pinions. If A. B. says that this or that is a
development from what I have said, I cannot say Yes or No. It is
plausible, it _may_ be true. Of course the fact that the Roman Church
_has_ so developed and maintained, adds great weight to the
antecedent plausibility. I cannot assert that it is not true; but I
cannot, with that keen perception which some people have, appropriate
it. It is a nuisance to me to be _forced_ beyond what I can fairly
accept."

There was another source of the perplexity with which at this time I
was encompassed, and of the reserve and mysteriousness, of which it
gave me the credit. After Tract 90 the Protestant world would not let
me alone; they pursued me in the public journals to Littlemore.
Reports of all kinds were circulated about me. "Imprimis, why did I
go up to Littlemore at all? For no good purpose certainly; I dared
not tell why." Why, to be sure, it was hard that I should be obliged
to say to the Editors of newspapers that I went up there to say my
prayers; it was hard to have to tell the world in confidence, that I
had a certain doubt about the Anglican system, and could not at that
moment resolve it, or say what would come of it; it was hard to have
to confess that I had thought of giving up my living a year or two
before, and that this was a first step to it. It was hard to have
to plead, that, for what I knew, my doubts would vanish, if the
newspapers would be so good as to give me time and let me alone.
Who would ever dream of making the world his confidant? yet I was
considered insidious, sly, dishonest, if I would not open my heart
to the tender mercies of the world. But they persisted: "What was I
doing at Littlemore?" Doing there? have I not retreated from you?
have I not given up my position and my place? am I alone, of
Englishmen, not to have the privilege to go where I will, no
questions asked? am I alone to be followed about by jealous prying
eyes, who note down whether I go in at a back door or at the front,
and who the men are who happen to call on me in the afternoon?
Cowards! if I advanced one step, you would run away; it is not you
that I fear: "Di me terrent, et Jupiter hostis." It is because the
Bishops still go on charging against me, though I have quite given
up: it is that secret misgiving of heart which tells me that they do
well, for I have neither lot nor part with them: this it is which
weighs me down. I cannot walk into or out of my house, but curious
eyes