T' ■-'/ 
 
 ETTERS TO A FRIEND 
 
 CONNOP THIRLWALL 
 
 LATE LORD BISHOP OF ST. DAVIDS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 THE VERY REV. 
 ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, U.D. 
 
 DEAN OF WESIMINSTER 
 
 LONDON 
 RICHARD BENTLEY & SON 
 
 PUBLISHERS IN ORDINARY TO HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN.
 
 tONDON : 
 PRIKTKD BT ,1 S. VIRTUE AND CO., LUirTBI), 
 CITY KOAD.
 
 
 TO TUE BELOVED MEMORY 
 
 OF A WIDELY HONOURED, DEEPLY LAMENTED FATHER, 
 
 AND TO A MOST DEAR SISTER, 
 
 ©i^esE Hcttcrs, 
 
 WRITTEN BY THEIR FRIEND AS MUCH FOR THEIR INTEREST 
 AS FOR HERS TO WHOM THEY WERE ADDRESSED, 
 
 mt Bctiicntctf, 
 
 IN THE BONDS OF THAT AFFECTION WHICH UNITED, 
 AND UNITES, THEM ALL. 
 
 i 1 ^^"7-^^^Q 
 
 J_ JL.f^'^: •' >N^ C^j. (i_y
 
 7
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 The following Letters are selected from a correspondence 
 of ten years with a young friend, one of a Welsh family 
 in Avhich Bishop Thirl wall took great interest. It was felt 
 that they supply a side of the Bishop's character which was 
 not sufficiently appreciated in his lifetime, and which the 
 correspondence with his own contemporaries does not 
 adequately represent. They disclose the kindly, genial 
 heart which lay beneath that massive intellect ; they show 
 the tender regard for the sufferings of those with whom 
 he was brought into contact by the circumstances of 
 ordinary life ; they exhibit the playful affection for the 
 tame creatures which formed almost part of his house- 
 hold ; they are full of the keen appreciation which he felt 
 for all the varying beauty of the natural seasons ; they 
 show the immense range of his acquaintance with the 
 lighter as well as the graver forms of literature ; they 
 indicate the enthusiastic delight which he, no less than 
 his correspondent, took in the language and traditions 
 of the Welsh diocese and country which he had adopted 
 as his own ; they reveal also some of his innermost 
 thoughts and feelings on the great moral and religious 
 questions of all time, concerning which in his published 
 writings we have only the external and judicial expression. 
 
 I have been requested, by those to whom the publica-
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 tion of the two volumes of the 13islio[)'s Correspondence 
 lias been intrusted, to add, by way of preface, tlie remarks 
 made concerning his character and career on the occasion 
 of his interment in Westminster Abbey. The discourse 
 from which they are taken was an endeavour to set forth 
 the religious use of wisdom based on the words from the 
 Book of Job, " Where shall wisdom be found, and where 
 is the place of understanding ?" 
 
 A few sentences of the sermon have been omitted, and 
 a few added. 
 
 It will be understood that the sermon dealt only with 
 the more general aspects of his career. My personal 
 ac(piaintanco with him was too late and too slight to 
 justify any detailed ciiticism or eulogy. 
 
 A. P. S. 
 
 Let me freely speak to you of this patriarch of our 
 national Church in his two capacities of a universal scholar 
 and of a wise ecclesiastical statesman. 
 
 Of that thirst for knowledge in all its parts of which 
 the Bible speaks, of the mastery of all ancient and modern 
 learning, few, if any, in his time have been more wonder- 
 ful examples than he who from his eleventh till his 
 threescore and eighteenth year was always gathering in 
 fresh stores of understanding. Of him, as of Solomon, it 
 might be said, " Thy soul covered the whole earth." There 
 was hardly a civilised language which he liad not explored 
 both in its structure and its literature. He was the chief 
 of that illustrious group of English scholars who first 
 revealed to this country the treasures of German research, 
 and the insight which that research had opened into the 
 paysterious origin of the races, institutions, and religions
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 of mankind. Many arc now living who never can forget 
 the moment when, in the translation of "Niebuhr's llonian 
 History," they for the first time felt that they had caught 
 a glimpse into the dark corners of the ancient times which 
 preceded the dawn of history. There are many who 
 gathered their early knowledge of the Grecian world from 
 the first history which brought all the stores of modern 
 learning to bear on that glorious country and its glorious 
 people, and which still, after all that has been done, re- 
 mains the only history filled with the continuous sense of 
 the unity of its marvellous destinies in their decline as 
 well as in their rise. Many there are who have never 
 lost the deep impression left by the attempt to trace 
 the refined and solemn irony of ancient tragedy and human 
 fate ;""' many also who, in his masterly analysis of the 
 composition of the Gospel narratives, first gained an 
 insight at once alike into the complicated structure 
 and the profound substance of the sacred volume, t Such 
 a man is a boon to a whole generation, both by the 
 example of his industry and by the light of his teach- 
 ing. Even to the very last, even in old age, in 
 blindness, in solitude, he continued with indomitable 
 energy the task of acquiring new knowledge, of adding 
 another and another finish to the never-ending education 
 of his capacious mind ; becoming, as he said when at 
 the age of seventy-six he released himself from the 
 cares of his diocese, becoming a boy once again, but a 
 boy still at school, still growing in wisdom and under- 
 standing. Hear it, laggards and sluggards of our laxcr 
 days ; hear it, you who spend your leisure in the things 
 and the books that perish with the using ; hear and profit 
 by the remembrance that there has been one amongst us 
 to whom the word of knowledge came in all its force antl 
 
 * Essay on "The Irony of Sophocles." See "Renuiins," p. G. 
 t Sec Introduction to Schleicrmacher's " Essay on St. Luke."
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 beauty, to wliom idleness, ignorance, and indifference were 
 an intolerable burden, to whom the acquisition of a new 
 language or a new literature was as the annexation of a 
 now dominion, or the invention of a new enjoyment. 
 Well may he Test amongst the scholars of England 
 beneath the monument of Isaac Casaubon, whom we have 
 of late learnt to know again '"* as if he had lived in our days, 
 and in the grave of his own famous schoolfellow,! of whose 
 labours in the same field of Grecian history he once said, 
 with a rare union of simple modesty and noble disinterested- 
 ness, that to himself had been given the rare privilege of 
 seeing the work which had been the dream of his own life 
 superseded and accomplished by a like work on a larger 
 scale, and in more finished proportions, by the beloved and 
 faithful friend of his early youth. 
 
 It may be disappointing to some that this prodigious 
 acquisition of knowledge was not accompanied by a 
 corresponding productiveness. With the exception of 
 the few indications we have given, his learning perished 
 with him. The light which he contributed to theology 
 was far less brilliant and permanent than that which had 
 come from Arnold or from Milman, or from some of the 
 great German theologians whom he so highly honoured. 
 Still there was a form of wisdom which does not lie buried 
 with him in that narrow vault. There is an old English 
 word which has now somewhat changed its meaning, 
 but which in former times was applied to one of our 
 greatest divines, Richard Hooker — the word "judicious." 
 We now use it in the restricted sense of "cautious" 
 or "sagacious." But in its proper meaning it signified 
 exactly that quality of judgment, discretion, discrimina- 
 tion, which is the chief characteristic of the biblical 
 virtue of wisdom. Hardly, perhaps, has there been any 
 
 * Memoir of Isaac Ciisaiihon, by Mark ratUsoo. 
 t George Grote, historian of Greece.
 
 TREFACE. XI 
 
 English tlioologinn, raroly even any professional Judgi;, 
 to Avliom this epithet, in this its true sense of judicial, 
 judge-like, was more truly ap[)licable than to the serene 
 and powerful intellect that has just passed away. In 
 that massive countenance, in that measured diction, in 
 that deliberate argument, in those weighty decisions, it 
 seemed as though Themis herself were enshrined to utter 
 her most impressive oracles ; as if he Avas a living monu- 
 ment on whitch was inscribed " Incorrupta fides, nudaquc 
 Veritas ; " * as if he had absorbed into his inmost being 
 the evangelical precept, "Judge not according to the 
 appearance, but judge righteous judgment." It must 
 indeed be allowed that there were times when his voice 
 failed to be raised in emergencies Avhich seemed to demand 
 it — that there were occasions when even in his firm 
 hand the scales of justice trembled from some unexpected 
 bias — when his clear vision was dimmed for a time by 
 a glamour Avhich fascinated him the more because its 
 magical influence was unlike to anything in himself — 
 when his majestic serenity was ruffled by the irritation of 
 some trivial contradiction or small annoyance. But for 
 the larger part of his career the even current of his 
 temper, the piercing accuracy of his insight, the calm dig- 
 nity of his judgment, even when we might differ from 
 its conchisions, remained immovable ; and thus, when he 
 rose to the Episcopal office, it almost seemed as if in 
 this respect it had been created for him — so naturally did 
 he from it, as from a commanding eminence, take an over- 
 sight of the whole field of ecclesiastical events — so entirely 
 did his addresses to his clergy assume the form of judicial 
 utterances on each of the great controversies which have 
 agitated the Church of England for the last thirty years, 
 and thus become the most faithful as well as impressive 
 yecord of that eventful time. Such a character inscnsiblv 
 * The expression of the late Archdeacon Moore.
 
 Xll PEEFACE. 
 
 acted as a constant check on extravagance, a silent rebuke 
 to partisanship, a valuable witness to "the entire dominion 
 which prudence has " (to use the words of Burke) " over 
 every exercise of power committed to its hands," " espe- 
 cially " (again to use the words of the same great states- 
 man) "when we have lived to see prudence and con- 
 formity to circumstances wholly set at nought in our late 
 controversies, as if they were the most contemptible 
 and irrational of all things." To have beheld such 
 a judgment-seat established amongst us is a warning 
 and a blessing for which we shall often crave in vain 
 now that its oracle is dumb, but which it is for us to 
 reproduce, so far as we can, by the memory of the extent 
 to which we once admired it, and of the strength where- 
 with it strengthened us. 
 
 And there is yet this further lesson : — " Where was it 
 that this wisdom was found, or where was the place of this 
 wonderful understanding ? " It was on a throne where 
 experience has often told us that it is missing — in a place 
 where we are often justly warned not to look for it. It 
 was in that sacred calling which, by the very reason of its 
 sacredness, is exposed more than the other great profes- 
 sions of our country to the fits of sudden fanaticism, to 
 the hurricanes of well-intentioned panics, to the convul- 
 sions of blind party spirit. It was on the heights of that 
 Episcopal order which, by the very reason of its eminence, 
 often becomes the prey of timid counsels, unequal mea- 
 sures, and narrow thoughts, but which, when worthily 
 occupied and worthily used, gives room and scope as no 
 other office, either in Church or State, to the exercise of 
 that width of view and impartiality of judgment of which 
 " the wisdom " of the Bible is the divine expression. 
 
 When we sometimes hear it said that in our day there 
 arc fewer attractions for the nobler intellects and the more 
 gifted spirits to enter the sacred ministry — when we hear
 
 PREFACE. XIU 
 
 it rocfrctfully said that those who enter often become 
 demoralised in tlieir highest mental aspirations by taknig 
 holy orders — let us ask what was the experience suggested 
 by the career which is now closed. He had been destined 
 to another lofty calling — that of the Bar — Avhere, if any- 
 where, some of his most peculiar gifts might have had the 
 fullest development and gratified the highest ambition. 
 But he found that in the ministrations of the Church of 
 England there was a field for a yet larger development of 
 his moral and intellectual stature — for the exercise of a 
 yet nobler aspiration. If from any cause since that time 
 the calling of an English clergyman has become less con- 
 genial to such characters — if its sphere has become more 
 contracted — if the difficulties placed in the way of em- 
 barking upon it have increased, or the inducements to 
 enter upon it have diminished — it is Avell for all those 
 who are concerned to look to it, for few graver evils 
 can befall a Church, no more formidable prospect threaten 
 its dignity and its usefulness. And as we so regard 
 the question, let us think once and again Avhat were 
 the advantages which he brought to the ministry and 
 hierarchy of the English Church, and Avhat were the advan- 
 tages which it offered to him. He brought to it the 
 assurance that in the ranks of its clergy there was no 
 reason why the love of truth and of learning should not 
 abound, why critical inquiry should not pursue its onward 
 course, why the intellectual and spiritual elements of 
 Christianity should not constantly prevail over those 
 which are material and formal. There are those who 
 remember that when he was raised by a courageous 
 statesman * to a seat in the English Episcopate, while 
 
 * See ToiTPns's " Life of Lord Blelboiimc." It is interesting to observe in 
 this account that there was at least one eminent clergyman who did not 
 share the panic occasioned by Bishop Tliirlwall's nomination. Tlie Primato 
 had assured Lord IMolbournc that he .saw no cause of objection in the pre- 
 face to the translation of ychleiermachcr's Essay. That Archbishop llowley
 
 XIV rilEFACE. 
 
 Some trcmblod with alarm at the entrance of tliis bold 
 intruder, as he was deemed, others confidently predicted 
 that this intrusion, if so it were, would give to the Church 
 of England a new lease of enduring life. Have not the 
 prophets of hope been justified in their anticipation of 
 good ten times more than the prophets of fear in their 
 anticipations of evil ? Are there any now from one end 
 of the Church to the other who are not proud of the man 
 who has thus adorned their calling, and ennobled the 
 career of the humblest curate of the most secluded ham- 
 let ? Are there any who would not feel that English 
 Christianity and English literature Avould have been the 
 poorer if Connop Thirl wall had become a mere successful 
 lawyer, or remained a mere private scholar, instead of 
 giving by his presence in the Episcopate an example and 
 a guarantee that liberal sentiment, even-handed justice, 
 free research, had their proper sphere in the high places 
 of the English Church ? He stood not alone in that 
 former generation of noble students in those days which 
 " they that are younger now have in their derision." 
 Others there were, perhaps, in their own Avay, as gifted 
 as he, and who certainly left a deeper and wider 
 impress on the writings and the actions of our time, 
 and who were less restrained in their utterances by 
 caution or reticence. But he of all that memorable band 
 who found their natural calling in the ministry of the 
 
 sliould not have been startled by the boldness of that keen criticism 
 is in keeping with the like freedom of thought which induced him to 
 receive Arnold at ordination, in spite of the hesitation to admit not only the 
 Pauline authorship, but the canonicity of the Epistle to the Hebrews, and 
 which caused him to acquiesce without remonstrance in Lord John Russell's 
 nomination of i)r. Hampden to the See of Hereford. It is true that this 
 sagacious discernment of the lawfulness of such free inquiry in religious 
 mattets was combined -u-ith a caution which might easily be mistaken for 
 timidity ; and the fear of giving offence to the clergy sometimes overbore 
 even his characteristic courtesy. But it is worth recalling these traits because 
 they have been often overlooked, and because they imply a largeness of mind 
 which, if it had but found fuller scope in action, whether in his own or later 
 times, might ha\ e saved the Cliurch from many dangers and inconsistencies.
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 Englisli Chiircli was the only one, at least in England, 
 that mounted to its highest ranks, and visibly swayed 
 its counsels. That long and honoured existence bids 
 us not to despair of our Church or of our Faith ; 
 but it also warns us to keep them at least on the 
 same level that made his presence amongst us possible. 
 It may be that, whatever betides, there will always 1)C an 
 inducement for the simple enthusiast, the stirring adminis- 
 trator, the eager partisan, the zealous dogmatist, to take 
 a place in the ranks of the evangelists or pastors of the 
 Church. But if there arc to be amongst the clergy 
 pillars of the House of Wisdom like to him that is gonc^ 
 there must be something more than this. It is not too 
 much to say that one main attraction, which drew him 
 and like characters to the sacred ministry of our Church, 
 was its national character, and therefore comprehensive, 
 varied, and onward destiny. To nothing short of this, to 
 no meaner service, beneath the dogmatic or ceremonial 
 yoke of no lesser communion, would the giants of those 
 days have bowed their heads to enter. Other advantages, 
 moral or material, may be furnished by the separated, 
 disintegrated, or exclusively ecclesiastical sects or churches 
 of our own or other countries. Many are the excellent 
 gifts po&sessed by our Nonconformist brethren which avc 
 lack, and perhaps shall always lack. But they them- 
 selves w^ould confess Avith us that such as he of whom avc 
 speak would have found, and could have found, no abiding- 
 place in their ranks. And only, or almost onl}', in a 
 national Church, where the permanent voice of the nation, 
 and not only a fraction of it, takes part in the appoint- 
 ment of its highest officers — was such an appointment 
 possible, or at least probable, as that which gave to us 
 the prelate whom we all now alike delight to honour 
 and mourn to lose. 
 
 Such was the public career of him whose mortal remains
 
 XVI PREFACE. 
 
 are to be laid beneath this roof. Some perhaps will lament, 
 with a natural regret, that the prelate who, of all its occu- 
 pants, has most conspicuously adorned through a long 
 Episcopate the ancient see which reaches back to the earliest 
 beginnings of British Christianity, should not have found 
 his last resting-place in the loneliness and grandeur of his 
 own cathedral of St. David — in the romantic solitude of that 
 secluded sanctuary — beside the storm-vexed promontory 
 that overlooks the western sea. But it was also a natural 
 feeling, in which his own clergy and people proudly share, 
 that one whose fame belonged not to a single diocese, but 
 to the whole Church of England and to the whole world of 
 letters, should claim his rightful place amongst the scholars 
 and philosophers of our country. And in these days 
 there is a satisfaction in the thought that at least one 
 great Churchman by general consent found his way into 
 the innermost circle of the sages of our time — that amidst 
 the cynical and critical analysis of our modern philosophy, 
 there was at least one Greek to whose lofty intellect the 
 reliofion of Jesus Christ was not foolishness — and amidst 
 the craving for scholastic distinction and oratorical cere- 
 monial exaggeration which marks our modern theology, at 
 least one reverent believer to whom its reasonable service, 
 its unfathomed depth, its wide-reaching charity, its unadorned 
 simplicity, were not stumbling-blocks, but attractions. 
 
 And this brings me to one concluding remark. I 
 have hitherto spoken only of the mental grandeur of him 
 whom we mourn. It is this chiefly which concerns us on 
 this occasion. It is the vindication of the religious mission 
 of learning and wisdom that I have thus briefly put 
 before you. Yet those who knew the man in his inner 
 life knew well that within that marble intellect, behind 
 that impassive severity, beneath that ponderous eloquence^ 
 there was a moral fire Avhich warmed and fused the 
 oranite mass through which it breathed. That was no
 
 PllEFACE. XVU 
 
 mean sense of duty which constrained him, when in 
 middle life he entered on the Ej)iscopate, to throw his 
 vast linguistic power into the difficult, though to 
 him grateful task of learning, as no English bishop 
 since the Conquest had ever learnt, the language of his 
 Cambrian diocese. That was no inconsiderable effort of 
 moral courage and far-sighted justice which led him on 
 one occasion in his earlier years to vindicate, amidst 
 obloquy and opposition,"" the solution of a great acade- 
 mical difficulty which, since that time, all have accepted ; 
 or, on another occasion in his later years, to vindicate 
 the endeavour to remedy a great ecclesiastical grievance 
 by a solution t which by the factious and fanatical rivalries 
 of modern politics had been cast aside, but which 
 all eminent statesmen of a former generation had com- 
 bined in urging. That was no cold or callous heart 
 which found its chief earthly comfort in the faithful affec- 
 tion of those who grew up around him as his own children 
 and grandchildren, receiving instruction day by day from 
 the boundless stores of his knowledge, and attracted by 
 his paternal care. That was no proud or hard spirit 
 which lived a life of such childlike simplicity, with the 
 innocent enjoyment of his books or of his dumb creatures, 
 or in steady obedience to the frequent call of often irksome 
 duty, or in humbly waiting for his heavenly Master's call. 
 It was an undesigned but impressive coincidence that 
 during the last days of his life, when blindness had closed 
 his eyes, he employed his vacant hours by translating 
 (through successive dictations) into Latin, Greek, Ger- 
 man, Italian, Spanish, French, Welsh, the striking 
 apologue which tells us that, " as Sleep is the brother 
 of Death, thou must be carefid to commit thyself to 
 
 * The Admission of Dissenters to the Universities. 
 
 t The plan of concurrent endowment for the Irish Churches. See 
 "Eemains,"p. 243. 
 
 A
 
 XVlll PREFACE. 
 
 the care of Him who is to awaken thee both from the 
 Death of Sleep and from the Sleep of Death," and 
 which tells us further that " the outward occurrences 
 of life, whether prosperous or adverse, have no more 
 effect than dreams on our real condition, since virtue 
 alone is the real end and enduring good." These words, 
 thus rendered with all the energy of his unbroken mind 
 into those seven languages, contain by hazard, as I have 
 said, yet surely not without significance, the two simple, sub- 
 lime elements of religion — the two conclusions which, not 
 only in those closing hours, but in the fulness of his life, 
 penetrated his reason and his faith : unwavering reverence 
 for the supreme goodness of God, unshaken conviction of 
 the true grandeur of goodness in man. Suddenly the 
 summons came. With one call for him who had been as 
 his own son on earth — with one cry to his Lord in heaven, 
 who to his upward gaze seemed yet more visible and yet 
 more near — he passed, as we humbly trust, from the death 
 of sleep, and from the sleep of death, to the presence of 
 that Light in which he shall see light. 
 
 " Where shall wisdom be found, and where is the place 
 of understanding ? " 
 
 " Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to 
 depart from evil is understanding." 
 
 On the stone which covers the grave of the two illustrious scholars and 
 friends in Westminster Abbey are these words : — 
 
 GEORGE GROTE, 
 
 Historian of Greece. 
 
 Born November 17, 1794. Died June 18, 1871. 
 
 In aeterna memoria erit Justus. 
 
 CONNOP THIRLWALL, 
 
 Scholar, Historian, Theologian. 
 
 For Thii-ty-four years Bishop of St. David's. 
 
 Born February 11, 1797. Died July 27, 1875. 
 
 Cor sapiens et intelligcns ad discenendum judicium. 
 
 Gwyn ci fyd. 
 
 [White is his world.]
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 1864. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Cornwall — EtjTnology of Scilly — Bishop Thirlwall ordained a Driiid — 
 His Interest in Welsh Legends — Merlin's Prophecies — Bonover 
 (Beaumaris) — Unfulfilled Prediction of Matthieu du Drome . . 3 
 
 1865. 
 
 Pius IX. — Edward Davis — View of Loss by Death and of Sj-mpathy — 
 Reunion of Friends in a Future State — Present Agency of Departed 
 Spirits — King Arthur — Lord Lytton — Protestant Movement in Italy 
 — Windsor Castle — Regard for the Welsh Language — Recollections 
 of a Roman Spring — Connection with Radnorshire — Breton Con- 
 gress — Napoleon III. — Love of Nature — His Supply of Books — 
 Taine's "HistoLrede la Litteratirre Anglaise" — The Thames near 
 Richmond — Zoological Gardens — Ireland — Dean Stanley — Bliss 
 Murray — Objection to destroying Papers — Remarks on Humour — 
 Mi's. GaskeU — Observations on Books — Miss Berry — The Influence 
 of IMistakes upon the Present and Future — Repentance of Sin and 
 Sins — Forgiveness of Sin and Sins — Torquay — Governor Eyre . 1 3 
 
 1866. 
 
 Miss Berry — Rev. F. W. Robertson — Broad, Low, and High Church — 
 Anecdote of Sir Charles Napier — Stoiy of Caliph INIamoun — Legend 
 of Abraham — Ecce Homo — Henri Martin — Miss Martincau — 
 Wilkie Collins— IMatthcw Arnold— Earl RusseU— W. E. Gladstone- 
 Ladies' Politics — Indian Legend — Gabriele Rossetti — Austro-Ger- 
 nian War — John Stuart Mill — Cession of Venetia — Napoleon III. — 
 Carlylc — Socrates — Indian and European Legends — Conduct of the 
 English in India— Novel-writers 63 
 
 a2
 
 XX CONTENTS. 
 
 1867, 
 
 Eugenie dc Guerin — Observations on Books — Puritanical Observance of 
 the Sabbath — Reform Demonstration — Designs for the Law Courts 
 — Speeches in the Plouse of Commons — The Tichboume Dole — 
 Allusions to Speech on St. David's Day (1867) — Allusions to Charge 
 (1867) and Attacks upon it — Recollections of Italy — History of 
 (xreece — Grote's History of Greece — Windsor Castle — Welsh Books 
 — Meteoroliths — Mill on Female Suflrage — Trinity CoUegc, Cam- 
 bridge — Placed on the Rubric Commission — Canterbury — The Tower 
 — Pan-Anglican Synod — Remarks on Botany and Zoology — Faith- 
 fulness — Dream of Tiberius — Etymology of Gosse . . . .87 
 
 1868. 
 
 Dutch and German Novels- Ritualism at Tenby — The Talmud — Ecce 
 Homo — Tyndall's Lecture on Faraday — Napoleon I. — Glory and 
 Fame — Mackonochie Case — Robespierre — Selfishness — Goethe — 
 Bunsen — Irish Church Question — The Queen's Diary translated into 
 Welsh — Earl of Derby — Earl Russell — Primitiae — Literary Criticism 
 — Eclipse of the Sun — Indian Legend — Queen of Spain and Spanish 
 Prospects — Miss Bremer's Anecdote of a Bird — Nature and Value 
 of Rumour — Legal Faculty — Demoralising Effect of Contested Elec- 
 tions — Ecclesiastical Appointments — W. E. Gladstone — John Stuart 
 Mill — Governor Eyre — New Parliament (1868) — Political Poem on 
 the Irish Church Question — Ivinglake's Crimean War . . .129 
 
 1869. 
 
 Birds — Destruction of Druid Remains in Brittany — Vitality of South 
 American States — Napoleon I. — The National Gallery — Victor Hugo 
 — India Office — Musical Recollections — Cambridge — Huxley — 
 Pronunciation of Greek — Speech on the Irish Church Bill — The 
 Thames— The Temple— Carl Meyer— Tau Corona;— Charge, 1869— 
 Slavonic Legends — Queen Elizabeth — Goethe — Matthew Arnold . 179 
 
 1870. 
 
 Froude's Queen Elizabeth — Etymology of Grail — Rowland WiUiams — 
 Exhibition, Burlington House —Article in the Edinburgh Review 
 on Geology — Myths— Charles I. — Cromwell — Mary Queen of Scots 
 — Huxley — Index Expurgatorius — Old Testament Revision Company 
 — Beaumaris — Infallibility Decree — Franco-German War — Ply- 
 mouth Brethren — Sermons 213 
 
 1871. 
 
 Carlyle— Westminster Commission — Supposed Contrast between the 
 Heathen-philosophical and the Christian View of Death — InfaUi- 
 Dility Decree — French Feeling towards Germans— Remarks on 
 Pius IX. — Observations on Reading — Metaphysics — Ex-Cathedi^a 
 Declarations — Religious Persecution— Moral Judgment in Sleep — 
 Symbol of the Cross — Tichbotirne Case — Paris — Grote — Prince of 
 Wales — Sir Moses Montefiore 2S9
 
 CONTENTS. XX i 
 
 1872. 
 
 PAflB 
 
 Controversy about Praypr — Middlomarch — Speech on the Athanasian 
 Creed — Mr. Biirgon — Sir Geor<^e Lewis — Llanover — Llanarth Motto 
 — John Wesley — Gates Ajar — Stopford Brooke .... 275 
 
 1873. 
 
 Middlemarch — Rev. IMak-olin IVIacCoU — Mastland Manse — Napoleon III. 
 — Prince Imperial of France — Louise Lateau — Mrs. Sonierville — 
 Hans Christian Andersen — Whitley Stokes — Professor Sedgwick — 
 Hurricane in Minnesota — Coal — Novels — Marie Alacoque — Radnor- 
 shire — Miss C. Williams Wynn — John Stuart Mill — Piu-gatory — 
 Roman Catholic Faith — Life and Affection 287 
 
 1874. 
 
 Elections — " Quatre-vingt-treize " — Lord Houghton — Resignation of the 
 Bishopric of St. David's — His Removal to Bath — His Proposed 
 Revision of his Works — His Failing Sight — Verses on Friendship . 301 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The Bond of Perfectnoss : A Sei'mon preached in the Temple Church, in 
 memory of Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, D.D., Dean of Westminster . 307
 
 1864.
 
 Abeugwili Palace, 23 Ait^f., 18G4. 
 
 " I AM truly obliged to you for your Cornish journal, 
 which, while it brings the scenes it describes vividly before 
 my mind, excites in me a strong desire to visit them 
 myself ; so that if it should ever happen to me, at the right 
 time in the year, to have just a week at my command, I 
 should be strongly tempted to rush to the Land's End and 
 actually see my Yarrow. I am afraid that if I did I should 
 be base enough to keep above ground, unless you can 
 assure me that either the glor}'- or the sensation repays the 
 trouble of the descent into that Botallack Mine. I should 
 certainly be more attracted by the rocks, castles, and 
 gardens, and especially the monastic ruins. As you kindly 
 leave me the alternative, I will keep the Diary with reli- 
 gious care until I have the pleasure of returning it into 
 your own hands. 
 
 " I shall be glad to read it again and re-consider some 
 of the etymology. I cannot help feeling a little doubt 
 about that of Scilly, in which no account is taken of the c : 
 though there would certainly be no difficulty about the s. 
 You seem to have forgotten that the Welsh for Whit- 
 Sunday is Y Sulgwyn. It is remarkable that in Breton, 
 also, Sul is Sunday, though ' sun ' is eol. It looks as if the 
 s was only preserved in the case of the Dies solis. That 
 would be against the proposed etymology of Scilly. Also, 
 judging from the view in your first sheet, I should doubt 
 whether the general aspect of the isles was likely to sug-
 
 4 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 gest a name compounded with Llech, which is not a rock, 
 but a broad slab, or flat stone. 
 
 " The epistolary fragment is consigned to Hephoestus, 
 according to your direction. But I am alarmed by an 
 expression in your concluding observations, where you 
 speak of 'the Arch-druidic mantle having fallen upon me.' 
 I was aware that I had been ordained a Druid, but had 
 not the least suspicion that I had been created Supreme 
 Pontiff of the Order. But no doubt, as the youngest and 
 humblest of its members, I am concerned in the fact of its 
 existence. How odd it is that there should be at the 
 same time two Wilsons broaching heterodox opinions. I 
 hope that your ' better instructed ' friend will soon put 
 forth an 'Aid' to Druidic 'Faith.' Something really 
 ought to be done. Hitherto it has been generally believed 
 that the Latin word Flamen, a priest, was derived from 
 Filum, the thread with which the head of such a priest 
 was bound, as was my arm with the mystic white riband 
 attached to it by Dr. James. But if things go on at this 
 rate, we shall have people maintaining that fiaraen is 
 derived from the English flam." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 25 Nov., 1864. 
 
 " .... I should be very glad on my own account as 
 well as yours if I knew of any published collection of 
 Welsh Legends, and should value the legendary proper 
 more than those which pretended to be historical. As 
 there must once have existed in popular tradition ample 
 materials for such a volume like the ' Tales of the South 
 of Ireland ' (translated into German by the Brothers 
 Grimm), their own ' German Children's Tales,' Camj^bell's 
 ' Popular Talcs of the Western Highlands ' (which I hope 
 you have), Dasent's ' Popular Tales from the Norse '
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 5 
 
 (another delicious book), it is a thousand pities that those 
 of Wales should not have been preserved. But I very much 
 fear that very few of them have survived. I remember 
 that several years back an inquiry was sent to me from 
 some collector of Folk-Lore in Germany, I forget througli 
 what English friend, whether I could furnish him with 
 any Welsh Legends — meaning such as are still current 
 among the people. I did not know of any such, and if 
 they existed probably a bishop is about the last person 
 who would have any chance of hearing them at the cot- 
 tage fireside. But if they had existed as late as the last 
 century, I am afraid that then at least they must all have 
 been swept away by the great religious movement, which, 
 however beneficial it may have been in other respects, was 
 not favourable to poetry and art. I suppose there is no 
 pious family among the lower or middle classes which 
 would not think it a sin to repeat or listen to such stories. 
 Your question has reminded me that I meant to have 
 shown you a collection of Merlin's Prophecies, printed 
 at Carmarthen in 1812. They cover the whole history 
 of the Island, ' from Brute to the reign of King 
 Charles.' Admitting it to be probable that Merlin did 
 write such a prophetic history, one might still think it 
 strange that lie should stop at the reign of King Charles, 
 and be led to suspect that the history Avas written then, 
 and referred to Merlin as a prophecy. But on the other 
 hand there is that prediction of the Lancastrian usurpa- 
 tion recorded by Froissart, Avhich, though I have not 
 recovered it, I know I read, and which proves the great 
 antiquity of a part at least of the collection — at least of a 
 popular belief that Merlin had predicted all the great 
 events of English history. The prophecies are in an 
 English metrical translation, but in the Appendix are 
 some in Welsh, which, as they threaten destruction to the 
 Saeson — 'gwae fydd i'r Saeson creulon cu genu i'r byd
 
 6 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 erioed ' — I can only read with a Paternoster, that, if not 
 already fulfilled, they never may be. I do not mean you 
 to suppose that this may be the collection in question, as, 
 though it is partly legendary, by far the greater part is 
 merely an outline of English history down to the accession 
 of Charles I " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 3 Dec, 1864. 
 + 
 
 " It is always a great pleasure to me to receive a letter 
 from you. It is sure to be agreeable, and generally imparts 
 some useful information. I have been prevented from 
 answering your last sooner by a journey to Radnorshire, 
 on an occasion of which you may see a report in yester- 
 day's Times. 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you for the extract from 
 Froissart, with the help of which I have recovered that of 
 Buchon's edition, though so very differently arranged. I 
 have sent a copy, as I thought you might like to see the 
 original, and also the editor's notes, especially that on the 
 Lancastrian revolution of this century. 
 
 " I am sorry that I do not possess Wace's ' Brut.' But it 
 seems certain that, so far from containing any prophecy of 
 Merlin's about the houses of York and Lancaster, it omitted 
 even that which is found in the Brut Arthur, and translated 
 in Book VII. of Geoffrey of Monmouth. For San-Marte, in 
 his edition of Geoffrey, gives in a note an extract from 
 Wace, in which he assigns two reasons for so doing : — 
 
 ' Dont dit Merlins les prophesies 
 Que vous avey souvent oies. 
 Des rois qui a venir estoient 
 Qui la tere tenir devoient. 
 iVe voit son livre translater 
 Quant jo ne l' sai entrepreter : 
 Nule rien dire no volroie 
 Qu' issi ne fu com jo diroio.'
 
 LETTEKS TO A FRIEND. 7 
 
 " This appears to me to make the passage in Froissart 
 the more curious and interesting. 
 
 " I quite agree with you that there ought to be a collec- 
 tion of Welsh Legends. And I now strongly suspect that 
 none of the kind you speak of has ever been made. For I 
 believe I now know something about that which you have 
 heard of. I was led by your letter to look into Keiglit- 
 ley's ' Fairy Mythology,' which, I remembered, contains a 
 few samples of Welsh Fairy Legends ; and there I found 
 the following passage : — 
 
 " ' The legends, of which we will now proceed to give a 
 specimen, were collected and published in the latter half of 
 the eighteenth century by a Welsh clergyman, who seems 
 to have entertained no doubt whatever of the truth of the 
 adventures contained in them,' with a note : ' A relation 
 of Apparitions of Spirits in the County of Monmouth (?) 
 and (?) the Principality of Wales, by the Rev. Edward 
 Jones of the Tiarch.' Keightley himself, however, only 
 knew the work by extracts supplied by Mr. Croker. It is 
 probably very scarce now, but the more valuable for having 
 been pre-Lancastrian. 
 
 " In a following page Keightley adds some legends col- 
 lected in 1827, in the Vale of Neath, by a lady named 
 Williams (no doubt of Aberpergwm), with whom he became 
 acquainted when travelling in North Wales ; and he says 
 they were originally intended for his work, but ' circum- 
 stances caused them to appear in the supplemental volume 
 of the " Irish Fairy Legends." ' I do not think I have ever 
 seen that supplemental volume. But, as I observed, the 
 legends which you cite are of quite a different kind, and 
 of far higher interest and value. Why should you not 
 make such a collection yourself ? It would be a pleasant 
 occupation for yourself, and a gain to the public."
 
 8 BISIIOr THIRL wall's 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 13 Dec, 1864. 
 
 " You give me credit for much more knowledge than I 
 possess. It is from you that I have learnt that Beaumaris 
 had any earlier name. That of Bonover I never heard 
 before ; nor can I guess how it is derived, or to what 
 language it belongs. I thought it possible I might find 
 something bearing on the question in Leland ; but only 
 discovered that just where he might have been expected 
 to speak of Anglesey, two pages are missing in the MS., 
 and he has not a word about Mon. I then looked into 
 Pennant's ' Tour in Wales ' (and is it not delightful to be 
 carried back to that age of innocent simplicity when j)eople 
 brought out Journeys in Wales, just as they do now a 
 Trip to Tartary, or a Holiday in the Himalayas ?), and 
 good Pennant does contain some interesting facts about the 
 early history of Beaumaris, but they are such as to arise 
 a great doubt in my mind, whether before the time of 
 Edward I. there was anything there but the marsh on 
 which was built the castle round which the town after- 
 wards grew. 'Edward,' he says, 'created the place;' 
 'he built this fortress in 1295, and fixed on a marshy 
 spot, near the chapel of St. Meugan.' ' The marsh was 
 in early times of a far greater extent than at present, 
 and covered with fine bulrushes.' ' The lands on which 
 Edward built the castle were private property ; and it 
 appears that he made the owners full satisfaction, and 
 among other recompenses bestowed on Eneon ap Mere- 
 dydd, GrufFydd ap Evan, and Eneon ap Tegerin, lands in 
 the township of Earianell and Trc'r Ddol, free from rent 
 or service ; the castle itself being built on their ground,' 
 This does not sound as if there had been any dwellings 
 there before. ' Edward built the town.' There can be 
 no reason why you should not undertake a collection of 
 Welsh legends. The main requisites for such a work are,
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 9 
 
 I think, a keen enjoyment and delicate appreciation of the 
 poetry, and the utmost simplicity in the rendering. Both 
 I believe you possess and command. 
 
 " You never told me anything about the surviving 
 fairies, nor about that stone (I suppose of Ancyra, which 
 happens to be also famous for another, most celebrated 
 and important, known as the Monumentum Ancyranum, 
 containing a record of the Acts of Augustus). 
 
 " The positiveness of Matthieu du Drome's prediction, I 
 have no doubt, caused the postponement of many voyages, 
 and thus to an extent which no one can calculate, dis- 
 turbed the sequence of events in the world. And what a 
 number of incalculable causes must have conspired to 
 possess Matthieu du Drome with that firm belief in his 
 own false prophecy!"
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 19, 7th line from top, /o/- "Le Morte Arthur" read "La 
 
 Morte d' Arthur." 
 23,10th „ bottom, /or " Beside " m/<^ " Besides." 
 
 ,, 194, 15th ,, top, for " ;(aipe " read " ;^arpe." 
 
 „ 209, 9th „ top, for " et I'Empire" read " et de 
 
 I'Empire." 
 ,, 271, 4th ,, bottom, /or " Magdalene " rc«f^ " Mag- 
 
 dalen." 
 ,, 297, 12th ,, bottom, /or "ultra tombe " n'fff/ "oltre 
 
 tomba."
 
 1865.
 
 AnERGwiLi Palace, Carmarthen, 3 Jan., 1865. 
 
 " . . . . The history of Pio Nono is quite a tragedy. I 
 am reading the last volurae of the unhappily unfinished (and 
 never to be finished) work of Gualterio, ' Gli ultimi Rivol- 
 gimenti Italiani,' which relates the opening of the present 
 Pontificate. I had not before quite so clear an idea of the 
 Pope's character, and of its influence on the course of 
 events. 
 
 " He began with good intentions for a moderate reform, 
 not one which would ever have reached to the root of the 
 evil. He found himself placed between the expectations 
 of the Liberals on the one hand — expectations which he 
 had unconsciously and unwillingly raised to an extrava-, 
 gant height — and the stubborn opposition of the Conser- 
 vatives, by whom he was surrounded, on the other. He 
 wanted strength of mind and character to control or with- 
 stand either, and yielded alternately to the one through a 
 strong craving for pojjularity, to the other through good- 
 nature and unwillingness to give oifence. 
 
 " When at last the storm which he had raised through 
 his own fluctuations of will and purpose fell upon him, 
 he threw himself without reserve into the hands of the 
 reactionary party, and closes his reign by a revival of the 
 
 pretensions of Boniface VIH He seems to have 
 
 been always conscious of his own weakness, and was alarmed 
 at the expectations which he felt he had neither the energy 
 nor the ability to fulfil. Gualterio says : ' Non lasciava di 
 
 B 2
 
 14 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 dire insrenuamente asfli amici : Ma si vuole da me cio di 
 cui non sono capace : Dio mio ! mi credono un Napoleone. 
 Ma se non ne ho ne la forza ne I'ingegno ! ' 
 
 " Poor man ! with his Immaculate Conception, and his 
 Peter's pence, and his Antonellis and Merodes, all con- 
 spiring to keep every breath of truth from reaching him, 
 and lapping him in a dream of universal monarchy in the 
 depth of his actual impotence. 
 
 " I return all the best wishes of the New Year, but 
 feeling that no one has more need of them than myself, if 
 they would help to make it a little more profitable than 
 its forerunners. My unfortunate experience is, that the 
 less time I have remaining the faster it seems to run, and 
 the less to deposit of what is good for anything." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 25 Jan., 1865. 
 
 " You are not content with making all your letters 
 delightful, but seem bent on making each more delightful 
 than the last. No story in Scheherazade's budget, nay, 
 no chapter of Sir Edward himself, could be so interesting as 
 your description of Knebworth, which not only pictures the 
 place, but opens a view into the laboratory of the owner's 
 mind. I am most thankful for the sight of his letter, 
 which I return. 
 
 "It is strikingly characteristic of the writer, and a very 
 precious memorial. There are two or three words which 
 made me wish that his hand had been more like yours, 
 which is the perfection of practical caligraphy. You give 
 me credit for much more reading than I possess. I never 
 saw or even heard of the ' Student,' and am sorry it exists, 
 as it has deprived me of some additional pleasure which I 
 should otherwise have enjoyed 
 
 " This reminds me to ask whether you know a Welsh
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 15 
 
 artist whom I consider as one of the most ingenious and 
 original sculptors of our day — Edward Davis. Many years 
 ago I sat to him for a bust.'''" He afterwards executed a 
 little memorial which I erected in Abergwili Church in 
 honour of Bisho}) Richard Davis, one of the Welsh trans- 
 lators of the Bible — which is also enriched with a charm- 
 ing englyn of Tegid's. Meyer admired it, the monument, 
 as a most beautiful composition. I have just received 
 from him, E. Davis, an exquisite photograph of a group of 
 ' Madonna and Child,' which led Bunsen also to consid<.^r 
 him a great artist. One side of that greatness is that he 
 has hardly an idea outside his art. This gives a unity 
 and simplicity to his character which in our day is very 
 rare. 
 
 " If, when you are in London, you would pay a visit to 
 his studio, 17, Russell Place, Fitzroy Square, he would be 
 highly gratified, and you would see a number of beautiful 
 things " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 3 Feb., 1865. 
 
 " I cannot receive your last communication in silence, 
 and yet it seems almost impertinent for me to say any- 
 thing on the subject, as if your sorrow could be soothed 
 by any words of mine. 
 
 " Indeed I have a strong general distrust of the efficacy 
 of words for such a purpose. There is a peculiar difficulty 
 in the way of ministering comfort in such a case : that 
 the mourner does not wish to be comforted, but on the 
 contrary cherishes and clings to his sorrow as a sacred 
 treasure ; repels every attempt to mitigate it as a wrong 
 both to himself and to the departed. He may be glad of 
 
 * Edward Davis made a copy of the bust of Bishop Thirlwall for West- 
 minster Abbey in 1876.
 
 16 BISHOP THIEL wall's 
 
 sympathy, but it must be tlie real sympathy of an actual 
 fellowship in the same grief: and that not because such 
 fellowship lessens the grief, but because it increases it. 
 Expressions of general condolence, however, believed to be 
 sincere, may be welcome as tokens of good-will, but can 
 hardty exert any real alleviating power. The afflicted ones 
 stand within a circle of images and feelings of their own, 
 which, painful as they may be, they would not part with 
 for worlds. Any attemj^t to draw them out of that circle 
 can only inflict a useless annoyance, 
 
 " Then is there nothing that a friend outside of the 
 circle can do for one within it, beside a more or less con- 
 ventional and always ineffectual expression of sympathy ? 
 I think there is. But I believe the only attainable object 
 must be, where it is needed, not to lessen the quantity, 
 but to alter the quality of the sorrow. 
 
 " For the same sorrow, while it remains undiminished 
 in amount, may be either enervating and depressing or 
 wholesome and bracing. It will be of the former kind as 
 long as the sufferer remains merely passive under it ; it may 
 be of the latter if he can be brought to make a mental 
 effort, not against it, but upon it, so as to view it in its 
 true light. Every judicious attempt at consolation must, 
 I think, set out with a full acknowledgment of the right, 
 the value and dignity of the sorrow, and then go on to 
 show that it is only the shady side of a great privilege 
 and blessing, from Avhich it can only be separated by 
 mental abstraction. 
 
 " Who that ever had the happiness of knowing a good 
 and amiable man could wish not to have known him, or 
 not to have been beloved by him, or not to have loved 
 him, or not to desire the continuance of his friendship and 
 of communion with him ? Yet, except on these conditions, 
 it would be impossible not to mourn over his loss. I know 
 that it is needless to remind you of this ; but, in your
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 17 
 
 self-depreciation, you have dropped words which would 
 imply that a keen sensibility to the loss of departed friends 
 is a sign of weakness of mind or imperfection of character. 
 With due allowance for differences of sex and tempera- 
 ment, I should consider the reverse of this as the truth ; 
 and therefore I hardly like to say how much on other 
 grounds I deprecate the superiority which you attribute 
 to me. St. Paul would not have any not to sorrow, but 
 only not as without hope : and the Mirror of perfect 
 holiness was moistened with tears for him whom He 
 loved. 
 
 " It was indeed a topic of rhetorical consolation among 
 the ancients, that the separation caused by death is only a 
 loss to the survivor ; so that the grief it causes would be 
 a mere selfish passion. I consider this as quite untrue and 
 unjust. Both from the heathen and the Christian point of 
 view, the loss is common to both parties — both have like 
 need to regard the separation as only a temporary absence, 
 such as may take place on earth, but cheered by the pros- 
 pect of a happy meeting and an abiding union." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 17 Feb., 1865. 
 
 " . . . . The belief in a personal reunion of friends 
 in a future state is, no doubt, only a belief, incapable of a 
 strict demonstration, and not explicitly revealed. It may 
 therefore be consistently rejected by those who withhold 
 their assent from whatever is not so demonstrated or 
 revealed, as of course it must be by those who altogether 
 deny the existence of a world of spirits. But for those 
 who admit the reality of a spiritual world, the affirmation 
 of the negative doctrine is an utterly unwarranted dogma- 
 tism on the mere ground of ignorance. The belief in per- 
 sonal reunion and recognition has been held by the wisest
 
 18 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 and best religious thinkers of all ages. If it is not 
 explicitly taught in the New Testament — that is, if pas- 
 sages which seem to express it admit of a different inter- 
 pretation—it is at least apparently implied and assumed 
 throughout. 
 
 " It is, I am aware, hazardous to reason from physical 
 to spiritual laws of being ; but I am struck by an analogy 
 which seems to favour the belief which cheers so many 
 bereaved hearts. The great physical doctrine on which 
 men of science appear to be either quite agreed or rapidly 
 coming to an agreement is that of the conservation or (as 
 it has been proposed to call it) persistency of Forces, or 
 Force. No force is ever lost, but only passes into a new 
 form. Motion becomes heat. When the fall of the hammer 
 is arrested by the anvil, there is a sudden cessation of a 
 more or less rapid motion ; but it is invisibly prolonged 
 by an inward vibration, which changes the temperature of 
 the anvil, and which, if iron was sensitive, would be accom- 
 panied by acute pain Then, I would ask, are not 
 
 love and friendship forces ? Very real, spiritual forces, 
 which in the present state subsist (persist) through all the 
 changes — outward and inward — of our mortal life ? Is 
 it to be thought that they are more liable to perish 
 than those which are employed in making a horse-shoe ? 
 And if they are indestructible, can it be conceived that 
 they are to remain for ever without an appropriate 
 object ? 
 
 " The question as to the present agency of departed 
 spirits on their surviving friends is quite a diiferent one, 
 and is almost hopelessly complicated — to any one who does 
 not believe in sensible manifestations of their presence — by 
 the extreme difficulty of distinguishing between the effects 
 produced by the remembrance of the j)ast and such as can 
 only be referred to a present external agency. The minis- 
 trations of which you speak may, I think, be attributed
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 19 
 
 to the operation of the former cause. But I should ho 
 sorry to weaken the belief of any one who clings to the 
 
 other I am much obliged to you for your kind ofter 
 
 of a sight of the ' Student.' I should like best that you 
 should bring it with you when you next brighten Aber- 
 gwili with your presence. I do not know whether you 
 have ' Le Morte Arthur,' published last year from a 
 Harleian MS., with a prefatory essay on Arthur by the 
 late Herbert Coleridge. It is a beautiful little volume, full 
 of manifold interest." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 27 Feb., 1865. 
 
 "The 'Student' has arrived quite safe; but in the short 
 interval which remains before my return for my Ordina- 
 tion I shall hardly have time to look much into it. Sir 
 Edward Lytton's way of speaking about office reminds me a 
 little of Chateaubriand, who doted on it while he affected 
 to disdain it. Sir E. is a great master of language, and 
 almost unequalled in the construction of fiction. But I 
 think there is some ground for a remark which I have 
 seen of a foreign critic, that he stands too visibly aloof 
 from his own creations — like a deity of Epicurus — and 
 that there is more of his mind than of his heart in his 
 works. Their brilliance is too much like that of ice or 
 marble. This is, perhaps, not unconnected with his views 
 of epic poetry, as unfolded in his preface to his 'Arthur,' 
 which I cannot help thinking altogether erroneous. 
 
 " Alas ! I am obliged to own that Herbert Coleridge's 
 opinions about Arthur are far from orthodox. But the 
 poem was probably the Avork of a believer, who never asked 
 himself the question which that fatal Zulu put to Colenso. 
 And without pronouncing how it ought to be answered in 
 Arthur's case, I must say that it is much better it should
 
 20 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 not be asked if you mean to enjoy his adventures. To 
 reconcile them with his historical personality is exceedingly 
 difficult ; and if, giving them up as historical facts, you only 
 insist on his ' existence,' what is left but a mere shadowy 
 abstraction, incapable of inspiring any human being with 
 a genuine interest ? And why should not your patriotic 
 sympathies be satisfied, if you bring yourself to think of 
 him as the child of his country, which he certainly was, 
 rather than as its father, which is so very doubtful ? 
 
 " The revelations contained in the letter I return, as to 
 the Protestant movement in Italy, would have been very 
 melancholy if I had ever expected anything from it in its 
 present shape. But I believe it to be altogether a mistake. 
 I am persuaded that no Italian Reformation can ever be 
 made to rest on so narrow a basis. The Papal system has 
 no doubt made sad havoc with the Christianity of all the 
 intelligence of the country. But yet I think it probable 
 that there is much of it, both among clergy and laity, 
 which may be recovered to, or preserved in, the faith of 
 Christ, But if so, it must be by the exhibition of a 
 church which does not break with all ecclesiastical tradi- 
 tions, but aims at restoring them to their original purity ; 
 which preserves all the institutions and usages that are 
 not at variance with the fundamental truths of the 
 gospel ; one capable of comprehending in its pale large 
 masses, not merely a few knots of ' converted ' men, 
 whose only bond of union consists in their common inter- 
 pretation of some questionable texts, and who treat all 
 who do not adopt their opinions as heathens. Though I 
 believe that the Church of England comes nearer to such 
 an ideal than any other body now existing, I am far from 
 desiring, much more from expecting, that it should be 
 transplanted as it is into Italy, where I do not imagine 
 it could ever thrive. But I think it might suggest a 
 framework for a practicable reformation. Only, as long as
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 21 
 
 the Papal domination subsists, it is useless to speculate on 
 such a possibility. And the Italian statesmen probably 
 care for nothing but the independence of the civil 
 government, and, that being secured, would be as much 
 opposed to any religious innovation as the most bigoted 
 priest " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 13 March, 1865. 
 
 " .... As to Arthur, I am afraid that I have led 
 you into a misapprehension. Your question as to the 
 possibility of his having been ' held real ' by ' a race not 
 heathen,' and therefore 'not in the habit of personifying 
 wholly ideal beings,' seems to imply that he has been 
 regarded, by those who question his historical existence, as 
 a personification like those which fill the heathen mytho- 
 logies. But I am not aware that this is the case. I must 
 frankly own that, in the abstract, I should not think it 
 impossible, or without a parallel, that such a personifica- 
 tion, having sprung up in a heathen period, should be 
 transmitted, under another name and different attributes, 
 through Christian times. The vitality of heathen tradi- 
 tions under the dominion of Christianity is attested by 
 numberless instances. But I have no such hypothesis 
 about Arthur, nor, as I said, am I aware that it has been 
 proposed by any one. In fact, I do not think the question 
 is so much whether or not Arthur was a historical per- 
 sonage, as in what sense the proposition is to be under- 
 stood. If it is only that there was a time when British 
 princes were at war with the Saxons, and that one of 
 those princes was named Arthur, it seems to me that 
 nothing can be more probable. But with regard to 
 everything but the name, this is not a distinct historical 
 fact, but simply a general description of a state of things ;
 
 22 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 and if tliis is tlie only thread of historical truth in the 
 whole web of legend relating to Arthur, it seems hardly- 
 worth contending about. And it does not seem as if 
 anything more was maintained by the most learned modern 
 Welsh writers. Carnhuanawg himself appears to attach 
 no value whatever to the story of the exhumation. 
 
 " But for my own part I perfectly agree with you in 
 your yearning after reality — matter of fact — whenever it 
 can be brought to light. 
 
 " I should be willing to exchange a great mass of fiction 
 — perhaps all Sir Edward's poem — for a few grains of 
 unquestionable historical truth on the subject. Only, 
 where this is not to be had, I think it wise to be content 
 with the creature of the imagination, which after all is a 
 fact, and a very precious fact, though of a different kind. 
 The more I prize historical truth, the more jealous I am 
 of all unauthenticated claims to its character. 
 
 "I do wish for leisure to read ' Arthur,' though I 
 strongly suspect that the author is mistaken in his estimate 
 of its comparative value. I know that everybody does 
 not like it, which I believe could not be said of any of his 
 greater novels. 
 
 " How happy it is for us that we are totally unable to 
 realise (if I may speak Yankee) such a calamity as the 
 cyclone ! There was an article on it a fortnight ago in the 
 Spectator, from which it appears that the first accounts 
 fell immensely short of what has since been disclosed by 
 the official reports. The imagination is overwhelmed by 
 its stupendous dimensions and awful effects." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 1 April, 1865. 
 
 '• You will have begun to think that your letter of the 
 22nd (now happily ended) March had either miscarried
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 23 
 
 or been forgotten. It was, however, forwarded to mo in 
 London, and has never since been out of my mind ; but 
 neither there nor here have I been able to answer it 
 sooner. You will have seen how I was engaged during 
 j)art of my absence from home. My visit to Windsor was 
 extremely pleasant and every way satisfactory, with the 
 exception that I was suffering under a very severe cold, 
 and was generally rather indisposed. 
 
 " The Queen sent for me soon after the service at which 
 I preached, and honoured me with a private interview, 
 Avhich lasted I think about a quarter of an hour, leading 
 me through a great variety of topics. One on which we 
 dwelt longest was Wales, the people and the language. 
 Though her sentiments on the subject may be known to 
 you, it would have done you good to have heard the warmth 
 with Avhich she expressed her feeling of recoil from the 
 idea of an old language becoming extinct, and you would 
 have been still less able than I was to abstain from ex- 
 pressing your sympathy with it, though, perhaps, hardly 
 warranted by the laws of etiquette. Our talk was through- 
 out easy and cheerful : she even told me about her Welsh 
 nurses. 
 
 " In the evening I had the honour of dining with her at 
 a small round table for eight, of whom five were of the 
 Royal Family, and the other guests were my two friends, 
 Lady Augusta Stanley and the Dean of Windsor. Beside 
 the insight into the interior of their family life, I was glad 
 to meet the King of the Belgians, who honoured me with 
 
 a good deal of conversation On the whole, it will 
 
 dwell with me as a sunny memory. Many thanks for your 
 budget of news, which to me had all the freshness of 
 perfect novelty. I have since heard that there is no 
 doubt about the unhappy defection of Lady Herbert of 
 Lea. I am glad to have my ideas of Miss Muloch more 
 and more enlarged and defined. I had never known
 
 24 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 anything of her but as the author of ' John Halifax, 
 Gentleman.' I cannot quite make out whether she is a 
 deaconess, or a sister of charity, or simply a good woman 
 (by no means a contemptible thing, even without cowl, 
 cord, or crucifix). Many thanks also for the verses, which 
 are very pretty. I fulfilled my promise of buying her 
 romantic tales, but have hitherto only found time to read 
 one. From the titles and names it would seem as if they 
 were rather classical than romantic. But I find I must 
 shut up, unless I lose this post." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 10 April, 1865. 
 
 ". . . . I sympathize with you in your loss of a trusty 
 old servant. It is perfectly irreparable. Even if the 
 thing had not unhappily become so very scarce, it could 
 not fall to the lot of the same family twice in one genera- 
 tion. It is not a treasure to be found by a lucky chance, 
 but has to be amassed by much care and pains. Shake- 
 spere, indeed, speaks of Adam's attachment as a rare sample 
 of the ' constant service of the antique world, when service 
 sweat for duty, not for mead : ' and the relation is pro- 
 bably now much more unstable than it was in his time. 
 But still, as it depends mainly on certain permanent laws 
 of human nature, it will no doubt always reward the 
 trouble of cultivating it " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 22 April, 1865. 
 
 " Again I have to thank you for a letter full of sweet, 
 pleasant, and interesting things. Though I have not 
 stirred from home since my return from London, the rich 
 perfume of your violets not only regales my sense, but
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 25 
 
 recalls the recollection of those which at this season, now 
 near half a century ago, I was gathering in the delicious 
 hyways about the walls of Rome, where I used to stroll in 
 a more intense enjoyment of the spring than I have ever 
 tasted since : though this, from the suddenness and vigour 
 of its outburst, resembles it more than any other I can 
 remember. I am truly thankful for the sight of the 
 photograph, which enables me perfectly to realise the 
 object which presented itself to the eyes of the Prince of 
 Wales as he listened to the sweet strains of the Cymrian 
 harp.'"' The costume is exceedingly well adapted to the 
 artist's function. But I do not think I should say that it 
 was ideal. If it has a fault, it is that which is by some 
 thought to detract from the merits of Lord Stanley. It is 
 too sensible. Gruffydd, in his succinct garb and easy 
 drawing-room chair, presents quite a contrast to the figure 
 which adorns the frontispiece of a little copy of ' Gray's 
 Poems,' in which ' the bard ' is exhibited on the extreme 
 verge of that well-known 
 
 ' Rock, whose haughty brow 
 Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,' 
 
 instead of being smooth and glossy from the brush and 
 the razor, like those of Gruffydd — 
 
 * Loose his beard and hoary hair, 
 Stream like a meteor to the troubled air.' 
 
 Then, instead of the tight fit, his person is wrapped in 
 one large mantle, the upper part of which, being filled 
 with the wind like a sail, lays bare the whole of his bust. 
 The harp only serves for his left arm to rest upon — and 
 perhaps to prevent him from toppling over until it had 
 
 * Gruffydd, Welsh Harper Extraordinary to H.R.H. the Prince of "Wales 
 (and Domestic Harper to Lady Llano^-er), had the honour of playing at 
 Marlborough House 28th March, 1865, upon the Prince of "Wales's triple- 
 stringed harp, made by the late Basset Jones, of Cardiff.
 
 26 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 become time for him to ' plunge deep in the roaring tide 
 to endless night ' — while the right arm is uplifted to give 
 emphasis to his denunciations of the ' ruthless king : ' 
 altogether a figure as different from Gruftydd as the old 
 ' tyrant ' from our Albert Edward, the real and useful 
 clearly predominating over the ideal and picturesque in 
 the photograph. 
 
 " I did not see that reprint from the Orchestra 
 
 But I feel highly flattered by your determination to let 
 me pass as a Celt. The fact is, I am a hybrid. It would 
 be vain for me to disclaim all Saxon descent, as my name 
 speaks of a time when some of my forefathers were thirl- 
 ing their way with might and main through the old ' wall ' 
 which was the scene of so many hard-fought battles. But 
 on the female side I have reason to believe that I share 
 whatever Welsh blood flows in Radnorshire, where we had 
 family connections, which, when I was a boy, were kept 
 up by periodical visits to a house called Stapleton Castle, 
 near pleasant Presteign, of which, though at that time I 
 saw it not, I used to hear a great deal, as well as of the 
 terrific mountains in the neighbourhood — among others 
 Water-break-its-neck — which inspired me with deep long- 
 ing, not to be gratified until I became a bishop, when I 
 visited the castle, then become a mere, though very 
 picturesque, ruin. It has now very likely disappeared, or 
 made way for a more modern building. But the old hill, 
 over which I rode with great interest, still continues to 
 break the neck of the same little rill, which forms a tiny 
 cascade, stupendous to the untravelled eyes of former 
 generations, but not now commonly producing any very 
 deep sense of awe. 
 
 " All the biographical and historical information of your 
 letter is entirely new to me ; but I am surj^rised to hear 
 that it is still believed by those who are most likely to 
 know that Manning is expected to succeed to Westminster.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 27 
 
 His name has never appeared among those said to have 
 been submitted to the Pope. The last three were, I think, 
 Chffbrd, Ullathorne, and Errington. The last, it seems, 
 Avas so obnoxious at Rome, that tlie Pope Avas almost pro- 
 voked to throw all three overboard ; otherwise I think 
 Clifford was supposed to have the best chance. What (on 
 earth) is to become of the j^oor Pope himself, what 
 human being — less than a prophetic bard on the edge of a 
 precipice — can pretend to say ? 
 
 " Pray do not be too sanguine about that Breton Con- 
 gress. If anybody thinks it will meet in spite of Csesar, 
 he must be reckoning without his host — unless a part of 
 the plan is to abolish the imperial rule in Armorica, and 
 to proclaim some new king of Little Britain. But no 
 doubt they may invite their Freres Gallois without any- 
 body's leave, and with no risk but to those who accept the 
 invitation." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 29 May, 1865. 
 
 " I am very sorry that I have not been able to write 
 sooner, but during the whole of last week after your, in 
 every sense, sweet '"" letter had been forwarded to me, I was 
 involved in a whirl of engas^ements which left me, I do not 
 say no time, but — I beg you to mark the important distinc- 
 tion — no leisure for sitting down to write to you. This 
 morning I take time by the forelock, and intend to finish 
 this before I open any of the letters which are lying 
 beside me. 
 
 " I am sorry for the delay, not because it can be of the 
 slightest consequence in itself, but only because it may 
 have strengthened your doubt whether I desire the con- 
 tinuance of our correspondence, and I wish to set your 
 
 * Alluding to an enclosm-e of flowers. 
 C
 
 28 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 mind completely at rest once for all on this point. The 
 doubt could not have suggested itself to any one who was 
 not so amiably unconscious of her own attractions. You 
 evidently take it for granted that the gain is on your side. 
 Even if it was so, after you have told me that my letters 
 afford you a little entertainment, I should be not only 
 unworthy of your kindness, but a strangely selfish crea- 
 ture, if I grudged the time I devote to that object. 
 
 " But however natural it may be for you to fancy that 
 anybody could grow weary of your letters, I beg you to be 
 assured that, in the simply selfish and commercial point 
 of view, I consider myself as the gainer by the exchange, 
 and know that the time I invest in it could not be more 
 profitably employed. So far, indeed, as I am a recipient, 
 all on my side of the account is unmixed pleasure and 
 substantial benefit. But as to my active share in the 
 correspondence a word of farther explanation may be 
 required. I must own that I am not fond of letter-writing 
 in the abstract ; that, on the contrary, by far the greater 
 part of the time I spend on it is a most irksome sacrifice 
 to duty. The case is wholly different, indeed quite the 
 reverse, when I am writing to you. Only that I may 
 really enjoy what I am about, it is necessary that I should 
 be at perfect liberty and in the humour for writing. This 
 is what I meant by the distinction between time and 
 leisure. Any time that can be spared is equally good for 
 a letter of business. But the writing to you ought never 
 to be in the nature of a ' tax ' or a task, but the pleasant 
 relaxation of a really leisure hour, when I have not only 
 no immediately pressing work on hand, but am not dis- 
 tracted by any inward preoccupation. I hope you will let 
 the correspondence proceed under these conditions, which 
 will, I trust, relieve you from all possible misgivings about 
 my wishes. 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for the sight of M. Martin's
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 29 
 
 letter. I shall be very curious to hear the plan which 
 you finally adopt for your summer excursion. Which of 
 the two between which you are in suspense may be the 
 most likely to yield the greater pleasure, I cannot pretend 
 to say. But I think it is much more probable that the 
 Congress will not take place than that Cffisar will take 
 advantage of it to lay hands on the associates. He has to 
 deal with a much more formidable conspirator in his own 
 household. That unmanageable cousin must fill his mind 
 with most annoying anxiety about the stability of his 
 d}Tiasty and the future of the Prince Imperial. 
 
 " As you take a special interest in Cornwall, there are 
 two books, or parts of books, very lately published which 
 you ought to read. One is a small one, entitled ' Popular 
 Romances of the West of England,' by one Hunt. The 
 other — which takes an entirely different view of the sub- 
 ject — an article in the collection of Herman Merivale's 
 ' Historical Studies.' Both will be at your service w'hen I 
 return to the country. 
 
 " Alas ! it saddens me to think what beautiful things I 
 left there growing every day more beautiful, and that before 
 I return the loveliest will have passed away." 
 
