YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

a f&tvxtiix

OF THE
REV. JOHN KEBLE, M.A.
LATE VICAR OF HURSLEY.
BY THE RIGHT HON.
SIR J- T. COLERIDGE, D.C.L.

' Te mihi junxerunt nivei sine crimine mores,
Simplicitasque sagax, ingenuusque pudor ;
Et bene nota fides, et candor frontis honestae,
Et studia a studiis non aliena meis."
Joannes Secundus.

OTjirB TEtiltfort,
With Coireotions and Additions.

OXFORD and LONDON :
JAMES PARKER AND CO.
1870.

All Rights reserved.

Dedication to the First Edition.]

TO
SIR WILLIAM HEATHCOTE, BART.

My dear Heathcote,
TN placing your name at the head of this Memoir, I fulfil
a plain and pleasant duty. I dedicate it to a favourite
pupil of John Keble; who became his fast friend; and
was his only patron.
I wish I could feel secure that the Memoir does no in
justice to his memory. Such as it is T present it to you, as
flowing at least from a grateful heart. To him I owe more
than I can well express; and among the greater of those
many obligations I count it not the least, that for so many
years I have been able to call myself your affectionate and
faithful fri-end,
J. T. COLERIDGE.

HEATH'S COURT,
Dec. 26, 1868

PREFACE
TO THE THIRD EDITION.

OINCE the publication of my Second Edition,
^J I have been favoured with several suggestions,
contributions, and proposed amendments, — in many
cases coming from those who were personally un
known to me ; in all proceeding from that reverent
love to John Keble, and respect for his memory,
which lead so many to regard even this imperfect
biography as, in some sort, a national property,
which all are interested in making as perfect as
they can.
Feeling this very strongly, I am yet not the less
obliged personally ; and if I have unintentionally
omitted to make my acknowledgments separately
to each one to whom I am thus indebted, I hope
this will not be attributed to anything but old age
and impaired memory.
Some of these communications will be found in
their proper places in this edition, — others have
been passed over, not because they were under
valued, but because to introduce them properly
would have required greater alteration in the text
than I feel myself now at liberty, or indeed able,
to make.
J. T. C.
Heath's Court,
Oct., 1869.

PREFACE
TO THE SECOND EDITION.

QOON after the death of John Keble, a letter
^ was written to his nearest and dearest surviving
relative, by one who knew him as well as he loved
him. I venture to print the following extract : —
" I suppose that no man has died in England within our
memory who has been so dearly loved, and whose memory
will be had in such tender reverence by so many good men.
It will be long before many will cease to say to themselves
when in doubt, 'What would Keble say to this?' or to re
mind themselves of his ways and sayings ; and of Hursley
as it was in his time ; and of all that made his judgment
a law, and his companionship delightful. However, I
think it is not the companionship that comes most into
the mind just now. What I think remarkable, was not
how many people loved him, or how much they loved him,
but that everybody seemed to love him with the very best
kind of love of which they were capable.
" It was like loving goodness itself; you felt that what
was good in him was applying itself directly and bringing
into life all that was best in you. His ready, lively, trans
parent affection seemed as if it was the very spirit of love,
opening out upon you, and calling for a return, such as
you could give. At the same time its unsuspectingness
was almost alarming. You were probably too near to him
to know that singular mixture of triumph and shame which,
I think, he caused to many of his friends, by the unreserved

viii PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

affection which he poured out upon them, on the faith of
their possessing all the singleness and purity of heart which
he felt in himself. But it was, I think, very common ; and
I believe that numbers of persons were continually urged
forwards by a kind of shame at feeling themselves so
much behind what he appeared to think of them.
"His influence for some time has been so silent, that
one hardly knows what his loss may be to the Church,
But it is impossible not to fear that many people will be
liable to do wild or angry things, when they are relieved
from that silent control which was exercised by the general
reverence which all men felt for him. However, that is
in Higher Hands."
There is not a syllable of exaggeration in this
beautiful extract ; and it is owing to the general
feeling, so well described in it, that I find myself
called on to prepare a second edition of this book
very long before I had any expectation of such a
call being made on me ; and a sense of this has
naturally made me more anxious to correct some
inaccuracies which had crept into the former edition.
This I have endeavoured to do.
But beside inaccuracies as to facts, friends have
suggested in private, and critics through the press
have pointed out, what seem to them omissions, or
faults in the conception of the work as well as in
the execution. In some respects it will be found,
I hope, that attention has been paid to such re
marks ; and where it has not been, this must not
be attributed to want pf respect, or consideration.
This indeed would have been unpardonable in me ;

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. ix
for so far as I know, I have been treated even by
the most decided of my critics with a respect and
kindness which I wish I deserved, and for which
I feel sincerely grateful. Sometimes, however, I
have not agreed with my advisers, sometimes I have
found myself unable to do what they desired. There
are faults I suppose in every work, which are so
interwoven with the main web that they cannot be
removed without unravelling the whole piece. I am
too old to recast the work ; and I desire it should
be borne in mind, that from the beginning I ex
pressly limited myself to a certain part, and did not
undertake the whole of Keble's history.
I must now mention some new matter, which will
be found in this edition. Since the issue of the
former, two parcels of letters have been found, the
one to Hurrell Froude, the other to his father,
the Archdeacon ; they were found singularly enough
with a sm,all quantity of plate, and some personal
jewels of little value, in a house formerly the pro
perty of the latter, and for many years occupied by
his sister, which is now the property of Mr. William
Froude. He was good enough to place them un
reservedly in my hands ; and I have published a
few, which will be found in their proper places. All
are written in the same spirit, and with the same
ability, which are characteristic of the letters I had
before printed ; and should it be thought right to
publish an independent selection of his letters, many
of them I hope will be found in it

x PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
A more important addition will be found in the
Appendix, which I have annexed to this volume.
This mainly consists of papers from which I made
extracts in my concluding chapter. I have thought
it better now on many accounts to print them at
length ; by so doing I am aware some repetition will
appear, and it will be seen, I fear, not only that I
was too sparing, but also that I was injudicious in
my selection. By printing them as I now do, I shall
give a more adequate view of the inward and do
mestic life of Keble, the want of which has justly
been complained of; and I can more conveniently
place the purchasers of the first edition on a footing
with those who may possess themselves of the second
as copies of this appendix will be printed separately
for their convenience.
J. T. C.
Heath's Court,
April 24, 1869.

PREFACE
TO THE FIRST EDITION.

CO much time has elapsed since it was understood
^ that I had commenced the work which I now
publish, and in itself it might seem to have required
so little, that a few words of explanation may be
proper; and but a few will be all that I can offer.
When I undertook my task, some of my best friends
doubted whether I had still strength of body or mind
sufficient for it. Beginning it with perhaps too much
eagerness and anxiety, it was not long before I was
stopped by an illness, some effects of which have
never wholly left me — one of them has been the
inability, sometimes, to work at all — and always to
do so for more than a short period of time from
day to day.
This will be accepted, I hope, as an excuse for
delay ; what effects the same circumstance may have
had on the book itself, it is useless for me to con
sider; no explanation will cure its faults, or supply
its short-comings : though I hope it may help to
acquit me of inconsiderateness in undertaking, and
of carelessness in executing it

xii PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

I expressed very early, and I believe more than
once, what I now desire very earnestly to repeat, my
fear that in printing many of John Keble's letters to
myself I might lie open to the imputation of bring
ing my own name too forward. I find now that in
the beginning I had hardly realised the extent to
which this would go ; and yet, as I advanced, I knew
not how to avoid it. I could not think it right to
alter his expressions, perfectly sincere as I knew
them to be, though certainly exaggerated. The truth
is, he was so humble, and at the same time so loving
to his friends, that it seemed as if in his mind all the
weakness and imperfection were in himself, all the
strength and goodness in them. His letters must be
read with.this thought in the mind of the reader.
It may be said that I might not only to some
extent have escaped this difficulty, but added much
to the interest of my Memoir, if I had made more
use of his letters to other friends and less of those
to myself. There is much truth in this remark, and
I have done what I could to comply with it. But it
is not every possessor of his letters to whom I could
properly apply. Many of them were written to per
sons on their own troubles and difficulties, and such*
though very interesting, the holders would be little
likely to give me for publication, and certainly I could
not ask them.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. xiii
To some extent I trust this may be taken for an
answer, without more specification ; but I must say
a particular word as to one, perhaps his dearest and
most honoured friend, who will be in every one's
mind — Dr. Pusey. I suppose he possesses large
numbers of important and interesting letters. He
has always been so kind to me, that I should be
ungrateful if I doubted his readiness to help me —
indeed to volunteer his help, wherever he felt he
could do so properly. Yet it is obvious that from
the very intimacy which subsisted between them,
combined with the extreme delicacy of the subjects
to which their correspondence must have principally
related, his letters might be just such as he would
think it improper as yet to make public. I have
therefore never applied to him ; and for reasons not
exactly the same, but of the same kind, I have pur
sued the same course with Dr. Newman.
The work no doubt suffers in consequence.
Keble's Letters to Hurrell Froude would have
been specially interesting ; writing to this pupil
first and friend after, whom yet he always loved
as a younger brother, he would have been presented
in a new light. Mr. W. Froude, Hurrell's repre
sentative, was ready to communicate the letters if
they could be found, but the search for them has
been unsuccessful.

xiv PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

The help which I have received has come from so
many persons, that I am compelled to ask the far
larger number to accept a general, but most hearty
expression of my gratitude. What has been done
for me by some has been acknowledged, or will
appear, in the work itself ; such for example as
Mr. Wilson. Beside much specific information, he
placed in my hands a great many letters of which
I have made free use,
But it would be wrong if I did not specify by
name three ladies, who may yet Ifear think it an ill-
return for their kindness — Miss Baker, Miss Maria
Trench, and Mrs. Cooke Trench — to whom I must
add the Author of the " Daily Readings." I was
very desirous of giving an authentic account of
Keble in his office of Pastor of Hursley ; and if I
have succeeded in doing so, it is to be attributed en
tirely to the communications they were good enough
to make to me. I cannot thank them too warmly.
In such a work as Keble's Life it was impossible,
at least I have found it so, not to touch on many
matters once the subject of hot controversy. When
I began, I hoped I had laid down for myself a rule
by which I might escape the responsibilities of a
Church Historian. Perhaps I ought to have fore
seen how impossible it would become in the progress
of the work strictly to observe that rule. I am

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. xv

sensible that sometimes I have not ; and in conse
quence I may possibly have given pain or offence
to excellent persons who now survive. I beg such
to believe that I regret this very much. I do not
know that I have anywhere questioned the motives
of those from whose judgments I have been com
pelled to differ; and if I impute error to others,
I am not so unwise as to suppose that I may not
have fallen into it myself.
J. T. C.
Heath's Court,
Dec. 24, 1868.

I OUGHT not to part from this work without one
word upon another and far greater, now in progress
at Oxford, designed in part for the same purpose ;
I speak of Keble College. It is indeed a great con
ception and an almost unprecedented memorial ; but
it is more than a mere memorial, (if it were not,
Keble would have shrunk from it,) it is an institution
dedicated to the academical education of numbers,
who without it may be unable to obtain that in
estimable advantage. What is now being attempted
at Oxford in another way testifies to the need, and
I wish it every success ; but I still venture to think

xvi PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
that the Collegiate system is essential to the com
pleteness of an Oxford training.
Our undertaking, however, requires very much
larger help than it has hitherto received, and I
cannot but earnestly press this consideration on
all who feel grateful to Keble, and would be glad
to honour his memory ; and also on all who desire
to extend Oxford education not in a sectarian or
illiberal, but truly Christian spirit, to a large class
much desiring, much needing, and, without this help,
quite unable to compass it.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
PAGH
Introduction. — Birth. — Boyhood  I

CHAPTER II.
Undergraduateship. — Corpus Christi, 1806— 181 1 ... 9
CHAPTER III.
John Miller. — George James Cornish. — Charles Dyson . . 22
CHAPTER IV.
Final Examination. — Election at Oriel. — University Prizes. —
Sidmouth. — Ordinations. — First Curacy  47
CHAPTER V.
Tutorship and Second Residence at Oriel. — Death of Mrs. Keble.
— 1818— 1823  70
CHAPTER VI.
Return to Fairford, 1823. — Southrop. — Pupils. — Hurrell Froude. —
" Christian Year"  ... 108
CHAPTER VII.
Hursley Curacy. — Death of Mary Ann Keble. — Return to Fair-
ford. — 1825, 1826  130

xvm CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VIII. FAGS
Return to Fairford.— Publication of "Christian Year."— 1826,
1827 ....-'  146

CHAPTER IX.
Provostship of Oriel. — Edition of Hooker's Works. — India-House
Examinations .......... 175

CHAPTER X.
Paignton. — Poetry Professorship, and Lectures. — Assize Sermon,
1833.— The Tracts.— Death of Mr. Keble.— 1835 . . .205
CHAPTER XI.
Coin St. Aldwyn. — Engagement with Miss Clarke. — Acceptance
of Hursley Vicarage. — Marriage, and Settlement at Hursley. —
Visitation Sermon. — Hurrell Froude's " Remains. " — A. Knox. —
Version of Psalms. — Creweian Oration and Wordsworth. — 1839 233
CHAPTER XII.
1840. — Library of the Fathers. — Charles Marriott. — Dr. Arnold. —
Tract 90, and Subsequent Proceedings  262
CHAPTER XIII.
Otterbourne Church and Parsonage. — Ampfield Church and Par
sonage. — Hursley Parsonage. — "Lyra Innocentium." — Keble's
Resolution as to the English Church. — " Mother out of Sight." 281
CHAPTER XIV.
"Lyra Innocentium."— Charles Marriott's College.— Gladstone
Contests  _ ,21

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XV.
PAGE
Should Keble have been preferred to Dignity in the Church ? —
Tour in Wales, and Visit to Ireland, 1840. — Tour in Scotland,
1842. — Undertakes to Write Life of Bishop Wilson. — Visit to
Isle of Man, 1849. — Marriages with Sister of Deceased Wife,
1849. — Second Visit to Man, 1852. — Trip to Skye, 1853 . . 354
CHAPTER XVI.
Death of W. C. Yonge, 1854. — Oxford University Reform . . 381
CHAPTER XVII.
1854, Bishop of New Zealand at Hursley. — Francis George Cole
ridge's Death. — Visit to the West. — The Vineyard and Dart-
ington Rectory. — Archdeacon Wilberforce. — Service for Emi
grants. — North of Devon. — Professor Reed. — Decision of the
Denison Case. — Tour in North Wales. — Argument on the Di
vorce Bill. — Departure of Mr. Young and Family. — 1857, Tour
in Switzerland. — Eucharistical Adoration .... 406
CHAPTER XVIII.
1857, Death of the Rev. J. D. Coleridge. — Building of School
Chapel at Pitt, 1858.— Death of Mrs. T. Keble, Junior, 1858.—
Troubles in the Scottish Episcopal Church. — Stay at Oxford,
I859. — Tour to the North. — Visits to Edinburgh, i860. —
Death of Elizabeth Keble, August, i860. — Death of C. Dyson.
— Visit to Devonshire. — Death of J. Patteson, 1861 . . . 443
CHAPTER XIX
Keble's Self-dissatisfaction, and Thoughts of Resignation.— Oxford
Local Exarninations. — Mrs. Keble's Alarming Illness, — Move
to Sea View.— First Visit to Penzance. — Bishop Wilson's Life
Completed.— Church Discipline.— Court of Final Appeal in

xx CONTENTS.

PAGE
Cases of Doctrine. —Bishop of Winchester's Charge.— Com
mentary on the Bible.— First Stay at Penzance. — Return to
Hursley. — Judgment in Long v. Bishop of Capetown. — First
Visit to Torquay in January, 1864. — Second Stay at Penzance,
April, 1864  469

CHAPTER XX.
Subscription and Oaths ofthe Clergy. — Return from Penzance. —
Practice as to Confirmations. — Paralytic Seizure, November,
1864. — Second Visit to Torquay. — Removal to Penzance. — The
Colenso Appeal. — Pastoral Letter to the Confirmed at Hursley.
— Visit at Heath's Court, May 10.— Return to Hursley. — Aboli
tion of Tests at Oxford. —Mrs. Keble's Severe Illness. — Visit of
Dr. Pusey and Dr. Newman  504
CHAPTER XXI.
October 11, 1865, Leave Hursley, and go to Bournemouth. —
Letter on the Ritual Question. — His Life at Bournemouth. —
Illness. — Death, March 29, 1866. — Burial at Hursley. — Re
marks on Person and Character. — Mrs. Keble's Death, Burial,
Character  ... 536

MEMOIR OF THE
REV. JOHN KEBLE.

CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION. — BIRTH. — BOYHOOD.
TT is not without sincere misgivings that I com-
¦*• mence this memoir. My sense of the difficulty
of writing it properly, as well as of the importance
that it should be written, if at all, fully, delicately,
faithfully, lovingly, has become more strong the
more I have had occasion to consider it with re
ference to myself. I will not affect to deny, that if
the duty had been cast on me some years earlier,
there were personal circumstances which, at least
in part, might have seemed to recommend me for
the performance of it — the most affectionate inti
macy, and the closest communion of feelings and
opinions, the possession of an unbroken correspond
ence from the year 1811, and the kind confidence
with which the representatives of deceased friends
were ready to confide to me a large number of his
letters ; these were among those circumstances. But
B

Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

I feel now that my great age, and impaired strength'.
of mind, as well as body, are more than equivalent
disadvantages; indeed, a serious illness since I be
gan to prepare for my work has added much weight
to this consideration. Nor can I forget that the
very advantages I speak of have a tendency to mis
lead me in the composition, and to; disturb the pro
portions of my work, to make me dwell too much
at length on parts exceedingly interesting to my
self, but which may seem of less importance to
those, a great proportion probably of my readers, ,
who may be specially desirous to know of the part
which John Keble took in the different measures
and movements of our times in Church matters,
and who will find themselves disappointed. For.
when I consented to the request made to me, I felt
that I was not in any way competent to write the
history of our Church for the last forty years, which
yet seemed a necessary part of any complete ac
count of his work on earth. In these very important
matters my narrative will be deficient, and many of
my readers will be disappointed.
Under all these circumstances, I cannot complain
if I am asked why I have undertaken to write at
all. In answer, I will not dwell on reasons of minor
and in themselves, perhaps insufficient importance.
The truth is, that I was requested by one to whom
at the time it was almost impossible for me to re
fuse any such thing ; and the performance of my

Introduction.

promise, in so far as I am able, appears to me now
in the light of a sacred duty.
My readers, however, will gather from what I have
said, that my work will not assume to be a com
plete biography; indeed, independently of the rea
sons which apply to myself personally, it seems to
me that the time has hardly yet arrived when this
could be done, at once so freely ahd so dispas
sionately as it ought to be, if done at all. Some
one will be found, I have a good hope, in due time
to accomplish this more important task ; to whom
what I am about to do may be of some service.
The George Herbert of our days ought not in the
end to be left without his own Isaac Walton.
I must still farther, however, and perhaps in jus
tice to myself, warn my readers that they are about
to enter on a most uneventful story; few persons
have lived so long, and achieved so great a name,
about whom there is so little of change or incident
to record. His life was passed in his father's house,
in his college rooms, in his curacies, or in his vicarage,
in occasional Long-Vacation rambles, in visits to the
sea-side for the alleviation of sickness. He ear
nestly avoided publicity ; happily for himself per
haps, neither the Crown nor the Church thought him
a fit subject for promotion, which I need not say he
never solicited, and I believe would have declined.
Those who desire to read an exciting story will do
well to close this book at once ; but there are still.

Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

some, I believe, who either out of personal regard
or grateful veneration may desire to know inti
mately his character, the mariner of his passage
through life, and the performance of his duties ;
how he lived, and how he died. As well as I can,
I will try truly and simply to gratify the wishes of
such readers. My object will be to present a full
and faithful picture of his character ; faithful, I hope,
though drawn unquestionably in a reverent spirit,
and with a loving hand.

I will not detain my readers by any further pre
face, nor will I consume time by any account of
John Keble's family pedigree; it was a matter in
which he took little interest. He never, that I re
member, mentioned to me the name of any one of
his ancestors, except that of Joseph Keble, of whose
strange taste (as it seemed to him) he spoke slight
ingly, in employing himself as a Law-reporter; he
did not know at the time the importance of the
office, nor how much ability, industry, and learning,
a successful discharge of it implied. Joseph Keble
was a Reporter of the decisions of what is now styled
the Court of Queen's Bench from 1660 to 1678 ; he
did not, however, possess the qualifications of a good
one, and his volumes are of little authority. I never
heard Keble speak of Joseph's father, Richard, a law
yer of greater eminence. Mr. Foss, in his careful and

Birth. c
useful book, "The History ofthe Judges," records
of him, that the Parliament made him a Welch
Judge in 1647, a Serjeant in 1648, and one of the
Commissioners of the Great Seal after the King's
execution, together with Whitelocke and LTsle. I
do not know the precise reasons, but it is perhaps
presumably not to his dishonour, that he found
favour neither with Cromwell nor Charles II. The
former displaced him in 1654, and the latter, upon
his Restoration, excepted him from the Act of In
demnity ; perhaps he was one of the Regicide
Judges. Probably Keble knew nothing of these
circumstances, and if he had known them, his
passionate loyalty for the memory of Charles I.
would have prevented his dwelling on them with
much pleasure or interest.
John Keble was born on St. Mark's Day, 1792,
at Fairford in Gloucestershire. I saw it stated by
a correspondent of the "Guardian," that he had
represented himself on one occasion to have been
born in Hampshire, and I dare say he may have
expressed himself so as to be misunderstood in
that sense. Among the many letters, with the use
of which I have been favoured, I have found one
to George Cornish in which, dating from Hursley,
he speaks of a visit he had just paid with his ma
ternal uncle to Ringwood, "to see his mother's
native place." The passage is characteristic, and
I will extract it; the silence in it as to his own

Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

; place of birth would be almost conclusive if there
were any real doubt about it : —
" As I hinted before, these are terrible times, and I have
just been laying out oceans of money on a new brown
jacket for my boy James, not to mention a journey which
I took last Monday and Tuesday thro' Lyndhurst and
Lymington to Ringwood, in order to see my Mother's
native place; to be sure it was at my Uncle's expense,
but no matter for that. I am very glad I went ; altho' I
could not have believed all memorials could have vanished
in so short a time. Of the Parsonage where she lived,
not one stone stands upon another, and there is but one
person in the place who recollects her; however, Uncle
•shewed me where she used to sit in Church, and that was
well worth going for. Ringwood is a much nicer place
than I had expected; the meadows looked so beautifully
green now all other grass is brown, and the alders, cattle,
boats, and islets, were strewn about in various distances
under a hot sun and thunder-cloud, making altogether
a very pretty Flemish landscape. And Lyndhurst is the
nicest place, in the middle of the Forest. I think Archery
meetings there would be very nice things, but not half so
nice as a meeting of you and me— which, . that it may ,
happen soon, and last long, is the sincere wish of your
ever affectionate J. K., Junr."
The interest he thus took in Ringwood, and his
own settlement in Hursley, might well make him
call himself a Hampshire man, a phrase easily mis
understood, but there is no doubt that he was a
Gloucestershire man by birth. He was the second

Boyhood. j
child and eldest son of the Rev. John Keble and
Sarah Maule, the daughter of the Incumbent of
Ringwood ; three sisters and one brother, now the
only survivor, completed the family circle. A few
words must be said of his father. He was, I should
suppose, a good scholar, and a man of considerable
ability, besides that he was a clergyman of exem
plary piety. He alone educated the two brothers
up to their going to Oxford, and he had fitted both
to be not merely successful competitors for Scholar
ships at Corpus. Christi College at unusually early
ages, but to enter on the studies of the University
with credit and advantage. John Keble always spoke
and wrote of him with singular love and veneration.
I think I scarcely ever received a letter dated from
Fairford during his lifetime, in which his health or
employments were not mentioned, or some remark
•of his quoted ; and in several rather important in
cidents in the son's life a word, even a look, from the
father sufficed to determine his decision. It seemed
indeed at all times to be John Keble's main object
to consult his pleasure, and in the decline of his life
to give him help and comfort. He was the Vicar of
Coin St. Aldwin's, about three miles from Fairford ;
he resided at Fairford in a house which was his own
property. He lived to his ninetieth year, taking occa
sionally a part of the Sunday duty to within a very
Jew months of his death.
I have not been able to recover any noticeable

8 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
anecdotes of John Keble's boyhood. I certainly
heard when we were Undergraduates together, that
his father had never compelled him to study, and
that he was taught only when he liked to learn.
I have not been able on enquiry now to verify this
story, yet it was so much the common understand
ing with us in College, that I do not doubt it was
substantially true ; and however unwise as a general
rule, it may not have answered ill with such a boy.
Certain it is that his proficiency both in Latin and
Greek, and in Latin composition, at fifteen, would
have done credit to distinguished boys of the same
age at the best public school. One little eircum^
stance I think worth recording before I pass from
his boyhood, because it seems to furnish proof that
even at that period he displayed to an attentive ob
server the same character for which he was so re
markable through life. One of his Godfathers was
Mr. Stafford Smith, the Rector of Fladbury. Be
tween the two families there seems to have been
a good deal of intimacy, and he saw a good deal
of his godson; he always designated him by the
title of John the Good.

CHAPTER II.
UNDERGRADUATESHIP. — CORPUS CHRISTI,
1806— 1 8l I.
"jV/TR. KEBLE had himself been a Scholar and
-L»± Fellow of Corpus Christi, and it was natural
that he should desire to place his sons at the same
college ; I dare say, too, that the value of the scholar
ship, it's certainly leading to a fellowship, and the
good preferment which the College offered, were
not without their weight in determining his choice.
Moreover, he seems to have maintained personal
relations with the governing members of the house.
Accordingly, he had trained John for the compe
tition, and a vacancy occurring, he went with him
to Oxford in December, 1806. I do not know what
opponents John Keble had to encounter, except that
he had one distinguished Etonian a, but he was suc
cessful ; and on the twelfth of that month was elected
• When I wrote this, I could not recollect with certainty the name
of the schoolfellow to whom I allude, but through the kindness of one
of his surviving sisters I now know that it was James Commeline, and
I am glad to insert it. He was a lad of whom Dr. Goodall had a very
high opinion, and we all entertained great expectations. Not succeed
ing at Corpus, he went to Cambridge, and was in due time elected
a Fellow of St. John's. He was of an unambitious spirit, and retiring
habits ; but, as I learn, he fully justified the anticipations of the Head
Master, becoming a singularly accurate and tasteful scholar. It may
be interesting to some to know, that among his intimate friends and
correspondents was Elizabeth Barrett, whom he considered the best
Greek scholar he knew.

10 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Scholar, wanting then more than four months of com
pleting his fifteenth year.
It is a coincidence perhaps worth notice, that Ed
ward Copleston, afterwards Provost of Oriel, and
Bishop of Llandaff, was elected at about the same
age a Scholar of the same College, having been edu
cated also by his father, a country clergyman, and
never sent to any school; like Keble also in this,
that he entered Oxford at this early age, a youth
well advanced in scholarship, and in the practice of
easy and accurate composition ; like him, too, in due
time he was a distinguished Prize Man, and one ofthe
few who stand out among the Poetry Professors ofthe
University in remarkable and enduring distinction.
In a chapter which I was allowed to contribute
to the deservedly popular " Life of Dr. Arnold" by
the Dean of Westminster, I observed that Arnold's
character was affected not so much by the autho
rities of the College, as by its constitution and sys
tem, and by the residents whom it was his fortune
to associate with there ; and that I should hardly
do justice to my subject, unless I stated a few par
ticulars, and what I was at liberty to mention as to
the latter. This applies with equal truth to Keble,
and I venture, therefore, to transfer to this placed
what I then wrote, and the rather because the
Corpus of their day is now a thing of the past, not
remembered by many, and not unworthy of com,
memoration : —

Undergraduateship. 1 1
" Corpus is a very small establishment : twenty Fellows
and twenty Scholars, with four Exhibitioners, form the foun
dation. No independent members were admitted except
Gentlemen Commoners, and they were limited to six. Of
the Scholars several were Bachelors, and the whole number
of Students actually under College tuition seldom exceeded
twenty. But the Scholarships, though not entirely open,
were yet enough so to admit of much competition : their
value, and still more the commendable strictness and im
partiality with which the examinations were conducted,
(qualities at that time more rare in college elections than
now,) insured a number of good candidates for each va
cancy, and we boasted a more than proportionate share of
successful competitors for University honours. It had been
generally understood (I know not whether the statutes pre
scribe the practice) that in the examinations a large allow
ance was made for youth; certain it was that we had
many very young candidates, and that of these many, re
markable for early proficiency, succeeded. We were then
a small society, the members rather under the usual age,
and with more than the ordinary proportion of ability and
scholarship; our mode of tuition was in harmony with
these circumstances : not by private lectures, but in classes
of such a size as excited emulation, and made us careful
in the exact and neat rendering of the original ; yet not so
numerous as to prevent individual attention on the Tutor's
part, and familiar knowledge of each pupil's turn and
talents. In addition to the books read in lecture, the Tutor
at the beginning of the Term settled with each Student
upon some book to be read by himself in private, and pre
pared for the public examination at the end of Term in
Hall; and with this book something on paper, either an
analysis of it, or remarks upon it, was expected to be

12 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
produced, which ensured that the book should really have
been read. It has often struck me since that the whole
plan, which is now, I believe, in common use in the Uni
versity, was well devised for the tuition pf young men of
our age. We were not entirely set free from the leading-
strings of the School: accuracy was cared for: we were
accustomed to viva voce rendering, and viva voce questions
and answers in our lecture-room, before an audience of
fellow-students, whom we sufficiently respected; at the
same time, tlie additional readmg trusted to ourselves alone,
prepared ,us for accurate private study, and for our final
exhibition in the Schools.
" One result of all these circumstances was, that we lived
on the most familiar terms with each other : we might be,
indeed we were, somewhat boyish in manner, and in the
liberties which we took with each other; but our interest
in literature, ancient and modern, and in all the stirring
matters of that stirring time was not boyish — we debated
the classic and romantic question, we discussed poetry and
history, logic and philosophy ; or we fought over the Penin
sular battles, and the continental campaigns with the energy
of persons interested in them. Our habits were inexpen
sive and temperate; one break-up party was held in the
Junior Common-room at the end of each Term, in which we
indulged our genius more freely ; and our merriment, to say
the truth, was somewhat exuberant and noisy ; but the au
thorities wisely forebore too strict an enquiry into this.
" It was one of the happy peculiarities of Corpus that
the Bachelor Scholars were compelled to residence. This
regulation,- seemingly inconvenient, but most wholesome
as I cannot but think for themselves, and now -unwisely
relaxed, operated very beneficially on the Undergraduates ;
with the best and the most advanced of these, they asso-

Corpus Christi, 1806. 13

ciated very usefully. I speak here with grateful and affec
tionate remembrance of the privileges which I enjoyed in
this way."
In this way, I may now add, that Keble formed
one of the closest and most valuable friendships of
his life.
Such was the body into which John Keble was
introduced in December, 1806, a mere lad, remark
ably home-bred and home-keeping, who had seen
as little of " men and cities," I suppose, as a lad of
his age could well have seen ; yet ready at once to
take a forward place in the studies, and become
a well-accepted member in the society of the col
lege. He was in truth still but a boy, with less of
confidence, and knowledge of the world, than would
be found commonly in boys of the upper part of
the fifth form in any of our Public Schools. Many
of his letters to his sisters and brother, written soon
after the commencement of his academic life, were
preserved, and have been entrusted to me ; they are
the simple outpourings of an affectionate, home-loving,
and clever boy, with a great deal moreover of that
joyous fun and humour, which he never lost entirely
even in the most anxious years of his life. I will
make but one extract from the very first ; it is curi
ous that he should have commenced by a trouble
in being too late for chapel on his first Sunday
morning. His father, it seems, was an old friend of
Dr. Eveleigh, then the Provost of Oriel ; he had gone

14 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
up, as I have said, with his son to the election, and
the two were entertained at the Oriel Lodge. Writing
to his eldest sister, Elizabeth, he says : —
" I have scarcely begun studying yet this Term — however,
there is a lecture appointed for Friday in Mr. Darnell's
room — it will be however in a play of Euripides, which I
have before read. I tell you this for the edification of
Jones and Thomas — I hope they are both good children^
and behave well whilst I am gone.
"I had almost got into a scrape on Sunday morning,
when we were all to be in Chapel. I slept at the Provost's
that night, and got up in the morning with the intention of
going to chapel — I had even gone to my room to wait for
the time of going— yet after all I was too late. This was
owing to my having mistaken the bell at Oriel, which
goes rather later than Corpus, for the latter. I was quite
frightened at first, when I found I was not in time : how
ever, by my father's mediation, I was excused by the Pre
sident for my absence."
Oxford, C. C. C, Jan. 20, 1807.
In November, 1807, I find him writing in Latin
to his brother, who was then preparing to follow
his steps, and contend for a coming vacancy;
he writes with apparent ease, and, so far as I
can judge, correctly and elegantly ; and he had
then nearly finished ^Eschylus in the Lecture-
room. He was very fortunate in his Tutor, Mr.
Darnell, the late Rector of Stanhope— a man of
excellent taste and accurate scholarship, one of
those ornaments of Oxford, whom Bishop Barring-

Corpus Christi, 1807. i 5.
ton in the wise exercise of his great patronage,
and profiting by the knowledge of the University,
which he had the means of acquiring from his resi
dence at Mongewell, delighted to transplant into
places of honour and profit in his own diocese of
Durham. Darnell evidently understood and appre
ciated Keble, and cultivated his taste with care ; he
lived to be proud of his pupil, and on some occa
sions in after-life, when it was sought to do him
honour, testified to the high opinion which he en
tertained of him.
In the spring of 1808, John Keble was probably
preparing to compete for the English Verse prize;.
the subject was "Mahomet," and he was not suc
cessful, the prize being awarded to Mr. Rolleston,
who had also been successful in the preceding year.
The rule had not then been made, which this cir
cumstance caused to be laid down, that no once
successful candidate should compete for the same
prize a second time ; Keble understood that had it
then existed, the prize would have been awarded ta
him. Of this poem I find an extract in my " Silva,"
but I will not insert it here, for it would give a wrong
impression of his general compositions of the same
date ; it was evidently written after the style of Eng
lish prize poems of that day, brilliant and flowing,
but with no great originality of thought.
He wrote for other prizes during his undergra-
duateship, but was never successful ; it is evident

1 6 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
from his letters to his father, who was in his entire
confidence in these, as in all other matters, and to
whom he seems to have submitted all he wrote for
his criticism, that he was too much distracted by the
labour necessary for preparing to try for the First
Class both in Classics and Mathematics ; but in no
thing was the difference of age so likely to stand in
his way as in these competitions. I had the good
fortune once to be successful against him, but I was
two years his senior, and had had the advantage
of six years' training at Eton.
I was myself elected a Scholar in April, 1809.
I found Keble in his third year highly distinguished
in the senior classes of the college, both in Classics
and Mathematics. Darnell was no longer Tutor,
nor in residence, he had been succeeded by George
Leigh Cooke. It is no disparagement of this excel
lent man to say that he was not equal to his emi
nent predecessor in scholarship or taste ; but he was
inferior to no man in industry, or zeal, good common
sense, patience, and excellent temper, to all which
he joined a genuine sense of humour, and delightful
simplicity of manner. As my whole undergraduate-
ship was passed under his tuition, and as I owed
much of whatever success I had to his care, I
should be ungrateful if I missed this opportunity of
expressing the gratitude which I feel towards him.
He has long passed out of this life, and, owing to
my election to a Fellowship at another college, and

Corpus Christi, 1810-11. jy
my early departure from residence, our intercourse
was only occasional; but my friendly relations with
my old Tutor only ceased with his life. For what
remained of Keble's preparation for the Schools,
he and I were in the same class, and he found' in
Cooke a most useful Tutor, sparing no pains in
completing the work which Darnell had more than
laid the foundation of.
I was soon upon terms of familiarity with Keble,
which rapidly ripened into friendship. We became
correspondents in 1811. We lived on the same
staircase, he in a garret over my rooms. I see
now his seat by the fireside, and a cupboard con
veniently near ; into which it was said that in the
early times, when he had hardly courage to resolve on
trying for the First Class in both Schools, he would
convey his Principia rather rudely and hastily, if
an intruder broke in upon his study of them ; which
he pursued at that time, to use a slang term, " on the
sly." Although I was so much inferior to him in
many respects, and so much his junior in stand
ing, yet I was his senior in age, and I came from
intimate and improving intercourse at Eton with
some of the ablest and most studious boys in the
school, and I was able at least to appreciate his
mind and acquirements. We saw a great deal of
each other. This was a period when the Lake
Poets, as they were called, and especially Words
worth and my Uncle, had scarcely any place in
C

Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

the literature of the country, except as a mark for
the satire of some feal wits, and some mis-named
critics of considerable repute. I possessed, the gift of
my Uncle, the " Lyrical Ballads," and " Wordsworth's
Poems," (these last in the first edition). It is among
the pleasant recollections of my life, that I first
made the great poet known to Keble. As might
have been expected, he read him with avidity; the
admiration for his poetry, which he conceived in
youth, never waned in after life ; indeed, when he
came to know the man it was augmented, I may ra
ther say completed, by the respect and regard which
his character inspired. It was hardly possible for
Keble to be a very enthusiastic admirer of any
poetry, unless he had at least conceived a good:
opinion of the writer. I may say, in passing, that
Wordsworth's admiration of the author of " The Chris
tian Year," and the volume itself, was in after life very
warm ; there were few of the many tributes which
he received, which he set a greater value on, than
the mention made of him by Keble in the Theatre
at Oxford, when he received his honorary degree;.
and the dedication to him of the Preelections.
In 1810 and 181 1 respectively, George J. Cornish
and Thomas Arnold were elected Scholars, the former
from Westminster, the latter from Winchester. I
think neither of them could have been in the lecture^
room with Keble, but they became fully accepted
members of our society, and on intimate terms with

Corpus Christi, 1809. 19
him. Of the latter I surely need say nothing gene
rally — nor will I repeat what I have said elsewhere
of the unhappy interruption of his intimate inter
course with Keble ; to both it was a bitter trial, and
I am sure that in neither did it extinguish the ten
derest love for the other. Both Cornish and Arnold
were great accessions to our society. I must yet add
to this list the mention of six others, Noel Thomas
Ellison, afterwards Fellow and Tutor of Balliol, John
Tucker, T. Trevenen Penrose, John Bartholomew,
William Henry Turner, and Charles Dyson ; the first
of these was elected to a Durham Scholarship at the
same time at which I was elected, and the last two
I found in residence as Bachelors when I joined the
College ; of Cornish and Dyson it will be part of my
plan to say a few words more in detail. Tucker
and Turner, I am happy to say, survive. Of Ellison
I must say in passing, that joined to considerable
talents, he had an originality and earnest simplicity
of manner as well as warmth of heart, which made
him a most delightful companion and loved friend.
Balliol men will never forget that he was one of those
who, succeeding as Tutor to the late Master, carried
on the system which has raised that College to its
present eminence, with a zeal, and genial hearti
ness, that could not but contribute largely to its.
success. There is a sonnet among Keble's miscella
neous poems, written on a visit to him at Huntspill,
which at once testifies to Keble's love of him, and

20 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
paints with a single felicitous touch the winning
character of the man.
Thus I have named a few of those who formed
our small circle, and looking back through the me
dium of affection and regret, seeing everything, dis
tance-mellowed and softened, perhaps glorified, I
may exaggerate our activity in the studies of the
place, the simplicity and ease of our social inter
course, the delights of our walks, and the intellec
tual interest of our earnest talks together. I may
exaggerate, but I do not invent ; and one proof
I think Is this, that although many of us were soon
scattered to fellowships in other Colleges, and took
different courses in life, became immersed in other
cares, and pursued different professions, in one
thing we all agreed — our hearty love and prefer
ence for Corpus Christi, and the looking back with
unmixed and undiminishing delight on the days we
passed together within her walls. Keble gave ut-
terance to his feelings, when he quitted it, in the
following lines, which can have no more appropriate
place than here : —
" How soft, how silent, has the stream of Time '
Borne me unheeding on, since first I dream'd '%,
Of Poetry and Glory in thy shade, %
Scene of my earliest harpings. There, if oft,
(As through thy courts I took my nightly round,
Where thy embattled line of shadows hid
The moon's white glimmerings) on my charmed ear,

Corpus Christi, 1811. 21

Have swelled of thy triumphant minstrelsy
Some few faint notes : if one exulting chord
Of my touched heart has thrill'd in unison,
Shall I not cling unto thee 1 Shall I cast
No strained glance on my adopted home
Departing ? Seat of calm delight, farewell !
Home of my muse, and of my friends ! I ne'er
Shall see thee, but with such a gush of soul
As flows from him, who welcomes some dear face
Lost in his childhood — yet not lost to me
Art thou ; for still my heart exults to own thee,
And memory still, and friendship make thee mine."
June2j, 1811.
The insertion of these verses reminds me that
I had brought from Eton the practice of the set to
which I belonged, of keeping each a " Silva" (as we
ventured to call it), into which we transcribed, among
other and better but not more valued things, our own
efforts in prose and verse. Keble and Arnold adopted
it, and to this may be owing the preservation of a
great many of their youthful poems. It may well
be believed, that I turn over those yellow pages
now and then with intense interest ; and although,
no doubt, I regard the compositions with too much
partiality for a critic, yet I think I may safely say
that they bear unanswerable testimony to the taste
and scholarship, as well as the original ability, of
some at least of the students of that day.

CHAPTER III.
JOHN MILTER. — GEORGE JAMES CORNISH. —
CHARLES DYSON.
IN placing these three names at the head of this
chapter, and devoting it to a short account of
them, I am not unmindful of Cowper's clever warn
ing against framing records of "names of little
note;" nor does it escape me that I may seem to
depart from my proper subject. But Keble's cha
racter through life was but a strict development of
his character in youth ; and his early friendships
were among the more powerful agents in its forma
tion. His disposition was social, his affections very
warm, breaking through the restraint of his natural
shyness; and although his purity of spirit secured
him from loving any one wholly unworthy of his
love, yet his humility was so great that he was apt
not merely to undervalue himself, but to overvalue
whatever there was of good or great in those whom
he loved. It may easily be understood, therefore,
how open he was to influences from his friendships,
and how enduring his friendships were.
I think it well on these grounds to select the three
of all whom I am at liberty to mention, whom he
seemed to me to love most dearly among his asso-

John Miller. 23

ciates while an Undergraduate, and who in different
ways and degrees most influenced his habitual way
of thinking and feeling in after life. They are the
three whose names I have prefixed to this chapter.
John Miller was not a Corpus man, but of Wor
cester College, and in what way Keble first became
acquainted with him, I cannot now state. He had
passed his examination, and been placed in the
First Class in Classics a year before I came to Ox
ford, and I think I met him for the first time in
the year 18 10 in the Theatre. He had gained the Ba
chelor's Prize then newly instituted by Lord Grenville
for Latin Prose, and I had been fortunate enough to
win the Undergraduate's for Latin Verse. Thence
forward through life he treated me with the greatest
kindness, and I could not but love and honour him
more and more the longer I knew him. But with
Keble his relations were more close, and from an
earlier period ; as young men they had so much in
common, in their habits, and characters, and in their
simplicity of manner and original humour, that when
thrown together they could not well escape an inti
mate friendship ; and as they walked on in the path
of that profession to which they were both devoted,
there was on almost all points such agreement as
to its obligations, and the manner of discharging
them, as well as to the various questions which
from time to time agitated Churchmen, that the
early friendship could not but endure and ripen into

24 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
the closest intimacy. Keble, indeed, was sure to re
gard Miller with reverence, and he always spoke
and wrote of him with that feeling on his mind;
but this did not prevent them from genial merri
ment and familiarity when they met. Those were,
indeed, white days to Keble; here and there through
his correspondence the visits of Miller to Fairfordj'
or their meetings elsewhere, are mentioned with real
delight. It is thus that he speaks of him in a
letter to Cornish, dated from Fairford, Sept. 22,
1818:— "We have got good Miller regularly settled, I do not
mean married, only fifteen miles from us, in one of the
prettiest little ravines in the chalk escarpment beyond
Highworth, nearly in a line from us ; and the church,*1
close to which stands his parsonage, is a pattern of neat
ness ; it has, moreover, one of the prettiest Saxon door
ways I ever saw. Tom and I pilgrimed it over there the
other day, and found Hooker and his father and sister at
home, but thank God no Joan to mar the quietness of the
family party, which was just what you would expect You
must come and see us and him. I assure you he enquired
after you very particularly. What a book his is, (he al
ludes to the Bampton Lectures) ; the more I go on pon- ;s
dering it, the more light it seems to throw on every sub- '
ject, and hardly any thing else that I take up that does
not put me in mind of it. If I must jure into any man's
verbs, I think on the whole it would be his."
Miller, like Keble, retired early from Oxford into

John Miller. 25

the country, and, except when he returned at inter
vals at the request of his College to assist for a time
in the tuition, he passed his days residing with his
father, or his brother and sister, devoted to the duties
of his profession, and always in rural parishes. He fell
asleep in 1858, after a short illness, in his seventy-first
year, and was laid by the side of his brother, in his
own quiet churchyard, lamented not least by those
among whom he had ministered for so many years ;
who, (as has been well said in a short memoir to
which I am much indebted,) however incompetent
to form a judgment of him in other respects, were
fully able to estimate his worth as a " Christian
minister, a neighbour, and a man." The " other re
spects" here mentioned refer to his published works ;
there were several of these, the most important the
Bampton Lectures for 18 17, and a volume of Ser
mons published in 1830. The ordinary fate of pub
lished sermons is almost proverbial, and I fear these
have not escaped it; but they are of remarkable
merit, and I am sure will richly repay the study of
any reader. Both have received testimonials as unsus
picious as they are valuable. In the " Life and Cor
respondence of Bishop Jebb" is a letter from him,
in which he first shortly expresses in the strongest
terms the general impression which the Lectures
had made on him, and then goes through a long
and minute examination of them, expressing dif
ferences of opinion as to several particulars, but de-

26 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
tracting nothing from his general admiration. Of
the Sermons, Robert Southey writes : —
" These are, in the true sense of a word which has been
most lamentably misapplied, Evangelical. I do not know
any discourses in which revealed truths and divine philo
sophy are brought home with such practical effect to all
men. They have the rare merit of being at the same time
thoroughly intelligible, thoroughly religious, thoroughly
discreet \"
In another letter he says of them : —
" They are unlike any others which I have ever reai
They are thoroughly Christian in their spirit, and philo
sophical, comprehensible by the plainest understanding,
and as satisfactory to the judgment as they are to the
feelings b."
These are testimonies to which of course I add
nothing of my own ; but I will mention two other
small but very interesting publications by him, "A
Christian Guide for Plain People," published in 1 820,
and "Things after Death," of which the second edi
tion was published in 1854. Ofthe former of these
two, Keble says this in a letter to me of April,
1820: —
" Have you read a little publication of Miller's which I
sent to James Coleridge, and if you have, how do you like
it ? Miller has been quite unwell since he wrote it, and we
" Souther's " Life and Correspondence," vol. vi. p. 90. •> Ibid,

John Miller. 27

began to be rather alarmed about him ; chiefly, I believe,
on the notion that he was too good to live; but I am
thankful to say that he is now much better. Perhaps you
do not know that he is in part returned to College, as he
comes up for the last three weeks of every Term to Col-
lectionize. And from this, and his being situated within
fifteen miles of us in the country, I hope to see more and
more of him ; and if I am not very much the better for
doing so, I know whose fault it must be. Lest you should
think his style in this new book too obscure for the ' Plain
People,' I must tell you that he made Moliere's experiment ;
for he gave the Sermons to his servant, quite a rustic lad,
to read before he printed them, and the man said he under
stood them all except the fifth, which accordingly M. made
plainer, till the youth professed himself satisfied with it.
And his father, the Clerk of the Parish, had given the
greatest proof of his understanding even of this the ob
scurest part, for he said to Miller, ' O yes, Sir, I see what
you mean, you mean such and such people (naming them)
by the one of your two classes, and such and such by the
other.' Now, as it happened, the Sermons were written
while M. was in Herefordshire, before ever he had set his
eyes on the said people. I call this a very satisfactory
experiment, quite as much so as most of Sir Humphrey
Davy's ; and it seems to establish, what I have long wished
to believe, and am now almost convinced of, viz. that poor
people, generally speaking, have much greater understanding
of what we say to them, than most of us are apt to fancy;
in short, that ignorance as well as infidelity comes more
from the heart than from the head."

I think I shall be forgiven for adding what he

28 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
wrote on the same subject, about the same time,
to Dyson, who was then an incumbent in York
shire : —
" I wish I could send you a little book which Miller has
just published, called a Christian Guide for Plain (not ugly)
People. It seems to me to be just what we want; but
Parker apparently does not think well of its sale, as he
has only printed 500 copies of it. The worst of it is, that
people are determined beforehand to fancy every thing
Miller writes so very hard to understand. Do you not
think there is a great deal of laziness in that kind of ob
jection, urged as we continually hear it against both Di
vinity and Poetry ? Miller, however, has done more than
most men to secure this book's being intelligible to those
for whom it is written, for he made his servant read it, like
Moliere rehearsing his plays to the old woman, and altered
some places which he did not understand, but found him
perfectly up to the general drift of it. I wonder whether
people that write tracts for the poor generally take this
method ; it seems mere common sense for them to do so,
and yet one can hardly think they do. One thing is, the
poor certainly understand the meaning of a sentence very
often when they could not for their lives explain the single
words of which it is made up ; and if I find it so in Glou
cestershire, which is a mere Boeotia, much more, I ween, do
you in Yorkshire, which is so famed for the shrewdness of
its rustics."
This was the man between whom and Keble the
closest communion of feelings and principles existed.
They were strikingly alike in the warmth of their

George James Cornish. 29

home affections, in their early and absolute renun
ciation of the honours of the world, in their devo
tion to their profession from the very beginning,
and always in the most quiet and humble line in
which its duties could be presented to them ; alike,
too, in this, that retired as were their lives, their
interest was sensibly alive as to all the questions
which from time to time arose and affected the
Church ; upon these they never failed to take counsel
together, and they spared no pains to advance what
they deemed her true interests.

I had known Cornish, who was born at Ottery
St. Mary, June 7, 1794, from his childhood well;
we separated as. boys, he for Westminster, and I for
Eton, and we met again upon his election as Scholar
in 1 810. He had grown to be a young man of very
gentlemanly appearance, with somewhat of reserve,
and what might almost be taken for haughtiness in
his manner; this was in reality the result of great
refinement of feeling and of shyness. No one, indeed,
had less of haughtiness in his nature ; he was very
modest, of keen sensibilities, and accurate taste ;
and these rather than great vigour, or power of sus
tained application, were the characteristics of his
intellect. He was pure-hearted as a child, and very
affectionate ; his seeming coldness soon yielded to
the kindness of his reception amongst us; and his

30 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
geniality with a kind of Cervantic humour, which
he often displayed very amusingly, made him soon
a great favourite. He was just the person to attract
Keble's love; and I see in their correspondence to
the end of his life the tenderness in Keble and
somewhat of the manner of an elder brother to
wards him. This tenderness, in kind as well as in
degree, extended itself to the other members of
his family, and to his widow and children after his
death. He was placed in the First Class for Clas
sics at the Michaelmas Examination for 1 813, and
in due course became Fellow, and afterwards Tutor
of the College ; but the University life was not to
his taste. He, too, had devoted himself to pastoral
duty, and having married early, he retired to the
curacy of Salcombe, near to Salcombe Hill, his
father's house ; he dwelt after a time at Packcombe,
a sweet secluded cottage in the hills at a little dis
tance. But he was not a man to be overlooked,
and at Michaelmas, 1828, he was collated by his old
master, Bishop Carey, to the united Vicarages of Ken-
wyn and Kea, a large and important Cure in Corn
wall. Here he acquired high estimation in the dio
cese, and was clearly marked out for advancement;
but his health, never strong, and too severely tried
by losses of his children, and by family afflictions,
gave way, and he died in the prime of life, Sept
10, 1849, dearly loved, highly honoured, and tenderly
lamented.

George James Cornish. 3 1

It was thus that Keble wrote respecting his illness
and death to Dyson : —
" So I missed seeing him once more, and the last time
was at our consecration. It is such a comfort to me to
think of him here, with old Tom, Coleridge, and others.
About him it seems purely selfish to grieve. Yet one does
grieve very much ; one feels that this world can never be
the same without him; the things which he would have
said, or thought, on different occasions, come so naturally
into one's mind 
" What a time it seems since we have met, and how much
I seem to have to say ! but I don't like saying it now, be
cause it is not all about him."
Then at the close of his note, he adds : —
"Private. My dear Dyson, do ask for me that I may
meet him again. . . . Ever your most' loving J. K."
The reader of "The Christian Year" must have
been thankful to Keble for appending to the stanzas
on the Twenty-first Sunday after Trinity the exqui
site little poem to the Redbreast. It is by Cornish.
He was one of the band of friends who were from
time to time interchanging amongst each other their
compositions. He continued to write, as occasions
moved him, as long as he lived. Upon his death,
at the request of his parishioners, a volume of his
sermons was printed, and to this, by the desire of
some of his friends, was appended a selection from
these verses. I have often wished, and I still wish,
that these last had been published in a separate small

32 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

volume. The sermons have much merit, and must
have been a valued and appropriate present to his
parishioners ; but, as commonly happens with ser
mons, 4heir circulation was not large, and was limited,
I think, to a single edition. Unfortunately they
buried the poems, which deserve another fate, un
less I am deceived by my love for the author, and
my familiarity with some of the scenes and persons
alluded to in them. I own I can never read several
of them without being much affected, and I do not
think I am in error when I say that they are so
tasteful and finished in composition, so imaginative;
so true, and so full of genuine tenderness, that they
would give pleasure to a larger circle if they were
more generally known. I do not wholly despair that
this may yet be done ; and I could I believe add
some which might well have a place among them,
I will insert a specimen conceived in the same spirit
as the lines on the Redbreast.
Come to the Woods.
When the hour of meeting's nigh,
And thy heart is beating high,
Come to the woods, the woods, lad.
And if the boughs are ringing,
With all their minstrels singing,
Do thou, too, rejoice,
And utter a voice
More glad.

George James Cornish. 33'
Or if on Winter's tide
Floats Autumn's wither'd pride,
Come to the woods, the woods, lad.
Why should the bard be dumb ?
'Tis meet that thou shouldst come
Their Spring gifts to repay,
And make the pale day
Less sad.
The Poems already published are so little known,
I fear, that I will venture to add one from them :—
Dreams.
My dearest love, to whom I owe
That I am whatsoe'er I be ;
Whose sun-lit eye, in hours of woe,
Has bid the darkest shadows flee ;
Whose steady step the path pursued,
That from afar thy wisdom viewed ; —
If brightest promise disappear,
Joy after joy perchance decay,
I still can dry the flowing tear,
All thankful for the joys that stay ;
For Mercy and eternal Truth
Surely have followed me from youth.
Only, " my life's celestial sign,"
Thy presence must be with me still ;
The rest I freely can resign,
Obedient to the Master's will.
Not thee ! not thee ! my anguished heart,
Not yet from thee has leamt to part.
D

34 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.

And yet Life's fairest hours are fled,
The latter sands too plainly run ;
And Time his early snow to shed
Upon our brows has now begun ;
And swifter does the torrent flow,
Ere yet it seek the gulf below.
Hence, idle dreams ! the day is ours,
And we will " work while it is day,''
And consecrating all our powers
To God, and, living as we pray,
In calmness wait His power to prove,
Whose knowledge but subserves His love.
May, 1845.
I might have hesitated to reprint these stanzas, but
that since I commenced this little notice of the hus
band, the wife to whom they are addressed has been
called to her rest. I am at liberty now to say, that
there is not a syllable of exaggeration in this out
pouring of love ; it is but justice to the wife from
the husband, who had tried and never found her
wanting. His was a nature which required support,
and, as I have said, he was severely tried ; beyond
his own immediate circle, he had painful sorrows;
within it he lost child after child ; and though he
bowed in Christian submission to the blows, his sen
sitive nature could not sustain them without injury.
In all these sorrows she was his earthly stay and
comfort. . He died ; and what she had been to
him, she continued to be to her children, until her

Charles Dyson. 35

strength failed under the severity, and the continu
ance of the calls made on it, and she departed in
peace. She was, indeed, what in one of his poems
he calls her, a noble woman.

I have felt it to be no departure from my main
object to dwell for a little while on the memory of
John Miller and George Cornish. In respect of
Charles Dyson, I may say, with the strictest ac
curacy, that no memoir of Keble, however short,
could be complete which omitted to give some idea
of this dear friend. Perhaps no man of equal vir
tue, sweetness, cultivation, and ability, ever passed
through life so little known beyond the circle of his
own family and friends ; and yet I think no man was
ever more loved and revered within that circle, or
exercised a more powerful influence over the minds
of those with whom he was intimate. Keble was
among these; the intimacy commenced, as I have
said, at Corpus, and continued to the end of Dy
son's life unbroken ; and I speak with substan
tial accuracy when I say that there was scarcely
¦ a step which he took, especially in matters connected
, with his profession, or the Church, to which he did
-. not make Dyson first privy, ask his co-operation, if
3 the thing admitted of it, and always seek, if he did
' not always follow, his advice. The extracts from
ithe correspondence, which! shall have occasion to

36 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
make, will shew this in numerous 'instances. It
may suffice now to say, that it was Dyson very
mainly who overcame his reluctance to publish
" The Christian Year," and to whom, perhaps, above
all his other friends, the world owes that great gift
when it was first made.
Charles Dyson was the grandson of the Jeremiah
Dyson of whom Johnson in his life of Akenside, re
cords, that the poet physician " would perhaps have
been reduced to great exigencies, but that Mr. Dyson,
with an ardour of friendship that has not many ex
amples, allowed him three hundred pounds a-year,;"
munificence indeed, when the times and Mr. Dyson's
own means are considered. Dyson once said to me,
" My grandfather was satyrized by Horace Walpole,
but he was a noble fellow ; he would not sell the
places at the table of the House of Commons,:as
his predecessors always did, but appointed Hatsell
freely, losing £6,000 thereby, and Hatsell in con
sequence appointed my father freely." His son Jere
miah followed his steps in the House, and finally
filled the same post there ; and it was intended that
his grandson, of whom I write, should pursue the
same course ; but this from the most generous mo
tives he abandoned, and then resolutely and earn
estly devoted himself to the Church.
When I entered the College, he had already taken
his Bachelor's degree ; he was, however, still a re
gular resident according to the College rule, and

Charles Dyson. 37

was one of the kindly party who greeted me on my
admission into the Junior Common-room. Keble
and he were already on friendly terms, and I was
happy enough to be soon admitted to the same
privilege. Delicacy of constitution, and principle
equally made him a very abstinent man, but he
was by disposition social ; his father's position, and
the society with which he associated at his home,
his more frequent visits to London, the extent and
variety of his reading, and information, might have
made him much regarded by us who were younger,
and had seen less of the world ; but he added to all
these advantages such sweetness of temper, and so
much quiet humour, as made his society eagerly
coveted. Drinking tea in his room, two or three
of us at a time, was a great delight. I smile when
I remember how we thought of his tea from Twi-
nings, and his wax lights ; luxuries or refinements
which in our day, or at least in our College, were
not commonly indulged in. He was very fond of
coming out late at night and pacing up and down
our little quadrangle ; many and many a happy talk
have Keble and I had with him in this way; to
which, I think, he alludes in the verses which I just
now quoted.
He became a Fellow of the College; and was
elected Anglo-Saxon Professor in 18 12 ; one ad
mirable lecture, and one only, he delivered. He
ought, no doubt, to have done more, but in those

•38 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
days the duties of such professorships were not re
garded as they now are. He could not be called an
indolent man, for he was always rather a laborious,
student ; but he had a nice, even fastidious,. taste in
composition, and he was very conscientious in his
preparation for any work, a severe judge of his own
performances, and never thought himself fully pre
pared to be a public teacher. He ought to have
been a great ecclesiastical historian. Keble repeat
edly urged him to this," and he commenced his pre
parations, but so conscientiously and on so large
a scale that the days of health and vigour passed
away in making them ; and when his pen should
have been in his hand, and his. work begun, his con
stitution gave signals of weakness, and his strength
failed him.
He married his cousin, and retired to the living
of Nun Burnholme, in Yorkshire, to which he had
been collated by Archbishop Harcourt, a friend of
his father's. The severity of the climate affected
Mrs. Dyson's health, and this led him for a time to
return to Oxford, as one of the Chaplains of his
College. The libraries of the University and its
society no doubt contributed to this choice. He
exchanged Nun Burnholme finally for Nazing, in
Essex, and this again he resigned in order to devote
himself to the care and comfort of his father, who,
in somewhat declining health, had become a second
time a widower, and was then residing at Petworth.

Charles Dyson. 30,

There were family circumstances which seemed to
cast this duty on him specially, into which it is unne
cessary for me to enter ; but Dyson had his scruples
as to the resignation of his living, and consulted
Keble upon it, whose answer was, " All I can say is,
I have given up my Curacy in order to take charge
of my father and sister." Dyson, however, was con
stantly at the service of the neighbouring clergy ;
and, indeed, for a part of the time, took a Curacy
near. His father died in the autumn of 1835, about
the time of Keble's marriage ; and I insert here an
extract from the letter to Dyson and Mrs. Dyson,
in which he acknowledges their congratulations on
his own marriage, and expresses his condolence
on Mr. Dyson's death. This letter happens to con
tain a fuller expression of his judgment on the
resignation of his living.
K High-street, Southampton, Nov. 5, 1835.
" My very dear Friends,
" It is inexcusably selfish to go on so long without acknow
ledging your great kindness in thinking of us at such a time
so much and so kindly, and without assuring you that we
have not been unmindful of you ; though, indeed, it was
a good while before we heard the news of your irreparable
loss, for we had no letter that succeeded in overtaking us
for ten days after our flight from Gloucestershire. It is
a strange sort of feeling that one has in thus interchanging
congratulations and condolences, and the perplexity of it,
if it were not for that end to which we trust both will help

40 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
in guiding us, would be not a little painful ; as it is, I hope
we may say, without presumption, that even to our half
blind eyes the good very much preponderates. It is sweet
to think ofthe rich reward you. have even already received,
for coming when you did to stay where you did, and. most
refreshing to hear that your dear sister bears this second
great trial so well, — a blessing which, under Providence,
you may surely attribute to your taking the step you did.
Seldom, inde'ed, I shbuld think (if one may say so without
presumption), is approbation of living man's conduct more
clearly intimated. What you say of looking for a cure in
Hampshire (for Elizabeth has sent it to us), quite makes
one ache with the pleasant fancy (one dares not nurse it
into a hope) of your coming near us."
Dyson now quitted Petworth; he was anxious to
resume his professional duties in the care of a parish,
and was seeking for a curacy, when the late Dowagef
Lady Mildmay, who had been a family friend, pre
sented him to the rectory of Dogmersfield. Thithef
he repaired. At his own expense he built a par
sonage, for he would not impose a burthen on a
family living by borrowing the money for the pur
pose ; and helped his sister, who thenceforth resided
with him, in building a new parish church. Both
were placed in situations more convenient than the
old ones, for the larger and poorer part of his
parishioners. At Dogmersfield he resided for the
remainder of his life. My readers may smile at my
stating the nicknames he bore among his intimate
friends, but they were characteristic of the man, and

Charles Dyson. 41

will re-appear, it may be often, in Keble's letters. At
Corpus he took by inheritance from his grandfather
and father the familiar abbreviation of Jeremiah, and
acquired for himself the title of the Venerable Bede ;
at Dogmersfield he became the Simorg, and the Rec
tory was of course his Nest. And truly it was a nest,
in which the doubtful and distressed never failed to
find comfort and counsel, the cheeriest comfort, the
wisest counsel. His society and conversation were
delightful ; in his talk such a happy mixture of things
old and new, enriched with so much anecdote and
literature, so grave and so charitable on serious sub
jects, and on all so seasoned with quiet humour in
the manner. Retiring from notice and unknown to
the world, discharging his duties in the quietest and
most peaceful spirit, he was yet to all who knew him
an object of loving veneration. Adventures in his life
there were none to tell. He was a diligent pastor,
an earnest student, a delightful host; his greatest
pleasure beyond what these things implied was in
seeing country at home and abroad. As soon as the
Continent opened in 1814, I accompanied him part
way in a tour into France, Switzerland, and Italy, with
two brothers, Nathanael and Noel Ellison. In a large
old family coach, with the same pair of horses we
went through the heart of France with great delibera
tion to Lyons, and thence up the Rhone to Geneva, —
happy days which I still delight to think on. Keble
was to have been of the party, but was prevented.

42 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Arnold says in a letter to me', "I saw Dyson
the other day in Oxford when I went to take my
degree of B.D., and he and his wife were enough
to freshen one's spirit for some time to come," an
observation strikingly characteristic of the effect of
intercourse with him. When Keble had become Vicar
of Hursley, Dyson and he were within easy distance
of each other on the same line of railway ; the one,
however, had many engagements at home and abroad,
and Mrs. Keble's health required his close attendance
on her often, and sometimes for long periods ; the
delicacy of the other's constitution made movements
from home not easy always to him ; yet personally
or by letter seldom or never did the one take any
step of importance without seeking, counsel at the
hand of the other, and every now and then they had
joyous and remembered meetings. Numerous was
the band which gathered round Dyson's grave when
it pleased God to call him home. I well remember
that after the funeral and the dispersion of the
general body of attendants on it, Keble and I
passed the afternoon until it was necessary for him
to return home, strolling together in the fields near
the house and church, conversing, as we had not
often an opportunity to do, on the past and the
future. The last time I saw Dyson was toward the end of
' "Life," vol. i. p. 73.

Charles Dyson. 43

February, i860. I found him altered in appearance,
feebler in body, and manifestly declining. Yet the
approaches to death were so soft and gentle, and he
contemplated his end so peacefully and hopefully,
that it was not a painful subject to talk about, and
we talked much of it Among other things I remem
ber we conversed on the intermediate state and the
condition of the blessed. I asked him, " When your
mind has been running on these subjects, have you
ever followed the thought on as to literature or in
tellect ? Will Shakespeare be anything there beyond
humbler men ?" He said, " I remember years ago
we discussed this in my rooms at Corpus. I believe
I was for some superiority for cultivated intellect,
but I think now it is the affections of the heart that
will be the test of superiority. Many a humble per
son of whom we know nothing now, will be called up
from the lowest place to sit down on high. Abdiel
was but a seraph, yet he might be an archangel."
" But," I said, " David's Psalms, merely as productions
of the intellect, will they be as nothing in the scale ?"
" Oh," he answered, " we know that such as he —
Prophets, Apostles, Saints — will have their special
places." " We must still," I said, " cultivate our
talents, of course." " Of course we must ; but you
know the affections, our circumstances, our opportu
nities are all talents, as much as the gifts of the in
tellect. No doubt there will be disparities ; many are
called, few chosen, there are many mansions."

44 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
As we stood by his mantelpiece shortly before I
left him, he pointed out some old family drawings
and little relics which friends had brought him from
their travels. I remember a fragment of rock from ¦
Sinai, a stone from Jordan, a bit of the rocky ground
of the pathway from Bethany to Jerusalem. He re
marked how in looking on such things, and recall
ing the scenes of his boyhood and youth, he was
moved, sometimes almost to tears.
I see him now standing at the door as I left him;
with a smile on his face, and in his old playful way
he said, " Well, Privy Councillor, good-bye ; thank
you for this. I cannot tell you how much pleasure
you have given me by this visit."
So we parted, for this life.
I may, and I probably shall, be blamed for lingering
so long in this digression, but at whatever cost I must
yet add to it. I cannot but in some sort acknowledge,
though I can never pay, to my friend the debt I owe
him. He was, indeed, my friend, and when he was
a friend, he was the best of friends. How he dis
charged that duty to me in the particulars, as from
time to time the calls arose, of course can never be
told to the public, but it will not be forgotten by some
at least in this and another generation ; and I am
persuaded his acts, and the spirit in which he did
them, are written for him in that memorial where
alone he would wish them to appear. In the various**
trials and troubles which have been sent to me in no

Charles Dyson. 45

unusual number or magnitude in the course of a long
life, and especially during my early struggles in my
profession, he was my never-failing stay, my helper,
my counsellor. Childless himself, his paternal feel
ings (tender and hearty they were) flowed out on my
children. He sometimes could and did more than
fill my place. In sickness or in health his house was
to them a home, and he nothing short of a father ;
he would suspend his own studies without reluctance
to direct theirs, and never seemed to feel their pre
sence a disturbance to his own quiet How they
gained by the love and wisdom, the quiet sympathy,
and the pleasant humour, which did not enfeeble dis
cipline, but made its presence unfelt, it is impossible
for me to say or for them to forget Pleasant, in
deed, it is for me to feel that one and not the least
valuable of the impressions made on them still re
mains fresh and strong in the hearty and reverential
love they bear to his memory. Dogmersfield is still
to them in recollection a home, and Uncle Charles,
as they called him, a revered and beloved father.
The surviving member of that household must for
give me if I cannot keep back how she and her
sister contributed to the charm, which even now
makes that Simorg's Nest a hallowed place in the
recollections of us all.
I hope I may be forgiven if I print here a part of
one even of my own letters, which I have found among
a number preserved by Keble, and returned to me

46 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
by his brother. It is in remarkable harmony with
what I have just written.
" My dearest John Keble, — I think I know how you
must feel the blow which has lighted on us both in the de
parture of our most dear friend at Dogmersfield, and I
cannot help writing a line to you. I naturally turn to the
last survivor of the Corpus band to which I was so tenderly
united, and I have been thinking over the days when,
rough and rude as I was, he and you and others accepted
me into that choice little circle. I have been thinking, too,
how ever since, on occasion after occasion when I have
wanted the advice, or the comfort, or the help of a friend,
he never failed me. How wise and good he was ! I do
not think I exaggerate when I say he was the wisest man
in the best sense I have ever been familiar with, and yet
how humble and how simple ! In his happy retirement,
with no countenance from great people, no fame in the
world, how entirely free was he from envy or repining ; in
deed, he was incapable of both; taking a lively interest in
the important matters which stirred the State or the Churchy
giving out his words of wisdom about them, but not desiring
to be taking any part in them. How often have I thought
of that little Nest and the slender tie on which so much
happiness, and the exercise of so much goodness, in that
place, hung, and now that tie is rent asunder. I presume
you and I shall meet at his grave."
His saltern accumulem donis.

CHAPTER IV.
FINAL EXAMINATION. — ELECTION AT ORIEL. — UNI
VERSITY PRIZES. — SIDMOUTH. — ORDINATIONS.—
FIRST CURACY.
KEBLE passed his final examination in Easter
Term, 1810, and was placed in both First Classes.
Up to that time no one had earned this distinction
but Sir Robert Peel, with whose examination the
University was ringing when I matriculated. Keble's
youth, and what seemed, but I believe only seemed,
imperfect preparation, made his success the more re
markable. It was a joy to us personally for the love
we bore him, and a triumph, too, beyond that which
a College always feels for distinction won by one of
its members. In our little circle we had known that
he had doubted whether he should be able to pre
pare himself in both lines, and some of that doubt
had perhaps spread amongst us as to the result ; but
both his tutors, Brydges the Mathematical, as well as
Cooke, had urged him on, and they judged his powers
more accurately than we. I now see from his letters
to his father that at the very crisis of his preparation
he was also writing both for the Latin and English
Verse Prizes. I was not aware of it at the time. He
knew, I dare say, that I was competing also, and

48 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
therefore made no communication to me. The Eng
lish Verses I have never seen ; some of the Latin
appear in his correspondence with his father, sent to
him for his censure. I wish I could have recovered
the letters in which he must have announced to
his father his success and his disappointment, they
would surely have been very interesting. All his
letters to his father which I have seen are in the
affectionate and unpretending spirit of a boy, open-
hearted yet deferential, considerate as to the expense
he was occasioning, and shewing a strong desire to
relieve him from it
With a view to this I find him in one proposing to
stand for a Fellowship at Magdalen, which it was
probable some circumstances would shortly throw
open. But the character he had now attained put
an end to any scheme of this kind, by opening to him
the prospect of the great distinction of a Fellowship
at Oriel.
He was elected a Probationer Fellow there on the
20th of April, 181 1, wanting then a few days of having
completed his nineteenth year ; and took his place at
the High. Table and in the Senior Common-room
among that body, which even then gave the tone to
the intellectual pursuits of the University, and which
within a few years, by the gradual accession of re
markable men, was to acquire name and celebrity
far and wide, and to originate a movement of which
the effects are still felt through every part of the

University Prizes. asj

Church of England. Whately entered it with him,
and they found Copleston and Davison in the lead
of it. I well remember being there as Keble's guest,
and being struck with the remarkable deference with
which these two were treated ; it was such as some
what to check the social pleasure of the party.
His progress was now rapid. In 1812 he won the
Prizes for both the Bachelor's Essays, the English on
Translation from Dead Languages, the Latin a com
parison of Xenophon and Julius Caesar as Military
Historians of Campaigns in which they had been
themselves engaged. This was an honour at that
time unprecedented ; indeed, the Latin Essay Prize
had only been founded by Lord Grenville in 18 10,
but the same success has been very rarely achieved
since ; twice only, I believe ; and in one of those in
stances by no less a man than my old school-fellow
and friend, H. H. Milman, the late Dean of St. Paul's.
Lord Grenville on all these occasions testified his
sense of "the very commendable industry and ex
ertion, as well as of the merit of the compositions,"
by a present of valuable books beyond the regular
Prize, which was a sum of money. In one of his
letters, from which I shall have occasion to make an
extract, Keble refers to his Plutarch very amusingly.
Being resident, and without College office, he soon
became engaged in private tuition, and in the Long
Vacation of 18 13 a small party of pupils gathered
round him at Sidmouth, where he rented a picturesque
E

SO Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
cottage (Myrtle Cottage) out of the town, the garden
being bordered by the Sid, and within a few minutes
walk of the sea. This was the property of Cornish's
father, and adjoining to the Salcombe-hill grounds,
where the Cornish family, a numerous and bright
one of both sexes, resided. He had seen the sea for
the first time at Cowes in the preceding summer,
and had given vent to his feelings in some beauti-.
ful lines ; but he had been very little of a traveller,
and the beauties even of this comparatively tame
part of Devonshire struck him very much. Writing
to an old pupil (Mr. Bliss) he says, —
"As I came into Devonshire in the dark, and conse
quently could not (though very quick-sighted) see a great
deal of the country, I was not a little delighted on waking
the next morning to find myself in a little Paradise."
At this time I had gone through my examination,
and was passing my vacation at my own home at
Ottery St. Mary. The foot-way from one place to
the other was over the steep ridge which divides the
two valleys pf the Sid and the Otter, the distance not
more than six miles, and the views on the way re
markably beautiful. It was a delightful walk, and
the frequent intercourse between us was principally
kept up on foot over the hill. At the termination
of the ridge where it drops down with a steep descent.
into the Sidmouth Gap, are the remains of an Armada
beacon, according to the tradition of the country.

Sidmouth. 5 1

These, at the time I speak of, were not, as now they
are, suffered to be overgrown and hidden by a planta
tion of firs. There on the short green turf we often
rested and enjoyed a view which for beauty, variety,
and extent is not easily to be surpassed. At our feet
was spread out Harpford - wood as a grand carpet
laid on a surface here and there deeply indented,
and beyond lay the rich and wooded valley of the
Otter; thence the ground rises in successive ranges
of hills, until you reach the higher outlines of Dart
moor. Down deep on our left lay Sidmouth and the
blue sea ; this sea-view is interrupted by the bluff
and wooded landward end of Peak -hill, and opens
again beyond this to a wide range of sea and sea-
coast, down to and beyond the Berry Head, the west
ernmost point of Torbay. It needs not to be said
how Keble enjoyed this, and I hope I may be ex
cused for borrowing Wordsworth's verse, —
" We talked with open heart and tongue
Affectionate and true."
Those who have never known Keble familiarly or
only in later life, will scarcely be prepared to hear
with how quick a relish he entered into the gaieties
of Sidmouth. At this time Torquay was little more
than a fishing village, and Sidmouth, though a small
place, was much frequented by families seeking to
combine the pursuit of health for the delicate, with that
of amusement for the strong. It was consequently

S 2 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
as much a winter watering-place as a summer, and
much of social intercourse was maintained all through
the winter. No one was better received than Keble,
and no one, I may add, seemed to enjoy more heartily
the morning or evening parties, the concerts, and
dances, which were frequent; the scenery and the
society both found him impressionable, and as was
natural they had their effect upon his poetical powers ;
he composed more often and better than he had ever
done before. I am reminded by a note of my own
to him at the time how much I was struck with this ;
in it I urged him to cultivate powers which now
seemed to me unquestionable, and, looking after so
many years with the colder judgment of age on the
poems he then produced, I see no reason to alter my
opinion. They seem to me to promise all that he
afterwards performed. I will insert one specimen
written but a few days before he was to leave Sid
mouth, and addressed " Nunquam auditurae :" —
How can I leave thee all unsung,
While my heart owns thy dear control,
And heaven and love have o'er thee flung
The softest moonlight of the soul ?
Oh, I have long'd for thee to call
Soft Echo from the West Wind's hall,
Some notes as blithely wild to seek,
As the wild music of thy voice,
As the wild roses that rejoice
In thine eye's sunshine, on thy glowing cheek.

Sidmouth.

