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Cornell University Library 
 BX5199.C56 A3 1894 
 
 Life and letters of Dean Church/edited 
 
 olln 
 
 3 1924 029 449 588 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tinis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029449588 
 
LIFE AND LETTEES OF DEAF CHUECH 
 
LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 DEAN CHUECH 
 
 EDITED BY HIS DAUGHTER 
 
 MAEY a CHUECH 
 
 WITH A PREFACE BY 
 
 THE DEAN OF CHRIST CHURCH 
 
 ILonljon 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 1894 
 
 ® 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
NOTICE 
 
 In putting together this volume of my father's corre- 
 spondence, it has been my aim to make it a book of 
 letters rather than in any sense a complete biography. 
 My father's life, from the time his boyhood ended, fell 
 naturally into three periods, curiously near to equality 
 in point of time. Eighteen years were passed at 
 Oxford; then came nineteen years at Whatley; and 
 these again were followed by nineteen years at St. 
 Paul's. These divisions of time I have made use of, 
 grouping together the series of letters belonging to 
 each period, and prefixing to each group an intro- 
 ductory sketch, so that the letters might stand with 
 only such a setting of narrative as is needed to prevent 
 obscurity in subject or allusion. Only in the Oxford 
 period, where material was more scanty, has it seemed 
 necessary to make the narrative rather more continuous 
 in order that the letters which remain may be fully 
 intelligible. 
 
 It is the defect of such a method that the treatment 
 
vi DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 of the subjects referred to in the letters is so often 
 slight and fragmentary. As the letters follow each 
 other with their constant and wide variation of allusion 
 and interest, subject after subject seems to rise only 
 to die away without receiving anything like a complete 
 or adequate treatment. But while something of this is 
 doubtless due to a want of skill in editing, it is hard 
 to see how such effect of slightness could to any great 
 extent have been avoided without allowing the volume to 
 grow to the dimensions of a biography, a result which 
 would have defeated the primary object of the book. 
 
 I feel that a word of explanation may be needed to 
 account for the large number of letters written from 
 abroad which are included in the volume, and in par- 
 ticular for the series of letters written during a visit to 
 Grreece in 1847. It was only after some hesitation, and 
 after finding that they could be included without exclud- 
 ing other letters of general interest, that I decided to 
 give them. The letters of 1847 are so characteristic in 
 theinselves, and are so vivid and suggestive in the 
 sketches they contain both of Greek scenery and of the 
 political state of things in Athens at the time of my 
 father's visit, that even at the risk of a certain want of 
 proportion in the volume I have given them almost in 
 their completeness. 
 
 Among the many friends whose kindness in lending 
 letters must be acknowledged, my thanks are specially 
 
NOTICE vii 
 
 due to Lady Blachford, Mrs. Asa Gray, Miss Mozley, 
 Canon Church, and Dr. Talbot. From my uncle I have 
 also received help in matters concerning my father's 
 family and early life abroad, while without my mother's 
 aid it would have been impossible to put together so 
 fully the sketch of Whatley life. I must also acknow- 
 ledge Dr. Barrett's kindness in allowing me to reprint 
 his interesting paper of recollections. I camiot con- 
 clude without expressing my gratitude to Canon Scott 
 Holland, and to my brother-in-law, the Dean of Christ 
 Church, for contributions to the volume, which have 
 brought out certain aspects of my father's mind and 
 character and influence more clearly and forcibly than 
 they could have been conveyed by the letters alone. 
 
 MAEY C. CHUECH. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 T, PAQB 
 
 rBEFACE . 
 
 XI 
 
 PAET I 
 
 Eaely Life— Oxford— Poeeign Travel 
 
 PAET II 
 
 Whatlet , 
 
 PAET III 
 
 St. Paul's 
 
 164 
 
 248 
 
PREFACE 
 
 It is hoped that an attempt may, without impertinence, 
 be here made to put before the reader of these letters 
 some sketch, however slight and faint, of the mind that 
 may be found in them. The letters, with their setting, 
 tell the story of their writer's life : what he was, in the 
 depth of character and personality, must be left untold. 
 But between the outward course of a life and the infler 
 depth (yet interfused with both), there is that broad 
 space in which it is the task of criticism to think out 
 as justly as it can the distinctive notes of a man's mind 
 and work. It is this task that will be here essayed, 
 with the hope of suggesting a few lines of observation, 
 a few points that may be marked in the reading of the 
 book. It must be owned that the case is one in which 
 criticism cannot move without reverence and gratitude 
 attending it. But reverence and gratitude are not a 
 sheer hindrance to criticism in its proper work ; and the 
 intimacy in which they were learnt may countervail, 
 
xii DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 perhaps, whatever loss of mere impartiality they may 
 involve. 
 
 (i) There was in the mind of the late Dean of St. 
 Paul's an unusual combination of certain traits and habits 
 which are generally regarded as characteristic of 
 separate and special studies ; of scholarship, of natural 
 science, and of history. He had the delicate sense of 
 appropriateness, the abhorrence of all that was flaunting 
 and slipshod, the love of neatness and finish, that gave 
 charm and taught reserve to the scholars of his day. 
 Nor did he ever drop the pursuits for which these 
 scholarly gifts enabled him. He loved his classics as 
 real friends : one volume after another in his library 
 bears his tidy and discriminating notes, as witnesses to 
 the width and care with which he read ; while the great 
 authors who were closest to his heart, Homer,- Sophocles, 
 Lucretius, Virgil, went with him on his holidays, and 
 bear many dates in Switzerland and Italy, with Alpine 
 flowers between their leaves. Far on in life a tour 
 through Northern Italy made him think he had never 
 before done full justice to the Georgics, though still he kept 
 for Lucretius a throne apart. He was working steadily 
 at the Ethics when he was past seventy : he had Homer 
 by him in his last illness. And thus behind that 
 scholarly grace and insight which were felt in his essays 
 on Dante and on Spenser, there was always the sus- 
 tained interest and work of a true scholar. — He himself 
 
PREFACE xiii 
 
 might have laughed if any one had treated him as a real 
 student of natural science. But there was no mistaking 
 the scientific character of his mind, and it can hardly 
 fail to be noticed in his letters. He wrote the article 
 on the discovery of Neptune which caught Le Verrier's 
 attention and first set the Chmrdian in its consistent 
 attitude towards the achievements of natural science. 
 His eager and painstaking interest in botany gave to his 
 friendship with Dr. Asa Gray a peculiar intimacy and 
 delightfulness. His prompt and frank appreciation of 
 Mr. Darwin's great work, at a time when such appreciar 
 tion was far less general than it is now, was the outcome 
 of a mind that knew at all events what that work 
 meant, and knew enough about it to be neither timorous 
 nor hasty. One feels that such a mind was not likely 
 to blunder about scientific points, nor to imagine that it 
 understood them unless it really did so. It was at least 
 in such sympathy with the distinctive excellences of the 
 man of science as could hardly be attained without some 
 share in them. — But, strong as were the scholarly and 
 scientific elements in the mind, it was in the field of 
 history that its largest and most characteristic and most 
 brilliant powers came to the front. The. study of human 
 nature, in its variety, its strangeness, its complexity; 
 the analysis of broad movements into their component 
 forces, or the tracing of them to their many causes ; the 
 severance and appraising of good and bad in the mixed 
 
xiv DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 actions of famous men; the redressing of unjust judg- 
 ments; the patient observation and description of 
 great courses of policy or action ;— these were tasks to 
 which the Dean brought his very keenest interest, on 
 which he spent his most serious and concentrated work, 
 in which he seemed to know no weariness. And for 
 these tasks he had rare gifts— gifts which stood him in 
 the same stead whether he set them to summon up 
 and portray the scenes, the struggles, the characters of 
 St. Anselm's day, or to tell the deeds and sufferings of 
 that vast drama through which the Ottoman power 
 moved to its stupendous triumph and the exhausted 
 Empire to its doom, or to achieve what vfdll surely last 
 as the most adequate and justly balanced presentation 
 of the Oxford Movement. 
 
 (ii) It was probably through this diversity of gifts 
 and studies that he gained a peculiar breadth of thought 
 in deliberation and in judgment. He saw things largely, 
 with an ample and appreciative survey of their condi- 
 tions : that which would especially appeal to the scholar 
 or the man of science, neither displacing nor being 
 displaced by the dominant interest of the historian. 
 And, scanning thus the richness of the view, he was apt 
 to take with him, in judging the affairs and cases of 
 ordinary life, a broader volume of thought, a greater 
 multitude of considerations, than most men bear in 
 mind. He was less likely than most men to forget in 
 
PREFACE XV 
 
 forming a judgment something that should have been 
 
 remembered: something that told upon the problem 
 
 and might help one towards precisely solving it. One 
 
 constantly felt when one was seeking counsel from him 
 
 how much his mind was carrying as it did its work. It 
 
 carried much, and yet was never cumbered ; partly 
 
 because he had a singular habit of disregarding, as if by 
 
 set purpose, what was really trivial; never worrying 
 
 himself or others over little things, and even, with all 
 
 his own exactness, letting harmless, blameless inaccuracy 
 
 sometimes go unnoticed ; as though life were too short, 
 
 too full, too grave for a man to take every chance of 
 
 setting others right. And thus he guarded a certain 
 
 simple loftiness, a quiet, unconscious dignity of thought 
 
 in the common ways of life ; and when hard cases or 
 
 great questions came before him, he seemed instinctively 
 
 to know what should be regarded and what let slip. 
 
 Statesmanship has always been a rare quality among men; 
 
 and it has so often and so disastrously been claimed or 
 
 imagined where it was not that its very name is in some 
 
 danger of discredit. But it is hard to find another word 
 
 which would as well suggest the Dean's way of making 
 
 up his mind;, his broad range of thought; his prompt 
 
 dismissal of all that was irrelevant or unimportant; 
 
 his steady hand in balancing considerations and his 
 
 just sense of proportion; his patient endurance and 
 
 frank avowal of uncertainty; his strong refusal to be 
 
xvi DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 unjust even to his own side ; his undismayed anticipation 
 of great perils and unexcited contemplation of great 
 aims ; his equality of courage for self-refraining and for 
 decisive action. 
 
 (iii) In the temperament and disposition of the mind 
 that was thus endued and trained and used there were 
 two notes which entered into much that was character- 
 istic of it. They were its independence and its sense of 
 humour. But the note of independence had a peculiar 
 quality, due in part at least to one great experience in 
 the Dean's life. He had been a disciple ; and he had 
 gone straight on, holding his own unshaken course, 
 when his master had swerved off and left him. The 
 enthusiasm and inspiration which Mr. Newman could 
 infuse had filled his heart : then came the great loss of 
 1845; and after that he could be no man's disciple; he 
 must think for himself, with no dependence on another's 
 thoughts. Independent he would anyhow have come 
 to be, by the necessary .bent of his own nature, and as 
 a matter of duty to himself. But Mr. Newman's 
 secession hastened his development in this regard ; and 
 it gave to the independence of his mind a distinctive 
 beauty. For independence, admirable as it is, is apt to 
 be somewhat unconciliatory and uninviting, apt to dis- 
 courage the approach of kindness by showing too 
 plainly the strength if not the pride of self-sufficiency. 
 In him it was refined and chastened by an undertone of 
 
PKEFAOE xvii 
 
 pathos. He was detached from many things that 
 entangle men ; he seemed ready to detach himseK from 
 more ; and with him peculiarly one felt how the strong- 
 hold of a true man's life is not near the frontier, hut 
 somewhere far away, remote and lonely and aloft. But 
 that great experience of disappointment which had 
 pressed forward the work of his detachment, the realisa- 
 tion of his independence, was felt in the result: felt 
 through a certain quiet and simple gravity, verging 
 towards sadness, and guarding independence from all 
 touch of hardness or ungentleness or indifference or 
 pride. — It was in his courage of decision that the 
 robust, unhampered energy of an independent mind 
 declared itself most plainly. All his reverence for the 
 rights of others and for the full scope that they should 
 have and use, all his dislike of ill-grounded positiveness, 
 all his insistence on the limitation of our knowledge, all 
 his resolute recollection of our vast uncertainty and 
 ignorance, did not stay him from saying clearly what, 
 so far as he could judge, he clearly saw. So he dealt 
 with the great problems of speculation, with the 
 questions of political and social life, with the difficulties 
 that men come to in their own separate experience. He 
 never forgot the humility that becomes men in this 
 dimly-lighted world, and the determined patience which 
 all true service of mankind demands, where tasks are 
 complex and results are almost sure to be deferred and 
 
xviii DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 mixed and fragmentary : he never trifled with the inde- 
 feasible right, the inevitable duty of each man ultimately 
 in matters of conduct to make up his own mind ; but 
 where he had to give advice, or bear his part in con- 
 troversy or discussion, he saw neither reverence nor 
 patience nor humility in disguising what he thought or 
 professing any doubt he did not feel. He believed that 
 men were meant to think and judge and choose, as in 
 God's sight and mindful of their condition : so he did 
 , his best with the faculties he had ; and he frankly said 
 what he believed. — There was, in his exercise of delibera- 
 tion and judgment, a rare union of balance and decision, 
 of reserve and self-committal, of deference and self- 
 respect, of modesty and boldness. 
 
 The sense of humour seldom gets due credit for the 
 good work it does or helps to do. Men often mark the 
 blunders that are made through lack of it; but they 
 do not generally think of the real excellences of mind 
 and character into which it enters, and which more or 
 less depend on it for their preservation and advance- 
 ment. It was in the late Dean of St. Paul's a very keen 
 and delicate sense ; it was delightful to tell him a good 
 story, or to watch him as he saw some ludicrous position, 
 or recalled some bit of misplaced pompousness : he had 
 a quick eye for fun, and enjoyed it splendidly. And 
 this sense of humour ministered to much that was both 
 strong and charming in him; it bore a real part in 
 
PREFACE xix 
 
 making him what he was, and enabling him for the 
 especial work he did. Without it he might hardly have 
 been able to sustain the perfect simplicity and lightness 
 of manner which saved him whoUy from that suspicion 
 of somehow liking homage, and that annoyance and un- 
 reality in receiving it, to which big people are sometimes 
 liable. It was inconceivable that he should play the 
 great man, or put himself in any attitude, or let any one 
 make a fuss about him, or approach him otherwise than 
 with straightforward plainness, or talk as though there 
 were anything mysterious or unusual about him. He 
 would have seen too vividly the humour of the situation, 
 and might perhaps have conveyed to his visitor very 
 gently whatever sense of it he was able to receive. 
 And so the consciousness of power, the discipline of 
 prominence, the enthusiasm of friends, the praise of 
 strangers never touched with any change his simple, 
 genial enjoyment of all pleasant things that came to 
 him : frankly and naturally he welcomed them : 
 great or small, homely or recondite, rare or common- 
 place, passing or enduring, he found and owned the 
 pleasure in them, delighting if he could help others 
 to be as pleased as he was. But meanwhile all this 
 simplicity and ease and unpretentiousness was making 
 it possible for him, without any risk of mistake in others, 
 minds or in his own, to maintain a singular and natural 
 dignity J — a dignity as clear and obvious as it was 
 
XX DEAN CHUKOH'S LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 unobtrasive; a dignity which others were the more 
 unlikely to forget because he never thought about it. 
 Probably no one ever tried either to flatter him or to 
 take a liberty with him without presently regretting 
 the attempt. 
 
 (iv) But all that has hitherto been said stays very 
 far behind what those who knew the Dean will look for 
 in any study of his mind. And as one tries to press on 
 and reach the real secrets of his distinctive strength, 
 the traits which gave his work its singular purity and 
 value, one finds, of course, that it is impossible for 
 criticism to halt at the frontier of personal character : 
 impossible to appraise the gifts and habits of a- man's 
 mind without speaking of the forces that ruled his heart 
 and will. If a man is sincere and thoughtful and con- 
 sistent, if he is trying honestly to live one life, not two 
 or three, his moral qualities and his religious convictions 
 will tell all through his work, in the manner of his 
 thinking, in his instinctive attitude towards all that 
 comes before him, and in the very style of his talking 
 and writing ; and on those qualities and convictions his 
 work will depend for its most penetrating and most " 
 lasting power. It is certain that if the Dean had been 
 less patient, less strenuous in his effort to be just to all 
 men, he never could have borne the part and left the 
 mark he did. The notes of patience and of justice are 
 on all his work : even as one felt them in the way he 
 
PREFACE xxi 
 
 spoke of men, in the weight he gave to the considera- 
 tions which might fairly weigh with others, in the large 
 allowance he would always make for the vast diversity 
 of men's gifts and opportunities, for the inscrutable 
 depth of every human life, for the unknown hindrances 
 and diflSculties and discouragements through which those 
 who seem to advance slowly may be winning a heroic 
 way. — But patient as he was, he could be angry when 
 need came ; angry with a quiet and self-possessed in- 
 tensity which made his anger very memorable. The 
 sight of injustice, of strength or wealth presuming on 
 its advantages, of insolence — (a word that came from 
 his lips with a peculiar ring and emphasis), — called out 
 in him something like the passion that has made- men 
 patriots when their people were oppressed, something 
 of that temper which will always make tyranny inse- 
 cure and persecution hazardous. One felt that many 
 years of quiet and hidden self-control must lie behind 
 the power of wielding rightly such a weapon as that 
 anger : an anger that was just and strong and calm. — 
 But further back in his character than either patience 
 or the power of anger there was an habitual feeling of 
 which only those who knew him well, perhaps, became 
 distinctly conscious, but which, when once it had been 
 discovered, might be traced in much that he said and 
 did. It was as though he lived in constant recollection 
 of something that was awful and even dreadful to him ; 
 
xxii DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTEKS 
 
 something that bore with searching force on all men's 
 ways and purposes and hopes and fears; something 
 before which he knew himself to be, as it were,, con- 
 tinually arraigned ; something which it was strange and 
 pathetic to find so little recognised in current views 
 of life. He seemed to bear about with him a certain 
 hidden, isolating, constraining, and ennobling fear, which 
 quenched the dazzling light of many things that attract 
 most men ; a fear which would have to be clean got rid 
 of before time-serving or unreality could have a chance 
 with him. Whatever that fear was it told upon his 
 work in many ways ; it helped him, probably, in great 
 things to be unworldly ; it sustained with, an imperious 
 and ever-present sanction his sense and care for perfect 
 justice, in act and word, in his own life and in his 
 verdicts on the past : and it may well have borne part 
 in mfl,king his style what it was ; for probably few men 
 have ever written so well and stayed so simply anxious 
 to write truly. 
 
 (v) It may seem odd that in the attempt which this 
 Preface represents nothing should have been said of the 
 Dean's place and work in the field of theology. The 
 omission is deliberate ; and it is not prompted only by 
 the sense of the subtle and manifold difficulty of the 
 subject, and the likelihood and harmfulness of mistakes 
 in dealing with it. That sense seems, indeed, to be 
 deepened as one thinks about the subject, and as one 
 
PKEFACE xxni 
 
 endeavours to reach anything like thoroughness and 
 precision in regard to it ; and he who would really set 
 about it might find that it wanted a separate essay for 
 itself. But there are, further, three reasons to warrant 
 its omission here. — First, the topic in some of its essential 
 aspects belongs more naturally to the study of his 
 life than to the study of his mind. — Secondly, real and 
 distinctive as his theological power was, its peculiar 
 character and excellence was derivative rather than 
 primary ; — the general quality and endowments of his 
 mind, rather than any faculties or characteristics ex- 
 clusively adapted to theological work, made him what 
 he was as a theologian. And thus it may be hoped 
 that, in this volume, not those letters only which con- 
 cern matters of doctrine and ecclesiastical polity, but 
 some others also may conspire to give a better idea of 
 the Dean's bearing in theological study or debate than 
 could be given at all briefly : an idea which may be 
 defined, confirmed, enriched by acquaintance with his 
 books throughout the whole of their wide range. For 
 in all alike there may appear that union of deference 
 and independence which probably accounts for much of 
 his peculiar power as a religious teacher. — And, lastly, 
 the consideration of his thought and teaching in theology 
 would, by reason of those demands and opportunities 
 which make the difference between theology and every 
 other science, carry this essay deep into the full con- 
 
xxiv DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 sideration of traits purely moral and spiritual ; and that 
 task has been here disclaimed. It is a task which any 
 one who knew the Dean might at once both long and 
 fear to set about. But there are words of his which 
 effectually reinforce in the present case the instinct of 
 reserve. For not long before his death he wrote thus 
 to the author of this Preface : "I often have a kind of 
 waking dream ; up one road, the image of a man decked 
 and adorned as if for a triumph, carried up by rejoic- 
 ing and exulting friends, who praise his goodness and 
 achievements ; and, on the other road, turned back to 
 back to it, there is the very man himself, in sordid 
 and squalid apparel, surrounded not by friends, but by 
 ministers of justice, and going on, while his friends are 
 exulting, to his certain and perhaps awful judgment. 
 That vision rises when I hear, not just and conscientious 
 endeavours to make out a man's character, but when I 
 hear the loose things that are said — often in kindness 
 and love — of those beyond the grave." 
 
 F. P. 
 Cheist Ohtjech, August 1st, 1894. 
 
LIFE & LETTERS OF DEAN CHURCH 
 
 PAET I 
 
 EARLY LIFE — OXFORD — FOREIGN TRAVEL 
 
 EiCHARD William Church was born, the eldest of 
 three sons, at Lisbon, the 25th of April 1815. His 
 father, John Dearman Church, was born at Cork in 
 1781, and was the son of Matthew Church — the head 
 of a merchant-house in that city — and of Ann Dear- 
 man, of a Yorkshire family. Both Mr. and Mrs. Matthew 
 Church came of Quaker parentage, and were professing 
 members of the Society of Friends ; and there grew up 
 through marriage in the next generation various connec- 
 tions with Backhouses, Gui'neys, and other well-known 
 Quaker names. The link which bound the family to the 
 Society did not, however, last longer unbroken, though it 
 would not perhaps be impossible to discern certain dis- 
 tinctive traits of Quaker character, which in some of its 
 members at least survived the outward change. Mr. John 
 Dearman Church was formally "disunited" from the 
 « B 
 
2 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 Connection, and was baptized a member of the English 
 Church, at the time of his marriage in 1814 His 
 younger brother Eichard, afterwards General SirEichard 
 Church, broke away earlier, and at sixteen entered the 
 army, where a commission was purchased for him in the 
 1 3th Light Infantry ; the choice of such a profession in 
 itself involving severance from a community, with which 
 a character, keenly ambitious of military distinction, 
 and marked by a strong natural love of adventure, had 
 very little in common. 
 
 In 1810 business affairs in Cork no longer prosper- 
 ing, Mr. J. D. Church went to Portugal and settled in 
 Lisbon, where, since the opening of the war, and the 
 French occupation of Lisbon, which had broken up 
 many of the old mercantile houses, new opportunities 
 for successful ventures in business now offered them- 
 selves. Four years later he married Miss Metzener, of 
 an Anglo-German family which had been long resident 
 in Lisbon. The marriage took place in London, and 
 shortly afterwards, Mr. Church returned with his wife 
 to Portugal. An adventure which befell them on their 
 journey thither is a singular example of the dangers 
 to which travellers at that period might be exposed. 
 The passage by mail-packet from Falmouth to Lisbon 
 was made in small armed brigs, and was attended in 
 time of war by a certain amount of risk from the chance 
 of attack by French or American privateers. During 
 their voyage, and when they were some days out to sea, 
 the mail-packet was hailed by an English man-of-war, 
 the Primrose, of eighteen guns, commanded by Captain 
 
I EAELY LIFE 3 
 
 Phillott. By some strange failure in the reading of the 
 signals the character of neither vessel was made clear to 
 the other, and the captain of the Primrose, believing the 
 packet to be an American privateer, opened lire, which 
 was promptly returned by the brig, and a sharp en- 
 gagement ensued for half an hour. The misunder- 
 standing was at length cleared up, and each vessel went 
 her way, but the affair did not close without the loss 
 of six lives (two of the passengers by the mail-packet 
 being killed), besides injuries more or less serious to 
 some twenty of the crew on either side. 
 
 The first year of Richard Church's life was spent in 
 Lisbon. In 1816 his father retired from business, and 
 with the intention of settling in England, bought a 
 small property, Ashwick Grove, in Somersetshire. But 
 threatenings of ill-health rendered an English life un- 
 desirable, and in 1818 he went to Italy, finally settling 
 with his family in Florence. Here a house was bought, 
 the Casa Annalena, in the Via Eomana, adjoining the 
 Boboli Gardens; and this became their home for the 
 next eight years. Letters of that time, which still 
 remain, show Mr. and Mrs. Church to have been people 
 of much quiet reality of religious feeling and open- 
 hearted affection ; possessing a good deal of cultivation 
 and taste, and taking their part among the English 
 residents in the social life of Florence, besides seeing 
 something of the Italian society of the period. The 
 letters also convey a very pleasant picture of the happy 
 home-life in Florence, in which the children have plainly 
 the central place, which was passed amid so much of 
 
4 DEAN OHUKCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 brightness and beauty and historic interest, with its 
 yearly changes of scene, and the new experiences brought 
 by each summer's villeggiatura at Leghorn or in the hill 
 country about the baths of Lucca. To an English child 
 naturally quick-witted, and readily observant of all that 
 was passing round him, these glimpses into a foreign 
 world, which in many points was in such strange con- 
 trast with the life of the little colony in its midst, gave 
 opportunity for ever renewed wonder and inquiry. At 
 five years old Richard went with his parents to the 
 south of Italy to visit his uncle, General Church, who, 
 after a life of varied military adventure during the 
 Napoleonic wars in Egypt, France, and Italy, had en- 
 tered the service of the King of Naples, and was at this 
 time acting as Viceroy in the two provinces of Apulia, 
 Terra di Bari and Terra d'Otranto. After some years 
 of vigorous administration, General Church had suc- 
 ceeded in restoring order to the provinces under his 
 rule, had stamped out brigandage, and had broken the 
 power of the secret societies which had long been the 
 terror of the country. In 1820 he was residing at 
 Lecce, the capital of the province, in supreme command; 
 enjoying not only the favour of the Bourbon Govern- 
 ment, but a wide popularity among the inhabitants of 
 Apulia, both on account of his personal bravery, and for 
 the resolute justice by which he had made possible to 
 them the elements at least of a peaceable and law-abid- 
 ing life. Some dim memories of this journey, with its 
 strange experiences and changing scenes and picturesque 
 figures, remained in the boy's mind ; the one clear im- 
 
I EARLY LIFE 5 
 
 pression which survived being the sight of brigands' 
 heads stuck upon poles, in places along the roadside — 
 left there as significant tokens of his uncle's authority. 
 They were still at Naples, on their return from Lecce, 
 when the city broke out into revolution, and, together 
 with other foreign residents, they were obliged to take 
 refuge on board ship in the harbour. To Mr. and Mrs. 
 Church it was a time of great anxiety and some peril ; 
 to the child the only recollection that remained was of 
 being lifted up on deck by the saUors, to watch the 
 firing from the forts, and the fighting in the streets 
 and on the Chiaja. 
 
 At eleven years old, Eichard, who had early shown 
 signs of unusual intelligence and aptitude for learning, 
 was sent with his second brother, two years younger 
 than himself, to a small preparatory school which had 
 been set up for English boys at Leghorn. It was during 
 their stay here that there grew up in both boys that 
 love for the sea and for everything belonging to it, 
 which characterised them through life.-' In 1826 the 
 memories of the part played by England in the 
 Napoleonic wars were still fresh in men's minds, and to 
 the quick imagination of the elder boy— himself born 
 only two months before Waterloo — they were brought 
 home the more vividly, by the share which his uncle 
 had taken in campaigns in Egypt and Italy, as well as 
 
 ^ His brother Bromley eventually entered the merchant service. 
 In 1852, whilst in command of an Bast Indiaman boimd from Bombay 
 to China, he was wrecked, and his vessel totally lost, off one of 
 a group of desolate islands some sixty miles from Sumatra. With some 
 of his crew he succeeded in landing upon the island, where he died of 
 fever after some months of gr'eat privation and suffering. 
 
6 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 by the foreign scenes and experiences amid which the 
 life of the family was cast. But above all, English 
 naval history, with its stirring narratives of courage 
 and adventure, woke up all his enthusiastic interest. 
 Southey's Life of Nelson was one of the favourite books 
 of his boyhood, read and re-read, often and eagerly; 
 and it is characteristic, that among other early relics 
 long treasured by the mother, was a card drawn and 
 painted by him in a childish, irregular hand, with the 
 words of Nelson's famous signal at Trafalgar. At 
 Leghorn the brothers found free scope for their prevail- 
 ing passion. Out of school hours all their time was 
 spent in wandering about the harbour of the little port ; 
 sailing toy boats of their own fashioning in its quiet 
 waters, or watching the many varieties of foreign 
 shipping and craft which passed in and out, and learning 
 to master the differences of their build and rigging. 
 But this pleasant life was not to be of long duration. 
 In the beginning of 1828 their father was struck down 
 by a sudden and. fatal illness at Florence ; and although 
 the boys were hastily sent for, they arrived too late to 
 see him alive. Some months of great anxiety and sorrow 
 followed, during which the home in Florence was broken 
 up, and harassing business arrangements were concluded ; 
 and at length, in May of the same year, Mrs. Church 
 with her three children left Italy and returned to 
 England, where they settled in Bath. 
 
 So complete a severance of all early surroundings and 
 associations from those of later years has something 
 exceptional about it; and it was this perhaps which 
 
t EARLY LIFE 7 
 
 helped to give a distinct and enduring freshness to the 
 memory of those years of happy boyhood in Italy which 
 were thus suddenly brought to a close. A charm 
 belonged to them which was never weakened or 
 dispelled. Florence, in the Dean's recollections, always 
 seemed a home, and when he revisited it years after it 
 still wore to him the same home-like and familiar look 
 which he remembered — the one place, it seemed to him, 
 that he never could tire of. 
 
 The varied and unusual training of these early years 
 had doubtless secured to the boy much that was of 
 permanent value for mind and character, but it had not 
 been the best preparation for the schooling which was 
 now to follow it, or for the strangeness and isolation of 
 the life of the next few years. The appearance which 
 England presented to the family upon their first arrival 
 from Italy was dreary enough. Mrs. Church had spent 
 the greater part of her life abroad, and had little 
 acquaintance with English ways, and she came to Eng- 
 land with scarcely a friend to whom she could turn for 
 counsel or aid. It had been his father's intention that 
 Richard should be sent to Winchester, but his mother's 
 narrower means, and his own health, which at this time 
 was far from strong, prevented this wish from being 
 carried out. He was sent for a term to a school at 
 Exeter, where his first experience of English school life 
 was brought to an abrupt conclusion by the sudden dis- 
 appearance of the master, the boys being sent back to 
 their several homes. He was then sent to Eedlands, 
 near Bristol, a school of a pronounced Evangelical type, 
 
8 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 under the headmastership of Dr. Swete, where the teach- 
 ing was careful and accurate, but with little apparently 
 of power or inspiration about it. No letters of this date 
 remain, but a few pages of recollections written long 
 after recall the character of school and college training. 
 Whatever were the defects in the teaching at Eedlands, 
 he quickly learnt there to work well and steadily. " I 
 suppose I sapped," he writes, " and was made to learn 
 rules carefully. But as to any spirit in our lessons, or 
 examples of scholarship or scholarly tastes, there was 
 none. The grind was the thing, and not a bad thing. 
 It saved time afterwards." Great stress was laid on 
 Evangelical principles, which coloured all the religious 
 teaching of the school, and the boys were encouraged, 
 side by side with their classical work, to write out 
 sermon notes, and to find texts in defence of Justifica- 
 tion by Faith, Sanctification, Total Depravity, Election, 
 and Final Perseverance. "I remember," he vrrites, 
 "questions arising in my thoughts as to whether we 
 really could be so cocksure about the absolute truth of 
 the Evangelical formulse, as was commonly taken for 
 granted. One of the great watchwords was the right 
 of private judgment : and we used on Sundays to have 
 to find texts to prove it. And it used to occur to me, 
 how then can we condemn the Socinians, who go wrongly 
 by using it — they with the Roman Catholics being the 
 special type of heretics whom we thought of, and looked 
 at when we saw them, with a kind of awful curiosity 
 and dismay. And the question, what is the proof of the 
 Bible and of its inspiration was one of those uneasy 
 
I EARLY LIFE 9 
 
 ones, on whieh I did not feel that I had a solid ground, 
 though I never doubted that there was one." It was 
 the time of Catholic Emancipation, and men's minds, 
 especially among the Evangelicals, were full of the 
 dangers and evils of Popery. There was a Reformation 
 Society, to the meetings and debates of which the elder 
 boys of the school were allowed to go — " where a certain 
 Rev. N. Armstrong used to pour forth wonderful de- 
 olamations on the 'Sacrifice of the Mass,' 'Tradition,' 
 etc., with glib quotations from the Council .of Trent and 
 the Breviary. I remember," the recollections continue, 
 " buying a ' Council of Trent ' that I might emulate him 
 in finding passages to confound possible Popish con- 
 troversialists, who at that time were in the softening 
 and minimising mood. I used to think Mr. Armstrong 
 the height of eloquence. I once heard Robert Hall, and 
 thought how pale and subdued his preaching was, com- 
 pared with Mr. Armstrong's highly-spiced tropes and 
 elaborate similes." Teaching of this kind could scarcely 
 fail to have its effect on a boy's mind ; and in recalling 
 the character of his religious convictions at this period 
 he speaks of having taken in the religious colour of the 
 place too much for any healthy sincerity. For the rest, 
 whilst on good terms, both with schoolfellows and masters, 
 he went very much his own way, a reserved, serious, 
 studious boy, loving books and already beginning to 
 collect them ; and with an eye to editions, which he 
 used to search for among the second-hand book shops in 
 Bristol. 
 
 But school life did not pass altogether devoid of in- 
 
10 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 cident and excitement of a more secular kind : — " The 
 great event, while I was at Eedlands, was the Bristol 
 Riots, and the burning of the gaols, the Bishop's Palace, 
 and Queen Square, in October 1831. We were going 
 to church on Sunday, when we heard shots fired in the 
 direction of Bristol. We knew that Bristol was excited 
 about Sir Charles Wetherell, who had had to escape 
 from the mob over the roofs of houses ; but we knew 
 nothing more. In the evening I went out of the school- 
 room into the playground, and there was haK the horizon 
 lighted up with vast conflagrations. Of course the 
 excitement was tremendous. No news had come out, 
 and next morning the news was that the mob were in 
 possession." 
 
 To the boys, of course, it seemed as if attack on the 
 school were imminent : — " It was a question whether 
 any of us had a pistpl among his contraband treasures. 
 I cannot remember how we passed the night, but 
 I think we must have gone to bed. However, we 
 heard in the course of the day that the yeomanry and 
 some of the cavalry had come back, and cleared the 
 streets, and slain some of the mob. There were after- 
 tragedies — the court-martial, and Colonel Brereton's 
 suicide, and the hanging of the rioters. But I don't 
 think it made much impression on us, except to make 
 us think Reform and Radicalism very abominable 
 things." 
 
 Mr. Church remained at Redlands until 1833, when 
 he went up to Oxford, and went into residence at 
 Wadham. "I was sent to Wadham," he writes, "be- 
 
I OXFORD 11 
 
 caixse B. P. Symons and Thomas Grriffiths and Vores, 
 the tutors, were of Evangelical principles, and it was 
 a college where some men worked. It had always been 
 settled in Florence -days that I was to go to Oxford. 
 After matriculation I went back to echool, till I went 
 into residence at the Easter Term, 1833. I did not 
 hear much about Oxford in the interval. I became 
 acquainted in the interval with Keble's Christicm Year. 
 But I was warned by some Evangelical clergyman that 
 it was not quite 'sound' about 'vital religion.' Also 
 I heard two names, but only heard them, MicheU of 
 Lincoln, a great tutor, and Charles Marriott. I forget 
 from whom I heard of Marriott. He was spoken of as 
 very clever, but in danger of being influenced by ' un- 
 evangelical doctrines.' " 
 
 An event which indirectly had considerable influence 
 on Mr. Church's career at Oxford arose out of his 
 mother's second marriage, which had taken place in 
 1833, to Mr. Crokat, a widower with a grown-up family. 
 This was followed a year later by the marriage of one 
 of his step-sisters to George Moberly, who was then 
 Fellow and Tutor of Balliol, and who subsequently be- 
 came Headmaster of Winchester and Bishop of Salis- 
 bury. For one who had gone up to Oxford, as Mr. 
 Church had gone, shy and diffident, with few acquaint- 
 ances and no University connections, the friendship 
 which was thus brought about with a man of unusual 
 distinction and of high standing in the University was 
 the help and stimulus he most needed. He owed to it 
 his first insight into a new world, wider both intellectu- 
 
12 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 ally and morally than any he had yet known. After 
 the narrow sympathies and commonplace teaching of 
 Redlands, the force and keenness and suggestiveness of 
 Mr. Moberly's talk, combined with his fine scholarship 
 and literary taste, came upon the younger man with the 
 awakening power of a revelation. 
 
 At first starting Mr. Church's life at Wadham was 
 a solitary one. "When I went up after Easter in 
 1833," he writes, "I knew no one in Oxford ; I had an 
 introduction to E. Michell of Lincoln, who was ever 
 very kind to me, but at that time could not do much 
 for a freshman, beyond asking him to breakfast.'' A 
 contemporary letter to his mother confirms these re- 
 collections : — ■ 
 
 WArHAM, 2toZ Juiw 1833. 
 I suppose you are very anxious to know what I think of 
 Oxford. I must answer you as I have done all my corre- 
 spondents whom I have favoured with a letter : " pretty 
 well," or " I do not know." " Oh, I forgot, I like it very 
 well." You must excuse all the nonsense I write, for the 
 heat, I believe, has sublimated my head ; and if I was to 
 attempt to write gravely, my head would begin to ache. 
 My greatest bore here is not knowing men. I am a fresh- 
 man as yet, and of course everybody is shy. However, I 
 hope to be better off in time. Indeed I have hardly any- 
 thing to tell you of. My life here is quite as monotonous 
 as it was at school. I have had no adventures as yet, and I 
 have only been proctorised once, for not having my gown on. 
 People leave me alone, and I leave them alone, and so it 
 goes on. " Pleasant life ! " you . wiU. say. " Very pleasant," 
 I answer. 
 
I OXFORD 13 
 
 But, by degrees, as he became more at home in his 
 new life, he began to extend the range of his acquaint 
 ance. " There was a very clever set at Wadham," the 
 recollections continue : " Brancker from Shrewsbury 
 had just got the Ireland over older men like E. Scott, 
 and was rather set up by it. Lloyd and E. Massie were 
 also Shrewsbury men ; and 0. H. B. Hyman, afterwards 
 Ireland Scholar, and C. Badham from Eton, who might 
 have been anything he pleased, and is now Professor of 
 Greek in the University of Sydney, and one of the first 
 Greek scholars going, and G B. Dalton, who had just 
 taken his degree, were all men far above the ordinary 
 rank. ... I shrank from the very pronounced Evan- 
 gelical men ; my friends were mostly men of no special 
 colour, quiet, well-behaved, sensible, not likely to make 
 a noise in the University or the world. . . . But all 
 sets touched more or less ; the quiet set had relations 
 with the fast set, and met occasionally at wine parties 
 and breakfasts. . . . The only out-college man of any 
 mark, except Moberly, that I knew much of while I 
 was at Wadham, was Charles Marriott. He called on 
 me the first term. He had got his Oriel Fellowship, 
 and I thought it an immense honour to be noticed by 
 such a swell. I don't suppose I saw very much of him, 
 but he never lost sight of me. His kindness and afiec- 
 tion grew and never faltered to the day of his death. 
 He was the earliest friend to whose undeniable superi- 
 ority I could look up : others had been more or less my 
 equals. ... No man, I suppose, was more smiled at iii 
 Oxford, both for his words and his silence. But no 
 
14 DEAN CHUKOH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 man, that I ever heard of, had such strange influence, 
 the influence arising from sheer respect, in turbulent 
 Oxford scenes among the undergraduates, as in the rows 
 at the Union. ^ No one was so listened to, as if men 
 believed in his sincerity and truth of purpose, and 
 entire absence of indirect motives. ... I passed my 
 Little-go in the October Term of 1§33, and then had to 
 go home ill. Little-go was the first public exhibition I 
 had made of myself, and so was a serious affair to me : 
 but a Wadham tutor, Harding, wanted, I think, to show 
 me ofif to his colleague, Peter HanseU of University, and 
 besides the- regular work, which was quite easy, asked 
 me to do a bit of Greek prose, as a work of supererogar 
 tion. I think this was the first thing that made me 
 think I might perhaps read for honours. And when I 
 came back I settled regularly to read." 
 
 In a letter to his mother, dated the 6th July 1835, 
 occurs the first mention of the names of Newman and 
 Keble :— 
 
 I dined the other day at Oriel, and was introduced to 
 Newman, and to Keble, the author of the Christian Year; 
 both of them men to whom I have looked up with great 
 interest and veneration. I had a conversation with our 
 Warden. Among other things, he said that he hoped I had 
 no idle sisters at home to interrupt my reading ; and 
 cautioned me against them — pray tell this to Louisa. 
 
 "I do not remember," the recollections continue, 
 
 1 Mv. Chiuroh was elected a member of the Uuion in February 
 1834. ^ 
 
I OXFORD 15 
 
 "when I first heard Newman preach. I did not for 
 some time much care to go to St. Mary's to the four 
 o'clock service, because I thought it rather a fashion 
 of a set who talked a kind of religious philosophy — 
 Evangelico-Coleridgian, and claimed at once to admire 
 Newman, whom the common set decried, and to admire 
 with reserve. It was said that the dinner hour at 
 Wadham was set to make it inconvenient. But whether 
 it was the first sermon or not, I remember the first 
 sermon that impressed me : the sermon on St. Andrew's 
 Day, ' The World's Benefactors.' It seemed to me so 
 entirely out of the beaten track of sermons, waking up 
 recollections of TroWh rh, heivh, and the Prometheus. 
 But I don't think I went frequently till later : till after 
 my degree. I was now in earnest reading for the 
 schools. Moberly helped me, and in my last term 
 R Michell very kindly let me come to him gratis, he 
 being in high request as a private tutor. I used to go 
 to him with Mules of B. N. C. (afterwards of Exeter), 
 and sometimes when he was shaving; and he used to 
 cross-question us in Ehetoric and Ethics. I went into 
 the schools (at the end of the October Term of 1836) 
 with no great hope. ... I was deeply disgusted with 
 the logic paper, and not much better pleased with the 
 succeeding ones. Marriott comforted me, saying that a 
 third was a very good class, and that classes were 
 altogether not of much account. And imder that 
 impression I went in for vivd, voce. The examiners were 
 F. Oakeley, H. B. Wilson, T. Twiss, and T. L. Olaughton. 
 I did not expect to shine in vivA voce, and I didn't. 
 
16 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 Claughton took me in ' science,' Twiss in history, Wilson 
 in translation, and I don't think I did anything well. 
 But I was thanked for my papers — 'science,' essay, 
 history, Latin — and that of course meant that my first 
 was safe. In due time the list came out. It was a 
 great surprise to me : and to the University I was a 
 dark horse. But it was more than a surprise. It 
 opened to me a new prospect : I had never thought 
 much of remaining at Oxford after my degree. From 
 most fellowships I was shut out, from having been born 
 abroad. But now I might think of going in for one 
 at Balliol or Oriel. And for this I made my account, 
 taking pupils in the meantime. And now I could dine 
 at high tables and go into Common rooms. From this 
 time, from the leisure following the schools, began my 
 closer connection with the men of the Movement — first 
 through Marriott, and men to whom he introduced me, 
 and then in time through Newman himself. There was 
 a year and a half between my degree (November 1836- 
 April 1838) and going to Oriel as Fellow. I had pupils, 
 and an exhibition at Wadham, which enabled me to 
 stay up at Oxford : I was reading with a view to the 
 Oriel Fellowship, and in Common rooms, etc., making 
 new out-college acquaintance, mainly of the Exeter and 
 Oriel men. I wrote for the English essay, on Mahomet, 
 which P. C. Claughton got : mine was a lumbering 
 affair, overweighted with information which I had not 
 the skill to use ; but I was disappointed at not getting 
 it. But what indicated the company into which I was 
 passing was my work on the translation of St. Cyril of 
 
I OXFORD 17 
 
 Jerusalem, on which I was employed through 1837, and 
 which was published in the autumn of 1838. It was 
 edited and prepared for press by J. H. N., who dated 
 his preface St. Matthew's Day, 1838. It was the second 
 of the series — St. Augustine's Confessions having been 
 the first. Looking back at it now I see the marks of 
 hurry. It is shamefully full of errata, his fault as much 
 as mine. And for its importance I don't think it was 
 adequately done. Indeed I never properly liked the 
 work, and did it rather as a task. I don't think I 
 knew enough to estimate its importance, and translating, 
 unless you have some enthusiasm, is flat work." 
 
 At this point the recollections end. Mr. Church's 
 note -books show that he was reading hard for the 
 Fellowship, and that his reading was taking a wider 
 range. Two entries in them are worth recording, for 
 the evidence they afiford of some of the influences by 
 which his mind was now being moulded. " It is a great 
 wish of mine," he notes down, " to be properly acquainted 
 with Butler, to lay the foundations of my own mind amid 
 his works — to have him ever facing me and imbuing me 
 with his spirit ; " and a little later, " there is something 
 in Maurice, and his master Coleridge, which wakens 
 thought in me more than any other writings almost : 
 ■with all their imputed mysticism they seem to me to 
 say plain things as often as most people." From the 
 time he took his degree he became a regular attendant 
 at St. Mary's. Mr. Newman's sermon, ''Ventures of 
 Faith," or as it was called when first published, " Make 
 Ventures for Christ's Sake," had already, in 1836, made 
 
 
 
18 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 a deep impression upon his mind, seeming to come to 
 him as a direct call to a deeper and more searching 
 reality in his religious life. It inspired his first great 
 practical effort at self-denial. It seemed to him, as he 
 looked back, to have been in some sort the turning point 
 of his life. 
 
 In April of 1838 Mr. Church stood for and gained 
 his Oriel Fellowship. The late Rector of Lincoln, 
 himself a candidate at Oriel at this election, speaks in 
 his Autobiography with generous appreciation of his 
 rival's success : ^ — " The successful candidates were 
 Church of Wadham, now Dean of St. Paul's, and J. C. 
 Prichard of Trinity. ... I presume that Church was 
 Newman's candidate, though so accomplished a scholar 
 as the Dean need not have required any party push. 
 I have always looked upon Church as the type of the 
 Oriel Fellow ; Richard Michell said, at the time of the 
 election : ' there is such a moral beauty about Church, 
 that they could not help taking him ! ' " 
 
 In a letter written in 1885 to Dr. Liddon,^ the Dean 
 describes the character which the examination took in 
 his day, and the forms which belonged to it : — " I wUl 
 try and put down what I remember of the Oriel Fellow- 
 ship examinations in the old time. They never advertised 
 vacancies in those days. The Provost held his head 
 high, and said if persons wanted to know if there were 
 any Fellowships to be filled up they could come and 
 inquire ; and it was only late in my residence that some 
 
 ^ Pattison's Memoirs, p. 163. 
 ^ Life of Dr. Pusey, vol. i. p. 66. 
 
I OXFORD 19 
 
 of the younger and more practical men carried the point 
 about advertising. Besides, in the older time, Oriel and 
 Balliol Fellowships were things that every one was keen 
 about, and every one knew without advertising how 
 many were to be tried for. The first thing was to call 
 on the Provost, and ask his leave to stand. He would 
 ask you what your plans were, and whether you knew 
 any of the Fellows, and what your family was, and 
 what your means were; for independent means were 
 held to exclude a man. ... If the Provost gave leave, 
 he told you that you were to write a Latin letter to 
 each of the Fellows, stating the grounds on which you 
 desired election, and on which you thought you might 
 be entitled to do so. This was not a mere formal 
 application, and in some cases it was a lengthy affair :- 
 it was meant to test a man's power of putting his own 
 personal case and wishes and intentions into Latin : 
 some of these letters were very good and characteristic. 
 You were also to call and present yourself to the Dean, 
 and some one or other of the Fellows, or else the Dean 
 asked you to dine and go to Common room, where of 
 course you were more or less trotted out and observed 
 upon. 
 
 " The examination was always in Easter week, and 
 lasted four days, from Monday to Thursday. I re- 
 ceived a card (I am speaking of 1838) from the Dean, 
 W. J. Copleston, telling me to be in hall at ten on 
 Monday, and bring with me a certain volume of the 
 Spectator. On Monday accordingly we all met in the 
 hall. We were told we might have as long as we liked 
 
20 DEAN OHUKCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 for our papers till it got too dark to see, but we should 
 not have candles : that the papers would be given us 
 together, which we might work at as we pleased ; but 
 that we must remain in the hall till we had done them, 
 or till we went out for good. There was to be no 
 break in the middle of the day to go out. Copleston 
 then told us what we were to do. We had a longish 
 passage from our Spectator to turn into Latin, and an 
 English essay to write on a passage of Bacon. And 
 then he left us to make what use of the time we liked. 
 Most of us worked on till about five. I remember 
 being bored at not knowing which paper to attack first. 
 It used to be said that when James Mozley was in for 
 the Fellowship he kept on till the last, and when it got 
 .dark lay down by the fire and wrote by firelight, and 
 produced an essay of about ten lines, but the ten lines 
 were such as no other man in Oxford could have 
 written. On Tuesday it was the same thing, the papers 
 being a Latin essay and, I think, a bit of English to be 
 transkted into Greek. On Wednesday a bit of Greek 
 to be translated into English, and a paper of so called 
 philosophical questions. But the work was mainly 
 composition and translation. The questions were very 
 general, not involving directly much knowledge, but 
 trying how a man could treat ordinary questions which 
 interest cultivated men. It was altogether a trial, not 
 of how much men knew, but of how they knew, and 
 what they could do. The last two days were varied by 
 excursions to the ' Tower ' for lAvA voce, which was made 
 a good deal of. One of the Fellows called you out of 
 
I OXFORD 21 
 
 the hall, and led you up a winding cork-screw staircase, 
 at the top of which a door opened, and let you into the 
 presence of the assembled Fellows seated round a table 
 with pen and paper before them. You were placed 
 before a desk, on which were Latin and Greek texts. 
 You were given one of these, and told to look over a 
 given passage for two minutes or one minute, or to read 
 it off at sight and translate it. This you did in perfect 
 silence round you — the only thing heard, besides your 
 own voice, being the scratching of a dozen pens at the 
 table. You bungled through it without remark, and 
 another book was given you, and then another — the 
 last being perhaps some unintelligible passage from 
 Plutarch about the moon or the like. When you had 
 done the Provost thanked you, and another Junior 
 Fellow took charge of you, conversing pleasantly with 
 you in your stupified condition, and escorted you to the 
 Common room, where you remained for the rest of the 
 time. The next and last day vivd voce again, in the 
 same way, not quite so bad, because you were more 
 accustomed to it, but still very horrible ; and then you 
 went home. If you were elected, the Provost's servant 
 called on you the next day, with the Provost's com- 
 pliments, and requested your presence at the scene of 
 your late torture, the Tower ; and you went and received 
 the congratulations of the Provost and Fellows; and 
 later, you were admitted probationer Fellow in chapel. 
 You were introduced after service by one of the Junior 
 Fellows, who led you to the Provost's stall, and the 
 Provost, as if much surprised, asked you ' Domine, quid 
 
22 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 petis 1 ' to which you answered, Peto beneficium 
 hujusce collegii in annum,' which the Provost graciously- 
 conceded to you, and you were conducted to your 
 place." 
 
 With Mr. Church's success at Oriel new thoughts 
 and new prospects opened upon him. If he had looked 
 forward before, it had been to taking orders when he 
 left Oxford, and settling down to a quiet scholar's life 
 in some country parish, where he might have plenty 
 of leisure for thought and reading. But at Oriel he 
 found himself at once brought into contact with new 
 and powerful influences. In 1838, the Oxford Move- 
 ment was already preparing to pass out of its earlier 
 stages and on towards its stormy conclusion, and Mr. 
 Church took his place in its ranks, where he soon 
 became connected, in different degrees of intimacy, 
 with the group of younger men round Newman, who 
 wfere to affect the character of its later development. 
 Two friendships, in particular, both of them lasting un- 
 broken through life, date from this period. One of 
 them was with Mr., afterwards Sir Frederic Eogers, 
 who became Lord Blachford — a former pupil of Hurrell 
 Fronde's and an intimate friend of Mr. Newman's — 
 himself a Fellow of Oriel. The other was with James 
 Mozley. But above all, Mr. Church was brought by 
 his residence at Oriel into personal intimacy with Mr. 
 Newman himself; and to the influence which the 
 sermons at St. Mary's had already exerted, was now 
 added that of a daily companionship, which soon grew 
 into a friendship of the closest and most familiar kind. 
 
I ■ OXFORD 23 
 
 The letters of the next seven years deal very incom- 
 pletely, alike with the Tractarian Movement at Oxford 
 and with Mr. Church's share in it. Up to 1845 his 
 intimate friends were for the most part, like himself, 
 resident in Oxford, and constant intercourse took the 
 place of letter-writing. Some letters remain which were 
 written to Mr. Eogers after he had left Oriel for London ; 
 but his only regular correspondent was his mother, who 
 knew little of Oxford, and who was still deeply attached 
 to the Evangelical teaching of her youth. This, though 
 it could not disturb the confidence and affection which 
 existed between them, made it natural that Mr. Church 
 in his letters to her should dwell rather on the personal 
 aspects of his life at Oxford, than on the varying phases 
 of the Movement in which he was taking his share. 
 
 Mr. Church's ordination took place at Christmas, 1839, 
 in St. Mary's, in company, among others, with A. P. 
 Stanley, whose contemporary he was. "I shall read," 
 he writes after it to his mother, " for the first time in 
 St. Mary's on Sunday in the afternoon at four o'clock. 
 It is trying, as it is rather a large church, and difficult 
 to read in. But it is the custom for the Fellows of 
 Oriel to read there for the first time." The two follow- 
 ing years saw him fairly settled in his new life. Within 
 the year which followed his election to the Fellowship 
 he found himself obliged, reluctantly enough, to take a 
 vacant tutorship at Oriel. The work was not in its 
 nature congenial to him, and it interfered beyond all 
 anticipation with his schemes for reading. "Oh the 
 weight of this tutorship," he sighs, "instead of quiet 
 
24 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 reading." But he found time, in addition to his work 
 with his pupils, and his own reading, for pushing on his 
 studies in new directions. 
 
 To HIS Mother, 
 
 Geibl, 11th March 1839. 
 I have just been attending a course of lectures on anatomy, 
 which have not had the effect usually ascribed to them of 
 making people valetudinarians. I cannot say that my 
 equanimity either was or is much disturbed. I am afraid I 
 am very hard-hearted, for I neither found it requisite to turn 
 pale when others did, nor did the reflection that I had seen 
 strange sights interfere with my dinner or sleep. However, 
 I cannot say I should like a doctor's business ; it is one 
 thing to see things where there can be no pain, and another 
 to operate oneself on a living man. . . . My vacation will 
 be a short and broken one, I am sorry to say. I shall have 
 to be back here again by Easter Sunday to be admitted 
 actual Fellow, but I shall return to you after that I hope. 
 It seems so strange to think that it was but a yeai" ago that I 
 was trembling and shrinking on the verge of my examination. 
 I did not dream then of being tutor here on the next anni- 
 versary. 
 
 Of his work as tutor he writes again, in half-humor- 
 ous complaint, to his mother, who was then living at 
 Burnham : — 
 
 OaiBL, 5th May 1839. 
 
 Oxford is very pleasant: the gardens are looking very 
 beautiful in this fine weather. But I miss the. liberty of 
 Burnham. Instead of lounging out at my pleasure, or look- 
 ing through the Beeches at the sky, I am tied all the 
 
I OXFORD 25 
 
 morning, and can only see how fine it is out of doors throngli 
 the windows : and my chief objects of contemplation are the 
 impudent faces, gay waistcoats, sparkling breast-pins, tattered 
 gowns and unread books of my " young friends," the under- 
 graduates, — dear creatures, who come in steaming and per- 
 fuming my room with every possible combination of tobacco 
 smoke, scents, and pomatum. However, I am rather hard 
 on them ; they don't all smoke, and scent themselves, and 
 look impudent, but I had a strong contrast in my mind 
 between them and the Beeches, which none of them look 
 impudent. 
 
 A few weeks of the Long Vacation of 1839 were 
 spent abroad in company with Stanley and Frederick 
 Faber, exploring Belgian cities, seeing Treves and 
 Cologne, and wandering about the valley of the Moselle. 
 The Slimmer following found him boating off the Isle of 
 Wight with Charles Marriott and J. A. Froude. A 
 considerable portion of the vacations, however, from this 
 time onwards was spent at Oxford. Residence at 
 Oxford especially during the leisure of Long Vacations, 
 for the sake of quiet study, had been a point often and 
 strongly insisted upon by Mr. Newman, for himself and 
 for his brother Fellows, and it became more and more 
 a habit with Mr. Church as years went on. A letter to 
 his mother during the Long Vacation of 1840 shows 
 that it was already not without its charm for him : — 
 
 Oriel, 21s< July 1840. 
 I write a line to say that I am quite well, and hope that 
 you do not think I am so exceedingly desolate and solitary 
 that I shall end with hanging myself. Really if folks knew 
 
26 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 how pleasant Oxford is in the Long Vacation I think that 
 they would spoil the quiet by coming up here. There are 
 not very many people in residence, but of those who are 
 here, one sees so much more than at other times that if they 
 are a decent lot of people, the quality makes up for the 
 diminution of quantity in the article of society. Newman, 
 Eogers, and myself compose the residents at Oriel now, and 
 we have it very cosily to ourselves, seeing the five or six 
 out-coUege friends, who are up, whenever we please. . . . 
 Just now I am' very busy, and can hardly spare a morning. 
 I may, however, run down on Saturday for the day, but I 
 must return in the evening, as I have work here on Sunday. 
 
 But this succession of work and quiet reading was 
 not destined to go on long undisturbed. The following 
 letter gives a budget of Oxford news, and sbows in its 
 sketch of the little knot of men meeting in the tower 
 over Exeter gateway to "talk strong," as the phrase 
 was, that already some of the elements of danger were 
 not wanting. A few months later, in February of 
 1841,^ Mr. Newman brought out No. 90 of the Tracts 
 
 '' In his dedication, in 1871, to Dean Church, of a new edition of 
 his voliime of University sermons, Dr. Newman himself recalls the 
 close and intimate friendship which existed between them at this time. 
 " For you were one of those dear friends resident in Oxford . . . 
 who in those trying five years, from 1841 to 1845, in the course of 
 which this volume was given to the world, did so much to comfort and 
 uphold me by their patient,*tender kindness, and their zealous services 
 in my behalf. I cannot forget how, in the February of 1841, you 
 suffered me day after day to open to you my anxieties and plans, as 
 events successively elicited them ; and much less can I lose the 
 memory of your great act of friendship, as well as of justice and courage, 
 in the February of 1845, your Proctor's year, when you, with another 
 now departed, shielded me from the 'civium 'ardor prava jubentium' 
 by the interposition of a prerogative belonging to your academical 
 position." 
 
I OXFORD 27 
 
 for the Times, and with its appearance began the storm 
 of controversy which was to last with little abatement 
 until the final break-up of the Tractarian party in 1845. 
 
 To Fredeeio Bogeks, Esq. 
 
 Obibl, In Vigil. Fest. Omn. SS., 1840. 
 My dear Rogers — . . . Now I suppose I must send you 
 some gossip, which, I fear, is the unprofitable stufling of most 
 of my epistles. I wish you had waited to hear SeweU make 
 eTTiSet^ets about Ireland. He is chock-full up to the throat 
 about it, and whoever he comes across is sure to have a 
 quantity of "little traits," and "illustrations," and "striking 
 little facts,'' poured out for his edification. He had got up 
 a great scheme for converting the Irish by means of scripture 
 readers, who should make shoes and mend kettles half the 
 day, and controvert the rest : but he was snubbed by Pusey 
 and J. H. N., each in his own way, which has made him 
 melancholy and out of sorts. He is quite Irish-mad : thinks 
 Popery there " diabolical," and the Irish clergy a noble set of 
 fellows, who are improving fast. . . . What do you think of 
 the Bishop of Chichester offering the Principalship (of the 
 Theological College) to Golightly ? It was intended to be 
 done quietly, but Golightly told Eden, and Eden told it me 
 across the table at dinner, and then recollected it was a 
 secret. Q., on mature deliberation, refused, alleging that 
 people here-would not send him any disciples ; and he walks 
 about looking as pleased as if he had refused a piece of pre- 
 ferment. Pugin has been staying with Bloxam. . . . The 
 only specimens of Oxford that Pugin saw must have edified 
 him. Jack Morris had invited the rest of the " Mountain " 
 (Newman's name for them), i.e. Ward, Bloxam, and Bowyer, 
 
28 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 to dine with him in the Tower and " talk strong " : and to 
 their delight Bloxam brought Pugin as his umbra. Ward is 
 said to have repeatedly jumped up and almost screamed in 
 ecstasy at what was said, and Bowyer and Pugin had a fight 
 about Gothic and Italian architecture ; but what else took 
 place I know not. Morris is not pleased with Pugin, how- 
 ever : I wonder if he has humbugged Bloxam. Do you 
 know Bowyer ? I wish he would not come here so much ; 
 his line ia to defend what everybody else gives up, and he 
 took the side of O'Oonnell and his friends against Pugin. 
 These theological cm/tTroo-ia up in the Tower, where they 
 " talk strong," as Morris says, and laugh till their heads are 
 dizzy, are ticklish things. I met Qooch up there yesterday, 
 and had to defend myself for thinking Hooker not merely a 
 respectable person, but a Catholic divine, and entitled to be 
 looked up to as a teacher. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Ohueoh. 
 
 Writing to Mr. Rogers, who was at the time in Italy, 
 just before the appearance of No. 90, Mr. Church had 
 said : — " J. H. N. is just publishing a new tract about 
 the Articles : he thinks it will make no row. Ward 
 thinks it will." A second letter, a month later, describes 
 the storm which had now broken in earnest : — 
 
 To Prbderic Kogees, Esq. 
 
 Oriel, Uth March 1841. 
 My dear Rogers — I quite dread to begin a letter to you, 
 not from lack but from abundance of matter. Don't, how- 
 ever, prick up your ears too high, 'else you may be disap- 
 pointed : people on the spot can scarcely tell what is great 
 
I OXFORD 29 
 
 and what little ; yet I think that curious things have 
 happened since I wrote last. I think I told you that the 
 Times had been letting in letters signed Catholicus, against 
 Sir E. Peel, criticising an address delivered by him to the 
 Tamworth Reading-Eoom, in which he took Lord Brougham's 
 scientific natural-theology line ; and not only had let them 
 in, but puffed them in its leading article, without, however, 
 giving up Peel. These said letters, signed Catholicus, with 
 one or two others of the same sort on duelling, etc., were 
 thought to smack strongly of Puseyism, and brought out 
 furious attacks on the said Puseyites in the Qlohe ; expostula- 
 tions and remonstrances, on political and theological grounds, 
 from the poor old Standard ; and a triumphant Macaulayism 
 in the Morning Ghronicle, in which the writer, with great 
 cleverness, drew a picture of the alliance between effete, 
 plausible, hollow Toryism, with Puseyism, which he described 
 as a principle which for earnestness and strength had had no 
 parallel since the Eeformers and Puritans, and rejoiced greatly 
 over the prospect that Puseyism must soon blow Toryism to 
 shivers. And the Olohe admitted that people were most 
 egregiously out in supposing that this same Puseyism was an 
 affair of vestments and ceremonies ; that it was, on the 
 contrary, something far deeper and more dangerous. Such 
 was the state of things out of doors last month. Meanwhile, 
 about the beginning of this month, a debate took place in the 
 House of Commons about Maynooth, in which Lord Morpeth 
 made a savage attack on Oxford, as being a place where 
 people, who were paid for teaching Protestantism, were doing 
 all they could to bring things nearer and nearer to Eome, and 
 suggested that this would be a fitter subject for parliamentary 
 inquiry than Maynooth. Sir E. Inglis, of course, said that 
 the University was not responsible for the Tracts for the 
 
30 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 Times, and so on ; and O'Connell said that the Puseyites 
 were breaking their oaths. This brought a strong article in 
 the Times, in which, without identifying itself with us here 
 theologically, it stoutly defended the Tract, writers from being 
 ill-affected to the Church of England, fully entered into their 
 dislike of the word " Protestant," and ended by saying that 
 it had said so much because it had been " misled some time 
 ago by the authority quoted by Lord Morpeth " (The Church 
 of England Quarterly), " to speak of them in terms of harsh- 
 ness which it now regretted." This, of course, was called 
 " ominous " by the Conservatives and Whigs together, and 
 the Times was accused of Puseyism. This led to a second 
 article in the Times, in which, carefully guarding against 
 identifying themselves, they gave j, very good sketch of the 
 history of things from the meeting at Eose's house, written 
 as accurately and in as good a spirit, as any one could wish, 
 and went on to puff the strength and importance of the party, 
 the great good it had done, and the strictness, high principle, 
 and so on, of the people up here. This astonished people 
 not a little ; but in spite of wondering letters and remon- 
 strances, the Times kept its ground in a third article, stiU 
 not professing to be able to enter into the merits of the theo- 
 logical controversy, but maintaining that these Oxford people 
 were the only people who had done, or were likely to do, 
 any good in the Church ; that they had stopped the attacks 
 on the Liturgy and Articles which had been made, or most 
 weakly met, by Conservatives and Evangelicals, and that, let 
 people say what they please, they were making way fast. 
 
 Three days before this article in the Times, Newman 
 published a new Tract, No. 90, the object of which was to 
 show how patient the Articles are of a Catholic interpretation, 
 on certain points where they have been usually taken to 
 
t OXFORD 31 
 
 pronounce an unqualified condemnation of Catholic doctrines 
 or opinions, or to maintain Protestant ones ; e.g. that the 
 article on Masses did not condemn the Sacrifice of the Mass, 
 or that on Purgatory, all Catholic opinions on the subject, 
 but only that - " Eomanensium," assuming that to be meant 
 which is spoken of in the Homilies. The chief points were, 
 of course. Scripture, the Church, General Councils, Justi- 
 fication, Purgatory, Invocation of Saints, Masses, Homilies, 
 Celibacy of Clergy, and the Pope : on all these points 
 speaking pretty freely, and putting out explicitly what of 
 course many must have felt more or less for a long time. 
 He must have the credit of having taken some pains to find 
 out beforehand whether it was likely to make much row. 
 He did not think it would be more attacked than others, 
 nor did Keble or H. Wilberforce. Ward, however, pro- 
 phesied from the first that it would be hotly received, and 
 so it proved. It came out at an unlucky time, just when 
 people here were frightened to death and puzzled by the 
 tone of the papers, and galled by Lord Morpeth's and 
 O'Connell's attacks. Tait of Balliol first began to talli: 
 fiercely ; he had thought himself secure behind the Articles, 
 and found his entrenchments suddenly turned. But he was, 
 after all, merely a skirmisher set on to rouse people by 
 Golightly, whose genius and activity have contributed in 
 the greatest degree to raise and direct the storm. He saw 
 his advantage from the first, and has used it well. He first 
 puffed the tract aU over Oxford as the greatest " curiosity " 
 that had been seen for some time ; his diligence and activity 
 were unwearied. He then turned his attention to the 
 country, became a purchaser of No. 90 to such an amount 
 that Parker could hardly supply him, and sent copies to all 
 the bishops, etc. In the course of a week he had got the 
 
32 DEAlSr CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 agitation into a satisfactory state, and Ms efforts were re- 
 doubled. He tten made an application to the Rector of 
 Exeter to be allowed to come and state the case to Mm, with 
 the view of his heading a movement ; but he was politely 
 refused admittance. He had better success with the Warden 
 of Wadham. It was determined, in the first instance, to 
 move the tutors ; and accordingly last Monday came a letter 
 to the editor of the Tracts, attacking No. 90, as removing all 
 fences against Eome, and calling on the said editor to give 
 up the name of the writer. This was signed by four senior 
 tutors, Churton, B.N.C.; Wilson, St. John's; Griflths, 
 Wadham ; and Tait — gentlemen who had scarcely the 
 happiness of each other's acquaintance till Golightiys skill 
 harnessed them together. He fought hard to get Eden, but 
 failed ; as also in Ms attempts on Johnson of Queen's, and 
 Twiss, and Hansell, and Hussey, etc. etc. This absurd 
 move merely brought an acknowledgment of their note 
 from the editor, and they printed their letter, and so this 
 matter ended. But it soon became known that the Heads 
 were furious, and meant to move ; driven frantic by G; and 
 the StandcM-d, they met, full of mischief ; but it was judged 
 expedient to separate airpaKToi, partly from the press of 
 business, and especially because it appeared that mcmy had 
 not read No. 90. 
 
 At their second meeting all present were for proceeding, 
 except the Rector of Exeter and the Exeter Proctor, Dayman ; 
 but aU the Board did not come. The new Warden of New 
 College seized the opportunity to take an airing instead of 
 "disputing about dificult points. The matter was referred to 
 a committee, and we are now waiting their decision. It 
 seems, however, certain that they are afraid to try Convoca- 
 tion ; this would be their game, and they would carry it I 
 
I OXFORD 33 
 
 think, but they will not venture on the risk. Meanwhile 
 Newman is very much relieved by having got a load off his 
 back, and has been pretty cheerful ; the thought of Con- 
 vocation harassed him and Keble very much. He is 
 writing an explanation, but he thinks that his Tract-writing 
 is done for. He is pretty confident about the Bishop of 
 Oxford, and he has been very kindly backed up. W. 
 Palmer of Worcester, as soon as the row began, wrote him 
 a very kind letter, speaking of No. 90 as the most valuable 
 that had appeared, as likely to break down traditionary 
 interpretations, and lead to greater agreement on essentials, 
 and toleration of Catholic opinions. A. Perceval also wrote 
 to much the same effect. Keble wrote to the Vice-Chancellor, 
 taking an equal share of responsibility in the Tracts. Pusey 
 has also written, but he is very much cast down about the 
 turn things have taken, — thinks the game up, and, inter nos, 
 does not agree with Newman's view of the Articles, though 
 he softens down. 
 
 The row, which has been prodigious, they say, has made 
 Golightly a great man. He now ventures to patronise the 
 Provost, who even condescended to lose his breakfast t'other 
 day to hear G. prose. He has received letters of thanks for 
 his great and indefatigable exertions, from four .bishops, 
 London, Chester, Chichester, and Winton. It is supposed 
 that a niche will be left for him among the great Reformers, 
 in the Memorial, and that his life will be put in Biographi- 
 cal Dictionaries. Newman talks of him as a future "great 
 man.'' I shall finish in a day or two. You will be sorry 
 to hear that Sam Wilberforce has lost his wife. His Bamp- 
 tons are given up. 
 
 21s< March. — As soon as it became known that the Heads 
 meant to fall upon No. 90, Newman began writing a short 
 
 D 
 
34 DEAN CHUEOH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 pampUet to explain its statements and olyjeets, and let the 
 Heads know that it was coming, throngli Pusey and the 
 Provost. However, they thought it undignified or awkward 
 to wait, and on Monday last they "resolved" that "No. 90 
 suggested a mode of interpreting the Articles which evaded 
 rather than explained " them, and " which defeated the 
 object, and was inconsistent with the observance of the 
 statutes,'' about them. All agreed except Eouth and 
 Richards and Dayman, who protested strongly. 
 
 As soon as this was published, Newman wrote a short 
 letter to the Vice-Chancellor avowing the authorship, and, 
 without giving up the principle of the Tract, taking their 
 sentence with a calm and lofty meekness, that must have 
 let in a new light into those excellent old gentlemen. 
 Newman making an apology to Pox, Grayson, and Company ! 
 This softened many people ; even the Provost, who is very 
 strong, thought it necessary to butter a little about " excel- 
 lent spirit under trying circumstances," etc. And soon after 
 came out Newman's explanation in a letter to JeK : his 
 point being to defend himself against the charges (1) of dis- 
 honesty and evasion, and (2) of wantonness. This has rather 
 staggered people, i.e. as to the immediate move. I think 
 they feel that he has shown they did not take quite time 
 enough to understand his meaning, and he has brought 
 together for their benefit, in a short compass, and in a 
 pamphlet that everybody is sure to read, some disagreeable 
 facts and statements from our Divines. And the Heads 
 show that they feel it rather a floor for the present, by 
 affecting to consider it, which it is not in the least (judice 
 Ward), a retractation or reconsideration, as our Provost said to 
 Newman. So the matter has ended here, as far as public 
 measures go. On one side we have escaped the bore and 
 
I OXFORD 35 
 
 defeat of Convocation, and the Heads are loudly condemned 
 on all hands for an arbitrary and hasty act, by which they 
 have usurped the powers of Convocation, of which they are 
 supposed to be afraid. Newman, personally, has appeared 
 to great advantage, has made argumentatively a very strong 
 case, which has checked and baflBed them for the time, and 
 weakened the effect of their authority by showing that they 
 did not know who or what they were dealing with. And 
 Newman himself feels that he may now breathe and speak 
 more freely. On the other hand, they have at last been 
 able to deal a hard slap from authority, and the mass of the 
 people in the country will be humbugged into thinking this 
 a formal act of the University. Great exertions have been 
 made both in England and Ireland to frighten people, and, 
 I should think, have been very successful. 
 
 And then it remains to be seen what the Bishops will do. 
 They were at first very much disgusted, and we heard all 
 sorts of rumours about meetings in London, and attempts to 
 stir up the Bishop of Oxford. But whatever their first 
 impulse may have been, they have this week seen reason to 
 think that their best course is to keep things quiet as far as 
 they possibly can. Last week the Bishop of Oxford wrote 
 to Pusey, expressing the pain he felt at the Tract, and 
 enclosing a letter to Newman, which contained a proposal 
 to Newman to do something which he hoped he would not 
 refuse. Newman's anxiety was not a little relieved when 
 he found, on opening the letter, that what the Bishop wished 
 was that he would undertake not to discuss the Articles any 
 more in the Tracts. Newman wrote back offering to do 
 anything the Bishop wished, — suppress No. 90, or stop the 
 Tracts, or give up St. Mary's ; which brought back a most 
 kind letter, expressing his " great satisfaction " (almost as if 
 
36 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 it was more than lie expected), and saying that in anything 
 he might say hereafter he (Newman) and his friends need- 
 fear nothing disagreeable or painful. And in his letter to 
 Pusey he quite disconnects himself from the charges brought 
 by the Tutors and Heads of evasion. Newman was en- 
 couraged by this to open his heart rather freely to the 
 Bishop, and is now waiting the answer. So far, things look 
 well. . . . 
 
 People in the country have in general backed up man- 
 fully and heartily. Newman has had most kind letters of 
 approval and concurrence from W. Palmer of Worcester, A. 
 Perceval, Hook, Todd, and Moberly. B. Harrison is shocked 
 rather. But Pusey, I fear, has been much annoyed. He 
 scarcely agrees with Newman's view, and though he is very 
 kind, I think there is no doubt he much regrets the publican 
 tion ; indeed, there is a false report, which yet indicates 
 something, that he is working against Newman. A great 
 difficulty with him and with the Bishop is that Newman has 
 committed himself to leaving " Ora pro nobis " an open 
 question. 
 
 The Moral Philosophy Professor [Sewell] has seized the 
 opportunity to publish a letter, nominally to Pusey, but 
 really to Messrs. Magee and the Irish peculiars, in which he 
 deeply laments the Tract, as incautious, tending to unsettle 
 and shake people's faith in the English Church, and leading 
 men to receive paradoxes and therefore errors (good — vide 
 Sewell's Christian Ethics), and after feelingly reminding 
 Pusey of his own services once on a time in the Quarterly 
 Review, strongly disclaims any connection with the Tracts 
 and their authors, recommending that they should cease. 
 " Longum, formose, vale, vale, — loUa." 
 
 The papers have been full of the row, which has stirred 
 
1 OXFORD 37 
 
 up London itself in no common manner ; 2500 copies sold 
 off in less titan a fortnight. . . . The Times has " confessed 
 it knew not what to do, both parties were so learned and 
 good ; " so it has contented itself with criticising the style of 
 the Four Tutors, reprehending those who could substitute 
 authority for argument, admiring the dignified way in which 
 the controversy has been carried on, and puffing Dr. Jelf, to 
 whom Newman addressed his letter. One hardly knows 
 how things are at this moment. They say Arnold is going 
 to write against Newman. 
 
 I have no more room, so good-bye. Just received your 
 letter from Naples. Many thanks. — Ever yours affection- 
 ately, R. W. C. 
 
 In a postscript to the letter, follow a few lines from 
 Mr. Newman himself : — 
 
 Caeissime — Church has told you the scrape I have got 
 into. Yet, though my own infirmity mixes with everything 
 I do, I trust you would approve of my position much. I 
 now am in my right place, which I have long wished to be 
 in, which I did not know how to attain, and which has 
 been brought about without my intention, I hope I may say 
 providentially, though 1 am perfectly aware, at the same 
 time, that it is a rebuke and punishment for my secret pride 
 and sloth. I do not think, indeed I know I have not had 
 one misgiving about what I have done, though I have done 
 it in imperfection ; — and, so be it, all will turn out well. 
 I cannot anticipate what will be the result of it in this place 
 or elsewhere as regards myself. Somehow I do not fear for 
 the cause. . . . — Ever yours aflfectionately, J. H. N. 
 
 A year later, Dr. Arnold, as Professor of Modern 
 
38 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 History, was delivering Ms famous series of lectures. 
 The following letter, whilst it records the impression 
 .made by the lectures in Oxford, shows the keen interest 
 with which Mr. Church already entered into all branches 
 of history : — 
 
 To Fbedeeio Eogees, Esq. 
 
 Oriel, February 1842. 
 
 Mt dear Rogers — . . . The great lion at present is 
 Arnold and his lectures, which have created a great stir in 
 the exalted, the literary, and the fashionable world of 
 Oxford.. He is here with his whole family ; and people 
 look forward to his lecture in the theatre, day after day, as 
 they might to a play. He will he quite missed when he 
 goes. Almost every Head goes with his wife and daughters, 
 if he has any ; and so powerful is Arnold's eloquence, that 
 the Master of Balliol'was on one occasion quite overcome, 
 and fairly went — not quite into hysterics, hut into tears — 
 upon which the Provost remarked, at a large party, that " he 
 supposed it was the gout." 
 
 However, they are very striking lectures. . . . He ia 
 working out his inaugural. Everything he does, he does 
 with life and force ; and I cannot help liking his manly and 
 open way, and the great reality which he throws about such 
 things as descriptions of country, military laws and operations, 
 and such-like low concerns. He has exercised, on the whole, 
 a generous forbearance towards us, and let us off with a few 
 angular points about Priesthood and the Puritans in one 
 lecture ; while he has been immensely liberal in some other 
 ways, and, I should think, not to the taste of the Capitular 
 body ; e.g. puffing with aU his might the magnificent age 
 
I OXFORD 39 
 
 and intensely interesting contests of Innocent III. ; and 
 allowing any one to believe, without any suspicion of super- 
 stition, a very great many of Bede's miracles, and some others 
 besides. . . . — Yours ever affectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 The publication of Tract 90 was not long without 
 its personal bearings on Mr. Church's position at Oriel. 
 His connection with the Movement, emphasised through 
 his intimacy with Mr. Newman, brought on him the 
 suspicion, common at the time, of disloyalty to the 
 English Church. He belonged to a college whose Head 
 was one of the most active opponents to the Tractarian 
 party in Oxford ; and upon the appearance of the Tract 
 he wrote stating to the Provost, Dr. Hawkins, his general 
 agreement with the line taken by it in regard to the 
 Articles, and offering to resign his tutorship. After 
 some hesitation the offer was. accepted. 
 
 To Db. Moberly. 
 
 Oriel, 26th Mim 1842. 
 My dear G. — The Provost himself has settled things. I 
 have kept quiet, and meant to do so, as you advised me, 
 though both Newman and Rogers were for bringing matters 
 to an issue now. However, yesterday the Provost sent for 
 me, and said that if I was still of the same mind as when I 
 wrote to him, he did not see how he could consistently con- 
 tinue me as tutor. He was very kind, offered me to take 
 my time to reconsider matters (of course not lecturing on the 
 Articles), and regretted much having to take this course. 
 This, however, I declined ; it would not he honest to talk of 
 reconsidering, or to hold out hopes of changing one's mind ; 
 
40 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 nor, of course, sliould I like to hold the tutorship, giving up 
 myself, and throwing on others, the responsibility which is 
 particularly annexed to the Statutes. He then proposed a 
 reference to the Vice-Chancellor without mentioning names, 
 but this also, for very obvious reasons, I have since declined. 
 I am now, therefore, expecting to hear from him finally. 
 
 The Provost is playing a bold game. Daman and 
 Priohard are both going to be married this summer, and 
 have given up their tutorships, so that of the four, there are 
 three vacant ; and one of the three juniors is somewhat (and 
 not a little) stronger than I am. I am, I confess, anxious to 
 let the Provost know somehow or other, without seeming to 
 be patronising, that I am quite willing to do anything I can 
 consistently to help him, in the way of continuing lecturea 
 He is rather a trying person to have to deal with. With 
 all his candour, he has no notion of putting another case 
 fairly before him, though I believe he tries often to do it. 
 Of course one who agreed with No. 90 would not quite 
 lecture on the Articles as the Provost would approve ; but 
 he is not content with this, but goes on caricaturing his 
 supposed lecture, representing one as intending to make No. 
 90 and its bare, unqualified, negative statements one's text- 
 book and model for teaching undergraduates, who have 
 forgotten their Catechism. 
 
 The Provost was again at his distinction hatween principles 
 and modes of arguing, which, unluckily, always fails, like Dr. 
 Daubeny's experiments, when tried in detail. It tries one's 
 muscles, too, to be told that the Board "were not to be 
 supposed to be acquainted with Newman's other writings ; " 
 " could not know that No. 90 was his," — and could only look 
 at it as an isolated anonymous publication. — Yours affection- 
 ately, R. W. Church. 
 
J OXFORD 41 
 
 To THE Eev. J. H. Newman. 
 
 26iA Jwne. 
 My dear Newman — I did not see tlie Provost to speak 
 to, after I left you, so I sent him a note, saying that I had 
 rather that the matter should not be referred to the Vice- 
 Chancellor, and that it would be absurd in me to ask for 
 time to reconsider. So things stand. He is puzzled about 
 our own Divines. He asked whether Andrewes, Bull, etc., 
 would agree.with No. 90. I said I did not know whether 
 every one would agree with every word of the Tract, but 
 that I thought they would strongly condemn and repudiate 
 the censure of the Heads of Houses. I have written to 
 Moberly : I don't know which of us, the Provost or myself, 
 will vex him most. — Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Chhboh. 
 
 The year 1842 savr the introduction, by Sir Eobert 
 Peel, of the Income-tax. To Mr. Church, who had 
 become Treasurer of his college, the new and unfamiliar 
 regulations which accompanied its working brought a 
 good deal of additional labour. He writes to his mother : 
 "Term ends in about three weeks, but I am such a 
 great man that I cannot move without putting the college 
 in a fidget — Provost, Fellows, tenants, masons, carpenters, 
 and painters all having such an intense interest in me, 
 and attachment to me, that they cannot bear me out of 
 their sight." And again a little earlier in the term : — 
 
 Oriel, 11th October 1842. 
 I am just getting out of the horrors of audif^ and write a 
 line home, as one takes in a breath of fresh air. . . . For 
 
42 DEAN CHUEGH'S LIFE AND LETTEKS pakt 
 
 four mortal days have we been at it, living on accounts (and 
 sandwiches) from ten till near six, with nothing hut ledgers 
 and account hooks, big, middling, and little, old and new, 
 red, green, and white, meeting one's eye — nothing to amuse 
 one but corn rents and money rents, consols and reduced 
 annuities, sums in long addition and long division, practice, 
 and interest — all of us shut up in a queer old tower, turned 
 into men of business for the nonce, writing and cyphering 
 away like mad, all in our gowns, and all our work a good 
 part in Latin. One gets into such a habit of dealing with 
 figures, that one can scarcely help their coming out "all 
 promiscuously," as the phrase is, from the end of one's pen ; 
 one almost forgets that there is anything else in the world. 
 . . . Well, there is enough nonsense scribbled to enable 
 me to go through another day of audit, over which the blank, 
 mysterious spectre of Income-tax hangs menacingly, in- 
 explicable by men and lawyers. 
 
 ZSrd October. 
 I forget when I wrote to you last — I think it was when 
 I was in the middle of audit. That is happily now over, 
 and I escaped without any serious mistakes proved against 
 me. But oh ! the miseries entailed upon unhappy Treasurers 
 of colleges by the Income-tax, especially if they are unlucky 
 enough to have Provosts to do business with, who like making 
 the most of whatever business falls in their way, and spin it 
 out as long as it will last. First comes the question how the 
 return is to be made. Now the Act not being over-clear, 
 and the affairs of a college, with a large rental and large 
 expenditure coming in and going out in all sorts of ways, 
 not having been especially provided for, there is room left 
 for a variety of smaU perplexities and difficulties such as the 
 Provost loves. . . . The process is as follows : — At one o'clock 
 
I OXFORD 43 
 
 I wait on the Provost. We get our books and papers, and 
 the blank form to fill up. Something is to be put down. 
 The Provost starts a difficulty ; 1 hold my tongue while he 
 hunts it down. When he has caught it and settled it, he 
 catches. sight of a second ; so to despatch this more deliberately, 
 he leaves the books and draws his chair to the fire, puts his 
 feet on the fender, and begins disputing most vigorously the 
 pros and cons of the new puzzle — all with himself, just like 
 a dog running round after his own tail. At last he grabs 
 it, gives it a hard bite, and then perhaps returns to the table 
 again, much gratified, but not much the wiser for his exercise, 
 whilst poor I have been standing patiently by while this 
 amusement has been going on. And so things go on, with 
 much talk and little done, till four o'clock. And much of 
 the same fun is still to come. I should like to roast Sir R. 
 Peel with all the returns made about his Tax. 
 
 , A letter written during the same term refers to Mr. 
 Church's first venture in original literary work on any 
 considerable scale. The essays on Anselm and William 
 Eufus, and Anselm and Henry I., were republished in 
 1853 in his volume of Essays and Beviews. 
 
 To HIS Mother. 
 
