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called it afterwards) of the Roman Church would cramp and fetter intolerably an original and dominant mind like his own. And so he beat the idea back for a time, but since he went on living the old life, it recurred. He hates it, he fears it, but he is as it were fascinated by it; he cannot get away from it, and it grows on him. On he drifts, not knowing that the cause and the remedy lie in himself. There are things,' he writes in 1841, 'which I neither contemplate nor wish to contemplate, but when I am asked about them ten times a day, at length I begin to contemplate them.' Two years later he talks of the drawing to Rome as 'feelings which I wish otherwise,' and adds, 'I have all along gone against it and think I ought to do so still.'* He can give no definite reason for this drawing except a vague uneasiness of mind.

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'I cannot make out,' he writes in 1844, 'that I have any motive but a sense of indefinite risk to my soul in remaining where I am. . . . It is more than five years since the conviction first came upon me, though I struggled against it and overcame it. I believe all my feelings and wishes are against change. I have nothing to draw me elsewhere. But I cannot but think-though I can no more realise it than being made Bishop of Durham-that some day it will be and at a definite distance of time. As far as I can make out I am in the state of mind which divines call indifferentia, inculcating it as a duty to be set on nothing, but to be ready to take whatever Providence wills. How can I at my age and with my past trials be set on anything?'†

Like other over-anxious and scrupulous souls, he begins to live more strictly; and he regularly sends to Keble lists of his sins or possible sins, so that the latter may try to trace there the cause of his Romeward tendency. 'What has been my sin,' he cries more than once, 'that I am given up to a delusion, if it be one?' But the more he worried and was anxious, the worse he became. His sin, if that is the right word, was not of a kind to be remedied by microscopic examination, but by cultivating a more robust, healthy, and confident tone of mind. He needed to break away at all costs from anything that hindered the free use of his powers, he needed to stand more upon his own legs, he needed to assure

* A. Mozley, II, 377, 430.

II 445.

himself that he, John Henry Newman, fallible as he might be, had and must have the duty of using his own judgment in religion, had responsibilities of which he could not divest himself, he needed to believe in the direct guiding of the Spirit in his own heart; and the spell would have been broken, the idea of Rome would have vanished. An excellent description of his helplessness and drifting is given in a letter at the end of 1844.

'When I recollect the long time that certain views and feelings have been more or less familiar to me, and sometimes pressing on me, it would seem as if anything might happen. And I must confess that they are very much clearer and stronger than they were over a year ago. I can no more calculate how soon they may affect my will and become practical than a person who has long had a bodily ailment on him (though I hope and trust it is not an ailment) can tell when it may assume some critical shape, though it may do so any day.'*

At length he gives up the struggle and awaits the inevitable end. He tries to comfort himself with the thought that somehow or other the responsibility may be left to God. In a rather plaintive letter to his sister he writes:

'May one not resign oneself to the event, whatever it turns out to be? May one not hope and believe, though one does not see it, that God's hand is in the deed, if a deed there is to be? ... What right have you to judge me? I may be wrong, but He that judgeth me is the Lord. His ways are He may

not our ways, nor His thoughts as our thoughts. have purposes as merciful as they are beyond us. Let us do our best and leave the event to Him; He will give us strength to bear. . . . Am I not trying to do my best? May we not trust it will turn to the best?' †

The whole of this remarkable letter reveals a man who feels that he is drifting upon the rocks-' throwing himself away,' he says in another letter-but cannot now save himself and feebly hopes that a miraculous salvation will arise. And thus it came to pass that he made the great surrender and passed into the Church of Rome on Oct. 9, 1845. How he fared in that Church, we will consider in the next number of this Review.

*

II, 432.

† II, 460.

J. F. MOZLEY.

Art. 6.-IRISH HISTORY SINCE THE UNION.

History of Ireland, 1798-1924. By the Rt Hon. Sir James O'Connor, K.C. 2 Vols. Arnold, 1925.

THE publication of this work is a matter of great historical and social importance. The majority of the writers of Irish History have been but too ready to represent incidents in the past as bearing upon the political controversies of the present day. This cannot be said of them all. The late Richard Bagwell, D.C.L., though a man of the strongest Unionist views, succeeded in his well-known 'History of Ireland in Tudor and Stuart Times,' in giving an impartial view of the events in those days. Froude in his brilliant writing cannot conceal a violent anti-Irish bias. Lecky, one of the most scrupulous of men, though a sincere Unionist to the end of his life, started with an excessive admiration of Irish popular movements, from which he was never able to emancipate himself.

