OF 
 
 Bishop England. 
 
AS Soe 
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 eon 
 
Phe Right Reverend 
 
 1 \, Ceres rind y pyr | 
 Hohn Lugland, o. 0. 
 Hovun in the City of Cork, iveland, 
 
 Ya 
 
 ad 
 
 dl Sept’y, 1786; 
 Consecrated Hishop at Charleston, 
 
 Zitst September, 1920; 
 
 de 
 
 Died, Lith April, 1842. 
 
 Awenty Acarvs 
 
 Chaplain, Hriend, and Counsellor 
 ®t the 
 dMashington Light dutantry, 
 Ot 
 
 Charleston, S. C€. 
 
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 fi | 
 
 ; : (| EN only feventeen years old, he was the re- 
 ligious inftructor of the Cork Militia, {tdtioned 
 in Carlow, Ireland; and, in after -life, often eX- 
 prefled his delight, that his miffion, like that ‘of St. 
 
 Francis de Sales, had its commencement among the 
 
 MT Gel T ACR: 
 
 **I muft do my duty, if I fall at the Altar! All 1 afk of you 
 is, that you will take me home.” 
 
 LAST PUBLIC SERMON, BAL’TIMORE, 
 
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 YIU WSS, 
 
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 ld 
 4 
 GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE 
 Oo Peat E lek 
 CHAPLAIN, COUNSELLOR,AND FRIEND; 
 THESE 
 ere by dees) soe HIS YW ORI Hs 
 EeOo BED FROM HIS COTEMPORARIES, 
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[Editorial of ‘* Charleston Courier,’ April 12, 1842. ] 
 Pea fi) rb eee © P EN Gale aN De 
 
 We announce, with unfeigned regret, the death of this 
 eminent and distinguished prelate. He breathed his last 
 about five o'clock, yesterday morning, after a protracted and 
 painful illness, in the fifty-sixth year of his age. He was a 
 native of Ireland, and for the last twenty-two years resided 
 in this city—during which period he presided over the Dio- 
 cese comprising the States of North Carolina, South Caro- 
 lina, and Georgia. He was distinguished for strength of 
 mind, power of argument, deep and various learning, and a 
 bold and impressive eloquence, and was justly ranked among 
 the intellectual and literary ornaments of our city. Asa 
 prelate, he conducted the civil and ecclesiastical affairs of his 
 Church (the Roman Catholic) with consummate ability, and 
 has left behind him many monuments of religion and be- 
 nevolence, the fruits of his successful administration and un- 
 wearied zeal. Devoted, as he was, to the interests of the 
 Church to which he owed his mitre, he was yet a man of 
 liberal principles and feelings, alive to the impulses of pub- 
 lic spirit, and to the influences of universal charity. During 
 his long residence among us, his high and merited influence 
 over his flock was ever exercised for good, and his deport- 
 ment was such as to win for him the esteem and regard of 
 the community. Though his native country was ever green 
 in his memory and dear to his heart, his allegiance to his 
 adopted country was recognized as his highest duty, as well 
 from inclination as principle. 
 
 He sympathized deeply with the free institutions and the 
 
6 RECOLLECTIONS OF BISHOP ENGLAND, 
 
 clorious destinies of the American Union, valuing it as the 
 home of his oppressed and exiled fellow-countrymen, and 
 the chosen temple of rational liberty. 
 
 Of the South, he was a true friend and an able champion, 
 fearlessly throwing the weight of his character, influence, and 
 intellect, in favor of her much misunderstood and much re- 
 viled institutions, and vindicated them, both at home and 
 abroad. In the death of one, thus eminent in his calling and 
 useful in his generation, his Church has sustained a loss 
 which can scarcely be repaired, and our community owns 
 the bereavement of a gifted and valued citizen. 
 
 The obsequies of this lamented prelate will be celebrated 
 at the Cathedral offste Finbar, ateten yo clock. Wy sane 
 the clergy of all denominations, the different societies of 
 which he was a member, his friends and acquaintances, and 
 the citizens generally, are invited to attend the solemn cere- 
 mony, and pay the last sad tribute to departed worth. 
 
 The bells of St. Michael’s tolled yesterday, and the ship- 
 ping in the harbor wore their colors at half mast, in honor of 
 the deceased; and, as a further testimony of respect to his 
 memory, the general review of troops, which was to have 
 taken place this day, is postponed, by order of His Excellen- 
 cy the Governor, until to-morrow. 
 
 [Editorial of * Charleston Mercury,’ April 12, 1842.] 
 
 Bishop ENGLAND will be sincerely lamented by all our 
 citizens. He was a man of rare talents, of various learning, 
 eloquent, public-spirited, one cqually capable of adorning the 
 walks of private life, and meeting the emergencies of public 
 duty: When such men die, they leave a wide gap in socie- 
 ty, and we wait long before we see their places worthily 
 filled. Bishop ENGLAND has resided among us for more 
 than twenty years, and during that time he has conciliated 
 an esteem, so general, that that class must be small, indeed, 
 which will not sympathise with his more immediate friends 
 in this melancholy bereavement. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF: BISHOP; ENGLAND. 7 
 [Editorial of ‘‘ Charleston Patriot,’’? April 11, 1842.] 
 