 1, Regent Street, Whit Monday, 4 June, 1865. " 
 
 " All London, with the exception of a martyr bishop or 
 two, is gone or going out of town ; not only the figures 
 of the season, but the very cyphers, who, whether present 
 or absent, are not considered as making a part of London 
 at all : one-half already packed in excursion trains, and 
 the other half, as may be gathered from the incessant 
 rattling of wdieels, on the way to join them. The time 
 seems to invite me to add a small link to our chain. 
 Grateful as I am for the sweets which you send, it is 
 
 c 2
 
 30 BISHOP THIELW all's 
 
 painful to me to be reminded of the beauties I am losing 
 and have lost. There are none which I prize so much as 
 the thorns. But it is a consolation to me to reflect that 
 I lingered among them to the last possible moment — 
 sacrificing that high day at St. Paul's when the Prince of 
 Wales was there, and the dinner at Merchant Taylors' 
 Hall, for the sake of three days more of their develop- 
 ment. And now I should only find them spoiled and 
 fading away. On Saturday I refreshed myself with a walk 
 in the Zoological Gardens, which I had not seen for two 
 years, and found much improved by some neAV arrange- 
 ments especially for the greater comfort of the monkeys ; 
 and there I saw a white thorn in full blossom, being, I 
 believe, the only one now visible in the Regent's Park. 
 The creatures themselves are an inexhaustible source of 
 pleasure, and can only be thoroughly enjoyed in fine and 
 what we call hot weather, though most of them would 
 refuse it the name. That is, perhaps, the most sensible 
 excuse that anybody can give for voluntarily coming to 
 town at this time of year. Whatever you do, let me 
 conjure you not to send any books to me here. Nothing 
 could be more unwelcome, and actually distressing, than 
 their arrival. It would be like a fresh landing of stores 
 amidst the confusion of Balaklava. You are evidently 
 not aware of my ways. I always, notwithstanding the 
 lessons of many years' ex23erience, bring up with me, for 
 fear of starvation, about ten times as many books as it is 
 possible for me to read, or even dip into, during my stay ; 
 and before I go, it generally happens that I have added a 
 good many to the number ; so that when the time for 
 repacking arrives, I find myself much embarrassed for 
 room. This, I already foresee, will be the case on the 
 present occasion, as there have been sevei'al novelties, 
 besides those ' Romances of the West,' which I could not 
 help ordering.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 31 
 
 " But is not your proposal an inchoate breach of faith ? 
 I thought that you were to keep the books until you 
 returned them in person. That is the best service they 
 can now do to me ; coming by themselves, I have no wish 
 to see them. ' Frost and Fire ' I have not yet seen, even 
 in an advertisement. I am afraid that I do not know as 
 much as I ought of the author, as from his name I 
 should not have been able to gather whether it was a 
 novel or a book on chemistry. Having read Taine's work, 
 but not the review of it in the Edinburgh, I was exces- 
 sively surprised by your rejjort of the latter, and looked 
 at it on Saturday. The impression which the work had 
 made on me was not only quite different, but, as to the 
 main point, diametrically the reverse of that which it 
 seems to have left on the reviewer. So entire a freedom 
 from national prejudices in an estimate of our literature I 
 never met with before in a French author. Never before, 
 I believe, did a Frenchman make the admission that the 
 French genius is essentially unpoetical, and that there is 
 no such thing as poetry proper in the language. Taine's 
 mind, no doubt, is not free from bias ; but that which 
 affects his judgment most injuriously is not any national 
 prejudice, but his philosophical theory. The reviewer 
 appears to me to betray an unconsciousness of the truth 
 of many things of which he complains, much more credit- 
 able to his patriotism than to his discernment. But to 
 charge Taine with any ill-will towards England, any dis- 
 position to conceal the good or to bring out the bad side 
 of the subject, is positive injustice and misrepresentation. 
 His standard of good and evil is not ours ; but according 
 to it he seems to me always to judge fairly, and on many 
 points corrects erroneous and unfavourable views of English 
 society which are generally current among his countr}^- 
 men. The singularly eminent qualifications which he 
 brought to his work, in extent and accuracy of knowledge
 
 32 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 and critical tact, the reviewer himself is fain to acknow- 
 ledge. But the whole article seemed to me unworthy 
 both of the book and of the subject. You would 23robably 
 hardly find leisure to read four such bulky volumes ; but 
 if you were curious about them they will be always at 
 your service. 
 
 " That Indo-Italian novel must be a curiosity. How 
 many things you hear and know of which otherwise would 
 never reach me ! It is not only of the history of your 
 Enchanters that I am profoundly ignorant, but of almost 
 everything that is going on in civilised society. Never 
 fear lest anything you have to tell should not be new 
 to me." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 20 June, 1865. 
 
 " Finalmente — the prospect of deliverance begins to 
 dawn upon me. A very few days more and I hope to be 
 in the country, but, alas ! not before Midsummer Eve, when 
 the days have reached their longest, and all the glory of 
 the spring has passed away, and even all my hayfields 
 have been cleared. To aggravate my regret, the weather 
 has for the last month been so splendid that I can neither 
 expect nor even desire that it should continue much 
 longer, as the country would suffer from drought, as it did 
 last summer. 
 
 " The moisture of the Green Isle is less easily drained, 
 and I hope you may see its verdure brightened by sun- 
 shine. During my stay, however, I have had one after- 
 noon which I really enjoyed, and which has left a deep 
 and pleasant trace in my memory. It was the Friday in 
 Whitsun week, one of the hottest days we have had. 
 Early in the morning the desire to escape out of London 
 came upon me with irresistible force, and early in the
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. '33 
 
 afternoon, while the heat was most intense, I went to 
 Richmond. 
 
 " I had not been there for, I believe, more than ten 
 years, and never before in my life had seen what is best 
 worth seeing about it ; having once gone with a party up 
 the river to it, but never having visited the upper regions. 
 Even when I did, it was much more for the sake of the 
 air than of the earth, and without any anticipation of the 
 beauties which were to feast my eyes. I had no concep- 
 tion of the loveliness of the scenes which opened before me 
 as I was rowed slowly up to Teddington Locks. The north 
 bank is entirely occupied with a continuous succession of 
 villas, each with its green velvet lawn sloping down to 
 the water's edge. The opposite side, being, I suppose, 
 included in the Park, is in the state of nature. Perhaj^s 
 you will be amused at my taking for granted that all this 
 is new to you ; but since I saw it I have asked several 
 persons whether they had, and have not met with one who 
 knew anything of it but by name ; yet it is not only pic- 
 turesque, but historical and classical ground. 
 
 " There are the villas of the French princes, Pope's villa 
 — not indeed in its primitive form, but yet standing — 
 StraM'berry Hill, and several other notable though less 
 celebrated retreats, the history and vicissitudes of which 
 were recounted to me by an experienced boatman. The 
 smaller ' boxes,' though unknown to fame, in their flowery 
 greenness presented soothing, though possibly illusive, 
 images of domestic happiness ; and I recall with special 
 pleasure that of a corpulent elderly gentleman sitting in 
 his chair on his lawn angling for gudgeons, in a channel 
 of about a foot broad, which was left between the shore 
 and his boat. There was just stir enough in the air to 
 temper the heat, but not to rufile the glassy smoothness of 
 the river. I believe the whole picture to be quite unique, 
 and it is certainly perfect in its kind.
 
 34 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 " My only other recreation of a similar kind has been a 
 weekly visit to the Zoological Gardens, which I repeated 
 chiefly for the sake of your gazelle. I have no doubt 
 that it is the same lovely creature you used to admire ; 
 but it has now a pair of strong horns, very inappropriate 
 to the gentleness of its nature, as well as needless under 
 its present circumstances. That it might, though uncon- 
 sciously, benefit by your recollection of it, I have fed it 
 regularly with buns. It has always been my own favourite, 
 but I would have done the same if it had been a toad, 
 though to do so in the vicinity of Rotten Row certainly 
 required an exertion of moral courage, as well as of kind- 
 ness, worthy of the Duke of Wellington.'" 
 
 " There is one jminful feature in the present state of 
 suburban vegetation. The thorns have been almost uni- 
 versally devoured by caterpillars, and are mostly as bare 
 as in the depth of winter, while all the neighbouring 
 trees are unscathed. I cannot help thinking that I saw 
 
 the luminous moss when I was last at . My ears 
 
 are wide open for the story of your enchanter. But is 
 there any other than Merlyn ? " 
 
 Abeugwili Palace, 23 Aiiff., 1865. 
 
 " You have now, no doubt, all turned yourselves round, 
 
 and settled at , with the delicious feeling of being 
 
 at home again, and I hope with health thoroughly to enjoy 
 
 it I hope you found the dear Llamreif not the 
 
 worse for your journey. His case deserves careful con- 
 
 * In allusion to the toad, the boy, and the Duke of AVelKngton. 
 
 t A favourite horse. " AbergM-ih, A?(g. 8, 1865. — I left some things unsaid 
 which I had meant to say. I can now only remember one. It is to beg that 
 you will not be in a hurry in deciding on the fate of poor dear Llamrei, on 
 the sujiposition — so very difficult to verify — that his life has become a burden 
 to him. It must be remembered that though so much less happy than at the 
 outset, it is his only one."
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 35 
 
 sideration. I think it should be romemberod, in the first 
 place, that as to the internal condition of all the lower 
 animals we know absolutely nothing with certainty. So 
 utter is our ignorance, that I have heard my brother of 
 Oxford maintain, with every appearance of earnest convic- 
 tion, that they are not sensible to pain, only to fear. My 
 own belief is that the truth is just the reverse, viz. that 
 they feel pain just as we do, only without the aggravation 
 of fear. Still, this is only a belief which I am unable to 
 establish otherwise than by questionable analogy. But 
 this ignorance seems to me a strong reason for abstaining 
 from any j)roceeding grounded on a mere presumption that 
 life has become a burden, unless in cases where, reasoning 
 from analogy and from all visible indications, you feel sure 
 that the creature is suffering intense and incurable pain, 
 as under vivisection, when no doubt you long to despatch 
 the patient almost as much as to shoot the operator. But 
 I am not at all satisfied from your description that Llamrei 
 does ' live wearily,' or that, if he had the choice given him 
 between prolongation and termination of his present exist- 
 ence, he would hesitate a moment to decide for length of 
 days. I believe that to the Avhole animal creation life 
 itself is a source of pleasure. I have no doubt that a cow 
 ruminating enjoys herself very much like a man smoking 
 his cigar after dinner. The pleasure is of course in 
 proportion to the state of health and spirits ; but an 
 invalid does not cease to enjoy life, and would onh' be 
 induced to wish for death by acute chronic pain or mental 
 suffering. From the latter Llamrei is happily exempt, 
 and most probably from the former ; and, if so, I cannot 
 think that he is at all impatient to be released from his 
 present condition,"
 
 36 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 Abergwilt Palace, 2 Sept., 18G5. 
 
 . " I am sorry that I parted witb the penultimate instal- 
 ment of your most pleasant diary '"' yesterday, though I 
 am not sure whether I could have summoned courage to 
 deface its fair pages with specimens of my a — caligraphy. 
 I see that in my journeys over the same ground I had an 
 immense advantage over you, as along the west coast from 
 Galway to Donegal I saw everything best worth seeing in 
 the finest weather. From Westport to Londonderry you 
 seem to have traversed the chord of my arc. Thus I saw 
 more of the coast. On the other hand, you saw Cong, 
 which I remember I gave up with great reluctance, finding 
 that it would cost more time than I could spare. On a 
 former trip I was also signally favoured by the weather, so 
 as to have a perfect view of that sublime north-west coast 
 from the sea. 
 
 " I took boat near Coleraine on a lovely calm morning, 
 the sea like glass, permitting me to enter a magnificent 
 cave of, I think, 300 feet in depth, which is only accessible 
 in the most profound calms. We landed at Dunluce and 
 the Causeway, rounded Bengore Head, and gazed on the 
 stupendous cliffs on which a part of the Spanish Armada 
 is said to have been wrecked — remarkable also for the 
 singular alternation of black and red layers of rock — and at 
 last stopped to refresh ourselves at Carrick-a-rede, an islet 
 connected with the main by a hanging bridge of two ropes 
 and some planks, and in summer occupied by fishermen. 
 Those who were then there set before us delicious slices of 
 boiled and broiled salmon on plates of peat, which did not 
 prevent me from finding it the most exquisite rej)ast I had 
 ever enjoyed. But while we were so regaling ourselves a 
 change was passing on the face of the sky and of the sea, 
 and as I lingered the boatmen emphatically admonished me 
 
 * A joint journal written for friends.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 
 
 zi 
 
 that it was time to think of our return. The wind was rising 
 and the sea roughening every minute. The scene of the 
 wreck, which, when we had passed it before, only pre- 
 sented the image of a great national deliverance, now, Avith 
 its beach strewed with huge masses of rock, suggested the 
 idea of imminent personal danger. Presently we were in 
 sight of Bengore Head, which in the morning had looked 
 so serene and quiet ; it was now wrapped in mist and 
 spray. We Avere glad to be able to run our boat ashore, 
 and' to scramble for four miles over hedge and ditch to 
 
 Coleraine, where we arrived drenched, but thankful 
 
 I was struck by the title of one of the sculptures you saw 
 at Dublin, the Avork of my friend Edward Davis. I 
 wonder whether it can be the same on which he Avas at Avork 
 Avhen I last visited his studio just at the end of May. It 
 was a ' Venus and Cupid,' and, as it seemed to me, a very 
 original and ingenious composition, representing Cupid 
 Avith his Avings spread, lighting on the maternal shoulders, 
 and gazing on the beautiful face of the goddess, aa'Iio, I 
 think, does hold him, but otherwise I should have thought 
 ' caught flying ' an appropriate description of his case. 
 And yet it is curious that Davis should almost simul- 
 taneously have produced tAvo groups so very similar in 
 subject ; and if he had begun that which you saw when 
 I was Avith him, I am quite sure that he Avould have shoAvn 
 it to me " 
 
 Ahergwili Palace, 14 Oct., 1865. 
 
 "I am sure that you will not attribute my silence, 
 though, perhaps, longer than you had expected, to any 
 want of sympathy for that peculiarly painful situation 
 which you described in your last. I hope that you are 
 noAV able at least to bestoAv your undivided attention on
 
 38 BISHOP THIRLWALL's 
 
 f 
 
 your father, and that he is getting the better of his 
 insidious and obstinate enemy. 
 
 " I should certainly have written as soon as the Stanleys 
 had taken their leave, if they had not been immediately 
 succeeded by other visitors, who have, but just left me a 
 little brief leisure. The Stanleys went off last Monday 
 for Scotland, having gone on Friday evening to Haver- 
 fordwest, and on Saturday made the pilgrimage to St. 
 David's, starting at six in the morning and returning 
 between nine and ten at night. They were delighted with 
 everything they saw both here and at St. David's, and we 
 enjoyed one another's company — being all the Avhile en 
 quatre — very much. 
 
 " I find that you heard from John what Stanley said 
 about his semi-Cymric origin. I do not know Avhether 
 you were also told that he attributed all the energy and 
 vivacity of his character to his Welsh blood. I believe 
 your theory is, that the relation between the two great 
 divisions of mankind, the Celtic and the a-Celtic (if I 
 may coin the word in analogy with a-Catholic), is that of 
 mind to matter ; and that whenever the two elements are 
 combined in an individual, the only use of the grosser is 
 to serve as ballast to moderate the buoyancy of the more 
 spiritual. Though the theory may not have needed con- 
 firmation to yourself, you will be able to cite Stanley's 
 spontaneous confession for the conviction of gainsayers. 
 I have had a letter from him since their arrival at Edin- 
 burgh, in which he quite incidentally gives another proof 
 how actively the Welsh ichor stirs in his veins. ' We 
 slept,' he says, ' at Builtli, and explored what I had often 
 desired to see, the scene of the death of the last Welsh 
 Prince Llewelyn.' The only question is whether there is 
 any particle of the Cheshire sol — or stol — idity in his 
 
 constitution 
 
 " I have no doubt that you have heard of a Miss
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 39 
 
 Murray, who was once a maid of honour to the Queen, 
 and on account of her mature age was called the Mother 
 of the Maids ; and how she travelled in America, where 
 she fell into the hands of Southerners, who pre^^ossessed 
 her in favour of their domestic institution, and got her to 
 promise that on her return to England she would publish 
 her sentiments in its favour ; and how it was thought that 
 her advocacy of slavery Avas inconsistent Avith her position 
 at Court. And so, preferring the redeeming of her pledge 
 to keeping a place which she intensely enjoyed, she mag- 
 nanimously resigned — herself much the Avorse, and the 
 South none the better, for the sacrifice. Well, this Avas 
 my visitor. Possibly you may have heard AA^hat I have 
 just been saying about her, and may even have been in 
 her company, Avithout knowing that she is a daughter of 
 my predecessor. Lord George Murray, since whose time — 
 more than sixty years ago — she had not seen this home of 
 her childhood. She remembered having been put into a 
 coracle when the Tywy floAved in the bed close to the 
 grounds, which it soon afterwards deserted. She had been 
 staying last — as her whole life is spent in visits to her 
 innumerable connexions and friends — with Garibaldi's 
 Englishman at his place in Cornwall, and came over in 
 dreadful weather from Ilfracombe. It cannot be denied 
 that she is a very remarkable person. The elastic vigour 
 Avith Avhich she carries her seventy years is something A^cry 
 rare. She always rises at six, and the day after her arrival 
 she fairly knocked up John, who undertook to shoAV her 
 about the place. She possesses a great variety of pleasing 
 accomplishments — sketches rapidly and Avell, plays the 
 piano from memory with a free bold touch, cultivates 
 botany to the root, and practises homoeopatliy Avith, as 
 she reports, unfailing success. She is also a Avoman of 
 very original and independent modes of thought, not 
 always, I am afraid, consistent Avitli that faultless ortho-
 
 40 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 doxy whicli one looks for in a bishop's daugliter. As the 
 circle of her acquaintance, and even of her family con- 
 nexions, is very large, and she has spent so much of her 
 time in travel, she has an inexhaustible stock of reminis- 
 cences and an endless flow of talk. She is even said to 
 have performed the almost incredible feat of keeping 
 Macaulay in gasping speechlessness, vainly waiting, like 
 Horace's rustic, for a pause in her fluency. And she is 
 certainly quite capable of defraying the whole expense of 
 conversation for an entire evening with as little depend- 
 ence on any interlocutors as Coleridge himself. With my 
 most earnest wishes for your father's recovery." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 10 Nov., 1865. 
 
 " I am quite startled — not to say shocked — to find, on 
 looking at your last letter, that three weeks have passed 
 since I received it. It seems as if I ought to have written 
 sooner, if it was only for the chance of affording you a 
 momentary distraction when you so much need it. But 
 I am sure that you will not attribute my silence to indif- 
 ference ; and in fact the greater part of these last three 
 weeks has been occupied with journeys on ofiicial business, 
 and with making up the arrears which always accumulate 
 during any absence from home. But I do not think there 
 has been a day of the whole time in which my thoughts 
 have not dwelt on your home. Eeports also have reached 
 me now and then of the state of your father, sometimes 
 more, sometimes less cheerful. But the general impres- 
 sion left by all has been that you must have been con- 
 tinually suffering the lingering torture of deferred hope 
 
 and prolonged anxiety But at least, whatever 
 
 comfort can be derived from the universal sympathy, not 
 only of your friends, but of all who know the object
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 41 
 
 of your anxiety, that is certainly yours in the fullest 
 measure. 
 
 " When I wrote last I believe Miss Murray had just left 
 me. T have had very satisfactory accounts of her since. 
 First from a canon of St. David's, to whom I gave her a 
 letter of introduction. It appears that she made the most 
 of her time at St. David's. Nothing could either frighten 
 or tire her. She scaled the Head, and, like yourself at 
 that Irish lake, enjoyed and sketched the views under her 
 umbrella amidst a pelting rain. Afterwards I received a 
 letter from herself, dated from Margam, expressing the 
 gratification she had received from all that she saw both 
 at Tenby and St. David's ; and also informing me that sho 
 had been preaching, with the aid of her sketch-book, to 
 Mr. Talbot and his son on the duty of contributing to the 
 restoration of the greatest Welsh Cathedral. I have not 
 yet heard the result. People are complaining that sermons 
 are less impressive and efficacious than they used to be. 
 So it may be with Miss M.'s. But yet I wish that we had 
 a few more such missionaries or queteuses. One of the 
 things which raised her in my esteem was the way in 
 which she spoke of the Queen. Under the circumstances 
 in which she quitted the Court — where she owned she 
 found everything exceedingly pleasant — it would not have 
 been surprising or unnatural if her devotion to the Royal 
 person had been somewhat cooled. But she spoke of the 
 
 Queen with the strongest expressions of regard 
 
 You must excuse me for disobeying your direction, and 
 returning Lady D.'s letter. I have a kind of Mussulman 
 superstition about destroying papers, though I am some- 
 times absolutely forced to make a holocaust to save myself 
 from being smothered. But I could not find it in my 
 heart to commit a letter so full of goodness, and especially 
 of kindness to you, to the flames."
 
 42 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 24 Nov., 1865. 
 
 " Your last, so far as it relates to the decided amend- 
 meri't of your father's health, has been a great relief to 
 
 me I, however, look forward with hope to your 
 
 sojourn at Torquay, which I have no doubt is for a certain 
 class of invalids as efficacious as Cannes or Mentone. Am 
 I deceived by esprit de corps if I imagine that the 
 beneficial influence of the place is increased by the ex- 
 ample of longevity set at Bishopstowe ? '" At all events, as 
 standing proof of the virtue of the air, it must strengthen 
 its attraction. If it does but restore your father I shall 
 never be weary of celebratii?^4ts praise. 
 
 " Some of the books which beguiled your prison hours 
 I know, but by no means all. One of these I was induced 
 to get from seeing that it was somehow of sufficient 
 importance to occupy two or three columns in the Times. 
 But when it came to the reading I was disappointed and 
 disheartened, and found myself obliged to lay it on the 
 shelf half read. I think I was wearied by the appearance 
 of a continual effort at drollery, which was a continual 
 failure, as it always must be, for all true humour is grave, 
 and seemingly unconscious. When your author slaps you 
 on the shoulder, makes faces, and insists upon your 
 laughing at his fun, you — or at least I for my j)art — 
 resist, and find myself more inclined to yawn than to 
 
 smile I believe that there is a rather numerous 
 
 tribe of writers in this style ; and, if I am not mis- 
 taken, Dickens has a great deal to answer for about 
 them. His own manner requires all his extraordinary 
 talent to make it endurable. ' Teneriffe ' I have neither 
 met with nor otherwise heard of; nor have I seen either 
 of your two novels. Alas ! what an irreparable loss 
 have all intelligent novel-readers suffered in Mrs. Gaskell. 
 
 * In allusion to the great age of Bishop Philpotts.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 43 
 
 I am trembling lest she should have left her last novel, 
 ' Wives and Daughters,' "which she has been writing for 
 the Comhill, unfinished. I did not know who was the 
 author until I saw the report of her death ; but it appeared 
 to me one of tlie most delightful specimens of the still-life 
 novels that I have ever read. Jean Ingelow is also one 
 
 of my special fiivourites I do not know whether 
 
 I was quite so much interested by Lyell's work as by 
 Lubbock's ' Prehistoric Times ; ' but I do not think Lyell 
 has left much room for doubt as to his opinions on any 
 point on which he must be supposed to have made up his 
 mind, nor did his book acquaint me with any as to the 
 main question which I had not previously heard from him- 
 self in conversation. Forty years ago I used to read La 
 Motte Fouqu^'s stories with pleasure ; but they belong to 
 a period of unnatural excitement, and are not, I think, a 
 good sample of German literature. I have not read ' Men- 
 delssohn's Letters,' though I have seen the translation. 
 The better letters are, the more they are Ukely to lose in a 
 foreign language ; as what would be left of ' Madame de 
 Sevign^ ' in an English dress ? But would it not be better 
 to learn German once for all, than to be constantly regret- 
 ting that you did not do so years ago ? It would not cost 
 you more than six months if you worked steadily, or a 
 year if you took it easily. 
 
 " My own English reading of late has been a good deal 
 of the epistolary kind. I am making my way through 
 poor Lady Theresa Lewis's last editorial labour, the 
 ' Journal and Letters of Miss Berry,' and find it very 
 interesting. It reflects the image of the political and 
 social changes that have passed on this country during 
 about seventy of the most stirring 3'ears of its history, as 
 viewed from the midst of the best society by a very intel- 
 ligent observer. The first volume, which alone I have 
 finished, is enriched with a long series of unpubhshed 
 
 D
 
 44 BISHOP THIRLWALL'S 
 
 letters of Horace Walpole, cxliibiting tlie usual merits of 
 his style, and placing his character in a more favourable 
 point of view than most of his other correspondence. 
 Macaulay's judgment on him is certainly too severe, and 
 less fair than that of Charles de Eemusat in his ' Essays 
 on English History,' though it can hardly be denied 
 that he was something of a coxcomb even in his best 
 moments. 
 
 " I have also been again enjoying the society of Miss 
 Murray, and in the most agreeable way, without any 
 danger of weariness. In short, I have got her ' Letters 
 from America.' .... They are in two small volumes, of 
 which I have now read one. She went out in 1854 and 
 eame back in 1855. The entertainment of the reading is 
 of course very much heightened by personal recollections ; 
 but independently of them the httle book conveys a great 
 deal of interesting information in a very pleasant form. 
 She goes through the length of the land, as may be sup- 
 posed, constantly botanizing and sketching. The umbrella 
 occupies a prominent place in her narrative. On one 
 occasion it was held over her in a pelting rain by no less 
 a person than Longfellow. She might well feel, as she 
 professes to have done, some remorse for having endangered 
 the life of America's great poet for the sake of an addition 
 to her sketch-book. But at the same time she kept her 
 eyes always open for everything best worth seeing in 
 society as well as in nature, and her view is that of a 
 clear-headed and perfectly independent observer. She 
 had the best introductions, travelling almost as in England, 
 from one friend's house to another, and saw a good many 
 historical persons. I was of course curious about the 
 obnoxious opinions. I think they come out pretty fully 
 in the first volume, which brings her as far south as 
 Charlestown. Perhaps the}'- may be still further developed 
 in the second ; but I think I understand them already
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 45 
 
 well enoiiGfh. As lonff as she remains in the North she is 
 only o];)posed to the precipitate measures of the Aboli- 
 tionists and to the suppression of the slave trade, which, 
 by limiting the number, appeared to her to have dete- 
 riorated the condition of the slaves. As she moves South 
 she finds herself more and more prepossessed in favour of 
 the white population, in comparison with the manners 
 and habits of the Yankees ; and the more she sees of the 
 ' Darkies,' the more she is convinced that they are incapable 
 of civilisation, and that, if their labour is to be made really 
 useful, it must be compulsory. It is the masters, not the 
 slaves, whom she considers as truly worthy of pity. She 
 does not believe in ' Uncle Tom,' and, if she did, it would 
 not dispose her to abolition. In Topsy she finds a copy 
 from nature. It is no small evidence of her sagacity 
 that in 1854 she distinctly foresaw the outbreak of a 
 
 civil war The insurrection in Jamaica will no 
 
 doubt appear to her strongly to confirm her conclusions. 
 It is indeed sad to see how hard, if not hopeless, it 
 is to reclaim the savage nature so as safely to trust it 
 to itself. 
 
 " How quietly you drop into your postscript a few words 
 raising some of the most diflicult questions in theolog}' 
 and moral philosophy. I must condense my answers as 
 far as is consistent with perspicuity. I agree with your 
 unnamed friend as to the influence of (practical) mistakes 
 on every one's present life, and have always believed 
 that the future state will be affected by (most divines 
 would say it entirely depends upon) the character formed 
 in the present. This might Avell be after the cause 
 had been forgotten ; but I do not understand hoAv 
 memory can cease without the loss of personal identity. 
 We look forward to a new life, but of the same 
 person, not of one with whom we have no common con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 D 2
 
 46 BISHOP THIRLW all's 
 
 " In your queries about tlie effect of repentance and 
 forgiveness of sins, you seem to me to have overlooked an 
 ambiguity in the words ' sin ' and ' repentance,' which is 
 such that an answer which would be true in one sense 
 would be wrong in another. Have you considered the 
 infinite difference between sm as a particular act, and sin 
 as a state or habit, of which the sin is a mere sign or effect ? 
 And then what can it avail if the sin should be forgiven, 
 blotted out, annihilated, and forgotten, so long as sin — the 
 cause, the root, the fountain — remains ? Suppose two 
 friends really loving one another, but liable now and then 
 to quarrel. They may easily forgive and forget the occa- 
 sional offence, because their habitual disposition is one of 
 mutual good-will ; but should the case be the reverse — 
 hatred stifled, but occasionally venting itself by unfriendly 
 acts — how little would it matter though they should 
 forget the particular offence if the enmity should remain 
 at the ground of the heart. 
 
 " Then as to re'pentance. It is often used — and I think 
 you take it — for the compunction with which one may 
 reflect on a particular sin. Whether such compunction 
 procures the forgiveness of the sin, seems to me a question 
 which it is rather too bold to ask, but which is quite un- 
 important to have answered, unless forgiveness of sins was 
 the same thing as forgiveness of sin. We have seen what 
 entirely different things they are ; and there is an equal 
 and exactly corresponding difference between rej^entance in 
 the sense just mentioned, and in that signified by the word 
 which in the New Testament expresses the condition to 
 which forgiveness of sin is attached. The Greek word 
 denotes a cliange of mind, heart, or disposition, which is 
 equivalent to the cessation of sin as a habit or state. 
 Sins may be repented of without any such annihilation of 
 sin. And without such annihilation I venture to doubt 
 whether God himself could forgive sin, any more than Fo
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 47 
 
 could make two contrary propositions identical, or the same 
 tliins? to be and not to be at the same time. 
 
 " That I hope will suffice for the present. 
 
 " I suppose you will wait until this tempestuous weather 
 ceases before you set out for Torquay. When I visited it 
 in 1859 the railway was broken up between Exeter and 
 Torquay by a similar storm, and the passengers had to 
 cross the country in coaches. It has tried my trees, tear- 
 ing up an elm which was unsound at the root, and which 
 in its fall crushed another that might else have had a long 
 life. I hope it is only a preparation for your enjoyment 
 of the finest weather you could Avish during your stay." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 19 Dec, 1865. 
 
 " It is not only natural, but perfectly right and proper, 
 that you should dwell on the meteorology of Torquay. 
 In a watering-place for invalids the toj^ic of weather can 
 never become commonplace or uninteresting. For the 
 greater part of the visitors the state of the weather is a 
 vital concern. A fine day means not merely the pleasure 
 of out-of-doors exercise and amusement, but so much 
 gained for the alleviation of suffering, the restoration of 
 health and strength. We have had here a rather curious 
 meteorological phenomenon, which was noticed by some- 
 body in the Times. A few days ago the barometer was at 
 Set Fair. This unusual weight of the atmosphere was 
 believed by the person who noticed it in the paper to 
 indicate frost ; but none has yet come, and the mercury is 
 now at Fair. The odd thing is, that while during the 
 whole interval the weather has been mild, the sun has 
 not once pierced through the blanket of clouds which 
 has been happily spread over us ; and while the glass 
 was at Set Fair there was a slight fall of rain. I con-
 
 48 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 fess to a personal dread of frost, besides sympathy 
 with the tens of thousands whose sufferings it so 
 dreadfully aggravates. But it is time to come down from 
 the clouds. 
 
 " I have read that ' Armadale,' drawn on by curiosity to 
 see how such a very complicated skein is to be unravelled, 
 but with very little enjoyment. Miss Gwilt is a tragic 
 Becky Sharpe, but immensely below her prototype. On 
 the whole, I consider this class of novels as an unhappy 
 invention, creating an insatiable demand which must be 
 met by less and less wholesome food, and absorbing a great 
 deal of ability w^hich might be much better employed. A 
 new writer has made his appearance in Macmillan with a 
 story called ' Cradock Nowel],' '"" which is really remark- 
 able, if not for the composition of the framework, of which 
 it is too early to judge, certainly for the power of descrip- 
 tion, which is of very rare quality, and a command over 
 the resources of the language perhaps still more un- 
 common. There is a little spice of sensation in it, but 
 not enough to give a twang to any source of legitimate 
 enjoyment. I am in the third volume of the ' Berryana,' 
 and find the interest rather grow than decline. If it 
 is sustained to the end, I shall be almost sorry when all 
 is over, though three such thick volumes make a little 
 hole in one's leisure hour. I think when I wrote last 
 I had only finished my Miss Murray's first volume. The 
 second was still stronger on the subject of slavery, and 
 likely in every way to give still greater offence to the 
 friends of the negro, whom she denounces as his worst 
 enemies. The slave trade she regards as the great instru- 
 ment appointed by Providence for the civilisation and 
 evangelization of Africa. You can easily conceive with 
 what a frenzy of indignation and abhorrence such doc- 
 trines would be received at Exeter Hall Without 
 
 * By E. D. Blackmore.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 49 
 
 at all sharing Miss Murray's view of the slave trade or 
 of the domestic ' institution,' I must ovm myself to be 
 very much of her opinion as to the capacity of the 
 negro, and do not believe that he will, or ever can be, 
 raised to an equality with the whites. 
 
 "I believe that our experience in the West Indies 
 will be found to confirm that 02:)inion. Otherwise the 
 insurrection was, no doubt, a very deplorable event 
 in itself and in its consequences. It is a misfortune 
 that opinions should be so evenly balanced as they 
 are on a question which excites so much angry feel- 
 ing. I have no doubt that the truth lies somewhere 
 between those who take part with and against Governor 
 Eyre. It seems pretty certain that excesses were com- 
 mitted in putting down the negro insurrection as in 
 quelling the Sepoy Mutiny. But how far the Governor is 
 answerable for them is another matter, I am inclined to 
 believe the Jbest of a man w^ho was capable of such an 
 almost superhuman achievement as his Australian explora- 
 tion, and feel sure that if he erred in the measures taken 
 for suppressing the insurrection it was not for want of 
 humanity. But whatever may have been his fault, his 
 misfortune has evidently been, not that he authorised the 
 shooting of so many negroes, but that he provoked the 
 hostility of a powerful denomination, which could enlist 
 on its side the whole Dissenting interest, and could force 
 the hand of the Government. There is something almost 
 irresistibly ludicrous in the arrival of those two Colonels, 
 who, after receiving the highest honours in Jamaica for 
 their conduct in the insurrection, land at Southampton, 
 flushed with the consciousness of merit, and looking for a 
 similar acknowledgment of it here — to find that the great 
 question which divides opinion in England is whether 
 they do or do not deserve the gallows, and that they are 
 to go back immediately to be put upon their trial. The
 
 50 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 
 
 Ministry, I should think, would not wish Sir Henry 
 Storks to be in any hurry with his Keport. If the Com- 
 mission sit until the heat of party spirit is cooled, they 
 will have done more good than is to be expected from 
 any other result of their inquiry. Pray assure me that 
 your father is rapidly gaining strength. With a thousand 
 thanks and returns for your kind wishes."
 
 1866.
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 5 Jan., 1866. 
 
 " .... I HAVE now finished tlie ' Berry ana,' and with 
 some regret, for the interest rather grew as the journal 
 came down to my own time. There are several points in 
 Miss Berry's character with which you will sympathize. 
 When one considers her prodigious success and universal 
 popularity, one is led to consider with some curiosity to 
 what cause it was due. And it is instructive to find — as is 
 evident from her letters, and is expressly remarked by 
 Lady Theresa — that there was nothmg brilliant or salient 
 in her conversation, though she was certainly above the 
 average standard of intellect, and capable of studies which 
 to most women appear severe and repulsive. This, hoAV- 
 ever, was clearly not what constituted the peculiar charm 
 of her society. It seems to have consisted in a singular 
 feHcity of manners, at once highly polished and perfectly 
 easy and unaffected, by which she made all who ajoproached 
 her pleased first with themselves, and then — the inevitable 
 consequence — with her. I remember with regret that 
 about two or three and twenty years ago I was taken by 
 Monckton Milnes into her house in Curzon Street, and 
 introduced to her. Unhappily I did not then know any- 
 thing about her, except that she was a contemporary and 
 a sort of flame of Horace Walpole. If I could only have 
 read her first two volumes beforehand ! How much I 
 should have noted that is now for ever lost to me ! I 
 retain nothing but a faint recollection of two old ladies
 
 54 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 sitting at a table in a crowded room. The ' Life of 
 Robertson ' is out of print, and I am waiting for the 
 second edition, though without any very painful impa- 
 tience, for my last parcel of new books will keep me 
 abundantly supplied for a good while to come. I have 
 certainly neither mind nor right to quarrel with your 
 admiration for his ' Sermons' on the score of orthodoxy. I 
 was introduced to him by my friend Archdeacon Hare, 
 than whom I have no ambition to be more orthodox, and 
 who was his warm friend and admirer. Then he is strongly 
 recommended to me by the hostility of the Record, which 
 I consider as a proof of some excellence in every one who 
 is its object. He was certainly not orthodox after the 
 Record standard, but might very well be so after another. 
 For our Church has the advantage — such I deem it — of 
 more than one type of orthodoxy : that of the High 
 Church, grounded on one aspect of its formularies ; that 
 of the Low Church, grounded on another aspect ; and that 
 of the Broad Church, striving to take in both, but in its 
 own way. Each has a right to a standing-place ; none to 
 exclusive possession of the field. Of course this is very 
 unsatisfactory to the bigots of each party — at the two 
 extremes. Some would be glad to cast the others out ; 
 and some yearn after a Living Source of Orthodoxy, of 
 course on the condition that it sanctions their own views. 
 To have escaped that worst of all evils ought, I think, to 
 console every rational Churchman for whatever he finds 
 amiss at home. Robertson's 'Sermons' have the merit of 
 being very thoughtful and suggestive, but appear to me, 
 both as to form and substance, to have been given to the 
 world too much in the state of raw material. Perhaj)s you 
 see more of the process of thought, which is no doubt 
 
 interesting, but you miss the finished results I 
 
 have just begun another book, which I am sure you will 
 enjoy very much : ' Le Grand Mystere de Jesus Passion et
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 55 
 
 Resurrection, Drame Breton du Moyen Age, avec une dtudc 
 sur Ic theatre clicz Ics nations Celtiques, par le Vieomte 
 de la Villemarque.' The introductory !l£tude is exceedingly 
 interesting. The drama is given in a French translation 
 as close as the idiom of the language will permit, with the 
 Breton text at the bottom of the page. I hope that when 
 you return home I may have the pleasure of making you 
 
 better acquainted with it 
 
 " I mourn deeply over the loss of Mrs. Gaskell. To 
 ' Wives and Daughters ' it is irreparable. I am not in the 
 least comforted by anything that the editor of the Corn- 
 hill has said. The few things which he has disclosed as 
 to the sequel of the story, if indeed it is anything more 
 than a guess, instead of allaying, excite one's curiosity. 
 There was matter left for another volume. I return the 
 anecdote of Sir C. Napier, with many thanks. The melting 
 of the soldier under the touch of a purely human feeling 
 is always beautiful." '"" 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 26 Jan., 1866. 
 
 " In one respect we have certainly reason to trust 
 that the worst of the winter is past, for a much longer 
 continuance of stormy weather would be something I 
 suppose almost unexampled. But if we are to have 
 no harder weather on shore, this will — here at least — 
 have been one of the mildest winters ever known, and 
 I hardly venture to flatter myself with the hope that 
 we are to see no more frost and snow. When you 
 
 * Extract from a letter of Mr. Maunsell : — 
 
 " In walking through the plcasiirc-ground at Oakley Park, Celbridge, we 
 showed him the tree which is called Miss Emily's Oak. 'Ah,' he said, *we 
 all planted oaks the same day, but she only attended to hers, and we hoys, as 
 usual, neglected ours, and hers alone survives ; ' and he then put his arms 
 round it, embraced and kissed it, and we saw the tears spring into liis eyes. 
 Miss Emily was his sister, and at the time was married to Sir C. Bunbury."
 
 56 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 return to you will find it carjieted with snow- 
 
 droj)s, violets, and cowslips. I do not at all wonder that 
 you should easily persuade yourself that home is the best 
 place for you at this season. I can judge of the pleasure 
 you must feel at the thought of returning to yours, by the 
 repugnance with which I look forward to leaving mine, as 
 I am obliged to do in the middle of next week, though 
 only for a fortnight. The longer I have been settled the 
 more I dread a change of place, especially as it involves 
 a most disagreeable process of preparation, and futile 
 attempts to introduce a little order into the book-chaos 
 which is my natural, or at least most congenial, element. 
 Then the journey is a most grievous interruption of all 
 rational pursuits, and a cruel consumption of precious 
 time. Here I am generally reading and consulting some 
 two or three dozen of books simultaneously. I cannot 
 well take them all with me, and, if I could, I should 
 hardly be able to make any use of them in London, where 
 there is always some other subject to demand my atten- 
 tion The death of Mrs. Newton is very sad, but 
 
 unhappily raises no new difficulty as to the course of 
 Providence. The ancients considered it almost as a divine 
 law that the most gifted and promising were carried away 
 earliest. A friend tried to console Cicero for the loss of 
 his daughter by reminding him of the once great and 
 flourishing cities which had fallen to ruin. That sounds 
 to us as rather cold comfort. But a catastrophe hke that 
 of the London, or even the Brixham fleet, must silence all 
 questionings about an individual loss, in the deeper 
 mystery of such a termination to so many lives, each of 
 
 which had a more or less hopeful career before it 
 
 The most entertaining part of the first volume of ' Berryana ' 
 consists of Horace Walpole's letters ; afterwards the chief 
 interest lies in the journal, which is a diorama of the 
 history of half a century. I doubt very much whether I
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 67 
 
 should enjoy Miss B.'s works. Her taste in literature was 
 that of the last century, as embodied in Walpolc. He 
 himself believed, and made her believe, that Darwin was 
 in the first rank of poets. Your last novels are all 
 unknown to me, except the * Feats on a Fiord,' which is 
 one of my old and great favourites : among Miss Mar- 
 tineau's stories without a rival. She possesses very 
 remarkable talents for fiction ; but her stories are almost 
 all spoilt by the protrusion of a didactic vein, and the 
 disclosure of a practical design which she has upon the 
 reader, who, if his own object was simply to be amused, 
 hates the lesson, and is indignant at having been entrapped 
 into school. The Norwegian tale is one of the rare excep- 
 tions. At least, I am not aware that it is made to insinuate 
 any doctrine of political economy, for which the only 
 appropriate poetical form is that of Mrs. Marcet's 'Dia- 
 logues,' which never deceive or disap2:)oint anybody. 
 
 " I was aware of the Spanish profuseness of verbal 
 liberality. It has been generally considered as simply a 
 trait of the national character, and is no doubt connected 
 with the chivalrous spirit which breathes in the old 
 Spanish romances ; but I am inclined to think that it 
 may have been partly of Eastern origin, as it is quite in 
 accordance with the lavishness of Eastern hospitality and 
 munificence. We read that the Caliph Mamoun was an 
 ideal of this character. Once, when his treasury had been 
 completely exhausted by his largesses, he heard that a 
 large sum was on its way to him, the tribute of one of his 
 provinces, and immediately set out with his son to take 
 possession of the welcome supply. On their way home he 
 said to his son, ' If our friends were to go back empty- 
 handed and disappointed, and we to take all this money 
 with us, we should pass for sordid churls.' So luo dis- 
 tribute^ part among his courtiers, and the rest among his 
 soldiers. But, perhaps, the most characteristic story is one
 
 58 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 related by one of his friends, the historian Wakedi, of 
 himself. W. had two friends : they were all three as one 
 soul. Once, when he was reduced to the extreme of 
 destitution, being implored by his wife to provide her 
 with the means of dressing their children decently, being 
 also in expectation of having to entertain visitors, he 
 wrote to one of the three (say H.), stating his wants and 
 asking for help. H. immediately sent a purse sealed, 
 with 1,000 direms in it. But before W. had broken the 
 seal he receives a letter from his other friend (say C), 
 complaining of distress. W. forthwith deHvers the purse 
 to C.'s messenger. The next day, who should call on him 
 but H., with the identical purse in his hand, and begging 
 W. to say what he had done with it. W. informed him, 
 adding that, after he had sent the purse to C, he spent 
 the night in the temple in prayer, fearing to face his wife ; 
 but on going home found her quite satisfied with the use 
 he had made of the money. It was then the turn of H. 
 to explain that, when he received W.'s letter, he had 
 nothing in the world but that purse, and, having sent it 
 to W., wrote to C. for money, when the purse was brought 
 to him by his messenger. The state of the case being 
 then clear, it was agreed that 100 direms should be set 
 apart for clothing W.'s children, and the rest equally 
 divided among the three friends. When the story came 
 to the ears of Mamoun, he of course ordered 100,000 
 direms to be distributed in like proportion among the 
 three. 
 
 " Perhaps there was a time when the Spaniards came 
 nearer to the Moors in this respect. I do not Iniow that 
 there is any book professing to be a collection of legends 
 relating to Scripture history, but a great many are to be 
 found in Herbelot's ' Bibliotheque Orientale,' chiefly drawn 
 from the commentators on the Koran, There you find a 
 great many things about Abraham on which the Bible
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 59 
 
 preserves a profound silence, particularly the steps by 
 which he arrived at the conviction of the unity of God, 
 and t.he courageous testimony which he bore to this truth 
 at the idolatrous court of Nimrod, by whom he was thrown 
 into a fiery furnace, from which he came out unscathed. 
 But let me give you a different sample, which represents 
 Abraham according to the Eastern ideal of beneficence. 
 He was in the habit of feeding the poor, as their ' father,' 
 like Job, from his well-stored granary. But in a year of 
 famine his stock was exhausted, and he sent his servants 
 with camels to a friend in Eg3'pt to purchase a fresh 
 supply of corn. Egypt had none to spare, and as 
 Abraham wanted it, not for his o^vn household, but only 
 for the poor, his friend refused to part with any. So his 
 people were fain to return with emjjty sacks. But fearing 
 that the sight of these would expose them to ridicule, they 
 filled the sacks with fine sand. On their arrival they 
 whispered the sad truth to their master, who went into 
 his oratory to pray. Sarah happened to be asleej) ; but 
 when she awoke and saw the sacks, she immediately 
 opened one, and took out — not sand, but flour, with 
 which she began making and baking cakes for the poor. 
 The grateful odour met the patriarch as he came in from 
 his prayers, and he eagerly inquired where she had found 
 meal. ' It is that,' she replied, ' which your Mend has 
 sent you from Egypt.' ' Say, rather,' said Abraham, 
 ' that sent by the true friend, which is God,' So Abraham 
 was called the friend of God." 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 19 Feb., 1866. 
 
 " .... A great book has lately come out under 
 the title of ' Ecce Homo,' which has created quite a sensa- 
 tion in London in the circles which take an interest in 
 
 E
 
 60 BISHOP THIRLWALL's 
 
 religious philosophy, and everybody wants to know the 
 author, who conceals his name. Even Lord Houghton 
 was baffled in his attempts to penetrate the mystery. It 
 is very original, suggestive, and, in the best sense, edifying, 
 though theologians are in doubt about the orthodoxy, 
 which, as the work is unfinished, is [^not patent, though 
 possible. At all events I read it Avith the deepest interest 
 and pleasure. I also found Stanley's second volume on 
 the ' Jewish Church ' even more delightful than the 
 first " 
 
 Abbrgwili Palace, 3 March, 1866. 
 
 " .... I am much obliged to you for M. Martin's 
 
 letter The contents are, in part, of European 
 
 interest. Every lover of literature must wish that he had 
 done with his pamphlet on Russia. Whether I read it or 
 not I shall be glad when it appears, as the precursor of 
 his abridged ' Histoire de France,' which I have no doubt 
 will be a very pleasant and useful book. The great his- 
 tory — in sixteen volumes of between 600 and 700 closely 
 printed pages each — is not at all too long, but requires 
 more time for a complete perusal than I have hitherto 
 been able to spare ; for, unluckily, I did not order it 
 until it was more than half finished, and so could not 
 devour the volumes as they came out, which enabled me 
 to read through Thiers, who is quite as long, with the 
 greatest ease just as if it had been a feuilleton. I am not 
 sure that I could have done it if I had waited for the 
 appearance of Vol. XX.'"' .... As to Mr. Savage, I have 
 
 * Abergwili Palace, 19 Dec, 1866. 
 
 " .... I will try to arrange a little bouquet — not of bouquetins, but of 
 samples for your approval — by tbe begioning of the new year. H. Martin's 
 volumes are, as you will see,_each a piece de resistance, and there are many of
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 61 
 
 the advantage over you, inasmucli as I possess the 
 ' Bachelor of the Albany ' and ' The Falcon Family,' and 
 found them very sprightly and entertaining ; but I never 
 saw or heard of ' My Uncle the Curate,' and must look 
 out for it on my next railway journey. We seem to be 
 nearing land in ' Armadale.' Is it not marvellous that 
 anybody could have conceived it possible for Miss Gwilt 
 to write such a journal ? It is a comfort to think that 
 she cannot go on much longer, and that almost the only 
 doubt remaining is whether she is to poison or drown 
 herself In the same number of the CornJiill you will 
 not overlook Matthew Arnold's paper on * Celtic Litera- 
 ture.' You will admit it to be very clever — as everything 
 he Avrites — and will only lament that it is not quite 
 orthodox, but, perhaps, will condone his errors in considera- 
 tion of his good intentions, and of his promise to make 
 some amends in the second article. I overlooked the 
 employment which still separates M. Martin from more 
 congenial studies. Bunsen's work certainly deserves his 
 labour upon it, though it is not one which I should have 
 expected to interest him so much. The translation will 
 introduce it to many readers in England as well as 
 France, whose minds will be enriched with many new 
 ideas. I have just received the new edition of Kobert- 
 son's ' Life and Letters,' two very substantial volumes, 
 but I hope the reading may prove light. There is an 
 article upon it in the Contemporary Revleiu, which leads 
 me to expect more pleasure from the Letters than from 
 the Life " 
 
 them. I think of boginning -with one of the earKer, which contains some 
 things relating to Celtic literature, which will be specially interesting to you, 
 and which you certainly will not find in Lacretelle. I think his book is at 
 present the best history of France down to the Revolution " 
 
 E 2
 
 62 BISHOP THIRLW all's 
 
 Abekgwili Palace, 20 March, 1866. 
 
 " First of all, beginning witli the solemnity due to the 
 occasion, let me congratulate you and your home, you on 
 your home and your home on you, and both that you are 
 again at one. I should have been glad if I had been able 
 to say, without a figure, that you have brought spring 
 with you ; but it is enough for the present to have 
 brought what is better than spring, and until there is 
 something much nearer to the prosaic reality, I would 
 advise you to divide your time between your fireside and 
 your conservatory 
 
 " I wait, curious, though not impatient, for the copy of 
 the ' Sligo Cross.' You give me more credit for memory, 
 as for other things, than I deserve. I probably saw the 
 original, but not a trace of it remains in my mind. All 
 my recollections of Sligo are confined to its beautiful lakes, 
 which I can never forget. I cannot conceive what use 
 you can make of a better pen than you have hitherto 
 written with ; but ever since I went up to college I have 
 used Bramah's, and find that they combine all the qualities 
 you describe better than any I have yet tried. No doubt 
 they partake of the liability to decay common to all things 
 earthly, but they hold out longer than any others of their 
 kind. If you already know them, I can only repeat that 
 of all persons of my acquaintance you have least need of 
 a choice pen for any purpose but your own comfort : for 
 penmanship you might challenge any correspondent with 
 a skewer. I must now acknowledge a debt which I owe 
 you, but of which you would not otherwise be aware. 
 It was from you that I heard of Robertson's ' Life and 
 Letters,' and but for the way in which you spoke of them 
 I believe I should not have thought of ordering them, for 
 I had been rather disappointed by the ' Sermons ' which I 
 had happened to open. They gave me the idea of some-
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 63 
 
 thing crude and iinfinislied, which rather repelled me. 
 And then I knew nothing whatever of the man. Only 
 conceive that when I was introduced to him by Arch- 
 deacon Hare I fancied that he was a Dissenting minister. 
 But the ' Letters' are among the most interesting I have ever 
 read, and the insight which they open into so fine and power- 
 ful a mind and so noble a character is what no sermon could 
 give. That which I felt as an imperfection in the form 
 of the ' Sermons ' — a necessary consequence of the way in 
 which they were dictated from memory — is just what 
 gives the highest charm, of perfect freedom and natural 
 effusion, to the ' Letters.' How different a kind of interest 
 is that with Avhich one reads them from that of Miss 
 Berry's Journal. In this the events of the day pass 
 before you with the impression which they made on a 
 certain circle of society ; but there is an almost total 
 absence of any purely intellectual, much more of any 
 moral or spiritual, subject of interest. In the 'Letters' 
 hardly any really important question of such a nature 
 which agitated the public mind escapes notice and 
 
 discussion It is altogether a melancholy and 
 
 really tragic history ; for one cannot help seeing that the 
 very same elements in his constitution, mental and phy- 
 sical, which gave his mind its peculiar strength, and his 
 character its peculiar energy, also created the moodiness 
 which embittered, darkened, and shortened his life. The 
 sphere in which he moved was really one in which he was 
 at least as useful, and might have been as happy, as in 
 any other, if he could only have seen it in its true light. 
 I must close for the post, but will add a postscript to- 
 morrow."
 
 64 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 21 March, 186G. 
 
 " . . . . Do you know the Erckmann-Chatrian story- 
 books — ' Le Consent,' ' Waterloo,' and others ? If not, 
 you ought. I have several, one of which I am reading, 
 and another is still to be read. Erckmann-Chatrian is a 
 pair of single-bodied Alsatian twins. How they contrive 
 to tell the same story, I cannot guess. But the result is 
 something quite new, and perfect in its kind " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 29 March, 1866. 
 
 " I must first, as bound by promise, address myself to 
 your first letter of the two unanswered ones now before 
 me, and, indeed, I do not think I can give any definite 
 answer to the second immediately. But that of the 23rd 
 contains some interesting questions. First, about Lord 
 Russell. I should be sorry to doubt that he has, on the 
 whole, throughout his public life, acted on his genuine 
 convictions — strengthened by his illustrious hereditary 
 associations — of what was, as you say, ' right for his 
 country.' Nor do I consider the purity of his motives 
 at all sullied by his honourable ambition of taking a part 
 in the government of his country. But I am afraid that 
 this ambition has sometimes degenerated into a love of office 
 for its own sake, and I must own that I have never been 
 able to get over the unfavourable impression which he 
 made on me by his desertion of his colleagues in the 
 crisis of the Crimean War. I did read Bright' s speech, 
 and thought it among the most telling he has made 
 in the House of Commons. But being an admirer of 
 Gladstone, I am sorry to see Bright supporting the Minis- 
 try. Nothing in my opinion can be more absurd and 
 odious than the maxim that 'ladies should not meddle
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 65 
 
 with politics,' as if they were either less interested than 
 men in all that concerns the common weal, or were 
 naturally less able to form a sound judgment on political 
 questions. And yet, in point of fact, I believe that very 
 few of them are able to do so ; and this is no discredit to 
 them, for in the first place it is equally true of men. 
 Mr. Charles Buxton has published a little book, entitled 
 ' The Ideas of the Day on Policy.' The second chapter 
 opens with the startling statement, ' Parliament may be 
 divided into three portions. Most of its members care 
 little for its politics.' Only think. ' But of those who do, 
 few take any interest in politics until the principles are 
 embodied in party questions.' And the peculiarity of 
 Avomen is that they mostly can take no interest even in 
 party politics until they have become personal questions. 
 They need not be ashamed of the fact, for it is the con- 
 sequence of that which is most amiable in them — the pre- 
 dominance of the emotional element in their constitu- 
 tion. And for the same sweet reason it is hardly possible 
 for them to have a political opinion Avhich is really their 
 own, and not made for them by their fathers, brothers, or 
 husbands. And where is the man who can honestly say 
 that he wishes it were otherwise, or does not love them 
 all the better for it ? 
 
 " Pray remember that there is only one report of pro- 
 ceedings in Convocation that can be at all depended on 
 — that of the Guardian. None but what are copied 
 from that are of the slightest value. 
 
 " I have read the sermon on Elijah.'^^ I do not think 
 it equal to that on the kindred subject of ' The Loneliness 
 of Christ.' Both, no doubt, reflect his own experience, 
 and make one lament that he did not apply his medicine 
 to heal himself. Why it should have been censured I do 
 not see any more than you. It seems to me to contain 
 
 * By F. W. Robertson.
 
 66 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 nothing but what was a perfectly legitimate, though not 
 the only possible, application and ' improvement ' of the 
 facts. But of course, unless I knew what was his censor's 
 idea of the character of Elijah, I could not judge which of 
 the two understood it best. There are persons who are 
 afflicted Avith a morbid sensitiveness which leads them to 
 place the worst construction on words and acts. I remem- 
 ber that I entirely forfeited the confidence of an excellent 
 person — an assiduous and admiring reader of the Record — 
 in my orthodoxy, by using the word chalice in speaking 
 of the sacramental cup. But Robertson's censor seems 
 at least to have had a positive theory of his own, which 
 is always respectable. Yes, I did know that Madame de 
 Bunsen was engaged upon a life of the Baron. She in- 
 formed me of it herself, and I remember it was one of the 
 topics of my conversation with the Queen. I long exceed- 
 ingly to see it. I have not read Dickens's last ghost 
 story. Your promise to send me one reminded me of a 
 story which I thought you would like, and which I now 
 actually enclose. It is from an Indian story-book, and I 
 think even more interesting and remarkable than those I 
 sent some time ago from Persian and Arabic sources. It 
 is wonderful to find so much of the purest Christianity in 
 the midst of the grossest heathenism 
 
 " Prince Viravara came to the court of Sudraka, the 
 Maharajah of the Carnatic, and, having been admitted into 
 the royal presence, proposed to enter the Rajah's service as 
 body-guard for proper pay. ' How much ? ' asked Sudraka. 
 ' Five hundred gold pieces a day,' answered Viravara. The 
 Rajah was startled at the demand, and asked, ' Why, what 
 retinue bringest thou with thee ? ' ' My two arms and my 
 sword,' replied Viravara. 
 
 " On this Sudraka flatly refused, and Viravara withdrew. 
 But presently the Rajah was advised by his ministers to
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 67 
 
 make a trial of the stranger for four days, in which it 
 might be ascertained whether he was worth so high a 
 salary. So Viravara was recalled, and solemnly installed 
 in office with the betel nut, and received the first payment 
 of the five hundred gold pieces, and stationed himself, 
 sword in hand, at the Rajah's door, remaining there day 
 and night, until sent home by the Rajah himself. 
 
 " In the meanwhile strict inquiry was privately made by 
 the Rajah's orders as to the way in which Viravara spent his 
 pay ; and it was found that one-half was given to the gods 
 and the Brahmins, and of the remainder one-half to the 
 poor, a quarter only being applied to his own maintenance. 
 
 " One very dark night the Rajah, being in his room, 
 heard a strange sound, as of a woman sobbing aloud. 
 ' Who is in waiting ? ' he called out. ' I, sire,' said Vira- 
 vara. ' Go and search out the cause of this sobbing,' said 
 the Rajah. ' I go, sire,' said Viravara, and set off. But 
 the next moment the Rajah bethought himself ' It was 
 wrong,' he said to himself, "to send this royal youth 
 alone in such a night, of darkness thick enough to be run 
 through with a needle. I must go after him.' So, taking 
 his sword, he followed Viravara, who, led by the sound, 
 went out of the town. 
 
 " In a lone spot Viravara found the weeper, a beautiful 
 woman richly attired, and asked her who she was, and 
 why she wept so bitterly. * I,' said she, ' am the Rajah's 
 Lakshmi ' (his Fortune, or good Genius). ' Long have I 
 reposed happily in the shade of his arm ; but now I am 
 going to leave him to his ruin.' ' Is there no way of 
 keeping you here ? ' asked Viravara. The Lakshmi replied, 
 ' If thou wilt make a sacrifice of thy son Saktidhira, who is 
 gifted with the thirty-two auspicious tokens of excellence, 
 to the goddess Sarvamangala, I will prolong my stay. Not 
 else ; ' and, so saying, disappeared. 
 
 " Viravara then went home, roused his wife and son from
 
 68 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 their sleep, and related what he had seen and heard. 
 Saktidhira exclaimed with joy, 'Oh, happy I, that such 
 noble use can be made of me to preserve our master's 
 throne ! "NMiy delay ? A praiseworthy employment of the 
 body this. For, as the saying is, a wise man will give up 
 riches and life itself for the sake of his neighbour : death 
 being inevitable, he will prefer to devote himself for a good 
 end.' The mother said, ' How else can we make due return 
 for the extraordinary salary we enjoy?' 
 
 "So all proceeded to the temple of Sarvamangala, 
 where, after prayer for the prosperity of Sudraka, Viravara 
 besought the goddess to accept his offering, and cut off 
 his son's head. He then reflected that he had now earned 
 the "Rajah's gold, and that after the loss of his son life 
 was worthless to him, and cut off his own head. His 
 wife, seeing herself so bereaved, followed his example, 
 
 " All this was seen by Sudraka with astonishment and 
 admiration. ' Little creatures,' he cried, ' such as I, live 
 and die ; but a man like this there never was before in the 
 world, and never will be. AVhat is my kingdom worth 
 without him ? ' So saying, he raised his sword to lull 
 himself, but his arm was stayed by Sarvamangala : 
 ' Enough, my son. I take thee into my favour. Thy 
 kingdom is safe to the end of thy life.' 'Goddess,' said 
 Sudraka, ' if thou pitiest me, let Viravara, with his wife 
 and son, live with me for the rest of my days, or I follow 
 them in death.' ' I am well pleased, my son,' said the 
 goddess, ' with thy magnanimity and tenderness. Go and 
 prosper. The prince and his family shall live.' So saying, 
 she disappeared, 
 
 " Viravara went home with his wife and son, and Su- 
 draka returned to his palace unobserved. Next morning, 
 seeing Viravara at his post, he questioned him as to what 
 he had found. ' Sire,' said Viravara, ' the weeping woman 
 at the sight of me disajDpeared, and I have no other
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 69 
 
 tidings to relate.' Then the Kajah thoiiglit, ' What 
 heroism and what modesty ! How complete is this man 
 in every virtue.' And forthwith he assembled all his 
 nobles, and, having recounted the whole history, resigned 
 the throne of the Carnatic to Viravara." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 27 April, 1866. ' 
 
 " Spring seems now to have fairly set in, and my only 
 annoyance is, that just when it is opening in all the beauty 
 of the ' dolce stagione fra'l fin d'Aprile, e'l cominciar di 
 Maggio,' I am obliged to go up to the hateful town. I 
 cannot sufficiently thank you for your kind proposal. I 
 am insatiably ravenous of all that relates to the ' bel paese, 
 che'l mar circonda e I'Alpi,' and its j)eople ; and it is indeed 
 very rarely that one has an opportunity of reading anything 
 about it that has not been dressed up for publication." 
 
 Abergw'ili Palace, 1 Jime, 1866. 
 
 " . . . . The ' Italian Refugee,' Gabriele Rossetti. He, 
 as you truly say, * wrote also,' though, I believe, only in 
 Italian. But he was a much more voluminous writer, 
 and of much higher literary distinction, than I should 
 expect Christina, however gifted she may be, will ever 
 become. He was profoundly versed in the oldest Italian 
 and Provencal literature, and had a peculiar theory about 
 the hidden meaning of the poetry of Dante and the 
 Troubadours, which he believed to have a purely poHtical 
 drift, directed against the Papacy. He developed this 
 theory in a number of works. He began an edition of 
 Dante with a commentary illustrative of his views, but it 
 did not go beyond the second volume, and only included
 
 70 BISHOP THIRLWALL'S 
 
 the ' Inferno.' With this was coupled a separate volume, 
 ' Sullo Spirito antipapale che produsse la Riforma,' dedi- 
 cated to Sir Charles Lyell. He also published with the 
 same object five volumes, 'SuU' amor Platonica.' You 
 may conceive what scandal he caused by denying the 
 existence of Dante's Beatrice, and even of Petrarch's 
 Laura. With regard to the former, I confess that I have 
 myself been unable to resist the mass of evidence which 
 he brought to prove that she existed only in Dante's mind, 
 and was one of a large class of what he calls ' Mistiche 
 donne.' He may have over-ridden his hobby, but it is all 
 very curious and interesting. I have also four small 
 volumes of his lyrical poetry, all religious and patriotic, 
 which I believe had some popularity in Italy. But of him 
 enough for an apropos. Did you ever hear music sweeter 
 than the thunder ? ever feel anything more refreshing than 
 the shower? — feel I mean without a sense of moisture, 
 which I hope you have escaped, however it may have sur- 
 prised the sons of Mars." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 26 Jmie, 1866. 
 
 " Your last despatch, prematurely directed to me in Lon- 
 don, has reached me this morning. I do not leave for town 
 until to-morrow. My stay will certainly be short, and I may 
 return this week, but I must make allowance for contin- 
 gencies. I grudge the journey excessively and all the time 
 I shall be detained in London, not merely on account of 
 the beauty of the country, but because the house is just 
 now enlivened by a parcel of merry children enjoying their 
 Midsummer holidays. It was on the 20th, the date of 
 your letter, that I set out, not for London, but for Aber- 
 ayron. You write as if you supposed that I had gone and 
 returned the same day. But the distance is thirty-five
 
 LETTERS TO A FEIEND. 71 
 
 miles, and I travelled with ray own liorses. The rain was 
 incessant until midnight. I did not take any luncheon 
 on the road. The next day, the 21st, was the opening of 
 Henfenyw Church. After the service there was luncheon 
 in a tent, and I ate a small piece of dry bread, purposing 
 to dine at Aberayron ; but as I returned from the church, 
 the prospect of the weather looked so fair, that I deter- 
 mined on getting home that evening. After a rather 
 pleasant drive I arrived between ten and eleven, and, as 
 there was no cold meat in the house, dined or supped 
 upon eggs and bacon. 
 
 " You are quite right in thinking that Rossetti's process 
 of evaporation into a mystic ideal is attended with much 
 greater difficulties in the case of Laura than of Beatrice. In 
 the latter I believe he has often won a strong conviction, in 
 the former he has probably seldom done more than shake 
 the reader's faith. 
 
 " The war cuts me in half I wish success to Austria 
 in Germany, that is defeat and humiliation to Prussia 
 and Bismark, but I wish victor}^ to the Italians. And 
 it is painful to me to think how nearly hopeless it is 
 that both these wishes should be gratified. Yet I could 
 hardly say which I should be willing to sacrifice to the 
 other. 
 
 " The defeat of the Ministry is, I believe, owing to 
 Gladstone's misplaced confidence in human nature. He 
 fancied that the Liberals who had hoisted the banner of 
 Reform on the hustings were mostly in earnest, and 
 meant what they said. To Lowe belongs the merit of 
 having put an end to this delusion, though I hope it will 
 render it impossible for him to find a place anywhere out 
 of his cave. 
 
 " It is a party trick with the Tories to treat John Stuart 
 Mill as a bore. I heard him deliver a most interesting and 
 instructive speech on the Irish landlord and tenant ques-
 
 72 BISHOP tiiirlwall's 
 
 tion, during which every seat on the front bench of the 
 Opposition was emptied. They are not able to see that 
 this affectation of stupidity only injures themselves. By 
 this time, perhaps, they have ceased to be an Opposition. 
 
 If so I warrant that they are serious enough But 
 
 I am grieved to see that the war seems to be running 
 counter to my wishes on both sides. At present the 
 Prussians have it all their own way in Germany, while it 
 looks as if the Italians had already suffered a serious reverse 
 in an imprudent attack on Venetia " 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 6 July, 1866. 
 
 " I write, not to thank you for the continuation of the 
 ' Italian Tour,' nor even for the kindest of letters, which I 
 might have done a little later, but to wish you joy. I 
 hardly know any one else' in these parts who is worthy of 
 such good news. I could hardly believe my eyes this 
 morning when, languidly opening yesterday's Times, I 
 saw in large type ' Austrian Cession of Venetia.' It seems 
 still almost a dream and too good to be true ; but coupled 
 with the decisive defeat in Bohemia — though it does not 
 yet appear whether the two events are connected as cause 
 and effect — it may, I suppose, be taken as certain. That 
 defeat in itself does not by any means give me so much 
 pleasure, and nothing but the independence of Italy 
 could reconcile me to the triumph of Bismark and Prussia. 
 But it will be attended with other results which are by no 
 means so agreeable. All has turned out after the wishes, 
 and probably the plans, of the great conjurer at Paris, and 
 he will realise a handsome profit. It is not a coalfield, 
 you may rely upon it, that will content him. He will 
 make at once for the Rhine ; and it will be a mercy if he 
 does not absorb Belgium as well as the Prussian Rhenish
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 73 
 
 provinces. Tlie Avorst of all is, that ho will almost beyond 
 a doubt lay hands on Antwerp. We shall growl thereat. 
 It will be a serious evil to us — a standing menace, which 
 will cost us a great deal of money and keep us in per- 
 petual uneasiness, and may, at critical junctures, place us 
 in real danger. But yet it will not be a case of war. So 
 much it will have cost to found the Italian nation. ' Tanta) 
 molis erat Romanam condere gentam.' But the Italian 
 unity is worth the price ; nor, if only Bismark was out of 
 the way .... should I consider the German unity as 
 other than a good ; but for the present it will be only a 
 
 stronger despotism My hay is down ; but even 
 
 yesterday some was housed ; and to-day, which is, I 
 hope, the beginning of a longer spell of fair weather, it is 
 going on briskly and prosperously. You have before you 
 a pleasure which I think will be among the highest of the 
 season if you have not read ' Felix Holt ' and ' Baker's 
 Travels.' " 
 
 Aeeegwili Palace, 2 Aug., 1866. 
 
