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Browning, Blougram, and belief.

GERARD MANLEy HOPKINS (1844-89), Victorian poet and contemporary of Robert Browning (1812-89), wrote "Seven Epigrams," the sixth of which reads:
 By one of the old school who was bid to follow Mr.
 Browning's flights:
 To rise you bid me with the lark:
 With me 'tis rising in the dark. (1)

"Dark" in this telling couplet certainly means without inspiration, or even admiration. On another occasion, in a letter to Robert Bridges dated November 27, 1882, Hopkins explicates his poem "Walking by the Sea," later titled "The Sea and the Skylark," and says: "There is, you see, plenty meant; but the saying of it smells, I fear, of the lamp, of salad oil, and what is nastier, in one line somewhat of Robert Browning." (2) Hopkins critic Paul Mariani conjectures that in all likelihood the line was "Race wild reel round, crisp coil deal down to floor," (3) reminiscent of Browning's "Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the mawcrammed beast?" from "Rabbi Ben Ezra." (4) Hopkins was put off by "the clogged consonantal tongue twisting," or what someone else has called Browning's "lumpy and gritty erudition." (5) Hopkins eliminated the line in question from the final version of his poem.

Apart from Hopkins' usage, "dark" had the more widely held sense of "obscure meaning" when applied to Browning's poetry. An often repeated story from the Browning lore concerns "Sordello," perhaps the most boldly obscure of all his works. As the story goes, shortly after publication of "Sordello," Robert Browning at a social gathering was approached by one of his devoted admirers. "Mr. Browning," the lady began, "I dearly love your new poem, but I am having difficulty with these lines." At that point she produced the troubling passage for Browning to read. After briefly scanning the lines, Browning turned to the lady saying: "Madam, when those lines were written two knew their meaning, God and Browning. Now only God Knows."

Whether the story is true or apocryphal its point is accurate, for Browning "was addicted to touch-and-go allusions which demand extensive knowledge on the reader's part, to plunge in media res without preliminary description of character, place, or time, and above all to elliptical syntax and the sudden jump from thought to thought without benefit of connecting links." (6) Such unconnected jumps prompted one of Browning's friends to protest his use of "hieroglyphics" and torn scraps of meaning that required his readers to fill in the gaps. His wife, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, observed: "A good deal of what is called obscurity in you, arises from a habit of very subtle association; so subtle, that you are probably unconscious of it ... the effect of which is to throw together on the same level and in the same light, things of likeness and unlikeness--till the reader grows confused as I did." (7)

The critical negativism caused by these structural practices has been intensified by Browning's philosophical habit-of-mind repeatedly referred to as optimism. Browning's boisterous joy in life sprang from a passionate love of existence. He believed that every person has some window through which he or she can view the essential excellence of things and like Pippa can know that "God's in his heaven,--/All's right with the world!" (8) All of this was so for Browning because he accepted life as he found it, inherently good even though at times it goes wrong. He, like Shakespeare, understood the weak, the erring, the self-deceiving, but the fact that the world is imperfect implies a design of perfection; incompleteness itself argues that there is a completeness. Thus, deficiency may always be the basis of hope and provides an excellent argument for an optimisim not founded on "opinions which were the work of Browning but on life which was the work of God." (9)

The critics who were contemptuous of these views because they (the critics) were complete skeptics or because they relied wholly on dogma called them (the views) sentimental and complacent optimism. Critics like G. K. Chesterton, on the other hand, talked of "real" optimism, stressing that that optimism acknowledged sorrow and self-denial as burdens, to be sure, but also as privileges. Furthermore, Albert Baugh says that in Browning's ideology "evil and falsehood have no real existence in themselves but are manifestations by contrariety of love and truth. Care and pain are pledges of the divine regard. Strength comes from an obstructed road; assurance would breed torpor but difficulty increases power." (10)This facet of Browning's optimism in one way parallels German idealism's argument that imagination creates evil so that human will will be strengthened in combating it. Browning, however, went beyond a mere this-worldly idealism for he found this life's failure to fulfill the nobler aspirations of humankind to be argument for immortality.