 Thus has been extinguished, in its meridian lustre, one of 
 the most brilliant lights of the Catholic Church in the West- 
 ern hemisphere—a divine, who illustrated the duties of his 
 lofty calling by his personal example—whose religious zeal 
 was ever fervent—whose philanthropy knew no discrimina- 
 tion of class, sect, or country—whose ability was unques- 
 tioned—whose learning was ample—whose energies knew no 
 abatement by adverse influences—whose eloquence was 
 prompt, enriched with the treasures of thought, and enforc- 
 ing the truths of religion, with equal force of argument and 
 fervor of diction, and who has gone down to the tomb with 
 the profound regrets of the community in which he lived, 
 the intense sorrow of his afflicted congregation, and the 
 agonizing grief of a large circle of friends. Honor to his 
 memory, and reverence to his virtues. 
 
 [From the ‘‘ Savannah Republican ”] 
 
 The Bishop was well known in this country, and in Eu- 
 rope, not only as an enlightened and zealous prelate, but as 
 a profound and elegant scholar, and one of those men, whose 
 courteous deportment and easy address, recommend them to 
 society, and enable them to wield an important influence. 
 
 [From the “Savannah Georgian.” | 
 
 Of him it may well be said, that he united untiring zeal in 
 the fulfillment of his arduous duties, to intense solicitude for 
 the promotion of a chaste style of scientific and literary at- 
 tainments, and to an ardent desire for the preservation of 
 social order, and the wide diffusion of a correct knowledge 
 of our civil institutions amongst the countries of Europe, 
 which he frequently visited, during past years, in the dis- 
 charge of his diocesan duties. It is not our object, at pres- 
 ent, to do more than sympathise in the sad bereavement of 
 
5 RECOLCLECTIGNS- OF BISHOP ENGLAND; 
 
 that Church, of whose ministry he was a highly gifted and 
 revered dignitary; whose profound and varied learning, glow- 
 ing eloquence, unostentatious piety, indomitable exertions 
 for establishing a system of moral and useful education, and 
 uniform liberality to his fellow-citizens, endeared him alike 
 to those whose spiritual destinies he guided according to his 
 faith, in the observance of the Christian code, and all others, 
 without distinction of creed or country, by whom he was 
 known, for the eminent wisdom of his counsel, and the ac- 
 
 tive benevolence of his heart. 
 
 [From the ‘*t Catholic Herald,” Philadelphia. ] 
 
 As his philanthropy was extensive, so is his loss deplored, 
 with a grief, not circumscribed, or limited to sect or party, 
 but reaching in its course across the wide Atlantic, where 
 his loss will be mourned, as here; for there, too, were his 
 virtues known, and the blessed effects of his charity and tal- 
 ents felt and acknowledged. 
 
 [From the ‘* New England Reporter.” | 
 
 His was the glory of enumerating, among his admirers, the 
 ereat Protestant body of America. 
 
 [From the ‘* Southern Review,” Ne. 1.] 
 He was, emphatically, the restorer of classical learning in 
 Charleston. 
 
 [From the Memorial Mceting of the ‘* Washington Light Infantry,’ April 25th, 1842. ] 
 
 It is with no ordinary feelings of sorrow, that the Wash- 
 ington Light Infantry, publicly recognizes the loss from 
 among its members, of the Right Reverend Bishop ENG- 
 LAND. The eloquent tones that have stirred our hearts, as 
 with the sound of the trumpet, shall.no more command and 
 
RECOLLECTIONS -OR BISHOP ENGLAND. Q) 
 
 arrest our attention. The lips ever devoted to the advancce- 
 ment of virtue and religion, are forever mute, frozen into 
 silence by the icy hand of death. The earnest vindicator of 
 the liberty of his native land, the devoted admirer and con- 
 stant advocate of the institutions of his adopted country— 
 the man of unimpeached and unimpeachable character, of 
 intellect and acquirement wide and far reaching, of imagina- 
 tion fervid and poetic—the Priest of self-denying and self- 
 sacrificing virtues, whom all men, of every sect and faith, 
 delighted to honor—the careful, and sleepless watcher over 
 the flock committed to his care—has finished his earthly 
 course. To us, he was endeared by the relations he bore to 
 our corps—by the recollection of the address which he deliv- 
 ered before this Company—and by the readiness he evinced 
 to render us any service that circumstances might require. 
 His eulogy is in the deep grief of his friends; in the pas- 
 sionate mourning of the thousand hearts to whom he was 
 the day star of hope, the light upon their thorny path of life. 
 His epitaph is written in the enduring affection of the widow 
 and the orphan; the homeless and the forlorn, whom in life 
 he cherished and sustained. Their prayers, are the incense 
 round his tomb—their tears, the libation over his ashes. 
 
 [From a Memoir by Wm. Geo. Read. ] 
 
 Bishop ENGLAND was a man of transcendent and various 
 ability. Had his genius been directed exclusively to arms, 
 or to politics, or to letters, he might have twined the sham- 
 rock with the laurel or the bay, as triumphantly as a WEL- 
 LINGTON, a GRATTAN, or a BURKE. In a different age of 
 the Church, he would have been classed with her GREGORIES 
 and ALCUINS. 
 
