have preserved, during my whole life, its rights unviolated.

"A natural consequence of the character and temper of my mind was the intimacy I soon contracted with Dr. Whately, a distinguished leader of whatever liberal spirit existed at Oxford. This connection did not prevent my being joined, by affection, with two individuals of a very different tone of mind-Mr. Ogilvie, of Baliol, and Mr. Cotton, now D.D., and Provost of Worcester College. Their tone of mind and my own were very different, if not opposite; but our hearts were in unison, and this was enough for me. We have been separated for some years by the impassable gulph of Orthodoxy; but I feel my heart yearn towards them, especially towards Dr. Cotton, than whom I never knew a more benevolent, upright, and sincere man.

"So little sympathy with the governing party could not allow me to take root in the University. If my mind had been working in the direction of the Church, I might gradually have found favour and encouragement; but my thoughts pointed another way. I was truly at home with those who, though Orthodox enough to remain within the Church, were habitually struggling against the mental barriers by which she protects her power. It was therefore evident that I could not serve under the Church-andKing banners; and notwithstanding the politeness with which I was treated, (two or three Heads of Houses made the only exception,) it was clear that I

could never hope to receive encouragement as a resident Master.

"I had solemnly engaged with myself not to accept preferment in the Church; and the publications which rounded my petty income into a comfortable sufficiency had been sacrificed to my theological and academical studies, so that I could not but feel the

narrowness of my pecuniary means. Had I had supporters among the leading members of the University, it would have been easy to employ me in editing for the Clarendon Press, which is frequently the secondary employment of young men not particularly distinguished for their knowledge. But I was a foreigner, and not brought up at the University. These sources of jealousy (to which even Dr. Whately alludes in his friendly dedication to me of the first edition of his admirable work on Romanism) could not be easily stopped: the leading Members might be well inclined towards me, but unless I had been totally devoted to their service, they would not have favoured me at the risk of exciting dissatisfaction.

I continued in this kind of neutrality, till the contest about Sir Robert Peel took place in 1829. I was at that time in London, exerting myself in the difficult work of setting up a LONDON REVIEW, which totally failed of success. My first intention upon hearing of the approaching election, was not to vote at all. But a letter from Mr. (now Dr.) Pusey,* at that time one of the most liberal members of the

[* See vol. i. p. 453.]

University, decided me to give my vote to Sir Robert Peel. The fury of the No-Popery party against me knew no bounds. I suffered greatly in my mind; but satisfied that I was acting properly, I endured all with fortitude. One of the secondary reasons which moved me to appear at the Election, was the wish to assert my right to vote as a British subject, though born abroad. I have always been very jealous of a privilege, which if I had remained neutral, most people would have doubted. My right of voting was examined by the two lawyers, who acted as assessors at the Poll, and was found incontestable. In company with my friend, Mr. Senior, I went to Oxford. I found the place in the utmost excitement, and, as it might be fully expected, had to endure the insolence of one or two, the killing looks of many, and the coldness of former friends, who were for the NoPopery Party. In this party I found, to my great surprise, my dear friend Mr. Newman, of Oriel. As he had been one of the annual Petitioners to Parliament for Catholic Emancipation, his sudden union with the most violent bigots was inexplicable to me. That change was the first manifestation of the mental revolution, which has subsequently made him one of the leading persecutors of Dr. Hampden, and the most active and influential member of that association, called the Puseyite party, from which we have those very strange productions entitled Tracts for the Times. While stating these public facts, my heart feels a pang at the recollection of the affectionate and

mutual friendship between that excellent man and myself; a friendship which his principles of Orthodoxy could not allow to continue in regard to one, whom he now regards as inevitably doomed to eternal perdition. Such is the venomous character of Orthodoxy. What mischief must it create in a bad heart and narrow mind, when it can work so effectually for evil, in one of the most benevolent bosoms, and one of the ablest minds-in the amiable, the intellectual, the refined John Henry Newman!-Yes: that man repels me, at least declines and discourages all correspondence with me, at the moment when he shakes hands with persons of whose worldly and interested views, of whose dark and perfidious characters, he must be fully aware-only because they are ORTHO-DOX, and I am a HERETIC.

"Mr. Newman however continued on terms of intimacy with me after I had voted against his Candidate. That Mr. Cotton's friendship would not be diminished by my voting against his party, I was perfectly certain : indeed I know he said, when every one abused me, 'I am sure that only conscientious motives have decided Blanco White.' Valuing as I did Mr. Ogilvie, and knowing that he must have deeply reprobated my conduct at the election, I went to his rooms the day after I returned to reside at Oxford, having buried the still-born LONDON REVIEW. I told him I came to ascertain whether he was still my friend. He was cold at first, but when I had explained to him my motives, his affection

- returned undiminished. But my separation from the Church put an end to our connection, more effectually than death itself.

"I mention these particulars because they will suggest the state of my feelings during the remainder of my residence at Oxford, more effectually than any description. I still had friends, but the mass of the Senior Members of the University preserved a scowl which I could not well endure. My health grew worse, and when Dr. Whately left Oxford for his See of Dublin, I was so ill that I did not go out of my rooms for several months. But enough of external matters: let us come to the workings of my mind in regard to religious subjects during that period. I will try to describe them; but I must first remind you of some of the principles, which at all times have directed me.

"It has always been impossible for me to conceive that if God ever intended to supply the deficiencies of the laws of Nature, in regard to mankind, by means of his direct interference, he could have left that effort in a state of insufficiency for the attainment of its proposed end. When the general laws of the Universe make us suffer, when they make us feel either their unfitness for the attainment of what the constitution of our species seems to demand, or actually crush us as if we were of no account in the Universe, we may 'justify the ways of God to man,' by truly alleging that we judge of good and evil as if we were the centre of the Creation, which is a presumptuous supposition. But if we are to believe