Even though I have used the word humankind to make a general point about Browning's thought, it was not humankind as genre that personally or poetically concerned him; it was the individual, and more often than not the evil individual whom he had a willingness to present without condemnation. The Duke in "My Last Duchess," for example, has had his wife killed, and in telling of the deed and the "causes" for it, he unintentionally reveals his temperament and his character. In the direct presentation of the Duke and out of a desire to render the complexities of motive, Browning makes no overt moral judgment; he leaves that to the reader. At other times he presents with sympathy persons who one ordinarily might say call for reproof: Fra Lippo Lippi and his fleshly life and art or the lovers in "Respectability" who flout society's conventions. At still other times, when he presents Sludge the Medium, for instance, Browning tends towards casuistry. (I use the term here as The Oxford Universal Dictionary defines it: "that part of Ethics which resolves cases of conscience," a science, not as so frequently stated a quibbling or evasive way of dealing with conflicting ideas or practices.) Sludge has been exposed as an unquestionable practitioner of trickery, but as he for the first time in his life tells the whole truth about himself he explores the very real ethical problem of distinguishing truth from fiction. With Chesterton's words, at what point does the "romancer" turn into a "liar"?

Emerging dramatically from this variety of perspectives is the frequently stated evaluation of "Bishop Blougram's Apology" as an incredibly optimistic attempt to make the best case for a sophistical priest at his worst--and thus quibblingly casuistical. I argue that that judgment arises from a reckless reading of the poem and a complete unknowingness or a wilful ignoring of what Browning himself said about the poem and about Cardinal Nicholas Wiseman, the model for Bishop Blougram, a character variously called a snob, self-indulgent, vain, and vulgar. Browning's remarks, recounted by Charles Gavin Duffy, cofounder of the Irish journal The Nation and later an eminent politician in Australia where he emigrated, appear in Duffy's memoirs. There he tells of a conversation he had at dinner one night with Browning and John Forster, biographer of Oliver Goldsmith, Walter Savage Landor, and Charles Dickens. As they talked, Duffy made some reference to his own adherence to Roman Catholicism, eliciting from Forster the half jesting remark that Browning would probably not like him any better for that. Browning showed astonishment at the comment and asked why Forster should conclude that he had any antagonism toward the Roman Church. Almost simultaneously Forster and Duffy referred to "Bishop Blougram's Apology," asking if the "sophistical and self-indulgent" Bishop had not been a satire on Cardinal Wiseman. Browning, as the anecdote goes on, said that certainly he had intended the portrait to be of Cardinal Wiseman but that he saw it in no way as a satire. "'There is,' he added, 'nothing hostile about it.'" (11) If one reads the poem with care, he or she can find no lines legitimately characterizing the Bishop as a vulgar, vain snob.

I must point out here that even though the poem is a dramatic monologue with Bishop Blougram as the only speaker, the course of the apologia is dictated by the Bishop's adversary, Gigadibs, whose never-speaking presence is constantly before us and whose detestation of Blougram is known to us because it is clear to Blougram himself. Furthermore, the Bishop's method of argument is to start from Gigadibs' own positions--a point I shall treat at length shortly--and then answer with brilliance and sophistication as well as with subtlety and irony. So when Blougram talks of himself as a beast or as lacking Gigadibs' "better elements," "nobler instincts," or "purer tastes," he is attacking Gigadibs' smug self-conceit. Or when he speculates about being made pope and says:
 Thus God might touch a Pope
 At unawares, ask what his baubles mean,
 And whose part he presumed to play just now.
 Best be yourself, imperial plain and true (12)

he is deftly satirizing Gigadibs' pompous self-righteousness, not exposing qualities of his own character as I have already noted that the Duke does in "My Last Duchess." Even G. K. Chesterton, generally an astute commentator, errs grievously in calling the Bishop "a vulgar, fashionable priest, justifying his own cowardice over the comfortable wine and the cigars," or as he does again in his immediately following statement when he talks of Browning's "knaves," a term that inarguably includes Blougram. (13) So, if Browning's denial of any hostility and satire in the portrait of the Bishop--a denial known to Chesterton--is honest, and I believe it is, it cannot be reconciled with the qualities Chesterton and others attribute to Bishop Blougram.

How then, apart from whatever poetical obscurity may exist in the presentation, have these traits been affixed to Bishop Blougram? To answer, one may reasonably conclude that then-current prejudices about Cardinal Wiseman were transferred to the poetical prelate.