 * * *" He infused new life, by his energy,into the Phil- 
 osophical and Literary Association of which he continued, 
 till death, an honored and useful member ; applying his unri- 
 valed powers to instruct and please, as happily to subjects of 
 scientific or critical contemplation, as to the more aecus- 
 
 oo 
 
 ~ 
 
1O RECOLLECTIONS, OF. BISHOP ENGLAND. 
 
 tomed topics of his sacred calling; but ever aiming to hallow 
 his intellectual offering, and direct the attention of his de- 
 lighted auditory, from the wonders of nature, or the beauti- 
 ful creations of mind, to “the Author of every good and 
 perfect cifti® 
 * * * He witnessed with grief and horror, the Moloch 
 ravages of that mis-named spirit of honor, that so often carries 
 desolation to the bosom of Southern society; quenching in 
 the blood of its victim, the hopes of an admiring country, or 
 of domestic affection. He rallied about him the chivalry of 
 Carolina, inan Anti-Dueling Society, of which Gen. THOMAS 
 PINCKNEY, of Revolutionary fame, was the venerated Presi- 
 dent; and through his own personal activity, backed by the 
 moral influence of that Association, many hostile meetings 
 were prevented, and valuable lives most probably preserved. 
 I have listened to him, as with merry triumph, and unspar- 
 ing but playful ridicule, he has talked over, with a gallant 
 officer, their counter manceuvres, on one most interesting 
 occasion, and rejoiced over his opponent's baffled love of 
 mischief. 
 a oo * But hercagmonlyabe siustly sappreciatea mam 
 those who knew him in the pastoral charge. When that 
 frightful scourge, the Strangers, or Yellow Fever, desolated 
 Charleston, he wasever at his post. This is nothing new or 
 strange, to those who know the Catholic Priesthood. But 
 when the Protestants of Charleston saw this apostolic man 
 hurrying under the fiery noons of August and September, or 
 the deadly midnight dew, to assist and console the victim of 
 the plague, usually of the humblest and the poorest, they 
 could not but exclaim, in the sincerity of their wonder and 
 admiration, ‘‘ this is a Christian Charity!’ I am not deal- 
 ing in imaginary suppositions. I repeat but the language of 
 honored and beloved relatives and friends, who have no ac- 
 quaintance with him, who have never listened to his doc- 
 trine, who would as soon have questioned their own _per- 
 sonal identity, as the infallible truth of the religious tenets in 
 which they had been educated, but who gave the cheerful 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF BISHOP ENGLAND. I] 
 
 testimony of honesty and gratitude, to virtues which were 
 voiced by the whole community. A near relative of mine, 
 speaking of him to me, said: “I met him one forenoon, 
 while the fever was at the highest, brushing along through 
 perhaps the hottest street in the city; when I tell you he 
 was blazing, I do not exaggerate—he was literally blazing ! 
 The fire sparkled from his cheeks and flashed from his eyes! 
 I shook hands with him, and, as we parted, thought to my- 
 self, ‘my dear fellow, you will soon have enough of this! ”’ 
 But his work was not yet done. No! for season after sea- 
 son, amid vice, squalidity, and wretchedness, where intem- 
 perance, perhaps, kept maudlin watch by the dying or the 
 dead, while the sob of sorrow was broken by the shriek of 
 destitution and despair, there still stood Bishop ENGLAND, 
 the Priest, the father, and the friend—to assure the peni- 
 tent—to alarm the sinner—to succor and to pity—daptisced 
 again and again—unto his holy function, zz that frightful 
 black vomit—the direst symptom of the malady ! 
 
 =e. It Bwere tovattempt to déscribe thée-style‘of- his 
 controversial discourses, I would liken it to a straight bar of 
 polished steel, connecting his conclusion with his premises, 
 with the lightning of heaven blazing and flashing about it. 
 
 He reminded me, in his intercourse with other men, 
 whether allies or opponents, of a good humored giant mov- 
 ing among pigmies; whom he was careful not to tread on, 
 but would sometimes dandle playfully between his fingers. 
 I never knew a person who had so much consideration for 
 the errorand prejudices of other men. He knewthe myste- 
 rious structure of the human mind, and felt that, most fre- 
 quently, they were more sinned against than sinning. 
 
 His liberality was not limited by the Christian pale. Many 
 of my readers must remember, the deep solicitude he felt for 
 the admission, to the entire rights of citizens of Maryland, 
 of the scattered children of ABRAHAM; and which he ex- 
 pressed in a letter to a gentleman of Baltimore, who had 
 distinguished himself in the Maryland Legislature, by his 
 eloquent advocacy of their claim. 
 
ihe RECOLLECTIONS, OF BISHOP ENGLAND, 
 
 — 
 
 God had sent an angel to assist his labors, and cheer him 
 fora time! An accomplished, young, and lovely sister, left 
 the ocean breezes of her own green Isle, and all the endear- 
 ments and comforts of home, to minister to this idolized 
 brother in the stranger-soil of Carolina. She threw her little 
 fortune into his poverty-stricken institutions. Her elegant 
 taste, presided over the literary department of the ‘‘ Miscel- 
 lany.” Her feminine tact would smooth away whatever 
 harshness his earnest temper might unconsciously infuse 
 into his controversial writings. When he sometimes rebelled 
 against her censorship, “with childish authority she would 
 cling about him,” till he yielded to her gentle jurisdiction. 
 Her presence shed a magic charm around his humble 
 dwelling, and made it the envied resort of the talented, the 
 beautiful, and the gay. No pastoral vigilance could prevent 
 the sweet virgins of the South from loving Joanna England ; 
 and a portionless Irish maiden, gave fox, in old, aristocratic 
 Charleston. She infused into her young companions, a taste 
 for more exalted enjoyments, than the empty display of 
 exterior accomplishment and graces. She introduced “ ter- 
 tulias’’ for conversation of a higher order, than obtains at 
 mere fashionable assemblies. She constituted a golden tie 
 between the Bishop and the highest class of the communi- 
 ty; “and some who came to laugh” with her, “ remained 
 to pray” with him. I knew this charming woman, who ex- 
 hibited before us in one bright vision, the blended graces of 
 this world and the next. Too soon for earth, she was called 
 away from her joyous task of usefulness and love. In 1827, 
 she died of ‘ stranger’s fever,” and it was then, while sitting 
 in a room adjacent to that where slept her lifeless form, I 
 held by the hand that desolate brother, and our hearts 
 melted into one, forever. 
 
