The Project Gutenberg EBook of Apologia pro Vita Sua, by John Henry Newman
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Title: Apologia pro Vita Sua
Author: John Henry Newman
Release Date: October 31, 2006 [EBook #19690]
Language: English
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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA ***
Produced by Andrew Sly
APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA
By John Henry (Cardinal) Newman
London: Published
by J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd.
And in New York
by E.P. Dutton & Co.
Introduction
_"No autobiography in the English language has been more read; to
the nineteenth century it bears a relation not less characteristic
than Boswell's 'Johnson' to the eighteenth."_
Rev. Wm. Barry, D.D.
Newman was already a recognised spiritual leader of over thirty
year's standing, but not yet a Cardinal, when in 1864 he wrote the
_Apologia_. He was London born, and he had, as many Londoners have
had, a foreign strain in him. His father came of Dutch stock; his
mother was a Fourdrinier, daughter of an old French Huguenot family
settled in this country. The date of his birth, 21st of February
1801, relates him to many famous contemporaries, from Heine to Renan,
from Carlyle to Pusey. Sent to school at Ealing--an imaginative
seven-year-old schoolboy, he was described even then as being fond of
books and seriously minded. It is certain he was deeply read in the
English Bible, thanks to his mother's care, before he began Latin and
Greek. Another lifelong influence--as we may be prepared to find by a
signal reference in the following autobiography, was Sir Walter
Scott; and in a later page he speaks of reading in bed _Waverley_ and
_Guy Mannering_ when they first came out--"in the early summer
mornings," and of his delight in hearing _The Lay of the Last
Minstrel_ read aloud. Like Ruskin, another nineteenth-century master
of English prose, he was finely affected by these two powerful
inductors. They worked alike upon his piety and his imagination which
was its true servant, and they helped to foster his seemingly
instinctive style and his feeling for the English tongue.
In 1816 he went to Oxford--to Trinity College--and two years later
gained a scholarship there. His father's idea was that he should read
for the bar, and he kept a few terms at Lincoln's Inn; but in the end
Oxford, which had, about the year of his birth, experienced a rebirth
of ideas, thanks to the widening impulse of the French Revolution,
held him, and Oriel College--the centre of the "Noetics," as old
Oxford called the Liberal set in contempt--made him a fellow. His
association there with Pusey and Keble is a matter of history; and
the Oxford Movement, in which the three worked together, was the
direct result, according to Dean Church, of their "searchings of
heart and communing" for seven years, from 1826 to 1833. A word might
be said of Whately too, whose _Logic_ Newman helped to beat into
final form in these Oxford experiences. Not since the days of Colet
and Erasmus had the University experienced such a shaking of the
branches. However, there is no need to do more than allude to these
intimately dealt with in the _Apologia_ itself.
There, indeed, the stages of Newman's pilgrimage are related with a
grace and sincerity of style that have hardly been equalled in
English or in any northern tongue. It ranges from the simplest facts
to the most complicated polemical issues and is always easily in
accord with its changing theme. So much so, that the critics
themselves have not known whether to admire more the spiritual logic
of the literary art of the writer and self-confessor. We may take, as
two instances of Newman's power, the delightful account in Part III.
of his childhood and the first growth of his religious belief; and
the remarkable opening to Part IV., where he uses the figure of the
death-bed with that finer reality which is born of the creative
communion of thought and word in a poet's brain. Something of this
power was felt, it is clear, in his sermons at Oxford. Dr. Barry
describes the effect that Newman made at the time of his parting with
the Anglican Church: "Every sermon was an experience;" made memorable
by that "still figure, and clear, low, penetrating voice, and the
mental hush that fell upon his audience while he meditated, alone
with the Alone, in words of awful austerity. His discourses were
poems, but transcripts too from the soul, reasonings in a heavenly
dialectic...."