 Oeibl, 12ih November 1842. 
 I am hard at work on an article for the British Gritic, on 
 the life of a certain Archbishop of Canterbury, named Anselm, 
 who was a very great man in the eyes of people a long while 
 ago, but has been shelved a good while now, for having had 
 the misfortune- to be a monk and a papist. He lived in the 
 days of a certain unspeakable scamp of a king called William 
 
44 DEAN CHUEOH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paiit 
 
 Eufus, a sort of combination of Lords * * * ^ * * * , and 
 * * * , with a good spice of peculiar wickedness of his own 
 to boot ; and he and Anselm, as was natural, could not quite, 
 as it is called, " hit it off together," or live on the best of 
 terms. So accordingly in my presumption, my article in- 
 tends, if it is admitted within the purple covers, to record to 
 the nineteenth century the sort of cat-and-dog-life of an 
 Archbishop of Canterbury in the eleventh. . . . — -Your 
 affectionate son, E. W. 0. 
 
 The scene of confusion and uproar which signalised 
 the Commemoration of 1843 was long remembered by 
 those who witnessed it. It was an occasion (following as 
 it did closely upon Dr. Pusey's suspension) which marked 
 a further stage in the steadily growing antagonism 
 between the University authorities and the Tractarian 
 party. 
 
 To Frederic Kogbes, Esq. 
 
 Oriel, 280i June 1843. 
 
 Certainly there is no denying the irresistible tendency to 
 self-suspension on the part of our respected Heads and 
 Governors. What do you think of a diversion, in both 
 senses, got up by them to-day — an extemporaneous row, 
 whereby they have brought the hornets of Convocation about 
 their ears, in fine style. The whole business is so ludicrous 
 to me, that though there were disagreeables mixed up with 
 it, it has quite for the time put out of my head aU the de- 
 spairing thoughts with which I left London. With such 
 people to help us we may yet get on. 
 
 Everybody got up this morning with the full belief that 
 Jelf would be awfully hissed in the theatre, and most sober- 
 minded persons with the conviction that they would be able 
 
OXFORD 45 
 
 to find better employment for their time than hearing the 
 said hissing. It was also known (a notice to that effect hav- 
 ing been sent out yesterday) that Mr. Everett, the American 
 minister, would be proposed for an honorary degree. But 
 soon after the town and University were stirring, Lewis and 
 Morris were seen flitting about from college to college, with 
 the intelligence that Mr. Everett was a Socinian.' Stern, 
 unflinching, untiring men, with their hard features, and 
 strong fire within, — they had sounded the tocsin to some 
 effect by nine o'clock, and every one was on the qui vive. 
 Poor, innocent Mr. Everett meanwhile — I do pity him — ^was 
 breakfasting unconsciously at Buckland's, showing that he 
 was an accomplished, intelligent, refined man, — enjoying 
 Oxford society, and Buckland's jokes, and the prospect of 
 plaudits and a red gown in the theatre. Heads of Houses 
 also were breakfasting, unconscious that Lewis and Morris 
 were not breakfasting, it being St. Peter's Eve. But break- 
 fast and unconsciousness must come to an end, the clock 
 must strike, and the resolute Welshman is at the V.-O.'s 
 door with a letter. " Is Mr. Everett known to the V.-O. to 
 be a Socinian?" Other Heads are "just going to shave" 
 and dress for the theatre ; they are stopped by the anxious 
 question, " Can they contradict the assertion that Mr. E. is 
 a Socinian ? " The V.-C. sends for the Welshman— does not 
 deny that Mr. E. is a Unitarian, but in England he conforms. 
 Besides, honorary degrees have no reference to theological 
 opinions, only to moral conduct — witness Dr. Dalton. The 
 Welshman is inexorable. He has not come to argue with 
 the V.-C, only to learn a fact ; but thinks it a curious time 
 to make light of theological differences. V.-O. tries to come 
 over him stiU — tries the civil and the patriotic — " Would he 
 blow up a war between England and America?" The 
 
46 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 Welshman cannot help consequencea Jelf, who is by, looks 
 fierce, and is rude, all but insults the Welshman : " he 
 never was so treated by any one before." But bullying and 
 coaxing are no good ; the Welshman comes away, after giving 
 notice of an opposition, thinking himself ill-treated, and with 
 the fact in his pocket that the V.-C. cannot deny Mr. E.'s 
 heterodoxy. Eden also tries his luck with the same great 
 functionary — also writes a letter — sentences well poised and 
 turned, constructions and words exquisite — ^but coming to 
 this, that unless V.-C. wUl deny the assertion, "he (Eden) 
 must act on the best information he can get." V.-O. only 
 will say that Mr. E. "goes to church" in England; it is 
 also said that he will sign the Apostles' Creed. JDominus 
 Profositus "can give no information," but met him at Buck- 
 land's and liked him, and saw nothing in his conversation 
 to show Socinianism. Various other efforts were made to 
 get a disclaimer from the Heads and Mr. Everett, but it only 
 came to this, that he did not call himself a Socinian, and 
 went to church when he was in England ; but there was no 
 denying that he was an " American Unitarian." 
 
 All this passed in the space of two hours. The theatre 
 meanwhile was opened and filled. Mr. E.'s degree would be 
 non-placetted considerably. Every one felt it a very great bore, 
 but it could not be let pass. But there was another row 
 gathering up in the gallery, which was destined to mingle 
 with, and finally swamp the magisterial one. From the 
 moment Jelf came into the theatre, an uninterrupted, un- 
 slackening storm of groans began (rendered more furious and 
 loud by the counter-cheering), which lasted literally, with- 
 out a break, till after three-quarters of an hour, when the. 
 V.-C. was obliged to break up the Convocation without the 
 prizes having been read. I never heard anything so kept 
 
I OXFOED 47 
 
 up. Tliey say that men had bound themselves not to stop 
 till they drove Jelf out. It will cause the expulsion of some 
 three or four men — among others a man who has just got a 
 double first : they richly deserve it. 
 
 Meanwhile, under the cover of this cannonade, important 
 events were going on below. I was in the body of the room, 
 and I could see the V.-O. get up, and gesticulate, and then sit 
 down as if in despair ; but every one about me thought that 
 he was waiting till he could be heard. But he knew a trick 
 worth two of that. Why should he want to be heard, or to 
 hear ? So, in course of time, why or wherefore having been 
 concealed by the crowd, up emerges Mr. Everett in red 
 gown, and by the helping hand of the V.-O. is comfortably 
 installed among the D.O.L.'s. 
 
 Such was the scene from a distance ; but round the foot 
 of the V.-O.'s tribunal another storm had been raging. There 
 it was perceived that Dr. Bliss, in spite of the gallery fire, 
 was presenting Mr. Everett ; that the V.-C. was asking the 
 sense of Convocation, that the proctors were taking oflf their 
 caps ; there, accordingly, Marriott got upon a form, and was 
 seen moving his lips, and gesticulating to the V.-O. He 
 affirms, and* it is believed, that he made a Latin speech, 
 which he has since put into writing. There also were frantic 
 and furious struggles made to draw the V.-O.'s attention ; 
 wild yells of "more placet" and "peto scrutinium" were dis- 
 tinguished by the bystanders very plainly. At last the 
 V.-C. heard them; but "after he had sent the bedels to 
 conduct Mr. Everett to him." Those were moments of most 
 intense and agonising excitement. Woollcombe of Balliol 
 all but flew at Cox the poker to throttle him for telling 
 Woollcombe that his non placet was too late. However, too 
 late it was to prevent Mr. Everett from being a Doctor at 
 
48 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTEES paet 
 
 least de facto. So were the non placets floored, and the V.-C. 
 sat down triumphing — blessing, if he had any gratitude, his 
 stars and the undergraduates, the powers above. But nowa- 
 days M.A.'s, when they are snubbed, wax fierce and warm. 
 So forth poured a stream of malcontents from the theatre, 
 leaving Messrs. V.-C. and Everett, and the Creweian oration 
 as it issued from the lips of Garbett, to the protection of the 
 gallery, to assemble in Exeter Common Koom_ and deliberate. 
 All sorts collected, all in the most explosive condition ; all 
 Balliol, as usual, furious ; Sewell as indignant as his turn for 
 pathos would allow ; Eden lofty, thoughtful, and ominous; 
 Lewis and Morris faint from their toils of the morning. At 
 once half a dozen men rushed to the table, and were at work, 
 not sitting but kneeling at it, writing protests. They began 
 in English, and doubtless a dozen men would have followed 
 their example, when some one lucidly suggested that, as the 
 notion was to deliver the protest to the V.-O. before he left 
 the theatre, it ought to be in Latin, which checked the 
 ardour of the protest- writers. In the course of a quarter of an 
 hour Seager and Spranger had their rival protests ready in 
 fair statutable Latin ; they were being discussed when Sewell 
 appeared with one of his own devising, put into more like 
 classical Latin, which at once commanded aU votes. It was 
 just being sent off, when news was brought that the V.-C. 
 had been obliged, by the perseverance of his late allies, to 
 put an end, an untimely end,' to the Convocation, and the 
 fond, long-cherished dreams of the young prize poets about 
 bright eyes and white handkerchiefs. The gallery gave 
 three cheers for " their victory," and descended ; and so 
 finished Commemoration 1843. 
 
 But I shall miss the post with all this stuff ; so, to be 
 brief, a deputation waited on Mr. Everett to assure him that 
 
I OXFORD 49 
 
 nothing personal was intended, etc. etc., which went off with 
 mutual civility, and is to be followed by a written address to 
 the same effect. A deputation also waited on the V.-C. with 
 a protest against the validity of the degree, on which Con- 
 vocation was prevented from expressing its sense ; which the 
 V.-O. answers by saying that " he did not hear the non placets " 
 till after he had sent the bedels to inform Mr. Everett that 
 Convocation had granted the degree, and it would have been 
 informal to have recalled it. This answer, however, is voted 
 by all parties, part of the original job ; and a committee of 
 five is to be appointed to carry the thing on, and to get the 
 degree annulled. 
 
 The V.-O. has made a mess of it ; first, by proposing Mr. 
 Everett, and then by smuggling his degree through in this 
 barefaced way ; a measure which shifts the ground of opposi- 
 tion from the obnoxious theological one, to the privileges of 
 Convocation. We shall see what will come of it. Meanwhile 
 our good friends have attracted to themselves quant, suff. of 
 odium, and have again made people act together when they 
 were falling apart. 
 
 Unluckily the credit of the University will not rise in all 
 this. I never saw such a disgraceful scene altogether as the 
 theatre this morning. . . . — Yours ever, R. W. C. 
 
 In spite, however, of the momentary amu.sement 
 which such a scene as that described in the last letter 
 might excite, the direction that matters were taking in 
 the University was becoming an increasingly anxious 
 one.^ The attack on Dr. Pusey, which had ended in his 
 suspension for two years from preaching in the Uni- 
 versity pulpit, had taken place in June 1843; and this 
 
 1 See also The Oxford Movement, oliap. xvi. The Three Defeats. 
 E 
 
50 DEAN CHUEOH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 was followed by Mr. Newman's resignation of St. Mary's 
 in the September of the same year. Both these were 
 events of ominous significance ; and in addition to them, 
 to friends who like Mr. Church and Mr. James Mozley 
 were in Mr. Newman's confidence, there were other 
 warnings of an even more discouraging sort. Some 
 words of Mozley's at this time give expression to the 
 feeling that changes were preparing. "Things are 
 looking melancholy now, my dear Church; and you 
 and I, and aU of us who can act together, must be 
 bestirring ourselves. I feel as if a new stage in the 
 drama were beginning, in which we shall have to do the 
 uncomfortable thing, and take rather higher parts than we 
 have done hitherto, or at any rate we must try our best.'' 
 And along with the pressure of these anxieties there 
 were besides private fears to be met, and questions to 
 be answered, such as could scarcely rise without pain. 
 Mr. Church's own position and outlook had become un- 
 certain. He had been warned by the Head of his college 
 that in the event of his applying for testimonials for 
 priest's orders, they might in the present condition of 
 affairs be refused him. And this was a consideration 
 which opened afresh the whole question as to his future. 
 In answer to his mother's anxious inquiries as to his 
 own position, he writes : — 
 
 To HIS JVIOTHEE. 
 
 Okiel, 1st November 1843. 
 As to tlie other part of your letter I hardly know what 
 to say. It is most natural that yon should feel alarm, and 
 
I OXFORD 51 
 
 should express it, and yet I do not know how to dispel it 
 efifectually. All I can do is to beg of you earnestly not to 
 suspect me, for as far as I can know and answer for myself, 
 I am not in any danger. All that I could say on the 
 subject would simply come to this, that I believe myself in 
 no danger. I am afraid that I could scarcely make you 
 understand my reasons for thinking so, when the question is 
 asked ; perhaps the most practical that I could give is, that 
 I never felt a temptation to move. After this, I hope that 
 you will not think that I am annoyed — for your fears are 
 most natural, and I do not the least complain — if I ask one 
 favour, that you will kindly not put the idea before me, 
 unless you have strong reasons from- anything you should 
 hear, or that I should do or say, to fear. For it does one 
 harm to be doubted. Please remember that I do not say 
 this as complaining — it is merely with regard to the 
 future. . . . 
 
 As to those who have gone over, I may as well sayj that 
 though I have known two or three of them more or less — 
 for my acquaintance used to be rather large — I was intimate 
 with none of them. A large circle, and a large party, takes 
 in all kinds of people. 
 
 As to what is coming, I can say nothing, because I know 
 nothing. As far as I can see, we must be content to be 
 suspected for the present — there is no help for it ; there is 
 no way of stopping the popular outcry just now without 
 abandoning what seems true. We must be content to live, 
 and perhaps die, suspected. In some cases perhaps, the 
 outcry, as often happens, will verify itself ; but it will not 
 be so with the great body ; and perhaps the next generation 
 may profit by what they have done towards breaking down 
 unchristian prejudices. 
 
52 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 Meantime the game is not iip. Thia distrust and 
 unpopularity may blow over ; — in spite of the Heads we 
 have a great deal of power here, and we may still be able, 
 notwithstanding their violence, to gain a hold on the 
 Church, and show that there is much of that good which 
 Eome claims as her own which belongs to us as weU and as 
 really. There is no use despairing till the last chance is 
 lost, which is not yet by a good deal. 
 
 Please excuse this hasty note. I hope you will not 
 think any of it unkind : it was written in a great hurry. — 
 Your affectionate son, K- W. 0. 
 
 To HIS Mother. 
 
 Obibl, 21st November 1843. 
 Oxford, I think, is more foggy and murky than it usually 
 is at this season, which is saying a good deal. . . . But we 
 are very quiet for the present. Our great men are a little 
 fatigued just now with their late gigantic efforts, and are 
 taking an interval of repose, so we breakfast and dine with 
 an appetite ; there are no threatening sounds of a storm 
 approaching, and there is nothing to break the dull rumble 
 of the great University, as it jolts and jostles and rolls along 
 from week to week, but now and then an explosion of fire- 
 works in a college quadrangle, which the Times grossly 
 exaggerates into a sort of little gunpowder-plot. It is very 
 odd how difficult people find it to help lying. — Your 
 affectionate son, R. W. C. 
 
 In 1844 Mr. Ohurcli -was elected to serve as proctor 
 his companion in the office being Mr. Guillemard of 
 Trinity. At this time the control of the police was in 
 the hands of the University authorities, and accordingly 
 
I OXFORD 53 
 
 among the duties falling to the proctors were those of 
 police supervision and inspection. He writes to his 
 mother of his first experience : — 
 
 Oriel, IZth April 1844. 
 I began wort to-day, and so now I am fairly in for a 
 year's employment in keeping the peace, with its various 
 rubs "and amusements. I have only had experience of the 
 latter as yet, e.g. I have every other week to post the police 
 in various parts of the town, and to receive then" report of 
 the previous day. One goes at nine at night to a vaulted 
 room underground, as dreary looking and grim as a melo- 
 drama would require ; — table with pen and ink, feeble 
 lamp, and sundry cutlasses disposed round the walls. One 
 sits down in great dignity at a table, and then the police 
 are mar.ohed in by batches of six. They enter like robbers 
 or conspirators in a play, all belted and great-coated, looking 
 fierce. " All quiet last night ? " passes your lips. All 
 their heads begin to bob, as if they were hung on springs, 
 and without any stopping for three or four minutes, all 
 their voices commence repeating, " All quiet, sir," as fast as 
 they can ; and when they have lost their breath, exeunt all 
 bobbing. The first time I was present I fairly lost my 
 gravity, as I should think most of my predecessors must 
 have done before me. 
 
 A few weeks of the Long Vacation spent in Brittany 
 with his friend Mr. Kogers, came as a welcome break 
 to the strain of events in Oxford. The essay on 
 Brittany, which appeared next year in the Chnstian 
 Bemembrancer, grew out of the impressions received 
 during this visit. 
 
54 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 To 0. M. Ohuech, Esq.i 
 
 St. Pol db Leon, 30th August 1844. 
 My dear Charles — I cannot possibly give you a journal 
 of our proceedings ; you shall see my jottings when I get 
 home if you choose. You may thank this place for this 
 note, for I want to preserve my impressions whUe they are 
 fresh by writing them down. To see where we are, look at 
 the N.W. corner of Brittany, and on a rugged point of land 
 fringed with rooks and islands you will see the name of 
 this place. It was the old ecclesiastical capital of this part, 
 and an Archbishop's see. Brittany is a strange wild place, 
 where the historical associations are a mixture of Celtic, 
 romantic, and feudal, — ^the Druids, King Arthur, and the 
 Dukea of Brittany ; it is quite different from the rest of 
 Prance, with a different language, and a rude, severe, old- 
 fashioned people. This was sufficiently impressed on us all 
 along our road, so we were prepared for a queer place at St. 
 Pol de Leon. We had a beautiful hot day to-day, travelling 
 in a country cabriolet from Lannion, through Morlaix — 
 quaint, grotesque, feudal towns, with such street architecture 
 that Rogers' pencil has never ceased going all day ; but stUl 
 busy, stirring towns in beautiful valleys, with fine tidal 
 rivers, or arms of the sea, running through them. Towards 
 the end of our day we came on higher ground out of a 
 green valley, with a stream running through it. The 
 country began to run in straight horizontal lines — a moor- 
 like tableland with furze and broom. On turning a comer 
 we caught sight of the sea on our right, and before us rose 
 a tall single spire, and near it, a pile with two lower spires 
 of the same kind, which continued in sight, growing larger 
 
 ^ Mr. Church's youngest brother, then an undergraduate at Oriel. 
 
I OXFORD 55 
 
 till we finished our journey. The day was now cool, and 
 the sun set just as we got into the place. It is a stern, 
 hard, rugged town, people and houses clean, but small and 
 stern — houses all granite, even to the least, and very plain, 
 and there are no very large ones — a great contrast to the 
 fantastic wooden ones of the towns we had seen. The 
 single spire is the most beautiful thing of its sort I have 
 seen for a long time ; like everything else here there is a 
 severe cast about it. It is granite, and there are many 
 square forms about it, but it quite shoots up from the dreary, 
 desolate, silent place. Just as we went out the bells of 
 two or three churches rang the " Angelus." 
 
 A short way from the spire we came to the cemetery. 
 An avenue of trees ran up to an extraordinary looking 
 church, another to a calvary. At intervals, on the outside 
 wall, were arched places in which were placed sculls and 
 bones, — the sculls sometimes in a sort of box with the name 
 of the person on it. On each side of the avenue to the 
 calvary were shrines with a representation — large wooden 
 or earthenware figures — of a scene of the Passion ; and at 
 the end there was a circle, in the midst of which a large 
 crucifix rose against the sky, with two large columns on 
 each side, and two shrines with representations of the taking 
 down from the cross, and the burial. In front was a large 
 space paved with gravestones. I never saw any representa- 
 tion of thfs kind which struck me so much. It is no use 
 being sentimental, but the effect of these " stations " among 
 the tombs in a cool evening, following a hot day, and among 
 these wild sad people, with their gloomy customs respecting 
 the dead, was something unlike anything I ever felt. From 
 this place we looked down on a bay ; it was quite dusk, 
 the sea a black blue, and the hills a deep blue grey. The 
 
56 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 moon rose behind them, first a deep red, then burning 
 copper, then with a strange yellow brilliance all round, 
 reflected dimly on the hay. 
 
 Everything is in keeping about this place, everything 
 still and severe, and everything rude and melancholy, except 
 the spires of the churches, and even they, with the architec- 
 ture generally, are stern though they are so very beautiful. 
 At the inn our supper was clean and good, and so was the 
 table, but it had no table-cloth. We asked the servant girl 
 about the cemetery, and she did not like to talk about it, 
 and at last went out of the room. Next year this strange 
 cemetery is to be done up new in the Pere la Chaise style. 
 
 We have had beautiful days all the time. Our line has 
 been Dinan, St. Brienc, Paimpol, through Treguier to 
 Lannion, through Morlaix to St. Pol ; — to-morrow Lander- 
 neau, then Brest, Quimper, Vannes, to the middle of Brittany, 
 which they call Cornuaille (Cornwall). We have had a 
 cabriolet from St. Brieuo, and so had things in our own 
 hands. Hitherto it has been very beautiful and very strange. 
 I shall send all my friends to Brittany ; and, for their 
 comfort, the dirt is very much exaggerated, and the inns are 
 very cheap. ... I wish you would call at the Post-Office 
 at Southampton for a letter which Rogers expected from 
 Gladstone, with an introduction to a person here. — Yours 
 affectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 To HIS Mother. 
 
 Landeeneau, ith September 1844. 
 
 We have an idle day to-day, so you shall hear a little 
 about our doings and plans. . . . We stopped Sunday here, 
 and in the afternoon walked out into the country to see a 
 " Pardon," as they call it — a sort of wake, or gathering at a 
 church, on some particular day. • A very hot walk of five 
 
1 OXFORD 57 
 
 miles' brought us to the place — a church called La Foret, as 
 its name implies, among woods, on the banks of a river, with 
 a fine ridge of rock and heath on the opposite side of the 
 valley. The churchyard and the roads about were full of 
 people, who could not get into the church — men and women 
 in separate bodies — the women sitting or standing by the 
 churchyard wall, or the banks round it, the men clustered 
 round the church itself — as picturesque groups as could be 
 wished. They are a fine-looking set these Bretons, though 
 with a strong dash of the savage about them too ; severe, 
 thoughtful-looking fellows, with deeply-marked features, 
 and, most of them, with long black or dark -brown hair, 
 falling down their backs: in huge broad -brimmed hats 
 with a band of silver lace, or blue or red and white chenille, 
 or black velvet with a buckle round them, and black jacket 
 and trousers. Black is the predominating colour in the 
 dress of men and women : the women wear a gown of coarse 
 black cloth, with a large apron and small shawl, of different 
 colours — and these colours are very well combined. Their 
 head-dress is a cap, with a worked handkerchief made up 
 into a kind of flattened roll on the top of the head. You 
 cannot conceive how beautiful these groups of women looked : 
 the black ground of the gown setting off the combined 
 colours of the shawl and apron — very varied, but without 
 any gaudiness — there was not a bit of yellow to be seen — 
 and topped by the quaint, beautifully white head-dresses. 
 All the men and women were very clean, and all seemed to 
 be of the same rank. 
 
 When we got there the people in the church were 
 singing — in a wild kind of way, but most lustily; those 
 outside — the men at least, near the church, kneeling down 
 with their hats off. Then came the sermon, iu Breton, 
 
58 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 during wMch. tlie women in the church sat on the ground, 
 the men standing. Then came a procession round the 
 churchyard, crowds joining in it, walking round and singing 
 — but great numbers also kneeling on the ground as it 
 passed round, and three or four boys ringing the bells from 
 the roof of the church with aU their might. It was a 
 magnificent sight to see these people pass by in deep crowded 
 masses, with a bright sun shining on them — -the men all 
 together, stem and serious, with their long black hair and 
 black dresses, and the women following, or kneeling round. 
 After this was over they dispersed, with some difficulty, for 
 the road was almost choked up. There was to be a dance in 
 the evening, but they said that not many would stop for it. 
 
 On Monday we went to Brest, and took a steamer to a 
 place on the other side of the Eade de Brest, as fine a place 
 for a navy to lie in as can well be imagined — a broad sheet 
 of sea completely shut in except by one narrow passage, on 
 which they can bring four hundred guns to bear at once. 
 At the place where we stopped we had a narrow escape. 
 Our inn was about a mile off, and a diligence passed by it, 
 by which we meant to get to it. But the diligence, which 
 was just starting, was full, so we could only send our bags, 
 and we set out walking. We stood for a little while looking 
 at a Breton dance which was going on in the " Place ; " this 
 kept us a few minutes, and showed us what followed. The 
 diligence started with a drunken driver and troublesome 
 leader — ^it dashed round a corner and was overturned. The 
 people inside were very much cut and bruised, and one of 
 them, an old Frenchman with whom we had made acquaint- 
 ance on board the steamer, had his arm broken. I never 
 saw a thing come down with such a crash. . . . — Your 
 affectionate son, K. \\r_ Q_ 
 
I OXFORD 59 
 
 Mr. Church's term of office as proctor coincided with 
 the last stormy year of the Movement at Oxford. In 
 the University feeling on both sides was running high, 
 and an opportunity for its expression presented itself in 
 the nomination to the Vice-Chancellorship, which took 
 place immediately before the October term of 1844. In 
 its. ordinary course the office would have passed from 
 the President of St. John's, Dr. Wynter, whose term 
 had expired, to Dr, Symons, Warden of Wadham, Mr. 
 Church's old college. Dr. Symons was well known as a 
 mian of extreme opinions, who had strongly expressed 
 condemnation of the Tractarian party, and it was deter- 
 mined by the Tractarians, although against the judg- 
 ment of the wiser heads among them, to challenge his 
 nomination. In the result the nomination was confirmed 
 by 883 votes to 183. 
 
 To HIS Mother. 
 
 Oriel, Wfh October 1844. 
 
 You will have seen in the Times an account of all the 
 doings up here. It has been a stormy end of the Long 
 Vacation ; and the beginning of the term, instead of seeming, 
 as it usually does, the commencement of stir and bustle here, 
 is quite flat and dull after the great gathering of last Tuesday 
 — a mere settling down of routine. But I am afraid we 
 shall have some more squalls before it is over. We proctors 
 now have double duty — to look after Heads of Houses and 
 undergraduates. 
 
 Strange twists come about I certainly did not expect, 
 when I used at Wadham to stand before the old Warden in 
 immense awe of his bigness and deep voice, that I should be 
 
60 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 presiding over his election and sitting in dignity next to him. 
 We keep pretty good friends however. But unless this 
 lesson may have given him a hint, he will make a queer 
 Vice-ChanoeUor. 
 
 Proctorial work did not get pleasanter as the winter 
 advanced. "My winter campaigning," he writes, "is 
 beginning, not quite so active as in the summer, but 
 more disagreeable when in the field — dark nights and 
 sloppy streets." And in addition to these labours, his 
 official position required his presence at the meetings of 
 the Hebdomadal Board, where, among the old-fashioned 
 and elderly Heads of Houses, he half laughingly declares 
 to his mother that he finds himself looked on " with a 
 mixture of horror and contempt, as a semi-papist and a 
 young man." 
 
 Even at the risk of repeating what has been often 
 told, it may be well at this point to recaU briefly the 
 situation as it took shape towards the close of 1844. 
 In July of that year Mr. Ward had published his famous 
 book, the Ideal of a Christian Church, in which he claimed 
 for himself, as a member of the English Church, the 
 right to hold, whilst subscribing to the Articles, "the 
 whole cycle of Roman doctrine." Such a claim neces- 
 sarily raised the Roman question in its most pressing 
 and practical form. Among the Tractarians themselves 
 it was felt as the expression, brought out at length into 
 clearness, of a severance in principle which had been 
 gradually growing up within the party; and to the 
 University authorities such outspoken language offered 
 a fair opportunity for taking decisive measures. In 
 
I OXFORD 61 
 
 the beginning of December tbe Hebdomadal Board 
 announced that it proposed to submit to Convocation 
 three measures : (1) the condemnation of Mr. Ward's 
 book; (2) his degradation, by depriving him of his 
 University degrees; (3) and the institution of a new 
 test, by which the Vice-Ohanoellor should have power at 
 any time to require a member of the University, in order 
 to prove his orthodoxy, to subscribe the Articles in the 
 sense in which " they were both first published and were 
 now imposed." A penalty of expulsion was attached to 
 the refusal, three times repeated, of such subscription. 
 The third proposition excited at once general and wide- 
 spread displeasure; and it was in the end withdrawn, 
 its place being taken by a censure of Mr. Newman's 
 Tract No. 90, proposed in the language of condemnation 
 used by the Board at its appearance four years before. 
 Such a ipeasure, brought forward as it was within ten 
 days of the meeting of Convocation, aroused the indigna- 
 tion of Mr. Newman's friends, as well as of all fair- 
 minded men. "The interval before the Convocation 
 was short, but it was long enough for decisive opinions 
 on the proposal of the Board to be formed and expressed. 
 Leading men in London, Mr. Gladstone among them, 
 were clear that it was an occasion for the exercise of the 
 joint veto with which the proctors were invested. . . . 
 The feeling of the younger Liberals, Mr. Stanley, Mr. 
 Donkin, Mr. Jowett, Dr. G-reenhill, was in the same direc- 
 tion. On the 10th of February the proctors announced 
 to the Board their intention to veto the third proposal." ^ 
 ^ The Oxford Movement, p. 381. 
 
62 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 Canon Buckle of Wells, who, in 1845, was a junior 
 Fellow of Oriel, and cognisant of what was passing then 
 in Oxford, writing of Mr. Church's part in this unusual 
 course, touches a characteristic note. " It was the 
 Dean's way," he writes, "then as always, to be an 
 invisible force — not conspicuously acting or speaking 
 himself, but influencing others who did speak and act." 
 
 The following letter to Mr. Newman tells Mr. Church's 
 purpose in his own words : — 
 
 My dear Newman — I had made up my mind to veto 
 from the first, and I have little doubt that GtuUemard will 
 agree to it. But it need not be talked about more than is 
 necessary. . . . Gladstone has written to the Provost against 
 this move, and asking for delay. We shall hear the letter 
 on Monday. I am only afraid of their delaying it, though 
 as yet they have shown no symptoms of shrinking. It would 
 not be very respectable to change their minds again, but I 
 think it would be their best game. . . .—Ever yours affec- 
 tionately, R. W. 0. 
 
 The day for the meeting of Convocation was fixed 
 for the 13th of February, "St. Valentine's Eve." The 
 excitement and fever of expectation in the University 
 had risen by this time extraordinarily high. On the 
 day itself, Oxford was thronged with members of Con- 
 vocation, who had come up from London and the country 
 to record their vote ; and even the snow and sleet which 
 fell heavily through the day could not daunt the spirits 
 of the undergraduates, who, although denied entrance 
 to the theatre, gathered about its approaches, eager to 
 
I OXFORD 63 
 
 be as near as possible to the scene of action. Mr. Church's 
 youngest brother, then an undergraduate at Oriel, a 
 college which for obvious reasons was keenly interested 
 on this occasion, had stationed himself at a window in 
 Broad Street, in order better to view the proceedings ; 
 and he recalls the excitement of the moment — the sight 
 of the crowd, which still, after the procession had entered, 
 lingered round the railings that enclose the theatre — 
 the dull roar of the shouting which could be heard at 
 intervals from within the building itself — and at last 
 the appearance of the assemblage streaming out through 
 the snow, the big iigure of Ward emerging among the 
 earliest, with his papers under his arm, to be greeted 
 with shouts and cheers, which passed into laughter as 
 in his hurry he slipped and fell headlong in the snow, 
 his papers flying in every direction. 
 
 The spectacle within the Sheldonian, crowded from 
 end to end with voters, was always spoken of by those 
 present as a very memorable one. " I was introduced," 
 writes Canon Buckle, "into the famous Convocation 
 by Church, under the shelter of his velvet sleeves, not 
 having the right of entry myself, being only a B.A. It 
 was a highly exciting scene — Ward being allowed the 
 novelty of speaking in English, and making point after 
 point that elicited cheers and howls ; and it culminated 
 in the great sensation when, on the proposal of the 
 censure, the two proctors rose, and the senior, Guille- 
 mard, pronounced the veto — 'Nobis procuratoribus non 
 placet ' " — words which, except upon the occasion of the 
 Hampden conflict in 1836, no one then living had heard 
 
64 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 spoken in Convocation. "Guillemard, the senior proctor," 
 writes James Mozley, "delivered his veto with immense 
 effect. A shout of 'Non' was raised, and resounded 
 through the whole building, and 'Placets' from the 
 other side, over which Guillemard's ' Nobis procuratoriius 
 non placet' was heard like a trumpet, and cheered 
 enormously. The Dean of Chichester threw himself 
 out of his doctor's seat and shook both proctors violently 
 by the hand." For the time proceedings were at an 
 end. "Without any formal dissolution, indeed without 
 a word more being spoken, as if such an interposition 
 (as the proctors' veto) stopped all business, the Vice- 
 Chancellor tucked up his gown, and hurried down the 
 steps that led from the throne into the area, and hurried 
 out of the theatre ; and in five minutes the whole scene 
 of action was cleared." ^ Ward and the proctors were 
 warmly received when they appeared, and a cry went 
 up, " Cheers for the proctors " from among the throng 
 of undergraduates as they made their way out ; whilst, 
 as if to add point to their reception, the Vice-Chancellor 
 was met by hisses, and even, it was said, by snow-haUs, 
 thrown by some of the more audacious spirits among 
 the crowd. On the same evening Mr. Church wrote to 
 his mother : — 
 
 You will probably have seen the result of to-day's pro- 
 ceedings in the Times before you receive this. They have 
 been painful proceedings, and the University has committed 
 itseE to measures which, whatever Ward has said, are 
 
 ^ Edivhurgh Review, April 1845, p. 394. See also Ibid.. Arail 
 1881, p. 381. ^ 
 
I OXFORD 65 
 
 flagrantly disproportionate to his offence, and to tlie punish- 
 ment which has been inflicted on much greater offenders — 
 if they have been visited at all. 
 
 The only thing to relieve the day has been the extreme 
 satisfaction I had in helping to veto the third iniquitous 
 measure against Newman. It was worth while being proctor 
 to have had the unmixed pleasure of doing this. 
 
 On another aspect of the matter he wrote a little later 
 to Mr. Stanley : — 
 
 To THE Rev. A. P. Stanley. 
 
 February 1845. 
 
 Mt dear Stanley — You will not, I am sure, accuse me 
 of fishing for thanks ; it is quite suflSoient for me to have 
 helped in staving oflf an insult from Newman, even if nothing 
 else at all came of the move. 
 
 But with a view to the future, I cannot help thinking 
 very strongly that you must not lose or throw away this 
 move. The Heads must not be allowed, uncontradicted, to 
 represent themselves as aggrieved by an act of power on the 
 part of two party men. Courtesy will not touch them, if 
 this their natural feeling is allowed to gain strength, or 
 become confirmed, by the veto passing off unnoticed. It is 
 most important, in order to bring them to reason, that they 
 should distinctly feel that it is they who have made the 
 mistake. Even with the consciousness this forces on them, 
 I doubt whether they will be very practicable ; but they will 
 be much less so if suffered to persuade themselves that they 
 have been defeated by a technicality. Unless the veto is 
 fully and publicly sanctioned, I fear it wiU be but a respite, 
 and that with respect to further measures, as soon as its 
 
 F 
 
66 DEAK CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTEES paet 
 
 immediate eifect ceases, it will be of unmixed advantage to 
 them. 
 
 It is a critical time : if the Board is allowed to think 
 that the confidence of the University in them is still unim- 
 paired, I think that, however people may ask for peace, the 
 Board will still trust that they shall not forfeit confidence, 
 even though, with the best wishes for peace, they themselves 
 see reason to act vigorously. However, do as you think best. 
 If our moderate friends cannot screw themselves up to " play 
 oflf" the veto, they must take their chance of the Board 
 turning tender-hearted next term. 
 
 Night thoughts are not very clear, so please excuse this 
 scrawl. — Ever yours, R. W. C. 
 
 As you saw Mozley in my room, I may as well say that 
 I have not talked to him at all about the matter. 
 
 The letter was returned by Dean Stanley in 1876, 
 and was thus acknowledged : — " Thank you for sending 
 me the enclosed. It brings back a very generous, as 
 well as wise, action on your part and that of the men 
 who joined with you. And it was a very bold thing 
 too at the time. For all your friends did not think 
 with you on that matter." 
 
 An address, signed by over five hundred members of 
 the University, of widely different shades of opinion, 
 was presented to the proctors, thanking them for their 
 exercise of the veto, and Mr. Newman himself wrote 
 privately to acknowledge their service to him. In 
 April their year of office was at an end ; but the veto 
 had done its work, and no further attack on Mr. 
 Newman was attempted. The year passed quietly on, 
 
I OXFORD 67 
 
 although it was now well known that Mr. Newman's 
 secession could not be much longer delayed. Much 
 of the Long Vacation was spent by Mr. Church in 
 Oxford. 
 
 To HIS Mother. 
 
 Obiel, Isf August 1845. 
 I wish I could persuade you tliat Oxford is a very enjoy- 
 able place in the Long Vacation. One is very quiet with 
 one other Fellow, one cat, one dog, and one jackdaw with 
 clipped wings, for one's companions in College ; and when I 
 am in the sulks, I can go to a friend who lives just out of 
 the town, and all but in the country, at the Observatory, 
 and smoke a cigar with him, and look at Jupiter and Saturn 
 through his telescopes. 
 
 In October he heard from Mr. Newman that the 
 decisive step was taken, and he writes again : — 
 
 You will be distressed to hear what I have just this 
 moment heard from himself, that Newman has left us, and 
 joined the Church of Rome. It is a matter on which I can 
 say little at present. I will ask you to pardon me once for 
 all for my reserve on these points. It is so intensely pain- 
 ful to me to talk of them with those who do not know the 
 whole case, and who, naturally, from distance, cannot have 
 it put before them, that it has seemed better to abstain from 
 it altogether. I wiU. only say that about myself personally 
 you need not make yourself unhappy. — Ever your affection- 
 ate son, E. W. 0. 
 
 Thus ended, to use a phrase of Keble's, "the de- 
 solating anxiety of the past two years." Mr. Newman 
 
70 DEAN- church's LIFE AND LETTEKS paet 
 
 of the Movement itself. It was the uiidertaking of a 
 Kttle knot of friends, of whom Mr. Church was one, 
 who were intimate together, and who had shared in 
 various degrees Mr. Newman's friendship. The notion 
 of a newspaper which should tate among weekly papers 
 the position held by the British Critic, and afterwards by 
 the Christicm Bemembramcer among quarterlies, had been 
 already thought of in 1845; and in January 1846 the 
 Ghmrdian appeared, the day of its first issue coinciding 
 with that of the Daily News. 
 
 Some notes from a MS. autobiography of Lord 
 Blachford's describe some of the difficulties and risks 
 which attended the first steps of the undertaking. " The 
 idea was taken up," he writes, " by the knot to which I 
 belonged, embracing James Mozley and Thomas Haddan, 
 who with myself had written not unsuccessfully for the 
 Times, and Church and Bernard, who had signalised 
 themselves in reviews. We, I think, comprised the 
 substantial staff of the undertaking; that is, we tried 
 to collect contributors and cash, but made ourselves 
 responsible to each other for finding what was wanting 
 in writing and capital. We expected to succeed in doing 
 good to the cause — for it was something to shake out 
 a standard and seem not discouraged. But though, 
 through Keble and Pusey and others, we could com- 
 mand a good deal of Tractarian support, we were totally 
 inexperienced in the handling of a newspaper, or in the 
 conduct of business. . . . We made an agreement with 
 some printers, still -existing, in Little Pulteney Street,, 
 and hired a room opposite the printing establishment in 
 
I OXFORD 71 
 
 the shop of a baker, where we could attend or meet to 
 see what was going on, and where some of us spent the 
 greater part of every Tuesday night, correcting proofs, 
 rejecting or inserting matter, writing articles on the last 
 subjects which had turned up, giving last t9uches, and 
 generally editing. Bernard, Haddan, and I being in 
 London, must I suppose have done most of this work, 
 but Church and Mozley used to take their share, mak- 
 ing use of a bedroom in my lodgings in Queen Street, 
 Mayfair. To these we used sometimes to return at four 
 or five o'clock in the morning — sometimes perhaps later 
 — for I connect some of these returns home with the smell 
 of hot bread from the oven, on which I think we some- 
 times made our breakfast." 
 
 To Mr. Church fell, in great part, the review depart- 
 ment of the paper, and reviews by him of Carlyle's 
 Cromwell, d'Aubign^'s History of the Reformation, Keble's 
 Lyra Innocentium, appeared among its first numbers. 
 Two early successes which brought the Guardian into 
 wider notice were also due to Mr. Church's pen : one of 
 them, a review of Lyell's Vestiges of Creation, which 
 attracted the notice and commendation of the late Sir 
 Eichard Owen; whilst the other, an article describing the 
 method and character of Le Verrier's discovery of the 
 planet Neptune, gained for the paper a communication 
 from the great astronomer himself. Mr. Church writes 
 of this, with great satisfaction, to James Mozley, in 
 October 1846: — "Sharpe and Eogers too are in great 
 force about the Guardian. At last we have got quoted 
 in a morning paper, the Daily News, by help of Le 
 
70 DEAN OHUECH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 of the Movement itself. It was the undertaking of a 
 little knot of friends, of whom Mr. Church was one, 
 who were intimate together, and who had shared in 
 various degrees Mr. Newman's friendship. The notion 
 of a newspaper which should take among weekly papers 
 the position held by the British Critic, and afterwards by 
 the Christian Bemembrancer among quarterlies, had been 
 already thought of in 1845 ; and in January 1846 the 
 Guardian appeared, the day of its first issue coinciding 
 with that of the Daily News. 
 
 Some notes from a MS. autobiography of Lord 
 Blachford's describe some of the difficulties and risks 
 which attended the first steps of the undertaking. " The 
 idea was taken up," he writes, " by the knot to which I 
 belonged, embracing James Mozley and Thomas Haddan, 
 who with myself had written not unsuccessfully for the 
 Times, and Church and Bernard, who had signalised 
 themselves in reviews. "We, I think, comprised the 
 substantial staff of the undertaking; that is, we tried 
 to collect contributors and cash, but made ourselves 
 responsible to each other for finding what was wanting 
 in writing and capital. We expected to succeed in doing 
 good to the cause — for it was something to shake out 
 a standard and seem not discouraged. But though, 
 through Keble and Pusey and others, we could com- 
 mand a good deal of Tractarian support, we were totally 
 inexperienced in the handling of a newspaper, or in the 
 conduct of business. . . . We made an agreement with 
 some printers, still -existing, in Little Pulteney Street, 
 and hired a room opposite the printing establishment in 
 
I OXFORD 71 
 
 the shop of a baker, where we could attend or meet to 
 see what was going on, and where some of us spent the 
 greater part of every Tuesday night, correcting proofs, 
 rejecting or inserting matter, writing articles on the last 
 subjects which had turned up, giving last t9uches, and 
 generally editing. Bernard, Haddan, and I being in 
 London, must I suppose have done most of this work, 
 but Church and Mozley used to take their share, mak- 
 ing use of a bedroom in my lodgings in Queen Street, 
 Mayfair. To these we used sometimes to return at four 
 or five o'clock in the morning — sometimes perhaps later 
 — for I connect some of these returns home with the smell 
 of hot bread from the oven, on which I think we some- 
 times made our breakfast." 
 
 To Mr. Church fell, in great part, the review depart- 
 ment of the paper, and reviews by him of Carlyle's 
 Cromwell, d'Aubign^'s History of the Reformation, Keble's 
 Lyra Innocentivm, appeared among its first numbers. 
 Two early successes which brought the Ovardian into 
 wider notice were also due to Mr. Chxirch's pen : one of 
 them, a review of Lyell's Vestiges of Creation, which 
 attracted the notice and commendation of the late Sir 
 Eichard Owen ; whilst the other, an article describing the 
 method and character of Le Verrier's discovery of the 
 planet Neptune, gained for the paper a communication 
 from the great astronomer himself. Mr. Church writes 
 of this, with great satisfaction, to James Mozley, in 
 October 1846: — "Sharpe and Rogers too are in great 
 force about the Ovardian. At last we have got quoted 
 in a morning paper, the Daily News, by help of Le 
 
72 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 Terrier's letter. We may be caught out in some ' floor,' 
 but if we are not, I shall be very proud of the planet all 
 my life long.'' 
 
 The greater part of 1847 was spent by Mr. Church 
 abroad. He inherited a full share of the family love 
 of travel and foreign scenes ; and such a break after the 
 strain of the past few years offered the change both to 
 body and mind which he was most in need of, and there 
 were no longer any ties in England to interfere with a 
 prolonged absence. His uncle, Sir Eichard Church, who 
 in 1826 had been chosen by the Greek Assembly to 
 command the Greek armies during the war of independ- 
 ence, was now living in Athens, and this determined the 
 direction of Mr. Church's journey. He left England 
 towards the end of January, crossing the Bay of Biscay 
 in very heavy weather, and after touching at Gibraltar 
 and Malta went direct to Athens. The next four month.s 
 were spent in Greece. At Athens he found himself, 
 whilst staying with his uncle, who was at that time one 
 of the leading members of the Opposition party, in the 
 centre of hot political discussions, which contrasted 
 strangely enough with the history and associations of 
 the past. An excursion into Attica, and a month's 
 wandering on horseback through the Morea, completed 
 his Greek travels. His further plans had included an 
 expedition into Asia Minor and a visit to Palestine, 
 but this part of his tour had finally to be relinquished, 
 though he succeeded in pushing on as far as to Con- 
 stantinople. He returned to Athens to bid farewell to 
 his uncle, and then turned homewards, spending a week 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 73 
 
 at Corfu as the guest of Lord Seaton, at that time Lord 
 High Commissioner of the Ionian Islands, and passing 
 on thence into Italy. The following letters, giving the 
 account of- his travels at length, show the zest and en- 
 joyment with which he threw himself into the new and 
 varied experiences of his year's holiday : — 
 
 To 0. M. Chdroh, Esq. 
 On boakd the Ripon, 2lfh Jammry 1847. 
 Here we are, oflf the coast of Portugal, knocking about at 
 a grand rate. I write in pencil, because ink is a dangerous 
 material, when one finds oneself every five minutes making 
 the most extraordinary angles with the horizon ; and scarcely 
 a quarter of an hour passes without the most horrifying 
 crashes of plates and glasses and tables and chairs. I used 
 to wish to see the Bay of Biscay doing its best, and I have 
 had my wish pretty fully. I am quite satisfied that the said 
 Bay is a potentate of great dignity and power, and — here 
 goes a great roll — now keeping a very vivid recollection of 
 him, I do not wish to see any more of him. We have had, 
 by way of luck, one of the worst 'passages known for some 
 time back. The wind changed on Wednesday to W. and 
 S.W., and has kept us at bay ever since, and always with a 
 good vigorous gale ; — on Monday, with what I have the 
 authority of one of the sailor people on board for calling a 
 hurricane, and to-day with a resolute obstinate southwester, 
 with a heavy sea, clouds without a break, and continuous 
 spitting drizzle ; so that we, who were to have been at 
 Gibraltar on Monday, think ourselves lucky that we have 
 perhaps passed Vigo. I have been congratulating myself half 
 a dozen times a day (beg pardon, great thump on the bows !) 
 
74 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 that Coleridge i did not come : lie would have been half dead 
 with ennui if not with sea^siokness. Though I am pretty 
 well seasoned now, I must confess to have been fairly 
 vaniiuished. However, I got over it after a couple of days 
 so as not to be sick, and in a couple more so as to be able to 
 eat, and get up without feeling squeamish, in the thick of a 
 gale of wind, with everything flying about one's head or 
 one's heels ; and now I am writing, as you see, in an awful 
 
 toss but I do not stand on my character as an undisturbed 
 
 sailor any more. • 
 
 One of the most trying pieces of business was reading 
 service on Sunday, having to balance myself with one hand 
 and keep my book from tumbling off with the other. I 
 never was so dizzy in my life as I was at the end. Except 
 as a thorough good specimen of what sea weather can be, 
 our voyage has been as uninteresting as could weU be. 
 Passengers, mostly freshmen for India — very schoolboyish, 
 apt to talk of how their trunks are fastened, and where they 
 bought their outfit ; a few semi-invisible ladies, and a half- 
 dozen of commonplace gentlemen. . . . 
 
 29th Janimry. — Off coast of Portugal, no land, in sight. To 
 proceed. To-day, as you- see, ink is useable, though stiU 
 with due precaution, and seas still thump every now and 
 then at our bows and paddle-boxes. But we have at last, 
 and for the first time, a wind which does not actually head 
 us, and are running along under fore and main trysails, 
 seven or eight knots. Hitherto we have done little more 
 than from two to four knots, drifting away before a broken 
 swell from N.W., crossed by strong wind from S.W. You 
 cannot imagine, or, on the other hand, I dare say you can, 
 the sickening feeling of finding our first point to be reached 
 
 1 Henry James Coleridge, Fellow of Oriel. 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 75 
 
 put off day after day, and then to be disappointed when the 
 time comes, and to be told that we were only, it may be, 
 twenty miles from where we were twenty-four hours back. 
 However, now our main troubles are, I hope, pretty well 
 over. We saw the coast of Spain early on Tuesday, 
 somewhere between Corunna and Finisterre. It was very 
 striking and solemn to come on deck, and over the wild, 
 tumbling, indigo black sea, to see the strongly marked 
 outline of the hills through the mist. They are quite what 
 the ocean coast of Europe ought to be ; something of the 
 Apennine outline on a larger scale. The utter solitude of the 
 morning made it more solemn ; not a fishing boat or a bird 
 between us and the mountains, nothing but the waves break- 
 ing here and there into crests — or, what is still more wild — 
 manes of white foam. Alas I we did not see the Cape Finis- 
 terre for which we had been longing so much j we had to get 
 away from the land as hard as we could, for we had drifted 
 twenty miles to the eastward of our course, and the fate of 
 the great Liverpool is still fresh in every one's memory on 
 board. Since Tuesday morning we hdve seen no land. It is 
 still doubtful whether we shall have to go into Lisbon for 
 coals. "We are now (11 a.m.) somewhere between Oporto 
 and Lisbon — nearer the former — no chance of Gibraltar till 
 Saturday. 
 
 The Bipon is unlucky. She wiU hardly get credit for 
 this voyage, because it has been so long and bad ; but people 
 say, who know what they are talking about, that it might 
 have gone hard with us on Monday if she had not been a 
 very good ship. She is very slow ; the strength of her 450 
 horses is not enough to get her through a head sea more 
 than four or five miles an hour, and she gets well abused for 
 being so slow. But it was quite a grand sight to see her at 
 
76 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 work in the storm. Slie rose to the frightful looking seas as 
 if she had a huge spring which shot her bows up out of the 
 deep trough of the waves, and not one of them roUed into 
 her, though they hung over her as high almost as her 
 chimney-tops. I had quite got over aU my squeamishness by 
 that time, and could look on the process without any 
 physical discomfort. And now that it is over, it is quite a 
 sight to see once in one's life. It is not merely the storm, 
 but the battling between the ship and the storm. You can, 
 without any strong stretch of imagination, fancy life in both 
 of them, each wave taking its blow as it passes, sometimes 
 successfully, sometimes parried, but always with a single 
 wild effort, spent altogether when done ; and the continuous 
 sustained strength of the ship, never exhausted, and directed 
 with a mixture of calmness and anxiety — the idea of 
 the man at the wheel — seems to pass into the whole 
 machine. 
 
 I am comfortably housed — a cabin to myself, which I 
 fancy I enjoy in solitude, because it is quite aft, and kicks 
 about a good deal, and you have a chance of being sprung 
 out of bed now and then. But it is a comfort of comforts to 
 be by oneself. They feed us like luxury loving Englishmen 
 — hot roUs for breakfast and champagne for dinner, and by 
 this time people have learnt to eat them. 
 
 8 p.iL — "We are going on still very slowly. Just now we 
 are about forty miles from Lisbon, with two intermitting 
 lights appearing and disappearing on the invisible Portuguese 
 coast, and some rocky islands,, like the Holms of the Bristol 
 Channel, showing a dark outline in the moonlight. I am 
 afraid that we shaU not go into Lisbon, and that we shall 
 not be at Gibraltar till Saturday, and Malta till Thursday 
 or Friday. So that I shall not have saved much by avoiding 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 77 
 
 France, in point of time. (Excuse bad writing, but we are 
 rolling grandly with a long N.W. swell.) 
 
 This has been a different day from any before it. It has 
 been quiet as to weather, and people are for the first time 
 finding themselves at home, and making acquaintance. . . . 
 
 Friday mornmg. — All the wind in the world will be spent 
 if it goes on wasting itself upon us in this fashion. Last 
 night another " splendid breeze," or " heavy gale,'' which 
 knocked sleep out of most heads. Just fancy for four days 
 now a huge regular swell from one quarter crossing our 
 course, and an obstinate gale from the other, settling accounts 
 between themselves in their very magnificent fashion, and 
 kicking us small people about without remorse in their 
 battle. We have to sneak and slide along between them, 
 ploughing most warily and humbly between the two grand 
 contending parties, most insolently thumped and kicked out 
 of the way of the swells, and receiving the most meagre 
 pittance of help from the wind, which just deigns to keep 
 our miserable trysails from shaking. They are really very 
 strong great people, this wind and sea, and the Eipon, which 
 looked so big in Southampton docks, and seemed as if 
 nothing in the world but herself could move her, has had 
 the shine completely taken out of her, and been made to 
 look most inconceivably small. Really, comparing my 
 imagination of what she was, and the present look of her, 
 she seems dwindled to the size of a mere Jersey packet. 
 The bright, clear moon, with two or three bright stars, over 
 the wild sea this morning, about 2 A.M., was most glorious. 
 The sea has sights as well as the land most undoubtedly. 
 
 Satv/rday, 30th January, — We have been disappointed in 
 all our land sights. We were to have seen Cape St. Vincent 
 close — the " sacred promontory " of the old world, of which 
 
78 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 Strabo recounts many mysterious things ; but in our great 
 caution we gave the land so wide a berth that we almost 
 missed it. AU eyes strained themselves in vain, for several 
 hours, expecting to see it peer up ; at last a small jet of 
 light, about nine o'clock, shot up from the horizon, showed 
 itself, and disappeared, — " there's the Cape ! " We saw the 
 light two or three times more, and that was all we saw of it. 
 All we can console ourselves with is, that probably the 
 ground over which we were passing is strewed with Nelson's 
 and Jervis's stray cannon shot, in a state of corrosion. 
 To-night we shall pass over that strewn with the remains of 
 Trafalgar, and reach Gibraltar, where I shall post this : 
 though we are so late that probably Malta letters will 
 reach you with or before this. To-day is delightful — smooth 
 water, and every one looking jolly, and writing away as 
 hard as their pens can carry them. 
 
 1 P.M. — I am going to shut up now. We have a beauti- 
 ful day, with, at last, clear green and blue sea. We are 
 now in sight of Cape Trafalgar and the shore of Africa : 
 Cape Spartel with the entrance of the straits open ; Cape 
 Trafalgar, a long low cape with a bluff end, and white 
 chalky - looking cliffs. Africa and the opposite Spanish 
 mountains are very grand looking masses, looking like 
 crouching wild beasts gazing at one another across the 
 sea. ... 
 
 Just in Gibraltar Bay, by moonlight : nothing can be 
 more beautiful and glorious, such a moon and sky, like 
 summer. I can scarcely believe that we have been knocking 
 about as we have. I feel quite in the South. 
 
 . . . We had a short but very pleasant Sunday at 
 Gibraltar — a magnificent spring day, enough to revive the 
 most miserable among t"he sea-sick. Of course, there was a 
 
I FOREIGN TEAVEL 79 
 
 rust on shore, and woe that day to every horse, mule, and 
 jackass let for hire in the town of Gibraltar. Our young 
 Indians formed a body of irregular cavalry, and made furious 
 foray into the Spanish territory ; the array would have 
 astonished any other place but Gibraltar, but it is probably 
 accustomed to these cavalcades ; and besides, it is such a 
 place of strange people, that if men were to come there with 
 two heads they 'would hardly be looked at. The Barbary 
 Moors are very queer looking fellows ; and it requires an 
 effort to feel quite comfortable within their reach. It is 
 astonishing how much there is in dress in making one feel 
 at ease as to a man's tameness. These Moors, with their 
 huge bare legs and coarse rough capote of brown and white 
 stripes, approach most disagreeably to the character of wild 
 animals, and even in Gibraltar they grin and scowl on the 
 Christian passers-by, and they lounge about and stand at 
 their doors, and lie in the sun on the ramparts like so many 
 savage dogs with nothing to do. Close by the bare legs and 
 stripes of the Moors are seen also the bare legs and tartan 
 stripes of the 79th Highlanders, as if even the Horse Guards 
 took a pleasure in adding to the grotesque contrasts of the Eock. 
 It is certainly a place to be seen, both in itself and its 
 surrounding landscape. The mountains round are exceed- 
 ingly fine, and on the other side of the straits, and as it were 
 closing the bay, is the African shore, rising into a great 
 pyramid of a mountain, which is dignified by the name of 
 Ape's HUl. On shore it was like spring. They have 
 managed to get gardens on the Eock, and there you have the 
 same mixture of north and south as in the town — huge 
 aloes, and prickly pears, and orange trees with fruit on 
 them ; and, quite scenting the air, borders of geraniums and 
 roses in flower, and periwinkles in great abundance, and the 
 
80 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 frestest green on the grass and trees. I suppose this must 
 be the best time at Gibraltar ; it must be frightful in summer. 
 It is, of course, crammed with soldiers — five regiments, and 
 a battalion of artillery, and all the regulations are of the 
 most un-English strictness ; all in commerce are scrutinised 
 and catechised most jealously as to their being British sub- 
 jects. I don't know how foreigners get in. Our occupation 
 certainly is a remarkable piece of coolness oil the part of 
 England towards her friend Spain. The outline of the Rock 
 is itself suggestive of our position towards Spain ; it is just 
 like a great beast — if you like, the British lion (by no 
 means caricatured), crouching down watchfully with its nose 
 on the ground and eyeing the neutral groimd and the 
 Spanish posts. "We left the bay at about five o'clock, with 
 its opposite hills over Algesiras of a rich purple, with misty 
 sunlight filling the spaces between the near and more 
 distant ones, and long rays of light shootiag down from the 
 clouds above upon their faces. 
 
 And now we are once more at sea, our deck in shadow 
 from the sails ; with a bright space under the foot of the 
 foresail, and our bow and bowsprit pointing up to the fuU 
 moon, and over the bright greenish -yellow rolling waves 
 which stretch on to the eastern horizon. 
 
 Malta, 6th Februwry 1847. 
 Here we are at Malta after a five days' run (very delight- 
 ful) from Gibraltar. We got in yesterday at 1.30, and have 
 been lionising since. This is a most wonderful and beautiful 
 place, quite the perfection of street architecture. The first 
 thought that strikes one is that the whole town must have 
 been built yesterday ; it looks as if only just out of the 
 stonemasons' hands. Fancy the richest and warmest free- 
 
[ FOREIGN TRAVEL 81 
 
 stone (much warmer and riclier than even the Bolsover stone) 
 employed with the greatest profusion, and cut into the most 
 picturesque doorways, windows, galleries, and balconies, and 
 set off with green woodwork in the balconies — streets of this 
 atone seen from end to end, looking like streets of palaces for 
 size and ornament, and seen in all kinds of curious perspective 
 from the varied rise and fall of the ground ; and further, 
 these magnificent streets are the cleanest I ever saw. As a 
 city, taking it as a whole, and seen by walking through its 
 streets, I have never seen anything which struck me so much 
 — I do not expect to be more struck with Venice. Then the 
 separate Auberges of the diflferent nations or " languages " of 
 the Order, are as grand as they can be, all of the sixteenth 
 century : a rich, and somewhat heavy and barbaric Italian 
 or Palladian, but of very noble proportions. 
 
 The great church here, St. John's, the chapel of the 
 Grand Master, and now called the Cathedral, is in the same 
 style, heavy Italian piers and arches, and waggon vault ; but 
 the pillars are cased with verde antico, or with richly carved 
 and gilded woodwork, and the floor is made up of the grave- 
 stones of the knights, all of the richest mosaic, and the roof 
 painted in fresco. Valetta is quite worth a voyage to see ; 
 I had no idea that it was such a sight in itself. 
 
 Then there is the magnificent harbour and fortifications ; 
 and such a population, such strange half European, half 
 Oriental creatures, who quarrel more gloriously than even 
 the Gibraltar boatmen. Excuse this short note, J only 
 write to say how much I am delighted with Malta. 
 
 Malta, lUh February 1847. 
 I told you all about Valetta before, I think, except that 
 the streets are narrow, and even this is in character. I still 
 
 6 
 
82 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 think it one of the most striking specimens of architecture I 
 have seen ; and it is populated by a race of men, horses, 
 and carriages, which keeps it in perpetual life, and makes 
 the carnival, which is now going on, seem a most tame and 
 stupid business. The real masquerade is daily in the Strada 
 Eeale. A great addition has lately been made to the live 
 curiosities of the place by the arrival of two large ships, 
 Rodney and Albion, whose heroic crews come ashore in shoals, 
 and besides walking on their own legs in the peculiar fashion 
 of the sea, take to bestriding donkeys at a very large angle, 
 exciting the mirth of the Maltese and Italians, and the grave 
 disdain of the sober, dry, bare-legged Scotchmen of the 42nd 
 — tall, upright fellows, who step out with quite a tragic 
 tread. If ever you come travelling to Italy, don't miss 
 Malta if you can help it. 
 
 Outside Valetta the country looks as if the people spent 
 their time in nothing but building big stone walls across 
 their land. But in spite of this extremely unpromising' 
 similitude, it is anything but commonplace and uninteresting. 
 It is in reality made a great deal of, these walls being a sort 
 of buttresses to prevent the light soil being washed away by 
 the rains ; and the narrow fields are now brilliantly green 
 between their dreary grey boundaries, with wheat, barley, and 
 clover. The trees are very few — scattered, black, shrubby 
 carobas (or locust-bean) are the most numerous over the 
 fields ; fig-trees, and here and there a single palm ; and in 
 one direction an olive plantation, in another a garden with 
 dark Turkish looking cypresses — all Oriental. And the 
 Oriental look is increased by a number of square, flat-roofed 
 buildings, with few windows, either cottages or cattle sheds. 
 The whole of the country round Valetta is densely populated 
 — the people collected in large villages or Gasals — so large 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 83 
 
 that they look at a distance like great towns, most of them 
 containing some striking looking houses in narrow winding 
 lanes, and all of them a fine Italian church with its piazza, 
 and its towers and central dome, whose outlines quite crowd 
 the horizon, and stand out most picturesquely along the line 
 of -hills which enclose Valetta. On one of the highest points 
 stands the old capital, Citt^-Vecchia, fortified and looking 
 down from a precipitous ridge, over plain and sea, and 
 crowned by a grand church, riyXc^av^s, where tradition 
 places the residence of the " chief man of the island," and 
 where they show strange catacombs, and a cave said to have 
 been inhabited by St. Paul. Not far oflf is the bay where he 
 is said to have been shipwrecked. We talk of riding there 
 to-morrow. I came in for the festival of the shipwreck, the 
 1 0th of February. The Church of St. Paul in Valetta was 
 decked out with much rude magnificence with lights and 
 damask hangings, and for several days was thronged from 
 morning to night. On the evening of the day itself a great 
 statue of St. Paul was carried in procession through the city. 
 From my window, in the Strada S. Paolo, where the church 
 is, I had a full view of it ; a fine specimen in its way of the 
 religion of the crowd — very coarse and unrefined and mixed, 
 but in its way hearty and warm. The street is straight, like 
 all in Valetta, and rises very steep at one end : toward the 
 other end is the church to which the procession, which had 
 issued from it, was to return after a round. I got to my 
 window, just as the head of it had reached the church, about 
 5.30 in the evening. The street was illuminated : along the 
 cornices of the church pots of fire were burning and smoking 
 away, and at the top of the fagade was a cross of yellow 
 lamps ; lamps were hung from poles all along the street, and 
 at the top of the steep end was a fine arch of yellow lamps 
 
84 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 closely ranged. The sky was still bright, and gave a 
 peculiaily soft effect to the illnmination, as well as giving 
 full colour to the red and yellow hangings of the windows. 
 The procession moved in two lines, and the tapers which 
 each person carried glimmered up the hill ; and on each side 
 the street was lined- hy a dense crowd of the motley throng 
 of Malta — Greeks, Turks, grey -coated and patent-leather 
 belted policemen, Maltese fishermen and calesse - drivers, 
 bare-legged Highlanders, smoking farouche looking French- 
 men in beards and pointed boots, and groups of women 
 • — looking all alike in the black veil and gown, which is the 
 national dress of the island. As the procession came up, 
 the members — religious confraternities and clergy — ^halted 
 and ranged along the street j there was a row of rough 
 Capuoines drawn up opposite my window, and next them the 
 cleanest and neatest of monks, the Dominicans, with their 
 smooth faces and white robes, and light stockings and weU- 
 polished shoes. After some delay, for the procession was 
 very long, we heard a great huzzaing. All eyes were bent 
 up to the arch of lamps ; the huzzas became nearer and 
 louder ; a cloud of boys turned into the street, waving hats 
 and handkerchiefs, and then we saw beneath the illuminated 
 arch at the head of the street, standing out against the clear 
 evening sky, the figure of the Apostle, a bold large statue 
 with outstretched hand, as it were looking down on the 
 crowds below, among whom every face was turned up 
 towards it. The effect was theatrical, but still very striking. 
 The statue remained there a few minutes and then moved 
 down the street, escorted by the mob of shouting boys, dirty, 
 ragged little urchins, who, in spite of priests and police, 
 continued cheering St. Paul till the statue was lodged in the 
 church. Whilst these fellows were shouting, the clergy 
 
I FOREIGN TKAVEL 85 
 
 were chanting. I could not make out whether the Host 
 was carried : something very sacred was, by the way in 
 which the priest who carried it was supported, but there was 
 no canopy, and it might have been relics ; but it made no 
 difference to the shouting and skirmishing of the boys. I 
 suppose it is simply a mistake to look for and expect rever- 
 ence of manner in these people ; it is not one of the ways in 
 which their faith shows itself, though there are many others : 
 certainly, as far as look went, the pageant or national festival 
 seemed to overpower the religious ceremony. But of course 
 all displays of popular religion, however imposing, must be 
 grotesque also. Certainly this was. ... I propose to leave 
 on Wednesday, the I7th, direct for the Piraeus. 
 
 TelAmaqub, Gulf ob Laconia, 
 I9th February, 7 p.m. 
 
 I begin a letter which I hope to finish at Athens. 
 Here we are sailing across the Gulf of Laconia, under the 
 clearest of skies and on the smoothest of seas, with the 
 bright crescent new moon over Taenarus, the great Bear over 
 the hills of Helos, Orion and Sirius blazing over Oythera, 
 and a bright star (Oanopus ?) just showing itself over the 
 south-eastern horizon. To-day has been one of great enjoy- 
 ment. We left Malta on the 17th at six in the evening, and 
 had a good run across yesterday. This morning, on coming 
 on deck at eight, there was Navarino and the Messenian 
 coast before us, and towering high over everything else, 
 Taygetus, with his two peaks covered with snow, and at 70 
 miles off, showing that peculiarly soft and creamy whiteness 
 which I have noticed in aU the snowy mountains I have 
 seen here, all of them seen across great distances, and with 
 the sun full and bright upon them — the Sierra Nevada, 
 
86 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 Etna, and Taygetus. We had Mm in view all day till four 
 o'clock, clianging in some degree, but not much, as we 
 crossed the Gulf of Kalamata or Coron, and ran close along 
 the mountains of Maina. Old Laconia was meant to be a 
 fortress, at least on this side. Nothing can exceed the stern 
 hardness of the coast. The hills here, viewed from the Gulf 
 of Kalamata, run in a rounded outline, very often into cones, 
 and sweep down steeply to the sea in ravines divided by 
 sharp edges of rock — hog-backs or pax^Ses, is not that the, 
 word 1 They look utterly bare, and without trees or earth, 
 except that here and there a village appeared at the bottom 
 of a gully surrounded with an olive plantation, and there is 
 an ambiguous green tint blending with the grey and red of 
 the limestone, which a telescope detects to be some kind of 
 heath or gorse. As we ran on and the day declined, the 
 tints upon this, without being brilliant, were very striking, 
 from the delicate grey and blue of the more distant hills of 
 Messenia to the reddish brown, mixed with dull green, of 
 the nearer ones of Maina, softened by a delica,te yellow haze 
 between us and the land, which melted above and below 
 equally imperceptibly into the blue of the sea and the sky. 
 
 A whole fleet of small brigs and schooners, which had 
 been wind-bound till to-day, were pressing round the cape. 
 I have not seen so many ships at sea since I left England ; 
 we must have passed some thirty or forty, and their white 
 sails, and the white houses and towers which dotted the 
 mountain sides, gave a summery look to the whole view. It 
 was dif&oult to give up gazing on these old hills, and stiU 
 more difficult to make myself believe that here I was within 
 a few miles of Laconia. About half-past four we passed 
 Cape Matapan — rugged and strange in form, a "sort of penin- 
 sula running out under the brow of a loftier mountain. All 
 
t FOREIGN TRAVEL 87 
 
 along this coast the sea is extremely deep — 30 fathoms close 
 to the shore, and 150, 200, 300, a little way out. The 
 evening at sunset was as beautiful as the day ; the purple of 
 the hills became deeper and richer, and the blood-red and 
 orange of the sky was gorgeous ; and now we are running 
 across the bay of Laconia under a moon which, though only 
 four or five days old, gives a most brilliant light. 
 
 9 P.M. — Just round Cape Malea, a sort of double cape 
 with a bay between' its horns. We were close in shore, and 
 the moonlight was bright enough to give a clear view of the 
 outline, while the filling up of crag and cavern and gully 
 was half shown and half confused in the dim light and dark 
 shadow. A single light glimmered upon it as we passed 
 from some boat on the shore. It is a far finer cape, as far as 
 could be seen in the moonlight, than Cape Matapan : a peak 
 to the west, and round and bluif to the east, not very high, 
 but with sufficient size to look very great and massive as we 
 steered over the deep waters at its base, within a stone's throw 
 of the hermit's cell upon it, who lives there all through the 
 year, and is greatly reverenced by the Greek sailors who pass 
 the cape. The moon sunk below it as we rounded it, and 
 left us under its shadow ; and it gradually drew out into the 
 outline of a wild beast couchant, which is not uncommon in 
 some of the finest headlands, e.g. Gibraltar and Monte Circello. 
 The spray dashing up against our bows, and the long swell 
 from the N.E., told us that we were in comparatively open 
 sea again after having had it as smooth as a lake hitherto ; 
 and now we have our head pointed almost straight for the 
 Pirseus, where we are told that we shall be to-morrow 
 morning at six ; so that I suppose I shall be dining with 
 the General to-morrow ; and by this time then I shall have 
 been along the Long Walls, and looked up at the Acropolis, 
 
-88 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 and by way of preface, sq^uabbled witb Greek douaniers and 
 cabmen. 
 
 Athens, 20th. — We got here this morning. I turned out 
 at five, as we were running along the smooth water, with 
 JEgina and the low coast of Attica in sight, in the dim light 
 of the morning. There, verily, were the places themselves. 
 You may suppose I stayed on deck. As the day broke the 
 scene came out more distinctly, .^gina, two miles from us, 
 and a vista of capes and islands retiring behind one another, 
 and opening out in their different shades of grey and purple 
 all along the Argolic side, and the gulf ; before us, for a long 
 time very grey and dim, the mountains of Attica, Fames (I 
 believe) with snow on its top, and Hymettus. The morning 
 was most beautifully clear, and when the sun rose over 
 Sunium, as it did by way of a treat, the delicacy and rich- 
 ness of the tints, the pale green of the sea, the rich red- 
 brown of .^gina, and the various purples, and bines, and 
 greys of the other distances, taken together with the noble 
 forms of the mountains, made a most wonderful scene. The 
 places, too, seemed so strangely familiar, and yet the whole 
 feeling of this morning was as if I was looking at something 
 quite unreal. . . . 
 
 - At the Pirseus the interest altered, at least a new element 
 came in ; — a French line-of-battle ship with band playing, 
 and queer looking fellows in red caps and white kilts paddling 
 about, and a modern Greek frigate, with her equally modern 
 name, in Greek letters, upon her stern, brought the present 
 world into the old one in a very strange way. Then came 
 the ride to Athens, passing in a rickety caUche, driven by a 
 moustaohed fellow in petticoats, over the line of the Long 
 Walls with the Acropolis in sight, and with a vulgar fellow- 
 traveller at my side, who observed that the grazing along the 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 89 
 
 roadside was not eq^ual to that of England. And this is the 
 sort of queer incongruity in which the day passes. It is a 
 different thing from the feeling I have had in visiting other 
 ruined places. There is an activity and life going on here, 
 claiming close kindred and connection with the classical past 
 — so brilliant and refined and highly wrought, so full of 
 solemnity and greatness — and quite unconscious of the 
 contrast between its own vulgarity and bustle, and the utter 
 death-like quiet which hangs over the scenes and ruins 
 among which it works, and which, it seems to fancy, belong 
 to it, in the same way as they did to the Athena of Pericles 
 and Demosthenes. 
 
 To Frederic Eogers, Esq. 
 
 2Uh Feh-uary 1847. 
 I have been living for the last few days in the General's 
 house, in a complete whirl of modern Greek politics, which 
 are the engrossing subjects of Athenian conversation. I will 
 describe our abode and general day's work. The house is 
 reached through a labyrinth of narrow and not very clean 
 streets, as most houses are in Athens ; it stands, like its 
 brethren, in something between a court and a garden, sur- 
 rounded by a wall, and built in the irregular way which is 
 the fashion here — with two or three bits of old sculpture, 
 found in digging the foundations, and built into the outer 
 walls just anyhow. Domestic architecture in Athens has not 
 yet attained the rank of an ornamental art ; it is of a tem- 
 porary or make-shift character, and takes anything that 
 comes to hand, and when it has covered a man, thinks it has 
 done quite enough for him. All the houses nearly are new, 
 for the Turks and Greeks, between them, knocked down the 
 old town — a miserable collection of hovels — and left the 
 
90 DEAN CHUECH S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 space clear for a new one, which has sprung up in spite of 
 attempts at straight streets at right angles to one another 
 (" Places d'Othon and de Louis," and so on, and the example 
 of a most exactly square white palace of the King's), much 
 according to the fashion of its predecessor, in glorious con- 
 tempt of straight lines. Our particular house is situated, as 
 I said, in one of these meandering streets (lanes we should 
 call them in England), which wanders at its own sweet will 
 all round the town from one end to the other, and is trying 
 to get itself the name — though the nation steadily ignores it 
 — of the street of Hadrian. Here is one part of its course, 
 and some one who, instead of building in solitary state, as 
 many people build in Athens, wished to have a next neigh- 
 bour, fenced in with a wall a bit of ground next to what had 
 been last built upon and commenced work. Perhaps he was 
 the more tempted by the shell in good preservation of a stout 
 Turkish tower, which had not been knocked down, and 
 which saved him a good bit of building ; so he added on an 
 elbow (two storeys) to the Turkish tower, and thus he had a 
 pleasing irregular house occupying the two sides of the square 
 of ground, with a rough wall on the street side, and with 
 windows opening into the court. The staircase is on the out- 
 side to the second storey of the new building, in which are the 
 drawing and dining rooms, fair rooms, and inside comfortable 
 enough. . . . The romantic part of the business is that in these 
 troublesome times, when parties run so high, my uncle con- 
 siders it necessary to have his house capable of sustaining an 
 assault, in case of any sudden disturbance ; so that things 
 are arranged for defence, and he has friends and old retainers 
 living in the neighbourhood to whom his house would be a 
 rendezvous in case of a row. I hope he deceives himseK into 
 thinking there is more insecurity than is really the case ; 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 91 
 
 but, certainly, the idea of being prepared for a skirmisli 
 pleases him. Parties run very high here, and the English 
 party call the French party (none of whom, of course, I have 
 seen) all sorts of names — brigand, assassin, and so forth, with 
 the greatest profusion of aggravating and horrifying epithets. 
 But as regards actual security of the person, in Athens, or in 
 the country, at least to strangers, other Englishmen are much 
 less alarming than my uncle, so you need not be frightened ; 
 I only mention our fortifications as a part of the grotesque 
 world in which I am living. . . . 
 
 The house is a regular trysting-place for the members of 
 the Opposition. First comes one of the old captains of the 
 war, a rugged old gentleman from the mountains of the west, 
 in a great white woollen sort of capote, like a sheepskin with 
 the wool ■ inside, with the white petticoat or fustanella, and 
 then leggings and slippers ; probably he only talks modern 
 Greek, but he is introduced to me, and we have a great deal 
 of mute but smiling bowing, and shaking of hands, and so 
 on ; presently in comes one of the white-kilted servants, and 
 with a humble inclination of body, and placing his hand 
 on his heart, offers a long pipe to my friend, who commences 
 puflSng. Of course the conversation is not very intelligible ; 
 but it always consists in abusing Coletti and King Otho. 
 Presently in comes another gentleman ; he may be dressed 
 in the extreme of the Parisian fashion, tight boots and lemon- 
 coloured kid gloves ; he is sure to talk French and Italian 
 with the greatest fluency, perhaps also English. The pipe is 
 brought in and offered, probably he declines it. Then comes 
 a dandy of another cut, one who sticks to the native dress 
 and wears it (an extremely handsome one anyhow, when the 
 white kilt is clean) in its greatest elegance : a cloth jacket of 
 red, or blue, or olive, richly embroidered with black lace, 
 
92 DEAN CHDKCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 with loose sleeves opened all down the arm, and just fastened 
 round it in two or three places ; over this a waistcoat without 
 sleeves still more richly embroidered, shirt and kilt of snowy 
 whiteness, a rich shawl girdle, and red or blue leggings — ^and 
 just nourishing a small moustache which contrasts strongly 
 with the huge grizzle which twists up under the hooked nose 
 of our shaggy friend ; and so the session goes on, enlarging 
 as people drop in one after another, in all sorts of dresses; and 
 as each comes in, he is soon followed by a long pipe, which 
 none but the more exquisite or the invalids refuse. There 
 they sit in a circle, talking very loud Greek, Italian, and 
 French, abusing the ministry and the present state of things, 
 for two hours. 
 
 For the last weeks I have been living among people who 
 form the most grotesque contrasts to all that I have been 
 accustomed to. The difference of scene and dress is very 
 soon got over, and the views of the Acropolis, and the rickety 
 cabs driven below them by fierce moustached coachmen in 
 red caps and white petticoats, do not move me more than St. 
 Mary's and a Vice-ChaneeUor and pokers would -do. But 
 the company that I keep — quite, I assure you, the ^ite of 
 Athens — is very different from all your people at Oxford. 
 First, all my friends are strong Liberals, and I hear nothing 
 but Liberalism all day long. No one here has any notion 
 that an Englishman can be other than a Liberal ; if he was 
 not, he would be a sort of unintelligible contradictory monster, 
 who by some accident had come to be bred in the great 
 country of enlightened constitutionalism. Of course all our 
 governments have acted more or less so as to foster the idea, 
 and the English who come to live here, besides the strong 
 temptations of a foreign residence to become real Liberals, 
 can hardly help appearing to be so, unless they take the line 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 93 
 
 of talking against England and English policy and pro- 
 ceedings. Primd fade, it is taken for granted that an 
 Englishman abhors Jesuits and despotism as the two greatest 
 of evils, and would die — or at least give a good deal of money 
 — to provide constitutions for all nations wanting them ; and 
 it is difficult to make the natives understand that one is quite 
 content with one's freedom at home from thumb-screws and 
 black-holes without violently sympathising with all the 
 insurrectionists in Europe. The confusion of ideas is quite 
 grotesque ; they get their notions of liberalism from French 
 radical papers, the only ones which are read by the Greeks ; 
 then they say England is liberal, and so father all the 
 French radical doctrines on England, who is supposed to 
 patronise and enforce them against France, which here at 
 least is supposed to back up despotism, and to work against 
 "the Constitution." So that viewed as a Greek would 
 represent it, the battle here between England and France is 
 a sort of endless pursuing of their own tails. Next, I find 
 myself in the focus of a political row, which my Oxford 
 experience helps me to understand, but which is still more 
 ferocious than even the onslaught of * * * and * * *. 
 There is first the open public row in the Chamber, between 
 the Ministry and the Opposition, who have been for the last 
 three years fighting in a most Homeric manner, which is 
 remembered not so much by this or that motion lost or won, 
 but by the skill and success on particular occasions of this or 
 that jrpdjMaxos, how energetically Diomedes slew his opponent, 
 and how Lysander and Lycurgus struck terror into the hosts 
 of the Moschomangi — which is the nickname (I don't under- 
 stand it) of the Ministerialists. Their House of Commons is 
 a striking sight in its way : the half military, half country 
 gentleman look of the moustachioed members, the mixture 
 
94 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 of showy Greek with sad- coloured, sombre European 
 dresses, and the faces and airs of a number of the members, 
 not unlike the pictures of the burly soldiers and flash 
 courtiers of the time of Charles I., always puts me in mind 
 of his House of Commons. And those of the Opposition 
 Greeks who are learned enough in Western history to have 
 heard anything about the parliamentary struggles before our 
 civil war, like to draw a parallel between them and tiieir 
 own battle with King Otho and his pet Minister Coletti 
 Then, when the public battle is over, succeeds an endless 
 series of visitings and gatherings where they speculate, and 
 abuse their enemies, and bring and receive news — what new 
 votes the Minister has bought, and how much national 
 property he has granted away for them, what new sneaking, 
 sharp practice the King has employed to silence one witness, 
 and what sort of poison was used to get another out of the 
 way, how many English ships are coming, and how terrible 
 they will be to the corrupt court. There is no intercourse 
 between the two parties ; each thinks the other fit for 
 nothing but to be food for the crows, and would not be 
 sorry for a favourable opportunity of preparing the dish for 
 them. The things that are spoken of as likely or desirable, 
 and still more those that are alluded to, are quite horrifying 
 to my quiet English proprieties. I have certainly got a 
 clearer notion than I used to have of a political fight as it 
 used to be two hundred years ago. 
 
 In all this political row between the Mosohomangi people 
 and the Opposition ecclesiastical matters are not very pro- 
 minent. The Roman Catholic King is practical head of the 
 Church, which, in the Constitution, is made to profess entire 
 independence of Constantinople, though united with it in 
 doctrine. He nominates the bishops, and out of the bishops 
 
1 FOREIGN TRAVEL 95 
 
 he also appoints the five who form the governing synod. 
 Meanwhile, as a power in the State, the Church as yet makes 
 very little show ; the Liberals on both sides are, of course, 
 for cutting down, suppressing monasteries, paying the clergy 
 by the State, and having as few bishops as possible ; and 
 probably they will carry out their wishes, though at present 
 they are too husy with other things. The Church party, the 
 " Phil-orthodox," who are patronised by Russia, are now in 
 close league with the Liberals of the Opposition against the 
 Liberals of the Ministry, and so do not say very much about 
 their differences, but they are said to be people of very strong 
 opinions ("bigoted, fanatical," are the words applied to them 
 by my friends), who are exceedingly disgusted with the 
 Liberal ways of proceeding with Church property, and with 
 the position of the Greek Church, as laid down in the Con- 
 stitution, against the Patriarch of Constantinople ; and as 
 they have some clever fellows among them, and have Russia 
 to back them, they will probably be heard of in time. The 
 bulk of the population appear to be completely under the 
 influence of the Church ; of course everything is very rude, 
 churches, priests, service and congregation, as you would 
 naturally expect a popular religion, kept up and followed, in 
 a very rude people, to be. 
 
