Project Canterbury

Life of Edward Bouverie Pusey
by Henry Parry Liddon, D.D.

London: Longmans, 1894
volume two

Transcribed by The Revd R D Hacking
AD 2002









PUSEY had been suspended at the end of the Summer Term of 1843. Before the next Term began, Newman had resigned the Vicarage of St. Mary' s.

He has himself pointed out the significance of this step, and how it followed upon a long series of misgivings which had been created by his study of the Monophysite and Donatist controversies, and fostered by the affairs of the Jerusalem Bishopric, Tract 90, and the reiterated Epis–copal Charges which had followed. Nor can it be doubted that the proceedings in connexion with Pusey' s sermon on the Holy Eucharist had had their effect in hastening his resolution. All these events appeared to Newman to show that the English Church, so far as she was represented by Ecclesiastical authority in England, offered no welcome or home to primitive and Catholic teaching, but rather treated it as something foreign to her spirit.

As often happens, an incident of less moment, but touch–ing Newman very closely, at last precipitated his decision. A young man who had been for a year living with him at Littlemore, and whose loyalty to the English Church had been the subject of correspondence between Newman and Pusey in August, 1842, suddenly joined the Church of Rome. Newman  'felt it impossible to remain any longer in the service of the Anglican Church, when such a breach of trust, however little he had to do with it, would be laid at his door.'  It made him realize most clearly how little control he really exercised over his younger followers, and also how great was the attraction of Rome to himself.  'The truth is,'  he writes to J. B. Mozley on Sept. I,  'I am not a good son enough of the Church of England to feel that I can in conscience hold preferment under her. I love the Church of Rome too well .'

Pusey could not but be greatly distressed and shocked at such a decision, though it could not have taken him by surprise. Newman had talked to him as well as Keble on the subject in the preceding Lent. But Pusey had endeavoured to act on the maxim of hoping against hope in Newman' s case so successfully that he had up to this point been blind to what was going on in Newman' s mind, and still more to what was, humanly speaking, inevitable. From the year 1838 their paths had been diverging from each other. It may be doubted whether Pusey really appreciated the extent of the divergence. He constantly threw himself into Newman' s language and position, out of love and trust and deference, and in cases where his own unbiassed inclinations would have counselled hesitation: and he received in turn from Newman constant proofs of affection and sympathy which, although never intended to do so, were likely to disguise the realities of the situation. Newman himself was well aware of this: and Pusey, it must be added, had had opportunities of recognizing it too. Mr. T. Morris'  remarkable letter in 1841 was one of several indications which a less resolutely hopeful mind than Pusey' s would have appreciated more accurately than he did. But it must be remembered that Keble, not Pusey, was at this eventful time Newman' s real confidant: indeed this had been the case for some five years; as was natural enough. For Keble was the older man, and sympathized more nearly with Newman' s feelings as regards the Reformation. Of his strong inclination towards Rome, Keble of course was aware: to Pusey Newman could not at present break it. James Mozley was the only person in Oxford to whom he had explained the real state of things.

The first intimation to Pusey of his immediate intention of resigning was as follows:--


Friday, Aug. 25, 18433.

With yours one has come from Lockhart, who has been away three weeks, saying he is on the point of joining the Church of Rome; he is in retreat under Dr. Gentili.

How sick this makes one! the sooner I resign St. Mary' s the better--but I will not act hastily.

Pusey replied at once:--

Dover, it S. after Trinity, Aug. 27, 1843.

It is indeed very sad; I had hoped that once received within the  'mone'  he was safe. It is the sorest trial of all: one becomes indifferent to what is said of, or done to, one' s-self; one becomes accustomed to hear even those one loves and reverences evil-spoken-of, thinking it a con–sequence of what one loves and reverences in them; but these things are heavy, because one sympathizes with those who cause the sorrow, and our Church has not yet the strength to hold such. It is very dejecting, year after year, but it too must have its end, in humbling and purifying our Church.

I know the bitterness of losing at last those whom one tried to save; but  'blessed is he whom Thou chastenest, O Lord.'

With regard to St. Mary' s, you will not have thought that, after what you told me, I had any feeling but that of sorrow, that it ought to be so. I thought that you probably meant to avoid connecting your resignation with any act, e.g. my suspension, lest it should cause perplexity. Some perplexity it must for the time cause; but every–thing else has been turned to good, and so will this too, and all which duty requires.

God comfort you at all times with that comfort wherewith you have comforted others and me.


Newman resigned his living on Sept. 18. Writing to Pusey three days later, Keble described himself as much grieved but not surprised at Newman' s having given up St. Mary' s, and asked Pusey what he thought of it. In the same letter he also asked how Pusey was accustomed to meet the Roman challenge about visible unity.


[Sept. 23, 1843.]

N.' s giving up St. Mary' s is a great blow; I said what I could against it in Lent, but he then told me a private reason, which he said he had named to you,--that young men, who looked in a given direc–tion, misunderstood him, and interpreted in their own sense whatever be said, so that he was in fact leading them whither he wished not.. lie said that he had named this to you, and that you had said (to the effect) that  'you doubted whether in his situation you could retain St. Mary' s without sin,'  or  'whether he could retain it without sin.'  After this, I had nothing more to say; had it been on public grounds only, I would have urged all I could, but, as it was matter of con–science, I dared say nothing. This seems hardly to agree with your impression; however, it is done now, so do not say anything to N. about my impression.

My feeling about unity is, I believe, the same as N[ewman' s], that we have a degree of unity left, although not the highest sort, yet that there is enough to make the Roman, Greek, and our own Church parts of the one Church, though, with holiness, unity has been im–paired, and we all together suffer for it. It has come as a comfort to me that most of the marks of unity, mentioned in Eph. iv, remain, and that so we maybe one body still, as having the Presence of the One Spirit, One Lord, one hope, one faith (that of the Creeds sanctioned by the whole Church), one baptism, One God and Father of all. The very language of St. Cyprian seems also a comfort, since he insists so much that what is really cut off must die; since then our present state after 300 years shows that, however maimed, we have a vigorous and increasing life, we are not cut off. I cannot but strongly hope that however the Reformation may have been carried on, it has been overruled, so that our Church should be the means of some great end in acting upon the whole Church, and that through her means we may all be brought into one upon some primitive basis. At present, we seem providentially kept apart, lest we borrow each others'  sins. If but holiness grow in both, then all the hindrances to union will somehow fall off, like Samson' s withs. While then we are promoting, by His help, truth and holiness, we are in the most direct way preparing for union.