About his controversy with Charles Kingsley, the immediate cause of
his _Apologia_, what new thing need be said? It is clear that
Kingsley, who was the type of a class of mind then common enough in
his Church, impulsive, prejudiced, not logical, gave himself away
both by the mode and by the burden of his unfortunate attack. But we
need not complain of it to-day, since it called out one of the
noblest pieces of spiritual history the world possesses: one indeed
which has the unique merit of making only the truth that is intrinsic
and devout seem in the end to matter.
Midway in the forties, as the _Apologia_ tells us, twenty years that
is before it was written, Newman left Oxford and the Anglican Church
for the Church in which he died. Later portraits make us realise him
best in his robes as a Cardinal, as he may be seen in the National
Portrait Gallery, or in the striking picture by Millais (now in
the Duke of Norfolk's collection). There is one delightful earlier
portrait too, which shows him with a peculiarly radiant face, full of
charm and serene expectancy; and with it we may associate these lines
of his--sincere expression of one who was in all his earthly and
heavenly pilgrimage a truth-seeker, heart and soul:
"When I would search the truths that in me burn,
And mould them into rule and argument,
A hundred reasoners cried,--'Hast thou to learn
Those dreams are scatter'd now, those fires are spent?'
And, did I mount to simpler thoughts, and try
Some theme of peace, 'twas still the same reply.
Perplex'd, I hoped my heart was pure of guile,
But judged me weak in wit, to disagree;
But now, I see that men are mad awhile,
'Tis the old history--Truth without a home,
Despised and slain, then rising from the tomb."
The following is a list of the chief works of Cardinal Newman:--
The Arians of the Fourth Century, 1833; 29 Tracts to Tracts for the
Times, 1834-1841; Lyra Apostolica, 1834; Elucidations of Dr.
Hampden's Theological Statements, 1836; Parochial Sermons, 6 vols.,
1837-1842; A Letter to the Rev. G. Faussett on Certain Points of
Faith and Practice, 1838; Lectures on Justification, 1838; Sermons on
Subjects of the Day, 1842; Plain Sermons, 1843; Sermons before the
University of Oxford, 1843; The Cistercian Saints of England, 1844;
An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, 1845; Loss and
Gain, 1848; Discourse addressed to Mixed Congregations, 1849;
Lectures on Certain Difficulties Felt by Anglicans in Catholic
Teaching, 1850; Lectures on the Present Position of Catholics in
England, 1851; The Idea of a University, 1852; Callista, 1856; Mr.
Kingsley and Dr. Newman, 1864; Apologia pro Vita Sua, 1864; The Dream
of Gerontius, 1865; Letter to the Rev. E. B. Pusey on his Eirenicon,
1866; Verses on Various Occasions, 1868; An Essay in Aid of a Grammar
of Assent, 1870; Letter addressed to His Grace the Duke of Norfolk on
Occasion of Mr. Gladstone's Expostulation, 1875; Meditations and
Devotions, 1893.
Biographies.--By W. Meynell, 1890; by Dr. Wm Barry, 1890; by R. H.
Hutton, 1891; Letters and Correspondence of J. H. Newman, during his
life in the English Church (with a brief autobiography), edited by
Miss Anne Mozley, 1891; Anglican Career of Cardinal Newman, by Rd. E.
A. Abbott, 1892; as a Musician, by E. Bellasis, 1892; by A. R. Waller
and G. H. S. Burrow, 1901; an Appreciation, by Dr. A. Whyte, 1901;
Addresses to Cardinal Newman, with his Replies, edited by Rev. W. P.
Neville, 1905; by W. Ward (in Ten Personal Studies), 1908; Newman's
Theology, by Charles Sarolea, 1908; The Authoritative Biography, by
Wilfrid P. Ward (based on Cardinal Newman's private journals and
correspondence), 1912.
CONTENTS
PART PAGE
I. Mr. Kingsley's Method of Disputation 1
II. True Mode of Meeting Mr. Kingsley 15
III. History of My Religious Opinions up to 1833 29
IV. History of My Religious Opinions from 1833 to 1839 57
V. History of My Religious Opinions from 1839 to 1841 101
VI. History of My Religious Opinions from 1841 to 1845 147
VII. General Answer to Mr. Kingsley 215
APPENDIX: Answer in Detail to Mr. Kingsley's Accusations 253
Part I
Mr. Kingsley's Method of Disputation
I cannot be sorry to have forced Mr. Kingsley to bring out in
fulness his charges against me. It is far better that he should
discharge his thoughts upon me in my lifetime, than after I am dead.