A quick glance at history here will help our understanding. In the generation preceding the sixteenth-century Reformation, the Court of Rome had been a scandal to the Christian name. As Thomas Babington Macaulay wrote:
 Choice cookery, delicious wines, lovely women, hounds, falcons,
 horses, newly-discovered manuscripts of the classics, sonnets,
 and burlesque romances in the sweetest Tuscan, just as licentious
 as a fine sense of the graceful would permit, plate from the hand
 of Benvenuto, designs for palaces by Michael Angelo, frescoes by
 Raphael, busts, mosaics, and gems just dug up from among the
 ruins of ancient temples and villas, these things were the
 delight and even the serious business of their lives. (14)

Added to this profligacy, the Inquisition, armed with extraordinary powers after the Reformation began, set about persecuting and crushing Protestantism, or even the semblance of Protestantism wherever it showed itself.

The long-lasting memory of these abuses and oppressions among English non-Catholics was aggravated at the end of the seventeenth century by Titus Oates's deposing before magistrate Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey that a Popish Plot was afoot to suppress Protestantism, a plot, he said, that included assassinating Charles II and placing the Catholic James, Duke of York, on the throne. The day following Oates's deposition, Godfrey was found murdered and an anti-Catholic frenzy ensued.

The centuries-old fear of Catholic oppression, incubated by English fanatics and indelibly impressed on one generation after another, violently erupted again in 1850 when the Holy See restored the Roman Catholic hierarchy in England and named Wiseman cardinal and archbishop of Westminster, the sole metropolitan see with twelve suffragans. Universal News, a secular newspaper of the time, said that these events of 1850 were ludicrously seen as "papal aggression" while another publication, The London Review, said they caused an outburst of national indignation and resentment that had no parallel since the days of the Popish Plot. The intense anger of the non-Catholic English was in the first instance directed against the reinstatement in their midst of the Catholic Church, but in turn it was directed against Cardinal Wiseman as the immediately accessible representative of those thoroughly committed to the Ultramontane doctrine. Furthermore, his person, his tastes, his talents, and his activities provided ample grounds for attack.

The Daily Telegraph said: "His portly figure, his pleasant smile and jovial good-humored face accorded ill with the popular delusion which represents all priests of the Church of Rome as ascetic fanatics or Machiavellian intriguers." It went on to say that he was a person fond of social pleasures in moderation and "represented his Church in her more showy, brilliant, and social character" as she is when she "patronizes art and loves pomp and sustains the idea of hierarchical grandeur." (15) Another newspaper, The Tablet, wrote that "the ignorant and malicious called him worldly-minded, self-indulgent, fond of pomp and display, a proud prelate, and an ambitious ecclesiastic." This last accusation was fed by two pastoral letters that Cardinal Wiseman wrote from Rome. Since the pope was the only one who had the right to date his pastorals from the city of Rome, Wiseman sent his tidings from "out of the Flaminian gate of Rome," the Flaminian Way being the major artery out of Rome. George White, acquaintance of the Cardinal and author of Memoir of His Eminence Cardinal Wiseman: First Archbishop of Westminster (1865), says that the misinterpretation of these documents led to a public frenzy. On one occasion, as reported by The Sun, the sober and respected Times speculated in tribute to Cardinal Wiseman's genius that it was highly probable that he would be elevated to the Papal Throne under the name Pius X. In the hands of Wiseman's enemies, however, all this, along with activities like his celebrating first communions and confirmations for the families of French princes who were exiled to England because of the February Revolution of 1848 and the subsequent coup d'etat when Louis Napoleon Bonaparte became Emperor as Napoleon III, was "proof " of his pride and ambition, and the general English public eagerly seized upon such "proof." Let me reiterate though that the ecclesiastically nonpartisan newspapers, like several of those cited above, regularly made a point of calling the public who harbored these antagonistic views "malicious and ignorant" and the views themselves as "delusions" and "ludicrous," so anyone attributing these often and falsely proclaimed traits of the Cardinal to Bishop Blougram creates a portrait of the Bishop that in its inception is unsound and that in a careful reading of the dramatic monologue itself is unsustainable.

