NEWMAN AND THE IDEA OF LAY MOVEMENTS
Ian Ker
Archbishop Gerety Lecture at Seton Hall University, January 1990
Anybody who knows anything about Newman knows that he was ahead of his
time in advocating a much greater degree of lay participation in the
life of the Church than was common in the 19th century. And, as is well
known, it is one of the principal ways in which he anticipated the
teaching of the Second Vatican Council. Still, some recapitulation and
the correction of a common misunderstanding will not be out of place
before considering the question: Does Newman's thinking on the laity
have any bearing on the contemporary phenomenon of the so-called "lay
movements"?
It was his experience as founder and first rector of the Catholic
University of Ireland that first really opened Newman's eyes to the very
low status enjoyed by the laity in the Roman Catholic Church. Of course
the Irish situation was not totally typical as the clergy there had been
forced into a peculiar ascendancy as a result of persecution and the
lack of an educated middle class. According to Irish clerical tradition,
laymen were to be "treated like good little boys" and "told to shut
their eyes and open their mouths." So at any rate Newman complained,
when he found his "desire ... to make the laity a substantive power in
the University" opposed at every turn. In particular, he wanted the
management of the finances to be in the hands of lay people (otherwise
it was like "putting one's hands into a bag"), but he was never able to
persuade the Irish bishops of the advantages of having a lay finance
committee. He was also keen that the ablest laymen available rather than
inferior priests should be appointed to chairs, the only exception being
the theology professors. Unfortunately, this policy drew Newman into
sharp collision with the Archbishop of Dublin, since some leading
members of the "young Ireland" or nationalist party were the candidates
favored by the rector, to the disgust of Archbishop Cullen who viewed
Irish nationalists much as the Ron-tan authorities viewed Italian
nationalists like Garibaldi.
Another, apparently harmless initiative of Newman, to compile a "list of
honorary members of the University," who would be "principally laymen
from Ireland or elsewhere," was also viewed with suspicion by the
archbishop.1 Indeed, Newman felt that the "fearful" "breach" between
clergy and laity constituted the principal threat to the University's
survival.2
It was Newman's sense of frustration at the hierarchical Church's
refusal to allow the laity their proper role in the life of the Church
that in fact led to his first theological writing as a Catholic. After
his return from Ireland following his resignation as rector of the
University, Newman become more and more involved in the affairs of the
organ of the liberal Catholics in England, the Rambler. In the end, he
was asked by the English bishops to intervene to secure the resignation
of the editor, an intervention which eventually led to his taking over
the editorship temporarily. Although Newman disapproved of the tone and
the more extreme views put forward in the magazine, he nevertheless very
much approved of its aims and objectives, and not least its championing
of the rights of the laity.
On May 13, 1859 Newman received a letter from a priest called John
Gillow, a professor of theology at Ushaw College, Durham, the leading
seminary in England, protesting against a passage in the May issue of
the Rambler (the first issue which New-man himself had edited) about the
bishops' recent pastorals on the Royal Commission on education. Newman
acknowledged that the passage which Gillow described as "objectionable"
was written by himself. In the passage objected to, Newman, while
apologizing for any offense the Rambler had inadvertently caused the
hierarchy, stated boldly and uncompromisingly his view that the bishops
must
really desire to know the opinion of the laity on subjects in which the
laity are especially concerned. If even in the preparation of a dogmatic
definition the faithful are consulted, as lately in the instance of the
Immaculate Conception, it is at least as natural to anticipate such an
act of kind feeling and sympathy in great practical questions ...
And he concluded with a general warning against "the misery of any
division between the rulers of the Church and the educated laity,"
coupled with a strong plea to the bishops: "Let them pardon, then, the
accidental hastiness of manner or want of ceremony of the rude Jack-tars
of their vessel, as far as it occurred, in consideration of the zeal and
energy with which they haul to the ropes and man the yards."3
Newman immediately wrote back to Gillow, tersely enquiring what the
grounds of the objection were. He also informed his own bishop, Dr.
