eminent victorians-第3章

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intolerance　than　even　clever　young　men　usually　possess。　What　was

singular　about　him；　however；　was　not　so　much　his　temper　as　his

tastes。　The　sort　of　ardour　which　impels　more　normal　youths　to

haunt　Music　Halls　and　fall　in　love　with　actresses　took　the　form；

in　Froude's　case；　of　a　romantic　devotion　to　the　Deity　and　an

intense　interest　in　the　state　of　his　own　soul。　He　was　obsessed　by

the　ideals　of　saintliness；　and　convinced　of　the　supreme

importance　of　not　eating　too　much。　He　kept　a　diary　in　which　he

recorded　his　delinquencies；　and　they　were　many。　'I　cannot　say

much　for　myself　today；'　he　writes　on　September　29th；　1826　（he　was

twenty…three　years　old）。　'I　did　not　read　the　Psalms　and　Second

Lesson　after　breakfast；　which　I　had　neglected　to　do　before；

though　I　had　plenty　of　time　on　my　hands。　Would　have　liked　to　be

thought　adventurous　for　a　scramble　I　had　at　the　Devil's　Bridge。

Looked　with　greediness　to　see　if　there　was　a　goose　on　the　table

for　dinner；　and　though　what　I　ate　was　of　the　plainest　sort；　and　I

took　no　variety；　yet　even　this　was　partly　the　effect　of　accident；

and　I　certainly　rather　exceeded　in　quantity；　as　I　was　fuzzy　and

sleepy　after　dinner。'　'I　allowed　myself　to　be　disgusted；　with　

's　pomposity；'　he　writes　a　little　later；　'also　smiled　at　an

allusion　in　the　Lessons　to　abstemiousness　in　eating。　I　hope　not

from　pride　or　vanity；　but　mistrust；　it　certainly　was

unintentional。'　And　again；　'As　to　my　meals；　I　can　say　that　I　was

always　careful　to　see　that　no　one　else　would　take　a　thing　before

I　served　myself；　and　I　believe　as　to　the　kind　of　my　food；　a　bit

of　cold　endings　of　a　dab　at　breakfast；　and　a　scrap　of　mackerel　at

dinner；　are　the　only　things　that　diverged　from　the　strict　rule　of

simplicity。'　'I　am　obliged　to　confess；'　he　notes；　'that　in　my

intercourse　with　the　Supreme　Being；　I　am　be　come　more　and　more

sluggish。'　And　then　he　exclaims：　'Thine　eye　trieth　my　inward

parts；　and　knoweth　my　thoughts　。。。　Oh　that　my　ways　were　made　so

direct　that　I　might　keep　Thy　statutes。　I　will　walk　in　Thy

Commandments　when　Thou　hast　set　my　heart　at　liberty。'



