Yet one other effort I made to save myself from the difficulties I foresaw in connexion with this final breach with Christianity.  There was one man who had in former days wielded over me a great influence, one whose writings had guided and taught me for many years—­Dr. Pusey, the venerable leader of the Catholic party in the Church, the learned Patristic scholar, full of the wisdom of antiquity.  He believed in Christ as God; what if I put my difficulties to him?  If he resolved them for me I should escape the struggle I foresaw; if he could not resolve them, then no answer to them was to be hoped for.  My decision was quickly made; being with my mother, I could write to him unnoticed, and I sat down and put my questions clearly and fully, stating my difficulties and asking him whether, out of his wider knowledge and deeper reading, he could resolve them for me.  I wish I could here print his answer, together with two or three other letters I received from him, but the packet was unfortunately stolen from my desk and I have never recovered it.  Dr. Pusey advised me to read Liddon’s “Bampton Lectures”, referred me to various passages, chiefly from the Fourth Gospel, if I remember rightly, and invited me to go down to Oxford and talk over my difficulties.  Liddon’s “Bampton Lectures” I had thoroughly studied, and the Fourth Gospel had no weight with me, the arguments in favor of its Alexandrian origin being familiar to me, but I determined to accept his invitation to a personal interview, regarding it as the last chance of remaining in the Church.

To Oxford, accordingly, I took the train, and made my way to the famous Doctor’s rooms.  I was shown in, and saw a short, stout gentleman, dressed in a cassock, and looking like a comfortable monk; but the keen eyes, steadfastly gazing straight into mine, told me of the power and subtlety hidden by the unprepossessing form.  The head was fine and impressive, the voice low, penetrating, drilled into a somewhat monotonous and artificially subdued tone.  I quickly found that no sort of enlightenment could possibly result from our interview.  He treated me as a penitent going to confession, seeking the advice of a director, not as an enquirer struggling after truth, and resolute to obtain some firm standing-ground in the sea of doubt, whether on the shores of orthodoxy or of heresy.  He would not deal with the question of the Deity of Jesus as a question for argument; he reminded me:  “You are speaking of your judge,” when I pressed some question.  The mere suggestion of an imperfection in Jesus’ character made him shudder in positive pain, and he checked me with raised hand, and the rebuke:  “You are blaspheming; the very thought is a terrible sin”.  I asked him if he could recommend to me any books which would throw light on the subject:  “No, no, you have read too much already.  You must pray; you must pray.”  Then, as I said that I could not believe without proof, I was told:  “Blessed are they that have not seen,