 " I must count it a rare piece" of good fortune to have 
 lost my good looks without any suffering, when it procures 
 me the pleasure of such kind expressions of your anxiety 
 for my health, which, if anything was really the matter 
 with me, would act as an anodyne if not as a panacea. 
 For the same reason I can hardly wish that you should be 
 more open to conviction than I am myself on the question 
 of luncheon. I know that to whatever age my life may 
 be protracted, you would be equally sure to say that I fell 
 a victim to my obstinacy in the matter of luncheon. I 
 am very much obliged to you for the sight of the three 
 letters, which I return. I am delighted with Miss Jews- 
 bury' s story of the tailor's daughter and Carlyle. I do
 
 74 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 not know whether people in general have a notion that he 
 is deficient in feeling. I was always sure of the reverse. 
 I also believed what the late Lord Ashburton used to say 
 of him — that he is a profoundly religious man. (You 
 know he passes for an atheist with some people.) Mr. 
 
 S writes as if he supposed that I have some personal 
 
 interest in the study of Xanthippe's method of scolding. 
 You should let him know that happily (I ought to have 
 said unhappily) I have no opportunity of testing its merits 
 by comparison with any other in my domestic experience. 
 Can he have had access to any MS. of Xenophon's ' Memo- 
 rabilia,' containing specimens of her curtain lectures, as 
 overheard by some Athenian Punch? Though I have 
 no doubt that Socrates often had a very bad time with 
 her, I can also easily conceive that he was not seldom very 
 aggravating to her. AVhat must she have gone through 
 when he stood like a post for twenty-four hours together 
 musing, and only came home when all she had prepared 
 for his day's meals was spoilt. Then at the end of his 
 life he treated her in a way wdiich would have been shame- 
 ful if it had not been after the fashion of all Athenian 
 husbands. I do not remember that you said anything 
 about the Basques that was not quite consistent with what 
 I found in M. Martin's letter. I do not know whether 
 he is acquainted with an essay on the subject by W. v. 
 Humboldt, which is generally considered a classical work, 
 though much has been done since in the same field. I 
 hardly think he will be prepared for all that he will find 
 in Matthew Arnold's ' Essays on the Study of Celtic Litera- 
 ture,' and rather doubt whether he will fully appreciate 
 the exquisitely fine and subtle analysis or the force of all 
 the illustrations. Yet in many respects they are better 
 suited to a French taste — as they constantly remind me 
 of Sainte-Beuve — than to that of us wretched Philistines."
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 75 
 
 Abbrgwili Palace, 14 Aug., 1866. 
 
 " . . . . Does not this crisis of the war drama almost 
 take away your breath, when you think that we may be on 
 the eve of a far greater and more perilous struggle than 
 that which seemed so near to its close ? I observe that a 
 leading German journal treats Louis Napoleon's demand as 
 ' absurd.' That seems to indicate that Prussia will not 
 comply with it ; and it would probably be as much as his 
 crown is worth to recede from it, at least when' it becomes 
 loiown what it is. 
 
 " I have read the two numbers of the ' Villasre on the 
 Cliff,' and found it very pleasant. It is Miss Thackeray's, 
 and at present I like it much better than her 'Ehzabeth ;' 
 but I wish she had continued those modernised Fairy 
 Tales, of which ' Cinderella' was such a happy specimen. I 
 used often to meet Sydney Smith, but never, I believe, saw 
 his brother Bobus, as his friends always called him. He 
 was in many respects, certainly as a writer of Latin verse, 
 superior to Sydney, but not, I should think, quite equal to 
 him in wit or humour. If he was, and all record of it has 
 been lost, he and all of us are very unfortunate 
 
 " Do you know the Indian version of the story of ' Bedd 
 Gellert ' ? Let me take for granted that you do not, and 
 would like to have it. The Brahmin's wife had gone out 
 to perform her ablutions, leaving him at home in charge 
 of their infant. Presently arrives the King's messenger, 
 summoning the Brahmin to the Shraddha — the monthly 
 offering to the departed, at which the officiating Brahmins 
 receive handsome presents. This Brahmin was poor, and 
 could not afford to lose the fee, but was afraid to leave the 
 child alone. Suddenly the thought struck him, ' Here's 
 my faithful ichneumon, Avho has always been to me as a 
 son. I can leave him to take care of baby.' So off he 
 went. Soon after the ichneumon sees a black serpent 
 
 F
 
 76 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 approaching the cradle, and kills it, and, less from appetite 
 than from anger, devours a 2^a,rt of it. The Brahmin, on 
 his return, meets the ichneumon coming affectionately to 
 meet him with his mouth smeared with Ijlood, and hastily 
 kills him ; then comes in and finds his child safe and 
 sound near the remains of the black serpent, and ' goes to 
 extreme grief Whether he erected a monument to the 
 ichneumon does not appear. 
 
 " I must thank you for the last number of the Tour. 
 It made me feel as if I w^as inhaling the mountain air." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 24 Atcg., 1866. 
 
 " .... I have not yet got quite to the bottom of my 
 budget of stories. As you had not heard tlie last, I feel 
 the liveliest hope that the two I have now to send will be 
 new to you. But to-day I only send the Indian one, which 
 you must read first. The European version shall follow 
 to-morrow 
 
 " The Maxim, 
 
 " A base person should not he raised to high estate, 
 
 is illustrated by the story of the Muni and the Mouse, 
 which runs thus : — 
 
 " In a forest of the south once lived a very holy Muni, 
 who by extraordinary austerities had gained almost un- 
 limited powers over nature. He w^as also a kind-hearted 
 man. One day he saw a crow carrying off a little mouse. 
 He bade the crow give it up, and reared it with grains of 
 rice till it had grown up to full mousehood. One day, as 
 the mouse was playing near him, it saw a cat, and in 
 terror ran up the Muni's leg to take shelter in his bosom. 
 ' Poor mouse,' said the Muni, ' be thou a cat.' And so it 
 was. Puss now ins^^ired terror, but felt none ; until one
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 77 
 
 day a big dog came up. Puss put up her back in liorror. 
 * Poor pussy,' said the Muni, ' be thou a dog.' And so it 
 was. ' Who is afraid now ? ' tliought the dog. But one 
 day, having seen a tiger prowHng about, he came to the 
 Muni with his tail between his legs. ' Poor dog,' said the 
 Muni, 'be thou a tiger.' And so it was. The tiger stayed 
 with the Muni, who thought of him only as of a pet 
 mouse. Seeing them together, people said, ' Ah ! there is 
 the saint and the tiger that was once a little mouse.' 
 Upon this the tiger began to reflect ' within himself : ' As 
 long as this Muni lives everybody will know from what a 
 low condition I sjorang. Therefore I must get rid of him.' 
 But the Muni seeing the tiger ready to spring, said, 
 ' Wicked tiger, be thou a mouse again.' And so it was ; 
 and the mouse was presently picked up by a bird, and 
 never came down agam." 
 
 " In a small house in a retired part of Seville lived Don 
 Manuel Fulano, with his elderly housekeeper Jacinta. 
 Don Manuel seldom stirred out, but was all day in his 
 study. He had the reputation of being a wonderfully 
 learned man, indeed of knowing more than he ought. 
 For as he had several Hebrew and Arabic books, the 
 characters of which looked very much like gramarye, he 
 was believed to be versed in magic, the white kind at 
 least, if not the black. 
 
 " One day Jacinta told him there was a young man at 
 the door, who had a letter for him. He ordered him to 
 be shown in. The youth, quite a stripling, whose name 
 was Diego Perez, had brought a letter of recommendation 
 from a friend of Don Manuel. 
 
 " Don Manuel received him courteously, and asked 
 what he could do for him. Diego then stated that ^le 
 w,as going to the university of Salamanca to 2)ursue his 
 
 F 2
 
 78 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 stiulies with a view of entering Holy Orders ; but he 
 admitted that he was not free from ambition, and desired 
 very much to rise in the world. But, having no friends 
 to back him with their interest, he had come to Don 
 Manuel in hopes of getting some little charm, or spell, or 
 amulet, or any of those things which he knew so well, to 
 bring him good luck. 
 
 " On hearing this Don Manuel went to the door of his 
 study, and, opening it, called out ' Jacinta, roast the par- 
 tridges. Don Diego will stay to dinner.' Diego, however, 
 thanking him for his hospitality, was obliged to decline it, 
 as the muleteer with whom he was to travel was waiting 
 for him, and he again preferred his request. 
 
 " Don Manuel then said, ' My young friend, the best 
 thing I can give you is a piece of advice. Work hard ; 
 do your duty ; say your prayers ; and leave the rest to 
 Providence. However,' he added, seeing that Diego seemed 
 disappointed, ' I shall be ready to help you with all the 
 good offices in my power.' On this Diego took his leave, 
 rather vexed than edified by the advice, and only a little 
 comforted by the promise. 
 
 " At Salamanca his career was very brilliant. He took 
 first the bachelor's and then the doctor's degree with 
 extraordinary eclat. 
 
 " The fame of his exercises in the schools reached the 
 Bishop of Burgos, who promoted him to a stall in his 
 cathedral, and not long after, on the death of the dean, he 
 was elected by the chapter to fill his place. His name 
 even reached the court, and the king nominated him to 
 the bishopric of Avila. The new prelate himself was 
 amazed at the rapidity of his elevation, and, though he 
 was fully conscious of his ow^n merits, there were moments 
 when he suspected that he must have owed a part of his 
 good fortune to the good offices of Don Manuel. 
 
 " But all this was nothing compared to what lay in
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 79 
 
 store for him. He was raised to the Arclibishopric of 
 Toledo, and received the ordinary adjunct of a cardinal's 
 hat. Soon after, the Pope died, and Diego went to Rome 
 for the Conclave. Through some singular combination 
 (like that which produced the election of Pio Nono) a 
 majority of votes fell to him. He almost fainted when it 
 was announced to him. Canon, Dean, Bishop, Archbishop, 
 Cardinal, and — now not much turned of forty — Pope ! 
 
 " One morning the cardinal in waiting announced to 
 the Pope that there was an old Spaniard, named Don 
 Manuel Fulano, who solicited an audience of His Holiness, 
 whom he pretended to have known in his youth. The 
 Pope was dreadfully annoyed by this reminiscence of his 
 low beginnings, but ordered Don Manuel to be admitted. 
 Don Manuel came in with a cheerful and confident air, 
 which provoked th« Poj)e still more. Assuming a look of 
 the sternest displeasure, he said, 'Don Manuel, we are 
 surprised that you should presume to venture into our 
 presence. We know that you were commonly reported to 
 be given to forbidden arts. Think yourself well off that 
 you are permitted to leave Rome. If you stay a day 
 longer in our capital you will be lodged in the prisons of 
 the Holy Office.' 
 
 " Don Manuel made no answer, but, going to the door, 
 called out, ' Jacinta, you need not put down the partridges. 
 Don Diego will not stay to dinner.' And, lo! Diego 
 found himself at Don Manuel's door — with his way yet to 
 make in the world." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 4 Sept., 1866. 
 
 " I am very much afraid that your remark on my last 
 couple of twin stories, innocent as it looks, was meant to 
 express the opinion that their Hkeness may be sufficiently
 
 80 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 accounted for by tlic fact that both east and west there 
 have been ungrateful upstarts. I do not think that 
 is at all a satisfactory explanation. The resemblance 
 appears to me to be such that it would be myriads of 
 chances to one that two such illustrations of the truth 
 should have occurred independently to two different 
 minds. I have no more doubt of the identity between 
 Diego and the mouse than of that between Gellert and 
 the ichneumon, and the Indian Muni no less strikingly 
 corresponds with Don Manuel the Magician. The retri- 
 bution of ingratitude might have been exhibited in an 
 infinite variety of other ways. I am not aware that the 
 two stories were ever placed in juxtaposition before ; it 
 was but very recently that I met with the Indian parable. 
 The other I have not seen for some sixty years, when I 
 read it in a magazine the name of which I have now for- 
 gotten, but it so printed itself in my memory that I have 
 a perfectly distinct recollection of the whole framework, 
 including the first and second call to Jacinta about the 
 partridges, and the student's intermediate career. All the 
 rest of course is mere embroidery. Only the shame of 
 the low origin, which is common to Diego and the mouse, 
 is an original feature of both stories. When the transmi- 
 gration of fictions is so weU established a fact, it would be 
 capricious to be sceptical about a particular instance, even 
 if it should be necessary to suppose that some link between 
 the two existing forms had been lost " 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 25 Sept., 1866. 
 
 " I snatch a few moments in the very brief lull between 
 the departure of my candidates and the arrival of a host 
 of Education Boardmen to answer your question as to the 
 Grammar which I spoke of to Mr. Perowne. It is Gam-
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 81 
 
 bold's ; he was a very meritorious person. Through the 
 kindness of the late Mr. Truherne I possess three of his 
 works in MS., the Grammar, and a Welsh-EngHsh and 
 English- Welsh Dictionary. All are written in a small and 
 exquisitely neat hand, and the Grammar is, as I said, the 
 most useful I know for the initial mutations. For a more 
 advanced student, as a guide to the etymology and syntax, 
 I should recommend Rowland's, of which I lately received 
 a copy of the third edition from the author. 
 
 How good it is of you to express satisfaction with your 
 visit ! Though I know it is the effect of your good 
 nature, it mitigates the regret with which I look back 
 upon all the untoward incidents which accompanied it — 
 the dreadful weather, my repeated absences, and my deaf- 
 ness, which makes me a nuisance while it deprives me of 
 
 more than half the pleasure of society The weather 
 
 has shown some siq^ns of relenting-, but how treacherous 
 and fickle ! Last night, as I looked out on that glorious 
 moon and that bank of clouds (which I hope you saw and 
 were reminded by it of the Jungfrau), I actually fancied 
 that the change had come. I Avas even confirmed in the 
 hope by to-day's sunshine, but to be how soon undeceived. 
 I will give up all hope until we have three fine days, and 
 then most likely the fourth will be rainy " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 1 Oct., 1866. 
 
 " I should have accepted your kind offer with pleasure 
 and gratitude if I had been catless, especially as I am 
 particularly fond of good tortoiseshell cats, which are very 
 rare. I once had one which was a perfect beauty, and no 
 less amiable than beautiful. The lovely creature came to 
 an untimely end, killed by a horrid big black dog (abetted, 
 I am afraid, by one of my own, who should have known
 
 82 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 better) who came into the house one Sunday while we 
 were all at church. But I do not venture to introduce a 
 second cat into the family without the express consent of 
 the one now reigning, which I do not expect him to give ; 
 and I remember many j^ears ago receiving a kitten from 
 Aberglasney, which was destroyed by an elder cat of that 
 day ; and, as a general rule, I believe that cats do not get 
 on well together unless they are members of the same 
 
 family I am actually meditating to take a little 
 
 drive this afternoon simply to celebrate the fineness of the 
 day, which has been hitherto without rain. It will be the 
 first I have taken for the sake of an airing for about five 
 weeks. The glass also has risen — if that signifies any- 
 thing — and the whole season has been so anomalous that 
 it would not surprise me if it was to. continue fine till 
 sunset." 
 
 Abehgwili Palace, 11 Oct., 1866. ' 
 
 " . . . . Mrs. Austin had the kindness to send me 
 Lady Duff Gordon's ' Letters from Egypt.' As it is the 
 third edition I suppose you have read them. I am peck- 
 ing at them by snatches and find them delicious, not so 
 much for the descriptions as for the record of the impres- 
 sion she made on the natives, which was evidently that 
 of an angel, and yet was produced simply by the exhibi- 
 tion of human kindness which any traveller might show, 
 but it seems none, not one, had ever been moved to show 
 before ; and I am afraid that the impression was deepened 
 by contrast with the ordinary behaviour of Eurojieans, 
 but especially of her own countrymen. I am afraid that 
 Ave may come to learn what that means when it is too 
 late. That cry in the streets of Meerut is not the less 
 ominous because it is the effect of a delusion. What is,
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 83 
 
 I fear, no delusion, is the feeling with which the English 
 are viewed in India by Hindus and Mussulmans, and, 
 perhajis, by all but a few Parsee Rothschilds. While they 
 confer material benefits on the country, and endeavour 
 to govern it justly, they make themselves detested indi- 
 vidually and expose their empire to danger for Avant of a 
 little civility which would cost them nothing. I do not 
 take in All the Year Round. I stopped it, I now forget 
 why, when the title was changed ; and as my space and 
 time are both limited, and I take in the Cornhill, 
 Macmillan, Good Words, the Fortnightly, and the 
 Contemporary, to say nothing of the SiJectator and the 
 Saturday, and four or five German periodicals, I feel that 
 I am suflUciently provided with this branch of literature, 
 which would be capable, if one were to let it, of absorbing 
 every hour of a hard-reading man. 
 
 " . , . . Novel-writers are, as I understand, subject to 
 such strange fluctuations that it is quite possible for one 
 to bring out an excellent story after heaps of trash. What 
 makes me particularly shy of one whose character I have 
 to learn for myself is an idiosyncrasy which makes it 
 hard for me to give up a book which I have begun though" 
 I find it bad. It has happened to me but very rarely 
 indeed — once was with that American story, which some 
 people thought delightful, ' The Wide, Wide World.' I 
 struggled through about half of it, but at last .... I 
 could hold up no longer. What is the practical conclu- 
 sion of all this ? It is just to ask whether you would like 
 
 to make this venture on 's book, and let me know 
 
 how much of it you Avere able to read. I must close 
 hastily for the post."
 
 1867.
 
 AnERGWiLi, Neiu Year's Bay, 1867. 
 
 " I HAD fully intended to gild and sweeten the close of 
 the old year for myself by a letter which you should 
 receive this day ; but wishing first to be at liberty from 
 official business, I had to plunge into a thicket of corre- 
 spondence, from which, as it turned out, I could not extri- 
 cate myself until it was too near post time to begin the 
 only letter which I really desire to write. I have now 
 the advantage of being able to send you the wishes of the 
 New Year without forestalling the future. But words 
 cannot convey the feeling with which they spring from my 
 heart, so as to distinguish them from conventional com- 
 plimentary phrases. 
 
 " You must give me credit for a great deal more than 
 language can express. Though not in accordance with 
 common practice, it will be a surer proof of my regard for 
 you if I take you to task, and scold you a little this 
 New Year's Day, in the hope that you w^ill now turn over 
 a new leaf, and break yourself of the only fault that I have 
 hitherto been able to perceive in you. 
 
 "It is not that which you lay to your owti charge, but 
 rather just the reverse. You talk of distrusting yourself, 
 and this is evidently a cause of real unhappiness to j-ou. 
 But the fact is that you trust yourself a great deal too 
 much, while exactly in the same degree you distrust all 
 your best friends. Will you never be persuaded to rely a 
 little less upon your own judgment and to place a little
 
 88 BisHor thirlwall's 
 
 more confidence in theirs ? Is it not presumptuous to set 
 up your own opinion against one in which they are unani- 
 mously opposed to it ? 
 
 " Why will you think so lightly of them as not to give 
 them credit for being able to discern your character better 
 than you can yourself? Is it not universally admitted 
 that to know one's self is the most difficult of all things, 
 and that if we differ in our appreciation from those who 
 have the best oj)portunities of knowing what we really 
 are, it is quite certain that they are in the right and we in 
 the wrong ? Why will you insist on making yourself out 
 to be an exception to the general rule, and keep on sus- 
 pecting and accusing yourself, when all your friends are 
 thoroughly agreed that they know of no one more deserv- 
 ing of their love and honour ? . . . , Now do listen to my 
 paternal admonitions ; correct this fault, be a little more 
 humble and modest, think better of your friends, and sub- 
 mit to their judgment — trust your own only so far as it 
 agrees with theirs. You will certainly be rewarded for 
 this improvement in your conduct by a notable increase of 
 tranquillity and cheerfulness in your view both of the past 
 and of the future ; and in the hope that you will be 
 buxom and good, I conclude my New Year's Lecture 
 
 " I have now again the pleasure of seeing youthful faces 
 about me, there being eight of John's children in the 
 house. Unhappily my deafness prevents me from enjoy- 
 ing much of their prattle. Just now we had a band of 
 singers, who always come to regale my ears on New Year's 
 morning ; but, though they were within a few yards of the 
 window, I could not catch the faintest sound, and if I had 
 not seen them shotild have had no suspicion of their 
 presence "
 
 LETTERS TO A FllIEND. 89 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 3 Jan., 18G7. 
 
 " I send this to introduce some of the passengers who 
 are to travel by the box. The one that I wish to commend 
 to your earliest notice is Eugenie de Guerin. The journal 
 passed through twelve editions in a very short time. It 
 was described by the Edinburgh Review as ' the outpour- 
 ing of one of the purest and most saintly minds that ever 
 existed upon earth.' It, or at least Eugdnie, is the subject 
 of one of Matthew Arnold's ' Essays,' in which he expresses 
 the warmest admiration for her genius as well as her cha- 
 racter. It is therefore absolutely necessary that you should 
 form her acquaintance. I think you will share this feel- 
 ing, though it cannot be either expected or desired that 
 you should sympathize with all the expressions of her 
 piety. If you feel sufficient interest in the journal to wish 
 to know more of her and hers, I have a volume of her 
 letters, and the ' Remains ' of her brother Maurice. 
 
 " You ought also to know Sainte-Beuve. Matthew 
 Arnold — no mean judge — looks up to him as ' the prince 
 of critics.' I have always found his ' Causeries ' (of which 
 there are many volumes) perfectly delicious sketches of 
 men and books. 
 
 " You will probably find Dumas' ' Impressions de 
 Voyages,' which is part of a voluminous series, amusing 
 enough to carry you through both the volumes ; but if you 
 should read no other part, you must not fail to look for a 
 sermon about St. Joseph, which you will find near the end 
 of the second volume. 
 
 " I send the first volume of Mignet's ' Notices 
 Historiques,' because while there is a good deal of interest- 
 ing biography, they are, perhaps, the most finished speci- 
 men of highly polished French prose. I had been long 
 in possession of them, but had not opened them until 
 Mrs. Austin happened to speak of them as perfect models
 
 90 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 of style, and I have read them with a very lively relish. 
 Vol. II. contains a ' Life of Franklin.' 
 
 " This reminds me of Jesse, whose first volume I send, 
 having read it, on the whole, with great pleasure. I think 
 I observe a little improvement in the style, or else the 
 interest of the narrative makes one overlook its defects. It 
 supplies the flesh and blood to the dry skeleton of the 
 merely political history, and at the same time often reveals 
 the hidden springs of great events as it unfolds the per- 
 sonal character of the actors. I think it gives a fairer 
 estimate of the character of George III. than I have seen 
 elsewhere. But that fatal folly of the American war casts 
 a deep gloom over the whole period. 
 
 " The ' Colonna Infame ' is a supplemental episode of 
 the ' Promessi Sposi.' It is a tragical and most sad history, 
 but exceedingly interesting and instructive. It is a signal 
 illustration of three distinct stages in the progress of 
 human folly : 1, the beginning, an utterly false impression 
 passively received from some accidental association ; 2, 
 the harbouring of the delusion without any attempt at 
 investigation, and adopting it as if it had the certainty of 
 a mathematical proof ; 3, the climax and consummation, 
 in which the idle fancy becomes a ground for the perpetra- 
 tion of the most enormous crimes. 
 
 "The ' Me'moires d'un Protestant condamne aux 
 Galeres ' have all the air of reality. It was only after 
 I had read them, with much interest, and without any 
 misgiving, that I had a doubt of their genuineness. But 
 I believe it is still only a doubt, and does not affect the 
 reality of the condition described. You will also, I think, 
 be interested in the ' M^moires de Madame de Noailles,' 
 which are of unquestionable reality. In the conversation 
 in the shades between Machiavel and Montesquieu you 
 will find a satire on the second Empire which has not often 
 been equalled for keenness and polish.
 
 LETTEES TO A FKIEND. 91 
 
 "I do not know whether you have read About' s 
 ' Maitre Pierre,' or the ' Legende Celtique,' or ' Rdcits 
 Bretons,' or Souvestre ' Chroniques do la Mer,' or ' lloman 
 de la Table lionde.' If you have, stop it, and I will try 
 something else in its stead, or at least lighten the box 
 of it. 
 
 " In the third volume of Henri Martin, you will find, 
 beside the part relating to Celtic literature, many very 
 romantic passages of mediaeval history. It is one of six- 
 teen volumes of about the same bulk. 
 
 " Finally, I insert two books which I wish you to keep 
 for my sake. The ' Guesses at Truth ' will tell their own 
 story in the fly-leaf and the Memoir, which is written by 
 Professor Plumptre, The ' Antiquities of Llandegai ' I 
 only send because, through some hallucination, I sub- 
 scribed for two copies, and I do not see your name in the 
 list of subscribers. Remember that I do not want you to 
 read all this boxful, but only to sip and taste, and lay 
 aside whatever you do not relish, and, where you like thv 
 sample, call for more. 
 
 " Pray keep yourself warm. I cannot. This frost is 
 too sharp to be enjoyable by me. I hope you will thaw 
 it at home." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 8 Jan., 1867. 
 
 ". . . . The box is to go to-day by train to . I 
 
 send the key in another envelope. You will find at the 
 top a copy of my Swansea address, which I received after 
 
 my last letter. I return that of the Bishop of . It 
 
 would have been quite safe with me if it liad contained 
 the gravest secrets of state, for I cannot decipher a 
 single entire sentence, not even the verses with the help 
 of the metre and the rhyme. What wisdom Lord Palmer- 
 
 G
 
 92 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 ston showed in attacliing so much importance to a legible 
 hand ! How much precious time it sj^ares ! How much 
 painful fretting it prevents !,..." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 12 Jan., 1867. 
 
 " . . . . Within the last thirty or forty hours our 
 weather has passed through three or four changes : frqm 
 temperate cold to severe frost, from frost to pretty heavy 
 snow, but with great mitigation of the cold. Now the 
 sun seems to have half a mind to come out, and help the 
 earth off with her white sheet. But when I recollect my 
 sufferings of last week and that you shared them, I do not 
 feel easy about the issue. 
 
 " I am cradling myself — according to the happy French 
 phrase — in the hoj)e of seeing you. I long for your next, 
 and yet shall open it with trembling, lest it should dis- 
 solve my enchanting view into thin cold air, and leave me 
 in the state of a traveller whose mirage has turned out to 
 be a parched waste." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 14 Jan., 1867. 
 
 " How very lucky it is that you discovered your mis- 
 take, which I had not perceived. If you had come the 
 wrong day you would have afforded great pleasure to me, 
 but would not have received so much yourself. I was 
 
 well aware of the aj)proaching festivities at A . That 
 
 was just the cause of my asking you for the week after. I 
 hope it will be all the better for being late, and that both 
 you and your father will be all the fitter for travelling. 
 The weather, however, though piercingly cold, is not I 
 think unhealthy for travelhng with good wraps in the
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 93 
 
 middle of the day. When once you have crossed my 
 threshold it will be my business to watch over you and 
 your ftither, to prevent, if possible, a breath of cold air 
 from reacliing you, if any should then be blowing. I 
 rather rejoice in the present frost, bitter as it is, because 
 it is so much the less likely to last to the end of the 
 month. I feel it now for you more than for myself I 
 think I am getting inured to it. The icy plunging-bath 
 which I take every morning is, I believe, the best safe- 
 guard from cold. At least, what used at one time to 
 befall me regularly every year is now a thing of ver}^ rare 
 
 occurrence and very short continuance 
 
 " I know you are on an angel's errand at , pouring 
 
 balm into an afflicted soul. What a privilege to be sure 
 that you bring joy or comfort wherever you go." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 16 Jan., 1867. 
 
 " I am by no means a rigid Sabbatarian, or in any way 
 a Judaizer. On the contrary, I believe that infinite mis- 
 chief has been and is done by the Puritanical observance 
 of the Sabbath enforced on the unwilling, especially the 
 young, whom I believe it has often entirely alienated from 
 religion, and driven by the recoil into evil courses. At 
 the same time, personally, I enjoy the Sabbatical stillness 
 and rest, which I value specially as a holiday from letter- 
 writing. If letter- writing is a breach of the Sabbath, I 
 can take no credit to myself for eschewing the offence, 
 as it is one I am not at all ' inclined to,' and therefore 
 could not honestly condemn others who have a mind 
 to it 
 
 " I am so glad that you like what you have seen of 
 Eugenie. Her lettere, Avhich I am still reading, are, 
 perhaps, even more delightful than the journal, though 
 
 G 2
 
 94 BISHOP THIELWALL'S 
 
 that, as you see, is in fact a series of letters to a single 
 correspondent. One thing that is very pleasing is the 
 view they give of French country life in an old manor- 
 house in Languedoc, inhabited by an old family in reduced 
 circumstances, which oblige the daughters to take part in 
 the homeliest details of housekeeping, while yet they cul- 
 tivate and intensely enjoy the most delicate pleasures of 
 the mind and the heart. Eugenie is a truly heavenly- 
 minded person, whose religion is of the kind described by 
 St. James, manifesting itself in the continual exercise of 
 the tenderest affections toward all around her, and in 
 incessant labours of love. You will also sympathize, as 
 few can do, with her love of nature, and her keen percep- 
 tion and enjoyment of all its beauties. Do not omit to 
 send me bulletins of your father's health " 
 
 Abekgwili Palace, 26 Jan., 1867. 
 
 " .... I am glad that you were able to take part 
 
 in the festivities of A without being knocked up by 
 
 them. Sometimes I believe an extraordinary exertion is 
 a cure for weakness. Some years ago I had a cat who was 
 reduced to the very last stage of inanition and debility. 
 As a last chance I sent her into Carmarthen in a basket 
 for medical advice. On the way she took fright at some- 
 thing or other, jumped out of the basket, and scampered 
 some distance before she was caught. That effort and 
 shock saved her life. From that moment, without any 
 other perceptible cause, she began to recover, and lived 
 many years after. 
 
 " I hope that on your return home you will find your 
 father quite restored, and continue to receive good accounts 
 of poor . I have myself a dread of surgical opera- 
 tions like Sir Robert Peel's, so that I cannot bear to think
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 95 
 
 of them, and cases which I sometimes hear of, of cruelty 
 to animals, haimt me and disturb my rest " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 31 Jan., 1867. 
 
 " . . . . Did you know that my birthday was to be 
 solemnised in London by a great Eeform demonstration ? 
 You are one of the very few who have a right to be in 
 that secret, as I am sure that you will think of me on that 
 day " 
 
 1, Regent Street, 19 Feb., 1867. 
 
 " . . . . When I was writing yesterday I forgot what 
 I had said about the birthday procession. I had no need 
 to go on to the balcony or to open my window, for one 
 branch of the procession defiled immediately under it, 
 down Regent Street, on its way to Trafalgar Square, while 
 from another Avindow I could see the main body as it 
 issued from Pall ]\Iall East on its march westward. That 
 which I saw nearest was probably a fair sample of the 
 whole, and, having been an eye-witness, I was amused with 
 the different accounts of the thing which were given by 
 persons who viewed it with different feelings. Some were 
 impressed with the ' determined look ' of the men, while 
 to the Saturday Review it presented the aspect of a 
 ' shabby, dispirited, and silent procession.' In those that 
 I saw there was as little token of ' determination ' as of low 
 spirits, and it struck me that they were, in general, dressed 
 rather above than below their condition. But the ' silence ' 
 was, indeed, only broken by instrumental music "
 
 96 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 1, Regent Street, 23 Feb., 1867. 
 
 " I deeply feel the sweet sentiment which disposes you 
 to be ' almost satisfied ' with such a page as you describe ;* 
 but I could not, and I think ought not, to bring myself 
 
 to write such a nominal letter Your suggestion 
 
 reminds me of the last picture in Fun. A number ol 
 M.P.'s, with Bright and Russell at their head, are throng- 
 ing with eager curiosity to look at a large picture of 
 Tieform in a magnificent frame. Disraeli is standing on the 
 other side, and, with great solemnity and earnestness, is 
 drawing aside a curtain, which reveals a perfectly blank 
 canvas, which he invites them to fill up as they think 
 best. (Here I am forced to go out on my return.) But 
 was I forced ? That is a knotty metaphysical question. I 
 was only forced so far as I had previously made up my 
 mind to go and see the designs for the new Law Courts 
 at Lincoln's Inn, and this was the last day and the last 
 hour for seeing them. That was the motive, and it pre- 
 vailed, with the less reluctance as I thought you might like 
 to hear a little about them. They are all gigantic, and I 
 suppose the plainest would cost three or four times the 
 two-thirds of a million, now allotted to them. Scott's 
 were, perhaps, the most sumptuous, but the least practical, 
 not only on account of the enormous expense of the 
 execution, but also on account of the exceeding richness 
 and delicacy of the ornaments, all of which would be 
 inevitably effaced by the soot of a single winter. I think, 
 on the whole, I was rather inclined in favour of Street's, 
 which had been evidently, and I think happily, affected 
 by his study of the Spanish architecture, manifesting itself 
 in a plain and massive style which I thought well suited 
 to the purpose of the building " 
 
 * A Buggestion that tlie Bishop should not trouble himself by writing a long 
 letter.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 97 
 
 St. David's Day, 1, Regent Street, 1867. 
 
 " I was not able yesterday even to open your letter — 
 which I reserved to refresh me after the morning's work — 
 before post time, as I lost the whole forenoon for practical 
 purposes, though otherwise by no means unpleasantly, and 
 what remained was barely sufficient for the most indispen- 
 sable despatches. Did you ever breakfast in London ? or, 
 in other words, go out to a London breakfast ? Very few 
 ladies do, and therefore it is not unlikely that you never 
 did. In fact, the number of people who give them is very 
 small, and has in my own time been sadly reduced by the 
 departure of Rogers, Hallam, and Macaulay, But Milnes 
 still continues to give breakfasts, and his were always 
 among the pleasantest, partly from his knowing everybody, 
 and partly from his fancy for bringing the apparently most 
 incongruous people together — as I once met an officer in 
 the Egyptian service who was a French renegade. It was 
 with him I spent my forenoon. The party consisted 
 entirely of men, all more or less of mark. I am grieved 
 to find that the shock from the fire at Crewe has per 
 manently affected Lady Houghton's health, so as to cause 
 the greatest uneasiness. Among the party were two 
 Americans, both agreeable, and one, whose name you may 
 have heard — Bayard Taylor — of some distinction as a 
 traveller and a poet. There was also a young peer. Lord 
 Wentworth, who possesses the interest of being Lord 
 
 Byron's grandson I had seen very little of him 
 
 before, and I did not hear him say anything at breaMast ; 
 but, as we were leaving the house at the same time and 
 going the same way, we walked together as far as my 
 hotel, engaged in the most earnest conversation on the 
 subject of Ritualism, Avhich he opened almost the moment 
 we set out, and pursued with great eagerness, not without 
 ability, though many of his notions needed correction. I
 
 ^8 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 wonder what his f^randfixther would have thought if he 
 could have heard it ! 
 
 " . . . . To-morrow I go by appointment with Mr. Vaux 
 to the British Museum, to see the Blaeas collection of gems 
 • — one of the very few subjects on which Gladstone and 
 Disraeli were unanimous. That reminds me that on the 
 25th ult. I worked my way through the most fearful crush, 
 perhaps, ever known in the lobby of the House of Com- 
 mons, to a seat under the gallery, and heard Disraeli, Lowe, 
 Bright, and Gladstone. Disraeli spoke as from an uneasy 
 consciousness, and received no encouragement from his 
 friends. Lowe's speech was sparkling with no doubt care- 
 fully prepared but happy points, which provoked much 
 laughter ; but he certainly did not sit down, as the Times 
 reported, amid loud cheers. They were few and faint, and, 
 I imagine, presented a strong contrast to the enthusiasm 
 with which he was greeted last year. Bright's voice 
 appeared to be out of order, but his speech was a fair 
 sample of his style of eloquence. I was struck by one 
 thing : that during Lowe's speech, and before, when Disraeli 
 said several things with which the House was much amused, 
 Bright never for a moment relaxed his severe features into 
 a smile There is an evident beginning of diver- 
 gence between him and Gladstone, which must go on 
 widening 
 
 " Landseer's lions are very splendid creatures — real, not 
 conventional. They improve the whole aspect of the 
 square immensely. It is said there is to be another 
 Reform gathering there to-morrow. I hope no damage 
 will be done to the lions. They are too good not to 
 provoke attacks, and hardly seem to be sufficiently pro- 
 tected 
 
 " One of the persons I met last night was the poet 
 Browning. I was amused to find that he has a pet owl 
 who is inseparable from him. He gave a very enter-
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 99 
 
 taining description of his struggles to reach his own house 
 after dining out on the night when every street in London 
 was a sheet of the smoothest ice, and only four cabs, as 
 the drivers asserted, in circulation " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 18 March, 1867. 
 
 " I now breathe again a little, the white-robed ones 
 having taken flight, I now want very much to hear that 
 you have returned home safe and sound, though it will 
 be little short of a miracle if you have escaped through 
 such a week .... without catching cold. I have not 
 escaped myself, and the only wonder is that any one not 
 made of cast iron, should. As I stood in front of the 
 east window of the church I felt a torrent of cold air 
 rushing in, and thought that some pane must have been 
 broken. I afterwards felt the severity of the blast as I 
 was feeding my geese — a duty which is most indispen- 
 sable when the state of the weather renders it most 
 unpleasant ; but as my head was covered I do not attribute 
 the result to this, but rather, if it was of any use to guess, 
 to the blow in church. The cold declared itself only as I 
 was sitting down to dinner. My chaplain exhibited five 
 homoeopathic globules to me before bedtime. Possibly 
 they have done me some good, though I have not got rid 
 of the cold. My hope is that it may serve for both of us. 
 
 " During these dreadful bitter gales I cannot help think- 
 ing of poor souls who are struggling with them at sea, in 
 terror for their lives, which alone diverts the sense of 
 intense bodily suffering. 
 
 " I also return the * Tichbourne Dole.' It need not be 
 the less historically exact, because there are, I believe, a 
 good many such stories illustrating the peril of sacrilegious 
 confiscation of Church property. A person of a sceptical
 
 100 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 turn might odiously suspect that, though the main facts 
 are true, the ' prophecy ' may have been ante-dated. And 
 I suppose there are nowadays people who would go the 
 length of raising the question whether Lady Mabel's genu- 
 vagations gave the land its name, or the name— perhaps 
 through a false spelling — suggested the legend. Let us 
 beware of so picking such tender flowers to pieces as to 
 lose all their beauty and fragrance, and keep nothing but a 
 handful of dry yellow leaves. Your ghost story is very 
 
 good, and I would swear to it I have been reading 
 
 over your letters of the last fortnight again. They are so 
 full of pleasant things that I can hardly touch on all of 
 them. I never saw that daughter of Lord Lovelace, nor, 
 as far as I know, himself. Many years ago I was on a 
 visit at Ockham to the old Lord King, who was a very 
 agreeable and, I believe, a kind-hearted man. Lord Lovelace 
 was at that time in Greece, taking part, I believe, in 
 the War of Independence ; and I remember he had sent 
 several Greek newspapers home. But his father did not 
 at all sympathize with his philhellenic enthusiasm, and 
 
 thought it was thrown away You probably know 
 
 that Lady Lovelace for a long while enjoyed the credit of 
 being the author of ' Vestiges of Creation.' .... 
 
 " May not the crow who was the object of that com- 
 bined attack from his fellows have been previously hurt 
 and helpless ?— a condition which is supposed to pro- 
 voke hostility among several of the lower tribes of animals, 
 if not sometimes among certain classes of the human 
 race 
 
 " I wish with all my heart that I had a British coin 
 which Avould confute that abominable theory* which excites 
 your just indignation. One could almost find in one's heart 
 to manufacture one for the purpose. But the fact is, that 
 I am in a state of shameful ignorance with regard to coins, 
 
 * The theory that no British coins have been found west of the Severn.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 101 
 
 especially those of Britain As you expressed a wish 
 
 to know what I had said on St. David's Day, I send a 
 report which has come this morning. I do it partly for 
 m}'- own sake, because you might have received it from 
 some other quarter, and I should have been sorry that you 
 should have sujjposed I had uttered the nonsense of the 
 concluding sentences. But thereby hangs a tale, which I 
 must not suppress, though it is not flattering to my self- 
 love. The part relating to the Church was listened to 
 patiently and with some appearance of interest ; but when 
 I entered on the topic of the Church in Wales, cries arose 
 from the farther part of the room of ' Time ! Time ! ' 
 meaning that I was taking up too much. You will of 
 course believe that they were the effect of impatience, not 
 on the part of those who heard, but of those who could 
 not hear. You may also attribute it to the general eager- 
 ness for the procession of the children, which was to begin 
 next. I know that your hypothesis, whatever it may be, 
 will be that which Avill most soothe my self-complacency. 
 The effect, however, was that the first part of the speech, 
 which could not altogether have taken up more than three 
 minutes, is reported correctly enough, with the exception 
 of two absurd epithets, while the end is a mass of non- 
 sense. .... 
 
 " Yesterday there was an evident struggle between Wind 
 and Snow — Wind acting as policeman, and saying in a very 
 gruff voice, ' Snow, you must keep off.' One therefore 
 supposed that when notwithstanding Snow came down it 
 would bring Wind down with it. But lo ! Snow has come 
 down with Wind on its back. How am I to get to my 
 geese ? I know what you think of my going to them on 
 such a day. But when, if not now, can they be glad to see 
 me and miss my coming more ? 
 
 "I am reading two books which you must read some 
 time or other — Massimo d'Azeglio's autobiogra2)hy, ' I miei
 
 102 BISHOP thtrlwall's 
 
 Eicordi,' and Dixon's ' New America,' which is intensely 
 interesting and quite admirably written." 
 
 Abergwixi Palace, 21 March, 1867. 
 
 " You will have been reassured by the report I sent as 
 to the last instance of my supposed imprudence. But for 
 your further comfort let me remind you that it was nothing 
 new, but that I have been addicted to the same habit for 
 many years, and doing the same thing for many winters, 
 and in more severe weather than that of this March, and 
 not only without any harm, but with great benefit, of which 
 I am sure you would not Avish to deprive me by inducing 
 me to take any rash vow. There have been days out of 
 number Avhen, if it had not been for the sake of my geese, 
 I should not have stirred out of doors, and should have 
 lost the exercise which has no doubt contributed to my 
 health and vigour, and has lengthened my life. When you 
 think of my geese as creatures to which I am indebted for 
 such benefits, you Avill feel that I cannot do too much for 
 them. Fresh snow is beginning to fall, though the old is 
 lying in large patches." 
 
 Lady Bay, Abergwhi Palacb. 
 
 " . . . . I have, thank God, got rid of my second 
 pamphlet, and so feel as if I was enjoying a holiday, 
 though in fact it is only the difference between one kind 
 of work and another ; only I always find that anything 1 
 am preparing for the press unfits me for any other kind 
 of work. I had no right to complain of attacks on my 
 Charge, as I could not but be conscious that it contained
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 103 
 
 things which must be very disagreeable to a great number 
 of people ; and, ^in fact, I jfind that I have put my foot 
 into a nest of hornets. 
 
 " Pray do not abuse the people who cried ' Time.' It was 
 a voice of nature which they could not suppress ; and they 
 no doubt believed that they were promoting the interest of 
 all present, and, perhaps, were doing so. I had no reason 
 to be dissatisfied with my reception, but, on the contrary, 
 as I followed in the wake of the royalties down the hall, 
 was surprised to find myself very warmly cheered by a 
 number of persons whose friendly faces were unluiown to 
 me, though they were lighted up with manifest enthusiasm 
 at the sight of mine. Also in the crush-room some one 
 equally unknown to me thanked me for my speech, and 
 expressed a hope that it would be reported. That was 
 surely balm enough to heal the wound inflicted on my 
 self-love if I had been more sensitive to such hurts than I 
 am. But the fact is, that the form which my self-love 
 takes is that of pride much more than of vanity. But of 
 this more than enough " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 1 April, 1867- 
 
 " . . . . I am much obliged for the sight of that plea- 
 sant letter from Henri Martin. I am not yet au courant 
 of the discoveries to which he alludes in Cambridge, What 
 are they, and where is there an account of them to be 
 found ? 
 
 " I rejoice that you are perpetuating some of your 
 choicest Italian recollections. I retain a rather liveUer 
 image of Lugano than of most parts of the Lake region, 
 having visited it twice : once, when with a party of friends 
 I crossed over to it from the Lake of Como ; and as^ain 
 when having walked through Switzerland from Schaff-
 
 104 
 
 liausen, crossing the St. Gothard on the 2nd November, 
 and paced the dreary monotonous valley which ends at 
 Bellinzona with a friend (and servant who acted as pack- 
 horse), our patience, though not our strength, gave way, 
 and at Bellinzona we took a carriage to Lugano, having 
 originally intended to walk to Milan. 
 
 " I do remember having seen marvellous Luinis at 
 Lugano, but that is the only fact I can recall. We did 
 not scale San Salvatore. That Lago di Piano I do not 
 remember to have seen. 
 
 " I am waiting for the account of your visit to Varese, 
 where the panorama of the Alps, visible from the Monte, 
 impressed me more deeply than any I have ever seen. I 
 saw it both morning and evening, and I do not know 
 which view more took away one's breath. I hope you did 
 not miss it. I cannot give you a stronger proof of my 
 affection than that hope — if it is sincere ; because I dare 
 say you know that, when travellers interchange their expe- 
 rience, nothing delights them' so much as to find that they 
 have seen something interesting which others lost. It is 
 not amiable, but it is human nature. 
 
 " . . , . Why should you suppose that I think you 
 superficial, because I consider your reading of my Charge 
 as an act of heroic sacrifice to friendship ? Surely 
 you do not pretend to the privilege of an appetite for 
 reading so indiscriminately ravenous, that you never find 
 any dry. I must own that though my own book-hunger 
 is very keen, I cannot say that nothing comes amiss to me, 
 but must own that there are some kinds of books which I 
 find it very hard to read ; and I remember seeing it 
 observed, I think in the Times, that my Charge was ' very 
 hard reading.' If you insist ujwn it that you are equal to 
 any, pray ask your father to let you have Fearne's ' Trea- 
 tise on Contingent Remainders,' and shut yourself up with 
 it (alone) between breakfast and luncheon. It is con-
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 105 
 
 siderecl quite a classical work — the most eloquent piece of 
 law in our language. Or ask for ' Saunders on Uses,' 
 or for the volume of ' Comyn's Digest ' containing the 
 Law of Real Property. In fact, I would almost consent 
 to test your universality by the second book of Black- 
 stone, though lawyers, I believe, count that almost 
 frivolous reading. Whenever you are able to lay your 
 hand on your heart and declare that you have spent a 
 pleasant morning over any of these productions — I will 
 not even ask you to read through the Church Building 
 Acts — but will admit that I have done you a wrong, and 
 throw myself on your mercy. 
 
 "As there is evidently nothing of mine which you can- 
 not read, I send you a sermon." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 10 April, 1867. 
 
 " .... I really cannot approve of your making your- 
 self a martyr by reading or attempting to read that history, 
 which is generally admitted to be excessively dry and hard 
 — worse, if possible, than a Charge. But I am particu- 
 larly anxious to know whether you have been reading the 
 first edition, as it appeared in ' Larduer's Cyclopaedia,' or that 
 in eight vols. 8vo, which was published afterwards. If it is 
 the former, let me adjure you to lay it aside, and return to 
 the much more pleasant as well as profitable reading of M. 
 Martin's excellent work. If you insisted that you could 
 not be happy without a farther sacrifice to mine, some 
 opportunity may be found, or made, of supplying you with 
 the Library edition, which, especially in some of the later 
 volumes, contains very important additions and corrections, 
 and is the only one I recognise as my work, though God 
 knows I have little reason to be proud of it." . . . ,
 
 106 BISHOP thiklwall's 
 
 18 April, 1867. 
 
 " . . . . Grote's great work is not less distinguished 
 by extensive and accurate learning, than by depth 
 and originality of thought, and it is very 'popular with 
 
 readers who are able to appreciate these qualities 
 
 Mr. does not seem to be aware that we have a book 
 
 on Mahomet and Islam far superior to that of Barth^lemy 
 St. Hilaire — Col. Muir's ' Life of Mahomet,' drawn with 
 great accuracy and judgment from the original sources, to 
 which, I believe, the Frenchman had not access. I think 
 that oj)inion has veered round from an unjust appreciation 
 to an extravagant and unfounded admiration of the Pro- 
 l^het, who was not a Mahometan any more than Wilkes 
 was a Wilkite." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 17 April, 1867. 
 
 " I do not know how much I shall be able to say, or 
 shall be forced to leave unsaid, before post time, and 
 therefore begin at the latest and most practical question — 
 as to my future. Yes ! I do intend to preach at St. Peter's 
 next Sunday ; but I strongly advise you to adhere to the 
 path of duty, as you may rest assured you will gain nothing 
 by departing from it. And I, who am to supply the 
 motive, ought to know. Next, I must try to take off the 
 edge of your curiosity by a little account of the past. 
 
 " On the whole, my second visit was quite as satisfactory, 
 in some respects even more pleasant, than the first, though 
 singularly different in its circumstances. I arrived at six, 
 when the Queen was out for a drive, and expected as usual 
 to dine with the household, the preacher being always 
 invited to the royal table, if at all, for the Sunday. I was 
 therefore much surprised by receiving a message that I
 
 LETTERS TO A FKIEND. 107 
 
 was to dine witli tlie Queen that evening. We \vcrt3 nine 
 at table : five of the Royal Family, including the Prince 
 and Princess Christian, Prince Arthur, and Princess Louise, 
 and four guests, Lady Churchill, Countess Blucher, the 
 Dean of Windsor, and myself. The conversation at dinner 
 was entirely sustained between the Queen and the guests. 
 When the Queen rose she came directly to me, and we 
 had a very long chat, beginning with rny Charge, which 
 she had been reading. She then passed to Celtic matters 
 — the visit to Tenby — making me observe how * Arthur ' 
 had grown since, and the appropriateness of his name. 
 Then we interchanged information about Celtic dialects ; 
 she was not aware of the exact relation between them ; but 
 in return for the Welsh for Queen was able to tell me the 
 Gaelic, ban-ri, which I did not know, and which she not 
 only kncAV, but perfectly understood in its etymology. She 
 had not been aware that I was able to jDreach, &c., in Welsh. 
 The first thing I heard at breakfast next morning (after a 
 loud peal in honour of the Princess Beatrice's birthday, 
 which Lord J. Manners took for an alarm of fire) was 
 that the Princess C. had been taken ill that night at 
 three, within six hours after I had been at table with her ! 
 And we were kept in suspense until five p.m., when it 
 ended happily, as you will have seen. 
 
 " After breakfast she sent me a message by the Dean of 
 AVindsor, that she was very sorry she should not be able to 
 attend the twelve o'clock service, and asking me to send 
 her the MS. of my sermon, which of course I did as soon 
 as it was discharged. The afternoon was very plea- 
 santly divided between the library — magnificent oriental 
 MSS. and rare miniatures — St. George's Chapel and a won- 
 derful dramatic anthem — which, though arranged by Dr. 
 Elvey, I believe to be of media3val origin, being a musical 
 picture of the Crucifixion — a stroll on the terrace, and, 
 finally, the household dinner, where all the people were 
 
 H
 
 108 BlSIIOr THIRL wall's 
 
 very pleasant, and among the ladies was a sister of J.ady 
 Cawdor. We drank the healths of the aunt and the 
 nephew. I do not know whether the latter is destined to 
 produce any great convulsions of society ; but it is a fact 
 that his birth was preceded and accompanied by a tempest 
 which forced everybody to walk in the figure of P to 
 prevent the severance of the hat from the head. 
 
 " I must now break off this very rough sketch, and 
 return afterwards to your letters." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 24 April, 1867. 
 
 " Pity me, and do not wonder if I am silent for a space. 
 Another attack on poor Charge — this time from the 
 Bishop of Capetown — and requiring a speedy reply. And 
 I engaged to go out to-morrow to preach and sleep in 
 Pembrokeshire, with destruction of two days. 
 
 " Chaos smiles grimly under your compassionate eye, 
 rejoicing not to be thought utterly odious and frightful. 
 Yet the sight of it makes the Anarch groan, and wish that 
 the beams of that eye could have transformed it into a 
 Kosmos " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 29 April, 1867. 
 
 '' Can you set the C. behs a-ringing ? At least wish 
 me joy. I have sent the ' Reply ' to press. I hope my 
 last pamphlet of this year, 
 
 " I will say that you are a brave one to stand up for 
 your friends. But you had no doubt forgotten the ]3art of 
 my ' Charge ' in which I animadverted severely on Cape- 
 town's proceedings. It was unavoidable that he should 
 answer me, and equally so that I should reply to him.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 109 
 
 " The rest hereafter, as I have now no time for 
 more " 
 
 Abergwii.1 Palace, 8 Mcnj, 1867. 
 
 " You have now fairly earned a full account of all that 
 I (lid ;* and, indeed, it is full time that I should send it, 
 for, with your opinion of my memory, you will hardly 
 believe that I have already forgotten a part of it. I 
 must, however, tell you not only what I did, but what I 
 thought. I was under an impression — which is, perhaps, 
 quite erroneous — that a Welsh nurse, though she might 
 have more relish for poetry than an English one, still 
 would not be likely to enjoy any other than of the plainest 
 
 kind, such as the ' Canwyll Cymru ' or hymns The 
 
 reading which is most universally enjoyed is I believe 
 prose narrative ; and so it occurred to me that I possessed 
 a story which I had read mau}^ years ago with some 
 pleasure, entitled, ' Y Bardd, neu y Meudwy Cymreig,' by 
 W. E. Jones (Cawrdaf). This was afterwards inserted in 
 a posthumous edition of his works, which was dedicated 
 to me, Avith a very hyperbolical ode, by the editor, and of 
 
 which I had more than one copy The story I 
 
 thought she would like. I therefore at once sent it off to 
 Windsor by book post, and with it another volume of 
 miscellaneous verse and prose, chiefly because it was 
 dedicated to the Queen and contained a poem on the 
 Princess Victoria. I believed that I had a duplicate of 
 this also, but now I cannot find it ; and I have forgotten 
 the title (a fancy one), and am not sure about the author's 
 name, though I think it was Edwardes, and I know he is 
 a clergyman. At the same time I directed Spurrell to 
 
 * The Queen desired the Bishop to select and send Welsh books for 
 Princess Christian's Welsh niirse. 
 
 H 2
 
 110 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 make up a parcel containing ' Drych y Prif Oesoedd,' 
 ' Hanes y Ffydd,' ' Y Bardd Cwsg,' and one of the rival 
 translations of ' Uncle Tom's Cabin.' .... I am rather 
 sorry that I did not add the 'Canwyll.' .... A native 
 work Avhich was not thoroughly serious, in the sense of 
 having a decided religious tendency, it would, I believe, 
 be very difficult to find. The ' Bardd Cwsg " is very racy 
 Welsh, Avith very lively descriptions — the idea probably 
 suggested by Quevedo 
 
 " I am drawing near the end of ' I miei Eicordi.' For a 
 picture of Italian life, and a j)ortrait of a noble Italian 
 mind and character, I know nothing that equals it. I 
 have also a fresh batch of delicious Erckmann-Chatrians, 
 which you must read some of these days. 
 
 " This morning was so glorious that I actually thought 
 of going out for a drive. It has now clouded over, so 
 that I do not know whether I shall not want an umbrella 
 to visit my geese." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 9 May, 1867. 
 
 " This is mainly a despatch on matters of business. 
 First, I have to announce the safe arrival of the Mac- 
 Ttiillan, and the departure of a copy of my ' Reply to the 
 Bishop of Capetown.' This is for your father, and it is 
 more in his way than any of the preceding pamphlets, as 
 it has more to do with law than divinity. You are only 
 to read it if he thinks it will do you good. And then, 
 mind, only on condition that you begin with reading the 
 Bishop of Capetown's letter 
 
 " Of politics and all other things at a future time."
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. Ill 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 14 May, 1867. 
 
 " I am quite perplexed fis well as dejected by the 
 weather. I cannot carry my memory or even my imagi- 
 nation back to that fine evening you speak of. The 
 general impression which the month has hitherto made on 
 my mind is that of extreme unnatural inclemency ; and 
 then how puzzling it is to find that in London they have 
 had tropical heat, and that people have been killed by 
 sunstrokes. In winter I rather enjoy howling wind and 
 pelting rain, but to have lowering skies, wet, and cold 
 while the most beautiful blossoms of the spring only want 
 a gleam of sunshine to light them up, is to me quite 
 afflicting. It seemed this morning as if there must be 
 some iceberg sailing through the Irish Channel. You ask 
 about my Sunday letters. Yes, I receive them, but as, 
 with one exception, I hate the sight of them, I seldom 
 open them before Black Monday. How can I be other- 
 wise than delighted with your sweet partiality for every- 
 thing belonging to me, which finds m^/ deafness harmless 
 and m?/ chaos agreeable ? No doubt the deaf man himself 
 is the chief sufferer, as he loses nine-tenths of what is said 
 around him, and only saves the remainder by bothering 
 his neighbour. But I know from experience the incon- 
 venience of intercourse with deaf people when you can 
 never be sure that they have heard what you say, and that 
 you and they are not at cross purposes. 
 
 " As your study of the history of ancient Greece ought to 
 quicken your interest in her present fortunes, I hope you 
 observed that the King of Greece is travelling incog, under 
 the title of Marquis of Sparta. How difficult it would 
 have been for Tiresias to have explained that to Menelaus. 
 There is only one point in which my recollection of things 
 at Milan does not agree with your description. When I 
 was there I was told that after the first ni«:ht of a new
 
 112 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 opera or ballet, and one commonly lasted a whole season, 
 people never Avent to their boxes to hear or see anything 
 on the stage, but to play cards, sip ices, gossip, &c. Can 
 there have been a change since ? Your remarks on the 
 position of the royal box are quite just. At the San Carlo, 
 at Naples, the royal box was over the stage ; and the more 
 effectually to guard majesty from scenic illusion, when the 
 King was there a sentinel was always opposite him on the 
 stage."- 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 16 Matj, 1867. 
 
 " I return the ghost story and M. Martin's letter, with 
 many thanks. The story is a ver}' good one. In common 
 with others of the same class it suggests a question which 
 I have never seen satisfactorily answered, ' What do you 
 mean by a ghost ? ' That I think is a fair question, 
 because it does not require you to account for anything, 
 but only to say Avhat is passing in your own mind. The 
 information given by M. Martin does not quite satisfy my 
 curiosity on either point " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 20 itay, 1867. 
 
 " I am forced to send a most hurried scrawl, and am 
 not sure that I shall be able to do even so much again 
 before I leave for London next Friday, as the agonies of 
 preparation for that journey always grow more and more 
 intense and absorbing every day. But I must answer tAvo 
 of your questions before I forget them. Let it then sink 
 into your mind that the last time I saw Milan was in 
 1819 — interval, I think, long enough for a picture or two 
 to slip out of a memory much more tenacious than mine. 
 In the year followiug I was again in Italy, but only in the
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 113 
 
 nortli-west corner, for the Cornice, Genoa, Turin, Ivrea, 
 Aosta, my walk of fifteen hours from Courmayeur to 
 Contamines, &c., &c. Your tu quoque is, delicious. To ask 
 me what / mean by a ghost ? Dearest of all ghost story- 
 tellers, the very gist — as your father would say — of the 
 difficulty I find in following my inclination to believe all 
 that you relate, is just that to my mind the word has no 
 meaning at all that I am able to grasp. When I hear it 
 I do not know whether I am thinking of body or spirit, 
 and the acts attributed to it seem to belong to neither. 
 
 " I am really saddened by this mysterious preternatural 
 weather — like a long-protracted semi-eclipse accompanied 
 by a strange ominous stillness. I am sure that the birds 
 all feel the depressing influence. You hardly see, still less 
 hear any. If a rook is to be seen it is evidently only 
 some very pressing business that has brought him out of 
 doors. I could fancy anything ready to come, an earth- 
 quake, or a collision Avith some strange body crossing our 
 path. We have had a little rain, l)ut not followed by any 
 sunshine, and I am sure that the clouds mean something 
 more than that ; the air, however, is Avarm enough to 
 enable me to feed my geese in jDcrfect safety. 
 
 " Did you know that the iceberg hypothesis has been 
 recently superseded by another ? That it is supposed 
 there have been shoals of meteoroliths a few millions of 
 miles off revolving round the sun and intercepting its 
 beams ? Certainly this morning the state of the sky 
 quite corresponded Avith that hypothesis, the appearance 
 being very like that of a partial eclipse. Only it strikes 
 me that there is one objection to the hypothesis, which I do 
 not know how to meet. One would suppose that the 
 effect of such a screen comparatively near the sun must 
 be felt alike in all parts of the globe, at least in the same 
 continent ; but it seems from your friend's description that 
 it has not affected the climate of Italy "
 
 114 
 
 1, Rkgent Street, 28 May, 1867. 
 
 " I accomplislied my journey to town in great safety, 
 Avithout any incident more interesting to me than the 
 finishing of one book and the beginning of another ; and 
 as often as I took any notice of the outer world it was to 
 enjoy some pleasant picture lighted up by a bright sun, 
 and as I viewed it in a temperature much higher than 
 that of the outer air there was nothing to mar my enjoy- 
 ment. I am thankful for your tender anxiety, but pray 
 bear in mind that I am not a hothouse plant, not pecu- 
 liarly susceptible of colds, but quite the reverse — unapt to 
 catch one, and apt to get rid of it very easily. Satur- 
 day was one of Kingsley's iron-grey days. I devoted a 
 good part of the morning — not knowing when I might 
 have another opportunity — to an attempt to see the Exhi- 
 bition. It succeeded but imperfectly, for as most of the 
 more remarkable pictures were on a level with the spec- 
 tators, who formed a screen close to them, I could only 
 catch glimpses of them, and never saw more than about 
 half a one at a time. I hope to be able to go again when 
 the crowd is ebbing. I was well pleased with Millais' 
 ' Jephtha,' and inclined to prefer it to any of his former 
 doings. 
 
 " To return to the weather, the most engrossing of all 
 topics next to the compound householder. A night's 
 rain brought a sweet relenting of the season on Sunday, 
 which has lasted until now, with frequent alternations of 
 shower and sunshine 
 
 " You profess to want to know ' exactly ' what I think 
 of Stuart Mill's speech on Female Suffrage. I cannot 
 help suspecting that what you are really curious to know, 
 is not so much what I think of the speech, as how I should 
 have voted on the motion. With regard to the speech, I 
 believe it is generally admitted by Stuart Mill's friends
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 115 
 
 and admirers that it was not, on the whole, one of his 
 happiest, and that as an argument it was only partially 
 successful. It succeeded as a proof that there are many 
 thinsfs amiss in the condition of the better half of mankind 
 which urgently call for amendment, but it failed to 
 make out a clear connexion between this object and that 
 of his motion ; and I cannot help doubting very much 
 whether any such connexion really exists, except so far as 
 the motion itself, being placed on this as its main ground, 
 serves to draw more of public attention to the evil which 
 is to be remedied. It seems to me that for any other 
 purpose the motion was premature, and that the state of 
 society is not yet ripe for it. It seems reasonable to 
 expect that whatever any Parliament would be willing to 
 do for betterinsf the condition of women will have been 
 done long before women, if they had the suffrage, would 
 be able to return a majority. All those who voted with 
 Stuart Mill must be supposed to be willing to promote any 
 of the reforms which were the professed object of the 
 motion. But of those who voted against it, the majority 
 at least may have been quite as much in favour of such 
 reforms. Why should the advocates of the rights of 
 women wait until it has become a Cabinet question before 
 they introduce a series of measures for the redress of their 
 wrongs ? They would probably find that they were quite 
 as effectually supported by their fair clients without as 
 with the suffrage. This will, perhaps, suffice to give you 
 an inkling of my mind " 
 
 1, Regent Street, 7 jH7>e, 1867. 
 
 " Even if I had known sooner where a letter would find 
 you I should have been a very, not unwilling, but sorry 
 correspondent, from two causes not depending on myself —
 
 116 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 first, scarcity of time for writing amidst the distractions of 
 Convocation, Parliament, and other engagements ; and next, 
 want of something to write about, as nothing has hap- 
 pened to me that could be of the slightest interest to you, 
 unless it was something you might learn from the news- 
 papers When I look back I can remember nothing 
 
 to tell you of a specific kind, except that in the evening of 
 the day I wrote last I had again the pleasure of meeting 
 M. Ernest de Bunsen, and witnessing the display of his 
 vocal powers, which I enjoy. He gave Beethoven's 
 ' Adelaide ' most admirably. I had never heard it before 
 but once, at a concert, sung by a very famous German, 
 whose name I forget, but I think he could hardly have 
 surpassed M. E. de Bunsen in the delicacy of the execu- 
 tion. After this comes a blank, and the general impres- 
 sion it has left on my mind is rather dreary. I cannot say 
 that I have much enjoyed town, and yet have had less 
 than usual longing for the country, as there has been, on 
 the whole, very little seasonable weather. Last Sunday 
 was rather too hot, and since then we have had almost 
 constantly wet or cloudy days. 
 
 " I managed to give two pretty long visits to the Exhi- 
 bition. Millais' three pictures ('Jephtha' and huo children, 
 one at night and the other in the morning) deserve all 
 the praise you have heard of them. I am glad that you 
 have enjoyed your visit to Oxford. How good it was of 
 you to go and see Saturn ; he must be now of a great 
 age. I hope you found him jiretty well for his years.* 
 
 " I dare say you remember the statue of Edward III. in 
 the Great Court of Trinity, under which you may have 
 noticed an arch and a staircase. That staircase led up to 
 the last set of rooms I occupied. Directly opposite, you 
 may remember, is a tower over a gateway. In the upper 
 floor of that tower is the set I occupied first. In Neville's 
 
 * Alluding to a visit to the Observatory.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 117 
 
 Court, on tlie right, you passed by two staircases which led 
 up to rooms where I passed the intermediate period. I 
 hojje you will be able to give a satisfactory account of 
 
 your visit to Cambridge On Monday I am going 
 
 on an excursion to Canterbury, on a visit to Canon 
 Blakesley. I had expected to return to Abergwili next 
 week ; but my name has been placed on the Rubric Com- 
 mission, and I find there will be two meetings which I 
 shall be able to attend, and must therefore remain in town 
 for the purpose. The second will be on Monday, the 17th, 
 and I intend to return the next day." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 17 June, 1867. 
 