It is important to know who Sir James O'Connor is, and to consider the environment in which he was

brought up. His whole life has been spent in an intensely Nationalist atmosphere. He is a Roman Catholic and deeply attached to his country and his Church. After some time spent in practice as a solicitor, he was called to the Bar, and very rapidly went to the top of his profession: he became Solicitor-General, then Attorney-General, then a Judge of the High Court in the Chancery Division, from which last position he was promoted to be a Lord Justice of Appeal. As a lawyer he stands in the very front rank, and few Irishmen of his time have possessed a contemplative power so deep, or a vision so keen. Above all, he stands out as a man of the highest courage. The well-meaning self-righteous Englishman he convicts of criminal stupidity-yielding when he should stand firm and inexorable at the wrong time. The self-deceiving dishonest Irishman, living and moving in the great game of deceit, he tramples on with scorn and contempt. His legal training has put him in a position, from which he can look on affairs with an eye more or less impartial. There are not many who will be able to agree with him throughout, Vol. 246.-No. 487.

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but there is hardly any one who will fail to recognise the transparent honesty of a writer, who though still a Home Ruler, and one who approves of the Treaty, has no words strong enough to denounce the means used to bring it about. While full of admiration for Mr Kevin O'Higgins, whom he considers a prodigy, he has his doubts as to the future, and is by no means convinced that political assassination is a sound foundation for any Christian State.

The old catch cries which have been the stock of every agitator from O'Connell to Parnell, and by which the minds of the Irish and a large number of the British people have been poisoned, ought henceforth to be heard no more. Among the more prominent of the false beliefs which have held the field so long and have been responsible for the embittered relations of Great Britain and Ireland are the following-that the English Government deliberately provoked the rebellion of 1798 in order to carry the Union; that the Union was carried by a vast scheme of money bribes; that Roman Catholic opinion was unanimous against it; that Pitt broke his word; that Ireland's prosperity languished under the Union; that Ireland was over-taxed under it; that England caused the famine of 1848 and took no real steps to relieve it; that in the landlord and tenant struggle the right was always on the tenant's side. The writer ruthlessly demolishes all these baseless and mischievous beliefs, but we cannot be certain that they will not emerge in some form if required, in the future. Sir James draws a wonderful picture of O'Connell, perhaps the greatest demagogue that ever lived. He had all the qualifications for swaying at will an emotional and ignorant people: he had a commanding figure and a magnificent voice; he knew every turn and twist of the Irish peasant's mind, and could appeal effectively in turn as pleased him, to his religion or his greed; his success as an advocate was immense, though he could hardly be called a lawyer at all; he is reputed to have received the largest income ever made at the Irish Bar-8000l. p.a.; he was eloquent, ingenious, and tricky; he browbeat and insulted judges, and his speeches were nearly always unscrupulous if not dishonest. When he became a professional agitator he sacrificed all his legal career, but

he was well compensated by the famous Tribute; in the first year after Emancipation it reached 50,000l., and from 1829 to 1834 he swept in more than 91,000l. In the matter of personal courage he stands high, and the way he faced d'Esterre, a noted duellist, was admired by all classes. He poured the foulest abuse on his opponents and on the English people-'the most besotted and dishonest that had ever been in the world.' He called Wellington 'a stunted corporal,' 'the chance victor of Waterloo'-Lyndhurst, ‘a lying miscreant,' 'a contumelious cur'-Hardinge,' a one-armed ruffian '—D'Israeli, 'a disgrace to his species'; he declared that nineteen out of every twenty English women had illegitimate children before marriage, and yet he fawned on and flattered George III and presented a laurel crown to George IV when he landed at Kingstown in 1821. Sir James O'Connor believes that he debauched the Irish people morally and mentally, and that much of their dishonesty and shiftiness of character is due to his successful example. When he was sent to Richmond Penitentiary for sedition, the Roman Catholic Bishops framed a prayer for public use, beseeching God that grace might be granted to him and his friends to bear their trials with fortitude, but the prisoners had a royal time. The Governor and the deputy Governor turned out of their quarters to make room for them; they had their own servants and were supplied by their friends with every luxury. O'Connell, the most attractive of hosts, entertained distinguished guests at a grand banquet every night. Then came the writ of error, and the House of Lords by a majority of one set aside the proceedings, and put an end to these delightful festivities -base English Justice! The Liberator, when liberated, went home in a cab-which was a sad error, for his stage managers had other views. The book gives a most amusing account of the great prisoner being obliged to return to the prison, where he begged to be taken in. This was managed with difficulty, and on the next day he was liberated by the people of Ireland in a procession six miles long with bands and banners-the hero sitting on the top of a triumphal chariot of three platforms and drawn by six horses.

The man was a mass of contradictions. He was

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