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Oxford Apostles: A Character Study of the Oxford Movement
Oxford Apostles, a character study of the Oxford Movement, is not, in the usual sense of the word, a 'religious' book. It is primarily an attempt to understand and to explain a deeply interesting crisis in the history of ideas, by a study of personalities.
The central figure in this study is Newman, whose central life is traced in detail up to the point of his conversion to Roman Catholicism. Round him are grouped a number of other men, whose careers and characters are presented with equal vividness - Keble, Pusey, Froude, Whatley, Blanco, White, Hampden, and many others of lesser significance. The author combines these various life-stories with no little skill into a single dramatic and moving form; and his expositions of the ecclesiastical and political background of early nineteenth-century Oxford, and of the general characteristics of the movement, make the best kind of reading.
The central figure in this study is Newman, whose central life is traced in detail up to the point of his conversion to Roman Catholicism. Round him are grouped a number of other men, whose careers and characters are presented with equal vividness - Keble, Pusey, Froude, Whatley, Blanco, White, Hampden, and many others of lesser significance. The author combines these various life-stories with no little skill into a single dramatic and moving form; and his expositions of the ecclesiastical and political background of early nineteenth-century Oxford, and of the general characteristics of the movement, make the best kind of reading.
442 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1933
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September 28, 2025
For contemporary anglo-catholics, the Oxford Movement of the 1830s was a resurgence of traditional Christian teaching and values in the Church of England which their party is the current day inheritor of. They also see its principal figures like John Keble, Edward Bouverie Pusey and to a lesser/more complicated extent John Henry Newman as their patron saints.
However, given that today anglo-catholics are mainly known as the “smells and bells” party, that is, a group advocating for ritualistic elements in the liturgy (eg. six candles on the altar instead of four etc), and that the Oxford Movement’s ideas of reform went relatively much deeper in areas other than liturgy, on which it was in practice largely uninterested (Pusey in 1860 wrote that “he never had any sympathy for anything of ritualism, or especially any revival of disused Vestments”, and as late as 1834 Newman was still not celebrating the Lord's Supper weekly in his parish church of St Mary's), this is actually somewhat of a misconception.
As Faber says, “The whole of the Oxford Movement was, in effect, a passionate assertion that the Church must rule or society cease to be Christian.” This strikes us today as an impossibly reactionary and far fetched aim. And indeed even in its own time it was, and was seen to be by the movement’s opponents. It was, however, a proposition that at least made sense in the political context of the time, where politics was still religious and religion still political. As with most political theories, its most coherent and self conscious expression happened in the dying days of the thought world that produced it. Beyond Oxford lay full and irreversible secularisation, for which incense and chasubles were merely a consolation prize.
Another confusion, linked to the first, is regarding the binary high/low Church. These days this is an unnecessary semantic duplication of the anglo-catholic/evangelical divide. However, in the early 19th century and earlier it had primarily a political meaning, distinct from theological and liturgical ones. These terms spring from the constitutional settlement of 1688 which granted much more latitude to dissenters. Those who opposed this were High Church, those who supported this toleration were Low Church. Newman also takes this back in time in his later Roman Catholic writing, classifying as High Church those (the Calvinist Archbishop Whitgift most remarkably) who were Erastians and saw the Church as an essential department of state for the control and influence of the general population, and those who supported greater independence of the church and freedom of consciousness (Presbyterians vs Independents one could say). The Oxford Movement were then, higher than high, they did not see the Church as a department of state, but rather as the divine source of the government’s earthly authority. Therefore any
diminution in the rights, privileges or benefits of the Church of England, was not simply a step down the slippery slope of toleration (which any old Tory could believe), but an affront to the majesty of God. This can be seen simply in the title of John Keble's Sermon “National Apostasy” which began the Tracts for the Times. The circumstance for this “apostasy” was the reduction of the number of bishoprics of the unreal Church of Ireland. Considering this was a church funded by tithes from Irish Roman Catholics who did not attend its services, this was the least that any person could have done. And by 1869 Gladstone ultimately disestablished it. But for the Oxford Movement it was a shocking concession by the secular forces that there was space under heaven where the Church (which, given their cultural blinkers, could only mean the Church of England) could not rule. Of course the idea that government should follow the church and not vice versa was actually closer to the Roman Catholic view and it is not surprising, though ironic given the starting point of the Tracts in acting as apologia for the subjugation of Catholics, that Newman ended up crossing the Tiber.