 “ * * JT might sum up the evidence of his greatness and 
 his virtues, by the fact, that in that city, where he had lived 
 so long, had encountered so much opposition, had been con- 
 strained to so many painful duties, the apprehension of a 
 fatal termination to his malady, involved the whole com- 
 
RECOLLECTIONS: OF BISHOP ENGLAND. 13 
 
 munity in anxiety and affliction; that the Hebrew and the 
 Protestant, as earnestly as the Catholic, sent up their pray- 
 ers to God, that he might be spared to earth a little longer ; 
 and that when the pulsations of that mighty heart at last 
 stood still, the occupations of society were suspended too— 
 while those who had assailed him in embittered controversy, 
 and those who sincerely believed him the advocate of error, 
 as well as they who regarded him as a glorious messenger of 
 truth, came together in a sense of common bereavement, all 
 jealousies forgotten in the remembrance of his splendid abili- 
 ties, his learning, his usefulness, his true-heartedness, his 
 liberality, his charity, his kindly cheer, to incense his coffin 
 with their sighs, and sprinkle it with the holy water of their 
 unchecked grief. 
 
 [From Memorial Meeting, St. Mary’s, Ga.] 
 
 In him, the nobler and sterner qualities which give digni- 
 ty to our nature, were harmoniously united with the gentler 
 virtues; as you may on some occasions have witnessed the 
 brilliancy of the setting day, commingling with the beautiful 
 light of the newly risen moon, bestowing and receiving beau- 
 ty—the one deepened and strengthened, the other softened 
 and purified in its hue. 
 
 [From Tribute of the Hibcrnian Society, Charleston—Hon. A. G. Magrath. ] 
 
 To such nobility of heart, kindred generosity would pay 
 its homage, even if a difference existed. And few could 
 witness without the deepest sensibility, and none who wit- 
 nessed, will ever forget, the mute, yet eloquent, tribute to 
 his worth, which a distinguished antagonist paid to his cold, 
 senseless remains. When life’s struggle was over, and his 
 body was about to be interred, one who had combated with 
 the doctrines of his Church, stood gazing upon the marble 
 features, now sleeping in colorless repose. The eye that was 
 once bright with zeal, was shut forever upon the world—the 
 tongue, so eloquent and convincing, was hushed and still in 
 
14 RECOLLECTIONS OF BISHOP ENGLAND. 
 
 the narrow limits of his coffn—the frame so strong in life, 
 was cold and powerless in death. 7/ere was the victory of 
 death—+¢here the triumph of God’s will. And he who gazed 
 upon that body, had now come to change the excitement of 
 contest, for the meditation of death.* In that coffin was 
 written the awful commentary of a superior power, and the 
 burning tear that coursed down the cheek of him who yet 
 survived, was the most beautiful and affecting tribute from 
 the generosity of the living, to the merit and excellence of 
 the dead. | 
 
 LA See! O MURIN See 
 BY AN EYE-WITNESS. 
 
 I premise my narrative, by stating that the disease of 
 which Bishop ENGLAND died, was Typhus Fever ; which in 
 its earliest stages, displayed many of the phenomena of 
 that variety, which has been described as blood fever, and 
 throughout, the latter resembled the more ordinary forms 
 of abdominal typhus. In his case, the operation of the effi- 
 cient causes of this fatal disorder should be traced to a 
 period considerably remote from the commencement of his 
 illness. He remarked to his physicians, that for several 
 years his circulation had been uniformly rapid, his pulse 
 averaging not fewer than ninety strokes in a minute, and 
 that he regarded its acceleration as now habitual, and as a 
 physiological condition of his system. 
 
 In the summer of 1841 he visited Ireland and France, on 
 business relating to the prosperity of his Diocese; encoun- 
 tered danger and fatigue in going; traveled and toiled un- 
 ceasingly whilst there, and returned in the Autumn to the 
 United States. During the homeward voyage, which was 
 very protracted, much sickness prevailed among the passen- 
 
 *The Rev. RicHarp Futter. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF BISHOP: ENGLAND. 15 
 
 eers, to whom he administered both as friend and physician. 
 He was, besides, subjected to a serious cause of uneasiness, 
 by the extreme and protracted illness of the Superioress of 
 the Ursulines, who had accompanied him, and who was re- 
 turning with several ladies under her care to her community 
 in this city. Worn with watching and anxiety, he arrived 
 at Philadelphia, where he was obliged to tarry, in conse- 
 quence of the continued debility of his sick charge. Stimu- 
 lated by the zeal which was consuming him, he almost 
 immediately commenced a course of lectures, in explanation 
 and defence of Catholic doctrine and practice. It was then 
 observed that his general health and his voice were impaired. 
 