Such　were　the　preoccupations　of　this　young　man。　Perhaps　they

would　have　been　different；　if　he　had　had　a　little　less　of　what

Newman　describes　as　his　'high　severe　idea　of　the　intrinsic

excellence　of　Virginity'；　but　it　is　useless　to　speculate。



Naturally　enough　the　fierce　and　burning　zeal　of　Keble　had　a

profound　effect　upon　his　mind。　The　two　became　intimate　friends；

and　Froude；　eagerly　seizing　upon　the　doctrines　of　the　elder　man；

saw　to　it　that　they　had　as　full　a　measure　of　controversial

notoriety　as　an　Oxford　common　room　could　afford。　He　plunged　the

metaphysical　mysteries　of　the　Holy　Catholic　Church　into　the

atmosphere　of　party　politics。　Surprised　Doctors　of　Divinity　found

themselves　suddenly　faced　with　strange　questions　which　had　never

entered　their　heads　before。　Was　the　Church　of　England；　or　was　it

not；　a　part　of　the　Church　Catholic？　If　it　was；　were　not　the

Reformers　of　the　sixteenth　century　renegades？　Was　not　the

participation　of　the　Body　and　Blood　of　Christ　essential　to　the

maintenance　of　Christian　life　and　hope　in　each　individual？　Were

Timothy　and　Titus　Bishops？　Or　were　they　not？　If　they　were；　did　it

not　follow　that　the　power　of　administering　the　Holy　Eucharist　was

the　attribute　of　a　sacred　order　founded　by　Christ　Himself？　Did

not　the　Fathers　refer　to　the　tradition　of　the　Church　as　to

something　independent　of　the　written　word；　and　sufficient　to

refute　heresy；　even　alone？　Was　it　not；　therefore；　God's　unwritten

word？　And　did　it　not　demand　the　same　reverence　from　us　as　the

Scriptures；　and　for　exactly　the　same　reasonBECAUSE　IT　WAS　HIS

WORD？　The　Doctors　of　Divinity　were　aghast　at　such　questions；

which　seemed　to　lead　they　hardly　knew　whither；　and　they　found　it

difficult　to　think　of　very　apposite　answers。　But　Hurrell　Froude

supplied　the　answers　himself　readily　enough。　All　Oxford；　all

England；　should　know　the　truth。　The　time　was　out　of　joint；　and　he

was　only　too　delighted　to　have　been　born　to　set　it　right。



But；　after　all；　something　more　was　needed　than　even　the

excitement　of　Froude　combined　with　the　conviction　of　Keble　to

ruffle　seriously　the　vast　calm　waters　of　Christian　thought；　and

it　so　happened　that　that　thing　was　not　wanting：　it　was　the　genius

of　John　Henry　Newman。　If　Newman　had　never　lived；　or　if　his

father；　when　the　gig　came　round　on　the　fatal　morning；　still

undecided　between　the　two　Universities；　had　chanced　to　turn　the

horse's　head　in　the　direction　of　Cambridge；　who　can　doubt　that

the　Oxford　Movement　would　have　flickered　out　its　little　flame

unobserved　in　the　Common　Room　of　Oriel？　And　how　different；　too；

would　have　been　the　fate　of　Newman　himself！　He　was　a　child　of　the

Romantic　Revival；　a　creature　of　emotion　and　of　memory；　a　dreamer

whose　secret　spirit　dwelt　apart　in　delectable　mountains；　an

artist　whose　subtle　senses　caught；　like　a　shower　in　the　sunshine；

the　impalpable　rainbow　of　the　immaterial　world。　In　other　times；

under　other　skies；　his　days　would　have　been　more　fortunate。　He

might　have　helped　to　weave　the　garland　of　Meleager；　or　to　mix　the

lapis　lazuli　of　Fra　Angelico；　or　to　chase　the　delicate　truth　in

the　shade　of　an　Athenian　palaestra；　or　his　hands　might　have

fashioned　those　ethereal　faces　that　smile　in　the　niches　of

Chartres。　Even　in　his　own　age　he　might；　at　Cambridge；　whose

cloisters　have　ever　been　consecrated　to　poetry　and　common　sense；

have　followed　quietly　in　Gray's　footsteps　and　brought　into　flower

those　seeds　of　inspiration　which　now　lie　embedded　amid　the　faded

devotion　of　the　Lyra　Apostolica。



At　Oxford；　he　was　doomed。　He　could　not　withstand　the　last

enchantment　of　the　Middle　Age。　It　was　in　vain　that　he　plunged

into　the　pages　of　Gibbon　or　communed　for　long　hours　with

Beethoven　over　his　beloved　violin。　The　air　was　thick　with

clerical　sanctity；　heavy　with　the　odours　of　tradition　and　the

soft　warmth　of　spiritual　authority；　his　friendship　with　Hurrell

Froude　did　the　rest。　All　that　was　weakest　in　him　hurried　him

onward；　and　all　that　was　strongest　in　him　too。　His　curious　and

vaulting　imagination　began　to　construct　vast　philosophical

fabrics　out　of　the　writings　of　ancient　monks；　and　to　dally　with

visions　of　angelic　visitations　and　the　efficacy　of　the　oil　of　St

Walburga；　his　emotional　nature　became　absorbed　in　the　partisan

passions　of　a　University　clique；　and　his　subtle　intellect

concerned　itself　more　and　more　exclusively　with　the　dialectical

splitting　of　dogmatical　hairs。　His　future　course　was　marked　out