Ullathorne, of the complaint, explaining that in the reference to the
definition of the Immaculate Conception, to which Gillow had taken
especial exception, he had only been pointing out that "the Christian
people at large were consulted on the fact of the tradition of the
Immaculate Conception in every part of the Catholic world." He was not
very surprised by Gillow's attack: "Of course the Rambler will get me
into trouble, as nearly every thing I do does." What he did not know was
that it was to elicit from him his first original theological work as a
Catholic, which marked the beginning of a theology of the Church that
was to develop slowly but surely during the next two decades. Gillow
wrote to explain that Newman's words seemed to mean that the
infallibility of the Church lay with the laity rather than the
hierarchy. Newman replied that Gillow had misunderstood the world
"consult":
To the unlearned reader the idea conveyed by "consulting" is not
necessarily that of asking an opinion. For instance, we speak of
consulting a barometer about the weather. The barometer does not give us
its opinion, but ascertains for us a fact ... I had not a dream of
understanding the word ... in the sense of asking an opinion.4
Gillow accepted the explanation without demur: it had never even
occurred to him as a theologian to use the word "consult" in such an
untheological sense.
A few days later Dr. Ullathome called to see Newman. The bishop thought
he saw "remains of the old spirit" in the Rambler. "It was irritating.
Our laity were a peaceable set, the Church was peace. They had a deep
faith- they did not like to hear that anyone doubted." Newman pointed
out that he knew from experience that the laity in Ireland, for example,
was "docile" but "unsettled." In the course of their talk, the bishop
"said something like, 'Who are the laity?' I answered that the Church
would look foolish without them..." Newman added that he saw his
connection with the Rambler as "substantially the same work" as his
mission in Dublin.5 At this interview Ullathorne advised him to give up
the editorship after the July issue. Newman agreed without hesitation.
Before, however, relinquishing the editorship, he was determined to deal
more fully with the place of the laity in the Church. The famous article
"On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine" was completed in
time for the July issue. Newman begins by defending his use of the word
"consult," which he says in ordinary English "includes the idea of
inquiring into a matter of fact, as well as making a judgment." Thus,
for example, a "physician consults the pulse of his patient; but not in
the same sense in which his patient consults him." It is in the former
sense that the Church "consults" or "regards" the faith of the laity
before defining a doctrine. The Rambler was written for lay people, not
for scholastic theologians, to whom the word "consult" would naturally
signify its Latin sense of "consult with." But if the laity's "advice,
their opinion, their judgment on the question of definition is not
asked," nevertheless, "the matter of fact, viz. their belief, is sought
for, as a testimony to that apostolical tradition, on which alone any
doctrine whatsoever can be defined." Newman not only refuses to offer
any apology for his use of the word, but implicitly rebukes his critics
by remarking, "if we do not use the vernacular, I do not see how the
bulk of the Catholic people are to be catechised or taught at all."
Because the "perfect accuracy" of a theological lecture in Latin was
lacking, "a want of this exactness" did not necessarily indicate
"self-will and undutifulnes."6
Newman's defense of his use of the word "consult" did not convince
Bishop Ullathome, who pointed out that taking advice, "that is, to seek
guidance from another's judgment, is both the Latin sense, the technical
theological sense, and the literal and primary English sense of the
word."7 One sees the Bishop's point, although it is hard to see what
other word Newman could have used. However, it is undoubtedly true that
Newman's terminology has been the source of much confusion. Indeed, many
people to this day who are only superficially acquainted with Newman's
thought readily suppose that Newman meant that the pope and bishops
ought to "consult," that is, take the advice of the people of God before
teaching or defining authoritatively. And because Newman did think that
the hierarchy should, in this sense, certainly consult with lay people
on non-doctrinal matters that are the laity's concern, the confusion has
only increased.
