tions of his narrative which most provoke | their youth extraordinary liars." (Vol. i., p. a smile. The history of the Noetic party 245.) at Oriel, and of the more distinctly ecclesiastical school which followed it, may be grave and dignified enough; but there were other parties or schools which exhibited no dignity at all. Such was the little society gathered at St. Edmund Hall, which was intended "to be a burning and shining light in the surrounding darkness." The brightness was not a physical one.

They were not, however, always birds of a feather. Some few were men of reading and of learning.

But they did not find themselves at home, and they made their escape to another college at the first opportunity-Jacobson to wit.

Matters must have been even worse at the beginning of the century. An old family friend of mine, Mr. Wayland, together with his friend Mr. Joyce, who became a popular private tutor and used to help Lord Grenville to write elegiacs on his departed dogs, found themselves thrown together by misdirected kindness in St. Edmund Hall. I cannot say that they blessed the friends who had so ordered their career. Their feelings of disappointment and annoyance may well be forgiven under the conditions which Mr. Mozley goes on to describe.

the strict sense of truthfulness is most It is, perhaps, not easy to say where thoroughly fostered. Such education as these St. Edmund Hall men had, they had received probably either at home or in some insignificant school; but elsewhere Mr. Mozley seems to speak of such conditions as by no means unfavorable to the growth of the virtue which they conspicuously lacked. On the Wilberforces we are told that "one result of a private education was their truthfulness."

large as to create a social distance between A public school, and indeed any school so the masters and the boys, is liable to suffer the growth of conventional forms of truth and conventional dispensations from absolute truth. Loyalty to the schoolfellows warps the loyalty The world has had many due to the master.

a fling at Bishop Wilberforce's ingenuity and dexterity, but his veracity and faithfulness cannot be impugned. He said what he believed or felt, and was as good as his word- - a fact that must be admitted by many who owe him little or nothing.

But we can scarcely stop at this point; and in the comments which follow, Mr. Mozley is not quite consistent with himself. For the cultivation of truthfulness, private education stands, it seems, after all, at a disadvantage.

It may be said that a public schoolboy, even if he cuts a knot with a good bold lie every now and then, on what custom holds to be the necessity of occasion, yet learns to manage the whole matter of truth better than he could at home or at a private tutor's. He learns better to distinguish between truthful and false characters, true and false appearances, the genuine and the spurious in the coinage of morality, the words that mean and the words that don't mean, the modes of action likely to bear good fruit, and the modes which only promise or pretend. Every public schoolboy can say how it was S. Wilberforce made some considerable mistakes, and how it was he acquired a reputation for sinuous ways and slippery expressions. (Vol. i., p. 114.)

As the St. Edmund Hall men divided their time between self-contemplation, mutual amusement, and the reading of emotional works, studying no history, not even critically studying the Scriptures, and knowing no more of the world than sufficed to condemn it, they naturally, and perforce, were driven into a very dangerous corner. This was invention. Their knowledge was imaginary. So, too, was their introspection, their future, sometimes even | their past. All precocity is apt to take this form. The quick ripening mind, for lack of These remarks leave the main point other matter, feeds upon itself. These young untouched. Promises made by man to men had been reared on unsubstantial and man, exactness in conversation, and truthstimulating food; on pious tales, on high-ful judgments of others, do not exhaust wrought death-beds, on conversations as they the conditions which may be tests of ought to have been, on one-sided biographies. truthfulness. In his private life Bishop Truth of opinion, they had always been told, Wilberforce was absolutely trustworthy, was incomparably more important than truth of fact. Henry Wilberforce used to relate the high-minded, and honorable; but he was rather unguarded speech of a well-known also a theologian and a politician, and in archdeacon, friend of Sumner, Bishop of Win- both capacities he had to deal with circhester: "It's remarkable that all the most cumstances which called not seldom for spiritually-minded men I have known were in wary treatment, and which exposed him,

we think unjustly, to the charge of slip-| said and written to demonstrate its ab-
periness and insincerity. It is impossi- surdity, it is felt still. Individual men
ble to read the bishop's private corre- may have cleared themselves of the very
spondence in the biography lately pub- faintest complicity with dissimulation in
lished of him without arriving at the any shape; but it has not been found
conclusion that he was even more earnest easy or even possible to banish the fear
in his convictions than he was supposed of systems which seem to furnish congen-
to be.
ial soil for something worse than mere
evasion. The difficulties which surround
the subject are exceedingly great; and to
take it in hand without keeping these