I cannot think much of the Roman challenge for a more visible unity, which one should have expected from Holy Scripture, until they can show the holiness also, which Holy Scripture foretells; if they did, or when they do, we shall soon be at one. At present, the whole Church seems to have forfeited the highest degrees of both; it was through want of holiness that the schism of East and West began; good Romanists confess that the schism at the Reformation was owing to the sins of the whole Church; with returning holiness unity in its higher degrees would return.

                  *                        *                          *                            *                              *

It seems as if heavy times were coming, and that we were but at  'the beginning of sorrows.'  However, we do  'see our signs' ; so heavy nights are but to usher in a joyous morning.

                                        Ever your very affectionate and grateful friend,

                                                                                                            E. B. P.

Two days after writing this letter, on Monday, Sept. 25, Pusey was at Littlemore, on an occasion sadly memorable in the history of the English Church. It was the seventh anniversary of the consecration of the chapel, and as Newman had resigned St. Mary' s just a week before, it was understood that this would be his farewell sermon: perhaps only a few felt instinctively that it might be, as it was, his last sermon from a pulpit of the Church of England. But whether clearly or dimly, the importance of the occasion was realized; and although it was vacation and a Monday morning, and a day without any place in the Church calendar, the chapel was full of friends who had come from Oxford. The service was, as always, simple: on the previous anniversary Newman had described the ceremonial as  'poor and mean and unworthy,'  like the widow' s offering, who yet did  'what she could'  It seems, however, that the church was decorated with flowers--not so common an adjunct of worship then as now; and that the service was musical. When New–man mounted the pulpit, there was a kind of awestruck silence: everybody knew that something would be said which nobody would ever forget. And the  'Parting of Friends'  is perhaps the most pathetic of all the sermons of this greatest master of religious pathos: it is the last and most heartbroken expression of the intense distress which could not but be felt by a man of extraordinary sensitiveness when placed -between what he believed to be a new call of duty on one side, and the affection of high-minded and devoted friends on the other: it is the cry which tells the world that a work of spiritual and religious restoration, to which no parallel had been witnessed in Europe for at least three centuries, was, at least to the mind of one who had hitherto had the chief hand in promoting it, a failure.

The sermon is the outpouring of the preacher' s thoughts at the moment about the Church, his friends, and himself. The notes throughout are a sense of failure and disappoint–ment and the bidding farewell. The concluding apostrophe to the Church of his birth gives pathetic utterance to the perplexity and sorrow that filled so many hearts at that most critical moment:--

 'O my mother, whence is this unto thee, that thou hast good things poured upon thee and canst not keep them, and bearest children, yet darest not own them? Why hast thou not the skill to use their services, nor the heart to rejoice in their love? how is it that whatever is generous in purpose, and tender or deep in devotion, thy flower and thy promise, falls from thy bosom and finds no home within thine arms? Who bath put this note upon thee to have  " a miscarrying womb and dry breasts," to be strange to thine own flesh, and thine eye cruel towards thy little ones? Thine own offspring, the fruit of thy womb, who love thee and would toil for thee, thou dost gaze upon with fear, as though a portent, or thou dost loathe as an offence--at best thou dost but endure, as if they had no claim but on thy patience, self-possession and vigilance, to be rid of them as easily as thou mayest. Thou makest them  " stand all the day idle," as the very con–dition of thy bearing with them; or thou biddest them be gone, where they will be more welcome; or thou sellest them for nought to the stranger that passes by. And what wilt thou do in the end thereof?'

Few who were present could restrain from tears. Pusey, who was the celebrant, was quite unable to control himself On the evening of this sad day, he wrote to his brother William:--


Christ Church, Sept. 25, 1843.

                           *                           *                          *                         *

I am just returned, half broken-hearted, from the commemoration at Littlemore. The sermon was like one of Newman' s, in which self was altogether repressed, yet it showed the more how deeply he felt all the misconception of himself. It implied, rather than said, Farewell. People sobbed audibly, and I, who officiated at the altar, could hardly help mingling sorrow with even that Feast. However,  'the peace of God which passeth all understanding,'  closed all.

If our Bishops did but know what faithful hearts, devoted to the service of our Lord in this His Church, they are breaking! Yet,  'at eventide there will be light.'

                           *                           *                          *                         *

Be not downcast at what I have written. There must be heavy night before the joyous morning; first evening, then morning. God bring us all to that morning.

The sermon at Littlemore, although the last sermon, was not the last public ministration of its author in the English Church. Once more he was to celebrate in his own church of St. Mary' s; while the friends who owed everything to him gathered round the altar, with conflicting emotions of hope and fear. Some who were present in the gloom of that early October morning, felt that they were assisting at the funeral of a religious effort which had failed. Others, perhaps, were already anticipating, not very distinctly, the future which was awaiting--but still at a distance of two years--their trusted friend and teacher. Pusey was, as always, hopeful that, in some way not as yet clear, all might yet be well. The service itself, and Newman' s part in it, were a warrant of his sanguineness.


Oct. 14, 1843.

I did hope to be at the H. C. to-morrow, and when you mentioned to me that L. would be absent, it occurred to me that as, in happier days, humanly speaking, at the beginning of the weekly Communion at St. Mary' s, I assisted you, so I might, if so it be, be joined with you at the close of your office there, and we might end together. Unless then it were a comfort to some (which it might be) to receive both'  from you, it would be such to me, to assist; only I should (as I imagine you meant) specially wish to assist only, and that you should con–secrate.

                                                  Ever yours very affectionately,

                                                                                             E. B. P.

Newman' s resignation was quickly followed by another trouble, which - touched Pusey closely. During the last four years the Rev. C. Seager had been Pusey' s assistant Lecturer in Hebrew. He was an accomplished Hebrew scholar; but he was not a mere philologist; he loved and read the Fathers, and he was fond of pastoral work. Without any warning, however, he joined the Church of Rome just before the beginning of the October Term. Pusey knew full well that Seager' s secession would add to the difficulties of his position in Oxford. Writing to Dr. Todd, he observed:--

 'Oct. 25, 1843.