Having defended his use of the word "consult," Newman now turns to
consider the question, why consult the laity? The answer is plain, he
says: "because the body of the faithful is one of the witnesses to the
fact of the tradition of revealed doctrine, and because their consensus
through Christendom is the voice of the Infallible Church." There are
"channels of tradition," through which "the tradition of the Apostles,
committed to the whole Church ... manifests itself variously at various
times," none of which "may be treated with disrespect," even though the
hierarchy has sole responsibility for "discerning and discriminating,
defining, promulgating and enforcing any portion of that tradition." He
himself, he explains, is "accustomed to lay great stress on the
consensus fidelium" in order to compensate for the lack of testimony
from bishops and theologians in favor of defined points of doctrine. At
the time of the definition of the Immaculate Conception, Bishop
Ullathorne had referred to the faith of the laity as a "reflection" of
the teaching of the Church, and Newman comments with dry irony:
"Reflection; that is, the people are a mirror, in which the bishops see
themselves. Well, I suppose a person may consult his glass, and in that
way may know things about himself which he can learn in no other way."8
He now proceeds to his celebrated historical example drawn from that
period of the early Church's history which he had studied so deeply and
intensely as an Anglican. In spite of the fact that the 4th century was
the age of great doctors and saints, who were also bishops, like
Athanasius, Ambrose, Chrysostom and Augustine, "nevertheless in that
very day the divine tradition committed to the infallible Church was
proclaimed and maintained far more by the faithful than by the
Episcopate." During the Arian heresy, "in that time of immense confusion
the divine dogma of our Lord's divinity was proclaimed, enforced,
maintained and (humanly speaking) preserved, far more by the "Ecclesia
docta" than by the "Ecclesia docens"... the body of the episcopate was
unfaithful to its commission, while the body of the laity was faithful
to its baptism." The importance of the illustration is shown by the fact
that it occurred so early in the history of the Church and involved the
very identity of Christ. Newman boldly concludes by saying that "there
was a temporary suspense of the functions" of the teaching Church, the
unpalatable truth being that the "body of bishops failed in their
confession of the faith." The danger of the present time, when the
hierarchy was so faithful and orthodox, was that the role of the laity
would be neglected-but "each constituent portion of the Church has its
proper functions, and no portion can safely be neglected." The article
ends with an almost defiant challenge, in the well-known words:
I think certainly that the Ecclesia docens is more happy when she has
enthusiastic partisans about her than when she cuts of the faithful from
the study of her divine doctrines and requires from them a fides
implicita in her word, which in the educated classes will terminate in
indifference, and the poorer in superstitions.9
In the succeeding years Newman's concern for the place of the laity in
the Church hardly diminished as the tide of Ultramontanism rose ever
higher. For example, at "the root," he felt, of the English bishops'
hostility to English Catholics going to the universities of Oxford and
Cambridge was that "same dreadful jealousy of the laity" which he had
experienced to his cost in Dublin. It was not so much that Wiseman and
Manning were afraid (as they alleged) that Catholics would lose their
faith by going to university, but that they were, according to Newman,
simply terrified of "the natural influence" an educated laity could
exercise an influence, Newman drily observed, "which would be their
greatest, or (humanly speaking) is rather their only, defense against
the world."10 Newman also thought that the hierarchy had good reason, in
the circumstances, to be afraid of the laity, who, he believed, "could
do any thing if they chose." As for those clergy like himself who were
not enamoured of the prevailing authoritarianism and clericalism, "Our
only hope," he remarked, "is in the laity knowing their own strength and
exerting themselves."11
Years after he had resigned the rectorship of the Catholic University,
at least Newman had the satisfaction of learning that the Irish bishops
had finally agreed to laymen not only participating in the University's
financial affairs but also in its general management. He even wondered
if the University might now become "a middle station at which clergy and
laity can meet, so as to learn to understand and to yield to each other
and from which, as from a common ground, they may act in unison upon an
age, which is running headlong into infidelity." Indeed, there appeared
to be "ecclesiastics all over Europe, whose policy it is to keep the
laity at arms- length; and hence the laity have been disgusted and
become infidel, and only two parties exist, both ultras in opposite
directions."12
All this is more or less familiar ground, but I want now to turn to two
rather less well-known aspects of Newman's thinking on the lay element
in the Church. The first of them, like his idea of "consulting the
faithful in matters of doctrine," came to him from his loving study of
the early Church. At the very beginning of the Oxford Movement, Newman,
while not actually advocating the disestablishment of the Church of
England, wondered whether the time had not come for the Church to become
once again a "popular" institution. Recalling how the "early Church
threw itself on the people." He asked: "now that the Crown and
aristocracy have deserted us, must we not do so too?" His own first
public act was to start writing the first of a series of articles for
the British Magazine. "called the 'Church of the Fathers'...on the
principle of popularity as an element of Church power, as exemplified in
the history of St. Ambrose."13 In this article Newman acknowledged
diplomatically the fact that hitherto the Church of England had
"depended" on the state "is so natural and religious a position of
things when viewed in the abstract, and in its actual working has been
productive of such excellent fruits in the Church, such quietness, such
sobriety, such external propriety of conduct, and such freedom from
doctrinal excesses, that we must ever look back upon the period of
ecclesiastical history so characterized with affectionate thoughts."