66

At the outset of the Tractarian move ment, vast numbers had already half convinced themselves that there was a well-organized conspiracy for reducing difficulties fully in sight is simply to beEnglishmen under papal bondage. Their worst fears received an absolute confirmation when, as Mr. Mozley puts it, "a man retiring and modest even to a fault, who could never have seen a dozen people together without a wish to hide himself," made a pretty theory of what all the world does in one way or another." In Mr. Mozley's opinion the theory was superfluous as well as imprudent. The Bible, he asserts, is now the most universal book in the world, and where it goes there can be no reserve. This may be doubted. The multiplication of books does not change the powers of the human mind; and a vast superiority in education and learning will always enable a man to practise reserve with the common folk, if he chooses to do so. But of Isaac Williams, as the one to make the challenge, Mr. Mozley may well say:·

Could the man himself have been exhibited at Exeter Hall. people would have seen what a simple rogue the poor child was, what an imitation Guy Fawkes, what an innocent Inquisitor. As it was, and in total ignorance of the man, the world fell, or affected to fall, into a paroxysm of terror at the infernal machinations preparing against it. The front line of the advancing foe it could venture to cope with in open fight and measure swords with. It was the awful indefinite reserve and the dark ambuscade that made ten thousand pulpits tremble to the very foot of the steps. For

many years after, whenever the preacher had

exhausted his memory or his imagination, and
run out his circle of texts or ideas, he could
easily fall back on the dark doings of Oxford.
Congregations of London shopkeepers were
told that Newman and Pusey inculcated and
practised systematic fraud, concealment, and
downright lying in a good cause — that is, in
their own. When one looked round to see the
impression made by the dreadful charge, the
congregation either were so fast asleep, or they
were taking it so easy, that they must have
heard it often before, or perhaps, after all, did
not think habitual lying so serious a matter.
(Vol. i., p. 435.)

The alarm, however, was not simply
feigned; and in spite of all that has been
VOL. XL. 2062

LIVING AGE.

tray huge folly. It is precisely this folly of which Mr. Kingsley was guilty when he made his attack on Dr. Newman in person, and so fell into a trap from which extrication was impossible. It was the method of his protest rather than the substance of his accusation that was in fault. His charge was mere water as compared with that of a writer in the Christian Remembrancer ten years before. The allegations of this writer, even after a careful weighing of all that is urged in the appendix to Dr. Newman's "Apologia," remain, so far as we can see, substantially unaffected, and they are certainly far more serious than those which Mr. Kingsley made in his unfortunate article in Macmillan's Magazine. It is a grave matter when a writer, after a careful examination of authoritative treatises on casuistry, ends by saying that, so long as Liguori's theory of truthfulness remains uncondemned, "we must be pardoned if we believe their word, because they are Christians - because they are men of honor-because they are Englishmen; not because they are, but in spite of their being, Romanists." Yet, on the other hand, we cannot refuse to hear Dr. Newman when he says that the prac tice is founded on the words which warn us against casting pearls before swine; and that in matters of practice, apart from writers simply declare that in certain exquestions of teaching, great English treme cases, as to save life, honor, or even property, a lie is allowable."* Jeremy Taylor who insists that "to tell a lie for charity, to save a man's life, the life of a friend, of a husband, of a prince, of a useful and a public person, hath not only been done at all times, but commended by great and wise and good men." Jeanie Deans was brought up in a sterner school of morality. John Inglesant, brought up in the school of the Jesuits, thought it his duty to lie for his king, even at the risk of his own life.

