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I.L.D., Q.C., F.R.A.S., 




Cclitf) a Portrait. 



L-on/Jp en I 

Uoggg 1 



In case this book should come to a second edition 
I shall be thankful for any further information about the 

E. B. D. 

33 Queen Anne Street, W. 

29 February 1868. 




Chapter I. 


Uneventful character of bishop Lonsdale’s life p. i. His letters 2. 
Religious parties 4. History of the See of Lichfield 6 (note). 
His birth and pedigree 7. His wife’s family 10. Precocity and 
early school days 10. Eton n. Cambridge 15. His doings 
there 15. Latin and Greek scholarship 17. Studies law 18. 
Ordained, and made Abp’s chaplain and Assistant Preacher at 
the Temple 19. Sermons there and at Cambridge 20. Canon 
of Lichfield 21. His brother Henry at. Fellow of Eton and 
Rector of Bloomsbury and Southfleet 2 2. Archbishop’s Options 
23. Preacher of Lincoln’s Inn 24. List of L. I. Preachers 25. 
Masters of the Temple 26. His writing of testimonials 28. 
Principal of King’s College HStidon 29. Defends Professor 
Maurice 31. Letter to Mr. Harvey 32. Elected Provost of 
Eton 34. Archdeacon of Middlesex 35. Bishop Blomfield 
and his church reforms 36. Offered the bishopric of Lichfield 
by Sir R. Peel 40. Unwillingly accepts it 43. Character of 
his episcopate 43. Letter of bishop Sumner 45. Letter to his 
wife 46. Note about his school days 46. 



Chapter II. 


Annotations on the Gospels 47. Commission on marriages of 
affinity 48. Arguments of bishops Blomfield and Philpotts 50. 
His opinion of ‘simony ’ 52. Cambridge University commission 
54. His legal judgment 54. Reconsecration of churches 55. 
Clergy Discipline Act 56. Ecclesiastical law books 57. Lich¬ 
field theological college 57. -Opposition to it 59. His deter¬ 
mination to uphold it 62. Letters about it 63, 64. His interest 
in education 65. His Cathedral Statutes 67. Nurse-training in¬ 
stitution 69. His impartiality and firmness 71. Opinions about 
patronage 74. Effect of a rule of his 75. Treatment of his 
own family 76. Visitation charges 77. Privy Council on edu¬ 
cation 77. Charge on Scepticism and Inspiration 79. His 
opinion of Popery 92. 

Chapter III. 


The bishop in Convocation 93. Bishops of Natal and Capetown 
94. Letters about infidelity 95. On translation of the Bible 
98. On clerical difficulties 100. On the Athanasian Creed 
in. His practice in church 113. Letter about S. P. G. 114. 
Mrs. Lonsdale’s death 117. His opinions about burial 117. 
A letter of condolence 118. His opinion, of high-churchism 
120. Address of his clergy, and his answer 123. Reopening 
of Lichfield Cathedral 125. Restoration of Eccleshall Church 
begun as a testimonial to him 125. 

' Contents. 


Chapter IV. 


His oratorical excellence 128. Power of his voice 129. His 
preaching 131. The refined style of writing 133. His con¬ 
firmations 134. Lichfield church extension 135. Additional 
bishoprics 137. Episcopal incomes 139. His style of living 
and hospitality 140. History of Eccleshall 142. His daily 
engagements 144. Letters 144, Facsimile of one 146. Mr. 
Norris’s testimony about him 147. Doxology of the Lord’s 
prayer 151. Warburton lectureship 151. Letter about 
S. P. C. K. tracts 156. Hymn books 157. Courtesy to dis¬ 
senters 160. His preference of jfdntlemen 163. His own man¬ 
ners 164. His readiness and accuracy 165. Dislike of obscure 
writing 166. His memory 166. His sincerity 169. Instances 
of his kindness 170. His last letter 173. His courage 174. 
Letters to his grandson 175. To his daughters 178. To Dr. 
Kennedy i8r. His conversation 182. Love of jokes 182 : 
of plays 185. His personal habits 186. His appearance 188. 

• Chapter V. 


Rumoured offers of translation 190. The two archbishoprics 191. 
Archbishop Sumner 193. Lord Palmerston’s bishops 195. 
First warning of his end 197. Lambeth conference of bishops 
198. Wolverhampton congress 200. His opening address 
there 201. His management of it 206. The Crosier 207. 
The Bible and Science 211. ^s two last sermons 217. 
Denstone school 218. His speeches at Stafford for it 221, 
226. His last hour, death and funeral 230. Sayings about 
him 232. Meeting of the diocese 233. Various memorials 
234. Happiness of his life and death 236. Dr. Kennedy’s 
recollections of him 239. Archdeacon Allen’s 242. His 
epitaph at Eccleshall 250: at King’s College London 251. 
Verses in memoriam 252. 




Three Sermons. 

I. On the necessity of faith in the divinity of 

Christ 255. 

II. On the parable of the unjust steward 274. 

III. On church music: his last sermon 291. 

Mr. Shilleto’s preface to the bishop’s verses 305. 

Cambridge prize poems: 

On the Death of Pitt 330. 

Verses at Eton: 

On The Suicide 307. 

The Fall of Cities 310. 

Life is a Dream (Greek Ana¬ 
creontics) 312. 

The passage of the Red Sea 
- 314. 

Magic of the Muse 322. 
Pleasure and Virtue 325. 
Sculpture 326. 

Paradise (Greek) 328. 

Vale to Eton 329. 

On the deliverance of Por¬ 
tugal 335. 

Prognostics of rain (translation) 

Invitation to birds (translation) 
343 - 

Chorus in Hecuba (translation) 
347 - 

Declamation at Eton on courage 
and prudence 350. 

Epitaph on the Rev. R. Wilkinson and his wife 355. 

Portrait of the Bishop 
Facsimile of his letter 

to face titlepage. 
„ P-146. 






B ishop Lonsdale’s peaceful life in a pro¬ 
vincial see offers no great scope to. a bio¬ 
grapher. All the history, public and private, and 
all the letters and sayings that are preserved,, of'a 
greater man, though not a greater bishop, Joseph 
Butler of Durham, the author of the ‘ Analogy,’ 
are comprised in a few pages. A determined 
biographer can doubtless make a life of any pre¬ 
scribed length of any man who lived long and 
had a large correspondence—or a small one. But 
I have no claim to that title; and I am afraid the 
readers of these pages will be rather disappointed 
with the fewness than the multitude of the 
bishop’s letters which appear, out of the 120,000 




which he must have written during his episcopate 

Not many of his letters have been sent to his 
family, in answer to the published request for any 
that might be deemed interesting; and not all 
that have been sent appear suitable for publica¬ 
tion. He seldom wrote on general topics, unless 
they were connected with his work; and he can 
hardly be said to have had any public life beyond 
his own diocese, though he had friends every¬ 
where, and there seems to have been no place in 
England where his character was not appreciated,* 
as we have learnt since his death. He never 
spoke more than a few words in Parliament, to 
the regret of those who knew how well he could 
speak; and seldom even in the clerical parliament 
which sits in the Jerusalem Chamber with no 
power of legislation ; and there only for the pur¬ 
pose of counselling moderation. 

Though he was tan ardent cultivator of litera¬ 
ture, a member of several literary clubs, a great 
and careful reader^in his younger days, as the 
margins of his books testify, a severer critic than 
is generally known, and the writer of a style un¬ 
surpassed for purity and elegance, weighing every 
word he wrote, or sanctioned, he has left no literary 
correspondence, nor any writings except his ser- 

Character of his life. 


mons and visitation charges, of which I shall have 
to speak hereafter.^ 

After he became bishop, it will be seen in some 
of the letters'which are printed, that he continu¬ 
ally regretted that he had scarcely any time to 
read, except in travelling; and much of that 
"reading too related to his daily work. His life 
and his greatness consisted, not in producing strik¬ 
ing effects here and there, and being glorified in 
newspaper paragraphs, but in doing those daily 
duties, individually small and common to all his 
brethren, on the whole as no one else had done 
them, and so as to convince all who saw him 
frequendy that he was far above ordinary men. 

I therefore undertake the duty of writing' this 
short account of his life with a consciousness that 
it must be disappointing; that it can neither 
satisfy those who knew him well, nor convey to 
those who did not a complete idea of what he 
was. I have undertaken it because his own family 
and some of his friends were pleased to desire that 
I should. And I cannot doujjj: that many persons 
will be glad to have some visible memorial, how-' 
ever imperfect, of ‘ this great prelate,’ ‘ the Best¬ 
loved bishop in the land,’ as he was truly called 
by the leading newspapers of the laity and the 
clergy, who was looked up to as a truly spiritual 

B 2 



father* by the people of three counties for well 
nigh a quarter of a century. 

Sons-in-law have less of one disqualification for 
biographers than sons, inasmuch as it is thought 
unbecoming for sons to Speak of any defects of 
their father; and however impartial they may be, 
their picture is sure to be assumed to be a partial 
one. Of course I have the benefit of such infor¬ 
mation as they can add to my own. Joint author¬ 
ship is intolerable, and I take the full responsi¬ 
bility of telling the story of my father-in-law’s life 
and opinions in my own way. My only special 
qualification for it is that of having enjoyed the 
. most intimate friendship with him ever since I was 
old enough to judge of men’s characters.. Before 
I became .one of his family I had beefi attracted 
to him as I never was to-any other man; but this 
qualification would be shared with me by many. 
Afterwards the intimacy naturally became closer, 

' and whenever he came to London for some years 
past he stayed either with or near us. Nor is it a 
slight advantage tojbe able to say that there is no 
point of importance on which I am tempted, to 
keef» back his opinions by any disagreement of 
my own with them. 

The two opposite religious parties, whom it is 
necessary to designate by the received names of 

Religious parties. 


* high church ’ -or * tractarian ’ or ( ritualistic,’ and 
‘ low 'church ’ or * ‘ evangelical ’ or ‘calvinistic,’ 
know full well that he had no sympathy with so 
much of their theology as is peculiar to them¬ 
selves. Occasionally he had to express his dissent 
,,from them both by emphatic words and acts; 
which it is the duty of his biographer to record; 
and to show that he was not the ‘colourless,’ 
indifferent man, with no definite opinions of his 
own, which persons of such*absolute impartiality 
are generally assumed to be. Each party will 
think I am thereby damaging his character. But 
the lhrge and increasing number of those who 
disclaim the views of both of them will perhaps 
think otherwise, and be content to admire the 
liberality and charity with which a man of firm 
opinions could sympathise and act with and sup¬ 
port those whose peculiarities he disliked. 

Great as my own admiration of him was, I am 
not so foolish as to endeavour to make him out to 
have been perfect. It is far better for his fame 
that his slight defects shoulchbe fairly exhibited, 
than left to be supplied by every one according to 
his own imagination. For instance, I have heard 
him .called by those who knew him very little, 
weak, and easy to influence. Never was a de¬ 
scription wider of the mark; and yet he had a 


The See of Lichfield. 

much smaller defect, which, together with his 
wonderful kindness and goodnature, left people 
who did not understand him to guess that he 
was weak and easy to move—until they tried. 
But I shall have more to say of that hereafter. 

John Lonsdalb, the 89th bishop of the diocese 
which resumed its old name of Lichfield in 1837,* 

* It was the see of Mercia from 656 to 669: then Lichfield till 
1075, when it was transferred to Chester for 26 years; but the 
present bishopric of Chester only dates from 1541. Then it 
became Coventry till 1193, and then C. and L. or L. and C. as the 
bishops pleased, and sometimes both appear in the same document, 
and the two chapters elected jointly, until the Reformation, when 
Coventry cathedral (which had three spires like Lichfield and was 
grander) was destroyed, in spite of the entreaties of the bishop, 
‘ Roland (Lee) Cov. et Lich.’ Then it was called L. and C. tiU the 
first year of bishop Samuel Butler, when the archdeaconry of C. 
was transferred to Worcester, and that name dropped. One of the 
Saxon bishops, Eadulf, was mad# archbishop of Lichfield. (See 
Dugdale, and Shaw’s History of Staffordshire.) 

The ‘ Lichfield diocesan Calendar ’ and some other catalogues .give 
the dates of consecration of the bishops anywhere, and not the dates 
of their coming to Lichfield, as all readers assume them to be until 
they have occasion to look into the matter for themselves. Thus 
Bishop Bowstead was translated in 1839 from Sodor and Man, Ryder 
from Gloucester in 1824, Egerton from Bangor in i768,Smallbrooke 
from St. David’s in 1730, Hough from Oxford in 1699, Lloyd (who 
rebuilt Eccleshall Castle) from St. Asaph in 1692, and so on: all 
which dates are later than those in the calendar. In other catalogues 
of bishops, in 1 Haydn's Book of Dignities ’ and ‘ Beatson’s Index,’ 
Chad, the first bishop of Lichfield, is said to have been translated 
to York, whereas he came from York, of which he was bishop 
and not archbishop. And bishop Hurd is called Master of the 
Temple, instead of Preacher of Lincoln’s Inn. 

Bishop Lonsdale s birth. 


was born on the 17th of January 1788, ‘about 
1 o’clock in the morning,’ says his mother’s book 
of family events, at a place called Newmillerdam 
near Wakefield. No man, or his family, is yet 
indifferent to the fact that he was born a gentle¬ 
man, however much we respect those, very few, 
who acquire that undefinable character for them¬ 
selves, by education and natural good sense and 
modesty. I suppose most people have a standard 
of their own on that point; but if all who knew 
this bishop had to declare who was the most 
thoroughly a gentleman ‘they had ever known, I 
have no doubt that he would have a large ma¬ 
jority of votes. 

Not that he had any great pedigree to boast of, 
so far as he knew, or would have thought better 
of himself if he had. *He was the eldest son of 
the Reverend John Lonsdale, of Trinity College, 
Cambridge, who held the vicarage (not the 
rectory which there is also) of Darfield, in the 
patronage of that college, with the perpetual 
curacy of Chapelthofpe neat Wakefield, where 
Newmillerdam is. He was the son of another 
John Lonsdale, a gentleman of independent 
means at Masham, farther north ; and no doubt 
they came originally from the banks of the Lune, 
from which the town of Kirby Lonsdale derives 


His father and mother . 

its euphonious name. John Lonsdale the second 
was third ‘senior optime’ in 1761, and seems, 
from some of his letters to his wife about his two 
sons, and especially ‘Jack,’ to have been some¬ 
thing of a scholar. Those letters, both in their 
composition, and in his evident humility and 
patience, and his warm affection for all his 
family, show a considerable likeness to his more 
distinguished son. 

He married when he was 48 Elizabeth Steer, an 
heiress in a small way of a very old Yorkshire 
family named Gylby, from whom that name 
descended to the bishop’s only brother and to 
both his sons. . One of the Gylbys was governor 
of Hull, and received from Charles II. a long 
lease of Sunk Island in the Humber, which re¬ 
mained in the Lonsdale family till about 35 years 
ago, when that mode of leasing the Crown property 
was abandoned. The second John Lonsdale had 
to spend six weary months in London in 1799, 
waiting upon and for Treasury officials for the 
renewal of the leajg, not daring to leave them. 
Then it was that he wrote those letters to his wife, 
generally containing something about ‘Jack,’ 
whom he took to Eton in the middle of that 
time, and saying that even such 'a small affair as 
the granting of that lease depended finally on 

Mr. Pitt and Sunk Island. 


Mr. Pitt, and complaining grievously of the 
laziness and indifference of the minor officials, and 
of a suspected opposition to his interests in favour 
of sopiebody else. It is singular that the only 
angry expression I have read in any of the bishop’s 
letters is about the behaviour of some other small 
( officials, who, he said, ‘ thought fit to ape the im- 
‘ portance of their superiors.’ But that was long 
ago, and of course it never happens now. 

Mr. Lonsdale died in 1807 at the age of 70, in 
his son’s first year at Cambridge. His wife sur¬ 
vived him io years and lived to 77, a woman 
remarkable for her memory and understanding, 
which her husband evidently appreciated, con¬ 
sulting her all through the business of Sunk 
Island. Her mother had lived to 80, and the 
first John Lonsdale to 83, though he died 4 years 
before his grandson the bishop was born. So he 
was well descended for longevity.* 

From Masham also came the late John 

* A curious fatality has attended the name of Mary in his family. 
His grandmother Mary Lonsdale died & her son’s birth when she 
. was 20. Her only daughter Mary 1 died young,’ according to Mrs. 
Lonsdale’s book. She herself had two successive daughters of that 
name, who died, one an infant, the other at 17, the only sister 
whom the bishop knew. His brother’s daughter Mary died not 
much older; and the only grandchild that he lost was the only 
one of that name, by which he regretted that she had been christened 
as soon as he was told of it. 


His wife's family. 

Bolland, M.P., a great London hop-merchant, 
who dwelt at Clapham, and used. to take care 
of our ‘ Jack ’ in his journeys through Lon¬ 
don to Eton, and had six beautiful and clever 
daughters, of whom the fifth, Sophia, married the 
future bishop on the 25th of November 1815. 
Another married her cousin Baron Bolland, and 
the youngest was the wife of Sir William Reid, 
K.C.B., the investigator of the law of stormsj 
and the wise and benevolent governor of several 
colonies, and the manager, with absolute power, 
of the Great Exhibition of 1851. Of all his five 
quasi brothers-in-law the bish*op was the most 
attached to him, as a man of truly noble character. 

It seems he was a precocious boy. His mother 
used to tell how an old gentleman, who heard 
him read a Psalm when he was three years 
old, said, ‘he reads better than his father.’ A 
piece of very good writing of his has been kept, 
with the ‘date of March 1794 upon it, when he 
was only six. And in that year he went to a 
grammar school o^some celebrity at Heath near 
Halifax, of which the Rev. Robert Wilkinson 
was head-master for no less than fifty years, as is 
testified in the Latin epitaph to him and his wife 
in Halifax parish church, which was written by 
the bishop in 1840 (see p. 355> and note p. 46). 

His character at Eton. 


He was sent to Eton at eleven in April 1799, 
a scholar above liis years. But as he was going 
into college he was placed in the ‘ middle remove 
fourth form,’ according to his age and not his 
learning, by an absurd rule which prevailed then 
and long after, and which ruined many a boy by 
, /enabling him to be idle. He tvas talking to me 
about this very thing a fortnight before he died. 
Mr. Plumptre his tutor (after Mr. Briggs his 
first tutor became a fellow), who died at a great 
age not long ago, said once to his eldest son, 
* Sir, your father was a poet in the fourth form.’ 
And Dr. Goodall, the head-master when he left, 
wrote to his father commending both his industry 
and ability, and adding, ‘his judgment is far 
above his yearsand saying that those qualities 
led him,,to predict that he would succeed in any 
line of life which he might follow. 

No prediction was ever more fully verified; 
for he did succeed in everything he put his 
hand to. Whatever he found to do he/did it 
with his might,’ and his migjjt was such that he 
not only did it well, but generally better than 
every one else. We shall see that Sir Robert 
Peel nearly forty years afterwards offered him the 
bishopric of his own diocese, expressly on account 
of his reputation for the same qualities for which 


His scholarship at Eton. 

his old schoolmaster had pronounced him con¬ 
spicuous. No man ever owed less of his ad¬ 
vancement to what is commonly called luck, or 
to that species of conjuring which contrives to 
persuade the dispensers of promotion that those 
who have done nothing well anywhere are the 
proper objects for promotion through a long, 
series of dignities, until they suddenly vanish and 
come to an end as mere names in a catalogue, or 
something worse. 

Dr. Goodall is also reported to have been asked 
in his old age who was the best scholar he had 
ever had at Eton, and to have answered after 
some deliberation, ‘Lonsdale.’ I do not say the 
best that Eton ever had; for without going 
farther back Dr. Goodall would certainly re¬ 
member that Porson was a contemporary there of 
his own. The bishop maintained to the last the 
supremacy of Eton over all other schools with 
amusing pertinacity. Even when rejoicing over 
one of his* grandsons being elected at Winchester 
he added, * I wish it had been Eton.’ * The year 
before he died his wish was gratified by another 
grandson being elected into that magnificent 
foundation second out of 70 candidates. And he 
had before seen his own eldest son carry off the 
great prize of the school, the Newcastle scholar- 

His school expenses. 


ship; for which both father and son were often 

In his time it appears that the holidays began, 
as now, at the end of July, but ended on the 
i st of September, three or four weeks sooner 
than they do now.. «His mother kept a book of 
accounts of all his school expenses, both at Heath 
and Eton, and sums them up thus: £ total ex¬ 
penses at Heath for 4^ years 244/.,’ or 54/. a-year 
on the average; and - '.8 years at Eton 1407/.; 
may be averaged at 145/; a-year, including 
clothes, .journeys &c.’ He was a year and a 
quarter an oppidan; but in those days, and long 
after, the collegers’ expenses were not much less 
than the oppidans’; for they fvere (one can only 
say) defrauded of many of the benefits intended 
for them by the founder, and even by special 
benefactors besides; but all that is materially 
altered now. In my time there we used to look 
down on s ‘ College,’ which was never full, and its 
reputation had grievously declined since the days 
of Lonsdale, Patteson, and Rennell. Now, the 
competition for it is what iTiave indicated by 
the number of. candidates . for a few vacancies, 
and its success is testified yearly by the New¬ 
castle scholarship and the Cambridge Triposes. 

Far be it from me therefore to say that the 


His interest in public schools . 

bishop’s partiality was misplaced. And he re¬ 
joiced in the prosperity of all schools. He was a 
frequent visitor at the Harrow speeches-, under 
Dr. Vaughan and Dr. Montagu Butler; and he 
took a warm interest in the rapid rise of Hailey- 
bury, in its new form, under .another son of his 
old friend Dr. Butler, where another of his grand¬ 
sons got a scholarship. The relations between 
him and the head-master through nearly all his 
time of the celebrated school of his own diocese 
will be testified by the letter from Dr. Kennedy 
which will be seen at p. 239, and by several of the 
bishop’s letters to him. But he could patiently 
hear any school but one found fault with. The 
Rev. J. P. Norri% Canon of Bristol, who was 
Inspector of schools in part of his diocese and 
often stayed at Eccleshall, writes, in some notes 
which I shall refer to again, ‘ Two things only ever 
‘ made him -angry within my hearing: one was an 
‘ attack on Eton; the other was something said 
‘ disparagingly of the late Sir Robert Peel.’* 

* The remark will of«>urse be made that he owed his bishopric 
to Sir Robert Peel; and certainly gratitude was the last motive that 
he would disavow, either by his words or actions. But his high 
opinion of that minister was formed before his promotion. Peel’s 
striking qualities were exactly those which he admired, without the 
least regard to the mere battle of politics between one party and 
another, for which he cared nothing. But he cared a great deal for 

His success at Cambridge. 


He left Eton for King’s in December 1806; 
and there he got most of the prizes which were 
open to the men of that college; for the Chan¬ 
cellor’s medals were not, because the Mathe¬ 
matical Tripos was not; and in fact they "got 
their degrees without any University examination 
until the time of the present Provost; and the 
Classical Tripos did not exist till 1824. That 
also for a long time had to be entered through 
the other: no King’s man appears in it till 1853. 
He got the Browne’s medal for Latin Odes in 
1807 and 1809 ; and in the ,\atter year was elected 
University Scholar. It 1 was in that examination, 
and not in the leisure _ of his own room,' that he 
wrote the famous Alcaic translation from the 
‘ Hecuba,’ which has been several times reprinted. 
All these are included in the verses in this volume, 
which are edited by his eldest son, in consultation 
with the Rev. R. Shilleto of Cambridge. 

Persons still alive remember that when the can¬ 
didates sent their * Latin letters ’ to the Examiners, 
declaring their intention to sit for the scholarship, 

wisdom and honesty and liberality (not * liberalism *) and industry 
and patriotism and self-sacrifice; and he hated selfishness and 
trickery, and thoroughly appreciated the distinction between those 
who consciously sacrifice themselves by at last adopting the mea¬ 
sures they have opposed, as Peel did twice, and those who outbid 
their opponents merely for their own advantage. 

16 His career at Cambridge. 

. r 

it was said that Lonsdale’s letter alone proved 
him to be the scholar of the University. It has 
been said both then and since that no such Latin 
as his had been written since the Augustan age. 
His chief competitor was Thomas Rennell of his 
own college, of whom he afterwards wrote a short 
and beautiful memoir on his premature death as 
Vicar of Kensington in 1824; and (as is believed) 
his epitaph in Salisbury Cathedral of which he was 
a prebendary. 

Though the King’s men had no mathematical 
examinations then, we found two manuscript 
books -of .mathematics in the bishop’s hand, of 
deductions from Euclid and trigonometry. Many 
persons will be surprised to learn that this old 
Fellow of King’s, known to the world only as 
a scholar, once knew how to calculate the height 
of an unapproachable tower. But it must be 
confessed that he had singularly little taste for. 
physical science; counterbalanced or aggravated 
(as the reader may prefer) by a still more active 
distaste for metaphysics, which' extended to all 
unpractical refinements of theology. 

But he was much too wise a man to depreciate 
science because he had no taste - for it himself. 
Not that he gave much countenance to the pro¬ 
posals for teaching boys what is called * science ’ 

Latin and Greek scholarship. 


at schools, instead of educating their minds by 
the old methods, nor did he look with favour 
on the idea of supplanting Latin and Greek 
by modern languages. These things have no 
doubt, to use a phrase of the day, a ‘ greater com- 
* mercial value ’ than Latin and Greek; and there¬ 
fore they are sure enough to be added. Where 
‘commercial value’ is on one side of the scale it 
requires little help now to make it preponderate. 
The late Lord Cockburn, the Scotch judge, was 
all his life an active reformer and friend of the first 
promoters of the ‘useful knowledge‘movement, 

1 and therefore not at all likely to be swayed by 
. antiquated prejudices against the experience of a 
long life. Perhaps the bishop would' not have 
expressed himself quite as strongly as the judge, 
but substantially he had come to the same con¬ 
clusion as,Lord Cockburn states in his ‘Life and 
Recollections: ’— 

‘My first class was for more of that weary Latin : 
an excellent thing, if it had been got, For all I have 
seen, and all I felt even then, ha^g satisfied me that 
there is no solid and, graceful foundation for boys’ 
minds like classical learning grammatically acquired ; 
and that all the modern substitutes, of what is called 
‘useful knowledge,’ breed little beyond conceit, vul¬ 
garity, and general ignorance.’ 


The bishop a law student. 


Mr. Lonsdale took his B.A. degree in January 
1811, having become a fellow of King’s as an 
undergraduate in 1809, according to the custom 
of that college. There began his friendship, 
which was .only ended by death, with that emi¬ 
nent judge and admirable man, of simplicity and 
wisdom and benevolence like his' own, the late 
Sir John Patteson, who was* University Scholar 
the year after him. Our bishop himself began to 
read for the bar, like some other distinguished 
ecclesiastics, being admitted at Lincoln’s Inn in 
December 1811; and he lived in Stone Buildings 
for a time. But he found law less suited to his 
.taste than his old studies, and divinity; and he 
soon resolved to go into Orders. 

Though no one can regret the change, he had 
great qualifications for a lawyer: far more ora¬ 
torical power than his friend Patteson, and equally 
great logical capacity, • a considerable love of 
argument, notwithstanding his extreme aversion 
to personal controversy, and • an accuracy and 
comprehensiveness of mind, which, with his great 
industry and patience, could hardly have failed to 
make him a judge of the highest order. Indeed 
after he became a bishop he was considered, 
though not the, boldest or the fondest of law, 
yet the safest and best lawyer among his brethren; 

Assistant preacher at the Temple. 


and he constantly helped his clergy with legal 
advice, which there is no reason to believe was 
ever wrong. I shall have to give some instances 
of the soundness of his legal judgment hereafter. 

He returned to King’s apparently in 1814, 
and was tutor of the college till he vacated his 
fellowship by marriage in November 1815; 
foaving been just before ordained deacon at Wells 
on the 14th of September, and priest at Salisbury 
only three weeks later, viz: on the 14th of Oc¬ 
tober, on his fellowship as a title. He says in 
one of his letters at that timetfhat he was looking 
out for a curacy; but he never was a curate; for 
soon after his ordination he was appointed chap¬ 
lain to Archbishop Sutton, who had the merit of 
promoting learned men; and he in a manner 
bequeathed him to his successor in 1828. He 
was also .appointed in 1816 Assistant (or out-of¬ 
term) Preacher at the Temple, by Dean Rennell 
the Master, the father of his friend' Thomas 
Rennell: two remarkable compliments to be 
paid to a man just ordained. Jhere he preached 
the first sermon of the few that he ever printed, 
on the death of Queen Charlotte in 1818. It is 
stated to be published ‘ by desire of persons <?f 
eminent station and high authority,’ and it is 
much above the usual standard of young men’s 

c 2 


Christian Advocate at Cambridge. 

sermons, and is remarkable for the felicity of its 
allusions to the events of the time, in which I 
think he excelled all other preachers. 

In 1820 and 1821 he appears to have been 
again engaged as tutor of King’s, living out of 
college as a married man, but still coming up to 
London to preach at the Temple. And in those 
years he preached and published two courses of 
sermons, as Select Preacher at St. Mary’s, ‘On 
‘some popular objections to Christianity,’ and 
* On the testimonies of nature, reason, and reve- 
‘ lation respecting a future judgment.’ The only 
other sermons that he could be prevailed on to 
publish were on the consecration of Bishop Blom- 
field in 1824, and of Bishop Percy in 1827. 
They were both highly commended at the time. 
One of two others preached for some of the 
Religious Societies were published by them. But 
we shall find that he once managed to evade 
even their usual custom in this respect. 

He was also made Christian Advocate of the 
University in 182^,', succeeding his friend Rennell 
in that office, but resigned it very soon. For in 
that same year he received the rectory of Mers- 
ham in Kent, the first of a long series of prefer¬ 
ments, but not pluralities, from his two arch¬ 
bishops. But his duties as chaplain at Lambeth 

Canon of Lichfield. 


required him to be so often there that he kept 
a house in Westminster, one in Queen Square, 
which is now occupied (having been enlarged) 
by the bishop of Bath and Wells, and previously 
another. His wife used to say that when they 
got to Mersham she«supposed they were settled 
there for life, little anticipating the migrations 
they were to go through. He found it necessary 
to give up Mersham in 1827, and accepted a 
prebendal stall at Lincoln, which of course had 
no parochial duty. He exchanged that (not in 
the legal sense of the word) in.May 1828 for the 
first canonry or precentorship of Lichfield; and 
that again in 1831 fora (non-residentiary) prebend 
of St. Paul’s, which he held till he was bishop. 

As canon of Lichfield he had the opportunity 
of making his brother Henry vicar of St. Mary’s, 
the principal church of that city. Of him it was 
said by somebody, who it is to be hoped ex¬ 
aggerated the previous condition of the place, 
that ‘Henry Lonsdale introduced Christianity 
into Lichfield.’ Certain it is* that though he 
had not the intellectual powers ar\d cultivation of 
his brother, for whom he had a profound venera¬ 
tion, yet his strong sense, his munificence, his 
truly Christian spirit, and the energy and zeal 
which triumphed over the paralysis of his limbs 


Fellow ofJiton. 

for many of the last years of his life, made him 
worthy of all that is said of him by his brother in 
his epitaph engraved on the tower of that church, 
which his people rebuilt over his grave. It is a 
singular' coincidence that the sam^ living has 
lately, after two intermediate incumbencies, fallen 
to the bishop’s second son, who was known to the 
clergy of England for many years as the able and 
judicious secretary of the National Society, and 
was made by his father a canon of Lichfield. 

In 1827 Mr. Lonsdale was elected a fellow of 
Eton, the last who has not previously been a 
master in the school. But he resigned that also 
in 1828, on being presented to the rectory of St. 
George’s Bloomsbury by Lord Lyndhurst, though 
he was not bound to do so, and the fellows usu¬ 
ally hold livings, and though .the parsonage of 
Bloomsbury then was so unfit for his children 
to live in that he took another house for them* in 
the Eton Playing Fields, called the Wharf, since 
swept away. If any one supposes that he re¬ 
ceived this living from the Chancellor as a reward 
for any political support, he is mistaken; and 
may remember that a celebrated political divine, 
who had been writing and joking against Lord 
Lyndhurst’s party all his life, tells us that he owed 
to that great man his first real promotion, a 

Rector of Bloomsbury and Southjleet. 23 

canonry of Bristol. Bishop Lonsdale was no 
politician, though undoubtedly he was not much, 
disposed to ‘ meddle with them who are given to 
change,’ by whatever name they might be called. 
He used to laugh at some of his brethren, who 
notoriously owed their seats to political con¬ 
nexion, hurrying down to the House of Lords 
because they had received notes from the 
Treasury: no ‘Treasury notes’ from either side 
came to him. 

In 1834 he gave up Bloomsbury, to the great 
regret of the parishioners, among whom were 
then many of the lawyers; and we shall see that 
they soon regained their connection with him. 
For a time he had no clerical duty and lived in 
Regent’s Park. But in 1836 Archbishop Howley, 
to whom he' was still chaplain, gave him the 
rectory of Southfleet near Gravesend. This and 
his* three successive canonries were * Options,’ or 
assignments to the Archbishop of one presentation 
to some piece of episcopal patronage which used 
to be executed by each bishops on his consecra¬ 
tion. I do not know that the story of their 
extinction has been ever told. Indeed some 
modern ecclesiastical law books speak of them as 
still existing; and also tell us that some English 
bishoprics require no election by the Chapter. 


A rchbishops\ Options. 

In the cathedral reform Act of 1840 a clause 
was inserted, in consequence of the alleged doings 
of the late dean Cockburn of York, to prohibit 
‘ any sale or assignment of patronage ’ by eccle¬ 
siastics, as such. The word ‘assignment’ was 
only introduced to meet the difficulty of proving 
that any money had been paid. But when the 
present bishop of Oxford was asked to assign an 
option on his consecration, he (rightly enough) 
objected that it had been made illegal. The 
bishops offered to restore them by legislation, but 
archbishop Howley not only declined, but re¬ 
turned to his suffragans all the options which he 
had not exercised. We found our bishop’s, the 
last which had been given, among his papers. 
One archbishop’s options were actually sold by 
auction on his death; but they died with the 
bishop who had given them. 

In January 1836 Mr. Lonsdale was elected ,*all 
but unanimously, Preacher of Lincoln’s Inn ; a 
post which, though belonging to a private chapel, 
has oftener led tp promotion from the Crown 
than probably any other in the kingdom, but is a 
fatal one for a man who is found to have been 
placed in that pulpit by mistake. As a Bencher 
of that Society I have the satisfaction of recording 
that, dropping only three names, our Preachers 

Preachers of Lincolns Inn. 

2 5 

of the last 120 years have been, Warburton 
Bishop of Gloucester; Hurd of Lichfield and 
Coventry, who refused Canterbury; Cyril Jack- 
son, Dean of Christchurch ; and his brother Wil¬ 
liam, Bishop of Oxford; Van Mildert of Durham, 
Lloyd of Oxford, Heber of Calcutta, Maltby of 
Durham, and John Lonsdale: the two last have 
been the present Archbishop of York, and F. C. 
Cook, the editor, under the archbishop, of the 
new commentary on the Bible, and Canon of 
Exeter by royal appointment. Farther back we 
had Archbishops Usher, Tillotson and Herring, 
Gastrell Bishop of Chester, Reynolds of Norwich, 
Richard Field, John Preston, to whom Charles I. 
offered the Great Seal; and Dr. Donne, Dean of 
St. Paul’s, who preached at the consecration of 
the Chapel on Ascension Day 1623, though he 
had been then succeeded by Preston. 

-While our bishop was Preacher of Lincoln’s 
Inn he was asked to allow a course of his ser¬ 
mons on the Lord’s Prayer to be published at 
the cost of the Society. But his usual diffidence 
about the value of his own writings, and a wish 
to make them more perfect, led him to postpone 
the publication; and when he became bishop it 
was abandoned. We had hoped to print them 
here, but the publisher’s experience is unfavour- 


Masters of the Temple . 

able to the printing of more than a few sermons, 
as specimens of the Bishop’s style of preaching. 

As his first clerical duty was that of preaching . 
in the Temple Church, and. he told his old 
Cambridge friend the present Master that the 
Mastership of'the Temple had been the summit 
of his ambition, I may fitly add a word about 
the holders of that office. They have been ap¬ 
pointed by the Crown since the abolition of the • 
monastery there, and are designated in their 
patent, ‘Master* and. Rector of the Temple 
Church.’ For a century after, the great name of 
Richard Hooker, who'was Master from 1585 to 
1591, there 'is none of consequence, except 
Browning' the ejected Bishop of Exeter, and his 
successor Gauden, the real author ■ of Icon Ba- , 
silicti, who were, apparently only ‘Preachers’ for 
a year each, in the days of the Puritans, 1658 and 
1659. The two Sherlocks, father and son. Dean 
of St. Paul’s, and Bishop of London, were Masters 
for 70 years from 1684; then, after some insigni¬ 
ficant names, came Thurlow 1 , Bishop of Durham, 
the Chancellor’s brother; Pearce, Dean of Ely; 
Rennell, of Winchester; and Christopher Benson, 
one of the most celebrated preachers of his day, 
now a Canon of Worcester, who resigned in 1845 
soon after the restoration of the church, and was 

The bishop and the lawyers. 

2 7 

succeeded by Thomas Robinson, ex-Archdeacon of 
Madras, and now Canon of Rochester. There is 
one instance of a' person, viz. the. Rev. George 
Watts in 1771, becoming Master of the Temple 
after he ‘had resigned the Preachership of Lin¬ 
coln’s Inn for bad health. He only lived at the 
Temple for a year, and is buried in the 'Church 
there; but he is 'not otherwise among the cele¬ 
brities of either House. 

Bishop Lonsdale was fend of the company of 
the lawyers, and' his venerable face was often seen 
among the Benchers in the Hall of Lincoln’s Inn, 
where he had a standing invitation. He had 
many friends among the Judges, but most of 
them are gone before him. A few months ago 
he lamented the loss of the excellent and amiable 
Lord Justice Turner; and not long before, of 
Sir James Knight Bruce his colleague, with whom 
the bishop used to enjoy literary discussions after 
dinner. Lord Kingsdown, another bencher of 
Lincoln’s Inn, and one of the first of judges, died 
a few days before the bishop. , 

There was no one whose recommendation of 
any candidate for our clerical offices had so much 
weight as his: and indeed not vrtth the lawyers 
only, but with electors to clerical or scholastic 
offices everywhere. I have known several in- 


The bishop's testimonials. 

stances myself, and therefore there must be many 
more, where electors have at once decided in 
favour of‘the Bishop of Lichfield’s man;’ some¬ 
times even giving more weight to his name 
attached to an ordinary testimonial than he 
intended it to carry. When he did mean to 
give a real recommendation he could give one 
in a few words which put to shame the laboured 
panegyrics of other men. I suppose a better 
than this was never written: to appreciate it fully 
it must be understood that for social purposes 
the preacher is one of the benchers:— 

‘The Rev. F. C. Cook is, I understand, a candi¬ 
date for the preachership of Lincoln’s Inn. I have 
no hesitation in expressing my persuasion that he 
is eminently qualified for the office, as a man of 
ability and learning, a theologian, a preacher, and a 

‘ J. Lichfield.’ 

I pass on to another stage of his life. Besides 
being always an active member of the old re¬ 
ligious Societies, such as the National, S.P.G., 
S.P.C.K., and one of the founders of the ‘ In¬ 
corporated Society for building Churches,’ he 
had joined Dr. D’Oyly and others in founding 
King’s College London, which was incorporated 

King's College London. 


by Royal Charter in August. 1829, for the pur¬ 
pose of teaching ‘ various branches of literature 
‘ and science, and also the doctrines and duties of 
‘ Christianity as the same are inculcated by the 
‘Church of England.’ He lived to be the last 
original member of the Council, as he said' in 
presiding at the annual meeting of 1867. In 
1838, when’Hugh James Rose the Principal 
fell ill, he was requested to act in his place, 
and when Mr. Rose died the next January, 
he became actual Principal and took up his 
abode in the college, near Somerset House. 
He had been asked to be the first Principal,, 
but declined then; and Bishop' Otter was the 
first. He says in a letter written from K.C.L. 
30 Jan. i 839, to his friend Mr. Harvey, the 
Rector of Hornsey,— 

‘The unanimous and cordial expressions of the 
council of this college, and the advice of friends in 
whom I could not but place confidence, have weighed 
with me much in my determination, notwithstanding 
my misgivings, to accept the office of Principal. It 
may be that I have determined unwisely. All I can 
say is that it shall be my daily endeavour and prayer 
to discharge my duties here faithfully.’ 

Besides managing the college, the Principal 


Principal of King's College . 

lectures in theology. The MSS* of a good many 
of his lectures have been found r but they are in¬ 
complete, and as far as we can judge at present, 
not suitable for publication. Under his wise arid 
able rule the College flourished exceedingly. 
That valuable offshoot from it, the Hospital, was 
chiefly due to him: which is now one of the 
largest as well as the most central in London; and 
it has had an unusual number of distinguished 
physicians and surgeons on its staff for the time 
it has existed. It Still however has to maintain 
an annual struggle for existence against the want 
of a permanent endowment or larger annual sub¬ 

Some special recollections of his King’s College 
days will be found in Archdeacon Allen’s letter at 
p. 242,. He said on leaving it, and I do not know 
that subsequent experience altered his conclusion, 
that those days had been the happiest of his life. 
His memory is still affectionately cherished by 
those who were there with him and under him 
(see p. 169). A tablet in memory of him is to 
be placed on the^wall of the chapel (see p. 251). 
He did his best, as a member of the council, to 
save the College from the discredit of ejecting 
Mr. Maurice from his two professorships at the 
instigation of the Principal and the Record news- 

Removal of Professor Maurice. 


paper. Once he prevailed, against bishop Blom- 
field, no mean antagonist, in 1851. The second 
time, in 1853, by an unlucky accident he never , 
received the notice of the meeting. But he read 
all the correspondence on the subject, and 
strongly disapproved of what was done. He did 
not agree with Mr. Maurice’s peculiar views 
about the meaning of the word ‘ eternity,’ which 
Dr. Jelf and bishop Blomfield and a majority of 
the council had no hesitation in condemning as 
heretical, but he considefed that there was no 
authority for such a condemnation; and the 
supreme tribunal in such matters has now de¬ 
cided that *he was, as usual, right. His feeling 
about that transaction cannot be better expressed 
than in the words of one of the tnost learned 
and sagacious of his brethren, so manifestly 
referring to it that it was needless to supply the 

‘Where the constitution of a college invests the 
governing body with despotic authority, even the pub¬ 
lication of a metaphysical paradox may be thought 
to justify .the removal of a teacher, however con¬ 
spicuous for a rare combination of the noblest qualities 
of mind and heart; for genius and eloquence, for 
piety and virtue, for energy and devotedness to the 
service of God and man. But I am not sure that 

3 2 

Principal of Kings College. 

the interests of such an institution are promoted 
by either the exercise or the possession of such a 
power.’ * 

The following letter to Mr. Harvey of Hornsey, 
who had just then undertaken to edit ‘ the Chris¬ 
tian Remembrancer,’ shows that his time was 
fully occupied by the preparation of his theo¬ 
logical lectures and looking over the examination 
papers of the students, and the general superin¬ 
tendence of the college. We shall see hereafter 
that Archdeacon Allen, who was then Chaplain of 
K.C.L., speaks particularly of the care which he 
bestowed upon them. 

‘ King’s College London, 30 March, 1840. 

‘My dear Harvey, —You put me, I assure you, 
to great pain by renewing requests which I am under 
the necessity of refusing. I have no time to read 
new books : how can I then have time to review, or 
even, as you editors speak, to ‘ notice ’ them ? 

‘ Alas,. I have neither means nor leisure for supply¬ 
ing you with a memoir of my most kind friend, and 
most able master, the late Provost of Eton. 

‘ I will not fail to look at your first number. But I 

* Appendix to the Letter of the Bishop of St. David’s to Dr. 
Rowland Williams, Vice-Principal of Lampeter (i860), who cer¬ 
tainly did his best to provoke bishop Thirlwall to imitate bishop 
Blomfiejd. But he wields another weapon, which executes without 
conferring any glories of martyrdom. 


The provostship of Eton. 


fear I shall not be able to induce the Dignitary to 
take in the C. R. 

‘ The passage to which I alluded in Hallam’s Litera¬ 
ture is a beautiful one about Pascal ; in which he 
goes out of his way to reprobate the doctrine of the 
corruption of human nature. But I understand he 
speaks crudely about Bull, and perhaps other divines. 

> ‘What an indefatigable man you are, to go to 
Gravesend to hear lectures on geography and re¬ 
turn by night. Mrs. Lonsdale is at Southfleet. 

‘ Believe me most truly yours, 

‘Jno. Lonsdale.’ 

The reference to Dr. Goodall’s death in this 
letter aptly leads to an event which troubled 
Mr. Lonsdale much, as it caused a temporary 
estrangement between him and his beloved Eton : 
not indeed on his side; and with no good reason 
on the other. The fellows of that college have 
long, perhaps always, elected the nominee of the 
Crown as their Provost, though the Crown has 
no such power of nomination by the Statutes, 
and though the same usurpation had been suc¬ 
cessfully resisted by the. fellows of King’s, when 
no less a person than Sir Isaac Newton was pre¬ 
sented to them for their provost by the Crown. 
But the Statutes require him to have been oq the 
foundation, and to have a divinity degree (B.D. 


34 Elected Provost of Eton. 

or D.D.); which the King’s men seldom take. 
But it so happened that Mr. Lonsdale had taken 
his B.D. degree in 1824. His ‘Act,’ or exercise 
in the divinity schools (see p. $3), on that occa¬ 
sion, and his Concio ad clerum, or Latin sermon 
before the University, are preserved. 

When Dr. Goodall died, on 25 March 1840, 
the Crown, that is to say, Lord Melbourne, 
nominated the Rev. Francis Hodgson, vicar of 
Bakewell, the first Lord Denman’s son-in-law, to 
be elected provost. But he was only an M.A.; 
and the college was probably hot sorry to have 
so good an excuse for asserting its rights against 
the Crown, especially just then. They applied 
to Dr. Keate the late head-master, and to Dr. 
Hawtrey who was then head-master, but they 
both declined the provostship. Then they asked 
Mr. Lonsdale, who consented, and was elected. 
He would rather have been provost of Eton than 
archbishop of Canterbury. But his unwilling¬ 
ness to disappoint Mr. Hodgson, an old college 
friend, to whom the place was of consequence, 
led him, as he told the college, after some de¬ 
liberation to decline. Meanwhile Mr. Hodgson 
was made B.D. at Cambridge by royal mandate, 
and the fellows accepted him, having no other 
eligible and willing candidate! It would have 

Archdeacon of Middlesex. 35 

been no real, victory over the Crown if Mr. Lons¬ 
dale had enabled them to reject a nominee un¬ 
qualified by the statutes. 

An absurd appendage to the story was invented 
by somebody, and was repeated lately, that there 
was an understanding .with the Crown that 
Mr. Lonsdale should be otherwise provided for. 
It is enough to answer that, if so, ‘the Crown’ 
broke its word, seeing th^t he was offered nothing 
until nearly four years after that, and then by a 
very different Prime Minister. When the provost- 
ship was vacant again, on Dr. Hawtrey’s death in 
186a, the bishop would have liked to have it; for 
he was then 74, and had begun to feel his always 
increasing work too heavy, and to talk of resign¬ 
ing. But he would not ask for it, and it was 
naturally not offered to a bishop. 

His last preferment before the bishopric was 
the archdeaconry of Middlesex, which he took at 
the request of bishop Blomfield in November 
184a, though it was an office of much trouble 
and little value, and involved the loss of his 
country house and rectory of Southfleet, because 
that is in another diocese. His legal discernment 
and caution were sometimes useful in correcting 
the proverbially hasty judgement of his superior. 
I remember his asking me some questions about a 

d a 

3 6 Bishop Blomfield. 

letter by which his bishop proposed tp settle some 
parochial disputes in Hertfordshire, then in the 
archdeaconry of Middlesex. It contained * five 
propositions, all stated with admirable decision 
and clearness—and every one wrong, in either the 
law or the facts. As it is said in -bishop Blom- 
fields Life that he consulted his archdeacons 
before delivering his unlucky charge of 1842, I 
must observe that Mr. Lonsdale did not become 
his archdeacon till after that visitation. I re¬ 
member his expressing his regret that he had not 
been consulted before it; and he often referred to 
it afterwards as a warning to bishops not to attempt 
to settle disputed questions ex cathedrA 

Still, notwithstanding his hasty and arbitrary 
disposition, bishop Blomfield was undoubtedly, 
in a public sense, the greatest ecclesiastic of his 
time: with abilities and energy of the highest 
order, s.incere, liberal, and forgiving, sometimes 
under great provocation and unjust abuse. For 
he cultivated no arts of popularity, and his temper 
did not naturally conciliate it, though he made 
friends warmly attached to him. His great scheme 
of Church reform, with all its mistakes, probably 
saved the Church from her enemies. He would 
have received more credit for it if he had not 
unfortunately ‘ resolved to keep the control of the 

His church reform. 


‘ revenues of the see of London while he held the 
‘see,’ though they were on the average half as 
much again as he pronounced enough for any 
successor; and the whole scheme had too much 
the character of gaining credit for liberality by 
throwing other people’s dinners out of the win¬ 
dow, according to Sydney Smith’s well known 
apologue of the ‘ Synod of Dort.’ 

How would any of those reformers have liked 
to undertake the duties expected of a dean on 
1000/. or even 1500/. a*year? Or if the Crown 
in former days had taken ‘London House’ and 
given the bishop an estate in compensation for it, 
would bishop Blomfield have called it a ‘ holy in- 
* novation ’ to take away the estate too, and leave 
him to hire a house in London out of his reduced 
income ? Yet that is what they did for the arch¬ 
bishops of York—after the then existing one, who 
had therefore no interest in resisting the spoliation, 
and was himself a commissioner for reforming the 
Church. A house in London is at least as neces¬ 
sary to an archbishop of York whq,is to do his duty 
to his province as it is to a bishop who has another 
within five miles. And so the northern primate, 
with his own vast diocese to travel over besides, is 
made much poorer than the bishop of London; 
r which never was intended, and indeed was never 

38 Bishop'Blomfield's church reform. 

thought of at the time it was done; and he has 
only two thirds of the income of the other pri¬ 
mate with his very small diocese. The spoliation 
was the more; unjust because the London houses 
of the bishops of Winchester and Ely were left 

It is fair to add that bishop Blomfield was un¬ 
sparing of himself, and a munificent dispenser of 
his very large income; of which his son says he 
gave away a third. Nor did he enrich either 
himself or his family at the expense of the 
church. And yet, when he was broken down 
by 3 a years’ work, and paralysed, there were 
‘ high church ’ orators in both Houses of Parlia¬ 
ment* who thought fit to denounce as ‘simony’ 
the arrangement for his retiring on a small fraction 
of what he might have kept, leaving his work’ 
to be done by others, or not done at all; and this, 
although the full legal income was left for his 
successor. The mistake that was made both 
then, and when the Act 6 and 7 Vic. c. 6a was 
passed for providing partial assistance for disabled 

* Such as the bishops of Exeter and Oxford and Mr. Gladstone, 
the first of whom is now ninety. If Bishop Blomfield had held a 
cai\onry of Durham, and of Exeter, and had lived in a house of his 
own, not the palace of the see, he could have resigned without an 
Act of Parliament to secure him a pension, and without incurring 
that charge of 1 simony.’ 

Resignation of bishops. 


bishops, was in not providing pensions for them 
all on complete resignation, like the judges.* 
This, like other wants, has been made more diffi¬ 
cult, but by no means impossible to remedy, since 
the confusion of the ‘ episcopal fund,’ or produce 
of all the old episcopal estates, with the ‘ common 
fund’ of the Ecclesiastical Commission under the 
Act 13 and 14 Vic. c. 94. In like manner, after 
wasting-untold thousands in bad bargains about 
bishops’ palaces, the cost of substituting proper 
houses for others totally unfit, such as those at 
Lichfield and Chester, is now deducted from the 
fixed legal income of the bishop in whose time it 
has to be done.-f- So indeed it is for parsonages; 
but the value of livings is not reduced or fixed 
by Act of Parliament. 

These things may be said to have no special 
reference to bishop Lonsdale. But neither he nor 
any other bishop made since the Ecclesiastical 
Commission was established, has been unaffected 

* I do not forget that some of the opponents in parliament said 
this against the Bill for bishops Blomfield and Maltby’s pensions. 
But the suggestion of rival schemes is only a well-understood mode, 
of opposition. No such amendment was practically proposed, either 
then or afterwards. 

t Their latest exploit was the selling of Stapleton House near 
Bristol for half of the a a,000/. they had given for it, and building 
with the proceeds a ‘palace’ in a low back street at Gloucester 
which would not sell for 3000/. 


Sir Robert Peel's offer 

thereby, though it would be going into needless 
- details to explain the relations between them. The 
biography of a bishop seems to me as fit an oc¬ 
casion as any for noticing the changes made in 
his time which have affected every dignitary of 
the Church. Moreover the frequent connexion 
and the occasional opposition between him and 
bishop Blomfield make it impossible not to speak 
of that prelate ; and having to do so I wish to do 
them both justice. 

James Bowstead, bishop of Lichfield, who was 
translated thither from Sodor and Man in January 
1839, on the death of bishop Samuel Butler, the 
master who had made Shrewsbury school famous, 
had been disabled by illness nearly all the time he 
held the see. He died at Clifton about the nth 
of October 1843 » and on Sunday the 29th, when 
Mr. Lonsdale (he disliked being called archdeacon) 
was preaching in the Savoy church, since burnt 
down and rebuilt, the following letter was brought 
to him by a Treasury messenger:— 

‘ Drayton Manor, Fazely, 28 Oct 1843. 

‘Reverend Sir, —It becomes my duty, in con¬ 
sequence of the death of the late Bishop of Lichfield, 
to submit to the Queen my advice with regard to the 
succession to that see. 

of the bishopric of Lichfield. 


‘ Being deeply impressed with the importance of the 
appointment to the best interests of the Church, and 
most anxious to secure for this extensive and popu¬ 
lous district the services of a bishop in whose ability 
discretion and activity the highest confidence may be 
placed, I am prepared to submit your name to Her 
Majesty for the See of Lichfield. 