The author states that his aim in this book is to try to understand the period in its own terms, rather than dismissing the whole enterprise as the day-dreaming of mediaevalist fantasists as Lytton Strachey has it in Eminent Victorians. In the case of the political theology of the Oxford Movement this is essential in even a very superficial way (as recollected above) in order to understand why they acted as they did. Another aspect of the book is its psychological examinations of its characters. Newman's, Froudes's and Pusey's diaries and personal letters are poured over for revealing admissions and omissions. This makes for a fascinating and colourful read, if it is somewhat poetical and imaginative at times. A psychological investigation that claimed to be absolutely scientific would be worse than useless, so the tone and purview of the book's investigation in this regard is very welcome. The discussion on virginity and friendship amongst the Tractarians is the most respectful and worthwhile discussion of this oftentimes distracting topic.
In regards to understanding the Oxford Movement on its own terms, the book also considers the intellectual and social situation of the time. One interesting example is Pusey's experience with early 19th century German criticism. Pusey first travelled to Germany in 1825 to learn German and study the Pentateuch under professor Eichhorn. Eichhorn was a thoroughgoing rationalist who did not treat any of the supernatural stories of the old testament as literally true. This shocked Pusey who worried of the effect if this sort of thinking came to Britain. Afterwards Pusey went to Berlin and studied under Schleiermacher whose emotional, phenomenological christianity had the greatest appeal to Pusey, at that time a great enjoyer of the poetry of Byron, even if he doubted its morality. Pusey also doubted some aspects of Schleiermacher's theology, believing that it led to a sort of pantheism where Christ is noteworthy for being a man with slightly more God than the average person. But the feeling of dependence on God being the basis of faith had a major impact on Pusey even though he complimented this with a deep study and apologetic for the historic basis of the old testament. It is interesting that one of the great sources of liberal theology should have had such an impact on a conservative thinker like Pusey.
The social and economic background of the period is the industrial and agricultural unrest of the 1820s and 30s. This is the period of the Luddites smashing threshing machines, and Whig reforms. To give an idea of the Oxford Movement's class position, the author quotes from Prof Trevelyan “at Isaac Williams's parish in 1830 'there occurred some agrarian riots, and every one was much alarmed and panic struck; John Keble rode with the mob fearlessly and good- naturedly, entreating them not to demolish the farmer's machines; they put forth a Methodist preacher to answer him, as he stood on a machine begging them to desist.'”
The point is further made for Newman:
“[Newman's] interest in the lower orders was confined to their souls. Poverty and subjection are, it is well known, good for the soul. He was, as Mozley observed, no morbid philanthropist or indiscriminate almsgiver'. The task of the servant--the slave even--is to be a good servant, or a good slave”
Newman is portrayed as more realist in his conception of politics however. The author writes:
“But if [Newman] expected the lower orders to accept their lot in life with Christian fortitude, he had a natural sense of their power, when they moved together in a mass. ‘The nation (i.e, numerically the plethos) is for revolution. They certainly have the physical power. This of the Reform Bill. The thing must come. There is no more to be said about it. Let the Church look to her defences. It is the sophism of the day to put religious considerations out of sight.’”