 Athens, ith March. 
 I have dropped down here at a good moment, at least a 
 curious one. The Minister is a certain M. Coletti, an ex- 
 secretary or quack doctor, I forget which, of Ali Pacha, and 
 said to have been made good use of by that respectable old 
 gentleman ; but in due time he became a patriot, and white- 
 washed and polished himself up by a six years' residence in 
 Paris as Minister. He is personally a favourite of the King's, 
 and hand in glove with M. Piscatory, the Minister, and with 
 
96 DEAN CHUECH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 tlie French party. I saw him the other day in the Senate, 
 the yepova-La or Upper House. This body, consisting of 
 members for life (about forty), is supposed to be made up of 
 the most distinguished people of the country ; and here the 
 English party is generally the strongest. Coletti came as 
 Minister, to give explanations about a bill. He marched in 
 with extreme pomp : a big, broad-shouldered man in Greek 
 costume of red cap, and white kilt, and embroidered leggings, 
 seeming almost smothered in the rich fur on his jacket. His 
 appearance was not in his favour ; he sat in a moody sort of 
 way, seldom looking up, and never looking any one in the 
 face, and acting the great man out of humour in a grotesque 
 sort of way. This M. Coletti, the Opposition says, is doii^ 
 all he can to subvert the Constitution, and bring in a 
 despotism such as the King would like ; and he does this by 
 making the Government go on as badly as possible, and 
 speciatvm by privately encouraging all sorts of bad characters 
 and brigandism, so that he may drive the nation at last to 
 lay the blame of all their troubles on the Constitution, and 
 ask, " What good has this Constitution done us ? " This has 
 been going on for nearly three years. People abuse one 
 another so furiously that it is hard to believe aU that is said ; 
 but I should think that there is little doubt that M. Coletti 
 is no better than he should be. He is at present, howe^r, 
 apparently at the end of his ministry ; at least he is involved 
 in some haM dozen extremely awkward scrapes, and if the 
 King persist in keeping him, I should really think that there 
 will be fighting. He has persisted all along in bearing on 
 his own broad shoulders the weight of four out of the seven 
 " responsible Ministerships " appointed by the Constitution, 
 — Interior, Justice, Education and Ecclesiastical Aflfairs, and 
 Foreign Affairs, — an arrangement which, of course, has many 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 97 
 
 advantages, but increases also a man's chances of scrapes, 
 which, with arrears, are said to be considerable in these 
 several departments. The number of displaced functionaries 
 — displaced by their own account on political grounds only 
 — police magistrates, professors, and "judges of Areopagus," 
 whom I have met here is pretty well ; and these fellows are 
 turned loose to write newspapers, which are numerous and 
 warmly supported by their party, and eagerly read. (There 
 are some twenty at least in Athens, the largest part being 
 Opposition papers.) Then he is beginning to break with 
 some of his friends. Two of the most effective were two 
 sworn brothers in arms, named Grivas and Grizzotis — two 
 inseparables, who are always to be seen together in the 
 streets, or in the Chamber, dressed in the richest style of 
 Greek military costume, and carrying it off with a swagger 
 which is not uncommon with the wearers of the native dress. 
 Grivas looks very like a theatrical captain of banditti ; and 
 Grizzotis like a theatrical grey-haired Parliamentarian in 
 I Pwitani. Both these gentlemen would require some soap 
 and water to wash them clean — Grivas requiring considerably 
 the larger quantity. They used to walk about with the most 
 terrifying "tails" of palicari (bravi is just the Italian for 
 them), which they were wont to switch most uncomfortably 
 in the faces of the Opposition members. However, Grivas 
 quarrelled with the King about a dinner, and Grizzotis, his 
 friend, about something else ; and now they have turned 
 steady men, disinterested citizens, who have resigned their 
 preferments, and are ready to serve their country, and have 
 become quiet and almost respectable characters, having cut 
 off and laid aside their "tails," at least for the present. 
 They are now holding out hands to the Opposition ; and 
 among other things they have taken to worrying the unlucky 
 
 H 
 
98 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 Coletti with tie most determined ferocity in the Chamber of 
 Deputies ; and he, like a great offended owl, not knowing 
 how to maintain his dignity, instead of facing them runs 
 away, which does not raise his character. Just at this crisis 
 he has contrived to get into a quarrel with the Turks, and to 
 get caught out in a piece of financial sharp practice, which 
 there is no denying, and which has brought the Chambers 
 upon him. The King turned his back at one of his own 
 balls on the Turkish Minister for refusing a passport, which 
 he had been expressly ordered by his own Government not 
 to give, and then Coletti insulted the Ambassador further, 
 by telling him that it was just like him, and that the King 
 had served him right ; whereupon the Ambassador wrote to 
 Constantinople, and the Turk now, who certainly has behaved 
 with great dignity and diplomatic propriety, tells Coletti that 
 satisfaction must be given within thirty days, or all inter- 
 course will be broken oil. The man to whom the passport 
 was refused tried quite lately to get up an insurrection in 
 Macedonia, and is now one of the King's aides-de-camp. I 
 have read the letters of all parties, and the comments of the 
 different Greek papers, and Coletti and the King certainly 
 seem to have very little to say for themselves. When this 
 took place there was a good deal of vapouring about war with 
 Turkey, and approaching marriages and christenings were to 
 be celebrated in Santa Sophia ; but this seems to have gone 
 off, the Opposition warriors, who are some of the most dis- 
 tinguished, not being at present in the humour to fight with 
 the Turks ; and the Ministers at Constantinople, except the 
 French, siding very strongly with the Turkish Ambassador. 
 The home affair is only the discovery of a system of falsifica- 
 tion of the official corn averages by which the duty on com (a 
 sliding scale) is fixed, of which the Finance Minister bearing 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 99 
 
 the inauspicious name of " Poneropoulos " ( — " pouloa " being 
 equivalent to our son) has as yet given an extremely lame 
 account, and which an energetic commission of the Chamber 
 of Deputies is now diligently engaged in hunting out to the 
 bottom. Of the fact there is no doubt, and the Minister 
 throws himself on the mercy of the Chamber by pleading 
 guilty to Mches ; he had so much to do ; but the Chamber, 
 with perfect propriety, are not disposed to acquit him of any 
 negligence ; and as Coletti's signature is also to the averages, 
 and he besides is such an atlas of administration, he wiU be 
 in for whatever his subordinate catches from the commission. 
 To add to his distress, England wants some of her money, 
 and he is daily iu expectation of three line-of-battle ships off 
 the Piraeus, by way of hint ; he has been already allowed 
 400,000 drachmae in his budgets of '45 and '46, which have 
 disappeared in some other way, and he is now trying to 
 smuggle an irregular bill to authorise a credit for the pay- 
 ment, without putting it in the budget. Unlucky gentle- 
 man ! He certainly appears to be got to the edge ; but they 
 say the King will not let him go, and the Opposition, who 
 are vtndoubtedly gaining every day, make no scruple of 
 saying, that whoever else goes with him, Coletti shall go, 
 and if not by fair means, still in some way. ... If he is 
 turned out I do not see who there is to take his place, 
 for the Opposition people are so much out with the King 
 personally, that I cannot imagine their getting on with him. 
 How they would do I don't know. They would certainly 
 be under honester influences than I think Coletti is, and one 
 of their leading men was expatiating the other day on the 
 lesson which the corrviption and profligate waste of public 
 property by this Ministry had given to the Opposition, 
 against the time when they should come into power. It 
 
100 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 would make tliem mind their proprieties, and be a warning 
 to them to keep from picking and stealing, — they would be 
 forced to keep up "une administration austfere." 
 
 The Chamber of Deputies appears to oifer a good field for 
 a Minister to operate upon. They tell me that not one man 
 in ten has enough to maintain himself on in Athens, and 
 accordingly, places are most acceptable, and promises are the 
 great engines of government ; and not a tenth can be ful- 
 filled, yet, with a sanguine people like this, the principle of 
 a lottery is said to work well, and to keep votes with the 
 Ministers. The interest which the Athenian public take in 
 politics seems to be absorbing ; there are nearly a score of 
 newspapers published twice a week to satisfy their cravings ; 
 but they like to hear and to tell, rather than to read. The 
 uncertainty of any news is a curious feature of this part of 
 the world. Every one, even leading people, seem quite con- 
 tent with it as a report, and to trouble themselves very 
 little to ascertain on what authority it rests ; it is quite 
 sufficient for them in its nnauthenticated oral shape, and by 
 the time that a cautious Englishman, who is deprived of the 
 Times, feels clear that it is true, it has become quite out of 
 date and stale. It is to me one of the most curious con- 
 trasts between the half civilisation here and our own state 
 of society ; the circulation and verification of intelligence 
 goes on still, mainly by the same imperfect means as it did 
 in the days of Thucydides, and is practically to the nation 
 and even the city as precarious and difficult. France is in 
 the way to get hold of the political training of these people ; 
 for the only foreign newspapers they look at are the Erench 
 — SiMe, National, Dubois, and Presse. I should doubt, 
 were it not so improbable d priori, whether a Times ever 
 reaches Athens : 1 have not seen or heard of one (yes — 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 101 
 
 there is one at the English reading-room). And the course 
 of opinion is decidedly French, even among the English 
 party who detest the French Government because it is 
 upholding the German Court notions and policy of the King ; 
 they look for material help to Lord Palmerston and his 
 three-deckers, but for intellectual direction, they take ideas 
 and formulae from their oracles, the French Liberal press and 
 M. Thiers. It is curious though to see France viewed as 
 backing up the old notions of Eoyal power, and England 
 simply as the representative of Liberalism and all that sort 
 of thing. And one cannot help looking at it oneself in a 
 great measure with Greek spectacles ; it appears curiously 
 different seen at a distance or close. It is uncommonly 
 difficult to get hold of anything that one can entirely under- 
 stand and believe ; partly from one's own want of quickness, 
 and partly because it is necessary to pass the day in a 
 sceptical state of mind when in company with these lively 
 Greeks. Truth-telling, however, is highly prized here, one 
 of them told me, " Quando in Greoia un uomo dice la verity, 
 veramente I'adorano " ; it was meant, as one naturally takes 
 it, as an ambiguous compliment to his countrymen. Of 
 their " sharpness " there can be no doubt ; the schools 
 (Government chiefly) are crowded, and there are a great 
 number in Athens of poor scholars, who come here and take 
 service in order to go to the schools at the same time — 
 regular servitors. I wish I had room to give you a full 
 account of the means taken by a friend of mine, who was 
 Governor somewhere, to make the old people take to his 
 schools — those who hung back from sending their children, 
 " gli ho perseguitato " — " I'uno io metteva in arresto," and 
 so on ; while he coaxed and favoured those who sent their 
 children (a most grotesque story, told with the utmost ev'^Oeia), 
 
102 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 so that tliere is no danger of the young Greeks not being 
 fond of some sort or other of illumination ; but it will be of 
 a curious sort. At present they are a curious mixture of 
 sharpness and simplicity ; living in a kind of dreamland, in 
 which Greece is the central point, and the great " Protecting 
 Powers " are strange mysterious divinities, fighting among 
 themselves for the exclusive control of its fate. Their 
 curiosity and quickness and mistakes are amusing, like those 
 of children ; and like children, it is impossible to put them 
 up to the complicated state of things in the West. I cannot 
 tell what hold the Church has on them : a great number of 
 the leading men are, I should think, highly Liberal, and the 
 course of legislation is to clip Church revenues and power ; 
 but the churches are full morning and afternoon, and the 
 strong religious feeling at present of the nation at large is 
 undoubted. I was edified by an old weather-beaten soldier 
 from the mountains of Western Greece, one of the heroes of 
 the late war, who keeps Lent with a strictness most disagree- 
 able to some of his more enlightened fellow-partisans, who 
 are afraid to drink milk with their tea for fear of scandalis- 
 ing him. The old gentleman is a fine specimen in his way, 
 and would obviously like nothing better than a good time of 
 war again, for which it really looks as if he would not have 
 to wait long. The parish clergy are said to be ignorant, but 
 good sort of people. The King being a Eoman Catholic is 
 an anomalous sort of thing, which does not add to his chance 
 of being well with the nation. He has great power in 
 ecclesiastical matters (nominating bishops, and selecting the 
 five who form the governing synod). On the other hand, 
 he being a very strong Eoman Catholic, (1) is married to a 
 Protestant ; (2) is bound by the Constitution to bring up his 
 children as members of the Greek Church ; and (3) has to 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 103 
 
 attend the Greek services on certain days, for which he is 
 said to receive absolution as soon as he returns to the palace. 
 It is a strange arrangement. One of my friends tells me 
 continually that we (England) should send the Greeks three 
 things, and that then they would get on grandly, viz. — 
 Engineers to make Artesian wells ; People to teach the 
 Greeks not to waste and spoil their grapes ; Capital. 
 " Acqua ci manca, danari ci mancano, ed il vino nostro 
 guastiamo noi." 
 
 To C. M. Church, Esq. 
 
 TUBKISH TOWEK, TJNDEE THE N.E.'AnGLB 
 
 OF THE ACEOPOLIS, &Ch March 1847. 
 
 I am weather-bound here, waiting for the weather to say 
 one or the other, whether it will be fine or not, before I begin 
 an expedition round Attica. My route is — 1st day, a village 
 near Sunium ; 2nd day, Sunium, Thoricus, and Prasise ; 
 3rd day, Marathon ; 4th day, by Rhamnus to Oropus ; 5th 
 day, by Deceleia, or else by Phylse to Athens ; or perhaps 
 turn off to Eleusis first, which will make another day. 
 Travelling is slow on horseback with baggage horses. My 
 companion is a Greek friend of the General's, an employ^ in 
 the " Woods and Forests," who knows all the country, and 
 who takes with him some of his men as a guard against 
 klephts. He is a sharp little man, with moustachios, named 
 Vilaeti, who speaks Italian not much better, but more fluently 
 than I do, and, I daresay, will be a good guide. I hope to 
 have a grand dispatch to send you by the post after this. 
 
 I have been inactive for the last fortnight, but I could 
 not well do otherwise ; it would not have done to run off 
 into the country, and to have left the General at once ; but 
 I hope now my campaigning will begin. I have lost some 
 
104 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTEKS paet 
 
 time by not getting up better my work before I came. I 
 have had to be reading when I ought to have been looking 
 about me, or learning modern Greek, which is a great puzzle 
 from the way in which familiar words are disguised by their 
 accentual pronunciation. However, by this time - 1 know 
 Athens pretty nearly as well as I know Winchester, and I 
 don't think I shall easily forget it. I have at last been to 
 the Acropolis, which I left to the last. It is certainly most 
 magnificent. The size of the Parthenon is much greater 
 than the view of it from the town leads you to expect, and 
 when you get up to the platform of the rock, it spreads out 
 its colonnade, broken as it is, with a mixture of calm solem- 
 nity and brightness, which calls up the idea of a beautiful 
 human face such as you see in Greek sculpture, as if that 
 was the expression which the architect, by his own method, 
 meant to suggest to the beholder. It is remarkable what 
 extreme attention these Greek architects paid to the effect of 
 their buildings. There is a young architect here, a Mr. 
 Penrose, who is taking all the measurements with the 
 utmost accuracy ; and the results as to the contrivances em- 
 ployed to give the fullest optical effect to the building are 
 very curious. For instance, there is not a single column 
 which is perpendicular ; they all lean inwards to a definite 
 degree. Then, he says, there is scarcely a straight line in 
 the building ; all, except some few straight lines, are mathe- 
 matical curves, sections of the cone which agree with the 
 calculated curves exactly, and are such as just would give 
 the fullest effect to the lights and shadows. 
 
 There are also some French architects at work, one of 
 whom has just discovered what he supposes to be the mark 
 of Neptune's trident (v. Herod. 8. 55 ; Pausanias, 26. 6 ; 
 Wordsworth's Athens, 133). In excavating under the 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 105 
 
 northern wing of the Brechtheum he came to a walled 
 chamber, in the rocky floor of which are three natural holes 
 in a straight line, not quite equidistant, hut near enough to 
 convey the idea of the a-rifielov ; and near it, channels as if 
 for water cut in the rock. There seems no reason why it 
 should not be what it is taken for. These things bring back 
 the past with a sort of thrill, and the Acropolis is full of 
 these mementos. The impression of the votive shield on the 
 east end of the Parthenon — the marks of the wheels of 
 chariots in the rocky entrance under the Propylsea — the 
 architect's lines and circles, still left in the unfinished base- 
 ment of the columns of the Propylsea, left unfinished from 
 the breaking out of the Peloponnesian war; — the finished 
 rustic work of the basement of the old temple which the 
 Persians destroyed, left as part of the foundation of the more 
 magnificent Parthenon, the new part of the foundation of 
 which is continued on from it with rough blocks, to the 
 requisite length — and the fragments of columns and triglyphs 
 belonging to the same temple built into the northern wall of 
 the Acropolis, in the hurry of the repairs under Themistocles 
 — have a different effect from that of mere repairs ; they 
 bring back the sort of private history and the everyday 
 business of those times ; it is like catching a glimpse of the 
 men themselves ; it in some measure peoples the scene. 
 
 And now to our private life. The day passes generally 
 as I described in my last : solitary breakfast, day to myself, 
 pa/rtie carrfy at dinner, pipes and coffee after, and the com- 
 pany of the old chieftain Demo Chelio, with his deep laugh, 
 and white woollen capote, whence he derives the name of 
 "Aa-irpo Sid^oXo, i.e. white devil. There are not many 
 English. I have dined once or twice at Sir B. Lyons', and 
 at Mr. Hill's the chaplain. ... I have not met with any 
 
106 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 chance of a companion, and I do not mucli expect one. I 
 shall try hard to get on to Delphi. My next plan after that 
 is >aEgina, Epidaurus, the plain of Argos, if possible, Nemea, 
 and the Stymphalian country, Corinth, and home. I am 
 afraid I must give up Sparta ; the General will not hear 
 of it. 
 
 Ebom the House of the Ex-Dbmaech. 
 Keratia, 10th Mwrck 1847. 
 I begin a sort of journal letter of my expedition. If you 
 want to know where I am, look in a good map of Attica, 
 e.g. Leake or Wordsworth, about 15 miles to the north of 
 Sunium, and you may, perhaps, find the out-of-the-way place 
 where I am writing, much to the astonishment of all my 
 companions and the inmates of my domicile. We have just 
 done dinner iu a large upper room in one of the chief houses 
 of this village, which, though something like a good large 
 barn in England, is by no means a bad resting-place after a 
 day's ride. Imagine, then, a large barn, with a good blazing 
 fire of cedar brushwood, smelling very aromatic. My com- 
 panions are, first, a chief ranger in the Greek " Woods and 
 Forests," who is my guide and cicerone ; secondly, two of his 
 men, fine-looking fellows, of the Albanian cut, armed up to 
 the teeth with Turkish sabre, silver-mounted pistol and 
 dagger and long gun, in the fashionable white kilt and red 
 cap, and sheepskin " floccata " or cape — ^uncommonly warlike 
 gentry, who, if they were not allowed to wear arms in the 
 service of the Government as keepers of the woods and 
 forests, would probably wear them on their own account, and 
 guard the woods and forests for themselves ; thirdly, the 
 sons of the demareh, or rather the ex-demarch, an authority 
 equivalent to our mayor, who have just come in from the 
 plough, and appear to be honest sort of labourera These 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 107 
 
 are all assembled in one big room, smoking and looking on 
 with mucb curiosity at my proceedings (one of the boys has 
 just come without any shyness, but without any forwardness 
 either, simply to look over my shoulder, to see what opera- 
 tion was going on while I was writing). We have just 
 dined — ^first myself and M. Vilaeti my companion, at a 
 table, on " pillaw '' of rice and butter, boiled fish, and cold 
 lamb, finishing off with pipes (in which I am quite an adept) 
 and coffee ; then, on a mat spread on the floor, the guards 
 and the demarch's family, who, as it is Lent (which these 
 wild soldiers observe in their way most strictly), have re- 
 stricted themselves to olives, and a sort of caviare. They 
 would not eat our " pillaw " because there was butter in it, 
 and now they are marching about the room talking, and one 
 of. them preparing tea. My " guardia boschi " I have really 
 quite taken a fancy to, in spite of their somewhat roughish 
 looks ; there is a curious simplicity and natural civility 
 mixed up with the military dandyism and conceit which 
 marks their whole tribe, which gives a good deal of zest to 
 the intercourse which I carry on with them, partly in bad 
 Italian and worse Greek, and partly by signs. But I must 
 give you a sketch of our line of march. 
 
 We started from Athens at half-past eight this morning, 
 myself and M. Vilaeti on horseback, the two " guardia 
 boschi " exalted high on the backs of two mules laden with 
 carpet-bags and baskets of provisions, with their long guns 
 in front of them and across their knees, and the muleteer on 
 foot, armed with a long gun also, and a couple of pipes for 
 us, stuck like pistols in his belt. We rsde through the 
 narrow plain, between Hymettus and Lycabettus, a red stony 
 flat, covered with wild thyme and dwarf shrubs of the 
 prickly oak. It was a beautiful morning, and the three 
 
108 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pari' 
 
 great mountains — Hymettus, grey and silvery, on our right ; 
 Parnes, with its black patches of forest scattered over its 
 bare, craggy sides, on our left ; and Pentelicus in front, a 
 beautiful rich purple pyramid, rising straight from the plain 
 — made a glorious scene. Travelling in this fashion, we go 
 at a foot's pace, about three miles an hour, and so have 
 plenty of time to look about us. We wound round the 
 northern spur of Hymettus, and then doubled it, moving 
 along its eastern base. Here we got into the Mesogsea, a 
 series of small fiat plains, winding in and out, as the great 
 ranges open or close on them, and with a number of small 
 hills rising over them, some broken and craggy, where the 
 rock has broken through the soil, and others round and 
 conical. The mountains are covered with brushwood, cedar, 
 tamarisk, the prickly oak, and the "Pinus maritima''^- 
 TrevKoi — which often grows to a large tree ; but the shep- 
 herds who wander about the country with their flocks, and 
 find but very little to feed them with, are in the habit of 
 setting fire to the woods, to make a clearing and produce 
 pasture-tracks, — a habit which it is the chief office of my 
 companion to restrain. Every now and then we came to a 
 grove of olives, often in a recess in the hills, a regular 
 aAo-os, which generally showed a church half- appearing 
 through the grey foliage and grotesquely twisted trunks ; but 
 through all the country, except a solitary church, not a 
 building was to be seen except in the villages. The people 
 live together, and go out and work in the district belonging 
 to their village at the corn-lands and vineyards ; but they 
 do not live in single farmhouses. This gives a solitary look 
 to the country, such as one sees only in downs in England ; 
 but in spite of great quantities of stony and uncultivated 
 land, it is not dreary. The flowers are coming out ; here 
 
1 FOREIGN TRAVEL 109 
 
 aad there among the brushwood a bright red anemone, and 
 other sorts less brilliant, white, violet, and blue ; the yellow 
 broom, too, is coming out on the hills ; and the olive has to 
 me an extremely pleasing effect We dined at a place you 
 will probably look for in vain, Koroupia, just under the base 
 of one of the spurs of Hymettus, and after a beautiful after- 
 noon's ride of three hours, got to this place, under the 
 shadow of a noble mountain, which they call here Elympo, 
 or Olympo. To-morrow we start for Sunium and Thoricus. 
 
 My Greek guards are immense fun with the mackintosh 
 air-bed which I have with me. They have taken it into 
 their special care, and are just like children with it, racing 
 one against another, which shall fill a compartment first with 
 the bellows, or with their mouth. They consider it a wonder 
 of art, and intend to floor their friends at Athens with riddles 
 about a man whom they have seen, who sleeps on wind. 
 They are capital attendants, and quite watch every want 
 which they fancy I may have. It is very curious to be 
 among these wild people with their pistols and daggers and 
 scimitars, mounted with silver ; the passion for ornamental 
 arms is quite a ruling one with them ; and Government 
 indulges it by allowing the irregular troops, and the police, 
 etc. (besides some not very creditable retainers of the great 
 men), to dress as they like, and to sport all sorts of 
 dangerous weapons. 
 
 llth Ma/rch. — To-day we have had a long, but most 
 delightful ride to Sunium. We started at seven, and rode 
 through a very noble mountain pass, down to Thoricus : a 
 great part of the road was high on the mountain side, over- 
 looking a deep, gloomy ravine ; we looked down on a wide 
 chasm in the limestone rocks, which were of all colours, — 
 green, red, yellow, and purple, — through which the winter 
 
no DKAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 torrents must rush along in fine style, and this ended in a 
 dell thickly wooded with evergreens of this country, with 
 their varied shades. The view at the end of this was very 
 fine ; the channel of EubcBa, like a broad river, with two 
 long islands, one behind the other, the water of the deepest 
 blue, and the beautiful puiples of the various distances con- 
 trasting with all the greens and reds of the mountains which 
 opened out ujjon the shore. Every now and then we came 
 to long tracts of scoriae. These are from the now exhausted 
 mines of Laurium, and all over the wooded hills of this 
 extremity of Attica one comes to places where the smelting 
 was carried on. The ride to Sunium along the face of the 
 hills, with the sea glistening and just crisped by the wind, 
 was delicious ; it had the zest, too, of being thought a little 
 dangerous, and we rode in military order, one of our guards 
 riding in front as our advanced guard, perched up on the 
 top of a mule, with his long gun across his knees, ourselves 
 in the centre, and the other bringing up the rear. However, 
 no klephts appeared, and we rode up the steepest hill that I 
 can conceive a horse carrying a man up, to the temple. Tou 
 know generally how it stands ; fourteen or sixteen white 
 marble Doric columns on the top of a cape 400 feet high, 
 which stretches far out into the sea, and looks up the Gulf 
 of ^gina in one direction, and the Euboean Channel in the 
 other, and in front commands a vista of the islands, as they 
 run out one beyond another, from Makronisi to (they say, 
 but "t) Melos. 
 
 Marathon, Wth March. 
 
 I must give you a line from this place, though I was too 
 
 sleepy to finish my work last night, and have had eleven 
 
 hours on horseback to-day. We have come from Keratia, 
 
 passing by the old Pfasise (Porto Eaphti), a beautiful bay, 
 
I rOKEIGN TRAVEL 111 
 
 where a lot of very ruffian-looking Greek irregulars were 
 breakfasting. We dined under a hot Juno sua, which quite 
 burnt my hands, near the old Brauron, and rode along the 
 outside of the hills, between them and the sea, through the 
 woods. About five the weather changed, and the clouds 
 gathered very thick over Pentelicus and its spurs ; and at 
 six we rode into the plain of Marathon, with a wild and 
 gloomy sky, the evening sunlight just catching the distant 
 headlands of Eubcea, and throwing a white sickly gleam 
 upon them. I am glad to have seen Marathon as I have 
 done — late in the evening, the time of day of the battle 
 itself, under a dark, stern, stormy sky, which, without con- 
 cealing the features of the scene, gave them a great solemnity. 
 The plain, as flat as the sea itself, is one of the gulfs of land 
 which run in here among the mountains. Entering it from 
 the south, it is bounded by rounded down-like hills of con- 
 siderable height, while behind rise — steep, craggy, and 
 pointed — the last spurs of Pentelicus ; over these last the 
 clouds hung low and rolled together, just leaving in the 
 south-west an opening of light, which gave additional depth 
 and shade to the outline of hills along which it was spread. 
 The one conspicuous object in this wide flat of about six 
 miles is the Tumulus of the 192 Athenians. There are 
 great differences of opinion about the position of the armies ; 
 but by the consent of all the critics, we were allowed to 
 believe, on this wild evening, as it. closed on us in the 
 solitary field, that here had been the brunt of the battle, 
 and that we were riding across ground where Europe and 
 Asia first fairly met and tried their strength. It was 
 impossible to have seen the place under a better light ; one 
 which so well suited the strange, mysterious character of the 
 old victory, which, even to the Greeks themselves, had 
 
112 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS past 
 
 something in it of the supernatural. We were benighted on 
 the field, with the wind rising, and the sea breaking on the 
 beacli near us, where the Persian ships with Hippias had 
 moored. With some trouble, and amid the furious onslaught 
 of shepherds' dogs, we found our way, in the thick, dusky 
 evening, to the demarch's house at Marathona ; and here we 
 were very hospitably and civilly received by the Greek 
 family. The lady came in, after the first compliments had 
 passed, with a tray of sweetmeats and a glass of some sort of 
 liqueur, and offered it gracefully as a kind of welcome. 
 They are like the last demarch, plain, farmer sort of people, 
 who live chiefly in their kitchen, but they have a big room 
 besides, which has served for our dining-room, and will 
 serve for our bedroom. But I must prepare to make use 
 of it in this latter character. 
 
 Mabathona, IZih March. 
 I did my hosts injustice, for they gave me a room to 
 myself, and a very comfortable, though somewhat rude bed, 
 without fleas, which indeed I have not met with yet I 
 make myself at home, squat on a mat with the rest before 
 the kitchen fire, and smoke : and so I am treated with much 
 favour. To-day, instead of going on to Oropus, I have made 
 my headquarters here, and rode in the morning to Rhamnus, 
 and in the afternoon had a gallop over the field, and looked 
 at VranA, which is said to have been the ancient Marathon 
 (vide Leake). For Ehamnus I refer you to the same, or else 
 to Wordsworth. The temple of the awful goddess of the 
 Persian war vies with that of Athense of the Acropolis and of 
 Sunium, in the grandeur of its situation. It stood, a Doric 
 marble hexastyle like the Theseium, at the head of a steep 
 gorge, looking down over a fortified cape with waUs of huge 
 blocks of marble, which runs out from the ends of the 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 113 
 
 ravine, iipon the river-like Euboean Channel, down which 
 the Persian ships sailed to Marathon. And as Minerva at 
 Sunium seemed to place herself in front of her own land, 
 and on the Acropolis, to watch over her city, its denizen, its 
 champion, and unsullied object of worship — ttoAjcis, t/jo- 
 juaxos, TrapOevos — so on the other side of Attica those ships 
 who approached it, as they looked up from the water to the 
 white front of the temple of Nemesis, standing out against 
 its dark background of wood, and facing Asia, must have 
 been reminded of the power which had once protected 
 Athens so signally, and might have foreseen that the same 
 power, ^ OeSv fidXiara avd pdiTroii v/SpuTTais mra.paiTrjToi, 
 would one day punish her as signally. The temple was a 
 monument against themselves. 
 
 SoALA d'Oeopo, nth March. 
 I have been travelling all to-day. We left Marathona 
 by a very fine mountain-path, like all those which we have 
 passed, — one which would make an English horse open his 
 eyes wide, but which these horses step up and down with 
 the greatest possible coolness. This expedition has taught 
 me that there is no place, not absolutely perpendicular, up 
 and down which a horse will not go : sheets of slippery rock, 
 tracks of loose and broken stones, steps or sharp crags or 
 deep holes — it is all one to them : they walk coolly over 
 everything, at any angle at which a man could stand. I 
 have long ceased to be nervous, though our road to-day has 
 been up and down a succession of deep gorges, or along their 
 faces, looking down their steep sides. We have travelled 
 to-day through the Diacria, a country of ravines, some of 
 them very magnificent ones, cut deeply into the soft soil, 
 with a torrent-bed at the bottom, but with a want of wood, 
 owing to the perpetual burning which goes on here. 
 
 I 
 
114 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 Kapandriti, Kalamo, Marcopoulo, and this place, will give 
 you our route. Tlie Oropia is a flat plain along the sea, 
 reaching up from the Asopus to the wall of moorlands, 
 which are the ending of Attica proper. We had our first 
 rain to-day, hut it did not do us much harm ; but it will be a 
 bore if it keeps us here to-morrow.' The views of Eubcea and 
 the channel are very fine all along the road we have been to- 
 day. There is a great mountain just over against us behind 
 Eretria (Dirphys in ancient maps), of which we have not yet 
 seen the summit. It is not sketching weather, however, and 
 I am sorry to say that I have come away without anything 
 of Marathon, though there is at least one very striking view : 
 the great hill which overhangs the plain and battle-ground 
 to the south was tempting me all the time I was there ; 
 but it was too cold at the only times I could spare for 
 sketching. 
 
 Athens, 19th March. 
 
 The weather was so unpromising at Scala d'Oropo on 
 Monday morning, that we resolved to give up Mount Fames, 
 and get back to Athens as quick as we could. We came 
 through the same sort of moorland hills that we had passed 
 the day before, and through the pass between Pentelicus and 
 the lower ridges which connect it with Fames ; you will 
 find in Leake's map the pass of Katifori. It was a gusty, 
 showery day, and the snowstorms which covered Fames even 
 as low down as the peak of Deceleia showed that we had been 
 prudent. 
 
 We dined at a small village, Kapandriti, where we tried 
 for the first time a clay floor, and the company of horses and 
 fowls eating in the same room with ua. It was the house of 
 the chief magistrate, ■TrdpeSpos, he is called (i.e. deputy to the 
 demarch of the larger district). Tlie dignitary himself was 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 115 
 
 out at work, most honestly getting his bread. His house was 
 divided lengthways by two arches, shiny and black with 
 smoke, as were also the rafters of the roof which they sup- 
 ported, and in which was a hole for the smoke, and divers 
 accidental holes for the refrigeration and humefaction of the 
 inhabitants. Across ran a rail, on the one side the beasts in 
 the dark, — on the other, the human creatures, by the light 
 of the fire and doo», and the fowls were everywhere. When 
 we came in, the daughter was kneading bread, the mother 
 spinning and watching the pot on the fire, the children crying, 
 the husband of the daughter standing about doing nothing. 
 M. Vilaeti said that they were very good people, and that the 
 TrdpeSpo's never sent away a poor man or a traveller from his 
 door. We did not put them out much. Ghiorghi simply 
 put some wood on, and made a better fire, without saying 
 by your leave, and took possession of one side of it for his 
 cooking business, while the old lady went on with hers at 
 the other. A carpet was spread on the floor, and we squatted 
 down close to the fire, which was very acceptable that day, 
 and smoked till our dinner was ready to warm us better. 
 We dined very well, off a horse -sieve for a table; our 
 attendants and the son-in-law dining on a mess of rice next 
 to us,' and the ladies eating by snatches out of a pipkin, of 
 some kind of broth or pottage on the other side of the fire. 
 Our ride through the valley below Kapandriti, which ends 
 the highlands of North-Eastern Attica or Diacria, was pretty, 
 and the weather mended. The pass itself is striking, an 
 easy ascent winding up a red hill with pines, and between 
 deep banks of red earth, overhung with shrubs and trees ; 
 a place once, and I believe even now, famous for klephts, 
 "signorini" — or e/m-opoi as they are still called — whose 
 occasionally chivalrous way of doing business commanded 
 
116 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 a share even of M. Vilaeti's admiration. However, we saw 
 no more of them here than we had at Suniiim, and got home 
 without the smallest adventure to boast of 
 
 To C. M. Ohuech, Esq. 
 
 Athens, 8th April 1847. 
 I begin a letter, though I have not much to write that is 
 new since my last date. Easter here has 'been, as might be 
 expected, more noisy and hurried than is pleasant. But it 
 was a satisfaction on Easter Sunday to have some faces at 
 church which brought back St. Mary's early service and St. 
 Peter's-in-the-East, viz. Watson, and Mildmay of Merton, who 
 have been here all the week. The last week was observed 
 by the Greeks in a curious way ; — strict and severe fasting ; 
 long services very early in the morning and late at night ; 
 and in the middle of the day they were hurrying and bustling 
 about preparing for Easter, and the streets were full of stalls 
 decked out with evergreens and bad prints of the king and 
 queen, saints, and heroes of the war. I went to one or two 
 of their services, i.e. those at the Russian Church, where there 
 was less crowd. There seemed to be both more reverence 
 and attention and more levity than in an English congrega^ 
 tion. I don't profess to understand their way of behaving. 
 The sort of orderly inattention and stealthy gossip that goes 
 on with us you never see here. They are either attending 
 in earnest, or not pretending to attend at all ; and they seem 
 to pass abruptly, and without any hesitation or concealment, 
 from devotion to mutual salutations and smiles. This was 
 the case among the Russians, who all belong to the embassy ; 
 the Greeks proper, I should think, are much the same, except 
 that the service on the part of the clergy is more slovenly, 
 which it was not at all at the Russian Church. All Saturday 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 117 
 
 was devoted to killing lambs ; the shepherds came down 
 from the mountains with their flocks, and were to be seen 
 going about everywhere with their lambs on their shoulders 
 — just Overbeck's "Pastor Bonus" ; and at every corner of 
 the streets the butchering was going on in public, and one 
 was in danger of stepping into a stream of blood. Easter 
 begins at twelve o'clock on Saturday night with a great 
 service, at which the King and Queen are present (one being 
 a Roman Catholic, the other a Lutheran), and all Athens 
 crowds there, partly as a religious duty, partly for the 
 spectacle. After this is over (it lasts three hours), all return 
 home and begin eating roast lamb with a greediness which 
 is not creditable to the moral effect of their previous abstinence. 
 But, of course, there are two sides to all holiday-keeping. 
 Here they seem, most of them, to go half mad. Among 
 other things, they keep up all night and all day long a 
 never-ceasing fire from their guns and pistols, which has 
 slackened but not stopped yet ; and they think it no fun 
 unless they load with ball. This, as half of them are drunk, 
 interferes with the satisfaction of walking in the streets 
 or looking out of window. Then, yesterday, by way of 
 variety, they had a Jew riot. They have been accustomed 
 other years to burn a Jew in efSgy on Easter Sunday, which 
 the police stopped : so by way of making amends a mob of, 
 they say, between 2000 and 3000 (but H) collected and 
 attacked the house of one of the few Jews here ^ — pillaged, 
 gutted, and all but demolished it ; and were with difficulty 
 prevented from demolishing the unhappy Jew himself. This 
 is the disgusting side of their way of keeping Easter ; on the 
 
 ^ This was the noted Don Paoilico, an Ionian Jew, for whose 
 losses Lord Palmerston demanded redress from the Greek Government 
 in 1849. 
 
118 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 other hand, the extreme pre-eminence which they seem to 
 give it above aU other festivals, seems to me very striking. 
 It seems to be to them what Christmas is with uS' — the 
 household and family festival. They can't bear not to keep 
 it at home. The old salutation continues ; — Xpicrrbs dvea-Trj, 
 answered by dArjflus dvecnrj, is the regular form for forty 
 days ; and on Easter Day, when friends meet in the street, 
 it is exchanged with a kiss. The day reaUy seemed to bring 
 out all their friendliness, and several times the heartiness 
 and afifectionateness with which the kiss was given was very 
 pleasant ; it seemed to be done, too, with a kind of serious- 
 ness. However, I do not wish to spend another Easter here ; 
 though I have no reason to complain on the whole. Of 
 course we had full service in our chapel, and a new organ 
 which they have got out from England was opened yesterday. 
 
 Nauplia, ISth April 1847. 
 As I have some time to-day I send you a report from 
 here of so much of our Peloponnesian expedition. We 
 started from Piraeus last Friday night in a Greek boat of a 
 curious fashion, not very unlike in its hull to those paper 
 boats which are produced in some mysterious way by folding 
 and pulling out a square sheet of paper, which I remember 
 used to please me much in ancient times. There was a 
 small cabin at the stern, with a picture of St. George, and a 
 lamp burning ; but the fleas, who never hurt me, drove 
 Penrose out of it to lie on the ballast. The Piraeus has 
 four line-of-battle ships in it now, besides no end of brigs 
 and schooners. We left on a beautiful still night, music 
 playing, and lights glancing about on board our Albion, and 
 the echoes of the evening guns rolling and thundering among 
 the hills of Salamis. We were close to jEgina when I 
 
1 FOREIGN TRAVEL 119 
 
 crawled out of my den at four next morning, its cliffs and 
 peaks beginning to look tawny and brown in the grey of the 
 dawn. "We soon got on shore, and saw the sun rise on our 
 way to the temple — whether of Jupiter Panhellenius, or 
 Minerva. I don't know whether I don't like it better than 
 Sunium. The nearer scenery of jEgina itself is wilder than 
 that near Sunium, and though you have not the grand 
 precipice towering above the sea to stand on, you have sea 
 on each side of you, and the outlines of Qeraneia, Cithseron, 
 and those of the plain of Athens. But it is no use 
 describing, you won't be the wiser. When we had done 
 with the old grey limestone temple, we sailed round the 
 north of the island to the town, which is on the edge of a 
 flat plain, which lies like a sort of quay at the foot of the 
 mountain. Of the fierce and spirited little Dorian Athens 
 there remains a scathed Doric column of one of its temples, 
 and in the sea the ruined but still serviceable moles which 
 formed (I think) three square basins of considerable size. 
 Its houses now chiefly straggle in a long line along the quay, 
 and there were two brigs building. Opposite to it rises 
 a dark jagged volcanic peninsula, Methana, which looked 
 quite black and awful against a rather wild western sky, 
 and between it and a number of larger and smaller islands 
 appeared the hills of Epidaurus, whither we were bound. 
 We started again in the evening, but the wind was first 
 against us, and then dropped altogether. 
 
 All Sunday morning till eleven we were slowly creeping 
 along, but the sight was glorious all round ; the mountains 
 were all round us — ^behind, but in clear outline, Hymettus 
 and Pentelicus running on to those of the isthmus on our 
 right : in front we were gradually approaching those of 
 Epidaurus, magnificent fellows, running down with a steep 
 
120 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 slope into tlie sea, and with the sun full on them, and 
 bringing out all their features ; and the rest of the panorama 
 was completed hy the still more picturesque outlines of 
 Methana and jEgina, Our church was rather a low one 
 this Sunday, hetween the shingle ballast and the deck of our 
 boat, where we could only crouch down. Epidaurus, 
 however, we reached at last : nothing to see there but the 
 exceedingly beautiful site of the place. From here we 
 were to ride across to Nauplia, taking the sacred valley of 
 jEsculapius on the way ; so we exchanged our Greek boat 
 for Greek saddles, not a change to perfect bliss, but not so 
 intolerable as I expected. The road from the sea to the 
 valley is through a green glen between noble mountains. 
 The nightingales were in full song, and we got to the sacred 
 valley in high spirits. It is a curious place, an ancient 
 watering-place for idlers and invalids ; with remains, on an 
 equally magnificent scale, of a theatre, hospital, and baths ; 
 and the secluded valley itself having the look of a great 
 pleasure park, a sort of Easselas happy valley run to waste 
 and disorder. The theatre, which drove Pausanias into 
 raptures, is cut in the side of a liill facing the grey summit 
 of Mount Arachne, and gave him for the first time the idea 
 of what a Greek theatre must have been, at least in its 
 landscape, and in the crowds which it would hold. But a 
 theatre is a melancholy place, like a field of battle. 
 
 From the Hieron, a road, the broadest I have seen in 
 this country, leads through heath-like valleys, and over a 
 succession of low hills, to Nauplia. We were caught among 
 them, not by a storm, but by the evening, and as the gates 
 of Nauplia are shut at eight or nine, we did not know 
 which, we were in the comfortable state of wishing to ride 
 fast, and of having strongly impressed upon our minds, by 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 121 
 
 occasional stumbles, the great probability of getting our 
 necks broken, if we did. But at last our Greek servant 
 made up his mind, and, riding behind us, kept up a 
 continual bastinado on our horses and his own, and so we 
 proceeded for nearly an hour, jogging and jolting awfully 
 down hil], with the lights of Nauplia twinkling before us 
 with a most tantalising sameness of look, and seeing nothing 
 on each side of us but a black, huge, undefined outline, 
 which might be a bank or a plain. Just as we got to the 
 suburb, we heard the drums beating and a bell going in a 
 very shut-up sort of way, and just at this agonising moment, 
 our horses, mine at least, remembered some suburban stable, 
 and thought he might as well go there as elsewhere ; and as 
 we had nothing but halters to ride with, there was some 
 difficulty in persuading his ill-disposed mind to give up the 
 preposterous idea. Sure enough, when we got to the gates 
 they were shut. However, in consideration of our close 
 shave, and a Greek officer being late also, they let us in 
 without our horses ; and I shall never think of the gates of 
 Nauplia without lively sensations of satisfaction. A close 
 shave, in retrospect, is one of the most delightful of recol- 
 lections. 
 
 You would thinlc me wild if I went on to expatiate on 
 the plain of Argos. This is our third day at Nauplia, and 
 we are not tired yet. It is very different from that of 
 Athens. At Athens, though there is no luxuriance, and 
 there is the usual severity of a Greek landscape, there is a 
 grace and brightness which never fails. Here everything, 
 though strikingly beautiful, has a stern solemnity, even in 
 the bright mornings we have had here. The broad, flat, 
 tawny plain, spread out between the magnificent mountains, 
 much liigher all round and more massed together than those 
 
122 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 of Attica, — in one corner, tlie Larissa of Argos, like a huge 
 tumulus with the trees and houses of the city lying in lines 
 below it ; at the other, the red rocky Palamidi of Nauplia, 
 a great isolated cliff, on the top of which is perched a modern 
 fortress with its winding walls, a costly relic of the Venetian 
 conquests ; in the plain itself, among a number of island- 
 like hills and rocks, the low flattened ruined Acropolis of 
 Tiryns, half hidden behind a clump of white poj)lars ; at 
 the most distant edge of the plain, not Mycenae itself, for it 
 is hidden, but the grey hard mountains -which enclose and 
 overhang it ; and piercing into the plain, the thin blue line 
 of sea, unbroken, or broken only by a solitary boat, — make 
 up a picture which corresponds singularly with the stern 
 history which belongs to it. At Mycense this character is 
 exhibited in the highest degree. It lies between two great 
 bare mountains in a recess of the plain, on a ridge equally 
 bare and grey as the mountains, rising up to the citadel, 
 where it slopes down steep on one side, and, on the other, 
 is broken down into a sheer dark precipice. All is grey, 
 except the reddish lines of walls formed of enormous blocks 
 which run round most part of it. They are vast and rude 
 enough to be the walls of the heroes ; they crown the slopes 
 on one side, and hang over the deep precipice on the other. 
 The gate of the Lions is one of the most solemn spots I ever 
 was in. It faces the north, and is generally in shadow ; it 
 lies at the end of a sort of passage or court formed by the 
 huge walls to the right and left ; over it the strange-looking 
 animals stand out from their black slab of basalt as clear as 
 when they were first carved, and in its sides and threshold 
 are still visible the holes for the bars and bolts which 
 fastened its folding doors, and the ruts worn by the chariot 
 wheels which entered it. The whole scene is one of gaunt, 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 123 
 
 grim desolation. It does not so much recall Homer as 
 iEschylus. Argos with its peaked Larissa and grand theatre 
 hewn out of the rock, and facing the whole landscape of the 
 plain, is very Greek in its way, and the proud old churlish 
 Dorian democracy has left its character to its modern in- 
 habitants. To-morrow we start off again on our travels. 
 
 We cross the gulf to Astros, and then ride across to 
 Sparta — then to Kalamata, Ithome, Bassse, Olympia. The 
 rough work has to begin now ; hitherto it has been com- 
 paratively plain sailing. Henceforward we shall have to 
 sleep with the pigs. When I get back to Athens I shall 
 settle about my future movements. 
 
 Kalamata, 20th April 1847. 
 
 I wrote to you from Nauplia five days ago, not expecting 
 to have another opportunity of writing so soon ; but a wet 
 day has curtailed our travelling. We have done a great 
 deal since then. We started by water from Nauplia on 
 Thursday to Astros (in the Thyreatis), where we had settled 
 to meet our horses and muleteers from Argos. We arrived, 
 admired, and waited for many hours, but no muleteers came, 
 and our combinations for the day were cruelly spoilt. At 
 last, just as we had given them up in despair, and had 
 resolved on proceeding on foot to a monastery near, they 
 made their appearance, coolly made no sort of excuse, but 
 trusted to our necessity (since there was but one horse in 
 Astros to be hired) to plead in their favour. We and our 
 servant scolded, but were glad enough to get them. 
 
 We spent the night in the said monastery — a beautiful 
 spot among the mountains, reached by a road over the plain 
 of Astros, which that evening gave us some of the most 
 beautiful views that I ever saw ; a rich plain illuminated by 
 
124 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 tlie evening sun, the headland and peninsula of Astros, the 
 Gulf of Argolis, and the grand mountain of Arachne &lling 
 into the hills of Epidaurus, and faced hy a lower line of 
 cliffs in front : aU this seen out of a deep wooded gorge, full 
 of rich greens and browns, kept down and mellowed, but 
 not yet darkened, by the shadows of the overhanging 
 mountains. The monastery lies out of the beaten track. 
 The monks received us with all hospitality, and though it 
 must be said that the fleas were equally glad to see us and 
 attentive, we passed a night there which we have several 
 times looked back to with much longing. The people 
 seemed a nicer set than those that I had seen in Attica. 
 Their employments are chiefly agricultural, though they 
 have some books. At two hours before dawn their big bell 
 echoes through the valleys, and they get up to prayers ; and 
 they have service also in the afternoon. I can't teU you 
 more now of our route from there to Sparta, than that we 
 passed by Agios Petros, Arachova and Vourlia, and got to 
 Sparta the middle of the second day. Our first view of 
 Taygetus was very imposing. It is a long ridge ending 
 towards the south in huge snowy peaks. We have had him 
 before our eyes in one shape and another for four days, and 
 have made up our minds that he is worth coming to Greece 
 to see. 
 
 . . . We spent a few hours at Sparta, the evening and 
 night at Mistra, came right through the mountain yesterday 
 from Mistra to a village called Lada, and to-day, through 
 continued rain, the first I have seen in Greece, to this place, 
 where the English consul, a Greek, receives us. Sparta, 
 where a new town has been built, and is being forced by the 
 modern system, which tries to revive old names and associa- 
 tions, is striking from its desolation. The quantity of tiles 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 125 
 
 and brick, and fragments of walls, show where a great city 
 has been, but all that can be identified with the Sparta of 
 the Peloponnesian war is Taygetus and the Eurotas. The 
 river still flows, a shallow stream, now a little broader than 
 the Oherwell, in the midst of a wide gravelly bed, where it 
 expatiates in winter. On one side run a range of low, 
 round, red hiUs, on the other a gradation of flattened 
 heights, like platforms, low cliffs to the river, and smoothed 
 away into the vale of Sparta. Here stood the city, and 
 two or three miles across the plain Taygetus rises straight 
 out of it. The look of tlje mountain is very remarkable ; a 
 series of hills from 1000 to 6000 feet, separated by deep 
 dark gorges, seem to have been ciit clean down from top to 
 bottom with a singular evenness, so as to present a succes- 
 sion of high clifi's, each the section of a hiU, of which the 
 rounded top rises above it. These hills are like outworks to 
 the main mass of the mountain, which rises magnificently 
 behind into snowy peaks, the last and highest of which falls 
 steep down for a long way, and thus isolates the mountain. 
 Like other Greek mountains, it springs sheer, and by itself, 
 from the plain, and you have the whole height at once 
 before you. It certainly far exceeded even what I had 
 expected. 
 
 We stopped the night at Mistra. It is on a great rock, 
 which is detached from the mass of Taygetus by magnificent 
 gorges. At the foot of the hill is the modern town, and on 
 the side the ruins of a Frank town, built by some of the 
 crusading gentlemen who thought it better worth their while 
 to conquer the Morea than the Holy Sepulchre. (I shall 
 find out the name when I get to Athens.) These ruins are 
 of great extent, and the walls of the houses, and of a church 
 and palace, which reminded one of the West, are little 
 
126 DEAN CHUKCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 injured. I shall have much to tell you of our host, a sort 
 of laird or feudal chief, with his tail of forty hangers-on, and 
 poor relations, living daily at his expense. But the grandest 
 thing we have had yet was the road from Mistra to this 
 place. It is the direct tract through Taygetus, and is looked 
 upon as rather formidable. Most people go by Londari and 
 turn the mountain. We took our horses with us, but we 
 had to walk more than nine-tenths of the way ; and, as it 
 was, I cannot understand how our horses did not break their 
 legs fifty times over. Even the Greeks call it a bad road, 
 and not fit for horses. But I never saw anything grander 
 than the pass for the greater part of the way. I know little 
 about mountain scenery, but Penrose, who knows the Apen- 
 nines well, and also the Swiss passes, was enthusiastic in his 
 admiration, and thought that the pass would quite bear com- 
 parison with the latter. I am surprised that so little is said 
 of it. The difiiculty of the road, which is very considerable, 
 and the fear of klephts, which is not altogether unfounded, 
 but a good deal greater than necessary, has, I suppose, 
 kept travellers out of it ; but no one can say he has seen 
 Greece without seeing this; It ought to be done on foot, 
 with a mule carrying luggage, and not with horses, as we did 
 it. They kept us back, and we could not mount them. It 
 can also be done on mule-back. Our Mistra host sent his 
 na/me to a village on the road, which produced a guard of 
 five wild fellows, who scam^Dered about the rocks, and fired 
 off their long guns, as if they were mad. I have not time 
 to write more now. We are just starting for Ithome. We 
 hope to be at Athens in about ten days. Our lodgings have 
 sometimes been quaint enough. Here we are in the consul's 
 house, an Ionian Greek. 
 
I JFOKEIGN TKAYEL 127 
 
 To Frederic Rogers, Esq. 
 
 1th May. 
 
 My expedition into Peloponnesus has been very satis- 
 factory — only, we were robbed. We were riding up tbe 
 mountain side of a beautiful lake — that of Phonia, under 
 Cyllene, admiring it as it deserves, when three or four pro- 
 UgA of Mercury astonished us by starting out of the wood by 
 the roadside, and levelling their long guns at us, with orders 
 to surrender at once and dismount. 
 
 We had an escort, the beat we could get, by means of a 
 very large and positive order, signed by the Minister M. 
 Coletti, viz. an asthmatic peasant, with a very rickety old 
 gun. Our escort did not think twice about the matter, but 
 wisely laid down his gun ; and as we had no weapons but 
 what nature had given us to oppose three or four guns and 
 pistols and Turkish scimitars (except some stones which 
 Penrose always carried to fight dogs with), we dismounted, 
 and submitted to be marched up a ravine, where, when we 
 were out of sight of the road, the enemy took possession of 
 watches, purses, knives, and everything, in short, of metal ; 
 and tied our arms, and left us to examine our luggage which 
 they puUed about unceremoniously, and from which they 
 abstracted about ten pounds sterling, in money, and some 
 small things. They left us under orders not to move till 
 they should come to unloose us in the evening ; but they 
 had tied us so loosely that we coiild easily free ourselves, 
 which, after waiting for some time, we did, though our 
 muleteer and escort were extremely alarmed, and wished us 
 to remain. But of course we saw nothing more of them, and 
 finished the remaining few days of our journey — they had 
 luckily visited us at the end and not the beginning — without 
 any trouble, except that of having to beg now and then. 
 
128 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 wMct was not pleasant. The rest of our journey was, but 
 for the weather now and then, very pleasant. 
 
 To C. M. Church, Esq. 
 
 Athens, 6A May 1847. 
 
 I got back this morning from the Morea, after nearly a 
 month's wandering. ... In spite of the robbers, and some 
 very bad weather, the expedition has been a very pleasant 
 one, and has fully repaid a good deal of roughing ; and I 
 shall, for- the future, exult considerably over people who do 
 not venture there. I think I dilated before on the stern 
 grandeur of the plain of Argos, and the magnificence of Tay- 
 getus and the plain of Sparta. Nothing can beat Taygetus, 
 but some things which we have seen in Arcadia and Messenia 
 are quite as striking in their way. 
 
 I don't wonder at the Spartans coveting the plain of Mes- 
 senia. It lies spread out in most tempting richness under 
 the western spiirs of the long range of Taygetus ; one can 
 almost fancy the hungry invaders seated like wolves on the 
 grim grey rocks which fall abruptly into vineyards and corn- 
 fields, and devising schemes for getting possession of the rich 
 prize with ingenuity and patience, which nothing could beat. 
 Opposite to the great Spartan mountain, with his peaks and 
 snows, rises on the other side of the plain Mount Ithome, 
 standing out separate from the ridges behind it, conspicuous 
 and distinct in every part of the plain, especially from the 
 north, where it rises in the shape of an altar, with flat sum- 
 mit and rapid sides, but without the look of isolation which 
 a mountain has which rises in the middle of a plain. Ithome, 
 standing on the edge of the plain, and backed by other moun- 
 tains which appear to support it, without taking away from 
 
I FOKEIGTf TRAVEL 129 
 
 its separate importance, rivals in dignity even the giant 
 mountain which towers far above it. It is one of the most 
 striking sites I ever saw — a place made for a history. 
 
 I shall remember Ithome for many things : for itself, for 
 the view from it, for the magnificent walls and gateway of 
 Messene under it (one of Epaminondas' bridles for Sparta — 
 Megalopolis was the other), for a desperate scramble down 
 its sides, and for a complete drenching which we got beneath 
 its shadow. From Ithome we made our way across the upper 
 Messenian plain, Stenyclarus, across the mountains and the 
 valley of the Neda (very beautiful) to Andritzena, a curious 
 place, consisting of four distinct villages — as, I think, they 
 say that Sparta was built — where we were to have our head- 
 quarters, while Penrose worked on the temple at Bassoe. We 
 were there four days, but the weather would not let us do 
 anything but look at the ruin, and shiver while Penrose was 
 at work at the temple. I was to have gone to Olympia, but 
 I had to give it up. The distant view of the country was 
 striking from Andritzena, a foreground of mountainous 
 broken country, then a long even line, like a long bank, 
 marking the valley of the Alpheus, backed at first by the 
 snowy mountains of Olonos, and afterwards running out 
 sharp against the sky, with one very distant ridge in 
 Northern Greece coming up above it as above a sea-line. 
 We made our way straight through Arcadia from Andritzena 
 to Kalavryta by Karitena, Dimitzana, and the site of Clitor 
 — all extremely beautiful country. We had got into the 
 land of waters and springs ever since crossing Pamon and 
 coming down into the valley of the Eurotas ; but here the 
 streams were delicious. I never saw anything so beautiful 
 in the way of running water afe a spring which we came 
 upon one fine evening, near Karitena : the source gushing 
 
 E 
 
130 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paut 
 
 out full and strong under some tuge rocks at tlie head of a 
 valley, under tlie shade of noble plane-trees ; beyond tbem, 
 and seen through them, were grassy slopes lit up by the sun ; 
 and then the mountains rose at once, closing the head of the 
 valley, covered a long way up with woods of the richest 
 brown and green, with the top of Lycseus looting over them. 
 The gorges of the Alpheus at Karitena, and of the Gortynius 
 between Karitena and Dimitzana, must be of the finest order 
 of scenery, both for outline, colour, and scale. They have 
 their traditions, like most of the passes in Greece, of the 
 days of Braimi, as they call Ibrahim Pasha, and the cliffs 
 of the Gortynius are hung with monasteries, built apparently 
 against their sides, which, in the war, were turned into 
 fastnesses. The great monastery of Megaspelion, near 
 Kalavryta, is one of these strange sort of buildings : a great 
 cavern has been built up with a wall of great thickness, 
 varying from four to eight or nine storeys, so that the 
 monastery seems applied and fastened to the face of the 
 perpendicular rock. At Megaspelion the rock and buildings 
 are both on a very large scale ; and a long way down below 
 the monastery there are terraces of gardens, with here and 
 there a tall black cypress, which are very beautiful. From 
 Kalavryta our line was by the valley of the Styx, the lake of 
 Phonid, plain of Stymphalus, Nemea, and on to Corinth. 
 The valley of the Styx was suggested by some talk , of 
 Stanley's, who, I remember, once spoke of it as a place that 
 he wished to see. It is a remarkable place. We travelled 
 from Kalavryta over a very high mountain plain, where the 
 snow was stiU lying about in patches, and the crocuses were 
 just flowering and pushing themselves through the snow. A 
 line of stone pillars, surmoitnted -by wooden crosses, marked 
 the road along this plain, which in winter, in the deep snow, 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 131 
 
 is a perilous place ; it had still a most dreary and wintry 
 look even when we crossed. When we reached the last of 
 these pillars the view was one of the strangest I ever saw ; 
 it quite took away my breath for a moment. At the brink 
 of the plain the mountain Bides broke down abruptly to a 
 great depth, and there lay before us a dark deep circular 
 valley, made of the bare grey limestone precipices of Mount 
 Khelmos, with a strange looking smooth mountain, of a kind 
 of ghastly yellow, in the middle of it. The Styx lay some 
 distance off at the head of the valley, and we scrambled 
 away, with a guide, to get to it. It is a mineral 'spring, 
 which falls down a face of rock, high up on the side of one 
 of the loftiest and most precipitous summits of Khelmos. 
 When we saw it, it was mixed probably with snow water, 
 and fell in a stream which appeared to us to vary in quantity 
 from time to time ; but in summer it merely trickles down 
 the rock, which is discoloured on each side of it. The rock 
 looks as if eaten away or poisoned by it. The scene is 
 certainly as sombre and awful as the Styx ought to be, 
 though very different from what I had expected. The vast 
 height of the bare dark mountain, and the vast height at 
 which the water is seen issuing from its side, form a very 
 strange, mysterious scene ; and all round there is the same 
 gloom about the grey precipices, and black fir-trees, thrown 
 out by patches of snow, and the mountain torrent below, 
 which complete the picture. I can quite fancy it impressing 
 strongly the imagination of the wild madman Cleomenes, if 
 it is to this that Herodotus alludes (vi. 74). After the Styx 
 came the beautiful lake of Phonid, and that of Stymphalus, 
 which, as a lake, is at present a failure, though it would be 
 very fine as a full lake or a completely dry plain. On the 
 borders of the lake of Phonid, just beyond a place marked in 
 
132 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 Leake's map, Tricrena, we had our interview with, the robbers. 
 Penrose attributes our misfortune to the anger of Mercury, 
 whose mountain Cyllene, on the side of which it happened, 
 we had just been abusing, and had also been laughing at his 
 being washed, as Pausanias says he was, after he was bom, 
 in the " Three fountains," Tricrena. 
 
 This is a poor account of our proceedings, but I am writ- 
 ing in a hurry, to save the post. 
 
 ... I shall pass Cholderton with great regret. If I had 
 been in England, I dare say I should have gone there, for I 
 want to get to something less desultory than my present 
 college life. But I should not do so without talking the 
 matter over, and there is no time for that now. 
 
 To HIS Stepsister Miss Orok4.t. 
 
 Constantinople, 25th May 1847. 
 I believe I am in your debt, so you must be receiver of 
 news for my friends in general this time. I have come up 
 here because I found that a great piece of work was made 
 about my travelling in Greece; there were elections going 
 on, and part of the electioneering business is carried on, so 
 they say, by the klephts, — who might mistake me for a 
 Greek elector, and canvass me. A good deal of this is 
 political talk, I think, but after having been caught once, I 
 am not so well able to argue against it.. So here I am, out- 
 side Christendom for the first time in my life, seeing with 
 my own eyes people prostrating themselves towards Mecca, 
 and crying out from the minarets. This, of course, forces 
 itself upon you ; you can satisfy yourself as much as you 
 please that you are a unit among tens of thousands of 
 unbelievers ; but I am twenty years too late for Constanti- 
 nople. The barbaric state and ancient caprice and extrava- 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 133 
 
 gance of Eastern power have given way to a semi-European 
 regularity and decorum ;• they don't cut off Pachas' heads 
 now for a whim, and stick them up at the gate of the 
 Seraglio ; there is a sort of respectable ministry, and I don't 
 believe that there is any danger of their being strangled, 
 should they be turned out. The troops, even the cavalry, 
 alas ! are all like awkward Prussian or French soldiers, 
 except that they have red caps ; and veritable peelers, blue 
 policemen, though without glazed hats, keep the peace in the 
 streets of Constantinople. Imagine, as we were coming up 
 the Sea of Marmora, straining our eyes for a first sight of 
 Santa Sophia, the first objects which presented themselves 
 were two or three taU factory chimneys of the perfect 
 Birmingham or London breed, streaming away with black 
 coal smoke, just as if they were comfortably doing their 
 business at home instead of on the Bosphorus. Nothing of 
 the kind, steam-driven flourmill or sawmill, has ventured yet 
 into Greece. Another strange sight occurred as I rowed up 
 the Golden Horn yesterday to the Sweet Waters. We passed 
 a meadow where the horses of part of the Sultan's cavalry 
 were turned out to grass ; the men were with them, and 
 their green tents pitched by the water-side. It was about 
 four o'clock when I passed, and about 150 of the men were 
 performing their devotions, drawn up in regular line with 
 their faces turned towards Mecca, and their backs to the 
 river, rising, bowing, and prostrating themselves, all at the 
 same moment. If they had been in turbans and loose 
 trousers the sight would have been natural enough ; but 
 they were all in cavalry foraging jackets and white European 
 military trousers, and this gave an indescribable anomaly and 
 grotesqueness to the whole scene; it looked like a very 
 queer sort of military exercise. 
 
134 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 However, in spite of tlie barbarisms of the West, there is 
 still something to see here which is primitive and Turkish — ■ 
 the basking, masterless dogs (" sono tutti liberi i card qui," 
 said my guide) who sleep about the streets by day, and prowl 
 and scavenger by night ; the black, solemn cemeteries with 
 their cypresses and scattered turbaned stones, and the veiled 
 women, looking like the Misericordia in Italy. Nor have 
 the truculent turban and beard, and stately bagging trousers, 
 disappeared, except among the employes of Government and 
 the respectable gentlemen. Fires, too, that very character- 
 istic feature of Constantinople, have not ceased to be frequent, 
 and, though I have only been twenty-four hours here, I have 
 already heard the fire- watch going his rounds, and beating with 
 a stick on the ground, or at the doors of the houses, while 
 he gives notice of a fire. And in the course of time, no 
 doubt, I shall see a little more ; I have not yet been into the 
 genuine Turkish quarter. 
 
 They have begun to use horse carriages, and very properly 
 have begun at the beginning. Not like the hasty Greeks of 
 Athens, who have built on the model of the modern German 
 calesse or French cabriolet ; the Turkish coaohbuilders have 
 drawn their ideas, if not from the very earliest era of coach- 
 building, at least from the venerable days when the Lord 
 Mayor's coach was a new-fangled invention. The form is of 
 unexceptionable seventeenth - century shape ; and gilding 
 outside and plain boards within give the coach its due 
 grandeur and discomfort. Besides these, which I should 
 think are parts of the European civilisation which has begun 
 to invade ancient Turkey, there are other conveyances, covered 
 waggons drawn by oxen, of untainted Eastern fashion. It 
 was a fine sight yesterday (Whit-Monday, a great holiday 
 with the Christian population, and with the Jews in con- 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 135 
 
 sequence, because they can make holiday under shelter of 
 the Greeks and Armenians, without being snubbed by 
 the Turks ; so at least I was told) to see these arabis rolling 
 sonorously along the road to the Sweet Waters, — the Eich- 
 mond or Greenwich Park of Constantinople, — their grave 
 dun oxen stepping along as majestically as if they were 
 human Turks, each with an elastic arch of fringe and tassels 
 of red and gold, rising and shaking over their backs (being 
 fastened in front to the yoke and behind to their tails), the 
 ponderous waggon itself stuffed with cushions, and fat Greek 
 women, or sometimes smoking Greek men, — who had to 
 descend from their vehicle by steps like those of the old 
 coaching days in England, by which outside passengers, 
 especially if they were lady passengers, came down so tremu- 
 lously by help of the gallantry of coachmen and ostlers. 
 The Sweet Waters were pretty yesterday. The banks of the 
 , stream are shaded by fine trees, and spread into narrow 
 green meadows between low hills ; and under the trees were 
 numerous parties " performing picnic," as my guide accurately 
 expressed it, squatted on mats and carpets on the river-side, 
 half- veiled Armenians, and crested Jewesses, and bare-headed 
 or French bonneted Greeks, with a due proportion of boys 
 and men of less characteristic dress, a few Turks smoking or 
 lazily fishing, singers and guitar-players making a noise not 
 unpleasant at a distance, a company of Bulgarians offering to 
 dance to their bagpipes, and some gipsies and sellers of refresh- 
 ments, one of whom earnestly recommended to my notice, as 
 a genuine antique, a well-worn French sou of the Republic. 
 These Sweet Waters are very famous, and were one of the 
 scenes of Constantinople which I expected a great deal from : 
 perhaps because I was by myself, I did not think them more 
 than I have said, pretty, in their way. 
 
136 DEAN church's LIFK AND LETTERS part 
 
 26ft May. — I am under the hard necessity of lionising by 
 myself nnder the pilotage of a valet-de-place ; and so I lionise 
 rather in the sulks, feeling all the time that I am seeing 
 only the outside of things, — ^the valetian mind not being 
 accustomed to anything else, and not comprehending any 
 questions of an abstruse kind. For instance, I followed the 
 travelling world yesterday to see the dancing dervishes. These 
 people assemble in an octagonal room, in their high white 
 felt caps and clokes of blue and brown, and after perform- 
 ing their devotions for the hour of the day, all in silence, 
 threw off their clokes, and after walking three times in 
 procession round the room, began spinning round and round 
 with arms extended, and eyes half closed, to a monotonous 
 chant, accompanied with drum and pipe, and going on with 
 this exercise, never showing the least sign of giddiness or 
 even touching one another with their extended arms, for 
 nearly a quarter of an hour, beginning again after a short 
 interval — their long petticoats flying out in the shape of a 
 bell or cone round them. It is a strange sight to see, but 
 anything beyond the sight I find very difficult to get at ; and 
 why the dervishes spin round with such great solemnity and 
 apparent religious abstraction and devotion, I have not been 
 able to find out. There are others who, instead of dancing, 
 howl, i.e. repeat the profession of faith in a wild yell, for an 
 hour together, but this is not so strange to me as the dancing, 
 which realised to me the rites of ancient heathenism more 
 than anything I expected to find among Mussulmen. 
 
 Yesterday I crossed over into Constantinople proper, the 
 south side of the Golden Horn. The bridge, a broad wooden 
 one, across the Horn, strange to say, strongly suggested 
 London Bridge ; what produced this effect was, not so much 
 the broad stream, lined on each bank first with innumerable 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 137 
 
 masts, and beyond them witli innumerable houses, both 
 above and below the bridge — as the number of steamers, 
 big and little, getting their steam up or on the move, just as 
 you see them at London Bridge. They are nearly all of 
 them Turkish steamers (engineered by Englishmen), with 
 their names written in aU the twisting intricacy of Arabic 
 letters. Such is another of the queer contrasts of this 
 place — steamers sending their black smoke among the thick 
 trees and sacred mansions of the very Seraglio. 
 
 The interior of Constantinople has been calumniated, at 
 least the part that I was through yesterday. There is 
 nothing fine about the streets certainly, but neither are they 
 so mean, or so filthy, or so ill-paved, as I expected to find 
 them — far more respectable than Athens, newly built under 
 the auspices of enlightened Bavarians from classical Munich. 
 There are still a few remains which recall the city of the 
 Greek Emperors ; — huge cisterns with roofs of brick sup- 
 ported by rows of columns, all underground, and now used 
 by silk and thread spinners from Trebizond ; the site of the 
 Hippodrome with two obelisks still bearing the pompous 
 inscriptions cut into their bases by the Greek Emperors, and 
 with another monument of still greater interest, if it is what 
 it is said to be, the triple brazen serpent which supported 
 the ofl'ering made by the Greeks at Delphi, from the Persian 
 spoils after the battle of Plataea ; and the old walls of the 
 city, which are said to be, in a great measure, those of 
 Constantine. Effete and miserable as that old Greek 
 Empire was in its policy and doings, it was not without 
 its romance and magnificence, and it is satisfactory to find 
 any vestiges of it ; for, on the whole, the Turkish city has 
 entirely overrun and trodden out the old Greek city. Many 
 of the mosques were Christian churches ; but the minarets 
 
138 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 so entirely give tliem a Mahomedan character, that even 
 Santa Sophia does not suggest the notion of its ever having 
 been the great cathedral of the East. I was not so much 
 struck by the mosq^ues in Constantinople as by the tombs of 
 the Sultans. As you go along the streets you come every 
 now and then to a marble octagon, with large windows 
 glazed and with ornamental bars. Behind is generally a 
 garden. You can look into the room from the street, and 
 yoii see in the centre a high tomb covered with a rich paU, 
 with a turban or red cap placed at the head, and around 
 the principal tomb a number of lower ones, some with 
 turbans on them and some without — the sons and daughters 
 of the Sultan who lie around him. Attached to these tombs 
 is generally another marble building of the same sort, en- 
 closing a fountain ; and in the windows are placed rows of 
 brazen cups with water, for the benefit of passers-by; and 
 from some of them soup and bread are served out to the 
 poor twice a day. Yesterday we passed three of these 
 tombs : they do not give you the notion of tombs so much 
 as halls where the dead Sultans lie in state perpetually. 
 
 To 0. M. Church, Esq. 
 
 Constantinople, 1st June 1847. 
 You owe this letter to a cold, which keeps me in my 
 room, and has prevented me from starting this morning to 
 Brusa, which I particularly wished to see, and which now I 
 fear I shall not see. I went last Saturday to spend Sunday 
 with a friend of the General's, a German officer, who, after 
 having fought against the Turks in Greece with the General, 
 and against the Carlists in Spain with General Evans, went 
 and fought with the Turks in Syria against Ibrahim Pacha, 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 139 
 
 and has ended in a Christian Pacha of two tails, enjoying 
 himself on a handsome salary, in a pretty village on the 
 Bosphorus. You see I come across strange cattle now and 
 then. ... 
 
 The village where I stopped is one of the prettiest points 
 — a long row of quaint-looking, wooden houses, sweeping 
 round a bay backed by hills covered with gardens and trees, 
 the bright rich greens of spring mixed with the perpetual 
 black of the cypress. The immense quantity of shipping 
 passing up and down, anchoring or setting sail in the bay, 
 as the wind changes about, gives great liveliness to the place. 
 I spent Trinity Sunday morning there quietly and pleasantly, 
 living at the hotel, and dining with the German Pacha. In 
 the afternoon we had a gallop round the neighbourhood to 
 get a view of the Black Sea. I had the satisfaction of seeing 
 it fiercely black. There was a pitchy, solid thunder-cloud 
 all round the horizon to seaward, and, under its shadow, the 
 old sea looked as terrible and stormy as could be wished. 
 The rain overtook us in a pine forest, in which are the 
 reservoirs of water which supply Constantinople, imperial 
 works in their way, valleys dammed up, and made into 
 small lakes by great marble dams built across them, from 
 which the water is carried underground, or across aqueducts 
 for some 17 or 18 miles. The price of our very pleasant 
 ride was a good soaking, for which I was not in the least 
 prepared, and it has left me with the cold which, as I said, 
 has produced this letter, and prevented my expedition to 
 Brusa. . . . 
 
 We returned in regular Gravesend fashion early in the 
 morning by steamer to Constantinople, and had a dull, hard 
 day's work of sight- seeing, the first unmitigated treadmill 
 day that I have had since I have been out. But to see the 
 
140 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 Seraglio and the mosques, it is necessary, or, at least, highly 
 expedient to get a firman, which costs a good deal of money, 
 and so people club together and make up a party. We 
 were twenty-seven, and, of course, had to proceed by word 
 of command and forced marches. It was unsatisfactory 
 work, for there was no one who knew much aboiit what we 
 were seeing, as far as the history of it went. We were 
 shown first over parts of the Seraglio — I suppose what 
 answer to State apartments — large matted rooms, for a 
 palace coarsely decorated (infer alia, with rat-traps for the 
 rats who come to feed on the mattresses}, marble bathing- 
 rooms, and long galleries adorned merely with coloured 
 French prints of the meanest kind — the only striking thing 
 being some of the ceilings, if they had been in good order. 
 Then the gardens, regular and shabby ; then the stables ; 
 and then (what was characteristic, and would have been 
 interesting if explained} the older courts and gates and 
 reception-rooms of the palace ; a queer old library standing 
 in the middle of a sort of cloister, about which lounged a lot 
 of lazy pages of the Sultan ; the old great throne-room, a 
 dark solemn chamber, not very large, with iron -grated 
 windows, and walls inlaid with rich porcelain and, I think, 
 marble; and with the throne — a great four-post bedstead, 
 with silver-gilt posts adorned with jewels true and false, in one 
 corner underneath which the old Selims and Soleymans and 
 Murads used to squat when they gave audience — and finally, 
 the great gate of the Seraglio, which used to be adorned with 
 the heads of disobedient or unlucky Viziers and Pachas. The 
 armoury has some curious relics — the mace of Mahomed II., 
 and, among a variety of terrible-looking sword blades, the 
 broad, straight, two-edged sword of Eyoub (or Job), the 
 standard-bearer of the Prophet. Then we were marched 
 
I FOEEIGN TRAVEL 141 
 
 over the three great mosques, Aia Sophia, that of Sultan 
 Achmet, and that of Sultan Soleyman the Magnificent, and 
 also over a smaller one, together with the mausoleums of 
 Achmet, Soleyman, and the late Sultan. You can find all 
 these described in books, and I shall not trouble myself with 
 them. It is curious how the Mussulmen have copied, as far 
 as I saw, absolutely, the Christian type which they found 
 here, S. Sophia. In one instance they have struck out a 
 noble building, the mosque of Soleyman — lighter and more 
 symmetrical than the original, but though nearly as large, 
 without the imposing vastness which Aia Sophia certainly 
 has inside. Aia Sophia is under repair, but still its great- 
 ness is visible : the effect of it and of the mosques is of an 
 enormous court covered in, and surrounded with cloisters 
 and galleries. Your eye is not carried up to the roo:^ and 
 even the mosaic-covered dome of S. Sophia is not of that 
 importance in the general effect that I should have expected. 
 The mosques are matted and quiet and kept clean ; lighted, 
 when necessary, with wide circles — concentric, I think — of 
 small oil lamps intermingled with ostrich eggs and tinsel. 
 We had the choice of taking off our shoes, or putting slippers 
 over them. The Turks looked disgusted at our being 
 allowed to poke about at our pleasure, but did not say any- 
 thing to us : those at their devotions went on without 
 taking notice, those who had finished gathered round and 
 looked at us, or scowled at a distance. The boys ran about 
 without much ceremony, and offered bits of the mosaic of 
 S. Sophia for sale, and in one or two there were pigeons 
 flying about. . . . 
 
 As far as sight-seeing goes I have been doing my duty. 
 I think, perhaps, the most interesting business I have done 
 in that way was a perambulation and pemavigation of the 
 
142 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 walla. They are, I believe, in the main, the work of the 
 Byzantine emperors, in some few places repaired, but in 
 most left to crumble, by the Turks. A paved road follows 
 their line towards the land. There was a triple line of 
 them, with a ditch, which now supplies Constantinople with 
 vegetables, and the road for a long way is flanked towards 
 the country with a thick cypress grove with tombs. They 
 are, at least, remains of the old Christian city, and have 
 looked strange enemies in the face. I wish for a Gibbon 
 twenty times a day. I think that Constantinople will be 
 very great in remembrance. I rather feel conscious that there 
 is something strangely striking and grand before my eyes 
 every time that I get a sight of it, and yet that I do not 
 acknowledge really its grandeur to myself, as I was struck 
 in Greece with Athens and Taygetus. 
 
 To Febderic Rogbes, Esq. 
 
 Constantinople, ith June. 
 I can hardly tell you what I feel about^this strange 
 place ; a queer mixture of feelings, the general effect of 
 which at present is disagreeable, tending towards disgust. 
 In the first place, the place itself is undoubtedly very grand. 
 I don't know that it is what I should call beauty that strikes 
 me in the views I have had of it, so much as the imperial 
 magnificence of its position and appearance ; the spread of 
 the city and its suburbs in all directions, over the swell of 
 the hills, and along their summits, and along the shore of 
 the sea wherever you look ; its apparently endless extent, 
 with the great quantity of it which can be seen at once ; 
 the profusion of verdure within it, bright greens, set off by 
 the black cypress groves of the cemeteries ; and the majestic 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 143 
 
 outline of the main city, produced very much by some three 
 or four great mosques, with their minarets and great low 
 domes, which crown the highest point of ground in it. Then 
 there is the sea all round, and in various shapes — a magni- 
 ficent port in the Golden Horn — a broad winding river in 
 the Bosphorus — and again, with its islands and capes, and 
 open horizon, the Sea of Marmora, covered with ships of all 
 sizes, and showing the greatest variety of flags I have ever 
 seen. In its beauty I think I was disappointed ; but not 
 in its grandeur. Then, when you get into it, there is still 
 plenty of Oriental life to be seen ; there are crowds, partly in 
 a state of the most perfect quiescence and meditative repose, 
 partly in a state of violent action — pushing, jostling, and 
 especially screaming and yelling, with confounding energy; 
 there are veiled women, shovelling and sliding along in their 
 yellow boots ; there are turbans, and kalpacs, and fezzes ; 
 there is also the great estate of the dogs, the free and inde- 
 pendent dogs, who never get out of the way for man or horse. 
 But, as you know, the Turks have been Europeanised of late, 
 and there is a stupid mongrel air about these crowds ; and 
 with the exception of some old-fashioned, grave, proud-look- 
 ing, green and white turbans, who disdain to show their 
 remarkably ugly legs in tight white pantaloons and straps, 
 the Turks look like people who hardly know whether they 
 are standing on their heads or their heels, and this, I believe, 
 is pretty much the case with them. They seem to me like 
 people who are put out of their way and don't know how to 
 behave themselves, as if Stamboul was transported bodily 
 into Regent Street or the Rue de Rivoli, and they feel in 
 their own city the sort of awkwardness and soggezione that 
 they would feel in the West. One used to think that a 
 Turkish gentleman was, under all circumstances, the very 
 
144 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 model of qtdet, grave dignity ; those that I have fallen, in 
 with have shown nothing of it. I went up yesterday with 
 the embassy here to see them take possession of some ground 
 on the Bosphorus, which the Sultan had made them a pre- 
 sent of to build a summer palace ; and a Turkish colonel 
 came with us to deliver the key, as it were. He wore a 
 stuffed and padded and braided military frock-coat and white 
 trousers, slippers and spurs, and red fez, i.e. full uniform. 
 He was made quite at home ; the attacMs talked Turkish to 
 him, and he " performed picnic " with us ; he was not shy, 
 and he appeared to enjoy himself, and drank as much sherry 
 and claret and champagne as any Frank of the party ; but 
 there was a good-natured, smiling awkwardness that would 
 have suited a Greek or Italian, but which was contrary to 
 one's notions of a Turk in authority. I thought I saw the 
 same kind of thing among a number of them who were 
 collected together waiting to attend the Sultan to mosque. 
 They were, I was told, an assembly of Pachas, most of them 
 men of fatness and respectable age, all dressed in the European 
 dress, with various military decorations, sitting, not squatting, 
 in a circle under the trees, near a quay on the Bosphorus. 
 There they smoked, chatted, and drank coffee. Most of 
 them, as I said, were fat, and so pompous ; and there was a 
 good deal of ceremony, especially when a Pacha of a larger 
 number of tails, and more developed double chin, straddled 
 into the conclave ; but it was an awkward mixture of European 
 military ceremony and behaviour, such as they might have 
 seen in the European officers in their service, and the Turkish 
 gesticulations of courtesy ; and there was certainly, in appear- 
 ance, the awkwardness of men who are not yet accustomed 
 to the part which they are to play before the pubHo. Their 
 servants were in the same costume, beginning with the red 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 145 
 
 scull-cap, and pasBing on to the blue frock-coat and white 
 duck trousers, tiU these ended in a woful pair of slippered 
 feet ; and they waited on their masters, bearing in one hand 
 their master's sabre, in the other his pipe-case ; and the 
 hurry was amusing, when the Sultan appeared, of servants 
 receiving pipes and putting them in their covers, and Pachas 
 buckling on their scimitars. Of course this is only the out- 
 side of things, and a partial outside ; of the inside I know 
 nothing ; but this outside is unnatural and disagreeable to 
 see. The general song here is that the Turks are improving. 
 I cannot help fancying that the meaning of this is, that they 
 have been bemystified into wearing tight trousers contrary to 
 the nature of their legs, and drinking wine contrary to their 
 religion ; that they have been partly persuaded and partly 
 frightened into moderation in the use of the bowstring and 
 scimitar, which, of course, is a good thing ; that their Oriental 
 admiration of the effects of machinery has very much over- 
 come their jealousy of foreigners, and that the peace which 
 is kept in the East by the West has enabled them to indulge 
 their taste this way to a considerable extent. They say here 
 that the revenue is flourishing, well managed, well spent, 
 and collected without oppression — cki lo sa ? — but very likely 
 it is so. One ancient fashion, meantime, is still preserved ; 
 when the public of Constantinople is dissatisfied with minis- 
 terial measures, they set fire to the city, and go on from 
 night to night tiU they are satisfied — so they did last Feb- 
 ruary, I am told, until Reschid Pacha, the grand vizier, who 
 is disliked as a Frankist, had to give way. There is no 
 doubt a strong fanatic Mussulman element in the population ; 
 but I do not suppose that it has much power, though I dare 
 say the encroachments of Liberalism will yet provoke some 
 fierce outbreaks. It must be a sore trial to ancient Mussul- 
 
146 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 men to see pert, curious, hatted Franks allowed to poke 
 about the mosques, by force of a firman, which is given for 
 the asking, and to see them swagger through the streets of 
 the capital with none of their former awe and reverence, 
 confident of protection from cuff or spitting from an im- 
 partial set of peelers who parade the streets and keep every 
 one in order but the dogs — the only inhabitants who are at 
 liberty, if they like, to molest- strangers. 
 
 To 0. M. Church, Esq. 
 
 Pbricles, off PiEiEus, Wth Jwne. 
 I send this just to say that I have left Constantinople, 
 and am now sailing under the yellow flag, and awaiting a 
 week of imprisonment. We have had a pleasant voyage as 
 to weather, and seen some bits of interesting coast well : the 
 Troad again, Lesbos green and pretty, Chios much bolder, 
 with a noble peak, and my old friend Cape Sunium, for the 
 third time, in the grey of this morning. 
 
 PiR^us, Wth Jvme 1847. 
 I dispatched a letter of this date written on board the 
 French steamer, now I am going to send you my first views 
 and impressions of quarantine life and manners. Our prison 
 is a large set of buildings, like a set of warehouses, on the 
 water's edge, on the southern side of the harbour, where we 
 were received by a cautious gentleman, pen in hand, who 
 looked at our boatful with the same sort of look as a butcher 
 contemplates a flock of sheep brought for him to buy. He 
 determined finally on the purchase, and we were walked out 
 of a kind of pen where we stood by the water-side, to a 
 room. There our position was, for a moment, perplexing : 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 147 
 
 wMchever way we turned we were met by exclamations and 
 warnings in fierce Greek and Italian, — ''not there'' — "keep 
 off here " — " move oflP to that place " — " no, don't touch that" ; 
 — aU uttered with the energy of five or six persons afraid of 
 the plague. At last, when we had found out where we 
 might stand without peril to the health of others, or our 
 own safety, our names were taken down by a gruff gentleman, 
 who appeared to have no wish to be more in our society 
 than he could help. Our party was, it must be confessed, 
 not a pleasant one ; myself and an Austrian gentleman, I 
 believe a Jew, with certainly a Hebrew bearded servant, 
 were the respectabilities of the party, the rest consisted of 
 some ten or fifteen uncomfortable-looking Greeks, with much 
 greasy luggage, among whom, we were informed, was a 
 famous chef de voleurs, with some three or four of his crew. 
 To do the gruflf gentleman credit, as soon as he heard my 
 name, his gruffness changed into the blandest politeness ; 
 the General had kindly spoken a word to him in my favour, 
 and the director immediately professed the greatest desire to 
 make me comfortable, and to let me have everything I could 
 want, except the relaxation of my sentence of condemnation 
 to eight days' imprisonment. However, I was shown to a 
 room opening on a gravel walk, which I was told to consider 
 my own. It had nothing in it, but was clean and fairly 
 large, and presently became furnished with an iron bedstead 
 and mattress, which I forbore to examine too closely (the 
 sheets were clean), and a deal table, and chair, and washing 
 apparatus, — and thus I am set up for my week. We are 
 supplied with food by a restaurateur ; how he manages to 
 escape being "compromised" I don't know. He came to 
 receive his orders, and looked as frightened as every other 
 person not in quarantine does at those who are. I am writ- 
 
148 DEASr church's life and letters part 
 
 ing with my door open, and my " guardian " sitting on the 
 step. He watches me with the most tender interest, never 
 allowing me out of his sight. I am thinking of spending 
 this week in making him teach me modern Greek. The 
 Lazaretto is very full There is a long room overhead, filled 
 with a lot of awkward sort of companions, some seventy 
 Arabs, pilgrims from Mecca, who were shipwrecked some- 
 where and brought here to be purified, black, wild looking, 
 ourang-autang looking creatures, in their white cloaks, un- 
 pleasant to come in contact with. But they seem to keep 
 the poor wretches in safe custody. . . . 
 
 My friends from the "Acrrv have paid me a visit to-day. 
 We were allowed to meet in a room, the General sitting at 
 one end, I at the other, and a guard to see that I did not 
 infect him ; this was much less humiliating than talking 
 through a grating like a prisoner for debt : and except that 
 one had to repress one's instinctive tendency to shake hands, 
 there was nothing particular to remind one of one's situation. 
 But if I have to receive anything from some member of the 
 sane part of the public, the rules of quarantine start into 
 instant vigour. A friend brought me yesterday a packet of 
 letters. I was going, in my ignorance, to take them from 
 his hand, when one of the guards, with horror depicted on 
 his countenance, snatched the packet from my friend's hand 
 and threw it at my feet, just as one throws something to a 
 dog, who, you are afraid, may bite your fingers in his anxiety 
 to secure what you offer him. To-day time has not hung 
 very heavy. My watch is, as you know, telling the time — 
 unless it has been wound up the wrong way — on the sides 
 of Oyllene to a Greek klepht, so that I have no temptation 
 to count hours, and breakfast, dinner, and the evening gun 
 of the French man-of-war are my only marks of time-; but 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 149 
 
 I have involved myself in a brisk attack on Gibbon and tbe 
 lUad, whicb will last at least my eight days. This evening 
 I was amused by our Greek fellow-prisoners, who set to 
 work to pass their time in a variety of games — modern 
 editions of the heroic ones, but which did considerable credit 
 to their athletic powers. There was wrestling, leaping, and 
 throwing x«P)""Sto ; and no doubt if there was a sufficient 
 stadium, we shoiild have had running. . . . All this went 
 on with great energy and noise, to our amusement, and the 
 apparent astonishment of the Bedouins, in the room upstairs, 
 who presented a contrast, sitting in silence at the windows, 
 black, grim faces, and shapeless figures shrouded in their 
 white burnouses, to the capering, tumbling, laughing, and 
 yelling Greeks down on whom they gazed. . . . 
 