' It must be needless for me to assure you that I am 
influenced in .this decision by no other considerations 
than respect for your character, and conviction of 
your qualifications in an eminent degree for the dis¬ 
charge of episcopal functions; and I shall rejoice to 
learn that the proposal I now make is acceptable 
to you. ‘ I am, &c 

‘Robert Peel. 

‘ The Rev. J. Lonsdale.’ 

A few years ago any hesitation to accept a 
bishqpric was universally assumed to be a kind of 
orthodox hypocrisy, and people who probably did 
not know whether the consecration of bishops is 
done in Latin or English used to assert positively 
that at some stage of the ceremony the bishop 
elect had actually to,say ‘Nolo episcopari.’ But 
the well known refusals of the late Professor Blunt, 
of the vicar of Doncaster, and of several other 
perspns to whom this very bishopric of Lichfield 
has been offered, have shown even to men of the 
world, who are not given to believing in good 


His unwillingness to be a bishop. 

motives, that a knowledge of the duties of a 
bishop’s life, and of its mere hard labour if those 
duties are truly performed, may well deter the 
most conscientious men from undertaking it. 

Mr. Lonsdale had various reasons for hesitation, 
and for being unwilling to accept that bishopric 
at least. His natural humility and distrust of his 
own powers was one, and indeed at the bottom 
of them -all. He had been too intimate with 
bishops to be ignorant of the work that he would 
have to do in what may be called the largest 
diocese in England, taking into account both 
area and population and number of clergy; and 
he thought himself too old to undertake it. He 
knew that the two last bishops had been invalids 
all their time there, and that for several years there 
had been as good as none. Moreover, the party 
which dexterously usurped the name of ‘ Evan¬ 
gelical’ was known to be then dominant in the 
diocese; and he liked neither their theology nor 
their usual principles of action; and foresaw that 
struggles were impending with the opposite and 
rising party, to which he w*as no more inclined. 
He knew that he should have to moderate between 
them, and he was too modest to expect anything 
but the usual success of moderators, the animosity 
of both sides. So he withheld his answer for 

His Consecration and episcopate. 

. 43 - 

several days, seeking for friends who would sup¬ 
port his own opinion of his unfitness, and of 
course seeking them in vain. He consulted his 
Archbishop and the Bishop of London, and found 
that they had both advised the Prime Minister, to 
select him. 

So he unwillingly accepted; and was conse¬ 
crated on the 3rd of December 1843 hi his old 
'chapel of Lambeth, by Archbishop Howley, 
Bishop Blomfield, and Bishop Sumner of Win¬ 
chester, an old college friend, and godfather of 
one of his daughters. He went immediately to 
Eccleshall and held an ordination, and started on 
the work which was only to end with his life. 

And then began an episcopate which will be 
memorable while the Church of England stands; 
not for any memorable single acts, but for the 
steady and unbroken performance of all the duties 
of his great office, for four and twenty years, as 
they had never been performed before. There 
have been, and there are, greater men than he 
was in some of his many excellent gifts. But 
where have we seen‘one man at once so wise, 
loving, patient, contented, laborious, kind and cha¬ 
ritable to all men, in the widest sense of that word: 
so just, sincere, humble, courteous, hospitable: 
such a cheerful, genial, and pleasant companion: 

44 Beginning of his episcopate. 

with his learning, accuracy, and judgment; his 
force, persuasiveness, and elegance of speech and 
writing: combining so much simplicity with so 
much dignity : so accessible at all times to all men, 
and attentive to their wants: with such recollection 
of. their characters, circumstances, and business, 
and such punctuality in dealing with it; and that 
not evasively, so as to, shake off further trouble, but 
thoroughly and anxiously, as if it were his own : 
so forgetful of himself and thoughtful for others: 
immoveable when he had made a promise to do 
anything, or had made up his mind what he ought 
to do, but yielding almost too easily where only 
his own convenience was involved: such a lover 
of all good men and so ready to see the good in 
every man : such a promoter of good works : so 
free from all the forms of vanity, the love of public 
applause and the love of displaying his own clever¬ 
ness: such a truly right reverend Father in God, 
as this John Lonsdale Bishop of Lichfield? 

Either by accident or design, he had kept the 
following letter undestroyed, among the 300 and 
more which I remember he received on his eleva¬ 
tion, from another Eton friend, the elder bishop 
Sumner, of Chester, grandson of a provost of 
King’s, and afterwards archbishop of Canterbury. 

Letter on his consecration. 


‘ Chester, 21 Nov. 1843. 

* My dear Archdeacon, —Addressed by me with 
this title for the last time, accept, not my congratula¬ 
tions, but the expression of my satisfaction that you 
are to fill the See of Lichfield, and that we are to 
have you as our future colleague. I did not venture 
to write earlier, knowing how uncertain reports are 
which one only hears through the public papers, but 
I cannot longer delay to write, though I know how 
many letters you must be receiving at the same time, 
many of them demanding an answer, which I beg 
you to understand that this does not. 

‘ You have held many situations of much usefulness : 
but a very short experience will be sufficient to shew 
you that your present situation will enable you to do 
more in a year for the glory of God and the best 
interests of man than you could have done in a 
whole life spent elsewhere than on the Episcopal 
Bench. And this will repay you for the personal 
sacrifice Which you must make, of ease, comfort, and 
inclination : which sacrifice happily will not take you 
by surprise (as may sometimes have been the case). 
You know to what you have been called. 

‘ That you may long and largely eh joy the blessing 
which comes from communicating blessings, is the 
sincere prayer of 

‘ Your affectionate and faithful Brother, 

‘J. B. Chester. 

‘Archdeacon Lonsdale.’ 


Letter to his wife. 

i finish this chaptet with a letter to his wife, 
who was still at King’s College. 

• ‘ E. G., 7 Jan. 1844. 

‘My dearest Sophy, —From our hearing nothing 
to the contrary, I trust you keep well, notwithstand¬ 
ing all the trouble and work, which, I am sorry to 
say, fall upon you, and in which I cannot help you. 
I assure you I have work and responsibility enough 
here. I fear I was too old to take a bishoprick, at 
least such a bishoprick as this. On Saturday next 
I go to Lichfield; thence to Derby, to consecrate a 
church on Monday, and return here on Tuesday. 
I fear you have had an unpleasant business in clear¬ 
ing out my room. [Then come a number of minute 
directions about papers and keys and the like.] I 
should have come up this week if you had not dis¬ 
couraged me. This you did in your unselfishness. 

‘ Ever, my dearest love, 

‘ Your affectionate 

* - 

Note top. 10.—I hear from the Rev. J. A. Rhodes, perhaps the 
only survivor of the Bishop’s schoolfellows at Heath (too late to 
print in the text), that ‘Jack Lonsdale’ had none of the military 
ardour which then prevailed among boys as well as men: and that 
he was no great proficient in school sports; but that he used to 
make Latin verses for much older boys. Their only fault was that 
they were generally too good, And had to be given back to him to 
have some false quantities and unpoetical ideas judiciously introduced. 

His Annotations on the Gospels. 




T)ishop Lonsdale had undertaken some years 
before he was consecrated, at the request of 
the archbishop of Canterbury, the writing of An¬ 
notations on the Gospels jointly with archdeacon 
Hale. But his work at King’s College, and in 
his own archdeaconry, and afterwards his epis¬ 
copal work still more, delayed its publication till 
1849. ^ was published in too large and costly 

a form for modern taste, but it is truly what it 
professes to be, a book of useful notes, and not 
of vapid reflections and pointless paraphrases, 
shirking all the real difficulties, as too many of 
such books do. 

He regretted that his work left him so little 
time for reading, and less for writing anything 
except his letters, and occasionally a new sermon 
for a special purpose. Generally he had to be 
content with altering his qld ones; and it is diffi¬ 
cult to understand how he managed to see his 
way, always, without hesitation, through such a 


Royal Commission on 

labyrinth of corrections as some of them exhibit. 
He was never satisfied with his work so long as 
he could see how it might be .done better. Most 
of his reading had to be done in his journeys, and 
little of that was for his own pleasure. Besides 
official papers, and tracts of the Christian Know¬ 
ledge Society sent to him as ‘episcopal referee,’ 
all of which he read and made notes on, he took 
the rare and generally needless trouble of reading 
something at least of the innumerable books and 
pamphlets that were sent to him, before he 
acknowledged them, if possible. 

In 1847 he was made the episcopal member 
and chairman of the Royal Commission for in¬ 
quiring into the effect of the Act of 1835, erro¬ 
neously called Lord Lyndhurst’s (who had pro¬ 
posed a very different measure), but really Bishop 
Blomfield’s, aided by the Bishop of Exeter, for 
making all future marriages with wives’ sisters, 
nieces, &c., absolutely void, as being ‘ contrary to 
the laws of God and the Church,’ but all the past 
ones absolutelyvalid, instead of being voidable on a 
contingency which seldom happened. The Report 
bears unmistakeable marks of Bishop Lonsdale’s 
hand throughout. It* gives most fairly the con¬ 
flicting opinions and feelings about the prohibition 
of such marriages, and states without reserve that 

the marriage Act of 1835 . 


the Act had produced and must continue to pro¬ 
duce bad and immoral consequences, and that in 
the opinion of the Commissioners no -such legisla¬ 
tion could do otherwise: a sufficiently striking 
commentary on the proposition of its authors that 
it was founded on the laws of God. 

The Commissioners, after hearing a great deal ' 
of evidence and argument, pronounced the feel¬ 
ing against such marriages to be 1 founded rather 
‘ on a vague and uninformed assumption that they 
‘ are prohibited by God’s Word, than on a mature 
‘ examination either of the 'Scriptures or of the 
‘ law of the Church.’ As the controversy has been 
asleep for some years, I may as well explain the 
meaning of these last words. The ‘ Table of pro¬ 
hibited degrees,’ usually printed in prayer books, 
is no part of the legal prayer book: the Church 
of England has nowhere defined what degrees are 
prohibited by God’s law: the only words about 
these marriages in the Bible are, in the judgment 
of the Commissioners, rather in favour of than 
against, them; and there is no evidence of any 
such prohibition in the first three centuries. 

This is not the place to discuss the question, 
except so far as Bishop Lonsdale was concerned 
in it. I therefore go on to state that when a Bill 
for repealing the Act of 1835 came up to the 

5 ° 

Marriages of affinity. 

Lords from the Commons a few years afterwards, 
Bishop Blomfield announced the discovery that 
the marriages were prohibited in the earliest times, 
by the ‘Apostolical Canons:’ not knowing that 
even Dr. Pusey had given them up as a forgery 
of the 4th century; and having (incredible as it 
seems) not even read enough of them to see that 
he had contrived by his own two marriages to 
violate every one of the four ‘Apostolical Canons’ 
which relate to matrimony, except^ the one he 
wanted for his argument. He was too honest 
■n man to deceive the House of Lords intention¬ 
ally, to say nothing of the inevitable exposure of 
himself: he had evidently been misled by some¬ 
body, and plunged into this double blunder with 
characteristic rashness. 

The Bishop of Exeter was still bolder. He 
assured the Lords that he could prove no less 
surprising a proposition than that Herodias’s first 
husband was dead before she married his brother. 
When his proof was published it turned out to 
be a mere guess of his own at a new interpreta¬ 
tion of Josephus’s account; which shows that 
Philip was alive, even more clearly than Matt, xiv 
■ and Mark vi. And when he published a ‘ Letter 
to the Bishop of Lichfield.’ on the subject' in 
i860, he was silent about his Herodian discovery; 

, The bishop of [Exeter on Herod.' 

which, if true, was worth more thari volumes of 
argument about ‘the opinion of the Church.’ 
The nature of the discovery had of course been 
exposed. The cause of that letter was his dis¬ 
pleasure at Bishop Lonsdale having authorised 
Lord Granville to tell the House of Lords that 
his opinion of the lawfulness of such marriages 
was unchanged. He tried also, with what success 
may be imagined, to crush one of the first 
Hebrew scholars in the world, the late Dr. McCaul, 
who had published his opinion, concurring with 
that of the chief Jewish Rabbi, that there is no 
ground in Leviticus xviii for the prohibition, but 
rather the contrary. 

But here it must be confessed that our bishop’s 
one infirmity—a dread of any violent public oppo¬ 
sition, especially from the clergy, however wrong 
he thought them—kept him silent and absent 
when those Bills were introduced ,to repeal the 
Act which he had declared to be producing ‘ a 
‘ great and continually increasing evil.’ . Arch¬ 
bishop Howley is quoted for saying, ‘ Our friend 
‘Lonsdale is too thin-skinned.’ But no man 
knew better than he did the difference between 
reasons and excuses; such as those which were 
invented for keeping up the prohibition, on what 
are called ‘social grounds,’ after the, theological 

e- a 

52 The Bishop's opinion on ‘ Simony'. 

—*_ _ .... - - . 

ground had fallen away under them,'which every¬ 
body knows was the real reason of the clerical 
agitation by which it has been maintained. Arch-* 
bishop Whately truly said that if we are to pro¬ 
hibit all the marriages that we think inexpedient, 
We should have a much longer catalogue of pro¬ 
hibitions than the. ‘ Table of degrees.’ Bishop 
Lonsdale was content with the two facts, one 
religious and the other social, that these mar¬ 
riages are not contrary to God’s law, and that 
their prohibition only produces frequent concu¬ 
binage instead of marriage. For no legislation 
can prevail against the practical conviction that 
an aunt is likely to make the best stepmother. 

I have heard him astonish his clergy not a 
little by his opinion on another point, in which he 
said Bishop Blomfield agreed with him. When¬ 
ever he was driven to speak of it he said that the 
thing called simony by our law' has no business to 
be called so. It might just as well be called 
magic; for it has no relation whatever to the sin 
of Simon Magus, from which it professes to Be 
named. And he pronounced it a still greater 
absurdity that the buying of livings should' be 
illegal, unless it is aggravated by being made a 
gambling speculation on the life of the incumbent'; 
which again is often fraudulently evaded. It 

His contempt of bad reasoning. 


would often be far better for the Church that an 
incumbent should be hot only allowed, but en¬ 
couraged, to retire openly on fair terms from a 
post which he has become unfit to hold but can¬ 
not afford to give up for nothing. 

These are illustrations of a quality of the 
Bishop’s mind not so generally known as some 
1 others, his impregnability to all arguments in¬ 
volving either bad logic or bad scholarship, how¬ 
ever orthodox they might be. 

The late Mr. Gunning of .Cambridge, who held 
an office for 64 years which led him to attend the 
divinity schools constantly, says in his Remi¬ 
niscences (ii. 322) ‘'John Lonsdale kept his 
‘ exercises (for B.D. degree) in a manner superior 
* to any person I ever heard,’ particularly con¬ 
trasting him with Rennell. ‘Though he dis- 
‘ covered' a fallacy in an argument quicker than 
‘ any man I ever met with, he never answered 
‘ an argument before he had heard it, as very 
‘ quick men are apt to do. He discussed each 
‘ syllogism on its own merits, ^and when ht 
‘ arrived at the end he disposed of the argument 
‘ in the fewest possible words, but so completely 
‘ that the opponent felt himself incapable of re¬ 
joining.’ This quickness in detecting bad rea¬ 
soning, together with his great knowledge, made 

54 Cambridge University Commission . 

him a severe judge of books, sermons,‘and speeches. 
Some persons who pass for great authorities with 
the world were rated very differently by him. 

He was also appointed, and acted for a short 
time as chairman of the Cambridge University 
Commission of 1857; that is, the second com¬ 
mission for making or sanctioning new statutes for 
the University and Colleges. But he found the 
sittings in London interfere so much with his 
diocesan work that he soon resigned, and was 
succeeded by the other episcopal member, Bishop 
Graham* of Chester, Clerk of the Royal Closet, a 
clever man, famous for his fluency of talk and 
contempt of correspondence. 

I have mentioned at page 31 one instance in 
which our bishop’s views of ecclesiastical law, 
though contrary to the almost universal impres¬ 
sion at the time, were ultimately upheld by the 
supreme ecclesiastical tribunal. There has lately 
been another. When Doncaster church was 
rebuilt in 1858 after, its burning down, I wanted 
V to be reopened without the legal part of the 
ceremony of consecration, which is only the 
signing of a deed by the bishop in the church. 
The Bishop of Lichfield said he saw no reason 
for any legal ceremony: the religious ceremony, 
I need hardly say, is optional, and adds nothing 

Consecration of rebuilt Churches . 


to the legal one, and indeed has ho authority from 
the law of England. The diocesan officials 
naturally contended for consecration, and Arch¬ 
bishop Musgrave naturally followed them. Bishop 
Lonsdale was not ignorant of the decision of a 
diocesan chancellor, founded bn some dicta, but 
of only Popish authority (as the Privy Council 
said), that a total rebuilding, and even a removal 
of the altar (which the communion table is not) 
requires reconsecration. Those dicta have been 
overruled by the Privy Council in the late case of 
Parker v. Leach,* where a church*was nearly all 
rebuilt; and it is now ‘ declared and enacted' by 
the ‘churchyards consecration Act 1867,’ s. 12, 
that all rites and ceremonies shall be as valid as 
before, in a church rebuilt or enlarged, without 
reconsecration. So it is now settled that no con¬ 
secration is requisite unless there is unconsecrated 
ground to be added. 

He once had a curious dispute with the most 
litigious of his brethren. A clergyman who hap¬ 
pened to have preferment both in the diocese of 
Lichfield and another, was accused of drunken¬ 
ness in Lichfield. Our bishop always said it was 
next to impossible to convict a clergyman of 
drunkenness, however clear the charges might 

* Law Reports, Privy Council cases, vol. i. p. 319. 

56 Commissions under ‘clergy discipline Act'. 

appear beforehand, unless he happened to have 
some very strong personal enemies. And he used 
to mention cases where. bishops had spent thou¬ 
sands of pounds in prosecutions of that sort which 
Tiad broken down, though the offences were 
notorious. So he promised this clergyman that 
he would not issue a commission under the Clergy 
Discipline Act, if he would go away. He did go 
away into his other diocese. The bishop thereof 
soon found out why he had come, and called on. 
the bishop of Lichfield to proceed against him, 
saying (rightly enough so far) that he had nothing 
to do with the bargain which had been made; and 
he insisted that the bishop was bound to' pro* 
ceed, on a demand for a commission being made. 
He answered, by my advice, that no demand -had 
been made by any parishioner. Still the other 
bishop did not give in—as he never did; but the 
clergyman saved further trouble by dying. 

If he had not, and the other bishop had gone 
on, and applied for a mandamus, he would have 
fared as somebody did afterwards who tried to 
make the bishop of Chichester issue a commis¬ 
sion. For all the Court of Queen’s Bench agreed 
that a bishop need not do so at the demand of a 
stranger to the parish, and the majority decided 
that it is always discretionary. But if the com- 

. The Bishop as a lawyer . 


mission has been issued and reports that there is 
ground for proceeding, the bishop may be com¬ 
pelled to go on; as was decided in the ill-managed 
" proceedings against archdeacon Denison; who 
got rid of the sentence of deprivation pronounted 
against him, by the technicality that the ‘ suit * 
was not begun in time (within 2 years) in con¬ 
sequence of that very delay.* 

The bishop used to complain of the defects of 
the modern books of ecclesiastical law, and wished 
for a new one written by an ecclesiastical lawyer in 
real practice. I sometimes got better information 
from him than I could find in them. I have a 
letter in Which he had taken the trouble to write 
out a whole section of an Act for me, which was 
Unnoticed in a book of reputation. If he could 
not answer the question offhand, he generally 
knew where the answer was to be found. 

The most important single event of his epis¬ 
copate, and the one which gave him most anxiety 
for a .considerable time, was the establishment of 
the Theological College at Lichfield for training 
candidates for orders. The history which J deduce 
from a mass of papers, aided by my own recollec¬ 
tion on some points, is this. Early in 185a the 
project was started by the Rev. E. J. Edwards of 


Lichfield theological college. 

Trentham and the Rev. E. T. Codd, then of Cotes 
Heath near Eccleshall. It was well received, and 
an address was presented to the Bishop in favour 
of it by the Dean, Archdeacons Hodson and Hill, 
and some others whose names have not the signi¬ 
ficance of those two archdeacons in indicating 
that nothing of a ‘ tractarian ’ tendency could 
reasonably be apprehended, to say nothing of the 
Bishop’s own presidency of the Council being 
a preliminary condition. 

His opinion of it will be best given in*his own 
words at the Visitation of 1853 : 

‘When the proposal for establishing a theological 
college was put before me, after giving it the con¬ 
sideration which seemed to me to be due to the thing 
itself as well as to the proposers; and after taking 
counsel with those whom I felt it to be a privilege 
and a pleasure to have as counsellors, I gave my full 
consent, with their concurrence, to the circulation of 
the proposal throughout the diocese. I said also at 
the same time that I regarded this as a step in the 
right direction ; and so I say still’ He gave the 
reasons for his conclusion at some length, and then 
proceeded : ‘ But apprehensions are entertained that 
a theological college may become a party institution. 
Undoubtedly it may, and probably will become such, 
if it be established .on a party principle or conducted 

His Charge of 1853 . 


'in a party spirit. But. this appears to me to be only 
an accidental and by no means a necessary effect of 
such institutions. If they be founded upon the broad, 
but not loose foundation of the Church pf England ; 
if those to whom the immediate management of them- 
is committed be imbued and actuated by her spirit 
of wise zeal and faithful moderation, (the natural 
fruits of a large acquaintance with the history, as 
well as the doctrines of the Church,) these institutions 
may well be expected to prove, not nurseries of, but 
safeguards against, those extreme views and courses ; 
with which, whether on 1 one side or the other, there is 
nothing congenial in the teaching of our Lord or his 
Apostles, particularly the Apostle St. Paul; which 
are found to be so injurious to the peace, and well¬ 
working, and extension of the Church; and which 
are continually leading to changes and reactions in 
those who have taken such views and courses, so 
remarkable that they cannot fail to be observed, and 
so instructive that they cannot but be profitable to 
calm and unprejudiced observers.’ 

The apprehensions here referred to, that the 
college might become a party institution, had 
been loudly expressed, and a violent opposition 
raised against it, by some of the party whose 
previous domination in the diocese had made 
him hesitate about accepting the bishopric. He 
warned the promoters from the first that that 


Lichfield theological college. 

would happen, because two other theological' 
colleges had acquired a ‘ high church ’ character; 
and he knew that the party who denounced it 
would be content with nothing short of the con¬ 
trol of the institution for themselves. In fact 
they had already demanded that the council 
should be elected, not by all the subscribers to 
the college, but by ‘universal suffrage of the 
‘ clergy,’ which they thought would answer their 
purpose. They little knew the man they had 
to deal with. Archdeacon Moore, many years 
vicar of Eccleshall, once well said to me, pointing 
to the bishop’s room, ‘You know there are two 
‘ men sitting there; one is a bishop who acqui- 
‘ esces in a great deal that he does not like, and 
‘the other is an old Yorkshireman who is never 
‘ taken in.’ He was not taken in then, and refused 
to sanction any such proposal, even to avoid the 
conflict which he too much dreaded. 

His letters at this time show how deeply he 
was vexed by the opposition. And he undoubt¬ 
edly rejoiced at the appearance of a decisive reason 
for postponing the scheme for a time, as he said 
in the aforesaid charge,- in ‘ the inquiry addressed 
* to the Bishops by the Cathedral Commissioners 
“as to the propriety of applying any portion of 
‘ * the Cathedral revenues towards the maintenance 
‘ ‘ of theological colleges.’ ’ 

The opposition to it. 


Accordingly it was delayed for two years more: 
but only for the opposition to be then resumed 
with more animosity than ever. Handbills were 
published and meetings called to consider 

‘What steps should be taken to oppose a scheme 
fraught with so much danger to the best interests of 
the diocese ’ from ‘ the renewed attempt to carry into 
effect the project of establishing a diocesan theolo¬ 
gical college, the inevitable tendency of which would 
be to propagate tractarianism and force it upon the; 
diocese in its most insidious and odious shape.’ * ' 

The opponents even tried by a Bill in Chancery, 
filed by some subscribers whose motive for sut? 
scribing was obvious, to stop the resolutions of a 
general meeting of subscribers from being acted 
on; and their motion for an, injunction was 
refused with costs in Februaiy 1857, 

The bishop says in a letter tcf Mr. Harland, 
the Vicar of Colwich, of 3 September 1855 : 

* It grieves me to see that a most violent opposition 
to the proposed College is on foot I have had j a 
letter from a lay committee at Stoke upon the sub¬ 
ject ; and one in MS. [I suppose the other was printed] 

• * I need hardly say that this inflated kind of language, to which, 
by some unknown law of nature, that party is specially addicted, 
was offensive to the bishop’s taste—except where it was so purely 
ridiculous that he could enjoy laughing at it 


Lichfield theological college. 

from Mr. Hebert [a clergyman there, and plaintiff in 
the Chancery suit just now mentioned], in which he 
charges us with ‘proceeding in defiance of public 
opinion,’ and of doing what will ‘ convulse the diocese 
from one end to the other.’ He also imputes to me 
a departure from what I said in my Charge: an 
imputation which I feel to be utterly groundless.’ 

Here then was a storm great enough to have 
intimidated a ‘weak man, ready to sacrifice truth 
on the altar of peace,’ according to a phrase 
which somebody of that party applied to him, 
in revenge for his having really sacrificed his own 
peace on the altar of truth. It must be confessed 
that he was alarmed, not for himself but for the 
diocese. He wished the scheme had never been 
started; and he said in one of his letters to 
Mr, Edwards, at the very time when he was 
publicly defending it as a good thing in itself, 
‘ May God turn to good (though I can hardly 
‘hope to see it) what at present appears to 6e 
‘ productive of so great an increase of our un- 
‘ happy divisions.’ But he considered his faith 
pledged to_ the promoters, and at the end of 
another equally desponding letter he adds, * but I 
‘will do nothing to stop the plan.’ If he had 
withdrawn his name, it must have stopped, be¬ 
cause his presidency was' a condition of the sub- 

His determined support of it. 63 

scriptions. If he had shown to the opponents 
one of the discouraging letters (as I must needs 
call them) which he was writing to the promoters, 
it would have flown through the diocese in a 
week and the scheme would have been ruined. 
With only a little dexterous evasion he might 
have made it impossible to go on with it, and 
escaped all farther anxiety. He did none of 
these things, but faithfully stood' by the pro¬ 
moters to the end. Those same desponding 
letters contain frequent suggestions about the 
appointment of a Principal, and he took the 
greatest pains in selecting one. He was rewarded 
by seeing his fears not realized, and the College 
risen into the most flourishing of all such institu¬ 
tions, and its opponents silenced by its success and 
its freedom from all taint of partisanship. After 
describing its condition and its work in his last 
Charge he says, ‘The College then is no failure; 
‘and its results are before the world.’ 

Before leaving this subject I select one of his 
many letters about it, to illustrate a feature of 
his character which I have several times spoken 
of. I must prefix that to which it is an answer. 

‘ Trentham, 12 Feb. 1853. 

‘ My LORD,—Mr. Codd and I learn frorii Archdeacon 
Hodson’s letter to Mr. Bishop [who acted for the 


Lichfield theological college. 

opponents of the college], Feb. 7, which appears in 
the ‘ Advertiser ’ of to-day, that you have deemed it 
right to suspend for a while the project of the Theo¬ 
logical College. Nothing can persuade us that it 
could have been your Lordship’s wish that we should 
receive this intimation for the first time through the 
columns of the county paper. 

' I remain, &c. 

‘ E. J. Edwards.’ 

‘The Abnalls, Lichfield, 14 Feb. 1853. 

* My DEAR Mr. Edwards,—I would have answered 

your note by return of post had it been in my power, 
but I did not receive it till &c. 

* I cannot tell you how much it has vexed me. 
Nothing could be further from my feelings or thoughts 
than to offer anything like disrespect, or any sort of 
slight, to you or Mr. Codd. And this I hope you will 
believe from my whole conduct, at least generally. 

‘ That there appears to be ground of complaint, nay 
I will say that there is, in the matter about which 
you have written to me, I freely confess, and am truly 
sorry for it, and I heartily ask your and Mr. Codd’s 

* The excuse which I have to offer is this [then he 
explains at considerable length how the Archdeacon’s 
letter came to be written and sent when it was]. But 
strange (though I hope not incredible) as it may seem 

His interest in education. 


to you, it never occurred to me that you would learn 
what had been done from a newspaper before you 
heard from me by to-morrow’s post The same 
reason which prevented me from writing to you has 
prevented me from writing to Mr. Codd too. 

* Believe me, &c. 

‘J. Lichfield.’ 

The bishop’s, interest in education was by no 
means confined to that of the clergy. Education 
of children was perhaps the'one object to which 
he gave the most attention, as fundamental to 
every other scheme of religious improvement. In 
London, both before and after he was bishop, he 
was an active member of the committee of the. 
National Society, and also of the affiliated insti¬ 
tutions for training schoolmasters and mistresses 
at Battersea and Whitelands. In 1848 a dio¬ 
cesan training school for schoolmistresses was 
established at Derby, and opened in 1853. He 
had to mediate between two parties who disputed 
whether it should be there or at Lichfield, and 
always took a warm interest in it. He presided 
at the examinations annually, and did so for the 
last time the week before he died. 

There was already a training school for masters 
at Lichfield, and there also,he used to attend both 




His support of schools. 

the examinations and the meetings of the com¬ 
mittee, and subscribed 50 1 . a year to .it. In 1853 
there was a project for extending it and erecting 
new buildings near the palace at Lichfield, for 
which he offered a site; but that project was 
abandoned, and in 1861 it was proposed instead, 
and ultimately arranged, that the training school of 
the diocese of Worcester at Saltley near Birming¬ 
ham should be extended to the dioceses of Lichfield 
and Hereford. He took an active part in the 
discussions and arrangements for that purpose, and 
transferred his subscription to the amalgamated 

He organised a system of diocesan inspection of 
parochial schools through the Rural Deans, and 
had abstracts of the inspectors’ reports sent to him, 
and examined them carefully; so that he knew 
the educational condition of every parish. He 
often gave the prizes of local associations for 
keeping children at school and for maintaining 
night schools, and in 1867 he gave away the 
prizes to the children assembled at Lichfield 
from all parts' of the diocese who had passed 
good examinations in religious knowledge. 

He was not ignorant that some of the results of 
education are not encouraging: that such educa¬ 
tion as is given to the poor often appears to breed 

His interest in education. 


the fruits spoken of by the Scotch judge who is 
quoted at p. 17: that the power of reading is 
often employed on mischievous rather than profit¬ 
able reading; and that religious tracts, or science, 
or even innocent books of entertainment, cannot 
compete against immoral novels and infidel or 
revolutionary newspapers. But he would reply 
that all this only proves that education does not 
differ from all other gifts in being liable to be 
turned to bad uses ; but that it is none the less 


on that account essential to all real improvement 
of mankind. It was not of the poor, who were in 
no danger of being misled by reading 120 years 
ago, but of the rich, that the far-seeing prelate 
mentioned in the first page of this book said that 
no time is more wasted than much of that which 
is spent in reading; which is certainly not less 
true now than it was in his time. 

The giving of new Statutes to a Cathedral, 
chiefly for the regulation of the Vicars Choral, 
clerical and lay, is not a very great ^event; but it 
is not always easy to persuade the members of a 
Corporation that they ought to submit to new 
regulations. The Dean and Chapter of Lichfield 
drew up and proposed such Statutes to the Bishop 
in 1862, which must formally proceed from him 

f 2 

'68 Bishop Lonsdale's Statutes. 

and be accepted by the Chapter, and the Vicars, 
who in that and some other cathedrals are a 
separate corporation. The Chapter had intended 
to submit the new statutes to the Vicars for their 
consent; which indeed was legally required. But 
the bishop desired that to be done before he con¬ 
sidered them. As I wrote the Preamble to the 
Statutes for him, I know that this gracious act of 
his was thankfully acknowleged by the Vicars, 
and doubtless made them more willing to accept 
the new provisions, with a few alterations which 
were arranged between them and the Chapter. 
And ‘Bishop Lonsdale’s statutes’ were formally 
promulgated in the Chapter House, sealed by the 
Bishop, the Great Chapter (which includes the 
honorary canons*) and the corporation of the 
Vicars Choral, on the 6th of March 1863. 

In 1865 he gave his hearty support both by 
money and public advocacy to an association at 
Derby for providing trained nurses for the diocese. 

* More accurately, the non-residentiary prebendaries whose 
prebends are ‘ suspended.’ ‘ Honorary canons’ belong only to the 
16 Cathedrals where there were no non-residentiaries before 1840. 
The disendowed canons have happily acquired some compensation 
for the loss of their incomes by being now generally designated 
by that title; which they never were in the days when the title 
was the least important part of a prebendal stall, gut their dignity 
is now in danger of an aggression from below, for minor canons— 
or their friends—are beginning to drop the adjective of inferiority. 

Nurse-training institution. 


That also was opposed by the same party as the 
College, and gave an opportunity to the Bishop 
of showing how well he could control opponents, 
who transgressed the order of a public meeting. 
They seem to have apprehended that this was to 
be a * Sisterhood ’ of ladies who rechristen them¬ 
selves ‘ Sister Ursula ’ instead of Jane Smith, and 
imitate nuns by going about in ugly and fantastic 
dresses, and declare that ‘their 'spiritual wants 
‘ cannot be satisfied without a high Ceremonial,' 
and desert their own sick fathers and mothers 
1 to obey a woman whom they call the Mother 
Superior. The bishop would have supported no 
such association as that. He once went with his 
usual kindness to see a lady who had left the 
diocese to enter one of these institutions in 
London; but he said to his daughter, ‘ I am not 
‘going to ask for Sister Maria, as she calls her- 
‘ self; I shall ask for Miss Smith ’ (let us say). 
He thoroughly despised nonsense, and knew that 
it generally covers something more. He used to 
express his astonishment at clergymen emptying 
their churches of their proper congregations, en- 
raging their parishioners, and encouraging dissent, 
for the pleasure of wearing coloured silks, and 
imitating Popish ceremonies, or inventing new 
ones of their own; whether they meant nothing, or 


were intended to ‘ symbolise a sacramental theory 
which he, at any rate, entirely disbelieved in. 

The disposal of a bishop’s patronage is one of 
the most critical tests of his impartiality, judg¬ 
ment, and firmness. A thorough-going partisan 
has easy work of it. In every appointment that 
he makes he gratifies his own feelings, and is sure 
of the applause of the only people whose opinion 
he cares about or listens to. He is too short¬ 
sighted to perceive that by every appointment 
made*on that ground only he is undermining his 
cause in the long run, not advancing it as he sup¬ 
poses. Every now and then indeed some flagrant 
instance of the kind opens the eyes of the blindest 
partisans to this; but they only regard it as a 
piece of bad luck. Bishop Lonsdale’s impartiality 
has been so unanimously testified that I may well 
leave it on the testimony of universal consent: 
which indeed is better than attempting to prove 
it by examples, since that would involve the as¬ 
signment of some persons to a party which they 
may now wish to disclaim. 

I do not mean that his impartiality ever led 
him to promote men of very extreme opinions: 
for he considered all such opinions mischievous in 
themselves and tending to division—the great evil 

His patronage. 

His impartiality andfirmness. 


always before his eyes. He did 1 mark them which 
cause divisions.’ Where he found such men in 
possession he made the best of them: often say¬ 
ing that such a person was ‘a capital man’ (a 
favourite phrase of his), but it was a pity he was 
such a high or low churchman, as the case might 
be. He said to one of his Rural Deans, of a 
low-church clergyman to whom he had given a 
living, ‘I am not placed here to be the bishop 
‘ of the high churchy or of the low church. It is 
‘ my duty to look with equal eyes upon all who do 
* their work heartily and well Ibithin the fair limits 
‘of the Church of England? 

The disposal of his patronage was the subject 
on which he was most immoveable. I remember 
his being strongly urged to make a certain cathe¬ 
dral appointment for reasons which he admitted 
were good ones, and nobody could have objected 
to it. He would have liked himself to make it 
for those reasons: but he had one reason of his 
own the other way, and he refused. People may 
have thought some of his appointments not so 
good as they could have made themselves, and 
they may have been right. But so long as the 
appointment that is made turns out Well, it is 
hardly possible to affirm with confidence that one 
which is not made would have been the right 

72 His firmness about patronage. 


one. I believe his appointments turned out 
almost invariably well; and no wonder; for he 
never gave preferment except to clergymen whom 
he knew thoroughly as having already worked in 
the diocese (of which I have more to say pre¬ 
sently) ; and his knowledge and recollection of 
the name and character and condition of every 
clergyman in the diocese were a matter of con¬ 
tinual surprise. 

He was never influenced by memorials from 
parishioners, asking that the vacant living might 
be given to the curate. He used to say he knew 
the value of such things too well. I do not say 
that such a memorial would stop his doing what 
he otherwise intended; but they certainly did not 
move him in that direction. We burnt a very 
long one, which had not influenced him, among 
his 23 years’ letters. 

He once told me that he had resisted very 
strong importunities from a nobleman to present 
a certain curate to a living in his neighbourhood. 
He had no particular objection to the curate, but 
he had made up his mind to give the living to 
another, of whom he had long had a very high 
opinion; and he did so. After a time the noble¬ 
man wrote to express his satisfaction that his re¬ 
quest had been disregarded. A bill in Chancery 

Si. Marys Shrewsbury. 


was once filed against him and some other trustees, 
nominally and technically to prevent them from 
appointing to St. Mary’s Shrewsbury any one 
except the son of a burgess of the town, educated 
at Shrewsbury school; really, to compel them to 
appoint the plaintiff in the suit; who succeeded, 
—as he thought. The trustees were advised by 
••very high authority that the Vice-chancellor’s 
decision in his favour was wrong, and I know 
that was also the general opinion of the Bar who 
heard the case argued. But the result of an appeal 
was uncertain, and there are legal reasons for trus¬ 
tees being seldom advised to appeal in matters of 
that kind. They were satisfied however that the 
plaintiff was not. the proper man for the place, 
and they (that is probably the bishop) persuaded 
another Shrewsbury man to take the living, who 
had previously declined. 

It may be remembered that a clergyman who 
had been elected by the parishioners, in one of 
the parishes subject to that curse, was convicted 
of embezzling the money of a satyngs’ bank and 
imprisoned for two years; in consequence, it was 
said, of pecuniary difficulties caused by the ex¬ 
penses of his election. The bishop could have 
made the living vacant by certain legal proceed¬ 
ings ; and he was strongly urged to do so. Primd 

74 His opinion of trustee patronage. 

facie every one would say it was desirable. But 
he would not: partly because he thought the 
punishment inflicted by the criminal law was 
enough; and partly to avoid the evil of another 
election of a clergyman by household suffrage. 
The scandal of that election caused an Act to be 
passed for allowing, but unfortunately not com¬ 
pelling, such livings to be sold and the proceeds 
applied for the benefit of the parish. He told 
me lately that the love of electioneering and the 
‘ public house interest ’ had prevailed as yet in every 
parish in England where the clergyman is so 
elected, and that not one such living had been 
sold; and they are not so few as most people 

Next to that mode of patronage he thought 
vesting it in trustees the worst, as it is nearly 
always done for the very purpose which he ab¬ 
horred most of all, of forcing upon a parish for 
ever clergymen of some extreme opinions: or else, 
as I find him complaining in a letter, it sinks into 
a job; or into the adoption of a candidate who 
has some showy qualities but may be totally unfit 
for the place; though of course such results are 
not invariable, f O, it’s a Simeon’s trustee place,’ 
was not an uncommon answer of his, and was 
significant enough of what he thought of such 

Rules about patronage. 


trusts, even to those who did not know it other¬ 

But I must say a word, for the warning of 
younger men, about the rule which he declared 
very early that he should hold inviolable, to give 
no preferment of his own to any one who had not 
already done some work in the diocese. I know 
■that this was mentioned and applauded at the 
Wolverhampton congress; but the applause of 
a meeting does not alter facts. I had ventured 
long ago, as an independent layman, to predict 
that he would some day find**the evil of that self- 
denying ordinance. And he lived to find himself 
having to recommend to another patron, and learn¬ 
ing just before he died that he had recommended 
in vain, a clergyman whom he had known long 
and well, and highly esteemed; but whom his 
own rule prevented him from promoting, because 
he had only been in a parish which touched the 
boundary of the diocese on the wrong side, besides 
having practically had the management for five 
years of one of the most important parishes in 
London on the bishop’s own recommendation. 

I have heard of other general rules imposed by 
bishops on'their own discretion; forgetting that 
general rules are made in the dark, and that dis¬ 
cretion ought to be exercised in the light of the 

"j6 His dispensation of patronage. 

facts of each case. Bishops, no less than smaller 
people, may remember that the worst, and not 
the best reason a man can give for anything 
which is not the best that could be done in the 
actual circumstances, is that it is prescribed by a 
rule made by himself: for the result has proved 
that he had no business, as he certainly had no 
need, so to preclude himself from doing right. 

Bishop Lonsdale was free from the weakness— 
rare indeed but not unknown—of treating his 
own family worse than others in the disposal of 
his patronage; a miserable piece of cowardice. 
It is not his fault that his eldest son, who was one 
of his examining chaplains throughout his episco¬ 
pate, to say nothing of his well-earned fame else¬ 
where, has no preferment. His second son had 
been a curate in the diocese, besides being secre¬ 
tary of the National Society for some years, before 
his father offered him a canonry, one of the poorest 
in England. His clerical son-in-law, the father of 
his three grandsons before mentioned, had held a 
small incumbency in Shropshire before he gave 
him the living of Tarvin near Chester; which has 
been since transferred to the bishop of that dio¬ 
cese by the Ecclesiastical Commission, while the 
bishop of Lichfield has got a living in the diocese 
of Lincoln instead. 

His visitation Charges. 


He published none of his Visitation Charges; 
and scarcely ever touched upon what are called 
‘ the great questions of the day ’ in them. Such 
subjects are generally controversial; and he ab¬ 
horred controversy. Neither would his modesty 
allow him to believe that he was one of the very 
few prelates whose judgement carried any weight; 
pot of course with partisans, who only want to 
hear their own opinions echoed from a bishop’s 
seat, but with those who want a guide, whose 
wisdom and learning and honesty and moderation 
they can trust. His Charges.were therefore gene¬ 
rally confined to matters of diocesan interest, with 
a few short allusions to any public measures which 
concerned the Church. 

In 1861 I see that he remarked on some defects 
of the ‘ Revised Code,’ by which the Privy Council 
grants to. schools were to be regulated, which 
withdrew all encouragement to religious educa¬ 
tion ; because the ‘ results ’ to which the payment 
was to be proportioned were only ‘proficiency in 
‘reading, writing, and arithmetic,’ and the In¬ 
spectors were only to report thereon. On that 
point there was little division of opinion among 
the clergy; although it was full time that some 
alteration should be made in the terms on which 
schoolmasters were paid, and in the position they 

78 The Privy Council on education. 
_ 1 __ 

were assuming; and that payment should bear 
some relation to the work done. But the Privy 
Council seems chronically unhappy in its rela¬ 
tions with those on whom the responsibility 
and trouble of school management practically 
falls. And the permanence of these unhappy 
relations proves that they are not (as was once 
supposed) entirely the fault of the particular Vice- 
President under whom the revised code came 
in, but of a more permanent and invisible autho¬ 
rity. Already the builders of large and costly 
schools have learnt to consider the grants which 
they might get from the Privy Council too dear 
to purchase at the price of being controlled by 
the dictation of an irresponsible official, who calls 
himself ‘ My Lords,’ and arbitrarily dictates one 
form of building or arrangement this year, and 
perhaps a different one the next, and both very 
likely worse than other people’s experience sug¬ 
gests or local circumstances prescribe ; for grants 
are refused even where it is physically impossible 
to satisfy these arbitrary requirements. I know 
of two such cases as these within 7 miles.. It is 
time that this tyranny should be put down; to 
which end exposure is the first step. 

On one very important point the bishop agreed 
with the Privy Council; for I have heard him 

His views of church rates. 

79 ' 

advise his clergy never to insist on the learning of 
the Catechism as a condition of children whose 
parents object to it being received into their 

In that same Charge of 1861 he had to speak 
of the rejection of a Bill for abolishing Church 
rates by the Speaker’s casting vote. After stating 
some of the well-known arguments on the subject 
he says: 

‘ I have no hesitation therefore in avowing myself to 
be one of those who would be thankful for a legislative 
measure, which, while it would secure to the Church 
her indisputable and immemorial right of raising rates 
for the sustentation of her fabrics and the maintenance 
of her services, would exempt (expressly or virtually) 
those who do not belong to her communion from con¬ 
tributing to them; and thus take away from them 
all reasonable ground of complaint on this account.’ 

The last Charge he delivered, in 1865,* which 
he began by saying he had not expected at his 
last visitation ‘ to be permitted to meet his clergy 
so again,’ is the only one which treats of any 
theological question at much length. It will be 
neither uninteresting nor unprofitable to set forth 

* By the custom of the diocese of Lichfield Visitations are 
quadrennial; not triennial, as in most dioceses. 

8 o 

His last charge ; 

his opinions, and the reasons for them, on the two 
allied subjects of Scepticism and the Inspiration 
of the Bible, as delivered in that Charge. 

* It has been said, with relation to these our days, 
that Christianity is on its trial. This is true: but it 
is no new truth. Christianity has been on its trial 
ever since it first appeared in the world. It was sub¬ 
jected first to a material, and then to an intellectual 
and moral trial; a cruel trial once, and a subtle trial 
afterwards. And to this last-mentioned trial it will 
continue to be subjected, so long as Christ’s Church 
shall be * militant here on earth.’ How it has come 
forth from its varied trials of 18.centuries we know ; 
and as to the issue of its future trials we have no fears. 
But while the body lives many of its members may 
die ; so many, that ‘ the life of faith ’ may remain only 
in a few. .... What the fruits of this would be we 
know too well. Full of sad truth are the words of 
Barrow, ‘ If the causes of all the sin and all the mis- 
‘ chief in the world were carefully sought, we should 
‘ find the chief of all to be infidelity, either total or 
‘ gradual.’ .... 

Scepticism is nothing new. It is founded on the 
right which men have to inquire; and this right being 
admitted, no sufficient reason can be given why it 
should not be exercised, and that too openly, pro¬ 
vided that the exercise of it be modest and temperate. 

on Scepticism. 


It is upon the whole better that scepticism should 
speak out An open foe is less dangerous than a 
hidden one. Truth must prevail in the end. This 
view of the case, in accordance as it is with reason, 
and with our love of truth, is confirmed to us by the 
highest authority. As the religion of Christ, being 
addressed to reasonable beings, is a reasonable re¬ 
ligion, and one that requires from its adherents a 
‘reasonable service,’ so it has, from the very begin¬ 
ning, claimed to be received upon reasonable evidence 
of its having come from God. Our Lord appealed 
both to the understandings and ( to the senses of his 

Every intelligent and well educated Christian, and 
especially every Minister of the Church in these days 
of knowledge, widely spread, and therefore superficial 
knowledge, ought, according to an Apostle’s precept, 
to ‘be ready always to give an answer,’ on fitting 
occasions, to every one that ‘ asketh him a reason of 
the hope that is in him.’ I do not mean that we 
must all be prepared to answer at once every par¬ 
ticular objection which the unbeliever may advance. 
It is of the general grounds upon which our faith rests 
that I now speak; and this, as it seems to me, we 
should be ready and .able to maintain ; and that too, 
as St. Peter says, against ‘ every one,’ for the challenge 
may come from a quarter whence we least expect it. 
Within my own parochial experience I have known 


His last Charge ; 

it to come, more than once, from persons belonging 
to the class who get their daily bread by the labour 
of their hands. We should be prepared, at least, to 
show that Christianity cannot be rejected without 
doing manifest violence to reason, and setting aside 
the acknowledged laws of evidence ; in a word—and 
this is the main point—that the difficulties of unbelief 
are greater than those of belief. 

How hard, for example, is it to believe that Christi¬ 
anity, brought as it was into existence, and for a long 
time fostered by the weakest human instruments, and 
having had to contend with the mightiest opposition, 
could now, after the lapse of more than 1800 years, 
be the most influential power in the world, if it were 
nothing more than an idle tale or a wicked imposture. 

But the readiness and ability thus required of us 
must be the result of knowledge ; and knowledge can¬ 
not be acquired without study. A clergyman, if he 
would meet the requirements of his office, must be 
more or less a student, and one object of his study 
should be to make himself sufficiently master of the 
reasons by which assurance may be given that neither 
his preaching nor his hearers’ faith is vain. As on all 
religious subjects, so on this, to which indeed they 
must all be referred, he should be before and not 
behind his flock. He should prove himself qualified 
to be their instructor as well as their example, their 
prophet, if I may so speak, as well as their priest. 

On Inspiration. 83 

Nearly akin to this subject, and intimately con¬ 
nected with it, is another which has been much dis¬ 
cussed of late, and which has caused uneasiness to 
many believers—the question of the Inspiration of 
the Scriptures.. Our faith does not come to us as 
the faith of the first believers came to them—from 
hearing or from seeing ; it comes to us upon written 
assurance. Unless therefore that written assurance is 
guaranteed to us by divine authority, we can have 
no reasonable expectation of the blessing declared to 
belong to ‘them that have not seen and yet have 
believed.’ There are two questions relating to this 
subject as to which it is of exceeding importance that 
we should be satisfied ourselves, and be able to satisfy 
others: the first, whether the books which we include 
in the Canon of Scripture were written under an in¬ 
spiration of God peculiarly their own ; the second, 
what is the extent of that inspiration. 

It has been maintained that the writers of Scripture 
are not inspired otherwise than as men of genius, men 
endued with extraordinary powers of conception or 
expression, great poets or orators, are said to be in¬ 
spired, or in any higher sense than that in which 
Cicero said (and it was a noble saying for a heathen) 
that ‘no man was ever a great man without some 
divine inspiration.’ 

If this be so, that quality of the Scriptures which 
causes us to distinguish them by the title the Scrip- 

g 2 

8 4 

His last Charge ; 


tures, the Bible, the Book of Books, is gone. They 
are indeed no longer the Holy Scripture, in a sense 
in which the epithet may not be applied to other pro¬ 
ductions. The divine Teacher himself no longer 
speaks to us ‘ as never man spakehe ceases to 
teach ‘ as one having authority and not as the Scribes.’ 
We may learn of him or not, we may hear or forbear, 
as may seem to us best. 

Let us see then how this matter stands in Vespect 
to the claim to special divine inspirations advanced 
by the writers themselves. 

And first with regard to the writers of the Old 
Testament. I have no need to remind you how often. 
Moses declares that he received commandments and 
instructions directly from God ; or how plainly David 
says ‘ the Spirit of the Lord spake by him, and that 
the Lord’s word was in his tongue or how continual 
the language of the Prophets, especially of the greater 
Prophets, is ‘Thus saith the Lord;’ ‘The word_of 
the Lord came unto me , ‘ Hear ye the word of the 

To which inspiration of the writers of the Old 
Testament unequivocal witness is borne by those of 
the New, when they say that ‘God at sundry times 
and in divers manners, spake in time past unto the 
fathers by the prophets:’ that ‘prophecy came not in 
old time by the will "of man, but holy men of God 
spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.’ 

On Inspiration. 


That * the spirit of Christ was in those prophets when, 
it testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ, and the 
glory that should followand yet more broadly, that 
‘ All Scripture—these Scriptures, that is to say, of 
the Old Testament—is given by inspiration of God.’ 

I advert to this last passage the rather because (as 
you know) it has been otherwise rendered, and an 
attempt to weaken its force has been made thereby. 
I have no doubt as to the preferableness of our own 
translation ; but if even the other were adopted, the 
Apostle’s declaration, that (some) Scripture, the Scrip¬ 
ture of the Old Testament, is.given by inspiration of 
God, would remain untouched.* Not less directly to 
our purpose is the fact that in several instances say¬ 
ings of the Old Testament when quoted in the New 
are referred to as spoken not by the writers whose 
names they bear, but 1 by the Holy Ghost.’ 

But when we are upon the subject of the inspiration 
of the Old Testament no testimony canbe so great, 
so conclusive, as that of our blessed Lord. We find 
him referring his hearers to them *as witnesses of un¬ 
questionable authority. He calls parts of them the 

* It may not be known to merely English readers that the rival 
translation inserts the word is (which is omitted in the original, 
according to the Greek idiom) after, instead of before 6e6nvevaros 
(God-inspired); and thus makes St Paul write this pointless asr 
sertion, ‘ All God-inspired Scripture is also profitable, &c.’ (a Tim. 
>v. 16). But even that would assert that there is such a thing as 
inspiration of the Scriptures. 


His last Charge ; 

commandment of God, the word of God, the Scrip¬ 
ture that cannot be broken, which testified of him, 
and which he came to fulfil. It is impossible to re¬ 
concile a denial of the inspiration of the O. T. with 
these and other such sayings of the Lord Jesus. 
That the question of the authority of the O. T. has 
(as might be expected) difficulties of its own belong¬ 
ing to it, and that these have of late been strongly 
and particularly brought out, you know. You know 
also that most, if not all, of the objections based upon 
them have received particular. and sufficient answers 
from Jewish as well as from Christian pens. But 
even if we were to admit that they cannot all be so 
answered, this should be no stumbling block to our 

Difficulties arising out of parts of the O. T. can 
never unsettle the general foundation of truth upon 
which, as a whole, it rests. Nor must we ever forget 
that the credibility of the former division of the 
sacred volume is inseparably bound up with that of 
the latter. We cannot admit the inspiration of the 
New Testament and reject that of the Old. They 
occupy common ground and must stand or fall 

But it is of the writers of the New Testament more 
particularly that it has been contended that they do 
not claim any direct inspiration for themselves. If this 
were so, those of them at least who were attendants 

On Inspiration. . 


upon the ministry of their Lord would shew a great 
want of confidence in his promise to them that the 
Spirit of truth, whom he * would send unto them from 
the Father, should guide them into all truthand 
again, that it should not be they that should speak, 
but the Spirit of their Father, the Holy Ghost. 

