> r r 'ianS^CJS'fS LIFE OF JOHN COLERIDGE PATTESON MISSIONARY BISHOP of the MELANESIxVN ISLANDS BY CHARLOTTE MARY YONGE Thine heart shall fear and be enlarged Because the abundance of the sea shall be converted unto Thee Isaiah, Ix. s IN TWO VOLUMES Vol. I. SECOND EDITION ITonbon M A C M I L L A N AND CO. 1874 All rights ye.scyvert. LONDON : PRINTED HY SPOTTISWOOUli AND CO., NI£\V-S TUiaJT SQUAKE AND PARLIAMENT STRl-ET r' • ■ 1 PREFACE. There are of course peculiar advantages as well as disadvantag'es in endeavourino- to write the life of one recently departed. On the one hand, the remem- brances connected with him are far fresher ; his con- temporaries can be consulted, and much can be made matter of certainty, for which a few years would have made it necessary to trust to hearsay or probable con- jecture. On the other, there is necessarily much more reserve ; nor are the results of the actions, nor even their comparative importance, so clearly discernible as when there has been time to ripen the fruit. These latter drawbacks are doubled when the sub- ject of the biography has passed away in comparatively early life : when the persons with whom his life is chiefly interwoven are still in full activity ; and when he has only lived to sow his seed in many waters, and has barely gathered any portion of his harvest. Thus what I have written of Bishop Patteson, far more what I have copied of his letters, is necessarily only partial, although his nearest relations and closest friends have most kindly permitted the full use of all that could build up a complete idea of the man as he was. Many letters relate to home and famil)- matters, I. a lf« SETS vi Preface such as it would be useless and impertinent to divulge ; and yet it is necessary to mention that these exist, because without them we might not know how deep was the lonely man's interest and sympathy in all that concerned his kindred and friends. Other letters only repeat the narrative or the reflections given elsewhere ; and of these, it has seemed best only to print that w^hich appeared to have the fullest or the clearest ex- pression. In general, the story is best told in letters to the home party ; while thoughts are generally best expressed in the correspondence with Sir John Taylor Coleridge, to whom the Nephew seems to have written wath a kind of unconscious carefulness of diction. There is as voluminous a correspondence with the Brother, and letters to many Cousins ; but as these either repeat the same adventures or else are purely domestic, they have been little brought forward, except where any gap occurred in the correspondence which has formed the staple material. Letters upon the unhappy Maori war have been purposely omitted ; and, as far as possible, such criti- cisms on living personages as it seemed fair towards the writer to omit. Criticisms upon their publications are of course a different thing. My desire has been to give enough expression of Bishop Patteson's opinions upon Church and State affairs, to represent his manner of thinking, without transcribing every detail of remarks, which were often made upon an imperfect report, and were, in fact, only written down, instead of spoken and forgotten, because correspondence served ]u"m instead of coiu'crsation. Preface vii I think I have represented fairly, for I have done my best faithfully to select passages giving his mind even where it does not coincide completely with my own opinions ; being quite convinced that not only should a biographer never attempt either to twist or conceal the sentiments of the subject, but that either to apologise for, or as it were to argue with them, is vain in both senses of the word. The real disadvantage of the work is my own very slight personal acquaintance with the externals of the man, and my ignorance of the scenes in which the chief part of his life was passed. There are those who would have been far more qualified in these respects than myself, and, above all, in that full and sympathetic masculine grasp of a man's powerful mind, which is necessarily denied to me. But these fittest of all being withheld by causes which are too well known to need mention, I could only endeavour to fulfil the work as best I might ; trusting that these unavoidable de- ficiencies may be supplied, partly by Coleridge Patte- son's own habit of writing unreservedly, so that he speaks for himself, and partly by the very full notes and records with which his friends have kindly sup- plied me, portraying him from their point of view ; so that I could really trust that little more was needed than ordinary judgment in connecting and selecting. Nor until the work is less fresh from my hand will it be possible to judge whether I have in any way been allowed to succeed in my earnest hope and endeavour to bring the statue out of the block, and as it were to carve the figure of the Saint for his niche among those viii Preface who have given themselves soul and body to God's W^ork. It has been an almost solemn work of anxiety, as well as one of love. May I only have succeeded in causing these letters and descriptions to leave a true and definite impression of the man and of his example ! Let me here record my obligations for materials — I need hardly say to the immediate family and re- lations — for, in truth, I act chiefly as their amanuensis ; but likewise to the Bishop of Lichfield, Bishop Abra- ham, Lady Martin, the Rev. B. T. Dudley, the Rev. R. Codrington, and Captain Tilly, for their valuable aid — the two first mentioned by correction and revision, the others by contributions such as could only be sup- plied by eye-witnesses and fellow-workers. Many others I must thank for kindly supplying me with letters. CHARLOTTE MARY YONGE. ELDKRI'IELD, Otterijuurne September 19, 1873. LIST OF ISLANDS VISITED IN THE COURSE OF THE MELANESIAN MISSION. Group Native Name Spanish or French Name English Name Nengon^ or Maro Britannia Loyalty . . - Toka Lifu Uea Anaiteum Tanna New Hebrides- Futuna Nina Erromango Fata: — Sandwich Isle Mau Sakelaba — Hinchinbrooke Nguna .... — Montague Mataso .... — Two Hills Makura Mai — Three Hills Northern New J Tasiko or Apee Hebrides . ^ Lupevi Paama Malicolo or Sesok Ambrym Pentecote . . Whitsuntide Opa — Leper's Isle Maiwo .... — Aurora . — Espiritu Santo r Buninga Tongariki Shepherd Isles^ 1 Ivalea Iwose I Tongoa Oanuta . . — — Cherry Island Tikopia f Merealava . . . — Star Island Merigi .... — Betts Island Gana Santa Maria Banks . . . Vanua Lava . . Great Banks Mota — Sugar Loaf Valua .... — Saddle 1 Ravenga I Ureparapara — Islands visited in the Melanesian Mission LIST OF ISLANDS W^VYYAi— continued. Group Native Name Spanish or French Name English Name Roua .... _ Bligh Araa Banks . . ■ — Six Torres Islands Vanikoro . . . P^rouse — Tubua Tamnako . . . Duffs Island ■ Nunanga "] Bakarimo [ leli f • • Lomlom J Nukapu .... Indeni .... — Swallow's Island Santa Cruz Archipelago Santa Cruz Timolin's Island Tenakula . . . — Volcano Analogo . Nupani ■ Anudha .... Florida Mahaga .... Ysabel Oarii Santa Catalina Oaraha .... Santa Anna Solomon . \ Bauro .... San Cristoval Ulaua .... Contrariety Gera . 1 Maran ]"••'• Guadalcanar I Mara Malanta Sikania . . — — Stewart's or Hogan's Fore Matuwawe Mongaua . . — — Rennell Island Mongiki . . . — — Bellona PAGE CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. CHAPTER L CHILDHOOD AT HOME AND AT SCHOOL, 1827-1838 , . I CHAPTER H. BOYHOOD AT ETON, 1838-1845 18 CHAPTER HI, UNDERGRADUATE LIFE AT BALLIOL AND JOURNEYS ON THE CONTINENT, 1845-1852 . 49 CHAPTER IV. FELLOWSHIP OF MERTON, 1 85 2-1 854 S3 CHAPTER V. THE CURACY AT ALFINGTON, 1853-1855 .... I40 xii Contents of the First Vob^me CHAPTER VI. PAGE THE VOYAGE AND FIRST YEAR, 1855-1856 . . . . I91 CHAPTER Vn. THE MELANESIAN ISLES, 1856-1857 250 CHAPTER Vni. ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE AND LIFU, 1857-1859 .... 320 CHAPTER IX. MOTA AND ST. ANDREW'S COLLEGE, KOHIMARAMA, 1859-1862 433 PORTRAIT OF J. C. PATTESON .... FfOJlfispicce MAP . . to face p. 250 LIFE OF JOHN COLERIDGE PATTESON CHAPTER I. CHILDHOOD AT HOME AND AT SCHOOL 1 827-1838. So much of a man's cast of character depends upon his home and parentage that no biography can be complete which does not look back at least as far as the lives of the father and mother, from whom the disposition is sure to be in part inherited, and by whom it must often be formed. Indeed, the happiest natures are generally those which have enjoyed the full benefit of parental training without dictation, and have been led, but not forced, into the way in which they should go- Therefore it will not be irrelevant to dwell on the career of the father whose name, though still of great weight in his own profession, may not be equally known to the younger generation who have grown up since the words 'Mr. Justice Patteson' were of frequent occurrence in law reports. John Patteson, father of the subject of the present memoir, was son to a clergyman of a Norfolk family, ^d was born at Coney Weston on February 11, 2 Life of J oJin Coleridge Patteso7i [Ch. I. 1790. He was educated at Eton, and there formed more than one friendship, which not only lasted throughout his life, but extended beyond his own generation. Among the friends of his boyhood may be mentioned John Taylor Coleridge, destined through life to be his companion and colleague, and likewise Hawtrey, afterwards head-master of Eton ; Milman, afterwards Dean of St. Paul's, Lonsdale, and Charles Sumner, the future Bishops of Lichfield and Winches- ter. Sport and study flourished alike among such lads as these, and while they were taught by Dr. Goodall to delight in the peculiarly elegant and accurate scholarship which was the characteristic of the highest education of their day, their boyhood and youth were full of the unstained mirth that gives such radiance to recollections of the past, and often causes the loyalty of affectionate association to be handed on to succeeding generations. The thorough Etonian impress, with all that it involved, was of no small account in his life, as well as in that of his son. The elder John Patteson was a colleger, and passed on to King's College, Cambridge, whence, in 18 13, he came to London to study law. In 18 16 he opened his chambers as a special pleader, and on February 23, 18 18, was married to his cousin Elizabeth Lee, after a long engagement. The next year, 18 19, he was called to the Bar, and began to go the Northern circuit. On April 3, 1820, Mrs. Patteson died, leaving one daughter, Joanna Elizabeth. Four years later, on April 22, 1824, Mr. Patteson married Frances Duke Coleridge, sister of his friend and fellow- barrister, John Taylor Coleridge. This lady, whose name to all who remember her calls up a fair and sweet memory of all that was good, bright, and beloved, was the daughter of James Coleridge, of Heaths Court, 1827.] Birth 3 Ottery St. Mary, Devon, Colonel of the South Devon Volunteers.^ He was the eldest of the numerous family of the Rev. John Coleridge, Master of Ottery St. Mary School, and the poet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, was the youngest. The strong family affection that existed between all Colonel Coleridge's children, and concentrated itself upon the only sister among them, made marriage with her an adoption into a group that could not fail to exercise a strong influence on all connected with it, and the ties of kindred will be found throughout this memoir to have had peculiar force. John Coleridge Patteson, his mother's second child and eldest son, was born at No. 9, Gower Street, Bedford Square, on the ist of April 1827, and baptised on the 8th. Besides the elder half-sister already men- tioned, another sister, Frances Sophia Coleridge, a year older than, and one brother, James Henry, nearly two years younger than Coleridge, made up the family. Three years later, in 1830, Mr. Patteson was raised to the bench, at the unusually early age of forty. Here we will quote from a memoir printed soon after his death by Patrick Cumin, Esq. During the twenty-two years that elapsed between 1830 and 1852, there was of course ample means of testing the merit of the Judge. No man can administer for so long a period civil and criminal justice in this great country, in London, in Liverpool, in the Guildhall, or at the Old Bailey, without ^ Colonel Coleridge's -wife was Frances Taylor, daughter of Frances Duke, one of the co-heiresses of the old Devonshire family of Dukes, of Otterton. Elizabeth Duke, her sister, married the Rev. John Yonge, of Puslinch, my great grandfather ; and the connection, though now very distant, has never been forgotten, having been happily strengthened by ties of friendship in each generation. B 2 4 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteson [ch. i. gaining or losing reputation. The parties interested are too numerous, and their condition of life is too various, while the duties of an English Judge are almost all discharged in public, and his conduct is constantly watched and jealously criticised by that professional audience of rare discernment which thronq-s the bar. Nor should it be forcrotten that the body of solicitors and solicitors' clerks who are constantly brought into practical contact with a judge are critics whose judgment cannot be neglected. His style was admirably clear and succinct ; it reflected the character of his mind ; in truth, he had every quality of a great judge. His readiness and his acuteness were prominent, while his singular impartiality was scarcely less conspicu- ous. He had no difficulty in understanding the most complicated statement of fact, or in following the most subtle train of argument. His memory was such that no fact, however slight, escaped him. Even in describing the flight of a covey of partridges and accounting for them, or in discussing the details of a game of whist, his characteristic minuteness and perspicuity received constant illustrations ; his powerful judgment refused to be cajoled by any sophistry however ingenious, and the mere statement of his view seemed to explode the most elaborate fallacy. It is said that the statement of Lord Mansfield was worth another man's argument, and the same might have been said of Mr. Justice Patteson. He had moreover a perfect acquaintance with the principles of the law which he had to administer, and with the whole scries of cases in wliich those principles had been established and illustrated.' .... 1827-1835.] '^^^ Bench of 1830 5 Indeed it is probable that there never was a period when the Judicial Bench could reckon a larger number of men distinguished not only for legal ability but for the highest culture and for the substantial qualities that command confidence and respect. Those who can recollect the regard in which were held the names of Parke, Denman, Alderson, as well as Patteson and Coleridge, and somewhat later, though still contempo- rary, Erskine, Wightman, Erie, and Talfourd, will feel that the middle of the nineteenth century was a time when England might well be proud of her Judges. There was much in the habits of the Bench and Bar to lead to close and friendly intimacy, especially on the circuits. When legal etiquette forbade the use of any public conveyance, and junior barristers shared post- chaises, while the leaders travelled in their own carriages, all spent a good deal of time together, and it was not unusual for ladies to go a great part of the circuit with their husbands, especially when it lay in the direction of their own neiorhbourhood. The Judges' families often accompanied them, especially at the summer assize, and thus there grew up close associations between their children, which made their intimacy almost like that of relationship. Almost all, too, lived in near neighbourhood in those parts of London that now are comparatively deserted, but which were then the especial abodes of lawyers, namely those adjacent to Bedford Square, where the gardens were the daily resort of their children, all playing together and knowing one another with that familiarity that childhood only gives. The children of Judges Patteson and Coleridge were thus constantly meeting during their London life ; and besides the tie of relationship between these two brothers-in-law, Judge Patteson held closely the bond 6 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [ch. I. of county affinity with Baron Alderson, likewise a Norfolk man, and in whom there was something especially congenial both in depth of religious principle and in more external qualities, for while Mr. Justice Patteson was full of comic humour and drollery, in- finitely enjoying merriment and constantly creating it, Mr. Baron Alderson possessed a brilliant wit and power of repartee which broke out in so many boii mots that every witty saying of the day used to be attributed to him. In fact, to be the child of a Judge, meant to belong to the choicest intellectual and professional society in town, and to have the opportunity of seeing much of country life and making acquaintance in all parts of England, when Judges were more elaborately welcomed and entertained by the magnates of the county than is always the case now railways have made the transit so much more swift and easy. * Sir John Patteson's contemporaries have nearly all, one by one, passed away,' writes one of them, Sir John Taylor Coleridge. ' He has left few, if any, literary monuments to record what his intellectual powers were ; and even in our common profession the ordinary course and practice are so changed, that I doubt whether many lawyers are now familiar with his masterly judgments ; but I feel that I speak the truth when I describe him as a man of singularly strong common sense, of great acutencss, truthful- ness, and integrity of judgment. These were great judicial qualities, and to these he added much sim- plicity and geniality of temper and manners; and all these were crowned by a firm, unhesitating, de- vout Ixlid in the doctrines of our faith, which issued in strictness to himself and the warmest, gentlest charity to his fellow-creatures. The result was what ^827-1835.] '^^^^ y'i('dge and Lady Pattcson 7 you might expect. Altogether it would be hard to say whether you would characterise him as a man unusually popular or unusually respected.' Such was the character of Mr. Justice Patteson, a character built upon the deep, solid groundwork of religion, such as would now be called that of a sound churchman of the old school, thoroughly devout and scrupulous in observance, ruling his family and house- hold on a principle felt throughout, making a conscience of all his and their ways, though promoting to the ut- most all innocent enjoyment of pleasure, mirth, or gaiety. Indeed, all who can look back on him or on his home remember an unusual amount of kindly, genial cheer- fulness, fun, merriment, and freedom, i.e. that obedient freedom which is the most perfect kind of liberty. Though this was in great part the effect of having such a head of the family, the details of management could not but chiefly depend upon the mother, and Lady Patteson was equally loved for her tenderness and respected for her firmness. ' She was, indeed,' writes her brother, ' a sweet and pious person, of the most affectionate, loving disposition, without a grain of selfishness, and of the stoutest adherence to principle and duty. Her tendency was to deal with her children fondly, but this never interfered with good training and discipline. What she felt right, she insisted on, at whatever pain to herself.' She had to deal with strong characters. Coleridge, or Coley, to give him the abbreviation by which he was known not only through childhood but through life, was a fair little fellow with bright deep-blue eyes, inheriting much of his nature from her and her family, but not by any means a model boy. He was, indeed, deeply and warmly affectionate, but troublesome 8 Life of John Cok^Hdge Patteson [Ch. I. through outbreaks of will and temper, showing all the ordinary instinct of trying how far the authorities for the time being will endure resistance ; sufficiently indolent of mind to use his excellent abilities to save exertion of intellect ; passionate to kicking and screaming pitch, and at times showing the doggedness which is such a trial of patience to the parent. To this. Lady Patteson * never yielded ; the thing was to be done, the point given up, the temper subdued, the mother to be obeyed, and all this upon a principle sooner understood than parents suppose.' There were countless instances of the little boy's sharp, stormy gusts of passion, and his mother's steady refusal to listen to his ' I will be good ' until she saw that he was really sorry for the scratch or pinch which he had given, or the angry word he had spoken ; and she never waited in vain, for the sorrow^ was very real, and generally ended in ' Do you think God can forgive me ?' When Fanny's love of teasing had exasperated Coley into stabbing her arm with a pencil, their mother had resolution enough to decree that no provocation could excuse ' such unmanliness ' in a boy, and inflicted a whipping which cost the girl more tears than her brother, who was full of the utmost grief a child could feel for the offence. No fault was lightly passed over; not that punishment was inflicted for every misde- meanour, but it was always noticed, and the children were shown with grave gentleness where they were wrong ; or when there was a squabble among them, the mother's question, ' Who will give up ? ' generally pro- duced a chorus of ' I ! I ! I ! ' Withal ' mamma' was the very life of all the fun, and play, and jokes, enjoying all with spirits and merriment like the little ones' own, and delighting in the exchange of caresses and tender epithets. Thus affection and generosity grew up 1832.] The First Bible 9 almost spontaneously towards one another and all the world. Once, when on a visit to Oxford, little Fanny- put her foot through a pane of glass, and cried out in dismay, ' Oh, mamma, I did not mean to be an expense to you ! ' Coley put his whole property, three shillings, into her hand to repair the damage. On this disposition was grafted that which was the one leading characteristic of Coley's life, namely, a reverent and religious spirit, which seems from the first to have been at work, slowly and surely subduing inherent defects, and raising him, step by step, from grace to grace. Five years old is in many cases an age of a good deal of thought. The intelligence is free from the misapprehensions and misty perceptions of infancy ; the first course of physical experiments is over, freedom of speech and motion have been attained, and yet there has not set in that burst of animal growth and spirits that often seems to swamp the deeper nature through- out boyhood. By this age, Coley was able to read, and on his birthday he received from his father the Bible which was used at his consecration as Bishop twenty -seven years later. He read it eagerly, puzzled his brains as to what became of the fish during the Flood, and, when suddenly called to the nursery, begged to be allowed to ' finish the binding of Satan for a thousand years.' When, in his last letter, he calls it idle and selfish in himself to be eng-rossed with reading Isaiah in Hebrew with Delitzsch's comments, it is im- possible not to recollect the lines of one who had known and loved his mother : — They talk of wells in caverns deep Whose waters run a wondrous race Far underground, and issuing keep Our floating tokens, bright or base: lo Life of yohii Coleridge Pattcson [Ch. I. So in the child's light play we read The portion to the man decreed; His future self he seeks to prove In camp or field, in warfare or in love. — Kcblc. For in those days he used to say that his first sermon should be on Is. Hii. He had an earnest wish to be a clergyman, because he thought saying the Absolution to people must make them so happy, ' a belief he must have gleaned from his Prayer-book for himself, since the doctrine was not in those days made prominent.' The purpose was fostered by his mother. ' She delighted in it, and encouraged it in him. No thought of a family being to be made, and of Coley being the eldest son, ever interfered for a moment. That he should be a good servant at God's altar was to her above all price. '^ . Of course, however, this was without pressing the thought on him. He grew on, with the purpose accepted but not discussed, except from time to time a half-playful, half-grave reference to himself as a future clergyman. Another of these foreshadowings, if we may venture so to call them, is remembered in connection with the great West Indian hurricane of August ii, 1833, when Coley was much excited by the story of the exer- tions of his mother's cousin, Dr. William Coleridge, first Bishop of Barbadoes, and exclaimed, ' I will be a Bishop ! I will have a hurricane ! ' and in truth his ideal of life may then have received an impress which later interests deepened. Reverence was strongly implanted in him. His old nurse (still his sister's valued servant) remembers the little seven years old boy, after saying his own prayers at her kiKic, standing opposite to his little brother, admonishing him to attention with ' Tliink, Jemmy; ' Sec J. T. Coleridge. 1834-] Early Religions Training ii think.' In fact, devoutness seems to have been natural to him. It appears to have been the first strongly traceable feature in him, and to have gradually subdued his faults one by one. Who can tell how far this was fostered by those old- fashioned habits of strictness which it is the present habit to view as repellent ? Every morning, immedi- ately after breakfast, Lady Patteson read the Psalms and Lessons for the day with the four children, and after these a portion of some book of religious instruc- tion, such as ' Home on the Psalms ' or ' Daubeny on the Catechism.' The evenino- studies were in charo^e of Miss Neill, the governess, and the life-long friend of her pupils ; but the mother made the religious instruc- tion her individual care, and thus upheld its pre-emi- nence. Sunday was likewise kept distinct in reading, teaching, employment, and whole tone of conversation, and the effect was assuredly not that weariness which such observance is often supposed to produce, but rather lasting benefit and happy associations. Coley really enjoyed Bible reading, and entered into explanations, and even then often picked up a passage in the sermons he heard at St. Giles's-in-the-Fields from the Rev. J. Endell Tyler, and would give his home oracles no peace till they had made it as clear to his comprehen- sion as was possible. The love of his home may be gathered from the fact that his letters have been preserved in an unbroken series, beginning from a country visit in 1834, after a slight attack of scarlet fever, written in the round-hand of a boy of seven years old, and finished off with the big Roman capitals FINIS, AMEN, and ending with the uncompleted sheets, bearing as their last date September 19, 1871. The boy's first school was at Ottery St. Mary, in 12 Life of JoJin Coleridge Patteson [Ch. i. Devonshire, of which his great grandfather and great uncle had both been head-masters. It is in many respects a remarkable place, being one of the King's schools endowed at the Reformation out of the ruins of older institutions. ' Awtrey St. Mary' had originally owned a college of clergy and canons, endowed by Bishop Grandison, of Exeter, and chartered by Edward III., and with a school attached to it. When Henry VIII. broke up the college, giving the great tithes to the chapter of Windsor, and the estates to his brother- in-law Seymour, the school was, however, allowed to survive under the title of the King's New Grammar School. It had its vicissitudes depending on the qualities of the master. At the end of the 1 7th century it numbered two hundred scholars, and shortly after not one. Under the Rev. John Coleridge (father of the Colonel) it recovered its prosperity, but after his time so declined, that when his son George obtained the mastership, he found only two scholars at the utmost, and the schoolroom tenanted by poultry and rabbits. Under him, with the assistance of his brother Edward, Ottery rose again to well-merited distinction, for he was a most thorough-going teacher, requiring an amount and accuracy of work that stimulated the strong and willing though it sometimes crushed the weak. Most of the Devonshire men of that day began, and some finished, their education there ; and many of those who were transferred to public schools were wont in after life to say that they had not only learned more at Ottery than anywhere else, but that they had there been taught the most important means of study, namely, how to learn. Under George Coleridge, Ottery became, and continued for many years after his death, the principal preparatory school of the county, and the Rev. Sidney 1835-] Ottery St. Mary 13 W. Cornish was the master in 1835, when Coleridge Patteson entered it. On one whose love of the beautiful was innate, the Church of St. Mary could not fail to have a strong attraction. At that time neglect, mischief, whitewash, and the carpentry of comfort had done their utmost to deface its beauty, but nothing could entirely disguise the grandeur of the mass of building with the two towers, one surmounted by a curious lead-covered spire ; nor destroy the majestic effect of the interior, so spacious and lofty as to seem more like a cathedral than a parish church. The whole place is one that greatly attaches those connected with it, for though the market town itself possesses little of interest, and the adjoining country has not the striking features of the more westerly parts of the county, the Otter is a lovely river, and the valley is enclosed by steep banks abounding in pleasant nooks, made beautiful by trees and brushwood. One of these, the Pixie's parlour, has been celebrated by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and the whole place well deserves the tribute paid to it by another of its scholars, the Rev. George Cornish : — Then honour to St. Mary's tower, The college and the school, And honour to the Pixie's bower, And to the maiden pool ; May they to boys hereafter be The teachers they have been to me. Still may these haunts, these groves, this sky Kind ministrations yield, The common things that round them lie Their better nature build, And teach them gently to improve All harsher feelings into love. There was much to make Ottery homelike to Coley, for his grandparents lived at Heaths Court, close to 14 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteson [ch. I. the church, and in the manor house near at hand their third son, Francis George Coleridge, a sohcitor, whose three boys were near contemporaries of-Coley, and two of them already in the school. But to so loving a nature the separation from home was a terrible disaster, and the first letter was doleful enough : — * I never can be happy till I have left college, except in the holidays. School is a place of torment almost to me, but I must go to school some time or other, or else I shall never be a judge, as I hope to be some day. To think of you all makes me chry. I believe you will not mind that blot, for it was a tear just before that fell.' Be it observed that the superfluous // in ' chry ' is the only misspelling in the little eight years old boy's unassisted composition. From first to last these letters to his parents show no symptom of carelessness, they are full of ease and confidence, outpourings of whatever interested him whether small or great, but always respectful as well as affectionate, and written with care and pains, being evidently his very best ; nor does the good old formula, ' Your affectionate and dutiful son,' ever fail or ever produce stiffness. The shrinking from rough companions, and the desire to be with the homelike relatives around, proved a temptation, and the little boy was guilty of makiner false excuses to obtain leave of absence. We cannot refrain from giving his letter of penitence, chielly for the sake of the good sense and kindness of his uncle's treatment. 1 S36.] Correction 1 5 April 26, 1836, My dear Papa, — I am very sorry for having told so many falsehoods, which Uncle Frank has told mamma of. I am very sorry for having done so many bad things, I mean falsehoods, and I heartily beg your pardon ; and Uncle Frank says that he thinks, if I sta)', in a month's time Mr. Cornish will begin to trust me again. Uncle Frank to-day had me into his house and told me to reflect upon what I had done. He also lectured me in the Bible, and asked me different questions about it. He told me that if I ever told another falsehood he should that instant march into the school and ask Mr. Cornish to strip and birch me ; and if I followed the same course I did now and did not amend it, if the birching did not do, he should not let me go home for the holidays, but I will not catch the birching . . . So believe me your dear Son, J. C. Patteson. On the flap of the letter ' Uncle Frank ' writes to the mother. My dear Fanny, — I had Coley in my room to-day, and talked to him seriously about his misdeeds, and I hope good has been done. But I could scarcely keep my countenance grave when he began to re- duce by calculation the exact number of fibs he had told. He did not think it was more than two or three at the utmost, and when I brought him to book, I had much to do to prevent the feeling that the sin consisted in telling many lies. However, the dear boy's confession was as free as could be expected, and I have impressed on his mind the 1 6 Life of yohn Coleridge Pattesoit [Ch. I. meanness, cowardice, and wickedness of the habit, and what it will end in here and hereafter. He has promised that he will never offend in future in like manner, and I really believe that his desire to be away from the school and at ease among his friends induced him to trump up the invitations, &c., to Mr. Cornish, in which consisted his first fibs. I shall watch him closely, as I would my own child ; and Cornish has done wisely, I think, by giving the proper punishment of confining him to the school court, &c., and not letting him go to his friends for some time. The dear boy is so affectionate, and has so much to work on, that there is no fear of him ; only these things must be looked after promptly, and he must learn practically (before his reason and religion operate) that he gains nothing by a lie. . . He is very well, and wins one's heart in a moment. . . Ever your affectionate Brother, F. G. C. The management was effectual, and the penitence real, for this fault never recurred, nor is the boy's conduct ever again censured, though the half-yearly reports often lament his want of zeal and exertion. Coley was sufficiently forward to begin Greek on his first arrival at Ottery, and always held a fair place for his years, but throughout his school career his cha- racter was not that of an idle but of an uninterested boy, who preferred play to work, needed all his con- science to make him industrious, and then was easily satisfied with his licrformances, naturally comparing them with those of other boys, instead of doing his own utmost, and giving himself full credit for the diligence he thought he had used. For it must be 1835.] sports at Ottery 17 remembered that it was a real, not an ideal nature ; not a perfect character, but one full of the elements of growth. A childish, childlike boy he was now, and for many years longer, intensely fond of all kinds of games and sports, in which his light active form, great agility, and high spirit made him excel. Cricket, riding, running races, all the school amusements were his delight ; fireworks for the 5th of November sparkle with ecstasy through his letters, and he was a capital dancer in the Christmas parties at his London home. He had like- wise the courage and patience sure to be needed by an active lad. While at Ottery, he silently bore the pain of a broken collar-bone for three weeks, and when the accident was brought to light by his mother's em- brace, he only said that ' he did not like to make a fuss.' Consideration for others, kindness, and sweetness of nature were always his leading characteristics, making him much beloved by all his companions, and an excellent guardian and example to his little brother, who soon joined him at Ottery. Indeed the love between these two brothers was so deep, quiet, and fervid that it is hard to dwell on it while ' one is taken and the other left.' It was at this time a rough, buffet- ing, boyish affection, but it was also a love that made separation pain and grief, and on the part of the elder it showed itself in careful protection from all harm or bullying, and there was a strong underlying current of tenderness, most endearing to all concerned with the boys, whether masters, relations, friends, or servants. 