CCCVI. TO THE REV. DR. HAWKINS.

Rugby, May 19, 1842. I beg your pardon for not having thanked you for your Sermon, which I had not only received, but read, and read with very great pleasure. I am delighted to find that on the Priest question, which I think is the fundamental one of the whole matter, we are quite agreed. And I am also not a little pleased that the Archbishop should have wished a sermon to be printed, containing, as I think, so much truth, and truth at this time so much needed. I will fix, as there seems no objection, Thursday, June 2, at one P.M., for my Lecture; and it may be called, if you please, "On the Life and Times of Pope Gregory the First, or the Great." The materials are very good and plentiful, if I had but more time to work at them. Thank you for accepting my Dedication. . . . Carlyle dined, and slept here on Friday last, and on Saturday we went over with my wife and two of my boys to Naseby field, and explored the scene of the great battle very satisfactorily.

CCCVII. TO MR. JUSTICE COLERIDGE.

Rugby, May 22, 1842.

I was not ignorant of what was going on about the Colonial Bishoprics; but you can well understand that all this movement wears to me rather a doubtful aspect. While I can fully enter into the benefits of giving a centre of government where there was none, and of having a clergyman of superior rank, and probably superior acquirements, made an essential part in the society of a rising colony, yet, on the other hand, I cannot but know that the principal advocates of the plan support it on far other principles;—that it is with them an enforcing their dogma of the necessity of Succession-Episcopacy to a true Church; that accordingly the paper, which you sent me, speaks of the Church" in America (U. S.) and of the various "sects" there,-language quite consistent in the mouths of High Churchmen, but which assumes as a truth, what I hold to be the very λaμπçóтατоv Leudos of a false system. I feel, therefore, half attracted and half repelled, doubting whether the practical administrative and social advantages to be gained are likely to outweigh the encouragement given to what I believe to be very mischievous error; and

66

while "dubitatio ista non tollitur," I cannot feel disposed to come to the practical conclusion of a subscription. Believe me, it is no pleasure to me to be obliged to stand aloof from a movement which has so much of good in it, and might be so purely and gloriously good, were it not

The time which he had originally fixed for his retirement from Rugby was now drawing near, and the new sphere opened to him in his Professorship at Oxford, seemed to give a fixedness to his future prospects, which would naturally increase his long-cherished wishes of greater leisure and repose. But he still felt himself in the vigour of life, and used to rejoice in the thought that the forty-ninth year, fixed by Aristotle as the acme of the human faculties, lay still some years before him. The education of his two younger sons was a strong personal inducement to him to remain a short time longer in his situation. His professorial labours were of course but an appendage to his duties in the school, and when some of the unforeseen details of the entrance on his new office had seemed likely to deprive him of the place which he had so delighted to receive," in good and sober truth," he writes to Archbishop Whately, "I believe that this and all other things are ordered far more wisely than I could order them, and it will seem a manifest call to turn my mind more closely to the great work which is before me here at Rugby." The unusual amount also of sickness and death which had marked the beginning of the school year, naturally gave an increased earnestness to his dealings with the boys. His latest scholars were struck by the great freedom and openness with which he spoke to them on more serious subjects, the more directly practical applications which he made of their Scriptural lessons,-the emphasis with which he called their attention to the contrast between Christian faith and love, and that creed of later Paganism, which made "the feelings of man towards the Deity to be exactly those with which we gaze at a beautiful sunset."" The same cause would occasion those

a MS. Notes of his lessons on Cic. Div. ii. 72.

606

Words which

every

lectio forge

to a Datu

was

reaso

Stam

ADV

coul

frequent thoughts of death which appear in his Chapel Ser mons, and in his more private life during this last year. There had never, indeed, been a time from his earliest manhood in which the uncertainty of human life had not been one of the fixed images of his mind; and many instances would recur to all who knew him, of the way in which it was constantly blended with all his thoughts of the future. "Shall I tell you, my tle boy," he once said to one of his younger children whose joyful glee at the approaching holidays he had gently checked; 'shall I tell you why I call it sad?"-and he then repeated to him the simple story of his own early childhood; how his ow father had made him read to him a sermon on the text, "Bos not thyself of to-morrow," on the very Sunday evening before s sudden death:- "Now cannot you see, when you talk wi such certainty about this day week and what we shall do, why it seems sad to me?"-But it was natural that such expression should have been more often remarked by those who hear them during this year, even had they not been in themselve more frequent. It is one of the most solemn things I do he said to one of his children, who asked him why, in the tit page of his MS. volume of Sermons, he always wrote the d only of its commencement, and left a blank for that of its c pletion,-"to write the beginning of that sentence, and tho pu that I may perhaps not live to finish it." And his recollected the manner in which he had announced to the Do of the before morning prayers, the unexpected death of one number: "We ought all to take to ourselves these reper warnings; God, in His mercy, sends them to us. I say in mercy, because they are warnings to all of us here, we o all to feel them as such,"-adding emphatically," and I sure I feel it so myself."

