +<p>"But is not faith a condition?" asked Charles.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Freeborn; "'condition' is a legal word. How can +salvation be free and full, if it is conditional?"</p> + +<p>"There are no conditions," said No. 3; "all must come from the heart. We +believe with the heart, we love from the heart, we obey with the heart; +not because we are obliged, but because we have a new nature."</p> + +<p>"Is there no obligation to obey?" said Charles, surprised.</p> + +<p>"No obligation to the regenerate," answered No. 3; "they are above +obligation; they are in a new state."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">{154}</a></span></p> + +<p>"But surely Christians are under a law," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said No. 2; "the law is done away in Christ."</p> + +<p>"Take care," said No. 1; "that borders on Antinomianism."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Freeborn; "an Antinomian actually holds that he may +break the law: a spiritual believer only holds that he is not bound to +keep it."</p> + +<p>Now they got into a fresh discussion among themselves; and, as it seemed +as interminable as it was uninteresting, Reding took an opportunity to +wish his host a good night, and to slip away. He never had much leaning +towards the evangelical doctrine; and Freeborn and his friends, who knew +what they were holding a great deal better than the run of their party, +satisfied him that he had not much to gain by inquiring into that +doctrine farther. So they will vanish in consequence from our pages.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">{155}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="one_XVIII" id="one_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">When</span> Charles got to his room he saw a letter from home lying on his +table; and, to his alarm, it had a deep black edge. He tore it open. +Alas, it announced the sudden death of his dear father! He had been +ailing some weeks with the gout, which at length had attacked his +stomach, and carried him off in a few hours.</p> + +<p>O my poor dear Charles, I sympathize with you keenly all that long +night, and in that indescribable waking in the morning, and that dreary +day of travel which followed it! By the afternoon you were at home. O +piercing change! it was but six or seven weeks before that you had +passed the same objects the reverse way, with what different feelings, +and oh, in what company, as you made for the railway omnibus! It was a +grief not to be put into words; and to meet mother, sisters—and the +Dead!...</p> + +<p>The funeral is over by some days; Charles is to remain at home the +remainder of the term, and does not return to Oxford till towards the +end of January. The signs of grief have been put away; the house looks +cheerful as before; the fire as bright, the mirrors<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">{156}</a></span> as clear, the +furniture as orderly; the pictures are the same, and the ornaments on +the mantelpiece stand as they have stood, and the French clock tells the +hour, as it has told it, for years past. The inmates of the parsonage +wear, it is most true, the signs of a heavy bereavement; but they +converse as usual, and on ordinary subjects; they pursue the same +employments, they work, they read, they walk in the garden, they dine. +There is no change except in the inward consciousness of an overwhelming +loss. <i>He</i> is not there, not merely on this day or that, for so it well +might be; he is not merely away, but, as they know well, he is gone and +will not return. That he is absent now is but a token and a memorial to +their minds that he will be absent always. But especially at dinner; +Charles had to take a place which he had sometimes filled, but then as +the deputy, and in the presence of him whom now he succeeded. His +father, being not much more than a middle-aged man, had been accustomed +to carve himself. And when at the meal of the day Charles looked up, he +had to encounter the troubled look of one, who, from her place at table, +had before her eyes a still more vivid memento of their common +loss;—<i>aliquid desideraverunt oculi</i>.</p> + +<p>Mr. Reding had left his family well provided for; and this, though a +real alleviation of their loss in the event, perhaps augmented the pain +of it at the moment. He had ever been a kind indulgent father. He was a +most respectable clergyman of the old school; pious in his sentiments, a +gentleman in his feelings, exemplary in his social relations. He was no +reader, and never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">{157}</a></span> had been in the way to gain theological knowledge; he +sincerely believed all that was in the Prayer Book, but his sermons were +very rarely doctrinal. They were sensible, manly discourses on the moral +duties. He administered Holy Communion at the three great festivals, saw +his Bishop once or twice a year, was on good terms with the country +gentlemen in his neighbourhood, was charitable to the poor, hospitable +in his housekeeping, and was a staunch though not a violent supporter of +the Tory interest in his county. He was incapable of anything harsh, or +petty, or low, or uncourteous; and died esteemed by the great houses +about him, and lamented by his parishioners.</p> + +<p>It was the first great grief poor Charles had ever had, and he felt it +to be real. How did the small anxieties which had of late teased him, +vanish before this tangible calamity! He then understood the difference +between what was real and what was not. All the doubts, inquiries, +surmises, views, which had of late haunted him on theological subjects, +seemed like so many shams, which flitted before him in sun-bright hours, +but had no root in his inward nature, and fell from him, like the +helpless December leaves, in the hour of his affliction. He felt now +<i>where</i> his heart and his life lay. His birth, his parentage, his +education, his home, were great realities; to these his being was +united; out of these he grew. He felt he must be what Providence had +made him. What is called the pursuit of truth, seemed an idle dream. He +had great tangible duties to his father's memory, to his mother and +sisters, to his position; he felt sick of all theories,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">{158}</a></span> as if they had +taken him in; and he secretly resolved never more to have anything to do +with them. Let the world go on as it might, happen what would to others, +his own place and his own path were clear. He would go back to Oxford, +attend steadily to his books, put aside all distractions, avoid +bye-paths, and do his best to acquit himself well in the schools. The +Church of England as it was, its Articles, bishops, preachers, +professors, had sufficed for much better persons than he was; they were +good enough for him. He could not do better than imitate the life and +death of his beloved father; quiet years in the country at a distance +from all excitements, a round of pious, useful works among the poor, the +care of a village school, and at length the death of the righteous.</p> + +<p>At the moment, and for some time to come, he had special duties towards +his mother; he wished, as far as might be, to supply to her the place of +him she had lost. She had great trials before her still; if it was a +grief to himself to leave Hartley, what would it be to her? Not many +months would pass before she would have to quit a place ever dear, and +now sacred in her thoughts; there was in store for her the anguish of +dismantling the home of many years, and the toil and whirl of packing; a +wearied head and an aching heart at a time when she would have most need +of self-possession and energy.</p> + +<p>Such were the thoughts which came upon him again and again in those +sorrowful weeks. A leaf had been turned over in his life; he could not +be what he had been. People come to man's estate at very different<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">{159}</a></span> +ages. Youngest sons in a family, like monks in a convent, may remain +children till they have reached middle age; but the elder, should their +father die prematurely, are suddenly ripened into manhood, when they are +almost boys. Charles had left Oxford a clever unformed youth; he +returned a man.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">{160}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="Part_II" id="Part_II"></a>Part II.</h2> + + +<h2><a name="two_I" id="two_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">About</span> three miles from Oxford a thickly-wooded village lies on the side +of a steep, long hill or chine, looking over the Berkshire woods, and +commanding a view of the many-turreted city itself. Over its broad +summit once stretched a chestnut forest; and now it is covered with the +roots of trees, or furze, or soft turf. The red sand which lies +underneath contrasts with the green, and adds to its brilliancy; it +drinks in, too, the rain greedily, so that the wide common is nearly +always fit for walking; and the air, unlike the heavy atmosphere of the +University beneath it, is fresh and bracing. The gorse was still in +bloom, in the latter end of the month of June, when Reding and Sheffield +took up their abode in a small cottage at the upper end of this +village—so hid with trees and girt in with meadows that for the +stranger it was hard to find—there to pass their third and last Long +Vacation before going into the schools.</p> + +<p>A year and a half had passed since Charles's great affliction, and the +time had not been unprofitably spent either by himself or his friend. +Both had read very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">{161}</a></span> regularly, and Sheffield had gained the Latin verse +into the bargain. Charles had put all religious perplexities aside; that +is, he knew of course many more persons of all parties than he did +before, and became better acquainted with their tenets and their +characters, but he did not dwell upon anything which he met with, nor +attempt to determine the merits or solve the difficulties of this or +that question. He took things as they came; and, while he gave his mind +to his books, he thankfully availed himself of the religious privileges +which the College system afforded him. Nearly a year still remained +before his examination; and, as Mrs. Reding had not as yet fully +arranged her plans, but was still, with her daughters, passing from +friend to friend, he had listened to Sheffield's proposal to take a +tutor for the Vacation, and to find a site for their studies in the +neighbourhood of Oxford. There was every prospect of their both +obtaining the highest honours which the schools award: they both were +good scholars, and clever men; they had read regularly, and had had the +advantage of able lectures.</p> + +<p>The side of the hill forms a large, sweeping hollow or theatre just on +one side of the village of Horsley. The two extreme points may be half a +mile across; but the distance is increased to one who follows the path +which winds through the furze and fern along the ridge. Their tutor had +been unable to find lodgings in the village; and, while the two young +men lived on one extremity of the sweep we have been describing, Mr. +Carlton, who was not above three years <ins class="correction" title="text reads 'olderthan'">older than</ins> they, had +planted himself at a farmhouse upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">{162}</a></span> other. Besides, the farmhouse +suited him better, as being nearer to a hamlet which he was serving +during the Vacation.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you like Carlton as well as I do," said Reding to +Sheffield, as they lay on the green sward with some lighter classic in +their hands, waiting for dinner, and watching their friend as he +approached them from his lodgings. "He is to me so taking a man; so +equable, so gentle, so considerate—he brings people together, and fills +them with confidence in himself and friendly feeling towards each other, +more than any person I know."</p> + +<p>"You are wrong," said Sheffield, "if you think I don't value him +extremely, and love him too; it's impossible not to love him. But he's +not the person quite to get influence over me."</p> + +<p>"He's too much of an Anglican for you," said Reding.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Sheffield, "except indirectly. My quarrel with him +is, that he has many original thoughts, and holds many profound truths +in detail, but is quite unable to see how they lie to each other, and +equally unable to draw consequences. He never sees a truth until he +touches it; he is ever groping and feeling, and, as in hide-and-seek, +continually burns without discovering. I know there are ten thousand +persons who cannot see an inch before their nose, and who can +comfortably digest contradictions; but Carlton is really a clever man; +he is no common thinker; this makes it so provoking. When I write an +essay for him—I know I write obscurely, and often do not bring out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">{163}</a></span> the +sequence of my ideas in due order, but, so it is—he is sure to cut out +the very thought or statement on which I especially pride myself, on +which the whole argument rests, which binds every part together; and he +coolly tells me that it is extravagant or far-fetched—not seeing that +by leaving it out he has made nonsense of the rest. He is a man to rob +an arch of its keystone, and then quietly to build his house upon it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, your old failing again," said Reding; "a craving after views. Now, +what I like in Carlton, is that repose of his;—always saying enough, +never too much; never boring you, never taxing you; always practical, +never in the clouds. Save me from a viewy man; I could not live with him +for a week, present company always excepted."</p> + +<p>"Now, considering how hard I have read, and how little I have talked +this year past, that is hard on me," said Sheffield. "Did not I go to be +one of old Thruston's sixteen pupils, last Long? He gave us capital +feeds, smoked with us, and coached us in Ethics and Agamemnon. He knows +his books by heart, can repeat his plays backwards, and weighs out his +Aristotle by grains and pennyweights; but, for generalizations, ideas, +poetry, oh, it was desolation—it was a darkness which could be felt!"</p> + +<p>"And you stayed there just six weeks out of four months, Sheffield," +answered Reding.</p> + +<p>Carlton had now joined them, and, after introductory greetings on both +sides, he too threw himself upon the turf. Sheffield said: "Reding and I +were disputing just now whether Nicias was a party man."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">{164}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course you first defined your terms," said Carlton.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sheffield, "I mean by a party man, one who not only belongs +to a party, but who has the <i>animus</i> of party. Nicias did not make a +party, he found one made. He found himself at the head of it; he was no +more a party man than a prince who was born the head of his state."</p> + +<p>"I should agree with you," said Carlton; "but still I should like to +know what a party is, and what a party man."</p> + +<p>"A party," said Sheffield, "is merely an extra-constitutional or +extra-legal body."</p> + +<p>"Party action," said Charles, "is the exertion of influence instead of +law."</p> + +<p>"But supposing, Reding, there is no law existing in the quarter where +influence exerts itself?" asked Carlton.</p> + +<p>Charles had to explain: "Certainly," he said, "the State did not +legislate for all possible contingencies."</p> + +<p>"For instance," continued Carlton, "a prime minister, I have understood, +is not acknowledged in the Constitution; he exerts influence beyond the +law, but not, in consequence, against any existing law; and it would be +absurd to talk of him as a party man."</p> + +<p>"Parliamentary parties, too, are recognised among us," said Sheffield, +"though extra-constitutional. We call them parties; but who would call +the Duke of Devonshire or Lord John Russell, in a bad sense, a party +man?"</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," said Carlton, "that the formation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">{165}</a></span> of a party is +merely a recurrence to the original mode of forming into society. You +recollect Deioces; he formed a party. He gained influence; he laid the +foundation of social order."</p> + +<p>"Law certainly begins in influence," said Reding, "for it presupposes a +lawgiver; afterwards it supersedes influence; from that time the +exertion of influence is a sign of party."</p> + +<p>"Too broadly said, as you yourself just now allowed," said Carlton: "you +should say that law <i>begins</i> to supersede influence, and that <i>in +proportion</i> as it supersedes it, does the exertion of influence involve +party action. For instance, has not the Crown an immense personal +influence? we talk of the Court <i>party</i>; yet it does not interfere with +law, it is intended to conciliate the people to the law."</p> + +<p>"But it is recognized by law and constitution," said Charles, "as was +the Dictatorship."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, take the influence of the clergy," answered Carlton; "we +make much of that influence as a principle supplemental to the law, and +as a support to the law, yet not created or defined by the law. The law +does not recognize what some one calls truly a 'resident gentleman' in +every parish. Influence, then, instead of law is not necessarily the +action of party."</p> + +<p>"So again, national character is an influence distinct from the law," +said Sheffield, "according to the line, '<i>Quid leges sine moribus</i>?'"</p> + +<p>"Law," said Carlton, "is but gradually formed and extended. Well, then, +so far as there is no law, there is the reign of influence; there is +party without of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">{166}</a></span> necessity <i>party</i> action. This is the justification of +Whigs and Tories at the present day; to supply, as Aristotle says on +another subject, the defects of the law. Charles I. exerted a regal, +Walpole a ministerial influence; but influence, not law, was the +operating principle in both cases. The object or the means might be +wrong, but the process could not be called party action."</p> + +<p>"You would justify, then," said Charles, "the associations or +confraternities which existed, for instance, in Athens; not, that is, if +they 'took the law into their own hands,' as the phrase goes, but if +there was no law to take, or if there was no constituted authority to +take it of right. It was a recurrence to the precedent of Deioces."</p> + +<p>"Manzoni gives a striking instance of this in the beginning of his +<i>Promessi Sposi</i>," said Sheffield, "when he describes that protection, +which law ought to give to the weak, as being in the sixteenth century +sought and found almost exclusively in factions or companies. I don't +recollect particulars, but he describes the clergy as busy in extending +their immunities, the nobility their privileges, the army their +exemptions, the trades and artisans their guilds. Even the lawyers +formed a union, and medical men a corporation."</p> + +<p>"Thus constitutions are gradually moulded and perfected," said Carlton, +"by extra-constitutional bodies, either coming under the protection of +law, or else being superseded by the law's providing for their objects. +In the middle ages the Church was a vast extra-constitutional body. The +German and Anglo-Norman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">{167}</a></span> sovereigns sought to bring its operation +<i>under</i> the law; modern parliaments have superseded its operation <i>by +law</i>. Then the State wished to gain the right of investitures; now the +State marries, registers, manages the poor, exercises ecclesiastical +jurisdiction instead of the Church."</p> + +<p>"This will make ostracism parallel to the Reformation or the +Revolution," said Sheffield; "there is a battle of influence against +influence, and one gets rid of the other; law or constitution does not +come into question, but the will of the people or of the court ejects, +whether the too-gifted individual, or the monarch, or the religion. What +was not under the law could not be dealt with, had no claim to be dealt +with, by the law."</p> + +<p>"A thought has sometimes struck me," said Reding, "which falls in with +what you have been saying. In the last half-century there has been a +gradual formation of the popular party in the State, which now tends to +be acknowledged as constitutional, or is already so acknowledged. My +father never could endure newspapers—I mean the system of newspapers; +he said it was a new power in the State. I am sure I am not defending +what he was thinking of, the many bad proceedings, the wretched +principles, the arrogance and tyranny of newspaper writers, but I am +trying the subject by the test of your theory. The great body of the +people are very imperfectly represented in parliament; the Commons are +not their voice, but the voice of certain great interests. Consequently +the press comes in—to do that which the constitution does not do—to +form the people into a vast mutual-protection association.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">{168}</a></span> And this is +done by the same right that Deioces had to collect people about him; it +does not interfere with the existing territory of the law, but builds +where the constitution has not made provision. It <i>tends</i>, then, +ultimately to be recognised by the constitution."</p> + +<p>"There is another remarkable phenomenon of a similar kind now in process +of development," said Carlton, "and that is, the influence of agitation. +I really am not politician enough to talk of it as good or bad; one's +natural instinct is against it; but it may be necessary. However, +agitation is getting to be recognised as the legitimate instrument by +which the masses make their desires known, and secure the accomplishment +of them. Just as a bill passes in parliament, after certain readings, +discussions, speeches, votings, and the like, so the process by which an +act of the popular will becomes law is a long agitation, issuing in +petitions, previous to and concurrent with the parliamentary process. +The first instance of this was about fifty or sixty years ago, when ... +Hallo!" he cried, "who is this cantering up to us?"</p> + +<p>"I declare it is old Vincent," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"He is to come to dine," said Charles, "just in time."</p> + +<p>"How are you, Carlton?" cried Vincent. "How d'ye do, Mr. Sheffield? Mr. +Reding, how d'ye do? acting up to your name, I suppose, for you were +ever a reading man. For myself," he continued, "I am just now an eating +man, and am come to dine with you, if you will let me. Have you a place +for my horse?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">{169}</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a farmer near who could lend a stable; so the horse was led +off by Charles; and the rider, without any delay—for the hour did not +admit it—entered the cottage to make his brief preparation for dinner.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">{170}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_II" id="two_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">In</span> a few minutes all met together at table in the small parlour, which +was room of all work in the cottage. They had not the whole house, +limited as were its resources; for it was also the habitation of a +gardener, who took his vegetables to the Oxford market, and whose wife +(what is called) <i>did</i> for his lodgers.</p> + +<p>Dinner was suited to the apartment, apartment to the dinner. The +book-table had been hastily cleared for a cloth, not over white, and, in +consequence, the sole remaining table, which acted as sideboard, +displayed a relay of plates and knives and forks, in the midst of +octavos and duodecimos, bound and unbound, piled up and thrown about in +great variety of shapes. The other ornaments of this side-table were an +ink-glass, some quires of large paper, a straw hat, a gold watch, a +clothes-brush, some bottles of ginger-beer, a pair of gloves, a case of +cigars, a neck-handkerchief, a shoe-horn, a small slate, a large +clasp-knife, a hammer, and a handsome inlaid writing-desk.</p> + +<p>"I like these rides into the country," said Vincent, as they began +eating, "the country loses its effect on me when I live in it, as you +do; but it is exquisite as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">{171}</a></span> zest. Visit it, do not live in it, if you +would enjoy it. Country air is a stimulus; stimulants, Mr. Reding, +should not be taken too often. You are of the country party. I am of no +party. I go here and there—like the bee—I taste of everything, I +depend on nothing."</p> + +<p>Sheffield said that this was rather belonging to all parties than to +none.</p> + +<p>"That is impossible," answered Vincent; "I hold it to be altogether +impossible. You can't belong to two parties; there's no fear of it; you +might as well attempt to be in two places at once. To be connected with +both is to be united with neither. Depend on it, my young friend, +antagonist principles correct each other. It's a piece of philosophy +which one day you will thank me for, when you are older."</p> + +<p>"I have heard of an American illustration of this," said Sheffield, +"which certainly confirms what you say, sir. Professors in the United +States are sometimes of two or three religions at once, according as we +regard them historically, personally, or officially. In this way, +perhaps, they hit the mean."</p> + +<p>Vincent, though he so often excited a smile in others, had no humour +himself, and never could make out the difference between irony and +earnest. Accordingly he was brought to a stand.</p> + +<p>Charles came to his relief. "Before dinner," he said, "we were sporting +what you will consider a great paradox, I am afraid; that parties were +good things, or rather necessary things."</p> + +<p>"You don't do me justice," answered Vincent, "if this is what you think +I deny. I halve your words;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">{172}</a></span> parties are not good, but necessary; like +snails, I neither envy them their small houses, nor try to lodge in them +myself."</p> + +<p>"You mean," said Carlton, "that parties do our dirty work; they are our +beasts of burden; we could not get on without them, but we need not +identify ourselves with them; we may keep aloof."</p> + +<p>"That," said Sheffield, "is something like those religious professors +who say that it is sinful to engage in worldly though necessary +occupations; but that the reprobate undertake them, and work for the +elect."</p> + +<p>"There will always be persons enough in the world who like to be party +men, without being told to be so," said Vincent; "it's our business to +turn them to account, to use them, but to keep aloof. I take it, all +parties are partly right, only they go too far. I borrow from each, I +co-operate with each, as far as each is right, and no further. Thus I +get good from all, and I do good to all; for I countenance each, so far +as it is true."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carlton meant more than that, sir," said Sheffield; "he meant that +the existence of parties was not only necessary and useful, but even +right."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carlton is not the man to make paradoxes," said Vincent; "I suspect +he would not defend the extreme opinions, which, alas, exist among us at +present, and are progressing every day."</p> + +<p>"I was speaking of political parties," said Carlton, "but I am disposed +to extend what I said to religious also."</p> + +<p>"But, my good Carlton," said Vincent, "Scripture speaks against +religious parties."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">{173}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly I don't wish to oppose Scripture," said Carlton, "and I speak +under correction of Scripture; but I say this, that whenever and +wherever a church does not decide religious points, so far does it leave +the decision to individuals; and, since you can't expect all people to +agree together, you must have different opinions; and the expression of +those different opinions, by the various persons who hold them, is what +is called a party."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carlton has been great, sir, on the general subject before dinner," +said Sheffield, "and now he draws the corollary, that whenever there are +parties in a church, a church may thank itself for them. They are the +certain effect of private judgment; and the more private judgment you +have, the more parties you will have. You are reduced, then, to this +alternative, no toleration or else party; and you must recognise party, +unless you refuse toleration."</p> + +<p>"Sheffield words it more strongly than I should do," said Carlton; "but +really I mean pretty much what he says. Take the case of the Roman +Catholics; they have decided many points of theology, many they have not +decided; and wherever there is no ecclesiastical decision, there they +have at once a party, or what they call a 'school;' and when the +ecclesiastical decision at length appears, then the party ceases. Thus +you have the Dominicans and Franciscans contending about the Immaculate +Conception; they went on contending because authority did not at once +decide the question. On the other hand, when Jesuits and Jansenists +disputed on the question of grace, the Pope gave it in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">{174}</a></span> favour of the +Jesuits, and the controversy at once came to an end."</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Vincent, "my good and worthy friend, the Rev. Charles +Carlton, Fellow of Leicester, and sometime Ireland Essayist, is not +preferring the Church of Rome to the Church of England?"</p> + +<p>Carlton laughed; "You won't suspect me of that, I think," he answered; +"no; all I say is, that our Church, from its constitution, admits, +approves of private judgment; and that private judgment, so far forth as +it is admitted, necessarily involves parties; the slender private +judgment allowed in the Church of Rome admitting occasional or local +parties, and the ample private judgment allowed in our Church +recognizing parties as an element of the Church."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, my good Carlton," said Vincent, frowning and looking wise, +yet without finding anything particular to say.</p> + +<p>"You mean," said Sheffield, "if I understand you, that it is a piece of +mawkish hypocrisy to shake the head and throw up the eyes at Mr. this or +that for being the head of a religious party, while we return thanks for +our pure and reformed Church; because purity, reformation, apostolicity, +toleration, all these boasts and glories of the Church of England, +establish party action and party spirit as a cognate blessing, for which +we should be thankful also. Party is one of our greatest ornaments, Mr. +Vincent."</p> + +<p>"A sentiment or argument does not lose in your hands," said Carlton; +"but what I meant was simply that party leaders are not dishonourable in +the Church,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">{175}</a></span> unless Lord John Russell or Sir Robert Peel hold a +dishonourable post in the State."</p> + +<p>"My young friend," said Vincent, finishing his mutton, and pushing his +plate from him, "my two young friends—for Carlton is not much older +than Mr. Sheffield—may you learn a little more judgment. When you have +lived to my age" (viz. two or three years beyond Carlton's) "you will +learn sobriety in all things. Mr. Reding, another glass of wine. See +that poor child, how she totters under the gooseberry-pudding; up, Mr. +Sheffield, and help her. The old woman cooks better than I had expected. +How do you get your butcher's meat here, Carlton? I should have made the +attempt to bring you a fine jack I saw in our kitchen, but I thought you +would have no means of cooking it."</p> + +<p>Dinner over, the party rose, and strolled out on the green. Another +subject commenced.</p> + +<p>"Was not Mr. Willis of St. George's a friend of yours, Mr. Reding?" +asked Vincent.</p> + +<p>Charles started; "I knew him a little ... I have seen him several +times."</p> + +<p>"You know he left us," continued Vincent, "and joined the Church of +Rome. Well, it is credibly reported that he is returning."</p> + +<p>"A melancholy history, anyhow," answered Charles; "most melancholy, if +this is true."</p> + +<p>"Rather," said Vincent, setting him right, as if he had simply made a +verbal mistake, "a most happy termination, you mean; the only thing that +was left for him to do. You know he went abroad. Any one who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">{176}</a></span> is +inclined to Romanize should go abroad; Carlton, we shall be sending you +soon. Here things are softened down; there you see the Church of Rome as +it really is. I have been abroad, and should know it. Such heaps of +beggars in the streets of Rome and Naples; so much squalidness and +misery; no cleanliness; an utter want of comfort; and such superstition; +and such an absence of all true and evangelical seriousness. They push +and fight while Mass is going on; they jabber their prayers at railroad +speed; they worship the Virgin as a goddess; and they see miracles at +the corner of every street. Their images are awful, and their ignorance +prodigious. Well, Willis saw all this; and I have it on good authority," +he said mysteriously, "that he is thoroughly disgusted with the whole +affair, and is coming back to us."</p> + +<p>"Is he in England now?" asked Reding.</p> + +<p>"He is said to be with his mother in Devonshire, who, perhaps you know, +is a widow; and he has been too much for her. Poor silly fellow, who +would not take the advice of older heads! A friend once sent him to me; +I could make nothing of him. I couldn't understand his arguments, nor he +mine. It was no good; he would make trial himself, and he has caught +it."</p> + +<p>There was a short pause in the conversation; then Vincent added, "But +such perversions, Carlton, I suppose, thinks to be as necessary as +parties in a pure Protestant Church."</p> + +<p>"I can't say you satisfy me, Carlton," said Charles; "and I am happy to +have the sanction of Mr. Vincent. Did political party make men rebels, +then would political<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">{177}</a></span> party be indefensible; so is religious, if it +leads to apostasy."</p> + +<p>"You know the Whigs <i>were</i> accused in the last war," said Sheffield, "of +siding with Bonaparte; accidents of this kind don't affect general rules +or standing customs."</p> + +<p>"Well, independent of this," answered Charles, "I cannot think religious +parties defensible on the considerations which justify political. There +is, to my feelings, something despicable in heading a religious party."</p> + +<p>"Was Loyola despicable," asked Sheffield, "or St. Dominic?"</p> + +<p>"They had the sanction of their superiors," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"You are hard on parties surely, Reding," said Carlton; "a man may +individually write, preach, and publish what he believes to be the +truth, without offence; why, then, does it begin to be wrong when he +does so together with others?"</p> + +<p>"Party tactics are a degradation of the truth," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"We have heard, I believe, before now," said Carlton, "of Athanasius +against the whole world, and the whole world against Athanasius."</p> + +<p>"Well," answered Charles, "I will but say this, that a party man must be +very much above par or below it."</p> + +<p>"There, again, I don't agree," said Carlton; "you are supposing the +leader of a party to be conscious of what he is doing; and, being +conscious, he may be, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">{178}</a></span> you say, either much above or below the +average; but a man need not realise to himself that he is forming a +party."</p> + +<p>"That's more difficult to conceive," said Vincent, "than any statement +which has been hazarded this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Not at all difficult," answered Carlton: "do you mean that there is +only one way of gaining influence? surely there is such a thing as +unconscious influence?"</p> + +<p>"I'd as easily believe," said Vincent, "that a beauty does not know her +charms."</p> + +<p>"That's narrow-minded," retorted Carlton: "a man sits in his room and +writes, and does not know what people think of him."</p> + +<p>"I'd believe it less," persisted Vincent: "beauty is a fact; influence +is an effect. Effects imply agents, agency, will and consciousness."</p> + +<p>"There are different modes of influence," interposed Sheffield; +"influence is often spontaneous and almost necessary."</p> + +<p>"Like the light on Moses' face," said Carlton.</p> + +<p>"Bonaparte is said to have had an irresistible smile," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"What is beauty itself, but a spontaneous influence?" added Carlton; +"don't you recollect 'the lovely young Lavinia' in Thomson?"</p> + +<p>"Well, gentlemen," said Vincent, "when I am Chancellor I will give a +prize essay on 'Moral Influence, its Kinds and Causes,' and Mr. +Sheffield shall get it; and as to Carlton, he shall be my Poetry +Professor when I am Convocation."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">{179}</a></span></p> + +<p>You will say, good reader, that the party took a very short stroll on +the hill, when we tell you that they were now stooping their heads at +the lowly door of the cottage; but the terse <i>littera scripta</i> abridges +wondrously the rambling <i>vox emissa</i>; and there might be other things +said in the course of the conversation which history has not +condescended to record. Anyhow, we are obliged now to usher them again +into the room where they had dined, and where they found tea ready laid, +and the kettle speedily forthcoming. The bread and butter were +excellent; and the party did justice to them, as if they had not lately +dined. "I see you keep your tea in tin cases," said Vincent; "I am for +glass. Don't spare the tea, Mr. Reding; Oxford men do not commonly fail +on that head. Lord Bacon says the first and best juice of the grape, +like the primary, purest, and best comment on Scripture, is not pressed +and forced out, but consists of a natural exudation. This is the case in +Italy at this day; and they call the juice '<i>lagrima</i>.' So it is with +tea, and with coffee too. Put in a large quantity, pour on the water, +turn off the liquor; turn it off at once—don't let it stand; it becomes +poisonous. I am a great patron of tea; the poet truly says, 'It cheers, +but not inebriates.' It has sometimes a singular effect upon my nerves; +it makes me whistle—so people tell me; I am not conscious of it. +Sometimes, too, it has a dyspeptic effect. I find it does not do to take +it too hot; we English drink our liquors too hot. It is not a French +failing; no, indeed. In France, that is, in the country, you get nothing +for breakfast but acid wine and grapes; this is the other extreme, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">{180}</a></span> +has before now affected me awfully. Yet acids, too, have a soothing +sedative effect upon one; lemonade especially. But nothing suits me so +well as tea. Carlton," he continued mysteriously, "do you know the late +Dr. Baillie's preventive of the flatulency which tea produces? Mr. +Sheffield, do you?" Both gave up. "Camomile flowers; a little camomile, +not a great deal; some people chew rhubarb, but a little camomile in the +tea is not perceptible. Don't make faces, Mr. Sheffield; a little, I +say; a little of everything is best—<i>ne quid nimis</i>. Avoid all +extremes. So it is with sugar. Mr. Reding, you are putting too much into +your tea. I lay down this rule: sugar should not be a substantive +ingredient in tea, but an adjective; that is, tea has a natural +roughness; sugar is only intended to remove that roughness; it has a +negative office; when it is more than this, it is too much. Well, +Carlton, it is time for me to be seeing after my horse. I fear he has +not had so pleasant an afternoon as I. I have enjoyed myself much in +your suburban villa. What a beautiful moon! but I have some very rough +ground to pass over. I daren't canter over the ruts with the gravel-pits +close before me. Mr. Sheffield, do me the favour to show me the way to +the stable. Good-bye to you, Carlton; good night, Mr. Reding."</p> + +<p>When they were left to themselves Charles asked Carlton if he really +meant to acquit of party spirit the present party leaders in Oxford. +"You must not misunderstand me," answered he; "I do not know much of +them, but I know they are persons of great merit and high character, and +I wish to think the best of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">{181}</a></span> them. They are most unfairly attacked, that +is certain; however, they are accused of wishing to make a display, of +aiming at influence and power, of loving agitation, and so on. I cannot +deny that some things they have done have an unpleasant appearance, and +give plausibility to the charge. I wish they had, at certain times, +acted otherwise. Meanwhile, I do think it but fair to keep in view that +the existence of parties is no fault of theirs. They are but claiming +their birthright as Protestants. When the Church does not speak, others +will speak instead; and learned men have the best right to speak. Again, +when learned men speak, others will attend to them; and thus the +formation of a party is rather the act of those who follow than of those +who lead."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">{182}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_III" id="two_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Sheffield</span> had some friends residing at Chalton, a neighbouring village, +with a scholar of St. Michael's, who had a small cure with a house on +it. One of them, indeed, was known to Reding also, being no other than +our friend White, who was going into the schools, and during the last +six months had been trying to make up for the time he had wasted in the +first years of his residence. Charles had lost sight of him, or nearly +so, since he first knew him; and at their time of life so considerable +an interval could not elapse without changes in the character for good +or evil, or for both. Carlton and Charles, who were a good deal thrown +together by Sheffield's frequent engagements with the Chalton party, +were just turning homewards in their walk one evening when they fell in +with White, who had been calling at Mr. Bolton's in Oxford, and was +returning. They had not proceeded very far before they were joined by +Sheffield and Mr. Barry, the curate of Chalton; and thus the party was +swelled to five.</p> + +<p>"So you are going to lose Upton?" said Barry to Reding; "a capital +tutor; you can ill spare him. Who comes into his place?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">{183}</a></span></p> + +<p>"We don't know," answered Charles; "the Principal will call up one of +the Junior Fellows from the country, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you won't get a man like Upton," said Carlton; "he knew his +subject so thoroughly. His lecture in the Agricola, I've heard your men +say, might have been published. It was a masterly, minute running +comment on the text, quite exhausting it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was his forte," said Charles; "yet he never loaded his +lectures; everything he said had a meaning, and was wanted."</p> + +<p>"He has got a capital living," said Barry; "a substantial modern house, +and by the rail only an hour from London."</p> + +<p>"And 500<i>l.</i> a year," said White; "Mr. Bolton went over the living, and +told me so. It's in my future neighbourhood; a very beautiful country, +and a number of good families round about."</p> + +<p>"They say he's going to marry the Dean of Selsey's daughter," said +Barry; "do you know the family? Miss Juliet, the thirteenth, a very +pretty girl."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said White, "I know them all; a most delightful family; Mrs. +Bland is a charming woman, so very ladylike. It's my good luck to be +under the Dean's jurisdiction; I think I shall pull with him capitally."</p> + +<p>"He's a clever man," said Barry; "his charges are always well written; +he had a high name in his day at Cambridge."</p> + +<p>"Hasn't he been lately writing against your friends here, White?" said +Sheffield.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">{184}</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>My</i> friends!" said White; "whom can you mean? He has written against +parties and party leaders; and with reason, I think. Oh, yes; he alluded +to poor Willis and some others."</p> + +<p>"It was more that that," insisted Sheffield; "he charged against certain +sayings and doings at St. Mary's."</p> + +<p>"Well, I for one cannot approve of all that is uttered from the pulpit +there," said White; "I know for a fact that Willis refers with great +satisfaction to what he heard there as inclining him to Romanism."</p> + +<p>"I wish preachers and hearers would all go over together at once, and +then we should have some quiet time for proper University studies," said +Barry.</p> + +<p>"Take care what you are saying, Barry," said Sheffield; "you mean +present company excepted. You, White, I think, come under the +denomination of hearers?"</p> + +<p>"I!" said White; "no such thing. I have been to hear him before now, as +most men have; but I think him often very injudicious, or worse. The +tendency of his preaching is to make one dissatisfied with one's own +Church."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sheffield, "one's memory plays one tricks, or I should say +that a friend of mine had said ten times as strong things against our +Church as any preacher in Oxford ever did."</p> + +<p>"You mean me," said White, with earnestness; "you have misunderstood me +grievously. I have ever been most faithful to the Church of England. You +never heard me say anything inconsistent with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">{185}</a></span> warmest attachment to +it. I have never, indeed, denied the claims of the Romish Church to be a +branch of the Catholic Church, nor will I,—that's another thing quite; +there are many things which we might borrow with great advantage from +the Romanists. But I have ever loved, and hope I shall ever venerate, my +own Mother, the Church of my baptism."</p> + +<p>Sheffield made an odd face, and no one spoke. White continued, +attempting to preserve an unconcerned manner: "It is remarkable," he +said, "that Mr. Bolton—who, though a layman, and no divine, is a +sensible, practical, shrewd man—never liked that pulpit; he always +prophesied no good would come of it."</p> + +<p>The silence continuing, White presently fell upon Sheffield. "I defy +you," he said, with an attempt to be jocular, "to prove what you have +been hinting; it is a great shame. It's so easy to speak against men, to +call them injudicious, extravagant, and so on. You are the only +person—"</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I know it, I know it," said Sheffield; "we're only +canonizing you, and I am the devil's advocate."</p> + +<p>Charles wanted to hear something about Willis; so he turned the current +of White's thoughts by coming up and asking him whether there was any +truth in the report he had heard from Vincent several weeks before; had +White heard from him lately? White knew very little about him +definitely, and was not able to say whether the report was true or not. +So far was certain, that he had returned from abroad and was living at +home. Thus he had not committed himself to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">{186}</a></span> the Church of Rome, whether +as a theological student or as a novice; but he could not say more. Yes, +he had heard one thing more; and the subject of a letter which he had +received from him corroborated it—that he was very strong on the point +that Romanism and Anglicanism were two religions; that you could not +amalgamate them; that you must be Roman or Anglican, but could not be +Anglo-Roman or Anglo-Catholic. "This is what a friend told me. In his +letter to myself," White continued, "I don't know quite what he meant, +but he spoke a good deal of the necessity of faith in order to be a +Catholic. He said no one should go over merely because he thought he +should like it better; that he had found out by experience that no one +could live on sentiment; that the whole system of worship in the Romish +Church was different from what it is in our own; nay, the very idea of +worship, the idea of prayers; that the doctrine of intention itself, +viewed in all its parts, constituted a new religion. He did not speak of +himself definitely, but he said generally that all this might be a great +discouragement to a convert, and throw him back. On the whole, the tone +of his letter was like a person disappointed, and who might be +reclaimed; at least, so I thought."</p> + +<p>"He is a wiser, even if he is a sadder man," said Charles: "I did not +know he had so much in him. There is more reflection in all this than so +excitable a person, as he seemed to me, is capable of exercising. At the +same time there is nothing in all this to prove that he is sorry for +what he has done."</p> + +<p>"I have granted this," said White; "still the effect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">{187}</a></span> of the letter was +to keep people back from following him, by putting obstacles in their +way; and then we must couple this with the fact of his going home."</p> + +<p>Charles thought awhile. "Vincent's testimony," he said, "is either a +confirmation or a mere exaggeration of what you have told me, according +as it is independent or not." Then he said to himself, "White, too, has +more in him than I thought; he really has spoken about Willis very +sensibly: what has come to him?"</p> + +<p>The paths soon divided; and while the Chalton pair took the right hand, +Carlton and his pupils turned to the left. Soon Carlton parted from the +two friends, and they reached their cottage just in time to see the +setting sun.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">{188}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_IV" id="two_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">A few</span> days later, Carlton, Sheffield, and Reding were talking together +after dinner out of doors about White.</p> + +<p>"How he is altered," said Charles, "since I first knew him!"</p> + +<p>"Altered!" cried Sheffield; "he was a playful kitten once, and now he is +one of the dullest old tabbies I ever came across."</p> + +<p>"Altered for the better," said Charles; "he has now a steady sensible +way of talking; but he was not a very wise person two years ago; he is +reading, too, really hard."</p> + +<p>"He has some reason," said Sheffield, "for he is sadly behindhand; but +there is another cause of his steadiness which perhaps you know."</p> + +<p>"I! no indeed," answered Charles.</p> + +<p>"I thought of course you knew it," said Sheffield; "you don't mean to +say you have not heard that he is engaged to some Oxford girl?"</p> + +<p>"Engaged!" cried Charles, "how absurd!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all, my dear Reding," said Carlton. "It's not as if +he could not afford it; he has a good living waiting for him; and, +moreover, he is thus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">{189}</a></span> losing no time, which is a great thing in life. +Much time is often lost. White will soon find himself settled in every +sense of the word, in mind, in life, in occupation."</p> + +<p>Charles said that there was one thing which could not help surprising +him, namely, that when White first came up he was so strong in his +advocacy of clerical celibacy. Carlton and Sheffield laughed. "And do +you think," said the former, "that a youth of eighteen can have an +opinion on such a subject, or knows himself well enough to make a +resolution in his own case? Do you really think it fair to hold a man +committed to all the random opinions and extravagant sayings into which +he was betrayed when he first left school?"</p> + +<p>"He had read some ultra-book or other," said Sheffield; "or had seen +some beautiful nun sculptured on a chancel-screen, and was carried away +by romance—as others have been and are."</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose," said Carlton, "that those good fellows who now are +so full of 'sacerdotal purity,' 'angelical blessedness,' and so on, will +one and all be married by this time ten years?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take a bet of it," said Sheffield: "one will give in early, one +late, but there is a time destined for all. Pass some ten or twelve +years, as Carlton says, and we shall find A.B. on a curacy, the happy +father of ten children; C.D. wearing on a long courtship till a living +falls; E.F. in his honeymoon; G.H. lately presented by Mrs. H. with +twins; I.K. full of joy, just accepted; L.M. may remain what Gibbon +calls 'a column in the midst of ruins,' and a very tottering column +too."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">{190}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you really think," said Charles, "that people mean so little what +they say?"</p> + +<p>"You take matters too seriously, Reding," answered Carlton; "who does +not change his opinions between twenty and thirty? A young man enters +life with his father's or tutor's views; he changes them for his own. +The more modest and diffident he is, the more faith he has, so much the +longer does he speak the words of others; but the force of +circumstances, or the vigour of his mind, infallibly obliges him at last +to have a mind of his own; that is, if he is good for anything."</p> + +<p>"But I suspect," said Reding, "that the last generation, whether of +fathers or tutors, had no very exalted ideas of clerical celibacy."</p> + +<p>"Accidents often clothe us with opinions which we wear for a time," said +Carlton.</p> + +<p>"Well, I honour people who wear their family suit; I don't honour those +at all who begin with foreign fashions and then abandon them."</p> + +<p>"A few years more of life," said Carlton, smiling, "will make your +judgment kinder."</p> + +<p>"I don't like talkers," continued Charles; "I don't think I ever shall; +I hope not."</p> + +<p>"I know better what's at the bottom of it," said Sheffield; "but I can't +stay; I must go in and read; Reding is too fond of a gossip."</p> + +<p>"Who talks so much as you, Sheffield?" said Charles.</p> + +<p>"But I talk fast when I talk," answered he, "and get through a great +deal of work; then I give over: but you prose, and muse, and sigh, and +prose again." And so he left them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">{191}</a></span></p> + +<p>"What does he mean?" asked Carlton.</p> + +<p>Charles slightly coloured and laughed: "You are a man I say things to, I +don't to others," he made answer; "as to Sheffield, he fancies he has +found it out of himself."</p> + +<p>Carlton looked round at him sharply and curiously.</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed of myself," said Charles, laughing and looking confused; +"I have made you think that I have something important to tell, but +really I have nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"Well, out with it," said Carlton.</p> + +<p>"Why, to tell the truth,—no, really, it is too absurd. I have made a +fool of myself."</p> + +<p>He turned away, then turned back, and resumed:</p> + +<p>"Why, it was only this, that Sheffield fancies I have some sneaking +kindness for ... celibacy myself."</p> + +<p>"Kindness for whom?" said Carlton.</p> + +<p>"Kindness for celibacy."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, and Carlton's face somewhat changed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear good fellow," he said kindly, "so you are one of them; but +it will go off."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it will," said Charles: "oh, I am laying no stress upon it. It +was Sheffield who made me mention it."</p> + +<p>A real difference of mind and view had evidently been struck upon by two +friends, very congenial and very fond of each other. There was a pause +for a few seconds.</p> + +<p>"You are so sensible a fellow, Reding," said Carlton, "it surprises me +that you should take up this notion."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">{192}</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's no new notion taken up," answered Charles; "you will smile, but I +had it when a boy at school, and I have ever since fancied that I should +never marry. Not that the feeling has never intermitted, but it is the +habit of my mind. My general thoughts run in that one way, that I shall +never marry. If I did, I should dread Thalaba's punishment."</p> + +<p>Carlton put his hand on Reding's shoulder, and gently shook him to and +fro; "Well, it surprises me," he said; then, after a pause, "I have been +accustomed to think both celibacy and marriage good in their way. In the +Church of Rome great good, I see, comes of celibacy; but depend on it, +my dear Reding, you are making a great blunder if you are for +introducing celibacy into the Anglican Church."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing against it in Prayer Book or Articles," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not; but the whole genius, structure, working of our Church +goes the other way. For instance, we have no monasteries to relieve the +poor; and if we had, I suspect, as things are, a parson's wife would, in +practical substantial usefulness, be infinitely superior to all the +monks that were ever shaven. I declare, I think the Bishop of Ipswich is +almost justified in giving out that none but married men have a chance +of preferment from him; nay, the Bishop of Abingdon, who makes a rule of +bestowing his best livings as marriage portions to the most virtuous +young ladies in his diocese." Carlton spoke with more energy than was +usual with him.</p> + +<p>Charles answered, that he was not looking to the expediency<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">{193}</a></span> or +feasibility of the thing, but at what seemed to him best in itself, and +what he could not help admiring. "I said nothing about the celibacy of +clergy," he observed, "but of celibacy generally."</p> + +<p>"Celibacy has no place in our idea or our system of religion, depend on +it," said Carlton. "It is nothing to the purpose, whether there is +anything in the Articles against it; it is not a question about formal +enactments, but whether the genius of Anglicanism is not utterly at +variance with it. The experience of three hundred years is surely +abundant for our purpose; if we don't know what our religion is in that +time, what time will be long enough? there are forms of religion which +have not lasted so long from first to last. Now enumerate the cases of +celibacy for celibacy's sake in that period, and what will be the sum +total of them? Some instances there are; but even Hammond, who died +unmarried, was going to marry, when his mother wished it. On the other +hand, if you look out for types of our Church can you find truer than +the married excellence of Hooker the profound, Taylor the devotional, +and Bull the polemical? The very first reformed primate is married; in +Pole and Parker, the two systems, Roman and Anglican, come into strong +contrast."</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems to me as much a yoke of bondage," said Charles, "to +compel marriage as to compel celibacy, and that is what you are really +driving at. You are telling me that any one is a black sheep who does +not marry."</p> + +<p>"Not a very practical difficulty to you at this moment," said Carlton; +"no one is asking you to go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">{194}</a></span> about on Cœlebs' mission just now, with +Aristotle in hand and the class-list in view."</p> + +<p>"Well, excuse me," said Charles, "if I have said anything very foolish; +you don't suppose I argue on such subjects with others."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">{195}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_V" id="two_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">They</span> had by this time strolled as far as Carlton's lodgings, where the +books happened to be on which Charles was at that time more immediately +employed; and they took two or three turns under some fine beeches which +stood in front of the house before entering it.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Reding," said Carlton, "for really I don't understand, what +are your reasons for admiring what, in truth, is simply an unnatural +state."</p> + +<p>"Don't let us talk more, my dear Carlton," answered Reding; "I shall go +on making a fool of myself. Let well alone, or bad alone, pray do."</p> + +<p>It was evident that there was some strong feeling irritating him +inwardly; the manner and words were too serious for the occasion. +Carlton, too, felt strongly upon what seemed at first sight a very +secondary question, or he would have let it alone, as Charles asked him.</p> + +<p>"No; as we are on the subject, let me get at your view," said he. "It +was said in the beginning, 'Increase and multiply;' therefore celibacy +is unnatural."</p> + +<p>"Supernatural," said Charles, smiling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">{196}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is not that a word without an idea?" asked Carlton. "We are taught by +Butler that there is an analogy between nature and grace; else you might +parallel paganism to nature, and where paganism is contrary to nature, +say that it is supernatural. The Wesleyan convulsions are preternatural; +why not supernatural?"</p> + +<p>"I really think that our divines, or at least some of them, are on my +side here," said Charles—"Jeremy Taylor, I believe."</p> + +<p>"You have not told me what you mean by supernatural," said Carlton; "I +want to get at what <i>you</i> think, you know."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," said Charles, "that Christianity, being the perfection +of nature, is both like it and unlike it;—like it, where it is the same +or as much as nature; unlike it, where it is as much and more. I mean by +supernatural the perfection of nature."</p> + +<p>"Give me an instance," said Carlton.</p> + +<p>"Why, consider, Carlton; our Lord says, 'Ye have heard that it has been +said of old time,—but <i>I</i> say unto you;' that contrast denotes the more +perfect way, or the gospel ... He came not to destroy, but to fulfil the +law ... I can't recollect of a sudden; ... oh, for instance, <i>this</i> is a +case in point; He abolished a permission which had been given to the +Jews because of the hardness of their hearts."</p> + +<p>"Not quite in point," said Carlton, "for the Jews, in their divorces, +had fallen <i>below</i> nature. 'Let no man put asunder,' was the rule in +Paradise."</p> + +<p>"Still, surely the idea of an Apostle, unmarried,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">{197}</a></span> pure, in fast and +nakedness, and at length a martyr, is a higher idea than that of one of +the old Israelites sitting under his vine and fig-tree, full of temporal +goods, and surrounded by sons and grandsons. I am not derogating from +Gideon or Caleb; I am adding to St. Paul."</p> + +<p>"St. Paul's is a very particular case," said Carlton.</p> + +<p>"But he himself lays down the general maxim, that it is 'good' for a man +to continue as he was."</p> + +<p>"There we come to a question of criticism, what 'good' means: I may +think it means 'expedient,' and what he says about the 'present +distress' confirms it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't go to criticism," said Charles; "take the text, 'in sin +hath my mother conceived me.' Do not these words show that, over and +above the doctrine of original sin, there is (to say the least) great +risk of marriage leading to sin in married people?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Reding," said Carlton, astonished, "you are running into +Gnosticism."</p> + +<p>"Not knowingly or willingly," answered Charles; "but understand what I +mean. It's not a subject I can talk about; but it seems to me, without +of course saying that married persons must sin (which would be +Gnosticism), that there is a danger of sin. But don't let me say more on +this point."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Carlton, after thinking awhile, "<i>I</i> have been accustomed +to consider Christianity as the perfection of man as a whole, body, +soul, and spirit. Don't misunderstand me. Pantheists say body and +intellect, leaving out the moral principle; but I say spirit as well as +mind. Spirit, or the principle of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">{198}</a></span> religious faith and obedience, should +be the master principle, the <i>hegemonicon</i>. To this both intellect and +body are subservient; but as this supremacy does not imply the +ill-usage, the bondage of the intellect, neither does it of the body; +both should be well treated."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think, on the contrary, it does imply in one sense the bondage +of intellect and body too. What is faith but the submission of the +intellect? and as 'every high thought is brought into captivity,' so are +we expressly told to bring the body into subjection too. They are both +well treated, when they are treated so as to be made fit instruments of +the sovereign principle."</p> + +<p>"That is what I call unnatural," said Carlton.</p> + +<p>"And it is what I mean by supernatural," answered Reding, getting a +little too earnest.</p> + +<p>"How is it supernatural, or adding to nature, to destroy a part of it?" +asked Carlton.</p> + +<p>Charles was puzzled. It was a way, he said, <i>towards</i> perfection; but he +thought that perfection came after death, not here. Our nature could not +be perfect with a corruptible body; the body was treated now as a body +of death.</p> + +<p>"Well, Reding," answered Carlton, "you make Christianity a very +different religion from what our Church considers it, I really think;" +and he paused awhile.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he proceeded, "how can we rejoice in Christ, as having been +redeemed by Him, if we are in this sort of gloomy penitential state? How +much is said in St. Paul about peace, thanksgiving, assurance, comfort, +and the like! Old things are passed away;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">{199}</a></span> the Jewish law is destroyed; +pardon and peace are come; <i>that</i> is the Gospel."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think, then," said Charles, "that we should grieve for the +sins into which we are daily betrayed, and for the more serious offences +which from time to time we may have committed?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; we do so in Morning and Evening Prayer, and in the Communion +Service."</p> + +<p>"Well, but supposing a youth, as is so often the case, has neglected +religion altogether, and has a whole load of sins, and very heinous +ones, all upon him,—do you think that, when he turns over a new leaf, +and comes to Communion, he is, on saying the Confession (saying it with +that contrition with which such persons ought to say it), pardoned at +once, and has nothing more to fear about his past sins?"</p> + +<p>"I should say, 'Yes,'" answered Carlton.</p> + +<p>"Really," said Charles thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Carlton, "I suppose him truly sorry or penitent: +whether he is so or not his future life will show."</p> + +<p>"Well, somehow, I cannot master this idea," said Charles; "I think most +serious persons, even for a little sin, would go on fidgeting +themselves, and would not suppose they gained pardon directly they asked +for it."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered Carlton; "but God pardons those who do not pardon +themselves."</p> + +<p>"That is," said Charles, "who <i>don't</i> at once feel peace, assurance, and +comfort; who <i>don't</i> feel the perfect joy of the Gospel."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">{200}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Such persons grieve, but rejoice too," said Carlton.</p> + +<p>"But tell me, Carlton," said Reding; "is, or is not, their not forgiving +themselves, their sorrow and trouble, pleasing to God?"</p> + +<p>"Surely."</p> + +<p>"Thus a certain self-infliction for sin committed is pleasing to Him; +and, if so, how does it matter whether it is inflicted on mind or body?"</p> + +<p>"It is not properly a self-infliction," answered Carlton; +"self-infliction implies intention; grief at sin is something +spontaneous. When you afflict yourself on purpose, then at once you pass +from pure Christianity."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles, "I certainly fancied that fasting, abstinence, +labours, celibacy, might be taken as a make-up for sin. It is not a very +far-fetched idea. You recollect Dr. Johnson's standing in the rain in +the market-place at Lichfield when a man, as a penance for some +disobedience to his father when a boy?"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Reding," said Carlton, "let me bring you back to what you +said originally, and to my answer to you, which what you now say only +makes more apposite. You began by saying that celibacy was a perfection +of nature, now you make it a penance; first it is good and glorious, +next it is a medicine and punishment."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps our highest perfection here is penance," said Charles; "but I +don't know; I don't profess to have clear ideas upon the subject. I have +talked more than I like. Let us at length give over."</p> + +<p>They did, in consequence, pass to other subjects connected with +Charles's reading; then they entered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">{201}</a></span> the house, and set to upon +Polybius; but it could not be denied that for the rest of the day +Carlton's manner was not quite his own, as if something had annoyed him. +Next morning he was as usual.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">{202}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_VI" id="two_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">It</span> is impossible to stop the growth of the mind. Here was Charles with +his thoughts turned away from religious controversy for two years, yet +with his religious views progressing, unknown to himself, the whole +time. It could not have been otherwise, if he was to live a religious +life at all. If he was to worship and obey his Creator, intellectual +acts, conclusions, and judgments, must accompany that worship and +obedience. He might not realize his own belief till questions had been +put to him; but then a single discussion with a friend, such as the +above with Carlton, would bring out what he really did hold to his own +apprehension—would ascertain for him the limits of each opinion as he +held it, and the inter-relations of opinion with opinion. He had not yet +given names to these opinions, much less had they taken a theological +form; nor could they, under his circumstances, be expressed in +theological language; but here he was, a young man of twenty-two, +professing in an hour's conversation with a friend, what really were the +Catholic doctrines and usages of penance, purgatory, councils of +perfection, mortification of self, and clerical celibacy. No wonder that +all this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">{203}</a></span> annoyed Carlton, though he no more than Charles perceived that +all this Catholicism did in fact lie hid under his professions; but he +felt, in what Reding put out, the presence of something, as he expressed +it, "very unlike the Church of England;" something new and unpleasant to +him, and withal something which had a body in it, which had a momentum, +which could not be passed over as a vague, sudden sound or transitory +cloud, but which had much behind it, which made itself felt, which +struck heavily.</p> + +<p>And here we see what is meant when a person says that the Catholic +system comes home to his mind, fulfils his ideas of religion, satisfies +his sympathies, and the like; and thereupon becomes a Catholic. Such a +person is often said to go by private judgment, to be choosing his +religion by his own standard of what a religion ought to be. Now it need +not be denied that those who are external to the Church must begin with +private judgment; they use it in order ultimately to supersede it; as a +man out of doors uses a lamp in a dark night, and puts it out when he +gets home. What would be thought of his bringing it into his +drawing-room? what would the goodly company there assembled before a +genial hearth and under glittering chandeliers, the bright ladies and +the well-dressed gentlemen, say to him if he came in with a great-coat +on his back, a hat on his head, an umbrella under his arm, and a large +stable-lantern in his hand? Yet what would be thought, on the other +hand, if he precipitated himself into the inhospitable night and the war +of the elements in his ball-dress? "When the king came in to see the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">{204}</a></span> +guests, he saw a man who had not on a wedding-garment;" he saw a man who +determined to live in the Church as he had lived out of it, who would +not use his privileges, who would not exchange reason for faith, who +would not accommodate his thoughts and doings to the glorious scene +which surrounded him, who was groping for the hidden treasure and +digging for the pearl of price in the high, lustrous, all-jewelled +Temple of the Lord of Hosts; who shut his eyes and speculated, when he +might open them and see. There is no absurdity, then, or inconsistency +in a person first using his private judgment and then denouncing its +use. Circumstances change duties.</p> + +<p>But still, after all, the person in question does not, strictly +speaking, judge of the external system presented to him by his private +ideas, but he brings in the dicta of that system to confirm and to +justify certain private judgments and personal feelings and habits +already existing. Reding, for instance, felt a difficulty in determining +how and when the sins of a Christian are forgiven; he had a great notion +that celibacy was better than married life. He was not the first person +in the Church of England who had had such thoughts; to numbers, +doubtless, before him they had occurred; but these numbers had looked +abroad, and seen nothing around them to justify what they felt, and +their feelings had, in consequence, either festered within them, or +withered away. But when a man, thus constituted within, falls under the +shadow of Catholicism without, then the mighty Creed at once produces an +influence upon him. He see that it justifies his thoughts, explains<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">{205}</a></span> his +feelings; he understands that it numbers, corrects, harmonizes, +completes them; and he is led to ask what is the authority of this +foreign teaching; and then, when he finds it is what was once received +in England from north to south, in England from the very time that +Christianity was introduced here; that, as far as historical records go, +Christianity and Catholicism are synonymous; that it is still the faith +of the largest section of the Christian world; and that the faith of his +own country is held nowhere but within her own limits and those of her +own colonies; nay, further, that it is very difficult to say what faith +she has, or that she has any,—then he submits himself to the Catholic +Church, not by a process of criticism, but as a pupil to a teacher.</p> + +<p>In saying this, of course it is not denied, on the one hand, that there +may be persons who come to the Catholic Church on imperfect motives, or +in a wrong way; who choose it by criticism, and who, unsubdued by its +majesty and its grace, go on criticizing when they are in it; and who, +if they persist and do not learn humility, may criticize themselves out +of it again. Nor is it denied, on the other hand, that some who are not +Catholics may possibly choose (for instance) Methodism, in the above +moral way, viz. because it confirms and justifies the inward feeling of +their hearts. This is certainly possible in idea, though what there is +venerable, awful, superhuman, in the Wesleyan Conference to persuade one +to take it as a prophet, is a perplexing problem; yet, after all, the +matter of fact we conceive to lie the other way, viz. that Wesleyans<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">{206}</a></span> +and other sectaries put themselves above their system, not below it; and +though they may in bodily position "sit under" their preacher, yet in +the position of their souls and spirits, minds and judgments, they are +exalted high above him.</p> + +<p>But to return to the subject of our narrative. What a mystery is the +soul of man! Here was Charles, busy with Aristotle and Euripides, +Thucydides and Lucretius, yet all the while growing towards the Church, +"to the measure of the age of the fulness of Christ." His mother had +said to him that he could not escape his destiny; it was true, though it +was to be fulfilled in a way which she, affectionate heart, could not +compass, did not dream of. He could not escape the destiny of being one +of the elect of God; he could not escape that destiny which the grace of +his Redeemer had stamped on his soul in baptism, which his good angel +had seen written there, and had done his zealous part to keep inviolate +and bright, which his own co-operation with the influences of Heaven had +confirmed and secured. He could not escape the destiny, in due time, in +God's time—though it might be long, though angels might be anxious, +though the Church might plead as if defrauded of her promised increase +of a stranger, yet a son; yet come it must, it was written in Heaven, +and the slow wheels of time each hour brought it nearer—he could not +ultimately escape his destiny of becoming a Catholic. And even before +that blessed hour, as an opening flower scatters sweets, so the strange +unknown odour, pleasing to some, odious to others, went abroad from him +upon the winds, and made them marvel what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">{207}</a></span> could be near them, and make +them look curiously and anxiously at him, while he was unconscious of +his own condition. Let us be patient with him, as his Maker is patient, +and bear that he should do a work slowly which he will do well.</p> + +<p>Alas! while Charles had been growing in one direction, Sheffield had +been growing in another; and what that growth had been will appear from +a conversation which took place between the two friends, and which shall +be related in the following chapter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">{208}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_VII" id="two_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Carlton</span> had opened the small church he was serving for Saints'-day +services during the Long Vacation; and not being in the way to have any +congregation, and the church at Horsley being closed except on Sundays, +he had asked his two pupils to help him in this matter, by walking over +with him on St. Matthew's day, which, as the season was fine, and the +walk far from a dull one, they were very glad to do. When church was +over Carlton had to attend a sick call which lay still farther from +Horsley, and the two young men walked back together.</p> + +<p>"I did not know that Carlton was so much of a party man," said +Sheffield; "did not his reading the Athanasian Creed strike you?"</p> + +<p>"That's no mark of party, surely," answered Charles.</p> + +<p>"To read it on days like these, I think, <i>is</i> a mark of party; it's +going out of the way."</p> + +<p>Charles did not see how obeying in so plain a matter the clear direction +of the Prayer Book could be a party act.</p> + +<p>"Direction!" said Sheffield, "as if the question were not, is that +direction now binding? the sense, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">{209}</a></span> understanding of the Church of +this day determines its obligation."</p> + +<p>"The <i>prima facie</i> view of the matter," said Charles, "is, that they who +do but follow what the Prayer Book enjoins are of all people farthest +from being a party."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Sheffield; "rigid adherence to old customs surely may +be the badge of a party. Now consider; ten years ago, before the study +of Church-history was revived, neither Arianism nor Athanasianism were +thought of at all, or, if thought of, they were considered as questions +of words, at least as held by most minds—one as good as the other."</p> + +<p>"I should say so, too, in one sense," said Charles, "that is, I should +hope that numbers of persons, for instance, the unlearned, who were in +Arian communities spoke Arian language, and yet did not mean it. I think +I have heard that some ancient missionary of the Goths or Huns was an +Arian."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will speak more precisely," said Sheffield: "an Oxford man, +some ten years since, was going to publish a history of the Nicene +Council, and the bookseller proposed to him to prefix an engraving of +St. Athanasius, which he had found in some old volume. He was strongly +dissuaded from doing so by a brother clergyman, not from any feeling of +his own, but because 'Athanasius was a very unpopular name among us.'"</p> + +<p>"One swallow does not make a spring," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"This clergyman," continued Sheffield, "was a friend of the most +High-Church writers of the day."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Reding, "there has always been a heterodox school in +our Church—I know that well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">{210}</a></span> enough—but it never has been powerful. +Your lax friend was one of them."</p> + +<p>"I believe not, indeed," answered Sheffield; "he lived out of +controversy, was a literary, accomplished person, and a man of piety to +boot. He did not express any feeling of his own; he did but witness to a +fact, that the name of Athanasius was unpopular."</p> + +<p>"So little was known about history," said Charles, "this is not +surprising. St. Athanasius, you know, did not write the Creed called +after him. It is possible to think him intemperate, without thinking the +Creed wrong."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, again; there's Beatson, Divinity Professor; no one will +call him in any sense a party man; he was put in by the Tories, and +never has committed himself to any liberal theories in theology. Now, a +man who attended his private lectures assures me that he told the men, +'D'ye see,' said he, 'I take it, that the old Church-of-England mode of +handling the Creed went out with Bull. After Locke wrote, the old +orthodox phraseology came into disrepute.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps he meant," said Charles, "that learning died away, which +was the case. The old theological language is plainly a learned +language; when fathers and schoolmen were not read, of course it would +be in abeyance; when they were read again, it has revived."</p> + +<p>"No, no," answered Sheffield, "he said much more on another occasion. +Speaking of Creeds, and the like, 'I hold,' he said, 'that the majority +of the educated laity of our Church are Sabellians.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">{211}</a></span></p> + +<p>Charles was silent, and hardly knew what reply to make. Sheffield went +on: "I was present some years ago, when I was quite a boy, when a sort +of tutor of mine was talking to one of the most learned and orthodox +divines of the day, a man whose name has never been associated with +party, and the near relation and connexion of high dignitaries, about a +plan of his own for writing a history of the Councils. This good and +able man listened with politeness, applauded the project; then added, in +a laughing way, 'You know you have chosen just the dullest subject in +Church-history. Now the Councils begin with the Nicene Creed, and +embrace nearly all doctrinal subjects whatever.'"</p> + +<p>"My dear Sheffield," said Charles, "you have fallen in with a particular +set or party of men yourself; very respectable, good men, I don't doubt, +but no fair specimens of the whole Church."</p> + +<p>"I don't bring them as authorities," answered Sheffield, "but as +witnesses."</p> + +<p>"Still," said Charles, "I know perfectly well, that there was a +controversy at the end of the last century between Bishop Horsley and +others, in which he brought out distinctly one part at least of the +Athanasian doctrine."</p> + +<p>"His controversy was not a defence of the Athanasian Creed, I know +well," said Sheffield; "for the subject came into Upton's +Article-lecture; it was with Priestley; but, whatever it was, divines +would only think it all very fine, just as his 'Sermons on Prophecy.' It +is another question whether they would recognize the worth either of the +one or of the other. They receive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">{212}</a></span> the scholastic terms about the +Trinity just as they receive the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist. +When Horsley says the latter, or something of the kind, good old +clergymen say, 'Certainly, certainly, oh yes, it's the old +Church-of-England doctrine,' thinking it right, indeed, to be +maintained, but not caring themselves to maintain it, or at most +professing it just when mentioned, but not really thinking about it from +one year's end to the other. And so with regard to the doctrine of the +Trinity, they say, 'the great Horsley,' 'the powerful Horsley;' they +don't indeed dispute his doctrine, but they don't care about it; they +look on him as a doughty champion, armed <i>cap-à-pie</i>, who has put down +dissent, who has cut off the head of some impudent non-protectionist, or +insane chartist, or spouter in a vestry, who, under cover of theology, +had run a tilt against tithes and church-rates."</p> + +<p>"I can't think so badly of our present divines," said Charles; "I know +that in this very place there are various orthodox writers, whom no one +would call party men."</p> + +<p>"Stop," said Sheffield, "understand me, I was not speaking <i>against</i> +them. I was but saying that these anti-Athanasian views were not +unfrequent. I have been in the way of hearing a good deal on the subject +at my private tutor's, and have kept my eyes about me since I have been +here. The Bishop of Derby was a friend of Sheen's, my private tutor, and +got his promotion when I was with the latter; and Sheen told me that he +wrote to him on that occasion, 'What shall I read? I don't know anything +of theology.' I rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">{213}</a></span> think he was recommended, or proposed to read +Scott's Bible."</p> + +<p>"It's easy to bring instances," said Charles, "when you have all your +own way; what you say is evidently all an <i>ex-parte</i> statement."</p> + +<p>"Take again Shipton, who died lately," continued Sheffield; "what a high +position he held in the Church; yet it is perfectly well known that he +thought it a mistake to use the word 'Person' in the doctrine of the +Trinity. What makes this stranger is, that he was so very severe on +clergymen (Tractarians, for instance) who evade the sense of the +Articles. Now he was a singularly honest, straightforward man; he +despised money; he cared nothing for public opinion; yet he was a +Sabellian. Would he have eaten the bread of the Church, as it is called, +for a day, unless he had felt that his opinions were not inconsistent +with his profession as Dean of Bath, and Prebendary of Dorchester? Is it +not plain that he considered the practice of the Church to have +modified, to have re-interpreted its documents?"</p> + +<p>"Why," said Charles, "the practice of the Church cannot make black +white; or, if a sentence means yes, make it mean no. I won't deny that +words are often vague and uncertain in their sense, and frequently need +a comment, so that the teaching of the day has great influence in +determining their sense; but the question is, whether the +counter-teaching of every dean, every prebendary, every clergyman, every +bishop in the whole Church, could make the Athanasian Creed Sabellian; I +think not."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">{214}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly not," answered Sheffield; "but the clergymen I speak of +simply say that they are not bound to the details of the Creed, only to +the great outline that there is <i>a</i> Trinity."</p> + +<p>"Great outline!" said Charles, "great stuff! an Unitarian would not deny +that. He, of course, believes in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; though he +thinks the Son a creature, and the Spirit an influence."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't deny," said Sheffield, "that if Dean Shipton was a sound +member of the Church, Dr. Priestley might have been also. But my doubt +is, whether, if the Tractarian school had not risen, Priestley might not +have been, had he lived to this time, I will not say a positively sound +member, but sound enough for preferment."</p> + +<p>"<i>If</i> the Tractarian school had not risen! that is but saying if our +Church was other than it is. What is that school but a birth, an +offspring of the Church? and if the Church had not given birth to one +party of men for its defence, it would have given birth to another."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Sheffield, "I assure you the old school of doctrine was +all but run out when they began; and I declare I wish they had let +things alone. There was the doctrine of the Apostolical Succession; a +few good old men were its sole remaining professors in the Church; and a +great ecclesiastical personage, on one occasion, quite scoffed at their +persisting to hold it. He maintained the doctrine went out with the +non-jurors. 'You are so few,' he said, 'that we can count you.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">{215}</a></span></p> + +<p>Charles was not pleased with the subject, on various accounts. He did +not like what seemed to him an attack of Sheffield's upon the Church of +England; and, besides, he began to feel uncomfortable misgivings and +doubts whether that attack was not well founded, to which he did not +like to be exposed. Accordingly he kept silence, and, after a short +interval, attempted to change the subject; but Sheffield's hand was in, +and he would not be balked; so he presently began again. "I have been +speaking," he said, "of the liberal section of our Church. There are +four parties in the Church. Of these the old Tory, or country party, +which is out-and-out the largest, has no opinion at all, but merely +takes up the theology or no-theology of the day, and cannot properly be +said to 'hold' what the Creed calls 'the Catholic faith.' It does not +deny it; it may not knowingly disbelieve it; but it gives no signs of +actually holding it, beyond the fact that it treats it with respect. I +will venture to say, that not a country parson of them all, from year's +end to year's end, makes once a year what Catholics call 'an act of +faith' in that special and very distinctive mystery contained in the +clauses of the Athanasian Creed."</p> + +<p>Then, seeing Charles looked rather hurt, he added, "I am not speaking of +any particular clergyman here or there, but of the great majority of +them. After the Tory party comes the Liberal; which also dislikes the +Athanasian Creed, as I have said. Thirdly, as to the Evangelical; I know +you have one of the Nos. of the 'Tracts for the Times' about objective +faith. Now that tract seems to prove that the Evangelical party<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">{216}</a></span> is +implicitly Sabellian, and is tending to avow that belief. This too has +been already the actual course of Evangelical doctrine both on the +Continent and in America. The Protestants of Geneva, Holland, Ulster, +and Boston have all, I believe, become Unitarians, or the like. Dr. Adam +Clarke too, the celebrated Wesleyan, held the distinguishing Sabellian +tenet, as Doddridge is said to have done before him. All this +considered, I do think I have made out a good case for my original +assertion, that at this time of day it is a party thing to go out of the +way to read the Athanasian Creed."</p> + +<p>"I don't agree with you at all," said Charles; "you say a great deal +more than you have a warrant to do, and draw sweeping conclusions from +slender premisses. This, at least, is what it seems to me. I wish too +you would not so speak of 'making out a case.' It is as if these things +were mere topics for disputation. And I don't like your taking the wrong +side; you are rather fond of doing so."</p> + +<p>"Reding," answered Sheffield, "I speak what I think, and ever will do +so; I will be no party man. I don't attempt, like Vincent, to unite +opposites. He is of all parties, I am of none. I think I see pretty well +the hollowness of all."</p> + +<p>"O my dear Sheffield," cried Charles, in distress, "think what you are +saying; you don't mean what you say. You are speaking as if you thought +that belief in the Athanasian Creed was a mere party opinion."</p> + +<p>Sheffield first was silent; then he said, "Well, I beg<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">{217}</a></span> your pardon, if +I have said anything to annoy you, or have expressed myself +intemperately. But surely one has no need to believe what so many people +either disbelieve or disregard."</p> + +<p>The subject then dropped; and presently Carlton overtook them on the +farmer's pony, which he had borrowed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">{218}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_VIII" id="two_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Reding</span> had for near two years put aside his doubts about the Articles; +but it was like putting off the payment of a bill—a respite, not a +deliverance. The two conversations which we have been recording, +bringing him to issue on most important subjects first with one, then +with another, of two intimate friends, who were bound by the Articles as +well as he, uncomfortably reminded him of his debt to the University and +Church; and the nearer approach of his examination and degree inflicted +on him the thought that the time was coming when he must be prepared to +discharge it.</p> + +<p>One day, when he was strolling out with Carlton, toward the end of the +Vacation, he had been led to speak of the number of religious opinions +and parties in Oxford, which had so many bad effects, making so many +talk, so many criticise, and not a few perhaps doubt about truth +altogether. Then he said that, evil as it was in a place of education, +yet he feared it was unavoidable, if Carlton's doctrine about parties +were correct; for if there was a place where differences of religious +opinions would show themselves, it would be in a university.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">{219}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am far from denying it," said Carlton; "but all systems have their +defects; no polity, no theology, no ritual is perfect. One only came +directly and simply from Heaven, the Jewish; and even that was removed +because of its unprofitableness. This is no derogation from the +perfection of Divine Revelation, for it arises from the subject-matter +on and through which it operates." There was a pause; then Carlton went +on: "It is the fault of most young thinkers to be impatient, if they do +not find perfection in everything; they are 'new brooms.'" Another +pause; he went on again: "What form of religion is <i>less</i> objectionable +than ours? You <i>see</i> the inconveniences of your own system, for you +experience them; you have not felt, and cannot know, those of others."</p> + +<p>Charles was still silent, and went on plucking and chewing leaves from +the shrubs and bushes through which their path winded. At length he +said, "<i>I</i> should not like to say it to any one but you, Carlton, but, +do you know, I was very uncomfortable about the Articles, going on for +two years since; I really could not understand them, and their history +makes matters worse. I put the subject from me altogether; but now that +my examination and degree are coming on, I must take it up again."</p> + +<p>"You must have been put into the Article-lecture early," said Carlton.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps I was not up to the subject," answered Charles.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean that," said Carlton; "but as to the thing itself, my dear +fellow, it happens every day, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">{220}</a></span> especially to thoughtful people like +yourself. It should not annoy you."</p> + +<p>"But my fidget is," said Charles, "lest my difficulties should return, +and I should not be able to remove them."</p> + +<p>"You should take all these things calmly," said Carlton; "all things, as +I have said, have their difficulties. If you wait till everything is as +it should be or might be conceivably, you will do nothing, and will lose +life. The moral and social world is not an open country; it is already +marked and mapped out; it has its roads. You can't go across country; if +you attempt a steeple-chase, you will break your neck for your pains. +Forms of religion are facts; they have each their history. They existed +before you were born, and will survive you. You must choose, you cannot +make."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Reding, "I can't make a religion, nor can I perhaps find +one better than my own. I don't want to do so; but this is not my +difficulty. Take your own image. I am jogging along my own old road, and +lo, a high turnpike, fast locked; and my poor pony can't clear it. I +don't complain; but there's the fact, or at least may be."</p> + +<p>"The pony must," answered Carlton; "or if not, there must be some way +about; else what is the good of a road? In religion all roads have their +obstacles; one has a strong gate across it, another goes through a bog. +Is no one to go on? Is religion to be at a deadlock? Is Christianity to +die out? Where else will you go? Not surely to Methodism, or +Plymouth-brotherism.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">{221}</a></span> As to the Romish Church, I suspect it has more +difficulties than we have. You <i>must</i> sacrifice your private judgment."</p> + +<p>"All this is very good," answered Charles; "but what is very expedient +still may be very impossible. The finest words about the necessity of +getting home before nightfall will not enable my poor little pony to +take the gate."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Carlton; "but if you had a command from a +benevolent Prince, your own Sovereign and Benefactor, to go along the +road steadily till evening, and he would meet you at the end of your +journey, you would be quite sure that he who had appointed the end had +also assigned the means. And, in the difficulty in question, you ought +to look out for some mode of opening the gate, or some gap in the hedge, +or some parallel cut, some way or other, which would enable you to turn +the difficulty."</p> + +<p>Charles said that somehow he did not like this mode of arguing; it +seemed dangerous; he did not see whither it went, where it ended. +Presently he said, abruptly, "Why do you think there are more +difficulties in the Church of Rome?"</p> + +<p>"Clearly there are," answered Carlton; "if the Articles are a crust, is +not Pope Pius's Creed a bone?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know Pope Pius's Creed," said Charles; "I know very little +about the state of the case, certainly. What does it say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it includes transubstantiation, purgatory, saint-worship, and the +rest," said Carlton; "I suppose you could not quite subscribe these?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">{222}</a></span></p> + +<p>"It depends," answered Charles slowly, "on this—on what authority they +came to me." He stopped, and then went on: "Of course I could, if they +came to me on the same authority as the doctrine of the Blessed Trinity +comes. Now, the Articles come on no authority; they are the views of +persons in the 16th century; and, again, it is not clear how far they +are, or are not, modified by the unauthoritative views of the 19th. I am +obliged, then, to exercise my own judgment; and I candidly declare to +you, that my judgment is unequal to so great a task. At least, this is +what troubles me, whenever the subject rises in my mind; for I have put +it from me."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Carlton, "take them on <i>faith</i>."</p> + +<p>"You mean, I suppose," said Charles, "that I must consider our Church +<i>infallible</i>."</p> + +<p>Carlton felt the difficulty; he answered, "No, but you must act <i>as if</i> +it were infallible, from a sense of duty."</p> + +<p>Charles smiled; then he looked grave; he stood still, and his eyes fell. +"If I <i>am</i> to make a Church infallible," he said, "if I <i>must</i> give up +private judgment, if I <i>must</i> act on faith, there <i>is</i> a Church which +has a greater claim on us all than the Church of England."</p> + +<p>"My dear Reding," said Carlton, with some emotion, "where did you get +these notions?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," answered Charles; "somebody has said that they were in +the air. I have talked to no one, except one or two arguments I had with +different persons in my first year. I have driven the subject from me; +but when I once begin, you see it will out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">{223}</a></span></p> + +<p>They walked on awhile in silence. "Do you really mean to say," asked +Carlton at length, "that it is so difficult to understand and receive +the Articles? To me they are quite clear enough, and speak the language +of common sense."</p> + +<p>"Well, they seem to me," said Reding, "sometimes inconsistent with +themselves, sometimes with the Prayer Book; so that I am suspicious of +them; I don't know <i>what</i> I am signing when I sign, yet I ought to sign +<i>ex-animo</i>. A blind submission I could make; I cannot make a blind +declaration."</p> + +<p>"Give me some instances," said Carlton.</p> + +<p>"For example," said Charles, "they distinctly receive the Lutheran +doctrine of justification by faith only, which the Prayer Book virtually +opposes in every one of its Offices. They refer to the Homilies as +authority, yet the Homilies speak of the books of the Apocrypha as +inspired, which the Articles implicitly deny. The Articles about +Ordination are in their spirit contrary to the Ordination Service. One +Article on the Sacraments speaks the doctrine of Melancthon, another +that of Calvin. One Article speaks of the Church's authority in +controversies of faith, yet another makes Scripture the ultimate appeal. +These are what occur to me at the moment."</p> + +<p>"Surely, many of these are but verbal difficulties, at the very first +glance," said Carlton, "and all may be surmounted with a little care."</p> + +<p>"On the other hand, it has struck me," continued Charles, "that the +Church of Rome is undeniably consistent in her formularies; this is the +very charge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">{224}</a></span> some of our writers make upon her, that she is so +systematic. It may be a hard, iron system, but it is consistent."</p> + +<p>Carlton did not wish to interrupt him, thinking it best to hear his +whole difficulty; so Charles proceeded: "When a system is consistent, at +least it does not condemn itself. Consistency is not truth, but truth is +consistency. Now, I am not a fit judge whether or not a certain system +is true, but I may be quite a judge whether it is consistent with +itself. When an oracle equivocates it carries with it its own +condemnation. I almost think there is something in Scripture on this +subject, comparing in this respect the pagan and the inspired +prophecies. And this has struck me, too, that St. Paul gives this very +account of a heretic, that he is 'condemned of himself,' bearing his own +condemnation on his face. Moreover, I was once in the company of +Freeborn (I don't know if you are acquainted with him) and others of the +Evangelical party, and they showed plainly, if they were to be trusted, +that Luther and Melancthon did not agree together on the prime point of +justification by faith; a circumstance which had not come into the +Article-lecture. Also I have read somewhere, or heard in some sermon, +that the ancient heretics always were inconsistent, never could state +plainly their meaning, much less agree together; and thus, whether they +would or no, could not help giving to the simple a warning of their true +character, as if by their rattle."</p> + +<p>Charles stopped; presently he continued: "This too has struck me; that +either there is no prophet of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">{225}</a></span> truth on earth, or the Church of Rome +is that prophet. That there is a prophet still, or apostle, or +messenger, or teacher, or whatever he is to be called, seems evident by +our believing in a visible Church. Now common sense tells us what a +messenger from God must be; first, he must not contradict himself, as I +have just been saying. Again, a prophet of God can allow of no rival, +but denounces all who make a separate claim, as the prophets do in +Scripture. Now, it is impossible to say whether our Church acknowledges +or not Lutheranism in Germany, Calvinism in Switzerland, the Nestorian +and Monophysite bodies in the East. Nor does it clearly tell us what +view it takes of the Church of Rome. The only place where it recognizes +its existence is in the Homilies, and there it speaks of it as +Antichrist. Nor has the Greek Church any intelligible position in +Anglican doctrine. On the other hand, the Church of Rome has this <i>prima +facie</i> mark of a prophet, that, like a prophet in Scripture, it admits +no rival, and anathematizes all doctrine counter to its own. There's +another thing: a prophet of God is of course at home with his message; +he is not helpless and do-nothing in the midst of errors and in the war +of opinions. He knows what has been given him to declare, how far it +extends; he can act as an umpire; he is equal to emergencies. This again +tells in favour of the Church of Rome. As age after age comes she is +ever on the alert, questions every new comer, sounds the note of alarm, +hews down strange doctrine, claims and locates and perfects what is new +and true. The Church of Rome inspires me with confidence; I feel I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">{226}</a></span> can +trust her. It is another thing whether she is true; I am not pretending +now to decide that. But I do not feel the like trust in our own Church. +I love her more than I trust her. She leaves me without faith. Now you +see the state of my mind." He fetched a deep, sharp sigh, as if he had +got a load off him.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Carlton, when he had stopped, "this is all very pretty +theory; whether it holds in matter of fact, is another question. We have +been accustomed hitherto to think Chillingworth right, when he talks of +popes against popes, councils against councils, and so on. Certainly you +will not be allowed by Protestant controversialists to assume this +perfect consistency in Romish doctrine. The truth is, you have read very +little; and you judge of truth, not by facts, but by notions; I mean, +you think it enough if a notion hangs together; though you disavow it, +still, in matter of fact, consistency <i>is</i> truth to you. Whether facts +answer to theories you cannot tell, and you don't inquire. Now I am not +well read in the subject, but I know enough to be sure that Romanists +will have more work to prove their consistency than you anticipate. For +instance, they appeal to the Fathers, yet put the Pope above them; they +maintain the infallibility of the Church, and prove it by Scripture, and +then they prove Scripture by the Church. They think a General Council +infallible, <i>when</i>, but not <i>before</i>, the Pope has ratified it; +Bellarmine, I think, gives a list of General Councils which have erred. +And I never have been able to make out the Romish doctrine of +Indulgences."</p> + +<p>Charles thought over this; then he said, "Perhaps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">{227}</a></span> the case is as you +say, that I ought to know the matter of fact more exactly before +attempting to form a judgment on the subject; but, my dear Carlton, I +protest to you, and you may think with what distress I say it, that if +the Church of Rome is as ambiguous as our own Church, I shall be in the +way to become a sceptic, on the very ground that I shall have no +competent authority to tell me what to believe. The Ethiopian said, 'How +can I know, unless some man do teach me?' and St. Paul says, 'Faith +cometh by hearing.' If no one claims my faith, how can I exercise it? At +least I shall run the risk of becoming a Latitudinarian; for if I go by +Scripture only, certainly there is no creed given us in Scripture."</p> + +<p>"Our business," said Carlton, "is to make the best of things, not the +worst. Do keep this in mind; be on your guard against a strained and +morbid view of things. Be cheerful, be natural, and all will be easy."</p> + +<p>"You are always kind and considerate," said Charles; "but, after all—I +wish I could make you see it—you have not a word to say by way of +meeting my original difficulty of subscription. How am I to leap over +the wall? It's nothing to the purpose that other communions have their +walls also."</p> + +<p>They now neared home, and concluded their walk in silence, each being +fully occupied with the thoughts which the conversation had suggested.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">{228}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_IX" id="two_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> Vacation passed away silently and happily. Day succeeded day in +quiet routine employments, bringing insensible but sure accessions to +the stock of knowledge and to the intellectual proficiency of both our +students. Historians and orators were read for a last time, and laid +aside; sciences were digested; commentaries were run through; and +analyses and abstracts completed. It was emphatically a silent toil. +While others might be steaming from London to Bombay or the Havannah, +and months in the retrospect might look like years, with Reding and +Sheffield the week had scarcely begun when it was found to be ending; +and when October came, and they saw their Oxford friends again, at first +they thought they had a good deal to say to them, but when they tried, +they found it did but concern minute points of their own reading and +personal matters; and they were reduced to silence with the wish to +speak.</p> + +<p>The season had changed, and reminded them that Horsley was a place for +summer sojourn, not a dwelling. There were heavy raw fogs hanging about +the hills, and storms of wind and rain. The grass no longer afforded +them a seat; and when they betook themselves indoors<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">{229}</a></span> it was discovered +that the doors and windows did not shut close, and that the chimney +smoked. Then came those fruits, the funeral feast of the year, +mulberries and walnuts; the tasteless, juiceless walnut; the dark +mulberry, juicy but severe, and mouldy withal, as gathered not from the +tree, but from the damp earth. And thus that green spot itself weaned +them from the love of it. Charles looked around him, and rose to depart +as a <i>conviva satur</i>. "<i>Edisti satis, tempus abire</i>" seemed written upon +all. The swallows had taken leave; the leaves were paling; the light +broke late, and failed soon. The hopes of spring, the peace and calm of +summer, had given place to the sad realities of autumn. He was hurrying +to the world, who had been up on the mount; he had lived without jars, +without distractions, without disappointments; and he was now to take +them as his portion. For he was but a child of Adam; Horsley had been +but a respite; and he had vividly presented to his memory the sad +reverse which came upon him two years before—what a happy summer—what +a forlorn autumn! With these thoughts, he put up his books and papers, +and turned his face towards St. Saviour's.</p> + +<p>Oxford, too, was not quite what it had been to him; the freshness of his +admiration for it was over; he now saw defects where at first all was +excellent and good; the romance of places and persons had passed away. +And there were changes too: of his contemporaries some had already taken +their degrees and left; others were reading in the country; others had +gone off to other Colleges on Fellowships. A host of younger<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">{230}</a></span> faces had +sprung up in hall and chapel, and he hardly knew their names. Rooms +which formerly had been his familiar lounge were now tenanted by +strangers, who claimed to have that right in them which, to his +imagination, could only attach to those who had possessed them when he +himself came into residence. The College seemed to have deteriorated; +there was a rowing set, which had not been there before, a number of +boys, and a large proportion of snobs.</p> + +<p>But, what was a real trouble to Charles, it got clearer and clearer to +his apprehension that his intimacy with Sheffield was not quite what it +had been. They had, indeed, passed the Vacation together, and saw of +each other more than ever: but their sympathies in each other were not +as strong, they had not the same likings and dislikings; in short, they +had not such congenial minds as they fancied when they were freshmen. +There was not so much heart in their conversations, and they more easily +endured to miss each other's company. They were both reading for +honours—reading hard; but Sheffield's whole heart was in his work, and +religion was but a secondary matter to him. He had no doubts, +difficulties, anxieties, sorrows, which much affected him. It was not +the certainty of faith which made a sunshine to his soul, and dried up +the mists of human weakness; rather, he had no perceptible need within +him of that vision of the Unseen which is the Christian's life. He was +unblemished in his character, exemplary in his conduct; but he was +content with what the perishable world gave him. Charles's +characteristic, perhaps above anything else, was an habitual sense of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">{231}</a></span> +the Divine Presence; a sense which, of course, did not insure +uninterrupted conformity of thought and deed to itself, but still there +it was—the pillar of the cloud before him and guiding him. He felt +himself to be God's creature, and responsible to Him—God's possession, +not his own. He had a great wish to succeed in the schools; a thrill +came over him when he thought of it; but ambition was not his life; he +could have reconciled himself in a few minutes to failure. Thus +disposed, the only subjects on which the two friends freely talked +together were connected with their common studies. They read together, +examined each other, used and corrected each other's papers, and solved +each other's difficulties. Perhaps it scarcely came home to Sheffield, +sharp as he was, that there was any flagging of their intimacy. +Religious controversy had been the food of his active intellect when it +was novel; now it had lost its interest, and his books took its place. +But it was far different with Charles; he had felt interest in religious +questions for their own sake; and when he had deprived himself of the +pursuit of them it had been a self-denial. Now, then, when they seemed +forced on him again, Sheffield could not help him, where he most wanted +the assistance of a friend.</p> + +<p>A still more tangible trial was coming on him. The reader has to be told +that there was at that time a system of espionage prosecuted by various +well-meaning men, who thought it would be doing the University a service +to point out such of its junior members as were what is called +"papistically inclined." They did not perceive the danger such a course +involved of disposing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">{232}</a></span> young men towards Catholicism, by attaching to +them the bad report of it, and of forcing them farther by inflicting on +them the inconsistencies of their position. Ideas which would have lain +dormant or dwindled away in their minds were thus fixed, defined, +located within them; and the fear of the world's censure no longer +served to deter, when it had been actually incurred. When Charles +attended the tea-party at Freeborn's he was on his trial; he was +introduced not only into a school, but into an inquisition; and since he +did not promise to be a subject for spiritual impression, he was +forthwith a subject for spiritual censure. He became a marked man in the +circles of Capel Hall and St. Mark's. His acquaintance with Willis; the +questions he had asked at the Article-lecture; stray remarks at +wine-parties—were treasured up, and strengthened the case against him. +One time, on coming into his rooms, he found Freeborn, who had entered +to pay him a call, prying into his books. A volume of sermons, of the +school of the day, borrowed of a friend for the sake of illustrating +Aristotle, lay on his table; and in his bookshelves one of the more +philosophical of the "Tracts for the Times" was stuck in between a +Hermann <i>De Metris</i> and a Thucydides. Another day his bedroom door was +open, and No. 2 of the tea-party saw one of Overbeck's sacred prints +pinned up against the wall.</p> + +<p>Facts like these were, in most cases, delated to the Head of the House +to which a young man belonged; who, as a vigilant guardian of the purity +of his undergraduates' Protestantism, received the information with +thankfulness, and perhaps asked the informer to dinner.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">{233}</a></span> It cannot be +denied that in some cases this course of action succeeded in frightening +and sobering the parties towards whom it was directed. White was thus +reclaimed to be a devoted son and useful minister of the Church of +England; but it was a kill-or-cure remedy, and not likely to answer with +the more noble or the more able minds. What effect it had upon Charles, +or whether any, must be determined by the sequel; here it will suffice +to relate interviews which took place between him and the Principal and +Vice-Principal of his College in consequence of it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">{234}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_X" id="two_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">When</span> Reding presented himself to the Vice-Principal, the Rev. Joshua +Jennings, to ask for leave to reside in lodgings for the two terms +previous to his examination, he was met with a courteous but decided +refusal. It took him altogether by surprise; he had considered the +request as a mere matter of form. He sat half a minute silent, and then +rose to take his departure. The colour came to his cheek; it was a +repulse inflicted only on idle men who could not be trusted beyond the +eye of the Dean of the College.</p> + +<p>The Vice-Principal seemed to expect him to ask the reason of his +proceeding; as Charles, in his confusion, did not seem likely to do so, +he condescended to open the conversation. It was not meant as any +reflection, he said, on Mr. Reding's moral conduct; he had ever been a +well-conducted young man, and had quite carried out the character with +which he had come from school; but there were duties to be observed +towards the community, and its undergraduate portion must be protected +from the contagion of principles which were too rife at the moment. +Charles was, if possible, still more surprised, and suggested that there +must be some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">{235}</a></span> misunderstanding if he had been represented to the +Vice-Principal as connected with any so-called party in the place. "You +don't mean to deny that there <i>is</i> a party, Mr. Reding," answered the +College authority, "by that form of expression?" He was a lean, pale +person, with a large hook-nose and spectacles; and seemed, though a +liberal in creed, to be really a nursling of that early age when +Anabaptists fed the fires of Smithfield. From his years, practised +talent, and position, he was well able to browbeat an unhappy juvenile +who incurred his displeasure; and, though he really was a kind-hearted +man at bottom, he not unfrequently misused his power. Charles did not +know how to answer his question; and on his silence it was repeated. At +length he said that really he was not in a condition to speak against +any one; and if he spoke of a so-called party, it was that he might not +seem disrespectful to some who might be better men than himself. Mr. +Vice was silent, but not from being satisfied.</p> + +<p>"What would <i>you</i> call a party, Mr. Reding?" he said at length; "what +would be your definition of it?"</p> + +<p>Charles paused to think; at last he said: "Persons who band together on +their own authority for the maintenance of views of their own."</p> + +<p>"And will you say that these gentlemen have not views of their own?" +asked Mr. Jennings.</p> + +<p>Charles assented.</p> + +<p>"What is your view of the Thirty-nine Articles?" said the Vice-Principal +abruptly.</p> + +<p>"<i>My</i> view!" thought Charles; "what can he mean? my <i>view</i> of the +Articles! like my opinion of things in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">{236}</a></span> general. Does he mean my 'view' +whether they are English or Latin, long or short, good or bad, expedient +or not, Catholic or not, Calvinistic or Erastian?"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Jennings kept steadily regarding him, and Charles got more and +more confused. "I think," he said, making a desperate snatch at +authoritative words, "I think that the Articles 'contain a godly and +wholesome doctrine, and necessary for these times.'"</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> is the Second Book of Homilies, Mr. Reding, not the Articles. +Besides, I want your own opinion on the subject." He proceeded, after a +pause: "What is justification?"</p> + +<p>"Justification," ... said Charles, repeating the word, and thinking; +then, in the words of the Article, he went on: "We are accounted +righteous before God, but only for the merit of our Lord Jesus Christ, +by faith, and not by our own works and deservings."</p> + +<p>"Right," said Jennings; "but you have not answered my question. What +<i>is</i> justification?"</p> + +<p>This was very hard, for it was one of Charles's puzzles what +justification was in itself, for the Articles do not define it any more +than faith. He answered to this effect, that the Articles did not define +it. The Vice-Principal looked dissatisfied.</p> + +<p>"Can General Councils err?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Charles. This was right.</p> + +<p>"What do Romanists say about them?"</p> + +<p>"They think they err, too." This was all wrong.</p> + +<p>"No," said Jennings, "they think them infallible."</p> + +<p>Charles was silent; Jennings tried to force his decision upon him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">{237}</a></span></p> + +<p>At length Charles said that "Only some General Councils were admitted as +infallible by the Romanists, and he believed that Bellarmine gave a list +of General Councils which had erred."</p> + +<p>Another pause, and a gathering cloud on Jennings' brow.</p> + +<p>He returned to his former subject. "In what sense do you understand the +Articles, Mr. Reding?" he asked. That was more than Charles could tell; +he wished very much to know the right sense of them; so he beat about +for the <i>received</i> answer.</p> + +<p>"In the sense of Scripture," he said. This was true, but nugatory.</p> + +<p>"Rather," said Jennings, "you understand Scripture in the sense of the +Articles."</p> + +<p>Charles assented for peace-sake. But his concession availed not; the +Vice-Principal pursued his advantage.</p> + +<p>"They must not interpret each other, Mr. Reding, else you revolve in a +circle. Let me repeat my question. In what sense do you interpret the +Articles?"</p> + +<p>"I wish to take them," Reding answered, "in the general and received +sense of our Church, as all our divines and present Bishops take them."</p> + +<p>The Vice-Principal looked pleased. Charles could not help being candid, +and said in a lower tone, as if words of course, "That is, on faith."</p> + +<p>This put all wrong again. Jennings would not allow this; it was a blind, +Popish reliance; it was very well, when he first came to the University, +before he had read the Articles, to take them on trust; but a young man +who had had the advantages of Mr. Reding, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">{238}</a></span> had been three years at +St. Saviour's College, and had attended the Article-lectures, ought to +hold the received view, not only as being received, but as his own, with +a free intellectual assent. He went on to ask him by what texts he +proved the Protestant doctrine of justification. Charles gave two or +three of the usual passages with such success, that the Vice-Principal +was secretly beginning to relent, when, unhappily, on asking a last +question as a matter of course, he received an answer which confirmed +all his former surmises.</p> + +<p>"What is our Church's doctrine concerning the intercession of Saints?"</p> + +<p>Charles said that he did not recollect that it had expressed any opinion +on the subject. Jennings bade him think again; Charles thought in vain.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is your opinion of it, Mr. Reding?"</p> + +<p>Charles, believing it to be an open point, thought he should be safe in +imitating "our Church's" moderation. "There are different opinions on +the subject," he said: "some persons think they intercede for us, +others, that they do not. It is easy to go into extremes; perhaps better +to avoid such questions altogether; better to go by Scripture; the book +of Revelation speaks of the intercession of Saints, but does not +expressly say that they intercede for us," &c., &c.</p> + +<p>Jennings sat upright in his easy-chair, with indignation mounting into +his forehead. At length his face became like night. "<i>That</i> is your +opinion, Mr. Reding."</p> + +<p>Charles began to be frightened.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">{239}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Please to take up that Prayer Book and turn to the 22nd Article. Now +begin reading it."