S3

For not the breath of mortal praise
Thine artless beauty dares profane ;
For thee wild nature wakes her lays,
And thy soul feels the blessed strain.
The song that breaks the grove's repose,
The shower-drop nestling in the rose,
The brooklet's morning melody,
To these with soft and solemn tone
Thy spirit stirs in unison,
Owning the music of its native sky.
And when in some fair golden hour
Thy heart-strings shall give back tlie sigh,
Of Love's wild harp, no earthly bower
Shall lend such hues as bloom to die.
But earnest of the eternal spring,
Their amarant wreaths shall angels bring ;
And preluding the choir of heaven,
Soft Eden gales shall sweep the lyre,
And starlike points of guildess fire
From God's own altar-flame to gem thy brow be given.
It is my pride that I can deem,
Though faindy, of that being's worth,
Who to the All-gracious mind shall seem
Meet help for thee in heaven and earth.
Long as before Life's gale I drive,
Shall holiest hope within me live,
Thee fair, thee blessed while I view ;
And when the port of endless rest
Receives me, may my soul be blest
With everlasting upward gaze on you.
It is needless surely to point out how even at this

54 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

early period of his life what might have been a mere
love-song became in his way of dealing with it ele
vated (perhaps too elevated) and holy from the habi
tual holiness and elevation of all his serious thoughts.
Neither his employment nor the attractions of Sid
mouth, however, prevented Keble from occasional
expeditions into the country, and I remember well
that he and one of his pupils, Mr. Gaussen, with my
self, under the guidance of my father, whose good
taste and familiarity with the country made him the
best of guides, rode from Sidmouth to and through
the north of Devon and the adjoining parts of Somer
setshire. On our return to the neighbourhood of
Exeter we parted, and Keble and his pupil went on
to Plymouth and the Tamar. He was new to scenery
so beautiful or romantic as that which he went through
in the course of this tour. It delighted him at the time,
and produced a permanent impression on his mind,
of which traces may be seen not merely in his corre
spondence, but in his poems. He left Sidmouth with
much regret, and was much regretted by many whom
he left ; by none perhaps more than the fine family
of his landlord, with whom he contracted abiding
intimacy ; and cemented more closely the friend
ship already subsisting between himself and George
Cornish. Not long after his return to Oxford in December,
1 813, on the proposition of Davison, and by the ad
vice of Copleston and his father, he consented to

Examining Master. 55
fill the office of Examining Master from the follow
ing Michaelmas, and he set himself diligently to pre
pare for the work. He had great misgivings, as
was to be expected in one at once so young and so
modest ; and it was a great comfort to him that
not long after Cardwell, two or three years his
senior, was joined to him as colleague ; the two
thoroughly understood each other, and agreed on
the principles which should govern them. There
was no need for his apprehensions. From several
persons examined by him, I have heard that the
simplicity and kindness of his manner, his thorough
acquaintance with the matter of the examination,
together with his entire freedom from desire of dis-
playing himself, — too common a failing, as has been
said, of examining masters, — made him very effec
tive and popular in the Schools. It has happened
to me more than once to meet with men in after
life who were and continued personally strangers
to him, but who had carried out of the Schools
and retained through life a loving estimation of him
merely from his examination of them.
It was during his preparation for the office that I
find in his letters the first entry on a subject which
thenceforward it pleased God to give him almost
constant cause to dwell on, — the illness, I mean, of
one or other of those most dear to him. His letters
to me in the spring and summer of 18 14 mention
the illnesses of two of his sisters, the eldest Eliza-

56 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble:
beth, Sarah the next in order of birth; the latter
was carried off by consumption in that summer;
and it must be interesting to see even at this early
period how definite and cheerful were his convictions
in regard to the Intermediate state of the departed
Christian. Thus he wrote to me : —
" Not that I have been so much overwhelmed by what I
have lately seen and heard as to be unable to write, of to
enter into common subjects. Indeed, when I look back,
I wonder at my own hard-heartedness. I do not believe
there has been one day since my dear sister was given
over, that I have not been able to go on with my reading
as usual. Yet I do not think it is insensibility, that I have
been able to divert my thoughts from her so much, but
chiefly because I had suffered so much from suspense,
which in such cases always leads me to expect and imagine
worse than the worst. Another thing is, that I cannot
even now persuade myself I have lost her, except out of
my sight. That she is happy I have (blessed be God for
it !) the firmest faith, and that in her happiness she remem
bers us, whom living she never forgot, I fondly persuade
myself. Whenever I think of this, (and I have now made
the thought habitual,) it checks my grief, making it seem
altogether selfish and unreasonable. However it be, I con
sider it as a great mercy that my spirit's have not failed
me, since they are quite wanted in the family, and that
principally on Elizabeth's account, who in her helpless
state feels the loss most of all, and has besides suffered
greatly from her lameness within the last two or three
days. Tom does admirably well, his example has been of
very great advantage to me.
" Fairford, Saturday Night, July 2, 1814."

Ordination. 5 7

About the same time, too, that he was first dis
charging the duties of Examiner, his thoughts were
much occupied about his Ordination; he was very
desirous that I should adopt the same course of life
as that on which he was resolved ; he thought my
health, which indeed at the time seemed delicate,
would fail in the profession I had chosen ; but his
principal motive was of a higher kind. It was thus
he wrote of that to which he pressed me in March,
1 8 15. After setting out his (very exaggerated) no
tions of what personal advancement might be in
store for me in the course I had chosen, he says : —
" I feel what it must be to forego the possibility, even
though it were but just possible, of realizing such hopes
as these; nor do I think anything, not even the saving
health and life, would make me forego them, but for
visions far more brilliant and more certain too ; more
brilliant in their results, inasmuch as the salvation of one
soul is worth more than the framing the Magna Charta of
a thousand worlds ; more certain to take place, since temp
tations are fewer, and opportunities everywhere to be
found. Can there be even among the angels a higher pri
vilege that we can form an idea of, than the power of con
tributing to the everlasting happiness of our neighbour to
be especially delegated and assigned to us by Almighty
God ? I would that I were as free from worldly care and
ambition, as the thought of what I hope will be my high
calling ought to make me. I know that 1 am never so free
from evil thoughts as when these things are strongest on
my mind, but how difficult to make them habitual !"

58 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
It was thus he wrote in March. On May the 20th,
but a few days before his ordination, he poured out
to me the genuine feelings of his heart : —
" You ask for my prayers, be assured that you have them ,
though cold and worthless as they are, I can hardly hope
that they can do you good. But thanks be to God, there
is One who can make our worthless offerings available,
Pray for me, too ; pray earnestly, my dear, my best friend,
that He would give me His grace, that I may not be alto
gether unworthy of the sacred office on which I am, rashly
I fear, even now entering; but that some souls hereafter
may have cause to bless me. Pray that I may be freed
from vanity, from envy, from discontent, from impure ima
ginations ; that I may not grow weary, nor wander in heart
from God's service ; that I may not be judging others un
charitably, nor vainly dreaming how they will judge me, at
the very moment that I seem most religiously and most
charitably employed. Without any foolish affectation of mo
desty, I can truly say that the nearer the time approaches,
the more strongly I feel my own unfitness and unworthiness
for the ministry ; yet as I hope it is not such but that it
may be removed in time by earnest and constant use ofthe
means of grace, I do not think it needful to defer my Or
dination; but I want all the help I can get in the awful
and difficult preparation ; do not therefore forget me in
your prayers. I know, indeed, you do not forget me ; but
make especial mention of me at this season. On Sunday
next I hope to be ordained, and on Monday I go to Fair
ford for the summer, having engaged myself for the next six
weeks to take charge of two small parishes, the churches of
which are as near as Oriel and Corpus Chapels, about four
miles distance from Fairford."

Ordinations. 59

He was ordained Deacon on Trinity Sunday, 18 15,
and Priest on Trinity Sunday, 18 16, both by the
Bishop of Oxford, Dr. William Jackson ; and in July
of the latter year, writing to me and congratulating
me on an event which was the prelude to the greatest
happiness of my life, and uttering words of loving
advice, which I look back on now with deep and
grateful interest, he says : —
"You will understand all I mean to say, and cannot.
I want your prayers, too ; very much I want them, for every
day I feel the dangers and anxieties of my profession in
crease upon me. Pray for me that I may not pollute
God's altar with irregular, worldly-minded, self-complacent
thoughts. Pray for me that I may free myself from all
pride, all ambition, all uncharitableness. You caimot think
how a little word which you dropped one day, the last we
met together at Oxford, struck me, and how it has abode
with me ever since. You cautioned me against Formalism ;
I thought it hard at the time, but now I know you had too
good reason. Help me by your prayers, your advice, if
any occurs to you ; and your reproof, if you at any time
think I need it, to get rid of that dangerous habit."
Little did he when he gave vent to his feelings in
these remarkable passages, suppose they would ever
be exposed to the light to which I am now exposing
them, but I cannot believe I do wrong in publishing
them ; no one can doubt that they flowed from his
heart, and it may be useful to many a young man
under similar circumstances to see this living picture

60 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
of what Keble felt at that crisis of his life. I have
more fears on another point, and yet I hope I may
be forgiven for not withholding what relates to my
self only. I could not separate these parts without
impairing that perfect idea of him which the whole
extracts now present ; and I desire any one reading
" The Christian Year," and the " Lyra," to bear this
passage in mind when so engaged with them. I
think he will see proof again and again, that these
were not the passing feelings of moments of excite
ment, but ruling principles ever present and ever
operative on his mind.
How little probably did those who with the Bishop
laid their hands on Keble's head, dream at the time
how holy a spirit, how powerful an agent for good,
by God's blessing, they were enrolling among the
ministers of the Church. On himself the impres
sions of the day were never weakened. Writing in
June, 1827, on Trinity Sunday, to George Cornish,
he says : —
" To-day I have been to an Ordination, for the first time
since I was ordained myself, and I have almost made a vow
to be present at one every year. I think it would do one
a great deal of good, like going back to one's native air after
long intervals."
I must not anticipate, but I may mention in pass
ing, that curiously enough he writes in the same
letter : —

First Curacy. fii

" To-morrow I correct the press of my title-page, which
I need not tell you is always the last thing done in a
book."

This was " The Christian Year."
There was no external manifestation of extra
ordinary or exclusive devotion to his calling in this
commencement of his ministry, the sole charge of
two parishes, East Leach and Burthorpe, small and
contiguous, for six weeks in the Long-vacation ; nor
did he afterwards, when the engagement had be
come permanent, think it necessary to give up his
Oxford employments, or to decline the College
Tutorship when called on to take it. And yet I
doubt not that they were well provided for, and
that scarcely any better introduction could have
been had for him to the duties to which he had
devoted himself. He had his father, then in the
full vigour of his faculties, for his assistant and his
guide. It was a peculiar delight to him to place
himself once more as a pupil under that beloved
and respected guide; while as generally a resident
at Oxford he had probably greater advantages for
the large and well-considered study of divinity, which
he now entered on.
I subjoin an extract from a letter to me written
from Oxford in November, 1815, because it shews
not merely his views as to worldly advancement,
but also how early he took up, what he seems to

62 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble. .
have clung to through life, the necessity of dis
charging his duties as son and brother in close con
nection with, and scarcely in subservience to those
of his profession. He was never, indeed, called on
to make absolutely an election between the two;
the circumstances were always such, that at the
most it was never necessary to do more than
change the scene of his professional labours, in
order to satisfy also family claims on his time and
attention : —
" I have a great deal to say in answer to your first letter,
in which you urge the expediency of my doing something
to secure an independency if I should wish to marry. I
assure you that you quite mistake me, if you suppose that
I disavow entirely all feelings of ambition; on the con
trary, I have a great deal of it, too much, I think, for my
profession. I am far from censuring ambition in general ;
it were idle to blame what most people cannot help feel
ing : but I think I see clearly, that as a motive to my
clerical exertions, it is either wrong in itself, or liable every
moment to become so, and therefore I am sure I ought to
keep it down as much as possible. With respect to my
making some progress towards a maintenance, I have
thought much and seriously about it I do not see any
thing for a country clergyman to do in that way, except
taking pupils : that I cannot do at home, nor should I like
as yet to leave my father's roof ; but if Elizabeth's health,
which I hardly dare hope, should go on to improve, I think
something may be done. I may get a curacy, and take
a house, either near home, or if the sea should be recom
mended to her, near the coast ; I have no particular re-

First Curacy. 63

pugnance to the thing, and I certainly feel that there is
a great deal in what you say. I do not know what my
own prospects are ; but let them be what they will, it is
certainly right and just, that if I have opportunity, I should
do something for myself; but as long as Elizabeth con
tinues so helpless, I should not think I did right in leaving
home on any speculation. Perhaps when Tom leaves Ox
ford, which he will probably do in the course of next year,
we may contrive some gainful grinding scheme between us.
I was very stationary all the summer, but I am a little
afraid that you were right when you warned me against
indolence, in the shape of low spirits, or contentedness.
Yet I seemed to myself almost always busy ; but when I
look back, very httle seems done. Making sermons took
up a good part of the time ; I imposed on myself a law of
writing at least one every week ; and then our school at
Fairford required a good deal of visiting, so that altogether
I am not very much au fait in Latin and Greek ; but my
nerves are more steeled, and my front more bronzed of
late months, so I shall bully away in the Schools as fear
lessly as ever."
I do not attach any special importance to the
extract which I am now about to give from a letter,
which has reached me through the kindness of Mr.
Arnott, as a testimony to Keble's work in his new
sphere of duty ; but it is at least a very genuine
and unsuspicious one, and it contains an anecdote
amusing and characteristic. The writer, who now
lives in Hertfordshire, had heard of the photogra-
phical Memoir of Keble, and was permitted to see
the photographs. The first part of his letter ad-

64 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
dressed "to the gentleman with whom I had an
interview this afternoon," relates to East Leach Church;
then he proceeds thus : —
" I well remember Mr. John Keble coming to Eastleach
to do duty when the Rev. B. Boyes, through age and in
firmity, was unable to do it. A very great change took
place in the village; he commenced a Sunday-school and
the Church, and at Bouthrop (Burthorpe) was well at
tended. How long he was at East Leach I don't know,
but when I went some years after, the Rev. Cooper lived
at the parsonage at Bouthrop, and did duty at both
churches. " Mr. Keble used to ride to and fro from Oxford, and
on Sunday used to dine at a cottager's, for which he paid,
and used to charge them not to provide anything extra for
him ; that was the stipulation. I have frequently defended
his character. In one of his visits the person had some
potatoes and herring for dinner, and he remarked after
some observations, that a herring relish'd potatoes. Then
some one raised a report that he should say that herring
and potatoes were good enough for any one. I have fre
quently had to set that matter right. ... A sturdy Baptist;
a shoemaker, used to attend Bouthrop Church, stating,
as a reason, he there heard the Gospel. I myself have
much to be thankful for on account of Mr. Keble's min
istrations." ....
In a postscript he adds, " Mr. Keble was outside the
church what he professed to be inside it."
In 1816, in the autumn, Keble was again in De
vonshire, and for part of his time a visitor at my
father's house, where I then was. I have no recol-

First Curacy. 65

lection of any particulars of the visit, and certainly
none of that which formed the subject in part of the
letter, from which I subjoin an extract. I do not
know that melancholy, or despondency of spirits,
was remarkable in him at any time, certainly not
in later life. It has been observed, I believe, that
melancholy is a common attendant on poetic genius,
and good reasons may be given why it should be so.
Keble, however, would have been the last at this
time to think himself entitled to it as a poet; he
treats it, it will be seen, as a moral fault, against
which it was his duty to struggle. I have no doubt
he did so, and it seemed to me through life cha
racteristic of him that he was always ready to ac
cept with a grateful heart and cheery disposition
the blessings vouchsafed him, and to be ready to
meet his trials with unfeigned resignation. His was
no boding spirit, nor did he make sorrows for him
self ; but no one can doubt that the statement in
this letter was a true account of what he really felt,
and a very interesting disclosure it is. It must be
added that the loss of one sister, and the suffering
state of another, weighed naturally upon him, and
the more because, as he was now residing at Fairford,
the absence of the one, and the trials of the other,
were presented to his mind more constantly : —
"Fairford, Oct. 9, 18 16.
" My dearest Friend,
" This is to greet your return to love, law, and London,
and to thank you for ten of the happiest days I have spent
F

66 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
for many years, yet those not half so happy as they ought
to have been. I do not know whether you find it, but I
hardly ever part from those that I love much and seldom
see, without a strong feeling of dissatisfaction with myself,
and feeling that I have by no means made the most of my
time, and that I have thrown away many precious oppor
tunities for some of the greatest enjoyments of life; and
this has been more especially the case since our domestic
distresses ; they have furnished me with too good an excuse
for indulging a certain humour calling itself melancholy,
but I am afraid, more truly entitled proud and fantastic,
which I find very often at hand, forbidding me to enjoy
the good things, and pursue the generous studies, which
a kind Providence throws so richly in my way ; then the
hours which I spend alone, owing to the distance of my
Cure from home, are many, and I have indulged myself in
a sad trick of filling them up with melancholy presages. I
have long known this to be very wrong, but I. never felt the
mischief of it so much as in the midst of your happy family
party. I felt as if I was saddening everybody, and thou
sands and thousands of resolutions did I make that I would
shake off this selfish remembrance of past and distant cala
mities, that I would enjoy myself wherever I went. I trust
I shall be able, though late, to accomplish these good re
solutions, but it will be a long and steady course of self-
discipline alone, grounded upon high motives, and assisted
by the prayers, advice, and example of my relations and
friends, which will enable me, by God's blessing, to do so.
And to whose prayers, advice, and example, shall I have
recourse so unreservedly as to yours. My dear fellow you
cannot think how I depend on you. I have never thought
of you in my blackest dreams, without consolation and
hope ; for you, as you know, my presages were never me
lancholy; and now I am endeavouring to brace myself up

First Curacy. 67

to a little more activity and cheerfulness, nothing upon
earth animates me more than the brightening view which
I take of your prospects. May they never be clouded by
calamity, they will not I am sure by wilful melancholy, as
mine have sometimes been. This is not mock-modesty, I
assure you ; it is the plain and simple truth, and I tell it
you because it relieves me to tell it, and because I shall
expect you to talk to me sharply, and rouse me from my
selfishness, whenever in my correspondence or conversation
you discover any sign of it. Certainly I have no hereditary
right to it ; all my relations, and chiefly she who has suffered
most, are disposed to make the best of things ; it is a mor
bid habit of my own contracting, and may, and shall, by
God's blessing, be cured. It must be so for the comfort of
all whom I ought to make happy, and still more for my
own happiness, for I feel more and more every day that I
cannot be quite happy alone, and certainly if I am a hypo
chondriac, I cannot be happy in company. And so ends
my sentimentality, and so, like the German Baron in Gold
smith, jumping over the stools,
" 'Sh' apprens d'etre vif.'"
I will add an extract from another letter to me,
dated from Fairford, in June, 18 17, in part on the
same subject, but interesting also as shewing his
judgment at that time on Jeremy Taylor and Milton.
He is speaking principally of the prose works of the
latter, but he was not a hearty lover of his poetry
even in later life. He never could separate the work
from the author, and to a great extent they are in
separable, but there is dinger of disparaging good
poetry on account of a supposed bad writer of it,

68 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
and even more perhaps of overvaluing an indifferent
work, from a liking and high estimation of the au
thor. I do not think Keble entirely escaped either
danger : — " Fairford,
' June 2,'i8i7>
" I shall be inexcusable if I do not get into a habit of
looking at the bright side of things, and shake off entirely
a certain perverse pleasure, in which perhaps you may not
conceive how any man should indulge himself, of turning
over in my thoughts a huge heap of blessings, to find one
or two real or fancied evils (which after all are sure to turn
out goods) buried among them.
"Next to the books which it is my duty to study, I
find none so useful in helping me to considerations of this
kind, as your and my friend and favourite Jeremy Taylor.
Though I have been long acquainted with him, I never
read his 'Holy Living and Dying' regularly till this spring,
and I cannot tell you the delight it has given me ; surely
that book is enough to convert any infidel, so gentle in
heart, and so high in mind, so fervent in zeal, and so
charitable in judgment, that I confess I do not know .any
other author, except perhaps Hooker, (whose subjects are
so different that they will hardly bear a comparison,) worthy
to be likened to him. Spenser I think comes nearest his
spirit in all respects. Milton is like him in richness and
depth, but in morality seems to me as far below him as
pride is below humility. I have been looking into some
of his prose works lately, of which, I am ashamed to say,
I was and am grossly ignorant ; but what will you think of
me, when I own to you, that I was hardly ever so shocked
and mortified in my life ; perhaps I shall make some
amends by my unbounded admiration of many passages;

First Curacy. 69

perhaps you will attribute it all to cavalierish and episco
palian prejudices, but certainly I shut the book with an
increased veneration for his abilities, and a very much
diminished confidence in his opinions, and affection for
his general character. But I must try to get rid of the
dislike, and lay his faults, if I can, upon times and cir
cumstances, and not upon himself, for it is quite uncom
fortable to think of such a man as from some places I was
inclined to do. At any rate it must be a most impressive
warning to men of genius, to read, as they often may I
think in his Tracts, one sentence written as if an angel
had held the pen, and the next, (as it seemed to me,)
more like Cobbett's style than any other I know of. One
thing rather pleases me, (as every body likes to be con
firmed in his old prejudices,) that the spirit of the loyal
party in those times should seem so much more candid
and charitable than that of the Puritans. Where will you
find in Taylor, or Hammond, or Chillingworth, or Saunder-
son, or even in Clarendon, such a gross, puerile, illiberal,
(not to say dishonest) invective, as Milton, evidently, ad
captandum vulgus, has put into his Iconoclastes against
K. Charles's Chaplains? How little did he dream that
Taylor's name would go down to posterity side by side
with his own, and the other three but a little below it.
" But enough of this declamation."

CHAPTER V.
TUTORSHIP AND SECOND RESIDENCE AT ORIEL. —
DEATH OF MRS. KEBLE. — l8l8 — 1 823.
KEBLE, having served as Public Examiner in the
Final Schools, had after a short interval under
taken the duty of Examiner in the Responsions.
This last wearied him a good deal, and when it was
performed, early in 1817, he had quitted Oxford, as
he thought, " no more to return officially." He quitted
it with delight
"I assure you," he wrote, "it is quite a relief to me to
have got rid of my Oxford employment : I got quite tired
of the Little-Go, and more so of that prince of absurdities
" Determining," — the very smell of the Schools sickened
me ; and I am now free to give myself up entirely to my
profession — my dear delightful profession — which I grow
fonder of every day ; and yet every day proves to me what
a burden it is, and how much remains to be done before I
can be at all fit to bear it. I need your prayers, and trust
I have them ; I do assure you you are never forgotten in
mine." Thus he wrote in March, 1817. Oxford, however,
retained a strong hold on his affections, and he was "*
not yet to have done with her.
"Though," says he, in Nov. 18 17, "I am so near to
Oxford, and have such regular calls there, in comparison

Tutorship at Oriel. 71
¦of yours, I can yet enter completely into your feelings
towards the place : every time I go there, I feel like a
miser looking over his old chests, and thinking how much
xnoney he has wasted in his youth ; the last time I was
there, in particular, I had the temptation very strong upon
me to stay and plunge myself into the walks, libraries, and
cathedral services for a year : but conscience prevailed,
and I came back to the Cotswolds."
It was to be expected, that if a vacancy should
occur in the Tutorships of Oriel, he would be called
on to fill it ; and although it would be an interruption
to the scheme of life which he had laid down for him
self, it was pretty clear to all who knew him, that
coming in the shape of a duty, which he owed to the
College as Fellow, he would scarcely consider him
self at liberty to decline it. At the same time, I may
observe, the obligations of a Fellow to his College
were not, at the period I speak of, so strictly regarded
as I hope and believe they now are. Fellowships
were often sought after, and obtained by very con
scientious men, merely as distinctions or as helps to
the pursuit of a profession elsewhere; and indeed,
unless a Fellow engaged himself in tuition, or spe
cially in some study, for which residence in the Uni
versity was desirable, there were not wanting reasons
enough in a great many instances, to apply to a Fel
low the common saying, that his room was more
desirable than his company ; there being a great de
mand for the former, and the residence of an unem-

7 2 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
ployed young Fellow being often of little advantage, -
or even detrimental to the discipline of the Under
graduates. It was with mixed feelings, however, and not with-.
out scruple, that Keble gave up even for a time his
home and his curacy; but he was the more easily,
reconciled to this, as it was arranged that his brother .
should take his place in both, and he also looked
forward to passing his vacations principally at Fair
ford, and at all times still taking part in the duties'
of East Leach. I find it stated in Mr. Moor's care
fully prepared memoir, that he was appointed Col
lege Tutor in Michaelmas Term, 1818, but I rather
think it was very late in 18 17 that he was applied to
to take the office; and that he was engaged in the
regular discharge of its duties in the very beginning
of 1818. On Jan. 29 of that year he writes, to me
thus, dating from Fairford, and the letter will shew
in part the feelings which actuated him in accepting
the office.
" I am afraid you think me quite an incorrigible fellow
in the matter of correspondence : but to confess the truth
I purposely kept from writing to you as long as I hung in.
doubt about migrating to Oriel; and by the time I had,
made up my mind, I was got into a bad habit of not
writing ; and I need not tell such a philosopher as you are,.
how hard it is to break bad habits. I would not ask your
advice, whether I should turn Tutor or no, because I knew
beforehand what it would be, and I was afraid, like Noel,

Tutorship at Oriel. 73
of being convinced by your sophistry. However, I might
just as well have done it, and then made a merit of yield
ing; as I have done to my friends here and at Oxford.
I thought at first it would be a very uncomfortable thing to
me to give up my Cure, and become an Academic again ;
but I get more and more reconciled to it every day. You
consider Tuition as a species of pastoral care, do you not?
otherwise it might seem questionable, whether a clergyman
ought to leave a cure of souls for it. And yet there are
some people at Oxford who seem to imagine that College
Tutors have nothing to do with the morale. If I thought
so, I would never undertake the office; but I feel some
difficulty in settling with myself beforehand, how far one
ought to carry one's interference with the general con
duct of a pupil ; probably it is impossible to draw a pre
cise line."
On March 5, 1 8 18, he dates from Oriel, and writes
thus : —
"Here I am, regularly re-matriculated, and to say the
truth, in many things as great a freshman as ever ; I would
not have beheved it on anything less than experience, how
much difference two or three years' absence from a place
can make in one's knowledge of its ways, and fitness to
live in it. But now it is no longer a wonder to me that
old men should find so much difficulty in accommodating
themselves to new fashions, or that they should have so
little sympathy with their juniors. In both these, as in
many other respects, I seem to have found myself much
older than I ought to be. But perhaps I shall find the
work slide more easily out of hand, when I am a little more
used to it ... .

74 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
" You would have been delighted to have walked round
the Meadow the other day, and heard old Dyson discussing;
sundry subjects for sermons, with which he means to edify
his flock. Now he has taken in earnest to Divinity, what
an admirable divine he will make. I, of course, having just
left my parish, envy every man who is just going to his;
exactly as when I go back to it again (which in process of
time I think not unlikely) I shall envy every College Tutor;
— just as we are now regretting the loss of Davison here,
having taken so little pains to improve his presence among
us. However, I shall not have done with East Leach, in
all probability, till October, and then Tom will take to it;
so that they will rather be gainers than losers on the whole
at our home by the change, for I shall be there half the
year, and Tom the whole of it.
"I live in fear and dread of some row about the first
clock or the second, or some other rebellion of ancient
standing, rising up to push me from my stool of office ; in
vengeance for the part I took (by your instigation, mind)'
in that 'Great Rebellion,' which, as Arnold says, secured
the liberty of the subject at Corpus. But hitherto they
have all behaved remarkably well. I am going to live in
Davison's rooms, just opposite Tucker and Cornish. I only
hope I shall not be practicalized to death.
" You must not wonder very much, if you see me come
up to London to buy furniture some time within the fort
night. Pray tell your hatter, when next you walk through
St. James'-street or the Haymarket (I forget which) to send-
me a new hat, moderately fashionable, immediately, as the
old shovel to which Patteson paid so much respect, was
quite spoiled by the snow last Sunday week; and I am
afraid my pupils will mock me, if they see me in a bad hat
The man has my measure."

Tutorship at Oriel. 75
Again, on April 30, 1818, he writes from Oriel : —
" I rejoiced to hear of your second pupil — who is he ?
I hope another Pennington : and so the long old dusky
desk is after all of some use. I used to look at it with an»
eye of commiseration, as I do sometimes at my Plutarch,
with this inward cogitation : ' Oh that there were any
chance of thy being of use to thy owner.'"
This refers to the present from Lord Grenville,
which I have spoken of before : and when he speaks
of his fears of death by the slow process of practi-
calization, those who are not familiar with Oxford
should be told, that the front of Corpus faces the
side of Oriel in which his windows were, the street
between being so narrow that he was within point
blank range of a pea-shooter or any other equally
manly arm of offence from the young Tutors of
Corpus. "Well here I am settled after a manner in Oriel, and
very comfortable I find it — not yet quite so comfortable as
my home and curacy: that was not to be expected; but
I take to the work, and to the solitude, far more kindly
than I expected I should. We have a remarkably good
gentlemanly set, especially of Gentlemen-Commoners. None
of them, except perhaps one or two, are great readers, but
they nearly all leam their lectures, and most of them are
very well behaved Two of the best come to me as 'pe
culiar grinder' (I must have a little slang, though Davison's
face should glare on me from the opposite pannel), they are
Baring, one of the banker's sons, and Fremantle, a son of
the Admiral, delightful fellows both; and what does me

76 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
more good than anything, we get up and set to work at
six in the morning ; so that I can get everything done and
get out for exercise at one o'clock."
• I have not stinted myself in the extracts from these
letters, because I am anxious above all things to pre
sent a true and minute picture of Keble in every
principal stage of his life ; his Tutorship at Oriel was
one of these, and his letters are artless and uncon
scious paintings of himself by himself. I have not
therefore withdrawn even so trifling a matter as his
playful allusion to what he calls the " Great Rebel
lion," an almost incredibly childish dispute which
we of the first class at Corpus had had with our
Tutor respecting the time at which we were to
commence and end our lecture. Corpus hours were
regulated by the Christ Church clocks, of which
there were two, the one always five minutes before
the other; and I think we earnestly contended and,
thought that we ought to begin by the later, and end
by the earlier, thus effecting a saving of ten minutes
in the hour. It is amusing now to think of Keble
and Arnold engaged in this conflict ; we were indeed,
merely great boys in heart, though nearly all of us
about soon to win our places in the Schools as First
Class men. But though Arnold was pleased to de
clare that we had secured the liberty of the subject,
the love of historic truth compels me to admit, that
our excellent Tutor; who preserved his good humour1

Tutorship at Oriel. jy
through the whole, as indeed did the rebels also,
obtained the substantial victory, enforced the stand
ard imperial measure for the hour, and extracted
from us a good sixty minutes' attendance. I have no
doubt, however, that in the commencement of his
Tutorship, Keble — young, modest, and sensitive as
he was, and almost a stranger in his College — really
felt some of the alarm which he speaks of. But this
must have soon passed off: he never repented of
the time which he spent as Tutor at Oriel ; he felt,
no doubt, that though for the time he was diverted
from the main plan of his life, and to a certain extent
lost what he valued so dearly, the full care of his
curacies and the society of home, he was yet dis
charging a duty which he owed to his College ; and
by the view he wisely took of the nature of that
duty, as indicated in these extracts, the diversion,
temporary only, was never a wide one.
He was cast too on happy times for the performance
of it ; Oriel then stood incontestably at the head of
the University ; in spite of some constitutional infir
mities, Dr. Copleston was an admirable Head, accurate
in his scholarship, correct in his taste, studious in the
acquisition of knowledge, impartial in his discipline,
and, though last hardly least, liberal in his hospitality.
He was, too, at this time in full vigour and activity
of mind and spirits, in the commencement of his
career as Provost, and entering heartily into all its
duties. The rigid impartiality and good sense with

78 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
which the elections to Fellowships were conducted,
had succeeded in forming a very remarkable body
in the Common -Room. No undue weight in the
, competition was given to the place which had been
acquired in the Class-paper, a matter on which good
fortune in many ways has, too often and yet un
avoidably, great influence ; but the Electors steadily
aimed at finding out the candidate in whom appeared
the happiest combination of scholarship, intellect, and
character, and the whole Examination was conducted
with this object in view.
Tutors eminent for ability and acquirements were
a natural consequence of all this ; and whatever may
be said in disparagement of the wisdom of parents in
regard to the education of their children, I believe no
attraction to a College is found so invariably strong
as a staff of eminent Tutors. All these circumstances
made Oriel at this time the favourite College, espe
cially, perhaps, for those who really desired to pursue
the studies of the University steadily. The applicants
for admission were far beyond the vacancies, so that
a selection might be made from among them.
It must not be supposed that when Keble speaks
of having everything done, and his going out for ex
ercise at one o'clock, his labours for the day were
over so early ; he was diligent in preparing his lec
tures, and complains in some of his letters that he
had no time for his own private reading. He at
tached himself affectionately to his pupils, and many

Tutorship at Oriel. 79
of them attached themselves with equal warmth to
him. His manner with them at lecture was perfectly
simple and unpretending ; if he was ignorant and un
able to answer a question or explain a difficulty, there
was no attempt at concealment ; nor could any pupil
fail to see that his well-doing was at least as great a
cause of happiness to his Tutor as to himself. Mis
behaviour or idleness, it was obvious, gave him sincere
pain. Intimacies, of course, did not always grow up
from the intercourse of the pupil room, or they might
afterwards cease from separation and other causes \
but some lifelong friendships were so made ; one in
especial may be mentioned in a word even here.
Baring, of whom he speaks, (the second Lord Ash-
burton,) introduced Sir William Heathcote to him,
of whom, in a letter to me in 182 1, he speaks as
" one of his greatest comforts at Oxford." Heath
cote read with him at extra hours (as Baring and
Fremantle, the present Sir Thomas, had done), and
the bond which united them was never loosened.
One fruit, as is well known, was his becoming in
after life the Vicar of Hursley, a circumstance which,
in more ways than are at once apparent, influenced
and coloured the remainder of his days.
I had married later in the same year in which he
became Tutor, and was very soon plunged into the
anxieties of a sick house and the - early struggles
of a difficult profession. Our personal intercourse,
therefore, was very much, interrupted, but our inti-

80 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
mate correspondence continued. Ho had been of
course privy to my engagement, and watched its
progress with affectionate interest; now my serious
anxieties caused his letters to be more frequent, and
to overflow not only with affectionate sympathy, but
with the most wholesome consolations. I shall be
excused for making this short mention of my own
affairs in order to introduce one or two of his letters
on these subjects during this period of our lives.
The manner in which he speaks of me must, of course,
be set down to the warmth of his feelings. Once for
all I may say this, and I do so most unfeignedly;
I can neither omit such passages where they occur,
nor alter them ; they are interwoven with the con
text, and seem to me necessary not more to the
accuracy of the extracts than of the portrait I seek
to give of the writer. He dates from Oriel on De
cember 6, 1818 : —
" My dearest Friend,
" Edward gave me an account the other day, which dis
tressed me a good deal, of your Mary's health. I trust
Dyson's more favourable report will be confirmed; com
fortable man that he is, he always brings cheerfulness with
him. These occasional illnesses were what we reckoned
on, and therefore we must not be alarmed unreasonably
when they do occur. I know, however, that come what
will, you and she are provided with strength and comfort
beyond what I can imagine, Only bear up, and you will
soon, very soon, have to rejoice. I confess I am rather

Tutorship at Oriel. 8 1
glad that you have so much business upon your hands, as
it will force you to keep up your spirits and take care of
yourself, a most essential duty of a good nurse. Do not
trouble yourself about writing to me, except you are quite
in the humour for it. I shall hear of you many ways.
" After all, these anxieties are the greatest of mercies ;
they are, I verily beheve, the only effectual means to wean
us from our idols. We may make good resolutions, and do
much towards keeping them, but there is something so
subtle and insinuating in earthly happiness (and the more
so in proportion to its innocence and purity), that one
such pang, or misgiving, as leaves a lasting impression of its
insecurity, will do more towards lifting our hearts where they
ought to be, than all that most of us could, or at least would,
do for ourselves. At least, from my own experience, I can
truly say that I know I ought to be (I am afraid I am not)
more thankful to my Lord and Master for His fatherly
chastisements, than for all the comforts and indulgences
He has aflorded me. My dear Coleridge, do not imagine
because I write in this strain that I have heard any very
discouraging reports ; but I have found so much comfort in
some late instances in having thoroughly made up my mind
to the worst beforehand, that I cannot help recommending
it to my friends. But indeed I trust that your good and
happy union will yet continue many, many years. It is
happy for you that I have it not in my power to ensure
it ; for it would certainly be done, whether for the better or
the worse ; but I can pray for it, and that I will with my
best endeavours, and so will they, who may better hope to
be heard, all your good and kind friends, and the many
who are indebted to you beyond what wealth could repay.
I have particularly begged that Elizabeth would remember
you both. G

82 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
" My dear friend, may God bless you for Christ's sake,
and may I soon see you again all well and happy. I shall
write soon I hope something better than this scrawl, which
I am almost afraid to send, but you know my meaning.
Ever, ever yours, J. K."
It will be well to conclude this personal episode
without interruption. I was mercifully spared the
great evil, which I seemed to have reason to fear,.
when he wrote the last letter; and in July, 1819,
became a father, and some months of great happiness
followed ; but in April, 1820, we were deprived of our
child. Many who have suffered the same affliction,.
the loss of their first and only child, will know how
bitterly it wounds young parents, and they will best
appreciate the letter which he wrote to me on that
occasion, and will thank me, I believe, for inserting
it here. "Oriel College,
April 26, 1820.
" My dearest Friend,
" It is presumption in me, I know, to pretend to comfort
you on so sad an occasion as this, but I must tell you truly
that my heart bleeds at the thought of your loss, though I
know it is absolutely impossible for me to sympathize with
you under it ; but you have better comforters who do, not
only James Coleridge and dear John Patteson, but a more
effectual one than either, even Him who 'when He saw
a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, had
compassion on her.' He is even now touched with a feel-

Tutorship at Oriel. 83

ing of the sorrow of heart which has fallen upon you and
your dear wife, whom God bless, confirm, and comfort for
His sake. My dear friends, think as little as you can of
yourselves, but think of the blessed infant whom you pre
sented so few days ago before Christ in His earthly temple ;
think of her being even now admitted to serve Him in His
heavenly temple day and night, and knowing and praising
Him infinitely better than the greatest saint on earth can
do ; and though it is nothing in comparison of eternity, yet
it is blessing enough to assuage your grief, which, however
good and Christian, must confess itself to be but earthly,
when you consider that your darling is put into her Saviour's
arms so many years before the time that most of His ser
vants are admitted there, quite safe, quite good, quite happy,
and, I dare to say it, overflowing with love for you beyond
what all your kindness and tenderness could have made
her comprehend in the longest life that parents and children
can expect to enjoy together here. And although David
said his child could not return to him, yet since we are
taught that there is a sympathy between Paradise and Earth,
at least between the saints in one and the saints in the
other, what if Christian parents, by holy Hving, should be
supposed to have this comfort among others, that their lost
children still watch over them, or in some way or other
know of their well-doing? The thought is not, I am per
suaded, unscriptural, but thank God you have no need of
it. ' For if we beheve that Jesus died and rose again,.
even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring,
with Him.' You need not look farther for comfort than
those words. May He in whom alone we can know com
fort, make them and all other consolations which His Pro
vidence has in store for you, so truly comfortable to you,
that you shall be able to look backward even to this sad

84 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
time with humble thankfulness to Him for helping you to
suffer as Christians ; so prays from the bottom of his heart,
" Your affectionate friend,
" J. Keble.
"If it will be any comfort to you at all for me to come
up for a day or two I shall be thankful, and can do it with
out inconvenience.
" Tell dear Patteson I longed to write to him, but was
afraid of distressing him, not knowing till I came back here
how graciously he is upholden. God bless him and you,
through our Lord Jesus Christ."
The message in the postscript to my dear friend
John Patteson, between whom and Keble a friendship
had sprung up, had reference to the far heavier af
fliction, which but a little before had befallen him,
in the loss of his wife.
To return from this personal digression, which has
carried me out of the order of events. He was much
disturbed in the summer of 1.819 in. the comfortable
discharge of his duties as Tutor, by the alarming ill
ness of his brother, on whom, as I have said, he had
reckoned to supply his place in the family circle and
in his parish. Never were two brothers more attached
to each other. Of the younger, now the only sur
vivor of that generation, I do not feel at liberty to
say more than that from his great modesty and re-
tiringness, and from his having been over-shadowed, .
as it were, by his brother's great reputation, the world
knows much less of him than in justice it ought to

Tutorship at Oriel. 85
have done. In May, 18 19, a severe and neglected
cold appeared to have settled on his lungs. Dr.
Bourne, of Oxford, who was the family physician,
was not very encouraging, and the symptoms did not
for some time abate under treatment. Writing to
Dyson about him, Keble mentions that there had
been a negotiation on foot for his becoming one of
the Tutors of Corpus, which of course was interrupted
by this illness. He says, —
" I was afraid this might have annoyed him and pressed
on his spirits, but I am glad to find it does not He is
perfectly calm and placid, wrapped up in the same thoughts
which I verily believe have long taken up his whole mind,
for I know he does not expect to recover. I know you
will give us your prayers, my dear fellow."
It was an addition to Keble's personal trial that he
could only see his brother from week to week, as he
went down to take his duty for him. But he ahd
the family were mercifully spared the great affliction
of losing him. In June he began to mend, and the
Long Vacation coming on, Keble was able to be with
him, and regularly supply his place in his church.
All this he communicated of course to me, and I
must find room for his grateful and wise reflections
on the event Writing on June 15, 18 19, from Oriel,
he says, —
" His recovery, amendment I should say (for though his
cough is much abated and all the symptoms far milder, the

86 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
complaint does not seem yet entirely removed), came upon
me, and I believe upon most of our family, almost like
a resurrection. Without saying so to one another, I fancy
we had almost all of us made up our minds to the parting ;
ahd now how to be thankful enough for so great a mercy
as his being spared to us I know not. The near prospect
of so great a loss (humanly speaking) brought home to me
a lesson which I have before now preached to you, and
shewed me how little used I was to practise it myself—
I mean the duty of preparing oneself, by constant medita
tion, for all the worst privations that can befall one in this
world. My dear friend, I was and am quite ashamed to
find how utterly wanting I was at heart in what I have
been so long teaching others, and under special engage
ments to practise myself. However, the example of all
at home, and particularly that of Tom himself, who took.
everything with the most perfect calmness, did me a good
deal of good, and I wish and pray every day that all this
may not be lost upon me. It certainly is, when we con
sider it calmly, and in any other case but our own, — it cer
tainly is no more than plain reason and common sense for
any one, who believes in our gracious Master and His pro
mises, to throw his whole care, both for himself and those
dearest to him, wholly and entirely upon Him. The way
of putting the thought which seemed to relieve me most
when my fears were at worst, and I was most tempted to
set my heart upon Tom's recovery, was this : — If I were
thoroughly sure of his being restored to health after a cer
tain time, I should be most content and thankful ; now in
fact I am morally sure of his being restored to infinitely
more than earthly health, though I do not exactly know
the time. I dwelt upon this thought, and it seemed so
exactly what I wanted, that I have just put it down for the

Tutorship at Oriel. 87
chance of its suggesting something to you ; though I well
know, my dear friend, that your griefs are beyond the skill
of any worldly comforter, yet I will say to you, ' Be of
good comfort ;' for I feel that I have a right to do it. The
greatness of your affliction, borne as you are endeavouring
to bear it is a sure pledge and proof that you are under
the immediate hand of Him into whose hands it is good
to fall because His mercies are great You may apply to
yourself, or if you are afraid of that, you may at least apply
to the dear sufferer for whom you are so anxious, all those
great and glorious promises which the Scripture holds out
to martyrs and confessors, and to them whose souls are in
the immediate and special keeping of the Redeemer. What
would one not give to be quite sure of this ? and I verily
believe there is nothing which comes so near to assuring
us of it in this life as very great affliction borne Christianly
for His sake. When one has such a source of comfort as
this, it is superfluous, at least it would be but for our frailty,
to talk of earthly friends ; but as it is, the prayers and good
wishes of so many servants of God as I firmly believe inter
cede for you and your's continually, that this rod may
either be speedily removed, or felt as what it is doubtless
meant to be, a blessing ; here is another source of consola
tion which may now and then, I trust, innocently and effec
tually be used to repress that feehng of desolation which, in
spite of piety and Christian knowledge, will sometimes, I
know too well, intrude itself. But you have your comforts
in yourself, and I am not sure whether I have said any
thing to the purpose. Would that my prayers for you
could make up for the deficiency in what I say and write
to you."In July it was still doubtful whether the Corpus

88 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
scheme for his brother could now be carried into
effect, but they were in hopes it might, as indeed it
was ; and after discussing this, he ends a letter to me,
of July 7, 1 8 19, thus characteristically: —
"As for myself, worthy Sir, I get on much as I used to
do, always having a great load of things to do, and hardly
ever finishing any thing. Tom's plans of tuition have set
us upon reading together rather more than we used to do,
which I find a great comfort and, I believe, advantage ;-
one thing is that, in reading with another, one cannot stand
so long poring over a passage, doubting whether you under
stand it or no : or perhaps but half thinking of it, a mode
of wasting time of which I profess myself very guilty. We
are reading over the Ethics together, and I propose going
on afterwards to compare the Stagyrite with Plato, Butler,
Paley, Smith, and others who have written more or less
systematically on the subject. I wish also to be not un
mindful of your recommendation to acquaint myself better
with Greek criticism, but hardly know how to set about it.
I am reading Sophocles again, and marking everything that
strikes me, but I do not feel any improvement. I am afraid
I shall always be oqboSpa Teircoi/ in these matters. Luckily
we have got one man in Oriel that cries ' whew' at a false
quantity, i. e. Tyler. I am babbling on, and not telling you
what I daresay you have hardly heard yet, that George
Cornish was married on Saturday. Tucker and I took him
as far as Lichfield on his way into Derbyshire, in doing
which we went over our old Warwickshire tour ; and I was
very melancholy at the thought of what an ass I then made
of myself ; so to keep up my spirits I made myself twice as
great an ass. All here, Tom especially, desire most loving
congratulations. Ever most affectionately yours, J. K."

Tutorship at Oriel. 89

His letters remind me that in 18 19 I was engaged
in the prosecution of some of those libels, which, by
a stimulating mixture of profaneness and sedition
with some humour and ability, obtained great circu
lation at that period, and I must have consulted him
as to topics for the opening which I expected to
devolve on me ; the trials were to be at the Quarter
Sessions : a part of his advice is so full of good sense
and so characteristic, that I insert it here : he dates
from Fairford, Oct. 12, 18 19: —
" Of one thing, were I in your place, I should be par
ticularly careful, i. e. how I indulged myself too far in pane
gyrics on things as they are ; at least I feel that were I on
a jury, I should be much more likely to be influenced by
the representations of a man who seemed to see and de
plore the too palpable occasion lent by the conduct of too
many Christians and loyalists to such libels as these, than
I should by the flaming panegyrics which many on the
right side (e.g. the ' Courier,' and sometimes the 'British
Critic') are continually trumpeting forth. To say the truth,
though in a pohtical hght these agitators are perhaps as
bad as anything can well be, I do not think them half
so dangerous enemies to religion, i. e. to the souls of men,
as wicked, worldly-minded Christians are."
He passed his Christmas Vacation, that of 1819
— 1820, as usual at Fairford, and I have seen many
letters which passed between him and the family of
the Curate of Fladbury, Mr. Pruen, with whom he
had become intimate in the course of his visits to his

90 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Godfather the Rector. These shew with what hearti
ness he joined in the social meetings of the season,
kept up as it should seem very genially in the neigh
bourhood. As a younger man, and before he was in
Holy Orders, no one enjoyed a dance more than he ;
nor did he think it now at all unbecoming to take
his part in those which in truth were of the simplest
kind, and scarcely more than family reunions. His
religipn, then and to the end, was cheerful, as was
his natural temperament; and it may be collected
from his letters at this period of his life what a fa
vourite he was with young and old, how much his
visits were courted, and his friendship valued. I men
tion the Pruen family as an instance ; it consisted of
the father and mother, a governess as I collect, and
a numerous family, principally girls of different ages,
but all apparently at the time I speak of in the
school-room, or, as to one or two, just issuing from
it. Many letters passed between him and them, full
of merriment and fun, queer riddles, familiar poetry,
with sometimes graver matters insinuated ; I do not
publish them, and yet they exhibit in a lively way
that side of his character, well known indeed to those
who were intimate with him, but of which those who
only knew him at a distance, or by his writings, or
later in life, can scarcely be aware. Somehow, as
life advanced on both sides, and graver interests
absorbed him, the intercourse between him and the
members of this family appears to have ceased, but

Tutorship at Oriel. 91

not the kindly feeling. It was when he was at Bourne
mouth, in the last illness of himself and Mrs. Keble,
that one of his former young friends, Margaret Pruen,
•who had married and I believe become a widow,
wrote to him from Torquay; I do not know the
subject of her letter, it was probably to inquire
about his health, and to remind him of old times
and old feelings; I cannot forbear to print the an
swer which he wrote : the writing is in a very feeble
hand, a sad contrast to the firm and distinct cha
racter of the letters from which I have hitherto been
quoting : it may seem a sad, yet it is a very soothing
close to the correspondence : — " Bournemouth,Jan. 17, 1866.
"My dear Margaret,
" For why should I not speak as in the old times which
you so kindly remember? you put me to shame by your
kind, long letter, long, I mean, in comparison of what I can
write ; and by your affectionate remembrance of one who
has somehow been drawn so far away from you all. It is
too good of you, but to me refreshing, to have such a report
of your dear sister and the rest who are left you. I thank
you for it ; and all of you, in sight and out of sight, I thank,
for your constant kindness with all my heart, and trust to
be remembered by you at this time, especially then when we
all wish most to be remembered. Fpr my dear wife's long
trial of illness seems now to be approaching its end; we came
here in October, being obhged to go somewhere, and she
feeling herself unequal to the journey further west, and she
certainly gains no strength : but thanks be to God, as far
as health allows, she is bright and cheerful as ever, and

92 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
takes all her old interest in things. I send her kind love,
with my own. I cannot write more at present ; except that
I am very sorry to hear of Henry's painful complaint, and
not a little ashamed to think of my Godson, and how I have
neglected him all this time. I yet hope we may have some
communication, although my chance of it, humanly speak
ing, is fast lessening : however, assure him of my constant
remembrance of him. What you say of your dear Annie's
gentleness, and loving simple ways, brings her back to me.
as I could wish, and so does the place about Fladbury
churchyard. " God grant us all, how unworthy soever some of us may
now feel ourselves, a happy meeting in the end !
" I am always, my dear friend,
"Affectionately yours,
"J. Keble."
" To Mrs. Billamore,
"6, Scarborough-terrace, Torquay.
It was at the Oxford Commemoration of 1820
that Southey revisited the University; he had at
that time effectively overcome the prejudices which
political differences, and the clever hostility, miscalled
criticism, of the "Edinburgh Review," and it must
be confessed some of his own peculiarities, had raised
against his literary reputation. His merits as a poet,
historian, and essayist, were now fairly appreciated, '
and the many, who approached him at all nearly,
were enthusiastic in the admiration of the purity of
his character, and the generous geniality of his na
ture. I think I have mentioned elsewhere that I had
been the means of making him known as a writer.

Tutorship at Oriel. 93
to Keble in the early days of our friendship. I had
now the good fortune of being able to make them
personally known to each other ; Southey was much
pleased with Keble : writing to me a few days after
upon another matter which interested us all three very
deeply, he says shortly : " All that Keble says upon
the subject is full of kindness and right feeling, and
would make me think more highly of the writer than
I did before, if that had been easy." Keble wrote of
him, to me and to Dyson, at greater length ; his re
marks in both are striking, and I will subjoin them
here : —
"My dear John Coleridge,
" Many thanks to you for this new and great kindness of
making me acquainted with Southey : for I owe it entirely
to you. He is indeed a noble and delightful character,
and I hope to be the better all my Hfe for what I have
seen of him and heard from him. Luckily for me (though
I am afraid rather irksomely for him) he has hardly any ac
quaintance resident in Oxford, having completely out-lived
all his old contemporaries, so that I had a good deal of
him to myself: and that was indeed delightful. Whatever
his notions may have been, and however incautiously he may
have sometimes expressed himself, I am satisfied his notions
are now as nearly correct, meaning by 'correct,' agree
able to my own, both in religion and politics, as almost
any of theirs whom one most loves and trusts in. ¦ The
only thing which seems to me wrong in them, is a disposi-
. tion which I sometimes fancy I observe in him, and which
is common to him with three-fourths of the orthodox men
in the kingdom, to confound the two together : I mean, to

Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.

deal politically with the Church and religion. His recep^-
tion in the Theatre was most flattering : not one of all the
party, except Lord Hill, received anything like the same
share of applause. In the evening he had an invitation
from the College to dine in Balliol Hall. Reginald Heber,
Miller, and Milman' were there, and Noel Ellison was de
lightful : I have never seen four such men together in my
life before. Copleston wanted him to dine with him on
Thursday, but he was obliged to leave us, to my sorrow,
and left a most excellent name behind him, for his kind
and unassuming manners, with every one who had been in
his company for five minutes."
Writing to Dyson, he says : —
"I had the great delight this last Commemoration of
being introduced to the two public characters, whom of all
others I should rather wish to know, Southey and Reginald
Heber. I liked both exceedingly, but Heber decidedly
best: he is so remarkably unaffected in his manner; I
watched him all the time they were performing ' Palestine'
in the Theatre, and he did not attitudinize in the least, nor
seem conscious of being the chief character in the room;
and then his style of conversation is so particularly kind
and hearty. Southey has a good deal of the same excel
lencies; but he gives you the idea of a man forbearing to
display himself, Heber of one into whose head no such
thing ever entered. Nevertheless Southey quite made good
his ground in my favour, more completely a good deal than
I had expected. He is now an orthodox man, and the
faults of his views in ecclesiastical matters are, as far as
I could judge from what he said, the faults into which such
persons are most apt to fall — making religion too much
a matter of politics — and the like."

Tutorship at Oriel. 95
Personal comparisons are too often made in igno
rance or forgetfulness of the differing circumstances
under which individuals present themselves for con
sideration, and I cannot but think that for some such
reasons my dear friend, in this, did a little injustice
to Robert Southey. Heber was then comparatively
a young man, quite at home in Oxford, an Oxonian of
the day, in a position perfectly secure, in a place where
he was most justly and universally popular, in the scene
of all his successes and triumphs, surrounded by the
friends of his own day — the only novel circumstance of
the hour was, that he was present when his own poem
was performed as an Oratorio, in the place where he
but a few years before had recited it as a Prize : it
would be undervaluing so good and great a man to
think there was anything intoxicating in all this, any
thing to disturb the calmness of a really modest man.
Southey was a much older man, an Oxonian of a day
long past, who had had to win his position in the
world, fighting his way step by step against opposi
tion fair and unfair, through poverty and hardship,
in spite of ridicule, obloquy, slander, and neglect —
slowly he. had gained a great one : and where was he
when Keble met him? at Oxford, which had been
no scene of success or credit to him as a student,
which he had left without a degree in youth, where
he found no contemporary friend, where he was now
for the first time returning in mature age, to receive
aU the honour it could bestow — at the suggestion it

96 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
should seem of the very party, which had never
cheered him in his struggles, nor been over for
ward to greet him in his success. Did not these
circumstances tend to provoke somewhat of self-
assertion ? did they not moreover irresistibly sug
gest recollections and thoughts calculated to turn
his thoughts inwards, and to raise somewhat dis
turbing feelings ? When I asked myself this question,
I naturally turned to his letters ; there will be found
in the fifth volume of his son's Memoirs of him, two
letters, one a playful account of the whole visit written
to his three daughters, the other, which follows imme
diately, to Neville White ; they are at pages 38 and 41.
There will be seen, by the last, a little of what was
passing in his mind at the time. I know that the first,
perhaps in general the abiding and not unnatural, im
pression as to Southey was and is, that he was a vain
man ; like the great Romatn Orator and Philosopher,
he was a man of great ability, and remarkable in
dustry, and he knew it ; he knew what he could have
done, if he had been blessed with more independents
means, and he knew the value of what he had ac
tually done ; and it is neither wonderful nor unpardon
able, if such a man, when critics and wits have been
for years sneering at him, and thwarting his efforts,
should acquire somewhat of a habit of thinking and
saying what, as coming from himself, seem great
things of those efforts and their results. One thing
let me observe, a more generous soul never existed ;

Tutorship at Oriel. 97

generous of his money when he had it, generous
always of his time which was to him money, yet
who ever heard him breathe a syllable of self-
applause on this ?
I must add the short passage, which I spoke of, in
the letter to Neville White, and hope to be forgiven
for a digression, extorted from me by a sense of
justice, not less than by sincere gratitude for much
and most valuable kindness shewn to myself when
I needed it much
" My visit to Oxford brought with it feelings of the most
opposite kind. After the exhibition in the Theatre, and the
collation in Brasenose Hall given by the Vice-Chancellor,
I went alone into Christ Church walks, where I had not
been for six and twenty years. Of the friends with whom
I used to walk there, many (and among them some of the
dearest) were in their graves. I was then inexperienced,
headstrong, and as full of errors as of youth and hope and
ardour. Through the mercy of God, I have retained the
whole better part of my nature, and as for the lapse of
years, that can never be a mournful consideration to one
who hopes to be ready for a better world, whenever his
hour may come. God bless you. R. S."
Through life a tour in the country was among
Keble's most pleasurable indulgences, and his posi
tion at Oriel now making him more at ease in his
circumstances, he seems usually to have devoted
a part of the Long Vacation to a ramble, often alone,
and often making a circuit among his old Oxford in
timates retired into the country. Thus I find him in
H

98 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Worcestershire, and at Lichfield in 1 8 19, in the sum
mer. My manuscript copy of the exquisite stanzas
"on a monument in Lichfield Cathedral" is dated
July 22, 1819. No one who has read them can
doubt that they were suggested by a sight of the
monument, and probably commenced on the spot.
My copy I may say has but a few verbal differ
ences from the copy which is printed in "Church
Poetry," p. 301, but it wants one stanza, so necessary
almost to the completeness of the Poem, that I sup
pose I must have omitted it through carelessness.
In return, mine has four stanzas at the close, sepa
rated by a few crosses, and with a very slight varia
tion in the metre; these are addressed to himself.
The variation is produced by lengthening the fourth
line of each stanza, and is not a very happy one ; and
judgment was shewn in printing the poem without
them ; at the same time, they are characteristic of the
man, and represent, I have no doubt accurately, the
humble application to himself, which he would make
on such an object before him, and such a train of
thought as he had indulged in. It was no less cha
racteristic to keep from the public this application, "„
In September, 1820, he made a longer tour, and
visited Ellison at his living of Whalton in North
umberland, and Davison at his of Washington in the
county of Durham; these places he made centres
for riding excursions to the objects of interest in the
neighbourhood, among them not forgetting Stan-

Tutorship at Oriel. 99
hope, the residence for many years of Bishop Butler.
Then coming south, he visited Dyson at Nunburn-
holme. His journey homeward he shall tell himself,
as he described it in a letter to Dyson from Fair
ford, of September n, 1820.
"Perhaps you will like to have some account of my
journey. I got safe home — that you know from the date
of this — and you know from Penrose that I staid at Fled-
borough by the way — but you do not know that I waited
at Hayton half an hour for the Coach ; you do not know
that I travelled to York holding a drunken sailor by the
button, lest he should tumble off; and you cannot possibly
have the least idea of my delight, when I found myself in
the Minster at sunset that most gorgeous evening; no,
your low mind, debased by immoderate indulgence in Pock
lington biscuits and the vulgar smell of sweet-peas, cannot
enter into pleasures of so high a kind In good earn
est I reckoned myself particularly fortunate in my view
of the Minster: I spent two or three hours there, and
could hardly find anything to damp my enjoyment My
coffee house companion was Sir Thomas Bernard's ' Com
forts of Old Age,' a very proper book for persons of a cer
tain time of life, and very useful to me ; as, though there
were abundance of persons in the room, none of them
seemed disposed to take much notice of me, and I was too
shy (you know my usual amiable diffidence) to make the
first advances. The night journey was an interchange of
sleeping and grumbling, with a little sickliness now and
then, by way of variety, on the part of some of my fellow-
travelleresses. So you may believe that I was not sorry
when it was light, and I could see the pleasant country
to the north of Doncaster, and the town of Doncaster

100 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
itself, at the elegance of which I was quite surprised. But
it was still pleasanter to enter upon the rich vale of Trent •
and pleasantest of all to discern Penrose's face, half-grin
ning, half-business-like, waiting for me in a gig, at the
place and time appointed. Right glad was I to find my
self snug under another parsonage roof, and to become
acquainted with his family, who seem as well suited to
their situation, and it to them, as any group I ever beheld.
I cannot conceive how Arnold could have the heart to
disturb such a family party by taking one away. I find
by a letter which I received yesterday from Penrose, that
he has been paying you a flying visit. For this I take
some credit to myself, having taken some pains to assure
him how glad you would be to have him there. He main
tains that yours is a more retired place than Fledborough:
but this cannot be, because you know there is a road
through Nunburnholme to Warter ; whereas you have heard
of the finger-post 'to Fledborough and no farther.' Not
but that I contrived to get farther; for under Penrose^
able steerage I made my way to Lincoln, criticised the
in-, and admired the out-side of the Cathedral as busily
as I could for two hours. I really think, on the whole
I prefer the latter to that at York ; but the inside architec
ture will not bear a comparison ; if indeed one can judge
fairly of it, now it is so disfigured by yellow wash, and plain
glass where painted was evidently intended. I went up to
the top of the lantern tower, and was particularly pleased
with the- view of the city, with its profusion of ruins scat
tered about it. I like the country for a reason more sen
timental than picturesque — namely, that I think it like my
own. Having enjoyed myself for exactly a week, I set out
on the Friday morning by the mail for London, and got
into the Great City just in time to mount a Stroud coach,

Tutorship at Oriel. 101
which set me down at papa's door about six in the after
noon of Saturday."
In July, 1822, he made a tour of visits, which took
in the Millers at Bockleton in Worcestershire, and his
old friend, a former curate of Fairford, Mr. Richards,
then residing in the neighbourhood of Aberystwith.
Writing to Cornish from Malvern, on July 8, which
he said he had reached, being on a voyage of dis
covery, i.e. searching out the nearest way from Fair
ford to Bockleton, he continues thus : —
" Malvern,
July 8, 1822.
" I wish you had been with me on the hill just now, and
then I should not have gone to sleep in a sort of cave,
which they have cut out, looking all over Herefordshire,
with a telescope in my hand, readmg Spenser. Do you
know the ' Shepherd's Calendar?' I think you did not use to
know it, for you did not use to quote it which you cer
tainly would What a delightful feel it is to sit under the
shelter of one of the rocks here, and hear the wind sweep
ing with that peculiar kind of strong moaning sigh, which
it practises on the bent grass. I daresay you have marked
it 100 times; but I was never so much struck with it as
this evening. And what an air of sanctity the church gives
to the place. I pick out spots (luckily the trees and houses
are so grouped that there are a good many) where one
quite loses every thing smart and townish, and then I quite
enjoy it ; more I think now than when I was here before.
I was not alone, but with Rickards, who was bent on visit
ing rather than scenery, and in love besides; and when

102 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
a man is in love, you know he is a terrible touring com
panion to all the world, but one."
To G. J. C.
I insert this extract not merely for the amusing con
trast which it presents between the Malvern of 1822,
and the Malvern of 1867, but for the passage about
the bent grass, which is reproduced, in the beautiful
verses on the Twentieth Sunday after Trinity, which
Robertson of Brighton liked the best of all in "The
Christian Year " : —
" . . . . The fitful sweep
Of winds across the steep,
Through wither'd bents — romantic note and clear,
Meet for a hermit's ear."
In these years there is no doubt that he was
gradually composing the work, and these solitary
tours (for he seems most often to have wandered alone,
leaving his brother to take his place at home) were
certainly favourable to such occupation. The dates
of such poems of " The Christian Year" as I have in
my manuscript books, are in 18 19, and in 1822.
In 1 82 1 Keble again accepted the office of Ex
amining Master, and continued to serve until the
Easter of 1823 inclusive; but he was sighing for
a return to his home and curacy.
" We here at Oxford," says he in a letter in the spring of
I^23> "g° on much as usual, criticizing sermons, eating

Resigns Tutorship. 103
dinners, and laughing at Buckland and Shutdeworth. I feel
as if I should be very glad to get away to some country
curacy, and yet I distrust my own powers of making good
company from myself too ; but really a man ought to be
able to do so, and one should hope one might never be
quite too old to learn that lesson."
Partly I suppose from this feeling he appears to
have entertained a notion about this time of ac
cepting a very small living in the gift of the Col
lege, Coleby in Lincolnshire. This, however, came to
nothing, and the living was ultimately bestowed on
his and my friend Trevenen Penrose, who passed the
remainder of his life there, protracted to a good old
age, in the most exemplary discharge of his duty.
The Tutorship, however, he resigned at the end
of Hilary Term in that year, and the death of his
mother in May brought his residence in College
to a close also ; he had gone down to Fairford on
Saturday in each week as usual, and each time found
her decline more decided. On Saturday, May 10, on
his arrival he found her so much worse, that it was
clear her end was approaching, and she died very
early on Sunday morning.
"I found," says he, writing to me on the 13th, "they
were expecting her release every moment : and at 4 o'clock
on Sunday morning I may literally say she fell asleep, for
never did I see such perfect, such dovelike calmness — not
that I was by her at the time. Mary Anne was the only

104 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
one of us who had that happiness, for she had had, from
extreme weakness, two or three nervous or hysterical spasms
in the course of the preceding day, and it was judged better
for us to keep at a distance unless she asked for us. I lay
down in my clothes thinking she might do so, but she did
not ; so the last time I spoke to her was last Wednesday.
But I thought I never saw anything so like an angel as that
dear Mary Anne when she waked me on Sunday morning
to tell me that mamma was just gone so sweetly, with
hardly a sigh. One is apt to think too much of such
things, which are but trifles after all, in comparison ofthe
change to which they lead; but, upon earth, I can hardly
conceive a more speaking call for thankfulness than for
one's dearest relations to be allowed to glide in such a way,
without pain, disturbance, or wandering of mind, just out
of sight into Paradise. You will pray for us, my dear
friend, and dear Mrs. Coleridge will, too, that we may be
something like thankful enough for it : duly thankful we
never can be. . . . As they were all so well at Fairford, it
was judged best for me to come back and get through my
business here."
Writing from Oriel at the same time to Dyson,
he says : —
" I meet with so much kindness here, and feel so certain,
thank God, of their being comfortable at home, that it is
not at all irksome to me, at least not painfully so, as I
should have fancied it beforehand if anyone had told me.
As far as I can judge, the only real bitterness in parting
from dear friends is having to recollect how much one has
failed in one's duty to them; but it will not do to talk
of that."

Death of Mrs. Keble. 1 05
I have made these extracts because they are at
once characteristic and instructive. Mrs. Keble was
the object of the most tender affection to every
member of the family, and to no one of it more so
than to her son ; yet he not only writes thus of his
father, sister, and brother, but was himself able to
leave home as usual on Monday morning, and go
through his work in the Schools, returning only on
Saturday to the funeral. The truth is that his faith,
and I have no doubt their' s, was sincere and practical ;
I never could find in him, when he lost the dearest
objects on earth, any sign of bittter sorrow as without
hope ; he had no dread of death for the good, he
perfectly realized the blessedness of the change for
them, and he looked forward cheerfully and humbly
to a re-union. It was, too, a part of his practical
belief that even now the separation was not absolute ;
it was not merely in poetry that he expressed, more
than once, this cheering thought. It appears again
and again in his letters at different periods of his life.
Writing of a deceased sister he says, —
" For well I guess, and oft my spright
Holds tearful triumph in the dream,
That when Religion's holy light
Guides me with pure and placid gleam ; —
" When I do good, and think aright,
At peace with man, resigned to God,
Thou look'st on me with eye of light,
Tasting new joy in joy's abode.

106 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
" But in my dark and evil hour,
When wan despair mine eyelids seals,
When worldly passions round me lower,
And all the man corruption feels ;
" Thou turnest not thine eyes below,
Or clouds of glory beam between,
Lest earthly pangs of fear or woe
Upon an angel's brow be seen."
It was thus he answered the difficulty which
troubles so many in believing that departed saints
retain a perception of the goodness and happiness
of those whom they have left behind. I do not mean,
of course, that he had shaped this out to his own
mind as a certain truth ; but I have no doubt that he
believed, so as practically to draw consolation from it
under bereavement, that the blessed in the interme
diate state retained some knowledge of things on earth,
some interest in those who survived ; believing this,
he of course believed that Our Father would have
His way, unknown to us, perhaps inconceivable by
us, of so regulating that knowledge, that though it
might, on the one hand, increase, it should never be
allowed, on the other, to abate their blessedness ; and
what that way might be, he would not even shadow
out to himself but dimly, and as it were sugges
tively or alternately. Speaking in poetry on such
a subject he would feel under as much restraint sub
stantially as if he were writing in prose. But I feel

Death of Mrs. Keble. 107
sure that he thought the belief warranted and not
unscriptural, used it for himself as consolatory, and
did not scruple to recommend it to others. The
exquisite poem in the Lyra Innocentium, entitled
" Bereavement, — Children's Troubles, 8," expounds
it very touchingly.
Thus ended his permanent and official residence
at Oxford.

CHAPTER VI.
RETURN TO FAIRFORD, 1 823. — SOUTHROP. — PUPILS.
—HURRELL FROUDE. — "CHRISTIAN YEAR."
KEBLE had now been one of the Tutors of his
College for nearly five years, and had a second
time served the office of Public Examiner, as well
as that of Master of the Schools once, he might
therefore feel justified in ceasing to be a Resident
Fellow, returning to his father and two surviving
sisters, and resuming the charge of his two little
Curacies. His father's health and strength were still
remarkable for his great age, but both were liable to
sudden changes, and his spirits and sense of duty
led him frequently . to undertake more personal la
bour at Coin than was prudent for him. The health,
too, of his sisters was a source of very frequent soli
citude to him ; his letters again and again testify to
this. The pleasure of returning to his home was
greatly augmented by its combining also the return
to a more regular discharge of his professional duties.
The amount of these he now added to by accept
ing the Curacy of Southrop, a small parish very
near to Eastleach and Burthorpe, as well as to Fair
ford. This accumulation of cures, indeed the whole
arrangement in regard to them between the two
brothers, seems to require some explanation, to

Return to Fairford, 1823. iog

those especially who are familiar only with the
more orderly practice of the present day ; and this
is afforded by the circumstances ; their small size
and nearness to each other, their slender population.
their miserably poor endowments, and their want of
attractiveness generally to clergymen. The entire
population of the three did not exceed a thousand.
Eastleach and Burthorpe churches were within a
stone's throw of each other, there was no residence
except at Southrop. The undertaking the care of
them was indeed a labour of love, the whole receipts
exceeded very little £100 a-year, and I have no
doubt fell short considerably of what was expended
upon them. The district indeed, if I may judge
from these cures, and Coin St. Aldwyn's, was one of
shamefully scanty endowments ; the value of that
being only £60 a-year. These circumstances seem
to have interested the two brothers, who took to
them as charges providentially thrown in their way
by their neighbourhood to Fairford; and their father
was ready at all times, in their necessary absences,
to provide for the calls which might casually arise.
Keble had now bid adieu to public tuition ; his
pupils at Oriel had testified to their sense of his
services by a handsome present of plate, inscribed
JOHANNI KEBLE DISCIPULORUM ORIELENSIUM PIE
TAS MDCCCXXHL ; and I observe in passing as cha
racteristic of the degree to which he shrunk from
all exhibition, that intimate as I was with him, I

1 10 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
not only never saw this plate, but I was not even
aware of the fact of its having been given to him,
until I found it stated in the Memoir to which I
have more than once before expressed my obliga
tions. I know not whether such testimonials are
now common, but that age was not so demonstra
tive of affection or gratitude in silver and gold as
the present, and at that time, especially after a ser
vice of so few years, such a gift was very unusual.
It seems to shew how Keble had addressed himself
successfully to the hearts as well as the intellects of
his pupils. It was a thing to be proud of ; he would
be sure to think it was undeserved, and therefore
perhaps he would say little about it to his friends.
But it would not the less move his affections,
and it might be an inducement the more to accept
the Curacy of Southrop, where was a good roomy
house. To this village several of his pupils followed
him occasionally for long visits; some received into
the house, some finding lodgings near : among these
I may name Robert Wilberforce, Isaac Williams,
Hurrell Froude. They were visitors more properly
than pupils ; at least he would accept no remunera
tion from them,, nor would he allow them to inter
fere with the discharge of his parochial duties. He
called himself an idle lounging man, and he had at
all times a desultory, and seemingly irregular way
of working ; but when these occupations are con
sidered, and also how effectually they were disposed

Hurrell Froude. 1 1 1

of, there can be no doubt that his time was well
filled up.
Of Hurrell Froude Dr. Newman has written, " He
was a pupil of Keble's, formed by him, and in turn
re-acting upon him." This sentence is followed by
a short and striking account of this extraordinary
man, to which it would be unwise in me to attempt
any addition, except as it may bear on the object
of this memoir. I knew him from a child, and I
trace in the somewhat singular composition of his
character what he inherited both from his father
and his highly gifted mother ; his father, whom
Keble after his first visit to Dartington Parsonage
playfully described to me as "very amiable, but
provokingly intelligent, one quite uncomfortable to
think of, making one ashamed of going gawking as
one is wont to do about the world, without under
standing anything one sees ;" his mother very beau
tiful in person, and delicate in constitution, with
a highly expressive countenance, and gifted in in
tellect with the genius and imagination which his
father failed in. Like the one he was clever, know
ing, quick, and handy ; like the other he was sensi
tive, intellectual, imaginative. He came to Keble
full of respect for his character; he was naturally
soon won by his affectionateness and simplicity,
and in turn he was just the young man in whom
Keble would at once take an interest and delight
as a pupil; and so in fact it was. I find him

112 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
again and again in Keble's letters spoken of in the
most loving language, yet often not without some
degree of anxiety as to his future course ; he saw
the elements of danger in him, how liable he might
be to take a wrong course, or be misunderstood even
when taking a right one ; yet his hopes largely pre
vailed; and especially I remember his rejoicing at
his being elected Fellow of Oriel, thinking that the
new society and associations, with the responsibilities
of college employment, would tend to keep him safe.
That Keble acted on him (I would rather use that
term, than "formed,") is certain, and even when,
in the later years of his short life, symptoms of
coming differences in opinion may be traced in his
letters, there is no abatement of personal love and
reverence, nor indeed, in a certain sense, of his feel
ing the weight of Keble's influence; and though I
gather from these that there was more entire agree
ment with Dr. Newman as to action, yet it seems to
me that there still remained a closer intimacy and
more filial feeling with regard to Keble. I may be
mistaken in this ; it is a conclusion I have come to
from reading the letters in that strangely interesting
book, " The Remains," and inferring from them the
nature of Keble's letters to him, which I very much
regret that I have not been able to procure a sight of.
I have not altered this passage, but since the
volume was printed and published, a number of
these letters have been discovered, (it would seem

Hurrell Froude. 113

by a strange accident,) and placed at my disposal
by Mr. William Froude. They fully justify my an
ticipations as to their value and interest ; and so far
as I now can, I shall avail myself of his kind per
mission. That Hurrell Froude " re-acted on Keble" is true
also, I have no doubt, in a certain sense; it could
scarcely be otherwise, where there was so much
ability and affectionate playfulness, with so much
originality on one side, so much humility on the
other, and so much love on both. It would be idle
to speculate on what might have been, when the
hour of trial came, which none of those specially
engaged probably then foresaw ; before it arrived,
Hurrell Froude had sunk under the constitutional
malady against which he struggled for four years.
What he would have been, and what he would have
done, had his life been prolonged, no one can say ;
it would be unfair to judge him by what he left
behind, except as rich grounds of promise. This I
believe I may confidently say, that those who knew
him best loved him the most dearly, and expected
the most from him. This could be more truly said
of no one of these than of Keble.
It was while he was thus engaged, that he re
ceived, I believe the only, offer that was ever made
him of a dignity in the Church. Early in 1824 it
was determined to constitute two Dioceses in the
West Indies, and William Hart Coleridge, then a
I

114 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Student of Christ Church, but who had been labour
ing assiduously as Curate in a large London parish,
St. Andrew's, Holborn, was selected to preside over
that of Barbados and the Leeward Islands. He had
to appoint two Archdeacons, and he pressed Keble
to go out with him as Archdeacon of Barbados ; the
endowment was a liberal one, £2,000 a-year. Keble
had a great regard and esteem for the young Bishop
whom he had known on friendly terms at Oxford,
and who, like himself, had achieved the honour of
a Double First Class. He was much gratified by
the offer, and, as he says in writing to Dyson,
" I might have been dazzled by it ;" but about
a month before it was made, on his return from
Oxford, whither he had gone to preach, he had
found his father with his speech considerably af
fected, and with other symptoms calculated to make
his children anxious about him.
" This," he says, in writing to me on March 2, 1824, "as
you may suppose, was a strong ingredient in my reasoning
with myself on the very kind and too partial offer which
W. C. made me. My father was so agitated upon one's
pressing the matter in the least, that we all agreed in think
ing I could not have done otherwise than I did, without
very serious injury to his health in its present state. Under
all the circumstances, this left me of course no choice, and
I always think that is the greatest comfort, to have one's
way plainly marked out. It is to be hoped that the recol
lection of such a proposal having been made will serve
a little to startle one from one's idleness, which I find by

Archdeaconry of Barbados. 115
sad experience is likely to be the besetting sin of country
parsons ; and not the least instance of it is neglect of cor
respondents and distant friends. But one fives on every
day in hopes of mending, and I suppose one must not de
spair of oneself quite, any more than of one's parishioners."
This would seem at first sight another instance
illustrating the cogency on Keble's mind of filial
and other domestic obligations; but it is right to
shew, from a letter to Dyson, in what light he re
garded this particular call. It was not in his opinion
a case in which domestic and professional duties came
at all into comparison or conflict with each other : —
" Talking of Archdeacons, what do you think ? what say
you to my going out Archdeacon to Barbados under W.
Coleridge : would you advise me to go out, or not ? (N.B.
I am ripe for asking advice). But do you remember some
ofthe conversations we had on things in general, when we
last met at Oxford ? I have often thought of them since ;
indeed I may say the subject of them is hardly ever out of
my mind for half an hour together. And in my cogitations
on this matter, I thought of them more than usual, because
they helped to confirm me in the resolution I knew I must
come to. Thinks I to myself, one cannot surely think of
a W. Indian Archdeaconry with 2,000 a-year, &c, &c, as
a sort of primitive mission to which everything must give .
way. In short, thinks I to myself, 'tis a mere political
thing, and I'm sure Dyson would say the same. Never
theless, I do not say I should not have been dazzled by it,
if my father had not been so decided as he was ; not so
much by what he said, as by his looks and manner. We
were all agreed that it was quite out of the question."