- Of the general fulfilment of this promise we have 
a clear record in the Acts of the Apostles: where the 
first preachers of the Gospel are represented as men 
‘ filled with the Holy Ghostand as on several occa¬ 
sions, receiving illumination, and direction, and en¬ 
couragement, directly from Heaven. 

In respect however of the Apostolical Epistles 
especially, it is asserted that the authors of them do 
not profess to write under divine Inspiration. We 
may well wonder at the assertion when we call to 
■mind sayings of the Apostle Paul such as these, ‘ We 
speak not in the words which man’s wisdom teacheth, 
but which the Holy Ghost teacheth,’ or, * He that 
despiseth, despiseth not man, but God, who hath also 
given unto us his Holy Spirit"or again, * For this 
cause thank we God without ceasing, because, when 
ye received the word of God which ye heard of us, 
ye received it not as the word of men, but as it is in 
truth, the word of God, which effectually worketh also 
in them that believe.’ It is worthy of particular 
hotice also, that while, in one chapter of the first 
Epistle tt> the Corinthians St. Paul says, ‘If any 


His last Charge ; 

\ _ 

think himself to be a prophet, or spiritual, let him 
acknowledge that the things that I write unto you are 
the commandments of the Lord,’ in another chapter of 
the same Epistle he clearly distinguishes between 
what he says from himself, and what he says from 
the Lord. 

Well then, we find the Apostles expressly claiming 
a supernatural and divine inspiration for themselves, 
and we freely admit the claim. We admit it not 
only because they cannot, with any show of reason, 
be regarded as impostors on the one hand, or fanatics 
on the other; but also because it is strongly con¬ 
firmed by the character of their writings, manifestly 
treating, as they do, of subjects far beyond the reach 
of merely human knowledge or conception, and won¬ 
derfully as they have fed the Church of Christ with 
heavenly food, from the days in which they were first* 
given to it until now. 

What then, it is natural and important to ask, was 
the influence of the Spirit of God upon the writers of 
Holy Scripture ? In what sense were they, as St 
John speaks in the Revelation, ‘in the Spirit’? We 
would reverently answer the question thus:—The. 
work of the Holy Ghost upon these writers was to 
direct them in the employment of their natural gifts 
and characters, so that they should write, each in his 
own manner, the things which the Spirit would have 
them write for the instruction and edification of the 

On Inspiration. 


Church. It is still St. Paul and St. Peter and St John 
that speak to us, but "it is God that speaks to us 
through them. In one sense it is man’s word, in 
another it is God that we hear from them : much as 
St Paul, speaking of his new life in Christ, says ‘ I 
live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me,’ 

There are then, if we may so speak, two elements 
in Holy Scripture: the human and the divine. To 
the* human element belong the style and manner of 
its several parts, and these vary with the natural 
qualities and characters of the writers. The style 
of the Proverbs is not such*as that of the Psalms; 
nor is the manner of the Epistles of St John or St, 
James such as that of the Epistles of St Paul. To 
the divine element belongs the substance of the teach¬ 
ing. And this is substantially the same through 
whomsoever it is communicated. 

Again, so far as the human element went, these 
writers were in conformity with the ages in which 
they lived. By the divine element they were raised 
above their own times and belonged to all times. 
Where the divine element ends and the human be- 
’ gins, we cannot determine ; nor is it necessary for the 
purpose of our Christian life that we should. That 
these two elements are undistinguishably mixed to¬ 
gether in the sacred volume should not be ‘ counted 
as a strange thing,’ for it is quite in keeping with 
other things in religion. It is analogous to the great 

9 ° 

His views vn Inspiration. 

truth that it is * God that worketh in us both to will 
and to do of his good pleasurewhile, in the very 
same sentence, we are commanded to ‘ work out our 
own salvation.’ It is analogous also to the established 
constitution and course of nature, or to speak more 
correctly, of God’s moral government of the world, 
where God and man work together in a way which 
our dark seeing cannot discern, but with an effect of 
which religious and good men know and feel ‘the 

It may possibly be said that there is nothing 
very new in all this. The bishop would have 
replied that he should be sorry if there were. He 
did not believe in discoveries in religion, any more 
than in ‘ developements of doctrine,’ or in that 
newly-invented Christianity which takes delight 
in discarding and treating with scorn all the re¬ 
ceived evidences of religion, and yet professes to 
believe, on some transcendental grounds beyond 
the understanding of ordinary men, that Chris¬ 
tianity is not wholly an imposture, or the Bible 
quite on a level with the Koran or the book of’ 
Mormon, or Homer and Shakspeare, though a 
great deal of it is (in the opinion of these Chris¬ 
tians) no better than a forgery. 

Moreover it must be remembered that the 
clergy whom a bishop addresses at a visitation 

Ignorance imputed to Christ. 


cannot be supposed to be familiar with .every 
argument that has been advanced before. Even 
if they are, it is convenient to have at least one 
class of reasons gathered up for them, as it were 
into a quiver, by a master such as this. 

If it be said that he has left the objections of 
avowed infidelity to the inspiration of the Scrip¬ 
tures untouched, he would have answered that he 

• ' 

was not addressing infidels, but those who neces¬ 
sarily—or at any rate presumably, profess a general 
belief in them, if nothing more, and in the divine 
authority of our Lord; perhaps we may still say, in 
his infallibility, though we know there is a bishop 
who has found it logically necessary to deny even 
that in order to maintain his other theories. And 
our bishop was pointing out to his clergy that 
there is really no middle course between accepting 
the substantial, though not verbal inspiration of 
the Bible, and a substantial rejection of the Word 
of God, in both senses of that phrase. 

He has left a few words on this subject, of our 
Lord’s alleged ignorance, in a letter to Mr. Harvey; 

' Like Benson [formerly Master of the Temple], I 
do not see how we can interpret Mark xiii. 32 other¬ 
wise than literally [But of that day and hour knoweth 
no man, no not the angels which are in heaven, neither 


A letter about Popery. 

the Son, but the Father]. We must leave the mystery 
as we find it. But there is no parallel whatever 
between this and our Lord’s ‘ ignorance/ imputed to 
him by Colenso, of the author of the Pentateuch ; or 
rather, of his being in positive error when he said that 
Moses wrote it’ 

As I am referring to that letter I go on to 
quote what he says on a different, but by np 
means unimportant question. 

‘ I hope I am as good a protestant as Benson ; for 
I have very strong feelings and opinions as to the false 
doctrines and superstition and imposture of Popery. 
It is not well that we should have well nigh given up 
the use of the old name, for it is expressive of the 
thing, especially in days when Popes establish new 
doctrines. Words are not only expressive of opinions 
and feelings, but they lead men to form opinions and 
to have feelings in matters of grave moment. .... But 
I do not think the Church of England generally is 
declining into ‘ ceremonialism/ certainly not into 
submission to ' priestly authority/ except in the case 
of some ‘ silly women led captive.’ 

‘Yours &c. 

• J . Lichfield.’ 

The Bishop in Convocation. 




AS I said at the beginning, our bishop did not 
take much part in the proceedings of Convo¬ 
cation. His thoroughly practical mind knew full 
well, and one of his letters (not otherwise material 
to print) says so, that the revival of any power of 
legislation there, even as to the clergy, was not to 
be expected; and he took little interest in mere 
debates. If he happened to be in London when 
the convocation met, he thought it his duty to 
attend sometimes; and when he was there he 
would not sit still and acquiesce in what he dis¬ 
approved. He did his best to save that body 
from involving themselves in a difficulty by 
answering some. of the Bishop of Capetown’s 
questions as to what the church '* of England 
would do in certain contingencies—as if the Con¬ 
vocation of the Province of Canterbury could 
pledge the Church of England to do anything in 
any contingency. 

94 Bishops of Natal and Capetown. 

Much as he disapproved of the bishop of 
Natal’s acts and writings, he warned the Convoca¬ 
tion against passing extreme resolutions against 
him. And though his judgment was not asked 
for about the scheme for consecrating a rival 
bishop, any one who cared to know it had no 
difficulty in learning that nothing could be more 
contrary to his views than setting up two bishops 
really to fight for the same see, by whatever titles 
they might be designated. I never heard him 
condemn the language of any of his brethren so 
strongly as he did the speech of a distinguished 
colonial bishop on the side of bishop Gray at 
the Lambeth or ‘ Pan-Anglican ’ Congress. 

On the other hand he did not forget that no 
decision has been given, in either of bishop 
Colenso’s lawsuits, in favour of the lawfulness 
of his doctrines for one who still professes to 
belong to the Church of England; and that he 
has avowed in one of his books that he himself 
considered his doctrines so contrary to those of 
the Church that he should have resigned his 
bishopric but! for the decision on ‘ Essays and 
Reviews,’ brought about by the* strange pro¬ 
ceedings of another bishop; who engaged in a 
prosecution which he resolved at the same time, 
contrary to all advice, to conduct so as to give 

Bishop:Lonsdale s correspondence. 95 

his opponents every chance of beating him ; for¬ 
getting that if he fought at all he was fighting 
for the Church and not for himself. 

But though our Bishop seldom spoke in public 
on theological questions, he had occasionally to 
deal with them in correspondence: sometimes, 
with clergymen whose extreme opinions he tried 
' to moderate; and sometimes with those who con¬ 
sulted him on difficulties of their own about the 
Prayer book, and whom he spared no pains to 
satisfy. Occasionally he appears to have succeeded, 
for a time at least; but I am afraid such labour is 
generally thrown away in the end, and that one 
whose scruples survive his own reading of books is 
not likely to be permanently convinced by the 
ablest correspondent. Before giving a few out of 
a batch of letters of the latter kind, which have 
been sent to us (of course none of the former have 
been) I insert two others, which rather relate to 
the questions discussed in the charge quoted in 
the last chapter. The first is a letter to the 
Dowager Lady Hatherton, formerly Mrs. Daven¬ 

‘ Lichfield, 21 March 1851. 

‘ My dear Mrs. Davenport,— .... I have read 
the number of The Reasoner, which I return : though 
I have little leisure for such, or any reading. The 


His correspondence. 

thoughts which it has awakened in me, and the con¬ 
sideration of the number of readers which such pub¬ 
lications have in our great towns, are anything but 
comfortable. For though I am by no means disposed 
to think hardly of those who hold such opinions, as 
though they were not held Honestly and in the love 
of truth (which used to be imputed to them en masse 
without scruple), I do not see' to what such publica¬ 
tions as the Reasoner can tend but a complete un¬ 
fixedness of views and opinions. 

* These men cannot settle without Revelation ques¬ 
tions which the great and honest reasoners of antiquity 
could not settle. And they must, according to Milton’s 
often quoted line, ‘find no end, in wandering mazes 
lost.’ But I must not occupy your time with such 
observations as these. 

* Believe me &c. 

* J. Lichfield.’ 

Obvious as that remark is—when it has been 
made—that without Revelation we can know no 
more of spiritual things than the reasoners of 
antiquity, how few of the spiritual reformers of 
these times remember it. I was assured the other 
day by one of them that * the tyrants of the age 
are the letter of the Bible and the doctrine of the 
Atonement,’ and that he ‘preached the love of God 
and man as the only true religion.’ So did some 

on some theological questions. 


One else. But without ‘ the letter of the Bible,’ 
and therefore the doctrine of the Atonement, how 
wpuld that preacher against their * tyranny’ have 
ever known that there was any love of God, or 
any God at all, more than Cicero or ‘ the men of 
Athens ’ ? Profane no less than sacred history testi¬ 
fies that ‘the world by wisdom knew not God.’ 

* 37 Conduit Street, 10 July 1856. 

* My dear Harvey, —Thanks’ for your kind note. 
It is very pleasant to find that Le Bas * has not lost 
his fun, but is still, not kicking* but prancing, as play¬ 
fully as ever. I have a real respect for him. 

* Mr. Macnaught’s attack on the inspiration of the 
Scriptures will probably pass away as other such 
attacks have done, and do little harm. There is, if I 
may so speak, a kind of instinctive feeling in serious 
readers of Scripture, which will not allow them to 
regard its inspiration as no more than that of Homer 
or Shakspeare. 

‘ Nevertheless if you can find an able' man to answer 
Mr. M. it will be well. But the subject has been 
dealt with by certain persons upon ground that ap¬ 
pears to me quite untenable, and to lay us open to 
the infidel’s attacks. 

‘J. Lichfield.’ 

* The Rev. C. W. Le Bas, formerly Principal of Hayleybury 
College, who must then have been not far from eighty. The same 
flight certainly be said of the bishop when he was quite as old. 



His opinion about 

*—t—~ ~ _:_ 

I do not know what books he alluded to in the 
last sentence of this letter: probably to some of 
the injudicious assertions of the ‘ verbal inspira¬ 
tion’ of the Bible, going far beyond the kind of 
inspiration claimed for it in the Charge just now 
quoted, and inconsistent’ with the fact of an 
enormous number of different readings: though, 
as he used fo remark, there is. no’instance 1 of 
a variation of reading by which any doctrinal 
question is affected. It is hardly necessary £6 say 
that he agreed with all scholars worth naming' in 
considering the verse I John v. 7 spurious, 1 but 
at the same time Wholly unimportant as to the 
doctrine bf the Trinity. I . 1 > r 

I am requested by one of his friends 1 to mention 
that he sometimes said that many verses in dhe 
New Testament (the Old he could hot judge ‘of 
for himself) might be translated so as to give the 
meaning of the original more exactly than they 
do in our version; therein agreeing With the 
archbishop of Dublin, whose book on that subject 
he had read. And as an abstract proposition, I 
suppose this is undisputed, though the archbishop 
warns us that many of the alleged errors are only 
errors of modern half educated readers, not of the 
bid translators. But it must not be concluded that 
the bishop was prepared to fun the risks of trusting 

the translation of the Bible. 


the English Bible to a committee of retranslation. 
It did not need his critical and refined taste in 
English composition to recognise the fact that 
the art which was possessed by the men who did 
that work has perished. That edifice, like the 
more material edifices of still earlier times, may be 
pulled down and replaced by another, with stones 
more accurately worked—and with all the life 
gone out of it; but it cannot be rebuilt. 

The same archbishop says most truly, ‘ When 
we read what manner of ,<y:ufF .is offered to us in 
exchange for the language of our authorised 
version, we learn to prize it more highly than 
ever.’ He would have a list of such emendations 
as a body of learned men may agree on,—‘avoiding 
all luxury of emendation, and abstaining from all 
that is not of primary necessity,’ published by 
itself— i.e. not as retranslation—and left to public 
judgement for a time, and finally adopted by 
authority if it received general approval; so that 
‘ all forcing of alterations might be avoided.’ I 
have not the means of saying whether bishop 
Lonsdale concurred in this plan. He was not 
given to speaking of plans for doing anything 
until they were formally proposed to him. But it 
Would probably have satisfied him as a via media, 
and a way of peace, between leaving all errors un- 


Correspondence about 

corrected, and the far greater evil of vainljr 
attempting to introduce a new and inferior Bible 
by force, in the place of that which it is sometimes' 
forgotten is the Bible of ^Protestants wherever in 
the world the English tongue prevails, and which 
has been called by good judges—not of the 
English Church only—the grandest and the best 
translation that the world has ever seen. Unfor¬ 
tunately, not even the best specimens of retransla¬ 
tion or emendation that have been offered to us 
either keep within archbishop Trench’s limits, or 
give the least assurance that the language of the> 
authorised version would not be irreparably- 

I publish the following letters in answer,to some 1 
clerical difficulties about the Prayer book rather 
as illustrating the bishop’s character and opinions 
than for anything novel in the arguments, for 
novelty is not to be expected on such a subject. 
The whole correspondence, which went on at 
intervals for some years, is much too long to print. 
The best introduction to it is *the letter of the 
clergyman wno has sent it to us. ■ 

‘ Tonbridge Wells, 7 Nov. 1867. 

‘DEAR Sir,— Having observed in the Guardian 
a notice of your wish' that any letters of your father’s 
likely to be interesting might be forwarded to you, 

religious difficulties. 


I have sent you some that I think may be so, partly 
from their shewing the deep sympathy he manifested 
for his clergy in their trials, and partly from their 
shewing the calin and wise opinions he held respect¬ 
ing some of the points of doctrine, which of late have 
been agitating .so many minds in our Church. 

* I can never forget the deep sympathy he shewed 
to myself, nor the patient manner he bore with me, 
when time after time I used to write to him respect¬ 
ing certain scruples I hack He quite won my heart; 
and the feeling I had towards him was not merely 
respect to him, as my Bishop, but also one of love, 
as i to a Spiritual father. Sorrowing with you for 
the sad loss you have sustained in his being taken 
from you, 

‘ I am; &c. 

‘The Rev. James Lonsdale.’ 

It will be ^observed from the Bishop’s first letter 
that the correspondence began anonymously, un¬ 
der an A. B. signature. And yet he did his best 
to satisfy even an anonymous writer cf objections 
to the Prayer book, taking the trouble to consult 
one of Ills brethren besides. They were in truth 
bon 4 fide conscientious difficulties; but they 
might have been something else. But it never 
occurred to him to suspect men’s motives, or to 



Correspondence about 

hold his hand from trying to do good, because 
mischief might possibly be intended. He was 
however cautious enough to enjoin that his letter 
should be kept private: the reason for that privacy 
exists no longer. 

* 39 Harley Street, London, a May 1844J 
‘ Reverend and dear Sir, —Your letter, without 
date, reached me yesterday ; and I can assure you, 
that I sympathize sincerely with you in the honest 
scruples which dictated it; and shall have real plea¬ 
sure, if I can be instrumental towards the removal 
of them. Nor, I am thankful to say, do I see any 
obstacle in the way of this happy result: for there 
appears to me no reason why, as a Minister of the 
Church of England, you should feel yourself at all 
called upon to go beyond the view of Baptismal Re¬ 
generation which is stated by Wall in the passage 
quoted by you. How this can be deemed * a rational¬ 
istic view,’ I am at a loss to conceive. Neither can 
I see how any man can take -upon himself to say 
what ‘ the formularies of the Church imply! We can 
only judge of what is expressed. Of course, as you 
say, different constructions may be put upon expres¬ 
sions, where the Church has not explained them: and 
I think (as I have said already) that the construction 
put upon the language of the Church in the instance 
before us by Wall is rational (not rationalistic), as 
well as Scriptural: and is in agreement with Articles 

religions difficulties. 

io 3 

16 and 27. Though I had no doubt in my own mind 
upon the matter, I thought it better, before answering 
your letter, to consult a very learned and judicious 
Bishop respecting it, and prie who has given his par¬ 
ticular attention to matters' of doctrine ; and I am 
happy to inform you that he sees the matter (having 
read your letter) exactly in the same light as I do. 

‘I trust therefore that you will dispossess your mind 
'of the scruples by which you have been disquieted; 
and, under‘God’s blessing, will go on your way re¬ 

‘ Believe me, 

‘ Reverend and dear Sir, 

♦ Your very faithful servant, , 

The Reverend A: B. 

I request you to consider this as quite a private 
^communication. I felt that there was no need for me 
’to write more at length : and my diocesan correspond¬ 
ence is so overwhelming, that I am glad to avoid all 
fairly avoidable writing.’ 

The next letter in the same correspondence 
‘resumed which is material to print is this : 

( 1 Eccleshall, 8 Nov. 1847. 

My DEAR SIR,—I hope you have not attributed 
m y delay in answering your letter to anything ap- 


Correspondence about . 

proaching to indifference as to the-subject of it. The 
truth is that it .reached me with very many others 
• when I was engaged in a circuit of Church business-, 
from place to place, which occupied almost all my 
time, and gave me little leisure.,for writing. 

‘Your letter has given me great pain; for I fear 
that I shall not have it in my power to add anything 
material to my answer,, unsatisfactory to you as it 
has proved, to your former letter upon the same 

‘ That • the Church, of England declares Regene¬ 
ration to take place in Baptism you. sep, and confess: 
and that any one should take £1 contrary view of her 
language 'in this respect, plain’as. it is, has always 
been to me a source of wonder. 

‘ But it appears to me that the same Church no where 
exactly defines what she means by Regeneration : 
and therefore I conceive that a liberty is here allowed 
to her members, and to her ministers also. What 
writers belonging to her communion may say upon 
the subject, in productions not constituting part of 
her accredited formularies, must, >1 think, be put 
wholly out of the question ; however deservedly great 
the reputation of those writers maybe. You yourself 
indeed quote Hooker and Comber only as agreeing 
with the Articles and Liturgy. 

* You refer to Article 25 ; which asserts that * Sacra¬ 
ments ordained of Christ be not only badges or tokens 

religious difficulties. 105 

of Christian men’s profession, but rather they be cer¬ 
tain sure witnesses and effectual signs of grace and 
God’s good will towards us, by the which he doth 
work invisibly in us, but doth not only quicken, but 
also strengthen and confirm our faith in him.’ And 
this agrees with the second answer in the Catechism. 
But neither the one nor the other defines the measure 
of grace given; or presumes to say when it begins, 
or ever ceases to work. 

‘The same remark t will apply, perhaps even more 
strongly, to Article 16 also referred to by you. So 
at least it appears to me. Nor do I see anything in 
the wording of the Baptismal service referred to by 
you, where prayer is made ‘that the |doly Ghost 
may be given, and thanks are afterwards offered, im- 
plying that it' has been given,’ which may not be 
tfcgarded in the same way. 

‘Your scruple as to the giving of the Holy Ghost, 
‘when, as is too often the case, no prayers are really 
offered by* those who bring the child to baptism,’ 
appears to me to be still less one which ought to dis¬ 
quiet you. The Church frames her services through¬ 
out upon the assumption that her worshippers are 
spiritual worshippers : nor is it easy to see how they 
could have been proved otherwise. 

‘ But whatever may be the case with those who bring 
the child to baptism, you at least offer prayers on its 
behalf; and you may fairly presume, or at least must 


106 Correspondence about 

charitably suppose, that other ministers pray likewise, 
and administer the Sacrament in faith. And is it not 
reasonable to hope that God will accept the child for 
the one that does well, and not reject it for the others 
that do ill: though even of these perhaps one ought 
hardly to say with confidence that they are altogether 
faithless and godless, and offer no prayers in their 
hearts, when they bring the child to baptismj - 

‘As to your ‘not being quite certaini that our 
Saviour’s language in John iii. 5 [‘Except a man 
be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter 
into the kingdom of God’j relates to Baptism 'r (for 
I do not think it. necessary to showrthat it relates 
only to Baptism), surely the fact admitted by (yourself, 
that ‘ it seems always to have been so understood in 
the early days of the Church,’ is abundantly sufficient 
to justify the Church of England in so applying it, at 
the beginhing of her baptismal service ; not to men¬ 
tion that, in my humble opinion, the other interpreta¬ 
tions of it involve a straining of the ^ language, to 
which they who would explain away the ‘hard 
sayings ’ of Scripture (among whom I need not say 
I am very far from classing you) too often have had 
recourse. , 

‘ I am sure you will not suspect me of wishing you 
to put any violence upon your conscience, by remain¬ 
ing a minister (or a member, for I suppose you will 
cease to be one if you cease to be other), of a Church 

religious difficulties. 107' 

which appears to you not to teach her children * as 
the truth is in Jesus.’ But I do earnestly entreat you 
not to forsake the Church in which you were born, 
and baptized, and bred, and have ministered, without 
being fully persuaded, as far as you can be, by con¬ 
sideration and prayer, and advice more weighty, and 
not less disinterested, than mine, that your conscience 
is rightly informed. 

‘When you shall have left this ark (though I am 
yet unwilling to anij^ipate this), it is impossible to 
say whither you may wander, or where you will find 
rest. The great Milton left it; and ended in finding 
no sect of Christians with whom he could hold com¬ 

‘ Believe me, my dear Sir, 

‘ Yours very faithfully, 

* J. Lichfield.’ 

The clergyman’s scruples seem to have been 
quieted for the time, but they revived, or new ones 
arose, after some years, and the correspondence 
was again resumed. The following is the most 
important of the Bishop’s part of it: 

‘ Ecclesiiall, 19 Oct 1864. 

‘ My DEAR Mr. - .—Your letter of the 17th has 

not reached Eccleshall till this afternoon. . . . 

‘ I agree with you in thinking it a happy thing that 
a modification in the declarations required from the 
clergy is likely to take place [by 28 & 29 Vic. c. 122]. 


Correspondence about 

‘But all experience seems to me to shew that' 
Articles of Faith are (humanly speaking) necessary 
for the preservation of sound doctrine in the Church. 

‘ About art alteration of the Burial service I have 
heard much, and 1 read much, and thought much. I 
wish I could say I had come to a coriclusion r satis¬ 
factory to my own’ j mind upon , the subject. I have 
gathered the opinions of> the clergy of this diocese 
through the Rural, Deans ; and I find that about two 
thirds of them .are opposed to any change. 

‘ I admit the weight of your argument that no 
doctrine would be involved in the change. But there 
is a widely prevailing persuasion - that a change, in 
this service would be followed by a demand for 
change in others. The case appears to me to be one 
of great difficulty. 

‘I am grateful for the kindness of your letter, and 
in particular for your inquiries after my health. T 
have great reason to be thankful for its present state. 
But I am far from being ' as strong and well as when _ 
we last met.’ 

‘ I am very faithfully yours, 

‘ J. Lichfield.’ 

It must not be inferred From the last sentence 
that his heailth of strength was really failing. He 
w£s sometimes troubled by local ailments, such as 
an eruption on his hands, and others; and' then 

religious difficulties. 


he was desponding about his health; but he was 
never seriously ill, and almost till his Meath he 
used to walk at least an hour a day, and often 
more. The winter before he died he walked to a 
village about three miles from Eccleshall, spent an 
hour there in choosing the site for a school and 
other business, and walked home again. 

The only other letter, of this‘correspondence 
which need be printed is the concluding one, 
which contains some, interesting passages. 

r r 1 

‘ London, 26 June, 1865. 

‘ My DEAR Mr.-, — While I thank you for your 

kind letter of the 24th, I cannot but express my true 
regret at the determination to which you have come 

as to the resumption of your old post at-But 

.you have determined, thoughtfully and honestly, and 
therefore I cannot doubt that ■ you haye determined 
wisely. ,, 

‘Still I cannot but feel that it is a loss to the 
Church not to have the services of a minister whose 
faith in it, by his own acknowledgement, is on the 
increase rather than the decrease. 

‘But besides your doctrinal scruples, which seem to 
be less than they were, you have, it. appears, personal 
and domestic reasons for not returning to beautiful* 
but not warm,--. 

‘ Your admission that the doctrine of Baptismal 

HO Correspondence about 

Regeneration has been the doctrine' of ,the Church' in 
one sense*or another from the earliest days, and that 
you think it could not, be, removed rightly from the 
Prayer bo,ok; is important _ You are a lover of truth. 

‘I rejoice with you at the relaxation of clerical 
subscription,-though it is more apparent than real. 
The subscription will' in substance 1 be what it was 
before. [But it satisfies many who were hot satisfied 

* I have jread every word of Newman’s Apologia 
with great interest, and so far as the man is concerned, 
with great pleasure. But it seems to mq. a-very in¬ 
conclusive book. I am not afraid of its making any 
man a Romanist' 

‘ I cannot think that the Romanists, like the book. 
It is far too liberal, and allows far too much to our 
Church, which it admits to have the claim of anti¬ 
quity, to please them. 

‘As to the doctrine that the church has-any infal¬ 
lible head upon earth, it must be set down either to 
enthusiasm or politic invention. It was never appealed 
to (as you have said), because never thought of, in the 
differences of Apostolic days; and (as you say again) 
it has no analogy, any more than any Scripture, in 
its favour. It would be convenient to have an infal¬ 
lible Sovereign, or an infallible Prime Minister. But 
dod has not so ordered matters, either in Church or 

religious difficulties. 


‘ With a grateful sense of the kindness of your ex¬ 
pressions towards myself, and with all good'wishes,* 

* I am, dear Mr. ; -•, 

1 ‘ ‘ Very sincerely yours, 

** » •» 

‘J. Lichfield.’ 


Here is a letter to another of his clergy written 
lin similar .circumstances: 

* Eccleshall, 12 Feb. 1864. 

‘My DEAR Mr. ———I would have answered your 
letter before had it been in my power. But multi¬ 
tudes of- letters; a diocesan meeting at Lichfield, &c. 
•&c., have prevented me. 

‘ I wish I could now answer it to your, or I may 
say,'to my own satisfaction. 

- ‘ I truly sympathise with you in your perplexity, and 
Hhe more So because I do not see how it can be alto¬ 
gether removed. But it does not seem to me to be 
a Sufficient excuse for your retirement from the minis¬ 
try of the Church. Like Abp. Tillotson, and many 
others, I wish we were well rid ,of the damnatory 
Clauses .in the Athanasian Creed, but I see no ground 
for hoping that this will be done. It is the creed not 
bf the Church of England alone. 

‘ The utmost that I can hope is that, as a Commis¬ 
sion for considering the subject of clerical subscription 
has been appointed, some liberty may be given as to 
the sense in which the 8th Article, as well as others, 


Letter about 

may be taken. At present, however, I am inclined to 
think that the Article* may well be understood as only 
asserting *that the doctrine of the Athanasian Creed 
‘ ought thoroughly to be received and "believed, as 
capable of being proved by most certain warrants of 
Holy Scripture.’ 

* This, I am free to confess, is the best solution of 
the difficulty which I can offer. I do not think those 
who forbear to repeat the two damnatory clauses 
when they occur in our Service can be blamed. But 
I admit that this opinion may well be controverted : 
and it is not for me to dictate to your, or any man’s 
conscience. I cannot agree with you in thinking that 
the A. C. excludes, or at least was intended to exclude 
Jews and Turks from salvation; for it was certainly 
framed not against them, but against unorthodox 
Christians. That it was intended to exclude the 
members of the Greek Church I admit with sorrow. 

‘As Holy Scripture makes belief necessary to sal¬ 
vation, it may not unreasonably be concluded that 
unbelief excludes from it. And there is Mark xvi. 
16 directly to the purpose, not to speak of John iii. 
• 18, 36, &c: I do not mean to say that such texts as 
these warrant'us in pronouncing a sentence of corn 

* Bishop Blomfield (see his Life i. 116) expressed the same 
opinion, that ‘ the damnatory clauses are no part of the Christian 
doctrine set forth in the A. C., nor, strictly speaking, part of the 
creed itself; but only a particular form of asserting that the doctrine 
of the creed is true,’ 

The Athanasian creed. 


demnation upon those who refuse a dogmatic defini¬ 
tion of faith, of man’s devising, such as that in the 
A. C. And I quite agree with you in thinking that 
it is ‘an evil heart of unbelief’ that is condemned in 

‘ Believe me, 

‘ Very sincerely yours, 

‘J. Lichfield.’ 

This letter having exhibited his views of ‘ the 
two damnatory clauses ’ of the Athanasian creed— 
but of them only—I add that he never, for some 
years past certainly, said them himself in the 
responses (where alone they occur) at Eccleshall; 
and his silence at those verses must have struck 
the congregation, as his voice was heard all over 
the church. Neither did he, either in the reading 
desk, or at the Table, or in his own seat, conform 
to the practice (for which it is difficult to assign a 
rational ground) of turning his back on the con¬ 
gregation to say any of the creeds. Still less did 
he admire the bowings and stoopings which some 
persons, chiefly of . the female sex (see p. 92), have 
adopted at every Gloria Patri and some other 
places in the service. He just observed the one 
obeisance in the Creeds which is universal; but 
never any more. In these matters his sympathies 
were with the ‘ low churchmen: ’ but by no 


His practice in Church . 


means so in the practice of some of them, of ad¬ 
ministering the elements to many Communicants 
at once, addressed collectively in the plural number. 
For that is by no means a matter of form or con¬ 
venience, but involves a great doctrinal question; 
and therein is entirely different from saying the 
Confirmation prayer over many children at once, 
as • all bishops do of necessity. I have no doubt 
that the plural administration of the Communion 
is illegal, as being contrary both to the explicit 
directions and to the spirit of the Prayer book. 

The following letter to Mr. Harvey shows that 
his old aversion to publishing his sermons was not 
abated by his elevation, and that an almost un¬ 
broken custom of the old Church societies could 
not prevail against it. 

‘ Eccleshall, 39 Oct 1849. 

‘ My dear Harvey,— The Committee and Secre¬ 
taries of S. P. G. are altogether blameless as to the 
absence of any sermon from the Report of this year. 
The fault (if fault there be) is entirely mine. ■ But I 
am sure the omission will do the Society no harm. 
And as the sermon was omitted not many years ago, 

I think a like omission this year may both take away ■ 
the singularity of that instance, and also tend to 
break down the custom of inserting the sermons as a 

Letter about S. P. G. 


matter of course: from which I know not that the 
Society has derived any good. 

*.I should indeed be sorry if you were to withdraw 
your services from the Society. You have most 
abundantly proved your love for it by working hard 
in its cause, and with signal success too. I trust 
you are mistaken in looking despondingly upon its 
prospects. In the diocese, where I have been lately 
attending meetings, as in former years, on its behalf, 
its receipts have nearly doubled in the last five years. 
The party who previously ‘ persecuted ’ you on account 
of your support of it have, almost all of them, been 
forward to help me in supporting it. 

‘ I am truly sorry, my dear friend, to hear of your 
being so poorly. The truth is that you have over¬ 
worked yourself in your parish, and ought long ago to 
have had the permanent assistance to which you have 
now been necessitated to have recourse. But I hope 
it will now be the means, under God’s blessing, of 
your restoration to health. 

‘It is most kind of you to mention my son, the 
Secretary of the National Society, as you have done. 
But you are always kind where I or mine are con¬ 
cerned. . . . Thanks for the sight of Benson’s letter. 
One from him, even though an old one, is a treat. 
I hope his recovery has continued and advanced. 

‘ I do not read any religious reviews now, or news¬ 
papers. The latter, at least, are doing infinite mischief. 

I 1 

116 Letter to Mr. Harvey. 

‘ As to the Cathedrals, it must. I think be admitted 
that they do not serve the Church at all in proportion 
to their riches and their rank. In what way they ntay 
serfe it better, is not an easy problem. Mr. Dawes 
[afterwards Dean of Hereford] has touched upon this 
subject in a pamphlet entitled ‘ Observations on the 
working of the Government scheme of education/ 

'Mrs. Lonsdale returned home with her health de¬ 
cidedly improved by German air and waters, and 
rest, and with her worst symptoms removed. But ■ 
this low damp place,, and the diocesan company, 
which we must have, are now, I grieve to say, telling 
upon her. As to my oWn health I have great cause 
to be thankful. 

‘ Believe me &c. 

‘ J. Lichfield.’ 

The improvement in Mrs. Lonsdale’s health 
was of short duration, as he evidently feared it 
would be. The ‘diocesan company’ and the 
care of a large house had always been too much 
for her; and possibly the dampness of Eccleshall, 
in a valley kept swampy by mill dams, aggravated 
her illness, though it is on the whole a very 
healthy place, on gravel, and singularly free from 
epidemic diseases. The bishop himself and some 
other members of his family had better health 
there than either in London or Lichfield. From 


Mrs. Lonsdale's death. 

the time of the Great Exhibition of 1851, when 
they had, many visitors in London, she grew 
rapidly worse,, and was no longer revived by visits 
to Germany, and died on the 16th of October 
1852 at St. Leonards,'and was buried there, not 
at Eccleshall. The carrying of dead bodies long 
distances to be buried was disapproved, and often. 
derided by the bishop; except where there are 
public reasons for having the religious ceremony 
of the Burial of the .dead performed in some 
particular place, out of consideration for those 
among whom a man of consequence has lived: 
not because it signifies whether he leaves his body 
‘ to be turned into corruption 1 in one place rather 
than another. It seems necessary to remind some 
people that the burial service does not say ‘ We 
therefore commit him —but his body —to the 
ground)’ and that that body will never be his 
again, but another, ‘ a spiritual body.’ 

He disapproved also of contrivances for pre¬ 
serving bodies, contrary to the course of nature. 
Some officious person about the house ordered a 
Jead coffin when he died, but it was sent back 
according to his known wishes. The opinion and . 
the practice of this wise and loving man may 
perhaps do something to check the miserable and 
unchristian superstition of corpse-worship (for it 


His opinions about burial. 

is nothing less) which is inveterate among the 
ignorant, and not unknown among those who 
might be expected to know better. In like man¬ 
ner* he was indifferent and careless about the con¬ 
ventional demonstrations of grief, and sometimes 
laughed at their extravagance; and remarkably 
silent about his own sorrow when it was deep 
and severe. He would have adopted the words 
preached upon his own death by one of his arch¬ 
deacons (Allen). 

‘ True, we cannot help shedding tears when we think 
of the excellences of our loved ones, from whom we 
are separated for a season. But to encourage our¬ 
selves in lamentation and mourning, to set ourselves 
to renew our sorrow, a? if it seemed a kind of debt to 
the dearly loved saints we have lost: this indisposes 
to activity: this tends to hinder submission to God’s 
will: this surely is wrong. Our Lord’s disciples, when 
they were separated from him whom they loved, acted 
very differently, as we read in th^ last two verses of 
St. Luke’s gospel.’ 

Here I may appropriately introduce a letter 
from the bishop to one of his friends, on a death 
in his family. 

, ‘ Eccleshall, 6 April 1865. 

‘ My dear Dr. Kennedy,— Though I am unwill¬ 
ing to obtrude myself upon the depth and sacredness 

Letter to Dr. Kennedy. 


of your sorrow, I cannot refrain from expressing to 
you my true sympathy with you, and your widowed 
daughter, and all around you, in the affliction which it 
has pleased God to lay upon your family. a 

‘ I know indeed the case was one in which you have 
had very little hope for some time past But the 
blow would be felt nevertheless when it actually fell. 
None knows better than you how it is to be borne. 

‘ The truly Christian qualities of the excellent per¬ 
son whom you have lost, his integrity, his kindness, 
his liberality, must indeed, when regarded in an 
earthly point of view, add to the sharpness of your 
sorrow : but, looked at as you and yours will look at 
them, they afford the surest ground for comfort and 
for hope. 

‘Please kindly pardon this intrusion and believe 
me always, 

* Very sincerely yours, 

‘ J. Lichfield.’ 


It has been said of him, by some as a compli¬ 
ment, and by others as a reflection on his character, 
that he had no theological opinions. The letters 
and facts which I have given show clearly enough 
in what sense this is true. He had no such 
theological opinions as prevented him from acting 
cordially with men of any opinions in promoting 
anything that was good, or from Recognising and 


His impartiality. 

admiring all that was good in them, while he was 
fully sensible of their defects, or of their differences 
in opinion from himself. For a time I remember 
it was thought by some persons, of no extreme 
opinions themselves, that he had fallen into the 
hands of that very party with whom it happened 
that he oftenest came into open conflict, and whom 
he had felt from the first that he should have to 
resist. They were deceived, as they afterwards 
confessed, by his determined impartiality. Dr. 
Kennedy truly says in his letter (p. 240) that the 
Bishop’s opinions were those of the old high 
church school, very different from those of the 
new, ‘ but broadened by experience, and inclining 
always to moderation and comprehension.’ 

At other times he was accused by low church¬ 
men of leaning to the opposite party: of which 
many people must have heard him say, no less 
than other bishops, dead and living, that while 
the high-churchmen’s favourite doctrine is the 
duty of obedience, they are the least disposed of 
all people to obey their own bishop in anything 
they do not like. He used to say that he had 
only one high-churchman in the diocese who ever 
submitted to him. He said lately to a person of 
whose knowledge he thought highly, ‘I don’t know 
* what you think of the high-church theology; 

His opinion of high-dmrchism. 


‘ I don’t believe in it a bit.’ I have already given 
his opinion of the modern or ‘ ritualistic ’ develope- 
ment of high-churchism. That of*the earlier days 
* of his episcopate, when it was called * tractarianism,’ 
he thought equally mischievous and wrong, but 
not so purely foolish; and he often spoke of the 
ability and learning of the men of that party in 
contrast to the opposite or calvinistic one; and 
he generally added, ‘ And they are gentlemen.’ 

Here is another of his declarations which has 
been sent to me: ‘I wish people would content 
‘themselves with using the language—the very 
‘ words—of the church of England. Her words 
‘ are very carefully weighed, and are sufficiently 
‘ various to express all we need say, if we honestly 
‘ mean no more and no less than she does'. We 
have seen him laying down the same rulehn one 
of his letters to the clergymen who consulted him 
about their difficulties as to the * meaning ’ of 
some of the formularies of the Church. I need 
hardly add that he strongly disapproved of all new 
declarations of belief in other words than those of 
the Church, as calculated, if not intended, to pro¬ 
duce division, and not unity; and no less, of the 
so called Church societies whose object really is 
to narrow-the limits of the Church. 

I have been obliged to speak of his antipathies 


Address at the reopening of 

to all religious parties, whatever name they as¬ 
sumed for themselves or have received from others. 
It is contrary to almost universal experience that 
a person so opposed to all parties should not be * 
disliked by all, except the moderate men among 
whom he ranks himself; and they, by the nature 
of things, are the quiet men, who give no strong 
expression to their partialities. How then did 
this bishop avoid the usual fate, and acquire as he 
did the affection of those from whose principles 
he differed so widely ? By his sympathy with all 
men, notwithstanding his antipathy to their party 
views or their peculiar principles, provided only 
they were doing good; and by all those qualities 
which I enumerated before, as I believe, with no 

Even in his life a signal expression of the feeling 
of his clergy towards him was manifested, at the 
reopening of the cathedral in October 1861, after 
the restoration of the choir: which had been 
devastated in the last Century by Wyatt the 
‘architect,’ who laid waste also the inside of 
Salisbury and demolished its old bell tower, and 
a great part of Durham, and of Hereford, doing 
worse mischief than the Puritans; for they at any 
rate set up no abominations of their own. Pugin 
said, on visiting one of those cathedrals; ‘Yes, the 

Lichfield Cathedral. 


monster has been here.’ An address was then pre¬ 
sented to the Bishop signed by nearly 800 of his 
clergy—probably by all who were not under some 
disability—assuring him of their affection and 
respect, and of their thankfulness for his fatherly 
kindness, courtesy, accessibility, munificence, cha¬ 
rity; for his constant endeavours to promote peace 
and good will; for his readiness to preach for 
them, and the aid which their parochial institutions 
received thereby ; for the advice which they never 
sought from him in vain, and for the example 
which he set them in his zeal, industry, and self- 
sacrifice in the fulfilment of every duty. He 
answered thus: 

* Mr. Dean, and my Venerable and Reve¬ 
rend Brethren,— You have known me long and 
well; and so I hope that you will not measure by 
my feebleness of expression the strength of the feel¬ 
ing with which I receive your address. 

‘During a period of nearly eighteen years I have 
had constant experience of your kindness—your con¬ 
siderate and indulgent kindness—both individually 
and in a measure collectively, in every part of this 
large and populous diocese. But I was wholly un¬ 
prepared for the public and united manifestation of 
it with which you have now honoured me. 

* There is no relation between man and man more 


His dnsiuer to the address. 

sacred than that which subsists between a Bishop and 
the Clergy of his diocese. There is none more happy, 
when it is a relation of mutual confidence and sym¬ 
pathy and affection. That there is such a relation 
between you and me (for I on my. part have no mis¬ 
givings as to it) you have this day given me an assur-, 
ance which I can never forget. 

‘ Deeply, very deeply gratifying is that assurance to 
me. But I cannot separate it from a self-humbling 
consciousness that my endeavours to do my duty 
among you have fallen far short of deserving the 
approval of them which you have been pleased to 
express. I have indeed desired, and have prayed 
to be enabled, to act according to my Lord’s charge 
that he who is chief among you should be your ser¬ 
vant. But I know too well how defective my service 
has been. I have desired to work with you as a 
brother. But I have felt continually my need of your 
brotherly kindness, to cover the manifold imperfections 
of my work. 

‘I thank you, my Reverend Brethren, from my 
heart for this new and special expression of your good 
will towards me. It is not the least among the many 
mercies and blessings for which I have cause to be 
thankful to God. I thank you especially for your 
prayers. And while I earnestly desire a continuance 
of them for me, I pray not less earnestly that God’s 
blessing may be ever with you, in yourselves, in your 
houses, and above all in your ministry.’ 

His preaching,' 


At this same reopening of the cathedral he did 
not preach the sermon. His humility, always 
alive, and too sensitive, had taken alarm that his 
powers were failing, from some, foolish speech, 
probably meaning nothing, which had been as 
foolishly repeated to him; and he desired that 
a more popular orator should be invited. How 
much they were failing may be judged from this 
beautiful answer to the address—to say nothing 
of his six years of active and'Vigorous work since 
that time—and by his very last speeches and 
sermons. Both clergy and laity were deeply dis¬ 
appointed, and those who did not know the cause 
were very naturally offended at their bishop being 
apparently put aside at the reopening of his own 
Cathedral for a stranger, however eminent. I 
have heard him preach .twice, as an old man, on 
great occasions, with some of the first preachers 
of the day, and his sermons were unanimously 
pronounced the best of all. But I shall have to 
say more on this subject in the next chapter. 

Another mark of respect had been designed for 
him both by some of the clergy and of the laity 
of the diocese, in the restoration of his own parish 
church of Eccleshall; where the bishops of the 
see have lived (according to tradition) for exactly 
12 centuries, with few intervals, since the time 

126 Restoration of Eccleshall Church, 


of Chad the first bishop of Lichfield, who had 
resigned the bishopric of York * to avoid a con¬ 
flict, as we can easily believe that this the greatest 
of his successors would have done; and where 
most of the clergy of the diocese had been or¬ 
dained—more than 1200, or half as many again 
as the diocese contains, by bishop Lonsdale him¬ 
self; and now his burial place. It is nearly the 
oldest bishop’s seat in the kingdom; but now, 
it seems, about to be deserted. The church is 
of high architectural character in its original 
Early English features, and of considerable size, 
150 feet long, and no less than 68 feet wide; 
but it had suffered from the usual causes, of 
neglect, foundations undermined by graves, and 
a bad partial restoration 40 years ago, and was 
almost ruinous. 

These circumstances, together with the Bishop’s 
great age, were strong reasons against delaying the 
work, if its completion was to be looked for while 
he was alive to receive the testimonial. It is not 
pleasing to be forced to remember that it was 
delayed, just too long: not by any want of energy 
in those who first stirred in the business, or of 
liberality in those who were locally interested; but 

1 See note, p. 6, and Raine’s Lives of Archbishops of York. 

as a testimonial to him. 


by small jealousies, and insinuations that Eccles- 
hall was seeking , to restore its church at the ex¬ 
pense of the diocese: as if it wese a thing unheard 
of that a church should be restored or rebuilt K 
a tribute of respect to some one who is specially 
connected with it, although his parishioners must 
needs share the benefit. Several such instances 
have occurred, within no great distance, both with 
respect to clergymen and laymen. 

At page 2,50 the inscription* on a tablet in the 
chancel will be seen, which records the doing 
of the work and the motive for it, the regret 
that what was to have been a votive tablet 
has now to be turned into an epitaph, and the 
character of him who lived and laboured and died 
and is buried there. The composition of that, 
and also of the memorial inscription on the wall" 
of the chapel of King’s College London, was in¬ 
trusted to his eldest son, James Lonsdale, a scholar 
of reputation like his own: the variety of the two 
compositions is remarkable. 


His oratorical excellence. 



T have now to speak of some of the general cha- 
racteristics of the bishop in-hi's regular work; 
for I know of no other special events of his life 
which need recording, until near the end of it. ‘ 
I take these in no particular order, but as one may 
happen to suggest another. And first comes 
naturally his work in public. 

. His modesty and his aversion to everything of 
the nature of either controversy or display con¬ 
curred in preventing him from speaking in public 
except when he felt it was his duty. We shall 
see at last a signal example of what he would do 
then. He had consequently not acquired, and 
certainly did not wish for, the character of an 
orator. Yet he spoke everywhere, in large and 
small assemblies alike, with that best and rarest 
kind of eloquence which says all that need be said,, 
in the best language, and yet so easily and simply 
and clearly, that no one takes it for oratory at 

The power of his voice. 129 

the time, and inexperienced hearers fancy that 
they could have said what sounds so very natural 
and obvious themselves. At the end of his open¬ 
ing address at the Wolverhampton church con¬ 
gress, a fortnight before he died, a gentleman was 
heard to say ; ‘ that’s all: there is nothing more 
‘ to be said.’ Even his address to the * working 
‘ men ’ there, short as it was, was considered by 
some who heard it the best of all that were de¬ 
livered. ' His style of speaking’ and writing, like 
that of most great men, especially men of action, 
increased in simplicity as he grew .older. The 
contrast in this respect is evident between his 
early and his late sermons. 

In speaking of his oratory I ought to mention 
his extraordinary power of making himself heard 
in the'largest buildings. I have been reminded 
of several instances of it, but I had Jong ob¬ 
served it myself and learnt the secret of it. .It 
continued to the last day of his life y and people 
remarked at the Wolverhampton congress that 
he was better heard than any other speaker, both 
in the large hall where they met and in the 
opening service at the parish church; where he 
wisely read the 60th chapter of Isaiah, 1 Arise, 
‘ shine, for thy light is come,’ instead of the 7th 
chapter of Tobit, for the first lesson. No one 



Audibility in speaking. 

would have guessed that that soft and pleasant 
voice, which was no louder than any other in 
a room, would swell in a great building into a tone 
which sounded harsh and plaintive for a moment, 
but presently carried every one along with it by its 
surprising clearness and fullness, never rising into 
a shout, and never sinking into indistinctness, even 
of a syllable: and this in places where other 
preachers shouted and laboured in vain through 
half or all their sentences. 

In a great measure this was a natural gift, the 
result of his strong -lungs and large and well 
formed mouth. ^But it was also the fruit of care 
and study. For he was careless about nothing 
that he had to do; and he had learnt, what too 
many of the clergy are behind the old parish 
clerks and young schoolboys in knowing (and in¬ 
deed by a strange perversity the very contrary is 
sometimes taught in early reading lessons), that 
the secret of being heard distinctly is to take 
care to say the last words of each sentence in as 
high a tone as the first. Somebody has truly 
said, * Do you take care of the last words, and the 
‘ first will take care of themselves; and also to 
‘ pronounce the consonants distinctly, leaving the 
‘ vowels to take care of themselves.’ Some men’s 
speaking sounds as if it was all vowels. 

His manner of preaching. 131 

I never saw him use any ‘ action ’ in preaching, 
beyond clasping his hands together, which looked 
rather as if he meant to repress than to display 
any. But his mode of speaking was fervid enough, 
and strikingly more so when he was old than in 
his younger days; his whole style of preaching 
had more of what may be called eloquence then 
than before: a still rarer phenomenon than the 
mere preservation of great powers of mind to such 
an age. It will be' evident to any attentive reader 
of his sermons in this book, separated by an 
interval of 27 years, that it was so. No action 
would have made his preaching .more impressive; 
probably it would have made it less so. He 
knew well enough, that in speaking seriously, and 
for making a lasting impression on men’s reason 
(though not perhaps for merely temporary orato¬ 
rical success) a speaker’s action and manner should 
be less forcible than his words, and his words 
should not outrun his thoughts, but should sug¬ 
gest more than they say: the last of which condi¬ 
tions is exactly the opposite of what most oratory 
exhibits, and most writing nowadays. 

Such a weigher of his words as he was never 
trusted himself to preach extempore, or even from * 
notes, though no one who has heard him speak 
can doubt that he could have done so very well: 

K 2 


His style of preaching. 

I mean, without either hesitation or repetition; 
but' I do not mean, as well as he could write. 
I am not ignorant that his preaching was not .uni¬ 
versally admired. But whose is ? Certainly not 
that of the most ‘ popular ’ preachers, using ithat 
wqrd even in its best sense ; and in its other sense 
it has already become a term of contempt, with all 
thinking men. I need not repeat what I said, at 
p. 125 of bishop Lonsdale’s preaching along with 
other celebrated and younger preachers on some 
great occasions. 

That intensity of language and manner which 
is now, cultivated by a certain school of preachers, 
above the rank of mere empty word-spouters; was 
contrary to his taste and feeling. The word ‘ repose’ 
is an ominous one to use respecting sermons; ibytf: 
in the sense in which it is applied to buildings 
(where it means harmonious proportions,, and 
absence of pretension and gaudiness and straining 
after effect, and yet without , monotony) it may.well 
be said that all this bishop’s writing is remarkable 
for its repose, for the ease with which the best 
words seem to have fallen naturally into the ,be$t 
order, and for a solemn and rhythmical simplicity 
more nearly approaching that of the Prayer hook 
than any other modern writing; in that respect 
not even excepting Dr, Newman’s, of the merits 

The refined style of writing. 


of which I need not speak. I defer saying a few 
words about one of his most public speeches till 
I come to it in its proper place. 

He had also a strong dislike of that style of 
Writing and speaking which avoids calling things 
by their common names, and indeed avoids using 
'cbrtimon words altogether as much as possible; 
Which is erroneously fathered upoh Lichfield’s 
greatest man by those who must have read very 
little of his writings and conversation. Its real 
inventors and patrons are the half-educated writers, 
not of the last century but of this; and those who 
adojtt it disclose at once, not their refinement 
or their knowledge, as they imagine, but something 
very different. The bishop used to call such 
words as ‘commence’ for ‘begin,’ ‘utility’ for 
‘use,’ ‘inexpensive’ for ‘cheap,’ and so forth— 
odious: ‘ practical utility ’ was a double abomina¬ 
tion to him; and I doubt if he ever heard anyone 
talk of ‘ 4 limited income ’ for a small one, without 
asking ‘ whose income is unlimited r ’ We could 
not help wondering what he would have said if he 
had seen that newspaper account of his own 
death which made him say, when he was asked if 
he felt faint, that ‘ he had never before experienced 
a similar sensation; ’ whereas he did say, ‘ I feel 
strange, rtot faintas the original composer of the 

i 34 

His Confirmation addresses. 

paragraph had been doubtless told, but thought 
such language not dignified enough for a great 
scholar and a bishop. The phraseology I am 
describing had acquired a nickname in his family 
which is rather too Saxon and emphatic to be 
printed here. It no more resembles the ‘ classical 
style,’ which it affects to imitate, than wearing 
dirty and bad finery is like dressing well. The 
smallest words are generally the largest in effect. 