 'I would not displace him, as he taught only the grammar of Hebrew, and did not influence the young men; and I feared to unsettle him, or drive him off to Rome. So now he has left me with all the odium which could attach to me. However, I have done righteously by him.'

The news was hailed with natural exultation by Pusey' s opponents, especially by such of them as achieved notoriety by controversial agitation.



Seager has joined the Church of Rome. I send you this news to meditate upon on your way to Oxford to-morrow. . . . I have just communicated the fact to the Record, Standard, and Morning Herald, and, in lieu of comment, a copy of Pusey' s last printed notice, appointing Seager to lecture for him in the Hebrew classes. .

                         Yours very sincerely,

                                       C. P. GOLIGHTLY.

 Oxford, Friday.

The effect of these events on minds of another order and more nearly related to Pusey was very emphatic. In particular, Archdeacon Manning was thoroughly alarmed by some letters from Newman which he had shown to Pusey.


Lavington, 22nd Sunday after Trinity, 1843.

                            *                              *                               *                              *

I can no longer deny that a tendency against which my whole soul turns has shown itself. It has precipitated those that are impelled by it into a position remote from that in which they stood, and from that in which I am. This has suddenly severed them (so far at least, alas!) from me. With the knowledge I communicated to you, it is an imperative duty for me to be plainly true to myself at all cost and hazard. It would be deceit to let them think I could feel anything but sorrow and dismay--or do anything but use the poor and small strength I have to save others from passing on blindfold and unawares into the same perplexities with them. I feel to have been for four years on the brink of I know not what; all the while persuading myself and others that all was well; and more--that none were so true and steadfast to the English Church; none so safe as guides. I feel as if I had been a deceiver, speaking lies (God knows, not in hypocrisy). And this has caused a sort of shock in my mind that makes me tremble. Feel for me in my position. Day after day I have been pledging myself to clergymen and laymen all about me that all was safe and sure. I have been using his books, defending, and endeavouring to spread the system which carried this dreadful secret at its heart. There remains for me nothing but to be plain henceforward on points which hitherto I have almost resented, or ridiculed the suspicion. I did so because I knew myself to be heartily true to the English Church, both affirmatively in her positive teaching, and negatively in her rejection of the Roman system and its differential points. I can do this no more. I am reduced to the painful, saddening, sickening necessity of saying what I feel about Rome.

On November 5, which fell on a Sunday in 1843, the Archdeacon had  'said what he felt'  about Rome. Mr. J. B. Mozley described it as a  'testification sermon against the British Critic.'  Mozley did not like  'either the matter or the tone.'   'He (Manning) seemed really so carried away by fear of Romanism that he almost took under his patronage the Puritans .and the Whigs of 1688 because they had settled the matter against the Pope.'  Referring to this sermon, Keble said long after,  'I always feared what would become of Manning when I heard of his violent fifth of November sermon. Exaggerations of this kind provoke a Nemesis, and it did not surprise me so much as it grieved me to hear that he had become a Roman Catholic.'

After all the controversy of the summer of 1843, and the excitement produced by Newman' s resignation, the Michael–mas Term was comparatively quiet. Newman, after an unsuccessful effort to retain the chapelry of Littlemore--an effort which was perhaps scarcely consistent with the grounds on which he had resigned St. Mary' s--had retired into lay communion. He lived in the little  'Monastery'  on the Cowley Road at Littlemore, surrounded by three or four younger friends, regularly attending the services at the village church, in which Mr. Copeland ministered, and observing the Hours in the little chapel at home. He had given fair warning to Oxford and to the world of his state of mind; but he was inevitably an object of the deepest interest to friends and opponents. Sometimes old acquaintances like Mr. Tyler, of Oriel, had an opportunity of cross-questioning him; while younger men, who had long depended on him, were anxious to ascertain, if they could, whether he was moving, and whither. Littlemore assumed in not a few minds the character of a place of pilgrimage, and the road thither was associated with meetings and conversations which gave it in many a memory a unique spiritual interest. Pusey would walk out there as often as he could, but neither as a pilgrim nor to gratify curiosity. He was intent on doing anything he could still do to retain his friend in communion with the English Church. His letters refer, once and again, to these visits, and the value he attached to them.

His own confidence in Newman was as great as ever; he could not, or rather would not, believe that he would not still remain in the Church of England. But he felt that he must be defended from misrepresentation, and cheered by the expression of the unabated affection that his friends felt for him. For instance, it was currently reported that the continued publication of Tract 90 was a breach of the obedience which Newman professed to the Bishop of Oxford. Pusey wrote to the Bishop for a contradiction of this report, asking for permission to publish his reply. The Bishop replied as follows:--

Cuddesdon, Oct. 11, 1843.


Till I received your letter this morning, I was not aware of the serious and unfounded charge brought against Mr. Newman of his having broken his faith with me by suffering a republication of Tract 90.

I lose no time in stating that when I requested the  'Tracts for the Times'  might cease, however I might have regretted the pub–lication of Tract 90, it formed no part of my injunction or request (for reasons well considered at the time) that there should be no republication of that tract.

People may feel themselves at liberty to express their opinions as to the policy or propriety of having published more editions of that tract, but the accusation of Mr. Newman' s having done so contrary to promise, is unfounded and unjust.

No one, however, who has the slightest knowledge of Mr. Newman will give a moment' s credit to such a charge of unfaithfulness in him,--and I feel sure it is unnecessary for me to state to Mr. Newman or yourself that nothing I have ever said or written can have given the remotest grounds for the accusation.

I know not, of course, from what quarter so serious a charge may come, and should, myself, deem it undeserving of notice: at the same time if you think differently, you are at liberty to make any use of this letter.

                      Believe me, my dear Sir,

                                             Faithfully yours,

                                                             R. OXFORD.

Again, when Newman' s birthday came round, Pusey sent him an engraving, with a letter which meant much more than the ordinary affectionate greeting on such an occasion. The engraving appears to have reached its destination; the note which accompanied it was dropped in the road. It ran as follows:--

Christ Church,

Quinquagesima S. [Feb. 18], 1844.