 15th Jv/ne. — One day more, and then hip, hip, hurra. 
 Yesterday evening we had a rare entertainment, which has 
 almost made up for the imprisonment. Our Greeks were 
 amusing themselves with one of their games, the gist of 
 which consisted in one of the party^ who was tethered to a 
 stake, trying to touch with his foot some of the rest who 
 skirmished round him, licking him unmercifully whenever 
 they could safely, with their girdles twisted hard into 
 instruments of severe punishment. The Bedouins at their 
 windows were looking on as usual, when suddenly the desire 
 of play seized them, and almost the whole body came 
 tumbling down a steep wooden staircase which led, from 
 outside, up to their apartment — very difficult to ascend or 
 descend in loose slippers — into the back court of the 
 Lazaretto. The whole Christian population rushed to look 
 at them, and great was the trepidation and loud the cries of 
 the guardiani to prevent any number of one crowd touching 
 any one of the other. The Bedouins were certainly a queer 
 
150 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 assembly, tall, laniy, dark brown faces, legs, and arms, 
 scarcely human looking, with long shirts and great white 
 cloaks muffling them up, and tied round their heads. They 
 always remind me, even in point of colour and expression, 
 of Sebastian del Piombo's Lazarus in the National Gallery : 
 they have that pinched, sharp look, and mummy-like hue. 
 They had changed from their usual stiU quiescence into a 
 state of great animation, and they began their form of the 
 Greek game I have mentioned. They stripped off their 
 burnouses, and rolled and tied them up into a great bundle, 
 and these bundles were laid together at the feet of the man 
 who was tethered ; then the rest of the players were to try 
 and snatch away each his bundle, without being kicked by 
 the bundle-keeper, and pelt him with it, and whoever he 
 touched took his place. It was a most extraordinary sight, 
 some twenty or thirty of these wild black feUows dancing 
 about, in nothing but their shirts, and the rest squatted 
 against the wall, looking on, and showing their white teeth 
 as they grinned, quite in a beast-like way. The man who 
 was tethered kept the bundles between his feet, and kept 
 jumping and hopping round them, every now and then 
 kicking vigorously with his black wiry shanks ; while the 
 rest of the party surrounded him, and came on in a sort of 
 crouching attitude, giving a sort of suppressed hiss or short 
 jerking " hah ! " at each jump, as they tried to snatch away 
 their bundles. There was a sort of tiger-Uke activity about 
 them, a curious contrast to the human activity of the Greeks. 
 It was kept up with great spirit, when, in the midst of a 
 most energetic contest, some great visitors were announced. 
 It was the French Admiral with several of his of&cers, who 
 had come to see the Bedouins, and fairly caught them 
 romping. He desired to have them mustered, and they 
 
I FOREIGN TEAYEL 151 
 
 were all drawn up before him and us, one of them acting 
 as interpreter. On one side were sixty of the wildest looking 
 creatures out of Africa, standing in a long row, muffled up 
 in ragged white cloaks ; facing them was the little, squat, 
 dapper French Admiral with his hand on his walking-stick, 
 backed by three or four ofScers in epaulettes and aiguillettes, 
 standing in the attitude in which aides-de-camp are usually 
 drawn behind their chief, i.e. leg stretched out, hand resting 
 on the hip, face smiling and scornful. The Admiral made a 
 speech to them, telling them that they were to be let out 
 of quarantine to-morrow, that the French Government felt 
 most kindly disposed to them, that they should be shipped 
 on board the man-of-war (introducing, at the same time, the 
 swell-looking captain to the savages), and that every care 
 should be taken of them till they got back to Algiers. The 
 speech made very little impression, as far as appeared ; the 
 white burnouses shambled off without expressing thanks or 
 pleasure, and retired up the difficult staircase to their long 
 room. It struck me that the Frenchman hoped to get a 
 "Vive la France" out of them, as he made a great point 
 with the interpreter of explaining his speech at once, and on 
 the spot, to the whole body, which the interpreter obstinately 
 would not do, but only interpreted to some of the headmen 
 round him. 
 
 To C. M. Church, Esq. 
 
 Athens, 11th July 1847. 
 I must beg you to excuse a hasty letter, and my past 
 idleness in letter-writing. In Athens itself the heat makes 
 one intolerably lazy, and when I am out of it I am on horse- 
 back (or asleep) the whole day, and have not much time, 
 and in the sort of lodgings with which one gets acquainted 
 
152 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 and contented in the course of Greek travelling, not mucli 
 opportunity. And now I am preparing to take my leave of 
 Greece, very glad to exchange Athenian life, which at this 
 season is very heavy work, for something more varied, and 
 yet with a good deal of regret at leaving Greece, — more 
 than I expected to feel. I may congratulate myself, how- 
 ever, on having got leave to go at all. 
 
 I am just back from a pilgrimage to Delphi. My route 
 was Thebes, Lebadeia, Oharoneia, Daulis, Arachova, Kastri, 
 and back by the southern side of Helicon, Stiri, Thisbe, 
 Leuctra, Thespise, to Thebes ; then by Platsea across Cithaeron 
 to Megara, and across Salamis to Athens. I went with my 
 former compagnon de voyage Vilaeti, with his two Socro- 
 (f>vXaK€i, Ghiorghi, my old friend, and another queer old 
 Bulgarian, an old soldier of the Greek War. As far as 
 Lebadeia we went in a carriage, which was a great help ; 
 the rest on horseback, starting, if possible before daybreak, 
 halting at nine or ten, and starting again about three or 
 four. Once or twice we were caught by the sun, and pretty 
 well broiled ; but on the whole, considering the time of year, 
 we escaped very well. But the heat interrupted sight-seeing 
 in the middle of the day, and, as usual, I have some two or 
 three points on my traveller's conscience, as having been 
 carelessly seen. But on the whole my nine days' work was 
 satisfactory. The Boeotian plains are very striking. As we 
 came down from Cithseron on the way from Eleusis, they 
 lay before us, the low rolling downs intersected by water- 
 courses of Platsea, rising beyond the Asopus into reddish 
 gentle heights, which hide Thebes itself : then the plain of 
 Thebes, flat as a table, to the foot of its bounding mountain, 
 with round mounds rising out of it, parched and yellow with 
 fallows and stubble fields ; then on the left, the great flat of 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 153 
 
 Orchomenus, half swamp, half meadow, its lines of dark and 
 light green, and occasional clumps of -willows or poplars, 
 finishing in the dim blue of water, the water of the lake 
 Oopais, which retreats within narrow limits in the summer, 
 and contrasting remarkably with the dry brown plain of 
 Thebes, which is separated only by a low ridge. And round 
 this expanse of level is thrown a noble girdle of mountains, 
 the two summits of Oithseron rising immediately over Platsea, 
 and spreading and falling right and left of it. Then Helicon, 
 a grey, distant summit, and a more wooded and near peak, 
 and then the remarkable serrated crags of green and grey 
 Libethrus, which border the south side of the plain of 
 Orchomenus ; over them the dim huge majestic mass of 
 Parnassus, then the fine Phocian, Locrian, and northern 
 Boeotian ranges, beyond which appear the noble outlines of 
 the mountains of Euboea. It is one of the grandest of the 
 many grand and characteristic combinations of plain and 
 mountain which are to be found in Greece. 
 
 Ltiteaki, Wth July. 
 At last I am off, and have taken final leave of Athens. 
 In spite of some disagreeables, I had become attached to the 
 place, and I have been something like unhappy all the 
 morning at saying good-bye, not only to my uncle, but to 
 several of his Greek friends, whom I have come to like very 
 much, with all their imperfections. They have, many of 
 them at least, the virtue of strong devotion to a person, in- 
 volving their goodwill and services to the best of their power 
 to all his belongings. From being my headquarters, Athens 
 had come to feel something like a home, and I dare say that 
 I shall sulk a little now that I shall be alone for some time. 
 I go from here to Corfu. I don't thinlc that I shall stay 
 
154 DEAN CHUECH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 longer than the time which the steamer stays, as otherwise I 
 should have to wait a week or even a fortnight for another 
 steamer. I hope, however, to see Lord Seaton, for whom I 
 am overwhelmed with letters. From Corfu I purpose going 
 on to Anoona, then Bologna, EavexLoa (if not absolutely 
 dangerous on account of the heat), Venice, Milan, Genoa, 
 Leghorn, and there I hope to meet you about the end of 
 August. 
 
 From this point in his journey the continuous series 
 of letters is broken. After a week spent with Lord 
 Seaton at Corfu, Mr. Church went on into Italy — ^in 
 spite of summer heats, seeing Venice, Eavenna, and 
 Bologna. Two letters written from the two latter cities 
 remain, but beyond them, little or nothing of his cor- 
 respondence during the rest of his tour has been 
 preserved. 
 
 To I"bedbeic Eogbrs, Esq. 
 
 Bologna, 15th August 1847. 
 I came here from Eavenna yesterday. I wish I could 
 express to you how much Eavenna has struck me. It is, 
 indeed, a place worth coming to, even at this time of the 
 year. As I approached it in the evening, over the vast 
 swamp which spreads for miles and miles round, fringed with 
 rows of poplars, and bounded on one side by the jagged 
 strange-looking ridge of the distant Apennines, and on the 
 other by the Pineta, a pine forest which skirts the seashore 
 for twenty-five miles — and saw the churches of Eavenna 
 standing out against the sky from the open horizon of the 
 plain, I was reminded first of Oxford and then of St Pol de 
 Leon. Not that it is like either, but its position and associa- 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 155 
 
 tions, and visibly ecclesiastical appearance, form the linV of 
 association. It is a solemn place, desolate and melanclioly 
 now, witli its empty streets, and fine palaces all shut up, and 
 its historical interest, which is finished before the Middle 
 Ages begin, and its churches built and restored in the fifth 
 and sixth centuries. The Middle Ages, which have given aU 
 their character to the other Italian cities, have almost left 
 Eavenna untouched ; it remains among them, recalling the 
 times of Theodosius and Justinian, and bringing one very 
 near to those of St. Athanaaius and St. Chrysostom. The 
 churches, most of them of the age of Justinian, retain, though 
 in very various degrees, traces and remains of that time, the 
 mosaics in some are very perfect, and the effect sometimes is 
 quite gorgeous. 
 
 This place is a contrast : Eavenna, with its basilicas, and 
 old baptisteries, and mosaics, and Christian tombs, is a sort of 
 Pompeii of the early ages, with grass growing in its streets. 
 Bologna has' all the bustle and stir of a modern capital. Its 
 streets, full of people, and its churches and ancient public 
 buildings, recall the days of Italian republicanism or tyranny. 
 I have only got a glimpse of it yet, and of its magnificent 
 piazza, where the saucy old populace dragged down and 
 smashed M. Angelo's statue of Julius, and sold the cross to 
 be turned into a cannon. There is a vast unfinished church 
 on one side, where Charles V. was crowned Emperor, and 
 the various public buildings of different dates, from the 
 thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries, on the other side, form 
 the most striking monument I have yet seen of the turbulent, 
 but very interesting Middle Ages of Italy. And the popula- 
 tion is still in character. Their enthusiasm for Pio Nono is 
 quite mediseval ; they can talk nothing else ; " Viva Pio 
 Nono " was written up over almost every other door in the 
 
156 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 little towns that I passed througi — and there is no title too 
 grand for him in the various inscriptions to his honour, from 
 the placard at the street comer to the lofty Latin composi- 
 tions in San Petronio ; these last very striking in their way. 
 I came in this morning for the end of a grand funeione at San 
 Petronio ; the aisles were filled with soldiers under arms, and 
 the nave, an immense place, thronged with people, — the 
 main body of the mass profoundly attentive, but, on the 
 outskirts of it, those free and easy ways, and that rapid 
 transition from devotion to what we should call irreverence, 
 which these people have inherited from their Middle Age 
 forefathers. After the service was over they streamed out 
 most grandly down the steps into the piazza, which was filled 
 with vendors, ambulatory and stationary, of all sorts of things 
 eatable and wearable. But the great attractions were two 
 quacks, one of high, and the other of low degree, who had 
 taken post at each end of the piazza waiting for the exit of 
 the crowd. The gentleman quack was in his cairiage, quite 
 a grand turn-out, with servants, liveries, and cockades ; him- 
 self a portly man in black, with a magnificent gold chain 
 across his waistcoat ; and round the carriage were arranged 
 trays and drawers, with surgical and dentist instruments, and 
 various quack paraphernalia. He stood in his carriage and 
 harangued the crowd. The cad quack was more curious stUl ; 
 he had taken his stand by the grand fountain in the piazza, 
 and was a complete mob orator. He had in Ms hand a box, 
 which, he said, contained crucifixes, which were a safeguard 
 against all kinds of evils^rearthquake, lightning, pestilence, 
 and every sort of danger. These he was going to make 
 presents of to his friends, and they could give him, to be sure, 
 something for his trouble in bringing them, but " mezzo paola 
 h niente" — for the sake of the crosses — "e non credete. 
 
I FOREIGN TRAVEL 157 
 
 Signori, olie siamo di stagno ; sono di metallo bianco di 
 Corinte ; " and, besides tbis, be would give witb eacb cross a 
 little packet " della radica di S. Apollinare," wbicb would at 
 once stop tootbacbe ; " and now, Signorini, I am going to 
 show you the crosses, so take off your hats : " and every hat 
 was off in a moment as he showed the rows of crosses round. 
 The people looked eagerly — men, women, and children. It 
 was curious to watch the buyers as they walked away with 
 their purchase ; some looking very grave and putting it safely 
 away — others, half incredulous, and obviously with strong 
 suspicion that they had made fools of themselves. The 
 quack's impudence and gravity were superb, and so was his 
 Italian, which is unusual. Pio Nono is at present at the top 
 of the wall, at least to judge from appearance. The Fuorusciti, 
 who have, taken advantage of the amnesty, and are successively 
 coming back to their several cities, keep alive the enthusiasm ; 
 each refugee who returns and is fSted, makes a fresh stir in his 
 town. And now the creation of this civic guard, and the 
 discovery of " la Congiura di Roma," have given fresh impulse 
 to the popular feeling. It is in the towns that this feeling 
 is so strong. The priests in the country are said to be of the 
 old party, and though the townspeople say that the Pope's 
 popularity is equally great in the country, their admission 
 about the priests makes it doubtful. I received as I came 
 along the most horrible accounts of what the Congiura di 
 Roma was to have produced : sack of Rome, a sort of Jac- 
 querie in the provinces, deposition or murder of the Pope, 
 and election of Lambruschini at Naples. This is the popular 
 idea, and the townspeople are savage. The new civic guard, 
 though hardly organised yet, is beginning to distinguish itself 
 by its activity in making arrests, and they say that it is time 
 now for the Pope to be severe — "Bisogna tagUar qualche 
 
158 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 teste, h una soddisfazione dovuta al popolo," — and I suppose 
 Ciceruacchio will make him do it. At one of the inns on 
 the road the innkeeper brought me a translation of a para- 
 graph in the Morning Chronicle about Rothschild's election, in 
 which Pio IX. is called the " most enlightened sovereign of 
 the age." The fat old gentleman was much delighted by this 
 English testimony to the greatness of the Pope, and was very 
 anxious to know what part England would take in the 
 struggle which all here think inevitable between the Pope 
 and Austria. What strikes one a good deal in the people 
 whom I have talked to is, in spite of their enthusiasm, the 
 hopelessness that lies at the bottom of it. They all seem to 
 think that success and prosperity are not for them — that all 
 this is too good to last — that it will end in failure and dis- 
 appointment. The Pope will be poisoned, or Austria will 
 pull it all down, and the other Powers wUl stand by. It is 
 the experiment alone which interests them ; they become 
 gloomy and desponding as soon as they begin to look forward 
 to its result. And, as far as I know Italian history, this 
 seems almost ingrained. They are in a great rage with the 
 French papers for saying that the conspiracy is a fancy — " un 
 sogn." The impudence, they say, of making light of it. 
 The whole country is looking out for " il gran processo " and 
 in a state of daily fear of " i nimici," as they call the old 
 Pope's party, whom the Liberals look upon with that sort of 
 mingled suspicion, contempt, and fear which the Whigs felt 
 towards the Jacobites. The occupation of the city of Ferrara 
 by the Anstrians on the 18th has puzzled them. Certainly 
 the Roman states, if they are let alone, bid fair to be a nucleus 
 of anti- Austrian feeling, which the wise old Prince, — " quel 
 vecchio infame," as my political innkeeper called him, may 
 think prudent to nip at once. 
 
I OXFORD 159 
 
 Mr. Church was still wandering in Italy, when he 
 was called to Lyons to nurse the brother to whom the 
 Greek letters had been addressed, who had been taken 
 dangerously ill there whilst on his way to Athens and 
 the East. Upon his recovery they returned together to 
 Italy, where they revisited Florence, which they had 
 not seen since their father's death in 1828. Turning 
 homewards at length, at the end of the year Mr. Church 
 went to Genoa, crossing thence by steamer to Marseilles ; 
 and after watching the peaks of the Carrara mountains, 
 " magnificent that evening, pink with the last sunset of 
 1847," and experiencing the force and keenness of a 
 mistral, which was blowing furiously, at Marseilles on 
 the first day of the new year, he crossed France in bitter 
 wintry weather, and arrived in England in the second 
 week of January after a year's absence. 
 
 Little record remains of the few years which had 
 still to elapse of Mr. Church's Oxford life. On his 
 return from abroad he resumed his customary life at 
 Oriel, reading widely, both on theological and historical 
 subjects, and writing regularly for the Gvardicm and the 
 Christian Remembrancer. He turned to good account the 
 knowledge he had gained during his year's wandering, 
 in essays and articles which gather up the results of his 
 own observation on foreign politics, and his study of the 
 foreign political writers of the time — ^Rosmini, Gioberti, 
 d'Azeglio, Louis Blanc. His articles on Farini's Roman 
 State, and on the French Revolution of 1848, both of 
 them afterwards reprinted in his volume of Essays and 
 Reviews, are examples of this combination. The latter 
 
160 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 article, in particular, whilst it is one of the most masterly 
 in the collection, has plainly gained vividness from 
 touches suggested to him by what he had seen and heard 
 at Lyons, as he waited there, during the autumn of 
 1847, detained by his brother's illness, as well as from 
 the impression made on him by Paris, which he had 
 passed through only a few weeks before the Revolution 
 of February. Dante had been an unfailing companion, 
 never out of reach during his Italian journeys and the 
 long days of vetturino travelling, as the brothers drove 
 ' together from Lyons to Marseilles, and along the Cornice 
 Road to Genoa on their way to Florence. The little 
 well-worn volume of the Divina Commedia, which had 
 been laid on Dante's tomb at Ravenna, is filled with 
 marginal notes and jottings, bearing witness to its con- 
 stant use, and to the associations which had grown up 
 during the journey round numberless passages of the 
 poem, the last entry at the closing canto of the Paradiso 
 bearing the date, "Florence, Christmas Day, 1847." 
 The essay on Dante, which two years later was the out- 
 come of this diligent study, as well as the essay on 
 Church and State, '^ which had been occasioned by the 
 Gorham judgment of 1850, both of them made their 
 
 ^ See Mozley's Letters, p. 203. " Church's article [on Cliurcli and 
 State] is very good, and will, I hope, have the effect of quieting some 
 minds who think so fearfully of our Beformation Brastianism. It had 
 the effect upon me, as if one whole side of the truth, which had been 
 completely suppressed throughout this controversy, and all the con- 
 troversy of the last twenty years, had now fairly come out. Of course 
 we shall displease our ultra friends who are eager for a convulsion. 
 I confess I am not. Nor do I see anything in the temper of those 
 who are which attracts me, " 
 
I OXFORD 161 
 
 first appearance in the Christian Bememhraricer of 
 1850. 
 
 But he was beginning to feel the need of more 
 definite and permanent occupation than his Ufe at 
 Oxford now ofiered. A tutor's life had never been very 
 much to his mind, and his inclinations turned more and 
 more towards pastoral work in some country parish. 
 His engagement in 1850 to Miss Bennett, the daughter 
 of a Somersetshire squire and parson, and a niece of 
 Dr. Moberly, gave a fresh impulse to his wish to settle 
 and make a home. Whilst waiting for a benefice, he 
 took up again for a short time the tutorship at Oriel. 
 "There is no one to take the tutorship," he writes to 
 James Mozley, " * * * and * * * for various reasons 
 not being wished for. So Chretien opened his troubles 
 to me about the college being in a bad way, and his 
 having no one to work with — and would I take it if 
 the Provost ofiered it me. And after some negotiation, 
 it has ended in my being stop-gap again for a time, and 
 I shall have the satisfaction of ending my Oxford life as 
 a tutor." In November of 1852 he made one of a 
 deputation which was sent up by the University to 
 attend the funeral of the Duke of Wellington in St. 
 Paul's. The letter describing the ceremony gives Mr. 
 Church's first experience of St. Paul's on a great public 
 occasion; his last formal act in connection with the 
 University thus constituting, as it were, a link between 
 the life he was leaving and that which was awaiting 
 him in the distant future : — 
 
 M 
 
162 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 Oeibl, 21st November 1852. 
 The funeral was reaUy a great solemnity, and I should 
 think as real and genuine a one as such a thing can ever be. 
 It was, of course, as much of a triumph as a funeral ; but 
 there was both feeling and self-restraint shown on a wonder- 
 ful scale, for a mere crowd ; and the ecclesiastical part of the 
 ceremonial was not unworthy of the rest. The procession of 
 clergy in surplices, and the distinctness and clearness of the 
 chanting, were much beyond what I ever expected : the 
 burial service was not lost, as I half feared, in the spectacle, 
 but had its full prominence. To the last he seemed to carry 
 with him his good success. 
 
 In the autumn of 1852 Mr. Church was oiFered and 
 accepted the living of Whatley, a small parish in 
 Somersetshire, in the gift of Mr. Horner of Mells. He 
 was ordained priest at the Christmas ordination of the 
 same year, and in the following January he left Oxford 
 finally for his country parish, spending a solitary six 
 months there before his marriage, which took place in 
 July. He carried with him from Oxford the warm 
 affection and regret both of friends and colleagues. 
 And from the Head of his college came the expression 
 of regard, in words which gain an added value in the 
 light of former differences: — "No one," wrote the 
 Provost of Oriel, "regrets our losing you from Oxford 
 more than myself." 
 
 It was long indeed before Mr. Church himself became 
 fully reconciled to the separation; no other place, 
 however dear, ever had the peculiar position in his 
 
1 OXFORD 163 
 
 heart held by Oxford. To the eighteen years he had 
 passed there — ^years which had brought great happiness, 
 even if at times great anxieties — he felt that he owed 
 all that had most enriched and deepened his life, of 
 knowledge, of friendships, of experience. "Oxford has 
 been a glorious place for me," he wrote, " so one must 
 not complain of changes." 
 
PAET II 
 
 WHATLEY 
 
 It would be hard to imagine a more complete contrast 
 than that which awaited Mr. Church when he exchanged 
 his life at Oxford for the care of a country parish. 
 Whatley was a little village of two hundred people, 
 wholly agricultural in its occupations, lying in the midst 
 of the rich Somersetshire pasture country, twelve miles 
 from Wells, and three miles from Frome, its nearest 
 market town. For many years the parish had been 
 without a resident rector ; both church and rectory were 
 out of repair; and the people of the place, unused to 
 and suspicious of strangers, lived, as such small and 
 isolated communities are apt to do, almost exclusively 
 within the range of their own little local occupations 
 and interests and feuds. To Mr. Church, who had had 
 no training in parochial work, and no experience beyond 
 what he had gained when helping some clerical friend 
 during the leisure of Oxford vacations, there was a good 
 deal in the life awaiting him that was at first unfamiliar 
 and irksome. The separation from friends, which his 
 
PAET II WHATLEY 165 
 
 position, single-handed in his parish, entailed, as well as 
 the loss of the freedom and the variety of interests to 
 which Oxford had accustomed him, told heavily at first 
 upon his spirits. "I am tired of telling my friends 
 how badly I do without them," he writes to Mrs. 
 Johnson at the Observatory, in May 1853, during the 
 solitary months which had to elapse before his marriage. 
 " I am sure it is very kind of them to think of me ; but 
 I can assure them that they cannot miss me as much as 
 I miss them. ... I see nobody, and feel no great wish 
 for acquaintances. And two sermons a Sunday is not 
 after my mind. I suppose I am being punished for my 
 antipathy in former days. . . . The weather is very 
 fine, and the country looking very pretty ; but it does 
 not reconcile me to my transplanting. I think all day 
 long of Shotover, and the bowls at the Observatory, and 
 my den, cold and dirty as it was, at Oriel." 
 
 But though he thus wrote, he took up his work with 
 his usual thoroughness and strength of purpose, and 
 before many years were passed he had begun to strike 
 deep root in his new home. As time went on, and his 
 experience grew, he formed a parochial taethod of his 
 own, which, simple and unambitious as it was, suited 
 well the circumstances of his parish. His earliest efibrts 
 were directed towards his schools — to the parish school, 
 where he went daily, to the Sunday school, and in the 
 winter to the night school, where, with his wife, he 
 gathered the men and elder lads of the place for instruc- 
 tion on two or three evenings of each week. With the 
 children of the village his relations out of school hours 
 
166 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 were always full of pleasant freedom. Paper chases for 
 the boys (an amusement unheard of before at Whatley) 
 became an institution of the place, and one in which he 
 might be counted on to take a foremost part ; and with 
 the elder children there were long country walks in 
 summer, when they were encouraged to search for wild 
 flowers to be looked at afterwards with Mr. Church's 
 microscope. It was not long before throughout the place 
 the hesitating welcome which had awaited him as a 
 stranger passed into a loyal and affectionate confidence. 
 Although his work at Whatley was not untouched by 
 those disappointments which every parish priest must 
 know, the relationship which thus grew up between him 
 and his people was never disturbed or weakened. They 
 turned to him unquestioningly as their friend, as one on 
 whose counsel they could rely, who could understaad 
 their perplexities, and who could be trusted to keep 
 their secrets. They could not mistake the presence of a 
 sympathy which honestly and naturally entered into the 
 familiar and homely details of their everyday life, and 
 into all that concerned them, — their work, their children, 
 their gardens, — and which could be interested, as they 
 said themselves, even in their pigs. " He were such a 
 gentleman, and he cared for us so," was the phrase by 
 which an old woman described the considerateness and 
 the ready, genuine courtesy which won the hearts of 
 the poorest and most ignorant. By the old, and by the 
 sick and dying, his visits were eagerly looked for. It 
 was no uncommon request that he would come and sit 
 by the bedside of the sick, watching with them until the 
 
II WHATLEY 167 
 
 dreaded "turn of the night" had passed; and in any 
 case of sudden or urgent illness, or to a dying person, he 
 would be summoned in haste — roused, it might be, at 
 night by the sound of pebbles thrown up against his 
 window — for they longed not to pass away without the 
 help of his presence and his prayers. And among the 
 men of the village his influence was not less remarkable. 
 The roughest and most turbulent of them did not question 
 his authority, or refuse a respect which was never for- 
 gotten even in the free and frank intercourse which had 
 grown up in the night schools or the cricket-iield. No 
 one took liberties with him, and men were quick to 
 recognise a power which on occasion could flash out in 
 prompt and stern rebuke of faults of conduct, in a way 
 that was all the more impressive by its contrast with 
 the gentleness of his usual manner. It used to be a 
 saying during the early days of his work at Whatley 
 that " a man durstn't any longer beat his wife, else the 
 parson would be down on him ; '' and in any drunken 
 brawl it was he who was sent for to stop the dispute 
 with his straightforward resoluteness, and if need were, 
 to step in to part the combatants. An occasion of this 
 kind was long remembered in the village, when, after 
 being sent for late at night to stop a fight between two 
 men, both very drunk, and both fiercely quarrelsome, 
 Mr. Church laid hold of the more dangerous of the two 
 and walked with him up and down the road, not letting 
 him go, until at last the man, sobered and quieted, 
 turned and shook his hand, saying, "Well, sir, I think 
 now I'll go to bed." 
 
168 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS takt 
 
 And the qualities by which he won his peculiar power 
 over his people were those which made themselves felt 
 in church and in his sermons. One who was for many 
 years a parishioner recalls the impression made by his 
 manner in church. "The first thing that impressed us 
 all was the extreme solemnity and devotion with which 
 Mr. Church celebrated the Holy Communion. We had 
 heard nothing then about the Eastward position, but I 
 can see now his slight figure bent in lowly reverence 
 before the altar, giving the whole service a new and 
 higher and holier meaning by his bearing and entire 
 absorption in the act of worship." His sermons, short 
 and clear and practical, carefully written so as to avoid 
 the use of long or difficult words, or of any lengthened 
 thread of argument, had the same simple reality and 
 directness of purpose about them. None could mistake 
 his meaning ; but simple as his words were, they had a 
 force and sincerity which made their way to the hearts 
 and consciences of all those who gathered weekly to 
 listen to him in the little village church. 
 
 Side by side with his pastoral work went the pleasant 
 country life, with its quietness and freedom, its varied 
 interests and occupations, and its home happiness. It 
 gave command of leisure for reading, and for a great 
 deal of regular writing, much of the latter, for many 
 years, taking the shape of articles and reviews written 
 weekly for the Guardian and the Saturday Review. In 
 his near neighbour and dear friend, Mr. Horner of Mells, 
 with whom he was in almost daily intercourse, he had a 
 companion who shared his interests in scientific and 
 
11 WHATLEY 169 
 
 literary matters. Almost insensibly the charm of the 
 life grew upon him as years went on. So dear had it 
 at last become, that when, in nineteen years' time, the 
 call to leave it came, it seemed at first as if there could 
 be no compensations in the work that awaited him 
 which could adequately meet the loss of all that he wai 
 giving up. 
 
 Among the friendships of his later life none was 
 more valued by Mr. Church than that with Dr. Asa 
 Gray, the distinguished American botanist, whose ac- 
 quaintance he had made some years before at Oxford. 
 The following letters are among the first in a corre- 
 spondence which continued unbroken until Dr. Gray's 
 death in 1888 :— 
 
 To Dr. Aba Gray. 
 
 Whatlby, 3rd April 1854. 
 
 My dear De. Gbay — I am almost ashamed to venture to 
 reply to your kind letter of last year (the date I om ashamed 
 to add), but I hope you wiU. let me do so, though so late. 
 It has been on my conscience for a very long while. But in 
 truth I have been very long settling, and even now am not 
 so settled as I should wish to be. And all through last year, 
 till quite the end of it, I found time and thoughts occupied 
 with a variety of details, domestic and other, which were 
 quite new to me, and not at all to my taste. And such en- 
 gagements are a great damper to letter-writing. 
 
 But now I have put an old house in a habitable state of 
 repair, and I am married, and I am getting to know some- 
 thing about my parishioners, and I am more broken in to a 
 new mode of life than I was this time last year. I am set 
 
170 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 down in a rather interesting bit of country, on the borders 
 of Somerset and Wilts, on the edge of the Somerset coalfield, 
 where the mountain lime has been thrown up and broken 
 through so as to form some really beautiful rocky valleys 
 and woody hollows, with streams running through them. 
 Whatley itself has not much to boast of, except a rather late 
 spire to its church, which is conspicuous in a wide landscape, 
 which, as you approach from the London side, seems spread 
 out at the foot of the hiUs. The church I cannot boast of, 
 either for its antiquity or its beauty ; it was rebuilt some 
 thirty years ago, and must remain a monument of the taste 
 and economy of that time. 
 
 But it is a part of England where the Romans seem to 
 have settled a good deal ; and all round us we are meeting 
 from time to time with remains of Eoman villas, hypocausts, 
 and tesselated pavements, and so forth. What brought them 
 here I don't know, except that the neighbouring Mendip 
 Hills contain various ores, which possibly were worked in 
 Eoman times. Not very far off, for those who have a carriage, 
 are WeUs and Glastonbury on one side, and Salisbury, with 
 its plain, and Stonehenge on the other. But I have not 
 found my way there yet. I find myself getting very like 
 a mussel stuck to his rock ; and with the exception of an 
 occasional railway flight to Oxford on business, I have hardly 
 stirred out of my parish since I have been here. . . . 
 
 I have taken the liberty of forwarding to you a volume 
 of Essays and Reviews,^ which some kind friends of mine 
 have been at the trouble of reprinting from periodicals. 
 
 1 A collection of essays and articles contributed by Mr. Church to 
 the British Critic and Ohristian Remernbrancer. It was published 
 under the same title as the famous volume which appeared six years 
 later. 
 
II WHATLEY 171 
 
 I should not have republished them myself, but as it has 
 been done, the volume may remind you of Oxford, and I 
 send it to you. 
 
 I hope to hear, one of these days, that you are setting 
 your face Eastward again, and that I may have a chance again 
 of shaking hands with you. My hopes of getting to the 
 West are infinitely small, unless it be as an immigrant ; for 
 what an independent Fellow of a college might do, is effectu- 
 ally barred to a country parson with a small living. But 
 my travelling inclinations do not grow weaker, and I should 
 be only too glad to make acquaintance with a country which 
 becomes every day more interesting to Englishmen. . . . — 
 Believe me, yours most sincerely, B.. W. Church. 
 
 Another letter, somewhat earlier in date, contains 
 the mention of a name which has a singular power of 
 arousing interest : — 
 
 Have you met a friend of mine, formerly a Fellow of my 
 college, Olough, who has been in your neighbourhood lately ? 
 He is a noble-minded and moat able fellow, who has sacrificed 
 a good deal — on very high principles, if not wisely. 
 
 Writing again to Dr. Gray after the conclusion of 
 the first Oxford University Commission : — 
 
 ■Whatlbt, 2ith August 1854. 
 Well, you see, we have been reformed, if not revolution- 
 ised, at least on paper. It will be a curious, and also an 
 anxious thing, to see how the changes will work. I imagine 
 that very few people can have any very good conjectures. 
 For though the reform has been prepared by careful and 
 friendly thinkers, and though there .is a general wish among 
 
172 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETfEBS part 
 
 the residents for some such reform, yet when a great body 
 of alterations comes in a lump, suddenly, and from without, 
 on a body with ancient and complicated organisation, with 
 considerable mental training, and various and subtle sym- 
 pathies, and traditional ways of thinking and feeling, which 
 are ever changing in themselves, yet are very incomprehen- 
 sible to the big public outside, it is very hard to say how 
 the new wiU. fit with the old, and become incorporated with 
 it. I have been, on the whole, a well-wisher to the changes 
 — ^to most, though not to all. But I do feel nervous to see 
 them at work. Say what people will, Oxford has turned 
 out more highly-cultivated thought, thought which acts with 
 greater power on the country, both in the purely intellectual, 
 and in the practical order of life, than any other English 
 
 body ; and if it should be spoilt by clumsy doctoring ! 
 
 I am so glad to hear that there is a good chance of your 
 having to pay us another visit. I hope, if you do come, you 
 will try to spare us a few days, and Mrs. Gray too. — Yours 
 most sincerely, R. W. Church. 
 
 To Manuel Johnson, Esq. 
 
 Whatlbt, 2Sth November 185t 
 Dear Johnson — ... I have not moved since you last 
 heard of me. I should like to get a holiday, but war prices, 
 and increased expenses, and double income-tax, are strong 
 dissuasives, and I shaU hearken to them as long as I am not 
 driven away by actual want of holiday. . . . However, I 
 feel ashamed of complaining when people are fighting for us 
 at Sebastopol. It is getting to look very ugly, and seem- 
 ingly for want of foresight, and from thinking ourselves 
 such great people that we could do without reserves and 
 
11 WHATLEY 173 
 
 reinforcements. I have the Athenians and Syracuse per- 
 petually in my thoughts. It will go hard with Master 
 Newcastle and his fellows if any disaster happens. . . . 
 
 What is the new Council doing 1 I see they have put 
 forth an edict against pigeon-shooting : anything more ? 
 
 Whatlbt, 2nd Jamiary 1855. 
 
 Mozley's booki will no doubt make a great row, and 
 accomplish the break-up that J. H. N. began. I am very 
 sorry for the result, yet it need not have come, if our friends 
 had not stuck up for so much dogmatic certainty, and drawn 
 so narrowly the limits of liberty of thinking. In the 
 Middle Ages, and much more in the early times of the 
 Church, there was infinitely more free speculation than 
 seems compatible with Church views now. I think it must 
 be we who are wrong. The nature of things seems more in 
 favour of the old way than of ours. 
 
 I have been busy lately with a sketch of early Turkish 
 history ^ for the Christian Bemembrancer. But my labour — 
 and it has been a good deal, and not very convenient — has 
 been thrown away, because Scott has managed so that, at 
 the last moment, there was no room for me, being as usual 
 somewhat bulky. I am in a rage with him, because he 
 pressed me very hard to write for this number, and that in 
 spite of my telKng him that I should be long. 
 
 ... I still, you see, hanker after scribbling. I have 
 been thinking lately over an old idea of mine, an account of 
 the times just before the Reformation and Renaissance ; 
 the councils of Basle, etc., and John Gerson : not with any 
 
 ' The Primitive Doctrine of Baptismal Regeneration. 
 ^ Reprinted, under the title of The Early Ottomajis, in vol i. of the 
 Dean's Miscellaneous Works. Mucmillan, 1888. 
 
174 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 controversial purpose, l)ut simply as a curious period of 
 history. But it would require much hunting into books to 
 do it in a proper way, and perhaps some travelling, and that 
 is a great obstacle nowadays. I am now, I am glad to say, 
 able to turn my German to account — not with the same 
 facility as French or Italian, but still usefully. . . . — Ever 
 yours affectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 To Mr. Mozley himself he writes, later in the 
 year : — 
 
 I congratulate you on the conclusion of your book. I 
 have followed it, with great interest, sheet by sheet. It 
 seems to me to have brought out very clearly the fact of the 
 double and parallel lines of ideas, and to have confronted 
 them with great distinctness and power. The subject is one 
 which, I suppose, is not likely to tempt lazy readers. But 
 you have not written for them. It makes one feel how one 
 goes on, taking things for granted, both as principles and ex- 
 planations, and as facts. I am very glad you worked the point 
 well about our ignorance. I never should be a metaphysician ; 
 but the way in which assumptions excite no question, and 
 people go on spinning arguments, as if the whole of the in- 
 visible world was as easy to be understood as the theory of 
 the steam-engine, has long been one of my standing wonders. 
 ... I am glad that you have brought out so strongly the 
 two-sided character of all our means of knowing, and the 
 fact that what we know in religious matters is but the 
 tendency to know. The idea of perfect and absolute know- 
 ledge, which is involved in so much of what is said and 
 taught on all sides, becomes daily more and more unendur- 
 able to me. — Ever yours affectionately, B. W. C. 
 
n WHATLEY 175 
 
 To THE Rev. J. B. Mozley. 
 
 ■Whatlbt, 6th August 1855. 
 
 My dear Mozlet — I should think Malvern must be a 
 mild kind of purgatory at best. But as you have been 
 manful enough to go through with it, I can quite suppose 
 that it may be just what you want, the proper mixture of 
 enforced idleness and bracing treatment. 
 
 ... I was in Oxford about three weeks ago for a day or 
 two. I went up to see poor Marriott, or at least to hear on 
 the spot about him. I was only allowed to see him once 
 for a few minutes, and there was nothing to be done for 
 him, but to leave him quiet to the nurse and one or two 
 people who used to come and read Layard's Nineveh to him. 
 His mind did not seem at all touched — only astonished, as 
 it were, and not able to realise the extent of the blow and 
 its consequences. The doctors had good hope of his coming 
 round in the end, but said that it would be a very long 
 business, and that it would be many weeks before any 
 change was perceptible. What an end to all his plans ! 
 The great difficulty will be to convince him that he must 
 really give them up. He was wanting to write and make 
 arrangements about his Hall, as if he should be well and 
 about again in a month. 
 
 . . . Rogers is anxious about his artillery brother, who 
 has had to leave the camp with the fever, and is in hospital 
 at Scutari. Only think of poor Stowe venturing out there, 
 and just getting in time to see a battle and describe it, and 
 then being carried off. 
 
 I am afraid I have written but a valetudinarian letter. 
 I wish you were here to eat our currants. Can't you come 
 at the end of the Long ? — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. "W. Chukch. 
 
176 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 To THE EeV. W. J. COPBLAND. 
 
 ■Whatlbt, 2eth December 1856. 
 My dbae Copbland — . . . These judgments, in re St. 
 Paul's/ are very trying to one's temper. It is a bad time 
 wien people get to feel that they really cannot get justice and 
 fair-play. I confess for myself, it is not so much, for the 
 questions involved that I care for them. I have my Ukings 
 and beliefs and opinions on themj but if so be that the 
 Prayer-Book had reaUy said, " You must not have a cross on 
 the altar, or an embroidered cloth, or lighted candles," I 
 might have thought it a pity, but it would not have made 
 much difference as to what I felt otherwise about the 
 Prayer-Book. But it is this determination, in courts of 
 justice, to find a meaning and a direction where there is 
 none, and to close questions which at the least are open 
 ones, which is enough to drive fair and quiet men into 
 savage thoughts and feelings. One knows how points have 
 been and would be stretched on the other side, whUe on 
 ours a meaning is found by judges where, by their own 
 confession, there was none discernible before. — Ever yours 
 affectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 To Sir Frederic Eogees. 
 
 Whatlbt, 26th Janua/ry 1857. 
 My dear Eogers — . . . I have just been reading a 
 book which I advise you to look into if it falls in your 
 way : the memoirs and letters of a certain Frederic Perthes, 
 a German bookseller, which I have been much struck with. 
 He was a man who made his trade a great work, and 
 
 ^ St. Paul's, Knightsbridge. See Westerton case, Guardian, 24th 
 December 1856. 
 
II WHATLEY 177 
 
 followed it in the highest spirit ; a thoroughly fine fellow, 
 overflowing with energy, and cleverness, and kindliness, and 
 affectionateness of all kinds, an enthusiastic German, nearly 
 getting hanged by Davoust for stirring up the Hamhurghers 
 against the French in 1813, and full of all kinds of interests 
 — political, religious, social, scientific — a remarkable mixture 
 of unceasing activity of mind and body, both in his business 
 and in all that concerned public questions, with a most 
 genuine and increasing depth of religious feeling. The 
 curious thing is, how he is an instance showing how those 
 Germans contrive to show deep religious earnestness — and 
 what certainly has all the look of New Testament religion 
 — ^without Church or any fixed creed, and with a most 
 unrestrained intercourse with men of the most clashing 
 opinions, Roman Catholics, rationalists, sceptics, and every- 
 thing. His business and his very high character brought 
 him into acquaintance and intimacy with a vast number of 
 great German names — Niebuhr, Stolberg, Neander, Schleier- 
 macher, Jacobi, and a hundred others, and their and his 
 letters are given. And the book lets one into the real 
 feelings and workings of all those wild German thinkers, 
 whose proceedings startle and astonish us so much. It 
 shows us their domestic and undress side, and certainly, to 
 my mind, abates the strong dislike and condemnation which 
 we have been taught is the right thing to feel towards them. 
 I don't mean that it reconciles me to their way of going on ; 
 but it does make one feel how very much without real 
 knowledge has been a great deal of the broad abuse of 
 Germanism that goes on ; and how much real goodness, and 
 often strong religious feeling there has been in quarters 
 among them, where it has been d priori assumed to be 
 incompatible with their speculative opinions. . . . 
 
 N 
 
178 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTEES paet 
 
 It is a book wMch. seems to have made me, in a sort of 
 way, personally acquainted with a set of people who have 
 been soundly abused without our knowing much about them ; 
 and to have shown that whatever there was unsatisfactory, 
 among them, it was certainly accompanied with a real height, 
 and nobleness, and goodness, for which we have given them 
 sparing credit. I should like to hear the impression the 
 book made on you, though I fear it is too long, and in parts 
 too prosy to suit you. 
 
 17ft February 1857. 
 
 I have been reading Helps' Conquest on your recommenda- 
 tion. It is a curiously told story — as if it was being told 
 with all the narrator's little private ways of allusion or 
 remark — but very interesting. There is something very 
 dreadful in the apparent inevitableness of the catastrophe to 
 the poor Indians. And what a curious double development 
 of the Spanish character in such people as the Governor 
 Ovando, and the Dominican monk Antonio, who broke into 
 the king's presence to plead for the Indians, and abused his 
 Franciscan rival into coming over to his side. 
 
 I quite feel with you about this horrid Chinese business. 
 It seems perfectly incredible, on the face of what we know, 
 that such things should have been allowed to go on, as this 
 bombardment of Canton. One cannot help doubting whether 
 we can know the whole case ; and yet if there was more to 
 be said I suppose it would have appeared. I have no doubt 
 that the Chinese are very provoking gentry, and I suppose 
 that the original cause of quarrel will soon be entirely out of 
 sight ; but what a case it is of a war on " false pretences." 
 
 So your Board is to be broken up. Well, I suppose that 
 you feel that it is a euthanasia, and you have the "special 
 satisfaction of coming to an end after work well done, only 
 
II WHATLEY 179 
 
 because there is no more of it for you to do. All Boards do 
 not end so flourishingly nowadays. 
 
 I wish I could send the medicine you ask about for an 
 anti-talking-to-poor-people diathesis. After four years' trial 
 I find it as strong in myself as ever, i.e. I know as little how 
 to go about it satisfactorily, and still read with wonder and 
 admiration any small book which describes the easy-going, 
 glib, persuasive way in which the typical parson is painted 
 talking to the members of his flock. To me they seem to 
 live in impenetrable shells of their own ; now and then you 
 seem to pinch them or please them, but I can never find out 
 the rule that either goes by. I think sometimes whether 
 one ought not to give up reading, and aU communication 
 with the world one has been accustomed to, in order to try 
 and get accustomed to theirs — but this does not seem a 
 promising plan either. I hope that something tells, though 
 one does not see the way how. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 E. W. 0. 
 
 To Manuel Johnson, Esq. 
 
 Whatlet, 15th March 1858. 
 Dear Observer — I wish I could have run up to-day, if 
 only to see Le Verrier, for perhaps I should not have seen 
 the eclipse ^ better tlian we did here. Here it was a bad 
 failure. The morning promised fairly — a lot of cirro-stratus 
 clouds about, but the sun shining in and out of them nicely. 
 But at eleven a thick layer of cumulo-stratus began to come 
 over, covering up most of the sky, with a rapid scud under- 
 neath ; still this was sufficiently broken from time to time 
 to see the sun. I observed the first contact at 11.32, as far 
 
 ^ A total eclipse of the sun wliioh took place on the 15th March 1858. 
 
180 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 as I could judge, but our clocks are not very trustworthy. 
 The sun was visible in and out, with scud rapidly flying 
 across, till about 12.15, when the clouds thickened, became 
 more continuous, and seemed lowering, and there were no 
 breaks. At 12.30 I just caught sight of the sun for a 
 moment three-fourths covered ; but there was no perceptible 
 darkening, more than would seem natural with such a 
 clouded sky ; at 12.35 the cloud was of a uniform texture, 
 dark grey, especially in the north. Then there came on a 
 thickish damp mist, and the wind increased, as if raiu was 
 coming ; but none came, only it felt very cold and damp. 
 There was a kind of grey dimness like evening ; I did not 
 notice the stillness that is talked of — perhaps, however, 
 because the wind was freshening. But the rooks seemed 
 puzzled, and to be thinking of going home to MeUs Park. 
 There was a slightly lighter patch in the cloud where the 
 sun was. Just about one o'clock there seemed to pass 
 through the rooms and the house a rapidly-increasiog dark- 
 ness ; my wife, sitting in a north room, had to leave off 
 writing ; and it came on so suddenly, that it suggested the 
 idea of some startling change being impending, quite different 
 from anything which seemed to have been preparing outside. 
 But it was not more than a minute. Just after, about 1.2 
 the sun was again visible through the scud, about three- 
 quarters of a ring, but the upper and left-hand portion was 
 gone. It appeared and disappeared for a few minutes, and 
 then the grey uniform cloud covered it up again ; and before 
 1.15 everything had got back to the grey misty look which 
 it had just before the short burst of gloom, which, however, 
 at its deepest was not deeper than I have seen caused by a 
 summer thunderstorm. About 1.45 the mist disappeared, 
 and it became merely grey stratus, with scud flying rapidly 
 
II WHATLEY 181 
 
 across its face. Then the stratus began to break up and give 
 patches of lighter colour, and at 2.7 I caught the sun again, 
 and watched the disappearance of the moon's limb. It 
 seemed to leave, the sun at 2.11. Thus there was no oppoi-- 
 tunity of seeing any of the sights which Mr. Hind and Airy 
 had set us on looking out for ; of observing the change of 
 colour in the sky, for no sky was visible during the whole 
 time, the sun being seen only through thin clouds ; or of 
 noting the effect in bringing the horizon near, for there was 
 a thick mist apparently all round the distance, and slightly 
 even near. After all my lecturing to my school children out 
 of Mr. Hind I am afraid they must have thought me a hum- 
 bug ; for though the effect was striking, it was not more so 
 than the closing in of evening, except just in that rapid 
 darkening which came on for a minute and then went off 
 again. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, R. W. 0. 
 
 An amusing sequel to the disappointment caused on 
 the day of the eclipse by the overclouded sky is given 
 in a letter to Dr. Gray : — "In our neighbouring country 
 town some one sent the common crier round to announce 
 that, in consequence of the disappointment, the eclipse 
 would be repeated next day. I don't know what effect 
 the announcement had, I only know that the bellman 
 took the fee, and very solemnly went round the town to 
 cry the intelligence." 
 
 To Dk. Asa Gbat. 
 
 Dennil Hill, Chepstow, 5th July 1859. 
 My dear Professor Gray — I have received the extracts 
 from the Proceedings of the American Academy of Arts and 
 
182 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTEKS paut 
 
 Sciences, containing an abstract of your discussion with. 
 Agassiz on tlie distribution of species. A layman like 
 myself, very destitute of facts, can only follow such a dis- 
 cussion in a kind of hypothetical way. But the interest it 
 excites is enough to make me wish that I had time to know 
 more about it. What a world it carries one back to ! — and 
 to what an inconceivable condition of things, compared with 
 ail that we are familiar with, when we come to speculate on 
 the laws and phenomena which prevailed in the creative 
 periods of time. It certainly strikes me that your view, as 
 a theory to be tried, is the one to take, instead of Agassiz's, 
 which simply amounts to taking species as they are found, 
 without any inquiry as to their possible previous history. 
 With the indications of afSnities and vicissitudes in the 
 history of species which there are, it is more philosophical 
 to see if they will bear being traced out into a simple con- 
 nection with each other. But the strangeness of creation, 
 whether in many distant centres or one, whether by an 
 individual or pair, or by a whole family at once, seems 
 equally overwhelming to our present faculties and thoughts. 
 And I am not quite sure that I feel the probability of 
 Maupertuis' law of economy of power. The waste of nature 
 seems to me at least as striking ; apparent waste, I ought to 
 have said, like that, e.g. of seeds or of unimpregnated ova, 
 which do not seem to fulfil their direct purpose, though of 
 course they may some other. But I am rambling on, and 
 talking about what I know nothing of. You must please 
 excuse it, for it has been suggested by your paper, which has 
 stirred up my wish to know what I don't know. 
 
 You will see by my address that I am not in my usual 
 abode. I am enjoying a three months' holiday from my 
 parish work, and am here with my family, in a place made 
 
II WHATLEY 183 
 
 for a delightful summer idleness. We live in a house 
 perched up on the cliffs which overhang the Wye, just 
 opposite the Wyndcliflf ; and with a glorious view of the 
 meeting of the Severn and the Wye among grey rocks and 
 densely wooded banks, with the river twisting about in all 
 kinds of curious bends, and within reach of fine ruins like 
 Tintern, Chepstow Castle, and Raglan. I have not had a 
 holiday since I have been at Whatley, some six years ; and 
 last year I was very much out of health and condition. But 
 I am fast mending now, and I hope to be set up quite for 
 such work as I have at home ; not hard work, certainly, but 
 with a good deal of quiet sameness and monotony about it, 
 which, to my shame be it spoken, seems to have the same 
 exhausting effect after a time as a downright speU of 
 fagging. . . . 
 
 The other day at Oxford I saw your handwriting in a 
 letter to the widow of my very dear friend, Manuel Johnson,! 
 of the EadclifFe Observatory. I was very much gratified at 
 seeing how much he was appreciated among you ; he did 
 indeed deserve it. A nobler mind, a larger heart, I never 
 knew. 
 
 Whatley, 12tk March 1860. 
 
 I have to thank you for some very interesting papers. I 
 have received two abstracts of papers on the distribution of 
 plants in North-East Asia and America ; and, lately, your 
 review of Darwin.^ And I have also received your note 
 accompanying the review. 
 
 I thought of you when Darwin's book came out. ... I 
 am particularly pleased to see that it has engaged your 
 attention, and to be able to read your views about it. I 
 
 ^ Mr. Johnson's death had taken place in February 1859. 
 ^ Darwin's Origin of Species. 
 
184 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 have not had time yet to do more than glance at the book 
 itself. But, of course, it would he impossible to read the 
 papers, and hear people talk, without knowing, in general, 
 the line he takes, and the nature of his argument. I believe 
 I must confess that I owe my first interest in the subject to 
 the once famous Vestiges; and I remember thinking at the 
 time it came out, that the line taken against it was un- 
 philosophical and unsatisfactory ; and that people wrote 
 against it in much too great a fright, as to the consecLuences 
 of the theory, and answered him often more like old ladies 
 than philosophers. Mr. Darwin's book, partly from the 
 greater gravity and power of the writer, and partly from, I 
 think, a little more wisdom in the public, has not made 
 such an outcry. Perhaps it is not so popular in style, and 
 so widely read ; but I should think that it is the book of 
 science which has produced most impression here qf any that 
 has appeared for many years. As far as I have any right to 
 judge, I entirely concur with the line of your criticism. I 
 mean, that to a bystander, whose notions of the probabiHties 
 and the evidence of the difficult and complicated case are 
 most vague and imperfect, it is most refreshing to see it so 
 calmly and wisely examined, both in respect to the strong 
 points of the theory, and its still more (at present) formidable 
 difficulties. And you seem to me to have stated with the 
 happiest precision and fairness just exactly what is true to 
 say of its bearing on theology. One wishes such a book to he 
 more explicit. But it is wonderful " shortness of thought " 
 to treat the theory itself as incompatible with the ideas of a 
 higher and spiritual order. 
 
 The idea of cross-fertilisation is new to me, and very 
 curious, and, as you say, brings us a new step nearer to the 
 understanding of that economy of nature, which yet, however, 
 
II WHATLEY 185 
 
 after all, has such a large margin of apparent prodigality. 
 The spring always brings back this thought to me — or rather, 
 the combination of such extreme regularity, delicacy, and 
 economy, with what seems the roughest and coarsest methods 
 — a continual creation out of ruins. 
 
 I am very glad you have had the grand opportunity of 
 carrying further your comparisons of geographical botany. 
 The fact you have got out of it is very remarkable. The 
 line of investigation you have entered on must be singularly 
 attractive, with all the promise of large discovery looming 
 through it. I think that that condition of investigation 
 must be a great inducement to physical studies. It hardly 
 exists, or at least is accompanied with much heavier risks and 
 drawbacks in the more exclusively mental ones. — Yours very 
 sincerely, E. W. Chukch. 
 
 In 1860 appeared the famous volume of Essays and 
 Reviews ; and the storm about it was already gathering, 
 though the full vehemence of the outbreak did not come 
 till somewhat later. The following letter refers to a 
 general criticism upon the book, which Dr. Moberly 
 proposed prefixing to a volume of sermons he was about 
 to bring out : — 
 
 To Db. Moberly. 
 
 Whatlet, \Wh S^temher 1860. 
 I have read your Preface with great interest, but with 
 divided feelings as to the expediency of publishing it. I 
 should like it to be published for the sake of many things in 
 it. On the other hand, it does not go fuUy enough into 
 others to satisfy people who will be looking out for satisfac- 
 tion ; and in noticing a book of this kind it is a question 
 
186 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 whether anything but a tolerably complete answer does not 
 give advantage to the other side. 
 
 It seems to me that this is a book for a point-blank 
 answer : I mean that it is not enough to point out, as you 
 truly do, the way in which it shakes to pieces the faith of 
 ordinary Christians ; but for any effect to be produced, the 
 main things said must be met face to face, and their real 
 value and significance duly measured. 
 
 The guerilla way in which these men write, each man 
 fighting for his own hand, though with a common purpose, 
 or, at least, result, makes a fair point-blank answer doubly 
 diflcult ; but I think it is the only one that wiU tell, and so 
 the only one worth making. 
 
 Wiat is the human element in Scripture ? What is its 
 real amount ? How is it to be viewed 1 How is it to be 
 distinguished from the Divine element 1 These men treat it 
 so as to exclude the Divine almost entirely ; but I see no 
 way of stopping them, except by meeting the c[uestion they 
 have raised, as far as the bounds of our knowledge enable us 
 to do so.. Of course there are other questions raised (among 
 them, and very painfully handled, the question of the 
 necessity of having any truth, at least any historical truth, to 
 heUeve in at alV) ; but the main thing seems to me, that we 
 must meet them on a ground which has become inevitable 
 almost, that of actual historical criticism ; and that their 
 power lies in their being left alone in possession of it. 
 
 The upshot, as far as I know my own opinion, is, that I 
 should like to have many things in your Preface published : 
 — your general criticism on their design and way of putting 
 out diflculties (though perhaps I should feel obliged to be 
 more merciful in my own speech about them, and the amount 
 of religious feeling which, in spite of aU, I believe most of 
 
II WHATLEY 187 
 
 them to have at bottom) ; your criticism on Jowett's crude 
 and one-sided canon of interpretation ; and the particular 
 arguments, e.g. that on Infant Baptism at the end of the 
 Preface. And also, I quite feel the importance of people of 
 weight not shrinking from speaking out their disapproval, 
 even though they do not feel called on to enter the lists 
 themselves. But, on the other hand, I had rather that, if 
 you do attack them controversially, it should be in a more 
 deliberate and less perfunctory manner than can be done in a 
 Preface. 
 
 I hope I have not been very impertinent. I feel in 
 writing about these great and, as yet, almost unsounded 
 questions, that a person with my want of clearness of head, 
 and of readiness of memory — not to say, also, scanty and 
 piecemeal knowledge — is almost like a landsman giving 
 advice on board a ship in a storm. Certainly every age has 
 its fiery trials of faith. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 E. W. C. 
 
 To Dr. Asa Gkat. 
 
 WiiATLEy, 2Sth March 1861. 
 I have had it on my mind for a long time that I have 
 never thanked you for the last paper you sent me about 
 Darwin. I don't know why it should seem a more formidable 
 undertaking to sit down and write a letter which is to go 
 across the Atlantic than one which is to go to London. But 
 imagination certainly does invest the work with a kind of 
 gravity, as if it required some peculiar preparation and effort 
 of mind ; and imagination is a powerful disposer of the 
 actions of life. To-day, however, I have at length got the 
 better of the tyrant, and now I don't find that there is any 
 good reason to allege for my having been so dilatory. I read 
 
188 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 your paper with very great interest, as indeed I have done 
 all that you have written upon the subject. The more I 
 think of it, the more I feel persuaded of the " shortness of 
 thought " which would make out what is in itself a purely 
 physical hypothesis on the mode of creation or origination 
 (in which it seems to me very difficult at present to imagine 
 our hnowvng anything), to be incompatible with moral and 
 religious ideas of an entirely different order. But I am 
 afraid that this is the general way of thinking among our 
 religious people ; and so the theory does not get fair discus- 
 sion, either for or against, because there is on both sides an 
 irresistible tacit reference to other interests in the minds of 
 disputants. You seem to me to have cleared the way for a 
 fair discussion of it on its merits and evidence. The book, 
 I have no doubt, would be the subject still of a great row, if 
 there were not a much greater row going on about Essays and 
 Reviews. It is not wonderful that this book should have 
 caused much consternation. It seems to me, with many 
 good and true things in it, to be a reckless book ; and several 
 of the writers have not got their thoughts and theories into 
 such order and consistency as to warrant their coming before 
 the world with such revolutionary views. But there has been 
 a great deal of unwise panic, and unjust and hasty abuse ; and 
 people who have not an inkling of the difficulties which beset 
 the questions, are for settling them in a summary way, which 
 is perilous for every one. However, I hope the time of 
 protest and condemnation is now passing away; and the 
 time of examination and discussion in a quieter tone 
 beginning. 
 
 The great subject of my thoughts and interest for the last 
 four months has been the course of events among yourselves. 
 To my mind, it quite throws into the shade the nearer, and, 
 
n WHATLEY 189 
 
 at first sight, more striking events in Italy. It seems to 
 touch an Englishman's feelings as a quarrel between North 
 and South in England. As it has come to this, I am inclined 
 to be an optimist about it, and to think that it is a case 
 where separation, when once accepted, may make both parts 
 greater, though there are very formidable necessities involved 
 in the fundamental conditions under which the South begins 
 its new development. 
 
 Pray remember me very kindly to Mrs. Gray. In hope 
 stiU to see you some day here, I am yours very sincerely, 
 
 R. W. Chubch. 
 
 In the summer of 1861 occurred the first step, after 
 the long silence of fifteen years, towards a renewal of in- 
 tercourse with Dr. Newman : — 
 
 To THE Rev. W. J. Copeland. 
 
 Whatlbt, 2nd August 1861. 
 
 I should have answered your letter before, but I have 
 been away from home, and going away always involves a 
 little more to do on coming back. I wish you gave a better 
 account of yourself. . . . Don't you think you could spare 
 a few days and run down here 1 I should be very glad to 
 see you, and it would be very pleasant to have some talk 
 about old days. I, too, am getting to feel old, and almost 
 something of a survivor, but this is nothing, I suppose, to 
 what one must look forward to, if one lives long enough. 
 
 I have had just the same sort of little passing remem- 
 brances from Newman. He sent me a book belonging to 
 W. H. Scott ; and then a letter or so passed, very like his 
 old self, with not much of his present position. To be sure 
 
190 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 the world has not heen grateful among our Roman brethren 
 any more than among ourselves. I often wish, as you say, 
 that I had Boswellised. But unhappily, or happily, I didn't 
 And I often think with wonder, how much I should be 
 puzzled if I were called on to draw up a sketch of those 
 times and doings. Seeing things too close is almost as much 
 an impediment to taking them in altogether, as seeing them 
 too far off. They have left their stamp and general impres- 
 sion. But I mourn over the utterly faded details. 
 
 A foreign holiday, the first for fifteen years — spent 
 partly in and about Grenoble, and partly in Paris — 
 revived the old delight in travelling, a delight 'which 
 found expression in the descriptions of his letters home : — 
 
 To HIS Wife. 
 
 Grenoble, 11th May 1862. 
 Grenoble is a great success. The railway branching off 
 from the Rhone at a place called St Rambert brings one by 
 a surprise into the heart of the mountains, and rushes, 
 twisting about and going down most unrailway-like descents, 
 till it brings you into a rich green flat valley plain, with 
 high sharp tooth-like crags all round it, and the snowy 
 summits beyond them, — so far only half disclosed through 
 the trooping clouds which cling to them, or slowly float along 
 them. This valley is of the shape of a Y : down one horn 
 comes twisting about in a snake -like fashion the Isfere ; 
 down the other, much straighter, the Drac, and they join 
 just below Grenoble. The feature of the country is the 
 mixture of rich green luxuriance with the ragged rocky 
 mountain outlines, and the snowy tops in the background. 
 
11 WHATLEY 191 
 
 The lower mountain buttresses come down straight into the 
 plain ; they are formed of strata turned up at a very high 
 angle, and so their edges are ragged and jagged in the most 
 picturesque manner. They are detached also for the most 
 part from one another, and so form a series of ever-changing 
 forms as you change your point of view. It is a glorious 
 place certainly. There is a kind of rocky citadel on one of 
 these shoulders of rock, commanding the town, and I went 
 up there this morning accompanied by a talkative and 
 pleasant French sergeant, and had a grand view over the 
 nearer scenery. We ought to have looked up the valley of 
 the Isfere to Mont Blanc, but there the clouds were envious 
 and would not let us see him. This afternoon I had a 
 strolling climb in another direction, and was equally repaid : 
 a great wall of mountain behind me throwing the near fore- 
 ground into shadow, while beyond, a line of sunlight lay on 
 the green plain, and the city, and the white craggy citadel, 
 and then on the green range of slopes immediately bounding 
 the valley, and the purple curtain of snowy Alps, of which 
 the tops were confused with the great masses of white sun- 
 lit cloud ; the contrast being striking and beautiful, between 
 the white of the clouds, soft and like swan's down, and the 
 hard pure white of the patches of snow, seen at intervals 
 through the breaks in the clouds. 
 
 Grande Chartreuse, 16th May 1862. 
 I should like to write to you from this, one of the most 
 remarkable places I have ever been in. The road to it, 
 along the side of a torrent, the Guier Mort, is most magnifi- 
 cent ; but I am going to write to you my first impressions 
 of a real monastery. It lies on the steep slope of the moun- 
 tain, with great waU-like precipices rising above it almost all 
 
192 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 round ; where there are not rocks there are woods — all is stiU 
 as can be. The first sight of monastic life was a lay brother 
 in his white gown and hood of the Carthusian order, harness- 
 ing two horses to a carriage of some excursiorysts. I went 
 and rang at the bell, and was admitted by a smiling, pleasant 
 lad in a blouse, to whom I expressed my wish to see the 
 convent. I was conducted by him to an anteroom or 
 parlour, where, when we entered, was an old priest on his 
 knees at a prie-dieu, before a statue of Notre Dame, with S. 
 Bruno, the founder, bending before her. He got up when 
 we came in, and sat down. My guide knocked at the door 
 of the Pfere Coadjuteur, who is the receiver- general of 
 strangers. The rule of the house is absolute silence for all 
 the brethren, but this rule does not apply to him. The 
 door was not opened for a while, as he was engaged, but the 
 lad, in asking me to wait a little while, spoke in whispers, 
 and we all sat down in silence. The room was hung round 
 with a few prints of the life of S. Bruno, with a crucifix over 
 the fireplace. 
 
 At last the Pfere came out with another monk, with whom 
 he had been doing some business ; they bowed to each other 
 in taking leave, in the most solemn fashion, but with French 
 grace and courtesy. The dress is all white, coarse white 
 cloth, with a cowl and a curious strip down the back. The 
 Coadjuteur asked my business, and I asked leave to sleep 
 here to-night : they give hospitality to all comers, but of 
 course you are expected to pay for it. So, after a few com-' 
 pliments and bows, I was conducted to the waiting-room of 
 the strangers — the Hall of the Province of France — a stone- 
 paved hall, with numerous chairs and two or three tables, 
 where we are to dine. ... In this hall the silence was not 
 so complete ; two gargons, laying the table, chattered as if 
 
II WHATLEY 193 
 
 they were in a salle-A-manger. Presently a white monk in a 
 beard came in and asked me whether I would dine by my- 
 self or with the other strangers : he further brought me a 
 petit verre of a famous elixir which they are famous for 
 making here — recommending it after my walk. This was 
 the Frfere Benoit, as my guide, the lad who let me in, con- 
 fidentially informed me. 
 
 There is a stern, dreary look about everything, aU very 
 simple — chairs, tables, walls, windows, ceilings — but all in good 
 order, and they make you welcome. It is a regular show- 
 place in the fine weather ; a curious mixture of the show- 
 place and a monastic rule of the severest kind. We dined 
 in the strangers' hall, five of us — three Frenchmen and two 
 Englishmen, and spoke French to one another. They gave 
 us a fair dinner of maigre fare. The Frenchmen discoursed 
 largely on the tristesse of the monastic life, and criticised the 
 cuisine : the Englishmen ate and made no remarks. At nine 
 o'clock we found our way to our cells — ^very clean, brick- 
 floored, but rude in the furniture. I must go to bed, for I 
 am to be called at midnight, to be present at the night 
 service of the monastery. 
 
 ... I was called at a quarter before twelve, and ushered 
 into a gallery at the end of a longish vaulted chapel, at the 
 end of which burned the lamp before the Sacrament, and 
 into which were gliding white figures with lanterns and 
 caAdles. They took their places, and the service began, — 
 chanting in a slow, simple manner : where they knew the 
 particular part of it by heart the lights were put out — at 
 best they only gave enough light to read by. It was certainly 
 very solemn to think of these psalms breaking the utter 
 silence of the rocks and forests, and to think of this having 
 been done, almost without interruption in nearly the same 
 
194 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 manner, and on the same spot, for eiglit hundred years ; and 
 that every night of one's life these men get up at midnight 
 to chant them. The office was from twelve tiU two, when 
 they glided out again, and I went to bed tiU six. 
 
 Now I am preparing for an ascent to the Grand Som, the 
 highest peak near the convent. In the afternoon 1 mean to 
 make my way back to Grenoble. 
 
 Pakis, 21th May 1862. 
 
 One thing which strikes me in this place, in the grand 
 public buildings, is the free way in which the people use 
 them. At the Louvre, for instance, with all its grandeur 
 and magnificence, and so well so^?i^ besides — there are stone 
 seats all round, which are generally occupied by the men in 
 blouses and the women in caps ; and all about them are the 
 children of these people playing about the courts, just as they 
 play about the dirty alleys here or in London. The multitude 
 certainly has its full and fair share, not by favour, but as an 
 understood and familiar enjoyment, of the outside at least, of 
 the beauty of this great city. 
 
 I walked out this evening by the banks of the Seine, all 
 carefully and beautifully built up in quays and landing-places, 
 with the river itself so clear and calm — ^to the Champ de 
 Mars, a great review ground, where many strange things 
 were done in the Revolution and Napoleonic days. Then 
 I crossed the river, and came home by the Champs Elysdes, 
 a quarter, half trees and alleys, half buildings — dwelling- 
 houses, and also tea gardens and dancing places, which, as 
 far as I can make out, are the common resort of respectable 
 people and unrespectable. But the scene, in walking through 
 it, is utterly unlike anything we have in England. Lights 
 in all directions among the trees, lines of light marking rows 
 of houses, isolated lights at corners and cross roads, figures 
 
II WHATLEY 195 
 
 of lights, crowns, lyres, inscriptions, pyramids, where the 
 different gardens, and concert places, and caf6s, display their 
 attractions ; and in the midst of these stationary lights are 
 the innumerable lights — white, red, green, and blue — of all 
 the cabs, and carriages, and omnibuses, which are passing to 
 and fro, as thick as in Piccadilly at three o'clock. Then you 
 come to the Place de la Concorde, where the obelisk and the 
 statues, and the outlines of the adjoining buildings are lifted 
 up in the clear air ; and there you have the glitter, dimly seen, 
 and the whish and splash of the fountains. . . . The strange 
 thing is to think of what ground all these pleasure-seekers are 
 treading on. There, in that Place de la Concorde, all so gay 
 and beautiful, one can put one's foot exactly on the spot 
 where stood the guillotine of Louis XVI. ; and there, on the 
 other side of the obelisk, is that whence Marie Antoinette 
 might have looked along the avenue of horse-chestnuts up to 
 the central Pavilion of the Tuileries, one October morning, 
 for the last time. And there, besides, perished between two 
 and three thousand persons. Yet it all looks so smiling, and 
 given up to the fine arts and gaiety. 
 
 Paris, ZOth May 1862. 
 The rain has begun and it has been showery aU day, 
 with intervals of sunshine. So I have been at the galleries 
 for the most part. This evening, in the intervals of the 
 showers, I strolled up to the place where Louis XVI. and 
 Marie Antoinette were buried after their execution. It was 
 then an out-of-the-way cemetery attached to the parish of the 
 Madeleine, and there they were thrown in anyhow, and, I 
 believe, quicklime thrown over the bodies. The place was 
 afterwards, it is said, bought by a royalist, who turned it 
 into an orchard, by way of turning away any suspicions ; 
 but he kept note of where the bodies were laid. Then at 
 
196 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 the Restoration, what was to be found was removed to St. 
 Denis, and the ground purchased, and a Ohapelle Expiatoire 
 built on it. It is somehow one of the gloomiest places I 
 remember seeing ; surrounded by dead walls or high houses, 
 with just a border of ivy running round the ground ; and 
 then a ponderously heavy building, a sort of cloister and 
 chapel, enclosing the old burying-place, with great iron posts 
 and iron chains fencing it round, and the arches of the cloisters 
 as deep and heavy as they could be made. No doubt it was 
 not meant to have all this gloomy look ; but if any one 
 had planned to convey all the melancholy and hopeless ideas 
 connected with the fall of the old monarchy in the Place de 
 la Concorde by embodying them in a dismal and dreary 
 monument, he could not have succeeded better than Louis 
 XVIII. has done in this case. One street that I pass 
 continually is the street down which the carts passed to 
 the place of execution ; and the street leading to the Chapelle 
 Expiatoire is the one up which the carts with the bodies 
 must have come. And now all is so different, and yet all is 
 marked with the tokens and suggestive memorials of what was 
 done then. The people you meet are the grandchildren — and 
 some the children — of those who died and suffered those things. 
 
 Paeis, Ascension Say, 1862. 
 Ascension Day is a great holiday, greater than any 
 ordinary Sunday, and aU Paris is on its legs pleasure- 
 hunting. There is fuU service at Mr. Gurney's chapel as 
 on Sundays, which adds to the confusion in which one gets 
 as to the day, as if it was Sunday and not Sunday. I went 
 to the 8.30 early Communion ; then I meant to spend the 
 middle of the day between the Invalides and the Jardin des 
 Plantes ; but when I went to the Invalides, where the tomb 
 of Napoleon is, Thursday being one of the days for seeing it, 
 
II WHATLEY 197 
 
 I found that as it was Ascension Day there was a grand 
 military Mass at noon, at which the Governor, Marshal 
 Somebody, and no end of military grandees, were present. 
 This would take some time, and there was besides such a 
 crowd of holiday-makers, that one of the soldiers I spoke to 
 advised me to come, another day, when I could see things 
 more quietly. The military Mass was curious. The Governor 
 and his suite were escorted to the church by a number of 
 the Invalides, old battered fellows in long great-coats and 
 caps, holding drawn swords. In the church there was a long 
 double line of these same old veterans, holding pikes with 
 tricoloured flags ; and up this lane the Governor marched 
 to his seat, the drummers beating furiously in the church, 
 and the soldiers all keeping their hats or caps on, and the 
 word of command being given as vigorously as on parade. 
 When the Governor was seated, and the veterans, who look 
 very like Chelsea pensioners, had grounded their pikes and 
 flags, the service began — all the music being performed by 
 the military band, the drums being very prominent The 
 priest at the altar seemed lost in the military array ; and 
 certainly all the religious part of the ceremony was completely 
 obscured by the braying and thumping of the military music. 
 It seemed to create a good deal of interest in the crowd which 
 flocked into the church. Along each side of the walls hung 
 a long array of flags taken in battle, in all stages of decay, 
 faintly waving with the light air currents. Among them I 
 noticed two or three English, one apparently a ship's ensign. 
 There were many Spanish, and doubtless, though I could 
 not make out more than one or two, a number of Austrian. 
 I was rather amused with the glee with which one or two 
 of the groups of holiday-makers," who had come to look at 
 the church, singled out the big English ensign. 
 
198 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 To THE Eev. C. M. Church. 
 
 Paris, 1st June 1862. 
 I have spent to-day at Meaux, Bossuet's see and burial- 
 place ; it is about l| hour from Paris on tbe Strasburg line. 
 The road to it is rather pretty. It soon strikes the Marne, 
 and follows it to Meaux. The Marne flows first (going from 
 Paris) through fine grass fields with lines of poplars, very 
 rich, and almost rank in vegetation ; and then by wooded 
 heights, looking something like wild Nunehams. At one 
 reach of the river there was a pretty sailing-boat, cleanly and 
 sharply built, and fairly cutter-rigged, only with sails cut 
 too broad aloft, beating up the river to a fine bridge, and 
 looking very Isis like. The road also passes through a very 
 pretty bit of woodland, with walks cut through it, part of 
 the confiscated Orleans property, now to be sold in building 
 lots for petites maisons de ccmvpagne, which abound on the line. 
 The approach to Meaux is pleasing ; the cathedral stands on 
 high ground, and with its remaining west tower and high 
 roof dominates over the town. The church is internally 
 very good, far better than one expected of a cathedral of 
 which Bossuet had been bishop, for somehow there seems a 
 fitness that it should be a grand renaissance or Louis XIV. 
 sort of building. But, on the contrary, it is a singularly 
 pure and beautiful geometrical decorated church ; within 
 two feet as high inside as Notre Dame ; with a number of 
 round columnar piers, of the transition between Eomanesque 
 and pointed, and with the main features of the tracery and 
 mouldings, as I said, of a very beautiful geometrical kind. 
 The middle aisle is broad, and there are two side aisles on 
 each side, besides the lateral chapels between the wide 
 buttresses. It looks very tidy and clean, without looking 
 
II WHATLEY 199 
 
 new, of the hue of the stone of Winchester ; and there are 
 remarkably few altars in it. . . . The wainscotting of the 
 choir is of the age of Bossuet, and the bishop's throne ; and 
 what is still more interesting, the pulpit is the one in which 
 he preached ; it has the date of 1621 on it, before his time. 
 It is really not much larger than our Whatley pulpit, which 
 it resembles in general design, except that it has an angel 
 with a trumpet on the sounding board. They say that his 
 grave was not disturbed at the Revolution. There is a 
 modern monument, something of the CyrU Jackson style, 
 put up in 1820. But, on the whole, there is the cathedral 
 much as it was when he presided in it. The bishop's palace 
 is close by, enclosed by the old town walls, with their round 
 bastions, beneath which is a boulevard on the site of the old 
 town ditch. I went into the gardens, pretty, with pleached 
 alleys running round flower-beds and kitchen garden ; but 
 the interesting part is on the old city rampart. Here 
 Bossuet built himself a study and a bedchamber, which have 
 been put in order, and are probably much like what they 
 were in his day, wainscotted and parquetted. This is on 
 one of the round bastions ; while along the curtain beyond 
 is a yew-tree walk, clipped and thick, with little windows 
 cut in it, like a wall of green, in which, it is said (and I think 
 also reported by his nephew or editor), that he used to walk 
 and meditate, and harangue to a train of followers. The 
 place altogether is very taking, most tranquil, and up on the 
 wall most retired ; and there is an air of neatness and ease 
 about the town, or at least this quarter of it, which is very 
 pleasing. The contrast is wonderful to Paris ; I can hardly 
 believe myself back again this evening. . . . — Yours affec- 
 tionately, B. W. Church. 
 
200 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 To De. Asa Gray. 
 
 Whatlbt, 19th Janua/ry 1864. 
 
 Dear Dr. Gray — It was very tind of you to give me 
 part of your Christmas Day. It is always a great pleasure 
 to me to see your handwriting. 
 
 ... I congratulate you on your prospect of getting a 
 permanent habitation and ownership for your collections.^ 
 It must be something like the feeling of having at last well 
 and happily bestowed a favourite child- in marriage. There 
 is nothing sadder, I think, in any kind of collecting, than 
 the feeling of uncertainty as to what will become of things 
 on which we have spent our love as well as our money and 
 pains. In such things as favourite books, which one knows 
 by look and feel, and which bear the marks of our converse 
 with them in disfiguring pencil marks and notes, it is really 
 quite painful to think into whose indifferent and unworthy 
 hands they may have to come. And of course this must be 
 much more the case, where a collection has something of a 
 unique character, and is intrinsically precious. So I cam 
 quite feel that you must have a weight off your mind in 
 being able to look forward to your plants and books remain- 
 ing as you have known them, and placed them — together 
 and in a place where they wiU not lose their interest, and 
 where your gift of them will always be remembered with 
 peculiar interest. 
 
 ... So you have heard of my small piece of amhition,^ 
 and ambition disappointed. It was a curious little adventure 
 while it was going on. In my private heart I am very glad 
 
 ' A hertarium and botanical library which Dr. Gray had presented 
 to Harvard University. 
 
 " The Professorship of Eoolesiastioal History at Oxford. 
 
n WHATLEY 201 
 
 that I had not to leave this place, where I have taken fast 
 root ; and a very good man has been appointed. Bnt some 
 friends, who had a good right to expect their recommenda- 
 tions attended to, were disappointed ; and for their sakes I 
 am sorry. It was Lord Shaftesbury against Gladstone ; and 
 Lord Shaftesbury for the time had Lord Palmerston's ear ; 
 and besides, he had to object that in the old days of the 
 Oxford Movement I had been a great friend of Newman's. 
 However, I am quite satisfied. . . . — Ever yours very 
 sincerely, E. W. Church. 
 
 Kingsley's attack on Newman, which drew from the 
 latter his Apologia, was an occasion to rouse all the 
 old affectionate loyalty of Mr. Newman's friends. From 
 this time, down to Cardinal Nevnnan's death in 1890, 
 the correspondence was resumed on the old footing of 
 intimacy and freedom. 
 
 To THE Rev. W. J. Oopeland. 
 
 "Whatlet, 26<A A:[n^ 1864. 
 
 Dear Copbland — I heard yesterday from Newman, 
 asking me to look over sheets, which of course I will gladly 
 do. It must be very painful for him to have to go over all 
 this ground again. I cannot help wishing that he had 
 spared himself, or at any rate that he had left Kingsley 
 alone, and said what was to be said without mixing it up 
 with his quarrel with Kingsley. But he knows better than 
 I do what best becomes him. 
 
 The truth is, he has a hard task before him. . . . When 
 the whole question comes to be opened afresh, as to what 
 people who don't agree with Newman are to think of the 
 legitimacy of the position which he took up, while coming 
 
202 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 round to be what they so shrink from and dislike, it will be 
 a hard matter to make explanations which wiU satisfy even 
 candid ones among them. There is nothing so trying and 
 so hard in the world as the position of a man who is chang- 
 ing his views, and doing so with due time, and deliberation, 
 and caution. The more careful and conscientious and 
 hesitating he is, the more people insist on flinging charges 
 of dishonesty and inconsistency against him. If Newman's 
 Apologia to the British public succeeds in bringing them 
 round to judge him fairly, he will have accomplished a 
 remarkable feat. He can do it if any man can ; but he runs 
 a risk. You see how the row has brought out a man like 
 * * * to have his shy. The public and the personal ques- 
 tions are so intermixed, that every one who is afraid of Rome, 
 or dislikes it, will think himself bound to pronounce against 
 Newman. But he must go on, and we must help him as 
 well as we can. — Ever yours aSectionately, R. W. 0. 
 
 To THE Rev. J. B. Mozley. 
 
 "Whatlet, Srd February 1865. 
 
 Dear Mozley — Thank you for youi brother's account. 
 How very well he does it. He brings out so well the points 
 of Stanley's manner : his rhetorical skill, his aggressive and 
 defiant pluck, his desperate determination to claim every- 
 thing and everybody with life in them as on his side. And 
 then, after all, what is his side ? What is this nineteenth- 
 century religion for which all things have been preparing, 
 and to which all good things, j)ast and present, are sub- 
 servient and bear witness 1 
 
 I saw him in town last week ; we went and drank five- 
 o'clock tea with him, and found him in great force. He 
 
II WHATLET 203 
 
 showed us over the Deanery, and had his historical anecdotes 
 for each hole and corner. His wife is very pleasant, and 
 nothing can he hetter apparently than the manage. But he 
 seems to me in the position of a prophet and leader, fuU of 
 eagerness and enthusiasm and brilliant talent, all heightened 
 by success — ^but without a creed to preach. I suppose he 
 would say that testifjang for liberty and the love of truth 
 and tolerance is a sufficient creed. But at any rate it can be 
 only to inteUeotual people, and the world in general is not of 
 that sort. 
 
 I wish I could come and talk with you about your 
 subject,! and then hear you. I don't think you need fear 
 that your subject is one of which all that has to be said has 
 already been said. Stanley's insensibility to the immeasur- 
 able difference that miracle or no miracle makes in our ideas 
 of religion has always struck me as the most singular mark 
 of his want of depth. The course would be worth preaching, 
 if only to impress on people's minds how much turns on 
 miracle. I should like to have other talks with you also, 
 e.g. this Pinal Appeal Court business, about which I cannot 
 satisfy myself at all. I do not like clerical judges ; and if 
 there is to be a creed at all, this legal way of dealing with 
 
 theology reduces it to an absurdity. 
 
 lUh June 1865. 
 
 I could not get up to Oxford at the time when I thought 
 of going. I suppose that you have done your work for the 
 University, and will soon be addressing the general public- 
 When do you publish % 
 
 I was in London for a couple of days last week at Rogers', 
 and met Newman, who was staying there. He had come 
 for Manning's consecration. It was the first time I had seen 
 
 ' Bampton Lectures for 1865. 
 
204 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 him for twenty years nearly. He was very little clianged 
 in look or general manner or way of talking, except that he 
 seemed almost stronger in body. He was in good spirits, 
 very hearty, and talked very freely about all sorts of things ■ 
 reminding ns every now and then that he was across the 
 border, but without embarrassment, and without any attempt 
 to flaunt anything in our faces. It was a much more easy 
 meeting than I could have supposed possible. We seemed 
 to fall into the old ways of talking. He talked about 
 Manning, and about his own position, and his differences of 
 views about education. He thought Manning had certainly 
 plans, but no one knew what they were ; it was clear, how- 
 ever, that Newman did not much expect them to be what he 
 would lay most stress upon. He spoke of the difficulty of 
 getting interest or money for anything but immediate objects ; 
 the poor, or the training of priests ; while literature, and 
 higher education, and the education of the laity, no one 
 cared much about or thought worth efforts. He spoke of 
 his own school at Birmingham, and of the effect of its 
 example in making the other schools, even the Jesuit schools, 
 less Continental in their ways and more English, as in trust- 
 ing boys and giving up espionnage. The effect was as if he 
 was working his own way, and giving up the general course 
 of affairs to Manning and those who went with the current. 
 
 Are you going to be at home all the summer ? — Ever 
 yours affectionately, E. W. C. 
 
 The frequent interchange of letters between himself 
 and Dr. Gray had added to the interest vrith which 
 Mr. Church had followed the varying fortunes of the 
 ci^dl war in America. At its conclusion he writes to 
 Dr. Gray : — 
 
n WHATLEY 205 
 
 To Dr. Asa Gray. 
 
 Whatlet, lat November 1865. 
 