66

• Apologia, p. 418.

It is

affair.

In

So, running out in all directions, pene- the following sentences are a virtual contrating the domain of poetry and art, pro- fession: voking against itself reactions, of which Why did I go so far, and why did I not go we have not yet in all cases seen the issue, the great movement has gone on, and farther? Why enter upon arguments and not accept their conclusions ? Why advance to is indeed going on still. With its origin stand still, and in doing so commit myself to and progress are associated a multitude of a final retreat? The reasons of this lame and memorable names; and of many of these impotent conclusion lay within myself, wide Mr. Mozley has spoken with affectionate apart from the great controversy in which I enthusiasm, of none without tender sym- was but an intruder. I was never really seri. I had pathy, or at the least an impartial forbear-ous, in a sober business-like fashion. ance. But who shall say that he has fully neither the power nor the will to enter into any appreciated either the actors or their great argument with the resolution to accept the legitimate conclusion. Even when I was work? Mr. Mozley would assuredly make no such imprudent claim. Some of sacrificing my days, my strength, my means, the most conspicuous among them live in my prospects, my peace and quiet, all I had, to the cause, it was an earthly contest, not a his pages; others, scarcely less important, spiritual one. It occupied me, it excited me, are barely seen within the charmed circle, it gratified my vanity, it identified me with and such omissions seem to point to what I honestly believed a very grand crusade, personal characteristics in himself which it offered me the hopes of contributing to great Mr. Mozley would be the last to disavow. achievements. But good as the cause might Milman and Stanley are but two out of be, and considerable as my part might be in many, whose minds have been in what-it, I was never the better man for it, and, not ever measure shaped and braced to their being the better, I never was the wiser. work by the influences of the Oxford fact, it was to me, all or most of it, an outside movement, and who are destined, as we believe, to mould in far greater measure the religious faith of Englishmen hereafter. These men Mr. Mozley has, we think, failed to understand, as Dr. Pusey holds him to have failed in understanding Newman and Keble. It may therefore be 'true that though he has lived through it, he has, in a certain sense, failed to understand the movement itself. He can speak of the theories, rather we should say the doctrines, of the Apostolical Succession, of priestly power, of absolution, and the rest, but nowhere, it would seem, as going to the root of the matter. Churchmanship, as understood by Hurrell Froude, by Keble, or by Newman, is nowhere compared closely with the churchmanship of the older men, of whose general excellence he speaks with genuine and hearty admiration. The time came when, in the orderly sequence of thought, the road to which he had committed himself brought him to the great alternative, and bade him, as he thought, make choice between the Church of England and the communion of Latin Christendom; and in picturing for us the struggle through which he passed he has given expression, on various subjects of the great est gravity, to thoughts pointing to like modes in which other minds may be working, and of which it will be well for his readers to take account. But that of the primary conviction needed for an irrevocable decision there was an unconscious, or rather a half-conscious, lack,

The explanation, probably, is not far to seek. All faiths rest on certain ultimate premisses; and where a man is honest and single-hearted it is by these that his course is throughout life determined. No doubt there are Roman Catholics in England, and a far larger proportion of them elsewhere, who never troubled themselves about such questions; but no man has joined the Roman Church with a mind at ease, who had not convinced himself that only by so doing he could escape from complete and irremediable ruin; and this conviction in all but its final stage was fully formed in Dr. Newman's mind for years before he made his submission. In the very striking and forcible part of the " Apologia" which gives his "General Answer to Mr. Kingsley," he declares that as he looks on this living, busy world he sees no reflection of its Creator, and is led to the conclusion that either there is no Creator, or this living society of man is in a true sense "discarded from his presence." Hence, if there be a God, and since there is a God, the human race is implicated in some terrible aboriginal calamity, and is out of joint with the purposes of its Creator. If for any this ruin is to be arrested and a method of deliverance vouchsafed, there must be a concrete representative of things invisible, which shall have the force and the toughness necessary to be a breakwater against the deluge of unbelief and rebellion. There must be "a power in the world,