</p> + +<p>"The Romish doctrine," said Charles,—"the Romish doctrine concerning +purgatory, pardon, worshipping and adoration as well of images as of +relics, and also invocation of Saints"——</p> + +<p>"Stop there," said the Vice-Principal; "read those words again."</p> + +<p>"And also invocation of Saints."</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Reding."</p> + +<p>Charles was puzzled, thought he had made some blunder, could not find +it, and was silent.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Reding?"</p> + +<p>Charles at length said that he thought Mr. Jennings had spoken about +<i>intercession</i>.</p> + +<p>"So I did," he made answer.</p> + +<p>"And this," said Charles timidly, "speaks of <i>invocation</i>."</p> + +<p>Jennings gave a little start in his arm-chair, and slightly coloured. +"Eh?" he said; "give me the book." He slowly read the Article, and then +cast a cautious eye over the page before and after. There was no help +for it. He began again.</p> + +<p>"And so, Mr. Reding, you actually mean to shelter yourself by that +subtle distinction between invocation and intercession; as if Papists +did not invoke in order to gain the Saints' intercession, and as if the +Saints were not supposed by them to intercede in answer to invocation? +The terms are correlative. Intercession of Saints, instead of being an +extreme only, as you consider, is a Romish abomination. I am ashamed of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">{240}</a></span> +you, Mr. Reding; I am pained and hurt that a young man of your promise, +of good ability, and excellent morals, should be guilty of so gross an +evasion of the authoritative documents of our Church, such an outrage +upon common sense, so indecent a violation of the terms on which alone +he was allowed to place his name on the books of this society. I could +not have a clearer proof that your mind has been perverted—I fear I +must use a stronger term, debauched—by the sophistries and jesuistries +which unhappily have found entrance among us. Good morning, Mr. Reding."</p> + +<p>So it was a thing settled: Charles was to be sent home,—an endurable +banishment.</p> + +<p>Before he went down he paid a visit of form to the old Principal—a +worthy man in his generation, who before now had been a good parish +priest, had instructed the ignorant and fed the poor; but now in the end +of his days, falling on evil times, was permitted, for inscrutable +purposes, to give evidence of that evil puritanical leaven which was a +secret element of his religion. He had been kind to Charles hitherto, +which made his altered manner more distressing to him.</p> + +<p>"We had hoped," he said, "Mr. Reding, that so good a young man as you +once were would have gained a place on some foundation, and been settled +here, and been a useful man in his generation, sir; and a column, a +buttress of the Church of England, sir. Well, sir, here are my best +wishes for you, sir. When you come up for your Master's degree, sir—no, +I think it is your Bachelor's—which is it, Mr. Reding, are you yet a +Bachelor? oh, I see your gown."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">{241}</a></span></p> + +<p>Charles said he had not yet been into the schools.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, when you come up to be examined, I should say—to be +examined—we will hope that in the interval, reflection, and study, and +absence perhaps from dangerous companions, will have brought you to a +soberer state of mind, Mr. Reding."</p> + +<p>Charles was shocked at the language used about him. "Really, sir," he +said, "if you knew me better, you would feel that I am likely neither to +receive nor do harm by remaining here between this and Easter."</p> + +<p>"What! remain here, sir, with all the young men about?" asked Dr. +Bluett, with astonishment, "with all the young men about you, sir?"</p> + +<p>Charles really had not a word to say; he did not know himself in so +novel a position. "I cannot conceive, sir," he said, at last, "why I +should be unfit company for the gentlemen of the College."</p> + +<p>Dr. Bluett's jaw dropped, and his eyes assumed a hollow aspect. "You +will corrupt their minds, sir," he said,—"you will corrupt their +minds." Then he added, in a sepulchral tone, which came from the very +depths of his inside: "You will introduce them, sir, to some subtle +Jesuit—to some subtle Jesuit, Mr. Reding."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">{242}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XI" id="two_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Reding</span> was by this time settled in the neighbourhood of old friends +in Devonshire; and there Charles spent the winter and early spring with +her and his three sisters, the eldest of whom was two years older than +himself.</p> + +<p>"Come, shut your dull books, Charles," said Caroline, the youngest, a +girl of fourteen; "make way for the tea; I am sure you have read enough. +You sometimes don't speak a word for an hour together; at least, you +might tell us what you are reading about."</p> + +<p>"My dear Carry, you would not be much the wiser if I did," answered +Charles; "it is Greek history."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Caroline, "I know more than you think; I have read Goldsmith, +and good part of Rollin, besides Pope's Homer."</p> + +<p>"Capital!" said Charles; "well, I am reading about Pelopidas—who was +he?"</p> + +<p>"Pelopidas!" answered Caroline, "I ought to know. Oh, I recollect, he +had an ivory shoulder."</p> + +<p>"Well said, Carry; but I have not yet a distinct idea of him either. Was +he a statue, or flesh and blood, with this shoulder of his?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">{243}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, he was alive; somebody ate him, I think."</p> + +<p>"Well, was he a god or a man?" said Charles.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's a mistake of mine," said Caroline; "he was a goddess, the +ivory-footed—no, that was Thetis."</p> + +<p>"My dear Caroline," said her mother, "do not talk so at random; think +before you speak; you know better than this."</p> + +<p>"She has, ma'am," said Charles, "what Mr. Jennings would call 'a very +inaccurate mind.'"</p> + +<p>"I recollect perfectly now," said Caroline, "he was a friend of +Epaminondas."</p> + +<p>"When did he live?" asked Charles. Caroline was silent.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Carry," said Eliza, "don't you recollect the <i>memoria technica</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I never could learn it," said Caroline; "I hate it."</p> + +<p>"Nor can I," said Mary; "give me good native numbers; they are sweet and +kindly, like flowers in a bed; but I don't like your artificial +flower-pots."</p> + +<p>"But surely," said Charles, "a <i>memoria technica</i> makes you recollect a +great many dates which you otherwise could not?"</p> + +<p>"The crabbed names are more difficult even to pronounce than the numbers +to learn," said Caroline.</p> + +<p>"That's because you have very few dates to get up," said Charles; "but +common writing is a <i>memoria technica</i>."</p> + +<p>"That's beyond Caroline," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"What are words but artificial signs for ideas?" said Charles; "they are +more musical, but as arbitrary. There is no more reason why the sound +'hat' should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">{244}</a></span> mean the particular thing so called, which we put on our +heads, than why 'abul-distof' should stand for 1520."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear child," said Mrs. Reding, "how you run on! Don't be +paradoxical."</p> + +<p>"My dear mother," said Charles, coming round to the fire, "I don't want +to be paradoxical; it's only a generalization."</p> + +<p>"Keep it, then, for the schools, my dear; I dare say it will do you good +there," continued Mrs. Reding, while she continued her hemming; "poor +Caroline will be as much put to it in logic as in history."</p> + +<p>"I am in a dilemma," said Charles, as he seated himself on a little +stool at his mother's feet; "for Carry calls me stupid if I am silent, +and you call me paradoxical if I speak."</p> + +<p>"Good sense," said his mother, "is the golden mean."</p> + +<p>"And what is common sense?" said Charles.</p> + +<p>"The silver mean," said Eliza.</p> + +<p>"Well done," said Charles; "it is small change for every hour."</p> + +<p>"Rather," said Caroline, "it is the copper mean, for we want it, like +alms for the poor, to give away. People are always asking <i>me</i> for it. +If I can't tell who Isaac's father was, Mary says, 'O Carry, where's +your common sense?' If I am going out of doors, Eliza runs up, 'Carry,' +she cries, 'you haven't common sense; your shawl's all pinned awry.' And +when I ask mamma the shortest way across the fields to Dalton, she says, +'Use your common sense, my dear.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">{245}</a></span></p> + +<p>"No wonder you have so little of it, poor dear child," said Charles; "no +bank could stand such a run."</p> + +<p>"No such thing," said Mary; "it flows into her bank ten times as fast as +it comes out. She has plenty of it from us; and what she does with it no +one can make out; she either hoards or she speculates."</p> + +<p>"'Like the great ocean,'" said Charles, "'which receives the rivers, yet +is not full.'"</p> + +<p>"That's somewhere in Scripture," said Eliza.</p> + +<p>"In the 'Preacher,'" said Charles, and he continued the quotation; "'All +things are full of labour, man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied +with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.'"</p> + +<p>His mother sighed; "Take my cup, my love," she said; "no more."</p> + +<p>"I know why Charles is so fond of the 'Preacher,'" said Mary; "it's +because he's tired of reading; 'much study is a weariness to the flesh.' +I wish we could help you, dear Charles."</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, I really think you read too much," said his mother; "only +think how many hours you have been at it to-day. You are always up one +or two hours before the sun; and I don't think you have had your walk +to-day."</p> + +<p>"It's so dismal walking alone, my dear mother; and as to walking with +you and my sisters, it's pleasant enough, but no exercise."</p> + +<p>"But, Charlie," said Mary, "that's absurd of you; these nice sunny days, +which you could not expect at this season, are just the time for long +walks. Why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">{246}</a></span> don't you resolve to make straight for the plantations, or +to mount Hart Hill, or go right through Dun Wood and back?"</p> + +<p>"Because all woods are dun and dingy just now, Mary, and not green. It's +quite melancholy to see them."</p> + +<p>"Just the finest time of the year," said his mother; "it's universally +allowed; all painters say that the autumn is the season to see a +landscape in."</p> + +<p>"All gold and russet," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"It makes me melancholy," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"What! the beautiful autumn make you melancholy?" asked his mother.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear mother, you mean to say that I am paradoxical again; I +cannot help it. I like spring; but autumn saddens me."</p> + +<p>"Charles always says so," said Mary; "he thinks nothing of the rich hues +into which the sober green changes; he likes the dull uniform of +summer."</p> + +<p>"No, it is not that," said Charles; "I never saw anything so gorgeous as +Magdalen Water-walk, for instance, in October; it is quite wonderful, +the variety of colours. I admire, and am astonished; but I cannot love +or like it. It is because I can't separate the look of things from what +it portends; that rich variety is but the token of disease and death."</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Mary, "colours have their own intrinsic beauty; we may +like them for their own sake."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Charles, "we always go by association; else why not +admire raw beef, or a toad, or some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">{247}</a></span> other reptiles, which are as +beautiful and bright as tulips or cherries, yet revolting, because we +consider what they are, not how they look?"</p> + +<p>"What next?" said his mother, looking up from her work; "my dear +Charles, you are not serious in comparing cherries to raw beef or to +toads?"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear mother," answered Charles, laughing, "no, I only say that +they look like them, not are like them."</p> + +<p>"A toad look like a cherry, Charles!" persisted Mrs. Reding.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear mother," he answered, "I can't explain; I really have said +nothing out of the way. Mary does not think I have."</p> + +<p>"But," said Mary, "why not associate pleasant thoughts with autumn?"</p> + +<p>"It is impossible," said Charles; "it is the sick season and the +deathbed of Nature. I cannot look with pleasure on the decay of the +mother of all living. The many hues upon the landscape are but the spots +of dissolution."</p> + +<p>"This is a strained, unnatural view, Charles," said Mary; "shake +yourself, and you will come to a better mind. Don't you like to see a +rich sunset? yet the sun is leaving you."</p> + +<p>Charles was for a moment posed; then he said, "Yes, but there was no +autumn in Eden; suns rose and set in Paradise, but the leaves were +always green, and did not wither. There was a river to feed them. Autumn +is the 'fall.'"</p> + +<p>"So, my dearest Charles," said Mrs. Reding, "you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">{248}</a></span> don't go out walking +these fine days because there was no autumn in the garden of Eden?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Charles, laughing, "it is cruel to bring me so to book. What +I meant was, that my reading was a direct obstacle to walking, and that +the fine weather did not tempt me to remove it."</p> + +<p>"I am glad we have you here, my dear," said his mother, "for we can +force you out now and then; at College I suspect you never walk at all."</p> + +<p>"It's only for a time, ma'am," said Charles; "when my examination is +over, I will take as long walks as I did with Edward Gandy that winter +after I left school."</p> + +<p>"Ah, how merry you were then, Charles!" said Mary; "so happy with the +thoughts of Oxford before you!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Reding, "you'll then walk too much, as you now +walk too little. My good boy, you are so earnest about everything."</p> + +<p>"It's a shame to find fault with him for being diligent," said Mary: +"you like him to read for honours, I know, mamma; but if he is to get +them he must read a great deal."</p> + +<p>"True, my love," answered Mrs. Reding; "Charles is a dear good fellow, I +know. How glad we all shall be to have him ordained, and settled in a +curacy!"</p> + +<p>Charles sighed. "Come, Mary," he said, "give us some music, now the urn +has gone away. Play me that beautiful air of Beethoven, the one I call +'The Voice of the Dead.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charles, you do give such melancholy names to things!" cried Mary.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">{249}</a></span></p> + +<p>"The other day," said Eliza, "we had a most beautiful scent wafted +across the road as we were walking, and he called it 'the Ghost of the +Past;' and he says that the sound of the Eolian harp is 'remorseful.'"</p> + +<p>"Now, you'd think all that very pretty," said Charles, "if you saw it in +a book of poems; but you call it melancholy when I say it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Caroline, "because poets never mean what they say, and +would not be poetical unless they were melancholy."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mary, "I play to you, Charles, on this one condition, that +you let me give you some morning a serious lecture on that melancholy of +yours, which, I assure you is growing on you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">{250}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XII" id="two_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Charles's</span> perplexities rapidly took a definite form on his coming into +Devonshire. The very fact of his being at home, and not at Oxford where +he ought to have been, brought them before his mind; and the near +prospect of his examination and degree justified the consideration of +them. No addition indeed was made to their substance, as already +described; but they were no longer vague and indistinct, but thoroughly +apprehended by him; nor did he make up his mind that they were +insurmountable, but he saw clearly what it was that had to be +surmounted. The particular form of argument into which they happened to +fall was determined by the circumstances in which he found himself at +the time, and was this, viz. how he could subscribe the Articles <i>ex +animo</i>, without faith, more or less, in his Church as the imponent; and +next, how he could have faith in her, her history and present condition +being what they were. The fact of these difficulties was a great source +of distress to him. It was aggravated by the circumstance that he had no +one to talk to, or to sympathize with him under them. And it was +completed by the necessity of carrying about with him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">{251}</a></span> a secret which he +dared not tell to others, yet which he foreboded must be told one day. +All this was the secret of that depression of spirits which his sisters +had observed in him.</p> + +<p>He was one day sitting thoughtfully over the fire with a book in his +hand, when Mary entered. "I wish you would teach <i>me</i> the art of reading +Greek in live coals," she said.</p> + +<p>"Sermons in stones, and good in everything," answered Charles.</p> + +<p>"You do well to liken yourself to the melancholy Jaques," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Not so," said he, "but to the good Duke Charles, who was banished to +the green forest."</p> + +<p>"A great grievance," answered Mary, "we being the wild things with whom +you are forced to live. My dear Charles," she continued, "I hope the +tittle-tattle that drove you here does not still dwell on your mind."</p> + +<p>"Why, it is not very pleasant, Mary, after having been on the best terms +with the whole College, and in particular with the Principal and +Jennings, at last to be sent down, as a rowing-man might be rusticated +for tandem-driving. You have no notion how strong the old Principal was, +and Jennings too."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dearest Charles, you must not brood over it," said Mary, "as I +fear you are doing."</p> + +<p>"I don't see where it is to end," said Charles; "the Principal expressly +said that my prospects at the University were knocked up. I suppose they +would not give me a testimonial, if I wished to stand for a fellowship +anywhere."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">{252}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, it is a temporary mistake," said Mary; "I dare say by this time +they know better. And it's one great gain to have you with us; we, at +least, ought to be obliged to them."</p> + +<p>"I have been so very careful, Mary," said Charles; "I have never been to +the evening-parties, or to the sermons which are talked about in the +University. It's quite amazing to me what can have put it into their +heads. At the Article-lecture I now and then asked a question, but it +was really because I wished to understand and get up the different +subjects. Jennings fell on me the moment I entered his room. I can call +it nothing else; very civil at first in his manner, but there was +something in his eye before he spoke which told me at once what was +coming. It's odd a man of such self-command as he should not better hide +his feelings; but I have always been able to see what Jennings was +thinking about."</p> + +<p>"Depend on it," said his sister, "you will think nothing of it whatever +this time next year. It will be like a summer-cloud, come and gone."</p> + +<p>"And then it damps me, and interrupts me in my reading. I fall back +thinking of it, and cannot give my mind to my books, or exert myself. It +is very hard."</p> + +<p>Mary sighed; "I wish I could help you," she said; "but women can do so +little. Come, let me take the fretting, and you the reading; that'll be +a fair division."</p> + +<p>"And then my dear mother too," he continued; "what will she think of it +when it comes to her ears? and come it must."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Mary, "don't make a mountain of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">{253}</a></span> a mole-hill. You will +go back, take your degree, and nobody will be the wiser."</p> + +<p>"No, it can't be so," said Charles seriously.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Mary.</p> + +<p>"These things don't clear off in that way," said he; "it is no +summer-cloud; it may turn to rain, for what they know."</p> + +<p>Mary looked at him with some surprise.</p> + +<p>"I mean," he said, "that I have no confidence that they will let me take +my degree, any more than let me reside there."</p> + +<p>"That is very absurd," said she; "it's what I meant by brooding over +things, and making mountains of mole-hills."</p> + +<p>"My sweet Mary," he said, affectionately taking her hand, "my only real +confidant and comfort, I would tell you something more, if you could +bear it."</p> + +<p>Mary was frightened, and her heart beat. "Charles," she said, +withdrawing her hand, "any pain is less than to see you thus. I see too +clearly that something is on your mind."</p> + +<p>Charles put his feet on the fender, and looked down.</p> + +<p>"I <i>can't</i> tell you," he said, at length, with vehemence; then, seeing +by her face how much he was distressing her, he said, half-laughing, as +if to turn the edge of his words, "My dear Mary, when people bear +witness against one, one can't help fearing that there is, perhaps, +something to bear witness against."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, Charles! <i>you</i> corrupt other people! <i>you</i> falsify the +Prayer Book and Articles! impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Mary, which do you think would be the best judge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">{254}</a></span> whether my face was +dirty and my coat shabby, you or I? Well, then, perhaps Jennings, or at +least common report, knows more about me than I do myself."</p> + +<p>"You must not speak in this way," said Mary, much hurt; "you really do +pain me now. What can you mean?"</p> + +<p>Charles covered his face with his hands, and at length said: "It's no +good; you can't assist me here; I only pain you. I ought not to have +begun the subject."</p> + +<p>There was a silence.</p> + +<p>"My dearest Charles," said Mary tenderly, "come, I will bear anything, +and not be annoyed. Anything better than to see you go on in this way. +But really you frighten me."</p> + +<p>"Why," he answered, "when a number of people tell me that Oxford is not +my place, not my position, perhaps they are right; perhaps it isn't."</p> + +<p>"But is that really all?" she said; "who wants you to lead an Oxford +life? not we."</p> + +<p>"No, but Oxford implies taking a degree—taking orders."</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear Charles, speak out; don't drop hints; let me know;" and +she sat down with a look of great anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, making an effort; "yet I don't know where to begin; but +many things have happened to me, in various ways, to show me that I have +not a place, a position, a home, that I am not made for, that I am a +stranger in, the Church of England."</p> + +<p>There was a dreadful pause; Mary turned very pale; then, darting at a +conclusion with precipitancy, she said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">{255}</a></span> quickly, "You mean to say, you +are going to join the Church of Rome, Charles."</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "it is not so. I mean no such thing; I mean just what I +say; I have told you the whole; I have kept nothing back. It is this, +and no more—that I feel out of place."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," she said, "you must tell me more; for, to my apprehension, +you mean just what I have said, nothing short of it."</p> + +<p>"I can't go through things in order," he said; "but wherever I go, +whomever I talk with, I feel him to be another sort of person from what +I am. I can't convey it to you; you won't understand me; but the words +of the Psalm, 'I am a stranger upon earth,' describe what I always feel. +No one thinks or feels like me. I hear sermons, I talk on religious +subjects with friends, and every one seems to bear witness against me. +And now the College bears its witness, and sends me down."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charles," said Mary, "how changed you are!" and tears came into her +eyes; "you used to be so cheerful, so happy. You took such pleasure in +every one, in everything. We used to laugh and say, 'All Charlie's geese +are swans.' What has come over you?" She paused, and then continued: +"Don't you recollect those lines in the 'Christian Year'? I can't repeat +them; we used to apply them to you; something about hope or love 'making +all things bright with her own magic smile.'"</p> + +<p>Charles was touched when he was reminded of what he had been three years +before; he said: "I suppose it is coming out of shadows into +realities."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">{256}</a></span></p> + +<p>"There has been much to sadden you," she added, sighing; "and now these +nasty books are too much for you. Why should you go up for honours? +what's the good of it?"</p> + +<p>There was a pause again.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could bring home to you," said Charles, "the number of +intimations, as it were, which have been given me of my uncongeniality, +as it may be called, with things as they are. What perhaps most affected +me, was a talk I had with Carlton, whom I have lately been reading with; +for, if I could not agree with <i>him</i>, or rather, if <i>he</i> bore witness +against me, who could be expected to say a word for me? I cannot bear +the pomp and pretence which I see everywhere. I am not speaking against +individuals; they are very good persons, I know; but, really, if you saw +Oxford as it is! The Heads with such large incomes; they are indeed very +liberal of their money, and their wives are often simple, self-denying +persons, as every one says, and do a great deal of good in the place; +but I speak of the system. Here are ministers of Christ with large +incomes, living in finely furnished houses, with wives and families, and +stately butlers and servants in livery, giving dinners all in the best +style, condescending and gracious, waving their hands and mincing their +words, as if they were the cream of the earth, but without anything to +make them clergymen but a black coat and a white tie. And then Bishops +or Deans come, with women tucked under their arm; and they can't enter +church but a fine powdered man runs first with a cushion for them to sit +on, and a warm sheepskin to keep their feet from the stones."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">{257}</a></span></p> + +<p>Mary laughed: "Well, my dear Charles," she said, "I did not think you +had seen so much of Bishops, Deans, Professors, and Heads of houses at +St. Saviour's; you have kept good company."</p> + +<p>"I have my eyes about me," said Charles, "and have had quite +opportunities enough; I can't go into particulars."</p> + +<p>"Well, you have been hard on them, I think," said Mary; "when a poor old +man has the rheumatism," and she sighed a little, "it is hard he mayn't +have his feet kept from the cold."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mary, I can't bring it home to you! but you must, please, throw +yourself into what I say, and not criticize my instances or my terms. +What I mean is, that there is a worldly air about everything, as unlike +as possible the spirit of the Gospel. I don't impute to the dons +ambition or avarice; but still, what Heads of houses, Fellows, and all +of them evidently put before them as an end is, to enjoy the world in +the first place, and to serve God in the second. Not that they don't +make it their final object to get to heaven; but their immediate object +is to be comfortable, to marry, to have a fair income, station, and +respectability, a convenient house, a pleasant country, a sociable +neighbourhood. There is nothing high about them. I declare I think the +Puseyites are the only persons who have high views in the whole place; I +should say, the only persons who profess them, for I don't know them to +speak about them." He thought of White.</p> + +<p>"Well, you are talking of things I don't know about," said Mary; "but I +can't think all the young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">{258}</a></span> clever men of the place are looking out for +ease and comfort; nor can I believe that in the Church of Rome money has +always been put to the best of purposes."</p> + +<p>"I said nothing about the Church of Rome," said Charles; "why do you +bring in the Church of Rome? that's another thing altogether. What I +mean is, that there is a worldly smell about Oxford which I can't abide. +I am not using 'worldly' in its worse sense. People are religious and +charitable; but—I don't like to mention names—but I know various dons, +and the notion of evangelical poverty, the danger of riches, the giving +up all for Christ, all those ideas which are first principles in +Scripture, as I read it, don't seem to enter into their idea of +religion. I declare, I think that is the reason why the Puseyites are so +unpopular."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't see," said Mary, "why you must be disgusted with the +world, and with your place and duties in it, because there are worldly +people in it."</p> + +<p>"But I was speaking of Carlton," said Charles; "do you know, good fellow +as he is—and I love, admire, and respect him exceedingly—he actually +laid it down almost as an axiom, that a clergyman of the English Church +ought to marry? He said that celibacy might be very well in other +communions, but that a man made himself a fool, and was out of joint +with the age, who remained single in the Church of England."</p> + +<p>Poor Charles was so serious, and the proposition which he related was so +monstrous, that Mary, in spite of her real distress, could not help +laughing out. "I really cannot help it," she said; "well, it really was +a most extraordinary statement, I confess. But, my dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">{259}</a></span> Charlie, you +are not afraid that he will carry you off against your will, and marry +you to some fair lady before you know where you are?"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk in that way, Mary," said Charles; "I can't bear a joke just +now. I mean, Carlton is so sensible a man, and takes so just a view of +things, that the conviction flashed on my mind, that the Church of +England really was what he implied it to be—a form of religion very +unlike that of the Apostles."</p> + +<p>This sobered Mary indeed. "Alas," she said, "we have got upon very +different ground now; not what our Church thinks of you, but what you +think of our Church." There was a pause. "I thought this was at the +bottom," she said; "I never could believe that a parcel of people, some +of whom you cared nothing for, telling you that you were not in your +place, would make you think so, unless you first felt it yourself. +That's the real truth; and then you interpret what others say in your +own way." Another uncomfortable pause. Then she continued: "I see how it +will be. When you take up a thing, Charles, I know well you don't lay it +down. No, you have made up your mind already. We shall see you a Roman +Catholic."</p> + +<p>"Do <i>you</i> then bear witness against me, Mary, as well as the rest?" said +he sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>She saw her mistake. "No," she answered; "all I say is, that it rests +with yourself, not with others. <i>If</i> you have made up your mind, there's +no help for it. It is not others who drive you, who bear witness against +you. Dear Charles, don't mistake me, and don't deceive yourself. You +have a strong <i>will</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">{260}</a></span></p> + +<p>At this moment Caroline entered the room. "I could not think where you +were, Mary," she said; "here Perkins has been crying after you ever so +long. It's something about dinner; I don't know what. We have hunted +high and low, and never guessed you were helping Charles at his books." +Mary gave a deep sigh, and left the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">{261}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XIII" id="two_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Neither</span> to brother nor to sister had the conversation been a +satisfaction or relief. "I can go nowhere for sympathy," thought +Charles; "dear Mary does not understand me more than others. I can't +bring out what I mean and feel; and when I attempt to do so, my +statements and arguments seem absurd to myself. It has been a great +effort to tell her; and in one sense it is a gain, for it is a trial +over. Else I have taken nothing by my move, and might as well have held +my tongue. I have simply pained her without relieving myself. +By-the-bye, she has gone off believing about twice as much as the fact. +I was going to set her right when Carry came in. My only difficulty is +about taking orders; and she thinks I am going to be a Roman Catholic. +How absurd! but women will run on so; give an inch, and they take an +ell. I know nothing of the Roman Catholics. The simple question is, +whether I should go to the Bar or the Church. I declare, I think I have +made vastly too much of it myself. I ought to have begun this way with +her,—I ought to have said, 'D'you know, I have serious thoughts of +reading law?' I've made a hash of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">{262}</a></span></p> + +<p>Poor Mary, on the other hand, was in a confusion of thought and feeling +as painful as it was new to her; though for a time household matters and +necessary duties towards her younger sisters occupied her mind in a +different direction. She had been indeed taken at her word; little had +she expected what would come on her when she engaged to "take the +fretting, while he took the reading." She had known what grief was, not +so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of +mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite +frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, +and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. +She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford +party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on +visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and +clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery—a charge which she +had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that +there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she +hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her +brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all +their lives—one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so +cautious,—that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of +the new opinions,—it bewildered her.</p> + +<p>And where <i>had</i> he got his notions?—Notions! she could not call them +notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, +so clever, so sharp-sighted,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">{263}</a></span> could say nothing better in defence of +himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old +Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could +be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had +enjoyed all his life? What could he need? <i>She</i> had no need at all: +going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and +the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The +historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just +before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons +from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the +ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual +solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too—the +Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, +which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the +beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? +Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that +<i>she</i> was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had +acted on the powerful mind of her brother.</p> + +<p>Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a +clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom +she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she +wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he +had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was +gone for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">{264}</a></span> ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only +stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of +them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible!</p> + +<p>And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner +or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well +enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he +would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons +there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could +be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all +calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it +better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait +till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, +and she must leave it.</p> + +<p>This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually +subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual +element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then +betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither +brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite +the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; +self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than +before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more +attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the +drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he +had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">{265}</a></span> both wished his stupid +examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural +liveliness.</p> + +<p>As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very +hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so +fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; +not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the +country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, +she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any +way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the +winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much +less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own +religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in +no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his +former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings +which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and +professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion +was lodged deep in her mind—he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, +but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that +occasion she had expressed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">{266}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XIV" id="two_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">One</span> morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been +shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure +of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a +neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and +shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white +neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have +expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the +accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be +that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated +into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the +trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he +must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the +sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and +Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest +pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after +Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the +young ladies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">{267}</a></span></p> + +<p>"A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are +once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view."</p> + +<p>"No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the +hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the +prospect ought to be from the opposite windows."</p> + +<p>"What is that high hill?" said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it."</p> + +<p>"We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;—"ring +the bell for luncheon, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of +building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, +for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our +ecclesiastical structures."</p> + +<p>"Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many +churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. +Martin's was one of them."</p> + +<p>"Fifty," said Eliza.</p> + +<p>"Fifty were intended," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy +Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the +Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance +at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by +English Churchmen before it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">{268}</a></span> one good thing in +building churches; it has saved us much trouble."</p> + +<p>"Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said +Bateman, taken rather aback.</p> + +<p>"My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, +there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary.</p> + +<p>"Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are +destroying the pews."</p> + +<p>"They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern."</p> + +<p>"Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of +incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!"</p> + +<p>A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking +if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford.</p> + +<p>Bateman looked modest.</p> + +<p>"Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but +he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that +sort of thing."</p> + +<p>It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on +clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an +account of his own reforms.</p> + +<p>"Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or +you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens +and vestries,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">{269}</a></span> as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of +the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to +introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, +intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. +However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be +two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my +parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?"</p> + +<p>"It is a very cold dress, sir—that's my opinion—when made of silk or +bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself."</p> + +<p>"Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss +Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, +and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat +being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan +with the long cassock; I put my coat over it."</p> + +<p>Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. +"Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed +French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and +appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think +this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, +'That's the parson.'"</p> + +<p>"I'll be bound they do," said Charles.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">{270}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever +hear the like!"</p> + +<p>Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened.</p> + +<p>"You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said +Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother.</p> + +<p>"Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding +me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have +liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, +however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now +by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of +condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this +is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one +in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those +who are below."</p> + +<p>"It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one +can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered."</p> + +<p>"One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking +amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, +you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own +alterations."</p> + +<p>Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach +sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than +to stand."</p> + +<p>"With these precautions," said Charles, "I really<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">{271}</a></span> think you might have +ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your +parishioners contented?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. +The alteration is so simple."</p> + +<p>"Nothing besides?" asked Charles.</p> + +<p>"Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in +the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of +Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a +chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church +is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the +young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you +must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. +There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end."</p> + +<p>Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of +the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid +terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles.</p> + +<p>"Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report +concerning you, which is everywhere about?"</p> + +<p>"I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as +great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell +me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">{272}</a></span> They +say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of +Rome."</p> + +<p>"Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from +Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a +visitation dinner in Wales."</p> + +<p>"So," thought Charles, "you are bringing <i>your</i> witness against me as +well as the rest."</p> + +<p>"Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it +true—is it true?"</p> + +<p>"What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you +understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said +Charles.</p> + +<p>"Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. +Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a +certain point, or in any respect?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict +it entirely."</p> + +<p>"May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat +denial?" asked Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course."</p> + +<p>Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing +him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk +in silence.</p> + +<p>Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful +blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, +who had known <i>what</i> the Church of England was; not a Dissenter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">{273}</a></span> not an +unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across +so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, +her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches +decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, +lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, +had seen the Church Service <i>carried out</i>, and could desiderate +nothing;—tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, +"what is it you want—what is it? name it."</p> + +<p>"That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he +spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated +nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of +leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. +"Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the +circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the +subject."</p> + +<p>"What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening +to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. +He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was +deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and +that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist +even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day +a Romanist for certain, for that you held that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">{274}</a></span> the saints reigning with +Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the +report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that +he always prophesied it."</p> + +<p>"I am much obliged to him," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it—so I +understand you—to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. +It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going."</p> + +<p>"I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you +must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't +feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, +don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a +night, if you wish it."</p> + +<p>Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when +they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I +should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you +Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and +Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself +with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help +being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">{275}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XV" id="two_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Much</span> as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters +he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with +pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at +Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could +effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated +about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, +was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he +thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could +turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been +asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of +the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a +little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind.</p> + +<p>They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner +turned on the revival of Gothic architecture—an event which gave +unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, +almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had +not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">{276}</a></span> that, if he had his will, +there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and +no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave +scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of +worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the +mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and +places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion +in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it +was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry +in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the +Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the +Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, +Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of +immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as +their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then +you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms."</p> + +<p>"But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say +that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward +expression, so that one form is no better than another?"</p> + +<p>"Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music +to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the +representative of a particular place or time."</p> + +<p>"That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," +said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and +modern."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">{277}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat +Protestant."</p> + +<p>"The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican +habit: the coat comes from Catholic France."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; +"and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians."</p> + +<p>"Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both +eminently Catholic."</p> + +<p>"You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet +there's no Gothic there."</p> + +<p>"Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if +we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, +can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?"</p> + +<p>"Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they +are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider +the first specimen of Antichrist."</p> + +<p>"It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think +that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You +said so yourself just now."</p> + +<p>"It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The +Church of Rome has not <i>corrupted</i> the faith, but has <i>admitted</i> +corruptions among her people."</p> + +<p>"It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">{278}</a></span> we can't stand our +ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the +Church of Rome."</p> + +<p>"Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British +Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with +us, but she will."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the +Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is +Antichrist was the life of the movement."</p> + +<p>"With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; +"but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as +that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have +and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the +Church of Rome—that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, +energizing in her, and ruling her—is necessary to a man's being a good +Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been +that Rome and we are sister Churches."</p> + +<p>"I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not +withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of +Rome. She is our mother—oh, that word 'mother!'—a mighty mother! She +opens her arms—oh, the fragrance of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">{279}</a></span> that bosom! She is full of +gifts—I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? +Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did +that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her +corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, +my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only +way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to +Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our +divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome +is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is +necessary for our position."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used +in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that +disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments."</p> + +<p>"You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean +is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is +antichristian, if you think so. For if it <i>is</i> so, it is necessary to +<i>say</i> so. A poet says, 'Speak <i>gently</i> of our sister's <i>fall</i>:' no, if +it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So +great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your +view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you +don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">{280}</a></span> our +divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not +joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you <i>don't</i> +think, but what you <i>do</i> think, <i>if</i> you do think it."</p> + +<p>"Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy +into a nutshell."</p> + +<p>Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the +day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome."</p> + +<p>"Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," +answered Campbell; "be sure of this,—those who have given up their +protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes +to see."</p> + +<p>"All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that <i>we</i> don't +wish to interfere with Rome; <i>we</i> don't anathematize Rome—Rome +anathematizes <i>us</i>."</p> + +<p>"It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our +Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon +their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for +their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn +Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get +over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help +speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be +consistent."</p> + +<p>"Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he +chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's +a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no +reader<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">{281}</a></span> of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the +Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the +discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but +not very intellectually.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">{282}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XVI" id="two_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">After</span> dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and +Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" +asked Charles.</p> + +<p>"Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should +like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell."</p> + +<p>"Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; +every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of +arguing about it? you won't agree with me."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they +differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other."</p> + +<p>"A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so +much sense, should have so little common sense!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, +when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have +figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas."</p> + +<p>"My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian +chants and hymns have always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">{283}</a></span> accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, +Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices."</p> + +<p>"Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great +in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet +invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina."</p> + +<p>"A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the +rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison. Both existed +before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards +consecrated to the service of the Church."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan."</p> + +<p>"Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they +were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old +architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting +their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't +have a long Gregorian <i>Gloria</i>."</p> + +<p>"Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to +complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad."</p> + +<p>"I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce +them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the +melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as +either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the +natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on +another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or +twice as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">{284}</a></span> wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of +proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the +primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to +their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you +attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers."</p> + +<p>"You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, +and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," +said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is."</p> + +<p>"Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. +You say, 'How <i>can</i> he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' +but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a +disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat +and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was +never made for."</p> + +<p>"This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; +"instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any +other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more +about the subject than I do."</p> + +<p>"I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music +did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became +known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly +ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given +birth to Beethoven."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">{285}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern +instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture +could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great +mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in +music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has +gained by it."</p> + +<p>"It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed +to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not +musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being <i>simple</i>, I +have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture <i>simple</i>?' A cathedral +expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its +parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must +in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you +must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows."</p> + +<p>"And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman +with Gregorians?"</p> + +<p>"For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer +Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and +development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the +Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the +exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a +host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be +respectful towards classical."</p> + +<p>The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">{286}</a></span> music," said +Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead +me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not +religious."</p> + +<p>"I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said +Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven +inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate +Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for +cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. +"Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must +consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our +people."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is +Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and +just a little modern richness."</p> + +<p>"And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a +mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. +It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the +architecture of the façade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian."</p> + +<p>"It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be +absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract +principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture +myself, though I can't defend it."</p> + +<p>Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">{287}</a></span> home soon; it was +the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he +said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield +to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you +laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock."</p> + +<p>"It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell.</p> + +<p>"A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state."</p> + +<p>"What are you passing to?" asked Charles.</p> + +<p>"Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your +man Willis—I don't know his college, he turned Romanist—is living in +my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen him?" said Charles.</p> + +<p>"No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to +mass, I find."</p> + +<p>"Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman.</p> + +<p>"At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday."</p> + +<p>"That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding.</p> + +<p>"A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to +church up to the week he joined the Romanists."</p> + +<p>"Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">{288}</a></span> very satisfactory, a +melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of +delusions should be at length recovered."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a +number more."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church +has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I +cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there +is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the +case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, +because they can't help it.—Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought +round?—How <i>can</i> they help it?" continued he, standing up over the +fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to +drive them back."</p> + +<p>"Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is +deplorable, unpardonable."</p> + +<p>"They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell.</p> + +<p>"Did you hear the report—I did not think much of it myself," said +Reding,—"that Smith was moving?"</p> + +<p>"Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the +enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it."</p> + +<p>"<i>Not</i> impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his +great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was +announced. "Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">{289}</a></span> Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if +you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the +offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">{290}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XVII" id="two_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Campbell</span> put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. +It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the +lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once +buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came +in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a +religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary +between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred +symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still +venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. +Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little +mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders +were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated +what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to +interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the +sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was +overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy +times," he cried, "when faith was one! O<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">{291}</a></span> blessed penitent, whoever you +are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin +where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about +everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, +took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that +whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the +loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. +He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm +and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned +that pool—St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed—to plead for him, and to +aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It +is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed +away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace.</p> + +<p>The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to +his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his +table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He +broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:—</p> + +<p class="center noind">"<i>Questions for one whom it concerns.</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p class="neg">1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?"</p> +</div> + +<p>"This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" +and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some +well-meaning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">{292}</a></span> person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up +his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in +this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a +Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had +seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began +reading <i>in extenso:</i>—</p> + +<p class="center noind">"<i>Questions for one whom it concerns.</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p class="neg">1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?</p> + +<p class="neg">2. Is it a generalization or a thing?</p> + +<p class="neg">3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time?</p> + +<p class="neg">4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom?</p> + +<p class="neg">5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end?</p> + +<p class="neg">6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the +Church a kingdom?</p> + +<p class="neg">7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible?</p> + +<p class="neg">8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary +directions?</p> + +<p class="neg">9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to +make two nations one kingdom?</p> + +<p class="neg">10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, +sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one?</p> + +<p class="neg">11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a +visible unity require a visible union?</p> + +<p class="neg">12. How can two religions be the same which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">{293}</a></span> have utterly distinct +worships and ideas of worship?</p> + +<p class="neg">13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act +of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous +deceit' in the other?</p> + +<p class="neg">14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith?</p> + +<p class="neg">15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith?</p> + +<p class="neg">16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents?</p> + +<p class="neg">17. And in different centuries?</p> + +<p class="neg">18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines?</p> + +<p class="neg">19. And in its divines and members one with another?</p> + +<p class="neg">20. What is <i>the</i> faith of the English Church?</p> + +<p class="neg">21. How many Councils does the English Church admit?</p> + +<p class="neg">22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and +Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church?</p> + +<p class="neg">23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a +professed messenger from God?</p> + +<p class="neg">24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from +God?</p> + +<p class="neg">25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it?</p> + +<p class="neg">26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church +seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins?</p> + +<p class="neg">27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems +to have hope and charity?"</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">{294}</a></span></p> + +<p>Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It +won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but +they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and +was soon fast asleep.</p> + +<p>Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, +and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do +wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere +else. I wish I knew <i>what</i> Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains +to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But +it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to +giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten +it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede +its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went +to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could +not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a +conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least +so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall +be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall +go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can +but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry +me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear +father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't +put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless +my reading to my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">{295}</a></span> spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul +sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I +have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. +"My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my +examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and +signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well +written—better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's +something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his +mother get on together. I don't think he <i>has</i> any sisters."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">{296}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XVIII" id="two_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Campbell</span> had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was +not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English +Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to +dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had +accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the +rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy +as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear +head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted +Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be +a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother +under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; +and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to +save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk +to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly +it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that +he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing +occurred which particularly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">{297}</a></span> bears upon the line of our narrative; so +let them pass.</p> + +<p>One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was +surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with +a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing +him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the +stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not +control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of +reconversion. Charles was evidently <i>de trop</i>, but there was no help for +it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of +Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese.</p> + +<p>Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his +eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had +before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. +He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was +changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was +natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was +in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; +his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but +there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his +cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. +When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self +returned.</p> + +<p>"I suppose we may all admire this cream at this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">{298}</a></span> season," said Charles, +as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men."</p> + +<p>"It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they +have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, +and very common."</p> + +<p>"Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I +fancied oil was the substitute."</p> + +<p>"Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the +summer."</p> + +<p>"Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the +multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and +butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it +as milk."</p> + +<p>"The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles.</p> + +<p>"Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All +such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at +first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much +for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are +in a measure artificial."</p> + +<p>"It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I +could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some +others."</p> + +<p>"Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only +naturally palatable, I suppose,—a crust of bread and a draught from the +stream," replied Campbell.</p> + +<p>"Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">{299}</a></span></p> + +<p>"The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more +palatable," said Willis.</p> + +<p>"Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a +something <i>recherché</i>. Thus Horace speaks of the '<i>peregrina lagois</i>.' +What nature yields <i>sponte suâ</i> around you, however delicious, is no +luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your +Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples."</p> + +<p>"Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," +said Bateman; "for it comes from China."</p> + +<p>Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were +quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it +might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened +before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were +making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price +would soon be the only measure of luxury.</p> + +<p>"This seems the measure also of <i>grasso</i> and <i>magro</i> food in Italy," +said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in +Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil."</p> + +<p>"This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," +observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound +by their lax ways in Italy?"</p> + +<p>"I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">{300}</a></span> fasting is unsuitable +to this age, in England as well as in Rome."</p> + +<p>"Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you +won't secure your prisoner."</p> + +<p>"What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most +rigidly at Oxford."</p> + +<p>"It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge."</p> + +<p>"But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman.</p> + +<p>"They are not binding," answered Campbell.</p> + +<p>"They <i>are</i>, binding," said Bateman.</p> + +<p>A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: +"Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread—home-made, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p>"A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:—"not binding?—Pass it to him, +Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad +you like it.—I repeat, they <i>are</i> binding, Campbell."</p> + +<p>"An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; +"they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put +in force?"</p> + +<p>"But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted +Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story."</p> + +<p>"Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a +difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">{301}</a></span></p> + +<p>"My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor +Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude +of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I +appeal to Mr. Willis."</p> + +<p>Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he +had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that +when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, +if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he +was considered <i>ipso facto</i> to revoke it.</p> + +<p>"What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of +which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the +exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at +length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we +should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give +expression to this common-sense view."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. +Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the +Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; +the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">{302}</a></span></p> + +<p>"But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you +have heard."</p> + +<p>Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to +Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one +Church?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly," answered Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word <i>one</i>?"</p> + +<p>"In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion."</p> + +<p>"That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have +no intercourse with each other."</p> + +<p>Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social +dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual +support; in short, no visible union."</p> + +<p>Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I +can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are +not visibly united; unity implies <i>union</i>."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, +Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of +our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English +and Romish Churches are both parts of it."</p> + +<p>Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came +to the rescue in his own way.</p> + +<p>"We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A +kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, +yet be still a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">{303}</a></span> kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the +Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a +rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a +rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to +divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of +one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part +of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part +of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and +England."</p> + +<p>"Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; +"consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union +between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha +may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom."</p> + +<p>"The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to +dissolution?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly it is," answered Campbell.</p> + +<p>"And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's +saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' +just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah +when the Shiloh came."</p> + +<p>"Surely the Church has failed already <i>before</i> the end," said Willis, +"according to the view you take of failing. How <i>can</i> any separation be +more complete<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">{304}</a></span> than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and +England?"</p> + +<p>"They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell.</p> + +<p>"Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something +definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation."</p> + +<p>"Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit +yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did +occur, it would be difficult to see our way."</p> + +<p>"No," said Willis; "you certainly <i>would</i> be in a difficulty; but you +would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some +other <i>ultimatum</i> as your test of schism. There would be," he added, +speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'"</p> + +<p>The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the +conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, +had been an impatient listener.</p> + +<p>"That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go +along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, +it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the +Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other +sanctuaries, these fitly typify it."</p> + +<p>"My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to +maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we +must allow the <i>fact</i> that the branches of the Church are <i>divided</i>, +while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">{305}</a></span> we maintain the <i>doctrine</i>, that the Church should be one."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. +There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, +and it is <i>not</i> divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, +manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much +as ever it was."</p> + +<p>"That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in +a state of discomfort. "Nature never intended you for a +controversialist, my good Bateman," he added to himself.</p> + +<p>"It is as I thought," said Willis; "Bateman, you are describing an +invisible Church. You hold the indefectibility of the invisible Church, +not of the visible."</p> + +<p>"They are in a fix," thought Charles, "but I will do my best to tow old +Bateman out;" so he began: "No," he said, "Bateman only means that one +Church presents, in some particular point, a different appearance from +another; but it does not follow that, in fact, they have not a visible +agreement too. All difference implies agreement; the English and Roman +Churches agree visibly and differ visibly. Think of the different styles +of architecture, and you will see, Willis, what he means. A church is a +church all the world over, it is visibly one and the same, and yet how +different is church from church! Our churches are Gothic, the southern +churches are Palladian. How different is a basilica from York Cathedral! +yet they visibly agree together. No one would mistake either for a +mosque<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">{306}</a></span> or a Jewish temple. We may quarrel which is the better style; +one likes the basilica, another calls it pagan."</p> + +<p>"That <i>I</i> do," said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"A little extreme," said Campbell, "a little extreme, as usual. The +basilica is beautiful in its place. There are two things which Gothic +cannot show—the line or forest of round polished columns, and the +graceful dome, circling above one's head like the blue heaven itself."</p> + +<p>All parties were glad of this diversion from the religious dispute; so +they continued the lighter conversation which had succeeded it with +considerable earnestness.</p> + +<p>"I fear I must confess," said Willis, "that the churches at Rome do not +affect me like the Gothic; I reverence them, I feel awe in them, but I +love, I feel a sensible pleasure at the sight of the Gothic arch."</p> + +<p>"There are other reasons for that in Rome," said Campbell; "the churches +are so unfinished, so untidy. Rome is a city of ruins! the Christian +temples are built on ruins, and they themselves are generally +dilapidated or decayed; thus they are ruins of ruins." Campbell was on +an easier subject than that of Anglo-Catholicism, and, no one +interrupting him, he proceeded flowingly: "In Rome you have huge high +buttresses in the place of columns, and these not cased with marble, but +of cold white plaster or paint. They impart an indescribable forlorn +look to the churches."</p> + +<p>Willis said he often wondered what took so many foreigners, that is, +Protestants, to Rome; it was so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">{307}</a></span> dreary, so melancholy a place; a number +of old, crumbling, shapeless brick masses, the ground unlevelled, the +straight causeways fenced by high monotonous walls, the points of +attraction straggling over broad solitudes, faded palaces, trees +universally pollarded, streets ankle deep in filth or eyes-and-mouth +deep in a cloud of whirling dust and straws, the climate most +capricious, the evening air most perilous. Naples was an earthly +paradise; but Rome was a city of faith. To seek the shrines that it +contained was a veritable penance, as was fitting. He understood +Catholics going there; he was perplexed at Protestants.</p> + +<p>"There is a spell about the <i>limina Apostolorum</i>," said Charles; "St. +Peter and St. Paul are not there for nothing."</p> + +<p>"There is a more tangible reason," said Campbell; "it is a place where +persons of all nations are to be found; no society is so varied as the +Roman. You go to a ballroom; your host, whom you bow to in the first +apartment, is a Frenchman; as you advance your eye catches Massena's +granddaughter in conversation with Mustapha Pasha; you soon find +yourself seated between a Yankee <i>chargé d'affaires</i> and a Russian +colonel; and an Englishman is playing the fool in front of you."</p> + +<p>Here Campbell looked at his watch, and then at Willis, whom he had +driven over to Melford to return Bateman's call. It was time for them to +be going, or they would be overtaken by the evening. Bateman, who had +remained in a state of great dissatisfaction since he last spoke, which +had not been for a quarter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">{308}</a></span> of an hour past, did not find himself in +spirits to try much to detain either them or Reding; so he was speedily +left to himself. He drew his chair to the fire, and for a while felt +nothing more than a heavy load of disgust. After a time, however, his +thoughts began to draw themselves out into series, and took the +following form: "It's too bad, too bad," he said; "Campbell is a very +clever man—far cleverer than I am; a well-read man, too; but he has no +tact, no tact. It is deplorable; Reding's coming was one misfortune; +however, we might have got over that, we might have even turned it to an +advantage; but to use such arguments as he did! how could he hope to +convince him? he made us both a mere laughing-stock.... How did he throw +off? Oh, he said that the Rubrics were not binding. Who ever heard such +a thing—at least from an Anglo-Catholic? Why pretend to be a good +Catholic with such views? better call himself a Protestant or Erastian +at once, and one would know where to find him. Such a bad impression it +must make on Willis; I saw it did; he could hardly keep from smiling: +but Campbell has no tact at all. He goes on, on, his own way, bringing +out his own thoughts, which are very clever, original certainly, but +never considering his company. And he's so positive, so knock-me-down; +it is quite unpleasant, I don't know how to sit it sometimes. Oh, it is +a cruel thing this—the effect must be wretched. Poor Willis! I declare +I don't think we have moved him one inch, I really don't. I fancied at +one time he was even laughing at <i>me</i>.... What was it he said +afterwards?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">{309}</a></span> there was something else, I know. I recollect; that the +Catholic Church was in ruins, had broken to pieces. What a paradox! +who'll believe that but he? I declare I am so vexed I don't know what to +be at." He jumped up and began walking to and fro. "But all this is +because the Bishops won't interfere; one can't say it, that's the worst, +but they are at the bottom of the evil. They have but to put out their +little finger and enforce the Rubrics, and then the whole controversy +would be at an end.... I knew there was something else, yes! He said we +need not fast! But Cambridge men are always peculiar, they always have +some whim or other; he ought to have been at Oxford, and we should have +made a man of him. He has many good points, but he runs theories, and +rides hobbies, and drives consequences, to death."</p> + +<p>Here he was interrupted by his clerk, who told him that John Tims had +taken his oath that his wife should not be churched before the +congregation, and was half-minded to take his infant to the Methodists +for baptism; and his thoughts took a different direction.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">{310}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XIX" id="two_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> winter had been on the whole dry and pleasant, but in February and +March the rains were so profuse, and the winds so high, that Bateman saw +very little of either Charles or Willis. He did not abandon his designs +on the latter, but it was an anxious question how best to conduct them. +As to Campbell, he was resolved to exclude him from any participation in +them; but he hesitated about Reding. He had found him far less +definitely Roman than he expected, and he conjectured that, by making +him his confidant and employing him against Willis, he really might +succeed in giving him an Anglican direction. Accordingly, he told him of +his anxiety to restore Willis to "the Church of his baptism;" and not +discouraged by Charles's advice to let well alone, for he might succeed +in drawing him from Rome without reclaiming him to Anglicanism, the +weather having improved, he asked the two to dinner on one of the later +Sundays in Lent. He determined to make a field-day of it; and, with that +view, he carefully got up some of the most popular works against the +Church of Rome. After much thought he determined to direct his attack on +some of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">{311}</a></span> the "practical evils," as he considered them, of "Romanism;" as +being more easy of proof than points of doctrine and history, in which, +too, for what he knew, Willis might by this time be better read than +himself. He considered, too, that, if Willis had been at all shaken in +his new faith when he was abroad, it was by the practical +exemplification which he had before his eyes of the issue of its +peculiar doctrines when freely carried out. Moreover, to tell the truth, +our good friend had not a very clear apprehension how much doctrine he +held in common with the Church of Rome, or where he was to stop in the +several details of Pope Pius's Creed; in consequence, it was evidently +safer to confine his attack to matters of practice.</p> + +<p>"You see, Willis," he said, as they sat down to table, "I have given you +abstinence food, not knowing whether you avail yourself of the +dispensation. We shall eat meat ourselves; but don't think we don't fast +at proper times; I don't agree with Campbell at all; we don't fast, +however, on Sunday. That is our rule, and, I take it, a primitive one."</p> + +<p>Willis answered that he did not know how the primitive usage lay, but he +supposed that both of them allowed that matters of discipline might be +altered by the proper authority.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered Bateman, "so that everything is done consistently +with the inspired text of Scripture;"—he stopped, itching, if he could, +to bring in some great subject, but not seeing how. He saw he must rush +<i>in medias res</i>; so he added,—"with which inspired<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">{312}</a></span> text, I presume, +what one sees in foreign churches is not very consistent."</p> + +<p>"What? I suppose you mean antependia, rere-dosses, stone altars, copes, +and mitres," said Willis innocently; "which certainly are not in +Scripture."</p> + +<p>"True," said Bateman; "but these, though not in Scripture, are not +inconsistent with Scripture. They are all very right; but the worship of +Saints, especially the Blessed Virgin, and of relics, the gabbling over +prayers in an unknown tongue, Indulgences, and infrequent communions, I +suspect are directly unscriptural."</p> + +<p>"My dear Bateman," said Willis, "you seem to live in an atmosphere of +controversy; so it was at Oxford; there was always argument going on in +your rooms. Religion is a thing to enjoy, not to quarrel about; give me +a slice more of that leg of mutton."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Bateman," said Reding, "you must let us enjoy our meat. Willis +deserves it, for I believe he has had a fair walk to-day. Have you not +walked a good part of the way to Seaton and back? a matter of fourteen +miles, and hilly ground; it can't be dry, too, in parts yet."</p> + +<p>"True," said Bateman; "take a glass of wine, Willis; it's good Madeira; +an aunt of mine sent it me."</p> + +<p>"He puts us to shame," said Charles, "who have stepped into church from +our bedroom; he has trudged a pilgrimage to his."</p> + +<p>"I'm not saying a word against our dear friend Willis," said Bateman; +"it was merely a point on which I thought he would agree with me, that +there were many corruptions of worship in foreign churches."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">{313}</a></span></p> + +<p>At last, when his silence was observable, Willis said that he supposed +that persons who were not Catholics could not tell what were corruptions +and what not. Here the subject dropped again; for Willis did not seem in +humour—perhaps he was too tired—to continue it. So they ate and drank, +with nothing but very commonplace remarks to season their meal withal, +till the cloth was removed. The table was then shoved back a bit, and +the three young men got over the fire, which Bateman made burn brightly. +Two of them at least had deserved some relaxation, and they were the two +who were to be opponent and respondent in the approaching argument—one +had had a long walk, the other had had two full services, a baptism, and +a funeral. The armistice continued a good quarter of an hour, which +Charles and Willis spent in easy conversation; till Bateman, who had +been priming himself the while with his controversial points, found +himself ready for the assault, and opened it in form.</p> + +<p>"Come, my dear Willis," he said, "I can't let you off so; I am sure what +you saw abroad scandalized you."</p> + +<p>This was almost rudely put. Willis said that, had he been a Protestant, +he might have been easily shocked; but he had been a Catholic; and he +drew an almost imperceptible sigh. Besides, had he had a temptation to +be shocked, he should have recollected that he was in a Church which in +all greater matters could not err. He had not come to the Church to +criticize, he said, but to learn. "I don't know," he said, "what is +meant by saying that we ought to have faith, that faith is a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">{314}</a></span> grace, +that faith is the means of our salvation, if there is nothing to +exercise it. Faith goes against sight; well, then, unless there are +sights which offend you, there is nothing for it to go against."</p> + +<p>Bateman called this a paradox; "If so," he said, "why don't we become +Mahometans? we should have enough to believe then."</p> + +<p>"Why, just consider," said Willis; "supposing your friend, an honourable +man, is accused of theft, and appearances are against him, would you at +once admit the charge? It would be a fair trial of your faith in him; +and if he were able in the event satisfactorily to rebut it, I don't +think he would thank you, should you have waited for his explanation +before you took his part, instead of knowing him too well to suspect it. +If, then, I come to the Church with faith in her, whatever I see there, +even if it surprises me, is but a trial of my faith."</p> + +<p>"That is true," said Charles; "but there must be some ground for faith; +we do not believe without reason; and the question is, whether what the +Church does, as in worship, is not a fair matter to form a judgment +upon, for or against."</p> + +<p>"A Catholic," said Willis, "as I was when I was abroad, has already +found his grounds, for he believes; but for one who has not—I mean a +Protestant—I certainly consider it is very uncertain whether he will +take <i>the</i> view of Catholic worship which he ought to take. It may +easily happen that he will not understand it."</p> + +<p>"Yet persons have before now been converted by the sight of Catholic +worship," said Reding.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">{315}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered Willis: "God works in a thousand ways; there is +much in Catholic worship to strike a Protestant, but there is much which +will perplex him; for instance, what Bateman has alluded to, our +devotion to the Blessed Virgin."</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Bateman, "this is a plain matter; it is quite impossible +that the worship paid by Roman Catholics to the Blessed Mary should not +interfere with the supreme adoration due to the Creator alone."</p> + +<p>"This is just an instance in point," said Willis; "you see you are +judging <i>à priori</i>; you know nothing of the state of the case from +experience, but you say, 'It must be; it can't be otherwise.' This is +the way a Protestant judges, and comes to one conclusion; a Catholic, +who acts, and does not speculate, feels the truth of the contrary."</p> + +<p>"Some things," said Bateman, "are so like axioms, as to supersede trial. +On the other hand, familiarity is very likely to hide from people the +real evil of certain practices."</p> + +<p>"How strange it is," answered Willis, "that you don't perceive that this +is the very argument which various sects urge against you Anglicans! For +instance, the Unitarian says that the doctrine of the Atonement <i>must</i> +lead to our looking at the Father, not as a God of love, but of +vengeance only; and he calls the doctrine of eternal punishment immoral. +And so, the Wesleyan or Baptist declares that it is an absurdity to +suppose any one can hold the doctrine of baptismal regeneration, and +really be spiritual; that the doctrine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">{316}</a></span> <i>must</i> have a numbing effect on +the mind, and destroy its simple reliance on the atonement of Christ. I +will take another instance: many a good Catholic, who never came across +Anglicans, is as utterly unable to realize your position as you are to +realize his. He cannot make out how you can be so illogical as not to go +forward or backward; nay, he pronounces your professed state of mind +impossible; he does not believe in its existence. I may deplore your +state; I may think you illogical and worse; but I know it is a state +which does exist. As, then, I admit that a person can hold one Catholic +Church, yet without believing that the Roman Communion is it, so I put +it to you, even as an <i>argumentum ad hominem</i>, whether you ought not to +believe that we can honour our Blessed Lady as the first of creatures, +without interfering with the honour due to God? At most, you ought to +call us only illogical, you ought not to deny that we do what we say we +do."</p> + +<p>"I make a distinction," said Bateman; "it is quite possible, I fully +grant, for an educated Romanist to distinguish between the devotion paid +by him to the Blessed Virgin, and the worship of God; I only say that +the multitude will not distinguish."</p> + +<p>"I know you say so," answered Willis; "and still, I repeat, not from +experience, but on an <i>à priori</i> ground. You say, not 'it is so,' but +'it <i>must</i> be so.'"</p> + +<p>There was a pause in the conversation, and then Bateman recommenced it.</p> + +<p>"You may give us some trouble," said he, laughing, "but we are resolved +to have you back, my good Willis.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">{317}</a></span> Now consider, you are a lover of +truth: is that Church from heaven which tells untruths?"</p> + +<p>Willis laughed too; "We must define the words <i>truth</i> and <i>untruth</i>," he +said; "but, subject to that definition, I have no hesitation in +enunciating the truism, that a Church is not from heaven which tells +untruths."</p> + +<p>"Of course, you can't deny the proposition," said Bateman; "well, then, +is it not quite certain that in Rome itself there are relics which all +learned men now give up, and which yet are venerated as relics? For +instance, Campbell tells me that the reputed heads of St. Peter and St. +Paul, in some great Roman basilica, are certainly not the heads of the +Apostles, because the head of St. Paul was found with his body, after +the fire at his church some years since."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about the particular instance," answered Willis; "but you +are opening a large question which cannot be settled in a few words. If +I must speak, I should say this: I should begin with the assumption that +the existence of relics is not improbable; do you grant <i>that</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I grant nothing," said Bateman; "but go on."</p> + +<p>"Why you have plenty of heathen relics, which you admit. What is +Pompeii, and all that is found there, but one vast heathen relic? why +should there not be Christian relics in Rome and elsewhere as well as +pagan?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"Well, and relics may be identified. You have the tomb of the Scipios, +with their names on them. Did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">{318}</a></span> you find ashes in one of them, I suppose +you would be pretty certain that they were the ashes of a Scipio."</p> + +<p>"To the point," cried Bateman, "quicker."</p> + +<p>"St. Peter," continued Willis, "speaks of David, 'whose sepulchre is +with you unto this day.' Therefore it's nothing wonderful that a +religious relic should be preserved eleven hundred years, and identified +to be such, when a nation makes a point of preserving it."</p> + +<p>"This is beating about the bush," cried Bateman impatiently; "get on +quicker."</p> + +<p>"Let me go on my own way," said Willis—"then there is nothing +improbable, considering Christians have always been very careful about +the memorials of sacred things—"</p> + +<p>"You've not proved that," said Bateman, fearing that some manœuvre, +he could not tell what, was in progress.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Willis, "you don't doubt it, I suppose, at least from the +fourth century, when St. Helena brought from the Holy Land the memorials +of our Lord's passion, and lodged them at Rome in the Basilica, which +was thereupon called Santa Croce. As to the previous times of +persecution, Christians, of course, had fewer opportunities of showing a +similar devotion, and historical records are less copious; yet, in spite +of this, its existence is as certain as any fact of history. They +collected the bones of St. Polycarp, the immediate disciple of St. John, +after he was burnt; as of St. Ignatius before him, after his exposure to +the beasts; and so in like manner the bones or blood of all the martyrs. +No one doubts it; I never heard of any one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">{319}</a></span> who did. So the disciples +took up the Baptist's body—it would have been strange if they had +not—and buried it 'in <i>the</i> sepulchre,' as the Evangelist says, +speaking of it as known. Now, why should they not in like manner, and +even with greater reason, have rescued the bodies of St. Peter and St. +Paul, if it were only for decent burial? Is it then wonderful, if the +bodies were rescued, that they should be afterwards preserved?"</p> + +<p>"But they can't be in two places at once," said Bateman.</p> + +<p>"But hear me," answered Willis; "I say then if there is a tradition +that in a certain place there is a relic of an apostle, there is at +first sight a probability that it <i>is</i> there; the presumption is in its +favour. Can you deny it? Well, if the same relic is reported to be in +two places, then one or the other tradition is erroneous, and the <i>primâ +facie</i> force of both traditions is weakened; but I should not actually +discard either at once; each has its force still, though neither so +great a force. Now, suppose there are circumstances which confirm the +one, the other is weakened still further, and at length the probability +of its truth may become evanescent; and when a fair interval has passed, +and there is no change of evidence in its favour, then it is at length +given up. But all this is a work of time; meanwhile, it is not a bit +more of an objection to the doctrine and practice of relic-veneration +that a body is said to lie in two places, than to profane history that +Charles I. was reported by some authorities to be buried at Windsor, by +others at Westminster; which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">{320}</a></span> question was decided just before our +times. It is a question of evidence, and must be treated as such."</p> + +<p>"But if St. Paul's head was found under his own church," said Bateman, +"it's pretty clear it is not preserved at the other basilica."</p> + +<p>"True," answered Willis; "but grave questions of this kind cannot be +decided in a moment. I don't know myself the circumstances of the case, +and do but take your account of it. It has to be proved, then, I +suppose, that it <i>was</i> St. Paul's head which was found with his body; +for, since he was beheaded, it would not be attached to it. This is one +question, and others would arise. It is not easy to settle a question of +history. Questions which seem settled revive. It is very well for +secular historians to give up a tradition or testimony at once, and for +a generation to oh-oh it; but the Church cannot do so; she has a +religious responsibility, and must move slowly. Take the <i>chance</i> of its +turning out that the heads at St. John Lateran were, after all, those of +the two Apostles, and that she had cast them aside. Questions, I say, +revive. Did not Walpole make it highly probable that the two little +princes had a place in the procession at King Richard's coronation, +though a century before him two skeletons of boys were found in the +Tower at the very place where the children of Edward were said to have +been murdered and buried by the Duke of Gloucester? I speak from memory, +but the general fact which I am illustrating is undeniable. Ussher, +Pearson, and Voss proved that St. Ignatius's shorter Epistles were +genuine; and now,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">{321}</a></span> after the lapse of two centuries, the question is at +least plausibly mooted again."</p> + +<p>There was another pause, while Bateman thought over his facts and +arguments, but nothing was forthcoming at the moment. Willis continued: +"You must consider also that reputed relics, such as you have mentioned, +are generally in the custody of religious bodies, who are naturally very +jealous of attempts to prove them spurious, and, with a pardonable +<i>esprit de corps</i>, defend them with all their might, and oppose +obstacles in the way of an adverse decision; just as your own society +defends, most worthily, the fair fame of your foundress, Queen Boadicea. +Were the case given against her by every tribunal in the land, your +valiant and loyal Head would not abandon her; it would break his +magnanimous heart; he would die in her service as a good knight. Both +from religious duty, then, and from human feeling, it is a very arduous +thing to get a received relic disowned."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Bateman, "to my poor judgment it does seem a dishonesty to +keep up inscriptions, for instance, which every one knows not to be +true."</p> + +<p>"My dear Bateman, that is begging the question," said Willis; "<i>every</i> +body does <i>not</i> know it; it is a point in course of settlement, but not +settled; you may say that <i>individuals</i> have settled it, or it <i>may</i> be +settled, but it is not settled yet. Parallel cases happen frequently in +civil matters, and no one speaks harshly of existing individuals or +bodies in consequence. Till<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">{322}</a></span> lately the Monument in London bore an +inscription to the effect that London had been burned by us poor +Papists. A hundred years ago, Pope, the poet, had called the 'column' 'a +tall bully' which 'lifts its head and lies,' Yet the inscription was not +removed till a few years since—I believe when the Monument was +repaired. That was an opportunity for erasing a calumny which, till +then, had not been definitely pronounced to be such, and not pronounced +in deference to the <i>primâ facie</i> authority of a statement +contemporaneous with the calamity which it recorded. There is never a +<i>point</i> of time at which you can say, 'The tradition is now disproved.' +When a received belief has been apparently exposed, the question lies +dormant for the opportunity of fresh arguments; when none appear, then +at length an accident, such as the repair of a building, despatches it."</p> + +<p>"We have somehow got off the subject," thought Bateman; and he sat +fidgeting about to find the thread of his argument. Reding put in an +objection; he said that no one knew or cared about the inscription on +the Monument, but religious veneration was paid to the two heads at St. +John Lateran.</p> + +<p>"Right," said Bateman, "that's just what I meant to say."</p> + +<p>"Well," answered Willis, "as to the particular case—mind, I am taking +your account of it, for I don't profess to know how the matter lies. But +let us consider the extent of the mistake. There is no doubt in the +world that at least they are the heads of martyrs; the only question is +this, and no more, whether they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">{323}</a></span> are the very heads of the two Apostles. +From time immemorial they have been preserved upon or under the altar as +the heads of saints or martyrs; and it requires to know very little of +Christian antiquities to be perfectly certain that they really are +saintly relics, even though unknown. Hence the sole mistake is, that +Catholics have venerated, what ought to be venerated anyhow, under a +wrong name; perhaps have expected miracles (which they had a right to +expect), and have experienced them (as they might well experience them), +because they <i>were</i> the relics of saints, though they were in error as +to what saints. This surely is no great matter."</p> + +<p>"You have made three assumptions," said Bateman; "first, that none but +the relics of saints have been placed under altars; secondly, that these +relics were always there; thirdly—thirdly—I know there was a +third—let me see—"</p> + +<p>"Most true," said Willis, interrupting him, "and I will help you to some +others. I have assumed that there are Christians in the world called +Catholics; again, that they think it right to venerate relics; but, my +dear Bateman, these were the grounds, and not the point of our argument; +and if they are to be questioned, it must be in a distinct dispute: but +I really think we have had enough of disputation."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Bateman," said Charles; "it is getting late. I must think of +returning. Give us some tea, and let us begone."</p> + +<p>"Go home?" cried Bateman; "why, we have just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">{324}</a></span> done dinner, and done +nothing else as yet; I had a great deal to say."</p> + +<p>However, he rang the bell for tea, and had the table cleared.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">{325}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XX" id="two_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> conversation flagged; Bateman was again busy with his memory; and he +was getting impatient too; time was slipping away, and no blow struck; +moreover, Willis was beginning to gape, and Charles seemed impatient to +be released. "These Romanists put things so plausibly," he said to +himself, "but very unfairly, most unfairly; one ought to be up to their +dodges. I dare say, if the truth were known, Willis has had lessons; he +looks so demure; I dare say he is keeping back a great deal, and playing +upon my ignorance. Who knows? perhaps he's a concealed Jesuit." It was +an awful thought, and suspended the course of his reflections some +seconds. "I wonder what he does really think; it's so difficult to get +at the bottom of them; they won't tell tales, and they are under +obedience; one never knows when to believe them. I suspect he has been +wofully disappointed with Romanism; he looks so thin; but of course he +won't say so; it hurts a man's pride, and he likes to be consistent; he +doesn't like to be laughed at, and so he makes the best of things. I +wish I knew how to treat him; I was wrong in having Reding here; of +course<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">{326}</a></span> Willis would not be confidential before a third person. He's +like the fox that lost his tail. It was bad tact in me; I see it now; +what a thing it is to have tact! it requires very delicate tact. There +are so many things I wished to say, about Indulgences, about their so +seldom communicating; I think I must ask him about the Mass." So, after +fidgeting a good deal within, while he was ostensibly employed in making +tea, he commenced his last assault.</p> + +<p>"Well, we shall have you back again among us by next Christmas, Willis," +he said; "I can't give you greater law; I am certain of it; it takes +time, but slow and sure. What a joyful time it will be! I can't tell +what keeps you; you are doing nothing; you are flung into a corner; you +are wasting life. <i>What</i> keeps you?"</p> + +<p>Willis looked odd; then he simply answered, "Grace."</p> + +<p>Bateman was startled, but recovered himself; "Heaven forbid," he said, +"that I should treat these things lightly, or interfere with you unduly. +I know, my dear friend, what a serious fellow you are; but do tell me, +just tell me, how can you justify the Mass, as it is performed abroad; +how can it be called a 'reasonable service,' when all parties conspire +to gabble it over as if it mattered not a jot who attended to it, or +even understood it? Speak, man, speak," he added, gently shaking him by +the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"These are such difficult questions," answered Willis; "must I speak? +Such difficult questions," he continued, rising into a more animated +manner, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">{327}</a></span> kindling as he went on; "I mean, people view them so +differently: it is so difficult to convey to one person the idea of +another. The idea of worship is different in the Catholic Church from +the idea of it in your Church; for, in truth, the <i>religions</i> are +different. Don't deceive yourself, my dear Bateman," he said tenderly, +"it is not that ours is your religion carried a little farther,—a +little too far, as you would say. No, they differ in kind, not in +degree; ours is one religion, yours another. And when the time comes, +and come it will, for you, alien as you are now, to submit yourself to +the gracious yoke of Christ, then, my dearest Bateman, it will be +<i>faith</i> which will enable you to bear the ways and usages of Catholics, +which else might perhaps startle you. Else, the habits of years, the +associations in your mind of a certain outward behaviour with real +inward acts of devotion, might embarrass you, when you had to conform +yourself to other habits, and to create for yourself other associations. +But this faith, of which I speak, the great gift of God, will enable you +in that day to overcome yourself, and to submit, as your judgment, your +will, your reason, your affections, so your tastes and likings, to the +rule and usage of the Church. Ah, that faith should be necessary in such +a matter, and that what is so natural and becoming under the +circumstances, should have need of an explanation! I declare, to me," he +said, and he clasped his hands on his knees, and looked forward as if +soliloquizing, "to me nothing is so consoling, so piercing, so +thrilling, so overcoming, as the Mass, said as it is among us. I could +attend Masses for ever, and not be tired. It is not a mere form of +words,—it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">{328}</a></span> is a great action, the greatest action that can be on earth. +It is, not the invocation merely, but, if I dare use the word, the +evocation of the Eternal. He becomes present on the altar in flesh and +blood, before whom angels bow and devils tremble. This is that awful +event which is the scope, and is the interpretation, of every part of +the solemnity. Words are necessary, but as means, not as ends; they are +not mere addresses to the throne of grace, they are instruments of what +is far higher, of consecration, of sacrifice. They hurry on as if +impatient to fulfil their mission. Quickly they go, the whole is quick; +for they are all parts of one integral action. Quickly they go; for they +are awful words of sacrifice, they are a work too great to delay upon; +as when it was said in the beginning, 'What thou doest, do quickly.' +Quickly they pass; for the Lord Jesus goes with them, as He passed along +the lake in the days of His flesh, quickly calling first one and then +another. Quickly they pass; because as the lightning which shineth from +one part of the heaven unto the other, so is the coming of the Son of +Man. Quickly they pass; for they are as the words of Moses, when the +Lord came down in the cloud, calling on the Name of the Lord as He +passed by, 'The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, +long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth.' And as Moses on the +mountain, so we too 'make haste and bow our heads to the earth, and +adore.' So we, all around, each in his place, look out for the great +Advent, 'waiting for the moving of the water.' Each in his place, with +his own heart, with his own wants, with his own thoughts, with his own +intention, with his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">{329}</a></span> own prayers, separate but concordant, watching what +is going on, watching its progress, uniting in its consummation;—not +painfully and hopelessly following a hard form of prayer from beginning +to end, but, like a concert of musical instruments, each different, but +concurring in a sweet harmony, we take our part with God's priest, +supporting him, yet guided by him. There are little children there, and +old men, and simple labourers, and students in seminaries, priests +preparing for Mass, priests making their thanksgiving; there are +innocent maidens, and there are penitent sinners; but out of these many +minds rises one eucharistic hymn, and the great Action is the measure +and the scope of it. And oh, my dear Bateman," he added, turning to him, +"you ask me whether this is not a formal, unreasonable service—it is +wonderful!" he cried, rising up, "quite wonderful. When will these dear, +good people be enlightened? <i>O Sapientia, fortiter suaviterque disponens +omnia, O Adonai, O Clavis David et Exspectatio gentium, veni ad +salvandum nos, Domine Deus noster.</i>"</p> + +<p>Now, at least, there was no mistaking Willis. Bateman stared, and was +almost frightened at a burst of enthusiasm which he had been far from +expecting. "Why, Willis," he said, "it is not true, then, after all, +what we heard, that you were somewhat dubious, shaky, in your adherence +to Romanism? I'm sure I beg your pardon; I would not for the world have +annoyed you, had I known the truth."</p> + +<p>Willis's face still glowed, and he looked as youthful and radiant as he +had been two years before. There was nothing ungentle in his +impetuosity; a smile,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">{330}</a></span> almost a laugh, was on his face, as if he was +half ashamed of his own warmth; but this took nothing from its evident +sincerity. He seized Bateman's two hands, before the latter knew where +he was, lifted him up out of his seat, and, raising his own mouth close +to his ear, said, in a low voice, "I would to God, that not only thou, +but also all who hear me this day, were both in little and in much such +as I am, except these chains." Then, reminding him it had grown late, +and bidding him good-night, he left the room with Charles.