 Your letter has been on. my conscience for a long while. 
 I hope that, though the reply to it has been so long in 
 coming, you will not think that the delay has been owing 
 to any indiflference on my part to the great subject of interest 
 of which it was full. Astonishing as the war was all through, 
 the most astonishing part of the whole has been the abrupt- 
 ness with which it has ended, and the rapidity with which 
 everything tended to settle down into peace. You have very 
 difficult questions before you. But, undoubtedly, you have 
 shown a power of meeting the great trials of a nation that 
 seems to me new in history. I hope with all my heart that 
 as you have begun so you will go on. Slavery is destroyed. 
 I cannot say that, beforehand, I should have said that this 
 was the way in which it had best be destroyed. But the 
 thing is done, and I earnestly trust that its consequences may 
 be controlled in the right direction. 
 
 Now that the actual excitement of the struggle is over, 
 the interest in American affairs is growing less in the news- 
 papers. But any one who has a conception of what history 
 means must feel, not only that the revolution through which 
 you have so wonderfully passed is without any parallel in 
 the story of the world, but that the spectacle of the recon- 
 struction of a nation is going on before us in even a more 
 astonishing form than when Washington and Hamilton first 
 laid the foundations of the Union. I only wish I had leisure, 
 knowledge, and opportunities to enable me to follow and 
 understand what, I feel, is the most marvellous political 
 phenomenon of the times I have lived in. 
 
 As you see, we have lost Palmerston. While he lived 
 
206 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 there was a tacit understaiiding that no internal battles of 
 consequence were to be fought or great issues raised. He 
 was like a great-grandpapa to the English political world, 
 whose age was to be respected, and whose vivacity, spirit, 
 and tact saved him from the fate of old men. Now he is 
 gone, and no one knows what is coming. I am a Conserva- 
 tive by instinct and feeling ; but there is at once a negative- 
 ness and barrenness, and also a fierceness, about the soi-disant 
 Conservative party which is not pleasant or hopeful. I 
 cannot imagine that they can ever govern unless things are 
 greatly changed. The great interest is to see how Gladstone 
 will comport himself. It is an awful time for him. The 
 " heart of all Israel is towards him." He is very great and 
 very noble. He has been the one man who has done any 
 effective work in Government lately. But he is hated as 
 much as, or more than he is loved. He is fierce sometimes, 
 and wrathful, and easily irritated ; he wants knowledge of 
 men, and speaks rashly. And I look on with some trembling 
 to see what will come of this his first attempt to lead the 
 Commons, and prove himseK fit to lead England. 
 
 Did you meet two friends of mine who were lately in 
 America, Gold win Smith and James Eraser? 
 
 Will you give my kind remembrances to Mrs. Gray. — 
 Yours very faithfully, R. W. Chukoh. 
 
 Mr. iCeble's death took place in April 1866, and 
 Mr. Churcli was one of the numerous gathering of 
 friends, new and old, which met at Hursley for his 
 funeral. Many memories were wakened by such a 
 return, of old days at Wiiichester with Dr. Moberly, 
 and at St. Cross with his stepfather's family, as well as 
 of visits to Hursley itself. 
 
II WHATLEY 207 
 
 To THE KbV. W. J. COPBLAND. 
 
 Whatlet, 1th April 1866. 
 
 I thought that perhaps I might see you yesterday at 
 Hursley, but I was not surprised not to see you. It was 
 more like a festival than anything else, though there was 
 black and white about. But the sun and the fresh keen air, 
 and the flowers just coming out, and the beauty of the place 
 and the church, and the completeness of that which had 
 come to its last stage here, put all the ordinary thoughts of 
 sorrow, not aside, but in a distinctly subordinate place. 
 There were some seventy or eighty people, I should think, 
 at the eight o'clock celebration, with him, in the midst of us, 
 once more in his chancel, and before the altar. At the 
 service and funeral itself the church was crowded, and 
 Rogers, Dean Hook, and I were glad to get a school children's 
 bench in the corner. Yet it was a strange gathering. There 
 was a meeting of old currents and new. Besides the people 
 I used to think of with Keble, there was a crowd of younger 
 men, who no doubt have as much right in him as we have, 
 in their way — Mackonochie, Lowder, and that sort. Excellent 
 good fellows, but who,, one could not help being conscious, 
 looked upon us as rather dark people, who don't grow beards, 
 and do other proper things. 
 
 Peter Young's account of the end was touching. He 
 thought that the anxiety about Mrs. Keble some three weeks 
 ago had overstrained him ; and when she began to rally, 
 then it began to tell on him. Thursday fortnight he got up 
 earlier than usual, and by mistake took a cold bath, which 
 should have been a warm one. In the course of the morning, 
 while reading the service to Mrs. Keble, he felt unwell, and 
 at last fainted. He came to himself again, and the doctors 
 
208 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 thought it a bilious attack, but it got worse. He began to 
 wander ; and then came erysipelas in the head. On Monday, 
 for the last time, he was removed from Mrs. Keble's room, 
 and she never saw him again. He thought, when he was 
 removed, that he was being taken to church, and knelt down 
 and said the Lord's Prayer. All the time of his wandering, 
 from which, I understand, when once it began he never 
 recovered, he was uttering fragments of prayers and hymns ; 
 and the last words heard from him were a verse of a Latin 
 hymn. At last he became entirely unconscious, tiU 1 a.m. 
 on Thursday week. They were anxious about the effect on 
 Mrs. Keble of the tidings. Her sister took a crucifixion, 
 which had been at the foot of his bed, and placed it at the 
 bottom of hers, and then she knew that he was gone, and 
 she burst out into deep thanks. But she was so ill that it 
 seemed probable that both would be buried together. But 
 it was not to be, though she is between life and death, and 
 cannot be here much longer. It is an end which could not 
 have been expected, that she should have been spared the 
 trouble of leaving him. 
 
 Pusey was there, but I am afraid very poorly, and not 
 able to come to the funeral itself. But I did not see many 
 faces that I knew, though the crowd was so great. — Ever 
 yours affectionately, E. W. 0. 
 
 Mr. Cturcli's first sight of Switzerland dates from 
 the autumn of 1866. From this time, until his power 
 of walking began to fail, no pleasure and refreshment 
 equalled that given by his yearly holiday in the Alps. 
 Writing to Dr. Newman a few years later he says: 
 " Do you know the Alps near ? I never did till two or 
 three years ago ; and now I feel crazy about them," 
 
II WHATLEY 209 
 
 To THE Rev. 0. M. Church. 
 
 NEnroHATBL, ISth September 1866. 
 We left Paris last night — slept tirongh. the old dull 
 Bourgogne,- and woke up with the morning light just before 
 Pontarlier. Tlie night and morning were as beautiful as each 
 could be, and served the remarkable railroad and its scenery 
 well. The look down over the broad plain of Burgundy to 
 the C6te d'Or, with the valley below, was very fine with the 
 first Bun just striking it. I was surprised at the uplands on 
 the top, sometimes looking like the wild parts of a park, 
 sometimes like Mendip and Dartmoor. The gorge with the 
 Fort de Joux is really fine, — something like Cheddar, with 
 a fort on the top. And the descent on Neufchatel through 
 the defile is wonderful as a bit of mere railway travelling, 
 and exceedingly beautiful besides. The trajet was diversified 
 with a painful spectacle. The village of Travers, near this, 
 from which the valley takes its name, had caught fire in the 
 night, and when we passed it had been nearly entirely 
 destroyed ; eighty or ninety houses gone, and smoking, with 
 a Use blowing up the valley ; the fields and roads about 
 strewn with the household furniture saved, and the people, 
 by the pile of things, homeless. Only two or three houses 
 seemed to have escaped. All the country side filled the 
 train to go to help or to see, and they told us that the people 
 would be lodged by the neighbouring villages. There were 
 some old people at the station who seemed crazy and out of 
 their senses with the blow. They had engines and plenty 
 of water. The popular view is that it is incendiarism, as 
 such fires have been abundant lately. I should think very 
 hot weather, shingle roofs, and an odd spark or two from 
 chimneys, was sufficient to account for it. But we saw one 
 
 P 
 
210 DEAK church's LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 fellow in custody, followed by a mob, who, no doubt, 
 assumed bis guilt. It was a sad sigbt coming on a vm/age 
 de plaisir. 
 
 We stayed bere to-day, tempted by tbe beautiful, and, to 
 both of us, perfectly new scene : a cloudless sky, a fresb 
 breeze capping tbe waves of tbe lake, and making it look as 
 mucb like sea as Soutbampton Water ; and beyond, gbostly, 
 yet cut clear, as if out of tbe very substance of tbe sky, tbe 
 Jungfrau and ber bretbren in front, and tbe dim snows of 
 Mont Blanc far away. The first sight of the Bernese Alps, 
 far above a long trailing belt of clouds, and up where no one 
 expected to see them, was positively startHng. You know 
 them, but I had never seen them, or any true Alps before ; 
 and' certainly they are perfectly unlike anything of the 
 mountain sort I ever saw. We have spent the day looking 
 at them changing as the sun moved on. To-morrow we 
 go to look for lodgings at St. Cergues. 
 
 Taeis, 21st September 1866. 
 We stayed at St. Cergues till Monday the 18th. The 
 view was glorious all day long, and there were deligbtful 
 fir- woods to wander through, with bright green glades, and 
 tbe cattle, with their bells, making them full of pleasant 
 sound. It was mere lazy holiday-making, looking on and 
 doing nothing, and from time to time going up to the 
 Observatoire Restaurant, perched on its rock, where we made 
 great friends with M. Amat, the keeper of it, a character in 
 his way, who has been put in a book : an odd mixture, — a 
 perfect gentleman, and a Boniface who piques himself on 
 bis cuisine ; a humorous sort of recluse, who in the summer 
 carries on the restaurant trade, as much for the amusement 
 of seeing people, and having bis causeries with them, as for 
 
II WHATLEY 211 
 
 the profit of the thing (though no doubt he does very well) ; 
 and who, in winter, if he does not go to his native Bayonne, 
 spends it on the top of his rock aU alone, rising early and 
 going to bed late, reading and writing; in the midst of the 
 snow. It came out that he had early had a great loss, — 
 " une fille de dix-htdt ans," but whether daughter or lady- 
 love we did not like to ask; and now, he says, "je vis de 
 mes souvenirs et de mon avenir." Altogether, though you 
 never can help suspecting a Frenchman, especially in a 
 strange position, he gave one the idea of a man who was not 
 acting, though he liked to put himself en Evidence, where he 
 thought he would be appreciated, and he plainly likes to be 
 considered, as he is called in a book by one of his friends, 
 " Le philosophe du Jura.'' He certainly added to the diver- 
 sion of being at St. Oergues, and probably tempted us to 
 stay : we spent our Sunday there. 
 
 . . . From St. Cergues we went to Geneva, which really 
 is very striking : and the rushing of the Ehone below the 
 bridges is glorious. Tuesday we steamered up the lake to 
 Villeneuve, and back to Lausanne. The day, like all our 
 days, was fine and bright, but with mist or thick air about 
 the hills ; but the vaporous gorge, with its varied lines of 
 hills one behind another, like the scenes of a theatre, was, 
 in its way, as grand as any clearer sight of the mountain 
 features could have been. Lausanne is a striking place, with 
 a great modern viaduct connecting an old and new town, 
 and with a very mediaeval series of steep wooden steps, 
 under a wooden covering, leading up the side of the hill, to 
 a fine simple thirteenth- century cathedral, which presides 
 over the town. . . . — Yours affectionately, E, W. 0. 
 
 Mr. Church's love of the country, which had heen 
 
212 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 strengthening steadily as the years went by, was 
 acknowledged now with little to qualify it. "There 
 are only two things which I regret in the life I lead 
 here," he writes to James Mozley ; " one is that I never 
 have the chance of good music, such as one gets in 
 London ; the other that it is so difficult to see the 
 world, and I am getting older and older, and such a 
 number of things not seen that I should like to gee." 
 
 The following letter with its bright glimpse into the 
 home life at Whatley has its part in adding to the com- 
 pleteness of the picture : — 
 
 To Dr. Asa Gray. 
 
 Whatley, llth Jcmuary 1868. 
 
 My dear Dr. Gray — The sight of your handwritiag 
 gave me a twinge of conscience ', but one of the evils of 
 getting old is, with me, an increasing hardness about my 
 manifold neglects in the matter of letter- writing. But I did 
 feel that you had given me a lesson. I should be indeed 
 sorry to lose the pleasure of corresponding with you, and I 
 cannot help feeling the visible tendencies of my laziness. I 
 can hardly plead hard work, yet somehow I don't find time 
 for things as I used. I suppose that unconsciously 
 " strength faileth " where outwardly all seems the same. 
 For though I am past fifty, I have never fairly got out of 
 the feeling that I am a mere boy. This, with other reasons, 
 would always be an objection with me to being made a 
 bishop. 
 
 In all these troubled times, the years, with us, have gone ■ 
 forward very peacefully. There are changes. My boy has 
 grown up into a public school youngster, and has won his 
 
II WHATLEY 213 
 
 place on the foundation at Winchester ; an odd mixture of 
 childishness and cleverness, idleness and interest in work, 
 affection and petulance. He is a curious instance to me of 
 how a boy, of apparently feeble health, works through rough- 
 ness, and seems to thrive and improve under it. I remember 
 the time when I thought it absolutely impossible that he 
 could ever_stand school life ; but, step by step, he has gone on, 
 and now is always better at school than at home, though 
 at Winchester the life is rather of a military hardness. Then 
 there are three little girls, stiU. of that delightful age when 
 they have not come to dream of young ladyhood, while they 
 have aU the interest of life and quickness, which only mere 
 children have for their dolls. They are companions not 
 the less pleasant and interesting, from the totally diflferent 
 order of ideas in which they move, and the original points 
 of view from which they see things. And so we have been 
 going on. From year to year we see great changes ; but 
 when the changes come about no eye can see. At this 
 moment the whole party, with the boy at the head, are in 
 the shrubbery, showing the effect on his mind of a recent 
 course of Cooper's novels ; and energetically following his 
 lead, while he makes them " be Indians " for him — Mohawks, 
 Delawares, and Shawnees — and they have been pursuing on 
 the war-path, tomahawking and whooping, and displaying 
 the scalps they have taken, all the afternoon. 
 
 I was very sorry to hear your news about Mr. Loring. I 
 heard his name from Eraser. And Fraser is a man who 
 would fully prize him. There is a peculiar beauty and 
 tenderness about the relation of a father and daughter, when 
 it takes its full proportions ; I don't know anything Uke it, 
 and I wonder sometimes that it is so rare. In Mrs. Gray's 
 weak health the loss must be a trying blow. May I send 
 
214 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 her my most kind remembrances, and the assurance how 
 much she has our sympathy. 
 
 Perhaps you have heard that you are likely to have 
 Goldwin Smith to settle, it is supposed, permanently among 
 you. He had a terrible blow in his father's death. And 
 perhaps that has contributed to make England distasteful to 
 him. I think he has given us up too soon. So much 
 nobleness and elevation are a loss to any society, and we can 
 hardly spare him. But I think that he has latterly been 
 carried away by extremes both of indignation and sym- 
 pathy ; though I must say that such a political year as last 
 year is some excuse for any man. — Yours very sincerely, 
 
 E. W. Ohueoh. 
 
 To THE Rev. J. B. Mozley. 
 
 "Whatlbt, 21st Jaima/ry 1868. 
 
 Do you ever look over old letters! Or perhaps, Uke a 
 wise man, you do not let them accumulate. I have suddenly 
 discovered that I have great heaps remaining from the old 
 days of Tractarian warfare, I have begun looking over 
 them, to sift at least, and burn largely. One's feelings are 
 very mingled. I can hardly say that I feel quite satisfied 
 or glorious ; but there is a mixture of approval too. But 
 those wonderful strings of names appended to protests and 
 memorials are very queer, when one thinks of what Oxford 
 has got to now. 
 
 XWh February 1868. 
 
 I spent two or three days in London last week with 
 Eogers. I did two things. I went over the Abbey with 
 Stanley, who was good enough to give us a morning. He is 
 a very good guide, and has it all on his fingers' ends. It 
 certainly is a very impressive place. There is a sort of effect 
 
II WHATLEY 215 
 
 of being in a dream, and meeting all sorts of strange people, 
 from Edward the Confessor to Thackeray, really brought 
 close to you in actual existence, and yet only present by 
 tokens and signs of the most heterogeneous kind. And we 
 had a fine day, and the Abbey itself was very noble. 
 
 The other thing was a lecture of Tyndall's at the Eoyal 
 Institution. It was said not to be one of his best ; but his 
 experiments were curious, and neat, and uniformly success- 
 ful. But all the time I could not help a kind of sense of 
 the insolence of the man, such as he appeared to be, claiming 
 to bring all truth within what he called science. There was 
 hardheadedness, originality, and sometimes a touch of imagina- 
 tion. But there seemed to be also a hard and hopeless 
 onesidedness, as if nothing in the world would open his eyes 
 to the whole domain of soul and spirit close about him, and 
 without which he would not be talking or devising wonder- 
 ful experiments. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R W. 0. 
 
 To Dk, Asa Gray. 
 
 Whatley, 11th December 1868. 
 
 My dear Dr. Gray — I received your note from Hy&res, 
 which revived some very strong longings of old date. I was 
 in that country in 1847, about the same time of year, and, 
 to my sorrow, I have never seen it again. I wish you had 
 seen Aries and Orange, where there is a wonderful Roman 
 theatre, with the great scene waU still standing ; and the 
 Pont du Gard. But it is unkind to awaken fruitless regrets. 
 
 . . . Well, you will ere this have heard of the issue of 
 the great election fight, which sent so many heroes to 
 Hades, and caused such wounds and wrath. Dizzy acted 
 wisely in throwing up the game when it was no longer any 
 
216 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AKD LETTERS pakt 
 
 use carrying it on ; and te retires with the glory, such as it 
 is, of having done what no other man in England conld have 
 done. For the first time a Quaker becomes the "Eight 
 Honourable,'' and sits in the Council, only making an affir- 
 mation instead of an oath. Por the first time the Irish Lord 
 Chancellor is a Koman Catholic — and I suppose, though it is 
 shockingly uncharitable to say so — a great lawyer — RoundeU 
 Palmer, with the English Lord Chancellorship not only within 
 his grasp, but actually by the voice of the profession and the 
 country inviting and begging him to take it, has resolutely 
 foregone the great prize, because he thinks the proposed Irish 
 measure, which his party are to carry, deficient in complete 
 justice. The change has, as yet, made little difference to the 
 world at large. But we have a Ministry, of newer blood, 
 and more detached from the old routine, than any within 
 living memory. The House of Commons, on the other hand, 
 seems made up of much the same materials, and Gladstone 
 will have a tough job to keep it in order. There never was 
 a man so genuinely admired for the qualities which deserve 
 admiration — his earnestness, his deep popular sympathies, 
 his unflinching courage — and there never was a man more 
 deeply hated, iDoth for his good points and for undeniable 
 defects and failings. But they love him much less in the 
 House than they do out of doors. 
 
 I beg your pardon for being so political when I am writing 
 to be read within view of the Pyramids. I will forward the 
 Times on the chance when there is anything worth seeing. 
 There is a curious, and, as far as I remember, rather novel 
 bit of popular enthusiasm in the " handshaking " at Windsor 
 Station of Gladstone and Bright, in a number which gives 
 the account of the swearing in of the Ministers. — Ever yours 
 affectionately, R. W. Chtjbch. 
 
II "WHATLEY 217 
 
 To Sib Fredbeio EoaERS. 
 
 Whatlbt, Ifh Jammary 1869. 
 
 My dear RoGtEES — I had on Tuesday a very kind note 
 from Gladstone, offering me a vacant Oanonry at Worcester. 
 When I began writing on tlie Irish Church last year, I made 
 up my mind that possibly something of the kind might 
 ensue; and that, going against the general Church feeling, 
 and in favour of a policy which was sure to bring its leaders 
 into power, I should have to give some proof that I had not 
 been writing for the good things which such writing might 
 bring me. It is a question like the old Roman Catholic 
 Emancipation contest ; and I felt that it might be diflScult 
 to take anything when Gladstone should be in power. But 
 the great kindness of his note shook me. The Canonry 
 itself, though an inviting one, would not have much affected 
 me ; but he put the offer in terms which made it hard to 
 say no. 
 
 But I came back to my first resolution. There was, 
 indeed, nothing to change it, except the feeling of gratitude 
 for the way in which the offer was made. But on the other 
 hand, the last few years seem to me to have so brought back 
 the old spirit of preferment-seeking among the clergy, and 
 especially the Conservative and moderate High Church clergy 
 — for of course the Ritualists have no chance — and infidel 
 writers, like those in the Pall Mall, are avowedly counting so 
 confidently on the self-seeking and ambitious habits of the 
 clergy — that it seemed to me more important, even towards 
 the success of Gladstone's own policy, that it should . seem 
 possible that High Churchmen should support it disinterest- 
 edly, than that I should become a slightly bigger man as 
 Canon of Worcester. I think I am more alive than I was to 
 
218 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 tlie call to accept responsibilities ; — I don't know, perhaps 
 not: — but there was something in the feeling of the old 
 Tractarian days which, as far as I remember, quenched the 
 thought of- preferment. I found it hard to bear the idea of 
 being held up as an example of the lucky High Churchman, 
 who managed just at the right moment to pronoimce in 
 favour of what two-thirds of his brethren consider an anti- 
 Church policy in Ireland. 
 
 So I said no ; never, I think, with greater regret ; not for 
 the thing refused, but for the refusal itself, and the impos- 
 sibility of explaining it to him. I send you Gladstone's 
 letter : please return it. Curiously, the last appointed 
 Canon of Worcester was Wynter of St. John's, my old V.-C. 
 when I was proctor, and chairman of various anti-Glad- 
 stonian Election Committees, appointed by Lord Derby. — 
 Ever yours affectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 To Dr. Asa Ghat. 
 
 "Whatlet, 5th Ajpril 1869. 
 The newspapers will have told you how the world goes 
 on. The great parliamentary question of the Irish Church 
 is, I suppose, settled. If it were possible to make the change 
 less violent and rough, one would almost wish for a more 
 powerful opposition. But this is hopeless, and therefore I 
 do not regret that the matter should be settled decisively. 
 There will be a great deal of hardship and some wrong ; 
 and the immediate effect will probably be imperceptible in 
 reconciling Ireland to her elder sister. But it is not an 
 easy thing for a nation to clean its hands, and I am willing 
 to make much allowance for the probable imperfections and 
 clumsinesses of the process. 
 
II WHATLEY 219 
 
 We are here much as we were : reading, parochialising, 
 and so forth. We have our village concert to-morrow 
 evening. I hope it will do my wife's untiring work with 
 her singers some credit. I am just reading an interesting 
 hook, Lecky's History of European Morals,— a, hook, of much 
 reading and candour, hut which does not reach my ideal 
 standard of either. It is an old commonplace, unfortun- 
 ately too true, that theologians and apologists colour and 
 soften ; hut I must add that the propensity is not a hit less 
 apparent in philosophical historians, though they are often 
 just as well intentioned. I have come, too, on two volumes 
 from your side of the water, Lowell's volume with his 
 Oommemoration Ode. Lowell seems to me the most perfect 
 exponent in poetry, of the sense of national greatness, of 
 any one that I know. The other hook is Hans Breitmann, 
 who, detestahle as he often is, has real genius in the queer 
 line he has chosen. He has caught strong hold of the 
 Spectator. 
 
 We are beginning to amuse ourselves with Alpine plans. 
 Our present thought is to spend the end of June and July 
 round Monte Eosa as a centre, chiefly on the Italian side. 
 But it is still some while to that. . . . — Ever yours 
 affectionately, R. W. Chdrch. 
 
 The appointment of Dr. Temple to the see of Exeter 
 woke afresh the outcry that had been provoked by 
 Essays and Reviews, to which he had been one of the 
 contributors : — 
 
 To De. Asa Gray. 
 
 Whatlet, 5<A November 1869. 
 The outcry against Temple is, I think, most unjust, and 
 in its violence very discreditable. It is the direct result of 
 
220 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 the extravagant measures whict were taken years ago gainst 
 the Essays and Reviews. People then got committed, in 
 Convocation and elsewhere, to a false position against it, and 
 now they are obliged, ia consistency, to shriek at the very 
 name of it. Temple, as you say, is certainly not ia the 
 same boat even with Stanley. He is a man of strong, 
 masculine earnestness, sympathising with the masses ; and 
 alive to, and perhaps even frightened by, the powerlessness 
 of speculation to meet the difficulties of mankind iu general. 
 I believe he wUl make one of our best bishops. But the 
 agitation, I think, threatens to be very mischievous. We 
 have not so many great names on the religious side, that we 
 can afford to see a man like Pusey, who is a man after all to 
 rank with religious leaders of a high mark in aU ages, 
 casting away all the lessons of a lifetime, and countenancing 
 the worst violence of a zealot like * * * We shall smart for 
 all this. Mere disestablishment will he the least of the 
 mischiefs. Seeing a man learned and religious as Pusey is, 
 so blindly unjust and intemperate, is a heavy blow against 
 that which is more dear to Pusey than life. . . . — Ever 
 yours affectionately, E. W. Church. 
 
 To THE Rev. C. M. Church. 
 
 Whatlet, 9th November 1869. 
 Dear Charles — Everything went off right at Windsor, 
 and the Queen was not too tired with Saturday to come to 
 service. ... I had a pleasant stroU with the Dean in the 
 private grounds, and a good deal of interesting talk. He is 
 a capital host, and sets you at ease at once ; and the house 
 is a pleasant one. 
 
 ... I feel like a boy home for the holidays. I have got 
 
II WHATLEY 221 
 
 something to do for Maomillan, and then comes the Christmas 
 Ordination, which is a bore. But I hope I have done with 
 sermons for a good while. I will send you the Westmioster 
 onei in a few days. I was requested to leave the Windsor 
 one behind again. — Ever yours affectionately, R W. 0. 
 
 The year spent by Dr. and Mrs. Gray in Europe, 
 during which they had found time to pay a visit to 
 Whatley, and for a few weeks were together with Mr. 
 and Mrs. Church in Switzerland, had added new strength 
 to the friendship between them. 
 
 To Dr. Asa Geat. 
 
 Whatley, 24«/i December 1869. 
 
 My dear Friend — First, we must wish you joy on having 
 got over your voyage, though I am afraid that it must have 
 been a disagreeable kind of dream for you. . . . Next, as this 
 is Christmas Eve, we must wish you a very happy, and even 
 merry, Christmas. It is strange to think that you are gone. 
 You had seemed so near us for so long — for even in Egypt 
 there was the looking forward to seeing you — that it needs 
 an effort to remember that you are really across the Atlantic, 
 for some time at least. 
 
 We are all well : holidays have begun, and brought back 
 with them my boy from Winchester College ; a queer creature, 
 with weak frame and languid health, and quick brain and 
 tongue, whose interests are divided between his classical work, 
 his fossils, and, in summer, his cricket Just now at home 
 the geological rage is at its height ; every corner and every 
 
 I Preached at the consecration of Dr. Moberly as Bishop of Salis- 
 bury, in Westminster Abbey, on St. Simon and St. Jude's day, 1869. 
 
222 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 chair is covered with precious Terebratulse and Rhynconellae, 
 which, if any one approaches (and it is hard in our little 
 house not to approach them if one moves), he flies out in 
 wrathful fear and distress, and objects to any one being 
 touched. What the housemaid does under the circumstances 
 I cannot imagine, except give herself a conscientious holiday 
 from all dusting and scrubbing ; and meanwhile the house 
 looks like a place where people had scraped their muddy 
 boots on every chair and table. But I am assured that the 
 apparent mud is most valuable and interesting, full of wonder- 
 ful remains, which are waiting their turn to be assorted, and 
 classified, and ticketed. And everybody pays deference ; 
 especially the young gentleman's sisters, in whose eyes, very 
 properly, he is a great hero. It is very amusing, and the 
 eagerness is satisfactory. . . . 
 
 You see I go off rambling, while the CEcumenical Council 
 is sitting, and the world is agape to know whether it wiU 
 decree personal infallibility, and what is to become of Bishop 
 Dupanloup and his companions ; and while here. Bishop 
 Temple has been consecrated, and, by our folly and childish 
 exaggeration of what we don't like, a very serious beginning 
 of division has been established in the English Church. 
 Temple was unbending, and would not give place to subjec- 
 tion, no, not for an hour : perhaps he was right, but though 
 the opposition to him was unscrupulous and unmeasured, he 
 ought to have understood that he had given, and by his own 
 admission, some ground for distrust to a great mass of the 
 body in which he was to bear high office ; and explanations 
 might, I think, have been given, both in charity and in 
 wisdom, without any compromise of liberty. However, all 
 is over now, and we have an energetic, high-souled, and, I 
 believe, most religious bishop ; but it is a grave fact that 
 
II WHATLEY 223 
 
 four Bishops recorded their formal protests at the last moment 
 against his consecration, and four more, not formally, ex- 
 pressed their dissent. The Archbishop, whom we saw so 
 well at Westminster, has had a formidable paralytic attack, 
 and, I should think, would never be fit for work again. 
 Temple was consecrated by a commission of Bishops. 
 
 I have been doing work as examiner at Salisbury, for 
 the candidates for orders. And now I feel myself quite 
 comfortable at home again, looking forward to next summer's 
 run in Switzerland. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 To THE Rev. J. B. Mozlet. 
 
 Whatlet, 29th January 1870. 
 My dbae Mozley — The times are curious, and I wish I 
 could have a talk with you. But I see no chance of getting 
 a week just now. I am just come back from spending a day 
 at Eraser's. He had been down to Manchester, and was 
 pleased at his reception. He is sent there as an Educationist, 
 which seems to be the thing Manchester is full of: and I 
 suppose he knows a good deal about that, and can take a line 
 upon it with some weight. . . . Eraser's letters of congratu- 
 lation have been many and warm. His great love and 
 reverence for Hamilton are a drag upon his liberalism. I 
 should think his rule would be a firm and also a generous 
 one. The Provost's notes were very characteristic ; Nestor- 
 like precepts, and stories about the failures and successes of 
 other bishops, and nicely qualified courtesies to Eraser him- 
 self. Eraser is a good deal subdued by the change ; and 
 also much amused at the tremendous reversal which his 
 costume has to go through, and the extraordinary measurings 
 
224 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 of the Episcopal tailors, and the strange apparatus which 
 they display before him, and tell him that he must have. 
 Moberly is flourishing at Salisbury. I was there for the 
 Christmas Ordination, and found him brisker and in better 
 health than I have seen him for many years. The open air 
 work suits him ; and I believe that he does his confirmations, 
 etc., very well. The palace in summer time must be one of 
 the most charming places in England. 
 
 What a wonderful affair this Roman Council is getting ! 
 It seems to me almost the most crowning event of the age, 
 and one which no one could have imagined possible. And 
 I suppose it really would not have happened but for Manning 
 and Ward. I never could have guessed that it would have 
 precipitated, like a chemical reagent, all this mass of recal- 
 citrant independence, which is not Protestantism, nor even 
 Gallicanism, but simply secret hatred, and contempt, and 
 indignation at the Roman Court and its tricks and humbug. 
 One's old feelings towards Heads of Houses, Symons and Co., 
 make one partly understand how fellows like Dupanloup are 
 dealt with, and how they don't like it. There is a good deal 
 of Nemesis in it, for all their past flatteries and unctuous 
 rhetoric about Rome and the Pope. I should think that at 
 Rome they could not have anticipated all this fuss, or they 
 would have done without the Council, which they quite well 
 might have done. But now I don't see how they can help 
 passing the personal infallibility. Not to do it, or to evade 
 it, would simply be to show themselves beaten by internal 
 disunion. They had better risk schism, which I don't expect, 
 however, than that. It may cost them a great deal in the 
 next generation, but I doubt whether they care for that 
 The world is full of warnings to people that they may be 
 taken at their word, and that they had better measure their 
 
II WHATLEY 225 
 
 statements, and not talk big ; but the position of tbe Frencli 
 bishops is one of the most remarkable ones. — Ever yours 
 affectionately, ■ R. W. Chuech. 
 
 To Dr. Asa Gray. 
 
 Whatley, ith Februwry 1870. 
 
 My dear Friend — I suppose by this time that you and 
 Mrs. Gray must almost have forgotten that this time 
 last year you were in Egypt, and that only a few months 
 ago we were all lying on the turf, counting the flowers on 
 the Eiffelberg. I hope that both of you find that you have 
 brought back a good fund to draw. upon in the winter, and 
 for work. 
 
 You will have heard before now of Eraser's elevation. I 
 knew that it was coming sooner or later. But if a place 
 could have been looked out for him to suit him, it would 
 have been hard to find a better place than Manchester. He 
 is a man of large sympathies and fixed opinions of his own ; 
 ever since I knew him, independent and able to resist the 
 currents from different sides which have swept across clerical 
 opinion during his time ; but always winning not only 
 respect but affection from people with whom he has been 
 associated, and who are as widely separated from one another 
 as the late Bishop Hamilton of Salisbury and Mr. Liddon 
 are from Mr. Lingen and the authorities at the Privy Council 
 office. His manner has something of the offhandedness of a 
 boy, and with his large knowledge and practical shrewdness 
 there is a curious boyish simplicity about him. But he 
 knows his work, and his heart is in it, and I hope a good 
 deal from him at Manchester. But no doubt he will come 
 on trying times. 
 
 I think, sometimes, that we are nearer than we know to 
 Q 
 
226 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 a great break-up. The difficulty is beginning to be more 
 visible every day, of reconciling a Ohurcli with great privileges 
 with the general set of modern policy ; of combining a 
 National Church with a Church having the raison d'Stre of 
 a religious society, believing in a definite religion, and teach- 
 ing it. Generosity, consciousness of our ignorance and 
 liability to prejudice, and honest tolerance, may keep things 
 together for a time ; but tolerance is apt to take the form of 
 mere indifference or absence of convictions ; consciousness of 
 ignorance requires more knowledge than most people have ; 
 and generosity sometimes is merely making free with what 
 other people value and you don't care for, and what calls 
 itself by that name is often a very questionable quality. So, 
 one of these days, I expect that we shall find ourselves put 
 into the position of having to choose between making the 
 Church coextensive with what can be called the religion of 
 the whole nation or giving up our present position. I think 
 it will be an evil thing for the present generation at least 
 when that time comes ; for certainly no machinery, that I 
 can see, could take the present place of the Church in the 
 country districts ; and with all their innumerable short- 
 comings, the English clergy, as a whole, have worked weU 
 and hard for the poor and helpless, who would be badly off 
 without them. But no doubt the time must come. But I 
 wish we could wait at least till there was less fierceness like 
 that called forth by Temple's appointment ; till Churchmen 
 were more large-minded, and Dissent less vulgar and bigoted. 
 People are so committed on all sides to hastily professed 
 views and old parties, that there will be a great many false 
 positions if the break-up comes, and the bitterness wiU be 
 aggravated by people reproaching one another with incon- 
 sistency and unfaithfulness to their principles. It is like 
 
II WHATLEY 227 
 
 the Roman, infallibility tangle. People there have been 
 talking rhetoric for ages, beyond their real thought, and now 
 that they are taken at their word they are all in confusion. 
 But I suppose it is a long time off before people learn the 
 danger of talking beyond their meaning. 
 
 1st March 1870. 
 Here is a regular wet afternoon, and as there is no going 
 out, and perhaps I may not always have time for letter- 
 writing, I shall devote part of it to you. . . . 
 
 I stayed with Fraser some three weeks ago. I have not 
 heard that he is consecrated ; but he is looked upon as a 
 great acquisition, especially just now, with the Education 
 question before Parliament. The two great bills have been 
 well received in England,' — not, of course, in Ireland, — and 
 ministers, I hear, are in high spirits, though of course they 
 are not out of the wood yet. But certainly no man we 
 have ever had has matched Gladstone in the grasp and 
 daring, combined with thorough detailed knowledge of his 
 great legislative constructions. Doubtless there are powers 
 stronger than he. But we have not known what a really 
 strong minister is in all the time between him and Pitt. 
 Peel was very powerful, from his very caution, combined 
 with thorough political integrity ; but he had not genius 
 and boldness. Gladstone's weak point is what is most 
 amiable in him, his strong vein of sentiment. It is the 
 spring of what is noblest about his impulses ; but it is a 
 
 perilous quality too. 
 
 Whatley, 25ft May 1870. 
 
 Mt dear Pkibnd — I have been suffering the pains of a 
 
 bad conscience and shame for some time past, when my eye 
 
 caught your last letter lying unanswered on my study table ; 
 
 but you probably don't know how a little extra work brings, 
 
228 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 not fatigue, but a fit of wanton idleness, witt its vain self- 
 deceits and excuses. But I really was going to write this 
 week even if I had not been wakened up by Mrs. Gray's 
 reminder to my wife. I can suppose all that she tells one 
 of your hard work just now. Flowers will not wait even 
 for professors ; and I suppose that the throng of them comes 
 in with a rush with you even more than with us. We are 
 most beautiful just now. The year has been backward, very 
 dry lately, and north winds. The rain has not yet come, 
 but the green has, and the sun, and astonishing boundless 
 light, •pZ's aa-Trerov, which seems to make the visible world, 
 even in day, so much greater than it seems in winter ; and 
 one goes about thinking of bits from all the poets one can 
 remember, to give some touches of the wonder and glory, 
 which become greater, to my mind, every year one lives. 
 But you see I am going mad. 
 
 I am afraid that we must do without Switzerland this 
 year. I have got to look after the rebuilding of our church, 
 and I do not much like to be away. So one of my years of 
 walking in the mountains must be given up : perhaps to he 
 a little made up for by an autumn run in Normandy and 
 the north of France. 
 
 . The year has not been very excited ; but it is 
 marked in my calendar as a very important one. The 
 debates on the Education Bill have made it clear that the 
 position of the Church of England, whether disestablished or 
 not, will soon undergo a great change. Forster's Education 
 Bill was meant to be studiously impartial in its dealing with 
 religious teaching. Its effect would have been to leave 
 everybody free ; but where there was no preponderating 
 religious tendency in the direction of non-conformity, as is 
 generally the case in the country, there the Church, from 
 
II WHATLEY 229 
 
 legal position, tradition, usage, and because the parson was 
 the person on whom the expense and trouble of schools had 
 long fallen, would have an advantage, because there was 
 really no rival influence. But this has stii-red the antagon- 
 ism of the Nonconformists generally, and they have thrown 
 themselves on the secular, and really the unbelieving side, 
 rather than let the Church get an additional hold on the 
 country. I am sorry for it. I should not be for an 
 Established Church in a country like this, if all was to 
 begin de novo. But with our history, habits, and conditions 
 of life, what damages the Church, damages the best chances 
 of simple, unsectarian religion. It would be a long time 
 before any system could grow up to take the place of our 
 parish churches and superintendence in country places. 
 
 Have you seen a striking essay by Matthew Arnold, " St. 
 Paul and Protestantism " ? — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 B. W. Church. 
 
 To Sin Frederic Rogers. 
 
 Whatley, Zrd July 1870. 
 Mt dear Rogers — I have not had time to tell you about 
 Newman's visit, which was duly chronicled in the local 
 papers. It was very -pleasant. -He was very well and 
 happy, walking and even running, though it was that very 
 hot weather. I took him to Longleat, and you know how 
 he lets himself go when he enjoys being out in the air on a 
 fine day, and looking at what he thinks beautiful ; and 
 Marston and Longleat looked their best for him. He made 
 himself quite at home with Helen and the children ; with 
 the children he compared notes about children's books, which 
 has ended in their sending him, and his very heartily accept- 
 ing, one of their books of nonsense, Alices Adventures in 
 
230 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 fFonderland, wMch lie did not know, and they thought he 
 ought to. He talked very freely and a great deal ; neither 
 seeking nor avoidiug subjects, but takiag everything as it 
 turned up, and becoming very animated at times. It was 
 curious to learn, what of course is very natural, only it does 
 not occur to outsiders, that there are degrees, and consider- 
 able ones, in the " Infallibilist " party ; and that the passing 
 of the Definition, in the shape in which it is likely to be 
 passed, is looked on by some of them as almost a failure, to 
 be deplored and to be wretched about, as not going far 
 enough. He is anxious about the future of his school at 
 Birmingham. I should gather from what he skid that the 
 Jesuits pick up the most promising of the converts from us. 
 I must stop. — Ever yours affectionately, R. W. 0. 
 
 The progress and fortunes of the Franco-Prussian 
 war were filling all minds through the autumn and 
 winter of 1870. He writes to his brother and to Dr. 
 Gray : — • 
 
 To THE Rev. C. M. Church. 
 
 Whatley, 6th September 1870. 
 Dear Charles — . ... Well— 1848 if not 1792 is back 
 again, and in a very ugly form. It is scarcely credible. I 
 cannot think of the parallel of such a fall, so rapid and so 
 great. It shakes one very uncomfortably out of those tacit 
 assumptions of immunity from the disasters of less favoured 
 nations, in which I, at least, catch myself commonly 
 dwelling. I remember at Salisbury during the Assize week, 
 the very acute Judge Willes being perfectly scornful, as at a 
 piece of ignorant and idiotic wantonness, at the suggestion 
 of any real struggle at the beginning of the war ; the French, 
 
II WHATLEY 231 
 
 it was aa clear as anything could be, would begin with their 
 irresistible rush ; and it was only a question how the 
 Germans in the end would recover themselves and per- 
 severe. 
 
 Now, I suppose, a different sort of struggle wUl begin. 
 The Colviles are safely back ; the Homers are expected. 
 They were at Mayence on Saturday, and Horner sent me an 
 " extra^blatt " with the news just come in, " Napoleon hat 
 capitulirt." They wUl come through Belgium and Holland. 
 — Ever yours affectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 To De. Asa Gray. 
 
 ■Whatlbt, ISth September 1870. 
 What have been your thoughts during this wonderful two 
 months ? What is one to think ? How is one to judge 1 
 What is one to wish 1 My own feelings and opinions go 
 through half a dozen variations in the course of the day, and 
 the end is, — I feel beat. It is so easy to condemn French 
 insolence, to rejoice over so signal a vengeance, to admire 
 German thoroughness and devotion, to be enthusiastic over 
 military skill and success such as the world seems never to 
 have seen the like of ; but it is as easy to see that ever since 
 Count Bismarck guided Germany, Germany, if triumphant 
 and mighty, has caught the audacity and unscrupulousness of 
 the Prussia of Frederick the Great ; that she has taken to 
 picking quarrels, that her poUoy has beet provocative and 
 disquieting, that this very war with France, of which un- 
 doubtedly French folly and wickedness gave the signal, is 
 the very thing to serve the Prussian statesmen's end — the 
 welding together, by a bloody and successful struggle, North 
 and South Germany. With all my wishes for a grand and 
 
232 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 united Vaterland, the means which, it seems to me, have heen 
 deliherately chosen to bring it about are simply hateful ; as 
 hateful as Napoleon's coup d'dat and demoralising despotism, 
 which have succeeded for nearly twenty years in making 
 France the first nation of Europe. I believe that the law 
 of retributive justice is for Germany as well as for France, 
 and that from one, as from the other, it will wait to claim 
 its due. 
 
 But was ever such a downfall seen as the Empire's 1 One 
 has to go back to the Old Testament prophets to iind words 
 to express one's feelings. You must be reminded of Sher- 
 man's piercing and disclosing the hollowness of the South. 
 It was time that it should end, for it was false and base, 
 though so much that is pleasant and charming in France is 
 gone with it for our generation. But it looks as if France 
 needed to be purified and braced, and that the only way was 
 by going through the depths of adversity. If Frenchmen 
 have any stuff in them, and I cannot doubt it, the trials and 
 sacrifices and humiliations of this astonishing war ought to 
 make them more manly and more modest. They are too 
 grand a race, with all their faults, to be missed out of the 
 civilised world. But if ever a nation seemed on the point of 
 hopeless ruin, it is France just now. 
 
 The very air seems full of wonders. You will have heard 
 of oiir famous turret ship, Ga^tadn, going down in three 
 minutes, in a mere common squall, with five hundred of the 
 best blood and the best skill of the navy in her. And to-day 
 the Italian troops are to march on Rome, to finish up the 
 great Roman drama of the year, and put the finishing touch 
 to the decree of Papal Infallibility. . . . 
 
 I was very much obliged for the Memoir of Mr. Loring. 
 I still often wish that I could come out and know some of 
 
II WHATLEY 233 
 
 those good people of yours by seeing them at home. Perhaps 
 it will come about some day, unless our poor old world is 
 going to be driven into a new course, and the cycle which 
 began at the end of the last century is going to begin again. 
 It is your turn now to look on at the wonderful vicissitudes 
 of fate. — Ever yours affectionately, R. W. Chdroh. 
 
 During the leisure of this year Mr. Church had been 
 engaged in transforming his two essays on Anselm, 
 which had originally appeared in the British Critic, into 
 a volume of Macmillan's Simday Library. 
 
 To THE EeV. J. B. MOZLEY. 
 
 Whatley, 29th October 1870. 
 
 Doing Ansehn a second time was rather tiresome work. 
 The getting it up was almost as troublesome as the first time, 
 without the zest of a new subject. But I am glad I have 
 done it, because I think the character deserves it. What 
 you say is so true, not merely about the many sides of the 
 character, so much beyond what was to be expected in his 
 time and position, but about the kind of "elegance" that 
 there is about him, with an entire unconsciousness of the 
 idea of grace or elegance at all. He almost answers to Matt. 
 Arnold's requirements of " sweetness and light," in the free 
 way in which he lets his thought return upon itself, and play 
 about common subjects and received words and formulas. 
 
 I wish you would follow out your thought about the 
 great men who have been checks to their own side and 
 party. I suppose the position of some of the freer thinking 
 High Churchmen of the seventeenth century, like John 
 Hales, was something of the kind. I did not know it of 
 
234 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS i-aet 
 
 T. Scott. I slioiild think that things could be quoted of 
 Wesley of the same kind, which have been swept away in 
 the great current of popular Methodism. 
 
 Another matter to- occupy tliougM and time during 
 1870 was the restoration of the little village church. 
 Within the first few years of his coming to Whatley, 
 Mr. Church had at his own cost restored the chancel 
 of the church, and at length he was to see the com- 
 pletion of the work. A touch of affection was stirred 
 for what was to pass away, ugly and homely as it was. 
 " I felt," he wrote at Christmas to Miss Col vile, an 
 absent parishioner, " that we were taking leaving of the 
 church as it is and has been since I have been here; 
 and the last meeting, even with the horrid old pews, 
 which we have been accustomed to so long, has some- 
 thing touching in it. 'On ne se d^tache jamais sans 
 douleur,' Pascal says — even from the church decorations 
 of old William Shore. Next Christmas I hope we shall 
 look better." 
 
 To Dr. Asa Gray. 
 
 Whatley, Slst October 1870. 
 My dear Friend — Here is your letter just come, and I 
 have an uncomfortable misgiving that I already owe you for 
 two. I hope I may be mistaken. But I have been iu such 
 a whirl of brick and mortar thoughts of late, that I have 
 quite lost count of my friends' letters, and of everything but 
 the daily telegrams from France. This wiU tell you that I 
 am not yet out of my church building troubles, but we hope 
 to be out on Thursday next, 3rd November. . . . We hope 
 to get the Bishop of Salisbury to do us a good turn, and 
 
n WHATLEY 235 
 
 come and preach at our opening. I wish you could see our 
 little old church with its new face. It is still plain and 
 quiet, as it ought to be, but with a little more care about 
 forms and shapes, and about goodness of material. I know 
 you feel interest about such things, as when you had the 
 Herbarium in hand, and you will sympathise with the 
 anxieties and fuss of a brother builder. The work has kept us 
 here all the summer. It will be a thing to remember that it 
 was contemporaneous with the downfall of the French Empire. 
 As you say, it is one astonishing solution succeeding 
 another. War seems all of a sudden to have assumed the 
 dimensions of scientific conquest, and almost to rival it in 
 precision of foresight and work. It is rather corrupting, I 
 think, to see such military success without the counter-check 
 of a really national cause, such as you had in your war- 
 Surely it will be a revival in Europe of the war fever of 
 Napoleon and Frederick the Great. Poor France ! my feel- 
 ings go backwards and forwards ; how terribly appropriate 
 is the, chastisement for her special offences, insolent meddling, 
 and incredible recklessness about veracity ; and then, how 
 piteous the sight is of a nation like France, so full of all that 
 is charming and kindly and good, fairly going to pieces, not 
 knowing how to give in even if she wished it. It is a 
 terrible commentary on the effect on the tone and fibre of a 
 nation of a rule like that of the Imperial Court. I should 
 feel more sympathy with Germany, if it was only a question 
 of its being welded together. It has a right to be one ; it 
 has a right to all the power which it would have as one ; 
 and if it could really be a powerful confederation like yours, 
 I for one should not envy it, or argue that any one had a 
 right, from ideas of " balance of power," to hinder or embarrass 
 it. But I cannot get quit of the belief that German unity, 
 
236 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTEES paht 
 
 at present, means simply the predominance of a great military 
 monarchy at Berlin, animated by the spirit of a feudal caste 
 which looks on soldiership and war as the highest and most 
 honourable of human occupations. Bismarck has turned the 
 German longing for nationality and unity into the weapon 
 of Prussia, just as the elder Napoleon turned the revolu- 
 tionary spirit of France into an engine for a conquering 
 despotism. And this abates much of my sympathy for 
 German success, though I think that, putting scruples apartj 
 both German feeling and German soldiership are the most 
 complete and masterly display of the qualities which lead 
 nations to greatness that the world has seen. . . . 
 
 I sent you Anselm, which I hope you have got by this 
 time. I am glad you met Tom Hughes. He is a man who 
 may do good to both of us on each side of the water by his 
 manly honesty and enthusiasm for truth and right. 
 
 Thank you much for the seeds of the Passiflorgs. I hope 
 I shall have some work with them. You see Darwiu's new 
 book is coming soon. Our kindest remembrances to Mrs. 
 Gray ; and I do not give up the hope of crossing the contin- 
 ent and seeing the WelUngtonias. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. OHnECH. 
 
 The following letter describes a confirmation at 
 Portland Convict Prison at which Mr. Church, as 
 chaplain to the Bishop of Salisbury, was present : — 
 
 To HIS Wife. 
 
 ■Weymouth, ith December 1870. 
 We have had a capital day ; very cold, but bright and 
 sunny and successful. We drove off to Portland about nme ; 
 the views were fine, with the broken sunlight striking on the 
 
n WHATLEY 237 
 
 Chesil beach. At the prison we were received by the 
 governor, admiral, chaplains, etc., and processed into the 
 chapel between bloclcs of convicts. They are dressed in 
 whitey brown jackets and breeches, blue stockings, and shoes. 
 There were some 1200 or 1300 in chapel, a great cruciform 
 hall, cut up into separate partitions for groups of two or 
 three hundred. The group who were to be confirmed sat in 
 front of the altar ; there were about sixty on this occasion, 
 rather more than last year. There was Morning Prayer, 
 and the ante-Communion service, the canticles being chanted, 
 and two or three hymns. The general behaviour was most 
 orderly and quiet ; of course each group was under the 
 guard of some six or eight warders, raised above them, and 
 watching them. Those who were nearest to us, and who 
 were to be confirmed, were more than orderly ; they were, 
 as far as one could see, really attentive in the service and at 
 the sermon. The singing was very impressive coming from 
 such a body of male voices, and such voices. I never shall 
 forget the way in which, in the Te Deum, they sang very 
 solemnly and slowly, " We believe that Thou shalt come to 
 be our Judge.'' The Bishop's address to the men after con- 
 firmation (he confirmed them one by one) was as good as I 
 can conceive for the occasion — manly, earnest, delicately 
 sympathetic, straight from man to man ; and if one could 
 judge from looks — and they were very natural — it was felt. 
 It was a day more to be remembered than most. 
 
 Then we lunched on board the Boscawen training ship, 
 and looked at the ironclads ; and I struck up an alliance 
 with the first lieutenant, who asked me to come oif to-morrow 
 to go on board some of the big ships. The confirmation on 
 the Boscawen is to be to-morrow at one o'clock. — Ever yours 
 affectionately, E. W. C. 
 
238 DEAN CHUECH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 To SiE Feederic Rogers. 
 
 "Whatlby, 16th January 1871. 
 
 My dear Rogers — I share your indignation in part; 
 but it is with me so balanced by another current of indig- 
 nation, that I hardly know which of the two is my real 
 feeling. I go backwards and forwards from one to the 
 other. With your wrath against the strange and scandalous 
 lying with which the French have tried to help out their 
 shortcomings I go with all my heart. That a whole nation, 
 or at least all speaking in its name, should have suddenly 
 disclosed such a rooted habit of falsehood and imposture, is a 
 terrible bit of the modern natural history of man. One used 
 to think Oarlyle's account of Barrere's Vengeur a little over- 
 coloured. But Barrfere has been beaten by Gambetta. His 
 trust in lying is fatal to his character ; for though I think a 
 great many things may be done and suffered in such a cause 
 and conflict, gross systematic lying is not one of them. 
 
 But I think there is a good deal to be said for French 
 obstinacy, and hoping against hope. I think that now the 
 Loire army is at an end, as I suppose it is, the end of hope 
 is come. But up to this point I think the French chances, 
 though poor, were not worthless, and were such as to make 
 continued resistance to be naturally felt the most sacred of 
 political duties by a Frenchman. 
 
 I think peace ought to have been made after Sedan, and 
 it was the fault of Paris and its leaders that it was not made. 
 But it was not only, nor I think mainly, their fault that it 
 was not made. "We must not say that France would not 
 confess itself beateru It was abundantly willing to do so. 
 It had received the most cruel punishment and humiliation 
 that any great nation has received, without being actually 
 
II WHATLEY 239 
 
 ruined, like Prussia after Jena ; this surely was part of the 
 penalty of the war, and in spite of the "not one stone of 
 our fortresses," other penalties and humiliations might have 
 been got, if negotiations could have been bond fide set 
 going. But the Prussians would not make peace easy ; they 
 determined to have the additional revenge of marching to 
 Paris, and they were possessed with that fatal delusion about 
 drawing the teeth of their enemy. And so, to their great 
 surprise and against their calculations, Paris held out, and 
 the war went on. And I think it would have gone on with 
 us, if after a great naval disaster the terms of peace had 
 been the surrender of Ireland ; and we should have been 
 willing to suffer as much as France before we accepted those 
 terms. 
 
 You see my disgust at French lying and vapouring and 
 vanity, abominable and astonishing as it is, is mixed with 
 another feeling, of which I feel it difficult to express the 
 strength. I have not words to express my admiration at the 
 unequalled intellectual greatness of the Prussian success ; 
 its preparations, its magnificent uninterrupted march, its 
 absolute unchequered triumph. It beats Napoleon hollow, 
 for it depends so much less on imposture, and so much more 
 on long, underground, patient headwork. But I also have not 
 words to express my fear and detestation of the morality and 
 political spirit and temper which has been the mainspring of 
 this great achievement of human intellect. It seems to me the 
 revival of the military barbarism of the kings and nobles of 
 the old times, with all the appliances of modern knowledge 
 to help them, and make them more horribly proud, arrogant, 
 relentless in their will, contemptuous of right in their 
 means, unmeasured in their claims. The French wickedness, 
 their conceit and lies and chattering insolence, seem to me 
 
240 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 almost childisL. ty tlie side of fhe deliberate pride of force 
 of wliioh the German nature is so capable, and wliicli seems 
 to me to have disclosed itself in such proportions since 
 Bismarck and William of Prussia became its masters, and 
 have taught it its strength. What it may be is seen in the 
 obstinate and insolent persistence in the cry about our want 
 of neutrality, when the Americans are allowed to go on ex- 
 porting arms a hundred-fold, without a word being said, with- 
 out the Germans choosing to see and believe that they do it. 
 I am rambling. I entirely give up Gambetta as a 
 charlatan and mischief-making busybody. I admit that if 
 Prance could not conquer without him it had better have 
 submitted to its fate. But I could not say so much without 
 at the same time saying that I cannot condemn in the same 
 way the policy itself of resistance, even at Paris, barring the 
 lies (though I hope Trochu did not know of Ghanzy's defeat 
 when he wrote his proclamation). I think, — granting war 
 at all, — that there are occasions, as in the struggle of the 
 Dutch against Spain, when disasters are a possession worth 
 having for a nation, almost as valuable as successes. They 
 are measures and standards of national temper, endurance, 
 and self-devotion ; and till the case is desperate, which I 
 think it is only just becoming, it seems to me that the 
 French are justified in resisting, and that great allowance 
 must be made for men in such straits. The miserable thing 
 is that there is no trace in them of that " jugement h&oique, 
 dont le principal usage est de distinguer Textraordinaire de 
 Timpossible." And it may be that people who have not 
 that power of seeing " le point de la possibilite " ought to 
 renounce a conflict which they ought to feel themselves 
 unable to direct. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 E. W. Chubch. 
 
II WHATLEY 241 
 
 In 1871 changes were preparing both for himself 
 and his friends. Bishop Fraser had gone to Manchester 
 in the previous year, and in January following, Dr. 
 Mozley accepted the Eegius Professorship of Theology 
 in Oxford. Mr. Church in writing to his brother, and 
 after commenting with great satisfaction upon the 
 appointment, continues : — 
 
 Whatley, SOth Jwmiamj 1871. 
 Mozley, I take it, will not draw. But no one of any 
 mind can mistake about his originality, subtlety, and grasp 
 of his subject. He inspires respect even if he fails to 
 convince, with antagonists like Tyndall and the secularists of 
 the National Beformer. . . . But it is very curious to go 
 back in remembrance twenty-five or thirty years ago, and 
 think of what Mozley and his prospects were then ; a man 
 whom a few people, such as Newman, or old Dr. Routh, 
 recognised as a man of singular powers, but whom, with his 
 slow ways and fastidious choice of thoughts and words, the 
 general opinion held very cheap ; who tumbled into a third 
 like his brother Tom ; who vainly knocked at the door for 
 fellowships, till Routh gave him one at Magdalen, and who 
 used to be thought of as a kind of waiter upon Pusey's 
 charity for lodging and work. But Newman and Routh 
 were right in their judgment. 
 
 In August his own time had come. The Deanery of 
 St. Paul's, vacant by the death of Dean Hansel in July, 
 was offered him by Mr. Gladstone, and after long hesi- 
 tation on his part, and much pressure from his friends 
 was finally accepted by him. 
 
 B 
 
242 DEAN CHUKOH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 To De, Newman. 
 
 Whatlbt, 25th August 1871. 
 
 My dear Newman — It was settled on Wednesday. 
 Gladstone would not let me off. Whetlier I was weak, and 
 a coward in yielding, I cannot tell. I only know that every 
 day makes me feel the change more immediately bitter, and 
 more formidable for the future. I hope I may have a few 
 weeks' respite. I should like very much to see you if I can, 
 and if I may. 
 
 Much has been said about coveting great place, and much 
 about shirking responsibilities. I think that thereis still some- 
 thing wanting to be said about the doctrine of the son of Sirach, 
 about a man " trusting his own soul," and about there being 
 no man living " more faithful unto him than it." " For a 
 man's mind is sometimes wont to tell him more than seven 
 watchmen, who sit above, in a high tower" (Eccles. xxxii. 
 23 ; xxxvii. 13, 14). This quaint phrase runs much in my 
 mind. — Ever yours affectionately, E. W. Church. 
 
 A nearer view brought upon him, as a heavy burden, 
 the sense both of the responsibilities of his new office 
 and the character which his work was to assume. " I 
 have been up to survey St. Paul's, staying with Liddon," 
 he writes to Dr. Mozley. 
 
 Whatley, Slst August 1871. 
 
 It is clear that what I am to come in for is very tough 
 practical business, and that I am not to be as other Deans 
 have been. It is to set St.' Paul's in order, as the great 
 English cathedral, before the eyes of the country. I mean 
 that this is what Gladstone has in view, and what Liddon, 
 Gregory, and partially Lightfoot expect of their Dean. I 
 
n WHATLEY 243 
 
 have three things before me : (1) To make a bargain, with 
 
 the Ecclesiastical Commission about the whole future 
 
 revemaes of St. Paul's, and get from them what will be 
 
 necessary for the works and wants, material and other, of 
 
 the reformed cathedral. (2) To carry on the architectural 
 
 restoration, for which a quarter of a million is the sum 
 
 demanded. (3) To fight and reduce to order a refractory and 
 
 difficult staff of singing men, etc., strong in their charters 
 
 and inherited abuses. I don't mean that all this is to be 
 
 done single-handed, but the responsibility will fall on the 
 
 Dean. 
 
 ■Whatlbt, \6fh September 1871. 
 
 I am in the thick of papers left by Mansel about the 
 
 arrangement with the Ecclesiastical Commissioners, which is 
 
 the first thing I shall have to take part in. St. Paul's 
 
 cannot get on, especially with all the grand plans afoot, 
 
 without large revenues ; and the Commission, besides other 
 
 things, probably doubt what guarantee they have that if 
 
 we get it, we shall spend it rightly, so we shall probably 
 
 be cut close. But they ought to be liberal. I have to go to 
 
 Gregory at Lambeth about this next week. . . ' . — Yours 
 
 affectionately, K. W. C. 
 
 The parting came at length. What it cost him to 
 give up the quiet happiness which had grown up round 
 the nineteen years of his life at Whatley may best he 
 told in his own words. They are words which also tell 
 the sorrowful apprehension with which he drew near 
 to his great tasks in London. That apprehension, 
 deliherate and serious as it was, was falsified in large 
 part as his work went forward. But the record of such 
 heart-sinkings in the presence of heavy responsibilities 
 
244 DEAN CHUKCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 and demands, has a value that is enhanced rather than 
 cancelled by the happiness which afterwards corrected 
 it — a value so plain as to warrant perhaps the insertion 
 of the following letter in its completeness : — 
 
 To Db. Asa Gray. 
 
 Whatlet, Wfh October 1871. 
 
 My dbae Friend — I am ashamed of myself that your 
 letter should come before I had written to you. But my 
 necessary letter-writing has been more than usual of late, 
 and at last my delays and puttings off have found me out. 
 Mrs. Church indeed wrote to Mrs. Gray. But you ought 
 not to have heard of a change in which you have taken 
 such interest from any one but myself And I suppose you 
 heard it from the papers before my wife's note came. 
 
 It is now nearly two months since the first step was 
 made, and this day week, the 17th, I am to. be installed. 
 And now what shall I say to you, after having had these 
 two months to cool from the first -surprise, and to face 
 quietly and reasonably what is before me for the rest of my 
 life? 
 
 Pardon me, my dear friend, if I do not write as you 
 would wish me to write. I mean, and I hope I shall be 
 able, with God's help, to do and to bear the duties and the 
 accidents of my new state. And though I feel it is a shame 
 to damp the satisfaction — in some it is the joy — of my dear 
 friends, at what they believe to be what is good both for me 
 and for God's Church, yet there are some who will like even 
 more to know the truth of what I think and feel about it ; 
 and you are one, even above all my friends in England, to 
 whom I can speak with the belief that from your distance 
 
n WHATLEY 245 
 
 and your point of view, you can, even more than ttey, allow 
 for and understand the way I look at things. I wish I 
 could say I was reconciled to what is to be. But I am 
 not; and I cannot expect to be. I have made a great 
 mistake, the mistake of not knowing how to say no to warm 
 and pressing instances from people whom I respected, when 
 my own judgment was really quite clear the other way. 
 This comes on me more and more strongly every day. It 
 may perhaps be more or less forgotten in the whirl of 
 business. But in these quiet intervening days before 
 'business begins, when I have heard all that is to be said, 
 and have thought much and anxiously about the whole 
 matter, that is the conclusion which remains. I am sure it 
 is but the too true one. I have made a great mistake in 
 .exchanging this peaceful life, where I could work calmly 
 and at my leisure, for that tangle and whirlpool of ecclesi- 
 astical politics in which so few people see their way, or are 
 strong enough to meet temptations which are subtler, and 
 keener, and of a worse order than those of politics. 
 
 I know that this is idle and vain talking ; you shall not 
 have any more of it after this. But you will not mind my 
 telling you, once for all, before this treadmill work begins, 
 how happy my life has been these nineteen years, what 
 blessings I have enjoyed in the sense of liberty, in being 
 able to worship and serve away from the strife of tongues, 
 in the perpetual, delight of the beauty of nature all round, 
 of sun, and air, and green fields and flowers, in the kindness 
 of friends in high estate and still more in low, in the deep 
 and growing affection at home, every year becoming richer 
 and more charming. 
 
 I have not valued them, I have not used them, as I 
 ought. I dare say it is very good, perhaps necessary, for 
 
246 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 me that they shoxikl be taken away. But it is very bitter 
 to take leave of them, and know that they will never come 
 again as they have been. And if I believed that the sacrifice 
 was for an end which would compensate for it, and required 
 it, I should be more content. But it is a sacrifice en pure 
 perte. The place — one of hard business administration, 
 organisation, management of a troublesome and powerful 
 staff, of representation and speech-making, of reform of old 
 and strong abuses — ^is not fit for me, nor I for it. What I 
 could do, I shall have neither time nor strength for longer ; 
 what I shall have to do, I have neither aptitude nor experi- 
 ence for. It used to be a place of literary leisure ; and so 
 it was under Milman. But times are changed. What is 
 required now is that St. Paul's should waken up from its 
 long slumber, and show what use it is of, and how it can 
 justify its existence as the great central church of London. 
 The end and purpose is a great and right one; but the 
 detail of weary official work, which such a reform involves, 
 few can guess. And for this, and for all this going right, 
 with energy, with good sense, with due power of finding and 
 using resources, I am to make myself responsible. Indeed, 
 this is not my line. 
 
 In truth I cannot but look at my going to London as an 
 experiment. I should not be surprised if I did not stay 
 there a year. I have not the least notion how fer I 
 can bear the huge change from the country, with its fresh 
 air and simple ways of life, to the gloomy atmosphere (and 
 the Deanery is like a prison, shut up between high walls), 
 and big dinners, and late hours of London. My health may 
 break up, and then I shaU go — ^but if I stay, it really is 
 more possible than it was, that I may find my way across 
 the sea to you. That would be very pleasant. . . . 
 
II WHATLEY 247 
 
 I must finish. Remember us both most affectionately to 
 Mrs. Gray. I hope, tell her, to see her and you again ; but 
 I don't care much to show her the gloomy magnificence 
 under which my work is to be done for the future. I wish 
 I could send you, perhaps I may, a photograph of our little 
 church here, which we have just put to rights, and in which 
 it is a pleasure to say our prayers ; — and now it has to be 
 left. — Ever yours affectionately, R. W. Ohdeoh. 
 
 Your next letter had better be addressed, Deanery, St. 
 Paul's, London. 
 
PAET III 
 
 ST. PATJL'S 
 
 The letters greeting the Dean's appointment to St. 
 Paul's are very different in tone from the one which 
 closes the record of his Whatley life. His friends felt 
 nothing of the doubt with which he himself was 
 oppressed ; St. Paul's seemed to them the very place 
 fitted for him. From Dean Stanley, who eight years 
 before had left Oxford for the Deanery at Westminster, 
 came a characteristic note of welcome. "If together," 
 he wrote, " we cannot do something for London, may 
 the malison of St. Peter and St. Paul fall upon us." 
 And from Mr. Gladstone, in reply to Sir Eichard 
 Church, who from Athens had written to express his 
 pleasure at his nephew's appointment, come words as 
 confident — "You can hardly be more pleased than I 
 am that we have at length drawn forth your nephew 
 from his retirement, and induced him to assume a 
 position more conformable to his powers and his deserts. 
 Quaesitam meritis sume superbiam. It has been by merit 
 and service only that he has reached his high position ; 
 
PABT III ST. PAUL'S 249 
 
 but that, being what he is, he should also be your 
 nephew, is to me a source of additional satisfaction." 
 
 Once at St. Paul's, as the preceding letters have 
 shown, the Dean found his work awaiting him. The 
 task of fitting St. Paul's to become a centre of spiritual 
 life and influence in London, and of enabling it by- 
 measures of administrative reorganisation and reform 
 to meet the changed conditions and heavier demands 
 of cathedral work, was no light or easy one ; and it was 
 to such a task that the Dean with the Chapter, of which 
 he was the head, had at once to set themselves. The 
 Dean's letters refer but seldom to this part of his work 
 at St. Paul's, although for many years it continued to be 
 the closest and most responsible occupation of his daily 
 life. Something of its special character, as well as of 
 the wider aspects of his influence in London, may be 
 learnt from the sketch which follows, by Canon Scott 
 Holland, who during the later years of the Dean's life 
 was intimately associated with him alike as friend and 
 colleague. 
 
 "Even as undergraduates at Oxford in 1871, we 
 could feel the dramatic force of the stroke by which 
 Mr. Grladstone transferred Eichard W. Church from the 
 secrecy of his Somersetshire retreat to the heart of 
 London. 
 
 "Oxford memories are, indeed, apt to.be very short 
 when once a man has dropped out of his place there. 
 How can it be otherwise with generations that come 
 and are gone within a four-years' span ? 
 
250 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 "But the remembrance, the tradition of 'Church 
 of Oriel ' was still fresh with us. -His name was knit 
 into the old Tractarian story; it mingled with the 
 records of J. H. Newman, whose personality still 
 exercised over us that intimate fascination which was 
 so peculiarly his own. Everything that belonged to 
 that historic movement had about it something heroic 
 and imperishable. And we were well aware, therefore, 
 of what might be found in that Whatley Rectory; 
 and we knew that, in certain fields of critical history, 
 there was one hidden there to whom we should look 
 for a supreme judgment ; and we debated what was 
 the work which he was probably employed in per- 
 fecting. And now and again we trooped to St. Mary's, 
 eager to see the hero of the Proctorial Veto in 1845 ; 
 and we listened with deepened interest to the preacher, 
 as we noted, with the naive surprise of young men, 
 the many faces among the congregation of dons 
 whom it was very rare to see at a University sermon. 
 We began to recognise that strange consent, in later 
 days so unique, which made men of every type and 
 party, whatever their quarrels or differences, somehow, 
 always, accept ' Church of Oriel.' Eound every other 
 name there was hot debate, attack and defence, 
 challenge and counter - challenge. But no one ever 
 discussed the worth or the authority of this name ; it 
 was an established matter, about which there was no 
 division of opinion. 
 
 " So we saw, so we learned. And when, therefore, 
 Mr. Gladstone made it his most earnest and urgent 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 251 
 
 business to get Church to the Deanery of St. Paul's 
 on the first opportunity that offered, we only felt 
 that he had done what Oxford looked to Mm to do. 
 We entered eagerly into his convictions and hopes. 
 There was intense interest in the sudden appointment, 
 but no surprise. 
 
 "There was only one person of those who knew 
 anything whatever of the situation, who had any 
 doubt or difficulty about the matter. That was Church 
 himself. We have seen, in his letter to Dr. Asa Gray, 
 how his detestation of personal prominence, his ingrained 
 reserve, his self-depreciation, his horror of all loud and 
 brawling life, combined with his deep love of quiet work 
 among the poor, and his passion for all that was peace- 
 ful and restrained in the ' tender grace ' of a country 
 home, to make him offer to this proposal a strenuous 
 resistance which only yielded under extreme pressure, 
 and which protested to the last against its own sub- 
 mission. When, years after, he had been engaged in an 
 attempt to induce Dr. Liddon to consider the question 
 of a bishopric, I remember well the amused smile with 
 which he told me how, as he listened to Liddon's fervid 
 arguments against any such offer being made him, he 
 could not help recalling the way in which that very 
 same fervour had disposed of .the very same arguments 
 when he himself had used them to Liddon as his own 
 reason for declining the Deanery. 
 
 "What it cost him to leave Whatley, those only 
 know who, taking into account his extreme avoidance 
 of every form of personal expression in public, have 
 
252 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 read, in Hs first volume of Village Sermons, his farewell 
 to the peasant-folk whom he loved so dearly — a farewell 
 which echoes the refrain of that most pathetic of all 
 farewells in English literature, uttered once in Little^ 
 more Church and ringing for ever in the ears of aU who 
 had ever loved John Henry Newman. 
 
 " And, again, what it cost him to face the storm and 
 stress of roaring London, those only can tell who saw 
 his misery during his first yea,r in St. Paul's Churchyard. 
 Misery is not too strong a word to express the recoil of 
 his whole manhood from all that was involved in the 
 position of a great Church dignitary, thrust into promin- 
 ence at every turn, encompassed with petty pomps, and 
 forced into a multitude of public afiairs. 
 
 " And indeed the task that met him was one that 
 would sharply strain the fine and nervous organisation 
 of a scholar. It was the task of proving that St. Paul's 
 Cathedral could justify its position as the central house 
 of worship for the Church in London. Hitherto it had 
 been a magnificent architectural monument, waiting, in 
 dignified renown, for the discovery of its activities. Its 
 main bulk lay practically idle, except for special occa- 
 sions such as the festival of the charity children, or on 
 great public functions such as the burial of a hero. At 
 all other times, over the length and breadth of its large 
 area, cold, naked, and unoccupied, mooning sight-seers 
 roamed at large. Its daily services had always been 
 hidden away in the choir, behind the thick organ screen 
 against which Wren had so vehemently protested. There, 
 in seclusion, a tiny body of cultivated musicians sang to 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 253 
 
 a sprinkled remnant of worshippers. Everything was 
 done on the smallest scale, and much was mean and 
 slovenly to the last degree. The attendance of the 
 Chapter, and of the cathedral staff, was reduced to a 
 minimum. There was little attempt at discipline or at 
 dignity in the conduct of the daily services. An elo- 
 quent preacher could, of course, make a difference at St. 
 Paul's as well as elsewhere, and no one would wish to 
 forget the stir caused by the beauty and the nobility of 
 sermons like those of Henry Melvill. For him the small 
 space of the choir, which alone could be used, would be 
 thronged. But any such momentary stir came and 
 went with the preacher. It had no relation to the 
 cathedral as such ; it had no bearing upon its corporate 
 worship, nor did it affect its ordinary existence, except 
 for the one afternoon service on the Sundays when this 
 or that preacher was in residence. For the rest of the 
 week, the cathedral droned on as usual. 
 
 " Two main efforts had, indeed, been made to correct 
 this state of things, both during the chieftaincy of the 
 great student and poet, Dean Milman. First, under 
 the insistent pressure of Bishop Tait, special services 
 had been begun under the dome on Sunday evenings 
 during a certain portion of each year. The terrors that 
 obstructed the original introduction of these services in 
 1858 had been dispelled, and though they still figured 
 as acts of supererogation, carried along under temporary 
 arrangements for choir and congregation, they had proved 
 to what use the full space of the cathedral might be put. 
 
 " Secondly, an appeal had been set moving by Dean 
 
254 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 Milman on behalf of the decoration of the church, 
 without which its bare walls, discoloured by mouldering 
 distemper, were bound to chill the heart out of the 
 worship offered there, and to invite irreverence or 
 uncomeliness. Through the effort thus made, in 1860, 
 an effective touch of gilding was introduced into the 
 roof of the choir, and into the great arches and drum 
 of the dome; and a beginning was made with the 
 mosaics in the dome spandrils. The Dean, by his book 
 on the cathedral, had eloquently expressed the need 
 of splendid decorative treatment. Here, again, as in 
 the dome services, the movement was prophetic. It 
 directed attention on what had to be done; it gave 
 practical evidence of its possibility ; it prepared the way 
 for a fuller achievement. 
 
 "The task then had been set for the new generation. 
 Its two departments were marked out in the broad : (1) 
 the whole cathedral must be used from end to end for 
 public worship ; and (2) the whole cathedral must be 
 endowed with the living warmth which should belong 
 to a house of prayer and praise, into which men might 
 freely enter, and where, as they entered, they could 
 not but pronounce, ' This is none other than the House 
 of God ; and this is the Gate of Heaven.' 
 
 " The task was set : now to carry it out. To do so, 
 on an adequate and intelligent scale, involved a recon- 
 struction of the cathedral organisation from end to end. 
 The staff, the fabric, the funds, the statutes — all these 
 were, as they stood, ridiculously unequal to the work tc 
 be taken in hand. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 255 
 
 " For what was it that was required ? First, it was 
 essential that the worship carried on in the central 
 church of London should be continuous as the life which 
 it was needed to sanctify. It must be an ever-present 
 fact, accompanying with its regular successions the 
 human movement that surged around it. Morning, 
 noon, and evening there it must be, unfailing, un- 
 flagging : not intermittently fiUing a pause on Sundays, 
 but felt as an incessant pressure throughout the 
 thronging occupation . of the week. Men, when they 
 turned in at the doors, must find it continually 
 happening ; they must be able to find its succour with 
 regularity and security ; they must be sure that it will 
 be there when they want it. 
 
 " And, secondly, the worship must not only have the 
 mark of continuity, but also that of dignity and grace. 
 It must uplift something of an ideal ; it must be honour- 
 able, seemly, reverent ; it must show that there is a per- 
 fection to be sought in these matters; and that here, in 
 the Church's cathedral, men are putting their very best 
 into the acts by which they hold communion with their 
 God and Saviour. There must be no sign of carelessness, 
 or of meanness, or of sordid sloth, or of indifference. 
 It must be clear that love has thought it worth while to 
 pay that close attention to the details which betokens 
 its affectionate delight in what it is about. 
 
 " And, above all, the central Eucharistic Act of the 
 Church's Communion with God must occupy the house 
 which was built to enshrine it. It must fill its due place. 
 It must be always at hand, to be found by all who may 
 
256 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 desire it. It must open each day with its sanction. It 
 must be brought out of the corner in which it has 
 hitherto lurked — the privilege of a secluded knot who 
 have it all to themselves at the obscure end of a Sunday 
 morning service. It must show itseK as the culminating 
 moment of public worship, to which the varied gifts of 
 music and art, by which men heighten their devotion, 
 contribute their finest and fullest ministrations. 
 
 "Again, this worship, continuous and honourable, 
 must be also on a large scale ; it must cover the ground 
 allotted to it. The typical cathedral service in England 
 is far too much inclined to shut itself up in a nook, and 
 there delicately pipe to a ring of select experts. At St. 
 Paul's, with its Palladian spaciousness, with its unbroken 
 vistas ■) at St. Paul's, set upon the central platform in 
 the midst of enormous populations, — it was essential 
 that the appeal should be wide-winged ; its music must 
 be full-voiced, powerful, abundant; it should reach to 
 all parts of the building ; it must be capable of drawing 
 multitudes under its spell. 
 
 " Once more, it must not only be large in range, but 
 also given freely. There should be no Kmitation of the 
 use of the cathedral by the suggestion of payment, or 
 of reserved .or appropriated seats ; there should be no 
 challenging vergers, no obstruction to free movement, 
 no inquiries, no suspicions, no exclusions, no shaking of 
 the money-bag. The opportunity of worship must be 
 open to all, without stint. Everything must be done to 
 emphasise the invitation, ' Ho, every one that thirsteth, 
 come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 257 
 
 come ye, buy and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk 
 without money, and without price.' The endowments 
 of art, the enrichments of music, the dignity of worship, 
 — these should be offered at their very best, as the free 
 inheritance of all who should go out and come in, be 
 they rich or poor, known or unknown. 
 
 "And, lastly, the cathedral must be brought into 
 sensitive touch with the multitudinous forms of Diocesan 
 life. The day of sterile isolation must pass away, during 
 which the Church in London had hardly been aware, so 
 far as its practical work went, whether it had a cathedral 
 or not. It is true that London Diocesan organisation 
 was at that date singularly backward ; but that was all 
 the more reason why the need of a central hearth should 
 be satisfied. The Church, in its parochial activities, was 
 intensely alive ; and the rise in parochial activity had 
 forced Churchmen to feel the necessity of large united 
 gatherings at which the swarms of scattered workers, 
 who were bound by the tie of a common cause, should 
 look each other in the face, and be enheartened by the 
 glow of a felt fellowship. Missions, committees, guilds, 
 leagues, societies, associations, — all these, in their mani- 
 fold varieties, should find opportunity for union, in cor- 
 porate acts of worship, before the one altar, under the 
 mothering dome. 
 
 " It was, indeed, an inspiring task to realise in its 
 completeness. But what would it not ask, at every turn, 
 of him who was to head it 1 What breaches would have 
 to be driven into ingrained habits ! What collisions with 
 vested interests and obstructive traditions, and solid 
 
258 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 blocks of resistant sloth ! What rough and ready treat- 
 ment would be required in dealing with those immemorial 
 conditions which made advance impossible, and with 
 characters and men who were without the faculty to 
 understand what was now to be required of them ! Such 
 a transformation as we have sketched can only be lightly 
 taken in hand by those who are thick-skinned enough 
 to disregard the insulting degradation that inevitably 
 belongs to conflicts with angry fellow-men. To the new 
 Dean, resolute and dauntless as was his nature, such 
 personal incidents had in them the cruelty of torture. 
 
 " On the other hand, tough as was the nature of the 
 work in hand, there was much to set against its severity. 
 For he had arrived at the Deanery at the most favour- 
 able moment that could possibly be imagined. The 
 conditions vital to the impending change had all been 
 prepared with curious felicity. The whole of the Chapter 
 who had grown up under the older regime had died 
 within three years, and the new men were simply wait- 
 ing for the opportunity to begin. They were alive to 
 all the rising demands which the quickened Church hfe 
 must make on a cathedral ; they possessed among them 
 a brilliant combination of the very gifts which could 
 enable them to respond to those demands. Gregory 
 had been appointed by Lord Beaconsfield in 1868; 
 Liddon by Mr. Gladstone in 1869; Lightfoot by the 
 same judgment in 1870. Already the movement of a 
 new activity was astir. The crowds which came to 
 Liddon's sermons had carried the ordinary Sunday 
 service out of the choir into the dome ; and, once there, 
 
in 
 
 ST. PAUL'S 259 
 
 it never went back. The rearrangement of the whole 
 choir was under consideration and experiment. Lec- 
 tures and services in the chapter-house for city men were 
 being schemed. The committee for the decoration of 
 the cathedral, which had stagnated, had been revived. 
 And, moreover, a decisive step had been taken towards 
 grappling with the preliminary problem which was 
 bound to precede all serious reform. For the recon- 
 struction of a cathedral, as of every other institution, 
 depends, for its possibility, on finance. St. Paul's could 
 never be in a position to realise these wide public 
 obligations tmtil it had reorganised its resources with a 
 distinct regard to the functions that it was required to 
 fulfil. This involved coming to terms with the Ecclesi- 
 astical Commissioners as to the redistribution of ancient 
 endowments. That inevitable act had been delayed 
 and delayed. And the delay, however much it may 
 have been due to sluggishness or to the temper of sheer 
 obstruction, had, at least, permitted it so to happen that 
 when, at last, the late hour struck, the period for dis- 
 trusting, decrying, starving the cathedrals had passed, 
 and men were capable of apprehending, with a larger 
 intelligence, the splendid uses, so vital and so imperative, 
 which these great homes of the Catholic Church could 
 alone fulfil. When, therefore, during the short reign 
 of Dean Mansel, the resolution to strike a bargain with 
 the Commissioners was arrived at, Canon Gregory, to 
 whom, as treasiu-er, the work of fighting for terms fell, 
 had gone into the fray possessed of a distinct and com- 
 plete conception of the work that a cathedral might do, 
 
260 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 and of the funds that would be necessary to its achieve- 
 ment. He had planned out this work on a large scale, 
 with the conviction that whatever the Metropolitan 
 Cathedral attempted to do should be done with nobility 
 and distinction. With this plan before him he demanded 
 a staff, an equipment, a plant, a stock of corporate re- 
 sources, adequate to the intention. These, instead of 
 being pinched down to the lowest level of eJBBciency, 
 must be enlarged and enriched beyond their present 
 scope to meet the strain of multiplied services, and of 
 a church continuously open and in use. The Commis- 
 sioners were impressed with the practical reality of the 
 treasurer's design, and recognised that his large demands 
 were all regulated by a strict eye to business. They 
 became content to entrust the cathedral with the funds 
 that such a scheme necessitated. The actual settlement 
 of the scheme, in all its details, occupied most of the 
 first years of the new Dean's rule. It involved a com- 
 plete revision of each and every department of the 
 cathedral staff. But it was an immense gain for him 
 that the preliminaries were through and that all was in 
 train by the time that he arrived, and that he inherited 
 a treasurer keen to press on with a work already in hand 
 and intimately congenial. 
 
 "The financial condition, then, was abeady singu- 
 larly favourable, and it was the same with the spiritual 
 revival. The personal factor, by which the claim of St. 
 Paul's to become once more a wide spiritual home for 
 London could make itself heard and felt over the hearts 
 of large multitudes, was to be found in the preaching of 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 261 
 
 Dr. Liddon. That voice reached far and wide. It fixed 
 the attention of the whole city on what was going 
 forward in its midst. It kindled the imagination, so 
 that the big world outside was prepared for great things. 
 It compelled men to treat seriously what was done. No 
 one could suppose that the changes in the services and 
 ritual at St. Paul's were superficial or formal or of small 
 account, so long as that voice rang on, like a trumpet, 
 telling of righteousness and temperance and judgment, 
 preaching ever and always, with personal passion of 
 belief, Jesus Christ and Him crucified. It is impossible 
 to exaggerate the value of Liddon's presence for these 
 twenty years at St. Paul's, in the way of making accept- 
 able and justifiable to reasonable men the type of 
 worship which was to be asserted under the leadership 
 which now made it practicable. And it was of unspeak- 
 able importance, therefore, that Liddon should have been 
 what he was to the new Dean. Not only were they in 
 absolute accord on the practical aims which they were 
 bent on making good, but Liddon placed also at the 
 Dean's service an enthusiastic veneration for one who 
 was, for him, the ideal of that perfected and chastened 
 Christian character which Tractarianism, in its highest 
 mood, had fostered. Chivalrous loyalty belonged to the 
 innermost fibre of Liddon's nature ; and all of it was 
 freely offered to him whom he was delighted to accept 
 as his chief. There was nothing which he would not 
 submit to the Dean's verdict. His delicate sensitiveness 
 would be ever on the qui-vive to interpret and to ratify 
 the Dean's judgment. There was no one in England, 
 
262 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 except Dr. Pusey himself, to whose authority he could 
 more joyfully and entirely surrender himself. 
 