rare, and the sportsman does not esteem them much; but when they come, the sun that floods the warm soil, the heather that glows back again in endless warmth and bloom, the bees that never intermit their hum " numerous as the lips of any poet, the wilder mystic note that answers from the boughs of the scattered firs, make up a harmony of sight and sound to which there are few parallels. So Lord Millefleurs thought when he climbed up the hill above Dalrulzian, and looking down on the other side, saw the sea of brilliant

invested with the prerogative of infallibil- | approached, or rather the twelfth apity in religious matters." These prem- proached, August having already come. isses being granted, it may, we allow, be Every bit of country not arable or clothed a hard matter to resist the conclusion; with pasture, was purple and brilliant with but they must be granted in full. It is heather; and to stand under the columns not enough to say that the idea of moral of the fir-trees on a hillside, was to be goodness excludes that of a mechanical within such a world of " murmurous obedience, and that moral action and the sound" as you could scarcely attain even responsibility consequent upon it imply under the southern limes, or by the edge choice; that a bad choice involves indefi- of the sea. The hum of the bees among nite mischief; that the divine purpose is the heather-the warm, luxurious sunnot therefore affected, and that the divine shine streaming over that earth-glow of work still advances to its great consum-heather-bells-what is there more musimation. We are offering no arguments cal, more complete? These hot days are and pronouncing no judgment. Both would here be out of place; and there is the less need for offering them, as we have had occasion lately to deal at some length with these premisses, and with the theological fabric which rests on them, in our remarks on Dean Stanley's "Christian Institutions." Dean Stanley's answer to Dr. Newman's syllogism is also our own; and we are content to leave behind us the controversies which no theories of sacerdotalism have ever been able to settle. In some of his comments on the religious history of the last half-moorland, red and purple and golden, with century, Mr. Mozley seems to have caught the true answer to the perplexities which he has rather shaken off than fairly unravelled. He has at least fully learnt the lesson that "everything warns us and calls us to moderation and to mutual toleration;" and if his mind had been less fixed on organized ecclesiastical constitutions, he would have seen, in Dean Stanley's words, that underneath the vast mass of sentiments and usages which have accumulated round the forms of Christianity "there is a class of principles a religion behind the religion, which, however dimly expressed, has given them whatever vitality they possess." In this assurance we can read more cheerfully the beautiful words with which, at the close of his " Apologia," speaking of all those who had with him been so united at Oxford, and so happy in their union, Dr. Newman prays "with a hope against hope that they may even now be brought at length, by the power of the divine will, into one fold under one shepherd."

From Blackwood's Magazine.
THE LADIES LINDORES.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE summer went over without any special incident. August and the grouse

gleams here and there of the liveliest green, fine knolls of moss upon the grey-green of the moorland grass. He declared it was "a new experience," with a little lisp, but a great deal of feeling. Lady Lindores and Edith were of the party with John Erskine. They had lunched at Dalrulzian, and John was showing his poor little place with a somewhat rueful civility to the Duke of Lavender's son. Millefleurs was all praise and admiration, as a visitor ought to be; but what could he think of the handful of a place, the small house, the little wood, the limited establishment? They had been recalling the Eton days, when John was, the little marquis declared, far too kind a fag-master. "For I must have been a little wretch," said the little fat man, folding his hands with angelical seriousness and simplicity. Lady Lindores, who had once smiled at his absurdities with such genial liking, could not bear them now, since she had taken up the idea that Edith might be a duchess. She glanced at her daughter to see how she was taking it, and was equally indignant with Millefleurs for making himself ridiculous, and with Edith for laughing. "I have no doubt you were the best fag that ever was," she said.

"Dear Lady Lindores! always so good and so kind," said Millefleurs, clasping his little fat hands. "No, dearest lady, I