For example:

With much that was high and holy, there was a fierceness, an opinionated temper, an almost unconscious attitude of irritable defence-in the theological language, a dislike of Rome, which is quite fatal to the formation of a catholic temper either in a community or in an individual.— St. Wilfred, p. 22.

No one can mistake the meaning of this language: no more than one can misunderstand what he says elsewhere:

England in the seventh century had not come to the wicked boldness of setting Rome at nought.—p. 121.

But-be this true or not-so much could not be said for Ireland; and therefore he tells us, of Alfrid, king of Northumberland, that,

in the famous schools of Ireland, the head quarters of Celtic literature, he had lost some of his former reverence for Rome; and that is always a moral loss, as well as an error in opinion.-p. 149.

These extracts are quite sufficient to prove what has been said regarding the Romanizing tendency of the movement. But this life of St. Wilfrid seems evidently to have been put out just now, as an indication of what Mr. Newman and his friends consider to be their present duty. It is, in truth, a sort of Catholicopædia, or, An Anglo-Catholic's Guide to the art of Romanizing the Church. In that view, it is really a very curious and instructive volume. Perhaps, on this account, it may not be undesirable to follow the course of the narrative a little more regularly.

CHAPTER IX.

ST. WILFRID'S PILGRIMAGE TO ROME.

66

WILFRID who, it seems, youth"-had somehow or other,

was a clear-sighted

made a discovery, and that discovery gave the colour to his whole life. Whether he had fallen upon some old books, or from whatever cause, he began to suspect that there was a more perfect way of serving God; that there were ancient traditions of Catholic customs which it was most dangerous to slight, and yet which were utterly neglected. When once he had got this into his mind, he seized upon it and followed it out in that prescient way in which men who have a work to do are gifted to detect and pursue their master idea, without wasting themselves on collateral objects. Wilfrid pondered and pondered this discovery in his solitude, and he saw that the one thing to do was to go to Rome, and learn under the shadow of St. Peter's chair the more perfect way.—p. 4.

How he came so readily to see that going to Rome was "the one thing to do" would not have been so easy to discover, if the author had not immediately proceeded to inform us, in the words already quoted

TO LOOK ROMEWARD IS A CATHOLIC INSTINCT, seemingly implanted in us for the safety of the faith.-Ibid.

In his Romeward journey, Wilfrid took Kent by the way. As St. Honorius was at the time archbishop, and, as our author says,-" peculiarly well skilled in ecclesiastical matters," one might have imagined, "the keen-eyed Wilfrid" could have

learned at Canterbury all he desired to know, without indulging his catholic instincts with so long a journey.

But it was short of Rome. THE PROCESS MAY BE LONGER OR SHORTER, BUT CATHOLICS GET TO ROME AT LAST, IN SPITE of wind and tIDE.—pp. 4, 5.

To Rome, then, he determined to go;-not a very common journey at that time," a road untrodden by the English youth,"-catholic though the instinct be to look Romeward." Just then, it is to be supposed, catholicity began to develop itself in pilgrimages and Romeward aspirations.

...

Wilfrid was singular in looking on such a pilgrimage as meritorious, and hoping to win pardon for the sins and ignorances of his youth in such a holy vicinity as the threshold of the Apostles. Indeed, Wilfrid must have had a versatile mind, and certainly hesitated at nothing which enabled him to realize to himself communion with Rome. This strong feeling seems to be the key to almost everything he did.-Ibid.

99.66

Very possible. That is to say, if the story be true. But,—what is much more interesting to English churchmen in the nineteenth century,— "this strong feeling," that has "hesitated at nothing which enables him to realise to himself communion with Rome,' seems to be the key to almost everything" which our own "keen-eyed Wilfrid" is doing, and has been doing for a considerable time. However, to proceed: Wilfrid having found out, at Canterbury, that Jerome's version of the Psalter was not in fashion at Rome;

this was enough for Wilfrid. He made all the haste he could to forget St. Jerome's version, and learn the old one. What a task it must have been! . . . But it was a labour of love it brought Wilfrid more into contact with Roman things. This was the Roman feeling in a little matter; but it was the same feeling and no other, which was the life of his actions afterwards. pp. 5, 6.

There has of late been in many quarters a strong feeling, that the laity would be materially benefited by a more close attention on the part of the clergy to the rules set by the Book of Common Prayer for the performance of divine service. And a very short time ago, there were few who would not have respected a clergyman for his conscientiousness and zeal, should he have set about a more exact and careful observance of these wise and well-considered regulations. Not that serious and sensible people were likely at any time to regard with indifference any symptoms in their minister of a love of needless alteration; but, provided he could have justified the change by an appeal to the rubric, few,-even of the small number who might have felt disposed to call him to account,-would have been dissatisfied. But this state of things no longer exists. And in a church, where one may still see an inscription to commemorate the piety and munificence of a former rector, who had presented the parish with a pair of splendid candlesticks for the communion-table, no one now could dare to make the very slightest deviation from existing and established laxity. The

laity would instantly become alarmed; and if their fears were not as quickly deferred to, it is not impossible that the church would be deserted, and their displeasure manifested by such proceedings as devout men mourn over now, and earnest men will recollect by-and-by with anything but complacency. At present, any change, however unimportant, is dreaded as "the Roman feeling," though "in a little matter."

Now, no person can feel less disposed than I do to blame the laity for their present sensitiveness: no one less disposed to treat their fears with inconsideration. But how came this change in the temper of the laity? Whence originated the alarm? The blame may not rest wholly, perhaps, on Mr. Newman's party. Those who dislike the rules and ritual of the church have in several instances taken advantage of the public fears, and, in some cases, it may be feared, have even endeavoured to excite them, in order to justify their own nonconformity. But this is far from being a sufficient explanation of the facts of the case; since beyond all question, many wise and calm-judging people have of late been found to resist changes, which a little while ago such men would have silently acquiesced in, or even admired. Nor can there be any doubt, either that this resistance is mainly to be attributed to the fears excited by the proceedings of Mr. Newman and his party, or that the Romanizing tendency and