1 1 6 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
My cousin was influenced, I am sure, in making
his offer, both by personal regard, and a sincere
desire to select the most fitting person he could
find for an appointment of especial importance to
him in the settlement of the new Diocese ; but I
believe every one will now rejoice that Keble de
clined to accept it. Had he gone to the West
Indies, and retained his health, I have no doubt he
would have discharged the duties of his office effec
tively, and wherever he was, he must have been dis
tinguished. "The Christian Year" was so far ad
vanced at this time, that he probably would have
completed it ; indeed, according to his own theory
of poetry, which would have justified its truth in no
one more than in himself, he could not but have
written it, and we should have had it, I suppose,
with a large infusion of tropical lights and imagery,
very striking and interesting. He would have finished
it slowly however, and very probably, being in some
sort removed from the influences of his home ad
visers, he would have left it unpublished at his
death, according to his original intention. But at
a distance from European influences and friend
ships, from the University, and the succeeding agi
tations of the Church in England, he could not
have filled the useful and important place to which
he was now advancing ; and some of his works, such
for example as the Prcelectiones, and the edition of
Hooker, we should certainly have lost. Considera-

" The Christian Year!' 117
tions of this kind of course did not occur to his mind,
nor influence his determination ; apart from all these,
however, it was one fully justified.
It was early in the following year (1825) that
Keble's letters shew him beginning to contemplate
seriously the publication of " The Christian Year " —
silently, or only with communications to his home
circle and some very few others, poem had been added
to poepi ; but his notion did not as yet go beyond
a posthumous publication at most, when he had
given the work as much perfection as he should be
capable of giving it. I think at that time he would
have shrunk a good deal from publishing anything —
there was not, it may be remembered, the same prone-
ness " to rush into print " which characterizes the pre
sent time — but with regard to poems of a religious
character, and which affected the Church, he would,
of course, feel a greater scruple about publication.
Happily all his friends were against him — yielding
by inches, and delaying, even when the resolution
was taken, to accomplish it, the step was however
ultimately accomplished. In regard to such a work,
even these preliminary stages it may be interesting
to observe.
March 5, 1825, he writes to me from Fairford : —
" Now they are all gone to bed, I will tell you a secret ;
which is that after all my backwardness (which I suppose
was chiefly affectation) on such subjects, I am in a fair way
to commence author — ' only think,' as Ellison says — Mr.
Jeremiah Dyson, whose opinion on such a matter I take to

1 1 8 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
be as safe as anybody's can be, strongly recommends me
to publish some of the hymns you wot of. It is against
my original plan, which was to complete the series if I
could, go on improving it all my life, and leave it to come
out, if judged useful, when I shall be fairly out of the way;
and this is still my favourite plan — only I am afraid I am
in a way of being persuaded out of it. Do give me your
considerate, and not partial opinion, which way would
answer best — for indeed the matter is too serious to bandy
compliments upon — that is to say, if it is worth thinking of
at all."
As to this notion of posthumous publication, I do
not remember that he ever mentioned, or was in any
way influenced by the circumstance, that George
Herbert had formed the same resolution, and acted
upon it, in regard to the publication of the " Temple."
It is certainly at least a curious coincidence, that in
respect of two Poets, and two works so often com
pared together, and so standing apart by themselves,
as it were, in our literature, the same unusual resolution
should have been formed. Keble would never have
thought of placing himself in comparison with Her
bert, of whose poems he was a great admirer : yet he
could hardly have been ignorant of the fact, and he
might have been moved, even unconsciously, to follow
the example of so holy a man.
To Dyson he writes on the 1st of April, 1825 : —
" I am very much obliged to you for your kind intentions
with regard to the MS. I shall certainly pump you for
more criticism, whether anything come of the printing

" The Christian Year" 119
scheme or no. The more I think of it, the more my fancy
would lead me to wait till it might be posthumous. But
I must see what Johnny Davison says — I have sent him
most of them — leaving out some which I think paltry, and
others, which come, as it were, too near home for me to
like to shew them much — some also on account of their
going rather more than might be approved of upon that
notion of decay in the Church, which you know I have for
some time entertained. It seemed to me that this had bettei
be established in prose first ; without something of that sort,
the hymns of which I speak would be hardly intelligible to
most readers."
To me he wrote in July : —
" With regard to my other little literary project I have
adjourned it nominally till February — but I am in hopes
I shall have quite persuaded my persuaders to let it stand
over sine die, by the time February comes."
Writing to Cornish, in August of the same year,
from Southrop, he says : —
"Thank you fifty times for your nice little hint about
keeping back my MSS. for a good long while. I am quite
sure you are right ; and now there is less occasion to be
in a hurry, as Tucker says the Scotch Book, which had
pirated one of them, is come to another edition in which
it's left out."
Cornish, I have no douDt, thought there was still
much to do in the way of correction, both as to
clearness of expression and smoothness in the mea
sures, and this agreed entirely with Keble's own

120 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
opinion ; and although he went on with his prepa
rations, the advice remained impressed upon his
mind : —
" I am just now," says he in September of the same year,
writing from Fladbury to Dyson, "making up another
packet of hymns for Davison's revisal : and am coming to
a sound and judicious resolution against publishing, for
a good while yet at least."
What was Mr. Davison's advice, I have not the
means of ascertaining precisely ; from the general
constitution of his mind I should expect that al
though his criticism in detail would be minute and
severe, and his advice in favour of great deliberation,
yet he would look. through all questions of detail to
the substantial merits, and the great importance of
the work in a religious point of view ; and therefore
be against long delay. It is clear, I think, that with
Keble left alone, a degree of caution which we may
now safely pronounce exaggerated would have pre
vailed ; this would have been dictated by his hu
mility, which underrated the merit of everything he
did, and perhaps, even in this instance, more by his
sense of the responsibility of a work, which sought
to influence in some sort the religious belief and
practice of his readers.
On the 26th of September in the same year he
writes about "the verses" to Froude; arid I the ra
ther print what follows, because I notice in it the

The Theory of Poetry. 121
first indication of the theory of Poetry, which he laid
down formally afterwards in his Pralectiones.
" Lenham, near Maidstone,
26 Sepf., 1825.
" My dear Fellow,
" As Tyler begins, when he is in a jolly mood, these are
to thank you very much for the trouble you have taken
about them there things of mine, and still more for your
telling me exactly what you think about them; for w1* I
shall hold you in greater honour as long as I live. For
to say the truth, I look upon thorough honesty in this kind
to be a rare thing in critic-land. I am not so partial to my
own crockery, as not to be myself aware of the want of
poetical depth, and fervour, w011 disqualifies many or most
of them from being of much use to imaginative people ;
but if they only serve as helps to the memory of plain,
good sort of people, that is in my mind use enough ; pro
vided they do no harm by being untrue or obtrusive, of w*
last I am a httle afraid. At any rate I mean to take plenty
of time, to make out the ecclesiastical year, if I can, before
I publish ; and I feel as if this would take up my life. It
would be a great delight to do something, w1* might be
of use to the sort of persons you mention : but that must
be left for some one who can do it — and probably whenever
it is done, it will be done by somebody who never thought
of it himself, but merely wrote to relieve his own mind. In
deed, that was the original purpose of what you have seen,
and so far it has proved very useful ; but there is no making
a silk purse out of a sow's ear — a foohsh figure, but fare
well that.
" I am here on a week's visit to Tucker, before I enter
on my new cure at Hursley."

122 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
There is a passage in a letter to Mr. Pruen, which,
though written after the publication of the book, sug
gests an additional reason for the previous delay, and
I feel sure this had operated strongly in Keble's mind ;
a reason which I also believe caused in him all through
life a feeling of sadness and dissatisfaction in regard
to the book, increased rather than diminished by its
popularity. I will insert the passage here, as it is
necessary to complete the account of the motives
which made him averse to publication, but some re
marks which it suggests will find a more proper
place hereafter.
" I had long ago considered about printing ' the Dedica
tion' you speak of: but somehow or other (though Davi
son recommended it) I could not bring myself to it; it
seemed too much like printing one's own private confes
sions : and so to be sure is half the book ; and many times,
when I consider what my friends would think of me if I
were to print the other nine-tenths of my thoughts, I really
feel quite ashamed of having printed the book at all : for
though I am not blind enough to see all the good in it that
you do, I am well aware there is quite good enough to
make it on the whole a considerable fib on my part But
this will not do to talk and laugh about."
Keble's attention was, however, now much engaged
upon a step which has always seemed to me most
important in respect to himself, namely, the quitting
the retirement of Fairford and his little Gloucester
shire Cures, and coming more into the sunshine as

Hursley Curacy. 123

the Curate of Hursley, with the sole charge of that
parish. Hursley is a Vicarage united to the Rectory of
Otterbourne, and the Incumbent at the time I am
speaking of was Archdeacon Heathcote, uncle to
Keble's old pupil, Sir William Heathcote ; he resided
at Winchester, there being at that time no residence
either in the Rectory or the Vicarage ; he took charge
himself of the former, and had a Curate for the lat
ter ; this curacy became vacant, and on Sir William's
recommendation it was offered to Keble, and ac
cepted by him in the spring of 1825, to be entered
on at Michaelmas. In the mean time Sir William
had found an unfinished house, which stood between
the Church and his own Park gates, which he set
himself to work to finish, and Keble, with the full
consent of his father and sisters, made his arrange
ments for the change. The house would not be
finished, probably, when Michaelmas came, but
Keble was to take up his abode temporarily with
Sir William at his mansion.
This was among the first acts of Sir William on
succeeding to the property, and it is one on which
I may venture to say he has reason especially to
congratulate himself, both in itself, and in the train
of consequences which flowed from it. Some of
these probably were contemplated by no one; and
perhaps at the moment little more was in his mind
than the giving pleasure to Keble, while he pro
cured for the parish in which he resided so good

124 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
and able a minister, and for himself the close neigh
bourhood of so dear a friend, and so wise an ad
viser. Yet I think it must have been obvious to
him that the time had arrived when it was fitting
that Keble, who had renounced the academical
course, and was so singularly averse to any ambi
tious speculations, should be called on to labour in
a larger field, and exercise his personal influence
more widely than it was open for him to do at
Fairford. Perhaps no place, and no circumstances,
could be more favourable than Hursley, and those
which attended the change when it was made.
Keble, indeed, would have said, and in strictness
truly said, that no sphere was so narrow, but that
a good man's energies might be fully and worthily
exercised in the ministry there ; and he would have
repelled the notion that he had gifts which ought
to be developed and displayed in the charge of
a more varied, and more educated population than
that of his Gloucestershire villages. Still there are
to be desired in this as in other things, where it can
be had, a fitness and proportion between the clergy
man and his cure. Qualifications may be in danger
of slumbering useless in one place, which find full
scope and motive for development and exercise in
another. But independently of this higher consideration,
there were pleasure and usefulness in what was to
be around him at Hursley, of a kind which did not
exist at Fairford ; the vicinity of Winchester Cathe-

Hursley Curacy. 125

dral, the College, and School: Robert Barter was
not then indeed the Warden of the one, nor Dr. Mo
berly Head Master of the other, with both of whom
he was afterwards to be on the most friendly terms.
The society of Hursley itself, however, and its neigh
bourhood, and especially that which would, of course,
gather from time to time at Hursley Park ; the re
newal of his familiar intercourse with his favourite
old pupil ; the character of the country around him,
dry and healthy, a pleasant interchange of breezy
down and picturesque woodland, hill and valley,
the New Forest, Southampton, and the sea at a con
venient distance ; these are some of the circumstances
to which I allude.
Keble was not insensible to these attractions, still
it was a call on him which might seem to break in
upon the discharge of what he had always con
sidered among the first, if not the very first, of his
duties, and he naturally hesitated to accept the offer.
I cannot do better than insert here the two letters,
addressed to Sir William Heathcote, in the first of
which he expresses his doubts, and in the second
his acceptance of the offer ; the kindness of spirit in
which that had been conceived and made may be in
ferred from the answers : — " Southrop,
March 14, 1825.
" My dear and kind Friend,
" I am afraid you will think me very childish after so

126 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
many days' consideration of your too kind offer, to be still
asking for more time, and yet so it is. I feel very strongly
the value and the blessing of such a place as you offer me
in your esteem and confidence; although I cannot help
shrinking from the increased responsibility which such a
change in my station would impose upon me; and then
to leave my father and sisters, even for the distance of
one long day's journey, is a step not to be resolved upon
without a good deal of rather intense consideration, under
our circumstances ; the circumstances, I mean, of my father's
age, and my eldest sister's health. If it were not for this, I
believe I should without further delay have closed with
your proposal, the friendliness and piety of which I do in
deed most deeply feel; and whatever be the issue, shall
always be most thankful to have received such a letter.
Yet I feel so many doubts as to my own fitness for a charge
in many respects different from my present one, that I am
satisfied it is best for me to have such a family difficulty as
this to hinder me from deciding too suddenly. Could you,
then, and could the Archdeacon, (to whom please to offer
my very sincere acknowledgments,) allow me without in
convenience a week or ten days more, from the time you
receive this ? In the course of that time, I think I shall be
able to satisfy my mind more thoroughly than I can just
now, as to what I ought to do. Do not think me cold and
ungrateful, for indeed I am not so, though much weaker
and less resolute in my duty than I fear you imagine me.
And if you had rather have my answer sooner, pray do not
scruple to tell me so. My best regards, if you please, to
your Mother and Aunt, and Mr. Lovell, and believe me,
" Your very grateful and affte Friend,
"John Keble, Jun1."

Hursley Curacy. 127

" Fairford,
"March 29, 1825.
" My dear Friend,
" Having considered everything well over ' one, two, tree
time,' and having examined, and cross-examined, indivi
dually and collectively, the several members of this my
Privy Council, I need not keep you, or the rest of my
kind friends at Hursley and Winchester any longer in sus
pense. I thankfully accept your kind offer, and only hope
that I may not prove unworthy of it. What I propose is,
if you can conveniently receive me, to give up Southrop to
my brother about the latter end of August, or beginning of
September, and then undertake Hursley immediately. By
that time the house might, I should think, be floored, plas
tered, white-washed, painted, and I should think papered ;
so that the main operations left would be to lay out the
garden, and lay in the furniture, both of which I could
superintend at my leisure. And there is this advantage in
coming while things are still rather unfinished ; that if upon
trial I should find myself more homesick than I expect to
be, it would be less of an undertaking to transport myself
home again ; or suppose my father or eldest sister, when it
comes to the point, should find it more essential to their
comfort to have me with them, than it now seems, as there
is no answering for the wishes of invalids, or in many other
supposable cases, it may turn out a great convenience to be
a httle unsettled at first. But I will not anticipate anything
to disturb so comfortable an arrangement as we all think it.
My chief care now must be to endeavour, by God's bless
ing, that you may never have occasion to repent of your
confidence in me. My father and sisters give me good
hopes of paying me long and frequent visits, but I must
endeavour not to build much on that. I know my best

128 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
and wisest way will be to make my parish, wherever I am
called, as entirely my home as possible, and to take all
one sees of friends and relations as something too-oc ko\ erl.
I have been a little spoiled in this respect by the privilege
of staying with my first and best friends so long; but I
trust I am not too old to mend. At all events, I should
like to make the trial." ....
Upon this footing the arrangement was made;
I may seem to have been very diffuse on a matter
commonly so ordinary as the acceptance of a Curacy ;
but it is obvious from the letters I have just inserted,
that Sir William's offer was not an ordinary one, nor
couched in ordinary language; and I have already
stated my reasons for thinking that the change
which this move made in Keble's habits of life, in
the society in which he moved, and in the exercise
of his professional duties, was most important ; it
was very happily timed too, and the acceptance met
with the hearty concurrence of the Privy Council to
which the letters refer. His father, indeed, was sure
to consider the question with good sense, arid entire
freedom from selfish bias, and the conclusion was
certairi. This resolution put an end, I believe, to Keble's
any longer acting as Tutor to any one ; and it pre
vented his accepting one pupil, then a lad between
Harrow and Oxford, whom at the request of his
father I had earnestly pressed on him to take charge
of — Arthur Acland. I can hardly conceive one who

Hursley Curacy. 129

would have been more congenial to him. But it
could not then be arranged ; however, this did not
prevent the formation of a friendship between them
' in after life, and it was pleasant to me to know on
good information, that under the great affliction of
his life, which indeed did not very long precede his
own death, Arthur Troyte, as he had become, sought
the vicarage at Hursley, and found substantial con
solation in the sympathy which Keble manifested,
and the advice he gave.

K

CHAPTER VII.
HURSLEY CURACY. — DEATH OF MARY ANN KEBLE.—
RETURN TO FAIRFORD. — 1825 — 1826.
IN the lives of most men there is a period which
one would characterize, if not as the most happy,
yet the brightest, and most sunshiny; when their
hopes are most cheerful, their cares lightest, their
sense of enjoyment most lively. The year which
Keble passed as Curate of Hursley I should cha
racterize as that period in his life ; it was scarcely
a year, before he was re-called to Fairford by an
event which, with all his habitual resignation, was
yet one of the most afflicting trials he had ever
been submitted to. But of this by-and-by.
It had been arranged, as I have intimated, that
Thomas Keble should take to the Curacies, and to
the Parsonage at Southrop, on his leaving it. This
was the more agreeable, as he had not long before,
to the entire satisfaction of the family, and not least
to that of Keble, married a lady, whose sister after
wards became Keble's own wife. Before Keble settled
at Hursley, he visited two or three of his old friends,
and took Ellison's duty at Huntspill for a week or
two, and on the first Sunday of October, 1825, com
menced the discharge of his duties as Curate.

Hursley Curacy. 131

Writing to me not long before he started from
home, he says : —
" You would laugh if you could look into me, and read
all the pretty schemes of reform which course one another
over my still childish brain. I am to be so regular, so
industrious, so punctual, suck an early riser, &c, &c, &c,
and all to be learned, or rather picked up on Salisbury
Plain, in the space of sixty-five miles from this home to my
new one."
On the day of what he called "reading himself
in to his new diocese," he wrote to me in high spirits ;
he had found his house unfinished, and was residing
with Sir William at Hursley Park ; this, too, might be
called the bright period of Sir William's life ; he had
not long entered on his career; his marriage was
in prospect "before him, and his election as Knight
of the Shire. Keble writes in the fulness of his
heart, how "very very friendly" he was to him, and
how " much more comfortable and more at home he
was than he ever thought he should be so soon, un-
Fairfordized as he was." He likes his village, his
home, his church tower, (I note his expressive silence
as to his church,) and he sums up a string of likings,
with the remark, that "here is a good store to set
against the uncomfortable circumstances which are
sure to come by-and-by." His accounts from home,
too, were bright : —
" Elizabeth's headaches are mending, and my Father is
as brisk as a bee ; he has not flagged a moment about my

1 32 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
departure, and when he keeps up himself, he keeps us all
up with him."
He had come into the parish with the best of re
commendations, and was most kindly received; he
soon made his own way good, both socially and as
the pastor of the flock ; hints disclosing his industry
in this last respect appear from time to time in his
correspondence. Beside these, there was the Parson
age to be finished, and the garden, an especial ob
ject of interest, and the pleasure-ground, to be laid
out and planted ; the first of these lies between
the house and churchyard on the side of the house
which faces the tower and west end ofthe Church,
the latter slopes away very prettily from the back
front, and is flanked on the west by the Park pales,
and some fine old elms. The house itself is rather
picturesque than handsome, not commonplace, not
too large, yet sufficiently commodious.
Keble's old friends were not slow to visit him in
his new abode ; and this was one of his greatest
pleasures; among them very early was Arnold. He
says : —
" I have tried the cozie powers of the Hursley air not
only with Mary Anne, who has paid me a visit of five
weeks ending the 9th Janr., but also with Tom Arnold,
who ran down here like a good neighbour, and surveyed
the premises and the neighbourhood presently after Christ
mas. How very unaltered he is, and how very comfortable

Hursley Curacy. 133

and contented ; he is one of the persons whom it does one
good to think of when I am in a grumbling vein."
Arnold was at this time residing with pupils at
Laleham, with the spirits and hopefulness of boy
hood, or youth, and the activity and brightness of
, early manhood ; and, as Keble says, quite unaltered
in manner from what we had known him at Oxford.
He had brought with him the opening .of an Essay
on Schools and Universities, intended for a Review.
Keble says "the covering of the jar is so very
sweet and luscious, that I suspect there must be
something terribly bitter below ; but he only cackles
and crows at anything anybody can say to him."
Few survive who can remember how to the life this
paints him in his merry defiant moods in his younger
days. I may add that he had sent me in a letter
an analysis of what he intended to say ; it is so full,
and able, that I cannot but wish it had been selected
for publication in his Life.
Tucker, John Awdry, and Charles Plumer, the
two latter at that time brother Fellows with him
of Oriel, also came to him ; it was scarcely a de
viation for me when on my Circuit, in passing from
Winchester to Salisbury, to go by Hursley, and I
visited him in this way both in the spring and
summer. Upon the latter occasion I was taking
my two elder boys into Devonshire, and they were
received by him during the Winchester Assizes. At

1 34 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
tlie end of these I went there and took them on
with me. I found him with his father and two
sisters in high spirits, and all four had concurred in
making the little ones happy; they on their part
had not been slow in becoming familiar with Keble,
and accepting him as their playmate; and so their
fondness for him commenced, which, combined with
the profoundest respect as years advanced, conti
nued unabated to his death. Love for children, a
full understanding of their natures, and the power
of entering into all their ways and wishes, and in
terpreting their thoughts, were properties he pos
sessed even then in a very high degree.
I have said I found his father and sisters with
him ; this was a realization of the expectations held
out to- him before he left Fairford. Mary Anne, as
has been stated, had fulfilled a promise she . had
made for herself, on which he counted much, and
had stayed for five weeks with him in the pre
ceding December and January. When I had pro
posed sending my young ones to him, I had sip-
posed him alone, and should hardly have thought
of sending him such intruders, if I had known who
were with himi ; but Mr. Keble and the sisters both
concurred in wishing them. to. come. In announc
ing this to me, he says : —
"You may imagine the pleasure it is to have my Father
and Sisters here ; my Father so remarkably well, and so
beautifully cheerful ; he enjoys the place much more than

Hursley Curacy. 135

I had expected, and will not allow that he sleeps at all the
worse for being out of his own bed Elizabeth was rather
knocked up with the journey, not at first but after a day
or two; however, now she is looking up again, and enjoys
our woodland drives mightily. In short, they all seem as
natural almost as at Fairford ; and the place being left in
dishabille longer than it ought, is no great disadvantage, for
it will have all the benefit of their suggestions ; and I don't
despair of its being quite a show parsonage by the time
Johnny's eldest grandson goes his first Circuit You will
come the end of next week, and give us the benefit of your
advice, there's a good fellow."
He little thought in how short a time compara
tively, and in how different a sense, he would make
the vicarage a show parsonage.
He and I were to dine with Sir William, and after
we had set the home party down to their earlier
dinner, we took a long walk in the Park, and, I re
member, explored the remains of the old Merdon
Castle, which stands in it Such pleasures were now
of rare occurrence to me, and the walk lives in my
memory. I dwell on this passage in Keble's life with minute
ness, and with the more interest, at least to myself,
from the sad close of it which so soon followed.
The family visit terminated, Mr. Keble and the two
sisters returned to Fairford. In a letter which I
have seen, written some years before to Mrs. Pruen,
in which: he spoke of intending to introduce a young
lady to herr he says, " not my wife Elizabeth, but

136 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
my sweetheart Mary Anne." These words very hap
pily and truly describe the shadow of difference
in his feeling towards the two sisters ; both have
long passed away, and I may speak of them without
reserve ; while they were so identified with Keble,
that those who read about him ought to know some
thing of them. Elizabeth, the elder by several years,
was almost a constant invalide; her complaint had
rendered an operation necessary, which made her
lame, and she was seldom free from suffering. Her
cheerful patience, her unselfishness, her strong good
sense, her sweetness, and her piety, mixed up a large
portion of reverence for her with the love which he
bore towards her. Nor was this without reason ; in
my note made at the time of this visit, and which
I print because it was made at the time, and only
for my own eyes, I see I say of her, " Miss Keble
was with him, looking very delicate ; she had evi
dently suffered much from the hot weather, and
looked less pretty than she used, but there is an
almost angelic sweetness about her manner, and ex
pression of countenance." Mary Anne was younger ;
though not strong, yet having better health, and
brighter spirits, smarter in speech, and more light-
hearted, entering into all his drolleries, and answer
ing them, walking with. him, riding with him; he
constantly sporting with her, seldom addressing her
but by some fond diminutive nick-name ; and in his
letters to her constantly sliding into odd rhymes, or

Death of Mary A nne Keble. 1 3 7
droll puns ; yet with all this he had the fullest sense
of the sterling qualities of head and heart, which she
possessed. It would have been, I suppose, impos
sible to say which he loved most tenderly, " the wife,
or the sweetheart."
It was the unexpected death of this dear sister
which he communicated to me in the following
letter :— " Fairford,
Sept. 25, 1826.
" My very dear Friend,
" I cannot help hoping you may in some way or other
be a Httle prepared for what I have to communicate —
a most trying visitation of God's Providence, particularly
to my father and Elizabeth, — yet accompanied, as always,
with many, very many circumstances of great comfort and
relief. I was summoned from Hursley the morning Henry
Coleridge left me, by an account of dearest Mary Anne's
being alarmingly ill ; when I came here, I found she had
been in a state of delirium ever since Sunday night; and
this continued, with very slight abatement, till last Wed
nesday morning about two o'clock, when she was quiet for
about two hours, and then, seemingly without pain, fell into
her last sleep, fairly worn down by the violence of the
attack. Dear soul, I really do not think it at all presump
tuous to rejoice in the contemplation of her present state.
Sudden as her death was to herself, she was, I firmly be
heve, entirely prepared for it. Her spirits had been rather
affected of late, and she sometimes appeared to anticipate
something; but the only effect this had on her was to
make her more cheerful and resigned in everything, and
kinder to everybody. The more coolly I think of her, now

138 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
the first shock is over, the more does this comfort grow
upon me ; and if it were not for my father and Elizabeth,
I think I should feel an unmixed though melancholy plea
sure in thinking of her. To them, as you may well con
ceive, the separation is painfully trying : humanly speaking,
irreparable; but the Almighty has mercies in store which
we know not of, and they are both so calm and patient,—
my Father even cheerful, — that I cannot, upon considera
tion, be uncomfortable about them either. My brother
and Bessie are with us, and are the greatest support to
one another, and tb us ; and the baby is like a little angel
sent among us to shine in an overclouded place. Then we
have our Bibles and Prayer-books at hand, and are sure of
the affectionate sympathy of many dear friends, you my
dear Coleridge particularly; never shall we forget the very
brotherly letter you sent us the last time we were in dis
tress, when we had just parted from my mother. I was
very glad of your letter by Henry, and of the cheering ac
count he brought of your family ; the blessing of God be
upon them all. Remember us in your prayers, — me par
ticularly, that I may make a better use of this than I have
done of other visitations. And when you write to Ottery,
will you let Frank and Henry know how things are, with
my kindest regards. I promised to write, but perhaps he
will excuse that at present. " Your very affectionate Friend,
" John Keble, Jun'."
He wrote about the same time on the same oc
casion to Froude, and even had the letter been
confined to this, it is so exquisite in thought and
expression, that I could not have withheld it from

Death of Mary Anne Keble. 139
my readers; but they will see that it has a cha
racter of its own ; tenderly, and delicately, and very
wisely, the former tutor suggests to the pupil, now
become the young friend, how to deal with infir
mities in temper, or spirits, to which he thought
him constitutionally liable. I therefore give the
whole letter, and for the same reason I subjoin an
extract from another written later in the same
year : —
" I am now in the midst of preparations to quit Hursley,
and return to hve at Fairford as early as I can next week ;
I therefore am afraid I shall not be able to write much to
the purpose, but something I must write in answer to yours,
which was forwarded from home with a very comfortable
account of matters there, and reached me this morning.
I knew you would be very sorry when you heard of what
has come upon us, and I feel that I can write freely to you
about it ; but I cannot half describe to you the depth and
intensity, at least as it seemed to me, of my thoughts and
feelings during Mary Anne's illness and for some time since.
Certainly no loss could be so great, humanly speaking, to
Elisabeth and my Father ; but they are both such sort of
people, that I have long been used to consider everything
that happens to them as a certain good: and there was
nothing bitter in my grief as far as they were concerned ;
much less in thinking of Mary Anne herself; but the real
bitterness was when I thought of many things in which
I have been far less kind to her than I ought to have been.
Somehow or other I have for years been accustomed to
talk to her far more freely than to anybody else in the
world, though of course there were two or three whom

140 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
I loved quite as well. But it has so happened that when
ever I was moody or fretful, she has had to bear with me
more than any one, and if I chose I could sit down and
torment myself by the hour with the thought of it. This
is the only feeling of real bitterness that I have on the
subject, but I know it is wrong to indulge it, and I trust
soon to get over it entirely ; indeed, I seem to have done
so already, only I feel one cannot in any way depend upon
one's self. I am certain no person who believes in the
Atonement ought to indulge in bitter remorse, and there
fore, by God's blessing, I don't mean to be uncomfortable
if I can help it, even in the thought of my past faults.
I have been so too much already, and it only seems to
make one lazy and weaken one's own hands and one's
friends'. If you please, therefore, don't let us encourage
one another in melancholy any more; but let us always
resolutely look to the bright side of things, and among
other helps to be quiet, let us always talk as freely to one
another as we do now ; for nothing relieves one so much
as making a clean breast. I never was so much impressed
with the value and excellency of cheerfulness as a Christian
virtue as I have been since M. A.'s death. The remem
brance of her peculiar cheerfulness (for she had more of
it than any of us, except, perhaps, my Father) goes so far
towards keeping us all up, especially Elisabeth. We keep
thinking how vexed she would be to see us annoying our
selves about her; and how she always wanted everybody
to live in sunshine; and it quite makes us ashamed and
afraid to feel desolate. You may easily imagine what
a support this is to Elisabeth, whose thoughts, both from
her temper and circumstances, are more entirely fixed on
M. A. than either of ours can be. Of course, she must feel
like a widow, but I trust not as a desolate one : certainly

Death of Mary Anne Keble. 141
she seems alive to every comfort, and her prevalent feeling
is one of deep thankfulness for the assurance of M. A.'s
happiness. As to my Father, he really seems to have re
covered his ordinary cheerfulness : now and then he is
overcome, but tears relieve him, and he goes on comfortably
again. I am going to be his curate at Coin, where I hope
we shall yet have many a comfortable discourse, and not
find it necessary to ramble so far as the Wye in search of
'great rocks' to shelter us. I don't mean that I am to
hve at Coin, but at Fairford. Betty goes to Coin. I like
your plans of reading, but don't be disheartened if you seem
to do little; only I would not indulge reveries. As you
speak of good books, do look at the Life of Mr. Bonnell
if it comes in your way. It is in the list of the Christian
Knowledge Society, and Hawkins I know can lend it you.
See p. 153. There is a passage which I have found useful,
and I suspect you may too. You cannot think how often
you come into my mind, especially now I am endeavouring
to train myself to a more thorough content and cheerfulness
than I have ever yet practised. For I fancy that you and
I require in some respects the same sort of training. At
any rate I know too well what passes in my own mind, to
think anything contemptible in you. Now I think this is
enough about ourselves, for I hold it to be a selfish and
dangerous sort of thing for people to be always turning
their eyes inward. But don't let this hinder you from
writing always as freely of what is uppermost as you do
now ; only please not to let your own faults, nor anything
uncomfortable, be often uppermost. As I said before, I
am sure it is not natural it should be so in those for whom
Christ died.
"This lesson I have learned of dear Mary Anne, and
I hope not to forget it, but to have it perfect by the time

142 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
I see her again, and if I can get you to leam it too, so
much the better for us all. She often used to speak of
you, and I dare say to pray for you, for she fancied you
not quite comfortable, and she had a great feeling for that
sort of discomfort.
" God bless you now, my dear friend. Let me hear from
you as often as it seems to do you any good — and don't
mind what you write. Mention how your sister is — I have
heard nothing of her for a long time. Ever and ever yours,
J. K., Jun*." "2d. Dec"., 1826.
" So much for myself, and now you. I am bound to
thank you over and over again for your last letter, it was.
and is a real comfort to me, for I am tolerably sure you
are in the right way, only don't dwell too much upon
whatever may have been wrong; to some minds it may
be necessary, but not to those who are in danger of be
coming indolent by too much thinking about themselves.
And when you find yourself, as I daresay you sometimes.
do, overpowered as it were by melancholy, the best way
is to go out, and do something kind to somebody or other.
Objects, either rich or poor, will generally present them
selves in the hour of need to those who look for them in
earnest, although Oxford is not perhaps the most con
venient place to find them in. However, there they surely
are, if you will take the trouble of looking for them ; and
perhaps that very trouble is in some sort an advantage in
driving away a moody fit, although I always reckon it
a great privilege of a country Parson, that his resources
in this way lie close to his own door. Writing, too, I have
known in many cases a very great relief; but I almost
doubt the expediency of preserving journals, at least of

Death of Mary Anne Keble. 145
looking much back upon them: if one could summon
resolution to do so, I fancy the best way would be to
write on till one was a Httle unburthened, and then put
one's confessions in the fire. But in all these things, of
course, no one can judge for his neighbour. And what
ever you do, don't throw your confessions to me in the
fire, for it does my heart good to receive them ; it makes
me hope that I am sometimes useful, which is a sensation
I don't very often experience."
It was in the spring of 1827, (March 5 is the date
it bore,) that Keble wrote the poem entitled " Burial
of the Dead," which is printed, No. 50, in the Lyra
Apostolica. I hardly know whether I should not
assign it the first place in all the poetry he has left
behind him, for its beautiful rhythm, and most appro
priate measure, the finish of its language, but above
all these, for its richness, simplicity, and pathos.
Its charm is increased by knowing that it was Mary
Anne's funeral which it dwells on ; this gives a
reality and tenderness to such expressions as " cheer
ing whispers like thine own." Here, too, we find
what again and again, indeed almost uniformly, is
to be found, when he wrote in verse or prose on
such subjects, the expression of his belief in the
communion of the departed spirits of the blest with
the sorrowing survivors : —
" The deep knell dying down, the mourners pause.
Waiting their Saviour's welcome at the gate :
Sure with tlie words of heaven
Thy spirit met us there,

144 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
" And sought with us along th' accustom'd way
The hallow'd porch, and entering in beheld
The pageant of sad joy
So dear to Faith and Hope."
I can hardly suggest why he wrote " brother" for
"sister" in the stanza towards the close, perhaps it
might be consideration for those who would .first
see the poem, whom he would not touch too closely,
or it might be from his habitual shrinking from
putting himself, or his own special sorrow before
the public eye, that he would generalize this most
touching incident in the poem. I mention the cir
cumstance, however, as it might raise a doubt as
to the occasion of the poem, for which there is no
foundation. The poem immediately preceding in the same
volume is by Keble also, both bear the title of Be
reavement; judging only from internal evidence, I
should say this was also occasioned by the same
affliction ; it is most touching, but the strain of
thought which makes it so interesting to those who
know, or are studying Keble's nature, removes it
from the province of criticism.
This event, as might be expected, recalled Keble
from Hursley ; he could no longer separate himself
from his father and only surviving sister, and though
he would have preferred, I think, their joining him
at Hursley, yet he found this impossible.
" Many persons (he wrote to me) in my Father's place

Return to Fairford. 145
would rather perhaps have moved to me, but with his turn
of mind it is quite out of the question. I really think if
he had brought himself to it, it would most likely shorten
Ms hfe."
Circumstances prevented his brother, now a family
man, from coming to reside at Fairford ; indeed, could
that have been arranged, it would scarcely, I think,
have satisfied Keble's loving heart. So he made a
short visit to superintend the removal of his books
and other matters to Fairford, and as Hursley, for
tunately, could be provided for without much incon
venience, before the end of October he was again
settled under his father's roof, and thus sadly and
unexpectedly ended this pleasant episode in his life,
his charge of Hursley as Curate.

CHAPTER VIII.
RETURN TO FAIRFORD. — PUBLICATION OF THE
" CHRISTIAN YEAR." — 1826, 1827.
KEBLE returned to a home sadly changed by
the death of his sister. I do not think that in
the course of his life he sustained any loss which he
felt more acutely; beyond the privation to himself
in the death of a sister so loved, a companion at once
so bright and lively, so sensible and good, he could
not but be affected by the blow to his father, and
even more his invalide and suffering sister, now left
alone. Dyson, who visited at Fairford more often
than I did, and knew Mary Anne more familiarly,
wrote to me at the time, and I transcribe a part of
his letter, as in a few words he does her so much
more justice than I have been able to do in many : — ¦
" Oh, Coleridge, what a sad blow to her family, the loss
of Mary Anne Keble ; poor I must not call her after the
common usage, since she has so infinitely the advantage of
all left behind. John Keble sent me word of her loss soon
after it happened, and gave, as far as could be given so
early after the blow, a comfortable account of his father
and sister ; and to be sure, if the truest piety, and most
practical submission can give any comfort under such a
loss, they will have it, and I dare to say, will perhaps at
first feel it less, than their immediate friends will for them.

Return to Fairford. 147
But when I think what a loveable being she was in herself,
what an affectionate, gentle, guileless, and truly, simple
heart she had, and how little die cares and affection of
the best and tenderest men can supply the unwearying,
assiduous, self-denying, attachment of a daughter and sister,
I must be apprehensive of the effect upon her father and
Elizabeth from such a loss, a loss to be perceived not in
one stunning blow, and all is over, but to be felt daily
and hourly; I hope, however, and I pray for the best for
them." This was written early in October, 1826. The
letters which both Dyson and I received in the fol
lowing months shew that any apprehension of per
manent depression of spirits would have been ground
less ; all three of the survivors were strong in their
common faith, and the picture which Keble draws
of his aged father and sister, and unconsciously of
himself, under this visitation is most cheering and
instructive. He says to Dyson early in. November : —
"Amongst all the friendly letters we received, your's
seemed one of the most valuable, because you both of
you understood dearest Mary Anne so well, and loved her
so truly. Whenever we meet or hear from you, it will
seem something of an approach to her, and do not fear-
but by the blessing of God our meetings may be cheerful
and happy enough. I am sure you would think so, if you
could see how very comfortable both my father and Eliza
beth are, and how unaffectedly they enter into the spirit of
everything tliat is going on around them. Indeed, I don't

am

148 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
think you would see any difference in my father, and I
not sure that you would in Elizabeth."
It was an additional trial to the former during
this winter, that his increasing weakness prevented
him from discharging his duties at Coin personally,
to which Keble alludes in writing to me on the 22nd
of January, 1827: —
" You would like to see my father, how very quietly he
takes his suspension from clerical duties, which I used
always to fear would be too sharp a trial for him whenever
it took place. But it really does not seem to vex him at
all. He stays at home, and is quite contented and cheer
ful, in the office, as he says, of Chaplain to Elizabeth.
And Elizabeth's great delight is to do all the things that
Mary Anne used to do, and fancy her only gone away for
a short visit to a place where she is very happy, and soon
to shew herself again ; if one may call it fancy, which one
verily believes to be the real truth."
He speaks of himself as —
" Having swung comfortably back to his old moorings,
and certainly,'' says he, " it is more comfortable to have some
one to say ' good bye' to every night, and not to have to eat
and drink, and talk by oneself, only it remains to be proved
whether one who has been usually very idle, when he had
a good deal to do, will suddenly turn industrious, when his
sphere of action is so much diminished. Certainly the
days do not seem long, or irksome, but I am afraid that
is a very equivocal sign of industry."
But he was not idle; he was now supplying his

Return to Fairford. 149
father's place at Coin entirely, and as Coin was
three miles off, it occupied more of his time than
if he had been strictly resident. Moreover, that tax
was now beginning to be imposed upon him, which
in after life became very burthensome, the answering
the letters of those who consulted him in their re
ligious doubts and difficulties. This, it is well known,
is the lot of many distinguished persons; but it is
remarkable that it should have commenced with
him at a time when he would have seemed to be
so little known.
In the same letter, from which my last extract
was made, he tells me that he had gone "through
every word of an immense bundle of papers," the
remains of a deceased convert from Quakerism, with
a view to advising whether they should be published
or not. He asks for information on the question
whether the present Quakers maintained the opinions
of George Fox and Co. ; on which the answer in that
case seemed to him to turn. Again, and about the
same time, Cornish had consulted him on the con-.
scientious difficulties of a young lady.; and his an
swer is so sensible, that I cannot forbear transcribing
it; many persons, I believe, are occasionally in the
condition of the young lady; who may perhaps
profit by the advice : —
" I am clearly of opinion the young lady should discon
tinue these observances which seem to fret and distract her
so much. It seems like Fasting, which no one is tied to,

150 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
even by the laws of the Church, when it is bona fide against
their health : much less by any rule they can set them
selves. Clearly this is a case of melancholy from bodily
constitution, and the person should be recommended to
avoid all vows and singularities of every kind, as mere
snares. I seem to be speaking so positively about what
I must be ignorant of, that I am afraid my opinion is worth
even less than usual : but supposing the representation in
your friend's letter to be correct, and Jeremy Taylor right
in his Ductor Dubitantium, touching the management of
a scrupulous conscience, (p. 158 et seqq.,) I don't think
I can be very wide of the mark ; besides you have given
me a pretty broad hint in what way you mean to proceed,
and wish to be advised. At any rate a person of this tem
perament should be cautioned, as matter of duty, to refrain
from binding herself by anything like voluntary vows in
future; it is a mere snare, and should be repressed like
any other temptation. If she cannot be quite satisfied, (as
at times I suppose she will not,) with having broken through
her own rule in this instance, why cannot she add one sen
tence to her morning or evening devotions, relating to this
particular subject ; this, if made habitual, would, as it seems
to me, answer all purposes ; but she must not be fanciful,
and imagine one's prayers do no good if one is uncom
fortable all the time. I am sure it would be bad enough
with some of us, if we let present comfort come into our
calculations on that matter.
" Fairford, April 1%, 1827."
These are but instances ; he was busy too in his
theological reading, and acquiring that intimate know
ledge of the Fathers, which had such a marked in
fluence on his theological feeling, if I may use that

Return to Fairford. 151
term, and the habitual train of his thoughts on any
religious question. He was examining too, with an
interest awakened by the times, the foundation and
the limits of the alliance of Church and State, spe
cially of the right of the latter to interfere with the
former in matters purely ecclesiastical. In the letter
dated June 22, 1827, in which he mentions the pub
lication of "The Christian Year," he goes on to a
consideration which seems to me very interesting,
and which I know not whether any other writer
has ever noticed or enlarged on. It was clearly an
original thought to Keble : —
" The speculation," says he, " I referred to in a former
letter, and on which you desired more explanation, was
this. It seems clear to me, on reading over the Old Testa
ment, that the example of the Jews as a nation, is there
held out in such a way as to regulate and correct the re
ligious conduct of us Christians as individuals. The cove
nant with them collectively was a type of that made with us
separately ; and the faults into which they fell analogous to
what may be expected, and to what we really experience, in
our own private dealings with the Almighty ; this, I suppose,
is what makes the Old Testament, as a whole, so useful to
be considered by every Christian ; and in this I persuade
myself that I see a strong auxihary evidence of the truth of
both dispensations, as well as divers other useful corollaries,
if I could but develope them ; but it will take a great deal
of reading, thinking, and writing, to make out the matter
properly and usefully, and I have only, as it were, begun to
think about it. I mention it to you, that you may tell me

i S 2 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
if it seems absurd at first sight, or sufficiently done already.
I should like, if I could, to turn my hours to some account ;
but long habits of idleness are not got over in a moment.
I have been to Oxford once or twice lately, and it makes
one quite fidgetty to see what a bustle and business every
one is always in. I had half a mind to go to Bishop Lloyd
and ask him to set me some task."
He had a great regard and respect for that good,
and able, and original man, and he thought his ser
vices as Divinity Professor, especially the private
Lectures which he . instituted, extremely valuable.
The Bishop also was very fond of him.
Although Keble speaks of his idleness, which in
deed he was fond of doing, the preceding months of
the year had brought about the completion, and
finished the printing of " The Christian Year." Pur
suing my plan of giving all details which seem to
me at all interesting in respect of this great work,
I must go back a little in my narrative and my ex
tracts from his letters. In the beginning of February
he acknowledges to me the return of some part of
the manuscript which had been under my hands;
he does this with his usual overflowing kindness, and
I could hardly transcribe the passage, if I had not
to qualify it by adding, that I believe after all he
rejected, and with good reason, a very large pro
portion of my suggestions. The passage, moreover,
adds a fact worth preserving as to the adviser to
whom we owe the beautiful Verses on the "Occa-

Publication of '" The Christian Year." 153
sional Services," which, curiously enough, seem not
to have formed part of his original plan : —
" Now I must thank you with all my might for the Very
kind trouble you have taken about my concerns ; you have
set to work like a true, friend, and I shall always love you
the better for it, only I am afraid you have been taking
a good deal more trouble than the affair was worth. I have
set myself at work rather hardish to revise the MS., and
have made a good many corrections, one or two I hope to
re-write entirely; and I also want to add something on
each of the ' Occasional Services,' in pursuance of a hint
I had from Davison. I have done a few stanzas for the
Communion, and if I have a good spring-flow of rhyme, I
hope to be ready with the others, as far as the Commina-
tion, in a month or six weeks, and then I puipose to go up
to Oxford, and print without delay. I had wished to put it
off for a year for the sake of the vignettes, but my father
seems really anxious to have it done without loss of time,
and I think one should be uncomfortable, if one did not
try one's best to meet his wishes; at the same time, I am
quite aware of the defects you mention, and will do my
best to mend them. I shall, however, be the more easy in
not sending the rest ofthe MS. to you, as most ofthe pas
sages you have marked were places which I was before dis
satisfied with, and wished to alter ; in some few you have
not caught my meaning, as I beheve, through hurry, and
in some I differ in grammar or taste ; but on the whole, I
am exactly of your mind, and I hope to be a tolerable
substitute for you in the office of criticising the rest. My
theological plans, about which you enquire, are hardly
plans enough to be stated on paper ; they are mere schemes
floating loosely in my head. But when I have done this

154 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
job, and read one or two more of the Fathers, I hope to
tell myself something more clearly about it. Farewell, my
most dear friend.
"Fairford, Feb? 9, 1827."
The natural wish of his aged father to see the
work published before he died, made it now to him
an imperative duty to delay no longer ; from this
time he neither hesitated nor flagged in the prose
cution of the work. His mention of vignettes had
reference to a scheme, which he rather favoured at
this time, of illustrating the book, with the help of
some accomplished lady friends. Several vignettes,
as he calls them, were indeed drawn ; but he aban
doned this idea, which Cornish dissuaded him from ;
and thenceforward he always opposed anything ofthe
kind, though it was more than once pressed on him. -
I rather think he did not abide by the prudent re
solution he announces of sending no more of the MS.
to me for my criticism, for I possess a later and de
tailed acknowledgment, in which I was more sur
prised than pleased, to find that I had actually re
commended the suppression entirely of the verses
on the Tenth Sunday after Trinity. He meets this
very simply with the remark, that it was a special
favourite with some others of his critics.
On the 22nd of June, 1827, he announced to me
that my copy of "The Christian Year" was on the
road from Oxford, and on the next day I received
it. His announcement was short and simple, and

Publication of " The Christian Year." 155
without comment, and then he passed on, as he
said, "to more interesting affairs." I am certain
that he had not the slightest idea at the time how
important was the gift he had made to the world,
nor how decisive a step he had taken in respect of
his own character and reputation. We who had
watched the work from the beginning were some
what more enlightened, perhaps ; but we had not,
I think, fully comprehended the importance of the
volume ; we had, indeed, a very high opinion of it ;
we thought it would gradually win its way, and would
exercise a great influence on its readers, but we were
none of us prepared for its immediate success, still
less for such a success as befel it. I have lying
before me Mr. J. H. Parker's summary of tlie ac
count from the beginning to January, 1854; in this
period of less than twenty-six years I find 108,000
copies were issued in forty-three editions. The sale
of the work never flagged through the remainder of
his life ; and in the Memoir of Mr. Moor, to which
I have so often referred, a statement is made (espe
cially remarkable considering a circumstance to which
I must advert presently), that in the nine months im
mediately following his death seven editions were
issued of 1 1,000 copies.
After what I have said above of my critical suc
cess in regard to this work in the prime of my life,
I should be very unwise if in advanced old age I
were to venture on an elaborate criticism of it here.

156 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Indeed, it seems to me hardly the fit subject for
mere literary criticism as a volume of poetry. What
ever can be desired of that kind, however, has been
admirably done already by Professor Shairp, of St.
Andrews, in an " Essay on the Author of the Chris
tian Year," published at Edinburgh in 1866, and
those of my readers who shall be induced by this
notice to read that masterly little book, will thank
me, I am sure, for having referred them to it.
Yet the publication of " The Christian Year" was
such an event in Keble's life, and the work itself so.
interesting and important, that I venture to set down,
not with any system or order, what are rather my
personal experiences in the reading it, than anything
like regular criticism upon it. This may, perhaps,
be the way in which my remarks may be most use
ful, especially to young persons. I will say, then,
that it is one of those volumes of poetry which no
one should take up to read through at once, or as
a continued study ; few volumes even of miscel
laneous poetry will bear this ; but the very design
of " The Christian Year" protests against it ; it was
meant, and should be taken, as an accompaniment
to the services of the Prayer-book. It will be found
to have a special significance, if read as such ; and
for this mode of study and meditation, it is particu
larly fitted by two among other qualities. The first
that it is so wonderfully Scriptural. Keble's mind
was by long, and patient, and affectionate study of

Publication of " The Christian Year." 157
Scripture, so imbued with it, that its language, its
train of thought, its mode of reasoning, seem to flow
out into his poetry, almost, one should think, un
consciously to himself. They are always there, yet
never intruded. Many times, I may say for myself,
the meaning of what had been an obscure passage
in Holy Writ, or the true character and teaching of
an incident, has flashed on me in reading the verses,
of which it has been made the text for the day's me
ditation. I have heard of a clergyman in a rural
parish in Worcestershire who was in the habit of
reading, and explaining from the pulpit, in lieu of
an afternoon sermon, the poem for the Sunday ; and
I have no doubt such a practice, with proper com
ments, might be pursued with very good effect. It
has often struck me, what an excellent skeleton of
a sermon this or that poem suggests. The second
quality I would notice, is its almost inexhaustible
novelty ; whether this be owing to the depth of the
thought, the pregnancy of the language, or, as severer
critics have said, to the imperfect expression of the
thought, or to all combined, I will not undertake to
decide ; but speaking generally, I should say, read it
as often as you will, you will find it on each perusal
to contain or to suggest some new matter for reflec
tion. Take it up when you will, you are never likely
to skim through a poem, as one sometimes does with
what is familiar, however one may admire it ; some

158 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
thought seemingly new will arrest your attention,
make you pause, and set you upon consideration.
This is surely a great merit in a volume of poems
intended to serve in the way of a manual.
I would further suggest to a new reader of the
book, to remark on the vivid accuracy of Keble's
descriptions of natural incidents or objects. I think
Dr. Stanley has somewhere observed on this merit
in Keble's poetry in regard to what he had never
seen, the scenery of the East, and specially of the
Holy Land ; but we may all of us judge of it gene
rally in regard to our own country. He was short
sighted, and though he was fond of simple music,
he had not a keen or accurate ear for it. He com
plains in a well-known passage of the dulness of
his hearing to apprehend the full beauty of har
monious sounds ; yet whether as to objects of sight
or sound, his numberless descriptions are accurate,
not only in the general, but in the slightest and
most delicate features : he seems to have observed
them all, as true poets are sure to do, with a lover
like, and yet a discriminating interest ; and his lan
guage is never more definite and distinct than in
these passages. It is hard to forbear, but I must
not indulge myself in citations. There is still an
other circumstance, which I have always been struck
with, the happiness with which he spiritualizes all
that he describes of natural scenery, and how con-

Publication of '" The Christian Year!' 159
stantly he deals with it in this way ; one stanza I
cite, not so much as an instance, but as illustrating
my meaning : —
" He whose heart will bound to mark
The full bright burst of summer morn,
Loves too each little dewy spark
By leaf or flow'ret worn :
Cheap forms, and common hues, 'tis true,
Through the bright shower-drop meet his view ;
The colouring may be of this earth ;
The lustre comes of heavenly birth!'
Second Sunday after Trinity.
I am not now unfolding the beauties, or passing
judgment on the faults, of this wonderful book ; its
great, and rapid, and not less its enduring success,
it is not at first sight easy to account for ; it cer
tainly cannot be ascribed to its addressing especially
any one party in the Church ; although the opinions
of the author, whoever he might be, were declared
throughout with sufficient distinctness, yet the book
found favour equally with all ; it did not rest in
the beginning on the great name of its author ; for
some time its author was not known, and had it
been, he had earned no reputation in the world at
large which could have procured him such a host
of readers. When it ceased to be anonymous in
substance, party heat in the Church, and the very
distinction he had earned, might, one would have
thought, have diminished its general acceptance.

160 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
I have no reason to believe that it has, even to the
present time.
It is natural to ask to what cause especially is
this exceptional success to be attributed, and will it
still continue ? I trust that an affirmative answer to
the latter question may be given, founded on what
I believe to be the true answer to the first. Of
course the general success must be in a great mea
sure attributed to the general merits of the execu
tion ; without the intrinsic beauty of the poetry, no
success, or a very incomplete one, could have been
obtained by the greatest excellence in the design;
and, again, but for this last, the mere beauty of the
poetry would, I think, after a while, have only placed
the book on the library shelf with other volumes of
beautiful poems in the language, a classic acknow
ledged and little read, exercising no daily and per
manent influence. Now, as we know, a library book,
or a book of the house, is just what it is not; it
is rather a book of each person, and each room in
the house. The design of it is very simply stated
in the Preface. Keble wished to help towards the
establishment of " a sober standard of feeling in mat
ters of practical religion," and this by a work in
close harmony with, and constant reference to, our
Liturgy. In his title-page his motto is, "In quiet
ness and in confidence shall be your strength." But
this object, and this mode of obtaining it, both im
ply an appeal to a feeling, I believe, the most com-

Publication of "The Christian Year!' 161
mon and abiding in the heart of man, wherever ab
sorbing worldliness or inveterate habits of vice have
not overpowered it ; I mean the religious and de
votional sentiment. This may seem too flattering
an estimate of the human heart, but it must be re
membered, I do not speak of practice ; I do not
speak even of sentiment, that necessarily results in
a good life ; but of sentiment and feeling merely. So
limited, I believe the proposition to be true. How
much of the pleasure we all take in works of fic
tion is owing to the existence of this feeling in our
hearts. Those who shrink from the trials which
religion may impose, and those who feel willing to
undergo them, equally find their hearts excited by
the lively picture of suffering, or triumphant virtue,
though with regard to the former some bitterness may
mingle with the sweet ; and these two classes make
up the bulk of those who read. On the other hand,
speaking generally, how cold are we in comparison
to the story which tells us of the labours of intellect,
the perseverance or ingenuity of the discoverer, the
intrigues of the politician. And is not this because
the former takes us more out of what is purely
selfish, and brings us more close to what is religious
in our nature ? Now to this feeling in the human
heart " The Christian Year" makes unceasing appeal,
with a voice so earnest, so manifestly sincere, so sad
in its hopefulness, so unpretending as to the speaker,
yet so authoritative and confident as to the cause
M

1 62 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
and the subject, that for the time it is commonly
irresistible ; and to be so moved, as it is among the
purest, so unquestionably it is among the highest of
the pleasures which we are capable of enjoying.
This is an argument which I know must depend
for its acceptance mainly on the inward conscious
ness and feelings of those to whom it may be ad
dressed. And therefore I would ask any reader
gifted with an ordinary degree of poetical feeling,
what has been the effect of reading the verses for
the day in "The Christian Year" under favourable
circumstances of quiet and leisure ? I apprehend that
although immediately on the perusal, the thoughts
which it occasions will vary much with the past con
duct of the individual, in the end he will find he
has passed very much into that state of feeling in
regard to himself, which his conscience approves, and
towards his fellow-creatures and his Maker that in
which he would desire to be ; he will feel soberly
hopeful as to himself; loving, grateful, and reveren
tial towards his Maker. And is not this the greatest
happiness we can expect in this life. On these
grounds I explain the Volume's exceptional and
continued success, and I hope with great confidence
for its indefinite enduring. It would lead me too far
afield, if I compared its prospects on these grounds
with Herbert's poems, which, however justly admired,
and still studied by some, have certainly lost much
of their general popularity. In truth the two men

Publication of '" The Christian Year!' 16

o

were more ahke than their works, and what I have
said may be true of "The Christian Year," and yet
could not be truly said of " The Church."
Keble would not have assented to these conclu
sions : as Wilkes is reported to have said he was
no Wilkite, so Keble certainly was not a " Christian
Year" man. Of course I do not suppose that he
could think, or would profess, that it had no merits ;
like other modest men in regard to their own com
positions, he thought these over-rated ; and his taste
and judgment made him very conscious of its faults
in execution and finish ; but this does not ade
quately explain the position of his mind with re
gard to it; it is strange, but it is certain that he
always spoke of it, and that was seldom, with
something of sadness and dissatisfaction. I do not
think he often read it There were reasons for
this deeper than causes merely critical, and they
are worth considering ; the poems unavoidably paint
Keble's own heart; they flowed out from it upon
subjects which lay deepest and nearest to it, and
no one can read them without beheving all things
good of the author. Keble felt this ; he knew what
the picture displayed ; he knew it would be taken
for a faithful likeness ; he did not indeed fear the
charge of self-display, but he thought the picture
not true; he asked himself, was he then right in
exhibiting it ? and the good opinion of the world,
on which he knew a woe had been pronounced, was

164 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
to him with this impression a cause of real sorrow.
In his poem on the " Danger of Praise," in the Lyra
Innocentium, he says : —
" And ah ! to him what tenfold woe,
Who hides so well his sin,
Through earth he seems a saint to go,
Yet dies impure within."
I have no doubt he had reference here to himself.
Praise was at all times really painful to him. In
writing to him on his mother's death I had used
language, the particulars of which I do not recol
lect — but I spoke of him and his discharge of filial
duties as I sincerely felt. Dyson, it appears, and
some others in their letters of consolation, had written
in the same strain — in his answer to me, he says : —
" I am afraid I shall be able only to send you an unsatis
factory hurried sort of letter, but I would rather do so, than
let time run on, as I have done so often before, without
thanking you as I do from my heart for your kind consoling
letter ; kind in all respects except some partial expressions,
such as I would beg it of you as a kindness to forbear ; they
please me so well at first, that I am quite sure they are best
not thrown in my way ; and when I come to look at them
or think of them afterwards, they seem, as it were, to spoil
the rest of the letter : if you please, therefore, do not send
me any more of them."
To Dyson he says —
" Your kind letter came to me at Oxford at a moment
when I needed it, and proved, I assure you, a real comfort

Publication of" The Christian Year!' 165
to me ; indeed, I fear I was more delighted than I ought,
both with your letter and 2 or 3 others which I received
at the same time ; for it is humiliating to see, on reading
them over, how much undeserved credit one's friends give
one. But this will not bear talking about.''
It was the one subject on which ever after I was
obliged in writing to him to be very guarded in my
language, even when I wrote on occasions which
had excited my feelings of admiration strongly ; for
though he could not write otherwise than gently and
affectionately, I felt sure I had given him pain.
I have already printed an extract from his letter
to Mr. Pruen respecting the Dedication. That is
now very properly printed, I believe, in the Editions
which have issued since his death, but he never
would print it during his life. I remember when, in
1858, he allowed Mr. Parker to publish a handsome
Edition in small folio, I suggested, or, rather, asked
his permission for the printing it ; he would not ab
solutely deny me, but he yielded in language mani
festing so clearly his unwillingness, that it would
have been unkind to act on it, and I forbore.
In all this he was perfectly sincere, nor can I think
his feeling morbid, or unreasonable, though it may
have been, indeed was in my judgment, exaggerated.
The more pure and holy a man is, the more odious
will sin be to him; and beside this, the more en
tirely will he refer every successful resistance to
temptation, every good thought, all continuance in

1 66 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
purity to the special favour of God, and feel that it
calls on him for a more lively gratitude than com
mon ; so that every declension, through human in
firmity unavoidable, will come to his conscience em
bittered with the sense of special ingratitude ; sin in
one who feels himself so favoured will seem double
sin. This, I think, is the explanation of the decla
ration of St. Paul respecting himself, which I have
always looked on as perfectly sincere. I am not
comparing Keble, of course, with the great Apostle,
but the same principle of judgment applies to both,
indeed, to all good men ; and when they say such
things of themselves, though we may think them too
severe in their judgments, we should acquit them of
insincerity, and the miserable weakness of seeking
for compliments.
Keble always published " The Christian Year"
anonymously : at first the secret of authorship was
tolerably well kept, but it was a prisoner committed
to the custody of too many not to escape soon ;
however he availed himself always of the masque
as he pleased, and sometimes he played with it
amusingly enough. Not long after the publication,
an old pupil, Mr. Bliss, in writing to him, mentioned
the work, with some speculation as to the author;
it might be, intending only to sound him ; he an
swers, however : —
" I have seen the little book you mention, and I think
I have heard it was written by an Oriel man. I have no

Publication of '" The Christian Year!' 167
wish to detract from its merit, but I can't say I am much in
expectation of its cutting out our friend George Herbert."
I add, mainly for another reason, two notes writ
ten to a dignitary of the Church long after, who had
questioned him as to the use of the word "wilder-
ing " in the verses on the Fifth Sunday in Lent : —
" Ye, too, who tend Christ's wildering flock."
He says in answer : —
" My Dear  ,
"It is very little use being anonymous, if one is to
answer for the sense, or nonsense of all one writes just
the same.
"But do you not think that such a passage as Ezekiel
xxxiv. 12, in the Bible, and the mention of 'Christ's sheep
that are scattered abroad ' in the Ordination Service, joined
with the present state of Christendom, is enough to justify
and explain the word ?
"You know the 'C. Y.' (as far as I remember it) every
where supposes the Church to be in a state of decay.
" Ever my dear friend,
" affect17 yours,
"J. Keble."
To this there was a reply which I have not seen,
and to that this rejoinder : —
" Brooking near Totness,
- April it,, 1858.
" My Dear  ,
"As a proof that my conscience is not quite gone, I had
really put your letter up to be answered among others

1 68 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
when I left home for this place, and I now return its in
closures with many thanks. It is very pleasant to find so ,
much sympathy with one's own travelling thoughts, such as
they were in times past, or rather such as one wished them
to be.
"With respect to the word which gave occasion' to our
little correspondence, I find that according to Johnson
there is or was such word as 'wildering' or 'to wilder' —
only unluckily for me it is a verb active — the same as
to ' bewilder.' So it must be considered an error, and
' wandering ' or some such word must be kindly substituted
for it. I find it unluckily in the Oxford ' Psalter' also.
" I am always,
" My dear  ,
"Affectlyyour's, " J. Keble."
It occurs in other parts of the book.
In spite of his concluding sentence it will be found,
I believe, that the word " wildering " remained in all
the editions published in his lifetime, and the line
remains unaltered still. It happened to me more than
once to point out some inaccuracy of language, or
metre, admitting easily of correction ; he used to
answer not unkindly, but coldly, and intimated in
effect that it was not worth while to alter it. This
was the result, in great measure, of the feeling which
he had grown to entertain towards the book, as
well as of his constant occupation and the habit of
procrastination, which, of course,, did not decrease
with years. He seemed to me not unconscious of
the merits of the book, or of its probable usefulness ;

Publication of" The Christian Year" 169
but as if he half wished to disconnect himself from
it, and as if he would rather it had been the work of
some one else than himself. I have accounted for
this, which seems so strange, as well as I can.
In the first two editions, there were no verses on
what are called the State Services ; he did not regard
them as an integral part of the Common Prayer-book,
and I cannot now recall why he was induced to write
upon them. In the verses on the " Gunpowder Trea
son" he wrote a stanza, which on the first reading
might certainly lead one to suppose that he denied
the Presence of our Lord's Body in the Elements after
consecration. Nobody, however, who knew his opi
nions on this subject, (and they were expressed openly
again and again in public, and in private, and in print,
with earnestness and uniformity,) could believe that he
intended to be so understood ; and when challenged
on the subject, he always maintained that his lan
guage was misunderstood, and that any writer whose
sentiments were unquestionably known should in jus
tice have his language interpreted according to those
sentiments, where the meaning was not necessarily
opposed to them. He pointed out that the omission
of the word " only" after the expression " not in the
hands," raised the whole difficulty, and for that short
way of speaking he referred to passages in Scrip
ture, which are numerous, as authority. The matter
was mentioned to him several times, but he de
clined to make any alteration. Some weeks before

170 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
his death, however, a member of the Upper House
of Convocation, addressing it, quoted the lines with
approbation in the sense most commonly attributed
to them ; this he thought entirely altered the case,
and ought to prevent him from any longer over
looking or acquiescing in the misinterpretation, and
he determined therefore to accept an alteration which
had ,been before suggested by a friend ; he at once
directed that when a new edition should be called
for, this should be substituted for the old reading,
with a note, the substance of which he dictated.
At the time he did this, there was no illness upon
him which apparently threatened his life ; a fortnight
later, in a note to me about Mrs. Keble's state, he
says, " As for myself, I eat, drink, and sleep heartily,
so you need be in no care about me so far." His
anxiety was entirely about her, and both contem
plated that he would be the survivor. It pleased
God that he should die first. She to whom he be
queathed the copyright, naturally felt bound by the
injunction ; and when she bequeathed the copyright
to her nephew, she imposed it on him, — this direction
he of course obeyed.
It cannot be doubted, on these facts, that the
alteration was Keble's own as much as if he had
written it himself years before, and that neither Mrs.
Keble, or her nephew, could properly exercise any
discretion in the matter. It would have seemed a
matter of course for the latter to make it ; and in-

Publication of " The Christian Year." 171
deed, when thus explained, to be of little importance
in itself. Keble's belief, it must be remembered, had
been long and generally known ; no one could have
cited him as an authority for the doctrine which the
words were supposed to convey*; and it is difficult to
understand how any one, knowing his belief, could
desire to circulate as his any verses, with the inten
tion thereby of conveying something entirely contrary
to it, and acquiring thereby his authority for that
which he neither thought nor believed. I must not
be understood as making any insinuation of this kind
in regard to the Right Reverend Bishop, who, citing
the verse to grace the peroration of a speech, cer
tainly was, in fact, the immediate occasion of the
alteration. Nor, indeed, do I make any imputation
against any individual, or any Body ; what was said
and done in consequence — though! cannot approve
it — was, I doubt not, done upon grounds which seemed
justifiable to the doers.
To one who is familiar with Keble's diction in
"The Christian Year," there is no difficulty in un
derstanding how an ambiguity of expression might
occur; and to one who knew him long and well,
there is equally no difficulty in understanding either
why the alteration was not made before, or why it
was directed to be made at the time it was made.
I do not think it was a happy one; but that the
direction was given under improper pressure at a
time when his judgment was obscured, or his power
of maintaining his own opinion enfeebled (and both

172 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
have been insinuated,) I am concerned strongly to
deny; and those who impute that, I hope have not
considered how grave an imputation they cast on
his widow and her nephew, who must have known
if such had taken place. But there is the most
abundant evidence that this subject was perfectly
familiar to Keble, and had been on his mind for
years. By the kindness of a neighbouring clergy
man, the Rev. Samuel Walker, who had written to
him in February, 1863, I am able to print the
material part of a letter, which sets this at rest : —
" My dear Sir,
"I am obliged by your kind suggestion regarding the
passage in the 'Christian Year.' For many years it has
been a matter which I have thought of at odd times, and,
you will find in my dear friend Hurrell Froude's ' Remains'
that complaints were made of it near thirty years ago. I
thought of an alteration, but other friends over-ruled it,
Nor am I at present disposed to make any. Your's, I fear,
would hardly come up to what is wanted in the way of
doctrine. In a Note to the Preface of the Second Edition
of a book of mine, which nobody reads, on ' Eucharistical'
Adoration,' I have given my own commentary on it : that
it is to be understood, " Not in the hands dnlyf as against.
a carnal presence — vide S. John vi. 63 ; and the same idiom
recurs elsewhere.
" I have been shewn a passage in St. Bernard, but cannot
now recall it, which seemed to me to justify the expression.
" Do you not think that if it can be justified, it had best
be retained, were it only to help in shewing, that such say
ings do not necessarily bear such a meaning, and must be

Publication of '" The Christian Year!' 173
interpreted consistently with the writer's sentiments known
unquestionably in other ways ?"
Thus he wrote more than three years before his
death, and thus he could not have written, had he
intended to teach what those, who quarrelled with
the alteration, desired he should be understood to
have taught
There is a story recorded by Isaac Walton, regard
ing George Herbert's " Temple," which is very ap
posite, and I will close what I have felt compelled to
say on this painful matter, with repeating it It is
well known that in his last illness George Herbert
committed the manuscript to the care of his friend
Nicholas Ferrar, desiring him to publish it or burn it,
according as he should think " it might turn to the
advantage of any dejected poor soul," or not.
Mr. Ferrar, it is said, found that " there was in it
the picture of a divine soul in every page, and that
the whole book was such a harmony of holy pas
sions, as would enrich the world with pleasure and
piety :" he proceeded accordingly to publish.
"And this," says Walton, "ought to be noted, that
when Mr. Ferrar sent this book to Cambridge to be
licensed for the press, the Vice-Chancellor would by
no means allow of the two so much noted verses 
"Rehgion stands a tip-toe in our land,
Ready to pass to the American strand,"
to be printed.
No doubt the Vice-Chancellor thought them untrue

174 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
in fact, and likely to be injurious to the Church ;.
which at that time many might see reason for be
lieving. Nicholas Ferrar, however, felt that he had
no power to enter into such considerations, and the
controversy finally ended thus : " The Vice-Chan
cellor said, I knew Mr. Herbert well, and know that
he had many heavenly speculations, and was a divine
poet ; but I hope the world will not take him to
be an inspired prophet, and therefore I license the
whole book."
Nicholas Ferrar discharged a plain duty conscien
tiously, and the Vice-Chancellor acted with great
good sense.

CHAPTER IX.
PROVOSTSHIP OF ORIEL. — EDITION OF HOOKER'S
WORKS. — INDIA-HOUSE EXAMINATIONS.
KEBLE was called on as early as the fall of the
year 1827 to prepare "The Christian Year"
for a second edition ; —
" But" he says, writing to me in September, " I own I am
a little heartless about correcting ; if things don't come of
themselves, I very seldom find they come upon my calling
for them. Moreover, having done admiring tlie print and
paper, I find my own defects staring me more and more in
the face as I read ; so it is to be feared I shall not do much
for one while."
In answer I pressed him : —
" Pray let no tedium or laziness prevent you from buck
ling yourself up to the task with an ardent spirit ; they are
so good, and may do so much, that it is a duty to make
them as perfect as possible ; the fault is obscurity of ex
pression, here and there, and inadequacy in other places."
And then I went on into some particulars, but to
borrow Wordsworth's words : —
" 'Twas throwing words away ; for still
The wayward bard would have his will."
But now came an event which occupied his atten-

176 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
tion considerably for a short while. Dr. Copleston was
raised to the Bench as Bishop of Llandaff, and at the
same time appointed to the Deanery of St. Paul's ; he
had been Dean of Chester, and held that office with
the Provostship, a not unusual thing at that time. In
deed, there were shortly before two instances at Ox
ford, of Heads of Houses remaining such as Bishops.
But with Dr. Copleston this was quite out of the
question. Of course Keble's friends were anxious
to see him at the Head of Oriel, and I find both Dy
son and I wrote to him ; how Dyson expressed him
self I do not know, but I must have written un
guardedly and one-sidedly. He answered me thus,
after playing a little with the supposition that there
might after all be no vacancy : — " Fairford,
.Dec. 3, 1827.
" To say the truth, I should not at all choose, just at
present, to have to make up my mind on the matter you
propose to me ; a thousand things would come in, of which
no one but myself can possibly judge, and which would
make it rather a perplexing case to me. I am not so in
sensible to ambition, and that sort of thing, as you seem to
think me ; and many such letters as your last would, I am
afraid, help to make me more or less uncomfortable in re
tirement; however, in my cool and deliberate judgment,
which I am sure I am now exerting, this first Monday in
Advent, 1827, I must protest against the doctrine, that
a man may not be as truly and thoroughly useful in such
a situation as I am now in, or in any other which Pro-

Provostship of Oriel. 177

vidence may put him into, as if he moved in a command
ing sphere, and were what the world calls an influential
character. I hope, therefore, if there is a vacancy, and the
Fellows propose it to me, that I shall be able to see my
way clearly, and come to a right decision; at present I
really do not know what I should answer, and I repeat it
again, that nobody can judge for me. At any rate, if you
please do not mention my name as connected with this
subject till you are sure there is a vacancy. It must be
very unpleasant to Copleston, if he should hear of it ; and
I know the temper of Oriel well enough to be sure that any
interference, even of the most friendly and delicate kind,
would not be well received there. And now having, I
trust, set myself up by this last sentence in your honour's
opinion as a diplomatic man, and a man of the world, I
must thank you for your answer to my case." " Fairford,
fan. 14, 1828.
" My dear old Dyson,
" I have been looking to-day at your letter touching the
Provostship, and have condemned myself of great ungra
ciousness in not having answered it sooner. You will
have heard, I dare say, before now, how the matter is
settled; before I heard from you, I had consented to be
voted for, but finding there was great difference of opinion,
(all, however, in a friendly way,) and that I was very likely,
I may say almost sure, to be left in a minority, and feeling
moreover that a Headship at Oxford, though no doubt a
comfortable respectable concern, would by no means realise
my beau ideal of life, and most especially feeling that Haw
kins would come to the work quite free and disengaged,
while I should be every moment hankering after Fairford,
N

178 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Bisley, or some such place, — all these things considered, I
determined within a few days of the receipt of your letter,
to abandon all thought of the offer, and wrote to mypar-
tizans, if I may call them so, accordingly. And I have not
as yet begun to repent of doing so ; indeed, the more I
consider the affair, the more I am sure it was right ; and
I am very glad you agree with me in thinking so, for I am
quite sure you do. All here, and at Bisley, take just the
same view of the matter as I do ; and so 'tis all just as it
should be."
It was not, of course, with out-college men mainly
that he corresponded on this subject. Froude, it
seems, was the first who communicated to him the
Bishop's resignation. Keble says : —
"I must beg a few days for consideration before I
answer positively; I feel Hawkins's claim to be a very
strong one, and almost doubt whether it is right for any
body in the world to be set up, when his inclinations
are known."
And he closes this letter with a playful message : —
"My very kind love to old Hawkins, and tell him I
think we had better put the Provostship in commission;
Tyler take the red gown, Hawkins the work, and I the
play. Qu'en pensez vous ?"
Before, however, the end of 1827 he had made up
his mind ; and he writes thus to Froude : —
" Fairford, St. John's Day.
"Since you went away I have been endeavouring (for
without any proem, I think fit to enter at once into the

Provostship of Oriel. 179
selfish part of this letter) to look this matter of tlie Provost
ship clearly in the face, and find out exactly what I had
best do : all being brought into a sum, to the best of my
poor judgment, I think I must, with all possible love and
thanks to you and others who think as you do, decline it
altogether. I don't act thus quite upon pubhc grounds;
for to say the plain truth, as far as I can fancy myself
judging impartially in such a matter, I can make out but
very httle difference between H. and myself in positive
fitness for the thing ; in some respects I look on each of
us as fitter than the other. But I have great doubts whe
ther I should be so comfortable there as I am now; and
I don't suppose he has any doubt at all. I have calls, as
you know, elsewhere of a more pressing nature than he.
I don't fancy College a pleasant place for one's father
and sister to visit one at, &c, &c, &c. Now although
these objections might all give way, and ought to do so,
if one's College absolutely called upon one as the only
person, they come in with what I feel to be decisive force,
when there is a difference of opinion to encourage one's-
natural wish of getting over things as quietly as possible.
In case any sort of unpleasant feehng should arise, one
should immediately say, 'now this is my fault;' and in
a College, and among clergymen, a great deal should
surely be given up to ensure freedom from factions and
envy. And 'after all our superior advantages, Fellows
of Oriel are but men,' and Provosts in esse or in posse, not
many degrees superior in the scale of existence.
" Therefore, my dear fellow, don't think of me any more,,
but let good old Hawkins walk over the course ; and what
I say to you, I mean to say to him, to Plumer, and perhaps
one or two more, by to-morrow's post. And I feel myself
safe in this resolution, which I should not by any means

1 80 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
in the opposite one. For indeed I don't imagine my con
stitution at all charmed against the Oxford epidemic, rather
I should say, the Doctorial epidemic everywhere, if you
know what that is."
The kindly feeling these extracts express towards
Dr. Hawkins was, I am sure, returned on his part ;
and pleasant indeed it is to see a College Election,
which is commonly so exciting, conducted between
those, who might be considered opposing candidates,
in so amiable a spirit.
Keble wrote to me after the election was over,
on the nth of February, 1828, from Fairford. His
letter commences with affectionate expressions of
sympathy at two family losses, with which we had
been visited : —
" In both cases I know you have the best of consolations
in remembering the kindness and goodness of those who
are gone. It is a topic of comfort, that one feels more and
more, the longer one considers it, to be quite inexhaustible.
I dare say you were as glad as I was to meet once again
the good old Dyson, as fresh and as cordial as ever. It
was an unexpected delight, when I went up to Oxford to
the Oriel election, to get a thorough coze with him. How
comfortable he seems in his work of coin-inspecting and
date-hunting; and is it not rather a rare piece of philo
sophy, that he should take pleasure in the very expectation
of finding his work too great for him ever to finish. By
this time I conclude his wife has joined him again; and
perhaps I may run up and spend a day or two with them,
when Noel Ellison is there, he having promised to take
them in his way from the North to Huntspill.