 " .... On Whit Monday I took a holiday, and made 
 an excursion to pay a visit to my friend, Canon Blakesley, 
 at Canterbury. I had not been there for some thirty 
 years, and on Tuesday spent a laborious but very delightful 
 day in the inspection of the cathedral and St. Augustine's 
 College. You have probably seen them much more 
 recently, and know that the cathedral has been long under 
 a process of judicious restoration, which is not yet com- 
 pleted, and is from time to time bringing interesting 
 objects to light. I was agreeably surprised by the college, 
 over wdiicli we were shown by the warden. I was not 
 j)repared for its extent or its architectural beauties, which 
 are quite in harmony Avith the cathedral, and really 
 admired its perfect adaptation to its object — the prepara- 
 tion for missionary life. Do you know that it occupies 
 the site at once of the old abbey — especially of a part 
 which had been turned into a tavern and a cockpit, but 
 is now reclaimed to uses more in accordance with the 
 original purpose — and of a j)alace, in which Charles I., 
 having been married in the cathedral, spent his honey-
 
 118 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 moon ? . . . , My day at Canterbury was the last summer 
 day we have had. Every one since has been, if not wet, 
 gloomy and chilly — generally partaking of all three charac- 
 ters, and indicating that the two hundred mile long iceberg 
 is still afloat, and probably nearing us. Still, yesterday 
 afternoon I again went out pleasuring. I was told by 
 Lord John Manners at Windsor that I ought to take the 
 very earliest opportunity of seeing the Tower — in which 
 he is concerned as Commissioner of Woods and Forests. 
 So I made the trip partly by water (in two penny steamers 
 between Hungerford and London Bridge) and partly by 
 land (the whole costing me Is. 2d), and was fully repaid. 
 I did not go into any room of armoury, jewels, or any- 
 thing else, but simply walked through it, glad to see that 
 everything had been put into good condition, with every 
 vestige of antiquity carefully preserved. I also deeply 
 enjoyed the approaches through the Billingsgate district. 
 The river itself was spoiled by the Arctic fog which hung 
 over it ; but I could see that the Embankment is beginning 
 to give it a little the appearance of the Seine at Paris. The 
 penny boats attracted many sons and daughters of Israel, 
 who could lengthen their Sabbath journey with the less 
 scruple as no beast — only two or three heathens — had to 
 work for them. I hope you have seen the picture of 
 Disraeli's triumph in Punch. It will immortalise the 
 work which it parodies, being what that (though a per- 
 formance of considerable merit) is not— a real stroke of 
 Sfenius." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 1 Oct., 1867. 
 
 " . . . . You had reason to expect that I should have 
 returned the enclosed papers before now, and I meant to 
 have done so yesterday, but found it impossible, unless I
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 119 
 
 had sent them quite by themselves. I only returned on 
 Saturday night. 
 
 " During the Pan- Anglican I was a guest at Fulham, 
 and the time was so comj)letely filled up that I could not 
 even open a letter before Thursday, or begin answering 
 any until within an hour of post time on Friday. Hence 
 an arrear which I am labouring to despatch. I am glad 
 on the whole that I went to the meeting. In the first 
 place, because I found all my forebodings exactly fulfilled 
 (which always gratifies one's self-love even when they are 
 forebodings of evil) ; and next, because I was enabled to 
 contribute a little to prevent mischief. I must add that 
 the discussions were at all events lively, and the time 
 never seemed long. I had also the pleasure of meeting 
 several persons whom I was glad to see ; among them the 
 amiable Bishop of Jamaica, who begged to be kindly 
 remembered to you. Do not believe a single word that 
 you see in the papers about anything that passed at the 
 meeting, except the documents which are to be published 
 verbatim." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 5 Oct., 1867. 
 
 " .... I wish very much to see you while your woods 
 retain the first beauty of autumn, and to make a holiday 
 of my visit without a sense of remorse. I know you have 
 an idea that it is possible to combine work and play else- 
 where than at home. It may be so, indeed I have no 
 doubt is so, with you ; for me it is absolutely impossible, 
 
 and I have long ceased to reckon uj^on it I am 
 
 much obliged for the sample of Euskin's writing, which is 
 very characteristic. It is a pity that he thinks so meanly 
 of botany, when he believes himself caj)able of rendering so 
 great a service to it. Poor Linnaeus ! to be found out for
 
 120 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 a fool and a blockhead. Tlioiigh I am no botanist, having 
 no time to spare for the pursuit, and being occupied with 
 things leading me far away from it, I could not admit that 
 the science is ' altogether trivial,' and hardly understand 
 how any one who has a taste for zoology should not take 
 a lively interest, though not one equally absorbing, in the 
 vesfetable world. The turn of mind which attracts towards 
 the one study seems to me essentially identical with that 
 which tends to the other. This would seem clear if it was 
 only from the fact that on the confines the two realms 
 have no line of demarcation. I shall keep your riddle till 
 I know whether you have another copy. If not, I will 
 take one before I return it. It is a great deal too good 
 for me to guess, let alone to write. I suppose the 
 appearance of talking nonsense about religion was thought 
 to mark it as the production of a bishoj)."* 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 14 Oct., 1867. 
 
 " . . . . What is the standard by which you measure 
 usefulness ? How many persons of your acquaintance do 
 you know who contribute more than you do to the hap- 
 piness of others, and who, if they were taken away, would 
 leave a more sensible void in a larscer circle ? If that is 
 not being useful, it is onl}^ because it is something still 
 better. What should you think of a rose which fretted 
 itself with thinking, ' Oh, dear ! what a poor useless 
 creature am I, stuck in the ground, with nothing to do 
 but to bloom and scent the air, and wastinof much of mv 
 bloom and fragrance unperceived ? ' Would it not be 
 something worse than unjust to itself — unthankful to the' 
 fatherly goodness which had endowed it with such delight- 
 
 * A riddle which was supposed to bo written hy Bishop Thiidwall or 
 Bishop Wilberforce.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 121 
 
 fill qualities ? You wonder whether you will ever be more 
 useful hereafter. I do not know that you need. But the 
 law of God's kingdom is, ' He that is faithful in a few 
 things, shall be made ruler over many things.' But how 
 little it matters whether they are many or few, so long as 
 there is the faithfulness which makes the most of the few, 
 and can do no more with the many. There, pray be 
 edified with my little sermon, and for once reduce it to 
 practice " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 17 Oct., 1867. 
 
 " . . . . By the dream I supjDose you mean that about 
 Tiberius. I do not know Avhether I can tell it before the 
 post goes I dream — 
 
 " I am in a gallery of the imperial palace. A door 
 opens into it, through which I pass into a room. There 
 is Tiberius on a low seat, looking eagerly and sternly at a 
 culprit in front of him, who stands between two live lions. 
 As the cause seems to be going against him, he rushes 
 forward with a sword, which he j^lunges into the side of 
 Tiberius. I retreat into the corridor ; but presently hear 
 a cry, ' He is dead.' The gallery echoes, ' Dead,' I rejoice 
 — but awake." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 28 Oct., 1867. 
 
 " .... I must now also trouble you Avith a Httle 
 message to Dr. D. about that word (josse, which I first told 
 him was German, and then made him (perhaps) believe to 
 be Danish. On searching, I could not find it in either of 
 my Danish dictionaries, and began to think that I had 
 been the dupe of a strange hallucination, and had invented
 
 122 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 the word and its signification. And it seemed so unlikely 
 that, if not Danish, it should be a Scandinavian word at 
 all, that it was quite as a forlorn hope that I consulted my 
 Swedish dictionary. There, however, I found it, and its 
 meaning exactly defined — a boy between seven and four- 
 teen. As I Avished to trace it a little farther, I looked for 
 it in Dr. Jamieson's Scottish Dictionary, where, indeed, I 
 found the word goss, but in an irrelevant sense, with the 
 addition, however, of a note containing the valuable 
 information, ' Isl. gose, signifies a little servant, servulus.' 
 This Dr. D. will remember is the exact sense I attributed 
 to gosse, though, oddly enough, it does not appear to carry 
 this in Swedish. I cannot doubt the correctness of Dr. 
 Jamieson's statement. Yet I was unable to find the word 
 in either of my Icelandic dictionaries, one of which is a 
 lexicon of the poetical language — thus proving that gosse 
 does not belong to that. The other is Danish-Icelandic, 
 and there, of course, it could not be found under the word 
 gosse, which the Danish has not. But as dreng is the 
 exact Danish equivalent of gosse — signifying ' a boy,' 
 specially ' an apprentice ' — I looked out that, but in vain. 
 And this is all I now know about it. 
 
 " If I was asked Avhat is the English of your home, I 
 should say, ' earthly paradise.' I do not know when or 
 where I ever spent such delightful days. And I believe 
 it was the last opportunity I should have had this year, as 
 I have since received a seventh call to an opening, and 
 fully expect that the journeys I shall have to make on 
 these errands will consume three-fourths of the time 
 between this and Christmas. Pray remember me to all 
 the links of your happy circle."
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 12-3 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 8 Nov., 1867. 
 
 " The evil time is beginning, when correspondence 
 becomes more and more difficult. If I wait until post 
 time, I must now 2fo out when it would be time to come 
 in, after all the beauty of the day — if it be such as this — 
 is gone, the sun near setting, the geese gone to bed, and 
 hardly light enough left for a book except in large print. 
 And I feel it almost a sin not to enjoy what remains of 
 this season of warmth and light 
 
 " You seem not to have suspected how much uncer- 
 tainty there is about the root of vassalus. It is no doubt 
 — rather most probably — a diminutive of vassus, and 
 this, indeed, looks very much like the same word as gwas 
 with a Latin termination. I am myself ' on the whole 
 inclined to think it is so. But Ducange gives a great 
 many other derivations of vassus beside this — which 
 appears to have been first proposed by one Boxhorn in a 
 ' Dictionarium Cambro. Britannicum.' Schwenck says 
 that no probable derivation of vassus has yet been pro- 
 posed. That which raises the chief difficulty seems to me 
 to be that the senses of the two words do not agree in 
 every point. The meaning of givas (Breton goas) is, as 
 you may see in Pugh and Lhuid, that of a servant-602/ — 
 exactly like the Swedish and Icelandic gosse. But no 
 idea of youth appears ever to have been associated with 
 the word vassus, which expresses merely the feudal 
 dependence, and thus gives some colour to the derivation 
 from the German fassen, ' to bind,' especially as it is so 
 often connected as equivalent with drudus, ' faithful (true).' 
 But more than enough. Post time is come."
 
 124 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 AnERGWiLi Palace, 19 Nov., 1867 {after post). 
 
 " ' Oil, but it is a blessed doctrine,' said a pious Scotch 
 lady, speaking of tlie dogma of tlie total depravity of man- 
 kind, ' if folk wad only live up til it!' What, you will ask, 
 could put that anecdote into your head ? and to what is 
 it apropos ? Well, it is apropos to 3-our vexation at 
 having your rest broken and missing the sight of the 
 fiery shower which may have been so glorious to behold, 
 after all. But what has the meteoric shower to do 
 with human depravity ? and how did it put the Scotch- 
 woman's remark into your head ? Alas ! it was my own 
 evil conscience that formed the associating link. You 
 who would make me believe that I am very nearly perfect, 
 will be astonished to hear how I have been illustrating the 
 ' blessed doctrine.' I ought, of course, to have felt nothing 
 but concern for your disappointment. Instead of this it 
 occurred to me that I had also wished very much to see 
 the meteors, and had intended to watch for them, but 
 entirely forgot them until I received your letter, and then, 
 instead of sympathizing with your annoyance — will you 
 believe it possible ? — I actually caught myself pleased with 
 the thought, that, if I had watched, it would have been to 
 no purpose, and that I lost no spectacle which in these 
 parts was visible to anybody. Is it easily possible for 
 human depravity to go beyond that ? On the other hand, 
 I remember that I was very much amazed by the descrip- 
 tions I heard of the magnificent spectacle which I missed 
 through my stupid thoughtlessness last August. You 
 may pass these things over lightly, but I am sure that the 
 Scotchwoman would have considered them as striking 
 
 examples of her doctrine I am not able to furnish 
 
 a list of books proper to be consulted about Spenser. 
 But I think it might be worth while for any one about 
 to write on the subject to look into Taine's ' Histoire de
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 125 
 
 la Litt^rature Anglaise,' and at the Introduction to tlu; 
 first volume of Morley's ' English Writers.' I do not know 
 whether he reaches Spenser in the second." 
 
 Abekgwili Palace, 20 Bee, 18G7. 
 
 " I should scold you, if I could do it without incurring 
 the suspicion of hypocrisy, for exerting yourself to con- 
 tinue your journal when you so much need rest. My 
 present letter will not cost much exertion, either to write 
 or to read, on account of short time and scant materials, 
 for your letter only suggests a single topic, the condition 
 of John's little girl. She is said to be gaining strength, 
 but it must be very slowly, for it appears that she suffered 
 much pain when she had to be carried in a blanket to a 
 new house which John has taken at Oxford. It will be 
 long, I am afraid, before she will be able to bear a longer 
 journey.* The consequence is, that I find myself here in 
 sole charge of a party of young folks, with the duty of 
 making them a merry Christmas. I do Avhat I can by 
 supplying them with books and pictures, but if it was not 
 for their inexhaustible resources of self-amusement I am 
 afraid I should fail miserably. 
 
 " The worst thing is that I shall be obliged to leave 
 them before the end of their holidays to attend the 
 resumed meetings of that Ritual Commission, and I do 
 not know what demands I may not expect it to make on 
 my time. 
 
 " This season is the gloomiest Ave have liad since the 
 winter of the Crimean War. My spirits are depressed 
 when I think of the misery poor peoijle are suffering in 
 
 * Jerusalem Chamber, 28 Nov., 1867. 
 
 ". . . . She was— I hope I may still say is — a most delightful little 
 creature and the joy of her father's heart." 
 
 i2
 
 126 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 
 
 the East of London, of the general insecurity, of the con- 
 flagrations threatened and partly carried into effect, of that 
 Abyssinian expedition, from which I augur nothing but 
 evil. The only comfort is to escape from the outer world 
 into the region of thought. 
 
 " I mean to supplement this very poor letter with some- 
 thing which I hope may be more amusing. I do not 
 think you take in or often see the Spectator. I therefore 
 send three numbers, in which you must look for the 
 articles relating to Cats, in which, perhaps, for the first 
 time, some degree of justice has been done to the moral 
 qualities of those much-traduced and often-persecuted 
 creatures. I trust that you will be able to read them with 
 some interest and enjoyment."
 
 1868.
 
 Abergwili Palace, 1 Jan., 1868. 
 
 " Perhaps our letters ought to have crossed one another, 
 so that each of us might have received the other's good 
 wishes at the same moment. Or, again, perhaps it may 
 be best that the old and the new year should have each 
 its share. I have nothing to say, but ' many happy 
 returns,' and God bless you. If you are ' unintelligible ' 
 to me, what must be the state of my understanding ? I 
 fully understand how much reason I have to be ashamed 
 of having so much said of me that I do not deserve ; 
 and yet how glad I am that you should take such a 
 view of me, and how little I can wish that you should 
 estimate me less partially. 
 
 " Here you are comparing my reading with your own, 
 never reflecting that the time which you might, but do 
 not, give to books is a sacrifice which you make to your 
 friends, and that if I was only as self-denying I should 
 not have more leisure. Among other things, I have been 
 lately reading two novels, one Dutch and the other 
 German, each of great celebrity in its own reading circle, 
 and have been much amused by the contrast they exhibit 
 between the Dutch and the German character, which 
 shows itself in their novels just as it does in their paint- 
 ings — the Dutch work ingenious in its structure and 
 elaborate in its details, but utterly destitute of poetry and 
 what the Germans call Gemilth, which pervades the other. 
 
 "As I have nothing to say, I must report a little
 
 130 BISHOP tiiirlwall's 
 
 anecdote which John told me of his Httle girl. When 
 her state appeared to be almost hopeless, and she was only 
 kept alive by the most violent stimulants, she woke one 
 night in a kind of dream, and asked for a paint-brush 
 and red paint. She so insisted upon it, that it was 
 brought to her, and, being asked what she wanted to do 
 with it, she said, ' Dolly ought to have the measles too,' 
 and proceeded to exhibit most glaring symptoms of the 
 disorder on Dolly's face. 
 
 "Is not that almost as good as anything in Andersen ?" 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 15 Jan., 1868. 
 
 " Cats have come safe. I hope you enjoy and are 
 the better for this delightful foretaste of spring, the more 
 welcome to me as the days are lengthening, and I gain 
 a little more time from the twilight, in which chaos is 
 only discernible in the faint rays of my reading-lamp, 
 when, if I happen to want anything in the remote 
 regions, I miss the daylight most painfully. We may be 
 thankful that our frost, odious as it was, seems to have 
 been nothing like so severe as it has been in France and 
 
 Italy, though Mrs. B , in her last letter, which I 
 
 received on New Year's Day, continued to rave about 
 scorching suns, cactuses, palms, oranges, and everything 
 
 she could think of to make me envious I am 
 
 now just breathing again after some very disagreeable 
 occupation, which consumed a great deal of precious time 
 which I wanted sadly for other purposes. The Ritual 
 plague has broken out at Tenhy, imported by a new 
 rector, in a mild form indeed, but yet accompanied by 
 fever, restlessness, ill blood, and other bad symptoms. 
 The parties, unfortunately, a})pealed to me, and I had 
 to write endless letters to both. The worst was, that I
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 131 
 
 Wcas obliged to tell both ' leurs v^rit^s,' which I have 
 no doubt has put both in a worse humour with me than 
 they were before with one another. And I am not at all 
 sure that I have either read or written the last of it yet. 
 
 " I think it is since I wrote last that I have finished 
 both my German and my Dutch novel. The contrast 
 between the two continued growing stronger and stronger 
 to the end. The German story moves in the highest 
 and the lowest regions of society, the Dutch in that of 
 the middle class. It strongly confirms the impression I 
 received from my visit to Holland, that there is probably 
 no country in Europe where the despotism of etiquette, 
 conventionality, ceremoniousness, and the forms of pro- 
 vincial society prevails to the same extent. It comes 
 nearer to the Chinese laws of politeness than anything 
 else European. When I was set free from this I opened 
 the Cornhill. The last seemed to me a generally good 
 number, and I enjoyed the chapters on Talk exceedingly. 
 The idea was original and happy, and they showed 
 great fineness of observation and much quiet humour, 
 Avith a style perfectly fitted to the subject. The principal 
 novel is the first I ever read of Lever's, though I believe 
 he is a voluminous author, and this is a very attractive 
 specimen. I hope you have read Matthew Arnold's 
 ' Anarchy and Authority ' in the same number ; it is in 
 his very happiest style. ? 
 
 " I heard in London that the great demand for the 
 Quarterly article on the Talmud, which mainly helped to 
 carry it through a sixth edition, came from the ladies. 
 Have you read it ? If so, I hope it will not have inspired 
 you with an ardour for reading the Talmud itself. The 
 article which has been mentioned to you in the Revue 
 des deux Mondes is the work of no doubt a less learned 
 author, but appeared to me more moderate and sensible. 
 There is a third article on the subject in the last number
 
 132 BISHOP thielwall's 
 
 of the Contemporary Review, by a great Biblical scbolar, 
 Mr. Poole, who is as warm an admirer of the Talmud as 
 the Quarterly Review ; but, while he seems to me enor- 
 mously to exaggerate the value of its good things, incau- 
 tiously lets out that you must ' wade through a very sea of 
 nonsense ' to get at them. Let him who likes. I do not. 
 
 " I am very glad to observe that Gladstone has taken 
 up the pen in defence of ' Ecce Homo,' in an article, 
 which is to be the first of a series, in Good Words. 
 After the invectives of Lord Shaftesbury and the public 
 censure of a bishop, I think this a very manly act, 
 though only a tribute of justice to a much-wronged 
 book. It is also pleasant to see that the defence appears 
 
 in a very orthodox Presbyterian magazine Our 
 
 Christmas party of five juveniles has been reinforced by 
 the arrival of their mother and the little invalid, who 
 I hope is gaining strength every day. Dolly is quite 
 recovered, and her cheeks have regained their natural hue. 
 
 " Alas ! only six days remain before I must go up to 
 London to be plunged again in the depths of Ritualism, 
 and there are so many things which I wanted and meant 
 to have done first, and which now, chiefly in consequence 
 of that disastrous interruption from Tenby, I shall have, 
 I am afraid, to postpone for an indefinite time. 
 
 " Then I am going into the jaws of the Fenian Conspi- 
 racy.* The inspection of the vaults under the House of 
 Lords, which has long been considered as a mere formality, 
 will no doubt now be made with earnest scrutiny. But 
 is it possible to say where the gunpowder or other explo- 
 sive substance may not be hidden to hoist the collected 
 aristocracy into the air ? Convocation will probably be 
 safer from any such plot. But, apart from any personal 
 danger, I quite agree with what has been said to you as to 
 
 * This alludes to the late Fenian attempt to explode the Clerkenwell 
 prison.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 133 
 
 the aspect of the times, though you thought my view of it 
 was the morbid fancy of an overworked brain " 
 
 1, Regent Street, 25 Jan., 1868 {too late for post). 
 
 " .... I wonder who is that — - — . His contribu- 
 tion to the huge and ever-growing mass of Rituahstic 
 controversy might, perhaps, have been as well or better 
 spared. But at least it has the merit of being small ; 
 and if it is really the voice of a dying swan — however 
 little sweetness there is in it, so that it might easily be 
 mistaken for the note of a goose — it is a great comfort to 
 think that we shall not hear it again. 
 
 " I grumbled a good deal at having to go up to 
 London. But I am now thankful to have come. I had 
 a treat last night, which I would not have missed for any 
 price. Tyndall delivered the second (the first, unhappily, 
 was the Friday before) of two lectures at the Royal 
 Institution, ' On Faraday as a Discoverer.' 
 
 " The first part consisted of an analysis of Faraday's 
 scientific writings, chiefly interesting of course to men of 
 science, but yet enabling every one to understand the 
 peculiar combination of unlimited boldness of speculation 
 with the strictest caution in verifying every step by experi- 
 ment, which seems to have been the distinguishing mark 
 of Faraday's genius. He then proceeded to a sketch of 
 Faraday's char^acter in all its aspects and relations ; and I 
 never heard anything more beautiful or affecting. The 
 simplicity, modesty, and kindliness which were coupled 
 with such greatness of mind and soul were brought out by 
 several interesting anecdotes which were new to me. It 
 appeared from a comparison of his account-books in 
 Tyndall's possession (all kept like everything else about 
 him in the most lucid order — no chaos there) that, if he
 
 134 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 had chosen to apply his scientific acquirements to com- 
 mercial purposes he would have died vjorth (?) £150,000. 
 He died poor, having deliberately made his choice between 
 wealth and science. While Sir Robert Peel was in office, 
 he conceived the idea of instituting an honorary pension 
 for men of science, which they might accept without any 
 sacrifice of independence, like a cross or a riband. When 
 the nature of the thing was explained to Faraday, after 
 some hesitation, he consented to accept it ; but before the 
 office forms were completed Peel went out and was suc- 
 ceeded by Lord Melbourne, and it became necessary for 
 Faraday to have an interview on the subject with that 
 excellent man, who, you know, made game of everything, 
 and while quite willing to confirm his predecessor's grant, 
 dropped an observation upon it, in which Faraday's sus- 
 ceptible ear was struck by the word ' humbug.' At a 
 sound so jarring with his whole nature, he took his leave, 
 and presently despatched a note to Lord M. declining 
 the pension. Happily there were mutual friends to 
 mediate between the parties ; but Faraday insisted on a 
 written ajiology from the Prime Minister, and that most 
 good-natured of men, who no doubt thought the whole 
 affiiir a caj^ital joke, sent a written apology, which recon- 
 ciled Faraday to the modest pension. 
 
 " The last thing he declined was the highest of scientific 
 honours, the Presidency of the Royal Society. This he 
 Avould have liked, and it was urgently pressed upon him, 
 Ijut he finally refused it, because it would have imposed 
 upon him what he regarded as duties which would either 
 have diverted him from purely scientific pursuits, or have 
 required a strain which his mind was unable to bear. 
 
 " Towards the end Tyndall said many fine things — not 
 flowers of rhetoric, but springing out of the depths of their 
 long intimate friendship. ' He prized the honour of being 
 Faraday's successor less than the happiness of having been
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 135 
 
 his friend. The one was a mantle ahnost too heavy to 
 bear, the other a memory full of the purest delight.' 
 He closed with the words, ' Let me die the death of the 
 noble, and let my last end be like his,' and then rushed 
 out of the room amidst a storm of applause. 
 
 " The attendance was just the largest that the room, 
 with the addition of extra chairs, would hold. It was 
 curious to see how, after it was over, people gave vent to 
 their feelings by shaking hands, as if to congratulate one 
 another on having been present on such an occasion. It 
 was, indeed, something to remember to the end of one's 
 
 life Faraday was a whole man, with heart, mind, 
 
 and soul equally and healthily developed. 
 
 " I am reading the life of another great man, but whose 
 greatness was exclusively that of the mind, while heart and 
 soul were shrivelled up. It is ' Histoire de Napoleon V^, 
 par P. Lanfrey.' I believe it to be the first trustworthy 
 history of Napoleon that has yet appeared. It has not, 
 indeed, altered my opinion of him, which had been formed 
 , before, particularly by Consalvi's ' Memoires ' and the 
 articles in the Revue cUs deux Mondes on ' L'Eglise et 1' Em- 
 pire ;' but it illustrates the growth of the character, while 
 placing its quality beyond a doubt. Some of these days I 
 must get your father to read it. At present the great 
 conqueror is serving as a foil to the true hero of last 
 night's lecture." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 7 Feb., 1868. 
 
 " I am not at all an iconoclast. I would break no idol, 
 however vain and worthless in my own opinion, so long as 
 it is an object of sincere devotion or veneration to the 
 worshipper. As long as you believe the old Napoleon to 
 be worthy of honour and admiration, it is quite right that
 
 136 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 you should honour and admire him, and, if your behef 
 goes far enough, worship him as a ' hero.' But at present 
 the language in which you allude to what you evidently 
 consider as the only Ijlemishes in his character, proves 
 that, with regard to the means of forming an estimate of 
 the man, you are in pretty much the same condition as 
 nine hundred and ninety-nine in every thousand, or a still 
 larger proportion, throughout this country and, perhaps, the 
 world. It is but very lately that it has become possible to 
 write a trustworthy • history of Napoleon, and people in 
 general are now only just beginning to cool down into a 
 state of mind which enables them to take an impartial 
 view of the subject. With us that was every way impos- 
 sible during our great struggle with him, and for a gene- 
 ration afterwards his name continued to be a shibboleth of 
 party. In France itself during his reign the voice of 
 history was silenced by the police. Afterwards the un- 
 popularity of the two succeeding dynasties created a strong 
 reaction in his favour, and the public greedily accepted 
 such ' histories ' as that of the unscrupulous sophist, Thiers ; ■ 
 and the unqnenched though somewhat moderated jjassion 
 for military ' glory ' still operates to the same result. But 
 the reign of the nephew has, I believe, disposed people to 
 review that of the uncle more soberly ; and it has happened 
 that at the same time many most important sources of 
 information (divers memoirs and his own correspondence) 
 have been brought to light. This was the more indis- 
 pensable as he himself employed his forced leisure at St. 
 Helena in falsifying his own history, and doing what he 
 could to avert the righteous judgment of posterity on 
 himself — an attempt which has been happily defeated, 
 partly by the self-contradictions which are almost inevi- 
 table in a great complication of falsehood, and partly by 
 subsequent discoveries which he could not foresee. Lan- 
 frey has availed himself of these resources for a great
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 137 
 
 rectification of the history, which, though as yet going no 
 further than the peace of Amiens, has, I beheve, ah-eady made 
 a deep impression both in France and England. Whenever 
 you shall have read it, if you are still able to think of him 
 as before, by all means do so. But at least you will find 
 that it is wholly beside the question to speak of his 
 ' ambitious faults and reckless sacrifice of life ' (meaning, 
 no doubt, by the last expression nothing worse than his 
 undertaking destructive wars for no end but the satisfac- 
 tion of his ambition — not such things as the almost wanton 
 butcheries of Jaffa and Austerlitz, or the quite wanton 
 recklessness of ordering a little attack of a post which 
 cost a few lives simply for the amusement of his mis- 
 tress). You will find that the real question is, whether 
 he ever shrunk from any crime or from any baseness 
 which he thought likely to serve his ends. If, after 
 what is now known of him, his name is still to be coupled 
 with such words as 'glory,' 'fame,' 'heroism,' it will 
 become necessary to inquire in what sense those words are 
 to be understood. There is a sense in which I, with my 
 opinion of Napoleon, could well adopt that saying of Lord 
 Dudley : ' I quite see that in the light of our present 
 knowledge Napoleon's past " glory " is even more than 
 " doubtful," and his " future fame impossible." ' 
 
 " But what Lord D. meant I do not pretend to 
 understand. Perhaps it was only an emphatic way of 
 saying that Napoleon was incomparably the greatest, not 
 only of all past, but of all possible captains. But this 
 might (for the sake of argument) be granted, and we should 
 still have to ask. What is glory ? and what is fame ? A 
 great Greek defined ' glory ' to be that which waits on virtue 
 as its shadow. According to that definition, Napoleon's 
 glory would, as his claim to virtue was tried, shrink into 
 nothing. But if, when Ave speak of 'glory' and 'fame,' 
 we abstract entirely from all moral considerations, and
 
 138 BISHOP THIELW all's 
 
 mean by ' glory ' something wliicli makes a great glare 
 and daziiles mankind with its brilliancy, and by ' fame ' 
 something that makes a great noise in history, then no 
 doubt both glory and fame must be attributed to Napoleon 
 in the very highest degree ; and if that is enough to make 
 a ' hero,' then he is among the greatest. But this is really 
 to abstract from all difference between fame and infamy. 
 For both make a great noise, and Domitian is likely to be 
 remembered as long as Titus, Nero as Trajan. After all, 
 use what words we may, I believe it is impossible to admire 
 any one without respect to his moral qualities. There is 
 the difference between admiration and wonder. Did you 
 ever feel yourself moved to honour a man for being 
 immensely rich, or prodigiously strong, or because he could 
 cross Niagara on the tight rope, or play a dozen games of 
 chess at the same time without looking at a board ? 
 The talent for military combinations may be one of a 
 higher order, and it is certainly much more conspicuous, 
 but it is of the same kind and equally consistent with the 
 utter absence of every title to respect. Napoleon as a 
 captain probably stood above the Duke of Wellington, did 
 things which the Duke could not have done. But it is at 
 least equally certain that he owed his elevation in a great 
 measure to his doing things which the Duke, as a man of 
 honour, could not have done, and by which he would have 
 felt himself degraded in his own eyes. Bonaparte had an 
 almost superstitious confidence in his ' star,' but no self- 
 respect. His ambition was not only the cause of ' faults,' 
 but was itself the worst of all, being not only insatiably 
 greedy, reckless, and remorseless, but essentially low and 
 vulgar ; and this while he had the true glory of Washing- 
 ton before his eyes, and (after the 18th Brumaire) the 
 most absolute freedom to play a like part on a far greater 
 and more conspicuous stage. No Hercules ever more 
 deliberately chose the path of evil.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 139 
 
 "I flatter myself that I can sympathize with your enjoy- 
 ment of a quiet day. A life of constant society would to 
 me be absolutely intolerable, while I was never yet tired 
 of what is called solitude (being indeed some of the 
 choicest society to one who likes a book). I am afraid 
 you will not find quite so much as you expect in Mliller's 
 ' Chips.' It is all in vol. ii., but occupies no great space 
 there. In other ways all is excellent." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 15 Feb., 1868. 
 
 " Your sweet congratulations came to cheer a very lonely 
 birthday, which was chiefly occupied with reading the 
 shorthand writers' reports of the great Mackonochie case. 
 As it occupied twelve days, and every syllable uttered was 
 taken down, you may conceive what a mass of print I had 
 to wade through, and I was obhged to do so as it was 
 furnished for the special use of the Ritual Commission. 
 
 "Everything you say about Napoleon is perfectly 
 natural, right, amiable — in a word, womanly. His mar- 
 vellous fortune could not but captivate your imagination, 
 and his fall, from such a height to such a depth, move 
 your pity. I begin to feel a misgiving whether it was 
 right in me to shake your favourable opinion of him and 
 to rob him of your sympathy. But he is such an immense 
 historical personage that I must suppose you would prefer 
 viewing him in his true light to retaining j^our partiality 
 for him. Any pity I might have felt for him is checked 
 by these considerations. I cannot forget that even after 
 the Russian disaster he had it in his power to conclude a 
 peace on three several occasions, on the first of which he 
 would have remained by far the most powerful sovereign 
 in Europe, while the least advantageous offer would have 
 left him in secure possession of France ; but he insisted 
 
 K
 
 140 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 on the alternative, all or nothing. Can one much pity 
 such obstinacy when it loses all ? Still one might have 
 pitied the ruined gambler for crowns if there had been 
 a little return to right feeling or a little dignity in the 
 close of his life ; but instead of showing any sign of 
 remorse for his misdeeds, the chief employment of his 
 exile was to impose upon posterity by wilful perversions 
 of contemporary history in the ' Memorials ' which he 
 dictated at St. Helena. 
 
 " I see that you have read fort instead of jpost in one of 
 the occurrences I mentioned as specimens of his indifference 
 to human life. Here are his own words : — 
 
 '"La promenant un jour au milieu de nos positions, 
 dans les environs du Col de Tende, a titre de reconnais- 
 sance comme chef de I'artillerie, 11 me vint subitement k 
 I'id^e de lui donner le spectacle d'une petite guerre, et 
 j'ordonnai une attaque d'avant-poste. Nous fumes vain- 
 queurs, il est vrai ; mais dvidemment il ne pouvait y avoir 
 de rdsultat. L'attaque ^tait une pure fantaisie, et pourtant 
 quelques hommes y resterent. Aussi plus tard toutes les 
 fois que le souvenir m'en est revenue a I'esprit, je me le 
 suis forte reproche.' 
 
 " Well, then, you will say, though the fact is certain, it 
 appears at the same time that he was capable of a twinge 
 of conscience. But is that quite as certain as the fact ? 
 If so, what a strange conscience that never felt any qualm 
 about the butcheries of Austerlitz and Jaffa. As to 
 Jaffa, you seem to have been thinking of the story of his 
 poisoning his own soldiers in the hospital, which Lanfrey 
 considers very questionable. But there is no doubt what- 
 ever about the orders which he gave for the execution of 
 2,500 Turkish prisoners, who were marched down to the 
 sands, divided into small pelotons, and shot or bayoneted 
 to a man, according to his express directions, ' en prenant 
 des precautions de fa9on a ce qu'il ne s'en ^chappe aucun.'
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 141 
 
 Several of his officers refused to assist. He, in his 
 despatches at the time, described it as part of a very 
 ' brilliant ' affair. Afterwards, to Lord Ebrington at Elba, 
 he tried to find excuses for it, all amounting to a plea of 
 convenience ; it does not appear that it ever weighed a 
 feather on his conscience ; therefore I cannot help dis- 
 trusting the self-reproacli he professed about the so much 
 slighter affair of the Col de Tende. And yet what would 
 have been said of an English general against whom such 
 a thing had been proved ? 
 
 " Still, after all, was he, it may be asked, a more thorough 
 egoist, or more destitute of all sense of duty, than, say, 
 George IV. ? 
 
 " I do not think he was. It is very likely that George 
 would have been ready to make as great sacrifices to 
 Belial as Napoleon did to Moloch. But George was never 
 put to the test. Napoleon was ; and the terrible intensity 
 of his selfishness must be measured by the millions of its 
 victims. And yet all this would leave it doubtful 
 whether there was not something good and kindly at the 
 bottom of his nature. I would not have you lightly give 
 up the hope that there was ; but I am afraid that you 
 will find yourself at last forced to abandon it. It seems 
 too nearly certain that he never opened his heart in a 
 genuine, spontaneous, uncalculated epanchement to any 
 human being. 
 
 " That at all events does make him a fit object for pity, 
 though not for sympathy " 
 
 1, Regent Street, 22 Feb., 1868. 
 
 " Last night at the Athenaeum, among the new books 
 of the season, I found Lord Lytton's ' Miscellaneous 
 Works,' a collection of his small pieces in three vols, bvo, the 
 
 k2
 
 142 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 second of which contains ' The Student.' Happening to 
 dip into an ' Essay on the Reign of Terror,' I was struck 
 by the following remark, which seemed to me not uncon- 
 nected with the subject of our recent discussion, 
 
 ' ' ' Robespierre reigned but by his hold over the club 
 of the Jacobins and the hearts of the women. A strange 
 sulyect for female enthusiasm ; but that usually follows 
 power and will.' 
 
 " I confess that I was not aware of the fact (of 
 Robespierre's j)opularity with any but the furies of the 
 guillotine), though I have read so many histories of the 
 Reign of Terror. But I am afraid that the remark is not 
 without foundation, though I should not have ventured 
 to make it myself ; but as it comes from Lord Lytton I 
 should like to know what you think of it. 
 
 " I suspect that if the French women had been polled 
 towards the end of Napoleon's career, their experience 
 of the conscription would have been found to have cooled 
 their enthusiasm for the conqueror. 
 
 "The Reign of Terror, however, is an element which 
 ought to be taken into account in an estimate of Napo- 
 leon's character. He had witnessed the Reign of Terror, 
 was in fact professedly a Terrorist himself, that is, a 
 partisan of Robespierre and bosom friend of the younger 
 brother, though in his heart entirely disapproving of the 
 judicial assassinations and butcheries, not merely or 
 chiefly as crimes, but as something in his judgment (as in 
 Talleyrand's) far worse — as blunders. I think it can 
 hardly be doubted that his experience of this period — of 
 the ease with which an avocat like Robespierre seized 
 the government of France and exercised despotic power in 
 the name of liberty, and with a recklessness almost 
 unexampled — that all this contributed to impress him 
 with that deep contempt for mankind and disregard for 
 human life which showed itself alike in his civil and
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 143 
 
 military history. He viewed and treated men, whether 
 in or out of uniform, as a chess-player his pieces and 
 pawns. I throw this out as a possible extenuation of his 
 conduct, though I believe that, whatever had been his 
 antecedents, his character would have been the same. 
 .... How beautiful it is of you to reject the evidence 
 of your senses, ■^^' and to insist that my writing is as clear as 
 the day even when you cannot read it. That is true 
 friendship ; be assured that it is not lost on your ever 
 affectionate friend " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 4 March, 1868. 
 
 " I returned home on Saturday, after a journey which 
 lasted longer than I had anticipated. The express was 
 eighteen minutes behind its time, and being, I suppose, in 
 ill-humour on that account, took its revenge on me by 
 leaving me behind at Newport — of course rugless and 
 bookless. The feeling of utter indifference to life which 
 comes over one at such a moment is not to be described. 
 Somebody ought to write a tract to solve the question, 
 What can he (the stranded passenger) do with himself? 
 
 " I remained more than three hours in the waiting- 
 room, trying to read Marryat's ' Pasha of Many Tales.' 
 Perhaps a treatise on arithmetic would have answered the 
 purpose better. I also sipped the ' Biglow Papers.' Per- 
 haps they are really too good to be taken simply as an 
 anodyne. The real misery, however, began at six, when 
 I set off", deprived even of this meagre comfort, in the 
 dark, creeping, and halting at every station. It was a 
 favourite saying of poor dear Sedgwick, that ' all things 
 come to an end ; ' and this great truth was never more 
 remarkably illustrated than by the fact that at half-past 
 
 * Fost read in mistake for fort.
 
 144 
 
 ten I actually found myself under my own roof, though 
 with the poignant consciousness of having lost some ten 
 invaluable hours out of my life — a reflection which is still 
 very bitter to me. 
 
 " I have snatched a moment from business, not merely 
 to invite your sympathy, which I know will overflow on 
 me, but to ask a question. In that sweet image you 
 presented to my mind, as floating round me like a guardian 
 angel on my birthday, I remember being struck by your 
 saying that you would have entered upon your celestial 
 functions 'after having petitioned for Napoleon.' But you 
 did not explain what the petition was to have been for, 
 or, in other words, what it is I can do for him. Onl}'^, I 
 suppose, that if he himself could say what he wished, it 
 would be that his real character, which he took so much 
 joains to mask, should not be exposed to the light, and 
 that none who, in ignorance of the truth, think well of 
 him should be undeceived. Though I have no sympathy 
 with his wishes to be left in the dark in themselves, I 
 have so far as they coincide with yours, and therefore, 
 though I was at one time anxious that you should read 
 Lanfrey, I will not send it, until you assure me — laying 
 your hand on your heart — that you would like to see 
 
 it I have serious doubts whether you will be 
 
 the happier as well as the more enlightened for reading 
 it. But only let me know your honest wish. Alas ! 
 When my candidates have disappeared I shall only have 
 time to pack up for returning to town. Pray let me hear 
 tliat you are (for Nemesis' sake I will say) not unwell." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 7 March, 1868. 
 
 " I suppose I did not tell you that I am to go to town 
 on Wednesday. It will be best, therefore, that you
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 145 
 
 should keep your letter out of the box, which I may very 
 likely not open before I return, which I am afraid will 
 not be until April. But ' le pauvre homme ' ''■' shall be 
 waiting at the lodge to be taken to you. I know that if 
 he had his way he would rather go up the chimney. But 
 he must submit to his fate " 
 
 11 March, 1868. 
 
 " . . . . Pray do as is most convenient to you as to the 
 box. 
 
 " ' Poor Napoleon ' will be shivering at the lodge, like 
 a culprit waiting his trial. In agony of starting " 
 
 1, Regent Street, 18 March, 1868. 
 
 " I am frightfully in arrear, and the first of your three 
 unanswered letters opens so large a field of interesting and 
 very difficult questions, ethical and psychological, that 
 they alone would occupy a far greater number of sheets 
 than I have for the present leisure to fill. But I must 
 say a few words on them 
 
 " Your admission of the truth of Lord Lytton's general 
 reflection does great credit to your candour, as you make 
 it with undisguised reluctance. But why should you be 
 so reluctant ? Your retort on Lord L. is irresistible. It 
 is to the effect : ' Well, suppose women have their weak- 
 ness. Pray, my lord, have not men theirs ? ' Did you 
 never hear of a play called All for Love, or the World 
 well lost ? I am sure Lord L. would be the first to plead 
 guilty to the soft impeachment. And you might, I 
 believe, safely have made your retort more pointed, and 
 
 * Lanfrey's "History of Napoleon."
 
 146 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 have asked, Is it women only, or men also, that are 
 ' influenced by power and will ? ' Napoleon certainly 
 believed that most thoroughly, and found it verified by 
 the whole experience of his life. 
 
 " But though I fully assent to the truth of the general 
 observation, and only object to it as too narrow in its 
 application to one-half only of mankind when it is equally 
 true of the whole, I must beg you not to make me respon- 
 sible for it as regards the case of Kobespierre. I doubt, 
 indeed, whether Lord Lytton meant to refer to Avomen who 
 were personally acquainted with Robespierre. If so, the 
 remark would seem to be utterly inapplicable. For it is 
 evident that those whom you mention were captivated not 
 by the ' influence of power and will,' but by something 
 winning in his apparent character. I thought the remark 
 referred to his general popularity among those who knew 
 him only by reputation. 
 
 " Moreover, I cannot give credit to Robespierre for the 
 possession of the qualities attributed to him by Lord L. 
 I do not consider him as a man of strong mind or of 
 strong will (and I understand ' power ' to mean intellectual 
 and not merely mechanical power). I look upon him as 
 a narrow-minded and morally weak man. That is, perhaps, 
 the best excuse that can be pleaded for his conduct. I do 
 not think the better of him, but the worse of Lewes, for his 
 sophistical attempts to rehabilitate his client. How can it 
 be honestly doubted that Robespierre was the chief author 
 of the Reign of Terror, when we recollect that the mythical 
 conspiracies which filled the prisons with food for the 
 guillotine were the coinage of his weak and heated brain, 
 and that he emphatically claimed the system as his own 
 when he killed his old schoolfellow, Camille Desmoulins, 
 for desiring that it should cease ? And how every way 
 futile is the reference to the numbers who perished in the 
 reaction which followed the Reign of Terror, as if its
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 147 
 
 authors were not also resi:)onsible for the atrocities of the 
 Terreur Blanche, which they had provoked. 
 
 "As to Robespierre's character, I have no doubt tliat if, 
 through the mercy of Providence, he had been kept to the 
 end of his life in his obscure etude (Vavocat, he would have 
 passed for a gentle, humane, amiable man. You know he 
 advocated the abolition of cajntal punishment ; I forget 
 whether in the Assembly or in an early j)amphlet. The 
 same may have been true of Marat if he had never left 
 the royal stables, and of some of the most bloodthirsty of 
 the pro-consuls. 
 
 " But this ought not to affect our estimate of their 
 deeds. They either Avere or were not morally responsible. 
 If they were not, there was no ' cruelty ' and no ' fault,' 
 any more than in a tiger when it tears a man. If they 
 were responsible, ' fault ' seems hardly the proper term for 
 such atrocious wickedness. Surely you would not speak 
 of the murder of Mr. Plow as a ' fault.' If it was not the 
 act of an insane man — as was contended on account of its 
 ferocity — it was an enormous crime. If Robespierre was 
 naturally well fitted for the joys of domestic life, as I am 
 quite ready to believe, that seems to me not in the least to 
 palliate, but on the contrary to aggravate, his guilt, so for 
 as he was really answerable for the bloodshed of the Reign 
 of Terror, because it showed that he had not a mere heart 
 of stone (as might, perhaps, be pleaded on behalf of his 
 successor), but had been gifted with a fair share of humane 
 and tender instincts, which he stifled and quenched where 
 they would have restrained him from sacrificing so many 
 innocent victims. The only question seems to be, how far 
 his motives may be allowed to mitigate his guilt. And 
 there is certainly room for doubt whether he was not the 
 dupe of a sincere fanaticism, and believed that he was 
 doing no more than the public safety required. Unfor- 
 tunately, he seems to have followed the guidance of
 
 148 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 abstract reasoning much more than the impulse of enthu- 
 siasm, and it can hardly be doubted that personal ambition 
 was at least one of his motives. 
 
 " There appears to me to be a fundamental fallacy in 
 your remark on the ' selfishness ' of Kobespierre, Goethe, 
 and Napoleon. I hold it to be quite true that they were 
 all alike and equally 'selfish.' But I also hold that they 
 were neither more nor less so than every human being. 
 Sefishness is one common property of human nature. The 
 difference between a good and a bad man is not that the 
 good man is the less selfish of the two, but that he is able 
 to control, by higher motives, or by the force of benevolent 
 affections, the selfishness to which the other yields. That 
 which marks the bad man is not the greater intensity of 
 selfishness, but the absence of that resistance which, in 
 men not wholly depraved, would be opposed to it, by 
 conscience, or by self-respect, or by sense of honour, or 
 natural feeling, or other motives by which, not eminently 
 virtuous men only, but the bulk of mankind, are governed. 
 
 " Suppose a case. D. is the owner of a gold watch, 
 which is coveted alike and with exactly equal intensity by 
 A., B., andC. But A. has a conscience. His desire for the 
 watch impels him to work and save until he has acquired 
 the means of buying it. B. is lazy and unscrupulous, 
 and to him the desire may become a motive to theft. To 
 C, who is equally lazy, and still more reckless, it may 
 be a motive for murder. C. is clearly the worst of the 
 three, but not more selfish than A., who is comparatively 
 good. 
 
 " To say that Goethe was not less selfish than Robes- 
 pierre or Napoleon is quite true, but does not hel}) in the 
 least towards any discrimination of their respective charac- 
 ters. It is true that G.'s social affections appear to have 
 been languid. His whole being was absorbed in his 
 devotion to science and art. This may no doubt be
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 149 
 
 considered as a form, thou^di a very refined form, of self- 
 ishness. But I do not think it warrants us in believing 
 that he was as ca2)able as Robespierre or Napoleon of 
 atrocious crimes or of baseness ; though it may have been 
 very happy for him, as for all of us, that he was not 
 exposed to the like trial. 
 
 " If Napoleon was a bad man, it was not because he 
 ardently desired universal empire. How many men are 
 there who, having the object before them, would not have 
 coveted it as eagerly ? That which marks his character 
 as both bad and in the highest degree unamiable is that 
 he never suffered any sense of right, or of honour, or any 
 relentings of humanity, to restrain his cupidity. That, I 
 think, you will see before long 
 
 " I have read those concluding chapters on Talk. 
 
 " They are more sprightly and graceful than anything I 
 remember of the kind. But my own experience does not 
 bear out the observation on the superiority of story-telling 
 men. I never heard a story so well told as by a young lady 
 whose name you must not ask. But I am inclined to 
 think that a good deal may de^^end on the nature of the 
 story, and that when it is humorous men may have the 
 advantage. 
 
 " I have not yet seen that Abyssinian history. It is 
 against our prospect of success. 
 
 " I was very much j)leased with the ' Old Ueccan Days.' 
 I have also been interested by a translation of an old 
 Spanish collection of stories under the title of ' El Conde 
 Lucanor.' The original was written in the middle of the 
 fourteenth century, by a man of high bu-tli, familiar with 
 Arabic literature. In it I found my story of the ' Magician 
 of Toledo ' — here Don Ulan, Avho has a son, for whom he 
 receives a promise of preferment, which is eluded at every 
 fresh step by the ungrateful priest. I have no doubt 
 that this was imported into Spanish literature from the
 
 150 
 
 Arabic, wbicli seems to have derived it from the Sanscrit. 
 I must shut up with thanks for all 3^our good things, and 
 especially for the verses " 
 
 1, Eegent Stkeet, 28 3fa>-eh, 1868. 
 
 " . . . . According to my theory of ethics, it is not 
 quite correct to speak of selfishness as a vice, unless you 
 include in the notion of it something quite distinct from 
 the selfish instincts themselves. These, so far as they are 
 implanted in our nature, are morally indifferent, neither 
 good nor bad, as they are independent of the will, which 
 must determine the moral quality of every action. It is 
 only when they come into conflict with reason or duty 
 that the indulgence of them becomes faulty, or vicious, or 
 criminal, according to the various degrees of the obligation 
 which has been violated. And the selfish instinct is not 
 so much the origin as the occasion of the fault, vice, or 
 crime, which properly consists in the failure or misdirec- 
 tion of the will. It is, in fact, simply the question, not as 
 to the quality or the intensity of the animal element in 
 our nature — for that is no more a moral element in man 
 than in brutes — but as to the relation in which this stands 
 to the properly human element. If that relation is one of 
 preponderance, the result is bad ; if one of subordination, 
 good. And even the coercion of the selfish animal in- 
 stincts by a strong will is not virtue unless the motive be 
 virtuous, and the strength of the motive will be measured 
 by the force of the selfish instinct which it has to 
 overcome "
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 151 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 11 April, 1868. 
 
 " I know you are perplexed by my silence, especially 
 as you had a clear right to expect an acknowledgment of 
 the receipt of the books and the return of the letters. 
 But it is merely the old story, that I had some things on 
 my hands to which I have been absolutely forced to 
 postpone everything else, and I am still so far occupied 
 with them that I can only write very shortly and hastily. 
 I am the more sorry for this, as you propose an interest- 
 ing question of casuistry, which well deserves more leisure 
 than I can just now spare for its discussion. Nor I think 
 would it be easy for any one to lay down a general formula 
 which would solve all such doubts. Much would depend 
 on the comparative dignity of the ' pursuits ' to be sacri- 
 ficed When I get up in the morning I never know 
 
 what hour of the day I can call my own. The first letter 
 I open may upset all my plans, and compel me to lay 
 aside everything I have in hand for some new unforeseen 
 engagement. A new book which you cannot help reading 
 has a like effect. Here has arrived the ' Life of Bunsen,' 
 two volumes, of some 1,300 pages altogether. I had 
 begun to devote an hour to Freeman's ' History of the 
 Norman Conquest,' which is a caj)ital work, and becoming 
 more and more interesting as it proceeds. Now I have 
 my choice between it and the ' Memoirs,' as it is quite 
 impossible for me to carry on both together, the hour at 
 night being as much as I can spare for English reading. 
 
 " I do not wonder that the Dissenters are elated with 
 the imminent disestablishment of the Irish Church as the 
 first blow to the fabric nearer home. It is quite possible 
 that, without living to the age of Methuselah, I may turn 
 out to be the last Bishop of St. David's who sat in 
 Parliament. 
 
 " I was very much struck before I left London with the
 
 152 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 intense excitement which prevailed on the Irish question, 
 I have observed nothing comparable to it since the pass- 
 ing of the Reform Bill of 1832. I dined on the Wednes- 
 day which divided the debate with the Archbishop of 
 Armagh, where were a great many of the Irish Protestant 
 magnates. They actually talked of ' flying the country,' 
 as if they were on the eve of a civil war ; and the Con- 
 servatives declare that they will contest every step that is 
 to be taken on Gladstone's Resolution, just like the Tories 
 in '32, and I suppose with like result " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 17 A2ml, 1868. 
 
 " I fulfil my promise of returning the two very charac- 
 teristic and interesting letters, which I have just read over 
 again. The pile accumulated during my absence will 
 prevent me from adding much of my own. I thought of 
 you yesterday very often, and with sympathy for the 
 suffering which I knew you were undergoing. I know, 
 by frequent experience, the peculiar feeling of dreariness 
 and depression which always comes over a wedding party 
 tas soon as the bride and bridegroom have left, and I 
 believe it is generally in proportion to the happiness of 
 the wedding. It comes near to the sensation of being left 
 behind by your train. It pervades the whole company, 
 and sometimes they betray it by desperate and fruitless 
 efforts to shake it off, or conceal it under a show of 
 boisterous merriment, dancing, &c. 
 
 " But when the departure is the beginning of a long 
 separation between dear relatives and friends, the feeling 
 must deepen into one of absolute sadness, as I am afraid 
 you experienced yesterday. But as I trust that in all 
 other respects everything passed off happily, I have no 
 doubt that to-day the sense of abandonment will be much
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 153 
 
 softened, while the pleasure of sympathy with the briglit 
 prospects of your friends will be gaining strength. 
 
 " I find the interest of the ' Memoirs of Bunsen ' quite 
 absorbing. I cannot recollect having ever enjoyed any- 
 thing of the kind — if of any kind — so deeply. I am 
 reaUy thankful to have lived to read it. Nothing indeed 
 could raise Bunsen higher than he stood in my estimation. 
 But just on that account the more intimate acquaintance 
 which the book gives with the details of his life and work, 
 is to one who had the privilege of knowing him unspeak- 
 ably interesting. I am only in the last quarter of the 
 first volume, and am only sorry that there is not more to 
 come. The Baroness has executed a very difficult task 
 with admirable judgment, practical ability, and mastery of 
 language. I only wish it had been possible to insert the 
 originals of the German letters in an appendix or thin 
 third volume. But the German translation will probably 
 be less costly than the original, and without the embellish- 
 ments, which add indeed immensely to its value, but like- 
 wise to the price." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 21 April, 1868. 
 
 " .... I have now an odd business on my hands. A 
 clergyman — who among mortals is known by the not very 
 uncommon name of John Jones, but in the higher sphere, 
 in which one foncies him sitting on a cloud, with a lonsf 
 white beard waving in the wind and a harp before him, is 
 styled Idrisyn — thought it would be a good thing to trans- 
 late the Queen's ' Diary ' into Welsh, and asked the royal 
 leave to do so. The Queen was in doubt, and, through 
 Sir T. Biddulph, consulted me on the question, I gave 
 some reasons for advising that the permission should be 
 given ; and as my only doubt was that the translator might
 
 154 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 fall into mistakes for want of sufficient familiarity with some 
 of the objects described, I in an unguarded moment offered 
 to look over some of the proof sheets. The permission 
 was consequently given on condition of their being sent to 
 
 me, and I have received the first The translation 
 
 is in general excellent The interest of Bunsen's 
 
 ' Memoirs ' grows upon me, though, as I am now in the 
 middle of the second volume, it will be more and more 
 saddening to the close. 
 
 " How odd it is that he should have been so like the 
 wicked Napoleon ! and still more that I had not observed 
 the likeness until I found it mentioned in the ' Memoir.' 
 Hardly less curious is it that there should be a likeness 
 between two men almost as different from one another, 
 Niebuhr and Lord Russell. This, too, I had failed to 
 observe, though the moment it was suggested to me I saw 
 it clearly " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 4 May, 1868. 
 
 " . . . . You know that it is impossible for you to be 
 too extravagant in your praise of me. It is not that it 
 tickles my vanity, but it delights me as a proof of your 
 partiality. What are friends worth if they say no more 
 than you deserve ? Nothing could illustrate the force of 
 your affection more strongly than your preference of my 
 preaching to that of the Bishop of Oxford. His sermon 
 on the occasion of the Keble Memorial has been rej)rinted 
 verbatim by the Guardian. I should have been glad if I 
 had been able to produce such a brilliant and ingenious 
 composition ; but I will own that I should have been very 
 sorry to have preached it, and therefore resign myself the 
 more contentedly to the lack of the gift. 
 
 " Lord Derby's reappearance in the House of Lords has
 
 LETTERS TO A ERIE^^D. 155 
 
 not shown liim in an advantageous light.'" His sarcasms 
 fell harmless from Lord Russell : Avhile, for Avant of takin^ 
 the ordinary pains of reading the Resolutions he Avas going 
 to attack, his main objection proved to be utterly ground- 
 less. He betrayed more of the spirit of a partisan than if he 
 had been still in the Cabinet, and a soreness which he would 
 not have felt if his conscience had been at ease about the 
 manoeuvres by which he 'dished the Whigs.' " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 18 May, 1868. 
 
 " I am glad to have a sign of life from you, to show that 
 your exertions at the ball, of which I heard from John, have 
 left some life in you. But it could not have shown itself 
 in a more unfortunate shape than such a request. I am 
 sure that if you knew the point in my foot which gives 
 me jmin you would not select that to kick or tread upon ; 
 and I am equally sure that if you had been aware of the 
 intense loathing with which I think of the subject of your 
 note t you would not have recalled it to my mind. When 
 
 Mrs. P , in the simplicity of her heart, and no doubt 
 
 believing it to be an agreeable topic to me, told me at 
 dinner on Thursday that she possessed the hated volume, 
 it threw a shade over my enjoyment of the evening, and it 
 was with a great effort that, after a pause, I could bring 
 myself to resume the conversation. If I could buy up 
 every copy for the flames, without risk of a reprint, I 
 
 * The late Lord Derby's resiprnation of the Premiership, on the ground of 
 ill-health, was announced in both Houses 26 Feb., 1868. Mr. Gladstone laid 
 his Resolutions about the Irish Church on the tabic March 23. An amend- 
 ment moved by Lord Stanley was defeated, and when the Houses met after 
 Easter the late Lord Derby, without formal notice, and as a private peer, 
 called attention to the Resolutions in the House of Lords. Lord Russell 
 replied to him. 
 
 t " Primitiaj ; or Essays and Poems on various Subjects," by Connop 
 Thixlwall, eleven years of age. 
 
 L
 
 156 BISHOP tiiirlwall's 
 
 should hardly think any price too high. Let me entreat 
 you never again to remind me of its existence. 
 
 " I am in the agony of packing, and also grieved to 
 exchange all the loveliness of nature for the wretched, hot, 
 and dusty arena to which I am going." 
 
 19 JiDw, 1868. 
 
 " I know you will like to see a most pleasant letter 
 which I have received from Baroness Bunsen. I hope you 
 have passed from the state of ailment to one of better- 
 ment, and are enjoying this loveliest of all Junes. It seems 
 to me incredible while I look at it. We cut the grass in 
 the meadow last Monday under a most inauspicious mass 
 of dark clouds. I expected nothing but torrents of rain 
 and ruin to my hay, for the dry weather had already then 
 lasted three weeks — for our climate a miracle — but lo ! on 
 Tuesday afternoon all cleared up again, and ever since has 
 been more brilliant than ever. Beside the feast to the eye 
 of a hayfield among flowers and wood, there has been the 
 satisfaction of constantly growing assurance that the hay of 
 the meadow at least, which is to be carted to-day, will be 
 got in without a drop of rain, and in the perfection insured 
 
 by a hot sun with a fresh breeze Pray remember 
 
 me very kindly to Lady Llanover. "When I think of the 
 pleasure I enjoyed in her conversation during the drive in 
 her pony-carriage through those lovely grounds, I feel that 
 I ought not to have grumbled at anything that befell me 
 the same day." '" 
 
 Adergwili Palace, 23 June, 1868. 
 
 " . . . . If a story of a revenant is told it is sure to 
 come to you. I have always been better able to realise 
 
 * Missine; a train.
 
 LETTEIiS TO A FRIEND. 157 
 
 such stories since I had my experience — which I tliink I 
 related to you — of waking under the impression that I 
 had just seen my servant standing by my bedside and 
 calling me. 
 
 " I got up and put on my dressing-gown, and was pro- 
 ceeding with my toilette, when I noticed some appearances 
 which gradually convinced me that he could not have been 
 there that morning. The same thing occurred to me again, 
 only the illusion did not last so long, being disturbed by 
 the remembrance of the first. I know this is not an exact 
 parallel to a case in which the image is presented to the 
 waking eye, but I think it is a phenomenon of the same 
 class " 
 
 Abekgwili Palace, 21 July, 1868. 
 
 " While ' pining for a letter from me,' you are evi- 
 dently unconscious how indispensably necessary it was 
 that I should first receive one from you, that I might 
 have something to say. You have an inexhaustible fund 
 of news, anecdotes, and strange adventures, which is con- 
 stantly replenished by your correspondents, even when 
 you are not yourself stirring. But I might live on for 
 months without any materials for a letter but such as I 
 might spin out of my own brain, and that would be stuff, 
 not for a letter, but for an essay. To mj^self, indeed, my 
 sessions at my desk, my travels round Chaos, and my 
 excursions into the garden, are not devoid of interest, but 
 they will not bear to be related ; and my correspondence, 
 instead of being a fund of amusement, is the dreariest of 
 all my official occupations. Since John left me with his 
 two girls my life has been one of perfect monotony. I 
 can hardly say that the loveliness of the weather has yet 
 been broken here. Some clouds passed over it yesterday, 
 
 l2
 
 158 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 but without rain, and to-day it is as brilliant as ever. 
 Now, however, thanks to your letter, I shall be able 
 nearly to fill a sheet. That story of the ' Hunter and the 
 Tigress ' is both sensational and picturesque in the 
 highest degree. But you have a doubt whether the skin 
 
 in the drawing-room of the D 's was that of the 
 
 defeated tigress ; if so, one would have liked to know how 
 she was killed when her enemy escaped. The cruellest of 
 all tiger stories is that told by Atkinson in his " Travels 
 on the Amour," of the Tartar princess, who, having eloped 
 with a lover, was carried off by a tiger while they stopped 
 for a few minutes on the road. 
 
 " I wish I could recommend any books that would be 
 
 useful to Mr. C , with whom I was much pleased. 
 
 But I do not even understand the subject on which he is 
 going to write. The ' object of literary criticism,' indeed, is 
 intelligible enough, though admitting of various descrip- 
 tions. ' But I should have thought that, when the object 
 was once ascertained, the limits, as excluding all that is 
 foreign to the object, would be determined at the same 
 time. 
 
 " I read the ' Spanish Gipsy ' about a month ago, and 
 enjoyed it very much. Perhaps, in point of form, it is an 
 imperfection that it is neither drama nor epic, but it has 
 the advantage of greater variety in being both. 
 
 " I admit that there are cases in which Lanfrey con- 
 demns Napoleon in which a jury before whom he was 
 tried for his life would rightly acquit him ; but a historian 
 cannot act on the princij)le of ' giving the benefit of a 
 doubt.' And you know that when a man is acquitted on 
 that ground he saves his life, but loses his character. I 
 did not myself notice any judgment of Lanfrey's which I 
 did not think perfectly just. 
 
 " I thought that ' Avonhoe,' though pleasant reading, 
 had a didactic flavour, which would have injured ' Stone
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 150 
 
 Edsfe.' The merit of the hist is what in German is called 
 objectivity. 
 
 " . . . . Why should you be sorry about being- 
 brought up and the property administered in the Con- 
 servative interest, until you know whether that means 
 Tory or Kadical ? Does not Disraeli call himself a Con- 
 servative, and does anybody know which he is ? 
 
 " I have consulted my privy council as to the chance of 
 my publishing my ' Llangathen Sermon,' and I am told 
 there is none whatever. Surely this branch of literature 
 is already rather overloaded. It is easier to define the 
 ' object ' of sermon- writing than its ' limits.' . . . ," 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 5 Aug., 1868, 
 
 " . . . . Thoudi, as I observed, the weather is the 
 staple material of our correspondence, and our one piece 
 de resistance, you have never yet informed me of your 
 views and feelings on this vital point ; neither how it 
 agrees with you, nor how you like it. I do not know 
 whether you are one of the many who have been grum- 
 bling at it, or of the few who, like myself, have enjoyed it 
 intensely, Avith pleasure only alloyed by the reflection on 
 the harm it is doing among the poor sheep and cattle. At 
 any rate, it is something which few will see twice in the 
 course of their lives. One can hardly help speculating on 
 the cause of such an extraordinary occurrence. You 
 remember that the strangely cold and misty summer of a 
 few years back was attributed to the promixity of some 
 enormous iceberg, which had floated out of the Polar Sea 
 into lower latitudes. I have been reminded of this by 
 the article in the Cornhill on the great coming eclipse. 
 It seems that the sun from time to time sends out 
 globules, that is, masses only two or three times as big as
 
 160 Bisnop TiiiRL wall's 
 
 our globe, and hot enoiigli to melt everytliing eartlily into 
 vapour. May it be that it has shot out some mass of 
 unusual bulk, or else to an unusual distance, and that to 
 this we owe our three or four months of almost unbroken 
 fine weather ? I dare say you can answer this question 
 quite as well as the Astronomer Royal. Still, interesting 
 as it is, it was not for the sake of consulting you upon it 
 that I began writing this letter, but chiefly to let you 
 know that I am going to send you the last Saturday 
 Review, which contains three articles interesting to ladies : 
 one, of the richest impertinence, on ' Pretty Preachers ; ' 
 another, not so lively, on ' Spoiled Women ; ' and a third, 
 which I can say nothing about, on the ' Rights of Married 
 Women.' 
 
 " Beside this, however, I want to know what are your 
 plans for the next month or two. Did not I hear of some 
 Breton Eisteddfod ? If so, are you going to it ? and 
 when ?...." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 13 Auff., 1868. 
 
 " You must let the Indian Rothschild tell his own 
 story, fancying him in a magnificent room of his new 
 palace, in a circle of young merchants eager to profit by 
 his experience. 
 
 " ' It is no mighty wonder if those who set out in life 
 with a good fortune amass great wealth ; but that was not 
 my lot. My father was a merchant, but he died before I 
 was born, leaving but little to my mother, and she was 
 deprived of that through the villainy of her kinsmen, and 
 forced to take shelter in the house of a friend, where she 
 lived upon alms. As I grew up, however, she prevailed 
 upon a schoolmaster to teach me reading, writing, and 
 ciphering gratuitously. I had even a little turn for draw-
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 161 
 
 ing ; but nothing had my mother and I between us in 
 the world, save our wooden bowl and earthen jug. 
 
 " ' One day she said to me, "My son, you should be a mer- 
 chant like 3'our father. There is a banker in the town who 
 is generous as well as rich, and, perhaps, he may advance 
 you a small sum to start with in trade. Yishachala is his 
 name. Go to him, and ask him for a loan." Upon this I 
 went to Yishachala' s house. As I entered the counting-house 
 I heard him speaking in an angry tone to a young man. 
 " A clever fellow," said he, " would be able to make a for- 
 tune with that dead mouse," pointing to one that lay on 
 the floor. " But as for you, I have lent you large sums, 
 and I hardly expect to see either principal or interest 
 again." Upon this I took up the mouse, and requested 
 Yishachala to let me carry it away as a loan. He smiled, 
 and said. "Well, but you must give me a receipt." So, 
 having neither palm-leaf nor writing-reed, I scratched a 
 rude figure of a mouse on one of his boxes, and went 
 away. 
 
 " 'As I walked home, dangling my mouse by the tail, I 
 passed a house where a cat was sitting at the door. At 
 the sight of the mouse she made a mouth, as they do at 
 a bird in a cage, and seemed ready to spring at it. Her 
 master, seeing her longing, asked me, " What Avilt take, 
 lad, for thy small game ?" I answered, " What you please, 
 sir;" adding, however, to do justice to my commodity, "it 
 is a plump, fresh mouse." So he put tAVO handfuls of peas 
 into my bowl. That was my first stroke of business, and 
 the origin of all my fortune. 
 