it

Reg

att

he

day

the

bi

to

Whatever might be the general interest of this closing p was deepened during the last month by accidental causes, which it is not necessary to enter, but which became the m of drawing forth all the natural tenderness of his chant more fully than any previous passage of his life. There something in the added gentleness and kindness of his manner and conversation,-watching himself, and recalling

:

!

words, if he thought they would be understood unkindly,which, even in his more general intercourse, would make almost every one who saw him at that time connect their last recollections of him with some trait of thoughtfulness for others, and forgetfulness of himself; and which, to those nearest and dearest to him, seemed to awaken a consciousness, amounting almost to awe, of a visible growth in those qualities which are most naturally connected with the thought of another world. There was something also in the expressions of his own more personal feelings,-few and short as they ever were, but for that reason the more impressive when they did escape him,—which stamped them with a more than usual solemnity. Such were some of the passages in a private diary, which he now comnenced for the first time, but not known till after his death by ny, except her who alone shared his inmost thoughts, and who ould not but treasure up in her memory every word connected ith the beginning of this custom. It was about three weeks efore his end, whilst confined to his room for a few days by an ttack of feverish illness, to which, especially when in anxiety, e had always from time to time been liable, that he called her > his bed-side, and expressed to her how, within the last few ays, he seemed to have "felt quite a rush of love in his heart wards God and Christ;" and how he hoped that "all this ight make him more gentle and tender," and that he might ot soon lose the impression thus made upon him; adding, at, as a help to keeping it alive, he intended to write something in the evenings before he retired to rest.

es

ally

became

of his

From this Diary, written the last thing at night, not daily, t from time to time in each week, it has been thought right sher give the following extracts:

May 22.-I am now within a few weeks of completing my fortythis enth year. Am I not old enough to view life as it is, and to conleptal plate steadily its end,-what it is coming to, and must come to, what all things are without God? I know that my senses are on very eve of becoming weaker, and that my faculties will then n begin to decline too,-whether rapidly or not I know not-but I will decline. Is there not one faculty which never declines,

life

and rea

which is the seed and the seal of immortality; and what has become of that faculty in me? What is it to live unto God? May God open my eyes to see Him by faith, in and through His Son Jesus Christ; may He draw me to Him, and keep me with Him, making His will my will, His love my love, His strength my strength, and may He make me feel that pretended strength, not derived from Him, is no strength, but the worst weakness. May His strength be perfected in my weakness.

Tuesday evening, May 24.-Two days have passed and I am mercifully restored to my health and strength. To-morrow I hope to be able to resume my usual duties. Now then is the dangerous

moment.

. O gracious Father, keep me now through thy Holy Spirit; keep my heart soft and tender now in health and amidst the bustle of the world: keep the thought of Thyself present to me as my Father in Jesus Christ: and keep alive in me a spirit of love and meekness to all men, that I may be at once gentle and active and firm. O strengthen me to bear pain, or sickness, or danger, or whatever Thou shalt be pleased to lay upon me, as Christ's soldier and servant; and let my faith overcome the world daily. Strengthen my faith, that I may realize to my mind the things eternal-death, and things after death, and Thyself. O save me from my sins, from myself, and from my spiritual enemy, and keep me ever thine through Jesus Christ. Lord, hear my prayers also for my dearest wife, my dear children, my many and kind friends, my household,-for all those committed to my care, and for us to whom they are committed. I pray also for our country, and for Thy Holy Church in all the world. Perfect and bless the work of Thy Spirit in the hearts of all Thy people, and may Thy kingdom come, and Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven. I pray for this, and for all that Thou seest me to need for Jesus Christ's sake.

Wednesday, May 25.-Again, before I go to rest would I commit myself to God's care, through Christ, beseeching Him to forgive me for all my sins of this day past, and to keep alive His grace in my heart, and to cleanse me from all indolence, pride, harshness, and selfishness, and to give me the spirit of meekness, humility, firmness, and love. O Lord, keep Thyself present to me ever, and perfect Thy strength in my weakness. Take me and mine under Thy blessed care, this night and evermore, through Jesus Christ.

Thursday, May 26. . . .. O Lord, keep Thyself present to