Provostship of Oriel. 1 8 1
" I hope you don't think I did wrong in the Oriel affair.
If there had been anything like an unanimous call of the
Fellows, I certainly should have thought it right to go;
although I am not at all clear that the change would have
been for my comfort. As things were, I felt that I was
taking the safe side in declining all thoughts of the thing ;
it was not a clear call, and I hold it under such circum
stances always best to let well alone. I do not deny that
it might perhaps be more comfortable for me to have fuller
employment than I have, yet there must surely be enough
for one to do, if one had but a little regular industry, and
common sense. For instance, one's time would be well
spent in making a sort of analytical index for the next
edition of the Ethics, or the Ecclesiastical Pohty, or Bishop
Butler ; therefore I have made up my mind to leave off com
plaining of want of work, and to keep contented with my
Father and Elizabeth, until I have, as I said, a clear call
elsewhere." These letters shew distinctly under what influences
Keble acted in respect of the Headship of his Col
lege ; had there been no difference of opinion among
the Fellows, he would have obeyed their call, and
been, I am sure, gratified by it ; he would have
felt it a duty; and he was besides very fond of
Oxford, of literary society, and of young men ; but
he would have gone there with some misgivings, and
I can hardly think without some forebodings. Within
his College, as the father and friend and pastor, in
some sense, of his Fellows and the Students, I sup
pose no one could have excelled him. In these re-

1 82 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
spects I still think we were right in pressing him to
entertain the notion heartily, and to let his inclina
tions become known at once, and decidedly. We
were fond enough of him to think that in these re
spects, without any formality, or pretentiousness,
which might provoke opposition, or ridicule, he
would exhibit a sort of model to the University,
and contribute to make a great change for the
better in its tone and manners. But the duties of
the Head of a House in those days, even more than
now, extended beyond the walls of his College ; and
already there were symptoms, which could hardly
have escaped his penetration, of the troubles and
hot disputes which not long after began to agitate
the University, and not least the Governing Body,
of which he would have been a member. In these
it is too clear now that he would have been in a
minority, and perhaps the very reputation and per
sonal influence which I will suppose him to have
acquired, as well as his great ability, might have
made his position only the more painful to one of
his sensitive nature. Looking back on this passage
of his life, I cannot but recognise his non -election
as one of those disappointments, (how frequent they
are,) which one comes to regard as special blessings ;
disappointment I am bound to say as to this, to us
rather than to himself.
In the June following he visited me in London,
and I am tempted to make an extract or two from

Arnold — Churton. 183
the first letter I had from him after he had left me ;
this was not until August 21, 1828 : —
" What a shame ; it is the 2 iBt August, and I have not
written to thank you for the pleasant days you gave me
the beginning of June, for indeed I don't know when I
have enjoyed anything so much as my visit to you ; it is
a peculiar delight to find anything so domestic and com
fortable, so much Hke a country parsonage, as your house
in the middle of Law and London. I know we Curates
ought to enjoy ourselves a great deal more than we do ;
but, as it is, we are a sad grumbling race, and I doubt
whether f of us get as much pleasure from the trees and
shrubs we live always amongst, as you do from the snatch
you get in your Square for \ an hour before dinner when
you come home from chambers 
" I heard yesterday from Arnold, who seems to be fast
taking root at Rugby, and will soon fill the school I dare
say. I only hope he will not teach them his own notions
of right and wrong in politics. He says you have got some
of his Thucydides ; don't sit up at night correcting it when
you ought to be asleep. I charge you, rather send it to
me, if you find it an incumbrance, without minding what
the book may lose (or gain) by the difference between us.
I very much admire the sort of cheerful, straight-forward
way, in which Tommy sets out on his new career. I am
sure he is right, and much to be imitated in that, what
ever he may be in his notions about some matters.''
" Poor Churton, about whom I was so anxious when I
visited you, gets rapidly worse, and all hope is given up.
He will be a great and irreparable loss to his family and
friends ; but I never knew any one whom one could trust
on a death-bed, humanly speaking, with more confidence,

1 84 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
that all would turn out well. The only uncomfortable
thing is, that his case, (I am much afraid,) was mistaken ;
and he was sent to Brighton at a time when it was pro
bably one of the worst things he could do to go there.
However, I do not know why one should be vexed at
a mistake of this kind, more than at other circum
stances, in a friend's illness. It is setting up for more
infallibility than we have any right to."
In the September of this year, 1828, he went to
Lyme, and I mention this, because this was the first
occasion on which I find the name of his future wife
introduced into his correspondence. He went "to
convoy her and her mother" for her health : —
" She had been but drooping," he says, " ever since the
Spring, and I was not sorry myself for a bit of an excuse
to smell, taste, see, and hear my dear friend the sea, whom
I seem to like better and better every year of my life. I
staid three Sundays, and only came home Saturday week.
 I should very much like to have gone on when I
was so far West ; but I made a kind of vow to stay quietly,
bathe, write, and read, the first of which good resolutions
I performed much more accurately than either of the others,
to the great strengthening of my nerves, and damage of my
complexion. The Clarkes are not yet come home, but
Charlotte seemed much mended when I left them ; and we
are in good hope she will now be as well as ever again ;
she is never a very strong body. Lyme is a beautiful bit
of coast to my fancy, one can hardly imagine oneself so
near your red cliffs at Sidmouth, the colouring, form, and
everything is so very different. What most strikes me in
all these little absences of mine, is the amazing rate at

Mr. Peel, and the Oxford Election. 185
which Puritanism seems to be getting on all over the king
dom ; if I may judge from what I heard in church and out,
the old-fashioned way of Divinity is quite the exception,
not the rule, in that district."
This intimation of an unfavourable opinion in re
gard to the Party in the Church, which was then
fighting its way upwards to what I suppose it must
be admitted that it has now attained, a more than
equal share in numbers and influence, was not now
made for the first time ; his convictions on this sub
ject were very deep-seated in his mind, and were
occasioned by no personal, or political feelings ; but
by a conviction that it was in error on some points
of belief, which to him were cardinal ; and moreover
that it was in its effects adverse to that quietness
of spirit, humility and charity, which were to him
above all price. I need not say that these differ
ences created in him no unkind feeling towards
any individual, nor any insensibility to Christian
graces, wherever he found them.
The close of the year 1828, and the beginning of
1829, were agitated, it may be remembered, by the
vehement discussions of the Roman Catholic Ques
tion. Mr. Peel's change of opinion on that subject,
his voluntary resignation of his seat for the Univer
sity of Oxford, and then allowing himself to be pro
posed for re-election, produced a violent division of
parties there. I am not going into these matters now,
and I only mention them as they bear personally on

1 86 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Keble. He had been brought up in, and cherished
from conviction, opinions hostile to the proposed
concessions, and he was moreover one of that nu
merous body of men who thought it would be a
degradation to the University to return Mr. Peel,
"being in office especially," after what had happened.
I had been brought up as he had, and had not then
changed my convictions on the question, but I dif
fered with him in the conclusion he drew as to the
seat. I thought Mr. Peel unquestionably the best man
we could elect, and that having changed his mind,
as it was fair to presume, from a knowledge of facts,
which we had not, and a sense of necessity, of which
we could be no judges, there was nothing in his con
duct to warrant our rejection of him. While for the
University I thought, (as I should for individuals,)
it would be wise and manly to face the groundless
imputation of time-serving rather than dismiss the
tried and most efficient servant for doing what he
believed to be his duty. So I resolved to vote for
Mr. Peel, and I would not decline to be on his Com
mittee. My dear friend was very much distressed;
he wrote shortly, and with some heat, and evidently
in a wounded spirit. It must be remembered that
on all such questions his opinions were "stuff of
the conscience." How I answered him I do not re
member; but we met at the election on opposite
sides with perfect cordiality, and his letters resumed
immediately their old affectionate tone. Not, in-

Vicarage of Hursley offered and declined. 187
deed, that he changed his opinions. Writing to
Froude, in March, 1829, he says : —
"As touching politics, I am in the same mind that I
always was, that we could not do otherwise than we did
in the Election. But I am quite satisfied of Peel's good
intentions, though I cannot acquit him of weakness in giving
way for tlie reasons he states. Yet I give him credit now
for no ordinary virtue in keeping his place, when he had
given way. The upshot is, that I think well of him, and
ill of his measures ; and that I have very httle hope of
his ever recovering the confidence of the Tories again.'*
Towards the close of the year 1829, Archdeacon
Heathcote died, and Sir William offered Keble the
living ; it was a great temptation to him ; the cir
cumstances, and the manner of the offer touched his
heart ; he was fond of the place, and the people, and
affectionately attached to, and in point of opinions,
in entire agreement with, the Patron. Writing to
me, he says : —
" Another old friend I have lost, Archdeacon Heath
cote, of whom I knew less, but have every reason to think
highly ; indeed, to reproach myself for not having thought
highly enough of him whilst he Hved, now I know with
what grievous bodily pain he had to struggle in order to
maintain that composure of his. I was at Hursley a fort
night ago, considering and devising whether or how to
accept the Vicarage which was most kindly offered me;
but after a good deal of doubt, and some anxiety, I have
written to decline it finally. I like Heathcote as well as

1 88 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
ever, and am quite sure he will put it in good hands. I
thought of Johnny and Henry, and our reclinings and
wheelings under the large elms, now (most of them) no
more. I have accepted a Nomination as Examiner at the
India House, mainly in hope of getting a visit to you, and
now the rogues have fixed it to the 31st March, when I
fear you will be away. But if we live till November, per
haps we may make it up."
Thus he seemed to have extinguished all hope of
his ever becoming Vicar of Hursley, because he
would not quit the care of his father ; in his place
the Archdeacon's son was presented, the Rev. Gil
bert Wall Heathcote, a man much younger than
himself ; he was presented absolutely, and there was
no reason to anticipate another opportunity of bring
ing Keble there.
The India House Examinations, of which he speaks,
were instituted under an Act of Parliament passed in
1826, (the 7 G. IV. c. 56,) with the object of supplying
more Civil servants for the East India Company than
Haileybury was found able to educate. Oxford and
Cambridge were to nominate each two Examiners,
who should examine candidates at the India House
in March and October in each year, and Keble
acted in this capacity for the years 1830 and 1831;
in the former year I find among his colleagues the
name of the present Bishop of St. David's. It seems
to have been an office which the Universities filled
with men among the most distinguished of their

India House Examinations. 189
members, and to which such men were well pleased
to be appointed. The present Bishops of St. Asaph
and Llandaff, were among them. The appointment
of Keble was a matter of considerable interest to
me, in the hope it gave me of seeing him more often
in London.
His letters were somewhat less frequent at this
period, but when he wrote, it was in a light-hearted,
affectionate strain, as usual. Thus he begins to me
on one occasion : —
"My dear Friend, — 'What unknown correspondent is
this.' say you to Mrs. J. T. C, before you break the seal.
' Oh,' says she, ' I think I have an indistinct remembrance
of the hand. Do break it open and see.' 'Well, I have,
and he calls me " dear friend ;" let's look to the end of the
letter. Oh, Keble : aye, I think I do remember such a
name, but the creature used me so ill in not answering
my friendly enquiries for half a year together, or more,
that I am almost inclined to have nothing more to do
with him.' AU this, and if there be aught worse which
peremptory justice may dictate, I humbly acknowledge
myself to have deserved at your Worship's hands, for I
really have no excuse. Our health, thanks to our constant
Preserver, has continued as usual."
Then he goes on to tell me of his family, and
a visit he had been paying at his brother's : —
" Tom," says he, " and I set to work and gave Httle Tom
a regular lecture in Toryism and High-Churchmanship
in a large folio Clarendon with prints ; he snaps at all the
Roundheads, and kisses all the Cavaliers; moreover, he
has a great opinion of Edward VI., but is a little perplexed

190 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
to know whether Popery is dead or no. As for his sister,
she is all fat and fun, and does not trouble herself with
Politics yet. And yet for all these good things, I have
been too cross and lazy to write a friendly line to my kind
host and hostess and Godchild, and all in whom I am in
terested in Torrington Square ; but I am really ashamed,
so do not be too hard upon me."
According to his promise, he came to us in Oc
tober for the India House Examinations. He talked,
as he had written, in great admiration of Miller's
new volume of sermons ; and those who are de
sirous of following his judgment in such matters
may like to be told that his favourite sermons were
three, those against judging by comparisons, on
Family Worship, and on the fiftieth Psalm ; these
he was desirous of reprinting in a cheaper form for
the use of the poor.
This, it will be remembered, was the winter re
markable for the formidable agrarian riots in the
Western counties. He had now been for years an
attentive and honest observer of the condition of the
labouring classes, and their feelings. I was one
of the Counsel for the Crown who attended the
Special Commission into Wiltshire, and had written
to him my impressions from Salisbury. I will not
give the whole of his answer, but it is worth while
to extract a portion : —
" We have been very much taken up ever since the end
of November with talking and thinking of the tumults afore-

Improvement of the Condition of the Poor. 191
said. I am not inclined so much as you are, I think, to
lay the blame of them on the farmers ; no doubt their in
solence in many cases, and their extortion in some, has
aggravated the tendency to riot ; but I am more and more
satisfied that old Malthus, hard and vulgar as he is in many
things, and much as my father and Southey taught me to
dislike him, has hit the right nail on the head ; and that
something of this sort sooner or later was the infalHble fruit
of the 43rd Eliz."
He was against all arbitrary or extorted increase
of wages beyond what the fair market price of pro
duce would enable the farmers to pay; and relied
for improvement in the condition of the labourers
on a gradual emigration, accompanied by a gradual
repeal of the Poor Laws as regarded able-bodied
men and children.
It will be seen how much this agrees in substance
with .what not long after was actually done, and no
doubt with good effect ; but I cite the passage
rather for the sake of shewing how he could cast
aside in the pursuit of truth a very strong prejudice
— and few could have a stronger than he had against
Malthus. His was exactly the mind, which turned
with something like disgust at one or two of the
leading positions of that writer's celebrated work.
He was very intent upon this matter, and I find
a letter to Dyson, from which I shall have to make
an extract immediately, is written on the blank leaf
of a printed sketch of his " Plan for the Gradual

192 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Amendment of the System of Parochial Relief in the
Southern Counties of England ;" the principle of his
scheme was the promotion of emigration, and the
means were mainly the empowering of parishes to
borrow money on the rates ; but I notice that he
had not overlooked, what, in legislation on such
matters as relief of the poor, and the education of
their children, seems too commonly forgotten, the
broad distinction between the South and North of
England. The letter to which I have just referred relates to
a totally different subject. My readers will remem
ber a letter written at the close of the discussion
about the Provostship of Oriel, in which, among other
possible and proper employments for his time, Keble
spoke of the preparation of an Analytical Index to
the "Ecclesiastical Polity;" he was now called on
to undertake the more worthy employment of editing
for the Clarendon Press a new edition of the great
work itself. What he did upon this call, and how
he did it, are now well known ; but in such a matter
I think it will be interesting to follow his course by
steps, and to see how, from a very inadequate con
ception on the part of the Delegates in the first in
stance, he was enabled to work out to a great ex
tent his own views, and to vindicate both the book
itself and the author from much ill-usage and mis
conception. Keble had been an enthusiast about Hooker from

Edition of Hooker's Works. 193
his early youth ; the great man's connection with
Corpus, and the relics relating to him, preserved in
our Archives, (as a certain special portion of the
Library was called,) with which Keble and his brother
as early as 18 16 had busied themselves, helped to in
crease this feeling ; partly it was what may be called
political ; partly, and I think for the greater part, it
was religious : if he could have been bitter in any
thing, it would have been in his condemnation of the
old Puritanical spirit, which seemed to him alien from
the better' spirit of the Church of England, as he
shaped her to his own imagination. The pilgrimage
to Hooker's grave with Tucker was among his youth
ful indulgences; and he wrote, in 18 17, standing by
it in a silent shower, that beautiful sonnet, which will
be found among his early poems. The editions ex
tant of the works were quite unworthy of them, in
accurate in the text, and inconvenient in the use ;
moreover, he had reason to believe, on better than
the common evidence, that they were, as to im
portant parts, very corrupted. I have no doubt it
was a delight to him to be invited by the Delegates
of the Press, through Cardwell, one of them, to un
dertake the office of Editor.
On Dec. 18, 1830, he writes to Dyson thus : —
" I heard from Cardwell the other day that a new edition
of Hooker is in contemplation at the Clarendon, and he
wants me to undertake it ; I don't very well know what
such an undertaking implies ; but he says it will be a mere
O

194 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
reprint, he thinks, if I decline it : so I think of trying it, if
I can get you and Tom to help ; or rather I should like for
you, most venerable, to be the editor, and for Tom and me
to be under-strappers ; and if you will allow me, I will pro
pose this to Cardwell. At any rate, I wish you would give
me your opinion as to what is wanted for a good edition of
Hooker, and then I shall be able to judge whether I can
decently undertake it. I am still in abeyance about the
Psalms, and waiting for a good opportunity of communi
cating with the Archbishop, or rather, I should say, I shrink
from writing to him, because I feel sure that in his extreme
caution he would damp my project at once. However,
I suppose I shall take courage some day. We are full just
now of political, or rather rural economy ; and emigration
seems the order of the day among us. I have got a little
scheme with regard to that, which I should like much to
have your opinion on. In short, there is no end of the
things I have to talk over with you ; indeed, how should it
be otherwise in these times with two such great politicians.
I was much amused at Oxford to hear the old Liberals
talking rank Jacobitism the other day. L  L  , I un
derstand, wishes for a military government. And to con
clude, be the constitution what it may, you are hereby
wished a merry Christmas and a happy New Year, and
may it not pass away without our exchanging visits. And
so we all rest your's and your Lady's very affectionates, " The Kebles."
He writes again to Dyson on the 18th of January,
1-831, very shortly : —
" The purport of this is rather to ask you, bond fide, will
you help me about Hooker ? And if you won't, will you

Edition of Hooker's Works. 195
give me a little hint or two, what one had best do ? You
see I have accepted Cardwell's proposal, thinking I could
not do worse than nothing, and he said the choice was
between us two — me and nothing. The smallest donation
in the way of advice, &c, will be thankfully received.
I must be ready with a proposal to lay before the Dele
gates by the end of this month, when I go to Oxford to
preach ; verbum sat sapienti."
I do not know what answer Dyson had sent him
to the first of these two letters ; but it is clear from
that which now follows, that to the second he had
sent one full and well considered. And it is satis
factory to know that in the end both the haste and
the scruples of the Delegates were overcome, and
Keble was allowed to pursue his own course, and
produce an edition worthy of the subject-matter,
and of all the parties concerned in the publication.
"Mb. 10, 1831.
"My dear Dyson,
" Many thanks for your welcome letter of ' Advice to a
Middle-aged Editor,' full of most useful hints, and many
more thanks for your kind offer of assistance. I drew up
a proposal which Cardwell laid before Messra the Delegates
(a most disagreeable word, for it puts one in mind of Paris,
Poland, Brussels, Ireland, and everything that's whiggish
and disagreeable), and being constructed in a great measure
from your hints and Tom's, it was for the most part ap
proved ; but they are in a hurry to get out the book, some
varlet of a dissenting edition being now in possession of
the pubHc ear, with notes about as apt for Hooker as
Voltaire's are for Pascal : for which reason they demur

196 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
to the enquiry into the genuineness of the last three books,
which they think would take up too much time ; and this
I mind the less, as I am not sanguine in expecting to make
anything out on the subject. Moreover, whoever ventures
to question the said genuineness must be prepared to do
mortal battle with Henry Hallam, Esq., of Constitutiono-
Middle-Ageo celebrity; who I find fancies he has settled
the matter in one round sentence. And this I take. to be
one reason why those cautious mortals decline the subject ;
though they say nothing about it. If one could make out
anything, it might come in an additional volume, with
a thorough good index ; which, as things are, is more than
they must expect. Now the drift of all this is, to tell you
how much you will help me if you will only put down any
historical matter which strikes you as useful to illustrate
any passage. I say 'historical,' because I think that is
what you will like best: but contributions in any other
kind will be most thankfully received. Tom has begun
an index to the Scripture quotations, and I am correcting
the text, and verifying quotations as far as I have the
means of doing here; also dividing the whole into para
graphs ; this Tom has done long ago ; and if we agree we
shall think ourselves correct. As to ' the Christian Letter
of certain English Protestants, with Hooker's MS. Notes,'
which you wrongfully detain from Tom, and about which
you keep such a determined Old Bailey sort of silence in
your last epistle to me, I am disposed to think the best
way will be to embody the valuable part of the said notes
in our lower margin, as occasion may require. I quite
agree with you on the desirableness of a general view of
the Writers and Books against which Hooker had to write
(and perhaps of those who preceded and immediately fol
lowed him in the controversy, Whitgift, Bridges, Covel,

Edition of Hooker's Works. 197
Bancroft, &c), but will you write it for us ? I much fear
it will be beyond our caHbre. Well now, my dear Mrs.
Dyson, I think you must be perfectly satisfied with the
quantity of work we have assigned to that lazy Vicar of
yours. I am not without hopes that the mere anticipation
may serve as a sahne draught to drive away his cold, and
clear his head ; but we shall be glad anyhow to know how
he is going on."
I perceive towards the close of the same letter
he indicates in a playful yet determined word his
opinion upon the holding a living on the term of
resigning it in favour of another — an opinion he had
probably derived from Bishop Wilson, a great au
thority with him at all times, — and I will insert it
in a parenthesis, though foreign to the present mat
ter. He says, " I hear that Noel has been accept
ing a living to hold ; please to bite him well when
y®u write, there's a good Jerry."
From this time he was fairly engaged on the
work ; what assistance he received from Dyson from
time to time I am not able to state specifically,
though I do not doubt it was very valuable ; but it
is certain that from his brother, whose zeal in the
matter was equal to his own, he received much, and
important. But it was a work of years. The pub
lication was not until 1836; and this could scarcely
be otherwise, considering the absolute necessity he
was under of frequent reference to public libraries,
and the difficulty he experienced in leaving home
for the purpose : this he never liked to do, and

198 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
scarcely ever did, unless his brother, or some inti
mate friend of his sister's, could take his place during
his absence.
In the letter from which I have last extracted, he
makes a free and playful allusion to Mr. Hallam, who
had pronounced a clear opinion in favour of the
authenticity of the three last books as we have them.
It will be seen by Keble's Preface, that at last in
substance, though not professedly, he did not shrink
from "the mortal battle," which he speaks of, with
that great authority. He was in possession of evi
dence, in particular as to the sixth book, which
Mr. Hallam, it is clear, had never seen, and which
was really all but demonstrative. To this, indeed,
he yielded in later editions of his History. I must
refer to Keble's Preface for a full account of this evi
dence, but this part of it may be shortly stated thus :
— Hooker had sent the Sixth Book in manuscript
to Cranmer and Sandys for their criticisms ; they
made and returned them ; these shewed, both by
the catch- words prefixed to nearly all the notes,
and by their own tenor, that they were written upon
a text different in itself, and on a different subject
from the Sixth Book as we have it. But the con
troversy, if so it may be called, furnishes an instance
how dangerous it is to rely in matters of this sort on
conclusions drawn from intrinsic evidence only. Mr.
Hallam says, "The intrinsic evidence arising from the
work itself, on which in this branch of criticism I am

Edition of Hooker's Works. 199
apt chiefly to rely, seems altogether to repel every sus
picion a." Keble, to the credit of his critical acumen
be it said, before he had seen the document to which
I refer, "had always suspected" that other papers,
which Hooker had left behind him, had been sub
stituted for the genuine Sixth Book ; " seeing it is so
little to the purpose, the last fault with which one
should suspect anything of his to be chargeable."
It will be worth while to trace him in his progress
in this important work from his letters.
As early as July 6, 1831, writing to me from
Fairford, after describing the difficulty under which
he laboured as to leaving home, he communicates
to me the discovery of the document I allude to
above : —
"I have met with one thing in C.C.C. Library, which
has proved to be more interesting than I expected, viz.
some notes by Hooker's friends, Cranmer and Sandys, on
the MS. 6th Book of the E. Polity, which he had sent to
them to criticize. They are many of them merely verbal,
but even those have their interest, not merely as reliques,
but also from the sort of light they throw on the tempers of
the three friends, and the terms on which they mutually
were. But some few of them are full of matter and very
sensible, and they prove to demonstration, I think, that the
6th Book, as we have it, is by no means R. H.'s ; at least, if
it be his, it is a mere collection from other papers, which
he may have left, substituted for the genuine 6th Book. This
I have always suspected, seeing it is so little to the pur-
* Constitutional History, vol. i. ch. iv. p. 237, 1st edit

200 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
pose, the last fault with which one should suspect anything
of his to be chargeable : and to my mind these papers en
tirely prove it."
On Oct. 29, 1832, writing to Dyson, he says : —
" Did I tell you that Cotton (of Ch. Ch.) is collating the
Hooker MSS. in Dublin Coll., and pronounces them very
valuable ? Have you any friend in London who could help
me at the State Paper Office? I think it possible there may
be some correspondence about the latter years of Q. Eliz.,
which may throw light on the history of the book. Also
how am I to find out what became of Lord Conway's
Library, or Bp. Andrewes', or any other of the Libraries,
which Isaak Walton mentions as having contained copies
of the missing books. In consequence of Cotton's state
ments, the Delegates have allowed an indefinite time to
go on with Hooker ; which is very convenient, as I have
only bits and snatches of time to employ on it."
In December, 1832, writing to Cornish, he says : —
" I don't seem able to tell you much of our old friends.
Our very old friend Dick Hooker grows more slowly than
one could have expected ; the fault whereof I am willing
to throw not so much on my own indolence as on Tom's
occupations, which hinder him from coming here, and
therefore hinder me from going to Oxford, and I am now
at a point where I cannot get on without libraries."
On Dec. 3, 1834, he writes to me from Fairford :—
" As for Hooker he plods on, rather slow than sure : we
are just now at the Athanasian Creed, i.e. not half through
the 2nd volume. It would be pleasant work if one had the

Edition of Hooker's Works. 201

command of libraries, but as I have been forced to do it
by fits and snatches, it is anything but satisfactory."
In January, 1835, writing to Cornish, he says : —
" My friend Dick H. gets on much more slowly than I
could wish. I am only as yet in the part about Baptism, in
Book V. ; and let me advise you, as a friend, not to under
take editing Hooker, till you have read a good lot of the
Fathers." In August, 1835, writing to Froude, he says : —
" As for myself I am now all through Hooker, except
about \ a dozen references in some of the Opuscula, and
must begin forthwith to discuss the PreHm. Dissertation,
in which N. says I must give a view of Hooker's views.
But this will go terribly against the grain; and, indeed,
I sometimes feel as though I were utterly incapable of
it. Such is my feeHng this very evening, owing in part,
I imagine, to the oppressive drought and heat of the day :
but I must set doggedly to work, if I can, to-morrow. I
am more and more satisfied that Richard was in most
tilings a middle term between Laud and Cranmer, but
nearer the former; and also that he was in a transition
state when he was taken from us ; and there is no saying
how much nearer he might have got to Laud, if he had
lived twenty years longer. His notion of Regal, or rather
State, power would rather have stood in the way, and so
perhaps would his dishke to anything approaching to Jus
tification by inherent grace. But in the great point of the
Sacraments, as I conceive, he was almost or entirely with
us j if such an expression be not ludicrously presumptuous."
In Sept 1835, he writes from Oriel to Dyson : —
"I have been plodding on with Hooker, and have at

202 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
last, after a sort, finished the notes, and begun the Editor's
Preface, in which I am now got to . the eighth Book, and
therefore shall soon, I hope, have finished the critical part
of it ; but I am doubting whether or not to attempt a theo
logical part, i.e. a kind of precis of Hooker's views on the
great subjects ; after the manner of those which the Bene
dictine Editors, I believe, adopt in their edition of the
Fathers. Newman says I ought to add something of this
sort ; I doubt both my ability and my leisure, but one can
but try ; and it is a satisfaction to think, that if the trial
fails, it is but putting so much of the MS. into the fire,
and the rest will do."
Finally, on March 17, 1836, he tells Dyson: —
" I have this day sent my last sheet of the Hooker Pre
face to the press, i.e. the correction of it, so that nothing
remains but the index, which will take a few days lick
ing into shape ; the matter of it is all ready : wish me joy
of this, although I expect to be pelted with plenty of
hot water, for certain views which I have given in the
Preface." I have thought it well to be thus minute as to
his progress in this labour, and the difficulties which
beset it. Its importance to the Church of England
can scarcely be over-estimated. All will agree, I
presume, in the advantage of having the text of
this great work diligently collated with the best edi
tions, briefly and carefully annotated, with a verifi
cation of the references, and made more conveniently
readable by the breaking it up into numbered para
graphs and sections, with a running title of the chief

Edition of Hooker's Works. 203
topics. No Father of the English Church has now
had more justice done to him in all these respects
and no one, I believe, more needed it, none more
highly deserved it.
But it would have been discreditable to the Uni
versity, if the Delegates, when they were reprinting
Hooker, had limited the Editor, as it will have been
seen was at first proposed, either as to the extent
of his labours, or the time within which they were
to be accomplished. They made an excellent choice
of their editor ; and although, it must be admitted,
he tried their patience considerably, they made allow
ance for his difficulties, and never withdrew their
confidence. In a series of English Classics which
they are now printing, the first book of the " Eccle
siastical Polity" is rightly included, and I have had
the pleasure of reading the masterly Introduction
of the editor, Mr. Church : it seems clear from this
that the lapse of thirty years has brought to light
little, if any, new matter, and detected Keble in
no substantial error. His edition, the Clarendon
Edition, still remains, and probably will remain
the standard one ; and this is a distinction which
Oxford cannot lightly afford to lose in regard to
the works of her great son.
It has been seen how Keble speaks of his Preface ;
when one considers the difficulties under which he
wrote it, it is a really astonishing work ; and it shews
how much knowledge, and in how many various

204 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
ways, he had not merely acquired, but assimilated
and made his own. It was not to be expected that
in one part of it he would please all parties in our
unhappily divided Church; and it would be pre
sumptuous in an ignorant person, as in these respects
I am, to pronounce a judgment on the controversies
he dealt with, or his account of the agents and move
ments in it. But looking on it only as a narrative,
and as a piece of reasoning, I cannot suppress the
feeling of satisfaction I have as an old Scholar of
Corpus, that it fell to the lot of another Scholar
of the same House to do this act of justice to the
greatest name upon our list, and that he was en
abled to do it so consummately.

CHAPTER X.
PAIGNTON. — POETRY PROFESSORSHIP, AND LEC
TURES. — ASSIZE SERMON, 1 833. — THE TRACTS. —
DEATH OF MR. KEBLE. — 1 835.
T HAVE thought it better to set down in one
•*¦ place all that it seemed desirable for me to
state in regard to the Edition of Hooker's works,
and in so doing, I have necessarily departed from
the order of time in my general narrative ; to this I
now return.
I am entirely indebted to the Memoir to which I
have so often referred, for my knowledge of the par
ticulars of the incident which I am about first to
speak of, and I take the liberty of transcribing the
passage a. Mr. Moor says : —
"In the year 183 1, when Mr. Keble was Hving with his
father at Fairford, the present Lord Bishop of Exeter of
fered to him the valuable and important living of Paignton
in Devonshire, considering him even then to be ' the most
eminently good man in the Church,' as his Lordship has
¦ I may state here that this Memoir is not, I believe, printed sepa
rately, but is included with other.matters in a handsome volume pub
lished by Mr. Savage at Winchester, entitled "The Birth-place, Home,
Churches, and other places connected with the Author of 'The Chris
tian Year,' illustrated in Thirty-two Photographs." 2nd. Ed. 1867.

206 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

kindly informed the writer of this Memoir; adding that
'the conscientious scruple of the Patron, who had pur
chased that presentation, and who felt doubtful of the
propriety of his acquiring Church patronage by such pur
chase,' made him feel it his ' duty to use the utmost cau
tion in selecting a person to fill it.' "
Nothing could be more flattering than this offer,
but the circumstances I have already stated, of
which it is to be presumed the Bishop at the time
was not aware, of course made the acceptance of it
out of the question. In after life, when a warmer
climate than that of Hursley, and close vicinity to
the sea became necessary for Mrs. Keble's health,
and very useful for his own, a residence on the shores
of Torbay might have been very beneficial ; but it
is still impossible to regret that he could not accept
Paignton. In the same year he was without any opposition
placed in the vacant chair ofthe Poetry Professorship.
This is usually held by two successive elections for
ten years, and when it was vacant in 1821, his friends
were very anxious that he should be elected, nor
was he indisposed to it ; but as soon as he heard
of the intention of the late Dean of St. Paul's to
become a candidate, he would not permit his claim
to be pressed. It would have been difficult to per
suade him to be a candidate in any contested elec
tion ; but Milman and he were on very friendly
terms, and Keble felt that his talents, acquirements,

Paignton. — Poetry Professorship 207
and distinction, entitled him to any honour of that
kind which the University could confer.
Keble now was not without scruples as to his own
qualifications for the office, and the passage I am
about presently to cite from one of his letters seems
to shew that a chance expression of mine, favouring,
I fancy, his own disposition to undervalue himself,
may have contributed to create, or increase these
scruples. However they were wisely overcome. In
December, 183 1, dating from Fairford, he says to
me: —
"lam not very particularly sanguine about this Profes
sorship, to which my friends have been so kind as to nomi
nate me ; I feel as if the Latin wouldn't come ; and what
is worse, I have not yet come to any resolution on the sub
ject to lecture on ; if anything occurs to you, the smallest
donation will be thankfully received. I imagine I don't
begin 'till when I please in Lent Term.' "
It was perfectly well known when his predecessor's
term of office would expire, but it should seem that
Keble had thought so little of the succession, as to
be still at sea as to the subject on which he would
lecture, if elected. However he must have made up
his mind without much delay, as he delivered his
first lecture in February, 1832, and on the 13th of
that month, in the letter to which I have already
alluded, he gave me this account of his design for
tlie whole course : —
"I was at Oxford the beginning of this week 'reading

208 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
in,' — it is uphill work to me, and you never said a much
truer thing than when you told Tom I was ten years too
old for the task. However, I must do my best now. My
notion is, to consider Poetry as a vent for overcharged feel
ings, or a full imagination, and so account, for the various
classes into which Poets naturally fall, by reference to the
various objects which are apt to fill and overpower the
mind, so as to require a sort of relief. Then there will
come in a grand distinction between what I call Primary
and Secondary Poets ; the first poetising for their own relief,
the second for any other reason. Then I shall $ao-a.vifa
one after another, each of the great Ancients, whom in
my Royal Authority I think worthy of the name of a Pri
mary Poet, and shew what class he belongs to, and what
sort of a person I take him to have been. From which
will arise certain conclusions as to the degree in which
the interest of poetry depends on the character of the
writer, as shewn in his works ; and, again, as to the rela
tion between this art, and practical goodness, moral and
religious. In the whole affair, I think I have hit on the
truth, and I expect to interest myself; but there my ex
pectations pretty nearly terminate ; and as to Latin, it will
be dyairrjrov, if I do not disgrace myself. However, I do
not like the notion of making it English, even if the Doc
tors would allow it ; because of the moral certainty of a large
importation of trash, which ought not to be on the Univer
sity account ; and also because I think Latin would suffer
more than Poetry would gain."
I venture here to remind my readers of the letter
to Froude of September, 1825, from which I have
made an extract, in which he speaks of " The Chris
tian Year," and glancing at this Theory of Poetry,

Poetry Professorship. 209
shews that it was not only then in his mind, but that,
in fact, that Collection of Poems had grown up under
its influence.
In May, 1832, writing to me from Fairford, he
says : —
" My Lectures have hindered me sadly in my Hooker,
neither thoughts nor words will come neatly as I wish.
But I am more and more satisfied that my theory in itself,
as far as it goes, (for it is> not so absurd as to pretend to
explain aU phenomena,) is a good, and useful, and true one.
The point I am now upon is making out what people
mean when they talk of the Poetry of Painting, of Music,
of Sculpture, &c. ; if you know of any good book on the
subject, it will be a charity to mention it. But after all, I
believe the best way, especiaUy in Latin, is to make the
most one can of some one or two popular examples."
Since I undertook the task I have in hand, I
have thought it right to refresh my memory as to
the Prcelectiones, and have read them through again
with attention. . I must say, in the first place, that
I entirely retract the observation that he was ten
years too old when he was elected to the Professor
ship ; he was not in my opinion a day too old. I
presume I must have been thinking principally of
the Latinity, and no doubt the ten years' disuse
added much to the difficulty of which he complains,
and the danger which he feared. I will not presume
to pass the judgment of a scholar on his Latinity,
but I may venture to say that while there is no af
fectation of Ciceronianism, nay, while you sensibly
miss the inimitable rhythm and roundness of the

210 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
great Master's periods, Keble seems to me almost
always to have what is after all of the highest value,
a sufficient command of the instrument he is using.
The common failing of modern Latinists, those es
pecially who covet most to be Ciceronians, is that
they trim their conceptions, and limit their thoughts
to suit their powers of expression ; they do not so
much write what they think in all its extent, as set
down what they can find apt clothing for in Cice
ronian language; as if one should omit the opera
tions of the artillery in describing a modern fight, be
cause Cicero supplied no word for a cannon. Keble
never falls into this error ; he always says,' and with
sufficient clearness too, what he wishes to say, and
never leaves anything unsaid from want of words
to express it in. But, passing from the language to
the matter, the subject he chose demanded a full-
grown man for its exponent, one who could bring
forth "things new and old" from his storehouse,.
and who without presumption might claim to speak
with authority. The ten years of interval between
the two Elections had been to him years of mental
enrichment, ripening, and consolidation ; yet had not
diminished, perhaps increased, his conscientious con
sideration of what he might say, and the modesty
which was an inseparable part of his whole nature..
They had been years too of considerable progress
and activity generally in poetic and artistic studies ;
in this he had participated, and he had seen more
of nature, and studied her intensely with a true

Poetry Pmfossorship. 211
poet's feeling. Moreover attentive readers will not
fail to perceive that all through his analyses of poems
and his criticisms, and especially through the hor
tatory parts of the Lectures, there run the golden
threads of a religious spirit ; never obtrusively, never
patchily manifested, but uniformly, and as it were
imperceptibly shedding a mellowness and glow of
colour over the whole texture. Certainly he had
the feeling, which was the source of this, in 1 821
equally as in 1831 ; but I think it came out with
more grace, consistence, and power, with the years
added to his course. Such a man, especially one so
diffident of himself, would be able to say at the
latter age what he might perhaps have shrunk from
saying, or said with less authority at the former.
The late Professor, Mr. Arnold, with somewhat of
hereditary boldness, cast off the yoke of a foreign
language, and defied Keble's prophecy, which for
himself he might safely do ; and he came to the office
in a different state of the public mind, and under an
altered constitution of the University.
I may, however, freely express my hope that
his successors will revert to the ancient practice of
selecting a subject, and giving a course upon it,
which shall form an entire and complete work. It
seems to me to let down the office, and to be a
great temptation to clever and ready men, who may
shrink from sustained labour, and the mental effort
of grasping all parts of a great subject, to make
the Terminal Lectures opportunities for delivering

212 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
merely brilliant essays, which find their not inap
propriate future in fashionable Serials. The Poetry
Professorship is a great office, and ought to exercise
a sensible influence on the national taste. Great
subjects will never be wanting, at least, we have
at present a long list of such unexhausted. Chaucer,
and the early English Poets,— Shakespere, and the
Elizabethan Dramatists, — Spenser, Milton, Dryden,
and Pope, — Wordsworth — occur at once. And if
our own poets failed, the great Italian and German
masters might be taken up. These, and such as
these, are noble subjects, which would tax the intel
lect, the learning, and the industry of great minds.
Thoroughly to inform the English mind on these,
and to educate its taste in regard to such models,
would be not merely to reflect credit on the Uni
versity, but to confer wide and lasting benefit on
the nation.
Whether Keble could have done as Mr. Arnold
did, without permission of the governing body, and
if that were necessary, whether he would have ob
tained it, I do not know ; but I do regret extremely
that the Lectures were not originally composed in
•English; and it is a great gain that, as I presume,
all future Professors will follow Mr. Arnold's ex
ample in this respect. We boast nationally of our
Scholarship, and there is no doubt for a Scholar
much pleasure in composing, and not a little in
reading good modern Latin; but after all to write
in Latin is to write for readers comparatively so

Poetry Professorship. 213
few, that when we do so, we may be said almost to
seal up our thoughts from the public. But the Pro
fessor of Poetry at Oxford has a duty of a popular
character ; he has not indeed to make poets, or even
scholars, but to improve poetical taste, to regulate
critical judgment, to enlarge and systematize know
ledge as to the great poems of the world, and all
this demands the freedom of a native language both
for the lecturer, the audience, and readers. Mr.
Gladstone has happily characterized the Pralectiones
in one point of view, when he calls the course a " re
fined work," and he has truly said that it " criticises
the Homeric Poems in the spirit of a bard, setting
an early example, at least to England, of elevating
the tone of Homeric study V One regrets to think
that such a book on such a subject should not be
accessible, without difficulty as to the language, to
every educated woman as well as man.
It may be said, Why not translate it ? a question
natural enough to be asked, before one has con
sidered the difficulty of making any Latin book
into an original, idiomatic English book, enhanced
in the present instance by the vast number of cita
tions, of which translations would have to be made
or found. Yet the purpose was floating for a long
time in Keble's mind, and if any one could do
such a work successfully, it would be the author of
the original, as he might properly indulge in mo
difications or alterations not allowable to a third
b Homer, voL iii. p. 374.

214 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
person. More than once I believe I was myself
tempted by my fondness for the work, and my opi
nion of its possible usefulness in an English dress,
to offer my services ; he answered me thus on July 5,
1844: —
" I never thanked you for your partial pat on the back
touching the Prcelectiones. I have sometimes thought whe
ther any kind of translation or adaptation might be useful,
though of course no such vision ever crossed my mind as one
of Her Majesty's Puisne Judges engaged in such an opera
tion. If it took no time, I should like to substitute modem
examples for the Greek and Latin."
This substitution might have been effected ; and
very usefully, where the example is used only to
illustrate some general position in the text ; but in
far the greater number, where the Greek or Latin
Poem is the special subject of remark, that and the
example are necessarily so wedded together, that
it would have been impracticable. However, the
notion was not wholly abandoned, and in March,
1847, in answer to some proposition from me, he
writes thus : —
" I am really sorry not to have thanked you sooner for
your kind thought about the Prcelectiones, but I would not
for a very great deal have your energies and scanty leisure
wasted on anything so very unworthy. If they are at all
likely to do any good in English, it must be, I think, by
some reform more radical than any translation ; and if I
were industrious enough ever to have a little leisure, I
should encourage a thought, which has sometimes come

Poetry Professorship. 215
into my mind, of Anglicizing the substance of the poor
book in a kind of dialogues, which might be touched up
with a Httle scenery, and made semi-dramatic. But it
would take a good deal of time and trouble, especiaUy as
I suppose modern examples must be substituted in many
cases for the classical ones ; and tlien it will be matter of
many a weary chase to hunt out the fugitive glimmer of
a meaning, which may or may not be lurking in the
folds of a long Latin sentence. What a prose I am get
ting into."
One cannot but regret that he never found time
to carry into effect this last idea, suggested to him
probably by Southey's Colloquies. It is easy to
see how the work would have lent itself to lively
discussion in dialogue. He was powerful in local
descriptions in prose and verse, and at this period
of his life he had seen a great deal of beautiful
country ; but even if he had confined himself to the
scenery at and about Hursley, with every nook and
alley of which he was familiar, he would have found
scenes enough for his purpose, which he would have
stamped thenceforward with indelible associations.
Will my readers forgive me if, upon a favourite
subject, I venture to add an extract from my answer
to his last letter, which I have found among my re
turned letters : —
" If you can accomplish your design with tlie Lectures
it will be indeed exceUent; and now you have surmised
such a thing, I shall not let you rest without putting it in

216 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
execution. But I think you will not only incur unnecessary
labour, but very much impair the general utility of the
book, and also interfere with its peculiar character, by
seeking for modern instances. How can you sponge out
Homer, Achilles, &c, without making it a new work, and
at the same time destroying the happy peculiarity which
your book would have of at once teaching a true and novel
theory of Poetry, and illustrating it from the Classic Poets.
Sprinkle here and there, if you will, modern examples,
without confining yourself to English poetry for them, but
make your present instances the staple ; print the originals
with translations, which last I should without scruple adapt
from the best I could find, altering wherever'I liked, so as
to make them reflect the very matter, for which I had
selected the originals. And as the passages are not very
long, this would not be so troublesome as it might seem ;
and you would do them in your walks, and at all odd
times. In this way your argument and stuff being already
provided, I think you would find the work not very labo
rious, and full of interest. Your scheme of dialogue and
scenery is excellent ; it is long since I read Southey's Col
loquies, but I remember how the framing of the pictures
there interested me. Euge-macte.
"March S, 1847."
It was not to be ; singularly enough the subject
was renewed so late as January, 1866, when he
was at Bournemouth, by an offer made to him by
a gentleman who was a stranger to him. He con
sulted me about it, and reminded me of what had
passed between us on the subject many years be
fore, and asked if I still retained my former notion

Poetry Professorship. 217
of undertaking it myself ; but the time for such things
with me had passed away.
No short analysis of the work, (and a very short
one only would be suitable here,) would give so true
an account in general of its plan, as that which I
have already cited from his own letter.
The peroration of the series so illustrates the spi
rit of the whole, that I am tempted to give it, and
" done into English ;" though I fear this may prove
too clearly the justice of Keble's reluctance to en
trust me as his translator. Something grandiose
must be allowed for in a peroration.
" This would I desire most earnestly to deHver and com
mend to the thoughts of our young men, that it will be
weU with the pursuit of Poetry so long only as her lovers
shall remember that she is a gift vouchsafed to man, to
minister as a speciaUy honourable handmaid to true piety •
so that they should serve her, not in word, but in deed and
in truth, with all reverence, constancy, chasteness of spirit
On these, indeed, will depend entirely the hope, which at
length we dare conceive for the future, that that grander and
loftier voice of Poetry, wliich now for several years hath
been heard among us, shaU have good end and issue
through the happy increase of those studies which are
pecuharly and properly termed Divine.
" May God, Best and Greatest, vouchsafe that if He shaU
haply have ordained for us so great a blessing, it may not
in the very smaUest particular fail, and be of none effect
through the fault of any one of us."
I have noticed in passing the interest which Keble

2i8 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
took in public affairs, as they concerned the labour
ing classes ; his faith, for so I must call it, as regarded
the Church, and his opinions in respect of the two
parties which have divided her ever since the Re
formation, have also appeared incidentally in the
course of my narrative. With him these interests
were living realities : gentle as he was by nature,
and loving-hearted to individuals, he was very sen
sitive in regard to them, and it was not in his na
ture, nor according to his conscience, to be inactive
when he felt deeply. He was appointed by the
Vice-Chancellor to preach the Summer Assize Ser
mon at Oxford in 1833 ; he was glad of the oppor
tunity, and he published his sermon with the title
of National Apostasy, his text being the noble de
claration of Samuel as to the course which he will
continue to pursue in regard to his countrymen,
when they insisted on renouncing their Theocracy,
and. on being governed by a king, as the Gentiles
were. Among other things the measures then in
progress in regard to the Irish Protestant Church,
which had ended before the publication of the Ser
mon in what I scarcely think he accurately termed
the suppression of ten bishoprics, moved him very
¦deeply ; and his Sermon, though the language is
measured, and the recommendations, such as most
Churchmen would approve of, is evidently written
under deep though suppressed emotion of heart.
I may state while I am noticing this Sermon, that

Assize Sermon, 1833. 219
in it he lays down as the ground on which he thinks
the events in Jewish history applicable to Christian
teaching, the principle which my readers will re
member him to have stated in a letter I have before
extracted from. He says, "As regards reward and
punishment,, God dealt formerly with the Jewish
people in a manner analogous to that in which He
deals now, not so much with Christian nations, as
with the souls of individual Christians."
We have long as a Nation passed by Keble's prin
ciples in these matters, and I am not about uselessly
to re-agitate them, but I have made this particular
mention of the Sermon; because out of the same
feelings, and about the same time, arose that con
certed and systematic course of action, of which the
first-fruits were the celebrated Tracts. Dr. Newman
says in his Apologia, that he has ever considered and
kept the day of the publication of the Sermon as the
start ofthe religious movement of 1833.
I have prepared my readers not to expect in this
memoir the history of that movement. But one who
ought to know, has said in regard to it, that John
Keble was its true and primary author, and I shall
therefore supply such personal and incidental men
tion of it as my means enable me.
Writing to Dyson on the 26th of August, 1833,
very shortly after the preaching and publication of
the Sermon, he says : —
" If I had not hoped to see you so soon, I should have

22o Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
sent, you, I think, what I now reserve for you, if you will
accept it, a sermon which I have ventured to preach and
publish ; and at the same time I should have asked you,
What think you of a kind of association (as quiet and un
pretending as may be, if possible even without a name) for
the promotion of these two objects ? first, the circulation of
" primitive notions regarding the Apostolical Succession, &c. ;
^ and secondly the protection of the Prayer-book against pro
fane innovation. We have as yet only written round to
a very few intimate friends, Dayison, Ogilvie, Torn, &c,
and as far as they have answered me yet, they seem to
"think it may do good. To give . you a notion of the kind
of thing, the first Tract we propose to print will be a Penny
account of the martyrdom of St. Ignatius, with extracts from
" his Epistles. Pray do not blow on it as being all Ultra.''
In the same month, and a few days earlier, writing
to his father's old friend, Mr. Richards, he says : —
"Some of my friends at Oxford, persons wortiiy of much
confidence, are wishing for a kind of association, to circu
late right notions on the Apostolical Succession, and also
for the defence of the Prayer-book against any sort of pro
fane innovation, which seems too likely to be attempted.
Might we hope for your countenance and support if such
a thing should be set on foot ? Isaac Williams, I think, has
been written to, and can give you all particulars about it.
I cannot help hoping that there is still a good deal of
cordial Church feeling about the country, which it is very
desirable to encourage in a quiet way, and to get people to
dwell on it a little more."
In October, 1833, writing to me, he says : —
"Dyson and I had a great deal of talk on a plan

The Tracts. 221

which he may have mentioned to you, and which at any
rate I must, — the more boldly as you speak so kindly of the
tone and temper of the sermon I sent you. Considering
the helpless state of the Church in England, and the very
inadequate ideas entertained by most of her children, lay
and clerical, of her claims on their allegiance, certain inti
mate friends of mine at Oxford have drawn up a paper or
two, of which I hope you will in a day or twO receive cer
tain copies through the Parson of Plymtree, who has pro
mised to convey them so far. Now if you approve and
.would like to assist us, give me one line to say so within
this fortnight ; and put down and send me at your leisure
any memoranda that may occur to you of the best and most
effectual way of proceeding, e.g. on what subjects tracts
may be usefully provided, either for the clergy or the laity,
what you hear said agamst us that you think deserves
notice, in the way either of amendment or justification,
whom you think we might servjceably apply to," &c.
Such was the original design of the small knot of
zealous Churchmen, who projected this celebrated
series of Tracts.
It is impossible to impute disloyalty, or a mis
chievous intention concealed under the avowed de
sign, or in the means adopted to promote it ; those
who will read in Dr. Newman's Apologia the names
of the parties concerned, will never, I am persuaded,
think that the real object or means were other than
those avowed. Names more free from question as
to their general honesty, and their unquestionable
loyalty to the Church of England, could scarcely be
found. Still both imprudence in the execution, and

222 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
an advance upon the original purpose are possible y
matters to be considered hereafter. For myself, I
had not, or fancied I had not, leisure at the time to
read many of the Tracts as they came out, nor have
I read them at any time since ; a predicament in
which I believe to stand a large number of those
who have borne the name of Tractarians, as well as
of those who have objected to them as mischievous.
From the letters I have seen, I find that the bishops
were not invited to sanction, or interfere in the move
ment in the way of regulation ; good reasons may be
assigned for this resolution, beyond the caution of
one individual, from which however I believe it pro
ceeded ; although Keble, I think, would simply and
heartily have invoked the countenance and influence
of the Fathers of the Church ; from similar motives
a too careful or rather a formal organization was
avoided, and this perhaps, under the circumstances,
was to be regretted ; when every move would be
so vigilantly watched, and when a false move might
be so prejudicial.
It is, in my opinion, mere prejudice to deny that
the cause of true religion, and of the Church of Eng
land, reaped great advantages from the circulation of
the Tracts ; one must have been a quiet and attentive
observer of the state of the parochial clergy, and of
the English Church generally before they issued, to be
a competent judge of this. Making every allowance
for exaggeration, the change for the better is great,

The Tracts. 223

and to be observed not so much in bright instances
here and there, as in the general tone of feeling and
conduct, in the higher appreciation of what the pro
fession requires of its members, and the larger and
more distinct acknowledgment of duty. In these
respects I think it may be said, comparing the two
periods, that the rule has become the exception, the
exception the rule. But it will be equally prejudice,
as it seems to me, to deny that incidentally some
evil flowed from them. I remember on occasion of
some early secessions to Rome, it was reported to
have been said by Dr. Pusey, that however much
he regretted it, he could not deny that some were
to be anticipated, — it was a sensible remark, if I
may be allowed to say so. The Tracts came at a
time when we were (speaking of the generality both
lay and clerical) wholly untrained in dogmatic the
ology, wholly unversed in the questions which lay
between the Roman and the English branches of
Christ's Church. Elderly men will remember the
time, when for students to go into the controversy
with Rome was thought nearly superfluous, and for
clergymen to preach on it a mere waste of time.
The Tracts stirred this tranquil, perhaps stagnant,
lake ; and the stir of men's minds, especially among
the younger and more ardent, naturally produced
enquiry, under circumstances not at all favourable
to a just result ; the imperfect practice, and the
theory in some instances not strictly logical or com-

224 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
plete of our Church, were arraigned without that
diffident reverence, or that due allowance for cir
cumstances, which might have been reasonably ex
pected ; and there was the crowning fallacy, " if not
England, then Rome ;" on behalf of which latter
every assumption was made.
I am far from saying that this explains every in
stance of secession ; certainly, as at the Reformation
great men of unimpeachable holiness, vast learning,
and powerful intellect, remained with Rome, so now
some few of whom no less can be said went to her :
such is the character of the controversy in which
Bellarmine and Andrewes are opposed champions,
that this must in all time be expected.
But after, all, and now that one can look back in
comparative calm on the movement, I believe that
its general effect on the Church, in its clergy as well
as laity, often to be seen operating on those who are
least conscious of it, and least willing to acknow
ledge it, must be pronounced a subject for the deep
est gratitude to its Great Head.
Keble's direct contributions to the Tracts were few ;
in a list of his writings to be seen in Mr. Savage's work,
p. 52, four Tracts only are set down as his, Nos. 4, 13,
40, 89°, and I am not aware that to anything in either
could objection be made by any critic with ordinary
c To these I find now on the best authority ought to be added,
Nos. 52, 54, 57, 60, four Sermons on four Saints' ¦ Days. These on
ihe same authority were to have been parts of a course.

The Tracts. 225

pretensions to Churchmanship. The series is now
unwisely and undeservedly consigned to such entire
oblivion, that it may be as well to state shortly the
subjects of these four. No. 4, is an argument in
the manner of Butler, Keble's favourite mode of rea
soning, to shew that adherence to the Apostolical
Succession is the safest course. No. 13, is on the
Principle which regulated the Selection of the Sun
day Lessons. I think he owed the original suggestion
of this to Miller, as I find him stating it in one of his
letters, in which he speaks of a visit from Miller, and
the conversations they had had together. At the pre
sent time the Lectionary ofthe Prayer-book is coming
it is said under the revision of a Royal Commission,
and it may therefore not be wrong respectfully to urge
his caution ; that before fault is found with the pre
sent selection, those who alter it " ought to be toler
ably certain that they understand the principle on
which the Lessons in general were selected." It is
to be observed that he is speaking only of the Sun
day Lessons ; and as to the First Lessons, his theory
is an application of that which I have mentioned be
fore as a favourite one with him, " that the arrangers
desired to exhibit God's former dealings with His
chosen people collectively, and the return made by
them to God, in such manner as might best illustrate
His dealing with each individual chosen now to be
in His Church, and the snares and temptations most
apt to beset us as Christians." This was an argu
ment which of course was applicable only to the
Q

226 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
First Lessons on Sundays ; but he fails not to assign
ingenious reasons for there being no selection for the
Second Lessons ; one of the advantages which he
finds in this is, "that it presents the Old and New
Scriptures in endless variety of mutual combinations,
the more striking because they are unforeseen, and
in a certain sense casual." " The thought," he goes
on to say, "is happily expressed by Herbert, thus
addressing Holy Scripture : —
" ' O that I knew how all thy lights combine
And the configurations of their glory :
Seeing not only how each verse doth shine
But all the constellations of the story.' "
He had referred to this stanza in the letter to which
I have just alluded. It will interest those who should
be induced to read this Tract, to collect from it in
directly, how diffused and how earnest at the same
time was the attention which he gave to every part,
the most ordinary as well as the most rarely recur
ring, of his duty.
In the Tracts are several entitled "Richard Nel
son ;" these are dialogues, in which a mason by that
name bears a principal part with the clergyman of
his parish ,on different religious questions then much
agitated; they are very pleasantly written, and af
ford good specimens of the manner in which in
formation on grave subjects may successfully be
conveyed to the middle classes of our people. The
subject of No. 40 is the marriage of Nelson's ne-

The Tracts. 227

phew and godson, whose father is dead, to a young
woman who has not been baptized, and of course is
not a member of our Church. Nelson is much op
posed to this as well as the clergyman; the argu
ment, therefore, is not a contentious one, and to
the spirit of the present day it would seem to re
late to a very old-world matter; yet I will own it
has interested me in reading it over again, and it
can never be out of season, I suppose, to read what
tends to elevate and sanctify that which the Church
calls the state of Holy Matrimony.
One of the points in which Arnold and Keble
differed very widely was in their general estimation
of the Fathers. It was not unnatural that Arnold
should have a quick eye for occasional looseness in
argument, and the absence of that critical judgment
in history which may almost be said to have only
come into being since the death of the latest on
the roll. But Arnold had not (indeed how should he
have acquired?) the extensive knowledge of them
which Keble had, and he was scarcely competent to
set a due estimate on the scriptural feeling, and
habit of reasoning for which they are remarkable,
or the weight of their direct, and perhaps even more
their indirect, testimony on the belief and practice
of the early Church. Keble had had time, which
Arnold with all his wonderful industry and quickness
of apprehension had not, for a general and very con
siderate study of them ; it had been his duty as the
editor of Hooker to deepen that study, and while

228 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
perhaps he might a little underrate the importance of
those defects on which Arnold insisted, he dwelt with
just admiration and gratitude on their merits. His
was a nature, too, in this respect directly opposed
to Arnold's, and he loved the study, which Arnold
perhaps too much despised.
No. 89 was the result of this, an Essay on the
Mysticism attributed to the Early Fathers of the
Church, and I cannot but regret that it remains a
fragment only.
Such were Keble's direct contributions to the
Tracts, which I have thought it right to mention in
¦detail ; but it is not to be doubted that his interfer
ence in regard to them went much further, not
merely in suggesting subjects, and reviewing the
essays of others, but in personal influence elsewhere
than in Oxford, in procuring contributions, and ex
tending the circulation ; this, however, it will be
more in order to notice when I come to the period
ofthe abrupt termination ofthe series in 1841.
He seems to have been fully occupied between
home and Oxford during the year 1834, — with
Hooker, and his Lectures, and the other duties of
the Professorship ; he was also at this time busy with
the version of the Psalms, of which I delay to speak
until its completion. Towards the close of the year
it was evident that the object of his tender care for
so many years was about to be removed from him ;
his father's infirmities had compelled him to take to
his bed in November : —

Death of Rev. J. Keble's Father. 229
" For a bed-ridden person of 89" (he writes to me on the
3rd of December) " he is I trust no very great sufferer ; he
has infirmities, which give him often a good deal of pain
and distress, but he sleeps a good deal; his appetite is
tolerable, and he seems to have no thought but that which
one would wish to be taken up with. Elisabeth has been
able to do much for him."
Elisabeth, writing to a friend, says : —
"We have every comfort in seeing, and you will have
the same in hearing, that the same peace of mind and trust
in God still attend him in the near approach of death, as
have been his comfort through life ; he sleeps a great deal,
and wakes to repeat prayers and psalms, and it seems to
us who stand by, that he is only uncomfortable when his
attention is called away from that happy world towards
wliich we trust he is approaching."
To Mr. Richards Keble writes : —
" Whether wandering (which is the case occasionally) or
collected, I may almost say that what comes out of his lips
is one continued prayer."
The venerable patriarch fell asleep on the 24th of
January, 1835, closing his blameless life in peace,
with his family and faithful servants all around
him: —
" His memory for prayers and psalms," says Keble, " did
not desert him all through his illness, and it was remarkable
how he made out the prayer, when he could not exactly
remember it, by adding the words of some other prayer,
hardly ever becoming incoherent, and always in the same
clear sUver voice."

230 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
As on all the preceding occasions, so on this, the
survivors accepted the bereavement with the cheerful
resignation of real Christians ; they found comfort in
all the circumstances of the illness, and the departure.
Yet on John Keble, and Elizabeth especially, the
blow was heavy ; to them their father had long been
the object of tenderest care ; their ardent love for him
(no distinction can be made hetween the two) had
a mixture in it of filial pride, and veneration for his
great qualities of head and heart ; the feeling natu
rally descended to smaller matters, — John delights
to speak of "his silver voice," "the clear and pecu
liar tones of his voice," and how in advanced old age
the flock at Coin admired his manner still of per
forming the duty ; and now they two were bereft of
that object, and alone.
Yet as at his mother's death all his usual cheerful
ness and readiness for duty were what the standers
by would have noticed. My readers will see no in
consistency in this : an incident has come to my
knowledge since I spoke of his mother's death, which
is worth introducing here ; it was told me by one who
was present when it occurred. Keble returned, it
will be remembered, from his mother's death-bed to
the Schools at Oxford, and continued in the dis
charge of his duty as Examining Master through the
week until the day of her funeral. A young man
had given in among his books some plays of Euri
pides, including the Alcestis. Keble happened to

Alcestis. 231
be conducting his examination ; and whether inad
vertently, or, as we sometimes do, humouring the
sorrow at his heart, had set him on at the part, (ver.
395 et seqq.) in which she dies in the presence of
her husband Admetus, her son Eumelus, and his
sister. Much of the tenderness and pathos of the
passage arise from the wonderful simplicity of the
language, which it is almost impossible to reproduce
in a translation ; but I think my readers will be glad
to see the passages in a rendering, which my son,
Sir John Duke Coleridge, has been good enough to
supply me with : —
Admetus, Alcestis, Chorus, Eumelus.
Admetus. Turn thy face hither ; leave not thy children so.
Alcestis. Not with my will ; yet fare ye well, my babes.
Adm. Look, look upon them !
Alc. I am nothing now.
Adm. What? goest thou? Alc. Farewell. Adm. Let me die too I
Chorus. Thy wife hath past away, she is no more.
Eum. Ah, for my fate ! To shades below,
My father, see my mother go !
She is no more beneath the sun,
Leaving me here my race to run,
An orphan boy, tul life be done ;
Ah, see her stiffening eyelids 1
Look at her nerveless hands !
Hear me, oh hear, sweet mother,
The child who o'er thee stands.

232 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
j. call to thee, my mother, yea, I call j
A callow nestling on thy lips I fall.
Adm. She hears thee not, nor sees thee ; thus am I
And ye two smitten down with heaviest sorrow.
Eum. Ah, father ! I am left alone,
So young, forlorn of mother's care,
The harsh things of the world to bear ;
Thou, maiden, too my lot must share,
My sister ! for her love is gone.
Father ! all vain
The, nuptial strain ;
In vain her bridegroom didst thou stand,
Hoping in vain that hand in hand,
With her thou might'st attain old age,
The bourne of earthly pilgrimage.
For, she first withering, in her swift decay
The whole house perished as she past away.
Keble, as was then usual, was standing ; he heard
the passage out with fixed attention, and unchanged
countenance, then dropped on his chair, and burying
his face in his hands on the table, remained for some
time silent, overcome with emotion.

CHAPTER XI.
COLN ST. ALDWYN. — ENGAGEMENT WITH MISS
CLARKE. — ACCEPTANCE OF HURSLEY VICARAGE.
— MARRIAGE, AND SETTLEMENT AT HURSLEY. —
VISITATION SERMON. — HURRELL FROUDE'S RE
MAINS. — A. KNOX. — VERSION OF PSALMS.— CREWE
IAN ORATION AND WORDSWORTH. — 1839.
KEBLE and his sister had cast in their lot toge
ther, and were now left with the world before
them. I do not know what the disposition of the
family property was, but no thought seems to have
occurred to them of continuing at Fairford. One
discomfort there had been during all his long re
sidence there, felt even while his father and mother
lived, and important enough to have decided him
now of itself against choosing it as his residence
when his choice was free ; the views of the Incum
bent in Church matters were of the kind to which
he was very averse, and he felt that between him
self and this gentleman there could be no cordial
co-operation. Most of us, I suppose, would feel such
a circumstance to be one which would mar the per
fect enjoyment of any residence, however delightful
in itself, or endeared to us by circumstances; with
one who felt so strongly on these points as he did,
it would be conclusive.

234 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

But with both the brother and sister Coin St. Ald
wyn had always been the favourite residence ; it was
a great delight to them when the family moved, as
they sometimes did, for a fortnight or three weeks to
the Cottage Parsonage at Coin. I do not remember
ever to have seen the place, but the photographs,
three in number, devoted to it in Mr. Savage's work,
create a favourable impression of the church, and of
the river scenery. Keble delighted in walking on
the banks of rivers, and no features or incidents of
natural scenery does he describe in poetry more
faithfully and imaginatively than those with which
rivers, and their banks, the flow of their waters, their
flowers, and their trees abound. In the chapter
which these photographs illustrate are some cita
tions from " The Christian Year" and the Lyra In
nocentium, which the writer seeks to "trace to the
Coin. It is probable that he does so correctly ; the
whole chapter is interesting. Keble had a special,
a sort of filial fondness for this river. Writing to
his brother in June, 1815, on his return from some
summer expedition, he says : —
" I got to Bibury about J p. 6, and walked leisurely home,
and really some of the spots which I passed on our jolly
river Coin are quite beautiful enough to recompence one for
a much longer walk."
I was not surprised to see him date'from Coin St,
Aldwyn's soon after his father's death. I had hoped

Coin St. Aldwyn. 235

to meet him at Oxford on my first Circuit as Judge ;
he says : —
" Very much disappointed am I that I cannot have the
pleasure of meeting you at Oxford this week. I fixed my
Lecture on purpose for last Tuesday, intending to stay all
the week, but I had quite forgotten that it was the first
week in Lent, when I could not weU be absent from the
parish ; so I was obliged to mount my horse and ride home
on Tuesday evening. After all, I imagine I should only
have, had very scanty fits and snatches of you, and that I
shall be better off on tlie whole by considering this disap
pointment as a good excuse for coming up to London and
spending a few days with you, and the Museum, some time
after the Circuit is over. At present I cannot look forward
with any great certainty to my own movements, for this
vicarage is not yet disposed of, and I do not like leaving
the people till they have some one to take care of them.
It will be with a heavy heart most likely when I do go 
"I think it likely that I shall continue bobbing back
wards and forwards between Oxford and this place till
after Easter, 'and then probably come to Oxford for the
whole Term to look after my professional duties, and, as
I hope, put Hooker fairly out of hand. Eliz. by that
time, I dare say, wUl be reconciled to moving on Bisley
for a while."
They did not in fact leave the little vicarage
until June, and left it with much regret ; it was like
a second loss of their father to quit for ever the
home and the church, where the recollections of
him from their earliest childhood were so deeply
impressed, where they might still seem to see his
venerable countenance, and hear the clear tones of

236 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
his silver voice in the discharge of his duty. I need
not say that the day of their departure was a sad
one for the villagers ; far the greater number of them
had grown up under the care of the old man; his
children had always identified themselves with him
in visiting and loving carefulness for the sick and
poor; these, and cordial assistance in the schools,
and latterly Keble's ministrations there, had endeared
them to the whole population.
They returned to Fairford to prepare for their
final departure, and about the same time two events
occurred, which determined the course of his whole
future life ; his engagement with Miss Charlotte
Clarke, and his acceptance of the Vicarage of Hursley,
again offered to him by Sir William Heathcote. The
engagement, indeed, had been made some years be
fore. None could be more natural : they had known
each other well from childhood ; their parents were
old and intimate friends, and the marriage of the
sister of the one with the brother of the other must
have added to the familiarity of their intercourse.
At first sight the only wonder would be that the
announcement and fulfilment should have been so
long delayed ; but, on the one hand, Mrs. Clarke,
a widow, was loath to part with her daughter, and
Keble, on the other, was very unwilling to leave his
father, and so from year to year the marriage was
delayed. Perhaps it might have been expected that his very
intimate friends would have been let into his secret

Engagement with Miss Clarke. 237
earlier. His communications, when at last they came,
to Cornish, to Dyson, and myself, were characteristic ;
and when I read them over now, I cannot help re
calling to mind his exquisite verses on the Fourth
Sunday in Lent : —
" But there's a sweeter flower than e'er
Blush'd on tlie rosy spray —
A brighter star, a richer bloom
Than e'er did western heaven illume
At close of summer day.
" 'Tis Love, the last best gift of Heaven ;
Love, gentle, holy, pure ;
But tenderer than a dove's soft eye,
The searching sun, the open sky,
She never could endure."
To me he said, writing on the 4th of May : —
" As for me, I don't like talking of such reports so soon
after our great loss, but surely you have a right to know
all about me, and I will not affect to deny that I hope
they may prove tme in time ; but I am sorry to say that
I cannot speak highly of the health of the dear person in
question, and that alone is a reason for not talking much
about things."
To Cornish, from Fairford on the 12th of June, he
writes in the same way : —
" I dare say Hubert has told you about me, and there
fore I am not going to make a regular announcement, but
only to beg your blessing as young people ought on such
an occasion ; but so shortly after my dear Father's death,

238 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
I do not much love being forward in telling my friends
about things, and this I hope you will take as a receipt
in full for all apologies due from me on the score of un
friendly silence."
I give the letter to Dyson in full : — " Fairford,
"June 12, 1835.
" My dear Dyson,
" I must allow, without any violent exertion of humility,
that Mrs. Dyson, this time, has some ground of complaint
in respect of the word ' soon.' And yet, considering how
wonderfully quick the weeks and months move when once
folk are got to our time of life, I hope she will make al
lowances. But as touching the news, (if uncertain futurities
can be called news,) which Sir John communicated to you,
I am not going to be coy, nor to argue against the propriety
of such things, as a friend of mine did in Yorkshire some
years ago ; but only to say that whereas it is a project of
some standing, I hope you will not think it any unkind-
ness that nothing was said to you before ; for surely, if any
one out of the family, you and Mrs. D. have a right to be
told of things ; but you see it was all so very uncertain and
contingent, and seemed somehow so made to depend on
what of course we did not like to think of, that one could
hardly say it had assumed the shape of a project; and
since my Father's departure the time has been full short
for talking of such things ; and I dare say you will agree
with me that few things not immoral are more disagreeable
than the hurry people now-a-days are generally in to get
out of the house of mourning. Well, now hoping I am
forgiven, I proceed with the plans and projects. First

Engagement with Miss Clarke. 239
comes the melancholy reality that we are finally parted
from dear Httle Coin.
"I think EHsabeth has behaved very well considering;
but what with the hot weather, what with the packing up,
and what with the people coming in to say good-bye one
after another, the two or three days last past have been
very trying to her, and I shall be rather glad to-morrow
evening to think of her safely landed at Bisley. Our
nephew has been with us all the time, and has been of tlie
greatest use to her as weU as enjoyment. When she starts
West, I start East, having to visit Oxford for as long a spell
as I can, to finish my Term's work, and break the back of
the 3"1 vol. of R. H., which is now in the press. At Michael
mas I have engaged at last to accept the Vicarage of Hurs
ley, which Gilbert Heathcote is desirous of vacating. This
house will probably be let to Cornwall, who, as you may
remember, is our Doctor at Fairford, for a term of years.
He wishes for it, and I suppose there is no person at all
Hkely to seek it whom my Father, if we could ask him,
would more desire to have here. Dearest E. will spend
her time between me and Tom. My notion is Hursley in
the winter for her, and Bisley in the summer. The distance
is the great objection  "
Mr. Heathcote's health had failed very seriously
at Hursley, and he was desirous of resigning the
living. Sir William again and immediately offered it
to Keble, who agreed to accept it, and it was ar
ranged that he should come to it at the Michael
mas following ; he was not in fact instituted until
March 9, 1836. It is at least a remarkable circum
stance, that Keble should have become the Incum-

240 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
bent of Hursley after the circumstances which have
been stated ; he had obeyed the calls of a sacred
duty ; these were now satisfied, and the vacancy
was announced exactly at the time when, with the
prospect of marriage before him, he must have been
considering where he should settle down as a mar
ried man. And I believe that even with the ob
jection to which he alludes at the close of my last
extract from his letter to Dyson, (the distance from
Hursley to Bisley, not great in itself, but incon
venient in days when there were no railways, to two
busy clergymen, with not overflowing means,) Hurs
ley was, of all the incumbencies he had known of, the
one he would have most delighted to be placed in.
The marriage took place at Bisley on the loth
of October, 183.5, an£l the newly-married couple
went to Southampton, where they remained, I be
lieve, until they took possession of the parsonage
at Hursley. Southampton was convenient from its
vicinity, and it was thought favourable for Mrs.
Keble's health. Keble, it will be remembered, had
mentioned in his announcement to me the delicacy
of her health ; this reason always for care, and too
frequently for anxiety, was in operation from the
very commencement of their married life, and con
tinued until its close. It did not find him unpre
pared. It is remarkable that so early as the year
1 816, when I had, I presume, mentioned in writing
to him the delicacy of health of the young lady

Marriage, and Settlement at Hursley. 241
to whom I was engaged to be married, he wrote
thus in answer ; and had I shewn him his letter
in 1835, or indeed at any later and less romantic
period of his life, I feel sure he would have ad
hered to every word in it, and applied it to his own
feelings : —
" One part of your letter did indeed make me very sorry,
it is that where you speak of Miss B.'s state of health. I
think I can enter into your feelings on that subject ; I have
often thought why it is that illness attaches us more to peo
ple whom we love, and though I cannot analyse it, I feel
that it is both a merciful and trying dispensation : merciful,
because it makes us more useful to them, and attracts us
towards another world ; trying, even to heart-breaking, be
cause it gets stronger as hope gets less. But I would not
advise any man to encourage it who has not an habitual
sense of religion, and dependence upon God. I have often
thought how miserable it must have been to heathens to
lose a relation, and it must be still worse, methinks, to
heathenish Christians. But since we are Christians, I do
not think the chance, or even the moral certainty of UI
health should be considered as an objection to a marriage
well considered in other respects.
«ya»'»9, 1816."
Keble had abundant opportunity of testing the
soundness of this opinion in his own married life.
As he seldom wrote a letter to me before his mar
riage which did not contain some words about the
varying health of his parents, or sisters ; so during
R

242 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
his after life there was seldom one in which that of
his wife was not an important topic. Beside all
other comforts, one he had in a remarkable degree,
in the patience, good spirits, and energy of Mrs.
Keble; she bore very trying and long sicknesses
not merely with cheerful resignation, but with bright
spirits, and when one would have thought her unfit
for anything but rest on her sofa, she would be up
and at work in or for the parish almost as if she had
been in strength and health. It may give some little
notion of her in the early part of her married life,
if I extract parts of a letter from her to Elisabeth
Keble, then at Bisley. It is dated from Hursley,
March 9, 1836 : —
" My dear Eliz*,
" Every now and then, when I propose to a gentleman
to write a little scrap to you, he says he is going to send
you a whole letter; but as even poor Hooker's departure
doesn't seem to have made a gap in his occupations, I
dare say this intended letter will be some time before
it reaches Bisley, so I must say 6 words to you in this.
I dare say you are thinking as much about Oxford as
we are."
This was the period of the agitation which existed
there on the appointment of Dr. Hampden to the
Regius Professorship of Divinity : —
"Some of the clergy about here seem to take a real
interest in the subject, but those at Winton are not easily
moved ; at least, I suppose those who are much influenced

Settlement at Hursley. 243,
by the Bishop do not feel very sure of his concurrence ; but
perhaps, as Mr. Newman says, the example of Bath and
Bristol and other places may give them courage ; and if
the Bishop knew that the Archbishop really wished for
such support, I should hope he would sanction it. John
is gone to meet him to-day, and I dare say he wiU have
some talk about it
" I do not at aU Hke the thoughts of letting him go
again by himself to Oxford, but I suppose it must be this
time; and to comfort myself, I have been thinking that
it would be very nice, (if nothing prevents,) to be there
with him when the Prize time comes; he must be there
longer then ; and if you could get your visit to the Ed
wards' over, and meet us at Oxford, and come back with
us, I think it would do beautifully. I'm afraid the poor
Lecture is rather behindhand. There have been so many
things just lately to take his thoughts another way ; but
after the last, which was only just finished in time to be
preached, and yet turned out so well, I shall not be much
in a fidget. The chief vexation is that one can't help hira
at all.
" By the end of this month I think we shall begin to
look very pretty here. Even now there is a delicate tinge
of green coming over the underwood and hedges, as I see
when I take my walk up and down the south end of the
Terrace. All that we have done as yet is the walk under
the trees, which Churcher was graveUing yesterday, and
which I hope will be in good order by the time you come.
We have plans in our head about making flower-beds, and
putting in some shrubs, but the ground is too wet to do-
anything. " The daUy service goes on very quietly and comfortably ;.
the number of persons continues about the same ; but to

244 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
have this daily sacrifice at all seems every day to be more
valuable. I shall be very glad for "poor Mr. Newman to
have the comfort of John's being in Oxford. He seems
very much to need it ; and nobody, I suppose, can so en
tirely sympathize with him both in his distress for the loss,
and also in the views and opinions which knit them all
three together. I can't help thinking, at least one doesn't
know; but that Mr. Froude may in some way or other be of
more service now, than if he had been kept here longer.
" Mr. Wilson seems to set in to his work with very good
heart, though Mr. Norris of Hackney tried to frighten him
by saying, ' Do you know what you are going to undertake
— daily services, &c. ?' He has been a good deal about
the parish, but he can't do much in the way of reading or
writing on account of his eyes. My best love to the chil
dren, dear. I shall leave the outside for another hand.
" Dear Elizabeth,
" Your affect"5 sister, C. K."
Then John, later in the day, has taken up the pen
and says : —
" Charlotte has just wakened me out of an afternoon's
nap to say I must write a line to you dearest Eliz., and I
say I have nothing worth writing, but it may be good to
have her favourable account of herself confirmed, for she is
certainly better and stronger than she was. . . .
" I most wish my lecture was done, it makes me feel so
stupid. Your lovingest, J. K."
Let it not be supposed (I add in a parenthesis)
that my old friend Mr. Norris was averse from daily
services, which from the time he had a Church of his
own he constantly celebrated.