</p> + +<p>Bateman remained a while with his back to the fire after the door had +closed; presently he began to give expression to his thoughts. "Well," +he said, "he's a brick, a regular brick; he has almost affected me +myself. What a way those fellows have with them! I declare his touch has +made my heart beat; how catching enthusiasm is! Any one but I might +really have been unsettled. He <i>is</i> a real good fellow; what a pity we +have not got him! he's just the sort of man we want. He'd make a +splendid Anglican; he'd convert half the Dissenters in the country. +Well, we shall have them in time; we must not be impatient. But the idea +of his talking of converting <i>me</i>! 'in little and in much,' as he worded +it! By-the-bye, what did he mean by 'except these chains'?" He sat +ruminating on the difficulty; at first he was inclined to think that, +after all, he might have some misgiving about his position; then he +thought that perhaps he had a hair-shirt or a <i>catenella</i> on him; and +lastly, he came to the conclusion that he had just meant nothing at all, +and did but finish the quotation he had begun.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">{331}</a></span></p> + +<p>After passing some little time in this state, he looked towards the +tea-tray; poured himself out another cup of tea; ate a bit of toast; +took the coals off the fire; blew out one of the candles, and, taking up +the other, left the parlour and wound like an omnibus up the steep +twisting staircase to his bedroom.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Willis and Charles were proceeding to their respective homes. +For a while they had to pursue the same path, which they did in silence. +Charles had been moved far more than Bateman, or rather touched, by the +enthusiasm of his Catholic friend, though, from a difficulty in finding +language to express himself, and a fear of being carried off his legs, +he had kept his feelings to himself. When they were about to part, +Willis said to him, in a subdued tone, "You are soon going to Oxford, +dearest Reding; oh, that you were one with us! You have it in you. I +have thought of you at Mass many times. Our priest has said Mass for +you. Oh, my dear friend, quench not God's grace; listen to His call; you +have had what others have not. What you want is faith. I suspect you +have quite proof enough; enough to be converted on. But faith is a gift; +pray for that great gift, without which you cannot come to the Church; +without which," and he paused, "you cannot walk aright when you are in +the Church. And now farewell! alas, our path divides; all is easy to him +that believeth. May God give you that gift of faith, as He has given me! +Farewell again; who knows when I may see you next, and where? may it be +in the courts of the true Jerusalem, the Queen of Saints, the Holy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">{332}</a></span> +Roman Church, the Mother of us all!" He drew Charles to him and kissed +his cheek, and was gone before Charles had time to say a word.</p> + +<p>Yet Charles could not have spoken had he had ever so much opportunity. +He set off at a brisk pace, cutting down with his stick the twigs and +brambles which the pale twilight discovered in his path. It seemed as if +the kiss of his friend had conveyed into his own soul the enthusiasm +which his words had betokened. He felt himself possessed, he knew not +how, by a high superhuman power, which seemed able to push through +mountains, and to walk the sea. With winter around him, he felt within +like the spring-tide, when all is new and bright. He perceived that he +had found, what indeed he had never sought, because he had never known +what it was, but what he had ever wanted,—a soul sympathetic with his +own. He felt he was no longer alone in the world, though he was losing +that true congenial mind the very moment he had found him. Was this, he +asked himself, the communion of Saints? Alas! how could it be, when he +was in one communion and Willis in another? "O mighty Mother!" burst +from his lips; he quickened his pace almost to a trot, scaling the steep +ascents and diving into the hollows which lay between him and Boughton. +"O mighty Mother!" he still said, half unconsciously; "O mighty Mother! +I come, O mighty Mother! I come; but I am far from home. Spare me a +little; I come with what speed I may, but I am slow of foot, and not as +others, O mighty Mother!"</p> + +<p>By the time he had walked two miles in this excitement,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">{333}</a></span> bodily and +mental, he felt himself, as was not wonderful, considerably exhausted. +He slackened his pace, and gradually came to himself, but still he went +on, as if mechanically, "O mighty Mother!" Suddenly he cried, "Hallo! +where did I get these words? Willis did not use them. Well, I must be on +my guard against these wild ways. Any one can be an enthusiast; +enthusiasm is not truth ... O mighty Mother!... Alas, I know where my +heart is! but I must go by reason ... O mighty Mother!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">{334}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="two_XXI" id="two_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> time came at length for Charles to return to Oxford; but during the +last month scruples had arisen in his mind, whether, with his present +feelings, he could consistently even present himself for his +examination. No subscription was necessary for his entrance into the +schools, but he felt that the honours of the class-list were only +intended for those who were <i>bonâ fide</i> adherents of the Church of +England. He laid his difficulty before Carlton, who in consequence did +his best to ascertain thoroughly his present state of mind. It seemed +that Charles had no <i>intention</i>, either now or at any future day, of +joining the Church of Rome; that he felt he could not take such a step +at present without distinct sin; that it would simply be against his +conscience to do so; that he had no feeling whatever that God called him +to do so; that he felt that nothing could justify so serious an act but +the conviction that he could not be saved in the Church to which he +belonged; that he had no such feeling; that he had no definite case +against his own Church sufficient for leaving it, nor any definite view +that the Church of Rome was the One Church of Christ:—that still he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">{335}</a></span> +could not help suspecting that one day he should think otherwise; he +conceived the day might come, nay would come, when he should have that +conviction which at present he had not, and which of course would be a +call on him to act upon it, by leaving the Church of England for that of +Rome; he could not tell distinctly why he so anticipated, except that +there were so many things which he thought right in the Church of Rome, +and so many which he thought wrong in the Church of England; and, +because, too, the more he had an opportunity of hearing and seeing, the +greater cause he had to admire and revere the Roman Catholic system, and +to be dissatisfied with his own. Carlton, after carefully considering +the case, advised him to go in for his examination. He acted thus, on +the one hand, as vividly feeling the changes which take place in the +minds of young men, and the difficulty of Reding foretelling his own +state of opinions two years to come; and, on the other, from the +reasonable anticipation that a contrary advice would have been the very +way to ripen his present doubts on the untenableness of Anglicanism into +conviction.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, his examination came off in due time; the schools were +full, he did well, and his class was considered to be secure. Sheffield +followed soon after, and did brilliantly. The list came out; Sheffield +was in the first class, Charles in the second. There is always of +necessity a good deal of accident in these matters; but in the present +case reasons enough could be given to account for the unequal success of +the two friends. Charles had lost some time by his father's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">{336}</a></span> death, and +family matters consequent upon it; and his virtual rustication for the +last six months had been a considerable disadvantage to him. Moreover, +though he had been a careful, persevering reader, he certainly had not +run the race for honours with the same devotion as Sheffield; nor had +his religious difficulties, particularly his late indecision about +presenting himself at all, been without their serious influence upon his +attention and his energy. As success had not been the first desire of +his soul, so failure was not his greatest misery. He would have much +preferred success; but in a day or two he found he could well endure the +want of it.</p> + +<p>Now came the question about his degree, which could not be taken without +subscription to the Articles. Another consultation followed with +Carlton. There was no need of his becoming a B.A. at the moment; nothing +would be gained by it; better that he should postpone the step. He had +but to go down and say nothing about it; no one would be the wiser; and +if, at the end of six months, as Carlton sanguinely anticipated, he +found himself in a more comfortable frame of mind, then let him come up, +and set all right.</p> + +<p>What was he to do with himself at the moment? There was little +difficulty here either, what to propose. He had better be reading with +some clergyman in the country; thus he would at once be preparing for +orders, and clearing his mind on the points which at present troubled +him; besides, he might thus have some opportunity for parochial duty, +which would have a tranquillizing and sobering effect on his mind. As to +the books to which he should give his attention, of course<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">{337}</a></span> the choice +would rest with the clergyman who was to guide him; but for himself +Carlton would not recommend the usual works in controversy with Rome, +for which the Anglican Church was famous; rather those which are of a +positive character, which treated subjects philosophically, +historically, or doctrinally, and displayed the peculiar principles of +that Church; Hooker's great work, for instance; or Bull's <i>Defensio</i> and +<i>Harmonia</i>, or Pearson's <i>Vindiciæ</i>, or Jackson on the Creed, a noble +work; to which Laud on Tradition might be added, though its form was +controversial. Such, too, were Bingham's Antiquities, Waterland on the +Use of Antiquity, Wall on Infant Baptism, and Palmer on the Liturgy. Nor +ought he to neglect practical and devotional authors, as Bishops Taylor, +Wilson, and Horne. The most important point remained; whither was he to +betake himself? did he know of any clergyman in the country who would be +willing to receive him as a friend and a pupil? Charles thought of +Campbell, with whom he was on the best of terms; and Carlton knew enough +of him by reputation, to be perfectly sure that he could not be in safer +hands.</p> + +<p>Charles, in consequence, made the proposal to him, and it was accepted. +Nothing then remained for him but to pay a few bills, to pack up some +books which he had left in a friend's room, and then to bid adieu, at +least for a time, to the cloisters and groves of the University. He +quitted in June, when everything was in that youthful and fragrant +beauty which he had admired so much in the beginning of his residence +three years before.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">{338}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="PART_III" id="PART_III"></a>Part III.</h2> + +<h2><a name="three_I" id="three_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">But</span> now we must look forward, not back. Once before we took leave to +pass over nearly two years in the life of the subject of this narrative, +and now a second and a dreary and longer interval shall be consigned to +oblivion, and the reader shall be set down in the autumn of the year +next but one after that in which Charles took his class and did not take +his degree.</p> + +<p>At this time our interest is confined to Boughton and the Rectory at +Sutton. As to Melford, friend Bateman had accepted the incumbency of a +church in a manufacturing town with a district of 10,000 souls, where he +was full of plans for the introduction of the surplice and gilt +candlesticks among his people, and where, it is to be hoped, he will +learn wisdom. Willis also was gone, on a different errand: he had bid +adieu to his mother and brother soon after Charles had gone into the +schools, and now was Father Aloysius de Sanctâ Cruce in the Passionist +Convent of Pennington.</p> + +<p>One evening, at the end of September, in the year<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">{339}</a></span> aforesaid, Campbell +had called at Boughton, and was walking in the garden with Miss Reding. +"Really, Mary," he said to her, "I don't think it does any good to keep +him. The best years of his life are going, and, humanly speaking, there +is not any chance of his changing his mind, at least till he has made a +trial of the Church of Rome. It is quite possible that experience may +drive him back."</p> + +<p>"It is a dreadful dilemma," she answered; "how can we even indirectly +give him permission to take so fatal a step?"</p> + +<p>"He is a dear, good fellow," he made reply; "he is a sterling fellow; +all this long time that he has been with me he has made no difficulties; +he has read thoroughly the books that I recommended and more, and done +whatever I told him. You know I have employed him in the parish; he has +taught the Catechism to the children, and been almoner. Poor fellow, his +health is suffering now: he sees there's no end of it, and hope deferred +makes the heart sick."</p> + +<p>"It is so dreadful to give any countenance to what is so very wrong," +said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Why, what is to be done?" answered Campbell; "and we need not +countenance it; he can't be kept in leading-strings for ever, and there +has been a kind of bargain. He wanted to make a move at the end of the +first year—I didn't think it worth while to fidget you about it—but I +quieted him. We compounded in this way: he removed his name from the +college-boards,—there was not the slightest chance of his ever signing +the Articles,—and he consented to wait another year.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">{340}</a></span> Now the time's +up, and more, and he is getting impatient. So it's not we who shall be +giving him countenance, it will only be his leaving us."</p> + +<p>"But it is so fearful," insisted Mary; "and my poor mother—I declare I +think it will be her death."</p> + +<p>"It will be a crushing blow, there's no doubt of that," said Campbell; +"what does she know of it at present?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly can tell you," answered she; "she has been informed of it +indeed distinctly a year ago; but seeing Charles so often, and he in +appearance just the same, I fear she does not realize it. She has never +spoken to me on the subject. I fancy she thinks it a scruple; +troublesome, certainly, but of course temporary."</p> + +<p>"I must break it to her, Mary," said Campbell.</p> + +<p>"Well, I think it <i>must</i> be done," she replied, heaving a sudden sigh; +"and if so, it will be a real kindness in you to save me a task to which +I am quite unequal. But have a talk with Charles first. When it comes to +the point he may have a greater difficulty than he thinks beforehand."</p> + +<p>And so it was settled; and, full of care at the double commission with +which he was charged, Campbell rode back to Sutton.</p> + +<p>Poor Charles was sitting at an open window, looking out upon the +prospect, when Campbell entered the room. It was a beautiful landscape, +with bold hills in the distance, and a rushing river beneath him. +Campbell came up to him without his perceiving it; and, putting his hand +on his shoulder, asked his thoughts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">{341}</a></span></p> + +<p>Charles turned round, and smiled sadly. "I am like Moses seeing the +land," he said; "my dear Campbell, when shall the end be?"</p> + +<p>"That, my good Charles, of course does not rest with me," answered +Campbell.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, "the year is long run out; may I go my way?"</p> + +<p>"You can't expect that I, or any of us, should even indirectly +countenance you in what, with all our love of you, we think a sin," said +Campbell.</p> + +<p>"That is as much as to say, 'Act for yourself,'" answered Charles; +"well, I am willing."</p> + +<p>Campbell did not at once reply; then he said, "I shall have to break it +to your poor mother; Mary thinks it will be her death."</p> + +<p>Charles dropped his head on the window-sill, upon his hands. "No," he +said; "I trust that she, and all of us, will be supported."</p> + +<p>"So do I, fervently," answered Campbell; "it will be a most terrible +blow to your sisters. My dear fellow, should you not take all this into +account? Do seriously consider the actual misery you are causing for +possible good."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I have not considered it, Campbell? Is it nothing for one +like me to be breaking all these dear ties, and to be losing the esteem +and sympathy of so many persons I love? Oh, it has been a most piercing +thought; but I have exhausted it, I have drunk it out. I have got +familiar with the prospect now, and am fully reconciled. Yes, I give up +home, I give up all who have ever known me, loved me, valued<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">{342}</a></span> me, wished +me well; I know well I am making myself a by-word and an outcast."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear Charles," answered Campbell, "beware of a very subtle +temptation which may come on you here. I have meant to warn you of it +before. The greatness of the sacrifice stimulates you; you do it because +it is so much to do."</p> + +<p>Charles smiled. "How little you know me!" he said; "if that were the +case, should I have waited patiently two years and more? Why did I not +rush forward as others have done? <i>You</i> will not deny that I have acted +rationally, obediently. I have put the subject from me again and again, +and it has returned."</p> + +<p>"I'll say nothing harsh or unkind of you, Charles," said Campbell; "but +it's a most unfortunate delusion. I wish I could make you take in the +idea that there is the chance of its <i>being</i> a delusion."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Campbell, how can you forget so?" answered Charles; "don't you know +this is the very thing which has influenced me so much all along? I +said, 'Perhaps I am in a dream. Oh, that I could pinch myself and +awake!' You know what stress I laid on my change of feeling upon my dear +father's death; what I thought to be convictions before, vanished then +like a cloud. I have said to myself, 'Perhaps these will vanish too.' +But no; 'the clouds return after the rain;' they come again and again, +heavier than ever. It is a conviction rooted in me; it endures against +the prospect of loss of mother and sisters. Here I sit wasting my days, +when I might be useful in life. Why? Because this hinders me. Lately it +has increased on me tenfold. You will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">{343}</a></span> be shocked, but let me tell you +in confidence,—lately I have been quite afraid to ride, or to bathe, or +to do anything out of the way, lest something should happen, and I might +be taken away with a great duty unaccomplished. No, by this time I have +proved that it is a real conviction. My belief in the Church of Rome is +part of myself; I cannot act against it without acting against God."</p> + +<p>"It is a most deplorable state of things certainly," said Campbell, who +had begun to walk up and down the room; "that it is a delusion, I am +confident; perhaps you are to find it so, just when you have taken the +step. You will solemnly bind yourself to a foreign creed, and, as the +words part from your mouth, the mist will roll up from before your eyes, +and the truth will show itself. How dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"I have thought of that too," said Charles, "and it has influenced me a +great deal. It has made me shrink back. But I now believe it to be like +those hideous forms which in fairy tales beset good knights, when they +would force their way into some enchanted palace. Recollect the words in +Thalaba, 'The talisman is <i>faith</i>.' If I have good grounds for +believing, to believe is a duty; God will take care of His own work. I +shall not be deserted in my utmost need. Faith ever begins with a +venture, and is rewarded with sight."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my good Charles," answered Campbell; "but the question is, whether +your grounds <i>are</i> good. What I mean is, that, <i>since</i> they are <i>not</i> +good, they will not avail you in the trial. You will then, too late, +find they are not good, but delusive."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">{344}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Campbell," answered Charles, "I consider that all reason comes from +God; our grounds must at best be imperfect; but if they appear to be +sufficient after prayer, diligent search, obedience, waiting, and, in +short, doing our part, they are His voice calling us on. He it is, in +that case, who makes them seem convincing to us. I am in His hands. The +only question is, what would He have me to do? I cannot resist the +conviction which is upon me. This last week it has possessed me in a +different way than ever before. It is now so strong, that to wait longer +is to resist God. Whether I join the Catholic Church is now simply a +question of days. I wish, dear Campbell, to leave you in peace and love. +Therefore, consent; let me go."</p> + +<p>"Let you go!" answered Campbell; "certainly, were it the Catholic Church +to which you are going, there would be no need to ask; but 'let you go,' +how can you expect it from us when we do not think so? Think of our +case, Charles, as well as your own; throw yourself into our state of +feeling. For myself, I cannot deny, I never have concealed from you my +convictions, that the Romish Church is antichristian. She has ten +thousand gifts, she is in many respects superior to our own; but she has +a something in her which spoils all. I have no <i>confidence</i> in her; and, +that being the case, how can I 'let you go' to her? No: it's like a +person saying, 'Let me go and hang myself;' 'let me go sleep in a +fever-ward;' 'let me jump into that well;'—how can I 'let you go'?"</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Charles, "that's our dreadful difference; we can't get +farther than that. <i>I</i> think the Church of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">{345}</a></span> Rome the Prophet of God; +<i>you</i>, the tool of the devil."</p> + +<p>"I own," said Campbell, "I do think that, if you take this step, you +will find yourself in the hands of a Circe, who will change you, make a +brute of you."</p> + +<p>Charles slightly coloured.</p> + +<p>"I won't go on," added Campbell; "I pain you; it's no good; perhaps I am +making matters worse."</p> + +<p>Neither spoke for some time. At length Charles got up, came up to +Campbell, took his hand, and kissed it. "You have been a kind, +disinterested friend to me for two years," he said; "you have given me a +lodging under your roof; and now we are soon to be united by closer +ties. God reward you; but 'let me go, for the day breaketh.'"</p> + +<p>"It is hopeless!" cried Campbell; "let us part friends: I must break it +to your mother."</p> + +<p>In ten days after this conversation Charles was ready for his journey; +his room put to rights; his portmanteau strapped; and a gig at the door, +which was to take him the first stage. He was to go round by Boughton; +it had been arranged by Campbell and Mary that it would be best for him +not to see his mother (to whom Campbell had broken the matter at once) +till he took leave of her. It would be needless pain to both of them to +attempt an interview sooner.</p> + +<p>Charles leapt from the gig with a beating heart, and ran up to his +mother's room. She was sitting by the fire at her work when he entered; +she held out her hand coldly to him, and he sat down. Nothing was said +for a little while; then, without leaving off her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">{346}</a></span> occupation, she said, +"Well, Charles, and so you are leaving us. Where and how do you propose +to employ yourself when you have entered upon your new life?"</p> + +<p>Charles answered that he had not yet turned his mind to the +consideration of anything but the great step on which everything else +depended.</p> + +<p>There was another silence; then she said, "You won't find anywhere such +friends as you have had at home, Charles." Presently she continued, "You +have had everything in your favour, Charles; you have been blessed with +talents, advantages of education, easy circumstances; many a deserving +young man has to scramble on as he can."</p> + +<p>Charles answered that he was deeply sensible how much he owed in +temporal matters to Providence, and that it was only at His bidding that +he was giving them up.</p> + +<p>"We all looked up to you, Charles; perhaps we made too much of you; +well, God be with you; you have taken your line."</p> + +<p>Poor Charles said that no one could conceive what it cost him to give up +what was so very dear to him, what was part of himself; there was +nothing on earth which he prized like his home.</p> + +<p>"Then why do you leave us?" she said quickly; "you must have your way; +you do it, I suppose, because you like it."</p> + +<p>"Oh really, my dear mother," cried he, "if you saw my heart! You know in +Scripture how people were obliged in the Apostles' times to give up all +for Christ."</p> + +<p>"We are heathens, then," she replied; "thank you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">{347}</a></span> Charles, I am obliged +to you for this;" and she dashed away a tear from her eye.</p> + +<p>Charles was almost beside himself; he did not know what to say; he stood +up, and leaned his elbow on the mantelpiece, supporting his head on his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, Charles," she continued, still going on with her work, "perhaps +the day will come" ... her voice faltered; "your dear father" ... she +put down her work.</p> + +<p>"It is useless misery," said Charles; "why should I stay? good-bye for +the present, my dearest mother. I leave you in good hands, not kinder, +but better than mine; you lose me, you gain another. Farewell for the +present; we will meet when you will, when you call; it will be a happy +meeting."</p> + +<p>He threw himself on his knees, and laid his cheek on her lap; she could +no longer resist him; she hung over him, and began to smooth down his +hair as she had done when he was a child. At length scalding tears began +to fall heavily upon his face and neck; he bore them for a while, then +started up, kissed her cheek impetuously, and rushed out of the room. In +a few seconds he had seen and had torn himself from his sisters, and was +in his gig again by the side of his phlegmatic driver, dancing slowly up +and down on his way to Collumpton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">{348}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="three_II" id="three_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> reader may ask whither Charles is going, and, though it would not be +quite true to answer that he did not know better than the said reader +himself, yet he had most certainly very indistinct notions what was +becoming of him even locally, and, like the Patriarch, "went out, not +knowing whither he went." He had never seen a Catholic priest, to know +him, in his life; never, except once as a boy, been inside a Catholic +church; he only knew one Catholic in the world, and where he was he did +not know. But he knew that the Passionists had a Convent in London; and +it was not unnatural that, without knowing whether young Father Aloysius +was there or not, he should direct his course to San Michaele.</p> + +<p>Yet, in kindness to Mary and all of them, he did not profess to be +leaving direct for London; but he proposed to betake himself to Carlton, +who still resided in Oxford, and to ask his advice what was to be done +under his circumstances. It seemed, too, to be interposing what they +would consider a last chance of averting what to them was so dismal a +calamity.</p> + +<p>To Oxford, then, he directed his course; and, having<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">{349}</a></span> some accidental +business at Bath, he stopped there for the night, intending to continue +his journey next morning. Among other jobs, he had to get a "Garden of +the Soul," and two or three similar books which might help him in the +great preparation which awaited his arrival in London. He went into a +religious publisher's in Danvers Street with that object, and while +engaged in a back part of the shop in looking over a pile of Catholic +works, which, to the religious public, had inferior attractions to the +glittering volumes, Evangelical and Anglo-Catholic, which had possession +of the windows and principal table, he heard the shop-door open, and, on +looking round, saw a familiar face. It was that of a young clergyman, +with a very pretty girl on his arm, whom her dress pronounced to be a +bride. Love was in their eyes, joy in their voice, and affluence in +their gait and bearing. Charles had a faintish feeling come over him; +somewhat such as might beset a man on hearing a call for pork-chops when +he was sea-sick. He retreated behind a pile of ledgers and other +stationery, but they could not save him from the low, dulcet tones which +from time to time passed from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"Have you got some of the last Oxford reprints of standard works?" said +the bridegroom to the shopman.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; but which set did you mean? 'Selections from Old Divines,' +or, 'New Catholic Adaptations'?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not the Adaptations," answered he, "they are extremely dangerous; I +mean real Church-of-England divinity—Bull, Patrick, Hooker, and the +rest of them."</p> + +<p>The shopman went to look them out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">{350}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think it was those Adaptations, dearest," said the lady, "that the +Bishop warned us against."</p> + +<p>"Not the Bishop, Louisa; it was his daughter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Primrose, so it was," said she; "and there was one book she +recommended, what was it?"</p> + +<p>"Not a book, it was a speech," said White; "Mr. O'Ballaway's at Exeter +Hall; but I think we should not quite like it."</p> + +<p>"No, no, Henry, it <i>was</i> a book, dear; I can't recall the name."</p> + +<p>"You mean Dr. Crow's 'New Refutation of Popery,' perhaps; but the +<i>Bishop</i> recommended <i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>The shopman returned. "Oh, what a sweet face!" she said, looking at the +frontispiece of a little book she got hold of; "do look, Henry; whom +does it put you in mind of?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's meant for St. John the Baptist," said Henry.</p> + +<p>"It's so like little Angelina Primrose," said she, "the hair is just +hers. I wonder it doesn't strike you."</p> + +<p>"It does—it does," said he, smiling at her; "but it's getting late; you +must not be out much longer in the sharp air, and you have nothing for +your throat. I have chosen my books while you have been gazing on that +little St. John."</p> + +<p>"I can't think who it is so like," continued she; "oh, I know; it's +Angelina's aunt, Lady Constance."</p> + +<p>"Come, <ins class="correction" title="text reads 'Lousia'">Louisa</ins>, the horses too will suffer; we must return to +our friends."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's one book, I can't recollect it; tell me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">{351}</a></span> what it is, Henry. +I shall be so sorry not to have got it."</p> + +<p>"Was it the new work on Gregorian Chants?" asked he.</p> + +<p>"Ah, it's true, I want it for the school-children, but it's not that."</p> + +<p>"Is it 'The Catholic Parsonage'?" he asked again; "or, 'Lays of the +Apostles'? or, 'The English Church older than the Roman'? or, +'Anglicanism of the Early Martyrs'? or, 'Confessions of a Pervert'? or, +'Eustace Beville'? or, 'Modified Celibacy'?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," said Louisa; "dear me, it is so stupid."</p> + +<p>"Well, now really, Louisa," he insisted, "you must come another time; it +won't do, dearest; it won't do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I recollect," she said, "I recollect—'Abbeys and Abbots;' I want +to get some hints for improving the rectory-windows when we get home; +and our church wants, you know, a porch for the poor people. The book is +full of designs."</p> + +<p>The book was found and added to the rest, which had been already taken +to the carriage. "Now, Louisa," said White. "Well, dearest, there's one +more place we must call at," she made answer; "tell John to drive to +Sharp's; we can go round by the nursery—it's only a few steps out of +the way—I want to say a word to the man there about our greenhouse; +there is no good gardener in our own neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"What is the good, Louisa, now?" said her husband; "we shan't be at home +this month to come;" and then, with due resignation, he directed the +coachman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">{352}</a></span> to the nurseryman's whom Louisa named, as he put her into the +carriage, and then followed her.</p> + +<p>Charles breathed freely as they went out; a severe text of Scripture +rose on his mind, but he repressed the uncharitable feeling, and turned +himself to the anxious duties which lay before him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">{353}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="three_III" id="three_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Nothing</span> happened to Charles worth relating before his arrival at +Steventon next day; when, the afternoon being fine, he left his +portmanteau to follow him by the omnibus, and put himself upon the road. +If it required some courage to undertake by himself a long journey on an +all-momentous errand, it did not lessen the difficulty that that journey +took in its way a place and a person so dear to him as Oxford and +Carlton.</p> + +<p>He had passed through Bagley Wood, and the spires and towers of the +University came on his view, hallowed by how many tender associations, +lost to him for two whole years, suddenly recovered—recovered to be +lost for ever! There lay old Oxford before him, with its hills as gentle +and its meadows as green as ever. At the first view of that beloved +place he stood still with folded arms, unable to proceed. Each college, +each church—he counted them by their pinnacles and turrets. The silver +Isis, the grey willows, the far-stretching plains, the dark groves, the +distant range of Shotover, the pleasant village where he had lived with +Carlton and Sheffield—wood, water, stone, all so calm, so bright, they +might have been his, but his they were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">{354}</a></span> not. Whatever he was to gain by +becoming a Catholic, this he had lost; whatever he was to gain higher +and better, at least this and such as this he never could have again. He +could not have another Oxford, he could not have the friends of his +boyhood and youth in the choice of his manhood. He mounted the +well-known gate on the left, and proceeded down into the plain. There +was no one to greet him, to sympathize with him; there was no one to +believe he needed sympathy; no one to believe he had given up anything; +no one to take interest in him, to feel tender towards him, to defend +him. He had suffered much, but there was no one to believe that he had +suffered. He would be thought to be inflicting merely, not undergoing, +suffering. He might indeed say that he had suffered; but he would be +rudely told that every one follows his own will, and that if he had +given up Oxford, it was for a whim which he liked better than it. But +rather, there was no one to know him; he had been virtually three years +away; three years is a generation; Oxford had been his place once, but +his place knew him no more. He recollected with what awe and transport +he had at first come to the University, as to some sacred shrine; and +how from time to time hopes had come over him that some day or other he +should have gained a title to residence on one of its ancient +foundations. One night in particular came across his memory, how a +friend and he had ascended to the top of one of its many towers with the +purpose of making observations on the stars; and how, while his friend +was busily engaged with the pointers, he, earthly-minded youth, had +been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">{355}</a></span> looking down into the deep, gas-lit, dark-shadowed quadrangles, +and wondering if he should ever be Fellow of this or that College, which +he singled out from the mass of academical buildings. All had passed as +a dream, and he was a stranger where he had hoped to have had a home.</p> + +<p>He was drawing near Oxford; he saw along the road before him brisk +youths pass, two and two, with elastic tread, finishing their modest +daily walk, and nearing the city. What had been a tandem a mile back, +next crossed his field of view, shorn of its leader. Presently a stately +cap and gown loomed in the distance; he had gained the road before their +owner crossed him; it was a college-tutor whom he had known a little. +Charles expected to be recognized; but the resident passed by with that +half-conscious, uncertain gaze which seemed to have some memory of a +face which yet was strange. He had passed Folly Bridge; troops of +horsemen overtook him, talking loud, while with easy jaunty pace they +turned into their respective stables. He crossed to Christ Church, and +penetrated to Peckwater. The evening was still bright, and the gas was +lighting. Groups of young men were stationed here and there, the greater +number in hats, a few in caps, one or two with gowns in addition; some +were hallooing up to their companions at the windows of the second +story; scouts were carrying about <i>æger</i> dinners; pastry-cook boys were +bringing in desserts; shabby fellows with Blenheim puppies were +loitering under Canterbury Gate. Many stared, but no one knew him. He +hurried up Oriel Lane; suddenly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">{356}</a></span> a start and a low bow from a passer-by; +who could it be? it was a superannuated shoeblack of his college, to +whom he had sometimes given a stray shilling. He gained the High Street, +and turned down towards the Angel. What was approaching? the vision of a +proctor. Charles felt some instinctive quiverings; but it passed by him, +and did no harm. Like Kehama, he had a charmed life. And now he had +reached his inn, where he found his portmanteau all ready for him. He +chose a bedroom, and, after fully inducting himself into it, turned his +thoughts towards dinner.</p> + +<p>He wished to lose no time, but, if possible, to proceed to London the +following morning. It would be a great point if he could get to his +journey's end so early in the week, that by Sunday, if he was thought +worthy, he might offer up his praises for the mercies vouchsafed to him +in the great and holy communion of the Universal Church. Accordingly he +determined to make an attempt on Carlton that evening; and hoped, if he +went to his room between seven and eight, to find him returned from +Common-Room. With this intention he sallied out at about the half-hour, +gained Carlton's College, knocked at the gate, entered, passed on, up +the worn wooden steep staircase. The oak was closed; he descended, found +a servant; "Mr. Carlton was giving a dinner in Common-Room; it would +soon be over." Charles determined to wait for him.</p> + +<p>The servant lighted candles in the inner room, and Charles sat down at +the fire. For awhile he sat in reflection; then he looked about for +something to occupy him. His eye caught an Oxford paper; it was but a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">{357}</a></span> +few days old. "Let us see how the old place goes on," he said to +himself, as he took it up. He glanced from one article to another, +looking who were the University-preachers of the week, who had taken +degrees, who were public examiners, etc., etc., when his eye was +arrested by the following paragraph:—</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Defection from the Church</span>.—We understand that another victim has +lately been added to the list of those whom the venom of Tractarian +principles has precipitated into the bosom of the Sorceress of +Rome. Mr. Reding, of St. Saviour's, the son of a respectable +clergyman of the Establishment, deceased, after eating the bread of +the Church all his life, has at length avowed himself the subject +and slave of an Italian Bishop. Disappointment in the schools is +said to have been the determining cause of this infatuated act. It +is reported that legal measures are in progress for directing the +penalties of the Statute of Præmunire against all the seceders; and +a proposition is on foot for petitioning her Majesty to assign the +sum thereby realized by the Government to the erection of a +'Martyrs' Memorial' in the sister University."</p> + +<p>"So," thought Charles, "the world, as usual, is beforehand with me;" and +he sat speculating about the origin of the report till he almost forgot +that he was waiting for Carlton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">{358}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="three_IV" id="three_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">While</span> Charles was learning in Carlton's rooms the interest which the +world took in his position and acts, he was actually furnishing a topic +of conversation to that portion of it who were Carlton's guests in the +neighbouring Common-Room. Tea and coffee had made their appearance, the +men had risen from table, and were crowding round the fire.</p> + +<p>"Who is that Mr. Reding spoken of in the <i>Gazette</i> of last week?" said a +prim little man, sipping his tea with his spoon, and rising on his toes +as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"You need not go far for an answer," said his neighbour, and, turning to +their host, added, "Carlton, who is Mr. Reding?"</p> + +<p>"A very dear honest fellow," answered Carlton: "I wish we were all of us +as good. He read with me one Long Vacation, is a good scholar, and ought +to have gained his class. I have not heard of him for some time."</p> + +<p>"He has other friends in the room," said another: "I think," turning to +a young Fellow of Leicester, "<i>you</i>, Sheffield, were at one time +intimate with Reding?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Sheffield; "and Vincent, of course,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">{359}</a></span> knows him too; he's +a capital fellow; I know him exceedingly well; what the <i>Gazette</i> says +about him is shameful. I never met a man who cared less about success in +the schools; it was quite his <i>fault</i>."</p> + +<p>"That's about the truth," said another; "I met Mr. Malcolm yesterday at +dinner, and it seems he knows the family. He said that his religious +notions carried Reding away, and spoiled his reading."</p> + +<p>The conversation was not general; it went on in detached groups, as the +guests stood together. Nor was the subject a popular one; rather it was +either a painful or a disgusting subject to the whole party, two or +three curious and hard minds excepted, to whom opposition to Catholicism +was meat and drink. Besides, in such chance collections of men, no one +knew exactly his neighbour's opinion about it; and, as in this instance, +there were often friends of the accused or calumniated present. And, +moreover, there was a generous feeling, and a consciousness how much +seceders from the Anglican Church were giving up, which kept down any +disrespectful mention of them.</p> + +<p>"Are you to do much in the schools this term?" said one to another.</p> + +<p>"I don't know: we have two men going up, good scholars."</p> + +<p>"Who has come into Stretton's place?"</p> + +<p>"Jackson, of King's."</p> + +<p>"Jackson? indeed; he's strong in science, I think."</p> + +<p>"Very."</p> + +<p>"Our men know their books well, but I should not say that science is +their line."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">{360}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Leicester sends four."</p> + +<p>"It will be a large class-list, from what I hear."</p> + +<p>"Ah! indeed! the Michaelmas paper is always a good one."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the conversation was in another quarter dwelling upon poor +Charles.</p> + +<p>"No, depend upon it, there's more in what the <i>Gazette</i> says than you +think. Disappointment is generally at the bottom of these changes."</p> + +<p>"Poor devils! they can't help it," said another, in a low voice, to his +neighbour.</p> + +<p>"A good riddance, anyhow," said the party addressed; "we shall have a +little peace at last."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the first of the two, drawing himself up and speaking in +the air, "how any educated man should—" his voice was overpowered by +the grave enunciation of a small man behind them, who had hitherto kept +silence, and now spoke with positiveness.</p> + +<p>He addressed himself, between the two heads which had just been talking +in private, to the group beyond them. "It's all the effect of +rationalism," he said; "the whole movement is rationalistic. At the end +of three years all those persons who have now apostatized will be +infidels."</p> + +<p>No one responded; at length another of the party came up to Mr. +Malcolm's acquaintance, and said, slowly, "I suppose you never heard it +hinted that there is something wrong <i>here</i> in Mr. Reding," touching his +forehead significantly; "I have been told it's in the family."</p> + +<p>He was answered by a deep, powerful voice, belonging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">{361}</a></span> to a person who +sat in the corner; it sounded like "the great bell of Bow," as if it +ought to have closed the conversation. It said abruptly, "I respect him +uncommonly; I have an extreme respect for him. He's an honest man; I +wish others were as honest. If they were, then, as the Puseyites are +becoming Catholics, so we should see old Brownside and his clique +becoming Unitarians. But they mean to stick in."</p> + +<p>Most persons present felt the truth of his remark, and a silence +followed it for a while. It was broken by a clear cackling voice: "Did +you ever hear," said he, nodding his head, or rather his whole person, +as he spoke, "did you ever, Sheffield, happen to hear that this +gentleman, your friend Mr. Reding, when he was quite a freshman, had a +conversation with some <i>attaché</i> of the Popish Chapel in this place, at +the very door of it, after the men were gone down?"</p> + +<p>"Impossible, Fusby," said Carlton, and laughed.</p> + +<p>"It's quite true," returned Fusby; "I had it from the Under-Marshal, who +was passing at the moment. My eye has been on Mr. Reding for some +years."</p> + +<p>"So it seems," said Sheffield, "for that must have been at least, let me +see, four or five years ago."</p> + +<p>"Oh," continued Fusby, "there are two or three more yet to come; you +will see."</p> + +<p>"Why, Fusby," said Vincent, overhearing and coming up, "you are like the +three old crones in the Bride of Lammermoor, who wished to have the +straiking of the Master of Ravenswood."</p> + +<p>Fusby nodded his person, but made no answer.</p> + +<p>"Not all three at once, I hope," said Sheffield.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">{362}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, it's quite a concentration, a quintessence of Protestant feeling," +answered Vincent; "I consider <i>myself</i> a good Protestant; but the +pleasure you have in hunting these men is quite sensual, Fusby."</p> + +<p>The Common-Room man here entered, and whispered to Carlton that a +stranger was waiting for him in his rooms.</p> + +<p>"When do your men come up?" said Sheffield to Vincent.</p> + +<p>"Next Saturday," answered Vincent.</p> + +<p>"They always come up late," said Sheffield.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the House met last week."</p> + +<p>"St. Michael's has met too," said Sheffield: "so have we."</p> + +<p>"We have a reason for meeting late: many of our men come from the North +and from Ireland."</p> + +<p>"That's no reason, with railroads."</p> + +<p>"I see they have begun our rail," said Vincent; "I thought the +University had opposed it."</p> + +<p>"The Pope in his own states has given in," said Sheffield, "so we may +well do the same."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk of the Pope," said Vincent, "I'm sick of the Pope."</p> + +<p>"The Pope?" said Fusby, overhearing; "have you heard that his Holiness +is coming to England?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh," cried Vincent, "come, I can't stand this. I must go; good +night t'you, Carlton. Where's my gown?"</p> + +<p>"I believe the Common-Room man has hung it up in the passage;—but you +should stop and protect me from Fusby."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">{363}</a></span></p> + +<p>Neither did Vincent turn to the rescue, nor did Fusby profit by the +hint; so poor Carlton, with the knowledge that he was wanted in his +rooms, had to stay a good half-hour <i>tête-à-tête</i> with the latter, while +he prosed to him <i>in extenso</i> about Pope Sixtus XIV., the Jesuits, +suspected men in the University, Mede on the Apostasy, the Catholic +Relief Bill, Dr. Pusey's Tract on Baptism, Justification, and the +appointment of the Taylor Professors.</p> + +<p>At length, however, Carlton was released. He ran across the quadrangle +and up his staircase; flung open his door, and made his way to his inner +room. A person was just rising to meet him; impossible! but it was +though. "What? Reding!" he cried; "who would have thought! what a +pleasure! we were just— ... What brings you here?" he added, in an +altered tone. Then gravely, "Reding, where are you?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet a Catholic," said Reding.</p> + +<p>There was a silence; the answer conveyed a good deal: it was a relief, +but it was an intimation. "Sit down, my dear Reding; will you have +anything? have you dined? What a pleasure to see you, old fellow! Are we +really to lose you?" They were soon in conversation on the great +subject.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">{364}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="three_V" id="three_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">"If</span> you have made up your mind, Reding," said Carlton, "it's no good +talking. May you be happy wherever you are! You must always be yourself; +as a Romanist, you will still be Charles Reding."</p> + +<p>"I know I have a kind, sympathizing friend in you, Carlton. You have +always listened to me, never snubbed me except when I deserved it. You +know more about me than any one else. Campbell is a dear, good fellow, +and will soon be dearer to me still. It isn't generally known yet, but +he is to marry my sister. He has borne with me now for two years; never +been hard upon me; always been at my service when I wanted to talk with +him. But no one makes me open my heart as you do, Carlton; you sometimes +have differed from me, but you have always understood me."</p> + +<p>"Thank you for your kind words," answered Carlton; "but to me it is a +perfect mystery why you should leave us. I enter into your reasons: I +cannot, for the life of me, see how you come to your conclusion."</p> + +<p>"To me, on the other hand, Carlton, it is like two and two make four; +and you make two and two five, and are astonished that I won't agree +with you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">{365}</a></span></p> + +<p>"We must leave these things to a higher power," said Carlton. "I hope we +sha'n't be less friends, Reding, when you are in another communion. We +know each other; these outward things cannot change us."</p> + +<p>Reding sighed; he saw clearly that his change of religion, when +completed, would not fail to have an effect on Carlton's thoughts about +him, as on those of others. It could not possibly be otherwise; he was +sure himself to feel different about Carlton.</p> + +<p>After a while, Carlton said gently, "Is it quite impossible, Reding, +that now at the eleventh hour we may retain you? what <i>are</i> your +grounds?"</p> + +<p>"Don't let us argue, dear Carlton," answered Reding; "I have done with +argument. Or, if I must say something for manners' sake, I will but tell +you that I have fulfilled your request. You bade me read the Anglican +divines; I have given a great deal of time to them, and I am embracing +that creed which alone is the scope to which they converge in their +separate teachings; the creed which upholds the divinity of tradition +with Laud, consent of Fathers with Beveridge, a visible Church with +Bramhall, dogma with Bull, the authority of the Pope with Thorndike, +penance with Taylor, prayers for the dead with Ussher, celibacy, +asceticism, ecclesiastical discipline with Bingham. I am going to a +Church, which in these, and a multitude of other points, is nearer the +Apostolic Church than any existing one; which is the continuation of the +Apostolic Church, if it has been continued at all. And <i>seeing</i> it to be +<i>like</i> the Apostolic Church, I <i>believe</i> it to be the <i>same</i>. Reason has +gone first, faith is to follow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">{366}</a></span></p> + +<p>He stopped, and Carlton did not reply; a silence ensued, and Charles at +length broke it. "I repeat, it's no use arguing; I have made up my mind, +and been very slow about it. I have broken it to my mother, and bade her +farewell. All is determined; I cannot go back."</p> + +<p>"Is that a nice feeling?" said Carlton, half reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Understand me," answered Reding; "I have come to my resolution with +great deliberation. It has remained on my mind as a mere intellectual +conclusion for a year or two; surely now at length without blame I may +change it into a practical resolve. But none of us can answer that those +habitual and ruling convictions, on which it is our duty to act, will +remain before our consciousness every moment, when we come into the +hurry of the world, and are assailed by inducements and motives of +various kinds. Therefore I say that the time of argument is past; I act +on a conclusion already drawn."</p> + +<p>"But how do you know," asked Carlton, "but what you have been +unconsciously biassed in arriving at it? one notion has possessed you, +and you have not been able to shake it off. The ability to retain your +convictions in the bustle of life is to my mind the very test, the +necessary test of their reality."</p> + +<p>"I do, I do retain them," answered Reding; "they are always upon me."</p> + +<p>"Only at times, as you have yourself confessed," objected Carlton: +"surely you ought to have a very strong conviction indeed, to set +against the mischief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">{367}</a></span> you are doing by a step of this kind. Consider how +many persons you are unsettling; what a triumph you are giving to the +enemies of all religion; what encouragement to the notion that there is +no such thing as truth; how you are weakening our Church. Well, all I +say is, that you should have very strong convictions to set against all +this."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles, "I grant, I maintain, that the only motive which +is sufficient to justify such an act, is the conviction that one's +salvation depends on it. Now, I speak sincerely, my dear Carlton, in +saying that I don't think I shall be saved if I remain in the English +Church."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that there is no salvation in our Church?" said Carlton, +rather coldly.</p> + +<p>"I am talking of myself; it's not my place to judge others. I only say, +God calls <i>me</i>, and I must follow at the risk of my soul."</p> + +<p>"God '<i>calls</i>' you!" said Carlton; "what does that mean? I don't like +it; it's dissenting language."</p> + +<p>"You know it is Scripture language," answered Reding.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but people don't in Scripture <i>say</i> 'I'm called;' the calling was +an act from without, the act of others, not an inward feeling."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Carlton, how <i>is</i> a person to get at truth, now, when +there can be no simple outward call?"</p> + +<p>"That seems to me a pretty good intimation," answered Carlton, "that we +are to remain where Providence has placed us."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">{368}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now this is just one of the points on which I can't get at the bottom +of the Church of England's doctrine," Reding replied. "But it's so on so +many other subjects! it's always so. Are members of the Church of +England to seek the truth, or have they it given them from the first? do +they seek it for themselves, or is it ready provided for them?"</p> + +<p>Carlton thought a moment, and seemed doubtful what to answer; then he +said that we must, of course, seek it. It was a part of our moral +probation to seek the truth.</p> + +<p>"Then don't talk to me about our position," said Charles; "I hardly +expected <i>you</i> to make this answer; but it is what the majority of +Church-of-England people say. They tell us to seek, they give us rules +for seeking, they make us exert our private judgment; but directly we +come to any conclusion but theirs, they turn round and talk to us of our +'providential position.' But there's another thing. Tell me, supposing +we ought all to seek the truth, do you think that members of the English +Church do seek it in that way which Scripture enjoins upon all seekers? +Think how very seriously Scripture speaks of the arduousness of finding, +the labour of seeking, the duty of thirsting after the truth? I don't +believe the bulk of the English clergy, the bulk of Oxford residents, +Heads of houses, Fellows of Colleges (with all their good points, which +I am not the man to deny), have ever sought the truth. They have taken +what they found, and have used no private judgment at all. Or if they +have judged, it has been in the vaguest, most cursory way possible; or +they have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">{369}</a></span> looked into Scripture only to find proofs for what they were +bound to subscribe, as undergraduates getting up the Articles. Then they +sit over their wine, and talk about this or that friend who has +'seceded,' and condemn him, and" (glancing at the newspaper on the +table) "assign motives for his conduct. Yet, after all, which is the +more likely to be right,—he who has given years, perhaps, to the search +of truth, who has habitually prayed for guidance, and has taken all the +means in his power to secure it, or they, 'the gentlemen of England who +sit at home at ease'? No, no, they may talk of seeking the truth, of +private judgment, as a duty, but they have never sought, they have never +judged; they are where they are, not because it is true, but because +they find themselves there, because it is their 'providential position,' +and a pleasant one into the bargain."</p> + +<p>Reding had got somewhat excited; the paragraph in the newspaper had +annoyed him. But, without taking that into account, there was enough in +the circumstances in which he found himself to throw him out of his +ordinary state of mind. He was in a crisis of peculiar trial, which a +person must have felt to understand. Few men go to battle in cold blood, +or prepare without agitation for a surgical operation. Carlton, on the +other hand, was a quiet, gentle person, who was not heard to use an +excited word once a year.</p> + +<p>The conversation came to a stand. At length Carlton said, "I hope, dear +Reding, you are not joining the Church of Rome merely because there are +unreasonable, unfeeling persons in the Church of England."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">{370}</a></span></p> + +<p>Charles felt that he was not showing to advantage, and that he was +giving rise to the very surmises about the motives of his conversion +which he was deprecating.</p> + +<p>"It is a sad thing," he said, with something of self-reproach, "to spend +our last minutes in wrangling. Forgive me, Carlton, if I have said +anything too strongly or earnestly." Carlton thought he had; he thought +him in an excited state; but it was no use telling him so; so he merely +pressed his offered hand affectionately, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>Presently he said, dryly and abruptly, "Reding, do you know any Roman +Catholics?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Reding; "Willis indeed, but I hav'n't seen even him these +two years. It has been entirely the working of my own mind."</p> + +<p>Carlton did not answer at once; then he said, as dryly and abruptly as +before, "I suspect, then, you will have much to bear with when you know +them."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Reding.</p> + +<p>"You will find them under-educated men, I suspect."</p> + +<p>"What do <i>you</i> know of them?" said Reding.</p> + +<p>"I suspect it," answered Carlton.</p> + +<p>"But what's that to the purpose?" asked Charles.</p> + +<p>"It's a thing you should think of. An English clergyman is a gentleman; +you may have more to bear than you reckon for, when you find yourself +with men of rude minds and vulgar manners."</p> + +<p>"My dear Carlton, a'n't you talking of what you know nothing at all +about?"</p> + +<p>"Well, but you should think of it, you should contemplate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">{371}</a></span> it," said +Carlton; "I judge from their letters and speeches which one reads in the +papers."</p> + +<p>Charles thought awhile; then he said, "Certainly, I don't like many +things which are done and said by Roman Catholics just now; but I don't +see how all this can be more than a trial and a cross; I don't see how +it affects the great question."</p> + +<p>"No, except that you may find yourself a fish out of water," answered +Carlton; "you may find yourself in a position where you can act with no +one, where you will be quite thrown away."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles, "as to the fact, I know nothing about it; it may +be as you say, but I don't think much of your proof. In all communities +the worst is on the outside. What offends me in Catholic public +proceedings need be no measure, nay, I believe cannot be a measure, of +the inward Catholic mind. I would not judge the Anglican Church by +Exeter Hall, nay, not by Episcopal Charges. We see the interior of our +own Church, the exterior of the Church of Rome. This is not a fair +comparison."</p> + +<p>"But look at their books of devotion," insisted Carlton; "they can't +write English."</p> + +<p>Reding smiled at Carlton, and slowly shook his head to and fro, while he +said, "They write English, I suppose, as classically as St. John writes +Greek."</p> + +<p>Here again the conversation halted, and nothing was heard for a while +but the simmering of the kettle.</p> + +<p>There was no good in disputing, as might be seen from the first; each +had his own view, and that was the beginning and the end of the matter. +Charles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">{372}</a></span> stood up. "Well, dearest Carlton," he said, "we must part; it +must be going on for eleven." He pulled out of his pocket a small +"Christian Year." "You have often seen me with this," he continued, +"accept it in memory of me. You will not see me, but here is a pledge +that I will not forget you, that I will ever remember you." He stopped, +much affected. "Oh, it is very hard to leave you all, to go to +strangers," he went on; "I do not wish it, but I cannot help it; I am +called, I am compelled." He stopped again; the tears flowed down his +cheeks. "All is well," he said, recovering himself, "all is well; but +it's hard at the time, and scarcely any one to feel for me; black looks, +bitter words.... I am pleasing myself, following my own will ... well +..." and he began looking at his fingers and slowly rubbing his palms +one on another. "It must be," he whispered to himself, "through +tribulation to the kingdom, sowing in tears, reaping in joy...." Another +pause, and a new train of thought came over him; "Oh," he said, "I fear +so very much, so very much, that all you who do not come forward will go +back. You cannot stand where you are; for a time you will think you do, +then you will oppose us, and still think you keep your ground while you +use the same words as before; but your belief, your opinions will +decline. You will hold less. And then, in time, it will strike you that, +in differing with Protestants, you are contending only about words. They +call us Rationalists; take care you don't fall into Liberalism. And now, +my dearest Carlton, my one friend in Oxford who was patient and loving +towards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">{373}</a></span> me, good-bye. May we meet not long hence in peace and joy. I +cannot go to you; you must come to me."</p> + +<p>They embraced each other affectionately; and the next minute Charles was +running down the staircase.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">{374}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="three_VI" id="three_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Charles</span> went to bed with a bad headache, and woke with a worse. Nothing +remained but to order his bill and be off for London. Yet he could not +go without taking a last farewell of the place itself. He was up soon +after seven; and while the gownsmen were rising and in their respective +chapels, he had been round Magdalen Walk and Christ Church Meadow. There +were few or none to see him wherever he went. The trees of the Water +Walk were variegated, as beseemed the time of year, with a thousand +hues, arching over his head, and screening his side. He reached +Addison's Walk; there he had been for the first time with his father, +when he was coming into residence, just six years before to a day. He +pursued it, and onwards still, till he came round in sight of the +beautiful tower, which at length rose close over his head. The morning +was frosty, and there was a mist; the leaves flitted about; all was in +unison with the state of his feelings. He re-entered the monastic +buildings, meeting with nothing but scouts with boxes of cinders, and +old women carrying off the remains of the kitchen. He crossed to the +Meadow, and walked steadily down to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">{375}</a></span> the junction of the Cherwell with +the Isis; he then turned back. What thoughts came upon him! for the last +time! There was no one to see him; he threw his arms round the willows +so dear to him, and kissed them; he tore off some of their black leaves +and put them in his bosom. "I am like Undine," he said, "killing with a +kiss. No one cares for me; scarce a person knows me." He neared the Long +Walk again. Suddenly, looking obliquely into it, he saw a cap and gown; +he looked anxiously; it was Jennings: there was no mistake; and his +direction was towards him. Charles always had felt kindly towards him, +in spite of his sternness, but he would not meet him for the world; what +was he to do? he stood behind a large elm, and let him pass; then he set +off again at a quick pace. When he had got some way, he ventured to turn +his head round; and he saw Jennings at the moment, by that sort of +fatality or sympathy which is so common, turning round towards him. He +hurried on, and soon found himself again at his inn.</p> + +<p>Strange as it may seem, though he had on the whole had as good success +as Carlton in the "keen encounter of their wits" the night before, it +had left an unsatisfactory effect on his mind. The time for action was +come; argument was past, as he had himself said; and to recur to +argument was only to confuse the clearness of his apprehension of the +truth. He began to question whether he really had evidence enough for +the step he was taking, and the temptation assailed him that he was +giving up this world without gaining the next. Carlton evidently thought +him excited; what if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">{376}</a></span> it were true? Perhaps his convictions were, after +all, a dream; what did they rest upon? He tried to recall his best +arguments, and could not. Was there, after all, any such thing as truth? +Was not one thing as good as another? At all events, could he not have +served God well in his generation, where he had been placed? He +recollected some lines in the Ethics of Aristotle, quoted by the +philosopher from an old poet, in which the poor outcast Philoctetes +laments over his own stupid officiousness, as he calls it, which had +been the cause of his misfortunes. Was he not a busybody too? Why could +he not let well alone? Better men than he had lived and died in the +English Church. And then what if, as Campbell had said, all his +so-called convictions were to vanish just as he entered the Roman pale, +as they had done on his father's death? He began to envy Sheffield; all +had turned out well with him—a good class, a fellowship, merely or +principally because he had taken things as they came, and not gone +roaming after visions. He felt himself violently assaulted; but he was +not deserted, not overpowered. His good sense, rather his good Angel, +came to his aid; evidently he was in no way able to argue or judge at +that moment; the deliberate conclusions of years ought not to be set +aside by the troubled thoughts of an hour. With an effort he put the +whole subject from him, and addressed himself to his journey.</p> + +<p>How he got to Steventon he hardly recollected; but gradually he came to +himself, and found himself in a first-class of the Great Western, +proceeding rapidly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">{377}</a></span> towards London. He then looked about him to +ascertain who his fellow-travellers were. The farther compartment was +full of passengers, who seemed to form one party, talking together with +great volubility and glee. Of the three seats in his own part of the +carriage, one only, that opposite to him, was filled. On taking a survey +of the stranger, he saw a grave person passing or past the middle age; +his face had that worn, or rather that unplacid appearance, which even +slight physical suffering, if habitual, gives to the features, and his +eyes were pale from study or other cause. Charles thought he had seen +his face before, but he could not recollect where or when. But what most +interested him was his dress and appearance, which was such as is rarely +found in a travelling-companion. It was of an unusual character, and, +taken together with the small office-book he held in his hand, plainly +showed Charles that he was opposite a Roman ecclesiastic. His heart +beat, and he felt tempted to start from his seat; then a sick feeling +and a sinking came over him. He gradually grew calmer, and journeyed on +some time in silence, longing yet afraid to speak. At length, on the +train stopping at the station, he addressed a few words to him in +French. His companion looked surprised, smiled, and in a hesitating, +saddish voice said that he was an Englishman. Charles made an awkward +apology, and there was silence again. Their eyes sometimes met, and then +moved slowly off each other, as if a mutual reconnoitring was in +progress. At length it seemed to strike the stranger that he had +abruptly stopped the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">{378}</a></span> conversation; and, after apparently beating about +for an introductory topic, he said, "Perhaps I can read you, sir, better +than you can me. You are an Oxford man by your appearance."</p> + +<p>Charles assented.</p> + +<p>"A bachelor?" He was of near Master's standing. His companion, who did +not seem in a humour for talking, proceeded to various questions about +the University, as if out of civility. What colleges sent Proctors that +year? Were the Taylor Professors appointed? Were they members of the +Church of England? Did the new Bishop of Bury keep his Headship? &c., +&c. Some matter-of-fact conversation followed, which came to nothing. +Charles had so much to ask; his thoughts were busy, and his mind full. +Here was a Catholic priest ready for his necessities; yet the +opportunity was likely to pass away, and nothing to come of it. After +one or two fruitless efforts, he gave it up, and leant back in his seat. +His fellow-traveller began, as quietly as he could, to say office. Time +went forward, the steam was let off and put on; the train stopped and +proceeded, and the office was apparently finished; the book vanished in +a side-pocket.</p> + +<p>After a time Charles suddenly said, "How came you to suppose I was of +Oxford?"</p> + +<p>"Not <i>entirely</i> by your look and manner, for I saw you jump from the +omnibus at Steventon; but with that assistance it was impossible to +mistake."</p> + +<p>"I have heard others say the same," said Charles; "yet I can't myself +make out how an Oxford man should be known from another."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">{379}</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not only Oxford men, but Cambridge men, are known by their appearance; +soldiers, lawyers, beneficed clergymen; indeed every class has its +external indications to those who can read them."</p> + +<p>"I know persons," said Charles, "who believe that handwriting is an +indication of calling and character."</p> + +<p>"I do not doubt it," replied the priest; "the gait is another; but it is +not all of us who can read so recondite a language. Yet a language it +is, as really as hieroglyphics on an obelisk."</p> + +<p>"It is a fearful thought," said Charles with a sigh, "that we, as it +were, exhale ourselves every breath we draw."</p> + +<p>The stranger assented; "A man's moral self," he said, "is concentrated +in each moment of his life; it lives in the tips of his fingers, and the +spring of his insteps. A very little thing tries what a man is made of."</p> + +<p>"I think I must be speaking to a Catholic priest?" said Charles: when +his question was answered in the affirmative, he went on hesitatingly to +ask if what they had been speaking of did not illustrate the importance +of faith? "One did not see at first sight," he said, "how it was +rational to maintain that so much depended on holding this or that +doctrine, or a little more or a little less, but it might be a test of +the heart."</p> + +<p>His companion looked pleased; however, he observed, that "there was no +'more or less' in faith; that either we believed the whole revealed +message, or really we believed no part of it; that we ought to believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">{380}</a></span> +what the Church proposed to us on the <i>word</i> of the Church."</p> + +<p>"Yet surely the so-called Evangelical believes more than the Unitarian, +and the High-Churchman than the Evangelical," objected Charles.</p> + +<p>"The question," said his fellow-traveller, "is, whether they submit +their reason implicitly to that which they have received as God's word."</p> + +<p>Charles assented.</p> + +<p>"Would you say, then," he continued, "that the Unitarian really believes +as God's word that which he professes to receive, when he passes over +and gets rid of so much that is in that word?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"And why?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is plain," said Charles, "that his ultimate standard of +truth is not the Scripture, but, unconsciously to himself, some view of +things in his mind which is to him the measure of Scripture."</p> + +<p>"Then he believes himself, if we may so speak," said the priest, "and +not the external word of God."</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Well, in like manner," he continued, "do you think a person can have +real faith in that which he admits to be the word of God, who passes by, +without attempting to understand, such passages as 'the Church the +pillar and ground of the truth;' or, 'whosesoever sins ye forgive, they +are forgiven;' or, 'if any man is sick, let him call for the priests of +the Church, and let them anoint him with oil'?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">{381}</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said Charles; "but, in fact, <i>we</i> do not profess to have faith in +the mere text of Scripture. You know, sir," he added hesitatingly, "that +the Anglican doctrine is to interpret Scripture by the Church; therefore +we have faith, like Catholics, not in Scripture simply, but in the whole +word committed to the Church, of which Scripture is a part."</p> + +<p>His companion smiled: "How many," he asked, "so profess? But, waiving +this question, I understand what a Catholic means by saying that he goes +by the voice of the Church; it means, practically, by the voice of the +first priest he meets. Every priest is the voice of the Church. This is +quite intelligible. In matters of doctrine, he has faith in the word of +any priest. But what, where, is that 'word' of the Church which the +persons you speak of believe in? and when do they exercise their belief? +Is it not an undeniable fact, that, so far from all Anglican clergymen +agreeing together in faith, what the first says, the second will unsay? +so that an Anglican cannot, if he would, have faith in them, and +necessarily, though he would not, chooses between them. How, then, has +faith a place in the religion of an Anglican?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles, "I am sure I know a good many persons—and if you +knew the Church of England as I do, you would not need me to tell +you—who, from knowledge of the Gospels, have an absolute conviction and +an intimate sense of the reality of the sacred facts contained in them, +which, whether you call it faith or not, is powerful enough to colour +their whole being with its influence, and rules their heart and conduct +as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">{382}</a></span> well as their imagination. I can't believe that these persons are +out of God's favour; yet, according to your account of the matter, they +have not faith."</p> + +<p>"Do you think these persons believe and practise all that is brought +home to them as being in Scripture?" asked his companion.</p> + +<p>"Certainly they do," answered Charles, "as far as man can judge."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps they may be practising the virtue of faith; if there are +passages in it to which they are insensible, as about the sacraments, +penance, and extreme unction, or about the See of Peter, I should in +charity think that these passages had never been brought home or applied +to their minds and consciences—just as a Pope's Bull may be for a time +unknown in a distant part of the Church. They may be<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> in involuntary +ignorance. Yet I fear that, taking the whole nation, there are few who +on this score can lay claim to faith."</p> + +<p>Charles said this did not fully meet the difficulty; faith, in the case +of these persons, at least was not faith in the word of the Church. His +companion would not allow this; he said they received the Scripture on +the testimony of the Church, that at least they were believing the word +of God, and the like.</p> + +<p>Presently Charles said, "It is to me a great mystery how the English +people, as a whole, is ever to have faith again; is there evidence +enough for faith?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">{383}</a></span></p> + +<p>His new friend looked surprised and not over-pleased; "Surely," he said, +"in matter of fact, a man may have more <i>evidence</i> for believing the +Church to be the messenger of God, than he has for believing the four +Gospels to be from God. If, then, he already believes the latter, why +should he not believe the former?"</p> + +<p>"But the belief in the Gospels is a traditional belief," said Charles; +"that makes all the difference. I cannot see how a nation like England, +which has lost the faith, ever can recover it. Hence, in the matter of +conversion, Providence has generally visited simple and barbarous +nations."</p> + +<p>"The converts of the Roman Empire were, I suppose, a considerable +exception," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"Still, it seems to me a great difficulty," answered Charles; "I do not +see, when the dogmatic structure is once broken down, how it is ever to +be built up again. I fancy there is a passage somewhere in Carlyle's +'French Revolution' on the subject, in which the author laments over the +madness of men's destroying what they could not replace, what it would +take centuries and a strange combination of fortunate circumstances to +reproduce, an external received creed. I am not denying, God forbid! the +objectivity of revelation, or saying that faith is a sort of happy and +expedient delusion; but, really, the evidence for revealed doctrine is +so built up on probabilities that I do not see what is to introduce it +into a civilized community, where reason has been cultivated to the +utmost, and argument is the test of truth. Many a man will say, 'Oh, +that I had been educated a Catholic!' but he has not so been; and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">{384}</a></span> +finds himself unable, though wishing, to believe, for he has not +evidence enough to subdue his reason. What is to make him believe?"</p> + +<p>His fellow-traveller had for some time shown signs of uneasiness; when +Charles stopped, he said, shortly, but quietly, "What is to make him +believe! the <i>will</i>, his <i>will</i>."</p> + +<p>Charles hesitated; he proceeded; "If there is evidence enough to believe +Scripture, and we see that there is, I repeat, there is more than enough +to believe the Church. The evidence is not in fault; all it requires is +to be brought home or applied to the mind; if belief does not then +follow, the fault lies with the will."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles, "I think there is a general feeling among educated +Anglicans, that the claims of the Roman Church do not rest on a +sufficiently intellectual basis; that the evidences, or notes, were well +enough for a rude age, not for this. This is what makes me despair of +the growth of Catholicism."</p> + +<p>His companion looked round curiously at him, and then said, quietly, +"Depend upon it, there is quite evidence enough for a <i>moral conviction</i> +that the Catholic or Roman Church, and none other, is the voice of God."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean," said Charles, with a beating heart, "that before +conversion one can attain to a present abiding actual conviction of this +truth?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," answered the other; "but, at least, he may have +habitual <i>moral certainty</i>; I mean, a conviction, and one only, steady, +without rival conviction, or even reasonable doubt, present to him when +he is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">{385}</a></span> most composed and in his hours of solitude, and flashing on him +from time to time, as through clouds, when he is in the world;—a +conviction to this effect, 'The Roman Catholic Church is the one only +voice of God, the one only way of salvation.'"</p> + +<p>"Then you mean to say," said Charles, while his heart beat faster, "that +such a person is under no duty to wait for clearer light."</p> + +<p>"He will not have, he cannot expect, clearer light before conversion. +Certainty, in its highest sense, is the reward of those who, by an act +of the will, and at the dictate of reason and prudence, embrace the +truth, when nature, like a coward, shrinks. You must make a venture; +faith is a venture before a man is a Catholic; it is a gift after it. +You approach the Church in the way of reason, you enter into it in the +light of the Spirit."</p> + +<p>Charles said that he feared there was a great temptation operating on +many well-informed and excellent men, to find fault with the evidence +for Catholicity, and to give over the search, on the excuse that there +were arguments on both sides.</p> + +<p>"It is not one set of men," answered his companion; "it is the grievous +deficiency in Englishmen altogether. Englishmen have many gifts, faith +they have not. Other nations, inferior to them in many things, still +have faith. Nothing will stand in place of it; not a sense of the beauty +of Catholicism, or of its awfulness, or of its antiquity; not an +appreciation of the sympathy which it shows towards sinners: not an +admiration of the Martyrs and early Fathers, and a delight in their +writings. Individuals may display a touching gentleness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">{386}</a></span> or a +conscientiousness which demands our reverence; still, till they have +faith, they have not the foundation, and their superstructure will fall. +They will not be blessed, they will effect nothing in religious matters, +till they begin by an act of unreserved faith in the word of God, +whatever it be; till they go out of themselves; till they cease to make +something within them their standard, till they oblige their will to +perfect what reason leaves sufficient, indeed, but incomplete. And when +they shall recognize this defect in themselves, and try to remedy it, +then they will recognize much more;—they will be on the road very +shortly to be Catholics."</p> + +<p>There was nothing in all this exactly new to Reding; but it was pleasant +to hear it from the voice of another, and him a priest. Thus he had +sympathy and authority, and felt he was restored to himself. The +conversation stopped. After a while he disclosed to his new friend the +place for which he was bound, which, after what Charles had already been +saying, could be no great surprise to him. The latter knew the Superior +of San Michaele, and, taking out a card, wrote upon it a few words of +introduction for him. By this time they had reached Paddington; and +scarcely had the train stopped, when the priest took his small +carpet-bag from under his seat, wrapped his cloak around him, stepped +out of the carriage, and was walking out of sight at a brisk pace.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> "Errantes invincibiliter circa aliquos articulos, et +credentes alios, non sunt formaliter hæretici, sed habent fidem +supernaturalem, quâ credunt veros articulos, atque adeo ex eâ possunt +procedere actus perfectæ contritionis, quibus justificentur et +salventur."—<i>De Lugo de Fid.</i>, p. 169.</p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">{387}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="three_VII" id="three_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Reding</span> naturally wished to take the important step he was meditating as +quietly as he could; and had adopted what he considered satisfactory +measures for this purpose. But such arrangements often turn out very +differently from their promise; and so it was in his case.</p> + +<p>The Passionist House was in the eastern part of London; so far +well;—and as he knew in the neighbourhood a respectable publisher in +the religious line, with whom his father had dealt, he had written to +him to bespeak a room in his house for the few days which he trusted +would suffice for the process of his reception. What was to happen to +him after it, he left for the advice he might get from those in whose +hands he found himself. It was now Wednesday; he hoped to have two days +to prepare himself for his confession, and then he proposed to present +himself before those who were to receive it. His better plan would have +been to have gone to the Religious House at once, where doubtless the +good fathers would have lodged him, secured him from intrusion, and +given him the best advice how to proceed. But we must indulge him, if, +doing so great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">{388}</a></span> a work, he likes to do it in his own way; nor must we be +hard on him, though it be not the best way.</p> + +<p>On arriving at his destination, he saw in the deportment of his host +grounds for concluding that his coming was not only expected, but +understood. Doubtless, then, the paragraph of the <i>Oxford Gazette</i> had +been copied into the London papers; nor did it relieve his unpleasant +surprise to find, as he passed to his room, that the worthy bibliopolist +had a reading-room attached to his shop, which was far more perilous to +his privacy than a coffee-room would have been. He was not obliged, +however, to mix with the various parties who seemed to frequent it; and +he determined as far as possible to confine himself to his apartment. +The rest of the day he employed in writing letters to friends: his +conversation of the morning had tranquillized him; he went to bed +peaceful and happy, slept soundly, rose late, and, refreshed in mind and +body, turned his thoughts to the serious duties of the day.</p> + +<p>Breakfast over, he gave a considerable time to devotional exercises, and +then, opening his writing-desk, addressed himself to his work. Hardly +had he got into it when his landlord made his appearance; and, with many +apologies for his intrusion, and a hope that he was not going to be +impertinent, proceeded to inquire if Mr. Reding was a Catholic. "The +question had been put to him, and he thought he might venture to solicit +an answer from the person who could give the most authentic +information." Here was an interruption, vexatious in itself, and +perplexing in the form in which it came upon him; it would be absurd to +reply that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">{389}</a></span> was on the point of <i>becoming</i> a Catholic, so he shortly +answered in the negative. Mr. Mumford then informed him that there were +two friends of Mr. Reding's below, who wished very much to have a few +minutes' conversation with him. Charles could make no intelligible +objection to the request; and in the course of a few minutes their knock +was heard at the room-door.</p> + +<p>On his answering it, two persons presented themselves, apparently both +strangers to him. This, however, at the moment was a relief; for vague +fears and surmises had begun to flit across his mind as to the faces +which were to make their appearance. The younger of the two, who had +round full cheeks, with a boyish air, and a shrill voice, advanced +confidently, and seemed to expect a recognition. It broke upon Charles +that he had seen him before, but he could not tell where. "I ought to +know your face," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Reding," answered the person addressed, "you may recollect me +at College."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I remember perfectly," said Reding; "Jack the kitchen-boy at St. +Saviour's."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jack; "I came when young Tom was promoted into Dennis's +place."</p> + +<p>Then he added, with a solemn shake of the head, "<i>I</i> have got promotion +now."</p> + +<p>"So it seems, Jack," answered Reding; "but what are you? Speak."</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir," said Jack, "we must converse in a tone of befitting +seriousness;" and he added, in a deep inarticulate voice, his lips not +being suffered to meet together, "Sir, I stand next to an Angel now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">{390}</a></span></p> + +<p>"A what? Angel? Oh, I know," cried Charles, "it's some sect; the +Sandemanians."</p> + +<p>"Sandemanians!" interrupted Jack; "we hold them in abhorrence; they are +levellers; they bring in disorder and every evil work."</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, but I know it is some sect, though I don't recollect +what. I've heard about it. Well, tell me, Jack, what are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am," answered Jack, as if he were confessing at the tribunal of a +Proprætor, "I am a member of the Holy Catholic Church."</p> + +<p>"That's right, Jack," said Reding; "but it's not distinctive enough; so +are we all; every one will say as much."</p> + +<p>"Hear me out, Mr. Reding, sir," answered Jack, waving his hand; "hear +me, but strike; I repeat, I am a member of the Holy Catholic Church, +assembling in Huggermugger Lane."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Charles, "I see; that's what the 'gods' call you; now, what +do men?"</p> + +<p>"Men," said Jack, not understanding, however, the allusion—"men call us +Christians, professing the opinions of the late Rev. Edward Irving, +B.D."</p> + +<p>"I understand perfectly now," said Reding; "Irvingites—I recollect."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," he said, "not Irvingites; we do not follow man; we follow +wherever the Spirit leads us; we have given up Tongue. But I ought to +introduce you to my friend, who is more than an Angel," he proceeded +modestly, "who has more than the tongue of men and angels, being nothing +short of an Apostle, sir. Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">{391}</a></span> Reding, here's the Rev. Alexander +Highfly. Mr. Highfly, this is Mr. Reding."</p> + +<p>Mr. Highfly was a man of gentlemanlike appearance and manner; his +language was refined, and his conduct was delicate; so much so that +Charles at once changed his tone in speaking to him. He came to Mr. +Reding, he said, from a sense of duty; and there was nothing in his +conversation to clash with that profession. He explained that he had +heard of Mr. Reding's being unsettled in his religious views, and he +would not lose the opportunity of attempting so valuable an accession to +the cause to which he had dedicated himself.</p> + +<p>"I see," said Charles, smiling, "I am in the market."</p> + +<p>"It is the bargain of Glaucus with Diomede," answered Mr. Highfly, "for +which I am asking your co-operation. I am giving you the fellowship of +Apostles."</p> + +<p>"It is, I recollect, one of the characteristics of your body," said +Charles, "to have an order of Apostles, in addition to Bishops, Priests, +and Deacons."</p> + +<p>"Rather," said his visitor, "it is the special characteristic; for we +acknowledge the orders of the Church of England. We are but completing +the Church system by restoring the Apostolic College."</p> + +<p>"What I should complain of," said Charles, "were I at all inclined to +listen to your claims, would be the very different views which different +members of your body put forward."</p> + +<p>"You must recollect, sir," answered Mr. Highfly, "that we are under +Divine teaching, and that truth is but gradually communicated to the +Church. We do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">{392}</a></span> not pledge ourselves what we shall believe to-morrow by +anything we say to-day."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered Reding, "things have been said to me by your +teachers which I must suppose were only private opinions, though they +seemed to be more."</p> + +<p>"But I was saying," said Mr. Highfly, "that at present we are restoring +the Gentile Apostolate. The Church of England has Bishops, Priests, and +Deacons, but a Scriptural Church has more; it is plain it ought to have +Apostles. In Scripture Apostles had the supreme authority, and the three +Anglican orders were but subordinate to them."</p> + +<p>"I am disposed to agree with you there," said Charles. Mr. Highfly +looked surprised and pleased. "We are restoring," he said, "the Church +to a more Scriptural state; perhaps, then, we may reckon on your +co-operation in doing so? We do not ask you to secede from the +Establishment, but to acknowledge the Apostolic authority to which all +ought to submit."</p> + +<p>"But does it not strike you, Mr. Highfly," answered Reding, "that there +<i>is</i> a body of Christians, and not an inconsiderable one, which +maintains with you, and, what is more, has always preserved, that true +and higher Apostolic succession in the Church; a body, I mean, which, in +addition to Episcopacy, believes that there is a standing ordinance +above Episcopacy, and gives it the name of the Apostolate?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," answered Mr. Highfly, "I consider that we are +restoring what has lain dormant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">{393}</a></span> ever since the time of St. Paul; nay, I +will say it is an ordinance which never has been carried into effect at +all, though it was in the Divine design from the first. You will observe +that the Apostles were Jews; but there never has been a Gentile +Apostolate. St. Paul indeed was Apostle of the Gentiles, but the design +begun in him has hitherto been frustrated. He went up to Jerusalem +against the solemn warning of the Spirit; now we are raised up to +complete that work of the Spirit, which was stopped by the inadvertence +of the first Apostle."</p> + +<p>Jack interposed: he should be very glad, he said, to know what religious +persuasion it was, besides his own, which Mr. Reding considered to have +preserved the succession of Apostles as something distinct from Bishops.</p> + +<p>"It is quite plain whom I mean—The Catholics," answered Charles. "The +Popedom is the true Apostolate, the Pope is the successor of the +Apostles, particularly of St. Peter."</p> + +<p>"We are very well inclined to the Roman Catholics," answered Mr. +Highfly, with some hesitation; "we have adopted a great part of their +ritual; but we are not accustomed to consider that we resemble them in +what is our characteristic and cardinal tenet."</p> + +<p>"Allow me to say it, Mr. Highfly," said Reding, "it is a reason why +every Irvingite—I mean every member of your denomination—should become +a Catholic. Your own religious sense has taught you that there ought to +be an Apostolate in the Church. You consider that the authority of the +Apostles was not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">{394}</a></span> temporary, but essential and fundamental. What that +authority was, we see in St. Paul's conduct towards St. Timothy. He +placed him in the see of Ephesus, he sent him a charge, and, in fact, he +was his overseer or Bishop. He had the care of all the Churches. Now, +this is precisely the power which the Pope claims, and has ever claimed; +and, moreover, he has claimed it, as being the <i>successor</i>, and the sole +proper successor of the Apostles, though Bishops may be improperly such +also.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> And hence Catholics call him Vicar of Christ, Bishop of +Bishops, and the like; and, I believe, consider that he, in a +pre-eminent sense, is the one pastor or ruler of the Church, the source +of jurisdiction, the judge of controversies, and the centre of unity, as +having the powers of the Apostles, and specially of St. Peter."</p> + +<p>Mr. Highfly kept silence.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think, then, it would be well," continued Charles, "that, +before coming to convert me, you should first join the Catholic Church? +at least, you would urge your doctrine upon me with more authority if +you came as a member of it. And I will tell you frankly, that you would +find it easier to convert me to Catholicism than to your present +persuasion."</p> + +<p>Jack looked at Mr. Highfly, as if hoping for some decisive reply to what +was a new view to him; but Mr. Highfly took a different line. "Well, +sir," he said, "I do not see that any good will come by our continuing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">{395}</a></span> +the interview; but your last remark leads me to observe that +<i>proselytism</i> was not our object in coming here. We did not propose more +than to <i>inform</i> you that a great work was going on, to direct your +attention to it, and to invite your co-operation. We do not controvert; +we only wish to deliver our testimony, and there to leave the matter. I +believe, then, we need not take up your valuable time longer." With that +he got up, and Jack with him, and, with many courteous bows and smiles, +which were duly responded to by Reding, the two visitors took their +departure.</p> + +<p>"Well, I might have been worse off," thought Reding; "really they are +gentle, well-mannered creatures, after all. I might have been attacked +by some of your furious Exeter-Hall beasts; but now to business.... +What's that?" he added. Alas, it was a soft, distinct tap at the door; +there was no mistake. "Who's there? come in!" he cried; upon which the +door gently opened, and a young lady, not without attractions of person +and dress, presented herself. Charles started up with vexation; but +there was no help for it, and he was obliged to hand her a chair, and +then to wait, all expectation, or rather all impatience, to be informed +of her mission. For a while she did not speak, but sat, with her head on +one side, looking at her parasol, the point of which she fixed on the +carpet, while she slowly described a circumference with the handle. At +length she asked, without raising her eyes, whether it was true—and she +spoke slowly and in what is called a spiritual tone—whether it was +true, the information had been given her, that Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">{396}</a></span> Reding, the +gentleman she had the honour of addressing—whether it was true, that he +was in search of a religion more congenial to his feelings than that of +the Church of England? "Mr. Reding could not give her any satisfaction +on the subject of her inquiry;"—he answered shortly, and had some +difficulty in keeping from rudeness in his tone. The interrogation, she +went on to say, perhaps might seem impertinent; but she had a motive. +Some dear sisters of hers were engaged in organizing a new religious +body, and Mr. Reding's accession, counsel, assistance, would be +particularly valuable; the more so, because as yet they had not any +gentleman of University education among them.</p> + +<p>"May I ask," said Charles, "the name of the intended persuasion?"</p> + +<p>"The name," she answered, "is not fixed; indeed, this is one of the +points on which we should covet the privilege of the advice of a +gentleman so well qualified as Mr. Reding to assist us in our +deliberations."</p> + +<p>"And your tenets, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Here, too," she replied, "there is much still to be done; the tenets +are not fixed either, that is, they are but sketched; and we shall prize +your suggestions much. Nay, you will of course have the opportunity, as +you would have the right, to nominate any doctrine to which you may be +especially inclined."</p> + +<p>Charles did not know how to answer to so liberal an offer.</p> + +<p>She continued: "Perhaps it is right, Mr. Reding, that I should tell you +something more about myself personally. I was born in the communion of +the Church<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">{397}</a></span> of England; for a while I was a member of the New Connexion; +and after that," she added, still with drooping head and languid +sing-song voice, "after that, I was a Plymouth brother." It got too +absurd; and Charles, who had for an instant been amused, now became full +of the one thought, how to get her out of the room.</p> + +<p>It was obviously left to her to keep up the conversation: so she said +presently, "We are all for a pure religion."</p> + +<p>"From what you tell me," said Charles, "I gather that every member of +your new community is allowed to name one or two doctrines of his own."</p> + +<p>"We are all scriptural," she made answer, "and therefore are all one; we +may differ, but we agree. Still it is so, as you say, Mr. Reding. I'm +for election and assurance; our dearest friend is for perfection; and +another sweet sister is for the second advent. But we desire to include +among us all souls who are thirsting after the river of life, whatever +their personal views. I believe you are partial to sacraments and +ceremonies?"</p> + +<p>Charles tried to cut short the interview by denying that he had any +religion to seek after, or any decision to make; but it was easier to +end the conversation than the visit. He threw himself back in his chair +in despair, and half closed his eyes. "Oh, those good Irvingites," he +thought, "blameless men, who came only to protest, and vanished at the +first word of opposition; but now thrice has the church-clock struck the +quarters since her entrance, and I don't see why she's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">{398}</a></span> not to stop here +as long as it goes on striking, since she has stopped so long. She has +not in her the elements of progress and decay. She'll never die; what is +to become of me?"</p> + +<p>Nor was she doomed to find a natural death; for, when the case seemed +hopeless, a noise was heard on the staircase, and, with scarcely the +apology for a knock, a wild gawky man made his appearance, and at once +cried out, "I hope, sir, it's not a bargain yet; I hope it's not too +late; discharge this young woman, Mr. Reding, and let me teach you the +old truth, which never has been repealed."</p> + +<p>There was no need of discharging her; for as kindly as she had unfolded +her leaves and flourished in the sun of Reding's forbearance, so did she +at once shrink and vanish—one could hardly tell how—before the rough +accents of the intruder; and Charles suddenly found himself in the hands +of a new tormentor. "This is intolerable," he said to himself; and, +jumping up, he cried, "Sir, excuse me, I am particularly engaged this +morning, and I must beg to decline the favour of your visit."</p> + +<p>"What did you say, sir?" said the stranger; and, taking a note-book and +a pencil from his pocket, he began to look up in Charles's face and +write down his words, saying half aloud, as he wrote, "Declines the +favour of my visit." Then he looked up again, keeping his pencil upon +his paper, and said, "Now, sir."</p> + +<p>Reding moved towards him, and, spreading his arms as one drives sheep +and poultry in one direction, he repeated, looking towards the door, +"Really, sir, I feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">{399}</a></span> the honour of your call; but another day, sir, +another day. It is too much, too much."</p> + +<p>"Too much?" said the intruder; "and I waiting below so long! That dainty +lady has been good part of an hour here, and now you can't give me five +minutes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Why, sir," answered Charles, "I am sure you are come on an errand as +fruitless as hers; and I am sick of these religious discussions, and +want to be to myself, and to save you trouble."</p> + +<p>"Sick of religions discussions," said the stranger to himself, as he +wrote down the words in his note-book. Charles did not deign to notice +his act or to explain his own expression; he stood prepared to renew his +action of motioning him to the door. His tormentor then said, "You may +like to know my name; it is Zerubbabel."</p> + +<p>Vexed as Reding was, he felt that he had no right to visit the +tediousness of his former visitor upon his present; so he forced himself +to reply, "Zerubbabel; indeed; and is Zerubbabel your Christian name, +sir, or your surname?"</p> + +<p>"It is both at once, Mr. Reding," answered Zerubbabel, "or rather, I +have no Christian name, and Zerubbabel is my one Jewish designation."</p> + +<p>"You are come, then, to inquire whether I am likely to become a Jew."</p> + +<p>"Stranger things have happened," answered his visitor; "for instance, I +myself was once a deacon in the Church of England."</p> + +<p>"Then you are not a Jew?" said Charles.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">{400}</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am a Jew by choice," he said; "after much prayer and study of +Scripture, I have come to the conclusion that, as Judaism was the first +religion, so it's to be the last. Christianity I consider an episode in +the history of revelation."</p> + +<p>"You are not likely to have many followers in such a belief," said +Charles; "we are all for progress now, not for retrograding."</p> + +<p>"I differ from you, Mr. Reding," said Zerubbabel; "see what the +Establishment is doing; it has sent a Bishop to Jerusalem."</p> + +<p>"That is rather with the view of making the Jews Christians than the +Christians Jews," said Reding.</p> + +<p>Zerubbabel wrote down: "Thinks Bishop of Jerusalem is to convert the +Jews;" then, "I differ from you, sir; on the contrary, I fancy the +excellent Bishop has in view to revive the distinction between Jew and +Gentile, which is one step towards the supremacy of the former; for if +the Jews have a place at all in Christianity, as Jews, it must be the +first place."</p> + +<p>Charles thought he had better let him have his talk out; so Zerubbabel +proceeded: "The good Bishop in question knows well that the Jew is the +elder brother of the Gentile, and it is his special mission to restore a +Jewish episcopate to the See of Jerusalem. The Jewish succession has +been suspended since the time of the Apostles. And now you see the +reason of my calling on you, Mr. Reding. It is reported that you lean +towards the Catholic Church; but I wish to suggest to you that you have +mistaken the centre of unity. The See of James at Jerusalem is the true +centre, not the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">{401}</a></span> See of Peter at Rome. Peter's power is a usurpation on +James's. I consider the present Bishop of Jerusalem the true Pope. The +Gentiles have been in power too long; it is now the Jews' turn."</p> + +<p>"You seem to allow," said Charles, "that there ought to be a centre of +unity and a Pope."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Zerubbabel, "and a ritual too, but it should be the +Jewish. I am collecting subscriptions for the rebuilding of the Temple +on Mount Moriah; I hope too to negotiate a loan, and we shall have +Temple stock, yielding, I calculate, at least four per cent."</p> + +<p>"It has hitherto been thought a sin," said Reding, "to attempt +rebuilding the Temple. According to you, Julian the Apostate went the +better way to work."</p> + +<p>"His motive was wrong, sir," answered the other; "but his act was good. +The way to convert the Jews is, first to accept their rites. This is one +of the greatest discoveries of this age. <i>We</i> must make the first step +towards <i>them</i>. For myself, I have adopted all which the present state +of their religion renders possible. And I don't despair to see the day +when bloody sacrifices will be offered on the Temple Mount as of old."</p> + +<p>Here he came to a pause; and Charles making no reply, he said, in a +brisk, off-hand manner, "May I not hope you will give your name to this +religious object, and adopt the old ritual? The Catholic is quite of +yesterday compared with it." Charles answering in the negative, +Zerubbabel wrote down in his book: "Refuses to take part in our scheme;" +and disappeared from the room as suddenly as he entered it.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> "Successores sunt, sed ita ut potius Vicarii dicendi sint +Apostolorum, quam successores; contra, Romanus Pontifex, quia verus +Petri successor est, nonnisi per quendam abusum ejus vicarius +diceretur."—Zaccar. <i>Antifebr.</i>, p. 130.</p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">{402}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="three_VIII" id="three_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Charles's</span> trials were not at an end; and we suspect the reader will give +a shudder at the news, as having a very material share in the +infliction. Yet the reader's case has this great alleviation, that he +takes up this narrative in an idle hour, and Charles encountered the +reality in a very busy and anxious one. So, however, it was: not any +great time elapsed after the retreat of Zerubbabel, when his landlord +again appeared at the door. He assured Mr. Reding that it was no fault +of his that the last two persons had called on him; that the lady had +slipped by him, and the gentleman had forced his way; but that he now +really did wish to solicit an interview for a personage of great +literary pretensions, who sometimes dealt with him, and who had come +from the West End for the honour of an interview with Mr. Reding. +Charles groaned, but only one reply was possible; the day was already +wasted, and with a sort of dull resignation he gave permission for the +introduction of the stranger.</p> + +<p>It was a pale-faced man of about thirty-five, who, when he spoke, arched +his eyebrows, and had a peculiar smile. He began by expressing his +apprehension<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">{403}</a></span> that Mr. Reding must have been wearied by impertinent and +unnecessary visitors—visitors without intellect, who knew no better +than to obtrude their fanaticism on persons who did but despise it. "I +know more about the Universities," he continued, "than to suppose that +any congeniality can exist between their members and the mass of +religious sectarians. You have had very distinguished men among you, +sir, at Oxford, of very various schools, yet all able men, and +distinguished in the pursuit of Truth, though they have arrived at +contradictory opinions."</p> + +<p>Not knowing what he was driving at, Reding remained in an attitude of +expectation.</p> + +<p>"I belong," he continued, "to a Society which is devoted to the +extension among all classes of the pursuit of Truth. Any philosophical +mind, Mr. Reding, must have felt deep interest in your own party in the +University. Our Society, in fact, considers you to be distinguished +Confessors in that all-momentous occupation; and I have thought I could +not pay yourself individually, whose name has lately honourably appeared +in the papers, a better compliment than to get you elected a member of +our Truth Society. And here is your diploma," he added, handing a sheet +of paper to him. Charles glanced his eye over it; it was a paper, part +engraving, part print, part manuscript. An emblem of truth was in the +centre, represented, not by a radiating sun or star, as might be +expected, but as the moon under total eclipse, surrounded, as by cherub +faces, by the heads of Socrates, Cicero, Julian, Abelard, Luther, +Benjamin Franklin, and Lord Brougham. Then followed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">{404}</a></span> some sentences to +the effect that the London Branch Association of the British and Foreign +Truth Society, having evidence of the zeal in the pursuit of Truth of +Charles Reding, Esq., member of Oxford University, had unanimously +elected him into their number, and had assigned him the dignified and +responsible office of associate and corresponding member.</p> + +<p>"I thank the Truth Society very much," said Charles, when he got to the +end of the paper, "for this mark of their good will; yet I regret to +have scruples about accepting it till some of the patrons are changed, +whose heads are prefixed to the diploma. For instance, I do not like to +be under the shadow of the Emperor Julian."</p> + +<p>"You would respect his love of Truth, I presume," said Mr. Batts.</p> + +<p>"Not much, I fear," said Charles, "seeing it did not hinder him from +deliberately embracing error."</p> + +<p>"No, not so," answered Mr. Batts; "<i>he</i> thought it Truth; and Julian, I +conceive, cannot be said to have deserted the Truth, because, in fact, +he always was in pursuit of it."</p> + +<p>"I fear," said Reding, "there is a very serious difference between your +principles and my own on this point."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear sir, a little attention to our principles will remove it," +said Mr. Batts: "let me beg your acceptance of this little pamphlet, in +which you will find some fundamental truths stated, almost in the way of +aphorisms. I wish to direct your attention to page 8, where they are +drawn out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">{405}</a></span></p> + +<p>Charles turned to the page, and read as follows:—</p> + +<p class="center noind">"<i>On the pursuit of Truth.</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p class="neg">1. It is uncertain whether Truth exists.</p> + +<p class="neg">2. It is certain that it cannot be found.</p> + +<p class="neg">3. It is a folly to boast of possessing it.</p> + +<p class="neg">4. Man's work and duty, as man, consist, not in possessing, but in +seeking it.</p> + +<p class="neg">5. His happiness and true dignity consist in the pursuit.</p> + +<p class="neg">6. The pursuit of Truth is an end to be engaged in for its own +sake.</p> + +<p class="neg">7. As philosophy is the love, not the possession of wisdom, so +religion is the love, not the possession of Truth.</p> + +<p class="neg">8. As Catholicism begins with faith, so Protestantism ends with +inquiry.</p> + +<p class="neg">9. As there is disinterestedness in seeking, so is there +selfishness in claiming to possess.</p> + +<p class="neg">10. The martyr of Truth is he who dies professing that it is a +shadow.</p> + +<p class="neg">11. A life-long martyrdom is this, to be ever changing.</p> + +<p class="neg">12. The fear of error is the bane of inquiry."</p> +</div> + +<p>Charles did not get further than these, but others followed of a similar +character. He returned the pamphlet to Mr. Batts. "I see enough," he +said, "of the opinions of the Truth Society to admire their ingenuity +and originality, but, excuse me, not their good sense. It is impossible +I should subscribe to what is so plainly opposed to Christianity."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">{406}</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Batts looked annoyed. "We have no wish to oppose Christianity," he +said; "we only wish Christianity not to oppose us. It is very hard that +we may not go our own way, when we are quite willing that others should +go theirs. It seems imprudent, I conceive, in this age, to represent +Christianity as hostile to the progress of the mind, and to turn into +enemies of revelation those who do sincerely wish to 'live and let +live.'"</p> + +<p>"But contradictions cannot be true," said Charles: "if Christianity says +that Truth can be found, it must be an error to state that it cannot be +found."</p> + +<p>"I conceive it to be intolerant," persisted Mr. Batts: "you will grant, +I suppose, that Christianity has nothing to do with astronomy or +geology: why, then, should it be allowed to interfere with philosophy?"</p> + +<p>It was useless proceeding in the discussion; Charles repressed the +answer which rose on his tongue of the essential connexion of philosophy +with religion; a silence ensued of several minutes, and Mr. Batts at +length took the hint, for he rose with a disappointed air, and wished +him good morning.</p> + +<p>It mattered little now whether he was left to himself or not, except +that conversation harassed and fretted him; for, as to turning his mind +to the subjects which were to have been his occupation that morning, it +was by this time far too much wearied and dissipated to undertake them. +On Mr. Batts' departure, then, he did not make the attempt, but sat +before the fire, dull and depressed, and in danger of relapsing into the +troubled thoughts from which his railroad companion had extricated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">{407}</a></span> him. +When, then, at the end of half an hour, a new knock was heard at the +door, he admitted the postulant with a calm indifference, as if fortune +had now done her worst, and he had nothing to fear. A middle-aged man +made his appearance, sleek and plump, who seemed to be in good +circumstances, and to have profited by them. His glossy black dress, in +contrast with the crimson colour of his face and throat, for he wore no +collars, and his staid and pompous bearing, added to his rapid delivery +when he spoke, gave him much the look of a farm-yard turkey-cock in the +eyes of any one who was less disgusted with seeing new faces than Reding +was at that moment. The new comer looked sharply at him as he entered. +"Your most obedient," he said abruptly; "you seem in low spirits, my +dear sir; but sit down, Mr. Reding, and give me the opportunity of +offering to you a little good advice. You may guess what I am by my +appearance: I speak for myself; I will say no more; I can be of use to +you. Mr. Reding," he continued, pulling his chair towards him, and +putting out his hand as if he was going to paw him, "have not you made a +mistake in thinking it necessary to go to the Romish Church for a relief +of your religious difficulties?"</p> + +<p>"You have not yet heard from me, sir," answered Charles gravely, "that I +have any difficulties at all. Excuse me if I am abrupt; I have had many +persons calling on me with your errand. It is very kind of you, but I +don't want advice; I was a fool to come here."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear Mr. Reding, but listen to me,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">{408}</a></span> answered his persecutor, +spreading out the fingers of his right hand, and opening his eyes wide: +"I am right, I believe, in apprehending that your reason for leaving the +Establishment is, that you cannot carry out the surplice in the pulpit +and the candlesticks on the table. Now, don't you do more than you need. +Pardon me, but you are like a person who should turn the Thames in upon +his house, when he merely wanted his door-steps scrubbed. Why become a +convert to Popery, when you can obtain your object in a cheaper and +better way? Set up for yourself, my dear sir—set up for yourself; form +a new denomination, sixpence will do it; and then you may have your +surplice and candlesticks to your heart's content, without denying the +gospel, or running into the horrible abominations of the Scarlet Woman." +And he sat upright in his chair, with his hands flat on his extended +knees, watching with a self-satisfied air the effect of his words upon +Reding.</p> + +<p>"I have had enough of this," said poor Charles; "you, indeed, are but +one of a number, sir, and would say you had nothing to do with the rest; +but I cannot help regarding you as the fifth, or sixth, or seventh +person—I can't count them—who has been with me this morning, giving +me, though with the best intentions, advice which has not been asked +for. I don't know you, sir; you have no introduction to me; you have not +even told me your name. It is not usual to discourse on such personal +matters with strangers. Let me, then, thank you first for your kindness +in coming, and next for the additional kindness of going." And Charles +rose up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">{409}</a></span></p> + +<p>His visitor did not seem inclined to move, or to notice what he had +said. He stopped awhile, opened his handkerchief with much deliberation, +and blew his nose; then he continued: "Kitchens is my name, sir; Dr. +Kitchens; your state of mind, Mr. Reding, is not unknown to me; you are +at present under the influence of the old Adam, and indeed in a +melancholy way. I was not unprepared for it; and I have put into my +pocket a little tract which I shall press upon you with all the +Christian solicitude which brother can show towards brother. Here it is; +I have the greatest confidence in it; perhaps you have heard the name; +it is known as Kitchens's Spiritual Elixir. The Elixir has enlightened +millions; and, I will take on me to say, will convert you in twenty-four +hours. Its operation is mild and pleasurable, and its effects are +marvellous, prodigious, though it does not consist of more than eight +duodecimo pages. Here's a list of testimonies to some of the most +remarkable cases. I have known one hundred and two cases myself in which +it effected a saving change in six hours; seventy-nine in which its +operations took place in as few as three; and twenty-seven where +conversion followed instantaneously after the perusal. At once, poor +sinners, who five minutes before had been like the demoniac in the +gospel, were seen sitting 'clothed, and in their right mind.' Thus I +speak within the mark, Mr. Reding, when I say I will warrant a change in +you in twenty-four hours. I have never known but one instance in which +it seemed to fail, and that was the case of a wretched old man who held +it in his hand a whole day in dead silence,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">{410}</a></span> without any apparent +effect; but here <i>exceptio probat regulam</i>, for on further inquiry we +found he could not read. So the tract was slowly administered to him by +another person; and before it was finished, I protest to you, Mr. +Reding, he fell into a deep and healthy slumber, perspired profusely, +and woke up at the end of twelve hours a new creature, perfectly new, +bran new, and fit for heaven—whither he went in the course of the week. +We are now making farther experiments on its operation, and we find that +even separate leaves of the tract have a proportionate effect. And, what +is more to your own purpose, it is quite a specific in the case of +Popery. It directly attacks the peccant matter, and all the trash about +sacraments, saints, penance, purgatory, and good works is dislodged from +the soul at once."</p> + +<p>Charles remained silent and grave, as one who was likely suddenly to +break out into some strong act, rather than condescend to any farther +parleying.</p> + +<p>Dr. Kitchens proceeded: "Have you attended any of the lectures delivered +against the Mystic Babylon, or any of the public disputes which have +been carried on in so many places? My dear friend, Mr. Macanoise, +contested ten points with thirty Jesuits—a good half of the Jesuits in +London—and beat them upon all. Or have you heard any of the luminaries +of Exeter Hall? There is Mr. Gabb; he is a Boanerges, a perfect Niagara, +for his torrent of words; such momentum in his delivery; it is as rapid +as it's strong; it's enough to knock a man down. He can speak seven +hours running without fatigue; and last year he went through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">{411}</a></span> England, +delivering through the length and breadth of the land, one, and one +only, awful protest against the apocalyptic witch of Endor. He began at +Devonport and ended at Berwick, and surpassed himself on every delivery. +At Berwick, his last exhibition, the effect was perfectly tremendous; a +friend of mine heard it; he assures me, incredible as it may appear, +that it shattered some glass in a neighbouring house; and two priests of +Baal, who were with their day-school within a quarter of a mile of Mr. +Gabb, were so damaged by the mere echo, that one forthwith took to his +bed and the other has walked on crutches ever since." He stopped awhile; +then he continued: "And what was it, do you think, Mr. Reding, which had +this effect on them? Why, it was Mr. Gabb's notion about the sign of the +beast in the Revelation: he proved, Mr. Reding—it was the most original +hit in his speech—he proved that it was the sign of the cross, the +material cross."