If such as I might express anything in sending what is so solemn, it would be the hope that in all the sorrows and anxieties, whereby you are to be perfected, you may be bathed and refreshed by that Sudor Sanguineus, and that as each pang comes over you, through all which is so sad around us and in too many of us (at least, such as me) and in those set over us, you will commit our Church to Him, Who endured It for us.

                        Ever yours most gratefully and affectionately,



Newman replied in terms which were evidently intended to check illusive hopes on Pusey' s part.

Littlemore, Feb. 19, I 844.


A note from you has been picked up on the road and brought to me. It relates to the present you have made me to-day, and is most kind, as all you do is.

It is, however, written under a false impression from which I can relieve you I am in no perplexity or anxiety at present. I fear I must say that for four years and a half I have had a conviction, weaker or stronger, but on the whole constantly growing, and at present very strong, that we are not part of the Catholic Church. I am too much accustomed to this idea to feel pain at it. I could only feel pain, if I found it led me to action. At present I do not feel any such call. Such feelings are not hastily to be called convictions, though this seems to me such. Did I ever arrive at a full persuasion that it was such, then I should be very anxious and much perplexed. My case is described in the note of p. 414 of my new volume of sermons.

Alas! I fear I have removed pain from your mind in one way, only to give a greater pain in another. And yet is it possible you can be quite unprepared for this avowal? It was the Monophysite and Donatist controversies which in 1839 led me to this clear and distinct judgement.

May all good attend you and all comfort, my dear Pusey, is the prayer of yours affectionately,

                           J. H. NEWMAN.

Pusey' s imperturbably sanguine disposition rallied again, even after this letter.


Christ Church, Vigil of St. Matthias, 1844.


Thank you much for all your tenderness to me. I did know what you wrote, for I was one of the two persons to whom Manning showed the letters which you gave him leave to show. They were to me what you would suppose: I wonder that I can ever laugh again; it seems unhealthy and wrong: however, as I said to Manning, I have such conviction that you are under God' s guidance, that I look on cheerfully still, that all will be right,--I mean, for our poor Church and you. I did not, however, mean to allude to this, but, if such as I may say it, there has seemed to me such a sensitiveness to ills around us, as distressed me very much. I hardly knew what to say when with you, for fear of awakening some painful train of thought. I know that if we are humble we may feel anything safely, and that I am not fit myself to be keenly alive to ill in others, that all about me is blunted: still one cannot help being anxious, when one sees what seems so sharp an edge, lest it pierce its sheath.

I feared lest you desponded of our ever being better than we are, and so that we might lose the benefit of fervent prayers, which might be heard from us. I felt that you had a right to judge and feel, where I had not; still, the more I love you and the more I feel that you have a right to do what I have not, the more I shrunk from what I acknowledged you might have a right to say. It was, as I said, like seeing a friend with a sharp instrument, which one could not trust one' s-self with.

This does not look for any answer. Indeed, of late, I have wished to know nothing, lest my very knowing it should be hurtful. I have the same confidence in you as ever. If such as I may say so, God be with you, as He is.            

                                       Ever your very affectionate friend,

                                                                                        E. B. P.

Newman naturally thought that Pusey was mistaken in tracing to  'sensitiveness'  on his part a view of things which he believed to be justified by facts independent of both of them.

MY DEAR P.,                                                      Littlemore, Vigil of St. Matt[hias], 1844.

Thanks for your note, which I know it gave you pain to write. I do not doubt that there must be some fault in me which has led you to such impressions; but think you mistake in attributing my manner, &c. to sensitiveness, or sharp feeling. Suppose it has been in part a latent wish to convey to you in detail my view of things which I dared not say bluntly, and a sort of fidget that you did not know? And I think you do not put yourself enough into my position, and consider how a person would view things, and at the end of near five years. I suppose it is possible for a Church to have some profound wound, which, till healed, infallibly impeded the exercise of its powers and made attempts to act futile. How should we feel, e.g., if we saw a man with a broken leg attempting to walk? But if such a state be possible, what would a person' s feelings be who saw it but those which we entertain towards such a disabled man? Would he be wrong in having them? However, I repeat, I have no doubt there is fault in me, which has made you so write.

                                  Ever yours affectionately,


No anxiety--and there were many--which weighed on Pusey at this time equalled that which he felt on the score of Newman. With reference to this, Keble had written to him

 'Jan. 23, 1844.

 'I think night and day of your anxieties: would that I could really help you. I myself for some time have hardly dared to expect any other [event] than you now fear: but I am fearfully cold, I fear, about it. Yet when one does a little realize it, it seems a depth of disappointment beyond imagination. But surely there are those to whom there will be light in the darkness.'

A few weeks after this correspondence with Newman, Pusey was called away from Oxford to what proved to be the deathbed of his eldest daughter, Lucy.

Since Mrs. Pusey' s death, Pusey' s three children had lived little with their father in Oxford. Philip had been at school in Brighton: Lucy and Mary under the care of Miss Rogers at Clifton. Pusey always saw them in the holidays, and in the Long Vacations took them with him to the seaside. Mary' s health was good; but in different ways Philip and Lucy were constant sources of anxiety. At the end of 1843, Philip was so ill that Mrs. Bartlett, at whose school he was, wrote to request Dr. Pusey to remove him;  'as the presence of one so sickly prevented parents from placing their children with her.'  Lucy had, all through these years, alternated between convalescence and the return of illness; and at last, in the early spring of 1844, her chronic ill-health was aggravated by an attack of whooping-cough which ended in disease of the lungs.

At this time his daughter Lucy was more to Pusey than his other children, more, perhaps, than any other person in the world. As his eldest child she naturally and largely took a high place in his domestic affections; but she was also from her tenderest years in intimate sympathy with his religious hopes and efforts, so far as this was possible for one so young. Very early in life she listened to and read Newman' s sermons with spiritual enjoyment; and it had been a special feature of Mrs. Pusey' s training that she should make the most of Newman' s teaching. At Pusey' s request Bishop Bagot had confirmed her when twelve years old; and this was followed on the next day, Trinity Sunday, 1841, by her first communion,--an occasion of the greatest joy to her father.