Settlement at Hursley. 245
It is not waste of time thus to make my readers
acquainted with the person whom Keble had chosen
for the partner of his life ; his was a nature which
delighted in sympathy and intimate communion ;
he had chosen well. Mrs. Keble, without going out
of her subordinate place, and in spite of her delicate
health, was his very helpful and affectionate fellow-
worker, comforter, and support to the end of his
days. I need not point out the features of her cha-
racter in this picture so unconsciously drawn of her
self by herself, but I will add a testimony to myself
from Dyson, who says, writing to me in October,
1836 :—
"At the end of August we paid a visit to Keble at
Hursley, where he has a pretty home and garden, and
a charming wife, not omitting a most excellent Squire;
so that our dear friend has many happy appliances about
him with only one great drawback, the delicate state of
his wife's health. I find he has advanced higher up the
hill of Ecclesiastical Orthodoxy than I have reached as
yet. I require more time, being of a sluggish constitu
tion of mind and body. If I had the same purity and
singleness of spirit, and something of the same depth of
thought and feeling, as he happily has, perhaps I should
strive more to keep up with him."
Again he says in February, 1837 : —
" Also I have a letter from J. Keble, who says his wife
has been attacked by the Influenza, wliich has thrown her
back much, bringing on her cough, &c. This I grieve to

246 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
hear, being anxious about her both on her account and his.
For bating her ill health, I do not know that our dear
friend could have been more happy in his choice in all
respects. And indeed this thorn in the side of ill-health
has little venom in it, from her sweetness of temper and
patience ; and may be wanting as a trial to make him
more perfect."
In the autumn of the year 1836, Keble was called
on (I suppose as the junior Incumbent) to preach
in Winchester Cathedral the Visitation Sermon, be
fore Chancellor Dealtry and the clergy of the Arch
deaconry ; his subject was . " Primitive Tradition re
cognised in Holy Scripture ;" it was published "in
deference to the wish" of his audience, and was after
wards included in a volume of Academical and Oc
casional Sermons, which he published at a later
period. But it had reached a third edition before
that, and he had then subjoined to it an Appendix,
and also a reprint of the seventy-eighth Tract for
the Times, being principally a Catena Patrum col
lected as authority for the view he had taken. The
sermon seems to me to put the important matter
of ^the true and allowed authority of Tradition in
the right light, and to have been a very seasonable
contribution to our theological libraries. For him
self he said to me : —
" I am glad you do not think I have gone too far in the
view I have taken of Tradition. It appears to me such
plain hum-drum common sense, that I am sure no one would

Visitation Sermon. 247
think of urging such a truism, if Romanism had not brought
it into discredit."
Cornish, through his brother Hubert, had inti
mated a doubt as to the correctness of his view of
Tradition, in answer to which he says : —
" Hubert (who is a good fellow) says I am to tell you
the meaning of Tradition, and reconcile myself with my
Master, Hooker: to which I answer first he is not my
Master, as I have dared to differ from him widely in my
Preface; and secondly, if you compare what he says in
B. i. c. T3, about Tradition, with the place in B. v. about
the Tradition of the Cross, you will see that he does not
deny the principle, that if you could make out such things
to be Traditions, you ought to receive them, but only the
fact that such things are Traditions. In the fact I am at
issue with him, and so (among others) is St. Basil; who
says some of the chiefest and most universal rules of
Christian worship are known by Tradition only without
Scripture." I make a further extract from the same letter,
which presents a pleasant picture of the life at the
Vicarage at this time, and adds an interesting inci
dent or two on other matters. Dr. Newman will ex
cuse, I think, my introduction of what relates to him.
The letter is dated Oct. 16, 1837 : —
" My wife, I am thankful to say, continues on the whole
a little stronger then she used to be at Cirencester ; but
the autumn makes itself felt a little both by her and the
trees, gently as it is coming on. Elisabeth is with us, very

248 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
comfortably well, keeping up our spirits on the departure
of my brother and sister and their three daughters, after
a visit of a full month, the first they have ever paid us.
It answered remarkably well, all parties enjoying them
selves; and Tom seeming quite set up after his trying
campaign with the Beggars and Guardians right hand and
left at Bisley. Newman came among us for a week when
we were all together : I wish you could meet him here
some day ; I think you will find that his demeanour answers
reasonably well to the impression made by his writings
and preachings. He has now in hand a work on Justifica
tion, of which I have seen a very little ; those who know
more of it, say that it is as striking or more so than any
thing he has yet put out. While he was here we were
very busy correcting some sheets of the ' Remains' of dear
H. Froude, which N. is bringing out : if my partiality does
not. deceive me, it will be a most original and interesting
book. His Journal has taught me things concerning him,
which I never suspected myself, as to the degree of self-
denial which he was practising when I was most intimate
with him. This encourages one to think that there may
be many such, whom one dreams not of. ... I sent New
man what you said concerning Oxford Statutes, and found
that he had been turning his mind to the subject; he has
made a copy of the Oriel Statutes, and finds only two things
which are not in substance (he thinks) observed ; the Pro
vost Hving with the Fellows, and the Fellows residing.
This excepts of course the great deviation common to all
the Catholic Foundations : the cessation, i.e. of Prayer for
the Founders ; of which the more I think of it, the more
I regret it, as a most lamentable concession to Ultra Protes
tant fears and jealousies ; nor do I think we shall ever be
quite right till it is restored. In the meantime I am for

Settlement at Hursley. 249

holding back as much as possible from all State inter
ference ; my notion of the Constitution (of course under
your correction) being that all such foundations ought only
to be controllable by Chancery, and that Parliament has
nothing to do with them."

A notion, I may subjoin, in which he was soon
to be somewhat 'rudely corrected ; he lived to see
the principle insisted on that the Universities and
their Colleges were National property, and the con
sequence followed of course that it was within the
competence of Parliament to regulate their Govern
ment. And these principles established, I think he
would have admitted that on the whole they were re
spectfully and moderately dealt with by the Oxford
University Act of 1854, and the Executive Commis
sion appointed by it. He certainly had no reason to
cling with regret to the Government of the Hebdoma
dal Board. It is easy to form an opinion as to what
he would have thought of the measure apparently
in contemplation at the time I write. On questions
of this kind especially his principles were uncom
promising; if a measure offended against what he
thought honest, or violated what he thought sacred,
good motives in the framers he would not admit
as palliatives; nor would he be comforted by an
opinion of mine that measures mischievous in their
logical consequences were never in the result so
mischievous, or beneficial measures so beneficial, as

250 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
had been foretold. So he writes playfully to me
at an earlier time : —
" Hurrell Froude and I took into our consideration your
opinion that ' there are good men of all parties,' and
agreed that it is a bad doctrine for these days; the time
being come in which, according to John Miller, ' scoundrels
must be called scoundrels ;' and moreover we have stig
matized the said opinion by the name of the Coleridge
Heresy. So hold it any longer at your peril."
I think it fair to set down these which were in
truth formed opinions, and not random sayings ;
but it would be most unfair, if one concluded from
them, written or spoken in the freedom of friendly
intercourse, that there was anything sour in his spirit,
or harsh or narrow in his practice ; when you dis
cussed any of these things with him, the discussion
was pretty sure to end, not indeed with any insin
cere concession of what he thought right and true,
-but in consideration for individuals, and deprecia
tion of himself.
I give, from a letter to myself, dated Hursley,
Oct. 23, 1838, an extract more considered, and not
unimportant. I had been reading Alexander Knox's
Remains, and been much struck by them, and men
tioned them to him. He says in the course of a long
letter, (and I desire to draw attention to the close
of the extract) : —
" As touching Mr. Knox, whom you have been reading,
I admire him very much in some respects, and think he

A lexander Knox. 251
did the world great service by his ' Treatise on the Eucha
rist ;' but I cannot admit his symbolizing with Methodists
to be at aU Cathohc ; quite the contrary, for Catholic
means, 'according to the rule of the whole uncorrupt
Church from the beginning;' and Mr. Knox's admiration
of Wesley and Co., was founded first on his own private
personal experience, and then justified by his own private
personal interpretation of Church History. Surely it was
a great faUacy of his, that where he saw the good effect of
a thing, the thing itself is to be approved. You know how
it issued in the case of his friend Mr. Forster, that he
made out Mahometanism to be a kind of Divine dispensa
tion : and in itself surely it is rather an arrogant position in
which Mr. K. delighted to imagine himself, as one on the top
of a high hiU, seeing which way different schools tend — (the
school of Primitive Antiquity being but one among many,)
and passing judgment upon each how far it is right, and
how well it suited its time — himself superior to all, exercis
ing a royal right of eclecticism over all. It does not seem
to me to accord very weU with the notion of a faith ' once
for all delivered to the saints.' I speak tlie more feelingly
because I know I was myself inclined to eclecticism at one
time ; and if it had not been for my father and my brother,
where I should have been now, who can say ?"
If it should seem to any enthusiastic admirer of
Alexander Knox (and although I believe he is much
less read now than he deserves, there may be many
still,) that Keble speaks with too great freedom of
one so justly remarkable as he was, it should be re
membered that he was writing to me whom he was
perfectly entitled to advise on such a subject,, with

252 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
the freedom and unreservedness of friendly corre
spondence. It was therefore natural to pass by the
qualifications which he might have thought it right
to express under other circumstances.
My readers will have observed how Keble writes
respecting Hurrell Froude and his "Remains;" his
death was a heavy blow to him, and no wonder;
those who knew him, but were not on terms of in
timacy, could not but regard mournfully the end of
one so accomplished, so gifted, so good, and so pure ;
a man of such remarkable promise, worn out in the
very prime of' life by slow and wasting and long
hopeless disease. But it was much more than this
with Keble — they were more like elder and younger
brothers ; reverence in some sort sanctified Froude's
love for Keble, and moderated the sallies of his some
what too quick , and defiant temper, and imparted
a special diffidence to his opposition in their occa
sional controversies with each other ; while a sort of
paternal fondness in Keble gave unusual tenderness
to his friendship for Froude, and exaggerated perhaps
his admiration for his undoubted gifts of head and
heart. And these were greater than mere acquaint
ances would be aware of ; for he did not present the
best aspects of himself to common observation. .
I must say a word upon the book : it was published
in 1838 and 1839 in two Parts, and to each is prefixed
a well-considered and able preface, written by Keble ;~
with the exception however as to the second of a few

Hurrell Froude 's " Remains!' 253
formal lines at the close, but as to the first, of the
portion from p. ix. to p. xv. This last vindicates
Froude from the imputation of Romanism, in the
sense either of favouring the Roman Catholic Church,
or of being disloyal in any true sense to the Angli
can, by citations from the "Remains" themselves.
These excepted parts are, as I now learn, by Dr.
Newman, who was the publisher of the work ; Keble,
however, shared largely in the preparation, and
insisted on partaking of the responsibility. I had
the misfortune of giving him pain, not only by dif
fering from him on the subject; but, owing to mis
information, or misapprehension on my part, by what
turned out to be a fruitless and ill-timed interference
to prevent the publication. I need not now explain
how this arose ; but I must confess that my opinion
remains unchanged. It is a deeply interesting book,
not only perfectly harmless now, but capable of in
structing and improving those who will read it
calmly and considerately; still I think that it was
calculated at the time to throw unnecessary difficul
ties in the way of the Movement ; that it tended to
prevent a fair consideration of what the movers were
attempting, to excite passion, and to encourage a
scoffing spirit against them. Some part of the anger
and bitterness with which the Ninetieth Tract was
afterwards received, may fairly be traced to the feel
ing created, unjustly indeed, yet not unnaturally, by
the publication of the " Remains ;" the one seemed

254 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
to be the result of the other : and the sequence of
the two was held to shew a deliberate hostility
to the . Anglican, and. an undue preference of the
Roman Church.
I think I shall do well before I quit this subject,
if I insert here an extract from a letter written to me
by Archdeacon Froude, in answer to one, in which
I had explained under what impressions I had ven
tured to interfere with him as I had done in respect
to the publication. It is at once so kind, candid, and
just, and the subject as regards Hurrell Froude so
important, that it ought to see the light : —
" Dartington Parsonage,
March 26, 1838.
" My dear Sir John Coleridge,
" I can assure you with the most perfect sincerity, that
your observations on the late publication were received by
me as you meant they should be. That I have not ac
knowledged them before, has arisen in great measure from
the fact of their not having reached me till four days ago.
I had never seen the proof-sheets, nor had I known more
of the contents than what I picked up from the Janr. No.
of the ' Brit. Critic' The manuscripts supplied by me were
the journal, and a small portion of the letters. To what
extent they would be used I was not at all aware. But
I gave my full consent to the publication of all or any
part, and therefore I know that the whole responsibility
rests with me. The preface, written either by Mr. Keble
or Mr. Newman, will best explain the views of the editors.
The warm affection they both felt for dear H., and their

Letter of Archdeacon Froude. 255
acquiescence in most of his views, may doubtless have led
them to overrate the fragments now given to the public.
" The journal I sent, as presenting a lively picture of
a mind daily struggling with a natural infirmity of temper.
The strict scrutiny to which he subjected aU his thoughts
and actions, the unsparing severity of his self-examinations
and earnest endeavours to correct what he found amiss,
were certainly most interesting features in his character,
but possibly might have been better kept out of sight.
Of his opinions on theological points I really am not
qualified to speak; knowing as matters of history that
many of those who took a leading part in the Reformation
were actuated by very questionable principles, and that
others were carried away by the spirit of the times to de
stroy much that should have been spared, I daresay he
was often tempted to use stronger expressions on that
subject, than his real feelings would have warranted. A
departure from some of the practices of the early Chris
tians observed by the Roman Church, and the neglect of
ordinances prescribed by our own ritual, I have often
heard him condemn in strong terms; but neither abroad
nor at home did I ever know him to be the apologist of
the Papal Church, much less hold it up to approbation,
except for its zeal and unity. His professed aim was to
follow, as closely as authorities could guide him, the prac
tice of the early Christian Church. In our own, Bishop
Bull and the Non-jurors were, I think, the patterns he
proposed to himself for everything that was noble and dis
interested in temporal, and sound in doctrinal, matters :
but I feel I am quite unable to explain or defend the
notions he had formed on these important subjects."
It was in May, 1839, that Keble published his

256 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
metrical version of the Psalms ; he had prepared
this some time before, and it lay among his papers i
until an intimation reached him that the Bishop of
Oxford (Dr. Bagot) would, if it were published, license
it formally for use in his diocese. A sanction of
this sort he particularly desired ; he had determined
not to publish it under his own name ; and now
having this encouragement from the Bishop, under
whom, in a certain sense, he considered himself to
be as an Oxford Professor, and being also more
directly related to the Bishop of Winchester as Vicar
of Hursley, he was desirous of the same sanction
from him also, and to be allowed to call the work
the "Winchester and Oxford Psalter." He accord
ingly applied, and some delay occurring in the re
ceipt of an answer, he became apprehensive that he
might have done what was wrong in making the ap
plication. By his desire I wrote to the Bishop, my
old and intimate friend. I speak from recollection
now only ; but I think the delay might have been in
part occasioned by his disappointment at the execu
tion of the work, and his consequent unwillingness
to connect himself with it so closely as he might
seem to do, if he formally licensed its use in his
diocese. He had, however, another ground ; for it
seemed to him, at least, very doubtful whether he
had any authority as diocesan to issue such a licence :
and he accordingly contented himself with leaving
Keble and any other incumbents in the diocese at

" Oxford Psalter!'' 257
liberty to use it at their own discretion without his
inquiry or interference.
Keble was content with this, and the version was
published, with a dedication to the Bishop of Oxford.
Writing to me on May 1, 1839, he says : —
" I do not the least wonder at the Bishop's or any one
else feeling disappointed at the execution of the work.
I am sure I should be so most exceedingly, if I could
come to it as a reader. The truth is, I really believe it
impossible, and intended to be so, for reasons which I
shall endeavour to explain in the Preface, if the book ever
comes out."
Accordingly in the Preface he says : —
" The Version was undertaken in the first instance with
a serious apprehension, which has since grown into a full
conviction, that the thing attempted is, strictly speaking,
impossible." This Preface is well worth reading, in which he
gives the reasons at length for this assertion. Arch
bishop Howley is said to have pronounced, with his
peculiar neatness of expression, a criticism at once
conclusive, and yet personally flattering: "Mr. Keble's
work has demonstrated the truth of his position."
The general substitution of hymns in the Church
service for metrical versions of the Psalms might
have been alone conclusive against the general in
troduction of this version into our parish churches.
But I think in the remark which I have cited from
S

258 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Keble's letter a fallacy exists, which has operated
unfairly on the general opinion as to the work ; he
says, " I should have been exceedingly disappointed
myself if I could come to it as a reader!' Now it
seems to me that a version of the Psalms should
never be considered as a book of poetry to be read,.
but as a collection of hymns, or sacred songs to be
sung congregationally ; and after satisfaction as to
its faithfulness, the only question is whether it is
that which lends itself to effective and harmonious
congregational singing. It must be familiar to all
of us how in some of our grandest oratorios we lose
all sense of the tameness or poverty of the verse
where it fits itself well to noble music. He who
versifies the Psalms, therefore, for choral singing,
should have some musical science, and much musical
taste. Keble was not well qualified in these respects,
nor am I competent to say how far he has succeeded.
But I have confidence in his version being faithful,
and I think I find it useful to refer to when I want
to extract the meaning of an expression in our autho
rized versions, or to trace the sequence of the argu
ment. I trust the version will not be omitted, though
I suppose it may not be largely read, in the com
plete collection of Keble's " Poetical Works," which
is promised us.
This year it was Keble's turn as Poetry Professor
to deliver the Creweian Oration at the Oxford Com
memoration ; and among the select few on whom

Creweian Oration. 259
it was proposed to confer honorary degrees was
William Wordsworth. The Poetry Professor and the
Public Orator deliver this Oration in alternate years,
but it is the duty of neither, as such, to present for
their degrees those distinguished persons on whom
they are to be conferred. I believe this office is
always performed by the Regius Professor of Civil
Law ; and certainly Keble did not present the Poet
on the occasion in question ; as Dr. Wordsworth
(who, being a Cambridge man, may well be excused
for inaccuracy in such a matter at Oxford) states
in his life. But Keble would know of the intention
to confer the degree, and it would be easy enough
to introduce the incident into the speech which he
had to deliver; having the manuscript before me,
I see that the passage originally formed part of it.
He would gladly embrace the opportunity of pay
ing him honour; he had been for many years an
enthusiast in his admiration of the man and the
poet ; though I believe he was first introduced to
him personally at this Commemoration, by the Rev.
F. A. Faber, at whose rooms in Magdalen College
he met him by invitation. The Oration com
mences with pointing out a close analogy between
the Church and the University as institution's, and
after tracing this out in several particulars, notices
a supposed and very important failure of the ana
logy in respect to the poorer classes, to whom the
gates of the latter are not practically open, nor in-

260 Memoir of the Rev. John KebU.
struction afforded. This failure the orator then pro
ceeds to explain and neutralize so far as he is
able, and towards the close he is brought in very
natural course to the passage in question : Dr.
Wordsworth has printed it in the original. I am
tempted to add a poor but tolerably faithful trans
lation : —
" On this also I might insist, that the University, and so
Letters themselves, cannot well be without that austere and
solid sweetness, with which youth well and wisely spent in
poverty is wont to flavour those who are submitted to its
training. But I judged, Gentlemen of the University, that
-I should satisfy, and more than satisfy, what this topic de
mands, if only I should recall to your recollection him,
(specially now as in this honourable circle which surrounds
me he is himself present,) who of all poets, and above all
has exhibited the manners, the pursuits, and the feelings,
religious and traditional, of the poor, — I will not say in
a favourable light merely, but in a light which glows with
the rays of heaven. To his poetry, therefore, they should,
I think, be now referred, who sincerely desire to under
stand and feel that secret harmonious intimacy which ex*
ists between honourable Poverty, and the severer Muses,
sublime Philosophy, yea, even our most holy Religion."
Wordsworth was exceedingly gratified by this un
expected tribute, which was received in the crowded
Theatre with hearty and general applause, according
well with the universal shout with which his name
was received, when announced by the Professor in
presenting him.

Creweian Oration. 261

Dr. Wordsworth well remarks : —
" What a contrast was this to the reception which, a few
years before, Mr. Wordsworth had experienced from the
most celebrated critics of England, and from the Hterary
world at large."
When the Pralectiones were concluded and pub
lished, Keble sealed his testimony by dedicating
the volume to Wordsworth, with an inscription very
beautiful in itself, and peculiarly gratifying to the
Poet, as describing very correctly what it had been
his object, as a Poet, to accomplish by his writings.

CHAPTER XII.
1840. — LIBRARY QF THE FATHERS. — CHARLES MAR
RIOTT. — DR. ARNOLD. — TRACT 90, AND SUBSE
QUENT PROCEEDINGS.
PERHAPS I ought to have mentioned earlier
an undertaking in which Keble began to be
engaged as early as 1838, and to which he attached
much importance, the Library of the Fathers. It
was this, I think, which first brought publicly into
connection the three names which for a long time
thenceforward, through good report and evil report,
were intimately associated together, — those of Pusey,
Keble, and Newman ; two of them still survive, of
whom it is no part of my present duty, and might
be a breach of another, to say more than what is
inseparably connected with my memoir of the de
ceased. All three were of the same College, and
though of different standings, had been brother Fel
lows ; they were specially bound together by a com
mon zeal for the Church of England, and a general
agreement of belief and opinions.
The undertaking just mentioned was one fruit of
this zeal and agreement ; they proposed to edit
translations of the whole or of selected works of
certain of the Fathers who had flourished previously
to the division of Christendom into East and West,

Library ofthe Fathers. 263
and also in certain cases of the original texts. They
constituted themselves editors, and made themselves
responsible for the selection of the works, and the
faithfulness of the translations, and it must be add
ed, for the general management of the whole publi
cation ; but they relied for the execution of the parts
on the help of a considerable number of gentlemen,
whose names appeared either in the prospectus, or
in the course of the issue, many of them men of
mark, and well known in both Universities. They
themselves declined all pecuniary profit.
It is an impediment to the success of all such
undertakings almost inseparable from them, the ob
vious risk that what requires so many hands, and
so much time, will never be carried on to completion ;
the Editors sought to extenuate this as much as
possible by allowing subscriptions for separate works,
and by making these separate works of convenient
and inexpensive magnitude. But they could not
foresee, or provide against the calamity of losing the
services of one of the most active and able of their
own number; or the troubles and differences which
were before long to divide the University, — and the
Library still remains incomplete, — a disappointment
to those interested in possessing it ; yet it is still for
use very valuable to any one who wishes to read, or
consult, some of the most important of the Fathers,
especially I mention Chrysostom and Augustine, in
the course of his study of the Scriptures. It was
scarcely to be expected that the translations in

264 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
general, though they might faithfully render the
opinions and arguments of Augustine and Chryso
stom, should give us to the life the short, close,
epigrammatic manner of the former, or the luxuriant
eloquence of the latter. Keble was conscious of this ;
in a letter to me he says : —
" Have you looked into any of our volumes of the Fa
thers ? I am just finishing the Revisal of S. Chrysostom
on the iBt Corinthians, which is hardish work. I fear we
are too literal, but it is the best extreme."
To which opinion I think all would subscribe.
The loss of one of their own number, to which I
have alluded, was supplied by them as well as they
were able by the accession of Charles Marriott, also
a Fellow of Oriel. I recall the name of a man justly
dear to many, and too early taken from us ; a man
of great learning and ability, but more remarkable
for his rare simplicity, zeal, and purity, of a charity
in one sense bounded only by his means, in another
and higher unbounded. He died in the prime of
life, still a Fellow.
Keble was greatly interested in this undertaking,
as might be supposed, but, judging only from the
initials affixed to the Prefaces, (some of which I
may observe in passing have a considerable inde
pendent value,); he does not appear to have taken
a very active part in it, compared with Mr. Newman,
so long as he remained one ofthe body ; or Dr. Pusey,
who laboured throughout with his accustomed in-

Library of the Fathers. 265
dustry. His most important contribution, however,
has not yet appeared, a translation of S. Irenaeus ;
which, I am told, is now being carried through the
press by Mr. Liddon.
In the course of 1839 Cornish had been making
a tour in different parts of England, and among
other friends had visited Arnold at Foxhow. He
must have written to Keble mentioning this. Keble
answers him on "Old Christmas Day, as the folks
call it," 1840 :—
" I am glad of your account of Arnold, which quite agrees
with what I had been led to hope. His feelings seem much
mitigated towards his old friends; but I wish I could see
some fair sign of his taking a better view of great questions.
In consequence of your letter I wrote a Hne to him to-day,
with a proof leaf of a new Tract for the Times, in which it
came in somehow to find fault with some of his specula
tions. How he will take it I don't know, but it seemed
to me kinder that I should let him know, than that he
should light upon it in print without notice. It does not
name him, nor is it, I hope, very severe."
On St. Mark's Day following he had to write
again to Cornish upon the death of his youngest
sister, an event which for particular reasons moved
him very tenderly; in the course of his note he
says : —
" One surely feels more and more the privilege of being
allowed to remember one's departed friends in private
prayer, and secretly at the altar."

266 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
And at the close he adds : —
" I have had a very kind and comfortable Easter Letter
from Arnold."
I find in a letter from Arnold to me, written soon
after, the following passage : —
"I have heard from old Keble, to whom I could not
help writing in the hope of getting some friendly commu
nication with him once againi And his answer was such
as to make me heartily glad that I had written to him."
In the summer of this year Mrs. Keble, who had
again been very unwell, was so far recovered as to
be able to accompany him in a tour which he made
in North Wales ; it was made indeed in great mea
sure to give her change of scene and sea air, her
great specific. He wrote to me from Barmouth,
where they were halting in a lodging on the level
of the sea, and with great convenience for boating,
the best of exercises for her. He was at the time
helping Mrs. Davison, then a widow, in publishing
the scattered opuscula of her deceased husband, and
he wrote to me for some help. This subject was
renewed in a letter which I received from him early
in December of the same year, from which I must
make some extracts on two or three different sub
jects. Mrs. Keble had again become ill, and was
very slowly recovering when he wrote. After de
scribing this illness, he goes on : —
" I was thinking of writing to you when your letter came,

Arnold and Keble. 267
for Heathcote told me he had heard not a good account
of Mary." She was his godchild, and he seldom failed to men
tion her with affectionate interest in his letters : —
" He did not say any thing of your wife being unwell. I
trust both are now better, and that you are yourself enabled
to nurse your winter cough a little. I expected to hear you
were at Oxford, from what John said, when I just hailed
him there ; and I very much regretted at the time that I
had not paid my visit one week later ; it would, have been
a great and peculiar pleasure to walk about with you, and
gaze on some of the old places. I missed seeing M. Arnold,
(who was also his godchild,) but had a very kind note from
him, in answer to one that I sent. I live in hopes of coming
into full communication with Rugby again one of these days.
As to dear old Dyson, I hear from him to-day an improved
account, both of himself ahd of his two wives.
" I am rather busy just now, having sent a bundle of
papers to the Tract Press on the Mysticism of the Fathers,
a subject on which I feel that I can only just make a be
ginning ; but if one can draw attention, I shall be satisfied.
Moreover, we are just putting the last hand to the volume
of Davison's ' Remains.' (By-the-bye, I never thanked you
for your kindness in that matter.) I am just now puzzling
myself how, in the quietest and best way, to counteract the
ill and false impression which the Bishop of Llandaff and
poor Lord Dudley have been spreading abroad concerning
his conversation. Mr. Markland kindly got Murray's leave
to reprint the articles from the Q. R., and he has also pro
cured the suppression of the unworthy sentences in the new
Edition of Lord Dudley's Letters. ... I love to think of
your little Church, and it shall go hard, but I' offer a small

268 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
trifle, (I fear very small,) to it, but I shall know better after
Christmas." It is not material now to ascertain what "the un
worthy sentences" were to which Keble refers, but
they undoubtedly had given Mrs. Davison much
pain, and he was very sensitive in regard to Davison.
There certainly was in Davison's manner and talk
something not exactly finical, yet over precise, and
constrained, something of a want of ease and natu
ralness, which, in the freedom of private correspond
ence, might provoke a sarcastic remark from Lord
Dudley ; and there was a difference moreover in the
natures of Davison and the • Bishop, which might
make the latter, good-natured as he was, and cer
tainly esteeming the former highly, somewhat less
careful than he might have been in regard to such
passages as Keble regretted.
My principal object, however, in printing these
extracts, was to give my readers a glimpse in pass
ing of the real state of feeling which existed be
tween my two dear friends ; both of whom in a true
sense I may call great men.
There is a very interesting letter from Arnold to
myself, printed in the second volume of his Life by
Dr. Stanley, which, in tracing the formation of his
opinions and character, shews what they were during
the greater part of his residence at Oxford; then
and there it was that the intimate friendship be
tween him and Keble commenced ; and this ex-

Arnold and Keblet 269
plains what might seem at first a difficulty, how
they became so closely united. Radical differences
of opinion subsequently arising upon subjects which
each held to be of vital importance, had interrupted
their intimate intercourse, and that intercourse had
been too intimate, and their love for each other too
deep, to admit of their putting themselves on the
footing of mere friendly acquaintance. It was to
be expected, too, that as each advanced, (and each
certainly did advance,) farther and farther in his
own line, the difference between them would be
come wider, and the condemnation, by each, of the
other's opinions, more intense. If Keble's language
respecting Arnold had been occasionally stronger
than that of Arnold respecting Keble, (and I really
do not think it was,) it would have been no more
than was to be expected ; for in his view the differ
ence was on things sacred, his nature was very sen
sitive, and his attention was not, like Arnold's, oc
cupied on a variety of subjects, a circumstance of
course tending to diminish its intensity on any
one. But all the time in the hearts of both the
early love remained ineradicable ; these extracts are
little indications of that, of which I can speak be
side from personal knowledge ; and I feel sure that
had it not pleased God to take one away in the
very prime of his life, they would have learned to
look through their differences, and to have set
against each other's supposed errors that greatness

270 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
of mind, goodness of intention, and loving-hearted-
ness which they cpuld not but recognise in each
other; each might have admitted a salutary dis
trust of his own very strong opinions, and indulged
finally in what both so longed for, their old affec
tion for and admiration of each other. If this be
a piece of what Keble and Froude called the Cole
ridge Heresy, I hope it will be forgiven. -
It appears in the course of these extracts that
Keble was not in 1840 at all contemplating what
was so soon to burst out at Oxford in respect of
the Tracts. He was evidently intending to finish
the essay which he had commenced in the 89th,
when the publication of the celebrated 90th brought
the whole series to an abrupt termination. The part
which Keble took as to the tract itself, and the pro
ceedings which followed, make it unfitting for me,
however much I might wish it, wholly to pass over
these transactions in silence.
The Tract is dated " The Feast of the Conversion
of S. Paul, 1 841;" shortly after appeared what has
since been called the Letter of the Four Tutors
reflecting upon it, addressed to the Editor of the
Tracts for the Times, and requesting him to make
known the name of the writer of the Tract. Mr.
Newman answered them at once, and his letter pro
fessed at least to remove one principal ground on
which the censure in their's was rested ; he also
commenced immediately the preparation of a Letter

Tract 90. 271

to Dr. Jelf, in explanation and justification of the
Tract. But both of these measures might for any
immediate purpose have been spared, so rapid were
the proceedings of the Hebdomadal Board. The
Letter of the Tutors was published, I believe, on
a Monday ; it was laid before the Board, with the
Tract, on Wednesday ; a censure was agreed to on
the Friday, and on the following Monday in form
pronounced and published. In the meantime Ke
ble had communicated to the Vice-Chancellor that
he was responsible for the Tract, having seen it in
type, agreed to it, and desired it to be published..
Dr. Pusey had written to the same effect. Mr. New
man had applied for a delay of twelve hours, that
he might complete the defence he was preparing in
his Letter to Dr. Jelf; which in point of fact issued
from the press on the Tuesday, the very day after
the publication of the censure.
These are the facts relating to the Tutors' Letter,
and the censure of the Hebdomadal Board ; but it
will be convenient for the right understanding of
their character, and the part which Keble took, if
at the cost of anticipating events I add a few more
particulars. Keble, as I have said, had at once, and
before the censure was determined on, communicated
to the Vice-Chancellor, that he held himself to be
a sharer in the responsibility for publishing the
Tract ; and he was by no means satisfied that the
whole blame, whether deserved or hot, should rest

272 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
on Mr. Newman's shoulders. He accordingly pre
pared and sent to me a letter, with a request which
it may be as well to give in his own words : —
" Hursley,
E. Tuesday, 1841,
" I am going to make a request, quite depending on
your declining it, if it is unpleasant to you, with or with
out giving any reason. It is that you will let your name
be inserted in the blank of the title-page of the pamphlet
whereof I send you a proof. You will see that it is not to
be published, but only printed, and some copies sent to
those whom it is most supposed to concern  You see
I am a good deal concerned in this matter, and have all
along felt as if I was doing wrong in not taking my share
of the annoyance ; and I thought if one could calmly put
one's case before Archdeacons, and those sort of people,
which this mode of printing without publishing enables
one to do, some might be less likely to commit themselves
to what they would be sorry for by and by."
I did not agree in all respects with the course
which had been pursued ; nor indeed had I know
ledge enough of the whole series of the Tracts to
pronounce an opinion upon them. But I did not
think either of these circumstances sufficient to war
rant me in refusing Keble's request ; the granting
such a request does not seem to me to import en
tire assent to all which the letter may contain. Ac
cordingly, the Letter was printed addressed to my
self, and although not published until 1865, or 1866,
it was largely distributed in the course of the con-

Tract 90. 273

flicts wliich disturbed the University in the three or
four years immediately following the printing.
After stating as one motive for writing it, the per
sonal one, " that he is himself responsible, as far as
any one besides the actual writer can be, for the
Tract on which so severe a condemnation has lately
been pronounced by the Heads of Houses at Ox
ford, having seen it in proof and strongly recom
mended its publication," Keble goes on to men
tion a few instances, as examples only, of the need
there was for some explanation of expressions in
certain of the Articles ; and then in the two follow
ing paragraphs he states what he took to be the
object and justification of the Tract : —
" On all these and similar points explanations had been
given in various works, and it seemed desirable to collect
them in one as a kind of manual to assist in what was be
lieved to be the true legitimate catholic exposition of the
Articles, whereby the scruples which were known to exist,
and other similar ones, which may be expected to arise
from time to time, in the interpretation of them as of other
formularies, might be removed, or allayed, and our adhe
rence to primitive antiquity, so far, thoroughly reconciled
with our aUegiance to the Anglican Church.
" Looking in another direction, one seemed to perceive
an additional call for some brief and popular treatise to
the same effect. From various quarters the cry of insin
cerity has been of late more and more loudly raised against
those, who, subscribing these Articles, professed uncom
promising reverence for the Ancient Church; and it was
T

274 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
supposed neither unreasonable nor uncharitable to put
¦within the reach of persons who might find something
plausible in such an outcry, the true account of the several
points of detail, which at first sight would naturally tell in
its favour."
The whole letter is carefully and ably written,
very temperate in language, and charitable in spirit,
its argument more easily brushed away with a con
temptuous word, than answered point by point. It
was, I believe, pretty largely circulated, though with
little immediate success ; three or four years, dreary
years as regarded Oxford, of repeated conflicts en
sued, in which those whom, for want of a better
name, I call the High Church Party, fared but ill
against the bitter hostility and concentrated vigour
of their opponents. Among other fields, on which
the battle was fought, was the Poetry Professorship,
the chair of which, in 1841, Keble ceased to fill, and
was extremely anxious that his friend the late Isaac
Williams should succeed to it. In more peaceful
times it would have seemed a matter of course to
elect him, at least as against his successful opponent ;
but he was known or believed to have contributed to
the Tracts, and the prejudice created by this circum
stance prevailed. At length the contest was in some
sort brought to a head by the announcement of an
intention on the part of the Hebdomadal Board to
submit to Convocation a new test as to the XXXIX
Articles, in the form of a declaration to be made

Tract 90. 275

before subscription, of the sense in which the sub
scriber was about to make it', strange to say this
was to be the sense in which he should believe
them to have been originally published, and to be
now proposed ; the identity of the two being, I sup
pose, in all cases assumed. Upon this issue the
numbers on either side were preparing to be mus
tered ; and whether the objections appeared on con
sideration to be too many, and too serious, or the
prospects of success too uncertain, this was sud
denly withdrawn ; and not long afterward, with only
eight days' notice, a statute was propounded to Con
vocation in substance, if not in terms, the same as
the Censure of 1841, including however the defenders
as well as the authors of Tract 90. An eye-witness
has described to me the scene which the Theatre dis
played, where, by reason of the numbers assembled,
the Convocation was held, when the sense of the
House was to be taken. The great area and the gal
lery were crowded, those who filled them much ex
cited, yet all in suspense ; for a rumour had spread
abroad that the Proctors might perhaps intercede by
a veto ; but few, if any, knew what their intention really
was. The Placetne vobis was at length put, and then
in a still silence which at once pervaded the whole as
sembly these two officers rose from their seats, and the
Senior declared Nobis Procuratoribus noji placet. And
so the test fell ; the Proctors, who had wisely exer
cised their prerogative power, quitted office in a few

276 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble. ¦
weeks, and the measure might have been renewed;
but counsels more wise and perhaps more generous
prevailed ; and happily it was heard of no more.
This narrative of the leading facts, as relating to
Keble, has run to greater length than I anticipated,
but it will still be proper to subjoin one or two
general remarks. It was Mr. Benson, who had
preached and afterwards published some able ser
mons- on the controversy, in the Temple Church, ,
who gave the authors and favourers of the Tracts
the perfectly inoffensive name of Tractarians. . In
the sense of entire agreement with them I never
was a Tractarian ; but I have already said how
much upon the whole I think we owe to them ;
what I now proceed to say will be found, I hope, if
not entirely agreeable to either party, yet not par
tial, nor such as ought justly to give offence.
There is no evidence of indirect motive, or want
of perfect honesty of purpose, in either party in the
commencement of the dispute. From the beginning
to the end the Editors seem to me to have been
actuated by the purest principles ; they were la
bouring, as they believed, in support of the Church
to which they belonged ; they sought to elevate and
purify the principles and practices of her children,
clerical and lay ; of course according to their belief
of what those, rightly understood, were and should
be, — but still in perfect loyalty to her. But this
necessarily called on them to pursue a course which

Tract 90. 277

must wound the honest and sound convictions of
many, and the strong prejudices of more, and which
must condemn the indefensible habits and practices
of not a few ; they were therefore bound to ex
ercise in an especial degree the virtue of Christian
prudence, if only as a necessary condition of suc
cess. I own I think that the 90th Tract, (to go no
farther,) failed in this respect ; and that what en
sued upon it might to some extent have been fore
seen. It is true that there is much justice and much
reasoning not easily answered in the defences and
explanations which were then and have been more
recently put forth in its behalf; but it must be re
membered that it came after a number of essays,
some at least, probably not a few, of which had
tended to give offence and excite suspicion. And it
is strange that it should have been apparently for
gotten that the feeling which it was likely to rouse,
was just that of which the English mind is most
acutely susceptible, and under which, when excited,
it is most indiscriminate and bitter. It is true that
it is a prejudice, and for Anglicans especially the
silliest and most suicidal prejudice, to confound the
Ancient Church with the Roman Catholic; Keble
read the Tract, as it was written, with other lights,
and after a long education of the mind to discri
minate between the two ; but it was not to be pub
lished for such as he ; and when it came before pre
judiced or careless minds, it was calculated to create
the impression that after all the object of the writer

278 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
was to lead men unawares to Romanism ; and they
who thought this would naturally think him dis
honest ; while men neither prejudiced nor careless
might fairly object to a publication which they be
lieved to have that tendency, though, strictly speak
ing, not by his intention. It is not of course for me
to say how it might have been written, and when
I consider from what a clear thinker and perfect
master of language it proceeded, I do not acquit
myself of presumption in venturing to express my
opinion that, with proper guards and limitations
carefully and avowedly set forth, the legitimate end
might have been gained, a useful element imported
into our theology, and the great offence which it
gave avoided. If this were impossible, the serious
question arises, should the Tract ever have been
issued? To this extent, then, the Editors seem to me to
have been blameable ; they had made what lawyers
would call at least a prima facie case against them
selves ; but were they treated properly ? that is, with
strict justice ; even if a tender consideration was not
to be had for them ?
I consider the Letter of the Four Tutors as of no
other weight than as the accusation ; or, to speak
again in the language of a lawyer, the indictment
preferred by four individuals, acting unofficially, but
holding such offices in their Colleges as justified
their interference. The Hebdomadal Board was sub
stantially a Court before which this indictment' was

Tract 90. 279

brought for trial. We all know to what any person
accused before any judge is entitled ; to all this the
Editors were of course entitled. Here, when the Let
ter and the Tract were laid before the Board, it had
both the charge and the evidence offered in support
of it, and no more. It may be taken that it was
not the usual course in such a case to summon the
party, or even to give him any notice of what was im
pending, and therefore, however strange such a prac
tice may be, it cannot fairly be said that any espe
cial unfairness is to be complained of for the want
of these. But the Board knew and were indeed di
rectly informed that three individuals, among the
most eminent in the University, and most blame
less in character, were substantially the persons to
be affected by their decree ; nor could the Board
be ignorant how heavy was the blow which it pro
posed to strike by its sentence. The barest jus
tice therefore required, that if any one of them de
sired to be heard in explanation or mitigation of
the charge, reasonable time should have been af
forded for the purpose ; the more plain the case, the
stronger seemingly the evidence, the more impera
tive in a judicial proceeding was this duty. One can
hardly believe that five days only elapsed from the
commencement of the proceeding to the publication
of the sentence ; and twelve hours of delay were
respectfully solicited for the defence and refused ;
on the sixth day the defence appeared. It is obvi-

280 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
ously quite immaterial to consider whether that de
fence would have availed, or ought to have availed ;
a judgment so pronounced could have no moral
weight. The members of the Board must have
been familiar with and should have remembered the
weighty lines of the Roman Tragedian : —
" Qui statuit aliquid parte inaudita altera,
iEquum licet statuerit, haud sequus fuit."
But from judges they had unfortunately made
themselves parties; and it was impossible after this
that in the course of the subsequent proceedings
in the progress of the controversy, they could be
looked up to as just or impartial. In proportion
to the goodness of their cause, (and no doubt they
believed it to be good,) it was a great opportunity
lost. The subsequently proposed statute was a fit
ting sequel, the same indecent haste prevailed, and
the strong measure of the veto was provoked and
justified. It has been said that the proceeding was not judi
cial, that the sentence was against no person; this
seems to me mere trifling with common sense ; they
who pronounced it must have known that through
the Tract they were striking at the author and de
fenders; and that it was only as it affected them
the sentence could have any meaning or weight
The consequences of it were indeed weighty, but
with these I have now no concern.

CHAPTER XIII.
OTTERBOURNE CHURCH AND PARSONAGE. — AMP-
FIELD CHURCH AND PARSONAGE. — HURSLEY PAR
SONAGE. — "LYRA INNOCENTIUM." — KEBLE'S RESO
LUTION AS TO THE ENGLISH CHURCH. — " MOTHER
OUT OF SIGHT."
IT is pleasant to come back for a while from the
troubled scene at Oxford to the quiet of Hursley,
a quiet which however was full of hope and activity.
I have already given a general account of what the
benefice, which/ Keble was now the incumbent of,
consisted. The Vicarage of Hursley is of large ex
tent, including several hamlets, and having a scat
tered population. Otterbourne is less in size and po
pulation, but its population also is scattered, and for
the most part living at a distance from the church,
which was far too small for its numbers. When
Keble entered on his charge, he found the inha
bitants of Otterbourne busy in endeavouring to add
to it an aisle ; the Bishop had recommended them
to wait until the new Rector had been instituted,
and they had done so. When the matter came be
fore him, their views had enlarged, and in con
sideration of the great inconvenience of the situa
tion, aggravated now by the Railway having been
T 2

282 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
carried near to it, they desired, and he with some
regret acceded to, the erection of a new church on
a more convenient site ; he was unwilling to sepa
rate the church and churchyard, from a feeling which
one cannot but sympathize with ; but he yielded to
the general wish, preserving, however, the old chancel
for the performance of the Burial Service. He con
tributed £400 towards the erection of the new church,
on a site which was given for the purpose by the
President and Fellows of Magdalen College, Oxford,
who are landholders in the parish.
Keble had the good fortune to find among the re
sidents in Otterbourne a relation of mine, William
Crawley Yonge, who having served in the Peninsula
and at Waterloo in the distinguished 52nd, had re
tired from the army upon his marriage at the re-
establishment of the general peace ; though a Light
Infantry officer only, he had been a diligent student
of military engineering, and had made himself a good
military draughtsman. He became Keble's archi
tect : for his designs he had recourse to the great
examples at Winchester, and in its neighbourhood,
and worked out his drawings with infinite care and
patience; he brought his stone from Caen, at that
time a rather unusual thing ; was acute and intel
ligent in making his contracts, and vigilant in see
ing to their faithful execution. The result was a
church not without its faults, and thirty years ago
few churches were built without them, (not many

Otterbourne Church. 283
indeed now,) but effective in its architectural cha
racter, and on the whole, with reference to its date,
convenient in its arrangements. Keble of course
considered a parsonage necessary to complete his
designs for the parish ; accordingly he purchased
a site, and, with the same help from the same archi
tect, erected a handsome and commodious residence
for the Curate whom he placed there ; these last
measures were at his sole expense.
While the Otterbourne Church was in course of
erection, Sir William Heathcote was busy in pre
paring for building, entirely at his own expense,
a second church in Hursley parish, at Ampfield ;
and this was also undertaken and executed by the
same volunteer architect, with at least equal suc
cess. I take pleasure in recording these labours
of the retired soldier, performed at a time when
regularly trained architects were not so numerous
as now, and when the principles of architecture, and
their application, were comparatively little studied.
The works too were performed without ostentation,
and with most commendable patience and zeal. I
should add that in respect of both these churches,
W. C. Yonge was assisted as to some details by
Mr. Carter, now deceased, then an architect residing
at Winchester.
The situation of Ampfield Church is very beau
tiful, and that of the churchyard remarkably so,
sheltered on the north and east by wood and wood-

284 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
land, open on the south and west, and commanding
a beautiful and extensive view; flourishing ever
greens adorn it ; the road from Winchester to Rom
sey runs by the open side, which gives a special ap
propriateness to a fountain surmounted by a cross,
which is close to one of the entrances to the church
yard ; it bears the inscription following : —
" While cooling waters here ye drink,
Rest not your thoughts below ;
Look to the sacred sign, and think '
Whence living waters flow ;
Then fearlessly advance by night or day,
The holy Cross stands guardian of your way."
Many years have passed since I stood on this
spot, but I remember well, that even with the close
neighbourhood of a turnpike road, the prevailing
character of the whole' scene was one of solemn
rest, and almost seclusion ; the dark background of
foliage perhaps helps to produce this effect.
A very short inscription on the basin into which
the water pours, in German character, and German
words, headed with the initials of three names, hardly
serves to convey information to the common way
faring man, that it was placed there in memory
of a holy fountain seen by the three friends when
on a tour together in the Tyrol. One of these three,
Lady Heathcote, for I will take leave to add her
name, furnished the inscription which I have printed
above.

Ampfield Church. 285

Mr. Savage, from whose work I have freely re
freshed my memory, mentions the placing in the
church of a stained - glass window in memory of
John Keble ; it is the gift of the parishioners, and
records their grateful remembrance of his services ;
the design was given by Mr. Butterfield, and £25
out of £33, the cost of the window, were returned
by Mr. Wailes to the Keble College Fund. These
are, it may be, little facts, but I do not like to pass
them over in silence.
The building of Ampfield Church, and the con
stitution of a separate district for it, relieved Keble
from a considerable part of his burthen, the whole of
which was too heavy to be borne by a single pastor ;
and he no doubt gladly consented, by the apportion
ment of part of the rent-charge of the Vicarage, to
lay the foundation of an endowment for the new
district This was completed by a grant made from
the Great Tithes by the Dean and Chapter of Win
chester, and a fund subscribed by the parishioners ;
to which a single individual, Mr. White, of Ampfield
House, contributed £500. Sir William Heathcote
gave a pleasant parsonage and field, and Mr. Wil
son, Keble's first Curate, became the first Perpetual
Curate of the new' district.
I may add here that Sir William had also before
this conveyed to the Vicar of Hursley, as the Vicar
age, the house, which he had in the beginning oc
cupied only as tenant.

286 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
The particulars of this narrative are surely plea
sant to think upon ; it was in this spirit, I con
ceive, that our Parochial System first took its be
ginning ; a liberal landholder, a zealous tenantry,
an earnest Priest, all concurring to raise in a cer
tain district the first daughter church to the great
cathedral mother; and the system itself furnishing
facilities, as time passed on, and the population,
cultivation of the land, and wealth increased, for
subdivisions to be made, and new daughter churches
to spring up. Such a system, so favourable for the
maintenance and growth of religious feelings and
practices, we should surely cling to ; where it is pos
sible, as in the country it generally is, even in its de
tails ; and where not so, as may be the case in our
overgrown towns and cities, in that which is more
important, its principles.
The erection of these two churches in his cure was
matter of deep joy and gratitude to Keble. The
remainder of his scattered flock, with an exception
as to a hamlet called Pitt, which was provided for
afterwards, was now within more easy distance of
Hursley Church ; but their erection naturally turned
his thoughts more actively towards that church which
was daily under his eye. It was; according to the
fashion of many in Hampshire, of brick, well and
solidly constructed, and it was in good substantial
repair. It had been built by Sir William's great
grandfather towards the end of George the Second's

Hursley Church. 287

reign, probably on the site where one of stone had
stood before, for it was attached at the west end
to a massive tower of flint and hewn stone, sur
mounted by a brick parapet ; it was arranged and
furnished within after the fashion of the eighteenth
century. Within and without the whole was pain
fully unsatisfactory to Keble. It may be remem
bered how, in a letter from him on his first coming
to Hursley as Curate, when he enumerated the ob
jects which he found there to his liking, he men
tions the tower, and is silent as to the church. He
was at the time fresh from the noble church at Fair
ford ; but the feeling grew on him ; nothing that
was appropriate could be to his mind too beautiful
or rich for God's house. I find him, in a letter to
Cornish, dated Oct. 19, 1846, writing thus: —
" We are stirring about our church, under the patronage
of the Venerable Bede, and . next spring I trust we shall
really go to work ; you must come and see the plans first,
or else hereafter for ever hold your peace, in respect of
alleging impediments. One feels that one's advanced age
has not rendered one fitter to set about such works ; but
really the irreverence and other mischiefs caused by the
present state of Hursley Church seem to leave one no
choice." Two or three subjects of course engrossed his at
tention at once in consequence of his resolving upon
this undertaking, and it will be better for me to follow
him throughout in regard to these, postponing for

288 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
the time other matters which I shall have to men
tion, and which occurred before and during the pro
secution. Scarcely anything seemed to him of more
importance ; and his frequent letters to Dyson, shew
that he spared neither money, nor time, nor thought,
nor bodily labour, in doing as well as he could wflat
he had set about.
He was first to determine as to an architect : was
he to call on William Yonge to do for Hursley what
he had done for Otterbourne and Ampfield ? As
to this he might have felt some little delicacy, but
William Yonge at once removed it ; he not only
cordially concurred in the desire to employ a pro
fessional architect, but advised it strongly in con
sideration of the much more varied and complicated
work now to be done. Keble accordingly wrote to
Mr. Harrison, of whom he had heard well "from
various quarters independent of each other," and
who was beside a relation of his old friend ofthe
same name, the Archdeacon of Maidstone. He ac
cordingly became the architect.
The procuring tenders, and contracting with build
ers, were matters to come on subsequently; but at
once, of course, he was to consider his funds. He
had determined to meet himself the whole ex
pense of the building, and it was clear, without wait
ing for specification or estimate, that the money
at his own disposal would be inadequate ; it oc
curred to him at first to sell the copyright of

Hursley Church. 289

"The Christian Year." As soon as two or three
of his intimate friends heard of this, we opposed
it very strongly. We had a strong opinion as to
the great pecuniary value of the copyright, and
thought it very unlikely that any publisher look
ing on it as a mere trade speculation, would be
likely to offer a full equivalent ; but we thought
further, that it was exactly the kind of work which
ought to remain as long as possible in the Author's
own hands, and under his own control. Three of
us, therefore, Dyson, Patteson, and myself, proposed
to supply him with money as he should want it for
the building; "The Christian Year" to be our secu
rity. There was no thought or talk of any legal
security by assignment to us ; but I was to arrange
the terms for each edition as it should be called for,
and to receive the price. No doubt this was a con
venience to Keble, and set his mind free from all
anxiety ; but it was no inconvenience to us, nor ulti
mate loss. Keble sacrificed for the time the income
he had used to derive from this source, but he never
lost the ownership of the book, while it was nomi
nally in our hands ; and the beneficial property re
turned to him, when the account was cleared, to be
the means in his hands of supplying comforts which
age and infirmity might make necessaries, and of
feeding that stream of bounty which was constantly
flowing from him. So much has been said of this
arrangement, and sometimes with so much exag-
u

290 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
geration, that it seemed to me right to state the
simple truth regarding it.
I do not know what funds Keble had at his dis
posal beyond the yearly proceeds of "The Chris
tian Year," but it was certain that some further
addition would still be desirable ; to this we owe
the completion and publication at that time of the
Lyra Innocentium. On the 26th of May, 1845, he
wrote to me thus from Hursley Vicarage : —
" I have got a scheme for raising money for the Church,
in which perhaps you can help me; (perhaps the Dysons
may have mentioned it to you;) to publish a. set of things
which have been accumulating for. the last 3 or 4 years,
under the title ol1, Lyra Innocentium, or Thoughts in Verse
on the Sayings and Doings of Little Children, and the Re
velations of God's Will concerning them,' or something to
that effect. As far as I can judge, it may stand as fair
a chance of being profitable as its predecessor. Will it
be asking too much of my kind Committee Men to sug
gest that they should make the bargain for me with Parker,
if they approve it. I could wish to stipulate that Mozley
of Derby should be the Printer. It will be nearly, but not
perhaps quite as big as the C. Y., and .will admit, I think,
more "easily of illustration by the pencil. It has been a
great comfort to me in the desolating anxiety of the last
2 years, arid I wish I could settle at once to some other
such task."
The sorrows and troubles to which he refers under
the touching term of "desolating anxiety," I have
already in part stated ; but he also included that of
which he had now the certain prospect before him,

"Lyra Innocentium" 291
the loss from our Church of that most dear and
honoured friend, with whom for so many years he
"had taken sweet counsel, and walked in the house
of God," heart to heart and mind to mind locked
closely. This was the sorrow of his life, from which
I think he never wholly recovered.
He goes on : —
" I can already judge a Httle of the perplexity and dis
tress which will ensue. Did I teU you that Pusey wrote
some time since to ask whether one could think of any
thing to be done by way of preparation for the blow. Does
anything occur to you ? I wish P. himself, Moberly, Mar
riott, and Manning, &c, to apply themselves to the study
of the controversy, for I am sure there wiU be great need
of them."
I shall have occasion soon to enter more into
Keble's own thoughts on this matter. I pursue at
present the subject ofthe Lyra.
Specimens were sent very soon after both to Dy
son, (or I should rather say to the Dysons, for the
ladies there were always most properly included in
the council,) and to myself. We all agreed in our
admiration of them, and also in the token they
gave that Keble had advanced considerably in his
religious opinions. On grounds partly of actual
disagreement, and partly of the imprudence, at all
events, of publishing them at that critical time, we
objected to the insertion of two or three of the
poems. There was one especially, perhaps the most

292 Memoir of tlie Rev. John Keble.
beautiful of the whole, upon which we wrote to him,
after I had been to Dogmersfield to confer upon it.
This poem, as commonly happens in such a case,
has been much talked of, and has been seen by
many people ; and it seems to me both just to Ke
ble's memory, and a part of the duty of an honest
biographer, to publish it now at a time, when, even
if it might have been harmful originally, it can do no
harm, and may help to establish that legitimate, and
as I believe, Scriptural reverence which is due to the
object of it. He wrote to me respecting it thus : —
"H. V., 18 June, 1845.
" My dear Coleridge,
" You may believe that as far as trade is concerned, your
opinion and Dyson's is very welcome to me, and I am quite
willing to make the bargain with Parker which you think
equitable. I of course rather expected that some would
demur to the things which you mention, and indeed I se
lected on purpose the three which I thought most likely
to attract such objections as part ofthe specimen. But to
say the truth, I did not expect that Mrs. and Miss Dyson
would have objected on their own account ; and it makes
me even sadder than I was before, as shewing how very
very far even the purest specimens of the English Church
are from the Whole Church everywhere else. You see
when I recommend the Ave, I mean merely the Scrip
tural part ; but if such persons have this feeling, I suppose
even this must be given up. With regard to the verse
' He calls thee Mother evermore ;'
if the Gospel is His word, and if the Gospel calls her His

" Lyra Innocentium!' 293
Mother, and if the doctrinal decisions of the Whole Church
are His words, and if they caU her ecoTd/eos, how can it be
other than true, and so true, that to deny or doubt it is
touching a very vital part of the Faith. Indeed, when I
think of it, I am sure I must misunderstand your objec
tion ; would it be removed if the word ' owns' were put
for 'caUs.' This, however, I only ask for my own satis
faction, for I see that it is quite impossible to print those
verses in the face of such a feeHng as you express on the
part of the Dysons, and I cannot see my way to any de
cent abridgement or modification. I have made up my
mind also to the omission of the other two. I only wish
I had some good substitutes.
" No doubt there would be the difference in tone which
you take notice of between this and the former book, for
when I wrote that, I did not understand, (to mention no
more points,) either the doctrine of Repentance, or that of
the Holy Eucharist, as held e.g. by Bp. Ken ; nor that of
Justification : and such points as those must surely make
a great difference. But may it please God to preserve me
from writing as unreally and as deceitfully as I did then ;
and if I could teU you the whole of my shameful history,
you would join with all your heart in this prayer. Pray do
so, dear friend, for indeed there is great need.
"But not now to talk of myself; if the verses are less
comfortable, perhaps they may be of more use as making
their readers, the younger ones especiaUy, famUiar with
some of the great truths ; and I suppose I had some fancy
of this kind in the one which you so much doubt about.
If we come when we hope, we wUl bring up the whole
batch, and you wiU be better able to judge.
" In the Lifting up to the Cross, (which was suggested
by a drawing of Miss T.'s, taken from the Hfe,) the 'be-

294 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
lieving Isle,' is Ireland ; the scene should have been Bel
gium, but I made it Italy by mistake.
"I thought that case of Simeon was an Ulustration of
the principle I was laying down, that great spiritual favours
-must expect to be accompanied with suffering ; and I sup
pose death is in itself so awful a thing as to warrant the ex
pression, ' deep agony.' But this might be easily changed."
Then, after writing on entirely different matters,
he adds these very touching words : —
" I am sure I ought quite to share in your feeling, that
it is not for those to be judging between different Churches
who have made such UI use, as I for one have, of present
helps to holiness. (This is not humility, mock or real, but
plain and sad truth, as you would say, if you knew all.)
And with this thought I suppose I should content myself,
if a Layman, as far as controversy is concerned ; but it
keeps coming unpleasantly before me that this is hardly
consistent with the Priest's office ; and especiaUy when, as
sometimes happens, I am asked for advice, then indeed I
have had to think of the blind leading the blind. And yet
I suppose I am not really uncomfortable, I eat, drink, and
sleep, as if nothing was the matter.
" I hope Charlotte is rather better ; with all love, again
your's ever dearest friend, "J. K."
It will scarcely be supposed that I publish a let
ter, however deeply interesting in itself, so liable
to misconstruction, without much consideration. I
am to represent my friend for good and for evil
truly, if I undertake to write his life at all. This

"Lyra Innocentium!' 295
is a part, and sometimes a painful part, of the com
pact which a biographer makes with the pubhc, when
he undertakes to write a life. Keble I am sure
needs no panegyric at the expense of truth, nor do
I think that when what he says of himself in this
letter is fairly considered, it will be found that he
needs an apologist. He writes indeed bitter things
against himself, we are bound to believe sincerely,
and I am sure without any intentional exaggera
tion ; but I am as certain as I can be in a matter
which does not admit of demonstrative evidence,
that there is all that exaggeration, which is, I may
say, the natural growth of remarkable purity of
heart, and the most unusual humility. Something I
have said on this subject before, which I need not
repeat : but this I must add, that had there been
any reasonable foundation for the language which
Keble uses in regard to himself, he ought to have
added something more to it to make it the whole
truth; he ought indeed to have spoken of himself
as also the most consummate of hypocrites. I say
this not with reference to the world in general, but
he and I lived on terms of such entire intimacy, that
if there were any foundation for his strong expres
sions, nothing but the most artful and systematic
hypocrisy could have prevented my knowing some
thing of it; yet on me he has left, and he must
have known that he was leaving, the deepest and
simplest impression of the most spotless purity in

296 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
words, thoughts, impulses, and acts from youth to
old age, of any human being I have ever seen or
known of How I answered this part of his letter at
the time, I do not now recollect ; probably I passed
it by in silence, for I had long learned that he took
nothing so ill as words of praise, or vindication of
himself from himself.
I rather fear that I have been induced by the re
markable intensity of his language to say more on
this subject, than , was needful. It is, indeed, an
awful consideration. that such a man should be able
to write of himself sincerely in such language; We
are not often allowed to see into the inward thoughts
of holy men respecting themselves, and surely when'
we are, it should not lead us to think ill of them,
but should serve to rouse us out of. our own easy
goings on. Let my readers turn to the strong lan
guage of the. Private Devotions of Bishop Andrewes,
said to have been printed from a manuscript wet
with, his frequent tears; no one can doubt their sin
cerity, yet no one ought to doubt the purity of his
spirit, or the holiness of his life.
Now I pass. to the other matter discussed, in the
letter, or rather suggested by it. Here, again, allow
ance must be made for the same humility which ex
tended to his notions of himself intellectually, and
in regard of his acquirements and knowledge, .' as
well as to ;.all his considerations of himself morally.
In truth he had been a more than commonly well-

Religious Difficulties. 297
grounded student in theology ; his reading was
extensive, and his recollection very accurate ; and
although circumstances had for some years directed
his attention more to the divisions in the Reformed
Church, than to the great controversy between Rome
and the Reformation, he was by no means ignorant
in this. I believe his position to have been of this
sort. All his associations, early and late, were with
the Church of his Fathers ; the loyal and affec
tionate language in respect of her to be found every
where in " The Christian Year" was not merely po
etical, it was sincere. But he had grown up in the
High Church School, and as a High Churchman
naturally will do, he looked upwards through the
Reformation to the Primitive and the Undivided
Church ; he loved his own Branch as, on the whole,
a faithful representative on earth of that Church ;
the more truly and exactly she represented it, the
more did he think her excellent, and to be loved ;
the more she admitted what he called Puritanical
Doctrines or Practices, the less loyal and dutiful
could he be. Coin and his father on the one hand,
Fairford and its incumbent on the other, were ever in
his recollection ; and he saw with the greatest grief
the uprising and growth of the latter school, from
a state in which it might be thought to have needed
greater tolerance than it received, into equality first,
and then predominance, not always used with per
fect charity or fairness. Again, he was troubled with

298 Memoir of tite Rev. John Keble.
the entire want of discipline in the Church ; and it
seemed to him, from his own experience as a Pastor,
that this, coupled with the disuse of Confession, left
him without the means of acquiring a proper know
ledge of the condition of his flock, and without power
of enforcing upon them amendment of life. He was
moreover much dissatisfied not only with some of
the decisions, but with the jurisdiction of the Final
Court of Appeal ; did its decrees respecting Sacra
ments bind the Church ? had She the means of pro
testing against them, and did She by her silence
acquiesce in them ?
These were troubles on one side ; on the other he
could not but know of the doubts, in favour of Rome,
which were arising in the heart and head of one
whom perhaps of all his intimate friends he most
loved, and leaned on in such matters ; doubts the
more perplexing to him, because he knew they were
not invited wantonly, and yet continued to increase
in strength, until they issued, to use that friend's
own language, in "a strong intellectual conviction
that the Roman Catholic System and Christianity
were convertible terms." There may be many, not
perhaps those who have read or thought most deeply ,
on the controversy, who can see in all this no reason
able, or even excusable grounds for doubt, or trouble
of mind. Keble, however, was not one of those; he
had both ; and it is matter for the deepest grati
tude that he was supported under them, and guided

Religious Difficulties. 299
safely through them. The process through which he
passed may be traced in his letters which lie before
me. In the first place, and from the beginning to
the end, he had a deep conviction that, let what
would happen in England, there was that in Rome
to which he could not reconcile his belief : —
" I cannot go to Rome," he wrote to me in 1841, "till
Rome be much changed indeed ; but I may be driven out
of the English Church, should that adopt the present set
of Charges and Programmes ; and many will, I fear, not
be content to be nowhere, as I should feel it my duty to
try to be."
And, again, in the same year he writes : —
" As to Rome, I thought I had said in my letter to you,
that come what wiU, it would be impossible [twice under
scored] for me to join it until it is other than at present;
Archbishop Laud's saying as I think ; and I suppose you
would not yourself say, that if Rome altered her terms of
communion to a certain extent, such communion ought not
to be sought. The contingency that I contemplate, a very
dreary one, but such an one as I, ought not to think it
strange if I incur it, is, not going to Rome, but being driven
out of aU communion whatever. I cannot hide it from
myself that two Prelates have distinctly denied an article
of the Apostles' Creed, the H. C, Ch. ; and that while no
notice is taken of them, attempts are being made in Oxford,
and in many Dioceses at once, to enforce a view equivalent ¦
to theirs; which view, if it were adopted, would drive me,
and, as I suppose, all Cathohc Christians, out of Commu
nion. If I were Hke some whom I could name, I suppose
I should look at this more calmly, but it would take a long

300 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
time to prepare me as they are prepared. Pray think of
me as kindly as you can, and do not forget me when and
where you know one would most wish to be remembered."
In this state of mind he continued for some
time : it is indicated in the touching passage I now
extract from a letter to me in June, 1843. This
had been a year of trial for myself, and I reluct
antly pass over the touching and affectionate lan
guage in which he consoled me under great sorrow;
but I will not interrupt the present consideration by
anything personal to myself : —
" What a comfort," says he to me, " in your late deep
affliction, must it have been to be so sure as you all are
of sympathizing entirely one with another; and by this
time I hope the bitterness has passed away with you all.
Of course I cannot tell how a parent feels, but it seems to
> me that the unsettled state of our Church tends to make
me think more of the joy and comfort of those who are in
peace out of sight ; and as things get more perplexing, I
keep saying to myself, it ought to make me more charitable,
and then the next minute I go away and rail at those un
happy . . . without mercy. I suppose we all want to learn
how to act, when in doubt ourselves, and how to make al
lowance for others who feel certain when we are doubtful."
Again, in October of the same year, he writes
to me : —
" I suppose from some part of your letter that you have
been told of my speaking to friends occasionally, as if I was

Religious Difficulties. 301
perplexed about continuing where I am. My perplexity is
rather what to say. to others, who may ask my advice, than
how to act myself. Few persons have a stronger feeling
than I of the duty of continuing where one's lot is cast ;
except where the call to go elsewhere is very plain. It
may be that I do not see my way clearly in the contro
versy between us and Rome ; but as long as I was in
doubt, and perhaps a good deal longer than I might seem
to myself in speculation to be so, I should think it my
duty to stay where I am. Nothing could justify one's
quitting one's Communion, except a long, deliberate, un
willing conviction, forced on one's heart and conscience,
as well as intellect, that it was incurably fallen from being
a Church. No private judgment of the comparative per
fection of another Church, did such exist, would at aU
justify such a change. This, as far as I understand my
self, is my present judgment in this awful matter; but,
believe me, my dearest friend, I want prayer and help
quite as much as N., though for very different reasons."
On St. John's Day in the same year he writes
to me : —
" You will find a good deal of my feelings in an article
which has been reprinted from the ' Christian Remem
brancer,' I mean especially when that speaks of the prac
tical failure of the EngHsh Church, which I feel more and
more deeply every day ; chiefly in that I find myself more
and more oppressed with the consciousness of my own
ignorance, and how blindly I go about the Parish, not
knowing what men are reaUy doing; and whenever I do
make any discoveries, they disclose a fearful state of things ;
and even when there is some seriousness, of respect and

302 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

confidence towards the Priest as such there is none, or
next to none. In short, our one great grievance is the
neglect of Confession. Until we can begin to revive that,
we shall not have the due severity in our religion; and
without a severe religion, I fear our Church will practi
cally fail."
He pursues the same subject in a letter dated on
the Purification, 1844: —
"Another reason for my being a worse correspondent
than usual, is that somehow or another the Parish takes
up more and more time ; as one gets more acquainted with
the people, more and more things occur, which make me
think a visit worth while. This is a reason for which I
ought to be very thankful, though it is sad to think after
all how very little one knows of one's people. We go on
working in the dark, and in the dark it will be, until the
rule of systematic Confession is revived in our Church.
This is one of the things which make persons like Mr.
Gladstone, however competent in . most respects, yet on
the whole incompetent judges of the real working of our
English System. They do not, they cannot, unless they
were tried as we are, form an adequate notion, how ab
solutely we are in our parishes like people whose lantern
has blown out, and who are feeling their way, and con
tinually stepping in puddles and splotches of mud, which
they think are dry stones. Then the tradition which goes
by the name of Justification by Faith, and which in reality
means, that one who has sinned, and is sorry for it, is as
if he had not sinned, blights and benumbs one in every
limb, in trying to make people aware of their real state.
These are the sort of things, and not the want of handsome

Religious Difficulties. 303
Churches, and respect for Church Authority, and such like
comparatively external points, which make me at times feel
so disheartened about our System altogether, and cause
a suspicion against one's will, that the life is gone, or going
out of it. And this is why I so deprecate the word and
the idea of Protestantism, because it seems inseparable to
me from 'Every. man his own absolver,' that is in other
words the same as Peace where there is no Peace, and
mere shadows of Repentance. And this objection is over
and above the great doctrinal grounds, which, I see, are
pretty well stated by some one in the 'English Church
man' of this week. But enough of this which I inflict on
you, because I think I made some such promise, and which
I know is too vague and common-place to be worth writing
down, only I seemed to feel it at the moment."
On the 31st of December in this year he wrote to
me a New Year's Eve letter, much of it on the same
subject, but I do not like to omit other parts so full
of affection, and so characteristic of him : —
" My very dear Coleridge,
" I must write you a Une on this New Year's Eve, though
you wUl not get it to-morrow; but you will have our best
wishes, one and aU of you, just the same. Among many
blessings most undeserved, and enough to make one sink
in amazement, if one's heart was not so much harder than
it ought to be, which come crowding on one's memory at
such a time, I seem this year particularly to feel, that surely
nobody ever had so many kind affectionate letters as I have
this year received, and especially from Montague Place and
Ottery; and one's neglect of them, I fear, is a faint sample

304 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
of how one stands for thankfulness in a Higher Quarter.
Well, as poor old Latimer used to say, God mend all.
Now I must touch on one or two things in your late let
ters. First, on that which seems to be nearly heaviest on
your heart, as it has long been on mine, the danger we are
in of losing dear  from our branch of the Church. I
wish I could say that my sense of it at all abates ; but my
comforts (some of them) are these; with regard to him,
really whatever happens, I believe him so pure-minded and
self-denying, and so on the watch against intellectual pride,
and other such temptations, that I shall think he probably
does right for himself whatever he does. Yet with regard
to the Church of England, I cannot but think, that if it
were the duty of ordinary persons to leave her, the marks
of reality would be more decidedly wanting, so that persons
like some whom we know would not be left in undoubting
adherence to her. Intellectually I fear I should be myself
in a state of doubt, were I to give my mind to that con
troversy, but such doubt as, according to the principles of
Butler, would make it my duty to stay where I am. This
being so, however, I suppose it is one's duty to long for
and aim at a kind of neutrality in one's judgment and de
meanour towards Rome ; and this I imagine to be really
consistent with the English system, and by all accounts in
tended by Q. Elizabeth's Government for the first thirteen
years. Then I seem to myself to see Scripture authority
for this, both in the O. T. in respect of the relations be
tween the Ten Tribes and the Two, and in the N. T. in
Our Lord's often-quoted aphorism, ' Forbid him not, for he
that is not against us is for us.' You know it is often ap
plied to Dissenters, but surely it applies a fortiori tb other
branches of the Church. Now how this view would act is
a great question. I fear it is unreal, but if -real, it seems to

Religious Difficulties. 305
me most consoling, and as if it would help one to see one's
way both in Ward's matter, and a good many more."
Keble and Mrs. Keble visited us in Montague
Place in June, and at Heath's Court in September,
1845 ; we had of course some talk, and some dif
ferences on religious questions, but on neither oc
casion could I perceive anything which indicated
any danger of his secession from the English Church.
The first visit was at the time when the controversy
was going on between us as to the Poem which
Dyson and I desired to keep out of the Lyra ; and
of course much of our talk was respecting the honour
due to the Blessed Virgin, which it seemed to me he
was desirous of raising as much too high as many
among us were of reducing it too low. I remember
I was fresh from a talk with my dear relative Sara
Coleridge, who would not admit there was any evi
dence to warrant our holding her to be even a saint,
that is, no clear evidence that she was even remark
ably holy in her life. In this I thought her, I may
say, outrageously wrong ; but Keble, who was as
clear as I could desire from thinking her an object
of worship, still would have been glad to go farther
than our Church has deemed safe in the honour to
be paid to her. With him the Primitive Church
gave the rule, and he allowed great weight to clear
ancient tradition in ascertaining what she held. I
have before me my notes made at the time of our
X

306 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
talks on both occasions, and I see how I was struck
with the kindness with which he received even re
buke when he had seemed to me to speak with too
much severity, as well as with his sweet humility,
and his deeply reverential manner, lowering the tone
of his voice, when he spoke on these religious ques
tions. On both occasions he parted from me leaving
me in full confidence as to his loyal adherence to
our Church.
This last visit was paid to us when they were re
turning from a tour which they, together with a party
from the Bisley Parsonage, had been making in Corn
wall, and although some of them had been unwell at
Bude, yet on the whole it seemed to have been a re
storative to all of them. Mrs. Keble especially had
nearly reached Hursley in better health apparently,
and with more than her usual strength. But imme
diately after, Mr. T. Keble at Bisley, and she at
Hursley, were attacked with very severe and alarm
ing illness ; the danger at Hursley seemed so great
and imminent that a physician was summoned from
London twice, and he (it was the late Dr. Southey)
kindly volunteered a third visit, on pretence, as Keble
said, of paying a visit at the Park. It will be seen
why I mention this illness, its bearing namely on
my present topic. It was just as the agony of this
trial was passing away, that the news reached him
from Oxford of that having actually been done by
his most dear friend, which had so long been iffl-

Religious Difficulties. 307
pending. He speaks thus of both trials in writing
to me and to Dyson. Thus he expresses himself
on September 27, 1845 : —
" My dear Coleridge,
" Since I wrote we have had some fearful ups and downs.
She was nearer sinking on Saturday than ever I knew her.
So much so that she took regular leave of us, and such
things as she said and looked, my dear friend ; you must
really pray that they may not be thrown away upon me.
You see the feeble frame exhausted by intense pain seemed
unable to resume its functions, and we feared she would
sink of mere exhaustion ; in our distress we telegraphed
Dr. Southey a second time from London, and by the
time he came she was beginning a little to revive; she
had received the H. C, and sent directions and messages
to different friends, but it pleased God that she should, for
the time at least, be brought back from the very gates of
Paradise. During the night, and through Sunday, and the
first part of yesterday, she was reviving; but just after Dr. S.
went away yesterday, about noon, she seemed sinking away
again, and the alarm returned 
" The friendliness of the Heathcotes is unspeakable, and
all the people about are very kind.
" It is remarkable that at Bisley they are quite as anxious
as we are, Tom having been very seriously iU ever since he
went away, but he too has now I trust only debUity to con
tend with, of that however far too much. On the whole it
is a sore season with us, and you and other dear friends
must help us."
Another letter followed of much the same doubt
ful character, and then on October 16, he wrote

308 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
communicating more confirmed advances towards re
covery as to both the sick ones, and he continued
thus : —
"These are great mercies, indeed, and most mercifully
are they given, as if on purpose to keep one's heart from
quite breaking at the bad news from Oxford. I thought I
was quite prepared for it, but it came on me like a thunder
bolt at last ; I had not expected it so soon, and I clung to
the respite of a few weeks or months. And yet, though I
talk in this tragical way, I go on eating, drinking, and sleep
ing, just as if nothing had happened, or was happening. It
is my reason that tells me how low I ought to live, my
whole self keeps as hard and as cold as ever. It has been
a sort of relief to write to  , and tell him how un
changed I hope to be both toward him and the Church
of England ; but sometimes I feel as if I could do nothmg
but sit astonied for the rest of my life."
To Dyson he wrote on the 12th of October:—
" But what shall I say to the Oxford news, so long ex
pected, yet it came Hke a thunderbolt at last. One can
but be still and pray ; I scarce know anything else that
can be done. I have written to him to express as well as
I could two feelings, one, continued love and affection to
wards him, the other, that every day things are happening,
especially in our two sick rooms, which make it more and
more impossible for me to do as he has done; it would
seem like impiety to reject such warnings as have been
sent to me in that manner ; I mean things which dear C.
said at a moment when she thought herself dying. I haw
some fear whether  himself will not be unsettled again

Religious Difficulties. 309
before long. He wrote now to  to announce his pro
fession, and the tone of the note seemed to me a Httle ex
cited. God bless him wherever, and with whomsoever
he is. Ever your affte, J. K."
There remain but a few general words to be said
to complete this part of my subject. Keble's course
was henceforth clearly laid down in his own mind
for his own guidance ; and, as far as regarded him
self, he would have abstained from the controversy
entirely. When Dr. Newman's " Essay on the Deve
lopment of the Christian Doctrine" was sent to him,
I presume from the author, he declined to read it ;
and, having done so, when Dr. Moberly sent him
his " Sermons on the Sayings of the Forty Days"
with a Preface containing Strictures on that Book,
he equally declined to read that. But what he would
not do for himself, he could not refuse to do for
others. There were some, who, either in their own
perplexity applied to him for counsel, or who chal
lenged him, having themselves taken, or resolved
to take the step of secession, on his own resolution.
He might perhaps have declined to answer, but it
was not in his nature to do so, and in order to do
this properly, he read the book; and with the same
result. Some of these papers are before me, and
testify to the care and candour with which he con
sidered the questions he had to answer.
Some there are undoubtedly, I believe not many,
who have carefully and honestly sounded all the

3 10 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
depths and the shallows of this great controversy,
have ascertained the bearing and the importance of
the rocks bare or hidden on either side, and have
come out with their minds in a clear undoubting
conviction as to the haven in which alone the truth,
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, is to be
found ; whichever be the port in which they are an
chored, they are without a scruple, and feel con
scientiously that they may venture to act as pilots
fo others. Some, again, there are, many more I
trust in number, and I cannot but think more
happy, and quite as safe, who have never enquired
at all, because they have thought the controversy
either unnecessary, or beyond their reach ; who have
.been content to accept the creed in which they were
brought up, and their parents before them; and
striven only to walk humbly, and truly, according
to its teaching. Some, again, there are, and cer
tainly I knew some remarkable instances at the
time to which I refer, persons of timorous, scru
pulous, even captious natures, easily offended, and
impatient of a doubt. It cannot be denied, that
for such persons many stumbling-blocks were raised
at this -time, and to be free from the difficulties
which then were pressing on them too often seemed
to be the only object of such persons. They re
versed Hamlet's rule, — rather than bear the ills they
knew, they would fly to others that they knew not
of. My quarrel with some of these was, that being

Religious Difficulties. 311
hopelessly, often avowedly, incompetent as guides,
they yet could not refrain from troubling those who
wefe at peace in their own course.
Keble belonged to no one of these classes ; he
thought the controversy of great importance ; he
was in a general way sufficiently instructed in it,
perhaps enough so to warrant him in believing,
that even after more enquiry, he should be unable
intellectually to find on either side the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Then he
thought, and the thought was congenial to his hum
ble, tender nature, that the true question for himself
was, Shall I be safe where I am ? this allowed him
to admit all moral arguments into the enquiry. Was
he to affirm that so many great and good men,
whose writings had been his study, whose charac
ters the objects of his love and admiration through
life ; or that his father, his mother, his sisters, all as
he believed saints in heaven ; had lived and died out
ofthe Church of Christ ? There may be some who may
smile, not one I hope who will sneer, at what he
writes of those which he believed to be the parting
looks and words of his wife, when her pure spirit
seemed to him to be as it were in sight of Paradise.
These' may have no place in a strictly theological
argument ; yet I shall not shrink from saying that
in my opinion, considering what was the object he
proposed to himself, he acted rightly, even in a judi
cial sense, in giving great weight to such an incident.