1 8 Life of yohn Coleiddge Patteson [Ch. ll. CHAPTER II. BOYHOOD AT ETON 1838— 1845 After the Christmas holidays of 1837-8, when Coley Patteson was nearly eleven years old, he was sent to Eton, that most beautifully situated of public schools, whose delightful playing fields, noble trees, broad river, and exquisite view of Windsor Castle give it a peculiar charm, joining the venerable grandeur of age to the freshness and life of youth, so as to rivet the affections in no common degree. It was during the head-mastership of Dr. Hawtrey that Patteson became, in schoolboy phrase, an Eton fellow, being boarded in the house of his uncle, the Rev. Edward Coleridge, one of the most popular and successful Eton masters. Several of his cousins were also in this house, with other boys who became friends of his whole life, and he was thoroughly happy there, although in these early days he still felt each departure from home severely, and seldom failed to write a mournful letter after the holidays. There is one, quite pathetic in its simplicity, telling his mother how he could not say his prayers nor fall asleep on his first night till he had resolutely put away the handker- chief that seemed for some reason a special link with hoiiie. It illustrates what all who remember him say, how thoroughly a childlike b(.:ing lie still was, though a 1838.] Montem 19 \ve]l-;^rown, manly, high-spirited boy, quite able to take care of himself, keep his place, and hold his own. He was placed in the lower remove of the fourth form, which was then ' up to ' the Rev. Charles Old Goodford, i.e. that was he who taught the division so called in school. The boy was evidently vv^ell pre- pared, for he was often captain of his division, and his letters frequently tell of successes of this kind, while they anticipate ' Montem.' This festival has been so long abolished that a few words of explanation may be needed. It seems to have been a remnant of old times when students lived upon alms that once in three years the captain of the school, always a King's scholar, was allowed to make a collection to pay his expenses at King's College, Cambridge. In memory of good King Henry VI. the Court always held itself bound to contribute, meeting the boys for the purpose ad Montem (at the mountain) called Salt Hill, because the needs of the scholar passed under the general term of salt, and the name had passed on to the gifts made to provide for them. Originally this collection seems to have been made on December 6, Feast of St. Nicholas, the patron of scholars, and to have been the finale to a religious service performed in Latin on Salt Hill by the boys, no doubt one of those children's ceremonials, beginning on that day and ending on the Feast of the Holy Innocents, which prevailed in different forms through- out the Western Church in commemoration of the Childhood of our Lord, and almost always degenerat- ing into irreverence and buffoonery. When roads ceased to be impassable, so that schools could break up for Christmas holidays, Montem was transferred to the sunshine of Tuesday in Whitsun week. Two boys, dressed as parson and clerk, con- c 2 20 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteson [ch. il. tinned to go through the Latin service until far on into the eighteenth century, when tlie irreverence of the proceeding caused its discontinuance, and the pageant was Hmited to a procession of the boys three times round the school yard, and then to Salt Hill, where a flag was waved and a dispersion took place, the salt- bearers gathering their dole, and the others disporting themselves among the friends and kin who mustered strongly on those days, dear to the Etonian heart both old and young. The captain of the school wore the scarlet and gold of the corresponding rank in the army, and the rest of the sixth form, always twenty in number, figured in uniform as his officers, excepting the two salt-bearers, who wore fancy dresses of gorgeous silk and velvet, carried large embroidered bags as purses, and were attended each by two little pages, selected from among the fags, and attired with equal splendour. The fifth form, which comprehended about half the school in its many subdivisions, wore red coats, white trousers, silk stockings, and cocked hats, as the rank and file, and each was attended by a ' lower boy ' in an Eton blue coat with a wand in his hand ; so that the pro- cession was a brilliant mixture of red, blue, and white, delightful to the admiring gaze of mothers, sisters, and cousins, as it marched beneath the grey buildings, or below the elms in their early summer freshness. Railroads have been the destruction of Montem. The cheap and easy transit rendered Salt Hill no longer the resort merely of kindly friends connected with Eton, but of an unmanageable number of sight- seers ; the expenses were felt to be a heavy tax upon parents, and the year 1844 saw the last Montem. But that of 1S38 was a brilliant one, for Queen Victoria, then only nineteen, and her first year of 1838.] Windsor Terrace 21 sovereignty not yet accomplished, came from the Castle to be driven in an open carriage to Salt Hill and bestow her Royal contribution. In the throng, little Patteson was pressed up so close to the Royal carriage that he became entangled in the wheel, and was on the point of being dragged under it, when the Queen, with ready presence of mind, held out her hand : he grasped it, and was able to regain his feet in safety, but did not recover his perceptions enough to make any sign of gratitude before the carriage passed on. He had all a boy's shyness about the adventure ; but perhaps it served to quicken the personal loyalty which is an unfailing characteristic of ' Eton fellows.' The Royal custom of the Sunday afternoon parade on the terrace of Windsor Castle for the benefit of the gazing public afforded a fine opportunity for cultivating this sentiment, and Coley sends an amusingly minute description of Her Majesty's dress, evidently studied for his mother's benefit, even to the pink tips of her four long ostrich feathers, and calling to mind Chalon's water-colours of the Queen in her early youth. He finishes the description with a quaint little bit of moralising. ' It certainly is very beautiful with two bands playing on a calm, blessed Sunday evening, with the Queen of England and all her retinue walking about. It gives you an idea of the Majesty of God, who could in one short second turn it all into confu- sion. There is nothing to me more beautiful than the raising one's eyes to Heaven, and thinking with adoration who made this scene, and who could un- make it again.' A few clays later the record is of a very different scene, namely, Windsor Fair, when the Eton boys 2 2 Lite of folui Coleridge Paticsou [Ch. ii, used to imaginre they had a prescriptive right to make a riot and revel in the charms of misrule. * On the second day the Eton fellows always make an immense row. So at the signal when a thing was acting, the boys rushed in and pulled down the cur- tain, and commenced the row. I am happy to say I was not there. There were a great many soldiers there, and they all took our part. The alarm was given, and the police came. Then there was such a rush at the police. Some of them tumbled over, and the rest half knocked down. At last they took in custody three of our boys, upon which every boy that was there (amounting to about 450) was sum- moned, lliey burst open the door, knocked down the police, and rescued our boys. Meantime the boys kept on shying rotten eggs and crackers, and there was nothing but horhtinor and rushinof.' A startling description ! But this was nothing to the wild pranks that lived in the traditions of the elder generation ; and in a few years more the boys were debarred from the mischievous licence of the fair. Coley had now been nearly a year at Eton, and had proceeded through the lower and middle removes of the fourth form, when, on November 23, he achieved the success of which he thus writes : — * Rejoice ! I was sent up for good yesterday at eleven o'clock school. I do not know what copy of verses for yet, but directly I do, I will send you a copy. . . . Goodford, when I took my ticket to be signed (for I was obliged to get Goodford, Abraham, and my tutor to sign it), said, " I will sign it most willingly," and then kept on stroking my hand, and said, " I con- gratulate you most heartily, and am very glad of it." I am the only one who is sent up ; which is a good 1839.] Illumination for the Queens Wedding 23 thing for me, as it will give me forty or fifty good marks in trials. I am so splitting with joy you cannot think, because now I have given you some proof that I have been lately sapping and doing pretty well. Do not think that I am praising my- self, for I am pretty nearly beside myself, you may suppose.' One of his cousins adds on the same sheet, ' I must tell you it is very difficult to be sent up in the 7ipper fourth form, and still more so in the middle remove.' The subject of the Latin verses which obtained this distinction was a wreath or garland, and there must have been something remarkable in them, for Mr. Abraham preserved a copy of them for many years. There was something in the sweetness and docility of the boy, and in the expression of his calm, gentle face, that always greatly interested the masters and made them rejoice in his success ; and among his comrades he was a universal favourite. His brother joined him at Eton during the ensuing year, when the Queen's wedding afforded the boys another glimpse of Royal festivity. Their tumultuous loyalty and auda- city appear in Coley's letter. ' In college ; stretching from Hexter's to Mother Spier's was a magnificent representation of the Par- thenon : there were three pillars, and a great thing like this (a not over successful sketch of a pediment), with the Eton and Royal arms in the middle, and " Gratulatur Etona Victoria; et Alberto^ It cost 150/., and there were 5,000 lamps hung on it. Throughout the whole day we all of us wore large white bridal favours and white gloves. Towards evening the clods got on Long Walk Wall, and as gentle means would not do, we were under the 24 Life of yoJm Coleridge Patteson [Ch. ii. necessity of knocking some over, when the rest soon jumped off. However, F and myself declared we would go right into the quadrangle of the Castle, so we went into the middle of the road and formed a line. Soon a rocket (the signal that the Queen was at Slough) was let off, and then some Life- Guards came galloping along, and one of them ran almost over me, and actually trod on F 's toe, which put him into dreadful pain for some time. Then came the Queen's carriage, and I thought college would have tumbled down with the row; The cheering was really tremendous. The whole 550 fellows all at once roared away. The Queen and Consort nodding and bowing, smiling, &c. Then F and I made a rush to get up behind the Queen's carriage, but a dragoon with his horse almost knocked us over. So we ran by the side as well as we could, but the crowd was so immensely thick, we - could not get on as quick as the Queen. We rushed alone, knocking: clean over all. the clods we could, and rushing against the rest, and finally F and myself were the only Eton fellows that got into the quadrangle. As we got there, the Queen's carriage was going away. You may fancy that we were rather hot, running the whole way up to the Castle, besides the exertion of knocking over the clods and knocking at doors as we passed ; but I was so happy.' Such is bliss at twelve years old ! The first half-year of 1839 had brought Patteson into the Remove, that large division of the school inter- mediate bctwe(;n the fourth and fifth forms. The work was harder, and his diligence somewhat relaxed. In fact, the Coley of this period and of a good while later had more lioart for play than work. Cricket, bathing, 1839.] I'*^ i'^^ Remove 25 and boating were his delight ; and though his school work was conscientiously accomplished, it did not interest him ; and when he imagined himself to have been working hard and well, it was a thunderbolt to him to find, at the end of the half year, that a great deal more had been expected of him by his tutor. It shows how candid and sw^eet his nature was, that just as when he was a little fellow at Ottery, his penitent letter should contain the rebuke he had received, without re- sentment against anyone but himself. ' Aunt has just called me down into the drawing-room and shown me my character. I am stupified at it ; it is so shocking just when I most wanted a good one on account of mamma's health. I am ashamed to say that I can offer not the slightest excuse ; my conduct on this occasion has been very bad. I expect a severe reproof from you, and pray do not send me any money, nor grant me the slightest [favour ?]. Whilst . . ., who has very little ability (uncle says), is, by plodding on, getting credit, I, who (my tutor says) have abilities, am wickedly neglecting and offending both my heavenly and earthly Father by my bad use of them. Aunt called me into the drawing-room, and very kindly showed me the exces- sive foolishness of my conduct ; but from this very moment I am determined that I will not lose a mo- ment, and we will see what the next three weeks will produce.' Poor little fellow, his language is so strong that it is almost a surprise to find that he was reproaching him- self for no more heinous fault than not having worked up to the full extent of his powers ! He kept his promise of diligence, and never again incurred ref)roof, but was sent up for good again in November. His 26 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. II. career through the school was above the average, though not attaining to what was expected from his capabiHties ; but the development of his nature was slow, and therefore perhaps ultimately the more com- plete, and as yet study for its own sake did not interest him : indeed his mind was singularly devoid of pleasure in classical subjects, though so alert in other directions. He was growing into the regular tastes of the refined, fastidious Eton boy ; wrote of the cut of his first tail coat that ' this is really an important thing ;' and had grow^n choice in the adorning of his room and the bind- ing of his books, though he never let these tastes bring him into debt or extravagance. His turn for art and music began to show themselves, and the anthems at St. George's Chapel on the Sunday afternoons gave him great delight, and in Eton Chapel, a contemporary says, ' I well remember how he used to sine the Psalms with the little turns at the end of the verses, which I envied his being able to do.' Nor was this mere love of music, but devotion. Coley had daily regular readings of the Bible in his room with his brother, cousins, and a friend or two ; but the boys were so shy about it that they kept an open Shakespeare on the table with an open drawer below, in which the Bible was placed, and which was shut at the sound of a hand on the door. Hitherto No. 33 Bedford Square had been the only home of the Patteson family. The long vacations were spent sometimes with the Judge's relations in the Eastern counties, som(;times with Lady Patteson's in the West. Sandwith Rectory, in Cornwall, was the home of her eldest brother. Dr. James Coleridge, whose daughter Sophia was always like an elder sister to her children ; and the Vicarage; of St. Mary Church, then a wild, jjeautiful seaside village, though now almost a suljurb of Torquay, was held by her cousin, George May 1S41.] Fenitoji Court 27 Coleridge, and here the brothers and sisters cHmbed the rocks, boated, fished, and ran exquisitely wild in the summer holidays. Colonel Coleridge had died in 1836, his widow in her daughter's house in 1838, and Heath's Court had become the property of Mr. Justice Coleridge, who always came thither with his family as soon as the circuit was over. In 1841, Feniton Court, about two miles and a half from thence, was purchased by Judge Patteson, much to the delight of his children. It was a roomy, cheerful, pleasantly situated house, with apiece of water in the grounds, the right of shoot- ing over a couple of farms, and all that could render boy life happy, besides being in the midst of near rela- tions, since (besides those already mentioned) a house had been built at Salveston, near at hand, by Dr. William Coleridge, first Bishop of Barbadoes and first Warden of St. Augustine's,^ and Edwin Coleridge, another cousin, held the neighbouring living of Buckerell. Feniton was a thorough home, and already Coley's vision was ' When I am vicar of Feniton, which I look forward to, but with a very distant hope, I should of all things like Fanny to keep house for me till I am married ;' and again when relating some joke with his cousins about the law papers of the Squire of Feniton he adds : ' But the Squire of Feniton will be a clergyman.' Whether this were jest or earnest, this year, 1841, brought the dawn of his future life. It was in that year that the Rev. George Augustus Selwyn was appointed to the diocese of New Zealand. Mrs. Selwyn's parents had always been intimate with the Patteson family, and the curacy which Mr. Selwyn had ^ Son of Dr. Luke Coleridge, one of the thirteen children of John, the schoolmaster. 2 8 Life of John Coleridge Patfeson [ch. II. held up to this time was at Windsor, so that the old Etonian tie of brotherhood was drawn closer by daily intercourse. Indeed it was from the first understood that Eton, with the wealth that her children enjoyed in such large measure, should furnish ' nerves and sinews' to the war which her son was about to wage with the darkness of heathenism, thus turning the minds of the boys to something beyond either their studies or their sports. On October 31, the Rev. Samuel Wilberforce, then Archdeacon of Surrey, and since Bishop of Oxford and of Winchester, preached in the morning at New Windsor parish church, and the newly made Bishop of New Zealand in the afternoon. Coley was far more affected than he then had power to express. He says, ' I heard Archdeacon Wilberforce in the morn- ing, and the Bishop in the evening, though I was forced to stand all the time. It was beautiful when he talked of his going out to found a church and then to die neglected and forgotten. All the people burst out crying, he was so very much beloved by his parishioners. He spoke of his perils, and putting his trust in God ; and then, when he had finished, I think I never heard anything like the sensation, a kind of feeling that if it had not been on so sacred a spot, all would have ex- claimed " God bless him ! " ' The text of this memorable sermon was ' Thine heart shall be enlarged, because the abundance of the sea shall be converted unto thee, the forces also of the Gentiles shall come unto thee.' (Is. Ix. 5.) Many years later we shall find a reference to this, the watch- word of the young hearer's life. The Archdeacon's sermon was from John xvii. 20, 21 : — ' Neither pray I for theses alone, but for them also which shall believe on Me tJirough their word ; that they all may be One, as Thou, Father, art in Me, and I 1 84 1 .] FareivelL of Bishop Selwyn 2 9 in Thee, that they also may be One in Us ; that the world may believe that Thou hast sent Me.' And here again we find one of the watchwords of Coley's life, for nothing- so dwelt with him and so sustained him as the sense of unity, whether with these at home in England, or with those in the inner home of the Saints. When the sermon concluded with the words ' As we are giving of our best, as our Church is giving of her best, in sending forth from her own bosom these her cherished and chosen sons, so let there go forth from every one of us a consenting offering ; let us give this day largely, in a spirit of self-sacrifice, as Christian men, to Christ our Lord, and he will graciously accept and bless the offerings that we make.' The preacher could little guess that among the lads who stood in the aisle was one in whom was forming the purpose of offering his very self also. For at that time Coleridge Patteson was receiving impressions that became the seed of his future purpose, and the eyes of his spirit were seeing greater things than the Vicarage of Feniton, Indeed the subject was not entirely new to him, for Edward Coleridge was always deeply interested in missions, and had done his best to spread the like feeling, often employing the willing services of his pupils in copying letters from Australia, Newfoundland, &c. When the Bishop of New Zealand came to take leave, he said half in earnest, half in playfulness, ' Lady Patteson, will you give me Coley ? ' She started, but did not say no ; and when, independ- ently of this, her son told her that it was his greatest wish to go with the Bishop, she replied that if he kept that wish when he grew up he should have her blessing and consent. But there was no further mention of the subject. 30 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteson [Ch. 1 1. The sisters knew what had passed, but it was not spoken of to his father till long after, when the wish had become purpose. Meantime the boy's natural development put these visions into the background. He was going on with ordinary work and play, enjoying the pageantry of the christening of the Prince of Wales, and cheering himself hoarse and half frantic when the King of Prussia came to see the school ; then on his father's birthday writing with a ' hand quite trembling with delight' to announce what he knew would be the most welcome of birthday presents, namely, the news that he had been ' sent up ' for a very good copy of seventy-nine verses, ' all longs, on Napoleon e S cy t Ida prof ttgiLS, passage of Beresina, and so forth.' His Latin verses were his strong point, and from this time forward he was frequently sent up, in all twenty-five times, an almost unprecedented number. In fact he was entering on a fresh 'stage of life, from the little boy to the lad, and the period was marked by his Confirmation on May 26th, 1842. Here is his account both of it and of his first Communion. The soberness and old-fashioned simplicity of expression are worth remarking as tokens of the quietly dutiful tone of mind, full of reverence and sincere desire to do right, and resting in the consciousness of that desire, while steadily advancing towards higher things than he then understood. It was a life and character where advancement with each fresh imparting of spiritual grace can be traced more easily than usual. It is observable too that the boy's own earnestness and seriousness of mind seem to have to him supplied the apparent lack of external aids to devotional feeling, thougli tlie Coiifirmalion was conducted in the brief, formal, wholesale manner which some in after life have 184.2.] Conjirmaliou 31 confessed to have been a disappointment and a draw- back after their preparation and anticipation. * You will know that I have been confirmed to-day, and I dare say you all thought of me. The ceremony was performed by the Bishop of Lincoln, and I hope that I have truly considered the great duty and responsibility I have taken upon myself, and have prayed for strength to support me in the execution of all those duties. I shall of course receive the Sacrament the first time I have an opportunity, and I trust worthily. I think there must have been 200 confirmed. The Bishop gave us a very good charge afterwards, recommending us all to take pattern by the self-denial and true devotion of the Bishop of New Zealand, on whom he spoke for a long while. The whole ceremony was performed with the greatest decorum, and in the retiring and coming up of the different sets there was very little noise, and not the slightest confusion, I went up with the first set, and the Bishop came round and put his hands on the heads of the whole set (about forty), and then going into the middle pronounced the prayer. The responses were all made very audibly, and every one seemed to be impressed with a proper feeling of the holiness and seriousness of the ceremony. After all the boys had been confirmed about seven other people were confirmed, of whom two were quite as much as thirty, I should think.' June 5. * I have just returned from receiving the Holy Sacra- ment in Chapel. I received it from Hawtrey and Okes, but there were three other ministers besides. There was a large attendance, seventy or eighty or 32 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. il. more Eton boys alone. I used the little book^ that mamma sent me, and found the little directions and observations very useful. I do truly hope and believe that I received it worthily ... It struck me more than ever (although I had often read it before) as being such a particularly impressive and beautiful service. I never saw anything conducted with greater decorum. Not a single fellow spoke except at the responses, which were well and audibly made, and really every fellow seemed to be really impressed with the awfulness of the ceremony, and the great wickedness of not piously receiving it. I do not know whether there will be another Sacra- ment here before the holidays, or whether I shall receive it with you at Feniton next time.' No doubt the whole family (except the yet uncon- firmed younger brother) did so receive it in the summer holidays, the last that were to be spent in the full joy of an unbroken household circle, and, as has been already said, one of unusual warmth and kindli- ness, binding closely into it all who were connected therewith. Each governess became a dear friend ; the servants were deeply attached, and for the most part fixtures ; and one, the nurse already mentioned, says she never recollects a time when Master Coley had to leave Feniton for London without his offering the servants to take charire of their messages or parcels. All dependants and poor people, in fact whatever came under Judge Patteson's genial, broad- hearted influence, were treated with the like kindness, and everything alive about" the place seemed full of haj)piness and affection. The centre of this Ijright home had always been ' I'p. Wilson. 1842.] Death of Lady Pattesoji '\,'}y the mother, fervently loved by all who came in contact with her, fragile in health, and only going through her duties and exertions so cheerily by the quiet fortitude of a brave woman. In the course of this year, 1842, some severe spasmodic attacks made her family anxious, and as the railway communication was still incomplete, so that the journey to London was a great fatigue to an invalid, her desire to spend Christmas in Devonshire led to her remaininij there with her daughters, when her husband returned to London on the commencement of term. He had been gone little more than a fortnight when, on November 17th, a more severe attack came on, and though she was soon relieved from it, she never entirely rallied, and was firmly convinced that this was ' the beginning of the end.' Her husband was summoned home. Judge Coleridge taking a double portion of his work to set him at liberty, and the truth began to dawn on the poor boys at Eton. ' Do you really mean that there is anything so very, very dreadful to fear ? ' is Coley's cry in his note one day, and the next, * Oh Papa, you cannot mean that we may never, unless we come down to Feniton, see mamma again. I cannot bear the thought of it. I trust most earnestly that it is not the case. Do not hide anything from me, it would make me more wretched afterwards. If it shall (which I trust in His infinite mercy it will not) please Almighty God to take our dearest mamma unto Himself, may He give us grace to bear with fortitude and resolution the dreadful loss, and may we learn to live with such holiness here that we may hereafter be united for ever in Heaven.' This letter is marked twice over ' Only for Papa,' but the precaution was needless, for Lady Patteson was accustoming all those about her to speak, freely and I. D 34 Life of John Coleridge Patteso7t [Ch. il. naturally of what she felt to be approaching. Her eldest brother, Dr. Coleridge, was greatly comforting her by his ministrations, and her sons were sent for ; but as she did not ask for them, it was thought best that they should remain at their uncle Frank's, at Ottery, until, on the evening of Sunday the 27th, a great change took place, making it evident that the end was drawing near. The sufferer was told that the boys were come, and was asked if she would see them. She was delighted, and they came in, restraining their grief while she kissed and blessed them, and then, throwing her arms round their father, thanked him for having brought her darling boys for her to see once more. It was not long before she became unconscious, and though all the family were watching and praying round her, she showed no further sign of recognition, as she gradually and tranquilly fell asleep in the course of the night. Here is a letter from Dr. Coleridge,, written immedi- ately after her death : — ' I have been in the ministry thirty years, and have interested myself peculiarly in scenes of sickness and death, and have had of course in large parishes no slight experience in the same ; but I never ivitnessed, taking all circumstances into consideration, such a scene as I have since I came here on Wednesday the 23rd. Truly I came to see a Christian die : to learn, not to teach, to gather such sources for enduring medita- tion, and improvement of heart and life, as, if they minister not to the building up of my faith and the spiritual house of God within my soul, must dread- fully aggravate my condemnation. We have had a precious privileges While I write, I feel it to be so, (may I always practically feel it ! ) l^ut we have all had a most awful responsibility imposed on us too, (may we never forget it ! ) For my dear sweet sister, blessed 1842.] The Funeral 35 saint of God ! there must be a desire for thee and thy pious example as long as we live ! But neither can he whom she chiefly loved with her dear children, nor we of her sorrowing family, when we go, and see where they have laid her, sorrow as without hope, for of her may it be said indeed, with all the point of personal application : Sorrow not, brethren, for them that are asleep, even as others which have no hope, for if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him.' It was to this uncle's eldest daughter, now Mrs. Martyn, that Coley wrote the following letter just after the funeral : — ' We only came down from our rooms to go to church, and directly the beautiful service was over, we went upstairs again. I need not tell you what we then felt, and do now feel. It is a very dreadful loss to us all ; but we have been taught by that dear mother, who has been now taken from us, that it is not fit to grieve for those who die in the Lord, " for they rest from their labours." She is now, we may safely trust, a blessed saint in Heaven, far removed from all cares and anxieties ; and, instead of spending our time in useless tears and wicked repinings, we should rather learn to imitate her example and virtues, that, when we die, we may sleep in Him as our hope is this our sister doth, and may be finally united with her in heaven. Yesterday was a day of great trial to us all ; I felt when I was standing by the grave as if I must have burst. ' Dear Papa bears up beautifully, and is a pattern of submission to us all. We are much more happy than you could suppose, for, thank God, we are D 2 2,6 Life of Jolm ColeiHdge Patteson [Ch. ii. certain she is happy, far happier than she could be on earth. She said once " I wonder I wish to leave my dearest John and the children, and this sweet place, bttt yet I do wish it',' so lively was her faith and trust in the merits of her Saviour.' A deep and permanent impression was left upon the boy's mind, as will be seen by his frequenf references to what he had then witnessed ; but for the present he was thought to be less depressed than the others, and recovered his natural tone of spirits sooner than his brother and sisters. The whole family spent their mourn- ful Christmas at Thorverton Rectory, with Dr. and Mrs. Coleridge and their daughter Fanny, their chief comforters and fellow sufferers ; and then returned to London. The Judge's eldest daughter, Joanna, who had always been entirely one with the rest, had to take her place at the head of the household. In her own words, ' It was trying for a lad of fifteen and a half, but he was very good, and allowed me to take the com- mand in a way that few boys would have done.' It has struck me as remarkable that friends and rela- tions have again and again spoken of different incidents as * turning points ' in Coley's life. If he had literally turned at them all, his would have been a most revolv- ing career; but I believe the fact to have been that he never Ucrned at all, for his face was always set the right way, but that each of these was a point of impulse setting him more vigorously on his way, and stirring up his faithful will. Such moments were those of admis- sion to religious ordinances, to him no dead letters but true receptions of grace ; and he likewise found incite- ments in sorrows, in failures, in reproofs, Everythino- sank deeply, and his mind was already assuming the introspective character that it had throughout the period of growth and formation. One of his Eton companions, 1 843-] Going Up for the Newcastle 37 four years young-er, has since spoken of the remarkable impression oi imvardness Patteson made on him even at this time, saying that whenever he was taken by surprise he seemed to be inly ruminating till he spoke or was spoken to, and then there was an instant return to the outer world and ready attention to whatever was in hand. The spring found him of course in the full tide of Eton interests. The sixth and upper fifth forms, to the latter of which he had by this time attained, may con- tend in the public examination for the Newcastle scholarship, just before the Easter holidays, and it is a great testimony to a boy's ability and industry if his name appears among the nine select for their excellence. This time, 1843, Coley, who was scarcely sixteen, had of course but little chance, but he had the pleasure of announcing that his great friend, Edmund Bastard, a young Devonshire squire, w^as among the ' select,' and he says of himself : ' You will, as I said before, feel satis- fied that I did my best, but it was an unlucky examina- tion for me. It has done me a great deal of good in one way. It has enabled me to see where I am par- ticularly deficient, viz. general knowledge of history, and a thorough acquaintance with Greek and Roman customs, law courts and expressions, and Greek and Roman writers. I do not find myself wanting in making out a stiff bit of Greek or Latin if I have time, but I must read History chiefly this year, and then I hope to be selected next time. My tutor is not at all disappointed in me.' This spring, 1843, Patteson became one of the Eleven, a perilously engrossing position for one who, though never slurring nor neglecting his studies, did not enjoy anything so much as the cricket-field. However, there the weight of his character, backed by his popularity and proficiency in all games and exercises, began to be a telling influence. 