 " ' I went home, pounded my peas, and having filled my 
 jug at the fountain, went out of the town, and seated 
 myself at a cross-road, under the shade of a banyan-tree. 
 Presently came a party of woodcutters out of the forest, 
 thirsty and faint. I asked them politely whether they 
 would not stop and refresh themselves with a mouthful of
 
 162 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 good pease-pudding and a draught of cool water fresh 
 from the fountain. They did not want pressing, and, 
 being pleased with my manners as well as with my goods, 
 paid me liberally. Each gave me a couple of sticks. 
 These I took to the market in a bundle, and with 
 what they fetched laid in a fresh stock of peas, which I 
 disposed of in the same way. I continued to drive such 
 a thriving trade, that at last I was able to purchase a 
 whole day's cuttings of wood. Then happened a piece of 
 good luck such as never fails to betide those who bestir 
 themselves, and keep a keen look-out to the main chance. 
 A heavy fall of rain stopped the supply of wood for the 
 use of the town, and gave me the monopoly of the market. 
 I did not fail to make the most of this blessing of the 
 gods, and invested the profits in a shop of my own. This 
 was the great and decisive turn in my fortune. From a 
 small hucksterer I became master of a warehouse, and then 
 a general merchant. Everything I touched turned to 
 gold. 
 
 " ' But when I had become the richest of the rich I did 
 not forget the author of my prosperity, the banker 
 Vishachala. I caused a mouse to be made in jjure gold, 
 and went with it to his counting-house. I asked him 
 whether he recollected me. He shook his head and begged 
 me to say what I wanted. I said I had come to repay 
 him an advance which he had made to me, both capital 
 and interest. He requested me to help him in searching 
 for the entry in his books. I said I could show it at once. 
 Thereupon I pointed to the figure of the mouse which I 
 had scratched on the box. This brought the whole scene 
 back to his memory. I then placed the golden mouse on 
 the figure, and said, " There, sir, you have the capital with 
 interest." 
 
 " I need not tell you that he afterwards gave me his 
 only daughter in marriage, and that I became heir of his
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 163 
 
 immense wealtli. You also know that I am known all over 
 India by the nickname of the " Golden Mouse." But few 
 are acquainted with its history ' " 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 25 Sept., 1868. 
 
 " .... I can endorse everything that he says in praise 
 of Tyndall's address at Norwich. To me it afforded a 
 particular satisfaction, as adding the weight of his authority 
 to that which I had said on the same subject in my Swan- 
 sea address. I was very glad to hear from him — in the 
 letter which you saw — that there was nothing in it to 
 which a man of science would object, and it afforded me 
 still greater pleasure to find him so distinctly expressing 
 the same view. 
 
 " . . . . It (the Irish Church) is a question with 
 many sides, and yet so few people who talk and write 
 about it appear to have looked at more than one. A 
 great number of votes will probably be given on the same 
 side from entirely different, perhaj)S exactly opposite, 
 motives. I cannot bring myself to feel any alarm at the 
 prospect of — - — ^'s discomfiture. A man who has no mind 
 or will of his own is not the man for these times. Nothing 
 was wanting to the people who produced Julius Ciesar's 
 endowment of their church but to have annexed to it a 
 decree of St. Peter for his canonization.''' 
 
 "The kitten t is too perfect when one is not able to 
 stroke it. 
 
 "I am at present most interested by the news from 
 Spain. I do so very much wish to hear of that wretched 
 Queen being finally sent adrift. Not that one can help 
 
 * This refers to a certain medieval church said to have been dedicated to 
 the Virgin Mary by Julius Cassar. 
 t A photograph.
 
 164 
 
 feeling some degree of pity for one who was the victim of 
 diplomatic intrigues. But she is not the less intolerable ; 
 and the coolness of her proposal to be allowed to retain 
 her power under the title of Regent shows how much 
 she reckons on human folly. Yet the prospect for Sj^ain 
 seems to be only an exchange of despotism for anarchy." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 5 Oct., 1868. 
 
 " I fully appreciate the kindness of the precedence you 
 have given me over such a host of correspondents. I 
 should have liked, if I had been able, to return the Dur- 
 ham letter on Saturday, and now rather regret that I did 
 not, reserving the rest for future notice ; for your budget 
 of good things was so multifarious, that I had not then 
 time to digest or consider it, and each item seems to call 
 
 for a little word I agree with you in condemning 
 
 your friend's view of the Irish Church question. His 
 fundamental proposition, that the alleged grievance is 
 only a sentimental one, is, to say the least, disputable 
 and precarious, assuming what many would deny ; but 
 if it was admitted, it would remind me of a doctor who 
 had a theory that no disease was so bad as a cold, and 
 when any one said he had only a cold, used to say, 
 ' Only a cold ! What would you have ? — the plague ? ' 
 Surely it is the sentiment of being aggrieved that is the 
 essence of every grievance. Here let me say, that delight- 
 ful as is the extract from the French review (which is 
 worthy of the pen of the celebrated Assolant), the mistake 
 of the German paper is still more exquisite, and more 
 worthy of a French than a German writer. Do you remem- 
 ber that some years ago a play had a great run at Paris, 
 in which the plot turned mainly on the intrigues of the 
 Earl of Derby to be elected Lord Mayor ? . . . .
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 165 
 
 " Though one rejoices in the expulsion of Isabella, the 
 Spanish prospect is gloomy on account of the general 
 ajiathy of the people, Avho take no interest in the parties 
 who will be contending for the mastery, and even the very 
 Avorst of reofular o^overnments is better than a chronic civil 
 Avar, which is most likely to end in the restoration of the 
 rejected dynasty. 
 
 " It was Mr. Basevi, brother of the ill-fated architect, 
 Avho initiated me in the science and art of conveyancing — 
 one of the three branches of the law to which I devoted 
 as many years, which I do not at all regret. How could 
 you fancy that I had heard of any ' pending marriages ' ? 
 Do they make a noise in the Sahara or m the Arctic 
 Ocean ? 
 
 " I have everything yet to learn as to the doctrine of 
 the Caledonian Arthur, not even knowing whether he is 
 supposed to be a distinct person from the hero of Tintagel. 
 
 " I knew of the first return of Miss Clark's swift, and am 
 glad to hear that it continues faithful. When I consider 
 what a fund of affectionate attachment there is in the breast 
 of each of these dear little creatures, I feel more than ever 
 indignant at the wanton and stupid cruelty with which 
 they are massacred. Miss Bremer, on her voyage to Ame- 
 rica, saw a little bird almost spent with the fatigue of its 
 long flight, and trying to rest upon the mast or rigging of 
 the ship. Two monsters — an Englishman and a Spaniard 
 — in spite of her remonstra,nces, kept scaring it away until 
 it dropped, Avhen they put it into a cage, where it died in a 
 couple of hours. She believed in a Nemesis — that the 
 time would come when they would seek rest and find none. 
 She observes that on a Swedish vessel such a strano-er 
 would have been welcomed Avith crumbs of bread 
 
 " The title of that French play was La Popularite. It 
 was the Avork of an eminent dramatist — I think Alfred de 
 la Vigne."
 
 166 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 ' Abergwili Palace, 27 Oct., 18G8. 
 
 " You are evidently in a state of great darkness as to 
 the nature and value of rumour, when you take it for 
 granted that it always has some ground. Some few 
 months ago I received a number of applications for a 
 living in North Wales which was transferred to my patron- 
 age. Admonished by experience, I began l)y making 
 inquiry as to the fact of the vacancy. It turned out that 
 the incumbent was perfectly well, and that it was only at a 
 distance that anything was supposed to ail him. There 
 was not only no ground, but no discoverable occasion, of 
 the rumour. But when rumour is so modest as not even 
 to report me seriously ill, you ought to feel quite sure that 
 there is nothing at the bottom worth inquiring about. 
 
 " I was obliged yesterday to defer reading your letter 
 until after post time, or I would have returned the enclo- 
 sures at once, reserving any remarlvs upon them for a later 
 occasion. 
 
 " As to Lady 's business, I am overwhelmed with 
 
 confusion, but am forced to own that from the date of our 
 conversation (which has itself escaped my recollection) 
 until this the subject never recurred to my mind. I can, 
 however, plead in excuse that I am quite conscious of this 
 defect, and, when I can, always require that questions on 
 matters of business should be laid before me in black and 
 
 white. You seem to have supposed that Lady 's was one 
 
 to which I could give an immediate answer, and are also 
 under the (m this case unfortunate) delusion that one of 
 the most treacherous of memories is singularly retentive — 
 as if you should take a sieve for a saucepan. Now, how- 
 ever, that I have the question on pa2:>er, I may say that 
 I believe it could not be answered without further par- 
 ticulars, such as the original title to the vault, whether by 
 Faculty or otherwise, and the precise nature of the altera-
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 167 
 
 tions contemplated. But it must also be observed that the 
 necessity of a Faculty may be taken in two senses. It 
 might be legally necessary, and yet practically needless. 
 
 " As in the restoration or rebuilding of churches, a 
 Faculty is not taken out in one case of a thousand, and 
 yet it is legally necessary in all, unless the proposed altera- 
 tion is of such a nature as to aft'ect the rights of other 
 parties. But pray remember that I speak only as a 
 private individual, and that as bishop I have no voice in 
 such matters out of my court. And how strange it is that 
 you should have asked my opinion, when you could have 
 got one so very much better from your father. 
 
 " Now a word on your correspondent. I not only most 
 sincerely sympathize with his very natural perplexity, but 
 consider him as an ill-used man. I have no doubt that 
 he could write a caj^ital essay, but hardly without a sub- 
 ject. It is mere Pharaonic cruelty to set him to making- 
 bricks without straw. It seems to me a positive breach of 
 faith to use any unmeaning or tautologous terms in 
 announcing the subject of a prize essay. And yet I do not 
 see how the term limits can mean anything that is not 
 implied in the term ohject. When you have defined the 
 object of literary criticism you have traced its limit ; in 
 other words, you have shown what does and does not 
 belong to it. If the framer of the question meant any- 
 thing else, he certainly ought to have expressed himself 
 more clearly. 
 
 " I doubt very much whether any books will be found 
 to throw any light on the obscurity of the question, and I 
 
 believe that Mr. C will have to make up his mind for 
 
 himself on the sense which he attaches to it, and upon this 
 to ground the plan of his essay, and that his reading will 
 be chiefly useful in the filling up of this outline. And for 
 this purpose there is hardly any book relating to literature 
 that might not be found useful. Examples of literary
 
 168 BISHOP THIRLWALL'S 
 
 criticism — such as, among tlie ciders, Johnson and Addison, 
 among the moderns Matthew Arnold and Sainte-Beuve — 
 might be not less suggestive than theories of criticism 
 from Pope, and Boileau, and Lord Kames, to Dallas, who 
 has this special recommendation, that I strongly suspect it 
 was his work that suggested the subject of the essay, and 
 
 that Mr. C would not be making a very rash venture 
 
 if he acted on this supposition. A general view of modern 
 European literature, such as Hallam's, might also furnish 
 useful matter and hints " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 9 Nov., 1868. 
 
 " .... If you long to see the end of the election 
 scuffles, how thankful ought I to be that I not only have 
 nothing to do with them, but am bound not to interfere 
 with them — which, of course, need not and does not pre- 
 vent me from feeling a deep interest in the result. But 
 the election itself, though a necessary evil, tends, I believe, 
 always more or less to demoralise ail who are concerned in 
 it. If you are conscious of an unwholesome influence, 
 how must it be with others ! How happy it is, for 
 
 instance, for Mr. that he should be disabled from 
 
 taking an active part in the strife, and should be so much 
 better employed upon that fiction, which I hope some day 
 to read with as much pleasure as the old ones. I quite 
 forgive him his unfavourable judgment on myself, and 
 almost envy the one-sidedness which permits him to 
 believe that there can be only one rational view of the 
 Irish Church question. But I could have wished that he 
 had been a little more careful in his choice of language, 
 and had not expressed himself as if absence from a division 
 was the same thing as voting with the majority. A 
 bishop, I think, may be excused if he is not ambitious of
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 169 
 
 being more liberal than Stanley, the ' Liberal of the 
 Liberals,' who, nevertheless, at the meeting in St. 
 James's Hall, ' urged,' ' as a Liberal,' * that the union of 
 Church and State ought to be maintained, as far as pos- 
 sible, in Ireland.' How far that is, is a very grave 
 
 question, on which I suspect Mr. has not spent 
 
 much thought. But surely no one need be ashamed of 
 taking the same view of it which was taken by all the 
 most eminent Liberal statesmen from the Union to the 
 present year, and has now only been abandoned by some 
 now living on a questionable assumjition of its having 
 become impracticable. Under these circumstances, it 
 appeared to me that to go to the House of Lords only for 
 the purpose of saying that I could not vote with either 
 party, having a theory of my own which separated me 
 from both, would have been foolish and impertinent. 
 
 " I must close hastily with some miscellaneous notes, 
 as I have to leave home this afternoon for an official 
 ensfagfement in Pembrokeshire. 
 
 " Pray do not let the prospect of my translation to 
 Lambeth disturb your tranquillity. I cannot tell you 
 how perfectly safe you are I send the Contem- 
 porary Revietu by this post. Pray let me know that it 
 has reached you safely. 
 
 " I am afraid that Alford is too sanguine in his expecta- 
 tions, both as to the terms on which the separation which 
 he evidently desires will be effected and as to the results." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 19 Nov., 1868. 
 
 " I am not in the least hurry for the Contemporary. I 
 also rejoice in the appointment of the Bishop of London, 
 and likewise in that of his successor (Lincoln), who has 
 always voted and spoken on the right side, and was an
 
 170 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 object of special complaint from the Bishop of Capetown. 
 I cannot profess to be equally well pleased with the eleva- 
 tion of Wordsworth in his room, having a strong antij^athy 
 to many of W.'s views. But as far as learning, talents, 
 and character are concerned, he must be admitted to be 
 eminently entitled to a seat on the bench. I must there- 
 fore let Disraeli have that which a proverbial precept 
 forbids us to withhold from a much more disreputable 
 character, and say that his ecclesiastical appointments 
 have been excellent, and raise my opinion of his judg- 
 ment. I see that they have not pleased his party, which 
 is a strong proof of their goodness. But I should not 
 wonder if in making them he was looking forward to a 
 time when he might declare himself the leader of a 
 Liberal-Conservative party, with a strong emphasis on the 
 first half of the compound, making the second hardly 
 audible. 
 
 " You do not exactly touch the point as to Mr. . 
 
 I did not, and do not, complain of any opinion he had 
 expressed about me, but of a misstatement of a plain 
 matter of fact. To say that I made one of a 'mob of 
 bishops,' on an occasion when I was, as everybody knows, 
 physically, and, as every one of them knew, mentally, 
 separate from them, is a misrepresentation, for which no 
 bodily infirmity, unless accompanied by weakness or dis- 
 order of mind, is a sufficient excuse. He might have said 
 that in his opinion I was bound not to keep aloof from 
 but to confront the ' mob of bishops.' I could then only 
 have claimed the right of judging for myself on such a 
 point. The Spectator had in a manner expressly summoned 
 me to the debate, and declared itself ' disappointed ' at my 
 absence ; but it had too much regard to truth and common 
 sense to speak of that as if it made me one of the majority. 
 I should be very sorry if I did not expect to have an 
 opportunity of explaining my views of the question, not
 
 LETTEES TO A FRIEND. 171 
 
 simply as I have already done, privately to ' the mob,' but 
 with the fullest publicity. But I am glad that I have 
 reserved myself for a future occasion. 
 
 " The most remarkable event of the elections, so far, is 
 Mill's loss of his seat. Only to think that nothing could 
 have shaken it if he only Avould have kept quiet, and not 
 gone out of his way to give offence to his friends ! And 
 yet they were all noble and generous errors, such as no 
 cold-blooded or not scrupulously conscientious and self- 
 sacrificing man could have committed. People who onl}' 
 knew him by his literary character supposed him to be a 
 man of cool temperament. He is evidently, like Glad- 
 stone — in whom for a time it was as little suspected — a 
 man of vehemently passionate susceptibility. The snow 
 covers a volcano " '"" 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 4 Dec, 1868. 
 
 " .... I believe that the orthodox explanation of the 
 fact which you so justly deplore is, that there lies at the 
 bottom of every human heart a more or less deep pool of 
 something like petroleum, which is harmless enough Jis 
 long as it is left to itself, but if it is heated, either by 
 contact with flame or by any violent shock, overflows in a 
 state of fearful combustion, f 
 
 " Another explanation is, that when men have any 
 object in view which for the time appears to them 
 supremely desirable, they are apt to overlook the quality 
 
 * " I did not approve of Mill's persecution of Eyre any more than T sjtii- 
 pathized w-itli Eyre's apologists; but I am con^'ineed that JMill was actuated 
 by the purest and noblest motives, without the slightest personal feeling. 
 ]\Iind, I do not say I wish for a House of Commons all Mill, but I think one 
 would always be very useful." 
 
 t This refers to an allusion to the ill feelings occasioned by a contested 
 election. 
 
 M
 
 172 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 of the means by which it is to be attained. Are you in 
 
 favour of triennial parhaments ? If so, I suppose Mr. 
 
 would like them to be annual. 
 
 " Now that we have got our new Parliament, I cannot 
 say I am very much delighted with the result of the great 
 struggle. Some of the ablest of the last have been 
 ejected, and I do not know of a single superior mind that 
 has been brought in to supply their place. It is true that 
 Gladstone has a majority pledged to follow him on one 
 point ; but when they have redeemed that pledge it 
 remains to be seen whether he will be able to hold them 
 together any better than he did before. Something, no 
 doubt, is wanting in him which Disraeli possesses in 
 perfection ; but I am not sure that, if they were to 
 exchange parts, Disraeli would succeed better with such 
 a following " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 7 Dec, 1868. 
 
 " . . . . Considering the poem"^^" merely as a literary per- 
 formance, I do not think it very much amiss. There are 
 good as well as bad lines in it, and its faults are mostly in 
 excess of vigour, which is the right side. But, considered 
 as a political pamphlet in verse, however good it might 
 have been in its kind, I should have disliked it, because 
 in my opinion the kind itself is not legitimate, but base 
 and mongrel. It is a poetical argument ; but the poetry 
 is not argument, nor the argument poetry. The one 
 spoils the other, and the mixture is worthless. 
 
 " Perhaps, however, it may be too exacting to expect 
 anything in a burlesque poem that could be translated 
 into serious prose. But here the author has contrived to 
 
 * A political poem on the Irish Church, &c.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 173 
 
 betray most disgraceful ignorance on one certainly not 
 unimportant aspect of the Irish Church question. 
 
 " It is quite evident that he seriously believes that the 
 Irish Roman Catholic priesthood have been giving proof of 
 disinterestedness in refusing all endowment from the State, 
 as if they had not good reason for declining a provision 
 which would at once lessen their income (the average of 
 which, I believe, exceeds that of the Protestant clergy) 
 and weaken their influence. That to gratify their cupidity 
 and ambition they should desire to continue sucking the 
 blood of the poor is the less surprising as they identify 
 themselves with ' the Catholic Church.' But that a man, 
 not one of themselves or of their sheep, should be found 
 ignorant enough to be duped by their impudent hypocrisy, 
 and to hold them up as models of primitive self-denial, 
 &c., is a saddening example of the success of imposture. 
 
 " Is not Disraeli's fall the most becoming act of his life ? 
 
 " I was rather glad to see in Gladstone's Lancashire 
 speeches that he at least does not consider me as making 
 one of a ' mob of bishops,' but quite the reverse " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 12 Dec, 18G8. 
 
 " . . . . The self-abnegation Avliich the author of the 
 poem attributes to the Irish priesthood is probably the 
 effect of sheer ignorance, for if he had been aware that 
 the Romish clergy, not only in France but in Protestant 
 Prussia, accept state pay along Avith Protestants and Jews, 
 he could hardly have failed to see that if it Avas refused 
 by their brethren in Ireland this could not be on any 
 higher princijDle, but simply on a calculation of interest, 
 which satisfied them that they are better off as they are, 
 though at the expense of their poor flocks, not to speak 
 of their secret hopes that the}^ may one day become the 
 
 M 2
 
 174 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 Established and Endowed Cliurcli of Ireland, until wliicli 
 time they will do their utmost to excite disaffection to 
 
 the English Government and to agitate for repeal 
 
 But on another point I cannot let him off so easily .... 
 his attack on, not the livings, but the lives of the Irish 
 
 clergy Such things cannot claim the impunity 
 
 of a joke. They are either true or they are falsehoods. 
 .... I beheve that a body of men more irreproachable 
 in their lives than the Irish clergy of this day never 
 existed. In the Irish debate this was acknowledged even 
 more emphatically by the opponents of the Irish esta- 
 blishment than by its defenders. If Mr. had been 
 
 a member and had ventured to utter the like insinua- 
 tions he would have been put down by the indignant 
 reprobation of both sides of the House. This calumny 
 is also what Talleyrand thought worse than a crime — an 
 egregious blunder. It betrays his inability to understand 
 the question, which does not in the least turn on the 
 character of the Irish clergy as a body, but on their 
 legal position. He raises what your father would call a 
 false issue 
 
 "I am glad you enjoy the 'Earthly Paradise.'"'^ I do 
 not know the ' Happy Isles.' It is true that before 
 ' Jason ' Morris was almost — not quite — unknown. I 
 was the more surprised to see, in a review of 'Jason,' 
 an allusion to, I think, two earlier works, which had 
 been appreciated by a few, but not heard of by the 
 many, of whom I made one. I have never yet seen them, 
 and do not know their names. ' Jason ' was, I think, too 
 perfect for a first work. 
 
 " I am ashamed to say that I have not yet found 
 
 * " Yes, some of my very pleasantest hours last summer were spent in 
 IMorris's 'Earthly Paradise.' I am a great admirer of all that I have seen of 
 his, which is, however, only this and ' Jason,' and I look forward with the 
 prospect of much enjoyment to the second volume of the ' Earthly Paradise,' 
 which is to come out next year."
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 175 
 
 leisure for Skene. You know it is not exactly light 
 reading. 
 
 " I do not remember tlie article on the ' Atrocious 
 Atilla ; ' but, if it is not too sceptical, I should like to be 
 quite sure that there is such a pamphlet, and that it was 
 not invented by the Saturday as a vehicle for its own 
 speculations. I sometimes suspect that in like manner 
 it sometimes reviews novels which were never seen outside 
 of its pages, as they are very often incredibly absurd, 
 and such as, if published, would fall dead from the press, 
 but yet furnish amusing articles. 
 
 " I was once interested in vitrified forts, but having 
 some years ago clambered up a high hill near Inverness in 
 quest of one which was described in my guide-book as a 
 remarkably fine specimen, and, though I had two natives 
 to guide me, having been unable to find a single vitrified 
 stone, I must own that my appetite has been rather 
 weakened by want of nourishment. Do you know whether 
 the outside of that beautiful Irish fort near the sea, 
 between Valentia and Bantry Bay, was vitrified I I 
 remember it had a glazed look. 
 
 " .... I must now shut up. Yesterday I had to write 
 all the morning until candle-lighting, and then rushed out 
 to breathe a little fresh air, but in about ten minutes 
 was driven in by pelting rain. To-day is too fine to be 
 so lost." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 26 Bee, 1868. 
 
 " I returned from town on the 18th. It would have 
 been unseemly in a Eitual Commission, even if they 
 were not flesh and blood, to have taken no notice of 
 Christmas. We do not resume our sittings until the 
 27 th January
 
 176 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 
 
 " I remember that article in tlie Saturday on 'Skipping,' 
 but read it skippingly. Of course when I read the 
 Times I do not go through all the advertisements, or even 
 all the correspondence ; but when I sit down to a book I 
 feel the same kind of scruple which you describe, and very 
 seldom omit a single word unless I am forced to give it 
 up before I come to the end, which has happened to me 
 with a few works of fiction ; but if I had not curiosity 
 enough to carry me through the whole I should certainly 
 not have courage and patience for writing an abstract 
 of it. 
 
 " By-the-bye, have you seen the continuation of King- 
 lake's ' Crimean War ' ? The two new volumes are pain- 
 fully interesting. It is almost heartbreaking to think of 
 the opportunities we lost, and how, having thrown them 
 away, we were only saved from destruction by the still 
 greater incapacity of the enemy. But only to think that 
 four thick volumes have brought us no farther than the 
 Charges of Balaclava ! I hardly venture to hope that I 
 shall live to read the whole story. 
 
 " I will take note of the locality of Mr. Meredyth 
 Thomas's studio, and when I am in town again will 
 endeavour to call there ; but I can never reckon on any 
 day or hour as at my own disposal. 
 
 " I am here in the enjoyment of quasi-patriarchal 
 felicity, surrounded by John and his wife and their nine 
 children. 
 
 " With every kind of good wish proper or improper to 
 the season "
 
 1869.
 
 Abergwili Palace, 22 Jan., 1869. 
 
 " Pray never attempt again to say a word in favour of 
 Chaos. Here have I been spending fully as much time as 
 I can sj)ar6 for answering your letter in hunting for it, 
 knowing all the Avhile that it was within arm's reach, but 
 Chaos refusing to give it up until I had abandoned the 
 search in despair and sat down to write, when, as if tired 
 of teasing me, it peeped out from under a slight cover. I 
 cannot conceive whereabouts is all the beautiful scenery 
 you have described. It seems from the name to be some- 
 where between Swansea and Port Talb3t. But I am 
 puzzled by the name itself It no doubt, as all Welsh 
 names of places, exactly describes the position 
 
 " I love that companionable goldfinch. I hoj^e he has 
 strengthened your abhorrence of the infamous persecution 
 of his sweet race which is now going on with redoubled 
 fury under the basest pretexts and from the vilest motives 
 by land and sea, and which threatens some branches of 
 the family with extermination. The systematic destruction 
 of the ' small birds ' under the pretence of their doing 
 injury to agriculture, to which they were really rendering 
 most valuable service, was bad enough. (One longs for 
 a world in which colossal robins, armed with bow and 
 arrow, shall shoot the murderous farmers.) But the 
 massacres of myriads of sea-fowl, involving the starva- 
 tion of many more myriads of their bereaved young, 
 all for the sake of a little additional ornament for
 
 180 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 ladies' bonnets, fills me with grief and indignation. I 
 conjure you never to wear a single feather that has been 
 so obtained, and to use all your influence to dissuade your 
 friends from doing so. Think of Miss Clark's swallow. 
 
 " I was not aware that the boulders transported by 
 icebergs or glaciers exhibited marks of the ice which 
 carried them. I thought the action of the ice was only 
 visible on the sides of the rocks by which the glacier 
 passed. But this reminds me of a truly dreadful fact 
 which only became known to me yesterday as I was cutting 
 open the AthencBuni of November last. Were you aware 
 that the Breton farmers are actively engaged in removing 
 all the Druidical remains for some ' useful ' purpose, so 
 that, if nobody interferes, they will before long have 
 entirely disappeared? Ought you not to write to M. Henri 
 Martin to inquire whether anything is being done to stop 
 the ravages of this atrocious Vandalism, which is even 
 worse than that of the Bande Noire, because that had the 
 plea of waging war on the relics of the feudal system, 
 and, though the result was deplorable, the motive might 
 have been patriotic ? But there is no such excuse for the 
 barbarous demolishment of the Celtic monuments. Yet I 
 sujjpose the destroyers think themselves more enlightened 
 than their forefathers, who neglected to avail themselves 
 of such a quarry already worked for them when they had 
 nothing to do but to cart the stones away. 
 
 " The Brazilian victory over Paraguay having hitherto 
 been only reported by Brazilian bulletins is thought likely 
 to have been — not indeed invented — but exaggerated. I 
 think that however complete it may have been, you need 
 not despair of the fortunes of Paraguay. There is a 
 wonderful vitality in those South American States nourished 
 by inexhaustible resources, and not to be quenched either 
 
 by hostile force or by the worst misgovernment I 
 
 am not deeply concerned in the pitch revolution, and yet
 
 LETTEES TO A FRIEND. 181 
 
 I was always offended by musical screaming, as in my 
 playgoing days I was with that of almost all the popular 
 tragic actresses who followed Mrs. Siddons. She never 
 offended the ear even in her most impassioned scenes. 
 It was no doubt an advantage which she owed to her 
 being born at Brecon " 
 
 1, Eegent Street, 30 Jan., 1869. 
 
 " Ever since my arrival in Babylon each day has been 
 entirely occupied with attendance at the Ritual Commis- 
 sion and a Lectionary Committee appointed by it ; and 
 even if the business of these conferences was not tabooed, 
 it would have afforded no materials capable of yielding the 
 smallest entertainment to you. 
 
 " On my journey I had a delightful companion in Lan- 
 frey, who has just brought out a third volume. I found 
 it the most interesting of the three. Among other things 
 he fixes his hero with the undivided responsibility of the 
 murder of the Due d'Enghien, and proves it to have been 
 a perfectly cold-blooded assassination calculated for a 
 political object, with the fullest knowledge of the innocence 
 of his victim. 
 
 " On Thursday I dined at the Deanery, Westminster, 
 and happening to ask Lady Augusta whether she had read 
 Lanfrey, found that she entirely agreed and sympathized 
 with me on the subject from her own domestic experience. 
 She told me that her father was detained by Bonaparte — 
 in flagrant breach of the law of nations — when returning 
 from the embassy of Constantinople, in revenge for some- 
 thing which he was supposed to have said there. We 
 asfreed with one another that the most violent invectives 
 applied to Bonaparte in England, at the moment of the 
 greatest exasperation against him, did not approach the
 
 182 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 truth, because, before recent disclosures, though he was con- 
 sidered as a hard unscrupulous tyrant, nobody suspected 
 the depths of baseness to which he had descended " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 13 Teh., 1869. 
 
 " Your little bark came into port at the time you had 
 calculated, but found me completely occupied with clearing 
 out for my home voyage, which I accomplished yesterday ; 
 and as usual after every return I am a good deal pressed 
 and hurried, but as I shall be more and more so until 
 the end of my ordination business, I think it best to 
 scrawl a little now. I am very deeply sensible of the kind- 
 ness which breathes through all you say about me, and 
 which I hope I return with something at least better than 
 I can express. No doubt I believe that a future state of 
 being involves personal consciousness and caj)acity of 
 recognition, and would otherwise be a mere empty name. 
 But the longer I live the more I am surprised at the 
 birthday congratulations which I receive from my friends. 
 I can quite understand their propriety during the morning 
 of life, when each successive stage is one of increased 
 vigour and enjoyment. But to be congratulated on having 
 advanced a step nearer to the grave, on having a year less 
 to live — what is the meaning of that ? And when the con- 
 gratulation is accompanied by wishes that I may live to the 
 age of Tithonus or of Methuselah, but exempt from decrepi- 
 tude and infirmity, and that the course of nature may be 
 changed in my favour, though I know the kindness from 
 which these wishes proceed, they unavoidably sound to 
 me like mockery. I do not believe that any old man ever 
 congratulated himself on his birthday unless he was eager 
 for the end of his life ; I am sure I never did. Why, then, 
 should my friends do so for me ? . . . .
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 183 
 
 " I never heard Wallace's 'Night Winds,' but I so delight 
 in the real howl of the blast that I am sure I should enjoy 
 any good musical imitation. 
 
 " You do not seem to appreciate the blandness of this 
 incomparable winter. Are you aware that at Rome they 
 have had the coldest Avithin memory of man ? Archdeacon 
 Clark writes : ' The water-pipes are bursting ; the fountains 
 are all frozen ; Triton, in the Piazza Barberini, sits on a 
 little mountain of ice ; the fountains in the Piazza of 
 St. Peter's throw up their showers of sjiray, but it freezes 
 as it falls. I sit at home with a great-coat, and wear two 
 when I go out, and do not feel warm,' &c. Is not that a 
 great comfort ? 
 
 " . . . . What do I think of the Irish bishops ? Many 
 things, but not to be said at the fag-end of a letter, and 
 you have not explained the point of your question " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 1 April, 1869. 
 
 " Your last afforded me more than usual pleasure, 
 because, in addition to that which I enjoy from all your 
 letters, there was the gratification of a curiosity which had 
 begun to be quite restless. Nobody in the county knew, 
 
 or could guess, where you were. The , who were 
 
 Avith me for a day or two last week, were quite at sea. 
 All kinds of rumours were afloat about your having been 
 spirited away, on your journey homeward, some believed 
 
 to ; but that you had returned home appears to 
 
 have entered no human mind. Confess that you were 
 pour quelque chose in this general bewilderment, and that 
 by some innocent stratagem, yoti contrived to j)ut your 
 friends on a false scent, and so to escape morning calls, 
 while you lay jperdue, despatching the arrears of your cor- 
 respondence.
 
 184 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 " I begin to be rather thankful to your troublesome 
 tooth for having been the occasion of such a pleasant visit 
 to London, in which you saw so many interesting things 
 and persons. On that Thursday I tried, but in vain, to 
 make you out through the glass of your cage. Did you 
 notice an old gentleman who sat immediately below me ? 
 On his right was Lord Houghton, who told me that ' the 
 arch-rebel' was in the house. I did not at first under- 
 stand that he meant Jefferson Davis, but when he explained 
 himself I asked whether he knew the arch-rebel by sight, 
 on which he put on an air of pious horror, as if the very 
 sight of such a person would soil the purity of his Northern 
 principles. On this I asked, ' Is Reverdy Johnson here ? ' 
 ' Yes, here he is,' said he, pointing to the old gentleman 
 below me, who straightway rose and turned round, and, on 
 my apologizing for my indiscretion, shook me benignly by 
 the hand 
 
 " The ' Ring and the Book ' is in four volumes, and every 
 here and there is really difficult reading. Thajt is why I 
 said read it if you can. I am sometimes forced to read a 
 passage three or four times before I am sure that I under- 
 stand it. That is, no doubt, a fault, though I think it 
 arises mainly from an exaggeration of a merit. It carries 
 the Chinese-like condensation of English style a little too 
 far. There is an increase of vigour as in the clenching of 
 a fist, but it costs time and pains to open it. 
 
 " It is not, however, necessary for the enjoyment of the 
 story to stop at these knotty points, but if it was there 
 would be ample compensation for the exertion in the 
 amazing ingenuity of the invention and beauty of the 
 execution, though a little marred by occasional negligences, 
 which such a poet can well afford, as they rather produce 
 the effect of conscious power 
 
 " I return the three letters, each entertaining in its 
 kind, but especially that of the youngest correspondent.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 185 
 
 who, I am afraid, will not like being ' made a Christian.' 
 But have not all of us, who are Christians, been made so 
 in spite of ourselves ?" 
 
 1, Regent Street, 28 April, 1869. 
 
 " Your sweet letter ■''''' comes every way redolent of spring. 
 The only glimpse of nature I get during this brilliant 
 weather is in crossing the park on my way to Westminster, 
 when I mark the progress of the foliage rather with 
 jealousy than with j)ure delight, thinking how much I 
 should enjoy the sight of my own trees, which, at this 
 most interesting season, are entirely lost to me for this 
 year. 
 
 " This week town offers, not consolation, but a little 
 diversion from this saddening thought in exhibitions of art. 
 You have, no doubt, seen that the National Gallery has 
 taken undivided possession of the building which it shared 
 with the Royal Academy, and that the opening has been 
 marked by the appearance of a newly acquired unfinished 
 ' Entombment,' attributed to Michael Angelo. I have 
 only had one view of it. Nobody can doubt its being the 
 work of a very great master, but how it is that the con- 
 noisseurs have been able to assign it, as they do without a 
 doubt, to Michael Angelo, I do not pretend to know. The 
 almost architectural (pyramidal) symmetry of the grouping 
 strikes the most unlearned eye, but I do not know how far 
 that is characteristic of Michael Angelo. The body in the 
 centre is half raised, partly supported by Joseph of Arima- 
 thea, Avho stands behind, and parti}' by two persons, one on 
 each side, holding the extremities of the band which passes 
 round the body. This white band on the dead-white 
 flesh seems to be considered as a great achievement of 
 
 * Enclosing; violets.
 
 186 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 colouring. The group is complemented by a sitting 
 figure at each corner, one of which, unfortunately, is in a 
 merely rudimentary state. One of the side supporters, 
 who is clad in scarlet — the effect of which, close to the 
 body, you may easily conceive — holds his head back, 
 while he gazes on the dead Christ with an expression of 
 interest which words must fail to describe, but in which I 
 cannot say that I recognised the hand of Michael Angelo, 
 though I do not presume to doubt that it might have been 
 his work. Some friendly genius has insj^ired the Council 
 of the Royal Academy with the thought of sending me a 
 card for the dinner next Saturday, a favour which I had 
 not expected ever to receive again, and which is doubly 
 precious at the inauguration of the new building. I hope 
 that Disraeli will not be prevented by gout from being 
 present 
 
 " I have not read Phillip's ' Musical Recollections,' and 
 I should hardly think that I could enjoy it much in my 
 utter ignorance of music. I am not quite sure whether I 
 had met with Max Muller's interpretation of the myth of 
 Apollo and Daphne. But I believe that any one who 
 knows his system might easily have anticipated it, as a 
 simple application of his principles. The want of time for 
 reading is the great misery of London life, greater on the 
 whole than the banishment from the country ; and the 
 misery is increased by the constant influx of new works. 
 I had begun Lecky's new book on the ' History of European 
 Morals ' (two solid octavos) when Lord Houghton asks me 
 whether I have read ' Kitty,' and tells me it is the best 
 novel he ever read. How, after that, can I help getting 
 and trying to read ' Kitty ' ? 
 
 " But while I am taking little sips of this lighter reading 
 at chance intervals, there comes in Victor Hugo with 
 ' L' Homme qui rit,' in four volumes 8vo. Of this, for the 
 present, I have only read the preface, from which I learn
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 187 
 
 that the subject is the English aristocracy, and that it is 
 to be followed by two others, the first on the (French) 
 monarchy, and the second to be entitled ' Quatre-vingt- 
 treize.' . . . ." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 4 May, 18G9. 
 
 " .... I had some talk last night with Mr. Boxall 
 about his Michael Angelo. The identification, he admits, 
 is purely inferential. But he thinks the dead Christ shows 
 the hand of a painter who was also a sculptor, and that 
 all the other internal evidence points to the youth of Michael 
 Angelo, who, as he believes, purposely left it unfinished, 
 being dissatisfied with it. Since my last I took another 
 and longer view of it, and found it gain upon me by the 
 second inspection. The head of the dead Christ is of 
 incomparable beauty, but whether of the Michael Angelic 
 type seems to me still doubtful. 
 
 "It is curious that one of the most prominent figures 
 appears to stand on one foot, and Mr. Boxall could not 
 tell me where the other w^as supposed to rest " 
 
 1, Regent Street, 12 May, 1869. 
 
 " .... I was one of an immense crowd assembled by 
 the Duchess of Argyll at the India Office. It was a very 
 splendid scene. The centre of the quadrangle, where the 
 ball was given to the Sultan last year, was occupied by 
 some regimental band. The company circulated in the 
 surrounding galleries. It was the only gathering of the 
 kind where something was to be seen beside people's faces. 
 On the second floor is the museum, composed of all the 
 treasures of Indian products and industry formerly lodged
 
 188 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 at the India House, Leadenhall Street, and increased by 
 many later additions. One curiosity I remember to have 
 seen very long ago — a figure, of the size of life, of a tiger 
 with a man under him. When you turn a handle the 
 tiger's paw strikes the man, who utters a moan. This 
 was a toy of Tippoo Sahib's, and represented an English- 
 man in the position in which he would have liked to see 
 every one of the race. 
 
 " The scene was animated by the presence of several 
 Indian potentates — Nawabs or something — moving about 
 in gorgeous oriental costume. (Also by a dear little cat, 
 who glided through the throng with perfect composure, 
 though not an Indian, or even a Persian, but a simple 
 English tabby.) Among the known faces I saw Henry de 
 Bunsen with his wife and daughters, and Ernest de Bunsen 
 with the beautiful Hilda (of whom there is a good portrait 
 at the Royal Academy) 
 
 " Conceive the dissipation in which I am living. I had 
 come from a concert given by the boys at my old school, 
 the Charterhouse, where I was reminded of you by hearing 
 an English translation of ' Aderyn pur ' sung by a very 
 sweet voice with unbounded apj^lause. 
 
 " To-night I am to combine two operations much less 
 easy to reconcile, having first to dine at Merchant Taylors' 
 Hall in my robes, and then to attend the concert at 
 Buckingham Palace, which always involves a very late 
 departure. But that, I hope, will end the debaucheries of 
 my ' season.' .... 
 
 " You will be glad to see in this day's Times two letters 
 from evidently Avell-informed Americans, correcting the 
 impression which had been made by Sumner's sjjeech, as 
 well as by some alarming utterances of Goldwin Smith. 
 There is certainly no logical connexion whatever between 
 the Irish agrarian outrages and the Irish Church Bill ; 
 but it is no less clear that the Opposition looks upon the
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 189 
 
 outrages as a godsend, and hopes that the Land question 
 Avill prove a rock on which the Ministry will split. 
 
 " How droll it is that you should evoke my musical 
 recollections. I do, however, remember hearing Catalani, 
 but it was, I believe, in the period when her voice, if it 
 retained its jjower, had begun to lose its more valuable 
 qualities. I remember even the name of an opera in 
 which I heard her sing. It was Una partita di caccia 
 sotto Enrico Quarto. Malibran I must have heard much 
 later and oftener ; yet I have not a distinct recollection of 
 the fact. Miss Stephens I remember very well, both on 
 and off the stage. I used to see a great deal of her after 
 she became Lady Essex, and even after she had lost her 
 husband. You know Sydney Smith used to complain of 
 the difficulty people had, when she entered a room, to 
 refrain from clapping. 
 
 " I also recollect Paganini, first at Kome, and afterwards 
 in the Haymarket, where he performed his tours de force 
 all the evening on one string. Dragonetti I believe did 
 not appear much, except in an orcliestra. Bochsa col- 
 lected bands of lady harpists to play in concert. But I 
 do not think I can ever have seen Pisaroni's face, as it 
 has left no trace in my memory. The singers whom I 
 remember with the greatest pleasure are Pasta, Rubini, 
 and Lablache, though no doubt that which I received from 
 the last was not purely musical, but in part due to his 
 extraordinary physique " 
 
 1, Regent Stkeet, 13 Mai/, 1869. 
 
 " P.S. — Latest musical recollections. Previous personal 
 adventures. I got away from the dinner — where I sat 
 between Lord Fortescue and Sir Watkin — in excellent 
 time, folloAving the example of the Archbishop of Cantcr- 
 
 N 2
 
 100 
 
 biny, who, after I had talked a little nonsense, retired 
 avowedly because he had to go to the concert. But con- 
 ceive the misery. I had ordered my carriage — to be quite 
 sure of taking advantage of such an opportunity — at a 
 quarter past nine. But my servant, perceiving that dinner 
 was not over before half-past eight, and knowing that it 
 was to be followed by much speechifying and singing, con- 
 cluded that I could not get away before ten, and ordered 
 the carriage at that hour ! I had therefore to pace up and 
 down for about twenty minutes, when he appeared, but with- 
 out the carriage ; and I had to take a cab, in which we 
 met it about half-way, and then, having stopped to doff 
 my robes, proceeded to the Palace. But there I had the 
 agreeable surprise to find that the Prince of Wales had had 
 the goodness to keep the company waiting for me (and for 
 himself) about half an hour, so that the first overture had 
 only just begun when I arrived. Likewise the Bishop of 
 Oxford, though not expecting me, had kept an excellent 
 place for me, commanding a perfect view of the whole 
 scene. The Princess of Wales was looking in excellent 
 
 health, and more lovely than ever There was a 
 
 brilliant display of oriental costumes. One rajah wore a 
 tunic reaching to the ground, of exactly the colours and 
 spangles of Harlequin. But the most astonishing thing I 
 ever saw in such an assembly was a very large tall man of 
 the colour of cinder. It was something quite unearthly, 
 and gave one a lively or deadly idea of an Afreet. The 
 Bishop of Oxford said he must be the representative of 
 some infernal power. 
 
 " Now for the music. It was an unusually good selec- 
 tion, but it is much to be lamented that they do not print 
 books of the words. There were four lady solo singers, all 
 of different races — a Swede, a Hungarian, and a Welsh- 
 woman (Miss Edith Wynne). The country of the fourth I 
 could only guess, as she rejoiced in the unaccountable name
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 191 
 
 of Mademoiselle Yalesca de Facino. As she was a brunette 
 of a very deep hue, I could only guess that she may be a 
 Spaniard. Miss E. Wynne sang the ' Bells of Aberdovey,' 
 accompanied by the Pencerdd (profanely styled Mr. John 
 Thomas) on the harp obbligato. We had also Swedish airs 
 by Mdlle. Nilsson, and airs Hongrois by Mdlle. lima de 
 Murska. They were very pretty, especially the Swedish, 
 but somehow only the Welsh gave me the idea of a really 
 national air. 
 
 " Through the delay which took place in my interest, 
 though there was no break, the concert was not over until 
 half-past twelve." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 22 May, 1869. 
 
 " Your precaution was superfluous. Notwithstanding 
 your incredulity, I returned here on Wednesday. But you 
 did not know that I was engaged to admit three candidates, 
 whose services were urgently needed, to a special ordina- 
 tion. This prevented me from accepting an invitation to 
 dine in Trinity College Hall on Tuesday, which is there 
 the great feast day of the year. But I enjoyed my short 
 visit to Cambridge very much indeed, and was never before, 
 since I went up as a freshman, so well pleased with the 
 place. I was royally entertained at Trinity Lodge, and on 
 Monday I went over all the new buildings at St. John's. 
 The chapel is quite a gem — as it well may be, having cost 
 £70,000. I heard doubts expressed — but every Johnian 
 would attribute them to envy — whether the college, being 
 a trustee, was quite justified in spending so large a sum on 
 * a toy.' I think I should have preferred laying it out to 
 get rid of the buildings Avith which the college was disfigured 
 by Rickman, and which now contrast harshly with both the 
 old, venerable, and really beautiful brickwork and with the 
 latest of Scott.
 
 192 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 " After this I performed one of the greatest pedestrian 
 feats on record. I set out at eleven to perambulate the 
 backs of the colleg-es, and make the circuit of Petty Cury 
 and Sydney Street, and so back to the point from which I 
 started. I executed this round, which at a gentle ordinary 
 pace might have taken half an hour, in three hours. I 
 flatter myself that it was the longest time in which the 
 distance was ever done ; for, with the exception of some 
 five minutes, I was all the time in as constant motion as 
 the hour-hand of a clock, and felt very much tired and 
 footsore at the end. But after a little rest I sallied forth 
 again to complete my survey of the colleges " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 28 May, 1869. 
 
 " I have sent you the most palpable fruit of my visit to 
 Cambridge, in my Whit-Sunday sermon, which will be very 
 proper reading for you on Sunday, to fill up any vacant 
 half-hour. It is, as you will see, not wholly unconnected 
 with the subject of Huxley's article. I do not know 
 whether I told you that, in order to read it again, I sent 
 for the number of the Fortnightly. But I could not find 
 leisure for the reading in London, and, perhaps, never 
 should if you had not repeated your question, which 
 forced me to take it up, and read it more attentively than 
 I had the first time. 
 
 " I found that I had something to retract, and that I 
 must have spoken of it u]3on the impression made by the 
 first part, without taking sufficient account of that which 
 appears to be said in an oj)posite sense in the latter part. 
 As he himself expressly repudiates the ' materialistic philo- 
 sophy,' it would be foolish and unjust to charge him with 
 that which he reprobates as strongly as if he had been in 
 the pulpit. Nor do I say that it is his fault if the article
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 193 
 
 is not quite satisfactory, and leaves one in a little doubt 
 about his dernier mot. But it does seem to me rather 
 like a couplet which does not rhyme. He admits that he 
 has begun by landing in a ' crass materialism.' And the 
 way in which he extricates himself and the reader from 
 this slough seems to be by showing that after all it is only 
 a question of terminology, and that the materialistic has 
 the advantage of being the most convenient. This may 
 be quite true, but I do not find that it neutralises the 
 effect of the preceding deduction. 
 
 " His criticism on the Archbishop of York seems to me 
 quite just ; but I am not sure what range of subjects he 
 would include in his description of ' lunar politics.' .... 
 
 " What can you have heard about the state of ? I 
 
 do not know anything lamentable in it, except that people 
 cannot quite agree about what is best for it. But might 
 you not say the same thing about the state of the nation, 
 as long as there are political parties, to whom the one's 
 meat is the other's poison ? And yet does any one really 
 lament that we are not all of one mind, and that variance 
 of opinion is the condition of progress ? Take comfort." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 8 June, 1869. 
 
 " .... I quite agree with Professor Blackie that 
 the English way of reading Greek differs very widely 
 indeed from the original pronunciation ; but that it is 
 much more faithfully represented by his own, or any other, 
 I am not so sure. The mode in which accent was com- 
 bined with quantity has always been to me a puzzle, 
 though I had the advantage of hearing Greek read at 
 Berlin by the great Professor Boeckli, who was probably the 
 highest authority on the subject. 
 
 " I am rather jealous of Mrs. P , whose letter I
 
 194 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 return. If I had not seen it I should not have known 
 that you are a Neo-druidess. But now that I have, 
 through her, learned the fact, I have not the least notion 
 what a Neo-druidess is. Can you tell me without divulg- 
 ing sacred mysteries ? . . . . Pray do not say any more 
 about the publication of my sermons. I have already 
 j^rinted more than I ought on various special occasions. 
 
 The town has been alarmed by reports that the House 
 of Lords had gone out of its mind. The accounts this 
 morning are a little reassuring, but its exact condition 
 seems still doubtful. We have had a few days of Nea- 
 politan weather, and I have been suffering from heat, but 
 still more from j/oaTaXyUi, thinking how I should enjoy 
 Abergwili, where I was shivering all the time I spent there 
 last month, ^atpe 0(\TaT}/ " 
 
 1, Eegent Street, 21 June, 1869. 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for the sight of Mr. 
 Sartoris' letter ; none of the compliments I have received 
 on my speech have gratified me so much. I must let you 
 into a little of the secret history of the speech. In con- 
 sequence of a cold in the throat I had rested very ill for 
 several nights before, and worst of all on the last, so that 
 having vainly attempted to get a doze in my chair, which, 
 if it had been only for a few minutes, would have done 
 me infinite good, I went down to the House with my 
 brains all seething and muddled, and, though I kept myself 
 up by a spasmodic effort, the effect was that I forgot 
 several things which I had intended to say, and which, 
 Avhen they recurred to my mind too late, annoyed me 
 more than you can easily conceive. 
 
 " This, however, was not the worst misery. Another 
 arose out of my good fortune itself. You will have
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 195 
 
 observed that there were frequent ' cheers.' These, though 
 highly encouraging, often drowned my voice at the end 
 of a sentence, and thus prevented even the Times reporter 
 from catching it, and thus some things were omitted, 
 and the place of others supplied by mere guess. This 
 has caused serious misunderstanding of some points in 
 which accuracy of expression was particularly necessary, 
 and I have thus been induced to have it reprinted in a 
 separate form Avhile the exact words I used were fresh in 
 'my memory, and I hope to be able to send you a copy of 
 the real speech before long. 
 
 " I am only just beginning to recover from the effects 
 of that last debate, during which I sat ten and a half hours 
 without a minute's interruption. But as I walked home 
 between three and four I was rewarded by the exquisite 
 beauty of the morning as it dawned on the sleeping city. 
 It was just such a one as that which was the occasion of 
 "Wordsworth's sonnet ending with the line (I think) — 
 
 ' And all that mighty heart was Ij'ing ^r) still.' " 
 
 Aeergwili Palace, 13 Jul;/, 1869. 
 
 " . . . . Now I must proceed to satisfy your curiosity. 
 The Saturday before I left town will always live in my 
 memory as the most agreeable day I ever sjDent in Loudon. 
 Indeed, I cannot remember any other which I found 
 uniformly pleasant. It began with a breakfast at Lord 
 Houghton's, where I sat by the Due d'Aumale, and had a 
 great deal of pleasant talk with him on a variety of sub- 
 jects — among them on Lanfrey, about whom, you may 
 easily imagine, we quite agreed. I only got aAvay in time 
 to be taken up by Mrs. Sartoris at one, and our conversa- 
 tion made me almost sorry to arrive at Manchester Square.
 
 196 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 She set it aflow by the question whether I found the 
 delivery of a speech or a sermon the more exciting. You 
 will know that it must be the speech. A sermon never 
 makes the preacher undergo ' agonies ' before he mounts 
 the pulpit. But this led to all manner of stories about 
 
 preachers She told me that she had once gone to 
 
 the Hanover Square Rooms to hear le Pere Ravignan; but 
 when she got there, and found herself invited to enter a 
 box to hear him preach on the same platform where she 
 had so often sung, she could not stand the thought, but 
 went away. 
 
 " I need not speak of the pictures. The ' Rainbow 
 Landscape,' the masterpiece of all Rubens' landscapes, is 
 one of its gems. There is also a great Vandervelde, a sea 
 piece, which is Lord Hertford's favourite. It is rich in 
 the Flemish and Spanish schools, and in Sir Joshua's and 
 Gainsborough's. There is hardly anything Italian but 
 Canalettos. I dare say Lord Hertford is hardly able to 
 enjoy the great Italian masters. Before we parted Mrs. 
 Sartoris asked me whether I cared for music, and, on my 
 answer in the affirmative, invited me to her evening party. 
 " So ended Act ii. You would never guess the scene of 
 Act iii., so I must tell you. I deliberately drove to West- 
 minster Bridge, and thence walked along the Thames 
 Embankment, eastward, to the end at the Temple. The 
 day was brilliant, and the heat tempered by a pleasant 
 breeze. I never had a more enjoyable walk, and have no 
 hesitation in saying that, on the whole, I prefer it for 
 picturesque effect to the Quais at Paris. There is nothing 
 on the Seine comparable to the perspective of the bridges 
 on the Thames. I then ascended to the Temple, and 
 rambled almost in solitude over my old haunts in its 
 courts and gardens, observing sundry additions of new 
 and good architecture, and also glad to see that the 
 Benchers had enclosed the greater part of their garden
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 197 
 
 as a playgronntl for the poor boys of the neighbourhood. 
 I then emerged, needing rest, at Temple Bar, and went 
 home in a hansom 
 
 " The scene changes in Act iv. to Park Place, St. James's 
 Square, where I found rather a large than a very small 
 party. I did not, however, hear Mrs. Sartoris sing. 
 
 " The musical performance was confined to an Italian 
 gentleman and a young Englishwoman. He sang Spanish 
 as well as Italian pieces. The Italian, as I was told, was 
 old music of a master named Lotti, whose name I never 
 heard before. It was all very choice. The curtain dropped 
 (for me) between eleven and twelve. 
 
 " Now I pass to domestic matters, and you must pre- 
 pare yourself for some melancholy tidings. I have not yet 
 seen the Tycoon,"^' and, what is worst, I do not feel at all 
 sure that I ever shall see him. You may remember I had 
 misgivings about his reception, and my fears have been 
 sadly realised. It seems that his Western rival would not 
 tolerate his presence, but put him to flight, and he was 
 seen as an outcast at Clystanog, exposed to all manner of 
 dangers. 
 
 " The victor took possession of his consort, who, I am 
 ashamed to say, attached herself to him as if she had 
 never seen the Tycoon. Even if it is known whereabouts 
 he is, it is doubtful whether he will ever let himself be 
 caught " 
 
 10 Aug., 1869. 
 
 " .... I have only one thing beside to tell you Mhich 
 you will be glad to hear. The Tycoon has reappeared. I 
 did not see him for a long time after, or suspect that he 
 had found his Avay back. But it seems that he did so 
 very soon. And the next morning he and his rival had 
 
 * A Japanese peacock, given to Bishop Thirlwall by the sister of his 
 correspondent.
 
 198 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 ' a regular pitched battle,' since which they have lived 
 peaceably together. I also learn that the old peahen 
 has a peachick, so that in this respect my affairs are 
 flourishing " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 2 Sept., 1869. 
 
 " . . . . Did you ever study a Bill in Chancery ? If — 
 as is quite possible — you never did, you may not be aware 
 that it is a document in which, in the midst of a wilder- 
 ness of rigmarole, there is a little oasis called The Charg- 
 ing Part, in which is summed up in a few lines the pith 
 of the whole matter. Possibly also you do not know that 
 the once greatest of all Chancery lawyers, known to the 
 initiated by the name of Jockey Bell, was also the most 
 voracious of novel-readers. When he was asked by a 
 friend how he managed to spare time for so many works 
 of three volumes each, the Jockey replied, ' I always make 
 at once for the Charging Part.' 
 
 " Now of what is this apropos ? It is apropos of the 
 letter which I return, in which I have vainly endeavoured 
 to get at the Charging Part, or, in fact, to guess what it 
 drives at. In consequence of my total ignorance of the 
 matters to which it alludes, there are parts which I cannot 
 
 very clearly make out 
 
 " I return the photograph, glad to see such a good- 
 looking royal couple. Was it not provoking that the 
 Harvard crew should be so much better-looking fellows 
 (Illustrated Neius) than their conquerors ? I also return 
 M. de Gaulle's letter. The Welsh seems to me on the 
 whole very nice, though I fancied there were here and 
 there some very little things which betray the foreigner. 
 
 " Is not his translation of the territorial de a mistake ? 
 It is as if we should say Ernest of Bunsen, which would 
 be still worse than that which the Times, not I think
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEXD. 199 
 
 unjustly, finds singular — that he should take the style of 
 a French nobleman. 
 
 " You are quite naistaken about my ' influence ' being 
 ' generally pre-engaged.' It "j^never is so, as I make it au 
 invariable rule not to pledge my vote or ' interest ' to any 
 candidate for a charity until I have seen the polling 
 paper " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 23 Sept., 1869. 
 
 " I have had Dr. Meyer here since Monday. I believe 
 that on Saturday he proceeds to Llanover. He is more 
 wonderful than ever. It is impossible to touch on any 
 subject on which he does not pour a stream not only of 
 the most recondite and exquisite learning, but of the most 
 original ideas. In the evening he treats us with the 
 choicest Welsh, German, and Spanish songs, accompany- 
 ing himself on the piano. He is now at work on the 
 Gododin, and is prepared to show that the battle is an 
 astronomical allegory. I wish very much you could meet 
 
 him He believes in the possibility of a Celtic 
 
 migration reaching to Central America Lady 
 
 Minto's ' Life of Elliot ' I only know from an article in 
 the Revue des deux Mondes, which I believe gives the 
 cream of the story, and speaks very favourably of it. Of 
 the ' Lady of Latham ' and the ' Life of Rossini ' I know 
 nothing, and have no time to read anything. The arrears 
 I have to make up almost break down my table. 
 
 " Tau Coronge ""' you must remember has not been anni- 
 
 * " 11 Sept., 1869. AVTiat happened to Tau Coronfel^as this. T. C. had 
 been a very quiet, obscure, unobtrusive star, of perhaps the third or fourth 
 magnitude. All of a sudden he was observed to brighten into the most con- 
 spicuous of the group. The astronomers then found out that he had been 
 sending out a mass of incandescent vapour, which must have raised the 
 temperatui-e of every member of his system subject to his influence 780 
 times. You understand that if our sun was to blaze out in like mannei- our
 
 200 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 hilated, only disorganized. I do not know that it has lost 
 any weight, so as to affect its relations to foreign systems. 
 The only difference is, that the matter which had been 
 concentrated in its satellites, is now diffused throughout 
 the space in which they moved. It is a change from 
 oHgarchy to a fierce democracy. 
 
 " Dr. Meyer says that Jupiter, which was once supposed 
 to he a globe of water, is now believed to be a ball of fire. 
 He also comforts us with a new theory, which makes the 
 sun to be constantly supplied with fresh heat by the 
 electricity of its own planets, as the sea by the rivers, 
 which are themselves fed by the sea. According to this 
 it may last for ever. The great Professor D5ve, of Berlin, 
 holds this view. 
 
 " My Charge is to me a very sore subject. Most un- 
 fortunately for me, before it can be delivered it must be 
 written. Still if it would but write itself in the night, 
 while I am asleep, I should do very well. But I have to 
 write it myself, as I can find time, in the day. I cannot 
 write at night. Of all the Charges I have delivered, none 
 has required more careful and leisurely thought. And it 
 has so happened that the time which I should have allotted 
 to it has been occupied by all manner of distracting 
 engagements, as if the course of things had been ordered 
 for that end." 
 
 16 Kov., 1869. 
 
 " , . . . You must not let yourself think so ill of your 
 friends as to imagine that the charm which attracts them 
 to you now, depends upon the freshness of youth 
 
 globe would be dissolved into gas, and you will remember that lie has been 
 lately in a state of great excitement, though hitherto his discharges of incan- 
 descent hydrogen have only reached a height of 10,000 miles. But they may 
 be only a prelude to some more serious eruption "
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 201 
 
 That which those who are worthy of your friendship vakie 
 in you is something more solid and durable — the qualities 
 of your mind and heart, which are not impaired, rather 
 improved, by the lapse of time. Their cultivation and 
 exercise, which need not cease but with the last; pulse of 
 life, will, if you only trust them, preserve you from the 
 sense of loneliness, as thev cannot exist without beingf 
 seen and felt, and they cannot be seen and felt without 
 awakening sympathy. 
 
 " The decline of life can never know again the freshness 
 of the spring, but it may have its Indian summer, even 
 more delicious in its deep calm, its magical colouring, and 
 its mysterious loveliness. Such a season is, I hope, 
 reserved for you." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 17 Nov., 1869. 
 
 " .... I have been dipping into ' L' Homme qui rit." 
 Who he is I do not yet know, except that he is every reader 
 of the book capable of enjoying the author's blunders. They 
 all spring out of the insatiable vanity of a man who, not 
 content with being a poet, must pass for a man of universal 
 learning; e.g. ' Le Basque et I'lrlandais se comprennent, ils 
 parlent le vieux jargon punique.' I dare say you know 
 that it would be difficult to name any three languages more 
 wide apart from one another. He had heard of the Non- 
 jurors, and pretends to have read an entry made ' Sur les 
 marges de la vieille bible de la Chapelle presbyterienne des 
 Non Jurors de Londres.' Then can you guess what part 
 of the world he alludes to in speaking of a rosary which 
 was ' facile a reconnaitre pour un rosaire irlandais de 
 Llanymthefry, qu'on appelle aussi Llanandeffry ' ? 
 
 " In his descriptions he has almost out-Yictor-Hugoed 
 himself. Only so great, though perversely abused, a talent
 
 202 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 could have made them endurable In the absence 
 
 of news of the day, perhaps you would like to see a 
 Slavonic Christmas Carol, which gives an account of the 
 Creation of the World. 
 
 * Before the world began, 
 Was neither Heaven nor Earth, 
 Only blue sea, 
 
 And in the midst of the sea two oaks. 
 On them perched two pigeons, 
 Began to hold counsel together, 
 To hold counsel, and to coo : 
 However are we to found a world ? 
 Let us dive to the bottom, of the sea, 
 Bring up fine sand. 
 Fine sand, golden pebbles. 
 That fine sand let us sow. 
 The golden pebbles let us blow, 
 Of the fine sand will come a little Earth, 
 A black Kttle Earth, green grass : 
 Of the golden pebbles a bright sun. 
 Bright sun, clear moon, 
 Clear moon, wee stars ' " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 29 Nov., 1869. 
 
 " .... I do not know how to repay you for so many 
 legends without going back to very ancient times indeed. 
 You did not tell me what you thought of my Slavonic 
 Christmas Carol. I must try once more whether you can 
 relish another myth from the same source. 
 
 " On the Creation of the World. 
 
 " Once there was nought but heaven above and water 
 below. And God sailed upon the water, and saw a lump 
 of hard foam, on which sat Nick. ' Who art thou ? ' asked 
 God. ' I shall not tell,' said Nick, ' unless you take me 
 into your boat.' To that God consented, and the other 
 said, ' I am Nick.' And they went together, both silent,
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 203 
 
 until at last Nick spoke. ' 'Twould be well if there was 
 some firm land.' ' Be it so,' said God. ' Dive to the bottom 
 of the sea and bring up a handful of sand, I will make firm 
 land of it. But when you bring the sand say, I bring the 
 in God's name.' Nick immediately dived and took up sanC^ 
 in both hands from the bottom of the sea, but said nothing 
 as he did so ; and when he came up again to the top o^ 
 the water he had nothing in his hands. God, seeing how 
 matters stood, sent him down again to the sea floor. Nick 
 dived, and, as he scooped out the sand, said, ' I bring thee 
 in God's name.' When, however, he came up to the surface 
 he had no more sand than what was left under his nail. 
 God took that sand, scattered it on the water, and there- 
 with made firm land. 
 
 "According to another version, when Old Nick dived 
 the second time, and spoke as God commanded, he would 
 have some of it for himself; so he put some of the sand 
 into his own mouth and gave God the rest. God strewed 
 that sand on the water, saying, ' Let the earth increase 
 and grow.' And out of that grew three parts of the world ; 
 but the handful in the devil's mouth also began to grow 
 till his cheek swelled, and do what he would he could not 
 get rid of it until God helped him. Then, however, the 
 devil spluttered all he had hidden upon the face of the 
 earth, and of that were formed swamps, deserts, and barren 
 places. 
 
 " Another. 
 
 " When as yet there was neither heaven nor earth there 
 was only the lake of Tiberias, but without any shore, and 
 the Lord came down from the sky on the lake of Tiberias, 
 and on the lake he beheld a duck swimming. Now that 
 duck was Satanael, and sprang from the sea foam. And 
 the Lord said to Satanael, ' And who art thou, that thou 
 

 
 204 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 knowest me not ? ' And Satanael answered, ' I am a god.' 
 ' And what dost take me for ?' again asked the Lord. And 
 Satanael said, ' Thou art God of gods and Lord of lords.' 
 And God ordered the duck to dive to the bottom of the 
 sea, saying, ' Bring me up earth, sand, and flints.' And 
 Satan brought them up accordingly, and the Lord took 
 the earth and sprinkled it on the sea of Tiberias, and 
 there was a spacious tract of firm land on the water. 
 After that he took a flint from Satanael and brake it in 
 two, and half the Lord kept in his own right hand and 
 half he put into Satanael' s left. And the Lord took the 
 sand and began with it to strike the flint, saying, ' From 
 this flint fly out angels and archangels after my image 
 and likeness, strong and without body.' And sparks of fire 
 began to issue from the flint, and the Lord created angels 
 and archangels, all the nine orders. And Satanael seeing 
 what the Lord had created began to do the same, and from 
 his left hand his angels began to fly forth ; and Satanael 
 created a great host of his angelic orders. 
 " {To he continued.)" 
 
 " (Suite.) 
 
 " When the devils revolted and fell to the earth they 
 took the sun with them ; and the king of the devils spiked 
 it with his spear and carried it on his shoulders. But 
 when the earth besought God that it might be warmed by 
 the sun, God sent an archangel to try and recover the sun 
 from the devil. The holy archangel descended upon earth 
 and joined company with the king of the devils, but he 
 guessed what his friend was after and kept on his guard. 
 As they walked over the earth they came to the seaside, 
 and had a mind to bathe, and the devil struck his spear 
 with the sun into the ground. When they had bathed
 
 LETTERS TO A FEIEND. 205 
 
 awhile the archangel said, ' Let us dive to sec which can 
 go deepest.' And the devil said, ' Dive, then.' And the 
 archangel dived and brought up some of the sea-sand in 
 his teeth. 
 