 " Gregory and Liddon, then, were already in action, 
 and all their activity was at the immediate disposal of 
 their new head. To them had just been added Light- 
 foot, with his unrivalled reputation as a critical scholar, 
 his glowing ardour of speech, his robust sense of equity, 
 his delightful geniality. There could never be any 
 difficulty in securing his co-operation in anything that 
 made for the effective utilisation of the great church ; 
 and the united force of such a body carried along with 
 it the kiudly courtesy of Bishop Claughton, who had 
 just been appointed to the Archdeacon's staU. Thus 
 the Dean found himself in the rare position of heading 
 a Chapter which was prepared to act with practical 
 unanimity. It was not as is so usual in cathedral 
 bodies, an odd assortment of stray goods, a collection of 
 contradictory specimens, each of which had been specially 
 selected in order to neutralise the others. It was a 
 corporate body that was animated by a single purpose, 
 and possessed of sufficient coherence to prosecute this 
 purpose with some consistency and continuity of will. 
 It was ready and able to act together in its integrity, so 
 that it might create a regularity in the life and the 
 worship associated with the cathedral, such as would 
 survive the monthly succession of canons in residence. 
 These might come and go; but the tone, the atmo- 
 sphere, the tjrpe, of which each, during office, was the 
 responsible guardian, would abide unchanged now that 
 the sequence of liturgical actions and ordered services, 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 263 
 
 carefully considered and fixed by a united Chapter, 
 could be laid out on authoritative lines and secured 
 against the whims and freaks of individualism. It was 
 to this unity of purpose and mind that Dr. Liddon con- 
 tinually attributed all that the Chapter succeeded in 
 achieving at St. Paul's ; and this unity, as he was never 
 tired of asserting, became a practical fact through the 
 incomparable authority that resided in the character of 
 the Dean. He was so entirely free from all suspicion of 
 personal motives ; so obviously single-minded ; so direct, 
 and real, and true ; so incapable of selfishness, or small- 
 ness of any kind, — that it became possible for the 
 Chapter to go decisively forward in a fixed direction, 
 without losing the confidence of those outside or the 
 harmony of those within. 
 
 " It is needless to enter into the details of the labour 
 thrown upon the Dean during this reconstruction of the 
 cathedral organisation. It took years to work through 
 the whole scheme ; it involved new statutes, new men, 
 new buildings. It left upon him the memory of sharp 
 anxieties and rough personal conflicts, to which he could 
 hardly bear to refer in later days, and then only with 
 ominous shudders. 
 
 "But, on the other hand, I never had known the 
 measure of his thankfulness for what had been done 
 until, at the close of his life, before one of his last 
 departures for abroad, when he thought himself dying, 
 he took me apart and charged me, with the utmost 
 solemnity and with something like vehemence, to see to 
 it that no memorial of any kind or shape should be 
 
264 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 placed of him in the cathedral ; he could hardly desire 
 even that his name should be recorded on its walls ; it 
 was enough, he said, for him, and more than enough, 
 that he should have been permitted to be associated 
 with such a momentous work of revival. 
 
 " It should be said, and said with emphasis, that all 
 through this critical time the Bishop of London bravely 
 supported all the changes which, as visitor, he was 
 required to sanction. Without this consistent and 
 favourable support all the thoroughness of the reform 
 would have been lost. 
 
 "It is impossible to single out points in which the 
 Dean's initiative can be directly detected. Indeed, a 
 marked initiative would not be in his manner. He 
 would not formulate proposals, nor frame a policy. 
 That would be wholly unlike him. Rather, within the 
 Chapter, as without in his relations to the Church at 
 large, he stood as a judicial conscience, up to the 
 standard of which all must be brought. If it was a 
 matter of liturgical order or devotional rule, Liddon 
 would be set to frame a scheme ; if it was a bit of 
 financial or administrative business, Gregory would 
 make his proposal. But, always, there was a judgment 
 to face which would be anticipated by each as they 
 worked at this task. Every plan must be such as would 
 satisfy the sensitive and delicate estimate of right or 
 wrong which was so pre-eminently characteristic of the 
 Dean. It was impossible to bring before him anything 
 shabby, or ungainly, or raw, or unseemly, or careless. 
 His presence held in it a capacity for rebuke which 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 265 
 
 acted as a perpetual check that prevented such lapses 
 occurring. No one could venture on taking the Dean 
 lightly. Anything done under his eye had, perforce, to 
 be done at the best level that the conditions permitted. 
 It was in this way that his influence, without formally 
 initiating, was felt at every turn, and permeated every 
 portion of the action that was taken to render the 
 cathedral effective. It was always there, to be taken 
 into very serious account. It made incessant demands 
 that things should be done in the best possible way. 
 His approval was recognised, at once, as conveying sanc- 
 tion — as disposing of doubts and hesitations. His dis- 
 satisfaction was a final objection ; the matter must drop. 
 All this would iiappen almost in silence ; certainly, 
 without much argument. He had but to show how he 
 stood, and every one recognised the result without 
 question or debate. It was as if a verdict went out 
 from him by sheer necessity of nature — that inevitable 
 verdict which is the note of spiritual mastery and of 
 disciplined excellence. I never met any one with whom 
 this effect was so instinctive and so vital ; and it was all 
 the more striking because of the noticeable absence of 
 all the pedantries of self-assertion. No one could abhor 
 with a more profound abhorrence than he the priggish 
 pose of the moral censot. His vivid humour, his intense 
 reality, his pure naturalness — all these made any such 
 personal assumption of superiority inconceivable to him. 
 No temper could possibly be more remote from him than 
 this. He- never even suggested it by anything that he 
 did or said Yet, in spite of his instinct of self-efface- 
 
266 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 ment, in spite of his elastic sympathies, in spite of his 
 quiet gentleness, in spite of his innate reserve, the fine- 
 ness of his judgment told instantaneously, like the keen 
 edge of a knife. No one could be with him and not feel 
 himself put to proof under scrutiny that forbade trifling 
 and broke up disguise. He might be most tender, most 
 affectionate ; but, for all that, you knew still that you 
 were moving under the eye of a judge whose verdict 
 was a matter that neither you nor any one else could 
 afford to ignore. 
 
 "It is well to dwell on this, because herein lay the 
 final secret of the impression he produced ; yet only 
 those who came into personal contact with him could 
 be thoroughly aware of it. And this has led to a 
 popular conception of him which omits his cardinal 
 characteristic. People knew of him as the quiet, re- 
 fined scholar of exquisite taste. They heard of his 
 humility, his self-abnegation, his shrinking from pub- 
 licity, his avoidance of high position, his love of re- 
 tirement, his unworldly simplicity. They saw, perhaps, 
 a slight, thin figure glide in and out of St. Paul's, or 
 slip low down to kneel on the floor in the Dean's stall. 
 At a distance, in the big place, it was hard to dis- 
 tinguish any marked feature in the small head and 
 spare face. He seldom appeared at fa,ny public gather- 
 ing or platform. If he went about, he was, from his 
 slightness of physique, as well as from his habit of 
 withdrawal, easily unnoticed. And the result was that 
 he was regarded with the honour given to some shy 
 recluse, some delicate student, devout, lowly, perhaps 
 
Ill 
 
 ST. PAUL'S 267 
 
 timid, who wrote beautiful books, and who was dearly 
 loved in private by those who knew him, and whose 
 intimacy with J. H. Newman or Mr. Gladstone was a 
 witness to his personal charm as a man of exceptional 
 culture. 
 
 "Now this impression, however natural, is ridicul- 
 ously inadequate, just because it fails to convey a hint 
 of the primary quality which constituted the special 
 power of his personality. That quality was judgment. 
 He possessed judgment : that is what we should begin 
 by saying of him, if any one asked why we thought 
 •him so great. No one in England could be counted 
 upon to give so high and fine and sane and robust a 
 decision on matters brought before him. He gained 
 this judicial authority by a rare combination of the 
 special qualities which constitute right judgment. His 
 touch on a subject was singularly true : he had strangely 
 few infirmities, or prejudices, or lapses ; he had all the 
 felicitous instincts of an intelligence thoroughly trained 
 and in hand ; and, above all, he brought into play a 
 conscience — a conscience peculiarly manly, firm, cour- 
 ageous, severe. 
 
 "Here, in the direction of conscience, lay the central 
 impulse of his life. It might show itself, as it obviously 
 did, in the field of scholarship, as an instrument of 
 literary criticism ; or, again, it might make his study of 
 Lord Bacon a perfect type of the method in which a 
 moral verdict can be delivered through the impartial 
 medium of history. But this was not all. It was in 
 keen exercise over all the life of conduct, social, political, 
 
268 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 moral. It impelled him to fix his deepest intellectual 
 interest on the study of conduct and character in nations 
 and races ; and, again, on the application of the Chris- 
 tian code of ethics to modern society. It made him 
 passionately alive to all that was going forward in 
 Church and State, where he was intensely sensitive to 
 the awful seriousness of the moral issues at stake. 
 The daily affairs of politics and diplomacy were for 
 him the active scene on which good or evil worked out 
 their immemorial war ; and he watched on at the con- 
 flict with the solemn zeal of a prophet, in whose eyes 
 Grod's honour was engaged. It was this which explains • 
 the heat of his words at a time like that of the Bulgarian 
 massacres. The decision to be taken at that hour by 
 England was felt by him to be charged with aU the 
 momentous significance that would belong to a personal 
 choice between right and wrong. At such a public 
 crisis, as in many a private one, a fire of moral indigna- 
 tion would suddenly reveal itself in him which startled 
 the ordinary man. "We are used to such passion over 
 personal wrongs ; there it gives us no surprise. But a 
 flame of righteous anger that has no trace of personal 
 injury in it, and that leaps up at the sight of public 
 wrong because it is wrong, and for no other reason — 
 this is rare indeed. And it was all the more startling, 
 as it sprang from one so associated with courteous 
 gentleness as the Dean. Yet there it was. No one 
 could mistake it. It was the pure, white anger of an 
 outraged conscience. "When once you had caught sight 
 of it you never forgot it. It was recognised as the 
 
HI ST. PAUL'S 269 
 
 typical expression of his personality. I have known 
 people who have said that it was the only human ex- 
 perience which gave them a clue to what was meant by 
 the paradox of St. John, 'the wrath of the Lamb.' 
 Certainly, I can imagine no one whose rebuke would 
 be more terrible to undergo. One or two occasions on 
 which I saw him deal with a committed offence remain 
 imprinted on my imagination with unparalleled vivid- 
 ness. His condemnation was a punishment in itself 
 at which one trembled. Certainly, the minor officials 
 of the cathedral, whose contact with him was chiefly 
 through matters of discipline, found him strangely full 
 of awe. 
 
 "Not that his natural temper forbade lightness and 
 gaiety ; far from it. He was playful ; he delighted in 
 domestic fun, and dearly loved a bit of humour. He 
 was quick, frank, elastic. But there was at the base 
 of his character a strain of austerity. You felt it in 
 the innermost fibres of his being. There was the old 
 Tractarian instinct of self -repression ; there was its 
 hatred of all that bordered on display, its aloofness 
 from all that tended towards popularity or worldly 
 success. There was the deep undertone of one who 
 had passed through the fire, who had survived the 
 tremendous hour. The strain of the great convulsion 
 of 1845 which 'strewed wrecks on every coast' had 
 told on none more than on him. And its stamp was 
 still upon him — the stamp of an austerity which over- 
 awed the men of a younger day, and made them seem 
 of a weaker build and blood. Perhaps, again, no one 
 
270 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 can steep his soul in the work of Dante, as he did, 
 without -winning from it some touch of severe unearth- 
 liness. Certainly he had the outlook of a warrior — not 
 as one who loved the temper of a fight, which indeed 
 he loathed, but as one who had been through it, and 
 had known the strain and weight of the foe, and was 
 aware of all that yet might be again. There was a 
 sense in him of one holding a fort against grim odds, 
 which survived out of the perilous days, and which 
 kept him on the watch lest the attack shoilld swing 
 back his way. This used to surprise our lighter-hearted 
 generation, who had grown up since the terror of the 
 storm. ' The old war-horse was out to-day,' I used to 
 say when the Dean had shaken his head with an 
 upward look of grave defiance, as at some threatening 
 onset that he foresaw bearing down. The war-horse ! 
 Yes ! That was again and again the picture that rose 
 in my mind as the slight figure drew itself together, 
 and the eyes flashed. There would be no flinching in 
 him when the trumpet began to blow ; that was clear, 
 as his mouth grew stern. After all, behind all the 
 smiling veils, this world (one felt) is an arena in which 
 the battle of the Lord goes forward. We shall not get 
 through without a tussle, a fierce bout. Evil is strong, 
 and may come in like a flood ; and in the great day 
 of Armageddon he at least would not be found unready 
 or unarmed. 
 
 " Thus he had won out of an older past, which was 
 to us as an heroic epic, the spirit of the Christian 
 soldier warring for the right. But, on the other hand. 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 271 
 
 of all that elder race, he was the one who most inti- 
 mately followed on with the new movements and the 
 fresh temper. He was absolutely in touch with the 
 younger men. No brick walls blocked them out, or 
 brought them into abrupt arrest. He did not encounter 
 them with a challenge of suspicion, or hold them ofif at 
 arm's length. He felt what was going forward; he 
 believed in its worth ; he took it seriously. Eight to 
 his very last years, he caught the spirit that was abroad, 
 and was sensitive to its necessary difierences from 
 earlier types. Thus the younger men could come to 
 him with their vague and crude aspirations, unafraid 
 and unchilled. They were sure of sympathetic con- 
 sideration — of a judgment that viewed their case from 
 inside. They felt that he saw with their eyes ; and, 
 with that assurance, they could freely yield to his 
 authority, which it was a delight to recognise. There 
 was no one at all of the great heroes of the older 
 struggles who came so cl6se to them ; and this was of 
 vital significance during the crucial years, when the 
 currents set moving by the Tractarian impulse were 
 beginning to work out new grooves and receive fresh 
 tributaries. Such changes must happen ; and they are 
 hardest to efiect or to tolerate where the original effort 
 has been most heroic. And the Tractarian struggle had 
 been strangely heroic. It had been played by great 
 men, at a great crisis, on a great stage. It had fascinat- 
 ing personalities and dramatic movements, and undying 
 memories. And the Dean had been in the very heart 
 of all that was most touching and most famous. Yet 
 
272 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS past 
 
 lie was never imprisoned within the tragic attraction of 
 that epoch in which he had played so high a part. So 
 it was that, little as he himself would find it to his 
 taste to enter into the battle over nibrics and cere- 
 monies, he recognised the necessity that threw the stress 
 of the fight upon those points, when once the theological 
 movement had passed out of the Oxford quadrangles to 
 the streets of crowded cities. His name, as much as 
 any, forced those in authority to recognise that it was 
 no alfair of millinery or external ritual which they were 
 labouring to repress. He was found, at each crisis, 
 ready to verify the connection between the struggle for 
 a larger doctrine and the struggle for a richer ritual. 
 Nor only that ; but when this stage of the conflict too 
 was passing, and the position had been secured, and 
 lawful liberty was greater, and, in consequence, the 
 older movement was turned to other tasks, and took 
 fresh interests, and began to be busy with the problems 
 of contemporary thought, and with the new anxieties of 
 Biblical criticism, he still would not hold himself back 
 from those who had moved on to the new ground ; but 
 justified the necessity for the advance, perilous though 
 it seemed to him ; and not only corrected and guarded, 
 but also appreciated and encouraged the efifort that was 
 being inade to assimilate the fresh material of know- 
 ledge. It is difficult to exaggerate his influence in re- 
 conciliation and in control at a juncture when old bonds 
 were stretched near to breaking. He stood between the 
 old and the young, procuring the entire confidence of 
 each, with an authority over both that was unique. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 273 
 
 " Austerity and sympathy ! These, fused into one, 
 constituted him the type of moral judgment. By these 
 he took his noticeable place as a standard conscience by 
 which men tested their motives and their aims. That 
 was his work in his study at St. Paul's. That was what 
 made him the counsellor in all emergencies, public or 
 private. ' What does the Dean say 1 ' That was one of 
 the necessary questions at each crisis. So it was that 
 Mr. Gladstone turned to him as to no one else for advice 
 on Church affairs, for a verdict on men and books. So 
 it was that he could be anxious to see him placed in the 
 highest seat of authoritative government in the Church 
 of England. That desire was not merely a tribute to a 
 refined scholar; it was the recognition of a force of 
 moral judgment which had in it the authority essential 
 for rule and leadership. Such was the Dean, and as 
 such there was quite a peculiar felicity in his being 
 planted for nineteen years at St. Paul's, just where all 
 who needed could find him ; just where he could lay his 
 finger, with apt readiness, on the right or the wrong; 
 just where he could be outside the actual hubbub, yet 
 close at hand to those engaged in the thick of it. And 
 it was an especial joy during his closing years, when 
 bodily infirmities withdrew him, of sad necessity, from 
 most of the administration business, and when his acute 
 conscience was driving him, with an almost morbid 
 anxiety, to mutter continually ' resignation,' to recognise 
 that there, in his study, enclosed though he might be, 
 he was still playing the part which it was his peculiar 
 prerogative to filL He was still actively justifying his 
 
 T 
 
274 DEAN CHUKCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 office ; for still men sought in him the judgment, the 
 conscience, which they found nowhere else in so 
 authoritative or pure a form. 
 
 " I have ventured to labour this point, for, alas ! this 
 eminent characteristic of the Dean is one that disappears 
 wholly at his withdrawal by death. The books which 
 he wrote can still bear witness to his intellectual refine- 
 ment and his scholarly insight. Every one can turn to 
 them and feel the influence of their delicate style. His 
 letters will reveal something of his personal charm, 
 which brought him throughout his whole career such 
 singular devotion from all who knew him. But there is 
 nothing to tell of what he was as a living voice of moral 
 authority, as a presence that put men and things to 
 spiritual proof. Yet this is exactly what made his 
 position at St. Paul's so noticeable. And it is only by 
 keeping this clearly in view that the reading of the 
 letters will give any measure of his personal significance. 
 
 " ' There was such moral beauty about Church that 
 they could not help taking him.' So Mark Pattison 
 records, when speaking of the Oriel Fellowship which 
 he himself failed to get, in that strange autobiographical 
 fragment, in which he seems to have set himself to 
 record the worst both of himself and of every one else. 
 Amid all its sour pages, in which each high reputation 
 appears distorted and discoloured, it is striking how 
 at this one name, Eichard Church of Oriel, the book, 
 suddenly and always softens into tenderness. 'Moral 
 beauty ! ' That is the note struck by the Dean's life. 
 And its effect was irresistible. As in Pattison's Memoir, 
 
HI ST. PAUL'S 275 
 
 so through all the storm and stress of fifty years, in 
 which passions ran high and conflicts were hot and 
 blind, and slander and malice and uncharitableness pKed 
 their evil trade round each prominent chief, there was 
 one name, and one name only, that never moved wicked 
 tongues or Idndled anger; one name that always, and 
 from all, won unquestioned honour, and was beyond 
 dispute or challenge, beyond spite and hatred; one 
 name against which lay no suspicion, and which held by 
 an unbroken spell the favourable and afiectionate atten- 
 tion of the rival controversialists. It was that of 
 Eichard WiUiam Church. Yet he took a very strong 
 side. He spoke very strong words. He took an active 
 part in the very hottest part of the battlefield. StiU, 
 the note of honour and of peace prevailed wherever he 
 was; and it did so, surely, through the power of this 
 'moral beauty' which won from Mark Pattison his 
 solitary touch of unqualified admiration. His career is 
 a proof that there can be an unworldUness, a spiritual 
 temper, so true and so untainted, that it need not be 
 afraid though all men speak well of it. All men spoke 
 well of Church. And he could afford it. That is 
 the highest moral praise that can be given a man. And 
 that it should have been so does honour to the world 
 that gave him honour. We are always engaged in 
 abusing the world for its admiration of glittering and 
 superficial brilliancies, or of strength that is unscrupulous 
 in its audacity ; while it ignores the deeper powers that 
 hide themselves in modesty and quietness. No doubt, 
 the world too often justifies our abuse ; but, at least, let 
 
276 DEAN OHUECH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet' 
 
 us recall that it gave itself the lie in its treatment of 
 Richard Church. Never did any one more resolutely, 
 and almost morbidly, resist anything that could bring 
 him into notice or win popularity. Never was any one 
 more determinedly bent on holding himself withdrawn, 
 in hidden shadows, reserved and alone. Never was 
 there any one to whom it was more hateful, or more 
 impossible, to do anything for effect. And the gifts, 
 moreover, which this self-repression held withdrawn 
 were of a type that could make their full appeal only to 
 the few — to those who would appreciate the flavour of 
 fine and fastidious excellence. They were just of the 
 order which one would well exjJect to escape the judg- 
 ment of the ' world's coarse thumb and finger.' Even 
 his sermons, into which he was careful to put his best 
 work, and which possessed for those who had ears to 
 hear such incomparable charm, were not calculated to 
 reach the multitude. There were no physical effects to 
 aid the impression. The voice, though pure-toned, was 
 far from strong; and in delivery he held fast to the 
 earlier traditions so characteristic of Newman and the 
 Tractarian chiefs. Gesture, action, were all rigidly 
 discarded; and the voice retained its even measured 
 monotone throughout. Again, he hardly ever preached 
 on public occasions except where his duties compelled 
 him ; and this meant, in general, his rare sermons as 
 Dean, and stiU rarer, as University preacher. He never 
 would let himself go out to meet the general attention. 
 " Thus both his gifts and he himself fought against 
 public recognition. And it might well have seemed 
 
ni ST. PAUL'S 277 
 
 that he would have succeeded in retaining the seclusion 
 that he desired. Yet the special significance of his life 
 is that he totally failed in this. To very few men in 
 his generation was it given to win such wide and un- 
 stinted recognition. Dragged out of his hidden rectory 
 to the Deanery of St. Paul's, and planted down in 
 London's central roar, he was accepted by one and all 
 with an unquestioned and unqualified completeness, as 
 bringing honour and weight to the post which he held. 
 We, at the cathedral, went about our work with the 
 consciousness that the dignity of a great name was 
 behind us — a name which did not merely win the ad- 
 miration and love of those who knew him, but which 
 had a hold upon the imagination of the large world out- 
 side. This man, upon whom the world had no power, 
 told upon the world from which he abstained. Devoid 
 of the very taint of ambition, he obtained a singular 
 authority which was accepted without cavil or debate. 
 Such an authority was a witness to the force and beauty 
 of high moral character. It testified to the supremacy 
 which belongs, of right and of necessity, to conscience. 
 His special gifts would, under all conditions, have played 
 a marked part; but they do not account for the im- 
 pressive sway exercised over such multitudes by his 
 personality. This it was which was so unexpected; 
 this it was which it was given him to wield, in spite of 
 himself. To have reached that position without ever 
 having made an enemy, without a quarrel, without a 
 mistake, without a doubt, is a tribute not only to the 
 character of him who so achieved, but also to the latent 
 
.278 DEAN CHUEGH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 goodness of a world which had the eye to recognise what 
 it possessed. Amid all the miseries of misunderstanding 
 and entanglements which beset great reputations, it en- 
 heartens us all to be made to acknowledge that men, 
 after all, can welcome with frank and generous freedom 
 the power of high rectitude and the beauty of goodness. 
 No concessions need be made to the exigencies of practical 
 life. No slanders or suspicions need, of necessity, en- 
 compass the path of those who would hold themselves 
 pure. It is possible for a man to pass through the 
 world, upholding a severe standard which warns and 
 checks and menaces, and yet so to do this as to touch 
 and draw out the best that there is in each, and to win 
 every one's goodwill. It is possible for a man to keep 
 clear of all animosities and bitterness, and to be in favour 
 with all men, and yet never to swerve from the line of 
 duty or to submit to the taint of a compromise. It is 
 possible, for it was done by Eichard WiUiam Church. 
 Therefore it is that his memory is so fragrant and his. 
 name so full of good cheer. This earth is proved by him to 
 be a better place than we ourselves had thought it. We 
 look out at it with kinder eyes. "We have a larger trust in 
 the power of righteousness, not only to endure, but to con- 
 quer and to charm. We can tread our path with a better 
 heart now that we see that even here, amid the tangle and 
 the tumult, ' the path of the just is as a shining light.' " 
 
 The letters of the first year at St. Paul's give little 
 beyond a hurried outline of the life to which the Dean 
 had to accustom himselfi " We have got into our new 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 279 
 
 house somehow," he writes in the beginning of December 
 1871 to his brother : — 
 
 I had my first celebration in St. Paul's this morning ; the 
 first time in the North Chapel at 8 a.m. ; and my first 
 sermon at the 10.30 service. I found that I could be 
 partially at least heard. At any rate I shall not feel afraid 
 of the Dome when I am in ordinary strength. In the after- 
 noon Liddon preached, the first time I ever heard him. He 
 is very wonderful both in voice and words. . . . Lots of work 
 cut out for me of all kinds. Gregory is of cast iron. 
 
 And a week later : — 
 
 I have lots to tell, but not much time for telling. 
 Liddon' s "Conference" on Tuesday was a remarkable occa- 
 sion. He spoke for an hour to some seventeen hundred 
 young clerks and shopmen. In the evening we met a party 
 of swells at Stanley's — Due de Broglie, Lord Lyttleton, 
 Boundell Palmer, Capes and others ; and yesterday I had 
 my first city dinner with the Worshipful Company of Cloth- 
 workers, ate my first turtle, and made my first speech. It is 
 an odd mixture of intense bore and flashes of amusement. 
 ... I have no time, no thoughts, and I have not opened a 
 
 hook for a fortnight except in church. 
 
 9th December 1871. 
 
 Only a line to say that we are alive in spite of cold 
 and fog, and whirl of all sorts. We are waiting anxiously 
 for bulletins which come in continually from Sandringham.^ 
 Up to noon to-day there was slight improvement. But we 
 were watching all night last night, waiting for the announce- 
 ment which is sent from the Mansion-house to the Dean, on 
 which the great bell begins to toU. 
 
 ^ During the illness of the Prince of Wales. 
 
280 DEAN CHUEOH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 The Thanksgiving service for the recovery of the 
 Prince of Wales was held in St. Paul's on the 27th of 
 February of the following year, and was the Dean's first 
 official experience of a great public ceremony. 
 
 To THE Eev. C. M. Chdech. 
 
 Deanbbt, St. Pattl's, 1th March 1872. 
 
 Deab Ohaeles — I am alive, which is the most in- 
 teresting fact I have to commTinicate at present. I don't 
 think I ever was so tired in all my life as last Sunday 
 evening. However, all went well, in spite of various 
 anxieties on the part of the police authorities, which did not 
 make one's task lighter ; and now all I have to endure is 
 the grumbles of people who did not get tickets, and who 
 tliink that it was my business to prevent them getting 
 squeezed when they found themselves in a crowd. This is 
 the first letter that I have written during the last three 
 weeks, which has not been more or less on business. I 
 assure yon I have been corresponding with very great per- 
 sons, — Archbishops, Prime Ministers, Home Secretaries, and 
 Lord Chamberlains — all, I was amused to find, just as if 
 they were my oldest acquaintances. It is odd how soon one 
 gets into the official trick, and writes without being afraid 
 of their grandeur. 
 
 I must send this oflf. Good-bye. I hope you are all 
 well. — Ever yours aflfeotionately, B. W. C. 
 
 To THE Bev. C.' M. Church. 
 
 Windsor Castle, \Wi April 1872. 
 My dear Charles — I have had to come here to preach, 
 and this time an additional bit of experience has come on 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 281 
 
 me, as I was summoned to stay at the big place instead of 
 the Deanery. There was an amusing degree of uncertainty 
 about the whole thing ; first, whether I was to go to the 
 Castle ; then, if being there, I was to dine with the House- 
 hold or in the highest room : the questions were finally 
 settled so as to enlarge my ideas to the fuU extent Glad- 
 stone is here, so that there was a bit of historical interest 
 in being at a dinner with H.M. and her Minister. It was 
 very solemn, but not solemn as I expected : people talked 
 and even laughed, but not loud. After dinner there was a 
 circle made round the room, and the Queen went round and 
 talked a little with each set. 
 
 . , . Gladstone has migrated to the Deanery, and I am 
 going to meet him there at dinner. It has been a beautiful 
 day, and we have been strolling through the park, which is 
 almost in its perfect charm ; a want of fulness of leaf, but, 
 on the other hand, the most exquisite first green. — Ever 
 yours affectionately, R. W. Ohukch. 
 
 To Dr. Asa Gray. 
 
 London, Ifh November 1872. 
 My dear Friend — ^Your letter gave me a qualm of 
 conscience. When did I write to you last ? I am sure I 
 cannot tell, but I am afraid a long time ago. But I won't 
 waste time in apologies. For once in my life I find in 
 reality what it is to be not master of one's time. Thank 
 you very much for the account of your trans-continental 
 expedition. It must indeed have been an experience for 
 which not even Egypt could have given you points of com- 
 parison. The pleasure of recognising alwe, plants of which 
 you had been telling the history, and ruling the classifica- 
 tions, though only through their dead specimens, m\ist have 
 
282 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 been one wliicli not many people could share with you, and 
 is one which I almost envy most among the pleasures of your 
 tour. It must have been like finding friends in a strange 
 land, and something more. 
 
 We have not much of a story to tell. Last July we 
 escaped from one of the hottest and most thundery summers 
 remembered in London to the snows. We took our eldest 
 girl with us, and she proved a capital walker and good 
 companion, and later my boy joined us. 
 
 We went first to the Oberland — Lauterbrunnen, Miirren, 
 Grindelwald, Rosenlaui — where we had some fine weather, 
 and pleasant walks, with moderate climbing. Miirren is 
 charming ; it is perched up high, with a magnificent per- 
 spective view of the Jungfrau group, and an awful-looking 
 depth of valley between it and the great mountains. Then 
 we crossed the Gemmi, and got to the southern valleys run- 
 ning from the Rhone up to the great mountains dividing 
 Switzerland and Italy ; the valleys parallel ^th the Zermatt 
 valley, Evolena and Zinal, places which brought you back 
 to our remembrance, for it was from thence that we came 
 when we met you at the Eiffel and Zermatt. They are 
 charming places in fine weather, and we had some beautiful 
 days with some very bad ones. StUl it was holiday, and we 
 were well, and Mrs. Church walked bravely, and the children 
 scrambled up and found abundant edelweiss, and we were 
 altogether happy. But holidays come to an end, and we 
 came back without misfortune. And now London work has 
 fairly begun. 
 
 I am afraid we neither of us like this life better than we 
 did. There is much going on which is interesting, and one 
 is thrown across people whom one is glad to know. But 
 the worst is that there is neither time nor chances to know 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 283 
 
 them to much purpose. Among all the changes of my life 
 the one which comes home to me as most of a change is, 
 that having been used all my life to have one friend at 
 least, to whom I could go and talk over any matter that 
 turned up, now, in, all London I have not one. Numbers 
 of friends with whom I am intimate and confidential on 
 this or that pviUc matter ; but literally not one to whom I 
 could go and talk about things in general, or what specially 
 interested myself. Of course it is the fate of a new-comer, 
 beginning London life late, and I am not complaining, only 
 it is so odd and strange in feeling. On the other hand, I 
 meet endless people whom it is only possible to meet in 
 London — only it is tantalising to see so little of them. 
 
 St. Paul's is a big ship to command. I hope things are 
 mending a little in it, but there is much to be done, and 
 much to fight about, which is not much in my line. But I 
 must be satisfied if I leave it a little, only, better than I 
 found it. I hope I may do that. 
 
 . . . Our best love to Mrs. Gray. My boy is just gone 
 to Oxford, to New College, and will, I hope, do well — Ever 
 yours aflfectionately, B. W. Church. 
 
 To Dr. Asa Gray. 
 
 Dbanekt, St. Paul's, 22nd November 1872. 
 My dear Friend — . . . We are just in our gloomiest 
 part of the London year ; a portion which the great city 
 companies of London try to enliven with marvellous banquets 
 in their various haUs. I was at one last night. They are 
 sights to see, for the haUs, and plate, and dinner, and crowds 
 of diners, and all the odd customs which are kept up in 
 them. These companies are the lineal heirs of the old trade 
 
284 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 guilds of London ; there are some sixty or seventy of them, 
 great and small, but tlie small ones are not much, heard of 
 The great ones — ^Fishmongers, Grocers, Mercers, Merchant- 
 Taylors, Salters, etc. — are political powers, and possess huge 
 revenues. Well, I hope that you will come over soon, that 
 you may see us in our present odd manner of life. But I 
 won't promise, if you delay long, that you will find us here. 
 - — Yours ever affectionately, E. W. Church. 
 
 To Dr. Asa Gray. 
 
 Dbanbrt, St. Pattl's, 25th July 1873. 
 My dear Friend — . . . We are just now under the 
 iniluence of a great shock, which was felt through the country 
 last Monday at the news of Bishop Wilberforce's death.^ 
 He was a man of great mark, and now that he is gone, 
 people admit this more freely than they did. He took such 
 a leading part, that of course he came into violent collision 
 with great numbers ; and he was so abounding iu resources 
 of all kinds, that it was easy to say that he was too clever 
 in all. ways. But the truth is that he was a statesman, and 
 a statesinan's ways in great religious divisions are liable to 
 offend people of strong, simple, perhaps one-sided, religious 
 ideas. He was, I believe, a thoroughly sincere man, with a very 
 lofty and large idea of the religious aims to which he devoted 
 his life. He was a man of very large sympathies, of untiring 
 interest in all that interested mankind — too extensive, per- 
 haps, in his interests for any deep and accurate knowledge — a 
 very strong, bold, and earnest man. Of all men of his time he 
 comes next to Gladstone as a man of inexhaustible powers of 
 
 ^ The death of Bishop WUberforce had taken place by a fall from 
 hi3 horse. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 285 
 
 work. Gladstone was much attached to him, and feels his 
 loss greatly. There was a great nobility of nature about 
 him. He was a man for the poorest and least educated 
 rustics, just as much as for London churches and London 
 drawing-rooms, and was as genuine in his intercourse with 
 the humble and poor as with those who responded to his own 
 brilliant cleverness. He is buried to-day in a little country 
 churchyard in Sussex, where he wished to lie, as his wife's 
 grave is there. It was wished to bury him at Westminster, 
 but his own desire was respected. . . . — ^Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 The two following letters contain the expression of 
 the Dean's personal feeling towards two of the subjects 
 of the day, which were being fiercely debated in Con- 
 vocation as well as in public meetings in difierent parts 
 of the country during 1873. The debates on Confession 
 in Convocation led at length to a Declaration on Con- 
 fession,-' drawn up and signed by Dr. Pusey and some 
 thirty members of the High Church party. To this 
 Declaration the following letter from the Dean to Dr. 
 Pusey refers : — 
 
 To Dr. Pusey. 
 
 Deaueet, St. Paul's, 11th November 1873. 
 
 My dear Db. Pusey — I have to thank you most sincerely 
 for having been so kind as, in the midst of all that you have 
 to do, to write to me yourself. 
 
 . . . The Declaration sets forth nothing but what I hold 
 
 ' A Declaration on Confession and Absolution, as set forth by the 
 Church of England. See ChmriAam,, 10th December 1873, p. 1589. 
 
286 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 to be true. But for myself, I have a strong objection to 
 collective Declarations of this kind, except in cases of the last 
 extremity. I regret and dislike most deeply such utterances 
 as those of the Bishop of Gloucester. But I cannot help 
 thinking that they have been provoked, though not justified, 
 by extreme statements on the other side — statements which, 
 if tenable, are fatal to the position of the Church of England. 
 In a Declaration like this, people do not read or weigh the 
 expressions, but only the heading and the names. And they 
 form false conclusions from both. And there is the risk, 
 which we saw verified in the case of the 483, of men, after 
 signing, backing out on alleged misunderstandings. I cannot 
 help thinking that a calm and grave statement from yourself 
 of what is contained in the Declaration, full as it would be 
 of the cautious and considerate spirit necessary in dealing 
 with such a difficult subject as confession, would weigh 
 much more with English people than a Declaration however 
 signed. 
 
 For myself, I should always be ready to maintain the 
 liberty which, it seems to me, the English Church gives on 
 both sides. I am most thankful to those who, like yourself, 
 have turned our attention to this great and once neglected 
 remedy and medicine for many sinful souls. But, however 
 inconsistent I may be called, I cannot go beyond liberty. I 
 cannot seem to be on the side of those who, if not in formal 
 statement, yet practically, press for more. 
 
 I hope that you will forgive me if I have written too 
 freely. — With great respect and gratitude, yours ever, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 Another Declaration^ to which the Dean's name is 
 
 1 See Guardian, 20tli May 1874, p. 626. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 287 
 
 attached appeared in May of the next year, after the 
 introduction of the Public Worship measure, and urged 
 the danger of enforcing a rigid uniformity in the con- 
 duct of Divine worship, especially in the matter of the 
 Eastward position, and the wearing at iitting times of a 
 " distinctive Eucharistic dress." 
 
 To Prbobntok Vbnables. 
 
 Dbanbrt, St. Paul's, 26th May 1874. 
 
 Mt dear Sir — The Declaration was in the first instance 
 intended for a limited numher- of clergy, whose naines, it was 
 supposed, would carry some weight. But there has been 
 such a strong wish to sign it expressed by many others, that 
 a notice wiU be given in the papers this week, saying where 
 names may be sent to in order to be appended to the 
 Declaration. Any names sent to me shall be added to it. 
 
 I cannot be surprised at the opposite criticisms on the 
 Declaration. Doubtless they are just, from each person's 
 point of view ; but the fault is in the odd and anomalous 
 state in which the whole matter to which it relates is found 
 to be. 
 
 My own feeling is much like yours about such things as 
 vestments. I understand the frame of mind which, partly 
 out of special reverence for our highest service, partly out of 
 regard to what I suppose was early, if not the earliest usage, 
 makes men wish for them. But for myself, I should feel 
 very uncomfortable if I had to wear them ; and, indeed, I 
 have never seen a specimen except the cope which our 
 Bishop wears once a year at the ordination on Trinity 
 Sunday, il wish the congregation could have some con- 
 stitutional voice in the matter. The difficulty is- how to 
 
288 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 give it them. No doubt there is clerical despotism ; but, I 
 am assured, it is an evU not confined to Eitualists. It 
 would be a curious study to investigate the various forms of 
 despotism under which, especially, country parishes groan. 
 A large place must be kept for female despotism. — ^Yours 
 very faithfully, E. W. Chubch. 
 
 These letters mark the new responsibihties which 
 the Dean's position at St. Paul's now brought upon 
 him. They serve also to lead up to the critical period 
 in ecclesiastical affairs which was brought about by 
 the passing of the Public Worship Regulation Act in the 
 summer of 1874, — an Act passed "at the dictates," 
 to use Dr. Liddon's words, "of an unreasoning panic, 
 and with much apparent disregard of the historical 
 structure and spiritual independence of the Church of 
 England." 1 
 
 Hitherto, at any rate since the changes of 1845, the 
 Dean had been, to use his own words, little more than 
 an "outsider" to the main current of vigorous and 
 practical Church life which had received and carried on 
 the inspiration and principles of the Tractarian Move- 
 ment. At Whatley, although always an attentive 
 observer of its fortunes, his life, with its parochial duties 
 and constant literary occupation, had afforded few oppor- 
 tunities for any regular intercourse with the leaders of 
 the High Church party ; and of the younger men into 
 whose hands the later development of the Movement 
 had fallen he knew but little, as was shown in the letter 
 of the 7th April 1866, which describes the meeting of 
 
 ' See preface to Thoughts on Present Chv/rch Troubles, p. viii. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 289 
 
 old currents and new at Mr. Keble's funeral. It was 
 not until he came to St. Paul's that he was in any way 
 brought into personal relationship with the ritualist 
 party, and then his appreciation of their work could 
 not hinder a sense of much that was provoking and 
 extravagant in their teaching. "I feel," he wrote to 
 Dr. Pusey in 1873, "that some of these younger men, 
 whom I cannot go along with, are so very much my 
 superiors, and beyond my criticism, in their devotion 
 and earnestness. But I dread to think what the end 
 may be from self-will and v^pa, where otherwise, in 
 spite of everything, there seems more hope than I can 
 see anywhere else." 
 
 But notwithstanding the feeling expressed by these 
 words, the aim of the Public Worship Act, of " putting 
 down ritualism " by means of prosecutions and imprison- 
 ments, offended at once his historic instinct and his 
 sense of justice, and his letters show that his opposition 
 to such a policy was resolute and uncompromising. "The 
 truth is, in a battle you must fight," were words of his, 
 and they give the clue to the position he now took up. 
 With all his hatred of controversy, and the fierce temper 
 and rough methods of controversy, he did not hesitate, 
 in the long conflict which ensued, to take his place on 
 the side of those who urged patience and toleration and 
 measures of impartial treatment towards the members 
 of an unpopular and suspected party. 
 
 In April 1874, the Public Worship Eegulation Act 
 was introduced into the House of Lords by the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, and in August it passed in the 
 
 u 
 
290 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pam 
 
 House of Commons. How critical the occasion had 
 
 become, and how serious was the strain during the 
 
 passage of the bill, may be gathered from some outspoken 
 
 words of the Dean's, written in the freedom of a private 
 
 letter to his brother : — 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, July 1874. 
 
 You have cliosen wisely. You would only have found 
 here oppressive heat, and people out of temper, and the 
 beginnings of a Chnrch breaking up from the impatience and 
 folly of governors and governed. The Church of England, 
 at the beginning of the year, stood for the strongest and most 
 hopeful Church in Christendom, with much excess and foUy 
 in it, as in all human things that have life, but growing into 
 the only work for which a Church ought to live, — ^reclaiming, 
 consoling, binding up, teaching men to worship and rejoice in 
 the unseen Goodness and Glory. The ignorance of some, the 
 pride of others, the suspicious injustice of even wise and 
 good men, have brought things to a pass, when those who for 
 fifty years have -been steadily disbelieving in a break-up, 
 have come to look at it face to face. 
 
 Writing on the 30th of July to Sir Frederic Rogers — 
 or as he had now become, Lord Blachford — he adds : — 
 
 The bill you see is through. Blakesley told me that the 
 House was " frenzied," aiid that if it had been proposed to 
 cut off the hands of all offending clergymen, they would have 
 carried it. It is too early really to decide on the practical 
 meaning of all this. We shall see in the course of the autumn. 
 But every one must feel it to be very grave. 
 
 A year had yet to elapse before the practical working 
 of the measure could be tested. But when once it had 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 291 
 
 passed into law ttere were many among moderate High 
 Churchmen, to whom the growth of ritualism had been 
 always distasteful, who urged acquiescence in its enforce- 
 ment. Such was the view taken by Lord Blachford, to 
 whom many of the letters which follow on Church 
 matters are addressed. Some words in a letter from 
 the Dean, written immediately after the passing of the 
 bill, reveal the difference which was already beginning 
 to arise in their judgment. "I quite enter into your 
 point of view," the Dean writes, " though it is not quite 
 my own. If it were a mere question of keeping order 
 and restraining absurdity, I should go along with you 
 quite. But unfortunately there are strong and irrecon- 
 cilable parties, and there is a Church Association, rich 
 and organised, and a strong popular current of feeling, 
 partly reasonable, partly ignorant, but anyhow formidable 
 and not very discriminating. It may cool down, but I 
 shall be surprised if it is allowed to do so." 
 
 Other letters follow, which illustrate this difference 
 of opinion even more distinctly. 
 
 To Lord Blachford. 
 
 Dbaneky, St. Paul's, Ith December 1874. 
 My dear Blachford — I have looked over your review.^ 
 In all that you say I think I quite agree, notably in the warn- 
 ing against effeminacy and excess. But I think that I should 
 have given Hope more credit for sharing in this feeling, and 
 wishing to check it. It seems to me that this is a time when 
 
 ' A review of Warship in the Ghurch of£ngland, by A. J. Beresford 
 Hope. — Ouardian, 9th December 1874. 
 
292 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS past 
 
 ritual is taking a sliape wHch. may be permanent, and that 
 there is a chance, which never was before, of settling the 
 outline and principle of an intelligent, appropriate, expressive, 
 outward form or shape of worship, within the Unes of the 
 Prayer-Boot, fairly interpreted. Of course I mean according 
 to the ideas of worship which belong to the movement. And 
 it is from this belief that Hope writes, without imposii^ what 
 he accounts fit and proportionate ritual on those whose 
 divergences from his idea of doctrine are, in fact, sanctioned 
 and allowed in the Church. I don't think he wants an 
 excessive and ornate, much less a fiddling and fussy ritual ; 
 but, as there is no escaping the subject, whether you care for 
 it or no, he wants it careful, appropriate, and, where the 
 place calls for it, grand, — as good and suitable as it can be. 
 In fact, he writes as much against the Ritualists as against 
 the Puritans. — Ever yours affectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, 11th January 1875. 
 
 Mt deae Blachfobd — The Chiistmas Pantomime in 
 Spain is a more promising one than usuaL I suppose this 
 is what they have been driving at there for some time, and 
 probably they have got what they wanted, after their sicken- 
 ing with the Intransigentes. I suppose it will make Spain 
 a piece on the chessboard once more, and on the anti-Bismarck 
 sida 
 
 Gladstone was here yesterday, lunching with us. He is 
 stUl boUing with anti- Vatican wrath. ... He corresponds 
 with DoUinger, and is getting very much interested in the 
 religious (and, I suppose, also the political) prospects of his 
 party ; and he wants the Ghiardian to have a special place 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 293 
 
 for German ecclesiastical affairs. Certainly Stephen's augury 
 about Gladstone, ttat he was deficient in combativeness, is 
 one of the most whimsical bad shots that I know. 
 
 I had a curious interview with another great man the 
 other day. The Archbishop asked Ldddon and me to come 
 over to Addington and have a " free talk " with him about 
 Church matters. The invitation arose out of a talk with 
 Lake, who reported its substance to the Archbishop. We 
 went, and found him very civil and courteous, and though 
 he talked the most, he let us have our say. Nothing much 
 came of it ; but it was a good thing to have seen one 
 another, and talked quietly by the fire in his study. His 
 point was — no legislation : nothing to bring things before 
 Parliament, which does not want to meddle ; but trust the 
 new court, and make it as good a court as you can. He 
 disclaimed aU designs against the "great historical High 
 Church party, as represented by Bishop Andrewes," and 
 went as near as he properly could to a sort of apology for 
 the strength of his language in his speeches last session. I 
 could not help wishing that he had had the talk last year. 
 He had also seen the week before a number (some twelve) of 
 High Church clergy to whom he had talked in the same line 
 — conciliatory — and allowing them to state their points, and 
 wishing to meet them. But as to what is to be done, it is 
 not so easy to see j and except his own disposition for peace, 
 there was not much to be gathered from what he said. — 
 Ever yours affectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 The following letters are examples of a kind of corre- 
 spondence in which, as his influence made itself more 
 widely felt, the Dean became more and more frequently- 
 engaged. The letters themselves will be found to indi- 
 
294 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 cate the nature of the questions to which they are a 
 reply :— 
 
 FJIq * * * * 
 
 Dbaubet, St. Pattl's, Srd March 1875. 
 Mt deab Mb. * * * — You are right in suggesting 
 that I have not much time for answering, as they ought to 
 be answered, such haid questions as yours. I wish I had, 
 for they are very interesting ones. I can only write first 
 thoughts, which you must take for what they are worth. 
 
 The fact of what is meant by original sin is as mysterious 
 and inexplicable as the origin of evil, but it is obviously as 
 much a fact. There is a fault and vice in the race, which, 
 given time, as surely develops into actual sin, as our physical 
 constitution, given at birth, does into sickness and physical 
 death. It is of this inherited tendency to sin in our nature, 
 ' looked upon in the abstract and without reference to con- 
 crete cases, that I suppose the Article ^ speaks. How can we 
 suppose that such a nature looks in God's eyes, according to 
 the standard of perfect righteousness which we also suppose 
 to be God's standard and law. Does it satisfy that standard ? 
 Can He look with neutrality on its divergence from His 
 perfect standard ? What is His moral judgment of it as 
 a subject for moral judgment ! 
 
 What He may do to cure it, to pardon it, to make allow- 
 ances for it, in known or unknown ways, is another matter, 
 about which His known attributes of mercy alone may 
 reassure ub, but the question is — How does He look upon 
 this fact of our nature m itself, that without exception it has 
 this strong efficacious germ of evil within it, of which He 
 sees aU the possibilities and all the consequences ? Can He 
 
 ^ The ninth of the Thirty-nine Articles,. Of Original or Birth Sin. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 295 
 
 look on it, even in germ, with complacency or indifference 1 
 Must He not judge it and condemn it as in itself, because 
 evil, deserving condemnation 1 I cannot see what other 
 answer can be given but one, and this is what the Article 
 
 But all this settles nothing about the actual case of 
 unbaptized infants, any more than the general necessity 
 of believing the Gospel settles anything as to the actual 
 case of heathens who have never heard of the Gospel. 
 If, without fear, we leave them to the merciful dispen- 
 sations, unrevealed to us, of Him who is their Father, 
 though they do not know Him, much more may we leave 
 infants who have never exercised will or reason. But in 
 both cases we are obliged by facts and Scripture to acknow- 
 ledge sinfulness and sin. In Christians, and those who may 
 know of the Gospel, this is cured, relieved, taken away, by 
 known means which He has given us. In those who, by no 
 fault of their own, are out of His family and Church, we 
 cannot doubt, both from what we know of Him, and from 
 what He has told us, that He will provide what is necessary. 
 But still there is the sinfulness and the sin ; and as sin, q-ud 
 sin, we can only suppose that He looks on it with displeasure 
 and condemns it. 
 
 I don't see that the Article, which is only treating of sin 
 and sinfulness, and not of its remedy or God's love, does 
 more than express what must be God's judgment on all sin, 
 even in germ. How He deals with it is a separate matter. 
 
 I must leave this hurried scrawl to your kind considera- 
 tion. — Yours faithfully, R. "W. Church. 
 
296 DEAN CHURCH's LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Deaubbt, St. Paul's, 6fk March 1875. 
 
 Mt dear Mr. * * * — What I meant was, that owing 
 to the imperfection of our faculties of conception and expres- 
 sion, almost all abstract truths are only parts of the truth, and 
 rec[uire to he limited or supplemented by other unexpressed 
 assumptions and supposed truths, to be true in fact and 
 reality. You must allow for friction in practical mechanics; 
 and real points and lines have other qualities from geometrical 
 ones. Yet we lay down our mechanical laws and geometrical 
 propositions. 
 
 So I take it, in a quasi-scientific statement, like that of 
 the Article. It states an abstract truth which, to he made 
 really and fully true, has to be completed or limited by other 
 known and supposed truths. The Article considers — ^What 
 does human nature, as such, with its universal fatal taint, 
 and its tendency to evil, deserve of the perfect righteousness 
 of God ? Not what must A B, with all his circumstances 
 and personal qualities, etc., hole for in fact at God's hands. 
 The best man confesses himself, and truly, a miserable sinner ; 
 but it would be strange to apply the bare naked idea of a 
 miserable sinner to some good man whom we love and 
 reverence. 
 
 Geocentric and, heliocentric motions and aspects are dif- 
 ferent, yet are both portions of the same fact looked at from 
 different positions. 
 
 The statement in the Article seems to me parallel, in its 
 unqualified breadth, to our Lord's words, " Except a man be 
 born again he cannot see the kingdom of God." Why cannot 
 he, except there is in every man something which incurs 
 God's displeasure ? And must we not believe that that some- 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 297 
 
 thing is taken away by a new hvrth, in all who are saved, 
 either by the means of grace which we know, or by others 
 unknown to us. — Yours faithfully, E. W. Church. 
 
 A foreign holiday brought with it even more than 
 ordinary refreshment, after the fatigues and anxieties of 
 the previous year. For the first time for many years, 
 the Dean, as the following letter shows, had allowed 
 himself to be tempted beyond the range of his much- 
 loved Svriss valleys : — 
 
 To HIS Wife. 
 
 Lttgano, 25th July 1875. 
 Yes, really not gone after all — ^the cause why is remark- 
 able. We meant to start about eleven for Como, and to 
 have been there by this time. But we thought it our duty 
 first to see one of the lions of Lugano, a great fresco Cruci- 
 fixion by Luini. I happened to go first before breakfast, and 
 it struck me at once as a really wonderful picture. I went 
 home to breakfast, and after breakfast G. came with me to 
 examine it. I think his verdict agrees with mine. It is a 
 great wall picture on the east wall of the nave, as (I think) 
 at Varallo ; high up, with a front plane of some fifty life-size 
 figures. Behind were two other planes, the upper and most 
 distant containing the Agony and the Ascension ; the second 
 distance, just above the heads of the foreground persons, four 
 scenes — ^the Purple Robe, the Bearing the Cross, the Entomb- 
 ment, and the Risen Lord meeting St. Thomas. The two 
 sides answered to one another, as preparation and result of 
 the great foreground scene, which they did not the least dis- 
 turb, either in colour or grouping. Then came the fore- 
 
298 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 ground full of animation — suffering, quarrelling, perplexed 
 observation, satisfied hate, sympathy, indifference, curiosity, 
 passionate devotion, conviction forced in spite of all the 
 strangeness of the event. The haters were on the side of the 
 impenitent malefactor, the lovers and adorers and respecters 
 on the side of the penitent one. But though the symmetry 
 was evident when you studied it, there was nothing to strike 
 the eye till you looked and thought. Then out of and far 
 above this talking, watching, quarrelling, hating, sorrowing 
 crowd, rose high, much higher than in ordinary Crucifixions, 
 three tall crosses, with three corpses on them, just dead ; and 
 they rose far above all that is of the earth, its stragglings and 
 ignorance and passions, into the dark violet air, where all 
 was still, even the company of angels above, who were 
 watching and weeping in silence. The feature of the pic- 
 ture is these three very tall crosses, lifting their dead from 
 the earth to the invisible world, and ihe company of the 
 silent angels; and seeming, without saying so, to connect 
 what had happened in the sight and by the deed of men 
 with what happened in the presence of the angels. This 
 seems to me the idea of the picture ; but this is nothing. 
 As soon as we came to look at it through glasses (it was a 
 beautifully bright morning) every detail, every group, every 
 face, showed such unfailing feeling on the painter's part for 
 the whole, such exquisite ideas of beauty, such nobleness, 
 such intense and yet most guarded and moderated passion, 
 such power under control, such respect — if I may so say — 
 for the expression of the deepest and most awful feelings, 
 that I am sUly enough to say that I cannot recall a grander 
 picture of the kind, or many grander of any kind. Of course 
 the well-known Luini face came in often, but let it ; I never 
 knew what a beautiful face it was till 1 saw it in this church. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 299 
 
 Well, the long and short of the story is that I was fascinated, 
 and thought eleven a great deal too early to leave Lugano. 
 I had not seen for long a picture which so much interested 
 me. So I made interest with G. to stay and have my leisure 
 to look at it. — Ever yours affectionately, E. W. C. 
 
 To LoBD Blaohford. 
 
 Deaubet, St. Paul's, 6th May 1876. 
 My DEAR Blachford — . . . We have just been having 
 an interesting military fwnzione — receiving the old colours of 
 the 77 th Kegiment to be hung up in the cathedral. They 
 were {i.e. the colours) in the Crimea, where the 77th were 
 the first considerable body of English who came in contact 
 with the Russians on the morning of Inkermann, and knocked 
 back one of SimonofPs columns in a wonderful way, according 
 to Kinglake. They came some two hundred, laid their old 
 colours on the altar, and then took them to the place where 
 they are to be fixed ; and then all defiled before them, the 
 band playing " Auld lang syne," and the colonel giving a 
 parting kiss to the flags as he delivered them to me. 
 
 A few words written at the end of the year recall 
 the strength of feeling at the time of the Bulgarian 
 atrocities and before the Russo-Turkish war : — 
 
 12th December 1876. 
 Everybody is very savage with everybody about Turks 
 and Rxissians. I think I never remember such an awkward 
 time for meeting people (until you know you are on the 
 same side), except at the height of the Tractarian row. 
 
 Divergences of opinion on Church matters were 
 
300 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 scarcely likely to grow less marked as ritual prosecutions 
 contiQued. Lord Blachford, the Dean's most constant 
 and intimate correspondent, had written strongly in 
 condemnation of the ritualist position, and the following 
 letters express the Dean's sense of the divergence, and 
 his unchanged judgment on the course which was heing 
 taken : — 
 
 To Lord Blachfoed. 
 
 Dbaneet, St. Pattl's, Wh Jwmuxry 1877. 
 
 Mt dear Blachford — I have no difficulty in agreeing 
 with you about the indefensibleness of Mr. Tooth's position ; 
 not, though, on the point of the oath ; I having no liking 
 for violent measures — perhaps because I am disposed to be 
 cowardly. 
 
 Nor have I difficulty in agreeing about the fact of accept- 
 ance by the Church of State interference and control I 
 am ready to admit it from the very first. I am sufficiently 
 prone to scepticism to doubt all absolute theories as to right 
 on either side. It has always been a matter of arrangement 
 according to circumstances, and the force which each side 
 had. 
 
 But, as you know, I cannot understand how it can be 
 thought that this is really the whole of the question. Besides 
 the matter of obedience to courts as interpreters of law, comes 
 the question why the courts were created, how they have 
 interpreted the law, what is the policy which the governors 
 of the Church have thought it necessary to pursue in respect 
 to a party or a set of opinions in the Church, and which has 
 dictated recent legislation, of which the results are now 
 coming on. And here, I am afraid, we look at things from 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 301 
 
 different points of view. You are more litely to be right 
 than I am in all this tangle. But whether I can make good 
 my view or not — which is a question of mental force — I have 
 thought, and tried to think, a great deal about it. And I 
 can only see in the legal decisions, and in the measures which 
 have brought forth their results in the present crisis, a misuse 
 of law such as has before now been known in history, and a 
 policy of injustice towards an unpopular party, which has, I 
 think, as much to say for itself as any other in the Church, 
 which has done good service to the Church, and which, pro- 
 voking as it has often been, has had more than parties in 
 English controversy usually have to provoke them. I could 
 condemn Mr. Tooth as heartily as you do ; but then I must 
 have condemned even more strongly greater men than Mr. 
 Tooth. 
 
 I am afraid that we must be content in this matter to be 
 on opposite tacks. I know quite well what your object is, 
 to abate and rebuke extravagance, and to keep us together. 
 And I shall be very glad if what you say is effective for what 
 we both have at heart, the good of the English Church. But 
 as I said, I cannot quite see things as you do. And to say 
 the truth, I do not at present see the way out of the mistakes 
 that have been made on all sides. If it were not that the 
 English Church has survived as great diflculties before, I 
 shovild think that matters were very serious just now. 
 
 I have written this before I could look at your article 
 which came this morning. I have not read it, and I think 
 that on the whole 1 had better not. I do not belong to the 
 English Church Union, and have always been rather afraid 
 of it. But it must be remembered that such associations are 
 familiar to English parties, and exist on both sides ; and the 
 r6le of the E.C.U. has been, as far as I know, mainly a 
 
302 DEAN GHUECH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 defensive one. But if you can make them cautious and 
 reasonable it will be a great gain. I do not doubt they need 
 it. — Ever yours affectionately, E. W. 0. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 Deanery, St Pattl's, 12th January 1877. 
 
 Dear Blachpord — ^With the tone of your last article I 
 quite agree, and with the reminder in it of the gravity of the 
 question. But I think there is a further point — not only 
 how much the Church has accepted, but how much she is to 
 accept. 
 
 And further, supposing that there is great danger in 
 accepting, how she is to resist accepting or prevent it. And 
 this is to me a very difficult question. . . . It is idle in the 
 present state of opinion to think of changing laws without 
 mischief, for you cannot do it without breaking up the com- 
 promise under which the Church has gone on since the 
 Reformation. No one can doubt what a legislative settle- 
 ment of the dispute would be at present. It would be 
 Hanoverians legislating for Jacobites. 
 
 I am inclined to agree with you about the desirableness 
 of questioning all oaths. ^ Though I think that an oath ought 
 not to be pressed against men except on very clear ground. I 
 remember the way in which in the early days we were 
 twitted at Oxford with breaking our oaths, and how the 
 Provost once came down on me with the oath about obeying 
 the " consuetudines " of the college, when we were agitating 
 about a change in the way of giving college testimonials. — 
 Ever yours affectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 ' See Article in Guardian, 3rd January 1877, p. 9. 
 
I" ST. PAUL'S 303 
 
 Writing to his brother, who was now Canon of Wells, 
 and who had written regretting the loss of frequent 
 intercourse, which the distance now between them, and 
 the ties of work, entailed, he says : — 
 
 To Canon Chukch. 
 
 Deaneet, St. Patjl's, ISih February 1877. 
 
 Dear Ohaeles — Yes, it is a long time. One gets eaten 
 up with, cares, and talks, and committees, and sermons, and 
 finally does nothing of what one ought to do. I think the 
 only thing that has struck one is the quiet which pervades 
 ail things. The debate was dull. Midhat's head over heels 
 was like a sphinx's riddle, very odd and amusing no doubt, 
 but really too puzzling as to what it might lead to, to elicit 
 either jokes or prophecies. The Pall Mall does not know 
 what to make of things ; it suggests the thought of a serious 
 split in the Cabinet and of a Beaconsfield contra mundum. 
 But no one can tell. I am going to dine quietly with Glad- 
 stone to-morrow, and perhaps may gather something. But I 
 expect to come away aa wise as I shall go. I doubt if he 
 knows himself what he is going in for ; he is ignorant of two 
 main elements — what wUl Russia do, and what will the 
 English public do. I believe myself that Russia means war ; 
 but it is only a guess. 
 
 The Church world is as quiet as the political — with Tooth 
 still in prison, with Bodington coming on before Lord Pen- 
 zance on the 20th, and the judgment ^ not to come out till 
 after Easter, and everybody rather anxious as to what " other 
 people " will do, so anxious that nobody asks or talks, except 
 
 ' The Judgment of the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council on 
 the Folkestone Ritual case. 
 
304 DEAN CHURCH'S LIKE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 to sympatliisers, either for or against Mr. Tooth, who appears 
 behind his bars this week in Vanity Fair with a rather 
 friendly notice. 
 
 Wilkinson has been preaching to large gatherings at our 
 midday short service this week. Knox Little, if he is well 
 enough, goes on next week. The Bishop of Manchester was 
 here yesterday, full of the success of his mission time, and- 
 telling touching things of his talks with the theatrical folks. 
 — Ever yours affectionately, E. W. 0. 
 
 To THE Dean op Dukham. 
 
 Deanbet, St. Patji's, 2Sth March 1877. 
 
 Mt dear Lake — Thank you for your note — for the 
 freedom with which you have spoken, which was, of course, 
 what was invited in sending you the paper ^ — and for your 
 kindly frankness to myself. 
 
 I am quite aware of the objections that may be urged 
 against such a paper — they are as thick as blackberries ; and 
 so far from its being a " Panacea," I should have very little 
 hope that it, or anything else, is in time to do any good, 
 except that there is the experience of the last thirty or forty 
 years to encourage us. I am a most unwilling convert to 
 the demand for any present legislation. But I should hke 
 you, or any one else, to show us what better prospect there 
 is by any other course. The first step to disestablishment 
 was taken when the Archbishop called in the aid of Parlia- 
 ment to put down disputes that ought to have been left to 
 time and patience, and wise influence, to settle. My own 
 
 ^ An Address presented to the Archbishops and Bishops, 7th April 
 1877 ; followed by an explanatory letter from the Dean. See 
 Chiardian, 8th April and 2nd May, pp. 438 and 602, 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 305 
 
 fear is that it is too late to undo the mischief. I don't 
 expect much from the paper ; hut, at any rate, it enables 
 people to state their position. 
 
 Let the Ritualists have common justice in such a Church 
 as ours, and not the Mackonochie and Purchas judgments 
 expressed by Lord Penzance, on the motion of outsiders 
 and the Church Association, and then it will be time to call 
 on moderate people to protest against them. But I will 
 never be a party to screwing up the Church extra tightly in 
 one particular point, and leaving it as loose as it is in others 
 which are as grave. I certainly do think that we have great 
 cause to complain of the way in which law has been ad- 
 ministered among us. I don't know what rumours you have 
 heard about the forthcoming judgment. But those which I 
 have heard are not comfortable, though I do not trust any 
 of them. But the thing is, that I am afraid it is too late to 
 take out the sting of former proceedings. 
 
 . . . You cannot be more afraid of disestablishment than 
 I am. But I am sure of this, that the Archbishop's triist in 
 such Church law as now goes under the name, and his forc- 
 ing on men's minds, by a policy of coercion, how much 
 Parliament, as it is, may claim to do with the internal 
 interests of the Church, will not help to avert it. That it 
 may be averted by any sacrifice except of justice and honour, 
 I pray day and night. — Ever yours, 
 
 E. W. Chdech. 
 
 The consecration of Dr. Benson as the first Bishop of 
 Truro took place in St. Paul's, on St. Mark's Day, 1877, 
 and was in many ways a memorable day. It was one of the 
 first occasions in St. Paul's, when a great religious cere- 
 mony was carried out with all the order and beauty of 
 
 X 
 
306 DEAN OHUECH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 a perfected musical service. To the Dean, as the follow- 
 ing letter stows, it was further marked by the step 
 which had been made in a private friendship : — 
 
 To THE BiBHOP or Trubo. 
 
 Dbanebt, St. Pattl's, IGth May 1877. 
 
 Ml DEAR Bishop of Trubo — It is difficult to answer fit- 
 tingly a letter like yours. But you will take the will for the 
 deed, and believe that with the humility with which I ought, 
 I do most heartily respond to its undeserved and overflow, 
 ing kindness. It is a long time siace such a passage as that 
 connected with your consecration has happened in my Ufe. 
 I had no right to such happiness, in seeing you and know- 
 ing you, and in such a bright, unclouded day as that when 
 we were allowed to welcome you, and when I was allowed 
 so to take leave of you, and wish you Godspeed on your 
 great undertaking. St. Paul's, I think, was worthy to be 
 the scene of such a beginning, and of the remarkable com- 
 pany assembled in it. But it was your kindness which has 
 given me so much place in that day. It has made a mark 
 in my birthdays. 
 
 I am sure that what was so begun must prosper. I sup- 
 pose that the courage and the brightness which shone forth 
 on that day must have its trials. But the day was an 
 earnest that the idea and presage of Lightfoot's sermon would 
 be fulfilled. I hope you may be permitted to add in Corn- 
 wall another to the many victories which the revived English 
 Church has achieved, and which, in spite of disasters and 
 menacing troubles, make it the most glorious Church in 
 Christendom. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 E. W. Church. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 307 
 
 The words of hopeful anticipation with which the 
 foregoing letter closes are the more noteworthy, when 
 the circumstances under which they were written are 
 recalled. In many ways, as previous letters have shown, 
 the moment was one of grave anxiety. Mr. Tooth was 
 still in prison in Holloway Gaolj the Privy Council 
 decision on the Ridsdale Case had just been given; 
 further prosecutions under the Public Worship Act were 
 spoken of as possible and even probable. To one in the 
 Dean's position it was becoming a practical question 
 whether the time had not come to throw up place and 
 position in protest against the further continuance of 
 such a condition of things. 
 
 "I wish I could have a talk with your people," he 
 writes to the Warden of Keble, " who more represent my 
 way of looking at things than some of our hot and de- 
 spairing spirits here. But the perplexity is great. . . . And 
 yet " — and the words recall the little outburst of proud 
 confidence contained in his letter to the Bishop of Truro, 
 written a day or so before — " there is no more glorious 
 Church in Christendom than this inconsistent English 
 Church, nor one which has shown such wonderful proofs 
 of Christian life." 
 
 In the two letters that follow, to the same corre- 
 spondent, the Dean enters at greater length into the 
 question of his personal position, and the action which 
 the circumstances of the moment might demand from 
 him. 
 
308 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 To THE Warden of Kbblb. 
 
 Dbanert, St. Paul's, ISik May 1877. 
 
 Mt dear TaIiBOT — I thini that your note demands from 
 me sometliing like an attempt to say what I feel in this 
 matter. 
 
 Nothing that has happened has shaken, and I do not 
 think that anything of the same sort conld shake my heUef 
 in the present English Church. It has defects and ano- 
 malies in plenty, but so has every Church that I know of, 
 or that I ever heard of. And there is in it a vigour, a power of 
 recovery, and an increasing value for what is good and true, 
 which I see nowhere else. But it is a question what in- 
 dividuals ought to do when, either in a Church or a nation, 
 they seem to see a policy deliberately followed by those who 
 happen to have power which appears to them to be unjust, 
 encroaching, and unconstitutional. If they have no special 
 position they can grumble, protest, and wait, hoping for 
 better things. But if they are in a place of honour and 
 emolument, where yet they can do nothing, and where they 
 are under the temptation of sUence and compliance from 
 private motives, submission and waiting are not so clear 
 duties. If they cannot hinder mischief, they may at least 
 resign. 
 
 I cannot help believing that the course of government 
 lately in the English Church is such a policy as I have 
 described. The Bishops, frightened by a movement which 
 they have not tried to understand or govern, have encouraged 
 appeals to law. The law courts have roughly attempted to 
 maintain existing usage. The Archbishop has aggravated 
 the mischief by stirring up the country by a measure 
 intended to facilitate the operation of this judge-made law, 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 309 
 
 while he steadily discountenances any attempt to control it 
 by the only constitutional organ of legislation left to the 
 Church. And the end is, that, while aU sorts of liberties 
 are allowed to parties in the Church which the public 
 opinion of the hour sanctions, a tight screw is put on one 
 unpopular one, and a grotesquely one-sided and stiff con- 
 formity to minute legal interpretations of rubrics is enforced 
 by penalties, and is preached and paraded as the crucial test 
 of loyalty to the Church and honest obedience to the law. 
 
 To me this seems to be unjust, unconstitutional, and 
 oppressive. It is certainly exasperating and impolitic. But 
 the only way in which I can show that I am in earnest in 
 so thinking and speaking, is by quitting the high position 
 which I hold. 
 
 You \vill believe, that though I never wished to come 
 here, it is a serious thing to give up, and begin again to 
 find something by which to help my family. That is one 
 thing to hold one back. Another is, that I most earnestly 
 desire to do nothing to shake confidence in the English 
 Church itself. I don't believe in disestablishment : I can 
 see in it nothing but the present victory of mischief in the 
 Church and in the nation. And any man's move, even 
 a simple resignation, under these circumstances, gives a 
 shake. And I am in great perplexity as to what I ought to 
 do, remembering that the Church never gains by what looks 
 like inconsistency and weak compliance by her ministers 
 who have a considerable stake to lose. — Ever yours affec- 
 tionately, E. W. Chdrch. 
 
310 DEAN CHUEOH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 To THE Warden of Keble. 
 
 Deanery, St. Patjl's, 23rd May 1877. 
 
 My dear Talbot — I don't know how to thank you for 
 the way in which you have taken my note, and for all the 
 undeserved confidence you have shown to me. All you say 
 is most weighty. Public interests, such as those of the 
 English Church, must he put hefore private feelings, and up 
 to a certain point a man is hound to sacrifice his character 
 and reputation — everything but his truth and honour — to 
 public interests. But then comes the large question of 
 public interests, and what they involve. 
 
 The Church is threatened by many things. But certainly 
 not the least fatal mischief will be the continuance of this 
 system of vexatious and worrying prosecutions and appeals 
 to law. If they cannot be stopped there really will be only 
 one remedy, and that is something that will clear the air, 
 even at the cost of some present sacrifice and trouble to the 
 Church. With all the terrible losses of 1845, I am not 
 sure that without them we should have done as well as we 
 have. They awed people, and made them think ; and gave 
 time for the latent strength of the Church to grow quietly. 
 No losses now could equal those, nor could they be in the 
 same direction ; and the Church is infinitely stronger. 
 What we want is to frighten Ritualists out of self-will and 
 extravagance, and the people in power from worrying 
 Ritualists. I believe both sides, going on in a dogged, 
 helpless conventionalism, want a lesson. It might carry 
 some Ritualists off their legs ; but it would convince the 
 Archbishop — what he does not believe — that men, who are 
 not Ritualists, are in earnest, and will not stand his policy. 
 — Yours affectionately, R. W. Church. 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 311 
 
 To Canon Church. 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, 22nd May 1877. 
 
 Dear Charles — I hope you have a brighter Whitsun- 
 tide than we have. It has turned cold and gloomy again. 
 We are all dismal and uncomfortable ourselves. No one 
 knows what is coming from this judgment, or what anybody 
 ought to do. Things are quiet so far. But I suppose that 
 the Association will soon make its move, and Mr. Tooth will 
 do something wonderful, and then the row will begin. If 
 people can be let alone there is a chance of peace ; but I 
 fear they will not. There are rumours that Eandall is to 
 be attacked. It is not- easy to know what to say or do. 
 
 ... I am going with Stanley to-morrow to see old Lord 
 
 Stratford de Eedcliffe. I wonder what he wiU say. — The 
 
 public rows are diversified with little private duels between 
 
 Liddon and Archdeacon Allen about the use of the pulpit 
 
 at St. Paul's. And, meanwhile, the great war is quietly 
 
 preparing in the East, and perhaps a rebound of it in the 
 
 West. We may see some strange things this summer. I 
 
 am sorry that Gladstone is gone to Birmingham. The 
 
 Liberal party may be reconstituted, but I greatly fear the 
 
 price. 
 
 8ih June 1877. 
 
 My visit to the great Elchi was very interesting. He 
 
 hoped that the General's papers would be published, and 
 
 said that he thought he had sent me some. Did he send 
 
 any to you ? I am not sure that he did not take me for 
 
 you. He told stories about the destruction of the Janissaries, 
 
 and the way in which he had taught Sultan Mahmoud and 
 
 Beschid Pasha (whom he thought the ablest Turk he had 
 
 known) their business. The old lion plainly liked to fight 
 
312 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTEKS pakt 
 
 Ws battles over again. He was wrapped up in dressing- 
 gown, etc., but his face was fresh, and his eye as keen as a 
 hawk's. He is past ninety. Did you see Stanley's lines on 
 his birthday ? We have Midhat for our neighbour at the 
 Eoyal Hotel, Blackfriars. He dined with Lord Stratford 
 and discoursed to him about the constitution. Lord S. 
 plainly thinks things looking ill. He has a feeling for the 
 Turks, that he might whip them, being, as they are, very 
 naughty boys, but that no one else ought to. . . .—Ever 
 yours affectionately, K. W. 0. 
 
 To Dr. Asa Grat. 
 
 20a Jvme 1877. 
 My DEAR Friend — I received the other day a volume of 
 sermons. Dr. Walker's, which Mrs. Gray was kind enough to 
 send me. Will you thank her very much for remembering 
 me, and thinking that they would interest me. They do 
 much. There is a masculine, nervous strength about them, 
 which is less common now than it used to be ; a grip of the 
 subject and idea, which brings out what it is and means, 
 closing with it like a wrestler, and not fencing with it. 
 His direct, forcible style brings home to one the loss in ova 
 modem writing of that vigorous, unadorned manner of 
 writing, which people, spoilt by modern fashions of writing 
 round and round a thing, and playing a sort of sheet- 
 lightning, over it, are apt to caU bald. To me this is always 
 very refreshing. The best writing of the last century is of 
 this kind ; and it is a relief to find oneself face to face with 
 serious and weighty thoughts, without being distracted by 
 ornament and illustration, perhaps questionable, certainly 
 that one can do without. The sermons seem to me a 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 313 
 
 fine example of real, solid, and original thoughts, severely, 
 and therefore impressively, put into words. 
 
 ... I should like to talk to you about our home affairs. 
 We are passing through a state of confusion, political and 
 ecclesiastical, that may pass away, but may lead to serious 
 changes. People are foolish, and wise people become foolish 
 in their ways of opposing folly, and drive on the foolish 
 people further ; and so things end in something like a 
 persecution of unpopular parties. And we have only just 
 escaped, if we have escaped, a war, on behalf of these hope- 
 less Turks, in one of our crazy panics about Russia and 
 India. The world is wise ; but it is very apt to be wise 
 after, not before, the event. Give our best remembrances 
 and love to Mrs. Gray, and do arrange soon to come our 
 way. — Ever yours affectionately, R. W. Church. 
 
 To Lord Blaohford. 
 
 Wells, 6th Ocloher 1877. 
 My dear Blachford — I have not yet had time to read 
 more than Greg's paper in the new Symposiwm. I always 
 read anything of his on moral or religious questions. It is 
 like reading Lucretius or Horace, in the reality of the pathetic 
 strain in which he writes. Other people, even * * * ^ 
 cannot shake off what Christianity has planted in their blood, 
 even if they deny it with all the violence in the world. 
 They are unconscious believers in better things to come, and 
 can no more help it than they can help thinking in English. 
 But Greg always seems to me really to look on life as they 
 did who had never heard of revealed religion. There is a 
 genuine feeling about life, as without any knowledge beyond 
 the mere auguries of nature. And the profound melancholy 
 
314 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 of it is expressed in words, the beauty and tenderness 
 of which, have rarely been equalled. Do you know the 
 " Enigmas of Life 1" . . . — ^Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 E. W. Ohdrch. 
 
 From 1876 to 1878, the Dean was for the second 
 time appointed select preacher at Oxford. A sermon 
 preached during the course, "Responsibility for our 
 Belief," occasioned the letters which follow. The 
 sermon, after dwelling upon the character which respon- 
 sibility for belief assumes, had gone on to speak of the 
 hope for those who, seeking honestly, were "feeling 
 after God," though they had not yet attained to an 
 intellectual acceptance of the Christian creed. The 
 Dean's correspondent, who was at the time personally 
 unknown to him, urged that the same hope ought to 
 apply to the case of the multitude of lives which, to all 
 appearance, seem spent and wasted in sin and misery. 
 The Dean's answer, together with a letter written a year 
 later to the Principal of Hertford College, are placed 
 together, in order better to preserve the thread of con- 
 nection which their subject suggests. 
 
 q<o * * * *. 
 
 Deanbbt, St. Paul's, 2Zrd November 1877. 
 My dear Sir — There is, it seems to me, a wide difference 
 between earnest seeking with purpose and sincerity, and the 
 shortcomings and failure of the moral nature, however 
 occasioned. The one has the distinct promise that seeking 
 shall find. Whatever one says of the millions of publicans 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 315 
 
 and sinners, or the " six score thousand persons that cannot 
 discern between their right hand and their left," must rest 
 on other promises. There, it seems to me that we are 
 between the certainties of God's justice, mercy, and love, on 
 the one hand ; and on the other, our own absolute and 
 hopeless ignorance as to how He deals, and wOl deal, with 
 these millions, both in and out of Christendom, as to whom 
 the first difficulty that presents itself is, — why they were 
 bom for such inevitable lives, and, apparently, certain moral 
 failure ? I say apparently, because none but He who knows, 
 in each concrete case, the Hght given, and the real move- 
 ments of the will, can know what the failure really is. 
 Scripture, which tells us the doom not only of deliberate sin, 
 but of sinful trifling and carelessness in those who know, or 
 might have known, is silent about these masses of mankind, 
 who, so far as we can see, are without what we have. 
 
 It seems to me that the. difference in the condition of the 
 vdll, about which, in the case I mentioned, we do know 
 something, and about which, in the case you put, we know 
 nothing, aUows us to speak with a confidence in one case 
 which would be out of place in the other. We want, and 
 need to speak with confidence in one case, to encourage men 
 to seek. In the other case we ask, " Are there few that be 
 saved 1 " to give ease to our anxious sympathies about those 
 whose case we can but — and well may — leave in the hands 
 of the all-Holy and all-Merciful. 
 
 Of the publicans and sinners I do not doubt that many 
 will see and know Him there, who did not know Him here. 
 But I cannot tell who they are. I only know that now, as 
 far as I can see, they are going against His will. I do not 
 know, for He has not said a word to tell me, what He will 
 do with them, Man's destiny stops not with the grave. 
 
316 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 There may be discipline for character and will beyond it. 
 But I cannot speak of it, for I know nothing of it. I only 
 know the discipline which goes on here, and which we are 
 told is so eventful. I have, on the one hand, aU the hopes 
 which spring out of God's infinite perfection. I have, to 
 check the speculations of anxious human sympathy, the 
 certainty of my own ignorance — ignorance, the depth of 
 which I cannot measure or comprehend ; and further, the 
 very awful fact of the difficulty with which character and 
 will undergo a 'change when once they are fixed and con- 
 firmed. 
 
 You see that I can sympathise with your anxieties of 
 thought ; their effect on me is to make me feel how hard it 
 is to speak soberly and fittingly about those things on the 
 other side of the veil. We cannot know or even guess at 
 them now. We shall know something about them soon. — 
 Yours faithfully, R W. Church! 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Mells, 5th December 1877. 
 My dbae Sir — Thank you for your note. I think it is 
 important in reference to this matter to bear in mind that, 
 in speaking of sin and sinners, we are apt to take as our type 
 of sin one particular class of sin, the sins of the "publican 
 and the harlot." It is natural that revolting, ruinous, and 
 flagrant as they are, they should represent sin to our mind. 
 Yet there are sins more malignant, and more difficult to con- 
 ceive cured. I can conceive many of these poor creatures, 
 whom the world speaks of as " lost," blindly " seeking after 
 God." It is difficult to me to conceive this of those who, 
 with full knowledge and all advantages, prey on human 
 happiness in one way or another — the selfish seekers of their 
 
HI ST. PAUL'S 317 
 
 own interest and pleasure,^ like the man — I forget his name 
 — Mr. Grand sometMng, in Daniel Beronda. 
 
 May it not be as to the trutli of this question, and the 
 relation between God's mercy and justice at last, that, as in 
 the ease of many other truths, we are " not yet able to bear 
 it." When one thinks of how the will is able to deceive 
 and delude itself, I can quite believe that it is not safe for 
 us to be told. — I hope some time I may have the pleasure of 
 meeting you. — ^Youra faithfully, R. W. Church. 
 
 To THE Pbincipal of Heetford. 
 
 llth November 1878. 
 
 Mt dear Principal — I am afraid I have nothing more 
 to say than I said in the sernjon,^ which is, as you say, an 
 expression of ignorance. Indeed, my own feeling about the 
 whole subject is, that the wisest thing men can do is to culti- 
 vate diligently a sense of their own hopeless ignorance, and 
 to have the courage to say " I cannot tell." 
 
 What Eternity is I cannot conceive, certainly not a pa/rte 
 ante, and really not in prcesenti or a pwrte post. There is one 
 great term of the discussion involved in darkness I Then, 
 as to the purpose of God's creation, who shall venture to be 
 peremptory about its necessary purpose and conclusion, when 
 he has the fact of evil staring him in the face. The fact of 
 
 1 "It seema to me," the Dean writes in another letter, "that 
 people get into the way of identifying sin with one kind of sin — the 
 sin of the outcasts — and forget the sins of character, of the Pharisees, 
 and of the wicked, wise conspirators against human good and happi- 
 ness, who are eminently the Bible type of the sinners who have every- 
 thing to fear. " 
 
 ' "Sin and Judgment," preached during the Dean's course as 
 select preacher, 1876-1878, and published in the volume of University 
 Sermons, entitled Human Life and its Conditions. 
 
318 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 evil is to me quite as great a crux as even eternal punish- 
 ment ; and even eternal punishment thought of, not for such 
 as you and me, who know so much, and perhaps have so 
 much on their consciences, but for the millions upon millions 
 who have not known their right hand from their left, and to 
 whom life has had no opportunity of good, or respite from 
 eviL The common topic against eternal punishment, " Could 
 any man of ordinary feeling appoint it? and if not, how 
 could God?" is quite as strong about evil. How can we 
 imagine ourselves, supposing we had omnipotence or omni- 
 science, enduring to bring into being such unintermitting 
 masses of misery and sin ? The difficulty of finally dealing 
 with evil is to me a far less difficulty than that of evil itself. 
 The ordinary language about eternal punishment seems to 
 me simply to forget the fact of the equal difficulty of eviL 
 Two difficulties do not make one solution ; but at least they 
 ought to teach patience and guarded language. 
 
 On the other hand. Scripture, though awfully plain- 
 spoken and stem, seems to me very general in its language 
 On. this matter. I heard a sermon yesterday in the same 
 sense as * * *'s, and though it was forcible in its Scripture 
 proofs, I can only say it simply worried and almost exasper- 
 ated me, because it assumed aU through that we knew the 
 exact definite purport of the Scripture terms used, and that 
 they were used in exact correspondence with our own on 
 the same subject I doubt the assumption, and if I am 
 asked "What is the use of the Scripture language?" my 
 answer is that the general aim intended, viz. the certain and 
 terrible punishment of sin, may be attained without satis- 
 fying definite questions about how, and how long, and what 
 nai. 
 
 I have no doubt that we have not yet reached the true 
 
iir ST. PAUL'S 319 
 
 and complete method of Scripture exegesis, and that a great 
 deal remains to be done by sober and reverential inquiry, in 
 distinguishing between its definite and precise language 
 (" the Word was God ") and its vague or incidental or un- 
 qualified language ("hate his father and mother," "shall 
 not come out till he has paid the uttermost farthing "). But 
 I shrink much from speculating on the human knowledge 
 of our blessed Lord, or the limitations — and they may have 
 been great — which He was pleased to impose on Himself, 
 when He " emptied Himself," and became as one of us. I 
 have never been satisfied with the ordinary explanations of 
 the text you quote, St. Matt. xxiv. 36. They seem simply 
 to explain it away as much as any Unitarian gloss of St. 
 John i. 1. To me it means that He who was to judge the 
 world, who knew what was in man, and more, who alone 
 knew the Father, was at that time content to have that hour 
 hidden from Him — did not choose to be above the angels in 
 knowing it — as He was afterwards content to be forsaken of 
 the Father. But the whole is perfectly inconceivable to my 
 mind, and I could not base any general theory of His 
 kliowledge on it. — I think it is very likely that we do not 
 imderstand the meaning of much that is said in Scripture ; — 
 its sense, and the end and purport for which at the time it 
 was said. But it would perplex me much to think that He 
 was imperfect or ignorant in what He did say, whether we 
 understood Him or not. 
 
 I am afraid I have not written what is worth your 
 reading. But really all I have to say amounts to this — that 
 I feel that a sense of ignorance, which it is impossible to 
 over-estimate, ought to play a much larger part in our dis- 
 cussions on the future than it usually does. — Ever yours, 
 
 K. W. Church. 
 
320 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS pari 
 
 To Dk. Asa Qeat. 
 Deanekt, St. PAtrL's, 28th Jarmary 1878. 
 
 My dear Friend — . . . Well, the "Suave mari magno" 
 is on your side of the world now. I don't know how it will 
 end. £ut our policy under Dizzy has just brought us 
 within an inch of a war, which, if it had begun, might well 
 not have left us what we are. They are at it at this 
 moment in the House of Commons, discussing the ministerial 
 demand for an extra war vote of six millions. I suppose 
 they will get it. We hope that now the immediate danger 
 of war is passed. But a great part of the nation is very 
 mad to uphold the Turks ; and we are not out of the wood. 
 And I have been for some days thinking of the humiliation 
 for an English citizen of seeing his country committed to an 
 unnecessary and unjust war, and to one of the greatest 
 crimes of our generation. 
 