38 Life of yoJui Coleridge Patteso?i [Ch. ll. On November 2, 1843, when the anniversary of his mother's death was coming round, he writes to his eldest sister : — ' I had not indeed forgotten this time twelvemonth, and especially that awful Sunday night when we stood round dear mamma's bed in such misery, I never supposed at that time that we could ever be happy and merry again, but yet it has been so with me, and though very often the recollection of that night has come upon me, and the whole scene in its misery has passed before me, I hope I have never forgotten, that though a loss to us, it was a gain to her, and we ought rather to be thankful than sorrowful. . . . By the bye, I do not really want a book-case much, and you gave me the " Irish Stories," and I have not yet been sent up. I would rather not have a present, unless the Doctor means to give me an exercise. Do not lay this down to pride ; but you know I was not sent up last half, and if this passes, a blank again, I do not deserve any fresh presents.' This piece of self-discipline was crowned by joyous notices of being ' sent up for good ' and * for play ' in the next half; when also occurs a letter showing a spirit of submission to a restriction not fully under- stood : — Tuesday evening. ' My dearest Father, — Hearing that " Israel in Egypt " was to be performed at Exeter Hall on Friday night, I went and asked my tutor whether he had any objection to my running up that night to hear it, and coming back the next morning, quite early at six. My tutor said that, witliout any absurd feelings on the matter, he sliould not think himself of going to such a thing in Lent. " It was not," he said, " cer- tiiinly like going to the play, or any of those sort of 1844.] ^-^^ Debating Society 39 places," but he did not like the idea of going at all. Do you think that there was any harm in the wish ? I do not ask because I wish you to write and say I may go, but because I wish to learn whether my asking at all was wrong. Even if you have no objection, I certainly shall not go, because for such a trifling thing to act in opposition to my tutor, even with your consent, would be very foolish. . . . Good-bye, my dearest Father. God bless you, says your affectionate and dutiful Son, J. C. P.' This year, 1844, the name of Patteson appeared among the ' select' ' I shall expect a jolly holidays for my reward,' he merrily says, when announcing it to his sisters. He had begun to join the Debating Society at Eton, and for a while was the president. One of the other members says, ' his speeches were singularly free from the bombast and incongruous matter with which Eton orators from fifteen to eiofhteen are apt to interlard their declamations. He spoke concisely, always to the point, and with great fluency and readiness. A reputation for good sense and judgment made his authority of great weight in the school, and his independent spirit led him to choose amongst his most intimate friends and associates, two collegers, who ultimately became Newcastle scholars and medallists. ' That the most popular oppidan of his day should have utterly ignored the supposed inferiority of the less wealthy section of the school, and looked on worth and high character as none the worse for being clothed in a coarse serge gown, is a fact seemingly trivial to ordinary readers, but very noticeable to Eton men. As a rank and file collegian myself, and well remem- 40 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteson [Ch. il. bering the Jew and Samaritan state that prevailed be- tween oppidans and collegers, I remember with pride that Patteson did so much to level the distinctions that worked so mischievously to the school. His cheerfulness and goodness were the surest guarantee for good order amongst his school-fellows. There was no Puritanism in him, he was up to any fun, sung his song at a cricket or foot-ball dinner as joyfully as the youngest of the party, but if mirth sank into coarse- ness and ribaldry, that instant Patteson's conduct was fearless and uncompromising.' . . . Here follows an account of an incident which oc- curred at the dinner annually given by the eleven of cricket and the eight of the boats at the hotel at Slough. A custom had arisen among some of the boys of singing offensive songs on these occasions, and Coley, who as second of the eleven, stood in the position of one of the entertainers, gave notice beforehand that he was not going to tolerate anything of the sort. One of the boys, however, began to sing something ob- jectionable. Coley called out, ' If that does not stop, I shall leave the room,' and as no notice was taken, he actually went away with a few other brave lads. He afterwards found that, as he said, * fellows who could not understand such feelings thought him affected,' and he felt himself obliged to send word to the Cap- tain, that unless an apology was made, he should leave the eleven— no small sacrifice, considerinQf what cricket was to him ; but the gentlemanlike and proper feeling of the better style of boys prevailed, and the eleven knew their^own interests too well to part with him, so the apology was made, and he retained his position. The affair came to the knowledge of two of the masters, Mr. I)iipuis and Mr. Abraham; and they 1844.] '^^^(^ Cricket Field 41 gratified their warm sense of approbation by giving Patteson a bat, though he never knew the reason why, as we shall see in one of his last letters to one of the donors. His prowess at cricket must be described in the words of his cousin, Arthur Duke Coleridge, who was at this time in college. ' He was by common consent one of the best, if not the best, of the cricketers of the school. The second year of his appearance at Lord's Cricket Ground was the most memorable as far as his actual services were concerned, of all the matches he played against Harrow and Winchester. He was sent in first in the Harrow match ; the bowl- ing was steady and straight, but Patteson's defence was admirable. He scored fifty runs, in which there was but one four, and by steady play completely broke the neck of the bowling. Eton won the match easily, Patteson making a brilliant catch at point, when the last Harrow man retired. Full of confidence, Eton began the Winchester match. Victory for a long time seemed a certainty for Eton, but Ridding, the Winchester captain, played an uphill game so fiercely that the bowling had to be repeatedly changed. Our eleven were disorganised, and the Captain had so plainly lost heart, that Patteson resolved on uro;inor him to discontinue his change of bowling, and begin afresh with the regular bowlers. The Captain allowed Patteson to have his way, and the game, though closely contested, was saved.' His powers of defence were indeed remarkable. I saw the famous professional cricketer Lillywhite play once at Eton in his time, and becom- ing almost irritated at the stubbornness and tenacity with which Coley held his wicket. After scoring twenty and odd times in the first, and forty in the 42 Life of yohu Coleridge Pattcson [Ch. II. second innings, (not out), Lillywhite said, ' Mr. Patteson, I should like to bowl to you on Lord's ground, and it would be different.' ' Oh, of course,' modestly answered Coley ; ' I know you would have me out directly there.' The next cricket season this champion was disabled by a severe sprain of the wrist, needing leeches, splints, and London advice. It was when fixing a day for coming up to town on this account, that he mentioned the occurrence of the previous year in a letter to his father. ' I have a great object in shirking the oppidan dinner. I not only hate the idea of paying a sovereign for a dinner, but last year, at the cricket dinner, I had a great row, which I might possibly incur another time, and I wish very much to avoid.' Then, after briefly stating what had passed, he adds : * At this dinner, where the captain of the boats manages it, I should be his guest, and therefore, any similar act of mine would make matters worse. You can- therefore see why I wish Tuesday to be the day for my coming up.' The sprain prevented his playing in the matches at Lord's that summer, though he was well enough to be reckoned on as a substitute in case any of the actual players had been disabled. Possibly his accident was good for his studies, for this was a year of much pro- gress and success ; and though only seventeen, he had two offers of tutorship for the holidays, from Mr. Dug- dale and the Marchioness of 15ath. The question where his university life was to be spent began to come forward. Studentships at Christchurch were then in the gift f)f the Canons, and a nomination would have been given him by Dr. Puscy if he had not been 1844.] ^/^^ DiLkc of Wellington 43 too young to begin to reside, so that it was thought better that he should wait and go up for the BaUiol scholarship in the autumn. Here is a note to his father before the summer holidays, with a view to the question whether he should carry a gun : — ' As to what you say about my having a licence this year, I think that it would be mioch better for you to settle about it, as you did a year or two ago. Then you seemed to think tha't it was a bad thing for me to acquire a passion for a pursuit which I should give up when ordained. To that I certainly keep, viz., that I would by no means keep it up after I had taken my degree. But I think I could decide better when I talk it over with you, besides, (which I had almost forgot) the Balliol scholarship comes on in Novem- ber, and taking out the licence would rather put a stop to my sapping. My thoughts were, you see, running on cricket.' No one remembers how the question was then decided. Coley did shoot, and enjoyed it much ; but before very long he ceased to carry a gun, though he often accompanied his father and brother, and took keen delight in their success. In the October of 1844, he describes to his eldest sister the reception of King Louis Philippe at Eton, accompanied by the Queen, Prince Albert, and the Duke of Wellington. * The King wore a white great coat, and looked a regular jolly old fellow. He has white frizzled hair and large white whiskers. The former, I suspect, is a wig. The cheering was tremendous, but behind the royal carriage, the cheers were always redoubled where the old Duke, the especial favourite hero, rode. When they got off their horses in the school- yard, the Duke being by some mistake behindhand. 44 Life of Jo hn Coleridge Patteson [Ch. ii. was regularly hustled in the crowd, with no attend- ant near him. * I was the first to perceive him, and springing forward, pushed back the fellows on each side, who did not know whom they were tumbling against, and, taking off my hat, cheered with might and main. The crowd hearing the cheer, turned round, and then there was the most olorious siofht I ever saw. The whole school encircled the Duke, who stood entirely alone in the middle for a minute or two, and I rathe?'- think we did c\\&er him. At last, giving about one touch to his hat, he began to move on, saying ' Get on, boys, get on.' I never saw such enthusiasm here; the masters rushed into the crowd round him, waving their caps, and shouting like any of us. As for myself, I was half mad and roared myself hoarse in about five minutes. The King and Prince kept their hats off the whole time, incessantly bowing, and the King speaking. He walked arm-in-arm with the Queen, who looked well and very much pleased. The Duke walked with that Grand Duchess whose name you may see in the papers, for I can't spell it.' Very characteristic this both of Eton's enthusiasm for the hero, and of the hero's undemonstrative way of receiving it, which must have somewhat surprised his foreign companions. A week or two later, in November 1844, came the competition for the Pjalliol scholarship, but Coley was not successful. On the Saturday he writes : — ' The scholarship was decided last night ; Smith, a Rugby man, got the first, and Grant, a Harrow man, the second. ... I saw tlie Master afterwards, he said, " I cannot congratulate you on success, Mr. Patteson, but you have done yourself great credit, and passed a very respectable examination. I shall 1845.] Failure 45 be happy to allow you to enter without a future examination, as we are all quite satisfied of your competency." He said that I had better come up to matriculate next term, but should not have another examination. We were in about nine hours a day, three hours in the evening ; I thought the papers very hard, we had no Latin elegiacs or lyrics, which was rather a bore for the Eton lot. I am very glad I have been up noiv, but I confess it was the longest week I ever recollect. I feel quite seedy after a whole week without exercise. . . The very first paper, the Latin Essay (for which we were in six hours) was the worst of all my papers, and must have given the examiners an unfavourable impres- sion to start with. The rest of my papers, with the exception of the Greek prose and the critical paper, I did very fairly, I think.' A greater disappointment than this was, however, in store for Coley. He failed in attaining a place among the ' select,' at his last examination for the Newcastle, in the spring of 1845. Before the list was given out, he had written to his father that the Divinity papers were far too easy, with no opportunity for a pretty good scholar to show his knowledge, ' the ridicule of every one of the masters,' but the other papers very difficult. * Altogether,' he adds, ' the scholarship has been to me unsatisfactory. I had worked hard at Greek prose, had translated and retranslated a good deal of Xeno- phon, Plato, and some Demosthenes, yet to my disappointment we had no paper of Greek prose, a thing that I believe never occurred before, and which is generally believed to test a boy's knowledge well. My Iambics were good, I expect, though not without two bad faults. In fact, I cannot look back ui:)on a 46 Life of JoJuL Coleridge Patteson [ch. ii. single paper, except my Latin prose, without a multi- tude of oversights and faults presenting themselves to me. . . I almost dread the Sfivine out of the select. Think if my name was not there. It is some con- solation that Hawtrey, yesterday, in giving me an exercise for good, asked how I liked the examination. Upon my saying ' It was not such a one as I ex- pected, and that I had done badly,' he said * That is not at all what I hear,' but this cannot go for much. ... I want exercise very badly, and my head is very thick and stupid, as I fear this last paper must show the examiners.' The omission of Patteson's name from among the select was a great mortification, not only to himself, but his father, though the Judge kindly wrote : — * Do not distress yourself about this unfortunate failure as to the Newcastle, We cannot always command our best exertions when we want to do so, and you were not able on this occasion to bring forward all you knew. It was not from idleness or want of atten- tion to school business. Work on regularly, and you will do well at Oxford. I have a line from your tutor, who seems to think that it was in Juvenal, Cicero, and Livy, and in Iambics, that the faults principally were. I cannot say that I am not disappointed, but I know so well the uncertainty of examinations and how much depends on the sort of papers put, and on the spirits and feeling one is in, that I am never sur- prised at such results, and I do not blame you at all.' Those who knew Coley best agree in thinking that this reverse took great effect in rousing his energies. This failure evidently made him take himself to task, for ill the sunnner he writes to his father : — ' There an: tilings which have occured during my stay at iU(jn whicli cannot but make me blame myself. 1845.] Lcavijig Eton 47 I mean principally a want of continuous industry. I have perhaps for one half or two (for instance, last Easter half) worked hard, but I have not been con- tinuously improving", and adding knowledge to know- ledge, half by half. I feel it now, because I am sure that I know very little more than I did at Easter. One thing I am improved in, which is writing themes ; and you will be pleased to know that Hawtrey has again given me the School Theme prize, worth 5/. which counts for another sent up exercise.' Referring to some discontents with his tutor's management of his pupils, which had been expressed by some of the parents, he gives this generous and grateful testimony : — ' My tutor's system of private business — -viz., giving you sometimes papers to answer in writing, and at other times recommending books and papers of his own to be read, is so calculated to act according to the pupils' individual application and industry, that while it more advances the diligent, it presses more lightly on the idle, that no blame can be attached to him for an individual failure in any one instance. ' I speak more warmly now, because, thinking over my past life here, I see that if I had worked out all the plans my tutor has given me, worked up all his papers, and cared more about my school business and attention to little things, I should have had less cause to leave Eton with feelings partly (though I thank God not wholly) of self-condemnation. I owe so much to my tutor, and feel so grateful to him, that I cannot help saying this.' In reply, the Judge, on July 22, wrote in the midst of the circuit, from Stafford, a letter that might well do a son's heart o-ood : — 48 Life of Jolm Coleridge Pattcsou [Ch. 1 1. * I rejoice in your finale, and shall be glad to see the exercise. You have gone through Eton with great credit and reputation as a scholar, and what is of more consequence, with perfect character as to truth and conduct in every way. This can only be ac- counted for by the assistance of the good Spirit of God first stirred up in you by the instructions of your dear mother, than whom a more excellent human being never existed. I pray God that this assistance may continue through life, and keep you always in the same good course.' A few days more and the boy's departure from the enthusiastically loved school had taken place, to- gether with his final exploits as captain in the cricket-field, where too he formed an acquaintance with Mr. C. S. Roundell, the captain of the Harrow eleven, which ripened into a lifelong friendship. ' You may suppose,' writes Coley, ' that I was really very miserable at leaving Eton. I did not, I assure you, without thanking God for the many advantages I have there enjoyed and praying for His forgiveness for my sin in neglecting so many. We began our match with Harrow yesterday, by going in first ; we got 261 runs by tremendous hitting, Harrow 32, and followed up and got 55 : Eton thus winning in one innings by 176 runs, the most decided beating ever known at cricket. So ended Coleridge Patteson's school life, not reach- ing to all he saw that it might have been ; but unstained, noble, happy, honourable, and full of excellent training for the future man. No sting was left to poison the fair memory of youth ; but many a friendship had been formed on foundations of esteem, sympathy and kind- ness wliicli endured llirough life, standing all tests of separation and difference. 49 CHAPTER III. VNDERGRADUATE LIFE AT BALLIOL AND JOURNEYS ON THE CONTINENT 1845-1852 University life is apt to exert a strong influence upon a man's career. It comes at the age at which there is probably the most susceptibility to new impressions. The physical growth is over, and the almost exclusive craving for exercise and sport is lessening ; there is more voluntary inclination to intellectual application, and the mind begins to get fair play. There is also a certain liberty of choice as to the course to be taken and the persons who shall become guides, and this renders the pupillage a more willing and congenial connection than that of the schoolboy ; nor is there so wide a distance in age and habits between tutor and pupil as between master and scholar. Thus it is that there are few more influential persons in the country than leading University men, for the im- press they leave is on the flower of English youth, at the very time of life when thought has come, but action is not yet required. At the same time the whole genius loci, the venerable buildings with their tradi- tions, the eminence secured by intellect and industry, the pride that is taken in the past and its great men, first as belonging to the University and next to the in- dividual college, all give the members thereof a sense I. E 50 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteson [Ch. lii. of a dignity to keep up and of honour to maintain, and a certainty of appreciation and fellow feeling from the society with which they are connected. The Oxford of Patteson's day was as yet untouched by the hand of reformation. The Colleges were follow- ing or eluding the statutes of their founders, according to the use that had sprung up, but there had been a great quickening into activity of intellect, and the reli- ofious influences were almost at their strongfest. It was true that the master mind had been lost to the Church of England, but the men whom he and his companions had helped to form were the leaders among the tutors, and the youths who were growing up under them were forming plans of life, which many have nobly carried out, of unselfish duty and devotion in their several stations. Balliol had, under the mastership of Dr. Jenkyns, attained pre-eminence for success in the schools, and for the high standard required of its members, who formed ' the most delightful society, the very focus of the most stimulating life of the University,' within those unpretending walls, not yet revivified and en- larged. Here Coleridge Patteson came to reside in the Michaelmas term of 1845 ; beginning with another attempt for the scholarship, in which he was again un- successful, being bracketed immediately after the fourth with another Etonian, namely, Mr. Hornby, the future head-master. His friend, Edmund Bastard, several of his relations, and numerous friends had preceded him ; and he wrote to his sister Fanny : — ' You cannot tliink wliat a nice set of acquaintance I am gradually slipping into. Palmer and myself take regular fain i liar walks ; and Riddell, another fellow who is the pet of the College, came up the other 1845.] First Term at Balliol 5^ evening and sat with me, and I breakfast with them, and dine, &c. The only inconvenience attaching itself to such a number of men is, that I have to give several parties, and as I meant to get them over before Lent, I have been coming out rather strong in that line lately, as the pastrycook's bill for desserts will show in good time. ' I have been asked to play cricket in the Univer- sity eleven, and have declined, though not without a little struggle, but cricket here, especially to play in such matches as against Cambridge, &c., entails almost necessarily idleness and expense.' The struggle was hardly a little one to a youth whose fame in the cricket field stood so high, and who was never happy or healthy without strong bodily exercise. Nor had he outgrown his taste for this particular sport. Professor Edwin Palmer (alluded to above) describes him as at this time ' a thorough public schoolboy, with a full capacity for enjoying under- graduate society and undergraduate amusements, though with so fond a recollection of Eton that to some of us he hardly seemed to appreciate Oxford sufh- ciently.' Again, Mr. Roundell (his late adversary at Lord's), says, ' He was a reluctant and half interested sojourner, was ever looking back to the playing fields of Eton, or forward to the more congenial sphere of a country parish.' So that it was his prime pleasure and glory that he thus denied himself, though not with total ab- stinence, for he played occasionally. I remember hear- ing of a match at Ottery, where he was one of an eleven of Coleridge kith and kin against the rest of Devon. His reputation in the field was such that, many years later, when he chanced to be at Melbourne E 2 52 Life of yohti Coleridge Patteson. [Ch. hi. at the same time with the champion EngHsh eleven, one of the most noted professional cricketers, meeting him in the street, addressed him confidentially, ' I know, sir, the Bishop of Melbourne does not approve of cricket for clergymen in public, but if you would meet me in private at live o'clock to-morrow morning, and let me give you a few balls, it would be a great satisfaction ! ' Some resolution thus was required to prevent cricket from becoming a tyrant as so often befalls those whose skill renders them valuable. Tennis became Coley's chief recreation, enabling him to work off his superfluous energy at the expense of far less time than cricket matches require, and in this, as in everything active, he soon excelled. As to the desserts upon which the young men in turn were spending a good deal out of mere custom, harm- lessly enough, but unnecessarily ; as soon as the distress of the potato famine in Ireland became known, Patteson said, ' I am not at all for giving up these pleasant meetings, but why not give up the dessert ? ' So the agreement was made that the cost should for the present be made over to the ' Irish fund.' Another friend of this period now well known as Principal Shairp of St. Andrews', was then in the last year of a five years' residence. He has been kind enough to favour me with the following effective sketch of Coley as an undergraduate : — ' Patteson, as he was at Oxford, comes back to me, as the n-prcscntative of the very best kind of Etonian, with miicli good that he had got from Eton, with something better, not to be got at Eton or any other school. He had those pleasant manners and that perfect case in dealing with men and with the world which are the inheritance of I'.ton, without the least 1846.] Dr. Piiscys Scr7non on Absohition 53 tincture of worldliness. I remember well the look he then had, his countenance massive for one so young-, with good sense and good feeling, in fact, full of character. For it was character more than special ability which marked him out from others and made him, wherever he was, whether in cricket in which he excelled, or in graver things, a centre round which others gathered. The impression he left on me was of quiet gentle strength and entire purity, a heart that loved all things true and honest and pure, and that would always be found on the side of these. We did not know, probably he did not know him- self, the fire of devotion that lay within him, but that was soon to kindle and make him what he after- wards became.' In truth he was taking deep interest in the religious movement, though in the quiet unexcited way of those to whom such doctrines were only the filling out of the teachings of their childhood. He was present at that sermon on ' The Entire Absolution of the Penitent,' with which, on the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany, 1846, Dr. Pusey broke his enforced silence of three years. And surely to one who had in his infancy per- ceived that to hear the Absolution should be happi- ness, there was everything congenial in such words as these : — ' If any here feel the burden of past sin, some single heavier sin as a load upon his conscience, or some enduring evil habit, or a subtle ensnaring offence, again and again rising up against him and mastering him, or some hateful spell of past evil doing, which seems to leave his soul in darkness, and paralyse him as to all still more holy devoted purposes, it may be a blessed knowledge that others, like him, 54 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. ill. were once bound, and now have by God been loosed ; they, like him, were once burdened, and now their lightened hearts mount up in love and thankfulness ; they were once slaves of sin, now are the freedmen of God ; they once strove ineffectually, struggling for a while, yet ever in the end dragged captive, now they strive victoriously in the Peace, and Light, and Love of God.' The same evening Coley wrote to his sister Fanny : ' I have just returned from University sermon, where I have been listening with great delight to Pusey's sermon on the Keys for nearly two hours. His immense benevolence beams through the extreme power of his arguments, and the great research of his enquiry into all the primitive writings is a most extraordinary matter, and as for the humility and prayerful spirit in which it was composed, you fancied he must have been on his knees the whole time he was writing it. I went early to Christ Church, where it was preached, and, after pushing through such a crowd as usually blocks up the entrance into Exeter Hall, I found on getting into the Cathedral that every seat was occupied. How- ever, standing to hear such a man was no great exertion, and I never was so interested before. It will probably be printed, so that you will have no occasion for any remarks of mine. It is sufficient that he preached the doctrine to my mind in an invincil:)le manner.' The letter has a postscript — ' l^^aster vacation will be from three weeks to a month. Hurrah! say I ; now a precious deal more glad am I to leave Oxford for tlie holidays than ICton, tliougli I'^cnilon is better than cither.' Before that vacation came, a great sorrow, in the death of the Reverend Thomas Waddon Martyn, the 1846.] Death of Rev. T. W. Martyn 55 husband of his cousin, Sophia Coleridge. Hers had been the first wedding in that generation of cousins, and had excited proportionate interest and pleasure, and her little daughter Paulina had already become his darling and delight, though still a mere baby. Here is his reply to Dr. Coleridge's announcement of the death, which had taken place in his house : — My dear Uncle, — I was not prepared for the sad news which your letter announced to me this morning. I have been lately many times on the point of writing to dear Sophy, but I was afraid lest anything I should say should inadvertently cause her pain. Now, however, especially as Joanna has mentioned it to me, I could not restrain myself from letting dear Sophy know how my heart is with her and with you all. It was a very difficult thing for me to write such a letter as might express my sorrow for her without aggravating that which I wished, as far as I was able, to alleviate ; but if dear Sophy can derive the slightest consolation or least feeling of pleasure from my writing, I will most willingly try to show her that I only desire an opportunity of testifying my love for her. Her sorrows have indeed begun early, and to most people such a weight of affliction would be all but insupportable ; but God's grace will be sufficient for her, and He will give her strength to bear her great affliction. I send dear little Pena a book, which you must please give her with my best love. What an invaluable treasure the dear child must be now to dear Sophy ; and I pray earnestly, and do not doubt, that she will prove a blessing worthy of all her mother's undivided care and affection. I am so hard worked here, that in the midst of all the grief and trouble that I feel, I cannot abstract 56 Life of John Coleridge Pattcson [Ch. ill. myself entirely from my college business, which is now very tedious to me, and which I w^ould willingly avoid for a few days ; yet pray be assured that what work I must carry on, I perform with far different feelings, and that I am thinking of poor dearest Sophy and you all every minute. I am glad to hear that dearest aunt and Fanny are, for them, pretty well ! And you, my dear uncle, must not forget yourself, whose illness just now would so much increase the sorrow of all about you, but for their sakes be careful of yourself, and believe me, Your very affectionate Nephew, John Coleridge Patteson. P.S. I fear that I have not been successful in my choice of a book for Pena, yet after all, my chief object is to please dear Sophy through her child. I do not think they will meddle with Dr. Pusey. I heard the sermon and cannot conceive what they can lay hold of. So deep was Coley's feeling that he refused all invi- tations for the rest of the term. Mrs. Martyn took up her residence permanently in her father's house, now Thorverton Rectory, near Exeter, and the constant intercourse and strong mutual influence of the cousins remained unbroken, and increased with years. In the autumn of this year, his father lost a sister, and the effect of reading his letter was to elicit from Coley the following sentence in writing to his sister : How glad I shall be to be able by and by to do anything which would make him see that it was for his sake that I was working, and to make him happy in that. And I do think I have a little overcome my dislike to my books, but it is up-hill work with me still. . . . 