thrown himself
into it in 1835, was Dr. Pusey. His position, his dignified office, his
learning, his solidity and seriousness of character, his high standard
of religious life, the charm of his charity, and the sweetness of his
temper naturally gave him the first place in the movement in Oxford and
the world. It came to be especially associated with him. Its enemies
fastened on it a nickname from his name, and this nickname, partly from
a greater smoothness of sound, partly from an odd suggestion of
something funny in it, came more into use than others; and the terms
_Puseismus, Puseisme, Puseista_ found their way into German
lecture-halls and Paris salons and remote convents and police offices in
Italy and Sicily; indeed, in the shape of [Greek: pouzeismos] it might
be lighted on in a Greek newspaper. Dr. Pusey was a person who commanded
the utmost interest and reverence; he was more in communication with the
great world outside than Oxford people generally, and lived much in
retirement from Oxford society; but to all interested in the movement he
was its representative and highest authority. He and Mr. Newman had the
fullest confidence in one another, though conscious at times of not
perfect agreement; yet each had a line of his own, and each of them was
apt to do things out of his own head. Dr. Pusey was accessible to all
who wished to see him; but he did not encourage visits which wasted
time. And the person who was pre-eminently, not only before their eyes,
but within their reach in the ordinary intercourse of man with man, was
Mr. Newman. Mr. Newman, who lived in College in the ordinary way of a
resident Fellow, met other university men, older or younger, on equal
terms. As time went on, a certain wonder and awe gathered round him.
People were a little afraid of him; but the fear was in themselves, not
created by any intentional stiffness or coldness on his part. He did not
try to draw men to him, he was no proselytiser; he shrank with fear and
repugnance from the character--it was an invasion of the privileges of
the heart.[61] But if men came to him, he was accessible; he allowed his
friends to bring their friends to him, and met them more than half-way.
He was impatient of mere idle worldliness, of conceit and impertinence,
of men who gave themselves airs; he was very impatient of pompous and
solemn emptiness. But he was very patient with those whom he believed to
sympathise with what was nearest his heart; no on