</p> + +<p>The time at length was come; Reding could not bear more; and, as it +happened, his visitor's offence gave him the means, as well as a cause, +for punishing him. "Oh," he said suddenly, "then I suppose, Dr. +Kitchens, you can't tolerate the cross?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; tolerate it!" answered Dr. Kitchens; "it is Antichrist."</p> + +<p>"You can't bear the sight of it, I suspect, Dr. Kitchens?"</p> + +<p>"I can't endure it, sir; what true Protestant can?"</p> + +<p>"Then look here," said Charles, taking a small crucifix out of his +writing-desk; and he held it before Dr. Kitchens' face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">{412}</a></span></p> + +<p>Dr. Kitchens at once started on his feet, and retreated. "What's that?" +he said, and his face flushed up and then turned pale; "what's that? +it's the thing itself!" and he made a snatch at it. "Take it away, Mr. +Reding; it's an idol; I cannot endure it; take away the thing!"</p> + +<p>"I declare," said Reding to himself, "it really has power over him;" and +he still confronted Dr. Kitchens with it, while he kept it out of Dr. +Kitchens' reach.</p> + +<p>"Take it away, Mr. Reding, I beseech you," cried Kitchens, still +retreating, while Charles still pressed on him; "take it away, it's too +much. Oh, oh! Spare me, spare me, Mr. Reding!—nehushtan—an idol!—oh, +you young antichrist, you devil!—'tis He, 'tis He—torment!—spare me, +Mr. Reding." And the miserable man began to dance about, still eyeing +the sacred sign, and motioning it from him.</p> + +<p>Charles now had victory in his hands: there was, indeed, some difficulty +in steering Kitchens to the door from the place where he had been +sitting, but, that once effected, he opened it with violence, and, +throwing himself on the staircase, he began to jump down two or three +steps at a time, with such forgetfulness of everything but his own +terror, that he came plump upon two persons who, in rivalry of each +other, were in the act of rushing up: and, while he drove one against +the rail, he fairly rolled the other to the bottom.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">{413}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="three_IX" id="three_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Charles</span> threw himself on his chair, burying the Crucifix in his bosom, +quite worn out with his long trial and the sudden exertion in which it +had just now been issuing. When a noise was heard at his door, and +knocks succeeded, he took no farther notice than to plant his feet on +the fender and bury his face in his hands. The summons at first was +apparently from one person only, but his delay in answering it gave time +for the arrival of another; and there was a brisk succession of +alternate knocks from the two, which Charles let take its course. At +length one of the rival candidates for admission, bolder than the other, +slowly opened the door; when the other, who had impetuously scrambled +upstairs after his fall, rushed in before him, crying out, "One word for +the New Jerusalem!" "In charity," said Reding, without changing his +attitude, "in charity, leave me alone. You mean it well, but I don't +want you, sir; I don't indeed. I've had Old Jerusalem here already, and +Jewish Apostles, and Gentile Apostles, and free inquiry, and fancy +religion, and Exeter Hall. What <i>have</i> I done? why can't I die out in +peace? My dear sir, do go! I can't see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">{414}</a></span> you; I'm worn out." And he rose +up and advanced towards him. "Call again, dear sir, if you are bent on +talking with me; but, excuse me, I really have had enough of it for one +day. No fault of yours, my dear sir, that you have come the sixth or +seventh." And he opened the door for him.</p> + +<p>"A madman nearly threw me down as I was coming up," said the person +addressed, in some agitation.</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand pardons for his rudeness, my dear sir—ten thousand +pardons, but allow me;" and he bowed him out of the room. He then turned +round to the other stranger, who had stood by in silence: "And you too, +sir ... is it possible!" His countenance changed to extreme surprise; it +was Mr. Malcolm. Charles's thoughts flowed in a new current, and his +tormentors were suddenly forgotten.</p> + +<p>The history of Mr. Malcolm's calling was simple. He had always been a +collector of old books, and had often taken advantage of the stores of +Charles's landlord in adding to his library. Passing through London to +the Eastern Counties Rail, he happened to call in; and, as his friend +the bookseller was not behind his own reading-room in the diffusion of +gossip, he learned that Mr. Reding, who was on the point of seceding +from the Establishment, was at that moment above stairs. He waited with +impatience through Dr. Kitchens' visit, and even then found himself, to +his no small annoyance, in danger of being outstripped by the good +Swedenborgian.</p> + +<p>"How d'ye do, Charles?" he said, at length, with not a little stiffness +in his manner, while Charles had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">{415}</a></span> no less awkwardness in receiving him; +"you have been holding a levee this morning; I thought I should never +get to see you. Sit you down; let us both sit down, and let me at last +have a word or two with you."</p> + +<p>In spite of the diversified trial Charles had sustained from strangers +that morning, there was no one perhaps whom he would have less desired +to see than Mr. Malcolm. He could not help associating him with his +father, yet he felt no opening of heart towards him, nor respect for his +judgment. His feeling was a mixture of prescriptive fear and +friendliness, attachment from old associations, and desire of standing +well with him, but neither confidence nor real love. He coloured up and +felt guilty, yet without a clear understanding why.</p> + +<p>"Well, Charles Reding," he said, "I think we know each other well enough +for you to have given me a hint of what was going on as regards you."</p> + +<p>Charles said he had written to him only the evening before.</p> + +<p>"Ah, when there was not time to answer your letter," said Mr. Malcolm.</p> + +<p>Charles said he wished to spare so kind a friend ... he bungled, and +could not finish his sentence.</p> + +<p>"A friend, who, of course, could give no advice," said Mr. Malcolm +drily. Presently he said, "Were those people some of your new friends +who were calling on you? they have kept me in the shop this +three-quarters of an hour; and the fellow who has just come down nearly +threw me over the baluster."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, sir, I know nothing of them; they were the most unwelcome of +intruders."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">{416}</a></span></p> + +<p>"As some one else seems to be," said Mr. Malcolm.</p> + +<p>Charles was very much hurt; the more so, because he had nothing to say; +he kept silence.</p> + +<p>"Well, Charles," said Mr. Malcolm, not looking at him, "I have known you +from this high; more, from a child in arms. A frank, open boy you were; +I don't know what has spoiled you. These Jesuits, perhaps.... It was not +so in your father's lifetime."</p> + +<p>"My dear sir," said Charles, "it pierces me to the heart to hear you +talk so. You have indeed always been most kind to me. If I have erred, +it has been an error of judgment; and I am very sorry for it, and hope +you will forgive it. I acted for the best; but I have been, as you must +feel, in a most trying situation. My mother has known what I was +contemplating this year past."</p> + +<p>"Trying situation! fudge! What have you to do with situations? I could +have told you a great deal about these Catholics; I know all about them. +Error of judgment! don't tell me. I know how these things happen quite +well. I have seen such things before; only I thought you a more sensible +fellow. There was young Dalton of St. Cross; he goes abroad, and falls +in with a smooth priest, who persuades the silly fellow that the +Catholic Church is the ancient and true Church of England, the only +religion for a gentleman; he is introduced to a Count this, and a +Marchioness that, and returns a Catholic. There was another; what was +his name? I forget it, of a Berkshire family. He is smitten with a +pretty face; nothing will serve but he must marry her; but she's a +Catholic, and can't marry a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">{417}</a></span> heretic; so he, forsooth, gives up the +favour of his uncle and his prospects in the county, for his fair +Juliet. There was another,—but it's useless going on. And, now I wonder +what has taken you."</p> + +<p>All this was the best justification for Charles's not having spoken to +Mr. Malcolm on the subject. That gentleman had had his own experience of +thirty or forty years, and, like some great philosophers, he made that +personal experience of his the decisive test of the possible and the +true. "I know them," he continued—"I know them; a set of hypocrites and +sharpers. I could tell you such stories of what I fell in with abroad. +Those priests are not to be trusted. Did you ever know a priest?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Charles.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see a Popish chapel?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything of Catholic books, Catholic doctrine, Catholic +morality? I warrant it, not much."</p> + +<p>Charles looked very uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"Then what makes you go to them?"</p> + +<p>Charles did not know what to say.</p> + +<p>"Silly boy," he went on, "you have not a word to say for yourself; it's +all idle fancy. You are going as a bird to the fowler."</p> + +<p>Reding began to rouse himself; he felt he ought to say something; he +felt that silence would tell against him. "Dear sir," he answered, +"there's nothing but may be turned against one if a person is so minded. +Now, do think; had I known this or that priest, you would have said at +once, 'Ah, he came over you.' If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">{418}</a></span> I had been familiar with Catholic +chapels, 'I was allured by the singing or the incense.' What can I have +done better than keep myself to myself, go by my best reason, consult +the friends whom I happened to find around me, as I have done, and wait +in patience till I was sure of my convictions?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's the way with you youngsters," said Mr. Malcolm; "you all +think you are so right; you do think so admirably that older heads are +worth nothing to the like of you. Well," he went on, putting on his +gloves, "I see I am not in the way to persuade you. Poor dear Charlie, I +grieve for you; what would your poor father have said, had he lived to +see it? Poor Reding, he has been spared this. But perhaps it would not +have happened. I know what the upshot will be; you will come back—come +back you will, to a dead certainty. We shall see you back, foolish boy, +after you have had your gallop over your ploughed field. Well, well; +better than running wild. You must have your hobby; it might have been a +worse; you might have run through your money. But perhaps you'll be +giving it away, as it is, to some artful priest. It's grievous, +grievous; your education thrown away, your prospects ruined, your poor +mother and sisters left to take care of themselves. And you don't say a +word to me." And he began musing. "A troublesome world: good-bye, +Charles; you are high and mighty now, and are in full sail: you may come +to your father's friend some day in a different temper. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>There was no help for it; Charles's heart was full, but his head was +wearied and confused, and his spirit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">{419}</a></span> sank; for all these reasons he had +not a word to say, and seemed to Mr. Malcolm either stupid or close. He +could but wring warmly Mr. Malcolm's reluctant hand, and accompany him +down to the street-door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">{420}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="three_X" id="three_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">"This</span> will never do," said Charles, as he closed the door, and ran +upstairs; "here is a day wasted, worse than wasted, wasted partly on +strangers, partly on friends; and it's hard to say in which case a more +thorough waste. I ought to have gone to the Convent at once." The +thought flashed into his mind, and he stood over the fire dwelling on +it. "Yes," he said, "I will delay no longer. How does time go? I declare +it's past four o'clock." He then thought again: "I'll get over my +dinner, and then at once betake myself to my good Passionists."</p> + +<p>To the coffee-house then he went, and, as it was some way off, it is not +wonderful that it was near six before he arrived at the Convent. It was +a plain brick building; money had not been so abundant as to overflow +upon the exterior, after the expense of the interior had been provided +for. And it was incomplete; a large church had been enclosed, but it was +scarcely more than a shell,—altars, indeed, had been set up, but, for +the rest, it had little more than good proportions, a broad sanctuary, a +serviceable organ, and an effective choir. There was a range of +buildings adjacent, capable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">{421}</a></span> of holding about half-a-dozen fathers; but +the size of the church required a larger establishment. By this time, +doubtless, things are different, but we are looking back at the first +efforts of the English Congregation, when it had scarcely ceased to +struggle for life, and when friends and members were but beginning to +flow in.</p> + +<p>It was indeed but ten years, at that time, since the severest of modern +rules had been introduced into England. Two centuries after the +memorable era when St. Philip and St. Ignatius, making light of those +bodily austerities of which they were personally so great masters, +preached mortification of will and reason as more necessary for a +civilized age,—in the lukewarm and self-indulgent eighteenth century, +Father Paul of the Cross was divinely moved to found a Congregation in +some respects more ascetic than the primitive hermits and the orders of +the middle age. It was not fast, or silence, or poverty which +distinguished it, though here too it is not wanting in strictness; but +in the cell of its venerable founder, on the Celian Hill, hangs an iron +discipline or scourge, studded with nails, which is a memorial, not only +of his own self-inflicted sufferings, but of those of his Italian +family. The object of those sufferings was as remarkable as their +intensity; penance, indeed, is in one respect the end of all +self-chastisement, but in the instance of the Passionists the use of the +scourge was specially directed to the benefit of their neighbour. They +applied the pain to the benefit of the holy souls in Purgatory, or they +underwent it to rouse a careless audience. On their missions, when their +words<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">{422}</a></span> seemed uttered in vain, they have been known suddenly to undo +their habit, and to scourge themselves with sharp knives or razors, +crying out to the horrified people, that they would not show mercy to +their flesh till they whom they were addressing took pity on their own +perishing souls. Nor was it to their own countrymen alone that this +self-consuming charity extended; how it so happened does not appear; +perhaps a certain memento close to their house was the earthly cause; +but so it was, that for many years the heart of Father Paul was expanded +towards a northern nation, with which, humanly speaking, he had nothing +to do. Over against St. John and St. Paul, the home of the Passionists +on the Celian, rises the old church and monastery of San Gregorio, the +womb, as it may be called, of English Christianity. There had lived that +great Saint, who is named our Apostle, who was afterwards called to the +chair of St. Peter; and thence went forth, in and after his pontificate, +Augustine, Paulinus, Justus, and the other Saints by whom our barbarous +ancestors were converted. Their names, which are now written up upon the +pillars of the portico, would almost seem to have issued forth, and +crossed over, and confronted the venerable Paul; for, strange to say, +the thought of England came into his ordinary prayers; and in his last +years, after a vision during Mass, as if he had been Augustine or +Mellitus, he talked of his "sons" in England.</p> + +<p>It was strange enough that even one Italian in the heart of Rome should +at that time have ambitious thoughts of making novices or converts in +this country;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">{423}</a></span> but, after the venerable Founder's death, his special +interest in our distant isle showed itself in another member of his +institute. On the Apennines, near Viterbo, there dwelt a shepherd-boy, +in the first years of this century, whose mind had early been drawn +heavenward; and, one day, as he prayed before an image of the Madonna, +he felt a vivid intimation that he was destined to preach the Gospel +under the northern sky. There appeared no means by which a Roman peasant +should be turned into a missionary; nor did the prospect open, when this +youth found himself, first a lay-brother, then a Father, in the +Congregation of the Passion. Yet, though no external means appeared, the +inward impression did not fade; on the contrary, it became more +definite, and, in process of time, instead of the dim north, England was +engraven on his heart. And, strange to say, as years went on, without +his seeking, for he was simply under obedience, our peasant found +himself at length upon the very shore of the stormy northern sea, whence +Cæsar of old looked out for a new world to conquer; yet that he should +cross the strait was still as little likely as before. However, it was +as likely as that he should ever have got so near it; and he used to eye +the restless, godless waves, and wonder with himself whether the day +would ever come when he should be carried over them. And come it did, +not however by any determination of his own, but by the same Providence +which thirty years before had given him the anticipation of it.</p> + +<p>At the time of our narrative, Father Domenico de Matre Dei had become +familiar with England; he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">{424}</a></span> had many anxieties here, first from want +of funds, then still more from want of men. Year passed after year, and, +whether fear of the severity of the rule—though that was groundless, +for it had been mitigated for England—or the claim of other religious +bodies was the cause, his community did not increase, and he was tempted +to despond. But every work has its season; and now for some time past +that difficulty had been gradually lessening; various zealous men, some +of noble birth, others of extensive acquirements, had entered the +Congregation; and our friend Willis, who at this time had received the +priesthood, was not the last of these accessions, though domiciled at a +distance from London. And now the reader knows much more about the +Passionists than did Reding at the time that he made his way to their +monastery.</p> + +<p>The church door came first, and, as it was open, he entered it. It +apparently was filling for service. When he got inside, the person who +immediately preceded him dipped his finger into a vessel of water which +stood at the entrance, and offered it to Charles. Charles, ignorant what +it meant, and awkward from his consciousness of it, did nothing but +slink aside, and look for some place of refuge; but the whole space was +open, and there seemed no corner to retreat into. Every one, however, +seemed about his own business; no one minded him, and so far he felt at +his ease. He stood near the door, and began to look about him. A +profusion of candles was lighting at the High Altar, which stood in the +centre of a semicircular apse. There were side-altars—perhaps +half-a-dozen; most of them without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">{425}</a></span> lights, but, even here, solitary +worshippers might be seen. Over one was a large old Crucifix with a +lamp, and this had a succession of visitors. They came each for five +minutes, said some prayers which were attached in a glazed frame to the +rail, and passed away. At another, which was in a chapel at the farther +end of one of the aisles, six long candles were burning, and over it was +an image. On looking attentively, Charles made out at last that it was +an image of Our Lady, and the Child held out a rosary. Here a +congregation had already assembled, or rather was in the middle of some +service, to him unknown. It was rapid, alternate, and monotonous; and, +as it seemed interminable, Reding turned his eyes elsewhere. They fell +first on one, then on another confessional, round each of which was a +little crowd, kneeling, waiting every one his own turn for presenting +himself for the sacrament—the men on the one side, the women on the +other. At the lower end of the church were about three ranges of +moveable benches with backs and kneelers; the rest of the large space +was open, and filled with chairs. The growing object of attention at +present was the High Altar; and each person, as he entered, took a +chair, and, kneeling down behind it, began his prayers. At length the +church got very full; rich and poor were mixed together—artisans, +well-dressed youths, Irish labourers, mothers with two or three +children—the only division being that of men from women. A set of boys +and children, mixed with some old crones, had got possession of the +altar-rail, and were hugging it with restless motions, as if in +expectation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">{426}</a></span></p> + +<p>Though Reding had continued standing, no one would have noticed him; but +he saw the time was come for him to kneel, and accordingly he moved into +a corner seat on the bench nearest him. He had hardly done so, when a +procession with lights passed from the sacristy to the altar; something +went on which he did not understand, and then suddenly began what, by +the <i>Miserere</i> and <i>Ora pro nobis</i>, he perceived to be a litany; a hymn +followed. Reding thought he never had been present at worship before, so +absorbed was the attention, so intense was the devotion of the +congregation. What particularly struck him was, that whereas in the +Church of England the clergyman or the organ was everything and the +people nothing, except so far as the clerk is their representative, here +it was just reversed. The priest hardly spoke, or at least audibly; but +the whole congregation was as though one vast instrument or +Panharmonicon, moving all together, and, what was most remarkable, as if +self-moved. They did not seem to require any one to prompt or direct +them, though in the Litany the choir took the alternate parts. The words +were Latin, but every one seemed to understand them thoroughly, and to +be offering up his prayers to the Blessed Trinity, and the Incarnate +Saviour, and the great Mother of God, and the glorified Saints, with +hearts full in proportion to the energy of the sounds they uttered. +There was a little boy near him, and a poor woman, singing at the pitch +of their voices. There was no mistaking it; Reding said to himself, +"This <i>is</i> a popular religion." He looked round at the building; it was, +as we have said, very plain, and bore the marks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">{427}</a></span> of being unfinished; +but the Living Temple which was manifested in it needed no curious +carving or rich marble to complete it, "for the glory of God had +enlightened it, and the Lamb was the lamp thereof." "How wonderful," +said Charles to himself, "that people call this worship formal and +external; it seems to possess all classes, young and old, polished and +vulgar, men and women indiscriminately; it is the working of one Spirit +in all, making many one."</p> + +<p>While he was thus thinking, a change came over the worship. A priest, or +at least an assistant, had mounted for a moment above the altar, and +removed a chalice or vessel which stood there; he could not see +distinctly. A cloud of incense was rising on high; the people suddenly +all bowed low; what could it mean? the truth flashed on him, fearfully +yet sweetly; it was the Blessed Sacrament—it was the Lord Incarnate who +was on the altar, who had come to visit and to bless His people. It was +the Great Presence, which makes a Catholic Church different from every +other place in the world; which makes it, as no other place can be, +holy. The Breviary offices were by this time not unknown to Reding; and +as he threw himself on the pavement, in sudden self-abasement and joy, +some words of those great Antiphons came into his mouth, from which +Willis had formerly quoted: "O Adonai, et Dux domûs Israel, qui Moysi in +rubo apparuisti; O Emmanuel, Exspectatio Gentium et Salvator earum, veni +ad salvandum nos, Domine Deus noster."</p> + +<p>The function did not last very long after this; Reding, on looking up, +found the congregation rapidly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">{428}</a></span> diminishing, and the lights in course of +extinction. He saw he must be quick in his motions. He made his way to a +lay-brother who was waiting till the doors could be closed, and begged +to be conducted to the Superior. The lay-brother feared he might be busy +at the moment, but conducted him through the sacristy to a small neat +room, where, being left to himself, he had time to collect his thoughts. +At length the Superior appeared; he was a man past the middle age, and +had a grave yet familiar manner. Charles's feelings were indescribable, +but all pleasurable. His heart beat, not with fear or anxiety, but with +the thrill of delight with which he realized that he was beneath the +shadow of a Catholic community, and face to face with one of its +priests. His trouble went in a moment, and he could have laughed for +joy. He could hardly keep his countenance, and almost feared to be taken +for a fool. He presented the card of his railroad companion. The good +Father smiled when he saw the name, nor did the few words which were +written with pencil on the card diminish his satisfaction. Charles and +he soon came to an understanding; he found himself already known in the +community by means of Willis; and it was arranged that he should take up +his lodging with his new friends forthwith, and remain there as long as +it suited him. He was to prepare for confession at once; and it was +hoped that on the following Sunday he might be received into Catholic +communion. After that, he was, at a convenient interval, to present +himself to the Bishop, from whom he would seek the sacrament of +confirmation. Not much time was necessary for removing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">{429}</a></span> his luggage from +his lodgings; and in the course of an hour from the time of his +interview with the Father Superior, he was sitting by himself, with pen +and paper and his books, and with a cheerful fire, in a small cell of +his new home.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">{430}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="three_XI" id="three_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">A very</span> few words will conduct us to the end of our history. It was +Sunday morning about seven o'clock, and Charles had been admitted into +the communion of the Catholic Church about an hour since. He was still +kneeling in the church of the Passionists before the Tabernacle, in the +possession of a deep peace and serenity of mind, which he had not +thought possible on earth. It was more like the stillness which almost +sensibly affects the ears when a bell that has long been tolling stops, +or when a vessel, after much tossing at sea, finds itself in harbour. It +was such as to throw him back in memory on his earliest years, as if he +were really beginning life again. But there was more than the happiness +of childhood in his heart; he seemed to feel a rock under his feet; it +was the <i>soliditas Cathedræ Petri</i>. He went on kneeling, as if he were +already in heaven, with the throne of God before him, and angels around; +and as if to move were to lose his privilege.</p> + +<p>At length he felt a light hand on his shoulder, and a voice said, +"Reding, I am going; let me just say farewell to you before I go." He +looked around; it was Willis, or rather Father Aloysius, in his dark +Passionist<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">{431}</a></span> habit, with the white heart sewed in at his left breast. +Willis carried him from the church into the sacristy. "What a joy, +Reding!" he whispered, when the door closed upon them; "what a day of +joy! St. Edward's day, a doubly blessed day henceforth. My Superior let +me be present; but now I must go. You did not see me, but I was present +through the whole."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Charles, "what shall I say?—the face of God! As I knelt I +seemed to wish to say this, and this only, with the Patriarch, 'Now let +me die, since I have seen Thy Face.'"</p> + +<p>"You, dear Reding," said Father Aloysius, "have keen fresh feelings; +mine are blunted by familiarity."</p> + +<p>"No, Willis," he made answer, "you have taken the better part betimes, +while I have loitered. Too late have I known Thee, O Thou ancient Truth; +too late have I found Thee, First and only Fair."</p> + +<p>"All is well, except as sin makes it ill," said Father Aloysius; "if you +have to lament loss of time before conversion, I have to lament it +after. If you speak of delay, must not I of rashness? A good God +overrules all things. But I must away. Do you recollect my last words +when we parted in Devonshire? I have thought of them often since; they +were too true then. I said, 'Our ways divide.' They are different still, +yet they are the same. Whether we shall meet again here below, who +knows? but there will be a meeting ere long before the Throne of God, +and under the shadow of His Blessed Mother and all Saints. 'Deus +manifeste veniet, Deus noster, et non silebit.'"</p> + +<p>Reding took Father Aloysius's hand and kissed it;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">{432}</a></span> as he sank on his +knees the young priest made the sign of blessing over him. Then he +vanished through the door of the sacristy; and the new convert sought +his temporary cell, so happy in the Present, that he had no thoughts +either for the Past or the Future.</p> + +<h3 class="biggap">THE END.</h3> + + +<hr style='width: 30%;' /> + + +<h5>PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.<br /> +EDINBURGH AND LONDON</h5> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">{433}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<h2><i>CARDINAL NEWMAN'S WORKS.</i></h2> + + +<h4>1. SERMONS.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="neg">1-8. <span class="smcap">Parochial and Plain Sermons.</span> (<i>Rivingtons.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">9. <span class="smcap">Sermons on Subjects of the Day.</span> (<i>Rivingtons.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">10. <span class="smcap">University Sermons.</span> (<i>Rivingtons.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">11. <span class="smcap">Sermons to Mixed Congregations.</span> (<i>Burns & Oates.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">12. <span class="smcap">Occasional Sermons.</span> (<i>Burns & Oates.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<h4>2. TREATISES.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="neg">13. <span class="smcap">On the Doctrine of Justification.</span> (<i>Rivingtons.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">14. <span class="smcap">On the Development of Christian Doctrine.</span> (<i>Pickering.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">15. <span class="smcap">On the Idea of a University.</span> (<i>Pickering.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">16. <span class="smcap">On the Doctrine of Assent.</span> (<i>Burns & Oates.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<h4>3. ESSAYS.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="neg">17. <span class="smcap">Two Essays on Miracles.</span> 1. Of Scripture. 2. Of Ecclesiastical +History. (<i>Pickering.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">18. <span class="smcap">Discussions and Arguments.</span> 1. How to accomplish it. +2. The Antichrist of the Fathers. 3. Scripture and the +Creed. 4. Tamworth Reading-Room. 5. Who's to blame? +6. An Argument for Christianity. (<i>Pickering.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">19, 20. <span class="smcap">Essays, Critical and Historical. Two Volumes, with +Notes.</span> 1. Poetry. 2. Rationalism. 3. Apostolical Tradition. +4. De la Mennais. 5. Palmer on Faith and +Unity. 6. St. Ignatius. 7. Prospects of the Anglican +Church. 8. The Anglo-American Church. 9. Countess +of Huntingdon. 10. Catholicity of the Anglican Church. +11. The Antichrist of Protestants. 12. Milman's Christianity. +13. Reformation of the Eleventh Century. 14. +Private Judgment. 15. Davison. 16. Keble. (<i>Pickering.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">{434}</a></span></p> + +<h4>4. HISTORICAL.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="neg">21-23. <span class="smcap">Three Volumes.</span> 1. The Turks. 2. Cicero. 3. Apollonius. +4. Primitive Christianity. 5. Church of the +Fathers. 6. St. Chrysostom. 7. Theodoret. 8. St. Benedict. +9. Benedictine Schools. 10. Universities. 11. +Northmen and Normans. 12. Medieval Oxford. 13. Convocation +of Canterbury. (<i>Pickering.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<h4>5. THEOLOGICAL.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="neg">24. <span class="smcap">The Arians of the Fourth Century.</span> (<i>Pickering.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">25, 26. <span class="smcap">Annotated Translation of Athanasius. Two +Volumes.</span> (<i>Pickering.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">27. <span class="smcap">Tracts.</span> 1. Dissertatiunculæ. 2. On the Text of the +Seven Epistles of St. Ignatius. 3. Doctrinal Causes of +Arianism. 4. Apollinarianism. 5. St. Cyril's Formula. +6. Ordo de Tempore. 7. Douay Version of Scripture. +(<i>Pickering.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<h4>6. POLEMICAL.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="neg">28, 29. <span class="smcap">Via Media. Two Volumes, with Notes.</span> 1st Vol. +Prophetical Office of the Church. 2d Vol. Occasional +Letters and Tracts. (<i>Pickering.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">30, 31. <span class="smcap">Difficulties of Anglicans. Two Volumes.</span> 1st Vol. +Twelve Lectures. 2d Vol. Letters to Dr. Pusey concerning +the Bl. Virgin, and to the Duke of Norfolk in Defence +of the Pope and Council. (<i>Burns & Oates, and Pickering.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">32. <span class="smcap">Present Position of Catholics in England.</span> (<i>Burns</i> +<i>& Oates.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">33. <span class="smcap">Apologia pro Vitâ Suâ</span>. (<i>Longmans.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<h4>7. LITERARY.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="neg">34. <span class="smcap">Verses on Various Occasions.</span> (<i>Burns & Oates.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">35. <span class="smcap">Loss and Gain</span>. (<i>Burns & Oates, and Pickering.</i>)</p> +<p class="neg">36. <span class="smcap">Callista.</span> (<i>Burns & Oates.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>It is scarcely necessary to say that the Author submits all that he has +written to the judgment of the Church, whose gift and prerogative it is +to determine what is true and what is false in religious teaching.</p> + + +<hr style='width: 30%;' /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Loss and Gain, by John Henry Newman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOSS AND GAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 24574-h.htm or 24574-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/5/7/24574/ + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Pilar Somoza Fernández and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian +Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Loss and Gain + The Story of a Convert + +Author: John Henry Newman + +Release Date: February 11, 2008 [EBook #24574] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOSS AND GAIN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Pilar Somoza Fernandez and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian +Libraries) + + + + + + + + + +LOSS AND GAIN: +THE STORY OF A CONVERT. + + +BY +JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, +OF THE ORATORY. + + +ADHUC MODICUM ALIQUANTULUM, +QUI VENTURUS EST, VENIET, ET NON TARDABIT. +JUSTUS AUTEM MEUS EX FIDE VIVIT. + + +Eighth Edition. + + +LONDON: BURNS AND OATES. +1881. + + + + +TO THE VERY REV. +CHARLES W. RUSSELL, D.D., +PRESIDENT OF ST. PATRICK'S COLLEGE, MAYNOOTH, +&c. &c. + + +My dear Dr. Russell,--Now that at length I take the step of printing my +name in the Title-Page of this Volume, I trust I shall not be +encroaching on the kindness you have so long shown to me, if I venture +to follow it up by placing yours in the page which comes next, thus +associating myself with you, and recommending myself to my readers by +the association. + +Not that I am dreaming of bringing down upon you, in whole or part, the +criticisms, just or unjust, which lie against a literary attempt which +has in some quarters been thought out of keeping with my antecedents and +my position; but the warm and sympathetic interest which you took in +Oxford matters thirty years ago, and the benefits which I derived +personally from that interest, are reasons why I am desirous of +prefixing your name to a Tale, which, whatever its faults, at least is a +more intelligible and exact representation of the thoughts, sentiments, +and aspirations, then and there prevailing, than was to be found in the +anti-Catholic pamphlets, charges, sermons, reviews, and story-books of +the day. + +These reasons, too, must be my apology, should I seem to be asking your +acceptance of a Volume, which, over and above its intrinsic defects, is, +in its very subject and style, hardly commensurate with the theological +reputation and the ecclesiastical station of the person to whom it is +presented. + + I am, my dear Dr. Russell, + + Your affectionate friend, + + JOHN H. NEWMAN. + +THE ORATORY, _Feb. 21, 1874_. + + + + +ADVERTISEMENT. + + +The following tale is not intended as a work of controversy in behalf of +the Catholic Religion; but as a description of what is understood by +few, viz. the course of thought and state of mind,--or rather one such +course and state,--which issues in conviction of its Divine origin. + +Nor is it founded on fact, to use the common phrase. It is not the +history of any individual mind among the recent converts to the Catholic +Church. The principal characters are imaginary; and the writer wishes to +disclaim personal allusion in any. It is with this view that he has +feigned ecclesiastical bodies and places, to avoid the chance, which +might otherwise occur, of unintentionally suggesting to the reader real +individuals, who were far from his thoughts. + +At the same time, free use has been made of sayings and doings which +were characteristic of the time and place in which the scene is laid. +And, moreover, when, as in a tale, a general truth or fact is exhibited +in individual specimens of it, it is impossible that the ideal +representation should not more or less coincide, in spite of the +author's endeavour, or even without his recognition, with its existing +instances or champions. + +It must also be added, to prevent a farther misconception, that no +proper representative is intended in this tale, of the religious +opinions which had lately so much influence in the University of Oxford. + +_Feb. 21, 1848._ + + + + +ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SIXTH EDITION. + + +A tale, directed against the Oxford converts to the Catholic Faith, was +sent from England to the author of this Volume in the summer of 1847, +when he was resident at Santa Croce in Rome. Its contents were as +wantonly and preposterously fanciful, as they were injurious to those +whose motives and actions it professed to represent; but a formal +criticism or grave notice of it seemed to him out of place. + +The suitable answer lay rather in the publication of a second tale; +drawn up with a stricter regard to truth and probability, and with at +least some personal knowledge of Oxford, and some perception of the +various aspects of the religious phenomenon, which the work in question +handled so rudely and so unskilfully. + +Especially was he desirous of dissipating the fog of pomposity and +solemn pretence, which its writer had thrown around the personages +introduced into it, by showing, as in a specimen, that those who were +smitten with love of the Catholic Church, were nevertheless as able to +write common-sense prose as other men. + +Under these circumstances "Loss and Gain" was given to the public. + +_Feb. 21, 1874._ + + + + +LOSS AND GAIN. + + + + +Part I. + +CHAPTER I. + + +Charles Reding was the only son of a clergyman, who was in possession of +a valuable benefice in a midland county. His father intended him for +orders, and sent him at a proper age to a public school. He had long +revolved in his mind the respective advantages and disadvantages of +public and private education, and had decided in favour of the former. +"Seclusion," he said, "is no security for virtue. There is no telling +what is in a boy's heart: he may look as open and happy as usual, and be +as kind and attentive, when there is a great deal wrong going on within. +The heart is a secret with its Maker; no one on earth can hope to get at +it or to touch it. I have a cure of souls; what do I really know of my +parishioners? Nothing; their hearts are sealed books to me. And this +dear boy, he comes close to me; he throws his arms round me, but his +soul is as much out of my sight as if he were at the antipodes. I am +not accusing him of reserve, dear fellow: his very love and reverence +for me keep him in a sort of charmed solitude. I cannot expect to get at +the bottom of him. + + 'Each in his hidden sphere of bliss or woe, + Our hermit spirits dwell.' + +It is our lot here below. No one on earth can know Charles's secret +thoughts. Did I guard him here at home ever so well, yet, in due time, +it would be found that a serpent had crept into the heart of his +innocence. Boys do not fully know what is good and what is evil; they do +wrong things at first almost innocently. Novelty hides vice from them; +there is no one to warn them or give them rules; and they become slaves +of sin, while they are learning what sin is. They go to the University, +and suddenly plunge into excesses, the greater in proportion to their +inexperience. And, besides all this, I am not equal to the task of +forming so active and inquisitive a mind as his. He already asks +questions which I know not how to answer. So he shall go to a public +school. There he will get discipline at least, even if he has more of +trial: at least he will gain habits of self-command, manliness, and +circumspection; he will learn to use his eyes, and will find materials +to use them upon; and thus will be gradually trained for the liberty +which, any how, he must have when he goes to college." + +This was the more necessary, because, with many high excellences, +Charles was naturally timid and retiring, over-sensitive, and, though +lively and cheerful, yet not without a tinge of melancholy in his +character, which sometimes degenerated into mawkishness. + +To Eton, then, he went; and there had the good fortune to fall into the +hands of an excellent tutor, who, while he instructed him in the old +Church-of-England principles of Mant and Doyley, gave his mind a +religious impression, which secured him against the allurements of bad +company, whether at the school itself, or afterwards at Oxford. To that +celebrated seat of learning he was in due time transferred, being +entered at St. Saviour's College; and he is in his sixth term from +matriculation, and his fourth of residence, at the time our story opens. + +At Oxford, it is needless to say, he had found a great number of his +schoolfellows, but, it so happened, had found very few friends among +them. Some were too gay for him, and he had avoided them; others, with +whom he had been intimate at Eton, having high connections, had fairly +cut him on coming into residence, or, being entered at other colleges, +had lost sight of him. Almost everything depends at Oxford, in the +matter of acquaintance, on proximity of rooms. You choose your friend, +not so much by your tastes, as by your staircase. There is a story of a +London tradesman who lost custom after beautifying his premises, because +his entrance went up a step; and we all know how great is the difference +between open and shut doors when we walk along a street of shops. In a +university a youth's hours are portioned out to him. A regular man gets +up and goes to chapel, breakfasts, gets up his lectures, goes to +lecture, walks, dines; there is little to induce him to mount any +staircase but his own; and if he does so, ten to one he finds the friend +from home whom he is seeking; not to say that freshmen, who naturally +have common feelings and interests, as naturally are allotted a +staircase in common. And thus it was that Charles Reding was brought +across William Sheffield, who had come into residence the same term as +himself. + +The minds of young people are pliable and elastic, and easily +accommodate themselves to any one they fall in with. They find grounds +of attraction both where they agree with one another and where they +differ; what is congenial to themselves creates sympathy; what is +correlative, or supplemental, creates admiration and esteem. And what is +thus begun is often continued in after-life by the force of habit and +the claims of memory. Thus, in the choice of friends, chance often does +for us as much as the most careful selection could have effected. What +was the character and degree of that friendship which sprang up between +the freshmen Reding and Sheffield, we need not here minutely explain: it +will be enough to say, that what they had in common was freshmanship, +good talents, and the back staircase; and that they differed in +this--that Sheffield had lived a good deal with people older than +himself, had read much in a desultory way, and easily picked up opinions +and facts, especially on controversies of the day, without laying +anything very much to heart; that he was ready, clear-sighted, +unembarrassed, and somewhat forward: Charles, on the other hand, had +little knowledge as yet of principles or their bearings, but understood +more deeply than Sheffield, and held more practically, what he had once +received; he was gentle and affectionate, and easily led by others, +except when duty clearly interfered. It should be added, that he had +fallen in with various religious denominations in his father's parish, +and had a general, though not a systematic, knowledge of their tenets. +What they were besides, will be seen as our narrative advances. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +It was a little past one P.M. when Sheffield, passing Charles's door, +saw it open. The college servant had just entered with the usual +half-commons for luncheon, and was employed in making up the fire. +Sheffield followed him in, and found Charles in his cap and gown, +lounging on the arm of his easy-chair, and eating his bread and cheese. +Sheffield asked him if he slept, as well as ate and drank, "accoutred as +he was." + +"I am just going for a turn into the meadow," said Charles; "this is to +me the best time of the year: _nunc formosissimus annus_; everything is +beautiful; the laburnums are out, and the may. There is a greater +variety of trees there than in any other place I know hereabouts; and +the planes are so touching just now, with their small multitudinous +green hands half-opened; and there are two or three such fine dark +willows stretching over the Cherwell; I think some dryad inhabits them: +and, as you wind along, just over your right shoulder is the Long Walk, +with the Oxford buildings seen between the elms. They say there are dons +here who recollect when the foliage was unbroken, nay, when you might +walk under it in hard rain, and get no wet. I know I got drenched there +the other day." + +Sheffield laughed, and said that Charles must put on his beaver, and +walk with him a different way. He wanted a good walk; his head was +stupid from his lectures; that old Jennings prosed so awfully upon +Paley, it made him quite ill. He had talked of the Apostles as neither +"deceivers nor deceived," of their "sensible miracles," and of their +"dying for their testimony," till he did not know whether he himself was +an _ens physiologicum_ or a _totum metaphysicum_, when Jennings had +cruelly asked him to repeat Paley's argument; and because he had not +given it in Jennings' words, friend Jennings had pursed up his lips, and +gone through the whole again; so intent, in his wooden enthusiasm, on +his own analysis of it, that he did not hear the clock strike the hour; +and, in spite of the men's shuffling their feet, blowing their noses, +and looking at their watches, on he had gone for a good twenty minutes +past the time; and would have been going on even then, he verily +believed, but for an interposition only equalled by that of the geese at +the Capitol. For that, when he had got about half through his +recapitulation, and was stopping at the end of a sentence to see the +impression he was making, that uncouth fellow, Lively, moved by what +happy inspiration he did not know, suddenly broke in, apropos of +nothing, nodding his head, and speaking in a clear cackle, with, "Pray, +sir, what is your opinion of the infallibility of the Pope?" Upon which +every one but Jennings did laugh out: but he, _au contraire_, began to +look very black; and no one can tell what would have happened, had he +not cast his eyes by accident on his watch, on which he coloured, closed +his book, and _instanter_ sent the whole lecture out of the room. + +Charles laughed in his turn, but added, "Yet, I assure you, Sheffield, +that Jennings, stiff and cold as he seems, is, I do believe, a very good +fellow at bottom. He has before now spoken to me with a good deal of +feeling, and has gone out of his way to do me favours. I see poor bodies +coming to him for charity continually; and they say that his sermons at +Holy Cross are excellent." + +Sheffield said he liked people to be natural, and hated that donnish +manner. What good could it do? and what did it mean? + +"That is what I call bigotry," answered Charles; "I am for taking every +one for what he is, and not for what he is not: one has this excellence, +another that; no one is everything. Why should we not drop what we don't +like, and admire what we like? This is the only way of getting through +life, the only true wisdom, and surely our duty into the bargain." + +Sheffield thought this regular prose, and unreal. "We must," he said, +"have a standard of things, else one good thing is as good as another. +But I can't stand here all day," he continued, "when we ought to be +walking." And he took off Charles's cap, and, placing his hat on him +instead, said, "Come, let us be going." + +"Then must I give up my meadow?" said Charles. + +"Of course you must," answered Sheffield; "you must take a beaver walk. +I want you to go as far as Oxley, a village some little way out, all +the vicars of which, sooner or later, are made bishops. Perhaps even +walking there may do us some good." + +The friends set out, from hat to boot in the most approved Oxford +bandbox-cut of trimness and prettiness. Sheffield was turning into the +High Street, when Reding stopped him: "It always annoys me," he said, +"to go down High Street in a beaver; one is sure to meet a proctor." + +"All those University dresses are great fudge," answered Sheffield; "how +are we the better for them? They are mere outside, and nothing else. +Besides, our gown is so hideously ugly." + +"Well, I don't go along with your sweeping condemnation," answered +Charles; "this is a great place, and should have a dress. I declare, +when I first saw the procession of Heads at St. Mary's, it was quite +moving. First----" + +"Of course the pokers," interrupted Sheffield. + +"First the organ, and every one rising; then the Vice-Chancellor in red, +and his bow to the preacher, who turns to the pulpit; then all the Heads +in order; and lastly the Proctors. Meanwhile, you see the head of the +preacher slowly mounting up the steps; when he gets in, he shuts-to the +door, looks at the organ-loft to catch the psalm, and the voices strike +up." + +Sheffield laughed, and then said, "Well, I confess I agree with you in +your instance. The preacher is, or is supposed to be, a person of +talent; he is about to hold forth; the divines, the students of a great +University, are all there to listen. The pageant does but fitly +represent the great moral fact which is before us; I understand _this_. +I don't call _this_ fudge; what I mean by fudge is, outside without +inside. Now I must say, the sermon itself, and not the least of all the +prayer before it--what do they call it?" + +"The bidding prayer," said Reding. + +"Well, both sermon and prayer are often arrant fudge. I don't often go +to University sermons, but I have gone often enough not to go again +without compulsion. The last preacher I heard was from the country. Oh, +it was wonderful! He began at the pitch of his voice, 'Ye shall pray.' +What stuff! 'Ye shall _pray_;' because old Latimer or Jewell said, 'Ye +shall praie,' therefore we must not say, 'Let us pray.' Presently he +brought out," continued Sheffield, assuming a pompous and up-and-down +tone, "'especially for that pure and apostolic branch of it +_established_,'--here the man rose on his toes, '_established_ in these +dominions.' Next came, 'for our Sovereign Lady Victoria, Queen, Defender +of the Faith, in all causes and over all persons, ecclesiastical as well +as civil, within these her dominions, _supreme_'--an awful pause, with +an audible fall of the sermon-case on the cushion; as though nature did +not contain, as if the human mind could not sustain, a bigger thought. +Then followed, 'the pious and munificent founder,' in the same twang, +'of All Saints' and Leicester Colleges,' But his _chef-d'oeuvre_ was +his emphatic recognition of '_all_ the doctors, _both_ the proctors', as +if the numerical antithesis had a graphic power, and threw those +excellent personages into a charming _tableau vivant_." + +Charles was amused at all this; but he said in answer, that he never +heard a sermon but it was his own fault if he did not gain good from it; +and he quoted the words of his father, who, when he one day asked him if +so-and-so had not preached a very good sermon, "My dear Charles," his +father had said, "all sermons are good." The words, simple as they were, +had retained a hold on his memory. + +Meanwhile, they had proceeded down the forbidden High Street, and were +crossing the bridge, when, on the opposite side, they saw before them a +tall, upright man, whom Sheffield had no difficulty in recognizing as a +bachelor of Nun's Hall, and a bore at least of the second magnitude. He +was in cap and gown, but went on his way, as if intending, in that +extraordinary guise, to take a country walk. He took the path which they +were going themselves, and they tried to keep behind him; but they +walked too briskly, and he too leisurely, to allow of that. It is very +difficult duly to delineate a bore in a narrative, for the very reason +that he _is_ a bore. A tale must aim at condensation, but a bore acts in +solution. It is only on the long-run that he is ascertained. Then, +indeed, he is _felt_; he is oppressive; like the sirocco, which the +native detects at once, while a foreigner is often at fault. _Tenet +occiditque._ Did you hear him make but one speech, perhaps you would say +he was a pleasant, well-informed man; but when he never comes to an end, +or has one and the same prose every time you meet him, or keeps you +standing till you are fit to sink, or holds you fast when you wish to +keep an engagement, or hinders you listening to important +conversation,--then there is no mistake, the truth bursts on you, +_apparent dirae facies_, you are in the clutches of a bore. You may +yield, or you may flee; you cannot conquer. Hence it is clear that a +bore cannot be represented in a story, or the story would be the bore as +much as he. The reader, then, must believe this upright Mr. Bateman to +be what otherwise he might not discover, and thank us for our +consideration in not proving as well as asserting it. + +Sheffield bowed to him courteously, and would have proceeded on his way; +but Bateman, as became his nature, would not suffer it; he seized him. +"Are you disposed," he said, "to look into the pretty chapel we are +restoring on the common? It is quite a gem--in the purest style of the +fourteenth century. It was in a most filthy condition, a mere cow-house; +but we have made a subscription, and set it to rights." + +"We are bound for Oxley," Sheffield answered; "you would be taking us +out of our way." + +"Not a bit of it," said Bateman; "it's not a stone's throw from the +road; you must not refuse me. I'm sure you'll like it." + +He proceeded to give the history of the chapel--all it had been, all it +might have been, all it was not, all it was to be. + +"It is to be a real specimen of a Catholic chapel," he said; "we mean to +make the attempt of getting the Bishop to dedicate it to the Royal +Martyr--why should not we have our St. Charles as well as the +Romanists?--and it will be quite sweet to hear the vesper-bell tolling +over the sullen moor every evening, in all weathers, and amid all the +changes and chances of this mortal life." + +Sheffield asked what congregation they expected to collect at that hour. + +"That's a low view," answered Bateman; "it does not signify at all. In +real Catholic churches the number of the congregation is nothing to the +purpose; service is for those who come, not for those who stay away." + +"Well," said Sheffield, "I understand what that means when a Roman +Catholic says it; for a priest is supposed to offer sacrifice, which he +can do without a congregation as well as with one. And, again, Catholic +chapels often stand over the bodies of martyrs, or on some place of +miracle, as a record; but our service is 'Common Prayer,' and how can +you have that without a congregation?" + +Bateman replied that, even if members of the University did not drop in, +which he expected, at least the bell would be a memento far and near. + +"Ah, I see," retorted Sheffield, "the use will be the reverse of what +you said just now; it is not for those that come, but for those who stay +away. The congregation is outside, not inside; it's an outside concern. +I once saw a tall church-tower--so it appeared from the road; but on the +sides you saw it was but a thin wall, made to look like a tower, in +order to give the church an imposing effect. Do run up such a bit of a +wall, and put the bell in it." + +"There's another reason," answered Bateman, "for restoring the chapel, +quite independent of the service. It has been a chapel from time +immemorial, and was consecrated by our Catholic forefathers." + +Sheffield argued that this would be as good a reason for keeping up the +Mass as for keeping up the chapel. + +"We do keep up the Mass," said Bateman; "we offer our Mass every Sunday, +according to the rite of the English Cyprian, as honest Peter Heylin +calls him; what would you have more?" + +Whether Sheffield understood this or no, at least it was beyond Charles. +Was the Common Prayer the English Mass, or the Communion-service, or the +Litany, or the sermon, or any part of these? or were Bateman's words +really a confession that there were clergymen who actually said the +Popish Mass once a week? Bateman's precise meaning, however, is lost to +posterity; for they had by this time arrived at the door of the chapel. +It had once been the chapel of an almshouse; a small farmhouse stood +near; but, for population, it was plain no "church accommodation" was +wanted. Before entering, Charles hung back, and whispered to his friend +that he did not know Bateman. An introduction, in consequence, took +place. "Reding of St. Saviour's--Bateman of Nun's Hall;" after which +ceremony, in place of holy water, they managed to enter the chapel in +company. + +It was as pretty a building as Bateman had led them to expect, and very +prettily done up. There was a stone altar in the best style, a credence +table, a piscina, what looked like a tabernacle, and a couple of +handsome brass candlesticks. Charles asked the use of the piscina--he +did not know its name--and was told that there was always a piscina in +the old churches in England, and that there could be no proper +restoration without it. Next he asked the meaning of the beautifully +wrought closet or recess above the altar; and received for answer, that +"our sister churches of the Roman obedience always had a tabernacle for +reserving the consecrated bread." Here Charles was brought to a stand: +on which Sheffield asked the use of the niches; and was told by Bateman +that images of saints were forbidden by the canon, but that his friends, +in all these matters, did what they could. Lastly, he asked the meaning +of the candlesticks; and was told that, Catholicly-minded as their +Bishop was, they had some fear lest he would object to altar lights in +service--at least at first: but it was plain that the _use_ of the +candlesticks was to hold candles. Having had their fill of gazing and +admiring, they turned to proceed on their walk, but could not get off an +invitation to breakfast, in a few days, at Bateman's lodgings in the +Turl. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Neither of the friends had what are called _views_ in religion; by which +expression we do not here signify that neither had taken up a certain +line of opinion, though this was the case also; but that neither of +them--how could they at their age?--had placed his religion on an +intellectual basis. It may be as well to state more distinctly what a +"view" is, what it is to be "viewy," and what is the state of those who +have no "views." When, then; men for the first time look upon the world +of politics or religion, all that they find there meets their mind's eye +as a landscape addresses itself for the first time to a person who has +just gained his bodily sight. One thing is as far off as another; there +is no perspective. The connection of fact with fact, truth with truth, +the bearing of fact upon truth, and truth upon fact, what leads to what, +what are points primary and what secondary,--all this they have yet to +learn. It is all a new science to them, and they do not even know their +ignorance of it. Moreover, the world of to-day has no connection in +their minds with the world of yesterday; time is not a stream, but +stands before them round and full, like the moon. They do not know what +happened ten years ago, much less the annals of a century; the past does +not live to them in the present; they do not understand the worth of +contested points; names have no associations for them, and persons +kindle no recollections. They hear of men, and things, and projects, and +struggles, and principles; but everything comes and goes like the wind, +nothing makes an impression, nothing penetrates, nothing has its place +in their minds. They locate nothing; they have no system. They hear and +they forget; or they just recollect what they have once heard, they +can't tell where. Thus they have no consistency in their arguments; that +is, they argue one way to-day, and not exactly the other way to-morrow, +but indirectly the other way, at random. Their lines of argument +diverge; nothing comes to a point; there is no one centre in which their +mind sits, on which their judgment of men and things proceeds. This is +the state of many men all through life; and miserable politicians or +Churchmen they make, unless by good luck they are in safe hands, and +ruled by others, or are pledged to a course. Else they are at the mercy +of the winds and waves; and, without being Radical, Whig, Tory, or +Conservative, High Church or Low Church, they do Whig acts, Tory acts, +Catholic acts, and heretical acts, as the fit takes them, or as events +or parties drive them. And sometimes, when their self-importance is +hurt, they take refuge in the idea that all this is a proof that they +are unfettered, moderate, dispassionate, that they observe the mean, +that they are "no party men;" when they are, in fact, the most helpless +of slaves; for our strength in this world is, to be the subjects of the +reason, and our liberty, to be captives of the truth. + +Now Charles Reding, a youth of twenty, could not be supposed to have +much of a view in religion or politics; but no clever man allows himself +to judge of things simply at hap-hazard; he is obliged, from a sort of +self-respect, to have some rule or other, true or false; and Charles was +very fond of the maxim, which he has already enunciated, that we must +measure people by what they are, and not by what they are not. He had a +great notion of loving every one--of looking kindly on every one; he was +pierced with the sentiment which he had seen in a popular volume of +poetry, that-- + + "Christian souls, ... + Though worn and soil'd with sinful clay, + Are yet, to eyes that see them true, + All glistening with baptismal dew." + +He liked, as he walked along the road, and met labourer or horseman, +gentleman or beggar, to say to himself, "He is a Christian." And when he +came to Oxford, he came there with an enthusiasm so simple and warm as +to be almost childish. He reverenced even the velvet of the Pro.; nay, +the cocked hat which preceded the Preacher had its claim on his +deferential regard. Without being himself a poet, he was in the season +of poetry, in the sweet spring-time, when the year is most beautiful, +because it is new. Novelty was beauty to a heart so open and cheerful as +his; not only because it was novelty, and had its proper charm as such, +but because when we first see things, we see them in a "gay confusion," +which is a principal element of the poetical. As time goes on, and we +number and sort and measure things--as we gain views--we advance towards +philosophy and truth, but we recede from poetry. + +When we ourselves were young, we once on a time walked on a hot +summer-day from Oxford to Newington--a dull road, as any one who has +gone it knows; yet it was new to us; and we protest to you, reader, +believe it or not, laugh or not, as you will, to us it seemed on that +occasion quite touchingly beautiful; and a soft melancholy came over us, +of which the shadows fall even now, when we look back on that dusty, +weary journey. And why? because every object which met us was unknown +and full of mystery. A tree or two in the distance seemed the beginning +of a great wood, or park, stretching endlessly; a hill implied a vale +beyond, with that vale's history; the bye-lanes, with their green +hedges, wound and vanished, yet were not lost to the imagination. Such +was our first journey; but when we had gone it several times, the mind +refused to act, the scene ceased to enchant, stern reality alone +remained; and we thought it one of the most tiresome, odious roads we +ever had occasion to traverse. + +But to return to our story. Such was Reding. But Sheffield, on the other +hand, without possessing any real view of things more than Charles, was, +at this time, fonder of hunting for views, and more in danger of taking +up false ones. That is, he was "viewy," in a bad sense of the word. He +was not satisfied intellectually with things as they are; he was +critical, impatient to reduce things to system, pushed principles too +far, was fond of argument, partly from pleasure in the exercise, partly +because he was perplexed, though he did not lay anything very much to +heart. + +They neither of them felt any special interest in the controversy going +on in the University and country about High and Low Church. Sheffield +had a sort of contempt for it; and Reding felt it to be bad taste to be +unusual or prominent in anything. An Eton acquaintance had asked him to +go and hear one of the principal preachers of the Catholic party, and +offered to introduce him; but he had declined it. He did not like, he +said, mixing himself up with party; he had come to Oxford to get his +degree, and not to take up opinions; he thought his father would not +relish it; and, moreover, he felt some little repugnance to such +opinions and such people, under the notion that the authorities of the +University were opposed to the whole movement. He could not help looking +at its leaders as demagogues; and towards demagogues he felt an +unmeasured aversion and contempt. He did not see why clergymen, however +respectable, should be collecting undergraduates about them; and he +heard stories of their way of going on which did not please him. +Moreover, he did not like the specimens of their followers whom he fell +in with; they were forward, or they "talked strong," as it was called; +did ridiculous, extravagant acts; and sometimes neglected their college +duties for things which did not concern them. He was unfortunate, +certainly: for this is a very unfair account of the most exemplary men +of that day, who doubtless are still, as clergymen or laymen, the +strength of the Anglican Church; but in all collections of men, the +straw and rubbish (as Lord Bacon says) float on the top, while gold and +jewels sink and are hidden. Or, what is more apposite still, many men, +or most men, are a compound of precious and worthless together, and +their worthless swims, and their precious lies at the bottom. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Bateman was one of these composite characters: he had much good and much +cleverness in him; but he was absurd, and he afforded a subject of +conversation to the two friends as they proceeded on their walk. "I wish +there was less of fudge and humbug everywhere," said Sheffield; "one +might shovel off cartloads from this place, and not miss it." + +"If you had your way," answered Charles, "you would scrape off the roads +till there was nothing to walk on. We are forced to walk on what you +call humbug; we put it under our feet, but we use it." + +"I cannot think that; it's like doing evil that good may come. I see +shams everywhere. I go into St. Mary's, and I hear men spouting out +commonplaces in a deep or a shrill voice, or with slow, clear, quiet +emphasis and significant eyes--as that Bampton preacher not long ago, +who assured us, apropos of the resurrection of the body, that 'all +attempts to resuscitate the inanimate corpse by natural methods had +hitherto been experimentally abortive.' I go into the place where +degrees are given--the Convocation, I think--and there one hears a deal +of unmeaning Latin for hours, graces, dispensations, and proctors +walking up and down for nothing; all in order to keep up a sort of ghost +of things passed away for centuries, while the real work might be done +in a quarter of an hour. I fall in with this Bateman, and he talks to me +of rood-lofts without roods, and piscinae without water, and niches +without images, and candlesticks without lights, and masses without +Popery; till I feel, with Shakespeare, that 'all the world's a stage.' +Well, I go to Shaw, Turner, and Brown, very different men, pupils of Dr. +Gloucester--you know whom I mean--and they tell us that we ought to put +up crucifixes by the wayside, in order to excite religious feeling." + +"Well, I really think you are hard on all these people," said Charles; +"it is all very much like declamation; you would destroy externals of +every kind. You are like the man in one of Miss Edgeworth's novels, who +shut his ears to the music that he might laugh at the dancers." + +"What is the music to which I close my ears?" asked Sheffield. + +"To the meaning of those various acts," answered Charles; "the pious +feeling which accompanies the sight of the image is the music." + +"To those who have the pious feeling, certainly," said Sheffield; "but +to put up images in England in order to create the feeling is like +dancing to create music." + +"I think you are hard upon England," replied Charles; "we are a +religious people." + +"Well, I will put it differently: do _you_ like music?" + +"You ought to know," said Charles, "whom I have frightened so often with +my fiddle." + +"Do you like dancing?" + +"To tell the truth," said Charles, "I don't." + +"Nor do I," said Sheffield; "it makes me laugh to think what I have +done, when a boy, to escape dancing; there is something so absurd in it; +and one had to be civil and to duck to young girls who were either prim +or pert. I have behaved quite rudely to them sometimes, and then have +been annoyed at my ungentlemanlikeness, and not known how to get out of +the scrape." + +"Well, I didn't know we were so like each other in anything," said +Charles; "oh, the misery I have endured, in having to stand up to dance, +and to walk about with a partner!--everybody looking at me, and I so +awkward. It has been a torture to me days before and after." + +They had by this time come up to the foot of the rough rising ground +which leads to the sort of table-land on the edge of which Oxley is +placed; and they stood still awhile to see some equestrians take the +hurdles. They then mounted the hill, and looked back upon Oxford. + +"Perhaps you call those beautiful spires and towers a sham," said +Charles, "because you see their tops and not their bottoms?" + +"Whereabouts were we in our argument?" said the other, reminded that +they had been wandering from it for the last ten minutes. "Oh, I +recollect; I know what I was at. I was saying that you liked music, but +didn't like dancing; music leads another person to dance, but not you; +and dancing does not increase but diminishes the intensity of the +pleasure you find in music. In like manner, it is a mere piece of +pedantry to make a religious nation, like the English, more religious by +placing images in the streets; this is not the English way, and only +offends us. If it were our way, it would come naturally without any one +telling us. As music incites to dancing, so religion would lead to +images; but as dancing does not improve music to those who do not like +dancing, so ceremonies do not improve religion to those who do not like +ceremonies." + +"Then do you mean," said Charles, "that the English Romanists are shams, +because they use crucifixes?" + +"Stop there," said Sheffield; "now you are getting upon a different +subject. They believe that there is _virtue_ in images; that indeed is +absurd in them, but it makes them quite consistent in honouring them. +They do not put up images as outward shows, merely to create feelings in +the minds of beholders, as Gloucester would do, but they in good, +downright earnest worship images, as being more than they seem, as being +not a mere outside show. They pay them a religious worship, as having +been handled by great saints years ago, as having been used in +pestilences, as having wrought miracles, as having moved their eyes or +bowed their heads; or, at least, as having been blessed by the priest, +and been brought into connection with invisible grace. This is +superstitious, but it is real." + +Charles was not satisfied. "An image is a mode of teaching," he said; +"do you mean to say that a person is a sham merely because he mistakes +the particular mode of teaching best suited to his own country?" + +"I did not say that Dr. Gloucester was a sham," answered Sheffield; "but +that mode of teaching of his was among Protestants a sham and a humbug." + +"But this principle will carry you too far, and destroy itself," said +Charles. "Don't you recollect what Thompson quoted the other day out of +Aristotle, which he had lately begun in lecture with Vincent, and which +we thought so acute--that habits are created by those very acts in which +they manifest themselves when created? We learn to swim well by trying +to swim. Now Bateman, doubtless, wishes to _introduce_ piscinae and +tabernacles; and to wait, before beginning, _till_ they are received, is +like not going into the water till you can swim." + +"Well, but what is Bateman the better when his piscinae are universal?" +asked Sheffield; "what does it _mean_? In the Romish Church it has a +use, I know--I don't know what--but it comes into the Mass. But if +Bateman makes piscinae universal among us, what has he achieved but the +reign of a universal humbug?" + +"But, my dear Sheffield," answered Reding, "consider how many things +there are which, in the course of time, have altered their original +meaning, and yet have a meaning, though a changed one, still. The +judge's wig is no sham, yet it has a history. The Queen, at her +coronation, is said to wear a Roman Catholic vestment, is that a sham? +Does it not still typify and impress upon us the 'divinity that doth +hedge a king,' though it has lost the very meaning which the Church of +Rome gave it? Or are you of the number of those, who, according to the +witticism, think majesty, when deprived of its externals, a jest?" + +"Then you defend the introduction of unmeaning piscinae and +candlesticks?" + +"I think," answered Charles, "that there's a great difference between +reviving and retaining; it may be natural to retain, even while the use +fails, unnatural to revive when it has failed; but this is a question of +discretion and judgment." + +"Then you give it against Bateman?" said Sheffield. + +A slight pause ensued; then Charles added, "But perhaps these men +actually do wish to introduce the realities as well as the externals: +perhaps they wish to use the piscina as well as to have it ... +Sheffield," he continued abruptly, "why are not canonicals a sham, if +piscinae are shams?" + +"Canonicals," said Sheffield, as if thinking about them; "no, canonicals +are no sham; for preaching, I suppose, is the highest ordinance in our +Church, and has the richest dress. The robes of a great preacher cost, I +know, many pounds; for there was one near us who, on leaving, had a +present from the ladies of an entire set, and a dozen pair of worked +slippers into the bargain. But it's all fitting, if preaching is the +great office of the clergy. Next comes the Sacrament, and has the +surplice and hood. And hood," he repeated, musing; "what's that for? no, +it's the scarf. The hood is worn in the University pulpit; what is the +scarf?--it belongs to chaplains, I believe, that is, to _persons_; I +can't make a view out of it." + +"My dear Sheffield," said Charles, "you have cut your own throat. Here +you have been trying to give a sense to the clerical dress, and cannot; +are you then prepared to call it a sham? Answer me this single +question--Why does a clergyman wear a surplice when he reads prayers? +Nay, I will put it more simply--Why can only a clergyman read prayers in +church?--Why cannot I?" + +Sheffield hesitated, and looked serious. "Do you know," he said, "you +have just pitched on Jeremy Bentham's objection. In his 'Church of +Englandism' he proposes, if I recollect rightly, that a parish-boy +should be taught to read the Liturgy; and he asks, Why send a person to +the University for three or four years at an enormous expense, why teach +him Latin and Greek, on purpose to read what any boy could be taught to +read at a dame's school? What is the _virtue_ of a clergyman's reading? +Something of this kind, Bentham says; and," he added, slowly, "to tell +the truth, _I_ don't know how to answer him." + +Reding was surprised, and shocked, and puzzled too; he did not know what +to say; when the conversation was, perhaps fortunately, interrupted. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Every year brings changes and reforms. We do not know what is the state +of Oxley Church now; it may have rood-loft, piscina, sedilia, all new; +or it may be reformed backwards, the seats on principle turning from the +Communion-table, and the pulpit planted in the middle of the aisle; but +at the time when these two young men walked through the churchyard, +there was nothing very good or very bad to attract them within the +building; and they were passing on, when they observed, coming out of +the church, what Sheffield called an elderly don, a fellow of a college, +whom Charles knew. He was a man of family, and had some little property +of his own, had been a contemporary of his father's at the University, +and had from time to time been a guest at the parsonage. Charles had, in +consequence, known him from a boy; and now, since he came into +residence, he had, as was natural, received many small attentions from +him. Once, when he was late for his own hall, he had given him his +dinner in his rooms; he had taken him out on a fishing expedition +towards Faringdon; and had promised him tickets for some ladies, +lionesses of his, who were coming up to the Commemoration. He was a +shrewd, easy-tempered, free-spoken man, of small desires and no +ambition; of no very keen sensibilities or romantic delicacies, and very +little religious pretension; that is, though unexceptionable in his +deportment, he hated the show of religion, and was impatient at those +who affected it. He had known the University for thirty years, and +formed a right estimate of most things in it. He had come out to Oxley +to take a funeral for a friend, and was now returning home. He hallooed +to Charles, who, though feeling at first awkward on finding himself with +two such different friends and in two such different relations, was, +after a time, partially restored to himself by the unconcern of Mr. +Malcolm; and the three walked home together. Yet, even to the last, he +did not quite know how and where to walk, and how to carry himself, +particularly when they got near Oxford, and he fell in with various +parties who greeted him in passing. + +Charles, by way of remark, said they had been looking in at a pretty +little chapel on the common, which was now in the course of repair. Mr. +Malcolm laughed. "So, Charles," he said, "_you're_ bit with the new +fashion." + +Charles coloured, and asked, "What fashion?" adding, that a friend, by +accident, had taken them in. + +"You ask what fashion," said Mr. Malcolm; "why, the newest, latest +fashion. This is a place of fashions; there have been many fashions in +my time. The greater part of the residents, that is, the boys, change +once in three years; the fellows and tutors, perhaps, in half a dozen; +and every generation has its own fashion. There is no principle of +stability in Oxford, except the Heads, and they are always the same, +and always will be the same to the end of the chapter. What is in now," +he asked, "among you youngsters--drinking or cigars?" + +Charles laughed modestly, and said he hoped drinking had gone out +everywhere. + +"Worse things may come in," said Mr. Malcolm; "but there are fashions +everywhere. There was once a spouting club, perhaps it is in favour +still; before it was the music-room. Once geology was all the rage; now +it is theology; soon it will be architecture, or medieval antiquities, +or editions and codices. Each wears out in its turn; all depends on one +or two active men; but the secretary takes a wife, or the professor gets +a stall; and then the meetings are called irregularly, and nothing is +done in them, and so gradually the affair dwindles and dies." + +Sheffield asked whether the present movement had not spread too widely +through the country for such a termination; he did not know much about +it himself, but the papers were full of it, and it was the talk of every +neighbourhood; it was not confined to Oxford. + +"I don't know about the country," said Mr. Malcolm, "that is a large +question; but it has not the elements of stability here. These gentlemen +will take livings and marry, and that will be the end of the business. I +am not speaking against them; they are, I believe, very respectable men; +but they are riding on the spring-tide of a fashion." + +Charles said it was a nuisance to see the party-spirit it introduced. +Oxford ought to be a place of quiet and study; peace and the Muses +always went together; whereas there was talk, talk, in every quarter. A +man could not go about his duties in a natural way, and take every one +as he came, but was obliged to take part in questions, and to consider +points which he might wish to put from him, and must sport an opinion +when he really had none to give. + +Mr. Malcolm assented in a half-absent way, looking at the view before +him, and seemingly enjoying it. "People call this county ugly," said he, +"and perhaps it is; but whether I am used to it or no, I always am +pleased with it. The lights are always new; and thus the landscape, if +it deserves the name, is always presented in a new dress. I have known +Shotover there take the most opposite hues, sometimes purple, sometimes +a bright saffron or tawny orange." Here he stopped: "Yes, you speak of +party-spirit; very true, there's a good deal of it.... No, I don't think +there's much," he continued, rousing; "certainly there is more division +just at this minute in Oxford, but there always is division, always +rivalry. The separate societies have their own interests and honour to +maintain, and quarrel, as the orders do in the Church of Rome. No, +that's too grand a comparison; rather, Oxford is like an almshouse for +clergymen's widows. Self-importance, jealousy, tittle-tattle are the +order of the day. It has always been so in my time. Two great ladies, +Mrs. Vice-Chancellor and Mrs. Divinity-Professor, can't agree, and have +followings respectively: or Vice-Chancellor himself, being a new broom, +sweeps all the young Masters clean out of Convocation House, to their +great indignation: or Mr. Slaney, Dean of St. Peter's, does not scruple +to say in a stage-coach that Mr. Wood is no scholar; on which the said +Wood calls him in return 'slanderous Slaney;' or the elderly Mr. Barge, +late Senior Fellow of St. Michael's, thinks that his pretty bride has +not been received with due honours; or Dr. Crotchet is for years kept +out of his destined bishopric by a sinister influence; or Mr. Professor +Carraway has been infamously shown up, in the _Edinburgh_, by an idle +fellow whom he plucked in the schools; or (_majora movemus_) three +colleges interchange a mortal vow of opposition to a fourth; or the +young working Masters conspire against the Heads. Now, however, we are +improving; if we must quarrel, let it be the rivalry of intellect and +conscience, rather than of interest or temper; let us contend for +things, not for shadows." + +Sheffield was pleased at this, and ventured to say that the present +state of things was more real, and therefore more healthy. Mr. Malcolm +did not seem to hear him, for he did not reply; and, as they were now +approaching the bridge again, the conversation stopped. Sheffield looked +slily at Charles, as Mr. Malcolm proceeded with them up High Street; and +both of them had the triumph and the amusement of being convoyed safely +past a proctor, who was patrolling it, under the protection of a +Master. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The walk to Oxley had not been the first or the second occasion on which +Charles had, in one shape or other, encountered Sheffield's views about +realities and shams; and his preachments had begun to make an impression +on him; that is, he felt that there was truth in them at bottom, and a +truth new to him. He was not a person to let a truth sleep in his mind; +though it did not vegetate very quickly, it was sure ultimately to be +pursued into its consequences, and to affect his existing opinions. In +the instance before us, he saw Sheffield's principle was more or less +antagonistic to his own favourite maxim, that it was a duty to be +pleased with every one. Contradictions could not both be real: when an +affirmative was true, a negative was false. All doctrines could not be +equally sound: there was a right and a wrong. The theory of dogmatic +truth, as opposed to latitudinarianism (he did not know their names or +their history, or suspect what was going on within him), had in the +course of these his first terms, gradually begun to energise in his +mind. Let him but see the absurdities of the latitudinarian principle, +when carried out, and he is likely to be still more opposed to it. + +Bateman, among his peculiarities, had a notion that bringing persons of +contrary sentiments together was the likeliest way of making a party +agreeable, or at least useful. He had done his best to give his +breakfast, to which our friends were invited, this element of +perfection; not, however, to his own satisfaction; for with all his +efforts, he had but picked up Mr. Freeborn, a young Evangelical Master, +with whom Sheffield was acquainted; a sharp, but not very wise freshman, +who, having been spoiled at home, and having plenty of money, professed +to be _aesthetic_, and kept his college authorities in a perpetual fidget +lest he should some morning wake up a Papist; and a friend of his, a +nice, modest-looking youth, who, like a mouse, had keen darting eyes, +and ate his bread and butter in absolute silence. + +They had hardly seated themselves, and Sheffield was pouring out coffee, +and a plate of muffins was going round, and Bateman was engaged, +saucepan in hand, in the operation of landing his eggs, now boiled, upon +the table, when our flighty youth, whose name was White, observed how +beautiful the Catholic custom was of making eggs the emblem of the +Easter-festival. "It is truly Catholic," said he; "for it is retained in +parts of England, you have it in Russia, and in Rome itself, where an +egg is served up on every plate through the Easter-week, after being, I +believe, blessed; and it is as expressive and significant as it is +Catholic." + +"Beautiful indeed!" said their host; "so pretty, so sweet; I wonder +whether our Reformers thought of it, or the profound Hooker,--he was +full of types--or Jewell. You recollect the staff Jewell gave Hooker: +that was a type. It was like the sending of Elisha's staff by his +servant to the dead child." + +"Oh, my dear, dear Bateman," cried Sheffield, "you are making Hooker +Gehazi!" + +"That's just the upshot of such trifling," said Mr. Freeborn; "you never +know where to find it; it proves anything, and disproves anything." + +"That is only till it's sanctioned," said White; "When the Catholic +Church sanctions it, we're safe." + +"Yes, we're safe," said Bateman; "it's safe when it's Catholic." + +"Yes," continued White, "things change their nature altogether when they +are taken up by the Catholic Church: that's how we are allowed to do +evil that good may come." + +"What's that?" said Bateman. + +"Why," said White, "the Church makes evil good." + +"My dear White," said Bateman gravely, "that's going too far; it is +indeed." + +Mr. Freeborn suspended his breakfast operations, and sat back in his +chair. + +"Why," continued White, "is not idolatry wrong--yet image-worship is +right?" + +Mr. Freeborn was in a state of collapse. + +"That's a bad instance, White," said Sheffield; "there _are_ people in +the world who are uncatholic enough to think image-worship is wrong, as +well as idolatry." + +"A mere Jesuitical distinction," said Freeborn with emotion. + +"Well," said White, who did not seem in great awe of the young M.A., +though some years, of course, his senior, "I will take a better +instance: who does not know that baptism gives grace? yet there were +heathen baptismal rites, which, of course, were devilish." + +"I should not be disposed, Mr. White, to grant you so much as you would +wish," said Freeborn, "about the virtue of baptism." + +"Not about Christian baptism?" asked White. + +"It is easy," answered Freeborn, "to mistake the sign for the thing +signified." + +"Not about Catholic baptism?" repeated White. + +"Catholic baptism is a mere deceit and delusion," retorted Mr. Freeborn. + +"Oh, my dear Freeborn," interposed Bateman, "now _you_ are going too +far; you are indeed." + +"Catholic, Catholic--I don't know what you mean," said Freeborn. + +"I mean," said White, "the baptism of the one Catholic Church of which +the Creed speaks: it's quite intelligible." + +"But what do you mean by the Catholic Church?" asked Freeborn. + +"The Anglican," answered Bateman. + +"The Roman," answered White; both in the same breath. + +There was a general laugh. + +"There is nothing to laugh at," said Bateman; "Anglican and Roman are +one." + +"One! impossible," cried Sheffield. + +"Much worse than impossible," observed Mr. Freeborn. + +"I should make a distinction," said Bateman: "I should say, they are +one, except the corruptions of the Romish Church." + +"That is, they are one, except where they differ," said Sheffield. + +"Precisely so," said Bateman. + +"Rather, _I_ should say," objected Mr. Freeborn, "two, except where they +agree." + +"That's just the issue," said Sheffield; "Bateman says that the Churches +are one except when they are two; and Freeborn says that they are two +except when they are one." + +It was a relief at this moment that the cook's boy came in with a dish +of hot sausages; but though a relief, it was not a diversion; the +conversation proceeded. Two persons did not like it; Freeborn, who was +simply disgusted at the doctrine, and Reding, who thought it a bore; yet +it was the bad luck of Freeborn forthwith to set Charles against him, as +well as the rest, and to remove the repugnance which he had to engage in +the dispute. Freeborn, in fact, thought theology itself a mistake, as +substituting, as he considered, worthless intellectual notions for the +vital truths of religion; so he now went on to observe, putting down his +knife and fork, that it really was to him inconceivable, that real +religion should depend on metaphysical distinctions, or outward +observances; that it was quite a different thing in Scripture; that +Scripture said much of faith and holiness, but hardly a word about +Churches and forms. He proceeded to say that it was the great and evil +tendency of the human mind to interpose between itself and its Creator +some self-invented mediator, and it did not matter at all whether that +human device was a rite, or a creed, or a form of prayer, or good works, +or communion with particular Churches--all were but "flattering unctions +to the soul," if they were considered necessary; the only safe way of +using them was to use them with the feeling that you might dispense with +them; that none of them went to the root of the matter, for that faith, +that is, firm belief that God had forgiven you, was the one thing +needful; that where that one thing was present, everything else was +superfluous; that where it was wanting, nothing else availed. So +strongly did he hold this, that (he confessed he put it pointedly, but +still not untruly), where true faith was present, a person might be +anything in profession; an Arminian, a Calvinist, an Episcopalian, a +Presbyterian, a Swedenborgian--nay, a Unitarian--he would go further, +looking at White, a Papist, yet be in a state of salvation. + +Freeborn came out rather more strongly than in his sober moments he +would have approved; but he was a little irritated, and wished to have +his turn of speaking. It was altogether a great testification. + +"Thank you for your liberality to the poor Papists," said White; "it +seems they are safe if they are hypocrites, professing to be Catholics, +while they are Protestants in heart." + +"Unitarians, too," said Sheffield, "are debtors to your liberality; it +seems a man need not fear to believe too little, so that he feels a good +deal." + +"Rather," said White, "if he believes himself forgiven, he need not +believe anything else." + +Reding put in his word; he said that in the Prayer Book, belief in the +Holy Trinity was represented, not as an accident, but as "before all +things" necessary to salvation. + +"That's not a fair answer, Reding," said Sheffield; "what Mr. Freeborn +observed was, that there's no creed in the Bible; and you answer that +there is a creed in the Prayer Book." + +"Then the Bible says one thing, and the Prayer Book another," said +Bateman. + +"No," answered Freeborn; "The Prayer Book only _deduces_ from Scripture; +the Athanasian Creed is a human invention; true, but human, and to be +received, as one of the Articles expressly says, because 'founded on +Scripture.' Creeds are useful in their place, so is the Church; but +neither Creed nor Church is religion." + +"Then why do you make so much of your doctrine of 'faith only'?" said +Bateman; "for that is not in Scripture, and is but a human deduction." + +"_My_ doctrine!" cried Freeborn; "why it's in the Articles; the Articles +expressly say that we are justified by faith only." + +"The Articles are not Scripture any more than the Prayer Book," said +Sheffield. + +"Nor do the Articles say that the doctrine they propound is necessary +for salvation," added Bateman. + +All this was very unfair on Freeborn, though he had provoked it. Here +were four persons on him at once, and the silent fifth apparently a +sympathiser. Sheffield talked through malice; White from habit; Reding +came in because he could not help it; and Bateman spoke on principle; he +had a notion that he was improving Freeborn's views by this process of +badgering. At least he did not improve his temper, which was suffering. +Most of the party were undergraduates; he (Freeborn) was a Master; it +was too bad of Bateman. He finished in silence his sausage, which had +got quite cold. The conversation flagged; there was a rise in toast and +muffins; coffee-cups were put aside, and tea flowed freely. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Freeborn did not like to be beaten; he began again. Religion, he said, +was a matter of the heart; no one could interpret Scripture rightly +whose heart was not right. Till our eyes were enlightened, to dispute +about the sense of Scripture, to attempt to deduce from Scripture, was +beating about the bush: it was like the blind disputing about colours. + +"If this is true," said Bateman, "no one ought to argue about religion +at all; but you were the first to do so, Freeborn." + +"Of course," answered Freeborn, "those who have _found_ the truth are +the very persons to argue, for they have the gift." + +"And the very last persons to persuade," said Sheffield; "for they have +the gift all to themselves." + +"Therefore true Christians should argue with each other, and with no one +else," said Bateman. + +"But those are the very persons who don't want it," said Sheffield; +"reasoning must be for the unconverted, not for the converted. It is the +means of seeking." + +Freeborn persisted that the reason of the unconverted was carnal, and +that such could not understand Scripture. + +"I have always thought," said Reding, "that reason was a general gift, +though faith is a special and personal one. If faith is really rational, +all ought to see that it is rational; else, from the nature of the case, +it is not rational." + +"But St. Paul says," answered Freeborn, "that 'to the natural man the +things of the Spirit are foolishness.'" + +"But how are we to arrive at truth at all," said Reding, "except by +reason? It is the appointed method for our guidance. Brutes go by +instinct, men by reason." + +They had fallen on a difficult subject; all were somewhat puzzled except +White, who had not been attending, and was simply wearied; he now +interposed. "It would be a dull world," he said, "if men went by reason: +they may think they do, but they don't. Really, they are led by their +feelings, their affections, by the sense of the beautiful, and the good, +and the holy. Religion is the beautiful; the clouds, sun, and sky, the +fields and the woods, are religion." + +"This would make all religions true," said Freeborn, "good and bad." + +"No," answered White, "heathen rites are bloody and impure, not +beautiful; and Mahometanism is as cold and as dry as any Calvinistic +meeting. The Mahometans have no altars or priests, nothing but a pulpit +and a preacher." + +"Like St. Mary's," said Sheffield. + +"Very like," said White; "we have no life or poetry in the Church of +England; the Catholic Church alone is beautiful. You would see what I +mean if you went into a foreign cathedral, or even into one of the +Catholic churches in our large towns. The celebrant, deacon, and +subdeacon, acolytes with lights, the incense, and the chanting--all +combine to one end, one act of worship. You feel it _is_ really a +worshipping; every sense, eyes, ears, smell, are made to know that +worship is going on. The laity on the floor saying their beads, or +making their acts; the choir singing out the _Kyrie_; and the priest and +his assistants bowing low, and saying the _Confiteor_ to each other. +This is worship, and it is far above reason." + +This was spoken with all his heart; but it was quite out of keeping with +the conversation which had preceded it, and White's poetry was almost as +disagreeable to the party as Freeborn's prose. + +"White, you should turn Catholic out and out," said Sheffield. + +"My dear good fellow," said Bateman, "think what you are saying. You +can't really have gone to a schismatical chapel. Oh, for shame!" + +Freeborn observed, gravely, that if the two Churches _were_ one, as had +been maintained, he could not see, do what he would, why it was wrong to +go to and fro from one to the other. + +"You forget," said Bateman to White, "you have, or might have, all this +in your own Church, without the Romish corruptions." + +"As to the Romish corruptions," answered White, "I know very little +about them." + +Freeborn groaned audibly. + +"I know very little about them," repeated White eagerly, "very little; +but what is that to the purpose? We must take things as we find them. I +don't like what is bad in the Catholic Church, if there is bad, but what +is good. I do not go to it for what is bad, but for what is good. You +can't deny that what I admire is very good and beautiful. Only you try +to introduce it into your own Church. You would give your ears, you know +you would, to hear the _Dies irae_." + +Here a general burst of laughter took place. White was an Irishman. It +was a happy interruption; the party rose up from table, and a tap at +that minute, which sounded at the door, succeeded in severing the thread +of the conversation. + +It was a printseller's man with a large book of plates. + +"Well timed," said Bateman;--"put them down, Baker: or rather give them +to me;--I can take the opinion of you men on a point I have much at +heart. You know I wanted you, Freeborn, to go with me to see my chapel; +Sheffield and Reding have looked into it. Well now, just see here." + +He opened the portfolio; it contained views of the Campo Santo at Pisa. +The leaves were slowly turned over in silence, the spectators partly +admiring, partly not knowing what to think, partly wondering at what was +coming. + +"What do you think my plan is?" he continued. "You twitted me, +Sheffield, because my chapel would be useless. Now I mean to get a +cemetery attached to it; there is plenty of land; and then the chapel +will become a chantry. But now, what will you say if we have a copy of +these splendid medieval monuments round the burial-place, both sculpture +and painting? Now, Sheffield, Mr. Critic, what do you say to that?" + +"A most admirable plan," said Sheffield, "and quite removes my +objections.... A chantry! what is that? Don't they say Mass in it for +the dead?" + +"Oh, no, no, no," said Bateman, in fear of Freeborn; "we'll have none of +your Popery. It will be a simple, guileless chapel, in which the Church +Service will be read." + +Meanwhile Sheffield was slowly turning over the plates. He stopped at +one. "What will you do with that figure?" he said, pointing to a +Madonna. + +"Oh, it will be best, most prudent, to leave it out; certainly, +certainly." + +Sheffield soon began again: "But look here, my good fellow, what do you +do with these saints and angels? do see, why here's a complete legend; +do you mean to have this? Here's a set of miracles, and a woman invoking +a saint in heaven." + +Bateman looked cautiously at them, and did not answer. He would have +shut the book, but Sheffield wished to see some more. Meanwhile he said, +"Oh yes, true, there _are_ some things; but I have an expedient for all +this; I mean to make it all allegorical. The Blessed Virgin shall be the +Church, and the saints shall be cardinal and other virtues; and as to +that saint's life, St. Ranieri's, it shall be a Catholic 'Pilgrim's +Progress.'" + +"Good! then you must drop all these popes and bishops, copes and +chalices," said Sheffield; "and have their names written under the rest, +that people mayn't take them for saints and angels. Perhaps you had +better have scrolls from their mouths, in old English. This St. Thomas +is stout; make him say, 'I am Mr. Dreadnought,' or 'I am Giant Despair;' +and, since this beautiful saint bears a sort of dish, make her 'Mrs. +Creature Comfort.' But look here," he continued, "a whole set of devils; +are _these_ to be painted up?" + +Bateman attempted forcibly to shut the book; Sheffield went on: "St. +Anthony's temptations; what's this? Here's the fiend in the shape of a +cat on a wine-barrel." + +"Really, really," said Bateman, disgusted, and getting possession of it, +"you are quite offensive, quite. We will look at them when you are more +serious." + +Sheffield indeed was very provoking, and Bateman more good-humoured than +many persons would have been in his place. Meanwhile Freeborn, who had +had his gown in his hand the last two minutes, nodded to his host, and +took his departure by himself; and White and Willis soon followed in +company. + +"Really," said Bateman to Sheffield, when they were gone, "you and +White, each in his own way, are so very rash in your mode of speaking, +and before other people, too. I wished to teach Freeborn a little good +Catholicism, and you have spoilt all. I hoped something would have come +out of this breakfast. But only think of White! it will all out. +Freeborn will tell it to his set. It is very bad, very bad indeed. And +you, my friend, are not much better; never serious. What _could_ you +mean by saying that our Church is not one with the Romish? It was giving +Freeborn such an advantage." + +Sheffield looked provokingly easy; and, leaning with his back against +the mantelpiece, and his coat-tail almost playing with the spout of the +kettle, replied, "You had a most awkward team to drive." Then he added, +looking sideways at him, with his head back, "And why had you, O most +correct of men, the audacity to say that the English Church and the +Romish Church _were_ one?" + +"It must be so," answered Bateman; "there is but one Church--the Creed +says so; would you make two?" + +"I don't speak of doctrine," said Sheffield, "but of fact. I didn't mean +to say that there _were_ two _Churches_; nor to deny that there was one +_Church_. I but denied the fact, that what are evidently two bodies were +one body." + +Bateman thought awhile; and Charles employed himself in scraping down +the soot from the back of the chimney with the poker. He did not wish to +speak, but he was not sorry to listen to such an argument. + +"My good fellow," said Bateman, in a tone of instruction, "you are +making a distinction between a Church and a body which I don't quite +comprehend. You say that there are two bodies, and yet but one Church. +If so, the Church is not a body, but something abstract, a mere name, a +general idea; is _that_ your meaning? if so, you are an honest +Calvinist." + +"You are another," answered Sheffield; "for if you make two visible +Churches, English and Romish, to be one Church, that one Church must be +invisible, not visible. Thus, if I hold an abstract Church, you hold an +invisible one." + +"I do not see that," said Bateman. + +"Prove the two Churches to be one," said Sheffield, "and then I'll prove +something else." + +"Some paradox?" said Bateman. + +"Of course," answered Sheffield, "a huge one; but yours, not mine. Prove +the English and Romish Churches to be in any sense one, and I will prove +by parallel arguments that in the same sense we and the Wesleyans are +one." + +This was a fair challenge. Bateman, however, suddenly put on a demure +look, and was silent. "We are on sacred subjects," he said at length in +a subdued tone, "we are on very sacred subjects; we must be reverent," +and he drew a very long face. + +Sheffield laughed out, nor could Reding stand it. "What is it?" cried +Sheffield; "don't be hard on me? What have I done? Where did the +sacredness begin? I eat my words." + +"Oh, he meant nothing," said Charles, "indeed he did not; he's more +serious than he seems; do answer him; I am interested." + +"Really, I do wish to treat the subject gravely," said Sheffield; "I +will begin again. I am very sorry, indeed I am. Let me put the objection +more reverently." + +Bateman relaxed: "My good Sheffield," he said, "the thing is irreverent, +not the manner. It is irreverent to liken your holy mother to the +Wesleyan schismatics." + +"I repent, I do indeed," said Sheffield; "it was a wavering of faith; it +was very unseemly, I confess it. What can I say more? Look at me; won't +this do? But now tell me, do tell me, _how_ are we one body with the +Romanists, yet the Wesleyans not one body with us?" + +Bateman looked at him, and was satisfied with the expression of his +face. "It's a strange question for you to ask," he said; "I fancied you +were a sharper fellow. Don't you see that we have the apostolical +succession as well as the Romanists?" + +"But Romanists say," answered Sheffield, "that that is not enough for +unity; that we ought to be in communion with the Pope." + +"That's their mistake," answered Bateman. + +"That's just what the Wesleyans say of us," retorted Sheffield, "when we +won't acknowledge _their_ succession; they say it's our mistake." + +"Their succession!" cried Bateman; "they have no succession." + +"Yes, they have," said Sheffield; "they have a ministerial succession." + +"It isn't apostolical," answered Bateman. + +"Yes, but it is evangelical, a succession of doctrine," said Sheffield. + +"Doctrine! Evangelical!" cried Bateman; "whoever heard! that's not +enough; doctrine is not enough without bishops." + +"And succession is not enough without the Pope," answered Sheffield. + +"They act against the bishops," said Bateman, not quite seeing whither +he was going. + +"And we act against the Pope," said Sheffield. + +"We say that the Pope isn't necessary," said Bateman. + +"And they say that bishops are not necessary," returned Sheffield. + +They were out of breath, and paused to see where they stood. Presently +Bateman said, "My good sir, this is a question of _fact_, not of +argumentative cleverness. The question is, whether it is not _true_ that +bishops are necessary to the notion of a Church, and whether it is not +_false_ that Popes are necessary." + +"No, no," cried Sheffield, "the question is this, whether obedience to +our bishops is not necessary to make Wesleyans one body with us, and +obedience to their Pope necessary to make us one body with the +Romanists. You maintain the one, and deny the other; I maintain both. +Maintain both, or deny both: I am consistent; you are inconsistent." + +Bateman was puzzled. + +"In a word," Sheffield added, "succession is not unity, any more than +doctrine." + +"Not unity? What then is unity?" asked Bateman. + +"Oneness of polity," answered Sheffield. + +Bateman thought awhile. "The idea is preposterous," he said: "here we +have _possession_; here we are established since King Lucius's time, or +since St. Paul preached here; filling the island; one continuous Church; +with the same territory, the same succession, the same hierarchy, the +same civil and political position, the same churches. Yes," he +proceeded, "we have the very same fabrics, the memorials of a thousand +years, doctrine stamped and perpetuated in stone; all the mystical +teaching of the old saints. What have the Methodists to do with Catholic +rites? with altars, with sacrifice, with rood-lofts, with fonts, with +niches?--they call it all superstition." + +"Don't be angry with me, Bateman," said Sheffield, "and, before going, I +will put forth a parable. Here's the Church of England, as like a +Protestant Establishment as it can stare; bishops and people, all but a +few like yourselves, call it Protestant; the living body calls itself +Protestant; the living body abjures Catholicism, flings off the name and +the thing, hates the Church of Rome, laughs at sacramental power, +despises the Fathers, is jealous of priestcraft, is a Protestant +reality, is a Catholic sham. This existing reality, which is alive and +no mistake, you wish to top with a filagree-work of screens, dorsals, +pastoral staffs, croziers, mitres, and the like. Now most excellent +Bateman, will you hear my parable? will you be offended at it?" + +Silence gave consent, and Sheffield proceeded. + +"Why, once on a time a negro boy, when his master was away, stole into +his wardrobe, and determined to make himself fine at his master's +expense. So he was presently seen in the streets, naked as usual, but +strutting up and down with a cocked hat on his head, and a pair of white +kid gloves on his hands." + +"Away with you! get out, you graceless, hopeless fellow!" said Bateman, +discharging the sofa-bolster at his head. Meanwhile Sheffield ran to the +door, and quickly found himself with Charles in the street below. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Sheffield and Charles may go their way; but we must follow White and +Willis out of Bateman's lodgings. It was a Saint's day, and they had no +lectures; they walked arm-in-arm along Broad Street, evidently very +intimate, and Willis found his voice: "I can't bear that Freeborn," said +he, "he's such a prig; and I like him the less because I am obliged to +know him." + +"You knew him in the country, I think?" said White. + +"In consequence, he has several times had me to his spiritual +tea-parties, and has introduced me to old Mr. Grimes, a good, +kind-hearted old _fogie_, but an awful evangelical, and his wife worse. +Grimes is the old original religious tea-man, and Freeborn imitates him. +They get together as many men as they can, perhaps twenty freshmen, +bachelors, and masters, who sit in a circle, with cups and saucers in +their hands and hassocks at their knees. Some insufferable person of +Capel Hall or St. Mark's, who hardly speaks English, under pretence of +asking Mr. Grimes some divinity question, holds forth on original sin, +or justification, or assurance, monopolizing the conversation. Then +tea-things go, and a portion of Scripture comes instead; and old Grimes +expounds; very good it is, doubtless, though he is a layman. He's a good +old soul; but no one in the room can stand it; even Mrs. Grimes nods +over her knitting, and some of the dear brothers breathe very audibly. +Mr. Grimes, however, hears nothing but himself. At length he stops; his +hearers wake up, and the hassocks begin. Then we go; and Mr. Grimes and +the St. Mark's man call it a profitable evening. I can't make out why +any one goes twice; yet some men never miss." + +"They all go on faith," said White: "faith in Mr. Grimes." + +"Faith in old Grimes," said Willis; "an old half-pay lieutenant!" + +"Here's a church open," said White; "that's odd; let's go in." + +They entered; an old woman was dusting the pews as if for service. "That +will be all set right," said Willis; "we must have no women, but +sacristans and servers." + +"Then, you know, all these pews will go to the right about. Did you ever +see a finer church for a function?" + +"Where would you put the sacristy?" said Willis; "that closet is meant +for the vestry, but would never be large enough." + +"That depends on the number of altars the church admits," answered +White; "each altar must have its own dresser and wardrobe in the +sacristy." + +"One," said Willis, counting, "where the pulpit stands, that'll be the +high altar; one quite behind, that may be Our Lady's; two, one on each +side of the chancel--four already; to whom do you dedicate them?" + +"The church is not wide enough for those side ones," objected White. + +"Oh, but it is," said Willis; "I have seen, abroad, altars with only one +step to them, and they need not be very broad. I think, too, this wall +admits of an arch--look at the depth of the window; _that_ would be a +gain of room." + +"No," persisted White; "the chancel is too narrow;" and he began to +measure the floor with his pocket-handkerchief. "What would you say is +the depth of an altar from the wall?" he asked. + +On looking up he saw some ladies in the church whom he and Willis +knew--the pretty Miss Boltons--very Catholic girls, and really kind, +charitable persons into the bargain. We cannot add, that they were much +wiser at that time than the two young gentlemen whom they now +encountered; and if any fair reader thinks our account of them a +reflection on Catholic-minded ladies generally, we beg distinctly to +say, that we by no means put them forth as a type of a class; that among +such persons were to be found, as we know well, the gentlest spirits and +the tenderest hearts; and that nothing short of severe fidelity to +historical truth keeps us from adorning these two young persons in +particular with that prudence and good sense with which so many such +ladies were endowed. These two sisters had open hands, if they had not +wise heads; and their object in entering the church (which was not the +church of their own parish) was to see the old woman, who was at once a +subject and instrument of their bounty, and to say a word about her +little grandchildren, in whom they were interested. As may be supposed, +they did not know much of matters ecclesiastical, and they knew less of +themselves; and the latter defect White could not supply, though he was +doing, and had done, his best to remedy the former deficiency; and every +meeting did a little. + +The two parties left the church together, and the gentlemen saw the +ladies home. "We were imagining, Miss Bolton," White said, walking at a +respectful distance from her, "we were imagining St. James's a Catholic +church, and trying to arrange things as they ought to be." + +"What was your first reform?" asked Miss Bolton. + +"I fear," answered White, "it would fare hard with your _protegee_, the +old lady who dusts out the pews." + +"Why, certainly," said Miss Bolton, "because there would be no pews to +dust." + +"But not only in office, but in person, or rather in character, she must +make her exit from the church," said White. + +"Impossible," said Miss Bolton; "are women, then, to remain +Protestants?" + +"Oh, no," answered White, "the good lady will reappear, only in another +character; she will be a widow." + +"And who will take her present place?" + +"A sacristan," answered White; "a sacristan in a cotta. Do you like the +short cotta or the long?" he continued, turning to the younger lady. + +"I?" answered Miss Charlotte; "I always forget, but I think you told us +the Roman was the short one; I'm for the short cotta." + +"You know, Charlotte," said Miss Bolton, "that there's a great reform +going on in England in ecclesiastical vestments." + +"I hate all reforms," answered Charlotte, "from the Reformation +downwards. Besides, we have got some way in our cope; you have seen it, +Mr. White? it's such a sweet pattern." + +"Have you determined what to do with it?" asked Willis. + +"Time enough to think of that," said Charlotte; "it'll take four years +to finish." + +"Four years!" cried White; "we shall be all real Catholics by then; +England will be converted." + +"It will be done just in time for the Bishop," said Charlotte. + +"Oh, it's not good enough for him!" said Miss Bolton; "but it may do in +church for the _Asperges_. How different all things will be!" continued +she; "I don't quite like, though, the idea of a cardinal in Oxford. Must +we be so very Roman? I don't see why we might not be quite Catholic +without the Pope." + +"Oh, you need not be afraid," said White sagely; "things don't go so +apace. Cardinals are not so cheap." + +"Cardinals have so much state and stiffness," said Miss Bolton: "I hear +they never walk without two servants behind them; and they always leave +the room directly dancing begins." + +"Well, I think Oxford must be just cut out for cardinals," said Miss +Charlotte; "can anything be duller than the President's parties? I can +fancy Dr. Bone a cardinal, as he walks round the parks." + +"Oh, it's the genius of the Catholic Church," said White; "you will +understand it better in time. No one is his own master; even the Pope +cannot do as he will; he dines by himself, and speaks by precedent." + +"Of course he does," said Charlotte, "for he is infallible." + +"Nay, if he makes mistakes in the functions," continued White, "he is +obliged to write them down and confess them, lest they should be drawn +into precedents." + +"And he is obliged, during a function, to obey the master of ceremonies, +against his own judgment," said Willis. + +"Didn't you say the Pope confessed, Mr. White?" asked Miss Bolton; "it +has always puzzled me whether the Pope was obliged to confess like +another man." + +"Oh, certainly," answered White, "every one confesses." + +"Well," said Charlotte, "I can't fancy Mr. Hurst of St. Peter's, who +comes here to sing glees, confessing, or some of the grave heads of +houses, who bow so stiffly." + +"They will all have to confess," said White. + +"All?" asked Miss Bolton; "you don't mean converts confess? I thought it +was only old Catholics." + +There was a little pause. + +"And what will the heads of houses be?" asked Miss Charlotte. + +"Abbots or superiors," answered White; "they will bear crosses; and when +they say Mass, there will be a lighted candle in addition." + +"What a good portly abbot the Vice-Chancellor will make!" said Miss +Bolton. + +"Oh, no; he's too short for an abbot," said her sister; "but you have +left out the Chancellor himself: you seem to have provided for every one +else; what will become of him?" + +"The Chancellor is my difficulty," said White gravely. + +"Make him a Knight-Templar," said Willis. + +"The Duke's a queer hand," said White, still thoughtfully: "there's no +knowing what he'll come to. A Knight-Templar--yes; Malta is now English +property; he might revive the order." + +The ladies both laughed. + +"But you have not completed your plan, Mr. White," said Miss Bolton: +"the heads of houses have got wives; how can they become monks?" + +"Oh, the wives will go into convents," said White: "Willis and I have +been making inquiries in the High Street, and they are most +satisfactory. Some of the houses there were once university-halls and +inns, and will easily turn back into convents: all that will be wanted +is grating to the windows." + +"Have you any notion what order they ought to join?" said Miss +Charlotte. + +"That depends on themselves," said White: "no compulsion whatever must +be put on them. _They_ are the judges. But it would be useful to have +two convents--one of an active order, and one contemplative: Ursuline +for instance, and Carmelite of St. Theresa's reform." + +Hitherto their conversation had been on the verge of jest and earnest; +now it took a more pensive tone. + +"The nuns of St. Theresa are very strict, I believe, Mr. White," said +Miss Bolton. + +"Yes," he made reply; "I have fears for the Mrs. Wardens and Mrs. +Principals who at their age undertake it." + +They had got home, and White politely rang the bell. + +"Younger persons," said he tenderly, "are too delicate for such a +sacrifice." + +Louisa was silent; presently she said, "And what will you be, Mr. +White?" + +"I know not," he answered; "I have thought of the Cistercians; they +never speak." + +"Oh, the dear Cistercians!" she said; "St. Bernard wasn't it?--sweet, +heavenly man, and so young! I have seen his picture: such eyes!" + +White was a good-looking man. The nun and the monk looked at each other +very respectfully, and bowed; the other pair went through a similar +ceremony; then it was performed diagonally. The two ladies entered their +home; the two gentlemen retired. + +We must follow the former upstairs. When they entered the drawing-room +they found their mother sitting at the window in her bonnet and shawl, +dipping into a chance volume in that unsettled state which implies that +a person is occupied, if it may be so called, in waiting, more than in +anything else. + +"My dear children," she said as they entered, "where _have_ you been? +the bells have stopped a good quarter of an hour: I fear we must give up +going to church this morning." + +"Impossible, dear mamma," answered Miss Bolton; "we went out punctually +at half-past nine; we did not stop two minutes at your worsted-shop; and +here we are back again." + +"The only thing we did besides," said Charlotte, "was to look in at St. +James's, as the door was open, to say a word or two to poor old Wiggins. +Mr. White was there, and his friend Mr. Willis; and they saw us home." + +"Oh, I understand," answered Mrs. Bolton; "that is the way when young +gentlemen and ladies get together: but at any rate we are late for +church." + +"Oh, no," said Charlotte, "let us set out directly, we shall get in by +the first lesson." + +"My dear child, how can you propose such a thing?" said her mother: "I +would not do so for any consideration; it is so very disgraceful. Better +not go at all." + +"Oh, dearest mamma," said the elder sister, "this certainly _is_ a +prejudice. Why always come in at one time? there is something so formal +in people coming in all at once, and waiting for each other. It is +surely more reasonable to come in when you can: so many things may +hinder persons." + +"Well, my dear Louisa," said her mother, "I like the old way. +It used always to be said to us, Be in your seats before 'When the +wicked man,' and at latest before the 'Dearly Beloved.' That's the good +old-fashioned way. And Mr. Jones and Mr. Pearson used always to sit at +least five minutes in the desk to give us some law, and used to look +round before beginning; and Mr. Jones used frequently to preach against +late comers. I can't argue, but it seems to me reasonable that good +Christians should hear the whole service. They might as well go out +before it's over." + +"Well, but, mamma," said Charlotte, "so it _is_ abroad: they come in and +go out when they please. It's so devotional." + +"My dear girl," said Mrs. Bolton, "I am too old to understand all this; +it's beyond me. I suppose Mr. White has been saying all this to you. +He's a good young man, very amiable and attentive. I have nothing to say +against him, except that he _is_ young, and he'll change his view of +things when he gets older." + +"While we talk, time's going," said Louisa; "is it quite impossible we +should still go to church?" + +"My dear Louisa, I would not walk up the aisle for the world; positively +I should sink into the earth: such a bad example! How can you dream of +such a thing?" + +"Then I suppose nothing's to be done," said Louisa, taking off her +bonnet; "but really it is very sad to make worship so cold and formal a +thing. Twice as many people would go to church if they might be late." + +"Well, my dear, all things are changed now: in my younger days Catholics +were the formal people, and we were the devotional; now it's just the +reverse." + +"But isn't it so, dear mamma?" said Charlotte, "isn't it something much +more beautiful, this continued concourse, flowing and ebbing, changing +yet full, than a way of praying which is as wooden as the +reading-desk?