 'Every wish of my heart,'  wrote Pusey to the Rev. B. Harrison, on June 8, 1841,  'was fulfilled in dear Lucy' s deep silent devotion, and awe and thankfulness on Saturday and especially on Sunday. Every                anxiety was removed, and her dear mother' s unwearied pains richly blest.'

It was shortly after this that she formed a purpose o devoting herself in a single life to the care of the sick and poor for Christ' s sake. For several years Pusey himself had earnestly prayed for the restoration of the religious life, and especially of sisterhoods, to the English Church It was therefore natural that Pusey' s interests should be especially concentrated in a child who represented to him her mother, and the fruit of Newman' s teaching, and one of his own most earnest hopes of religious restoration for the English Church.

 'She was the one being,'  he wrote to Newman on April 22, 1844,  'around whom my thoughts of the future here had wound.'

 'I cannot tell you,'  he wrote to his son, April 23,  'how her simplicity and devotion and love wound round my heart, and how I loved her, or how I longed that she should be, and join with others in being, what she longed to be.'

Pusey does not appear to have anticipated the blow which was soon to fall on him.

 'Dear Lucy,'  he wrote to Newman on April 2,  'is still suffering from the whooping-cough, though her chest, which was tried the other day, is still sound. Still, the very trying it implies apprehension whether there was mischief.'

But on April 3rd he went to Clifton, and found at once that humanly speaking her recovery was hopeless.

Sorrow was to bring him and Newman very closely together again; how intimately and spiritually the sub-joined letters will show.



MY DEAREST FRIEND,                                       Clifton, Easter Tuesday [April 9], 1844.

All is peace here, with the certain prospect how it will end, though not how soon. It was hurrying on with a terrific rapidity when I wrote, though I knew it not; on Easter Eve came a solemn pause; and in this I suppose we are still. She said to me last night,  'Now I am so near death, it seems that my love of God is not what it should be' ; so we are now praying for it, and this pause seems to be given us, to obtain some deeper measure of it before she parts. She is a child of your writings: in looking over her books, I find the date of a volume of your sermons, on her birthday, nearly eight years ago, and I asked you for them, as her dear mother had been some time forming her mind in them. The term is quite uncertain; there is prospect of her remaining more than a month, perhaps, with me: but it might at any time be cut short to two days, so we are even evidently wholly in His Hands. I wished to tell you how we are and what we long for. I suppose St. François de Sales is the best book; Dalgairns will like to know that the translation which he has corrected so nicely is of great use and comfort.

I should stay on here, unless there were appearances that she would be continued here through the term, and then I thought of coming up to give my four lectures on two following days, spending the rest of the week here.

You will be kindly glad to hear that as yet she does not suffer, and her beautifully calm face is something joyous to look on.

I asked her whether she had any message for you. She said,  'Give him my respectful love, and thank him for all his kindness to me.'

God reward you, my dear friend; this is now the second of mine, at whose parting I have felt what a blessing your sermons and your love have been to them.

                                                         Ever your very affectionate friend,

                                                                                                      E. B. PUSEY.


MY DEAR PUSEY,                                                                     Littlemore, April 10, 1844.

You may fancy what an heartache your note of to-day has given me. Yet all is well, as you know better than I can say. What would you more than is granted you as regards dear Lucy? She was given you to be made an heir of heaven. Have you not been allowed to perform that part towards her? You have done your work--what remains but to present it finished to Him Who put it upon you? You are presenting it to Him, you are allowed to do so, in the way most acceptable to Him, as a holy blameless sacrifice, not a sacrifice which the world has sullied, but as if a baptismal offering, perfected by long though kind and gentle sufferings. How fitly do her so touching words which you repeat to me accord with such thoughts as these!  'Love'  which she asks for, is of course the grace which will complete the whole. Do you not bear in mind the opinion of theologians that it is the grace which supplies all things, supersedes all things, and is all in all? I believe they hold, though a dying person were in a desert, without any one at hand, love would be to him everything. He has in it forgiveness of sins, Communion of Saints, and the presence of Christ. Dear Lucy has been made His in Baptism, she has been made His in suffering: and now she asks to be made His by love.

Well may you find her sweet countenance pleasant to look upon when here at a distance I have such pleasure in thinking of her. May we have that great blessedness, when our end comes (may I especially, who need so to pray more than others), which is hers, that gift of love which casts out all imperfection, all doubt, all sorrow.

Should you have a fit time for doing so, pray tell her that she is constantly in my thoughts, and will not (so be it) cease to be ; --as she, who has gone first, is in my mind day by day, morning and evening, continually.

All blessing on you both, and on your other dear charge at Clifton, is the prayer of yours, my dear Pusey,

                                               Most affectionately but most unworthily,

                                                                                           JOHN H. NEWMAN.

Early in the morning of April 22nd she passed away.


Clifton, Fer. ii. inf. Hebd. ii. post Pasch,

MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,                                                                                  [April 22], 1844.

  'Blessed be the Name of the Lord.'  Your prayers and those of my other friends have been heard; the child, educated in, and (in a manner) of your sermons, has been accepted, and is in Paradise. The struggle was so long and so severe that I could not but think it a realizing, in a degree, of a wish she had named to me (about two years ago, I think) that she might die a martyr.... I longed that it should be over, and sighed at each return of life, or each sign of remaining strength, though I was withheld from praying that it should be except as He willed. I left it wholly to His wisdom and mercy....

I ventured to give her in charge to pray for us all in the presence of her Redeemer, and, if it might be, for those institutions to which she had herself hoped to belong. I especially recalled to her how much she owed to you.... The crowning blessing was at the end. She had seemed again and again all but gone, and when I expected the last sigh, the cough returned and seemed to recall her to life, and the suffering was to begin again.... All at once her eyes opened wide, and I never saw such a gaze as at what was invisible to us, which continued for some time; and after this had continued for some little while, she looked at me full in the face, and there came such an unearthly smile, so full of love also; all expression of pain disappeared and was swallowed up in joy: I never saw anything like that smile: there was no sound, else it seemed almost a laugh for joy, and I could hardly help laughing for joy An answer. I cannot describe it: it was utterly unlike anything I ever saw: it seemed as if she would say,  'All you have longed for for me is fulfilled,'  and when her blessed spirit was gone, her eyes, which were looking gently heavenwards, retained such a lustre (such as they never had before) that they seemed more than living.