for　him　all　too　clearly；　and　yet　by　a　singular　chance　the　true

nature　of　the　man　was　to　emerge　triumphant　in　the　end。　If　Newman

had　died　at　the　age　of　sixty；　today　he　would　have　been　already

forgotten；　save　by　a　few　ecclesiastical　historians；　but　he　lived

to　write　his　Apologia；　and　to　reach　immortality；　neither　as　a

thinker　nor　as　a　theologian；　but　as　an　artist　who　has　embalmed

the　poignant　history　of　an　intensely　human　spirit　in　the　magical

spices　of　words。



When　Froude　succeeded　in　impregnating　Newman　with　the　ideas　of

Keble；　the　Oxford　Movement　began。　The　original　and　remarkable

characteristic　of　these　three　men　was　that　they　took　the

Christian　Religion　au　pied　de　la　lettre。　This　had　not　been　done

in　England　for　centuries。　When　they　declared　every　Sunday　that

they　believed　in　the　Holy　Catholic　Church；　they　meant　it。　When

they　repeated　the　Athanasian　Creed；　they　meant　it。　Even；　when

they　subscribed　to　the　Thirty…nine　Articles；　they　meant　it…or　at

least　they　thought　they　did。　Now　such　a　state　of　mind　was

dangerousmore　dangerous　indeed　than　they　at　first　realised。

They　had　started　with　the　innocent　assumption　that　the　Christian

Religion　was　contained　in　the　doctrines　of　the　Church　of　England；

but；　the　more　they　examined　this　matter；　the　more　difficult　and

dubious　it　became。　The　Church　of　England　bore　everywhere　upon　it

the　signs　of　human　imperfection；　it　was　the　outcome　of　revolution

and　of　compromise；　of　the　exigencies　of　politicians　and　the

caprices　of　princes；　of　the　prejudices　of　theologians　and　the

necessities　of　the　State。　How　had　it　happened　that　this　piece　of

patchwork　had　become　the　receptacle　for　the　august　and　infinite

mysteries　of　the　Christian　Faith？　This　was　the　problem　with　which

Newman　and　his　friends　found　themselves　confronted。　Other　men

might；　and　apparently　did；　see　nothing　very　strange　in　such　a

situation；　but　other　men　saw　in　Christianity　itself　scarcely　more

than　a　convenient　and　respectable　appendage　to　existence；　by

which　a　sound　system　of　morals　was　inculcated；　and　through　which

one　might　hope　to　attain　to　everlasting　bliss。



To　Newman　and　Keble　it　was　otherwise。　They　saw　a　transcendent

manifestation　of　Divine　power　flowing　down　elaborate　and　immense

through　the　ages；　a　consecrated　priesthood；　stretching　back；

through　the　mystic　symbol　of　the　laying　on　of　hands；　to　the　very

Godhead；　a　whole　universe　of　spiritual　beings　brought　into

communion　with　the　Eternal　by　means　of　wafers；　a　great　mass　of

metaphysical　doctrines；　at　once　incomprehensible　and　of

incalculable　import；　laid　down　with　infinite　certitude；　they　saw

the　supernatural　everywhere　and　at　all　times；　a　living　force；

floating　invisible　in　angels；　inspiring　saints；　and　investing

with　miraculous　properties　the　commonest　material　things。　No

wonder　that　they　found　such　a　spectacle　hard　to　bring　into　line

with　the　institution　which　had　been　evolved　from　the　divorce　of

Henry　VIII；　the　intrigues　of　Elizabethan　parliaments；　and　the

Revolution　of　1688。　They　did；　no　doubt；　soon　satisfy　themselves

that　they　had　succeeded　in　this　apparently　hopeless　task；　but；

the　conclusions　which　they　came　to　in　order　to　do　so　were

decidedly　startling。



The　Church　of　England；　they　declared；　was　indeed　the　one　true

Church；　but　she　had　been　under　an　eclipse　since　the　Reformation；

in　fact；　since　she　had　begun　to　exist。　She　had；　it　is　true；

escaped　the　corruptions　of　Rome；　but　she　had　become　enslaved　by

the　secular　power；　and　degraded　by　the　false　doctrines　of

Protestantism。　The　Christian　Religion　was　still　preserved　intact

by　the　English　priesthood；　but　it　was　preserved；　as　it　were；

unconsciouslya　priceless　deposit；　handed　down　blindly　from

generation　to　generation；　and　subsisting　less　by　the　will　of　man

than　through　the　ordinance　of　God　as　expressed　in　the　mysterious

virtue　of　the　Sacraments。　Christianity；　in　short；　had　become

entangled　in　a　series　of　unfortunate　circumstances　from　which　it

was　the　plain　duty　of　Newman　and　his　friends　to　rescue　it

forthwith。　What　was　curious　was　that　this　task　had　been　reserved；

in　so　marked　a　manner；　for　them。　Some　of　the　divines　of　the

seventeenth　century　had；　perhaps；　been　vouchsafed　glimpses　of　the

truth；　but　they　were　glimpses　and　nothing　more。　No；　the　waters　of

the　true　Faith　had　dived　underground　at　the　Reformation；　and　they

were　waiting　for　the　wand　of　Newman　to　strike　the　r