His addresses to the children at confirmations 
were always extempore, and very simple. There, as 
everywhere, he had a marvellous faculty of adapt¬ 
ing his words to his audience. Several clergymen 
have said that he was no less a favourite with the 
children, who saw him only once or twice perhaps 
in their lives, in a school and at a confirmation, 
than he was with their elders. 

His numerous and yearly increasing confirma¬ 
tions continually increased his labour; and though 
it was labour of a merely ministerial kind, it cur¬ 
tailed his time for other work. It has been sug¬ 
gested by high authority that confirmations might 
well be performed, and that they were performed in 
early times, by clergymen below the episcopal order. 
But that change is not likely to be made, and it 
would reduce the number of candidates enor¬ 
mously. As the bishop grew old he gave up 

His encouragement of clergymen. 


holding two confirmations in a day; and so the 
days consumed in this way were doubled, besides 
the constantly increasing number of places where 
he held them : for he was always ready to accede, 
if he could, to a request that he would confirm in 
ever so small a parish, instead of making the 
children walk some miles to another. 

The following letter has been sent as an illustra¬ 
tion of the trouble he would take to encourage his 
clergy in their work. Another clergyman, to 
whom it was shown, remarked * If all English 
bishops wrote such letters as this, how their clergy 
would work for them.’ 

‘ Eccleshall, 5 Oct. 1863. 

‘My dear Mr. H -,— I am just setting out for 

my South Staffordshire confirmations. But I cannot 
go without saying how highly I am gratified by the 

remarkable numcrousncss of the list for C-, which 

I have received from Mr. W- this morning, and 

how happy I think that parish in its pastor. 

‘ In great haste, 

‘ Very sincerely yours, 

‘J. Lichfield.’ 

His support of the Lichfield church extension 
society, founded by bishop Ryder, must be men¬ 
tioned in giving an account of his public work. 
Four times over he commended it by addresses 


Church extension in the diocese. 

and charges to,the laity and ciergy of the diocese,, 
and his commendation was enforced by donations 
of his own amounting to,3700/. His example- 
and .exhortation raised about 65,000/. for this putw 
pose, besides multitudes of private benefactions! tol 
particular churches, and a separate .fund for.ith?' 
augmentation, of poor, benefices,, first establishedj 
by Archdeacon Allen, inj the archdeaconry oft 
Salop, and, afterwards in, those of .Stafford, &nd, 
Derby., The result , was that he consecrated ■ 1,56/ 
new. churches in, his 24 years, or exactly one fotr 
every 8 weeks on the average and, thisof course 
increased the number of his clergy and the) amount 
of Jbis-work continually. •. ^Though the dioceses of' 
Lincoln and Exeter exceed Lichfield,in the pum-b 
her of churches, and in area, they are far short'Of 
it in population, Lincoln having not much more - 
than half of Lichfield; and it is hardly r necessary|, 
to say that the clergy of a manufacturing popula¬ 
tion, like that of the ironworks and the potteries 
of Staffordshire, bring much more work upon a' 
bishop than those of agricultural counties like 
Lincolnshire and Devonshire, or eVfen the tin, 
mines of Cornwall. , 

There was at one time a project for relieving > 
the diocese of the northern half of Shropshire 
which belongs to it; but he did riot consider that 

Increase* of bishoprics. 137 

the proper arrangement, and was unwilling for other 
reasons to 'lose his archdeaconry of Salop. He 
would have been glad to part with Derbyshire, 
which manifestly ought to be attached to a 
bishopric of Southwell, now that the episcopal 
revenues in the hands of the Ecclesiastical Com¬ 
missioners produce far more than is paid by thenV 
to all the bishops. He' did not regret the loss 
of Bills for founding second-rate bishoprics by 
voluntary contributions. But* one of the’ last 
things I heard him say in company'was, ‘The 
‘ House of Commbtis will never pass any bill again 
‘ for the benefit of the Church.’ He also wished 
to divide the tourtty of Stafford into two Arch¬ 
deaconries, but was unable to effect it. 

•Not‘long after he had’ lssued one of those 
appeals for church extension, headed by his own 
donation of 1600/., he wrote as follows about a 
speech which had been made against the bishops 
in the House of Commons: 

‘ Eccleshall, 9 Feb. 1850. 

*My dear Mr. Norris, —.I am sure that, 

if you have read Mr. H-’s speech in the House 

of Commons the other day about the Ecclesiastical 
Commission, you will agree With me as to the bad 
spirit apparently manifested in it. His object seemed 
to be to hold up the bishops to odium and contempt; 


His liberality. 

and no doubt the dissenters will turn it to this ac¬ 
count. I could not but feel indignation at his saying, 
that ‘in the work of church extension the bishops 
‘ went on exhorting and the people giving.’ It is 
grossly untrue and unjust. I have had a great mind 
to write to him oh the subject. . . . Perhaps I ought 
not to speak of myself in this matter. But I may say 
to you, that whert I put forth an exhortation for church 
building in this diocese two years ago, I began the 
contribution by 1000/. ; and I am sure my brother 
bishops are no less liberal. 

‘ Believe me &c. 

v ‘J. Lichfield.’ 

It has been said by those who have better 
means of knowing than I have, that there was 
hardly a public charity in the diocese, or of the 
church at large (except those which notoriously 
have a partisan character) to which he did not 
give liberally. His private charities he took care 
that no one should be able to measure. But it 
was well known that they were very large, and 
that he was apt to err on the side of liberality 
and confidence, even where a little suspicion 
would have been wiser. He kept no private 
accounts, and seldom talked about money. But 
he was rich, for a clergyman at least, both by 
marriage and inheritance; and it was well for the 

Episcopal incomes. 

J 39 

diocese that he was. For it was some years 
before he saved out of his private and official 
incomes together enough to replace the expense 
of taking possession of the see. And instead of 
having to provide for his family out of his 
official income, his own private means contributed 
largely to the wants of the diocese. 

It is no slight evil that any poor man who 
accepts a bishopric must, -live for some years in 
debt, and with the feeling that if he dies soon, he 
must die insolvent. I remember the late bishop 
Allen, of Ely, publishing the fact that he had 
been in that condition for a considerable time; 
and the same has been notoriously true of others. 
In old times the whole system of ecclesiastical pro¬ 
motion was one of chances. It was intended by 
bishop Blomfield’s scheme (6, 7 W. IV. c. 77) to 
put an end to that system ; and to make the epis¬ 
copal revenues equal and certain, with a few whim¬ 
sical exceptions which had no better reason than 
that they exceeded or fell short of the average 
before; besides the three bishoprics which also have 
precedence, London, Durham, and Winchester. 
Lichfield, on the whole the largest, is among the 
poorest. Now that the whole episcopal funds 
produce (as I said just now) far more than the 
whole episcopal incomes, it is time that some pro- 

His mode of living. 


vision were made to save bishops from being 
forced to live some years "in-a state of insolvency 
if they have not private means. J 

Bishop Lonsdale certainly wasted nothing in 
luxury or state. He was one of thoise to whom 1 
they are not merely Uninviting, but oppressive^ 
His furniture and general equipment would have 
been thought shabby by many a man with half 
his income. The bedroom 'to which he re¬ 
tired on his wife’s death in 185a was little better 
than a servant’s room, both in size' ahd furniture.* 
Though his hospitality was bounded only by the 
size of the house, it was for the most part of a 
simple kind. He disliked waste and was profuse 
in nothing but in giving. 

He occasionally received and visited sortie 'of 
the laity of the * diocese, for there was no reason 
why he should decline, and he knew the benefit 
to all classes of the bishop being on friendly 
terms with the laity no less than the clergy. But 
the hospitality which he chiefly exercised wa6 
towards his clergy. When his Rural Deans of 
each archdeaconry came yearly to Eccleshall, or 
candidates for Orders, or any other gathering of 
clergy, the only question he asked’was, how many 

* I heat that one gentleman bought all Ihe furniture of that 
bedroom as a memorial of the bishop at the sale of what was left at 
Eccleshall after his death. 

His. hospitality ; ^ 


could be takea in. There were very few of his 
clergy.y'ho. had ..not ..stayed with, him at some 
time, and certainly none pf those who had. been 
long in the diocese. If I am not mistaken, he was 
the first bishop y/ho took in the candidates, for 
Orders during jtheir days,. of ■ examination r instead 
of letting^them go to .the inns in the town. And it 
was never his.fault if clergymen who were, coming 
to. see him. from .a distance did jnot sleep at the 
Castle, as the Palace at Eccleshall is called. 

He less admirable in the character of 
a host than in all pthers; treating his guests with-’ 
out ceremony, but neyer, .without politeness, or 
the dignity which was part of l\is nature; not 
even allowing them to wait for him at meals, 
except .dinner, and sitting down in any, place that 
was vacant when,.he came in. When they went 
away he would help them .through the ,diffi¬ 
culties of Bradshaw ancl the North Staffordshire 
Railway, which §eems to, go straight nowhere, 
and is hardly to be ventured on without the help 
pf experience; ;and he often sent them in his car-r 
riage to and from .the station) which is nearly 
3 miles from Eccleshall. . 1 

Jt,is curious that the,opening, ofa railway from 
Stafford to Uttoxeter, which he had long looked 
forward to as a relief from the North Stafford-! 


Eccleshall Castle 

shire delays, took place very soon after his death. 
An Act was also passed a few years ago for a rail¬ 
way from Stafford through Eccleshall to Market 
Drayton and Whitchurch in Salop, and North 
Wales, for which he gave evidence in Parliament. 
Stafford is more central and accessible for the 
whole diocese than Lichfield. Archbishop Howley 
had strongly advised him not to live there, chiefly 
because a bishop is much less master of his own 
time in the city than the country; and the bad¬ 
ness of the palace there enforced the advice con¬ 
clusively.* It will be a great misfortune for the 
see if it should lose Eccleshall, which has belonged 
to it for 1200 years, and has been inhabited by 
the bishops for an unknown time, merely because 
a single one prefers to live at Lichfield. 

Nothing more is known of its very early history 
than that Domesday book says it had been held 
by the bishops from the time of Chad (‘ Ipse epis- 
* copus tenet Ecleshelle : Scs. Cedd tenuit’). But 
I confess I can find no authority for the tradition' 
that he lived there, or any of his successors for a 
good while after him. It appears to have been 
‘ embattled,’ or made into a castle, under a licence 
from King John; to have been mostly rebuilt 

* The tenant of the palace, who had been there long, died not 
many days before him. 

and its history. 


by bishop Langton in 1310; and again, after 
suffering great damage, like the Cathedral, in the 
civil wars, by bishop Lloyd in 1695 ; who rebuilt 
all the most visible parts of the house in the do¬ 
mestic style of that age, but incorporating some 
of the older parts behind. Nothing of the castle 
is visible, except a round tower, now away from 
the house, and the bridge and walls of the moat, 
which was turned into a garden by bishop Ryder. 
A short extension of the* garden goes to the 
churchyard; and the Ecclesiastical Commissioners 
are now trying to take that away: whereby they 
will make the Castle a mile from the church, and 
gain perhaps a pound a year in compensation for 
their Gloucester and Bristol palace exploits (p. 39). 

These may be thought trifling details, ‘ below 
the dignity of history,’ or even of biography. 
But we know the regret of great historians that 
the ‘dignity of history’ had ever stood in the 
Way of preserving the small facts which give the 
character of an age or a man. Instead of using 
vague epithets which might .mean anything, and 
therefore nothing, I prefer recording for those 
who care to read it what bishop Lonsdale really 
did, and how he lived. 

As the vicar of Eccleshall said in the sermon 
on his death, ‘He might often be seen at the 


His daily engagements. * 

‘ Railway Station in the grey twilight of a winter 
‘ morning, starting for some distant part of the 
‘ diocese, while younger men were in bedoften 
coming home too late for dinner, and having his 
daily task of letters to answer before he went to 
bed, and beginning the next day’s soon after 7 in 
the morning. It was said in another sermon pub¬ 
lished on his death that he had told the preacher 
not long before, that he had every day for the next 
two months filled with engagements. In every 
successive visit of my own at Eccleshall for many 
years, he seemed to be less and less at home; 
latterly hardly ever for three nights together, 
except when he had company himself. He left 
the Wolverhampton congress before the end, to 
come home for one night and go the next day 
to the other end of the diocese to preach for a 
clergyman who was going abroad for his own 
pleasure and had begged the bishop to preach for 
his schools before he went. 

His letters were however the great burden of 
his life. I do not mean to deny that he made it 
heavier than it need have been; that 'he answered 
some letters which he need not, and a few that h^ 
had better not have answered, and that he often 
wrote longer letters than his correspondents ex¬ 
pected. Still he did what he thought his duty in 

His letter writing. 


this matter, and could not be' persuaded to do 
less. His archdeacons, and no doubt many of 
his clergy, spared him as much as they could. 
But he complained of the unreasonableness of 
some of them, and often of his trouble being 
, aggravated by bad writing. I remember his tell¬ 
ing, us of a curate living in a rectory writing six 
sheets of paper to complain that the rector had 
not left sheets for, his beds as he had promised. 
The trouble he would take to find out the names 
of men who could not (or would not) write their 
own names, was incredible. The use of an ille¬ 
gible scrawl for a signature was specially offensive 
to him because it is generally the result of some¬ 
thing more than carelessness. 

His own writing was always distinct, except 
when it was intended only for his own use, even 
at the time when it was laborious to him to write 
at all, as I shall have to mention afterwards. I 
preserve here a fac-simile of a page of one of his 
letters, illustrating something more than his 
writing, to a clergyman who had been brought 
before magistrates for an act of violence. After 
describing it he,says: 

‘ I pray you as ,a brother seriously, to consider 
whether such conduct—unchristian-like and wrong 
in any man—be not quite, irrecpncilcable with the 


146 Letter to an offending clergyman. 

calling and character of a clergyman, a minister of. 
the Gospel of peace; arid whether it must not tend 
to bring scandal, upon the ministry of the Church, 
and so- upon the cause of religion. If you will turn to 
the .questions which, you'answered'when you were 
ordained Priest, especially, the last but one, I think 
the matter will be btought forcibly home to you. 

‘ I hope’[see the page opposite.]' 

It is' remarkable that this is the Only copy of a 
letter , that we found in his .own writing. If he 
wanted letters copying”, it was done for him by his 
daughter who lived with hint, or some one else iq 
the family. But this one he had either copied or 
rewritten for hims'ejf. "lie was often urged to keep 
• a secretary, to” relieve him of the mere physical 
burden of his letter T writing. Moreover he could 
dictate to a quick, writer faster than' he wrote 
himself; and his memory was so good that he 
never wanted a dictated letter to be read over to 
'him,' however long, it was. _ But he-could not be 
persuaded to have a secretary, though he was 
obliged to accept help for a few months in 1865 
‘from hi? family and the vicar bf'Eccleshall,* while 
his hand was weak. He disliked letting an^* work 
be done for him which he.either thought himself 
ought to be done by him, or thought that others 
would expect from him. 

'FacsuruU, of the handurrituio of 
the late Jitshop o/Lufifidf 


Burden of his letters. 

Once or twice, early in his time, he went abroad 
for a fortnight, but he was so overwhelmed by 
the accumulation of letters when he came home, 
though as many as could be had been answered 
for him by one. of. his archdeacons, that he never 
went again. His letters followed him whenever 
he went away for a few weeks, as he generally did 
in summer for a kind of holiday, and even on 
his visits for a single day. 

There are two ways of answering letters: one, 
merely to get rid of the subject on the easiest 
terms; the other to give the most complete 
answer that you can, even at the risk of further 
trouble. The few specimens I have i given show 
which was his way of answering. Moreover he 
answered not merely every letter, but every point 
in it. Before giving some specimens of his letters 
on general topics it will be convenient to insert 
here some remarks upon his correspondence by 
Mr. Norris, to which I have referred already at 
p. 14. He says:— 

‘ Of the many scores of letters from the bishop 
which I have been looking over, there is hardly one 
which does not betray the use of the penknife (for 
erasing). It is curiously characteristic of that fasti¬ 
diousness about language which earlier occupations 
had formed in him. I remember him saying to me 

L 2 


His criticism of language. 

one day, as we came out of church, ‘a very good 
* sermon, very impressively delivered ; but now you 
‘ must forgive me for finding one fault—you inserted 
'■'to' twice over in quoting the last answer of the 
‘Catechism, spoiling the grammar. It quite spoils 
‘ the grammar—it does indeed.’* 

* In another letter I find him taking me to task for' 
Having spoken of ‘ revising ’ the children’s answers after 
an examination. A man may revise his own work, 
not another's. He was speaking of our prize ex¬ 
amination, in which he ever took the liveliest interest, 
being nearly always present at the distribution, and 
addressing to the children words of affection which 
numbers and numbers in Staffordshire will remember 
as long as they live. At the Church congress the 
other day very many of those 2000 working men who 
received him so enthusiastically had as children re¬ 
ceived the Iron and Coal masters’ prizes from his 

‘ In conversation he spoke very freely of persons as 
well as of opinions, but always deprecating extreme 
views, and always with a large charity. It was this 

* ‘ What is required of them who come to the Lord’s Supper ? 
A. To examine themselves, whether they repent them truly of their 
former sins, steadfastly purposing to lead a new life: [to] have a 
lively faith in God’s mercy through Christ, with a thankful remem¬ 
brance of his death: and [to] be in charity with all men.’ It may 
not occur to everyone that the two last'clauses are governed by 
whether they , not by purposing to : you cannot purpose to have faith 
and charity, but you can examine yourself whether you have them. 

His help to school inspectors. 


readiness to acknowledge righteousness wherever he 
found it that made some say he belonged to no party: 
And yet no man was ever more loyal. He was loyal 
to his school, to his university, to our classical studies, 
to Horace especially, ‘that' prince of worldly-wise 
"meh ’ as he used to call him ; to his friends, to the 
party which had founded in his youth the National 
Society ; to the Prayerbook, to the English clergy as 
a body, whenever they were attacked; and most of 
all to those old fashioned.virtues which some younger 
men were apt (as he thought) to unde/rate in com¬ 
parison with the more attractive graces of our religion. 

‘He used to say, ‘Well, you have told me that he 
' is very zealous, and an eloquent preacher, and all 
* that ; but is he honest, is he sensible, is he a wise 
‘man?’ This wisdom, ‘this right judgment in all 
things ’ (as our Whitsuntide collect defines it) was 
what he valued beyond all price. Any education that 

failed to aim at this was in his eyes worthless. 

Mere cleverness in a parish schoolboy he never cared 
much for; but a ready sensible, thoughtful answer 
Used to delight him, almost drawing tears from his 
eyes. How he strengthened my hand,? and helped 
me with his counsel, and tried to bespeak for me on 
all occasions the confidence of his clergy when I first 
entered his diocese as an Inspector of schools, I shall 
most gratefully remember as long as I live. 

* J. P. Norris.’ 

On the Doxology 


Here is a piece of another of his letters to 
Mr. Norris on a small literary question: 

* I had no doubt about the feminine character of 
slattern; but I was not quite sure that sloven was 
exclusively male. I have consulted however Johnson 
and Richardson and Webster (are there any more? 
as Home Tooke said when he had signed the 39 
Articles), and I find that they all agree in making 
sloven only a man and slattern only a woman. Still 
I am not quite sure that a woman may not be slovenly; 
I do not think a man can be slatternly.’ 

The following letter, written a few days before 
he died, is of a theological character, though it 
was only in answer to one sending him a very 
bad epigram in Latin and English, of which the 
latter version is quite enough to print, and that 
only to make the letter intelligible: 

' So Luther found the Paternoster long, 

When doomed to say his beads at evensong. 

But having cast his cowl and left those laws, 

Adds to Christ’s prayer the power and glory clause.’ 

‘ Eccleshall, 14 Oct 1867. 

‘My dear Mr. Mackarness, —I thank you for 
letting me see the epigram, which I return. You may 
well call it ‘ a curious one.’ It does not shew so 
much aberration of intellect as Mr. -’s letters to 

in the Lord's Prayer. 

I 5 i 

me. The Doxology appended to the Lord’s prayer 
is rejected as spurious by the best critical editors of 
the Greek Testament, Griesbach, Scholz, Lachmann, 
Tischendorf. Griesbach’s words about it are ‘certis- 
sime delenda.’ It is not in the Vulgate: and the 
"Romanists, I have heard, say that the Protestants 
have corrupted even the Lord’s Prayer. But the 
Doxology found its way into the Prayer long before 
the Reformation. It is rejected also by many of the 
most learned Protestants, besides the editors named 
by me. 

‘ Why Mr.-(if I understand his lines rightly) 

charges Luther with using the Doxology, I do not 
understand: for Wetstein, in a learned note upon 
Matt. vi. 14, says that Luther makes no mention of it 
in his Catechism. 

* Very sincerely yours, 

‘J. Lichfield.’ 

The next is again a letter to Mr. Harvey, 
which I print on account of the subject of it, 
the Warburtonian lectureship at Lincoln’s Inn, 
to which the bishop wished his old, friend Mr. 
Benson, formerly Master of the Temple, to be 
appointed; and he had apparently written to the 
archbishop of Canterbury (Sumner) for the pur¬ 
pose, who had perhaps asked Mr. Benson whether 
he would like it; but he never held the office. 

The Warburtonian lectureship 

* 5 * 

* Bowness, Kendal, 7 Aug. 1848. 

‘My dear Harvey,— Your communication has 
found me here on a week’s visit to my youngest 
daughter [whose husband was curate of Bowness], 

‘ I thank you for letting me read Benson’s clever 
and interesting letter. You make no remark upon 
the Archbishop’s letter: nor does he. I thought 
it a very nice one. You say that you merely wrote 
to acquaint me with the great improvement in B’s 
health and spirits. But you asked whether I could 
not get the Warburtonian lectureship offered to 
him: and it was with this view that I wrote to the 
Abp., and I am very glad, both for the sake of the 
Church and for Benson’s, that I did so. 

‘If the lectureship is offered to him, I earnestly 
hope that he will accept it. He will surely have time 
‘thoroughly to prepare himself’ for at the least the 
opening of the lectures ; the general view of the sub¬ 
ject being already settled in his mind. There are, 
if I mistake not, only four [three] lectures in each 
year. ... 

‘ Always most truly yours, 

‘ J. Lichfield.’ ‘ 

This allusion to the Warburton Lectures re¬ 
quires some explanation. Bishop Warburton, in 
memory of his own preachership of Lincoln’s Inn, 
provided a small endowment for a lecturer, who 
was to preach in the «chapel there, and publish. 

at Lincolns Inn. 

l 53 

three sermons a year on prophecy for four years, 
with the consent of the Benchers. The first Lord 
Mansfield, L. C. J. Wilmot, and Charles Yorke, 
who died after being Lord Chancellor for a few 
days, were the first trustees of the endowment ; 
and the preacher of Lincoln’s Inn was to be pre¬ 
ferred as lecturer. Accordingly bishop Hurd (the 
rather too obsequious follower of Warburton), 
who was then preacher, was the first lecturer. 
After him came Bishops Hallifax and Bagot, Dr. 
Pearson and T. Rennell, Christian*Advocates of 
Cambridge, Archdeacons Nares, Lyall, and Har¬ 
rison, J. Davison, whose lectures on Prophecy 
became a standard book, Dr. McCaul, the -very 
learned writer of two essays? in the ‘Aids to Faith,’ 
who had the misfortune to fall upon a time when 
learning was a disqualification in high places for 
promotion. Professor Maurice, E. B. Elliott, the 
author of Horae Apocalypticae (the mine which 
is so profitably worked by Dr. Cumming), arid 
other persons of less note, until the present 
Preacher Mr. Cook, who was succeeded as War- 
burton lecturer by the Rev. B. M. Cowie. The 
lectures are now preached on the Sundays after 
Michaelmas and Hilary Terms and the first Sun¬ 
day in March, subject to occasional exceptions. 

But it was a mistake to suppose that the ap- 


The y Warburtonian lectureship. 

pointment belonged to the archbishop of Can¬ 
terbury. Perhaps some archbishop had been a 
trustee, or had been generally consulted by the 
trustees, and the appointment had gradually been 
left to him. In some way op other it had come 
to be assumed that he had the appointment; and 
probably the assumption would have continued, 
but for an accident, not worth relating, in the 
lectureship of a second Elliott, who had been 
appointed by archbishop Sumner in 1858, on 
the principle which usually guided his appoint¬ 
ments. This led us to look into the matter, and 
then the usurpation was discovered. The sur¬ 
viving trustee, Lord Mansfield, was requested to 
appoint two more; and then, for the .first time 
since bishop Hurd, the preference directed to be 
given to the preacher of Lincoln’s Inn was ob¬ 
served, and Mr. Cook became the lecturer for 
four years, on the expiration of Mr. H. B. Elliott’s 
term in 1862. It seems rather to have been 
assumed that the Preacher was not to be the 
Warburton .lecturer ; otherwise Mr. Lonsdale 
would doubtless have been appointed himself by 
archbishop Howley in 1838. Thereby we have 
lost a book on Prophecy by him. 

The next letters exhibit several of the Bishop’s 
opinions; and one of them the care that he 
bestowed on the tracts sent for his inspection by 

His opinion of ‘ Coleridgianism'. 

r 55 

the Christian Knowledge Society, and the broad¬ 
ness of his views on-such publications. 

, . 39 Harley Street, i May 1850. 

‘ My- dear >Harvey, —If you continue to begin 
your letters to me .as'. you -do, I shall be driven to 
* Rev. Sir.’ -You have written, I know, to me about 
my preaching at Hornsey in consequence of what I 
said, -not seriously, to Mrs. Harvey, There is no 
reason, in rerum nature,,why I should occupy a pulpit 
which never wants a worthy occupier; and in which 
I suspect your people are tired of seeing lawn sleeves. 
It is however always a plehlsure to me to visit Hornsey 
rectory for any purpose. Nor have I at present any 
engagement for the 7th of July. 

‘I should have regretted not hearing Sortain’s* 
lecture, had you not said what you have about its 
unintelligibility. I hope he is not falling into Cole¬ 
ridgianism ; which has, in- my opinion, greatly im¬ 
paired the usefulness of some very able teachers. 
Why should you and the Bp. of Oxford have been 
unable to understand a lecture delivered in your own 
tongue, and not on a purely scientific subject ? Your 
quotation from Benson is only too true. But the 
like has often been said before. And after all, we 
cannot do without Creeds and Prayer Books and 
Church Government; as all experience shows. 

‘ Always most truly yours, 

* J. Lichfield.’ 

* The late Rev. Joseph Sortain of Brighton. 

On the S. P. C. K. tracts. 


1 Eccleshall, 30 Jan. 1854. 

‘ My DEAR- Harvey, —Heavy as is the daily burden, 
of my letters to me (a burden from which it is well 
nigh time that I should be relieved), I can assure you 
that your most kind letter of Saturday last was a real 
pleasure to me ; though I have great,cause of com¬ 
plaint in the formality of your style, after "our very 
long friendship. 

‘ I did not mean to complain to Browne of the 
new S. P. C. K. Tracts generally. But I did com¬ 
plain of one, * Jhe White Robe,’ as being most flimsy. 
I had before expressed this opinion to Murray [their 
secretary then] : and I am sure that the putting of it 
on the catalogue will not do credit to the Society, or, 
I think, good in any way. I liked ‘ Contentment in 
hard times,’ and still more, * What is the use ?’ and I 
expressed my liking, in respect to the- latter at least, 
when I made my report. But I hope that the Com¬ 
mittee will let me make way for a better man. 

‘ Surely they have nothing to do with ‘ the channel 
‘ through which tracts come to them.’ .... 

1 That you ‘ want good tracts against infidelity ’ I 
can well understand : and I fear you will want them 
more and more. But if they are not really good they 
will tend to confirm, rather than to convert, un¬ 
believers and doubters. 

‘ I do not see why a dissenter’s tract should not be 
accepted, if anonymous, or if it do not appear that 
the author is a dissenter. 

His book of Hymns. 


‘ I rejoice to receive a pretty good account of Benson. 
It is long since I read his Hulsean Lectures. So I 
know not whether they would take now. I do not 
remember that they needed abridgement. 

* I cannot tell you how sincerely grieved I am to 
hear of poor Sortain’s state. It is sad indeed that 
such a man should be so disabled. May God restore 
him. , 

* Ever most truly yours, 

‘J. Lichfield.’ 

These remarks on the S.P.C.K. publications 
(i.e. their religious ones, for their publications on 
general literature go through a different com¬ 
mittee) remind me that he had undertaken before 
he was bishop to compile a book of Psalms and 
Hymns for them. I remember the proof sheets 
coming to him at Eccleshall. But unfortunately 
committees necessarily contain men of various 
degrees of taste, among whom there are generally 
some who have the felicitous art of taking the life 
out of every book and every sentence that they 
touch. He found his book of hymns rapidly 
becoming under that process such as would by 
no means come up to his standard; and so he 
dropped it. The Society have since published 
another, how far founded upon his I do not 
know. It does, at any rate, admit some hymns 

158,. ' .S’. P. C. K. Hymn-book. 

of dissenters as he advised: for instance, the 
Advent hymn, which I have heard objected to as 
* written by a dissenting blacksmith.’ Whether it 
was or not, I suppose it is more widely used than 
any hymn on any day in the calendar. 

The office which he spoke in this letter of 
resigning, was that of ‘ episcopal referee ’ of the 
religious, tracts, which I have mentioned before. 
But he kept it till his death, and several of the 
Society’s books were on his table then, with the 
notes which he had made upon them. As another 
prelate, even in the chair of their own public 
meeting, has warned that antient and useful 
Society that no amount of orthodoxy will com¬ 
pensate for dullness in literature, they will perhaps 
be helped by this reminder of their loss of bishop 
Lonsdale’s hymn-book. 

On this same subject of Hymns, I insert a 
letter to the Rev. E. Harland, vicar of Colwich, 
about a book of psalms and hymns compiled by 
him and dedicated to the bishop. He did not 
merely accept the dedication, on a general ap¬ 
proval of the book; but Mr. Harland says' that 
he examined every hymn in it, both at first and 
on the printing of each new edition, suggesting 
some himself, and particularly the first part of 
the Old Version of the 18th Psalm, ‘O Lord my 

Hymn-books suggested by the Bishop. \ 59 

strength and fortitude,’ which was a favourite with 
him. In fact he originally suggested-the com¬ 
pilation as a cheap hymn book, after the failure 
of his own attempt to get one to his mind through 
the S.P.C.K. Archdeacon Allen s ‘ Penny Church 
hymn book’ had the same object and the same 
origin. * The bishop suggested the insertion 
there of Cowper’s hymn, ‘ Israel in ancient days,’ 
and of Dryden’s,* ‘ Creator Spirit, by whose aid,’ 
as a hymn for Trinity Sunday; and Dryden was 
a papist. 

1 Eccleshall, 18 July 1865. 

‘ My DEAR HarlanD, —I am very glad that you 
approve of my alterations of your Hymns. The 
stanzas, as you have now sent them to me, are I 
think, very nice. 

‘ In your Marriage Hymn you have ‘ Son of Mary.’ 
You are aware, I doubt not, that this designation of 
ourLord is strongly objected to by a certain class in 
our Church. One of this class, who has succeeded 
to a clergyman of another school in the incumbency 
of a populous parish in this diocese, and has found 
a hymn-book there which he cannot displace, has, 
I am told, publicly requested his congregation to 
substitute ‘ Born of woman ’ for * Son of Mary,’ when 
the latter words occur in a hymn given out to be 
sung. , 


His remarks on Hymn-books . 

‘ The objection appears to me to be highly un¬ 
reasonable.; for the words in. question recognise an 
unquestionable fact-; and when we have in Scripture 
(Acts i. 14) ‘Mary the -mother of Jesus,’ I do not see’, 
why we may not address Jesus as the ‘Son of.Mary- 
I do not therefore wish that you should give way- 
to the objection: though,, we.must avoid, if we can ; 
offending weak brethren. But ‘Holy Jesus’ might 
very well be substituted for ‘Son of Mary’ in the 
Hymn to which I have referred. 

•‘ Very sincerely yours, 

‘ J. Lichfield.’ 

His advice to the Society 1 not to 1 reject books 
because they were written by dissenters was only 
in accordance with his’usual readiness to recog¬ 
nize whatever there was good in every man. Inr 
this, as in his behaviour to all men, he was no 
respetter of persons. A certain dissenting preacher 
went onfe evening to- hear him preach in a town, 
which he was visiting. The next day he saw him 
at the station, and went up to him and said, ‘My 
‘Lord, I shpuld not have treated that!text as you 
‘ did last night.’ 4 Well,’ said the Bishop, ‘ and how 
‘ would .you have treated it?’ And so .they disi 
cussed it until the train came and .parted themJ 
Whatever else was thedresult 'of the discussion] 
the dissenter cattle away chamied -with 1 the. bishop^ 

His courtesy, to dissenters. 


and probably with a different opinion of bishops 
in general from that which he had held before. 
This story was told a few days after his death by a 
friend of the dissenting preacher, who was present 
at the interview. The Independent minister at 
Eccleshall, with whom the Bishop was on friendly 
terms, joined his funeral procession, and put his 
own chapel in mourning for his death. 

Although he could not tolerate intentional rude¬ 
ness, and never quite forgot it, he was indifferent 
about any casual or ignorant omission of the usual 
marks of respect which was not intended to be of¬ 
fensive. But he never displayed the mock humility 
of depreciating the office of himself or his clergy, 
which we know is not inconsistent with abundant 
personal conceit and magnification of self. 

*An old solicitor of his family in Yorkshire, 

whom he employed till his death at a great age 

lately, from some whim of his own, or possibly 

from mere ignorance, always addressed him as 

' Dear Sir,’ and he was more amused at it than 

offended. He once received a letter addressed 


‘The Rev. C. Lichfield,’ and beginning ‘Dear 
Lichfield,’ sent to Eccleshall by mistake, asking 
for subscriptions to a book of poetry published 
by an old student of King’s College London. 
He simply answered thus: 


His accuracy in business. \ 

1 62 


‘The bishop of Lichfield presents his compliments 
to Mr. Thorpe, and will gladly become a subscribe 
to k(s book: of poems, as any associations of King’s 

College are always most pleasing to him.’ 

1 • •' - 1 ■ ■ 1 1 n 

■Of course his real object was to help the author 
(from whom this story comes) and-to do it in the 
kindest way. But, for all this, his. natural dignity 
was such that there were few men 'with whom 'it 
seemed more impossible to take‘a liberty^ 1 
t Though he kept'mo accounts/ and veryi.few 
copies of his letters, trusting ’ apparently to'his 
memory and to memorandurpsi. in 1 hisi pocket 
books, he was as exact in all [matters of business 
as a banker. His solicitors, writing' to: his I exe¬ 
cutors, ‘ beg to be allowed to add their itestimony 
‘ that among all their numerous correspondents 
‘ they had none to be compared to him in pund- 
‘tuality, accuracy, kindness, 'and courtesy.’ 'The 
smallest thing that hd undertook- to 1 do for any¬ 
body,! no less than the greatest,’’was sure to /be 
done, if it was possible/ 1 ‘Many of his clergy 
thankfully remember t*he‘trouble he used to take 
in getting them grants from societies for their 
church and schools, and for their! own private 
needs, and nominations 1 foV I their children 'to 
• schools, besides all that he did for them privately 
at his own expenseJ ' 1 

His preference of gentlemen. 163 

I have mentioned several things from which it 
may be inferred that he had a very keen appre¬ 
ciation of the difference between gentlemen' by 
nature or education anii ‘ gentlemen ’ by courtesy. 
And .he had a theory*which may sound* strange 
in these times^-if that is to be called*'a' theory 
which is an inference from long experience—that 
clergymen of the former class work I harder and 
do better than those of the latter. He was* not 
fond of those who, apparently by a 1 slight 1 -abbre¬ 
viation, are called ‘literates.’ Nevertheless he 1 was 
swayed by no* k priori 1 presumptions of that kind 
in judging of every .man by himself; and 1 reward¬ 
ing, him according-to his merits when he had the 
opportunity. 1 • 

1 Some ‘Mr. Worldly-wise-man’ has said that 
he is most of a gentleman who is least given 1 to 
asking’ questions. If that is true, bishop Lons¬ 
dale was no gentleman. But like most of I &uch 
sayings, it is only true within the inarrdw limits' of 
such men’s vision .1 Questions i |of /mere curiosity 
or impettinencfe are rude and. ill mannered b but 
questions of sympathy are ithe first step_to acts of 
sympathy* I boldly avow thathe Was fond <6f 
asking questions*! 1 Hei asked 1 them, of his clergy in 
order that.he might learn the whntsiof themselves 
and their people, and know how tor help > them. 

M 2 

164 His love of questioning. 

He''asked questions of any "persons r possessing 
special knowledge, which 1 pleised'themby giving 
them the opportunity of teaching1 something fto"£ 
bishop, while they saw that they wet© questions 
of intelligence 1 and'desire * to 1 learn," ind not>T>f 
indifference Or condescension. 'He 1 interrogated 
schoolboys in order that he 1 might know what-he 
had best tell them and talk about to themJ Ah'd 
I will venture to say that hobodywas 1 '<iver^ of¬ 
fended by any question of 1 his,' ot felt | otherWise 
than'pleased, and assured that it Was 1 *'meant ^fop 
kindness,'and 1 that his 1 sympathy'and"help Avere 
ready to be poured out' for 'him' the • moment 
there was need of them. 

But he had a much strortgef Mark' of a gentle¬ 
man than the observance Of any such. Cdnvehtionil 
rule as that. I never saw any'brie'With whom dt 
was sb impossible to guess the tank 1 of the person 
he WaS talking to, by'his manner or the* tone 'of his 
conversation: At' hiS 'house' 'arid' table,' a'curate 
‘innocent of aspirates/ bV 4h Irish 1 deacon^who 
assured him that ‘ he would find' Justification’ by 
‘faith quite easy if he w6uld J Only^read his’ set- 
‘ mon,’ or a ‘ deputation ’ of angry churchwardens, 
received just the same attention as a nobleman, 
and yet without the least show of condescension. 
That story of the Irishman Who came with his 

His ready answers ., 


printed, sermon, ,ito be ordained , priest,,! was a 
favouriteiof his.*! He t told it. at the last,party that 
he> had, a few days .before he died 5 and also that 
another of the same nation said,to him.‘Ah, my 
ft Lord, it know that you are , not fqnd, of, us' 
!l-haver nt>; ddiibt he- gave him some .courteous 
answer* not ,1 amounting to an, absolute „ contra- 
idictionm > in 

11 Without being! anything of .a wit, or as (sharp 
invhis 1 replies as some!, p£ his brethren,, past and 
present, rr ,he , was very ready and, happy .in his 
answers to.those, ,whp,‘sought tp entangle piny in 
this (talk; •, sometimes 1 baffling them ,with, a .joke, 
and sometimes with a piece of unexpected learning. 
-| remember [one notorious disputant setting ,ppon 
ibimjin, a/argeparty with some theological atgu- 
jtnent, and'the bishop, answered, ‘Cp Mr., —•— woe 
u‘ be tjo.the 1 man whp engages, in an argum,ent jyhh 
h ‘i you i’ 1, which 1 the, gentleman | d,oubtl,esp took jn 
>onej sense ,and the jest ’pf the .company jn another. 

[.Afiohp had- beep farpous ; in |tis youth l fpr, the 
-accuracy tpf 1 his| scholarship, so hq 1 ft lwa y?,, t. e - 

mackable„fpr theiaqcpracy.apd clearness, pf ,every- 

J f r+l ‘ypyfrredeo^or' bishop Butlfer Had It 1 Wrfnori Writ to him 1 by a 
(person , 1 f pf, trie,same eonditionj on the,text,I hare,not gunned, to 
declare unto you all the counsel of God.’ He said to a friend of 
r mirie, ! Who 'was' With 1 ’him' ’Wheii' it came / 1 All 1 the 1 courisfel of'God 
till a 1 year.! puti it in the -Bra’i i 111 

r66 His dislike, of obscure language. 

thirig he wrote; and said. Indeed, he had a special 
dislike and distrust of'obscurity. We have,seenl 
(at p. 155) what he said of unintelligible lectures; 
and he hadi a | strong persuasion'that though a 
very able man may utter clumsy | and involved 
sentences > from' |Carelessness or want of oratorical 
power, like 1 Lord Eldon and Oliver, Cromwelh yet 
that habitual obscurity of meaning—which is 
sometimes joined with, great eloquence—arises 
from the writer or speaker not knowing distinctly, 
what he means. . 

,The bishop had, remarkable capacity for trans-. 
acting business both accurately and speedily.' Tor 
the last few years I had the honour of a seat with' 
him in his old council of King’s College, which 
he attended whenever he was in London. And 
both in the chair of ordinary meetings and at the 
larger annual meetings of the corporation, at the 
last of which he presided in 1867, he managed thd 
business with an ease, good humour, and rapidity, 
which made it a pleasure to every one to sit with 
him. , He could always flavour business with good 
humour, without the least sacrifice of either,time 
or dignity. 1 

At ,one of those meetings ,we had a striking 
instance of his memory 1 . A candidate—with uA- 
questioiiable, testimonials, as usual—had been all 


i 67 

but> appointed td - an office in the- College. The 
bishop said, ‘.’I think 1 L remember "a man of that 
‘.name * being ill- my diocese'with anything 1 but 
‘a'desirable reputation.’-' The appointment was 
of course 1 suspended; 'and' he wrote a letter on 
the 'spot' to the vicar of the place where'he 
remembered the Tn&ri" being' 1 a 'curate;'land >it 
turn'ed' out-that' he 1 was right. It is' easy to say 
this might have beeii an accident, and'might have 
happened with-anybody. -With one who was mot 
famous for his knowledge and recollection of men 
and their characters • arid business, it would only 
have beeh -an accident and not'worth recording 5 
but-with him it was 1 the kind of accideht which 
happened whenever th’erh'was occasion for itl 
- There are- men so clever that'you have to be 
always on the watch in doing business with them, 
lest you should find that in some way or other you 
have been outwittedj or committed to something 
you-did riot intend. 1 I-And there are others, from 
whom'it tisj said no- one ever goes away without 
feeling that-ihe'has- been humbled—sdrhetimes 
rudely, -sometimes' with all the forms of politeness, 
but with the most determined selfishness and 
yanityj and possibly ilinature, gleaming through it 
alL 1 To -say that bishop Lonsdale was neither of 
these is ito' say 1 nothing: for he was the very 

168 His^straightfoywardnesX' 

.opposite^ -If.he cduldpot?gratify ithqspyhp[came 
tpj frim_by .acting ,to ^hejr Requests, jhe ,did, all 
jhp'could to,,convince their), [thatiihisj!reasons./or 
refusing were good ,ones 5 and/that, he ,,refusecl |un- 
willingly, If r his own convenience onlyj!wasjinr 
lYplyed .he-.was. sure, to,{yield,! ifirth.e|-thing>jwas 
possible, As, for *Jais. takingn advantage■,,of, his 
position, or ,his knowledge, ,ori of, other people’s 
ignorance, for, getting his own, way by,aoy of)those 
feats of dexterity which, are, hardlyifhoughtt unfair, 
such things; were altogether, iprppSsible jto, him. 
hut he understood and jippreciatedijthps&jwho did 
them. I remember, his giying-mp, a : significant 
lpok when a great speaker, was, persuading a 
tneeting of one of the religions .Societies to (Vote— 
po, matter what. , I. said to him, afterwards* ‘ What 

‘ did you thipk |of --’s speech.’ i He answered* 

‘ I,was thinking how much/better. heWouldhav.e 
‘ spoken on the other side,’ ,, 

,Iji order to ascertain some .(fates rye had to,;read 
a-number of his most ipriyatp, letters,, which,had 
comer back into tu s hands, andhadl escaped 
destruction, written in a, .trying correspondence* 
partly on business, when hpjwng, ypung>.and,,rwheo 
he admitted that hi? tempet/.ryAs. watht ;i but, h<5 
added most truly, f fdefymjf wprst enerny ,to gay 
i have been ever hard;,to deal,,with?. -1 .They, are 

His temper'and. sincerity . 


not 'letters 1 to' be published';' but they showed ius 
that hewks even then the 1 Same forbearing, liberal, 
'and humble-rhirided than 1 that 1 the'Wotld kkew him 
to be half k. century'afterwards 1 . " Noh that'he'did 
not improve as 1 he 1 grew J older. • Whatevdlt fkults 
of-temper he may have (had were gradually thrown 
off; he acquired more repose'; knd 4 ome l df r, the 
best' points 11 -of his character ’ came' 'out "more 
strongly .every year. One who ’had 'known ‘ him 
intimately for' a Jong 1 tjcne 1 Said’ this ’to ’lme ’ more 
than once whileihd was' alivdj when’-' su'di n rfcmark 5 
are more striking, because'more likely'to bA inW 
Jtkrtial, than after .a' man is'dead: 'mil 1 * I 
Some' persons who are courteous and pleasknf 
abroad,'under the"restraints' of society; 'andkftixious 
to ptesenie a character for urbanity, kre indifferent 
to’ the comfort and pleasure of 1 their 'Awn' HoUse- 
holdsJ Others again, who'think enough and’moire 
than enough of their owh "flesh aAd' blood; kre 
careless 'about the Welfare Of anybody else. This 
rriah had no two sideShe Wa's alWalys thd'skme 
behind the Scenes as befdrte them. 1 1n 'ah' inquiry 
kt King's College the Other day an'eminent mart 
whA was a professor 'there in his time kid’ to‘the 
Committee, * Whatever MV. Lonsdalfe k aid'to youf 
'face you might be quite SurA he Would do behind 
‘yoUr back.’ ' The 1 only diffetArice wkS thkt' thA 
closer you had the opportunity of watching him, 


His help -vf’Eccl&shalL curates. 

and .the. deeper you'saw intb his \ character, itlie 
more you. found to admire. i / x- 

A multitude oft small acts .of kind ness , cannot* 
be„ put-together into.a catalogue; and single spe^ 
cimens, arei-apt to look insignificant:. /But. still* 
I, .give /them.l \ An/old curate of Eccleshall, during/ 
some of the bishop’s first years -there, writes that?; 
he was more of a father to him than a bishop'. 
When,he was left alone therein his vicar s absence, 
the bishop, , often (helped him in the service ;, 
generally of course by arrangement a day or two 
before. One Sunday morning when no/ such 
arrangement had been .made, .the bishop came- 1 
down to his lodgings before breakfast to ask if hei 
could help him, and took part of both the morning! 
and evening service for ,hint. At the same; timet 
he was specially careful ndt to* obtrude I himself/ 
upon,,the vicar as if, hfe were exercising the- 
bishop’s right to preach; and he oftener read' On Sundays when he was at home/ 
he i generally ! went down to the parish • school y 
but there also he never, intdrfered as, 'having! 
authority, but only acted like ahy other voluntary/ 
teacher. i ,i n i n uil-ri 

As he grew old and rhis Work increased .with: 
th6| increase of his clergy and the populatidn tof 
the ) diocese, he preferred resting t oh/ ’Sundays;/ 
when!,he. was j.allowed to doi ,so; |by 'be;ng. Iefti ad 

Other 'acts of hindness. 


home: Moreover the r parish: hasfor some 1 years 
had a vicar always resident,! besides a curate $ ‘so 
thatithere has been less need of the bishop’s assist¬ 
ance. I He once received a message, on a Saturday 
that a country parish, was suddenly deprived'of its 
clergyhian:i I So "he drove td'thd place himself? 
and. did i all the'Sunday duty, not merely giving 
thenf ohe servicetbut both: 1 Last year, when he’ 
was, un, London, die went every Bay for sortie time 1 
to > see an old clergym^Tjr.'frofn t the 'diocese who 
was dying.1 

1 He took in. a large family of ^children at the 1 
Castle for. threeitweeks, while their father'and 
motherf were reihbving- their 1 furniture in a better 
living* which he. had given'them* Neither should 
his ireadiness. fo thke.lon^ journeys to gratify his 
friends 1 beyond.'the diocese by marrying their 1 
daughters, nor by preaching at the openings of 
organs or churches,, be forgotten : least of all by 
me,.for he than three! times to Don¬ 
caster!;. once for the first of.those purposes in. my’ 
family. |once 'for. the second, and at the sithulta*- 
neoua opening ©f.the twb new churches there,.the 
rebuilt parish church, and St. James’s for the 
railway people, in 1 October x 85 S>. ‘ ( 

1 I dot not record these things as implying that 
no'Other bishops do them, but because they all gcb 
to, make_up''the picture and !the character bf this-' 

g72 His readiness togo anywhere. 

great- mart i -a character Which'will live 1 as a whole 
in'lmemory and tradition' long' after the detail^ bf 
it have been all forgotten. icFhe memory of bishop 
Wilson Saved - his' little 1 insular'diocese from''ex¬ 
tinction' after it.was. doomed* though 1 it is/difficult 
to say now what* he'did, or left'behind him; except 
h 1 little bobk of prayers. > i . > I 

It Was theh by no 1 conventional form' of-speech 
that) he said iiV'his answer'to'the address :ofthis 
clergy (p‘. -124)' that he ‘ had- endeavoured ' to! 'be 
‘the servant of all-; ? ->orlthat he'spoke of himself 
asthe brother clergyman’ of the one whom he 
.was, rebffitingfor r misconduct (p.,145). *His only 
ansyeCj tyj . requests, that he would go anywhere, 
to do Other work of his office, ;was his poqket 
hook. lHad he an engagement already which 
prevented-, it ? If -not - hei t almost always went. 
Winter and summer were alike to him, even after 
the'winter 'of his age had set LnJ If those.Who 
wanted a Church consecrating, or a meeting to' be 
held which he was to address, were- content- to 
take their 'Chance of bad weather, he'.'was* f He 
had olfteri talked 1 bf'resigning, but lie had' ait last 
made tip his thind'to go Oil unttl 'he should b T e 
stopped by another hand tlikri 11 his ’oWn 1 . If he 
lived to feel ’that he could do his work no more 
as'he 1 was wont to do it, he^jpe^nt tc> resign ;,apd 
whether the work he did hastened the end or 

His last letter. 


riot, 1 he did,not | card, r iHls> only; ifnaximuwasj jthat 
of his Master,i‘J ’ must work ?the tw6rk ofihimnthat 
‘jsent me, while it islday :r the. night.comethJ il Ji 
Asia finaL illustration; of , his! readiness/ tomndefc 
thkeTany idutyyiwhfere there .was/ a : chanceuofihis 
.doing) good, 1 ,/I,/print here. 1 perbdpSithe/,ivery,..last 
letter that he wrote, to the / chaplain i>£jthe[ ;gaol 
“at Shrewsbury, when the hand of death iwasj.already 
.lifted,: forlituwasi one of those final [twenty^ htnthe 
end of which/he said,: ‘.th’ose letters r are too much 
for me,’land Ithen rested for ever,, 

‘ fecclesliall] 19 Oct! 1 tk’c.7 'Saturday! 

My 1 dear Sir,— Ab'^ente ftom fifinicfifciJf 'diofcdsain 
ivotll:' in 'Ndrth SttlfTorclshirfe' has 1 proven ted 1 md Trfim 
Veceivi’ng'ylourkind leiter tili tfi^dayl 1 ,J ‘h)o ob o 
r '‘i'should’fie a'shamed Of- inySelfiif Indill nof Will- 
ni’gly comply witlmyour trefiuest tlhatl Ii shouldvvish 
■your poor prisoners. > 111 1 v 11 tinii Imr ritm ft 

‘■Your.desire that I/should do,.this/lisla verygratify- 
-irig evidence qf yqur .pastoral anxiety Xonthnirlwelfaxe. 
h am—please - God—to; fie ah Shrewsbury, q(y,-Ffidak 

iflqxt the- 25 th, fqr confirmation at St., Mary 3 h 3 P<R?F 
janp fi \y°uld yisit; the prison eifiler, immediately aftpr 
clhe confirmatiori^qc % nqct .monring, as n|ight,b ffi t 
fV'^arrangem^tp, _ u> ■ 

‘ Believe me &c. 

1 1 < I i « I 'J 'll 

{ 't’i .’u ’i.'u ni ix ii mI 1 .J* Lichfield,. 

1 fiev. James lDenhing.’ 

f 74 

• His'courage. 

This completes whai occurs to' me ! to say of 
his general work as.a bishop; I add 1 'a few more 
personal characteristics before I reach the’ac¬ 
count of his. last idays.And first I will riiehtion 
one which isi always * appreciated; 1 - though Ut- r J ii 
often more of a natural! gift thart the 1 result r df 
calm and well founded confidence iii thb future! 
Though he was sometime^ 'anxious'and fidgety'ih 
small ailments and,troubles, he was unmoved and 
fearless in great ones; and in the greatest 11 h<^ 
never forgot his consideration’ fod’othersl' 1 He 
was once thrown out of a carriage which hl's 
daughter-in-law was driving, iti ’ consequence? f of 
his trying to make a bad horse go'faster *; and'he 
was at first thought to be seriously hurt,' though! 
fortunately he was not. The first thing that he 
said when he came to himself was, 4 Now mind, 'if 
anything happens, it was all my fault.’ He was 
in several railway accidents, and once much 
shaken, a year before his death, though not in¬ 
jured. After the train had stopped in one of 
them, generally a dangerous state of things from 
the chance of others running into it,, he went 
to sleep. A few years ago he was Caught in a 
storm in the western isles of Scotland, and was in’ 
great danger for a time; when it was Over they 
found him iquietly sitting Out of the way of the 

Fondness ; for children. 


sailors in the,boat,.up,to his knees inwater;;! and 
the men truly,)said; he,was f a plucky old gentled 

a , ,T have said, in. .speaking, of ! his.confirmations, 
that he won i the, affections: of the. children ( ho less 
than .of their elders.. He not only knew i how^ito' 
talk t;o them* as hei,did to .everybody,!but vvas 
npt above playing with therm A clergynianwrites 
that he once missed, the bishop, who was visiting 
him, and looking out of the window saw onenof 
the children, driving him round the gardenias' a: 
horse. , In the, midstr of allt hisr work the 1 would 
find time to write letters, and not'-very i short 
ones, to his grandsons at school,'of which Twill! 
give ftyo specimens presently; and if he heard 
anything likely to be interesting to any j of his 
family he would take the trouble to write it him¬ 
self instead' of merely sending us a message, 
had two such letters from him last summer. 