1846.] Joy in GiHef 57 My thoughts are turned constantly to Ipswich, but I don't know whether you feel it so ; to a good person the notion of death has never seemed to me terrible after what we witnessed five years ago. It strikes one's heart with such intense reality immediately that the soul of our beloved is in peace, that unless the loss of the bodily presence is felt every day and hour, to those absent, the thinking of her death passes directly into thinking of her new life in the Lord. I don't say that in the actual house of mourning such feelings would be even natural, but I feel that when next I am at Ipswich and miss that dear face, the sense of our loss will be swallowed up in the belief of her happiness ; and so it is quite possible, and if possible, right to feel a degree of joy, not such as to make us mix as usual in society, but a quiet thoughtful joy in the very moment of sorrow. But for dear Granny, and Aunt Lue, and the poor children, they cannot think so yet. Their heavy feeling of grief is dead to every other feeling : I pity them from my heart. I hope the accounts of you, my dear Fan, will mend. Your very affectionate Brother, J. C. P. The letters of the close of the year 1846 are full of delight at the honours of his friend Edmund Bastard, who took a double first class, as is notified in large capitals on the top of the exulting note. ' I feel quite proud of being so very intimate with a " Double," and the old fellow is just as modest and quiet as ever.' At the same time James Patteson passed his matricu- lation examination, and the two brothers were thus again together. Even in the last undergraduate year, the preference 58 Life of yohn Coleridge Pattesoii [Ch. III. for Eton remained as strong as ever. Coley intended to remain at Oxford to read for honours through great part of the Long vacation ; and after refreshing himself with a run to Eton, he wrote : — ' Now for a very disagreeable contrast, but still I shall find great interest in my work as I go on, and read- ing books for the second or third time is light work compared to the first stodge at them. I am, how- ever, behindhand with my work, in spite of not having wasted much time here. ... I really don't see my way through the mass of work before me, and half repent having to go up for class. ... I went to the opera on Tuesday, but was too much taken up by Eton to rave about it, though Grisi's singing and acting were out and out; but, in sober earnest, I think if one was to look out simply for one's own selfish pleasure in this world, staying at Eton in the summer is paradise. I certainly have not been more happy, if so happy, for years, and they need no convincing there of my doting attachment to the place. I go down to Eton on Election Saturday and Sunday for my last enjoy- ment of it this year ; but if I am well and flourishing in the summer of 1849, and all goes right with me, it is one of the jolliest prospects of my emancipation from the schools to think of a month at Eton. Oh ! its hard work reading for it, I can tell you.' Thus Coley Patteson's work throughout his under- graduate three years was, so to speak, against the grain, tliough it was more diligent and determined than it had been at Eton. He viewed this as the least satisfactory ])criod of his life, and probal)ly it was that in wliicli I1C was doin^;" tlic most violence to his likings. It struck tliose wlio liad known him at Eton that he 1S48,] rhe Long Vacation at Oxford 59 had ' shaken oft' the easy going, comfortable, half slug- gish habit of mind ' attributed to him there, and to be earnestly preparing for the future work of life. His continued interest in Missions was shown by his assist- ing to collect subscriptions for the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, In fact, his charm of manner, and his way of taking for granted that people meant to do what they ought, made him a good collec- tor, and he had had a good deal of practice at Eton in keeping up the boys to the subscription for the stained glass of the east window of the Chapel which they had undertaken to give. That Long vacation of study was a great effort, and he felt it tedious and irksome, all the more from a weakness that affected his eyelids, and, though it did not injure his sight, often rendered reading and writing painful. Slight ailments concurred with other troubles and vexations to depress his spirits ; and besides these outward matters, he seems to have had a sense of not coming up to his ideal. His standard was pitched higher than that of most men : his nature was prone to introspection, and his constitutional inertness rendered it so difficult for him to live up to his own views, that he was continually dissatisfied with himself ; and this, in spite of his sweet unselfish temper, gave his manner at home an irritability, and among strangers a reserve — the very reverse of the joyous merry nature which used to delight in balls, parties and gaieties. Though an ardent friend, he became disinclined to enter into general society ; nor was the distaste ever entirely overcome, though he never failed to please by the charm alike of natural manner and of Christian courtesy ; the same spirit of gentleness and kindness very soon prevailed in subduing, even in family life, any 6o Life of yohn Colei-idge PaiicsGU [Ch. III. manifestation of the tender points of a growing cha- racter. In the autumn of 1849, he obtained a second class in the school of Litercs Jmmmiiores, a place that fairly- represented his abilities as compared with those of others. When the compulsory period of study was at an end, his affection for Oxford and enjoyment of all that it afforded increased considerably, though he never seems to have loved the University quite as well as Eton. As he intended to take Holy Orders, he did not give up his residence there ; but his first use of his leisure was to take a journey on the Continent with his brother and Mr. Hornby. It was then, that as he afterwards wrote, his real education began, partly from the opening of his mind by the wonders of nature and art, and partly from the development of his genius for philology. Aptitude for language had already shown itself when his sister Fanny had given him some German lessons ; and even on his first halt at Cologne, he received the compliment, ' Sie sprechen Deutsch wohl,' and he found himself talking to a German on one side and a Frenchman on the other. His letters throucfhout his foreio^n travels are more copious than ever, but are chiefly minute descriptions of what he saw, such as would weary the reader who does not want a guide book even full of individuality. Yet they cannot be passed by without noticing how he fulfilled the duty of study and endeavour at apprecia- tion which everyone owes to great works of art, instead of turning aside with shallow conceit if he do not enter into them at first sight. At Cologne, after going over the Cathedral on the evening of his arrival, Ik; let his two companions go on to Bonn that same night, while he waited till the morn- i85o.] Milan Cathedral 6i ing, rose at half-past five, saw it again more thoroughly, and was exceedingly delighted, though Regensburg impressed him even more from its completeness. After the wonders of Vienna and the mines of Salzburg, the mountain scenery of the Tyrol was an unspeakable pleasure, which tries to express itself in many closely written pages. Crossing into Italy by the Stelvio Pass, a sharp but passing fit of illness detained Coley at Como for a day, and caused him to call in an Italian doctor, who treated him on the starva- tion system, administered no medicines, and would take no fee. The next day Coley was in condition to go on to Milan, where his first impression of the Cathedral was, as so often happens, almost of bewilderment. He did not at first like the Lombardo-Gothic style, but he studied it carefully, and filled his letter with measure- ments and numbers, though confessing that no part pleased him so much as the pinnacles terminating in statues, ' each one a very beautiful martyr's memorial.' Two more visits of several hours, however, brought the untutored eye to a sense of the harmony of proportion, and the surpassing beauty of the carvings and sculp- ture. It did not need so much study to enjoy Leonardo da Vinci's great fresco, of which he wrote long and elabo- rately, and, altogether, Milan afforded him very great delight and was a new world to him. It was the farthest limit of his travels on this occasion. The party returned by way of Geneva ; and Coley, alone with four guides, attempted the Col du Geant. The following is his ac- count of the danger in which he found himself : — ' On Monday at 4.15 a.m. we started from the Montan- vert, with our alpenstocks, plenty of ropes, and a hatchet to cut steps in the ice. We walked quickly over the Mer de Glace, and in about three hours 62 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteson [ch. in. came to the difficult part. I had no conception of what it would be. We had to ascend perpendicular walls of ice, 30, 40, 50 feet high, by little holes which we cut with the hatchet, and to climb over places not a foot broad, with enormous crevasses on each side. I was determined not to give in, and said not a word, but I thought that no one had a right to expose himself to such danger if known beforehand. After about three hours spent in this way, (during which I made but one slip, when I slid about twelve feet down a crevasse, but providentially did not lose my head, and saved myself by catching at a broken ridge of ice, rising up in the crevasse, round which I threw my leg and worked my way up it astride), got to the region of snow, and here the danger was of falling into hidden crevasses. We all five fastened ourselves to one another with ropes. I went in the middle, Couttet in front, then Payot. Most unluckily the weather began to cloud over, and soon a sharp hailstorm began, with every indication of a fog. We went very cautiously over the snow for about three hours, sinking every now and then up to our middles, but only once in a crevasse, when Couttet suddenly fell, singing out ' Tirez ! tirez P but he was pulled out instantly. We had now reached the top, but the fog was so dense that I could scarcely see 30 feet before me, and the crevasses and mountains of snow looming close round us looked awful. At this moment the guides asked me if I vncst make the passage. I said instantly that I wanted to do so, but that I would sooner return at once than endanger the lives of any of them. Tlic^y told me there was certainly great danger, they liad lost their way, but were unwilling to give up. rOr an lioiir and a half we beat about ill tlic fog, among llie crevasses tr)iiig every way to 1850.] The Col die Gt'auL 6 o find the pass, which is very narrow, wet to the skin, and in constant peril ; but we knew that the descent on the Chamouni side is far more difficult than that on the Courmayeur side. At last all the guides agreed that it was impossible to find the way, said the storm was increasing, and that our only chance was to return at once. So we did, but the fearful difficulties of the descent I shall never forget. Even in the finest weather they reckon it very difficult, but yesterday we could not see the way, we were numbed with intense cold, and dispirited from being forced to return. ' In many places the hail and sleet had washed out the traces we trusted as guides. After about four hours, we had passed the most dangerous part, and in another hour we were safely upon the Mer de Glace, which we hailed with delight : Couttet, who reached the point of safety first, jumping on the firm ice and shouting to me ' // iiy a phis de danger, MonsietLr! Here we took off the ropes, and drank some more brandy, and then went as hard as we could, jumping across crevasses, w^hich two days before I should have thought awkward, as if they were cart ruts. We reached Chamouni at '^.'^o p.m., having been sixteen and a quarter hours without resting. I was not at all tired ; the guides thanked me for having given so little trouble, and declared I had gone as well as themselves. Indeed I was providentially unusually clear-headed and cool, and it was not till the danger was over that I felt my nerves give way. There was a good deal of anxiety about us at Chamouni, as it was one of the worst days ever seen here. Hornby had taken all my clothes to Geneva, so I put on a suit of the landlord's, and had some tea, and at 1 1 p.m. went to bed, not forgetting, you 64 Life of John Coleridge Pattcso}i [Ch. ill. may be sure, to thank God most fervently, for this merciful protection, as on the ice I did many times with all my heart. 'On reviewing coolly, to-day, the places over which we passed, and which I shall never forget, I remember seven such, I trust never again to see a man attempt to climb. The state of the ice and crevasses is always shifting, so that the next person who makes the ascent may find a comparatively easy path. We had other dangers too, such as this : twice the guides said to me ' Ne pai'lez pas- ici, Monsieur, et allez vite,' the fear being of an ice avalanche falling on us, and we heard the rocks and ice which are detached by the wet falling all about. The view from the tof), if the day is fine, is about the most magnificent in the Alps ; and as in that case I should have des- cended easily on the other side, the excursion would not have been so difficult. I hope you will not think I have been very foolish, I did not at all think it would be so dangerous, or was it possible to foresee the bad weather. My curiosity to see some of the difficulties of an excursion in the Alps is fully satisfied.' After this adventure, the party broke up, James Patteson returning home with Mr. Hornby, while Colcy, who hoped to obtain a Fellowship at Merton, and wished in the mean time to learn German thoroughly in order to study Hebrew by the light of German scholarship, repaired to Dresden for the purpose ; revelling, by the way, on the pictures and glass at Munich, descriptions of which fill three or four letters. He remained a monlli at Dresden, reading for an hour a day with a German master, and spending many hours besides in study, recreating himself with German news- papers at the cafe where he dined, and going to the 1 85 1.] Italian Jotivjiey 65 play In the evening to hear colloquIaHsms. He lodged with a burgher family, where his good-natured hostess took up and read a German letter to his sister, without the least notion that she was taking a liberty, and used to invite him to join the family party to the Paradise, a favourite Sunday resort at a little distance from Dresden. The picture galleries were his daily enjoy- ment, and he declared the Madonna di San SIsto fully equal to his anticipations. ' There Is that about the head of the Virgin which I believe one sees in no other picture, a dignity and beauty with a mixture of timidity quite indescribable.' Returning home for Christmas, Coley started again in January 185 1, In charge of a pupil, the son of Lord John Thynne, with whom he was to go through Italy. The journey was made by sea from Marseilles to Naples, where the old rdgivie was still In force. Shakespeare and Humboldt were seized ; and after several hours' detention on the score of the suspicious nature of his literature, Mr. Patteson was asked for a bribe. The climate was in itself a great charm to one always painfully susceptible to cold ; and, after duly dwelling on the marvels of Vesuvius and Pompeii, the travellers went on to Rome. There the sculp- tures were Coley's first delight, and he had the ad- vantage of hints from Gibson on the theory of his admiration, such as suited his love of analysis. He poured forth descriptions of statues and pictures In his letters : sometimes apologising. — ' You must put up with a very stupid and unintelligible sermon on art. The genius loci would move the very stones to preach on such a theme. Again : The worst, is that I ought to have months instead of days to see Rome in. I economise my time pretty well ; but yet I find I. F 66 Life of Jolm Coleridge Patteson [Ch. ill. every night that I can only do a little of what I pro- pose in the morning : and as for my Italian, an hour and a half a day is on an average more than I give to it. I suffer a good deal from weakness in the eyes ; it prevents my working at night with comfort. I have a master every other day. I tried to draw, but it hurt me so much after looking about all day that I despair of doing anything, though I don't abandon the idea altogether.' The tutor and pupil gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the Carnival ; and as the rollicking mirth is becoming a thing of the past, his account of it may not be unacceptable. * Thynne B and I went at about half-past three to the Corso, which is the great street of Rome, a mile lono", and in which the fun oroes on. We walked about for a little while, and then took up our station at a friend's lodgings, six of us, stationed at four win- dows two pair up. By this time the scene was very picturesque ; red and white, and classically gold embroidered cloths being hung from the windows, the street crowded with French and Italian soldiers, lazzaroni, innumerable carriages full of English and others, in holiday costume, soon doomed to be con- siderably injured, as you shall hear. We had the honour certainly of commencing the fun, as two of our party were old stagers, who did not scruple, to my vast amusement, to go regularly into the spirit of th<' thing. Accordingly, we bought about three good sacks full of confetti, little round " Littlejohns," but made of chalk, so tliat the whole, divided among us, cost about one sliilling each. With these we showered down storms like hailstones upon all the best dressed people, and in about five minutes our i8si.] The Carnival at Rome 67 friends in the opposite balcony began too, and then it soon became general, and you never saw such a scene, carriages moving slowly under an avalanche of sham or real confetti, occasionally a bag of flour descending with a flop on a red velvet bonnet, thousands of bouquets flying about, men in carriages fighting (at a great disadvantage) with men in bal- conies, ladies chucking sugar-plums into the faces of people on foot ; such shouting, laughing, and rattling of the confetti on parasols and bonnets you never dreamt of B and I occupied one window, and were rather conspicuous, as we had a shovel with which, when the row became fast and furious, we poured regularly showers of these chalk pellets on the people. One carriage was so awfully pelted by us that the people stopped, got out, and ran for shelter. The stones underneath our windows were quite whitened, and the carriages (all covered with canvas over the seats), looked as if they had just passed a good fall of snow. We generally reserved our ammunition for our friends and for black dresses, on which the chalk told delightfully. I daresay it sounds very childish ; but if you had seen everybody employed in the same way, and everything taken in good part, as the great thing is to make as much of the licence allowed as possible, you would have enjoyed it too. At about half-past five, after a great deal of trouble, the street (not the trottoir) was cleared for the race. Sand had been thrown all along the stones ; and presently the horses passed, going like wild things without riders, as you know, and ornamented with feathers, and balls with little spikes to goad them, and streamers. Then the whole thing was over, and we Vv^ent off^ to dine. Yesterday was said to be stupid, as the first day F 2 68 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. ill. generally is, but I know I laughed till my sides regularly ached, and got quite hot with shying chalk pellets.' Ash Wednesday brought, of course, a very different letter, suggested by witnessing the ceremony of the Pope's blessing and springling the ashes in the Sistine Chapel. Pius IX. is spoken of as having 'a mild, benevolent, unintellectual face, the exact mirror of his character. The ashes were consecrated, and the Pope's mitre and little white skull cap being re- moved, the chief Cardinal Penitentiary sprinkled ashes on his head in the shape of the Cross ; the mitre and cap were replaced, and the cardinals in order, prelates, priests, and anybody that liked, were sprinkled by the Pope, with these words in Latin, " Remember, dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." I don't think the words of the whole were intelligible, and it failed to impress me with any sense of solemnity at all. Every good feeling and thought is so materialised in the Romish Church that it becomes vulgar, and engrosses the imagina- tion, but not the heart.' Such is the tenor of all the letters on the religious state of Rome. The apparently direct supplications to the Saints, the stories told in sermons of desperate sinners saved through some lingering observance paid to the Blessed Virgin, and the alleged abuse of the Confessional shocked Patteson greatly, and therewith he connected the flagrant evils of the political condition of Rome at that time, and arrived at conclusions strongly adverse to Roman Catholicism as such, though he re- tained .uninjured the Catholic tone of his mind. Before leaving Rome, he made one of a party who werci to be presented to the Pope, including a gentle- 1 85 1.] Presentation to the Pope 69 man and lady, both converts, and the daughter of the latter, as he says, ' not ditto ' : — ' As we entered a long, oblong room, he was standing quite alone, in a white dress. The two Romanists knelt instantly, and I bowed very low, then we bowed again half way up the room, and then I bowed again, knelt, and kissed his hand. He grasped mine tight. This done, we stood in a line in front of him. Talbot introduced me as the son of the first English Judge, and he made a re- mark which I just answered with two or three words, and that was all he said. To he was quite affectionate, putting his hand on his shoulder, and calling him tnio. Then he turned abruptly to Miss , and said, "What is your name?" She either did not hear or did not understand Italian, or was frightened, for she did not speak the whole time, but her mother answered " Francesca Maria." "My child, you bear the name of Sta. Francesca Romana e delta Vergine Santissima. Pray, my daughter, and imitate their holy lives, pray earnestly to God to lead you to the truth. Your mother will pray for you, I will pray for you that you may be brought to the truth." All this, and much more, spoken in a simple, benevolent, yet authoritative manner, produced a great impression on me. There was no formality, and I quite forgot who he was as I looked at him earnestly for some minutes at a dis- tance of not more than two or three feet. I hoped he would have spoken again to me, but he said " Adieu," bowed to us, and we retired. I think I scarcely ever witnessed a more interesting scene. At first, I was afraid he would dismiss us with only a common-place remark or two, for he said,. " Do you all live at the same lodgings ? " and then asked 70 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [ch. hi. if he spoke Italian, and on his saying " No," observed, " I only speak a very litde French, so we can't get on well together; but you understand enough to know that I give you my benediction," and, then to my great delight, he began in the serious way I have mentioned. He is certainly a striking looking man when seen close, not clever-looking, but very gentle and benevolent, with a sweet full voice — I heard him chant capitally in the Sistine.' It was art which was the special attraction to Coley of all the many spells of old Rome. He spent much time in the galleries, and studied ' modern painters ' with an earnestness that makes Ruskinism pervade his letters. ' I am off again this morning to the Vatican ; it is hopeless to attempt to see it all, but I know the capi d' ope7^a and study them. The Dying Gladiator in the Capitol is, I think, after all the noblest statue I ever saw ; perfect in proportion, yet without the unnatural display of muscle that many artists strive after. ... I have been here introduced for the first time to some very small pictures of Fra Angelico. Certainly he expresses more completely than any painter the fulness of Divine love and beauty. His own most holy life is reflected in every face he draws. It is striking, certainly, to me to observe that the religious painters obtain or fall short of this power of expressing holy, sacred love and adoration in proportion as their own moral character and spiritual life become alienated or debased, and this is well shadowed forth in the legend of Lionardo da Vinci painting the Ccnacolo. In this particular ex- pression, Raijhael is undoubtedly excelled by such men as Angelico, Francia, and Perugino ; and I am 1 85 1.] Pre-Raffaellite A7't ']\ not sure if the somewhat hard and stiff drawing, and the symmetrical arrangement of the pictures do not increase the effect : and I think that the highest style of religious painting is hardly compatible with the colouring of a Titian or a Rubens. In choice of sub- ject and feeling for beauty, both the last-mentioned painters fall infinitely below the old masters, of course, and Rubens perhaps belov/ any great painter (excepting always Rubens at Antwerp, who is a different man from Rubens elsewhere in his treatment of sacred subjects). I stand before a Madonna of Francia's and feel, " How peaceful and calm, how far removed from earthly passions, how expressive of holy love, with a shade of the sword that pierces the heart not being forgotten ; how ex- quisitely beautiful, not with the beauty of waving hair and black Italian eyes, but of soft gentle love absorbed in contemplation of all that is divine and holy!" Now, I think a picture that can give that effect — and his good pictures never fail to do so on me — may be, if you please, poor in colour and stiffly drawn, but I would not exchange it for the most gorgeous hues that Titian ever put on canvas.' At Rome he parted company with his pupil, and joined an old form-fellow, also travelling with pupils, and they saw together Assisi and Perugia, and de- lighted in tracing out the stations of the two armies of Rome and Carthage at Lake Thrasymene. They went over the fortress at Spoleto, including the prison, where they were edified by the sight of Gasparoni, a great bandit chief, walking about in a blue dress different from the others, a sort of king among them, and so grand and resolute looking a fellow that it was impossible not to feel a certain sense of romance. 72 Life of John Coleridge Pattcson [Ch. in. At Florence, Coley wrote as usual at much length of the galleries, where the Madonna del Cardellino seems to have been what delighted him most. He did not greatly enter into Michel Angelo's works, and perhaps hardly did his religious spirit full justice under the somewhat exclusive influence of Fra Angelico and Francia, with the Ruskinese interpretation. The delight was indescribable. He says : — ' But I have written again and again on this favourite theme, and I forget that it is difficult for you to understand what I write, or the great change that has taken place in me, without seeing the original works. No one can see them and be unchanged. I never had such en- joyment.' His birthday presents were spent on a copy of the beloved Madonna del Cardellino, which he says : — ' though it does not reach anything like the intensity of feeling of the original, is still a very excellent paint- ing, and will always help to excite in my imagination, and I hope to convey to you, some faint image of the exceeding beauty of this most beautiful of all paint- ings.' Some outlay on engravings was likewise made, not without many apologies for drawing upon his father for a small additional sum. Readers chiefly interested in the subsequent career of the missionary would feel interrupted by the overflowing notes on painting, sculpture and architecture which fill the correspondence, J yet without them, it is scarcely possible to realise the young man's intense enthusiasm for the Beautiful, especially for spiritual beauty, and thus how great was the sacrifice of going to regions where all these delights were unknown and unattainable. He went on to Venice, where he met a letter which gave a new course t(j his thoughts, for it informed him that the deafness which had long been growing on his 1851.] The Jndges proposed Retirement 73 father had now become an obstacle to the performance of his duties as a Judge, and announcing the intention of retiring. In the fulness of his heart he wrote : — Venice, Hotel de la Villa : May 2, 185 1. My dearest Father, — I have not been in Venice an hour yet, but little did I expect to find such news waiting for me as is contained in Jem's letter, and I can lose no time in answering it. It is indeed a heavy trial for you, that, in addition to many years of constant annoyance from your deafness, you should be obliged now, in the full vigour of your mind, and with the advantage of your experience, to give up a profession you so thoroughly delight in. I don't deny that I have often contemplated the possibility of such a thing ; and I had some conversation with Uncle John last winter in consequence of my fancying your deaf- ness was on the increase, though the girls did not perceive it ; I hope with all my heart I was wrong. I told him what I know you feel, that, painful as it will be to you to retire from the Bench, if any dissatisfaction was expressed at your not hearing sufficiently what passed, you would choose rather to give up your seat than to go on under such circum- stances. His answer, I remember, was that it was most difficult to know what to do, because it was no use concealing the fact that your infirmity did inter- fere with the working of the Court more or less, on Circuit especially, and at other times when witnesses were examined, but that your knowledge of law was so invaluable that it was difficult to see how this latter advantage could fail to outweigh the former defect ; and everybody knew that they can't find a lawyer to fill your place, though another man 74 Life of yohii Coleridge Pattcson [Ch. ill. might do the ordinary circuit work with greater comfort to the Bar ; though therefore nobody is so painstaking and so little liable to make mistakes, yet to people in general and in the whole, another man would seem to do the work nearly as well, and would do his work, as far as his knowledge and conscientiousness went, with more ease; — this was something like the substance of what passed then, and you may suppose that since that time I have thought more about the possibility of your retire- ment ; but as I know how very much you will feel giving up an occupation in which you take a regular pride, I do feel very sorry, and wish I was at home to do anything that could be done now. I know well enough that you are the last man in the world to make a display of your feelings, and that you look upon this as a trial, and bear it as one, just as you have with such great patience and submission (and dear Joan too,) always quietly borne your deafness ; but I am sure you must, and do feel this very much, and, added to Granny's illness, you must be a sad party at home. I feel as if it were very selfish to be in this beautiful city, and to have been spending so much money at Florence. Neither did Joan, in her last letter, nor has Jem now, mentioned whether you received two letters from Florence, the first of which gave some description of my vetturino journey from Rome to Florence. I litde thought when I was enjoying myself so very much there, that all this was jxissing at liome. . . Your influence in the Privy C(nincil (wlierc I conclude they will offer you a seat) might be so good on very important questions, and it woukl be an occupation for you ; and I have always hoped that if it should ])lease God, you should retire while still in the priiiK; of life for work. You would 1 85 1.] Letters on the p7^oposcd Retirement 7 j publish some great legal book, which should for ever be a record of your knowledge on these subjects. However it may be, the retrospect of upwards of twenty years spent on the Bench with the complete respect and admiration of all your friends is no slight thing to fall back upon ; and I trust that this fresh trial will turn to your good, and even happiness here, as we may trust with safety it will hereafter. Ever your very affectionate and dutiful Son, John Coleridge Patteson. To his sister he wrote a week later : — Venice : May 10, 1851. My dearest Fan, — Like you, my thoughts run almost exclusively upon the great changes in store for us at home, and especially I think of course of poor Father, deprived of his occupation, and it looks gloomy, I must confess. I hope, however, he will write, and, above all, not refuse a seat in the Privy Council, just now questions are arising which make it a matter of extreme importance to have good sound men sitting there. Other storms are gathering in the horizon, and we don't know what work may be in store for that precious tribunal. Many things certainly point to discussions likely to ensue about the ' Inspiration of Scripture ' and other vital points, and even one voice might help to avert great danger from the whole Church. I think such considerations ought to operate and supersede private and personal feelings on the subject. I don't put this forward as an argument simply to persuade him to accept a seat, but I believe many men would receive comfort from knowing that there was at all events one sound churchman to plead their cause there. . . I see that Lord John is making all sorts of malicious 76 Lijc of Johii Coleridge Patteson [Ch. in. remarks about the Bishop of Exeter's synod •} but I have no doubt the Bishop has not taken such a step without good legal advice, and I hope it will be productive of good. Many people want some dog- matic positive teaching, something authoritative as an act of an ecclesiastical body, and would recognise in it signs of vitality which would be cheering to them. It is sad indeed to see the late secessions. The day before yesterday, I saw that respectable in- dividual King Otho of Greece, here, whose still more respectable father, the Ex-King of Bavaria, I saw at Florence, and last night a serenade was given in the Piazza of St. Mark to the Duke of Hesse, which was quite delightful. From 8.30 till 10 we walked up and down the Place, no fear of being run over in this place, you know. The moon, more than half full, gave a soft gentle light, and the splendid Austrian band, with torches numberless, at the oppo- site end of St. Mark's, was delightful to hear and look at. The effect of the bright red light at one end of the square was very striking, and when they played the Austrian Hymn (which ought to be played in very slow time,) I felt the musical enthusiasm rising for almost the first time since I left England. We have worked very hard here, and seen the churches and palaces well. John Bellini, the devotional painter of the Venetian school, with Cima, Vivanni, &c., I have enjoyed for the first time here ; but above all, I have been introduced to Tintoretto, of whose magnificent power it is not possible to speak highly enough. His daring conception of subjects, and not less his brilliant execution, mark him as one of the greatest of all painters, as a French friend said tome, " Qnclle hardiesse, ten vdritablc Michel Angc f and I think the comparison (|uite justifiable. Although in some ' I'ishop I'liilpntl's Diocesan Synod of 1S51, \\-\c first of modern times. 