As important as it it is for us to know who Blougram is not, it is obviously even more important to know who he is, a knowledge that can be acquired only through understanding Blougram's arguments. Since, however, everything the Bishop says, as we have already noted, is determined by his adversary, the muta persona Gigadibs, we must first, then, understand who Gigadibs is. Blougram explicitly says that he is "thirty years of age" (BBA, 944), half of Blou-gram's age (BBA, 897), and a journalist who contributes material regularly to the distinguished literary journal Blackwoods Edinburgh Magazine (BBA, 945). His work, however, has drawn no attention because his ideas are like "loose cards/ Flung daily down, and not the same way twice" (BBA, 988-89). He is also the author of a piece of sensationalist journalism on Dickens that earned him ten pounds and one month of slight recognition (BBA, 950-54), while his one scholarly work on "two points in Hamlet's soul/ Unseized by the Germans yet" (BBA, 946-47) is still unpublished. On the whole, he is "the rough and ready man who write[s] apace,/ Read[s] somewhat seldomer,--think[s] perhaps even less" (BBA, 421-23). Still, his great ambition is "success," the point of his name that Chesterton seems to miss when he calls it an "impossible" name. A "gig," according to Funk and Wagnalls Standard College Dictionary, is an arrangement of four barbless fishhooks fastened back to back and drawn through a school of fish to catch them in their bodies. The Oxford Universal Dictionary says that "dibs" is a slang term for money that arose in the second decade of the 1800s, so Browning quite clearly intends the name to connote the snaring of wealth as at least part of the bearer's notion of success. In addition, Bishop Blougram points out that Gigadibs would further think himself successful if he could find and write about "the honest thief, the tender murderer,/ The superstitious atheist" (BBA, 396-97), or most significantly the unbelieving "believer," the Bishop revealing "the Eccentric Confidence" (BBA, 962), Blougram's confessing "He's quite above their humbug in his heart" (BBA, 41). Gigadibs is convinced that a person who is intelligent, and he thinks Blougram is, and who still accepts the articles of Christian faith has to be a hypocrite, which he is also convinced his meeting with Blougram will confirm. Gigadibs in all this is arrogant and conceited and assumes that his integrity--and thus his life--are far superior to those of the Bishop, attitudes that quickly determine that Blougram's argumentation will be that of attack, not defense, and that he will proceed from grounds acceptable to the skeptic, that is from Gigadibs's own premises.

Before proceeding further, I must refer the reader to F. E. L. Priestly's insightful essay "Blougram's Apologetics" and note my indebtedness to his careful and thoroughly detailed presentation of the course of the Bishop's argument. (16) Here I shall move from major point to major point, a progression that omits many of Blougram's arresting details and some of Browning's poetic brilliance but one that will still be adequate for our understanding. In the first instance, to counter Gigadibs's charges that the Bishop is less ascetic and otherworldly than a bishop should be, Blougram argues that one's plan of life must come from life as it is,
 no abstract intellectual plan of life
 Quite irrespective of life's plainest laws,
 But one a man who is a man and nothing more,
 May lead within a world which (by your leave)
 Is Rome or London, not Fool's-paradise. (BBA, 92-96)

This is the first premise that Gigadibs must accept because skeptic that he is, he cannot admit otherworldly criteria. Once he has agreed to such a this-worldly criterion, Blougram can question whether Gigadibs's plan of life is truly superior to Blougram's. If mundane values are the only ones to be accepted, whose life better realizes those values? A bishopric affords such ready access to the good things of this life (as well, of course, as to many other good things) that Blougram can also ask Gigadibs, "Won't you be a bishop too?" (BBA, 150).

Blougram knows the answer to his own question: Gigadibs cannot believe "fixedly/ And absolutely and exclusively/ In any revelation called divine" (BBA, 151-53). Furthermore, he challenges the utility of belief, but in doing so he, to be consistent, must show the utility of unbelief. The Bishop points out that if Gigadibs adheres fixedly and absolutely and exclusively to unbelief then, because every act in life implies a faith in the value of what he strives for, all that is possible for Gigadibs if he is a thorough unbeliever is to stay in bed and "abstain from healthy acts that prove you man" (BBA, 258). Even on the basis of material values alone, if that is what Gigadibs chooses, Blou-gram can show the fruits of "power, peace, pleasantries, and length of days" (BBA, 237) that have accrued to him, but those achievements did not occur because of indifference. Blougram makes these points about success from the agreed-upon premise of unbelief, but Gigadibs would argue that if the bishop "were made of better elements/With nobler instincts, purer tastes" (BBA, 342-43) he would not account such things success. Gigadibs will not allow the validity of the ascetic ideal but at the same time he condemns Blougram for not following it. He does indeed show that as a journalist who judges from "gross weights, coarse scales, and labels broad" (BBA, 403) he certainly is not an expert on values and ideals.