 A report of the Bishop’s indisposition preceded his return 
 to Charleston. When he arrived, increased uneasiness was 
 felt concerning his health, and I several times urged him to 
 consult his physician—one by whom he had been repeatedly 
 attended, and between whom and himself a brotherly affec- 
 tion existed. Fora length of time he declined doing so, 
 believing that his disorder was not more serious than what 
 he had often experienced, and which he had heretofore re- 
 moved by domestic physic and dieting. After some perse- 
 verance in his accustomed plan of treatment, finding that he 
 became worse, he desired a medical friend to prescribe for 
 him; who, deeming it important to seize the moment of his 
 willingness to be treated, began a course of medicine and 
 regimen, and very soon procured the attendance of the gen- 
 tleman to whom [I have alluded. Subsequently, a third 
 physician having been so requested, gave his assistance in 
 the management of the case, and during the last week of his 
 continuance, in compliance with the wishes of many of the 
 congregation of St. Mary’s Church, a fourth was invited to 
 the consultations. Among the advantages which accrued 
 from these additions to the number of medical attendants, 
 has been the relief afforded to those who were first engaged, 
 by having their general views corroborated, and the respon- 
 sibility lessened by division among a large body. 
 
 Tor several weeks after the treatment was commenced, it 
 
16 RECOLLECTIONSSOF BISHOP ENGLAND. 
 
 was considered not advisable to confine him to bed, or even 
 to his chamber; he descended daily to his library, and 
 attended to matters of business, which could not be post- 
 poned, or to those duties that he could still perform. When 
 symptoms arose which made it necessary, rest and seclusion 
 were enforced. He complied with the many restrictions 
 which ensued, in just that manner which might have been 
 anticipated—submissive to the decrees of Heaven, and 
 tractable under the requirements of his medical advisers. 
 His demeanor throughout the whole of his sickness was a 
 living imitation of the Saviour’s, in the hour of his approach- 
 ing trial—‘‘ FATHER ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE TO THEE, 
 REMOVE THIS CHALICE FROM ME, BUT NOT WHAT I WILL, 
 BUT WHAT THOU WILST.” He never. condescended to dis- 
 semble his anxiety respecting the issue of his case, yet that 
 anxiety was compatible with perfect acquiescence in the 
 plans of Providence with regard to his death or recovery. 
 He desired to live only that he might prosecute the great 
 work in which he had spent himself, and the only subjects 
 which gave him. any concern were those which were inti- 
 mately connected with the advancement of religion, clean 
 and undefiled before God and the Father. Yo maintain a 
 Seminary, which could furnish recruits for the clergy—to 
 sustain a Convent which might attach successive genera- 
 tions to knowledge and to virtue—to support a Sisterhood, 
 who should weszt the fatherless and widows in their tribula- 
 tions, keeping themselves unspotted from the world—to train 
 up. a people who would adore God in spirit and in truth ; 
 who would stand fast, holding the traditions which they had 
 learned, whether by word or cpistle; who would not be weary 
 of well-doing , and whom he prayed our Lord Fesus Christ 
 himself, and God and our Father to confirm in every good 
 word and work: such were the noble ends, for the attain- 
 ment of which he had devoted his prime of manhood to a 
 life of hardships, for the completion of which he desired still 
 to struggle, but only the first glimpses of which he was 
 allowed to see. The magnitude of these objects seemed 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF BISHOP’ ENGLAND. 17 
 
 now more vast than they ever did; and more solemnly im- 
 pressed with their importance, he spoke with animation of 
 the greater earnestness with which he would (if permitted) 
 strive to promote them. He appeared to deprecate the dis- 
 pleasure of his Lord and Master for having been remiss in 
 their prosecution ; and implied that he considered as unpro- 
 fitable, what we regard as labors, privations, trials, tempta- 
 tions, and self-sacrifices, worthy of being compared with the 
 zeal, and the works of the good and faithful servants of the 
 Church of Christ. 
 
 Perceiving that although the progress of his case was 
 slow, and notwithstanding that it was chequered by periods 
 of seeming improvement, and stages of temporary retarda- 
 tion, its tendency was onward towards an unfavorable ter- 
 mination, he expressed a wish to arrange his temporal 
 concerns, so as to provide for their management after his 
 decease. Of course he was not dissuaded from doing so ; 
 and accordingly a gentieman of the Bar, was requested to 
 wait on himand receive his instructions. Those instructions 
 were condensed and conveyed in the following terms: 
 
 “In ¢hzs matter, I know neither friend nor kindred; I 
 wish my will to be so drawn as to cut off any expectations 
 from either quarter. Everything which I possess, or to 
 which I have a claim, I give to the cause for which I was 
 sent here.” 
 