312 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
They were in effect the same as the dying words
of her who had been for years his true and fond
partner and helpmate, his counsellor in all his pas
toral labours and troubles, who knew better than
any one the worth of his work in the sphere in
which God had placed him, and who at that try
ing, perhaps enlightening, moment was testifying' in
a very conclusive manner, that to her, at least,
there was comfort and a blessed hope in the creed
to which she besought him to cling. These are
circumstances, which as motives to conduct may
properly have their weight, which yet do not come
into the category of strict proof; and I for one
should not estimate as of no value the conviction
which fastened on the mind, I admit in some mea
sure through the feelings, and it may be the experi
ences, of such a man as John Keble.
In the course of these later pages Keble has
spoken of Confession, against which the general
opinion, perhaps even more the general feeling, is
so strong, that I can scarcely avoid saying a few
words to prevent a misimpression as to himself. It
must be remembered that he was not so much
propounding a system, as stating his owii expe
rience in his own parish. The parish was a country
one, not over-sized, and the circumstances, at least
as favourable to the effectual discharge of pastoral
duty as ordinarily occur to any incumbent. He
was, indeed, painfully sensitive to the existence of

Religious Difficulties. 3 1 3
sinfulness, but he was not a severe man, nor of re
pulsive manners ; on the contrary, his singular hu
mility and tenderness, with his great simplicity of
address, made him as well fitted as most men to
attract the confidence of the closest natures, and to
dispel the fears of the most timorous. "Yet," he
says, "after all my care I am, in fact, in darkness
as to the moral and religious condition of my peo
ple, and I am so for want of being able to use the
arm of Confession." No thoughtful opponent will
meet this merely with scorn or indignation ; on
the contrary, unless Keble exaggerates the incon
venience he complains of, a modest man would be
led to doubt whether he himself was living in so
much light as to his own parish, as he had before
perhaps imagined ; and he might not . improbably
join, at least, in Keble's regret, however great the
countervailing evils of introducing Confession gene
rally might be admitted to be. He might not in
the end agree with him on the whole, but he would
still have somewhat of a fellow-feeling for him in his
avowed difficulty.
I own I thought Keble did unintentionally exag
gerate his difficulties. I told him so, and that I sup
posed a clergyman, whose cure was of the manage
able size of Hursley, need not and would not be so
ignorant of the spiritual condition of his people, as
he professed himself to be, if he brought to his task

314 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
the requisite intelligence, industry, kindness and de
votion ; and that if he did not, it was clear he ought
not to be trusted with the delicate and difficult
duty of taking confessions. I trusted he would gra
dually find the light dawn on him. In a subse
quent letter, written in 1847, he spoke more cheer
fully :—
" The Building," says he, speaking of the church, "goes
on and gives satisfaction ; and what is a greater comfort, I
think the Parish is altogether in a more hopeful state. We
have just had a Confirmation, and the young people seemed
more in earnest ; and Peter Young is more and more ap
preciated." He speaks here of his excellent Curate, and, as
might be expected from him, seems inclined to at
tribute more of the improvement he is thankful for
to him than to himself.
I rather think that feeling the introduction of
Confession as a general, or compulsory rule, to be
hopeless, he did not then enter into the considera
tion of the evils, which even under the wisest ad
ministration of it, seem almost inseparable from it,
or of the abuse to which it is so singularly liable.
Perhaps, too, he did not heed this practical objec
tion, that it would be impossible to make every
incumbent, as such, confessor of his parishioners;
and that wherever a stranger took that office, as all
he knew would be under the seal of secrecy, the

Religious Difficulties. 315
incumbent would remain in the same ignorance in
the discharge of his pastoral duty as before. If
these matters had been fully considered, he would
perhaps have admitted that the question was one
of so great difficulty, that it might be wise to ac
cept the present rule, which allows Confession as
a voluntary act, and does not make it a part of the
ordinary discipline of the Church. On this he him
self acted habitually ; he found it in his own case
a comfort and guide, and resorted to it ; and when
he was desired, he did not refuse to use it as such
to others.
I will now subjoin the poem which has led me
into so long a digression. I might have omitted it,
because I have good reason for expecting that it
will be included in the promised publication of his
poems, but it is so important, rightly considered,
to a full acquaintance with his opinions, that I
think it better to give it a place here also. In
August, 1844, the Keble family had made what
Keble calls "a rather ambitious ramble," reaching
as far north as Fort William, and among other ex
cursions, says he, "young Tom and I climbed Ben
Nevis, much to the aching of my old muscles, but
to the great satisfaction of my mind." It was in
this tour the incident occurred, which is mentioned
in the commencement of the poem. A lady, writing
+ upon good authority, has informed me that in the

3 1 6 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
course of it he was the guest of Mr. Stuart in the
Highlands. Dugald, the host's son, came suddenly
into the room where he was, and looking all about
him, sorrowfully exclaimed, " My mother is not here."
He was much touched by the incident, and wrote on
the occasion that which follows : which first bore the
title, "The Annunciation," S.John xix. 27.

Mother out of Sight.

" Saw ye the bright-eyed stately child,
With sunny locks so soft and wild,
How in a moment round the room
His keen eye glanced, then into gloom
Retired, as they who suffer wrong,
Where most assured they look and long;
Heard ye the quick appeal, half in dim fear
In anger half, ' My mother is not here.'

" Perchance some burthened heart was nigh,
To echo back that yearning cry
In deeper chords, than may be known
To the dull outward ear alone.
What if our English air be stirr'd
With sighs from saintly bosoms heard,
Or penitents to leaning angels dear, —
' Our own, our only Mother is not here.'

Mother out of Sight. 317

3-
" The murmurings of that boyish heart,
They hush with many a fostering art :
' Soon o'er the islands of the West,
The weary sun shall sink to rest ;
The rose tints fade, that gradual now
Are climbing Ben-y-Vear's green brow ;
Soon o'er tlie Loch tlie twiHght stars Will peer,
Then shalt thou feel thy soul's desire is here.'

4-
" Lightly they soothe the fair fond boy j
Nor is there not a hope and joy
For spirits that half-orphan'd roam,
Forlorn in their far island home ;
Oft as in penance "lowly bow'd,
Prayer Hke a gentle evening cloud
Enfolds them, through the mists they seem to trace
By shadowy gleams a Royal Mother's face.

5-
" Tlie Holy Church is at their side,
Not in her robes a glorious bride ;
As Sister named of Mercy mild,
At midnight by a fever'd child,
Might watch, and to the dim eye seem
A white-robed angel in a dream ;
Such may the presence of the Spouse appear,
To tender trembling hearts, so faint, so dear.

3 1 8 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

6.
" The Babe for that sweet Vision's sake,
Courts longer trance, afraid to wake ;
And we for love would fain lie still,
Though in dim faith, if so He will.
And wills He not ? are not His signs
Around us oft as day declines ?
Fails He to bless or home or choral throng,
Where true hearts breathe His Mother's evensong?

7-
" Mother of God, O not in vain,
We leam'd of old thy lowly strain ;
Fain in thy shadow would we rest,
And kneel with thee, and call thee blest.
With thee would magnify the Lord,
And if thou art not here adored,
Yet seek we day by day the love and fear
Which brings thee with all saints near and more near.

" What glory thou above hast won,
By special grace of thy dear Son,
We see not yet, nor dare espy
Thy crowned form with open eye.
Rather beside the manger meek,
Thee bending with veiled brow we seek j
Or where the angel in the Thrice Great Name
Hailed thee, and Jesus to thy bosom came.

Mother out of Sight. 319

9-
" Yearly since then with bitterer cry
Man hath assail'd the throne on high,
And Sin and Hate more fiercely striven
To mar the league 'twixt Earth and Heaven.
But the dread tie that pardoning hour,
Made fast in Mary's awful bower,
Hath mightier prov'd to bind than we to break ;
None may that work undo, that Flesh unmake.

10.
" Thenceforth, whom thousand worlds adore,
He calls thee Mother evermore ;
Angel nor Saint His face may see
Apart from what He took of thee ;
How may we choose but name thy Name,
Echoing below their high acclaim
In Holy Creeds ? since earthly song and prayer
Must keep faint time to the dread Anthems there.

n.
" How but in love on thine own days,
Thou bHssful One, upon thee gaze ?
Nay every day, each suppliant hour,
Whene'er we kneel, in aisle or bower,
Thy glories we may greet unblam'd,
Nor shun the lay by Seraphs framed.
Hail Mary full of grace ! O welcome sweet,
Which daUy in all lands aU Saints repeat ;

320 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

12.
" Fair greeting with our Matin vows,
Paid duly to th' Enthroned Spouse,
His Church and Bride, here and on high,
Figured in her deep purity.
Who bom of Eve, high Mercy won,
To bear and nurse the Eternal Son.
O awful Station to no Seraph given,
On this side touching Sin, on th' other Heaven.

13-
" Therefore, as kneeling day by day,
We to Our Father duteous pray ;
So unforbidden we may speak,
An Ave to Christ's Mother meek.
(As children with ' good-morrow' come,
To Elders in some happy home,)
Inviting so the Saintly Host above,
With our unworthiness to pray in love.

14.
" To pray with us, and gently bear,
Our falterings in the pure bright air ;
But strive we pure and bright to be
In spirit, — else how vain of thee,
Our earnest dreamings, awful Bride !
Feel we the sword that pierc'd Thy side ;
Thy spotless lily flower, so clear of hue,
Shrinks from the breath impure, the tongue untrue."

CHAPTER XIV.
"LYRA INNOCENTIUM." — CHARLES MARRIOTT'S
COLLEGE. — GLADSTONE CONTESTS.
I COMMENCED what I shall have to say re
specting the Lyra Innocentium in the preceding
chapter, but the part which Dyson and I myself
took as to two or three of the poems intended to
form part of it, led me to enter at once into an
account of the difficulties which passed through Ke
ble's mind on the great religious question of that
day, and to their final settlement. It seemed to
me better to dispose of these at once, and now re
turn to the volume itself, which Keble begged our
criticisms upon, and which we passed to the pub
lisher. The volume appeared in April, 1846. The
title, which has since been frequently used with dif
ferent additions, was not common then, and probably
was suggested by the Lyra Apostolica, to which he
had contributed many poems. I may as well state
here, though out of place, the little fact, that the
title of his great work was taken from the fourth
Sermon in John Miller's " Christian Guide ;" he asked
his permission for this, which was of course readily
accorded. Certainly it was an excellent title for
such a work. Y

322 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
On the present occasion he did publish his dedi
cation at once, bearing date February in that year.
Some people think the Lyra has a dry and hard
character ; the dedication, at least, is free from this
defect; to me it was perhaps the more touching
because I knew how faithful a picture it presented,
at once painful and soothing, of the troubles of mind
which he had gone through, and of the humble and
devotional spirit which was vouchsafed to him to
shed its peace on him, at least on this point for
the remainder of his life.
Keble's fame, the just claim which he has to the
admiration and gratitude of his countrymen, indeed
of the inhabitants of all lands where English is
spoken, must rest upon his sacred poetry. He wrote,
indeed, many things in prose, of great value, and
which alone might have earned him reputation, yet
it would have been such only as would have classed
him among many other excellent writers. But "The
Christian Year" is generally admitted, and I think
justly, to have placed him alone, far above all our
other sacred poets ; to have made him in truth the
sacred poet of the nation.
I do not expect a general agreement in opinion
with me, when I say that the Lyra Innocentium, if
not equal to " The Christian Year," as a whole, is
at least more than equal in some parts, and on the
whole worthy of its author. Though very successful
in comparison with the generality of such works, it

Lyra Innocentium. 323

has not had a circulation at all proportionate to
that of " The Christian Year ;" it has not become
a manual in general use, and has not consequently
been studied, and is not known in the same degree.
I may therefore be excused a few words upon it.
A dear young friend of mine, a happy young
mother, writing to me from New Zealand, calls it
a mother's book, and most justly ; it has suffered,
I think, by being considered a book for children,
properly it is one about children. The title-page
says it is "on children, their ways and privileges."
It begins with their baptism, (and the Author's be
lief as to that sacrament gives a specific character
to the whole,) it follows them through their cradle
life, and infancy, their childhood sports, troubles,
encouragements, and warnings; it unfolds the les
sons which nature, and the lessons which grace
teaches them ; it dwells on their sicknesses, their
deaths. No one, perhaps, but a parent, can fully
enter into all parts of it, and yet he who wrote it
did not marry young, and was never a father. It
is matter of wonder how one so circumstanced could
ever have known enough of children from infancy
to have written such a volume, yet I am persuaded
that the more one has seen of them, the more will
the life-like truth of the painting strike one. It will
naturally be asked where and how did he acquire his
knowledge. First, and above alL I think from his in
tense love for children, and from his feeling about them,

324 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
in which the heartiest tenderness was mingled with
something amounting almost to reverence. A newly-
baptized child was to him an emblem of the most
spotless purity of which human nature here below
is capable. I never shall forget being present once
as godfather, when he baptized a child of Sir Wil
liam Heathcote's. The child, after he had admi
nistered the sacrament, lay in his arms so still and
sweet, one might believe it conscious of the blessing
it had received. Keble held it in his arms some
little time, looking on it with an inexpressible look
of delight and love, a tear was in his eye, and he
seemed loth to part with it again to its godmother.
In 1858 that dear child died, and I will not keep
back the letter which he wrote to Miss Baker, his
governess, who was in deep distress for the loss of
him ; it testifies so strikingly and touchingly to the
love and feeling I have been speaking of : —
" HURS.LEY,
14 June, 1858.
" My dear  ,
" I must write a line, tho' I know what poor help one
can give in such mournful trials' as this ; for I have been
thinking of you almost as much as of his parents ever since
I heard of it ; and if it seems so sad to me to think of not
seeing him any more with his dear quiet little ways going
in and out with you (he alludes here, I believe, to the daily
morning service) ; how much severer must it be to your
affectionate heart. But He who pours the love into the

Lyra Innocentium. 325
heart, has ways of His own to make the sorrow that comes
with it tolerable. I make no question, dear Friend, but
that you feel this aheady very much. From what Sir
William told me in Saturday's note, there was a treasure
of comfortable and happy thoughts and memories which
dear little Godfrey was permitted to leave to you all, when
he was just going, — a treasure for you to make much of as
long as you live. Whatever happens you will always be
able to say in humble thankfulness, ' By God's mercy I have
been permitted to help in rearing one plant at least, which is
now blooming for ever in Paradise, and I am sure (if there
is remembrance, and who can doubt it) of being remembered
by one at least who is there.' My dear  , encourage
these soothing thoughts, if they come to you ; for surely
they are the truest thoughts ; but if you cannot quite enter
into the comfort of them as yet, be not too much disheart
ened, bear the dreariness bravely for His sake, and for the
dear child's sake, who is now in such sweet rest. Do not
trouble to write, but " Believe me always,
" Your loving friend,
" J. K."

When in the volume he speaks to the good child
of its blessings, or to the froward one in blame,
he constantly recurs to its baptism to think upon, to
be grateful for, and to be warned by. Those who
differ with him in his doctrine may yet admire the
beautiful illustration of it in the poem entitled,
"Guardian Angels," in which he sees in a dream
infants brought by their angels to the fount : —

326 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
" There one moment lay immersed,
Each bright form, and ere it rose,
Rose regenerate, light would burst
From where golden morning glows,
With a sudden, silent thrill,
Over that mysterious rill ;
Ne'er so bright, so gentle, sweep
Lightnings o'er the summer deep.
" In a moment came that ray,
Came, but went not ; every sprite
Through its veil of mortal clay,
Now is drench'd in quickening light ;
Light, wherewith the seraphs burn,
Light, that to itself would turn,
Whatsoe'er of earth and shame
Mars e'en now the new-born frame."
Holy Baptism, Poem 3.
Then there were his brother's nursery, the chil
dren at the park, the large fine family of his neigh
bour, Dr. Moberly, his own school, where he was
a very frequent teacher, his cottage visits, the num
berless opportunities which presented themselves to
him in his rambles from hamlet to hamlet, and all
these presented to that receptive spirit, and faithful
memory, inseparable from the true poetic nature.
These may well be thought sometimes to have
created, sometimes authenticated, sources of infor
mation, and subjects for meditation, which would es
cape ordinary perceptions. From internal evidence,

Lyra Innocentium. 327
where direct is wanting, and there is direct evidence
in very numerous instances, I believe that had we
the means of tracing, we should find at least a foun
dation in fact for every one of the poems, which pro
fesses to narrate, or comment on an incident.
I have no doubt he wrote to me the simple truth,
when he spoke of the comfort he had received in
his anxieties from the composition of these poems ;
the thoughts which they suggested took him out of
himself, away from his doubts and cares ; he was en
gaged in what was most delightful to him when play
ing with children, teaching them, or warning others
by what they taught himself. And he was seldom
more picturesque in his language than when he had
one of these subjects in hand ; what pictures does
he give us for example in this stanza of " Children's
Thankfulness :" —
" Why so stately, maiden fair,
Rising in thy nurse's arms,
With that condescending air,
Gathering up thy queenly charms ;
Like some gorgeous Indian bird,
Which, when at eve the balmy copse is stirr'd,
Turns the glowing neck to chide
Th' irreverent foot-fall, then makes haste to hide
Again its lustre deep,
Under tlie purple wing, best home of downy sleep."
It seems to me that not a word could be altered
in this, except, if indeed it be not too minute cri-

328 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
ticism to remark, that the bird's making haste to
hide rather breaks the repose of the remainder of
the picture, and is in itself perhaps not quite true
to nature. Then, after following the subject through
some stanzas, he lifts it up, which he seldom failed
to do in his application, in the last stanza : —
" Save our blessings, Master, save
From the blight of thankless eye ;
Teach us for all joys to crave
Benediction pure and high »
Own them given, endure them gone,
Shrink from their hardening touch, yet prize them won.
Prize them as rich odours, meet
For love to lavish on His sacred feet.
Prize them as sparkles bright,
Of heavenly dew from yon o'erflowing well of light."
Sometimes the poems are exquisitely pathetic;
there are few to be met with anywhere more so
than the two entitled, "Bereavement" and "Fire,"
both founded on facts. Mr. Eddis has found in the
former subjects for two pictures, of which the en
gravings are well known. The Poet meets two sis
ters in the joyous flower-time of April, the elder
leading the younger : —
" One a bright bud, and one might seem
A sister flower half-blown,
Full joyous on their loving dream
The sky of April shone."

Lyra Innocentium. 329
He meets them again on a chill and damp Sun
day evening in autumn, but the elder is following
the younger to her grave ; the motto to the poem
is, "The Lord gave Job twice as much as he had
before," and so he cheers the mourner with his
favourite idea of communion with the departed
spirit : — " What if henceforth by heaven's decree,
She leave thee not alone,
But in her turn prove guide to thee,
In ways to angels known.
" O yield thee to her whisperings sweet;
Away with thoughts of gloom !
In love the loving spirits greet,
Who wait to bless her tomb.
" In loving hope with her unseen,
Walk as in hallowed air ;
When foes are strong, and trials keen,
Think, 'what if she be there.' "
The most delicate and ideal artist need not take
it amiss to be told that this last was hardly a sub
ject for his art.
But I forget, while I indulge myself, that I am
speaking of a volume which has been in many
hands for more than twenty years, and I must not
pursue this farther ; at the same time I should add
that in some of the poems Keble appears to me to

330 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
have struck a higher note than he ever reached in
" The Christian Year." I instance the " Lifting up to
the Cross," "Church Bells," "Easter Day," "The
Waterfall," and "The Starry Heavens." Perhaps in
some measure from Church associations he was spe
cially fond of the music of church bells in chiming.
After-a visit to us in October, 1844, he writes: —
" I wish I had a better ear, and truer memory for sounds,
that I might recall the church bells of St. Mary Ottery, the
one deep tenor at 7 J, and then the chimes at \ to 8."
Eight o'clock was the hour of our daily service in
the morning.
In the course of our correspondence on the sub
ject of the poems which Dyson and I had recom
mended him to withhold for the present, I had
collected that he was rather in want of others to
supply their place, and I first suggested to him
a passage from St. Augustine's Confessions : " Post
et ridere caepi, dormiens primo, deinde vigilans,"
and as he did not seem disposed to write on it, I
ventured to do so myself, and he very kindly gave
the stanzas a place among the Cradle Songs ; alter
ing, however, my first stanza, in which he thought
I had misunderstood my text, and I dare say I
had obscurely expressed myself so as to warrant
him. "St. Augustine," says he, "seems to me to speak not of
a smile in the first sleep, but of the first smile being in

Lyra Innocentium. 331
sleep, which is a different, and a deeper, and as those who
have experience tell me, a truer idea."
I afterwards suggested to him another subject
from the Confessions ; the passage is to be found in
the 8th Book, ii. 6 and 7, in which an analogy is
drawn between the lost sheep, the piece of silver,
the prodigal son, and, among other things, the dear
one of the house recovered from sickness. "It
strikes me," I said, "that a child after sickness, in
the garden, pale and feeble, yet the object of pecu
liar joy and attentions from brothers, sisters, mo
ther, &c, though less bright and beautiful than any
of the circle, with the same application, might suit
your purpose well." This hint pleased him, and he
wrote the beautiful poem of " Languor" upon it. I
mention my own suggestion, for it may be worth
seeing out of how scanty and rude materials he con
structed so beautiful and so entirely original a poem.
And now I must leave a subject on which I have
indulged my own feelings too long ; but I am really
desirous of obtaining for the Lyra the position which
I think it deserves. Let me add my advice to young
persons to read it at all events as I have recom
mended " The Christian Year" to be read. Although
in the beginning Keble did not write it with refer
ence to the course of our Prayer-book, yet even in
the first edition he appropriated certain poems to
certain days, and he subsequently carried that idea
out through them all. It will be found, I believe,

332 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
that we shall appreciate them more justly, and enjoy
them more, and learn more from them, if we follow
the author's guidance as our rule for reading them.
I forget how Keble had learned that I thought of
preparing a review of the Lyra, and offering it to
the "Quarterly." He wrote to me on this so cha
racteristic a note, that it is worth inserting here : —
"As to the Review, I wish you to be entirely guided
by your feelings while you are doing it. I mean if you get
into a glow as you are about it, and are conscious that you
are doing it well, go on with it, and don't spare me ; I
shall get a deal more credit by discriminating praise, than
by a mere out-pouring of friendship. I must make one
bargain with you ; pray don't say a word about me except
as a writer. I feel so painfully more and more the deceit
fulness of the C. Y. especially, that I must beg this of you ;
though I dare say your own discretion would tell you the
same in a general way, yet a word might escape you here
and there, were you not under special caution."
There are some few still living, and among them
one very eminent man, who may remember the for
mation of something like a brotherhood, though
adopting no such name, to assist the members in
the regular discharge of their private religious duties,
I mention it now, because it was in the latter part
of this year, 1845, that Keble was applied to to
draw up, or correct, I forget which, a little code of
rules for its guidance. I mention the incident as
an instance of the manner in which his help was

Charles Marriott's College. 333
sought and rendered on many occasions, quite be
yond his ordinary duties. He had lost his own copy,
and asked me for mine, which he soon returned with
this note : — "Dec. 1, 1845.
" Many thanks for the papers, which I have copied. I
don't wonder at your finding great difficulty in acting on
them, placed as you are. I, who have, so to say, every
advantage, do not, I fear, realize any one of them. Still
I think it is good to have them in one's desk, and in one's
mind, as tokens of what one wishes and hopes, and as
helps towards something better than the present."
This short notice may recall to the minds of some
few, times and thoughts long passed away from their
recollection ; the thoughts, I trust, will not have lost
their influence, but I hope they will remember not
merely the great simplicity and kindness with which
Keble dealt with us, but the profound reverence
which at that comparatively early period we all felt
for him.
It was about this time that Keble's attention was
drawn to a scheme of his friend Charles Marriott
for the establishment somewhere of what was com
monly called among the favourers of it a Poor
Man's College, the object being to train for Holy
Orders the sons of parents who were unable to meet
the expense of educating them at the Universities.
He was very anxious for the success of such a scheme,
and he considered attentively two preliminary ques-

334 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
tions, how to meet the expense, and where to place
the institution. As to the first, it so happened that
Mr. Hope's munificent intentions as to a Missionary
Training College were then announced, but not car
ried into effect, and Keble was anxious that the two
foundations should be consolidated. He pointed out
how economy as to both might so be effected, and
a greater breadth, and importance, and perhaps effi
ciency, thereby given to both. I cannot now say on
what grounds this advice, which seems so reason
able, was rejected. As to the second, he felt the
difficulties which might arise in placing it at Ox
ford, both as to its inception and its position after
establishment. He had too, as may well be sup
posed, not a very strong confidence in the spirit
with which the governing body might regard it ; still
he was decidedly for Oxford : —
" I stick," he wrote to me, " to my old mumpsimus, that
where you can get it, i8t most independent, and 2ni worked
by the best men, there it will answer best, and I am sure
Oxford, if you can get it there, (which is surely worth trying,)
has both these qualities."
This opinion prevailed, and the devoted founder
actually purchased a site, not I think very wisely,
at the top of Headington Hill, near to the spot
well known to Oxford men, where stands, or stood
at least, Joe Pullen's Tree. But in spite of his own
great liberality, and that of others, Marriott's scheme

St. Augustine's Missionary College. 335
failed for want of funds. And this I cannot now
much regret, for two reasons ; because it seems to
me to have been a mistake to limit it to students
for the Church only ;" but even more because that
failure left the ground open for a larger, and for
what promises, with God's blessing, to be a much
more liberal and useful institution, the Keble Col
lege now in progress. It was right to notice this
effort, however, because it enables me to put out of
doubt, that if any public tribute were to be made
to his memory, (of which, however, he would un
doubtedly have thought himself wholly unworthy,)
the institution I speak of is one which, it may be
presumed, would have been exactly according to
his wish.
Keble had taken a very lively interest in the
foundation of St. Augustine's Missionary College at
Canterbury, — a good work for which we are very
mainly indebted to the munificence of Beresford Hope.
The consecration of the Chapel took place on the
last day of June, 1848, and Keble was one of those
who attended it The gathering was a very nume
rous and remarkable one, exceeding considerably the
capability of the Chapel to receive it. It was thought
necessary to limit the admission to those who had
been invited to be present. This gave occasion to
a remarkable demonstration of the love and respect
entertained for Keble, of which I have been reminded
by Canon Venables. I extract from his letter the

336 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
following lively account, which I cannot mend, and
therefore insert it, premising that we had been de
sired to assemble in the Hall, a list of our names
had been prepared, and this was read out, name
by name : —
"Each person, as his name was called, came forward,
and proceeded to take his place in the chapel. You will
doubtless remember what a pleasant gathering that was;
how old friends, who had not met for years, were brought
together, and what a loud buzz of cheerful conversation
arose ; as name after name was read out people would look
up, especially if it was that of any one distinguished in the
ecclesiastical world, — but the conversation went on un
checked. In due course the name of 'the Rev. John
Keble' was called, and in a moment there was a deep
silence, a silence more impressive than the loudest burst
of applause. Every one instinctively drew back to allow
free space for Keble to walk down the hall ; though all,
especially those who, like myself, had never seen the
author of the 'Christian Year,' were eagerly bending
forward to catch sight of one to whom we owed so much.
In the midst of this hush, through the centre of the open
space, rather shyly and awkwardly I thought, as was not
altogether unnatural, Keble rapidly passed, almost dis
concerted, certainly surprised; and seemingly not well
pleased to find himself the chief object of attraction in an
assemblage which comprised so many of the noblest and
greatest among the sons and servants of the Church. The
contrast between his quiet unpretending form, and the
almost awful respect with which, with so spontaneous an
.impulse, he was received, made a deep impression on me."

Visit to St. Brelade's, Jersey. 337
Mrs. Keble's severe illness made a change of air
and scene expedient for her more early in this
year, 1846, than usual, in order to perfect her re
covery, and in the latter part of May they moved
to St. Brelade's in Jersey, and remained there un
til towards the end of June. He seems to have
thoroughly enjoyed this little place; I had several
letters from him while there, and he wrote of it
always with great delight. I had been obliged by
ill-health to give up my attendance in court for
a Term, and I was sent to Brighton by my friend,
Dr. Latham.
" I wish," he writes, '* you could be with us instead of
Brighton, and see this gem of a little bay, filled at high
water with the bluest possible sea, and at low water half
way with the finest clear sand. On the right a most grace
ful ridge of pinnacled rocks, seeming to reach half-across
it ; and on the bank between us and it a curious though
not very beautiful Church, the water in high tides washing
the Churchyard-wall; with just trees enough to make a
frame, both to right and left ; a rock or two, and a vessel
or two, in the middle; on the left a bold rocky point,
and part of the sweep of a scolloped bay. This for the
outside ; and on the inside, Mrs. Keble writing away and
professing, (after an early rising and steam voyage, a drive,
and two walks,) that she is better able to draw her breath
thanshe has been for a long time, so that by the blessing
of God I hope we have found a place which wiU really do
her good."
To be near the sea, or on it, was always restora-
z

338 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
tive to her ; in a few days after their arrival, they
sailed to St. Helier's to meet Dyson, who paid;them
a visit from Southampton. ; the sea was to hira for
many , years what it was to Mrs. Keble ; and the
meeting would make it, no doubt, more cheering
and beneficial to all three. . . . ': '
Again, he says :— ;
" This coast lias really a' store of beauties, "which it would!
take one a long while to the of; I tell you 'this for a secret,
for I should be very sorry tb get it much belauded among
tiie fashionable, people in. England.; it would be so soon
spoiled, if the pleasure-hunters got hold of it. How long
we shall stay I don't know, but I shall be glad to wait
till Charlotte has left off coughing; only" one does get
into such intolerable acquiescence with one's usual habits
of idleness." >:
They made a short excursion to France while
at St. Brelade's, and saw Coutance, and soon after
returned home. Parting from it so lovingly, one
would not have expected that they would never
revisit it ; but so I believe it was. On St. Matthew's
Day he writes to me iri thankful commemoration of
God's mercy in having spared so many of those
mpst dear to him in the course of the preceding
twelve months. The day before that festival in the
preceding year, 1845, he had returned home from
his tour in Cornwall and Devon, and his wife's long1
and dangerous illness had commenced ; his brother's
also — and he had besides been, in much anxiety

Restoration of Hursley Church. 339
about Dr. Pusey, Isaac Williams, and myself — all were-
now in apparently comfortable health; all are spe
cially and affectionately enumerated in a letter to
me. On Michaelmas Day his brother had a con
secration of an additional church in his parish, which
Keble was able to be present at ; and we had that
of " the little church" in our parish ; he had been
much interested in our work, and contributed to our
funds. We were commencing also the restoration
of our venerable Priory Church ; and pressed as he
was to provide for his own undertaking, he insisted
on throwing back, as he called it, a " ' score of pounds,
towards your far more beautiful work ;' but I fear
there is no chance of our being able to afford more,
consistently with our plan of devoting ' all profits of
trade' to the work here." It conduced to the cheer
fulness with which he ended this year, that there
were "symptoms now of his church work beginning."
Materials were being collected on the spot ; it was
found that much, if not all the main walls of the
old church, so far as the proportions agreed, would
only require to be cased, so well and solidly had they
been built ; and an alarm about the foundations had
turned out to be groundless.
Yet he opened the year 1847 in language ofthe
deepest humiliation — language of the kind which
I have given specimens of before, but of which I
cannot withhold another. My readers will, I feel as
sured, not misunderstand the unintentional exaggera-

340 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
tion of it ; and it must surely be useful for many
of us, going on in our easy ways, to see with what
deep humility such a man regarded his own inward
condition. It may serve to damp the self-applause
of some, and awaken the slumbrous state of con
science in which too many of us habitually live.
" Well can I understand from what I see in others, and
a great deal too well from myself, the heart-deep truth of
every word you say on the matter of those sermons of
Pusey's on 'Sin and Love:' they are two great depths;
too deep, by far, for our sounding. I suppose our safest
prayer would be, that we may be led gradually on to the
perception of where we are in respect both of one and the
other, and not permitted to dwell on either exclusively.
For myself, my inward history is a most shameful and
miserable one — really quite different from what you and
others imagine ; so that I am quite sure, if you knew it,
you would be startled at the thought of coming to such an
adviser ; so long and so late has the misery been ; and it
ought to be a bitter penance to me to be so consulted.
But I believe that I have sinned before now, in drawing
back on such occasions, and I hope never to do so again ;
use me, therefore, dear friend, such as I am, if I can be of
any use to you at any time ; but pray for me, bond, fide, that
I may be contrite, for that is what I really need."
Early in the summer of 1847, Keble collected and
published a volume of " Academical and Occasional
Sermons ;" although he contributed many sermons
to other collections, and printed now and then some
which he had preached for special purposes, this

Academical and Occasional Sermons. 34 r
I think, was the only volume which he ever pub
lished. Among other important and remarkable ser
mons, this volume contains that on Tradition, which
it seems to me ought to be in every clergyman's
library ; which, indeed, few laymen would not find
their account in reading. But Keble's special pur
pose in the publication was to quiet uneasy minds
in regard to their position in the English Church.
And for this purpose he prefixed a preface of some
length, prepared with much care.
He writes to me on March 4 : —
"I have been, and am trying, to draw up a kind of view
on the present position of English Churchmen, to answer,
if it may be, the purpose which Dodsworth talked about
that day at your house. Perhaps I may send it you when
it is in some sort ended. The form of it would be a pre
face to some sermons."
In the Holy Week following, he says : —
" What I could, I have written on the R. C. Controversy,
and the MS. is now in Moberly's hand for him to decide
whether it be worth printing; if he says yes, I think of
sending it to you and a few more in proof, to be criticized,
while the Sermons themselves, to which it professes to be
a preface, are printing."
On April 23, he writes : —
" Moberly has said imprimatur to my papers for a pre
face, but I have not yet been able to satisfy myself about
the Sermons which are to make up the volume. One after

342 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
another, on which I once plumed myself, seems such stuff
when I come to look over it."
Accordingly the proofs were sent to me, and I
Yentured to say on them what then occurred to, me;
it is worth seeing in what spirit he received sugges
tions. He . and Mrs. Keble had been with us in
London in June ; on the 30th he says : —
" Perhaps you will be able to send those papers with the
shoemaker's parcel ; I mean to add something to the effect
that I take on purpose lower ground than might perhaps be
taken. I want to shew that waiving all the special points
at issue -between the two Churches, a dutiful person ought
to stay where he is ; whichever of the two is right on those
points. I reserve the question of the Articles and Clerical
Communion, about which I still think I was substantially
right in my unpublished letter to you."
On October 25, when he had- received my com
ments, he writes : — . 
, " Now thank you at least 5 times for the 5 sheets which
you have looked over for me. I have used all your sug
gestions, I believe, but one, that of enlarging the part of
the argument, where it is maintained that the distinctive
Roman tenets are none of them recommended by the same
overwhelming proof as our common Christianity. It would
have delayed me too long to have verified and exemplified
this; and you know the whole tenourof the preface is
merely to suggest arguments, not tb carry them out. It
is all printed that you saw in MS., and a'little more; but
the eye gets over it so much more quickly in reading it in
type, that it seemed, to you less. Of course it might.be

Academical' arid Occasional Sermons. 343
greatly enlarged ; but I had not the time now, it being an
object on several accounts to get it out without delay ; and
if I had ever so much leisure, I think I should stUl wish the
job in the hands of somebody of more learning and dialectic
skUl. In such hands I reaUy think it might be made a good
deal of; at least, the more I think of it, the more substance
there appears to me in it — but of course it wUl attract in
tense scorn from opposite parties. I beheve I have quaH-
fied the 2 or 3 passages which you were most afraid of."
The volume, when published, had not perhaps all
the success which it deserved ; it passed, however, to
a second edition, and I am informed that it is now
being asked for a good deal Both these facts may
well be accounted for: the. Preface was addressed
to neither party in the controversy then raging ; and
it was natural that neither should find satisfaction
in it, the Romanizers on the one hand, or the un
doubting and vehement Protestants on the other.
The argument framed on the Butlerian model pur
posely took low ground, and this itself was of course
a cause of offence, as it has been with many men in
regard to the model itself. It was assumed that
Keble's own convictions rested on these and none
Other, and the. concessions made by supposition and
for the sake of argument were taken for real ad
missions. Now that the heat of controversy is some
what lulled (I wish it were more so), the argument
may be read and fairly judged on its own hypo
thesis. It seems to me a very valuable contribution

344 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
to our theology. Every composition is fairly liable to
criticism, both in regard to its design and to its exe
cution, but the latter must be judged with reference
to the former. Keble's special design was neither
to re-convert those who had already seceded, nor
to defend the English Church generally against the
Romanist controversialist. His object was to quiet
the minds of those, (and no one knew better than he
how many they were, nor how worthy of care and
comfort,) who in heart desired to be true and loyal
to the Church of their Fathers, but in whose minds
uneasiness had been excited, either by the example "
or the publications of seceders, or by scruples which
circumstances at the time had given occasion for,
and which they were unable to satisfy, for them
selves. This seems to me, at least, to have been
a definite, and a very sufficient object. Some may
wish ¦ that he had attempted more. Keble had a
just, and no more than a just opinion of the im
portance and difficulty of such a work: he did not
think himself equal to dealing with the whole ques
tion commensurately with these ; and he certainly
would have shrunk with something like indigna
tion from attempting so to deal with it in a preface
or a pamphlet.
I must leave the execution of his design to the
consideration of those who will now read the Preface
candidly as a piece of Butlerian argument. One
thing, I hope, we shall all be pleased with, his con-

The Gladstone Contests. 345

elusion in a strain not very usual for a controversial
pamphlet, but very characteristic of himself : —
" May one be permitted (though most unworthy) to offer
one concluding suggestion, which will surely be taken in
good part by all kind readers of whatever section of tlie
Church ? It is this ; that at one time or another in our daily
devotions, we should offer up Our Lord's Prayer, as a prayer
in special for Church union : if so be He may graciously
accept it, remembering His Own Eucharistical petition,
" That they may be One as we are."
This is followed by the Lord's Prayer, broken up
into its several petitions, with an application of each
to the special purpose.
His letters at this time remind me that in this
year, 1847, the Gladstone contests for the representa
tion of the University in Parliament commenced.
In these he took a very lively interest, perhaps this
was to be expected in the beginning ; his own prin
ciples found a more exact representative in Mr. Glad
stone than in his opponent; and he had a much
higher opinion of him in his private capacity. But
the interest continued unabated to Mr. Gladstone's
only and final defeat in 1865. Compared with his
successive opponents, Keble always thought there
was no ground for hesitation ; he was always in his
opinion the best and most creditable representative
of the University. Even when, as sometimes hap
pened, he might not have been prepared to follow
him in what he had said or done, he still thought

.34^ '. Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
that there being rio reason to doubt the honesty and.
singleness of his intentions, it was unjust and unwise
in a private man to withdraw his. support of a repre
sentative, because his judgment, probably more, in
formed, and guided by a better appreciation of dif-.
ficulties, differed from his own. All through the series.
of contests his support was given heartily, I may say
affectionately and actively; in the contest of 1852,-
he wrote to Sir Brook; W. Bridges, who was, I believe,'
Chairman of Dr. Marsham's London Committee, and
an old pupil' of his own at Oriel, a letter " On the Re
presentation- of the University of Oxford," which is'
probably now forgotten. Keble, however, does hot
use merely occasional arguments on an occasional
subject ; this letter shews the principles oh which;
he- thought it : right then to continue his ^support to
Mr. Gladstone, and on. which in' substafiGe he acted
to the end. His' support was, >t heed not say, very
influential on-many iriinds. -The issue of the contest
in "186$ he deeply lamented. . '|,;:;
: I have made an extract from a letter written
towards the close of 1846, iii which he speaks of hii
"church work, really •beginning;" this was steadily
pursued all through 1847, and until October, 1848,
when' the church was reconsecrated. >-'¦¦'- " ¦-'••'
Writing fo'-Cornish, he Bays': — "' -'•"-" - ¦ •'• . ;
'""; ,  :; , ' u "H. V.,' June 30, ity'!-
* , "As, for ourselves, we jog on comfortably enough, far
more so than one > of us deserves: and1 just nowthetfay*

Restoration of Hursley Churclu 347
are made very short by the pleasure of watching our new
church, how it graduaUy gets on, encasing the old one.
I don't know whether you would Hke it ; I do, as far as it
has gone, very much."
It was found, wherever the old and new buildings
coincided, that the old walls were so well built, that
they would need only to be cased in stone ; where-
ever it was necessary to build anew, from the differ
ence in size or design, the village masons, under
proper direction, laid in the foundations. About
Easter, 1847, he made his. contract with Messrs. Locke
and Nesham, "for ^"3,380, exclusive Of these founda
tions, the seats, and other fittings, most of the flooring
and windows." And he roughly estimated these at
.£1,200 more. Had he completed his design for the
windows, and been at the sole cost, he must have
provided a much larger sum than that for this last
item alone. For his mind turned with the fondness
of old associations to the numerous and costly win
dows of Fairford Church ; he did not indeed desire
strictly to copy them, the different sizes and cha
racters of the two churches forbidding that ; . but
he wished ^to fill all the windows at Hursley with
a connected series, according to the general design
of that at Fairford. His idea was to carry a kind
of sacred history; all round the church from the
FaU to the Day of Judgment.
His design was in due time, not exactly, but in
some sort, completed ; and only a comparatively

348 ' Memoir of the Rev! John Keble.
small portion of the expense fell on him. Mrs. Heath
cote presented one large quasi-transeptal window;
Sir William and Lady Heathcote the other; Lady
Lothian and Lady Bath, each contributed a window ;
two I think were provided out of an overflowing
offertory on the day of consecration ; and it having
occurred to some of his friends that this was a season
able opportunity, and a right mode of testifying their
love for him, and admiration of his character, a sub
scription was raised, and applied towards completing
what should remain. The management of this fund
financially devolved on me, and I regret that I long
ago destroyed or lost all the accounts and papers
relating to it ; but among my own letters returned
to me I have found one, which enables me to state
that although the subscribers were numerous, and
the sum raised large, it did not suffice for the whole
expense ; and that I applied, with his sanction, part
of the monies paid to me by his publisher from
time to time, to make up the deficiency. As the
windows' would require to be paid for one or two
at a time, and sometimes at considerable intervals,
I took on me to advance him portions oj? this fund,
as money was needed for the church. It was ar
ranged that for these advances he was to pay in
terest ; but as he had himself to supplement the
fund, that arrangement of course fell to the ground.
Keble was extremely touched and gratified by this
testimony from his friends. He took great pains and

Restoration of Hursley Church. 349
interest in the designs first, and in the execution
afterwards ; and I mention with pleasure the friendly
part which artists and professional men took in the
matter out of respect to him ; Mr. Dyce volunteered
help as to designs, and much correspondence took
place between the two on the subject ; a more learned
and tasteful assistant he could scarcely have had,;
Mr. Copley Fielding was a contributor ; Mr. Rich
mond also ; but eventually he had the good fortune
to secure the direction and inspection of Mr. Butter-
field, a candid but severe judge, who, I remember,
was not satisfied in respect ofthe east window, until
the third essay had been made; two, which were
finished and placed, were removed wholly or in part
to make way for it. It is but justice to Mr. Wailes,
who, I think, executed all the windows, to say that he
submitted to his judgment with perfect good temper.
The first stone had been laid on May 20, 1847;
the consecration, as I have stated, was on Oct. 24,
1848. I had the happiness to be present at it with
my brother Patteson ; and I met a large assemblage
of common friends, many whom I had not seen
for many years, some whom I saw then for the last
time ; in the retrospect of such meetings there is
usually, I think, more of sober pleasure than of
sorrow. The numbers who assembled at an early
service in the Barn which had been used as a tem
porary church, and afterwards at the church itself,
were large ; and in my memorandum, made at the

35° Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
time, I perceive that I noted with pleasure the due
proportion : of smOck-fro.cks among the congrega
tion. ' Our only drawback, and a serious one it was,
was the ill-health and suffering looks of Sir William,
who, however, although unable to go through all
the services and fatigues of the day, opened his house
to a very large number of the guests, and; entered
into the feeling of the day heartily. In the memo
randum to which I have already referred, I see I note
"the sweet state' of humble, happy thankfulness" in
which Keble and his wife appeared to be ; it was
happiness to him to see assembled at the Vicarage,
which "was full to overflowing, so many, whom he
dearly loved, and who so cordially sympathized with
him ; but it was, as I called it truly, "humble, and
happy thankfulness," with which he regarded the-
completion of his long-cherished, long-laboured de
sign—the erection of a church according to his means,.
suitable for the worship of God, and in advancement
of the ;best interests of his parishioners. The money,
a large sum for him, nearly, if not quite, double
the amount specified in the. first limited contract,
was perhaps the least part of what it had cost him ;
everything, from the first materials to the lastfinish
even of the minutest article in the ornamentation,
had his, personal care bestowed on if. I remember
specially; admiring the aptness of the several texts
with; which the steps from the entrance ofthe church
to. the altar were faced.; and the same attention tt>

Restoration of Hursley Church. 351
fitness was to be observed in every part . of the
church. There was no stained glass in the win
dows then, but, as I noticed at the time, we
scarcely missed it. It is but just to say that Mrs.
Keble participated most heartily in his care first,
and delight afterwards, and was> in heart at least,
a willing contributor to the expense incurred.
The completion of the tower, and the addition of
a beautiful spire, were subsequently accomplished
by- Sir William; and I scarcely know any parish
church where the spire is so beautiful ah object
from so many points as this. Keble, at the request
Of the builder, mounted to the summit, and with his
own hand placed the- last stone on it, when that
finishing act was -to be done, not, as he told my in
formant, without fear of a fall.
He was happy and thankful. But it was during
the progress of the work that the state of affairs in
the Church weighed heavily on his spirits ; ' he says,
Writing to me in May about his building : —
"Meantime I try to make up my mind to that which
seems to me, considering all things, every day more and
more likely, viz. that I shall not myself ever do duty in
that church; at least, so it seems to be. agreed by' those
who are at present in authority, and nobody speaks a. word
against it. " Nevertheless, I suppose it is one's duty to go
on just as, if all were encouraging. . . I know, at least, whose
fault it chiefly is, ' if orie could but have the heart so to

352 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
take it : and that I hope one's friends will be so good
as to ask for one. But enough of that."
This was the year in which Dr. Hampden was
placed as Bishop in the See of Hereford. Keble
and he had been brother fellows of Oriel, and per
sonally he had a great regard for him. It was,
therefore, a painful duty to him to take part in the
proceedings which were instituted to prevent his
Confirmation ; abortive they were ; but they had the
effect, at all events, of calling attention to the need
less and shockingly profane mockery which the law
enforces in the election and confirmation of bishops ;
and it may be hoped, that some day it will turn
out that in this respect, at least, those proceedings
were not wholly useless.
Keble's apprehensions, however, it must be ad
mitted, were exaggerated, not only for himself, but
for the Church. He was not only able to remain
the Incumbent of Hursley to his death, with the
good assent, I believe, even of those who differed
from him most widely in opinions ; but the Church
of England has maintained, I will not say the posi
tion which he thought she ought to hold, and those
who think with him desire she should, but one at
least as near to it, as he had seen her in possession
of at any time in his life.
For himself personally, he was an object of general

Accident at Winchester. 353
love and admiration, without respect to any religious
differences. And this was strikingly manifested on
occasion of an accident which befel him in the Close
at Winchester in November, 1847. He always spoke
of the exceeding kindness then shewn to him, espe
cially I think by Canon Woodrooffe, but generally by
the residents there. He was driving with Mr. Rogers,
a brother of Sir F. Rogers, and, as he says, " by a
very foolish piece of carelessness" of his own, the
carriage was run away with, and both of them
thrown out. It was owing, he says, "to a very
merciful Providence," that they escaped with their
lives. He was laid up for a short time, but no ma
terial injury was in the end sustained by either.

A a

CHAPTER XV.
SHOULD KEBLE HAVE BEEN PREFERRED TO DIG
NITY IN THE CHURCH. — TOUR IN WALES, AND
VISIT TO IRELAND, 1840. — TOUR IN SCOTLAND,
1842. — UNDERTAKES TO WRITE LIFE OF BISHOP
WILSON. — VISIT TO ISLE OF MAN, 1 849. — MAR
RIAGES WITH SISTER OF DECEASED WIFE, 1 849.
— SECOND VISIT TO MAN, 1852. — TRIP TO SKYE,,
1853-
I HAVE ventured to intimate an opinion at the
close of the preceding chapter that Keble some
times allowed himself to indulge too much in what
might almost be called a querulous foreboding as
to the Church of England, and the utterances of
a severe spirit against the proceedings of the autho
rities both in Church and State in regard to mea
sures affecting Her ; and that in the intensity and
single-mindedness with which he pursued a principle,
he scarcely made due allowance for the difficulties
which beset those in high places. It will be under
stood, I hope, or injustice would be done him, that
this mode of thinking and speaking was by no means
extended to persons ; if in a moment of irritation he
said or wrote anything "scornful," (as he called it,)
of any one, he would be seriously angry with him-

Keble not Promoted. 355
self, and add probably some severe term of general
self-condemnation. I have mentioned the intensity of his spirit as one
cause of what I remark on, and I may add that as
years passed on, the authority of his character so
deepened, and the greater part of those with whom
he lived, and of whom he saw most, had such a re-
"verence for him, that his opinions were seldom can
vassed with that freedom in conversation with him
self which is good for the wisest of men. For
myself I liked, I confess, to express my occasional
oppositions to him in my correspondence, rather
than in conversation; I could do so more freely,
although I always felt not merely the superiority
of his intellect, but of his knowledge on most of the
subjects we discussed. But I remember conversing
with Dyson on some matter, "Synods" I believe,
on which Keble and I had differed. He happened
to agree with me, "But then," said he, "when Keble
is with me discussing such things, he is so earnest,
and I have such a feeling, that one with so much
holiness, as well as learning and ability, must be
right, that I succumb at the time to arguments
and assertions, which, when I think them over after
wards, do not always satisfy my reason, or my ac
quaintance with history." And then adverting to
the subject of discussion, in reference to Keble's
argument, he added, what I have recollected ever
since, "In such matters we ought not to be fet-

356 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
tered by the forms and precedents of antiquity, but
should look to the spirit and to the circumstances
of respective ages ; never losing sight of these latter,
making them indeed our pole-star, but dealing re
spectfully, yet not servilely, with the forms."
No one, moreover, could be more hearty, or hum
ble in his expressions of thankfulness for personal
kindness, or of commendation, where any measure*
seemed to him taken wisely, or pursued in a right
spirit, even by those from whom he very commonly
differed in judgment.
But I should not write sincerely, if I did not say
that there were some things said and done which
might well wound him in the tenderest part. " The
sorrow of his life," as I have called it, the loss,
namely, to the Church, and to himself, of his dearest
friend, he attributed in good measure, and I think
with too much justice, to the conduct systematically
pursued towards him ; and it was but an embitter-
ment when men with much coarseness and little
wisdom of spirit pointed to the result as a justifi
cation of their course of conduct. And this was
not uncommonly done by those who seemed little
able to trace the complex motives which often
operate to produce human actions, sometimes even
without the consciousness of the doers of them. This,
however, is a subject on which I can do no more than
touch for obvious reasons.
Beyond this, however, which wounded him so

Keble not Promoted. 357
deeply, it must be remembered that he thought
sincerely that vital doctrines of the Faith, and the
Catholicity of the Church were, at least, endangered
more than once by things allowed, or sanctioned
by, sometimes even directly proceeding from, those
in Her high places. No interests were dearer to
him than those involved ; he might be wrong in his
opinions, but he had, at least, a right to hold and
to express them ; for no one could impute that he
took them up hastily; or that he had not thought
and read deeply on the subjects to which they re
lated ; or that he had any but the purest motives
in his advocacy of them.
Dignities in the Church, I think, never entered
into his contemplation for himself. I cannot re
collect in all our correspondence, or in our most
intimate conversations, a single expression which
pointed that way; and I believe that, if they had
been offered, they would have been declined. I
have, perhaps, no right to express an opinion on
this subject, except to say in fairness that it must
have been so gratifying, and obviously so popular
a thing to exercise the power of patronage in his
promotion, that independently of all personal con
siderations, a strong presumption arises that the ab
staining from it, whether wise or not, was strictly con
scientious. Yet I cannot but believe that it would
have been good for Keble, good for both parties
in the Church, and what is more to the purpose,
have conduced to the holding of opinions with more

3 5 8 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
charity, if honours had been offered to and accepted
by him. A long experience confirms me in think
ing that where persons oppose each other honestly,
however decidedly, in belief or opinion, the cause of
truth, which commonly lies between both, and of
charity, without which even truth itself can scarcely
be maintained truly, is greatly served by the neces
sities, the softening and enlightening necessities, of
personal and official communion. Rarely, indeed,
do fallible men hold the truth without some ad
mixture of error, and even where they hold to that
which is error in the main, commonly this is miti
gated, morally at least to the individual, by some
infusion of truth in particulars. Moreover, in the re
ligious differences of Christians there must be much,
and of importance too, which is common ground;
and where honest men are compelled by their posi
tion to act together in some common duty, or with
regard to some common interests, this ground be
comes more apparent, and is estimated more justly
as to its importance. These are general considera
tions ; but in regard to Keble it is not the over
weening fondness of friendship, I feel sure, which
makes me say that there were exceptional consi
derations also which ought not to have been with
out weight; as his was a nature so humble, and
so loving, that personal influences would have spe
cially touched and softened his heart, so were his
claims and merits so undeniable, and so remarkable,
that to pass him over was in effect not merely to

Keble and his Curate. 359
ignore them, but to imply in some measure a con
demnation of him.
I have mentioned that Mr. Wilson, the first In
cumbent at Anipfield, was the first Curate of Ke
ble's appointment at Hursley. This connection was
the commencement of an intimate friendship be
tween them which ended only with Keble's life.
Mr. Wilson has been kind enough to furnish me
with many of Keble's letters, which, among other
things, uniformly disclose the delightful footing on
which the Vicar and Curate stood towards each
other. The first letter in which the Curacy is of
fered, gives the tone to all that follow; at that
time Mr. Wilson was comparatively a stranger ; but
nothing can be more open, or considerate, or kind ;
and the series shews how pleasant that relation
may be made to the parties, how instructive to
the younger, how beneficial to the parish. When
ever Keble was absent, he received minute accounts
of everything which occurred in the parish, of im
portance for him to know, and especially of every
¦sick, or offending parishioner. It is obvious from
ihis answers that he maintained not merely the in
terest, which was of course with hira, but such
a knowledge in detail of all that required his ad*
vice, or interference, that he might almost be said to
be present in directing or sanctioning whatever it
might be necessary to do. I reserve some parti
culars as to this matter for a later stage in my

360 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
work, but I mention these letters now, because hav
ing anticipated events in order to complete at once
what I had to say respecting the new church, I
go back and shall be indebted to them for some
facts which seem worth mentioning, especially as
Keble will be himself for the most part the nar
rator of them.
He did not willingly take leave of absence from
Hursley, but there were few years from about the
period of his life at which I am now arrived, in
which Mrs. Keble's delicate health, and indications
of lassitude or weakness, rather than absolute failure
in his own, did not make a change of air and scene
for her, with relaxation from his work for himself
desirable, if not necessary ; and so he commonly
left home for some few weeks in the summer; and
this I think he would scarcely have consented to,
unless he had felt perfect confidence in the substi
tute, upon whom the care of the parish devolved in
his absence.
Perhaps I have mentioned before, that in 1840, he
was in North Wales, and stayed some days at Bar
mouth. Thence he made his way by Harlech to
Tan-y-bwlch, and so by Bedd-gelert to Llanberis,
Carnarvon, and Beaumaris. From this last place
he writes to Mr. Wilson. He passed a Sunday at
Llanberis, and describes it thus. So many years
have elapsed, and matters, I dare say, are now so
much mended, that I may print the account with-

Tour in Wales. 361

out fear of giving pain to any one. The date is
August 19, 1840: — ;
"This implies our being at home by Sunday, the 14th
Sept", at the very farthest. It is an unconscionably long
absence, but if it really sets up my wife with tolerably good
health against the winter, it is perhaps one's duty to stay
out even that long time. And I cannot but say it is very
pleasant I enjoy Wales and the Welch, the mountains,
and shores, and waterfalls, of all things ; but I am afraid I
shaU come home without going up either of the great moun
tains. And I have an unpleasant feeling that my time
passes away very quick in proportion to the work I do ;
there is always some wonderment or other to hinder either
reading, writing, or thinking, and yet one feels that such
objects as Snowdon, whether far or near, ought to make
one think to the best purpose. One thing I really imagine
one does learn by travelling in Wales, and that is to realize
in earnest the present condition of the Church in G. Britain.
E.g. last Sunday we were staying at the nearest good Inn
we could find to Snowdon, and we found, that in the Parish
Church (of Llanberis), there was but one service, varying
in time from nj to j\, the Clergyman living 6 utiles off,
and no one knowing which the hour would be, the parish
perhaps 15 miles long. So we went at 11, that we might
have plenty of time to look about us. When we got there,
we sent our car away, and wandered a little up the glen,
which, as I dare say you know, is most romantic, tiU we
heard the Church Bell. We hastened back and found that
in the Church was going on, not service, but a sort of school
of adult Welchmen, and some children, who seemed to be
learning to read, and saying a sort of catechism to a man
whom I much suspected of acting sometimes as Teacher in

362 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
a different sort of place about 200 yards from the Church,
it was all Welch. However, we went in, partly for shelter,
as it begun to be cold and drizzling, and the people seemed
very little put out by our being there. After a time they
had finished their work, and went home, I suppose, to
dinner, the man first saying a prayer in Welch, with seem
ingly much grave devotion. We were left in the Church
alone, and so had time to read the best part of the service
together in English, during the latter part of which some
chUdren were watching us, but behaved very well. At last,
a good deal after one o'clock came the Parson, put us into
a pew, and the regular service proceeded. There were but
few persons, and the singing was much inferior to what we
have generally heard in Welch Churches, but all was to
the ear very unaffected and solemn ; and to the eye also,
except the extreme dirt and negligence of the old Church,
and all its appointments ; it is very old, standing a far better
chance, I imagine, of belonging to the 7th Century, than
most of those whereof our friend S  did so vaunt him
self; and it is a very handsome plan of a church, a long
nave with a triple Chancel, and a large and old font at the
West End ; the stone so massive, with such varied rough
nesses, and weather-stains, as almost to give the effect of
architecture by itself. It is a good deal the worse for
Churchwardenizing ; but that is nothing to the dirty dis
respectful condition in which the whole of it is left,— from
tlie tottering three-legged Communion-Table, which stands
so near the rails, that a man leaned his hands on it to say
his prayers, when he first came into Church, to the tumbled
frill of the Minister's Surplice, every thing shewed a con
sistent dislike of soap, and of ecclesiastical decency. One
thing only was satisfactory, the seats of the people were as
dirty and uncomfortable as anything else. And all this in

Visits to Ireland and Scotland. 363

the midst of the most glorious sights and sounds in nature.
WeU, good-bye. God mend us all. Your ever affectionate, J. K.»
From Wales they crossed to Ireland, "Went on
board at 7, and woke up in Kingston Harbour in
a most exquisite calm moonlight at if." Their
direct object was a short visit to Mr. Trench, near
Athy, and they seem to have well employed their
time for a few days in seeing much that was in
teresting. He writes again from Tan-y-bwld on the
30th of August, in his way to Bisley and home.
They reached the latter safely, and much refreshed,
and I think Mrs. Keble's health occasioned no move
ment from home for any length of time during the
remainder of that or all the following year.
In the summer of 1842, he went to Scotland, and
it is worth while to insert here parts of a letter to
Mr. Wilson, dated from Edinburgh on the 29th of
July ; a great deal of it is taken up in minute direc
tions about persons and things in Hursley, but much
relates to his tour. If he had been scandalized at
the outward appearance of things relating to the
Church in Wales, it was to be expected he would
be not less so at what he saw in Scotland; even
the contrast of the past, which beautiful ruins pre
sented to his eye, made the present more distressing
to him. His language is strong, but it must be re
membered that he is writing in the freedom of in
timate correspondence. He calls it at the close of
his letter, " a spit of toad-like venom."

364 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
" We came here," he says, " yesterday, from Melrose, by
way of Abbotsford and Peebles, to which latter we turned,
expecting to meet a coach, but were too late for it. I have
been more struck with this place even than I expected, and
only wish I could kick down their heathen Parthenon, and
put a true Church in its place, a York or Lincoln of the
best proportions. As yet I have scarce seen any thing but
from this window, for we found so many letters and proof-
sheets waiting here, that we have not yet done our neces
sary morning's work in answering them. But I think of
calling on Mr. Ramsay, not only as you seemed to wish
it, but also because I want to get into some Library to
get some of the sheets corrected. The Kirks, and the
manner in which they defile and insult the sacred places,
e.g. Jedburgh Abbey, are even more horrid than I had ex
pected. I would not be in one of them at service time on
any consideration. They proclaim aloud, every inch of
them, 'down with the altar.' The true churches, except
the ruins, seem few and far between ; they told me at Mel
rose, there was none nearer than Kelso, or Peebles, but I
suspect I saw a new one at Galashiels.
"Last Sunday we were at Carlisle, which bids fair be
fore long tb be a Kirk instead of a Church, according to
appearances ; a beautiful Choir, most slovenly served and
attended; no one but ourselves, and one lady with 2 or 3
more strangers on St. James' Day. I was greatly disap
pointed there altogether. Temporally, I do not know when
I have seen so thriving a country as these Lowlands ; the
little manufacturing towns on our road, though rather com
plaining, seemed still to have work ; and the tillage seemed
to surpass any thing I ever saw. Between Kelso and Jed
burgh they were reaping barley, and the com crops are
spoken of as excellent. But the great delight is to see the
places one has read so much of in W. Scptt. We went by

Visit to Scotland. 365

Kelso, that we might see Sandyknow, where, you know, he
was at nurse, and I am very glad we did so ; we called
also at Dryburgh in our way to Melrose, and Abbotsford,
and passed by Ashestiel in our way to Peebles ; in short,
we seem to meet him everywhere as we did Wordsworth in
the Lake Country. We have missed Yarrow, which I was
sorry for, but the weather was unpromising yesterday morn
ing. As to Melrose, I Hke it altogether the best of any
ruin I ever saw; but surely something bad must happen
to the Scots for resisting so many years the witness which
such places bear against them. The scrolls, and the few
images which remain, are most beautiful circumstances in
it. I suspect the Presbyterian Teacher there is afraid of
the effect of the Abbey on people's minds, as he has built
up a high wall in his garden to obstruct the view where he
could. It was comfortable in the Lake Country to see so
many good new churches, and to hear the people every
where talk so kindly of the Squires and Parsons ; also to
hear old Wordsworth, how he kept falling back on Church
Matters, whatever other subject was started. . . I conclude,
sending you aU good wishes, and among the rest, that we
may soon meet again ; although I must own the Grampian
Peaks looked very tempting to-day from Mons Meg. Ever
affectionately yours. J. K."
Wordsworth and Walter Scott were objects of his
most affectionate admiration; how he testified this,
as to the former, I have already mentioned ; and as
to the latter, I ought to refer my readers to a well-
known article by him in the "British Critic8," on
* I take the opportunity, which this mention of the "British Critic"
gives me, to express a strong desire, felt not by myself alone, but by
many others, whose opinions are of more authority, to see published

366 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Lockhart's Life of him, remarkable not only for its
ability, but for the loving and ardent spirit in which
it is written. In spite of the strong language in his
letter, he retained a very kindly recollection of his
tour, and of Scotland. Writing to Mr. Wilson in
1846, who was then in that country, he says : —
" You will get this at Monteviot I hope. How pleasant
it is to have such a home feeling about so many of the
places you go to. Remember us most kindly to your
hostess, and to your travelling Tutor. I wonder if you
will like Jedburgh Abbey, and Ferniehurst, (if you see it,)
as well as we did."
I ought to have mentioned before this, that Keble
had lent his aid to some friends who were associated
together for the purpose of editing a Library of
Anglo- Catholic Theology. This seemed to him a
cognate scheme to that of the Library of the Fathers,
and he joined in it heartily, served effectively on the
a collection of, or judicious selection from, Keble's contributions to
Periodicals. Of these the most important will be found in the "British
Critic," when it was issued quarterly : but I believe his earliest pub
lished writings were in the " British Critic" when it was a monthly
review, and under the direction of my friend, the Rev. Thomas
Rennell, Vicar of Kensington ; one of these, on Bishop Horsley, lives
in my recollection, as specially characteristic of himself, such as lie
was to his latest day ; but I do not possess it, nor can I refer to it. He,
contributed also, in 1825, a paper on Sacred Poetry at my request to
the "Quarterly Review," which will be found in vol. xxxii. p. 211.
This of course has a special value ; but I may say generally, that when
he wrote only occasionally and anonymously, he wrote as carefully and
conscientiously as when he was more directly responsible ; and I cannot
but think the publication I desire would be very valuable, and very
acceptable to the public.

Visit to the Isle of Man. 367
Committee, and personally undertook to superintend
the publication of a complete edition of Bishop Wil
son's works, to be preceded by a Life of the Author,
wliich he promised to write. The Bishop was a spe
cial favourite of his, and he entered on the work
heartily; but many interruptions retarded the exe
cution of his promise, and the Life was not finished
until 1863. What there may be to say about it, I
will reserve for the present ; and I mention it now
mainly, because, in 1849, he was induced by it to
make his summer sea excursion for Mrs. Keble's
benefit a trip to the Isle of Man, that he might
procure information on the spot, and see the places
in which the Bishop hved and acted for so many
years of his Hfe. The scheme answered very well
both for her, and his own object. He was much
amused, and returned refreshed in body and mind.
Writing to me on various matters on September 26,
after he had reached Hursley, he says : —
"I have lots to say about Mona, and Bishop Wilson,
but cannot now go on with it ; the tour was a very pleasant,
and on the whole not an unsuccessful one. The Bishop
very kind and hospitable, and as off-hand as Lloyd used
to be. The clergy a nice set, but rather Wesleyanized."
I believe Lord Auckland will not be offended at
this free comparison of him with Bishop Lloyd ; in
Keble's mouth it meant a great compliment, for the
Bishop of Oxford was one in whom he delighted ;

368 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
nor I trust will the clergy of the Island, should any
of them chance to see it, be scandalized at his re
mark on them.
It was while he was in Man that he received in
telligence of the death of George Cornish's eldest
daughter, and I shall be forgiven for inserting the
letter which he wrote to the afflicted parents ; it has
to me a special and mournful interest from the. re
collection that within a month from the date of it,
the father to whom it was addressed, himself sunk
under his many trials : — " Douglas, I. of Man.
August 22, 1849.
" My dearest George,
" We got your letter here Only last night, and it was a sort
of stunning blow to me, for somehow I had grown to be
sanguine about dear Essy's recovery ; and in many ways
it comes very near one. God grant that when one's own
turn comes, (who knows how soon?) one may leave as
little cause of anxiety to those who shall survive, as she
has now left ; and if pain, Hke her's, be needful to prepare
us, may He in His mercy send it, and give us grace to bear
it. You know, dear friends, that our thoughts are very
much with you, and those of one of us at least, to good
purpose. We shall be anxious for the next account of
you all, but don't trouble yourselves to write ; let it cpme
through Bisley, where we hope to be, one or both of us, in
the course of the next week. It is comfortable to think
of your being so many, so loving and dutiful, and of the
help you wUl be of to one another ; and I need not say to
you, because you must know it full well, how desirable it

Visit to Lyme Regis and Sidmouth. 369
is to lose no time in using yourselves to speak freely and
calmly to one another of those who are out of sight, as
though they were, as they are, only out of sight. I am
more and more thankful that dear Robert is with you. Do
take all care of yourselves, and let him take care of you.
What a treasure to their Father, and to you, must be those
little children. May they prove so more and more.
"We hope to get back to England to-morrow, and to
Bisley, or Hursley, by the end of next week. Here we
have been Hving, as it were, under the shadow of Bishop
Wilson's wing ; and surely it is a thing for which we ought
to be the better.
" C. sends her loving remembrances to you all, especially
to dear Kenie. May we all love one another the better for
each one of us who is taken to the Home of Love.
" Ever your most aff'e,
"J. K."
I have spoken already, in my notice of George
Cornish, of his death in September of this year,
and how Keble mourned for his loss ; his feelings
towards all that generation of the Cornish family
were those of a very fond elder brother ; and the
affection towards his widow, and all that remained
of another generation, continued unabated. Indeed,
it was strengthened by the engagement of his bro
ther's only son, whom he regarded as his own, to
her to whom special remembrances are sent by the
name of Kenie ; and in 185 1 he married them at Sal
combe. He went to Sidmouth for the purpose, and
as he had so often done before, he coupled with this
Bb

370 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.

the benefit of a sea-side visit, and change of air for
Mrs. Keble. They re-visited Lyme Regis for a while
before going on to Sidmouth, from which last place
they came to us at Ottery for a few days. He and
I were much together alone, and a great delight it
was to have again that sort of intercourse with him.
He was in good spirits, and no one, when he was in
spirits, could be a more delightful companion. They
returned home towards the end of September. Writ
ing to me, when the wedding party broke up, to fix
the day of his coming, he says : —
" It was a very happy wedding, as far as we can judge,
and I am in good hope that it has done much good to poor
dear Harriet ; it was very touching to see her in her mourn
ing, and to look round the room, and remember things and
people. I will do as I am bidden about Sunday, and shall
be really glad, if I can save Henry a little, for I dare say
he over-works himself. But somehow or other, my sermons
seem more and more disagreeable on a second preaching."
I like to dwell, and perhaps I dwell too much, on
these passing expressions ; they disclose so naturally
the tenderness and simplicity of his character; and
I note here what was observed of him repeatedly in
later life, how he liked to preach when from home
and he had the choice, in a small country church
to the simplest congregation, rather than to a large
number in a church of more display.
It was in this year, 1849, that the measure of
legalizing the marriage of widowers with the sisters

Marriage with Deceased Wife's Sister. 371

of their deceased wives was vigorously pressed in
Parliament, and out of it. Keble felt very strongly
upon this matter, and he opposed it earnestly, per-
severingly, and effectually ; by his personal influence,
wherever he had opportunity to exert it, by framing
and circulating petitions against the Bill, and by the
publication of a vigorous pamphlet. He relied on
the authority of the Church uniform and consistent,
on Scripture, on the tendency of such unions to impair
the holiness of marriage, to disturb the peace, and
corrupt the purity of social life. Some Hebraists
and theologians have questioned the interpretation
of Scripture which he adopted. It rests, I under
stand, on great authorities, and seems very consonant
with common sense ; and he believing in it, of course
could not pass it by. I confess it always seemed
to me that the last grounds were abundantly clear,
and in themselves quite sufficient for his argument ;
and because they were more easily understood and
appreciated, the best on the whole for the generality
to rely on. Keble also pointed out the indirect and
personal motives to which the movement was owing ;
its onesidedness as to the sexes ; and also how un
truly it was urged that the alteration of the law was
at all generally desired by English women. The at
tempts to pass the Bill failed, and I beheve other
attempts have been equally unsuccessful. Measures
of this kind, however, once put forward, are seldom
given over finally, and it is to be feared that the

372 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
efforts to carry this will be renewed. . Should they
be, I commend the pamphlet to the notice of my
readers. It was somewhat earlier in this year of 185 1, that
I consulted him on a difficulty which occurred to
me, in regard to a clergyman who had been my
own pastor, and who had seceded to Rome. He
was a pious and amiable man, and we had lived in
a good deal of social intimacy. Keble answered me
thus : —
' "Now to the question you asked about. I suppose it
has been practically answered by this time; it is a diffi
cult one to answer for another person; but if it were my
own case, I should keep up as much intercourse as I could
in the way of morning visits with the rest of the family;
but I could not have him to dine. I should consider it
scandalous in respect of the servants, to say no other;
they know that he is a clergyman who has renounced his
Orders ; and it cannot be but certain thoughts "must enter
into their minds, if they think of such things at aU.
"In one respect this Lent is much pleasanter than
last, that one does not live, in a perpetual fever of Church
Union Meetings, &c. : how far it is the calm of despair
may admit of a question, as far I mean as our cause is
a public cause; for as to private feelings, one seems, thank
God, to be more and more sure that one was and is right
in staying. Now, good night, dearest friend. From your
ever loving, J. K." •»
It was about this time that he was consulted by
a gentleman who was meditating a very unusual step.

A Layman's Testimony to the English Church. 373

I am at liberty to mention the circumstance, and I
do so chiefly for the sake of the letter in which he
gave his answer. The gentleman was at the time
a layman, not a young man, and engaged actively
in a liberal profession ; circumstances had occurred
in his family, which made it seem to him a sort
of special duty to give as strong a testimony as
he could personally to the Church of England ; he
thought therefore of applying for Ordination, and
to be allowed to fill a vacancy that had been made
in a small country cure in his neighbourhood. It
was obviously a matter that demanded much con
sideration, and, as so many others did in their diffi
culties, he turned to Keble for advice. His letter
I have not the means of referring to, but I have
the answer before me, and I am at liberty to use it.
He says : —
" Concerning your scheme, one can feel nothing but joy
and thankfulness that such a thought should have come
into your heart. It startled me, I own, at first, but on
coming to ask myself why, I reaUy beheve that this was
only from its being so new and unusual a thing, though in
a certam sense it may seem very old ; for who knows but it
may have been put into your mind for the same kind of
purpose, which made so many of our forefathers of aU ages
and stations enter the rehgious Hfe. I do not of course
compare the two, but may it not be in our day the same
kind of thing in some measure ? This I say to myself to
meet the scrapie you hint at, and which a great many would
feel, about being less useful so, than as a Layman trying

374 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
his best. It seems to me that this would be more to the
purpose, if you cut short your active professional Hfe for
the sake of doing this ; but it would not be so ; it would
be something substituted for misceUaneous and not strictly
professional work, and in that respect would perhaps in
volve a good deal of self-denial; of course you will con
sider well beforehand, whether, applying yourself as you
would wish to do to your new profession, you wiU have
leisure for the many calls for time and thought which are
sure to be made on you in your retirement. You will not
Hke to put them by, and I can fancy them going on on
such a large scale as to interfere seriously with your pas
toral work.
" I only mention this for consideration ; there may he
nothing in it, your habits being so active.
"The testimony both as regards religion generaUy, and
faith in our own Church particularly, would, as it seems to
me, be the stronger in such a change, than in a person's
continuing a dutiful Layman.
" On the whole, (I have been just reading over your letter
again,) I am much inclined to say, go on and prosper, and
may a great blessing attend you."
Keble, from his own experience perhaps, seems
to have had his attention principally drawn to the
calls, which might probably be made on the gentle
man, for advice in matters relating to his abandoned
profession, and be an hindrance to him in his new
one ; he seems to have overlooked that it was in
tended evidently to cut short the professional life;
but in itself he had no difficulty in assenting to
the sacrifice. This might have been expected from
him.

A Layman's Testimony to the English Church. 375
There was a second letter from him, from which
it appears that another friend had also been con
sulted, whose opinion was opposed to the change.
It did not alter Keble's view, for which he gives his
reasons. However, whether from the occurrence of
new circumstances, or some change in the gentle
man's mind, I know not, his purpose was never car
ried into effect. But I have thought it fitting to
mention the incident, and publish the letter; they
recall the recollection of that anxious time, when
the hearts of serious men were greatly searched by
a flood of doubts and questionings on the contro
versy between the Two Churches. The secessions
to Rome, though not numerous, and with a very
few exceptions little note-worthy or influential as
examples, yet produced in the families in which
they occurred the deepest and most lasting dis
tress. They, indeed, who then left father and mother,
brother and sister, and made great temporal sacri
fices, were not in truth generally those who suffered
the most, or the longest. It pleased God to guard
our Church from any permanent depression, or in
jury ; and it may be hoped that we have learned to
regard such events with sorrow indeed, and it may
often be self-reproach, but with a more comprehen
sive, and I will add reasonable charity, than we could
easily exercise at first. I will not undertake to say
whether, as regards the individual case which has
occasioned these remarks, Keble or the dissentient

376 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
friend was on the whole right. The wisdom of the re
solution may be questionable, but there is no reason
to doubt of the gentleman's sincerity, and I cannot
but agree in the opinion that as a testimony, the
step would have probably been impressive on many
minds. However, events have shewn, and we may
acknowledge it thankfully, that it was not a neces
sary one.
Later in the year 1851, I was threatened with
a very heavy sorrow by the seemingly desperate
illness of a married daughter, which I mention only
to introduce a letter I received from him when mat
ters appeared to be at the worst. It would seem
to me ingratitude to withhold such a testimony at
once to the tenderness of his heart, and to the re
ligious aspect in which he contemplated all such
trials : — "H. V., $ Nov*, 1851.
" My dearest Coleridge,
"I cannot be easy without writing one line to you at
such a time as this, though I well know how impossible
it is for me really to sympathise with your distress. Only
I cannot help imagining that your dear child's sufferings
are in kind rather like my Mary Anne's in 1826, con
cerning which I have always felt that it seemed a case
which the Great Physician had taken most entirely into
His own hands, so utterly powerless did all human means
appear from the very beginning ; and the distress in kind
so utterly unlike what one could have expected for one so
sweet and loving. So that ever since, one has thought of
her, I trust not presumptuously, as of one much nearer

Excursions. 377

a martyr's estate than most even of those whom one re
members most thankfully. My dearest friend, your fatherly
heart, as it will feel the rending and tearing of such a visi
tation in a way which such as I cannot imagine, so it will
be by His mercy, I trust, opened to receive this treasure
of comfort far beyond my comprehension. He who has
granted you to take care of this precious jewel for Him
self, will enable you to bear your temporary loss of it, I am
sure of that; and who knows how available her presence
there, (if He should now take her,) may be to avert some
of the evils which we have been most dreading of late ? I
must write one line to dear M  , God grant it may be
of some small comfort to her. We have mentioned dear
A  , though not byname, in our prayers and communion,
since we heard of her illness. Our affectionate love is with
you aU. Your most loving, J. K."
Again, in 1852, Keble made his summer sea-side
trip, for Mrs. Keble's sake serve the purpose also
of his own preparation for the Life of Bishop Wil
son, on which he was now engaged. They went in
August to the Isle of Man, " got a lodging in a very
pretty place," enjoyed their stay much, and returned
" the haler and the heartier for it." He wrote to me
from Leeds, whither he had gone in his return by
desire of Dr. Pusey, to compose some little differ
ences ; he spoke with great gratitude of the kind
ness they had received from the Bishop and his
whole family. He drops, too, a hint of that which
had for years been much on his mind, and on which

378 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
perhaps he thought a little too much in the com
position of his Memoir : —
" If one had skill, the information gathered might be
made very profitable, partly as to the good Bishop's per
sonal character and opinions, but stUl more as to the dis
cipline of the Island, as a fragment of former days, and
perhaps as furnishing hints for the future."
I have mentioned one of Keble's trips to Scotland.
In 1853 he made another, which he speaks of shortly
in the following letter : — " H. V., 6 Oct', 1853.
" My very dear Coleridge,
" I am tired of not writing to you, though I have very
little to say. But I do wish to know whether you have
any objection to appropriating the proceeds of the next
Edition of the Lyra to Fredericton, for I very much wish to
do some little for dear Medley, and hardly know how to do
it any other way. We had a most successful flight to Skye
and back, staying out two Sundays. We escaped all the
violent weather, and had the perfection of steam travelling
in every respect, but the crowds that were with us; Sea,
Mountain, and Sky, all along performing the most exquisite
Trios for our amusement. I suppose, putting the hours to
gether, that I was not less than seven days on board, and
I was not at all sick the whole time, a great triumph for
me; and C. I think entirely enjoyed it; and though she
came back with a cold, she is certainly able to walk far
ther than she could. Skye scenery beats what I expected,
and so does the whole of the Inverness and Rosshire Coast

Another Visit to Scotland. 379
as we saw it from the steamer ; the Coolea HUls are not so
high as some others, but their forms are, I think, the finest
I have seen. Among other people we met the Bp. of
London, and his famUy, who were staying at BaflachuHsh,
and they were very good-natured. On our way home we
stayed a night at Bisley, which was very refreshing, and
now we have been at home near a month, and have had
several visitors ; R. WUberforce especially, about whom there
is stfll more anxiety than one could wish ; though his book
is meeting with such success as I for one could never have
dreamed of. But I reaUy cannot imagine a person of his
truthfulness, learning, and good temper, putting up with the
Roman system as a Convert. [Keble is speaking of Arch
deacon WUberforce's able and learned treatise on the
Doctrine of the Holy Eucharist] I should be glad to
hear anything you can teU me of the Lay Crusade against
the parti pr&re. My expectation is, (God avert it,) that
 &c, wiU have their own way, and that if the world
lasts, there wUl be something as bad as Popery, only in
another direction, marring the Gospel as Popery did, for
want of simple faith in the first Gospel as the Apostles
left it .... I wish I could find the double of WUson for
Ampfield, for I grieve to say he is obKged to go for reasons
of health. It is the greatest loss. Our very kind love to
aU. Your ever loving J. K."
I am unable to say what answer I returned as to
the Lyra, nor is it material ; but I would not omit
the question, because it is a testimony to a dear
friend, one of the most sound, and zealous, and able
of our Colonial Bishops, which it will give him a plea
sure, he well deserves, to see recorded.