Under the circumstances I am happy in having the opportunity of
reading the worst that can be said of me by a writer who has taken
pains with his work and is well satisfied with it. I account it a
gain to be surveyed from without by one who hates the principles
which are nearest to my heart, has no personal knowledge of me to set
right his misconceptions of my doctrine, and who has some motive or
other to be as severe with me as he can possibly be.
And first of all, I beg to compliment him on the motto in his
title-page; it is felicitous. A motto should contain, as in a
nutshell, the contents, or the character, or the drift, or the
_animus_ of the writing to which it is prefixed. The words which he
has taken from me are so apposite as to be almost prophetical. There
cannot be a better illustration than he thereby affords of the
aphorism which I intended them to convey. I said that it is not more
than an hyperbolical expression to say that in certain cases a
lie is the nearest approach to truth. Mr. Kingsley's pamphlet
is emphatically one of such cases as are contemplated in that
proposition. I really believe, that his view of me is about as near
an approach to the truth about my writings and doings, as he is
capable of taking. He has done his worst towards me; but he has also
done his best. So far well; but, while I impute to him no malice, I
unfeignedly think, on the other hand, that, in his invective against
me, he as faithfully fulfils the other half of the proposition also.
This is not a mere sharp retort upon Mr. Kingsley, as will be seen,
when I come to consider directly the subject to which the words of
his motto relate. I have enlarged on that subject in various passages
of my publications; I have said that minds in different states and
circumstances cannot understand one another, and that in all cases
they must be instructed according to their capacity, and, if not
taught step by step, they learn only so much the less; that children
do not apprehend the thoughts of grown people, nor savages the
instincts of civilization, nor blind men the perceptions of sight,
nor pagans the doctrines of Christianity, nor men the experiences of
Angels. In the same way, there are people of matter-of-fact, prosaic
minds, who cannot take in the fancies of poets; and others of
shallow, inaccurate minds, who cannot take in the ideas of
philosophical inquirers. In a lecture of mine I have illustrated
this phenomenon by the supposed instance of a foreigner, who, after
reading a commentary on the principles of English Law, does not
get nearer to a real apprehension of them than to be led to accuse
Englishmen of considering that the queen is impeccable and
infallible, and that the Parliament is omnipotent. Mr. Kingsley
has read me from beginning to end in the fashion in which the
hypothetical Russian read Blackstone; not, I repeat, from malice, but
because of his intellectual build. He appears to be so constituted as
to have no notion of what goes on in minds very different from his
own, and moreover to be stone-blind to his ignorance. A modest man or
a philosopher would have scrupled to treat with scorn and scoffing,
as Mr. Kingsley does in my own instance, principles and convictions,
even if he did not acquiesce in them himself, which had been held so
widely and for so long--the beliefs and devotions and customs which
have been the religious life of millions upon millions of Christians
for nearly twenty centuries--for this in fact is the task on which he
is spending his pains. Had he been a man of large or cautious mind,
he would not have taken it for granted that cultivation must lead
every one to see things precisely as he sees them himself. But the
narrow-minded are the more prejudiced by very reason of their
narrowness. The apostle bids us "in malice be children, but in
understanding be men." I am glad to recognise in Mr. Kingsley an
illustration of the first half of this precept; but I should not be
honest, if I ascribed to him any sort of fulfilment of the second.
