proselytiser, he would have seen that it was his duty to undermine and shatter their old convictions.  But he cared more for the tempers and beliefs in which he was at one with his Anglican friends, than for those in which they could not follow him.  But the struggle came on gradually.  What he feared at first was not the triumph of Rome, but the break-up of the English Church; the apparent probability of a great schism in it.  “I fear I see more clearly that we are working up to a schism in the English Church, that is, a split between Peculiars and Apostolicals ...  I never can be surprised at individuals going off to Rome, but that is not my chief fear, but a schism; that is, those two parties, which have hitherto got on together as they could, from the times of Puritanism downwards, gathering up into clear, tangible, and direct forces, and colliding.  Our Church is not at one with itself, there is no denying it.”  That was at first the disaster before him.  His thought for himself began to turn, not to Rome, but to a new life without office and authority, but still within the English Church.  “You see, if things come to the worst, I should turn brother of charity in London.”  And he began to prepare for a move from Oxford, from St. Mary’s, from his fellowship.  He bought land at Littlemore, and began to plant.  He asks his brother-in-law for plans for building what he calls a [Greek:  monea].  He looks forward to its becoming a sort of Monastic school, but still connected with the University.

In Mr. Newman’s view of the debate between England and Rome, he had all along dwelt on two broad features, Apostolicity and Catholicity, likeness to the Apostolic teaching, and likeness to the uninterrupted unity and extent of the undivided Church; and of those two features he found the first signally wanting in Rome, and the second signally wanting in England.  When he began to distrust his own reasonings, still the disturbing and repelling element in Rome was the alleged defect of Apostolicity, the contrast between primitive and Roman religion; while the attractive one was the apparent widely extended Catholicity in all lands, East and West, continents and isles, of the world-wide spiritual empire of the Pope.  It is these two great points which may be traced in their action on his mind at this crisis.  The contrast between early and Roman doctrine and practice, in a variety of ways, some of them most grave and important, was long a great difficulty in the way of attempting to identify the Roman Church, absolutely and exclusively, with the Primitive Church.  The study of antiquity indisposed him, indeed, more and more to the existing system of the English Church; its claims to model itself on the purity and simplicity of the Early Church seemed to him, in the light of its documents, and still more of the facts of history and life, more and more questionable.  But modern Rome was just as distant from the Early Church though it preserved many ancient