As to Gigadibs's own ideal, he cannot say who or what it is, so Blougram offers suggestions: Napoleon, the man of action, or Shakespeare the great artist. In looking at the lives of these two men and remembering that the guiding premise is still Gigadibsian unbelief, what in Napoleon's life serves as an admirable model? "What's the vague good o' the world, for which you dare/ With comfort to yourself blow millions up?" (BBA, 455-56). Bishop Blougram suggests that the leader with great power has to have faith to plunge nations into war for his cause; otherwise, he must be a madman: "Be a Napoleon, and yet disbelieve --/ Why, the man's mad" (BBA, 453-54). Since that example does not work, what of Shakespeare, who from the point of view of-materialism sought the same things that Gigadibs charges Blougram wants? From that premise Blougram bests Shakespeare, but only from that premise. Reducing Shakespeare's life and achievements to materiality alone is absurd, and by seeing that absurdity, the assumption of unbelief is terminated as Gigadibs is forced to see something beyond this life. As Gigadibs has been brought to acknowledge the use of faith, Blougram points out: "We're back on Christian ground" (BBA, 601).

Even as he reaches this point of acceptance Gigadibs still holds the conviction that the Bishop harbors a secret skepticism. When he posits that Blougram should have "whole faith, or none!" (BBA, 598), he opens the door for the Bishop's long-awaited chance to make his capping point: "I show you doubt to prove that faith exists" (BBA, 602). This approach intellectually is one with Browning's habit mentioned earlier of seeing imperfection as an implication of perfection, of incompleteness as an argument for completeness. Blougram proceeds, proving that faith exists does not mean that faith is empirical knowledge.
 It is the idea, the feeling and the love,
 God means mankind should strive for and show forth
 Whatever be the process to the end,--
 And not historic knowledge, logic sound,
 And metaphysical acumen, sure (BBA, 621-25)

He goes on: "If you desire faith--then you've faith enough:/ What else seeks God--nay, what else seek ourselves?" (BBA, 634-35). Furthermore, when faith struggles internally with doubt, then "A man's worth something" (BBA, 694). When all is said and done, Gig-adibs is "free to publish to the eager world the startling revelations that the Bishop, though not necessarily granting the good things of this world pre-eminence, does not despise them and actually enjoys good food, works of art, and a position of eminence; and that he, like most theologians, distinguishes between faith and knowledge, recognizing the activity of the will in belief." (17)

As Gigadibs leaves Blougram's table, the Bishop surmises that the journalist, whatever he decides to write, will at least discontinue despising him as an opponent because the Bishop has been intellectually impressive in a rational dialogue--a dialogue even though the Bishop has done all the talking. Blougram has accomplished more than he dared hope for, however, for a week after the confrontation, Gigadibs renounces his literary ambitions, his dreams of power and prominence, and sails for Australia to pursue a life of faith.

The careful reading of "Bishop Blougram's Apology" that I have urged heretofore helps one now to see that Gigadibs's change of heart and purpose have occurred because Blougram has revealed his belief while expressing his intellectual arguments. We are told that Blougram "believed, say, half he spoke," making us quickly recognize that all else was shaped for argumentative purposes. Reasonably, the Bishop's personal beliefs are not in the arguments he makes from Gigadibs's own premises; they are, though, set forth again and again in the heightened poetry of memorable lines like
 Just when we are safest, there's a sunset-touch, A fancy from a
 flower-bell, some one's death, A chorus ending from
 And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears
 As old and new at once as Nature's self,
 To rap and knock and enter in our soul,
 Take hands and dance there, a fantastic ring, Round the ancient
 idol, on his base again--
 The grand Perhaps! (BBA, 182-90)

This passage and its succeeding lines, predicated on the often repeated supposition that disbelief is the natural condition of human kind, is shot through with affirmations of faith, for "would we not," as Houghton and Stange note, "when confronted with certain great experiences be subject to 'doubts,' to a belief that there is a God after all? In this inverted argument the 'grand Perhaps' is a doubting of unbelief." (18) Other striking statements of Blougram's belief can be found in lines 560 and 561: "belief's fire, once in us,/ Makes of all else mere stuff to show itself,"and lines 621 to 625 just cited above.