, i 

f 9 Holies Street London, W. 

24 Feb. 1865. 

"My DEAR Harry,— You have been very kind in 
inquiring about my hand; and so I am desirods dl 
showing'you that I caln use, it again : though, as the 
doctor, tells. mfe that I must not use it too much, ailiit 
Lucy still writes many letters for mej 

‘I have seen several pf your letters; and,from:the 


Letters to his grandson 

tone'of them I think that I cannot have been mis - 1 
taken in my conclusion that you are now very happy 
at Winchester. . I was very glad to hear that you had 
got into a room in which there is much less fagging. 

‘ The result of your examination after the holidays 
gave me great pleasure and did you great credit: for. 
though you did not get the prize, because you failed 
in French, it was no little thing to be spoken of. as 
having done remarkably well in other things, and to 
stand second, and above all to be put up.. You have 
got a good name at Winchester, and I have no’ doubt 
that you will keep it. [Unfortunately he had to leave 
Winchester from illness soon after this.] I have no 
fear as to your continuing to work steadily, and I 
know that your reward will be certain. 

‘ I was much amused by your account of th^ battle, 
bloody though it was, between you Collegers and 
your neighbours the Commoners. It put me in mind 
of the fights between the North and South in America, 
Though you, like the Southerners there, were greatly 
"overmatched in numbers, you made a gallant stand,* 
'as they’have done. You have not yet read Juvenal. 
When you do, you \yill come to a passage which your 
account brought to my recollection, and which, I fear 
represents the state of feeling between C. and C. at 

‘ Inter finitimos vetus atque antiqua sitnultas, 

* Immortale odium et nunquam sanabile vulnus, 

• Ardet adhuc." 

at Winchester. 

As you fought with snowballs, 'one might almost put 
‘ friget' for ‘ ardet’ 

* I hope that there 'was no bodily d vulHuS-’ in your 1 
conflict that has not proved ‘sanabile.’ 1 

‘.I do not wonder at your finding Alcaics difficult at 
first. But the metre is a fine one; and I dare say 
that you will write vety good Alcaics some day. 

‘Praying that'God’s blessing may be with you, I 
am always, 

‘My‘< 3 ear Harry, 

! ‘ Ybur affectionate Grandpapa, 

‘ J. Lichfield.' 

‘ Mr. H. AJ Bryaris.’ ' 


Holies Street London, W. f 
27 Feb. 1865. 

‘ My DEAR HARRY,—I am much pleased by your 
answering my letter so so L on, and t by your letter 
too. 1 ESut We are very sorry to hear that you are in 
‘ Sick’House and we shall rejoice to know that you 
are out of iLagain. 

‘ t have* just written to Miss Zornlin to thank her 
for her llindness in inviting you. I fear that you wilt 
hardly be allowed 'to take part in the * athletic sports ^ 
of which you' speak. But I shall be glad to hear that 
ydu are strong‘enough to do this. 

‘ Thank you for the list of books which you are 
now reading. r The^'pht %»e f in mind 6 f Eton!'days. 
The HippolytuS is a beautiful’play, and 1 ‘arti pure 



Letters- to his grandson 

that you will think so, when, youj are master, of,.it. 
I can repeat parts of lit now; 

Tle/nrere fiw opo?, h/ju irpor vXrjti, k.t.X. 1 

1 i ! 

,You .say, * Djd you ; ever hear of such a theme for 
verse task,as the .Egyptians overthrown in the, Red 
{Sea’ ? Certainly I have ; for.I wrote a long ‘holiday 
task’ at Eton upon ‘./Egyptiorum Israelitas inse- 
quentium clades,’ and I can remember many of the 
lines now; but they were^hexameters. [They are 
printed at p. 314.] ‘ 

‘ I congratulate you heartily on your ' six places.’ 
I hope that it will be tip, up, up, still with you. ‘ 

'Aunt Lucy sends her love to you :- arid - I l ani 

1 My dear Harry, 

‘Your affectionate Grandpapa, 

* J. LichfieLd.' 

He never forgot to write to his own'children 
on their birthdays, though for some reason or 
other he disliked his own being noticed: cer¬ 
tainly not because he cared about being reriiirlded 
of his age, for he had the same dislike 1 when he 
was young, and he continually talked of growing 
top old for his Latterly he was unwilling 

to get new furniture, .though he used tp like it, 
and was last yea^ persuaded, with difficulty to 

and his daughters . 


have a new set ofrobes, though his old ones were 
shabby, because he believed he should not want 
them., Some, persons may like,to see specimens 
of these letters; and though they contain only 
af few loving 1 'words, 'they are ' such as feiV men 
can write. The variety of all the‘annual letters 
of thiJ kind which have been T kept is as great 
as if he had always. remembered the previous 
ones and determined to $void any repetition. 

* Eccleshall, 22 Feb. i860. 

‘ My DEAR FaNNY, —I have yesterday’s and to¬ 
day’s bundles of letters before me this morning ; and 
so, I cannot write to yoq in many words. But many 
words are not necessary for me to say how heartily 
I wish you many happy returns of to-morrow; and 
how sensible I am of your affectionate kindness to 
me on all occasions. 

‘ Ever, my dear Fanny, 

‘ Very affectionately yours, 

‘J; Lichfield, 

1 1 ( pught to have thanked j/ou yesterday for the. 

use of your carriage on Monday., It was a great con- 

. 1 , ' . I m 

venience tp me. 

1, , , 

Thid r postscript ife bile of innumerable instanced 
whicli^ihight be glvfeU‘Of his fcare to acknowledge 
the smallest! attentiori that was paid to him, or the 

N 1 


His gratitude. 

least service that any one performed for him. I 
am tempted to give one more illustration of 

*' 33 Queen Anne Street, 31 July 1855. 

‘MY DEAR Fanny, —We are just starting .for 
Staffordshire. But I do not like to leave your house 
without thanking you for your truly kind and very 
convenient and seasonable hospitality. Nothing could 
have been more comfortable than we have found 
everything: no attention could have been greater 
than that of your servants. 

‘The only want has been that of the.presence of 
the host and hostess. I hope the air of Ben Rhydding 
is doing you good. Netty [his niece, who then lived 
with him] sends her love. Mine to Denny. 

‘ Ever affectionately yours, 

‘ J. Lichfield.’ 

The next is again a birthday letter, and is, 
written feebly and with difficulty, like that one to 
his grandson which speaks of the weakness of his 

‘ 9 Holies Street, 23 February 1865. 

‘ My dear Fanny,—G oodness and mercy, I may 
well say, have followed me all the days of my 

‘ But I have had no greater blessing than my 
children: and so it is an expression of thankfulness. 

Letters of congratulation. 


hs well as of love, to wish you many happy returns 
of this day. 

* This I do with all my heart, being always, 

' ‘Your very affectionate father, 

‘J. Lichfield.’ 

I add one more letter, of congratulation to 
Dr. Kennedy on his being appointed, ultimately 
by the Chancellor of the University on account of 
an equality of votes of. the electors, Regius Pro¬ 
fessor of Greek at Cambridge, to which a canonry 
of Ely is attached. 

‘ Eccleshall, 26 Feb. 1867. 

‘ My dear Kennedy, —I should have written to 
express the hearty satisfaction with which I heard 
last evening of yout appointment, so richly deserved, 
so well earned, if I had not received your kind letter 
this morning. Pray accept my hearty congratulations 
and best wishes. 


‘ I think that your unfruitful ( prebendal stall at 
Lichfield will become vacant , by your installation to 
a fruitful one at Ely. ... 

‘ I was very glad to hear tljat you were going to 
examine for the Newcastle scholarship with my son 
.James. I hope that your professorship will make no 
difference as to this. 

‘ I am always 
‘ Very sincerely yours, 

‘J. Lichfield.’ 


His conversation. 

Although (as I said before) ho was iiot a wit 
or a sayer of ‘ good 'things,’ like bishop Blom- 
field, whose jokes and 1 ready answers iheloften 
quoted, there‘were 1 few personsi-soi agreeable in 
company; and in all companies! alike. Among 
literary men, ecclesiastics, lawyers;) medical men 
(of whom he used, to have many ht his table 
When Principal of King’s College),' Candidates for 
orders, ‘ county families,’ and other laymen arid 
women, people hew to him or old acquaintances, 
at dinner after, a long day’s' coiifirmations; or at 
breakfast before them, he was always equal to the 
occasion and to the- best man among. Ithe com¬ 
pany ; yet he never aimed at shoeing off himself, 
of took more 1 than 'his share ‘of conversation. 
Like all great men,- he had 'a lively sense I of 
humour; many a good story which we heard 
was kept fot him', and it was pleasant to see how 
he enjoyed- knd repeated them. 

Here is one, of a kind which he particularly 
enjoyed: A blustering man in a railway carriage 
said, f I should like to meet that bishop off -o-— , 
I’d put a question' to him that would puzzle 
him.’ ‘Very well,’ Said'a voice) out of-another 
corner, f then' how is your time, for I am the 
bishop of’ [it may 'easily be guessed what]. The 
man was rather startled, but presently recovered, 

• Love of jokes. 


’and said, ‘ Wel 4 my Lord, can you, (tell, mp the 
•way to heaven?’ ‘.Nothing is -easier,’ answered 
r the bishop‘ you have only to turn to the right, 
land go straight-forward.’ Among, foe storips of 
bishop Blomfield ( not already published; fo his 
Life) our bishop was’ fond of this one, .which was 
current ab Bowness, where he spent several of his 
, summer holidays. One day when the bishop of 
London was just starting for, a journey among the 
lakes, the waiter .told him a gentleman wanted to 
see him. A rather freely-talking person to whom 
he was complaining of being so stopped said, 
‘ I should think you d(ep)d 'the waiter:’ he an 
Swered, ‘No, I seed the gentleman.’ Again, he 
Was asked,, when he was an archdeacpn, t;o,certify 
that a parsonage required some repairs, which 
belonged to a man who, had stuffed birds and 
beasts all over it, and who said to him, ‘You 
see this staircase is Very weak:’ he answered, 
‘ Well, I am sure it smells strong enough.’ 

Our-bishop was not merely fond of humour, 
but possessed singularly constant good humour 
of his own. I never saw a man, especially an old 
man, who seemed to enjoy all the pleasant things 
of life, great and small, with the youthfulness 
and freshness of spirit that he did. He rejoiced 
over a fine view, a picture or a building which 


His cheerfulness. 

he liked, the flowers in his garden,* the noise of 
children, which Jie ,would never allow, to be 
stopped, even close to his door, the news of any¬ 
one’s 1 good fortune, visits from his children or 
friends, and his own work, except when it was 
oppressive. He was never in low spirits unless he 
was unwell. Though he had sometimes an oddly 
plaintive tone in his voice it,was always 
turn into a joyful one, and was sometimes used 
for Saying things by no means melancholy. The 
Master of the Temple was once travelling over 
the diocese with him to S.P.G. meetings, and he 
was taking a young curate in the carriage, who 
looked very much astonished at the Bishop ex¬ 
claiming in that same plaintive voice, ‘ O Robin¬ 
son, they have no such fun at Cambridge now as 
we had.’ I only tell the story, and do not vouch 
for the Bishop’s conclusion. 

He had been both a shooter and fisher in his 
youth, especially the latter; and only the year 
before he died he went out fishing with some 
young peoole 'in a boat on the lake called Cop 
Mere near Eccleshall. He was also (shocking as 
it may appear to some persons) fond of the 

* Horticulturists may like to know that the memorandums at 
the ends of his pocket books were chiefly the names of flowers which 
he bad seen in his visits and meant to order for his own garden. 

Love of plays. 


theatre; and used * to regret that custom and 
public opinion prevented him from going there. 
If a play is an immoral one it is bad for every¬ 
body to see; but if it is not, and is a good one, 
he saw no reason why clergymen, and 1 even 
bishops, should not enjoy it. But So long as the 
world thinks it safer for young ladies than for 
bishops to take their chance of being corrupted 
by the theatre he would by no means offend the 
world. He truly followed the maxim, ‘Serve 
God and be cheerful,’ which is attributed to 
one of the greatest' of his predecessors, Bishop 
Hackett ; who rebuilt the great spire of the 
Cathedral after the rebellion. 

For in old times it was always the bishop 
who is spoken of as doing all that was done in 
building and improving the cathedrals.' The 
deans of those days are hardly ever mentioned. 
Now, the bishops seem to have lost all power over 
their cathedrals, and to exercise not more but less 
jurisdiction there than in theip parish churches; 
being excluded even from preaching there ex¬ 
cept by invitation, or in their • turn as pre¬ 
bendaries if they happen to be such, as the 
bishop of Lichfield is, holding the prebend of 
Eccleshall; which however is only what he called 
in his letter to Dr. Kennedy an ‘ unfruitful stall,’ 

His personal habits 


as the bishop's* prebend .of Exeter will, bp .aftef 
the next vacancy (see. p. 38 note). 

Something more.,than the .interest of7mere 
curiosity belongs to the personal habi,ts of*men 
who keep their full powers rboth , (of mind and 
body .ten years beyond the period generally given 
them by nature, even as. long ago as ,the ; time of 
Moses, who wrote the 90th Psalm,, though he 
was himself an eminent t exception, to |the rule. 
Bishop Lonsdale's habits,1 so far as they were 
likely to affect his health, are soon described, by 
saying he was always temperate in all things. As 
I pointed but at p. 9, he inherited a disposition 
to longevity, which sometimes oddly enough ac¬ 
companies even a sickly constitution and an urn 
healthy life, and his was a singularly healthy one. 
For such ailments as he had were never seriousj 
and for the most part were rather of the nature of 
warnings against working too long, and neglect¬ 
ing daily exercise, a neglect which (fortunately) 
he always paid for speedily before receiving any 
lasting damage from it. 

He was remarkably indifferent about what he 
ate, and about the time of his meals, except his 
breakfast. His early rising has been already no¬ 
ticed ; and the time of breakfast at Eccleshall, or 

arid life at Eccleshall. xZ'j 

at 1 any r rate of th^ prayers before' it,I was' never 
extended beyond 1 9 o’clock, even f ’for -visitors bf 
the most luxurious or lazy habits at home: 
generally it was' 8.30. There is no private chapel, 
is 1 'there is in many bishops’ palaces, and sprayers 
Were‘said iri his room. In short the usual 1 mode 
r of life there was in jall fespects like that, of 1 ah 
ordinary parsonage whkre there is no ‘res an- 
gusta' domi,’ 'except that 1 ' mdre servants were 
hecessarily 'kept, on account' of the frequent 
company. The animated conversation ' about 
hieatS artd drinks, which some persons 1 delight 
in, was never heard at 'his table, for he parti¬ 
cularly. disliked it. And yet • he often expressed 
his pleasure at some Very simple fare which was 
•provided for him at other houses. • ' 

He had a great antipathy td dark and "sunless 
rooms, and hardly ever came into one in his own 
house without pulling tip the- blinds if they Were 
-down ; # and he used to be annoyed if the servants 
pulled down the blinds of his room when he was 
staying in other houses. He cared nothing about 
his furniture, considering it Only for use, and 
Would hot tolerate the loss of sunlight for the sake 
bf it. His own' study window fortunately looked 
south and he Seldom shut out the sun. It is by 
no-tneans impossible that this contributed some- 

x 88 

"His personal appearance. 

- thing to his good health, for I suppose the com¬ 
parative unhealthiness of sunless rooms is now 
generally admitted. He was a sound and ready 
. sleeper; and like some other great men, was able 
to use any convenient opportunity fort' sleep: 
Unless he was kept awake by talking; 'a 1 very 
different thing from work, he generally slept < a 
little after dinner, as Sir Astley Cooper did 1 ; 
giving credit to nature 1 for knowing better that! 
the doctors who tell people it is wrong: whereas 
it is only their too great dinners that are wrong. 

So soon after his death it may seem 'super¬ 
fluous to describe his appearance; but it can¬ 
not even now be known to everybody. .He 
was rather tall and thin, with high 'but broad 
shoulders, and in other respects of a good figure* 
and particularly in the limbs which' bishops are 
specially called on to display. His head was 
large and well shaped, as usual with men of his 
wisdom and power of influencing others, and not 
of mere cleverness. His eyes were large, and 
bluer than .are often seen, though his hair was 
dark while he was young; it turned grey early, 
and for a long time was very white, but thick 
until the few last years: he was never bald. 

I have selected for the frontispiece what is 
thought the best of the many photographs which 

Its improvement with age. 


he was asked to sit for, except one which has been 
too often copied to be used again : it was. taken 
a few months before his death. He nevej wasted 
his time and- money in sitting for a portrait-in 
oil; for there is no series of pictures of bishops of 
Lichfield to be kept up, as there is in some of 
the palaces; and no human fingers can draw a 
likeness equal to the sun. Those who only knew 
him when he was old will hardly believe that he 
was far from handsome while he Was young, as I 
can remember, and as feVen his wife' used to say. 
But such men as he was improve in beauty as 
their years increase, and the more evidently if 
they have had little of the beauty of youth. On 
the other hand we too often see once handsome 
faces steadily degrading; not merely losing the 
fair beauty of youth, as of course they must, but 
acquiring no other. Are not the changes some¬ 
times visibly begun in dris life which-will be com¬ 
pleted in another ? 


'Fals& reports of 

CflA£T,ER y lt | 


I I " 1 l ^ 1 

T N Bishop Lonsdale’s 75th year both the English,’ 
primacies were vacant, as they had been before 
within a year'of each others when he was 60. 1 • A 
report has been current that on one -of ! these 
occasions (I-do not'know'which is 'meant/'he 
refused the archbishopric of York. And' I' was 
once so confidently assured by an intimate/'friend' 
of his own that he was (offered the bishopric 'of 
London, that I thought it worth while to settle 
the'question by asking him, though I had myself 
no doubt about it. Considering the reputation he/ 
enjoyed !>o long, and his mnobnoxiousness to all 
parties, such rumohrs were natural enoughs But 
the fact was not so: no offer of translation was 
ever made to him, to either primacy, on any one 
of the four vacancies, .or* to London* or-Durham, 
which was thrice Vacant rnuhis time.' As 1 for- the 
last, a merely richer bishopric was most unlikely 
to be offered to him by' the Prime Minister who 
had to give it .all .those three times* ,London,. 
which was resigned by bishop Blomfield 'in 

offers off translation. 


September 1856, simultaneously with Durham by 
bishop Maltby (see p. 39), would certainly have 
been refused by our bishop, who was then not far 
from 70. So, I Have 1 Ho 1 - ddubt,'would Durham ; 
and his family know,that he had resolved to refuse 
either primacy if they should be Offered (as many 
people texpected) in a 862, when he .had begun to 
talk of resigning ,and' wished for.jthe provostship 
of Eton (p< 35)<i iBut the. compliment was not 
paid him. ( - 11 r j ' . t , y 

r When, Archbishop .Harcourt’*s,.401 years’* pri¬ 
macy came to , an end in 1847, a Yorkshire 
clergyman, who ,,tpld 1 me ,the news in , London* 
added ‘ I hope j we shall have your bishop^ I 
answered ‘.No you wont; you will .have T. Musi 
gravei’ . Thatl divination did not require from , a 
Cambridge man much recollection of. the past* 
or. of the principles of the 1 then Prime (Minister’s 
appointments.' Archbishop Musgrave was how¬ 
ever an honest, sensible, liberal, and goodnatured 
man 5 and j if his 1 primacy was .notl glorious it is 
memorable fori no evil. A translation to the arch¬ 
bishopric of York wohld have been nb lightening 

** One of out 'bishop’s predecessors, James Corhxvallis (who. 
became Earl Cornwallis a year before he died), was bishop of Lich^ 
field and Coventry for 43 years, ftom '1781 to 1824; but he was 
also dean of Durharrt, which in those days was better, than many! 
bishopric?, , | , , 


Archbishopric of York. 

of bishop Lonsdale’s work, as he would have done 
it, or as it is done now; though the popular idea 
ofit then was that it was merely a richer and more 
dignified bishopric of a rather easy character: 
whereas it is one of the largest dioceses, besides ' • 
being the Metropolis of six bishoprics ^fid seven 
counties—and an island; involving, in these days . 
•of commissions and meetings and continual legis¬ 
lation and debates on church matters, a great 
' amount of business to be done in London, by any 
archbishop who floes not mean to acquiesce in 
being a quasi suffragan of Canterbury. Perhaps 
(but here I am only guessing) our bishop would 
• have liked in 1847 to be the archbishop of his- 
own county, to which he always retained a warm 
attachment, as indeed he did to every place with 
which he had ever been connected. But no one 
ever heard from him the least repining at the 
neglect with which he was treated ever after Sir 
Robert Peel’s retirement. 

The following January archbishop Howley 
died ;* and then it was reported for a few days by 
persons about the Court that the bishop of Lich¬ 
field was to succeed. No less a person than 
Lord Lyndhurst believed it, and told a friend of 
the bishop’s that it was so; and several newspapers 
announced it. But it afterwards came out, 


Arckbishopric of Canterbury. 193 

through a bishop who was an intimate friend of 

the Prime Minister, that Lord Russell and one of 

his colleagues insisted on having an archbishop of 

s more decidedly ‘anti-high-church’ opinion?. The 

-. author'of the ‘Letter to the bishop of Durham,’ 

• which-the people of England took to- be aimed at 

‘ Papal aggression,’ as it nominally was (and so its 

author had to go on as if it had been), and not at'* 

the ‘putting down of Puseyism’ (to use bishop 

Maltby’s own phrase), as it really was,* thought 

.this was the way to effect that'object: nor was 

he very likely to promote willingly a bishop of 

: Sir Robert Peel’s creation. And so the elder of 
* • 

( the two Sumners was brought up from Chester to * 
the. seat of St. Augustine. It is remarkable that 
the other was asked to take the 'seat of Wolsey 
when it was again vacant, soon after his brother’s 
death in 1862; but the possessor of Winchester 
on the old unreduced scale was wiser than to 
make that change. 

Of archbishop Sumner’s reign at Canterbury 
no one can desire to say much. Of h ; m person* 
ally it may be truly said that he was an amiable, 
zealous, pious, and simple-minded man, not spoilt 
in his private character by elevation. But it must 
be added that he was eminently one of those who 
do not gain but lose in reputation by being 



Archbishop Sumner. 

advanced from a secondary place to the highest. 
And I suppose no one doubts • now that his 
advancement was, to say the least of it, a mistake 
for the object that was aimed at. The only 
- wonder is how any other result could be expected 
frpm promoting a weak man of strong opinions 
into such a place as that. Archbishop Howley 
did materially check the progress of ritualistic 
innovations for a time by a letter to the clergy 
of England in 1845. A. similar manifesto by 
his successor in 1851 fell as flat as if it had been 
an article In the Record, though it was backed' by 
the signatures of nearly all his brethren. But 
archbishop Howley was not a partisan; and his 
character for wisdom and learning and moderation 
gave his words a weight which his successor’s 
never had anywhere, and caused him to be ac¬ 
cepted as a kind of Speaker of the Church of 
England, in spite of oratorical defects greater than 
his successor’s; who was only regarded as the re¬ 
presentative of one section of the Church—and 
that a section whose decline and fall dates from 
about the time of his exaltation. 

His frequent legal miscarriages presented an 
unpleasant contrast to what would have been the 
case with an archbishop of a more judicial turn 
of mind. And if he satisfied the expectations of 

The Lambeth librarianship. 


his party, he certainly did not raise it or himself 
in public esteem, by his ejectment of Dr. Mait¬ 
land, one of the most learned men in England, 
selected for that reason by his predecessor, from 
the librarianship of Lambeth (a rock which arch¬ 
bishops seem destined to run foul of), who more¬ 
over had made that library more available than 
it ever was before. But it is superfluous to go 
on with illustrations of the consequences of pro¬ 
moting one man because he had very nearly the 
greatest of all disqualifications for the Primacy of 
all England, and thrusting aside another because 
he had it not; to say nothing of his undoubted 
superiority in every positive qualification. 

The experiment begun with archbishop Sumner 
was nevertheless continued with a kind of despera- 4 
tion for 14 years more,* and seems to have reached 
a degree of success which would give the author 
of a canonical epistle, the first bishop of Jerusalem, 
little chance of ordination as a deacon in one 

* It is fair t° say that some of the bishops appointed on that 
principle have disappointed the hopes of the party to vyhose con¬ 
nection they owed their promotion. But others have probably 
exceeded them. Some years ago a really learned bishop was 
driven by questions and remarks in the House of Lords out of a 
system of examination for Orders which was alleged to narrow 
‘the fair limits of the Church of England’ (again using bishop 
Lonsdale’s phrase). If a certain bishop now is not maligned it is 
high time for another inquiry, to put a stop to worse tyranny in 
the opposite direction. 

O 2 

196 Decay of the low-church party. 

diocese at least. At last the astute indifference of 
Lord Palmerston perceived that he was selling the 
Church of England for nothing to a party which 
was all the time steadily decaying, and only gain¬ 
ing ridicule instead of praise for his appointments. 
Bishop Lonsdale in his later years often remarked 
on that decay, and contrasted the condition of 
that party with what it was in the early days of 
his episcopate. They were just strong enough to 
vex him to the end—and to hasten it. Among 
other signals of distress I see that one of their 
leaders has been beseeching the dissenters to come 
to his aid, and promising (in whose name he does 
not say) what shall be done for them if they will. 

I leave this subject by saying that I am far 
from believing ^that the bishop of Lichfield was 
disappointed at not having to decide whether he 
should accept or decline the archbishopric of 
Canterbury in 1848. Its sole recommendation to 
him would have been the diminution of his work. 
The state and ceremony and responsibility of such 
a place were all unsuited to his taste and his dis¬ 
trust of his own powers, unfounded as such dis¬ 
trust was. But-it is impossible to doubt that one 
who did all things well that he ever put his hand 
to, a man pre-eminent for all the qualities which 
an archbishop ought to have, would have been 

His first warning. 


equally distinguished in that place, which every 
impartial man for 10 years has said that he 
ought to have filled. If he had gone there in 
1848 we should have seen less vacillation lately 
about the opposition bishopric of Natal (see 
p. 94). It is not his fame that has suffered by 
his being left to die of his work in one of the 
largest and poorest dioceses because he was neither 
a political nor a religious partisan. 

About three years before his death we had 
the first warning of what his end would be. In 
November 1864 he was staying in my house, 
and sat up late to answer his letters, which were 
sent to him from Eccleshall by the evening post. 
He was, as I said before, singularly indifferent to 
physical science, and had no idea that he was run¬ 
ning any risk by working at his age so late at night, 
besides getting up very early, in the morning, 
as he always did. I persuaded him then to go 
to bed at his usual time, about ten, though he 
could not be persuaded to write no more after 
dinner. About Christmas he came again (when I 
was away) and again wrote letters till a late hour 
one Saturday night. The next day his right hand 
seemed to be weak, but he 'told my wife nothing 
of it, probably expecting it would recover. But 


Failure of his hand. 

on Monday the evil could be concealed no longer, 
for he could not write as usual. There was some 
difference of opinion about the cause; but the 
London doctors agreed that it was a very slight 
paralytic stroke. Then it was that he dictated 
his letters for a time, to his eldest daughter, or 
to the former governess of his three daughters, 
and afterwards of Lord Lyndhurst’s, a lady whose 
extensive and accurate knowledge must be re¬ 
membered by many in the diocese; and some¬ 
times Mr. Good, the vicar of Eccleshall, kindly 
came to help him. But his hand was gradually 
restored, and then he would have no more help; 
he took the warning however and wrote no more 
at night. 

His last appearance in London was at the 
Lambeth or * Pan-Anglican ’ Congress of bishops 
in communion with the English Church in 
September 1867. As the wisest thing they did 
was keeping their debates private, there is' no 
account of any part he may have taken in them; 
and whatever else he told us he said nothing of 
himself. But he did not go there very willingly, 
and expected no more practical fruit, of such 
a synod than, his brother of St. David’s; who 
came after all, his caustic letter to the archbishop 
notwithstanding, and added his name, like our 

The Pan-Anglican Congress. 


bishop, to the * Encyclical epistle ’ which was (for 
the time) the only visible result of the meeting. 
It is no longer any secret, for I have heard it 
in various places, that the reason of that docu¬ 
ment being at once so disappointing and so harm¬ 
less was that the prudent party in the Congress 
were strong enough to strike out of it exactly 
that which its author probably considered its 
most valuable part. With their later doings I am 
not concerned. 

It is remarkable that the last act of the as¬ 
sembled protestant bishops of the world was the 
recognition of bishop Lonsdale’s antient fame for 
Latin scholarship, by asking him to translate their 
manifesto into the universal language. Possibly 
his friends may not regret that, while he received 
the compliment, his name was saved from being 
specially associated with that production ; for the 
translation was not finished to his satisfaction 
when he died. In this respect, as in others of 
more consequence, he may be said to have been 
‘ felix opportunitate mortis.’ 

When the bishop of Worcester declined to 
sanction the Church Congress of 1867 being held 
in that city, the bishop of Lichfield was asked to 
let it be held under him at Wolverhampton; 

. 200 Wolverhampton Church Congress. 

and he consented; though at first he declared 
that he would not preside, as he said after¬ 
wards in his address at the opening. However 
when he was more formally requested he would 
not refuse; and as usual, when he had put his 
hand to the plough he did" not turn back, but 
went into the business heartily and warmly, and 
said all that could be said in favour of the con¬ 
gress. He did more than that: he found that 
most of the clergy who call themselves ‘ evangeli¬ 
cal ’ were holding back from it, and he tried to 
persuade them to come in. For he thought the 
chief advantage of such meetings was the bringing 
together of persons of diverse opinions, in order 
that they might learn how much they have 
in common. But I had better let him give 
his reasons for himself, especially as I have been 
asked to let that address have a place here, as it 
was thought by some persons that this, the most 
public speech he ever made, and all but the last, 
was also the best. 

A hasty reader may well be misled by its great 
simplicity and ease into overlooking the cleverness 
and ability of the arguments in favour of such 
congresses. On account of its length I read it 
several times over to see whether any of it could be 
omitted without spoiling the effect of the whole, 

His opening speech. 


and I find that it is all so compact and fitted 
together that I must not meddle with it, beyond 
omitting a few local and temporary allusions. It 
is hardly necessary to invite attention to the beauty 
of the composition, and above all, of .the conclud¬ 
ing sentences, and their harmony with the great 
object of his life. 

My Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen,— I find 
myself placed here in a position which some time ago 
I did not at all expect. The determination to hold 
the present Church congress at Wolverhampton was 
sudden and unexpected ; and when it was determined 
on I was desirous that the presidency should be com¬ 
mitted to some younger man ; but I was assured that 
that would not bp according to the mind of the pro¬ 
moters. I felt also that, so long as I held my office, 
and while my present health and strength are merci¬ 
fully continued to me, I ought not to shrink from the 
discharge of a duty which seemed naturally to belong 
to my office, and which in every former instance, with 
a single exception, has been discharged by the Bishop 
in whose diocese the Congress was held. I have 
therefore only to express my confidence that in my 
endeavours to discharge this duty I shall experience 
from those assembled here from various dioceses the 
same indulgent kindness as during a period of nearly 
24 years has been so abundantly shown to me by the 
clergy and laity of my own. 


His opening speech at 

We are permitted, God be thanked, to meet at 
another congress. Such meetings are so far now from 
being new and strange things to us, that it would be 
but little better than waste of words, especially after 
what we heard from the preacher of this morning, 
were I to speak at large upon the principles which 
regulate them, or upon the object? which they have 
in view. We are met as those who are entirely per¬ 
suaded that the Reformed, Scriptural, Apostolical, 
and Catholic Church of England has a mission from 
God to be His instrument for maintaining and diffus¬ 
ing both at home and abroad a knowledge of His 
truth, and for being His minister for good, spiritual 
and temporal, to his people. We are not met to 
answer objections to the order of our Church, nor 
to consider the grounds upon which it rests; but, if 
it may be, to suggest the means, and I would fain 
hope, to stimulate the exertions, by which the Church 
may be enabled more thoroughly to fulfil her mission, 
and to fight a better fight against the hideous array 
of ignorance, irreligion, and vice against which it has 
to contend. If we are met together, as I trust we are, 
in a'right spirit, we may humbly Rope that under 
God’s blessing we shall not have met in vain. 

I am aware that the value and even the wisdom 
of these meetings have been questioned by some, but 
I never heard any distinctly stated ground upon which 
such questioning is based. If a congress for the pro- 

the Wolverhampton Congress. 203 

motion of ‘ social science ’ is regarded as calculated to 
promote social order, social comforts, social happiness, 
surely we may look for the like effect to a congress 
on account of a great time-honoured institution which 
has continually for its aim the elevation of all classes 
of society and the spread of beneficial and divinely 
sanctioned principles. The very bringing of so many 
clergy and laity together for such a purpose, thus 
solemnly reminding them of their religious relations 
to each other, their own ‘fnterest in the- Church, and 
their own obligation to do what in them lies to 
invigorate its spiritual life and to extend, its saving 
influences, must be of itself a gain of no common 

It is said indeed that the intercommunication of 
studies, feelings, thoughts, and experience may be 
accomplished not less efficiently through the medium 
of the press. We all know the constant and ever- 
increasing facilities which the press affords for this ; 
but we know also, and we feel too, that there is a life 
in personal communication which cannot othenvise be 
generated. We all know that when persons living at 
a distance, but connected in a common enterprise, 
meet to take open counsel together with each other 
for its advance, an interest is created which has a 
great effect on many minds. I appeal to the feelings 
and experience of those in this room for a confirma- 
-tion of what I say. 


His opening speech 

Again it is said that no important fruits from these 
periodical meetings of Church Congresses are ap¬ 
parent We are not competent to judge in this 
matter. Many things operate for good, both to indi¬ 
viduals and communities, of which the working is 
gradual and almost insensible, but the effect is never¬ 
theless real and enduring. I believe this is so in the 
case before us. I am persuaded at least—I may 
almost say, I know—that many a clergyman has re¬ 
turned from a church congress to his parish (and it 
is in her parochial ministrations that the grand busi¬ 
ness of the Church lies) with a better heart for his 
work, and with more ability to do it, with his judge¬ 
ment enlightened and his views enlarged. I am not 
less persuaded that many a layman has been stirred 
up by such a gathering as this to more earnest zeal, 
more strenuous exertions, and more open-handed libe¬ 
rality for the support of his venerated Mother. 

I have adverted to the spirit in which the proceed¬ 
ings at a church congress should be t carried on : that 
it should be a kindly, large-hearted, and not a party 
spirit, I need not remind you. It was the want of such 
a spirit which so lamentably disfigured many of the 
ancient Church Councils. I have no fear that it will 
be wanting here ; and I doubt not that it will appear 
in the courteous attention that will be paid to any 
communication, whether read or spoken, which may 
be addressed to us, even if positions shall be ad- 

at the Wolverhampton Congress. 205 

vanced to which the experience of a majority of the 
hearers may be opposed. I trust that in such a case, 
if disapproval be manifested, otherwise than by open 
speech afterwards, th£ expression of it will be such 
as becomes the character and position of those present, 
and the occasion which has brought them together. 

I will not detain you longer from the business of 
the day. I have no need. I have been putting you 
in remembrance of known and acknowledged truths : 
I have done no more. IJpring the whole course of 
my life I have had numberless causes to be thankful 
for the goodness and mercy which have followed me 
through it; and not the least is the happiness which 
I have in meeting so many of my fellow-Christians 
and my fellow churchmen in this assembly. I ask 
you to join with me in prayer to God, both collect¬ 
ively and individually, for a blessing on this con¬ 
gress, so that it may be made instrumental to the 
strength and peace of the Church, and especially to 
the growth in our hearts and lives of that chief of 
Christian graces, brotherly love. It is through that 
alone that we can hope for an increase of unity 
amongst us. The school of faith is a high school, 
but the school of love is higher. Many here have no 
need to learn in the one, but we have all need to be 
continual learners in the other. The more proficiency 
we make in it the more shall we approach the example 
of our Master, the truer members shall we be of the 

His presidency over 


Church of Christ upon earth, and the better prepared 
shall we be to become members of his • Church in 

The chief characteristic of his presidency seems 
_ to have been the wonderful power which he dis¬ 
played of appeasing by a kind of magic the 
discordant elements which exist in all such meet¬ 
ings. No one seemed to know how it was done. 
Mere warnings and exhortations beforehand we 
know are .not sufficient; though we see that he did 
not omit those. Sometimes the mere lifting of his 
hand, or a single word was enough. There was said 
to be a sensible difference both in the words and 
actions of the same speakers—and those, not 
inconsiderable persons — in his presence and his 
absence. For he was absent, for the -reason 
which I gave at page 144, from two out of the 
twelve meetings ; and he had no sooner gone than 
the tempest arose. A speech was made by a 
young nobleman which appears to have been 
meant to raise a storm ; and it naturally suc¬ 
ceeded: the clergy of England were not likely 
to sit still and patiently hear themselves accused 
of priestcraft; nor to be amended by it. 

No one professes to know how the bishop 
would have quelled the storm; no one does know 
how it is that. 

the Wolverhampton Congress . 107 

-pietate gravem ac meritis si fort& virum quem 

Conspexere, silent, arrectisque auribus adstant: 

Iste regit dictis animos, et pectora mulcet. 

^ En . I. 151. 

But so it is; and every one (so far as I heard) 
yvas convinced that neither the disturbance nor 
the cause of it would have happened if the Pre¬ 
sident had still been there. The report of the 
proceedings in the Guardian said, ‘ there was but 
one heart and one voice Yn response to the vote of 
thanks proposed to the Bishop. Kis chairman¬ 
ship, without any appearance of interference, was 
effective throughout, as it was quiet and judicious.’ 

In taking leave of the congress he said, * At the 
e beginning of this day’s meeting ’ (when church 
ceremonial was discussed) * some disorder was anti- 
‘ cipated and I was asked to deprecate it; bift I 
‘ said, ‘ Why should I ? There has been no dis- 
c * order yet, nor do I believe there will be any 
‘ and you see what the result is.’ In that same 
speech he referred with satisfaction to some other 
meeting of bishops and clergy ‘ where the diocese 
of Lichfield had been held up as an example of 
cordial cooperation between the clergy and the 

After the congress was over, some of the mem¬ 
bers of it raised a subscription to present him with 


His letter about 

a Pastoral Staff or Crozier, such as the bishop of 
Capetown and two or three others have accepted. 
As they never inquired, directly or indirectly, 
whether he would like it, and must have known 
that it would raise discussion, they have no right 
to complain of the remark that they rather aimed, 
at gratifying themselves than him, and calculated 
on putting him in the difficult position of ap¬ 
pearing either ungraciously to refuse their offering, 
or else to favour opinions which they knew that 
he disliked, by accepting it. If they really sup¬ 
posed that he would be pleased by such a gift, or 
would ever let it appear with him in public—even 
in a photograph—they were strangely .ignorant of 
his taste. One who knew him very well said, not 
unwisely, ‘ he would much rather be presented 
with an umbrella.’ 

But even in a matter so insignificant in itself-as 
this he steered with his usual wisdom and im- 
• partiality between the two parties whose differences 
were his greatest and his last trouble. A clergy¬ 
man in Derbyshire, wrote him a letter, and pub¬ 
lished it, with the Bishop’s answer, after his death. 
Mr. Gell, or at any rate his friends, will hardly 
think I am doing him injustice by not printing 'it 
again, especially as the point of it is. sufficiently 
apparent from the answer, which was this: 

the Pastoral Staff, 


‘ Eccleshall, 16 Oct 1867. 

* My dear Mr. Gell, —I thank you for the kind 
and frank letter which I have found from you here 
this evening, on my return from diocesan work in 

* I beg to assure you that the contemplated present 
of which you speak so strongly has never had any 
expression of approval or consent from me. 

‘ Though I cannot agree with you in thinking that 
if I were to accept the gift it would be ‘ a marked 
and significant emblem of the domination of High 
Churchism in my mind and though I do not dread 
the contemptuous pity which in that case would, in 
your opinion, be attached to my name, I am very 
sensible of your kindness ’ in writing to me as you 
have done, and giving me the advice which you have 
given me as to the course I ought to take in the 


‘ I am &c. 

* J. Lichfield.’ 

This is the nearest approach to irony that I ever 
read or heard from him. Indeed I do not think 
that it was meant for irony, though • the circum¬ 
stances would almost forbid any other interpreta¬ 
tion of such a letter from any other hand. We 
may however remark on this, as in the matter of 
the Theological College (p. 63), that he would 



His last Confirmations. 

give no encouragement to the opponents/ or even 
purchase their approval, at the expense of the 
promoters of the scheme; and this although 
we (I mean his family) knew that he had made up 
his mind to stop it, as tending to ‘ cause divisions ’ 
and a thing totally useless in itself. Already one 
of his archdeaco'ns (Hill) had withdrawn his name 
from the subscription for the same reason. There 
was a memorandum on the bishop’s table when 
he died consisting of these two words written on 
a scrap of paper, * lies, Crozier.’ Probably the 
next letter that he meant to write was to desire 
the rector of Wolverhampton to inform the sub¬ 
scribers of his wish that the matter should pro¬ 
ceed no farther, though he would doubtless have’ 
thanked them for their intentions. 

He had not recovered as usual from the 
fatigue of his confirmations in the summer, and 
’ was ill after them, though not seriously. But he 
took a short holiday, except from the never 
ceasing letters, at Scarborough, and seemed after¬ 
wards as well as usual. I thought him less deaf 
(which he was slightly) than the year before. He 
was rather weaker in the legs, and less inclined to 
walk, and sooner tired, and had been at last per¬ 
suaded not to write letters after dinner. Still he 

The Bible and Science. 


seemed so well, and was in such good spirits, that 
when the vicar of Eccleshall was regretting that 
the church could not be finished by the 24th 
anniversary of his consecration (Dec. 3) as had 
been intended, I answered, ‘ he seems so strong 
* again that, Easter will probably do just as well.’ 
And so indeed it would. 

Four days before his death, just before I took 
leave of him for the last time„jve had some con¬ 
versation about the papers on ‘The Bible :> and 
Science ’ which had been read at the Congress. 
His last words on such a subject will at least be 
interesting, if they are not something more. 
Though he did not profess to understand science, 
no man knew better than he did the difference 
between sound and unsound reasoning; and .we 
may remember what he said in one of his letters 
to Mr. Harvey about the inexpediency of pub¬ 
lishing unsound defences of the Bible; and also 
his own views of its inspiration. But I must 
first explain how it happens that I am obliged to 
give my own word£ in this matter more than his. 
We had previously talked a little about the papers 
on that subject read at the Congress (of which 
I had been asked to write one, but did not), 
and I had written some remarks upon it which 
he desired to read, and did read. So the conver- 

p 2 


The Bible and Science. 

sation was really upon them. He agreed with 
them, and wished me to take some opportunity 
of printing them. I little thought what the 
opportunity would be. The paper contained 
more than this, but the rest of it involves too 
much explanation to be introduced here. 

To begin then with the principal question 
discussed in the papers I have mentioned, the 
Scriptural account of the Creation. He agreed 
that it is not a sufficient ‘defence of the Mosaic 
cosmogony, if it is wrong , to say that ‘ the Bible 
‘was not intended to teach science;’ though that 
is a sufficient account to give of the expressions 
which speak of the motion of the sun and the 
steadiness of the earth, in the only language which 
could be understood then, and which is commonly 
used even now by astronomers.* For Moses does 
profess to give an account of the creation, which, 
from the nature of the case, must also profess 
to have been revealed either to him or to some 
one before him. And even the second of those 
alternatives cannot be used as a defence of the 
inspiration of the book of Genesis as it stands, 
if that book is wrong; but only as a personal 

* Di\ McCaul has explained that the translation, 1 the earth shall 
never move at any time ’ ought to be ‘ the earth shall never j bake 
or totter and the steadiness and uniformity of the earth’s motion 
is an important astronomical fact. (Aids to Faith, p. 319.) 

Account of the Creation. 


excuse for Moses if he delivered a tradition which 
had become corrupted. 

The logical result, as the Bishop agreed, must 
be faced. Either the first chapter of Genesis 
will some day turn out to be true, according 
to some fair interpretation of its language; when 
science has told us all it can,, not according 
to merely bold conjectures, or strong probabili¬ 
ties,* but with the same certainty that it has 
told us the laws of motion of the planets ; or 
else the idea of its inspiration must be aban¬ 

This is the point where the divergence really 
begins between believers and unbelievers. The 
moment we arrive at an unsolved contradiction 
between the present state of scientific knowledge 
and the apparent meaning of Scripture, the un¬ 
believer pronounces the cause decided against in¬ 
spiration. The believer is content to wait, if need 
be, till the time when all the secrets of the uni- 

* From the time of Sir W. Herschel to Lord Rosse it was 
believed that some of the apparent nebula are really nebulous, 
because no telescope would resolve them; though others were 
resolvable into ‘ star-dust,’ or heaps of stars far beyond the visible 
ones. When Lord Rosse’s great telescope resolved a nebula which 
, had defied all smaller ones, it was concluded that only want of 
telescopic power prevented all the rest from being resolved. But 
now again it is considered to be proved, by the great invention of 
spectrum analysis, that some nebuhe are nebulous, and only inclose 
some stars, and are within the average distance of the stars. 


The Bible and Science. 

verse are laid open, as we cannot doubt they will 
be, to those for whom all good things are pre¬ 
pared. For he knows that some things, which for 
a long time appeared to be contradictions, and even 
absurdities, have already turned out to be agree¬ 
ments between revelation and science, either by the 
advance of science or of other learning. Some; 
striking instances of this are given in Dr. Mc- 
Caul’s essay on the Creation in ‘ Aids to Faith 
and who can say that they are all exhausted and 
that no others will be found ? 

To mention only one, which for a long time 
appeared the plainest contradiction. From the 
time of Moses until the other day, as we may 
say, the creation of the sun three ‘ days ’—or (as 
most Hebrew scholars now agree) three unknown 
periods—after the production of light, and of the 
earth itself, must have appeared a contradiction 
to our senses. And ever since the time of Coper¬ 
nicus and Galileo, when the enormous size and 
importance of the sun as the controller of the 
solar system began to be appreciated, the idea 
of it being younger than the earth must have 
seemed not only a contradiction but an absurdity. 
But first we may remark that it is just that 
kind of transparent difficulty or contradiction 
which a mere inventor ’of a cosmogony would 

Light older than the sun. 

. 2I 5 

- r - 

have been sure to avoid: from which we may 
certainly conclude that Moses had some reason 
far below the surface for writing what he did. 
And according to the latest astronomical theory 
of the origin of the solar system, invented, and 
ptoved to be at least possible, by two French 
astronomers, the sun is younger than the earth; 
while light and heat may be millions of years 
older, emanating from that much larger nebulous 
mass which once included the earth and at last 
contracted into the sun, as light now comes from 
other nebulae.* 

It appears also from geology that there was a 
time when the heat of the earth, and vegetation, 
were independent of climate, or older than the 
sun, as Moses says. And geologists apparently 
agree that plants, fishes, birds, beasts, and men 
did come upon the earth in the Mosaic order. 
Moses certainly did not learn their order from 
geology : nor only from tradition; for the earliest 
man could know no more of it than he did with¬ 
out the help of revelation. • 

It must not however be inferred that the bishop 
gave any countenance to those, who, imitating 
the Inquisition which condemned Galileo, insist 
that science is to yield to their dogmatic inter- 

* See Astronomy without Mathematics, p. 345 of 4th edition. 


The Bible and Science. 

pretations of or inferences from the Bible.. This 
is not less—or more—presumptuous than the 
assumption of certain scientific infidels that they 
are specially qualified to decide on the credi¬ 
bility of miracles, as if they alone had ascer¬ 
tained that the course of nature is immutable 
by any power short of that which ordered it. 
Of course an atheist cannot believe in miracles, 
because he knows of no such power; and a 
denier of revelation cannot, because he knows 
of no sufficient motive for a miracle. But these 
must appear to all but those who possess them 
strange qualifications for a superiority of judg¬ 
ment on the credibility of miracles. 

I am far from supposing that the opinions of 
this or any other bishop will carry any weight 
with those who are resolved to believe nothing 
that cannot be proved, or who have acquired 
such a habit of dwelling on the difficulties of 
revelation that they can see little else in it. But 
sceptics are mistaken if they imagine that they 
alone are conscious of the existence of difficulties 
in the Bibl£, as well as in the moral government 
.of the world. It may suit partial unbelievers to 
say that they have nothing to do with the alter¬ 
native that the Bible must be either substantially 
true or substantially false, substantially inspired 

His last sermons. . 217 

or absolutely uninspired. Wiser men reflect that, 
they have everything to do with that alternative. 
Newton and Faraday saw the boundary between 
science and revelation chiefly from one side, and 
John Lonsdale and Joseph Butler from the other. 
Such men. as these have been convinced that the 
difficulties of believing the Scriptures to be false 
are immeasurably greater than of believing them 
to be true. And they have been content to-wait 
till the time appointed for the solution of the ques¬ 
tion why difficulties exist, and of greater problems 
still. Our Bishop had not then to wait long. 

On Monday the 14th of October he presided 
and spoke at an S. P. G. meeting at Ecclcshall, 
and had a party of the clergy and their families 
to luncheon, the last company he had. The 
next day, immediately after the conversation I 
have mentioned, he went to Wellington in Shrop¬ 
shire, and returned on the 16th after preaching 
there. Though his sermon was at the opening 
of an organ, his text was, ‘ Whether we live we 
live unto the Lord, or whether we die we die 
unto the Lord.’ It was the anniversary of his 
wife’s death; and his own was so near that the 
text could not fail to be noticed afterwards as 
singularly appropriate. On the 17th he started 
again, to a place called Upper Tean near Ut- 


Meeting at Stafford 

toxeter, and there he preached his last sermon 
on the 18th, slightly altered from one which he 
had written the year before for a choral meeting 
at the Cathedral. It is therefore printed here; 
The last words he uttered in the pulpit are 
strikingly expressive of the doctrine which he 
preached by his words and his actions from the 
beginning to the end of his life. 

On Saturday the 19th of October he left Tean 
after an early breakfast, and came to Stafford to 
attend a meeting which had been called to pro¬ 
mote the establishment of a middle class school 
at Denstone in Staffordshire, in connexion with 
the College of St. Nicolas at Lancing in Sussex, 
which had contributed 2500/. towards its founda¬ 
tion. He found the walls of Stafford placarded 
with handbills denouncing the proposed schools 
as a device of the Romanizing party in the 
Church to obtain the religious -training of the 
youth of the middle classes, as the Theological 
College at Lichfield had been denounced in the 
same way 14 years before. Some of the bills 
were even thrown into his carriage. 

This was the sure way to make him defend the 
scheme more zealously, as he had defended the 
College against the same kind of opposition, even 
while he wished for the sake of peace that it had 

for the Denstone school. 


never been set up. For, much as he abhorred 
strife, his impulse always was to defend any one 
who he thought was attacked unfairly, and not 
to throw him, , over as a convenient mode of 
escaping from a difficulty and gaining popularity. 
Those who were at the meeting say they never 
saw him speak with such energy and warmth 
before, and the newspapers in effect said the 
same. His love of justice was. offended, and his 
meek spirit moved to indignation by an opposir. 
tion carried on as that was, to a scheme which he 
at any rate believed to be a bonif fide attempt 
to meet a want long recognised, and which had 
given rise to a Royal Commission of inquiry. 
He was the more indignant because—and this is 
not so well known as it should be—he had already 
given the - support both of his name and money 
to an institution for the same object at Trent 
in Derbyshire, which the ‘ low church ’ party 

He was certainly not so blind or ignorant of 
men as to need reminding that the chief pro¬ 
moters of the Denstone school and the trustees 
of the property were ‘high-churchmen,’ with 
opinions in that direction far beyond his own. 
But he thought, after making inquiries, that the 
principles on which the school was to be estab- 


Denstone school. 

lished and worked were ‘within the fair limits 
of the Church of Englandand he supported it 
on his invariable principle of supporting every¬ 
thing calculated to do good, within those limits. 

He had previously written his opinion that the 
‘ school should have a government of its own, in 
‘ the formation of which the leading persons of 
‘ that part of the country for the benefit of which 

* it is designed should have a voice. I can hardly 

* suppose (he said) that if these schools are spread 
‘'over England, they are all to be under the 
‘ direction of the provost and fellows of a college 

* in Sussex. I hope that each school may have 

* its governing body, beyond which no inter- 
‘ ference with the school will be allowed.’ 

The Rev. N. Woodard, the founder and 
‘Provost of S. Nicolas College,’ says in a pub¬ 
lished letter to Sir Perceval Heywood, that the 
bishop had been satisfied by him on these points 
at an interview in London. Unfortunately there 
has been no publication yet of the statutes or 
rules by which the school is to be governed, 
beyond the announcement that the bishop is to 
be Visitor. But he was far too good a lawyer 
to be ignorant that a Visitor has practically no 
control over the working of a school so long as 
it is kept within the limits of the statutes; and 

His speech at Stafford. 


no statutes can define the daily working of such 
an institution. However he gave the promoters 
credit, as he said, for intending to do right; and 
this was only a preliminary meeting. After the 
chairman had opened the proceedings, the bishop 
spoke as follows :— 

It is not my purpose to address you at any length, 
because I believe the great majority of persons who 
are here to-day, at any rate a great many, are come 
to obtain information, and any merely general re¬ 
marks would only be a waste of time. There are 
several present able to give that information, especi¬ 
ally my friend Dh Lowe [headmaster of the school 
at Hurstpierpoint in connexion with the College at 
Lancing] who is thoroughly acquainted with the sub¬ 
ject, and will be able from his own experience, besides 
making a statement, to answer any questions which 
may be put on the subject. 