But, Newman continues, mere conservatism should not prevent the
question, "what is intended by Providence to take the place of the
time-honoured instrument, which He has broken (if it be yet broken), the
regal and aristocratical power?" His own answer, which he knew would
"offend many," was, "we must look to the people." He conceded, "Who at
first sight does not dislike the thoughts of gentlemen and clergymen
depending for their maintenance and their reputation on their flocks? of
their strength, as a visible power, lying not in their birth, the
patronage of the great, and the endowment of the Church (as hitherto),
but in the homage of a multitude?" He had to confess that he had "before
now had a great repugnance to the notion" himself, but he had "overcome
it, and turned from the Government to the People," because he was
"forced to do so." The suspicion of a hint of irony is confirmed by a
later remark to the effect that "St. Ambrose and his brethren" might
"have as reasonably disbelieved the possible existence of parsonages and
pony- carriages in the 19th century, as we the existence of martyrs and
miracles in the primitive age." At any rate Newman is prepared to state
bluntly that "what may become necessary in time to come, is a more
religious state of things also." The Bible, after all, prefers the poor
to the rich, and in practice "the Church, when purest and most powerful,
has depended for its influence on its consideration with the many."14
Such was the primitive Church.
As an Anglican, Newman was not concerned with the clericalization of the
Church but rather with the contracted nature of its lay basis. He
wanted, as he put it in a letter, "to encourage Churchmen to look boldly
at the possibility of the Church's being made to dwell in the affections
of the people at large. At present it is too much a Church for the
Aristocracy, and for the poor mainly through the Aristocracy; with few
attractions for the middle classes."15 At the beginning of the Oxford
Movement, he was still prepared to concede that personally he felt that
"the most natural and becoming state of things" was "for the
aristocratical power to be the upholder of the Church", yet he could not
"deny the plain fact that in most ages the latter has been based on a
popular power."16
As a Catholic, Newman was not only anxious for recognition of the laity,
but he was also keenly aware of the need to make the Church more
"popular." He had already as an Anglican readily agreed (in a review
article) with the French Catholic thinker de Lamenais that "the Latin
Church rose to power, not by the favour of princes, but of people."
Although the Church was not "developed upon its original idea" of
"appealing to the people," nevertheless, Newman commented, "what we do
see from the first ... is, religion throwing itself upon the people."
Corruptions there may have been in the papacy, but "It was not the
breath of princes or the smiles of a court which fostered the stem and
lofty spirit of Hildebrand and Innocent. It was the neglect of self, the
renunciation of worldly pomp and ease, the appeal to the people."
However, the radical conclusion reached by Lamenais that the pope should
not only renounce his "temporalities" but "place himself at the head of
the democratic movement throughout Europe" (on the ground that "Liberty
is the cry of the day") finds no echo in the more cautious Anglican
Newman, for whom "rebellion is a sin" and "innovation" to be suspected
"on principle."17
But writing many years later as a Catholic, he wondered if Lamenais
might not turn out to be "a true prophet after all." Although the then
reigning Pope Pius IX was hardly likely to adopt "such a line of
action," still it had happened before in the time of the great
Hildebrand (Pope Gregory VII), and Newman wondered privately: "though we
may have a season of depression, as there was a hideous degradation
before Gregory, yet it may be in the counsels of Providence that the
Catholic Church may at length come out unexpectedly as a popular
power."18 These words were written in 1871, a year after the definition
of papal infallibility, when it seemed that the forces of Ultramontane
authoritarianism and clericalism had achieved their irreversible
triumph. At the time, however, Newman predicted that there would be
another Council which would modify the definition by a fuller teaching
on the nature of the Church. Certainly his tentative prediction of a
renewed, popular Catholicism may seem to have found some measure of
fulfillment in the widespread disestablishment of the Catholic Church in
Catholic Europe and Latin America since the Second Vatican Council.
In turning to the second of the two less well-known aspects of Newman's
view of the laity in the Church, we come at last to the question of the
extent to which Newman's thought and practice anticipate the rise in the
20th century of the phenomenon of the so-called "lay movement." Clearly,
the contemporary lay movements could hardly have arisen, let alone
survived, in the Ultramontane Church of Pio Nono. For they are obviously
born out of a new sense of the laity's role, a sense which pre-dates the
great Vatican II Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, which in
turn, however, confirms and ratifies both a theology and a praxis that
had been gradually developing in Europe since World War I. In practical
terms one thinks, for example, of the Legion of Mary and Opus Dei, while
the outstanding theological work must surely be Yves Congar's Lay People
in the Church: A Study for a Theology of the Laity (English tr. 1957).