 The Bishop often adverted to the subject of the last Sa- 
 craments. He informed the attending physician that those 
 rites would be administered at an earlier period in his, than 
 in the case of a private member of the Church, yet that they 
 should not be performed, while there remained a reasonable 
 expectation that the disease might be arrested by medical 
 treatment. That expectation still appeared well founded, 
 and the result of these conversations was a mutual assent 
 to the opinion that the crisis to which he alluded had not 
 arrived. He, however, believed that it was approaching, 
 and anticipated its occurrence, not merely without uneasi- 
 ness, but with a degree of satisfaction, hoping that the mind, 
 
 5 
 ) 
 
18 RECOLLECTIONSIOF BISHOP ENGLAND, 
 
 if not the body also, would be refreshed and invigorated, by 
 partaking those observances with which the Church com- 
 forts her children in extreme illness, and prepares them 
 for walking courageously through the midst of the shadow 
 of death. At length, on the morning of the 5th of April, 
 the medical attendants coincided in the prognosis, that 
 although the struggle would be prolonged for several days, 
 the issue must be fatal. About that time, the Bishop was 
 more oppressed than he had yet been, passing successive 
 hours in a heavy, dosing state, and appearing unconscious 
 of his actual condition. ‘This caused one of the physicians 
 to remark, that as the Bishop trusted to their candidly ap- 
 prising him of the arrival of the time beyond which the 
 administration of the Sacrament of Extreme Unction should 
 not be postponed, it might be necessary to rouse his atten- 
 tion to that fact, and even distinctly to suggest what he 
 desired. I had watched the progress of that oppression, 
 and by occasional trials, had ascertained the extent to which 
 his faculties were affected, and had discovered that whenever 
 any subject was introduced which usually interested him, 
 he completely threw off that lethargy, and could discuss 
 and decide in his habitually clear and prompt manner. I, 
 therefore, replied to the above remark, that I felt sure the 
 Bishop would divine when the critical moment had come, 
 and actaccordingly. The medical consultation being finish- 
 ed, Lascended to his chamber; never so reluctantly. He 
 always expected me after those consultations; and was 
 again ready to review, as on former days, the progress of his 
 case. He considered the importance and bearing of his pre- 
 vious and present symptoms, contemplated their probable 
 effects and termination ; and, pausing thoughtfully, seemed 
 to expect that I had some communication to make. I hes- 
 itated—hoping that he would conjecture, and save me the 
 embarrassment of announcing what was on my mind. Still 
 he seemed afraid to ask explicitly the result of our recent 
 consultation. Just as this disparaging. suspicion began to 
 assume a definite shape, and I to be intensely watchful to 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF: BISHOP ENGLAND. 19 
 
 discover the faintest indication of dread or of indecision, he 
 composedly remarked, that he now considered himself in 
 danger of death, and that unless he could be assured that 
 they might safely be delayed, he would direct that prepara- 
 tions should be immediately made for administering the 
 Sacrament. I assented that necessity existed, and he desir- 
 ed that all of his clergy who were in the city, might be sum- 
 moned to attend at mid-day. At that hour, they entered 
 his apartment, habited in surplices. A Crucifix, which 
 had been hanging from the bed-post, was handed to him. 
 Upon receiving it, he kissed its feet, and ‘said: “Sweet 
 Jesus! who didst deign to die for me in this ignominious 
 manner, regard with compassion the condition of Thy ser- 
 vant, and be with him in the succeeding hour of trial.” 
 Then turning towards the Vicar, he enquired if all were 
 ready, and being answered affirmatively, he rejoined ina 
 voice of solemn command, “In the name of Almighty God 
 proceed.” The preliminary prayers having been recited, he 
 addressed the Clergy, who were kneeling around the bed. 
 
 I beg that [ may not be supposed presumptuous for 
 attempting, by recording a few scattering sentences, to fur- 
 nish a nucleus around which the memory of each who was 
 present, may deposit what he recollects of that exhortation, 
 which for simplicity of style—for natural arrangement, and 
 logical consecutiveness of its several parts—for touching 
 allusions—for ‘plain, unvarnished,”’ forcible, and appro- 
 priate phraseology—for unaffected humility and mild dig- 
 nity of tone, excelled any oration or sermon which we ever 
 heard. Although I can recall only a small part of what he 
 said, that, I report almost in his very words: 
 
 “GENTLEMEN OF THE CLERGY: It is now many years 
 since I was called by God to administer the affairs of his 
 Church in this Diocese. Throughout that period I have 
 encountered great difficulties; but He has assisted me with 
 strength and grace-for the performance of my duties beyond 
 my natural capability. On some occasions, fortunately for 
 
20 RECOLLECTIONS ‘OF BISHOP ENGLAND. 
 
 me, I have corresponded with those graces—on others, un- 
 fortunately, I have not. I commit all my deficiences to the 
 advocacy of Jesus Christ, the Just; who is the propitiation 
 not for my sins only, but for those of the whole world. 
 
 “Some of you have borne with me the burthen of the 
 day and the heats—others have more recently joined us 
 in laboring in the vineyard of the Lord. The relations 
 which have existed between you and myself, will probably 
 soon be dissolved. On reviewing our connexion, I remem_ 
 ber many things which I deemed myself obliged to say and 
 to do, which to you may have appeared harsh or oppressive. 
 I can truly declare, that, in many of these ‘circumstances, I 
 acted (however mistakenly) from a sense of duty, and in 
 that manner which seemed best adapted to the end in 
 view—your good. Let the motive extenuate, whatever was 
 unnecessarily severe in my judgment and conduct. I confess 
 it has likewise happened, owing partly to the perplexities 
 of my position—chiefly to my own impetuosity—that my 
 demeanor, has not always been as meek and courteous as it 
 ever should have been; and that you have experienced 
 rebuffs when you might have anticipated kindness. Forgive 
 me! 
 