I am here to-day on account of my office. It is 
generally admitted that while the education of the 
upper classes of this country has long been, and still 
is, with scarcely an exception, in life hands of tjie 
Church, and whilst the Church has also a very large 
share—larger than any other denomination—in the 
education of the poor, it is admitted on all hands that 
tire Church, which has a mission to all classes for pur¬ 
poses of good, has not carried that mission into effect 


His speech at Stafford 

in the case of the important class of society which is 
called, somewhat indefinitely, but with sufficient dis¬ 
tinctness, ‘ the middle class,’ 

Where it is able to fulfil it, I believe the Church 
owes a duty for good to every class of the community; 
and I know of no way in which she can discharge 
that duty better than by giving to all classes, as far 
as she can, a sound, religious, and useful education. 
It is on that account that I am here to-day. Here is 
a school proposed to be established on Church prin¬ 
ciples, and are we not bound to believe the persons 
who say they are honest and boni fide membdrs of 
the Church ? Are we not bound to take them at 
their word ? And if anything can be said against 
their principles, let people conje forward in a manly 
way and not put forth such a paper as this (holding 
up the placard). There is a paragraph in it which I 
have read with pain, and I cannot think that the 
clergyman alluded to is responsible for it, a statement 
that ‘ the evangelical clergyman in whose parish Sir 
‘ Percival Heywood has built a church, says, ‘ These 
* 'schools are designed to play into the hands of 
‘ ‘.Rome, and that the unprotestantizing of the middle 
' ‘ classes is their grand object and aim.’ ’ How can 
there be a graver charge than that ? I hope that 
anybody who is prepared to bring such a charge will 
prove it. 

Am I, after being here four and twenty years, to 

for Denstone school. 


be suspected of joining Popery, or of promoting a 
scheme of middle class education for the purpose of 
playing into the hands of Rome ? I am sure I need 
not say that I should not have anything to do with 
the movement, if I suspected for a moment that any 
such object is openly or covertly intended. But I am 
assured by the supporters of this school that they are 
bond fide members of the Church of England. There 
is in this diocese another school [the one already 
spoken of at Trent] now in progress with the same 
object as that proposed to be erected at Denstone; 
and if the promoters of that scheme, many of whom 
are personally known to me, come to me and say we 
wish to carry on a school for the education of the 
middle classes as church people, and upon church 
principles, am I not to take them at their word ? 

And am I not equally bound to do so in this case ? 
I cannot understand, and I never could understand, 
how honest people, and honest church people, can 
differ as to the essential and vital principles of the 
Church. That I do not understand, but I can quite 
understand that people may entertain those principles 
honestly and truly, and may yet carry them out in a 
somewhat different manner. That must always be 
so ; for we cannot expect in an age and country like 
this, that all work of the Church will be done in the 
same way by people of different minds and different 
education, or that all church societies will be con- 

2 , 24 His speech for Dens tone school. 

ducted by men who look at things from the same 
point of view. But that is no reason why we should 
not work together as friends while we carry out our 
own views. I am always supposing that they are 
conducted upon really Church principles ; and why 
then should not God’s blessing rest upon both ? In¬ 
stead of moving each other to envy and suspicion we 
should excite a kind of honest and godly rivalry. 
That state of things must exist, and we are bound to 
do all we can to turn it to the best account 

With regard to this particular school that we are 
about to establish, I believe that Church principles 
will be honestly and fairly carried, out in it, and that 
nothing will be done in it contrary to the spirit and 
the letter of the Church of England and her formu¬ 
laries ; that they will be strictly adhered to. And as 
to its being a Romanizing school, let people who say 
so prove it If I thought it was so I would withdraw 
from it to-morrow. I quite agree with the views of 
the noble Chairman ; those views are mine. We are 
met here to consider a great want, which it is the 
duty of the Church to supply ; and if anything could 
encourage u§ in such a work it is the single-minded 
and large-hearted liberality of my friend Sir Percival 
Heywood, who has come forward so nobly to secure 
the establishment of these schools in his own neigh¬ 
bourhood. I did not intend to go into the question 
at such length, but seeing this kind of anonymous 

Confession at Hurstmoncieux. 


paper put forth without a shadow of proof, I could 
not abstain from saying what I have done. Dr. 'Lowe 
will make a fuller statement to you as to the design 
and working, and I am thankful to say, the signal 
success of these schools. 

Mr. Beresford Hope next spoke at considerable 
length, and gave the names of the trustees as a 
security that nothing of a Romanising tendency 
could be reasonably feared ; viz. Sir Percival Hey- 
wood, the donor of the land &hd 1500/. for the 
proposed school, Mr. Hubbard, the founder of 
St. Alban’s church in London, Mr. Tritton and 
Mr. Hope himself, the principal founders of All 
Saints’ church in Margaret Street, and Lord 
Cranbourne, Mr. Hope’s brother in law. 

Then Dr. Lowe spoke, and caused considerable 
excitement by saying, ‘ The boys in the school at 
Hurstmoncieux are allowed, but by the permis¬ 
sion of their parents only, to come to confession, 
and to receive absolution, if they are unable (as 
the Prayerbook says) by the usual means to 
satisfy their own conscience, and require, further 
comfort or advice. ... We have no system of 
confession, under which your child can be en¬ 
couraged to press into it: he must abide by the 
simple rule of the Church; and under no cir¬ 
cumstances, except that of the child being unable 


226 Confession at Hurstmoncieux. 

to go to Communion with a quiet conscience, 
can his confession be received.’ And in answer 
to a question from some one in the meeting he 
said—‘ I do not encourage confession.’ 

Dr. Lowe further said, that so far from his 
own bishop, of Chichester, having withdrawn his 
support from the schools, as somebody had 
alleged, he gives no less than ioo/. a-year to 
them; and no one will accuse the bishop of 
Chichester of extreme opinions. In consequence 
of the excitement on this subject of confession 
and absolution, the bishop of Lichfield thought 
it necessary to speak again; and in these his very 
last words in public we see once more his usual 
readiness to give all possible credit for honesty 
and truth to those he had to deal with, the same 
desire to put the real question before his hearers 
in the most explicit way, and the same ability 
to say the best that could honestly be said for 
the purpose: 

‘ The feeling manifested in some parts of this meet¬ 
ing, when the subject of confession was mentioned, 
makes me desirous, with the permission of your noble 
chairman, to say a few words. I wish this subject 
to be thoroughly understood. Now, if the confession, 
which is allowed occasionally at Hurstpierpoint, ap¬ 
proached at all to what is called ‘auricular confession,’ 

The bishop's last speech, 227 

that is, the confession of the Church of Rome, that 
would at once, in my mind, be a fatal objection to my 
having anything to do with the place. The Church 
of Rome requires confession. We are met here to 
support a Church of England institution. The Church 
of England does not require confession. The Church 
of England, I should say, does not encourage confes¬ 
sion ; but the Church of England, under certain cir¬ 
cumstances, permits it Now I wish to be thoroughly 
understood. "I am speaking to members of the Church, 
those who are acquainted with its formularies. The 
Church of England says, when persons are preparing 
to go to the Holy Communion, if they cannot 
satisfy their own minds after anxious self-examination 
and prayer, ‘Let them go to one of its appointed 
* ministers and open their minds to him.’ This is 
only under the circumstance of preparation for the 
Holy Communion. 

* Now this is just what is done at Lancing, and 
what I suppose will be done at Denstone, only under 
those particular circumstances, when the relief is 
wanted for an uneasy conscience. The Church of 
England supplies it under those particular circum¬ 
stances, but only as a preparation for the Holy Com¬ 
munion. Nothing will be done here but what the 
Church of England, as anybody will see by looking 
in his prayer book, sanctions in her formularies. It 
-seems to me that you can hardly do less. Observe : 

a 2 


His last words in public , 

when Dr. Lowe was asked distinctly, ‘ Do you en¬ 
courage confession,’ he gave a distinct answer, like a 
plain, honest man, ‘ No but you could not refuse 
to permit confession under those special circum¬ 

' But look; they really have a special guard ; they 
really do not, under those special circumstances, allow 
confession—which the Church of England expressly 
admits—except with the permission of the parents. 
I do not see myself, if that be right in any other 
class,—I do not see why young, intelligent, thought¬ 
ful, religious-minded lads of sixteen, seventeen, or 
eighteen, for I suppose they seldom go to the Com¬ 
munion before the age of sixteen, should not have, 
if they really want it, that comfort which the Church 
of England, whether rightly or wrongly (for that is 
not the question with us here) provides for its mem¬ 
bers. I wish this to be distinctly understood. I trust 
that we may hear no more expressions of alarm or 
suspicion about auricular confession. There is no 
such thing. Nothing will be done there but what the 
Church of England permits.’ 

The bishop knew full well (as I had occasion 
to remark before) the difference between reasons 
and excuses, and that the whole practical question 
was and is, whether the future master of the Den- 
stone school will act bond fide on the principle 

on the Denstone school. 229 

of Dr. Lowe, of ‘not encouraging confession’ 
directly or indirectly, or even allowing it without 
the consent of parents; and that it depends no 
less on the individual master of the school, 
whether the absolution spoken of by Dr. Lowe 
is k to be merely (as the Prayer book says) ‘the 
benefit of absolution by the ministry of God’s 
holy Word together with ghostly counsel and 
advice,’ or something of a very different kind. 
On these points he was willing^’to give credit to 
the authors of the scheme. I cannot pretend to 
deny that other persons might reasonably require 
some further guarantee. But I am not concerned 
with it further than having to record fairly what 
the Bishop wrote and said, and to take care that 
his support of it shall rest on the true grounds, 
and not be made to carry more weight than he 
intended it to bear. He supported it in the 
belief that ‘ the fair limits of the Church of 
England ’ would not be transgressed in one direc¬ 
tion, as he had supported other things and other 
men in the belief that they did not. transgress 
those limits in the opposite direction. For 
the present, according to all the documents 
tfyat I have seen, the matter rests there, on 
the names of the trustees, and Mr. Woodard’s 
promise that the government of the school is* 

His last letters . 


to be in a local council, as the Bishop had 


A story has got abroad that he was left longer 
without food than usual on that day. Oddly 
enough the contrary happens to be the fact; for 
on account of his early breakfast he had some¬ 
thing to eat before the meeting, and luncheon 
after it later than his usual time. He appeared 
to some persons flushed and heated then; but he 
talked cheerfully as usual, both at the luncheon 
and coming home with his daughter in the car¬ 
riage till he fell asleep, as his habit was. 

His married daughters happened” both to be 
at Eccleshall, but neither of their husbands, nor 
his sons. They also saw him when he came in 
and he talked a little to them and seemed 
quite well, but very tired. Then he went to 
his study, put off dinner till 8 o’clock, a little 
after post time, and wrote the twenty letters of 
which I spoke before. He came to dinner look¬ 
ing very pale, and said ‘ Those letters are too 
much for meand in answer to a question from 
his daughters he said he ‘felt strange but not 
faint.’ He had told one of the servants just 
before dinner that he felt ill: but that was not 
• known till afterwards. He drank some wine, and 

His death . 


began to eat his dinner, but asked one of his 
daughters to carve for him, which was quite 
unusual; and said, ‘What a comfort it is to 
have you all here.’ Presently, without saying 
anything, he laid his head upon his hand, and 
then fell back, breathed heavily for a few 
minutes, and was dead. 

The doctors agreed that the cause was the 
rupture of a bloodvessel in the brain, brought 
on by the work of writing alf’those letters, after 
the excitement and exertion of the morning. 
Probably the mischief was done by that exertion. 
For local reasons his funeral took place on the 
fifth day after his death, sooner than was gene¬ 
rally expected. The clergy who knew of it came 
from all parts of the diocese, to the number of 
nearly aoo, filling, with the parishioners, all the 
available space within the unfinished walls of the 
parish church of Eccleshall, in which his voice 
had been expected to be heard again at the 
opening service within a few months. 

His three archdeacons were there, and the 
venerable chancellor of the diocese, and his old 
friend Archdeacon Hale, only one of the five 
being much younger than himself; and others 
were only prevented from coming from long 
distances by the shortness of the time. No 

232 Sayings of the people on his death. 

application was made for relaxation of the law 
which now wisely prohibits burials within the 
walls of churches without express leave from 
the Secretary of State. His family knew how 
indifferent he was about such things, and above 
all, that he would never have allowed any dis¬ 
pensation to be asked for him. So he was 
buried in the churchyard by the little gate near 
the gardens of the castle, through which he 
used to walk to church. 

The poor are not rich in their vocabulary. 
The saying that we heard most from them was 
the expressive one, ‘What a pity he is dead.’ 
‘ He was such a comfortable man,’ was another; 
and those who could remember five bishops said, 
‘ We never had such people here before, and we 
never shall again.’ For one or two Sundays after 
his funeral nearly all the people were in mourn¬ 
ing, as for a royal death; and so they were at 
Lichfield. One who knows as much as anybody 
of the bishops and clergy of England, said to me 
in Yorkshire, when the news of his death came, 
‘ He is the only bishop for whom any real tears 
will be shed.’ Such sayings are of course not 
to be taken literally; but though the deaths 
of a few distinguished men have been greater 
public calamities, I remember no such general 

General grief at it. 

2 33 

demonstrations of personal grief for the death 
of any man ; and the fact that he had so little 
of a public character makes this the more 

Even the newspapers in which no one expected 
more than the bare fact, that ‘the Bishop of 
Lichfield died suddenly on Saturday,’ contributed 
their testimony to his wise, fatherly, and impartial 
rule. Many of the paragraphs were doubtless 
the effusions of private affectidh ; but they prove 
how widely that affection was spread; and they 
would not have been printed if the editors had not 
known that they represented the feeling of the 
public. Those in the Times and the Guardian 
were copied into so many other papers that it is 
superfluous to reprint them here. The phrase by 
which he was commonly designated in public had 
gradually changed from ‘ our revered diocesan ’ to 
‘ the good bishopwhere, as usual, the simple 
words meant much more than the grand ones. 
The long delay and unusual difficulty in finding 
a successor were another tribute to his memory. 
His great shadow hangs over the place, and it 
might well be feared that the light of smaller 
men would be eclipsed by it. 

On the 9th of December 1867 a diocesan meet¬ 
ing was held at^Lichfield, convened by the Lords 

2 34 

Proposed memorials of him. 

Lieutenants of the three counties, to consider what 
public memorial of him should be erected. The 
chairman said that the result of their long previous 
deliberations was that no one scheme could be 
propounded with a prospect of general assent, ex¬ 
cept a monument in the cathedral: that no less 
than ten schemes had been proposed and con¬ 
sidered ; but that the conveners of the meeting 
had resolved to leave each archdeaconry or dis¬ 
trict to adopt such local memorials as they pleased. 

I do not Know what the other nine pro- 
poposals were ; nor is it now material to inquire. 
The promoters of the Denstone school naturally 
availed themselves of the connection of that 
scheme with his • death, to raise subscriptions for 
a ‘Lonsdale wing’ to be erected as part of the 
building. Besides that, separate subscriptions 
are being raised for a memorial church in Derby; 
for the rebuilding of the nave of St. Mary’s 
Lichfield, a church doubly connected with bishop 
Lonsdale’s memory by family ties, and partly 
rebuilt as a monument to his brother already 
(see p. 32,) ; and above all, for the completion 
of that which was specially his own church of 
Eccleshall, and which now possesses the addi¬ 
tional claim of b'eing in fact, by force of events 
which cannot be altered, his monumental church, 

The Cathedral monument. 235 

overshadowing his grave, and bearing his epitaph 
(see pp. 126 and 250). 

Respecting the cathedral monument I repeat 
here what has been already published—not speak¬ 
ing now as the Bishop’s son in law, but as a 
church-builder of a good many years’ experience 
—that it is to be hoped that with such models 
before our eyes as the tombs of archbishop Walter 
Gray at York and bishops Cantilupe and D’Aqua- 
blanca at Hereford, the Perc/’shrine in Beverley 
Minster, and many others, bishop" Lonsdale will 
be allowed to repose in Lichfield cathedral in the 
attitude of the bishops and kings of the age of 
the cathedrals, and not be set up in the impos¬ 
sible and ostentatious posture to which one of 
his recent predecessors has been undeservedly 
condemned; and that we shall be spared the 
infliction of one more gorgeous and inharmonious 
fabric in the ‘ eclectic style ’ of this age : all original 
styles of architecture being probably exhausted. 
Perhaps the architects will try for once, if only for 
variety, to imitate a little of the simplicity of the 
old monuments, no less than of the character of 
the man whom this is to commemorate; not that 
any man’s estimation with posterity depends upon 
his effigy; but a great cathedral monument is a 
matter of general concern. 


Happiness of his life , 

If I have at all succeeded in telling the story of 
his life it is needless to add any description or re¬ 
view of his character ; and if I have not, I should 
certainly fail equally in attempting any such 
description now. Those whose good fortune it 
was to know him well will want no help of mine 
to keep alive their recollection of such a man 
as they will never see again. Those who knew 
him not must be content with what has now 
passed into the region of tradition. The im¬ 
pression of his character will long survive the 
facts which produced it. 

I am however able to present two pictures of 
him by other hands: one, his archdeacon of 
Salop, whom he brought from King’s College 
London, and who was his chief examining chap¬ 
lain during all his 24 years: the other, the head 
master for nearly 30 years of the school first 
made famous (in modern times at least) by his 
own predecessor bishop Butler. His successor 
has most truly said of him in public that he ‘ left 
an example as near perfection as was possible for 
any human being.’ 

But there is yet one thing more to notice. We 
know the saying of the wisest pagan, that no man 
can be pronounced happy till his death. Bishop 
Lonsdale may now be pronounced singularly 

and of his death. 


happy both in his life and in his death. His 
early success at school and college : his steady 
advancement for a long time under two arch¬ 
bishops and two of the wisest statesmen of his 
time (Peel and Lyndhurst): health which never 
failed so far as to stop his work: means always 
beyond the wants of his simple mode of life: the 
love of many friends, both old and new; arid the 
affection and respect which he won everywhere, 
among people of all ranks, ag£&, and opinions: a 
family who were all that he could desire; and his 
children’s children rising up full of promise : even 
his one domestic sorrow, the loss of his wife, made 
up to him as far as possible by the well known 
assiduity, ability, and discretion of the daughter 
who was left with him :—all these, with his won¬ 
derful cheerfulness and freshness of spirit, and en¬ 
joyment of all that was good in every thing and 
every man, make up a sum of blessings such as 
is allotted to. very few. So we have seen him 
speaking more than once of ‘the goodness and 
mercy which had followed him all the- days of his 

And at last, while he was rejoicing in the 
presence of his three daughters, he was (as it 
were) translated, without tasting any pains of 
death ; not in the labour and sorrow of fourscore 

2 3 8 


years, but with his eye scarcely dim or his natural 
force abated; for he had that very day lifted up 
his voice in public, with a force unheard from 
him before, in defence of the cause of education 
and the Church against an opposition which he 
thought prejudiced and unfair. 

The same end, or one much worse, of disability 
from gradual decay, or from paralysis, would pro¬ 
bably have come before long if this had not. If 
it was hastened by the exertions of that last day, 
as it doubtless was, then indeed it may be added 
that he poured out his life in his work, mindful 
to the last of the words, which for their beauty 
might be those of a heathen poet, but were the' 
words of a Christian poet; for they were his own 
(p. 326); and we may well suppose them spoken 
by the Master whom he followed, from his youth 
when he wrote them, to his old age and the 
moment when he realised them :— 

I, studiis incumbe bonis ; sic, Me'duce, vises 
.dLthera, sic victa morte superstes eris. 

Recollections of the Bishop. 



The College, Ely, 26 Dec. 1867. 
My dear Mr. DENISON, —Most of the letters which 
I have received during twenty four years from my 
kind and dear friend and diocesan, the late Bishop of 
Lichfield, are out of my reach at-this time. But if 
j I had them now for reference, they \yould only add 
one illustration more to a subject on which, for once, 
there exists little or no difference of opinion. All the 
good and wise, who knew Bishop Lonsdale by report 
alone, revered his character. All who knew him by 
personal intimacy revered and loved him. And those 
who knew him best revered and loved him most. 

To speak of him first as a scholar:—where could we 
look for a more accomplished and well-stored mind, a 
more elegant taste, a nicer and happier judgment, 
more graceful refinement of thought and expression ? 
Who could be cited as a more complete example of 
the humanizing influences of a classical, education? 
[I omit a few facts already stated.] 

As a working bishop, his character and conduct 
need no commendation of mine. They were the 
subject of general praise and wonder. So much work 
done, so punctually and so well, at so advanced an 


Dr, Kennedy s 

age. And here let me say, my dear Sir, that you and 
the rest of the Bishop’s family must surely feel, as 
Tacitus felt of his father-in-law Agricola, that he was 
‘felix opportunitate mortis.’ At the age of eighty, 
every year added to his life would have made him less 
able to do well the work he had long done so very 
well; less able to do it with comfort and satisfaction 
to himself, and with advantage to his large and diffi¬ 
cult diocese. Therefore the sudden and painless 
death of one always prepared to die, in the midst of 
good work in his master's cause, after a day of work, 
in which he had shown his usual self-denial in the per¬ 
formance of duty, seems to have been a happy event 
for himself and his family, a happy event for the 
Church, the noble and exemplary death of a Christian 

I am not entitled to speak with any authority of 
the opinions entertained by Bishop Lonsdale on 
doctrinal and ritual questions at issue within our 
Church. But now and then I have had occasion to 
correspond or to converse with him on controverted 
topics. Nor have I been at any time unobservant of 
his line of action and his language when debate arose 
respecting things spiritual and ecclesiastical. And the 
general impression left upon my mind is this : that he 
was a High Churchman of the old school, broadened 
by experience, and inclining always to moderation and 

recollections of the Bishop . 


As a friend and social companion we all know that 
he was the kindest of the kind, the most genial of 
genial men. His manner was a happy and most 
enviable gift of nature, improved by education, and 
perfected by society. His frank cheeriness and easy 
address made every one at home with him: his 
sprightly wit, fed from, the stores of a copious and 
prompt memory, enlivened conversation: while dig¬ 
nity was always safe under the guardianship of his 
exquisite taste, sound sense, and strong Christian 

His large benevolence and sympathy were ever on 
the watch for active employment. In my own family 
a visit from him, were it only for an hour at luncheon, 
was an' event eagerly welcomed by every inmate. Nor 
can any of us ever look back without grateful affection 
to his unsolicited and generous kindness in coming to 
London two years ago, in the most ungenial weather, 
to perform the marriage service of my youngest 

When we and all who knew and loved him are 
gone (may it be) whither he is gone, his memory will 
still be cherished as the exemplar of a great Christian 
Bishop. After the first emotions of sorrow for such a 
loss were over, on whom, I thought, can that mantle 
worthily devolve? The first name which occurred to 
me was that of his present successor. The second 
was that of one in whom those who know him find 


Archdeacon A lieds 


only one great fault, an excessive modesty which does 
injustice to his own signal merits. Well will it be for 
some other of our English sees if he shall ever be 
persuaded, though against his own wish, to occupy it. 

Believe me, dear Mr. Denison, 

Yours very faithfully 
B. H. Kennedy. 


Prees, Shrewsbury, Nov. 9, 1867. 

My dear DENISON, — Y ou have asked me to send 
to you my impressions of Bishop Lonsdale. 

I began to work under him in the close of 1838, 
when, as supplying the absence of Mr. Hugh James 
Rose, he came to King’s College London to do the 
work of the Principal 

I was first struck with his marvellous kindness. 
I felt that I had never known one who shewed so 
much sympathy, so much consideration for others. 
It seemed as if he could not say a harsh word to one, 
and that if it was necessary to give an admonition to 
recall one to greater exactitude in duty, this admoni¬ 
tion was only given by his increased gentleness and 
kindness and affection. 

No one could be more careful to abstain from 

recollections of the Bishop. 


words of religious profession: no one has seemed to 
me more effectually by his silent conduct to preach 
continually the highest and most necessary duties, 
overcoming evil with good. 

Working as an inferior under him I was greatly 
impressed by his never sparing his own toil, by his 
being always ready to take the labouring oar. 

His excessive care however to do accurate justice, 
for a short time after he first came in the Principal’s 
place at King’s College, doubled ray work in the 
looking over of papers. The theological teaching of 
the students was at that time left with the Principal 
and the Chaplain. There were a large number of 
written answers to questions to be looked over by the 
Principal every fortnight, the names of the students 
being arranged after each fortnightly examination 
according to the merit of their answers in eight or 
ten classes. The work was very laborious. When 
Mr. Lonsdale first came to King’s College, having 
made his list of the classified names in these fort¬ 
nightly examinations, he would have me to go through 
the same papers to try if his estimate agreed with 
mine. He found however, after two or thjee experi¬ 
ments, that there was no substantial difference be¬ 
tween the results that each of us had attained sepa¬ 
rately, and he then ceased to require my services in 
that matter. 

The preaching of the sermon on the Sunday after- 

R 2 


Archdeacon A lieds 

noon at King’s College Chapel was my work. I was 
at that time twenty-seven years of age. He did me 
the great but unusual service of always noticing before 
I went home any failure in accuracy of statement, 
any awkwardness of expression, any defective arrange¬ 
ment in the sermon I had just been preaching. These 
friendly criticisms often provoked discussion, but they 
greatly drew my affection to him, I regarded him as 
a father, I treasured up all that came from him, I 
have, as I believe, at this time every scrap of his 
writing that he ever sent to me, with the exception 
of a single letter. 

He was specially watchful in regard to theological 
teaching that the exact meaning of each passage of 
Scripture adduced should as far as possible be appre¬ 
ciated, that no more should be put into the words 
than they could fairly be understood to mean, that 
the connexion in which the texts were found should 
always be held in view. 

His own sermons seemed to me to have simplicity, 
freshness, weight, from his diligent study of the Scrip¬ 
tures, joined to his strong practical sense. Very few 
remarks in his sermons were as I think suggested by 
any books except commentaries on the Scriptures. 
At every step his teaching was fortified by the most 
apposite quotations from Scripture. His sermons in 
their general character sometimes reminded me of 
Bishop Sanderson, a writer who affords me special 

recollections of the Bishop . 245 

instruction and delight; but Bishop Sanderson was 
not with him a favourite writer. 

Every year* that I knew Bishop Lonsdale it 
seemed to me that his character grew in firmness. 
As larger and larger demands were made on his 
highest qualities, it seemed to me that those demands 
were always met with increased courage and wisdom 
and charity. 

I have heard it said when he was at King’s College, 
and when he sometimes seemed/ns we thought, over 
careful to take counsel with others,Mr. Lonsdale 
has an excellent judgment if he will but rely on his 
own.’ It sometimes was his practice, when he was 
specially anxious to come to a right judgment on a 
matter that arose for consideration, to veil his own 
opinion for a time, if that opinion agreed with your 
own, and to ply you with all the difficulties that 
occurred to him as possible to be urged from the 
opposite side of the question, so that the matter 
might be looked at in all lights, and the fallacy, if 
any, that was lurking in your reasoning might be 
brought into view. His mind seemed to me emi¬ 
nently judicial; the weaker side of a case was fully 
considered before his decision was come to. 

If a pleasant thing was said of another in his 
absence, if a kind word was to be communicated that 
would be likely to render two men more heartily dis¬ 
posed to work together for good, Bishop Lonsdale 


Archdeacon Allens 

never lost the opportunity for setting forward charity 
for provoking others to love and to good works. 

When he was first appointed Bishop, I sometimes 


thought, as examining' chaplain, that his sympathy, 
with the candidates for holy orders made him over 
scrupulous about rejecting the less competent. But 
,in later years his judgment changed in this matter, 
and his caution to me then was, ‘ Be sure that you 
narrowly test their acquirements, and do not present 
any that seem to you unfit.’* It was one of his say¬ 
ings, that if a clergyman were an angel from heaven, 
and did not pay his debts, his usefulness was at an end. 

His care to answer every letter, and every sentence 
of a letter, sometimes exposed him, as I thought, to 
the inroads of correspondents, not over scrupulous 
about occupying his time, who would write to him 
without necessjty, and enter upon matters of no press¬ 
ing importance, that they might have the pleasure 
of reading to others the remarks elicited from him. 
When one knew that in the winter mornings he was 
up early, writing letters by candlelight, to clear off 
his daily score of work, one grudged every demand 
on his time that could in reason have been spared. 
Pamphlets came to him, that were laboriously read 
through as he travelled, and were not 'simply acknow¬ 
ledged but commented on to the writer. 

When, in 1847, I was appointed Archdeacon, the 

It seldom happened that all the candidates were passed. 

recollections of the Bishop. 


Bishop said to me, There are two matters to which 
I wish you to give special attention; first, that so 
far as you can, you will allow no clergyman to officiate 
in the archdeaconry without a licence ; second, that 
you will do what is in your power to organise, and 
give effect to, ruridecanal chapters of the clergy. 
The Bishop did not regard with much favour clerical 
meetings where clergymen mainly of the same views 
meet each other ; he thought that such meetings had 
a tendency to narrow men’s sympathies, and to en¬ 
courage party spirit But he greatjy desired the 
prevalence of ruridecanal chapters, where every 
licensed clergyman had a right to be present at the 
summons of the rural dean. These chapters, in the 
Bishop’s judgment, helped to enlarge men’s sympa¬ 
thies, and tp provoke us to love and to good works.' 
He drew up rules for our guidance, which prescribed 
that previously to entering on the business of the 
meeting the members should unite in prayer at 
church; that church extension at home and abroad, 
and education, with a view to their effectual further- . 
ance in the several parishes of the deanery, should 
take precedence of other topics of discussion ; and 
that these topics should as much as possible be of a 
practical and parochial character, excluding such as 
tend to theological debate.* 

* These meetings must not be confounded with Synods assuming 
a power of legislation or decision. He never recommended them. 

Archdeacon Aileds 


t All his great powers were given to his work. He 
was happy in himself and it was a happiness to have 
anything to do with him. He drew others to co¬ 
operate heartily with him by his singular forgetfulness 
of self, his affectionate sympathy, his careful attention 
to the minutest claim of duty, his justice, toleration, 
^ charity. His memory of the circumstances of those 
with whom he had to deal was perhaps unrivalled. 
His munificence stirred up others. His strong prac¬ 
tical sense joined to the simplicity and godly sincerity 
of his character gave churchmen of all opinions con¬ 
fidence in his fatherly oversight Probably there is 
no diocese less stirred by party feeling * and in which 
there is more zeal in setting forward good works. 

At the recent congress at Wolverhampton he pre¬ 
sided at the meetings in the morning, in the after¬ 
noon, and in the evening, and it seemed to many that 
the best and most necessary things were there said 
by the president in the happiest and most vigorous 
manner. Those who witnessed the scene when he 
took leave of the meeting on the 4th of October will 
not readily forget the enthusiasm with which his part¬ 
ing words were received. 

He was singularly reticent as to his deepest feel- 


t The next three paragraphs have appeared already in several 

* This may be true, as the Bishop also used to say, in the arch¬ 
deaconry of Salop, but I am afraid there is sufficient proof in these 
pages that it is not so in the other two. 

recollections of the Bishop. 


ings. I never recollect him speaking but once to me 
of the principles by which he was guided in the dis¬ 
charge of his episcopal office. It was many years 
ago under the beech trees at Eccleshall in reference 
to some complication that had arisen. I cannot give 
his words, but the impression left with me was to the 
following effect—That he who was charged with the, 
work of the diocese, must take up every burden, and 
be the servant of all, and put his shoulder continually 
to the wheel: that he must, if hfe was Bishop, strive 
to remedy the error of the least experienced curate, 
and to remove stumbling blocks out of the way of 
the weakest person under his charge. 

Burnet’s words in reference to Leighton (History 
of my own times, i. 138 fol.) have often come into 
my thoughts since I have lost Bishop Lonsdale. 
Burnet says of Leighton, * I bear the greatest vene¬ 
ration for the memory of that man that I do for any 
person ; and I reckon my early knowledge of him, 
and my long and intimate conversation with him, 
which continued to his death, among.the greatest 
blessings of my life, and for which I know that I 
must give an account to God in the great day in a 
most particular manner.’ 

Yours sincerely, 

John Allen. 


Ep'itaph in Eccleshall Church. 




1 pfeR XXIV fb;re annos 




Epitaph in King's College London. 251 


S. T.P. ; • 


M. P. C. ‘ . 









Verses on the Bishops burial . 

The following verses by, the Bishop’s other son-in-law, the 
Rev. W. Bryans, and by the Rev. J. Gregory Smith, are' 
thought worthy of being preserved here, though, they have 
been published already:— 


Nothing is here for tears, or dull complaint; 

His warfare o’er, his work all nobly done, 

. We thankfully lay down God’s aged saint, 

With throbbing hearts, but now new-brac’d to run 
Life’s lonely course, if God vouchsafe us grace 
To keep the love that shone through that dear face. 

It was a quiet noon: the autumnal breeze 
Scarce stirr’d the yellow leaves that thickly lay 
Along the path beneath the solemn trees, 

All eloquent of death and ‘ calm decay: ’ 

There by the garden gate we laid him down, 

Till he shall rise to wear the golden crown. 

Early and late a worker good and true, 

Of self unsparing, humble, happy, bright, 

In glance and smile diffusing warmth, he drew 
All hearts together by the secret might 
Of love, and swan-like * ere he passed away, 

Again the words of love we heard him say. 

W. B. 

Eccleshall, 24 October, 1867. 

* * Ilia tanquam cycnea fuit divini hominis vox.’—Car. dt Orat, quoted by Bishop 
Lonsdale himself in his Memoir of Rev. T. Rennell, B.D. 

Verses on the Bishop's death. 

2 53 

The autumnal sun sinks calmly to his rest, 

In glory drest, 

Then, while we gaze, with undiminished ray 
Passes away; 

And y<jt we marvel not that he is gone; 

His work of love is done. 

We moilrn not when the harvestmen go forth 
From south to north, 

Where the ripe sheaf among its fellows stands 
Waiting their hands, 

To lay it safe at last within the store 
Where tempests rage no more. 

Yet, now that he is taken from* bur eyes, 

Now most we prize 

The placid wisdom of the good old m^p. 
Whose lengthened span 

Of life seems all too short, if we would prove 
Its measure by our love. 

We lose the kindly voice which stilled the strife 
When storms were rife; 

The bounteous heart, wherein was room for all, 
Or great or small; 

The cheerful .heart, which toiled serenely on 
Until its task was done. 

And most, amid the wild anarchic ways 
Of these our days, 

We miss the sway paternal of the hand, 

Whose mild command 

Could moderate from aberration strange 
The lawless lust of change. 

O loved, revered, grey head, unbowed by years' 
Or selfish fears! 

Chief Pastor true! Thy lifelong toil at last 
Sleeps with the past 

Who but would wish with toils like thine to vie, 
And then like thee to die ? 

October, 1867. 

I. G. S. 







Bishop Lonsdale s sermons . 

2 55 


[Preached at Lincoln’s Inn Chapel on Trinity Sunday, 
14 June 1840.]. 

i Timothy, III. 9. 

‘ Holding the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience.’ 

T HE whole duty of a Christian may be said to be 
Jariefly comprehended in these words ; which 
are closely paralleled in the first chapter of the same 
Epistle, where we read, ‘ Holding faith, and a good 
conscience; which some having put away concerning 
faith have made shipwreck.’ In these sentences, 
applied in the first instance by St. Paul to Christian 
ministers, but applicable, without question, by parity, 
or at least analogy of reason, and by necessary com 
elusion from the whole tenor of Scripture, to every 
member of the Church of Christ—in these pithy sen¬ 
tences, I say, our religious obligations are summed 
up in two particulars: first, the holding of the faith 
to which we have been called ; and secondly, the 



The necessity of faith in 

holding of it in, or together with, ‘ a pure ’ or ‘ good 
conscience.’ And a reciprocal connexion between 
the two is also intimated. 

It may be proper to observe that in my text, 
as in other places of Scripture, the word to which 
‘mystery’ answers is used to describe the doctrines 
of the Christian faith, not as conveying the notion of 
‘ mysteriousness,’ but as expressive of truths, which 
having been kept secret from mankind for ages, or 
but faintly shadowed out under the types and figures 
of the Jewish Law, and in the dark sayings of the 
ancient prophets, had at length been revealed and 
laid open in the Gospel.* 

This observation however has no immediate bear¬ 
ing upon my present purpose, which is to call your 
attention to the two points already stated, bul, espe¬ 
cially to the former of them, as being that, the neces¬ 
sity of which is the more likely to be called into 

To dispute the obligation of endeavouring to ‘ have 
a conscience void of offence towards God and towards 
man,’ few men will presume: to admit in its full 
extent the duty of receiving and holding fast ‘the 
faith which was once delivered unto the saints,’ many 
are indisposed. And what can that faith be but the 
faith to the solemn recognition of which this day, is 

* See Macknight on 1 Cor. ii. 7, and Eph'. i. 9. 

the divinity of Christ. 257 

dedicated, the faith of the Trinity in Unity l For 
the Catholic Church of Christ has never received any 

Into the grounds upon which this faith rests, and 
which I have heretofore set before you, I may surely 
now be excused from entering at large. Into this 
faith we have been baptized ; in this faith we have 
been brought up. We have walked in the house 
of God as familiar friends of this faith, by virtue of 
our communion with a Church . which has not only 
asserted it distinctly and particularly in her for¬ 
mularies, has not only required it to be acknowledged 
and taught by her ministers, but has interwoven it 
also with the whole system of the public worship in 
which all her children join. Let it be enough to say 
that we hold this faith, first, because we are per¬ 
suaded thaf (to use the language of one of our Articles) 
it ‘ may be proved by most certain warrants of Holy- 
Scripture ; ’ and secondly, because we are sure that 
the great body of the Church, from the earliest times 
to the present, has constantly received it upon this 
proof and warranty. We hold it, not as a dogma of 
‘ man’s device ’ (God forbid), but as an integral part, 
or rather as the life and soul, of that Gospel which 
the divine Author of -it committed to the guardian¬ 
ship and administration of his Apostles, with this 
solemn and most significant charge, ‘ Go ye into all 
the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature. 

s 2 


The necessity of faith in 

He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, and 
he that believeth not shall be damned.’ 

What the baptism here required was we are at no 
loss to discover; for we find another Evangelist add¬ 
ing to the charge as recorded by St. Mark, a command 
to baptize ‘in the name of the Father, and of the Son, 
and of the Holy Ghostthe doctrine of the Trinity 
being thus identified with the Gospel which was to be 
preacljed under so awful a sanction. Nor can it be 
denied, that if this view of the matter be taken to 
be the.right one, if the doctrine of the Trinity be 
'assumed to be true (for it is upon this assumption 
that the Church must be understood as speaking), 
the parallel between the saying of our Lord, which I 
have just quoted, and the ‘damnatory clauses’* (as 
they are very wrongly called) in the Confession of 
Faith which we have heard to-day, is complete. Does 
not the authority of the one fully justify the use of 
the other, the words of Scripture being in fact the 
foundation of the words of the Creed ? Must not an 
objector to the latter transfer his objection to the 
former ? Here then we have before us the main¬ 
tenance, not of the fitness of these particular clauses, 
but of the broad general principle upon which belief 

* [Nevertheless we have seen in one of his letters (p. 112) 
that he ‘ wished we were rid of them ’—not of the Athanasian creed 
itself, but of those two clauses which make people dislike it, and 
which he disliked himself, and did not repeat in church, and con¬ 
sidered no part of the credendum, but only a mode of asserting it.] 

the divinity of Christ. 


in the Gospel is required, and unbelief threatened with 
the most fearful punishment. 

To the elucidation of this principle then, especially 
as embodied in that emphatic saying of Christ, let 
us now direct our attention, as to a matter of infinite 
and universal importance, without reference to any 
merely human determination whatsoever. Here is 
the Founder of a new religion commissioning his 
first chosen ministers to disseminate it through all 
the world, and offer it to the,Acceptance of every 
creature ; an utterly unaccountable .commission, by 
the way, if we suppose the speaker to have been 
merely the son of a Galilean carpenter, addressing a 
few fishermen of the same country, and at the same 
time pronouncing a sentence of condemnation upon 
those who should reject it when so offered to them. 
A strange inversion, it may seem, of the province of 
human reason : a most objectionable restraint upon 
the exercise of that moral liberty which belongs to 
man* This line of objection appears to have been 
judged so formidable by some, that they have endea¬ 
voured to evade it by supposing that this damnatory 
prediction of our Lord was uttered with a view only 
to the age of the Apostles, when the word preached 
of the Gospel would be confirmed by miracles so 
mighty and indisputable as would not fail to produce 

* Cf. ‘Three Discourses/ (II. and III.) by J. L., on Matt. xvi. 
16, preached at Cambridge, 1820. [The Bishop’s own note.] 


The necessity of faith in 

conviction in every honest mind, and would therefore 
leave the unbeliever without excuse. 

It is true that in the very next verse a promise is 
made of the wonderful signs that should ‘ follow them 
that believed and in the last verse of the chapter we 
find the fulfilment of the promise recorded: which 
might give some countenance to this supposition, were 
there no other Scriptural authority to make us appre¬ 
hend that a rejection of the Gospel will be attended by 
consequences highly penal. 

But the passage now before us is no solitary one. 
Those who are well acquainted with the Christian 
oracles need not be informed that they often, and 
in terms of general applicability, represent unbelief 
as a sin of the first magnitude, and of the greatest 
danger ; that they contain the most earnest cautions, 
and the most fearful threatenings, against it. 

What, for example, can be stronger than those words 
of our Lord in the third chapter of St. John’s Gospel: 
‘ He that believeth not is condemned already, because 
he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten 
Son of God or than those of his inspired harbinger, 
in the same chapter, ‘ He that believeth on the Son 
hath everlasting life; and he that believeth not on 
the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God 
abideth on him.’ It was not for nothing that the 
Apostle enjoined the Hebrews (Heb. iii. 12) to beware 
lest there should be in any of them ‘ an evil heart 

the divinity of Christ. 


of unbelief.’ If again we compare the manifestly 
parallel passages, Matt. xxiv. 51, and Luke xii. 46, 
with each other, we shall learn, upon the authority 
of Christ himself, that ‘ hypocrites and unbelievers ’ 
are persons whose respective designations may be 
mutually interchanged, and who are to have one 
common portion. And with this classing of them 
together agrees that terrible doom of ‘ the second 
death,’ declared in the Ap&calypse (xxi. 8) to await 
the * unbelieving,’ among ‘ the abominable, murderers,’ 
and others. It is plain therefore, that if Scripture is 
to be our rule, we must look for some more satisfactory 
answer to the objection under our notice. 

But though the condemnation denounced, by a 
Judge from whose sentence there is no appeal (what¬ 
ever there may be from the Church speaking in her 
Confessions of Faith), cannot be restricted to such as 
heard the preaching or witnessed the miracles of Jesus 
or his Apostles, there are those, it is almost super¬ 
fluous to remind you, to whom it cannot be extended ; 
namely, they whom the ‘ good tidings ’ of a redeem¬ 
ing Saviour have either never reached at all, or to 
whom they have been communicated in a form and 
under circumstances materially detracting from their 
apparent credibility, or offering almost insurmount¬ 
able obstacles to their reception. Such a case may 
be more easily imagined than defined. This excep¬ 
tion in fact must be reasonably inferred from that 

2 62 

The necessity of faith in 

command of our Lord to ' preach the Gospel ’ which 
immediately precedes the sentence of condemnation 
pronounced against him that ‘ believeth not.’ For, 
as the Apostle Paul argues, ' how shall they believe 
in him of Miom they have not heard ?’ (Rom. x. 14.) 
To call them indeed * unbelievers ’ is an abuse of 
language; since the terms ‘belief’ and ‘unbelief’ 
necessarily imply the idea of articles of faith pro¬ 
posed. There is a real as well as an apparent dif¬ 
ference between unavoidable, or almost unavoidable 
ignorance, and voluntary rejection—between those 
whom ‘the day-spring from on high’ has never or 
very faintly and partially visited, and those who shut 
their eyes against its meridian beams ; and we have 
abundant ground for being satisfied that there will be 
a no less difference in the portion awarded to each in 
‘ the great day ’ of account. 

In what particular balance they who belong to the 
former of these classes will be weighed hereafter we 
are not explicitly informed ; though we do read that 
they have ‘ a law written in their hearts,’ and ‘ a con¬ 
science bearing witness ’ (Rom. ii. 15). Undoubtedly 
it will be a balance of truth and justice ; un¬ 
doubtedly ‘the Judge of all the earth will do right’ 
(Gen. xviii. 25). And this conviction is quite enough 
for us to rest upon in a matter which does not concern 
ourselves. Again, it is conceivable that even in a 
Christian land there may be persons of intellectual or 

the divinity of Christ. 263 

moral temperament so peculiar, or under external 
circumstances of such disadvantage, as may make 
unbelief of much less guilt than in ordinary instances. 
But as God, and not man, is the judge in such cases, 
no extraordinary situation of this kind ‘ ought to 
occasion us any uneasiness. It is not to be supposed 
that a Judge all-wise and albpowerful will proceed 
mechanically: his remission of punishment, as well 
as his adjusting of rewards may fully be believed 
•capable of suiting all situations, however nice and 
complicated.’* Full opportunity and capacity of 
believing are manifestly presumed in the damna¬ 
tory declarations to which we are referring; and 
they cannot with a shadow of propriety be applied 
to any case where these, from whatever cause, are 

Leaving therefore such cases, let us proceed to the 
examination of the objection stated. And first let 
us observe what argument may, or rather must, be 
brought to bear upon the subject from the circum¬ 
stances under which Christianity originally claimed, 
and indeed still claims, the attention of the world; 
and also from the divine attributes, considered with 
reference to any revelation from God to man. To 
determine then whether the tremendous sanction 
which we have seen to be annexed to the proposal 

* See Hey’s Lectures, vol. iii. p. 107. [The Bishop used to 
recommend that book.] 


The necessity of faith in 

of the doctrines of Christianity, especially by the 
Person who first promulgated them, might have been 
reasonably expected or not, let us call to mind who 
that person professes to be, and with what pretensions 
and titles he presents himself before us. Does he 
appear only as some unauthorized teacher, venting 
upon the world the visions of an uncertain imagina¬ 
tion, or the conclusions of an imperfect judgment ? 
Does he claim our attention only as some child of 
dust, like ourselves, extracting from the scanty stores 
of human knowledge and wisdom such counsels as he 
may conceive calculated to promote the welfare of his 
brethren of the earth, and then presuming to anathe¬ 
matize those who shall have the hardihood to dispute 
his infallibility ? I need not say that he with whom, 
as to the matter in- question, we have to do, appears 
before us in a character very different from this. He 
appears as that mysterious Being who ‘was in the 
beginning with God,’ and * was God ’ (John i. 1) ; 
as ‘ King of kings, and Lord of lords ’ (Rev. xvii. 14, 
xix. 16); ‘the First and the Last’ (Rev. i. 11, 17); 
as One ‘ by whom and for whom all things were 
created’ (Col. i. 16) ; and who is ‘ordained’ to be 
the final Judge of all mankind, both ‘ quick and 
dead’ (Acts x. 42). 

Nay, more ; he exhibits still further claims to our 
reverential observance. This Almighty, Everlasting 
One, is represented as having disrobed himself of that 

the divinity of Christ. 


divine ‘glory which he had before the world was’ 
(John xvii. 5) i as having put on the garb of mortality; 
and even died a death of shame and agony; that he 
might work out for us a deliverance to which our own 
powers were altogether inadequate ; that he might 
purchase for us present peace and future happiness, at 
a price which we ourselves could never by any possi¬ 
bility have paid. Or if, for the sake of argument, we 
ascribe to him the very lowest rank which man has 
thought fit to allow him, still he will appear as an am¬ 
bassador from heaven to earth, invested, even by the 
admission of those who would degrade him to the con¬ 
dition of mere humanity, with authority and power far 
exceeding any that were ever before or have ever 
since been given to a human being. 

And now let us ask, whether, even according to 
this last-mentioned, as it appears to us, most un-' 
scriptural view of his nature and office, it was befit¬ 
ting the dignity of one so highly commissioned, and 
so pre-eminently empowered to execute his commis¬ 
sion, that he should deliver his embassy without any 
threat against those who should dare to deny its 
authenticity ; that he should throw it out- as it were 
at random, to take its chance among mankind, and be 
received or rejected as their caprice might dictate ? 
Was it, I say, proper that a religion purporting tc^ 
be introduced by such a person, and under such cir¬ 
cumstances, should be left to the world, to be treated * 

af>6 The necessity of faith in 

with indifference, or contempt, or hatred, as indo¬ 
lence, or pride, or profligacy might suggest; without 
any denunciation of punishment against those who 
should so treat it ? It is surely worthy of consi¬ 
deration whether this would not have been incon¬ 
sistent with claims so very extraordinary ; and have 
had the effect of* detracting from their weight, by 
tacitly admitting the possibility of their not being 
sufficiently attested and confirmed, to invalidate all 
pretences for refusing to allow them. 

But further, if we look at the matter more closely, 
and with reference to those moral and intellectual 
qualities (I would speak reverently) which must ne¬ 
cessarily be ascribed to the Founder of Christianity, 
or at least to him in whose eternal counsefs Chris¬ 
tianity professes to have originated, we shall find that 
the awful warnings under our notice are so far from 
being irreconcilable with those qualities, that, had no 
such warnings been recorded, it would have been very 
difficult to account for the omission. The very sup¬ 
position of a divine revelation includes the notion of 
its being accompanied with evidence sufficient to 
satisfy every attentive and upright mind. For who 
that has worthy conceptions of the Deity can imagine, 
either that his knowledge and wisdom could possibly 
fail in estimating the measure of evidence necessary 
for satisfaction, or that his goodness would permit 
him to withhold it ? Well therefore might he pro- 

the divinity of Christ* 


nounce beforehand a sentence of condemnation upon 
those whom such evidence should fail to satisfy. But 
the .truth is that these very threatenings, which have 
given so much offence, are a striking manifestation of 
the different attributes just named, especially of the 
divine goodness. The design of Christianity is so 
^benevolent, being indeed (as I have already reminded 
you) no other than that of conducting men to happi¬ 
ness hereafter by the paths of peace, that the salutary 
* terrors of the Lord ’ (to use St. Paul’s expression), 
which are employed to enforce its reception (as far as 
force can be applied to a being morally free, and 
therefore morally accountable), are among the highest 
exercises and the purest emanations of heavenly 

But there are other reasons of a more directly 
moral kind, and more nearly connected with the latter 
of the, points contained in my text, which will tend 
powerfully to open our eyes to the duty of Christian 
belief, and to the sin and danger of unbelief. Should 
it appear that the unbelief condemned by the law of 
Christ is in its nature such as may properly be made 
the subject of condemnation, all just cause of com¬ 
plaint on this head will vanish. Now it has been 
often urged that if the Christian religion be open to 
free inquiry (as we know, not only from /eason, but 
from its own express and repeated declarations, that 
it is)—if the truth or falsehood of it is to be decided 


The necessity of faith in 

by natural evidence, belief or unbelief must depend 
upon the light in which that evidence may appear to 
us : and should our examination terminate in .the 
latter, it would be a result over which we had no 
control, and for which consequently we could not in 
justice be liable to punishment. 

But whatever speciousness there may be in this 
way of arguing, it is in truth founded upon a partial 
representation of the case. In questions indeed of 
abstract speculation the understanding is the sole 
judge ; and its assent or dissent, being uninfluenced by 
the will, cannot be properly subject to either praise or ' 
censure. But in those which have a practical nature 
and tendency it is far otherwise. Who has not observed 
that the decision of questions every day arising, both 
of a public and- private kind, depends greatly, very 
greatly, upon the measure of attention paid to them, 
and also upon the degree of impartiality exercised ? 
The will therefore, no less or more than the judgment, 
being employed, moral accountableness of necessity 
follows. But this is eminently the case where religion 
is concerned. 

The causes of unbelief have been ably and properly 
classed under many heads ; but they may perhaps be 
all reduced under the two to which I have just now 
adverted,—want of due attention, and want of due 
impartiality. Take away from the ranks of infidelity 
all whom these two auxiliaries have enrolled under her 

the divinity of Christ. 


banner, and they will be thinned indeed. With regard 
to the former—want of due attention—its influence is 
but too notoriously extensive. Devoted to present 
occupations and enjoyments, and eager in the pursuit 
of visible objects, or reposing in indolence which it 
is painful to jhake off, very many are unwilling to 
trouble themselves with investigating the evidences 
of a religion which holds out to them only, or prin¬ 
cipally, the hopes of distant and unseen advantages. 
Others again, having in the outset of the inquiry 
observed some difficulty which to a hasty glance 
appears insurmountable, proceed no further, but are 
content to become either avowed unbelievers, or at 
least to sink into real infidelity, whatever may be the 
profession which they may outwardly put on. It is 
plain that he who never interests himself so far in the 
matter as seriously and in earnest to ask the question, 
‘ What must I do to be saved ?’ cannot possibly be 
satisfied with the answer, ‘ Believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’ 

Let us pause however for a. moment, and see what it 
is which is here treated with such neglect and indiffer¬ 
ence. If Christianity came before us without assuming 
any special authority, or advancing any peculiar claims 
in itself to our attention—if it could be shewn to be a 
mere matter of abstract opinion, or an event of history 
long gone by with all its effects—if we had good 
grounds for thinking it calculated for no better end 


The necessity of faitli in 

than to supply food for the speculations of the curious, 
or to give creation and form to the dreams of vision¬ 
aries and enthusiasts,—then we ,might be well content,. 
while.the arguments for its truth or falsehood were 
under discussion, to sit idle and unconcerned auditors. 
But who is there among us so little acquainted >vith 
the religion into which he has been baptized, as not ■ 
to be well aware that it exhibits, even to the most 
cursory observer, an appearance the very reverse of 
all this ? Who does not know (as I have already 
intimated) that (to speak of it not according to the 
highest notions) it pretends to be stamped with np 
meaner authority than that of Heaven itself; that it 
professes to offer pardon to the guilty, strength to the 
weak, comfort to the afflicted, direction to the wan¬ 
dering ; to lay down the purest and wisest rules of 

action, and to enforce them by the most weighty 
• . 

sanctions ; to embrace, in short, the whole circle of 
human interests, both present and future ; to be our 
guide through time, and our assurance of happiness 
through eternity ? 