 " Then it was the devil's turn, but he was afraid that 
 the archangel in the meantime would carry off the sun ; so 
 he spat on the ground, and of the spittle was formed a 
 magpie, whom he charged to look to the sun until he 
 should come up with some of the sea-sand in his teeth. 
 But as soon as the devil had dived the archangel made a 
 cross over the sea, and there was formed upon it ice nine 
 cubits thick. Then he seized the sun and flew up with it 
 to heaven. Thereupon the magpie began to chatter. When 
 the devil heard the voice of the magpie he knew what had 
 hapj)ened, and that he must hasten upwards with all speed. 
 But there he sees the sea covered with ice, and that he 
 cannot get out. So returning without delay to the bottom 
 of the sea, he took a stone, and with it broke the ice, and 
 in a -moment was after the archangel. And just as the 
 archangel had set one foot in heaven the devil reached 
 him, and with his claws tore away a great piece of flesh 
 from the sole of the other foot. The archangel having 
 come wounded, but with the sun, into the presence of 
 God, broke out into wailing, ' What am I to do. Lord, so 
 disfigured ? ' And God said, ' I will decree that everybody 
 shall have a hollow under his feet like you.' And there 
 was formed a little cavity under everybody's feet ; and so 
 it continues to this day, 2nd December, 1869." 
 
 AnERGWiLi Palace, 7 Bee., 1869. 
 
 " This shortening of the days is very adverse to corre- 
 spondence, and indeed to all intellectual operations. 
 Unless I entirely renounce the society of my geese, at 
 
 o2
 
 206 BISHOP thihlwall's 
 
 the very season when they most appreciate my visits and 
 express their welcome most loudly, I must leave my desk 
 before post-time, and, when I return, I find that night has 
 set in upon Chaos, and I can discern nothing beyond the 
 narrow illumination of my lamp. I must therefore write 
 to you through the winter by hurried snatches. 
 
 " Though I say it that should not say it, the Slavonic 
 myths are very precious. They exhibit the state of belief 
 among the Slavonic tribes in the ^Jeriod when the Slavonic 
 heathenism was just making way for Christianity and 
 blending with it. 
 
 " The basis of the myths is Pagan, the form only 
 Christian. As to their date in the semi-Christian form, 
 I know nothing. I should not have known of their 
 existence but for the accident of my belonging to an 
 association formed at Prague for the cultivation of the 
 Bohemian language and literature, from which, having 
 many years ago compounded for the annual subscription, 
 I have received a considerable number of Bohemian books, 
 among them a journal containing papers read before the 
 society, and it was in one of these that I found our myths. 
 
 "Their origin, of course, goes back to very remote 
 times indeed. But as Christianity was introduced among 
 the Slavonic tribes in the ninth century, one may, perhaps, 
 in a rough way, refer the myths to that date. They 
 clearly indicate a belief in a good and evil principle. 
 This duality comes out in a little variation which runs 
 thus (the evil one, you remember, created a host of his 
 own out of the flints) : Then he thought in his heart, I 
 will make me a throne in the clouds, and shall be a peer 
 of the Most High, that my hierarchy may honour me. 
 So he made him a throne in the clouds of the north, and 
 exalted himself, and became prince of his own angelic 
 host. And the Lord, seeing in him an adversary, sent 
 Michael to cast him down. Michael came to Satan ael,
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 207 
 
 hut seeing in him great divinity did not venture to face 
 him, and returned to God, and said, ' Lord, thy divinity 
 is great in him.' And the Lord took his divinity from 
 him, and said, ' Go, and cast him down.' Then Michael 
 went and smote Satanael with his staff, and cast him 
 down with all his evil host, and they were three days and 
 three nisrhts fallinsr to the earth, like a shower of hail- 
 stones. By some tribes the two warring powers were 
 called Belhuh and Tchernobut — the White God and the 
 Black God. 
 
 " But they were not abstract principles. Each was the 
 sun at the opposite periods of his apparent course. As 
 the winter sun seems to sink nearest to the earth, he 
 brings up sand from the bottom of the sea, and spreads 
 it over the earth in the shajie of ice and snow, which his 
 antagonist, as he rises to the ascendant, melts away. 
 
 " My author does not explain the two oaks and the 
 two doves. I am afraid that your interpretation does 
 too much credit to the philosophy of the heathen 
 Slaves " 
 
 Abekowili Palace, 21 Dec, 1869. 
 
 " . . . . Your remark on the Slavonic myth does 
 great credit to your acuteness. I was myself very much 
 struck, — I may say surprised, by the epithet bodiless, and 
 especially in combination Avith strong. The idea of force 
 without body seemed too philosophical for such a stage of 
 society ; and I think it must have a remoter origin. But 
 I do not know that there is any inconsistency between it 
 and the diving archangel. You have only to suppose — 
 if you can conceive that which is without body foiling to 
 the ground — that when the angels reached the earth they 
 took body.
 
 208 • BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 " I suppose you know that the continuation of the 
 ' Earthly Paradise ' is out. I have it, hut have not yet 
 been able to begin it. 
 
 " I am in Froude's eleventh volume, which you cannot 
 lay down when you have once taken it up. It is only 
 disagreeable to find Elizabeth growing more and more 
 
 odious at every page of her history This shortest 
 
 day has been still shortened, as they would say over the 
 Channel, by fog and incessant rain. I long to be out 
 of it." 
 
 AiiERGWiLi Palace, 27 Dec, 1869. 
 
 " .... As you have not heard about the ' Earthly 
 Paradise,' it seems quite possible that you are not yet 
 aware of Miss Clark .... having come out in full blossom 
 as an authoress. Three days ago I received the agreeable 
 surprise of a beautiful volume, resj)lendent with green and 
 gold, entitled, ' The Lost Legends of the Nursery Songs," 
 by Mary Senior Clark, illustrated from the author's 
 designs. It seems that she had written them for the 
 amusement of her orphan nieces. But one or two had 
 found their way into Aunt Judys Magazine, where they 
 were seen and coveted by Bell and Dald}^ who offered to 
 jjublish them as a Christmas volume. The stories are 
 told with great simplicity and quiet humour. It seems 
 that the Spectator was taken in by the title, and fancied 
 that they were not the pure offspring of imagination, but 
 results of research."" Though I have only just opened 
 the new part of the ' Earthly Paradise,' I feel sure that 
 you need be in no fear of disappointment. Morris is one 
 of those poets who will always be true to themselves, I 
 
 * " It is Anita who wrote the ' History of the Swallow.' .... 8hc has a 
 vein of very pleasant, simple humour." 10 Aug., 1869.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 209 
 
 am not certain whether you have read his ' Jason.' By- 
 the-bye, you do not mention Tennyson's ' Holy Grail,' 
 which I am expecting daily. Your silence on such an 
 event makes me suspect that this too is new to you. 
 If you have read little or nothing of Froude, but mean 
 to read him, you have before you occupation for a prett}^ 
 long time. If the same had been the case with me, either 
 as to this, or to Kinglake's ' Crimean War,' or Thiers' s 
 ' Histoire du Consulat et I'Empire,' I doubt whether I should 
 ever have had courage to attack them. So it is that I 
 have only read parts of M. Martin's excellent great work. 
 
 " If you ever made an idol of Queen Elizabeth, I hardly 
 know whether it would be safe for you to read the six 
 volumes of her reign, unless 3^ou are prepared to see the 
 idol broken to pieces. But, if you do, I think you will 
 never again call her ' strong- wise.' 'Strong' indeed she 
 was, in the force of a capricious feminine will, which Avould 
 endure no contradiction ; ' wise ' only in a narrow short- 
 sighted cunning, which was constantly overreaching itself 
 and defeating its own objects. It may be said that she 
 was wise enough to choose able counsellors. And this 
 would have been a merit if she had not almost uniformly 
 rejected their advice, and forced them to become the 
 unwilling instruments of her selfish folly. 
 
 " It will not cost me much time to let you know what 
 I think of Goethe's character. He had none for anybody 
 to think about. He was never in earnest about anything 
 but art and some scientific speculations which were 
 suggested to him by his poetical view of nature. But as 
 for any practical interests of humanity — morals, politics, 
 or religion — he played about them like a bee, only to take 
 in honey for his art-cell. 
 
 " You are quite right about the German origin of 
 Matthew Arnold's ' Philistines,' and also have formed a very 
 correct conception of their nature. I am not sure that
 
 210 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 
 
 in most cases it might not be sufficiently expressed by 
 Pedantry, as an abstract term, divested of the Academical 
 associations. But you seem to have overlooked the real 
 puzzle, which is how and why the name of Philistines was 
 applied to this class of people. Why should a Jena shop- 
 keeper suggest the idea of a countryman of Goliath ? 
 
 " Is it because the giant came out in full armour, and 
 with all the regular systematic appliances of warfare, to 
 be knocked on the head by a stone of the brook from the 
 sling of a shepherd-boy ? Here it is time for me to 
 
 stop The room left is quite insufficient for my good 
 
 wishes to yourself, father, and sister. But a folio sheet 
 would be equally so without the interpretation which you 
 will give to this."
 
 1870.
 
 Abergwili Palace, New Year's Day, 1870. 
 
 " . . . . What an odd idea that was of yours to com- 
 plain of Froude for making Queen Elizabeth disagreeable, 
 as if he was writing a romance, and at liberty to make her 
 say and do what he would. Has it occurred to you that 
 it is not at all necessary that you should go through the 
 whole work ? I would have you send for the last two 
 volumes, which are certainly the most interesting of all. 
 In some of the earlier her incessant wavering becomes 
 almost intolerable, and the events are not of the same 
 magnitude. The great moral which I read in the whole 
 is the evil of personal government. If Elizabeth had been 
 subject to constitutional restraints she would not have 
 been a better woman, but she would have been a better 
 queen. Poor dear Burgon is one of those excellent men 
 with whom intolerance is at once an impulse and a duty, 
 who could not be tolerant if they would, and would not 
 if they could, and he is not a rare specimen of the 
 class " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 11 Jan., 1870. 
 
 " . . . . What has led you to put your question about 
 Froude in such a shape ? ' Is he fair ? ' My question 
 would be, ' What reason is there to suspect him of being 
 unfair ? ' I know absolutely of none, except it be that he
 
 214 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 has made up his mind very decidedly on sundry historical 
 questions as to which opinions have been divided. But 
 when a man takes the trouble to study the original docu- 
 ments which contain the history of the period he writes 
 about, and fortifies every assertion that he makes by the 
 very words of the most authentic witnesses, it seems 
 rather hard that he should be charged with unfairness 
 because he accepts that which he finds. With regard to 
 the character of Elizabeth, I do not believe there will ever 
 again be much doubt among impartial judges. Mary, as 
 labouring under far graver charges, will probably for a 
 time continue to find advocates, as one has very recently 
 appeared to defend her against that of having been privy 
 to the murder of Darnley. But he seems to have satisfied 
 no one but himself Whether the public safety required 
 Mary's execution — and the fault of Elizabeth was the let- 
 ting her live so long — is one of those questions which will 
 never cease to afford subject for discussion. 
 
 " I return your correspondent's letter. The whole dis- 
 cussion seems to me very strange. Why in the world 
 should you grudge Menu or Confucius the credit of having 
 made some very good observations on things which would 
 help men to live more comfortably together ? I know of 
 no reason for supposing that the writings of either were 
 interpolated with Christian sentiments. But as little do 
 I understand why your correspondent, wishing to show 
 that our Lord had been 'anticipated' in his moral doc- 
 trine, should have taken you to India or China. Was 
 he not ' anticipated ' by Moses ? And does he seem to 
 have piqued himself upon his originality ? Was not his 
 question, ' What readest thou ? ' If the Ten Command- 
 ments did not make him jealous, why should he fear 
 the Ten Virtues of Menu ? But what are we to say to 
 the Greek and Roman ethical systems ? Was there 
 nothing in them that he would have approved of? Was'
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 215 
 
 everything wrong in the Twelve Tallies ? What is the 
 theory of human nature we are starting from ? Is it 
 the ultra-Calvinistic doctrine tliat, in consequence of the 
 Fall, mankind had lost all power of discerning between 
 moral good and evil, so that the heathen moralists could 
 teach nothing but what was false and wrong ? The idea 
 of pitting Christ against Menu or Confucius, as a law- 
 giver or philosopher, seems to me to imply so total a 
 misconception of the whole subject, that I do not know 
 how to deal with it. When you abstract from the divine 
 personality and the animating principle, what is left will 
 be no better than dry leaves or stone tablets, and it will 
 not signify much with what characters they are inscribed. 
 "Pray do not begin to talk about primroses or spring. 
 It is the sure way to bring upon us that dreadful frost 
 with which we have been threatened, but have hitherto 
 escaped." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 25 Jan., 1870. 
 
 " .... I think there seems to be no doubt that Basil 
 Jones is to have St. Asaph. I consider it an excellent 
 aj)pointment. It is stated as a fwit accom'pli by the 
 Spectator, and as a most lucky hit of Gladstone's. 
 
 " . . . . Sir George Bowyer apparently believes that 
 real is common to French and English in the same sense. 
 Real might mean royal, only that it is not the French or 
 Provencal, but the Spanish and Italian form. Of the 
 meaning of the variously spelt Grail, Sir George appears 
 never to have heard. Or of the Sacro Catino. I have a 
 Guide to Genoa, which accurately describes the emerald 
 vase shown in the sacristy of S. Lorenzo, and gives a plate 
 of it. It is an hexagonal open vessel, very narrow at the 
 base. When Sir George says that the ' vessel ' of the
 
 216 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 legend ' was undoubtedly the chalice,' he contradicts him- 
 self, for according to his etymology no vessel at all is 
 ' alluded to ' in the name. Among scholars there is, I 
 believe, perfect unanimity on this question. The authority 
 of Littr^ would, to those who know his work, be suffi- 
 cient ; but it is confirmed by that of Diez, who devotes a 
 page of his ' Lexicon of the Romance Languages ' to the 
 word Graal, which he explains in the same way as Littrd. 
 He observes (I translate his German), 'Saint Graal, the 
 origin of which from 8ang Royal is refuted by the 
 Provencal forms, is in the epic i^oems the dish out of 
 which Christ partook of the Last Supper with his dis- 
 ciples " 
 
 Jan., 1870. 
 
 " . . . . The only reason that at present occurs to me 
 as one which may have governed Tennyson's spelling of 
 Holy Orail is that he wished to mark the pronunciation. 
 It is, however, possible that he also meant to warn the 
 reader against the false etymology into which, I see, you 
 have fallen. Nothing, I believe, is more certain than 
 that the name has nothing to do with sang, either real or 
 royal. Indeed, if you only reflect for a moment on the 
 wildness of a quest after a liquid, I think you will see 
 that this etymology is out of the question. Littrd gives 
 the true one: 'Provenc, grasal, grazal, grazans ; anc. 
 Catal., gresal ; anc. Espagn., grial ; Bas Latin, gradalis, 
 gradalus, " sorte de vase, origine inconnue." ' There never 
 has been any doubt that it was the name of a vessel. Did 
 not you know that it was brought from the Holy Land to 
 Genoa, where it is still showm under the name of il sacro 
 catino, and by persons not in the secret believed to be f 
 single emerald, being in fact a piece of green glass ?...."
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 217 
 
 1, Regent Street, 12 Feb., 1870. 
 
 " . . . . I am much obliged to you for the sight of Mrs. 
 Williams's letter. It is very sad to think that such a 
 union should have been so short-lived. It is a comfort to 
 me to reflect that my intentions towards him were always 
 most sincerely friendly, and that the breach between us 
 was caused by a strange misapprehension on his part ; while 
 the immediate occasion of his attack on me was a charge 
 
 which so offended Archdeacon , that he absented 
 
 himself from the visitation dinner on the express ground 
 that I ' had thrown my shield over Rowland Williams.' 
 Poor fellow ! he had the defauts of some of his qualites, 
 and the irritability which usually accompanies a very fine 
 organization. The only verses of his I have seen are the 
 ' Lays of the Cymric Lyre.'''' 
 
 "I do not know the ' Voyage Adrien.' I wish you had 
 said whose it is. The title indicates a French author, but 
 one would have preferred Glaisher's account of his own 
 adventures. 
 
 " Is not a speech which is sent to be delivered by one 
 who does not speak in his own name proj)erly called a 
 Message ? This, however, was not the official description 
 of that which was read last Tuesday. It was still called 
 ' Her Majesty's most gracious Speech;' nor was I aware 
 that it had been called a Message by any one. 
 
 " I do not knoAV anything of Ruskin's ' Queen of the 
 Air,' having, I am ashamed to say, forgotten what you told 
 me of her. But if she is still reigning I am not at all 
 satisfied with her government, and her temper must be 
 more like that of Queen Bess than ' Buddug yr Ail.' f You 
 know I warned you against provoking her by untimely 
 forestalments of spring. I have, however, myself reason 
 
 * " . . . Poor Rowland Williams, who was a man of real genius." 2 Feb., 1870. 
 t Boadicea (Victoria) II.
 
 218 BISHOP thielwall's 
 
 for compunction, as I am conscious of having allowed 
 myself to speak with levity of the predictions of a hard 
 winter, Avhich are now beginning to be realised with a 
 vengeance. I can only indulge a trembling hope that the 
 cold produced by the combination of frost and north-east 
 wind may have reached its utmost intensity yesterday 
 evening, when, as I sat close to a good fire, I could not 
 keep myself warm without throwing a heavy great-coat 
 over my knees. For persons who, as I hope is the case 
 with myself, have a touch of humanity in their nature, it 
 is a misery even to look out of the window and see theu' 
 fellow-creatures beating their breasts, inclining their heads 
 under the blast, and digging as deep as they can into their 
 (probably empty) pockets. We have had, by way of 
 variety, several snow showers, but not coming dow^n in 
 genial broad flakes, but in the form of frozen sleet, diuveii 
 about by the cruel wind. For one thing, however, I have 
 reason to be thankful, having hitherto taken no cold and 
 escaped the prevailing bronchitis." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 1 March, 1870. 
 
 " I have to thank you for a very pleasant remembrance, 
 which will abide with me as long as my memory lasts. 
 But for our chat of last week I should have known nothing 
 about the Exhibition at Burlington House. In consequence 
 of that, finding on Saturday that I had finished letters before 
 four, I started to see the pictures. I did not know until 
 I reached the door that it was the last day, though if I 
 had I do not think I could have gone sooner. The tide 
 of outgoers was so high, that I hoped I might find the 
 rooms nearly empty. Instead of that they were so densely 
 crowded that it was hard to stir, much more to get a sight 
 of a picture. An hour later one breathed and saw more
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 219 
 
 freely. But then the pictures began to be visible rather 
 by the light they gave out than by that they received. 
 Still I managed to see almost everything of any impor- 
 tance. Do you remember that Cuyp of Lord Bute's ? The 
 first picture I came near surj^rised me exceedingly. It was 
 my favourite ' Vierge des Rochers,' of which I have a print, 
 taken from one in the Louvre, which I had imagined unique. 
 Mr. Boxall afterwards informed me that there is much 
 question among connoisseurs how far either is a work of 
 Leonardo or of his scholars. It seems that he took too 
 much pains with his works to admit of the supposition 
 that he ever repeated himself. 
 
 " What a dismal prospect is opened by that article on 
 Geology in the Edmburgh ! It seems that we are between 
 two inevitable alternatives. Either we shall be put out of 
 our misery by a blow from the moon, or we shall be swal- 
 lowed up — moon and all — by the furnace of the sun. 
 That is to be the end of all the marvellous development of 
 this beautiful world and its population. But the same 
 fate awaits the sun, and, of course, every body that moves 
 throughout the universe. With all it is only a question 
 of time. And so the end of all is universal annihilation 
 and extinction of life. Then one is led to ask : How did 
 this little episode in the history of the universe begin ? 
 That is a thought to turn one giddy " 
 
 Abebgwili Palace, 17 March, 1870. 
 
 " I see that the article in the Edinburgh weighs upon 
 your spu-its, as well it may. Perhaps it may be a little 
 comfort to you to see a difi'erent, even though it be not in 
 itself a very cheerful, view taken of the subject. According 
 to the Edinhurgh we have before us a prospect — so certain 
 that it is only a question of time — of a period when people 
 
 P
 
 220 BISHOP thielwall's 
 
 will begin to frequent the Arctic circle as the only tolerable 
 climate on the face of the globe. I have been lately- 
 looking into a little French work, ' Le Soleil,' by one 
 Amdd^e Guillemin, which contains the results of almost all 
 the latest researches on the subject. His only fear is that 
 a time must come when the sun will have expended its 
 whole stock of heat and light, and leave the earth a gloomy 
 lifeless desert. As that calamity draws near, the Tropics 
 will be the only habitable region of the earth, and will only 
 grow some of the hardier cereals and orchards of crab- 
 apples. Guillemin, however, is kind enough to say that 
 the j^robability of such an event is very slight ; but he 
 does not give his reasons. It is, however, reasonable to 
 hope that our successors will not suffer both of these 
 calamities, and until we know which it is to be we may 
 suppose it not impossible that it may be neither. 
 
 " But I do not quite understand your theory of absorp- 
 tion as reconcilable with continued existence. Do you 
 know how Sir J. Herschel illustrates the heat of the sun ? 
 Take a lump of ice — a column measuring at the base 
 12,860,000 square feet, and 980,000,000 in height. It 
 would be melted in one second without at aU lowering the 
 temperature of the sun. If our earth ever falls into that 
 furnace it must be instantly dissolved into its primary 
 elements. The only chance I see for you is, that when 
 you have developed into a full angel you should become a 
 ' flame of fire.' Then you may find yourself at home in 
 the sun, disport yourself on the hydrogen mountain, ride 
 on the crest of the fiery billows, and play at hide and seek 
 in the caverns of the spots. How you will then enjoy the 
 sight of our clouds. When I read about these things I am 
 struck with a strange thought. Is there reason to believe 
 that among the millions of stars which are crowded in the 
 Milky Way, there is one better adapted for the habitation 
 of any creatures constituted like man than our sun ? You
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 221 
 
 know there is room in Sirius for ninety-four such. It seems 
 that none would be visible if it was not a sun, the centre of 
 a system ; so that if there are habitable worlds — I mean for 
 any creatures but flames of fire — they must be in the, to 
 us, invisible systems " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 23 April, 1870. 
 
 " .... I think that one of the most surprising mani- 
 festations of your poAvers is that which concerns myself 
 Having suft'used me with a roseate hue, emanating entirely 
 from your own nature, you have first persuaded yourself 
 that it belongs to mine, and then you set about convert- 
 ing other people to the belief that I am not the disagree- 
 able kind of 2)erson they had always supposed me to be. 
 
 " I have always been a believer in the blessedness of 
 self-sacrifice, though I have practised it so little myself ; 
 but I hope you will so husband yours that the greatest 
 possible number may be benefited by it. And I cannot 
 
 help wishing that you were enjoying the spring 
 
 How curious it is to see myths spring up like mushrooms 
 under one's feet. No bishop ever asked me what I 
 thought of Bishop Temjile's speech in Convocation, nor 
 did I ever apply the Latin quotation to him. How 
 instructive it would be if one could only trace one such 
 story as this to its origin, through all the intermediate 
 steps ! " 
 
 1, Regent Street, 6 3Iai/, 1870. 
 
 " I am so glad I was not a bystander at the duel. '"" I 
 should have made myself excessively unpopular and 
 
 * This refers to a discussion on Charles I., Cromwell, and Mary Queen of 
 Scots. 
 
 p 2
 
 222 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 disagreeable, for I must have let out that I thouglit both 
 parties in the wrong, or, which I believe is generally 
 still more offensive and provoking, both in the right. 
 
 " I should not like to pronounce peremptorily on a 
 matter which can be known only to the Searcher of 
 Hearts ; to all others only in the way of most uncertain 
 conjectural inference. At the same time one can hardly 
 help forming a judgment, though upon such imperfect 
 data. And I hava my own impression both as to the 
 man and the woman. But I must try to express it in the 
 fewest possible words. I can hardly do so without emitting 
 a paradox. 
 
 " I believe that Charles was quite in earnest in all the 
 convictions he professed as to his own divine rights, but 
 that this earnestness was just the cause of all his practical 
 duplicity. His end was in his eyes holy enough to 
 sanctify means in themselves wrong. But he was only 
 adopting a maxim which has governed the practice of 
 excellent and even holy men. 
 
 " You know — or maybe you do not know — how strenu- 
 ously St. Chrysostom insists on the (not right but) duty 
 of deceiving people for their good. Charles must not be 
 confounded with such men as Ferdinand IV. of Naples, 
 or Bomba of that ilk, or Ferdinand VII. of Spain. 
 
 "On the other hand, it seems impossible for any 
 impartial person, even if he has not read Carlyle, to 
 consider Cromwell as a Tartuffe. 
 
 " I firmly believe that his convictions were deep, and 
 his general aims high and pure. But of him also it may 
 be said that the intensity of his earnestness was the very 
 cause of his insincerity. He lived habitually in a state of 
 exaltation which could not be constantly sustained, and so 
 I am afraid he often fell into conventionality and self- 
 deception, which seem to be inseparable from fanaticism. 
 
 " Mary I believe to have been a bad heartless creature.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 223 
 
 quite capable of the worst that has ever been imputed to 
 lier ; but as to her actual share in the murder of Dnrnlcy, 
 though Froude has made it highly probable, I should not 
 like even to make up my mind without having read the 
 recent apologies, particularly Hossack's 
 
 " You should get the last MacTnillan, to read George 
 Eliot's ' Jubal ' and Huxley's ' Lecture to Christian Young 
 Men,' in which he wishes himself a clock that would 
 always go right. 
 
 " Should you like to be that ? " 
 
 1, Regent Street, 9 Mai/, 1870. 
 
 " . . . . Your remark on Huxley does not seem to 
 touch the point. I do not think that it is a question 
 about ' sensitive influences,' but about the quality of 
 actions, and the difference between man and brutes. It 
 is not whether it is better never to go wrong, but whether 
 it is better never to go either wrong or right. 
 
 " The brutes are sentient machines ; they are governed 
 by unvarying instincts ; they perform animal functions 
 which they have in common with man ; but they are not 
 capable of actions to which, without an abuse of language,, 
 we can ascribe any moral quality. Does a clock deserve 
 credit for veracity when it shows the exact time of the 
 day ? Is the bee doing right when it extracts honey from 
 the flower ? Is the cat doing wrong when it plays with its. 
 mouse ? Or the tiger, when it springs out of the jungle 
 on the young bride, as in that pathetic story in what's-his- 
 name's ' Travels in Tartary ' ? No utterance of Huxley's 
 that I had ever seen before revealed to me so clearly the 
 breadth and depth of the gulf which separates his standing- 
 point from mine."
 
 224 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 3 June, 1870. 
 
 " Am I never to hear froni you again ? 
 
 " Pondering on the possible causes of your protracted 
 silence, I began to think that you must have taken fright 
 at something which I said about the plague of letters, and 
 have overlooked that I could only be speaking about 
 letters of business which required answers, the sight of 
 which for some time I hated very much. But that could 
 never have anything to do with yours. 
 
 " I do not desire a great deal at a time, but you could 
 feed me, as Miss Clark fed her swallow, with tit-bits of 
 town news ; only do not send any enclosures which it 
 
 would puzzle me to decipher I began to be quite 
 
 unhappy from the implacable east wind which accom- 
 panied the bright sunshine of May, and have been most 
 thankful for the rain which has now been followed by a 
 genial temperature, 
 
 " What can possess my peacock ? He is unfailing in 
 his attendance under my window, and I think has never 
 let three minutes pass between morning and night without 
 delivering himself of a series of notes which people who 
 do not enjoy them call screams, yet he is clearly uncon* 
 scious of any absurdity or impropriety " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 6 Jmie, 1870. 
 
 " . . . . As a matter of general experience, I believe 
 that few persons are able to take up again with pleasure a 
 book in which they have been crammed for examination, 
 at least until after a pretty long interval ; but it does not 
 follow that they should take a distaste to the whole class 
 of books to which it belongs. 
 
 " I remember that having been injudiciously plied
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 225 
 
 with Horace at the Charterhouse, many years elapsed 
 before I could enjoy the most charming of Latin poets, 
 though I did not on that account abandon my classical 
 studies " 
 
 Abehgwili Palace, 7 June, 1870. 
 
 " . . . . The Index '" no doubt ' applies to authors,' 
 inasmuch as it affixes a stigma on those whose works are 
 inserted in it, one from which the authors of the Bible 
 would find it difficult to escape. But to say that the 
 Index ' does not apply to readers ' is an assertion which 
 would refute itself, even if it was not contradicted by the 
 most authentic of all evidence. 
 
 " What could be the object of a list of books which 
 ought not to have been written, but which anybody was 
 at liberty to read (unless to promote the reading) ? On 
 the contrary, the application to the authors was merely 
 accidental and subordinate. The single practical object 
 Avas to prevent the books from being read. In the collec- 
 tion of the canons and devices of the Council of Trent are 
 inserted ten rules ' concerning prohibited books.' 
 
 " They are framed for the express purpose of preventing 
 any book being published or any way circulated without 
 (in Rome) papal or (elsewhere) episcopal or inquisitorial 
 license. The tenth rule concludes with these words, which 
 I translate literally from the Latin : — 
 
 " ' Finally, it is enjoined upon all the faithful, that no 
 one dare to read or have in his possession any books 
 against the direction of these Rules or the prohibition of 
 the Index. But if any one shall read or have in his pos- 
 session books of heretics or writings of any author con- 
 
 * This refers to a statement that the Index Expiirgatorius applies to 
 authors only.
 
 226 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 (lemned and prohibited on account of heresy or suspicion 
 of false doctrine, let him immediately incur the sentence 
 of excommunication. But whoever shall read or have in 
 his possession books which have been interdicted on any 
 other account, beside the guilt of mortal sin which attaches 
 to him, let him be severely punished by the judgment of 
 the bishops.' 
 
 " Does that read as if the Index applied ' only to authors 
 and not to readers of books ' ? 
 
 " When I was at Rome I heard that there was a good 
 library at the Dominican convent of the Minerva, which 
 was open to the public at a certain time of the day. I 
 went, and asked the librarian whether they had Petrarch's 
 Epistles. He informed me that they had, but that I could 
 not be allowed to read it without perraission. 
 
 " I am very sorry to have had to write all this, for I 
 could not have spent the time in a more unpleasant or 
 unwholesome way. But if my life had been at stake I 
 could not have left you under so gross a delusion. . . ; ." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 11 June, 1870. 
 
 " I have bad news for you. My holidays are over for 
 
 the rest of my life You probably did not see that 
 
 I am one of a ' company ' which has undertaken the 
 revision of the authorized version of the Old Testament. 
 I shall not live to see its completion ; but in the mean- 
 while it will confiscate every leisure hour that other things 
 might leave to me, and will greatly lengthen the intervals 
 and abridge the compass (on my part at least) of our 
 correspondence "
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 227 
 
 BuLKELEY Arms Hotel, Beaumakis, 1 July, 1870. 
 
 " You perceive that the scene has shifted, and you will 
 at once conchide that there has been some change in the 
 condition of the principal performer. I have now entered 
 on that stage of convalescence in which I have nothing to 
 do but to regain strength and vigour, and particularly 
 some improvement in the article of sleep, which has been 
 of late very unsatisfactory. This I was advised to seek at 
 the seaside, and accordingly have come to this, which T 
 always thought the pleasantest of all watering-places ; and 
 though many many years have elapsed since I was here 
 last, I am glad to find that it still makes the same impres- 
 sion on me. Of course you know it well, and therefore I 
 need say nothing of its manifold beauties, or of the magical 
 play of light and shade by which they are continually 
 diversified. As I drove hither yesterday from the Menai 
 Bridge I could not help thinking of the descriptions one 
 reads of the Turkish Bosphorus between Constantinople 
 and the Black Sea, with its kiosks and gardens coming 
 down to the water's edge. This deserves to be called the 
 Cimmerian (Cambrian) Bosphorus, 
 
 " After some six weeks' confinement to my room the 
 change of scene is in itself pleasant, but the exile from 
 Chaos, at a time when I have so much need of many 
 things in it, is very afflicting " 
 
 Beaumaris, 19 July, 1870. 
 
 " . . . . The same j)c>st brings two declarations — 
 that of Infallibility and that of War. The latter is no 
 doubt the greater crime ; but it is saddening to witness 
 the triumph of falsehood won by the other. How different 
 would have been the result if votes could have been
 
 228 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 weighed instead of counted. It remains to be seen whether 
 the minority, comprising so large a proportion of all that 
 is respectable in the Roman prelacy, will be driven to 
 moral suicide, and recant the deepest convictions of their 
 hearts. 
 
 " The war is no doubt a tremendous evil. But I think 
 any one who observed the state of feeling between France 
 and Prussia since Sadowa must have seen that it was 
 inevitable, and nothing uncertain but the time and occasion 
 of the rupture. 
 
 " I am not sure that Prussia is the more innocent of 
 the two parties. It may be more the misfortune than the 
 fault of Napoleon that he has put himself so glaringly in 
 the wrong, and roused not only all Prussian, but almost all 
 German feeling against him. 
 
 " This is my last day at Beaumaris, and the Menai, as 
 if conscious of my approaching departure, is overhung with 
 a thick canopy of clouds. I intend to sleep at Carnarvon 
 to-morrow, and hope to be the next day once more in 
 Chaos. 
 
 " I wonder whether you saw the eclipse of the moon. I 
 had a perfect view of it as she rose above the hills imme- 
 diately in front of my window. But what you will hardly 
 believe is, that though I thought I remembered having 
 seen her at full the night before, and though I noticed 
 that the crescent was turned opposite ways, I never sus- 
 pected the real state of the case until I saw it in the 
 newspapers " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 11 Ai(g., 1870. 
 
 " . . . . No letter can now be written without a word 
 about the war. Considered with respect to the frivolity of 
 the pretext assigned on the French side, and the absence
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 229 
 
 of all rational motive, the war may, no doubt, be justly 
 called iniquitous ; but considering its absolute necessity, 
 I should hardly say it was more iniquitous than an earth- 
 quake or a volcano. I believe that no human power could 
 have done more than defer it a little longer. But Napo- 
 leon found that the temper of his army did not allow him 
 to wait any longer, and he also believed that he was better 
 prepared than Prussia. In this he seems to have been 
 egregiously mistaken, and so far Ernest de Bunsen's prog- 
 nostics seem to have been verified. 
 
 " I have no sympathy with either belligerent. I believe 
 
 both to be equally ambitious and faithless If I 
 
 wish success to Prussia, it is only because it would not, 
 and the success of France would, endanger our safety. 
 How curious it is that in the nineteenth century we should 
 have another religious war. 
 
 " Such the present is in the eyes of many, both abroad 
 and at home. They look at France as the representative of 
 Romanism, Prussia of Protestantism. Therefore all our 
 Roman Catholics, who are cosmopolites, wish success to 
 France, and would do so on the same ground if the war 
 was between France and England " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 22 Ant;., 1870. 
 
 " .... It does not seem to me that Mr. C needs 
 
 any help. He has already some books about the Jesuits 
 which I have not. He might, perhaps, usefully add to them 
 Theiner, ' Geschichte des Pontificats Clemenz XIV.' I 
 presume that he possesses, though he does not mention, 
 the ' Exercitia Spiritualia.' But if his object is to get or 
 read all that has been published about the Order, I ven- 
 ture to say that neither his means nor his life — unless 
 j)rolonged to the years of Methuselah — would suffice. I
 
 230 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 had almost forgotten to mention Gioberti's five portly 
 octavos (in the collection of his works), ' II Gesuita 
 Moderno.' 
 
 " I have several other things if I knew where to find 
 
 them I am glad, however, to see that you disclaim 
 
 any very profound or special knowledge of the subject. 
 Has anybody advised you to study four volumes of 
 ' Meditations selon la M^thode de S. Ignace ' ? If so, it is 
 
 not from me that you must expect to borrow them 
 
 Is there not a goojd article or two on the subject among 
 Sir J. Stephen's Essays ? . . . ." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 23 Au^., 1870. 
 
 " I cannot get over the impression of Mr. C 's list 
 
 of authors on the Jesuits, with whose works he assumes 
 you to be quite familiar. I did not at first recognise 
 under the name of Steinmetz a book entitled, ' The Novi- 
 ciate, or a Year among the Jesuits.' Perhaps I have also 
 ' Nicolini ' among other works of the same writer. One of 
 the more important books on the subject is Montlosier's 
 ' Memoire a consulter,' for which that excellent man, 
 though a zealous Catholic, was, through Jesuitical intrigues, 
 
 deprived of Christian burial Of course 3'^ou know — 
 
 unless it should happen that you do not know — the ' Jesuiten 
 biichlein ' and Daller, ' Die Jesuiten wie sie waren und 
 wie sie sind.' . . . ." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 2 Sept., 1870. 
 
 " I have reason to be very chary of my time. Until I 
 began to prepare for the next meeting of the Old Testa- 
 ment Revision Company, I had not realised the enormous
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 231 
 
 amount of time which will be occupied, probably for the 
 length of my life, by the preparation alone, to say nothing 
 of that which will be consumed by the meetings, and I 
 begin seriously to doubt whether it will be j^ossible for me 
 to spare it very long. Yet if the other episcopal members 
 can do so, I could not decently withdraw on that ground. 
 
 " When I saw that you had been among the Plymouth 
 Brethren I felt very much interested, and I am glad to 
 know something of the character of their meetings, though 
 there seems to be little in that to distinguish them from 
 other bodies. But I should have liked to have learned a 
 
 little as to their government and discipline I never 
 
 heard the name of more than one Plymouth Brother, who 
 is as eminent in his way as Faraday among the Sande- 
 manians — Dr. Tregelles. It is curious that although the 
 Plymouth Brethren appear to have founded their society 
 on the same principle as the Irvingites — a restoration of 
 the primitive Apostolic Church — they are in their forms 
 of worship and all externals wide as the poles asunder. 
 
 " The curtain, or cloud, which for so many days has 
 concealed the movements of the two belligerents, has now 
 risen, and the position of the French seems more alarming 
 than ever. It seems as if, in another week, the Germans 
 will be at the gates of Paris, and probably in possession of 
 Metz and Strasburg. I think it is very desirable that 
 public sympathy should be rightly directed. It should 
 be remembered that, although the French Government was 
 the aggressor, the great mass of the nation is innocent, and, 
 if its sense had been taken, would have undoubtedly have 
 voted for the maintenance of peace. I do not even con- 
 sider Napoleon himself as the most guilty party. I 
 believe that he would have been more than content if he 
 could have remained quiet. But his throne and dynasty 
 were at stake, and it could not be expected from such a 
 man that he should sacrifice or risk them for the sake of
 
 232 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 peace. The really responsible parties are the army and the 
 idle population of Paris, but above all the military politicians 
 and men like Thiers, who is, perhaps, the man who has 
 most to answer for, as the great business of his life has 
 been to keep alive the spirit of war and conquest, which 
 
 has plunged France into such calamities I can, 
 
 therefore, sj'^mpathize with France — though formally or 
 nominally the aggressor — as well as with Germany, 
 though really defending itself and a most righteous cause. 
 I not only do not desire that France should undergo any 
 needless humiliation, but should regard it as a great evil, 
 tending to perpetuate warfare. I sympathize with Ger- 
 many, but not with Prussia, and have no wish that it 
 should succeed any farther than is necessary to preserve 
 the unity of Germany I cannot doubt that a com- 
 plete triumph of France over Germany would have been 
 the most dreadful calamity that could have befallen 
 Europe, and especially this country, which, as it is, has 
 had a narrow escape. And there is this difference between 
 the French and the Germans. The German is naturally 
 peaceful, the Frenchman is naturally warlike and an 
 ardent lover of military glory, and therefore always ready 
 to follow the lead of an ambitious ruler, which the German 
 would resist. These are the considerations which I think 
 ought to govern the sympathies and wishes of all specta- 
 tors on this side of the water. It is for this reason that 
 Cardinal Cullen prays for the success of the French. .... 
 I had fancied you at home, and unless you are living in a 
 paradise I am sorry you are not there." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 11 Oct., 1870. 
 
 " .... It always affords me real pleasure to burn a 
 canvassing letter, regarding it as a symbol of an atro-
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 233 
 
 ciously wasteful, cruel, immoral system, whicli I should 
 like to abolish in like manner. I often regret that I ever 
 contributed to any society which adopts it " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 14 Oct., 1870. 
 
 " .... I have read Kenan's article, and with great 
 sympathy and general assent. Yet I cannot be surprised 
 that Prussia should take a different view of the subject, or 
 that Germany should be animated by feelings which for 
 the present prevent it from exercising a sober judgment. 
 I do not myself profess to be quite impartial and dis- 
 interested. I long very much for the return of the time 
 when I may look for the Revue des deux Mondes as regu- 
 larly as for the Times. 
 
 " I wonder whether, if ever I see it again, Georges Sand 
 will be going on with her unfinished story. Do you know 
 her ' Homme de Neige ' ? It is a story of intense interest, 
 in fact sensational, and marvellously managed, and con- 
 taining nothing which the most fastidious of mothers 
 might not put into the hands of a daughter. Yet it seems 
 to be very little known, and if I had not picked it up on 
 a boulevard at Paris I believe I should never have heard 
 of its existence " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 29 Oct., 1870. 
 
 " . . . . You believe that I work, work, work like a 
 galley slave or a needlewoman. The fact is that all the 
 employment of my day that could without a gross abuse 
 of language be called tvork is limited to the hours before 
 post-time. All the rest of my time is spent in recreation.
 
 234 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 But even as to the working hours, there would hardly be 
 a pretence for calling them so, if it were not that all 
 writing is disagreeable to me, and therefore a labour. 
 To many the same amount of writing would be a 
 pleasure. At the same time I frankly admit that what 
 is to me delightful recreation, and therefore in the highest 
 degree wholesome both for mind and body, would to many 
 be a laborious task, I wonder how many there are who 
 would willingly sit down to read a play of Shakespeare, 
 to say nothing of ^Eschylus or Sophocles ? Does that prove 
 that I am killing myself when I do so ? This revision of 
 the Bible, which so completely fills up every spare minute, 
 is in itself to me extremely pleasant and interesting. But 
 unfortunately there is a characteristic of the Hebrew 
 letters, many of Avhich are only distinguishable from one 
 another on a most minute inspection under strong light, 
 which makes it painful to read except in the daytime. 
 
 By candlelight I can only read about it 
 
 " I am glad to have seen the letter of the learned 
 nun. But her reflections on heresiarchs cannot really 
 be considered as her own, and I am persuaded that it 
 would be doing her injustice to suj)pose that they were 
 the result of any study which she had given to the subject. 
 This would be evident enough from the want of all dis- 
 crimination in her sentence upon them. But no person 
 of ordinary intelligence was ever led by the study of 
 Luther's life to charge him with 'diabolic pride.' The 
 nun does but echo the conventional language of her 
 teachers. Reduced to its simplest expression, it is 
 merely, ' If you are not of my way of thinking it can 
 only be through some moral defect.' You remember the 
 Pope's remark on the death of Montalembert, who had 
 ventured to disapprove of the Council. It was ' ^^^'i^®,' 
 the Pope said, and unless he was converted at the last 
 moment his prospect was very bad indeed "
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 235 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 15 Nov., 1870. 
 
 " .... I found that at it was believed that a 
 
 bishop's great difficulty is how to get rid of his vacant 
 time. It was supposed that I regularly made an excur- 
 sion on the Continent every year, and the young lady who 
 told me of that was astonished when I observed that any 
 other clergyman (having the means) might take his three 
 months' holiday, but not a bishop. She had fancied that 
 it was just the reverse 
 
 " I am glad to find that anybody listened to my 
 sermon. I admired the patience of the congregation, who, 
 though three-fourths of them at least were longing for the 
 moment when I should make way for Dr. Griffith, did not 
 make any scraping with their feet or show any outward 
 sign of suffering. How can I in cold blood tell mankind 
 that, as they have not printed sermons enough, I am going 
 to add to the number ? Have you yourself read through 
 Jeremy Taylor's, or Blair's, or Tillotson's, or Barrow's, or 
 South's, or Newman's, or Manning's, or Liddon's, or the 
 Bishop of Oxford's ? If you have, let me advise you to 
 sit down to Bossuet, Bourdaloue, Massillon, and Lacor- 
 daire. When you have digested them, I shall be sur- 
 prised if you find yourself longing for more." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 26 Bee, 1870. 
 
 " .... I am frozen, and intensely dislike the frost. 
 But when I see what healthy enjoyment it affords to the 
 skaters on my pool, and will do to a young nephew who 
 is coming to me to-morrow, I have not the heart to wish 
 it gone. On the other hand, I reproach myself with the 
 little I suffer from it when I think of the number of 
 poor creatures who have to endure it, without a fire to 
 
 Q
 
 236 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 
 
 flee to, and with insufficient clothing and empty stomachs ; 
 but still more when I think of the misery it inflicts on 
 the wounded in the battle-field. 
 
 " I do sit in this Avindow of Chaos. But I sit in a great- 
 coat. There is no other part of the room where it would 
 be possible for me to do what I have to do. I do not 
 think you have an adequate idea of the difficulty of 
 organizing Chaos. I know that your faculty of arrange- 
 ment is great, but I do not think you would like to under- 
 take the task of sorting my letters according to the 
 various circumstances which render it necessary that they 
 should be kept near me for a longer or a shorter time, 
 and some preserved while others are destroyed. Also you 
 do not seem to reflect that, when you had finished your 
 work, it would be all buried again, in the course of a few 
 days, under fresh paper showers, like footsteps in a snow- 
 storm. Chaos is choke-full of books and pamphlets. But 
 why ? Simply because there is no room for them any- 
 where else in the house, except in piles, which would 
 
 make them utterly useless May you be able to 
 
 keep yourselves and guests warm, and enjoy a thoroughly 
 pleasant Christmas."
 
 1871. 
 
 Q 2
 
 Abergwili Palace, 3 Jan., 1871. 
 
 " . . . . The fall of snow lias shut me up in the house, 
 and my only exercise has consisted in spreading crumbs 
 
 for the dear little birds What shall I wish you 
 
 and yours ? That each coming year may be happier than 
 the last." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 16 Jan., 1871. 
 
 " . . . . Carlyle has lately been guilty of a sad paradox- 
 platitude, a protest against poetry, as something which no 
 one can read quite in earnest. As if it was not the form 
 in which the most earnest thinkers have always found 
 themselves impelled to express their very deepest thoughts. 
 Fancy 'In Memoriam' turned into prose " 
 
 1, Eegent Street, 18 Feb., 1871. 
 
 " .... Of Miss Jewsbury it may be truly said that 
 she is highly favoured among women. Come what may, 
 nothing can deprive her of one source of inward satisfac- 
 tion, which I believe to be peculiar to herself It is not 
 merely that she should have obtained so many notable 
 signatures to her Memorial, but that so many distinguished 
 persons, who have, perhaps,' no other opinion in commoii;
 
 240 BISHOP tiiirlwall's 
 
 should agree on the single point of her worthiness. Such 
 an extraordinary concurrence of testimony in her favour is 
 certainly worth more than the object itself. But still I 
 
 hope that it will be useful as well as honourable 
 
 " .... I now hope that I may get another view of 
 the Exhibition before I leave town. For you will have 
 seen that, through a most curious course of events, I have 
 been relieved from attendance at the meetings of the Old 
 Testament Revision Company, and am no longer a working 
 member. Though the sacrifice of time was very great, I 
 found the occupation extremely interesting and the meet- 
 ings highly enjoyable. But I have the satisfaction of 
 being able to look back on the step I took without regret, 
 and to feel that it has probably done some good. But I 
 could hardly have believed it possible that a deliberative 
 assembly could have betrayed such utter thoughtlessness 
 and confusion of ideas. A visitor forces me to end my 
 letter, that I may not lose this post." 
 
 1, Eegent Street, 20 Feb., 1871. 
 
 " P.S. — Through a most extraordinary turn of events I 
 find my neck replaced in the old collar. If you should 
 not know the history I can explain it at some future time. 
 It is the most wonderful success ever achieved." 
 
 1, Regent Street, S.W., 23 Feh., 1871. 
 
 " The history of what happened in the Upper House is 
 briefly this. The Bishop of Winchester's Resolution ■^^' was 
 
 * " That it is the judgment of this House that it is not expedient that 
 any person who denies the Godhead of our Lord Jesus Christ should be 
 invited to join either Company to which is committed the revision of the 
 Authorized Version of Holy Scripture ; and that it is further the judgment 
 of this House that any such person now in either Company shall cease to act 
 therewith ; and that this resolution he communicated to the Lower House, 
 and their concurrence required."
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 241 
 
 carried on Wednesday by a large majority. I immediately 
 gave notice of that which you saw in the Times, which I 
 moved the next day. In my speech on the occasion I 
 informed my hearers that my Eesolution ^■' was intended by 
 me directly to contradict that of the day before by the 
 assertion of an opposite principle. Notwithstanding tliis 
 warning it was carried unanimously, and sent down to the 
 Lower House, who on their part made a proposal, the 
 effect of which was virtually and practically to rescind and 
 annul the first Resolution. The U23per House acceded 
 unanimously to this proposal. A more complete volte face 
 movement was never executed by a deliberative assembly. 
 After this it became evident that, as far as I was concerned, 
 the ground on which I had seceded from my company was 
 entirely removed, as it was impossible for me to desire 
 more complete satisfaction. I should not, however, have 
 felt at liberty to comply with the requests which I received 
 to resume my functions, if I had not ascertained that this 
 was also Stanley's view of the subject. 
 
 " To have stood out any longer would have been mere 
 obstinacy and peevishness, for which I had no motive, but, 
 on the contrary, every reason to rejoice in a success which 
 I should have previously thought impossible. I have 
 received many congratulations upon it, but, perhaps, I ought 
 to value most of all the unintentional compliment which I 
 just now see is paid me by the Guardian, who thinks my 
 Resolution a ' strange ' and ' lamentable ' one, and is evi- 
 dently astonished and annoyed to the last degree at my 
 having induced the House unanimously to agree to it. 
 The only unfortunate part of the result is that the Upper 
 
 * " That, notwithstanding the restriction introduced into the fifth resolu- 
 tion, this House does not intend to give the slightest sanction or countenance 
 to the opinion that the memhers of the Revision Companies ought to be 
 guided by any other principle than the desire to bring the translation as neax 
 as they can to the sense of the original texts ; but, on the contrary, regards it 
 as their duty to keep themselves as much as possible on theii- guard agaiust 
 any bias of preconceived opinions or theological tenets in the work of Revision."
 
 242 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 House has certainly lowered itself in public estimation. 
 All that can be said — and I really-think that so much may 
 be truly said — in its favour is, that having been betrayed 
 by a mistaken zeal and confusion of ideas into an unwise 
 step, they nevertheless had sufficient candour and honesty 
 to accept truth and common sense when it was presented to 
 them, even at a great sacrifice of consistency. I am afraid 
 from the line taken by the Guardian that it is the better 
 part of their conduct which will be least approved of by the 
 great body of the clergy." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 6 March, 1871. 
 
 " I only received your last P.S. a few minutes before I 
 stepped into the cab which was to take me to the station. I 
 25ut it into a side pocket, and read it by the way. But on 
 my arrival here the short interval before I met my guests was 
 consumed in taking down the paj^er piles which had been 
 reared during my absence, and in the course of this opera- 
 tion your letter unfortunately sank into the depths of 
 Chaos, and I do not suppose I shall ever see it again. I 
 am particularly sorry that I am thus prevented from 
 referring to it, because there was one part of it to which I 
 could not at all assent ; I mean that which relates to the 
 supposed contrast between the heathen-philosophical and 
 'die Christian view of death. • I do not remember the 
 passage in Lecky's work from which you learnt this, but 
 I am sure that it is quite a mistake. You speak, indeed, 
 of philosophy and philosophers as if there was only one 
 philosophy or school of philosoj^hers, instead of there being 
 a great number of conflicting sects (which a Roman Pro- 
 consul once enjoined by a decree to make up their differ- 
 ences) ; but I venture to assert that there never was any 
 ancient philosopher to whom, as philosopher, death was 
 ' welcome,' though he might strive more or less success-
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 243 
 
 fully to reconcile himself to it. The elaborate reasoning 
 by which Cicero (drawing from all the philosophy of all 
 the schools) tried to accomplish this feat proves how little 
 he really satisfied himself He devotes one book of one 
 of his treatises to this subject, and his argument is that 
 death is either an utter extinction of sense or a transition 
 to a better state. 
 
 " In the former case all the comfort he can suggest is 
 that life is so full of miseries as not to be worth keeping. 
 The alternative confessedly depended on a long chain of very 
 questionable ratiocination. The Stoics, on their principles, 
 could not take this view. To them death, as an outward 
 thing, was a matter of indifference, just as the acutest bodily 
 pain, which could not affect the wise man's well-being, 
 since this depended on virtue alone. There might be 
 cases in which the wise men would prefer death, if to die 
 was, as Cato fancied it, an act of virtue. Otherwise all 
 that he could do was to face it without fear. With the 
 Epicureans, who were the most popular sect, it was far 
 otherwise. To them death, except as a release from pain, 
 could never be other than in the highest degree iw?. welcome. 
 Horace was a very sound Ej)icurean, and we see how he 
 taught. Death was to him simply an inevitable evil. He 
 does not attempt to extenuate it by disparaging the value 
 of life. He does not even attempt to offer any ' comfort.' 
 His practical conclusion is, ' Let us eat and drink, for 
 to-morrow we die.' Hear how he preaches (in Conington's 
 translation) to his friend Postumus : — 
 
 ' Ah (the Latin is Uheu ! — alas !) 
 * Ah, Postumus ! they fleet away, 
 Our years, nor piety one hour 
 Can win from wrinkles and decay, 
 And Death's indomitahle power. 
 ****** 
 
 Your land, your house, your lovely hride 
 Must lose you ; of your cherish' d trees 
 
 None to its fleeting master's side 
 
 Will cleave, but those sad cypresses.'
 
 244 
 
 " Then comes the moral, delicately conveyed, but clearly 
 reprehending Postumus for hoarding his wine : — 
 
 * Your heir, a larger soul, will drain 
 The hundred-padlock' d CaecuLan.' 
 
 " In another ode the lesson is given more directly : — 
 
 ' Strain your wine and prove your wisdom ; life is short ; should hope be 
 more ? 
 In the moment of our talking, envious time has ehh'd away. 
 Seize the present; trust to-morrow e'en as little as you may.' 
 
 " But what seems to me strangest of all is that the 
 heathen philosophers of any sect should be supposed to 
 have an advantage in this resj)ect over a Christian. Socrates 
 himself believed that he had no reason to fear death, 
 because for him it could not be a positive evil, and might 
 be relatively a good. That was the utmost extent of the 
 ' welcome ' he would give to it. Who, then, shall repre- 
 sent the Christian view ? .... St. Paul. His language 
 is ' To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.' 
 
 " ' I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart 
 and to be with Christ, which is far better. Nevertheless, 
 to abide in the flesh is more needful for you.' 
 
 " That seems to go a long way beyond Socrates in the 
 ' welcoming ' of death. 
 
 " I am afraid there are some questions which I have 
 forgotten ; but one I remember concerned the Revue des 
 deux Mondes. I thought it j^ossible that I might find 
 a continuation here ; but none has come. Whenever it 
 appears it will be like the olive-leaf in the dove's mouth, 
 shoAving that the deluge has subsided. But who can tell 
 how many of the contributors have survived ? The effect 
 of the war will also, I am afraid, be detrimental to the 
 character of the Revue, as it will hardly be able to find 
 room for any other topic. 
 
 " My candidates left me this morning, and this evening
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 245 
 
 I am to entertain the Judge. But the Bar have almost all 
 flown away." 
 
 Abekgwili Palace, 8 March, 1871. 
 
 " P.S. — The lost one has miraculously emerged from 
 Chaos. I see that, although what I said as to the supposed 
 ' difference between the ancient philosopher's and the 
 Christian's acceptance of death ' applies to your remark on 
 that point, if I had had the letter before me I should have 
 said something more. It was no part of the practice of 
 any 'ancient philosopher to court death even to suicide,' 
 though there might be here and there a fanatic who had 
 talked himself into such a belief of the misery of life as 
 to count death the lesser evil. But the instinctive dread 
 of death, when apparently near at hand, has, I believe, 
 been always equally strong among all members of the 
 human race. I showed you how it haunted cultivated 
 minds in the heathen world, even when viewed from a 
 distance. If it casts a deeper shade over any Christian 
 life, it is only in connexion with the doctrine of future 
 retribution. But when you compare a philosopher with a 
 Christian you ought to consider them both as such, and 
 not to contrast a philosopher who is true to his principles 
 with a bad, inconsistent Christian. You seem quite to 
 have forgotten that if there were philosophers — who, I 
 believe, might be counted on the fingers of one hand — 
 who ' courted death even to suicide,' there were hundreds 
 and thousands of Christians who courted it even to 
 martyrdom. 
 
 " The ordinary complaint of divines is, that the cer- 
 tainty of death and uncertainty of life make so little 
 practical impression on the minds of their hearers. But if 
 the question is whether the ancient philosophy (of any 
 sect) or the Christian faith (common to all churches) has 
 been the more potent to raise men above the fear of death, 
 I should like to know where is the ancient philosopher
 
 246 
 
 wlio ever broke out into such a psean as, ' death, Avhere 
 is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ? ' When you 
 say, ' Yet the hereafter was equally obscure to each,' you 
 confuse two entirely different things. To the philosopher 
 the hereafter was indeed obscure, as he was himself con- 
 scious of its obscurity. But to the Christian it was no 
 otherwise obscure than as others might doubt that which 
 he believed. To himself, so far as concerned his ' accept- 
 ance of death,' it was not in the least obscure. It was a 
 fact as clear and certain — rather more so — ^as any of his 
 present existence." 
 
 Abergwili Palace. 
 
 "P.S. — The olive-leaf has arrived in eleven leaflets. 
 How shall I ever find time to turn over such a foliage ? " 
 
 9 March, 1871. 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 16 March, 1871. 
 
 " I ought by rights to have looked and seen what Lecky 
 himself said before I made any remark on that which you 
 reported of him. But he was at the other end of the 
 house, and I had not leisure to search for the passage to 
 which you referred. Now that you have been so good as 
 to save me the trouble of the search I have read the 
 passage, and I see that your remark was very natural, and 
 that he alone is responsible for the error into which, as I 
 think, you have fallen. I am extremely dissatisfied ''^ with 
 his whole treatment of the subject. It appears to me 
 superficial and confused in the highest degree. From 
 beginning to end I find no guiding princij)le, no attenipt 
 to discriminate between the different cases which he cites. 
 He betrays an utter incapacity of aj^preciating the moral 
 
 * It is hardly necessary to say that the Bishop's general appreciation of 
 Mr. Lecky's two famous works was high.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 247 
 
 character of the actions he relates. He lavishes his 
 admiration on the most unworthy objects. He evidently 
 fancies that he sees 'grandeur' (p. 231) in Cato's suicide, 
 and that the highest praise that could be given to that of 
 Otho is that it was 'equal in "grandeur" to that of Cato.' 
 He omits to jDoint out, manifestly because he did not 
 perceive, the wide dissimilarity of the two cases. If Otho 
 really killed himself to prevent a civil war, his act was one 
 of noble self-sacrifice, though it might not be consistent 
 with a Christian principle, which was also that of the 
 elder philosof)hy (see p. 224). But Cato's suicide was not 
 only unjustifiable on this ground, but was at direct variance 
 with Stoical principles, and must, if judged by them alone, 
 be condemned as mean and cowardly. He had no such 
 plea to allege as Otho. He merely shrank from the mor- 
 tification of witnessing Csesar's triumph. What heroism 
 was there in that ? 
 
 " Lecky observes (p. 228) that it was in the Roman 
 empire and among the Roman Stoics that suicide assumed 
 its greatest prominence, and its philosophy was most fully 
 elaborated. He seems quite blind to the fact that the 
 extinction of civil liberty produced an immense deprecia 
 tion in the value of life among all educated Romans, whom 
 the Imperial despotism excluded from all share in the 
 administration of public affairs, and so far tended to 
 multiiDly suicides. But the ' elaboration ' of the suicidal 
 ' philosophy ' consisted merely in the abandonment of all 
 that was sound in the ancient principles, and the substi- 
 tution of purely Ej)icurean maxims : ' that is the best which 
 pleases him miost' (p. 229). No doubt in every society 
 where the Christian and old Pythagorean idea of life, as 
 a talent and a trust, is unknown or forgotten, and where 
 its value is measured by enjoyment, suicide will be likely 
 to become common. 
 
 " The most trifling occasion will supply a sufficient
 
 248 BISHOP thielwall's 
 
 motive. How often do we read of boys hanging them- 
 selves in a fit of passion because they have been thwarted 
 in some wish. They defy death as bravely as Cato, and 
 exactly on the same principle — impatience of something 
 disagreeable. Just apply this test to Lecky's cases, and 
 see how many will bear it, or can be reconciled with the 
 Stoical doctrine that no external accident such as pain or 
 disease is an evil, and that the wise man's happiness con- 
 sists entirely in virtuous action. That doctrine is as irre- 
 concilable with suicide as any Christian dogma. 
 
 " It was the comfort of Socrates that no evil can befall 
 a good man. Every Christian may say the same thing, 
 though the comfort he may draw from it will be 
 only in proportion as he is indeed a Christian. The 
 affirmation implies the converse — that evil will and 
 must befall the bad man. Hamlet is but half Chris- 
 tian when he speaks of the fear of ' something after 
 death, the undiscovered country,' as the most effectual 
 restraint on the temptation to suicide, which would other- 
 wise be generally irresistible. But Socrates also expected 
 an interview with Minos and Ehadamanthus, to which he 
 indeed could look forward with positive pleasure, because 
 he should find them so unlike his Athenian judges, but 
 which must have been alarming to many consciences, 
 though few may have been distressed by the thought of the 
 torments reserved for such offenders as Tartarus and Ixion. 
 
 " That was a dreadfully precocious passion for suicide 
 that was exhibited by the child who courted death under 
 your carriage wheels. If it had been a young Pagan, 
 Lecky could have made something of it. But what is the 
 real difference between your young hero and Cato ? The 
 child acted without reflection, and without any apparent or 
 intelligible motive. Cato acted deliberately, and under a 
 motive which is perfectly intelligible, but essentially 
 unphilosophical, vulgar, and childish. The premeditation,
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 249 
 
 which obtained so much admiration for it, and which 
 Lecky thinks so ' grand,' deprives it of its only possible 
 excuse. One can sympathize with that which made life 
 intolerable to Prevost Paradol, but Cato did the cowardly 
 aet in cold blood 
 
 " I wonder that you have not received your arrears of 
 the Revue down to the 1st of March. You should imme- 
 diately apply yourself to the ' Chronique de la Quinzaine,' 
 which exhibits the impression made on educated French- 
 men by the successive phases of the siege. It has all the 
 interest of a romance or a drama. 
 
 " P.S. — I see I forgot to remark that there is no real 
 contrast between the view of death as a law and as a 
 punishment. The fathers, who believed it to be a punish- 
 ment, did not question that it was a law. The law was 
 the punishment." 
 
 Abehgwili Palace, 27 March, 1871. 
 
 " You have asked a question which seems to me to 
 betray some misapprehension on the subject of suicide. 
 You ask, ' Did not the fathers view death as a law and a 
 punishment, the philosophers as a law only ?' Undoubtedly 
 the philosophers did not ground their speculations on the 
 Book of Genesis, whereas the fathers did. But there was 
 no controversy between them and the philosophers as to 
 the origin of the law, concerning which the philosophers 
 did not pretend to know anything, while the fathers 
 believed that it had been divinely revealed to them. But 
 when the question is as to the moral quality of suicide, I 
 do not see how it can be aftected by any difference of 
 views on the origin of the law, while all parties acknow- 
 ledge the fact of its existence. 
 
 " A week ago there was a notice in the Spectator 
 of an essay entitled ' Euthanasia/ in which the author
 
 250 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 ' maintains tlie tliesis that it is lawful, and even expedient, 
 to put an end to the life which is manifestly doomed to 
 the sufferings of incurable disease.' The Spectator combats 
 this thesis on ground which was common to philosophers 
 (of the best schools) and Christians. 
 
 " ' The old belief,' he says, ' that a man may not quit 
 his post except at the bidding of his commander, seems to 
 us the expression of a noble and far-seeing wisdom.' It 
 is, at all events, a doctrine at once Christian and philo- 
 sophical 
 
 " I do not at all wonder that wish that they might 
 
 join the deputation to the Poj)e. I should like nothing better 
 myself, provided that at the end of the journey I was not 
 obliged to be present at the interview. But that is just 
 the privilege which they think most enviable. The only 
 question is whether they could do so, if they understood 
 what this deputation really means, especially with regard 
 to its most distinguished members. It is headed, I believe, 
 by the Duke of Norfolk, who is to be accompanied by several 
 Roman Catholic members of the House of Lords. I do 
 not know what is its precise object ; it may be simply to 
 express their wishes for the restoration of the temporal 
 power. But it cannot be supposed that they mean to 
 ignore the new attribute with which the Pope has been 
 invested, or that any one would join the deputation who 
 did not heartily accept that decree of the Council. Then 
 observe these two things : — 
 
 " 1. The Duke of Norfolk and his Roman Catholic com- 
 peers owe their seats in the House of Lords to the solemn 
 assurance given by all the English and Irish Bishops of their 
 Church, that the dogma now proclaimed was not a doctrine 
 of the Church of Rome. Several of the English and Irish 
 members of the Council urged this as a reason which 
 made it impossible for them to accept the dogma. The 
 Duke of Norfolk, therefore, is going to express his satisfac-
 
 LETTEES TO A FRIEND. 251 
 
 tion at the discovery tliat he is enjoying the fruits of this 
 misrepresentation, and that he holds his seat under and by 
 virtue of false pretences. Is that a really dignified or 
 enviable position ? Would not a man of honour feel that 
 his first duty was to resign a seat obtained by such means ? 
 
 " But there is a still graver question connected with 
 this formal adhesion to the infallible Pope, 
 
 "2. Before the proclamation of this dogma, although 
 it used to be urged that men who only paid 'a divided 
 allegiance ' were not entitled to the full privileges of 
 British subjects, it was possible to believe the English 
 Roman Catholics when they professed to be loyal subjects, 
 good citizens, and sincerely attached to the institutions of 
 their country. That has now ceased to be possible with 
 regard to any intelligent and conscientious members of 
 their Church. Their allegiance is no longer ' divided,' but 
 is and must be due exclusively to the Pojie, who claims 
 absolute power over all persons and things, reserving 
 entirely to his o^vn discretion the way in which he may 
 think fit to exercise it. No sincere and intelligent Roman 
 Catholic can now believe that he is bound by any law or 
 any oath which is at variance with these claims of the 
 Infallible Pope. In the meanwhile it is certain that there 
 is not a country on the face of the earth whose institutions 
 are so directly opposed to the principles laid down by the 
 Infallible Teacher in the Syllabus as those of Great Britain. 
 If the Pope knew anything of English history, he would 
 say that the epoch which was the happiest and most 
 glorious for England was that in which King John knelt 
 before Pandulph to make himself the Pope's tributary 
 vassal. The subversion of our present constitution ought 
 to be the object which every faithful Romanist proposes to 
 himself If there are any with whom this is otherwise, it 
 can only be the effect of ignorance, thoughtlessness, and 
 inconsistency. No doubt the inconsistency is an amiable 
 
 R
 
 252 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 and honourable one. It does credit to their natural feel- 
 ings, which rebel against the false teaching of their priests. 
 But it is not the less lamentable that this discordance 
 between their principles and their practice should be the 
 only security they have to offer, and that in proportion as 
 they are good Catholics they must be bad, disloyal citizens. 
 