--it's so free and natural." + +"Free and easy, _I_ think," said her mother; "for shame, Charlotte! how +can you speak against the beautiful Church Service; you pain me." + +"I don't," answered Charlotte; "it's a mere puritanical custom, which is +no more part of our Church than the pews are." + +"Common Prayer is offered to all who can come," said Louisa; "Church +should be a privilege, not a mere duty." + +"Well, my dear love, this is more than I can follow. There was young +George Ashton--he always left before the sermon; and when taxed with it, +he said he could not bear an heretical preacher; a boy of eighteen!" + +"But, dearest mamma," said Charlotte, "what _is_ to be done when a +preacher is heretical? what else can be done?--it's so distressing to a +Catholic mind." + +"Catholic, Catholic!" cried Mrs. Bolton, rather vexed; "give me good old +George the Third and the Protestant religion. Those were the times! +Everything went on quietly then. We had no disputes or divisions; no +differences in families. But now it is all otherwise. My head is turned, +I declare; I hear so many strange, out-of-the-way things." + +The young ladies did not answer; one looked out of the window, the other +prepared to leave the room. + +"Well it's a disappointment to us all," said their mother; "you first +hindered me going, then I have hindered you. But I suspect, dear Louisa, +mine is the greater disappointment of the two." + +Louisa turned round from the window. + +"I value the Prayer Book as you cannot do, my love," she continued; "for +I have known what it is to one in deep affliction. May it be long, +dearest girls, before you know it in a similar way; but if affliction +comes on you, depend on it, all these new fancies and fashions will +vanish from you like the wind, and the good old Prayer Book alone will +stand you in any stead." + +They were both touched. + +"Come, my dears; I have spoken too seriously," she added. "Go and take +your things off, and come and let us have some quiet work before +luncheon-time." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Some persons fidget at intellectual difficulties, and, successfully or +not, are ever trying to solve them. Charles was of a different cast of +temper; a new idea was not lost on him, but it did not distress him, if +it was obscure, or conflicted with his habitual view of things. He let +it work its way and find its place, and shape itself within him, by the +slow spontaneous action of the mind. Yet perplexity is not in itself a +pleasant state; and he would have hastened its removal, had he been +able. + +By means of conversations such as those which we have related (to which +many others might be added, which we spare the reader's patience), and +from the diversities of view which he met with in the University, he had +now come, in the course of a year, to one or two conclusions, not very +novel, but very important:--first, that there are a great many opinions +in the world on the most momentous subjects; secondly, that all are not +equally true; thirdly, that it is a duty to hold true opinions; and, +fourthly, that it is uncommonly difficult to get hold of them. He had +been accustomed, as we have seen, to fix his mind on persons, not on +opinions, and to determine to like what was good in every one; but he +had now come to perceive that, to say the least, it was not respectable +in any great question to hold false opinions. It did not matter that +such false opinions were sincerely held,--he could not feel that respect +for a person who held what Sheffield called a sham, with which he +regarded him who held a reality. White and Bateman were cases in point; +they were very good fellows, but he could not endure their unreal way of +talking, though they did not feel it to be unreal themselves. In like +manner, if the Roman Catholic system was untrue, so far was plain +(putting aside higher considerations), that a person who believed in the +power of saints, and prayed to them, was an actor in a great sham, let +him be as sincere as he would. He mistook words for things, and so far +forth, he could not respect him more than he respected White or Bateman. +And so of a Unitarian; if he believed the power of unaided human nature +to be what it was not; if by birth man is fallen, and he thought him +upright, he was holding an absurdity. He might redeem and cover this +blot by a thousand excellences, but a blot it would remain; just as we +should feel a handsome man disfigured by the loss of an eye or a hand. +And so, again, if a professing Christian made the Almighty a being of +simple benevolence, and He was, on the contrary, what the Church of +England teaches, a God who punishes for the sake of justice, such a +person was making an idol or unreality the object of his religion, and +(apart from more serious thoughts about him) so far he could not respect +him. Thus the principle of dogmatism gradually became an essential +element in Charles's religious views. + +Gradually, and imperceptibly to himself; for the thoughts which we have +been tracing only came on him at spare times, and were taken up at +intervals from the point at which they were laid down. His lectures and +other duties of the place, his friends and recreations, were the staple +of the day; but there was this undercurrent ever in motion, and sounding +in his mental ear as soon as other sounds were hushed. As he dressed in +the morning, as he sat under the beeches of his college-garden, when he +strolled into the meadow, when he went into the town to pay a bill or +make a call, when he threw himself on his sofa after shutting his oak at +night, thoughts cognate with those which have been described were busy +within him. + +Discussions, however, and inquiries, as far as Oxford could afford +matter for them, were for a while drawing to an end; for Trinity Sunday +was now past, and the Commemoration was close at hand. On the Sunday +before it, the University sermon happened to be preached by a +distinguished person, whom that solemnity brought up to Oxford; no less +a man than the Very Rev. Dr. Brownside, the new Dean of Nottingham, some +time Huntingdonian Professor of Divinity, and one of the acutest, if not +soundest academical thinkers of the day. He was a little, prim, +smirking, be-spectacled man, bald in front, with curly black hair +behind, somewhat pompous in his manner, with a clear musical utterance, +which enabled one to listen to him without effort. As a divine, he +seemed never to have had any difficulty on any subject; he was so clear +or so shallow, that he saw to the bottom of all his thoughts: or, since +Dr. Johnson tells us that "all shallows are clear," we may perhaps +distinguish him by both epithets. Revelation to him, instead of being +the abyss of God's counsels, with its dim outlines and broad shadows, +was a flat, sunny plain, laid out with straight macadamised roads. Not, +of course, that he denied the Divine incomprehensibility itself, with +certain heretics of old; but he maintained that in Revelation all that +was mysterious had been left out, and nothing given us but what was +practical, and directly concerned us. It was, moreover, to him a marvel, +that every one did not agree with him in taking this simple, natural +view, which he thought almost self-evident; and he attributed the +phenomenon, which was by no means uncommon, to some want of clearness of +head, or twist of mind, as the case might be. He was a popular preacher; +that is, though he had few followers, he had numerous hearers; and on +this occasion the church was overflowing with the young men of the +place. + +He began his sermon by observing, that it was not a little remarkable +that there were so few good reasoners in the world, considering that the +discursive faculty was one of the characteristics of man's nature, as +contrasted with brute animals. It had indeed been said that brutes +reasoned; but this was an analogical sense of the word "reason," and an +instance of that very ambiguity of language, or confusion of thought, on +which he was animadverting. In like manner, we say that the _reason_ why +the wind blows is, that there is a change of temperature in the +atmosphere; and the _reason_ why the bells ring is, because the ringers +pull them; but who would say that the wind _reasons_ or that bells +_reason_? There was, he believed, no well-ascertained fact (an emphasis +on the word _fact_) of brutes reasoning. It had been said, indeed, that +that sagacious animal, the dog, if, in tracking his master, he met three +ways, after smelling the two, boldly pursued the third without any such +previous investigation; which, if true, would be an instance of a +disjunctive hypothetical syllogism. Also Dugald Stewart spoke of the +case of a monkey cracking nuts behind a door, which, not being a strict +imitation of anything which he could have actually seen, implied an +operation of abstraction, by which the clever brute had first ascended +to the general notion of nut-crackers, which perhaps he had seen in a +particular instance, in silver or in steel, at his master's table, and +then descending, had embodied it, thus obtained, in the shape of an +expedient of his own devising. This was what had been said: however, he +might assume on the present occasion, that the faculty of reasoning was +characteristic of the human species; and, this being the case, it +certainly was remarkable that so few persons reasoned well. + +After this introduction, he proceeded to attribute to this defect the +number of religious differences in the world. He said that the most +celebrated questions in religion were but verbal ones; that the +disputants did not know their own meaning, or that of their opponents; +and that a spice of good logic would have put an end to dissensions, +which had troubled the world for centuries,--would have prevented many a +bloody war, many a fierce anathema, many a savage execution, and many a +ponderous folio. He went on to imply that in fact there was no truth or +falsehood in the received dogmas in theology; that they were modes, +neither good nor bad in themselves, but personal, national, or periodic, +in which the intellect reasoned upon the great truths of religion; that +the fault lay, not in holding them, but in insisting on them, which was +like insisting on a Hindoo dressing like a Fin, or a regiment of +dragoons using the boomarang. + +He proceeded to observe, that from what he had said, it was plain in +what point of view the Anglican formularies were to be regarded; viz. +they were _our_ mode of expressing everlasting truths, which might be as +well expressed in other ways, as any correct thinker would be able to +see. Nothing, then, was to be altered in them; they were to be retained +in their integrity; but it was ever to be borne in mind that they were +Anglican theology, not theology in the abstract; and that, though the +Athanasian Creed was good for us, it did not follow that it was good for +our neighbours; rather, that what seemed the very reverse might suit +others better, might be _their_ mode of expressing the same truths. + +He concluded with one word in favour of Nestorius, two for Abelard, +three for Luther, "that great mind," as he worded it, "who saw that +churches, creeds, rites, persons, were nought in religion, and that the +inward spirit, _faith_," as he himself expressed it, "was all in all;" +and with a hint that nothing would go well in the University till this +great principle was so far admitted, as to lead its members--not, +indeed, to give up their own distinctive formularies, no--but to +consider the direct contradictories of them equally pleasing to the +divine Author of Christianity. + +Charles did not understand the full drift of the sermon; but he +understood enough to make him feel that it was different from any sermon +he had heard in his life. He more than doubted, whether, if his good +father had heard it, he would not have made it an exception to his +favourite dictum. He came away marvelling with himself what the preacher +could mean, and whether he had misunderstood him. Did he mean that +Unitarians were only bad reasoners, and might be as good Christians as +orthodox believers? He could mean nothing else. But what if, after all, +he was right? He indulged the thought awhile. "Then every one is what +Sheffield calls a sham, more or less; and there was no reason for being +annoyed at any one. Then I was right originally in wishing to take every +one for what he was. Let me think; every one a sham ... shams are +respectable, or rather no one is respectable. We can't do without some +outward form of belief; one is not truer than another; that is, all are +equally true.... _All_ are true.... That is the better way of taking it; +none are shams, all are true.... All are _true_! impossible! one as true +as another! why then it is as true that our Lord is a mere man, as that +He is God. He could not possibly mean this; what _did_ he mean?" + +So Charles went on, painfully perplexed, yet out of this perplexity two +convictions came upon him, the first of them painful too; that he could +not take for gospel everything that was said, even by authorities of the +place and divines of name; and next, that his former amiable feeling of +taking every one for what he was, was a dangerous one, leading with +little difficulty to a sufferance of every sort of belief, and +legitimately terminating in the sentiment expressed in Pope's Universal +Prayer, which his father had always held up to him as a pattern specimen +of shallow philosophism:-- + + "Father of all, in every age, + In every clime adored, + By saint, by savage, and by sage, + Jehovah, Jove, or Lord." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Charles went up this term for his first examination, and this caused him +to remain in Oxford some days after the undergraduate part of his +college had left for the Long Vacation. Thus he came across Mr. Vincent, +one of the junior tutors, who was kind enough to ask him to dine in +Common-room on Sunday, and on several mornings made him take some turns +with him up and down the Fellows' walk in the college garden. + +A few years make a great difference in the standing of men at Oxford, +and this made Mr. Vincent what is called a don in the eyes of persons +who were very little younger than himself. Besides, Vincent looked much +older than he really was; he was of a full habit, with a florid +complexion and large blue eyes, and showed a deal of linen at his bosom, +and full wristbands at his cuffs. Though a clever man, and a hard reader +and worker, and a capital tutor, he was a good feeder as well; he ate +and drank, he walked and rode, with as much heart as he lectured in +Aristotle, or crammed in Greek plays. What is stranger still, with all +this he was something of a valetudinarian. He had come off from school +on a foundation fellowship, and had the reputation both at school and +in the University of being a first-rate scholar. He was a strict +disciplinarian in his way, had the undergraduates under his thumb, and +having some _bonhomie_ in his composition, was regarded by them with +mingled feelings of fear and good will. They laughed at him, but +carefully obeyed him. Besides this he preached a good sermon, read +prayers with unction, and in his conversation sometimes had even a touch +of evangelical spirituality. The young men even declared they could tell +how much port he had taken in Common-room by the devoutness of his +responses in evening-chapel; and it was on record that once, during the +Confession, he had, in the heat of his contrition, shoved over the huge +velvet cushion in which his elbows were imbedded upon the heads of the +gentlemen commoners who sat under him. + +He had just so much originality of mind as gave him an excuse for being +"his own party" in religion, or what he himself called being "no party +man;" and just so little that he was ever mistaking shams for truths, +and converting pompous nothings into oracles. He was oracular in his +manner, denounced parties and party-spirit, and thought to avoid the one +and the other by eschewing all persons, and holding all opinions. He had +a great idea of the _via media_ being the truth; and to obtain it, +thought it enough to flee from extremes, without having any very +definite mean to flee to. He had not clearness of intellect enough to +pursue a truth to its limits, nor boldness enough to hold it in its +simplicity; but he was always saying things and unsaying them, balancing +his thoughts in impossible attitudes, and guarding his words by +unintelligible limitations. As to the men and opinions of the day and +place, he would in the main have agreed with them, had he let himself +alone; but he was determined to have an intellect of his own, and this +put him to great shifts when he would distinguish himself from them. Had +he been older than they, he would have talked of "young heads," "hot +heads," and the like; but since they were grave and cool men, and outran +him by fourteen or fifteen years, he found nothing better than to shake +his head, mutter against party-spirit, refuse to read their books, lest +he should be obliged to agree with them, and make a boast of avoiding +their society. At the present moment he was on the point of starting for +a continental tour to recruit himself after the labours of an Oxford +year; meanwhile he was keeping hall and chapel open for such men as were +waiting either for Responsions, or for their battel money; and he took +notice of Reding as a clever, modest youth of whom something might be +made. Under this view of him, he had, among other civilities, asked him +to breakfast a day or two before he went down. + +A tutor's breakfast is always a difficult affair both for host and +guests; and Vincent piqued himself on the tact with which he managed it. +The material part was easy enough; there were rolls, toast, muffins, +eggs, cold lamb, strawberries, on the table; and in due season the +college-servant brought in mutton-cutlets and broiled ham; and every one +ate to his heart's, or rather his appetite's, content. It was a more +arduous undertaking to provide the running accompaniment of thought, or +at least of words, without which the breakfast would have been little +better than a pig-trough. The conversation or rather mono-polylogue, as +some great performer calls it, ran in somewhat of the following strain: + +"Mr. Bruton," said Vincent, "what news from Staffordshire? Are the +potteries pretty quiet now? Our potteries grow in importance. You need +not look at the cup and saucer before you, Mr. Catley; those came from +Derbyshire. But you find English crockery everywhere on the Continent. I +myself found half a willow-pattern saucer in the crater of Vesuvius. Mr. +Sikes, I think _you_ have _been_ in Italy?" + +"No, sir," said Sikes; "I was near going; my family set off a fortnight +ago, but I was kept here by these confounded smalls." + +"Your _Responsiones_," answered the tutor in a tone of rebuke; "an +unfortunate delay for you, for it is to be an unusually fine season, if +the meteorologists of the sister University are right in their +predictions. Who is in the Responsion schools, Mr. Sikes?" + +"Butson of Leicester is the strict one, sir; he plucks one man in three. +He plucked last week Patch of St. George's, and Patch has taken his oath +he'll shoot him; and Butson has walked about ever since with a bulldog." + +"These are reports, Mr. Sikes, which often flit about, but must not be +trusted. Mr. Patch could not have given a better proof that his +rejection was deserved." + +A pause--during which poor Vincent hastily gobbled up two or three +mouthfuls of bread and butter, the knives and forks meanwhile clinking +upon his guests' plates. + +"Sir, is it true," began one of his guests at length, "that the old +Principal is going to be married?" + +"These are matters, Mr. Atkins," answered Vincent, "which we should +always inquire about at the fountain-head; _antiquam exquirite matrem_, +or rather _patrem_; ha, ha! Take some more tea, Mr. Reding; it won't +hurt your nerves. I am rather choice in my tea; this comes overland +through Russia; the sea-air destroys the flavour of our common tea. +Talking of air, Mr. Tenby, I think you are a chemist. Have you paid +attention to the recent experiments on the composition and resolution of +air? Not? I am surprised at it; they are well worth your most serious +consideration. It is now pretty well ascertained that inhaling gases is +the cure for all kinds of diseases. People are beginning to talk of the +gas-cure, as they did of the water-cure. The great foreign chemist, +Professor Scaramouch, has the credit of the discovery. The effects are +astounding, quite astounding; and there are several remarkable +coincidences. You know medicines are always unpleasant, and so these +gases are always fetid. The Professor cures by stenches, and has brought +his science to such perfection that he actually can classify them. There +are six elementary stenches, and these spread into a variety of +subdivisions? What do you say, Mr. Reding? Distinctive? Yes, there is +something very distinctive in smells. But what is most gratifying of +all, and is the great coincidence I spoke of, his ultimate resolution of +fetid gases assigns to them the very same precise number as is given to +existing complaints in the latest treatises on pathology. Each complaint +has its gas. And, what is still more singular, an exhausted receiver is +a specific for certain desperate disorders. For instance, it has +effected several cures of hydrophobia. Mr. Seaton," he continued to a +freshman, who, his breakfast finished, was sitting uncomfortably on his +chair, looking down and playing with his knife--"Mr. Seaton, you are +looking at that picture"--it was almost behind Seaton's back--"I don't +wonder at it; it was given me by my good old mother, who died many years +ago. It represents some beautiful Italian scenery." + +Vincent stood up, and his party after him, and all crowded round the +picture. + +"I prefer the green of England," said Reding. + +"England has not that brilliant variety of colour," said Tenby. + +"But there is something so soothing in green." + +"You know, of course, Mr. Reding," said the tutor, "that there is plenty +of green in Italy, and in winter even more than in England; only there +are other colours too." + +"But I can't help fancying," said Charles, "that that mixture of colours +takes off from it the repose of English scenery." + +"The repose, for instance," said Tenby, "of Binsey Common, or Port +Meadow in winter." + +"Say in summer," said Reding; "if you choose place, I will choose time. +I think the University goes down just when Oxford begins to be most +beautiful. The walks and meadows are so fragrant and bright now, the hay +half carried, and the short new grass appearing." + +"Reding ought to live here all through the Long," said Tenby: "does any +one live through the Vacation, sir, in Oxford?" + +"Do you mean they die before the end of it, Mr. Tenby?" asked Vincent. +"It can't be denied," he continued, "that many, like Mr. Reding, think +it a most pleasant time. _I_ am fond of Oxford; but it is not my +_habitat_ out of term-time." + +"Well, I think I should like to make it so," said Charles, "but, I +suppose, undergraduates are not allowed." + +Mr. Vincent answered with more than necessary gravity, "No;" it rested +with the Principal; but he conceived that he would not consent to it. +Vincent added that certainly there _were_ parties who remained in Oxford +through the Long Vacation. It was said mysteriously. + +Charles answered that, if it was against college rules, there was no +help for it; else, were he reading for his degree, he should like +nothing better than to pass the Long Vacation in Oxford, if he might +judge by the pleasantness of the last ten days. + +"That is a compliment, Mr. Reding, to your company," said Vincent. + +At this moment the door opened, and in came the manciple with the dinner +paper, which Mr. Vincent had formally to run his eye over. "Watkins," he +said, giving it back to him, "I almost think to-day is one of the Fasts +of the Church. Go and look, Watkins, and bring me word." + +The astonished manciple, who had never been sent on such a commission in +his whole career before, hastened out of the room, to task his wits how +best to fulfil it. The question seemed to strike the company as +forcibly, for there was a sudden silence, which was succeeded by a +shuffling of feet and a leave-taking; as if, though they had secured +their ham and mutton at breakfast, they did not like to risk their +dinner. Watkins returned sooner than could have been expected. He said +that Mr. Vincent was right; to-day he had found was "the feast of the +Apostles." + +"The Vigil of St. Peter, you mean, Watkins," said Mr. Vincent; "I +thought so. Then let us have a plain beefsteak and a saddle of mutton; +no Portugal onions, Watkins, or currant-jelly; and some simple pudding, +Charlotte pudding, Watkins--that will do." + +Watkins vanished. By this time, Charles found himself alone with the +college authority; who began to speak to him in a more confidential +tone. + +"Mr. Reding," said he, "I did not like to question you before the +others, but I conceive you had no particular _meaning_ in your praise of +Oxford in the Long Vacation? In the mouths of some it would have been +suspicious." + +Charles was all surprise. + +"To tell the truth, Mr. Reding, as things stand," he proceeded, "it is +often a mark of _party_, this residence in the Vacation; though, of +course, there is nothing in the _thing_ itself but what is perfectly +natural and right." + +Charles was all attention. + +"My good sir," the tutor proceeded, "avoid parties; be sure to avoid +party. You are young in your career among us. I always feel anxious +about young men of talent; there is the greatest danger of the talent +of the University being absorbed in party." + +Reding expressed a hope that nothing he had done had given cause to his +tutor's remark. + +"No," replied Mr. Vincent, "no;" yet with some slight hesitation; "no, I +don't know that it has. But I have thought some of your remarks and +questions at lecture were like a person pushing things _too far_, and +wishing to form a _system_." + +Charles was so much taken aback by the charge, that the unexplained +mystery of the Long Vacation went out of his head. He said he was "very +sorry," and "obliged;" and tried to recollect what he could have said to +give ground to Mr. Vincent's remark. Not being able at the moment to +recollect, he went on. "I assure you, sir, I know so little of parties +in the place, that I hardly know their leaders. I have heard persons +mentioned, but, if I tried, I think I should, in some cases, mismatch +names and opinions." + +"I believe it," said Vincent; "but you are young; I am cautioning you +against _tendencies_. You may suddenly find yourself absorbed before you +know where you are." + +Charles thought this a good opportunity of asking some questions in +detail, about points which puzzled him. He asked whether Dr. Brownside +was considered a safe divine to follow. + +"I hold, d'ye see," answered Vincent, "that all errors are counterfeits +of truth. Clever men say true things, Mr. Reding, true in their +substance, but," sinking his voice to a whisper, "they go _too far_. It +might even be shown that all sects are in one sense but parts of the +Catholic Church. I don't say true parts, that is a further question; but +they _embody_ great _principles_. The Quakers represent the principle of +simplicity and evangelical poverty; they even have a dress of their own, +like monks. The Independents represent the rights of the laity; the +Wesleyans cherish the devotional principle; the Irvingites, the +symbolical and mystical; the High Church party, the principle of +obedience; the Liberals are the guardians of reason. No party, then, I +conceive, is entirely right or entirely wrong. As to Dr. Brownside, +there certainly have been various opinions entertained about his +divinity; still, he is an able man, and I think you will gain _good_, +gain _good_ from his teaching. But mind, I don't _recommend_ him; yet I +respect him, and I consider that he says many things very well worth +your attention. I would advise you, then, to accept the _good_ which his +sermons offer, without committing yourself to the _bad_. That, depend +upon it, Mr. Reding, is the golden though the obvious rule in these +matters." + +Charles said, in answer, that Mr. Vincent was overrating his powers; +that he had to learn before he could judge; and that he wished very much +to know whether Vincent could recommend him any book, in which he might +see at once _what_ the true Church-of-England doctrine was on a number +of points which perplexed him. + +Mr. Vincent replied, he must be on his guard against dissipating his +mind with such reading, at a time when his University duties had a +definite claim upon him. He ought to avoid all controversies of the +day, all authors of the day. He would advise him to read _no_ living +authors. "Read dead authors alone," he continued; "dead authors are +safe. Our great divines," and he stood upright, "were models; 'there +were giants on the earth in those days,' as King George the Third had +once said of them to Dr. Johnson. They had that depth, and power, and +gravity, and fulness, and erudition; and they were so racy, always racy, +and what might be called English. They had that richness, too, such a +mine of thought, such a world of opinion, such activity of mind, such +inexhaustible resource, such diversity, too. Then they were so eloquent; +the majestic Hooker, the imaginative Taylor, the brilliant Hall, the +learning of Barrow, the strong sense of South, the keen logic of +Chillingworth, good, honest old Burnet," etc., etc. + +There did not seem much reason why he should stop at one moment more +than another; at length, however, he did stop. It was prose, but it was +pleasant prose to Charles; he knew just enough about these writers to +feel interested in hearing them talked about, and to him Vincent seemed +to be saying a good deal, when in fact he was saying very little. When +he stopped, Charles said he believed that there were persons in the +University who were promoting the study of these authors. + +Mr. Vincent looked grave. "It is true," he said; "but, my young friend, +I have already hinted to you that indifferent things are perverted to +the purposes of _party_. At this moment the names of some of our +greatest divines are little better than a watchword by which the +opinions of living individuals are signified." + +"Which opinions, I suppose," Charles answered, "are not to be found in +those authors." + +"I'll not say that," said Mr. Vincent. "I have the greatest respect for +the individuals in question, and I am not denying that they have done +good to our Church by drawing attention in this lax day to the old +Church-of-England divinity. But it is one thing to agree with these +gentlemen; another," laying his hand on Charles's shoulder, "another to +belong to their party. Do not make man your master; get good from all; +think well of all persons, and you will be a wise man." + +Reding inquired, with some timidity, if this was not something like what +Dr. Brownside had said in the University pulpit; but perhaps the latter +advocated a toleration of opinions in a different sense? Mr. Vincent +answered rather shortly, that he had not heard Dr. Brownside's sermon; +but, for himself, he had been speaking only of persons in our own +communion. + +"Our Church," he said, "admitted of great liberty of thought within her +pale. Even our greatest divines differed from each other in many +respects; nay, Bishop Taylor differed from himself. It was a great +principle in the English Church. Her true children agree to differ. In +truth," he continued, "there is that robust, masculine, noble +independence in the English mind, which refuses to be tied down to +artificial shapes, but is like, I will say, some great and beautiful +production of nature,--a tree, which is rich in foliage and fantastic +in limb, no sickly denizen of the hothouse, or helpless dependent of +the garden wall, but in careless magnificence sheds its fruits upon the +free earth, for the bird of the air and the beast of the field, and all +sorts of cattle, to eat thereof and rejoice." + +When Charles came away, he tried to think what he had gained by his +conversation with Mr. Vincent; not exactly what he had wanted, some +practical rules to guide his mind and keep him steady; but still some +useful hints. He had already been averse to parties, and offended at +what he saw of individuals attached to them. Vincent had confirmed him +in his resolution to keep aloof from them, and to attend to his duties +in the place. He felt pleased to have had this talk with him; but what +could he mean by suspecting a tendency in himself to push things too +far, and thereby to implicate himself in party? He was obliged to resign +himself to ignorance on the subject, and to be content with keeping a +watch over himself in future. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +No opportunity has occurred of informing the reader that, during the +last week or two, Charles had accidentally been a good deal thrown +across Willis, the _umbra_ of White at Bateman's breakfast-party. He had +liked his looks on that occasion, when he was dumb; he did not like him +so much when he heard him talk; still he could not help being interested +in him, and not the least for this reason, that Willis seemed to have +taken a great fancy to himself. He certainly did court Charles, and +seemed anxious to stand well with him. Charles, however, did not like +his mode of talking better than he did White's; and when he first saw +his rooms, there was much in them which shocked both his good sense and +his religious principles. A large ivory crucifix, in a glass case, was a +conspicuous ornament between the windows; an engraving, representing the +Blessed Trinity, as is usual in Catholic countries, hung over the +fireplace, and a picture of the Madonna and St. Dominic was opposite to +it. On the mantelpiece were a rosary, a thuribulum, and other tokens of +Catholicism, of which Charles did not know the uses; a missal, ritual, +and some Catholic tracts, lay on the table; and, as he happened to come +on Willis unexpectedly, he found him sitting in a vestment more like a +cassock than a reading-gown, and engaged upon some portion of the +Breviary. Virgil and Sophocles, Herodotus and Cicero seemed, as impure +pagans, to have hid themselves in corners, or flitted away, before the +awful presence of the Ancient Church. Charles had taken upon himself to +protest against some of these singularities, but without success. + +On the evening before his departure for the country he had occasion to +go towards Folly Bridge to pay a bill, when he was startled, as he +passed what he had ever taken for a dissenting chapel, to see Willis +come out of it. He hardly could believe he saw correctly; he knew, +indeed, that Willis had been detained in Oxford, as he had been himself; +but what had compelled him to a visit so extraordinary as that which he +had just made, Charles had no means of determining. + +"Willis!" he cried, as he stopped. + +Willis coloured, and tried to look easy. + +"Do come a few paces with me," said Charles. "What in the world has +taken you there? Is it not a dissenting meeting?" + +"Dissenting meeting!" cried Willis, surprised and offended in his turn: +"what on earth could make you think I would go to a dissenting meeting?" + +"Well, I beg your pardon," said Charles; "I recollect now: it's the +exhibition room. However, _once_ it _was_ a chapel: that's my mistake. +Isn't it what is called 'the Old Methodist Chapel?' I never was there; +they showed there the _Dio-astro-doxon_, so I think they called it." +Charles talked on, to cover his own mistake, for he was ashamed of the +charge he had made. + +Willis did not know whether he was in jest or earnest. "Reding," he +said, "don't go on; you offend me." + +"Well, what is it?" said Charles. + +"You know well enough," answered Willis, "though you wish to annoy me." + +"I don't indeed." + +"It's the Catholic church," said Willis. + +Reding was silent a moment; then he said, "Well, I don't think you have +mended the matter; it _is_ a dissenting meeting, call it what you will, +though not the kind of one I meant." + +"What can you mean?" asked Willis. + +"Rather, what mean _you_ by going to such places?" retorted Charles; +"why, it is against your oath." + +"My oath! what oath?" + +"There's not an oath now; but there was an oath till lately," said +Reding; "and we still make a very solemn engagement. Don't you recollect +your matriculation at the Vice-Chancellor's, and what oaths and +declarations you made?" + +"I don't know what I made: my tutor told me nothing about it. I signed a +book or two." + +"You did more," said Reding. "I was told most carefully. You solemnly +engaged to keep the statutes; and one statute is, not to go into any +dissenting chapel or meeting whatever." + +"Catholics are not Dissenters," said Willis. + +"Oh, don't speak so," said Charles; "you know it's meant to include +them. The statute wishes us to keep from all places of worship whatever +but our own." + +"But it is an illegal declaration or vow," said Willis, "and so not +binding." + +"Where did you find that get-off?" said Charles; "the priest put that +into your head." + +"I don't know the priest; I never spoke a word to him," answered Willis. + +"Well, any how, it's not your own answer," said Reding; "and does not +help you. I am no casuist; but if it is an illegal engagement you should +not continue to enjoy the benefit of it." + +"What benefit?" + +"Your cap and gown; a university education; the chance of a scholarship +or fellowship. Give up these, and then plead, if you will, and lawfully, +that you are quit of your engagement; but don't sail under false +colours: don't take the benefit and break the stipulation." + +"You take it too seriously; there are half a hundred statutes _you_ +don't keep, any more than I. You are most inconsistent." + +"Well, if we don't keep them," said Charles, "I suppose it is in points +where the authorities don't enforce them; for instance, they don't mean +us to dress in brown, though the statutes order it." + +"But they _do_ mean to keep you from walking down High Street in +beaver," answered Willis; "for the Proctors march up and down, and send +you back, if they catch you." + +"But _this_ is a different matter," said Reding, changing his ground; +"this is a matter of religion. It can't be right to go to strange places +of worship or meetings." + +"Why," said Willis, "if we are one Church with the Roman Catholics, I +can't make out for the life of me how it's wrong for us to go to them or +them to us." + +"I'm no divine, I don't understand what is meant by one Church," said +Charles; "but I know well that there's not a bishop, not a clergyman, +not a sober churchman in the land but would give it against you. It's a +sheer absurdity." + +"Don't talk in that way," answered Willis, "please don't. I feel all my +heart drawn to the Catholic worship; our own service is so cold." + +"That's just what every stiff Dissenter says," answered Charles; "every +poor cottager, too, who knows no better, and goes after the +Methodists--after her dear Mr. Spoutaway or the preaching cobbler. _She_ +says (I have heard them), 'Oh, sir, I suppose we ought to go where we +get most good. Mr. So-and-so goes to my heart--he goes through me.'" + +Willis laughed; "Well, not a bad reason, as times go, _I_ think," said +he: "poor souls, what better means of judging have they? how can you +hope they will like 'the Scripture moveth us'? Really you are making too +much of it. This is only the second time I have been there, and, I tell +you in earnest, I find my mind filled with awe and devotion there; as I +think you would too. I really am better for it; I cannot pray in church; +there's a bad smell there, and the pews hide everything; I can't see +through a deal board. But here, when I went in, I found all still, and +calm, the space open, and, in the twilight, the Tabernacle just visible, +pointed out by the lamp." + +Charles looked very uncomfortable. "Really, Willis," he said, "I don't +know what to say to you. Heaven forbid that I should speak against the +Roman Catholics; I know nothing about them. But _this_ I know, that you +are not a Roman Catholic, and have no business there. If they have such +sacred things among them as those you allude to, still these are not +yours; you are an intruder. I know nothing about it; I don't like to +give a judgment, I am sure. But it's a tampering with sacred things; +running here and there, touching and tasting, taking up, putting down. I +don't like it," he added, with vehemence; "it's taking liberties with +God." + +"Oh, my dear Reding, please don't speak so very severely," said poor +Willis; "now what have I done more than you would do yourself, were you +in France or Italy? Do you mean to say you wouldn't enter the churches +abroad?" + +"I will only decide about what is before me," answered Reding; "when I +go abroad, then will be the time to think about your question. It is +quite enough to know what we ought to do at the moment, and I am clear +you have been doing wrong. How did you find your way there?" + +"White took me." + +"Then there is one man in the world more thoughtless than you: do many +of the gownsmen go there?" + +"Not that I know of; one or two have gone from curiosity; there is no +practice of going, at least this is what I am told." + +"Well," said Charles, "you must promise me you will not go again. Come, +we won't part till you do." + +"That is too much," said Willis, gently; then, disengaging his arm from +Reding's, he suddenly darted away from him, saying, "Good-bye, good-bye; +to our next merry meeting--_au revoir_." + +There was no help for it. Charles walked slowly home, saying to himself: +"What if, after all, the Roman Catholic Church is the true Church? I +wish I knew what to believe; no one will tell me what to believe; I am +so left to myself." Then he thought: "I suppose I know quite enough for +practice--more than I _do_ practise; and I ought surely to be contented +and thankful." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Charles was an affectionate son, and the Long Vacation passed very +happily at home. He was up early, and read steadily till luncheon, and +then he was at the service of his father, mother, and sisters for the +rest of the day. He loved the calm, quiet country; he loved the +monotonous flow of time, when each day is like the other; and, after the +excitement of Oxford, the secluded parsonage was like a haven beyond the +tossing of the waves. The whirl of opinions and perplexities which had +encircled him at Oxford now were like the distant sound of the +ocean--they reminded him of his present security. The undulating +meadows, the green lanes, the open heath, the common with its +wide-spreading dusky elms, the high timber which fringed the level path +from village to village, ever and anon broken and thrown into groups, or +losing itself in copses--even the gate, and the stile, and the +turnpike-road had the charm, not of novelty, but of long familiar use; +they had the poetry of many recollections. Nor was the dilapidated, +deformed church, with its outside staircases, its unsightly galleries, +its wide intruded windows, its uncouth pews, its low nunting table, its +forlorn vestry, and its damp earthy smell, without its pleasant +associations to the inner man; for there it was that for many a year, +Sunday after Sunday, he had heard his dear father read and preach; there +were the old monuments, with Latin inscriptions and strange devices, the +black boards with white letters, the Resurgams and grinning skulls, the +fire-buckets, the faded militia-colours, and, almost as much a fixture, +the old clerk, with a Welsh wig over his ears, shouting the responses +out of place--which had arrested his imagination, and awed him when a +child. And then there was his home itself; its well-known rooms, its +pleasant routine, its order, and its comfort--an old and true friend, +the dearer to him because he had made new ones. "Where I shall be in +time to come I know not," he said to himself; "I am but a boy; many +things which I have not a dream of, which my imagination cannot compass, +may come on me before I die--if I live; but here at least, and now, I am +happy, and I will enjoy my happiness. Some say that school is the +pleasantest time of one's life; this does not exclude college. I suppose +care is what makes life so wearing. At present I have no care, no +responsibility; I suppose I shall feel a little when I go up for my +degree. Care is a terrible thing; I have had a little of it at times at +school. What a strange thing to fancy, I shall be one day twenty-five or +thirty! How the weeks are flying by! the Vacation will soon be over. Oh, +I am so happy, it quite makes me afraid. Yet I shall have strength for +my day." + +Sometimes, however, his thoughts took a sadder turn, and he anticipated +the future more vividly than he enjoyed the present. Mr. Malcolm had +come to see them, after an absence from the parsonage for several years: +his visit was a great pleasure to Mr. Reding, and not much less to +himself, to whom a green home and a family circle were agreeable sights, +after his bachelor-life at college. He had been a great favourite with +Charles and his sisters as children, though now his popularity with them +for the most part rested on the memory of the past. When he told them +amusing stories, or allowed them to climb his knee and take off his +spectacles, he did all that was necessary to gain their childish hearts; +more is necessary to conciliate the affection of young men and women; +and thus it is not surprising that he lived in their minds principally +by prescription. He neither knew this, nor would have thought much about +it if he had; for, like many persons of advancing years, he made himself +very much his own centre, did not care to enter into the minds of +others, did not consult for them, or find his happiness in them. He was +kind and friendly to the young people, as he would be kind to a +canary-bird or a lap-dog; it was a sort of external love; and, though +they got on capitally with him, they did not miss him when gone, nor +would have been much troubled to know that he was never to come again. +Charles drove him about the country, stamped his letters, secured him +his newspapers from the neighbouring town, and listened to his stories +about Oxford and Oxford men. He really liked him, and wished to please +him; but, as to consulting him in any serious matter, or going to him +for comfort in affliction, he would as soon have thought of betaking him +to Dan the pedlar, or old Isaac who played the Sunday bassoon. + +"How have your peaches been this year, Malcolm?" said Mr. Reding one day +after dinner to his guest. + +"You ought to know that we have no peaches in Oxford," answered Mr. +Malcolm. + +"My memory plays me false, then: I had a vision of, at least, October +peaches on one occasion, and fine ones too." + +"Ah, you mean at old Tom Spindle's, the jockey's," answered Mr. Malcolm; +"it's true, he had a bit of a brick wall, and was proud of it. But +peaches come when there is no one in Oxford to eat them; so either the +tree, or at least the fruit, is a great rarity there. Oxford wasn't so +empty once; you have old mulberry-trees there in record of better days." + +"At that time, too," said Charles, "I suppose, the more expensive fruits +were not cultivated. Mulberries are the witness, not only of a full +college, but of simple tastes." + +"Charles is secretly cutting at our hothouse here," said Mr. Reding; "as +if our first father did not prefer fruits and flowers to beef and +mutton." + +"No, indeed," said Charles, "I think peaches capital things; and as to +flowers, I am even too fond of scents." + +"Charles has some theory, then, about scents, I'll be bound," said his +father; "I never knew a boy who so placed his likings and dislikings on +fancies. He began to eat olives directly he read the OEdipus of +Sophocles; and, I verily believe, will soon give up oranges from his +dislike to King William." + +"Every one does so," said Charles: "who would not be in the fashion? +There's Aunt Kitty, she calls a bonnet, 'a sweet' one year, which makes +her 'a perfect fright' the next." + +"You're right, papa, in this instance," said his mother; "I know he has +some good reason, though I never can recollect it, why he smells a rose, +or distils lavender. What is it, my dear Mary?" + +"'Relics ye are of Eden's bowers,'" said she. + +"Why, sir, that was precisely your own reason just now," said Charles to +his father. + +"There's more than that," said Mrs. Reding, "if I knew what it was." + +"He thinks the scent more intellectual than the other senses," said +Mary, smiling. + +"Such a boy for paradoxes!" said his mother. + +"Well, so it is in a certain way," said Charles, "but I can't explain. +Sounds and scents are more ethereal, less material; they have no +shape--like the angels." + +Mr. Malcolm laughed. "Well, I grant it, Charles," he said; "they are +length without breadth!" + +"Did you ever hear the like?" said Mrs. Reding, laughing too; "don't +encourage him, Mr. Malcolm; you are worse than he. Angels length without +breadth!" + +"They pass from place to place, they come, they go," continued Mr. +Malcolm. + +"They conjure up the past so vividly," said Charles. + +"But sounds surely more than scents," said Mr. Malcolm. + +"Pardon me; the reverse as _I_ think," answered Charles. + +"That _is_ a paradox, Charles," said Mr. Malcolm; "the smell of +roast-beef never went further than to remind a man of dinner; but sounds +are pathetic and inspiring." + +"Well, sir, but think of this," said Charles, "scents are complete in +themselves, yet do not consist of parts. Think how very distinct the +smell of a rose is from a pink, a pink from a sweet-pea, a sweet-pea +from a stock, a stock from lilac, lilac from lavender, lavender from +jasmine, jasmine from honeysuckle, honeysuckle from hawthorn, hawthorn +from hyacinth, hyacinth"---- + +"Spare us," interrupted Mr. Malcolm; "you are going through the index of +Loudon!" + +"And these are only the scents of flowers; how different flowers smell +from fruits, fruits from spices, spices from roast-beef or pork-cutlets, +and so on. Now, what I was coming to is this--these scents are perfectly +distinct from each other, and _sui generis_; they never can be confused; +yet each is communicated to the apprehension in an instant. Sights take +up a great space, a tune is a succession of sounds; but scents are at +once specific and complete, yet indivisible. Who can halve a scent? they +need neither time nor space; thus they are immaterial or spiritual." + +"Charles hasn't been to Oxford for nothing," said his mother, laughing +and looking at Mary; "this is what I call chopping logic!" + +"Well done, Charles," cried Mr. Malcolm; "and now, since you have such +clear notions of the power of smells, you ought, like the man in the +story, to be satisfied with smelling at your dinner, and grow fat upon +it. It's a shame you sit down to table." + +"Well, sir," answered Charles, "some people _do_ seem to thrive on snuff +at least." + +"For shame, Charles!" said Mr. Malcolm; "you have seen me use the +common-room snuff-box to keep myself awake after dinner; but nothing +more. I keep a box in my pocket merely as a bauble--it was a present. +You should have lived when I was young. There was old Dr. Troughton of +Nun's Hall, he carried his snuff loose in his pocket; and old Mrs. +Vice-Principal Daffy used to lay a train along her arm, and fire it with +her nose. Doctors of medicine took it as a preservative against +infection, and doctors of divinity against drowsiness in church." + +"They take wine against infection now," said Mr. Reding; "it's a much +surer protective." + +"Wine?" cried Mr. Malcolm; "oh, they didn't take less wine then, as you +and I know. On certain solemn occasions they made a point of getting +drunk, the whole college, from the Vice-Principal or Sub-Warden down to +the scouts. Heads of houses were kept in order by their wives; but I +assure you the jolly god came _very_ near Mr. Vice-Chancellor himself. +There was old Dr. Sturdy of St. Michael's, a great martinet in his time. +One day the King passed through Oxford; Sturdy, a tall, upright, +iron-faced man, had to meet him in procession at Magdalen Bridge, and +walked down with his pokers before him, gold and silver, vergers, cocked +hats, and the rest. There wasn't one of them that wasn't in liquor. +Think of the good old man's horror, Majesty in the distance, and his own +people swaying to and fro under his very nose, and promising to leave +him for the gutter before the march was ended." + +"No one can get tipsy with snuff, I grant," said Mr. Reding; "but if +wine has done some men harm it has done others a deal of good." + +"Hair-powder is as bad as snuff," said Mary, preferring the former +subject; "there's old Mr. Butler of Cooling, his wig is so large and +full of powder that when he nods his head I am sure to sneeze." + +"Ah, but all these are accidents, young lady," said Mr. Malcolm, put out +by this block to the conversation, and running off somewhat testily in +another direction; "accidents after all. Old people are always the same; +so are young. Each age has its own fashion: if Mr. Butler wore no wig, +still there would be something about him odd and strange to young eyes. +Charles, don't you be an old bachelor. No one cares for old people. +Marry, my dear boy; look out betimes for a virtuous young woman, who +will make you an attentive wife." + +Charles slightly coloured, and his sister laughed as if there was some +understanding between them. + +Mr. Malcolm continued: "Don't wait till you want some one to buy flannel +for your rheumatism or gout; marry betimes." + +"You will let me take my degree first, sir?" said Charles. + +"Certainly, take your M.A.'s if you will; but don't become an old +Fellow. Don't wait till forty; people make the strangest mistakes." + +"Dear Charles will make a kind and affectionate husband, I am sure," +said his mother, "when the time comes; and come it will, though not just +yet. Yes, my dear boy," she added, nodding at him, "you will not be able +to escape your destiny, when it comes." + +"Charles, you must know," said Mr. Reding to his guest, "is romantic in +his notions just now. I believe it is that he thinks no one good enough +for him. Oh, my dear Charlie, don't let me pain you, I meant nothing +serious; but somehow he has not hit it off very well with some young +ladies here, who expected more attention than he cared to give." + +"I am sure," said Mary, "Charles is most attentive whenever there is +occasion, and always has his eyes about him to do a service; only he's a +bad hand at small-talk." + +"All will come in time, my dear," said his mother; "a good son makes a +good husband." + +"And a very loving papa," said Mr. Malcolm. + +"Oh, spare me, sir," said poor Charles; "how have I deserved this?" + +"Well," proceeded Mr. Malcolm, "and young ladies ought to marry betimes +too." + +"Come, Mary, _your_ turn is coming," cried Charles; and taking his +sister's hand, he threw up the sash, and escaped with her into the +garden. + +They crossed the lawn, and took refuge in a shrubbery. "How strange it +is!" said Mary, as they strolled along the winding walk; "we used to +like Mr. Malcolm so, as children; but now--I like him _still_, but he is +not the same." + +"We are older," said her brother; "different things take us now." + +"He used to be so kind," continued she; "when he was coming, the day was +looked out for; and mamma said, 'Take care you be good when Mr. Malcolm +comes.' And he was sure to bring a twelfth-cake, or a Noah's ark, or +something of the sort. And then he romped with us, and let us make fun +of him." + +"Indeed it isn't he that is changed," said Charles, "but we; we are in +the time of life to change; we have changed already, and shall change +still." + +"What a mercy it is," said his sister, "that we are so happy among +ourselves as a family! If we change, we shall change together, as apples +of one stock; if one fails, the other does. Thus we are always the same +to each other." + +"It is a mercy, indeed," said Charles; "we are so blest that I am +sometimes quite frightened." + +His sister looked earnestly at him. He laughed a little to turn off the +edge of his seriousness. "You would know what I mean, dear Mary, if you +had read Herodotus. A Greek tyrant feared his own excessive prosperity, +and therefore made a sacrifice to fortune. I mean, he gave up something +which he held most precious; he took a ring from his finger and cast it +into the sea, lest the Deity should afflict him, if he did not afflict +himself." + +"My dear Charles," she answered, "if we do but enjoy God's gifts +thankfully, and take care not to set our hearts on them or to abuse +them, we need not fear for their continuance." + +"Well," said Charles, "there's one text which has ever dwelt on my mind, +'Rejoice with trembling.' I can't take full, unrestrained pleasure in +anything." + +"Why not, if you look at it as God's gift?" asked Mary. + +"I don't defend it," he replied; "it's my way; it may be a selfish +prudence, for what I know; but I am sure that, did I give my heart to +any creature, I should be withdrawing it from God. How easily could I +idolize these sweet walks, which we have known for so many years!" + +They walked on in silence. "Well," said Mary, "whatever we lose, no +change can affect us as a family. While we are we, we are to each other +what nothing external can be to us, whether as given or as taken away." + +Charles made no answer. + +"What has come to you, dear Charles?" she said, stopping and looking at +him; then, gently removing his hair and smoothing his forehead, she +said, "you are so sad to-day." + +"Dearest Mary," he made answer, "nothing's the matter, indeed. I think +it is Mr. Malcolm who has put me out. It's so stupid to talk of the +prospects of a boy like me. Don't look so, I mean nothing; only it +annoys me." + +Mary smiled. + +"What I mean is," continued Charles, "that we can rely on nothing here, +and are fools if we build on the future." + +"We can rely on each other," she repeated. + +"Ah, dear Mary, don't say so; it frightens me." + +She looked round at him surprised, and almost frightened herself. + +"Dearest," he continued, "I mean nothing; only everything is so +uncertain here below." + +"We are sure of each other, Charles." + +"Yes, Mary," and he kissed her affectionately, "it is true, most true;" +then he added, "all I meant was that it seems presumptuous to say so. +David and Jonathan were parted; St. Paul and St. Barnabas." + +Tears stood in Mary's eyes. + +"Oh, what an ass I am," he said, "for thus teasing you about nothing; +no, I only mean that there is One _only_ who cannot die, who never +changes, only One. It can't be wrong to remember this. Do you recollect +Cowper's beautiful lines? I know them without having learned them--they +struck me so much the first time I read them;" and he repeated them:-- + + Thou art the source and centre of all minds, + Their only point of rest, Eternal Word. + From Thee departing, they are lost, and rove + At random, without honour, hope, or peace. + From Thee is all that soothes the life of man, + His high endeavour and his glad success, + His strength to suffer and his will to serve. + But oh, Thou Sovereign Giver of all good, + Thou art of all Thy gifts Thyself the crown; + Give what Thou canst, without Thee we are poor, + And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +October came at length, and with it Charles's thoughts were turned again +to Oxford. One or two weeks passed by; then a few days; and it was time +to be packing. His father parted with him with even greater emotion than +when he first went to school. He would himself drive him in the phaeton +to the neighbouring town, from which the omnibus ran to the railroad, +though he had the gout flying about him; and when the moment for parting +came he could not get himself to give up his hand, as if he had +something to say which he could not recollect or master. + +"Well, Christmas will soon come," he said; "we must part, it's no use +delaying it. Write to us soon, dear boy; and tell us all about yourself +and your matters. Tell us about your friends; they are nice young men +apparently: but I have great confidence in your prudence; you have more +prudence than some of them. Your tutor seems a valuable man, from what +you tell me," he went on repeating what had passed between him and +Charles many times before; "a sound, well-judging man, that Mr. Vincent. +Sheffield is too clever; he is young; you have an older head. It's no +good my going on; I have said all this before; and you may be late for +the train. Well, God bless you, my dearest Charlie, and make you a +blessing. May you be happier and better than your father! I have ever +been blest all my life long--wonderfully blest. Blessings have been +poured on me from my youth, far above my deserts; may they be doubled +upon you! Good-bye, my beloved Charles, good-bye!" + +Charles had to pass a day or two at the house of a relative who lived a +little way out of London. While he was there a letter arrived for him, +forwarded from home; it was from Willis, dated from London, and +announced that he had come to a very important decision, and should not +return to Oxford. Charles was fairly in the world again, plunged into +the whirl of opinions: how sad a contrast to his tranquil home! There +was no mistaking what the letter meant; and he set out at once with the +chance of finding the writer at the house from which he dated it. It was +a lodging at the west-end of town; and he reached it about noon. + +He found Willis in company with a person apparently two or three years +older. Willis started on seeing him. + +"Who would have thought! what brings you here?" he said; "I thought you +were in the country." Then to his companion, "This is the friend I was +speaking to you about, Morley. A happy meeting; sit down, dear Reding; I +have much to tell you." + +Charles sat down all suspense, looking at Willis with such keen anxiety +that the latter was forced to cut the matter short. "Reding, I am a +Catholic." + +Charles threw himself back in his chair, and turned pale. + +"My dear Reding, what is the matter with you? why don't you speak to +me?" + +Charles was still silent; at last, stooping forward, with his elbows on +his knees, and his head on his hands, he said, in a low voice, "O +Willis, what have you done!" + +"Done?" said Willis; "what _you_ should do, and half Oxford besides. O +Reding, I'm so happy!" + +"Alas, alas!" said Charles; "but what is the good of my staying?--all +good attend you, Willis; good-bye!" + +"No, my good Reding, you don't leave me so soon, having found me so +unexpectedly; and you have had a long walk, I dare say; sit down, +there's a good fellow; we shall have luncheon soon, and you must not go +without taking your part in it." He took Charles's hat from him, as he +spoke; and Charles, in a mixture of feelings, let him have his way. + +"O Willis, so you have separated yourself from us for ever!" he said; +"you have taken your course, we keep ours: our paths are different." + +"Not so," said Willis; "you must follow me, and we shall be one still." + +Charles was half offended; "Really I must go," he said, and he rose; +"you must not talk in that manner." + +"Pray, forgive me," answered Willis; "I won't do so again; but I could +not help it; I am not in a common state, I'm so happy!" + +A thought struck Reding. "Tell me, Willis," he said, "your exact +position; in what sense are you a Catholic? What is to prevent your +returning with me to Oxford?" + +His companion interposed: "I am taking a liberty perhaps," he said; "but +Mr. Willis has been regularly received into the Catholic Church." + +"I have not introduced you," said Willis. "Reding, let me introduce Mr. +Morley; Morley, Mr. Reding. Yes, Reding, I owe it to him that I am a +Catholic. I have been on a tour with him abroad. We met with a good +priest in France, who consented to receive my abjuration." + +"Well, I think he might profitably have examined into your state of mind +a little before he did so," said Reding; "_you_ are not the person to +become a Catholic, Willis." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Because," answered Reding, "you are more of a Dissenter than a +Catholic. I beg your pardon," he added, seeing Willis look up sharply, +"let me be frank with you, pray do. You were attached to the Church of +Rome, not as a child to a mother, but in a wayward roving way, as a +matter of fancy or liking, or (excuse me) as a greedy boy to something +nice; and you pursued your object by disobeying the authorities set over +you." + +It was as much as Willis could bear; he said, he thought he recollected +a text about "obeying God _rather_ than men." + +"I _see_ you have disobeyed men," retorted Charles; "I _trust_ you have +been obeying God." + +Willis thought him rude, and would not speak. + +Mr. Morley began: "If you knew the circumstances better," he said, "you +would doubtless judge differently. I consider Mr. Willis to be just the +very person on whom it was incumbent to join the Church, and who will +make an excellent Catholic. You must blame, not the venerable priest who +received him, but me. The good man saw his devotion, his tears, his +humility, his earnest desire; but the state of his mind he learned +through me, who speak French better than Mr. Willis. However, he had +quite enough conversation with him in French and Latin. He could not +reject a postulant for salvation; it was impossible. Had you been he, +you would have done the same." + +"Well, sir, perhaps I have been unjust to him and you," said Charles; +"however, I cannot augur well of this." + +"You are judging, sir," answered Mr. Morley, "let me say it, of things +you do not know. You do not know what the Catholic religion is, you do +not know what its grace is, or the gift of faith." + +The speaker was a layman; he spoke with earnestness the more intense, +because quiet. Charles felt himself reproved by his manner; his good +taste suggested to him that he had been too vehement in the presence of +a stranger; yet he did not feel the less confidence in his cause. He +paused before he answered; then he said briefly, that he was aware that +he did not know the Roman Catholic religion, but he knew Mr. Willis. He +could not help giving his opinion that good would not come of it. + +"_I_ have ever been a Catholic," said Mr. Morley; "so far I cannot judge +of members of the Church of England; but this I know, that the Catholic +Church is the only true Church. I may be wrong in many things; I cannot +be wrong in this. This too I know, that the Catholic faith is one, and +that no other Church has faith. The Church of England has no faith. You, +my dear sir, have not faith." + +This was a home-thrust; the controversies of Oxford passed before +Reding's mind; but he instantly recovered himself. "You cannot expect," +said he, smiling, "that I, almost a boy, should be able to argue with +yourself, or to defend my Church or to explain her faith. I am content +to hold that faith, to hold what she holds, without professing to be a +divine. This is the doctrine which I have been taught at Oxford. I am +under teaching there, I am not yet taught. Excuse me, then, if I decline +an argument with you. With Mr. Willis, it is natural that I should +argue; we are equals, and understand each other; but I am no +theologian." + +Here Willis cried out, "O my dear Reding, what I say is, 'Come and see.' +Don't stand at the door arguing; but enter the great home of the soul, +enter and adore." + +"But," said Reding, "surely God wills us to be guided by reason; I don't +mean that reason is everything, but it is at least something. Surely we +ought not to act without it, against it." + +"But is not doubt a dreadful state?" said Willis; "a most perilous +state? No state is safe but that of faith. Can it be safe to be without +faith? Now _have_ you faith in your Church? I know you well enough to +know you have not; where, then, are you?" + +"Willis, you have misunderstood me most extraordinarily," said Charles: +"ten thousand thoughts pass through the mind, and if it is safe to note +down and bring against a man his stray words, I suppose there's nothing +he mayn't be accused of holding. You must be alluding to some +half-sentence or other of mine, which I have forgotten, and which was no +real sample of my sentiments. Do you mean I have no worship? and does +not worship presuppose faith? I have much to learn, I am conscious; but +I wish to learn it from the Church under whose shadow my lot is cast, +and with whom I am content." + +"He confesses," said Willis, "that he has no faith; he confesses that he +is in doubt. My dear Reding, can you sincerely plead that you are in +invincible ignorance after what has passed between us? now, suppose for +an instant that Catholicism is true, is it not certain that you now have +an opportunity of embracing it? and if you do not, are you in a state to +die in?" + +Reding was perplexed how to answer; that is, he could not with the +necessary quickness analyze and put into words the answer which his +reason suggested to Willis's rapid interrogatories. Mr. Morley had kept +silence, lest Charles should have two upon him at once; but when Willis +paused, and Charles did not reply, he interposed. He said that all the +calls in Scripture were obeyed with promptitude by those who were +called; and that our Lord would not suffer one man even to go and bury +his father. Reding answered, that in those cases the voice of Christ was +actually heard; He was on earth, in bodily presence; now, however, the +very question was, _which_ was the voice of Christ; and whether the +Church of Rome did or did not speak with the voice of Christ;--that +surely we ought to act prudently; that Christ could not wish us to act +otherwise; that, for himself, he had no doubt that he was in the place +where Providence wished him to be; but, even if he had any doubts +whether Christ was calling him elsewhere (which he had not), but if he +had, he should certainly think that Christ called him in the way and +method of careful examination,--that prudence was the divinely appointed +means of coming at the truth. + +"Prudence!" cried Willis, "such prudence as St. Thomas's, I suppose, +when he determined to see before believing." + +Charles hesitated to answer. + +"I see it," continued Willis; and, starting up, he seized his arm; +"come, my dear fellow, come with me directly; let us go to the good +priest who lives two streets off. You shall be received this very day. +On with your hat." And, before Charles could show any resistance, he was +half out of the room. + +He could not help laughing, in spite of his vexation; he disengaged his +arm, and deliberately sat down. "Not so fast," he said; "we are not +quite this sort of person." + +Willis looked awkward for a moment; then he said, "Well, at least you +must go into a retreat; you must go forthwith. Morley, do you know when +Mr. de Mowbray or Father Agostino gives his next retreat? Reding, it is +just what you want, just what all Oxford men want; I think you will not +refuse me." + +Charles looked up in his face, and smiled. "It is not my line," he said +at length. "I am on my way to Oxford. I must go. I came here to be of +use to you; I can be of none, so I must go. Would I _could_ be of +service; but it is hopeless. Oh, it makes my heart ache!" And he went on +brushing his hat with his glove, as if on the point of rising, yet loth +to rise. + +Morley now struck in: he spoke all along like a gentleman, and a man of +real piety, but with a great ignorance of Protestants, or how they were +to be treated. + +"Excuse me, Mr. Reding," he said, "if before you go, I say one word. I +feel very much for the struggle which is going on in your mind; and I am +sure it is not for such as me to speak harshly or unkindly to you. The +struggle between conviction and motives of this world is often long; may +it have a happy termination in your case! Do not be offended if I +suggest to you that the dearest and closest ties, such as your connexion +with the Protestant Church involves, may be on the side of the world in +certain cases. It is a sort of martyrdom to have to break such; but they +who do so have a martyr's reward. And, then, at a University you have so +many inducements to fall in with the prevailing tone of thought; +prospects, success in life, good opinion of friends--all these things +are against you. They are likely to choke the good seed. Well, I could +have wished that you had been able to follow the dictates of conscience +at once; but the conflict must continue its appointed time; we will +hope that all will end well." + +"I can't persuade these good people," thought Charles, as he closed the +street-door after him, "that I am not in a state of conviction, and +struggling against it; how absurd! Here I come to reclaim a deserter, +and I am seized even bodily, and against my will all but hurried into a +profession of faith. Do these things happen to people every day? or is +there some particular fate with me thus to be brought across religious +controversies which I am not up to? I a Roman Catholic! what a contrast +all this with quiet Hartley!" naming his home. As he continued to think +on what had passed he was still less satisfied with it or with himself. +He had gone to lecture, and he had been lectured; and he had let out his +secret state of mind: no, not let out, he had nothing to let out. He had +indeed implied that he was inquiring after religious truth, but every +Protestant inquires; he would not be a Protestant if he did not. Of +course he was seeking the truth; it was his duty to do so; he +recollected distinctly his tutor laying down, on one occasion, the duty +of private judgment. This was the very difference between Protestants +and Catholics; Catholics begin with faith, Protestants with inquiry; and +he ought to have said this to Willis. He was provoked he had not said +it; it would have simplified the question, and shown how far he was from +being unsettled. Unsettled! it was most extravagant. He wished this had +but struck him during the conversation, but it was a relief that it +struck him now; it reconciled him to his position. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +The first day of Michaelmas term is, to an undergraduate's furniture, +the brightest day of the year. Much as Charles regretted home, he +rejoiced to see old Oxford again. The porter had acknowledged him at the +gate, and the scout had smiled and bowed, as he ran up the worn +staircase and found a blazing fire to welcome him. The coals crackled +and split, and threw up a white flame in strong contrast with the +newly-blackened bars and hobs of the grate. A shining copper kettle +hissed and groaned under the internal torment of water at boiling point. +The chimney-glass had been cleaned, the carpet beaten, the curtains +fresh glazed. A tea-tray and tea commons were placed on the table; +besides a battel paper, two or three cards from tradesmen who desired +his patronage, and a note from a friend whose term had already +commenced. The porter came in with his luggage, and had just received +his too ample remuneration, when, through the closing door, in rushed +Sheffield in his travelling dress. + +"Well, old fellow, how are you?" he said, shaking both of Charles's +hands, or rather arms, with all his might; "here we are all again; I am +just come like you. Where have you been all this time? Come, tell us +all about yourself. Give me some tea, and let's have a good jolly chat." +Charles liked Sheffield, he liked Oxford, he was pleased to get back; +yet he had some remains of home-sickness on him, and was not quite in +cue for Sheffield's good-natured boisterousness. Willis's matter, too, +was still on his mind. "Have you heard the news?" said Sheffield; "I +have been long enough in college to pick it up. The kitchen-man was full +of it as I passed along. Jack's a particular friend of mine, a good +honest fellow, and has all the gossip of the place. I don't know what it +means, but Oxford has just now a very bad inside. The report is, that +some of the men have turned Romans; and they say that there are +strangers going about Oxford whom no one knows anything of. Jack, who is +a bit of a divine himself, says he heard the Principal say that, for +certain, there were Jesuits at the bottom of it; and I don't know what +he means, but he declares he saw with his own eyes the Pope walking down +High Street with the priest. I asked him how he knew it; he said he knew +the Pope by his slouching hat and his long beard; and the porter told +him it was the Pope. The Dons have met several times; and several tutors +are to be discommoned, and their names stuck up against the +buttery-door. Meanwhile the Marshal, with two bulldogs, is keeping guard +before the Catholic chapel; and, to complete it, that old drunken fellow +Topham is reported, out of malice, when called in to cut the Warden of +St. Mary's hair, to have made a clean white tonsure atop of him." + +"My dear Sheffield, how you run on!" said Reding. "Well, do you know, I +can tell you a piece of real news bearing on these reports, and not of +the pleasantest. Did you know Willis of St. George's?" + +"I think I once saw him at wine in your rooms; a modest, nice-looking +fellow, who never spoke a word." + +"Ah, I assure you, he has a tongue in his head when it suits him," +answered Charles: "yet I do think," he added, musingly, "he's very much +changed, and not for the better." + +"Well, what's the upshot?" asked Sheffield. + +"He has turned Catholic," said Charles. + +"What a fool!" cried Sheffield. + +There was a pause. Charles felt awkward: then he said, "I can't say I +was surprised; yet I should have been less surprised at White." + +"Oh, White won't turn Catholic," said Sheffield; "he hasn't it in him. +He's a coward." + +"Fools and cowards!" answered Charles: "thus you divide the world, +Sheffield? Poor Willis!" he added; "one must respect a man who acts +according to his conscience." + +"What can he know of conscience?" said Sheffield; "the idea of his +swallowing, of his own free-will, the heap of rubbish which every +Catholic has to believe! in cold blood tying a collar round his neck, +and politely putting the chain into the hands of a priest!... And then +the Confessional! 'Tis marvellous!" and he began to break the coals with +the poker. "It's very well," he continued, "if a man is born a Catholic; +I don't suppose they really believe what they are obliged to profess; +but how an Englishman, a gentleman, a man here at Oxford, with all his +advantages, can so eat dirt, scraping and picking up all the dead lies +of the dark ages--it's a miracle!" + +"Well, if there is anything that recommends Romanism to me," said +Charles, "it is what you so much dislike: I'd give twopence, if some +one, whom I could trust, would say to me, 'This is true; this is not +true.' We should be saved this eternal wrangling. Wouldn't you be glad +if St. Paul could come to life? I've often said to myself, 'Oh, that I +could ask St. Paul this or that!'" + +"But the Catholic Church isn't St. Paul quite, I guess," said Sheffield. + +"Certainly not; but supposing you _did_ think it had the inspiration of +an Apostle, as the Roman Catholics do, what a comfort it would be to +know, beyond all doubt, what to believe about God, and how to worship +and please Him! I mean, _you_ said, 'I can't believe this or that;' now +you ought to have said, 'I can't believe the Pope has _power_ to +_decide_ this or that.' If he had, you ought to believe it, whatever it +is, and not to say, 'I can't believe.'" + +Sheffield looked hard at him: "We shall have you a papist some of these +fine days," said he. + +"Nonsense," answered Charles; "you shouldn't say such things, even in +jest." + +"I don't jest; I am in earnest: you are plainly on the road." + +"Well, if I am, you have put me on it," said Reding, wishing to get away +from the subject as quick as he could; "for you are ever talking +against shams, and laughing at King Charles and Laud, Bateman, White, +rood-lofts, and piscinas." + +"Now you are a Puseyite," said Sheffield in surprise. + +"You give me the name of a very good man, whom I hardly know by sight," +said Reding; "but I mean, that nobody knows what to believe, no one has +a definite faith, but the Catholics and the Puseyites; no one says, +'This is true, that is false; this comes from the Apostles, that does +not.'" + +"Then would you believe a Turk," asked Sheffield, "who came to you with +his 'One Allah, and Mahomet his Prophet'?" + +"I did not say a creed was everything," answered Reding, "or that a +religion could not be false which had a creed; but a religion can't be +true which has none." + +"Well, somehow that doesn't strike me," said Sheffield. + +"Now there was Vincent at the end of term, after you had gone down," +continued Charles; "you know I stayed up for Littlego; and he was very +civil, very civil indeed. I had a talk with him about Oxford parties, +and he pleased me very much at the time; but afterwards, the more I +thought of what he said, the less was I satisfied; that is, I had got +nothing definite from him. He did not say, 'This is true, that is +false;' but 'Be true, be true, be good, be good, don't go too far, keep +in the mean, have your eyes about you, eschew parties, follow our +divines, all of them;'--all which was but putting salt on the bird's +tail. I want some practical direction, not abstract truths." + +"Vincent is a humbug," said Sheffield. + +"Dr. Pusey, on the other hand," continued Charles, "is said always to be +decisive. He says, 'This is Apostolic, that's in the Fathers; St. +Cyprian says this, St. Augustine denies that; this is safe, that's +wrong; I bid you, I forbid you.' I understand all this; but I don't +understand having duties put on me which are too much for me. I don't +understand, I dislike, having a will of my own, when I have not the +means to use it justly. In such a case, to tell me to act of myself, is +like Pharaoh setting the Israelites to make bricks without straw. +Setting me to inquire, to judge, to decide, forsooth! it's absurd; who +has taught me?" + +"But the Puseyites are not always so distinct," said Sheffield; "there's +Smith, he never speaks decidedly in difficult questions. I know a man +who was going to remain in Italy for some years, at a distance from any +English chapel,--he could not help it,--and who came to ask him if he +might communicate in the Catholic churches; he could not get an answer +from him; he would not say yes or no." + +"Then he won't have many followers, that's all," said Charles. + +"But he has more than Dr. Pusey," answered Sheffield. + +"Well, I can't understand it," said Charles; "he ought not; perhaps they +won't stay." + +"The truth is," said Sheffield, "I suspect he is more of a sceptic at +bottom." + +"Well, I honour the man who builds up," said Reding, "and I despise the +man who breaks down." + +"I am inclined to think you have a wrong notion of building up and +pulling down," answered Sheffield; "Coventry, in his 'Dissertations,' +makes it quite clear that Christianity is not a religion of doctrines." + +"Who is Coventry?" + +"Not know Coventry? he is one of the most original writers of the day; +he's an American, and, I believe, a congregationalist. Oh, I assure you, +you should read Coventry, although he is wrong on the question of +Church-government: you are not well _au courant_ with the literature of +the day unless you do. He is no party man; he is a correspondent of the +first men of the day; he stopped with the Dean of Oxford when he was in +England, who has published an English edition of his 'Dissertations,' +with a Preface; and he and Lord Newlights were said to be the two most +witty men at the meeting of the British Association, two years ago." + +"I don't like Lord Newlights," said Charles, "he seems to me to have no +principle; that is, no fixed, definite religious principle. You don't +know where to find him. This is what my father thinks; I have often +heard him speak of him." + +"It's curious you should use the word _principle_," said Sheffield; "for +it is that which Coventry lays such stress on. He says that Christianity +has no creed; that this is the very point in which it is distinguished +from other religions; that you will search the New Testament in vain for +a creed; but that Scripture is full of _principles_. The view is very +ingenious, and seemed to me true, when I read the book. According to +him, then, Christianity is not a religion of doctrines or mysteries; and +if you are looking for dogmatism in Scripture, it's a mistake." + +Charles was puzzled. "Certainly," he said, "at first sight there _is_ no +creed in Scripture.--No creed in Scripture," he said slowly, as if +thinking aloud; "no creed in Scripture, _therefore_ there is no creed. +But the Athanasian Creed," he added quickly, "is _that_ in Scripture? It +either _is_ in Scripture, or it is _not_. Let me see, it either is +there, or it is not.... What was it that Freeborn said last term?... +Tell me, Sheffield, would the Dean of Oxford say that the Creed was in +Scripture or not? perhaps you do not fairly explain Coventry's view; +what is your impression?" + +"Why, I will tell you frankly, my impression is, judging from his +Preface, that he would not scruple to say that it is not in Scripture, +but a scholastic addition." + +"My dear fellow," said Charles, "do you mean that he, a dignitary of the +Church, would say that the Athanasian Creed was a mistake, because it +represented Christianity as a revelation of doctrines or mysteries to be +received on faith?" + +"Well, I may be wrong," said Sheffield, "but so I understood him." + +"After all," said Charles sadly, "it's not so much more than that other +Dean, I forget his name, said at St. Mary's before the Vacation; it's +part of the same system. Oh, it was after you went down, or just at the +end of term: you don't go to sermons; I'm inclined not to go either. I +can't enter upon the Dean's argument; it's not worth while. Well," he +added, standing up and stretching himself, "I am tired with the day, yet +it has not been a fatiguing one either; but London is so bustling a +place." + +"You wish me to say good-night," said Sheffield. Charles did not deny +the charge; and the friends parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +There could not have been a lecture more unfavourable for Charles's +peace of mind than that in which he found himself this term placed; yet, +so blind are we to the future, he hailed it with great satisfaction, as +if it was to bring him an answer to the perplexities into which +Sheffield, Bateman, Freeborn, White, Willis, Mr. Morley, Dr. Brownside, +Mr. Vincent, and the general state of Oxford, had all, in one way or +other, conspired to throw him. He had shown such abilities in the former +part of the year, and was reading so diligently, that his tutors put him +prematurely into the lecture upon the Articles. It was a capital lecture +so far as this, that the tutor who gave it had got up his subject +completely. He knew the whole history of the Articles, how they grew +into their present shape, with what fortunes, what had been added, and +when, and what omitted. With this, of course, was joined an explanation +of the text, as deduced, as far as could be, from the historical account +thus given. Not only the British, but the foreign Reformers were +introduced; and nothing was wanting, at least in the intention of the +lecturer, for fortifying the young inquirer in the doctrine and +discipline of the Church of England. + +It did not produce this effect on Reding. Whether he had expected too +much, or whatever was the cause, so it was that he did but feel more +vividly the sentiment of the old father in the comedy, after consulting +the lawyers, "_Incertior sum multo quam ante_." He saw that the +profession of faith contained in the Articles was but a patchwork of +bits of orthodoxy, Lutheranism, Calvinism, and Zuinglism; and this too +on no principle; that it was but the work of accident, if there be such +a thing as accident; that it had come down in the particular shape in +which the English Church now receives it, when it might have come down +in any other shape; that it was but a toss-up that Anglicans at this day +were not Calvinists, or Presbyterians, or Lutherans, equally well as +Episcopalians. This historical fact did but clench the difficulty, or +rather impossibility, of saying what the faith of the English Church +was. On almost every point of dispute the authoritative standard of +doctrine was vague or inconsistent, and there was an imposing weight of +external testimony in favour of opposite interpretations. He stopped +after lecture once or twice, and asked information of Mr. Upton, the +tutor, who was quite ready to give it; but nothing came of these +applications as regards the object which led him to make them. + +One difficulty which Charles experienced was to know whether, according +to the Articles, Divine truth was directly _given_ us, or whether we had +to _seek_ it for ourselves from Scripture. Several Articles led to this +question; and Mr. Upton, who was a High Churchman, answered him that the +saving doctrine neither was _given_ nor was to be _sought_, but that it +was _proposed_ by the Church, and _proved_ by the individual. Charles +did not see this distinction between _seeking_ and _proving_; for how +can we _prove_ except by _seeking_ (in Scripture) for _reasons_? He put +the question in another form, and asked if the Christian Religion +allowed of private judgment? This was no abstruse question, and a very +practical one. Had he asked a Wesleyan or Independent, he would have had +an unconditional answer in the affirmative; had he asked a Catholic, he +would have been told that we used our private judgment to find the +Church, and then in all matters of faith the Church superseded it; but +from this Oxford divine he could not get a distinct answer. First he was +told that doubtless we _must_ use our judgment in the determination of +religious doctrine; but next he was told that it was sin (as it +undoubtedly is) to doubt the dogma of the Blessed Trinity. Yet, while he +was told that to doubt of that doctrine was a sin, he was told in +another conversation that our highest state here is one of doubt. What +did this mean? Surely certainty was simply necessary on _some_ points, +as on the Object of worship; how could we worship what we doubted of? +The two acts were contrasted by the Evangelist; when the disciples saw +our Lord after the resurrection, "they worshipped Him, _but_ some +doubted;" yet, in spite of this, he was told that there was "impatience" +in the very idea of desiring certainty. + +At another time he asked whether the anathemas of the Athanasian Creed +applied to all its clauses; for instance, whether it is necessary to +salvation to hold that there is "_unus aeternus_" as the Latin has it; or +"such as the Father, ... such the Holy Ghost;" or that the Holy Ghost +is "by Himself God and Lord;" or that Christ is one "by the taking of +the manhood into God?" He could get no answer. Mr. Upton said that he +did not like extreme questions; that he could not and did not wish to +answer them; that the Creed was written against heresies, which no +longer existed, as a sort of _protest_. Reding asked whether this meant +that the Creed did not contain a distinctive view of its own, which +alone was safe, but was merely a negation of error. The clauses, he +observed, were positive, not negative. He could get no answer farther +than that the Creed taught that the doctrines of "the Trinity" and "the +Incarnation" were "necessary to salvation," it being apparently left +uncertain _what_ those doctrines consisted in. One day he asked how +grievous sins were to be forgiven which were committed after baptism, +whether by faith, or not at all in this life. He was answered that the +Articles said nothing on the subject; that the Romish doctrine of pardon +and purgatory was false; and that it was well to avoid both curious +questions and subtle answers. + +Another question turned up at another lecture, viz. whether the Real +Presence meant a Presence of Christ in the elements, or in the soul, +i.e. in the faith of the recipient; in other words, whether the Presence +was really such, or a mere name. Mr. Upton pronounced it an open +question. Another day Charles asked whether Christ was present in fact, +or only in effect. Mr. Upton answered decidedly "in effect," which +seemed to Reding to mean no real presence at all. + +He had had some difficulty in receiving the doctrine of eternal +punishment; it had seemed to him the hardest doctrine of Revelation. +Then he said to himself, "But what is faith in its very notion but an +acceptance of the word of God when reason seems to oppose it? How is it +faith at all if there is nothing to try it?" This thought fully +satisfied him. The only question was, _Is_ it part of the revealed word? +"I can believe it," he said, "if I know for certain that I _ought_ to +believe it; but if I am not bound to believe it, I can't believe it." +Accordingly he put the question to Mr. Upton whether it was a doctrine +of the Church of England; that is, whether it came under the +subscription to the Articles. He could obtain no answer. Yet if he did +_not_ believe this doctrine, he felt the whole fabric of his faith shake +under him. Close upon it came the doctrine of the Atonement. + +It is difficult to give instances of this kind, without producing the +impression on the reader's mind that Charles was forward and captious in +his inquiries. Certainly Mr. Upton had his own thoughts about him, but +he never thought his manner inconsistent with modesty and respect +towards himself. + +Charles naturally was full of the subject, and would have disclosed his +perplexities to Sheffield, had he not had a strong anticipation that +this would have been making matters worse. He thought Bateman, however, +might be of some service, and he disburdened himself to him in the +course of a country walk. What was he to do? for on his entrance he had +been told that when he took his degree he should have to sign the +Articles, not on faith as then, but on reason; yet they were +unintelligible; and how could he prove what he could not construe? + +Bateman seemed unwilling to talk on the subject; at last he said, "Oh, +my dear Reding, you really are in an excited state of mind; I don't like +to talk to you just now, for you will not see things in a +straightforward way and take them naturally. What a bug-bear you are +conjuring up! You are in an Article lecture in your second year; and +hardly have you commenced, but you begin to fancy what you will, or will +not think at the end of your time. Don't ask about the Articles now; +wait at least till you have seen the lecture through." + +"It really is not my way to be fussed or to fidget," said Charles, +"though I own I am not so quiet as I ought to be. I hear so many +different opinions in conversation; then I go to church, and one +preacher deals his blows at another; lastly, I betake myself to the +Articles, and really I cannot make out what they would teach me. For +instance, I cannot make out their doctrine about faith, about the +sacraments, about predestination, about the Church, about the +inspiration of Scripture. And their tone is so unlike the Prayer Book. +Upton has brought this out in his lectures most clearly." + +"Now, my most respectable friend," said Bateman, "do think for a moment +what men have signed the Articles. Perhaps King Charles himself; +certainly Laud, and all the great Bishops of his day, and of the next +generation. Think of the most orthodox Bull, the singularly learned +Pearson, the eloquent Taylor, Montague, Barrow, Thorndike, good dear +Bishop Horne, and Jones of Nayland. Can't you do what they did?" + +"The argument is a very strong one," said Charles; "I have felt it: you +mean, then, I must sign on faith." + +"Yes, certainly, if necessary," said Bateman. + +"And how am I to sign as a Master, and when I am ordained?" asked +Charles. + +"That's what I mean by fidgeting," answered Bateman. "You are not +content with your day; you are reaching forward to live years hence." + +Charles laughed. "It isn't quite that," he said, "I was but testing your +advice; however, there's some truth in it." And he changed the subject. + +They talked awhile on indifferent matters; but on a pause Charles's +thoughts fell back again to the Articles. "Tell me, Bateman," he said, +"as a mere matter of curiosity, how _you_ subscribed when you took your +degree." + +"Oh, I had no difficulty at all," said Bateman; "the examples of Bull +and Pearson were enough for me." + +"Then you signed on faith." + +"Not exactly, but it was that thought which smoothed all difficulties." + +"Could you have signed without it?" + +"How can you ask me the question? of course." + +"Well, do tell me, then, what was your _ground_?" + +"Oh, I had many grounds. I can't recollect in a moment what happened +some time ago." + +"Oh, then it was a matter of difficulty; indeed, you said so just now." + +"Not at all: my only difficulty was, not about myself, but how to state +the matter to other people." + +"What! some one suspected you?" + +"No, no; you are quite mistaken. I mean, for instance, the Article says +that we are justified by faith only; now the Protestant sense of this +statement is point blank opposite to our standard divines: the question +was, what I was to say when asked _my_ sense of it." + +"I understand," said Charles; "now tell me how you solved the problem." + +"Well, I don't deny that the Protestant sense is heretical," answered +Bateman; "and so is the Protestant sense of many other things in the +Articles; but then we need not take them in the Protestant sense." + +"Then in what sense?" + +"Why, first," said Bateman, "we need not take them in any sense at all. +Don't smile; listen. Great authorities, such as Laud or Bramhall, seem +to have considered that we only sign the Articles as articles of peace; +not as really holding them, but as not opposing them. Therefore, when we +sign the Articles, we only engage not to preach against them." + +Reding thought; then he said: "Tell me, Bateman, would not this view of +subscription to the Articles let the Unitarians into the Church?" + +Bateman allowed it would, but the Liturgy would still keep them out. +Charles then went on to suggest that _they_ would take the Liturgy as a +Liturgy of peace too. Bateman began again. + +"If you want some tangible principle," he said, "for interpreting +Articles and Liturgy, I can give you one. You know," he continued, after +a short pause, "what it is _we_ hold? Why, we give the Articles a +Catholic interpretation." + +Charles looked inquisitive. + +"It is plain," continued Bateman, "that no document can be a dead +letter; it must be the expression of some mind; and the question here +is, _whose_ is what may be called the voice which speaks the Articles. +Now, if the Bishops, Heads of houses, and other dignitaries and +authorities were unanimous in their religious views, and one and all +said that the Articles meant this and not that, they, as the imponents, +would have a right to interpret them; and the Articles would mean what +those great men said they meant. But they do not agree together; some of +them are diametrically opposed to others. One clergyman denies +Apostolical Succession, another affirms it; one denies the Lutheran +justification, another maintains it; one denies the inspiration of +Scripture, a second holds Calvin to be a saint, a third considers the +doctrine of sacramental grace a superstition, a fourth takes part with +Nestorius against the Church, a fifth is a Sabellian. It is plain, then, +that the Articles have no sense at all, if the collective voice of +Bishops, Deans, Professors, and the like is to be taken. They cannot +supply what schoolmen call the _form_ of the Articles. But perhaps the +writers themselves of the Articles will supply it? No; for, first, we +don't know for certain who the writers were; and next, the Articles have +gone through so many hands, and so many mendings, that some at least of +the original authors would not like to be responsible for them. Well, +let us go to the Convocations which ratified them: but they, too, were +of different sentiments; the seventeenth century did not hold the +doctrine of the sixteenth. Such is the state of the case. On the other +hand, _we_ say that if the Anglican Church be a part of the one Church +Catholic, it must, from the necessity of the case, hold Catholic +doctrine. Therefore, the whole Catholic Creed, the acknowledged doctrine +of the Fathers, of St. Ignatius, St. Cyprian, St. Augustin, St. Ambrose, +is the _form_, is the one true sense and interpretation of the Articles. +They may be ambiguous in themselves; they may have been worded with +various intentions by the individuals concerned in their composition; +but these are accidents; the Church knows nothing of individuals; she +interprets herself." + +Reding took some time to think over this. "All this," he said, "proceeds +on the fundamental principle that the Church of England is an integral +part of that visible body of which St. Ignatius, St. Cyprian, and the +rest were Bishops; according to the words of Scripture, 'one body, one +faith.'" + +Bateman assented; Charles proceeded: "Then the Articles must not be +considered primarily as teaching; they have no one sense in themselves; +they are confessedly ambiguous: they are compiled from heterogeneous +sources; but all this does not matter, for all must be interpreted by +the teaching of the Catholic Church." + +Bateman agreed in the main, except that Reding had stated the case +rather too strongly. + +"But what if their letter _contradicts_ a doctrine of the Fathers? am I +to force the letter?" + +"If such a case actually happened, the theory would not hold," answered +Bateman; "it would only be a gross quibble. You can in no case sign an +Article in a sense which its words will not bear. But, fortunately, or +rather providentially, this is not the case; we have merely to explain +ambiguities, and harmonize discrepancies. The Catholic interpretation +does no greater violence to the text than _any other_ rule of +interpretation will be found to do." + +"Well, but I know nothing of the Fathers," said Charles; "others too are +in the same condition; how am I to learn practically to interpret the +Articles?" + +"By the Prayer Book; the Prayer Book is the voice of the Fathers." + +"How so?" + +"Because the Prayer Book is confessedly ancient, while the Articles are +modern." + +Charles kept silence again. "It is very plausible," he said; he thought +on. Presently he asked: "Is this a _received_ view?" + +"_No_ view is received," said Bateman; "the Articles themselves are +received, but there is no authoritative interpretation of them at all. +That's what I was saying just now; Bishops and Professors don't agree +together." + +"Well," said Charles, "is it a _tolerated_ view?" + +"It has certainly been strongly opposed," answered Bateman; "but it has +never been condemned." + +"That is no answer," said Charles, who saw by Bateman's manner how the +truth lay. "Does any one Bishop hold it? did any one Bishop ever hold +it? has it ever been formally admitted as tenable by any one Bishop? is +it a view got up to meet existing difficulties, or has it an historical +existence?" + +Bateman could give but one answer to these questions, as they were +successively put to him. + +"I thought so," said Charles, when he had made his answer: "I know, of +course, whose view you are putting before me, though I never heard it +drawn out before. It is specious, certainly: I don't see but it might +have done, had it been tolerably sanctioned; but you have no sanction to +show me. It is, as it stands, a mere theory struck out by individuals. +Our Church _might_ have adopted this mode of interpreting the Articles; +but from what you tell me, it certainly _has not_ done so. I am where I +was." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The thought came across Reding whether perhaps, after all, what is +called Evangelical Religion was not the true Christianity: its +professors, he knew, were active and influential, and in past times had +been much persecuted. Freeborn had surprised and offended him at +Bateman's breakfast-party before the Vacation; yet Freeborn had a +serious manner about him, and perhaps he had misunderstood him. The +thought, however, passed away as suddenly as it came, and perhaps would +not have occurred to him again, when an accident gave him some data for +determining the question. + +One afternoon he was lounging in the Parks, gazing with surprise on one +of those extraordinary lights for which the neighbourhood of Oxford is +at that season celebrated, and which, as the sun went down, was +colouring Marston, Elsfield, and their half-denuded groves with a pale +gold-and-brown hue, when he found himself overtaken and addressed by the +said Freeborn _in propria persona_. Freeborn liked a _tete-a-tete_ talk +much better than a dispute in a party; he felt himself at more advantage +in long leisurely speeches, and he was soon put out of breath when he +had to bolt-out or edge-in his words amid the ever-varying voices of a +breakfast-table. He thought the present might be a good opportunity of +doing good to a poor youth who did not know chalk from cheese, and who, +by his means, might be, as he would word it, "savingly converted." So +they got into conversation, talked of Willis's step, which Freeborn +called awful; and, before Charles knew where he was, he found himself +asking Freeborn what he meant by "faith." + +"Faith," said Freeborn, "is a Divine gift, and is the instrument of our +justification in God's sight. We are all by nature displeasing to Him, +till He justifies us freely for Christ's sake. Faith is like a hand, +appropriating personally the merits of Christ, who is our justification. +Now, what can we want more, or have more, than those merits? Faith, +then, is everything, and does everything for us. You see, then, how +important it is to have a right view about justification by faith only. +If we are sound on this capital point, everything else may take its +chance; we shall at once see the folly of contending about ceremonies, +about forms of Church-government, about, I will even say, sacraments or +creeds. External things will, in that case, either be neglected, or will +find a subordinate place." + +Reding observed that of course Freeborn did not mean to say that good +works were not necessary for obtaining God's favour; "but if they were, +how was justification by faith only?" + +Freeborn smiled, and said that he hoped Reding would have clearer views +in a little time. It was a very simple matter. Faith not only justified, +it regenerated also. It was the root of sanctification, as well as of +Divine acceptance. The same act, which was the means of bringing us into +God's favour, secured our being meet for it. Thus good works were +secured, because faith would not be true faith unless it were such as to +be certain of bringing forth good works in due time. + +Reding thought this view simple and clear, though it unpleasantly +reminded him of Dr. Brownside. Freeborn added that it was a doctrine +suited to the poor, that it put all the gospel into a nutshell, that it +dispensed with criticism, primitive ages, teachers--in short, with +authority in whatever form. It swept theology clean away. There was no +need to mention this last consequence to Charles; but he passed it by, +wishing to try the system on its own merits. + +"You speak of _true_ faith," he said, "as producing good works: you say +that no faith justifies _but_ true faith, and true faith produces good +works. In other words, I suppose, faith, which is _certain to be +fruitful_, or _fruitful_ faith, justifies. This is very like saying that +faith and works are the joint means of justification." + +"Oh, no, no," cried Freeborn, "that is deplorable doctrine: it is quite +opposed to the gospel, it is anti-Christian. We are justified by faith +only, apart from good works." + +"I am in an Article lecture just now," said Charles, "and Upton told us +that we must make a distinction of _this_ kind; for instance, the Duke +of Wellington is Chancellor of the University, but, though he is as much +Chancellor as Duke, still he sits in the House of Lords as Duke, not as +Chancellor. Thus, although faith is as truly fruitful as it is faith, +yet it does not justify as being fruitful, but as being faith. Is this +what you mean?" + +"Not at all," said Freeborn; "that was Melancthon's doctrine; he +explained away a cardinal truth into a mere matter of words; he made +faith a mere symbol, but this is a departure from the pure gospel: faith +is the _instrument_, not a _symbol_ of justification. It is, in truth, a +mere _apprehension_, and nothing else: the seizing and clinging which a +beggar might venture on when a king passed by. Faith is as poor as Job +in the ashes: it is like Job stripped of all pride and pomp and good +works: it is covered with filthy rags: it is without anything good: it +is, I repeat, a mere apprehension. Now you see what I mean." + +"I can't believe I understand you," said Charles: "you say that to have +faith is to seize Christ's merits; and that we have them, if we will but +seize them. But surely not every one who seizes them, gains them; +because dissolute men, who never have a dream of thorough repentance or +real hatred of sin, would gladly seize and appropriate them, if they +might do so. They would like to get to heaven for nothing. Faith, then, +must be some particular _kind_ of apprehension; _what_ kind? good works +cannot be mistaken, but an 'apprehension' may. What, then, is a true +apprehension? what _is_ faith?" + +"What need, my dear friend," answered Freeborn, "of knowing +metaphysically what true faith is, if we have it and enjoy it? I do not +know what bread is, but I eat it; do I wait till a chemist analyzes it? +No, I eat it, and I feel the good effects afterwards. And so let us be +content to know, not what faith _is_, but what it _does_, and enjoy our +blessedness in possessing it." + +"I really don't want to introduce metaphysics," said Charles, "but I +will adopt your own image. Suppose I suspected the bread before me to +have arsenic in it, or merely to be unwholesome, would it be wonderful +if I tried to ascertain how the fact stood?" + +"Did you do so this morning at breakfast?" asked Freeborn. + +"I did not suspect my bread," answered Charles. + +"Then why suspect faith?" asked Freeborn. + +"Because it is, so to say, a new substance,"--Freeborn sighed,--"because +I am not used to it, nay, because I suspect it. I must say _suspect_ it; +because, though I don't know much about the matter, I know perfectly +well, from what has taken place in my father's parish, what excesses +this doctrine may lead to, unless it is guarded. You say that it is a +doctrine for the poor; now they are very likely to mistake one thing for +another; so indeed is every one. If, then, we are told, that we have but +to apprehend Christ's merits, and need not trouble ourselves about +anything else; that justification has taken place, and works will +follow; that all is done, and that salvation is complete, while we do +but continue to have faith; I think we ought to be pretty sure that we +_have_ faith, real faith, a real apprehension, before we shut up our +books and make holiday." + +Freeborn was secretly annoyed that he had got into an argument, or +pained, as he would express it, at the pride of Charles's natural man, +or the blindness of his carnal reason; but there was no help for it, he +must give him an answer. + +"There are, I know, many kinds of faith," he said; "and of course you +must be on your guard against mistaking false faith for true faith. Many +persons, as you most truly say, make this mistake; and most important is +it, all important I should say, to go right. First, it is evident that +it is not mere belief in facts, in the being of a God, or in the +historical event that Christ has come and gone. Nor is it the submission +of the reason to mysteries; nor, again, is it that sort of trust which +is required for exercising the gift of miracles. Nor is it knowledge and +acceptance of the contents of the Bible. I say, it is not knowledge, it +is not assent of the intellect, it is not historical faith, it is not +dead faith: true justifying faith is none of these--it is seated in the +heart and affections." He paused, then added: "Now, I suppose, for +practical purposes, I have described pretty well what justifying faith +is." + +Charles hesitated: "By describing what it is _not_, you mean," said he; +"justifying faith, then, is, I suppose, living faith." + +"Not so fast," answered Freeborn. + +"Why," said Charles, "if it's not dead faith, it's living faith." + +"It's neither dead faith nor living," said Freeborn, "but faith, simple +faith, which justifies. Luther was displeased with Melancthon for saying +that living and operative faith justified. I have studied the question +very carefully." + +"Then do _you_ tell me," said Charles, "what faith is, since I do not +explain it correctly. For instance, if you said (what you don't say), +that faith was submission of the reason to mysteries, or acceptance of +Scripture as an historical document, I should know perfectly well what +you meant; _that_ is information: but when you say, that faith which +justifies is an _apprehension_ of Christ, that it is _not_ living faith, +or fruitful faith, or operative, but a something which in fact and +actually is distinct from these, I confess I feel perplexed." + +Freeborn wished to be out of the argument. "Oh," he said, "if you really +once experienced the power of faith--how it changes the heart, +enlightens the eyes, gives a new spiritual taste, a new sense to the +soul; if you once knew what it was to be blind, and then to see, you +would not ask for definitions. Strangers need verbal descriptions; the +heirs of the kingdom enjoy. Oh, if you could but be persuaded to put off +high imaginations; to strip yourself of your proud self, and to +_experience_ in yourself the wonderful change, you would live in praise +and thanksgiving, instead of argument and criticism." + +Charles was touched by his warmth; "But," he said, "we ought to act by +reason; and I don't see that I have more, or so much, reason to listen +to you, as to listen to the Roman Catholic, who tells me I cannot +possibly have that certainty of faith before believing, which on +believing will be divinely given me." + +"Surely," said Freeborn, with a grave face, "you would not compare the +spiritual Christian, such as Luther, holding his cardinal doctrine about +justification, to any such formal, legal, superstitious devotee as +Popery can make, with its carnal rites and quack remedies, which never +really cleanse the soul or reconcile it to God?" + +"I don't like you to talk so," said Reding; "I know very little about +the real nature of Popery; but when I was a boy I was once, by chance, +in a Roman Catholic chapel; and I really never saw such devotion in my +life--the people all on their knees, and most earnestly attentive to +what was going on. I did not understand what that was; but I am sure, +had you been there, you never would have called their religion, be it +right or wrong, an outward form or carnal ordinance." + +Freeborn said it deeply pained him to hear such sentiments, and to find +that Charles was so tainted with the errors of the day; and he began, +not with much tact, to talk of the Papal Antichrist, and would have got +off to prophecy, had Charles said a word to afford fuel for discussion. +As he kept silence, Freeborn's zeal burnt out, and there was a break in +the conversation. + +After a time, Reding ventured to begin again. + +"If I understand you," he said, "faith carries its own evidence with it. +Just as I eat my bread at breakfast without hesitation about its +wholesomeness, so, when I have really faith, I know it beyond mistake, +and need not look out for tests of it?" + +"Precisely so," said Freeborn; "you begin to see what I mean; you grow. +The soul is enlightened to see that it has real faith." + +"But how," asked Charles, "are we to rescue those from their dangerous +mistake, who think they have faith, while they have not? Is there no way +in which they can find out that they are under a delusion?" + +"It is not wonderful," said Freeborn, "though there be no way. There are +many self-deceivers in the world. Some men are self-righteous, trust in +their works, and think they are safe when they are in a state of +perdition; no formal rules _can_ be given by which their reason might +for certain detect their mistake. And so of false faith." + +"Well, it does seem to me wonderful," said Charles, "that there is no +natural and obvious warning provided against this delusion; wonderful +that false faith should be so exactly like true faith that there is +nothing to determine their differences from each other. Effects imply +causes: if one apprehension of Christ leads to good works, and another +does not, there must be something _in_ the one which is not _in_ the +other. _What_ is a false apprehension of Christ wanting in, which a true +apprehension has? The word _apprehension_ is so vague; it conveys no +definite idea to me, yet justification depends on it. Is a false +apprehension, for instance, wanting in repentance and amendment?" + +"No, no," said Freeborn; "true faith is complete without conversion; +conversion follows; but faith is the root." + +"Is it the love of God which distinguishes true faith from false?" + +"Love?" answered Freeborn; "you should read what Luther says in his +celebrated comment on the Galatians. He calls such a doctrine +'_pestilens figmentum_,' '_diaboli portentum_;' and cries out against +the Papists, '_Pereant sophistae cum sua maledicta glossa!_'" + +"Then it differs from false faith in nothing." + +"Not so," said Freeborn; "it differs from it in its fruits: 'By their +fruits ye shall know them.'" + +"This is coming round to the same point again," said Charles; "fruits +come after; but a man, it seems, is to take comfort in his justification +_before_ fruits come, before he knows that his faith will produce them." + +"Good works are the _necessary_ fruits of faith," said Freeborn; "so +says the Article." + +Charles made no answer, but said to himself, "My good friend here +certainly has not the clearest of heads;" then aloud, "Well, I despair +of getting at the bottom of the subject." + +"Of course," answered Freeborn, with an air of superiority, though in a +mild tone, "it is a very simple principle, '_Fides justificat ante et +sine charitate_;' but it requires a Divine light to embrace it." + +They walked awhile in silence; then, as the day was now closing in, they +turned homewards, and parted company when they came to the Clarendon. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Freeborn was not the person to let go a young man like Charles without +another effort to gain him; and in a few days he invited him to take tea +at his lodgings. Charles went at the appointed time, through the wet and +cold of a dreary November evening, and found five or six men already +assembled. He had got into another world; faces, manners, speeches, all +were strange, and savoured neither of Eton, which was his own school, +nor of Oxford itself. He was introduced, and found the awkwardness of a +new acquaintance little relieved by the conversation which went on. It +was a dropping fire of serious remarks; with pauses, relieved only by +occasional "ahems," the sipping of tea, the sound of spoons falling +against the saucers, and the blind shifting of chairs as the flurried +servant-maid of the lodgings suddenly came upon them from behind, with +the kettle for the teapot, or toast for the table. There was no nature +or elasticity in the party, but a great intention to be profitable. + +"Have you seen the last _Spiritual Journal_?" asked No. 1 of No. 2 in a +low voice. + +No. 2 had just read it. + +"A very remarkable article that," said No. 1, "upon the deathbed of the +Pope." + +"No one is beyond hope," answered No. 2. + +"I have heard of it, but not seen it," said No. 3. + +A pause. + +"What is it about?" asked Reding. + +"The late Pope Sixtus the Sixteenth," said No. 3; "he seems to have died +a believer." + +A sensation. Charles looked as if he wished to know more. + +"The _Journal_ gives it on excellent authority," said No. 2; "Mr. +O'Niggins, the agent for the Roman Priest Conversion Branch Tract +Society, was in Rome during his last illness. He solicited an audience +with the Pope, which was granted to him. He at once began to address him +on the necessity of a change of heart, belief in the one Hope of +sinners, and abandonment of all creature mediators. He announced to him +the glad tidings, and assured him there was pardon for all. He warned +him against the figment of baptismal regeneration; and then, proceeding +to apply the word, he urged him, though in the eleventh hour, to receive +the Bible, the whole Bible, and nothing but the Bible. The Pope listened +with marked attention, and displayed considerable emotion. When it was +ended, he answered Mr. O'Niggins that it was his fervent hope that they +two would not die without finding themselves in one communion, or +something of the sort. He declared moreover, what was astonishing, that +he put his sole trust in Christ, 'the source of all merit,' as he +expressed it--a remarkable phrase." + +"In what language was the conversation carried on?" asked Reding. + +"It is not stated," answered No. 2; "but I am pretty sure Mr. O'Niggins +is a good French scholar." + +"It does not seem to me," said Charles, "that the Pope's admissions are +greater than those made continually by certain members of our own +Church, who are nevertheless accused of Popery." + +"But they are extorted from such persons," said Freeborn, "while the +Pope's were voluntary." + +"The one party go back into darkness," said No. 3; "the Pope was coming +forward into light." + +"One ought to interpret everything for the best in a real Papist," said +Freeborn, "and everything for the worst in a Puseyite. That is both +charity and common sense." + +"This was not all," continued No. 2; "he called together the Cardinals, +protested that he earnestly desired God's glory, said that inward +religion was all in all, and forms were nothing without a contrite +heart, and that he trusted soon to be in Paradise--which, you know, was +a denial of the doctrine of Purgatory." + +"A brand from the burning, I do hope," said No. 3. + +"It has frequently been observed," said No. 4, "nay it has struck me +myself, that the way to convert Romanists is first to convert the Pope." + +"It is a sure way, at least," said Charles timidly, afraid he was saying +too much; but his irony was not discovered. + +"Man cannot do it," said Freeborn; "it's the power of faith. Faith can +be vouchsafed even to the greatest sinners. You see now, perhaps," he +said, turning to Charles, "better than you did, what I meant by faith +the other day. This poor old man could have no merit; he had passed a +long life in opposing the Cross. Do your difficulties continue?" + +Charles had thought over their former conversation very carefully +several times, and he answered, "Why, I don't think they do to the same +extent." + +Freeborn looked pleased. + +"I mean," he said, "that the idea hangs together better than I thought +it did at first." + +Freeborn looked puzzled. + +Charles, slightly colouring, was obliged to proceed, amid the profound +silence of the whole party. "You said, you know, that justifying faith +was without love or any other grace besides itself, and that no one +could at all tell what it was, except afterwards, from its fruits; that +there was no test by which a person could examine himself, whether or +not he was deceiving himself when he thought he had faith, so that good +and bad might equally be taking to themselves the promises and the +privileges peculiar to the gospel. I thought this a hard doctrine +certainly at first; but, then, afterwards it struck me that faith is +perhaps a result of a previous state of mind, a blessed result of a +blessed state, and therefore may be considered the reward of previous +obedience; whereas sham faith, or what merely looks like faith, is a +judicial punishment." + +In proportion as the drift of the former part of this speech was +uncertain, so was the conclusion very distinct. There was no mistake, +and an audible emotion. + +"There is no such thing as previous merit," said No. 1; "all is of +grace." + +"Not merit, I know," said Charles, "but"---- + +"We must not bring in the doctrine of _de condigno_ or _de congruo_," +said No. 2. + +"But surely," said Charles, "it is a cruel thing to say to the unlearned +and the multitude, 'Believe, and you are at once saved; do not wait for +fruits, rejoice at once,' and neither to accompany this announcement by +any clear description of what faith is, nor to secure them by previous +religious training against self-deception!" + +"That is the very gloriousness of the doctrine," said Freeborn, "that it +is preached to the worst of mankind. It says, 'Come as you are; don't +attempt to make yourselves better. Believe that salvation is yours, and +it is yours: good works follow after.'" + +"On the contrary," said Charles, continuing his argument, "when it is +said that justification follows upon baptism, we have an intelligible +something pointed out, which every one can ascertain. Baptism is an +external unequivocal token; whereas that a man has this secret feeling +called faith, no one but himself can be a witness, and he is not an +unbiassed one." + +Reding had at length succeeded in throwing that dull tea-table into a +state of great excitement. "My dear friend," said Freeborn, "I had hoped +better things; in a little while, I hope, you will see things +differently. Baptism is an outward rite; what is there, can there be, +spiritual, holy, or heavenly in baptism?" + +"But you tell me faith too is not spiritual," said Charles. + +"_I_ tell you!" cried Freeborn, "when?" + +"Well," said Charles, somewhat puzzled, "at least you do not think it +holy." + +Freeborn was puzzled in his turn. + +"If it is holy," continued Charles, "it has something good in it; it has +some worth; it is not filthy rags. All the good comes afterwards, you +said. You said that its fruits were holy, but that it was nothing at all +itself." + +There was a momentary silence, and some agitation of thought. + +"Oh, faith is certainly a holy feeling," said No. 1. + +"No, it is spiritual, but not holy," said No. 2; "it is a mere act, the +apprehension of Christ's merits." + +"It is seated in the affections," said No. 3; "faith is a feeling of the +heart; it is trust, it is a belief that Christ is _my_ Saviour; all this +is distinct from holiness. Holiness introduces self-righteousness. Faith +is peace and joy, but it is not holiness. Holiness comes after." + +"Nothing can cause holiness but what is holy; this is a sort of axiom," +said Charles; "if the fruits are holy, faith, which is the root, is +holy." + +"You might as well say that the root of a rose is red, and of a lily +white," said No. 3. + +"Pardon me, Reding," said Freeborn, "it is, as my friend says, an +_apprehension_. An apprehension is a seizing; there is no more holiness +in justifying faith, than in the hand's seizing a substance which comes +in its way. This is Luther's great doctrine in his 'Commentary' on the +Galatians. It is nothing in itself--it is a mere instrument; this is +what he teaches, when he so vehemently resists the notion of justifying +faith being accompanied by love." + +"I cannot assent to that doctrine," said No. 1; "it may be true in a +certain sense, but it throws stumbling-blocks in the way of seekers. +Luther could not have meant what you say, I am convinced. Justifying +faith is always accompanied by love." + +"That is what I thought," said Charles. + +"That is the Romish doctrine all over," said No. 2; "it is the doctrine +of Bull and Taylor." + +"Luther calls it, '_venenum infernale_,'" said Freeborn. + +"It is just what the Puseyites preach at present," said No. 3. + +"On the contrary," said No. 1, "it is the doctrine of Melancthon. Look +here," he continued, taking his pocketbook out of his pocket, "I have +got his words down as Shuffleton quoted them in the Divinity-school the +other day: '_Fides significat fiduciam; in fiducida_ inest _dilectio; +ergo etiam dilectione sumus justi_.'" + +Three of the party cried "Impossible!" The paper was handed round in +solemn silence. + +"Calvin said the same," said No. 1 triumphantly. + +"I think," said No. 4, in a slow, smooth, sustained voice, which +contrasted with the animation which had suddenly inspired the +conversation, "that the con-tro-ver-sy, ahem, may be easily arranged. It +is a question of words between Luther and Melancthon. Luther says, ahem, +'faith is _without_ love,' meaning, 'faith without love justifies.' +Melancthon, on the other hand, says, ahem, 'faith is _with_ love,' +meaning, 'faith justifies with love.' Now both are true: for, ahem, +faith-without-love _justifies_, yet faith justifies _not-without-love_." + +There was a pause, while both parties digested this explanation. + +"On the contrary," he added, "it is the Romish doctrine that +faith-with-love justifies." + +Freeborn expressed his dissent; he thought this the doctrine of +Melancthon which Luther condemned. + +"You mean," said Charles, "that justification is given to faith _with_ +love, not to faith _and_ love." + +"You have expressed my meaning," said No. 4. + +"And what is considered the difference between _with_ and _and_?" asked +Charles. + +No. 4 replied without hesitation, "Faith is the _instrument_, love the +_sine qua non_." + +Nos. 2 and 3 interposed with a protest; they thought it "legal" to +introduce the phrase _sine qua non_; it was introducing _conditions_. +Justification was unconditional. + +"But is not faith a condition?" asked Charles. + +"Certainly not," said Freeborn; "'condition' is a legal word. How can +salvation be free and full, if it is conditional?" + +"There are no conditions," said No. 3; "all must come from the heart. We +believe with the heart, we love from the heart, we obey with the heart; +not because we are obliged, but because we have a new nature." + +"Is there no obligation to obey?" said Charles, surprised. + +"No obligation to the regenerate," answered No. 3; "they are above +obligation; they are in a new state." + +"But surely Christians are under a law," said Charles. + +"Certainly not," said No. 2; "the law is done away in Christ." + +"Take care," said No. 1; "that borders on Antinomianism." + +"Not at all," said Freeborn; "an Antinomian actually holds that he may +break the law: a spiritual believer only holds that he is not bound to +keep it." + +Now they got into a fresh discussion among themselves; and, as it seemed +as interminable as it was uninteresting, Reding took an opportunity to +wish his host a good night, and to slip away. He never had much leaning +towards the evangelical doctrine; and Freeborn and his friends, who knew +what they were holding a great deal better than the run of their party, +satisfied him that he had not much to gain by inquiring into that +doctrine farther. So they will vanish in consequence from our pages. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +When Charles got to his room he saw a letter from home lying on his +table; and, to his alarm, it had a deep black edge. He tore it open. +Alas, it announced the sudden death of his dear father! He had been +ailing some weeks with the gout, which at length had attacked his +stomach, and carried him off in a few hours. + +O my poor dear Charles, I sympathize with you keenly all that long +night, and in that indescribable waking in the morning, and that dreary +day of travel which followed it! By the afternoon you were at home. O +piercing change! it was but six or seven weeks before that you had +passed the same objects the reverse way, with what different feelings, +and oh, in what company, as you made for the railway omnibus! It was a +grief not to be put into words; and to meet mother, sisters--and the +Dead!... + +The funeral is over by some days; Charles is to remain at home the +remainder of the term, and does not return to Oxford till towards the +end of January. The signs of grief have been put away; the house looks +cheerful as before; the fire as bright, the mirrors as clear, the +furniture as orderly; the pictures are the same, and the ornaments on +the mantelpiece stand as they have stood, and the French clock tells the +hour, as it has told it, for years past. The inmates of the parsonage +wear, it is most true, the signs of a heavy bereavement; but they +converse as usual, and on ordinary subjects; they pursue the same +employments, they work, they read, they walk in the garden, they dine. +There is no change except in the inward consciousness of an overwhelming +loss. _He_ is not there, not merely on this day or that, for so it well +might be; he is not merely away, but, as they know well, he is gone and +will not return. That he is absent now is but a token and a memorial to +their minds that he will be absent always. But especially at dinner; +Charles had to take a place which he had sometimes filled, but then as +the deputy, and in the presence of him whom now he succeeded. His +father, being not much more than a middle-aged man, had been accustomed +to carve himself. And when at the meal of the day Charles looked up, he +had to encounter the troubled look of one, who, from her place at table, +had before her eyes a still more vivid memento of their common +loss;--_aliquid desideraverunt oculi_. + +Mr. Reding had left his family well provided for; and this, though a +real alleviation of their loss in the event, perhaps augmented the pain +of it at the moment. He had ever been a kind indulgent father. He was a +most respectable clergyman of the old school; pious in his sentiments, a +gentleman in his feelings, exemplary in his social relations. He was no +reader, and never had been in the way to gain theological knowledge; he +sincerely believed all that was in the Prayer Book, but his sermons were +very rarely doctrinal. They were sensible, manly discourses on the moral +duties. He administered Holy Communion at the three great festivals, saw +his Bishop once or twice a year, was on good terms with the country +gentlemen in his neighbourhood, was charitable to the poor, hospitable +in his housekeeping, and was a staunch though not a violent supporter of +the Tory interest in his county. He was incapable of anything harsh, or +petty, or low, or uncourteous; and died esteemed by the great houses +about him, and lamented by his parishioners. + +It was the first great grief poor Charles had ever had, and he felt it +to be real. How did the small anxieties which had of late teased him, +vanish before this tangible calamity! He then understood the difference +between what was real and what was not. All the doubts, inquiries, +surmises, views, which had of late haunted him on theological subjects, +seemed like so many shams, which flitted before him in sun-bright hours, +but had no root in his inward nature, and fell from him, like the +helpless December leaves, in the hour of his affliction. He felt now +_where_ his heart and his life lay. His birth, his parentage, his +education, his home, were great realities; to these his being was +united; out of these he grew. He felt he must be what Providence had +made him. What is called the pursuit of truth, seemed an idle dream. He +had great tangible duties to his father's memory, to his mother and +sisters, to his position; he felt sick of all theories, as if they had +taken him in; and he secretly resolved never more to have anything to do +with them. Let the world go on as it might, happen what would to others, +his own place and his own path were clear. He would go back to Oxford, +attend steadily to his books, put aside all distractions, avoid +bye-paths, and do his best to acquit himself well in the schools. The +Church of England as it was, its Articles, bishops, preachers, +professors, had sufficed for much better persons than he was; they were +good enough for him. He could not do better than imitate the life and +death of his beloved father; quiet years in the country at a distance +from all excitements, a round of pious, useful works among the poor, the +care of a village school, and at length the death of the righteous. + +At the moment, and for some time to come, he had special duties towards +his mother; he wished, as far as might be, to supply to her the place of +him she had lost. She had great trials before her still; if it was a +grief to himself to leave Hartley, what would it be to her? Not many +months would pass before she would have to quit a place ever dear, and +now sacred in her thoughts; there was in store for her the anguish of +dismantling the home of many years, and the toil and whirl of packing; a +wearied head and an aching heart at a time when she would have most need +of self-possession and energy. + +Such were the thoughts which came upon him again and again in those +sorrowful weeks. A leaf had been turned over in his life; he could not +be what he had been. People come to man's estate at very different +ages. Youngest sons in a family, like monks in a convent, may remain +children till they have reached middle age; but the elder, should their +father die prematurely, are suddenly ripened into manhood, when they are +almost boys. Charles had left Oxford a clever unformed youth; he +returned a man. + + + + +Part II. + +CHAPTER I. + + +About three miles from Oxford a thickly-wooded village lies on the side +of a steep, long hill or chine, looking over the Berkshire woods, and +commanding a view of the many-turreted city itself. Over its broad +summit once stretched a chestnut forest; and now it is covered with the +roots of trees, or furze, or soft turf. The red sand which lies +underneath contrasts with the green, and adds to its brilliancy; it +drinks in, too, the rain greedily, so that the wide common is nearly +always fit for walking; and the air, unlike the heavy atmosphere of the +University beneath it, is fresh and bracing. The gorse was still in +bloom, in the latter end of the month of June, when Reding and Sheffield +took up their abode in a small cottage at the upper end of this +village--so hid with trees and girt in with meadows that for the +stranger it was hard to find--there to pass their third and last Long +Vacation before going into the schools. + +A year and a half had passed since Charles's great affliction, and the +time had not been unprofitably spent either by himself or his friend. +Both had read very regularly, and Sheffield had gained the Latin verse +into the bargain. Charles had put all religious perplexities aside; that +is, he knew of course many more persons of all parties than he did +before, and became better acquainted with their tenets and their +characters, but he did not dwell upon anything which he met with, nor +attempt to determine the merits or solve the difficulties of this or +that question. He took things as they came; and, while he gave his mind +to his books, he thankfully availed himself of the religious privileges +which the College system afforded him. Nearly a year still remained +before his examination; and, as Mrs. Reding had not as yet fully +arranged her plans, but was still, with her daughters, passing from +friend to friend, he had listened to Sheffield's proposal to take a +tutor for the Vacation, and to find a site for their studies in the +neighbourhood of Oxford. There was every prospect of their both +obtaining the highest honours which the schools award: they both were +good scholars, and clever men; they had read regularly, and had had the +advantage of able lectures. + +The side of the hill forms a large, sweeping hollow or theatre just on +one side of the village of Horsley. The two extreme points may be half a +mile across; but the distance is increased to one who follows the path +which winds through the furze and fern along the ridge. Their tutor had +been unable to find lodgings in the village; and, while the two young +men lived on one extremity of the sweep we have been describing, Mr. +Carlton, who was not above three years older than they, had planted +himself at a farmhouse upon the other. Besides, the farmhouse suited +him better, as being nearer to a hamlet which he was serving during the +Vacation. + +"I don't think you like Carlton as well as I do," said Reding to +Sheffield, as they lay on the green sward with some lighter classic in +their hands, waiting for dinner, and watching their friend as he +approached them from his lodgings. "He is to me so taking a man; so +equable, so gentle, so considerate--he brings people together, and fills +them with confidence in himself and friendly feeling towards each other, +more than any person I know." + +"You are wrong," said Sheffield, "if you think I don't value him +extremely, and love him too; it's impossible not to love him. But he's +not the person quite to get influence over me." + +"He's too much of an Anglican for you," said Reding. + +"Not at all," said Sheffield, "except indirectly. My quarrel with him +is, that he has many original thoughts, and holds many profound truths +in detail, but is quite unable to see how they lie to each other, and +equally unable to draw consequences. He never sees a truth until he +touches it; he is ever groping and feeling, and, as in hide-and-seek, +continually burns without discovering. I know there are ten thousand +persons who cannot see an inch before their nose, and who can +comfortably digest contradictions; but Carlton is really a clever man; +he is no common thinker; this makes it so provoking. When I write an +essay for him--I know I write obscurely, and often do not bring out the +sequence of my ideas in due order, but, so it is--he is sure to cut out +the very thought or statement on which I especially pride myself, on +which the whole argument rests, which binds every part together; and he +coolly tells me that it is extravagant or far-fetched--not seeing that +by leaving it out he has made nonsense of the rest. He is a man to rob +an arch of its keystone, and then quietly to build his house upon it." + +"Ah, your old failing again," said Reding; "a craving after views. Now, +what I like in Carlton, is that repose of his;--always saying enough, +never too much; never boring you, never taxing you; always practical, +never in the clouds. Save me from a viewy man; I could not live with him +for a week, present company always excepted." + +"Now, considering how hard I have read, and how little I have talked +this year past, that is hard on me," said Sheffield. "Did not I go to be +one of old Thruston's sixteen pupils, last Long? He gave us capital +feeds, smoked with us, and coached us in Ethics and Agamemnon. He knows +his books by heart, can repeat his plays backwards, and weighs out his +Aristotle by grains and pennyweights; but, for generalizations, ideas, +poetry, oh, it was desolation--it was a darkness which could be felt!" + +"And you stayed there just six weeks out of four months, Sheffield," +answered Reding. + +Carlton had now joined them, and, after introductory greetings on both +sides, he too threw himself upon the turf. Sheffield said: "Reding and I +were disputing just now whether Nicias was a party man." + +"Of course you first defined your terms," said Carlton. + +"Well," said Sheffield, "I mean by a party man, one who not only belongs +to a party, but who has the _animus_ of party. Nicias did not make a +party, he found one made. He found himself at the head of it; he was no +more a party man than a prince who was born the head of his state." + +"I should agree with you," said Carlton; "but still I should like to +know what a party is, and what a party man." + +"A party," said Sheffield, "is merely an extra-constitutional or +extra-legal body." + +"Party action," said Charles, "is the exertion of influence instead of +law." + +"But supposing, Reding, there is no law existing in the quarter where +influence exerts itself?" asked Carlton. + +Charles had to explain: "Certainly," he said, "the State did not +legislate for all possible contingencies." + +"For instance," continued Carlton, "a prime minister, I have understood, +is not acknowledged in the Constitution; he exerts influence beyond the +law, but not, in consequence, against any existing law; and it would be +absurd to talk of him as a party man." + +"Parliamentary parties, too, are recognised among us," said Sheffield, +"though extra-constitutional. We call them parties; but who would call +the Duke of Devonshire or Lord John Russell, in a bad sense, a party +man?" + +"It seems to me," said Carlton, "that the formation of a party is +merely a recurrence to the original mode of forming into society. You +recollect Deioces; he formed a party. He gained influence; he laid the +foundation of social order." + +"Law certainly begins in influence," said Reding, "for it presupposes a +lawgiver; afterwards it supersedes influence; from that time the +exertion of influence is a sign of party." + +"Too broadly said, as you yourself just now allowed," said Carlton: "you +should say that law _begins_ to supersede influence, and that _in +proportion_ as it supersedes it, does the exertion of influence involve +party action. For instance, has not the Crown an immense personal +influence? we talk of the Court _party_; yet it does not interfere with +law, it is intended to conciliate the people to the law." + +"But it is recognized by law and constitution," said Charles, "as was +the Dictatorship." + +"Well, then, take the influence of the clergy," answered Carlton; "we +make much of that influence as a principle supplemental to the law, and +as a support to the law, yet not created or defined by the law. The law +does not recognize what some one calls truly a 'resident gentleman' in +every parish. Influence, then, instead of law is not necessarily the +action of party." + +"So again, national character is an influence distinct from the law," +said Sheffield, "according to the line, '_Quid leges sine moribus_?'" + +"Law," said Carlton, "is but gradually formed and extended. Well, then, +so far as there is no law, there is the reign of influence; there is +party without of necessity _party_ action. This is the justification of +Whigs and Tories at the present day; to supply, as Aristotle says on +another subject, the defects of the law. Charles I. exerted a regal, +Walpole a ministerial influence; but influence, not law, was the +operating principle in both cases. The object or the means might be +wrong, but the process could not be called party action." + +"You would justify, then," said Charles, "the associations or +confraternities which existed, for instance, in Athens; not, that is, if +they 'took the law into their own hands,' as the phrase goes, but if +there was no law to take, or if there was no constituted authority to +take it of right. It was a recurrence to the precedent of Deioces." + +"Manzoni gives a striking instance of this in the beginning of his +_Promessi Sposi_," said Sheffield, "when he describes that protection, +which law ought to give to the weak, as being in the sixteenth century +sought and found almost exclusively in factions or companies. I don't +recollect particulars, but he describes the clergy as busy in extending +their immunities, the nobility their privileges, the army their +exemptions, the trades and artisans their guilds. Even the lawyers +formed a union, and medical men a corporation." + +"Thus constitutions are gradually moulded and perfected," said Carlton, +"by extra-constitutional bodies, either coming under the protection of +law, or else being superseded by the law's providing for their objects. +In the middle ages the Church was a vast extra-constitutional body. The +German and Anglo-Norman sovereigns sought to bring its operation +_under_ the law; modern parliaments have superseded its operation _by +law_. Then the State wished to gain the right of investitures; now the +State marries, registers, manages the poor, exercises ecclesiastical +jurisdiction instead of the Church." + +"This will make ostracism parallel to the Reformation or the +Revolution," said Sheffield; "there is a battle of influence against +influence, and one gets rid of the other; law or constitution does not +come into question, but the will of the people or of the court ejects, +whether the too-gifted individual, or the monarch, or the religion. What +was not under the law could not be dealt with, had no claim to be dealt +with, by the law." + +"A thought has sometimes struck me," said Reding, "which falls in with +what you have been saying. In the last half-century there has been a +gradual formation of the popular party in the State, which now tends to +be acknowledged as constitutional, or is already so acknowledged. My +father never could endure newspapers--I mean the system of newspapers; +he said it was a new power in the State. I am sure I am not defending +what he was thinking of, the many bad proceedings, the wretched +principles, the arrogance and tyranny of newspaper writers, but I am +trying the subject by the test of your theory. The great body of the +people are very imperfectly represented in parliament; the Commons are +not their voice, but the voice of certain great interests. Consequently +the press comes in--to do that which the constitution does not do--to +form the people into a vast mutual-protection association. And this is +done by the same right that Deioces had to collect people about him; it +does not interfere with the existing territory of the law, but builds +where the constitution has not made provision. It _tends_, then, +ultimately to be recognised by the constitution." + +"There is another remarkable phenomenon of a similar kind now in process +of development," said Carlton, "and that is, the influence of agitation. +I really am not politician enough to talk of it as good or bad; one's +natural instinct is against it; but it may be necessary. However, +agitation is getting to be recognised as the legitimate instrument by +which the masses make their desires known, and secure the accomplishment +of them. Just as a bill passes in parliament, after certain readings, +discussions, speeches, votings, and the like, so the process by which an +act of the popular will becomes law is a long agitation, issuing in +petitions, previous to and concurrent with the parliamentary process. +The first instance of this was about fifty or sixty years ago, when ... +Hallo!" he cried, "who is this cantering up to us?" + +"I declare it is old Vincent," said Sheffield. + +"He is to come to dine," said Charles, "just in time." + +"How are you, Carlton?" cried Vincent. "How d'ye do, Mr. Sheffield? Mr. +Reding, how d'ye do? acting up to your name, I suppose, for you were +ever a reading man. For myself," he continued, "I am just now an eating +man, and am come to dine with you, if you will let me. Have you a place +for my horse?" + +There was a farmer near who could lend a stable; so the horse was led +off by Charles; and the rider, without any delay--for the hour did not +admit it--entered the cottage to make his brief preparation for dinner. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +In a few minutes all met together at table in the small parlour, which +was room of all work in the cottage. They had not the whole house, +limited as were its resources; for it was also the habitation of a +gardener, who took his vegetables to the Oxford market, and whose wife +(what is called) _did_ for his lodgers. + +Dinner was suited to the apartment, apartment to the dinner. The +book-table had been hastily cleared for a cloth, not over white, and, in +consequence, the sole remaining table, which acted as sideboard, +displayed a relay of plates and knives and forks, in the midst of +octavos and duodecimos, bound and unbound, piled up and thrown about in +great variety of shapes. The other ornaments of this side-table were an +ink-glass, some quires of large paper, a straw hat, a gold watch, a +clothes-brush, some bottles of ginger-beer, a pair of gloves, a case of +cigars, a neck-handkerchief, a shoe-horn, a small slate, a large +clasp-knife, a hammer, and a handsome inlaid writing-desk. + +"I like these rides into the country," said Vincent, as they began +eating, "the country loses its effect on me when I live in it, as you +do; but it is exquisite as a zest. Visit it, do not live in it, if you +would enjoy it. Country air is a stimulus; stimulants, Mr. Reding, +should not be taken too often. You are of the country party. I am of no +party. I go here and there--like the bee--I taste of everything, I +depend on nothing." + +Sheffield said that this was rather belonging to all parties than to +none. + +"That is impossible," answered Vincent; "I hold it to be altogether +impossible. You can't belong to two parties; there's no fear of it; you +might as well attempt to be in two places at once. To be connected with +both is to be united with neither. Depend on it, my young friend, +antagonist principles correct each other. It's a piece of philosophy +which one day you will thank me for, when you are older." + +"I have heard of an American illustration of this," said Sheffield, +"which certainly confirms what you say, sir. Professors in the United +States are sometimes of two or three religions at once, according as we +regard them historically, personally, or officially. In this way, +perhaps, they hit the mean." + +Vincent, though he so often excited a smile in others, had no humour +himself, and never could make out the difference between irony and +earnest. Accordingly he was brought to a stand. + +Charles came to his relief. "Before dinner," he said, "we were sporting +what you will consider a great paradox, I am afraid; that parties were +good things, or rather necessary things." + +"You don't do me justice," answered Vincent, "if this is what you think +I deny. I halve your words; parties are not good, but necessary; like +snails, I neither envy them their small houses, nor try to lodge in them +myself." + +"You mean," said Carlton, "that parties do our dirty work; they are our +beasts of burden; we could not get on without them, but we need not +identify ourselves with them; we may keep aloof." + +"That," said Sheffield, "is something like those religious professors +who say that it is sinful to engage in worldly though necessary +occupations; but that the reprobate undertake them, and work for the +elect." + +"There will always be persons enough in the world who like to be party +men, without being told to be so," said Vincent; "it's our business to +turn them to account, to use them, but to keep aloof. I take it, all +parties are partly right, only they go too far. I borrow from each, I +co-operate with each, as far as each is right, and no further. Thus I +get good from all, and I do good to all; for I countenance each, so far +as it is true." + +"Mr. Carlton meant more than that, sir," said Sheffield; "he meant that +the existence of parties was not only necessary and useful, but even +right." + +"Mr. Carlton is not the man to make paradoxes," said Vincent; "I suspect +he would not defend the extreme opinions, which, alas, exist among us at +present, and are progressing every day." + +"I was speaking of political parties," said Carlton, "but I am disposed +to extend what I said to religious also." + +"But, my good Carlton," said Vincent, "Scripture speaks against +religious parties." + +"Certainly I don't wish to oppose Scripture," said Carlton, "and I speak +under correction of Scripture; but I say this, that whenever and +wherever a church does not decide religious points, so far does it leave +the decision to individuals; and, since you can't expect all people to +agree together, you must have different opinions; and the expression of +those different opinions, by the various persons who hold them, is what +is called a party." + +"Mr. Carlton has been great, sir, on the general subject before dinner," +said Sheffield, "and now he draws the corollary, that whenever there are +parties in a church, a church may thank itself for them. They are the +certain effect of private judgment; and the more private judgment you +have, the more parties you will have. You are reduced, then, to this +alternative, no toleration or else party; and you must recognise party, +unless you refuse toleration." + +"Sheffield words it more strongly than I should do," said Carlton; "but +really I mean pretty much what he says. Take the case of the Roman +Catholics; they have decided many points of theology, many they have not +decided; and wherever there is no ecclesiastical decision, there they +have at once a party, or what they call a 'school;' and when the +ecclesiastical decision at length appears, then the party ceases. Thus +you have the Dominicans and Franciscans contending about the Immaculate +Conception; they went on contending because authority did not at once +decide the question. On the other hand, when Jesuits and Jansenists +disputed on the question of grace, the Pope gave it in favour of the +Jesuits, and the controversy at once came to an end." + +"Surely," said Vincent, "my good and worthy friend, the Rev. Charles +Carlton, Fellow of Leicester, and sometime Ireland Essayist, is not +preferring the Church of Rome to the Church of England?" + +Carlton laughed; "You won't suspect me of that, I think," he answered; +"no; all I say is, that our Church, from its constitution, admits, +approves of private judgment; and that private judgment, so far forth as +it is admitted, necessarily involves parties; the slender private +judgment allowed in the Church of Rome admitting occasional or local +parties, and the ample private judgment allowed in our Church +recognizing parties as an element of the Church." + +"Well, well, my good Carlton," said Vincent, frowning and looking wise, +yet without finding anything particular to say. + +"You mean," said Sheffield, "if I understand you, that it is a piece of +mawkish hypocrisy to shake the head and throw up the eyes at Mr. this or +that for being the head of a religious party, while we return thanks for +our pure and reformed Church; because purity, reformation, apostolicity, +toleration, all these boasts and glories of the Church of England, +establish party action and party spirit as a cognate blessing, for which +we should be thankful also. Party is one of our greatest ornaments, Mr. +Vincent." + +"A sentiment or argument does not lose in your hands," said Carlton; +"but what I meant was simply that party leaders are not dishonourable in +the Church, unless Lord John Russell or Sir Robert Peel hold a +dishonourable post in the State." + +"My young friend," said Vincent, finishing his mutton, and pushing his +plate from him, "my two young friends--for Carlton is not much older +than Mr. Sheffield--may you learn a little more judgment. When you have +lived to my age" (viz. two or three years beyond Carlton's) "you will +learn sobriety in all things. Mr. Reding, another glass of wine. See +that poor child, how she totters under the gooseberry-pudding; up, Mr. +Sheffield, and help her. The old woman cooks better than I had expected. +How do you get your butcher's meat here, Carlton? I should have made the +attempt to bring you a fine jack I saw in our kitchen, but I thought you +would have no means of cooking it." + +Dinner over, the party rose, and strolled out on the green. Another +subject commenced. + +"Was not Mr. Willis of St. George's a friend of yours, Mr. Reding?" +asked Vincent. + +Charles started; "I knew him a little ... I have seen him several +times." + +"You know he left us," continued Vincent, "and joined the Church of +Rome. Well, it is credibly reported that he is returning." + +"A melancholy history, anyhow," answered Charles; "most melancholy, if +this is true." + +"Rather," said Vincent, setting him right, as if he had simply made a +verbal mistake, "a most happy termination, you mean; the only thing that +was left for him to do. You know he went abroad. Any one who is +inclined to Romanize should go abroad; Carlton, we shall be sending you +soon. Here things are softened down; there you see the Church of Rome as +it really is. I have been abroad, and should know it. Such heaps of +beggars in the streets of Rome and Naples; so much squalidness and +misery; no cleanliness; an utter want of comfort; and such superstition; +and such an absence of all true and evangelical seriousness. They push +and fight while Mass is going on; they jabber their prayers at railroad +speed; they worship the Virgin as a goddess; and they see miracles at +the corner of every street. Their images are awful, and their ignorance +prodigious. Well, Willis saw all this; and I have it on good authority," +he said mysteriously, "that he is thoroughly disgusted with the whole +affair, and is coming back to us." + +"Is he in England now?" asked Reding. + +"He is said to be with his mother in Devonshire, who, perhaps you know, +is a widow; and he has been too much for her. Poor silly fellow, who +would not take the advice of older heads! A friend once sent him to me; +I could make nothing of him. I couldn't understand his arguments, nor he +mine. It was no good; he would make trial himself, and he has caught +it." + +There was a short pause in the conversation; then Vincent added, "But +such perversions, Carlton, I suppose, thinks to be as necessary as +parties in a pure Protestant Church." + +"I can't say you satisfy me, Carlton," said Charles; "and I am happy to +have the sanction of Mr. Vincent. Did political party make men rebels, +then would political party be indefensible; so is religious, if it +leads to apostasy." + +"You know the Whigs _were_ accused in the last war," said Sheffield, "of +siding with Bonaparte; accidents of this kind don't affect general rules +or standing customs." + +"Well, independent of this," answered Charles, "I cannot think religious +parties defensible on the considerations which justify political. There +is, to my feelings, something despicable in heading a religious party." + +"Was Loyola despicable," asked Sheffield, "or St. Dominic?" + +"They had the sanction of their superiors," said Charles. + +"You are hard on parties surely, Reding," said Carlton; "a man may +individually write, preach, and publish what he believes to be the +truth, without offence; why, then, does it begin to be wrong when he +does so together with others?" + +"Party tactics are a degradation of the truth," said Charles. + +"We have heard, I believe, before now," said Carlton, "of Athanasius +against the whole world, and the whole world against Athanasius." + +"Well," answered Charles, "I will but say this, that a party man must be +very much above par or below it." + +"There, again, I don't agree," said Carlton; "you are supposing the +leader of a party to be conscious of what he is doing; and, being +conscious, he may be, as you say, either much above or below the +average; but a man need not realise to himself that he is forming a +party." + +"That's more difficult to conceive," said Vincent, "than any statement +which has been hazarded this afternoon." + +"Not at all difficult," answered Carlton: "do you mean that there is +only one way of gaining influence? surely there is such a thing as +unconscious influence?" + +"I'd as easily believe," said Vincent, "that a beauty does not know her +charms." + +"That's narrow-minded," retorted Carlton: "a man sits in his room and +writes, and does not know what people think of him." + +"I'd believe it less," persisted Vincent: "beauty is a fact; influence +is an effect. Effects imply agents, agency, will and consciousness." + +"There are different modes of influence," interposed Sheffield; +"influence is often spontaneous and almost necessary." + +"Like the light on Moses' face," said Carlton. + +"Bonaparte is said to have had an irresistible smile," said Sheffield. + +"What is beauty itself, but a spontaneous influence?" added Carlton; +"don't you recollect 'the lovely young Lavinia' in Thomson?" + +"Well, gentlemen," said Vincent, "when I am Chancellor I will give a +prize essay on 'Moral Influence, its Kinds and Causes,' and Mr. +Sheffield shall get it; and as to Carlton, he shall be my Poetry +Professor when I am Convocation." + +You will say, good reader, that the party took a very short stroll on +the hill, when we tell you that they were now stooping their heads at +the lowly door of the cottage; but the terse _littera scripta_ abridges +wondrously the rambling _vox emissa_; and there might be other things +said in the course of the conversation which history has not +condescended to record. Anyhow, we are obliged now to usher them again +into the room where they had dined, and where they found tea ready laid, +and the kettle speedily forthcoming. The bread and butter were +excellent; and the party did justice to them, as if they had not lately +dined. "I see you keep your tea in tin cases," said Vincent; "I am for +glass. Don't spare the tea, Mr. Reding; Oxford men do not commonly fail +on that head. Lord Bacon says the first and best juice of the grape, +like the primary, purest, and best comment on Scripture, is not pressed +and forced out, but consists of a natural exudation. This is the case in +Italy at this day; and they call the juice '_lagrima_.' So it is with +tea, and with coffee too. Put in a large quantity, pour on the water, +turn off the liquor; turn it off at once--don't let it stand; it becomes +poisonous. I am a great patron of tea; the poet truly says, 'It cheers, +but not inebriates.' It has sometimes a singular effect upon my nerves; +it makes me whistle--so people tell me; I am not conscious of it. +Sometimes, too, it has a dyspeptic effect. I find it does not do to take +it too hot; we English drink our liquors too hot. It is not a French +failing; no, indeed. In France, that is, in the country, you get nothing +for breakfast but acid wine and grapes; this is the other extreme, and +has before now affected me awfully. Yet acids, too, have a soothing +sedative effect upon one; lemonade especially. But nothing suits me so +well as tea. Carlton," he continued mysteriously, "do you know the late +Dr. Baillie's preventive of the flatulency which tea produces? Mr. +Sheffield, do you?" Both gave up. "Camomile flowers; a little camomile, +not a great deal; some people chew rhubarb, but a little camomile in the +tea is not perceptible. Don't make faces, Mr. Sheffield; a little, I +say; a little of everything is best--_ne quid nimis_. Avoid all +extremes. So it is with sugar. Mr. Reding, you are putting too much into +your tea. I lay down this rule: sugar should not be a substantive +ingredient in tea, but an adjective; that is, tea has a natural +roughness; sugar is only intended to remove that roughness; it has a +negative office; when it is more than this, it is too much. Well, +Carlton, it is time for me to be seeing after my horse. I fear he has +not had so pleasant an afternoon as I. I have enjoyed myself much in +your suburban villa. What a beautiful moon! but I have some very rough +ground to pass over. I daren't canter over the ruts with the gravel-pits +close before me. Mr. Sheffield, do me the favour to show me the way to +the stable. Good-bye to you, Carlton; good night, Mr. Reding." + +When they were left to themselves Charles asked Carlton if he really +meant to acquit of party spirit the present party leaders in Oxford. +"You must not misunderstand me," answered he; "I do not know much of +them, but I know they are persons of great merit and high character, and +I wish to think the best of them. They are most unfairly attacked, that +is certain; however, they are accused of wishing to make a display, of +aiming at influence and power, of loving agitation, and so on. I cannot +deny that some things they have done have an unpleasant appearance, and +give plausibility to the charge. I wish they had, at certain times, +acted otherwise. Meanwhile, I do think it but fair to keep in view that +the existence of parties is no fault of theirs. They are but claiming +their birthright as Protestants. When the Church does not speak, others +will speak instead; and learned men have the best right to speak. Again, +when learned men speak, others will attend to them; and thus the +formation of a party is rather the act of those who follow than of those +who lead." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Sheffield had some friends residing at Chalton, a neighbouring village, +with a scholar of St. Michael's, who had a small cure with a house on +it. One of them, indeed, was known to Reding also, being no other than +our friend White, who was going into the schools, and during the last +six months had been trying to make up for the time he had wasted in the +first years of his residence. Charles had lost sight of him, or nearly +so, since he first knew him; and at their time of life so considerable +an interval could not elapse without changes in the character for good +or evil, or for both. Carlton and Charles, who were a good deal thrown +together by Sheffield's frequent engagements with the Chalton party, +were just turning homewards in their walk one evening when they fell in +with White, who had been calling at Mr. Bolton's in Oxford, and was +returning. They had not proceeded very far before they were joined by +Sheffield and Mr. Barry, the curate of Chalton; and thus the party was +swelled to five. + +"So you are going to lose Upton?" said Barry to Reding; "a capital +tutor; you can ill spare him. Who comes into his place?" + +"We don't know," answered Charles; "the Principal will call up one of +the Junior Fellows from the country, I believe." + +"Oh, but you won't get a man like Upton," said Carlton; "he knew his +subject so thoroughly. His lecture in the Agricola, I've heard your men +say, might have been published. It was a masterly, minute running +comment on the text, quite exhausting it." + +"Yes, it was his forte," said Charles; "yet he never loaded his +lectures; everything he said had a meaning, and was wanted." + +"He has got a capital living," said Barry; "a substantial modern house, +and by the rail only an hour from London." + +"And _500l._ a year," said White; "Mr. Bolton went over the living, and +told me so. It's in my future neighbourhood; a very beautiful country, +and a number of good families round about." + +"They say he's going to marry the Dean of Selsey's daughter," said +Barry; "do you know the family? Miss Juliet, the thirteenth, a very +pretty girl." + +"Yes," said White, "I know them all; a most delightful family; Mrs. +Bland is a charming woman, so very ladylike. It's my good luck to be +under the Dean's jurisdiction; I think I shall pull with him capitally." + +"He's a clever man," said Barry; "his charges are always well written; +he had a high name in his day at Cambridge." + +"Hasn't he been lately writing against your friends here, White?" said +Sheffield. + +"_My_ friends!" said White; "whom can you mean? He has written against +parties and party leaders; and with reason, I think. Oh, yes; he alluded +to poor Willis and some others." + +"It was more that that," insisted Sheffield; "he charged against certain +sayings and doings at St. Mary's." + +"Well, I for one cannot approve of all that is uttered from the pulpit +there," said White; "I know for a fact that Willis refers with great +satisfaction to what he heard there as inclining him to Romanism." + +"I wish preachers and hearers would all go over together at once, and +then we should have some quiet time for proper University studies," said +Barry. + +"Take care what you are saying, Barry," said Sheffield; "you mean +present company excepted. You, White, I think, come under the +denomination of hearers?" + +"I!" said White; "no such thing. I have been to hear him before now, as +most men have; but I think him often very injudicious, or worse. The +tendency of his preaching is to make one dissatisfied with one's own +Church." + +"Well," said Sheffield, "one's memory plays one tricks, or I should say +that a friend of mine had said ten times as strong things against our +Church as any preacher in Oxford ever did." + +"You mean me," said White, with earnestness; "you have misunderstood me +grievously. I have ever been most faithful to the Church of England. You +never heard me say anything inconsistent with the warmest attachment to +it. I have never, indeed, denied the claims of the Romish Church to be a +branch of the Catholic Church, nor will I,--that's another thing quite; +there are many things which we might borrow with great advantage from +the Romanists. But I have ever loved, and hope I shall ever venerate, my +own Mother, the Church of my baptism." + +Sheffield made an odd face, and no one spoke. White continued, +attempting to preserve an unconcerned manner: "It is remarkable," he +said, "that Mr. Bolton--who, though a layman, and no divine, is a +sensible, practical, shrewd man--never liked that pulpit; he always +prophesied no good would come of it." + +The silence continuing, White presently fell upon Sheffield. "I defy +you," he said, with an attempt to be jocular, "to prove what you have +been hinting; it is a great shame. It's so easy to speak against men, to +call them injudicious, extravagant, and so on. You are the only +person--" + +"Well, well, I know it, I know it," said Sheffield; "we're only +canonizing you, and I am the devil's advocate." + +Charles wanted to hear something about Willis; so he turned the current +of White's thoughts by coming up and asking him whether there was any +truth in the report he had heard from Vincent several weeks before; had +White heard from him lately? White knew very little about him +definitely, and was not able to say whether the report was true or not. +So far was certain, that he had returned from abroad and was living at +home. Thus he had not committed himself to the Church of Rome, whether +as a theological student or as a novice; but he could not say more. Yes, +he had heard one thing more; and the subject of a letter which he had +received from him corroborated it--that he was very strong on the point +that Romanism and Anglicanism were two religions; that you could not +amalgamate them; that you must be Roman or Anglican, but could not be +Anglo-Roman or Anglo-Catholic. "This is what a friend told me. In his +letter to myself," White continued, "I don't know quite what he meant, +but he spoke a good deal of the necessity of faith in order to be a +Catholic. He said no one should go over merely because he thought he +should like it better; that he had found out by experience that no one +could live on sentiment; that the whole system of worship in the Romish +Church was different from what it is in our own; nay, the very idea of +worship, the idea of prayers; that the doctrine of intention itself, +viewed in all its parts, constituted a new religion. He did not speak of +himself definitely, but he said generally that all this might be a great +discouragement to a convert, and throw him back. On the whole, the tone +of his letter was like a person disappointed, and who might be +reclaimed; at least, so I thought." + +"He is a wiser, even if he is a sadder man," said Charles: "I did not +know he had so much in him. There is more reflection in all this than so +excitable a person, as he seemed to me, is capable of exercising. At the +same time there is nothing in all this to prove that he is sorry for +what he has done." + +"I have granted this," said White; "still the effect of the letter was +to keep people back from following him, by putting obstacles in their +way; and then we must couple this with the fact of his going home." + +Charles thought awhile. "Vincent's testimony," he said, "is either a +confirmation or a mere exaggeration of what you have told me, according +as it is independent or not." Then he said to himself, "White, too, has +more in him than I thought; he really has spoken about Willis very +sensibly: what has come to him?" + +The paths soon divided; and while the Chalton pair took the right hand, +Carlton and his pupils turned to the left. Soon Carlton parted from the +two friends, and they reached their cottage just in time to see the +setting sun. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +A few days later, Carlton, Sheffield, and Reding were talking together +after dinner out of doors about White. + +"How he is altered," said Charles, "since I first knew him!" + +"Altered!" cried Sheffield; "he was a playful kitten once, and now he is +one of the dullest old tabbies I ever came across." + +"Altered for the better," said Charles; "he has now a steady sensible +way of talking; but he was not a very wise person two years ago; he is +reading, too, really hard." + +"He has some reason," said Sheffield, "for he is sadly behindhand; but +there is another cause of his steadiness which perhaps you know." + +"I! no indeed," answered Charles. + +"I thought of course you knew it," said Sheffield; "you don't mean to +say you have not heard that he is engaged to some Oxford girl?" + +"Engaged!" cried Charles, "how absurd!" + +"I don't see that at all, my dear Reding," said Carlton. "It's not as if +he could not afford it; he has a good living waiting for him; and, +moreover, he is thus losing no time, which is a great thing in life. +Much time is often lost. White will soon find himself settled in every +sense of the word, in mind, in life, in occupation." + +Charles said that there was one thing which could not help surprising +him, namely, that when White first came up he was so strong in his +advocacy of clerical celibacy. Carlton and Sheffield laughed. "And do +you think," said the former, "that a youth of eighteen can have an +opinion on such a subject, or knows himself well enough to make a +resolution in his own case? Do you really think it fair to hold a man +committed to all the random opinions and extravagant sayings into which +he was betrayed when he first left school?" + +"He had read some ultra-book or other," said Sheffield; "or had seen +some beautiful nun sculptured on a chancel-screen, and was carried away +by romance--as others have been and are." + +"Don't you suppose," said Carlton, "that those good fellows who now are +so full of 'sacerdotal purity,' 'angelical blessedness,' and so on, will +one and all be married by this time ten years?" + +"I'll take a bet of it," said Sheffield: "one will give in early, one +late, but there is a time destined for all. Pass some ten or twelve +years, as Carlton says, and we shall find A.B. on a curacy, the happy +father of ten children; C.D. wearing on a long courtship till a living +falls; E.F. in his honeymoon; G.H. lately presented by Mrs. H. with +twins; I.K. full of joy, just accepted; L.M. may remain what Gibbon +calls 'a column in the midst of ruins,' and a very tottering column +too." + +"Do you really think," said Charles, "that people mean so little what +they say?" + +"You take matters too seriously, Reding," answered Carlton; "who does +not change his opinions between twenty and thirty? A young man enters +life with his father's or tutor's views; he changes them for his own. +The more modest and diffident he is, the more faith he has, so much the +longer does he speak the words of others; but the force of +circumstances, or the vigour of his mind, infallibly obliges him at last +to have a mind of his own; that is, if he is good for anything." + +"But I suspect," said Reding, "that the last generation, whether of +fathers or tutors, had no very exalted ideas of clerical celibacy." + +"Accidents often clothe us with opinions which we wear for a time," said +Carlton. + +"Well, I honour people who wear their family suit; I don't honour those +at all who begin with foreign fashions and then abandon them." + +"A few years more of life," said Carlton, smiling, "will make your +judgment kinder." + +"I don't like talkers," continued Charles; "I don't think I ever shall; +I hope not." + +"I know better what's at the bottom of it," said Sheffield; "but I can't +stay; I must go in and read; Reding is too fond of a gossip." + +"Who talks so much as you, Sheffield?" said Charles. + +"But I talk fast when I talk," answered he, "and get through a great +deal of work; then I give over: but you prose, and muse, and sigh, and +prose again." And so he left them. + +"What does he mean?" asked Carlton. + +Charles slightly coloured and laughed: "You are a man I say things to, I +don't to others," he made answer; "as to Sheffield, he fancies he has +found it out of himself." + +Carlton looked round at him sharply and curiously. + +"I am ashamed of myself," said Charles, laughing and looking confused; +"I have made you think that I have something important to tell, but +really I have nothing at all." + +"Well, out with it," said Carlton. + +"Why, to tell the truth,--no, really, it is too absurd. I have made a +fool of myself." + +He turned away, then turned back, and resumed: + +"Why, it was only this, that Sheffield fancies I have some sneaking +kindness for ... celibacy myself." + +"Kindness for whom?" said Carlton. + +"Kindness for celibacy." + +There was a pause, and Carlton's face somewhat changed. + +"Oh, my dear good fellow," he said kindly, "so you are one of them; but +it will go off." + +"Perhaps it will," said Charles: "oh, I am laying no stress upon it. It +was Sheffield who made me mention it." + +A real difference of mind and view had evidently been struck upon by two +friends, very congenial and very fond of each other. There was a pause +for a few seconds. + +"You are so sensible a fellow, Reding," said Carlton, "it surprises me +that you should take up this notion." + +"It's no new notion taken up," answered Charles; "you will smile, but I +had it when a boy at school, and I have ever since fancied that I should +never marry. Not that the feeling has never intermitted, but it is the +habit of my mind. My general thoughts run in that one way, that I shall +never marry. If I did, I should dread Thalaba's punishment." + +Carlton put his hand on Reding's shoulder, and gently shook him to and +fro; "Well, it surprises me," he said; then, after a pause, "I have been +accustomed to think both celibacy and marriage good in their way. In the +Church of Rome great good, I see, comes of celibacy; but depend on it, +my dear Reding, you are making a great blunder if you are for +introducing celibacy into the Anglican Church." + +"There's nothing against it in Prayer Book or Articles," said Charles. + +"Perhaps not; but the whole genius, structure, working of our Church +goes the other way. For instance, we have no monasteries to relieve the +poor; and if we had, I suspect, as things are, a parson's wife would, in +practical substantial usefulness, be infinitely superior to all the +monks that were ever shaven. I declare, I think the Bishop of Ipswich is +almost justified in giving out that none but married men have a chance +of preferment from him; nay, the Bishop of Abingdon, who makes a rule of +bestowing his best livings as marriage portions to the most virtuous +young ladies in his diocese." Carlton spoke with more energy than was +usual with him. + +Charles answered, that he was not looking to the expediency or +feasibility of the thing, but at what seemed to him best in itself, and +what he could not help admiring. "I said nothing about the celibacy of +clergy," he observed, "but of celibacy generally." + +"Celibacy has no place in our idea or our system of religion, depend on +it," said Carlton. "It is nothing to the purpose, whether there is +anything in the Articles against it; it is not a question about formal +enactments, but whether the genius of Anglicanism is not utterly at +variance with it. The experience of three hundred years is surely +abundant for our purpose; if we don't know what our religion is in that +time, what time will be long enough? there are forms of religion which +have not lasted so long from first to last. Now enumerate the cases of +celibacy for celibacy's sake in that period, and what will be the sum +total of them? Some instances there are; but even Hammond, who died +unmarried, was going to marry, when his mother wished it. On the other +hand, if you look out for types of our Church can you find truer than +the married excellence of Hooker the profound, Taylor the devotional, +and Bull the polemical? The very first reformed primate is married; in +Pole and Parker, the two systems, Roman and Anglican, come into strong +contrast." + +"Well, it seems to me as much a yoke of bondage," said Charles, "to +compel marriage as to compel celibacy, and that is what you are really +driving at. You are telling me that any one is a black sheep who does +not marry." + +"Not a very practical difficulty to you at this moment," said Carlton; +"no one is asking you to go about on Coelebs' mission just now, with +Aristotle in hand and the class-list in view." + +"Well, excuse me," said Charles, "if I have said anything very foolish; +you don't suppose I argue on such subjects with others." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +They had by this time strolled as far as Carlton's lodgings, where the +books happened to be on which Charles was at that time more immediately +employed; and they took two or three turns under some fine beeches which +stood in front of the house before entering it. + +"Tell me, Reding," said Carlton, "for really I don't understand, what +are your reasons for admiring what, in truth, is simply an unnatural +state." + +"Don't let us talk more, my dear Carlton," answered Reding; "I shall go +on making a fool of myself. Let well alone, or bad alone, pray do." + +It was evident that there was some strong feeling irritating him +inwardly; the manner and words were too serious for the occasion. +Carlton, too, felt strongly upon what seemed at first sight a very +secondary question, or he would have let it alone, as Charles asked him. + +"No; as we are on the subject, let me get at your view," said he. "It +was said in the beginning, 'Increase and multiply;' therefore celibacy +is unnatural." + +"Supernatural," said Charles, smiling. + +"Is not that a word without an idea?" asked Carlton. "We are taught by +Butler that there is an analogy between nature and grace; else you might +parallel paganism to nature, and where paganism is contrary to nature, +say that it is supernatural. The Wesleyan convulsions are preternatural; +why not supernatural?" + +"I really think that our divines, or at least some of them, are on my +side here," said Charles--"Jeremy Taylor, I believe." + +"You have not told me what you mean by supernatural," said Carlton; "I +want to get at what _you_ think, you know." + +"It seems to me," said Charles, "that Christianity, being the perfection +of nature, is both like it and unlike it;--like it, where it is the same +or as much as nature; unlike it, where it is as much and more. I mean by +supernatural the perfection of nature." + +"Give me an instance," said Carlton. + +"Why, consider, Carlton; our Lord says, 'Ye have heard that it has been +said of old time,--but _I_ say unto you;' that contrast denotes the more +perfect way, or the gospel ... He came not to destroy, but to fulfil the +law ... I can't recollect of a sudden; ... oh, for instance, _this_ is a +case in point; He abolished a permission which had been given to the +Jews because of the hardness of their hearts." + +"Not quite in point," said Carlton, "for the Jews, in their divorces, +had fallen _below_ nature. 'Let no man put asunder,' was the rule in +Paradise." + +"Still, surely the idea of an Apostle, unmarried, pure, in fast and +nakedness, and at length a martyr, is a higher idea than that of one of +the old Israelites sitting under his vine and fig-tree, full of temporal +goods, and surrounded by sons and grandsons. I am not derogating from +Gideon or Caleb; I am adding to St. Paul." + +"St. Paul's is a very particular case," said Carlton. + +"But he himself lays down the general maxim, that it is 'good' for a man +to continue as he was." + +"There we come to a question of criticism, what 'good' means: I may +think it means 'expedient,' and what he says about the 'present +distress' confirms it." + +"Well, I won't go to criticism," said Charles; "take the text, 'in sin +hath my mother conceived me.' Do not these words show that, over and +above the doctrine of original sin, there is (to say the least) great +risk of marriage leading to sin in married people?" + +"My dear Reding," said Carlton, astonished, "you are running into +Gnosticism." + +"Not knowingly or willingly," answered Charles; "but understand what I +mean. It's not a subject I can talk about; but it seems to me, without +of course saying that married persons must sin (which would be +Gnosticism), that there is a danger of sin. But don't let me say more on +this point." + +"Well," said Carlton, after thinking awhile, "_I_ have been accustomed +to consider Christianity as the perfection of man as a whole, body, +soul, and spirit. Don't misunderstand me. Pantheists say body and +intellect, leaving out the moral principle; but I say spirit as well as +mind. Spirit, or the principle of religious faith and obedience, should +be the master principle, the _hegemonicon_. To this both intellect and +body are subservient; but as this supremacy does not imply the +ill-usage, the bondage of the intellect, neither does it of the body; +both should be well treated." + +"Well, I think, on the contrary, it does imply in one sense the bondage +of intellect and body too. What is faith but the submission of the +intellect? and as 'every high thought is brought into captivity,' so are +we expressly told to bring the body into subjection too. They are both +well treated, when they are treated so as to be made fit instruments of +the sovereign principle." + +"That is what I call unnatural," said Carlton. + +"And it is what I mean by supernatural," answered Reding, getting a +little too earnest. + +"How is it supernatural, or adding to nature, to destroy a part of it?" +asked Carlton. + +Charles was puzzled. It was a way, he said, _towards_ perfection; but he +thought that perfection came after death, not here. Our nature could not +be perfect with a corruptible body; the body was treated now as a body +of death. + +"Well, Reding," answered Carlton, "you make Christianity a very +different religion from what our Church considers it, I really think;" +and he paused awhile. + +"Look here," he proceeded, "how can we rejoice in Christ, as having been +redeemed by Him, if we are in this sort of gloomy penitential state? How +much is said in St. Paul about peace, thanksgiving, assurance, comfort, +and the like! Old things are passed away; the Jewish law is destroyed; +pardon and peace are come; _that_ is the Gospel." + +"Don't you think, then," said Charles, "that we should grieve for the +sins into which we are daily betrayed, and for the more serious offences +which from time to time we may have committed?" + +"Certainly; we do so in Morning and Evening Prayer, and in the Communion +Service." + +"Well, but supposing a youth, as is so often the case, has neglected +religion altogether, and has a whole load of sins, and very heinous +ones, all upon him,--do you think that, when he turns over a new leaf, +and comes to Communion, he is, on saying the Confession (saying it with +that contrition with which such persons ought to say it), pardoned at +once, and has nothing more to fear about his past sins?" + +"I should say, 'Yes,'" answered Carlton. + +"Really," said Charles thoughtfully. + +"Of course," said Carlton, "I suppose him truly sorry or penitent: +whether he is so or not his future life will show." + +"Well, somehow, I cannot master this idea," said Charles; "I think most +serious persons, even for a little sin, would go on fidgeting +themselves, and would not suppose they gained pardon directly they asked +for it." + +"Certainly," answered Carlton; "but God pardons those who do not pardon +themselves." + +"That is," said Charles, "who _don't_ at once feel peace, assurance, and +comfort; who _don't_ feel the perfect joy of the Gospel." + +"Such persons grieve, but rejoice too," said Carlton. + +"But tell me, Carlton," said Reding; "is, or is not, their not forgiving +themselves, their sorrow and trouble, pleasing to God?" + +"Surely." + +"Thus a certain self-infliction for sin committed is pleasing to Him; +and, if so, how does it matter whether it is inflicted on mind or body?" + +"It is not properly a self-infliction," answered Carlton; +"self-infliction implies intention; grief at sin is something +spontaneous. When you afflict yourself on purpose, then at once you pass +from pure Christianity." + +"Well," said Charles, "I certainly fancied that fasting, abstinence, +labours, celibacy, might be taken as a make-up for sin. It is not a very +far-fetched idea. You recollect Dr. Johnson's standing in the rain in +the market-place at Lichfield when a man, as a penance for some +disobedience to his father when a boy?" + +"But, my dear Reding," said Carlton, "let me bring you back to what you +said originally, and to my answer to you, which what you now say only +makes more apposite. You began by saying that celibacy was a perfection +of nature, now you make it a penance; first it is good and glorious, +next it is a medicine and punishment." + +"Perhaps our highest perfection here is penance," said Charles; "but I +don't know; I don't profess to have clear ideas upon the subject. I have +talked more than I like. Let us at length give over." + +They did, in consequence, pass to other subjects connected with +Charles's reading; then they entered the house, and set to upon +Polybius; but it could not be denied that for the rest of the day +Carlton's manner was not quite his own, as if something had annoyed him. +Next morning he was as usual. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +It is impossible to stop the growth of the mind. Here was Charles with +his thoughts turned away from religious controversy for two years, yet +with his religious views progressing, unknown to himself, the whole +time. It could not have been otherwise, if he was to live a religious +life at all. If he was to worship and obey his Creator, intellectual +acts, conclusions, and judgments, must accompany that worship and +obedience. He might not realize his own belief till questions had been +put to him; but then a single discussion with a friend, such as the +above with Carlton, would bring out what he really did hold to his own +apprehension--would ascertain for him the limits of each opinion as he +held it, and the inter-relations of opinion with opinion. He had not yet +given names to these opinions, much less had they taken a theological +form; nor could they, under his circumstances, be expressed in +theological language; but here he was, a young man of twenty-two, +professing in an hour's conversation with a friend, what really were the +Catholic doctrines and usages of penance, purgatory, councils of +perfection, mortification of self, and clerical celibacy. No wonder that +all this annoyed Carlton, though he no more than Charles perceived that +all this Catholicism did in fact lie hid under his professions; but he +felt, in what Reding put out, the presence of something, as he expressed +it, "very unlike the Church of England;" something new and unpleasant to +him, and withal something which had a body in it, which had a momentum, +which could not be passed over as a vague, sudden sound or transitory +cloud, but which had much behind it, which made itself felt, which +struck heavily. + +And here we see what is meant when a person says that the Catholic +system comes home to his mind, fulfils his ideas of religion, satisfies +his sympathies, and the like; and thereupon becomes a Catholic. Such a +person is often said to go by private judgment, to be choosing his +religion by his own standard of what a religion ought to be. Now it need +not be denied that those who are external to the Church must begin with +private judgment; they use it in order ultimately to supersede it; as a +man out of doors uses a lamp in a dark night, and puts it out when he +gets home. What would be thought of his bringing it into his +drawing-room? what would the goodly company there assembled before a +genial hearth and under glittering chandeliers, the bright ladies and +the well-dressed gentlemen, say to him if he came in with a great-coat +on his back, a hat on his head, an umbrella under his arm, and a large +stable-lantern in his hand? Yet what would be thought, on the other +hand, if he precipitated himself into the inhospitable night and the war +of the elements in his ball-dress? "When the king came in to see the +guests, he saw a man who had not on a wedding-garment;" he saw a man who +determined to live in the Church as he had lived out of it, who would +not use his privileges, who would not exchange reason for faith, who +would not accommodate his thoughts and doings to the glorious scene +which surrounded him, who was groping for the hidden treasure and +digging for the pearl of price in the high, lustrous, all-jewelled +Temple of the Lord of Hosts; who shut his eyes and speculated, when he +might open them and see. There is no absurdity, then, or inconsistency +in a person first using his private judgment and then denouncing its +use. Circumstances change duties. + +But still, after all, the person in question does not, strictly +speaking, judge of the external system presented to him by his private +ideas, but he brings in the dicta of that system to confirm and to +justify certain private judgments and personal feelings and habits +already existing. Reding, for instance, felt a difficulty in determining +how and when the sins of a Christian are forgiven; he had a great notion +that celibacy was better than married life. He was not the first person +in the Church of England who had had such thoughts; to numbers, +doubtless, before him they had occurred; but these numbers had looked +abroad, and seen nothing around them to justify what they felt, and +their feelings had, in consequence, either festered within them, or +withered away. But when a man, thus constituted within, falls under the +shadow of Catholicism without, then the mighty Creed at once produces an +influence upon him. He see that it justifies his thoughts, explains his +feelings; he understands that it numbers, corrects, harmonizes, +completes them; and he is led to ask what is the authority of this +foreign teaching; and then, when he finds it is what was once received +in England from north to south, in England from the very time that +Christianity was introduced here; that, as far as historical records go, +Christianity and Catholicism are synonymous; that it is still the faith +of the largest section of the Christian world; and that the faith of his +own country is held nowhere but within her own limits and those of her +own colonies; nay, further, that it is very difficult to say what faith +she has, or that she has any,--then he submits himself to the Catholic +Church, not by a process of criticism, but as a pupil to a teacher. + +In saying this, of course it is not denied, on the one hand, that there +may be persons who come to the Catholic Church on imperfect motives, or +in a wrong way; who choose it by criticism, and who, unsubdued by its +majesty and its grace, go on criticizing when they are in it; and who, +if they persist and do not learn humility, may criticize themselves out +of it again. Nor is it denied, on the other hand, that some who are not +Catholics may possibly choose (for instance) Methodism, in the above +moral way, viz. because it confirms and justifies the inward feeling of +their hearts. This is certainly possible in idea, though what there is +venerable, awful, superhuman, in the Wesleyan Conference to persuade one +to take it as a prophet, is a perplexing problem; yet, after all, the +matter of fact we conceive to lie the other way, viz. that Wesleyans +and other sectaries put themselves above their system, not below it; and +though they may in bodily position "sit under" their preacher, yet in +the position of their souls and spirits, minds and judgments, they are +exalted high above him. + +But to return to the subject of our narrative. What a mystery is the +soul of man! Here was Charles, busy with Aristotle and Euripides, +Thucydides and Lucretius, yet all the while growing towards the Church, +"to the measure of the age of the fulness of Christ." His mother had +said to him that he could not escape his destiny; it was true, though it +was to be fulfilled in a way which she, affectionate heart, could not +compass, did not dream of. He could not escape the destiny of being one +of the elect of God; he could not escape that destiny which the grace of +his Redeemer had stamped on his soul in baptism, which his good angel +had seen written there, and had done his zealous part to keep inviolate +and bright, which his own co-operation with the influences of Heaven had +confirmed and secured. He could not escape the destiny, in due time, in +God's time--though it might be long, though angels might be anxious, +though the Church might plead as if defrauded of her promised increase +of a stranger, yet a son; yet come it must, it was written in Heaven, +and the slow wheels of time each hour brought it nearer--he could not +ultimately escape his destiny of becoming a Catholic. And even before +that blessed hour, as an opening flower scatters sweets, so the strange +unknown odour, pleasing to some, odious to others, went abroad from him +upon the winds, and made them marvel what could be near them, and make +them look curiously and anxiously at him, while he was unconscious of +his own condition. Let us be patient with him, as his Maker is patient, +and bear that he should do a work slowly which he will do well. + +Alas! while Charles had been growing in one direction, Sheffield had +been growing in another; and what that growth had been will appear from +a conversation which took place between the two friends, and which shall +be related in the following chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Carlton had opened the small church he was serving for Saints'-day +services during the Long Vacation; and not being in the way to have any +congregation, and the church at Horsley being closed except on Sundays, +he had asked his two pupils to help him in this matter, by walking over +with him on St. Matthew's day, which, as the season was fine, and the +walk far from a dull one, they were very glad to do. When church was +over Carlton had to attend a sick call which lay still farther from +Horsley, and the two young men walked back together. + +"I did not know that Carlton was so much of a party man," said +Sheffield; "did not his reading the Athanasian Creed strike you?" + +"That's no mark of party, surely," answered Charles. + +"To read it on days like these, I think, _is_ a mark of party; it's +going out of the way." + +Charles did not see how obeying in so plain a matter the clear direction +of the Prayer Book could be a party act. + +"Direction!" said Sheffield, "as if the question were not, is that +direction now binding? the sense, the understanding of the Church of +this day determines its obligation." + +"The _prima facie_ view of the matter," said Charles, "is, that they who +do but follow what the Prayer Book enjoins are of all people farthest +from being a party." + +"Not at all," said Sheffield; "rigid adherence to old customs surely may +be the badge of a party. Now consider; ten years ago, before the study +of Church-history was revived, neither Arianism nor Athanasianism were +thought of at all, or, if thought of, they were considered as questions +of words, at least as held by most minds--one as good as the other." + +"I should say so, too, in one sense," said Charles, "that is, I should +hope that numbers of persons, for instance, the unlearned, who were in +Arian communities spoke Arian language, and yet did not mean it. I think +I have heard that some ancient missionary of the Goths or Huns was an +Arian." + +"Well, I will speak more precisely," said Sheffield: "an Oxford man, +some ten years since, was going to publish a history of the Nicene +Council, and the bookseller proposed to him to prefix an engraving of +St. Athanasius, which he had found in some old volume. He was strongly +dissuaded from doing so by a brother clergyman, not from any feeling of +his own, but because 'Athanasius was a very unpopular name among us.'" + +"One swallow does not make a spring," said Charles. + +"This clergyman," continued Sheffield, "was a friend of the most +High-Church writers of the day." + +"Of course," said Reding, "there has always been a heterodox school in +our Church--I know that well enough--but it never has been powerful. +Your lax friend was one of them." + +"I believe not, indeed," answered Sheffield; "he lived out of +controversy, was a literary, accomplished person, and a man of piety to +boot. He did not express any feeling of his own; he did but witness to a +fact, that the name of Athanasius was unpopular." + +"So little was known about history," said Charles, "this is not +surprising. St. Athanasius, you know, did not write the Creed called +after him. It is possible to think him intemperate, without thinking the +Creed wrong." + +"Well, then, again; there's Beatson, Divinity Professor; no one will +call him in any sense a party man; he was put in by the Tories, and +never has committed himself to any liberal theories in theology. Now, a +man who attended his private lectures assures me that he told the men, +'D'ye see,' said he, 'I take it, that the old Church-of-England mode of +handling the Creed went out with Bull. After Locke wrote, the old +orthodox phraseology came into disrepute.'" + +"Well, perhaps he meant," said Charles, "that learning died away, which +was the case. The old theological language is plainly a learned +language; when fathers and schoolmen were not read, of course it would +be in abeyance; when they were read again, it has revived." + +"No, no," answered Sheffield, "he said much more on another occasion. +Speaking of Creeds, and the like, 'I hold,' he said, 'that the majority +of the educated laity of our Church are Sabellians.'" + +Charles was silent, and hardly knew what reply to make. Sheffield went +on: "I was present some years ago, when I was quite a boy, when a sort +of tutor of mine was talking to one of the most learned and orthodox +divines of the day, a man whose name has never been associated with +party, and the near relation and connexion of high dignitaries, about a +plan of his own for writing a history of the Councils. This good and +able man listened with politeness, applauded the project; then added, in +a laughing way, 'You know you have chosen just the dullest subject in +Church-history. Now the Councils begin with the Nicene Creed, and +embrace nearly all doctrinal subjects whatever.'" + +"My dear Sheffield," said Charles, "you have fallen in with a particular +set or party of men yourself; very respectable, good men, I don't doubt, +but no fair specimens of the whole Church." + +"I don't bring them as authorities," answered Sheffield, "but as +witnesses." + +"Still," said Charles, "I know perfectly well, that there was a +controversy at the end of the last century between Bishop Horsley and +others, in which he brought out distinctly one part at least of the +Athanasian doctrine." + +"His controversy was not a defence of the Athanasian Creed, I know +well," said Sheffield; "for the subject came into Upton's +Article-lecture; it was with Priestley; but, whatever it was, divines +would only think it all very fine, just as his 'Sermons on Prophecy.' It +is another question whether they would recognize the worth either of the +one or of the other. They receive the scholastic terms about the +Trinity just as they receive the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist. +When Horsley says the latter, or something of the kind, good old +clergymen say, 'Certainly, certainly, oh yes, it's the old +Church-of-England doctrine,' thinking it right, indeed, to be +maintained, but not caring themselves to maintain it, or at most +professing it just when mentioned, but not really thinking about it from +one year's end to the other. And so with regard to the doctrine of the +Trinity, they say, 'the great Horsley,' 'the powerful Horsley;' they +don't indeed dispute his doctrine, but they don't care about it; they +look on him as a doughty champion, armed _cap-a-pie_, who has put down +dissent, who has cut off the head of some impudent non-protectionist, or +insane chartist, or spouter in a vestry, who, under cover of theology, +had run a tilt against tithes and church-rates." + +"I can't think so badly of our present divines," said Charles; "I know +that in this very place there are various orthodox writers, whom no one +would call party men." + +"Stop," said Sheffield, "understand me, I was not speaking _against_ +them. I was but saying that these anti-Athanasian views were not +unfrequent. I have been in the way of hearing a good deal on the subject +at my private tutor's, and have kept my eyes about me since I have been +here. The Bishop of Derby was a friend of Sheen's, my private tutor, and +got his promotion when I was with the latter; and Sheen told me that he +wrote to him on that occasion, 'What shall I read? I don't know anything +of theology.' I rather think he was recommended, or proposed to read +Scott's Bible." + +"It's easy to bring instances," said Charles, "when you have all your +own way; what you say is evidently all an _ex-parte_ statement." + +"Take again Shipton, who died lately," continued Sheffield; "what a high +position he held in the Church; yet it is perfectly well known that he +thought it a mistake to use the word 'Person' in the doctrine of the +Trinity. What makes this stranger is, that he was so very severe on +clergymen (Tractarians, for instance) who evade the sense of the +Articles. Now he was a singularly honest, straightforward man; he +despised money; he cared nothing for public opinion; yet he was a +Sabellian. Would he have eaten the bread of the Church, as it is called, +for a day, unless he had felt that his opinions were not inconsistent +with his profession as Dean of Bath, and Prebendary of Dorchester? Is it +not plain that he considered the practice of the Church to have +modified, to have re-interpreted its documents?" + +"Why," said Charles, "the practice of the Church cannot make black +white; or, if a sentence means yes, make it mean no. I won't deny that +words are often vague and uncertain in their sense, and frequently need +a comment, so that the teaching of the day has great influence in +determining their sense; but the question is, whether the +counter-teaching of every dean, every prebendary, every clergyman, every +bishop in the whole Church, could make the Athanasian Creed Sabellian; I +think not." + +"Certainly not," answered Sheffield; "but the clergymen I speak of +simply say that they are not bound to the details of the Creed, only to +the great outline that there is _a_ Trinity." + +"Great outline!" said Charles, "great stuff! an Unitarian would not deny +that. He, of course, believes in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; though he +thinks the Son a creature, and the Spirit an influence." + +"Well, I don't deny," said Sheffield, "that if Dean Shipton was a sound +member of the Church, Dr. Priestley might have been also. But my doubt +is, whether, if the Tractarian school had not risen, Priestley might not +have been, had he lived to this time, I will not say a positively sound +member, but sound enough for preferment." + +"_If_ the Tractarian school had not risen! that is but saying if our +Church was other than it is. What is that school but a birth, an +offspring of the Church? and if the Church had not given birth to one +party of men for its defence, it would have given birth to another." + +"No, no," said Sheffield, "I assure you the old school of doctrine was +all but run out when they began; and I declare I wish they had let +things alone. There was the doctrine of the Apostolical Succession; a +few good old men were its sole remaining professors in the Church; and a +great ecclesiastical personage, on one occasion, quite scoffed at their +persisting to hold it. He maintained the doctrine went out with the +non-jurors. 'You are so few,' he said, 'that we can count you.'" + +Charles was not pleased with the subject, on various accounts. He did +not like what seemed to him an attack of Sheffield's upon the Church of +England; and, besides, he began to feel uncomfortable misgivings and +doubts whether that attack was not well founded, to which he did not +like to be exposed. Accordingly he kept silence, and, after a short +interval, attempted to change the subject; but Sheffield's hand was in, +and he would not be balked; so he presently began again. "I have been +speaking," he said, "of the liberal section of our Church. There are +four parties in the Church. Of these the old Tory, or country party, +which is out-and-out the largest, has no opinion at all, but merely +takes up the theology or no-theology of the day, and cannot properly be +said to 'hold' what the Creed calls 'the Catholic faith.' It does not +deny it; it may not knowingly disbelieve it; but it gives no signs of +actually holding it, beyond the fact that it treats it with respect. I +will venture to say, that not a country parson of them all, from year's +end to year's end, makes once a year what Catholics call 'an act of +faith' in that special and very distinctive mystery contained in the +clauses of the Athanasian Creed." + +Then, seeing Charles looked rather hurt, he added, "I am not speaking of +any particular clergyman here or there, but of the great majority of +them. After the Tory party comes the Liberal; which also dislikes the +Athanasian Creed, as I have said. Thirdly, as to the Evangelical; I know +you have one of the Nos. of the 'Tracts for the Times' about objective +faith. Now that tract seems to prove that the Evangelical party is +implicitly Sabellian, and is tending to avow that belief. This too has +been already the actual course of Evangelical doctrine both on the +Continent and in America. The Protestants of Geneva, Holland, Ulster, +and Boston have all, I believe, become Unitarians, or the like. Dr. Adam +Clarke too, the celebrated Wesleyan, held the distinguishing Sabellian +tenet, as Doddridge is said to have done before him. All this +considered, I do think I have made out a good case for my original +assertion, that at this time of day it is a party thing to go out of the +way to read the Athanasian Creed." + +"I don't agree with you at all," said Charles; "you say a great deal +more than you have a warrant to do, and draw sweeping conclusions from +slender premisses. This, at least, is what it seems to me. I wish too +you would not so speak of 'making out a case.' It is as if these things +were mere topics for disputation. And I don't like your taking the wrong +side; you are rather fond of doing so." + +"Reding," answered Sheffield, "I speak what I think, and ever will do +so; I will be no party man. I don't attempt, like Vincent, to unite +opposites. He is of all parties, I am of none. I think I see pretty well +the hollowness of all." + +"O my dear Sheffield," cried Charles, in distress, "think what you are +saying; you don't mean what you say. You are speaking as if you thought +that belief in the Athanasian Creed was a mere party opinion." + +Sheffield first was silent; then he said, "Well, I beg your pardon, if +I have said anything to annoy you, or have expressed myself +intemperately. But surely one has no need to believe what so many people +either disbelieve or disregard." + +The subject then dropped; and presently Carlton overtook them on the +farmer's pony, which he had borrowed. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Reding had for near two years put aside his doubts about the Articles; +but it was like putting off the payment of a bill--a respite, not a +deliverance. The two conversations which we have been recording, +bringing him to issue on most important subjects first with one, then +with another, of two intimate friends, who were bound by the Articles as +well as he, uncomfortably reminded him of his debt to the University and +Church; and the nearer approach of his examination and degree inflicted +on him the thought that the time was coming when he must be prepared to +discharge it. + +One day, when he was strolling out with Carlton, toward the end of the +Vacation, he had been led to speak of the number of religious opinions +and parties in Oxford, which had so many bad effects, making so many +talk, so many criticise, and not a few perhaps doubt about truth +altogether. Then he said that, evil as it was in a place of education, +yet he feared it was unavoidable, if Carlton's doctrine about parties +were correct; for if there was a place where differences of religious +opinions would show themselves, it would be in a university. + +"I am far from denying it," said Carlton; "but all systems have their +defects; no polity, no theology, no ritual is perfect. One only came +directly and simply from Heaven, the Jewish; and even that was removed +because of its unprofitableness. This is no derogation from the +perfection of Divine Revelation, for it arises from the subject-matter +on and through which it operates." There was a pause; then Carlton went +on: "It is the fault of most young thinkers to be impatient, if they do +not find perfection in everything; they are 'new brooms.'" Another +pause; he went on again: "What form of religion is _less_ objectionable +than ours? You _see_ the inconveniences of your own system, for you +experience them; you have not felt, and cannot know, those of others." + +Charles was still silent, and went on plucking and chewing leaves from +the shrubs and bushes through which their path winded. At length he +said, "_I_ should not like to say it to any one but you, Carlton, but, +do you know, I was very uncomfortable about the Articles, going on for +two years since; I really could not understand them, and their history +makes matters worse. I put the subject from me altogether; but now that +my examination and degree are coming on, I must take it up again." + +"You must have been put into the Article-lecture early," said Carlton. + +"Well, perhaps I was not up to the subject," answered Charles. + +"I didn't mean that," said Carlton; "but as to the thing itself, my dear +fellow, it happens every day, and especially to thoughtful people like +yourself. It should not annoy you." + +"But my fidget is," said Charles, "lest my difficulties should return, +and I should not be able to remove them." + +"You should take all these things calmly," said Carlton; "all things, as +I have said, have their difficulties. If you wait till everything is as +it should be or might be conceivably, you will do nothing, and will lose +life. The moral and social world is not an open country; it is already +marked and mapped out; it has its roads. You can't go across country; if +you attempt a steeple-chase, you will break your neck for your pains. +Forms of religion are facts; they have each their history. They existed +before you were born, and will survive you. You must choose, you cannot +make." + +"I know," said Reding, "I can't make a religion, nor can I perhaps find +one better than my own. I don't want to do so; but this is not my +difficulty. Take your own image. I am jogging along my own old road, and +lo, a high turnpike, fast locked; and my poor pony can't clear it. I +don't complain; but there's the fact, or at least may be." + +"The pony must," answered Carlton; "or if not, there must be some way +about; else what is the good of a road? In religion all roads have their +obstacles; one has a strong gate across it, another goes through a bog. +Is no one to go on? Is religion to be at a deadlock? Is Christianity to +die out? Where else will you go? Not surely to Methodism, or +Plymouth-brotherism. As to the Romish Church, I suspect it has more +difficulties than we have. You _must_ sacrifice your private judgment." + +"All this is very good," answered Charles; "but what is very expedient +still may be very impossible. The finest words about the necessity of +getting home before nightfall will not enable my poor little pony to +take the gate." + +"Certainly not," said Carlton; "but if you had a command from a +benevolent Prince, your own Sovereign and Benefactor, to go along the +road steadily till evening, and he would meet you at the end of your +journey, you would be quite sure that he who had appointed the end had +also assigned the means. And, in the difficulty in question, you ought +to look out for some mode of opening the gate, or some gap in the hedge, +or some parallel cut, some way or other, which would enable you to turn +the difficulty." + +Charles said that somehow he did not like this mode of arguing; it +seemed dangerous; he did not see whither it went, where it ended. +Presently he said, abruptly, "Why do you think there are more +difficulties in the Church of Rome?" + +"Clearly there are," answered Carlton; "if the Articles are a crust, is +not Pope Pius's Creed a bone?" + +"I don't know Pope Pius's Creed," said Charles; "I know very little +about the state of the case, certainly. What does it say?" + +"Oh, it includes transubstantiation, purgatory, saint-worship, and the +rest," said Carlton; "I suppose you could not quite subscribe these?" + +"It depends," answered Charles slowly, "on this--on what authority they +came to me." He stopped, and then went on: "Of course I could, if they +came to me on the same authority as the doctrine of the Blessed Trinity +comes. Now, the Articles come on no authority; they are the views of +persons in the 16th century; and, again, it is not clear how far they +are, or are not, modified by the unauthoritative views of the 19th. I am +obliged, then, to exercise my own judgment; and I candidly declare to +you, that my judgment is unequal to so great a task. At least, this is +what troubles me, whenever the subject rises in my mind; for I have put +it from me." + +"Well, then," said Carlton, "take them on _faith_." + +"You mean, I suppose," said Charles, "that I must consider our Church +_infallible_." + +Carlton felt the difficulty; he answered, "No, but you must act _as if_ +it were infallible, from a sense of duty." + +Charles smiled; then he looked grave; he stood still, and his eyes fell. +"If I _am_ to make a Church infallible," he said, "if I _must_ give up +private judgment, if I _must_ act on faith, there _is_ a Church which +has a greater claim on us all than the Church of England." + +"My dear Reding," said Carlton, with some emotion, "where did you get +these notions?" + +"I don't know," answered Charles; "somebody has said that they were in +the air. I have talked to no one, except one or two arguments I had with +different persons in my first year. I have driven the subject from me; +but when I once begin, you see it will out." + +They walked on awhile in silence. "Do you really mean to say," asked +Carlton at length, "that it is so difficult to understand and receive +the Articles? To me they are quite clear enough, and speak the language +of common sense." + +"Well, they seem to me," said Reding, "sometimes inconsistent with +themselves, sometimes with the Prayer Book; so that I am suspicious of +them; I don't know _what_ I am signing when I sign, yet I ought to sign +_ex-animo_. A blind submission I could make; I cannot make a blind +declaration." + +"Give me some instances," said Carlton. + +"For example," said Charles, "they distinctly receive the Lutheran +doctrine of justification by faith only, which the Prayer Book virtually +opposes in every one of its Offices. They refer to the Homilies as +authority, yet the Homilies speak of the books of the Apocrypha as +inspired, which the Articles implicitly deny. The Articles about +Ordination are in their spirit contrary to the Ordination Service. One +Article on the Sacraments speaks the doctrine of Melancthon, another +that of Calvin. One Article speaks of the Church's authority in +controversies of faith, yet another makes Scripture the ultimate appeal. +These are what occur to me at the moment." + +"Surely, many of these are but verbal difficulties, at the very first +glance," said Carlton, "and all may be surmounted with a little care." + +"On the other hand, it has struck me," continued Charles, "that the +Church of Rome is undeniably consistent in her formularies; this is the +very charge some of our writers make upon her, that she is so +systematic. It may be a hard, iron system, but it is consistent." + +Carlton did not wish to interrupt him, thinking it best to hear his +whole difficulty; so Charles proceeded: "When a system is consistent, at +least it does not condemn itself. Consistency is not truth, but truth is +consistency. Now, I am not a fit judge whether or not a certain system +is true, but I may be quite a judge whether it is consistent with +itself. When an oracle equivocates it carries with it its own +condemnation. I almost think there is something in Scripture on this +subject, comparing in this respect the pagan and the inspired +prophecies. And this has struck me, too, that St. Paul gives this very +account of a heretic, that he is 'condemned of himself,' bearing his own +condemnation on his face. Moreover, I was once in the company of +Freeborn (I don't know if you are acquainted with him) and others of the +Evangelical party, and they showed plainly, if they were to be trusted, +that Luther and Melancthon did not agree together on the prime point of +justification by faith; a circumstance which had not come into the +Article-lecture. Also I have read somewhere, or heard in some sermon, +that the ancient heretics always were inconsistent, never could state +plainly their meaning, much less agree together; and thus, whether they +would or no, could not help giving to the simple a warning of their true +character, as if by their rattle." + +Charles stopped; presently he continued: "This too has struck me; that +either there is no prophet of the truth on earth, or the Church of Rome +is that prophet. That there is a prophet still, or apostle, or +messenger, or teacher, or whatever he is to be called, seems evident by +our believing in a visible Church. Now common sense tells us what a +messenger from God must be; first, he must not contradict himself, as I +have just been saying. Again, a prophet of God can allow of no rival, +but denounces all who make a separate claim, as the prophets do in +Scripture. Now, it is impossible to say whether our Church acknowledges +or not Lutheranism in Germany, Calvinism in Switzerland, the Nestorian +and Monophysite bodies in the East. Nor does it clearly tell us what +view it takes of the Church of Rome. The only place where it recognizes +its existence is in the Homilies, and there it speaks of it as +Antichrist. Nor has the Greek Church any intelligible position in +Anglican doctrine. On the other hand, the Church of Rome has this _prima +facie_ mark of a prophet, that, like a prophet in Scripture, it admits +no rival, and anathematizes all doctrine counter to its own. There's +another thing: a prophet of God is of course at home with his message; +he is not helpless and do-nothing in the midst of errors and in the war +of opinions. He knows what has been given him to declare, how far it +extends; he can act as an umpire; he is equal to emergencies. This again +tells in favour of the Church of Rome. As age after age comes she is +ever on the alert, questions every new comer, sounds the note of alarm, +hews down strange doctrine, claims and locates and perfects what is new +and true. The Church of Rome inspires me with confidence; I feel I can +trust her. It is another thing whether she is true; I am not pretending +now to decide that. But I do not feel the like trust in our own Church. +I love her more than I trust her. She leaves me without faith. Now you +see the state of my mind." He fetched a deep, sharp sigh, as if he had +got a load off him. + +"Well," said Carlton, when he had stopped, "this is all very pretty +theory; whether it holds in matter of fact, is another question. We have +been accustomed hitherto to think Chillingworth right, when he talks of +popes against popes, councils against councils, and so on. Certainly you +will not be allowed by Protestant controversialists to assume this +perfect consistency in Romish doctrine. The truth is, you have read very +little; and you judge of truth, not by facts, but by notions; I mean, +you think it enough if a notion hangs together; though you disavow it, +still, in matter of fact, consistency _is_ truth to you. Whether facts +answer to theories you cannot tell, and you don't inquire. Now I am not +well read in the subject, but I know enough to be sure that Romanists +will have more work to prove their consistency than you anticipate. For +instance, they appeal to the Fathers, yet put the Pope above them; they +maintain the infallibility of the Church, and prove it by Scripture, and +then they prove Scripture by the Church. They think a General Council +infallible, _when_, but not _before_, the Pope has ratified it; +Bellarmine, I think, gives a list of General Councils which have erred. +And I never have been able to make out the Romish doctrine of +Indulgences." + +Charles thought over this; then he said, "Perhaps the case is as you +say, that I ought to know the matter of fact more exactly before +attempting to form a judgment on the subject; but, my dear Carlton, I +protest to you, and you may think with what distress I say it, that if +the Church of Rome is as ambiguous as our own Church, I shall be in the +way to become a sceptic, on the very ground that I shall have no +competent authority to tell me what to believe. The Ethiopian said, 'How +can I know, unless some man do teach me?' and St. Paul says, 'Faith +cometh by hearing.' If no one claims my faith, how can I exercise it? At +least I shall run the risk of becoming a Latitudinarian; for if I go by +Scripture only, certainly there is no creed given us in Scripture." + +"Our business," said Carlton, "is to make the best of things, not the +worst. Do keep this in mind; be on your guard against a strained and +morbid view of things. Be cheerful, be natural, and all will be easy." + +"You are always kind and considerate," said Charles; "but, after all--I +wish I could make you see it--you have not a word to say by way of +meeting my original difficulty of subscription. How am I to leap over +the wall? It's nothing to the purpose that other communions have their +walls also." + +They now neared home, and concluded their walk in silence, each being +fully occupied with the thoughts which the conversation had suggested. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The Vacation passed away silently and happily. Day succeeded day in +quiet routine employments, bringing insensible but sure accessions to +the stock of knowledge and to the intellectual proficiency of both our +students. Historians and orators were read for a last time, and laid +aside; sciences were digested; commentaries were run through; and +analyses and abstracts completed. It was emphatically a silent toil. +While others might be steaming from London to Bombay or the Havannah, +and months in the retrospect might look like years, with Reding and +Sheffield the week had scarcely begun when it was found to be ending; +and when October came, and they saw their Oxford friends again, at first +they thought they had a good deal to say to them, but when they tried, +they found it did but concern minute points of their own reading and +personal matters; and they were reduced to silence with the wish to +speak. + +The season had changed, and reminded them that Horsley was a place for +summer sojourn, not a dwelling. There were heavy raw fogs hanging about +the hills, and storms of wind and rain. The grass no longer afforded +them a seat; and when they betook themselves indoors it was discovered +that the doors and windows did not shut close, and that the chimney +smoked. Then came those fruits, the funeral feast of the year, +mulberries and walnuts; the tasteless, juiceless walnut; the dark +mulberry, juicy but severe, and mouldy withal, as gathered not from the +tree, but from the damp earth. And thus that green spot itself weaned +them from the love of it. Charles looked around him, and rose to depart +as a _conviva satur_. "_Edisti satis, tempus abire_" seemed written upon +all. The swallows had taken leave; the leaves were paling; the light +broke late, and failed soon. The hopes of spring, the peace and calm of +summer, had given place to the sad realities of autumn. He was hurrying +to the world, who had been up on the mount; he had lived without jars, +without distractions, without disappointments; and he was now to take +them as his portion. For he was but a child of Adam; Horsley had been +but a respite; and he had vividly presented to his memory the sad +reverse which came upon him two years before--what a happy summer--what +a forlorn autumn! With these thoughts, he put up his books and papers, +and turned his face towards St. Saviour's. + +Oxford, too, was not quite what it had been to him; the freshness of his +admiration for it was over; he now saw defects where at first all was +excellent and good; the romance of places and persons had passed away. +And there were changes too: of his contemporaries some had already taken +their degrees and left; others were reading in the country; others had +gone off to other Colleges on Fellowships. A host of younger faces had +sprung up in hall and chapel, and he hardly knew their names. Rooms +which formerly had been his familiar lounge were now tenanted by +strangers, who claimed to have that right in them which, to his +imagination, could only attach to those who had possessed them when he +himself came into residence. The College seemed to have deteriorated; +there was a rowing set, which had not been there before, a number of +boys, and a large proportion of snobs. + +But, what was a real trouble to Charles, it got clearer and clearer to +his apprehension that his intimacy with Sheffield was not quite what it +had been. They had, indeed, passed the Vacation together, and saw of +each other more than ever: but their sympathies in each other were not +as strong, they had not the same likings and dislikings; in short, they +had not such congenial minds as they fancied when they were freshmen. +There was not so much heart in their conversations, and they more easily +endured to miss each other's company. They were both reading for +honours--reading hard; but Sheffield's whole heart was in his work, and +religion was but a secondary matter to him. He had no doubts, +difficulties, anxieties, sorrows, which much affected him. It was not +the certainty of faith which made a sunshine to his soul, and dried up +the mists of human weakness; rather, he had no perceptible need within +him of that vision of the Unseen which is the Christian's life. He was +unblemished in his character, exemplary in his conduct; but he was +content with what the perishable world gave him. Charles's +characteristic, perhaps above anything else, was an habitual sense of +the Divine Presence; a sense which, of course, did not insure +uninterrupted conformity of thought and deed to itself, but still there +it was--the pillar of the cloud before him and guiding him. He felt +himself to be God's creature, and responsible to Him--God's possession, +not his own. He had a great wish to succeed in the schools; a thrill +came over him when he thought of it; but ambition was not his life; he +could have reconciled himself in a few minutes to failure. Thus +disposed, the only subjects on which the two friends freely talked +together were connected with their common studies. They read together, +examined each other, used and corrected each other's papers, and solved +each other's difficulties. Perhaps it scarcely came home to Sheffield, +sharp as he was, that there was any flagging of their intimacy. +Religious controversy had been the food of his active intellect when it +was novel; now it had lost its interest, and his books took its place. +But it was far different with Charles; he had felt interest in religious +questions for their own sake; and when he had deprived himself of the +pursuit of them it had been a self-denial. Now, then, when they seemed +forced on him again, Sheffield could not help him, where he most wanted +the assistance of a friend. + +A still more tangible trial was coming on him. The reader has to be told +that there was at that time a system of espionage prosecuted by various +well-meaning men, who thought it would be doing the University a service +to point out such of its junior members as were what is called +"papistically inclined." They did not perceive the danger such a course +involved of disposing young men towards Catholicism, by attaching to +them the bad report of it, and of forcing them farther by inflicting on +them the inconsistencies of their position. Ideas which would have lain +dormant or dwindled away in their minds were thus fixed, defined, +located within them; and the fear of the world's censure no longer +served to deter, when it had been actually incurred. When Charles +attended the tea-party at Freeborn's he was on his trial; he was +introduced not only into a school, but into an inquisition; and since he +did not promise to be a subject for spiritual impression, he was +forthwith a subject for spiritual censure. He became a marked man in the +circles of Capel Hall and St. Mark's. His acquaintance with Willis; the +questions he had asked at the Article-lecture; stray remarks at +wine-parties--were treasured up, and strengthened the case against him. +One time, on coming into his rooms, he found Freeborn, who had entered +to pay him a call, prying into his books. A volume of sermons, of the +school of the day, borrowed of a friend for the sake of illustrating +Aristotle, lay on his table; and in his bookshelves one of the more +philosophical of the "Tracts for the Times" was stuck in between a +Hermann _De Metris_ and a Thucydides. Another day his bedroom door was +open, and No. 2 of the tea-party saw one of Overbeck's sacred prints +pinned up against the wall. + +Facts like these were, in most cases, delated to the Head of the House +to which a young man belonged; who, as a vigilant guardian of the purity +of his undergraduates' Protestantism, received the information with +thankfulness, and perhaps asked the informer to dinner. It cannot be +denied that in some cases this course of action succeeded in frightening +and sobering the parties towards whom it was directed. White was thus +reclaimed to be a devoted son and useful minister of the Church of +England; but it was a kill-or-cure remedy, and not likely to answer with +the more noble or the more able minds. What effect it had upon Charles, +or whether any, must be determined by the sequel; here it will suffice +to relate interviews which took place between him and the Principal and +Vice-Principal of his College in consequence of it. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +When Reding presented himself to the Vice-Principal, the Rev. Joshua +Jennings, to ask for leave to reside in lodgings for the two terms +previous to his examination, he was met with a courteous but decided +refusal. It took him altogether by surprise; he had considered the +request as a mere matter of form. He sat half a minute silent, and then +rose to take his departure. The colour came to his cheek; it was a +repulse inflicted only on idle men who could not be trusted beyond the +eye of the Dean of the College. + +The Vice-Principal seemed to expect him to ask the reason of his +proceeding; as Charles, in his confusion, did not seem likely to do so, +he condescended to open the conversation. It was not meant as any +reflection, he said, on Mr. Reding's moral conduct; he had ever been a +well-conducted young man, and had quite carried out the character with +which he had come from school; but there were duties to be observed +towards the community, and its undergraduate portion must be protected +from the contagion of principles which were too rife at the moment. +Charles was, if possible, still more surprised, and suggested that there +must be some misunderstanding if he had been represented to the +Vice-Principal as connected with any so-called party in the place. "You +don't mean to deny that there _is_ a party, Mr. Reding," answered the +College authority, "by that form of expression?" He was a lean, pale +person, with a large hook-nose and spectacles; and seemed, though a +liberal in creed, to be really a nursling of that early age when +Anabaptists fed the fires of Smithfield. From his years, practised +talent, and position, he was well able to browbeat an unhappy juvenile +who incurred his displeasure; and, though he really was a kind-hearted +man at bottom, he not unfrequently misused his power. Charles did not +know how to answer his question; and on his silence it was repeated. At +length he said that really he was not in a condition to speak against +any one; and if he spoke of a so-called party, it was that he might not +seem disrespectful to some who might be better men than himself. Mr. +Vice was silent, but not from being satisfied. + +"What would _you_ call a party, Mr. Reding?" he said at length; "what +would be your definition of it?" + +Charles paused to think; at last he said: "Persons who band together on +their own authority for the maintenance of views of their own." + +"And will you say that these gentlemen have not views of their own?" +asked Mr. Jennings. + +Charles assented. + +"What is your view of the Thirty-nine Articles?" said the Vice-Principal +abruptly. + +"_My_ view!" thought Charles; "what can he mean? my _view_ of the +Articles! like my opinion of things in general. Does he mean my 'view' +whether they are English or Latin, long or short, good or bad, expedient +or not, Catholic or not, Calvinistic or Erastian?" + +Meanwhile Jennings kept steadily regarding him, and Charles got more and +more confused. "I think," he said, making a desperate snatch at +authoritative words, "I think that the Articles 'contain a godly and +wholesome doctrine, and necessary for these times.'" + +"_That_ is the Second Book of Homilies, Mr. Reding, not the Articles. +Besides, I want your own opinion on the subject." He proceeded, after a +pause: "What is justification?" + +"Justification," ... said Charles, repeating the word, and thinking; +then, in the words of the Article, he went on: "We are accounted +righteous before God, but only for the merit of our Lord Jesus Christ, +by faith, and not by our own works and deservings." + +"Right," said Jennings; "but you have not answered my question. What +_is_ justification?" + +This was very hard, for it was one of Charles's puzzles what +justification was in itself, for the Articles do not define it any more +than faith. He answered to this effect, that the Articles did not define +it. The Vice-Principal looked dissatisfied. + +"Can General Councils err?" + +"Yes," answered Charles. This was right. + +"What do Romanists say about them?" + +"They think they err, too." This was all wrong. + +"No," said Jennings, "they think them infallible." + +Charles was silent; Jennings tried to force his decision upon him. + +At length Charles said that "Only some General Councils were admitted as +infallible by the Romanists, and he believed that Bellarmine gave a list +of General Councils which had erred." + +Another pause, and a gathering cloud on Jennings' brow. + +He returned to his former subject. "In what sense do you understand the +Articles, Mr. Reding?" he asked. That was more than Charles could tell; +he wished very much to know the right sense of them; so he beat about +for the _received_ answer. + +"In the sense of Scripture," he said. This was true, but nugatory. + +"Rather," said Jennings, "you understand Scripture in the sense of the +Articles." + +Charles assented for peace-sake. But his concession availed not; the +Vice-Principal pursued his advantage. + +"They must not interpret each other, Mr. Reding, else you revolve in a +circle. Let me repeat my question. In what sense do you interpret the +Articles?" + +"I wish to take them," Reding answered, "in the general and received +sense of our Church, as all our divines and present Bishops take them." + +The Vice-Principal looked pleased. Charles could not help being candid, +and said in a lower tone, as if words of course, "That is, on faith." + +This put all wrong again. Jennings would not allow this; it was a blind, +Popish reliance; it was very well, when he first came to the University, +before he had read the Articles, to take them on trust; but a young man +who had had the advantages of Mr. Reding, who had been three years at +St. Saviour's College, and had attended the Article-lectures, ought to +hold the received view, not only as being received, but as his own, with +a free intellectual assent. He went on to ask him by what texts he +proved the Protestant doctrine of justification. Charles gave two or +three of the usual passages with such success, that the Vice-Principal +was secretly beginning to relent, when, unhappily, on asking a last +question as a matter of course, he received an answer which confirmed +all his former surmises. + +"What is our Church's doctrine concerning the intercession of Saints?" + +Charles said that he did not recollect that it had expressed any opinion +on the subject. Jennings bade him think again; Charles thought in vain. + +"Well, what is your opinion of it, Mr. Reding?" + +Charles, believing it to be an open point, thought he should be safe in +imitating "our Church's" moderation. "There are different opinions on +the subject," he said: "some persons think they intercede for us, +others, that they do not. It is easy to go into extremes; perhaps better +to avoid such questions altogether; better to go by Scripture; the book +of Revelation speaks of the intercession of Saints, but does not +expressly say that they intercede for us," &c., &c. + +Jennings sat upright in his easy-chair, with indignation mounting into +his forehead. At length his face became like night. "_That_ is your +opinion, Mr. Reding." + +Charles began to be frightened. + +"Please to take up that Prayer Book and turn to the 22nd Article. Now +begin reading it." + +"The Romish doctrine," said Charles,--"the Romish doctrine concerning +purgatory, pardon, worshipping and adoration as well of images as of +relics, and also invocation of Saints"---- + +"Stop there," said the Vice-Principal; "read those words again." + +"And also invocation of Saints." + +"Now, Mr. Reding." + +Charles was puzzled, thought he had made some blunder, could not find +it, and was silent. + +"Well, Mr. Reding?" + +Charles at length said that he thought Mr. Jennings had spoken about +_intercession_. + +"So I did," he made answer. + +"And this," said Charles timidly, "speaks of _invocation_." + +Jennings gave a little start in his arm-chair, and slightly coloured. +"Eh?" he said; "give me the book." He slowly read the Article, and then +cast a cautious eye over the page before and after. There was no help +for it. He began again. + +"And so, Mr. Reding, you actually mean to shelter yourself by that +subtle distinction between invocation and intercession; as if Papists +did not invoke in order to gain the Saints' intercession, and as if the +Saints were not supposed by them to intercede in answer to invocation? +The terms are correlative. Intercession of Saints, instead of being an +extreme only, as you consider, is a Romish abomination. I am ashamed of +you, Mr. Reding; I am pained and hurt that a young man of your promise, +of good ability, and excellent morals, should be guilty of so gross an +evasion of the authoritative documents of our Church, such an outrage +upon common sense, so indecent a violation of the terms on which alone +he was allowed to place his name on the books of this society. I could +not have a clearer proof that your mind has been perverted--I fear I +must use a stronger term, debauched--by the sophistries and jesuistries +which unhappily have found entrance among us. Good morning, Mr. Reding." + +So it was a thing settled: Charles was to be sent home,--an endurable +banishment. + +Before he went down he paid a visit of form to the old Principal--a +worthy man in his generation, who before now had been a good parish +priest, had instructed the ignorant and fed the poor; but now in the end +of his days, falling on evil times, was permitted, for inscrutable +purposes, to give evidence of that evil puritanical leaven which was a +secret element of his religion. He had been kind to Charles hitherto, +which made his altered manner more distressing to him. + +"We had hoped," he said, "Mr. Reding, that so good a young man as you +once were would have gained a place on some foundation, and been settled +here, and been a useful man in his generation, sir; and a column, a +buttress of the Church of England, sir. Well, sir, here are my best +wishes for you, sir. When you come up for your Master's degree, sir--no, +I think it is your Bachelor's--which is it, Mr. Reding, are you yet a +Bachelor? oh, I see your gown." + +Charles said he had not yet been into the schools. + +"Well, sir, when you come up to be examined, I should say--to be +examined--we will hope that in the interval, reflection, and study, and +absence perhaps from dangerous companions, will have brought you to a +soberer state of mind, Mr. Reding." + +Charles was shocked at the language used about him. "Really, sir," he +said, "if you knew me better, you would feel that I am likely neither to +receive nor do harm by remaining here between this and Easter." + +"What! remain here, sir, with all the young men about?" asked Dr. +Bluett, with astonishment, "with all the young men about you, sir?" + +Charles really had not a word to say; he did not know himself in so +novel a position. "I cannot conceive, sir," he said, at last, "why I +should be unfit company for the gentlemen of the College." + +Dr. Bluett's jaw dropped, and his eyes assumed a hollow aspect. "You +will corrupt their minds, sir," he said,--"you will corrupt their +minds." Then he added, in a sepulchral tone, which came from the very +depths of his inside: "You will introduce them, sir, to some subtle +Jesuit--to some subtle Jesuit, Mr. Reding." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Mrs. Reding was by this time settled in the neighbourhood of old friends +in Devonshire; and there Charles spent the winter and early spring with +her and his three sisters, the eldest of whom was two years older than +himself. + +"Come, shut your dull books, Charles," said Caroline, the youngest, a +girl of fourteen; "make way for the tea; I am sure you have read enough. +You sometimes don't speak a word for an hour together; at least, you +might tell us what you are reading about." + +"My dear Carry, you would not be much the wiser if I did," answered +Charles; "it is Greek history." + +"Oh," said Caroline, "I know more than you think; I have read Goldsmith, +and good part of Rollin, besides Pope's Homer." + +"Capital!" said Charles; "well, I am reading about Pelopidas--who was +he?" + +"Pelopidas!" answered Caroline, "I ought to know. Oh, I recollect, he +had an ivory shoulder." + +"Well said, Carry; but I have not yet a distinct idea of him either. Was +he a statue, or flesh and blood, with this shoulder of his?" + +"Oh, he was alive; somebody ate him, I think." + +"Well, was he a god or a man?" said Charles. + +"Oh, it's a mistake of mine," said Caroline; "he was a goddess, the +ivory-footed--no, that was Thetis." + +"My dear Caroline," said her mother, "do not talk so at random; think +before you speak; you know better than this." + +"She has, ma'am," said Charles, "what Mr. Jennings would call 'a very +inaccurate mind.'" + +"I recollect perfectly now," said Caroline, "he was a friend of +Epaminondas." + +"When did he live?" asked Charles. Caroline was silent. + +"Oh, Carry," said Eliza, "don't you recollect the _memoria technica_?" + +"I never could learn it," said Caroline; "I hate it." + +"Nor can I," said Mary; "give me good native numbers; they are sweet and +kindly, like flowers in a bed; but I don't like your artificial +flower-pots." + +"But surely," said Charles, "a _memoria technica_ makes you recollect a +great many dates which you otherwise could not?" + +"The crabbed names are more difficult even to pronounce than the numbers +to learn," said Caroline. + +"That's because you have very few dates to get up," said Charles; "but +common writing is a _memoria technica_." + +"That's beyond Caroline," said Mary. + +"What are words but artificial signs for ideas?" said Charles; "they are +more musical, but as arbitrary. There is no more reason why the sound +'hat' should mean the particular thing so called, which we put on our +heads, than why 'abul-distof' should stand for 1520." + +"Oh, my dear child," said Mrs. Reding, "how you run on! Don't be +paradoxical." + +"My dear mother," said Charles, coming round to the fire, "I don't want +to be paradoxical; it's only a generalization." + +"Keep it, then, for the schools, my dear; I dare say it will do you good +there," continued Mrs. Reding, while she continued her hemming; "poor +Caroline will be as much put to it in logic as in history." + +"I am in a dilemma," said Charles, as he seated himself on a little +stool at his mother's feet; "for Carry calls me stupid if I am silent, +and you call me paradoxical if I speak." + +"Good sense," said his mother, "is the golden mean." + +"And what is common sense?" said Charles. + +"The silver mean," said Eliza. + +"Well done," said Charles; "it is small change for every hour." + +"Rather," said Caroline, "it is the copper mean, for we want it, like +alms for the poor, to give away. People are always asking _me_ for it. +If I can't tell who Isaac's father was, Mary says, 'O Carry, where's +your common sense?' If I am going out of doors, Eliza runs up, 'Carry,' +she cries, 'you haven't common sense; your shawl's all pinned awry.' And +when I ask mamma the shortest way across the fields to Dalton, she says, +'Use your common sense, my dear.'" + +"No wonder you have so little of it, poor dear child," said Charles; "no +bank could stand such a run." + +"No such thing," said Mary; "it flows into her bank ten times as fast as +it comes out. She has plenty of it from us; and what she does with it no +one can make out; she either hoards or she speculates." + +"'Like the great ocean,'" said Charles, "'which receives the rivers, yet +is not full.'" + +"That's somewhere in Scripture," said Eliza. + +"In the 'Preacher,'" said Charles, and he continued the quotation; "'All +things are full of labour, man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied +with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.'" + +His mother sighed; "Take my cup, my love," she said; "no more." + +"I know why Charles is so fond of the 'Preacher,'" said Mary; "it's +because he's tired of reading; 'much study is a weariness to the flesh.' +I wish we could help you, dear Charles." + +"My dear boy, I really think you read too much," said his mother; "only +think how many hours you have been at it to-day. You are always up one +or two hours before the sun; and I don't think you have had your walk +to-day." + +"It's so dismal walking alone, my dear mother; and as to walking with +you and my sisters, it's pleasant enough, but no exercise." + +"But, Charlie," said Mary, "that's absurd of you; these nice sunny days, +which you could not expect at this season, are just the time for long +walks. Why don't you resolve to make straight for the plantations, or +to mount Hart Hill, or go right through Dun Wood and back?" + +"Because all woods are dun and dingy just now, Mary, and not green. It's +quite melancholy to see them." + +"Just the finest time of the year," said his mother; "it's universally +allowed; all painters say that the autumn is the season to see a +landscape in." + +"All gold and russet," said Mary. + +"It makes me melancholy," said Charles. + +"What! the beautiful autumn make you melancholy?" asked his mother. + +"Oh, my dear mother, you mean to say that I am paradoxical again; I +cannot help it. I like spring; but autumn saddens me." + +"Charles always says so," said Mary; "he thinks nothing of the rich hues +into which the sober green changes; he likes the dull uniform of +summer." + +"No, it is not that," said Charles; "I never saw anything so gorgeous as +Magdalen Water-walk, for instance, in October; it is quite wonderful, +the variety of colours. I admire, and am astonished; but I cannot love +or like it. It is because I can't separate the look of things from what +it portends; that rich variety is but the token of disease and death." + +"Surely," said Mary, "colours have their own intrinsic beauty; we may +like them for their own sake." + +"No, no," said Charles, "we always go by association; else why not +admire raw beef, or a toad, or some other reptiles, which are as +beautiful and bright as tulips or cherries, yet revolting, because we +consider what they are, not how they look?" + +"What next?" said his mother, looking up from her work; "my dear +Charles, you are not serious in comparing cherries to raw beef or to +toads?" + +"No, my dear mother," answered Charles, laughing, "no, I only say that +they look like them, not are like them." + +"A toad look like a cherry, Charles!" persisted Mrs. Reding. + +"Oh, my dear mother," he answered, "I can't explain; I really have said +nothing out of the way. Mary does not think I have." + +"But," said Mary, "why not associate pleasant thoughts with autumn?" + +"It is impossible," said Charles; "it is the sick season and the +deathbed of Nature. I cannot look with pleasure on the decay of the +mother of all living. The many hues upon the landscape are but the spots +of dissolution." + +"This is a strained, unnatural view, Charles," said Mary; "shake +yourself, and you will come to a better mind. Don't you like to see a +rich sunset? yet the sun is leaving you." + +Charles was for a moment posed; then he said, "Yes, but there was no +autumn in Eden; suns rose and set in Paradise, but the leaves were +always green, and did not wither. There was a river to feed them. Autumn +is the 'fall.'" + +"So, my dearest Charles," said Mrs. Reding, "you don't go out walking +these fine days because there was no autumn in the garden of Eden?" + +"Oh," said Charles, laughing, "it is cruel to bring me so to book. What +I meant was, that my reading was a direct obstacle to walking, and that +the fine weather did not tempt me to remove it." + +"I am glad we have you here, my dear," said his mother, "for we can +force you out now and then; at College I suspect you never walk at all." + +"It's only for a time, ma'am," said Charles; "when my examination is +over, I will take as long walks as I did with Edward Gandy that winter +after I left school." + +"Ah, how merry you were then, Charles!" said Mary; "so happy with the +thoughts of Oxford before you!" + +"Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Reding, "you'll then walk too much, as you now +walk too little. My good boy, you are so earnest about everything." + +"It's a shame to find fault with him for being diligent," said Mary: +"you like him to read for honours, I know, mamma; but if he is to get +them he must read a great deal." + +"True, my love," answered Mrs. Reding; "Charles is a dear good fellow, I +know. How glad we all shall be to have him ordained, and settled in a +curacy!" + +Charles sighed. "Come, Mary," he said, "give us some music, now the urn +has gone away. Play me that beautiful air of Beethoven, the one I call +'The Voice of the Dead.'" + +"Oh, Charles, you do give such melancholy names to things!" cried Mary. + +"The other day," said Eliza, "we had a most beautiful scent wafted +across the road as we were walking, and he called it 'the Ghost of the +Past;' and he says that the sound of the Eolian harp is 'remorseful.'" + +"Now, you'd think all that very pretty," said Charles, "if you saw it in +a book of poems; but you call it melancholy when I say it." + +"Oh, yes," said Caroline, "because poets never mean what they say, and +would not be poetical unless they were melancholy." + +"Well," said Mary, "I play to you, Charles, on this one condition, that +you let me give you some morning a serious lecture on that melancholy of +yours, which, I assure you is growing on you." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Charles's perplexities rapidly took a definite form on his coming into +Devonshire. The very fact of his being at home, and not at Oxford where +he ought to have been, brought them before his mind; and the near +prospect of his examination and degree justified the consideration of +them. No addition indeed was made to their substance, as already +described; but they were no longer vague and indistinct, but thoroughly +apprehended by him; nor did he make up his mind that they were +insurmountable, but he saw clearly what it was that had to be +surmounted. The particular form of argument into which they happened to +fall was determined by the circumstances in which he found himself at +the time, and was this, viz. how he could subscribe the Articles _ex +animo_, without faith, more or less, in his Church as the imponent; and +next, how he could have faith in her, her history and present condition +being what they were. The fact of these difficulties was a great source +of distress to him. It was aggravated by the circumstance that he had no +one to talk to, or to sympathize with him under them. And it was +completed by the necessity of carrying about with him a secret which he +dared not tell to others, yet which he foreboded must be told one day. +All this was the secret of that depression of spirits which his sisters +had observed in him. + +He was one day sitting thoughtfully over the fire with a book in his +hand, when Mary entered. "I wish you would teach _me_ the art of reading +Greek in live coals," she said. + +"Sermons in stones, and good in everything," answered Charles. + +"You do well to liken yourself to the melancholy Jaques," she replied. + +"Not so," said he, "but to the good Duke Charles, who was banished to +the green forest." + +"A great grievance," answered Mary, "we being the wild things with whom +you are forced to live. My dear Charles," she continued, "I hope the +tittle-tattle that drove you here does not still dwell on your mind." + +"Why, it is not very pleasant, Mary, after having been on the best terms +with the whole College, and in particular with the Principal and +Jennings, at last to be sent down, as a rowing-man might be rusticated +for tandem-driving. You have no notion how strong the old Principal was, +and Jennings too." + +"Well, my dearest Charles, you must not brood over it," said Mary, "as I +fear you are doing." + +"I don't see where it is to end," said Charles; "the Principal expressly +said that my prospects at the University were knocked up. I suppose they +would not give me a testimonial, if I wished to stand for a fellowship +anywhere." + +"Oh, it is a temporary mistake," said Mary; "I dare say by this time +they know better. And it's one great gain to have you with us; we, at +least, ought to be obliged to them." + +"I have been so very careful, Mary," said Charles; "I have never been to +the evening-parties, or to the sermons which are talked about in the +University. It's quite amazing to me what can have put it into their +heads. At the Article-lecture I now and then asked a question, but it +was really because I wished to understand and get up the different +subjects. Jennings fell on me the moment I entered his room. I can call +it nothing else; very civil at first in his manner, but there was +something in his eye before he spoke which told me at once what was +coming. It's odd a man of such self-command as he should not better hide +his feelings; but I have always been able to see what Jennings was +thinking about." + +"Depend on it," said his sister, "you will think nothing of it whatever +this time next year. It will be like a summer-cloud, come and gone." + +"And then it damps me, and interrupts me in my reading. I fall back +thinking of it, and cannot give my mind to my books, or exert myself. It +is very hard." + +Mary sighed; "I wish I could help you," she said; "but women can do so +little. Come, let me take the fretting, and you the reading; that'll be +a fair division." + +"And then my dear mother too," he continued; "what will she think of it +when it comes to her ears? and come it must." + +"Nonsense," said Mary, "don't make a mountain of a mole-hill. You will +go back, take your degree, and nobody will be the wiser." + +"No, it can't be so," said Charles seriously. + +"What do you mean?" asked Mary. + +"These things don't clear off in that way," said he; "it is no +summer-cloud; it may turn to rain, for what they know." + +Mary looked at him with some surprise. + +"I mean," he said, "that I have no confidence that they will let me take +my degree, any more than let me reside there." + +"That is very absurd," said she; "it's what I meant by brooding over +things, and making mountains of mole-hills." + +"My sweet Mary," he said, affectionately taking her hand, "my only real +confidant and comfort, I would tell you something more, if you could +bear it." + +Mary was frightened, and her heart beat. "Charles," she said, +withdrawing her hand, "any pain is less than to see you thus. I see too +clearly that something is on your mind." + +Charles put his feet on the fender, and looked down. + +"I _can't_ tell you," he said, at length, with vehemence; then, seeing +by her face how much he was distressing her, he said, half-laughing, as +if to turn the edge of his words, "My dear Mary, when people bear +witness against one, one can't help fearing that there is, perhaps, +something to bear witness against." + +"Impossible, Charles! _you_ corrupt other people! _you_ falsify the +Prayer Book and Articles! impossible!" + +"Mary, which do you think would be the best judge whether my face was +dirty and my coat shabby, you or I? Well, then, perhaps Jennings, or at +least common report, knows more about me than I do myself." + +"You must not speak in this way," said Mary, much hurt; "you really do +pain me now. What can you mean?" + +Charles covered his face with his hands, and at length said: "It's no +good; you can't assist me here; I only pain you. I ought not to have +begun the subject." + +There was a silence. + +"My dearest Charles," said Mary tenderly, "come, I will bear anything, +and not be annoyed. Anything better than to see you go on in this way. +But really you frighten me." + +"Why," he answered, "when a number of people tell me that Oxford is not +my place, not my position, perhaps they are right; perhaps it isn't." + +"But is that really all?" she said; "who wants you to lead an Oxford +life? not we." + +"No, but Oxford implies taking a degree--taking orders." + +"Now, my dear Charles, speak out; don't drop hints; let me know;" and +she sat down with a look of great anxiety. + +"Well," he said, making an effort; "yet I don't know where to begin; but +many things have happened to me, in various ways, to show me that I have +not a place, a position, a home, that I am not made for, that I am a +stranger in, the Church of England." + +There was a dreadful pause; Mary turned very pale; then, darting at a +conclusion with precipitancy, she said quickly, "You mean to say, you +are going to join the Church of Rome, Charles." + +"No," he said, "it is not so. I mean no such thing; I mean just what I +say; I have told you the whole; I have kept nothing back. It is this, +and no more--that I feel out of place." + +"Well, then," she said, "you must tell me more; for, to my apprehension, +you mean just what I have said, nothing short of it." + +"I can't go through things in order," he said; "but wherever I go, +whomever I talk with, I feel him to be another sort of person from what +I am. I can't convey it to you; you won't understand me; but the words +of the Psalm, 'I am a stranger upon earth,' describe what I always feel. +No one thinks or feels like me. I hear sermons, I talk on religious +subjects with friends, and every one seems to bear witness against me. +And now the College bears its witness, and sends me down." + +"Oh, Charles," said Mary, "how changed you are!" and tears came into her +eyes; "you used to be so cheerful, so happy. You took such pleasure in +every one, in everything. We used to laugh and say, 'All Charlie's geese +are swans.' What has come over you?" She paused, and then continued: +"Don't you recollect those lines in the 'Christian Year'? I can't repeat +them; we used to apply them to you; something about hope or love 'making +all things bright with her own magic smile.'" + +Charles was touched when he was reminded of what he had been three years +before; he said: "I suppose it is coming out of shadows into +realities." + +"There has been much to sadden you," she added, sighing; "and now these +nasty books are too much for you. Why should you go up for honours? +what's the good of it?" + +There was a pause again. + +"I wish I could bring home to you," said Charles, "the number of +intimations, as it were, which have been given me of my uncongeniality, +as it may be called, with things as they are. What perhaps most affected +me, was a talk I had with Carlton, whom I have lately been reading with; +for, if I could not agree with _him_, or rather, if _he_ bore witness +against me, who could be expected to say a word for me? I cannot bear +the pomp and pretence which I see everywhere. I am not speaking against +individuals; they are very good persons, I know; but, really, if you saw +Oxford as it is! The Heads with such large incomes; they are indeed very +liberal of their money, and their wives are often simple, self-denying +persons, as every one says, and do a great deal of good in the place; +but I speak of the system. Here are ministers of Christ with large +incomes, living in finely furnished houses, with wives and families, and +stately butlers and servants in livery, giving dinners all in the best +style, condescending and gracious, waving their hands and mincing their +words, as if they were the cream of the earth, but without anything to +make them clergymen but a black coat and a white tie. And then Bishops +or Deans come, with women tucked under their arm; and they can't enter +church but a fine powdered man runs first with a cushion for them to sit +on, and a warm sheepskin to keep their feet from the stones." + +Mary laughed: "Well, my dear Charles," she said, "I did not think you +had seen so much of Bishops, Deans, Professors, and Heads of houses at +St. Saviour's; you have kept good company." + +"I have my eyes about me," said Charles, "and have had quite +opportunities enough; I can't go into particulars." + +"Well, you have been hard on them, I think," said Mary; "when a poor old +man has the rheumatism," and she sighed a little, "it is hard he mayn't +have his feet kept from the cold." + +"Ah, Mary, I can't bring it home to you! but you must, please, throw +yourself into what I say, and not criticize my instances or my terms. +What I mean is, that there is a worldly air about everything, as unlike +as possible the spirit of the Gospel. I don't impute to the dons +ambition or avarice; but still, what Heads of houses, Fellows, and all +of them evidently put before them as an end is, to enjoy the world in +the first place, and to serve God in the second. Not that they don't +make it their final object to get to heaven; but their immediate object +is to be comfortable, to marry, to have a fair income, station, and +respectability, a convenient house, a pleasant country, a sociable +neighbourhood. There is nothing high about them. I declare I think the +Puseyites are the only persons who have high views in the whole place; I +should say, the only persons who profess them, for I don't know them to +speak about them." He thought of White. + +"Well, you are talking of things I don't know about," said Mary; "but I +can't think all the young clever men of the place are looking out for +ease and comfort; nor can I believe that in the Church of Rome money has +always been put to the best of purposes." + +"I said nothing about the Church of Rome," said Charles; "why do you +bring in the Church of Rome? that's another thing altogether. What I +mean is, that there is a worldly smell about Oxford which I can't abide. +I am not using 'worldly' in its worse sense. People are religious and +charitable; but--I don't like to mention names--but I know various dons, +and the notion of evangelical poverty, the danger of riches, the giving +up all for Christ, all those ideas which are first principles in +Scripture, as I read it, don't seem to enter into their idea of +religion. I declare, I think that is the reason why the Puseyites are so +unpopular." + +"Well, I can't see," said Mary, "why you must be disgusted with the +world, and with your place and duties in it, because there are worldly +people in it." + +"But I was speaking of Carlton," said Charles; "do you know, good fellow +as he is--and I love, admire, and respect him exceedingly--he actually +laid it down almost as an axiom, that a clergyman of the English Church +ought to marry? He said that celibacy might be very well in other +communions, but that a man made himself a fool, and was out of joint +with the age, who remained single in the Church of England." + +Poor Charles was so serious, and the proposition which he related was so +monstrous, that Mary, in spite of her real distress, could not help +laughing out. "I really cannot help it," she said; "well, it really was +a most extraordinary statement, I confess. But, my dear Charlie, you +are not afraid that he will carry you off against your will, and marry +you to some fair lady before you know where you are?" + +"Don't talk in that way, Mary," said Charles; "I can't bear a joke just +now. I mean, Carlton is so sensible a man, and takes so just a view of +things, that the conviction flashed on my mind, that the Church of +England really was what he implied it to be--a form of religion very +unlike that of the Apostles." + +This sobered Mary indeed. "Alas," she said, "we have got upon very +different ground now; not what our Church thinks of you, but what you +think of our Church." There was a pause. "I thought this was at the +bottom," she said; "I never could believe that a parcel of people, some +of whom you cared nothing for, telling you that you were not in your +place, would make you think so, unless you first felt it yourself. +That's the real truth; and then you interpret what others say in your +own way." Another uncomfortable pause. Then she continued: "I see how it +will be. When you take up a thing, Charles, I know well you don't lay it +down. No, you have made up your mind already. We shall see you a Roman +Catholic." + +"Do _you_ then bear witness against me, Mary, as well as the rest?" said +he sorrowfully. + +She saw her mistake. "No," she answered; "all I say is, that it rests +with yourself, not with others. _If_ you have made up your mind, there's +no help for it. It is not others who drive you, who bear witness against +you. Dear Charles, don't mistake me, and don't deceive yourself. You +have a strong _will_." + +At this moment Caroline entered the room. "I could not think where you +were, Mary," she said; "here Perkins has been crying after you ever so +long. It's something about dinner; I don't know what. We have hunted +high and low, and never guessed you were helping Charles at his books." +Mary gave a deep sigh, and left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Neither to brother nor to sister had the conversation been a +satisfaction or relief. "I can go nowhere for sympathy," thought +Charles; "dear Mary does not understand me more than others. I can't +bring out what I mean and feel; and when I attempt to do so, my +statements and arguments seem absurd to myself. It has been a great +effort to tell her; and in one sense it is a gain, for it is a trial +over. Else I have taken nothing by my move, and might as well have held +my tongue. I have simply pained her without relieving myself. +By-the-bye, she has gone off believing about twice as much as the fact. +I was going to set her right when Carry came in. My only difficulty is +about taking orders; and she thinks I am going to be a Roman Catholic. +How absurd! but women will run on so; give an inch, and they take an +ell. I know nothing of the Roman Catholics. The simple question is, +whether I should go to the Bar or the Church. I declare, I think I have +made vastly too much of it myself. I ought to have begun this way with +her,--I ought to have said, 'D'you know, I have serious thoughts of +reading law?' I've made a hash of it." + +Poor Mary, on the other hand, was in a confusion of thought and feeling +as painful as it was new to her; though for a time household matters and +necessary duties towards her younger sisters occupied her mind in a +different direction. She had been indeed taken at her word; little had +she expected what would come on her when she engaged to "take the +fretting, while he took the reading." She had known what grief was, not +so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of +mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite +frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, +and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. +She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford +party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on +visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and +clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she +had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that +there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she +hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her +brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all +their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so +cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of +the new opinions,--it bewildered her. + +And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them +notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, +so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of +himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old +Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could +be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had +enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: +going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and +the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The +historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just +before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons +from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the +ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual +solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the +Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, +which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the +beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? +Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that +_she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had +acted on the powerful mind of her brother. + +Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a +clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom +she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she +wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he +had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was +gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only +stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of +them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! + +And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner +or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well +enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he +would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons +there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could +be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all +calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it +better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait +till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, +and she must leave it. + +This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually +subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual +element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then +betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither +brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite +the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; +self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than +before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more +attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the +drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he +had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid +examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural +liveliness. + +As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very +hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so +fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; +not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the +country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, +she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any +way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the +winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much +less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own +religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in +no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his +former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings +which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and +professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion +was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, +but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that +occasion she had expressed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been +shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure +of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a +neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and +shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white +neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have +expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the +accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be +that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated +into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the +trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he +must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the +sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and +Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest +pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after +Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the +young ladies. + +"A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are +once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." + +"No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the +hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the +prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." + +"What is that high hill?" said Bateman. + +"It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." + +"We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring +the bell for luncheon, my dear." + +"Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of +building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, +for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our +ecclesiastical structures." + +"Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many +churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. +Martin's was one of them." + +"Fifty," said Eliza. + +"Fifty were intended," said Charles. + +"Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy +Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the +Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance +at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by +English Churchmen before it." + +"Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in +building churches; it has saved us much trouble." + +"Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said +Bateman, taken rather aback. + +"My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, +there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. + +"Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. + +"Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are +destroying the pews." + +"They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." + +"Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of +incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" + +A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking +if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. + +Bateman looked modest. + +"Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but +he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that +sort of thing." + +It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on +clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an +account of his own reforms. + +"Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or +you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens +and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of +the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to +introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, +intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. +However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be +two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my +parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" + +"It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or +bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." + +"Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." + +"Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss +Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, +and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat +being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan +with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." + +Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. +"Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed +French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" + +"Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and +appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think +this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, +'That's the parson.'" + +"I'll be bound they do," said Charles. + +"Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever +hear the like!" + +Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. + +"You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said +Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. + +"Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding +me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have +liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, +however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now +by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of +condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this +is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one +in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those +who are below." + +"It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. + +"But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one +can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." + +"One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking +amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, +you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own +alterations." + +Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach +sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than +to stand." + +"With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have +ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your +parishioners contented?" + +"Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. +The alteration is so simple." + +"Nothing besides?" asked Charles. + +"Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in +the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of +Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a +chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church +is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." + +"Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the +young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you +must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. +There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." + +Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of +the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid +terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. + +"Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report +concerning you, which is everywhere about?" + +"I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. + +"Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as +great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell +me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They +say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of +Rome." + +"Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. + +"Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from +Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a +visitation dinner in Wales." + +"So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as +well as the rest." + +"Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it +true--is it true?" + +"What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you +understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said +Charles. + +"Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. +Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a +certain point, or in any respect?" + +"Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict +it entirely." + +"May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat +denial?" asked Bateman. + +"Of course, of course." + +Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing +him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk +in silence. + +Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful +blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, +who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an +unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across +so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, +her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches +decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, +lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, +had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate +nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, +"what is it you want--what is it? name it." + +"That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he +spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated +nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of +leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. +"Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the +circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the +subject." + +"What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. + +"Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening +to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. +He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was +deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and +that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist +even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day +a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with +Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the +report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that +he always prophesied it." + +"I am much obliged to him," said Charles. + +"However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I +understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. +It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." + +"I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you +must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't +feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, +don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a +night, if you wish it." + +Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when +they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I +should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you +Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and +Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself +with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help +being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters +he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with +pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at +Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could +effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated +about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, +was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he +thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could +turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been +asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of +the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a +little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. + +They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner +turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave +unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, +almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had +not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, +there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and +no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave +scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of +worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the +mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and +places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion +in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it +was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry +in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the +Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the +Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, +Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of +immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as +their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then +you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." + +"But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say +that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward +expression, so that one form is no better than another?" + +"Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music +to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the +representative of a particular place or time." + +"That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," +said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and +modern." + +"Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat +Protestant." + +"The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican +habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." + +"Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; +"and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." + +"Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both +eminently Catholic." + +"You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet +there's no Gothic there." + +"Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if +we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, +can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" + +"Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they +are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider +the first specimen of Antichrist." + +"It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. + +"Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think +that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You +said so yourself just now." + +"It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The +Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ +corruptions among her people." + +"It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our +ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the +Church of Rome." + +"Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British +Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with +us, but she will." + +"Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the +Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is +Antichrist was the life of the movement." + +"With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. + +"Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; +"but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as +that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have +and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the +Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, +energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good +Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." + +"Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been +that Rome and we are sister Churches." + +"I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not +withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of +Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She +opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of +gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? +Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did +that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her +corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." + +"This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, +my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." + +"Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only +way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to +Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our +divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome +is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is +necessary for our position." + +"I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used +in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that +disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." + +"You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean +is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is +antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to +_say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if +it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So +great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your +view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you +don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our +divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not +joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ +think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." + +"Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy +into a nutshell." + +Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the +day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." + +"Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," +answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their +protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes +to see." + +"All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't +wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome +anathematizes _us_." + +"It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our +Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon +their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for +their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn +Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get +over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help +speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be +consistent." + +"Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he +chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's +a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no +reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the +Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the +discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but +not very intellectually. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and +Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" +asked Charles. + +"Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should +like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." + +"Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; +every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of +arguing about it? you won't agree with me." + +"I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they +differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." + +"A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so +much sense, should have so little common sense!" + +"Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, +when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have +figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." + +"My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian +chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, +Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." + +"Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great +in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet +invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." + +"A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. + +"Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the +rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison. Both existed +before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards +consecrated to the service of the Church." + +"Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." + +"Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they +were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old +architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting +their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't +have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." + +"Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to +complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." + +"I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce +them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the +melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as +either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the +natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on +another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or +twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of +proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the +primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to +their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you +attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." + +"You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, +and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." + +"Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," +said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." + +"Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. +You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' +but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a +disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat +and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was +never made for." + +"This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; +"instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any +other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more +about the subject than I do." + +"I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music +did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became +known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly +ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given +birth to Beethoven." + +"Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern +instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture +could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great +mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in +music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has +gained by it." + +"It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed +to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not +musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I +have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral +expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its +parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." + +"Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must +in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you +must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." + +"And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman +with Gregorians?" + +"For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer +Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and +development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the +Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the +exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a +host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be +respectful towards classical." + +The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said +Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead +me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not +religious." + +"I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said +Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven +inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate +Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for +cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. +"Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must +consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our +people." + +"Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is +Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and +just a little modern richness." + +"And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a +mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. +It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the +architecture of the facade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." + +"It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. + +"Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be +absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract +principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture +myself, though I can't defend it." + +Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was +the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he +said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield +to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you +laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." + +"It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. + +"A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." + +"What are you passing to?" asked Charles. + +"Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your +man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in +my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." + +"Have you seen him?" said Charles. + +"No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to +mass, I find." + +"Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. + +"At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. + +"Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." + +"That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. + +"A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to +church up to the week he joined the Romanists." + +"Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a +melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of +delusions should be at length recovered." + +"Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a +number more." + +"Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church +has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I +cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there +is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." + +"Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the +case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, +because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought +round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the +fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to +drive them back." + +"Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is +deplorable, unpardonable." + +"They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. + +"Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said +Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" + +"Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. + +"Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the +enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." + +"_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his +great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was +announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if +you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the +offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. +It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the +lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once +buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came +in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a +religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary +between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred +symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still +venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. +Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little +mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders +were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated +what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to +interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the +sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was +overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy +times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you +are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin +where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about +everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, +took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that +whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the +loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. +He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm +and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned +that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to +aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It +is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed +away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. + +The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to +his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his +table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He +broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- + + "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ + + 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" + +"This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" +and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some +well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up +his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in +this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a +Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had +seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began +reading _in extenso:_-- + + "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ + + 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? + + 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? + + 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? + + 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? + + 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? + + 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the + Church a kingdom? + + 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? + + 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary + directions? + + 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to + make two nations one kingdom? + + 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, + sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? + + 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a + visible unity require a visible union? + + 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct + worships and ideas of worship? + + 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act + of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous + deceit' in the other? + + 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? + + 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? + + 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? + + 17. And in different centuries? + + 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? + + 19. And in its divines and members one with another? + + 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? + + 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? + + 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and + Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? + + 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a + professed messenger from God? + + 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from + God? + + 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? + + 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church + seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? + + 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems + to have hope and charity?" + +Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It +won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but +they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and +was soon fast asleep. + +Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, +and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do +wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere +else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains +to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But +it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to +giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten +it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede +its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went +to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could +not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a +conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least +so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall +be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall +go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can +but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry +me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear +father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't +put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless +my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul +sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I +have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. +"My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my +examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and +signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well +written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's +something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his +mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was +not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English +Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to +dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had +accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the +rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy +as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear +head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted +Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be +a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother +under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; +and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to +save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk +to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly +it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that +he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing +occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so +let them pass. + +One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was +surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with +a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing +him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the +stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not +control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of +reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for +it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of +Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. + +Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his +eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had +before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. +He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was +changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was +natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was +in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; +his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but +there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his +cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. +When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self +returned. + +"I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, +as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." + +"It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they +have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, +and very common." + +"Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I +fancied oil was the substitute." + +"Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the +summer." + +"Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the +multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and +butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it +as milk." + +"The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. + +"Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All +such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at +first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much +for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are +in a measure artificial." + +"It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I +could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some +others." + +"Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only +naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the +stream," replied Campbell. + +"Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. + +"The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more +palatable," said Willis. + +"Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. + +"No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a +something _recherche_. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' +What nature yields _sponte sua_ around you, however delicious, is no +luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your +Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." + +"Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," +said Bateman; "for it comes from China." + +Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were +quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it +might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened +before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were +making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price +would soon be the only measure of luxury. + +"This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," +said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in +Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." + +"This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," +observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." + +"Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound +by their lax ways in Italy?" + +"I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable +to this age, in England as well as in Rome." + +"Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you +won't secure your prisoner." + +"What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most +rigidly at Oxford." + +"It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." + +"But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. + +"They are not binding," answered Campbell. + +"They _are_, binding," said Bateman. + +A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: +"Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I +suppose?" + +"A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, +Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad +you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." + +"An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; +"they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put +in force?" + +"But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." + +"Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted +Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." + +"Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a +difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." + +"My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. + +"Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor +Bateman. + +"Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude +of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I +appeal to Mr. Willis." + +Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he +had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that +when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, +if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he +was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. + +"What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" + +"No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of +which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the +exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at +length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we +should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give +expression to this common-sense view." + +"Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. +Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the +Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; +the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." + +"But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you +have heard." + +Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to +Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one +Church?" + +"Most certainly," answered Bateman. + +"Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" + +"In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." + +"That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have +no intercourse with each other." + +Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social +dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual +support; in short, no visible union." + +Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I +can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are +not visibly united; unity implies _union_." + +"I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, +Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of +our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English +and Romish Churches are both parts of it." + +Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came +to the rescue in his own way. + +"We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A +kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, +yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the +Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." + +"I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a +rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a +rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to +divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of +one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part +of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part +of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and +England." + +"Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; +"consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union +between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha +may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." + +"The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to +dissolution?" + +"Certainly it is," answered Campbell. + +"And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. + +"Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's +saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' +just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah +when the Shiloh came." + +"Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, +"according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be +more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and +England?" + +"They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. + +"Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something +definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." + +"Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit +yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did +occur, it would be difficult to see our way." + +"No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you +would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some +other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, +speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" + +The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the +conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, +had been an impatient listener. + +"That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go +along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, +it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the +Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other +sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." + +"My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to +maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we +must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, +while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." + +"I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. +There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, +and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, +manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much +as ever it was." + +"That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in +a state of discomfort. "Nature never intended you for a +controversialist, my good Bateman," he added to himself. + +"It is as I thought," said Willis; "Bateman, you are describing an +invisible Church. You hold the indefectibility of the invisible Church, +not of the visible." + +"They are in a fix," thought Charles, "but I will do my best to tow old +Bateman out;" so he began: "No," he said, "Bateman only means that one +Church presents, in some particular point, a different appearance from +another; but it does not follow that, in fact, they have not a visible +agreement too. All difference implies agreement; the English and Roman +Churches agree visibly and differ visibly. Think of the different styles +of architecture, and you will see, Willis, what he means. A church is a +church all the world over, it is visibly one and the same, and yet how +different is church from church! Our churches are Gothic, the southern +churches are Palladian. How different is a basilica from York Cathedral! +yet they visibly agree together. No one would mistake either for a +mosque or a Jewish temple. We may quarrel which is the better style; +one likes the basilica, another calls it pagan." + +"That _I_ do," said Bateman. + +"A little extreme," said Campbell, "a little extreme, as usual. The +basilica is beautiful in its place. There are two things which Gothic +cannot show--the line or forest of round polished columns, and the +graceful dome, circling above one's head like the blue heaven itself." + +All parties were glad of this diversion from the religious dispute; so +they continued the lighter conversation which had succeeded it with +considerable earnestness. + +"I fear I must confess," said Willis, "that the churches at Rome do not +affect me like the Gothic; I reverence them, I feel awe in them, but I +love, I feel a sensible pleasure at the sight of the Gothic arch." + +"There are other reasons for that in Rome," said Campbell; "the churches +are so unfinished, so untidy. Rome is a city of ruins! the Christian +temples are built on ruins, and they themselves are generally +dilapidated or decayed; thus they are ruins of ruins." Campbell was on +an easier subject than that of Anglo-Catholicism, and, no one +interrupting him, he proceeded flowingly: "In Rome you have huge high +buttresses in the place of columns, and these not cased with marble, but +of cold white plaster or paint. They impart an indescribable forlorn +look to the churches." + +Willis said he often wondered what took so many foreigners, that is, +Protestants, to Rome; it was so dreary, so melancholy a place; a number +of old, crumbling, shapeless brick masses, the ground unlevelled, the +straight causeways fenced by high monotonous walls, the points of +attraction straggling over broad solitudes, faded palaces, trees +universally pollarded, streets ankle deep in filth or eyes-and-mouth +deep in a cloud of whirling dust and straws, the climate most +capricious, the evening air most perilous. Naples was an earthly +paradise; but Rome was a city of faith. To seek the shrines that it +contained was a veritable penance, as was fitting. He understood +Catholics going there; he was perplexed at Protestants. + +"There is a spell about the _limina Apostolorum_," said Charles; "St. +Peter and St. Paul are not there for nothing." + +"There is a more tangible reason," said Campbell; "it is a place where +persons of all nations are to be found; no society is so varied as the +Roman. You go to a ballroom; your host, whom you bow to in the first +apartment, is a Frenchman; as you advance your eye catches Massena's +granddaughter in conversation with Mustapha Pasha; you soon find +yourself seated between a Yankee _charge d'affaires_ and a Russian +colonel; and an Englishman is playing the fool in front of you." + +Here Campbell looked at his watch, and then at Willis, whom he had +driven over to Melford to return Bateman's call. It was time for them to +be going, or they would be overtaken by the evening. Bateman, who had +remained in a state of great dissatisfaction since he last spoke, which +had not been for a quarter of an hour past, did not find himself in +spirits to try much to detain either them or Reding; so he was speedily +left to himself. He drew his chair to the fire, and for a while felt +nothing more than a heavy load of disgust. After a time, however, his +thoughts began to draw themselves out into series, and took the +following form: "It's too bad, too bad," he said; "Campbell is a very +clever man--far cleverer than I am; a well-read man, too; but he has no +tact, no tact. It is deplorable; Reding's coming was one misfortune; +however, we might have got over that, we might have even turned it to an +advantage; but to use such arguments as he did! how could he hope to +convince him? he made us both a mere laughing-stock.... How did he throw +off? Oh, he said that the Rubrics were not binding. Who ever heard such +a thing--at least from an Anglo-Catholic? Why pretend to be a good +Catholic with such views? better call himself a Protestant or Erastian +at once, and one would know where to find him. Such a bad impression it +must make on Willis; I saw it did; he could hardly keep from smiling: +but Campbell has no tact at all. He goes on, on, his own way, bringing +out his own thoughts, which are very clever, original certainly, but +never considering his company. And he's so positive, so knock-me-down; +it is quite unpleasant, I don't know how to sit it sometimes. Oh, it is +a cruel thing this--the effect must be wretched. Poor Willis! I declare +I don't think we have moved him one inch, I really don't. I fancied at +one time he was even laughing at _me_.... What was it he said +afterwards? there was something else, I know. I recollect; that the +Catholic Church was in ruins, had broken to pieces. What a paradox! +who'll believe that but he? I declare I am so vexed I don't know what to +be at." He jumped up and began walking to and fro. "But all this is +because the Bishops won't interfere; one can't say it, that's the worst, +but they are at the bottom of the evil. They have but to put out their +little finger and enforce the Rubrics, and then the whole controversy +would be at an end.... I knew there was something else, yes! He said we +need not fast! But Cambridge men are always peculiar, they always have +some whim or other; he ought to have been at Oxford, and we should have +made a man of him. He has many good points, but he runs theories, and +rides hobbies, and drives consequences, to death." + +Here he was interrupted by his clerk, who told him that John Tims had +taken his oath that his wife should not be churched before the +congregation, and was half-minded to take his infant to the Methodists +for baptism; and his thoughts took a different direction. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +The winter had been on the whole dry and pleasant, but in February and +March the rains were so profuse, and the winds so high, that Bateman saw +very little of either Charles or Willis. He did not abandon his designs +on the latter, but it was an anxious question how best to conduct them. +As to Campbell, he was resolved to exclude him from any participation in +them; but he hesitated about Reding. He had found him far less +definitely Roman than he expected, and he conjectured that, by making +him his confidant and employing him against Willis, he really might +succeed in giving him an Anglican direction. Accordingly, he told him of +his anxiety to restore Willis to "the Church of his baptism;" and not +discouraged by Charles's advice to let well alone, for he might succeed +in drawing him from Rome without reclaiming him to Anglicanism, the +weather having improved, he asked the two to dinner on one of the later +Sundays in Lent. He determined to make a field-day of it; and, with that +view, he carefully got up some of the most popular works against the +Church of Rome. After much thought he determined to direct his attack on +some of the "practical evils," as he considered them, of "Romanism;" as +being more easy of proof than points of doctrine and history, in which, +too, for what he knew, Willis might by this time be better read than +himself. He considered, too, that, if Willis had been at all shaken in +his new faith when he was abroad, it was by the practical +exemplification which he had before his eyes of the issue of its +peculiar doctrines when freely carried out. Moreover, to tell the truth, +our good friend had not a very clear apprehension how much doctrine he +held in common with the Church of Rome, or where he was to stop in the +several details of Pope Pius's Creed; in consequence, it was evidently +safer to confine his attack to matters of practice. + +"You see, Willis," he said, as they sat down to table, "I have given you +abstinence food, not knowing whether you avail yourself of the +dispensation. We shall eat meat ourselves; but don't think we don't fast +at proper times; I don't agree with Campbell at all; we don't fast, +however, on Sunday. That is our rule, and, I take it, a primitive one." + +Willis answered that he did not know how the primitive usage lay, but he +supposed that both of them allowed that matters of discipline might be +altered by the proper authority. + +"Certainly," answered Bateman, "so that everything is done consistently +with the inspired text of Scripture;"--he stopped, itching, if he could, +to bring in some great subject, but not seeing how. He saw he must rush +_in medias res_; so he added,--"with which inspired text, I presume, +what one sees in foreign churches is not very consistent." + +"What? I suppose you mean antependia, rere-dosses, stone altars, copes, +and mitres," said Willis innocently; "which certainly are not in +Scripture." + +"True," said Bateman; "but these, though not in Scripture, are not +inconsistent with Scripture. They are all very right; but the worship of +Saints, especially the Blessed Virgin, and of relics, the gabbling over +prayers in an unknown tongue, Indulgences, and infrequent communions, I +suspect are directly unscriptural." + +"My dear Bateman," said Willis, "you seem to live in an atmosphere of +controversy; so it was at Oxford; there was always argument going on in +your rooms. Religion is a thing to enjoy, not to quarrel about; give me +a slice more of that leg of mutton." + +"Yes, Bateman," said Reding, "you must let us enjoy our meat. Willis +deserves it, for I believe he has had a fair walk to-day. Have you not +walked a good part of the way to Seaton and back? a matter of fourteen +miles, and hilly ground; it can't be dry, too, in parts yet." + +"True," said Bateman; "take a glass of wine, Willis; it's good Madeira; +an aunt of mine sent it me." + +"He puts us to shame," said Charles, "who have stepped into church from +our bedroom; he has trudged a pilgrimage to his." + +"I'm not saying a word against our dear friend Willis," said Bateman; +"it was merely a point on which I thought he would agree with me, that +there were many corruptions of worship in foreign churches." + +At last, when his silence was observable, Willis said that he supposed +that persons who were not Catholics could not tell what were corruptions +and what not. Here the subject dropped again; for Willis did not seem in +humour--perhaps he was too tired--to continue it. So they ate and drank, +with nothing but very commonplace remarks to season their meal withal, +till the cloth was removed. The table was then shoved back a bit, and +the three young men got over the fire, which Bateman made burn brightly. +Two of them at least had deserved some relaxation, and they were the two +who were to be opponent and respondent in the approaching argument--one +had had a long walk, the other had had two full services, a baptism, and +a funeral. The armistice continued a good quarter of an hour, which +Charles and Willis spent in easy conversation; till Bateman, who had +been priming himself the while with his controversial points, found +himself ready for the assault, and opened it in form. + +"Come, my dear Willis," he said, "I can't let you off so; I am sure what +you saw abroad scandalized you." + +This was almost rudely put. Willis said that, had he been a Protestant, +he might have been easily shocked; but he had been a Catholic; and he +drew an almost imperceptible sigh. Besides, had he had a temptation to +be shocked, he should have recollected that he was in a Church which in +all greater matters could not err. He had not come to the Church to +criticize, he said, but to learn. "I don't know," he said, "what is +meant by saying that we ought to have faith, that faith is a grace, +that faith is the means of our salvation, if there is nothing to +exercise it. Faith goes against sight; well, then, unless there are +sights which offend you, there is nothing for it to go against." + +Bateman called this a paradox; "If so," he said, "why don't we become +Mahometans? we should have enough to believe then." + +"Why, just consider," said Willis; "supposing your friend, an honourable +man, is accused of theft, and appearances are against him, would you at +once admit the charge? It would be a fair trial of your faith in him; +and if he were able in the event satisfactorily to rebut it, I don't +think he would thank you, should you have waited for his explanation +before you took his part, instead of knowing him too well to suspect it. +If, then, I come to the Church with faith in her, whatever I see there, +even if it surprises me, is but a trial of my faith." + +"That is true," said Charles; "but there must be some ground for faith; +we do not believe without reason; and the question is, whether what the +Church does, as in worship, is not a fair matter to form a judgment +upon, for or against." + +"A Catholic," said Willis, "as I was when I was abroad, has already +found his grounds, for he believes; but for one who has not--I mean a +Protestant--I certainly consider it is very uncertain whether he will +take _the_ view of Catholic worship which he ought to take. It may +easily happen that he will not understand it." + +"Yet persons have before now been converted by the sight of Catholic +worship," said Reding. + +"Certainly," answered Willis: "God works in a thousand ways; there is +much in Catholic worship to strike a Protestant, but there is much which +will perplex him; for instance, what Bateman has alluded to, our +devotion to the Blessed Virgin." + +"Surely," said Bateman, "this is a plain matter; it is quite impossible +that the worship paid by Roman Catholics to the Blessed Mary should not +interfere with the supreme adoration due to the Creator alone." + +"This is just an instance in point," said Willis; "you see you are +judging _a priori_; you know nothing of the state of the case from +experience, but you say, 'It must be; it can't be otherwise.' This is +the way a Protestant judges, and comes to one conclusion; a Catholic, +who acts, and does not speculate, feels the truth of the contrary." + +"Some things," said Bateman, "are so like axioms, as to supersede trial. +On the other hand, familiarity is very likely to hide from people the +real evil of certain practices." + +"How strange it is," answered Willis, "that you don't perceive that this +is the very argument which various sects urge against you Anglicans! For +instance, the Unitarian says that the doctrine of the Atonement _must_ +lead to our looking at the Father, not as a God of love, but of +vengeance only; and he calls the doctrine of eternal punishment immoral. +And so, the Wesleyan or Baptist declares that it is an absurdity to +suppose any one can hold the doctrine of baptismal regeneration, and +really be spiritual; that the doctrine _must_ have a numbing effect on +the mind, and destroy its simple reliance on the atonement of Christ. I +will take another instance: many a good Catholic, who never came across +Anglicans, is as utterly unable to realize your position as you are to +realize his. He cannot make out how you can be so illogical as not to go +forward or backward; nay, he pronounces your professed state of mind +impossible; he does not believe in its existence. I may deplore your +state; I may think you illogical and worse; but I know it is a state +which does exist. As, then, I admit that a person can hold one Catholic +Church, yet without believing that the Roman Communion is it, so I put +it to you, even as an _argumentum ad hominem_, whether you ought not to +believe that we can honour our Blessed Lady as the first of creatures, +without interfering with the honour due to God? At most, you ought to +call us only illogical, you ought not to deny that we do what we say we +do." + +"I make a distinction," said Bateman; "it is quite possible, I fully +grant, for an educated Romanist to distinguish between the devotion paid +by him to the Blessed Virgin, and the worship of God; I only say that +the multitude will not distinguish." + +"I know you say so," answered Willis; "and still, I repeat, not from +experience, but on an _a priori_ ground. You say, not 'it is so,' but +'it _must_ be so.'" + +There was a pause in the conversation, and then Bateman recommenced it. + +"You may give us some trouble," said he, laughing, "but we are resolved +to have you back, my good Willis. Now consider, you are a lover of +truth: is that Church from heaven which tells untruths?" + +Willis laughed too; "We must define the words _truth_ and _untruth_," he +said; "but, subject to that definition, I have no hesitation in +enunciating the truism, that a Church is not from heaven which tells +untruths." + +"Of course, you can't deny the proposition," said Bateman; "well, then, +is it not quite certain that in Rome itself there are relics which all +learned men now give up, and which yet are venerated as relics? For +instance, Campbell tells me that the reputed heads of St. Peter and St. +Paul, in some great Roman basilica, are certainly not the heads of the +Apostles, because the head of St. Paul was found with his body, after +the fire at his church some years since." + +"I don't know about the particular instance," answered Willis; "but you +are opening a large question which cannot be settled in a few words. If +I must speak, I should say this: I should begin with the assumption that +the existence of relics is not improbable; do you grant _that_?" + +"I grant nothing," said Bateman; "but go on." + +"Why you have plenty of heathen relics, which you admit. What is +Pompeii, and all that is found there, but one vast heathen relic? why +should there not be Christian relics in Rome and elsewhere as well as +pagan?" + +"Of course, of course," said Bateman. + +"Well, and relics may be identified. You have the tomb of the Scipios, +with their names on them. Did you find ashes in one of them, I suppose +you would be pretty certain that they were the ashes of a Scipio." + +"To the point," cried Bateman, "quicker." + +"St. Peter," continued Willis, "speaks of David, 'whose sepulchre is +with you unto this day.' Therefore it's nothing wonderful that a +religious relic should be preserved eleven hundred years, and identified +to be such, when a nation makes a point of preserving it." + +"This is beating about the bush," cried Bateman impatiently; "get on +quicker." + +"Let me go on my own way," said Willis--"then there is nothing +improbable, considering Christians have always been very careful about +the memorials of sacred things--" + +"You've not proved that," said Bateman, fearing that some manoeuvre, +he could not tell what, was in progress. + +"Well," said Willis, "you don't doubt it, I suppose, at least from the +fourth century, when St. Helena brought from the Holy Land the memorials +of our Lord's passion, and lodged them at Rome in the Basilica, which +was thereupon called Santa Croce. As to the previous times of +persecution, Christians, of course, had fewer opportunities of showing a +similar devotion, and historical records are less copious; yet, in spite +of this, its existence is as certain as any fact of history. They +collected the bones of St. Polycarp, the immediate disciple of St. John, +after he was burnt; as of St. Ignatius before him, after his exposure to +the beasts; and so in like manner the bones or blood of all the martyrs. +No one doubts it; I never heard of any one who did. So the disciples +took up the Baptist's body--it would have been strange if they had +not--and buried it 'in _the_ sepulchre,' as the Evangelist says, +speaking of it as known. Now, why should they not in like manner, and +even with greater reason, have rescued the bodies of St. Peter and St. +Paul, if it were only for decent burial? Is it then wonderful, if the +bodies were rescued, that they should be afterwards preserved?" + +"But they can't be in two places at once," said Bateman. + +"But hear me," answered Willis; "I say then if there is a tradition +that in a certain place there is a relic of an apostle, there is at +first sight a probability that it _is_ there; the presumption is in its +favour. Can you deny it? Well, if the same relic is reported to be in +two places, then one or the other tradition is erroneous, and the _prima +facie_ force of both traditions is weakened; but I should not actually +discard either at once; each has its force still, though neither so +great a force. Now, suppose there are circumstances which confirm the +one, the other is weakened still further, and at length the probability +of its truth may become evanescent; and when a fair interval has passed, +and there is no change of evidence in its favour, then it is at length +given up. But all this is a work of time; meanwhile, it is not a bit +more of an objection to the doctrine and practice of relic-veneration +that a body is said to lie in two places, than to profane history that +Charles I. was reported by some authorities to be buried at Windsor, by +others at Westminster; which question was decided just before our +times. It is a question of evidence, and must be treated as such." + +"But if St. Paul's head was found under his own church," said Bateman, +"it's pretty clear it is not preserved at the other basilica." + +"True," answered Willis; "but grave questions of this kind cannot be +decided in a moment. I don't know myself the circumstances of the case, +and do but take your account of it. It has to be proved, then, I +suppose, that it _was_ St. Paul's head which was found with his body; +for, since he was beheaded, it would not be attached to it. This is one +question, and others would arise. It is not easy to settle a question of +history. Questions which seem settled revive. It is very well for +secular historians to give up a tradition or testimony at once, and for +a generation to oh-oh it; but the Church cannot do so; she has a +religious responsibility, and must move slowly. Take the _chance_ of its +turning out that the heads at St. John Lateran were, after all, those of +the two Apostles, and that she had cast them aside. Questions, I say, +revive. Did not Walpole make it highly probable that the two little +princes had a place in the procession at King Richard's coronation, +though a century before him two skeletons of boys were found in the +Tower at the very place where the children of Edward were said to have +been murdered and buried by the Duke of Gloucester? I speak from memory, +but the general fact which I am illustrating is undeniable. Ussher, +Pearson, and Voss proved that St. Ignatius's shorter Epistles were +genuine; and now, after the lapse of two centuries, the question is at +least plausibly mooted again." + +There was another pause, while Bateman thought over his facts and +arguments, but nothing was forthcoming at the moment. Willis continued: +"You must consider also that reputed relics, such as you have mentioned, +are generally in the custody of religious bodies, who are naturally very +jealous of attempts to prove them spurious, and, with a pardonable +_esprit de corps_, defend them with all their might, and oppose +obstacles in the way of an adverse decision; just as your own society +defends, most worthily, the fair fame of your foundress, Queen Boadicea. +Were the case given against her by every tribunal in the land, your +valiant and loyal Head would not abandon her; it would break his +magnanimous heart; he would die in her service as a good knight. Both +from religious duty, then, and from human feeling, it is a very arduous +thing to get a received relic disowned." + +"Well," said Bateman, "to my poor judgment it does seem a dishonesty to +keep up inscriptions, for instance, which every one knows not to be +true." + +"My dear Bateman, that is begging the question," said Willis; "_every_ +body does _not_ know it; it is a point in course of settlement, but not +settled; you may say that _individuals_ have settled it, or it _may_ be +settled, but it is not settled yet. Parallel cases happen frequently in +civil matters, and no one speaks harshly of existing individuals or +bodies in consequence. Till lately the Monument in London bore an +inscription to the effect that London had been burned by us poor +Papists. A hundred years ago, Pope, the poet, had called the 'column' 'a +tall bully' which 'lifts its head and lies,' Yet the inscription was not +removed till a few years since--I believe when the Monument was +repaired. That was an opportunity for erasing a calumny which, till +then, had not been definitely pronounced to be such, and not pronounced +in deference to the _prima facie_ authority of a statement +contemporaneous with the calamity which it recorded. There is never a +_point_ of time at which you can say, 'The tradition is now disproved.' +When a received belief has been apparently exposed, the question lies +dormant for the opportunity of fresh arguments; when none appear, then +at length an accident, such as the repair of a building, despatches it." + +"We have somehow got off the subject," thought Bateman; and he sat +fidgeting about to find the thread of his argument. Reding put in an +objection; he said that no one knew or cared about the inscription on +the Monument, but religious veneration was paid to the two heads at St. +John Lateran. + +"Right," said Bateman, "that's just what I meant to say." + +"Well," answered Willis, "as to the particular case--mind, I am taking +your account of it, for I don't profess to know how the matter lies. But +let us consider the extent of the mistake. There is no doubt in the +world that at least they are the heads of martyrs; the only question is +this, and no more, whether they are the very heads of the two Apostles. +From time immemorial they have been preserved upon or under the altar as +the heads of saints or martyrs; and it requires to know very little of +Christian antiquities to be perfectly certain that they really are +saintly relics, even though unknown. Hence the sole mistake is, that +Catholics have venerated, what ought to be venerated anyhow, under a +wrong name; perhaps have expected miracles (which they had a right to +expect), and have experienced them (as they might well experience them), +because they _were_ the relics of saints, though they were in error as +to what saints. This surely is no great matter." + +"You have made three assumptions," said Bateman; "first, that none but +the relics of saints have been placed under altars; secondly, that these +relics were always there; thirdly--thirdly--I know there was a +third--let me see--" + +"Most true," said Willis, interrupting him, "and I will help you to some +others. I have assumed that there are Christians in the world called +Catholics; again, that they think it right to venerate relics; but, my +dear Bateman, these were the grounds, and not the point of our argument; +and if they are to be questioned, it must be in a distinct dispute: but +I really think we have had enough of disputation." + +"Yes, Bateman," said Charles; "it is getting late. I must think of +returning. Give us some tea, and let us begone." + +"Go home?" cried Bateman; "why, we have just done dinner, and done +nothing else as yet; I had a great deal to say." + +However, he rang the bell for tea, and had the table cleared. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +The conversation flagged; Bateman was again busy with his memory; and he +was getting impatient too; time was slipping away, and no blow struck; +moreover, Willis was beginning to gape, and Charles seemed impatient to +be released. "These Romanists put things so plausibly," he said to +himself, "but very unfairly, most unfairly; one ought to be up to their +dodges. I dare say, if the truth were known, Willis has had lessons; he +looks so demure; I dare say he is keeping back a great deal, and playing +upon my ignorance. Who knows? perhaps he's a concealed Jesuit." It was +an awful thought, and suspended the course of his reflections some +seconds. "I wonder what he does really think; it's so difficult to get +at the bottom of them; they won't tell tales, and they are under +obedience; one never knows when to believe them. I suspect he has been +wofully disappointed with Romanism; he looks so thin; but of course he +won't say so; it hurts a man's pride, and he likes to be consistent; he +doesn't like to be laughed at, and so he makes the best of things. I +wish I knew how to treat him; I was wrong in having Reding here; of +course Willis would not be confidential before a third person. He's +like the fox that lost his tail. It was bad tact in me; I see it now; +what a thing it is to have tact! it requires very delicate tact. There +are so many things I wished to say, about Indulgences, about their so +seldom communicating; I think I must ask him about the Mass." So, after +fidgeting a good deal within, while he was ostensibly employed in making +tea, he commenced his last assault. + +"Well, we shall have you back again among us by next Christmas, Willis," +he said; "I can't give you greater law; I am certain of it; it takes +time, but slow and sure. What a joyful time it will be! I can't tell +what keeps you; you are doing nothing; you are flung into a corner; you +are wasting life. _What_ keeps you?" + +Willis looked odd; then he simply answered, "Grace." + +Bateman was startled, but recovered himself; "Heaven forbid," he said, +"that I should treat these things lightly, or interfere with you unduly. +I know, my dear friend, what a serious fellow you are; but do tell me, +just tell me, how can you justify the Mass, as it is performed abroad; +how can it be called a 'reasonable service,' when all parties conspire +to gabble it over as if it mattered not a jot who attended to it, or +even understood it? Speak, man, speak," he added, gently shaking him by +the shoulder. + +"These are such difficult questions," answered Willis; "must I speak? +Such difficult questions," he continued, rising into a more animated +manner, and kindling as he went on; "I mean, people view them so +differently: it is so difficult to convey to one person the idea of +another. The idea of worship is different in the Catholic Church from +the idea of it in your Church; for, in truth, the _religions_ are +different. Don't deceive yourself, my dear Bateman," he said tenderly, +"it is not that ours is your religion carried a little farther,--a +little too far, as you would say. No, they differ in kind, not in +degree; ours is one religion, yours another. And when the time comes, +and come it will, for you, alien as you are now, to submit yourself to +the gracious yoke of Christ, then, my dearest Bateman, it will be +_faith_ which will enable you to bear the ways and usages of Catholics, +which else might perhaps startle you. Else, the habits of years, the +associations in your mind of a certain outward behaviour with real +inward acts of devotion, might embarrass you, when you had to conform +yourself to other habits, and to create for yourself other associations. +But this faith, of which I speak, the great gift of God, will enable you +in that day to overcome yourself, and to submit, as your judgment, your +will, your reason, your affections, so your tastes and likings, to the +rule and usage of the Church. Ah, that faith should be necessary in such +a matter, and that what is so natural and becoming under the +circumstances, should have need of an explanation! I declare, to me," he +said, and he clasped his hands on his knees, and looked forward as if +soliloquizing, "to me nothing is so consoling, so piercing, so +thrilling, so overcoming, as the Mass, said as it is among us. I could +attend Masses for ever, and not be tired. It is not a mere form of +words,--it is a great action, the greatest action that can be on earth. +It is, not the invocation merely, but, if I dare use the word, the +evocation of the Eternal. He becomes present on the altar in flesh and +blood, before whom angels bow and devils tremble. This is that awful +event which is the scope, and is the interpretation, of every part of +the solemnity. Words are necessary, but as means, not as ends; they are +not mere addresses to the throne of grace, they are instruments of what +is far higher, of consecration, of sacrifice. They hurry on as if +impatient to fulfil their mission. Quickly they go, the whole is quick; +for they are all parts of one integral action. Quickly they go; for they +are awful words of sacrifice, they are a work too great to delay upon; +as when it was said in the beginning, 'What thou doest, do quickly.' +Quickly they pass; for the Lord Jesus goes with them, as He passed along +the lake in the days of His flesh, quickly calling first one and then +another. Quickly they pass; because as the lightning which shineth from +one part of the heaven unto the other, so is the coming of the Son of +Man. Quickly they pass; for they are as the words of Moses, when the +Lord came down in the cloud, calling on the Name of the Lord as He +passed by, 'The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, +long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth.' And as Moses on the +mountain, so we too 'make haste and bow our heads to the earth, and +adore.' So we, all around, each in his place, look out for the great +Advent, 'waiting for the moving of the water.' Each in his place, with +his own heart, with his own wants, with his own thoughts, with his own +intention, with his own prayers, separate but concordant, watching what +is going on, watching its progress, uniting in its consummation;--not +painfully and hopelessly following a hard form of prayer from beginning +to end, but, like a concert of musical instruments, each different, but +concurring in a sweet harmony, we take our part with God's priest, +supporting him, yet guided by him. There are little children there, and +old men, and simple labourers, and students in seminaries, priests +preparing for Mass, priests making their thanksgiving; there are +innocent maidens, and there are penitent sinners; but out of these many +minds rises one eucharistic hymn, and the great Action is the measure +and the scope of it. And oh, my dear Bateman," he added, turning to him, +"you ask me whether this is not a formal, unreasonable service--it is +wonderful!" he cried, rising up, "quite wonderful. When will these dear, +good people be enlightened? _O Sapientia, fortiter suaviterque disponens +omnia, O Adonai, O Clavis David et Exspectatio gentium, veni ad +salvandum nos, Domine Deus noster._" + +Now, at least, there was no mistaking Willis. Bateman stared, and was +almost frightened at a burst of enthusiasm which he had been far from +expecting. "Why, Willis," he said, "it is not true, then, after all, +what we heard, that you were somewhat dubious, shaky, in your adherence +to Romanism? I'm sure I beg your pardon; I would not for the world have +annoyed you, had I known the truth." + +Willis's face still glowed, and he looked as youthful and radiant as he +had been two years before. There was nothing ungentle in his +impetuosity; a smile, almost a laugh, was on his face, as if he was +half ashamed of his own warmth; but this took nothing from its evident +sincerity. He seized Bateman's two hands, before the latter knew where +he was, lifted him up out of his seat, and, raising his own mouth close +to his ear, said, in a low voice, "I would to God, that not only thou, +but also all who hear me this day, were both in little and in much such +as I am, except these chains." Then, reminding him it had grown late, +and bidding him good-night, he left the room with Charles. + +Bateman remained a while with his back to the fire after the door had +closed; presently he began to give expression to his thoughts. "Well," +he said, "he's a brick, a regular brick; he has almost affected me +myself. What a way those fellows have with them! I declare his touch has +made my heart beat; how catching enthusiasm is! Any one but I might +really have been unsettled. He _is_ a real good fellow; what a pity we +have not got him! he's just the sort of man we want. He'd make a +splendid Anglican; he'd convert half the Dissenters in the country. +Well, we shall have them in time; we must not be impatient. But the idea +of his talking of converting _me_! 'in little and in much,' as he worded +it! By-the-bye, what did he mean by 'except these chains'?" He sat +ruminating on the difficulty; at first he was inclined to think that, +after all, he might have some misgiving about his position; then he +thought that perhaps he had a hair-shirt or a _catenella_ on him; and +lastly, he came to the conclusion that he had just meant nothing at all, +and did but finish the quotation he had begun. + +After passing some little time in this state, he looked towards the +tea-tray; poured himself out another cup of tea; ate a bit of toast; +took the coals off the fire; blew out one of the candles, and, taking up +the other, left the parlour and wound like an omnibus up the steep +twisting staircase to his bedroom. + +Meanwhile Willis and Charles were proceeding to their respective homes. +For a while they had to pursue the same path, which they did in silence. +Charles had been moved far more than Bateman, or rather touched, by the +enthusiasm of his Catholic friend, though, from a difficulty in finding +language to express himself, and a fear of being carried off his legs, +he had kept his feelings to himself. When they were about to part, +Willis said to him, in a subdued tone, "You are soon going to Oxford, +dearest Reding; oh, that you were one with us! You have it in you. I +have thought of you at Mass many times. Our priest has said Mass for +you. Oh, my dear friend, quench not God's grace; listen to His call; you +have had what others have not. What you want is faith. I suspect you +have quite proof enough; enough to be converted on. But faith is a gift; +pray for that great gift, without which you cannot come to the Church; +without which," and he paused, "you cannot walk aright when you are in +the Church. And now farewell! alas, our path divides; all is easy to him +that believeth. May God give you that gift of faith, as He has given me! +Farewell again; who knows when I may see you next, and where? may it be +in the courts of the true Jerusalem, the Queen of Saints, the Holy +Roman Church, the Mother of us all!" He drew Charles to him and kissed +his cheek, and was gone before Charles had time to say a word. + +Yet Charles could not have spoken had he had ever so much opportunity. +He set off at a brisk pace, cutting down with his stick the twigs and +brambles which the pale twilight discovered in his path. It seemed as if +the kiss of his friend had conveyed into his own soul the enthusiasm +which his words had betokened. He felt himself possessed, he knew not +how, by a high superhuman power, which seemed able to push through +mountains, and to walk the sea. With winter around him, he felt within +like the spring-tide, when all is new and bright. He perceived that he +had found, what indeed he had never sought, because he had never known +what it was, but what he had ever wanted,--a soul sympathetic with his +own. He felt he was no longer alone in the world, though he was losing +that true congenial mind the very moment he had found him. Was this, he +asked himself, the communion of Saints? Alas! how could it be, when he +was in one communion and Willis in another? "O mighty Mother!" burst +from his lips; he quickened his pace almost to a trot, scaling the steep +ascents and diving into the hollows which lay between him and Boughton. +"O mighty Mother!" he still said, half unconsciously; "O mighty Mother! +I come, O mighty Mother! I come; but I am far from home. Spare me a +little; I come with what speed I may, but I am slow of foot, and not as +others, O mighty Mother!" + +By the time he had walked two miles in this excitement, bodily and +mental, he felt himself, as was not wonderful, considerably exhausted. +He slackened his pace, and gradually came to himself, but still he went +on, as if mechanically, "O mighty Mother!" Suddenly he cried, "Hallo! +where did I get these words? Willis did not use them. Well, I must be on +my guard against these wild ways. Any one can be an enthusiast; +enthusiasm is not truth ... O mighty Mother!... Alas, I know where my +heart is! but I must go by reason ... O mighty Mother!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +The time came at length for Charles to return to Oxford; but during the +last month scruples had arisen in his mind, whether, with his present +feelings, he could consistently even present himself for his +examination. No subscription was necessary for his entrance into the +schools, but he felt that the honours of the class-list were only +intended for those who were _bona fide_ adherents of the Church of +England. He laid his difficulty before Carlton, who in consequence did +his best to ascertain thoroughly his present state of mind. It seemed +that Charles had no _intention_, either now or at any future day, of +joining the Church of Rome; that he felt he could not take such a step +at present without distinct sin; that it would simply be against his +conscience to do so; that he had no feeling whatever that God called him +to do so; that he felt that nothing could justify so serious an act but +the conviction that he could not be saved in the Church to which he +belonged; that he had no such feeling; that he had no definite case +against his own Church sufficient for leaving it, nor any definite view +that the Church of Rome was the One Church of Christ:--that still he +could not help suspecting that one day he should think otherwise; he +conceived the day might come, nay would come, when he should have that +conviction which at present he had not, and which of course would be a +call on him to act upon it, by leaving the Church of England for that of +Rome; he could not tell distinctly why he so anticipated, except that +there were so many things which he thought right in the Church of Rome, +and so many which he thought wrong in the Church of England; and, +because, too, the more he had an opportunity of hearing and seeing, the +greater cause he had to admire and revere the Roman Catholic system, and +to be dissatisfied with his own. Carlton, after carefully considering +the case, advised him to go in for his examination. He acted thus, on +the one hand, as vividly feeling the changes which take place in the +minds of young men, and the difficulty of Reding foretelling his own +state of opinions two years to come; and, on the other, from the +reasonable anticipation that a contrary advice would have been the very +way to ripen his present doubts on the untenableness of Anglicanism into +conviction. + +Accordingly, his examination came off in due time; the schools were +full, he did well, and his class was considered to be secure. Sheffield +followed soon after, and did brilliantly. The list came out; Sheffield +was in the first class, Charles in the second. There is always of +necessity a good deal of accident in these matters; but in the present +case reasons enough could be given to account for the unequal success of +the two friends. Charles had lost some time by his father's death, and +family matters consequent upon it; and his virtual rustication for the +last six months had been a considerable disadvantage to him. Moreover, +though he had been a careful, persevering reader, he certainly had not +run the race for honours with the same devotion as Sheffield; nor had +his religious difficulties, particularly his late indecision about +presenting himself at all, been without their serious influence upon his +attention and his energy. As success had not been the first desire of +his soul, so failure was not his greatest misery. He would have much +preferred success; but in a day or two he found he could well endure the +want of it. + +Now came the question about his degree, which could not be taken without +subscription to the Articles. Another consultation followed with +Carlton. There was no need of his becoming a B.A. at the moment; nothing +would be gained by it; better that he should postpone the step. He had +but to go down and say nothing about it; no one would be the wiser; and +if, at the end of six months, as Carlton sanguinely anticipated, he +found himself in a more comfortable frame of mind, then let him come up, +and set all right. + +What was he to do with himself at the moment? There was little +difficulty here either, what to propose. He had better be reading with +some clergyman in the country; thus he would at once be preparing for +orders, and clearing his mind on the points which at present troubled +him; besides, he might thus have some opportunity for parochial duty, +which would have a tranquillizing and sobering effect on his mind. As to +the books to which he should give his attention, of course the choice +would rest with the clergyman who was to guide him; but for himself +Carlton would not recommend the usual works in controversy with Rome, +for which the Anglican Church was famous; rather those which are of a +positive character, which treated subjects philosophically, +historically, or doctrinally, and displayed the peculiar principles of +that Church; Hooker's great work, for instance; or Bull's _Defensio_ and +_Harmonia_, or Pearson's _Vindiciae_, or Jackson on the Creed, a noble +work; to which Laud on Tradition might be added, though its form was +controversial. Such, too, were Bingham's Antiquities, Waterland on the +Use of Antiquity, Wall on Infant Baptism, and Palmer on the Liturgy. Nor +ought he to neglect practical and devotional authors, as Bishops Taylor, +Wilson, and Horne. The most important point remained; whither was he to +betake himself? did he know of any clergyman in the country who would be +willing to receive him as a friend and a pupil? Charles thought of +Campbell, with whom he was on the best of terms; and Carlton knew enough +of him by reputation, to be perfectly sure that he could not be in safer +hands. + +Charles, in consequence, made the proposal to him, and it was accepted. +Nothing then remained for him but to pay a few bills, to pack up some +books which he had left in a friend's room, and then to bid adieu, at +least for a time, to the cloisters and groves of the University. He +quitted in June, when everything was in that youthful and fragrant +beauty which he had admired so much in the beginning of his residence +three years before. + + + + +Part III. + +CHAPTER I. + + +But now we must look forward, not back. Once before we took leave to +pass over nearly two years in the life of the subject of this narrative, +and now a second and a dreary and longer interval shall be consigned to +oblivion, and the reader shall be set down in the autumn of the year +next but one after that in which Charles took his class and did not take +his degree. + +At this time our interest is confined to Boughton and the Rectory at +Sutton. As to Melford, friend Bateman had accepted the incumbency of a +church in a manufacturing town with a district of 10,000 souls, where he +was full of plans for the introduction of the surplice and gilt +candlesticks among his people, and where, it is to be hoped, he will +learn wisdom. Willis also was gone, on a different errand: he had bid +adieu to his mother and brother soon after Charles had gone into the +schools, and now was Father Aloysius de Sancta Cruce in the Passionist +Convent of Pennington. + +One evening, at the end of September, in the year aforesaid, Campbell +had called at Boughton, and was walking in the garden with Miss Reding. +"Really, Mary," he said to her, "I don't think it does any good to keep +him. The best years of his life are going, and, humanly speaking, there +is not any chance of his changing his mind, at least till he has made a +trial of the Church of Rome. It is quite possible that experience may +drive him back." + +"It is a dreadful dilemma," she answered; "how can we even indirectly +give him permission to take so fatal a step?" + +"He is a dear, good fellow," he made reply; "he is a sterling fellow; +all this long time that he has been with me he has made no difficulties; +he has read thoroughly the books that I recommended and more, and done +whatever I told him. You know I have employed him in the parish; he has +taught the Catechism to the children, and been almoner. Poor fellow, his +health is suffering now: he sees there's no end of it, and hope deferred +makes the heart sick." + +"It is so dreadful to give any countenance to what is so very wrong," +said Mary. + +"Why, what is to be done?" answered Campbell; "and we need not +countenance it; he can't be kept in leading-strings for ever, and there +has been a kind of bargain. He wanted to make a move at the end of the +first year--I didn't think it worth while to fidget you about it--but I +quieted him. We compounded in this way: he removed his name from the +college-boards,--there was not the slightest chance of his ever signing +the Articles,--and he consented to wait another year. Now the time's +up, and more, and he is getting impatient. So it's not we who shall be +giving him countenance, it will only be his leaving us." + +"But it is so fearful," insisted Mary; "and my poor mother--I declare I +think it will be her death." + +"It will be a crushing blow, there's no doubt of that," said Campbell; +"what does she know of it at present?" + +"I hardly can tell you," answered she; "she has been informed of it +indeed distinctly a year ago; but seeing Charles so often, and he in +appearance just the same, I fear she does not realize it. She has never +spoken to me on the subject. I fancy she thinks it a scruple; +troublesome, certainly, but of course temporary." + +"I must break it to her, Mary," said Campbell. + +"Well, I think it _must_ be done," she replied, heaving a sudden sigh; +"and if so, it will be a real kindness in you to save me a task to which +I am quite unequal. But have a talk with Charles first. When it comes to +the point he may have a greater difficulty than he thinks beforehand." + +And so it was settled; and, full of care at the double commission with +which he was charged, Campbell rode back to Sutton. + +Poor Charles was sitting at an open window, looking out upon the +prospect, when Campbell entered the room. It was a beautiful landscape, +with bold hills in the distance, and a rushing river beneath him. +Campbell came up to him without his perceiving it; and, putting his hand +on his shoulder, asked his thoughts. + +Charles turned round, and smiled sadly. "I am like Moses seeing the +land," he said; "my dear Campbell, when shall the end be?" + +"That, my good Charles, of course does not rest with me," answered +Campbell. + +"Well," said he, "the year is long run out; may I go my way?" + +"You can't expect that I, or any of us, should even indirectly +countenance you in what, with all our love of you, we think a sin," said +Campbell. + +"That is as much as to say, 'Act for yourself,'" answered Charles; +"well, I am willing." + +Campbell did not at once reply; then he said, "I shall have to break it +to your poor mother; Mary thinks it will be her death." + +Charles dropped his head on the window-sill, upon his hands. "No," he +said; "I trust that she, and all of us, will be supported." + +"So do I, fervently," answered Campbell; "it will be a most terrible +blow to your sisters. My dear fellow, should you not take all this into +account? Do seriously consider the actual misery you are causing for +possible good." + +"Do you think I have not considered it, Campbell? Is it nothing for one +like me to be breaking all these dear ties, and to be losing the esteem +and sympathy of so many persons I love? Oh, it has been a most piercing +thought; but I have exhausted it, I have drunk it out. I have got +familiar with the prospect now, and am fully reconciled. Yes, I give up +home, I give up all who have ever known me, loved me, valued me, wished +me well; I know well I am making myself a by-word and an outcast." + +"Oh, my dear Charles," answered Campbell, "beware of a very subtle +temptation which may come on you here. I have meant to warn you of it +before. The greatness of the sacrifice stimulates you; you do it because +it is so much to do." + +Charles smiled. "How little you know me!" he said; "if that were the +case, should I have waited patiently two years and more? Why did I not +rush forward as others have done? _You_ will not deny that I have acted +rationally, obediently. I have put the subject from me again and again, +and it has returned." + +"I'll say nothing harsh or unkind of you, Charles," said Campbell; "but +it's a most unfortunate delusion. I wish I could make you take in the +idea that there is the chance of its _being_ a delusion." + +"Ah, Campbell, how can you forget so?" answered Charles; "don't you know +this is the very thing which has influenced me so much all along? I +said, 'Perhaps I am in a dream. Oh, that I could pinch myself and +awake!' You know what stress I laid on my change of feeling upon my dear +father's death; what I thought to be convictions before, vanished then +like a cloud. I have said to myself, 'Perhaps these will vanish too.' +But no; 'the clouds return after the rain;' they come again and again, +heavier than ever. It is a conviction rooted in me; it endures against +the prospect of loss of mother and sisters. Here I sit wasting my days, +when I might be useful in life. Why? Because this hinders me. Lately it +has increased on me tenfold. You will be shocked, but let me tell you +in confidence,--lately I have been quite afraid to ride, or to bathe, or +to do anything out of the way, lest something should happen, and I might +be taken away with a great duty unaccomplished. No, by this time I have +proved that it is a real conviction. My belief in the Church of Rome is +part of myself; I cannot act against it without acting against God." + +"It is a most deplorable state of things certainly," said Campbell, who +had begun to walk up and down the room; "that it is a delusion, I am +confident; perhaps you are to find it so, just when you have taken the +step. You will solemnly bind yourself to a foreign creed, and, as the +words part from your mouth, the mist will roll up from before your eyes, +and the truth will show itself. How dreadful!" + +"I have thought of that too," said Charles, "and it has influenced me a +great deal. It has made me shrink back. But I now believe it to be like +those hideous forms which in fairy tales beset good knights, when they +would force their way into some enchanted palace. Recollect the words in +Thalaba, 'The talisman is _faith_.' If I have good grounds for +believing, to believe is a duty; God will take care of His own work. I +shall not be deserted in my utmost need. Faith ever begins with a +venture, and is rewarded with sight." + +"Yes, my good Charles," answered Campbell; "but the question is, whether +your grounds _are_ good. What I mean is, that, _since_ they are _not_ +good, they will not avail you in the trial. You will then, too late, +find they are not good, but delusive." + +"Campbell," answered Charles, "I consider that all reason comes from +God; our grounds must at best be imperfect; but if they appear to be +sufficient after prayer, diligent search, obedience, waiting, and, in +short, doing our part, they are His voice calling us on. He it is, in +that case, who makes them seem convincing to us. I am in His hands. The +only question is, what would He have me to do? I cannot resist the +conviction which is upon me. This last week it has possessed me in a +different way than ever before. It is now so strong, that to wait longer +is to resist God. Whether I join the Catholic Church is now simply a +question of days. I wish, dear Campbell, to leave you in peace and love. +Therefore, consent; let me go." + +"Let you go!" answered Campbell; "certainly, were it the Catholic Church +to which you are going, there would be no need to ask; but 'let you go,' +how can you expect it from us when we do not think so? Think of our +case, Charles, as well as your own; throw yourself into our state of +feeling. For myself, I cannot deny, I never have concealed from you my +convictions, that the Romish Church is antichristian. She has ten +thousand gifts, she is in many respects superior to our own; but she has +a something in her which spoils all. I have no _confidence_ in her; and, +that being the case, how can I 'let you go' to her? No: it's like a +person saying, 'Let me go and hang myself;' 'let me go sleep in a +fever-ward;' 'let me jump into that well;'--how can I 'let you go'?" + +"Ah," said Charles, "that's our dreadful difference; we can't get +farther than that. _I_ think the Church of Rome the Prophet of God; +_you_, the tool of the devil." + +"I own," said Campbell, "I do think that, if you take this step, you +will find yourself in the hands of a Circe, who will change you, make a +brute of you." + +Charles slightly coloured. + +"I won't go on," added Campbell; "I pain you; it's no good; perhaps I am +making matters worse." + +Neither spoke for some time. At length Charles got up, came up to +Campbell, took his hand, and kissed it. "You have been a kind, +disinterested friend to me for two years," he said; "you have given me a +lodging under your roof; and now we are soon to be united by closer +ties. God reward you; but 'let me go, for the day breaketh.'" + +"It is hopeless!" cried Campbell; "let us part friends: I must break it +to your mother." + +In ten days after this conversation Charles was ready for his journey; +his room put to rights; his portmanteau strapped; and a gig at the door, +which was to take him the first stage. He was to go round by Boughton; +it had been arranged by Campbell and Mary that it would be best for him +not to see his mother (to whom Campbell had broken the matter at once) +till he took leave of her. It would be needless pain to both of them to +attempt an interview sooner. + +Charles leapt from the gig with a beating heart, and ran up to his +mother's room. She was sitting by the fire at her work when he entered; +she held out her hand coldly to him, and he sat down. Nothing was said +for a little while; then, without leaving off her occupation, she said, +"Well, Charles, and so you are leaving us. Where and how do you propose +to employ yourself when you have entered upon your new life?" + +Charles answered that he had not yet turned his mind to the +consideration of anything but the great step on which everything else +depended. + +There was another silence; then she said, "You won't find anywhere such +friends as you have had at home, Charles." Presently she continued, "You +have had everything in your favour, Charles; you have been blessed with +talents, advantages of education, easy circumstances; many a deserving +young man has to scramble on as he can." + +Charles answered that he was deeply sensible how much he owed in +temporal matters to Providence, and that it was only at His bidding that +he was giving them up. + +"We all looked up to you, Charles; perhaps we made too much of you; +well, God be with you; you have taken your line." + +Poor Charles said that no one could conceive what it cost him to give up +what was so very dear to him, what was part of himself; there was +nothing on earth which he prized like his home. + +"Then why do you leave us?" she said quickly; "you must have your way; +you do it, I suppose, because you like it." + +"Oh really, my dear mother," cried he, "if you saw my heart! You know in +Scripture how people were obliged in the Apostles' times to give up all +for Christ." + +"We are heathens, then," she replied; "thank you, Charles, I am obliged +to you for this;" and she dashed away a tear from her eye. + +Charles was almost beside himself; he did not know what to say; he stood +up, and leaned his elbow on the mantelpiece, supporting his head on his +hand. + +"Well, Charles," she continued, still going on with her work, "perhaps +the day will come" ... her voice faltered; "your dear father" ... she +put down her work. + +"It is useless misery," said Charles; "why should I stay? good-bye for +the present, my dearest mother. I leave you in good hands, not kinder, +but better than mine; you lose me, you gain another. Farewell for the +present; we will meet when you will, when you call; it will be a happy +meeting." + +He threw himself on his knees, and laid his cheek on her lap; she could +no longer resist him; she hung over him, and began to smooth down his +hair as she had done when he was a child. At length scalding tears began +to fall heavily upon his face and neck; he bore them for a while, then +started up, kissed her cheek impetuously, and rushed out of the room. In +a few seconds he had seen and had torn himself from his sisters, and was +in his gig again by the side of his phlegmatic driver, dancing slowly up +and down on his way to Collumpton. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The reader may ask whither Charles is going, and, though it would not be +quite true to answer that he did not know better than the said reader +himself, yet he had most certainly very indistinct notions what was +becoming of him even locally, and, like the Patriarch, "went out, not +knowing whither he went." He had never seen a Catholic priest, to know +him, in his life; never, except once as a boy, been inside a Catholic +church; he only knew one Catholic in the world, and where he was he did +not know. But he knew that the Passionists had a Convent in London; and +it was not unnatural that, without knowing whether young Father Aloysius +was there or not, he should direct his course to San Michaele. + +Yet, in kindness to Mary and all of them, he did not profess to be +leaving direct for London; but he proposed to betake himself to Carlton, +who still resided in Oxford, and to ask his advice what was to be done +under his circumstances. It seemed, too, to be interposing what they +would consider a last chance of averting what to them was so dismal a +calamity. + +To Oxford, then, he directed his course; and, having some accidental +business at Bath, he stopped there for the night, intending to continue +his journey next morning. Among other jobs, he had to get a "Garden of +the Soul," and two or three similar books which might help him in the +great preparation which awaited his arrival in London. He went into a +religious publisher's in Danvers Street with that object, and while +engaged in a back part of the shop in looking over a pile of Catholic +works, which, to the religious public, had inferior attractions to the +glittering volumes, Evangelical and Anglo-Catholic, which had possession +of the windows and principal table, he heard the shop-door open, and, on +looking round, saw a familiar face. It was that of a young clergyman, +with a very pretty girl on his arm, whom her dress pronounced to be a +bride. Love was in their eyes, joy in their voice, and affluence in +their gait and bearing. Charles had a faintish feeling come over him; +somewhat such as might beset a man on hearing a call for pork-chops when +he was sea-sick. He retreated behind a pile of ledgers and other +stationery, but they could not save him from the low, dulcet tones which +from time to time passed from one to the other. + +"Have you got some of the last Oxford reprints of standard works?" said +the bridegroom to the shopman. + +"Yes, sir; but which set did you mean? 'Selections from Old Divines,' +or, 'New Catholic Adaptations'?" + +"Oh, not the Adaptations," answered he, "they are extremely dangerous; I +mean real Church-of-England divinity--Bull, Patrick, Hooker, and the +rest of them." + +The shopman went to look them out. + +"I think it was those Adaptations, dearest," said the lady, "that the +Bishop warned us against." + +"Not the Bishop, Louisa; it was his daughter." + +"Oh, Miss Primrose, so it was," said she; "and there was one book she +recommended, what was it?" + +"Not a book, it was a speech," said White; "Mr. O'Ballaway's at Exeter +Hall; but I think we should not quite like it." + +"No, no, Henry, it _was_ a book, dear; I can't recall the name." + +"You mean Dr. Crow's 'New Refutation of Popery,' perhaps; but the +_Bishop_ recommended _that_." + +The shopman returned. "Oh, what a sweet face!" she said, looking at the +frontispiece of a little book she got hold of; "do look, Henry; whom +does it put you in mind of?" + +"Why, it's meant for St. John the Baptist," said Henry. + +"It's so like little Angelina Primrose," said she, "the hair is just +hers. I wonder it doesn't strike you." + +"It does--it does," said he, smiling at her; "but it's getting late; you +must not be out much longer in the sharp air, and you have nothing for +your throat. I have chosen my books while you have been gazing on that +little St. John." + +"I can't think who it is so like," continued she; "oh, I know; it's +Angelina's aunt, Lady Constance." + +"Come, Louisa, the horses too will suffer; we must return to our +friends." + +"Oh, there's one book, I can't recollect it; tell me what it is, Henry. +I shall be so sorry not to have got it." + +"Was it the new work on Gregorian Chants?" asked he. + +"Ah, it's true, I want it for the school-children, but it's not that." + +"Is it 'The Catholic Parsonage'?" he asked again; "or, 'Lays of the +Apostles'? or, 'The English Church older than the Roman'? or, +'Anglicanism of the Early Martyrs'? or, 'Confessions of a Pervert'? or, +'Eustace Beville'? or, 'Modified Celibacy'?" + +"No, no, no," said Louisa; "dear me, it is so stupid." + +"Well, now really, Louisa," he insisted, "you must come another time; it +won't do, dearest; it won't do." + +"Oh, I recollect," she said, "I recollect--'Abbeys and Abbots;' I want +to get some hints for improving the rectory-windows when we get home; +and our church wants, you know, a porch for the poor people. The book is +full of designs." + +The book was found and added to the rest, which had been already taken +to the carriage. "Now, Louisa," said White. "Well, dearest, there's one +more place we must call at," she made answer; "tell John to drive to +Sharp's; we can go round by the nursery--it's only a few steps out of +the way--I want to say a word to the man there about our greenhouse; +there is no good gardener in our own neighbourhood." + +"What is the good, Louisa, now?" said her husband; "we shan't be at home +this month to come;" and then, with due resignation, he directed the +coachman to the nurseryman's whom Louisa named, as he put her into the +carriage, and then followed her. + +Charles breathed freely as they went out; a severe text of Scripture +rose on his mind, but he repressed the uncharitable feeling, and turned +himself to the anxious duties which lay before him. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Nothing happened to Charles worth relating before his arrival at +Steventon next day; when, the afternoon being fine, he left his +portmanteau to follow him by the omnibus, and put himself upon the road. +If it required some courage to undertake by himself a long journey on an +all-momentous errand, it did not lessen the difficulty that that journey +took in its way a place and a person so dear to him as Oxford and +Carlton. + +He had passed through Bagley Wood, and the spires and towers of the +University came on his view, hallowed by how many tender associations, +lost to him for two whole years, suddenly recovered--recovered to be +lost for ever! There lay old Oxford before him, with its hills as gentle +and its meadows as green as ever. At the first view of that beloved +place he stood still with folded arms, unable to proceed. Each college, +each church--he counted them by their pinnacles and turrets. The silver +Isis, the grey willows, the far-stretching plains, the dark groves, the +distant range of Shotover, the pleasant village where he had lived with +Carlton and Sheffield--wood, water, stone, all so calm, so bright, they +might have been his, but his they were not. Whatever he was to gain by +becoming a Catholic, this he had lost; whatever he was to gain higher +and better, at least this and such as this he never could have again. He +could not have another Oxford, he could not have the friends of his +boyhood and youth in the choice of his manhood. He mounted the +well-known gate on the left, and proceeded down into the plain. There +was no one to greet him, to sympathize with him; there was no one to +believe he needed sympathy; no one to believe he had given up anything; +no one to take interest in him, to feel tender towards him, to defend +him. He had suffered much, but there was no one to believe that he had +suffered. He would be thought to be inflicting merely, not undergoing, +suffering. He might indeed say that he had suffered; but he would be +rudely told that every one follows his own will, and that if he had +given up Oxford, it was for a whim which he liked better than it. But +rather, there was no one to know him; he had been virtually three years +away; three years is a generation; Oxford had been his place once, but +his place knew him no more. He recollected with what awe and transport +he had at first come to the University, as to some sacred shrine; and +how from time to time hopes had come over him that some day or other he +should have gained a title to residence on one of its ancient +foundations. One night in particular came across his memory, how a +friend and he had ascended to the top of one of its many towers with the +purpose of making observations on the stars; and how, while his friend +was busily engaged with the pointers, he, earthly-minded youth, had +been looking down into the deep, gas-lit, dark-shadowed quadrangles, +and wondering if he should ever be Fellow of this or that College, which +he singled out from the mass of academical buildings. All had passed as +a dream, and he was a stranger where he had hoped to have had a home. + +He was drawing near Oxford; he saw along the road before him brisk +youths pass, two and two, with elastic tread, finishing their modest +daily walk, and nearing the city. What had been a tandem a mile back, +next crossed his field of view, shorn of its leader. Presently a stately +cap and gown loomed in the distance; he had gained the road before their +owner crossed him; it was a college-tutor whom he had known a little. +Charles expected to be recognized; but the resident passed by with that +half-conscious, uncertain gaze which seemed to have some memory of a +face which yet was strange. He had passed Folly Bridge; troops of +horsemen overtook him, talking loud, while with easy jaunty pace they +turned into their respective stables. He crossed to Christ Church, and +penetrated to Peckwater. The evening was still bright, and the gas was +lighting. Groups of young men were stationed here and there, the greater +number in hats, a few in caps, one or two with gowns in addition; some +were hallooing up to their companions at the windows of the second +story; scouts were carrying about _aeger_ dinners; pastry-cook boys were +bringing in desserts; shabby fellows with Blenheim puppies were +loitering under Canterbury Gate. Many stared, but no one knew him. He +hurried up Oriel Lane; suddenly a start and a low bow from a passer-by; +who could it be? it was a superannuated shoeblack of his college, to +whom he had sometimes given a stray shilling. He gained the High Street, +and turned down towards the Angel. What was approaching? the vision of a +proctor. Charles felt some instinctive quiverings; but it passed by him, +and did no harm. Like Kehama, he had a charmed life. And now he had +reached his inn, where he found his portmanteau all ready for him. He +chose a bedroom, and, after fully inducting himself into it, turned his +thoughts towards dinner. + +He wished to lose no time, but, if possible, to proceed to London the +following morning. It would be a great point if he could get to his +journey's end so early in the week, that by Sunday, if he was thought +worthy, he might offer up his praises for the mercies vouchsafed to him +in the great and holy communion of the Universal Church. Accordingly he +determined to make an attempt on Carlton that evening; and hoped, if he +went to his room between seven and eight, to find him returned from +Common-Room. With this intention he sallied out at about the half-hour, +gained Carlton's College, knocked at the gate, entered, passed on, up +the worn wooden steep staircase. The oak was closed; he descended, found +a servant; "Mr. Carlton was giving a dinner in Common-Room; it would +soon be over." Charles determined to wait for him. + +The servant lighted candles in the inner room, and Charles sat down at +the fire. For awhile he sat in reflection; then he looked about for +something to occupy him. His eye caught an Oxford paper; it was but a +few days old. "Let us see how the old place goes on," he said to +himself, as he took it up. He glanced from one article to another, +looking who were the University-preachers of the week, who had taken +degrees, who were public examiners, etc., etc., when his eye was +arrested by the following paragraph:-- + +"DEFECTION FROM THE CHURCH.--We understand that another victim has +lately been added to the list of those whom the venom of Tractarian +principles has precipitated into the bosom of the Sorceress of Rome. Mr. +Reding, of St. Saviour's, the son of a respectable clergyman of the +Establishment, deceased, after eating the bread of the Church all his +life, has at length avowed himself the subject and slave of an Italian +Bishop. Disappointment in the schools is said to have been the +determining cause of this infatuated act. It is reported that legal +measures are in progress for directing the penalties of the Statute of +Praemunire against all the seceders; and a proposition is on foot for +petitioning her Majesty to assign the sum thereby realized by the +Government to the erection of a 'Martyrs' Memorial' in the sister +University." + +"So," thought Charles, "the world, as usual, is beforehand with me;" and +he sat speculating about the origin of the report till he almost forgot +that he was waiting for Carlton. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +While Charles was learning in Carlton's rooms the interest which the +world took in his position and acts, he was actually furnishing a topic +of conversation to that portion of it who were Carlton's guests in the +neighbouring Common-Room. Tea and coffee had made their appearance, the +men had risen from table, and were crowding round the fire. + +"Who is that Mr. Reding spoken of in the _Gazette_ of last week?" said a +prim little man, sipping his tea with his spoon, and rising on his toes +as he spoke. + +"You need not go far for an answer," said his neighbour, and, turning to +their host, added, "Carlton, who is Mr. Reding?" + +"A very dear honest fellow," answered Carlton: "I wish we were all of us +as good. He read with me one Long Vacation, is a good scholar, and ought +to have gained his class. I have not heard of him for some time." + +"He has other friends in the room," said another: "I think," turning to +a young Fellow of Leicester, "_you_, Sheffield, were at one time +intimate with Reding?" + +"Yes," answered Sheffield; "and Vincent, of course, knows him too; he's +a capital fellow; I know him exceedingly well; what the _Gazette_ says +about him is shameful. I never met a man who cared less about success in +the schools; it was quite his _fault_." + +"That's about the truth," said another; "I met Mr. Malcolm yesterday at +dinner, and it seems he knows the family. He said that his religious +notions carried Reding away, and spoiled his reading." + +The conversation was not general; it went on in detached groups, as the +guests stood together. Nor was the subject a popular one; rather it was +either a painful or a disgusting subject to the whole party, two or +three curious and hard minds excepted, to whom opposition to Catholicism +was meat and drink. Besides, in such chance collections of men, no one +knew exactly his neighbour's opinion about it; and, as in this instance, +there were often friends of the accused or calumniated present. And, +moreover, there was a generous feeling, and a consciousness how much +seceders from the Anglican Church were giving up, which kept down any +disrespectful mention of them. + +"Are you to do much in the schools this term?" said one to another. + +"I don't know: we have two men going up, good scholars." + +"Who has come into Stretton's place?" + +"Jackson, of King's." + +"Jackson? indeed; he's strong in science, I think." + +"Very." + +"Our men know their books well, but I should not say that science is +their line." + +"Leicester sends four." + +"It will be a large class-list, from what I hear." + +"Ah! indeed! the Michaelmas paper is always a good one." + +Meanwhile the conversation was in another quarter dwelling upon poor +Charles. + +"No, depend upon it, there's more in what the _Gazette_ says than you +think. Disappointment is generally at the bottom of these changes." + +"Poor devils! they can't help it," said another, in a low voice, to his +neighbour. + +"A good riddance, anyhow," said the party addressed; "we shall have a +little peace at last." + +"Well," said the first of the two, drawing himself up and speaking in +the air, "how any educated man should--" his voice was overpowered by +the grave enunciation of a small man behind them, who had hitherto kept +silence, and now spoke with positiveness. + +He addressed himself, between the two heads which had just been talking +in private, to the group beyond them. "It's all the effect of +rationalism," he said; "the whole movement is rationalistic. At the end +of three years all those persons who have now apostatized will be +infidels." + +No one responded; at length another of the party came up to Mr. +Malcolm's acquaintance, and said, slowly, "I suppose you never heard it +hinted that there is something wrong _here_ in Mr. Reding," touching his +forehead significantly; "I have been told it's in the family." + +He was answered by a deep, powerful voice, belonging to a person who +sat in the corner; it sounded like "the great bell of Bow," as if it +ought to have closed the conversation. It said abruptly, "I respect him +uncommonly; I have an extreme respect for him. He's an honest man; I +wish others were as honest. If they were, then, as the Puseyites are +becoming Catholics, so we should see old Brownside and his clique +becoming Unitarians. But they mean to stick in." + +Most persons present felt the truth of his remark, and a silence +followed it for a while. It was broken by a clear cackling voice: "Did +you ever hear," said he, nodding his head, or rather his whole person, +as he spoke, "did you ever, Sheffield, happen to hear that this +gentleman, your friend Mr. Reding, when he was quite a freshman, had a +conversation with some _attache_ of the Popish Chapel in this place, at +the very door of it, after the men were gone down?" + +"Impossible, Fusby," said Carlton, and laughed. + +"It's quite true," returned Fusby; "I had it from the Under-Marshal, who +was passing at the moment. My eye has been on Mr. Reding for some +years." + +"So it seems," said Sheffield, "for that must have been at least, let me +see, four or five years ago." + +"Oh," continued Fusby, "there are two or three more yet to come; you +will see." + +"Why, Fusby," said Vincent, overhearing and coming up, "you are like the +three old crones in the Bride of Lammermoor, who wished to have the +straiking of the Master of Ravenswood." + +Fusby nodded his person, but made no answer. + +"Not all three at once, I hope," said Sheffield. + +"Oh, it's quite a concentration, a quintessence of Protestant feeling," +answered Vincent; "I consider _myself_ a good Protestant; but the +pleasure you have in hunting these men is quite sensual, Fusby." + +The Common-Room man here entered, and whispered to Carlton that a +stranger was waiting for him in his rooms. + +"When do your men come up?" said Sheffield to Vincent. + +"Next Saturday," answered Vincent. + +"They always come up late," said Sheffield. + +"Yes, the House met last week." + +"St. Michael's has met too," said Sheffield: "so have we." + +"We have a reason for meeting late: many of our men come from the North +and from Ireland." + +"That's no reason, with railroads." + +"I see they have begun our rail," said Vincent; "I thought the +University had opposed it." + +"The Pope in his own states has given in," said Sheffield, "so we may +well do the same." + +"Don't talk of the Pope," said Vincent, "I'm sick of the Pope." + +"The Pope?" said Fusby, overhearing; "have you heard that his Holiness +is coming to England?" + +"Oh, oh," cried Vincent, "come, I can't stand this. I must go; good +night t'you, Carlton. Where's my gown?" + +"I believe the Common-Room man has hung it up in the passage;--but you +should stop and protect me from Fusby." + +Neither did Vincent turn to the rescue, nor did Fusby profit by the +hint; so poor Carlton, with the knowledge that he was wanted in his +rooms, had to stay a good half-hour _tete-a-tete_ with the latter, while +he prosed to him _in extenso_ about Pope Sixtus XIV., the Jesuits, +suspected men in the University, Mede on the Apostasy, the Catholic +Relief Bill, Dr. Pusey's Tract on Baptism, Justification, and the +appointment of the Taylor Professors. + +At length, however, Carlton was released. He ran across the quadrangle +and up his staircase; flung open his door, and made his way to his inner +room. A person was just rising to meet him; impossible! but it was +though. "What? Reding!" he cried; "who would have thought! what a +pleasure! we were just-- ... What brings you here?" he added, in an +altered tone. Then gravely, "Reding, where are you?" + +"Not yet a Catholic," said Reding. + +There was a silence; the answer conveyed a good deal: it was a relief, +but it was an intimation. "Sit down, my dear Reding; will you have +anything? have you dined? What a pleasure to see you, old fellow! Are we +really to lose you?" They were soon in conversation on the great +subject. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"If you have made up your mind, Reding," said Carlton, "it's no good +talking. May you be happy wherever you are! You must always be yourself; +as a Romanist, you will still be Charles Reding." + +"I know I have a kind, sympathizing friend in you, Carlton. You have +always listened to me, never snubbed me except when I deserved it. You +know more about me than any one else. Campbell is a dear, good fellow, +and will soon be dearer to me still. It isn't generally known yet, but +he is to marry my sister. He has borne with me now for two years; never +been hard upon me; always been at my service when I wanted to talk with +him. But no one makes me open my heart as you do, Carlton; you sometimes +have differed from me, but you have always understood me." + +"Thank you for your kind words," answered Carlton; "but to me it is a +perfect mystery why you should leave us. I enter into your reasons: I +cannot, for the life of me, see how you come to your conclusion." + +"To me, on the other hand, Carlton, it is like two and two make four; +and you make two and two five, and are astonished that I won't agree +with you." + +"We must leave these things to a higher power," said Carlton. "I hope we +sha'n't be less friends, Reding, when you are in another communion. We +know each other; these outward things cannot change us." + +Reding sighed; he saw clearly that his change of religion, when +completed, would not fail to have an effect on Carlton's thoughts about +him, as on those of others. It could not possibly be otherwise; he was +sure himself to feel different about Carlton. + +After a while, Carlton said gently, "Is it quite impossible, Reding, +that now at the eleventh hour we may retain you? what _are_ your +grounds?" + +"Don't let us argue, dear Carlton," answered Reding; "I have done with +argument. Or, if I must say something for manners' sake, I will but tell +you that I have fulfilled your request. You bade me read the Anglican +divines; I have given a great deal of time to them, and I am embracing +that creed which alone is the scope to which they converge in their +separate teachings; the creed which upholds the divinity of tradition +with Laud, consent of Fathers with Beveridge, a visible Church with +Bramhall, dogma with Bull, the authority of the Pope with Thorndike, +penance with Taylor, prayers for the dead with Ussher, celibacy, +asceticism, ecclesiastical discipline with Bingham. I am going to a +Church, which in these, and a multitude of other points, is nearer the +Apostolic Church than any existing one; which is the continuation of the +Apostolic Church, if it has been continued at all. And _seeing_ it to be +_like_ the Apostolic Church, I _believe_ it to be the _same_. Reason has +gone first, faith is to follow." + +He stopped, and Carlton did not reply; a silence ensued, and Charles at +length broke it. "I repeat, it's no use arguing; I have made up my mind, +and been very slow about it. I have broken it to my mother, and bade her +farewell. All is determined; I cannot go back." + +"Is that a nice feeling?" said Carlton, half reproachfully. + +"Understand me," answered Reding; "I have come to my resolution with +great deliberation. It has remained on my mind as a mere intellectual +conclusion for a year or two; surely now at length without blame I may +change it into a practical resolve. But none of us can answer that those +habitual and ruling convictions, on which it is our duty to act, will +remain before our consciousness every moment, when we come into the +hurry of the world, and are assailed by inducements and motives of +various kinds. Therefore I say that the time of argument is past; I act +on a conclusion already drawn." + +"But how do you know," asked Carlton, "but what you have been +unconsciously biassed in arriving at it? one notion has possessed you, +and you have not been able to shake it off. The ability to retain your +convictions in the bustle of life is to my mind the very test, the +necessary test of their reality." + +"I do, I do retain them," answered Reding; "they are always upon me." + +"Only at times, as you have yourself confessed," objected Carlton: +"surely you ought to have a very strong conviction indeed, to set +against the mischief you are doing by a step of this kind. Consider how +many persons you are unsettling; what a triumph you are giving to the +enemies of all religion; what encouragement to the notion that there is +no such thing as truth; how you are weakening our Church. Well, all I +say is, that you should have very strong convictions to set against all +this." + +"Well," said Charles, "I grant, I maintain, that the only motive which +is sufficient to justify such an act, is the conviction that one's +salvation depends on it. Now, I speak sincerely, my dear Carlton, in +saying that I don't think I shall be saved if I remain in the English +Church." + +"Do you mean that there is no salvation in our Church?" said Carlton, +rather coldly. + +"I am talking of myself; it's not my place to judge others. I only say, +God calls _me_, and I must follow at the risk of my soul." + +"God '_calls_' you!" said Carlton; "what does that mean? I don't like +it; it's dissenting language." + +"You know it is Scripture language," answered Reding. + +"Yes, but people don't in Scripture _say_ 'I'm called;' the calling was +an act from without, the act of others, not an inward feeling." + +"But, my dear Carlton, how _is_ a person to get at truth, now, when +there can be no simple outward call?" + +"That seems to me a pretty good intimation," answered Carlton, "that we +are to remain where Providence has placed us." + +"Now this is just one of the points on which I can't get at the bottom +of the Church of England's doctrine," Reding replied. "But it's so on so +many other subjects! it's always so. Are members of the Church of +England to seek the truth, or have they it given them from the first? do +they seek it for themselves, or is it ready provided for them?" + +Carlton thought a moment, and seemed doubtful what to answer; then he +said that we must, of course, seek it. It was a part of our moral +probation to seek the truth. + +"Then don't talk to me about our position," said Charles; "I hardly +expected _you_ to make this answer; but it is what the majority of +Church-of-England people say. They tell us to seek, they give us rules +for seeking, they make us exert our private judgment; but directly we +come to any conclusion but theirs, they turn round and talk to us of our +'providential position.' But there's another thing. Tell me, supposing +we ought all to seek the truth, do you think that members of the English +Church do seek it in that way which Scripture enjoins upon all seekers? +Think how very seriously Scripture speaks of the arduousness of finding, +the labour of seeking, the duty of thirsting after the truth? I don't +believe the bulk of the English clergy, the bulk of Oxford residents, +Heads of houses, Fellows of Colleges (with all their good points, which +I am not the man to deny), have ever sought the truth. They have taken +what they found, and have used no private judgment at all. Or if they +have judged, it has been in the vaguest, most cursory way possible; or +they have looked into Scripture only to find proofs for what they were +bound to subscribe, as undergraduates getting up the Articles. Then they +sit over their wine, and talk about this or that friend who has +'seceded,' and condemn him, and" (glancing at the newspaper on the +table) "assign motives for his conduct. Yet, after all, which is the +more likely to be right,--he who has given years, perhaps, to the search +of truth, who has habitually prayed for guidance, and has taken all the +means in his power to secure it, or they, 'the gentlemen of England who +sit at home at ease'? No, no, they may talk of seeking the truth, of +private judgment, as a duty, but they have never sought, they have never +judged; they are where they are, not because it is true, but because +they find themselves there, because it is their 'providential position,' +and a pleasant one into the bargain." + +Reding had got somewhat excited; the paragraph in the newspaper had +annoyed him. But, without taking that into account, there was enough in +the circumstances in which he found himself to throw him out of his +ordinary state of mind. He was in a crisis of peculiar trial, which a +person must have felt to understand. Few men go to battle in cold blood, +or prepare without agitation for a surgical operation. Carlton, on the +other hand, was a quiet, gentle person, who was not heard to use an +excited word once a year. + +The conversation came to a stand. At length Carlton said, "I hope, dear +Reding, you are not joining the Church of Rome merely because there are +unreasonable, unfeeling persons in the Church of England." + +Charles felt that he was not showing to advantage, and that he was +giving rise to the very surmises about the motives of his conversion +which he was deprecating. + +"It is a sad thing," he said, with something of self-reproach, "to spend +our last minutes in wrangling. Forgive me, Carlton, if I have said +anything too strongly or earnestly." Carlton thought he had; he thought +him in an excited state; but it was no use telling him so; so he merely +pressed his offered hand affectionately, and said nothing. + +Presently he said, dryly and abruptly, "Reding, do you know any Roman +Catholics?" + +"No," answered Reding; "Willis indeed, but I hav'n't seen even him these +two years. It has been entirely the working of my own mind." + +Carlton did not answer at once; then he said, as dryly and abruptly as +before, "I suspect, then, you will have much to bear with when you know +them." + +"What do you mean?" asked Reding. + +"You will find them under-educated men, I suspect." + +"What do _you_ know of them?" said Reding. + +"I suspect it," answered Carlton. + +"But what's that to the purpose?" asked Charles. + +"It's a thing you should think of. An English clergyman is a gentleman; +you may have more to bear than you reckon for, when you find yourself +with men of rude minds and vulgar manners." + +"My dear Carlton, a'n't you talking of what you know nothing at all +about?" + +"Well, but you should think of it, you should contemplate it," said +Carlton; "I judge from their letters and speeches which one reads in the +papers." + +Charles thought awhile; then he said, "Certainly, I don't like many +things which are done and said by Roman Catholics just now; but I don't +see how all this can be more than a trial and a cross; I don't see how +it affects the great question." + +"No, except that you may find yourself a fish out of water," answered +Carlton; "you may find yourself in a position where you can act with no +one, where you will be quite thrown away." + +"Well," said Charles, "as to the fact, I know nothing about it; it may +be as you say, but I don't think much of your proof. In all communities +the worst is on the outside. What offends me in Catholic public +proceedings need be no measure, nay, I believe cannot be a measure, of +the inward Catholic mind. I would not judge the Anglican Church by +Exeter Hall, nay, not by Episcopal Charges. We see the interior of our +own Church, the exterior of the Church of Rome. This is not a fair +comparison." + +"But look at their books of devotion," insisted Carlton; "they can't +write English." + +Reding smiled at Carlton, and slowly shook his head to and fro, while he +said, "They write English, I suppose, as classically as St. John writes +Greek." + +Here again the conversation halted, and nothing was heard for a while +but the simmering of the kettle. + +There was no good in disputing, as might be seen from the first; each +had his own view, and that was the beginning and the end of the matter. +Charles stood up. "Well, dearest Carlton," he said, "we must part; it +must be going on for eleven." He pulled out of his pocket a small +"Christian Year." "You have often seen me with this," he continued, +"accept it in memory of me. You will not see me, but here is a pledge +that I will not forget you, that I will ever remember you." He stopped, +much affected. "Oh, it is very hard to leave you all, to go to +strangers," he went on; "I do not wish it, but I cannot help it; I am +called, I am compelled." He stopped again; the tears flowed down his +cheeks. "All is well," he said, recovering himself, "all is well; but +it's hard at the time, and scarcely any one to feel for me; black looks, +bitter words.... I am pleasing myself, following my own will ... +well...." and he began looking at his fingers and slowly rubbing his +palms one on another. "It must be," he whispered to himself, "through +tribulation to the kingdom, sowing in tears, reaping in joy...." Another +pause, and a new train of thought came over him; "Oh," he said, "I fear +so very much, so very much, that all you who do not come forward will go +back. You cannot stand where you are; for a time you will think you do, +then you will oppose us, and still think you keep your ground while you +use the same words as before; but your belief, your opinions will +decline. You will hold less. And then, in time, it will strike you that, +in differing with Protestants, you are contending only about words. They +call us Rationalists; take care you don't fall into Liberalism. And now, +my dearest Carlton, my one friend in Oxford who was patient and loving +towards me, good-bye. May we meet not long hence in peace and joy. I +cannot go to you; you must come to me." + +They embraced each other affectionately; and the next minute Charles was +running down the staircase. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Charles went to bed with a bad headache, and woke with a worse. Nothing +remained but to order his bill and be off for London. Yet he could not +go without taking a last farewell of the place itself. He was up soon +after seven; and while the gownsmen were rising and in their respective +chapels, he had been round Magdalen Walk and Christ Church Meadow. There +were few or none to see him wherever he went. The trees of the Water +Walk were variegated, as beseemed the time of year, with a thousand +hues, arching over his head, and screening his side. He reached +Addison's Walk; there he had been for the first time with his father, +when he was coming into residence, just six years before to a day. He +pursued it, and onwards still, till he came round in sight of the +beautiful tower, which at length rose close over his head. The morning +was frosty, and there was a mist; the leaves flitted about; all was in +unison with the state of his feelings. He re-entered the monastic +buildings, meeting with nothing but scouts with boxes of cinders, and +old women carrying off the remains of the kitchen. He crossed to the +Meadow, and walked steadily down to the junction of the Cherwell with +the Isis; he then turned back. What thoughts came upon him! for the last +time! There was no one to see him; he threw his arms round the willows +so dear to him, and kissed them; he tore off some of their black leaves +and put them in his bosom. "I am like Undine," he said, "killing with a +kiss. No one cares for me; scarce a person knows me." He neared the Long +Walk again. Suddenly, looking obliquely into it, he saw a cap and gown; +he looked anxiously; it was Jennings: there was no mistake; and his +direction was towards him. Charles always had felt kindly towards him, +in spite of his sternness, but he would not meet him for the world; what +was he to do? he stood behind a large elm, and let him pass; then he set +off again at a quick pace. When he had got some way, he ventured to turn +his head round; and he saw Jennings at the moment, by that sort of +fatality or sympathy which is so common, turning round towards him. He +hurried on, and soon found himself again at his inn. + +Strange as it may seem, though he had on the whole had as good success +as Carlton in the "keen encounter of their wits" the night before, it +had left an unsatisfactory effect on his mind. The time for action was +come; argument was past, as he had himself said; and to recur to +argument was only to confuse the clearness of his apprehension of the +truth. He began to question whether he really had evidence enough for +the step he was taking, and the temptation assailed him that he was +giving up this world without gaining the next. Carlton evidently thought +him excited; what if it were true? Perhaps his convictions were, after +all, a dream; what did they rest upon? He tried to recall his best +arguments, and could not. Was there, after all, any such thing as truth? +Was not one thing as good as another? At all events, could he not have +served God well in his generation, where he had been placed? He +recollected some lines in the Ethics of Aristotle, quoted by the +philosopher from an old poet, in which the poor outcast Philoctetes +laments over his own stupid officiousness, as he calls it, which had +been the cause of his misfortunes. Was he not a busybody too? Why could +he not let well alone? Better men than he had lived and died in the +English Church. And then what if, as Campbell had said, all his +so-called convictions were to vanish just as he entered the Roman pale, +as they had done on his father's death? He began to envy Sheffield; all +had turned out well with him--a good class, a fellowship, merely or +principally because he had taken things as they came, and not gone +roaming after visions. He felt himself violently assaulted; but he was +not deserted, not overpowered. His good sense, rather his good Angel, +came to his aid; evidently he was in no way able to argue or judge at +that moment; the deliberate conclusions of years ought not to be set +aside by the troubled thoughts of an hour. With an effort he put the +whole subject from him, and addressed himself to his journey. + +How he got to Steventon he hardly recollected; but gradually he came to +himself, and found himself in a first-class of the Great Western, +proceeding rapidly towards London. He then looked about him to +ascertain who his fellow-travellers were. The farther compartment was +full of passengers, who seemed to form one party, talking together with +great volubility and glee. Of the three seats in his own part of the +carriage, one only, that opposite to him, was filled. On taking a survey +of the stranger, he saw a grave person passing or past the middle age; +his face had that worn, or rather that unplacid appearance, which even +slight physical suffering, if habitual, gives to the features, and his +eyes were pale from study or other cause. Charles thought he had seen +his face before, but he could not recollect where or when. But what most +interested him was his dress and appearance, which was such as is rarely +found in a travelling-companion. It was of an unusual character, and, +taken together with the small office-book he held in his hand, plainly +showed Charles that he was opposite a Roman ecclesiastic. His heart +beat, and he felt tempted to start from his seat; then a sick feeling +and a sinking came over him. He gradually grew calmer, and journeyed on +some time in silence, longing yet afraid to speak. At length, on the +train stopping at the station, he addressed a few words to him in +French. His companion looked surprised, smiled, and in a hesitating, +saddish voice said that he was an Englishman. Charles made an awkward +apology, and there was silence again. Their eyes sometimes met, and then +moved slowly off each other, as if a mutual reconnoitring was in +progress. At length it seemed to strike the stranger that he had +abruptly stopped the conversation; and, after apparently beating about +for an introductory topic, he said, "Perhaps I can read you, sir, better +than you can me. You are an Oxford man by your appearance." + +Charles assented. + +"A bachelor?" He was of near Master's standing. His companion, who did +not seem in a humour for talking, proceeded to various questions about +the University, as if out of civility. What colleges sent Proctors that +year? Were the Taylor Professors appointed? Were they members of the +Church of England? Did the new Bishop of Bury keep his Headship? &c., +&c. Some matter-of-fact conversation followed, which came to nothing. +Charles had so much to ask; his thoughts were busy, and his mind full. +Here was a Catholic priest ready for his necessities; yet the +opportunity was likely to pass away, and nothing to come of it. After +one or two fruitless efforts, he gave it up, and leant back in his seat. +His fellow-traveller began, as quietly as he could, to say office. Time +went forward, the steam was let off and put on; the train stopped and +proceeded, and the office was apparently finished; the book vanished in +a side-pocket. + +After a time Charles suddenly said, "How came you to suppose I was of +Oxford?" + +"Not _entirely_ by your look and manner, for I saw you jump from the +omnibus at Steventon; but with that assistance it was impossible to +mistake." + +"I have heard others say the same," said Charles; "yet I can't myself +make out how an Oxford man should be known from another." + +"Not only Oxford men, but Cambridge men, are known by their appearance; +soldiers, lawyers, beneficed clergymen; indeed every class has its +external indications to those who can read them." + +"I know persons," said Charles, "who believe that handwriting is an +indication of calling and character." + +"I do not doubt it," replied the priest; "the gait is another; but it is +not all of us who can read so recondite a language. Yet a language it +is, as really as hieroglyphics on an obelisk." + +"It is a fearful thought," said Charles with a sigh, "that we, as it +were, exhale ourselves every breath we draw." + +The stranger assented; "A man's moral self," he said, "is concentrated +in each moment of his life; it lives in the tips of his fingers, and the +spring of his insteps. A very little thing tries what a man is made of." + +"I think I must be speaking to a Catholic priest?" said Charles: when +his question was answered in the affirmative, he went on hesitatingly to +ask if what they had been speaking of did not illustrate the importance +of faith? "One did not see at first sight," he said, "how it was +rational to maintain that so much depended on holding this or that +doctrine, or a little more or a little less, but it might be a test of +the heart." + +His companion looked pleased; however, he observed, that "there was no +'more or less' in faith; that either we believed the whole revealed +message, or really we believed no part of it; that we ought to believe +what the Church proposed to us on the _word_ of the Church." + +"Yet surely the so-called Evangelical believes more than the Unitarian, +and the High-Churchman than the Evangelical," objected Charles. + +"The question," said his fellow-traveller, "is, whether they submit +their reason implicitly to that which they have received as God's word." + +Charles assented. + +"Would you say, then," he continued, "that the Unitarian really believes +as God's word that which he professes to receive, when he passes over +and gets rid of so much that is in that word?" + +"Certainly not," said Charles. + +"And why?" + +"Because it is plain," said Charles, "that his ultimate standard of +truth is not the Scripture, but, unconsciously to himself, some view of +things in his mind which is to him the measure of Scripture." + +"Then he believes himself, if we may so speak," said the priest, "and +not the external word of God." + +"Certainly." + +"Well, in like manner," he continued, "do you think a person can have +real faith in that which he admits to be the word of God, who passes by, +without attempting to understand, such passages as 'the Church the +pillar and ground of the truth;' or, 'whosesoever sins ye forgive, they +are forgiven;' or, 'if any man is sick, let him call for the priests of +the Church, and let them anoint him with oil'?" + +"No," said Charles; "but, in fact, _we_ do not profess to have faith in +the mere text of Scripture. You know, sir," he added hesitatingly, "that +the Anglican doctrine is to interpret Scripture by the Church; therefore +we have faith, like Catholics, not in Scripture simply, but in the whole +word committed to the Church, of which Scripture is a part." + +His companion smiled: "How many," he asked, "so profess? But, waiving +this question, I understand what a Catholic means by saying that he goes +by the voice of the Church; it means, practically, by the voice of the +first priest he meets. Every priest is the voice of the Church. This is +quite intelligible. In matters of doctrine, he has faith in the word of +any priest. But what, where, is that 'word' of the Church which the +persons you speak of believe in? and when do they exercise their belief? +Is it not an undeniable fact, that, so far from all Anglican clergymen +agreeing together in faith, what the first says, the second will unsay? +so that an Anglican cannot, if he would, have faith in them, and +necessarily, though he would not, chooses between them. How, then, has +faith a place in the religion of an Anglican?" + +"Well," said Charles, "I am sure I know a good many persons--and if you +knew the Church of England as I do, you would not need me to tell +you--who, from knowledge of the Gospels, have an absolute conviction and +an intimate sense of the reality of the sacred facts contained in them, +which, whether you call it faith or not, is powerful enough to colour +their whole being with its influence, and rules their heart and conduct +as well as their imagination. I can't believe that these persons are +out of God's favour; yet, according to your account of the matter, they +have not faith." + +"Do you think these persons believe and practise all that is brought +home to them as being in Scripture?" asked his companion. + +"Certainly they do," answered Charles, "as far as man can judge." + +"Then perhaps they may be practising the virtue of faith; if there are +passages in it to which they are insensible, as about the sacraments, +penance, and extreme unction, or about the See of Peter, I should in +charity think that these passages had never been brought home or applied +to their minds and consciences--just as a Pope's Bull may be for a time +unknown in a distant part of the Church. They may be[1] in involuntary +ignorance. Yet I fear that, taking the whole nation, there are few who +on this score can lay claim to faith." + + [1] "Errantes invincibiliter circa aliquos articulos, et + credentes alios, non sunt formaliter haeretici, sed habent fidem + supernaturalem, qua credunt veros articulos, atque adeo ex ea + possunt procedere actus perfectae contritionis, quibus justificentur + et salventur."--_De Lugo de Fid._, p. 169. + +Charles said this did not fully meet the difficulty; faith, in the case +of these persons, at least was not faith in the word of the Church. His +companion would not allow this; he said they received the Scripture on +the testimony of the Church, that at least they were believing the word +of God, and the like. + +Presently Charles said, "It is to me a great mystery how the English +people, as a whole, is ever to have faith again; is there evidence +enough for faith?" + +His new friend looked surprised and not over-pleased; "Surely," he said, +"in matter of fact, a man may have more _evidence_ for believing the +Church to be the messenger of God, than he has for believing the four +Gospels to be from God. If, then, he already believes the latter, why +should he not believe the former?" + +"But the belief in the Gospels is a traditional belief," said Charles; +"that makes all the difference. I cannot see how a nation like England, +which has lost the faith, ever can recover it. Hence, in the matter of +conversion, Providence has generally visited simple and barbarous +nations." + +"The converts of the Roman Empire were, I suppose, a considerable +exception," said the priest. + +"Still, it seems to me a great difficulty," answered Charles; "I do not +see, when the dogmatic structure is once broken down, how it is ever to +be built up again. I fancy there is a passage somewhere in Carlyle's +'French Revolution' on the subject, in which the author laments over the +madness of men's destroying what they could not replace, what it would +take centuries and a strange combination of fortunate circumstances to +reproduce, an external received creed. I am not denying, God forbid! the +objectivity of revelation, or saying that faith is a sort of happy and +expedient delusion; but, really, the evidence for revealed doctrine is +so built up on probabilities that I do not see what is to introduce it +into a civilized community, where reason has been cultivated to the +utmost, and argument is the test of truth. Many a man will say, 'Oh, +that I had been educated a Catholic!' but he has not so been; and he +finds himself unable, though wishing, to believe, for he has not +evidence enough to subdue his reason. What is to make him believe?" + +His fellow-traveller had for some time shown signs of uneasiness; when +Charles stopped, he said, shortly, but quietly, "What is to make him +believe! the _will_, his _will_." + +Charles hesitated; he proceeded; "If there is evidence enough to believe +Scripture, and we see that there is, I repeat, there is more than enough +to believe the Church. The evidence is not in fault; all it requires is +to be brought home or applied to the mind; if belief does not then +follow, the fault lies with the will." + +"Well," said Charles, "I think there is a general feeling among educated +Anglicans, that the claims of the Roman Church do not rest on a +sufficiently intellectual basis; that the evidences, or notes, were well +enough for a rude age, not for this. This is what makes me despair of +the growth of Catholicism." + +His companion looked round curiously at him, and then said, quietly, +"Depend upon it, there is quite evidence enough for a _moral conviction_ +that the Catholic or Roman Church, and none other, is the voice of God." + +"Do you mean," said Charles, with a beating heart, "that before +conversion one can attain to a present abiding actual conviction of this +truth?" + +"I do not know," answered the other; "but, at least, he may have +habitual _moral certainty_; I mean, a conviction, and one only, steady, +without rival conviction, or even reasonable doubt, present to him when +he is most composed and in his hours of solitude, and flashing on him +from time to time, as through clouds, when he is in the world;--a +conviction to this effect, 'The Roman Catholic Church is the one only +voice of God, the one only way of salvation.'" + +"Then you mean to say," said Charles, while his heart beat faster, "that +such a person is under no duty to wait for clearer light." + +"He will not have, he cannot expect, clearer light before conversion. +Certainty, in its highest sense, is the reward of those who, by an act +of the will, and at the dictate of reason and prudence, embrace the +truth, when nature, like a coward, shrinks. You must make a venture; +faith is a venture before a man is a Catholic; it is a gift after it. +You approach the Church in the way of reason, you enter into it in the +light of the Spirit." + +Charles said that he feared there was a great temptation operating on +many well-informed and excellent men, to find fault with the evidence +for Catholicity, and to give over the search, on the excuse that there +were arguments on both sides. + +"It is not one set of men," answered his companion; "it is the grievous +deficiency in Englishmen altogether. Englishmen have many gifts, faith +they have not. Other nations, inferior to them in many things, still +have faith. Nothing will stand in place of it; not a sense of the beauty +of Catholicism, or of its awfulness, or of its antiquity; not an +appreciation of the sympathy which it shows towards sinners: not an +admiration of the Martyrs and early Fathers, and a delight in their +writings. Individuals may display a touching gentleness, or a +conscientiousness which demands our reverence; still, till they have +faith, they have not the foundation, and their superstructure will fall. +They will not be blessed, they will effect nothing in religious matters, +till they begin by an act of unreserved faith in the word of God, +whatever it be; till they go out of themselves; till they cease to make +something within them their standard, till they oblige their will to +perfect what reason leaves sufficient, indeed, but incomplete. And when +they shall recognize this defect in themselves, and try to remedy it, +then they will recognize much more;--they will be on the road very +shortly to be Catholics." + +There was nothing in all this exactly new to Reding; but it was pleasant +to hear it from the voice of another, and him a priest. Thus he had +sympathy and authority, and felt he was restored to himself. The +conversation stopped. After a while he disclosed to his new friend the +place for which he was bound, which, after what Charles had already been +saying, could be no great surprise to him. The latter knew the Superior +of San Michaele, and, taking out a card, wrote upon it a few words of +introduction for him. By this time they had reached Paddington; and +scarcely had the train stopped, when the priest took his small +carpet-bag from under his seat, wrapped his cloak around him, stepped +out of the carriage, and was walking out of sight at a brisk pace. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Reding naturally wished to take the important step he was meditating as +quietly as he could; and had adopted what he considered satisfactory +measures for this purpose. But such arrangements often turn out very +differently from their promise; and so it was in his case. + +The Passionist House was in the eastern part of London; so far +well;--and as he knew in the neighbourhood a respectable publisher in +the religious line, with whom his father had dealt, he had written to +him to bespeak a room in his house for the few days which he trusted +would suffice for the process of his reception. What was to happen to +him after it, he left for the advice he might get from those in whose +hands he found himself. It was now Wednesday; he hoped to have two days +to prepare himself for his confession, and then he proposed to present +himself before those who were to receive it. His better plan would have +been to have gone to the Religious House at once, where doubtless the +good fathers would have lodged him, secured him from intrusion, and +given him the best advice how to proceed. But we must indulge him, if, +doing so great a work, he likes to do it in his own way; nor must we be +hard on him, though it be not the best way. + +On arriving at his destination, he saw in the deportment of his host +grounds for concluding that his coming was not only expected, but +understood. Doubtless, then, the paragraph of the _Oxford Gazette_ had +been copied into the London papers; nor did it relieve his unpleasant +surprise to find, as he passed to his room, that the worthy bibliopolist +had a reading-room attached to his shop, which was far more perilous to +his privacy than a coffee-room would have been. He was not obliged, +however, to mix with the various parties who seemed to frequent it; and +he determined as far as possible to confine himself to his apartment. +The rest of the day he employed in writing letters to friends: his +conversation of the morning had tranquillized him; he went to bed +peaceful and happy, slept soundly, rose late, and, refreshed in mind and +body, turned his thoughts to the serious duties of the day. + +Breakfast over, he gave a considerable time to devotional exercises, and +then, opening his writing-desk, addressed himself to his work. Hardly +had he got into it when his landlord made his appearance; and, with many +apologies for his intrusion, and a hope that he was not going to be +impertinent, proceeded to inquire if Mr. Reding was a Catholic. "The +question had been put to him, and he thought he might venture to solicit +an answer from the person who could give the most authentic +information." Here was an interruption, vexatious in itself, and +perplexing in the form in which it came upon him; it would be absurd to +reply that he was on the point of _becoming_ a Catholic, so he shortly +answered in the negative. Mr. Mumford then informed him that there were +two friends of Mr. Reding's below, who wished very much to have a few +minutes' conversation with him. Charles could make no intelligible +objection to the request; and in the course of a few minutes their knock +was heard at the room-door. + +On his answering it, two persons presented themselves, apparently both +strangers to him. This, however, at the moment was a relief; for vague +fears and surmises had begun to flit across his mind as to the faces +which were to make their appearance. The younger of the two, who had +round full cheeks, with a boyish air, and a shrill voice, advanced +confidently, and seemed to expect a recognition. It broke upon Charles +that he had seen him before, but he could not tell where. "I ought to +know your face," he said. + +"Yes, Mr. Reding," answered the person addressed, "you may recollect me +at College." + +"Ah, I remember perfectly," said Reding; "Jack the kitchen-boy at St. +Saviour's." + +"Yes," said Jack; "I came when young Tom was promoted into Dennis's +place." + +Then he added, with a solemn shake of the head, "_I_ have got promotion +now." + +"So it seems, Jack," answered Reding; "but what are you? Speak." + +"Ah, sir," said Jack, "we must converse in a tone of befitting +seriousness;" and he added, in a deep inarticulate voice, his lips not +being suffered to meet together, "Sir, I stand next to an Angel now." + +"A what? Angel? Oh, I know," cried Charles, "it's some sect; the +Sandemanians." + +"Sandemanians!" interrupted Jack; "we hold them in abhorrence; they are +levellers; they bring in disorder and every evil work." + +"I beg pardon, but I know it is some sect, though I don't recollect +what. I've heard about it. Well, tell me, Jack, what are you?" + +"I am," answered Jack, as if he were confessing at the tribunal of a +Propraetor, "I am a member of the Holy Catholic Church." + +"That's right, Jack," said Reding; "but it's not distinctive enough; so +are we all; every one will say as much." + +"Hear me out, Mr. Reding, sir," answered Jack, waving his hand; "hear +me, but strike; I repeat, I am a member of the Holy Catholic Church, +assembling in Huggermugger Lane." + +"Ah," said Charles, "I see; that's what the 'gods' call you; now, what +do men?" + +"Men," said Jack, not understanding, however, the allusion--"men call us +Christians, professing the opinions of the late Rev. Edward Irving, +B.D." + +"I understand perfectly now," said Reding; "Irvingites--I recollect." + +"No, sir," he said, "not Irvingites; we do not follow man; we follow +wherever the Spirit leads us; we have given up Tongue. But I ought to +introduce you to my friend, who is more than an Angel," he proceeded +modestly, "who has more than the tongue of men and angels, being nothing +short of an Apostle, sir. Mr. Reding, here's the Rev. Alexander +Highfly. Mr. Highfly, this is Mr. Reding." + +Mr. Highfly was a man of gentlemanlike appearance and manner; his +language was refined, and his conduct was delicate; so much so that +Charles at once changed his tone in speaking to him. He came to Mr. +Reding, he said, from a sense of duty; and there was nothing in his +conversation to clash with that profession. He explained that he had +heard of Mr. Reding's being unsettled in his religious views, and he +would not lose the opportunity of attempting so valuable an accession to +the cause to which he had dedicated himself. + +"I see," said Charles, smiling, "I am in the market." + +"It is the bargain of Glaucus with Diomede," answered Mr. Highfly, "for +which I am asking your co-operation. I am giving you the fellowship of +Apostles." + +"It is, I recollect, one of the characteristics of your body," said +Charles, "to have an order of Apostles, in addition to Bishops, Priests, +and Deacons." + +"Rather," said his visitor, "it is the special characteristic; for we +acknowledge the orders of the Church of England. We are but completing +the Church system by restoring the Apostolic College." + +"What I should complain of," said Charles, "were I at all inclined to +listen to your claims, would be the very different views which different +members of your body put forward." + +"You must recollect, sir," answered Mr. Highfly, "that we are under +Divine teaching, and that truth is but gradually communicated to the +Church. We do not pledge ourselves what we shall believe to-morrow by +anything we say to-day." + +"Certainly," answered Reding, "things have been said to me by your +teachers which I must suppose were only private opinions, though they +seemed to be more." + +"But I was saying," said Mr. Highfly, "that at present we are restoring +the Gentile Apostolate. The Church of England has Bishops, Priests, and +Deacons, but a Scriptural Church has more; it is plain it ought to have +Apostles. In Scripture Apostles had the supreme authority, and the three +Anglican orders were but subordinate to them." + +"I am disposed to agree with you there," said Charles. Mr. Highfly +looked surprised and pleased. "We are restoring," he said, "the Church +to a more Scriptural state; perhaps, then, we may reckon on your +co-operation in doing so? We do not ask you to secede from the +Establishment, but to acknowledge the Apostolic authority to which all +ought to submit." + +"But does it not strike you, Mr. Highfly," answered Reding, "that there +_is_ a body of Christians, and not an inconsiderable one, which +maintains with you, and, what is more, has always preserved, that true +and higher Apostolic succession in the Church; a body, I mean, which, in +addition to Episcopacy, believes that there is a standing ordinance +above Episcopacy, and gives it the name of the Apostolate?" + +"On the contrary," answered Mr. Highfly, "I consider that we are +restoring what has lain dormant ever since the time of St. Paul; nay, I +will say it is an ordinance which never has been carried into effect at +all, though it was in the Divine design from the first. You will observe +that the Apostles were Jews; but there never has been a Gentile +Apostolate. St. Paul indeed was Apostle of the Gentiles, but the design +begun in him has hitherto been frustrated. He went up to Jerusalem +against the solemn warning of the Spirit; now we are raised up to +complete that work of the Spirit, which was stopped by the inadvertence +of the first Apostle." + +Jack interposed: he should be very glad, he said, to know what religious +persuasion it was, besides his own, which Mr. Reding considered to have +preserved the succession of Apostles as something distinct from Bishops. + +"It is quite plain whom I mean--The Catholics," answered Charles. "The +Popedom is the true Apostolate, the Pope is the successor of the +Apostles, particularly of St. Peter." + +"We are very well inclined to the Roman Catholics," answered Mr. +Highfly, with some hesitation; "we have adopted a great part of their +ritual; but we are not accustomed to consider that we resemble them in +what is our characteristic and cardinal tenet." + +"Allow me to say it, Mr. Highfly," said Reding, "it is a reason why +every Irvingite--I mean every member of your denomination--should become +a Catholic. Your own religious sense has taught you that there ought to +be an Apostolate in the Church. You consider that the authority of the +Apostles was not temporary, but essential and fundamental. What that +authority was, we see in St. Paul's conduct towards St. Timothy. He +placed him in the see of Ephesus, he sent him a charge, and, in fact, he +was his overseer or Bishop. He had the care of all the Churches. Now, +this is precisely the power which the Pope claims, and has ever claimed; +and, moreover, he has claimed it, as being the _successor_, and the sole +proper successor of the Apostles, though Bishops may be improperly such +also.[2] And hence Catholics call him Vicar of Christ, Bishop of +Bishops, and the like; and, I believe, consider that he, in a +pre-eminent sense, is the one pastor or ruler of the Church, the source +of jurisdiction, the judge of controversies, and the centre of unity, as +having the powers of the Apostles, and specially of St. Peter." + + [2] "Successores sunt, sed ita ut potius Vicarii dicendi sint + Apostolorum, quam successores; contra, Romanus Pontifex, quia verus + Petri successor est, nonnisi per quendam abusum ejus vicarius + diceretur."--Zaccar. _Antifebr._, p. 130. + +Mr. Highfly kept silence. + +"Don't you think, then, it would be well," continued Charles, "that, +before coming to convert me, you should first join the Catholic Church? +at least, you would urge your doctrine upon me with more authority if +you came as a member of it. And I will tell you frankly, that you would +find it easier to convert me to Catholicism than to your present +persuasion." + +Jack looked at Mr. Highfly, as if hoping for some decisive reply to what +was a new view to him; but Mr. Highfly took a different line. "Well, +sir," he said, "I do not see that any good will come by our continuing +the interview; but your last remark leads me to observe that +_proselytism_ was not our object in coming here. We did not propose more +than to _inform_ you that a great work was going on, to direct your +attention to it, and to invite your co-operation. We do not controvert; +we only wish to deliver our testimony, and there to leave the matter. I +believe, then, we need not take up your valuable time longer." With that +he got up, and Jack with him, and, with many courteous bows and smiles, +which were duly responded to by Reding, the two visitors took their +departure. + +"Well, I might have been worse off," thought Reding; "really they are +gentle, well-mannered creatures, after all. I might have been attacked +by some of your furious Exeter-Hall beasts; but now to business.... +What's that?" he added. Alas, it was a soft, distinct tap at the door; +there was no mistake. "Who's there? come in!" he cried; upon which the +door gently opened, and a young lady, not without attractions of person +and dress, presented herself. Charles started up with vexation; but +there was no help for it, and he was obliged to hand her a chair, and +then to wait, all expectation, or rather all impatience, to be informed +of her mission. For a while she did not speak, but sat, with her head on +one side, looking at her parasol, the point of which she fixed on the +carpet, while she slowly described a circumference with the handle. At +length she asked, without raising her eyes, whether it was true--and she +spoke slowly and in what is called a spiritual tone--whether it was +true, the information had been given her, that Mr. Reding, the +gentleman she had the honour of addressing--whether it was true, that he +was in search of a religion more congenial to his feelings than that of +the Church of England? "Mr. Reding could not give her any satisfaction +on the subject of her inquiry;"--he answered shortly, and had some +difficulty in keeping from rudeness in his tone. The interrogation, she +went on to say, perhaps might seem impertinent; but she had a motive. +Some dear sisters of hers were engaged in organizing a new religious +body, and Mr. Reding's accession, counsel, assistance, would be +particularly valuable; the more so, because as yet they had not any +gentleman of University education among them. + +"May I ask," said Charles, "the name of the intended persuasion?" + +"The name," she answered, "is not fixed; indeed, this is one of the +points on which we should covet the privilege of the advice of a +gentleman so well qualified as Mr. Reding to assist us in our +deliberations." + +"And your tenets, ma'am?" + +"Here, too," she replied, "there is much still to be done; the tenets +are not fixed either, that is, they are but sketched; and we shall prize +your suggestions much. Nay, you will of course have the opportunity, as +you would have the right, to nominate any doctrine to which you may be +especially inclined." + +Charles did not know how to answer to so liberal an offer. + +She continued: "Perhaps it is right, Mr. Reding, that I should tell you +something more about myself personally. I was born in the communion of +the Church of England; for a while I was a member of the New Connexion; +and after that," she added, still with drooping head and languid +sing-song voice, "after that, I was a Plymouth brother." It got too +absurd; and Charles, who had for an instant been amused, now became full +of the one thought, how to get her out of the room. + +It was obviously left to her to keep up the conversation: so she said +presently, "We are all for a pure religion." + +"From what you tell me," said Charles, "I gather that every member of +your new community is allowed to name one or two doctrines of his own." + +"We are all scriptural," she made answer, "and therefore are all one; we +may differ, but we agree. Still it is so, as you say, Mr. Reding. I'm +for election and assurance; our dearest friend is for perfection; and +another sweet sister is for the second advent. But we desire to include +among us all souls who are thirsting after the river of life, whatever +their personal views. I believe you are partial to sacraments and +ceremonies?" + +Charles tried to cut short the interview by denying that he had any +religion to seek after, or any decision to make; but it was easier to +end the conversation than the visit. He threw himself back in his chair +in despair, and half closed his eyes. "Oh, those good Irvingites," he +thought, "blameless men, who came only to protest, and vanished at the +first word of opposition; but now thrice has the church-clock struck the +quarters since her entrance, and I don't see why she's not to stop here +as long as it goes on striking, since she has stopped so long. She has +not in her the elements of progress and decay. She'll never die; what is +to become of me?" + +Nor was she doomed to find a natural death; for, when the case seemed +hopeless, a noise was heard on the staircase, and, with scarcely the +apology for a knock, a wild gawky man made his appearance, and at once +cried out, "I hope, sir, it's not a bargain yet; I hope it's not too +late; discharge this young woman, Mr. Reding, and let me teach you the +old truth, which never has been repealed." + +There was no need of discharging her; for as kindly as she had unfolded +her leaves and flourished in the sun of Reding's forbearance, so did she +at once shrink and vanish--one could hardly tell how--before the rough +accents of the intruder; and Charles suddenly found himself in the hands +of a new tormentor. "This is intolerable," he said to himself; and, +jumping up, he cried, "Sir, excuse me, I am particularly engaged this +morning, and I must beg to decline the favour of your visit." + +"What did you say, sir?" said the stranger; and, taking a note-book and +a pencil from his pocket, he began to look up in Charles's face and +write down his words, saying half aloud, as he wrote, "Declines the +favour of my visit." Then he looked up again, keeping his pencil upon +his paper, and said, "Now, sir." + +Reding moved towards him, and, spreading his arms as one drives sheep +and poultry in one direction, he repeated, looking towards the door, +"Really, sir, I feel the honour of your call; but another day, sir, +another day. It is too much, too much." + +"Too much?" said the intruder; "and I waiting below so long! That dainty +lady has been good part of an hour here, and now you can't give me five +minutes, sir." + +"Why, sir," answered Charles, "I am sure you are come on an errand as +fruitless as hers; and I am sick of these religious discussions, and +want to be to myself, and to save you trouble." + +"Sick of religions discussions," said the stranger to himself, as he +wrote down the words in his note-book. Charles did not deign to notice +his act or to explain his own expression; he stood prepared to renew his +action of motioning him to the door. His tormentor then said, "You may +like to know my name; it is Zerubbabel." + +Vexed as Reding was, he felt that he had no right to visit the +tediousness of his former visitor upon his present; so he forced himself +to reply, "Zerubbabel; indeed; and is Zerubbabel your Christian name, +sir, or your surname?" + +"It is both at once, Mr. Reding," answered Zerubbabel, "or rather, I +have no Christian name, and Zerubbabel is my one Jewish designation." + +"You are come, then, to inquire whether I am likely to become a Jew." + +"Stranger things have happened," answered his visitor; "for instance, I +myself was once a deacon in the Church of England." + +"Then you are not a Jew?" said Charles. + +"I am a Jew by choice," he said; "after much prayer and study of +Scripture, I have come to the conclusion that, as Judaism was the first +religion, so it's to be the last. Christianity I consider an episode in +the history of revelation." + +"You are not likely to have many followers in such a belief," said +Charles; "we are all for progress now, not for retrograding." + +"I differ from you, Mr. Reding," said Zerubbabel; "see what the +Establishment is doing; it has sent a Bishop to Jerusalem." + +"That is rather with the view of making the Jews Christians than the +Christians Jews," said Reding. + +Zerubbabel wrote down: "Thinks Bishop of Jerusalem is to convert the +Jews;" then, "I differ from you, sir; on the contrary, I fancy the +excellent Bishop has in view to revive the distinction between Jew and +Gentile, which is one step towards the supremacy of the former; for if +the Jews have a place at all in Christianity, as Jews, it must be the +first place." + +Charles thought he had better let him have his talk out; so Zerubbabel +proceeded: "The good Bishop in question knows well that the Jew is the +elder brother of the Gentile, and it is his special mission to restore a +Jewish episcopate to the See of Jerusalem. The Jewish succession has +been suspended since the time of the Apostles. And now you see the +reason of my calling on you, Mr. Reding. It is reported that you lean +towards the Catholic Church; but I wish to suggest to you that you have +mistaken the centre of unity. The See of James at Jerusalem is the true +centre, not the See of Peter at Rome. Peter's power is a usurpation on +James's. I consider the present Bishop of Jerusalem the true Pope. The +Gentiles have been in power too long; it is now the Jews' turn." + +"You seem to allow," said Charles, "that there ought to be a centre of +unity and a Pope." + +"Certainly," said Zerubbabel, "and a ritual too, but it should be the +Jewish. I am collecting subscriptions for the rebuilding of the Temple +on Mount Moriah; I hope too to negotiate a loan, and we shall have +Temple stock, yielding, I calculate, at least four per cent." + +"It has hitherto been thought a sin," said Reding, "to attempt +rebuilding the Temple. According to you, Julian the Apostate went the +better way to work." + +"His motive was wrong, sir," answered the other; "but his act was good. +The way to convert the Jews is, first to accept their rites. This is one +of the greatest discoveries of this age. _We_ must make the first step +towards _them_. For myself, I have adopted all which the present state +of their religion renders possible. And I don't despair to see the day +when bloody sacrifices will be offered on the Temple Mount as of old." + +Here he came to a pause; and Charles making no reply, he said, in a +brisk, off-hand manner, "May I not hope you will give your name to this +religious object, and adopt the old ritual? The Catholic is quite of +yesterday compared with it." Charles answering in the negative, +Zerubbabel wrote down in his book: "Refuses to take part in our scheme;" +and disappeared from the room as suddenly as he entered it. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Charles's trials were not at an end; and we suspect the reader will give +a shudder at the news, as having a very material share in the +infliction. Yet the reader's case has this great alleviation, that he +takes up this narrative in an idle hour, and Charles encountered the +reality in a very busy and anxious one. So, however, it was: not any +great time elapsed after the retreat of Zerubbabel, when his landlord +again appeared at the door. He assured Mr. Reding that it was no fault +of his that the last two persons had called on him; that the lady had +slipped by him, and the gentleman had forced his way; but that he now +really did wish to solicit an interview for a personage of great +literary pretensions, who sometimes dealt with him, and who had come +from the West End for the honour of an interview with Mr. Reding. +Charles groaned, but only one reply was possible; the day was already +wasted, and with a sort of dull resignation he gave permission for the +introduction of the stranger. + +It was a pale-faced man of about thirty-five, who, when he spoke, arched +his eyebrows, and had a peculiar smile. He began by expressing his +apprehension that Mr. Reding must have been wearied by impertinent and +unnecessary visitors--visitors without intellect, who knew no better +than to obtrude their fanaticism on persons who did but despise it. "I +know more about the Universities," he continued, "than to suppose that +any congeniality can exist between their members and the mass of +religious sectarians. You have had very distinguished men among you, +sir, at Oxford, of very various schools, yet all able men, and +distinguished in the pursuit of Truth, though they have arrived at +contradictory opinions." + +Not knowing what he was driving at, Reding remained in an attitude of +expectation. + +"I belong," he continued, "to a Society which is devoted to the +extension among all classes of the pursuit of Truth. Any philosophical +mind, Mr. Reding, must have felt deep interest in your own party in the +University. Our Society, in fact, considers you to be distinguished +Confessors in that all-momentous occupation; and I have thought I could +not pay yourself individually, whose name has lately honourably appeared +in the papers, a better compliment than to get you elected a member of +our Truth Society. And here is your diploma," he added, handing a sheet +of paper to him. Charles glanced his eye over it; it was a paper, part +engraving, part print, part manuscript. An emblem of truth was in the +centre, represented, not by a radiating sun or star, as might be +expected, but as the moon under total eclipse, surrounded, as by cherub +faces, by the heads of Socrates, Cicero, Julian, Abelard, Luther, +Benjamin Franklin, and Lord Brougham. Then followed some sentences to +the effect that the London Branch Association of the British and Foreign +Truth Society, having evidence of the zeal in the pursuit of Truth of +Charles Reding, Esq., member of Oxford University, had unanimously +elected him into their number, and had assigned him the dignified and +responsible office of associate and corresponding member. + +"I thank the Truth Society very much," said Charles, when he got to the +end of the paper, "for this mark of their good will; yet I regret to +have scruples about accepting it till some of the patrons are changed, +whose heads are prefixed to the diploma. For instance, I do not like to +be under the shadow of the Emperor Julian." + +"You would respect his love of Truth, I presume," said Mr. Batts. + +"Not much, I fear," said Charles, "seeing it did not hinder him from +deliberately embracing error." + +"No, not so," answered Mr. Batts; "_he_ thought it Truth; and Julian, I +conceive, cannot be said to have deserted the Truth, because, in fact, +he always was in pursuit of it." + +"I fear," said Reding, "there is a very serious difference between your +principles and my own on this point." + +"Ah, my dear sir, a little attention to our principles will remove it," +said Mr. Batts: "let me beg your acceptance of this little pamphlet, in +which you will find some fundamental truths stated, almost in the way of +aphorisms. I wish to direct your attention to page 8, where they are +drawn out." + +Charles turned to the page, and read as follows:-- + + "_On the pursuit of Truth._ + + 1. It is uncertain whether Truth exists. + + 2. It is certain that it cannot be found. + + 3. It is a folly to boast of possessing it. + + 4. Man's work and duty, as man, consist, not in possessing, but in + seeking it. + + 5. His happiness and true dignity consist in the pursuit. + + 6. The pursuit of Truth is an end to be engaged in for its own + sake. + + 7. As philosophy is the love, not the possession of wisdom, so + religion is the love, not the possession of Truth. + + 8. As Catholicism begins with faith, so Protestantism ends with + inquiry. + + 9. As there is disinterestedness in seeking, so is there + selfishness in claiming to possess. + + 10. The martyr of Truth is he who dies professing that it is a + shadow. + + 11. A life-long martyrdom is this, to be ever changing. + + 12. The fear of error is the bane of inquiry." + +Charles did not get further than these, but others followed of a similar +character. He returned the pamphlet to Mr. Batts. "I see enough," he +said, "of the opinions of the Truth Society to admire their ingenuity +and originality, but, excuse me, not their good sense. It is impossible +I should subscribe to what is so plainly opposed to Christianity." + +Mr. Batts looked annoyed. "We have no wish to oppose Christianity," he +said; "we only wish Christianity not to oppose us. It is very hard that +we may not go our own way, when we are quite willing that others should +go theirs. It seems imprudent, I conceive, in this age, to represent +Christianity as hostile to the progress of the mind, and to turn into +enemies of revelation those who do sincerely wish to 'live and let +live.'" + +"But contradictions cannot be true," said Charles: "if Christianity says +that Truth can be found, it must be an error to state that it cannot be +found." + +"I conceive it to be intolerant," persisted Mr. Batts: "you will grant, +I suppose, that Christianity has nothing to do with astronomy or +geology: why, then, should it be allowed to interfere with philosophy?" + +It was useless proceeding in the discussion; Charles repressed the +answer which rose on his tongue of the essential connexion of philosophy +with religion; a silence ensued of several minutes, and Mr. Batts at +length took the hint, for he rose with a disappointed air, and wished +him good morning. + +It mattered little now whether he was left to himself or not, except +that conversation harassed and fretted him; for, as to turning his mind +to the subjects which were to have been his occupation that morning, it +was by this time far too much wearied and dissipated to undertake them. +On Mr. Batts' departure, then, he did not make the attempt, but sat +before the fire, dull and depressed, and in danger of relapsing into the +troubled thoughts from which his railroad companion had extricated him. +When, then, at the end of half an hour, a new knock was heard at the +door, he admitted the postulant with a calm indifference, as if fortune +had now done her worst, and he had nothing to fear. A middle-aged man +made his appearance, sleek and plump, who seemed to be in good +circumstances, and to have profited by them. His glossy black dress, in +contrast with the crimson colour of his face and throat, for he wore no +collars, and his staid and pompous bearing, added to his rapid delivery +when he spoke, gave him much the look of a farm-yard turkey-cock in the +eyes of any one who was less disgusted with seeing new faces than Reding +was at that moment. The new comer looked sharply at him as he entered. +"Your most obedient," he said abruptly; "you seem in low spirits, my +dear sir; but sit down, Mr. Reding, and give me the opportunity of +offering to you a little good advice. You may guess what I am by my +appearance: I speak for myself; I will say no more; I can be of use to +you. Mr. Reding," he continued, pulling his chair towards him, and +putting out his hand as if he was going to paw him, "have not you made a +mistake in thinking it necessary to go to the Romish Church for a relief +of your religious difficulties?" + +"You have not yet heard from me, sir," answered Charles gravely, "that I +have any difficulties at all. Excuse me if I am abrupt; I have had many +persons calling on me with your errand. It is very kind of you, but I +don't want advice; I was a fool to come here." + +"Well, my dear Mr. Reding, but listen to me," answered his persecutor, +spreading out the fingers of his right hand, and opening his eyes wide: +"I am right, I believe, in apprehending that your reason for leaving the +Establishment is, that you cannot carry out the surplice in the pulpit +and the candlesticks on the table. Now, don't you do more than you need. +Pardon me, but you are like a person who should turn the Thames in upon +his house, when he merely wanted his door-steps scrubbed. Why become a +convert to Popery, when you can obtain your object in a cheaper and +better way? Set up for yourself, my dear sir--set up for yourself; form +a new denomination, sixpence will do it; and then you may have your +surplice and candlesticks to your heart's content, without denying the +gospel, or running into the horrible abominations of the Scarlet Woman." +And he sat upright in his chair, with his hands flat on his extended +knees, watching with a self-satisfied air the effect of his words upon +Reding. + +"I have had enough of this," said poor Charles; "you, indeed, are but +one of a number, sir, and would say you had nothing to do with the rest; +but I cannot help regarding you as the fifth, or sixth, or seventh +person--I can't count them--who has been with me this morning, giving +me, though with the best intentions, advice which has not been asked +for. I don't know you, sir; you have no introduction to me; you have not +even told me your name. It is not usual to discourse on such personal +matters with strangers. Let me, then, thank you first for your kindness +in coming, and next for the additional kindness of going." And Charles +rose up. + +His visitor did not seem inclined to move, or to notice what he had +said. He stopped awhile, opened his handkerchief with much deliberation, +and blew his nose; then he continued: "Kitchens is my name, sir; Dr. +Kitchens; your state of mind, Mr. Reding, is not unknown to me; you are +at present under the influence of the old Adam, and indeed in a +melancholy way. I was not unprepared for it; and I have put into my +pocket a little tract which I shall press upon you with all the +Christian solicitude which brother can show towards brother. Here it is; +I have the greatest confidence in it; perhaps you have heard the name; +it is known as Kitchens's Spiritual Elixir. The Elixir has enlightened +millions; and, I will take on me to say, will convert you in twenty-four +hours. Its operation is mild and pleasurable, and its effects are +marvellous, prodigious, though it does not consist of more than eight +duodecimo pages. Here's a list of testimonies to some of the most +remarkable cases. I have known one hundred and two cases myself in which +it effected a saving change in six hours; seventy-nine in which its +operations took place in as few as three; and twenty-seven where +conversion followed instantaneously after the perusal. At once, poor +sinners, who five minutes before had been like the demoniac in the +gospel, were seen sitting 'clothed, and in their right mind.' Thus I +speak within the mark, Mr. Reding, when I say I will warrant a change in +you in twenty-four hours. I have never known but one instance in which +it seemed to fail, and that was the case of a wretched old man who held +it in his hand a whole day in dead silence, without any apparent +effect; but here _exceptio probat regulam_, for on further inquiry we +found he could not read. So the tract was slowly administered to him by +another person; and before it was finished, I protest to you, Mr. +Reding, he fell into a deep and healthy slumber, perspired profusely, +and woke up at the end of twelve hours a new creature, perfectly new, +bran new, and fit for heaven--whither he went in the course of the week. +We are now making farther experiments on its operation, and we find that +even separate leaves of the tract have a proportionate effect. And, what +is more to your own purpose, it is quite a specific in the case of +Popery. It directly attacks the peccant matter, and all the trash about +sacraments, saints, penance, purgatory, and good works is dislodged from +the soul at once." + +Charles remained silent and grave, as one who was likely suddenly to +break out into some strong act, rather than condescend to any farther +parleying. + +Dr. Kitchens proceeded: "Have you attended any of the lectures delivered +against the Mystic Babylon, or any of the public disputes which have +been carried on in so many places? My dear friend, Mr. Macanoise, +contested ten points with thirty Jesuits--a good half of the Jesuits in +London--and beat them upon all. Or have you heard any of the luminaries +of Exeter Hall? There is Mr. Gabb; he is a Boanerges, a perfect Niagara, +for his torrent of words; such momentum in his delivery; it is as rapid +as it's strong; it's enough to knock a man down. He can speak seven +hours running without fatigue; and last year he went through England, +delivering through the length and breadth of the land, one, and one +only, awful protest against the apocalyptic witch of Endor. He began at +Devonport and ended at Berwick, and surpassed himself on every delivery. +At Berwick, his last exhibition, the effect was perfectly tremendous; a +friend of mine heard it; he assures me, incredible as it may appear, +that it shattered some glass in a neighbouring house; and two priests of +Baal, who were with their day-school within a quarter of a mile of Mr. +Gabb, were so damaged by the mere echo, that one forthwith took to his +bed and the other has walked on crutches ever since." He stopped awhile; +then he continued: "And what was it, do you think, Mr. Reding, which had +this effect on them? Why, it was Mr. Gabb's notion about the sign of the +beast in the Revelation: he proved, Mr. Reding--it was the most original +hit in his speech--he proved that it was the sign of the cross, the +material cross." + +The time at length was come; Reding could not bear more; and, as it +happened, his visitor's offence gave him the means, as well as a cause, +for punishing him. "Oh," he said suddenly, "then I suppose, Dr. +Kitchens, you can't tolerate the cross?" + +"Oh no; tolerate it!" answered Dr. Kitchens; "it is Antichrist." + +"You can't bear the sight of it, I suspect, Dr. Kitchens?" + +"I can't endure it, sir; what true Protestant can?" + +"Then look here," said Charles, taking a small crucifix out of his +writing-desk; and he held it before Dr. Kitchens' face. + +Dr. Kitchens at once started on his feet, and retreated. "What's that?" +he said, and his face flushed up and then turned pale; "what's that? +it's the thing itself!" and he made a snatch at it. "Take it away, Mr. +Reding; it's an idol; I cannot endure it; take away the thing!" + +"I declare," said Reding to himself, "it really has power over him;" and +he still confronted Dr. Kitchens with it, while he kept it out of Dr. +Kitchens' reach. + +"Take it away, Mr. Reding, I beseech you," cried Kitchens, still +retreating, while Charles still pressed on him; "take it away, it's too +much. Oh, oh! Spare me, spare me, Mr. Reding!--nehushtan--an idol!--oh, +you young antichrist, you devil!--'tis He, 'tis He--torment!--spare me, +Mr. Reding." And the miserable man began to dance about, still eyeing +the sacred sign, and motioning it from him. + +Charles now had victory in his hands: there was, indeed, some difficulty +in steering Kitchens to the door from the place where he had been +sitting, but, that once effected, he opened it with violence, and, +throwing himself on the staircase, he began to jump down two or three +steps at a time, with such forgetfulness of everything but his own +terror, that he came plump upon two persons who, in rivalry of each +other, were in the act of rushing up: and, while he drove one against +the rail, he fairly rolled the other to the bottom. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Charles threw himself on his chair, burying the Crucifix in his bosom, +quite worn out with his long trial and the sudden exertion in which it +had just now been issuing. When a noise was heard at his door, and +knocks succeeded, he took no farther notice than to plant his feet on +the fender and bury his face in his hands. The summons at first was +apparently from one person only, but his delay in answering it gave time +for the arrival of another; and there was a brisk succession of +alternate knocks from the two, which Charles let take its course. At +length one of the rival candidates for admission, bolder than the other, +slowly opened the door; when the other, who had impetuously scrambled +upstairs after his fall, rushed in before him, crying out, "One word for +the New Jerusalem!" "In charity," said Reding, without changing his +attitude, "in charity, leave me alone. You mean it well, but I don't +want you, sir; I don't indeed. I've had Old Jerusalem here already, and +Jewish Apostles, and Gentile Apostles, and free inquiry, and fancy +religion, and Exeter Hall. What _have_ I done? why can't I die out in +peace? My dear sir, do go! I can't see you; I'm worn out." And he rose +up and advanced towards him. "Call again, dear sir, if you are bent on +talking with me; but, excuse me, I really have had enough of it for one +day. No fault of yours, my dear sir, that you have come the sixth or +seventh." And he opened the door for him. + +"A madman nearly threw me down as I was coming up," said the person +addressed, in some agitation. + +"Ten thousand pardons for his rudeness, my dear sir--ten thousand +pardons, but allow me;" and he bowed him out of the room. He then turned +round to the other stranger, who had stood by in silence: "And you too, +sir ... is it possible!" His countenance changed to extreme surprise; it +was Mr. Malcolm. Charles's thoughts flowed in a new current, and his +tormentors were suddenly forgotten. + +The history of Mr. Malcolm's calling was simple. He had always been a +collector of old books, and had often taken advantage of the stores of +Charles's landlord in adding to his library. Passing through London to +the Eastern Counties Rail, he happened to call in; and, as his friend +the bookseller was not behind his own reading-room in the diffusion of +gossip, he learned that Mr. Reding, who was on the point of seceding +from the Establishment, was at that moment above stairs. He waited with +impatience through Dr. Kitchens' visit, and even then found himself, to +his no small annoyance, in danger of being outstripped by the good +Swedenborgian. + +"How d'ye do, Charles?" he said, at length, with not a little stiffness +in his manner, while Charles had no less awkwardness in receiving him; +"you have been holding a levee this morning; I thought I should never +get to see you. Sit you down; let us both sit down, and let me at last +have a word or two with you." + +In spite of the diversified trial Charles had sustained from strangers +that morning, there was no one perhaps whom he would have less desired +to see than Mr. Malcolm. He could not help associating him with his +father, yet he felt no opening of heart towards him, nor respect for his +judgment. His feeling was a mixture of prescriptive fear and +friendliness, attachment from old associations, and desire of standing +well with him, but neither confidence nor real love. He coloured up and +felt guilty, yet without a clear understanding why. + +"Well, Charles Reding," he said, "I think we know each other well enough +for you to have given me a hint of what was going on as regards you." + +Charles said he had written to him only the evening before. + +"Ah, when there was not time to answer your letter," said Mr. Malcolm. + +Charles said he wished to spare so kind a friend ... he bungled, and +could not finish his sentence. + +"A friend, who, of course, could give no advice," said Mr. Malcolm +drily. Presently he said, "Were those people some of your new friends +who were calling on you? they have kept me in the shop this +three-quarters of an hour; and the fellow who has just come down nearly +threw me over the baluster." + +"Oh no, sir, I know nothing of them; they were the most unwelcome of +intruders." + +"As some one else seems to be," said Mr. Malcolm. + +Charles was very much hurt; the more so, because he had nothing to say; +he kept silence. + +"Well, Charles," said Mr. Malcolm, not looking at him, "I have known you +from this high; more, from a child in arms. A frank, open boy you were; +I don't know what has spoiled you. These Jesuits, perhaps.... It was not +so in your father's lifetime." + +"My dear sir," said Charles, "it pierces me to the heart to hear you +talk so. You have indeed always been most kind to me. If I have erred, +it has been an error of judgment; and I am very sorry for it, and hope +you will forgive it. I acted for the best; but I have been, as you must +feel, in a most trying situation. My mother has known what I was +contemplating this year past." + +"Trying situation! fudge! What have you to do with situations? I could +have told you a great deal about these Catholics; I know all about them. +Error of judgment! don't tell me. I know how these things happen quite +well. I have seen such things before; only I thought you a more sensible +fellow. There was young Dalton of St. Cross; he goes abroad, and falls +in with a smooth priest, who persuades the silly fellow that the +Catholic Church is the ancient and true Church of England, the only +religion for a gentleman; he is introduced to a Count this, and a +Marchioness that, and returns a Catholic. There was another; what was +his name? I forget it, of a Berkshire family. He is smitten with a +pretty face; nothing will serve but he must marry her; but she's a +Catholic, and can't marry a heretic; so he, forsooth, gives up the +favour of his uncle and his prospects in the county, for his fair +Juliet. There was another,--but it's useless going on. And, now I wonder +what has taken you." + +All this was the best justification for Charles's not having spoken to +Mr. Malcolm on the subject. That gentleman had had his own experience of +thirty or forty years, and, like some great philosophers, he made that +personal experience of his the decisive test of the possible and the +true. "I know them," he continued--"I know them; a set of hypocrites and +sharpers. I could tell you such stories of what I fell in with abroad. +Those priests are not to be trusted. Did you ever know a priest?" + +"No," answered Charles. + +"Did you ever see a Popish chapel?" + +"No." + +"Do you know anything of Catholic books, Catholic doctrine, Catholic +morality? I warrant it, not much." + +Charles looked very uncomfortable. + +"Then what makes you go to them?" + +Charles did not know what to say. + +"Silly boy," he went on, "you have not a word to say for yourself; it's +all idle fancy. You are going as a bird to the fowler." + +Reding began to rouse himself; he felt he ought to say something; he +felt that silence would tell against him. "Dear sir," he answered, +"there's nothing but may be turned against one if a person is so minded. +Now, do think; had I known this or that priest, you would have said at +once, 'Ah, he came over you.' If I had been familiar with Catholic +chapels, 'I was allured by the singing or the incense.' What can I have +done better than keep myself to myself, go by my best reason, consult +the friends whom I happened to find around me, as I have done, and wait +in patience till I was sure of my convictions?" + +"Ah, that's the way with you youngsters," said Mr. Malcolm; "you all +think you are so right; you do think so admirably that older heads are +worth nothing to the like of you. Well," he went on, putting on his +gloves, "I see I am not in the way to persuade you. Poor dear Charlie, I +grieve for you; what would your poor father have said, had he lived to +see it? Poor Reding, he has been spared this. But perhaps it would not +have happened. I know what the upshot will be; you will come back--come +back you will, to a dead certainty. We shall see you back, foolish boy, +after you have had your gallop over your ploughed field. Well, well; +better than running wild. You must have your hobby; it might have been a +worse; you might have run through your money. But perhaps you'll be +giving it away, as it is, to some artful priest. It's grievous, +grievous; your education thrown away, your prospects ruined, your poor +mother and sisters left to take care of themselves. And you don't say a +word to me." And he began musing. "A troublesome world: good-bye, +Charles; you are high and mighty now, and are in full sail: you may come +to your father's friend some day in a different temper. Good-bye." + +There was no help for it; Charles's heart was full, but his head was +wearied and confused, and his spirit sank; for all these reasons he had +not a word to say, and seemed to Mr. Malcolm either stupid or close. He +could but wring warmly Mr. Malcolm's reluctant hand, and accompany him +down to the street-door. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +"This will never do," said Charles, as he closed the door, and ran +upstairs; "here is a day wasted, worse than wasted, wasted partly on +strangers, partly on friends; and it's hard to say in which case a more +thorough waste. I ought to have gone to the Convent at once." The +thought flashed into his mind, and he stood over the fire dwelling on +it. "Yes," he said, "I will delay no longer. How does time go? I declare +it's past four o'clock." He then thought again: "I'll get over my +dinner, and then at once betake myself to my good Passionists." + +To the coffee-house then he went, and, as it was some way off, it is not +wonderful that it was near six before he arrived at the Convent. It was +a plain brick building; money had not been so abundant as to overflow +upon the exterior, after the expense of the interior had been provided +for. And it was incomplete; a large church had been enclosed, but it was +scarcely more than a shell,--altars, indeed, had been set up, but, for +the rest, it had little more than good proportions, a broad sanctuary, a +serviceable organ, and an effective choir. There was a range of +buildings adjacent, capable of holding about half-a-dozen fathers; but +the size of the church required a larger establishment. By this time, +doubtless, things are different, but we are looking back at the first +efforts of the English Congregation, when it had scarcely ceased to +struggle for life, and when friends and members were but beginning to +flow in. + +It was indeed but ten years, at that time, since the severest of modern +rules had been introduced into England. Two centuries after the +memorable era when St. Philip and St. Ignatius, making light of those +bodily austerities of which they were personally so great masters, +preached mortification of will and reason as more necessary for a +civilized age,--in the lukewarm and self-indulgent eighteenth century, +Father Paul of the Cross was divinely moved to found a Congregation in +some respects more ascetic than the primitive hermits and the orders of +the middle age. It was not fast, or silence, or poverty which +distinguished it, though here too it is not wanting in strictness; but +in the cell of its venerable founder, on the Celian Hill, hangs an iron +discipline or scourge, studded with nails, which is a memorial, not only +of his own self-inflicted sufferings, but of those of his Italian +family. The object of those sufferings was as remarkable as their +intensity; penance, indeed, is in one respect the end of all +self-chastisement, but in the instance of the Passionists the use of the +scourge was specially directed to the benefit of their neighbour. They +applied the pain to the benefit of the holy souls in Purgatory, or they +underwent it to rouse a careless audience. On their missions, when their +words seemed uttered in vain, they have been known suddenly to undo +their habit, and to scourge themselves with sharp knives or razors, +crying out to the horrified people, that they would not show mercy to +their flesh till they whom they were addressing took pity on their own +perishing souls. Nor was it to their own countrymen alone that this +self-consuming charity extended; how it so happened does not appear; +perhaps a certain memento close to their house was the earthly cause; +but so it was, that for many years the heart of Father Paul was expanded +towards a northern nation, with which, humanly speaking, he had nothing +to do. Over against St. John and St. Paul, the home of the Passionists +on the Celian, rises the old church and monastery of San Gregorio, the +womb, as it may be called, of English Christianity. There had lived that +great Saint, who is named our Apostle, who was afterwards called to the +chair of St. Peter; and thence went forth, in and after his pontificate, +Augustine, Paulinus, Justus, and the other Saints by whom our barbarous +ancestors were converted. Their names, which are now written up upon the +pillars of the portico, would almost seem to have issued forth, and +crossed over, and confronted the venerable Paul; for, strange to say, +the thought of England came into his ordinary prayers; and in his last +years, after a vision during Mass, as if he had been Augustine or +Mellitus, he talked of his "sons" in England. + +It was strange enough that even one Italian in the heart of Rome should +at that time have ambitious thoughts of making novices or converts in +this country; but, after the venerable Founder's death, his special +interest in our distant isle showed itself in another member of his +institute. On the Apennines, near Viterbo, there dwelt a shepherd-boy, +in the first years of this century, whose mind had early been drawn +heavenward; and, one day, as he prayed before an image of the Madonna, +he felt a vivid intimation that he was destined to preach the Gospel +under the northern sky. There appeared no means by which a Roman peasant +should be turned into a missionary; nor did the prospect open, when this +youth found himself, first a lay-brother, then a Father, in the +Congregation of the Passion. Yet, though no external means appeared, the +inward impression did not fade; on the contrary, it became more +definite, and, in process of time, instead of the dim north, England was +engraven on his heart. And, strange to say, as years went on, without +his seeking, for he was simply under obedience, our peasant found +himself at length upon the very shore of the stormy northern sea, whence +Caesar of old looked out for a new world to conquer; yet that he should +cross the strait was still as little likely as before. However, it was +as likely as that he should ever have got so near it; and he used to eye +the restless, godless waves, and wonder with himself whether the day +would ever come when he should be carried over them. And come it did, +not however by any determination of his own, but by the same Providence +which thirty years before had given him the anticipation of it. + +At the time of our narrative, Father Domenico de Matre Dei had become +familiar with England; he had had many anxieties here, first from want +of funds, then still more from want of men. Year passed after year, and, +whether fear of the severity of the rule--though that was groundless, +for it had been mitigated for England--or the claim of other religious +bodies was the cause, his community did not increase, and he was tempted +to despond. But every work has its season; and now for some time past +that difficulty had been gradually lessening; various zealous men, some +of noble birth, others of extensive acquirements, had entered the +Congregation; and our friend Willis, who at this time had received the +priesthood, was not the last of these accessions, though domiciled at a +distance from London. And now the reader knows much more about the +Passionists than did Reding at the time that he made his way to their +monastery. + +The church door came first, and, as it was open, he entered it. It +apparently was filling for service. When he got inside, the person who +immediately preceded him dipped his finger into a vessel of water which +stood at the entrance, and offered it to Charles. Charles, ignorant what +it meant, and awkward from his consciousness of it, did nothing but +slink aside, and look for some place of refuge; but the whole space was +open, and there seemed no corner to retreat into. Every one, however, +seemed about his own business; no one minded him, and so far he felt at +his ease. He stood near the door, and began to look about him. A +profusion of candles was lighting at the High Altar, which stood in the +centre of a semicircular apse. There were side-altars--perhaps +half-a-dozen; most of them without lights, but, even here, solitary +worshippers might be seen. Over one was a large old Crucifix with a +lamp, and this had a succession of visitors. They came each for five +minutes, said some prayers which were attached in a glazed frame to the +rail, and passed away. At another, which was in a chapel at the farther +end of one of the aisles, six long candles were burning, and over it was +an image. On looking attentively, Charles made out at last that it was +an image of Our Lady, and the Child held out a rosary. Here a +congregation had already assembled, or rather was in the middle of some +service, to him unknown. It was rapid, alternate, and monotonous; and, +as it seemed interminable, Reding turned his eyes elsewhere. They fell +first on one, then on another confessional, round each of which was a +little crowd, kneeling, waiting every one his own turn for presenting +himself for the sacrament--the men on the one side, the women on the +other. At the lower end of the church were about three ranges of +moveable benches with backs and kneelers; the rest of the large space +was open, and filled with chairs. The growing object of attention at +present was the High Altar; and each person, as he entered, took a +chair, and, kneeling down behind it, began his prayers. At length the +church got very full; rich and poor were mixed together--artisans, +well-dressed youths, Irish labourers, mothers with two or three +children--the only division being that of men from women. A set of boys +and children, mixed with some old crones, had got possession of the +altar-rail, and were hugging it with restless motions, as if in +expectation. + +Though Reding had continued standing, no one would have noticed him; but +he saw the time was come for him to kneel, and accordingly he moved into +a corner seat on the bench nearest him. He had hardly done so, when a +procession with lights passed from the sacristy to the altar; something +went on which he did not understand, and then suddenly began what, by +the _Miserere_ and _Ora pro nobis_, he perceived to be a litany; a hymn +followed. Reding thought he never had been present at worship before, so +absorbed was the attention, so intense was the devotion of the +congregation. What particularly struck him was, that whereas in the +Church of England the clergyman or the organ was everything and the +people nothing, except so far as the clerk is their representative, here +it was just reversed. The priest hardly spoke, or at least audibly; but +the whole congregation was as though one vast instrument or +Panharmonicon, moving all together, and, what was most remarkable, as if +self-moved. They did not seem to require any one to prompt or direct +them, though in the Litany the choir took the alternate parts. The words +were Latin, but every one seemed to understand them thoroughly, and to +be offering up his prayers to the Blessed Trinity, and the Incarnate +Saviour, and the great Mother of God, and the glorified Saints, with +hearts full in proportion to the energy of the sounds they uttered. +There was a little boy near him, and a poor woman, singing at the pitch +of their voices. There was no mistaking it; Reding said to himself, +"This _is_ a popular religion." He looked round at the building; it was, +as we have said, very plain, and bore the marks of being unfinished; +but the Living Temple which was manifested in it needed no curious +carving or rich marble to complete it, "for the glory of God had +enlightened it, and the Lamb was the lamp thereof." "How wonderful," +said Charles to himself, "that people call this worship formal and +external; it seems to possess all classes, young and old, polished and +vulgar, men and women indiscriminately; it is the working of one Spirit +in all, making many one." + +While he was thus thinking, a change came over the worship. A priest, or +at least an assistant, had mounted for a moment above the altar, and +removed a chalice or vessel which stood there; he could not see +distinctly. A cloud of incense was rising on high; the people suddenly +all bowed low; what could it mean? the truth flashed on him, fearfully +yet sweetly; it was the Blessed Sacrament--it was the Lord Incarnate who +was on the altar, who had come to visit and to bless His people. It was +the Great Presence, which makes a Catholic Church different from every +other place in the world; which makes it, as no other place can be, +holy. The Breviary offices were by this time not unknown to Reding; and +as he threw himself on the pavement, in sudden self-abasement and joy, +some words of those great Antiphons came into his mouth, from which +Willis had formerly quoted: "O Adonai, et Dux domus Israel, qui Moysi in +rubo apparuisti; O Emmanuel, Exspectatio Gentium et Salvator earum, veni +ad salvandum nos, Domine Deus noster." + +The function did not last very long after this; Reding, on looking up, +found the congregation rapidly diminishing, and the lights in course of +extinction. He saw he must be quick in his motions. He made his way to a +lay-brother who was waiting till the doors could be closed, and begged +to be conducted to the Superior. The lay-brother feared he might be busy +at the moment, but conducted him through the sacristy to a small neat +room, where, being left to himself, he had time to collect his thoughts. +At length the Superior appeared; he was a man past the middle age, and +had a grave yet familiar manner. Charles's feelings were indescribable, +but all pleasurable. His heart beat, not with fear or anxiety, but with +the thrill of delight with which he realized that he was beneath the +shadow of a Catholic community, and face to face with one of its +priests. His trouble went in a moment, and he could have laughed for +joy. He could hardly keep his countenance, and almost feared to be taken +for a fool. He presented the card of his railroad companion. The good +Father smiled when he saw the name, nor did the few words which were +written with pencil on the card diminish his satisfaction. Charles and +he soon came to an understanding; he found himself already known in the +community by means of Willis; and it was arranged that he should take up +his lodging with his new friends forthwith, and remain there as long as +it suited him. He was to prepare for confession at once; and it was +hoped that on the following Sunday he might be received into Catholic +communion. After that, he was, at a convenient interval, to present +himself to the Bishop, from whom he would seek the sacrament of +confirmation. Not much time was necessary for removing his luggage from +his lodgings; and in the course of an hour from the time of his +interview with the Father Superior, he was sitting by himself, with pen +and paper and his books, and with a cheerful fire, in a small cell of +his new home. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +A very few words will conduct us to the end of our history. It was +Sunday morning about seven o'clock, and Charles had been admitted into +the communion of the Catholic Church about an hour since. He was still +kneeling in the church of the Passionists before the Tabernacle, in the +possession of a deep peace and serenity of mind, which he had not +thought possible on earth. It was more like the stillness which almost +sensibly affects the ears when a bell that has long been tolling stops, +or when a vessel, after much tossing at sea, finds itself in harbour. It +was such as to throw him back in memory on his earliest years, as if he +were really beginning life again. But there was more than the happiness +of childhood in his heart; he seemed to feel a rock under his feet; it +was the _soliditas Cathedrae Petri_. He went on kneeling, as if he were +already in heaven, with the throne of God before him, and angels around; +and as if to move were to lose his privilege. + +At length he felt a light hand on his shoulder, and a voice said, +"Reding, I am going; let me just say farewell to you before I go." He +looked around; it was Willis, or rather Father Aloysius, in his dark +Passionist habit, with the white heart sewed in at his left breast. +Willis carried him from the church into the sacristy. "What a joy, +Reding!" he whispered, when the door closed upon them; "what a day of +joy! St. Edward's day, a doubly blessed day henceforth. My Superior let +me be present; but now I must go. You did not see me, but I was present +through the whole." + +"Oh," said Charles, "what shall I say?--the face of God! As I knelt I +seemed to wish to say this, and this only, with the Patriarch, 'Now let +me die, since I have seen Thy Face.'" + +"You, dear Reding," said Father Aloysius, "have keen fresh feelings; +mine are blunted by familiarity." + +"No, Willis," he made answer, "you have taken the better part betimes, +while I have loitered. Too late have I known Thee, O Thou ancient Truth; +too late have I found Thee, First and only Fair." + +"All is well, except as sin makes it ill," said Father Aloysius; "if you +have to lament loss of time before conversion, I have to lament it +after. If you speak of delay, must not I of rashness? A good God +overrules all things. But I must away. Do you recollect my last words +when we parted in Devonshire? I have thought of them often since; they +were too true then. I said, 'Our ways divide.' They are different still, +yet they are the same. Whether we shall meet again here below, who +knows? but there will be a meeting ere long before the Throne of God, +and under the shadow of His Blessed Mother and all Saints. 'Deus +manifeste veniet, Deus noster, et non silebit.'" + +Reding took Father Aloysius's hand and kissed it; as he sank on his +knees the young priest made the sign of blessing over him. Then he +vanished through the door of the sacristy; and the new convert sought +his temporary cell, so happy in the Present, that he had no thoughts +either for the Past or the Future. + + +THE END. + + + + +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. +EDINBURGH AND LONDON + + + + +_CARDINAL NEWMAN'S WORKS._ + + +1. SERMONS. + +1-8. PAROCHIAL AND PLAIN SERMONS. (_Rivingtons._) + +9. SERMONS ON SUBJECTS OF THE DAY. (_Rivingtons._) + +10. UNIVERSITY SERMONS. (_Rivingtons._) + +11. SERMONS TO MIXED CONGREGATIONS. (_Burns & Oates._) + +12. OCCASIONAL SERMONS. (_Burns & Oates._) + + +2. TREATISES. + +13. ON THE DOCTRINE OF JUSTIFICATION. (_Rivingtons._) + +14. ON THE DEVELOPMENT OF CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. (_Pickering._) + +15. ON THE IDEA OF A UNIVERSITY. (_Pickering._) + +16. ON THE DOCTRINE OF ASSENT. (_Burns & Oates._) + + +3. ESSAYS. + +17. TWO ESSAYS ON MIRACLES. 1. Of Scripture. 2. Of Ecclesiastical +History. (_Pickering._) + +18. DISCUSSIONS AND ARGUMENTS. 1. How to accomplish it. 2. The +Antichrist of the Fathers. 3. Scripture and the Creed. 4. Tamworth +Reading-Room. 5. Who's to blame? 6. An Argument for Christianity. +(_Pickering._) + +19, 20. ESSAYS, CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL. TWO VOLUMES, WITH NOTES. 1. +Poetry. 2. Rationalism. 3. Apostolical Tradition. 4. De la Mennais. 5. +Palmer on Faith and Unity. 6. St. Ignatius. 7. Prospects of the Anglican +Church. 8. The Anglo-American Church. 9. Countess of Huntingdon. 10. +Catholicity of the Anglican Church. 11. The Antichrist of Protestants. +12. Milman's Christianity. 13. Reformation of the Eleventh Century. 14. +Private Judgment. 15. Davison. 16. Keble. (_Pickering._) + + +4. HISTORICAL. + +21-23. THREE VOLUMES. 1. The Turks. 2. Cicero. 3. Apollonius. 4. +Primitive Christianity. 5. Church of the Fathers. 6. St. Chrysostom. 7. +Theodoret. 8. St. Benedict. 9. Benedictine Schools. 10. Universities. +11. Northmen and Normans. 12. Medieval Oxford. 13. Convocation of +Canterbury. (_Pickering._) + + +5. THEOLOGICAL. + +24. THE ARIANS OF THE FOURTH CENTURY. (_Pickering._) + +25, 26. ANNOTATED TRANSLATION OF ATHANASIUS. TWO VOLUMES. (_Pickering._) + +27. TRACTS. 1. Dissertatiunculae. 2. On the Text of the Seven Epistles of +St. Ignatius. 3. Doctrinal Causes of Arianism. 4. Apollinarianism. 5. +St. Cyril's Formula. 6. Ordo de Tempore. 7. Douay Version of Scripture. +(_Pickering._) + + +6. POLEMICAL. + +28, 29. VIA MEDIA. TWO VOLUMES, WITH NOTES. 1st Vol. Prophetical Office +of the Church. 2d Vol. Occasional Letters and Tracts. (_Pickering._) + +30, 31. DIFFICULTIES OF ANGLICANS. TWO VOLUMES. 1st Vol. Twelve +Lectures. 2d Vol. Letters to Dr. Pusey concerning the Bl. Virgin, and to +the Duke of Norfolk in Defence of the Pope and Council. (_Burns & Oates, +and Pickering._) + +32. PRESENT POSITION OF CATHOLICS IN ENGLAND. (_Burns & Oates._) + +33. APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA. (_Longmans._) + + +7. LITERARY. + +34. VERSES ON VARIOUS OCCASIONS. (_Burns & Oates._) + +35. LOSS AND GAIN. (_Burns & Oates, and Pickering._) + +36. CALLISTA. (_Burns & Oates._) + + +It is scarcely necessary to say that the Author submits all that he has +written to the judgment of the Church, whose gift and prerogative it is +to determine what is true and what is false in religious teaching. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Loss and Gain, by John Henry Newman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOSS AND GAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 24574.txt or 24574.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/5/7/24574/ + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Pilar Somoza Fernandez and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian +Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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