mind,” he says himself (p. 68), “was too different from mine for us to remain long on one line.”  The course of events round him impelled him in the same direction, and furnished him with new comrades, on whom henceforth he was to act, and who were to react most powerfully on him.  The torrent of reform was beginning its full rush through the land; and its turbulent waters threatened not only to drown the old political landmarks of the Constitution, but also to sweep away the Church of the nation.  Abhorrence of these so-called liberal opinions was the electric current which bound together the several minds which speedily appeared as instituting and directing the great Oxford Church movement.  Not that it was in any sense the offspring of the old cry of “the Church in danger.”  The meaning of that alarm was the apprehension of danger to the emoluments or position of the Church as the established religion in the land.  From the very first the Oxford movement pointed more to the maintenance of the Church as a spiritual society, divinely incorporated to teach certain doctrines, and do certain acts which none other could do, than to the preservation of those temporal advantages which had been conferred by the State.  From the first there was a tendency to undervalue these external aids, which made the movement an object of suspicion to thorough Church-and-State men.  This suspicion was repaid by the members of the new school with a return of contempt.  They believed that in struggling for the temporal advantages of the Establishment, men had forgotten the essential characteristics of the Church, and had been led to barter their divine birthright for the mess of pottage which Acts of Parliament secured them.  Thus we find Dr. Newman remembering his early Oxford dislike of “the bigoted two-bottle orthodox.”  He records (p. 73) the characteristic mode in which on the appearance of the first symptoms of his “leaving the clientela” of Dr. Whately he was punished by that rough humorist.  “Whately was considerably annoyed at me; and he took a humorous revenge, of which he had given me due notice beforehand....  He asked a set of the least intellectual men in Oxford to dinner, and men most fond of port; he made me one of the party; placed me between Provost this and Principal that, and then asked me if I was proud of my friends” (p. 73).  It is easy to conceive how he liked them.  He had, indeed, though formerly a supporter of Catholic Emancipation, “acted with them in opposing Mr. Peel’s re-election in 1829, on ’simple academical grounds,’ because he thought that a great University ought not to be bullied even by a great Duke of Wellington” (p. 172); but he soon parted with his friends of “two-bottle orthodoxy,” and joined the gathering knot of men of an utterly different temper, who “disliked the Duke’s change of policy as dictated by liberalism” (p. 72).