In looking for anticipations in Newman of this banding together of lay
people into movements, one cannot help but recall in the first place
that Newman himself as an Anglican headed a "movement" consisting of
both clergy and laity, a movement we call the Oxford or Tractarian
Movement. In the beginning it was very much a clerical movement, the
initial idea being to form a society of clergy centered on Oxford, but
with branches spreading all over the country. However, Newman much
preferred the less structured idea of a loosely knit movement to a
formally organized society or association. He was strongly opposed, in
particular, to any kind of formal authorization of the Tracts for the
Times (which he initiated) by a committee or board. Instead, he wanted
the Tracts to be circulated by personal contact and to be personally
written by individuals.19 As he put it in the Apologia, his principle
was that "Living movements do not come of committees."20 Far from the
Tracts being intended only for the clergy, Newman was especially
delighted by a contribution from his friend John William Bowden,
precisely because he was a layman.
Theological tracts were not the only form of literature that the
Tractarians employed. Newman typically saw that the Movement must have
an imaginative as well as an intellectual appeal. And so he and his
collaborators soon began publishing "Records of the Church" or what he
called "little stories of the Apostles, Fathers etc., to familiarize the
imagination of the reader to an Apostolical state of the Church."21
Clearly this kind of propaganda was intended at least as much for the
laity as for the clergy. The same was true of the Lyra Apostolica, the
verse section in the British Magazine which he and Hurrell Froude had
conceived of a year before the Movement proper began, hoping to advance
their religious views through what Newman called the "rhetoric" and
"persuasion" of poetry.22 When the verses were published in book form in
1836, Newman was amazed by their remarkable success in advancing
"Apostolical views," as he told a woman friend, Maria Gibeme, herself
intimately involved in the Movement. Newman was keen that Maria should
try her hand at writing "some Apostolic stories" for children and hoped
that she could collaborate with his sister Jemima and sister-in-law Anne
Mozley. What he thought was really needed was "a library on all subjects
for the middle classes and the Clergy."23 In other words, he wanted the
Movement to be propagated by every possible kind of writing, for the
laity as well as the clergy, and for women and children as well as men.
Since fiction was becoming a particularly effective medium of
communication and since practitioners of the art were often women
(including Newman's own sister Harriett, herself a successful author of
children's books), lay women played a significant role in the Tractarian
Movement. If the great Tractarian poet was a clergyman, John Keble, the
great Tractarian novelist was a woman, Charlotte M. Yonge.
When Newman looked back at such prominent precursors of the Movement as
Alexander Knox, the Irish theologian, and the Romantic philosopher and
poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, he was struck by the fact that they were
both "laymen and that is very remarkable," as was Dr. Johnson, "another
striking instance."24 Many of the leading members of the Tractarian
Movement were laymen, often prominent in public life. It was the absence
of this kind of easy collaboration between clergy and laity that struck
Newman so unfavorably when he became a Catholic.
When the Roman Catholic hierarchy was restored to England in 1850, a
storm of anti-Popery erupted in the face of this so-called "Papal
Aggression." Newman's response to the publicly orchestrated campaign
against Catholics is very interesting. He thought it could be profitably
exploited by making it an excuse for "getting up a great organization,
going round the towns giving lectures, or making speeches,... starting a
paper, a review etc." He recommended gathering laymen to speak at public
meetings in the big towns. Young Catholics particularly, he felt, should
band together as the Tractarians had. In other words he saw the
possibility of another "movement," although this time he seems to have
seen it as much more lay than clerical. He seems to have sensed that
here was the potential beginning of another movement like Tractarianism,
the occasion being again the persecution of the Church, although this
time a different Church. Now the condemnations of the Tracts for the
Times and the suspension of preachers by the authorities at Oxford might
be matched by the fining, imprisonment and even transportation of
recalcitrant Catholic bishops. But, as in the past, Newman sadly
realized that the bishops would not rise to the occasion. However, now
his main complaint was that the Catholic bishops had not bothered nor
did they intend to consult the laity on the best course of action to
take. His own bishop, he was convinced, "has a terror of laymen, and I