380 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
My next letter from him, on the 1 6th of Novem
ber, 1853, was but a note, written under his dicta-'
tion by Mrs. Keble, and only signed by himself. It
was merely an invitation to come down to Hursley,
in respect of a charitable object which he thought'
I might further, and he ends it thus : —
" My worthy friend the Iodine is only just beginning to
tickle me, but I dare say it will do its work in time. Many
thanks for my pleasant visit to you. Affectionately yours,
"J-K-"
This attack was probably a precursor, or fore
warning of that with which he was visited so much
more seriously not many years after; it was more
serious, however, than he seems to have regarded
it as being ; for three months after, writing to me, he
speaks of his " nearly recovered hand." I was about
to say it would have been well if he had learned
from it to be more prudent, and to remit in' some
measure the constant strain to which he submitted
both body and mind in the discharge of the duties,
regular and irregular, which fell on him. But I will
not say this ; it was well for him to labour as he did,
though his frame sunk under it at last ; it was hap
pier for him so to do iri this life, and who can doubt
that it is far happier for him in another.

CHAPTER XVI.
DEATH OF W. C. YONGE, 1 854. — OXFORD
UNIVERSITY REFORM.
EARLY in the year 1854, Keble was visited with
a great affliction in the sudden death of Wil
liam Yonge, whom I have had occasion to mention
before. In any way it would have affected him much,
but in the particular circumstances it was specially
afflicting. His only son, a young soldier, was to
sail with his regiment on what turned out to be
the Crimean expedition, and the old soldier busied
himself with his usual activity in equipping him for
the service ; perhaps, it may be feared, beyond his
strength. On his return home from this exertion he
had an apoplectic seizure, and although, during what
seemed a respite, his son was able to hurry home to
see him, it was but for three hours, during the whole
of which he was asleep. No more could be allowed.
He died without seeing him just after the sailing of
the regiment, and too late for the news to reach the
son before the vessel touched at Malta. This was
a severe visitation on the mother and sister, the only
surviving members of the family ; the Kebles were
on the most intimate terms with them, and no one

382 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
would be more likely to sympathize with them in
their sorrow than they ; but Keble felt the loss ten
derly in many ways for himself; William C. Yonge,
beside his goodness and tenderness of heart, often
concealed from the many, and in matters of indif
ference, by a somewhat stern manner, had a fond
ness for business and knowledge of it, a readiness of
apprehension, and decision of character, which Keble
was glad to lean on. " What we shall do here with
out W. C. Y.," he says, in communicating the event
to Mr. Wilson, who was abroad, " I cannot think."
He writes to me : —
"lam grieved to the heart to think that the first letter I
write to you with my nearly-recovered hand should have to
announce such sad news."
And after describing the particulars, and the state
of the widow and daughter, he says : —
"What they will do without him, what we and all the
neighbours will do, especially what Otterbourn will do, I
am sure I cannot say. There is really no one that I know
of in this Parish at all to take his place. But our loss, (we
may speak it, D. V., with more absolute confidence than
usual,) is his exceeding gain."
And, again, on the 31st of March he says to me:—
" But you would be surprised to see how we miss him at
every turn, and find that it is indeed a gap which will never
be filled up. But of course this is a feeling of which one

Oxford University Reform Bill. 383
must expect more and more. . . . Do you not mean to come
this Circuit again some time, and let me have one of my
pleasant drives, or walks with you? I have no Wilson, nor
Yonge now, and only half-a-Heathcote. [Sir William was
now attending in Parliament as Member for the University. J
But thank God my wife is weU for her, and walked the day
before yesterday 2 \ miles. With love to you aU, I am af
fect1* yours, J. K"~
It will be seen that Keble in the eariiest of these
letters to me, from which I have made extracts,
dated on the 26th of February, 1854, speaks of his
"nearly recovered hand." It appears from the same
letter, that it had been thought desirable for him to
come to London for advice in regard to it, and that
I had urged him to do so again ; he refused, saying,
" It is so nearly well, that I do not think it need go
a consulting any more. I only wish I was as likely
to make a good use of it, as to have the use of it."
Whatever the affection was, it seemed to pass away;.
he wrote as much as ever, and I see no marked
change in the character of his handwriting for several
years after this.
A subject now arose which interested him most
deeply, I may say painfully ; the Oxford University-
Reform Bill, consequent on the report of a Royal
Commission of Inquiry. It is well known that the
provisions of this Bill, which occasioned much debate
in Parliament, were framed so as to make great
changes in the Constitution of the University, and

384 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
to permit some also in the several Colleges. In re
spect to the former, the measures were for the most
part defined at once by Parliament ; to carry out the
latter, an Executive Commission was appointed, and
the members were named in the Bill, among these
were Sir John W. Awdry, and myself. If what "was
then done had been final, it might have sufficed to
mention generally that Keble was very much op
posed to the whole measure ; but much of what he
wrote applies itself to questions now pending, and
therefore I make some extracts from his letters.
He wrote to me on seeing the first draft of the
Bill, on February 26, 1854: —
" I suppose it will be no breach of confidence now to
speak to you of the University Reform Bill, the draft of
which was shewn to me by permission. I was regularly
scared at it, and much fear that it will make a sadder dis
ruption of parties than ever. The Constitution it enforces
will leave us (unless we are continually running up from the
Country) entirely at the mercy of the Tutors and Professors,
(the latter a completely new sort of folk to be as such an
organic part of the Body,) and there is no reason to believe
that either is not fairly represented by the present persons,
who seem to me, I must confess, rather different from the
Copelands and Rogers's and Aclands of former days, in
respect both of temper and of reverential feelings. Then
the plan is expressly Anti-Collegiate : it goes on the prin
ciple that it is actually good (ceteris paribus) to have a lot
of Students who are not alumni of some old Founder, but
disciples of Arnold, or Marriott, or Newman, or whoever he

Oxford University Reform Bill. 385
may be, as if this was not the immediate way to encourage
Party of all sorts, and as if there were not elements of good
and happiness in the Collegiate Life, which we ought to
provide as far as we can for all our Students, and as if it
would be possible, one might say fair, that system once ad
mitted, to avoid admitting Dissenters. With the Colleges
it deals rather less radically, but all through with a notion
that examinations and talent are everything, and with another
notion which I deprecate from my very heart, that natural
preferences for homes, kindred, &c, are not to be allowed
in eleemosynary endowments. I think it an indication of
a certain hard priggishness, which I fear is getting to be
characteristic of this generation. Well, here is grumbling
enough for one time, but you must not suppose that in
what I say of this Bill, I mean to be condemning the per
son, whom I suppose we must consider its author. I have
no doubt he is designing himself to do the best he can for
us. He is still to my mind ' Pusey in a blue coat.' But
the die seems to me virtually to be cast ; I believe the An
glican portion of Christendom, for the sake of doing good,
to be on the point of commencing a process not unlike
that by which the Papacy rose and throve, in its disregard
of Primitive Models, and I hope a great deal of good may
be the immediate result ; but one cannot but fear the event
on a large scale, looking to what has come of the Papacy.
Of this great movement, the University Reform is a part,
as I take it. But ohe jam satis, especially as I know that
on this subject, if I were to write for a year, I should only
make my heart and wrists ache for nothing. And so I rest,
dearest friend, ever your most aff'e, J. K."
On the 31st of March, 1854, he again wrote to me
in part on the same subject. After expressing his
C c

386 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
pleasure that Sir J. Awdry and myself were among
the Commissioners, he says : —
" I trust that, if it please God, you will be enabled to do
a good deal towards drawing the sting of it, — that a sting it
has, and a many-forked sting, I wish I could doubt; and I
certainly could not myself have been a party to it, were it
only for the needless, and, (as it seems to me,) therefore
irreverent degree of interference with Founders' Wills ; but
in this, I believe, not even Pusey agrees with me. I thought
I had got over it ; but as it was my first thought, so it has
come over me stronger' than ever. But I am not going now
to trouble you with my feelings and fancies ; if you think it
worth while you may see a specimen of them which I sent
yesterday to Heathcote ; but, indeed, I poured myself out
to you more than enough the last time I wrote. I wish I
may be very much mistaken, but the aspect of things op
presses me more almost than ever. Tliis war is to me so
horrible ; surely we ought to be most thankful for our
Lord's saying about Peace and a Sword ; else such things
would be almost too much for us."
Again, on the 24th of April, he wrote to me on
the subject of the Private Halls, which then seemed
likely to be of much importance, but from which so^
little as yet has resulted ; though it may be that more
may now arise : —
" But what I wanted now to set before you was two or
three thoughts obvious enough, yet, (as I fancied,) worth
writing down, which have occurred partly to E. B. P., and
partly to myself, in considering this plan of Private Halls.
" First of all, he thought whether it might be well to

Private Halls. 387

make a Hst beforehand of persons who are eligible to them,
(as the V. Chancellor is to make a list for the first gathering
of the new Congregation,) rather than give a vested interest
to every M.A. to the Licence. I cannot but look on this
with very great dismay ; except (which I do not think un
likely, Woodard says it wtil certainly be so,) it fall dead
to the ground for economical reasons, and I shaU be most
anxious to see what rules you the Commissioners wUl pre
scribe, or accept, to guard it. Might not one be, that no
one shall have a Hcence except he have gained such and
such distmction, unless he wUl consent to undergo an ex
amination for it. Might not the V. Ch. have a Council
assigned him, a Committee, say, of the new Hebdomadal
Board, who shaU certify in some solemn form, whenever
they grant a licence, the same kind of points as are re
quired to be certified by this Act, when a man is elected
to a Fellowship ? Might there be a kind of Si quis put
forth fpr a certain time at the meetings of the Hebdomadal
CouncU, for the chance of excluding persons positively dis
creditable ? Might it be ruled that the Licensed M.A. must
be either a Priest, or provide to the satisfaction of the Licen
sers a sufficient Chaplain to look after his pupils ? Might
not the Hcences, for a certain time, at least, be restricted
to persons associating with them a certain number of co
adjutors, such as to give security to the University, that
between them they would give their pupils a fair chance of
completing the University Course, thus forming a sort of
voluntary CoUeges, (but S  says this would not do, they
would quarrel so.) Might not some kind of pecuniary
guarantee be insisted on? I mean that a M.A. should
shew to the satisfaction of the Licensers that he has a fair
chance of success, by producing promises in writing from
respectable persons guaranteeing him in all so many pupils

388 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
to begin with ; or in any other way. Rules like these, it
seems to me, will be requisite to guard against direct
swindling, and charlataneries ; but what I most apprehend,
if the plan succeed, is a succession of A's, or V's, or W's,
or A's, or B. N's, or F. N's, each with his school or per
sonal following, unsoftened by the Collegiate feeling. What
will become of Peace and Reverence? and where will you
find any safeguard against this ? I must see whether I
can think of anything against to-morrow morning, for it
is midnight. " Well, now it is to-morrow morning, and I have been
thinking chiefly of my dreams, but a little of my being
to-day 62 years old, and how Httle I have to shew for it,
except in one way, which is not pleasant to think of.
" I hope to see May here presently, and that will be
a comfort. " As to the evil last mentioned, I suppose it must be
taken as a necessary result of ' our unhappy divisions ;'
however, I dread it exceedingly. I should think also it
would be harder to keep up discipline ; offences will much
more readily be slurred over when a man's bread depends
on the number of his pupils ; and Proctors will be thought
ill of, if they do not a little spare the father of ' six small
children,' or 'of eight marriageable engaged daughters.'
On the whole, I fear litttle Bernard has small chance of
learning the old Oxford tfdos, any more than he has of
loitering with a book under a real hedge-row of the old
English Fashion.
"I have just got your letter; many thanks. In your
notion ofthe small effect of this Bill in itself, I very much
agree ; the loss of tjBos I fear has taken place already.
" Ever your very loving, J. K'
" Surely the Private Halls do make a great opening for

Private Halls, 389

Dissenters, at least, with those who think that the Colleges
are in some sense bound by the Churchmanship of their
Founders." On the 1st of May he writes : —
" I wish I could be reassured by anything in your letter,
or in what W. E. G. said the other evening, that the direct
and necessary tendency of this Bill is not to separate Oxford
from the Church. As I understand him, one of the first
things after the Bill shall have passed, will be that the
University will be called on to consider how far ' the natural
and reasonable desires' of Dissenters to get into it may be
gratified ;' and one of the faults of the Hebdomadal Board
is their not having allowed that question to be mooted.
" I have very little doubt that we shall have to deal with
it every year till it is done, and how long then will it be
before the Colleges are thrown open also ; considering that
J. D. himself told me the other day, ' he did not care for
Founders and Benefactors ;' they were his very words.
" I can only see one way in which this measure can
amount even to a forlorn hope, that is, if there were such
a lot of people Hke Woodard and Wordsworth, &c, to oc
cupy the Private Halls, that they should even take the place
by storm, and do their work so as to defy competition ; but
what chance is there of that ?"
On the 19th of June he wrote again to me. I was
coming on the Western Circuit, and had promised to
go to Hursley in my way : —
" My dearest Friend,
"Indeed it is too true that you have not heard from me
for very long, and I wish I did not know too well whose
fault it is. Pray let us see as much as ever we can of you
when you come here. I was intending to write to ask you

390 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
this before your's came. If you could but give us a quiet
Sunday ! Such things are more and more precious every
year as we feel how little we can reckon on them. I am
sure you will do what you can for us. We are more of
a family than usual, having three of Peter Young's children,
while he is being watered at Malvern ; I hope successfully,
but I am far from being easy about him. But the youngsters
would not be at all in your way. Heathcote you know may
now see his fill of you in London 
" I very much Hke, as far as I can judge, the changes
which have been made in the Oxford Bill, only I am afraid
they will greatly increase your trouble. It is not so much
the proposed amount of change that I deprecated, as the
cool way in which Parliament was decreeing, without asking
those most concerned, that Founders' natural preferences
should go for nothing, thereby laying down the principle
which Woodgate seems to me to have unanswerably ex
posed, that endowments may be seized not only for doing
harm, but for not doing all the good they might. I con
sider that principle to be now withdrawn, and that is to me
a great gain, be the practical result what it may. Still my
quarrel with the first half of the Bill remains. I consider
myself and some 4,000 others to be unconstitutionally and
wrongfully treated in not being even consulted on so great
a thing as the whole scheme of our Corporate Government;
and that while it is expressly enacted that Convocation is
to retain its privileges. If we had been guilty of ever so
great malversation, we could not have been used worse."
Again, on July 13, he wrote : —
" My very dear Friend,
" One word for fear I should miss you by-and-by, to say
that I was not quite so simple as tb dream of shutting Dis
senters out of Oxford. I think you had not time to read

Private Halls. 391

the printed stuff I put into your hands, p. 10, else you would
not have misunderstood me. What I ask for is simply that
the restriction of a mile and a half from Carfax be taken
away, so that people may study any where, and only
come up to be examined, &c, at Oxford, and this for
aU denominations alike, even as aU alike will be free of
Oxford itself.
" I dare say this is unpractical enough, but it is not, I
think, quite so unreal as what you understood me to mean."
From time to time during the sittings of the Exe
cutive Commission he wrote to me on the subject of
Affiliated HaUs, (which he recommended to be allowed
without limitation as to distance or denomination).
and the Private Halls to be established under the
Bill. I will extract from one of these, written from
Oxford on the 14th of June, 1855, very soon after
the Statute as to Private Halls, which I believe is
still in force, had been passed. This adhered to
the originally proposed limitation as to the distance
from Carfax, within which alone the Hall could be
opened; and modified, but not in Keble's opinion
sufficiently, that which prescribed within what period
before fhe grant of a Licence, the Head must have
been resident within the University. These limita
tions he would have wholly done away with.
The letter is interesting on several accounts : —
" Dearest Coleridge,
" I have been looking at the Statute for Private HaUs,
which I understood is now before you the Commissioners,

392 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
and I have been a Httle dismayed at finding that nobody
may open a Hall unless he has been lately resident at Ox
ford. This entirely spoils a favourite dream of mine, that
such as Wilson, (e.g.) might make a lodgment in Oxford
under cover of the new system, and do something to coun
teract the terrible secular spirit which has come overthe:
place, naturally enough by the re-action consequent on
Newman's secession, and other such things. You see the
present Tutorial Body in Oxford, (I don't mean to dispar
age them, it was but to be expected in their position,) are
just of that Academical Generation which was most likely
to be influenced in that way. The old Country Stagers
were too well settled beforehand, and I hope their children
after them will prove to be the same ; but there is no doubt/;.
from all I can hear, that the religious tone of the Common.
Rooms just now is very much gone down from the level of
Copeland, Rogers, Tom Morris, &c, and I cannot but think
that an opening for such as I am thinking of is very desir
able. The obvious way would be to strike out the limitation
about time, and leave those who recommend to state what
quantity of experience their protege's have, as well as how
they stand in other respects. And the Candidates might
be invited to bring the best testimonials they could from
any quarter, as when Rugby or Winchester School is
vacant; and the Hebdomadal Council might judge of
them, or appoint a Committee to judge, provided always-
the Committee were impartially constituted, in which last
clause I apprehend the difficulty would lie, but we must
trust somebody.
" Perhaps I have no business to write to you on, this
matter, if so, just put me in the fire.
" I am here for two days for Bp. Wilson, but go home
to-morrow."

Oxford University Reform. 393
I have brought these letters together for the gene
ral, and as to some of them the present, importance
of the subjects on which they are written. The
strong inclination of Keble's mind was obviously to
preserve Oxford so far, at least, as regarded Resident
Students, to members of the Established Church ;
though he would have conceded the Oxford Exami
nations at Oxford, and of course the honours, with I
presume the Bachelor's degree, to Nonconformists of
every denomination ; he would have had much more
regard paid to the intentions of founders than would
be satisfactory to the Reformers ; and he clung with
the greatest earnestness to the revival and preserva
tion in full force of what he called the Oxford r\Qo<i,
which he considered to be of infinite value, and to be
dying out in the new state of feeling there.
These three points are of present and abiding im
portance ; on all of them Keble's opinions would be
considered perhaps by many persons as now out of
date ; but in order to judge of them fairly, we must
transport ourselves to the time when they were
given, and remember the general object which he
set before his own mind. The doctrine of the Na
tionality of the Universities, because their property
was the gift of the nation, and their establishment
the act of the State, was at that time little heard
of; and when stated, rather assumed than proved.
I do not mean now to controvert it; and it is per
haps hardly a practical question how far as a whole

394 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
it could be historically proved ; but conceding this, if
one thought that the State was about so to exercise
its right of interference as to impair the gift which it
had already made, it would be neither inconsistent,
nor narrow-minded, to oppose such exercise. Look
ing at the interests of the classes which were actually
in an ancient and undisturbed possession, it seems to
me even now very questionable, whether their place
of education, and their education, may not suffer
unnecessarily and seriously by the measures which
have been adopted since the Oxford Reform com
menced. The engrafting of the Collegiate system
on the University teaching used to be considered
.a circumstance advantageously distinguishing Ox
ford and Cambridge from all other Universities. I
am not prepared to abandon that notion, and if this
distinction could have been preserved, with a due
regard to the claims of Nonconformists, no Oxford
man could be blamed, I think, or considered illi
beral, for endeavouring to accomplish it. The scheme
of Private Halls may be said to have failed ; it was
a concession, perhaps a necessary one, to the feeling
of the day, but it had the seeds of its failure inherent
in it ; all the Colleges and PubHc Halls were not, and
I believe are not even now full, and the Private Halls
presented no advantage which might not have been
had in greater degree in one of them. At the end of
thirteen years but two appear to exist, which contain
together eighteen Students in all, a number which

Oxford University Reform. 395
might certainly have been conveniently provided for
without their establishment. The scheme now started
of simple teaching apart from the Collegiate life, I
fear may result in a similar failure, although it pre
sents the temptation of economy ; unless it be sup
plemented by something, which it does not and could
not promise, and the happening of which, however
probable, is still precarious and uncertain. I mean
some such event as that which Keble desired, the
devotion of themselves by some marked and gifted
men to the tuition of the Non-ascripti. It does not
seem safe in regard to this to rely on the ordinary
rule of demand creating supply ; here the supply
should in some sort precede the demand ; and it
must be remembered that the Colleges must be ex
pected to present commonly much greater tempta
tions to eminent men to become Tutors, than the
class of pupils we are now speaking of.
But waiving these difficulties, it seems to me that
this plan, (and Keble's no less,) has been framed in
forgetfulness of that which is essential to satisfy the
claims both of Churchmen who require more eco
nomy, and of Nonconformists who seek admission to
University education; it may, and I hope it will,
conduce to the teaching a greater number of per
sons the languages and science, and may give to
more of our youth some of the benefits resulting
from University Honours and Degrees. And I do
not desire to undervalue this advantage. But we de-

396 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
ceive ourselves, if we suppose that these gains will
satisfy the reasonable desires of parents. Quite apart
from these, however valuable, there is and there
ought to be, even in the minds of those who neither
expect nor desire for their sons Scholarships, or Fel
lowships, a strong desire to give them the benefit of
a Collegiate education ; it is the College Flail and
Common Room, the College Tutor's classes, not too
large to become the seed plots of friendships, the
College society and associations, which they know
tend to introduce their sons, free from all invidious
distinctions, into full membership in the best Eng
lish society. Their feeling is our own ; what is it now
which we look back upon with the most affectionate
feeling and innocent pride ? not so much the Univer
sity as our College ; not merely to our having been
First Class men, or having won this or that Univer
sity prize, but to having been fellow-pupils with such
and such men of this or that Tutor at Balliol, or
Corpus, or New College, or elsewhere; or perhaps,
with some of us, even fellow-oarsmen in this or that
College boat ; it is the College which creates habits,
which forms or cements friendships, which stamps
indelible memories and associations. It may be a
melancholy conclusion, and involve some serious; con
sequences, (I hope none so serious as excellent men,
and Dr. Pusey among them, foretel,) but I am con
vinced, that if changes are to be made with a view of
satisfying those who are now without, nothing short

Oxford University Reform. 397
of a full and free admission to the College will have
that effect with the most influential of the claimants.
If they know what they seek, and I doubt not they
do, they will accept nothing short of this.
But suppose my conviction to be ill-founded, and
also that the new measure should be well accepted,
and lead to a large influx of young men of all deno
minations, it is surely matter of grave consideration
how far the order, and discipline, and internal har
mony of the University can be securely maintained
with so large a body, consisting of young men of pre
vious habits so different, and so prone in themselves
to give and take offence. It is mere folly to suppose
that a machinery by which, or an area in which, a
thousand or twelve hundred Students may work well
together, will have strength or space for the number
indefinitely increased; and it is much to be feared
that irreparable injury may be done to those who
now occupy the ground, without conferring the de
sired benefits on the new comers. The change, it
must also be remembered, is not a mere change of
numbers ; besides many differences in themselves,
the new comers will not be under the same favour
able circumstances for discipline as those under which
the Undergraduates are now placed.
One evil which Keble, it has been seen, estimated
as very grave, the loss of the old Oxford fjdos, it
would be scarcely fair to attribute to anything done
under the Oxford Reform Statute ; for he speaks of

398 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
it as having already happened when he wrote, and
attributes it to another cause. Some of my readers
may ask what Keble meant by the quality which he
so much valued, and called by a Greek name. The
familiarity of Students of our Oxford days with
some, at least, of the treatises of Aristotle, and es
pecially with the Ethics, and the remarkable ex
pressiveness of his diction, occasioned the frequent
use among ourselves of his terms ; they were ever
in the mouths of Keble and Arnold in conversa
tion or correspondence. I dare say the same re
mark might be true now. This was one of those
terms. It is a somewhat remarkable one. The
same it is which denotes custom, or usage gene
rally, differing only in this, that the first letter is
then pronounced short, and is either doubled or
pronounced long when it denotes, at least in Aris
totle's mouth, not a custom, or usage generally, but
one that is moral a. With Keble it imported certainly
no intellectual quality, scarcely even any distinct
moral one, but an habitual toning, or general colour
ing diffused over all a man's moral qualities, giving
the exercise of them a peculiar gentleness and grace ;
it was not that the Oxford lad was more dutiful,
more brave, more truthful, more punctual in his re
ligious duties than any other, but that these quali
ties were habitually exercised by him with more of
* oBev Kal Taivopa iayrfiK fxiKphv irapeKK\ivov ctirl rod llovs. Eth.
B. ii. cap. 1.

Oxford University Reform. 399
deference, and reverence towards his elders, more
gentleness and loving-kindness to all.
Few will dispute that this fjdos, especially in youth,
may be of great value. Keble certainly would have
sacrificed a great deal of that which was more showy,
and more likely to advance a young man in the world,
to preserve it. I hope his notions about it are not
entirely out of fashion in the present day, and I
think it would be, and would denote, a great evil, if
any constitutional or administrative reform should be
found to throw a blight on this grace at Oxford.
With regard to the respect due to the wills and in
tentions of Founders, a question of great importance,
and very general application for the future, as well
as the present, I do not think the Commissioners dif
fered so much from Keble in the principle, as in the
application of it to particular cases ; they no more
than he, would have assented to the doctrine that
no respect was due to them. This may be a tenable
doctrine in a jurist's mouth, founded on the nature of
property generally, and, in England specially, on the
statutable and judicial restraints on the disposition
of it ; but when all that is said and allowed, it is still
a doctrine which is shocking not merely to ignorance
and prejudice, but to the most generous and reve
rential feelings of our nature. I say nothing of the
impolicy of it. On the other hand, to maintain that
the intentions of Founders should for all time be con
sidered in all respects sacred and inviolable, is neither

400 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
reasonable, nor in a true sense deferential to them.
It was the duty, I conceive, of the Commissioners, so
far as they could, to place themselves in the position
of the Founders, to give them credit for wisdom, en
lightenment, and justice ; and, so far as they could,
to ordain, as it might be believed they would have
ordained under the altered circumstances ; doing
away absolutely what had become useless or mis
chievous, or impracticable, and advancing the ori
ginal design in what ' was good in spirit, but nar
row, or impeded in execution ; changing nothing
wantonly, but not staggering at the mere great
ness of any change, if it fell within this principle.
I think they acted according to this ; they may
have erred, they probably did err sometimes; but
I do not think they were actuated by a spirit which
Keble would on consideration have disapproved of.
It would be disingenuous, as well as foolish, to
deny that a difficulty will probably be experienced
in conducting the teaching of classes composed of
pupils of different denominations ; or that a danger
may exist when the tutors of a college, either simul
taneously, or in succession, should be themselves of
different persuasions. Wholly to overcome this seems
to me impossible. I remember Arnold telling me that
he should fear no difficulty, if he were Regius Pro
fessor of Divinity, in lecturing, Greek Testament in
hand, a class of pupils of all denominations. I will only
say he was no common man ; but yet he never had

Oxford University Reform. 40 1
to make the experiment ; moreover a Divinity class at
the University naturally implies one of which the far
greater part consists of those who are being prepared
for Holy Orders, and therefore presumably members
of the Church. If, however, it be part of the duty of
such a Professor to expose heresies, and shew how
they are to be guarded against ; or to explain and
confirm our Ecclesiastical Polity, ordinary men would
find it difficult, I think, if not impossible, to conduct
their lectures so peaceably and so effectively as my
dear friend anticipated.
But what cannot be denied to exist may yet be
much diminished in extent ; ability and good sense,
a conciliatory temper, with a spirit at once liberal
and firm, that manifestly pursues the truth yet with
consideration, and a large charity, will do much.
The Church of England would begin with great ad
vantages, and it is fair to presume that Heads of
Houses would appoint College Tutors with a due
regard to the circumstances. And after all it has
with justice been asked, Have you security now
against the evils you foretel? unless some Colleges
are much belied, you have not. Many a thoughtful
and conscientious parent, I believe, now exposes his
son to the lectures and influence of tutors whose
religious opinions he condemns, on account of their
ability, their industry, or their moral influence for
good. And so, I apprehend, would it be found with
not a few Nonconformist parents ; as in the National
Dd

402 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Schools, the good master in a Church school at
tracts the Dissenters' children of every denomina
tion ; so at Oxford, I apprehend, the Tutor, de
servedly popular on general grounds, will draw to-
his College, and influence, it may be, with his special
teaching, young men who have been brought up in
opinions very much differing from his own; giving
them, for a time, at least, his own bias, but not al
ways settling them into a faith different from that in
which they were nursed, nor yet leading them "to
care for none of these things;" but making them
more truly liberal ; by shewing them how much of
goodness and truth there exists among those who
hold that which they with some exaggeration as to
the fact have been accustomed to regard as mere
freethinking on the one hand, or as superstition or
priestcraft on the other. If it be said that these
are but vague and hypothetical answers to distinct
denunciations of evil, it must be remembered that
they are not the whole answer ; they are addressed
rather to deprecate exaggeration and heat ; to sug
gest that in matters such as these the strictly logical
deduction from the premises is not always found in
practice the true one ; other unregarded considera
tions often intervening to qualify the conclusion;
and let me add, to warn excellent and earnest men
against the embitterment which flows from unavail
ing opposition to the inevitable.
I hope I may be forgiven, considering my per-

Oxford University Reform. 403
sonal interest, not only for these last remarks, but
for having dwelt at so much length on the Oxford
Reform past, and that now impending, or on its trial.
If I have expressed my fears and doubts as to the
great measure recently determined on, I must not
be supposed to condemn the authors, or to speak
with unbecoming confidence. It would be unnatural
in me not to feel the most intense interest in the
future welfare of Oxford. All should agree that we
must consider the Oxford that is, as well as the Ox
ford that is to be ; for myself, I would have sought
to give an access to those who have hitherto not had
it, free, as nearly as possible in the spirit of the old
University, Collegiate, and capable of gradually open
ing more widely to meet what may be expected to
be a gradually increasing demand. I should have
thought this might be done by Colleges founding
Halls, in subordination to themselves, supplied with
Principals and Tutors of their appointment from
among their own Fellows, and conducted on a strictly
domestic and economical principle. Keble College,
I may say in a parenthesis, though necessarily in
some degree exceptional, yet seems to me, speaking-
reverently, to have been providentially founded at
this very time. What is demanded for Noncon
formists is, at least, an equally just matter of claim
for Churchmen, who may desire to secure for their
children not merely an economical education, but
one framed strictly on Church principles. It is well

404 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
at such a time that a College should exist, to which
Whoever resorts, (and I hope that access will be re
fused to none on account of difference in religious
principles,) will enter with notice that there, at least,
the teaching he will receive will be that of the
Church of England, as Keble understood and sub*
scribed to it.
Upon much consideration I would have everything
in the Colleges, of profit as well as honour, that is
now to be gained after competitive examination,
open to all the Students in these Halls ; to this as
a conclusion necessary, and under the over-ruling
providence of God not a hurtful one, I have come
by slow steps, not very willingly taken. I fear in
this Keble and I should have differed ; but I would
have said to him, what I say now to some of his
dearest friends, (one especially of whom it would
be difficult to say whether Keble more loved, or ho
noured him, and whom he used to characterize as the
most hopeful of men,) recognize an inevitable neces
sity, not the less inevitable because you may strug
gle against it with partial success once and again ;
make a virtue of the necessity ; seek to guard your
concession with all such conditions as may in your
opinion make it most salutary for the future; but
remember that England is no longer what she was
when our colleges were founded, that her population
is not more increased in numbers than in wealth, and
in, at least, a certain and improveable kind of educa*

Oxford University Reform. 405

tion and refinement ; in upward aspirations, to be
guided rather than checked ; and that the desire for
academical training it is almost unnatural for the
Universities to oppose ; that, consequently, they who
now besiege your citadel have at the very least a
plausible ground of right ; that their claim, if it be
indeed rightful, should and can only be satisfied by
full and frank concession, concession worthy of your
selves ; that it is a case in which you give nothing,
if you give less than all ; that it is far better that
those who press on you should enter by the gates,
than through a breach, and that it is far more
Christian-like, and therefore far more politic, to ad
mit them as brothers, than as conquerors.
Kal vvv eaaov, fir/Ei aoi fieXnjadro}.
irdvTas yap ov ireiaeis viv ov <yap ev-iriOijs'
iraiTTaive S' avrbs, p,r\ Tt irt^fiavdys <38(3.
From. Vinct. 332.

CHAPTER XVII.
1854, BISHOP OF NEW ZEALAND AT HURSLEY.—
FRANCIS GEORGE COLERIDGE'S DEATH.— VISIT TO
THE WEST. — THE VINEYARD AND DARTINGTON
RECTORY. — ARCHDEACON WILBERFORCE. — SER
VICE FOR EMIGRANTS. — NORTH OF DEVON— PRO
FESSOR REED. — DECISION OF THE DENISON CASE.
— TOUR IN NORTH WALES. — ARGUMENT ON THE
DIVORCE BILL. — DEPARTURE OF MR. YOUNG AND
FAMILY. — 1857, TOUR IN SWITZERLAND.— -EUCHA-
RISTICAL ADORATION.
IT is high time that I should return to my narra
tive, which I have interrupted too long by re
marks of my own ; although on a subject which
seems to be but a part of that which, it has been
seen, awakened the liveliest interest in Keble's mind.
As regarded his own little circle, and his parish, the
year 1854 was gliding peaceably away. The Wil
sons were seeking health principally on Mrs. Wilson's
account on the Continent, and I' have lying before
me a long letter from Keble to them, the greater
part of which is full of parish details; He had used
to receive such letters from Mr. Wilson when he was
himself away, and now he communicated to him

Letter to Mr. Wilson. 407
abroad the same kind of details. He could tell him
everything material as to Ampfield, and he knew
that Mr. Wilson continued to feel a strong interest in
all that related to Hursley.
I will transcribe parts of this letter, which give
a lively picture of Keble in his parochial ministra
tions : — "H. V., begun 2" June, 1854."
" My most dear friends,
" You wiU not have wondered, but you may weU be ' put
out,' at not having heard from me so long after so very wel
come a letter as you sent me. But you wiU bear it as you
have so many things. The chief matter that we have been
thinking of lately has been poor Holmes. You wiU have
heard aU particulars from Lady H. Very little passed be
tween her and me that could be specified; indeed, from
the first time I saw her, she was too UI to say much ; but
aU was resigned, and peaceful, and warm-hearted. She
asked to have the H. C. every Monday, and received it
3 times ; the first time Charlotte was there ; the last, the
whole body Of the Nurses, her Sister, Mrs. C, Mrs. S., and
the other servant who was so much with her; she could
not then speak at all, but was entirely conscious, and par
ticularly soothed by the Commendatory Service, which I
read to her from the Visitatio Infirmorum. There was
something she tried to say, but we could none of us make
it out; I begged her not to distress herself on that ac
count, and from her countenance I don't think she did.
She was buried at Ampfield this morning, raiher near to
the Grave we aU think of, though not so near as Lady H.
wished ; however, I hope it will have been all right. I love

408 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
to think of her, and of Lady H., and the groupe of Park
Servants waiting on her.
" Peter Young wrote very cheerfully of himself the other
day, and talked of being home in three weeks, I am thank
ful to say. I believe he is much better, but I don't expect
him to be well enough for work for a good while, and I am
much afraid of his worrying himself ill again. We have the
two girls and little Edward with us, and a great splotch of
sunshine they make in -the house, especially the boy; and
you would be amused by Jemmy's funny consequential
ways, when he comes here on leave-out days. I hope and
trust he is doing well in material points. I wish you could
be at home at one or twb things that are coming on, as the
Christening of this 15th Moberly, who, some say, may per
haps be called Cyril; the Bp. of New Zealand in our
School-Room on Friday next, with Mrs. Selwyn, and, I
hope, Johnny.
" This place, I am sorry to say, distresses me almost
more than ever; there is something very very bad going
on among the young people, and I cannot fathom it, any
more than Bessy can why people are ever naughty; a ques
tion she asked to-day at breakfast.
" As to public matters, I will not say anything, they are
got beyond me. I am sure people mean what is right, but
somehow it has got strangely blended with what one has
been used to think very wrong. One thing I fancy I dis
cern, that the Puritan Party is getting on amazingly.- I
fully expect that before long Oxford will be thrown open
to all but R. C's.
" And so with dear love to you, Maria, Mary, or Miriam,
and to both the youngsters, I am always yours, J. K."
The person whose illness, death, and burial, he

Bishop of New Zealand at Hursky. 409

speaks of in this letter, had been a faithful and fa
vourite servant in the Trench family, and, among
other services, had tenderly nursed a sister of Mrs.
Wilson through her last illness. It is the grave of
this lady in Ampfield Churchyard, of which Keble
speaks, near to which it had been desired that
the servant should be laid. In her illness, when it
became serious, Lady Heathcote had brought her to
Hursley Park, where she died; which explains the
incidents he describes so simply and feelingly.
It was on the whole a tranquil time for Keble, or
rather, I should say, no external anxieties prevented
him from cheerful family meetings or parochial cele
brations. The visit which he speaks of as antici
pating from the Bishop of New Zealand to his
school-room, took place, and Johnny, who was a
great favourite of his, was of the party.
My extracts take me sometimes far back into the
lives of those who are now, it may be, filling their
own responsible places in their professions ; but I
do not like to cut out these little notices, and I
trust not to give offence to the Jemmy and Johnny
who find themselves here introduced as children.
It was a common practice with Keble, whenever
he could, to procure for his school children, and
any of the parishioners who might like to assemble,
the entertainment and instruction which a Colonial
Bishop, a missionary, or a traveller, might be willing
to afford them by some account of what he had

410 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
seen, or done, or suffered in foreign lands, and by
a description of the people or the country. Those
who have the honour of being acquainted with the
Bishop of New Zealand, especially those who may
have seen him with children in a school-room, and
witnessed his wonderful gifts, I may call them, of
adaptation and illustration, of rendering things un
known before easy of comprehension and interesting
to his audience, will understand what instruction and
amusement Keble probably procured on this occa
sion for the young and uneducated of his flock.
Nor for them only. He himself was among those
who, perhaps, were as much delighted as the chil
dren and villagers ; and perhaps also in some mat
ters not less instructed. He had talk of course with
him besides on higher subjects, and, it will be seen
by a letter which I will not withhold from my readers,
he did not in all points agree with him. Before they
read it, however, I desire that they should consider
that, in 1854, the Bishop's large plans for the con
stituting the Church in New Zealand were scarcely
matured, and only partially tried in practice, and that
in some respects they departed from the primitive
models, to which Keble had always looked up duti
fully and reverently ; he might, therefore, be well
allowed to doubt of their wisdom without diminu
tion of his high esteem for the man. I do not think
that it is to be inferred at all from anything he writes,
that were he now alive, and had seen the working of

Bishop of New Zealand at Hursley. 411
the constitution in New Zealand, or could now see
the partial adaptation of it, which the same great
man is attempting in his present diocese in Eng
land, he would have found any ground for differing
with him. One or two matters there are in which I
fear, unless he misunderstood the Bishop, he would
have still differed, and many wm think, not without
justification It is no disparagement of Bishop Sel
wyn to say that Keble knew more of the character
and dangers, in England at least, of Romanism on
the one hand, and Rationalism on the other, espe
cially that he knew more of the working of either
spirit in the Universities, at least in Oxford. It
was not that he thought too lightly of the former ;
nor did he doubt that there was ground for appre
hension ; but he believed with the strongest convic
tion that the issue of the latter in Oxford might be
infidelity; and he thought, (and what unprejudiced
believer can doubt that he was right?) that honest
secessions to Rome were but slight evils, however
great in themselves, in comparison with fallings off
to infidelity. I say nothing here of what is called
Ritualism ; at the time I am now writing about, it
was so entirely in its infancy as to attract little
attention. I say the less on the subject of what
Keble calls the Bishop's Protestantisms; my read
ers will know what Keble's convictions early and
late were in regard to this matter, how uncatholic
he thought Dissent, direct or indirect, and we do

412 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
not know to what expressions of the Bishop he is
alluding. The following letter to Dyson, on the 7th of July,
1854, I desire to be read with reference to these re
marks ; it may be thought they have been too long,
but I have not the gift of expressing myself shortly,
and I should be very much distressed, if for want
of some such introduction, I gave pain by publish
ing it : —
" When is the great Bishop coming to you ? for I am
very desirous of having a finger in that pie ; so you must
not wonder if I should happen to drop in at the time, and
I shall make sure of getting a bed somewhere within reach,
L have an extreme desire to hear you questioning, and him
answering. I am afraid though I must confess, (will your
sister forgive me ?) that my courage has a little cooled as
to going along with him, since he was here. Impossible as
it is not to admire and love him, he makes me shiver 'now
and then with his Protestantisms, crying up the Ch. Miss.
Society, abusing Becket at St. Augustine's as ' a haughty
Prelate,' and encouraging in his tendencies the same way.
I am told his Ordination Sermon at Cuddesdon was alto
gether Anti-Roman, as if there were no other evil spirit
than Popery now possessing Oxford. It is very horrid to
find any fault, but I tell you all this, that you may order
your logic as you think best with him. Well, this is cross
ness enough for one time."
I have little doubt that much passed at the meet
ing which would have been well worth listening to,
and nothing which disturbed the kindly feeling be-

Francis George Coleridge's Death. 413
tween the two. In the following month he had the
great pleasure of family visitors at home.
" We have had a gathering," says he, writing to me on
the 25th of August, "for which we ought to be very thank
ful ; both Bisley and Vineyard have been here, and it was
a thorough family fortnight, only too pleasant. Peter Young
is home again, much mended, but still in a delicate state.
However, we hve in hopes of returning our family visits
before winter ; and if we can, won't we come to Heath's
Court for a short visit, at least ? we shall not need pressing
if we can manage it"
In this letter he expresses a hope that a dear bro
ther of mine, of whom he was very fond, might be
recovering from an illness under which he was then
lying ; but it pleased God to release him on the very
day after his letter was written, and on the 29th he
wrote to me again : —
" My dearest Coleridge,
" I did not somehow expect the account you sent me,
and it is a sad thmg to me to think of, that I Ungered so
long in writing. And so he is gone without a kind word
from me, so kind and loving as he always was to me. May
it please God to soften the blow to you and aU the rest, and
to make it rather medicinal than otherwise. ... It is com
forting, and yet alarming, to see so many of one's own
standing go, and all seeming so much more ready than one
feels oneself to be. Only think, it is 41 years since I first
knew your kind brother, and I wish I may not have been
going down hill rather than up. God help us to pray for

414 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
ourselves, and for one another. With affectionate love to
you all, I am always, dearest friend, most truly yours, J. K."
I do not mention my brother's death, and cite
these passages merely because they relate to my
self, but Keble's love for him was characteristic of
himself. My brother was a man leading a perfectly
retired and quiet life, free from ambition for him
self, but rejoicing in the success of those he loved ;
pursuing steadily an humble vocation, that of an
attorney ; and finding his graver pleasures in doing
acts of kindness, his lighter in his garden, his books,
and the antiquarian researches which our interesting
old Church favoured ; this was the sort of man in
whom Keble delighted ; he sought out not the man of
talents or learning, so much as the good, and gentle,
and loveable.
He began to make his summer excursion in Sep
tember, 1854, and I heard from him dating from the
Vineyard, where the Champernownes resided, between
Totness and Dartington, proposing to come to us in
his way home ; but he was then anticipating an event
as near, which he had been dreading for some time,
the secession of Archdeacon Wilberforce to the Church
of Rome. From extracts which I have made in for
mer letters, it will have been seen how much he loved
and respected his old pupil, and what a specially bit
ter sorrow. the loss of him was to him : —
" God grant," says he, " that those who are near and dear

Letter from the Vineyard. 415-
to one another may keep more together than they have
done of late.
" Tliis Archdeacon, (he is speaking of the late Arch
deacon Froude, who was stiU flourishing in a green old age
at the Rectory at Dartington,) is very refreshing to see."
He wrote also to Mr. Wilson from the Vineyard on
the 1 8th of September : —
" It is very pleasant being here, and seeing a newspaper
only once or twice a-week, and walking among real Uve
hedges, with no thought of grubbing, and paring, and burn
ing, and wattle-hurdles along each side of the road. And
this Archdeacon is quite as he used to be, except old age,
wonderfuUy strong in voice ; and the memory of R. H. F.
is very fragrant. We go to Ottery for a few days on Friday,.
and mean to make our way to Bisley, perhaps by the North
of Devon, so that on the whole I expect to be 3 Sundays
away from home ; but we have the comfort of hearing that
Peter is improving in our absence. I hope to go to Ox
ford, among other things, to put the Sacra Privata to the
press. Poor dear R. W., I own I was surprised at last ; for
tlie last report I had heard was an improved one, and
I had heard nothing for a long time  I dare say your
account of it is the right one ; but it disappoints and mor
tifies one to see one, who used to be so truthful and candid,
lending himself at once to the violent contradictions of fact^
and petitiones principii, which are quite necessary to every
part almost of the Roman Theory. I wish I could com
pose, and write on it, it would be a sort of relief. In
theory, I think, his position of Lay Communion is tenable,
at least, I wish to think so ; for at the rate men are getting
on, no one can say how soon he may himself be reduced

416 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
to it. But I do not in the least expect that R. W. will have
patience for it. I hear he is very miserable ; from himself
I have only had one short and kind note. ....
" I am in correspondence with Rogers about a service for
Emigrants on their voyage ; a very pleasant work, if one had
nothing else to do. And the other day I saw Bp. Words-
Worth and his really beautiful family of children. I can
not tell you how kind he was, and how I admired his quiet
cheerful way of alluding to his own difficulties. Well, now
I must say good bye, with our dear love to you all; and' in
hope of knowing more than ;I do about the Simplon be
fore long. I am always yours most lovingly, J. K."
They came to us on the 24th, and left us on the
26th ; too short a visit, but a very pleasant one ;
saddened only by our talk about the secession I have
just mentioned, and by his apprehension for the con
sequences. We went together to see Mrs. George
Cornish ; it was a great pleasure to him to see her,
as she was, residing in the house where he had once
been so familiar, with her large family; and bravely,
yet not ostentatiously, bearing up against the sor
rows that had befallen her.
They left us for the North of Devon, and intending
by that route to go into Gloucestershire to Bisley.
It must have been a great pleasure to him once more
after the long interval to re-visit again the romantic
country, which had so delighted him when young.
But I did not hear from him until November, on the
6th of which month he wrote to me from Hursley :—

Letter from Hursley. 417

" Dearest Friend,
" It really seems quite unnatural when I think of it, to
have been so long without thanking you for all your affec
tionate love and care of us. God reward you for it, and
yours also, both of Heath's Court, of the Manor House,
and of Feniton. I would not but have paid that visit to
Ottery for a very great deal. And our Circuit was alto
gether prosperous. We met the girls at Exeter, shot across
to Barnstaple, staid two days at Linton, and one at Stinch-
combe, and over two Sundays at Bisley, paying a visit from
thence to Fairford, and Coin, and Cirencester ; and we also
saw something of Bussage. So that on the whole it was
a complete Family Tour, and very comfortable it was
in every way; the 'cumulus' being 'imposed' upon it by
young Tom, his wife, and Babe, coming here for three
weeks ; they only left us on Friday last ; and I am only
afraid we are too proud of them. But it is a wholesome
check that my nephew makes one ashamed of oneself;
however, I will not talk about that. I hope your visit from
Worcestershire was a great joy, and that dear Frank's family
are going on as comfortably as circumstances allow. John
told me, what I was most deeply grieved at, the loss of our
kind friends in the ' Arctic,' and how much you felt it. In
deed, I suppose it must be looked upon as a public ca
lamity ; for probably there are few such as Professor Reed
left in the United States. But the comfort in thinking of
such as he (no doubt) was, is solid and growing, — not so
the thought of poor dear R. W., whose departure touches
me almost more nearly than any one's ; except, perhaps, that
of Newman himself. I did not until very lately think that
he would ieally go there. I thought he was too good-
tempered, besides his learning and truthfulness. But he
had got into an Utopian dream, and rather than give it
E e

4i 8 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
up, he shut his eyes and made a jump, and now he must,.
and I suppose will, keep his eyes shut all his life long."
A word or two it seems fitting to add by way of
comment on these extracts. I think it is not the
first time that Keble had given utterance to his feel
ings about the grubbing, and paring, which he con
nected with high-farming ; it was really a passion
with him, his love for coppices, hedge-rows, and wild-
flowers ; a few years before he had expressed it im
the beautiful " Round Robin," which he drew up for
Anemone Nemorosa, Primula Vulgaris, and others1
of the same family, which will be found in his poems,
addressed to the Lord of the Manor of Merdon. It
is dated from Ladwell Hill, where he often lingered
in his parish visitings, and soothed his mind under1
parish troubles, • and other causes of distress, gazing
on the poor petitioners, who were, as he feared, now
doomed to give way to the plough : —
" To himself we've heard him say,
' Thanks that I may hither stray ;
Worn with age, and sin, and care,
Here to breathe the pure glad air,
Here Faith's lesson learn anew,
Of this happy vernal crew ;
Here the fragrant shrubs around,
And the graceful shadowy ground,
And the village tones afar,
And the steeple with its star,
And the clouds that gently move,
Tune the heart to trust and love.' "

Service for Emigrants. 419
Ladwell Hill, I hope, will for many generations be
sacred to the memory of John Keble ; I am sure it
will be so, as long as the present Lord of the Manor
lives. It is a pity perhaps to disturb the feeling
which the poem cannot fail to create ; but in justice
to the " Giant High Farming," (as I am told on the
best authority,) it must be said that he had nothing
to do with what was contemplated, or done in regard
to the hedge-rows. Dear as they were to the Peti
tioners and to the Poet, they were obnoxious to an
other Rural Deity scarcely less powerful than the
Giant, with whom also the Poet was on very good
terms, by name Landscape Gardening. She desired
to let into view from the Park, the meadows, across
which the hedge-rows ran, and which they concealed.
The irregular forms of these meadows also, when laid
open to view, made picturesque breaks in what had
before seemed a continuous line of wood ; this sur
mounted the whole scene, and the breaks in it pro
duced a much more graceful effect. So much, not
too much I hope for the sake of accuracy, even in
a little matter.
Keble speaks of Sir Frederic Rogers's application
to him respecting • a Service for Emigrants during
their voyage. Sir Frederic was at that time one of
the Emigration Commissioners ; he appealed on be
half of a very interesting portion of our fellow-
subjects, and in respect of one of their pressing
wants. This was just a matter which Keble would

420 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
delight to be employed in, and the result, without
waiting until he had nothing else to do, was a very
nicely arranged service with three really beautiful
hymns: I am afraid that although the service is
still printed and distributed to the emigrants, the
hymns, for what reason I know not, are omitted;
they will be found, however, in the forthcoming
volume of his poems.
He speaks also with true feeling, and renders no
more than a just tribute to the memory of Henry
Reed, Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature
in the University of Pennsylvania. It has been my
good fortune to know and to have received as my
guests several citizens of the United States, espe
cially from Pennsylvania ; and I have the great honour
to count among my friends, only through the medium
of a long and intimate correspondence, (for we have
never met,) that wise and loving-hearted old man,
Horace Binney, the great citizen of Philadelphia.
Taken as samples, these shew me what rare and
gifted men are to be found in the great Republic.
Henry Reed it was impossible to know without
loving him ; he came with his sister-in-law, Miss
Brownson, from a great distance to bid us farewell
immediately before their return to America; and
they came just at the time of my brother's death.
They heard of this event only when within a few
miles of my house, and though they still came on,
it was only to shake hands with us ; we could not

Professor Reed of Pennsylvania. 42 1
induce them to stay. I remember that we walked
on my little terrace until the light failed. Miss
Brownson, who was as a mother to his children,
visited my grandchildren in their beds ; for both
were full of his own treasures at home, and she
wished to describe an English nursery to them ; and
so we parted, he promising to bring his wife to visit
us the next summer. He then went to Rydal to
bid farewell to Mrs. Wordsworth, and in a few days
wrote to me shortly from Liverpool. The next thing
I heard of him was his death in the miserable col
lision of the "Arctic" steamer with a French vessel.
He and his sister, it is said, were seen sitting to
gether hand locked in hand, silent and tranquil,
calmly awaiting their fate, but a few minutes be
fore the ship went down with nearly all the pas
sengers, who had been left on board, and, as it is
said, left shamefully on board, by a cowardly com
mander and crew, escaping themselves in safety a.
" My friend, Mr. Binney, writing to me in respect of this narrative,
makes this comment, which I gladly insert, and must express my
sincere regret for any injustice of which I may have been guilty : —
"There is a single word in your reference to Capt. Luce, and the
' Arctic,' which does not precisely exhibit our version of his part in
that most deplorable case. The account, you must have had in Eng
land, is not ours ; which my son informs me is in that part more
accurate. Capt. Luce behaved ill in the first stage of the collision.
He did not maintain his command of the crew, and resist, as he ought
to have done to death if necessary, the cowardly seizure of the principal
boat by the crew, and their desertion of the ship. Luce, however,
said that he would not leave the ship, and would not permit his young
son to get to the boat, though the crew offered to take him. He and

422 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
I trust to be forgiven this passing mention of my
friend, but the way in which Keble speaks of him
reminds me of the American feeling towards him
self. The circulation of the " Christian Year" in the
United States has fallen little short of that which
it has had here. Again and again my American
friends, and sometimes even strangers, have sought
for an introduction from me to him. I remember
well a gentleman, one of the former, the son indeed
to whom Mr. Binney alludes in the note below, with
whom I visited Hursley Park. In the morning we
walked down to the Service, and when it was over,
we had a long talk with Keble. At the close, and as
we were taking leave at the Vicarage porch, which
is covered with ivy, my friend drew me apart, and
asked me if I thought Mr. Keble would take it
amiss, if he begged of him a branch of the ivy, cut
with his own hand. Keble was much amused, and
cut it for him, as of course, and unsparingly. As we
two walked away, he said, "You may smile at my
request, but I assure you I know and could name
the persons at home who would give me, (I am
afraid to mention the sum he mentioned,) for every
leaf I have in my hand."
The winter of 1854 passed away, and I see by our
his boy both went down with the ship, and when he rose to the
surface of the sea, he saw one of the ship's round tops, or a part of
a wheel-guard, or cover, and got upon it, and so I think did the son."
His bad or weak conduct at first, excluded him afterwards from
maritime service ; he left it certainly, and is no longer spoken of.

Proceedings against Archdeacon Denison. 423
•correspondence that he was busying himself a good
deal with, and very anxious about, the proceedings
against Archdeacon Denison, and I received many
letters from him about them ; but I shall pass this
matter over very shortly, not because I think the
doctrine involved in it of any but the gravest im
portance, or that I differed from my friend in his
belief in regard to it ; but that I thought as I still
think, it was in that case- needlessly and unsatis
factorily made the subject of litigation,
I must confess, therefore, that I was not. sorry when
the case went off on a bye-point, and the issue raised
received no decision from the Court of Appeal. In
deed, I have never been able to see what the Church
has gained in certainty of teaching, though I fear it
has lost not a little, at least for a time, in charity of
judgment, by the several cases carried of late years
before ecclesiastical and lay tribunals in respect of
assumed heresy or schism. What has Ritualism
gained or, lost by Westerton v. Liddell, or the be
lief in Baptismal Regeneration by Mr. Gorham's Ap
peal ; the Catholic doctrine in regard to the Holy
Eucharist by the suit I have just mentioned above,
or the hold of the fundamental verities of the Chris
tian faith on the minds of Christians by the proceed
ings against the " Essays and Reviews ?" I believe
little or nothing ; certainly nothing fit to be com^-
pared with the distress of mind to thousands of tender
souls, and the fatal offence which some of these cases

424 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
gave to over-scrupulous, and as I think mistaken per
sons ; who, although they thought the Anglican be
lief, our creeds, formularies, and articles, orthodox, and
the decisions erroneous, yet abandoned the former
on account of the latter. Of course I am not sug
gesting that no such litigation should ever be in
stituted, and I do not forget the solemn undertaking
of the Bishop on his Consecration. It would seem
presumptuous in me to say a word in limitation, or
explanation, of the words then used ; our Fathers in
the Church will act, it must be presumed, each ac
cording to his own understanding of their obligation ;'.
yet it seems, at least, hard to conceive that any one
is bound by them to appeal to a tribunal, the con
stitution of which he thinks to be uncanonical, or the
decisions of which he holds to proceed on unsound
principles ; especially when so much may»be done in
the spirit of the undertaking by other means.
Keble's motive, indeed, was a different one. He
was very sensitive to the imputation, which he feared
he might labour under, of adhering to the Church
from interested motives ; and therefore he desired
in his own case on some occasions, that his be
lief, or his practice, if impugned, should be brought
under some authoritative judicial cognizance. It
was, however, always I think more wisely con
sidered that such a reference was neither necessary
nor expedient.
Mr. Wilson remained abroad and in Italy in the

Letter to Mr. Wilson.

spring of 1855, and appears to have interested Keble
very much by his letters therefrom. On the 6th of
May he wrote a long answer, from which I will make
some extracts ; a great deal of it is devoted to parish
matters : —
" My very dear Friends,
" Here is a letter from you, Robert, which came in this
morning, lying as yet unopened; because I feel as if the
beginning of it would be less heart-breaking, or, however,
I hope to feel less unworthy of it, if I make a decent be
ginning of this before I unseal it. I am really very peni
tent, but you would partly forgive me, if you knew how
tired my hand gets by the time I have written a letter or -J-
a Sermon. Else full gladly would I have accepted the ex
ercise of writing to you in exchange for the 2 last things
which have hindered me from it ; a long Anti-Roman letter
to a Lady, and a sketch for  , of part of an argument
against this bUl for letting people marry their wives' sisters,
which is now in full career again. Well, however, now I
have really begun, and I will go on I am ' termed? . .
" I think it might not be a bad time to suggest to our
worthy friend the PubUc the notion of having a brotherhood
for Education, like the Freres Chretiens ; who, as an Eccle
siastical Body, would be under control, and from their slight
touch of Asceticism would work as cheaply as they could.
I have long had it in my mind to suggest this to you ; it
would be quite in your line to undertake it, (among other
things,) from your knowing so much of the Christian Bro
thers ; pray think of it while, (as you may guess by the
above,) [here a line is drawn up' to some blunders in the
writing,] I indulge myself in a small nap.
"Well, I have read your kind, long letter, and cannot

426 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
tell you how much I am obliged to you for it ; it does but
confirm the impression which one is daily receiving from
•all one can read or hear of the matter, that Rome, so far as
she is distinctive, builds not only upon falsehood, but upon
falsehood of which she has a certain consciousness ; only
she has made up her mind that it is her duty to back up
her system, (being, she says, substantially true,) with any
amount of needful, or very profitable deception-. The Le
gendary services in the Breviary, with that for tlie 15th Au-
.gust at the head, are a standing instance of this ; and so
will this new doctrine be, in whatever degree they allege
antiquity for it. They cannot but know in their hearts,
that it has not the shadow of a Tradition; and yet see
what their Abp. of Armagh, poor dear  's select patron
says of it. Most fearful it is to me, that neither among tlie
more moderate Romanists, nor among our Romanizers,
(with one exception that E. B. P. told me of,) does it seem
to have produced any sort of scruple or re-action. From
the highest to the lowest they satisfy themselves, I imagine,
with your friend's argument, ' How can we be certain that
it is not so?'
" Your account of Rome really makes one shudder, when
one connects with it this idea of unreality, and comes nearer
than anything for years past to bring back the old Ultras
Protestant notions that one learned as a boy out of Newton
-on the Prophecies. With it (i.e. with your account) on my
mind, I feel as if I would go miles out of my way to avoid
seeing Rome ; it seems so very shocking ; and if this be
-a man's feeling, I suppose there would be no special danger
in going there, and he would be free to choose as health
and convenience and other duties dictated. But I should
be very thankful on a great many accounts, if you are able
to get work and stay here. We really have need of all the

Letter to Mr. Wilson. 427
help we can get Outwardly our friends from Exeter Hall
are having it all their own way ; all appointments, public
meetings, &c But underneatii is, I much fear, a deep and
gradually swelling tide of RationaUsm, in unison with the
revolutionary spirit, wliich has disclosed itself upon occa
sion of these mismanagements in the War. But enough
and too much of this croaking. I saw a letter the other
day from Moorsom to Upton Eichards, dated, I think,
Easter Monday, in very good spirits, and altogether com
fortable. Also I know you wiU be glad to hear that I think
your successor is making his way very nicely in the place
and neighbourhood ; he puts me often in mind of George
Herbert's lines : —
' Be useful where thou livest, that they may
Both want and wish thy pleasing presence still.'
I find myself continually resorting to him, as in old time to
dear W. C. Y. At this present he is superintending a nego
tiation for a new Clock in our Church 
" Dear Mrs. Heathcote, you know better than I, was a
great loss ; it was very touching to be with her son just
afterwards. Thirty-five years ago I think it was that I saw
them first together,, and I thought then I never saw a Mo
ther and Son on such lover-like terms ; and they have never
been apart for six months together. .... With dear love to
your wife and bairns, ever yours affect17, J. K."
It will be seen how Keble speaks of the new dogma
of the Immaculate Conception, and he felt the same
as long as he hved. The promulgation of it pained
him much ; it constituted in his opinion, so lon°- as
it remained unrevoked, an absolute bar to the unity
of Christendom. In this letter he specifies one ob-

428 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
jection to it on which in all such cases he relied
much, that not only was there no authority for it
in Holy Writ, but, as he expresses it, not a shadow
of tradition. It will be obvious, that his reliance on
this involves his denial of others of the. foundations
on which Romanism rests ; as for example, the infal
libility of the Pope, and his supreme power in mat
ters of faith. ,'.
I make no apology to Sir W. Heathcote for print
ing the short extract relating to his mother. It will
give many pleasure to look at the picture which
Keble paints like a poet in a single word, and I
am sure it will give him no pain to have such recol
lections revived. Fifteen years before, I think, she
had been visited with a serious illness, a paralytic
seizure, the effects of which on her bodily frame
were never removed; but her mind was spared 'to
the last, and she passed away in 1855 in her son's
house,' in which she had- lived during the interval,
painlessly arid peacefully, from gradual and gentle
decay, rather than from illness, in the presence of
the son, who was thankful to God that he was al
lowed " to watch her last breath."
I think the case of Westerton and Liddell was de
cided in this year, 1855. Keble's opinions in regard
to Ritualism will have to be noticed more fully here
after, but I may say in passing that this decision
vexed him a good deal, though he did not exaggerate
its importance. I had allowed him to read a very

Letter from New Zealand. 429
beautiful letter to myself from my nephew, now
Bishop Patteson, who had attached himself to the
Bishop of New Zealand, and gone out with him in
the spring of 1855 to that island. Keble wrote on the
two subjects to me on the nth of December, 1855 : —
"Thank you over and over again for the sight of that
noble, tender letter ; surely it is one of the most perfect
things altogether that one ever met with in this worky-day
world. One cannot, as the people say, think enough of it.
Surely there must be in store some very good thing for the
Church in those parts, that such men should be attracted
towards it. It is enough to make up for  pretending
to determine how Christian People should think of and
behave to the Holy Sacrament. I have something to write
to you on that matter, which I shall try and put on another
piece of paper, for my own mind's relief, for I don't suppose
it can be of any use. No doubt, as you say, there is a ten
dency in all this to drive unstable minds to Rome. The
souls, however, must be very unstable, indeed, less settled
than the loosest possible tooth, if such a matter can cough
them out from among us. For what is it to the proof or
disproof of the Pope's Supremacy, or the ruling powers of
the B. V. M., whether I may have a Cross on the Altar
Table, or no ? Though I must own, I do expect that when
these outward signs of the Truth are suppressed, the Truth
itself wliich they symbolize will be openly persecuted, and
probably forbidden to be taught in the Established Church ;
but not a bit the nearer should one be to Rome for that, as
I understand the matter."
The state of Mrs. Keble's health during this year
fluctuated much, but generally speaking it was such

43° Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
as to cause him anxiety ; and though, as he said
affectionately in one of his letters to me, refer
ring to another cause of discomfort, " As for Char
lotte, I know nothing can really hurt her ;" yet there
was so much doubt as to the real cause of her ail
ments, and they were so variously accounted for at
different times, as much to increase his uneasiness.
However, he tried again the remedy, which was
never without some effect, and I find several letters
to Mr. Wilson dated from North Wales ; they were
at Llandudno, and Capel Curig, and, I believe,
Barmouth in August ; and before they returned
to Hursley, they visited the Bishop of Oxford at
Lavington. The trip answered in some measure for
her ; but his letters shew that wherever he went, he
carried his Church anxieties with him, and beyond
these, his Church work also. After " tossing about
the South Downs for a few days," he was busy now
with the present Archdeacon Freeman, in comparing
their notes about two proposed Hymnals, Sarum and
Scottish. Indeed, he never rested ; and if he was anxious
for his wife's health, her anxiety for him was very
great ; and earlier in the year it had led her, with
out his knowledge, to communicate with me respect
ing him. Her account of his ailments, and his deter
mined exposure of himself in parochial ministrations,
even at night when suffering under erysipelas, infected
me with her fears. The necessity for imprudent ex-

Separation from Mr. Young. 431
posure often arose from his excellent Curate being
only a Deacon, and unable to obtain Priest's Orders.
This was a matter of conscience between the Bishop
and him, in which of course I could not without
difficulty interfere. At last, however, from anxiety
for one friend, and confidence in the personal kind
ness of the other, I made an attempt, which was
unsuccessful ; and the consequence was the separa
tion of Keble and Mr. Young; a separation pecu
liarly bitter, as there was the greatest intimacy and
a connection between the families ; and the servicer
of the Curate were so dutiful, and earnest, and so-
acceptable to the parishioners, that without any re
flection on his successors I may in justice say, they
never were, and scarcely could be entirely replaced.
As I had no right to interfere, so I desire to be
understood as making no reflection on the decision ;
there was, I am certain, nothing personal in it ; the
motive was a conscientious one, and however I might
regret the judgment at the time, it is not for me to
reflect upon it.
I went on the Winter Circuit into the West this
year, and saw Keble for a very pleasant Sunday
evening at Hursley Park on the 30th of November.
I had come out from Winchester after the morning
service to the afternoon service at Hursley; there
was no party, and we had some quiet talk together ;
but my work was very heavy, and distressing, and I
had no time to see him again. His mind, however,

432 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
was now at work on the Divorce Bill, which was
about to be brought into Parliament. I need not
say how strongly he felt against the measure, which
in one of his notes he calls " a Bill for legalizing
Adultery." Early in the spring of 1857 ne published
"An Argument for not proceeding immediately to
Repeal the Laws, which treat the Nuptial Bond as
Indissoluble." It was a plea for delay at all events ; and the
argument on the general question was professedly
left incomplete, because it was necessary he thought
to enquire how far the practice of the Church from
early times agreed with the construction which he
gave to the passages of Scripture on which he
grounded his opinion. Nor does he appear to have
objected to separation under certain circumstances,
as distinguished from divorce. With these qualify
ing remarks the argument seems to me, if I may
presume to say so, sound and ingenious, and to dis
play that intimate acquaintance with Scripture which
he certainly possessed. The Bill, however, as we
know, passed info a Law ; in vain stoutly resisted
by Mr. Gladstone clause by clause. Whether society
in its morality has received the benefits which it
promised may well be doubted ; the old practice of
divorce by special statutes was certainly very objec
tionable ; and the new law has to the present time had
the advantage of being administered by two judges
in succession of rare excellency, men who may be

The Divorce Bill. 433

equalled, but will scarcely ever be surpassed in their
own province ; and yet when I consider the effect
on the purity of the public mind, of the proceedings
in the Court, daily circulated among all ages and
classes ; the collusion between parties, sometimes de
feated, but too often no doubt successfully practised ;
and above all, the fatally strong temptation which
its open doors must offer to conjugal infidelity;
I cannot think that Keble had cause to regret
anything but the ill-success of his very moderate
argument. I do not believe that the eminent judges
to whom I have referred, could we have the bene
fit now of their advice, would be disposed to com
mend the law which they have been called on to
administer. But it is one of the instances of legis
lation in which " Vestigia nulla retrorsum."
The ill-success of my interference in respect of
Mr. Young, and a just consideration for him, could
lead only to his giving up the Hursley curacy. How
best to arrange this for him had been for some time
a subject of sad consideration for Keble ; it was of
course no easy matter; but on the 30th of March,
1857, he wrote to me from Hursley as follows : —
"We are here just now in the agonies of parting with
dear Peter Young, and Caroline, and the 8 minor dears.
It is a great deal of sunshine to be shut out from us, from
my poor wife especially. But if they were to go, and to
a place as poor as they leave, they could not well have
Ff

434 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
more comfort in going. What do you think of our farmers
here, quite and clean of their own accord, getting up a sub
scription, which by liberal addition from the Park, amounted
to £142, collected entirely in the Parish, and with such
love and good-will from all sorts. It took my breath away
when I heard of it ; and it was done in such a delicate and
feeling manner too ; J,i6 applied to find him a set of ves
sels for Private Communion, the rest for expenses of migra
tion. Also 3 voluntary and unpaid teams start to-night at
12 o'clock to carry his goods as far as the Fisherton Station
at Salisbury. It makes me love the place better than ever.
You should have heard the little speech which Heathcote
made to him this morning before a select audience, con
sisting of the Collectors, i.e. the principal tenants, and a
very few wives and daughters. We are going to wpmijat'
(escort) them as far as Salisbury. Two of the children are
left with us at present."
It was no doubt a cause of great present distress
to Keble, and of lasting sorrow, the departure of the
Youngs ; it was more than the mere loss of an affec
tionate and diligent Curate on whom he could en
tirely depend ; he felt the loss of his companion, of
the whole family, not least, perhaps, of the little
children ; and he felt also for the great privation
which he knew it brought with it to Mrs. Keble..
However it was inevitable. He had the great con
solation after a while of seeing Mr. Young preferred
to the living which he now holds. I need not say that
I am speaking of the author of the " Daily Read
ings," which those who know them will not think!

Tour on the Continent. 435
overrate, when I say they are an invaluable addition
to our family libraries, and help to our family prayers.
His place as curate was well supplied for a time by
Mr. Le Geyt, but circumstances thenceforward occa
sioned many changes in Keble's curates, and as he
was before long compelled, sometimes by his own,
and sometimes Mrs. Keble's ill-health, to be absent
from home for long periods, he increased the number,
and had two.
In the summer of this year, 1857, Mrs. Keble and
he made a tour on the Continent, of which he gave
me a short account in the following letter, written
from Hursley the 23rd of October : —
" Dearest Coleridge,
" This is, indeed, worse than ever, that I should never
yet have thanked you for your most kind letter received,
I think, at Thun, and so welcome every way. But you
are too much used to my idle ways, and I to your for
giving ways. Somehow, when I was out, I had even less
inclination to write than usual. I cannot say that I had
not time, but I accepted aU manner of excuses. Our
journey was very full of interest, and I hope has done my
wife's health good on the whole, notwithstanding one very
serious drawback, of which I dare say you have heard-
Our course was to leave the main Railway at Dijon, and'.
scramble over the Jura, chiefly for the sake of the grand
view, (which, however, we missed, owing to a certain M. de
BrouUlard, who had a trick of waiting upon us just when
his presence was least acceptable,) and to come down upon
the Lake at Nyon, (for we agreed to cut Geneva,) and after

436 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
two nights at Vevay, to go a little way up the Valley of the .
Rhone, and turn to the left according to a route which
Wilson had given us, avoiding the Mont Blanc side as too
much for Madame. We went up the Val d'Ormont, staid
three nights, including a Sunday, at Sepcy, a curious speci
men of a Swiss Village ; then by Chateau d'Oex to Thun,
Interlacken, Lauter-brunnen, and Grindelwald for our third
Sunday. The next week took us from Grindelwald to Mey-
rinzen, then up the vale of the Aar to the passes of the
Grimsel and Furca, and down the Reuss to Andermatt,
and these two days were the noblest part of our doings to
my mind ; then down the Lake and up the Rigi ; then to
Lucerne for the next Sunday, (the pleasantest town I think
that we made acquaintance with). We lingered a little
there to nurse a cold, which she had caught, and then went
on to Basle, intending to make our way home down the
Rhine ; but at Basle she was suddenly seized with a vio
lent attack of pleurisy, with some inflammation of the lungs.
It was in the middle of the night, but by God's good Pro
vidence a friend, (Laura Richards,) was with us, who proved
a most admirable nurse; and we got some leeches then,
and some good advice the next day ; so that we were able
to get to Strasburgh by the end of that week, and came
home by Paris, Dover, and London, giving up the Rhine
of course, and also giving up, which I more regret, our
Devonshire visits, amongst which we had quite reckoned
on one to you. Since then she has been rather mending,
and could do in the way of moving about rather more than
before we went abroad. Just now she is suffering from
a cold, but I trust it will not come to much.
" I have been too much taken up since we came home
with a little book I have been trying to write on Eucha-
ristical Adoration. I hope it will be out next week. The

Keble's " Eucharistical A doration." 43 7
subject I fear will be very disturbing to us again ; and I
want, if I could, to quiet people, or, at least, shew those
who wish to be quiet, that they are not wrong in being so.
Alas, that dear Pusey should still be unable to write for us ;
I fear for a long time yet."
The book of which Keble speaks in this letter
appeared soon after its date, a second edition in
1859, and a third has been published since his death.
Its fuller title is, " The Worship of our Lord and
Saviour in the Sacrament of Holy Communion."
Its object and its plan are so shortly and so fully
stated in the opening paragraph, that it may be
well to transcribe it; as I could not pass over in
entire silence a work by Keble on a subject on
which he felt so deeply, and had thought so in
tently and laboriously for so many years of his life.
The subject, indeed, is so important, and the trea
tise so able, that I regret it has not obtained a wider
circulation, and I should be glad to draw to it more
attention from serious people, whether for praise or
condemnation : —
" The object of this Essay is to allay, and, if possible, to
'quiet the troublesome thoughts which may at times, and
now especially, occur to men's minds on this awful subject,
so as even to disturb them in the highest act of devotion.
For this purpose it may be well to consider calmly, not
without deep reverence of heart, First, what Natural Piety
' would suggest ; Secondly, what Holy Scripture may ap
pear to sanction; Thirdly, what the Fathers and Litur-

438 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
gies indicate to have been the practice of the Primitive
Church ; Fourthly, what the Church of England enjoins or
recommends." The words, " now especially," refer to the decision
of Archbishop Sumner in the Denison Case, which
was the cause for writing the book; and after an
orderly and careful discussion of the four points
above stated, a fifth and concluding chapter is added
on the duties of Churchmen in respect of that de
cision. This is a very interesting chapter, and has
an importance as applicable to other possible cases.
It is of course addressed to those who might think
the decision erroneous ; and it first establishes, that
however gravely erroneous it might seem to a man,
even if he conscientiously beiieved it to be heretical,
it would have been, even if final, no cause for leaving
the Church, or declining communion with its author;
because it would not bind the conscience ; the refusal
to act in obedience to it might expose one to tem
poral penalty, but it could do no more ; the penalty
must be submitted to meekly, and if it fall not on
an individual personally, he must help with his
prayers and out of his means those on whom it
should. Further, there might remain protest and
appeal, the former is " the course of those who feel
themselves aggrieved, but know of no legal remedy,"
it supposes " the final authority to have spoken ;" the
latter supposes some higher authority, which may be
applied to and has power to reverse the decision.