1851.] Pictures at Venice TJ of his works he shows an exquisite grace and tender- ness, which are terms no one can apply to Michel Angelo (and so far put Tintoretto above him), and which are very extraordinary to find in a painter, combined with grand powerful gifts of intellect, Ruskin is very good about him ; but nobody can spend a week in Venice without feeling that a new- development in art has been given by this great man. His works in the Scuola di San Rocco, the Academy, Doge's Palaces and churches, are very numerous. Titian's " Assumption of the Virgin " is the most splendid piece of colouring I ever saw, and the figure of the Virgin most noble, and even y^r a Titian devotional in character. The golden amber light in the upper part of the picture, which is perhaps 32 feet high, is, I suppose, perfect in colour, depth and transparency being displayed in a very extraordinary degree. I look forward with great delight to talking with you on these matters, as I feel quite sure you would appreciate their great beauty, and would feel as I do that pictures, like music or poetry, of a high class, speak to the heart and teach lessons, and convey ideas which are to be accepted with delight and ofratitude. Kuo-ler's " Handbuch " is invaluable, not the one Eastlake has published, but his book on the History of Art : it contains a sketch of the gradual development (as each master went onwards) of art, and seldom makes any criticism, but shows the connection of the whole capitally. As for the architectural buildings here, they must be seen. The Grand Canal seems to contain nothing but palaces, with their quaint Byzantine or Venetian Gothic windows and balconies. St. Mark's is one blaze of marble, gold and mosaics, like such buildings as one dreams of But many of these palaces are yS Life of Jolni Coleridge Pattcson [Ch. ill. uninhabited, and exhibit signs of decay. Many are being scraped and whitewashed. And the utter indifference of the people now on all questions connected with art is a painful contrast to the enterprise and spirit of old days, when Venice must have really looked like a fairy city rising out of the sea. Thus I saw Tintoret's Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple, a very grand work, hung up to dry (the custode's expression) at an open window on a stormy day, so that the canvas was fluttering in the wind, while his St. Agnes, one of the most lovely creations (for as I said before, in some of his works he shows very great delicacy and grace), is absolutely rotting on the walls. Both these pictures are in the Church of La Madonna dell' Orto ; and properly I scolded the sacristan, I can tell you ; who answered that the first picture had got mouldy and damp on the wall, and so they hung it up to dry ! The grand Last Judg- ment, and Worship of the Golden Calf, (in which the figure of Moses in ecstacy, and, as it were, trans- figured, is quite wonderful) are likely to share the same fate in the same church. I am afraid I am very absurdly enthusiastic in all these matters ; but it increases my own enjoyment in travelling at all events, though I daresay it rather bores you when you wade through long accounts of pictures which can have little or no meaning to you. . . Ever your loving Brother, J. CP. Two letters more from Milan and Zurich close the history of this journey, which ended in the beginning of June. In tlie winter, the death of a young cousin called f(jilli tl)e following letter : 1 852.] Death of Richard Pattesou 79 Buckerell Vicarage : Jan. i, 1852. My clearest Fan, — I add a line about Richard's end. Most peaceful and happy was it, free from pain and anguish of mind or body ; his last words * I hope so,' in answer to Kate's * I pray, my darling, we may meet in heaven,' were scarcely spoken ere he died. The girls are down, and calm and thankful that it has pleased God to take him and to grant him so blessed an end. I was not here, not at all expecting the end to be so near, and it is as well, for no doubt I should have been in the way. He looks so calm and happy now, no trace of pain on his face, his little white fleshless hands crossed on his breast, with the last flowers Aunt Frank sent him lying upon them, a very touching solemn sight. Ellen's hand was on his forehead, and Kate had both his hands in hers when he died. All the comfortine period of the illness returns now, for the last few hours were very peaceful and bespoke a mind at rest ; and, if anticipations of future bliss be ever granted to dying men in the last hours of an innocent well spent life, his last words ' What a beautiful evening ! ' twice repeated (it was nearly 8 a.m.), ' Come, come, is there one for me ? ' suggest many a thought the world dreams not of. How much misery he has perhaps been spared. If he be at rest in the Lord, who would not wish to be like him ? It has been a great privilege to witness during the gradual decay of his strength, his patience and humility ; and I pray that the memory of his early death, now especially at the beginning of a new year, when we know not what in God's mercy may be in store for us, may never be effaced from my mind. Your loving J. C. P. So Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. ill. In this winter of 1852, Mr. Justice Patteson's final decision to retire was made and acted upon. The Judge delighted in no occupation so much as the pursuit of law, and therefore distrusted his own opinion as to the moment when his infirmity should absolutely unfit him for sitting in Court. He had begged a friend to tell him the moment that the impediment became serious ; and this, with some hesitation, was done. The intimation was thankfully received, and after due consideration, carried out. Much reluctance was shown by his brethren on the Bench in consenting to his retirement ; and, after the decision was finally made, Sir Cresswell Cresswell, with considerate kindness, took his place on the Norfolk Circuit, to spare him the necessity of sitting alone, so that he remained in London. On January 29, 1852, after twenty-two years on the Bench, and at the age of sixty-two, Mr. Justice Patteson wrote his letter of resignation to Lord Truro, then Lord Chancellor, petitioning for the usual pension. It was replied to in terms of warm and sincere regret ; and on the 2nd of February, Sir John Patteson was nominated to the Privy Council, as a member of the Judicial Committee ; where the business was chiefly conducted in writing, and he could act with com- paratively little obstacle from his deafness. On P^ebruary 10, 1852, he took his leave of the Bar. The Court of Queen's Bench was crowded with barristers, who rose while the Attorney General, Sir Alexander Cockburn, made an address expressive of the universal heartfelt feeling of respect and admi- ration with which the retiring Judge was regarded. Sir John Patteson's reply, read with a voice broken by emotion, is so touching in its manly simplicity and liunilliL)' lIuiL a paragraph or two may well be quoted : — 'Mine,' he said, 'is on(; of the many instances 1852.] Judge Pat tesous Fareiuell speech 81 which I know that a pubHc man without pre-eminent abihties, if he will but exert such as it has pleased God to bestow on him honestly and industriously, and without ostentation, is sure to receive public approbation fully commensurate with, and generally much beyond, his real merits ; and I thank God if I shall be found not to have fallen entirely short in the use of those talents which he has entrusted to me.' Then, after some words on the misfortune that necessitated his withdrawal, he continued, * I am aware that on some, and I fear too many, occasions I have given way to complaints and im- patient expressions towards the Bar and the witnesses in Court, as if they were to blame when, in truth, it was my own deficiency ; and heartily sorry have I been and am for such want of control over myself. I have striven against its recurrence earnestly, though not always successfully. My brethren on the Bench, and you, and the public, have been very kind and indulgent to me ; the recollection of which will remain with, and be a great solace to me for the rest of my life. And now, gentlemen, I bid you farewell most affectionately. I wish you many years of health and happiness, of success and honour in your liberal pro- fession ; the duties of which have been and are and I trust ever will be performed, not only with the greatest zeal, learning, and ability, but with the highest honour and integrity, and a deep sense of responsibility to God and to man, and which being so performed, are, in my humble judgment, eminently conducive, under the blessing of God, to maintain the just prerogative of the Crown, and the true rights, liberties, and happiness of the people.' He then rose from the Judges' seat, and bowed his I. G 82 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. hi. farewell to the assembly, who stood respectful and silent, except for some suppressed tokens of emotion, for in truth to many the parting was from an old familiar and much trusted friend. One testimony of feeling which gave him much pleasure, was an address full of warm gratitude from the Common Law clerks who had been brought into contact with him in chambers, and which they ac- companied with a handsome silver inkstand. Private letters poured in, expressive of deep regret, esteem, and affection, and not only were gratefully read at the time, but became to the family valuable memo- rials of the heartful appreciation gained by a high- minded and upright course of life, and evidences that their father had done that which is perhaps the best thing that it is permitted to man to do here below, namely, ' served God in his generation.' CHAPTER IV. FELLOWSHIP OF MERTON 1852 — 1854 In the summer of 1852 Coleridge Patteson stood for a fellowship of Merton, obtained it, and moved into rooms there. Every college has a distinctive cha- racter ; and Merton, if not actually the eldest, is at least one of the oldest foundations at Oxford, and is one of the most unchanged in outward aspect. There is a peculiar charm in the beauty and seclusion of the quadrangle, in the library, still mediaeval even to the fittings ; and the church is above all impressive in the extraordinary loveliness of the early decorated archi- tecture, and the space and loftiness of the choir. The whole, pre-eminently among the colleges, gives the sense of having been unaltered for five hundred years, yet still full of life and vigour. Coley attached himself to Merton, though he never looked to permanent residence there. The Curacy in the immediate neighbourhood of his home was awaiting him, as soon as he should be ordained ; but though his purpose was unchanged and he was of full age for Holy Orders, he wished for another year of preparation, so as to be able to study both Hebrew and theology more thoroughly than would be possible when pastoral labour should have begun. What he had already seen of Dresden convinced him that he G 2 84 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. IV. could there learn Hebrew more thoroughly and more cheaply than at home, and to this he intended to devote the Long vacation of 1852, without returning to Feniton. There the family were settling them- selves, having given up the house in Bedford Square, since James Patteson had chambers in King's Bench Walk, where the ex- Judge could be with him when needed in London. There had been some notion of the whole family profiting by Sir John's emancipation to take a journey on the Continent, and the failure of the scheme elicited the following letter : — Merton : June 18. My dearest Fan, — I can, to a certain extent, sympa- thise with you thoroughly upon this occasion ; the mere disappointment at not seeing so many interest- ing places and things is a sharp one, but in your instance this is much increased by the real benefit you hoped to derive from a warmer climate ; and no wonder that the disappearance of your hopes coupled with bodily illness makes you low and un- comfortable. The weather too is trying to mind and body, and though you try as usual to shake off the sense of depression which affects you, your letter is certainly sad, and written like the letter of one in weak health. Well, we shall see each other, please God, at Christmas now. That is better than passing nearly or quite a year away from each other ; and some other time I hope you will be able to go to Italy, and enjoy all the wonders there, though a tour for health's sake cannot be too soon. It is never too soon to get rid of an ailment. . . . It is very painful when men treat of such sacred subjects as Mr. a[)pears to have done. Such coarse description and the mean introduction of such 1852.] The Monolkelile Question 85 ideas are very offensive to me, I must say, even if right, which in this case I should think is certainly not so. The less gentlemanly Roman clergy are perpetually doing this sort of thing — it creates a sen- sation among uneducated people, suggests ideas easy to lay hold of, though not tending to produce any practical result. I believe your's to be the real orthodox belief on the subject. There were great discussions in the seventh century, as no doubt you know, on the question of our Lord's having one or two wills, of the nature of the human soul, &c. These, with other ideas concerning the co-existence of the Divine and human natures perfect and dis- tinct, led men to refine upon certain passages in the Bible, and to speculate extensively upon what is, if you think steadily, scarcely a conceivable subject for meditation. I don't feel certain whether any man ever analysed precisely the process of his own will, and how can one pretend to ascertain how the line, so to speak, was drawn and observed in action between our Lord's Divine and Human Will, Knowledge, and what we may call Character ? The real point is, that we are to believe that such Per- sonal Union of distinct Natures did co-exist. I never heard Mr. 's account of the Agony in the Garden, which again involves the whole question I have been writing about ; because our Lord in His Divine Foreknowledge knew certainly that He would die on the Cross, and that His life would be then and there offered up, so to suppose either that He prayed to be sustained in life till He had com- pleted the sacrifice, or to be spared its completion, equally imply an ignoring, so to say, of His Divine character, which knew all things and could foresee that He would both live to die on the Cross, and 86 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. iv. truly suffer the Cup. In that hour our Lord felt, I believe, the real weakness of Humanity, it may be, unaided for the time by any Divine power, the sins of the whole world crushing Him in misery and sorrow to the earth, a sense of desolation and deser- tion inconceivable. And it is remarkable that an Angel from Heaven should have strengthened Him as Angels strengthened and cheered Apostles and Saints, human creatures, for it is not conceivable that a Divine Being could receive any augmentation of strength from a created, though holy and blessed Spirit. It was, therefore, our Lord's humanity that received the support ; the Divine self-sustaining power seems to have been withdrawn. You will find in Olshausen something about it, no doubt. A clear apprehension of such a fundamental point in theology is quite necessary ; and this makes it im- perative upon people who are to be teachers to look upon such things, though at the risk of using sacred names too carelessly perhaps, at least, it is hardly safe to let oneself ai^gue about these as about other really speculative matters. To fully master the idea of what is involved in the parallel between Adam and our Lord, is in fact to master the most practical doctrine of Christianity. Union with Christ is our only hope. We must be joined to His Body, which is the Church ; so far all is clear. But what is to be the definition of this Church ? This is the way I hope soon to set really to work upon theology, reading Church history, &c., to illustrate tliemain ([uestions, showing what was the opinion of great thinkers, and the practical expression of forms of belief in the community at various times. Now, it would be nonsense to pretend to be reading. I am every minute iiU(:rrui)led, for Oxford just before 1852,] Second Visit to Dresden 87 Commemoration (especially now, when men are coming up to take their M.A. before the election), is always like a place turned upside down. But I fully agree with you that going on with doc- trinal reading is a great help to real devotion ; it keeps the mind enofao;ed and interested with serious solemn thoughts and hopes. I wish I could speak more from experience. I find that I am getting to know the undergraduates here, which is what I wanted to do ; it is my only chance of being of any use. True, that I have to do it at the expense of two half day's cricketing, which I have quite ceased to care about, but I know that when I went up to Balliol, I was glad when a Fellow played with us. It was a guarantee for orderly con- duct, and as I say it gives me an opportunity of knowing men. I hope to leave London for Dresden on Monday week ; Arthur is gone thither, as I find out from Jem, and I hope the scheme will answer. If I find I can't work, from my eyes, or anything else, preventing me, I shall come home, but I have no reason to expect any such thing. My best love to Joan and all friends. Your loving Brother, J. C. Patteson. The ' Arthur ' here mentioned was the youngest son of Mr. Frank Coleridge, and was then studying German at Dresden, lodging in the Johannisallee, he writes : — * Patteson spoke German fluently, and wrote German correctly. He had studied the language assiduously for about two years previously, and so successfully that whilst we were at Dresden, he was enabled to dispense with a teacher and make his assistance little more than nominal. Occasionally he wTote a SS Life of yohii Coleridge Patteson [Ch. iv. German exercise, but rather as an amusement than a disciphne, and merely with the view of enlarging his German vocabulary. I remember his writing an elaborate description of Feniton Court, and im- agining the place to be surrounded with trees be- longing to all sorts of climates. The result was very amusing to ourselves, and added to the writer's stock of words on particular subjects. When our master Schier appeared, the conversation was led by a palpable ambuscade to the topic which had been made the subject of Patteson's exercise, and conversation helped to strengthen memory. After looking over a few of Patteson's German exercises, Mr. Schier found so little to correct, in the way of grammatical errors, that these studies w^ere almost relinquished, and gave way to Arabic and Hebrew. Before we left Dresden, Patteson had read large portions of the Koran ; and, with the aid of Hur- witz's Grammar and Bernhard's Guide to Hebrew Students, books familiar to Cambridge men, he was soon able to read the Psalms in the original. I remember the admiration and despair I felt in wit- nessing Patteson's progress, and the wonder ex- pressed by his teacher in his pupil's gift of rapid acquirement. We had some excellent introductions ; amongst others, to Dr. , a famous theologian, with whom Patteson was fond of discussing the system and organisation of the Church in Saxony. Up to the time of his leaving England he was con- stantly using Olshausen's Commentary on the New Testament, a book he was as thoroughly versed in as Archbislioj) Trcncli liimsclf 1 think that he consulted no other books in his study of the Gospels, but Olshausen and P)engcrs Gnomon. In our pleasures at Dresden there was a mixture 1852.] Life at Dresden 89 of the zdile with the diilce. Our constant visits to the theatre were strong incentives to a preparatory- study of the plays of Goethe, Schiller, and Lessing. What noble acting we saw in that Dresden theatre ! With regard to the opera, I have never seen Weber or Meyerbeer's works given so perfectly and conscientiously as at Dresden. Patteson's chief delight was the Midsummer Night's Dream with Mendelssohn's music. He had a tuneful baritone voice and a correct ear for music. We hired a piano for our sitting-room ; and, though I failed to induce him to cultivate his voice, and join me in taking lessons, he sang some of Mendelssohn's Lieder very pleasingly, and knew most of the bass music from the Messiah by heart. He began to play a few scales on the piano, and hoped to surprise his sisters on his return to England by playing chants, but the Arabic and Hebrew studies proved too absorbing ; he grudged the time, and thought the result dispro- portioned to the sacrifice. In our daily walks we talked constantly of Church matters. Some sharp and sad experiences in the loss of more than one of his Eton and Oxford friends, who had abandoned the Church of England, failed to shake his confidence in the Church he was to serve so faithfully and to die for so gloriously. His faith and daily practice seem to me a protest and warning against the folly, if not the falsehood, of ex- tremes. Moderation, quiet consistency of life, and unswerving loyalty to a faith which had been the joy and comfort of his dear mother, whose loveable nature he inherited and reflected, a blameless life and unfailing charity enabled him when the time came to live a life of incessant toil, and face a martyr's death. I remember the present Bishop of 90 Life of JO In I Coleridge Patteson [Ch. iv. Carlisle inciting Cambridge undergraduates to be- come by virtue of earnestness, gentleness, and tole- ration, " guides not judges, lights not firebrands." He drew a perfect description of Patteson, who came more completely up to that ideal than anyone I ever knew. Here was a man capable of the purest and most tender friendship, with an exquisite appreciation of all that is noblest in life, and he was ready to give up all, and content to lead the forlorn hope of Christianity, and perish in the front ranks of the noble army. " And having been a little tried he shall be greatly rewarded, for God proved him, and found him worthy for Himself." ' I have given this letter almost entire, because it shows the impression Coley made on one, little his junior, in the intimate associations of cousin, neighbour and school-fellow, as well as travelling companion. This year seems to have been a marked stage of development. He was now twenty-five, and the boyish distaste for mental exertion which had so long rendered study an effort of duty, had passed into full scholarly enjoyment. The individuality and originality of his mind had begun to awaken, and in- fluenced probably by the German atmosphere of thought in which he was working, were giving him that strong metaphysical bent which characterized his tone througli life, and became apparent in his sermons when he addressed an educated audience. Here is a letter If) Iiis fatliftr, showing the phase through which his mind was passing : — 5 Johannisstrassc : July 17, 1852. My dearest Father, — The theatre is a great resource, and in spite of the weather, I go about twice in the week. The pit costs a shilling, and pit stalls two. 1852.] German. Theology 91 We work as much as we can ; but it is not easy to really grind away hard, for even in our rooms, shady as they are and looking north, in shirt sleeves and the coolest attire possible, we can hardly keep cool, but I think we do more than we should else- where. I read Hebrew every day, and a good deal of German ; and, as soon as the weather is cooler, I shall of course do more. Yesterday I went to a bookseller's to get some German periodicals. Most of the theologians here publish reviews, &c., in the shape of our Quarterly and Edinburgh ; and I thought by reading these I could get some idea of the actual influence that men like Neander, Olshausen, &c., have had upon Germany. This man had none of these works, but gave me the address of a Lutheran minister and preacher at the Kreuz Kirche. So off I went to him, and after half an hour's conversa- tion, he lent me several periodicals, and has put my name down in a circulating library of theological publications, just what I wanted. Every Wednesday I get a great heap, which I must return on the following Wednesday, reading of course just as much or as little as I like, and for two months I pay is.6d., wonderfully cheap, isn't it ? This clergyman is a man of about fifty, and asked me to come and see him, and walk with him occasionally, which of course I shall do. All that I want is to get an accurate idea of the theological state of Germany. People tell me that infidelity is very much decreasing, partly owing to the democratical influence which free- thinkers have exercised, and so have incurred the displeasure of the governments, and in some cases been suppressed, but partly because a natural re- action has begun to work. For instance, Strauss is said to have very few followers, and scarcely any- 92 Life of yolni Colandge Patteson [ch. iv. one would openly profess his opinons. The religion of Saxony is quite dependent on the State, which appoints a sort of Board of Education, composed chiefly of clergymen, who provide for the distribution of the country into dioceses, elect a superintendent for each diocese, who has to watch narrowly the clergy under him. None of these are permitted to preach anything against the recognised doctrines of the old original Lutheran body. If they do so, they are at once silenced and deposed. I am told that many of them do not feel a really strong attachment to many of the strong Lutheran doctrines, in which case they neither preach on those subjects at all, nor suffer themselves to take any positive line with reference to them. Education is conducted in the same way, so that all the teachers are bound to teach the doctrines, e.g., of the Augsburg Confession ; yet if the teacher himself cannot conscientiously do so, and prefers to be silent on these points, the super- intendent may, if he chooses, suspend him to ensure their being taught. Thus, within the officiating body no heterodox teaching can go on long where the superintendent does his duty ; and though great latitude is allowed the people in the choice of their particular form of worship, yet they are all ordered by the State, e.g., to attend church, and the influence of the clergy is so great that only lately the sale of certain articles on Sunday has been stopped in con- sequence of their remonstrances. I should think the Lutheran body very much more dependent upon the State in Saxony than the Church of England is dependent {i.e., in matters of tithes, payment of Bishops, Deans, &c.) on the State in England. I hope to learn something about the actual state of things bef(jrc. long ; at present I have had no oppor- 1852.] Private yiidgment 93 tunity of hearing much about it, and it is hard to me to talk of such subjects in German. It is not hard to see that in so far as rehgion is clearly a personal thing, and that each man is personally responsible for his opinions and actions, so far private judgment must have its share in every religious act and thought. Again, without some dogmatic authorita- tive teaching, there could be no real standard of the truth, each man would believe that to be true which seemed to him to be true, consequently there must be some authority. Now, if a man will require positive dogmatic teaching on every subject, absolute certainty on every point, he seems to me to be anti- cipating a state of things that he ought not to expect to find in this world. His very trial consists in re- gulating his life by prayer and study of God's Word, by firm faith in all that is revealed, and by following in sinele acts and in detail what his conscience dictates to him as right and holy. On the other hand, unfettered abuse of private judgment leads to scepticism and infidelity. Ought a man to expect to be able to define exactly where the province of the one ends and the other begins ? Or rather, as in fact we reconcile the difficulties of Free Will and Necessity, ought we not to be content to reconcile a positive Authority and Private Judgment ? Both are, however, to have an existence and exercise an in- fluence. Everybody feels and knows it, and in practice all of us tacitly admit it. But whether this is true or not, it can only affect educated people ; the poor and uneducated must have positive teaching : and then what are they to be taught ? Is a man to feel justified in incurring the responsibility of teaching them what he individually believes to be right ? Or do we not want some formal dogmatic teaching, 94 Z//6^ of John Coleridge Patteson [ch. iv. bearing the sanction of antiquity, and a commission to empower us to teach ? Now the last is a view which I don't think my friend will be in a hurry to accept. He will think it right they should be taught in accordance with Lutheran principle ; not I suppose that he can be sure of teaching in accordance with the spirit and practice of the whole Church, not because he can claim a Divine mission for so doing, but because to his reason it is the most satisfactory way and the most productive of good. But suppose, a man says, the essence and the form of Christianity are two distinct things, the form can, and must suffer change, but the essence remains ever the same. This is Neander's view ; and it accounts for everything, if accepted ; and if all people will agree upon what is essential, e.g., Neander does not hesitate to say that, at the beginning of the third century, a false view of the Priesthood was prevalent in Christendom, and he does not dispute the fact of Episcopacy being then established, and of a distinction between priests and laymen ; but this very fact and this very distinction he pronounces to be a return to the ancient Judaic Old Testament state of things, and to have arisen from a misconcep- tion of the spirit of Christianity. He argues quite consequently that Episcopacy was the natural form and organisation of the Christian community in the first ages, just as in the first stage of society man must pass through the various stages of despotism, moderate monarchy, &c., and go down to republi- canism, so tlie Cluirch at first required an aristocra- tical form of government, and the numberless converts and masses of heathen newly introduced to a knowledge of Christianity, coupled with the general ignorance of mankind, rendered such an authoritative power necessary for early diffusing and maintaining 1852.] Episcopacy 95 the truth. By the tune of the Reformatiou people were fitted to teach themselves ; and the Reformation was simply the revival of a more primitive form of Christianity, primitive in this respect, that all the complicated machinery of Bishops, Priests, &c., with the whole staff of subordinates, and the whole col- lective body of deep abstruse theology was put aside, the Bible was read and interpreted as in the first times : Christianity had assumed a new form, while its fundamental doctrines remained the same, the essence was unchanged. One illustration brings the matter home, e.g. Is one to feel Episcopacy to be in such a sense essential to Christianity, that without it Christianity would cease to be ? If answered in the affirma- tive, Neander would (I suppose) have said, " The simple fact of Episcopacy having universally pre- vailed in the early Church proves only that it was the necessary organisation of the Church for thai time (which is, of course, an assumption needing proof). I require some evidence that was considered by the Lord and His Apostles to be a necessary concomitant of Christianity to the end of time, the necessary manifestation of Christianity in the world," and he would of course not suffer you to restrict St. Matt, xxviii. 