It turned at once all sorrow into joy: it seemed like one already in Paradise inviting me thither.... A few days ago this seemed to me the heaviest blow that could fall upon me: she was the one being around whom my thoughts of the future here had wound; and now I would  not exchange that smile for worlds.  'Heaviness has endured for the night, but joy has come in the morning.'  I cannot sorrow for one whom I have seen with the light as of Heaven....

Pusey interpreted the smile which is here described more distinctly and confidently in another passage.

 'I feel certain that it was our Blessed Lord Whom she saw: I had often in the night used part of the prayer,  " Soul of Christ," &c., more than once as a whole, and especially that part,  " O good Jesus, hear me, and suffer me not to be separated from Thee." . . . I repeated to her the Blessing,  " May the Face of the Lord Jesus Christ appear to thee mild and joyous." ... The lustre of her eyes and the heavenly love of the smile, seemed a reflection of His Countenance. If so while in the body, what must it be now! God be thanked for His unspeakable mercy to me a sinner.'

Pusey asked Newman to make arrangements about the funeral. She was to be buried in the Cathedral at Christ Church.

 'Do you think' --wrote Pusey to Newman on April 22 -- 'there would be any harm in putting on the stone  " puella jam in votis Christo desponsata," since this had been a deep and abiding feeling with her since I first named it almost four years ago. I mean the Latin to express that it was only in votis, not actually so.'

The coffin was to be  'as simple as herself,'  with the  'cross upon it which she so loved.'  The cross could not be added in Clifton.  'My friends here,'  wrote Pusey,  'are already too deeply committed by their connexion with myself.'  Dr. Bloxam was asked to give directions to some one about making a cross, which could be put on at Oxford. In transmitting this commission to Bloxam, Newman added,  'In reward you shall see Pusey' s letter to me about her; she was a saint.'

Newman' s acknowledgment of Pusey' s account of his daughter' s death followed at once.

MY DEAREST PUSEY,                                                                 Littlemore, April 24, 1844.

How can I thank you enough for your letter and its sacred contents? rather how can we all duly thank Him Whose mercies have enabled you to write it? You do not want comfort--so on all accounts but few words are becoming from such as me. I now but fear that you will find yourself overcome in body and mind afterwards, when the present exertion is over.

I have ordered a plated cross eighteen inches long, and foliated (I think they call it), by Bloxam.

There seems to me nothing against the words--in votis. I suppose it is good Latin. The question is whether it will not be commonly mistaken by voto devincta. I like it very much.

The twenty-second of April is memorable to me already on many accounts--two are these. It is the anniversary of Wood' s departure last year, and of our commencing here the year before.

                                                             Ever yours most affectionately,


P.S. On second thoughts, since you expressly say  'the simple cross,'  I shall order a plain one not foliated.

Pusey begged Newman to be at the funeral, which took place on Saturday, April 27. Lucy Pusey was laid at the side of her mother and sister in the nave (as it then was) of Christ Church Cathedral.

Pusey sought refuge from his anxieties and sorrows in an increase of his habits of personal devotion, and in efforts to lead others to deeper and more spiritual communion with God. He now engaged in editing a translation of the first of a series of devotional works, adapted from foreign writers to the use of the English Church. In this he was only following high precedent. Bishop Andrewes had con–structed his  'Devotions'  out of ancient liturgies. Sherlock had taught the  'Practical Christian'  that the Breviary and the Missal contained prayers of exquisite beauty. The  'Spiritual Combat'  had been edited for the use of the English church by a London clergyman in the seventeenth century, and recommended in the eighteenth by Bishop Wilson.  'The Introduction to a Devout Life,'  by St. Francis de Sales, had been brought to the notice of English Church–men under the auspices of Laud; and Laud had sanctioned by licence the  'Epistle of Christ to a Devout Soul,'  by Lanspergius. Of Luis of Granada, the  'Spiritual Exer–cises'  had been translated in one century, the  'Paradise of Prayers'  in another. Jeremy Taylor had embodied Nierem–berg in his  'Contemplations of the State of Man' ; Hickes had translated Fénelon; Robert Boyle, Nicole; Ball, of St. Bartholomew' s the Less, Bellarmine' s  'Art of Dying' ; while Wesley had published, in his  'Christian Library,'  works of Juan d' Avila, Molinos, Francis Losa, Fénelon, and the  'Letters'  of Brother Lawrence. Thomas ˆ Kempis had been at home in the English Church since the days of Queen Elizabeth' . The original works of Massillon and Fénelon had long been welcome to English Church-people. Pusey only proposed to extend the use of foreign writers; but to extend it under safeguards and upon a principle. Believing as he did that the whole spiritual life of the Church was the work of God the Holy Ghost, even when mingled here and there with human exaggerations or misconceptions, he held that the devotional literature, in which this life found expression and guidance, was God' s gift to all branches and members of the Church, and not only to that portion of her which immediately produced it. And there were special reasons just now for drawing on some of these sources of spiritual strength.

 'In the present time there is a craving after a higher life; stricter and more abiding penitence; deeper and fuller devotion; mental prayer; meditation upon God and His holy mysteries; more inward love to Him; oneness of will with Him in all things; more habitual recollection in Him amid the duties of daily life; entire consecration to God; deadness to self and to the world; growth in the several Christian graces in detail; self-knowledge, in order to victory over self; daily strife; stricter conformity with our Lord' s blessed com–mandments and all-holy life, sympathy with His passion,  'the fellowship of His sufferings' ; oneness with Him. Yet in all, people feel that they lack instruction; they see dimly what God would have of them,--they see not how to set about it.'

Pusey began with Avrillon' s  'Guide for passing Lent Holily,'  one of the most useful of the series. He prefixed to it some remarks vindicating the principle and pointing out the limits of his adaptations. He proposed at first to prefix a dedication to the Church of England, and consulted Newman about it as well as about the translation of the Breviary. Newman replied:--


MY DEAR P.                                                                         Oriel, Saturday, Dec. 2, 1843.

Your proposed Dedication has put it into my head to say to you what it did not strike me before to do--though I certainly think I ought.