am sure they may be made in this day the strength of the Church."25
Newman himself embarked on a series of public lectures in June 1851,
which were intended to counteract the traditional English prejudice
against Catholicism. They were published in book form as Lectures on the
Present Position of Catholics in England: Addressed to the Brothers of
the Oratory. These "Brothers of the Oratory" constituted the so-called
"Little Oratory," which was the confraternity of laymen traditionally
attached to an Oratory. Of all the Oratorian activities and works,
Newman considered this as "more important than anything else."26 The
Oratory, after all had started in Rome as a kind of lay movement led by
St. Philip Neri the so-called "Apostle of Rome." It had not been
intended to be another congregation or order of priests. The first
"Oratory" was simply the group of laymen that gathered for discussion
and prayer and study with St. Philip. Actual community fife came later
when an inner or "core" group began to live together, three of whose
members were ordained to the priesthood. We can see from Newman's
surviving Oratory papers27 that he was very conscious of the original
lay basis of what eventually developed into the Congregation of the
Oratory, in which the few lay members would be subordinated to the
priestly majority. In recognizing the "Little Oratory" as indispensably
attached to the Oratory, Newman was consciously or unconsciously
adverting to the Oratory's essentially lay antecedents. Not content with
the traditional "Little Oratory" of laymen, Newman in 1856 proposed to
the Pope "the formation of a female [little] Oratory."28 Of course a
"Little Oratory" only consisted of a relatively small number of lay
people closely associated with the local Oratory. But when we take into
account Newman's hope that the Oratory would spread through the cities
and towns in England, we can see how such an extended "Little Oratory"
would in fact have formed a kind of widespread lay movement, although it
would be as loosely knit as would the individual autonomous Oratories.
Needless to say, Newman's dream was never fulfilled.
In our own day the various flourishing lay movements differ greatly in
the extent of their organization and structure, with the closely knit,
hierarchical Opus Dei at one extreme, and at the other extreme a
multitude of loosely affiliated and more or less structured or
unstructured prayer groups and communities belonging to the Charismatic
Renewal movement. Newman's own connection with, or interest in, lay
movements to some extent reflects this variety. For on the one hand he
deplored attempts to organize the Tractarian Movement into an organized
association or society with rules and officers, while on the other hand
his own vocation as an Oratorian priest involved him closely in a lay
group with a definite framework and link with a priestly community
itself bound, albeit loosely, by a canonical rule.
There are many today in the Church who see the various and diverse lay
movements as a contemporary equivalent of the early monks or the
medieval friars or the Jesuits of the Counter-Reformation, in both
renewing the Church herself and in evangelizing the world. Perhaps in
conclusion we may say that not only was Cardinal Newman's theology of
the laity a brave and brilliant anticipation of Lumen Gentium, but his
concern that the Church should once again become a Church of the people
and his acute insight into the apostolic potential of lay people
"banding together" foreshadows both the "base communities" and the lay
movements of the Church of the 20th century.
Reverend Ian Ker is a member of the theology faculty of Oxford
University where he also serves as Catholic Chaplain.
Notes
Autobiographical Writings, ed. Henry Tristram (New York: Sheed and Ward,
1957),326-8.
The Letters and Diaries of John Henry Newman, ed. Charles Stephen
Dessain et al., (London: Nelson, 1%1-72, Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1978-84), vol. xvii, p. 514. Hereafter abbreviated as LD.
LD xix. 129-30.
LD xix. 131, 133, 135.
LD xix. 140-1.
On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine, ed. John Coulson
(London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1961), 54-6, 62. Hereafter abbreviated as
Cons.
LD xix. 146 n. 1.
Cons. 63, 72.
Cons. 75-7, 106.
LD xxi. 327.
LD xxi. 384, 398.
LD xxvi. 394.
LD iv. 14, 18.
Historical Sketches, vol. i pp. 340-2, 364. All references to Newman's
collected works are to the Longmans uniform edition.
LD v. 275.
LD iv. 35.
Essays Critical and Historical, vol. i pp. 150-1, 153-4, 157, 159.
LD xxv. 442.
See Ian Ker, John Henry Newman: A Biography (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1988), pp. 81, 84-5.
Apologia pro Vita Sua, ed. Martin J. Svaglic (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1967), p. 46.
LD iv. 109.
LD iii. 121.
LD v. 385, 387; vi. 32.
LD v. 27.
LD xix. 214, 252.
LD xiv. 274.
Newman the Oratorian: His unpublished Oratory Papers, ed. Placid Murray,
O.S.B. (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1%9).
LD xvii. 137