A fear of the mob, of democracy, of rationalism, (of perhaps even one's own sexuality) may have spurred on the Oxford Movement, but once activated, their thought on the right relation of religion and politics gained a life of its own that was not subject to the same conservate reactions that engendered it, as evidenced by the suicidal defection of Newman to the Roman Catholics. This action killed the movement, yet certain similarities may be noted in later intellectual movements who likewise lamented the particularising and desanctifying features of liberalism. The manias of the Oxford Movement are therefore worth paying attention to, not just to chuckle at them, but also to understand them. As a vision into the world of the men that protagonised this historical conjunction, this book is practically perfect.
However, given that today anglo-catholics are mainly known as the “smells and bells” party, that is, a group advocating for ritualistic elements in the liturgy (eg. six candles on the altar instead of four etc), and that the Oxford Movement’s ideas of reform went relatively much deeper in areas other than liturgy, on which it was in practice largely uninterested (Pusey in 1860 wrote that “he never had any sympathy for anything of ritualism, or especially any revival of disused Vestments”, and as late as 1834 Newman was still not celebrating the Lord's Supper weekly in his parish church of St Mary's), this is actually somewhat of a misconception.
As Faber says, “The whole of the Oxford Movement was, in effect, a passionate assertion that the Church must rule or society cease to be Christian.” This strikes us today as an impossibly reactionary and far fetched aim. And indeed even in its own time it was, and was seen to be by the movement’s opponents. It was, however, a proposition that at least made sense in the political context of the time, where politics was still religious and religion still political. As with most political theories, its most coherent and self conscious expression happened in the dying days of the thought world that produced it. Beyond Oxford lay full and irreversible secularisation, for which incense and chasubles were merely a consolation prize.
Another confusion, linked to the first, is regarding the binary high/low Church. These days this is an unnecessary semantic duplication of the anglo-catholic/evangelical divide. However, in the early 19th century and earlier it had primarily a political meaning, distinct from theological and liturgical ones. These terms spring from the constitutional settlement of 1688 which granted much more latitude to dissenters. Those who opposed this were High Church, those who supported this toleration were Low Church. Newman also takes this back in time in his later Roman Catholic writing, classifying as High Church those (the Calvinist Archbishop Whitgift most remarkably) who were Erastians and saw the Church as an essential department of state for the control and influence of the general population, and those who supported greater independence of the church and freedom of consciousness (Presbyterians vs Independents one could say). The Oxford Movement were then, higher than high, they did not see the Church as a department of state, but rather as the divine source of the government’s earthly authority. Therefore any
diminution in the rights, privileges or benefits of the Church of England, was not simply a step down the slippery slope of toleration (which any old Tory could believe), but an affront to the majesty of God. This can be seen simply in the title of John Keble's Sermon “National Apostasy” which began the Tracts for the Times. The circumstance for this “apostasy” was the reduction of the number of bishoprics of the unreal Church of Ireland. Considering this was a church funded by tithes from Irish Roman Catholics who did not attend its services, this was the least that any person could have done. And by 1869 Gladstone ultimately disestablished it. But for the Oxford Movement it was a shocking concession by the secular forces that there was space under heaven where the Church (which, given their cultural blinkers, could only mean the Church of England) could not rule. Of course the idea that government should follow the church and not vice versa was actually closer to the Roman Catholic view and it is not surprising, though ironic given the starting point of the Tracts in acting as apologia for the subjugation of Catholics, that Newman ended up crossing the Tiber.
The author states that his aim in this book is to try to understand the period in its own terms, rather than dismissing the whole enterprise as the day-dreaming of mediaevalist fantasists as Lytton Strachey has it in Eminent Victorians. In the case of the political theology of the Oxford Movement this is essential in even a very superficial way (as recollected above) in order to understand why they acted as they did. Another aspect of the book is its psychological examinations of its characters. Newman's, Froudes's and Pusey's diaries and personal letters are poured over for revealing admissions and omissions. This makes for a fascinating and colourful read, if it is somewhat poetical and imaginative at times. A psychological investigation that claimed to be absolutely scientific would be worse than useless, so the tone and purview of the book's investigation in this regard is very welcome. The discussion on virginity and friendship amongst the Tractarians is the most respectful and worthwhile discussion of this oftentimes distracting topic.