 “Tell my people that I love them. Tell them, how much 
 I regret that circumstances have kept us at a distance from 
 each other. My duties and my difficulties, have prevented 
 me from cultivating and strengthening those private ties 
 which ought to bind us together. Your functions require a 
 closer, a more constant intercourse with them. Be with 
 them—be of them—win them to God. Guide, govern, and 
 instruct them—watch, as having to render an account of 
 their souls, that you may do it with joy, and not with grief. 
 There are among you several infant institutions, which you 
 are called on in an especial manner to sustain. It has cost 
 me a great deal of thought and labor to introduce them— 
 they are calculated to be eminently serviceable to the cause 
 of order, of education, of charity. They constitute the 
 germs of what, I trust, shall hereafter grow and flourish in 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF BISHOP: ENGLAND. 21 
 
 extensive usefulness. As yet they are feeble ; support them— 
 embarrassed ; encourage them—they will be afflicted ; console 
 them. 
 
 “T commend my poor Church to its patrons—especially to 
 her, to whom our Saviour confided his, in the person of the 
 beloved disciple. Woman, behold thy Son—Son, behold 
 thy mother. 
 
 “T could wish to continue speaking with you, even to the 
 end; but a proper consideration of other duties yet to be 
 discharged, admonishes me to conclude. Prostrated though 
 I be, I believe that God could restore me to health and to 
 strength, did he choose to employ me longer in his service ; 
 for it is not more difficult to heal, or to preserve alive, than 
 it is to create, or to reanimate. With Him all things are 
 possible. Should He order that I again occupy my station 
 amongst you, I will (He assisting me) endeavor to set you 
 an example of a more perfect following after Christ, than 
 my past career affords. Should he decree otherwise, I must 
 prepare to be manifested before the judgment-seat of Christ, 
 that I may receive the proper things of the body, according 
 as I have done, whether it be good or evil. I rely upon the 
 all-sufficient atonement which Jesus has made for my sins, 
 for cancelling the guilt and eternal punishment thereof. 
 Still there may be some things against me, unrepented of, 
 for which satisfaction must be made in that prison, out of 
 which there is no going forth, till the last farthing shall 
 have been repaid. In this case, you can aid me by your 
 prayers and your good deeds; for, although separated by 
 death, we shall continue “united by those bonds of charity, 
 which bind together the different divisions of the Church of 
 Christ. Remember me, I beseech you, in your devotions— 
 remember me particularly, when the holy and unspotted 
 Victim shall be offered on our altars, in expiation for the 
 sins of the living, and of the dead. Iam confident that you 
 will! 
 
 “Tt is the privilege of each of you to write to the Arch- 
 bishop of Baltimore, and to the several Bishops of the Pro- 
 
Be RECOLLECTIONS@OF BISHOP ENGUAND: 
 
 vince, suggesting whom you may esteem best qualified to 
 fill my vacant chair. It is your duty, to pray that the Pon- 
 tiff may be directed by the Spirit of Divine Wisdom, in 
 appointing as my successor, one who, though he will not— 
 CANNOT surpass me in firmness of faith, and devotion to the 
 cause, yet may excel me in those Christian virtues, by 
 which that cause would be advanced. (Asking for the Pon- 
 tifical, he turned to the Confession of Faith.) Situated as 
 Iam, it surely is not requisite that I should read through 
 the profession, in the manner which ts prescribed—twice 
 entirely. My faith is too well known to you and to my 
 people, to make this necessary. Iam too debilitated for 
 the effort. / acknowledge the Holy Catholic, Apostolic Roman 
 Church, for the mother and mustress of all Churches. TI owe 
 true obedience to the Bishop of Rome, successor to St. Peter, 
 Prince of the Apostles and Vicar of Fesus Christ. I receive 
 and embrace all things delivered, defined, and declared by the 
 Sacred Canons, and General Councils, and particularly by the 
 Floly Council of Trent. I believe with a firm faith, and pro- 
 fess all and singular the articles of that Creed, which the Holy 
 Catholic, Roman Church, maketh use of, mn their platinest, 
 simplest, fullest, strongest, and most explicit sense.” 
 
 He closed the volume, and signified his desire that the 
 ceremony might proceed. The administration of the rite 
 was accordingly completed. He gave his benediction and 
 kiss of peace to each one present ; and, having been divested 
 of his episcopal insignia and sacerdotal vestments, sank ex- 
 hausted on the pillows. 
 
 From this time, the Bishop devoted himself zealously to 
 giving instructions, and otherwise providing for the govern- 
 ment of the Diocese, and for the management of his own, 
 and of the affairs of others, which were commingled with 
 his. When fatigued by attending to those matters, he 
 passed the hours in meditation, or in a heavy sleep, from 
 which he would awake, eager to renew his suggestions and 
 consultations. The three days which immediately succeed- 
 
RECOLLECTIONS: .ORSEISHOP: ENGLANIX 23 
 
 ed the reception of the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, 
 were spent in this manner. He was quite aware of the ex- 
 haustion which was very gradually taking place, and 
 appointed a time for a farewell interview with the members 
 of those religious communities 1n whose establishment and 
 permanency, he was so deeply interested. It was about this 
 period, that he consulted one of the physicians relative to 
 the most expedient time for conferring with the Head of 
 one of these Sodalities, informing him that he regarded his 
 doing so as an indispensable duty. He said: ‘I wish to 
 have some private conversations with 
 
 They may be 
 short and successive; and you can regulate the times and 
 their duration. Should I expire in the effort, I must make 
 it; for much depends upon that institution --in that institu- 
 tion everything depends upon her.” After such a represen- 
 tation, and the exhibition of so firm a resolve, no dissuasions 
 were employed; although it was believed that he was too 
 feeble to accomplish what he intended. 
 