20 to episcopacy and priesthood. If answered negatively, he would say, " Then why do you insist upon the invalidity of orders conferred by others than Bishops ?" Don't think, my dear Father, I am puzzling my brains on these matters, and imbibing wild notions. I have written this very fast, with Willy and a friend of his from Schandau sitting in the room talking, and I don't feel it at all necessary for me to go into these matters. I only feel very thankful that I am born in the 96 Life of yoliii Coleridge Pattesou [Ch. IV. Church of England. No doubt one is right there, without taking upon one to say that everybody is wrong here. But, perhaps, I can sketch out to you better in a letter than in a conversation, something of what I be- lieve to be the view of a very good learned Lutheran, who can tell me so much about it ; and I thought perhaps you had not cared to give your mind to this subject in particular. I don't see that it wants reading so much as plain good sense, with a well disciplined habitually religious character. I feel an interest in such questions, because I think that they are very likely to be agitated in England ; perhaps in the north many of them are agitated now. It is quite enough for me to know that the early Church and so great an array of Fathers and Saints expounded our Lord's words to mean so and so, and view the then existing organisation of the Church as necessary essentially for all time ; but I may have to argue with a man some day who thinks Luther had quite as good a right to be heard on that point as St. Cyprian. This is a very different letter from what you ex- pected, but we have no news to give you. I am very tolerably well, not quite right, owing perhaps to the heat. . . You can't think how rich the German papers are about old Jock, and about the elections. The des- cription of der kleine yohnuy (Russell) and his dress as he appeared in London was capital. With kindest love to Joan and Fan, ever, my dearest Father, Your affectionate and dutiful Son, J. C. Patteson. Sunday, 10.30 A.M. I\S. I liave r< rid this morning a long review in the German Ciiurcliman, which is published at Darm- stadt, on tlie past tliirt}' years, and the prospect of 1852.] Sir John Pattesoiis Ansiver 97 the future events likely to result from the present theological state of the country. They maintain as quite certain what I said about the decrease of infidelity ; say that rationalism is no longer taught in the universities, and that men who are in heart scep- tics don't like to call themselves so ; whereas, twenty or thirty years ago, a man who did not openly avovA^ himself a rationalist was looked upon as a weak ignorant fellow, that deserved commiseration as a relic of a departed age. Happy the son, of growing struggling mind, who could write such a letter to his father, and receive in reply such another as follows : — Feniton Court : August 2, 1852. My dearest Coley, — We have heat here in plenty, but not equal to that which you describe at Dresden, and we have had repeated showers of rain, though we have hitherto escaped any thunderstorms. Certainly no heat here is at all equal to what I felt in London, but then I was in a chamber next to the sky, which accounts for it. It is delightful to read your accounts of what you see and are doing. Your theological letter of July 17, (so to speak) gives me a notion of Neander, though I know nothing of his works. I do not see what right he or any man has to reject positive evidence that our Lord con- sidered Episcopacy necessary to His Church. It is plain that our Lord did not Himself draw up a form of Church government or Church ministry, yet it is to my mind inconceivable that in His many discourses with the Apostles they should not have gathered from Him some notions on such matters, and as to the manner in which His Church should be continued, and His blessing accompany it, aye, and His Presence, T- H 98 Life of fohn Coleridge Patteso7i [Ch. iv. to the end of time ; which notions would be enlarged and improved and made clear by the Holy Spirit when granted to them abundantly. The miraculous powers given by our Lord Himself to the Twelve and to the Seventy during His own ministry, sepa- rated them for the time at all events from the general mass of believers, and indicated that there should be a ministry of some sort, emanating from Him, and not either elected by the mass, or self elected and self assuming ; and it is incredible that this should have been confined to the first receivers of such ministry, to whom such power was given as in John XX. 22, 23, and in the other accounts of the power of the Keys, &c., fortheymust pay the debt of nature, and cease to minister, and yet our Lord promises to be with them to the end of the world, and Himself says, in that sublime prayer in John xvii. 20 : ' Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also that shall believe on Me through their word.' Then what do the Apostles do after our Lord's Ascension, in regard to the vacancy by the treason and death of Judas ? They (the eleven), not the whole body of believers, elect and ordain Matthias ; afterwards they separated Paul and Barnabas for the work of Apostle- ship, and laid their hands on them. Elders were ordained ; Timothy and Titus were ordained ; and St. Paul tells the latter in his Epistle to him to ordain others, and in his Epistles to Timothy and Titus speaks expressly of orders in the ministry and of their qualifications. Moreover, Paul, and James, and Peter, and Jude, all of them speak of false prophets creeping in unawares, and many other similar expressions, which show that, no more under the Christian tlian under the Jewish dispensation, could it be lawful for men to take the ministry upon 1852.] AtUhority for Episcopacy 99 themselves. If these things were so in the eadiest ages of the Church, and those nearest to the Apostles treated the ApostoHcal Succession (or Episcopacy, which is nearly the same thing) as essential, what right have moderns, in the conceit of their reason, to say that it has ceased to be so ? It seems to me to be conceited development, and nothing more. Has the Christian religion so purified the world that all are priests or ministers ? I trow not ! and if not, who has the power of ordaining ? My belief is, that the corruptions of the Church of Rome, and the un- warranted assumption of Infallibility by the Pope, having brought on the Reformation, and the Continen- tal reformers having no means, or perhaps neglecting such means as they had, to procure Episcopal Ordin- ation, were under a necessity, a supposed necessity of self ordination, as it were, and reasoned themselves into a belief that there was no essential which they could not obtain. Wesley and his immediate followers went through a somewhat similar process, not, however, with the same apparent necessity. But I do not know whether Neander so distinctly holds as to the necessity of any ministry at all, whether he considers that anyone may set himself up as a minister or be so constituted by any, and what number of persons or congregations, not regarding the sin of Jeroboam (spite of its being called Judaizing, to say so), or whether a purely State ministry be considered right. What you say of Saxony seems as if the latter notion were prevalent there. I agree that we in England have reason to be most thankful that we have a Church with a regular ministry in succession ; and holding this, as I do, to be essential, I am not studious to make out how far the Reformed Churches of the Continent, under these circumstances, are H 2 loo Life of Jo fill Coleridge Patteson [ch. i\'. justified in holding otherwise. I do not mean by this to intimate that you should not inform yourself fully of their views ; nor am I afraid of any ill effect on your mind from so doing. Moreover, you will perceive that I am not learned in these matters, and wTite only what comes uppermost. As to dogmatic teaching in a church and private judgment in its individual members, I quite agree with you that they are as irreconcileable in theory as ' fixed fate, and free will, foreknowledge absolute.' They are, how- ever, practically reconcileable where there is real charity and humility, not otherwise. Let me hear more from you on these matters. . . Your affectionate Papa, J. p. The reply follows a few days later, bearing on the postmark the date, August 12. My dearest Father, — I can hardly tell you what a real enjoyment I feel in reading your letter, not that I did not before feel quite sure that you thought on these subjects what you have now written, but I had some fear that I might be misunderstood, for I wrote hastily, and without knowing my subject. I never believed, since I thought seriously about the matter, anything on the question of Apostolic Succession, different from what you say. I feel sure that is the plain, humble, faithful way of receiving our Lord's promises ; and I think that the more I may learn to realize the truth of the historical facts of the Gospel narrative, and to feel that really and in truth the effect of sucli and such promises is now exhibiting itself in the world, a real though unseen instrument of more good than we are apt to think of, the more I shall become satisfied that the whole question is 1852.] Expedience of Controversy. 10 1 one which does not admit of being tested by the ordinary exercise of the reason, and that subtle dis- tinction about the essence and the form of Chris- tianity is better left untouched. I don't know that it is possible when once a man's curiosity and desire for information is aroused to stifle it by a mere act of the will, but if I was not going to be a clergyman, I would try not to think much on the subject. Now, however, I feel that I may very likely be called upon to give my opinion on this, as on other questions upon which a clergyman may reasonably be expected to be able to give some answer, not indeed probably at Alfington, but in some other and larger places, if I live long enough to change my quarters. It is a very great satisfaction to know that you do not think any, much less a positive view with regard to the position of the Lutherans, e.g., necessarily involved in such a discussion. Many cases occur where the ordinary means of grace are unavoidably lost, {e.g., the sudden death of an unbaptized infant), in which cases we do well to throw ourselves upon the un- covenanted mercies of God ; but yet there always remains more of uncertainty than in cases where all human conditions have been fulfilled. That the lethargy of the Church in England was in many ways the cause of the defections from it remains undeniably a reproach and a stain upon it. In the same way it is impossible to avoid assigning to the worldliness and corruptions of Rome, some share of the sin of provoking (so to speak) new and un- lawful manifestations of Christian doctrine. But beyond all this, one sees that all mankind in all ages have resolved themselves into two great classes, viz., a, those whose disposition and nature it is to be independent of others ; and )3, those who require I02 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [ch. iv. support and assistance, whose natural timidity renders them anxious to seek reHef from the burden of responsibiHty in obedience to some principle of authority which they recognise as sufficient to guide them. We have the great distinction between the character of man and woman, and something of the same sort seems to me to come into account for the various conduct of different classes of men. Under all conditions of government, climate, and religion, there have been from time to time manifestations of this. I suppose even in China and Turkey the strictest fatalism may crush, to a certain extent, man's natural feeling, but I don't think it can exclude a doubt from finding its way into a man's heart, for in that it is not true, it does not satisfy the human mind, it cannot correspond to those faculties whose r^(2/ satisfaction and legitimate development cannot fall short of the Christian standard. If one may then suppose that at all times a spirit of free enquiry has existed, in however small degree, alongside of a quiet spirit of submission and obedience, of willingness to accept what has already been accep- ted, so soon as this long accepted authoritative teaching has become manifestly corrupted, the spirit of enquiry not in itself, but (as it were) by opposition to the abuse of the spirit of acquiescence In traditional teaching, appeared true and honest and right, and employing itself negatively only in reforming corruptions, approved itself to sincere and honest men. We know that in Italy and Rome itself many a man was conscious how greatly reforms were needed ; but the truth was this, that a reluctance to accept dogmatic teaching through the medium of any body of men was at the bottom of all: and had certain reforms l)(:en carried out at Rome, in all human probal^ility, the Reformation would only have been 1852.] Private yudgment 103 postponed, not prevented. Neander attributes, of course, all previous opposition to Catholic teaching (which up to the time of the Reformation was instantly anathematised as heresy,) as manifestations of the same tendency of the human mind. There are many ways of putting the difficulty, but I see only one way of answering it, and that is (as I said in my last letter) and must be a practical answer. We can't say ' It is right to do what your heart and conscience do not assent to, because it is commanded by a voice you ought to recognise ;' it would be a very fearful responsibility to incur. We can't say ' Your own heart and conscience and good sense will be sufficient guide for you ;' but to give an argumentative logical answer to the people who choose to maintain either the one or the other, I don't conceive to be possible. As a matter of fact, both parties do employ, the one their private judgment, the other, that principle which, call it tradition, experience, or what you will, has a practical effect upon everybody. What is respect for the law among masses of men, but a recognition of this principle ? They act as if they could tell you in so many words that freedom is not license ; that license is interference with the liberty of others ; that freedom consists in being allowed to do everything that is right and good, but consistent with the welfare of one's neighbours ; that there is more real freedom in England, where you are im- prisoned for stealing, than in California, where you may stab a man with impunity. Now, if freedom must secure the liberty of each Individual, It is plain that no individual can settle for himself what this free- dom is to be, for there would always be a fearof his en- croaching upon his neighbour's liberty ; consequently the whole collective body must decide it, must make laws which secure universal acceptance, must provide I04 Lif'^ of yoJin Coleridge Patteson [Ch. iv. for their being carried out. The idea of freedom is inseparable from that of law. How great Hooker is upon this theme ! I don't know enough of him to observe how he applies all this to the Christian freedom and the liberty of the will. The difficulty must be, of course, in finding an analogy between something tangible and something unseen, incapable of being coerced, though the passing into the overt act can be made culpable ; but I think there must be some such analogy. This way of approaching the subject has occurred to me as I wrote, and shows the advantage of trying to work out one's thoughts on paper ; but it is very vague, I know. (Aug. 6, Sunday). You express much of what lies at the root of the whole matter by saying that our Lord intended there should be a ministry ' emanating from Him,' not elected by the mass, &c. I like that expression very much, it sets one's thoughts in the right direction at once, and involves a truth that must never be lost sight of. Neander would, I think, sa}' here that he quite agreed with you, but that he extended the application of the words to all Chris- tians. He is very orthodox upon the necessity of union with Christ as the only source of good and happiness, and would view every system that did not profess to emanate from Him as radically wrong. I think his fallacy lies in the view he takes of Church government in the Apostolic age, which he of course considers a pattern for all succeeding time, but a pattern which was (according to him) very soon c«)v, without anything more than a civil right (as it were) of presiding beine attached to their office. In fact, he frames Church polity by the same ideas and rules of neces- sary precedency and subordination by which human society exists. This could only be done by break- ing off sharply and abruptly the connection between the Apostles and the next (in time) of Christian err/- (Txrjirrji. Accordingly, he says that the Apostles stood in such a relation towards the Christian community as corresponded to their position alone in the development of the Church, and which, therefore, could not be passed on to any other office, since they alone were the bearers of the Word and Spirit of Christ for all centuries, the witnessess of His personal appearance upon earth. His works. His resurrection in a new and higlicr form of existence — tlie necessary members through which the whole Church was connected with Christ. His idea of a Christian community then will be this : a congre- gation of pcoi)lc, all inheriting by their equal partici- pation in Christ's work, and all capable of exercising the same privileges, yet, for tlie sake of order, and because natural gifts and (|ualilies fit certain men aljove otliers for certain (hilics, adiniltin*'" a subordi- 1852.] Neaiidcr 107 nation of some and precedency of others, without, however, any distinction of spiritual office, &c. Now, in any case, it appears useful to see what he can say for this view ; and if a man of acknowledged great learning, industry, and intellectual power can be accepted as the representative of these views, I don't know where a more perfect specimen in modern days than Neander is to be found, and this is the very view that Dissent of all denominations has adopted in England ; and a careful analysis of Neander's work would arm one well, I think, on this one point. I doubt if I ever shall have to argue with an opponent of a hundredth part of this man's power. The simply historical parts of his works are invaluable — such great research and really almost inconceivable knowledge ; and, what is more than all, he possessed the great gift of a wide, broad view of his subject so as to observe the rela- tive bearings and importance of events exhibiting themselves in masses and extending over centuries, not measuring the course of the Church or the world by simple acts and dates. To this he united a strong common sense and sound judgment. He was in no sense a mere theorist ; and if you consider that he was originally a Jew, and had felt in his own experience what a sad, hopeless religion that must now be, it is not to be wondered at if in his emancipation from the bondage of the Law, he a little overstepped the liberty of the Gospel. He exhibits in his own person the passage from the one to the other of Divinely revealed forms of re- ligion ; but it took centuries to develope and fix the proper points of opposition between them in the Church's history. Did I tell you of my interview with Dr. Harlem io8 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [ch. iv. in my last letter ? He is the leading man in Saxony. I sat with him twenty minutes, and spoke on these matters ; among other things, he assured me that the reaction from scepticism was so strong that Jiis difficulty is to prevent people from falling back too much upon what he considers mere traditional belief, and yet he is held to be a high Lutheran. I ventured to tell him that I liked Neander's historical and scientific works much better than his exegetical treatises, e.g. his ' Life of Jesus ' and ' History of the Planting of the Church,' and he said, with great warmth, * I am delighted to hear you say that.' It was so far a sign to me that I had taken on this point the right view of what Neander meant to teach ; but I don't expect ever to be able to sound the depth of his reasons. Experience in religious questions — not mental acuteness, is the only way to do this. . . . The German papers had no room for more than the election news from England, as far as I have seen, and certain political questions between us and America about the fisheries. I hardly think that triple alliance against the assumption of an heredi- tary throne by Louis Napoleon can be true — I read it in a German paper, copied from the ' Morning Chronicle.' I saw yesterday an article and a state- ment in the ' Times ' about the different views taken by the Law Commissioners and the Society for Reforming the Law with respect to proposed alterations. The abolition of Masters in Chancery, I supjjosc, is all very well ; but I was very sorry to see that the Law Reform Society go beyond the Commissioners in their suggestions, with respect to the abolition ol special pleading, doing away with the distinctions of Law and lujuity, and as it 1852.] Learning Hebi^eiv 109 seemed to me, wishing to interfere very much with the existing principle of deciding as much as pos- sible upon each case by referring to precedents ; in a word, by wishing to introduce 's method on the Bench, and to upset the whole fabric of the Law, with the Bar, Bench, and solicitors, and special pleaders at once. These suggestions seem to pro- ceed from the assumption that Common Law contra- dicts in its practice common sense, which I know, from what you have said, is nonsense. Every person is more secure now, when the technicalities are all understood. Certain forms must be adopted, and by the time every conceivable construction of which they are capable has been tested in innumer- able actions and man's invention is completely ex- hausted, they will be just as much knocked about and look as strange to the uninitiated as the forms already in use. But I am a fine fellow to meddle with this matter. . . . Ever your affectionate and dutiful Son, J. Coleridge Patteson. Almost at the same time as this long and argumen- tative letter was sent, Coley wrote to his eldest sister. * The weather has been better suited for work, and I feel pretty well satisfied with my Hebrew. What makes it so difficult is principally this, that as it is an Oriental language, it is entirely different in structure, and in its inflections, &c., from any language I ever came across. I can't fall back upon anything already learnt to help me ; but I see my way pretty clear now, and shall soon have little more than a knowledo^e of the meanins^ of the words to learn, which is only a matter of patience, and can be learnt with a good dictionary and practice. A no Life of Johii Coleridge Patteson [ch. iv, real complete knowledge of the grammar is of course the great thing. I was so lucky about buying my grammar. Schier, who gives me Hebrew lessons three times a week (he said I did not want any more German, which is in one sense true, but I don't speak as well as this may seem to intimate from want of daily practice), told me that Rodiger's edition of Gesenius's Grammar was far the most perfect thing to be had, only it cost 9^-. in German and from 15^. to i/. in the English translation of it ; which was yesterday confirmed by an Englishman, as far as the price of the translation is concerned. What do you think of my coming across an uncut copy of the last edition for is. 6d. ? I suppose the man did not know the value of it, or else must have become possessed of it in some unusual way. I tried to get another copy to give Schier, but can't find one anywhere. Mine is the German edition, which I prefer, as everything must suffer by being translated, and it is admirable and quite interesting to read, and giving a good, almost philosophical, reason for everything. The author is about the greatest Hebrew scholar of modern times, and a great philologist, so that one can feel sure that what he says is correct, and in fact it is the text book from which all other grammars are compiled. The great Dresden fair, called the Vogelschiesser, is going on, it began last Sunday and ends next Sunday. About half a mile from the town there is a very large meadow by the river, where a small town of booths, tents, &c., is erected, and where shoot- ing at targets willi wooden darts, sham railway- trains and riding-liorscs, confectionary of every kind, beer of every name, strength and colour, pipes, cigars, toys, gambling, organ grinding, fiddling, 1852.] Dresden Fair 1 1 1 dancing, &c., goes on incessantly. The great attraction, however, is the shooting at the bird, which occupies the attention of every Saxon, and is looked upon as the consummation of human invention and physical science. A great pole, nearly 80 feet high, is erected with a wooden bird, about the size of a turkey, at the top ; to hit this with a crossbow from a regular stand, about 50 feet from the foot of the pole, is the highest ambition of this great people. The accompaniments are rich in the extreme : cannon firing, drums rolling, for a successful shot, the shooting society, who exist only for the sole honour and glory of hacking this bird to pieces, the presence of the king, I think to-day, and the intense interest taken in the amusement by the whole population ; certainly the Germans are satisfied with less than any people I ever saw (barring two things, smoke and beer, in which they are insatiable). I went out to see it all, but it rather bored me after an hour or so. Tom F and I threw some dice for a pair of braces for Arthur, which we presented in due form ; and we had some shots at the targets — mine were eminently unsuccessful. Last night we had a great treat. Emil Devrient, who has been acting in London, you know, came back, and acted Marquis Posa in ' Don Carlos.' The play acts very much better than it reads. Schiller cer- tainly has great dramatic genius ; only I agree with Goethe that there is always a longing for exhibiting cruelty in its most monstrous form, and refinement of cruelty aud depravity overstepping almost the natural conditions of humanity. I always thought I ago about the most awful character in Shakspeare ; but Schiller's Philip IL is something beyond even this, without perhaps so much necessity for the exhi- 112 Life of yohn Coleridge Pattesoii [Ch. iv. bition of this absolute delight in evil. It is long since I have been so excited in a theatre. I was three rows from the stage, heard and understood every- thing, and was so completely carried away by the grandeur and intense feeling of Devrient (who was well supported by the Don Carlos), that I had some difficulty to keep quiet, and feel to-day rather odd, shaken, as it were, from such a strain upon the feelings. The Princess Eboli is to me utterly un- feminine in act 2, scene 8, and something worse than I like to think people may be in scenes 9 and 10. I don't like her character. People make out fine plots as the result of slighted love and jealousy, but here the resolution is so sudden, so horrible. The Queen is, how- ever, a beautiful creature. The whole of act 3, scene 10 is fine. Goethe makes Egmont speak the same noble sentiments of liberty and patriotism, but Goethe injures Egmont sadly by introducing that side of his character which connects him with Clarchen. Posa is all that Egmont is, without his moral failings. Of course neither of them is Christian ; they are great Romans, Even a decent lie, in order to cast sus- picion upon oneself and to bring death on oneself, to save a friend, is looked upon as the consummation of legitimate noble self devotion : it would be probably to a heathen. The whole of act 4, scenes 16, 17, was magnificently acted by Devrient. Then, after he had resolved to die, in order that Carlos may live, and be a blessing to his kingdom and Flanders and the world, his solemn, quiet, almost awful composure, the fixedness of purpose, were admirably worked out : scene 21, Here, too, some of the poetry is fine, e.g. Zvvci kurzc Abcndstunden hingegcljen Um cincn hcllca Sommcrtag zu rcttcn. But here, I must allow, his niorality takes a very bad \ 1852.] Learning Arabic 113 turn, I wish I had continued to overlook it. The touch of real feeling at the end, 'das Lcbcn ist dock scJion' is, I think, good and true. Through the fifth act to his death, he was very great ; and I went away quite excited and delighted. Here is a letter, enclosed within one to his sister Fanny on September 9, written on a scrap of paper. The apologetic tone of confession is amusing. My dearest Father, — I have not before told you that I have been at work for just three weeks upon a new subject ; reading, however, Hebrew every day almost for three hours as well. Schier is not a great Hebraist ; and I found the language in one sense easier than I expected, so that with good grammar and dictionary I can quite get on by myself, reading an easy part of the Bible (historical books, e.g)) at the rate of about twenty-five verses an hour. Well, I began to think that I ought to use the oppor- tunities that Dresden affords. I know that Hebrew is not a rich language ; that many words occur only once, and consequently have an arbitrary meaning attached to them, unless they can be illustrated from cognate languages. Now I have a taste for these things, and have in three weeks progressed so far in my new study as to feel sure I shall make it useful ; and so I tell you without fear I am working at Arabic. I hope you won't think it silly. It is very hard, and for ten days was as hard work as I ever had in my life. I think I have learnt enough to see my way now, and this morning read the first chapter of Genesis in three-quarters of an hour. It is rich, beyond all comparison, in inflexions ; and the difficulty arises from the extreme multiplicity of all its forms : e.g., each verb having not only active, middle, and I. I 114 ■ Life of yohn Coleridge Patteson [Ch. iv. passive voices, but the primitive active having not less than thirty-five derivative forms and the passive thirteen. The ' noun of action,' — infinitive with article {fh (x-nauziv) of the Greek — is again different for each voice or form ; and the primitive can take any of twenty-two forms, which are not compounded according to any rule. Again, there are twenty- eight sets of irregular plurals, which are quite arbitrary. No grammarian has ever given any ex- planation about them. All mere matters of memory. The very alphabet shows the richness of the lan- guage. There are twenty-nine letters, besides vowel points ; and each letter is written in four different ways, so that it is different when isolated, when in the beginning, middle, or end of a word. It took me some hours to learn them. In very many respects, it is closely allied to the Hebrew, so that everybody who writes Hebrew grammars and lexicons necessarily has much to do with Arabic ; and a knowledge of it may be of great use in clearing up difficulties in the Bible, My year in Oxford will enable me to go on with it, for in three weeks more I hope to be able to go on alone. To-morrow I begin the Koran. My lessons from Schier, who is great really in this line, has written a first-rate grammar, and studied it all his life, cost only li". dd. an hour, and I have been lucky in getting the lexicon for \^s. which in England is very rare and very dear. In the Bodleian I shall find, of course, all I want. I am in treaty now for a copy of the Koran for q.s'. Schier was some years in England, and knows the value of these books there ; and I only buy these two because I want to use them here, and know they are cheap. My lessons will noL in all exceed 3/. ; and I really should have 1852.] The Means not the End 115 gone on, perhaps not much faster with Hebrew if I had worked it exclusively ; and it is hard to read so many hours at one thing : and I may say, now without doubt, that I have laid the foundation for a study of Oriental languages, if I have time and opportunity that may be fairly given to them. Think what one hour a day is, and the pleasure to me is very great, and I feel that I have a knack rather (if I may say so) of laying hold of these things. Dont mention it to anyone. There the fragment breaks off; and in a letter of August 29, there occurs this reply to a message from his eldest sister : — ' Thank dear Joan for her caution : I know I need it sadly, especially now when I am at work upon somewhat out-of-the-way subjects, and feel the danger of forgetting that if I mistake the means for the end, and feel gratified with the mere intellectual amusement, I am doing very wrong, even when I am working very had at very difficult matters. I like these things, I must confess, and the time is so well adapted to work here, and now that the weather is cool I can secure every day a good long time to myself.' In the enclosed letter he announces that he shall leave Dresden in another three weeks. He says : — ' We have had a steady working time of it here ; and as I know some members of the family rather dis- courage these continental flights, I just sum up the advantages thereof. Being natvirally endowed with a love of music, the probability is, that when you, Clara, and Miss Horsley are together in the house, as soon as a Lied or Sonata began, away would go I 2 1 16 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. IV. my books, or at all events my thoughts. You know- well that the piano goes at all hours, and always in the morning at home. Then riding, walking with Father, long sitting after dinner, &c. do not improve the chances for reading. In fact, you know that what with visitors from without, friends within, parties, &c., I should have had very little reading in the vacation, and that not through my own fault — not a Stilbche7i in the house could protect me from music. Here I make my own time, and last week my eyes were troublesome. I walked twice every day, exactly at the hour when I most wanted it ; and without nonsense, I may say that I have in two months done really a great deal more than I could have done at home even with masters. This all applies to Arthur just as much. He has read German exclusively most of the time, and knows as well as I do that it is not possible to work at home. If I could go on just as well as with Mendelssohn ringing in my ears, it would be different, but I can't. You remember how pleasant, but how very idle, last vacation was, and especially the last six weeks of it ! ' Then, after much about family matters, commissions, and little gifts which he was collecting for all at home — ' I should like to get something for everybody, but that is not possible. Luckily, my lessons are less expensive than I expected, and, considering the work, wonderfully cheap. I make good progress, I can say ; but the difficulty is great enough to dis- courage any but a real "grinder" at such work. I have written a scrap for Father, and you will see that I am working away pretty well. I have finished my 1852.] Apologies for Eastern Languages 117 introductory book, consisting of forty-one fables ; and though difficulties present themselves always to really good scholars from time to time, the Bible is not one of the hardest books, not so hard, e.g. as the Koran. Now I can at any future time, if the oppor- tunity comes, go on with these things, and I hope find them really useful. I know you like to hear what I am doing ; but be sure to keep it all quiet, let no one know but Father and Joan. You might care- lessly tell it to anyone in fun, and I don't wish it to be known. Especially don't let any of the family know. Time enough if I live out my Oxford year, and have really mastered the matter pretty well. Remember this is taken up with a view to elucidate and explain what is so very hard in Hebrew. Hebrew is to be the Hauptsache, this the Hiilfs- mittel, or some day I hope one of several such helps. It is very important to accustom one's mind to the Denk- 2Sidi AnscJianungswerk of the Orientals, which is so different from that of Europeans or their lan- guage. How hard are the metaphors of the Bible for this reason ! ' There is something in all these long apologies and strenuous desire for secrecy about these Arabic studies that reminds one that the character was a self- conscious introspective one, always striving for hu- mility, and dreading to be thought presumptuous. A simpler nature, if devoid of craving for home