What shall we say then ? Such being the high pro¬ 
fessions and alleged most beneficial tendency of the 
Gospel (that Gospel which is offered to us from day to 
day), how shall we answer to its supposed Author, to 
those who must naturally be affected by our judgment 
respecting it, or to ourselves, if we but half open our 
eyes to examine its credentials ? When so momentous 

the .divinity of Christ. 271 

t /' 1 

a cause, with all its adjuncts and 1 consequences, is before 
us, how shall we be justified if, like Gallio, we ‘ care for 
none of these things or if, like Pilate, more in jest 
than iii earnest, we ask, ‘What is truth ?’ and then 
immediately turn away from the source qf information, 
without waiting.for an answer. Mere folly must it be 
to flatter ourselves that inattention to such claims as 
these (clairqs too which have been admitted by the 
wise and good in all ages) is excusable, or not highly 
criminal. It is a wilful disregard of God’s offers, and a 
presumptuous neglect of the means of happiness which 
he appears to have placed within our reach. Surely 
the condemnation pronounced against it is just; surely 
it is what reason itself might have led us to expect. 
In wisdom and in mercy did our divine Master repeat 
• so often that solemn exhortation, ‘ He that hath ears 
to hear, let him hear.’ And forcibly ’applicable in 
this case is the Apostle’s saying, * How shall we escape 
if we neglect so great salvation ?’ 

Upon that other cause of unbelief which I have 
mentioned—want of impartiality—though a cause, it 
is to be feared, most fatally operative, I must touch 
very briefly. Of those who have really inquired into 
the evidences of the Gospel, and determined against 
their validity, it may well be thought that very few 
indeed have been fair and unprejudiced judges. The 
fact is that the religion of Christ is a code of laws 
as well as a system of doctrine, a rulfe of practice as 


272 The necessity of faith in 

well as of faith. It has'certain moral conditions inse¬ 
parably connected with it (as my text intimates]), to 
which there is but too often a great unwillingness to 
submit. This is the great rock of offence upon which 
very many, from the earliest days of the Gospel until 
now, ‘ having put away a good conscience,’ as we 
have heard St. Paul speaking, ‘ concerning faith have 
made shipwreck.’ Cherishing unchristian dispositions 
and passions in their bosoms, and very often devoted 
also to unchristian habits which they will not consent 
to abandon, men pretend to decide upon the evidences 
of a religion from which they have little to hope, and 
much to fear, if it be true. They interest themselves 
on the side of vice, and then sit down (preposterous 
mockery) to examine the claim and merits*of its 
direct and uncompromising adversary. They take a 
bribe from Belial, and then call Christ to the judgment- 
seat. What wonder if the, cry, ‘ Away with him ; 
Crucify him,’ prevail ? In this, as well as in other 
instances, men will believe that to be false which they 
wish so. The mind has little to do here : it is the 
heart that decides the question. Well did the Apostle 
say, ‘with the heart man believeth unto, righteous- 
riess.’ And with a perfect knowledge of its influence 
do the inspired writers frequently intimate, and some¬ 
times expressly assert, that the acceptance or rejection 
of divine revelation is a test of moral character. It 
is manifest that unbelief, when it proceeds from the 

the divinity of Christ. 


principle last mentioned, carries with it its own con¬ 
demnation. They who * love darkness rather than 
light because their deeds are evil,’ must stand con¬ 
demned by the laws of natural religion on the ground 
of those deeds alone, though belief or disbelief in the 
Gospel were put out of the question. 

Into the consideration of the second point in my 
text, time will not allow me to enter ; nor perhaps is 
it necessary. As we have seen that the absence of 
those dispositions and habits which make ‘ a good 
conscience’ is a great the holding of ‘the 
mystery of the faith,’ so are'we sur<? + that the faith 
which is not held * in a pure conscience ’ cannot be 
a genuine faith: for our Church, following the testi¬ 
monies of Scripture, and not blind to lessons of reason 
and experience, has declared that ‘ out of a true and 
lively faith good works do necessarily spring.’ The 
God of truth and holiness has established a reciprocal 
alliance between truth of doctrine and holiness of life ; 
and woe be to us if we put asunder what he has joined 
together. But if we keep them in their natural unity 
with each other, they will flourish in mutual support: 
they will make us to walk in the light of God’s coun¬ 
tenance here, and in the hope of being admitted % to 
his beatific presence hereafter. 

T 2 


On the parable of 


[Preached at Hanford 9 Aug. 1862; again, witli alterations," at 
Bonsall church reopening 4 Aug. 1863; at Hornsey 12 June 
1864; and at Sudbury in Derbyshire 17 July 1864.] 


‘ There was a certain rich man which had a steward, and the same 
was accused unto him that he had wasted his goods.’ 

* I TIE parable of'which these words are the be- 
A ginning was read in our churches on Sunday 
last as the Gospel for the day. Anything therefore 
which I may now say on the subject of it can hardly 
be regarded as a word not ‘spoken in due season.’ 
But there is another reason why I may well bring it 
under your consideration. The parable of ‘the unjust 
steward ’ is a remarkable one; it is remarkable in 
itself; it is remarkable also as being not seldom mis¬ 
understood, and that, too by educated persons, and as 
having even been a cause of offence to some. More 
than-one intelligent person have spoken of it to me 
as appearing to them to convey a strange lesson, and 
one which they found it hard to reconcile with the 
principles of Christian, or even of common righteous¬ 

the unjust steward. 

• 2 75 

Now that in the .holy Scriptures' there are some 
things hard to be understood must be freely acknow¬ 
ledged. It could not indeed have been otherwise; 
from causes into which I need not now enter. And 
the Scriptures, themselves expressly tell us that it is 
so. But that there are such things—I mean to a 
‘serious amount—in the parable before us I am not 
prepared to allow: for it contains nothing which a 
little attention will not make clear, And I would 
beg of you, my Christian brethren, to consider whether 
we be not all of us, according ‘to the several abilities 
and opportunities given and means of instruction 
offered to us, bound to bestow more than a little 
attention upon the word of God ; remembering as well 
froth whom it comes, as also with what unspeakably 
important consequences to us the study or the neglect, 
the use or abuse of it, is attended, both in this life 
and in that which is to come. I would beg of you to 
consider also, whether, if men are so unwearied in their 
endeavours to understand thoroughly the matters of 
worldly knowledge or practice with which they have 
to do, to search to the very bottom whatever on the 
surface of them seems to be difficult, they can be 
justified in taking little or no pains, in seeking no 
help (ever at hand as it is) rightly to understand the 
word of God, or at least those portions of it which 
the church from time to time brings before them. 

I am sure, my friends, that if you will thus con- 

27 $ 

On the parable of 

sider the matter, you will see that we are ‘ without 
excuse,’ if, when any scriptural difficulty seems- to 
meet us, ‘straightway we are offended,’ and without 
caring to ascertain whether it be a real, or only a 
seeming difficulty, say, like the slothful man in the 
Proverbs, ‘ There is a lion in the way.’ Seeing how¬ 
ever that there are such careless ones, I would fain 
hope that it will not be a misuse of the present oppor¬ 
tunity if I briefly go through the parable, with a view, 
first to a clear understanding, and secondly, to a right 
application of it to ourselves. 

‘ There was a certain rich man which had a steward; 

* and the same was accused unto him that he had 
‘ wasted his goods. And he called him, and said unto 
‘ him, How is it that I hear this of thee ? Giv6 an 

* account of thy stewardship, for thou mayest be no 
' ‘ longer steward. Then the steward said within him- 
‘ self, What shall I do ? for my lord taketh away from 
‘ me the stewardship : I cannot dig; to beg I am 
’* ashamed. I am resolved what to' do, that when I 
‘ am put out of the stewardship they ’ (namely his 
lord’s debtors) ‘may receive me into their houses. 
" So he called every one of his lord’s debtors unto him, 

‘ and said unto the first, How much owest thou unto 
‘ my lord ? And he said, An hundred measures of oil. 
‘ And he said unto him, Take thy bill, sit down 
‘ quickly and write fifty.’ The word here translated 
‘ bill ’ means a writing or bond ; and the sense is, 

the unjust steward. 


‘ take from me the bond which thou hast given me, 
as my lord’s steward, for the debt due to him, and 
instead of letting it still be for a hundred measures 
alter the amount to fifty.’ ‘ Then said he to another, 
‘ And how much owest thou ? And he said. An hundred 
‘ measures of wheat. And he said unto him, Take 
1 * thy bill and write fourscore. And the lord com- 
‘ mended the unjust steward.’ 

These last words, ‘the lord commended the unjust 
steward,’ it must be plain to any tolerably attentive 
reader, are not the words of tj)e Evangelist speaking 
of Jesus, but they are the words of Jesus himself con¬ 
tinuing the parable and speaking of another person. 
The ‘lord’ therefore spoken of as commending the 
unjust steward is not the Lord Jesus, but the ;rich 
man ’ of whom we read in the first verse of the 
chapter. Well, the lord of the unjust steward, we are 
told in the parable, commended him. Not, observe, 
for his general character, the badness of which is 
sufficiently marked by his being described as"‘unjust,’ 
unrighteous ; not for his ‘ wrong and robbery ’ in the 
particular instance before us (in which he is repre¬ 
sented as endeavouring to provide for. himself by 
defrauding his lord and bribing his lord’s debtors) ; 
but simply and solely, as we find stated in express 
terms, .‘ because he had done wisely;’ because he 
had shown himself prudent in providing a refuge 
for himself from the want, that threatened him, on 


On the parable of 

his removal from the stewardship. Let us attend 
now to Christ’s words which immediately follow, 
and which conclude the portion of Scripture ap¬ 
pointed by the Church to be read to her congre¬ 
gation. ‘ For the children of this world are in their 
‘ generation wiser than the children of light. And 
* I say unto you, Make to yourselves friends of the 
‘ mammon of unrighteousness ; that, when ye fail, 

‘ they may receive you into everlasting habitations.’ 

Christ here begins his application of the parable; 
which application is continued to the end of the 
twelfth verse, though we have no need at present 
to go so far. It is as though he had said, ‘And 
no wonder that the steward should have acted thus 
prudently ‘for the children of this world,’ men who, 
like him, live only for this world, are, ‘ in their gene¬ 
ration,’ in their day, their short day, ‘ wiser,’ with regard 
to their worldly concerns, than ‘ the children of light,’ 
men who walk in the light of divine truth, are with re¬ 
gard to their spiritual interests. This charge then I 
now give to you my disciples. As the steward used 
the riches which were for a time in his keeping, for the 
purpose of making himself friends upon earth, in like 
manner do ye so use ‘ the mammon of unrighteous- ■ 
ness,’ the worldly possessions that is to say, which so 
often lead men, as they led him, to act unrighteously, 
that you may ‘ make to yourselves friends ’ in heaven : 
friends through whom, when ye fail, when this world 

the unjust steward. 


fails you, when death removes you hence, ye may be 
received, not like him, into earthly and perishable 
houses, but into heavenly and ‘everlasting habita¬ 

Thus, brethren, have I endeavoured, perhaps with 
needless particularity so far as many of my hearers 
> are-concerned, to make this parable plain to every 
one here present. Let us now see how it is to be 
applied to ourselves and to our own daily walk of 
life: and I will add, how it bears also upon the occa¬ 
sion which has assembled us within these sacred walls 

to-day. Our Lord’s parables are generally designed 
to set forth and enforce some one or two points of 
doctrine or practice. It is always therefore material 
to observe carefully what those points are; since for 
want of such observation these parables are not un- 
frequently taken as bearing upon matters to whicl^ 
they have in truth no relation. ' * 

Now the design of the parable before us is' not 
to dwell on the unprincipled and fraudulent character 
of the steward, but to teach men that they should 
imitate generally in their spiritual concerns the fore¬ 
thought and the wisdom which he showed, and which 
other worldly men show in providing for their tem¬ 
poral interests ; and in particular, that they should so 
use the worldly goods with which they are entrusted 
as God’s stewards, upon earth, as thereby to ‘ lay up 
for themselves treasures in heaven.’ 


On the parable of 

To each of these points I would now in an earnest 
and plain way direct your thoughts. ' The children of 
this world,’ said he who knew what was in man, ‘ are, 
in their generation, wiser than the children of light.’ 
And how full of sad truth is the saying! How 
humbling is the superiority in wisdom which the men 
who (as the Psalmist expresses himself) ‘have their 
portion in this life,’ and who take little or no thought 
for any other, exhibit, while the short period of their 
earthly generation lasts, over those who profess to 
take the light of God’s word for their guide, and 
who really do walk by that light to a certain extent; 
who persuade themselves that they have the one great 
concern of eternity at heart, and who indeed bestow 
upon it some degree of attention. What forethought 
and earnestness do we see in the one—what improvi¬ 
dence and carelessness in the other! What ingenuity 
is displayed on the one hand in devising schemes for the 
attainment of worldly wealth, or worldly distinction! 
What industry, and patience, and perseverance in 
carrying them into execution! What haste to rise 
up early (as the Psalmist speaks) and late taking of 
rest, and eating of the bread of carefulness! What 
dulness on the other hand, and indolence, and faint¬ 
heartedness, mark men’s progress in the way of eternal 
life! The steward, in the parable, found that he 
was about to be deprived of his stewardship ; and 
so he lost no time in making provision for his sub- 

the unjust steward. 

2,8 j 

sistence when the means which he had hitherto pos¬ 
sessed should fail him. The man of business in like 
manner observes the signs which foreshow the ap¬ 
proach of bad times, and hastens himself in 
such a position as will enable him to stand against them. 

But they who ‘profess and call themselves Christians’ 
often glide almost unconcernedly down the stream 
of time, with little or no preparation for the gulf of 
eternity to which it is every moment carrying them 
nearer. Well therefore and wisely are we directed by 
our Church in her Litany to iseseecfc God to deliver 
us ‘from sudden death the death, that is, for which 
we are not prepared, since no other ■ death is sudden 
in a religious point of view. And small right shall 
we have to be accounted Christians * in spirit and in 
truth ’ if we do not join heartily and fervently in this 
prayer; and if we do not add to our prayers our 
frequent reflections upon the comparative value of 
things temporal and things eternal. Thus by God’s 
grace working in us and with us, we may be enabled 
to take a lesson out of the worldling’s book. We 
may learn to copy his wisdom and forethought, and 
to make them instrumental to the attainment of a far 
nobler end ; and, while he is ‘ careful and troubled 
about many things ’ which all his care cannot save 
him from soon losing altogether, to lay hold on that 
‘ one thing needful,’ ‘ that good part which shall not 
be taken from us.’ 


On the parable of 

But the parable speaks of. a rich man and his 
goods, and of a steward who wasted them; and so 
turns our thoughts (as does the occasion of our meet¬ 
ing here to-day) to the case of those who have riches, 
or any considerable portion of this world’s goods, 
committed to their keeping and administration. To 
them without question a stewardship of no little im¬ 
portance “belongs. A stewardship. How much is 
implied in this word 1 How deeply does the truth 
involved in it lie at the foundation of true religion! 
How nearly does it affect us all! But I am speaking 
now more especially of the holders of wealth. Too 
often do they forget, or at least care not to remember, 
that they hold it as God’s stewards : and hence their 
misuse of it, and consequent guilt befote him. . • 
And yet if they would but reflect a little, they could 
hardly be unmindful of a truth to which not only 
religion," but nature also, and reason, bear constant 
witness. How, I say, could such men look (as they 
do) upon everything which they enjoy as being alto¬ 
gether their own possession and to be disposed of 
by them (except where human laws interfere) solely 
according to their own will and fancies, if they would 
but consider whence that enjoyment is really derived ? 
For they must soon see that it is neither derived from 
their own powers and resources ; nor can be continued 
by them at their own pleasure ; but on the contrary, 
depends entirely upon a regular order of the universe 

the unjust steward. 


with the original settlement of which they had nothing 
whatever to do, and which is kept up and maintained 
by a power infinitely greater than any which they can 

It is true, that many things which minister to our 
gratification, and upon which we set a value, seem 
to be the fruit of our awn exertions. And so they 
are, in a sense: this at least is the immediate channel 
through which they are conveyed to us. But of what 
avail would those exertions be, if the general order 
of the world (that order, over which, as I have said, 
we have no sort of control) were to "be interrupted; 
if the seasons were no longer to return, or day and 
night to succeed each other, according to their ap¬ 
pointed course; or if (which comes nearer home to 
us) the faculties of our bodies or minds .should fail 
us ; as we know but too well they may ? But how¬ 
ever this be, it cannot be denied that all we have 
may be taken from us in a moment, and that too 
when we least expect it, by the unwelcome intruder 
Death ; who thus rudely awakens us, whether we will 
or no, from our dreams of possession. Well then— 
since it is undeniable that the things which we enjoy 
* here upon earth do not depend upon our own power, 
or wisdom, either for their origin or their continuance; 
since we cannot even command the faculties by which, 
or the life during which, we enjoy them, it must 
needs follow that they are not truly and properly our 

On the parable of 


own ; that we have only the use and occupation, and 
not the- absolute proprietorship of them. Since again, 
the things thus enjoyed by us exhibit marks which 
cannot be mistaken of being the work of a wise de¬ 
signer, and a mighty Creator, it follows no less cer¬ 
tainly that to him alone of right unquestionably they 
belong, and that to his disposal they are perpetually 
subject: so that if we hold them for a while, we hold 
them not as lords but as tenants, or according to the 
similitude in the parable, as stewards under him— 
even under God ; who (as St. Paul describes him to 
the self-conceited but ignorant and unwise Athenians) 
made the world and all things therein, who is Lord 
of heaven and earth, and * giveth to all life and breath 
and all things.’ 

He then it is who is represented by the ‘ rich man ’ 
in the parable: that is, who alone can properly be 
called rich; for not only all the beasts of the forest 
are his, and the cattle upon a thousand hills, but all 
riches whatever, whether temporal or spiritual, whether 
of Providence, or of grace; and he ‘ distributeth of 
them to every man severally as he will.’ He alone 
can tryly say, ‘ Is it not lawful for me to do what I 
will with mine own ? ’ 

Well would it be for the holders of the world’s wealth, 
well would it be for the world in general, if they would 
never lose sight of these simple, but most weighty 
considerations ; if they would constantly bear in mind 

the unjust steward. 

285 ■ 

both the tenure whereby, and the purposes for which, 
they hold this wealth. For assuredly they do not by 
any original title of their own, but simply by the Will ' 
of their heavenly Lord. 

And again they hold it not solely or principally for 
their own selfish gratification, but for the good of 
their fellow-creatures ; not to make provision out of it 
for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof; for St. Paul 
assures as that * if we live unto the flesh we shall die :* 
not to hoard it up unprofitably; for St. James says 
that ‘the rust of it shall be a.witness’ against such 
hoarders ; but as St. Peter teaches, * that they may 
minister the same one to another,’ by the relief of dis¬ 
tress, by the employment of industry, by the instruc¬ 
tion of ignorance, by the encouragement of virtue, by 
the maintenance and advancement of true religion. 

• And from this ministration (such is the wise and 
gracious order of God’s Providence) their highest 
and purest gratification even in this world will pro¬ 
ceed : an earnest as it were and a foretaste of the 
enjoyment of those ‘true riches,’ that treasure in 
the heavens that faileth not, of which God’s faithful 
servants have an assurance in Christ Jesus. 

But the stewardship of which I am speaking is not 
confined to the holders of ‘ this world’s good,’ or to any 
particular class of persons. No, my friends and breth¬ 
ren : we are all of us without exception, ‘ high and low, 
rich and poor, one with another,’ stewards under God, 


' On tfie parable of 

the universal Lord ; stewards of time, and health, and 
reason, as men; .of Gospel light, and covenanted grace, 
and ’ Church privileges, as Christians. Every one of 
us therefore has need to be continually careful that 
he waste Jiot his Lord’s goods, be they many, or be 
they few. The responsibility is universal, though (it - 
should seem) not laid upon all in equal proportions. 
And to this the exhortation of the Apostle Peter 
agrees, ‘As every man hath received ,, even 

* so minister the, same one to another, as good stew- 

* ards of the manifold grace of God.’ The grace then 
of God is manifold ; the gifts, both in kind, and in 
measure, are various; every man is God’s steward ; 
and every man is bound to minister, according to 
‘ the ability which God 'giveth ’ him, to his neighbour 
for good. We have all of us need to strive, and pray t 
to be in the daily habit of reflecting what use we are ' 
making of God’s gifts—gifts inasmuch as they proceed 
entirely from the free bounty of the Giver; but only 
loans or trusts in gelation to the tenure by which we 
have the use of them. We all of us indeed waste 
them more or less. There is none among us but 
must be deeply sensible that if the great Master and 
Distributor should enter into a strict account with his 
servants, we could not, no not for a moment, stand 
that fearful reckoning. If however our consciences do 
not charge us with wilful, or habitual waste, we may 
remember, for our exceeding comfort, that he who is 

the unjust steward. 2 8 7 

to be our Judge, has been our Redeemer, and is now 
our Intercessor — nay more, that‘in the day of his 
flesh,’ he also was a steward (in a way indeed passing 
our comprehension, but /still real) and had a ministry 
from on high committed to him. Yet farther we may 
remember that ‘in that’ (during the exercise of that 
ministry) ‘he himself suffered, being tempted,’ he can 
‘be touched with the feeling of our infirmities’and* 
' is able to succour them -that are tempted. 1 

But we shall do well to remember, at the same 
time, how he spoke of himself, ift this his mysterious 
capacity. ‘ I must work,’ said he, ‘ the works of him 
1 that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh 
‘ in which no man can work.’ What a singularly im¬ 
pressive lesson is here! He who so spoke knew cer¬ 
tainly when the period of his stewardship was to end. 
And he employed every part of it to the utmost in 
fulfilling the mission of love on which he came into 
the world. We too, like him (I would make the com¬ 
parison - with all reverence), we too have to work the 
works of him who placed us here, while our short 
day lasts. But how diligently ought we to work— 
we who, unlike him, are in total uncertainty as to the 
time when that day will close and when the soul¬ 
awakening summons will be addressed to each of us, 

‘ Give an account of thy stewardship, for thou mayest 
‘ be no longer steward.’ 



On the parable of 

*And now, my friends and brethren, I need not be 
ht any pains to point out the connexion between the 
general subject which I have brought before you, 
plainly and scripturally, and the particular occasion 
which has assembled us here to-day. For we have 
here before us a signal instance of that wise exercise 
of stewardship, that, religious disposal of things tem¬ 
poral for the attainment of things eternal,' of which I 
have been speaking. And we have great cause for 
thankfulness' to Him 1 from whom all works of piety 
and charity proceed, that now, for many years past, 
such instances have been exceedingly multiplied, and 
the number of such faithful stewards remarkably in¬ 
creased among us ih. the Church at large, and not 
least in this Diocese. The work now before us has 
grown under the hands of those who, in their zeal 
for God’s glory, and for the good of his people, under¬ 
took it For, see how it is spoken of in the first 
hppeal for aid., f The work undertaken is of the 
‘ simplest kind ; the object in view being to preserve 
‘ or restore the original character of the building.’’ 
This indeed has been done, but something more than 
this. Not only have the decays of more than one 
century been repaired ; not only have obstructions 
and defacements been removed, but something of new 
beauty has been added. And still the work is of a 
simple kind: it is still, through the taste and skill 
* The rest was added for Bonsall church restoration. 

the unjust steward. 


and judgment of its well-known director, characterized 
-by that simple grace which best becomes the sacred 
edifices of the Church of England ; simple, solemnly 
simple, as that Church is in its ritual, and forms of 
worship. , 

If this were a mere gratification of our taste, I 
should not think it the cause for satisfaction which 
I do. Not surely that the love of',the beautiful and 
grand, which God has implanted, more or less in us 
all, should be suffered to lie dormant, when his houses 
of prayer, the places where his hQpour dwelleth -among 
men, are concerned. But a higher and a holier object 
has been aimed at, and we hope and trust will be 
attained, in what has been done here. 

For Scripture, and reason, and experience, all 
teach us that such beauty in our churches as you 
now see before you, tends to solemnize and deepen 
devotion, and to lead the thoughts, and raise , the 
affections of the \vorshipper from an outward and 
material to an inward and spiritual * beauty of holi¬ 
ness.’ t 

I have said experience ; for many pastors in these 
our days, have found the .happy effects of works such 
as this, in the increased number, and improved, cha¬ 
racter of their congregations, and in their own souls 

Well, my friends and brethren, such a work as that 
now before you could not have been brought to i it's 

u 2 

ig0‘ Sernlon on ihe unjust steward. 

present state (I fear I can hardly say completed) 
without the exercise of great zeal, great labour, great 
perseverance, great liberality. And assuredly these, • 
have not been'wanting here. They have been especi¬ 
ally manifested (I cannot refrain from saying) in one 
who holds an important "office in this Church—im¬ 
portant in the eye of the law—still more important 
in its relation to the order of God’s house, and the 
decency of God’s worship. May he be blessed to 
see the fruits of his love of that house, and his de¬ 
votedness to that worship. I have spoken of the great 
zeal, and labour, and perseverance, and liberality, 
which this undertaking has called forth. Would that 
I had not to speak also of the great, I fear I must 
say, the unusually great deficiency in the funds re¬ 
quisite for its completion. But I would speak of this 
hopefully, knowing as I do how often even larger 
deficiencies have been supplied by the ungrudged and 
unstinted bounty of God’s good and faithful stewards— 
of those who know and feel that thankfulness is best 
evidenced by thank offerings. 

My friends and brethren you have now an oppor- • 
tunity of showing yourselves to be such stewards. 
How many more such opportunities you may have, 
you know not The Apostle’s well known precept is 
strictly applicable here. * As we have opportunity, 
let us do good unto all men, but specially unto them 
that are of the household of faith.’ 

The Bishops last sermon. 



[breached at the Biennial Choral Festival in Lichfield' Cathedral, 
19 June 1866; and again, with alterations, at the opening of 
new organs, at Market Drayton, 2 Feb.;'at Aston near New¬ 
port, 8 October; and at Upper Tean near Uttoxeter, 18 October 
1867, the day before the Bishop died. It is printed here as he 
preached it last.] 

Psalm XCV. i, 2. 

‘ O come, let us sing unto the Lord: let us make a joyftil 
.noise to the rock of our salvation. Let us come before his presence 
with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto him with psalms.’ 

I T is one of our many obligations, my friends and 
brethren, to the Church in whose arms we were 
nursed, and through whose ministration we are fed 
with the bread of life, that, in the regular course of 
her services, she has made us familiar from our earliest 
years, and constantly keeps up our familiarity, with 
the Book of Psalms.* For there is no book of Holy 
Scripture which bears more manifestly upon its face 

* The Bishop was fond of preaching on this book. One of the 
old curates of Eccleshall writes, ‘How he Used to revel in the 


The Bishop's last sermon ; 

the marks of its own inspiration: there is none for 
the existence of which, as it is, a thinking unbeliever 
will find more difficulty in accounting 1 upon his own 
principles. The picture \vhich it exhibits to us of the 
relation known and felt by its authors, and especially 
by the royal Psalmist, to subsist between God and 
them, is marked by a reality and- a life which cannot, 
as it appears to me, reasonably be attributed to fana¬ 
ticism or to imposture. The whole character of the 
book is equally removed from both these. 

Now there is nothing more charming in this invalu¬ 
able portion of God’s Word than its infinite variety 
of subjects. And among those Subjects there are few 
which are brought before us more frequently or more 
impressively than the honour which belongs to the 
House of God ; the veneration and the love which it 
inspires ; the pleasure and the profit by which the 
dwellers in it (an expression frequently occurring in 
the Psalms), that is to say, the constant worshippers 
therein, are recompensed. 

In illustration of this there is no need for me to 
bring before you passages from the Psalms which will 
at once come to your remembrance, and the language 
of which is remarkably forcible and fervid, and evi¬ 
dently from the heart Now what shall we say of this 
language ? • May we not take it as a test of the depth 
of our own • religious impressions? If we have little 
or no-sympathy with the feelings which prompted it 

on church music. 

2 93 

—if, for example; we have not been able to say to-day* 
in something of David’s spirit, ‘ I was, glad when they 
said unto me, let us go into the house of the Lord,’ 
or again with him at all times ‘)Lord I have loved 
the habitation of thy house, and the place where thine 
honour dwelleth,’—have we not cause to fear that all 
is not well within ? ,. 

l , 

I speak now of the feeling which should lead us to 
the worship of God in his sanctuary, and should be 
with us there, independently of obligations to the 
constant and zealous observance of it resulting from 
the precepts and the examples of His* writ ten word. 

Our nature is still what it was in the days when 
* the Spirit of the Lord spake by the sweet Psalmist 
of Israel’ (2 Sam. xxiii. 1, 2) in these matchless 
‘songs of Zion.’ And it is still true that, fit and 
divinely sanctioned (Matt. vi. 5) as the silent closet 
and shut door are for the pouring forth of the soul 
before its Saviour and its Judge, there is a majesty 
« in God’s consecrated house which awakens emotions 
of a higher character in a rightly disposed mind. 
This'(according to the fine language of the Psalmist 
already quoted by me) is ‘the place where God’s 
honour dwelleth.’ And accordingly there is a solem¬ 
nity inseparable from it, tending to that wise and 
salutary awe which becomes the creature before the 
Creator—the being ‘of yesterday ’ (Job viii. 9) before 
Him ‘who is, and was, and is to com$’ (Rev..iv> 8 ). 


The Bishop's last sermon ; 

It was not Without deep meaning that the Psalmist 
said ‘ O God, thou art terrible out of thy holy places ’ 
(Ps. lxviii. 55 ); and, again, ‘ God is greatly to be 
feared in the assembly of the saints.’ For he who 
joins himself to that assembly, in the spirit of humble 
and hearty devotion, will at times find something 
there which will almost make him feel (as the patri¬ 
arch felt) that the ‘house of God’ ‘is the gate of 
heaven’ (Gen. xxviii. 17). 

But further—There is a moral ‘ beauty of holiness ’ 
in a well ordered Christian congregation, which com¬ 
poses and purifies the soul. There is a contagion of 
piety (if I may so speak) generated by the place, 
which spreads the influence of religious feelings, and 
communicates it from one worshipper to another. 
And surely, when we remember how strongly our 
minds are riveted to this world, how much they are 
occupied by objects of earth and sense, and under 
what dulness and inaptitude towards spiritual things 
they labour, we shall be ready to admit that some 
such helps as these are needed to collect our scattered 
thoughts, to warm our cold affections, to rouse our 
slumbering zeal, and to raise our aspirations from 
earth to heaven. We are creatures of impulse and of 
feeling, as well as of reason : and it is a great mistake, 
and shows no little ignorance of human nature, to 
think that we shall serve the cause of religion by 
trusting for its support within us to reasonable con- 

on church music. 

2 95 

victions alone. Let us hear the words (familiar, l 
doubt not, to some at least who hear me) of a great 
authority upon this subject. * Manifest it is,’ says 
Hooker, ‘ that the very majesty and holiness 'of the 
place where God is worshipped hath, in regard to us, 
great virtue, force, and efficacy ; for that it serveth as 
a sensible help to stir up devotion ; and, in that 
respect, no doubt bettereth even our holiest and best 
actions in this kind. As therefore we exhort all men 
everywhere to worship God, even so, for the per¬ 
formance of this service by thf people of God as¬ 
sembled we think not any place so good as the 
Church, neither any exhortation so fit as that of 
David, * O worship the Lord in the beauty of holi¬ 
ness.’ ’ That when David used this expression, * the 
beauty of holiness,’ he had in view the beauty and 
order of the services of the Tabernacle (for the Temple 
was not yet) cannot, I think, reasonably be questioned; 
though we, rising from things material to things 
spiritual, may give a higher sense to it. " 
i And one as unlike the author of the ‘ Ecclesiastical 
Polity ’ as ever man was to man, the author of the 
‘ Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,’ was led to. 
a similar conclusion by very different principles V for 
the cause -of truth is not established by one class 
of witnesses alone. ‘ The devotion of the poet or the 
philosopher,’ writes Gibbon, ‘may be secretly nourished 
by prayer, meditation, and study; but the exercise of 


The Bishop's last sermon ; 

public worship appears to be the only solid foundation 
of the religious sentiments of the people, which derive 
their force from imitation and habit.’ * 

To return to the Book of Psalms. I have said that 
one of its greatest charms is -its variety. And every 
reader of it knows over how wide a range of subjects 
it extends, and how applicable it is to very different 
circumstances of human' life, and to very different 
feelings of human nature. In turns the Psalms are 
historical, prophetical! descriptive, morally instructive. 
Again, while their language is often that of sin and 
sorrow, it is more often that of joy and thankfulness. 
And it is this joyous and thankful tone which prevails 
in them when the house of God and its services are 
their theme. 

The passage which I have taken for my text to-day 
is one of very many evidences of this. But it is more 
than this. It is an evidence also of the musical 
character of those services. And so we find else¬ 
where in the Psalms, the royal Psalmist speaking of 
his harp not as employed by him for the purpose to 
which he turned it when its soothing notes drove 
away the evil spirit from Saul in the king’s private 
chamber, but as an instrument of praising God, re¬ 
joicing aloud ' in the midst of the congregation.’ It 
is on this account that he calls his harp his ‘ glory,’ 

' * < Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,’ chap, xxviii, vol. y. 
p. 122 , 8vo., 1816. 

on church music. 


and bids it ‘ awake ’ to its holy and gladsome work ; 
for he had consecrated it to the honour and the wor¬ 
ship of his Almighty Lord and Defender. 

In this respect, as in so 'many others, the Psalms 
are an illustration, and so an incidental and mani¬ 
festly undesigned confirmation, of the historical books 
of the Old Testament. For these books bear con¬ 
tinuous witness to the use of music in the congre¬ 
gational worship of the Most High—first, in the 
Tabernacle, afterwards in the Temple. The Jewish 
Priesthood were musicians by their office; and, for 
this purpose, they were divided into*bodies, of which 
each had its leader. Music formed an essential part 
of every religious ceremony in the Jewish Church. 
We seem indeed to learn from the Jewish Scriptures 
even the origin of instrumental music, for they record 
(not without some special signifkancy) the name of 
Jubal as ‘the father of all such as handle the harp 
and organ’ (Gen. iv. 21). In the same Scriptures 
also we find the first recorded... song, as sung by 
‘ Moses and the children of Israel unto the Lord’ 
after the triumphant passage of the Red Sea ; while 
‘Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took 
a timbrel in her hand ; and all the women went out 
after her with timbrels and with dances ’ (Exod. xv, 

The old Roman poet, referring everything to 
Nature and nothing to God, tells us that men learnt 


The Bishop's last sermon / 

vocal music from the notes of the birds, and the use 
of the pipe from the whistling of the zephyrs among 
the* hollow reeds. But we, my friends and brethren, 
we who have the light of God’s Word for our guide, 
must refer music to a much higher origin. We must 
look upon the knowledge of it as taught by him; 
we must regard it as one of the many provisions 
which he has made for our enjoyment, as \vell as 
our subsistence, clearing our passage' through this 
world ; and therefore we must confess, that in the 
celebration of his goodness and greatness is its 
worthiest application and its noblest iise. So at least 
it has been' used in all ages of the Church, both 
Jewish and Christian. To this all Scripture and all 
Church History bear continuous witness. To the 
testimony of the Jewish‘Scriptures I have already 
adverted; and in regard to the Christian Scriptures, 
I need hardly remind any one who hears me of the 
hymn sung by our Lord and hjs Apostles before his 
last Passover, or of the praises which Paul and Silas 
sang to God in the prison at Philippi, or of the in¬ 
junctions given afterwards by the same Apostle Paul to 
his children in the faith (Eph. v. 19 ; Col. iii. 16), that 
they should ‘speak to one another, and admonish 
one another in psalms, and 1 hymns, and spiritual songs, 
and sing and make melody, with grace in their hearts, 
to the Lord.’ And surely we may regard these Scrip- 
turally recorded, these melodious effusions of piety 

on church music. 299 

upon earth, as types of that ' new song of the Lamb’ 
and of ‘the harps of God,’ which the Apostle John 
heard when the worship of the heavenly Church was 
opened to his eyes and ears. Surely, even in these 
later days, we may regard Church music as tending 
to bring the service of the Church militant into har¬ 
mony with the service of the Church triumphant. 

If vve turn from Scriptural to other testimonies. We 
shall find Christian historians and Christian fathers 
bearing abundant witness ,to the use of music, and 
especially of vocal music, at the religious meetings of 
the early Christians. And what is perhaps yet more 
interesting, as found where we could hardly have 
expected to find it, we have upon this subject the 
well known testimony of a Pagan writer, who de¬ 
scribes the Christians of his day, when the Roman 
Empire was yet unchristianised, as accustomed to 
meet, at stated times before day-break, and to sing a 
song, and that triumphantly, to Christ as their God.* 

But in truth, my friends and brethren, if there were 
no such lessons or examples—if we were to consult 
only our own nature, our own reason, our own ex¬ 
perience—we should find warranty enough for the 
careful cultivation and continual improvement of 
religious music. Which of us does not know and feel 
(some of us indeed, from the variety of our natural 
gifts and temperaments, more than others) the power 
* Pliny’s Letters to Trajan, Ep. x. 97, 


The Bishops last sermon ; 

of music (mighty as its agency is for other pur¬ 
poses) to awaken a religious spirit in us, and in par¬ 
ticular, to enliven, to elevate, to- solemnize, the united 
lifting up of our prayers and praises to the throne of 

It could not then be a happy period in the history 
of our own* Church (it was not we know in other re¬ 
spects) when this part of our, services—so highly 
sanctioned and so attractive, so animating, so im¬ 
pressive in itself—fell into neglect, and even into 
contempt, in our parish churches ; becoming not 
only altogether ineffective but even ridiculous,— r 
not only not ministering to godliness, but even pro¬ 
voking irreverential feelings, and not unfrequently 
giving occasion to ungodly jests. But, at the period 
to which I am looking back, there was worse (as it 
seems to me) even than this, in some of the places 
of worship which bore the name of the Church of 
England. There was the mere professional singer, 
displaying his talent sometimes in the church some¬ 
times in the theatre ; performing his part of the 
Church service,, and altogether void of interest in any 
part of the service except his own, and not un¬ 
frequently even going out of the house of God to 
some more congenial place as soon as that part had 
been performed. What room was there, in such a 
case, for that ‘ melody with grace in the heart,’ which 
the great Apostle required in his singers, and to which 

on church music ; 

30 r. 

alone we can hope that the ears of a heart-searching 
God can be open ? 

But these and other like (may I hot call them?) 
desecrations of God’s house have passed away, and 
its decency and dignity, to say the least, in outward 
and material, things, has been reasserted. Let us 
thank God for the change y and let us pray him to 
make it the instrument, of an inward and spiritual 
blessing to us. Well then to adapt our Church music 
to its.high and holy purpooe, .with.,especial relation 
to its use in our parish churches, to. make it at once 
correct and simple, solemn ,and spirit-stirring, popular 
but not vulgar, devotional, and at the same time 
congregational, must needs be a work of wisdom and 
of piety. 

This, I say, should be aimed at, especially in our 
parish, churches (our cathedrals will take care of 
themselves); for the popular life of our Church, if 
I may so speak, is there. If the musical part of the 
services therein be such as to interest the worshippers, 
arid to lead them to join in it heartily, devoutly, and 
intelligently, so that the Psajmist’s precept, ‘ sing ye 
praises with understanding,’ may be realized, we may 
well hope that it will be helpful, not only to increased 
attachment to our Church, but to the growth of the 
Christian life among our people. Unless the music in 
our parochial churches be of this character, it will fail 
of attaining its proper aim and end; it may gratify 


The Bishop's last sermon ; 

the taste of a few, but it will not exalt and purify the 
devotion of the many. 

It was for the attainment of this end that our 
Diocesan Choral Association was instituted. It was 
the first association of the kind : and its example has 
been followed in many other dioceses. It has done 
good service, in this way, for now more than ten years, 
in many of our parishes : and I seek no other ground 
than its parochial usefulness, for commending it to 
your favour and support 

. And it is with the same object in view that we are 
now met here. It has not been thought seemly 
or right, that the instrument of sacred music which 
has been heard for the first time to-day within these 
sacred walls, should be placed in the house of God 
without such a religious inauguration as becomes its 
place and use. We must feel, I am persuaded, that 
* it is good for us to be here ’ for such a solemn 
purpose. May God make it one of profit as well as 
pleasure to us. 

But, my friends and brethren in Christ, besides the 
particular objects which Church Associations and 
Church Meetings may have in view, there is one great 
and general lesson which ought always, if not to be 
learnt from them, at least to be more deeply impressed 
upon us by them,—I mean the lesson of unity and 
brotherly love. We associate ourselves .and we meet 
together on this and other like occasions, as servants 

on church mtisic. 


of one Master, as subjects of one Lord, as redeemed 
by-one Saviour, as bound together by the sacred ties- 
of one brotherhood and one communion. 

You know how touchingly that Master and Lord 
prayed for the unity of his disciples, in some of his 
latest words upon earth. You know how earnestly 
his Apostle Paul, the Apostle of Gentiles, depre¬ 
cated the rupture of this unity among his converts. 
You know how grievously the Church of Christ has 
suffered from the want of this unity in succeeding 
ages ; and you know too, I think, and feel how much 
need of it we have now. We are divided about forms 
and rites and modes of worship, while we ought to 
be united for works of faith and charity, and for the 
diminution, so far as may be, of the mass of igno¬ 
rance, of vice, of indifference and irreligion that is 
around us. 

Is it then too much to hope that such meetings as 
the present, if we come to them in a right spirit, may, 
under God’s blessing, lead us — clergy and laity — 
to consider how we may more and more * take sweet 
counsel together, and walk in the house of God as 
friends ; ’ not magnifying small points of difference. 
among us, but ever dwelling upon and rejoicing in 
those essential truths, those great bonds of union 
which are common to us all, and which should make 
us ‘all of one mind’ in all things that concern us 
vitally and enduringly. 



The Bishop's last sermon. 

If this be not our desire and our aim, it must be 
because we are wanting in that spirit of mutual love 
by which our Master declared that his disciples shall 
be known, and which his great faith-magnifying 
Apostle declared to be the chief of Christian graces. 
It will be well if these occasions of our meeting 
together before God lead us to examine ourselves .as 
to our deficiency in this grace, that so we may be led 
to cultivate it more carefully, and to pray for it more 
earnestly. The same inspired teacher who tells us 
that ' we are saved by faith, through grace,’ tells us 
also that the only faith which ‘ availeth anything ’ is 
the ‘ faith which worketh by love.’ 

Preface to the Bishop's verses. 


RlCARDUS Shilleto amicissimo Jacobo G. 

Lonsdale, 5 . P. D. 

Quod necopinanti mihi tu grave onus imposuisti, 
idem ut detrectare nollem duse potissimum caussae 
impulerunt, singularis amor tui, Patris optimi com¬ 
mune mihi cum aliis omnibus l ’desiderium ; mihi vero 
praecipue desiderandi qui ilium non solum publice 
sed etiam privatim' quantum admirabar tantum dili- 
gebam. Quanquam ita grave onus erat, ut perpauca 
vel Aristarchum ipsum requirere viderentur. Id hab- 
eto mihi perlegenti cito innotuisse, quantam ex aequa- 
lium quum Etonensium turn Academicorum praeconio 
cogitatione praxeperam, tantae spei suae alumnum 
Regalis Collegii utriusque amantissimum utrique 
acceptissimum satis superque respondisse. Equidem 
scio hodie existere quibus, “ optimis quidem illis sed 
nec satis eruditis et paullo arrogantioribus viris,” 
totum hoc displiceat, in pangendis Graece et Latine 
carminibus operam consumere. Longe tamen plures, 
quibus istae scilicet nugae se commendent, quos ad 
aemulandum ipsos ultro exstimulent, qui ut Graece et 
Latine satis ipsi sciant ea demum aemulatione se assc- 
cutos vel assecuturos fntelligant, et spero esse et con- 
fido. His utique probabitur ratio tua Opusculum istuc 

x 2 

30 6 Preface to the Bishop's verses. 

edentis et pervulgantis. Horum animos legentium 
morabuntur quae 6 fia/capiTt)? plaudenti sodalium et 
aetate provectiorum ccetui famae in posterum suae speci- 
mina, et puer et adolescens proposuit. Hos, si quid 
video, mira quadam oblectatione afficiet accurate am¬ 
bitus doctrinae ut in ephebo paene infinitus, comptissima 
sermonis elegantia, dotes ingeftii fertilis ac multiplicis 
eximiae. Hi mecum necessest fateantur, quantus 
futurus esset Vir Puerum jam ostendisse. Hi tibi 
tuisque, qui parentis egregii superstites pio animo 
memoriam fovetis et fovebitis, gratulabuntur for- 
tunasque laudabunt vestras, qui patrem haberetis 
tot tantisque virtutibus, religionis, fidei, constantiae, 
comitatis, rerum divinarum atque humanarum scientiae, 
ceteris omnibus' cumulatissimum. 

Non, si quid olim lusit, edax dies 
Delebit. Illest, qui tibi, Vergili, 

Qui certet Alcaei camenis, 

Ipse potens utriusque linguae. 

Dabam VIII. Id. Januar. A. S. mdccclxviii. 


Verses at Eton. 



Lonsdale (aged 15). —Sent up for good, June 1803. 
"Os els davarov eenrevtrev ovSevos Kakeacuno s. 

Qua rapidis objecta Notis et fulminis igni 
Secretum patuld callem sup&r imminet umbri 
Fagus, et horrendum foliis immurmurat atris; 
Sede sepulchral!, gelidaeque sub aggere terra 
Tristitid tandem saevoque dolore peracto 
Conditur infelix Damon ; quern in vere juventae 
Abstulit atra dies, propriaeque insania dextra. 
Ille diu occultum celans sub pectore vulnus 
Vix miseram traxit vitam ; nec leniit aegrum 
Alma quies, vel chm petiit Sol aethera, vel cilm 
Pronus in Hesperiis nitidum jubar abdidit undis. 
Heu quoties longae vigilans per taedia noctis 
Fletibus aspersit lectum, frustraque fugacem 
Orabat somnum lassatae infundere menti 
Perbreve lenimen, duraque oblivia cura. 

At, memini, nebulis tenebrosus inhorruit aether, 
Prasagumque caput dird ferrugine texit 
Phoebus ; ut irreducem juvenis miserabilis ibat 


Verses at Eton. 

Per nemoris dumeta viam, vitaeque suique 
Impatiens, mortemque petens, certusque moriri. 

Vidi ego pallentes venturo funere vultus, 

Et male compositos gressus, et lumina volvi 
Sanguinea, et dubio mussantem murmure linguam. 
Vidi fatifero trajectum vulnere corpus, 

(Qu 4 m frustra vidisse piget) ruptosque recessus 
Pectoris, et tepido fumantem sanguine cultrum. 
Procubuit, graviterque gemens terram ore momordit. 
At tu, qui fixis oculis hoc tenue, viator, 

Aspectas bustum, ne tarn lugubre patrantem 


Execrare manum facinus ; miserere malorum 
Tantorum, miserere animi non digna ferentis. 

Nec super exanimes artus gravis herba cicutse 
Germine lethifero surgat; nec mollia dona 
Hie larga cumulosque manu ver dulce recuset. 

Quid licet, ingenti constructum mole sepulchrum 
Et tituli, Parioque insculptse marmore Iaudes 
Non decorent cineres ; tamen hie Clementia laetos 
Spargere gaudebit flores, nostrisque negata 
Luminibus caeloque cohors demissa per auras 
Mulcebit miseros divino carmine Manes : 

Petrarchique chelys (sortem quse flevit iniquam 
Ante diem raptae crudeli funere Laura) 

Te quoque lugebit, juvenis miserande, tuumque 
Ad tumulum fundet querulae pia munera Musae. 

Tfie Suicide. 


Haec ego defuncto mcestus votiva sodali 
Carmina dicebam, subiti cum luce refulsit 
Splendidiore dies, et vox sic orsa per auras 
yEtherios proferre sonos : “ O desine, vates, 

Desine non meritas vitiis innectere lauros, 

Et specie falsS. turpem praetexere culpam. 

Si tamen ex Erebo vitae mala tristia misit 
Omnipotens rerum genitor, lateque vagari 
Jussit, et afflictis terrae spati&Vier oris ; 

At simul os sanctum caelesti ostendit ^b arce 
Aurea Religio, quae saevo opponeret hosti 
JE gida sideream, durosque repelleret ictus. 

Et juveni, quern tu proprio gemis ense peremptum, 
Effusis pure precibus votisque rogatam 
Ilia tulisset opem ; tristesque a mente procellas 
Collectasque sacro pepulisset Iumine nubes. 

Ergo mortalis concessam a Numine vitam 
Impius abjiciet, divinae munera dextrae 
Temnere non metuens ? nimium rapido pede lethum 
Improperatum aderit; vivas, dum vivere fas est, 

Nec soli vibranda Deo necis arripe tela.” 

Verses at Eton. 

3 IQ 


Lonsdale (aged 15).—Sent up for good, autumn 1803. 

^Ett 06vi] (jKovai yap leal irdXftr. 

Surge age, et aeriis labens audacius alis. 

Per Latii campos, et opertas nubibus Alpes 
Djedaleam cape, Musa, viam ; veterisque Quirini 
Lapsas quaere domos, ipsisque horrenda ruinis 
Moenia ; qu& mcesto procedens agmine Tibris 
Dirigit indignam, raptis sibi laudibus, undam. 

O fragiles hominum vires ! quos vita revolvit 
Quam varios casus! semper mutanda, novasque 
Exhibitura vices ! jacet orbis Martia victrix 
Inclyta Roma jacet; video (proh tristia fata) 
Admirans video (ceu quondam Evandrius hospes) 
Per vacuas gramen plateas, desertaque nasci 
Atria, et in lautis pecudes mugire Carinis. 

O ubi nunc tua fama latet, bellique virumque 
Magna parens ? qu6 fugit honob, lat&que potentes 
Ausonii fasces, quos Sol oriensque cadensque 
Aspexit dominos ? I nunc, iterumque subactis 
Gentibus increpita, solitoque extollere fastu. 

O ubi sunt nati fortes ? ubi nescia vinci 
Heroum generosa manus ? • Deciique, Catonesque 
Et Curius contemptor opum, Mariusque feroci 
Ore minax, regumque exosi vincula Bruti. 

Me dulces inter latebras, multaque celebrem 
Nobilitate locum, .et tacito penetralia gressu 
Ire juvat, priscique decus meditarier aevi. 

The fall of cities. 

3 ii 

Dum circum veteres urn as, et rubigine laesa 
Heroum simulachra jacent; hlc marmore vivit 
Scipiadae mitis virtus ; hie sanguine ficto 
Pompeii calet effigies ; hie J ulius acrem 
Indicat ore animum, tollensque ad sidera vultus 
Indignatur humum, regnique ardescit amore. 
Proximus his, oculos paullum tellure moratos 
Conjicit in proceres, expectatoque resolvit 
Tullius ora sono; qualis te, perfide, quondam 
Terruit infestum patriae Ca^lina ; tuosve, 

Antoni, fasces, rabiemque irrisit inanem. 

At viden ! ut tollat veteres imitata ruinas 
Exiguum nova Roma caput, fluviique propinquis 
Insideat ripis ? varios hie Martia pubes 
iEmula versabat ludos ; seu fraena perosi 
Scandere quadrupedis tergum, seu findere telis 
Aera, seu validae pugnam tentare palaestrae 
Juverit, aut rapidos ad metam volvere currus. 

Hinc urbis decus ; liinc pulchris animosa juventus 
Incubuit studiis ; nec vim funesta repressit 
Allia, nec tinctae Romano sanguine Cannae. 
Nequicquam Hesperias equitans impune per urbes 
Punicus infremuit prado; cadit obruta flammis 
Aimula Carthago ; tolerat devicta pudendum 
Graecia servitium ; nec fugit inhospita cladem 
Dacia, nec versa; Partho valuere sagittae. 

Jam silet armorum sonitus, jam laeta subactum 
Orbem Roma tenet; sequitur damnosa voluptas. 


The fall of cities. 

Et placidae comitans pacis vestigia luxus. 

Nunc horti, nitidaeque domus, nunc mollia vina 
Magnificasque placent epulae ; fugit inclyta virtus, 
Belli cura fugit, lapsumque urbs alta Quirini 
Demittit caput, et magni stat nominis umbra. 

En Byrsae vindex, et tanti sanguinis ultor 
Hostis adest; Latii trepidos immissa per agros 
Tempestas inimica furit; perit ardua Roma, 
Terrarum domitrix ; et quam non vicerat orbis 
Copia vincit opum, et fortunae dona secundae. 


Lonsdale .—3 Oct 1805. 'Sent up for play. 

Ttvt tov filov ofwiaa-a ; 

AuptKTj? avao-cra 
\eye pot. rtvi ftporeiov 
£1 lotov TrapeiKaaaip! av ; 
r l 8’ iv aldepos Tmj^alcn.Vy 
t L Be ftkvdeaiv OaXatrertyi, 
fiatcpov 4} TrkrcuTfi av alas 
ra’^ivanepov TaprfXde ; 
ftlos, a>s opapa kov<\>ov 
ftlos, ©9 vorjfia ipevyei- ’ 
ftlos i/j,<f>epr )9 olcrra 
'ftK.vducrjv Xivovti vevprjv 
j3 los alercp a v0hni 
ve<f>ea>v Sia cncoTeivaiv 
fjidX’ eoueev, kot atepas 

Life is a dream . 


rrorapQ peovri irerpa<i. 

itrrlv avOepotaiv 
vatavdivov} OflOlOS, 
are crqpepov fipvovra 
Kpvos avpiov papatvet. 
’’Ayer ovv (eirel doolai 
%p6vo<; oiyerai rroBetjaiv) 
dyer, & <j)iXoi, pepipv&v 
rroXvippovridcov apoipoi, ■ 
yXvicepbv jrlwpev olvov. 
KiOupas re repirvov aapa 
<f>peva deXyero} aw avXop;, 
axeos re, rrpiv pavrjvai, 
Kararravera) 61liXXas- 
S’, ipaapla N eaipa, 
ay, epov KciXowros, eX 0 e, 
xmo r o<f>pvaiv peXalvaif 
yrapLev ri peihiaaov. 
perk aov poBoiai %airrjv 
<rre<l>avoupevo<s ^opevaio" 
pera aov KaXrj K v 0 VPV 
o<r eSa>ice repirvd Bpeyfreo. 
raya Xoiadiov roS’ VP&p, . 
roSe (j>eyyo$ eUoptopev • 
ruyat, 'Taprapeiov rjpa'i 
ve'<pos avpiov KaXinp' £ i- 
aye r* ovv, Kopoi, iriap-ev' 
dye, epov N eaip a 

tyCXewpev, o<ppa AaV 4 ®*' 
arvyepai r iaicri KVP £ s- 

Verses at Eton. 