It is this. I am quite of opinion that any Breviary, however corrected, &c., will tend to prepare minds for the Church of Rome. I fully think that you will be doing so by your publication....

I do not think our system will bear it. It is like sewing a new piece of cloth on an old garment.

Did I wish to promote the cause of the Church of Rome, I should say, Do what you propose to do.

I have before now been of another opinion. If it seems wonderful to you that I should change right round without showing distress at the intentions expressed from time to time of editing Breviaries, I fear I must account for it in a way which will pain you--that my dislike of approximating Rome has diminished with my hope of avoiding her. Now, as before, I am not unwilling that Breviaries should be published--though for different reasons. But, as I have tried, while I had a charge in our Church, to do nothing against her, so now you should have my opinion on the subject.

                                                                     Ever yours affectionately,


Of course, Newman' s letter did not convince Pusey. Newman meant that Rome was alone the true home of all that Pusey wished to secure for the English Church by his adapted books. Pusey, believing that the English Church was Catholic, believed that she had a right to and could assimilate all that was really Catholic in the devotional literature of the Church of Rome. It would raise the tone of the whole English Church; it would not make indi–viduals disloyal to her. It would influence the devotional life of the English Church, as the publication of the  'Library of the Fathers'  was influencing her theology. Newman, of course, could not agree.


MY DEAR PUSEY,                                                                         Littlemore, Dec. 18, 1843.

I have been intending to answer your most kind and affectionate note ever since it came, and now I am driven up into a corner for time.

I must seem very cold and reserved to you--the truth is I have not had courage to tell you all I think. This has lasted a very long time--for years. Indeed, one has no right to scatter about one' s own notions, when they are recent, lest they should be but accidental and random. But some time or other I must tell you. And perhaps I must choose some serious season, as I do for telling you as much as this.

Whether the publication of a Breviary is to lead our Church towards Rome or individuals in it (which is your question) can only be decided by experiment. It is like attempting to bend a stick: if it does not bend, it will break. If you do not move the whole Church, to a certainty you are moving individuals; there is no medium. Now in calculating the prospective resistance, the fact that the Bishops are averse to the Breviary, and that some have pledged themselves against it, is a very anxious fact. Again, you must take into account generally, the opposition of the nation to Rome. I do not think it enough, according to my feeling of the matter, to say,  'I leave it to a higher power whether or not He leads our Church to Rome, in consequence of my act' ; I think you must contemplate another alternative and say,  'I think it right, and therefore leave it to Him altogether and absolutely what becomes of my act, whether He overrule it to the movement of the whole Church or of individuals in it, more or fewer.'  I am only stating my feeling.

Things have so silently changed (e.g. the fact of the Bishops'  Charges, the secret growth of Roman tendencies in various minds, &c.) that I had not very fully mastered my own thoughts about the publication of a Breviary now, till your proposed Dedication made me realize them.

As to Isaac W[illiams] you must not take him as a judge of consequences--he advocates causes as strongly as possible till they touch on their effects, and then is perfectly shocked and amazed to find that fire burns.

As to the Fathers, to return to your remark, I do now think, far more than I did, that their study leads to Rome. It has thus wrought in me. But of course I ever have thought it required a safeguard to keep it from Rome, because in the history of the Church their theology has led to Rome on a very large scale; vide the advertisement to my third volume of Sermons.

You are not paining me by writing to me, and I grieve not to answer you, but I am sorely perplexed whether I have any right to distress you, and that is the beginning and the end of it.

And now, my dearest Pusey, do not think that I doubt for a moment that, whatever you do, done as you will do it, will turn to good: only you seemed to pledge yourself to be choosing the good, and to involve yourself in consequences--and that frightened me.

                         Ever yours most affectionately, compared with whom

                                                                                                      I am nothing,


Keble, unlike Newman, approved of this renewed pro–posal to translate the Breviary, and of Pusey' s Preface to the adapted works. He wrote a long letter, pointing out omissions which would be necessary to make the Breviary conformable to English Church doctrine, while insisting on the principle that nothing that was retained should be altered. In a second letter he added:--

 'Have you ever thought of what the Bishops, some of them, I think the Bishop of Oxford, said against editing R.C. books of devotion, as an objection to this undertaking? Might it be removed by communication with him or in any other way? Will not some bookseller share the expense, if he may be allowed to share the profit? If this is thought undesirable, I hope you will put me down for at least £100 towards it. I hope N. and you sometimes confer about it: how is he?'

Newman' s letters had however raised serious scruples in Pusey' s mind as to the consistency of his project with loyalty to the English Church: and as Keble had not met these scruples, Pusey wrote to him again on the subject. Keble, who seems to have thought that there was more reserve and distance between Newman and Pusey at this time than was really the case, begged him to consult Newman. He added:--


Hursley, Jan. 9, 1844.

With regard to the risk of publishing an English Breviary at all, even in the most expurgated shape, I own I cannot well com–prehend it: that is, I cannot comprehend how it should have a Romeward tendency with good sort of persons: but to say that our Church cannot bear such a book, and that it is inconsistent with loyalty to her, this, it seems to me, would be a very scandalizing sort of thing. As to the Services of St. Mary in particular, I can better comprehend your difficulty: even as an  'oikonomia'  to reconcile people to the Breviary generally, it seems that it might be desirable to omit them; but why should this extend to all the black-letter-days? unless it be that you would not like to exclude (so far) the greatest Saint whilst you are honouring the rest? and I do not know that I could answer this very well. Yet it does seem to me that leaving out such a body of holy commemorations will enormously diminish the beauty and utility of the book. But still I would have it go on, and as you say, if the plan be a truly good one, more Saints'  days may perhaps be added hereafter. Any hymns or other passages which you wish, I will of course try to translate; but they must be sent to me in good time, as I am very slow in such works, and getting more and more so.

Avrillon appeared just before Lent. The effect of Pusey' s correspondence with Newman appears in the         following Dedication. It had been slightly altered since Newman saw it. It is hardly possible to avoid contrasting the tone of this Dedication with that of the passage already quoted from Newman' s last sermon, especially as regards the relation of the writers to their Mother, the Church of England. 