sympathy, would never have mentioned the new study at all ; or if equally open-hearted, would have let the mention of it amonor home friends take its chance, without o troubling himself as to their possible comments. In- deed, it is curious to observe how elaborate he was at this period about all his concerns, meditating over the ii8 Life of John Coleridge Pattesoii [Ch, iv, cause of whatever affected him. It was a form of growth ; and dropped off when the time of action arrived, and his character had shaped itseff. It must be remembered, too, that his habit of pouring out all his reflections and feelings to his sisters, and their pre- servation of his letters, have left much more on record of these personal speculations than is common. His father made a much simpler matter of the Arabic matter, in the following characteristic letter : — Feniton Court : September 14, 1852. My dearest Coley, — So far from thinking you wrong in learning Arabic, I feel sure that you are quite right. However, we shall keep your secret, and not say anything about it. I am heartily glad that you should acquire languages, modern as well as ancient. You know I have often pressed the former on your and Jem's notice, from myself feeling my deficiency and reeret at it. I can well understand that Arabic, and I should suppose Syriac also, must be of the greatest use towards a true understanding of much of the Old Testament : a great deal of which is doubtless not understood by those who under- stand only our translation, or even the Septuagint, which I suspect to have many passages far from a faithful vehicle of the meaning of the original. I was greatly delighted with your theological letter, so to speak, as well as with the first, and look to have some jolly conversations with you on such sub- jects. . . . Wc have many more partridges than our neigh- bours, and Jem shoots uncommonly well. Three double shots yesterday. I shoot worse than usual ; and cannot walk without mucli fatigue and frequent pain, so that I shall not be- aljle to work enough to 1852.] Intended RetiLvu of Bishop Broiighton 1 19 get much sport I got through the Mary Church affair very well — that is, not making a fool of myself — and if I did not do much good, I think I did no harm. The Bishop of Exeter^ is mightily pleased, and wrote me a letter to that effect. Of course I cannot tell you what I said, it would be too long, nor are you likely to see it. It was fully in- serted in ' Woolmer,' and from him copied into the ' Guardian.' . . . The Bishop of Sydney'^ is coming home to endeavour to arrange something as to their Synodical meetings and Church government in the Colonies, and hoping that it may be connected with something of the kind at home. Whenever he comes I shall give him the meeting, to try to be of any use I can in that quarter. He refers to me for a solution of some difficulty he has felt about ad- ministering the Oath of Supremacy, or rather. Abju- ration, at the time of Ordaining, in consequence of the late Act against Ecclesiastical Titles by the Papists not saying anything touching the Colonies, and so he fancies that whatever is by that Act pro- hibited in England and Ireland only, is implicitly authorised in the Colonies from the silence of the Act as to them. I answered the objection through Uncle Edward ; but it cannot have reached him before he started from home, showing that the inference is incorrect, and these matters remain with regard to Popery in the Colonies precisely in the same state as they were before the passing of the late Act, and not affected by it. I live in hopes to see you well and hearty at Oxford on the 14th of October, till when, adieu. God bless you, Your affectionate Father, J. Patteson. ' Dr. Henry Philpotts. ^ Bishop Broughton. t20 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [ch. I v. The interview with the Bishop of Sydney never took place, for the excellent Bishop Broughton arrived with health shattered by his attendance on the sufferers from fever in the ship which brought him from St. Thomas, and he did not long survive his landing. The ' Mary Church affair' here referred to was the laying the foundation-stone of the Church, built or restored, it is hard to say which, on the lines of the former one, and preserving the old tower, at St. Mary Church, near Torquay. Though the death of the Rev. G. M. Coleridge had broken one tie with the place, it continued to be much beloved by the Patteson family, and Sir John had taken so much share in the Church building work as to be asked to be the layer of the corner stone. The speech he made at the ensuing luncheon excited much attention ; and the sisters took care that their brother should not miss reading it. The stay at Dresden was drawing to an end ; and he was preparing to return through Berlin, intending to go direct to Oxford and reside there till the summer, when he meant to seek ordination and enter on the Curacy at Alfington. He says to his sister Joanna : ' It is a long time to pass without seeing you, but I hope, if it please God that we all live on together, that it will be long before such another interval occurs. I have not grown out of an occasional fit of home sickness yet ; and on these occasions Arthur and I talk incessantly about domestic matters, and indul.L^c. our fancies in conjecturing what you are all doing, and so forth. I followed Joan and Clara's trip, step by step, from the Den at Teignmouth to St. Mary Church, Oddiscombe, Babbicombe, Anstcy's Cave, Meadfoot, &c. How I remember every inch of the dear old places ! Better than the 1852.] Si?^ y. Pattesoiis Speech at Maij CJnirch T2I mud banks at Felixstowe, are they not, Clara ? I shall keep always the scrap from the ' Guardian ' with Father's speech. I don't think I remember any speech on a similar occasion so thoroughly good, and so likely to do good. Plain, sensible, and manly, no question of words and unimportant differences of opinion ; no cant, high or low, just like himself I pray I may have but a tenth part of his honesty and freedom from prejudice and party spirit. It may come, under God's blessing, if a man's mind is earnestly set on the truth ; but the danger is of setting up your own exclusive standard of truth, moral and intellectual. Father certainly is more free from it than any man we ever knew. He tells me in his letter that the Bishop of Sydney is coming home to consult people in Eng- land about Synodical Action, &c., and that he is going to meet him and explain to him certain diffi- culties and mistakes into which he has fallen with regard to administering the Oath of Abjuration and the like matters. How few people, comparatively, know the influence Father exercises in this way behind the scenes, as it were. His intimacy with so many of the Bishops, too, makes his position really of very great importance. I don't want to magnify, but the more I think of him, and know how very few men they are that command such general respect, and bear such a character with all men for upright- ness and singleness of purpose, it is very difficult to know how his place could be supplied when we throw his legal knowledge over and above into the scale. I hope he will write : I am quite certain that his opinion will exercise a great influence on very many people. Such a speech as this at Mar}' Church embodies exactly the sense of a considerable 122 Life of yohn Colci'idgc Pattesoii [Ch. iv. number of the most prudent and most able men of the country, and his position and character give it extra weight, and that would be so equally with his book as with his speech. How delightful it will be to have him at Oxford. He means to come in time for dinner on the 14th, and go away on the i6th ; but if he likes it, he will, I daresay, stop now and then on his way to town and back. Jem will not be back in town when he goes up for the Judicial Committee work, so he will be rather solitary there, Vv^on't he. I am not, however, sure about the number of weeks Jem must reside to keep his term. . . .' The enjoyment of the last few days at Dresden was much marred by a heavy cold, caught by going to see an admirable representation of ' Egmont,' the last of these theatrical treats so highly appreciated. The journey to Berlin, before the cold was shaken off, resulted in an attack of illness ; and he was so heavy and uncomfortable as to be unable to avail himself of his opportunities of interesting introductions. He returned to his rooms at Merton direct from Germany. Like many men who have come back to Oxford at a riper age than that of undergraduate life, he now entered into the higher privileges and enjoyments of the University, the studies, friendships, and influences, as early youth sometimes fails to do. He was felt by his Oxford friends to have greatly developed since his Balliol terms had been over and the Eton boy left behind. Study was no longer a toil and conscientious effort. It had become a prime pleasure ; and men wondered to find the plodding, accurate, but unciuhusiastic student of three years back, a linguist and phiJok^gist of no common power and attainment. Mr. Roundell says ' He had become 1852.] Election of \'i^T) 123 quite another person. Self-cultivation had done much for him. Literature and art had opened his mind and enlarged his interests and sympathies. The moral and spiritual forces of the man were now vivified, refined and strengthened by the awakening of his intellectual and aesthetic nature.' Ever reaching forward, however, he was on his guard against, as he said, making the means the end. Lan- guages were his pleasure, but a pleasure held in check as only subservient to his preparation for the Ministry. He did not mean to use them to the acquirement of academical honour nor promotion, nor did he even rest in the intellectual delight of investigation ; he in- tended them only as keys to the better appreciation of the Scriptures and of the doctrines of the Church, unaware as yet that the gift he was cultivating would be of inestimable value in far distant regions. At the University election of 1853, when Mr. Glad- stone, having alarmed a large proportion of his suppor- ters at Oxford by his tendencies towards change, was opposed by Mr. Perceval, Coley sent constant accounts of the poll, but interspersed with observations on a sermon of Dr. Pusey's, thus : — Monday 7.30 P.M. My dearest Father, — Gladstone's majority is only 124 this evening, Perceval having polled some twelve men in the day. People say it is a mere farce keeping the poll open. Squibs, &c., go about, but not one of them worth the carriage. Dr. Pusey preached yesterday morning, rather a relief after friend . He must have been preaching nearly, if not quite, an hour and a half ; at least he began soon after 10.30, and I was not back here till 12.15. He preached upon i Cor. x. 16 : not a difficult sermon to follow, though doctrinal throughout, with 124 Z.?_7t' of John Coleridge Patteson [ch. I v. the exception of some five minutes plain spoken, and very beautiful words of advice to his ' younger brethren.' The subject, however, is comparatively so familiar that it was easy to understand him. I hope he will print It, for it would be most valuable as a collection of witnesses to the truth of the Real Sacramental Presence. After propounding the plain orthodox teaching in contradistinction to Rome and Geneva — I will finish to-morrow. Post going. J. C. P. ' I was talking about Dr. P.'s sermon, and I think had just said that after exposing the errors of Rome and Geneva, he discussed at great length the question of the literal or non-literal interpretation of the words " This is my Body." This part of the sermon was very interesting, not only did he supply many new arguments for the literal interpretation of this particular passage, but for the guidance of people in the interpretation of Scripture generally. Then he discussed the question which, in spite of its manifest absurdity, is often put, (and which I suppose he therefore thought worth discussing) as to whether even in the most momentous sentence of Holy Scripture the whole truth is necessarily conveyed in an insulated passage, (just as Mr. wants always, according to E. , one text to prove a doctrine, not knowing, I suppose, that our Lord did not teach in a dogmatic form). Then he said, " I will sliow that the doctrine has been taught by the united voice of the whole Church, from the time of the Apostles to that of St. Leo, and to this end I will quote from P'athers of every Church, every age, every form of ()])ini()ii ;" which he did to the number of fifty ! I hop(; to see the sermon soon in print, J 853] His Brothers Accident 125 when you shall have a copy. You remember that he was suspended for his sermon on the same subject, which is bound up among the pamphlets at home.' The letter ends with a report of the poll ; and on Thursday he writes, ' The poll closed with Gladstone, 1022, Perceval, 898.' And then proceeds to his great delight in receiving his uncle, Dr. Coleridge, who had come up to give his vote In February, while Sir John Patteson was in London, his son James was the cause of much alarm, owing to a mistake by which he swallowed an embrocation containing a large amount of laudanum. Prompt measures, however, prevented any ill effects ; and all danger was over before the letter was sent off which informed Coley of what had happened ; but the bare idea of the peril was a great shock to one of such warm affections, and so deeply attached to his only brother. He wrote the two following letters to his Father and sisters on the first impulse on the receipt of the intelligence : — Shrove Tuesday. My dearest Father, — I believe I speak truly when I say that I never in my life felt so thoroughly thankful and grateful to God for his great mercy, as I did this morning, on reading of dear Jem's danger and safety. He is less accustomed to talk about his feelings than I am, in which I see his superiority, but partly because our tastes are in several respects different, chiefly because of his exceeding amiability and unselfish- ness. I am sure we love each other very dearly. Ever since his illness at Geneva, I have from time to time contemplated the utter blank, the real feeling of loss, which anything happening to him would bring with it, and the having it brought home close to me in this way quite upset me, as it well 126 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. iv. might. I pray God that no ill effects may follow, and from what you say, I apprehend none. I have often thought that it is much better when two brothers propose to themselves different objects in life, and pursue them with tastes dissimilar on un- important matters. They act better upon one another ; just as I look to Jem, as I have more than once told him, to give me a hint when he sees a want of common sense in anything I take up, because I know I act a good deal from impulse, and take an interest in many things which are perhaps not worth the time I spend on them. It is a mercy that I hope I shall never forget, never cease to be thankful for. Many and many a time, if it please God, I shall look to him in difficulties, and remember how nearly once he was lost to me. I can get away with the greatest ease for a few days on Thursday if desir- able, and perhaps old Jem will feel low after this, when you have left him. I think this very likely, from what I know of him, and if you think it too, without asking him if he would like it, I will come up for some other reason. You will not go, I know unless he is perfectly well ; but he might, and I think would, like to have some one with him just at first. Let me know what you think. Good-bye, my dearest Father, Ever your affectionate and dutiful Son, J. C. Patteson. Merton : Shrove Tuesday. My dearest Joan and Fan, — How we must all have united this morning in pouring out our thanks to God for Ills great mercy! You will not suspect me of being wanting in love to you, if I say that the contemplation of wliat might have,' happened pre- 1S53.] Thankfulness 127 sented such a scene of desolation, such a void, that it would have required all the strength I possess to turn to God in resignation and submission to His will. I have often, very often, thought of that illness at Geneva, but this brought it home to me, perhaps closer still ; and I hope I shall never cease to be mindful of, and thankful for, this special pro- vidence. Father seems pretty confident that all mis- chief is prevented ; and Jem wrote six hours after he took the laudanum, and had then felt no drowsiness to speak of, and Dr. Watson said there was no fear of anything happening after hvo hours had elapsed. I should like to join with you in showing our grati- tude by some deed of charity, or whatever you think right. Something that without any show might be a thank-offering to God for His signal act of mercy. Ever your loving Brother, J. C. Patteson. 5.30. I wrote this quite early this morning. I can hardly think yet what it all means. Now I feel only a sense of some very heavy affliction removed. Poor dear Father, and all of us ! what should we have been without him ! A letter to the brother himself was written under the same impulse, even more tenderly affectionate, but so deep and intimate, that it would almost be treason to give it to the world. The next letter was written soon after the alarm had passed, but is undated. My dear Fan, — Yesterday I was unluckily too seedy with headache to go on the ice, and this morning I have been skating for half an hour, but the ice is spoilt. Very jolly it is to be twisting and turning about once more. I thought of writing to old Jem to come down for it, as I should think the frost is 128 Life of Jo Jul Coleridge Pattcsoii [Ch. iv. not severe enough to freeze any but the shallow water of the floods, but It was not good enough to reward him for the trouble of coming so far. The constant sense of his preservation from that great danger really prevents my feeling so acutely per- haps as I ought to do the distress of others. I really think I ought to be less cheerful and happy than I feel myself to be. I had a pleasant little talk with Dr. Pusey on Monday : he was recommending me two or three books for Hebrew reading, but they would be of no use to me yet ; the language is difficult to advance far into, and you know my shallow way of catching a thing at first rather quickly perhaps, but only superficially. I find my interest increasing greatly in philological studies. One language helps another very much ; and the beautiful way in which the words, ideas, and the whole structure indeed, of language pervades whole families, and even the different families, {e.g., the Indo-Germanic and Semitic races,) is not only interesting, but very useful. I wish I had made myself a better Greek and Latin scholar, but unfortunately I used to hate classics. What desperate uphill work it was to read them, a regular exercise of self-denial every morning ! Now I like it beyond any study, except Divinity proper, and I try to make up for lost time. There are ad- mirable books in my possession which facilitate the acquisition of critical scholarship very much, and I work at these, principally applying it to New Test. Greek, LXX, &c. But my real education began, I think, with my first foreign trip. It seems as if there was not time for all this, for I have Hebrew, Arabic, &c., to go on with (though this is a slow process), Pearson, Hooker, 131unt on the Reformation (a mere sketch which I read in a day or two at odd times), 1853.] ^^^ of DisciLssion 129 Commentaries, Trench's Books on Parables and Miracles, which are in my room at home, and would in parts interest you ; he is a writer of good common sense, and a well read man). But I of course want to be reading history as well, and that involves a good deal ; physical geography, geology, &c., yet one thing helps another very much. I don't work quite as methodically as I ought ; and I much want someone to discuss matters with relating to what I read. I don't say all this, I am sure you know, as if I wanted to make out that I am working at grand subjects. I know exceeding little of any one of them, so little history, e.g., that a school girl could expose my ignorance directly, but I like to know what we are doing among ourselves, and we all get to know each other better thereby. I felt so much of late with regard to Jem, that a natural reserve prevents so often mem.bers even of the same family from com- municating freely to each other their opinions, busi- ness, habits of life, experiences of sympathy, approval, disapproval, and the like ; and when one member is gone, then it is felt how much more closely such a habit of dealing with each other would have taught us to know him. . . Nothing tests one's knowledge so well as questions and answers upon what we have read, stating difficulties, arguments which we can't understand, &c., to each other. Ladies who have no profession to prepare for, in spite of a very large correspondence and numerous household duties, may (in addition to their parochial work as curates 1) take up a real course of reading and go into it thoroughly ; and this gives girls not only employment for the time, but gives the mind power to seize every other subject presented to it. If you are quite alone your reading is apt to become desultory. I find it I. K 130 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteso7i [Ch. iv. useful to take once or twice a week a walk with Riddell of Balliol, and go through a certain period of Old Testament history ; it makes me get it up, and then between us we hammer out so many more explanations of difficult passages than, at all events, I should do by myself. He is, moreover, about the best Greek scholar here, which is a great help to me. You have no idea of the light that such accurate scholarship as his throws upon many disputed passages in the Bible, e.g., ' Wisdom is justified of her children,' where the Greek preposition probably gives the key to the whole meaning, and many such. So you see, dear old Fan, that the want of some one to pour out this to, for it sounds fearfully pedantic, I confess, has drawn upon you this grievous in- fliction. My kindest love to Father and dear Joan, Ever your loving J. C. P. The Patteson family were not merely a mutual ad- miration or improvement society, and sometimes these theories were viewed as the unpractical notions of a younger brother. Fanny Patteson seems to have answered him with arguments on the other duties whicli hindered her from enterinof on the course of deep study and mutual exchange of discoveries which he had, more theoretically than practically, been recom- mending, really more to the abstract young lady than to her in particular. He replies : — Feb. 25, 1853. My dearest Viin, — I must answer your very sensible well written letter at once, because on our system of nuitual exj)laiiati()n, there are two or three things I wisli to notice in it. I-'irst, I never meant that any- 1853.] What to Read 13 [ thing should supersede duties which I am well aware you practise with real use to yourself and those about you, e.g., the kindness and sympathy shown to friends, and generally due observance of all social relations. Second, I quite believe that the practical application of what is already known, teaching, going about among the poor, is of far more consequence than the acquisition of knowledge, which, of course, for its own sake is worth nothing. Third, I think you perfectly right in keeping up music, singing, all the common amusements of a country life ; of course I do, for indeed what 1 said did not apply to Joan or you, except so far as this, that we all know probably a great deal of which each one is separately ignorant, and the free communication of this to one another is desirable, I think. My own temptation consists perhaps chiefly in the love of reading for its own sake. I do honestly think that for a considerable time past I have read, I believe, nothing which I do not expect to be of real use, for I have no taste naturally for novels, &c. (without, however, wishing to deny that there may be novels which teach a real insight into character). Barring ' I Profuessi Sposi,' which I take up very seldom when tired, I have not read one for ages : I must except * Old Mortality,' read last Vacation at Feniton ; but I can't deny that I like the study of languages for its own sake, though I apply my little experience in it wholly to the interpretation of the Bible. I like improving my scholarship, it is true, but I can say honestly that it is used to read the Greek Testament with greater accuracy : so of the Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic. I feel, I confess, sometimes that it is nice, &c., to know several languages, but I try to drive away any such thoughts, and it is quite astonishing how, K 2 132 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteson [Ch. iv. after a few weeks a study which would suggest ideas of an unusual course of reading becomes so familiar that I never think of myself when pursuing it, e.g., I don't think that after two hours' grind at Arabic the stupid wrong feeling of its being an out-of-the- way study comes upon me now, it is getting quite natural. It comes out though when I talk or write perhaps with another, but I must try and get over it. I believe it to be a good thing to break off any work once or twice a day in the middle of any reading, for meditating a little while and for prayer. This is more easily done at College than elsewhere ; and, is I hope, a preventive against such thoughts. Then, as I jog on I see how very little I know, what an immense deal I have to learn to become ordinarily well acquainted with these things. I am in that state of mind perhaps when Ecclesiastes (which I am now reading) puts my own case exactly before me. I think, What's the good of it all ? And the answer comes, it may be very good properly used, or very mischievous if abused. I do indeed look forward to active parochial work : I think I shall be very happy so employed, and I often try to anticipate the time in thought, and feel with perfect sincerity that nothing is so useful or so full of comfort as the con- sciousness of trying to fulfil the daily duties of my situation. Here of course I need do nothing ; I mean there is nothing to prevent my sitting all day in an arm-chair and reading ' Pickwick.' . . . One word about the way languages help me, that you may not thmk what I am doing harder than it really is. These three bear the same kind of relation to each other (or rather say these five, Arabic, Syriac, Hebrew, Chaldee, Ethiopic ; but of the last I know nothing 1 853-] Use of Oriental Lang-uages 133 whatever, and of Chaldee only so much as that it Is a dialect of Hebrew in the same character, and con- sequently anyone who knows Hebrew knows some- thing about it), as German to English, e.g., Bahlo^n (Arab,), Becl (Syr.), Baal (Heb.), are the same word, as you can see, only written in different characters, and all mean ' a lord,' so Baal, Beelzebub, or Baalzebeb. Baal Peor, which means, literally, ' the Lord of the ravine,' viz., the idol worshipped at the Pass in the wilderness. Consequently, in reading any one of these languages, the same word keeps on occurring in all ; and the chief use is of course that often a word which occurs only once or twice in Hebrew perhaps is in common use in the others, and so its meaning is fixed. Add to all this, that the Syriac version of the New Testament was made (as all agree) early in the second century, if not at the end of the first, and thus is the very best exponent of the New Testament where the Greek is doubtful ; and the additional fact, that though a mixture of Chaldee and Syriac was the language of Palestine in our Lord's time, yet He certainly sometimes spoke what is now our Syriac (e.g., Talitha cumi, &c.), and the importance of it is appa- rent. Surely to read the language that our Blessed Lord himself used is no small profit, as well as delight. So I think we may each go on in our several pursuits, each helping each, and each trying to do so without a foolish affectation of learninof. My best love to dear Father and Joan, Ever your affectionate Brother, J. C. P. Fenelon has said that in a certain stage of piety there 134 Life of jfoJm Coleridge Patteson [Ch. IV. is much of self, and Coley was evidently in that stage. His own figure was the primary object before his eyes, neither indulged, nor admired, but criticised, repressed, and by his very best efforts thrust aside, whenever he was conscious that his self contemplation was self complacency. Still it was in his nature to behold it, and discuss it, and thus to conquer and outgrow the study in time, while leaving many observations upon self culture and self training, that will no doubt become deeply valued as the result of the practical experience of one who so truly mastered that obtrusive self. The next letter that presents itself is to Mrs. Martyn, undated ; but as he speaks of his brother's perfect re- covery, it must have been written during this February. The following is the conclusion : — * I fear that Bishop Broughton's death will be a sad blow to the Australian Church. I took him to be an older person. The colonial Bishops in his province will hear the news with a heavy heart. We shall see now something of the spirit of the Government by their appointment. Radicalism is certainly rife in Oxford among a small but very clever intellectual set of men, who advance opinions sometimes that I know well to be wrong, but it is not my place, neither have I wit enough, to answer them. Very much depends upon what is done here nozv in the course of a few months. Depend upon it, the question whether the University is to command the respect and sympathy of the country is to be settled now. If we don't show a disposition to reform abuses, to make all our means available for useful and honourable purposes, we shall fall never to rise again. Mcrton is working well, enire nous, with a secret commission, which I may 1853.] Reforms at Mer ton 135 fairly say does credit to the head and heart of the majority of the Fellows.' Accordingly Patteson was one of the most decided workers for the admission of improvements and reduc- tion of abuses within his own College, with which each Oxford foundation was endeavouring to forestall compulsory reformation by a University Commission. Mr. Roundell says : — ' His early years as Fellow of Merton coincided with the period of active reform at Oxford which followed upon the Report of the Commission in 1852. What part did the future Missionary Bishop take in that great movement ? One who worked with him at that time — a time when University reform was as unfashionable as it is now fashionable — well remem- bers. He threw himself into the work with hearty zeal ; he supported every liberal proposal. To his loyal fidelity and solid common sense is largely due the success with which the reform of Merton was carried out. And yet in those first days of College reform the only sure and constant nucleus of the floating Liberal majority consisted of Patteson and one other. Whatever others did, those two were always on the same side. And so, somehow, owing no doubt to the general enlightenment which dis- tinguished the senior Fellows of Merton under the old regime — an enlightenment unquestionably due to the predominance in that College of the lay non-resi- dent element — the new reforming spirit found itself in the ascendency. It is to the honour of Patteson and equally to the honour of the older Fellows of the College at that time, that so great an inroad upon old traditions should have been made with such an entire absence of provocation on the one side or of irrita- 6 Life of John Coleridge Patteso7i [Ch. iv. tion on the other. But Patteson, with all his reform- ing zeal, was also a high-bred gentleman. He remembered what was due to others as well as to himself. His bearing was one of respect for authority, of deference towards those who were his superiors in age. He knew how to differ. He showed towards others the considerate courtesy which others in return so abundantly showed towards him. And this eenerous forbearance of the seniors had its reward. It entailed upon the juniors a reci- procity of respect. It was felt by them at the time to be an additional incentive to moderation, to sobriety, to desistance from extreme views. The result was that the work got done, and what was done left no heartburnings behind. Yet it will be delusive to pretend to claim Bishop Patteson as a Liberal in the political sense of the word. He was no such thing. If anything, his instincts, especially in Church matters, drew him the other way. But those who knew the man, like those who have seen the Ammergau Play, would as soon think of fastening upon that a sectarian character, as of fixing him with party names. His was a catholic mind. What distinguished him was his open- mindedness, his essential goodness, his singleness and simplicity of aim. He was a just man, and singularly free from perturbations of self, of temper, or of nerves. You did not care to ask what he would call himself. You felt what he was, that you wcrc^ in the presence of a man too pure for party, of one in whose presence ordinary party distinctions almost ceased to have a meaning. Such a man could scarcely h(\ on tlic wrong side. Both the purity of his nature and tlie rectitude of his judgment would have k(;pt him straight.' 1853.] '^^^^ Psalms in the Bible and Prayer-book 137 Here is another letter to Mrs. Martyn, answering questions suggested to her by his Biblical studies. Merton : April 27, 1853. My dear Sophy, — I am glad you think Chenn's book worth having. The Prayer-book translation of the Psalms is older than the present Bible translation, no doubt. Our Prayer-book version is taken from the ' Great Bible ' (Tyndale and Coverdale's). We have a Bible of 1578 in the library, wherein the Psalms are word for word the same as in the present Prayer- book version ; but the present version of Psalms in the Bible was made of course in James's time. We have a fine old copy of the 1640 edition. As for the Prayer-book {i.e., the older version), being better than the modern one, it is more difficult for me to answer. Dr. Pusey has never spoken -about it. The present Bible version follows the Hebrew in the margin ; but I think the meaning is better pre- served on the whole in the Prayer-book version, for general use at all events. Often a verse is almost un- intelligible in both : e.g., ex. 3, where the Bible version follows the Hebrew closely, yet without giving a mea- ning I suppose to ninety-nine people out of a hundred. I never had an idea of its meaning till I heard Dr. Pusey on it, and now I don't feel clear about it. It is here, I think, an advantage to translate the original verbatim, instead of giving a loose translation to try to make sense, which often misleads, and never can convey more than the translato7's opinion of the passage. In xlix. 20, the Bible version is per- haps clearer than the Prayer-book, and so one helps the other ; but, for purposes of minute criticism, the marginal notes of the Bible version are useful. Take cxxxvii. 