 On Saturday, according to his own arrangements, he was 
 visited by the Sisters of Mercy in a body. He had promis- 
 ed the Superioress,that they might come to him for his 
 benediction before death; and the notices which they re- 
 ceived to attend, served to apprise them that hope, the 
 charmer, lingered no longer with the sick. He viewed them 
 ranged around, in silent grief, and seemed rapidly to read 
 their history. He remembered when /ouwr only, constituted 
 their whole force, and compared their former inefficiency 
 with their present numbers, resources, and usefulness. 
 
 Gratitude to God for the benefits which, through their 
 instrumentality had already been, and would hereafter be 
 conferred upon the community, co-operated with his debili- 
 ty, to deprive him of utterance. At last he succeeded in 
 addressing to them a single sentence: ‘ You know what I 
 would say, if I could—fulfill your obligations.” Each re- 
 ceived the sign of a special blessing, and retired. 
 
 Next, he summoned the students of the Theological Sem- 
 inary, and in a few words persuaded them to continue in 
 
24 RECOLLECTIONS OF BISHOP ENGLAND. 
 
 the course upon which they had entered; reminding them 
 that only by zeal, discretion, and knowledge, could they 
 expect to be useful to mankind; and through holiness of 
 life alone, might they hope to see God. 
 
 He likewise desired the satisfaction of once more inspirit- 
 ing the Ursulines, for whom he felt a peculiar sympathy 
 and concern. At the call of religion, they had relinquished 
 the many advantages of an establishment in which they 
 might, amidst fewer cares and distractions, have emulated 
 the services and sanctity of their Foundress, and of many of 
 their order. They had heroically persevered in the face of 
 difficulties ; and, undismayed by the death of their Mother, 
 with whom, it was feared, the prospects of their success had 
 perished, they were preparing by additional exertions, and 
 with increasing numbers, to advance the cause of education 
 and piety, to which they are devoted. Under the impend- 
 ing calamity he was anxious to rally them, as on a former 
 occasion, to the immediate discharge of their duties, and to 
 fix their minds upon the noble purposes for which they 
 should be sustained—calling them unto him as an anxious 
 parent gathers her offspring when dangers threaten. He 
 discoursed eloquently, though silently—with the eye, with 
 all the features. ‘Twas a time when mind communicates 
 with mind, independently of language. A glance conveyed 
 a lesson—a look imparted instruction—a gesture signified 
 warning or encouragement. Words were superfluous; yet 
 that ‘swift and ready tongue” likewise vindicated its func- 
 tion, uttering the following beautiful and delicate exhorta- 
 tion: 
 
 “Observe that rule, which, with the blessing of God, will 
 enable you to attain the perfection at which you aim. 
 Ruin—ruin of no ordinary description is on the one hand; 
 knowledge, literature, virtue, modesty, all the graces which 
 become the sex of the Blessed Virgin, are on the other.” 
 
 After those exciting scenes had ended, he asked that the 
 
RECOLLECTIONS ‘ORSBISHOP: ENGLAND, 25 
 
 office of V2sztatzon of the Sick should be read; and referring 
 to the Benedictio in Articulo Mortis, said, ‘‘ That 1 shall not 
 want until to-morrow.” On the next day, which was Sun- 
 day, he had relapsed into that state which I have once be- 
 fore described, when it seemed that he had forgotten much 
 which had occurred, and was unconscious of his actual con- 
 dition. At this crisis, some of the Clergy entered the cham- 
 ber for the purpose of offering the prayers just mentioned. 
 Attracted by their approach, he demanded, with much ani- 
 mation, ‘“‘ what they intended to do?” One replied, that 
 according to his directions of the preceding day, they were 
 about to read the “Benediction for the Article of Death.” He 
 again enquired, in a tone of voice which betokened surprise, 
 “Is it necessary?’ Appealing to the physician who was 
 present: “Are the symptoms worse?’ “His manner con- 
 vinced all who heard him, that for the time, he had no cor- 
 rect perception of the severity of his illness, nor of his 
 hopeless prostration ; no recollection of the series of delibe- 
 rate preparations for death in which he had participated ; 
 nor of the affecting interviews in which he had recently 
 borne a part. The words and tone of the answer which 
 was returned to his last interrogation, impressed him vividly 
 with the reality, that he was already overshadowed by the 
 coming event. [or an instant, his features worked with an 
 expression of humour, as if he were amused at his great 
 misapprehension of his situation; but in a moment his grav- 
 ity returned, and in a solemn manner he remarked: “ I 
 had hoped to Rise. But I Bow to the Will of God, and 
 accept what He appoints. Go on, sir.” 
 
 He then requested, that for some time he might not be 
 disturbed. . Desirous, as the hour of dissolution ‘‘ nearer 
 came, and yet more near, ‘to direct his. thoughts and feel- 
 ings solely to recollection, and to the contemplation of the 
 ensuing change. He spent sometime in those exercises; 
 and when refreshed in body and mind, he confided to a 
 faithful listener, in the hearing of one who was already ac- 
 quainted with many of the circumstances, the particulars of 
 
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