Lonsdale .—Christmas task, December 1805. Sent up for play, 
March 1806. 

VEgyptiorum IsraeKtas insequentium clades. 

Vim Pater o supreme, tuam, monstrataque terrae 
Prodigia aeternae, et veterum miracula rerum 
Vellem equidem memorare : sed impermissa petentis 
Comprimit ora timor: quis enim caelestia quaerat 
Mortali celebrare'lyri ? quis maxima demens 
Exiguis tenuet numeris ? qui Musa per oras 
Audeat humentem terrenis roribi .s alam 
Tollere sidereas, et non sua visere regna ? * 

Vos Algyptiaci tractus, Mareoticaque arva, 

Vos Arabum deserta, et Rubri litora ponti 
Dicite, (conspexistis enim) divina potestas 
Quid valeat, quo se magni ferat ira Tonantis. 

Dicite quos dederit luctus, quo turbine vestris 
Finibus ingruerit clades, cum pectore csecas 
Concepit furias, ipsumque in bella vocavit 
CaelicolOm Regem Pharao ; cum pallida Numen 
Horruit infestum Memphis, populumque ducemque 
Extinctum gemuit, stratosque in pulvere fastus. 

Jampridem genus IsacidOm, Abramique nepotes 
Servitio iEgyptus longo, et ditione superba 
Presserat; afflicti dur4 sub compede cives 
Jussa exercebant opera, indignumque laborem. 

O quoties inter plagas, et herilia probra 
Secretas fudere preces, gemitusque sub imo 
Corde volutarunt! domini vetuere minaces 

Passage of the Red Sea. 

3 J 5 

Plura loqui; tacitis mussabat questibus angor. 

At non interea nullis haec spectat ocellis 
Omnipotens ; summa caeli miseratur ab arce 
Moerentes, lapsisque parat succurrere rebus. 

Quippe dies suberat (neque enim promissa. videmus 
Vana exire Dei) qua jam sibi fcedere certo 
Jungeret electam gentem, propriamque vocaret, 
Eriperetque jugo, et praedictis sisteret arvis. 

Ergo sacra Dei portans mandata superbum 
Mittitur ad regem Moses ; cui frater Aaron 
It comes, Amrami magn& de stirpe sacerdos. 

Turn sic incipiunt fari: “ Tua limina* prinpeps, 
Caelestem monitum divinaque jussa secuti 
Ingredimur ; nec nos nullius Numinis urget 
Imperium: Deus ille (patres quern rite colebant 
Quem maria et terrae dominum caelumque fatetur) 
Isacidas miseros, quos tu premere improbus aegro 
Audes servitio, vocat in meliora, siiasque 
Vindicat in leges : patere his excedere terris, 
Securosque suo Regi persolvere cultus.” 

Talia poscebant, subitasque exarsit in iras 
Justitiae spretor Pharao, linguique feroci 
Addidit haec : “ Quae verba mihi dementia fertis ? 
Quis novus hie Deus est ? quo tanto Numine fretus 
Imperat hoc, speratque mihi dominarier ? ite, 

Ite et cum sociis opera exercefce relicta” 

Ergo supremum probris impune Jehovam 
Vox humana petet ? fastumne tyrannus inultum 
Concipiet mente, et tumido fremet improbus ore ? 

3 1 6 

Verses at Eton. 

O qualis quantamque trahens vindicta ruinam 
Imminet! o quoties flebis scelera ista nefasque ! 
Quos gemitus duces, Pharao ! quae, Nile, videbis 
Funera, cum tumulos praeterlabere recentes ! 

Ergo agedum nobis (nam tu sacra omnia n6sti) 
Uranie, memora, queis deinde exterrita pcenis 
Fleverit ^Egyptus, quas dira insania regis 
Intulerit pestes, spretique injuria caeli. 

Invasit primum fluvios fontesque lacusque 
Ira Dei: novus ecce rubor per stagna cucurrit, 
Vivaque in obscoenum se vertit lympha cruorem. 
Ipse suos l^tices et purpureos cataractas 
Vidit et intremuii Nilus, latebrisque sub imis 
Condidit attonitum caput, et septemflua pressit 
Ostia. Corruptas pisces jacuere per undas 
Exanitni, ripaeque gravem effudere mephitim. 

At non hdc Pharaonis inexpugnabile pectus 
Frangitur ; insanit magis ille magisque, suoque 
Durescit luctu, damnisque fit efferus ipsis. 

• Hinc aliae accedunt clades. Jamque excita crassis 
Agmina ranarum stagnis, limoque palustri 
In siccum densa exsiliunt; perque intima tectorum 
Atria, (nec vectes nec multo janua ferro 
Clausa viam rumpit) perque ipsa cubilia tendunt 
Regis, et immundo conspurcant omnia tactu. 
Emicat in vitam pulvis, parvasque animanttim 
Foedorum profert acies. Ruit aere opaco 
Stridulus, innumeris muscarum exercitus alis, 
Obsiditque epulas, importunusque pererrat. 

Passage of the Red Sea. 


Dein, mediis illapsa agris, armenta gregesque 
Stemit acervatim pestis : cum matribus agni 
Dant animas ; nec quid tauro sua robora prosunt; 
Languet equus, moriensque acres demittit ocellos, 
Luxuriemque jubae, vestitaque fulmine colla. 

Ulcera quid memorem, pecudumque hominumque 

Exesos papulis artus ? Ipsi quoque caelo 
Visus inesse furor : mixto flam fulmine grando 
(Qualem nec §ensit tellus nec sentiet olim) 

Praecipitans herbasque et vites et sata laeta 
Obruit; immugit tonitru : liquid us. per adustam 
Volvitur ignis humum, et celeri rapit obvia flamml 
Siquid adhuc tantA superest a strage relictum, 

Involat hoc, Euri pennis advecta sonoris, 

Atra locustarum nubes, totumque voraci 
Umbrat gente solum, et nudatis incubat arvis. 

Quid tibi nunc artes solitae, quid carmina diris 
Foeta veneficiis, princeps miserande, ruenti 
Auxilium tulerunt ? victi tremuere, Deumque 
Agnovere Magi, concessaque non sibi facta. 

Abdidit os pavidum, ne tot mala foeda videret, 

Sol fugiens ; caecosque obscurA veste tenebrae 
Tres cinxere dies, totidem sine sidere noctes. 

Palluit ALgyptus conterrita, palluit ipse 
.Rex Pharao ; saepe, incusans se multa, petitum 
Isacidis promisit iter, veniamque coactis 
Oravit precibus, saepe ilium in corde resurgens 
Rettulit in scelera et vetuit mollescere fastus. 


Verses at Eton. 

Ergo aliud gravius damnum, crudelior ira - 
Adjicitur. Medii tellus cum nocte quierat, 

Ecce volat per agros et tecta silentia somno 
Lethifer ultorisque Dei pcenaeque minister 
Angelus, et primo partu quoscunque parentes 
Ediderant, sternit; pereunt ditesque inopesque, 

Nec casa parva suam, nec servat regia prolem. 
Exoritur tristis vastata per oppida clamor ; 

Exoritur matrum demens ululatus ; ubique 
Plangores lacrymaeque et plurima mortis imago. 

At vero Isacidum certo discrimine note 

Clade vacant seetes ; nec quicquam e pestibus illos 

Laeserat in medio peragentes otia luctu. 

Turn demum attonitus monstris amensque timore 
Exclamat Pharao : “ Quid in hac tellure manetis, 
Hebraei, mea pernicies ? I, quo Deus urget, 
Invisum genus, atque actutum hos desere fines.” 
Ergo ibat, longis vix tandem libera vinclis, 

Auro AJgyptiaco et cumulate merce locuples 
Tota manus ; juvat effundi matresque virosque, 
Molirique fugam, et crudeli excedere terr&. 

Per loca senta situ, lateque jacentia tesqua 
Impavidos tendunt gressus : hie jusserat ire 
Omnipotens, ne fors breviori tramite ductis 
Obstaret, ssevoque minax Philistia bello 
Terreret segnes animos, insuetaque pugnis 
Pectora. Qualis oves ad prata recentia rivis 
Pastor agit, talis populum ducebat euntem 
In nova regna Deus, noctesque diesque praeibat 

Passage of the Red Sea. 


Ignibus aethereis, et nube incinctus opaccL 

Ecce autem rapiensque rotas, equitumque cohortes 
Instabat Pharao : rursus formidine puls&, 

Corda furor fastusque subit, nec fert sua linqui 
Servitia et ruptis populum fugisse catenis. 

Jamque, ubi contigerat littus quod spumea Rubri 
Verberat unda maris, castrisque resederat agmen 
Isacidum, procul a tergo respexit in auras 
Pulveream volvi nubem, trepfdumque repente 
Vidit equos, vidit currus et signa sequentum. 

Continuo turbati animi, moestusque per omnes 
It pavor ; incusant pariter Mosemque Deumque, 
Praecipiuntque horrenda necis, magnoque paratum 
Oderunt abitum, et mala munera libertatis. 

Heu quid agant ? quo se vertant ? hinc imminet hostis 
Exitium casdemque ferens; hinc lata tumescunt 
Objectoque fugam pnecludunt aequora fluctu. 

Hie vero apparet subitum et mirabile visu 
Prodigium. Jussam Moses simul aere virgam 
Extulerat, validi discissus flatibus Euri 
Subtrahitur gurges medius, dextrdque sinistraque 
In geminam surgit molem, siccique patescit 
Callis iter. Stupuere omnes, stupet ipse, suasque 
Spectat opus virgae defixo lumine vates. 

Jamque per arentem salis alveum, regnaque nuper 
Humida procedit populi globus omnis : at illos • 
Curvata in muri faciem circumstetit unda 
Accepitque sinu vasto. Mirantur utrinque 


Verses at Eton. 


Pendentes fluctus, pelagique arcana reclusi 
Invisosque prius scopulos, ignotaque monstra. 
Haeret hians hostis, formidatamque recusat 
Ire viam, dubiusque premit vestigia languor. 

At non insano Pharaoni audacia cessit: 

Turbidus exultat campo, sociosque morantes 
Increpitat, mutosque metu ; frenisque remissis 
Urget equos, barathroque infert se primus aperto. 
Succedunt comites, perque irremeabile marmor 
Devoto infelix vehitur cum rege caterva. 

Turn Pater e flammis, et denso nubis amictu 


Prospicit, adversoque corusci lumine vultils 
Turbat Niligenas, properantiaque agmina tardat, 
Contunditque rotas currfim. Nec jam mora longa 
Exitio ; portentiferam super sequora Moses 
Ecce iterum tollit virgam ; fit stridor, aquarum 
Concrete hinc illinc moles solvuntur, et omnis 
Divisi coit Oceani, repetitque relictum 
Unda locum, trepidasque -digypti cum duce turmas 
Obruit incursu subito ; merguntur et arma 
Mergunturque viri, Phariae flos ille juventae 
Occidit, atque hausti refluo sub gurgite currus. 
Interea optata incolumes potiuntur areni 
Isacidae, laetisque procul mirantur ocellis 
Volvier attonitos stagnis ultricibus hostes. 

Turn vero insignem tota cum plebe triumphum 
Exultans cecinit Moses ; soror accinit illi 
Fatidici pollens lingua) ducitque sonantes 
Cum grege virgineo choreas, et tympana pulsat. 

Passage of the Red Sea. 321 

Und omnes clamore fremunt, amor omnibus idem 
Carminibus celebrare Deum, “Te, summe, canemus 
Te, Pater, oraatum palma, victisque celebrem 
Hostibus : ut tua vis ingenti clade sub alto 
Mersit equos, equitesque, infestaque contudit arma! 
O lux IsacidCtm, o semper fidissima nostris 
Spes et presidium rebus, te laude juvabit 
Tollere perpetua, tibi dignum ad sidera templum 
Exstruere, et sacros ultra persolvere cultus, 

Tu regis armorum rabiem ; te lurida belli 
Vidimu's horrified torquentem fulmina dextra ; 
Vidimus, ut, lectis cum pugnatoribus, audax 
Occident Pharao, et superati gloria NilL 
Te mare pacatum, te conscia Numinis unda 
Audiit, et cumulis erecta silentibus altd 
Constitit, et solidos divisit semita fluctus. 

Vesancf tumuit fastu, et spem fovit inanem 
Hostis atrox ; ‘Age,’ dixerunt, ‘invisa sequamur 
Agmina ; ditemur prada ; immittamus habenas 
Caedis, et Hebreo rubeant freta tincta cruore.’ 

Nec tu plura sinis ; jactantesque ista refusis 
Vorticibus sorbet pelagus ; jacuere voluti 
Undae inter fremitum, et laxati marmoris aestus. 
Audiet haec, ponetque nova formidine victa 
Stirps Chananaea minas, Philisteique pavebunt 
Insolito terrore duces; turbabitur oras 
Per medias, natisque suis pallescet Idume. 

Nos, positis vinclis, nos per salis avia ducti 
Te colimus, tibi non tacitos largimur honores 

Y 2 



Verses at Eton. 

Munere pro tanto populus tuus. O Pater, adsis 
Usque favens ! O sis verb pater! ibimus omnes, 
Te duce, per casus securi; donee in agros 
Promissos tuleris, placid&que in sede loedris.” 


Lonsdale .—Sent up for play, September nth, 1806. 

“ Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur 
Ire poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit, 

Irritat, mulcet, felsis terroribus implet, 

Ut magus.”—H or. 

O nemora antiquis super impendentia Delphis,- 
Arvaque, sacrato quae flumine lambit Elissus, 
Dicite, num vestris vel adhuc memor assonat Echo 
Saltibus, et raptae servat vestigia Musae : 

Dicite, nam meministis adhuc, quae carmina yobis 
Pieriae cecinere tides. Sophoclisne cothurnus ■ 

Parte aliqua superest ? tenerine Euripidis umbra 
Rus peragrat solitum, et doctas circumgemit arces ? 
Longe alios quopdam Divos, melioraque nostis- 
Tempora, cum tumido sonuit gravis /Eschylus ore, 
Cum scelerum ultrices jussit vibrare colubros 
Eumenidas, tremuitque suae phantasmata mentis. 

O vada Cephisi, quoties stupuistis ad acrem 
Pindarici strepitum plectri, cum premia palmae 
Victor equus tulit, et dominum illustravit ovantem ! 
Haec fuerunt. Proh fata Defim crudelia ! Graiae 
Conticuere lyrse ; patriisque a sedibus exul 

Magic of the Muse. 


Parnassi juga cara sui, purasque Aganippes 
Fugit aquas, aliamque insedit Pieris oram. 

O si Pegasea ponti super aequora penn&'. 

Hesperia: ad campos, Latiisque habitata poetis 
Rura mihi liceat perlabier! O ubi silvae 
Tiburis, et culti celebres testudine Flacci 
Bandusiae latices ? ubi cinctus arundine glauci 
Mincius, et ripae, petiit quas saepe, relicta 
Urbe, Maro, et placidis fudit pia vota Camcenis ? 
Quando erit, ut quotacunque’semel mihi gratia durum 
Laevet opus, quali fluxit perfusa leporis 
Ingenio vis blanda tui, mollissime vatum. 

Cum grave Marcelli cecinisti funus, acerbis 
Ante diem Parcis et iniqu& lege perempti ? 

Audiit admirans Roma, incassumque repressos 
Effudit gemitus, lacrymisque indulsit obortis. 

Audiit infelix mater; sensitque sub imo 
Corde novum VUlnus stratasque resurgere curas. 
Dumque avidae imbiberent flumen dulcedinis aures, 
Ecce iterum ante oculos infandis ignibus ardens 
Visus adesse rogus, repetitaque mortis imago est 
Felix, quae talem genuisti, Roma, poetam ! 

Plus nimio felix, talem si semper habere 
Dii tibi donassent! Sed enim divina Poesis 
Ingentes animos libertatisque potentes 
Flagitat, indignamque edit perferre catenam. 

Ergo, ubi jam dominum positi cervice paveres 
Torpida luxurie famseque oblita prioris, 

Verses at Eton. 

3 H 

Degenerem sprevit terrain, celerique volatu 
Attigit Angliacos, hospes gratissima, campos. 

Quis fuit ille dies, vitrei cum propter Avonis 
Fluminb porrectum tacita Natura sub umbra 
Aspexit puerum, caroque arrisit alumno! 

“ Hie calamus,” dixit, “tu'us est; I, pinge colores 
Nate meos, variumqtie decus mutabilis anni. 

Accipe et has claves'; haed, te 'versante, recludet 
Laetitiae portas, aditus dabit ilia Timdrum 
Detegere, et caecos Lacrimarum accedere fontes.” 
Dixerat: ille novum' concepit mente-calorem. 
Continuo sonat 'icta 'chelys ; malexredulus enseni 
Lethiferum vibrat Maurus : rubet hospitis hospes 
Caede ; comisque amens in'nectit Ophelia flores. 

Nec tamen ille minor, nostri qui transiit orbis 
Moenia, Phantasiaeque volans sublimibus alis 
Lustravit tractus alios, hominique negatum 
Carpsit iter : Patris solium, circumque trementes 
Ora Dei Superos, rutilasque in limine flammas 
Vidit: at insuetae victus splendore diei 
Condidit aeternae caligine noctis ocellos. 

Ergo nunc cessat plectrum? nulline coronas 
Phoebe, paras capiti ? et Sophias stat nomen inane ? 
Musa vetet; sacrum nostri prope fluminis amnem 
Siqua vagatur adhuc, dulcemque aspectat Etonam. 
Spero equidem his olim campis (spem Fata secundent) 
Egregius surget vates, qui tollat in astra 
Carminibus patris nomen ; Thamesisque superbus. 
Nec te, Thybri, minor, nec te volvetur, Elisse. 

Verses at Eton. 

3 2 5 


Lonsdale. —Sent up for play, November 27, 1806. 

“ Vita conferta voluptatum omnium varietate.”—Cic. 

Sparge rosas, effunde merum : vos, Cura Laborque, 
Chrysippi fatuum discruciate gregem. 

Stoica durities adverso flumine niti 
Gaudeat, et saevos obvia ferre Notos ; 

Sit mihi compositis mare turgens molliter undis, 
Blandaque securam ventilei aura ratem. 

Demens ! quem stolidi captantem dona popelli 
Raptat inauratis Gforia vana rotis ! * 

Demens ! qui cumulat gazas, quas morte paterni 
Tradat ovans ventis, disjiciatque nepos! 

Quid decus est? quid opes ? quid tu, celeberrimaVirtus? 

Nil nisi mentitum nomen, et umbra levis. 

Hoc tandem agnovit melior sententia Bruti, 

Et sero vellet mollius isse dies. 

Ergo ades, et curse stimulos obtunde, Voluptas ; 

Fac jaceant fluctus pectoris, alma Quies. 

Dum loquor, hora fugit; nuM prece flectitur Orcus ; 

“Vive hodie ; poteris eras, puer, esse nihil.” 

Talia, luxurians aevo florente, canebam, 

Nequitise illecebras exstimulante lyra. 

Audiit, et rupta subito de nube refulgens 
iEtherios Virtus edidit ore sonos ; 

“ Ergo desidii foede torpebit inerti 

Natus ut in caeli regna vehatur, homo ? 

326 Verses at Eton and Cambridge. 

Usque adeone latet diae scintillula flammae ? 

Sic animi dormit vis, et acumen hebet ? 

Ilia ego sum, per quam veterum genus acre virorum 
Fulsit, et aeterni nunc quoque laude viget 
Hos sequere ; hos imitans pigri fuge munera luxfis ; 

Nulla volet proprio cassa labore dies. 

Nil tibi te debere putas ? nil patria poscit ? 

Num via doctrinae nulla terenda patet ? 

I, studiis incumbe bpnis ; sic, me duce, vises 
/Ethera, sic victi morte superstes eris.” 


Lonsdale. —'H ep/xoy\v<£iK^ Tt^vr). 

Dum per sacra vagor tacito penetralia gressu, 

Qua vetus Angliacae gloria vivit humi; 

Dum nitidas miror statuas, animataque busta, 
Busta cadarveribus nobilitata suis ; 

Marmora qu4 veroS fulgent imitantia vultus, 
Venaque non proprio sanguine plena tumet; 

Nescio quid sacri spirat locus iste timoris, 
Cordaque non solitis motibus acta tremunt. 

Quem primum tuear ? te, vatum maxime princeps, 
Te, cui Maeoniam fas tetigisse chelyn ; 

Qui nimis angustse spernens confinia terrae, 

Per non tentatos ausus es ire locos; 

Ausus es aetherias turmas, caelestiaque arma, 
Gestaque sidereis dicere bella plagis. 



. Nec tibi fama minor, magic'4 quem voce sonantem 
Audiit attonitl laetus Avonus aqua, 

Cui facilis paret lector, seu forte cachinnos 
Seu victo lacrimas ore movere.juvet. 

Te quoque, quem longis tellus emersa teriebris 
Tollere conspicuum vidit in orbe jubar, 

Te doctum tacitas Naturae pandere leges 
Miror, et ignotas omnibus ante vias : 

Cui Solis Lunzeque vices, <#i sidera nota, 

Quot rutilas caeli dant per inane faces. 

Fallor, an egregia resplendens arte videtur. 

Ingenii vires marmor habere tuas*? 

Ac veluti tu, die senex, ad sidera vultus 
Tollit, et aetherias ardet adire domos ? 

Necnon et veteres juvat aspectare triumphos, 
Dictaque funereo carmine facta ducum ; 

Quos supra memores edit Victoria fletus, 
Demissoque gemit lumine tristiS'Honor. 

Dum cirCumvolitans queritur sibl Tempus ademptos 
Imperii fasces invalidasque manus ; 

“ Ergo sic frustra victricia robora dextrae 
Jacto,” ait, “ et telis diruta cuncta meis ? 

Fugit'in asterniim quondam metuenda potestas, 
Obtusum rigidae falcis acumen hebet: 

Quicquid ego everti, solers Sculptura reponit, 
Occasuque jubet clarius esse suo.” 


Verses at Eton. 


. Lons dak.—Ludit herboso pecus omne campo. 

'Hviy’ o Trp&jrp? avrjp, Uarpos fcaXeoirro<;, dvearrj 
*Oi> T€/ce, 0ayfrovar)s oppievos etc Kovtqs, 

'ToiovS' ovpavode aretfravov Xafiev, olov avamoav 
Ovre rt? av ^BovuovX^rl^Tat,, out’ eXa(3e' 

Twpiv i-rri ttparl crretpavov 0eo? ayrof edrjxev, 
’ApfaTrepicrrdai)? ayyeXucrjt; <rrparirj$. 

%Trj Si Ta<f>a>v b peopTO<;- aval;' §axov S’ dfia iramaiv 
("O aaa piya<t r alOrfp, yrj t ipifforXos e-yei) 

E v6a\h evp-bipov T i)X0ev yevos aXXoOev aXXaiv 
’Apyov ov orjrouevorv, r/S’ eTrnreiaopevwv. 

2 ot Kpdro<!, o) 7 r pd>Ti<rr avSpcbv, ©609 duraaev evpv 
MetXt^o? fjvaade;, Sfjpos xrrreiKe deXcov. 

Pure avy’ dpj(opevoi^ arvykpw tca/cii prjaao 6vpa>, 
Ovre a* dp* rprlarovv, rj ipvyov apyopeyot. 

TrjOoavvrjrepijrei- re patcap UapaSeuro'} eXapire, 
IlA»/pea S’' r/v j^dptro^ rravra ical f/av^iijv. 

Tlypiaiv al SapdXai avvaOvpov, prfKa Xvtcoiai, 
Tloaal S’ ^x<ov dyavGis veflpov braise Xecov. 

’AprrXaiclp Si pirji rdSe reprrva SuoXero rrdvra, 

Hdv Si to rrplv koXov yiyver’ aeuceXiov. 

Kipre @eov, 7ra#e? ola ’ /caicr /?, & rXrjpvv, dpoifirji; 
"Hr ivl trot? Spvpoi 9, teal rrcnapol<; i<f>dvr). 

Zma veov Seos elXev ' ar dvdpd)'iroi<; rrplv opLXevv . 
*H cpvyov, rj Bvpov vX-ijpees atva fipepov. 

AXXd ical aXXrjXoi<: <j>poveov Kami • irbpTia rlypis, 
M^Xa XvkoC; fiXoavpo? veftpov threcpve Xecov. 
pot or dvBpdnrcov aperrj rreaev' ottl airy avrrj * 
'Her 1 / 3 ^t?/ rrdvrwv ev<f>poauvt)' t’ ihreaov. 

Verses at Eton. 

3 2 9 


Lonsdale .—Adinonitus locorum. Eton®, sub finem anni 1806. 
Hei mihi! quam rapido tempus pede praeterit! O cur 
Dii prohibent laetos tardius ire dies ? 

Hora venit quae me (propius vel dum loquof instat) 

' Solvet ab amplexu, dulcis Etona, tuo. 

Quid faciam ? frustra mora'mu'lta trahetur; eundum est. 
Quo nova me vitae pars, nova fata vocant. 

Ibiriius; at quemcurique mihi dent Numina cursum, 
Seu placidum spirat/seu fremit acre Notus, 

• Pectore tu memori vives, gratissima nutrix^ 

Tu desiderium non leve semper £ris. 

Forsitan et tempus .veniet, cum, nave solute, 

Et tumido vitae passus iniqua mari, 

Teque, tuosque iterum portus, dilecta,‘revisam, 

Qu4 scapha compositis tuta natabat aquis. 

Dumque locos peragTo, quos prima puertia norat, 

Et pedibus quondam rura notata meis, ’ 

Ilicet aetatis repetam vestigia lapsae, 1 

Gestaque, cum dubius, cura quid esset, eram: 

“ Hie memini, coqueret cum Sirius arva, juvabat 
Velocem, posita veste, ferire pilam : 

Haec arbor tumidci pulsata sonabat alutd, 

Urgebatque pedem pes, puerumque puer. 

Haec vetitis audax sulcabam flumina remis ; 

Hie erat undivagum fallere cura gregem, 

Saepe per hos agros, dulci comitatus amico, 

(Felix! qui talem sensit amicitiam!) 

330 Verses at Eton and Cambridge. 

Errabam variis fallens sermonibus horas, 

Cum vespertino rore madebat humus. 

O quoties ista spatiabar solus in umbr&, 

Nescio quid meditans, nec memor ipse mei! 

Ridebant socii mussantem carmina, si quid 
Noverat incomptum pangere Musa rudis. 

Hac sacer ille loci princeps in sede sedebat, 
Spectabatque suum plenus amore gregem : 

Jam venit ante oculos placidk ridentis imago, 
Jam'resonat blandae vocis in aure melos. 

Qu4m delectabat pariter, pariterque monebat! 
Qu4m piger ad pcenas, munera promptus erat!” 

Haec ego dum mecum reputo, mens aegra parumper 
Tristitiae poterit non memor esse suae; 

Pristina lassatos recreabunt gaudia sensus, 

Et veteres credam vix abiisse dies. 

X. Carmen numismate aureo Cantabrigise ornatum. 1807. 
In obitum Gulielmi Pitt. 

O si liceret grata dolentibus 
Haurire Lethes flumina! cur sonat 
Lugubre plectrum ? cur relictis, 

Musa, jocis hilarique ludo 

Tristem jubetur ducere naeniam 
In vita ? jam jam corde sub intimo 
Curae soporatae resurgunt 
Et positus renovatur angor. 

Death of Pitt. 


Erg6, Britanntim maxime, te quoque 
Lethi peremit dura necessitas ? 

Ergo sepulchrali sub um&, 

Noster. honos columenque, dormis } 

Quis nunc per aequor rupibus asperum 
Rerumque fluctus et vada turbida 

Quis imperl clavum tenebit, 


Et lacerara reget arte navem ? 

Divina fugit mens, animus vigil 
Fugit periclis cedere nesciuj,- 
Sagaxquc venturi tenebras 
Luce sua penetrare fati; 

Expers timorum, propositi tenax, 

Ad se trahentem cuncta pecuniam 
Contemnere audax, et secundis 
Temporibus, dubiisque rectus. 

Ilium nec amens vulgus, et impias 
Effraena j'actans seditio minas, 

•Nec hostium nubes tremendam 
Littbribus meditata cladem 

Concussit: inter funera gentium 
Vicesque diras, sceptraque funditus 
Disjecta non leni ruini 

Impavidus placidusque mansit. 

33 * 


Verses at Cambridge. 

Quis tempus illud non meminit grave, 
Atr&que foetos pernicie dies, 1 
Cum Gallia insanis per omne 
Acta nefas furiis, rubensque 

Nondum expiata caede, Britanniae 
Invidit oris pace fruentibus, 

Plebisque contendit qiiietas 
Peste novS vitiare mentes ? 

Gentis medullas sparsa per intimaS 
Contagia errant; jam magis et magis 
Occulta mussavit procella, 

Jam tremuit labefacta regni 

Columna : sed tu vi patrii valens 
Opem tulisti, maxime : te "duce 
Discordiae murmur resedit, 

Et tumidi'cecidere fluctus. 

Eheu ! perenni lingua silentio 
Compressa torpet, quae modo curiae 
Ccetus gubemabat- frequentes 
Rhetoricum jaculata fulmen. 

Qu4m corda verbis victa potentibus 
Cessere ! quanto contremuit metu, 
Quicunque secretum parabat 
Mente nefas, patriamve lucro 

Death of Pitt. 


Minus colebat! qualiter impio 

Daturus igni Romuleas domos 
Facundiam Tulli minacis 
. Attonitus Catilina fugit. 

O lux tuorum, nil vigor ingenl, 

Nil os disertum, nil valuit fides, 

Quin civium votis negatus 
Ante diem caderes in ipso 


Splendore famae ! Cilm tamen ultimus 

Vitae exeuntis deficeret calor,. 

Actisque pro nostrd salute 
Excubiis, nimi^que curd. 

Fractus jaceres, turn quoque languidam 

Mentem occupavit patria ; patriae 
Trementibus nomen labellis 
Haesit adhuc, voluitque.Iingua 

Orbae precari fausta Britanniae ; 

Sed dura lethi corripuit manus 
Loqui laborantenj, suisqiie 
Spiritus exsiluit catenis. 

Tantae superbam funere victimae 

Europa Mortem vidit, et horruit; 
Tristisque Libertas ademto 
Ingemuit graviter patrono. 


Verses at Cambridge. 

Quo plena luctu fleverit Anglia 

Sol ille testis, cum tibi publicus 
Novissimum munus sepulchri 
Solvit amor, tacitamque cives 

Duxere pomparn ; donee in aedibus 

Sanctus bonorum qui recubat cinis, 
Artus honorati quierunt 
Egregii prope patris urnam. 

At, si qua castis praemia manibus, 

Non occidisti; vivis, et ordini 
Adscriptus heroum beato 
vEtheri£ spatiaris or&. 


Nunquam minores (si vel adhuc memor 

Terrena miti lumine despicis) 

Te non recordantes videbis ; 
Nunquam erit, ut lateas silenti 

Oblivionis nocte reconditus : 

Sed paene lapsi presidium imperi 
Diceris, ardebitqqe frustra 
Invidiae furor obstrepentis. 

Vale, BritannOm gloria ; dum tuae 

Nutrix juventae Granta pio gemit 
Dolore sublatum, et verendos 
Phidiaci sacrat arte vultus.. 

Death of Pitt, 


Noster fuisti, cum jubar extulit 
Mens dia primum ; noster adhuc eris, 
Dulcesque, quas vivens am&sti, 
Effigie decorabis umbras. 

Erg6 omnis ibit marmor ad inclytum 
Futura pubes, perque tuum caput 
Jurabit in pulchros labores, 

Et patriae studium salutis : 


Laetusque claras laude nov4 domos 
Arundinoso praefluere alveo 
Superbiet Camus, tumensque 
Volvet aquas violentiores. 


Carmen numismate aureo Cantabrigix omatum, 1809. 
Lusitania liberata. 

“ Spirate flabris lene sonantibus 
Spirate, venti: vosque, maris Deae, 
Quaecunque per collum fluentes 
Coralio premitis capillos; 

Quascunque raptant per vada Atlantica 
Latere jussae terrigenas rotae; 

Adeste felices, sacrisque 

Sternite iter placidum carinis 



Verses at Cambridge . 

Vosque A-lbionis cedere nescii 

Salvete nati; promite Iiberas 
Per arva Lusitana vires, 

Et miseram reparate gentem. 

Jam bellicosae signa Britanniae 

Expansa blandos sollicitant Notos ; 
Jam turpe pallescens in ipsa, 
Galle, manum cohibes raping.” 

Has ore voces rupit ad aequoris 

Stans inquietum littus, et aureos 
Effusa Libertas capillos, 

Tempore quo sociam Britannus 

Admovit oris Hesperiis ratem ; 

IrSque fervens non inamabili, 
Saevasque rupturus catenas 
Explicuit sua laetus arma. 


Qu6, Musa, quo me proripis ? Audio 

Praegnantia atra clade tonitrua; 
Fumusque fulgoresque belli 
Ante oculos volitant trementes. 

Io 1 peractum est! Gallia, vinceris: 

Quis liberorum perferat impetum ? 
Instate, victrices catervae, 

Sternite humi trepidum latronem. 

Deliverance of Portugal. 


I nunc, heriles, maxime militum 
Ostende flatus! I, spolia irrita 
Nomenque Abrahteum recense 
Et scelerum pretiis superbi l 

At cur iniquo oppressa silentvo 

Cessant procellae murmura ferrese? 

Cur iste praesagus malorum 

Somnus adest, meritasque torpor, 


Compescit iras ? hei mihi! fcedera 
Cerno indecoris conditionibus 
Compdsta; devictusque victor 
Ipse suam posuit coronam. 

Sic, sic triumphas, Galle : quid impetum 
Jactamus acrem, et pectora concuti 
Ignara, versutis minores 
Consiliis tacit&que fraude ? 

Esto ; triumphes ; sed vetita fugax 
Tellure cedis ; sed populus tu& 

Exultat ereptus cateni et 
Liber agris fruitur paternis. 

Ergo rapina dives Iberica 
Tuse revises littora Sequanae ; 

Tagique merces et petitam 

Per gemitus lacrymasque gazam 

Z 2 


Verses at Cambridge. 

Inter superbae tecta Lutetiae 
Jactabis ? haud sic prensus abit lupus ; 
Haud sic quieverunt sopore 
Justitiae vigiles ocelli. 

Io ! soluti tollite tollite 
Paeana, cives! lux nova tristibus 
Affulsit oris, et voraces 
Aura favens alios in agros 

Torsit locustas : ludite, virgines 
Ludum priorem ; nocte sui caput 
Velavit obsccenum, fugaeque 
Terga dedit tremefacta raptor. 

O si, relictis sedibus aetheris 
Vatumque dulci nobilium choro, 
Paulisper in terras rediret 

Magna sacri Camoentis umbra ! 

O si pererrans rursus eburneam 
Audaciori pectine barbiton, 

Stellam renascentem suorum, 

Et profugos caneret tyrannos ! 

At tu, Braganzae non humilis nepos, 
Mandata fortis sperner'e Corsica, 
Orasque libertate laetas 
Exilio reparare pulchro, 

Deliverance of Portugal. 


Quze gaudiorum flumina pectore 

Volves ab imo, cum tibi patriam 
Narrabit emersam tenebris 
Lapsa levi pia Fama penna! 

Spero et gementis murmur Iberim 

Silebit olim : mille licet graves 
Premant reluctantem catense, 
Spernet humum ^enerosa virtus. 

Non vana fingo somnia; dum loquor, 

Firmat labantem Carolus Au6triam, 
Multoque Gallorum cruore 
Purpurei vada turbat Istri. 

Justo rependens funere funera 

Vis instat ultrix ; impete libero 
Resurget Europe triumphans, 
Praecipitemque ruet tyrannum. 

Resurget—erg£>, cilm jubar aureum 

Feliciores extulerint dies, 

Rursusque sacratum coronet 
Legitimas diadema frontes, 

Turn (nec remotus sit, precor, exitus !) 

Illustris exul, te pia patria 
Gaudebit amplecti reversum, 

Et solio decorare avito. 


Verses at Eton. 


Swift’s description of a City Shower. In imitation of Virgil’s ■ 

Careful observers may foretel the hour 
By sure prognostics, when to dread a shower. 

While rain depends, the pensive cat gives o’er 
Her frolics, and pursues her tail no more: 

Returning home at night, you’ll find the sink 
Strike your offended nose with double stink. . 

A coming shower your shooting corns presage, 

Old aches will throb, your hollow tooth will rage. 
Sauntering in coffee-house is Dulman seen, 

He damns the climatd and complains of spleen. 

If you be wise, then go not far to dine ; 

You’ll spend in coach-hire more than save in wine. 
Meanwhile the south, rising with dabbled wings, 

A sable cloud athwart the welkin flings. 

Brisk Susan whips her linen from the rope, 

While the first drizzling shower is borne aslope. 

Nor yet the dust had shunned the unequal strife, 

But aided by the wind, sought still for life ; 

And wafted with its foe by violent gust, 

’Twas doubtful which was rain, and which was dust 
Ah ! where must needy poet seek for aid, 

When dust and rain at once his coat invade ? . 

Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down. 
Threatening with deluge this devoted town. 

Prognostics of rain. 



Lonsdale .—Translation. Sent up for good, 1806. 

“ Aqux nisi follit augur.”—H or. 

Quisquis es, Urbis amans, qui plane scire laboras, 
Queis signis pluviae praemoneantur aquae, 

Haec lege ; te nunquam, mea si praecepta sequa'ris, 
Non expectato proluet imbre Notus. 

Tempore quo' pluvias intentant nubila, felis 
Mcesta jacet, caudam nej; petit ore suam. 

Turn gravius fcetet ser4 sub nocte cloaca, 

Satque prius teter, tetrior exit odor. 

Turn dolet, et tardo salit acrior in pede clavus, 

Et facilem somnum dens cavils esse vetat. 

Oscitat, et densum spleneticus aera damnat, 
Cauponae vacuis qua patet ampla domus. 

Si sapis, ad coenam turn longius ire caveto : 

Deficit aes ? reditus non tibi siccus erit. 

Evolat interea pennis humentibus Auster, 

Et potas nubes plurima reddit aquas. 

Pythias, ut primae crepitant per compita guttae, 
Pendula ab extremo lintea fune rapit. 

Sterni indignatur pulvis, surgitque reluctans, 
Auxilium valido sufficiente Noto. 

Jamque volant misti pulvisque imberque per auras ; 
O miseri, si quos ista prehendit hiems ! 

I, pete, dum fas est sicco, coenacula, vates, 

Quaeque tibi sola est, disce timere togae. 

Verses at Eton. 


To shops in crowds the daggled females fly, 
Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy. 
Boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits 
While spouts run clattering o’er the roof by fits. 
And ever and anon with frightful din 
The leather sounds, he trembles from within : 
So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed, 
Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed, 
Laocoon struck the outside with his speltr,' 

And each imprisoned hero quaked for fear. 


Invitation to the Feathered Race (Greaves). 

Again the balmy zephyr blows. 

Fresh verdure decks the grove ; 

Each bird with vernal rapture glows, 
And tunes his notes to love. 

Ye gentle warblers ! hither fly, 

And shun the noon-tide heat: 

My shrubs a cooling shade supply ; 

My groves, a safe retreat. 

Here, freely hop from spray to spray, 
Or weave the mossy nest; 

Here, rove and sing the live-long day; 
At night, here sweetly rest. 

Invitation to birds. 


At jam praecipitans vast! se mole procella 
Deucalioneis vix minor instat aquis. 

Femineae trepidant turbae, plenisque tabernis 
Collectae, spectant omnia, emuntque nihil. 

Sed bellum lectica tenet, circumque supraque 
Verberibus crebris unda inimica sonat. 
Contremit ille intus ; sic, cum sub mcenia Trojae 
Argolico praegnans milite venit equus, 
Laocoon monstrum ferro percussit acernum, 
Occultique sinu contremuere viri. 


Lonsdale. —Translation. 

Rursus hibernae fugiunt procellae, 
Rursus in campos violam rosamque 
Flora diffundit, Zephyrusque blandis 
Ventilat alis. 

Verls optat& vice recreatum 
Agmen exultat volucrum, caletque 
Cypridis notd face, pristinosque 

Instaurat amores. 

Hue, precor, dulces celerate, turbae ; 
Hie paro vobis placidos recessus, 
Qu& licet, nullo prohibente, tutis 

Ludere pennis ; 


Verses at Eton. 

Amid this cool translucent rill 
That trickles down the glade. 

Here bathe your plumes, here drink your fill, 
And revel in the shade. 

No school-boy rude, to mischief prone,. 

E’er shows his ruddy face, 

Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone, 

In this sequester’d place. 

Hither the vocal thrush repairs ; 

Secure the linnet sings ; 

The goldfinch dreads no slimy snares 
To clog her painted wings. 

Sad Philomel! ah, quit thy haunt 
Yon distant woods among, 

And round my friendly grotto chant 
Thy sweetly plaintive song. 

Let not the harmless red-breast fear, 
Domestic bird, to come, 

And seek a sure asylum here, 

With one that loves his home. 

My trees for you, ye artless tribe! 

Shall store of fruit preserve ; 

O! let me thus your friendship bribe ; 

Come, feed without reserve. 

Invitation to birds. 


Hie inornatos geminare cantus, 

Aut juvet molli latuisse nido, 

Aut levem noctu viridi sub umbrd 
Carpere somnum. 

Vester est, qui per mea septa currit 
Rivus ; ut fauces calido rigetis 
Sole ferventes, nimioque feedas 


Nullus hie dextra puer aut proterva 
Saxeam molem parat, aut acutum 
Dirigens plumbum, volucrum quietos 
Rumpit amores. 

PBc nec intortum laqueum timete 
Nec litae visco retin&cla virgae, 

Vana luctantes cohibentis arcti 

Compede pennas. 

Profer hie suaves, Philomela, questus; 
Vosque, cum Turdis, Merulae venite; 
Tuque nature placida, rubroque 
Pectore nota. 

Arbores nostrae sua poma vobis 
Offerunt, vobis cerasi dicantur; 
Dulcius fructus sapit, ante vestro 

Morsus ab ore. 


Verses' at Cambridge. 

For you these cherries I protect, 

To you these plums belong; 

Sweet is the fruit that you have peck’d, 
But sweeter far your song. 

Let then this league betwixt us made 
Our mutual interests guard : 

Mine be the gift of fruit and shade ; 
Your songs be my reward. • 


Euripides, Hecuba, 893-930. 
pev, <w -iraTph ’iXta?, 
to>v a-rropBrjTWD iroKvf 
owe rt \e%ei • toiov 'E\- 
Xaveov veto’s ap<f>( ae Kpxnrrei, 
Sopl St), Bopl irepaav. 
airo Be <rre<pdvav /ceicapcrai 
irvpywv, Kara S’ alddXov 
KijXtS’ oltcrpoTCLTav Ke'^pcocrcu, 
Tahxuv 1 ovKern a ipfiareucra). 
peaovwTios wWvpav, 

Tipot €K Behrvmv vttvos 
ySvs eV’ Screw } KtSvarcu * * 

Translation from Euripides. 


Foedus hoc ergo societ catena 
Mutua nosmet; mihi vos feretis 
Gutturis blandi melos, ipse vobis 

Tecta cibumque. 


Written in examination for the University scholarship, 1809. 

Heu ! occidisti funditus, Ilion : 

Non jam superbum, Patria, verticem 
Invicta jactabis, nec altas 

Jura dabis Phrygiae per urbes. 

Heu 1 occidisti: nube Pelasgica 
Cingit jacentem, perque tuas domos, 
Ferroque vastatas et igni, 

Torva tuens spatiatur hostis. 

Neptuniarum culmina turrium 
Lugubris atri labe tegit cinis : 

Actum est: nec antiquas parentum 
fas iterum peragrare sedes. 


Verses at Cambridge. 

[Mkirav 8’ atro tcai yop<yrrowv 
6v<nav Karatrav<Ta<!, 
iro<n<i iv 6dSfipoi<i e/cei to, 

%v<rrov S’ iirl •naaaaXcp, 
yavrav ovKed' 6pa>v o/uXov 
Tpolav ’I XuiB’ ep{3e/3a>Ta. 
iya) 8b ’ifXbicap.ov avaberois 
fiirpaunv eppvdputppMv, 

■Xpvcreav evoirrptav 
Xeucraovcr’ areppLOvas el? avya?, 
imSepivtov o>? iricroip! e? evvav. 
ava 8b iceXaSos epioXe ttoXiv * 
KeXevapM 8 ’ rjv tea t acrrv T po(- 
a? toS’ • w 7 ralSe? 'EXXawui/, 7rore 
8 ^, 7rore Tai> ’IXid 8 a <ncomdv 
•Kepcravres, ^er oikov? ; 

Xegt] 8b <f>l\ta povotrevXo? 
TuTrovcra, Aw pis d>9 Kopa, 

<repvdv 7T poal^ova, 
ovk fjvva, "ApTepuv, d rXaptov' . 
orfoficu be, vavovT ioova a/coirav 
top ifiov, dXiov iirl ireXar/o? * ■ 
iroXiv t ano<jKoiTov<T, brel 
vocmpov vav? i/civrjaev proSa, 
zeal pi diro 7 as wpicrev 'IXiaSos, 
rdXaiv', aireforov a\r/ei. 

Translation from Euripides. 


Nox sasva, nox me perdidit invida, 
Dulcisque serpens post epulas sopor : 
Securus in lecto maritus 
Carminibus choreique sacra 

Fessum levabat corpus ; et immemor 
Pendentis hastae credidit hostibus 
Fugisse visis, et peractos 
Urbis ovans meminit labores. 

At ipsa, formaeque et speculo vacans, 
Per colla fusas purpure& comas 
Mitri coercebam, j^ugali 
Molle caput positura le.cto. 

Sed ecce ! dirus moenia personat 
Turbata clamor: " Vadite, vadite, 
Troja triumphata superbi 
Ad patrias, Danai, Mycenas 

Turn pen£ nudo corpore, virginis 
Instar Lacaenae, destituo torum, 
Supplexque nequicquam pudicae 
Assideo genibus Dianae.- 

Viso mariti funere, turgidas 
Longe per undas Oceani trahor; 
Navisque cum victrix tetendit 
Vela Noto nimium secundo. 

Divisa caro littore patriae, 

Urbisque lapsas respiciens domos, 
Heu! mente defeci, et severo 
Procubui superata luctu. 


Declamation at Eton 



Non ignoro, judices, phiiosophum inter nos ex- 
titisse, qui nihil a naturae legibus veitari affirmaverit, 
nec pacem magis quam bellum humano generi con- 
sentaneam esse. Quod si ita sit, fateor, ut argute, sic 
etiam verb omnia ab adversario dicta esse, fateor, si 
bella perpetub gerenda sint, neminem nisi, qui arma 
armis propulsare potest, utilem civitati fore. Sed 
cum longb aliter se res habeat, cum bella et maximb 
a naturd aliena, ct ob hoc tantum suscipienda sint, ut 
sine injurid in pace vivatur, cum otii pulcherrimum 
et dulcissimum nomen nemo ferb sanus non amet, 
et veneretur; fidenter, quae sentiam, eloquar, neque 
dubito, quin prudentiam civitatibus multo magis quam 
fortitudinem prodesse rebus vincam necessariis. 

Primum igitur hoc pro certo, concessoque sumamus> 
pace laetius, quam bello vigere rempublicam : deinde 
pauca in iis per quae prudens aliquis et gnarus in re 
political administranda patriae suae pacem agentis opes, 
augere possit, commemoremus. Horum autem prae- 
cipuum esse arbitror legum salutarium promulga- 
tionem, in quo quidem fons ipse et origo utilitatis 
poni videtur. Quid enim pulchrius ? Quid fructuosius 
esse potest, qudm certos boni, et mali fines describere ? 

* Written by J. Lonsdale at Eton in March 1806, two months 
after the death of Pitt; sent by Sir John Coleridge. 

on courage and prudence. 


fraudes et injurias propulsare, puram denique illam 
justitiae sanctitatem inviolatara tueri. Adde seditiones 
compositas, et licentiam populi repressam, unde summa 
Sit inter cives et suavissima tranquillitas. Adde mer- 
caturas latius extentas, unde divitiae immenso quo- 
dam flqjiiine ad civitatem redundant Omitto sus- 
cepta artium patrocinia, omitto subjectos doctrinae 
stimulos, quo magis ingenua literarum et humanitatis 
studia efflorescant, et quasi ex umbra in solem pro- 
ferantur. Dum tot et tanta per prudentiam togatam 
geruntur, quid interea egregia ilia et decantata forti- 
tudo agit, in qui vulgus hominurii stupet, et quam 
exquisitissimis verbis laudavit adversarius ? Quid 
asper ille et impavidus bellator, qui nihil nisi prcelia 
novit, qui in caedibus totus est, quid nunc ad com- 
murtem fructum affert ? Languet nimirum et dor- 
mitat in otio paene ignobili, et rubiginem quandam 
tanquam armorum suorum contrahit. 

Hie verb aliquis tritum 'illud ferocis, paene dicerem 
amentis Tumi usurpet, * non replenda est Curia 
verbis. Tunc quum bella manus poscunt/ frustra 
sedemus consulentes, cbm hostis ante portas est: 
pariim in prudentii opis est, cum agri infesti militum 
incursione vastantur; actum est, nisi defensorem ali- 
quem, qui ferrum et ignem armis propulset, habeamus. 
Quid Numse instituta, quid Tarquinii zedificia Romae 
profuissent, nisi fugato ad Alliam exercitu, urbe di- 
reptd, imminens jam periculum Manlius, aut Camillus 

2 A 

35 * 

Declamation at Eton 

militari auxilio repulisset ? Magnam vim esse forti- 
tudinis in calamitatibus arcendis, cum- ad extrema 
perventum est, cum in ipsius belli ore et faucibus 
versamur, non inficior. Neque enim meum est aliquid 
de eorum laudibus detrahere, qui vitae gloriam prae- 
ponentes, morti pro patria se pulcherrim<b objecerunt. 
Hoc tamen dico ne in bello quidem, ubi praecipu& 
emicat militaris virtus, locum etiam prudentiae deesse. 
‘ Parvi enim sunt foris arma, nisi est consilium domi.’ 
Eget quibusdam fraenis fortitudo, quae nisi impetum 
ejus vehementem coerceant et temperent, multa te- 
mere, multa. infeliciter agit Pugnare potest fortis : 
‘ Esto, quis vero opportuna pugnandi tempora 
‘ eligit’ ?’ Quis t a traOpa rov nro\epov deprehendit ? 
Quis sumptus necessarios suppeditat? Quis praemia 
bene rcm gerentibus proponit ? Quis firma sociorum 
auxilia comparat ? Quis denique pacem honestam 
atque utilem restituit ? Nempe haec omnia soli accepta 
retulimus prudenti. Fortis interea partes secundas 
agit et quasi nervis qlienis movetur, quibus non minus 
inservit, quam qui navem remis propellit, gubernanti. 
Videtis ergo, judices, in civitatibus administrandis, 
prudentiam fortitudirii long£ antecellere : videtis hanc 
tantummodb in bello quicquam valere, sed in pace 
inutilem jacere : illam vero in omnibus aequ& tem- 
pestatibus, et cum togam, et cum sagum induerit, 
magnopere efficacem et fructuosam esse. Haec scilicet 
corporis est, ilia animi, quantoque. animus corpori. 

on courage And prudence. 


tanto ilia huic praestat et antecedit. Hanc denique 
(ut omnia uno verbo comprehendam) cum belluis 
illam cum Deo communem sortiti sumus. 

Cum autem civilem prudentiam tantis laudibus 
nec injurii, ut spero, cumulaverim, magnum columen 
argument! mei non attigisse viderer, si de egregio 
illo, ac paene divino viro, qui profecto, si quis alius, 
prudentia clarissim^ enituit, omnino silerem. Liceat, 
quaeso, liceat paulisper eum admirari, quern non 
solum patria ejus consiliis ab exitio toties servata, 
non solum Europa ab eo Jh libertatem toties vindicata, 
verum etiam omnes boni, quibuscunque terrarum in 
regionibus versentur, sanctissimum virtutis defen- 
sorem lugent atque desiderant. Negaverit quispiam 
quae loquor ? Videat famam popularem, videat 
crudelissimas civium seditiones sine sanguine re- 
pressas, videat Martem extremum ab aris et focis 
nostris defensum, videat hanc terram mercaturis flo- 
rentem, et divitiis undique hue advectis locupletatam, 
videat classem nostram maris toties dominatricem, et 
recentibus victoriis insignem: videat haec, inquam 
per hunc acta, constituta, administrata: eximiamque 
istius animi, quae tot et tanta efifecerit, magnitudinem 
uni mecum veneratione prosequatur. 

Te autem, vir amplissime, turn in vitae, flore, turn 
in ips4 famae tuae celebritate abreptum, quanto cum 
luctu, tanquam in procelld Palinuro Qrbati, mcereamus, 
difficile est dicere. Utinam vero non omnis moriaris ! 

2 A 2 


Declamation at Eton. 

Utinam tua cado recepta mens patriae in mediis peri- 
culis labanti etiam adhuc subveniat! Utinam gravis 
tua constantia, incorrupta probitas, et singularis sa- 
pientia usque ad.ultimum tempus summi cum Rei- 
publicae salute apud nos commoretur et vigeat. 

Quare, judices, per aeternam hujus viri memoriam, 
oro, obtestorque vos, ut caveatis, ne, si adversario 
nostro temere assenseritis, earn parum honoravisse 
videamini. Respicite antiquum illud de Achillis 
armis judicium, et ut Argolici duces suffragiis suis 
Ajaci Ulyssem recte praeposuerunt, similiter vos for- 
titudini prudentiam'hodie praeponite. 

The Bishop's Latin writings. 


Epitaph* on the Reverend Robert Wilkinson and 
his wife, in Halifax Parish Church, written by Bishop 
Lonsdale (see p. io). 

M. S. 





P. c. 

* The want of any special word for a mortuary inscription where 
there is no tomb is thought by good judges to justify this extended 
use of the word 1 epitaph ’ here and at p. 251. 





Digitized with financial assistance from the 
Government of Maharashtra 
on 02 July, 2018 


.. ' . 

-*aswi. ■ .