9, the Hebrew reads 'against the rock,' 138 Life of John Coleridge Pattcson [Ch. iv. which the LXX preserve in their translation, for St. Augustine (who did not know Hebrew), makes this characteristic comment (characteristic of the manner in which all persons deal with Scripture who try to understand the wonderful fulness of it) : ' Baby- lon,' says he, ' denotes the kingdom of evil (Rev. xvii. &c.), and the little ones are wicked thoughts, words and deeds, sins of all kinds, which the Christian soldier must trample under foot, but not in his own strength ; he must dash them against the Rock, which is Christ.' You see the literal translation of rock instead of sto7ie, suggests this very beautiful comment. Many persons I know call all such criticism fanciful, and it does require judgment to discriminate sometimes. But we have Scripture authority for connecting the idea of the Rock with Christ. With reference to our present subject, I mean that the Prayer-book version in cxxxvii. 9, wears an histor- ical aspect only (not, however, without something prophetical), Pusey would certainly say that we ought to follow out the uses of particular words in this manner : conf Keble's Sermon on Eucharistical Offices. I don't really feel able to say which I think the best, and if I did, it would only be my own opinion ; for I never heard Dr. Pusey, or any one of conse- quence, as far as I remember, talk about it. I should think they mutually throw light upon each other, and they are both wonderful compositions, for the great beauty of the language, and the general accu- racy of the translation. I wish I could help you about it. I am very sorry to miss you and Pena. To- day is our first really warm day, and I should cer- tainly ])('gin my botanical lectures with my young 1 853-] Leaving Oxford 139 teacher if I was at home. I am so sorry that D. is going away just as I go to Alfington ; I hoped much to have seen a good deal of him. Best love to dear Pena, Ever your affectionate Cousin, J. C. P. Coley remained at Merton until the Long Vacation of 1853 ; when his Oxford life terminated, though not his connection with the University, for he retained his Fellowship until his death, and the friendships he had formed both at Balliol and Merton remained unbroken. 140 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. v. CHAPTER V. THE CURACY AT ALFINGTON 1853-1855 Preparation for ordination had become Patteson's immediate object. As has been already said, his work was marked out. There was a hamlet of the parish of Ottery St. Mary, at a considerable distance from the church and town, and named Alfington.^ Some time previously, the family of Sir John Ken- naway had provided the place with a school, which afterwards passed into the hands of Mr. Justice Cole- ridge, who, in 1849, there built the small church of St. James, with parsonage, school, and house, on a rising ground overlooking the valley of Honiton, almost imme- diately opposite to P^eniton ; and, at the same time, took on himself the expenses of the curacy and school, for the vicar of the parish, the Rev. Dr. Cornish, for- merly master of Ottery School. The first curate of Alfington was Judge Coleridge's son Henry, the well-known author of the beautiful Life of St. Francis Xavier. On his leaving our communion, it was his father's wish that Coleridge Patteson should take the cure ; and, until his ordination, it was com- mitted temporarily to other hands, in especial to the Rev. Henry Gardiner, who was much beloved there. In the spring of 1853, he had a long and dangerous illness, wlien Coley came to nurse him, and became so much attached to him, that his influence and uncon- ' This spelling is adopted to distinguish it from another Alphington, nearer Exeter. 1 853-] Work at Aljingtoti 141 scious training became of great importance. The church was served by such clerical friends as could give their assistance on Sunday, and the pastoral care, attention to the school, cottage visiting, &c., became the employment of the candidate for Holy Orders, who thus began his work under the direction of his disabled friend. A letter to his sister shows how he plunged into the drudgery of the parish, doing that which always cost him most, namely, administering rebukes ; so that it was no wonder that he wrote with a sort of elation at having lashed himself up to the point of giving a thorough warning. Feniton : July 19, 1853. My dearest Fan, — I am going to Thorverton to-day to stay till Thursday. Gardiner came downstairs on Sunday, and again yesterday, and is making very rapid strides towards perfect recovery. He even went out yesterday for a few minutes. So I don't mind leaving him in the least ; and indeed he is going to Sidmouth himself, probably at the end of the week, I have, seen him every day without one exception, and have learnt a very great deal from him. He has studied very closely school work, condition of the labourer, boys' homes, best method of dispensing charity, &c. and on all these points his advice has been really invaluable. I feel now that I am quite to all intents working the district. Peo- ple ask me about their children coming to school. I know almost all the people in the village, and a good • many out of it, and begin to understand, in a very small way, what a clergyman's life is. A mixture of sorrow and pleasure indeed ! There are many very sad cases of hypocrisy, hlthiness, and wickedness (as 142 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteson [Ch. v. I suppose there are in every district) ; and yesterday I had a very hard-working and in one case most painful day. Some people had asked me to take their boy, three years and a half old, to school — a wretched pair, with a little savage for a son. I said I would speak to Miss Wilkins, and put plainly before her the cha- racter of parents and child. However, she wished to have him, and I knew it was so far well to get the boy away from home. But such a scene ensued ! The boy was really like a little savage ; kicked, dashed his head against the wall, and at length, with his nose bleeding violently, exhausted with his violence, fell asleep. Next day, he is so bad, he is sent home ; when the mother drives him back to school, cursing and swearing, telling Miss Wilkins she may kill him if she pleases ! Unluckily, I was not in school. Yesterday he was in school and more quiet, but did not kneel down at prayers, and seemed like a little beast beginning to be tamed. So, after school, I called him to me, and putting him before my knees asked him some questions very kindly : * Did he know who God was ? Had he never been taught to kneel down and say his prayers ? ' Of course he had not, but it gave me the proper opportunity of speaking to his parents. So having now considered the matter for two or three days previously, having ascertained all the facts about the people, after an hour among some others in the village, I went right into their cottage, and luckily found father and mother and grandmotlicr at home, besides one or two more (who are lodgers) in a room adjoining, with the door open. ' I am come to talk to you about William,' 1 began, whereu[)()n I saw the woman 1 853-] ^ stern Rebuke 143 turn quite red. However, I spoke for about ten minutes slowly and very quietly, without any ap- pearance (as I believe) of anger or passion at all, but yet speaking my mind quite plainly. ' I had no idea any child could be so neglected. Did they suppose the school was a place where any parent might send a child merely to get it out of the way (of course they do, you know, most of them) ? Was it possible that a child could be made good as if by magic there, when it learns nothing but wicked words at home ? Do you think you can or ought to get rid of the duties you owe your child ? Do you suppose that God will not require from you an account of the way you have behaved towards him, you who have never taught him to know who God is, what God is, what is prayer, what is the church, who have taught that little mouth, which God created for praise and blessings, to curse and blaspheme ? I know that many children do and say wicked things, but it is in most cases owing to the neglect of their parents, who do not speak kindly to their children, and do what they can to keep them out of tempta- tion, but this is a different case. Your boy is not fit to come into the company of little Christians ! Awful as it is to think of, he is already, at his early age, the very dread of the parents who live near you.' They had not a word to say, not a syllable beyond the objection which I had already met, that other children were bad too. I did not say what I might have said with truth, because it is only from Gardiner's report, not from my own knowledge — viz., that neither father nor mother ever come to church, and that their house is the centre of evil to the young people of the village. ' Now,' I said, in conclusion, ' I fully meant to send 144 Life of JoJui Coleridge Pattesoji [Ch. v. back your boy, and tell you I would examine him six months hence, to see if he was fit to be brought into the school, but as I do trust he may behave better, and that this may be the means of recovering him from this sad state, I shall take him still, unless he behaves again very badly. But remember this — this is the turning point in the boy's life, and all, humanly speaking, depends on the example you set him. What an awful thing it would be, if it pleased God to take him away from you now, and a fit of measles, scarlatina, or any such illness, may do it any day ! Remember that you are responsible to a very great extent for your child ; that unless it sees you watchful over your thoughts, words, and actions ; unless it sees you regular and devout in prayer at home (I don't believe they ever think of such a thing — God forgive me, if I am wrong) ; unless it sees you habitually in your place in God's house, you are not doing your duty to yourselves or your child, you are not laying up any hope or comfort whatever for the day of your sickness and death. Now I hope you clearly un- derstand me. I have spoken plainly — exactly what I think, and what I mean to act upon. You know now the sort of person you have to deal with. Good morning,' — and thereupon I marched out, amazed at my own pluck, and heartily glad that I had said what I wished, and felt I ought to say. But I need hardly tell you that this left me in a state of no slight excitement, and that I should be much comforted by hearing what you and Father and Joan think of my behaviour. Meanwhile, there arc; some very nice people; I dearly love some of the boys and girls ; and I do pray that this plan of a boys' home may save some from 1853.] Home for Boys 145 contamination. I, seated with Sanders last night, found him and his wife very hearty about it. I have only mentioned it to three people, but I rather wish it to be talked about a little now, that they may be curious, &c., to know exactly what I mean to do. The two cottages, with plenty of room for the Fley's family and eight boys, with half an acre of garden at 11/. 5^-. the year. I shall of course begin with only one or two boys — the thing may not answer at all ; but everyone, Gardiner, several farmers, and two or three others, quite poor, in different places, all say it must work well with • God's blessing. I do not really wish to be scheming away, working a favourite hobby, &c., but I do believe this to be absolutely essential. The profli- gacy and impurity of the poor is beyond all belief. Every mother of a family answers (I mean every honest respectable mother of a family) : ' Oh sir, God will bless such a work, and it is for want of this that so much misery and wretchedness abound.' I believe that for a year or so it will exhaust most of my money, but then it is one of the best uses to which I can apply it ; for my theory is, that help and assistance is wanted in this way, and I would wish to make most of these things self-supporting. Half an acre more of garden, thoroughly well worked, will yield an astonishing return, and I look to Mary as a person of really economical habits. It is a great relief to have poured all this out. It is no easy task that I am preparing for myself I know that I fully expect to be very much disappointed, but I am determined to try it. I am determined to try and make the people see that I am not going to give way to everybody that asks ; but that I am going to set on foot and help on all useful industrial schemes of I. L 146 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. v, every kind, for people of every age. I am hard at work, studying spade husbandry, inspectors' reports of industrial schools, &c. I am glad you are all so happy. I am so busy. Best love to all. Your loving J. C. P. Coley was thus already serving a vigorous appren- ticeship to pastoral work, while preparing himself for receiving Deacon's orders. It was a trying time both to his family and himself, for, as before said, his stan- dard was very high, and his own strong habit of self- contemplation made his dissatisfaction with himself manifest in his manner to those nearest to him. He was always gentle and unselfish ; not showing temper, but unhappiness. Here are letters showing a good deal of his state of mind : the first only dated ' Saturday evening,' but evidently written about this time, in reply to the cautions with which his sister had replied to the above letter of eager plans of improvement. My dearest Fan, — Your letter has just reached me from Honiton, and I have read it with very great interest. I liked it better on a second perusal of it, which showed in itself that I wanted it, for it is quite true that I require to be reminded of the only true principle upon which one ought to work ; and I allow ([uite willingly that I trace interested motives — e.g. love of self-approval or applause in actions where such feelings ought least of all to enter. I certainly did feel pleased with myself for speaking plainly to those people, and I often find myself in- dulging tlie notion that I am going to be a very hard-working clergyman, with a remedy for all the evils of the age, *kc. 1 f I was to hunt about for an excuse, I might pcM'haps find one, by saying that I am 1 853-] Preparation for Ordination 147 in that state of mind which attends always, I suppose, the anticipation of any great crisis in a person's life ; sometimes hard work and hard thought, sometimes (though alas ! very seldom) a real sense of the very awful responsibility of ministering in the Church, sometimes a less natural urging of the mind to con- template and realise this responsibility. I was for some time reading Wilberforce's new book, and this involved an examination of the question in other writers ; but lately I have laid all controversial works aside almost entirely, and have been reading Pearson, Bull, and the Apostolical Fathers, Clement and Ignatius. I shall probably read Justin Martyr's Apologies, and some treatises of Tertullian before next month is over. I have read some part already. There is such a very strong practical element in these very early writings that they ought to soothe and calm the mind ; but I cannot honestly conceal the fact, that the theological interest for the most part outweighs the practical teaching. My light reading is of a new and very amusing and interesting character — viz., books on school economy, management of school farms, allotments, the modern dairy, spade husbandry, agricultural chemistry. K, W, F, C, and G, and I have great talks ; and as they all agree with me, I think them capital judges. I don't think at all that my present state of mind is quite natural. You quite repeat my own words when you say it is transitory. A calm undis- turbed spirit of prayer and peace and contentment is a great gift of God, and to be waited for with patience. The motto of ' The Christian Year ' is very beautiful. I sent the roses on Tuesday. My best love to dear Father and Joan. Ever your loving Brother, L 2 J. C. P. 148 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. V. These words ' love of self-approval ' perfectly ana- lysed that snare of Coley's early life, against which he so endeavoured to guard — not self-conceit, but love of self-approval. The next letter was to his cousin Mrs. Martyn. Feniton Court : September 12, 1853. My dearest Sophy, — Thank you for your kind letters. I find I have much more to do than I expected. My ignorance on very many quite simple matters rather astonished my weak mind, and has done me some good, I hope, in giving my vanity a useful lesson. I really hardly know how to leave my books, and yet I want to see you all again, so I think I shall start for Dawlish to-morrow mornino- and come back with Father on the next day. Possibly during the week of examination I may get away for a day ; I don't know anything yet about the place in which the Ordination is to be held. Father and the girls would like to be there if they could see or hear, but they think the idea of my going to — a good one. I know you all think and pray for me. I do not feel very nervous, but I do not realise the great awful- ness and responsibility of the ministerial commission, and think myself cold and so sadly wanting in earnestness and love. I try to anticipate the time in thought that when the day does come, I may be less agitated ; and I trust that, if it please God, I may feel calm and collected then. My kindest love. I feel very much that my natural place is among you at this time. Ever your affectionate Cousin, J. C. Patteson. So the Ember week drew on, and during it he writes to his cousin. 1S53.] Examinatio7i for Holy Orders 149 Friday, Wallis Lodgings, Exeter : September, 1853. My dear Sophy, — We have had a good examination, I think ; perhaps rather harder than I expected. Wooll- combe and Chancellor Harrington spoke to me this morning, thanking me for my papers, and telling me to read the Gospel at the Ordination. I did feel very nervous last Sunday and Monday, and the Ember Prayer in the morning (when I was at Ottery) fairly upset me, but I don't think anybody saw it ; now, I am thankful to say, I am* very well, and feel thoroughly happy. I shall be nervous, no doubt, on Sunday, and especially at reading the Gospel, but not I think so nervous as to break down or do anything foolish ; so when you know I am reading — for you won't hear me, if you are in the stalls, don't distress yourself about me. I can't tell what it was that upset me so on Sunday and Monday — thinking of dear Mamma and how she had wished for this, the overwhelming kindness of everybody about me, dear Father's simple words of very affectionate comfort and advice. . But I walked into Exeter, and on the way got quite calm, and so I have been ever since. It is not strange that the realising the near approach of what I have for years wished for and looked forward to, should at times come upon me with such force that I seem scarcely master of myself; but it is only excitement of feeling, and ought, I know, to be re- pressed, not for a moment to be entertained as a test of one's religious state, being by no means a desir- able thing. I am very glad the examination is over. I did not worry myself about it, but it was rather hard work, and now I have my time to myself for quiet thought and meditation. Ever, dear Sophy, your affectionate Cousin, J. C. Patteson. 150 Life of Jolm Coleridge Patteson [Ch. V. The next evening he writes : — Saturday, 5.45 P.M. My dearest Father, —I must write my last letter as a layman to you. I can't tell you the hundredth part of the thoughts that have been passing through my mind this week. There has been no return of the excitement that I experienced last Sunday and Monday, and I have been very happy and well. To-day my eyes are not comfortable, from I know not what cause, but as all the work for them is over, it does not matter so much. I am glad to have had a quiet time for reflection. Indeed, I do not enough realise my great unworthiness and sinfulness, and the awful nature of the work I am undertaking. I pray God very earnestly for the great grace of humility, which I so sadly need ; and for a spirit of earnest prayer, that I may be preserved from putting trust in myself, and may know and forget myself in my office and work. I never could be fit for such work, I know that, and yet I am very thankful that the time for it has come. I do not feel excited, yet I am somewhat nervous because it requires an effort to meditate steadily. I have thought so much of my early life, of dearest Mamma. What a snare it seems, so full of transitory earthly plans and pursuits ; such a want of earnestness of purpose, and steady performance of duty ! God grant my life as a clergyman may be more innocent to myself, and more useful to others ! Tell dear Joan the gown came tliis morning. My kind love to her, r'an, and Jem. Ever, my dearest I'ather, Your affectionate and dutiful Son, J. C. Pattjcson. 1853.] The First Sermon 151 On the ensuing day, Sunday, September 25, 1853, John Coleridge Patteson received the Diaconate at the hands of the venerable Bishop Phillpotts, in Exeter Cathedral. His being selected to read the Gospel was the proof of his superiority in the examination — no wonder, considering the two additional years that he had spent in preparation, and the deep study and searchino-s of heart of the last few months. He was established in a small house at Alfington — the usual habitation of the Curate. And of his first sermon there, his uncle, Sir John Coleridge, gives the following touching description from his diary : — ^October 3, 1853. — Yesterday morning Arthur and I went to Alfington Church, to be present at Coley's first sermon. I don't know when I have been so much delighted and affected. His manner of saying the prayers was exceedingly good : his voice very sweet and musical ; without seeming loud, it was fully audible, and gave assurance of more power if needed ; his manner quite unaffected, but sweet and devout. His sermon was a very sound and good one, beautifully delivered ; perhaps in the early parts, from the very sweetness of his voice, and the very rapid delivery of his words, a little more variety of intonation would have helped in conveying his meaning more distinctly to those who formed the bulk of his congregation. But when he came to personal parts this was not needed. He made a kind allusion to me, very affecting to me ; and when I was in this mood, and he came to the per- sonal parts, touching himself and his new congrega- tion, what he knew he ought to be to them and to do for them, what they should do for themselves, and earnestly besought their prayers, I was completely 152 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. V. overcome, and weeping profusely. I thought of my sweet sister, and how she would have blessed the day had she been spared to see it ; but who can say she did not ? I bless God that he is what he is ; and that at least for a time, if his life be spared, I have secured his services for my poor people at Alfington. Many years I can hardly expect to retain him there, but I feel sure that so long as he is there, he will be a blessing to them.' Fanny Patteson and Arthur Coleridge were sitting with the Judge, and were equally overcome. When the service was over, and the congregation dispersed, Coley joined these three in the porch, holding out his hands, taking theirs and shedding tears, and they with him — tears of warm emotion too deep for words. He was evidently surprised at the effect produced. In fact, on looking at the sermon, it does not seem to have been in itself remarkable, but as his cousin Arthur says : ' I suppose the deep spirituality of the man, and the love we bore him for years, touched the emotional part of us.' The text was significant : ' We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord ; and ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake' (2 Cor. iv. 5). The services that the newly-ordained Deacon under- took were the ordinary Sunday ones, and Wednesday and Friday Matins and Litany, Saints'-day prayers and lecture, and an Advent and Lent Evensong and lecture on Wednesdays and Fridays. These last had that great popularity which attends late services. Dr. Cornish used to come on one Sunday in the month to celebrate; tlie Holy Communion (which is given weekly in the mother Church) ; and when Mr. (lardincr was able to be at Sidmouth, recovering from liis illness, he used to come over on the second Sunday in the month 1853-] Parochial Work 153 for the same purpose ; and the next Lent, the Matins were daily, and followed by a lecture. At this time Patteson's constitutional shrinking from general society was in full force, and he also had that dislike to ' speaking to ' people in the way of censure, which so often goes with tender and refined natures, however strong ; so that if his housekeeper needed a reproof, he would make his sister administer it, and creep out of reach himself ; but this was one of the de- ficiencies with which he was struggling all his life, and fortunately it is a fact that the most effective lectures usually come from those to whom they cost the most. This was the hardest part of his ministry. Where kindness and attention were needed, nothing could be more spontaneous, sweet, or winning than his ways. One of his parishioners, a farmer's daughter, writes : ' Our personal knowledge of him began some months before his Ordination, owing, I suppose, to Mr. Gardiner's severe illness ; and as he was very much respected, Mr. Patteson's attentions won from the first our admiration and gratitude, which went on and on until it deepened into that love which I do not think could have been surpassed by the Galatians for their beloved St. Paul, which he records in his Epistle to them (chap. iv. 15). All were waiting for him at his Ordination, and a happy delusion seemed to have come over the minds of most, if not all, that he was as completely ours as if he had been ordained expressly for us.' It was not his own feeling, for he knew that when his apprenticeship should be past, the place was too small, and the work too easy, for a man in full force and vigour, though for the sake of his father he was glad to accept it for the present, to train himself in 154 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [Ch. v. the work, and to have full time for study ; but he at that time looked to remaining in England during his fathers lifetime, and perhaps transferring himself to Manchester, Liverpool, London, or some large city, where there was need of mission work among the neglected. His father was on the City of London Charter Com- mission, and was in London from November to Febru- ary, the daughters joining him there, but there was no lack of friends around Aliington. Besides Dr. Cole- ridge and his beloved household at Thorverton, the family of Mr. Frank Coleridge permanently at the Manor House at Ottery ; and Mr. Justice Coleridge's family residing at Heath's Court, except in term time. The Vicar of the adjoining parish of Buckerell, the Rev. Edwin Coleridge, had married a cousin on the Patteson side of the family, and Salveston, in Ottery parish, was inhabited by the widow, son, and daughter of the late Bishop William Coleridge of Bar- badoes, so that Alfington was in the midst of an abso- lute clan. \\\ Buckerell parish, at Deerpark, that great old soldier, Lord Seaton, was spending the few years that passed between his Commissionership in the Ionian Isles and his Commandership in Ireland. He was connected with the Coleridges through the Yonge family, and the young people were all on familiar cousinly terms. Coley was much liked by him ; and often jcjincd in the rides through the lanes and to the hills with him and his daughters, when there were many conversations of much interest, as there could not fail to be witli a man who had never held a government without doing his utmost to promote God's work in the Church and for education ; who had, more- over, strong o|)inions derived from experience of the Red Indians in Upper Canada — namely, that to 1 1853.] Persona I Appca ranee 1 5 5 reclaim the young, and educate them was the only hope of making Christianity take root in any fresh nation. It was at Deerpark, at a dinner in the late autumn of this year 1853, that I saw Coley Patteson for the second and last time. I had seen him before in a visit of three days that I made at Feniton with my parents in the September of 1844, when he was an Eton boy, full of high spirits and merriment. I remember then, on the Sunday, that he and I accompanied our two fathers on a walk to the afternoon service at Ottery, and that on the way he began to show something of his inner self, and talked of his mother and her pleasure in Feniton ; but it began to rain, and I stayed for the night at Heaths Court, so that our acquaintance ceased for that time. It was not a formal party at Deerpark, and the evening was chiefly spent in playing at games, thread paper verses and the like, in which Coley took his part with spirit. If I had guessed what he was to be, I should have observed him more ; but though, in after years, our intercourse in letters makes us feel intimate with one another, these two brief meetings comprise the whole of my personal acquaintance with one in whom I then only saw a young clergyman with his heart in his work. Perhaps this is the best place to mention his personal appearance, as the portrait at the beginning of this volume was taken not more than a year later. He was tall and of a large powerful frame, broad in the chest and shoulders, and with small neat hands and feet, with more of sheer muscular strength and power of endurance than of healthiness, so that though seldom breaking down and capable of undergoing a great deal of fatigue and exertion, he was often slightly ailing, and was very sensitive to cold. His complexion was very dark, and there was a strongly marked line between 156 Life of John Coleridge Patteson [ch. v. the cheeks and mouth, the corners of which drooped when at rest, so that it was a countenance pecuHarly difficult to photograph successfully. The most striking feature was his eyes, which were of a very dark clear blue, full of an unusually deep earnest, and so to speak, inward, yet far away expression. His smile was re- markably bright, sweet and affectionate, like a gleam of sunshine, and was one element of his great attractive- ness. So was his voice, which had the rich full sweetness inherited from his mother's family, and which always excited a winning influence over the hearers. Thus, though not a handsome man, he was more than com- monly engaging, exciting the warmest affection in all who were concerned with him and giving in return an immense amount of interest and sympathy, which only became intensified to old friends while it expanded to- wards new ones. Here is a letter to his father, undated, but written not long after his settling down at Alfington. After expressing his regret that his voice had been inaudible to his sister Joanna at a Friday evening service, he proceeds : — I did not speak very loud, because I don't think I could do so and at the same time keep my mind at work and thoughts collected. Anything which is so unnatural and unusual as to make me conscious of myself in a peculiar manner would prevent, I fear, my getting on with my oration at all. I am glad you think I could not have acted other- wise with R . I quite expect ere long to find something going on which may call for my inter- fcnuici', and 1 specially guarded myself on this point. Il is distinctly understood that I shall speak to him ([uite plain!)' wliciu^ver and wherever I think it necessary to do so. 1 do not suppose it very 1853.] Scripture Readers 1 5 7 likely that he can go on long without my being forced to take some step ; but I really feel so very unequal to expressing a decided opinion upon the great question of Bible readers, that I am certainly glad I have not taken up a hostile position hastily. As a matter of fact, he reads in very few cottages in my district ; tracts he distributes almost every- where. Now I see of course the distinction between a man makinof it his business to read the Bible and neighbours dropping in occasionally to read a chapter to one who is unable to read, but where you are distinctly told that the wish is most decidedly to support the clergyman, and answers not unsatis- factory are given upon main points, what difference remains between the two cases I have put that can furnish matter for fair ai^gument, with a man from education, &c., disposed to take a different view of the whole question ? Add to this, that I cannot appeal to the universal practice of the clergy, ' Why,' might it be said, ' do you, as a clergyman find a diffi- culty where Mr. H. finds none ? You are, after all, acting on your own private opinion, though you lay claim to authority for it.' I cannot successfully appeal to the distinctive teaching of our Church, clear and manifest as it is, for the very words I think conclusive contain no such evidence for him, and so on ad infinitinn. Besides, to speak quite what I feel at present, though only so perhaps be- cause my view is necessarily unformed, the natural order of things in such a district as this seems to be : gain the affections of the people by gentleness and showing real interest in their welfare, spiritual and temporal ; show them in the Bible such teaching as the Church considers necessary (but not as yet 158 Life of yohn Coleridge Patteso7i [Ch. v. upon the authority of the Church, or at least not so expressed to them) ; lead them gradually to the ac- knowledgment of such truths as these : that Christ did found a society called the Church, and appoint to certain persons whom he sent the Ministry of reconciliation ; that if we have no guide but mere opinion, there will be thousands of conflicting opin- ions in the world even amonof o-ood men, whereas Truth can be but one, and that practically this is found to be so ; that it is no argument to say, that the Spirit so operated as to enlighten the reason of each individual to this extent, viz., that it may com- pose a Creed for him or herself ; that the Spirit acts now in the ordinary, though not less real and heavenly manner ; and that the infinite divisions among sectaries proves the fact to be as I state it. Thus I imagine the want of that external and visible Church will be felt as necessary to fix the Creeds 7ra