At other times Blougram shows a tough-minded Christianity not open to every popular "theological" position, pantheism in particular. Talking about God the Omnipotent, Omniscient, Omnipresent, he says: "Some think, Creation's meant to show him forth:/ I say it's meant to hide him all it can" (BBA, 652-53). In the first instance, these lines with those that follow make the point that the finite person is incapable of confronting directly the Infinite Being whose power, glory, and person are so overwhelming that the human creature would "wither up at once" if he or she were not "environed" against these divine attributes. At the same time, though, these lines may also be arguing that the intrinsic nature of God is only that of Person in opposition, say, to Alfred Lord Tennyson's stance in "Flower in the Crannied Wall," lines frequently cited as the age's most pointed statement of pantheism:
 Flower in the crannied wall,
 I pluck you out of the crannies,
 I hold you here, root and all in my hand,
 Little flower--but if I could understand
 What you are, root and all, and all in all,
 I should know what God and man is. (19)

The singular verb "is" says that God, man, and flower are all one. Blougram, however, in saying that creation is meant to hide--not in the sense of intentionally covering up but in the sense of not revealing--says that God is Infinite Personal Mind, not some material that decays, not some energy that eventually dissipates, not one who like the crannied flower would cease with the physical system. God is independent of the world He has made.

Somewhere Thomas Merton said that the Christian answer to hate is faith, a truth that Bishop Blougram demonstrates in his approach to Gigadibs. The Bishop, understanding that persons do not respond affirmatively when directed to religion but that they sometimes do when directed to God, makes certain that his intellectual arguments are bolstered by his statements of belief. His method has been to state the comparative difficulties of belief and unbelief. The major difference in the two, however, is that even though both have some apparent limitations at the periphery, unbelief has rejection at the center. Blougram's purpose is to eliminate the skeptic's central rejection. At times when Bishop Blougram knows he has the mastery of Gigadibs while using Gigadibs's own premises, he takes delight in the mastery, but when the conscientious reader sees the Bishop's character in its entirety, he or she has a hard time discovering the vulgar, vain, snobbish, sophistical, indulgent priest-at-his-worst who is attempting to justify his own cowardice that the critics have repeatedly depicted. The gap between what a person is and what others say that person is is often real and recognizable in life, but no like gap of any magnitude should exist between a literary character and the reader. Such a gap, because of externals that have created presuppositions and because of a superficial reading of the work itself, has existed far too long in "Bishop Blougram's Apology" and consequently the intent and achievement of the poem have suffered greatly. When G. K. Chesterton says that the poem is one of the most grotesque in the poet's works, he is absolutely wrong. Gigadibs's ultimate pursuit of a life of faith says so.


(1.) The Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins, ed. W. H. Gardner and N. H. Mackenzie. 4th ed. (London: Oxford University Press, 1967), 133.

(2.) The Letters of Gerard Manley Hopkins to Robert Bridges, ed. Claude Colleer Abbot (London: Oxford University Press, 1970), 164.

(3.) Paul L. Mariani, A Commentary on the Complete Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1970), 104, n.45.

(4.) Walter E. Houghton and G. Robert Stange, ed., Victorian Poetry and Prose (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1959), 268.

(5.) Mariani, A Commentary, 104, n.45.

(6.) Houghton/Stange, Victorian Poetry and Prose, 152.

(7.) Ibid.

(8.) Ibid., 163.

(9.) G. K. Chesterton, Robert Browning (New York: Macmillan, 1903), 180.

(10.) Albert C. Baugh, ed., A Literary History of England (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1948), 1400.

(11.) Cited in Chesterton, Robert Browning, 188.

(12.) Houghton/Stange, Victorian Poetry and Prose, 218. The page numbers cited from "Bishop Blougram's Apology" in the text with the abbreviation BBA refer to this source.

(13.) Chesterton, Robert Browning, 201.

(14.) Thomas Babington Macaulay, Critical and Historical Essays, Everyman's Library, 2 vols. (London: J. M. Dent & Co., n.d.), 11, 54.

(15.) George White, Memoir of His Eminence Cardinal Wiseman: First Archbishop of Westminster 1865 (Kessinger Publishing's Rare Prints acquired from the catalog at "Opinions of the Press" cited in the text are appended to the Memoir, 57-70.

(16.) F. E. L. Priestly, "Blougram's Apologetics," The University of Toronto Quarterly 15 (1945-46), 139-47.

(17.) Ibid., 146.

(18.) Houghton/Stange, Victorian Poetry and Prose, 220, n.10.

(19.) Alfred Lord Tennyson, The Norton Anthology of English Literature, ed. M. H. Abrams, 5th ed. 2 vols. (New York: W.W. Norton,& Company, 1986), 11, 1212.
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Author:Howard, H. Wendell
Publication:Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture
Date:Mar 22, 2010
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