 "From all who really love our free institutions they 
 are now for ever separated by an impassable gulf The 
 Duke of Norfolk is going to pay his homage to the author 
 of this calamity. Will he be placing himself in an 
 enviable or honourable position ? Only in the eyes of 
 those who do not know what he is doing, which I hope 
 may be the case with himself 
 
 " Here I must break off. I must keep Mr. 's letter 
 
 until I send a word with it." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 28 March, 1871. 
 
 " P.S. — Though I can very ill spare the time, I find it 
 impossible to return 's letter without a few remarks. 
 
 " Even if I had not — though I beheve I have — a drop 
 of Celtic blood in my veins, I should sympathize warmly 
 with his patriotic feelings, and should think it quite right 
 as well as natural that he should draw comfort under the 
 present miseries of his country — now how much greater 
 than when he wrote ! — from the recollection of her past 
 glories and the hope of a brighter future. But no feeling 
 can be durable which is not founded on truth. Some one 
 said, ' Amicus Plato, sed magis arnica Veritas,' which some 
 one else translated, ' Plato is my friend, but Truth is my 
 sister.' It ought to be nearer and dearer than flesh and 
 blood. I fully admit the right of France to all the glory 
 
 which claims for her, as having first proclaimed 
 
 'the principles of 1789,' though he alludes to them just 
 as he might have done if the interval between that pro- 
 clamation and the accession of Louis Napoleon had been
 
 LETTEES TO A FRIEND. 253 
 
 one In which France had been governed according to those 
 principles, altogether ignoring the Eeign of Terror, the 
 first Empire, and the consequent constant oscillation, 
 which at last led to the general acceptance of Louis 
 Napoleon as the ' Saviour of Society.' In ftict, during 
 the more than eighty years which have elapsed since the 
 outbreak of the Revolution, there has not been one in 
 which France has enjoyed the blessing of a stable govern- 
 ment. When I consider this fact, and compare the pro- 
 gress of Great Britain during the same period, I find my 
 admiration of the disembodied ' principles ' a good deal 
 abated ; and it seems to me that much less depends on 
 the principles themselves than on the way they are 
 applied. The ruffians who are now triumphant in Paris 
 no doubt consider their rule as the only true development 
 of the revolutionary principles. 
 
 " While I sympathize with France, I to a considerable 
 
 extent share 's feelings towards the Prussians, so far 
 
 at least as to regard their present ascendancy and the 
 temporary effacement of France as a great Eurojoean 
 calamity. To ourselves its first fruit has been the humi- 
 liation of the disgraceful conference ; """ and as I place no 
 reliance on the moderation either of Bismark or his 
 Emperor, I fear that much more of the same kind is to 
 come. But still I cannot digest such words as ' Les 
 barbares Germains.' Coming from such a man, they seem 
 to me fearfully ominous — indicative of a spirit which, as 
 long as it prevails in France, must preclude all hope of 
 peace for Europe. The Germans barhai^ans ! In the 
 last ' Chronique de la Quinzaine ' I read these words : 
 ' Disons le mot, si cruel qu'il soit ; ce malheur de la 
 France n'est point I'oeuvre du hasard : cette Aactoire de 
 nos ennemis c'est le triomj)he de I'ordre, de la discipline, 
 
 * The Black Sea Conference was appointed to meet 3rd January, 1871, 
 actually met January 17 in London, closed its sittings March 14. 
 
 R 2
 
 254 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 de la suite dans les idees, de la science, de la m(^tliode, 
 sur la confusion, la legerete, I'indiscipline, la suffisance et 
 I'insuffisanco.' Yet these enemies are harharians. And 
 why ? Apparently because they lack the ' grand souffle 
 philosophique et moral,' which is French property. But 
 if so, what other nation in Europe is not at least equally 
 barbarian ? And does not this point to the conclusion 
 that France may justly regard all other nations of the 
 earth in the same light as the Greeks did all foreigners, 
 whom they stigmatized with the same word which we 
 have borrowed from them? Now I should not complain 
 of the French for cherishing the belief in their own 
 superiority over every other people if they did not 
 attempt to carry the belief into j)ractice. But as the 
 Greek philosophers laid it down as a law of nature that 
 Greeks should govern, and, if they chose, enslave bar- 
 barians, so the French have shown a disposition to con- 
 sider themselves as the natural arbiters, regulators, in 
 short (for it comes to this), lords of Europe. If Nicholas 
 of Russia had the impudence to say that not a gun should 
 be fired in Europe without his leave, so we heard a little 
 before the war that some French statesman — I forget on 
 what occasion — had delivered himself of the maxim, 'Quand 
 la France est satisfaite, 1' Europe est tranquille ; ' in other 
 words, ' Europe shall never be quiet as long as France has 
 a wish unsatisfied.' That I believe to have been the feel- 
 ing Avhich rendered the declaration of war popular in 
 France. And what am I to think of the elevation of 
 
 such a man as Thiers, with the approbation of ? 
 
 Of Thiers, the man on whom, next to the first 
 Napoleon, a larger share of responsibility for the war rests 
 than on any other ; the man who has done more than any 
 other to inflame the French lust for military glory, and to 
 direct the aim of the nation to the recovery of the Rhenish 
 Provinces ; the man who desired to prevent the unifica-
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 255 
 
 tion of Italy and of Germany only because it was likely to 
 stand in the way of French ascendancy. It is to the same 
 feelinof that I attribute the unfortunate declaration of 
 Jules Favre, that ' France would never 3deld an inch of 
 her territory or a stone of her fortresses.' The Prussian 
 terms are no doubt exorbitant, but they seem to be only 
 a little less unreasonable in an opposite direction ; and, if 
 we would judge them fairly, we must try to put ourselves 
 in the place of the conquerors, who had triumphed over 
 an un]Drovoked aggression at an enormous cost of blood 
 and treasure, to say nothing of their recollections of French 
 moderation at Berlin. 
 
 " There is an article in the last Contetnpoixtry Review, 
 
 ' France and Prussia, by Professor Dowden,' which 
 
 himself might have written, and which he (or you) would 
 read with immense pleasure. I agree with it ' tout en 
 gardant des nuances et des reserves sur tel ou tel point.' " 
 
 Abergavili Palace, 4 April, 1871. 
 
 " I perfectly understood that when you asked whether 
 it is not the fact, ' that to the philosophers death was only 
 a law, while to the Fathers it Avas not only a law but a 
 punishment,' you did not mean suicide, but natural death. 
 I am only at a loss to conceive how the other meaning 
 could have occurred to me, and what could have led you 
 to think it possible that it should have done so. 
 
 " But I am still more puzzled by your new question, 
 which seems to imply some misapprehension of my mean- 
 ing, and also to involve some very strange paradoxes of 
 which you seem to be quite unconscious. 
 
 " You ask, * Why should death — except the manner of 
 it — he considered a punishment at all when it leads us to 
 better things, to a somewhere without pain, or perplexity,
 
 256 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 or sin ?' I hope, though I cannot help feeHng a strong 
 misgiving to the contrary, that you do not imagine that 
 anything I have said on the subject depends in the 
 shglitest degree on the question whether death is rightly 
 considered as a punishment. But putting this aside, I see 
 that you have worded your question so that it admits of 
 two widely different senses, according to the meaning of 
 your ' ivhen.' For that may signify either whereas, and so 
 would assume that in all cases death leads us to better 
 things, or it may signify tuhenever, i.e. be the cases many 
 or few in which it does so. In the first sense the assump- 
 tion is wonderfully bold, especially when made as if it were 
 a self-evident truth. 
 
 " Taken in the other sense, the question is, perhaps, a 
 little less paradoxical, but still the reasons why death may 
 be considered as a punishment even in such a case are so 
 obvious that they can only be kept out of sight by an 
 extraordinary effort of abstraction. 
 
 " How does it follow that death is not a punishment 
 because it leads to better things ? Suppose a man desires 
 to reach some pleasant field lying on the other side of a 
 stream which is crossed by a good bridge. If he is pre- 
 vented from going over the bridge, and forced to take to 
 the water, may not that be considered as a punishment ? 
 If an invalid, subject to sea-sickness, is compelled to 
 take a voyage to Madeira because he is debarred from the 
 use of a medicine or from change of air, which would 
 have effected his cure at home, is not that in the nature 
 of a punishment ? Is it a sufiicient consolation to the 
 mother of a young emigrant, under the anguish of parting, 
 to believe that he is going to make his fortune at the 
 antipodes, and would she not consider it as a punishment 
 if he was debarred from an equally profitable employment 
 in his own country ? Is human life in general such a 
 scene of unmitigated misery that every one should be
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 257 
 
 anxious to hurry out of it with the certainty of being a 
 gainer by the change of state ? And are the ties which 
 bind us to earthly relatives and friends so slight that they 
 may be severed without any touch of pain ? 
 
 " Surely these are monstrous paradoxes, against which 
 the common sense of mankind revolts 
 
 " If we were quite sure that death is nothing worse than 
 a forcible interruption of a development, which would 
 otherwise have been continuous, it would still be in the 
 nature of a punishment if considered as an ordinance at 
 all. But when we neither have nor can have any such 
 assurance, how can we look upon it as an unalloyed bless- 
 insr ? Can a condition in wdiich it is welcome as such be 
 any other than one of intolerable desperate misery ? 
 
 " I had intended to say a word on the Roman question, 
 but this I must defer to another time. 
 
 " I envy Mr. Perowne still more than the Duke of Nor- 
 folk and his companions " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 5 April, 1871. 
 
 " P.S. — I have no doubt that what you say about the 
 happy unconsciousness of the Duke of Norfolk is perfectly 
 true, and also that the same is the case with the great 
 majority of English Romanists. 
 
 " This ignorance is indeed their bliss ; and it would be 
 cruelty to open their eyes to the truth, if it was not that 
 their blindness leaves them at the mercy of treacherous 
 guides. Unfortunately it is but too certain that among 
 educated English Protestants hardly one in a thousand is 
 better informed, and has ever realised the meaning and 
 importance of the decree or definition of Papal Infalli- 
 bility. Most people fancy that it is a mere theological 
 dogma, which, however extravagant in itself, can have no 
 practical effect on the affairs of mankind. It was very 
 unlucky that the promulgation coincided with the out-
 
 258 BISHOP thielwall's 
 
 break of the war, which of course engrossed every one's 
 attention ; and any one who had said that the decree was 
 the more momentous event of the two would have been 
 thought to have lost his senses. Yet it is certain that the 
 decree affects the interests of a much larger portion of 
 mankind, and must continue to do so for a much longer 
 time. I wonder whether you have ever considered its 
 retrospective action ? 
 
 " Are you aware that its effect, as regards the past, is 
 that there has never been any pretension to universal 
 absolute sovereignty put forward in any papal bull that 
 has not now become a part of the doctrine of the Roman 
 Catholic Church, just as binding on the consciences of all 
 its members under penalty of eternal perdition as any 
 part of the Apostle's creed ? One corollary from this pro- 
 position is that, in the eyes of the Pope, and consequently 
 of every consistent Roman Catholic, our Queen, and every 
 heretical sovereign, is a mere usurper who has no right to 
 the crown, and that a Roman Catholic, who having the 
 means and the opportunities, fails to do whatever he can 
 toward putting her down, or forcing her to submit to the 
 Pope, is guilty of mortal sin. Even an orthodox sovereign 
 who willingly tolerates the exercise of any heterodox wor- 
 ship, or refuses to exterminate all heretics within his 
 dominions, incurs the like condemnation. Do not sup- 
 pose that there is the slightest exaggeration in this. 
 When Antonelli, who himself was perfectly aware of the 
 truth, was pressed by the French and Austrian Ministers 
 with this objection to the decree, all he could say was 
 that they need not make themselves uneasy ; all that the 
 Pope wanted was the recognition of his right ; but this 
 being once admitted, he would exercise the utmost dis- 
 cretion and lenity in the use of his power. That was the 
 best comfort he could afford. 
 
 " There are circumstances within the range of possi-
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 259 
 
 bility in which the most thoughtless might .be led to feel 
 the gravity of the question in its bearing on our own 
 affairs. Everybody knows that the Church of England 
 may any day be disestablished. Some think that it cer- 
 tainly will, and that it is only a question of time, and that 
 a short one. Supposing this event to happen, I appre- 
 hend that the obligation of the sovereign to be a member 
 of the Church of England must cease. 
 
 " And there would arise the question whether he might 
 not be a member of the Church of Rome. This has now 
 become identical with the question whether the throne 
 may be filled by one who acknowledges himself to be the 
 Pope's subject in all matters spiritual and temporal. That, 
 I think, must be admitted to be a practical question. If 
 the parties were pretty evenly balanced, it might easily 
 give occasion to the fiercest of civil wars. 
 
 " Ever}^ Roman Catholic is now bound to believe that 
 the proceedings of the Inquisition, having been repeatedly 
 and constantly hallowed by the sanction and explicit 
 injunctions of the popes, are in perfect harmony with the 
 principles of natural equity and with the teaching of the 
 gospel, and that they afford a perfect model for our 
 imitation. The proceedings against witches, in which so 
 many thousands of lives were sacrificed to what is now 
 very generally believed to be a delusion, received the like 
 sanction, and it has thus become matter of faith that 
 instead of a delusion it is a fact as certain as any truth of 
 the gospel. 
 
 " It is indeed much to be hoped that the Duke of Nor- 
 folk and his party are profoundly ignorant of the tenets to 
 which they are pledged. Probably their chief object is to 
 express their veneration for the Pope and their s}Tiipathy 
 with his misfortunes. 
 
 "But here again it is to be hoped that they do not 
 suspect how sadly their veneration and sympathy are mis-
 
 260 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 placed. The Pope himself no longer stands in the position 
 which he occupied in general estimation before the Council. 
 Though he has gained his object, his character as a man 
 has been irreparably damaged by his behaviour during the 
 session of the Council. Previously he had been, I think, 
 rather a favourite with Protestants. They liked to be 
 presented to him, and spoke of him as an amiable, excel- 
 lent person, some even as ' saintly.' Intellectually, indeed, 
 he has always stood very low. 
 
 " Though no pope for many centuries has introduced so 
 many new definitions of doctrines, few have ever been so 
 ignorant of theology. It was only through family interest 
 that he passed his examination for holy orders. If he had 
 not been a Mastai, the future infallible doctor would have 
 been plucked. And he has never had need to study 
 theology since he became j^ope, for he has lived in the 
 constant belief that he enjoys a special inspiration of the 
 Virgin Mary, which more than supj)lies the place of study. 
 At the time when the question of tradition was under 
 discussion, and the bishops of the minority were urging 
 the contradiction between the new dogma and the tradition 
 of the Church, he repeatedly affirmed ' La tradizione son 
 io.' This reminds one of Louis XIV.'s celebrated ' L'Etat, 
 c'est moi,' but it goes far beyond that. For what it means 
 is that it depended upon his pleasure Avhether a thing had 
 happened or not. When to this is added that he was in 
 the habit of saying that he felt his own infallibility, it 
 must be owned that in him ignorance and superstition are 
 
 combined in a degree rarely equalled But still he 
 
 might have been an amiable, excellent man. Unfortunately, 
 in his passionate anxiety to carry his object, he cast away all 
 restraints of decency, self-respect, and common humanity, 
 treating the bishops of the opposition as his personal 
 enemies with a tyranny verging upon brutality 
 
 " My P.S. has become a volume."
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 261 
 
 Akergwili Palace, 10 April, 1871. 
 
 " .... No doubt the Pope does not pretend to be 
 sinless ; on the contrary, he is rather fond of publicly 
 owning himself to be (like Peter) ' a sinful man,' as if 
 in answer to those who pretend that sinfulness excludes 
 infallibility, whereas he professes to be equally conscious 
 of both. If he was incapable of sin why should he need 
 a confessor ? Nor again does he pretend to be infallible 
 in all matters. He would freely admit that he might mis- 
 take a false diamond for a true one and the like. But 
 what he asserts is that, in his capacity of Pope, or supreme 
 Doctor of the Church, he speaks with the infallibility of 
 Divine inspiration on every question of faith and morals ; 
 and the latter head includes every conceivable relation of 
 public and private Hfe, everything that in any way con- 
 cerns the state and the family, and, observe, he is the 
 supreme infallible judge as to what does or does not con- 
 cern them ; so that no such question can be exempt from 
 his absolute jurisdiction. 
 
 " Now, under the recent decree, no one can dispute or 
 attempt to narrow this claim, either in the abstract or in 
 its practical application, without peril of eternal perdition. 
 
 " Do not imagine that these are points in debate only 
 between Eomanists and Protestants, in which, therefore, the 
 latter may be misled by prejudice or ignorance. Romanists 
 are, indeed, now divided among themselves as to the Pope's 
 right to the infallibility which he claims, but there is no 
 dispute among them as to the extent of the authority with 
 which he is invested by it if it really belongs to him. How 
 glad Antonelli would have been if, instead of comforting 
 the foreign ministers with the hope that the Pontitf would 
 wield his authority mildly, he had been able to assure them 
 that they were mistaken as to its nature, and that it did 
 not reach to temporal concerns.
 
 262 BISHOP thielwall's 
 
 " I wish I could get you to read a work called ' Quirinus.' 
 It is a scries of letters written from Rome by a German 
 Roman Catholic wlio was present from the opening to the 
 end of the Council, and in constant intimate communica- 
 tion with a great many of its most distinguished members. 
 They were first published in a German newsj)aper, and have 
 since been collected in a little volume. I found them most 
 delicious reading. They have been translated into English, 
 probably by the translator of ' Janus ; ' and, if so, very 
 well. Unless they were quite spoiled in the translation I 
 feel sure that you would enjoy them very much ; and when 
 you have read them you will no longer be at the mercy 
 of Manning's organs." '" 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 22 April, 1871. 
 
 "P.S. — I am very thankful for the geological com- 
 munication, though I am not sufficiently acquainted 
 with recent theories on the subject of the Red Sandstone 
 fully to appreciate the effect of Mr. Ramsay's observa- 
 tion — which is equivalent to a discovery — on the views 
 
 7 Jiuie, 1871. 
 **'.... It is Eoman Catholic theologians who have made the * fuss ' 
 ahout the Infallibility Decree. No Protestant can add anj'thing to that 
 which DiJllinger, v. Schulte, and Froschammer have written. None have had 
 such strong motives for a thorough investigation of the subject, and very few 
 sufficient learning for the task." 
 
 2 Auff., 1871. 
 
 " .... I observed a letter from Eome in the Fall Mall, giving an account 
 of an allocution addi-essed by the Pope to I forget exactly what audience, in 
 which he betrayed a most wonderful ignorance on the subject of his own 
 infaUibihty. He explained to his hearers that it was a mistake to supjiose that 
 his power resulted from his infalUbihty, and was not based on the authority 
 vested in him as the Vicar of Christ. He evidently was not aware that nobody 
 had ever made this mistake, but that the connexion between his claim to infal- 
 libihty and his claim to universal dominion was that he could not claim infal- 
 libility for himself without attributing it to his predecessors, and therefore, 
 among others, to Boniface VIII. , in the most extravagant of all his jDretensions. 
 
 " .... A man is only half a Eoman Catholic who has not a spu'itual 
 director, and less than half if he does not conform to that direction "
 
 LETTERS TO A FEIEND. 263 
 
 now generally prevalent. But what he says about the 
 coal treasures is a great comfort to me. But is there 
 not still a question about the expense of working at great 
 depths ? 
 
 " Nobody can be more interested in the correctness of 
 Dr. 's views on reading than myself. 
 
 " My practice is quite the reverse of his. My reading 
 covers a pretty large area, but at many points is very 
 superficial, and, therefore, I am not an impartial judge. I 
 cannot, however, assent to his opinion — as you state it. 
 But if the maxim runs, ' Better read one good book eight 
 times than many once,' I should need to know something 
 more about the many. Are they supposed to be also good ? 
 And if so, on the same or different subjects ? I should 
 quite agree that it is better to study one good book on 
 any subject accurately than to hurry through many, even 
 though equally good, on the same subject. But if, after I 
 had read one book seven times, the question was whether 
 I should give it an eighth reading or should skim over 
 the work of another writer, though of inferior merit, on 
 the same subject, I should have no doubt that my know- 
 ledge of the subject and my capacity of judging would be 
 more enlarged by a hasty perusal of the new book, and 
 that I should understand the first better than if I read it 
 again. I suspect that a man of one or very few books 
 may be familiar with their contents, but be little the better 
 for them for want of means of comparing different views 
 with one another. 
 
 " A person who was a very great reader and hard thinker 
 told me that he never took up a book except with the view 
 of making himself master of some subject which he was 
 studying, and that while he was so engaged he made all 
 his reading converge to that point. In this way he might 
 read parts of many books, but not a single one ' from end to 
 end.' This I take to be an excellent method of study, but
 
 264 BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 one which imphes the command of many books as well as 
 of much leisure. 
 
 " It must, however, be remembered that superficial is a 
 relative term. There is hardly a department, however 
 narrow, in the whole range of human knowledge that is 
 not absolutely unfathomable and inexhaustible, and its 
 chief adepts would be the first to own or proclaim that no 
 human life is long enough to make any one completely 
 master of it. This holds not only with regard to the higher 
 ologies — theology, philology, physiology, geology, zoology, 
 &c. — but even to their minutest ramifications. Lives, I 
 believe, have been spent and may be spent on such pur- 
 suits as numismatics and heraldry, w^hich are branches of 
 history, and involve a great extent of historical reading ; 
 but I also believe that the same may be said of some of 
 the minutest compartments of animal and vegetable life. 
 The study can never be exhausted. But would a life be 
 well spent in the acquisition of a relatively profound know- 
 ledge of beetles or grasses, or coins or blazonry, to the 
 exclusion of everything else ? 
 
 " Yet I think Dr. • 's theory logically leads to this. 
 
 " Miss naturally looks at the question from the 
 
 standj)oint (as Germans say) of her own art. She does 
 not set much value on facts. How should she when she 
 knows how easily they are made, having spent the best 
 part of her life in making them ? (A poet, you knoAV, is 
 literally a maker). As a moral philosojjher (which is her 
 proper profession) she makes little account of anything 
 but the ' condition of mind which results from reading,' 
 which she evidently thinks depends very little on facts. 
 This is perfectly true as to the moral condition or bent of 
 the will, but seems very questionable as to the intellectual 
 condition or possession of knowledge. 
 
 " I believe that nothing is forgotten, so that the remem- 
 brance of it may not be revived. How often do scenes
 
 LETTERS TO A FEIEND. 265 
 
 and words of more than sixty years ago recur to my mind 
 with the vividness of impressions of yesterday ! 
 
 " Was it not Admiral Beaufort who was once very nearly 
 drowned, and while under water had a vision of his whole 
 past life in all its details ? 
 
 " My guests have just left for Cheltenham, and I am in 
 the agony of preparation for my own departure." 
 
 1, Regent Street, 8 May, 1871. 
 
 " . , . . You need not apologize for having spoken dis- 
 respectfully of metaphysics — that is of English meta- 
 physics. When you said they were ' at a stand-still,' you 
 said no more than the Germans and the French have been 
 saying for a century. . . . I do not admit the fact, though 
 there was an interval, after the close of the Scotch school, 
 during which the study might be said to be stagnant. But 
 in the last generation there has been — whether happily or 
 otherwise — a great stirring of metaphysical activity ; and 
 I agree with the Germans and the French in the opinion 
 that its cessation would imply a very low state of intel- 
 lectual culture. I have always considered the j)roblems 
 of metaphysics as at once the highest and the most im- 
 portant and practical of all to which the human mind can 
 apply itself. But no doubt this assumes that it is of some 
 importance to a man to have some principles of belief and 
 practice, and that there is a difference between truth and 
 falsehood, right and wrong, which is worth while to 
 inquire about. That the study is beset wdth great diffi- 
 culties, does not seem to me to prove that it is worthless, 
 but only that it must always be confined to a few thinkers. 
 It must, however, be remembered that all men are meta- 
 physicians, all, in every action of their lives, are governed 
 by metaphysical beliefs, and that the only difference
 
 266 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 between one and another is, that the great mass are 
 wholly unconscious of the origin and ground of the 
 opinions which they have received through tradition, while 
 a few understand what they hold and why they hold it, 
 and to these it is given to sway the opinions of others ; 
 for infinite good or evil " 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 15 May, 1871. 
 
 " .... It was absolutely impossible for Socrates or 
 Plato so much as to conceive the nature of the problems 
 which now occupy the minds of metaphysicians through 
 their ignorance of physiology. They might have been 
 able to understand the leading propositions in Manning's 
 paper on the ' Relation of the Will to Thought ; ' but 
 Dr. Carpenter's article in the ConteTnporary on the 
 ' Physiology of the Will ' would have opened to them a 
 new world, in which they would have felt themselves 
 dazed and hel^^less as infants 
 
 "If it was once resolved to admit ladies into the Meta- 
 physical Society, I am sure that Miss Cobbe would be 
 elected by acclamation. But I do not know whether she 
 would like to be the only lady, or how many could be 
 found like her." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 17 May, 1871. 
 
 " . . . . I never saw the Westminster Gazette, and the 
 specimen you give of it does not tempt me to become 
 better acquainted with it. Though I believe it is Man- 
 ning's organ, it does not seem to be designed for a very 
 high class of readers. It would a2:)pear from your extract 
 that the writer of the letter you quote imagined that he 
 was saying something not generally known or understood
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 267 
 
 when he remarked that ' it is ex-cathedra pontifical 
 decrees on faith and morals, not particular acts of popes, 
 that are binding on the consciences of Catholics.' 
 
 " How many may be ignorant of this it is, of course, 
 impossible for me to say ; but it is certain that it was 
 never denied by any one who knew the meaning of the 
 words, and that it is a general statement, which leaves 
 every objection to the dogma of Papal infallibility just 
 where it was. The most atrocious of all the sayings and 
 doings of the popes are those which are most clearly 
 stamped with the character of ex-cathedra declarations. It 
 was ex-cathedra, and with all the solemnity that could be 
 imparted to a pontifical decree, that Boniface VIII. 
 declared it ' necessary to salvation for every human crea- 
 ture that he should be subject to the Pope.' It was 
 ex-cathedra that Alexander VI. and Nicholas VI. claimed 
 (and exercised) the right of giving away America and 
 Africa to the Kings of Spain and Portugal, and Hadrian IV. 
 that of bestowing Ireland as a fief on our Henry II. It 
 was ex-cathedra that pope after pope claimed the right of 
 deposing kings and releasing their subjects from their 
 oath of obedience. It was ex-cathedra that Urban II. 
 pronounced that the killing of an excommunicated person 
 was not a murder, but at the worst an offence to be expi- 
 ated by a penance. It was ex-cathedra that Innocent IV. 
 extended the penalties of heresy to all aiders and abettors 
 of heretics, and to their children and childi^ns children. 
 This, observe by the way, is one of the most odious and 
 iniquitous features in the procedure of the Inquisition — 
 worse than the brutal ferocity of its tortures — and which 
 this pope proclaimed to be just and right. The ex-cathedra 
 dodge has been fully exposed in a work which, unfortu- 
 nately, you cannot read, being in German, by v. Schulte, 
 professor of canon law in the university of Prague, a 
 zealous Eoman Catholic. 
 
 3
 
 268 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 "The writer in the Westminster Gazette has, I see, 
 dwelt much on the tu quoque argument. Did not Pro- 
 testants also commit judicial murders on witches and 
 heretics ? No doubt they did, and they may confess it, 
 not indeed wholly without shame, as regards themselves, 
 but quite so as regards their Roman Catholic accusers. It 
 is true they inherited the delusion about witchcraft which 
 had been handed down to them from the dark ages ; but 
 by degrees they shook it off, and it has been long univer- 
 sally exploded among them ; while the writer in the West- 
 minster Gazette, who reproaches them with it, himself 
 adheres to it, and defends it, as ' warranted by Scripture 
 and tradition.' 
 
 " Still less have Protestants any need to cry for mercy 
 on account of their share in the guilt of religious persecu- 
 tion as against Romanists. They must lament it deeply 
 in itself, and acknowledge its criminal absurdity. But 
 they may fairly say that by far the greater part of the 
 responsibility rests, not with them, but with the popes, 
 who for a series of ages inculcated the duty of religious 
 persecution by their doctrine and example, and imbued 
 the mind and heart of Christendom with a taint from 
 which it could but slowly recover. Here again the differ- 
 ence between Romanists and Protestants is, that while the 
 latter unanimously profess to abhor persecution, and com- 
 monly do so, the Papal Church to this hour condemns 
 religious toleration as a sin " 
 
 Abekgwili Palace, 7 June, 1871. 
 
 " .... I read Miss Cobbe's article in Macmillan with 
 great pleasure. I do not know how to answer your ques- 
 tion about moral sense in sleep. But it striltes me that I 
 can remember dreams in which there was some exercise of
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 269 
 
 moral judgment. I am afraid there lies at the bottom of 
 every human nature something which will not bear being 
 brought up to the top and exposed to the light 
 
 " I believe has a theory that the use of the cross 
 
 as a symbol was of late introduction. My own impres- 
 sion as to that is the other way. But I do not think that 
 the caricature of the Crucified One makes one way or the 
 other. I do not see that it was meant to ridicule the 
 respect felt by Christians for the Cross. It was only 
 levelled at the person who hung upon it. 
 
 " I follow the Tichborne case with some interest, but, 
 unluckily, I did not attend to it in its earlier stages, and 
 have not a clear idea of the story. One thing only seems 
 evident, that the Claimant is a wretched animal, and that, 
 unless the defendant is quite a monster, it is most desir- 
 able for the interests of society that he should gain his 
 cause. I have no notion who it is that backs the other, 
 or how his expenses are to be paid if he loses. 
 
 " I must not say a word about Paris. It is too hideous 
 and tragical, and big with an endless succession of like 
 evils. 
 
 " No friend of an Angola kitten would bring it within 
 reach of my Lion, who is a lamb when unprovoked, but 
 would not bear the sight of a rival. The house, now so 
 quiet, would become a scene of swearing, cattering, and 
 wauling. I prefer a really good tabby to all Angolas, and 
 to everything else but a tortoise-shell, which, in its perfec- 
 tion, is the rarest of all. I once had one which was abso- 
 lutely faultless, and as amiable as it was beautiful. The 
 dear creature was killed by a monster of a dog who came 
 into the house during church-time " 
 
 s 2
 
 270 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 22 June, 1871. 
 
 " .... I am scratching this in a desperate hurry and 
 flurry of preparation for my approaching departure. For 
 the first time in my hfe I am sorry that I am not in 
 London. I have been asked to attend Grote's funeral, 
 which is to take place on Saturday in Westminster Abbey, 
 and I should certainly have gone up to-morrow for the 
 purpose if I had not been engaged to preach at the Train- 
 ing College. Grote was, I think, the oldest friend I had 
 left. He was a little my senior at school. His intellectual 
 greatness was brought out in higher relief to those who 
 knew the man by the simplicity and amiableness of his 
 character. The last time I saw him was at dinner at the 
 Dean of Westminster's, where Dickens also was present. 
 On a former occasion I remember his telling me how 
 earnestly he hoped that he might not survive his capacity 
 for work. If he had but lived as long as he was able to 
 work he would most likely have survived all his contem- 
 poraries." ^^' 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 2 Au^., 1871. 
 
 " . . . . Instead of taking it for granted that I must 
 have read already all that you read, you may very safely 
 take it for granted that of whatever new books fall in your 
 way I have read none or nothing but the title-page. 
 
 " The time is rapidly approaching when my reading will 
 be absolutely confined to books relating to my work. As 
 it is, I have scarcely time to dip in the most superficial 
 manner into periodicals. I cannot allow more than about 
 ten minutes to the dailies. It is rather a comfort to me 
 to observe that the Revue now contains so little that is 
 
 * Bisliop Thirlwall was buried in Grote's grave, 3 Aug., 1875.
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 271 
 
 generally interesting, being almost entirely devoted to the 
 French questions of the day. It is very sad to find 
 myself deprived for the rest of my life of my chief source 
 of enjoyment " 
 
 Aberqwili Palace, 11 Bee, 1871. 
 
 " . . . . The loss of the Prince of Wales would be a 
 most serious national calamity. It is also to me sad to 
 think of his being cut off in the prime of life and the 
 fulness of all the gifts of fortune. I hear he is very much 
 beloved by all who know him " 
 
 16 Lec.y 1871. 
 " .... In your list of long-lived people how came you 
 to omit Dr. Eouth of Magdalene and Sir Moses Montefiore, 
 who, though 86 (or 88), telegraphs to Damascus (was it 
 not ?) to get prayers offered in the synagogue (dear good 
 old Jew) for the Prince of Wales ?...."
 
 1872.
 
 AbbrqWili, 31 Jan>y 1872. 
 
 " You have been a sad transgressor. The midnight 
 hour, when you ought to have been fast asleep or lapped 
 in pleasant dreams, was not appropriate to such an exer- 
 cise of self-torment. Having been told, and having your- 
 self, admitted that writing does you harm, you nevertheless 
 — by the light of the midnight lamp — pen a letter of two 
 sheets. And for what purpose ? To set before me the 
 impropriety of my neglecting to take proper care of myself, 
 and to exhort me to abstain from over-working myself. 
 
 " Never, I think, did moralist or satirist produce so apt 
 an illustration of the propensity of mankind to criticize 
 what they find amiss in the conduct of others, while they 
 overlook their own faults and shortcomings of the same 
 kind hidden in the bag which is thrown over their 
 shoulders. 
 
 " But what is most shocking is that in the hour of 
 darkness, when all manner of spectres go abroad, you have 
 made an inroad into a region which you know is rigidly 
 tabooed by me — speculation on the state of my health and 
 sanitary and dietary prescriptions, all grounded on total 
 and inevitable absence of information and consequent 
 illusion as to the circumstances of the case. There is 
 sometliing so droll in the idea of my regulating my habits 
 at the request of another person, against my own experi- 
 ence and convictions, that as you are not alive to it I do 
 not know how to find words to express it. Suffice it to
 
 276 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 say that, if ever I abdicate the control of my own regime 
 it will be to commit it to some professional adviser in 
 whom I feel confidence ; but that I hold myself immeasur- 
 ably more competent than all the rest of mankind — and 
 here I cannot make even you an exception — to manage 
 for myself 
 
 " How prone we are to generalise from particular and 
 accidental cases ! All your affliction has arisen out of the 
 slightness of my luncheon, which, as they were to dine 
 early at Court y GoUen, I felt to be quite needless or 
 worse so late in the afternoon. But this is connected with 
 
 another larger question Though the evils which 
 
 arise from excess of drinking are far greater than those 
 which arise from over-eating, I believe that, in the higher 
 and middle classes at least, more lives are shortened by 
 over-eating — as most men eat about twice as much as is 
 good for them — than by drunkenness. 
 
 " You ought to take warning from my errors I 
 
 had fancied that you would give yourself a holiday from 
 writing, but above all from the still more odious labour of 
 dictation, and would have taken a delightful spell of read- 
 ing Then you make yourself unhappy with the 
 
 fancy that the time I was with you might have been better 
 spent in cross-examining me. Would you be surprised to 
 hear that if I had my choice how to pass a perfectly deli- 
 cious hour, I would lie on a sofa, while you told ghost 
 stories to an accompaniment of soft music ? . . . . 
 
 " I absolve you this time, but do not transgress again. 
 
 " How strange that you should forget that my work 
 depends upon my letters, which do not depend upon my 
 will."
 
 LETTERS TO A FEIEND. 277 
 
 Abeegwili, 16 May^ 1872. 
 
 " I hope this will find you safely restored to your fire- 
 side, as it is there rather than out of doors that you will 
 probably find — — • most enjoyable. 
 
 " Nothing could be more delightful than your letter, 
 with the exception of that part in which you went astray 
 on forbidden ground. You know in general that I avoid 
 all topics relating to the state of my health and rules of 
 living, but, perhaps, you are hardly aware of my rigid 
 inflexibihty on this point. To form an adequate notion of 
 it you must collect all the synonyms of wilfulness, obsti- 
 nacy, stubbornness, perverseness, doggedness, mulishness, 
 pigheadedness, and all the images of what is most unyield- 
 ing in nature and history — flint, steel, Aberdeen granite, 
 laws of the Medes and Persians, the Pope, the deaf adder 
 that refuses to hear the voice of the charmer — and per- 
 sonify all in me. You would then see how little I am 
 likely to be moved by the most pathetic entreaties and 
 the most forcible argument to give up the supreme con- 
 trol of my habits and hygienic practices. 
 
 " I will, however, go so far as to say that your tAVO 
 friends know nothing about the matter, but have evidently 
 been misled by some erroneous report, and that I am quite 
 as well as when you saw me at Llanover, and not practising 
 any ascetic austerities. 
 
 " I am afraid that after all you left town without seeing 
 the Exhibition. There was nothing in the report of the 
 dinner worth reading, unless it was the speech of the Duke 
 of Cambridge, in which he broached the delightful theory 
 that every exhibition surpasses its predecessor as regularly 
 as a boy grows from year to year. 
 
 " I can hardly believe that Manning would acknowledge 
 the doctrine attributed to him in your anecdote, as it 
 seems entirely to ignore the efficacy of sacerdotal conse-
 
 278 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 cration, by whicli, as I heard it stated in a French sermon, 
 the priest, who can make God, stands even above the 
 Blessed Virgin, who only gave Him birth. 
 
 " I am sorry that I do not know who wrote ' Olrig 
 Grange.' I hope you are reading Miss Thackeray's novel 
 in the Cornhill, and a story which promises to be very 
 curious, called * The Pearl and the Emerald.' . . . ." 
 
 Abergwili, 4 June, 1872. 
 
 " Your last letter is very pleasant, but unusually tanta- 
 lising. Let me give you a piece of advice, which will save 
 you trouble, and will bring great gain to me. Whenever 
 you feel a doubt whether you have or have not told me 
 anything which you wish me to know, always take it for 
 granted that you have not, and let me hear it at once. 
 
 " There is not one of the things about which you 
 express a doubt that I ever heard of before. And now 
 • — unless your memory can keep that which would cer- 
 tainly escape any other — the chances are that I never 
 shall. ... I suppose you cannot have read ' Middle- 
 march,' as you say nothing about it. It stands quite 
 alone. As one only just moistens one's lips with an 
 exquisite liqueur, to keep the taste as long as j^ossible in 
 one's mouth, I never read more than a single chapter of 
 'Middlemarch' in the evening, dreading to come to the last, 
 when I must wait two months for a renewal of the 
 pleasure. The depth of humour has certainly never been 
 surpassed in English literature. If there is ever a shade 
 too much learning, that is Lewes's fault "
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 279 
 
 Aberowili, 6 July, 1872. 
 
 ". . . . Your letter has been forwarded to me from 
 London, where I only stayed two nights. The occasion 
 of my going up was simply to reply to an attack made 
 upon my speech ''' of February by the Bishop of Winchester 
 in May, when I happened to be absent. It was absolutely 
 necessary for me to take the opportunity of the next meet- 
 ing of Convocation to do so. But nothing could be more 
 inconvenient and disagreeable, and I am still occupied with 
 the correction of the proofs of my speech, which is to 
 appear in the Guardian next week " 
 
 Abergwili, 16 July, 1872. 
 
 " .... If you have made a vow to read my speech I 
 am afraid you will find more than you bargained for. It 
 was delivered under difficulties both internal and external 
 — the former arising from a bad night, the latter from 
 interruptions, which, but for the protection of the Arch- 
 bishop, would have prevented me from saying some of the 
 chief things I had to say. It seems to have been thought 
 that, though it was quite proper for Mr. Burgon to 
 denounce me from his pulpit behind my back, it was 
 wrong for me to make a remark upon him in Convoca- 
 tion which he was not present to answer It was 
 
 Sir George Lewis who made that philosophical remark 
 about life and its pleasures. It was the simple expression 
 of his own lifelong experience. Yery few other men could 
 have said the same thing sincerely. To him the business 
 of life was all that there was attractive in it. But I am 
 not sure whether he was incapable of enjoying light read- 
 ing. If so I admire rather than envy him. But I find 
 
 • On the Athanasian Creed, now published in the " Remains," iii. 247.
 
 280 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 my time for reading of every kind woefully contracted. I 
 observed that you had not yet read the last part of the 
 'Earthly Paradise.' I have not myself yet cut it open, 
 though I think it must be two years ago since I was 
 delighting myself with the thought of reading it under a 
 tree. Yesterday would have been admirably suited for it. 
 I hope St. Swithin is not capable of showing a smiling 
 face, and then sending a spell of bad weather " 
 
 Abergwili, 23 July, 1872. 
 
 " You know that your pretended ' revelation ' is nothing 
 more than a guess and a fish-hook. But I have no 
 objection to admit the fact. What is amazing is the 
 calmness with which you propound the most astounding 
 paradoxes as indisputable truths. Your hypothesis is 
 directly in the teeth both of reason and experience. How 
 far one's sleep depends upon one's dinner may admit of a 
 doubt, though it is well known that sleep supplies the 
 place of food, and I believe the only effect of an empty 
 stomach is to make the sleeper dream of a feast — ' and lo ! 
 he awakes and is hungry.' But that sleep depends on 
 the previous luncheon is the most extravagant of all 
 suppositions. 
 
 " When I went up to town last I did as I had done 
 scores of times before, without the smallest detriment to 
 my night's rest ; and when I went up on the 8rd of May, 
 in consequence of the transition from broad to narrow 
 gauge, I was thirteen hours on the road, and, you will 
 shudder to hear, tasted nothing from breakfast until eleven 
 at night. But I did not sleep a bit the worse 
 
 "It is a sad pity that you do not travel oftener with 
 bishops. You would bring out all their good qualities, 
 and improve them. I have no doubt that I rose in my
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 281 
 
 brother of 's estimation wlien ho saw how warmly 
 
 you took my part. If you had travelled together a little 
 longer it is very likely that you would have converted 
 him. What a grand thing it would be if you were shut 
 up with Burgon ! " "^^ 
 
 Abergwili, 6 Aug., 1872. 
 
 " . . . . Pray tell me how you contrive to burn letters 
 at this time of the year. Bad as the weather has been 
 we have not yet returned to fires, and the only one I 
 know of in the house is in the kitchen, a sanctuary into 
 which I never intrude " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 12 Aug., 1872. 
 
 " I have forwarded the slips to Mr. Edwardes. I read 
 the description of the ifestivities with much pleasure, and 
 was truly glad that an occasion which can never return 
 should have passed with such complete success. I suppose 
 every one felt how much it was owing to the presiding 
 intelligence. t The organizing of such a fete is really a great 
 work of art — a Kunststiick, as Germans call it — which it 
 is given to few to plan and execute. Moltke himself could 
 not have done better, possibly not so well. 
 
 " I was very much pleased with the heir's Welsh speech. 
 
 19 Juhj, 1872. 
 
 * " Pray do not hate Burgon. He is an excellent man, very much liked 
 by everybody who knows him." 
 
 t The festivities upon which the Bishop thus commented were those 
 which took place at Llanover on the coming of age of Lady Llanovcr's 
 eldest grandson, Captain Ivor Herbert, of Llanarth, on which occasion Lady 
 Llanover organized and carried out a series of entertainments the details of 
 which elicited the above remarks and the deserved tribute to the " presiding 
 intelligence" of the hostess, the approval of the Welsh speech of the heir, and 
 the deep appreciation of the Welsh motto of his ancient house: *^ Asgre 
 Ian diogel cipher chen " (Safe is the owner of a cleai conscience).
 
 282 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 .... What a glorious motto is that of his house ! and 
 what a fine word, asgre. 
 
 " I had never met with it before, and it seems to have 
 gone entirely out of use. Dr. Pugh gives the motto as the 
 only example, calling it an adage. But I suppose the right 
 translation of asgre Ian is a clean breast. 
 
 " You may depend upon your former letter being safely 
 committed to the flames, though I have not yet done so, 
 and, perhaps, shall wait until I can say, Ha ! ha ! I have 
 seen the fire. The grates are now covered with splendid 
 papers, and I am afraid of a conflagration. Also, I must 
 read the letter a few times over again before I part with it 
 for ever." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 21 Aug., 1872. 
 
 "The housemaid must have known that I wanted to 
 burn your letter, for, with no apparent reason, she one 
 evening last week removed the decorations of the grate 
 and lighted a fire, which for any other purpose was both 
 unnecessary and inconvenient. I took advantage of it to 
 
 consume the record All now is restored to its 
 
 summer dress. 
 
 " A thunderstorm is just beginning — I hope the last of 
 this strange season. Pray come if you possibly can." 
 
 Abergwili Palace {undated), ? Sept., 1872. 
 
 "It is quite natural that when you bring sunshine into 
 a house you should find everything bright in it. 
 
 " Your advice as to exercise and other matters is judi- 
 cious in itself, but proceeds upon assumptions which are 
 not in harmony with the facts of the case, as to which you 
 are very imperfectly informed.
 
 LETTEKS TO A FRIEXD. 283 
 
 "You exhort me to try an experiment which would 
 certainly cost much precious time, not only without a fair 
 prospect of success, but with a certainty of failure. It is 
 now within a few days of a twelvemonth since my appetite 
 suddenly left me. After that I spent a month by the sea- 
 side for the purpose of recovering it, doing the very things 
 you recommend, but not only failed to receive the slightest 
 benefit, but found my appetite — I should say my power of 
 eating — constantly growing weaker, and almost every kind 
 of food more and more disagreeable. It is extremely 
 
 unpleasant, as it compels me to keep at home But 
 
 I beheve all physiologists agree that after a person has 
 reached my age the amount of food on which one can live 
 and thrive becomes smaller and smaller ; in other words, 
 the less he eats the longer he lives. 
 
 " There is another physiological fact which is evidently 
 new to you. It is that the exercise of speaking is very 
 beneficial to the health. 
 
 " John Wesley, when he was preaching from morning 
 till night, used to say that no life was healthier than that 
 of a preacher. Eeading is, perhaps, in most cases a greater 
 exertion than preaching (extempore). But much depends 
 on the management of the voice. I was never in the least 
 fatigued by the dehvery of the longest of my charges, which 
 occuj)ied, I am afraid, four hours. My next will, for various 
 reasons, be very much shorter 
 
 " Mrs. C delivered me your message about Yaughan 
 
 the Silurist. I Avas led to look at the preface, and saw that 
 you must have growled over some parts of it. I was not 
 before aware that the Herbert motto is also that of the 
 Yaughans, sadly mistranslated, so as to make gldn an 
 epithet, not of the asgre, but of the perclien "
 
 284 LETTEES TO A EEIEND. 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 29 Nov., 1872. 
 
 " . . . . Just to set you agoing I will say a word about 
 the ' Gates Ajar/ w^hich I read after the Visitation. I 
 remember you wished to know my opinion of it ; but I am 
 not quite sure whether you meant me to keep it or it was 
 a present made to yourself But that would imply that 
 there was some one beside yourself who could have written 
 the envoi, which I do not believe. 
 
 " However this may be, I was exceedingly entertained 
 with it, partly as a delightful picture of American life, and 
 still more by its view of the future state. With regard to 
 this, however, I can only speak relatively. How near it 
 approaches the truth I should not venture to say ; but I 
 am quite sure that it comes infinitely nearer to it than 
 that which is represented by Deacon Quirk, and that it 
 would be an immense gain if it superseded that of ' con- 
 gregations which ne'er break up, and Sabbaths which have 
 no end.' 
 
 " The defect seems to be that it is too purely Epicurean, 
 and that it offers little more than a continuation of earthly 
 enjoyment Avithout action or progress. There is a larger 
 and higher view of the subject in Stopford Brooke's first 
 sermon on Immortality. Do you know them ? He seems 
 to me the best of all the London preachers to read ; but I 
 never heard him "
 
 1873. 
 
 T 2
 
 Abergwixi Palace, 10 Jan., 1873. 
 
 " .... I SEE tliat I cannot sympathize with you in 
 your complaints of the weather. It has been everything 
 that I enjoy most at this season of the year. Howling 
 winds, pattering rain, and floods turning the valley into a 
 lake, are to me delightful. It has, therefore, been a great 
 pleasure to me to find that it is at least doubtful whether 
 the extraordinary rainfall, if not an unalloyed blessing, has 
 not done more good than harm. That it is mitigating the 
 suffering which winter always brings on great masses of 
 people there can be no doubt ; and therefore, though I 
 suppose I ought not to say so, I have been strongly inclined 
 to side with the opponents of the Archbishop in the 
 controversy about the Prayer, though the truth may lie 
 somewhere midway. 
 
 " I have never received a part of ' Middlemarch' without 
 reading it straight through, and should always have done 
 so in still less time if it had not been a thing which one 
 savours like some exquisite Hqueur. Your fact is curious. 
 I fancied that her physics were all taken from Lewes ; but, 
 perhaps, he has had no opportunity of observing the effects 
 of opium. 
 
 " I knew that you would be ready to tear my MacCoU 
 to pieces if he came in your way. There can be no doubt 
 that he is a very clever man ; but he relics too much on 
 his cleverness for extricating him from the scra23es into 
 which he falls through his astonishing thoughtlessness.
 
 288 • BISHOP THIRL wall's 
 
 " I do not know whether you ever see the Guardian. 
 The last number (the 8 th instant) contains the last notice 
 I mean ever to take of him." 
 
 Abkrgwili Palace, 15 Jari., 1873. 
 
 " For fear I should also forget the Dutch legend I must 
 satisfy your curiosity at once. I never edited any Dutch 
 book ; but in this case it is possible to trace the myth to 
 its source. 
 
 " Some twelve years ago my friend Keightley picked up 
 a Dutch book at a stall, and was so taken with it that he 
 thought it might be worth translating, and sent it to me 
 to have my opinion of it. I also thought it interesting, 
 both as a picture of Dutch country life and as opening 
 glimpses into the working of the Dutch Church. So he 
 was induced to publish a translation of it, with a preface, 
 in which he gave an extract from my letter. I only hope 
 that I did not draw either him or his publisher into a 
 losing speculation. The title of the Dutch work was ' De 
 Pastorij te Mastland ; ' in English, ' The Manse of Mast- 
 land' (should have been Mastland Manse) 
 
 " The deceased Emperor gains, I think, by comparison 
 with his uncle. He was a better, at least not so bad a 
 man, and on the whole, perhaps, did less harm to France, 
 and would probably have done still better if he had had 
 no uncle ; only then he would have been nobody. 
 
 " It is very difficult now to say what cause or principle 
 the young Prince represents, Peace ? War ? The elective 
 or hereditary principle ? And his difficulty will be that he 
 cannot put himself forward in any of these characters with- 
 out alienating a great part of the nation."
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 289 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 25 Jan., 1873. 
 
 " I forwarded the account of Louise Lateau to Mr. C — . 
 It was entirely new to me, though if there is a paper on 
 the subject in Macmillan I probably read it. When yon 
 say you believe in the miracle, is that exactly what you 
 mean ? I should have inferred from your report of the 
 case that you believed the fact, Init not the miracle. That 
 is the ease with myself The lady who describes the state 
 of the patient evidently regards it as the effect of a mira- 
 culous interposition. But this, it appears to me, nobody 
 can have a right to do without a perfect knowledge of the 
 human frame, and of the extent to which it may be affected 
 by the action of the imagination and the will. Such know- 
 ledge, which alone could enable one to draw the line in 
 such a case as this of Lateau, I never pretended to possess, 
 and therefore should have suspended my judgment upon 
 the alleged miracle if I had heard nothing more about it 
 than is contained in the lady's narrative. But as soon as 
 it is ascertained that there are persons who are subject to 
 an abnormal spontaneous effusion of blood there needs no 
 great effort to believe that their imagination, Avhen excited 
 like that of S. Teresa, may determine its locality in con- 
 formity with the sacred wounds. What have I been 
 doing ? I now see that I have been attributing to you 
 what you only say of ' men otherwise sensible.' I ought 
 to have inferred that you do not believe the miracle, 
 though, perhaps, you do believe the fact, which, for my 
 part, I see no reason to doubt. 
 
 " No one without a gift of prophecy or clairvoyance 
 could pretend to say what will be the future of the young 
 Napoleon (you call him Napoleon lY., but I do not find 
 that he has assumed that title, or means to do so until it 
 is conferred on him by a plebiscite). But his future must 
 depend on two unknown things : first, what kind of person
 
 290 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 he turns out ; and, secondly, what are the circumstances in 
 which he will be placed when he comes of age. Only so 
 much may, I think, be safely believed ; that the Bona- 
 partist party will never of itself be strong enough to place 
 him on the throne ; but that if the French are ever brought 
 to believe that the restoration of the Napoleon dpiasty offers 
 the best security for the preservation of order within, and 
 for revenge on Prussia, it will certainly be restored. 
 
 " I think I did read that letter to the Times about 
 spiritualism, and somebody sent me a spiritualist journal ; 
 but I can take nothing of this kind at second-hand. 
 
 " I remember meeting Mrs. Somerville at breakfast at 
 Eogers's, and having some conversation with her about 
 Andersen's description of Roman life, which we agreed in 
 thinking unequalled. She had an extraordinary receptive 
 faculty, but it seems to be questioned whether she extended 
 the borders of science. 
 
 " I do not remember to have ever heard of ' Beunan's 
 Meriasek.'- I should guess that it must have come from 
 Whitley Stokes, as I believe he is in India, and I know of 
 no other great Celtic scholar there, though I was not aware 
 that he had made a sj)ecial study of Cornish literature." 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 12 Feb., 1873. 
 
 " Your kind wishes came at the nick of time — harbingers, 
 I hope, of better days coming. It has been a very cruel 
 and destructive winter. Among our recent losses, none 
 has gone to my heart so much as that of poor dear Sedg- 
 wick. I do not know whether you knew him, or suffi- 
 ciently to appreciate his character. He was a true child 
 of nature and a son of Dent. He will yet live long in 
 many memories, though he has survived almost all his 
 contemporaries
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 291 
 
 " Does history confirm your opinion that we cannot 
 readily think of a Napoleon without a number tacked to 
 his name ? During the late Emperor's first exile nobody 
 thought of calling him by any other title than that of 
 Prince Louis Napoleon, and it seems very doubtful whether 
 he had then made up his mind Avhether he would be the 
 Second or Third of his dynasty. 
 
 " How dreadful was the weather which followed the 
 wet season ! There was no room in the house where I 
 could keep myself warm. How heartily I assented to 
 Michelet's remark in his ' Insect Book:' 'Pour ma part, 
 mes souvenirs d'enfance me disent que le froid est procure- 
 ment un supj)lice ; nulle habitude n'y fait ; la prolonga- 
 tion n'en rend pas I'effet plus doux.' For ' souvenirs 
 d'enfance,' I might read ' sensations de vieillesse.' And 
 then to think how few of my numberless fellow-sufferers 
 could command the same apphances to mitigate their 
 misery ! 
 
 " Did you see the description of the hurricane which 
 swept over Minnesota, coming direct from the North Pole, 
 and burying the whole country in snow ? I believe that 
 our gale belonsfed to the same wave, which was thous^ht to 
 travel at the rate of one hundred miles an hour, and had 
 not quite spent itself before it reached us, lasting fifty 
 hours without interruption. For the present, the misery 
 of cold seems likely to be felt more and more as our 
 supply of coal is reduced, until some mode is discovered to 
 make us independent of those who own and dispense this 
 treasure, as to which their private interest is in direct 
 opposition to that of all the rest of the community. And 
 all this while Ave are exporting millions of tons ! "
 
 292 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 15 Ajiril, 1873. 
 
 " I return your ' Eeminiscences of Knebworth,' whicli I 
 enjoyed very much indeed. They read Hke a scene in 
 * Lothair.' 
 
 " You have, no doubt, reason to say, * every one lives a 
 novel of modern life.' But there are novels and novels. 
 Every old Kensington is a novel, but every novel is not an 
 old Kensington. Some are much better to live than to 
 read. Perhaps, indeed, it is always with private as with 
 public histories — the happiest of hves are the least worth 
 relating. 
 
 " How curious it is that, wherever you go, you conjure 
 up some super or prseter-natural events. The incident, 
 which might have ended tragically, reminded me forcibly 
 of one which happened to myself. Many years ago .... 
 I happened to be at Gladestry, and wishing to inspect an 
 outlying mountain chapel — Rulen or Colva — I set out 
 on foot by myself I was soon in an open country, 
 where neither house nor human being was to be seen. 
 Presently I heard steps behind me, and turning, saw 
 two most ill-looking fellows coming at full speed, a pace 
 between running and walking. I felt myself completely 
 in their power, and turned aside from the middle of 
 the road, to give them as wide a berth as possible. 
 They, however, took no notice of me, but continued their 
 quick march. Half a mile farther on I came to a hamlet, 
 where everybody was at his door or gate looking after my 
 two friends. They had, no doubt, either just made their 
 escape from prison, or were in fear of arrest for something 
 they had just been doing. But I never had the satisfac- 
 tion to hear that either of them had been hanged. 
 
 " Do you think Lord L.'s adventure was before his ' Paul 
 Clifford'?"
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 293 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 3 Sept., 1873. 
 
 " .... It is difficult to say whether it is a greater 
 evil that husband and wife should live aliens to one 
 another, or that the children should be brought up in the 
 faith which sends English men and women, and some not 
 the lowest, but in rank — though in nothing beside — among 
 the noblest of the land, on pilgrimages to declare their 
 belief that Marie Alacoque had her heart torn out by our 
 Lord and enclosed in his own 
 
 "By an odd coincidence the slip of the Hereford Times 
 contains a letter concerning myself. It seems that a man 
 named Haig, who desires to represent Brecon in the Dis- 
 senting interest, has found out that, while carrying away 
 heaps of gold, I have not been in Radnorshire for thirty 
 years ! the fact being, that I have visited it oftener, and 
 seen more of it, than any other county in the diocese, 
 except Carmarthenshire, not merely, as stated in my friend's 
 letter, on confirmations and other ordinary occasions, but 
 on journeys, made chiefly on horseback, for the sole pur- 
 pose of inspecting the churches in the wildest and most 
 sequestered parts of the county." 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 10 Oct., 1873. 
 
 " I hardly know what to say to your kind proposal. I 
 have no doubt that whatever pleases you would interest 
 me ; but, unhappily, that is not the question. You can 
 have no idea of the difficulty I experience in finding time 
 for reading, not merely books of amusement, but works 
 of the greatest importance for practical purj^oses. This 
 scarcity of leisure is one of the great miseries of my 
 
 hfe You do not mention the size of the book. 
 
 But I am loath to decline looking at it, though quite
 
 294 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 Tincertain wlien I could find time to read it. If you send 
 it, would you mind j)utting a slip of paper between the 
 leaves, to guide me to the parts which you found most 
 interesting ? 
 
 " There is a story in Boccaccio of a wicked old usurer of 
 Cahors, who, if his real life had been known, would not 
 have received Christian burial, but before his death he 
 confessed to a priest in such a way as to obtain the 
 
 honours of a saint. I do not laiow how would 
 
 treat you if you were a ' Cat.' ''' But if you made the same 
 confession as you have made to me I should think very 
 ill of him if he imposed any penance but that of being 
 patted and stroked. Could he absolve you from the sin 
 of being too loving and anxious for others, or from that of 
 being too ready to take the lowest room? " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 31 Oct., 1873. 
 
 " I return Miss Wynn's book.t It has been a great 
 success with me — only embittered by compunction for the 
 waste of your time which I caused by my suggestion about 
 the slips. I had scarcely opened it before I saw that I 
 must read it from beginning to end. It belongs to the 
 class which is to me the most attractive of all reading. 
 There is nothing I enjoy so much as the reflection of a 
 large portion of contemporary history on the mind of a 
 person who has moved in the best society. 
 
 " Then she was evidently a very extraordinary person — 
 an independent thinker with a marvellous power of read- 
 ing. I Avas very much struck by the quiet way in which 
 she saj^s (p. 184), ' Bunsen lent me Rothe's "Ethik," 
 
 * Alluding to the playful way in whicli Eoman Catholics speak of them- 
 selves. 
 
 t " Extracts from Letters and Diaries of Charlotte Williams "Wynn." 
 1871. Privately printed and since published.
 
 LETTEES TO A FRIEND. 295 
 
 which I have read with great satisfaction, and divers other 
 theological works.' You cannot fully appreciate this 
 unless you know that Rothe's ' Ethik ' is a book of 
 above 2,000 (reflect, two thousand) closely written pages 
 of very stiff German metaphysics. 
 
 " I also sympathize with her tastes, and share most of 
 her opinions. I am not indeed sure that she would 
 have satisfied Cyril of Alexandria as to her orthodoxy ; 
 but I believe that the apostles would have counted her a 
 
 good Christian She is certainly one of whom Wales 
 
 has reason to be proud. You never said whether you knew 
 her personally. It would do you great good if you fancied 
 her at your side and giving you the advice which you 
 would have been sure to hear from her, with the benefit 
 of her own experience." 
 
 Abeegwili Palace, 1 Bee, 1873. 
 
 " I have read Mill's ' Autobiography,' and was much 
 surprised when I came to the passage concerning myself. 
 I do not think it biasses my judgment of the work, though 
 I find that I think better of it than most of his critics. 
 But I had always considered him as a noble spirit, who 
 had the misfortune of being educated by a narrow-minded 
 pedant, who cultivated his intellectual faculties at the 
 expense of all the rest, yet did not succeed in stifling 
 them. Was there ever a useful life that was not removed 
 sooner or later ? And if that is the universal law, how 
 can it solve the question whether that which happens in 
 conformity to it is ' right ' ? I should myself hesitate to 
 say that whatever is, is best ; but I have a strong faith that 
 it is for the best, and that the general stream of tendency 
 is toward good "
 
 296 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 Abergwili Palace, Christmas Eve, 1873. 
 
 " . . . . The ' Cats ' have contrived to turn Purgatory, 
 which in itself has a great deal to commend it as a plausible 
 conjecture, into an immoral and demoralising absurdity 
 and a mere source of filthy lucre. According to the 
 original idea, it was an instrument of purification through 
 suffering. But according to the mediaeval practice sanc- 
 tioned by Papal authority the same benefit may be 
 obtained without any suffering at all, by a short prayer 
 or a small coin offered by any other person in the sufferer's 
 
 behalf. ■ would assure you that the Church knows 
 
 nothing of such abuses I am myself much inclined 
 
 to believe that every truth which Cats hold is more or less 
 leavened with superstition, but it may be not the less very 
 precious truth ; and so far as their faith is one which 
 enables them to look out into the world calmly, lovingly, 
 and hopefully, I am sure it is an orthodox faith 
 
 " I hope I am not uncharitable, but I do not believe 
 
 that ever had any fixed opinion about Establishment 
 
 or Disestablishment, but kept them in his hand as cards 
 to be played according to the turn of the game. With 
 how many other public men is not that the case ? " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 27 Dec, 1873. 
 " Pray do not take such a gloomy view of things, which 
 has not even the advantage of being a true one. The 
 heroine of Schiller's ' Wallenstein ' sang — 
 
 ' Ich habe gelett und geliebt ' (I have lived and loved). 
 
 That to her was happiness enough, whatever might come 
 after. 
 
 " Surely life is a good thing, unless it be embittered
 
 LETTEES TO A FEIEXD. 297 
 
 by some quite exceptional suffering, witliout compensation 
 or alleviation, a case which probably never occurred — life, 
 I say, is a good thing, whether it be long or short. But 
 even if that might be questioned, there can be no doubt 
 that to love and be beloved is one of the very best of 
 things, the most solid blessing that earth or heaven itself 
 can yield. 
 
 " How can its quality be affected by its direction ? If 
 it belongs to the past, it has been placed beyond the reach 
 of change — a fact for ever. There is no reason why it 
 should not survive death, and retain a perpetual influence 
 on the moral nature. 
 
 " But how can it be the less precious because we know 
 nothing with certainty of our history ultra tomhe, or even 
 if w^e knew that it was to be a blank ? Even that would 
 only be a reason for prizing our high privilege the more, 
 and cultivating it the more actively. How much more 
 when it carries in itself the germ of a hope full of immor- 
 tality. 
 
 " Pray never ask, ' Where would be the good of having 
 loved so much ? ' unless you are prepared to say that, under 
 any possible circumstances, you v^^ould wish to love less, 
 or be loveless. 
 
 " There is a little lecture which I commend" to your 
 Christmas musings."
 
 1874. 
 
 u
 
 Abergwili Talace, 17 Feb., 1874. 
 
 " I DO not know what consolation to offer you on the 
 general result of the election, unless it be that I believe 
 every election since the existence of a Parliament has been 
 accompanied with an enormous development of the evil 
 passions of our nature, and that it is an occasion when 
 persons, otherwise conscientious, act on the principle that 
 the end justifies the means. In this, I dare say, we are 
 no better, but neither worse, than our fothers " 
 
 Abergwili Palace, 23 A2)ril, 1874. 
 
 " Why should you think that I have been more than 
 usually busy since you heard from me last ? No letter 
 was ever yet written without either some outward occasion 
 or some inward impulse, and neither has occurred to set 
 my pen in motion youward. You have had a journey to 
 Tenby to record, which, though there have been more 
 memorable adventures, is still a respectable incident ; but 
 a walk up or down stairs, or even the length of the house, 
 hardly affords sufficient materials for description to any but 
 the author of the ' Voyage autour de ma Chambre.' This 
 most extraordinary season looks and feels as if the 
 almanack had mistaken April for May. I hope it will last 
 
 until M. Henri Martin visits , that it may confound 
 
 all his preconceived ideas of an English, or at least of a 
 
 u 2
 
 302 BISHOP thirlwall's 
 
 Welsh spring. When you see him, do not forget to ask 
 him what he thinks of Victor Hugo's ' Quatre-vingt-treize.' 
 I am almost ashamed of having committed the frightful 
 extravagance of buying it. I thought it the poorest of the 
 series in poetical invention. Yet it certainly has the advan- 
 tage of ' L' Homme qui rit ' as a picture of society not abso- 
 lutely without a counterj)art in reality. There was a very 
 good review of it in a recent number of the Revue des 
 deux Mondes. As a specimen of bibliopolist art — the 
 slender rill of text meandering through large expanse of 
 margin, with frequent stations in which the eye reposes on 
 pure blank — it cannot be easily surpassed. But all this 
 while I find that I am miserably behindhand with native 
 literature. I have not only never yet seen but never 
 heard of Houghton's ' Men of Mark.' I have no doubt 
 that I furnished Sydney Smith with an inexhaustible fund 
 of amusement in days past, and, having provided the 
 materials of the entertainment, I think it is hard that I 
 should not partake of it." 
 
 Abehgwili Palace, 1 May, 1874. 
 
 " It was very stupid in me not at once to understand 
 what book you were speaking of. I do not remember to 
 have heard of ' Men of Mark,' though it would be an 
 excellent title ; but the extract was from Lord Houghton's 
 ' Monographs,' of which he sent me a copy, I am afraid 
 now a year ago — long enough for me to forget Sydney's 
 pleasantry. It is the most entertaining volume Lord 
 Houghton ever published, and a kind of reading which I 
 might safely prescribe for you when you are squeamish 
 about books, as I am sure it would interest you more 
 than any novel, beside being more easily taken up and 
 laid down, each character being set in a frame of moderate
 
 LETTERS TO A FRIEND. 303 
 
 size. I wish you would at least make trial of it, and give 
 it a holiday, by relieving it from its constant attendance 
 on the drawing-room talile, where it is now, I believe, 
 regarded only as an encumbrance. Shall I send it to you 
 by book post, or is there any other mode of conveyance 
 which would ])c more convenient ?...." 
 
 Adergwili Palace, 13 May, 1874. 
 
 " A single but very big word. The rumour which you 
 too hastily believed when it was false will this time turn 
 out to be true." 
 
 The rumour to which this letter refers was the resigna- 
 tion of his Bishopric. After this the letters, first from 
 the pressure of business, and then from the failure of his 
 eyesight, become too fragmentary for publication. It 
 appears from them that in May, 1874, he left Abergwili 
 " never to return," and settled at Bath, and hoped " to 
 find a last resting-place in this pleasant neighbourhood." 
 
 He was obliged to part with all the occupants of the 
 Abergwili Library, " whose beloved faces," he writes, " I 
 shall never see again. It will, I believe, take months to 
 put the mass of books and papers which have arrived 
 in available order The work of the Revision Com- 
 pany furnishes me with constant and abundant employ- 
 ment, so that, notwithstanding the comparative relief from 
 correspondence, I find the day too short " 
 
 One or two allusions are found to the comet. 
 
 " We have now had two months of nearly uninterrupted 
 fine weather. There is a general and not improbable sus-
 
 304 Eisiiop thiiilwall's 
 
 picion that we owe it to the comet. But I have not yet 
 seen the celestial visitor, and I am afraid shall not before 
 he reaches his perihelion and begins to recede into other 
 realms of space." 
 
 An important question, the possibility of revising his 
 works for publication, occupied him. He says — 
 
 " Before I can make up my mind to publish or repub- 
 lish anything I have written I must read it again, and 
 many Aveeks may elapse before my papers are put in 
 order, so as to enable me to make choice of those which I 
 would preserve. The subject had not escaped my thoughts. 
 But the selection will be attended with great difficulty. 
 As to my sermons, there are very few Avhich I could con- 
 sent either to publish or republish. And if I republish 
 my charges, I should certainly feel myself bound to omit 
 large portions, of a temporary and polemical nature, which 
 might give pain to persons still living, and devoid of any 
 permanent interest. There are some other things which I 
 wrote when I resided at Cambridge which I have reason to 
 think would be quite as acceptable to most of my friends 
 as any of my theological writings, and they would at least 
 have the merit of being inoffensive. But if I had only the 
 choice between publishing everything or destroying all, I 
 should say, ' Let all go into the fire.' " 
 
 59, PrLTENEY iStueet, Bath, 6 Nov., 1874. 
 
 " My only very serious concern is the steadily progress- 
 ing failure of my eyesight. Already the dreadfully short 
 mornings, which seem to pass like flashes of lightning, 
 have become practically my whole day ; for in the evening 
 I can only read, not the book I want, but one in large
 
 LETTEKS TO A FKIEND. '^0o 
 
 print. And this must go on from bud to worse, until I 
 shall most probably find myself tantalised by an abun- 
 dance of books, for which I have the keenest appetite, 
 without the power of gratifying it. I learn to appreciate 
 the goodwill of St. Paul's Galatians, though suspecting 
 that they were not sorry to be unable to make the 
 sacrifice." 
 
 " I believe what you say about the eyes is generally 
 true, but does not apply to all cases alike, and that I shall 
 only know Avhen I have undergone the operation how far 
 it does to mine. At present I depend entirely on my left 
 eye ; for all practical purposes the other is gone, and I 
 should do better without it. Writing does not fatigue 
 me, but it torments me, as when I put pen to paper I am 
 never sure of hitting the point I aim at, and in correcting 
 a misprint am always liable to strike out the wrong letter. 
 .... I have been for some time stationary, and do not 
 expect ever to experience the feeling of convalescence, but 
 shall be quite content if my sight is spared " 
 
 " You will be glad to hear that my oculist — a very dis- 
 tinguished man — having inspected my eyes, encourages 
 me to hope that the good one will for a long time do duty 
 for both — so long, indeed, that, unless I live much longer 
 than I have any right to expect, I may never need an 
 operation at all." 
 
 It may be a fitting close to this correspondence to add 
 a letter which he himself wrote at an earlier stage of it : — 
 
 " .... I send you a scrap of poetry, which is a puzzle 
 to myself I found it on a small loose piece of paper, 
 and the corrections show clearly that it was not a copy, 
 but represents a process of composition, so that I have no
 
 306 BISHOP THIRLWALL'S LETTERS TO xV FRIEND. 
 
 doubt of my being tlic autlior, l)ut I also feel sure that 
 it is only a translation, most probably from a German 
 original 
 
 " Yet say — and didst thou never stand 
 Ou some bold height in this fair land, 
 A Slimmer sky above thy head, 
 A lovely scene beneath thee spread, 
 Of vale and stream, of rock and glade. 
 All in soft play of light and shade. 
 Thy breast at ease from fear and care, 
 And thou alone to linger there ? 
 And gazing with enraptured eye, 
 Wliile pleasure swelled to ecstasy, 
 Until the bosom overflowed, 
 Didst thou not feel thy joy a load 
 Too heavy for a single heart, 
 If friendship might not bear its part ? 
 And canst thou say, the happiest lot 
 On earth is his who needs it not ? 
 And is it in our saddest hour 
 We know the most of friendship's power ? 
 And only when the road is drear, 
 The sky o'ercast, or danger near, 
 And friends may serve to guard or guide. 
 That we would have them at our side ? 
 Then welcome sickness, welcome pain. 
 Bid grief admit thee of her train. 
 Bless all the ills that heaven may send. 
 If with them it vouchsafe a friend. 
 Yet rather pray to feel the charm 
 Of friendship in a holy calm. 
 When every earthly want is filled, 
 And every, earthly trouble stilled. 
 And not a longing left but this — 
 A faithfid friend to share thy bliss. 
 In earth or heaven ? Ask it not. 
 The difference is then forgot."
 
 m)e ISonti of |3eife£tne!s;5< 
 
 A SERMON" 
 
 PREACHED IN THE TEMPLE CHURCH, 
 §n "gilcwiori? of 
 
 ARTHUK PENRHYN STANLEY, D.D., 
 
 DEAN OF WESTMINSTEU, 
 
 On Sunday Morning, July 24, 1881. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. J. STEWAET PEEOWNE, D.D., 
 
 UEAN Ol'' PETEUBOKOUGH.
 
 Before this volume was published, though not before it 
 was completed and ready for publication, he who edited it 
 passed into that " white world," '" whither the great prelate 
 whose correspondence is here given had preceded him. 
 At the request of the dear friend to whom these Letters 
 were addressed, I have here printed, as a slight tribute to 
 the memory of Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, the sermon which 
 I preached on the Sunday after his death in the Temple 
 Church. It seemed not unfitting that in this, the last 
 volume which will appear with his name, a wreath of 
 remembrance should be laid upon his grave. 
 
 J. J. Stewart Perowne. 
 
 Deanery, Peterborough , 
 lOt/i September, 1881. 
 
 * The allusion is to the Welsh words inscribed on Bishop Thirlwall's 
 grave in Westminster Abbey — "Gwyn ci fyd" — "White is his world." 
 Dean Stanley alludes to it thus : — " .... You will be pleased to be told 
 that it struck me the other day, in connection with Gwyn ei fyd, that in the 
 epitaph of Camden, whose bust is close to the grave you so love, mention is 
 made of his singular wliiteness of soul {animi candor). Fuller, in speaking 
 of his monument and that of Casaubou close by, says : — ' These made of white 
 marble show the simplicity of their intentions, the candidness of their natures, 
 and the perfectness of their memories.' So that when his bust ' in white 
 marble,' is added, it will indeed be a white world morally no less than 
 materially.' .... And this is indeed a day of the White — ' clothed with 
 white robes.' " — Letter of Bean Stanley to a Friend, Nov. 1, 1875.
 
 A SERMON. 
 
 "And above all these things put on charity, which is the Lend oi 
 perfcctness." — Colossians iii. 14. 
 
 " Above all these things put on love." St. Paxil is describing the 
 truly Christian life. It begins with a death unto sin, figured by 
 the baptism which is its sign and seal ; it rises again into a new 
 atmosphere. It rises above the world, above its murky fogs and 
 vapours, above its din and strife and confusion into heaven itself. 
 The Christian lives there with the Saviour who has redeemed 
 him from self and from sin ; he has passed with Him within the 
 veil ; his thoughts, his purposes, his aims are heavenly. Ye 
 died unto sin, and your life is hid with Christ in God ; and yet, 
 strange paradox, ye must mortify the carnal affections which still 
 exist even in the regenerate natiu'e. St. Paul says, "Sot your 
 affections on things above, for ye are risen." St. Paul adds, 
 " Mortify your affections which are upon the earth." Watch 
 and sti'ive and pray against all that is impure and vile and 
 ignoble — that is the negative" side of his exhortation. " Put on 
 as the elect of God, holy and beloved, a heart of compassion, 
 kindness, humility, meekness, long-suffering, forbearing one 
 another, and forgiving one another if any one have a complaint 
 against any;" this is its positive side. "But above aU those 
 things put on love." Yes, "above all;" for it is this which 
 gives its highest charm and its completeness to the Christian 
 character. Love, as St. Paul describes it in glowing language 
 in his First Epistle to the Corinthians, is the character of the 
 Christian. It combines, it expresses all. Unselfishness, kind- 
 ness, long-suffering, humility, all are but parts and aspects of 
 love. Even Faith and Hope are but her handmaids. " God is 
 love, and he that dweUeth in love dwelleth in God, and He in 
 him." 
 
 You will not wonder that I have taken these words for the 
 motto of my sermon this morning. They seem so aptly to do- 
 scribe that life whose too abrupt close we arc all lamenting 
 to-day. There is a great sorrow in many hearts in London.
 
 010 A SERMON. 
 
 There is a profound sense of loss — of loss to the Church, of loss 
 to the nation, as well as of loss irreparable to his friends, in the 
 death of Arthur Stanley. I cannot speak worthily of him to-day. 
 I cannot say all that is in my heart. But I loved him as a friend, 
 and I honoured him as a religious teacher, and as a firm cham- 
 pion of rehgious liberty ; and I will at least endeavour to gather 
 up some of the lessons which are taught us by his life, his 
 example, and his words, as of one who did put on above all 
 things that love which is the bond of perfectness. 
 
 I. Look at him first as a religious teacher. He was not a 
 theologian, it may be freely admitted, in that very narrow sense 
 in which the term is sometimes employed. lie was not a master 
 of dogmatic or patristic theology. He had no taste for the subtle 
 and abstruse disquisitions of polemical divinity. But he was a 
 theologian in another and a better sense. If to throw light upon 
 Scripture, if to bring home its power and its teaching to the 
 hearts of men, if to make it not merely the record of a dead past, 
 but the vehicle of living truths, if to show its infinite breadth of 
 application to the most widely varying circumstances, if, in a 
 word, to interpret Revelation to the men of his own age, — if this 
 is to be a theologian, thea certainly he must take a high rank 
 among theologians. I do not speak only of that Commentary on 
 two of St. Paul's Epistles which is evidence that he possessed 
 the art of the expositor in no common degree. I speak of those 
 works in which he has brought the vast stores of his midtifarious 
 learning and his vivid imagination and his picturesque force of 
 description to illustrate the scenes and characters of the Bible. 
 In his glowing pages they live again. More, perhaps, than any 
 man in England he has made us feel the wonderful beauty, the 
 living force of the sacred narrative. And how reverent and how 
 close his study of the Bible. Words that other men passed by 
 as unmeaning or insignificant were for him charged with mean- 
 ing. A single word was for him a picture ; a single word was 
 for him a truth. He has made us know better than any other 
 the sites and localities of that Holy Land whose very stones were 
 dear to him. Plain and mountain, sea and desert, city and 
 village, fountain and river lie before us, as seen from some 
 height of vantage. Shepherd and warrior, patriarch and judge,
 
 A SERMON. 311 
 
 prophet and lawgiver, sage and king move before us as they 
 moved in tlie flesh. Abraham and Moses, Samson and Jephtliah, 
 David and Solomon, Elijah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, andEzekiel, Ezra, 
 Nehemiah, and Daniel are no longer shadows of a shadowy past, 
 but men of flesh and blood like ourselves. The writings of 
 Psalmists and Prophets are no longer regarded as theological 
 treatises or collections of mechanical predictions, or storehouses 
 of texts to be quoted in proof of doctrines ; their words are the 
 utterances of men speaking for God out of the midst of the smoke 
 and battle of life. They are real words that have a tenfold 
 reality for us, that help and strengthen and brace us, that com- 
 fort and console and cheer us, because we see as we never saw 
 before that they have their first application to the men themselves 
 who uttered them and to the circumstances in which they lived. 
 The actors themselves Kve ; their words breathe and burn. 
 
 This, I say, has been his work beyond that of any theological 
 writer in England, and it is a noble work. It is no light thing, 
 surely, to have made us feel this ; it is no light thing to have 
 helped us to read Scripture as we have not read it before ; it 
 is no light thing to have created an interest in the Bible by 
 helping men to see its inimitable freshness and truth, by con- 
 vincing them that it is no dead sepulchre of a past theology, but 
 that it is quick and powerful, in the truest and best sense divine, 
 because it is in the truest and best sense hiunan also. I do not 
 say that in dealing with the great problems of life which come 
 before us in the Bible he always satisfied us ; I do not say he 
 has sounded all its depths, or set all its truths in their just j)ro- 
 portion. "Who has ? But I do say he drew many men to study 
 and to reverence and to love the Bible who had never studied or 
 reverenced or loved it before. And of this I am profoundly 
 convinced, that if ever our theology is to be a moving force in 
 modern life it will be so exactly in proportion as we draw it fresh 
 from the undimmed fountain of the Bible. Lower down, the 
 stream is turbid, trodden into mire by the hoofs of the unclean 
 beasts of controversy. There, at its native source, it sparkles 
 with the light of heaven in aU its native piu-ity. And he who 
 leads us to the pure source rather than to the turbid stream, he 
 who unseals the fountain, he who bids us quench our thirst
 
 312 A SERMON. 
 
 there, deserves to be had in remembrance as a benefactor of his 
 generation. 
 
 I have admitted that Arthur Stanley was not a theologian in 
 the narrow sense of the term ; but a graver defect has been laid 
 to his charge. It has been said that he knew nothing and cared 
 nothing about doctrine. Men questioned if he had any creed 
 at all. The Gospel, they said, was to him little more than a 
 beautiful system of morality. The life of Christ rather than the 
 death of Christ, His moral teaching rather than His saving 
 power, held the chief place in his sermons. Because he did not 
 put doctrine in tlie fore-front of his teaching, men said he was a 
 heretic ; because, in his all-comprehensive charity, he looked at 
 men's virtues rather than at their creed, he was accused of 
 indifference to creeds. Because he thought that a National 
 Church shoidd have large terms of subscription, and because he 
 thought the public recitation of a formula laden with hard sen- 
 tences and fiery anathemas was not to be borne, he was branded 
 by bigots as an unbeliever. Never was there a more baseless 
 calumny. He could not, indeed, frame his words as some men 
 framed them. He remembered that error was often the error of 
 a puzzled intellect rather than of a corrupt heart ; he would not 
 be swift to condemn ; but he did not make light of doctrine or 
 of faith. I make here no doubtful inferences, I appeal to his 
 own published words. Let him be judged by these. "We hear 
 a great deal said," he observes, "for and against dogmatic 
 religion, a great deal concerning positive and negative theology, 
 
 concei'ning definite and indefinite teaching What we want 
 
 is not more or less doctrine, positive or negative, definite or 
 indefinite, but rather that we should clearly mark, learn, read, 
 and inwardly digest and understand the full meaning of the 
 doctrines which we already have, but which we now too often 
 repeat only for the sake of repeating them. Those sacred words 
 which we use, whether from the Bible or from the Church, let 
 us ascertain and define what they really mean, what they have 
 meant, what we mean by them, what others mean by them. 
 They are still full of force and life, they can still, if rightly 
 understood, not only stifle many an old quarrel, but open many 
 a new truth. The familiar doctrines of the Church, the Cor-
 
 A SERMON. 313 
 
 ruption of Iluman Natiire, tlic Divine Prodostination, Justifica- 
 tion, tlio Atonement, the doctrine of tlie Holy and Undivided 
 Trinity .... liold to each and all of them; but, as you use 
 them, see what you mean by them, define as clearly as you can 
 to yourselves, if not to others, the ideas they convey to your own 
 mind ; or, if you cannot define them, be aware that you cannot 
 do so." * 
 
 These are words addressed to candidates for the ministry. Is 
 this to make light of the doctrines of the Church ? Is this to 
 empty them of meaning ? Is this to explain them away ? Is it 
 not rather to put honour" upon them ? Was it not wise and 
 faithful to guard young men against that easy facility in adoj)ting 
 watchwords and shibboleths which has been the bane of every 
 party in the Church ; against that miserable pretence of know- 
 ledge which is dogmatic exactly in proportion to its ignorance ; 
 against that second-hand, parrot-like repetition of truth, which 
 may be, alas ! the substitute for honest inquiry, humility, and 
 patience ? 
 
 But it is above all when he comes to speak of his Master Clirist 
 that his words glow with the sincerity of his faith and love. 
 " How can I express," he says, " my conviction of the depth of 
 the wisdom and instruction to be learned from His character, 
 His teaching. His work, if only Ave set ourselves not to repeat 
 phrases respecting Him, but to ask and to seek out what He 
 really was and is to us, what He reaUy taught, what He really 
 did ? It may be that oiu- search will be constantly baffled, but it 
 will more often be that even the humblest will be amply 
 rewarded, even the most aspiring will find that by penetrating 
 behind that veil he has gained a power which he had never 
 found elsewhere ; that he has found a new footing and seen a 
 new life in every Scripture which tells hini of the Word made 
 Flesh, in every article of the ancient creeds which speaks to him 
 of the work and nature of Jesus Christ our Lord. Christ cruci- 
 fied and Christ risen— Christ our Example and our Sacrifice — 
 Chi'ist our Prophet and our Eedeemer — Christ who took our 
 nature upon him in all things, sin only excepted — and Christ of 
 one substance with the Father and the express image of His 
 
 * Sermon preached at the Ordination of the Bishop of London.
 
 314 A SERMON, 
 
 Person — Clirist the Word of God — Christ the Light of the 
 World— Christ the Way, Christ the Truth, Christ the Life. 
 Every one of these words and ideas has more in it than has ever 
 yet been taken out of it. None can be discarded without loss : 
 aU together rightly appreciated and seen in their right propor- 
 tions make up the very truth of God, the very essence of Chris- 
 tianity, in the strength of which, and in the strength of Him 
 whom they set forth, we may well defy the world and repose in 
 the true communion of saints." " If only we set ourselves not to 
 repeat phi-ases respecting Him " — there is the very ring of 
 truth. Reality is stamped on every word of this passage. And 
 yet this is the man who has sometimes been branded as an 
 unbeliever, or at best as no better than a Socinian. Let the 
 truth be heard. Now at last let the lying lips be put to silence 
 which cruelly, disdainfully, and despitefuUy have spoken against 
 him. He did not defend himself, his nature was too cabn and 
 too noble. But those who love his memory cannot suffer insinu- 
 ation and slander to touch it without earnest protest, without 
 some attempt at vindication. 
 
 11. He was a great religious teacher, but he was also a great 
 champion of religious liberty. Beyond all other ecclesiastics of 
 his generation, he was the teacher and representative of a 
 wise comprehensiveness, a large-hearted charity. None has ever 
 insisted so frequently as he on the great truth that love is the 
 fulfilling of the law. None has ever set a brighter example 
 of courageous vindication of this truth in aU his relations with 
 others. In every controversy that has shaken the Church, the 
 whole weight of his influence was always on the side of large- 
 ness, candour, moderation, charity. Consistently, and from the 
 very first, he refused to draw the line not only between parties 
 within the pale of the National Church, but between the 
 National Church and the various Christian bodies that had 
 separated from her communion. He recognised goodness everj^- 
 where. He felt that the miserable sectarian animosities whicli 
 kept good men asunder were a disgrace to their Cliristian pro- 
 fession. He strove to unite. His voice was always a healing 
 voice. Amidst the storm and conflict and the clasli of angry 
 parties, amidst all the fierce theological rancour b}' wliich he
 
 A SERMON. 315 
 
 "was liimsolf again and again assailed because he refused to join 
 in the eager condemnation of some obnoxious ecclesiastic, ho 
 remained calm and unmoved, disdaining to reply to the virulent 
 abuse that was heaped upon him. 
 
 And as no man did more to break down the walls and liodges 
 reared so sedulously by jealous theologians and narrow sectaries, 
 so no one, unless it bo his great master Arnold, has done more in 
 our generation to assort for the laity tlieir true place in tlie 
 Church. The Church with him did not mean the clergy. The 
 clergyman with him was not the priest, but the voice and the 
 representative of the congregation, as well as the ambassador of 
 God. Like Arnold he was the consistent opponent of modern 
 sacerdotalism. He disliked the arrogance of its claims, he 
 believed them to be utterly opposed to the whole spii-it of the 
 Gospel. His historical learning made him keenly aware of the 
 shallowness of its pretensions, and in his last published work he 
 has done signal service in exposing it. 
 
 "Remember," he says, addressing the candidates for ordina- 
 tion, in the sermon already quoted, preached at St. Paul's Catlie- 
 dral, "remember the immense value, the religious, moral, theo- 
 logical value of the opinion of a good, enlightened, independent, 
 unprejudiced, practical, scientific layman. Respect it, seek to find 
 it out, be guided by it. If it is the duty and the privilege of the 
 laity to honour and to hear the clergy, it is no less the duty and 
 the privilege of the clergy to honour and love the laity. Many a 
 pious clergyman, alas ! in town and country, in the colonies or 
 at home, has regarded the layman, whether squire, or chiu'ch- 
 warden, or governor, or judge, as his natural enemy. IMy 
 brethren, let this rule in each of your cases be reversed. 
 Regard him as your best friend ; regard him if possible as your 
 brother in Christ ; regard him, it is often not too much to sa}', 
 as your father in God. The office of the minister wiU not sink, 
 but rise in proportion as he is charged with the hopes and fears, 
 and feelings, and sjonpathies not only of the clergy, but of tlie 
 whole church and nation." These are noble words ; and in the 
 spirit of these words he always acted. Occupying one of the 
 proudest of Ecclesiastical positions, there was notliing of tlie 
 mere Ecclesiastic about him. He could look at Ecclesiastical
 
 316 A SERMON. 
 
 questions from the layman's point of view. More than any 
 other man he vindicated in Convocation the rights of the laity in 
 the questions which agitated the Church. He knew the clergy- 
 man's true position was not one of arrogant assertion. He knew • 
 that the clergyman was then most truly the clergyman when he 
 was what St. Paul would have him be, an example to the 
 believers in word, in conversation, in faith, in charity, in purity. 
 This was his priesthood, thus he exercised its absolving power. 
 
 He never became a party leader. His was not a name round 
 which men flocked to do battle ; his nature was too noble, his 
 heart was too broad. That would have been to divide, not to 
 unite. But men did gather round him. High Churchman and 
 Low Churchman, Puritan Nonconformist, and Romish Prelate, 
 Greek Bishop, Armenian Patriarch, Scotch Presbyterian, all found 
 in him some point of sympathy. He seemed to understand them all, 
 he looked in all for the point of agreement, for the hidden unity 
 beneath the varied surface. " One Lord, one faith, one baptism, 
 one God and Father of all," this, it might be said, was his creed; 
 these words expressed for him the true ideal of corporate Christian 
 existence. No doubt this abounding charity was sometimes 
 strained to the utmost, no doubt it was often misunderstood. 
 One who stretched forth such yearning hands of brotherhood to 
 those who were beyond the border-line of Christian faith might 
 seem himself to go beyond it. It is the bane of the Ecclesias- 
 tical temper that it cannot be comprehensive. The mind trained 
 in a narrow school of theology has no large trust in goodness. 
 It rightly feels the value of truth, but it forgets the magnitude 
 of truth, it grasps at a portion and fancies it has all. It forgets 
 not only that truth is vast and varied as the universe of God, but 
 that as the eye which sees the glory of earth, and sea, and sky 
 interprets it according to its own capacity, so the eye which sees 
 truth sees more or less according as it is endowed. It judges men 
 an 1 condemns before it hears. It struck out the title of saint 
 before the name of the saintliest of the Fathers, because a Chui'ch 
 Synod condemned his errors: neither the greatness of his 
 services to the Church nor the purity of his life sufficed to 
 shield Origen from its censure. But it has been finely remarked 
 there is in that *'life of humble self-sacrifice something too
 
 A SERMON. 317 
 
 majestic, too divine to be ovcrtlirown by the uncandid sontonco 
 of an Ecclesiastical Synod." And so, too, it is with liim whose 
 death we now mourn. He has been arraigned at the bar of 
 hasty judges, censured, condemned ; but his judges were 
 unable to understand him, or never took the trouble to under- 
 stand him. WeU would it be if they learned something of liis 
 charity, well if they paused before they pronounced their anathema, 
 well if they thought no evil, well if they looked for goodness as he 
 did, even where others saw only evil. 
 
 I can never think of him without being reminded of that 
 beautiful legend which is so truly worthy of the Gospel. A 
 crowd was once gathered in the streets of Jerusalem round a 
 dead dog lying on the ground, with a halter about his neck. As 
 they stood round they freely expressed their disgust. "Was 
 there ever so ugly a cur ? " said one. " Look at his torn hide," 
 said another. " One could not even cut a shoe out of it." 
 *' Faugh ! how he pollutes the air ! " said a third. " No doubt," 
 said another, " he hath been hanged for thieving." Meanwhile 
 one who was passing by looked do^vn with compassion on the 
 dead creature and said, "Pearls do not equal the whiteness of 
 his teeth." Then said the crowd, "That must be Jesus of 
 Nazareth, for none but He could find beauty even in a dead dog." 
 Yes, to see beauty even in corruption, this is the teaching and 
 the method of Christ. And surely this is a spirit not so common 
 that we can afford to make light of it. Surely one who acts in 
 this spirit sets an example worthy of our imitation. 
 
 "Love one another," he says, in his last published work, "in 
 spite of differences, in spite of faults, in spite of the excesses of 
 one or the defects of another. Love one another, and make the 
 best of one another, as He loved us, who, for the sake of saving 
 what was good in the human soul, forgot, forgave, put out of sight 
 what was bad — who saw and loved what was good even in the 
 pubKcan Zaccheus, even in the penitent Magdalen, even in the 
 expiring malefactor, even in the heretical Samaritan, even in the 
 Pharisee Nicodemus, even in the heathen soldier, even in the 
 outcast Canaanite." 
 
 III. Shall I speak of his work and his life as Dean of the 
 Abbey Church, Westminster ? Shall I tell of the historical lure 
 
 X 2
 
 318 A SERMON. 
 
 with which he has illustrated that most historical of oiir\ancicnt 
 buildings ? Shall I tell how he loved its stones ? Shall I tell 
 how willingly and gladly he gave his time that he might help 
 the artisans and mechanics who came at his invitation to see the 
 Abhey to understand its history, and to enter into the spirit of 
 its associations, how largely thus he was educating those who 
 listened to him ? Shall I tell how this kindness was appreciated, 
 how young men who had gone up to London for their holiday to 
 visit the Abbey returned home — I speak of what has fallen 
 under my own observation — carrying for ever in their hearts the 
 memory of his kindness, as he led them step by step through the 
 Abbey and told them, as no other living man could tell it, 
 the wondrous tale of its history ? His last audible words are a 
 witness how dear his work there was to him. " I have laboured," 
 he said, ' ' amid many frailties and much weakness to make this 
 institution more and more the great centre of religion and 
 national life in a truly liberal spirit." And one who was long 
 associated with him at Westminster, who differed widely from 
 him on some important questions, who felt it a duty even to 
 oppose his appointment to the Deanery, has nevertheless borne 
 witness how nobly he fulfilled this his aim and purpose, in what 
 a spirit of Christian charity he lived. Shall I tell yet again of 
 his unwearied efforts to promote the good of the working classes 
 at large, and especially iu his own city of Westminster ? Aided 
 and cheered by his noble wife, herself always foremost in 
 every good work, whilst she lived the light and the blessing 
 of his home, and when she died leaving there the sweet fragrance 
 of her memory as that which could never die, he lived for others, 
 not for himself. He was the friend of all classes from the 
 highest to the lowest ; he was loved, revered, honoured by all. 
 The Queen, in touching words, has expressed her sense of the 
 loss she has sustained in the death of one whom she regarded as 
 a faithful friend and wise, counsellor. And in many a humble 
 home tears were shed when the sad tidings came that the Dean 
 of Westminster was dead. His name has been a household word 
 not only in this coimtry, but wherever the English tongue is 
 spoken. America and Canada have joined their voice to om*s in 
 lamentine: the more than national loss.
 
 A SERMOX. 310 
 
 An influence like this, a fame like this, are not the influence 
 and the fame mei'ely of intellectual greatness, they are the 
 influence and the fame of goodness. This was the secret of his 
 winning attractiveness. His character was a Christlike character. 
 The blessings of the Sermon on the Mount, which formed the 
 subject of his last sermon, belonged emphatically to him. If 
 the merciful, if the peacemakers, if the pure in heart, if they 
 which do hunger and thirst after righteousness are blessed, then 
 he is blessed. Simplicity, unaffected humility, guilelessness, 
 purity, gentleness, sweetness, marked his character. But it 
 was not a weak character. There was in it the resolute inde- 
 pendence which called no man his master upon earth, the fearless 
 love of truth, the righteous scorn of all hunting after popidarity, 
 the bold assertion of his convictions, when he felt that the asser- 
 tion was necessary, which made men respect as well as love him. 
 
 He is gone in the very height of his influence and usefidnoss. 
 That tender and beautiful spirit has passed away from earth. 
 And yet it is not wholly passed away. It does, it must long survive 
 him. A fixe of love has gone forth from him which is not, which 
 cannot, be quenched in his ashes. Westminster has had her great 
 array of splendid names. She has had her scholai's and her 
 theologians, and her men of science and her saints. Her Deans 
 have been famous in their generation, men of renown. Launce- 
 lot Andrewes and John WiUiams, Lord Keeper, and Francis 
 Atterbury, are historical names; and coming down to times 
 within the memory of living men, there are to be found on her 
 roll Ireland and Turton, Buckland, and Wilberf orce, and Trench, 
 men who have adorned her annals. But no name is so enshrined 
 in men's hearts as the name of Arthur Stanley ; and so long as 
 purity, simx^licity, generosity, an ardent love of truth, a chivalrous 
 championship of the erring, a noble charity, sweet delicacy, i-are 
 courtesy, the charm, the winning grace of a refined Christian 
 sold, shall be dear to the hearts of men, so long shall his 
 memory last. He was happy in his life — except in the one great 
 sorrow which clouded it — in the consciousness of a single and a 
 successfid purpose, in the love of friends, in the dear love of a 
 devoted wife, in the esteem of all, even of those who most differed 
 from him ; happy in his death, for to him it was the vision of
 
 320 A SERMON. 
 
 God, the vision unclouded of that Light and Truth which was 
 the one object of his life ; happy in the reunion with her who 
 had been his dearest earthly treasure. His own most beautiful 
 lines are the expression of his feelings in prospect of death : — 
 
 "'TiU Death us part!' 
 
 So speaks the heart 
 When each to each repeats the word of doom ; 
 
 Thro' blessing and thro' curse, 
 
 For better and for worse, 
 We will be one till that dread hour shall come. 
 
 Life, with its myriad grasp. 
 
 Our yearning soiils shall clasp. 
 By ceaseless love and still expectant wonder ; 
 
 In bonds that shall endure, 
 
 Indissolubly sure, 
 Till God in death shall part our paths asunder. 
 
 Till Death us join, 
 
 O voice yet more divine ! 
 That to the broken heart breathes hope subhme ; 
 
 Thro' lonely hours 
 
 And shattered powers 
 We still are one, despite of change and time. 
 
 Death, with his healing hand, 
 
 Shall once more knit the band. 
 Which needs but that one link which none may sever ; 
 
 Till, thro' the Only Good, 
 
 Heard, felt, and understood. 
 Our life in God shall make us one for ever." 
 
 He was a great gift of God to his generation, for which we 
 are bound to thank the Giver. Like him may we follow Christ, 
 like him may we learn to lay aside prejudices, to be merciful, to 
 be pitiful, to be just, to judge righteous judgment, to bear the 
 burden of the world in a generous sympathy, to flee from that 
 which is evil to seek after that which is good, but to see good 
 also in evil, to embrace all men, all parties, all sects, all Churches 
 in the arms of love, to have a heart of compassion, kindness, 
 humility, meekness, long-suffering, to forbear one another in 
 love ; but, above all these, to " put on love which is the bond of 
 perfectness."
 
 INDEX. 
 
 A. 
 
 Abcrayron, 70, 71 
 Abergwili, 194 
 
 Church, monument to Bishop 
 
 Davis, 15 
 Library, 303 
 About, Edmond, 91 
 Abraham, legend of, 58, 59 
 Abyssinian Expedition, 126 
 Addison, 168 
 Africa, 48 
 Alexander VI., 267 
 Alford, Dean, 169 
 America, Miss Murray's " Letters " 
 
 from, 44, 45, 48, 49 
 American States (South), vitality of 
 the, 180 
 
 War, fatal folly of the, 90 
 Ancyra, stone of, 9 
 Andersen, Hans Christian, 130, 290 
 Angelo, Michael, " Entombment " in 
 National Gallery attributed to, 1 85 
 —187 
 Anthem, dramatic, arranged by 
 
 Elvey, 107 
 Antonelli, 14, 258, 261 
 Annada, Spanish, 36 
 "Ai-madale," 48, 61 
 Armagh, Archbishop of, 152 
 Arnold, Matthew, 168 
 
 Essaj' on " Celtic Literature," 61, 
 74 
 On Eugenie de Guerin and 
 
 Sainte-Beuve, 89 
 Anarchy and Authority, 131 
 Philistines, 209, 210 
 Ai'thur, King, 165 
 
 Essay on (Herbert Coleridge), 19 
 " La Morte d'Arthiu-," 19 
 His historical personality, 19 — 
 22 
 Arthur, Prince, 107 
 Ashburton, Lord, 74 
 Assolant, 164 
 
 Atkinson, "Travels on the Amour," 
 158 
 
 Aimiale, Due d', 195 
 Austerlitz, 137, 140 
 Austin, Mrs., 82, 89 
 Austrian cession of Venetia, 72 
 "Avonhoe," 158 
 Azeglio, ]\Iassimo d', 101, 102 
 "I miei Kicordi," 110 
 
 B. 
 
 Baker, Sir Samuel, "Travels," 73 
 
 Basevi, 165 
 
 Basques, Essay on the, W. v. Hum- 
 boldt, 74 
 
 Bath, 303 
 
 Beaufort, Admiral, 265 
 
 Beaumaris, 8, 227, 228 
 
 Bell, "Jockey," 198 
 
 Bengore Head, 36, 37 
 
 Berry, Miss, "Journal and Letters " 
 of, 43, 44, 18, 53, 54. 56, 57, 63 
 
 Birds, 100, 113, 165, 179, 180, 239 
 
 Bismark, Prince, 71 — 73 
 
 Black Sea Conference, 253 
 
 Blackie, Professor, 193 
 
 Blackmore, R. D. (" Cradock No- 
 weU "), 48 
 
 Bliicher, Countess, 107 
 
 Bochsa, 189 
 
 Bfieckh, 193 
 
 Bohemian Language and Literature, 
 Society at Prague for the Cultiva- 
 tion of, 206 
 
 Boileau, 168 
 
 Boniface VIII., 13, 262, 267 
 
 Bonover, 8 
 
 Bowyer, Sir George (etymology of 
 Grail), 215, 216 
 
 Boxall, 187, 219 
 
 Boxhorn, 123 
 
 Bremer, Fredrika, anecdote of a 
 bird, 165 
 
 Breton Congress, 27, 29 
 
 Bright, John, 64, 96, 98 
 
 Brittany, destruction of Druid re- 
 mains in, 180 
 
 Brixhani Fleet, 56
 
 322 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Brooke, Stopford, sermon on Im- 
 mortality, 284 
 Browning, EoLert, 98, 99, 184 
 Buckingham Palace, concert at, 190, 
 
 191 
 Bimsen, Baron v., 15, 61, 294 
 
 "Memoirs" of, 151, 153, 154 
 His likeness to Napoleon I., 154 
 Baroness, G6, 153, 156 
 Ernest de, 116, 188, 229 
 Burgon, 213, 279, 281 
 Bute, Marquis of (a Cuyp in his jios- 
 
 session), 219 
 Buxton, Charles (" The Ideas of the 
 
 Day on Policy "), 65 
 Byron, Lord, 97, 98 
 
 C. 
 
 Cajsar (Napoleon III.), 27, 29 
 Cambridge, 116, 117, 191, 192 
 Campbell, J. F. ("Popular Tales of 
 
 the Western Highlands"), 4 
 Canaletto, 196 
 Canterbury, 117, 118 
 
 Translation of Bishop of London 
 
 to, 169 
 Archbishop of , 189, 190, 279, 287 
 Canvassing letters, 232, 233 
 Capetown, Bishop of, 108, 110, 170 
 Carlyle, Thomas, 73, 74, 222, 239 
 Carmarthen, 5 
 
 Carnhuanawg, Rev. T. Price, 22 
 Carpenter, Dr., 266 
 Carrick-a-rede, 36 
 Catalani, 189 
 Cato, 243, 247—249 
 Cats, 81, 82, 94, 126, 163, 188, 269 
 Causeway, Giant's, 36 
 Cawdor, Countess of, 108 
 " Celtic Literature," Essay on, by 
 
 Matthew Arnold, 61, 74 
 Charge (1867), attacks on Bishop 
 Thirlwall's, 102, 103 
 
 His opinion of it, 104, 105 
 Eoply to attacks on, 108 
 (1869), 200 
 Charles I., 5, 6, 117, 118, 221, 222 
 Charterhouse, 188, 225 
 Christian view of death, supposed 
 contrast between the heathen-phi- 
 losophical and the, 242 — 250 
 Christmas Carol (Slavonic), on the 
 
 creation of the world, 202 
 Cicero, 56 
 
 His view of death, 243 
 Clark, Archdeacon, 183 
 Clark, Miss, 165, 180 
 
 (" Lost Legends of the Nursery 
 Songs"), 208 
 Clark, Miss Anita, 208 
 Cliflbrd, Itoman Catholic Bishop, 27 
 Coal, 263, 291 
 
 Cobbe, Miss, 266 
 
 Article on " Unconscious Cere- 
 bration," 268, 269 
 
 Coins, theory as to British, 100 
 
 Col do Tendo, affair of the, 140 
 
 Colenso, Bishop, 19 
 
 Coleraine, 36, 37 
 
 Coleridge, 40 
 
 Herbert (" La Morte d' Arthur "), 
 19 
 
 Collins, AVilkie ("Armadale"), 48, 61 
 
 " Colonna Inf'ame," 90 
 
 Comet of 1874, 303, 304 
 
 Confucius, 214, 215 
 
 Coningion, his translation of Horace 
 quoted, 243, 244 
 
 Consalvi's " Memoir es," 135 
 
 Contemporary Review, 61, 132, 255, 
 266 
 
 Convocation, 132, 279 
 
 Guardian s reports of, 65 
 
 Cornhill Magazine, 43, 55, 61, 131, 
 159, 160, 278 
 
 Cornwall, 3 
 
 "Cradock Nowell" (R. D. Black- 
 more), 48 
 
 Criticism, literary, remarks on, as 
 the subject of an essay, 168, 167, 168 
 
 Croker, Crofton, 7 
 
 Cromwell, 221, 222 
 
 Cross, symbol of the, 269 
 
 Cullen, Cardinal, 232 
 
 Cyclone, the (1865), 22 
 
 Cyril of Alexandria, 295 
 
 D. 
 
 DaUas, 168 
 
 Dante (Rossetti Theory), 69, 70 
 
 Darnley, 214, 223 
 
 Darwin, 57 
 
 Dasent, 4 
 
 Davis, Bishop, 15 
 
 Edward, his bust of Bishop 
 Thirlwall and other works, 
 15, 37 
 Jefferson, 184 
 Dawn in London, 195 
 Death, view of sympathy and of loss 
 by, 15-17 
 
 Supposed contrast between the 
 heathen-ijhilosophical and the 
 Christian view of, 242 — 250 
 Cato's view of, 243 
 Cicero's view of, 243 
 Horace's view of, 243 
 The Stoics' view of, 243, 244 
 The Ei)icureans' view of, 243, 
 
 244 
 St. Paul's view of, 244 
 Socrates' view of, 244 
 A law and a punidiment, 255 — 
 257
 
 INDEX. 
 
 323 
 
 Depravity, hiinitiii, 1 2 1 
 
 Derby, Earl of, l.J4, l,')5, 16-1 
 
 Desmoulins, Camille, 146 
 
 Dickens, Charles, 42, 66, 270 
 
 Diez, 216 
 
 Disraeli, Benjamin, 90, 98, 118, 1.59, 
 170, 172, 173, ISG 
 
 Dixon, Hepworth ("New America"), 
 102 
 
 DiJllinger, 262 
 
 Domitian, 138 
 
 Dove, Professor, 200 
 
 Dowden, Professor, 255 
 
 Dragonetti, 189 
 
 Dream of Tiberius, 121 
 
 Dreams, moral judgment in, 268, 
 269 
 
 Drome, IMatthieu du, unfulfilled pre- 
 diction of, 9 
 
 Druid remains in Brittany, 180 
 
 Ducange, 123 
 
 Dudley, Lord, 137 
 
 Dumas, Alexandre (" Impressions de 
 Voyages"), 89 
 
 Dunluce, 36 
 
 Dutch novel contrasted with a Ger- 
 man novel, 129, 131 
 
 E. 
 
 Earianell, 8 
 
 " Earthly Paradise' ' (William Morris) , 
 
 174, 208, 209, 280 
 "Ecce Homo," 59, 60, 132 
 Edinburgh Rcvieir, 89 
 
 Article on Geology in the (1870), 
 219, 220 
 Edward I., 8 
 Eneon ap Meredydd, 8 
 Eneon ap Tegerin, 8 
 "El Conde Lucanor," 149 
 Elections, demoralising influence of 
 
 contested, 168, 171, 172, 301 
 Elgin, Earl of, 181 
 Elijah, F. W. Robertson's sermon on, 
 
 65, 66 
 Eliot, George, "Felix Holt," 73 
 
 " Spanish Gipsy," 158 
 
 " lliddlemarch," 278, 287 
 Elizabeth, Queen, 208, 209, 213, 214 
 Elvey, Dr., anthem arranged by, 
 
 107 
 Embankment, Thames, 118, 196 
 Enghien, Due d', 181 
 "Entombment" in National Gallery, 
 
 attributed to Michael Angelo, 
 185—187 
 Erckmann - Chatrian Story - books, 
 
 64, 110 
 Errington, Eoman Catholic Bishop, 27 
 Essex, Countess of, 189 
 " Euthanasia," 249, 250 
 Ex-Cathedi-a Declarations, 267 
 
 Exeter Hall, 48 
 
 Exhibition, Winter, at Burlington 
 
 House (1870), 218, 219 
 Eyre, Governor, 49, 171 
 
 Facino, Valcsca de, 191 
 Faculty, a, 166, 167 
 Faithfulness, 121 
 Fame and Glory, 137, 138 
 Faraday, 231 
 
 Tyndall's lecture on, 133 — 135 
 Favro, Jules, 255 
 Ferdinand IV. of Naples, 222 
 
 VII. of Spain, 222 
 Fictions, transmigration of, 80 
 Flamen, derivation of, 4 
 Forgiveness of sin and sinn, 46 
 Fortescue, Earl, 189 
 Fouque, La Motte, 43 
 France, 253 
 
 " Histoire de" (Henri Martin), 
 
 60, 61, 91, 105, 209 
 Prince Imperial of, 29, 288 — 
 290 
 Franco-German War, 227 — 229, 231, 
 
 232 
 Freeman, E. (" History of the Nor- 
 man Conquest"), 151 
 French feeling towards the Germans, 
 
 252—254 
 Frere, Miss (" Old Deccan Days"), 149 
 Friendship, 18 
 
 Verses on, 305, 306 
 Froissart, 5 — 7 
 Froschammer, 262 
 
 Froude, "History of England," 208, 
 209 
 
 His view of Queen Elizabeth, 
 213, 214 
 Future state, reunion of friends in a, 
 17, 18 
 
 G. 
 
 Gainsborough, 196 
 
 Gambold's Welsh Grammar and 
 Dictionary, 80, 81 
 
 Gaskell, Mrs. (" Wives and Daugh- 
 ters"), 42, 43, 55 
 
 "Gates Ajar," 284 
 
 Gaulle, Charles de, 198 
 
 Geese, 99, 102, 110, 113, 123, 205, 
 206 
 
 Geoffrey of Monmouth, 6 
 
 Geology, article on, in the Edtiiburqli 
 Hvinew (1870), 219, 220 
 
 George III., 90 
 IV., 141 
 
 German novel contrasted with a 
 Dutch novel, 129, 131 
 
 Germans, Freuch feeling towards 
 the, 252—254
 
 324 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Ghost, what is meant by a, 112, 113 
 Gladestry, 292 
 
 Gladstone, W. E., 64, 98, 172, 173, 
 215 
 His misplaced confidence in 
 
 human nature, 71 
 Article on " Ecco Homo," 132 
 Resolutions on the Irish Church 
 
 question, 152, 165 
 His susceptibility, 171 
 Glory and fame, 137, 138 
 Goethe, his character, 209 
 
 Hisselfishness, 148, 149 
 Gordon, Lady Duff ("Letters fuorn 
 
 Egypt"), 82 
 Gosse, etjTnology of, 121—123 
 Grail, Holy (Alfred Tennyson), 209, 
 216 
 Etymology of, 215, 216 
 Gray's " Bard," 25, 26 
 Greece, King of. 111 
 
 "History of," Bishop Thirl wall, 
 105 
 Greek, pronunciation of, 193 
 Greeks, the, 254 
 Griffith, Dr., 235 
 Grimm, 4 
 
 Grote, George, 106, 193, 270 
 Gruffydd ap Evan, 8 
 
 Welsh harper, 25, 26 
 Gualterio (" Gli ultimi Rivolgimenti 
 
 Italiani "), 13, 14 
 Guardian, the, 65, 154, 241, 242, 279 
 Guerin, Eugenie de, 89, 93, 94 
 Guillemin, Amedee (" Le Soleil"), 
 220 
 
 H. 
 Hadrian IV., 267 
 HaUam, Henry, 97, 168 
 Hamlet, 248 
 
 Hare, Archdeacon, 54, 63 
 Harvard Crew, the, 198 
 Heathen -philosophical view of death, 
 
 supposed contrast between the 
 
 Christian and the, 242 — 250 
 Henry II., 267 
 Horbelot (" Bibliotheque Orientale"), 
 
 58 
 Herbert of Lea, Lady, 23 
 Herbert of Llanarth, Captain Ivor, 
 
 coming of age of, 281 
 Hercules, 138 
 Herschel, Sir John, 220 
 Hertford, Marquis of, 196 
 Holland, despotism of etiquette in, 
 
 131 
 Horace, 40, 225, 243, 244 
 Hossack, 223 
 Houghton, Lord, 53, 60, 97, 184, 
 
 186, 195, 302, 303 
 House of Lords, 194 
 
 Hugo, Victor, 186, 18'', 201, 202, 302 
 Humboldt, W. (Essay on the Basques), 
 
 74 
 Humour, 42 
 Hunt ("Popular Romances of the 
 
 West") 29, 30 
 Huxley, Professor, 192, 193, 223 
 
 Iceberg hj'pothesis superseded, 113 
 
 Effect on climate, 159 
 Illusion, optical, 157 
 Index Expurgatorius, 225, 226 
 India, conduct of the English in, 82, 
 83 
 
 Office Museum, 187, 188 
 Indian Legends, 66—69, 75—77, 160 
 
 — 1(;3 
 Infallibility decree, 227, 228, 267 
 
 Position of Roman Catholics and 
 others with regard to the, 250 
 
 —252 
 Unconscious of that position, 
 
 257—259 
 Oath of allegiance affected by, 
 250, 251 
 Its retrospective action, 258, 259 
 Roman Catholics divided among 
 themselves on the question of 
 the, 261, 262 
 Ingelow, Jean, 43 
 Innocent IV., 267 
 
 Irish Church question, excitement 
 about the, 151, 152 
 
 Gladstone's resolutions, 152, 155 
 IMany-sided, 163 
 A grievance, 164 
 View of the, 168—171 
 Political poem on the, 172 — 
 
 174 
 Bishops, 183 
 
 Irish Agrarian outrages not con- 
 nected with the, 188, 189 
 Speech on the, 194, 195 
 Irish clergy, 174 
 
 Roman Catholic priesthood, 173, 
 174 
 Italian lakes, 103, 104 
 Italy, 25, 69, 112, 113 
 
 Protestant movement in, 20, 2 1 
 Index^endence of, 71—73 
 
 J. 
 
 Jaffa, poisoning of soldiers by order 
 
 of Napoleon I. at, 137, 140 
 Jamaica, insurrection in, 45, 49 
 Jamieson, Dr. (Scottish Dictionary) 
 
 122 
 Jesse (on George III.), 90 
 Jesuits, works on the, 229, 230 
 Jcwsbury, Miss, 73, 2^9, 240
 
 INDEX. 
 
 325 
 
 John, King, 251 
 Johnson, 168 
 
 Kevordy, 184 
 Jones, Basset, 25 
 
 Dr. Basil (Bishop of St. David's), 
 215 
 
 Edward, 7 
 
 John (Idrisvn), 153 
 
 W. E. (Cawrdat), 109 
 Julius CcGsar, 163 
 Jupiter, the planet, 200 
 
 K. 
 
 Karnes, Lord, 168 
 
 Keble Memorial (Bishop of Oxford's 
 
 Sermon), 154 
 Keightley, 7, 288 
 King, Lord, 100 
 
 Kinglake (" Crimean War"), 176, 209 
 Kingsley, Charles, 114 
 Koran, ihe, 58 
 
 Lablache, 189 
 Lacretelle, 61 
 
 Landseer, Sir Edwin (Lions in Tra- 
 falgar Square), 98 
 Lanfrey, (" Histoire de Napoleon I." ), 
 
 135, 137, 140, 158, 181, 182, 195 
 " Lardner's EncyclopaBdia," 105 
 Lateau, Louise, 289 
 Law Courts, designs for the, 96 
 Lecky, 186, 242, 246—249 
 Legend of Abraham, 58, 59 
 
 Indian version of Beddgelert, 
 75,76 
 Legends, 100 
 
 Indian and Em-opean (Magician 
 of Toledo), iHustratiag the 
 maxim, " A base person should 
 not be raised to high estate," 
 76—80, 149, 150 
 Indian, 66—69, 160—163 
 Mention of Welsh, 4, 5 
 Slavonic, on the Creation of the 
 
 AVorld, 202—207 
 Welsh, in Keightley' s " Fairy 
 Mythology," 7 
 Leland, 8 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci, 219 
 Leopold, King of the Belgians, 23 
 Lever, Charles, 131 
 Lewes, G. H., 146, 278, 287 
 Lewis, Sir George, 279 
 Lady Theresa, 43, 63 
 . Lhuid, 123 
 
 ' Life a good thing, 296, 297 
 Lincoln (Wordsworth), appointment 
 
 of the Bishop of, 170 
 Linnaeus, 119 
 Litlre, 216 
 Llanarth, Welsh motto of, 281—283 
 
 Llandegai, antiquities of, 91 
 Llanover, 277, 281 
 
 Lady, 15G, 281 
 Llewelyn, Prince, 38 
 London, the, 56 
 London, 29, 195 
 
 Preference of the country to, 69, 
 70, 132, 133, 156 
 
 Bishop of, 169, 170 
 Longfellow, H. W., 44 
 Louis XIV., 260 
 Louise, Princess, 107 
 Lovelace, Earl and Countess, 100 
 Lowe, K., 71, 98 
 Lubbock, Sir John (" Prehistoric 
 
 Times "), 43 
 Luini, Bernardino, 104 
 Luther, 234 
 
 Lyell, Sir Charles, 43, 70 
 Lytton, Lord, 14, 292 
 
 " King Arthur," 19, 22 
 
 " Essay on the Reig-n of Terror," 
 142 
 
 View of Robespierre's character, 
 146 
 
 M. 
 
 Macaulay, Lord, 40, 44, 97 
 MacCoU, Malcolm, 287, 288 
 Mackonochie case, 139 
 Macmillan' s Magazine, articles in, 48, 
 
 223, 268, 289 
 Magician of Toledo, legend of, 77 — 
 
 80, 149, 150 
 Mahomet, Life of, by Colonel Muir, 
 
 106 
 Malibran, 189 
 
 Mamoun, Caliph, story of, 57, 58 
 Manners, Lord John, 107, 118 
 Manning, Cardinal, 26, 27, 262, 266, 
 
 277, 278 
 Marat, 147 
 
 Marcet, Mrs. ("Dialogues"), 57 
 Margam, 41 
 Marie Alacoque, 293 
 Martin, Henri, 28, 29, 74, 103, 209, 
 
 301 
 
 » Histoire de France," 60, 61, 91, 
 105 
 Martineau, Harriet, 57 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, 214, 221— 
 
 223 
 "Mastland Manse," 288 
 Melbourne, Viscount, 134 
 " Memoires d'un Protestant con- 
 
 damne aux Galeres," 90 
 Memory, 45, 264, 265 
 " Mendelssohn's Letters," 43 
 Menolaus, 111 
 Menu, 214, 215 
 Merchant Taylors' Hall, 30, 188— 
 
 190
 
 326 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Merivale, Herman (" Historical .Stu- 
 dies"), 29 
 ]\Iorlin's prophecies, 5, 6 
 Mcrodo, 14 
 Metaphysics, 265, 266 
 Meteoric shower, 124 
 Meteoroliths, 113 
 Meyer, Dr. Carl, 15, 199, 200 
 Michelet (" Insect Book "), 291 
 " Middlemarch," 278, 287 
 Mignet (" Notices Historiques"), 89, 
 
 90 
 Mikn, 104, 111, 112 
 Milky Way, 220, 221 
 MiU, J. S., treatment of, 71, 72 
 
 Speech on Female Snflrage, 114, 
 
 115 
 His temperament, 171 
 Persecution of Governor Eyre, 
 
 171 
 His "Autobiography " and cha- 
 racter, 295 
 Millais, 114, 116 
 Minnesota, hurricane in, 291 
 Minto, Countess ("Life of Elliot"), 
 
 199 
 Mistakes, influence of, upon present 
 
 and future, 45 
 IMoltke, 281 
 Montalembert, 234 
 Montefiore, 8ir Moses, 271 
 Montlosier, 230 
 
 Moon, eclipse of the (1870), 228 
 Moors, 58 
 Blorris, William (" Earthly Paradise," 
 
 &c.), 174, 208, 209, 280 
 Muir, Colonel ("Life of Mahomet "), 
 
 106 
 Miiller, Max, 139, 186 
 ]\Iuloch, ISIiss, 23, 24 
 Murray, IMiss, 39—41 
 
 Her " Letters from America," 
 
 44, 45, 48, 49 
 Lord George, 39 
 Blurska, lima de, 191 
 Myths, 221 
 
 N. 
 Napier, Sir Charles, anecdote of, 55 
 Napoleon L, 135, 158, 181, 182, 254 
 
 His falsification of his own his- 
 tory at St. Helena, 136 
 
 Compared, as a captain, with 
 WeUing-ton, 138 
 
 Confidence in his star, 138 
 
 Ambition of, 138 
 
 His power after the Eussian 
 disaster to conclude peace on 
 three occasions, 139 
 
 His perversions of contemporary 
 history in his memorials, 140 
 
 His indiiicrencctohuman life, 1 10 
 
 Napoleon I. — Affair of the Col do 
 Tende, 140 
 
 Poisoning of the soldiers at 
 
 Jafi"a, 140 
 His order for the execution of 
 
 2,500 Turks, 140, 141 
 His selfishness, 141, 148 
 Cupidity, 149 
 
 The Reign of Terror an element 
 to be taken into account in his 
 character, 142 
 A partisan of liobesjpierre, 142, 
 
 143 
 His likeness to Bunson, 154 
 Napoleon III., 72, 73, 75, 228, 229, 
 
 231, 252, 253, 288, 291 
 National Gallery, 185 
 Nero, 138 
 Newton, Mrs., 56 
 Nicholas, Emperor of Russia, 254 
 Nicholas VI., 267 
 Niebuhr, 154 
 
 Nilsson, Mademoiselle, 191 
 Noailles, Memoii'es de Madame dc, 
 
 90 
 Norfolk, Duke of, and others, position 
 with regard to the Infallibility 
 Decree, 250—252 
 
 Unconscious of that j)osition, 
 257—259 
 Novel writers, their fluctuations, 83 
 Novels, 292 
 
 O. 
 
 Old Testament Revision Company, 
 230 
 Bishop Thirlwall appointed to, 
 226 
 Otho's suicide, 247 
 Oxford, Bishop of. See Wilberforce. 
 
 Paganini, 189 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette, 262 
 
 Palmerston, Viscount, 91, 92 
 
 Pan- Anglican Synod, 119 
 
 Paradol, Prevost, 249 
 
 Paraguay, 180 
 
 Paris, 269 
 
 ParUamentof 1868, 172 
 
 Pasta, 189 
 
 Peacock, Japanese, 197, 19S, 224 
 
 Peel, Sir Robert, 94, 134 
 
 Pennant's " Tour in Wales," 8 
 
 Perowne, Canon, 80, 257 
 
 Persecution, religious, 268 
 
 Philhps, 186 
 
 Philpotts, Bishop, 42 
 
 Pisaroni, 189 
 
 Pius IX., 27, 234 
 
 His good intentions, 13 
 Fluctuations of iiurposc, 1"
 
 INDEX. 
 
 327 
 
 Pius IX., Gualterio's account of him, 
 
 13,14 
 Deputation to (1871), 250, 251 
 His infallibility, 258—262 
 Plato, 252—266 
 I'luinptrc, Professor, 91 
 Plymouth Brethren, 231 
 Poetry, Carlyle's protest against, 239 
 Politics, ladies', 64, 65 
 Poole, Reginald, 132 
 Pope, Alexander, 33, 168 
 Prague, Society for the Cultivation 
 
 of the Bohemian Language and 
 
 Literature at, 206 
 PresteigTi, 26 
 " Primitiae," by Connop Thirlwall, 
 
 156, 156 
 Progress, variance of opinion the 
 
 condition of, 193 
 Protestant movement in Italy, 20, 21 
 Prussia, 71, 72, 75 
 Prussian terms of peace (1871), 255 
 Pugh, Owen, 123 
 Purgatory, 296 
 
 Q. 
 
 Quarterly Reviciv, articles in the, 132 
 "Queen of the Air" (Ruskin), 217, 
 
 218 
 auoen, the, 23, 41, 66, 106, 107, 109, 
 258 
 
 "Diary" of, translated into 
 Welsh, 153, 154 
 " Quirinus," by the author of 
 " Janus," 262 
 
 R. 
 
 Radnorshire, 6, 26 
 
 Ramsay, Professor, 262 
 
 Ravignan, Pere, 196 
 
 Reading, allusions to, 56, 83, 151, 
 
 176, 263, 264, 270, 271, 279, 280, 
 
 283, 293, 294 
 Record, the, 54, 66 
 Reform demonstration (186"), 95 
 
 Picture in Fun, 96 
 Remusat, Charles de, 44 
 Renan, 233 
 
 Repentance of sin and sitjs, 46 
 Resolution, Bishop Thirlwall's, with 
 
 regard to the Revision Companies, 
 
 240, 241 
 Bishop of Winchester's, 240, 
 241 
 Revision Company, Old Testament, 
 
 303 
 Bevue des deux Mondes, articles in, 
 
 131, 135, 199, 233, 249, 270, 271, 
 
 302 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshiia, 196 
 Richmond, 33 
 Riddle supposed to be by Bishop 
 
 Thirlwall or Bishop Wilboi-force, 
 
 120 
 Ritual Commission, 125, 139, 175, 
 
 181 
 Ritualism, 133 
 
 At Tenby, 130—132 
 Robertson, F. W., Sermons and Life 
 
 of, 54, 65, 66 
 
 "Life and Lotters," 61—63 
 Robespierre, Lord Lytton's remark 
 
 on, 142, 143 
 
 Character of, 146—148 
 Rogers, Samuel, 97 
 Roman Catholic faith, 296 
 Rome, weather in (1869), 183 
 Rossetti, Chiistina, 69 
 
 Gabriele, 71 
 Routh, Dr., 271 
 
 Rowland (Welsh Grammar), 81 
 Rubens ("Rainbow Landscape"), 19G 
 Rubini, 189 
 Rubric Conunission, Bishop Thirlwall 
 
 placed on the, 117 
 Rumour, nature and value of, 166 
 Ruskin, John (" Queen of the Air"), 
 
 217 
 
 Views of Botany, 119, 120 
 Russell, Earl, 64, 96, 154, 155 
 
 S. 
 Sabbath, Puritanical observance of 
 
 the, 93 
 Sainte-Beuve, 74, 89, 168 
 St. Hilaire, Barthelemy (Life of 
 Mahomet), 106 
 
 Chrysostom, 222 
 
 David's Cathedral, 38, 41 
 
 Gothard, 104 
 
 Helena, 136 
 
 James, 94 
 
 John's College, Cambridge, 191 
 
 Meugan, chapel of, 8 
 
 Pavil, 17 
 
 His view of death, 244 
 
 Paul's, 30 
 
 Peter, 163 
 
 Swithin, 280 
 
 Teresa, 289 
 Sand, Georges ("Homme do Neige"), 
 
 233 
 San-Marte, 6 
 Sartoris, Jlr., 194 
 
 Mrs., 195—197 
 Saturday Rcvieiv, articles in, 95, ICO, 
 
 175, 176 
 Saturn, the planet, 116 
 Savage, Marmion, 60, 61 
 Schultc, v., 262, 267 
 Schwenck, 123 
 Scilly, etymology of, 3, 4 
 Scott, Sir Gilbert, 191 
 
 Designs for the Law Courts, 96
 
 328 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Sodgwick, Adam, 143, 290 
 Somshncss, 148—150 
 Sepoy mutiny, 49 
 Sermon, 196 
 Sermons, 159, 235, 304 
 
 F. W. Kobertson's, G2, 63, 65, 66 
 Sevigne, Madame de, 43 
 Shaftesbury, Earl of, 132 
 Siddons, ]\Ii-s., 181 
 Sirius, 221 
 Skene (" The Four Ancient Books of 
 
 Wales"), 175 
 Slavonic Christmas Carol, 202 
 
 Legends, 203—207 
 Sligo, 62 
 
 Smith, " Bobus," 75 
 Goldvvdn, 188 
 Sydney, 75, 189, 302 
 Socrates, 74, 244, 266 
 Somerville,,Mrs., 290 
 Souvestre, Emile (" Chroniques de la 
 
 Mer"),91 
 Spain, Queen of, 163 — 165 
 Spaniards, 58 
 Spanish verbal liberality, 57 
 
 Prospects (1868), 165 
 Sparta, Marquis of. 111 
 Sjicdator, articles in the, 22, 126, 
 
 170, 249, 250 
 Spenser, Edmund, 124, 125 
 Spirits, present agency of departed, 
 
 18, 19 
 Stanley, Lady Augusta, 23, 38, 181 
 Dean, 38, 60, 169, 241, 270 
 Lord (now Earl of Derby), 25 
 Amendment on Gladstone's 
 Irish Church resolutions, 
 155 
 Stapleton Castle, 26 
 Stephens, Miss, 189 
 Stokes, Whitley, 290 
 " Stone Edge " (Lady Vemey), 158, 
 
 159 
 Storks, Sir H., 50 
 Strawberry Hill, 33 
 Street's designs for Law Courts, 96 
 " Student," the, by Lord Lytton, 14, 
 
 19 
 Sumner, 188 
 
 Sun, eclipse of the, article on, in the 
 Cornhill Magazine, 159, 160 
 Heat of the, 220 
 SjTiagogue, prayers offered in the, 
 for the Prince of Wales, 271 
 
 Taine ("Histoire de la Litterature 
 Anglaise"), 31, 32, 124, 125 
 
 Talbot, Mr., of Margam, 41 
 
 Talk, chapters on, in the CornhiU 
 Magazine, 131, 149 
 
 Talleyrand, 142, 174 
 
 Talmud, articles on the, 131, 132 
 Tau Coronaj, 199, 200 
 Taylor, Bayard, 97 
 Teddington Locks, 33 
 Tegid (Mr. Jones), 15 
 Temple, the, 196, 197 
 
 Bishop, 221 
 Tenby, 41 
 
 Ritualism at, 130, 131 
 Tennyson, Alfred (" The Holy 
 
 Grail"), 209, 216 
 Thackeray, Miss, 75, 278 
 Thames Embankment, 118, 196 
 Thiers, 60, 136, 209, 232, 254, 265 
 Thomas, Meredyth, 176 
 
 John (Pencerdd Gwalia), 191 
 "Tichboume Dole," the, 99, 100 
 
 Case, 269 
 Tippoo Sahib, his toy tiger at the 
 
 India Office, 188 
 Tiresius, 111 
 Titus, 138 
 Torquay, 42, 47 
 Tower, the, 118 
 Traheme, Mr., 81 
 Trajan, 138 
 Travellers, delight of, to find they 
 
 have seen something wliich others 
 
 lost, 104 
 Tregelles, Dr., 231 
 Tre'r Ddol, 8 
 
 Trinity Lodge, Cambridge, 191 
 Turks, execution of 2,500 by order of 
 
 Napoleon L, 140, 141 
 Tyndall, John, 163 
 
 Lectures on " Faraday as a Dis- 
 coverer," 133—135 
 Tywy Piver, its former course at 
 
 Abergwili, 39 
 
 U. 
 
 Ullathorne, Koman Catholic Bishop, 
 
 27 
 " Uncle Tom," 45 
 Urban II., 267 
 
 Vandcrvelde, 196 
 
 Varese, 104 
 
 Vassalus, etymology of, 1 23 
 
 Vaughan the Silurist, 283 
 
 Vaults, inspection of the, imder 
 
 House of Lords, 132 
 Vaux, Mr., 98 
 
 Venetia, Austrian cession of, 72 
 Vigne, Alfred de la, 164, 165 
 Villemarqu6, De la, 65 
 Vitrified fort at Inverness, 175 
 
 W. 
 
 Wace's " Brut," 6 
 
 Wales, Prince of, 25, 26, 30, 271
 
 INDEX. 
 
 329 
 
 Wall.icti's "Ni^lit Winds," 182, 183 
 Wiilpolo, Horace, 44, 53, 56, 57 
 War, Austro-Gonnan, 71, 7'2 
 
 Declaration of, between France 
 
 and Germany, 227 
 Franco-German, 228, 229, 231, 
 232 
 Washington, 138 
 Water-break-its-neck, 26 
 Wellington, Duke of, 34 
 
 Contrasted with Napoleon I., 
 138 
 Welsh and Saxon descent of Bishop 
 Thirlwall, 26 
 Books, 109, 110 
 Grammars, 80, 81 
 Harp, 25 
 
 Legends, allusions to, 4, 5, 7 
 Language, 23 
 
 Names of places characteristic, 
 179 
 Wentworth, Lord, 97, 98 
 Wesley, John, 283 
 Westminster Abbey, Edward Davis's 
 bust of Bishop Thirlwall for, 15 
 George Grote's funeral in, 270 
 
 Westminster Gazette, 2CG, 2G8 
 Wilberforco, Bishop, 35, 154, 190 
 
 Resolution (1871) with regard 
 to the Eevision Companies, 
 240, 241 
 Speech on the Athanasian 
 Creed, 279 
 Williams, Rowland, 217 
 
 I\Iiss Jane, of Abcrporg^vm, 7 
 Windsor Castle, 23, 106, 107 
 Wordsworth, William, 195 
 Wynn, Sir Watk-in Williams, 189 
 Charlotte Williams, her " Diaries 
 and Letters," 293—295 
 Wynne, Edith, 190, 191 
 
 Xantippe, 74 
 
 X. 
 
 Y. 
 
 York, Archbishop of, 193 
 
 Z. 
 
 Zoological Gardens, 30, 34 
 Zoology, 120 
 
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