 I hope soon to meet Sir J. Hooker, and hear about your 
 adventures. He is, I hope, coming to diue with us, and, 
 you know, he is good company. He was in St. Paul's only 
 yesterday, but I could not catch him. I should like to look 
 forward to the prospect, three years hence, of a scour across 
 America. But, somehow, one of my superstitions all my 
 life has been, not a shrinking, but an incapacity to reahse 
 being aUve and well so long forward as three years. I have 
 come, nevertheless, to the ripe age of sixty-three. But to 
 add three years to that seems an inconceivable thing. How- 
 ever, I wiU look forward ; and I hope, too, to seeing yon 
 here. I should like to show you St. Paul's, more than I 
 should have done five years ago. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 E. W. Church. 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 321 
 
 Dr. Mozley's death, after long failure of health, had 
 taken place in the beginning of 1878. In the letter 
 which follows reference is made to an article which 
 Lord Blachford was preparing on two volumes of his- 
 torical essays which had been republished since Dr. 
 Mozley's death : — 
 
 To Lord Blachford. 
 
 Zebmatt, 30(h August 1878. 
 
 My dear Blachford — . I am so very glad that you 
 are going to do J. B. M. I wish I could have some talk 
 about it, because thoughts are beaten out in talking which 
 lie still when one is writing. It would be interesting to 
 trace the maturing of his affluence and richness of ideas and 
 words, from the almost dithyrambio bursts in Strafford, to the 
 more regulated magnificence of his later rhetoric. He was a 
 bit of a despiser when he did not like or understand. . . . 
 It kept him from doing a justice which he could well afford 
 to do to things which he was opposing ; and so really weakens 
 argument, because ignoring what his opponents might think 
 their best points. He never seemed to me to feel the force 
 of an opposite argument, till it was really beginning to tell 
 on his own views, and to modify or change them. I hope 1 
 shall have a chance of talking about this when I get 
 back. 
 
 Thank you for Newman's letter.^ How very curious 
 
 1 The Okatokv, i2nd July 1878. 
 Mt deab Blachford — I am glad you are so niucli pleased with 
 P. and A. I thought you would be, though, of course, such a book is, 
 or must be, fairly open to many criticisms. But you are merciful. I 
 find that Amadeus took his quotation from Virgil from the motto to 
 the Paper on Instinct in Addison's Spectator, not having his Virgil 
 
 Y 
 
322 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS past 
 
 that he should be dazzled, and what a curious bit of English 
 feeling : " it opens such a view of England, great in the 
 deeds of their forefathers . . . and not degenerate," etc. 
 Fancy any of the Romans writing so ; e.g. Ward, with his 
 heathen mock-virtue of patriotism. I should think that N. 
 was almost the unique cross between a true Briton of the 
 proud school of Chatham and Burke, and the enthusiastic, 
 devout, fervid Eoman Catholic. But then the irresistible 
 sense of the grotesquenesa of the business finds its place too. 
 It is one of the most characteristic little notes of his that I 
 have seen for a long time. It is odd, too, the touch about 
 " hypocrisy,'' which he does not see. 
 
 I am reading Proteus.^ It is very interesting, but 
 Proteus seems to me to be weak. I feel sometimes an in- 
 clination both to give a shove — " My dear fellow can't you 
 put your case better,'' and also to let fly at his assumptions. 
 It never seems to occur to him to clear to his own mind 
 
 with him. The Guardian throws out the guess that perhaps it was 
 not a real coixespondence — ^but I know the parties, and each wpuld 
 have liked to alter what he had written, hut they thought it would 
 take jEroni the life of the discussion if they did so — ^but surely the 
 outlines of P. 's life, with the Jesuits at Constantinople, and with the 
 Bedemptorists at Clapham, are too holdly drawn to be fictions. Nor 
 would a Catholic writer of fiction make ]iis opponent a Catholic. 
 
 As to Disraeli's firework, I confess I am much dazzled with it, 
 and wish it well. It is a grand idea that of hugging from love the 
 Turk to death, instead of the Russian bear, which, as a poem or 
 romance, finds a weak part in my imagination. And then it opens 
 such a view of England, great in the deeds of their forefathers, 
 showing that they are not degenerate sons, but rising with the 
 occasion in fulfilment of the "Tu ne cede mails, sed contra audentior 
 ito." And then it is so laughably clever a move, in a grave diplo- 
 matic congress — and then it opens such wonderful views of the future, 
 that I am overcome by it. Nor do I see the hypocrisy you speak 
 of. — Ever yours aff'eotionately, John H. Nbwmait. 
 
 ' Proteus and Amadeus ; a Correspondence, edited by Aubrey de 
 Vere. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 323 
 
 what he means by that wonderful and mysterious "matter,"' 
 which could be "unconsciously just," and "wise," and 
 " creative " ; and why not also " unconsciously generous, and 
 compassionate, and affectionate,'' etc. etc. But I am only 
 half through it. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. C. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Dbanbkt, St. Paul's, ifh November 1878. 
 My dear Blachfoed — I have just got out of the bustle 
 of the bells.i The excitement they caused was reaUy 
 curious. Though notices had appeared in the papers that 
 there was to be nothing unusual in the service of the day, 
 the people were determined to believe that there would 
 something happen which they could see by coming to church. 
 And we were besieged for tickets as if for a great musical 
 service. Of course many came to hear the bells open ; but 
 this hardly accounted for the crowd in the church, which 
 was full from end to end. However, they had the sight of 
 ' the procession which went through the nave, and disappeared 
 at one of the doors on its way to the belfry. It was very 
 good of the Bishop to climb up all the steps to the ringing 
 loft, where we all assembled, and had the service I showed 
 you. It was a striking sight in its way. The chamber was 
 filled with the choir in surplices, and, mounted on their 
 ringing boxes, the twelve or thirteen "college youths," 
 stalwart fellows in their shirt sleeves, grasping their ropes, 
 and standing still and silent like statues. There was some- 
 thing odd about the scene, which suggested somehow a 
 scaffold and execution. 
 
 ' A peal of twelve bells had been hnng in the south-west tower 
 of the cathedral ; they were rung for the first time on All Saints' Day, 
 1878. 
 
324 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 Then, when, the service was over, the Bishop, or Ms 
 chaplain for him, gave the word. Go. And then they hegan 
 slowly and gently pulling, and we heard the sounds 
 ahove. When the people in the Churchyard heard it they 
 gave a great cheer ; and they hung about the place all the 
 evening. The crowds were delighted _with them in spite of 
 Mr. Haweis. The Times could not leave us alone. How- 
 ever, it has brought out the Bishop of London on our side. 
 
 There is an odd impression of want of confidence about ; 
 — "what a mess," is the sort of typical phrase you hear 
 about you. But nobody knows anything. Paul told me 
 that he heard from the Abhd Martia in Paris that J. H. N. 
 is to be a Cardinal, if he lives till Easter. 
 
 ... I am going to dine at the "Literary" to-night, 
 where I may see Sir James Colvile, and possibly the new 
 earL Kindest remembrances at Blachford and Moor Cross. 
 — -Ever yours affectionately, R W. C. 
 
 In the beginning of 1879, the vacant Bishopric of • 
 Durham was offered to, and in the result was accepted 
 by Dr. Lightfoot. 
 
 To THE Bishop or Tedeo. 
 
 Deanery, St. Patjl's, 2Srd January 1879. 
 
 My dbae Bishop of Teuro — First, I must thank you 
 for the cathedral book — for the work itself, for republishing 
 it, and for the inscription with which my copy has come 
 to me. 
 
 And next, for writing to me about this most anxious 
 matter, which touches us both so deeply, and not ua only, 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 325 
 
 but greater things. I admit that it is hard for me to be 
 fair. The thought of losing him is dreadful. And I know 
 that I have a character of being a coward in these things. 
 And all that you urge is of the greatest weight ; and you 
 have put the side which Westcott (e.g.) takes with the 
 greatest force, when you urge the value of his " spirit of 
 counsel " in the high councils of the Church. It is a point 
 which, as I expected he would, the Archbishop urged when 
 Lightfoot saw him yesterday ; and with good reason, though 
 he frightened Lightfoot by expressing anxiety as to who 
 there would be to take Ms own plcice if he were removed, 
 and opening further prospects of tremendous responsibility. 
 And I am worldly enough, too, to feel a great rising of heart 
 at the recognition, with such, and not inadequate honour, 
 of the first scholar of the English Church. 
 
 But yet, even for that, I do look with distress at the 
 breaking off just now of the career which he has deliberately 
 designed for himself, which he is fulfilling so nobly and so 
 usefully, and in which he leaves no successor ; none, I mean, 
 of the same rare and commanding powers. For he is not 
 only full of knowledge, he is able to make knowledge live. 
 He is able to animate it with the sense of its connection 
 with the needs and hopes of present modern life. And at 
 Cambridge, I take it, he is showing a crowd of men, who 
 are to take our places, how this is to be done. To be the 
 foremost teacher of Christian learning at Cambridge at such 
 a time as this is to hold a critical post, which is, in its way, 
 alone and without its fellow, even in the highest places of 
 the Church. 
 
 It is true, as you say, that counsel is wanted, and fresh 
 thought and independent ideas of a Bishop's leadership, not 
 after custom and the world, but after the greatness of his 
 
224 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 of tlie Episcopal tailors, and the strange apparatus wMcli 
 they display before him, and tell him that he must have. 
 Moberly is flourishing at Salisbury. I was there for the 
 Christmas Ordination, and found him brisker and in better 
 health than I have seen him for many years. The open air 
 work suits him ; and I believe that he does his confirmations, 
 etc., very weU. The palace in summer time must be one of 
 the most charming places in England. 
 
 What a wonderful affair this Eoman Council is getting ! 
 It seems to me almost the most crowning event of the age, 
 and one which no one could have imagined possible. And 
 I suppose it really would not have happened but for Manning 
 and Ward. I never could have guessed that it would have 
 precipitated, like a chemical reagent, all this mass of recal- 
 citrant independence, which is not Protestantism, nor even 
 Gallicanism, but simply secret hatred, and contempt, and 
 indignation at the Roman Court and its tricks and humbug. 
 One's old feelings towards Heads of Houses, Symons and Co., 
 make one partly understand how fellows like Dupanloup are 
 dealt with, and how they don't like it. There is a good deal 
 of Nemesis in it, for all their past flatteries and unctuous 
 rhetoric about Rome and the Pope. I should think that at 
 Rome they could not have anticipated all this fuss, or they 
 would have done without the Council, which they quite well 
 might have done. But now I don't see how they can help 
 passing the personal infallibility. Not to do it, or to evade 
 it, would simply be to show themselves beaten by internal 
 disunion. They had better risk schism, which I don't expect, 
 however, than that. It may cost them a great deal in the~ 
 next generation, but I doubt whether they care for that 
 The world is full of warnings to people that they may be 
 taken at their word, and that they had better measure their 
 
II WHATLEY 225 
 
 statements, and not talk big ; but the position of the French 
 bishops -is one of the most remarkable ones. — Ever yours 
 affectionately, • R. W. Church. 
 
 To Dr. Aba Gray. 
 
 Whatlist, Uh February 1870. 
 
 Mt dear Friend — I suppose by this time that you and 
 Mrs. Gray must almost have forgotten that this time 
 last year you were in Egypt, and that only a few months 
 ago we were all lying on the turf, counting the flowers on 
 the Riffelberg. I hope that both of you find that you have 
 brought back a good fund to draw. upon in the winter, and 
 for work. 
 
 You will have heard before now of Fraser's elevation. I 
 knew that it was coming sooner or later. But if a place 
 could have been looked out for him to suit him, it would 
 have been hard to find a better place than Manchester. He 
 is a man of large sympathies and fixed opinions of his own ; 
 ever since I knew him, independent and able to resist the 
 currents from different sides which have swept across clerical 
 opinion during his time ; but always winning not only 
 respect but affection from people with whom he has been 
 associated, and who are as widely separated from one another 
 as the late Bishop Hamilton of Salisbury and Mr. Liddon 
 are from Mr. Lingen and the authorities at the Privy Council 
 oflice. His manner has something of the offhandedness of a 
 boy, and with his large knowledge and practical shrewdness 
 there is a curious boyish simplicity about him. But he 
 knows his work, and his heart is in it, and I hope a good 
 deal from him at Manchester. But no doubt he will come 
 on trying times. 
 
 I think, sometimes, that we are nearer than we know to 
 Q 
 
328 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 As far as I understand tie difficulty it is this : How 
 could our Lord really have sympatMsed in all human pain, 
 when He could not, by supposition, have known that which 
 gives it its worst sting — its apparent uselessness and its 
 helplessness ? Well, I can only say that I cannot form the 
 faintest conception how, in the actual depths of that Diviije 
 suffering nature, all human pain was borne, and shared, and 
 understood. I can only see it from the outside. I see the 
 suffering ; I am told, on His authority, what it means and 
 involves. I can, if I like, and as has often been done, go on 
 and make a theory how He bore our sius, and how He gained 
 their forgiveness, and how He took away the sins of the 
 world. But I own that the longer I live the more my mind 
 recoils from such efforts. It seems to me so idle, so, in the 
 very nature of our condition, hopeless, just in proportion as 
 one seems to grasp more really the true nature of all that 
 went on beyond the visible sight of the Cross, all that was 
 in Him who was God and man, whose capacities and inner 
 life human experience carmot reach or reflect. But one of 
 the thoughts which pass sometimes through our minds about 
 the sufferings of the Cross, is, what could be the necessity 
 of such suffering? What was the use of it? How, with 
 infinite power, could not its ends have been otherwise 
 attained ? Why need He have suffered ? Why could not 
 the Father save Him from that hour ? Did that thought, 
 in the limitations and " emptying " (Phil. ii. 7) of the Passion, 
 pass through His mind too ? 
 
 But I suppose that, after all, the real difficulty is not 
 about Him, but ourselves. Why pain at aU ? I can only 
 say that the very attempt to give an answer, that the very 
 thought of an answer by us being conceivable, seems to me 
 one which a reasonable being in our circumstances ought not 
 
HI ST. PAUL'S 329 
 
 to entertain. It seems to me one of those questions which 
 can only be expressed by such a figure as a fly trying to get 
 through a glass window, or a human being jumping into 
 space ; that is, it is almost impossible to express the futility 
 of it. It is obvious that it is part of a wider subject, that it 
 could not be answered by itself, that we should need to know 
 a great many other things to have the power of answering. 
 And what is the use of asking what we cannot know ? Why 
 we are what we are ; — how what was not came into being ; 
 — what is the present life, the mode of action, the presence 
 of the Divine Being ; — what is eternity ; — what is going on 
 in the fixed stars ? — It is one of those questions about our 
 present condition of which, if we choose, we may ask any 
 number, with the same chance of an answer. Why is 
 Nature, being so perfect, yet so imperfect 1 Why of all the 
 countless faces which I meet as I walk down the Strand, are 
 the enormous majority failures- — deflections from the type of 
 beauty possible to them ? Why are there poisons, and what 
 is the use of poisonous beasts ? For a snake, a bee, a wasp, 
 don't want their poisons to take their food. Or to take what 
 to me is as much the crux of our condition as pain — the 
 relation of the sexes, the passion of love ; how strange, how 
 extravagant, how irrationally powerful over aU the world, 
 how at the root of the best things of life, how at the root 
 of its very worst ? Strange, ambiguous, perplexing lot for 
 creatures made in the image of God. 
 
 Of course this is only Butler again ; it is only vagueness 
 and platitude. Every one knows it. But not only I cannot 
 get beyond it, but I cannot imagine any one doing so. And 
 then it comes to the old story : here are facts and phenomena 
 on both sides, some leading to belief, some to unbelief ; and 
 we human creatures, with our affections, our hopes and 
 
330 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 wishes and our wills, stand, as it were, solicited by either 
 set of facts. The facts which witness to the goodness and 
 the love of God are clear and undeniable ; they are not got 
 rid of by the presence and certainty of other facts, which 
 seem of an opposite kind ; only the coexistence of the two 
 contraries is perplexing. And then comes the question which 
 shall have the decisive governing influence on wills and lives 1 
 You must, by the necessity of your existence, trust one set of 
 appearances ; which will you trust ? Onr Lord came among 
 us not to clear up the perplexity, but to show us which side 
 to take. 
 
 The paper you sent me speaks of the deteriorating effect 
 of pain. I most entirely recognise the accuracy of the 
 observation. It is one of the most terrible features of 
 suffering. But then it must be remembered that anything, 
 not only pain, may be deteriorating — either by fault of the 
 will, if health and faculties are unimpaired, or, as is, we 
 hope, often the case in illness, by failure of that physical 
 organisation through which the will acted soundly and 
 loyally when the man was in health. And how terribly 
 deteriorating is the effect sometimes, not merely of success, but 
 of a simply quiet, undisturbed life. We are poor creatures, 
 and yet we have in us the making of heroes and saints. 
 
 You see I have rambled on into sermonising. I hope 
 your friend will forgive me ; and remember that I do not 
 pretend to fulfil her conditions, though I thoroughly sym- 
 pathise with the frame of mind which imposes them. 
 
 I do not know Hinton's book, but I quite agree that the 
 sufferings of the inferior animals are almost the most difB.cult 
 part of the subject. Their condition, generally, gives me 
 vertigo when I think of it. — Yours ever, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 331 
 
 Tte transition is an abrupt one from this letter to 
 the two which follow it, which recall memories of Basle 
 and Constance, where part of the summer holidays 
 of 1879 had been passed. But brief though they are, 
 they are too characteristic to be omitted. 
 
 To THE Warden of Keblb. 
 
 Deanbet, St. Paul's, 21st August 1879. 
 My dear Warden — ... I forget what you know of 
 my proceedings in the last fortnight abroad. The feature of 
 them was a closer acquaintance with Basle — its minster, its 
 towers, and its Holbeins. There the memory of the Council 
 is shadowy; it was a feeble affair after Constance. But the 
 interest of Basle is about Erasmus, and his printer Froben, 
 and his painter Holbein, and his friend and executor Boni- 
 face Amerbach, the collector of all the Holbein relics which 
 enrich the museum, and his great rival CEcolampadius, the 
 Zwinglian reformer ; and all the tombs and epitaphs in the 
 cloisters of the men with famous names, Buxtorfs, and 
 Burckhardts, and Wettsteins, and Bauhins, and Meyers, and 
 Sohweighausers, etc., scholars and professors of the brilliant 
 days of Basle. I have been reading about Erasmus since, 
 and with great interest. He is a man whom it is impossible 
 to admire, and yet, in such a time of turmoil, violence, and 
 breaking up of foundations, one cannot but have sympathy 
 for his perplexities, and wonder for his bright and keen 
 intellect, his indefatigable laboriousneas, and his singular 
 good sense. But he was selfish, insincere, and mean-spirited. 
 — Ever yours, R. W. Church. 
 
332 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Dbanekt, St. Paul's, 10th October 1879. 
 
 Mt dear Warden — Thank you very muoli for re- 
 memlJeriBg the Lay Sermon. I am very glad to have it. 
 I must look at Milman's account of the Council [of 
 Constance] : I only know Lenfant's. I am sure that it is 
 a turning-point worth knowing about. Of course there was 
 an immense lot of rubbish about it ; and the mischief had 
 gone so deep into the Church and society, that none but 
 strong men and strong measures, and further, real knowledge, 
 could have seriously turned things right. But there were 
 good men there, like Gerson, who burned, and Huss, who 
 was burned ; and Hallam, who probably was more of a states- 
 man than the foreigners. But it was not to be. They got 
 rid of the schism, and John SXIII., and they got back at 
 once to their old Popes and ways, Colonnas and Piccolominis, 
 and so on to Borgias and Riarios and Delia Eoveres. Even 
 if they had had a stronger prophet than Gerson, I suppose 
 he would not have prevailed any more than Elijah did, or 
 Isaiah, or Jeremiah. I sometimes wonder what Savonarola 
 would have done if he had been at Constance or even Basle. 
 I suppose they would have burnt him all the same ; but 
 with that popular power, which Gerson wanted, he might 
 have done something ; — ^hardly, perhaps, among Germans. 
 
 I do not know when I can come and see you. I came 
 back all well from Devonshire, and two or three days in 
 town bring me back at once to what I was before I went 
 away. — Ever yours, E. W. Church. 
 
ST. PAUL'S 333 
 
 "Po * * * *. 
 
 Deaneky, St. Paul's, Sth March 1880. 
 
 My dear Sie — You have asked me a hard question, and 
 one on which, after all, each man's experience is perhaps his 
 best guide. My own belief is that it is not booJcs (like 
 Spenser and Shakespeare at least) which do mischief, but 
 compamons. If children can be kept from evil companion- 
 ship, I believe that for the most part they pass through 
 books with shut eyes and entire unconsciousness. I assume 
 that the atmosphere of the book is wholesome, and the 
 general interest high and attractive. I am quite sure that I 
 used, as a boy, to read the old Aralnan Nights without a 
 suspicion of what is only too obvious to grown people, simply 
 carried away by the excitement and wonder of the story. 
 And so I am sure that children whom I know have read 
 Shakespeare, and come to know it well. 
 
 If children learn nothing from companions and servants, 
 I believe they will learn little or nothing from books. But 
 of course when, and if, their eyes are opened, then danger 
 begins. But my own belief is that, speaking generally, it is 
 not one of great magnitude, if children have been well and 
 Christianly trained, if their sense of duty has been kept 
 strong, and their natural instincts of purity, modesty, and 
 shame at evil and coarseness, have been fostered. There is 
 all this on the side of good against the Jiromptings of evil, 
 and still more of curiosity ; and besides, in the case of great 
 writers, there is their greatness and nobleness, and height of 
 feeling and thought, throwing into, and keeping in the 
 background what is bad. This it is which makes the 
 difference between Shakespeare and the other Elizabethan 
 dramatists. If this were not so, reading would be a dangerous 
 
334 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 gift. The dangers from books are not so much for cMldren 
 as for grown-up people — perhaps even the older they get. — 
 Yours faithfuUy, B. W. Chuboh. 
 
 To Lord Blachfobd. 
 
 Deahekt, St. Paul's, SOth March 1880. 
 
 My dear Blachford — I was at a crush at Tennyson's 
 last night. It seemed to me that the room was throbbing 
 with Anti-Gladstonianism. Tennyson began by asking me 
 whether I was a great admirer of Diz. — Well, he said, he 
 was not either — ^he was always a Liberal ; but really the way 
 in wMch * * * was going on, also * * * was quite in- 
 tolerable ; and then he spoke of the Austrian business very 
 bitterly. 
 
 Then I came across Spedding — (what a harangner — a good 
 one — he is). He went on in the same' way, only more 
 temperately and evenly than the poet, witbout jerks. He 
 said that his sympathies had been all his life with the 
 Liberal party (he still read his Daily News), but that as 
 things are, he could not now wish them to come into power. 
 He did not see what they could do, or how they could 
 improve things. — Then Gladstone. He ought to have held 
 a position quite unique in England by this time, and have 
 been the most powerful person among us, with a capacity 
 for benefiting the country which no one for years had had, 
 and no one else could have ; something analogous to that 
 of the Duke of Wellington, only bigher, in proportion to 
 his larger political experience and larger sympathies : that of 
 a moderator above all parties. . . . He thought that after 
 all, things had gone well under this Government He did 
 not think tbere was much in the cries raised against them : 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 335 
 
 " Imperialism," for instance. He suggested that it was one 
 of Dizzy's dodges and amusements from time to time to 
 ttrow out a phrase " to be worried," like " scientific frontier," 
 and "ascendancy," and "unconstitutional" — knowing that 
 he had the thing all right. It was a frank despair of the 
 Liberal cause from an old Liberal. 
 
 Then Stanley was very brisk — he had just been writing 
 to a French friend, that he was at war with "les Clericaux, 
 les Medicaux {i.e. the Westminster Hospital doctors), et les 
 Eadicaux." The whole scene gave me a sense of the wave 
 of Conservatism which is sweeping over us, and of the in- 
 tense disgust at Gladstone among the " thinkers." Spedding 
 said that Adam, the Whip, is very confident. 
 
 The City of London Conservatives have placed their 
 claim on the sole ground of the foreign policy of the Govern- 
 ment. No doubt they know best what will tell in the City ; 
 but it is surprising. But it clears my view, and I shall 
 vote for the three candidates who do not represent approval 
 of this foreign policy. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 E. W. 0. 
 
 The ecclesiastical history of 1880 is full of the 
 perplexities and troubles brought about by the ritual 
 litigation which had grown up since the passing of the 
 Public "Worship Regulation Act. The Clewer and 
 Mackonochie suits exhibit under one aspect the course 
 and character assumed by such prosecutions; another 
 and more painful side was shown in the cases of Mr. 
 Dale of St. Vedast, in the City of London, of Mr. 
 Enraght of Holy Trinity, Bordesley, — and after a short 
 delay, caused by some technical point in the procedure, 
 — of Mr. Green of St. John's, Miles Platting, where 
 
336 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 the refusal to recognise that "civil courts, imposed 
 upon the Church by Parliament, and never accepted by 
 the Church herself, acting freely and in her corporate 
 capacity, ought to govern the conscience and conduct of 
 English clergymen," ^ had at length brought about the 
 penalty of imprisonment for contempt of court. Distress 
 and indignation grew more widespread and fierce, when 
 it was seen to what extremities such enforcement of 
 the law in ritual prosecutions might lead; and the 
 letters, memorials, and protests of the year all combine 
 - to show how acutely critical the situation had become. 
 "It is much easier," writes the Dean to a correspondent 
 at the close of the year, "to see how much amiss things 
 are than to mend them.'' 
 
 Things that have got into confusion by our fault or 
 negligence cannot be set right at will. But I think that 
 we have had a warning where danger lies, and we must see 
 to it as well as we can. ... It seems to me that an immediate 
 want is the restoration of peace by putting an end to aU 
 this law business, with its imprisonments and deprivations, 
 and a willingness on the part of the Bishops to stand forward 
 as the upholders of fair liberty ; and a reasonable and 
 generous toleration of differences, even strong differences of 
 ritual. If they cannot see their way to this, they must 
 make up their minds to seeing men who are not Ritualists 
 refusing to share any longer the dishonour of an administra- 
 tion so partial and unjust. 
 
 And next we must see how we can best indicate and 
 
 ^ See letter from Dr, Liddon. Giuwdian, 24th NoTember 1880, 
 p. 1628. 
 
"I ST. PAUL'S 337 
 
 secure, according to the present needs of our time, the 
 spiritual character of our Church. It is not easy, but we 
 must try. 
 
 ... I hardly think the time has come for any meeting, 
 and I am not the person to take the lead in a meeting. It 
 may he necessary, but it is a dangerous instrument ; and if 
 it saved the Athanasian creed, it had, I fear, something to do 
 with passing the Public "Worship Act. It infuriated the 
 House of Commons. But the more and the more earnestly 
 the opinions and feelings of the clergy are brought home to 
 the knowledge of our authorities in Church or State the 
 better. 
 
 Two letters to Canon Carter of Clewer carry on the 
 subject to the further consideration of the remedies to 
 be sought for to put an end to this state of things : — 
 
 To Canon Carter. 
 
 Deanery, St. Pattl's, 23rd Decemier 1880. 
 My dear Me. Carter — I ought to have thanked you 
 before for your most interesting note. I think I entirely 
 agree, and I am sorry for it, with your view of matters — ^that 
 is, I see no exit at present. If the Archbishop was so 
 alarmed as to realise to himself the state of things, he might 
 help us. But the newspapers and the clubs and people 
 like * * * tell him that he is all right, that he has the 
 "people of England" at his back, and none but a few 
 malcontents and dreamers to deal with. With all his 
 shrewdness he does not know the English clergy ; and I 
 cannot help fearing that if any of us approached him, he 
 would only think of putting us into difficulties, which it is 
 
 Z 
 
338 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 easy enough to do, both as to what we go for, and as to how 
 far we are agreed ; and would send us away, satisfied him- 
 seK that we are very unpractical people. 
 
 I think that we ought, if we can, to make up our minds 
 what to propose. There are two distinct dangers — (1) The 
 rooting out true Church doctrines and liberty by a policy of 
 persecution which has been going on for the last fifteen 
 years. (2) The gradual confusion of the limits of civil and 
 spiritual authority by the way in which courts have been 
 constituted, and have acted in recent judicial arrangements 
 and proceedings. The first is the most crying and immediate 
 danger, but I don't think it is the most formidable. 
 
 I am content myself to leave the Privy Council where 
 it is, so that it is purely a secular court, deciding Church 
 caiises only as it decided the Guibert case from Canada. But 
 we want a spiritual court of appeal besides, on doctrine and 
 discipline, and I don't see what we can have but one of 
 Bishops, either representative or as a body, according to 
 Liddon's^ proposal. Of course any one can see the risk. 
 But what else can we propose on principle ? And an appeal 
 from it can only lie either to the Synod of the Church of 
 
 England or to 1 the day when there shall be a free 
 
 council. 
 
 At any rate I should be willing to take this as my pro- 
 posal ; and further, that the lower courts, arches, etc., should 
 be formally and avowedly courts acting in the name and by 
 the delegation of the spiritual authorities. I think the mere 
 discussion of such suggestions would at least help to arrest 
 that increasing confusion between Parliamentary and Church 
 authority which is gaining ground. 
 
 ^ See Preface to Liddon's Thoughts on Present Church Troubles. 
 
"I ST. PAUL'S 339 
 
 But, first of all, unless the Bishops will be reasonable and 
 stop this deliberate policy of hunting us out, it is no good to 
 talk of anything else. If they will be reasonable, then it 
 will be time to call upon a good many people to remember 
 what a bishop's authority is. But the distrust of them is so 
 great that every one is afraid of committing himself to any 
 understanding about submission to their authority or advice. 
 I am glad to see that Dean Lake has ventilated the perilous 
 question of touching the Public Worship Regulation Act,i 
 though I can hardly hope that either that or the Privy 
 Council judgments will easily be reformed. Things are in- 
 such a ticklish state politically that I doubt whether Glad- 
 stone would get Parliament to look af things fairly. 
 
 But I hope that some of our friends will measure their 
 words and not say rash things. There is time on our side, 
 and growing Church feeling and power. We must not throw 
 away our chances. 
 
 I agree with you that we cannot go on for ever resisting 
 the courts, whatever they may be. — Yours very faithfully, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Deanekt, St. Paul's, 2Sth December 1880. 
 
 My dear Mr. Carter — I am very glad that you are 
 going to see the Archbishop. It is very good of you to go. 
 
 The pressing thing is to get some peace and toleration — 
 toleration, not precarious and depending on people's tempers, 
 but acknowledged as wise, if not as just, by the Bishops. 
 
 But I think he ought to be made to see that the Public 
 Worship Act and its consequences have not left things as 
 
 ' lu a letter to the Times. See Guardian, 29th December 1880. 
 
340 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 ttey were, and that he ought, in the interests of the hody 
 of which he is the Primate, to do something to make clear 
 the spiritual authority of the Church. We don't want to 
 affront Parliament or judges ; and if the Bishops would only 
 sympathise with us, and condescend to learn as we have to 
 learn, I, for one, should be content to submit to their rulings. 
 But we cannot go on letting the world think that we acquiesce 
 in the idea that we are merely an "Act of Parliament" 
 Church. 
 
 It is curious, the most insulting letters which my produc- 
 tion has brought me are from Roman Catholics, gnashing 
 their teeth at our claim to be a real spiritual body. 
 
 I saw a letter of the Archbishop's to Lake, expressing full 
 approval of Lake's letter. This is hopeful. But we must 
 be cautious. If he is in earnest, the Convocation resolutions 
 may be a fair basis ; but they will probably want reconsider- 
 ing in some points.^ — Yours very faithfully, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 The " production " of whicli the previous letter speaks 
 was a letter to the Times, entitled "The Established 
 Church." The letter itself runs as follows : — 
 
 To THE Editor of the Times. 
 
 16th December 1880. 
 Sir — The " short and easy method " of dealing with the 
 Ritualists — I mean in argument — is, that English clergymen 
 are ministers of an Established Church, and are, therefore, as 
 much bound to submit to all that Parliament orders as any 
 other public functionaries — to submit or to resign ; and by 
 an Established Church, as used in this argument, is some- 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 341 
 
 times expressly signified in words, but always implied, 
 whether people see what they mean or not, a State Church, 
 deriving all its rights, duties, and powers from Parliament; 
 for unless this were so, the inference would not hold. If the 
 Church be supposed to have an existence and powers of its 
 own, besides what the State gives it, — and however closely 
 joined with the State, to be something which the State, 
 though it may claim to regulate, can neither create nor 
 destroy, — then the debate is open whether the conditions of 
 union and co-opefation have been observed on either side. 
 Whether the Ritualist contention, in particular, is right or 
 wrong is another matter. 
 
 If this proposition is true, that an Established Church is 
 what Parliament makes it, or allows it to be, and nothing 
 more, then everything easily follows. People may well ex- 
 press surprise at clergymen pleading conscience for disobey- 
 ing courts of justice. " Mutinous ecclesiastics " and " bad 
 citizens " are too light terms of condemnation for those who 
 defy the law of England, and throw all the social order into 
 confusion which they are especially sworn and paid to 
 maintain. 
 
 But if this is a true account of the Church of England, 
 and the old constitutional theory of a union of Church and 
 State, recognised as well as violated in a thousand trans- 
 actions of our history, be a figment, then other consequences 
 too will follow. It will follow that all that is found in the 
 books of our greatest masters of religious teaching, in all 
 Churches and sects, about the nature of the Christian Church, 
 is ranting nonsense. It will follow that the Ritualists are 
 indeed rebels, perhaps more inexcusable than any who are 
 troubling the Queen's peace in Ireland. But it will also 
 follow that the English Church is not what religious men of 
 
342 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 all schools, Oh-urchmeii and Nonconformists, believe a Church 
 to be. It will follow, that such a claim as Mr. Voysey — for 
 whose honesty and courage I have a high respect — expresses 
 in the subjoined advertisement, is a legitimate one : — " The 
 Eev. Charles Voysey, speaking for himself, and in no way 
 pledging other members of the Theistic Church, desires to 
 make it known that he retains his Holy Orders in the Church 
 of England, and personally upholds the present relations 
 between the Church and State, as by law established. He 
 approves only some of the doctrines of the Church, which, 
 having been ratified by Parliament, can by Parliament be 
 annulled, and he looks forward to a second Reformation by 
 which the Church of England may be made truly national" 
 I think it wiU follow that three-fourths of the English clergy, 
 if they are the men I take them to be, will say that such a 
 State Church was not the Church which they believed them- 
 selves to be serving and defending, or a Church which it- 
 would be possible for them to accept. — Your obedient servant, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 But the public conscience could not for an indefinite 
 time stand the sight of hard-working and exemplary 
 clergymen imprisoned for refusing to submit to a court 
 whose jurisdiction they felt bound to deny, whilst 
 iiregularity in directions opposite to that in which they 
 were said to have strayed went notoriously unpunished, 
 and even unrebuked. Before long such one-sided rigour 
 provoked a reaction of sympathy; and the more hopeful 
 tone which may be detected in the Dean's letter to the 
 Bishop of Salisbury, — who in a pastoral letter to his 
 diocese, had urged " as the first and greatest need " for 
 the moment, the exercise of a " larger and larger-hearted 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 343 
 
 tolerance," — suggests that there were already signs of 
 a turn in the tide of misunderstanding and condem- 
 nation : — 
 
 To THE Bishop of Salisbury. 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, 13th January 1881. 
 
 My dear Uncle George — May I send you my most 
 hearty thanks for your admirable letter. Oh ! if all our 
 Bishops would deal with things as wisely and reasonably, 
 we should not be in the trouble in which we find ourselves. 
 It is a brave and true statement. Is it not worth while 
 sending it to the Times ? It will be mocked at, but it will 
 be read by people who do not see the Gua/rd-ian. 
 
 The Archbishop has received our memorial very kindly, 
 referring us to his letter to Mr. Wilkinson, and promising to 
 bring the subject of the Memorial before the Bishops. He 
 has been very friendly in his communications with me and 
 other people. He had Mr. Carter down at Addington, and 
 they got on together delightfully. These troubles will not 
 have been in vain if they impress on us all the necessity of 
 trust in one another, patience and charitable desire to under- 
 stand one another ; if they help to turn the hearts of the 
 fathers to the children, and the children to the fathers. 
 Meanwhile, the immediate danger is great on all sides, and 
 the remedies more easy to wish for than to find. — Ever yours 
 aflfectionately, R. W. 0. 
 
 To THE Rev. W. J. Copeland. 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, SOth January 1881. 
 My dear Copeland — Many thanks for your letter. It 
 has been a worrying and anxious winter. One never knows 
 how ticklish things are ; but they are ticklish. I have been 
 
344 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 surprised at the extent to which, indignation and alarm have 
 penetrated among the clergy. I am qaite sure that if any 
 man with a name had put forth a strong declaration, under- 
 taking under no circumstances to recognise Lord Penzance 
 or the rulings of the Privy Council, it would at once have 
 attracted more, and more enthusiastic signatures than our 
 paper. 1 There was a time three weeks ago when lifting a 
 finger would almost have been a signal for revolt. People 
 sign our paper for want of something stronger. At least 
 that is my own impression. Our paper has averted that : 
 whether we have been wise I don't know. I don't suppose 
 we shall have much thanks for it. And what is worse, I 
 don't see what is to come of it. I suppose that we shall 
 have some reform of Convocation to stop our mouths. I 
 should never be surprised if there was some sort of Royal 
 Commission ; and probably no Bishop just now wiU be 
 forward to employ Lord Penzance, except to scold and preach 
 to drunken parsons. But the courts will remain intact for 
 the present ; and probably the Archbishop's alarm will pass 
 away as time goes on. He will try to keep things quiet, 
 but no reform of the courts whUe he and Thomson are in 
 office. "We shall very likely have the cry of "the Mass" 
 sprung on us, and that will cause a diversion, like the " Con- 
 fessional" some years ago. 
 
 I have written something in the Nineteenth Century for 
 February, and I have sent you a reprint of an old Ohristian 
 Remembrancer article.^ — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. G. 
 
 ' An Address, signed ty more than 2000 clergy, to the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, urging "toleration and forbearance in dealing with 
 questions of ritual." 
 
 ^ The Relation between Ghv/rch and State, reprinted from the 
 Clvnstian Semenibrancer, 1850. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 345 
 
 The Dean's practical experience as a parish priest 
 comes out in the following letter of criticism on Mr. 
 Albert Grey's Church Boards Bill of 1881 :— 
 
 To G. W. Russell, Esq., M.P. 
 
 Deanbet, St. Paul's, 2nd AprillSSl. 
 
 My dbae Sir — I am very much obliged to you for the 
 copy of the Church Boards Bill. 
 
 It certainly ought to he quite well understood that this 
 is not a small matter. Section 10 of the bill, if it becomes 
 law, would make a revolution in the Church hardly less 
 than those made in the time of the Commonwealth. And 
 such a change, if Parliament thinks fit to make it, ought not, 
 I think, to be made in the disguise of an innocent little bill 
 for controlling the despotism of incumbents, and making 
 things work better in parishes. 
 
 (1) It transfers the spiritual and religious work of the 
 incumbent, for which he is responsible to the Bishop and to 
 the law of " this Church and Realm," to a new body. There 
 is nothing, except perhaps the language of sermons, which is 
 not covered by the words " management of any matter of an 
 ecclesiastical nature, affecting the general interests of the 
 parish, which has heretofore been managed by the incum- 
 bent" ; e.g. the interpretation of the Prayer-Book. 
 
 (2) It transfers to the same body the rights and duties 
 belonging to the churchwardens, or the incumbent and 
 churchwardens together. 
 
 (3) And it transfers these matters, including so much of 
 the deepest religious interest, matters belonging to the inner 
 religious sphere of the Church, matters of duty and conscience, 
 on which, as all the world sees, convictions and feelings are 
 
346 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS • pabt 
 
 so strong among serious Church people, to whom ? Not to 
 the communicant members of the Church — ^not to the 
 ordinary congregations — but to a body which does not 
 profess to be even Christian ; a body erected by ratepayers 
 or parish voters. It creates the Presbyterian organisation in 
 every parish, minus the requirement that the lay elders 
 should be either Churchmen or Christians. 
 
 I am certainly not afraid of lay influence, counsel, or 
 agency in a parish. I do not much mind, what nevertheless 
 is often as practically mischievous as it is in principle ano- 
 malous, the "people's churchwarden " being a Nonconformist. 
 I think any wise clergyman in a large parish would try and 
 gather round him a body of lay councillors, co-operating with 
 and advising him. But to transfer ecclesiastical, and there- 
 fore, in part at least, religious affairs to the hands of pro- 
 fessedly non-Christian bodies, to say nothing of ignorance or 
 avowed and perhaps conscientious hostility to the Church, 
 would be, on the part of Churchmen, to commit suicide — to 
 throw up the claim of the Churchy to be able to teach the 
 people for whom churches were built and parishes formed. 
 
 I say nothing of the practical mischiefs which, it seems 
 obvious, are likely to follow. 
 
 We have heard a good deal lately of the dangers of Con- 
 gregationalism. This, of course, would double the tend- 
 ency by removing the Bishop to a further distance from 
 influence on what goes on in a parish. If incumbents have 
 been troublesome to deal with, a Church Board would be 
 infinitely more so ; its little finger would be thicker than the 
 parson's loins. 
 
 Unless both incumbent and Board were very wise people, 
 they would almost inevitably fall into habits of jealousy and 
 antagonism. The incumbent would feel that he had masters 
 
HI ST. PAUL'S 347 
 
 put over him, and the Board would be watching for encroach- 
 ments to resist or repress. 
 
 Then when you think of the ordinary composition of 
 large parishes, the opportunity would be irresistible to 
 persons hostile either to the Church or the incumbent to 
 interfere to his annoyance, and possibly to his hindrance : 
 to appeal to the large class of those who care nothing about 
 religion for an exercise of power over things that others do 
 care for. 
 
 Add to this the fluctuating nature of this body to whom 
 so much is entrusted ; it is making the religious customs 
 and observances of a parish depend on the accidents of an 
 Easter vestry. 
 
 These alone are serious objections, but my real objection 
 is much more serious. Churchmen believe the Church to 
 be a religious society as much so as a Congregational body, as 
 much so as the Eoman Catholic body. It has also become 
 in England an Established Church ; but it has not therefore 
 ceased to be a religious society, with principles and laws of 
 its own. We have inherited an anomalous state of things, 
 in which the logical inconsistencies show the traces of our 
 keen and repeated struggles ; but, like other Englishmen, 
 we put up with many anomalies which have come down 
 to us. 
 
 But this bill goes on the principle — 
 
 (1) That ratepayers, whatever their creed, are the persons 
 entitled by the law to settle what (subject to law) shall 
 be the administration of the Church services in each parish, 
 in all the numberless details which make the difference 
 between a good and bad parish. And (2) that henceforth 
 their authority is to override that of the incumbent, and be 
 its substitute. If I know anything of the English clergy. 
 
348 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 they will not submit to this ; because they will say, and say 
 truly, that it is ostentatiously placing Church administration 
 in the wrong hands, and not merely in lay hands, hut in 
 non-Christian hands. No one would seriously make such a 
 proposal to any professedly religious body in existence. And 
 if it is made by Parliament to the English clergy, and the 
 large body of lay people who agree with them, it can have, 
 I think, but one result. It would be impossible for them 
 to accept it. 
 
 I have put down a few things that occurred to me on 
 reading the bill, and I am very grateful to you for allowing 
 me to say so much to you. I shall be at home all next 
 week if you should have anything about which you may 
 wish to ask me. — Yours faithfully, E. W. Ch0Kch. 
 
 To Lord Blachford. 
 
 Deaneiit, St. Paul's, Sth April 1881. 
 Mt dear BiiAOHFORD — ^I dined with Gladstone yesterday, 
 and I am bound to contradict the suggestion that, outwardly, 
 he shows the smallest sign of impaired strength. He had 
 been talking on Monday about the Budget, had sat up that 
 night till one or two, had been busy all day, and in the 
 House at question time, and till it was counted out ; but 
 there he was at dinner, as full of talk on every subject, trade, 
 agricultural depression, down to handwriting, and the com- 
 parison of quills and steel pens, with all the old eagerness 
 and vigour. There were Duke of Argyll, Bright, Evelyn 
 Ashley, Andrew Clark — just a scratch party picked up in 
 the House ; but of course these were lively gentlemen, and 
 Gladstone was the liveliest. He is not going to drop just 
 yet, whatever else he may do, and whatever the Pcdl Mall 
 may think of his " tired face." 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 349 
 
 1th April 1881. 
 
 Many thanks for your news about the Commission,! which, 
 except in one point, was news to me. 
 
 I have asked to be excused. I cannot stand these long 
 sittings — they kill me. The disagreeable alternative is that 
 I shall probably have, in my old age, to be once more 
 examined. But I prefer the sharp agony of that (and I would 
 rather have a lot of teeth out) to the endless sitting. And 
 I could do no good either. I hope something may come of 
 it with all my heart. . . . 
 
 I forgot to tell you of Gladstone's enthusiastic eulogy of 
 the QvMrdmn to Bright, Evelyn Ashley, and Agnew the 
 picture dealer, who had only faintly heard of it. It was, 
 he said, far the best weekly account of news to be found, in 
 selection and arrangement. It was this point which he 
 dwelt upon. A person reading it could, except for im- 
 mediate use, quite dispense with the daily papers. The 
 news department was quite admirable. — Ever yours affec- 
 tionately, R. W. C. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, 26* April 1881. 
 My dear Blachford — Certainly I hardly expected such 
 an outburst of allegiance to Lord Beaconsfleld.^ I remember 
 the first thing that ever made me aware that he had popu- 
 larity out of his party was the cheering, not very great, but 
 still very distinct, as he came out of St. Paul's on the day 
 of Thanksgiving for the Prince of Wales. Of course he was 
 then in opposition, but there was a contrast between his 
 
 ^ A Royal Commission appointed to inqnire into the Constitution 
 and Working of Ecclesiastical Courts. 
 
 '^ Lord Beaoonsiield's death had taken place the 19th April 1881. 
 
350 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS iabt 
 
 reception and Gladstone's, which was not at all warm, if I 
 remember. Of course this was in the City ; but I have 
 always thought of it as the beginning of his rise in popular 
 favour. To-day everything shows as much mourning as it 
 can, public buildings and the police ship in the river with 
 flags half mast, and the blinds of the clubs drawn down ; and 
 the St. Jojrmis Gazette exultant at the amount of enthusiastic 
 feeling " which even his warmest admirers did not expect." 
 It is an uncomfortable sign of what he has done to enchant 
 and mystify the political morality of the country, at least 
 in the south. I suppose there was something tender about 
 him, as the correspondent in to-day's Times makes out ; and 
 one feels staggered at finding the apparent affection so great 
 I feel as, I suppose, some good Protestants feel puzzled 
 about Newman's popularity. 
 
 . . . But it is all very wonderful. And there is poor 
 Gladstone with his terrible Irish Land Bill, and colleagues 
 who cannot speak for him, and apparently making blunders 
 himself. All the world expected him to say a few words 
 about Dizzy last night, which was a natural occasion, and he 
 need not have said much. Now, he puts off a fortnight, 
 when he must make a studied panegyric, and, meanwhile, 
 gets the credit of an intentional slight yesterday. I am 
 afraid hard times are in store for him. . . . — Yours affec- 
 tionately, R. W. C. 
 
 The, news of Dean Stanley's death, in July 1881, 
 reached the Dean while he was on a yachting cruise 
 in the Irish Channel. "Stanley's death is a great 
 shock," he wrote to his son; "he did not seem like a 
 man to die early — though after all he was sixty-six; 
 but he seemed so young and fresh. It is another man 
 
HI ST. PAUL'S 351 
 
 gone of my own generation. ... I cannot think who 
 will go to Westminster. . . . But it will not be Stanley, 
 with his faults and his excellences." In a letter written 
 after his return from the funeral in Westminster Abbey, 
 the Dean enters more fully upon the same subject : — 
 
 To THE Warden of Kbble. 
 
 Yacht Sibyl, Poktland Roads, Zlst July 1881. 
 
 My dear Warden — Your letter found us rocking and 
 rolling here, with, a half gale from the south-west, well 
 sheltered, but with aU pendulous things gently swaying and 
 making one sleepy. We have had various fortunes from 
 Holyhead, but in spite of some evil hours to some of us we 
 have been very happy ; and most of us are looking forward 
 with regret to our parting with the Sibyl and her rough 
 company. 
 
 You have asked me a hard thing. Stanley was a man of 
 my own generation, and he was always very kind to me in 
 spite of our very opposite sides. I think his generosity 
 came out to me ; for, of course, he must have utterly disliked 
 both the company I kept and my general line. And this was 
 a bar to any very free intercourse ; but up to a certain point 
 he was ever forward in his friendUness, and I was astonished 
 the other dajy at the heap of small characteristic notes of his 
 which have collected in my boxes and bundles. And 
 Stanley, when disposed to be friendly, was very delightful 
 and attractive. And I think that what made him so was 
 not his brilliancy and resource and knowledge, but the sense 
 that he was sincerely longing to be in sympathy with every 
 one for whom he could feel respect. It was the basis of a 
 very grand character ; but Stanley had intellectual defects. 
 
352 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 like his physical defects as to music, or smell, or colour, or 
 capacity for mathematical ideas, -vrhich crippled his capacity 
 for the sympathy he wished to spread all round him. One 
 of these defects is indicated in what his critics say of his 
 aversion, to metaphysics and dogmatic statements. They 
 were to his mind like the glass which the fly walks on and 
 cannot penetrate : when he came to them his mind " would 
 not bite." Another defect seemed to me always his inca- 
 pacity for the spiritual and unearthly side of religion ; the 
 side which is so strong in the people whom he opposed, 
 Newman and Kehle, and, in a lower way, the Evangelicals ; 
 the elevations and aspiration after Divine affections, and 
 longings after God, which, whether genuine or alloyed, are 
 above the historic and dramatic plane which was so con- 
 genial to him. These were two enormous disc[ualifications 
 to a religious teacher ; and there were others. Among 
 them a certain freely indulged contempt for what he did not 
 like, and a disposition to hunt down and find faults where 
 he did not love people, especially where he did not think 
 them quite true, as in the case of Newman and S. Wilher- 
 force. 
 
 ... If his had been a deeper mind, seeing below and 
 through the history which so fascinated him, he would have 
 been a High Churchman, or, it may be, a Roman Catholic. 
 And, indeed, if he had chanced to live before instead of 
 after the Oxford Movement, he would have been in advance 
 of his time in warmth and sympathy for the party, and 
 have been reckoned, like Scott and Wordsworth, as a fore- 
 runner of the great religious revival. But coming after it, 
 and seeing the vast prominence of its theological over its 
 poetical and historical side, he was repelled from it ; and 
 seeing further, that it was likely to grow and become 
 
"I ST. PAUL'S 353 
 
 powerful, his repulsion developed into systematic opposition 
 and hostility. But with all his faults, I feel it a great 
 sorrow to have had him all my life ranged on the opposite 
 sicle, always ranged against the people and the things which 
 I most cared for. For if he did not understand the spiritual 
 side of religion he did thoroughly understand the greatness 
 and the breadth of the moral side of it ; the value of the 
 great virtues, justice, veracity, courage, and their essential 
 connection with the Christian type of character. He was a 
 very earnest preacher of religious morality, though he was 
 bund to some important parts of it, and was driven by his 
 religious partizanship to exaggerate some other parts — as in 
 his grotesque and vehement efforts to claim admiration for 
 the eighteenth-century type of religion, and indignation at 
 criticisms upon it. 
 
 I think Vaughan's picture is true as far as it goes, but it 
 does not take in the great faults and gaps in the intellectual 
 and religious character, the conspicuous blanks and incapa- 
 cities which marred it, and which, I should think, he must 
 be conscious of, though it was not the time to dwell on 
 them ; and of course Vaughan sympathised with a public 
 line which you and I think a mischievous one. It seems to 
 me that his influence was a very mixed one, depressing as 
 well as elevating, raising the standard of religious ideas and 
 work, and also confusing and thwarting very much in detail ; 
 and it is difficult just yet to estimate fairly how much he 
 told in each opposite direction. I hardly remember any one 
 whom it was so easy both to praise truly and condemn truly, 
 according to the side of him you looked at. 
 
 Well, I have rambled, but I am writing in the yacht 
 saloon, with much talk round me. . . . — Ever yours, 
 
 E. W. Chukch, 
 
 2 A 
 
354 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paei 
 
 To Dr. Asa Gkay. 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, 16tk December 1881. 
 
 Mt dear Friend — Thank you for your tidings of your 
 safe arrival. Considering what we have heard of the weather 
 in the Atlantic I am glad that you went when you did, and 
 that Mrs. Gray got through it so bravely. 
 
 I had Mr. Lowell's most kind invitation,^ and took some 
 time to think about it, and see if it could be managed 
 for me to accept it. But I could not, without great 
 danger of its ending in a fiasco. I am busy and rather 
 worried just now. Our whole cathedral constitution is 
 going under the harrow of a Commission, which wants to 
 improve cathedrals but does not quite know how, and which 
 therefore may make some great mistakes. Then there is 
 another Commission, on which I have to give evidence, 
 about nothing less than the fundamental relations of Church 
 and State, as established at the Reformation and modified by 
 subsequent events. It is a ticklish business. Probably it 
 will end in nothing. But circumstances might make it 
 come to a great deal ; and it gives us something to think and 
 to read about. Then I have to preach as select preacher at 
 Oxford, which also gives me something to do. So I cannot 
 quite reckon on my time, and do not fall easily into the 
 mood of preparing lectures fit for your audience, and worth 
 going across to you to deliver. But I am deeply sensible of 
 the kindness of the invitation and of the great honour 
 offered me. Love from all to Mrs. Gray. — Yours affec- 
 tionately, R. W. Church. 
 
 During his yearly holiday in the spring of 1882, the 
 
 Dean made his way for the first time to Eome. 
 
 ^ An invitation to give a course of Lowell Lectures at Cambridge, 
 Massachusetts, 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 355 
 
 To Lord Blachford. 
 
 Hotel Quimnal, Rome, llih April 1882. 
 
 Mr DEAR Blaohfoed — ... It is hopeless to talk about 
 Rome. My inclination was not strong to come here, and 
 when I got here, and it was before my eyes in all its rugged 
 picturesqiieness, all my feeling was one almost of hatred to 
 the place. It seemed such a mixture of all incompatible 
 things — ruins and magniiicence, waste and civilisation, 
 tumbledown squalidness and untidiness, and stateliness and 
 grandeur, such as one has never seen elsewhere ; an anti- 
 religious world and an ostentatiously religious world, really 
 as worldly, and also an undeniably magnificent organisation 
 of high religion quite unique. It was a real worry and 
 vexation to have it all forced on one's thoughts and sight at 
 every step, in every view one had, and every inscription or 
 name that came across one. I can only say that my feeling 
 the first day was of hatred such as I never felt to London or 
 Paris. I had the feeling that it is the one city in the world, 
 besides Jerusalem, on which we know that God's eye is fixed, 
 and that He has some purpose or other about it — one can 
 hardly teU whether of_ good or evil. A good deal of His 
 purpose is visible — and what of the rest? I cannot tell 
 you how this kind of uncertainty about what the real 
 meaning of the whole thing was tormented and vexed me. 
 
 Well, one gets accustomed to things, and I am more at 
 home ; but I never felt so strange to any place I was ever 
 in. My first stroU was to the Pincian, where we had a fine 
 afternoon, a brass military band, and troops of young semin- 
 arists with all sorts of sashes — green, red, violet — taking the 
 air. Our first visit was to the Sistine, the Stanze, and the 
 Loggie. The Sistine is oppressive ; the ceiling of course 
 
356 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 wonderful when you can see it. The Loggie are charming ; 
 but the three Stanze (Incendio, Segnatura, and Eliodoro) 
 seem to me the perfection of all that painting can do. 
 Everything, principal and accessory, walls and ceilings 
 and pavement, all make these three rooms things which I 
 never expected to see. We have been there twice : St. 
 Peter's I have just seen, and as yet with a certaiu dis- 
 appointment : S. Paolo fuore le Mura with great wonder 
 and admiration, though it is but the new and not the old. 
 Still the new work is so grand and good. S. Maria Maggiore 
 is very fine : St. John Lateran an utter disappointment, it 
 is so horribly modernised — and they are at work at worse 
 mischief stiU. — ^but most wonderful in its desolate situation. 
 S. Clemente we have just seen, but not to advantage. — ^Ever 
 yours affectionately, R. W. 0. 
 
 Oh, how I wish you were here — though probably you 
 don't. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Bomb, 2nd May 1882. 
 My dear Blachpord — We have now been in Eome a 
 week. It has been fine weather, and only very hot in the 
 middle of the day, and in the sun. It is a wonderful place. 
 I don'fr care much about the ruins, though they are awful in 
 their magnitude. But these old churches, with their old 
 columns and pavements, are most delightful I walked out 
 this morning at seven to S. Agnese in the Via Nomentana. 
 It was deliciously cool and soft, scents from acacias and 
 roses constantly coming in whiffs from the gardens or wayside 
 alleys, and the blue hills rising out of a light mist that hung 
 over the Oampagna. And there were the larks and nightin- 
 gales singing all the way. Do you know the church ? The 
 
1" ST. PAUL'S 357 
 
 foundation of it goes up to Constantine and Constantine'a 
 daughter Constantia, with a beautiful fifth or sixth century 
 mosaic in the east apse, and columns, the spoils of the 
 heathen, in two orders, one the main row of columns, and 
 above them a gallery with lighter ones ; but both beautiful. 
 You go down to it by a kind of slope ; and on each side of 
 the wall are inscriptions, mostly Christian, from the neigh- 
 bouring catacombs. There were three persons in church, 
 where a mass was going on (I must say very reverently) — 
 myself and two contadini. In the midst of it entered two 
 more women with a huge shepherd's dog, which walked 
 about the church with the utmost quietness and gravity, 
 looking into aU the corners just as if he was a tourist. It 
 was all 60 inexpressibly odd — the morning freshness and 
 solitude, the charm of the place, and this queer 'intruder of 
 whom no one took any notice. 
 
 We went the other day to Tre Fontane, where the 
 Trappists declare that they have conquered malaria by 
 planting eucalyptus, and they are allowed on this ground to 
 remain by the Government, which recognises them as a 
 "Socidt6 Agricole Civile." I am bringing you some 
 eucalyptus seeds to experiment upon. — Oh, the museums, 
 and the portrait busts of emperors, and statues such as I 
 never saw before, and all the infinite variety of detail which 
 seems to bring early Rome, both imperial and Christian, so 
 very close to one ! . . . — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. C. 
 
 But even amid the wonders of Rome, the Dean's 
 thoughts were constantly recurring to the anxieties and 
 troubles of the time in Ireland. "Eome is indeed 
 wonderful," he writes to the "Warden of Keble — 
 
358 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 "more wonderful than I was prepared for. I did 
 not expect to like it, and I don't like it yet. But 
 every step one takes and every sight one sees, forces 
 upon one, in spite of ancient desolations and modem 
 prettinesses, what an awful place one is in. But even 
 here," he adds, with a foreboding only too quickly and 
 surely to be justified, "Ireland haunts me day and 
 night." 
 
 A week later came the news of the murder of Lord 
 Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Bourke in the Phoenix 
 Park, Dublin. 
 
 To THE Warden of Keble. 
 
 Pekusia, Uh May 1882. 
 
 My dbab TaIiBOT — I must write a line with my wife's. 
 What a horrible light on Irish caving in, and on Forster's 
 warnings ! It is too dreadful to think of. Of coiirse, we 
 have only the telegrams as given in Italian newspapers, 
 without even their comments. But I shudder to think of aU 
 that this Irish answer to Gladstone's attempt to concUiate 
 will bring forth, both in Ireland and in England. I have 
 tried hard to believe that he has been right. But it seems 
 to me that he is blind to Irish insolence and Irish keen 
 sense of their winning game. How can he or any one forget 
 Parnell's words, quoted by Gibson ; and if so, what is the 
 good of an apparent truce ? 
 
 I wish you could say to all your dear people, how this 
 has made us think of them all night long since we heard it. 
 It has come like a black cloud on our bright days here. 
 We are going to Assisi to-day. There was truth in St 
 Francis' view of the world, though not the whole truth. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 359 
 
 We stay here till over Wednesday, then to Siena, getting to 
 Florence on Saturday. If you could give us a line about 
 how they all are, and what is the outlook, I should be 
 grateful. — Ever yours affectionately, R. W. 0. 
 
 To Canon Chdeoh, 
 
 Flobbnoe, nth May 1882. 
 
 Dear Chaeles — We have had a very pleasant time here. 
 The weather has been most kind, neither too hot nor too 
 cold, nor monotonously bright, and Florence certainly has 
 looked like a city for holidays, as Charles V. said. There is 
 something about it which is to me more attractive than any 
 of the great places where we have been — Genoa, Perugia, 
 Siena, Rome. It is certainly most beautiful. I suppose the 
 harmony of everything, the characteristic buildings, the 
 river, the hills round about, and the unconscious association 
 with all the wonderful works of art and beauty in it, give 
 it this, to me, unique character. There is nothing rude, 
 nothing coarse, nothing obtrusively ruinous or decayed. All 
 is venerable, yet all seems fresh. It is hard work to see all 
 that it has to show us. The UfBzi are tremendous, merely 
 as a walk. Then the churches, S. Maria Novella, S. Croce, 
 S. Marco, need hours of looking, if one is really to enjoy 
 their wall-painting. 
 
 I have been round this afternoon to look at the Villa 
 Torregiani, and the Casa Annalena.i The latter appears to 
 have gone back to its original destination, and is become 
 once more a religious house for ladies. It surprised me by 
 looking so low. I thought there had been a higher storey, 
 
 ' The Dean's early hSme in Florence. 
 
360 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 besides the mezzanino and first floor. But it must be a very 
 nice bouse. 
 
 ... It is almost uncomfortable to be having such 
 pleasure while such miseries and dangers are going on at 
 home. But one of the things which these dreadful horrors 
 have brought out is, that English people are equal, at least 
 morally, to their position. No Eoman or Florentine lady 
 ever said a more heroic thing, than what Lady Frederick 
 Cavendish said to Gladstone the first time she saw him after 
 the news had come : " Uncle William, you did right to send 
 him to Ireland." We have heard a good deal about her and 
 her people from Talbot and Liddon. I wish I could think 
 that her prayer is likely to come to pass — that his death 
 may help to bring peace to Ireland. It is plain that the 
 Parnell and Dillon set are at the mercy of the Irreconcilables, 
 more extreme and thorough-going than even they, and who 
 will destroy them if they show the slightest sign of relenting, 
 or accepting any terms from England, but unconditional 
 surrender. Say what they will, Parnell and his friends 
 have brought about the state of temper which makes Ireland 
 ungovernable, and they and we must accept the fact Good- 
 bye — ^love to all. — Ever yours affectionately, E. W. C. 
 
 To THE Warden of Keels 
 
 Dbaneey, St. Paul's, 26th August 1882. 
 My dear Warden — Thank you so much for writing, 
 and for letting us see that most interesting bit about Ireland. 
 The change of manner between the older and newer genera- 
 tion is very significant ; and also the deepened nationalism 
 produced by increased schooling. The more I think of it 
 the more hopeless the prospect becomes. I cannot see how 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 361 
 
 we can ever reconcile them, or how we can possibly let them - 
 go. But I am afraid I can see easily how, not under very 
 impossible circumstaiLces, their blind hatred may bring about 
 something which wUl indeed be the vengeance of the years 
 that are past on England. It is the only part of our system 
 where the attempt to govern justly and reasonably seems to 
 fail. I should like very much to see the continuation of 
 your letters. I have not read anything so instructive for a 
 long while. 
 
 We are stiU here, with the children so happy and making 
 us so happy, that if I were a Greek I should fear Nemesis. 
 They all thank you most heartily for your remembrance of 
 them, but are all astonished that you have not found out La 
 petite Fadette before. It is a favourite of old Whatley days 
 with them. I think Mr. Horner gave it them. 
 
 Freddy is not yet back. He went from Grindelwald to 
 Zermatt, only to encounter the news of another terrible 
 accident — poor Mr. Qabbett and his two guides on the Dent 
 Blanche, which F. had come to Zermatt with Melchior 
 Anderegg to climb — the one peak he meant to allow himself. 
 Instead, h? had to help at the funeral of the Englishman 
 and the guides. All this has been a great shock to him. 
 Please remember us most kindly to your wife, and if it may 
 be, to Lady Frederick. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. C. 
 
 To THE Rev. George S. Barrett. 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, IZth October 1882. 
 My dear Mr. BarretT' — Thank you very much for 
 sending me your sermon.^ May I say that with the positive 
 
 ^ " The Influence of Dr. Pusey on the Keligious Faith and Life of 
 the Nation." 
 
362 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 side of it I heartily sympatliise ; that it is in the negative 
 side of it that I find myself in disagreement. Our points of 
 view are necessarily very different. But I gladly thank you 
 for the more than candour, the generous appreciation of men 
 once thought worthy to be insulted by every scoffer, to whom 
 I feel that I owe, as you do to Mr. Dale, the best of all that I 
 am, and almost my own soul also. And there is throughout 
 that respect for what you disagree with and condemn, and 
 that deep and genuine feeling of great unities, even under 
 our grave and important differences, which is the most 
 reassuring sign that really a time may be " within measur- 
 able distance" when even our most serious controversies, 
 even our great and apparently hopeless controversy with 
 Rome, may be carried on as if in the presence and under the 
 full knowledge and judgment of the Lord of truth and 
 charity. I do not expect that controversy wiU ever cease ; 
 but I do think that the time may be hoped for when a 
 controversialist will think it his first duty, at the cost of 
 losiug many effective weapons, to put himself as far as he 
 can in his opponent's position, and understand what he 
 understands, and feel what he feels. 
 
 Such a sermon as yours seems to me such a sign of 
 promise. — Yours very faithfully, R. W. Church. 
 
 The foregoing letter suggests the fitting place at 
 which to introduce the following personal recollections ^ 
 of the Dean, by Dr. Barrett, the President of the Con- 
 gregational Union in 1894. The friendship which had 
 grown up between the Dean and Dr. Barrett had won 
 much of its sincerity and freedom and its wide range of 
 
 ^ The recollections are, in part, reprinted, by the kind permission 
 of the Editor of the British WeeHy, from an article written by Dr. 
 Barrett in December 1890. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 363 
 
 sympathy from the frank acknowledgment on either 
 side of differences as well as of agreement. There are 
 words in recognition of this in the preceding letter, and 
 they are met by the touching words with which Dr. 
 Barrett concludes his recollections : — " Although," he 
 writes, " the Dean's ecclesiastical position was necessarily 
 far removed from that which Nonconformists occupy, 
 yet it may be permitted to a Nonconformist to lay tljis 
 poor wreath of reverence and affection on the grave of 
 one of the purest and saintliest men he has ever known." 
 The recollections themselves continue as follows : — 
 "My own acquaintance with the Dean began many 
 years ago at Zermatt, and I recall even at this distance 
 of time the delight he took in the ever-changing wonder 
 and glory of mountain and cloud and snow, and the 
 inexpressible elevation of character that marked all his 
 ordinary intercourse. Indeed, I think it was this latter 
 feature that most impressed one whenever I met him in 
 later years. He had some of the finest gifts of the 
 purely literary man ; he had a culture so large and rich 
 as to seem almost faultless in its perfection ; he had the 
 eye and the ear of the poet even if he had not the poet's 
 tongue; but it was none of these things which made the 
 deepest impression on those who knew him. It was 
 the rare elevation of his whole nature, the spiritual 
 atmosphere in which he lived, the far-off look that you 
 caught at times in his gaze, that told you his deepest 
 life was lived in God. He brought to all subjects he 
 touched the ripest and fullest knowledge, and he could 
 use, as his essays abundantly testify, the most delicate 
 
364 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 and penetrating criticism in literary discussion ; he 
 could disentangle as with a master's hand, and then 
 seize the threads of the great movements in European 
 history, alike in secular and ecclesiastical affairs ; but 
 there was something in him even rarer and more 
 precious than these great gifts. There was the per- 
 sonality of the man himself, his humbleness, his sweet- 
 ness, his devoutness — above all, the sense of the majesty 
 and mystery of G-od that brooded over his heart and life. 
 
 " Of his published works this is not the place to 
 speak. I content myself with saying that in the 
 opinion of no mean judges they wiU rank with the 
 finest literature of the Victorian era. The first reading 
 of Tlie Oifts of Civilisation, — perhaps the greatest and 
 most characteristic of the Dean's writings, — which were 
 lectures delivered in St. Paul's Cathedral, and of the 
 sermons prefixed to these lectures, which were preached 
 before the University of Oxford, has formed an era in 
 the intellectual life of many men ; and, some years ago, 
 one of the greatest- of living preachers amongst the 
 Congregationalists, and himseH one of the ablest theo- 
 logians of this age, told me there was one sermon in that 
 volume'he had already read through six times. 
 
 " Only once was it my privilege to hear the Dean 
 preach in St. Paul's. It was on a Whit Sunday, and 
 I recall even now the spare figure, almost insignificant 
 in its stature, standing in the pulpit ; the upward look, 
 then the quiet reading of the text, 'Grieve not the 
 Spirit,' and then the whole vast congregation subdued 
 into breathless attention, not by the spell of a great 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 365 
 
 orator, but by the wonderful spiritual power of the 
 man, as the first sentence of the sermon fell on their 
 ears — ' Grrieve not — pain not — pain not the Spirit of 
 God. — Then we may pain God.' I have more than once 
 ventured to suggest to the late Dean the publication of 
 a volume of sermons which should comprise some of 
 those which he had preached at St. Paul's, and as Select 
 Preacher at Oxford, and which as yet have had no more 
 enduring record than the columns of a newspaper.^ 
 
 ". . .In politics I believe the Dean was always a 
 Liberal, although he lived far enough removed from 
 the conflicts and littleness of party strife. He owed 
 his appointnient at St. Paul's to Mr. Gladstone, who, 
 on the death of Dean Mansel in 1871, offered the 
 Deanery of St. Paul's to Mr. Church, then the rector of 
 an obscure country parish in the south of England; 
 and he never lost his admiration for the intellectual and 
 moral greatness of Mr. Gladstone's character, although 
 he diverged from him on the question of Home Eule for 
 Ireland. One incident I may mention as an evidence of 
 the Dean's estimate of Mr. Gladstone. During Mr. 
 Gladstone's last tenure of office as Prime Minister a 
 clergyman, whose only opportunity of knowing Mr. 
 Gladstone had been through the not too trustworthy 
 descriptions of- hostile critics, happened to say in the 
 presence of the Dean that he believed Mr. Gladstone 
 
 ' " Since tlie death of the Dean this has been done in a Tolnme 
 entitled Cathedral and University Sermons; together with two 
 volumes of Village Sermons, remarkable as a revelation of the union 
 of profoundly spiritual thought with the utmost simplicity of ex- 
 pression." 
 
366 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 was a thoroughly insincere man. The Dean was sitting 
 in his chair when the remark was made, but he instantly 
 rose, his face even paler than it usually was, and he 
 said, evidently with the strongest suppression of per- 
 sonal feeling ; ' Insincere ! Sir, I tell you that to my 
 knowledge Mr. Gladstone goes from communion with 
 God to the great affairs of State.' It was high testimony 
 to be given to any man, but highest of all when we 
 remember who gave it." 
 
 The continuous series of letters begins again with 
 a characteristic letter to Dr. Gray, whose services to 
 botany, as after years of laborious industry they were 
 drawing to a close, roused in the Dean a sense of 
 admiring envy : — 
 
 To De. Asa Geat. 
 
 Deaneey, St. Paul's, Slst October 1882. 
 My deae Feiend — ... I shall be glad to hear that, at 
 last, the " Compositse " ^ have begun their march. But what 
 a thing to be envied, to have put them in due order, and 
 marshalled them as an army of your own. I should like to 
 have done one good hard long piece of work — I don't mean 
 like that, but something like that — have edited some great 
 book, or had to do with a Dictionary like Littrd's, or written 
 a treatise on history, as the French say, de longue haleim. 
 The pleasure of finishing is with me mainly confined to 
 finishing a longish sermon, or an article or essay, or small 
 book. But it makes me understand how you must feel 
 about your " Compositse." 
 
 1 See Letters of Dr. Asa Gray, vol. ii. p. 747. 
 
HI ST. PAUL'S 367 
 
 I was very sorry to miss Mr. Lowell on his last visit to 
 
 ■ London. He called when I was out, and when we went to 
 
 look for him two days after he had already left. I am very 
 
 sorry to hear of the sorrow which had come on him. I did 
 
 not know it when we heard of his heing in London. 
 
 We are in a lull just now. Egypt and Ireland both hung 
 up for the present, and Gladstone, of course, very strong. I 
 cannot help hoping that he has made some impression on 
 Ireland, though there are plenty of ugly symptoms, and the 
 ineradicable hatred is still there. But if ever courage, hard 
 work, and self-sacrificing love of justice deserved success, 
 Gladstone deserves to improve Ireland. To cure it is beyond 
 mortal power. 
 
 Give all our loves to Mrs. Gray. — ^Ever yours aifection- 
 ately, R. W. Chubch. 
 
 To THE Warden of Kbble. 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, ISth December 1882. 
 My dear Warden — ... I am particularly glad that 
 you met Blachford. He has been so much to me, and is so 
 much in himself, that I don't feel that things are complete if 
 my friends, who have come on the stage later, do not know 
 him. He was for much more than people know in the 
 original development of Newman's mind. We have not 
 always agreed, and probably do not qiiite now. But I never 
 knew 80 thorough a man : high in his own standard, and 
 true to friendship, even to the breaking point. . . . — Ever 
 yours affectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 The following letter, written upon the occasion of the 
 death of Archbishop Tait, and the appointment of the 
 
368 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS iaet 
 
 Bishop of Truro as his successor, carries with it its own 
 sufficient explanation : — 
 
 To De. Asa Gray. 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, Zlsi December 1882. 
 
 My dear Friend — I do not like to let this year go with- 
 out a line to you. We were so sorry to hear of your accident. 
 I hope it is doing well ; hut the interruption of work must 
 be a real trial. I don't knOw if other people know the odd 
 feeling which cornea across me after an accident of this kind 
 — that only the slightest difference of conditions would have 
 avoided. It seems so much harder than other trouhles, which 
 have come as it seems in ordinary course.—" If only I had 
 been there a minute before or a minute after. — If only the 
 thing had moved a little slower or a little faster," etc. etc. 
 To have got into a scrape by just a very little seems so 
 foolish, and also so unnecessary. — I should like to make a 
 collection of such irrational impulses of indignation against 
 things and oneself. 
 
 You see the newspapers have been taking liberties with 
 my name. Pormal offer there was none, and could not be ; 
 for I had already on another occasion told my mind to 
 Gladstone, and said that reasons of health, apart from any 
 other reasons, made it impossible for me to think of any- 
 thing, except a retirement altogether from public office. But 
 Gladstone was very kind, and people round him talked in a 
 way which accounts for the newspaper gossip. Benson ia, I 
 really believe, the best choice that could have been made ia 
 England. Everything that he has touched he has done well- 
 He is quiet, and he is enthusiastic, and he is conciliatory, 
 and he is firm. . . . But of one thing I am quite certain : 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 369 
 
 that never for hundreds of years has so much honest dis- 
 interested pains been taken to fill the Primacy — such inquiry 
 and trouble resolutely followed out to find the reaUy fittest 
 man, apart from every personal and political consideration, 
 as in this case. Of that I can bear witness. I hope it may 
 be rewarded by an administration of the great office, con- 
 ceived of and carried out in a higher spirit than any of us 
 have yet witnessed. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 E. W. Church. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Deanbrt, St. Paul's, Brd April 1883. 
 My dear Friend — ... I hope that you are quite set 
 up again with full use of your shoulder, in your great wrestle 
 with the " OompositSB.'' It is a wonderful family, almost as 
 wonderful in its grim rigour of general plan as the orchids 
 are in their boundless extravagance. I hope I may see the 
 face of some growing flowers in Italy or Switzerland this 
 year. I have seen none yet. I have entangled myseK in a 
 little job which I undertook with a light heart, and which 
 I do not relish as I go on. I promised to write a little book 
 about Bacon in the " Men of Letters " series, edited by J. 
 Morley. But writing such a book means writing not only 
 about his genius and his books, but about his life ; and the 
 more I read of Bacon, the man and his life, the less I like 
 him. James Spedding edited his letters, etc., with a running 
 commentary, in which he makes him out to be one of the 
 noblest and purest of men. I can only read in him one of 
 the poorest and most ungenerous of characters. But it is a 
 horrid thing to have to connect one's name with what will 
 be called blackening one of the greatest of the benefactors of 
 2b 
 
370 DEAN OHUEOH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 the race. And I don't know what to do, except to leave the 
 thing alone. And I am somewhat in tribulation about it. 
 
 We are not quite relieved from the dynamite scare. I 
 don't myself much fear it. But of course possibilities are 
 undeniable if people wiU only encounter risks. Happily the 
 dynamite people don't seem inclined for that. 
 
 Kindest remembrances to Mrs. Gray. — Ever yours affec- 
 tionately, R. W. Church. 
 
 The following spring found the Dean once more in 
 Italy, where each return seemed to waken a renewed 
 power of enjoyment, and an ever keener and more 
 penetrating sense of the beauty and wonder in all he 
 saw: — 
 
 To THE Warden of Keblb. 
 
 Florence, 25th May 1883. 
 My dear Warden — We are just back from a most delight- 
 ful three days of Dantesque and Fratesque topography. The 
 Casentino, you know, is the upper valley of the Arno, from its 
 source to where " turning up its nose " at Arezzo (Purg. xiv.) 
 it doubles back on itself round the great ridge of the Prato 
 Magno (Purg. v.), in a north-westerly direction, to Pontasieve 
 and Florence. The Casentino is a broad green valley, well 
 marked by its bounding mountains, like a Greek Lacedaemon 
 or Argolis,. from its head, the Falterona (Purg. xiv.), between 
 the Prato Magno and the Camaldoli range or Giogana, till 
 the enclosing ranges come together at the narrows where you 
 enter it, and the Arno goes out not far from Arezzo. Three 
 or four little towns perched on hiUs, with towers and some- 
 times walls (Bibbiena, Poppi, Pratovecchio, Stia), mark the 
 course of the river and give a distinct character to the valley 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 371 
 
 from whatever side you look at it. But the feature in the 
 view everywhere, in the outline of bounding mountains, is 
 the great hill of St. Francis, where he received the Stigmata 
 — ^Alvemia or La Vema as they call it here — the sort of 
 Tabor of the Franciscan legend, the " crudo sasso intra Tevere 
 ed Amo " (Par. xi.), which, with its strange form and stern 
 blackness, is in strange contrast with all the mountain outlines 
 round it. The Casentino was long fought for and coveted 
 by Florence, and at last won. Dante knew it well. He was 
 in the great battle of Oampaldino, under the walls of Poppi, 
 where the Guelfs overthrew the Ghibellines of Arezzo. He 
 has shown how he remembered it and all the region round 
 in Buonconti's story (Purg. v.), whose body was swept away 
 by the fierce Archiano torrent which comes down from the 
 " Eremo " of Camaldoli into the Amo, in the tempest which 
 followed the battle. Dante delighted in the " green hills and 
 cold brooks" (Inf. xxx.) as much as he hated its inhabitants 
 (Purg. xiv.) I don't know what they were then, but we 
 found them very pleasant now. 
 
 Well, to this region we have been, visiting the two great 
 sanctuaries, the Franciscan at La Vema, and Camaldoli, the 
 sanctuary of S. Romoald, with its white Frati and " Sagro 
 Eremo." I must confess that what first determined us was 
 the learning that the landlord of our hotel here had become 
 the proprietor of the disused portion of Camaldoli, which he 
 had turned into a hotel, and was very desirous that we should 
 try. We went by train to Arezzo, then drove from that 
 picturesque and foul place, with its idle gaping crowds, along 
 the prosperous Casentino as far as Bibbiena, not knowing 
 exactly how we were to travel to Camaldoli, as on the 
 ordnance map there were nothing but mule tracks marked, 
 and no "via rotabile." . . . However, we found that a 
 
372 DEAN GHUKCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 new carriage road had been made tie whole way to Camal- 
 doli, just like a Swiss pass, going along dreary moun- 
 tain shelves, with tremendous plunges below them. We 
 saw nothing of the place tiU, turning a comer, the convent 
 appeared — ^rather in a hole, but with such richness and 
 beauty of spring greenery all round it. After the heat of 
 the plains it was quite chilly, and called for wraps, indeed 
 we should all have been better for a fire, but all was very 
 clean and comfortabla There is still a body of nearly a 
 score of Frati, who have part of the convent buildings; 
 picturesque persons, in their white dress and white cloaks, 
 and large flapping straw hats. The Government has taken 
 all their vast possessions, but has, I don't know quite how, 
 allowed the Order to go on and to recruit itself, as far as 
 they are able to maintain themselves by their own resources, 
 which are said to be considerable, as they have many friends. 
 They now lease their buildings from Government on a ten 
 years' lease, paying no rent ; but they are bound to keep up 
 the buildings and to spend twenty thousand lire in the ten 
 years on them. And they are still the big people of the 
 place, looked upon as ill-treated owners, who will one day 
 get their own again. 
 
 Above the convent is the " Sagro Eremo," the scene of S. 
 Romoald's visions, and where he passed his life. The religious 
 life there is more severe than in the convent below, more 
 distinctly of the hermit sort. One brother, they said, had 
 been in seclusion for forty-eight years — coming however, I 
 understood, into choir for the offices. There were fourteen 
 hermits and four novices. The place is most beautiful ; such 
 forest walks, such forests of firs, beeches, and chestnuts, such 
 delicious springs, and such flowers. 
 
 From there M. and I made a day to La Verna ; carriage 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 373 
 
 the whole way, but you change into a lighter carriage at 
 Bibbiena, for the gradients are tremendously steep between 
 it and La Verna. We were between four and five hours. 
 How the fellow drove ! It was Corpus Ohristi day, and all 
 the world was making holiday. La Verna, when we got 
 near it, appeared as a huge mass of columnar sandstone, 
 falling on all sides in sheer cliflfs, and crowned with a forest 
 of beech and fir. At last we espied a building, attached like 
 a cage to the rock, but how it was to be got at did not appear. 
 But of course the way up duly showed itself. Up steep 
 zigzags, under a fierce sun, we wound up. The first thing 
 we came to was the "Chapel of the Birds," where the "pictae 
 aves " all came to salute St. Francis with " ave." Then we 
 came through a gateway into an irregular piazza filled with 
 country people who had come for the great festival, and were 
 now, after the procession, lounging, eating, gossiping, visiting 
 the sacred spots, saying their prayers, and interrupting them 
 to shake hands and have a laugh with their friends. Here 
 the Franciscans have been let alone, and are quite masters 
 of the situation. There are ninety of them (twenty-seven 
 priests), and they collect in alms enough to give food, on an 
 average, to two hundred travellers and " poveri " a day ; 
 while on a day like a great festa they " give to eat " to over 
 a thousand. There was immense bustle, but they gave us 
 hearty welcome. One Frate was told off to show us all the 
 wonders ; and, oh dear, how wonderful the whole thing was ! 
 The crowd had got into one sacred place where they had no 
 business to be. Some were eating, some were saying their 
 prayers, but our conductor was very angry at their having 
 got in without leave, and had a great row with one man 
 whom he tried to send away, and who got into a great rage. 
 " There were all these people eating and drinking, and these 
 
374 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTEES paet 
 
 strangers come to look about, and he only wanted to say an 
 Ave Maria at St. Francis' cross, and they would not let liim. 
 But he would ; " and storming and roaring at our conductor, 
 who was quite unahle to restrain him, he rushed into the 
 sacred cavern and knelt before the cross, saying his prayer, 
 and after cutting a bit off for a relic, he came away 
 victorious. 
 
 After seeing all the sights and hearing all the miracles, 
 we were taken to the guest-chamber, where they woidd not 
 let us eat what we had brought with us : no, we must have 
 the hospitality of St. Francis. They gave us a very good, 
 simple dinner ; one friar sat and chatted, another — very 
 quaint and full of humour — splayed anxious host, taking care 
 that we ate enough, and another brought in the dishes. It 
 was like a picture of Giotto or Benozzo Gozzoli. They were 
 very jolly and nice ; and they and the crowds whom they 
 served at dinner made a tremendous clatter. They were 
 very anxious that we should stay and see the Benediction 
 procession to the chapel of the Stigmata, but we had not 
 time. The crowd were rather scandalised, I think, by the 
 favour they showed us. They let M. go into some place not 
 usually allowed to women, to look at some beautiful Delia 
 Kobbias. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, R W. 0. 
 
 To THE Eev. W. J. OOPELAND. 
 
 Dbakeey, St. Paul's, lith July 1883. 
 My dear Oopeland — It is a long time since I have heai'd 
 of you. We are just come back from two months' wanderings 
 among the wonders of the world — Pisa, Florence, Bologna, 
 Ravenna, Venice, Innsbruck, Munich (where we dined with 
 Dollinger), Nuremberg, Cologne. It was very hot, and we 
 came back rather tired, but we are all right again now. 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 375 
 
 I saw the Cardinal shortly before we started in April. I 
 thought him looking wonderfully well and bright. He has 
 been up to town since. He seemed to me to have shaken 
 off much of the weakness which had hung about him since 
 he was at Rome. 
 
 The Royal Commission on Courts have finished their 
 sittings and signed their report. I gather that it will not 
 dare anything very striking. But it will put an end to the 
 Judicial Committee in its present form ; and it will bring 
 together a great deal of important and authentic information 
 and opinion. The hero of it has been Stubbs, who has 
 worked as few men can work, and has won universal admira- 
 tion and honour. The report does not satisfy him, but he 
 thinks it the best that could be hoped for ; and at any rate 
 his contributions wiU give it value. . . . — Ever yours 
 affectionately, R. W. Chueoh. 
 
 To Dr. Asa Geat. 
 
 Deanekt, St. Patl's, 6th Atigiist 1883. 
 My deae Peiend — ... I forget what I told you 
 about our holiday doings ; perhaps I did not tell you at 
 all. But I think you must have heard from some one better 
 than I am. But we had a " golden time," as Bacon would 
 say. Just imagine — and all in warm but not burning sun- 
 light — the Riviera, and Pisa, the sweetest of forlorn old cities, 
 with its pine forest by the sea, such a blue sea, and such 
 fine- cut Carrara mountains. . . . Then Florence, lovely 
 and wonderful as ever, full of new beautiful things, though 
 I have known it so long — the one place I think I never 
 should tire of. Then with the fine railway journey across 
 the Apennines (how you, with your astonishing Colorado 
 railways must look down on such little European perform- 
 
376 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paei 
 
 anoes) to Bologna, the city of doctors, -where the showman 
 of the museum made me sit down in Volta's chair, and where 
 Bolognese art, after Florentine, made us very cynical — for it 
 is fine after all. Then a good day at Bavenna, with its 
 basilicas and mosaics, and mighty tomb of the first and last 
 Teutonic king of Italy, Theodoric the Goth. And then 
 Venice — I need not tell you how people enjoy themselves 
 in Venice, when the weather is fine and they are well. But 
 we picked up a number of dropped stitches in a former visit, 
 and made ourselves more at home there, and read Mr. 
 Howell's with much satisfaction. Then we meant to have 
 had a bracing week in the mountains — the Dolomites — ^which 
 we talk much about in England, and which I had never seen. 
 Bracing, yes, as much as we wished, from cold and wet ; but 
 seeing, not much, for, except one day, the mountains were in 
 the clouds. It was so miserable after our Italian warmth 
 and luxury, that we gave up being braced, and rushed off to 
 flat, hot Germany — Innsbruck, Munich, and two old places 
 of the utmost interest and pioturesqueness, Eatisbon and 
 Nuremberg. It was hot, and we came back rather panting 
 and washed out, but we have seen something of our little old 
 world this year, and our education has had a little polishing 
 and finishing. 
 
