features, lost or unvalued by England.  Still, Rome was not the same thing as the Early Church; and Mr. Newman ultimately sought a way out of his difficulty—­and indeed there was no other—­in the famous doctrine of Development.  But when the difficulty about Apostolicity was thus provided for, then the force of the great vision of the Catholic Church came upon him, unchecked and irresistible.  That was a thing present, visible, undeniable as a fact of nature; that was a thing at once old and new; it belonged as truly, as manifestly, to the recent and modern world of democracy and science, as it did to the Middle Ages and the Fathers, to the world of Gregory and Innocent, to the world of Athanasius and Augustine.  The majesty, the vastness of an imperial polity, outlasting all states and kingdoms, all social changes and political revolutions, answered at once to the promises of the prophecies, and to the antecedent idea of the universal kingdom of God.  Before this great idea, embodied in concrete form, and not a paper doctrine, partial scandals and abuses seemed to sink into insignificance.  Objections seemed petty and ignoble; the pretence of rival systems impertinent and absurd.  He resented almost with impatience anything in the way of theory or explanation which seemed to him narrow, technical, dialectical.  He would look at nothing but what had on it the mark of greatness and largeness which befitted the awful subject, and was worthy of arresting the eye and attention of an ecclesiastical statesman, alive to mighty interests, compared to which even the most serious human affairs were dwarfed and obscured.  But all this was gradual in coming.  His recognition of the claims of the English Church, faulty and imperfect as he thought it, did not give way suddenly and at once.  It survived the rude shock of 1839, From first to almost the last she was owned as his “mother”—­owned in passionate accents of disappointment and despair as a Church which knew not how to use its gifts; yet still, even though life seemed failing her, and her power of teaching and ruling seemed paralysed, his mother; and as long as there seemed to him a prospect of restoration to health, it was his duty to stay by her.[73] This was his first attitude for three or four years after 1839.  He could not speak of her with the enthusiasm and triumph of the first years of the movement.  When he fought her battles, it was with the sense that her imperfections made his task the harder.  Still he clung to the belief that she held a higher standard than she had yet acted up to, and discouraged and perplexed he yet maintained her cause.  But now two things happened.  The Roman claims, as was natural when always before him, seemed to him more and more indisputable.  And in England his interpretation of Anglican theology seemed to be more and more contradicted, disavowed, condemned, by all that spoke with any authority in the Church.  The University was not an ecclesiastical body, yet it had practically much weight in matters