I wish I could speak as favourably either of his drift or of his
method of arguing, as I can of his convictions. As to his drift, I
think its ultimate point is an attack upon the Catholic Religion. It
is I indeed, whom he is immediately insulting--still, he views me
only as a representative, and on the whole a fair one, of a class or
caste of men, to whom, conscious as I am of my own integrity, I
ascribe an excellence superior to mine. He desires to impress upon
the public mind the conviction that I am a crafty, scheming man,
simply untrustworthy; that, in becoming a Catholic, I have just found
my right place; that I do but justify and am properly interpreted by
the common English notion of Roman casuists and confessors; that I
was secretly a Catholic when I was openly professing to be a
clergyman of the Established Church; that so far from bringing, by
means of my conversion, when at length it openly took place, any
strength to the Catholic cause, I am really a burden to it--an
additional evidence of the fact, that to be a pure, german, genuine
Catholic, a man must be either a knave or a fool.
These last words bring me to Mr. Kingsley's method of disputation,
which I must criticise with much severity;--in his drift he does but
follow the ordinary beat of controversy, but in his mode of arguing
he is actually dishonest.
He says that I am either a knave or a fool, and (as we shall see by
and by) he is not quite sure which, probably both. He tells his
readers that on one occasion he said that he had fears I should "end
in one or other of two misfortunes." "He would either," he continues,
"destroy his own sense of honesty, _i.e._ conscious truthfulness--and
become a dishonest person; or he would destroy his common sense,
_i.e._ unconscious truthfulness, and become the slave and puppet
seemingly of his own logic, really of his own fancy.... I thought for
years past that he had become the former; I now see that he has
become the latter." (p. 20). Again, "When I read these outrages upon
common sense, what wonder if I said to myself, 'This man cannot
believe what he is saying?'" (p. 26). Such has been Mr. Kingsley's
state of mind till lately, but now he considers that I am possessed
with a spirit of "almost boundless silliness," of "simple
credulity, the child of scepticism," of "absurdity" (p. 41), of a
"self-deception which has become a sort of frantic honesty" (p. 26).
And as to his fundamental reason for this change, he tells us, he
really does not know what it is (p. 44). However, let the reason be
what it will, its upshot is intelligible enough. He is enabled at
once, by this professed change of judgment about me, to put forward
one of these alternatives, yet to keep the other in reserve;--and
this he actually does. He need not commit himself to a definite
accusation against me, such as requires definite proof and admits of
definite refutation; for he has two strings to his bow;--when he is
thrown off his balance on the one leg, he can recover himself by the
use of the other. If I demonstrate that I am not a knave, he may
exclaim, "Oh, but you are a fool!" and when I demonstrate that I am
not a fool, he may turn round and retort, "Well, then, you are a
knave." I have no objection to reply to his arguments in behalf of
either alternative, but I should have been better pleased to have
been allowed to take them one at a time.
But I have not yet done full justice to the method of disputation,
which Mr. Kingsley thinks it right to adopt. Observe this first:--He
means by a man who is "silly" not a man who is to be pitied, but a
man who is to be _abhorred_. He means a man who is not simply weak
and incapable, but a moral leper; a man who, if not a knave, has
everything bad about him except knavery; nay, rather, has together
with every other worst vice, a spice of knavery to boot. _His_
simpleton is one who has become such, in judgment for his having once
been a knave. _His_ simpleton is not a born fool, but a self-made
idiot, one who has drugged and abused himself into a shameless
depravity; one, who, without any misgiving or remorse, is guilty of
drivelling superstition, of reckless violation of sacred things, of
fanatical excesses, of passionate inanities, of unmanly audacious
tyranny over the weak, meriting the wrath of fathers and brothers.
This is that milder judgment, which he seems to pride himself upon as
so much charity; and, as he expresses it, he "does not know" why.
This is what he really meant in his letter to me of January 14, when
he withdrew his charge of my being dishonest. He said, "The _tone_ of
your letters, even more than their language, makes me feel, _to my
very deep pleasure_,"--what? that you have gambled away your reason,
that you are an intellectual sot, that you are a fool in a frenzy.
And in his pamphlet, he gives us this explanation why he did not say
this to my face, viz. that he had been told that I was "in weak
health," and was "averse to controversy," (pp. 6 and 8). He "felt
some regret for having disturbed me."
But I pass on from these multiform imputations, and confine myself to
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