 And now I am back to St. Paul's — and Bacon. I must 
 finish him, but I wish I had not taken him. It is impleasant 
 to take against your subject; and I get driven out of aU 
 patience by Spedding's special pleading for him. He seems 
 to me to have done no work, to have shown no example of 
 what he calls his method. But his imagination was his 
 great faculty, and all that is most valuable in him is due to 
 the prescient instinctive insight with which he looked on the 
 possibilities of knowledge ; the enthusiasm of a seer, not of a 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 377 
 
 philosopher who had measured, and weighed, and compared, 
 and done what Mozley calls the underground work of solid 
 thinking. Galileo, as you say, and Pascal did what Bacon 
 talked about without knowing how to do it, and they talked 
 after they had touch of the realities of a hunt after physical 
 truth. I believe this may be said now with less mvidia than 
 of old ; still it is a bore to abate reverence for a great name. 
 After all, he. belongs to an age of vast ambitious adventure, 
 which went to sea, little knowing whither it went, and iU 
 provided with knowledge or instrument. His is a sort of 
 poetical inauguration of science, as Shakespeare opens the 
 gate to that complex modern world of ideas and feelings and 
 tendencies, so different from the mediaeval or the classical 
 world. 
 
 At the conclusion of his task he writes again to Dr. 
 Gray : — 
 
 My poor Bacon has gone to the printers. It has been 
 very interesting work to read for it, but now that I have 
 done it, I should like to do it all over again. It is curious 
 to pass within so short a time from the poetical and fanciful 
 science of Bacon to the hard-headed mathematical science of 
 Newton. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 B. W. Church. 
 
 To THE Warden of Kbble. 
 
 Blaohfoud, 25th August 1884. 
 
 My dear Warden — ... I have been reading the 
 
 Journal Intwie?- It is full of interest, but an interest which 
 
 you never can be sure whether, when you turn the page, it 
 
 will not turn from admiration to repugnance. It is a very 
 
 ^ Fragments d'urit Journal Iniime, H. F. Amiel. 
 
378 DEAN CHUECH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 awful picture, on the whole, of what fine and religious minds 
 are coming to in the atmosphere of the Continent. It is 
 a strange state — the hold of an idea without its facts, of 
 redemption without a redeemer, and the presence of hope 
 and a kind of faith, with scarcely a shred of comfort except 
 from the sense of duty. The prominence of the idea of sin, 
 in such a writer, is remarkable. How good he is as a critic, 
 e.g. Eenan. 
 
 We have been having wonderful summer days, such as he 
 describes on 25th August 1871. I am glad you are delight- 
 ing yourself in the Paradiso. That is the true pierre de 
 touche of the student of Dante. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. C. 
 
 To LoBD Blachford. 
 
 Deaneky, St. Paul's, 12th September 1884. 
 Mt dear Blachford — We are having it for a few days 
 like those wonderful summer days at Blachford ; but they 
 are not quite the same thing, even on the Embankment and 
 in the parks. Some time or o'ther I shall have to ask you 
 for a little help — that is, if I go on with my notion of having 
 my say about the old Oxford days. One thing that I should 
 try to do is to bring out Eroude. Of course his time was 
 cut short. But it seems to me that so memorable a person 
 ought to be duly had in remembrance ; and people now 
 hardly recognise how much he had to do with the first stir. 
 But of course all my knowledge of him is second-hand, or 
 gathered from his books. He reminds me of Pascal — ^his 
 unflinchingness, his humour, his hatred of humbugs, his 
 mathematical genius, his mechanical interest (architecture 
 and the French JR^volutionnaire ^), his imagination, his merci- 
 
 ^ K. Hurrell Fronde's Remains, i. p. 313. 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 379 
 
 less Belf-discipline. I should like to bring all this out, if, as 
 I suppose, it is true. — I don't suppose Pascal would have 
 loved the sea, he would have been " seek ! " 
 
 The death of Bishop Jackson, who had been Bishop 
 of London since 1869, took place at the beginning of the 
 following year : — 
 
 To THE Samk. 
 
 Deanbet, St. Paul's, 6th January 1885. 
 As you wUl have heard, we have lost our Bishop. To us 
 he is a great loss. To the cathedral, not always agreeing 
 with us, he has been uniformly so kind, so generous, so 
 hearty in. recognising anything that seemed likely to be 
 usefuL When I think of what other bishops might have 
 been, even good bishops, I cannot say how much I honour 
 his readiness to believe good, his sympathy and goodwill, in 
 spite of his cold manner. And his cold manner has been 
 thawing more and more during his later years. It ended by 
 his being quite affectionate to me and all mine. . . . — ^Yours 
 affectionately, E. W. Church 
 
 The " dynamite scare," of which a former letter had 
 spoken, had not yet passed away ; — 
 
 To Lord Blachfoed. 
 Dbaneet, St. Paul's, 27th Jaauary 1885. 
 My dear Blachford — You see we are living among 
 volcanoes. It is an odd sort of feeling, and curiously devoid 
 of any real alarm, that while we are at service a dynamite 
 
380 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 packet may go oflf. One listens sometimes to see if it will 
 not If it did, no doubt the feeling would change. I don't 
 think myself that they will hurt us unless they can get 
 nothing else to hurt ; then perhaps they might do us rather 
 than be quite idle. But I think that they would rather 
 avoid the odium of attacking a religious building, and of 
 bloodshed, though they do not mind the latter if it cannot 
 be helped. Only plainly they do not aim at it. The only 
 thing that gives me any misgiving is that St. Paul's was in 
 a list of condemned buildings, three of which have come 
 true — the Bridge, Westminster, and the Tower. And so we 
 keep our eyes open. I have frantic letters warning me 
 against black bags being carried into the cathedraL I 
 believe there is no doubt that the dynamite at Westminster 
 was carried in a woman's under-garment. But it is_ disagree- 
 able that none of these fellows can be caught. They have 
 scored off us this time ; — ^wrecking the House of Commons, 
 and specially the Government side of it, must be such a 
 triumph that I should not wonder if it was too much for 
 the reserve and silence of some of the gentlemen. 
 
 We are waiting anJciously for news from Egypt. It will 
 be curious if Stewart has boldly left Metammeh on one side, 
 and struck for the sixth cataract, where the Khartoum 
 steamers are supposed to be. That would be impossible 
 against regular troops, but might be possible against Arabs. 
 — Ever yours affectionately, B. W. C. 
 
 To THE Waeden of Keblb. 
 
 Deanbet, St. Paul's, 26th February 1885. 
 My dear Warden — Thank you for letting me see the 
 enclosed. You wiU have seen the Archbishop's complaint 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 381 
 
 echoed in the Guardian article.^ I question whether it ia 
 quite fair to say that it is either the Church Union or the 
 Church Association who really have prevented any move 
 towards improvement by legislation, such as suggested by the 
 Commission. What has been much more serious and 
 effectual in stopping things is the certainty that most people 
 feel, probably Mr. Gladstone not the least, that it would be 
 hopeless to attempt to carry out the recommendations of the 
 Commission in Parliament. A bill of course might be got 
 through, but a bill in which the rather nicely - arranged 
 balance of the report would be rudely and unceremoniously 
 upset. And then, how should we be better off, — with the 
 Bishop's veto finally extinguished, and the "supremacy of 
 the law,'' and the lawyers well clenched ? 
 
 I don't think myself that the " truce of God " did depend 
 so much on expectation of improvement. It was much more 
 that men were for the time sick of the thing, and this feeling 
 had been strengthened by the late Archbishop's last days, 
 and the effect produced on Bishop Jackson. But of course 
 these things wear out ; and I daresay it is possible that we 
 are on the eve of another time of trouble. The Liverpool 
 affair seems quite unprovoked. 
 
 Whoever is guilty about the stoppage of legislation, it is 
 clear that great people have a great deal of weight, and some 
 responsibility, in being able to express opinion as to the 
 mischief of needlessly appealing to the courts. They cannot 
 stop it, but they can judge it. 
 
 Matthew's letter is very interesting, and opens up wonder- 
 ful prospects of a native church. How very pleasant is his 
 account of the Oxford Mission ; but what does he mean by 
 
 1 See Owardim, 25tli February 1885, p. 297. 
 
382 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 their " methods," which he " doubta " ? '^ Not by words of 
 wisdom" alone, certainly not, hut by words of wisdom from 
 men who follow the epistle for this week (2 Oor. vi.), in 
 which knowledge is one of the instruments. . . .—Ever 
 yours affectionately, E. W. 0. 
 
 Orvieto, with its cathedral and its great series of 
 frescoes by Luca Signorelli, ranked as the central point 
 of interest in the holiday of 1885. Yet no Italian 
 journey was complete without a pause at Florence, 
 when each return added fresh strength to the Dean's 
 love of his early home. 
 
 To Lord Blachford. 
 
 Peeitgua, 29«A May 1885. 
 My dear Blachford — ^Well, we have done Orvieto, and 
 you may envy us. It is worth doing even at the cost of 
 more inconvenience than we found ; for the inn is very 
 tolerable, clean, roomy, with civil people ; and the heat, 
 though great, endurable. We drove from here on Wednesday 
 — much the best way if you have time (nine hours), for the 
 drive over the high ridge dividiag the valley of the Tiber 
 and the Chiana is very delightful, passing by several 
 picturesque villages, once walled and fortified, and rising 
 through fine oak woods, filled also with scented broom in 
 full golden flower ; nightingales too, and everything proper 
 to a mountain road, except water. At the top of the ridge 
 you look down on the two valleys or plains ; the sides of 
 the mountain being scored with deep gashes or ravines in 
 the clayey ground, fuU of golden broom. You know the 
 look of Orvieto from the station — just an example of the 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 383 
 
 " Tot congesta manu praeruptis oppida saxis," " Fluminaque 
 antiques subterlabentia muros." 
 
 It took us more than half an hour to drive up (in fierce 
 afternoon heat) to the town. But it was worth the drive. 
 The fagade is of the same kind as Siena, but I think more 
 beautiful : the enrichment of the portals and basement more 
 delicate and full — beautiful bas-relief and Cosmato work — a 
 most exquisite rose window in a square, and the three 
 gables ; not so good in outline as Siena, but with much more 
 richness of mosaic and marble colour. Unfortunately the 
 mosaics, which have been restored, are very inferior to the 
 smaller portions of the old work which remain. Still, the 
 whole effect, with the bright afternoon, and later, the 
 evening light upon this great face, is simply superb. Then 
 inside there is a chapel covered with frescoes by Lnca 
 SignorelU, which takes rank with any of the great painted 
 chapels which can be named. Every inch of it is covered 
 with fresco, picture, or ornament ; I never saw such pro- 
 fusion of imagination and invention, and all with such 
 perfect self-restrained power and taste. The main subjects 
 are, the End of all Things, the Apocalyptic Woes, Resurrec- 
 tion, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell ; but the remarkable 
 feature is that this is prefaced by the appearance and 
 triumphs of Antichrist. Antichrist is no dreadful monster, 
 but a most grand and dignified figure, with just a faint 
 suggestion of Him of whom he is the rival ; noble in look 
 and form till you look into the face, and then the wickedness 
 discloses itself; and he is surrounded with groups of the 
 same statebness or beauty, and with a profusion of rich and 
 beautiful things, but with nothing that openly suggests bad- 
 ness — only worldliness and its temptations, till you look to 
 the background, and there persecutions and bloodshed are 
 
384 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 going on. But the whole thing is like reading a perfectly- 
 original book on a well-known and trite subject. Henceforth 
 Luca Signorelli will he very high in my estimate of painters ; 
 but no picture I ever saw of his gave me any notion of 
 what I should see of his here. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 E. W. C. 
 
 To THE WAEDBBr OF KeBLB. 
 
 Floeenoe, Uh June 1885. 
 
 Mt dear Wakden — . . . We are lounging here, taking 
 things easy, and enjoying blue sky and pleasant airs. To-day, 
 Corpus Domini, is a great day. We saw the procession in 
 the Duomo, the Archbishop carrying the Host, and a large 
 crowd of people, partly devout, partly curious, and after- 
 wards a great Mass at S. Maria Novella. But the outdoor 
 processions are given up, except those of the Confraternities, 
 in their white dresses and with their banners and crosses, 
 going and coming. It is hard to make out the real state 
 of feeling ; but I should say that the outward look of 
 devotion was gaining, only one cannot see or hear what goes 
 on among the mockers and haters. The clergy seem to have 
 a considerable hold over the young children ; they have 
 singing services and processions, and the children certainly 
 like the hymns, and know them by heart. When the Arch- 
 bishop left the Duomo this morning the children were all 
 crowding to kiss his hand, both of their own accord, and put 
 forward by their friends. 
 
 But they are funny people. At a Mass this morning 
 there was an old fellow who alternately begged and responded. 
 (WMsper), "Povero vecchio, caro sjgnore." {Aloud), "Et 
 cum spirito tuo." (Whisper), " Un po' di limosina." (Aloiid), 
 "Amen." (Whisper), "Per caritS,." (Ahiid), "Amen." 
 
ST. PAUL'S 385 
 
 "La prego per ainor di Dio." (Aloud), "Amen,'' 
 and so on. They manage to say their prayers and talk at 
 the same time without any inconvenience ; you need never 
 fear interrupting them by a question. 
 
 We have been prowling over our old grounds. It is 
 distressing to see what progress the worms (iarli) are making 
 in some of the dear old pictures on wood. The beautiful 
 . Botticelli in the Ufflzi is suffering ; the brutes have drilled 
 their holes in conspicuous places ; I am afraid they are 
 as aggressive as the Russians at Pendjeh. The only new 
 acquaintance we have made is a pretty little cloister of the 
 Scalzi, near S. Marco, painted by Andrea del Sarto. But 
 there is nothing like the old places. One gets new estimates 
 of them. I don't think I used to prize the Accademia as 
 much as it deserves. The big room is full of magnificence, 
 even more than the Uffizi, though there are special things 
 in the Uffizi which nothing equals. And then the great 
 painted chapels — the S/ Maria Novella ones, the Carmine, 
 and S. Crooe. And now we have something to match them 
 with — those at Spello and Orvieto. I get overwhelmed 
 sometimes with the wonder, and with the little that seems 
 to have come of it all. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 For some time past, as an earlier letter has shown, 
 the Dean had had in mind a History of the Oxford 
 Movement. The following letter shows that the work 
 was already in progress : — 
 
 2c 
 
386 DEAN OHUKCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 To THE Warden op Kbblb. 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, Ith April 1886. 
 
 My dear Warden — I wish I saw some chance of a rush 
 lo Bournemouth. But I do not. I am in the thick of work 
 which is not very easy, trying to say what I can about the 
 later development of the Movement, when Ward got hold of 
 the British Critic and drove it like Phaeton tiU. it upset, and" 
 he was tumbled into matrimony and the Koman Church. 
 It is not easy work, and I want to get at least a first draft 
 off my hands before Easter. But I hope to have a few days 
 at Oxford after Easter, and to find you there, though Bourne- 
 mouth would be pleasanter. 
 
 It is all very dreary and unhappy just now. The G.O.M. 
 persisting in his heroic enterprise in the teeth of everything 
 and everybody, sure that he is right, and apparently sure 
 that he knows best the conditions of success. 1 cannot 
 conceive how it will all end. But, whether he is right or 
 not, there is something to me unspeakably pathetic in his 
 solitude. 
 
 . . . And if he goes, I am sure I shall not like the con- 
 junction of Lord Hartington and Chamberlain better. Per- 
 haps he is right, and the via salutis may open out of the 
 thick of disaster. But I can't see it ; and for the second 
 time in my life I have to try as well as I can to unite 
 unabated admiration with the impossibility of moral or in- 
 tellectual agreement. 
 
 Well, I dare say you have heard that we had three days 
 of the Cardinal. He was so bright, so kind, so affectionate ; 
 very old and soon tired, but also soon refreshed with -a pause 
 of rest, and making fun of his old age. " You know I could 
 not do an addition sum." Anyhow, he was quite alive to all 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 387 
 
 that is passing round liim, though cautious and reticent, as 
 he should be. But the old smile and twinkle of the eye, 
 and bright, meaning dpwvua, are all still there, and all 
 seemed to belong to the old days. 
 
 So W. Forster is gone . . . Gladstone's little speech was 
 touching, considering how they had parted. 
 
 Aubrey Moore is giving us very good lectures. Fred 
 must be getting near the coast of Greece, about Sphacteria 
 and Pylos. He ought to be at Athens to-morrow. He got 
 on very well up to Marseilles. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. 0. 
 
 The writing of the final chapter of The Oxford Move- 
 ment, with its narrative of defeat and seeming failure, 
 had opened up memories of the dark days of 1845 and 
 1846. 
 
 To THE Warden of Kbble. 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, 11th November 1886. 
 
 My deau Warden — Thank you for your kind note, and, 
 as ever, kind and generous interest in what I sent you. I 
 think I can read between the lines, that this bit has dis- 
 appointed you ; and no wonder. It ought to wind up the 
 climax of the tragedy, and it only shows the languor of 
 defeat, even in remembrance. But I don't know what else 
 there was to tell. We sat glumly at our breakfasts every 
 morning, and then some one came in with news of something 
 disagreeable — some one gone, some one sure to go. 
 
 The good Heads ate and drank, and only cared in an 
 obscure sort of way for these things. When an impudent 
 and troublesome imposture is at last blown up, the impostors 
 — and it was not they who went, but we who stayed, who 
 
388 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 were voted impostors — keep " coy,'' and say little. We 
 read, we worked at articles for tlie Christian Bemembrcmcer 
 and Guarddcm, — et voild, tout. The only two " facts " of the 
 time were that Pusey and Keble did not move, and that 
 James Mozley showed that there was one strong mind and 
 soul still left in Oxford. All the rest were the recurring 
 tales, each more sickening than the other, of the " goings over;" 
 stories, often incredible, of the break-up of character for the 
 moment ; mixtures of tragic pathos with broad farce, of real 
 self-sacrifice with determined indulgence in the pleasure of 
 satisfying one mastering craving ; of blundering trickery and 
 a conscience like a compass which has lost its magnetism, 
 with undoubted and most serious earnestness. 
 
 But I mxist stop. I am better, but stUl bad. I am so 
 glad to hear of your mending. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 B. W. 0. 
 
 The "truce of God," in ecclesiastical matters, of 
 which the Dean had spoken in a former letter, had been 
 rudely broken in upon by the prosecution of Mr. Bell 
 Cox of St. Margaret's, Liverpool, for ritual offences, and 
 his consequent imprisonment. 
 
 To THE Archbishop op Canterbdet. 
 
 Deauery, St. Paul's, 26a May 1S87. 
 My dear Lord Archbishop — You have always been so 
 kind to me that I venture, asking your indulgence if I am 
 too bold, to write a few words to you about what has greatly 
 disturbed and distressed me — the Bell Cox matter. I do 
 not write to give you the trouble of answering, but be- 
 cause I think you may wish to know what is passing in the 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 389 
 
 minds of persons and classes of many different shades of 
 opinion. 
 
 I say at once that I have no remedies to suggest for the 
 unhappy and unexpected state of things into which we have 
 drifted back. I cannot hope much from legislation, even if 
 legislation of any kind were just now more practicable than 
 it seems. My only hope is from the moral weight of the 
 Episcopate being thrown with all its force on the side of 
 toleration and peace. But I will venture to say what par- 
 ticularly touches me in this case, and what seems to me a 
 special danger arising out of it., This Bell Cox case has 
 come home to my sense of justice far more strongly than 
 any of the previous imprisonmenta They were in the thick 
 of battle, and of hot blood. This comes after all has cooled 
 down. ... To me it comes with the sense of almost in- 
 tolerable wrong, when one sees a quiet man, in full agree- 
 ment with his congregation, made a victim, in the midst of 
 all the varieties of opinion and practice. . . . For it is too 
 cynical an excuse, as I believe is sometimes made, that a 
 bishop needs some outward move, like a prosecution, to make 
 him obey what he emphatically proclaims to be the law over 
 his own clergy. 
 
 What makes me very uneasy is this. The day may come 
 on us, notwithstanding our present respite, when the Church 
 may have to go forth into the wilderness. It will anyhow 
 be a difficult task to keep parties together in her in such a 
 revolution. Low Churchmen, Broad Church, High Church- 
 men, will all be difficult to manage. But it will make things 
 still more awkward, if there is then any large body of men 
 who are smarting under a strong sense of injustice suffered 
 during the days of establishment. Think how the arguments 
 for Eome would be pressed, and how bitterness of mind gives 
 
390 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 them force. The one counterpoise to this would be if men 
 could remember that, though the lawyers had been hard 
 upon them, the Episcopate had made its voice heard 
 clearly and powerfully on the side of patience and forbear- 
 ance and real fairness, against the miserable system of 
 ignoble worrying, which ends in things like the Bell Cox 
 scandal. 
 
 Please forgive me if I have spoken more warmly than 
 becomes my place. But I am afraid that I am thought a 
 coward by some of my friends, for not repeating what has 
 been done before, and heading a list of signatures to some 
 public representative. The time for that seems to me past, 
 and it might be greatly misinterpreted. But I do feel as 
 strongly as to the real wrong, and the real danger of such 
 things as we have only just escaped, as any one who wishes 
 to speak strongly in public. It must not be forgotten before 
 whom, all these things are done ; not only the English Church 
 and people, but Christendom, which means more and more 
 to us every year that we live, as every year brings new and 
 formidable dangers to all religion. And what all see is, that 
 while Mr. Bell Cox goes to prison for having lighted candles, 
 and mixed water with the wine, and refusing to give up such 
 things, dignified clergy of the Church can make open ques- 
 tions of the personality of God, and the fact of the resurrec- 
 tion, and the promise of immortality. 
 
 Under our present conditions — ^necessary conditions as it 
 seems to me, with which I for one do not quarrel — of vast 
 liberty and inevitable compromise, I should be sorry to see 
 even such things put down by courts of law. Their true 
 enemies, their true antidotes, are not judicial sentences, but 
 Christian ideas, not only in discussion, but in life and action ; 
 as long as these ideas can command enthusiasm and self- 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 391 
 
 sacrifice, they will do what arguments cannot do, and much 
 less, force. 
 
 . . . Once more, please forgive me. Believe that I am 
 most sensible of all the difficulties which encompass any 
 public action, and most sure of your deep sympathy for all 
 that is just and merciful, and that makes for peace ; and 
 that it is with the sincerest respect and affection that I 
 subscribe myself your very faithful servant, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 To Lord Blachford. 
 
 Dbaneey,.St. Paul's, 25th June 1887. 
 Mt dear Blachford — WeU — our drums and trumpets i 
 (the latter very fine) banged and blared to great efi'ect, and 
 made Mayor and Aldermen and Common Councilmen " sit 
 up," to their great satisfaction. I flatter myself that our 
 service was not the least properly arranged one, or the least 
 effective. As Stainer says, Handel's Te Deum is heavy to 
 modern ears ; and I think it does not touch the tender and 
 pathetic part of the Te Deum. But it is wonderfully stately 
 and impressive in its opening. I noticed one thing which 
 perhaps is an over-refinement. The least striking bit is the 
 rendering of the verses concerning the Three Persons — " The 
 Father — Thine honourable, true, and only Son — Also the 
 Holy Ghost the Comforter." It is not dwelt on, but run 
 through — almost rushed through, as if it were only one 
 verse. Well, when Handel wrote was just the time when 
 Queen Caroline, wife of George II., ^was supposed to be 
 countenancing the people who took the wrong side in the 
 
 ' At a service held in St. Paul's on the occasion of the Queen's 
 Jubflee. 
 
392 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE ANX> LETTERS pakt 
 
 great Trinitarian controversy then raging. It would be 
 curious if that influenced a composition which, of course, 
 would be talked about in the court of the hero of Dettingen, 
 1743. 
 
 The Grays are with us, not a bit tired with all their gay 
 doings at Cambridge and Oxford. This evening Dr. Gray is 
 gone oS with my wife and P. to a garden party at DoUis 
 Hill, having a great desire to see the G.O.M., and Mrs. Gray 
 and the girls to the Archbishop's party at Lambeth. 
 
 I hope your aflfairs went well. It has, after all, been a 
 wonderful time. I am rather better, but cannot do anything 
 fatiguing without bringing on breathlessness and distress. I 
 was greatly done up with the funzione on Thursday. — Ever 
 yours affectionately, E. W. 0. 
 
 To THE Eev. Geobgb Baintojt. 
 
 Deaneky, St. Paul's, list September 1887. 
 
 Dear Sir — I would gladly help one who writes so kindly 
 as you do, if I could do so. But I have nothing to say. I 
 have never studied style as such ; and I hardly imagine to 
 myself how it is to be studied. It has always seemed to me 
 that thoughts brought their own words, which, of course, had 
 to be considered and sifted; but the root of the expression 
 must be in the thought itself, which, if it was real and worth 
 anything, would suggest the expression. 
 
 And except in watching against the temptation of unreal 
 and of jim words, I do not recognise in myself any special 
 training for style. The great thing in writing is to know 
 what you want and nlean to say, and to say it in words that 
 come as near to your meaning as you can get them to come. 
 Of course this is sometimes troublesome, and often in the 
 end unsatisfactory. That is the old and the true rule of 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 393 
 
 writing, because it is based on tie effort after reality, and is 
 tbe counter-charm to laziness and negligence, and to show 
 and make-believe. It involves certain bye-rules against 
 these faults — care and trouble, and satisfying yourself that 
 you have said what you meant ; merciless cutting out of 
 merely fine language and of useless adjectives and adverbs ; 
 care about your verbs in preference to your adjectives. 
 After all, self-restraint and jealousy of what one's self- 
 indulgence or vanity tempts us to is the best rule in writing 
 as in eating. A good writer once said, "Always cut out a 
 passage which you are most proud of." 
 
 As you see, I am a bad expounder of the secrets of writing. 
 When I was a boy, and at college, I did a great deal of trans- 
 lating from English into Latin, which is a great discipline in 
 itself. Where one's stock of words came from I cannot 
 tell. But I suppose they come if one reads with care good 
 English. Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Burke, Walter Scott, 
 Defoe {Robinson Grusoe), Goldsmith, were, as far as I can 
 remember, the books I used to value, as giving, besides their 
 thoughts, the most delightful and striking ways of saying 
 them. Besides these, I heard and read a good deal of 
 Mr. Newman's preaching ; and it is, I am sure, to him that 
 I owe it, if I can write at all simply and with the wish to 
 be real. Of course being accustomed to good models pro- 
 duces insensibly a habit of mind which dislikes and shrinlts 
 from what is merely conventional, unmeaning, and "flash." 
 
 I am afraid I have not been able to suggest anything that 
 you do not know as well as I do. But, as I said, I have 
 never gone into the analysis ^ of style. — ^Yours truly, 
 
 E. W. Church. 
 
 ' Some jottings from an old note-book of the Dean's, in which he 
 has set down some observations on the course and working of his own 
 
394 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 To Dr. Asa Ghat. 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, 26th N'ovemher 1887. 
 
 My dbak Feiend — I have treated you very shabbily. I 
 did not write to say good-bye to you when you left, and to 
 beg your pardon for not arranging to have a last sight of 
 you. Of course I have been meaning to tell you this any 
 time since then ; and now it has come to November, and it 
 is not yet done. 
 
 We were very glad to hear Mrs. Gray's account of herself 
 during the voyage. I suppose you are happily and busily at 
 work, with the pleasant feeling that if winter cuts off our 
 outdoor's enjoyment, it invites to comfortable employment 
 within ; and you can stay in and work with a good conscience 
 because it is too bad to go out. 
 
 We have not been quite so fortunate. I had looked 
 forward with some hope to being able to breast the winter 
 in London, and to avoid the break-up of home, at least till 
 some time forward next year. But it won't do. About a 
 month ago it turned sharp and cold, and my lungs began to 
 give in, and refuse to do their work. Last week was one of 
 fat, black fogs, thick with carbonic and sulphurous acids. I 
 was fairly beaten, and ordered away ignominiously to the 
 Riviera at once. And so I go : though the last few days 
 
 mind, may have an interest when read in connection with the above 
 letter. "First thoughts, fresh thoughts ; second thoughts, corrected, 
 often stiff and formal ones ; third thoughts, shy, homely thoughts, 
 lurking about half ashamed and unconscious in corners of one's mind, 
 exceptions hardly worth while making, qualifications one only just 
 glances at or passes over, details seemingly not of due dignity, points 
 which seem too troublesome to malce out and state, or too cumbrous, 
 often generalisations, at first sight commonplace, but with the real 
 gist of the matter in them. These third thoughts *orth keeping a 
 close eye upon." 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 395 
 
 have been milder, and I better. But much tbe worst is that 
 Fred is more deeply touched than I am ; and I am afraid 
 that Dr. Ogle is seriously anxious about him. He may work 
 through it. There are people who are active and doing 
 effective work with only one lung, or one and a half. But 
 every one does not get off so easily ; and for some time to 
 come he will have to lead the life of an invalid, with an 
 end to all prospects at the bar. He can amuse himself with 
 a certain amount of literary work ; but it is doubtful whether ' 
 he will be able to do much more than amuse himself ; while 
 a severe cold might at any time be more than he could bear. 
 
 We go on Monday to Hy&res (he also), where, if we like 
 it, we shall be. stationary for some time, perhaps for a couple 
 of months, or even more. This will depend on health, and 
 what Riviera air and sun do for us. 
 
 I suppose by this time Darwin's life will have reached 
 you. In spite of that refusal to accept the Hand stretched 
 forth out of the darkness, which saddens so many of the lives 
 of our time, he seems a very attractive and noble person. 
 The utter absence of bigwiggedness, the simplicity and the 
 candour, the genuine delight in taking trouble and giving 
 help, the kindness and brightness, the unworldliness and 
 absence of elation, seem to me very charming. I have only 
 seen the review in the Times, but it was full, though it seemed 
 to me a little overstrained for the person who was its subject. 
 
 Good-bye, and be happy. All best messages to Mrs. Gray. 
 — Ever yours affectionately, R. W. Church. 
 
 With these vs^ords the long correspondence closes. 
 Two days after they were written. Dr. Gray was struck 
 down with paralysis at his home in Cambridge, America, 
 and died after a few weeks of lingering illness. And 
 
396 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 the letter has a further sad significance. It marks the 
 end of the varied and delightful converse of thirty-five 
 years; it tells too of a deeper sorrow which was fast 
 approaching in the death of the Dean's only son. 
 Hitherto, whatever had been the pressure from public 
 anxieties, the home life had been one of singularly 
 unclouded brightness. Nothing had ever occurred to 
 .break in upon its completeness, and as the years had 
 advanced, they had brought with them the added happi- 
 ness of tastes and interests and enjoyments shared in 
 common. His son had inherited from the Dean much 
 of his classical aud literary taste ; and in his good 
 scholarship, his accurate and fastidious literary instinct, 
 his keen insight, and simplicity, and exacting love of 
 truth, there were qualities that carried on the resemblance 
 of mind and character between father and son. His 
 little volume, The Trial and Death of Socrates, published 
 in Macmillan's Golden Treasury Series, as well as his 
 translation — the first that had appeared in English — 
 of Dante's Latin treatise Be Monorchia, bear the marks 
 of scholarly workmanship, such as gave promise of further 
 excellence and success in the future. For a few weeks 
 after the foregoing letter was written, the change to the 
 soft climate and sunshine of the south of France seemed 
 to allow the hope of a possible rally ; but such hope als 
 there was quickly faded, and in the middle of January, 
 at Hyferes, the end came. 
 
 Among the letters of sympathy called forth by such 
 a sorrow was one from the Archbishop of Canterbury, 
 which brings out touchingly the proud affection that, 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 397 
 
 under an appearance of reserve, marked all the son's 
 thoughts and feelings towards his father. " I think I 
 have told you," the Archbishop writes, " how he once 
 made an hour pass so brightly and strangely for me by 
 a most loving and minute account and analysis of his 
 father's last sermon — how present it all seemed to him, 
 and he to feed on it. I thought there are not many 
 fathers who so preach to any son's heart and mind — 
 or any one's at all." ^ 
 
 ^ It will be forgiven, if to the preceding words is added the testi- 
 mony of the late Lord Justice Bowen, in whose chambers Mr. Church 
 had for a time read law as a pnpil. 
 
 "I should like you to know," he wrote to the Dean, "that he 
 was appreciated by those outside his own immediate circle. In some 
 ways he was singularly unlike other pupils I ever had — there was 
 an element of unworldliness of the highest degree about him — that in 
 spite of his great ability would always have made it difficult for him 
 to enjoy the law as a career — and which ' differentiated ' him in a 
 marked way from men of intellectual powers like his own. When 
 you came to know him well, one felt the attraction of this, and all 
 that it connoted, the spotlessness of character that went with it ; the 
 separation in some sense that it entailed from others ; and the refine- 
 ment and chivalrous simplicity that was so apparent, or rather trans- 
 parent, in all he did. I should have said, recalling all my association 
 with him at 1 Brick Court, that it would always have been doubtful 
 how far the rough ways of a rough profession would not have ended, 
 in spite of his cleverness and his gifts, in driving him away from it. 
 There was an innocent preference of simpler and better things that 
 made one conscious that the law was not his ideal of a profession, 
 though for your sake I believe he would loyally and thoroughly have 
 done all that his health permitted to succeed. But a ' lovable ' and 
 simple nature is not overjoyed at the bar, and its excitements and 
 performances — and I should always have half felt as if he was thrown 
 away at it — unless he had happened (and chance is really an element 
 in the calculation) to rise suddenly to the crest of the wave. 
 
 "You doubtless know how deep and faithful his devotion was to 
 his home. I never saw any one in whom the ' star ' of home shone 
 so continuously and so brightly. I am satisfied, from what I saw of 
 him, that yon were his first thought, — I mean by you, yourself and 
 those dear to him, — and that he would always have given up anything 
 for you. — Yours very sincerely Chakles Bowen." 
 
398 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 To THE Archbishop of Cabttbrbttrt. 
 
 HTteRES, 28/A January 1888. 
 Mt dear Lord Archbishop — We are very grateful to 
 you and Mrs. Benson for thinking of us. It lias been a 
 dreadful and unexpected blow. Nothing that has ever 
 happened to me in life has been like that moment when we 
 saw that no breath came through his lips. We had hoped 
 till the last two days ; just before then there had been a 
 distinct improvement, which surprised the doctor. But he 
 was spared much suffering, though he was very weary and 
 feeble. The end was in peaceful sleep. 
 
 For more than forty years death has not come very near 
 us ; and now we have been made acquainted with his awful 
 presence among us. We have been hearing much of him by 
 the hearing of the ear ; and now our eyes have seen him in 
 our own home, and very close to us. We did not know 
 what is such a common experience ; now we do know. 
 Such partings are a very sorrowful part of our condition 
 here. 
 
 But it is not to be told how much we have to be thankful 
 for ; above all, the sweet, gentle, uncomplaining patience 
 with which he went, day by day, along that weary road to 
 the end. He took us by surprise : there was not a murmur 
 from first to last ; and he used to be quick and impatient 
 sometimes in his days of health. But now all was quiet, 
 grateful, obedient affection and self-command. We found 
 indeed, that after all our thirty-three years of him, we did 
 not know him — did not know all that he had been thinking of 
 in past days ; did not know how he loved us ; did not know, 
 either, how he was valued and loved by the few friends 
 whom he lived with, and how his influence with them had 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 399 
 
 been strong, and for all Mgh and good things. Perhaps we 
 should not have known aU this if we had gone before him. 
 He had, more than any one I ever knew, the child, the child's 
 irony and reserve, joined to the man of resolute, independent, 
 truth-loving thought. And all these years he has been 
 slowly ripening,, and we could not always understand the 
 process, and at times were even anxious about it. Now we 
 know, as far as this world can know; and it is indeed a 
 thing to bless God for. 
 
 Forgive me for so running on ; but a thing like this flUs 
 the mind for long. He used to talk of your kindness to 
 him at Zermatt. Zermatt and Athens divided his heart 
 with his home. He was to have spent this winter at Athens. 
 May we ask to be most kindly remembered to Mrs. Benson. 
 — Yours most gratefully and affectionately, 
 
 E. W. Church. 
 
 To Mrs. Asa Gray. 
 
 HYteEBS, Uh February 1888. 
 
 Mt dear Mrs. Gray — I hope that I am not giving 
 you trouble by writing at this moment, but I do not like to 
 let it pass. I have seen that the end has come. I cannot 
 help feeling that your weeks of waiting have been, for much 
 of them, OUTS too. So it has been ordered, and if there 
 could be anything that could make his departure more 
 affecting to me, it would be this. 
 
 Such a time makes one look back. And surely, I look back 
 with the sense that in his friendship I have had one of the 
 purest and most unmixed blessings in my life. It is so 
 strange too. First, just the chance accLuaintance in Oxford, 
 ripening, by his sympathy and by happy events, into most 
 affectionate regard ; never long interrupted, and connected 
 
400 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 besides with so mucli that is so delightful to recall : mornings 
 at Zermatt, or lying on the turf at the Eiffel among the 
 flowers ; visits at Whatley and Mells, with Mr. Horner with 
 us ; visits at Blaohford, and bright conversations between 
 him and Lord Blachford; the arrival of books, or extracts 
 from journals, or essays on Darwin, or scientific biographies 
 — and all the interest which Ms sympathetic mind seized on. 
 It is all most delightful to remember and to think about ; it 
 is indeed something to be grateful for ; it is something to 
 give body and strength to hope. 
 
 But I did not mean to fun on. I only write to tell you 
 of our most deep sympathy. And yet, what joy and con- 
 solation you must feel in what has been. 
 
 All kindest remembrances from us all. — Yours very 
 sincerely, R. W. Church. 
 
 To Lord Blachford. 
 
 Cap d'Antibes, Slst March 1888. 
 
 Mt dear Blachford — I hope we shall see you in town. 
 We must be turning homeward after next week. How 
 quickly the first quarter of the year has gone. I wish it 
 had included a week of you here. We have had some un- 
 comfortable weather, but on the whqje it has been very 
 pleasant ; deadly quiet, but with one or two acquaintances 
 to remind us of an outside world — an English propri^taire, 
 Mr. Wyllie, with a charming place and great friendliness, an 
 old French captain, au hng cows, Lord Acton, Mrs. Pole 
 Carew. 
 
 . . . These French are odd peopla In most public 
 matters, it is of course to ignore religion ; but there are just 
 one or two in which it is publicly recognised. The military 
 Mass still holds its ground; but ioNthe navy it seems that it 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 401 
 
 is necessary to defer still more to the feelings of the sailors, 
 who are most of them fishermen and men of " cabotage,'' of 
 whose piety all the churches of the coast contain such ample 
 memorials in the shape of objects recognising vows made in 
 moments of danger. Anyhow, Good Friday is ofiacially 
 kept on board the fleet, by order of the Maritime Prefect of 
 Toulon, in the most solemn manner. At eight o'clock a 
 gun was fired, and all the flags were set at half-mast, and the 
 yards and gafi's drooped and sloped, which is the sign of 
 mourning ; and all through yesterday, and till ten this morn- 
 ing, the flag-ship fired a gun every hour. No work was 
 done, and especially no washing of clothes allowed. Then 
 at ten this morning, Easter Eve, a gun was fired, all the 
 yards crossed, and flags run up, and a salute of twenty-one 
 guns fired by the admiral's ship. And yet they wiU not 
 let a Christian put his nose into an infant school if they can 
 help it. . . . — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 From the time of his son's death the Dean withdrew 
 himself more and more from public life. The thought 
 of resignation was constantly before his mind, and was 
 only kept back from more practical expression by his 
 unwillingness to leave to a successor the burden of a 
 lawsuit which had been set on foot under the auspices 
 of the Church Association upon the completion of the 
 reredos in St. Paul's. There was still the ready and 
 sympathetic response to the interests and work of others, 
 as the few detached letters which yet remain to be given 
 will show ; but for. himself and for what concerned his 
 own life the old spring and spirit had in great measure 
 passed away. 
 
 2d 
 
402 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 The following letter, which touches on the literary- 
 sympathies of the men of the Oxford Movement, has 
 reference to a letter of the late Master of Balliol to 
 Mr. Wilfred "Ward on the subject of the Oxford 
 Movement : — 
 
 To WrLFEBD "Ward, Esq. 
 
 Ettbnhbim, Tokqtjat, %1ncL Jomua/ry 1889. 
 I am sorry to hear what you say ahout Jowett's paper. 
 Of course I quite understand his disliking and despising the 
 Movement as reactionary, unphilosophical, superstitious, and 
 petty. But such statements as that the Tractarians were 
 ignorant of literature, and disparaged it, throws doubts on 
 his power of understanding things. Of whom does he speak ? 
 If he is thinking of the least cultivated and intellectual of 
 the party, it may be true, as it would be of any earnest 
 religious movement which has objects higher than mere 
 study and cultivation of literature. And of course; in the 
 days of the Movement, theology and the interests of moral 
 discipline were paramount to everything, literature included, 
 or politics, or social life, or athletics. But to say that Newman 
 or Keble were ignorant of literature — history, poetry, even 
 novels — or uninterested in it, or encouraged such ignorance 
 in their friends, is too extravagant. The mention of Coleridge 
 and Wordsworth is unfortunate. I should have said they 
 were the poets whom the Movement people thought most of. 
 Tennyson and Browning were too young then. I can say 
 for myself that I was very early a Ooleridgian (in poetry) 
 and a Wordsworthian, and I learnt my liking for Coleridge 
 and "Wordsworth from three very typical Movement men, — 
 Charles Marriott ; Moberly, once tutor of Balliol, afterwards 
 Bishop of Salisbury ; and F. Faber. "Whatever is to be 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 403 
 
 thought of them, they were certainly not ignorant of literature, 
 as literature existed in those days. I used to hear criticisms 
 on Wordsworth's " pantheism," but they were from Evangelical 
 friends. 
 
 Poor Tractarians ! Jowett. attacks them for want of 
 literature, another man for deficiency in Biblical exegesis, 
 another man for want of German pliilosophy, and ignorance 
 of Kant. It seems that they were expected to exhaust all 
 important subjects in the few years when they were mostly 
 fighting for their lives. It is odd that such a poor lot should 
 have been able to leave such a mark behind them. — Yours 
 very faithfully, E. W. Church. 
 
 A new phase in the ritual struggle, to which the 
 Dean's letters for the last fifteen years have so often 
 referred, was begun in the prosecution of the Bishop of 
 Lincoln in 1889 for ritual offences. Such a proceeding 
 was received with disapproval by many who were not 
 High Churchmen. Upon the invitation of the Dean of 
 Peterborough, Dr. Perowne, a Conference was held in 
 the Jerusalem Chamber between members of the High 
 Church and Low Church party for the purpose of 
 considering the present state of Chxu'ch matters, with 
 special reference to the prosecution of the Bishop of 
 Lincoln. It is to this meeting that the following letter 
 from Dean Church to his son-in-law refers : — 
 
 To De. Paget. 
 Ettenheim, Torquay, 3rd February 1889. 
 My dear Frank — I am glad you are going, but I wish 
 Bright was going with you. A great historical authority, 
 
404 DEAW church's LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 with Ms' facts at command, is lilse a strong force of movable 
 artillery in a battle. 
 
 It is difficult to see what practical result can come, at least 
 at once, from your meeting. But I am glad to bear of tbe 
 proposal, and I am especially glad tbat you are going, both 
 because of what you can say, and because you will have an 
 opportunity of judging of the men on the other side, which 
 you could not ordinarily have. ... Of course the difficulty 
 on both sides is the strength of their tails ; it is the difficulty 
 of all parties, from Coroyra to the Jacobins and the Parnellites. 
 And the strength of the tails arises from the fear and distrust 
 of each party towards the other, which makes them unwilling 
 to lose the support of the tails, even when the main body 
 dislikes the violence of the tails. And so the fatal circle 
 goes on. 
 
 After touching upon some reported instances of ex- 
 cessive and indefensible advance, the letter continues — 
 
 What really shelters [such things] is the practical impunity 
 which the legal prosecution of innocent and right things has 
 brought about. Men talk defiantly because law has been so 
 strained against the Eastward position, and vestments, and 
 the mixed chalice, that it has broken down under the strain. 
 Law, strange to say, in England, has actually broken down 
 under the over-strain. No one cares to observe it, because, 
 though' half a dozen men, perhaps, are made to suffer, no one 
 feels that it has the authority which law ought to have, as 
 the real voice of either Church or nation, and it is notoriously 
 disregarded far and wide by both sides. 
 
 The thing that everybody ought to try for is the restora- 
 tion of the position of law ; law to be used for* legitimate 
 purposes, to put down real mischiefs, not to worry and 
 
ni ST. PAUL'S 405 
 
 disturb things which, in a Church like ours, ought to be 
 left free. The immense majority, not only of English 
 clergymen but of High Churchmen, would be glad to have 
 a rule of law, would be glad to accept the discretion of the 
 Bishops, if they could be only sure that they^ would meet 
 with sincere and real justice, such as they expect to meet 
 in the civil administration of law. But both law, and, till 
 lately, Episcopal rule, have had such a doubtful record that 
 men find a difficulty in trusting them. 
 
 Dean Perowne's side is now the aggressive one, and has 
 been, ever since the breakdown of the Qorham suit If 
 anything is to be done it is they who must begin. Have 
 they the will or the power to stop these prosecutions ? The 
 Bishop of Liverpool surely is as obnoxious to all High 
 Churchmen as the Bishop of Lincoln can be to any Low ; 
 yet he has not been attacked, either for his ritual defects 
 or his extravagant pronouncement about the Eucharist. 
 Will they let us have as much "liberty of prophesying" 
 and liberty of worship as the Bishop of Liverpool claims, 
 without legal interference ? If they cannot, or wiU not, or 
 dare not, for fear of * * * and the Record, there is nothing 
 to be done. 
 
 I send you a note of * * *'b. You see his position. 
 He never can realise (1) that the Ritualists have been 
 unjustly treated, and that this of itself creates the difficulty 
 of restraining and protesting against their excesses, and (2) 
 that the worship of the Church and its forms have necessarily 
 advanced, in a younger generation, far beyond what to an 
 older generation seemed natural and sufficient. Let me 
 know how you fare. — ^Yours affectionately, E. W. C. 
 
 * The letter which follows is in acknowledgment of a 
 
406 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 paper read before a clerical society on the question — 
 " How far is the impression made by Robert Elsmere, and 
 the extent of its circulation, due to any failure on the 
 part of Christians as teachers ? " 
 
 To Lady "Wblbt. 
 
 Ettenhbim, Toeqttat, Xith February 1889. 
 
 Mt deae Lady Welby — Thank you for sending me your 
 paper. 1 How far your indictment is warranted I do not 
 know. We all generalise from our own point of view. But 
 I am quite content to take its warning to myself. 
 
 But — apart from scholars and people claiming independ- 
 ence — when the ordinary mass of us have to choose hetween 
 speaking of the Bible as the Church has hitherto done, and 
 the new language of criticism, it is fair to ask, " What dou 
 criticism say ? " And here it seems to me that while the 
 questions have been innumerable, and the answers also, the 
 crop of clear, certain, convincing answers has been a 
 strangely small one. Nothing seems to me more remarkable 
 than the contrast in our time between the certainties of 
 physical science and the contradictory and uncertain results, 
 the barrenness, as a whole, of criticism applied to the ques- 
 tions which most interest men. 
 
 I certainly know no one who is capable of revising the 
 received belief about the Old and New Testament. This 
 is a fact to be faced like other facts. Doubtless we are 
 in the midst of perplexities. They call for courage and 
 honesty, and they also caU for patience, which eminently 
 
 ^ " An Appeal from a learner to all who teach in the Name of 
 Christ." 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 407 
 
 goes witli real love of truth. " In patience possess your 
 soul," is a maxim for the intellect as well as for conduct. — 
 Yours very faithfully, R. W. Church. 
 
 Among the Dean's papers was found the rough draft 
 of a further letter to Lady Welby on the same subject, 
 which, with added emphasis, enjoins the need of caution 
 and patience : — 
 
 Ettbnheim, ToEQiTAT, 18th February 1889. 
 
 My dear Lady Welby — Your letter came all right. 
 Thank you for its kindness. But stiU I am not convinced 
 that the mass of Christian teachers — for of this the question 
 is — have committed a great sin in not plunging into the 
 strife of tongues, in which they are for the most part in- 
 competent to take a useful part, and in which the conclu- 
 sions arrived at have been so varying and contradictory. It 
 is not dishonest, as it seems to me, for a person to recognise 
 that there are questions which are beyond his force to 
 examine, and which he had better leave alone. A man 
 ought, if he is conscious that he cannot deal with them, to 
 leave them alone ; much more abstain from pressing them on 
 others. It may require as much courage to say, I don't 
 know, as to pronounce an opinion ; and much of our trouble 
 comes from incompetent handling on all sides. 
 
 Meanwhile the strife of tongues will go on merrily, 
 whether we like it or no. With such cavaliers as yoiir 
 correspondent i\, who wants to discuss Robert Elsmere at a 
 dinner party, and who feels " creepy " because a father told 
 a daughter that she had better not read it, the war is in no 
 danger of flagging. Polemics are in the air, in novels and 
 newspapers and magazines, and anybody may easily know 
 what is the current question and argument and conclusion. 
 
408 DEAN CHUKCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pakt 
 
 No one can prevent it, and we know too little to regret it. 
 But I venture to tHnk that we shall find mucli virtue one 
 day in patience. Patience does not mean inaction, and not 
 talking does not mean not thinking. Without being a 
 sceptic or an agnostic, one may feel that there are questions 
 in the world which never wUl be answered on this side the 
 grave, perhaps not on the other. It was the saying of an 
 old Greek, in the very dawn of thought, that men would 
 meet with many surprises when they were dead. Perhaps 
 one will be the recollection that when we were here, we 
 thought the ways of Almighty God so easy to argue about. 
 
 Nothing that I have said refers to those who have a call 
 to examine and to speak. I only look with alarm on any 
 attempt to press average people to be in a hurry to deal with 
 matters which are too hard for them. 
 
 I need your indulgence for this long story, and I am sure 
 I shall have it. — Yours very faithfully, E. W. Chdkch. 
 
 For the Dean the time of partings had set in in 
 earnest. Following on his son's loss had come the 
 death of Dr. Gray, and within a year that of Bishop 
 Lightfoot ; and he had now to receive the news of the 
 fatal illness of Lord Blachford, his closest and most 
 intimate friend since the days when they were Fellows 
 of Oriel together. 
 
 To Lord Blachpoed. 
 Deaneet, St. Paxil's, 26th September 1889. 
 My DBAS Blachfoed — Thank you very much for writ- 
 ing to me. There are things and times for which there are 
 no words ; as when you spoke to me at Blachford about our 
 
Ill ST. PAUL'S 409 
 
 friendsMp, and thanked me, What could I say when I 
 remembered the immense difference between your debt and 
 mine, and what life and everything wotdd have been to me 
 without all that you have done for me and been to me — 
 more than I can understand, though it is seldom out of my 
 mind. 
 
 It is a thing to be beyond anything thankful for to have 
 had such blessings, and for so long. May God help me to 
 accept the change, and use it as it ought to be used. The 
 thought of what is to take the place of things here is with 
 me all day long since Fred's departure ; but it is with a 
 strange mixture of reality and unreality, and I wish it did 
 me all the good it ought. Books are not satisfactory — at 
 least I have always found it so. It seems to me that there 
 is nothing equal to letting the Psalms fall on one's ears, till 
 at last a verse seems to start into meaning, which it is sure 
 to do in the end. And the Collects are inexhaustible. — Ever 
 yours affectionately, R. W. Chdech. 
 
 To Mrs. Asa Gray. 
 
 Deanery, St. Paul's, ISth October 1889. 
 My dear Mrs. Gray — I have to thank you for two 
 volumes ^ of most interesting reading. Besides the interest 
 of the subjects discussed, there is a special cachet in all Dr. 
 Gray's papers, great and small, which is his own, and which 
 seems to me to distinguish him from even his more famous 
 contemporaries. There is the scientific spirit in its best 
 form, imaginative, fearless, cautious, with large horizons, and 
 very attentive and careful to objections and qualifications ; 
 and there is besides, what is so often wanting in scientific 
 
 ^ /Scientific Papers of Asa Qray, selected by C. S. Sargent. 
 
410 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 writing, the human spirit, always remembering that besides 
 facts and laws, however wonderful or minute, there are souls 
 and characters over against ■ them of as great account as they, 
 in whose mirrors they are reflected, whom they excite and 
 delight, and without whose interest they would be blanks. 
 This combination comes out in his great generalisations, in 
 the bold and yet considerate way in which he deals with 
 Darwin's ideas, and in the notices of so many of his scientific 
 friends, whom we feel that he was interested in as men, and 
 not only as scientific inquirers. The sweetness and charity 
 which we remember so well in living converse, is always on 
 the look-out for some pleasant feature in the people of 
 whom he writes, to give kindliness and equity to his 
 judgments. 
 
 And what a life of labour it was ! I am perfectly aghast 
 at the amount of grinding work of which these papers are 
 the indirect evidence. And it makes one think of one's own 
 loitering life. 
 
 I shall always count it among the highest pieces of good 
 fortune in my life — and I have had many — that I was 
 allowed to come across him, and to have the honour and 
 delight of becoming his friend. 
 
 Once more, thank you very much for sending me these 
 memorials. The one regret that I have is that Lord Blach- 
 ford, who was so much attracted to him, is now too weak and 
 ill to become acquainted with them. He would have read 
 the history of Sequoia with the greatest interest. But he is 
 slowly fading away — with no pain — but with each week 
 leaving him weaker than the last. — Yours very faithfully, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 The reference with which the following letter opens 
 
m ST. PAULS 411 
 
 is. to the account of a visit paid to Cardinal Newman, 
 in his beautiful and serene old age, at Birmingham : — 
 
 To HIS Daughter. 
 
 Deanbet, St. Paul's, Lord Mayor's Day, 1889. 
 Dear M. — Your letter is an historical document. It may 
 prove to be the last intimate talk that any of us have had 
 with him. That gesture of his, raising his arm, brings back 
 old days as much as anything. The change I should say 
 that old age makes in respect to death is a distinct and remark- 
 able one. Of course at all times of life one may have the 
 quick and keen sense of its possibility, and of what it may 
 be. But in old age, it is like the move to something new 
 and unknown when one moves on a stage in a journey, or 
 leaves home for a new abode — not an abstract thought, but 
 a real move ; and at last it gets to be the only reality that 
 one has in view, and a reality of a diflferent kind from any- 
 thing else, because no question of possibility can arise as to 
 the fact of it. 
 
 " All passes with the passing of the days, 
 All but great Death— Death the one thing that is. 
 Which passes not with passing of the days." 
 
 I have been reading a most melancholy, but in parts 
 beautiful book, Edwin Arnold's poetisation of Buddhism, 
 The Light of Asia. But what a Light ! 
 
 I send the last report of Blachford. The severing of in- 
 tercourse, where intercourse was so lively and so continuous, 
 is very sad. — Ever yours aflfectionately, R. W. C. 
 
 Lord Blachford's death took place in November. In 
 his letter acknowledging the words of affectionate sym- 
 
412 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTEKS part 
 
 pathy with -whicli Dr. Liddon speaks of such a loss, the 
 Dean touches on the subject of Biblical criticism, to 
 which Dr. Liddon's letter had also referred : — 
 
 To Dr. Liddon. 
 
 Dover, 28th November 1889. 
 
 Mt dear Liddon — Thank you with all my heart for 
 your kind thoughts of me. There are few separations which 
 could so bring home to me the sense of irreparable loss. 
 
 It gives edge to such trials when troubles and anxieties, 
 such as you speak of, are added to them. Ever since I could 
 think at all, I have felt that these anxious and disturbing 
 questions would one day or other be put to us ; and that we 
 were not quite prepared, or preparing, to meet them effectively^ 
 To us Church people the general answer was so clear, that it 
 made us think that they wanted no further trouble ; and 
 they have been left outside our sphere of interest, to be dealt 
 with by a cruel and insolent curiosity, utterly reckless of 
 results, and even enjoying the pleasure of affronting religion 
 and religious faith. This was sure to be, from the intellectual 
 and moral conditions of our time ; but it seems to me that 
 our apologetic and counter criticism has let itself be too much 
 governed by the lines of the attack, and that we have not 
 adequately attempted to face things for ourselves and in our 
 own way, in order not merely to refute, but to construct 
 something positive on our own side. That, it seems to me, 
 is the great triumph of Bull's Defensio and of your Bamptons, 
 and we want something of the same kind which has not yet 
 been done for the Bible — ^what it really is — how it came to 
 be — who gave it us. That the difficulties about it have been 
 forced, not on arrogant and conceited "experts," claiming 
 
iti ST. PAUL'S 413 
 
 monopoly of all criticism, but on deep-tHnking and devout 
 Catholic believers like * * *, and have given him trouble, 
 seems to me to show that there is something unsatisfactory 
 in the present condition of things — though I am the last 
 person to know what ought to be done to meet it. All that 
 I can say for myself is, that for such men my trust is in 
 patience and sympathy. — Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 E. W. CnnKCH. 
 
 It is almost startling to turn from the last letter, and 
 from those which immedia,tely precede it, with their 
 record of partings and of the grave anticipation of death, 
 to so vigorous a bit of literary criticism as is contained 
 in the following account of the Dean's experience as a 
 student of Browning's poetry : — 
 
 To Stanley Withers, Esq. 
 
 DovBE, 9<A February 1890. 
 Dear Sir — It is as hard to explain how one got to like 
 Browning, as it would be (to me) to explain why I put 
 Beethoven above Mozart ; and why I cannot help confessing 
 Bach to be of a higher order than Handel, though Handel 
 has written things that seem to me Divine. I can only tell 
 you my experience. Of course I have known Browning, in 
 a way, for years ; but I never took to him. I had not 
 laughed at him, because I instinctively felt that he was a 
 person to stand in awe of ; and I hold it wrong to laugh 
 where there are evidences of truth and greatness. But I am 
 afraid I sometimes smiled at Browningites. Then came the 
 Ring and, the Book, and that, in the first place, satisfied a 
 longing that I had long had, to have the same set of facts told 
 
414 DEAN CHUECH'S LIFE AND LETTERS paet 
 
 and dealt with, not as they are in the usual novel or play — 
 that is, with one side assumed to be the true one — but as 
 they appear to all manner of different people, each with 
 their own prejudices and interests, and rules of conduct and 
 judgment, so as to have a little picture of the world judging 
 the facts before it ; and next, because I found in it such 
 piercing insight into human realities of thought and feeling, 
 into the depths and heights of the soul, such magnanimity, 
 such pervading sense of the awfulness and certainty of Divine 
 judgment. Of course there were things that I did not go 
 with, but they were as nothing to the great picture of right 
 and wrong as shown in real men and women. 
 
 Then I had young people round me who read, and 
 loved, and • defended Browning, and found in him what 
 their souls longed for ; and they showed me such poems as 
 Ben JEJ^a and Saul and the Death in the Desert, and Aht 
 Vogler ; and various things from Men and, Women ; and 
 Christmas Eve and Easter Day, and Bishop Blougram, and' 
 Mr. Sludge the Medium; and we read the Englishman in 
 Italy at Sorrento. Oddness was not the word for much of 
 all this ; the poet was writing, not in a grand robe, but in 
 his shirt-sleeves, and making faces at you. But through it 
 all was the deep sense of truth, lighted up with gleams of 
 beauty, such as did not belong to any poetry I knew. So I 
 thought I would try myself on him in earnest, and I got 
 Bordello. 
 
 Well, it was very hard and difficult — hard in making out 
 what the story meant, hard in grammar and construction, 
 hard in the learning exacted from the reader. But it was 
 plain that it was written for a reader not afraid of trouble, 
 and I accepted the condition. I did take a good deal of 
 trouble, and read it many times, in many moods, in many 
 
in ST. PAUL'S 415 
 
 ways, beginning at the end, or the middle, trying on it 
 various theories, reserving what I could not make out, which 
 was much, treasuring what I saw to be purpose, and 
 meaning, and beauty, and insight. And so I began to feel 
 as if the cloud was lifting, and though I do not pretend to 
 know all that was in the poet's mind in writing, I got to 
 feel that I had something, and something worth having. 
 And it was an introduction to the poet's method, to his 
 unflinching view of life, to his ever present sense (in which 
 he is like Shakespeare, and in a lower degree like our modem 
 Punch), of how much there is of tragic in the most comic, 
 and of comic in the most tragic. He has dealt too largely, 
 I think, lately, in the presentation of the absurd. I think 
 if I was beginning again I should begin with a serious study 
 of Paracelsus, and then the Selections. 
 
 Let your friend laugh his will, Browning certainly meant 
 him to laugh, and to look out for any absurdity he could 
 feel Let him be offended if he will, he will sometimes 
 have the right. But let him try to believe that Browning 
 has a poet's eye, the most comprehensive, the most searching, 
 the most minute, for the truths of our present existence and 
 our future hopes of any of our great names — Tennyson, 
 Wordsworth, Shelley. And let him understand that a man 
 who so thinks and so writes, is not to be understood except 
 by a reader who is not surprised at difficulties, and expects 
 to meet them in such themes as Browning's ; and that a 
 great poet requires trouble-taking readers, and wUl not open 
 his heart and his treasures to the idle or the scornful. — 
 Yours faithfully, R. W. Church. 
 
 The .death of Cardinal Newman took place in August 
 1890; and when at last the ending of the long life 
 
416 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt 
 
 came, it seemed, in spite of all reasonable expectation, 
 to have about it something of unexpectedness. 
 
 To the Dean, in particular, the news came with the 
 sense of a peculiar sorrow. Such a loss sent back his 
 thoughts to Oxford, and to the early days of com- 
 panionship and work together, whilst it summed up, 
 as it were, and completed in itself, the series of partings 
 which had preceded it. The intercourse between the 
 two friends — whether by correspondence, or by meetings 
 at Whatley, or in London, where the Cardinal came as 
 a guest to the Deanery, or in the Dean's visits to 
 Birmingham — had gone on unbroken since its renewal 
 in 1866. And in spite of the necessary changes which 
 their changed positions had brought about, the friend- 
 ship preserved to the end its distinct and peculiar 
 character. On Cardinal Newman's side there was still 
 the frank confidence and the reliance on sympathy and 
 counsel which had belonged to the old Oxford days ; 
 while by those near the Dean, it was always recognised 
 that Newman was a name apart, the symbol, as it were, 
 of a debt too great and a friendship too intimate and 
 complex to bear being lightly spoken of, or subjected 
 to the ordinary measures of praise or blame. Where 
 agreement was not possible, the Dean seldom allowed 
 himself any criticism save that which was implied by 
 silence. "I have not attempted a complete criticism 
 of Newman," he wrote to Lord Acton, to whom he 
 had shown the sheets of his book on the Oxford 
 Movement, " partly because I feel it beyond me, partly 
 because it is so against the grain." 
 
II ST. PAUL'S 417 
 
 Yet this reserve, whilst it guarded his words, seemed 
 to add fresh force and meaning to them when they 
 came. In the Oxford Movement, the portrait may he 
 plainly traced — conveyed as well indirectly and by what 
 is implied, as by the regular course of the narrative, but 
 penetrating and arresting throughout. In an article in 
 the Guardiom, written after Cardinal Newman's death, 
 the same intimate knowledge suggests a clue to an inner 
 unity of thought and aim that might be traced beneath 
 the outward and contradictory changes of position of 
 which the Apologia is the record. The following letter, 
 with its words of affectionate sympathy, will show, 
 under another aspect, something of the way in which 
 the Dean had handed on the knowledge which his long 
 friendship had won for him : — 
 
 Prom Dr. Talbot. 
 
 The Vicakaqe, Leeds, August 1890. 
 
 Mt dearest Dean — One word of loving sympathy with 
 you in your great loss. Ah ! what worlds of meaning and 
 associations and memory this event must carry with it 
 and bring up for you ; this event of which we have been so 
 long on the edge, and which yet hardly seemed as if it could 
 be. Was there ever a life of more sweetly and gravely 
 solemn power to thriU and touch one 1 What do we not 
 owe him t and what might have been ! It is wonderful to 
 think of him there ! 
 
 I don't know whether you will like me to say it — but it 
 is true that you have done more, so much more, than any 
 one to carry on and convey to us the touch of his special 
 2 E 
 
418 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS pabt - 
 
 spiritual and mental power : .that indefinable tMng. Forgive 
 me for saying so- much— but disoiplesbip to such a master 
 was no ordinary " talent," I suppose ; and it may be welcome 
 to know that many would bear witness (for I know that I 
 am only one of many) of your having used it for them. . . . 
 — Your very grateful and affectionate, E. S. T. 
 
 To De. Talbot. 
 Dbanert, St. Paul's, 15th August 1890. 
 
 My dear Warden — Most hearty thanks for your letter. 
 Only it does make me feel such a fool to be spoken of in 
 the same breath with him. It is a sad, dark time, in spite 
 of all that one thinks of and remembers, and all that one 
 sees of warm recognition. It is much more than mere 
 extiTuAus (MnahUur feelings, for it has been steadily and 
 intelligently growing, with its side fringe of depreciation 
 and dislike. But one feels now how unique he was, and 
 how, though he was so retired, his place is felt to be empty, 
 and no one to fiU it. But all this is very dark. It has 
 been a dismal year for me, though I should have felt it 
 more keenly if I had been younger. Now one only gets 
 comatose. 
 
 I should certainly have gone to the funeral if this bron- 
 chitis had not made it impossible. Frank and Helen are 
 going. Possibly Mrs. Grundy may snarl. But at marriages 
 and funerals people are allowed more liberty by that lady. 
 
 Once more, my dear "Warden, thank you very much for 
 your letter. One of the greatest of "talents" is having 
 friends. I wish I had employed mine as it ought to have 
 been employed. — Ever yours affectionately, B. W. 0. 
 
 A montli later came the news of Dr. Liddon's sudden 
 
ni ST. PAUL'S 419 
 
 death, and with. it the last loosening of the ties which 
 still held the Dean to public life. The -following letter, 
 commenting on the loss, forms a fitting conclusion to 
 the long and various correspondence of a lifetime : — 
 
 To THE Rev. Geoeqb S. Barkbtt. 
 
 Dbanbet, St. Paul's, 20th September 1890. 
 
 My dear Mr. Barrett — Thank you most sincerely for 
 your kindness in writing. 
 
 It is hard to believe that Liddon is gone — but he is. 
 How one begins to wonder at and long to know that un- 
 known place where, with our former characters and judg- 
 ments and likings, we are soon to be as actually as we are 
 here. What will there be to respond and answer to the 
 character we take with ua ? 
 
 I am very sorry to hear of your anxiety. Please let me 
 know how things go, and how your wife is. — ^Ever yours, 
 
 R. W. Church. 
 
 Little more remains to be told of the last months of 
 the Dean's life. The losses of the past few years had 
 been telling slowly but surely on health and vitality. 
 The death of Dr. Liddon, the friend and colleague of 
 nineteen years, had been a further unlooked-for blow, 
 and after it the failure of strength was rapid and with- 
 out recovery. No one who was present in St. Paul's on 
 the occasion of Dr. Liddon's funeral could have seen 
 unmoved the wasted, fragile figure of the Dean, or have 
 listened, without a sense of its pathos and significance, 
 to his broken and scarcely audible voice as it was heard 
 2e2 
 
420 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS part 
 
 for the last time in the cathedral of which he had been 
 so long the head, in the recital of the sentences of 
 committal to the grave. 
 
 Through the autumn the Dean stayed on in London, 
 able, in spite of increasing weakness, to carry on some- 
 thing of his accustomed life, working at the proofs of 
 his book on the Oxford Movement, and still sometimes 
 to be seen in his stall at the week-day services in the 
 cathedral. But the approach of winter fogs warned 
 him to seek a clearer air, and in the beginning of 
 November he went to Dover. At Dover he passed the 
 last few weeks that remained of life, waiting, as it 
 seemed to those near him, under the shadow of a great 
 awe, but with a patience, and gentleness, and simplicity 
 which knew no failure. His thoughts turned still to 
 his favourite books, which he had carried with him. 
 Homer and Lucretius, Dante and Wordsworth and 
 Matthew Arnold ; and he stiU followed with something 
 of his old keenness of interest the course of public 
 events. 
 
 Throughout its course he had watched with deep 
 anxiety the trial of the Bishop of Lincoln before the 
 Archbishop's Court at Lambeth. " This horrid Lambeth 
 trial haunts me," he had written a year before to his 
 son-in-law; "the only hope I have is that the Arch- 
 bishop may have sagacity enough and courage enough 
 to see that the safest course is the boldest, and dare to 
 revise the Privy Council rulings. If not, the phrase 
 ' Finis Polonise ' comes constantly into my head." The 
 delivery of the Archbishop's judgment took place in 
 
ni ST. PAUL'S 421 
 
 November, and its character and contents brought the 
 Dean the last flash of happiness before the end. " It is 
 the most courageous thing that has come from Lambeth," 
 he said, "for the last two hundred years." It seemed 
 to come to him with a touch of reassurance and con- 
 firmation in that steady trust in the English Church, 
 which would not let itself be overthrown by the dis- 
 asters of 1845, which had gained for him his years of 
 happy labour among the poor at Whatley, and which 
 had held on undismayed through the long conflict that 
 had marked the years of his work in London at St. 
 Paul's. 
 
 On the 10th of December, early in the morning and 
 quite quietly, the end came. 
 
 The Dean's love of Whatley had led him years before 
 to choose a spot in the quiet country churchyard there 
 for his last resting-place. And thither he was carried 
 from St. Paul's, after the early Communion in the north- 
 west chapel of the cathedral, where his coffin lay in the 
 midst, and the later funeral service, with its long pro- 
 cession, and solemn music, and gathering of many friends 
 and colleagues. And there, in the snow-covered church- 
 yard, beside the chancel of the village church, and amid 
 the farewell gathering of old friends and parishioners, 
 he was laid at rest. He had left a strict charge that no 
 memorial should be raised to him. Only one thing he 
 had asked ; — that a stone like that which he had chosen 
 to mark his son's grave at Hyferes — and which, though 
 he was spared the sorrow of knowing it, was also, within 
 three years' time, to mark the grave of his youngest 
 
422 DEAN church's LIFE AND LETTERS paet hi 
 
 daughter there — should mark his own grave at Whatley, 
 and that it should bear upon it the same lines from the 
 Dies Irce — • 
 
 Eex tremendse majestatis 
 
 Qui salvandos salvas gratis, 
 
 Salva me, fons pietatis. 
 
 Quffirens me sedisti lassus, 
 Eedemisti crucem passus, 
 Tantus labor non sit cassus. 
 
The following List of the Dean's writings does not 
 include articles or sermons which, have not since been 
 reprinted separately : — 
 
 Catechetical Lectobbs of St. Oteil of Jerusalem. 
 Translated by E. W. Church, with a Preface by J. H. 
 Newman. No. II. of the " Library of the Fathers." 
 Eivington, 1838. 
 
 Life of St. Wulstan. No. V. of "Lives of the English 
 Saints." Toovey, 1844. 
 
 Essays and Reviews. Collected from the " British Critic " 
 and "Christian Eemembrancer." J. C. Mozley, 1854. 
 
 Sebmons pbeached befobe the Unxveesity op Oxford. 
 MacmiUan, 1868. 
 
 Fiebt Book of Hookeb's Ecclesiastical Polity. Edited 
 with an Introductory Essay. Clarendon Press, 1868. 
 
 Life op St. Anselm. Macmillan, 1870. 
 
 Civilisation before Christianity. Two Lectures delivered 
 in St. Paul's. 18 7 2. 
 
 On some Influences of Christianity on National Chae- 
 AOTEE. Three Lectures delivered ia St. Paul's. 1873. 
 
 Saceed Poetey of Eaely Eeligions. The Vedas and the 
 Psalms. Two Lectures delivered in St. Paul's. 1874. 
 
 These seven lectures, together with the University Sermons 
 of 1868, have been republished in one volume under the 
 title, The Gifts. of Civilisation. Macmillan, 1880. 
 
424 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTEKS 
 
 The Beginnings of the Middle Ages. "Epochs of 
 Modern History." Longman, 1877. 
 
 Essay ON Dante. Republished, together with a Translation 
 of Dante's Latin Treatise, "De Monarchia," by F. J. 
 Church. MacmiUan, 1878. 
 
 Human Life and its Conditions. Sermons preached before, 
 the University of Oxford, together with three Ordina- 
 tion Sermons. MacmiUan, 1878. 
 
 Spenser. Macmillan's " Men of Letters " Series. 1879. 
 
 Bacon. „ „ „ 1884. 
 
 The Eelation between Church and State. Republished 
 from the "Christian Remembrancer" of 1850. Walter 
 Smith, 1880. 
 
 Discipline op the Christian Character. MacmiUan, 
 1885. 
 
 Advent Sermons, 1885. MacmiUan, 1886. 
 
 Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity. Edited by Rev. John 
 Keble. Seventh Edition, revised by E. W. Church, 
 Dean of St. Paul's, and Francis Paget, Canon of Christ 
 Church, and Regius Professor of Pastoral Theology. 
 Clarendon Press, 1888. 
 
 Miscellaneous Works. In Five Volumes. MacmiUan, 
 1888. 
 
 The Oxford Movement. MacmiUan, 1891. 
 
 Village Sermons. MacmiUan, 1892. 
 
 Cathedral and University Sermons. MacmiUan, 1892. 
 
 Village Sermons. Second Series. MacmiUan 1894. 
 
INDEX 
 
 AoTON, Lord, 400, 416 
 Agassiz, L., 182 
 Amiel, H. F., 377 
 Anselm, St., 43, 233, 236 
 Armstrong, Rev. N., 9 
 Arnold, E., Light of Asia, 411 
 
 Matthew, 229, 233 
 
 Dr., 37, 38 
 
 Baoon, Lord, 369, 376 
 
 Badham, Eev. C, 13 
 
 Bainton, Rev. &, 392 
 
 Barrett, Rev. G. S., 362, 419 
 recollections ty, 363 
 
 Bell, Cox, Rev. J., 388 
 
 Benson, Dr., Arohblshop of Canter- 
 bury, 305, 324, 368, 388, 396, 
 397, 420 
 
 Bernard, Mountague, 70 
 
 Bismarck, Prince, 231, 236 
 
 Bloxam, 27 
 
 Bodington, Rev. C, 303 
 
 Bossuet, 198 
 
 Bowen, Lord Justice, 397 
 
 Bowyer, 27 
 
 Brancker, Rev. T., 13 
 
 Bright, Dr., 403 
 
 Bristol Riots, 10 
 
 Browning, R., Poetry of, 402, 
 413 
 
 Buckle, Canon, 62, 63 
 
 Butler, Bishop, 17, 326, 329 
 
 Caetbb, Canon, 337, 339, 343 
 Cavendish, Lord F., 358 
 
 Lady F., 360 
 Church, F. J., 212, 221, 283, 361, 
 396 
 Rev. C. M., 54, 63, 73, 80, 81, 
 85, 103, 116, 128, 138, 146, 
 151, 198, 209, 220, 230, 241, 
 279, 280, 290, 303, 311, 359 
 J. D„ 1, 2, 3, 6 
 Mrs. J. D. (Mrs. Crokat), 2, 7, 
 11, 12, 14, 23, 24, 25, 41, 43, 
 50, 52, 53, 56, 59, 64, 67, 68 
 , Sir Richard, 2, 4, 72, 89, 148, 
 153, 248, 311 
 Mrs. R. W., 190, 191, 194, 195, 
 196, 236, 297 
 Churton, Rev. T. T., 32 
 Claughton, T. L., Bishop of St. 
 Albans, 15 
 P. C, Archdeacon of London, 
 16, 262 
 Clough, A. H., 171 
 Coleridge, Rev. H. J., 73 
 
 S. T., 17, 402 
 Coletti, Greek Prime Minister, 94, 
 
 95, 98, 127 
 Colvile, Miss, 231, 234 
 Constance, Council of, 331 
 Copeland, Rev. W. J., 176, 189, 
 
 201, 207, 343, 374 
 Copleston, Rev. W. J., 20 
 
426 
 
 DEAN CHURCH'S LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 Crokat, Miss, 132 
 Cyril, St., of Jenisalem, Transla- 
 tion of, 16 ■ 
 
 Dale, Eev. P., 335 
 Dalton, C. B., 13 
 Daman, Kev. C, 40 
 Dante, 160, 370, 378 
 Darwin, 183, 187, 236, 395 
 Dauteny, Dr., 40 
 Dayman, Eev. B. A., 32, 34 
 Disraeli, Lord Beaoonsfleld, 215, 
 
 320, 322, 334, 349 
 Dollinger, Dr. von, 292, 374 
 Donkin, Professor, 61 
 Dupanloup, Bishop of Orleans, 224 
 
 Bdbn, Eev. C. P., 27, 46, 48 
 Msmere, Robert, 406, 407 
 EnragM, Eev. R. W., 335 
 Erasmus, 331 
 
 Essays and Mmiews, 185, 188, 220 
 Everett, Mr., American Minister, 
 45 
 
 Fabee, Frederick, 25, 402 
 Forster, Et. Hon. W. E., 229, 358, 
 
 387 
 Fraser, Bishop of Manchester, 206, 
 
 213, 223, 304 
 Froude, J. A., 25 
 
 E. Hurrell, 378 
 
 Gladstone, Et. Hon. W. E., 56, 
 61, 201, 206, 216, 217, 227, 
 248, 249, 273, 281, 285, 292, 
 303, 311, 334, 348, 350, 358 
 
 365, 368, 386 
 
 Golightly, Eev. C. P., 27, 31, 32, 33 
 
 Goooh, 28 
 
 Gray, Dr. Asa, 169, 171, 181, 200, 
 204, 209, 212, 215, 218, 219, 
 221, 225, 227, 231, 234, 244, 
 281, 283, 284, 312, 320, 354, 
 
 366, 368, 369, 375, 392, 394, 
 395 
 
 Gray, Mrs. Asa, 399, 409 
 Green, Eev. S. F., 335 
 Greenhm, Dr. W. A., 61 
 Greg, "W. E., 313 
 Gregory, Canon, 242, 258, 262. 
 
 279 
 Griffiths, Eev. Thomas, 11, 32 
 Guardian, 69, 169, 168, 291, 349, 
 
 388, 417 
 Guillemard, Eev. H. P., 52, 64 
 
 Hall, Eobert, 9 
 
 Hamilton, Bishop of Salishury, 
 
 225 
 Hansen, Peter, 14, 32 
 Harding, tutor of Wadham, 14 
 Helps, Sir Arthur, 178 
 Hertford College, Principal of 
 
 317 
 Holland, Canon Scott, 249 
 Hook, Dean, 36 
 Hope, A. J, Beresford, 291 
 Homer, Eev. J. H., 162, 168, 231, 
 
 361, 400 
 Hughes, T., Judge, 236 
 Hnssey, Professor, 32 
 Hyman, 0. H. B., 13 
 
 IdeaZ of a Christian Church, W. 
 G. Ward, 60 
 
 Jackson, Dr., Bishop of London, 
 
 264, 324, 379, 381 
 Jelf, Dr., 37, 44, 46 
 John's, St., Dr. Wynter, President 
 
 of, 59, 218 
 Johnson, G. H. S. (of Queen's), 32 
 Johnson, Manuel, 172, 179, 183 
 
 Mrs. M., 165 
 Jowett, Master of Balliol, 61, 187, 
 
 402 
 
 Keble, Rev. J., 11, 14, 31, 69, 
 206, 289, 352, 388, 402 
 Warden of ; see Talbot 
 Kingsley, Canon, 201 
 
INDEX 
 
 427 
 
 Lake, Dean of Durham, 304, 327, Mules, Rev. PhUip, 15, 327 
 
 Lecky, W. E. H., 219 
 
 Le Verrier, 71, 179 
 
 Lewis, Eev. D., 45, 48 
 
 Liddon, Dr., 225, 242, 258, 261, 
 
 279, 288, 293, 336, 338, 412, 
 
 418, 419 
 Lightfoot, Bishop of Durham, 242, 
 
 258, 262, 306, 324, 408 
 Lincoln, Trial of the Bishop of, 
 
 403, 420 
 Little, Knox, Canon, 304 
 Liverpool, Bishop of, 405 
 Lloyd, 13 
 
 Loring, Charles, 213, 232 
 Lewder, Rev. Charles, 207 
 LoweU, J. E., 219, 354, 367 
 Luini, 297 
 
 MA.0ON00HIB, Rev. A. H., 207 
 Manning, Cardinal, 203, 224 
 ManseU, Dean of St. Paul's, 241, 
 
 259 
 Marriott, Eev. Charles, 11, 13, 16, 
 
 25, 47, 69, 175, 402 
 Massie, E., 13 
 Maurice, Rev. F. D., 17 
 Melvill, Canon, 253 
 Metzener, Miss, 2 
 Michell, Rev. Richard, 11, 12, 
 
 15, 18 
 Midhat Pasha, 303, 312 
 Milman, Dean of St. Paul's, 246, 
 
 253, 254 
 Moberly, Dr., Bishop of Salisbury, 
 
 11, 36, 41, 69, 185, 221, 234, 
 
 236, 342, 402 
 Moore, Eev. Aubrey, 387 
 Morpeth, Lord, 30 
 Morris, Eev. J. B., 27 
 
 Eev. T. E., 45, 48 
 Mozley, Eev. J. B., 20, 22, 50, 
 
 64, 70, 71, 160, 173, 174, 202, 
 
 212, 214, 223, 233, 241, 242, 
 
 321, 388 
 
 Newman, Cardinal, 14, 17, 22, 25, 
 26, 28, 37, 41, 61, 66, 68, 189, 
 201, 203, 208, 229, 241, 250, 
 252, 321, 375, 386, 393, 411, 
 415 
 
 Ninety Trad, 26, 28, 40, 41 
 
 Oakelbt, Eev. P., 15 
 Ogle, Dr. J. W., 395 
 Oriel, Provost of. Dr. Hawkins, 18, 
 34, 38, 39, 40, 41, 162, 223, 302 
 Oxford, Bishop of. Dr. Bagot, 35 
 
 Paoipioo, Don, 117 
 
 Paget, Dr., 403, 420 
 
 Palmer, Roundell (Earl of Sel- 
 borne), 216, 279 
 Rev. W. (of Worcester), 33, 36 
 
 Palmerston, Viscount, 201, 205 
 
 Pascal, 234, 377, 378 
 
 Pattison, Mark, Rector of Lincoln, 
 18, 274 
 
 Peel, SirR., 29,41, 43, 227 
 
 Penrose, P. C, 104, 118, 127, 
 129, 132 
 
 Perceval, Rev. A., 33, 36 
 
 Perowne, Dr., Bishop of Wor- 
 cester, 403, 405 
 
 Perthes, Frederic, 176 
 
 Pio Nono, 157 
 
 Priohard, J. C, 18 
 
 Proteus and Amadeus, 321 
 
 Public Worship Act, 287, 288, 
 289, 305, 335, 339 
 
 Pugin, Welby, 27 
 
 Pusey, Dr., 27, 34, 36, 49, 208, 
 220, 285, 289, 388 
 
 Richards, Dr., Rector of Exeter, 
 32, 34 
 
 Rogers, Sir Frederic (Lord Blach- 
 ford), 22, 26, 27, 28, 38, 44, 53, 
 70, 89, 127, 142, 154, 176, 
 178, 217, 229, 238, 290, 291, 
 
428 
 
 DEAN church's life AND LETTERS 
 
 299, 300, 302, 313, 321, 323, 
 334, 348, 349, 355, 356, 367, 
 378, 379, 391, 400, 408, 410 
 
 Routh, Dr., President of Magdalen, 
 34 
 
 Russell, G.'W., 345 
 
 SoOTT, R., 13 
 
 Soott, W., 173 
 
 Seager, C, 48 
 
 Seaton, Lord, 73, 154 
 
 Sewell, Professor, 27, 36, 48 
 
 Shaftestury, Earl of, 201 
 
 Signorelli, Luca, 383 
 
 Smith, Goldwin, 206, 214 
 
 Spedding, James, 334, 369, 376 
 
 Stainer, Sir J., 391 
 
 Stanley, Dean, 23, 25, 61, 65, 
 
 130, 202, 214, 248, 279, 311, 
 
 327, 335, 350 
 Stratford de Eedcliffe, Viscount, 
 
 311 
 Stulibs, Dr., Bishop of Oxford, 
 
 375 
 Symons ; see Wadham, Warden of 
 
 Tait, Archbishop, 31, 253, 293, 
 304, 310, 325, 337, 339, 343, 
 344, 381 
 
 Talbot, Rev. E. S., "Warden of 
 Keble,.307, 310, 331, 358, 360, 
 
 367, 370, 377, 380, 384, 386, 
 
 .387, 418 
 Temple, Dr., Bishop of Exeter, 
 
 219, 222, 226 
 Tooth, Rev. A,, 300, 307, 311 
 Twiss, Sir Travers, 15, 32 
 Tyndall, Professor, 215 
 
 Vbnablbs, Precentor, 287 
 Veto of 1845, 61, 64, 250 
 Vores, Tutor of Wadham, 11 
 Voysey, Rev. C, 342 
 
 Wadham, Dr. Symons, Warden 
 of, 11, 59 
 
 Walker, Dr., 312 
 
 Ward, W. G., 27, 28, 60, 63, 
 224, 386 
 
 Ward, Wilfred, 402 
 
 Welby, Lady, 327, 406, 407 
 
 Wellington, Funeral of the Duke 
 of, 161 
 
 Wilberforoe, Bishop, 33, 284, 352 
 
 Wilberforoe, H., 31 
 
 Wilson, Rev. H. B., 15, 32 
 
 Withers, Stanley, 413 
 
 Woollcombe, Rev. E., 47 
 
 Wynter ; see St. John's, Presi- 
 dent of 
 
 YouNQ Rev. Peter, 207 
 
 THE END 
 
 J'rmiedijyR.&R. Clark, Edinburgh. 
 
' II