of theology; it informally, but effectually, declared against him.  The Bishops, one by one, of course only spoke as individuals; but they were the official spokesmen of the Church, and their consent, though not the act of a Synod, was weighty—­they too had declared against him.  And finally that vague but powerful voice of public opinion, which claims to represent at once the cool judgment of the unbiassed, and the passion of the zealous—­it too declared against him.  Could he claim to understand the mind of the Church better than its own organs?

Then at length a change came; and it was marked outwardly by a curious retractation of his severe language about Rome, published in a paper called the Conservative Journal, in January 1843; and more distinctly, by his resignation of St. Mary’s in September 1843, a step contemplated for some time, and by his announcement that he was preparing to resign his fellowship.  From this time he felt that he could no longer hold office, or be a champion of the English Church; from this time, it was only a matter of waiting, waiting to make quite certain that he was right and was under no delusion, when he should leave her for the Roman Communion.  And to his intimate friends, to his sisters, he gave notice that this was now impending.  To the world outside, all that was known was that he was much unsettled and distressed by difficulties.

It may be asked why this change was not at this time communicated, not to a few intimates, but to the world?  Why did he not at this time hoist his quarantine flag and warn every one that he was dangerous to come near?  So keen a mind must, it was said, have by this time foreseen how things would end; he ought to have given earlier notice.  His answer was that he was sincerely desirous of avoiding, as far as possible, what might prejudice the Church in which he had ministered, even at the moment of leaving her.  He saw his own way becoming clearer and clearer; but he saw it for himself alone.  He was not one of those who forced the convictions of others; he was not one of those who think it a great thing to be followed in a serious change by a crowd of disciples.  Whatever might be at the end, it was now an agonising wrench to part from the English body, to part from the numbers of friends whose loyalty was immovable, to part from numbers who had trusted and learned from him.  Of course, if he was in the right way, he could wish them nothing better than that they should follow him.  But they were in God’s hands; it was not his business to unsettle them; it was not his business to ensnare and coerce their faith.  And so he tried for this time to steer his course alone.  He wished to avoid observation.  He was silent on all that went on round him, exciting as some of the incidents were.  He would not he hurried; he would give himself full time; he would do what he could to make sure that he was not acting under the influence of a delusion.