Lastly, the subjectivism of Newman and the Modernists is fatal to that exclusiveness which is the corner-stone of Catholic policy.  The analogy between the individual and the Church suggests that God may ’fulfil Himself in many ways, lest one good custom should corrupt the world.’  As there are many individuals, each of whom is being guided separately by the ‘kindly light,’ so there may be many churches.  The pragmatic proof of the truth of a religion, from the fact of its survival and successful working, does not justify the Roman claim to monopoly.  The Protestant churches also display vitality, and their members seem to exhibit the fruits of the Spirit.  The condemnations of Modernism published by the Vatican show that the Papal court is quite alive to this danger.  To the outsider, indeed, it might seem a happy solution of a long controversy if the Roman Church would be content to claim the gifts of grace which are really hers, without denying the validity of the Orders and Sacraments of other bodies, and the genuineness of the Christian graces which they exhibit.  It would then be admitted on all hands that some temperaments are more suited to Catholicism, others to Protestantism, and that the character of each man develops most satisfactorily under the discipline which suits his nature.  But we must not expect any such concession from Rome; and in truth such an admission would be the beginning of the end for Catholicism in its present form.

Our conclusion then is that although Newman was not a Modernist, but an exceedingly stiff conservative, he did introduce into the Roman Church a very dangerous and essentially alien habit of thought, which has since developed into Modernism.  Perhaps Monsignor Talbot was not far wrong, from his own point of view, when he called him ’the most dangerous man in England.’  One side of his religion was based on principles which, when logically drawn out, must lead away from Catholicism in the direction of an individualistic religion of experience, and a substitution of history for dogma which makes all truth relative and all values fluid.  Newman’s writings have always made genuine Catholics uneasy, though they hardly know why.  It is probable that here is the solution.

The character of Newman—­for with this we must end—­may seem to have been more admirable than lovable.  He was more apt to make disciples than friends.  Yet he was loved and honoured by men whose love is an honour, and he is admired by all who can appreciate a consistently unworldly life.  The Roman Church has been less unpopular in England since Newman received from it the highest honour which it can bestow.  Throughout his career he was a steadfast witness against tepid and insincere professions of religion, and against any compromise with the shifting currents of popular opinion.  All cultivated readers, who have formed their tastes on the masterpieces of good literature, are attracted, sometimes against their will, by the dignity and reserve of his style,