In regards to understanding the Oxford Movement on its own terms, the book also considers the intellectual and social situation of the time. One interesting example is Pusey's experience with early 19th century German criticism. Pusey first travelled to Germany in 1825 to learn German and study the Pentateuch under professor Eichhorn. Eichhorn was a thoroughgoing rationalist who did not treat any of the supernatural stories of the old testament as literally true. This shocked Pusey who worried of the effect if this sort of thinking came to Britain. Afterwards Pusey went to Berlin and studied under Schleiermacher whose emotional, phenomenological christianity had the greatest appeal to Pusey, at that time a great enjoyer of the poetry of Byron, even if he doubted its morality. Pusey also doubted some aspects of Schleiermacher's theology, believing that it led to a sort of pantheism where Christ is noteworthy for being a man with slightly more God than the average person. But the feeling of dependence on God being the basis of faith had a major impact on Pusey even though he complimented this with a deep study and apologetic for the historic basis of the old testament. It is interesting that one of the great sources of liberal theology should have had such an impact on a conservative thinker like Pusey.
The social and economic background of the period is the industrial and agricultural unrest of the 1820s and 30s. This is the period of the Luddites smashing threshing machines, and Whig reforms. To give an idea of the Oxford Movement's class position, the author quotes from Prof Trevelyan “at Isaac Williams's parish in 1830 'there occurred some agrarian riots, and every one was much alarmed and panic struck; John Keble rode with the mob fearlessly and good- naturedly, entreating them not to demolish the farmer's machines; they put forth a Methodist preacher to answer him, as he stood on a machine begging them to desist.'”
The point is further made for Newman:
“[Newman's] interest in the lower orders was confined to their souls. Poverty and subjection are, it is well known, good for the soul. He was, as Mozley observed, no morbid philanthropist or indiscriminate almsgiver'. The task of the servant--the slave even--is to be a good servant, or a good slave”
Newman is portrayed as more realist in his conception of politics however. The author writes:
“But if [Newman] expected the lower orders to accept their lot in life with Christian fortitude, he had a natural sense of their power, when they moved together in a mass. ‘The nation (i.e, numerically the plethos) is for revolution. They certainly have the physical power. This of the Reform Bill. The thing must come. There is no more to be said about it. Let the Church look to her defences. It is the sophism of the day to put religious considerations out of sight.’”
A fear of the mob, of democracy, of rationalism, (of perhaps even one's own sexuality) may have spurred on the Oxford Movement, but once activated, their thought on the right relation of religion and politics gained a life of its own that was not subject to the same conservate reactions that engendered it, as evidenced by the suicidal defection of Newman to the Roman Catholics. This action killed the movement, yet certain similarities may be noted in later intellectual movements who likewise lamented the particularising and desanctifying features of liberalism. The manias of the Oxford Movement are therefore worth paying attention to, not just to chuckle at them, but also to understand them. As a vision into the world of the men that protagonised this historical conjunction, this book is practically perfect.
July 29, 2023
Faber's book is rather small in scope (compared to other books on the Oxford Movement), but ends up having a large output. Faber's attempt to use 'modern psychology' in order to analyse the persons of the Oxford Movement does tend to fall rather flat on its face. Whilst his scholarship is clearly great in terms of the number of letters and diaries he has read, his conclusions end up feeling rather woolly and generalistic. They seem to over-simplify or over-complicated the motives and thoughts of Newman, Keble, Pusey, Ward etc... I think Faber is at his best when he is telling the story (with thanks, of course, being given to the story to being electrifying). Faber comes out at his best when he is explaining what is going on on the surface, rather than underneath; a very complicated period is brought under control by his publisher's finesse for cutting through the intricacies and confusions.
February 27, 2012
Well informed but uncharitable biography of Blessed John Henry Newman's Anglican years.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews