of genius, and a lofty character, and the statesman’s eye, taking in and judging accurately the whole of a complicated scene, which conferred the gifts, and imposed inevitably and without dispute the obligations and responsibilities of leadership.  Dr. Pusey of course was a friend of great account, but he was as yet in the background, a venerated and rather awful person, from his position not mixing in the easy intercourse of common-room life, but to be consulted on emergencies.  Round Mr. Newman gathered, with a curious mixture of freedom, devotion, and awe—­for, with unlimited power of sympathy, he was exacting and even austere in his friendships—­the best men of his college, either Fellows—­R.  Wilberforce, Thomas Mozley, Frederic Rogers, J.F.  Christie; or old pupils—­Henry Wilberforce, R.F.  Wilson, William Froude, Robert Williams, S.F.  Wood, James Bliss, James Mozley; and in addition some outsiders—­Woodgate of St. John’s, Isaac Williams and Copeland, of his old College, Trinity.  These, members of his intimate circle, were bound to him not merely by enthusiastic admiration and confidence, but by a tenderness of affection, a mixture of the gratitude and reliance of discipleship with the warm love of friendship, of which one has to go back far for examples, and which has had nothing like it in our days at Oxford.  And Newman was making his mark as a writer.  The Arians, though an imperfect book, was one which, for originality and subtlety of thought, was something very unlike the usual theological writing of the day.  There was no doubt of his power, and his mind was brimming over with ideas on the great questions which were rising into view.  It was clear to all who know him that he could speak on them as no one else could.

Towards the end of 1834, and in the course of 1835, an event happened which had a great and decisive influence on the character and fortunes of the movement.  This was the accession to it of Dr. Pusey.  He had looked favourably on it from the first, partly from his friendship with Mr. Newman, partly from the workings of his own mind.  But he had nothing to do with the starting of it, except that he early contributed an elaborate paper on “Fasting.”  The Oxford branch of the movement, as distinguished from that which Mr. Palmer represented, consisted up to 1834 almost exclusively of junior men, personal friends of Mr. Newman, and most of them Oriel men.  Mr. Newman’s deep convictions, his fiery enthusiasm, had given the Tracts their first stamp and impress, and had sent them flying over the country among the clergy on his own responsibility.  They answered their purpose.  They led to widespread and sometimes deep searchings of heart; to some they seemed to speak forth what had been long dormant within them, what their minds had unconsciously and vaguely thought and longed for; to some they seemed a challenge pregnant with danger.  But still they were but an outburst of individual feeling and zeal, which, if nothing