Our Mother

In whom we were new born to God,

In whom we have been fed

All our life long until this day,

In whose Bosom we hope to die,

The Church of England,

Beloved and afflicted,

And by affliction purified,

Once the Parent of Saints,

Now through our sins fallen, yet arising,


Reverent and grateful affection,


Her humblest and most unworthy Son,

With the earnest prayer

That his infirmities and shortsightedness

Mar not any way God' s gracious work towards her,

Nor what is purposed
     For the holiness of her children

Bring aught of evil to her.'

The publication of Avrillon provoked misgivings and eyen remonstrances from some of Pusey' s friends.


MY DEAR FRIEND,                                                                                             Oct. 4, 1844.

With regard to my own R.C. books, I am editing them because I do not know of others of equal value or of the same kind. How should it not be that in so numerous Churches as those in communion with Rome, with such very devoted and self-denying and contemplative lives as so many have led, they should not have much by which we can profit?

Of course I cannot expect to approve my own judgement to others in all things, but on the subject of the system as to the Blessed Virgin, you have no reason to fear from me, for I cannot see my way one step into the practical system of devotion to her. But surely we must, in these difficult times, make all allowance for all people, even as we wish to be well-constructed ourselves.

It has only lately occurred to me, that I shall probably be suspended again next year, if I live so long, i.e. upon my first sermon.

Do not be impatient, my dear friend, but pray for us.

                                                         Yours very affectionately,

                                                                                      E. B. PUSEY.

The Rev. W. K. Hamilton (afterwards Bishop of Salis–bury) feared that such books might make English Church-people dissatisfied with their own position.


MY DEAR HAMILTON,                                                                                   St. Thomas'  Day, 1844.

I am grieved that you think my editions of foreign works (for Roman Catholic they are not, as I edit them) tend to foster an unfilial spirit. My own object was two-sided: (1) to obtain what was very valuable; (2) to present it in such form as should not lead to devotions, &c., uncongenial to our Church. People were using Roman Catholic books extensively already, and this was unangli–canizing them. There was not the choice, if one would, whether they should use them or no. The only question was, how? Again, people were restless, because they had not guidance; they had cravings unsupplied (as I said in my first Preface). These books do set them at rest. I receive most grateful thanks for the provision made within our Church, for knowing what they may use, instead of being tempted to use Roman Catholic books, as stolen goods, of which they knew not whether they were theirs or no. Simple, truly Anglican minds have thanked me exceedingly. Then, why should it unsettle people? Why should we suppose that we have all good in ourselves? Why should not such  'flourishing Churches as Spain and France have been, with men so wholly abstracted from this life and living to God, lives so devoted as we have scarcely any notion of, with burning zeal for the conversion of sinners, all on fire with the love of God, produce works which might be of use  'to us?... Yet we have been contented to borrow from Calvinists, Lutherans, our own Dissenters.

The task which, from the feeling of its necessity, I have taken upon myself, I feel to be a difficult and an anxious one. But I know that it has brought both to translators and readers deeper thoughts of devotion, and so I hope God' s blessing will rest upon it. I felt when I began it that I was throwing away what little reputation I had left: but I felt it to be worth the cost. You would be shocked to have all this explanation. But what you feel, that, of course, others do also, and your Bishop probably, and I should be glad to mitigate, at least, his apprehensions.... God be with you ever.

                 Yours affectionately,

                                              E. B. P.

Copeland' s difficulty had been of a distinct character. If it was desirable to have recourse to the Roman Church for books of devotion, did not this imply a greater wealth of spiritual life in that Church, and was not such a fact, if a fact it was, suggestive of other conclusions beyond?


Sept. 24, 1844.

You must not indeed let my doing R.C. books raise painful doubts or comparisons in your mind. So large a Communion must have produced more than ours. Then so much of theirs is the fruit of Monastic Orders (all their best books I think) that it is wonderful that God should have given us what He has without them. Then on the very subject we were speaking of, how much is there not in Bishop Wilson' s S. P. for meditation at least! I do not know yet, but I doubt very much whether the German Catholic Church has produced as much as God has bestowed on us. Spain again has one very bright galaxy about the time of St. Theresa, but all which she has seems to centre about that time. We are wishing to make our own the best (if we have wisdom to find it) which God has given elsewhere anywhere in the Church: how should it not be more than we have? And yet if God gives us grace to use it, it becomes our own, and so far sets us in communion with the Church everywhere.

I write this, on account of an expression of pain which escaped you on Sunday.

The projected translation of the Breviary had not origin–ated with Pusey. Several hands had been engaged upon it, ever since the appearance of Newman' s tract (No. 75)  'On the Roman Breviary as embodying the substance of the devotional services of the Church Catholic.'  Prominent among these translators was Mr. Samuel Wood of Oriel College--a layman of saintly life, whose early death was deeply mourned, by Pusey and Newman. His manuscripts passed by his will into the hands of Mr. Robert Williams; and Mr. F. Oakeley was also actively interested in the work. Pusey was asked for advice and assistance when Newman, through misgivings as to the English Church, was no longer willing to give them. He endeavoured to employ the partial control thus placed in his hands by discouraging whatever appeared to be inconsistent with the teaching of the English Church; and, feeling that he could thus hope to give the enterprise a healthy turn and to satisfy a widely-felt spiritual craving without encouraging disaffection to the English Church, he did what he could to urge his friends to complete it.


Ilfracombe, July 5, 1844.

You will be glad to hear that R. W. will make any use of our friend Wood' s MSS. of the Breviary we wish, trusting to us that we must know what is wanted for our church more than he. So then, as soon as the Hymns on the Passion are done, I hope you will set to work about this, and first of all see if you think there is anything, here and there, in N.' s hymns which he would like to retract, and then we could begin printing at once. I am anxious not to lose time. .

                                                Yours very affectionately,

                                                                                    E. B. P.

But the troubles of the next two years were fatal to this as to other pieces of work which Pusey had at heart. Fragments of the translation of the Breviary, in brown-paper wrappers, appeared in the Oxford shops, and were used in the private chapel of Newman' s monastery at Littlemore.  'But the work was never completed: although the idea has shown a persistent vitality and has been partly realized in the  'Day Hours of the Church,'  based on the ancient English use of Sarum, and other less important or popular compilations which have in later years shaped the devotional life of a not inconsiderable number of English Churchmen.


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