Keble's " Eucharistical Adoration." 439
For the satisfaction of conscience Keble would, and,
indeed, I believe, did protest, but he relied on ap
peal ; not to any other English tribunal, but to an
CEcumenical Council when it should be assembled.
Here it was that many have considered his course
an unreal and chimerical one. He was aware of
this, but his opinion was not hastily taken up, nor,
as he thought, without the sanction of great autho
rities. He had had occasion more than once in
his life to consider the matter deeply, and it had
quieted his conscience, and made him easy in a loyal
adherence to his Church. Those who deride or
condemn his view, should in justice read, at least,
this part of his work, for it is not easy to give the
full force of his argument in a short analysis. He
considered it —
" Of the very last importance that we should keep in our
own minds, and before aU Christendom, the fact that we
stand as Orthodox Catholics upon a constant virtual appeal
to the oecumenical voice of the Church, expressed by the
Four Great Councils, and by general consent in all the
ages during which she continued undivided."
And he asked, —
" If that voice be disputed, is there any conceivable way
of bringing the dispute to an issue, except only by another
true CEcumenical Council when such by God's grace may
be had."
Further on he says : —
"The question may weU be asked, — much more easily

440 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
asked than answered, — whether in the present divided state
of Christendom, all who believe in the Holy Catholic
Church must not in reality, however unconsciously, be
going on under this very appeal, at least, as against other
claimants. The Greek will say, ' I go by the voice of the
present Church diffusive ;' the Latin, 'I go by the infal
lible voice of the See of St. Peter ;' the English, ' I go by
what has been held fundamental everywhere, always, and
by all ;' but who is to decide between them, which of these
measures is right. Yet all, one may hope, would agree to
defer to the decision of such a Council as has been specified,
were it attainable. It is our common position ; and we in
England have so much the more reason to acquiesce in it,
as it does not force us to " unchurch," (as it is termed,)
either of the other great sections of Christendom ; as they do
mutually one another and us."
It may be said there is no true analogy between
the case of one branch of the Church at issue with
others, and that of an individual or individuals who
cannot in conscience accept an authoritative decision
in their own branch, as for example, that of the Ju
dicial Committee of the Privy Council ; but certainly
there is no difference in principle between the two
cases in respect of that on which mainly the charge
of unreality must rest, namely, the present apparent
hopelessness of a really CEcumenical Council being
assembled. It will not be doubted, that if so un
likely an event should occur, the Council would be
the proper place in which should be considered the
grievance of those individuals who, like Keble, had

Keble's " Eucharistical A doraliou." 44 1
invincible objections to the Latin and Greek branches,
who loved and adhered to their own branch, and who
complained only of a judicial decision which seemed
to them to taint its orthodoxy.
I do not know that any allowance need be made,
or, indeed, ought to be made, in considering Keble's
reasoning, for the extreme anxiety he felt for those
who were troubled by the judgments to which he
alludes. He was familiar with all their sorrows, and
I think} he felt it in some sort his mission, (though
in his modesty he would have shrunk from acknow
ledging this,) to soothe them, and reconcile them to
follow in the path in which he himself had found
peace. Time has in God's good will had a healing
force; many have forgotten, many never knew the
anxieties of that day; but it is good to remember
them, that we may learn tenderness for others, and
be grateful, too, for ourselves.
I see about this very time I wrote to him express
ing my anxiety about the pending judgment : —
" I have seen," I said, " how mischievously these judg
ments do disturb and overthrow men's minds. We have
lost an excellent man here, a pious, good-hearted clergy
man, a perfect blessing to his little flock, simply on the
Gorham proceeding : against the scruples which it inspired
he has been fighting for five years, and at last given in.
He told me with tears in his eyes, that he was worn in
body almost to a skeleton, and would rather die than go
through again aU he had suffered."

442 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
-¦ ¦¦'¦ ¦ -  — ¦ ' • \ 'i—
However mistaken such persons were, their agonies
were real ; to such persons Keble in the conclusion
of his treatise addressed himself affectionately, and
it seems to me conclusively : —
" Many a devout and loving heart, I well know, wiU rise
up against this view of our case. To be on this conditional
temporary footing will strike them as something so unsatis
factory, so miserably poor and meagre, so unlike the glori
ous vision which they have been used to gaze on, of the
one Catholic Apostolic Church. And poor, indeed, and
disappointing it undoubtedly is, but not otherwise than as
the aspect of Christianity itself in the world is poor and
disappointing compared with what we read of it in the
Gospel. " Men will not escape from this state of decay by going
¦elsewhere, though they may shut their eyes to the reality of
it. Rather, whatever be our position in the Church, since*
God Almighty has assigned it to us for our trial, shall we
not accept it, and make the best of it, in humble con
fidence that according to our faith it will be to us ?
" This, please God, is the way of truth and peace, and
therefore in it we may hope for a blessing, the rather if it
should prove to be the way of the Cross also. But to en
gage oneself, by a strong act of the will, to the whole sys
tem of a body new fo us, not upon the proper evidence of
that system, but because some in temporary authority among
ourselves have denied our holy doctrine ; this has something
in it so very unreal, that it can hardly agree with truth ; and
so like ill-temper, that it gives but a bad omen for peace."

CHAPTER XVIII.
1857, DEATH OF THE REV. J. D. COLERIDGE. — BUILD
ING OF SCHOOL CHAPEL AT PITT, 1858. — DEATH
OF MRS. T. KEBLE, JUNIOR, 1 85 8. — TROUBLES IN
THE SCOTTISH EPISCOPAL CHURCH. — STAY AT
OXFORD, 1859. — TOUR TO THE NORTH. — VISIT
TO EDINBURGH, i860. — DEATH OF ELIZABETH
KEBLE, AUGUST, i860. — DEATH OF C. DYSON. —
VISIT TO DEVONSHIRE. — DEATH OF J. PATTE
SON, 1 86 1.
IT may seem that I take advantage of my pre
sent task to obtrude impertinently my own trials
or sorrows on my readers. I hope, however, that
my motive has been seen .by them, and the sort of
necessity that was laid on me, not to omit some of
the choicest out-pourings of Keble's tender heart
and religious spirit. I must crave their indulgence
when I commence this chapter in the same way.
On Christmas Eve, in the year 1857, my eldest
brother, with whom I had walked, for sixty years
and more, from the earliest childhood in love that
had never had one remembered breach, nor even
the slightest diminution, was almost suddenly taken
from me. I communicated this of course to Keble,

/]/|/| Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
and on the 29th of December he wrote to me as
follows : —
" Dearest Coleridge,
" I am, indeed, grieved that your Christmas should have
been saddened by such a loss, a loss I too, deeply feel,
irreparable in this world ; and you have had so much to go
through in that way; but 'the time is short,' and Christmas
is happier there than even here ; and surely his being taken
just at that time, and with so little comparative suffering,
seem special marks of favour and blessing. He will be
sadly missed. . . . Dear Heathcote feels as you know he
would ; he did not say he would write to you, but I dare
say he will. What a gathering, dear friend, we are per
mitted to think of as time goes on, one after another taken
out of sight to pray for us, and wait for us in peace. The
last I had much to think of, was the little babe on whose
account this is edged with a little black ; Charlie Young,
the least of our little cousins, 13 months old. He came
with his mother to pay us a little visit in November, and
you would not believe, yes, you would know better than I,
how he wound himself round all our hearts, and how much
my dear wife thinks of his little grave, close to the Church
door at Brooking; which has made the place seem like
a home to them, more I dare say than any other kind of
thing could have done. To all appearance, our next part
ing in the family is likely to be still more trying, very much
more, but who knows ? and who dare choose ? I wish in
one respect that your kind thought for Tom could have
been realized, one fancies that work would be a help and
relief; but I dare say it is best as it is. The rest of our
lot, thank God, are in tolerable Christmas order. . .*.
" I thank you with all my heart for your encouraging

Death of Rev. J. D. Coleridge. 445
words about my little Book. I shall be very thankful, if
it does some little good, and no harm. Something of the
kind, I am sure, was very much wanted, especially just
now in Scotland. Have you heard of Bp. Forbes's troubles ?
but I have not time to write more now.
God bless you, dearest friend, and dear Mary, and your
wife, and all, and give you a full share in all the good
prayers that are offered up at this time by all His people
everywhere. With kindest love from me and my two bet
ters, ever yours, J. K."
It may be remembered that in an early part of my
memoir, I stated that after all the church arrange-
riients made for the benefit of the two parishes which
formed Keble's incumbency, there was still a hamlet
in Hursley parish not provided for as he desired.
This was Pitt, which lies between Winchester and
Hursley, in a little green valley as you descend
from the upland downs which separate the one from
the other; it is as much as three miles from Hursley
Church. For a long time a service was performed
in it weekly in a cottage, to which Keble walked
often and often, as long as his strength was equal to
it; but in this year, 1858, a school-chapel was built
there, which was licensed on the 31st of March, and
not long after a residence was supplied for a school
master. This last was due to the liberality of several
contributors ; for the former, Keble and this portion
of his flock were indebted to my dear relative,

446 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Charlotte Yonge, the daughter of him whom I have
more than once before-mentioned, whose name is
deservedly well-known in the literature of England.
I may not particularize, indeed I cannot, and I be
lieve no one but herself could particularize all her mu
nificent acts done in the same spirit, which render her
literary works the greater blessing to herself, and yet
the very least of her claims to the love and respect
of others. She could scarcely have gratified Keble
more than by this offering, though he could scarcely
love her the more for it, than he had done before.
He seems, from the manner in which he always
writes of her, to have regarded her almost as a
daughter bequeathed to him by her departed father.
Pitt flourished. Writing in the following year to
the Wilsons, he says : —
" The Pitt district seems at present to thrive Under the
care of Mr. Baker, (a nephew by marriage of Moberly,)
who is very kindly curatizing there for me in the intervals
of his work as Chaplain of the College. He brought 8 can
didates. to Confirmation at Otterbourne the other day, and
had 17 Communicants in the little School-Chapel on Easter
Day, and a congregation of 72 on Good Friday, the popula
tion of Pitt being under 100. I advise you to get a Moberly-
bred Curate."
Keble alludes in his letter of the 29th of Decem
ber, 1857, to the illness of the young lady, the
daughter of George Cornish, whose marriage I have

Illness of Sir William Heathcote. 447
mentioned above, and he wrote no letter for some
time without speaking of it. She, however, lingered
until the end of the year ; meantime he had been
made very anxious by an alarming illness of Sir
William Heathcote ; and writing, as I now do, when
that same dear friend is recovering, as I trust, from
an illness at one time equally alarming, I cannot
help inserting a word from one of Keble's letters at
the time. My readers may remember my mention
of the baptism and death of one of his children ; it
was in this year that he was taken, and the loss
was a very trying one.
Keble, speaking of Sir William, says : —
" Indeed, I trust by God's blessing, that he is now really
getting better. I saw him on Wednesday for \ of an hour,
very sweet and cheerful, but much puUed down. It was much
owing to his anguish about that dear little Godfrey."
It is for the sake of both, the living and the dead,
that I set down any notice of this interview ; it im
pressed Keble very much. I find it mentioned in
three letters ; in one to Mr. Wilson he says : —
" I saw him on Tuesday for \ of an hour, and I cannot
teU you how it impressed me. Would that I were worthy
but to remember it all exactly, much more to enter into it.
He was so sweet, and noble, and humble, and loving."
In this year Keble and I lost our dear old Corpus
' friend, Noel Ellison, and at the close of it, the niece

448 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
of whom I have just spoken died also. He expresses
his feelings on this and other similar visitations in
the letter which I now insert : —
"H. V., Innocents' Day, 1858.
" Dearest Coleridge,
" You will have heard, I dare say, that the long-expected
blow has at last fallen on us. Our dear Niece at Sidmouth
was on Thursday gathered to her Father, and Sisters, and
Brother, and her little first-born Child. She had been very
much worse for several days ; and a very little before had
given a sort of signal of what was going to happen by say
ing with one of her bright looks, when she was asked to
take something, ' Nothing but Holy Communion will do
me good now.' So we were quite spared what I had much
dreaded, that her mind might give way before her body, as
I believe often happens in such extreme weakness. Poor
dear Tom, he will be all the more desolate, from having
been able all along to devote himself exclusively to her;
but of course it is a pain, which so far he would not part
with for all the world. His Father and Mother, I trust,
are with him now. He and Harriet, (Kenie's Mother,)
were the only persons with her at the moment, 2 p.m. At
7 that same morning dear Moberly saw the departure of
his second son Arthur, a most promising youth every way.
He is by this time buried in the cloisters of the College,
where also Kenie's brother George is laid. And a few
days before, a Coxwell, nephew of Caroline Young, 'the
only son of his father, and he a widower,' died, and was
buried at Hurst Pier Point. Dear Kenie is to be buried
at Salcombe on Thursday next. It is, indeed, a trying,
though a very soothing Christmas. This one day seems

Death of Mrs. T. Keble, fun. 449
to diffuse itself, as it were, over all the twelve. You will
think of us all, though I sadly feel that I never thought
enough of you in your many troubles. My own dear Sister
alarmed us also a good deal this day week, but I thank
God that she is now apparently getting better and better.
"But, O my dear friend, what is it all in comparison,
whether we and those dear to us are here a few days longer,
or no. If we may but be with Him, and with one another
by and by ! This has been a trying year all along, — Miller,
Ellison, Marriott, W. Barter, — each as he went seemed to
say, ' Your Time must soon come.' Yet the comforts left
are unspeakable.
" Dec' 29. I could not manage to finish this yesterday,
and now, lest I should be prevented again, I must go at
once to business. The sum you speak of, (which in spite
of your asseverations I can scarcely believe to be all mine,)
may be paid to my account with D. L. and Co., Winchester,
whenever it is convenient. Of course I am glad of it ; but
I wish people would consider my prose, as well as like my
verses. Or rather, I wish that some one of real learning
and ability might be raised up Xa force good people to put
their minds to the truths which I believe they are instinctively
acting on, though they are afraid to enunciate them in words.
That is my account of this Scottish Controversy, as well as
of a good deal that is going on in England. And having
that view I cannot but hope diat matters will be overruled,
so as to spare us a Schism, though at present matters look
very hke it. I have not read Mr. Mansel's book, and do
not at all expect I should understand it if I did. I hear
people speaking very highly of it, and sadly of the need of
it  " I like to hear of your visits to John, how happy they
must make aU parties. My love to all three generations,

45 o Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
and especially to poor Mary, when you see her. May all'
go well, and may the New Year be every way happy to
you, prays your loving friend, J. K."
In more than one previous letter he had spoken
of the Scottish Controversy, which was much on his
mind, both on account of the subject — the Holy Eu
charist — and because, according to his usual mode
of judging himself with severity, he fancied he had
done harm by mingling in it unnecessarily and pre
sumptuously : —
" I am paying," says he, in writing to me, " for my con
ceited interference, (for so I fear it must have been indeed
before the All-Seeing,) with this Eucharistical question, by
being made the instrument of rending (too likely) the Scot
tish Church. I know that in all your own cares you will.
find room to pray that I may be spared this."
At this time among the persons prominently
engaged were two men, both of whom he had
long known intimately, and both of whom he es
teemed and loved very greatly — Bishop Words
worth, and Bishop Forbes ; and he had always re
garded the Scottish Episcopalian Church with deep
reverence ; he had accepted with pleasure a titular
canonry in the College at Cumbrae. It so hap
pened that Dr. Pusey's ill-health had prevented
Bishop Forbes from having free recourse to him,
whom he ordinarily consulted in his difficulties, and
so he had applied to Keble, who of course could not

The Scottish Controversy. 45 1
shrink from answering the call made on him. He
had not obtruded himself in the matter, and I sup
pose no one but himself could have seen any im
propriety, or anything like conceit or presumptuous-
ness, in his giving advice or support to one whom
he believed to be in the right, and who seemed in
danger of being overpowered.
In the May of this year, 1858, six of the bishops
of the Scottish Church had met in a special Synod,
and issued a Pastoral Letter condemnatory of a
Charge which had been delivered to his own clergy,
and published, by the seventh of their body, Bishop
Forbes. And this occasioned the publication by
Keble of "Considerations, suggested by a late Pas
toral Letter on the Doctrine of the most Holy Eu
charist." " Interference" by me now in a controversy
on this mysterious subject would be, indeed, to use
Keble's word, "conceited," and I shall pass it over,
except that, to prevent my leaving a wrong impres
sion as to the spirit in which Keble interfered, I
think I ought to add an extract from one other of
his letters : —
" I have been harping on a string, which I fancy might
be pacific, if people would be so minded, between the two
Champions, Brechin and St. Andrews. My firm beUef is
that they both agree in this, that there is in the Holy Eu
charist a Presence Real in the utmost possible degree of
Reahty : and that they only differ about the question, what
degree is possible, i.e. of course possible to God. And

452 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
about this, since no paramount Church Authority has ex
pressly decided it, the right course is to allow each side to
hold and teach their own opinion with express toleration
of the other."
And this in truth was the spirit in which he was
a controversialist. He certainly had strong opinions
as to what he deemed the true faith, and they were
to him matters of the holiest obligation ; he had
been brought up in them, he had read deeply and
largely upon them, and he thought he saw moral
failures traceable to a departure from them in the
belief of men. But with all this he ever made the
largest allowances, and his most inward desire was
for peace.
Nevertheless, I call to mind that I was uneasy at
what I feared in him, the growth of a controversial
spirit, and we had a little correspondence about it.
I urged him to give the world some of his parochial
sermons. I said : —
" I am sure you undervalue them, and the good which
by God's blessing they might do. Of this I think you
should let others judge. But in addition to this other and
direct motive, I am also, I must confess, somewhat in
fluenced by the effect it would have on your reputation as
a Divine and Parochial Clergyman. I should be sorry that
you should only be known by strangers as a controversialist.
I wish they should see that the occasional short publications,
which the more part never look at for fear of being ' per
verted,' are as nothing to the amount of your work and
teaching as Vicar of Hursley."

Keble's Parochial Sermons. 45 3
He answered, referring me to the neglected ser
mons he had published, and I replied, insisting on
a volume of parochial sermons, with his name : —
" You have not tried this, and there are in my opinion
two good reasons why you should, one for the good I be
lieve they would do, the other personal, (partly so only,)
that the world may be undeceived, or better informed
about you, and not suppose you are merely a Controversial
Divine, engaged in propping up unpopular opinions in the
Church." I went on also to urge him on to his Life of
Wilson, which seemed in danger of being never
finished : —
" StUl another last word ; S> lUWrJTav /xeXXij™c<irare, where
is thy WUson ? You are not so old as I am, and you have
learned to finger by the way as much as I do. Why is it
that the shorter our time, the more we loiter over our work ?
Procrastination should be the thief of younger days, but she
delights to gather up the lengthening shadows."
I stumbled on these letters among those returned
to me, and I cannot expect others to read them with
the feelings which they roused up in myself. Alas,
though younger, he was not allowed so many days
to loiter in and on his work, (if, indeed, I had justly
accused him of loitering,) as have been allowed to
me. But he did not loiter, he was continually, too
continually, at work. I failed to . persuade him as
to the sermons, unfortunately, as I still think; but

454 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
he undervalued his compositions ; it was unpleasant
to him to undertake a selection, and a reviewal of
them for publication. This would of course have
been necessary, but he might have bequeathed to
the Church something like the gift which Dr. New
man has left behind him, differing indeed in cha
racter in some respects, and perhaps inferior in gene
ral merit, but still a great and good gift. In de
livery he did not give his sermons the advantages
of an ordinarily eloquent preacher, but he was emi
nently winning ; he let himself down, I do not mean
in language or argument, but in simplicity and child
like humility, to the most uneducated of his audi
ence ; he seemed always to count himself one of
the sinners, one of the penitents, one even of the
impenitents and careless, whom he was address
ing, and the very quietness, the almost tearful mo
notony of his delivery became extremely moving,
when you recollected how learned, how able, how
moved in his own heart, and how earnest was the
preacher. His brother, I am happy to say, is now seeking to
xepair our loss in this respect by a serial issue of his
sermons, and for this we shall thank him much ; but
of course he will not venture to correct them ; and
it must have been desirable that Keble himself should
have had the opportunity of finally perfecting them
before publication.
I was more fortunate as to the Wilson; at least,

Keble' s Visit to Oxf ord. 455
not long after I wrote, in the spring of 1859, he
writes to me : —
" We go to Oxford a bit if we can after Whit Sunday to
kill off Bp. Wilson, if possible. It would be very pleasant
work if one had nothing else to do, and plenty of time to
do it in. As it is, I expect it will be a good deal of a
faUure." He made out this visit to Oxford, and I think
Dr. Barrow, then the Principal of St. Edmund Hall,
lent him his house. On his return, he wrote to me
from Hursley on the 1st of August : —
" You may be quite sure that it would be a great delight
to us both, if we could answer your most kind invitation
in the way we desire ; as one grows older, such meetings
are more precious, but somehow harder to be managed ;
nevertheless, I live in hope of managing it before the end
of the available weather. We had a dear httle two days
of Dogmersfield lately. I had fancied faffing in with you
at this Election, but you were gone before I emerged.
Somehow I am become quite a gownsman again. I hke
my new place as Head of a HaU very much ; how it would
be if there were anything to do is another question ; and
also whether it be 'tanti' as regards Bishop WUson; but I
beheve it could not be helped ; there were so many little
odd points to be verified and explained. About the 15th
we are to join the Wilsons at Whitby, which I hope will
.give Charlotte a little strength for the winter. I may have
to go to the I. of Man again ; but if I can do without that,
my dream is of the ' Sweet Shire ;' only I cannot engage."
He did not go to the Isle of Man, but he accom-

456 Memoir of the Rev.' John Keble.
plished his scheme of a tour northward, and on the
4th of October he wrote again very cheerfully about
it, and himself : —
" One is almost ashamed to be so well and thriving one
self, when one's dear friends and betters are suffering; but
so it is, that we have had a most enjoyable wandering;
and my wife is thought to be looking much the better for
it. Certainly it was a very pretty little programme of an
English Tour. A month or 6 weeks at Oxford, revelling
in Gardens and Libraries, which we had all to ourselves ;
a fortnight's sea-whiff at Whitby, 2 days at York, and i at
Rivaulx Abbey; 4 or 5 at the Wilsons at Baldersby, near
Ripon ; 1 at old Collins's at Knaresborough ; 3 at Hubert
Cornish's, near Chatsworth and the Peak ; 1 at G. Mackar-
ness's, near Isaac Walton ; and a week at Bisley, including
the Elijah, at Gloster Music ; where the two old Codger
Kebles were seen sitting side by side."
I have not thought it right to go into the details
which Keble's letters furnish me with as to the part
he took in what he called the Scottish troubles; it
would not have accorded with the rule which it.
seemed proper to lay down for myself in this Me
moir ; and as I trust they are now happily composed,
on charitable principles, it would be clearly wrong-
on all accounts to incur the least risk of reviving the
feelings of the past ; and this I might have done, in
tending nothing less, even by the most accurate and
careful use of my materials ; which, however, it must
be remembered, are all from one side. But one of

Tour in the North. 457
Keble's letters of February 21, i860, from which I
must make an extract, reminds me of an incident
which ought not to be passed over, as shewing his
heartiness and activity in rendering help to a dear
friend in distress : —
" I was most glad of your letter, for I was longing for
some account of you ; but I wish you could have reported
more cheerily of your belongings. Why did you not say
a word about your own self? We are scrambling through
the cold as well as we can, but C. feels it a good deal, E.
less, I think, in proportion. I am rather frightened at the
returns of the C. Y., what shall I do with it all ? Of late
all one's spare time has been taken up with turning over
Indices of Anglo-Catholic Divines, Benedictine Fathers, &c,
on behalf of our dear Lord of Brechin ; moreover, I actually
ran down to Dun-Edin, and was there the week before last,
from Tuesday morning till Friday afternoon, i.e. during the
whole of the pleadings ; but I was in Court only on the
Thursday to hear Mr. Henderson ; for I lay perdu until I
had ascertained that my presence would not provoke the
Bishops. I fraternized with Moray, Argyll, and St. A. ; and
whatever they mean to do as Judges, they were personally
very kind."
I have been favoured with some anecdotes of his
visit from members of the family with which he was a
guest at the time, from which I will make extracts : —
" His first visit to Edinburgh was in the inclement month
of February, i860. It was cold snowy weather, and he
arrived at 8 in the morning after travelling all night. It
was tlie first day of the trial. He did not go to Court, but

45 8 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
¦confined himself to calling upon his old friend the Bishop
of St. Andrews, who returned his visit. He spent most of
that day with my sisters, and was much amused by being
told of an aged Aunt of ours, who had worn out many
copies of the ' Christian Year,' and had it by heart. He.
talked of its success with great enjoyment and playfulness.
He spoke of his Life of Wilson,, and when found looking
¦over the book-cases, said, ' I always look at books to see if
I can find anything about Bp. Wilson.' He noticed the
Portrait of our Uncle, Mr. Cumming Bruce, whom he had
not seen since he was an Undergraduate at Corpus, adding.
' I remember him quite well, a nice pleasant fellow he was.'
" Our friends crowded to see him. There was a very
atmosphere of peace and restfulness in which he moved.
He gave comfort to every one, though matters then seemed
critical. That day he dined with my sisters.
" On tlie 8th, the second day of the trial, he was in Court,
and his presence there was an object of interest to all. All
in the crowd tried to catch a glimpse of his snowy head.
The remembrance of those calm features, contrasting so
markedly with the excited faces in the midst of all the tur
moil, will never be forgotten by me. There was, however,
an expression of profound distress upon his countenance.
He dined that day with Mr. Forbes of Medwyn, where he
was delighted with the children. One of these, at that time
aged sixteen, thus recorded her impressions of him. ' He
is "old and short, with white hair, and ratiier plain features;
but he has such a sweet heavenly expression. His voice is
rather low ; we cannot hear him, unless he is close to us.
He is so kind, and takes such interest in the little ones.
Aunt A. calls him her good old angel, and really he has
such a sweet winning sort of manner, that it must make
every one like and look up to him, giving one the idea that

Visit to Edinburgh. 459
he must be one of those, who, our Saviour has said, are con
verted, and become as little children.'
" One day he did not go to Court, saying that he would
rest, and would best do so by playing with the children, two
boys of six and nine years of age respectively. He crept
about on the floor, shewing them how to put up a new toy
locomotive, which had been given them."
Keble again went to Edinburgh in March, i860,
although suffering much from rheumatism, when the
Synod pronounced its judgment ; it was unfavour
able to the Bishop, but very much milder in tone
than had been expected, and a great relief upon the
whole to his friends. It had been thought worth
while through the whole proceeding to consult Pat
teson and myself, and we all three had considered
carefully, (what Keble called the Sevrepos -TrXows,)
the course to be pursued by the Bishop in case a
suspension should be awarded. Keble's opinion was
that the Bishop should not stand out on what he
might consider his strict right, but act charitably
and submit : —
" His course," he said, " I apprehend should be to sub
mit to his suspension, and remain in Dundee, visiting and
school keeping, and doing works of mercy, but refraining
from any Episcopal Act. Then his Clergy, whom he thinks
very much of, might keep their places, and his witness
would be borne to the truth."
I need scarcely say that in advice such as this
Patteson and I heartily concurred, and it is cause

460 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
of much thankfulness to me that our excellent friend
has been for many years, and still is engaged in the
discharge of his duties pastoral and episcopal1 in
Dundee and Brechin, to the great comfort and profit
of those over whom he is set. And I can scarcely
doubt that even those who differed from him most
widely and most warmly, must be thankful now that
no such victory was obtained by them as might have
led to a schism in their small body.
For a long time the name of Elizabeth Keble had
appeared- but little, and seldom in his letters ; her
life flowed on in an even course, and much as he
consulted her, and was probably influenced by her,
yet all she said or did was in so quiet a way as to
be little noticeable ; and her health, never strong, was
yet not interrupted by violent illnesses, as was the
case with Mrs. Keble's.
But from this time a change began ; in truth her
heavenly Father was preparing her and him too by
more direct notices for the summons, which she was
about to receive. I have no doubt both interpreted
the indications correctly. I am sure he did, though
he clung to every little apparent amendment with
natural fondness. It was not very long, however,.
before her course was ended, and I shall extract
what he wrote about her during the interval.
On the 4th of April, 1 860, he says : —
" My two Companions, especially my Sister, seem to me
almost always this winter more or less on the edge of illness,

Illness and Death of Elizabeth Keble. 4.61
but have hitherto been kept from being quite ill, except
Elizabeth's weakness, which is sometimes extreme, may be
counted for an illness.''
She had somewhat mended as the weather grew
more genial, but it was the flickering lighting-up of
a sinking patient : —
" She gets out," he says, on June 28, "in a sort of Bath
Chair almost every day, but is very weak, and has a regular
nurse, besides her servant. Tom staid, I think, 3 Sundays
here, and it was such a comfort. My wife is about as she
has been. I fear as things are, it will be hardly right for us
to go a visiting this summer ; if we do, I trust we shaU get
to you, at least for a short time. How strangely things
seem to be twisting themselves both in Church and State.
Ever your loving and hurried, J. K."
On July 16, he begins a very short note thus, (my
dear sister's 70th birthday). " Dearest Coleridge 
Elizabeth continues much as yesterday, not quite so
comfortable." She died on the 7th of August, and on the same
day he wrote to me thus : —
" Dearest dear Friend,
" Our sweet sister left us this morning, having been ap
parently on the verge of departure for ten days or more,
during which time, and to some extent before it, she could
be hardly said to have fuU consciousness at any time 
The last 18 hours were nearly aU spent in sleep, like that of
a little chUd, tiU at 9.20 this morning, with the very slightest
start, but with no expression, that I could see, of pain or

462 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
distress, she was gone. I, indeed, did not see it, though I
was very near her, reading now and then a verse from some
Psalm, (which had all along been what she was feeling after).
I fancied she still breathed, and went on for a while ; at last
I doubted it, and asked the Nurse, who said ' she has been
gone this quarter of an hour,' so you may judge how quiet
it was, and from the nature of the iUness we had greatly
feared it might have been otherwise. . . . She will be buried
here, D. V., next Saturday, not far from dear little Godfrey
Heathcote, so that it will yet seem for the short time that
remains very like going to Church with her daily ; and one
ought to be very thankful that it is so, for it would be a
strange world to one, dear friend, to be altogedier without
ker ; for 20 years of health, and 50 of sickness, always at
hand, or always within reach ; and never a look, nor a word,
that I know of, but was wise and kind, with the true kind
ness and wisdom. Only it makes an old man's heart sink
to reflect what one might have been, with such helps, and
many many more, and what one really is. One comfort is,
that those helps, and you among the rest, will remember
one all the more earnestly. I have never thanked you for
your last loving letter, which will now be worth two to me,
so entirely had you realized what has happened. Mrs.
Bliss, as you know, has been most kind and helpful ; I wish
she were not going. The Heathcotes come here the 18"1;
with all's love to all, ever yours, J. K."
There is surely something very solemn and affect
ing in the picture which Keble has here drawn of
himself kneeling by the side of this dear and saintly
sister's deathbed, from time to time slowly reading
a verse of a psalm, which her parting spirit was, as
he expresses it, "feeling after." And if she ceased

Illness of Mrs. Keble. 463
to breathe while he continued to read, is it pre
sumptuous, or irreverent, or unreasonable, to believe
that she might still hear the familiar words, it may
be with a new and enlarged apprehension, and more
unmixed delight ; and, it may be, still see the loved
brother ; not hearing, nor seeing, as we hear and
see, but perceiving by a clearer and purer intuition
all the meaning of the words of inspiration which
he uttered.
The nursing, and the parting with Elizabeth, had
pressed heavily on Mrs. Keble's feeble frame, and
very soon after the funeral Keble was constrained
to take her to Dawlish, and there they remained for
some weeks, close to the sea ; but she was more help
less than usual in her illnesses, both as to breathing
and walking, and recovered but very slowly. He
was himself a good deal depressed when he wrote
to me on the 29th of August, from No. 12, Marine
Parade, there : —
" I have," says he, " a sort of awful, yet soothing impres
sion of it all ; will you pray that it may never leave me ;
but you cannot imagine how quickly I forget. We think of
staying here a week longer, in hope that by that time C.
wUl be a Httle recruited; and then going on to Vineyard
and Brooking."
The proposed stay at Dawlish was prolonged,
owing to renewed illnesses of Mrs. Keble, nearly all
through September, and it was not until early in
October that he dated his letters from Brooking.

464 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
The loss of his sister was a heavy blow to him,
but I need not enlarge on. it; he has himself in his
letter stated in few words all the circumstances that
made it so great a trial. Nor was it the only be
reavement which he had within a short time sus
tained. Just when his sister's illness was becoming
a source of anxiety, Charles Dyson's declining state
of health had terminated in his death ; and this was
in many ways a great affliction to Keble. Nothing
could be heartier than the love he had for this friend
of his youth, or more entire than the confidence he
reposed in this counsellor of his maturer years. He
could ill afford to lose such an elder brother now,
when he had been bereaved in succession of so many
whom he loved and leaned on ; it seemed to leave
him so nearly alone. In an early part of my memoir
I have spoken of Dyson, his death, and funeral. At
the gathering which then took place, the setting up
a memorial had been agreed on, and Keble ber
stirred himself with pious assiduity in collecting the
necessary contributions, and helping to determine
on the manner in which it should be carried out.
Finally this was effected by placing two stained-glass
windows in the parish church of Dogmersfield, and
in settling the designs for these he took a principal
part. I may add before I leave this mention of
Dyson, that it was a concurrent thought of Mrs.
Keble and Mrs. Dyson, joyfully accepted by Keble
that Mrs. and Miss Dyson should take shelter

Death of Dyson. 465

under his wing in the old parsonage at Hursley for
the winter, while the arrangements for a new habi
tation for them at Church Crookham in the neigh
bourhood of Dogmersfield should be completed. This
plan was carried into effect, to the great delight of
the Kebles, and the comfort of the bereaved widow
and sister.
In their way from Brooking to Bisley and their
home, the Kebles came to us on the 5 th of Octo
ber, which was on a Friday, and left us on the fol
lowing Monday. These short visits it is now very
pleasant and touching to remember; and I refresh
my recollection of the particulars by my memoranda
made at the time. I see I noticed his peculiarly
kind and loving manner ; as we parted on the Mon
day, he turned his cheek to me to kiss it. My
entry concludes with a hope " that I might be spared
for another such meeting, and that I might have
wisdom to seek the opportunity more frequently
than I had done." Wisdom alas, which indolence
and procrastination, and engagements more fancied
than real, prevented me from acting upon as I might
have done. He preached in our church on the 7th
of October ; my comment at the time was this : —
" One of those truly Christian sermons, opening out the
Scripture, full of citations from it, going directly to the
heart that Vould open to receive it ; affectionate, earnest,
true, and high ; but very simple, very unadorned, just as
I suppose St. John might have preached when an old
H H

466 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
man, and one which perhaps the mere itching ear would
receive with indifference, and the mere literary intellectu-
alist despise."
I have ventured to transcribe this, because I really
think now that it is not an inaccurate account of his
parochial sermons generally.
Thus characteristically he wrote of his little stay
with us on his arrival at Bisley : —
" It is no use for me to pretend to thank you properly for
all your love and kindness to my dear wife and myself, so I
must be content with loving you more and more, and you
in this passage means, ' te cum tuis.' It was quite spoiling,
and high time to come away."
This has been a melancholy chapter in respect of
the bereavements and trials with which it pleased
God to visit Keble at this time, and it must end in
the same strain. The winter of 1 860-1, was passed
at Hursley ; in the early part of the summer Mrs,
Keble's cough drove them to Sea View in the Isle of
Wight. He knew that I was anxiously watching the
close of my dear brother Patteson's long and hope
less illness ; and he entirely sympathized with me.
Comparatively speaking, there had been personal in
tercourse between the two only at long intervals,
and then only for short periods ; nor did they cor
respond ; but Keble had a very great regard for him,
and the very highest opinion of him.
On the 2nd of June he wrote to me from Hursley :•—
" Being here for a Sunday while my wife and nephew,

Death of Patteson. 467
and three children, are at Sea View, I am going to try and
write you a regular letter, for indeed I long to talk with
you, and wish I could see you. Yet it seems almost pro
fane to interrupt you with any kind of talk in your present
employment, which must keep you so consciously on that
edge where we all are. It does seem most soothing to
think of dear Patteson from time to time, and of his child-
Uke unconsciousness that he was anything out of the com
mon, which must now seem more than ever like a gift
from above."
On the 28th of June this great lawyer and judge,
and good man, was summoned to his rest. Keble,
to whom I communicated the intelligence, wrote to
me thus on the 3rd of July : —
" I am shocked to think that so many posts have gone,
and I have not told you any part of my thoughts about you
and dear Patteson ; about yourself I think most, for it wUl
be such a sad gap to you; one feels that nothing in this
world can make it up. As for him, he seems too high and
noble for one even to try and follow in imagination. I
should like always to connect him in memory with ' the
righteous hath hope in his death,' hope in this world as
well as there. Does it not seem like a sign from Heaven,
that just before his going he did, as it were, receive the
message that God had accepted his son, whom he 'had
lent unto the Lord' for as long as he should live ? One
comfort in thinking of him, at least to a man with a bad
memory like mine, is that there was something so very dis
tinctive in him, traits and tones to make an impression to
be remembered all one's life even by one who now regrets
more than ever that he had not seen more of him."

468 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Keble here alludes to the manner in which Pat*
teson had devoted his eldest son to God's service,
With the fullest sense of his own loss, yet with the
most unhesitating heartiness he had given up one
who was dearer to him than life. He gave him up
at a time when his presence was most cheering, and
his help much needed and readily afforded, he being
in charge of a small Chapelry within short walking
distance from Feniton Court. No father and son
could be more tenderly united, none could feel sepa
ration more sensibly, but neither wavered for an in
stant in their resolution. The son parted from his
aged father in 1855, never to see him again on this
side the grave ; and he has never re-visited England
since. It was a great pleasure and gratification to
his father very shortly before his own death to hear
of his son's consecration as Missionary Bishop to the
South Sea Islands ; in which office he has ever since
laboured unceasingly, under what trials, and through
¦ what dangers, and with what success, I must not in
this place attempt to describe.

CHAPTER XIX.
KEBLE'S SELF-DISSATISFACTION, AND THOUGHTS OF
RESIGNATION. — OXFORD LOCAL EXAMINATIONS.
— MRS. KEBLE'S ALARMING ILLNESS. — MOVE TO
SEA VIEW. — FIRST VISIT TO PENZANCE. — BISHOP
WILSON'S LIFE COMPLETED. — CHURCH DISCIPLINE.
— COURT OF FINAL APPEAL IN CASES OF DOC
TRINE. — BISHOP OF WINCHESTER'S CHARGE. —
COMMENTARY ON THE BIBLE.— -FIRST STAY AT
PENZANCE. — RETURN TO HURSLEY. — JUDGMENT
IN LONG V. BISHOP OF CAPETOWN. — FIRST VISIT
TO TORQUAY IN JANUARY, 1 864 — SECOND STAY
AT PENZANCE, APRIL, 1 864.
KEBLE began the year 1862 in good health, and
quiet spirits, yet somewhat anxious on one or
two subjects, and a little dispirited at heart. There
seems to have been a visible change for the worse
in Mrs. Keble's health ; the state of his parish did
not satisfy him ; (and the accounts he received from
Oxford, especially in regard to the " Essays and
Reviews," at one time so much talked of, troubled
him. Mrs. Keble's decline, indeed, was not so marked
at the very beginning of the year, though even then
he notices that she was " a poor hand at locomotion

470 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
of any kind," and was indebted for what she had " to
Jack the Donkey," whom she drove. But I will ex
tract parts of his first letter for the year, dated on
the First Sunday after the Epiphany : —
" I had rather," says he, "wish you joy of the Peace, and
of the good feeling towards the Queen, and ask you when
you are going to take us and Heathcote, as your duty is, in
the way to or from London. Time steals on, and I am
now ' in the seventy of mine age,' and I suppose it would
be a wholesome thing, if one could always feel as if every
visit, and every letter might be the last. But really my
health is wonderful, as it has been all my life. What a
talent to account for, alas ! . . .
" I cannot give a good account of my parish, people are
sadly disappointing, and neither 'tine religion, nor useful
learning,' appear to me to flourish and abound. I often
think that ' tempus abire tibi est,' — do think of it for me
a little calmly, — and yet I creep on from day to day, fancy
ing that perhaps I may do better, and quite ashamed to
think of the condition in which my successor would find
things, if I were to make a vacancy at present. ' Too late,
too late,' are the words that haunt me from morning to
night ; and sometimes I wish I had been at a public school,
that I might be a man of business-, and get on with thmgs
as I ought. You must not imagine though that I am low-
spirited, I am only too jolly ; but this is the point of view
in which I see things- when I consider them calmly. 0
wretched Self, how durst thou take up all this paper. Well,
God bless you and yours in both hemispheres, dearest
friend, prays J. K."
These despondent remarks about himself, partly

Self -dissatisfaction. 47 r
perhaps attributable to transient depression of spirits,
were however characteristic of him, and his abiding
humility ; but I reminded him in answer, of what he
had said on other occasions, that it was not for us to
measure ourselves by what we seem to effect in the
path before us ; that results are not in our hands,
and that in his line this is especially true ; we
do not always know for certain what they are, we
can neither measure the failures nor the successes ;
that much good may have been effected which no
human eye will ever see, much which will appear
only after a long interval. I wrote very strongly
against his notion of retirement, and I heard no
more of it ; until some time after, when the necessity
for long absences from Hursley was more pressing,
and threatening to recur more often, and when there
fore there was more ground for consideration of the
question. His letter had touched on some other 'points, one
in particular, the Oxford Local Examinations, the
results of which he appeared to contemplate un
easily. Not that he was unfavourable to advance
ment in the education of the middle classes, but
that he thought the religious element was either
neglected in this scheme, or even excluded. He did
not speak from personal knowledge, and I thought
his information not correct. I went, therefore, fully
into the subject with him according to the know
ledge which I then had. In the years that have

472 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
since passed my interest in the movement has never
flagged ; it has seemed to me that the original prin
ciple was both wise and benevolent, and that in some
particulars, which were perhaps objectionable,1 and
which have been now much modified, the motives of
the originators, and the University, were misunder
stood by their opponents. The fears which these last
entertained have, so far as I know, turned out to have
been groundless, or exaggerated, and the general re
sults have been good. I can hardly doubt that in
one respect they have been so ; the improvement
namely of schools and schoolmasters in the class
which certainly needed it. Still I think the time
has come for an enquiry as to the moral and intel
lectual effects of the experiment on young persons
of the middle class ; are they really more or less
informed, more or less advanced in morals and reli
gious habits ? The enquiry might be difficult, but
there are materials now for conducting it effectually,;
and it is surely very desirable to ascertain whether or
no this part of society has or has not been leavened
as one could wish by the system ; for it cannot be
but that some considerable results for good, or evil
have flowed from it. The whole matter is so im
portant that I shall be excused, I trust, for these
observations. My answer to Keble's letter, (to return,) was long,
and he knew I was unwell, and forbidden to write
much. I mention this only to account in some mea-

Illness of Mrs. Keble. 473
sure for the more than usual affectionateness of his
reply, which I do not like to suppress, and cannot
of course alter : —
" Dearest dear Coleridge,
" I am full of thoughts about you, very sorry to hear of
your trial, (only that by His blessing one feels sure how all
trials wiU turn out for you,) and very much wishing that I
could see you for at least an hour every day. But you
must not write me long letters. It will spoil the pleasure
of them to think of the result to yourself. I thank you for
this one all the same, it will do me I hope much good.
" C. was, indeed, very ill for a while last Monday Night.
The spasms on her chest so violent that I was quite fright
ened. Ether and hot steam in the room relieved her, and
she is now well enough to be downstairs great part of the
day, but very weak, and never sure but the gasping may
return. D. G. we have I think a very nice doctor in the
village, else I hardly know how we should have fared."
It seems to have been, indeed, a frightful attack.
From a later letter it appears it had been described
to him by his medical attendant as " spasmodic
asthma literally stopping the action of the arteries ;"
and well might he say that it was a providential
mercy that skilful relief was at hand in the village.
If he had been obliged to send to Romsey, and
wait for a medical man coming thence, the attack
must have ended fatally, as life could not have been
sustained for half an hour in the state in which at
one period she appears to have been.
The attack left her in great weakness, from which

474 Manoir of the Rev. John Keble.
she recovered slowly, and it was not until May that
she was strong enough to move for change of air,
even so far as the Isle of Wight. He wrote to me
on the 7th of that month from Sea View; he was
then still in continual apprehension of a return of
*' those dreadful spasms," and he was perhaps the
more sensitive in his feelings from having just met
Mrs. Cornish, and seeing her greatly shaken and
altered : —
" It really," says he, " makes one afraid and ashamed to
think of one's own (now 70) years of uninterrupted health,
along with the sufferings of so many persons so unlike one
self. It would be a charity if people would sometimes in
their Litanies pray for the very healthy, very prosperous,
¦very lighthearted, very much bepraised, &c 
" Now give our love to your wife and daughter, and such
other belongings as are near you, and to dear Devonshire
with its primroses, which it must be hard work for the
Pixies to count this year; and believe me ever (I hope)
yours, J. K."
They returned to Hursley in June, Mrs. Keble in
a very precarious and uncertain state : —
"She came home," he says, writing on the 13th of June,
" on Wednesday week, certainly the better for the sea, &c,
but far from well ; that, indeed, we dare not look for in this
world. Since then she has not fallen off, except for the last
few days ; her breath was the worse for something in the
weather on Tuesday, and she has hardly got back to the
same point again. But she coughs very little, and writes,
and reads, and plays, and keeps accounts; she cannot

Visit to Penzance. 475

teach, or visit cottages, but drives out, wind and weatlier
permitting ; her going to Church is exceptional."
In this state of her health he was wisely advised
to consult high medical authority in London, and he
did so, Dr. Williams. The result he communicated
to Mr. Wilson, and to me, which it is unnecessary to
state in detail. But one particular was the posi
tive forbiddance to remain at Hursley during the
winter ; it was recommended to winter abroad, but
Devon and Cornwall were acquiesced in ; and after
some hesitation Keble determined in the first in
stance to try Penzance.
He wrote to me on the 8th of October from that
place. They had rested in their way at Plymouth,
refusing all solicitations to stop anywhere else ; and
the first effects of the change to Penzance were so
promising, that he sent home for his heavy luggage,
and resolved to pass the winter there. He announces
his resolution to me characteristically enough : —
"Her breath is relieved, and her walking powers im
proved ; she walked along this Esplanade, and looked over
the lodgings upstairs and down without being fatigued, and
then enjoyed a three hours' drive, and it was altogether
summerish and delightful. On Sunday she went to the
full morning Service ; and it was what my Sister would
have caUed 'a very pleasant Church.' For these and other
reasons, including the goodness of certain mackerel and
apples, &c, that we have made acquaintance with, we
have made up our minds to try a winter here, and have

476 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
sent for our heavy luggage, which we had left on tlie
road. . . .
" What a beautiful and comfortable circumstance it is of
this great development of our Missions, that quiet people
are come naturally without thinking of it, or writing in
a tone, to pour out their hearts mutually to those whom
they suppose to be like-minded, from the other side of the
world ; just as the old folks did in the very old centuries.
S. Cyprian, (e.g.) not to mention S. Paul. I say this apropos
to the South Pacific, and South African Letters, which have
been so much of our reading of late. It really does seem
to help one in a very special way to realize the Communion
of Saints, and to feel (D.V.) one not only with the distant
living, but with the holy dead. What a comforting thought
(among many more) for those who were mainly instrumental
in the Colonial Episcopate at first 
"Your calling  a 'middle rate' biographer, makes
a certain friend of yours wince ; you can easily guess why.
I do hope at any rate that will be soon off my hands 
"I wish you could see the Mount as I do now every time
I look up from my writing, with the tenderest of hazy light
and shade upon it. We have got a kind cousin, Fanny
Coxwell, to help take care of C, and a very great little
comfort she is. And so with dear love to you all, I am as
ever your lazy and affectionate, J. K."
Their first house was chosen with special reference
to Mrs. Keble, "in the very best position," says he,
"for seeing the whole of Mount's Bay, and feeling
and hearing all that the wild waves had to tell us."
Indeed, they soon found that the wild waves had
somewhat too much to tell them, and they were

Visit to Penzance. 477

obliged to move to a house higher up, and more
distant from them. But he took intense and never-
failing delight in that most beautiful Bay, sweeping
round on his right, with a shore gently rising from
the sea ; and guarded as it were by St. Michael's
Mount nearly in his front, crowned with the stately
and picturesque castle and church on its summit.
I have no doubt that the view was a never-failing
delight to him ; and to him, a mere Saxon, there
was interest in the novelty, almost the strangeness,
of the Cornish race, their language, and customs.
But more than this; as they prolonged their stay,
they were touched with the hearty kindness with
which they were received, especially by the clergy ;
the impression which his first Sunday had made on
him was deepened by more familiar intercourse, and
so far as he could be, he got reconciled to the en
forced absence from Hursley.
The allusion to his Wilson gave me great plea
sure, much increased when, on the 22nd of Novem
ber, he wrote : —
"What you will be glad to hear of, the last sheet of Bp.
Wilson's Life is gone to the press, and only a little correc
tion and some notes, with a smaU part of the Preface, re
main to be done. I only wish any body may have the
same pleasure in reading, that I have had in writing it; but
that of course is a romantic idea. Suppose it, however, to
do some of the kind of good one would wish, what will that
be to having been a beginner and prime agent in the Co-

478 Memoir of tke Rev. John Keble.
lonial Episcopate Fund ; the fruit of which, by God's great
blessing, we are allowed to see more and more."
This was his too kind way of alluding to my ex
ceedingly small services as one of the Treasurers of
the Fund he speaks of ; but I do not pass it by in
silence, because in the beginning he had for some
reason looked rather coldly on the movement ; and
it was and is a great pleasure to me now to recall
with what a different feeling he grew to regard it.
Early in 1863 the Life of Bishop Wilson was pub
lished, and it formed in two parts the first of seven
volumes, which contain, I believe, a complete collec
tion of the Bishop's works. They are part of the
series of the Anglo-Catholic Library, and certainly
no English Churchman's library ought to be without
them. It is now well known how shamefully the
Sacra Privata were treated by those who first pro
fessed to give them to the public ; treated so, I fear,
for party purposes. Keble was very earnest in re
storing that work to its integrity. Much had been
already done in that way, and in presenting it in an
attractive and convenient form before his volume ap
peared ; but he still looked on what he had done for
it with more satisfaction than was usual with him as
to anything on which he had been employed. He
was not given to praise his own performances ; but I
remember he said to me once that his volume might
be less attractive in appearance, and less portable,
and so less convenient for a manual, but that it

Life of Bishop Wilson published. 479
would be found, he believed, the most correct and
full edition which had yet seen the light. As the
Bishop's character was one which he most admired
and loved, so this work was a special delight to him,
and justly so. Many persons, I fear, are deterred
from becoming familiar with it, because at first sight
it seems to have so much to do with the writer
exclusively in his character of Bishop, and they
suppose, therefore, it can have little application to
themselves ; but let them persevere, and if I mis
take not, they will not only be moved with the
unconsciously-drawn picture of so much goodness,
greatness, and holiness, but find also abundance of
that which is practical for themselves. Indeed, there
is a homely affectionate simplicity in everything
which Wilson writes of this sort, that makes it spe
cially fitting for the purposes of a Christian Manual.
It will have been seen how Keble speaks of the
pleasure he had had in writing the Life ; it was with
him truly a labour of love; he wrote it carefully,
and it is, I believe, perfectly trustworthy, telling
us all that can be known of Wilson, and considerably
more than was known before. Still it is thought to
labour under the fault of being long-some ; its very
fulness may have contributed to this ; in truth, it
tells more than ordinary readers may care to know
of its subject.
1 My readers will have long ago seen what were
Keble's opinions respecting Church discipline; it

480 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
was unfortunate, I think, for the work, that Bishop
1 Wilson not only felt about this as strongly, and in
the same way, but laboured during nearly the whole
of his episcopate to enforce its practice. On these
sustained efforts Keble naturally dwells with in
terest, and in much detail. It seems to me with
great deference, that the conclusion in his mind
might have been, (and I am not sure that it was
not,) that however desirable, indeed however a duty
of strict obligation in itself, it was hopeless to at
tempt a revival of it in our days, and in our country.
If a bishop such as Wilson, so able, so venerated,
and so loved, could not succeed in a diocese so small
as that of Man, with a population so much more
simple than our own, what could be hoped for in
England at this time ? But beyond this, I cannot
say that even in the instances in which what is
called success is recorded, I see very satisfactory
evidence of real success. The power of the Church,
indeed, was maintained in the particular instances;
she did punish the evil-doers, and they submitted ;
but the impression left on the reader's mind is that
the submission was too often made in order to es
cape the continuing temporal inconvenience rather
than that the penance ended in real penitence.
"Non hoc tempus Censurae" was the saying of
Tiberius, when it was proposed to revive that office
in vigour ; certainly an adviser whom one would not
listen to without distrust ; yet to attempt the re-

Life of Bishop Wilson. 481
form of manners in Imperial Rome by the Censor
ship, and in the Christian Church by Ecclesiastical
Discipline, have this in common, that the one and
the other were equally but means to an end, and
that end in many respects the same. Now the
fitness of means must depend very much on the
circumstances under which they are to be used ;
what might be available and good in the early days
of Rome, and of the Church respectively, might be
far otherwise in the days of Tiberius, or those on
which we are fallen. I speak it with diffidence and
unfeigned respect for my dear friend, with whom
these subjects were a life-long study; but it even
seems to me a fallacy to refer everything as he did
to the standard of the Primitive Church ; and to be
unwise, because unpractical. If I am asked what
I would substitute for the ancient Discipline, I feel
how utterly unfit I am to answer the question ; and
with that feeling on my mind I yet venture to say
that the pastoral care, and the influence under God's
blessing on it, of a really laborious, learned, self-
denying, prayerful, and exemplary clergy, may be at
least more practical, and at all events it is that with
out which all other means must fail.
I have been led astray from my proper subject,
Keble's Life of Bishop Wilson. I shall have done
it injustice, if I leave my readers with an unfavour
able impression of it on the whole. He might, in
deed, no one more successfully, have caught his
inspiration from Isaac Walton, and left us a tale to
I i

482 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
be bound up with his immortal narratives. I wish
he had ; but I cannot wish he had not written this
Life, for it is the storehouse of facts, faithfully re
corded, in which is contained all that can be known
of an Apostolic Bishop ; to which, indeed, whoever
desires to write something more popular must, and
may safely, have recourse for his materials.
Yet there was a branch of this subject on which I
could not and cannot but think there was much real
ground "for Keble's uneasiness. I mean that a modern
Statute should have placed in the, hands ofthe Judi
cial Committee ofthe Privy Council, assisted by two
or three of the bishops, not selected for personal fit
ness as judges, but in virtue of their sees, the final
decision of questions touching the doctrine and disci
pline of the Church. Even if the Committee were
necessarily composed of Churchmen, there would be
the question, whether such matters are properly to
tie adjudicated on by laymen ; but it is well-known,
that among its members may be those who are con
scientiously, or otherwise, not only alien from the
Church, but opposed to it. And the evil has this
peculiarity in it, to which attention should be drawn.
Where any court has jurisdiction to determine the
point directly iri issue before it, it has necessarily
for the purpose of arriving at its determination, juris
diction to decide oh any point collaterally arising, the
decision of which is necessary to the determination
of the point at issue. Thus a single judge and jury
at the Assizes have jurisdiction to try an action for

Judicial Committee of Privy Council. 483
libel; suppose a beneficed clergyman should sue in
such an action for the publication of a writing which
imputed to him that he had taught something in
derogation of one of the Articles ; it might become
necessary on the trial not only to decide on the fact
of publication, and the meaning ofthe language used,
but also the meaning of the Article alleged to have
been derogated from. Rightly or wrongly the judge
would have in that case to lay down the law of the
Church ; and if he interpreted the Article wrongly, he
would for the time, and for the purpose of the cause,
impose a new doctrine; but neither his ruling, nor
the judgment consequent on it, would bind judge or
court, bishop or clerk, in any other case. The Judicial
Committee, on the other hand, often takes cognisance
of the doctrine directly and as the point in issue ;
and it does so in the last resort ; its decision binds
every court, and even itself ; so that if it should hap
pen to determine certain propositions not to be con
trary to the Articles, or vice versa, however mani
festly wrong or dangerous the decision, those pro
positions might be maintained and preached by any
incumbent to his flock with impunity ; and to preach
propositions logically contradictory of them might
subject an incumbent to prosecution and its conse
quences. It cannot be doubted that this would prac
tically be very much the same thing as making a
new doctrine for the Church. There are some, it is
said an increasing number, to whom this gives no

484 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
pain, because they hold doctrine to be of little im
portance ; but even these, if candid, would admit that
it must be very grievous to those who hold, as Chris
tians in general do, and have done from the begin
ning, that definiteness and truth in doctrine are essen
tial to the Church in the discharge of her function,
as keeper of the Faith, and teacher of the people.
Keble was one of these, and the matter touched
his conscience. The judgment in what is known as
the "Essays and Reviews" Case gave him, in all its
circumstances, as well as the decision itself, great
pain, and he wrote several letters to me ; for he
rightly enough had no scruples in doing so merely
because I was a member of the committee. He
was not always accurate in his knowledge, and I
think he did not see at first all the difficulties of
forming an unexceptionable tribunal ; nor did I
always agree with his inferences or propositions.
I do not think I should do any good by printing
the whole correspondence ; but I may perhaps re
vive the attention of those who might do good, by
quoting some extracts from his letters to shew what
a real grievance to men like him still exists : —
" Penzance, ;
"fan" 7, 1863.
" Dearest Coleridge,
"Thank you for your kind letter, and patience in ex
plaining to me all the difficulties of the case. I have no
doubt it is full of difficulty, but then I consider that Law-

" Essays and Reviews" Case. 485
yers and Statesmen are the very people to whom one is to
complain of one's difficulties, as one tells a Doctor when one
is iU. I do hope that our friends in those professions will
believe that we are really ill, (so to speak,) and not mere
valetudinarians. I hope they will give themselves no rest
till they have thoroughly looked into the matter, and either
devised something which will not positively hinder the
Church from executing its commission, as the present Law
does, or ascertained and reported that no such course can
be adopted consistently with the present relations of the
Church to the State. Until one of these two things is
done, there must be perpetual ' fears and jealousies,' until
we waked up some morning and found ourselves without
Creed or Discipline, — without Discipline we are indeed at
present. " Don't suppose that I am setting up my judgment on
the legal and political view ; I am really thinking, or trying
to think, of the souls which, I believe, are daily and hourly
perishing through disregard of our Lord's Ordinance. I
would thankfully make use of qualified Laymen to any ex
tent, consistently with the ' Discipline of Christ,' to which
we are all sworn, and the grace for which is given us, if we
are worthy, at our ordination, in our several degrees. These
miserable Essay and Review Cases, more I think than any
thing which has happened, have brought out the fact, that the
present Law of England absolutely quashes that Discipline,
and also that other fact, that acquiescence in such a state
of things is fast tending, as I said, to nullify our Creed. I
should think something might be done ; your reference to
the Bishops, for instance, or what was it that Bp. Blom-
field. proposed ? But do you really think that a Clergyman
aware of aU this should not complain of it, unless he can
suggest the forms of a Parliamentary Remedy? Among

486 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
other effects of things as they are, Dr. Wiseman, &c, are
making a good deal of gain, as you doubtless know better
than I."
What Keble calls my "reference to the Bishops,"
was a suggestion I had thrown out, and of which I
still think something might be made, that in order to
separate the fact, including the mere construction of
the language charged to be heretical, from the doc
trine itself, the Committee might ascertain the two
former, and then refer to a Court of bishops to state
the doctrine, and applying that to the finding of the
Committee, certify the conclusion on the issue to
the Committee, which should be binding on it. This
seemed to me a way to give to each branch of the
tribunal what it was most competent to perform satis
factorily, relieve the minds of Churchmen, and1, as
far as could be, keep the doctrine of the Church from
change. Lawyers will know that my hint was bor
rowed from the practice, now obsolete,, of trial by
the Bishop's Certificate, of which some account will
be found in Blackstone's "Commentaries," vol. iii.
p. 335, and also from the practice of the House of
Lords to put questions to the Judges on a state
ment of facts which the House deems to be cardims
causce; and usually though not necessarily, to de
cide the case according to the answers given.
But I was of opinion, (and this I ought not to
withhold now,) that nothing could be hopefully de
vised to forward Keble's views, until the clergy were

" Essays and Reviews" Case. 487
to some extent educated in law, and accustomed by
some training, as hearers at least, to the practice of
courts ; it seemed to me that the most learned divine
eould not be fit to act as judge, without that training
or experience which is so essential to constitute the
judicial habit of mind.
Keble wrote to me subsequently on this subject
thus : — " Penzance,
Jan. 8, '63.
" My dearest Coleridge,
" Suppose I was to dream such a dream as what follows,
would it have any meaning or no ?
" That six or 8 men, good and true, were sitting cosily
together some time before Parliament meets, and that their
initials were such as J. T. C, W. H., W. E. G., R. P., R. Ph.,
E. B. P., S. O., &c, &c.
" That it were represented to them somehow what an un
constitutional position the Church of England is in. It is as
a corporation having its own bye-laws, which to it are funda
mental, and which the State professes to respect. Among
those laws are, —
" Ist. All must hold a certain prescribed Faith, or be ex
cluded from the Society.
" 2. The measure of that Faith is, ' Quod semper, quod
ubique,' &c, being also scriptural.
"3. The Judicial Power in regard of alleged offences
against tliis Faith has been entrusted by the Founder
of the Society to persons nominated by Him for the
purpose.
*' But our present Statute Law, —
" 1. Virtually annuls the penalty, viz. Excommunication.

488 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
" 2. Substitutes, in the case of Clerks, (the only case in
which it allows the Church to take cognizance of
any such offence,) another rule, a certain Statute
of Q. Elizabeth.
" 3. Takes the judgment and decree out of the hands of
those ordained by the Founder, and sworn by the
order of the State itself, to administer in such causes.
" Then I might perhaps go on and dream that the said
revered and highly-valued initials were set to a sentence
allowing that there is more or less of truth and reason in the
said complaints, and that the grievances are real grievances.
" And of course I could not then doubt that they would
lay their heads together to consider what should be done.
"Would it be beyond the absurdity allowable even in
one's sleep, if I dreamed again and fancied them consider
ing about an experiment in mitigation of the mischief ?
" r. Whether it is impossible to obtain a law taking away
all temporal penalties, annexed to excommunication, and
leaving the Church really free to enforce its own rubric
and canons in case of notorious sin or unbelief. Might not
something analogous to a trial by jury be invented in aid of
the Bishops?
" 2. Might there not be a declaratory Act to the effect
that the Formularies must always be interpreted agreeably
to Holy Scripture and general consent, (as in the Act of
the Ist of Elizabeth the decrees of CEcumenical councils
were made part of the measure of Henry ?) To which Act
the assent of Convocation should be obtained, and recited
as in the Act of Uniformity.
" 3. After providing in the completest way for perfect in
vestigation and exact legality, still might not the Bishops in
Provincial Council, with full publicity to all their proceed
ings, be made judges in the last resort ?

" Essays and Reviews" Case. 489
"I am much mistaken if the errors of such a system
would not be, (as they had better be,) entirely on tlie side
of leniency; especially considering how the Bishops are
appointed. " But it would save the point of principle, and take off
the strain on our consciences.
" My dream, if it went on, and found that nothing could
be done, would be a very frightful one ; for it would exhibit
our Church in no long time reduced to the alternative of
voluntaryism, or unbehef.
" Lucidly it is but a dream, and as such I hope harmless.
" Pardon it from your loving friend, J. K."
Keble agreed in what I wrote respecting the pre
sent insufficient training of the clergy for this pur
pose, and the greater fitness at present of laymen
in this respect, whose interference he would by no
means have rejected : —
" But what," said he, " if those who appoint Bishops in
sisted on this quality of a judicial mind, and an education
to prepare them in some tolerable way for that kind of
work ? Would not such a demand in no long time produce
a supply, as you seem to say it did in old times ?"
One point, however, it would have been out of his
nature to give up : —
" I want," said he, dating from Penzance on January 15,
1863, "to explain one or two things in which I fear I seem
to you and other legal friends more absurd than I need.
One is, that it is not only nor chiefly for want of theological
learning that one objects to Laymen as final judges in ques-

49° Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
tions of doctrme and spiritual discipline, but because one
believes that such judgments are divinely entrusted to the
Apostles and their successors, even as- the Powers of oiden;
and that they are specially endowed for the work ; not so,
of course, as to exclude the duty of availing themselves of
all providential helps, of which one of the greatest will be
the advice and instruction which I quite beheve nothing
but a legal education can supply. Just as in interpreting
the language of Scripture, they are bound to avaU them
selves of the opinions of the best Scholars ; but they canr
not transfer to them the right of authoritative interpreta
tion, because they cannot transfer the responsibility. It is
a burthen laid upon them, and they must bear it."
He closes a long reply to me in this somewhat
sad way : —
" Don't trouble yourself, dear friend, to answer this long
prose. I foresee that very few would interest themselves in
my scruples, so I shall keep them with my forebodings, as well
as I can, to myself. If I was 20 years younger, I might in
time be fit to talk and write on such things. As it is, I feel
I ought to be otherwise employed. Yet I hope my fear is
not mistrust of His goodness, but I say to myself, what if
we are being punished for not keeping our deposit 1
" Ever yours, with love to all, J. K."
So for the time ended our correspondence on this
subject, but not his thought or anxiety about it.
It is one of so much importance, as yet unsettled,
and one on which we may confidently say some set*
tlement must be made, that I have been the fuller on
it. It seems important, that whenever it is seriously

Commentary on the Bible. 49 1
considered, this side of it, to which mere lawyers may
be disposed to attach little importance, should at all
events be brought into view.
I part with this subject, though it must be con
sidered as one never long out of Keble's mind so
long as he lived, and revived by him from time to
time in his letters.
It was shortly before he wrote the last letter, that
I received one from him, from which I extract the
following passage : —
"I have only just got our Bishop's Charge, and it is
really admirable to my mind, better even than the News
papers led me to expect ; better, I think, as a composition.
There was often a sort of strain in what he wrote and
preached, wliich in this he seems to have quite got rid of;
and then as to the matter, it is very instructive ; and the
tone is so firm yet so candid. I am very thankful, and
hope to be the better for it, though it is rather late to
mend ; but no more of that."
Almost before he was relieved from the Wilson
burthen, it seems that the living Wilson had ven
tured to remind him of the Commentary on the
Bible. I am not sure to what extent Keble had
engaged himself at all in this work, nor for what
part of the book. He shrunk from engaging at
once in a new labour, and wisely now; though he
did not disclaim the obligation, nor ever entirely re
nounce all hope of fulfilling it to some extent. At
an earlier period there was no task I think in which

492 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
he would have worked with more pleasure to him
self, none for which he was more fitted : —
" Pray don't begin," writes he to Mr. Wilson, " talking
and speculating about Commentary. I have not yet written
a word, and at my age, and according to the scale of other
people's work, it really seems quite idle to think of such
a thing. But for honour's sake, I suppose I must try, and
it will be too good for me if I am helped to do anything.
But you know I never could bear being looked at while I write.
I do so hate for any one to see how I hold my pen."
He begins this letter with a sentence which I can
not withhold from my readers : —
" Dearest Friends,
" It is, indeed, high time I should write to you, and yet
I am not at all sure that I should have been dutiful enough
to do so, if she, who is my Conscience, and my memory,
and my common sense, had been up to the work, but I am
sorry to say she is not."
Care for Mrs. Keble indeed, nursing her when
ill, interesting her when better, taking her out for
a drive, or a downhill walk, when alleviation of her
symptoms, or abatement of the cold permitted, oc
cupied much of his time, and more of his thoughts.
Her health fluctuated a good deal, and although
he still maintained that Penzance was warmer per
haps than any other place in England, she suffered
occasionally very much from a change of wind, or
such like winter casualty. And with the knowledge

Ministrations at Penzance. 493
he now had of her case, his best hope was that he
might be allowed to take her from Penzance not
worse than when he brought her there. I do not
suppose she was a hopeful patient, in the sense of
expecting a recovery ; but she was more than re
signed ; she was a cheerful one, bearing her part so
far as she could in their little circle, interested in all
that was done to interest her, and seeing, when she
could, some of the many kind people who were de
lighted to visit her and him, when allowed to do so.
And people were very kind to them, full of neigh
bourly attentions, sending such delicacies as grapes,
or wild fowl, or anything thought good for Mrs. Keble.
He found there a sister of his and my friend Mr.
Copeland, Mrs. Borlase, whom he specially mentions
for her kindness ; one who was a prisoner to her
house, or able only to take carriage drives, yet
" making," he says, " a bright sunshine all round her."
But what of course charmed him most, was his cor
dial and congenial reception from the Clergy ; in Mr.
Hedgeland and Mr. Tyacke he found two in whose
ministrations he could heartily join, and whose hearts
warmed towards him with a loving respect, and re
spectful love, which could not but delight his hum
ble and affectionate nature. This was a matter of
consequence to him, for he reluctantly bore to be
doing nothing in his vocation, while in forced exile
from his own Cure. He preached many times, as
often, indeed, as either of these had occasion for his

494 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
help. Mr. Hedgeland records of him, in a letter to
the "Guardian," that at his first visit he asked to
have some pastoral visiting assigned to him, and
characteristically wished it to be entirely among
the poor, and shrank from going among any who
would see in him the author of "The Christian
Year." On one or two occasions of public rejoicing
he supplied them with lines suitable for use as a
Hymn ; and attending a meeting of the Society for
Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts, he spoke
shortly and touchingly at its close, addressing him
self specially to some young children who had been
singing near him.
After his return home, Mr. Hedgeland had written
to him, sending him what Keble called "his fresh
kind present," and I will insert here, a little out of
its place in point of time, an extract from his ac
knowledgment." "June 13, 1863.
" My dear Mr. Hedgeland,
" The sight of your handwriting, and fresh kind present,
was very welcome indeed, and made me feel how wanting
I bad been in not doing sooner what I had been all the
while intending, to write to you a word of hearty thanks
for your and your parishioners' very great kindness to us.
•Such it was as must always, make the very bends and turn
ings of the streets, let alone the Mount and the Bay, and
the lanes and .flowers, and moors, and cairns, and crosses,
most pleasant to think of."
Mr. Hedgeland, in the same letter to the " Guar-

Rambles at Penzance. 495
dian," mentions an incident which I also insert here,
though out of its place. He visited him after his
return to Hursley, and in the course of a walk,
directed his attention to a broken piece of ground,
a chalk-pit, as it turned out : —
"Ah," said he, "that is a sad place, that is connected
with the most painful event of my life. It was there that
I first knew for certain that J. H. N. had left us. We had
just made up our minds that such an event was all but in
evitable, and one day I received a letter in his handwriting.
I felt sure of what it contained, and I carried it about with
me all through the day, afraid to open it. At last I got
away to that chalk-pit, and then forcing myself to read the
letter, I found that my forebodings had been too true ; it
was the announcement that he was gone."
I do not know whether it was a habit of his to
select retired spots like this for such purposes ; but
I remember well on some occasion, when he and I
had to talk over some serious matter, his taking me to
an abandoned chalk-pk, one, at least, in which the
growth of brambles and coppice wood indicated that
it had not been worked for some time ; and there we
discussed our question. Few spots, by the way, are
more picturesque than these old chalk-pits some
times are ; and this may have been to him, like Lad-
well Hill, with its wild flowers, a familiar spot, in
which he chewed the cud of sweet and bitter fancies.
Keble had hoped to return to Hursley for Easter,
but he was obliged to give it up, and on Palm-

496 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Sunday, March 29, he wrote to me from Penzance,
commemorating a visit to them from his brother and
sister-in-law, with his usual sense of great enjoyment.
Mrs. Keble continued better, but —
" Everybody advised us to give up our dream of being at
home at Easter; and there has been a slight flavour of
March lately, even in the West Winds, which proves them
right ; and I am rather ashamed to. own myself too lazy to
feel as uncomfortable as I ought about it."
On the 19th of May, 1863, he wrote to me from
Hursley, after having been at home for some little
time ; he was full of the kindness he had received
at Penzance, the beauties of the place and neigh
bourhood, and perhaps, above all, " what one might
call three distinct immigrations from home." Among
these he reckoned one from Mr. James Young, the
son of his old Curate, whom he loved, and treated
as one of his own family, who looked up to and re
garded him and Mrs. Keble as Uncle and Aunt, and
who was destined in some sort to repay their love
by being allowed to watch over, and attend on, and
nurse both to the close of their last illness.
It was evident that Mrs. Keble had returned not
substantially better than she went, and he intimates
to me the thoughts which arose in his mind, and
which not long after he propounded to me more dis
tinctly. He writes : —
" It would be very wrong to complain, wrong also to
look forward, though I cannot conceal it from myself that

Keble's Thoughts of Resignation. 497
in all probability it will be wrong, (supposing we have the
chance,) to spend another winter here, and therewith come
practical questions which I need not now specify, but I
suppose one ought to look on to them so far as to pray for
guidance." In accordance with these thoughts he wrote to me
on the 3rd of July : —

t>*

" Although Charlotte has not been absolutely ill since we
came home, and many think her improved in looks, I can
not flatter myself that she is radically reformed, and a very
Httle makes her exceeding weak. We are rather deferring
to take any medical opinion about our staying here next
winter. I do not myself doubt what the Doctors will say ;
but how to manage afterwards ? (This is private). Ought
I not, at least, to lay the matter before the Patron and the
Bishop, and place the Nomination to the Cure in their
hands. In plain English, should I not offer to resign ?
Do tell me your first impression, i.e. what you feel would
be your first impression in my case. I have not whispered
it to her, but it must, I should think, have come into her
mind. Well, now I must leave off for the present; with
all love to all, ever yours more and more, J. K."
I told him that my first impression was that he
should do as he proposed, because I felt sure that
both Bishop and Patron would say, it was better for
the living and Church that he should retain the in
cumbency now, even if he were sure to be absent
another long winter. But I thought the question
must be looked at from a different point of view;
that it was a question for himself, not one for the
Kk

498 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Bishop and Patron to decide for him. And then with
the view I had of Mrs. Keble's health, as gently as I
could, I distinguished between the case of one who
had no prospect of renewing his winter residence
for the whole of his lifetime, and his own case. I
tried to induce him therefore to narrow his considera
tion only to the absence for the coming winter; and
in that point of view there seemed to be no doubt,
that he ought for the sake of his people to retain the
incumbency for the present. I believe he was satis
fied. However, as late as the 8th of October, the
necessity for a determination had not arisen : —
" We live on," says he, at that date, K from day to day,,
in hopes to be allowed to spend the winter here, my wife-
continuing on the whole, I think, nearly as well as when
we left the West. But I consider myself as under orders
to be ready to move at a very short warning."
It was about the time of his July letter that the
Judicial Committee had decided an appeal by a
clergyman of the name of Long against the Colo
nial decision of an action he had brought in the Su
preme Court there against the Bishop of Capetown.
The judgment of the Committee was adverse to the
Bishop. The case was not one under the Church
Discipline Act, but simply a Common Law appeal
from the court in the colony. I cite the following
extract from Keble's letter for several reasons, which
it will itself suggest : —
"As to Cape Town, I said that about legal and theo-

Visit to Torquay. 499

logical half in jest to Butterfield, but when I read the sen
tence, I saw that the abstract I had seen of it was erro
neous, viz. 'that Synods were pronounced altogether ille
gal;' but its real tenor seems to me a gain to us, in dis
countenancing voluntary ' synods,' framed, for the nonce, of
Laity as weU as of Clergy, and throwing us back on the
Common Law of the Church. And a wiser pen than mine,
writing from Bisley, says unasked, ' To me it seems a wise
decision, and what in the end will produce good.' Indeed,.
there seems but one opinion about it"
" The orders to move," which he spoke of, arrived
in December. On the 4th Sunday in Advent he
wrote to me : —
"We have had too plain warning that we must move.
She has not had a regular attack, only her breath is very
weak, and not near so fit for travelling I fear as last year.
I have no time to write on other things now ; so can only
say, our dear love, and 1,000 thanks for your kind letter.
I had such a kind one from our Bishop yesterday."
Mrs. Keble feared the long journey to Penzance,
and the substance of the letter was to ask me help
in finding good lodgings for them at Torquay. I
had advised him to try that place. His letter found
me just breaking up from some weeks' stay there \.
but his god-daughter, with a niece of mine resident
there, soon found him a comfortable abode in a house-
called Enderlie, in Croft-road, and on the 3rd of
January, 1864, I had the pleasure of receiving from
him a cheerful account of his patient, and an as
surance that they were comfortable.

500 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
They remained at Torquay for about three months,
and I need scarcely say that Keble was received by
the clergy generally with kindness and respect, and
by some of them with more than even those words
import. Enderlie is in the Tor district of that
large parish, and in close neighbourhood to St.
Luke's Church ; he delighted in attending the ser
vices there, and was very much drawn to the in
cumbent, Mr. Harris, and his father, the Incumbent
of the Mother church at Tor, which is at no great
distance. He was not slow to render help where it
was needed, and, as at Penzance, he always pre
ferred the smallest churches, and the simplest con
gregations for his own ministrations. It was not,
however, from the clergy only, that he and Mrs.
Keble received the kindest attentions ; people were
not merely delighted to do him honour, their hearts
seemed to flow out towards him with love and grati
tude, as well as admiration. But he shall speak for
himself on this matter. His first letter from Pen
zance, (for to Penzance they went from Torquay,)
was dated April 18, 1864 : —
" My dearest Coleridge,
" It is, indeed, too high time for me to write to you on
100 things, and first of all, to thank you over and over for
your good and timely advice about Torquay. You heard
of us from time to time through dear Mrs. Martyn, and the
rest of your kind allies and clanspeople there, who seemed
as if they could not do enough to befriend us. On the
whole, considering to what a ripe age I have attained, I

Second Visit to Penzance. 501
have a marvellously fragrant remembrance of Torquay on
my mind, which will last me, I dare say, to the end of my
brief remaining time. The Churches and the Sundays were
so pleasant, and so much real sympathy, and all that is beat
within a few yards of us. Charlotte was not very much in
visiting, or in visitable order, during a great part of the
time, so that we did not make so much as we should have
wished of our privileges ; but she did mend, or, at least,
was kept from suffering as she would have done at home ;
so as to make us very thankful that we took your good
advice, and went there when we did. She was not then
in a condition to go much further, had we wished it ever
so much. And so when the Spring weather came, and we
got on here, she was in a condition to enjoy thoroughly her
dear old friend, the open sea, to the very edge of which we
have crept as close as ever we could, our house being within
about 12 feet of high-water at moderate Spring Tides. And
we see, both from bed-rooms and sitting-room, all round the
Bay from Mousehole to the Lizard. She has mended upon
it, as in old days; for a great part of her time she neither
coughs, nor suffers neuralgia ; and the E. wind which has
prevailed, has come to her very much mitigated by the sea-
She goes often to Church, and sometimes can take a toler
able walk downhill. Altogether, I very much wish that I
could invest in a decent sea-side house and garden some
where in this climate, with a good aspect, and within reach
of a good Doctor ; but such a thing is more easily wished
for than found. Sometimes I dream of combining such
a plan with being Curate of Hursley, (if I might,) in the
summer time. But I have not yet said anything of this to
the Patron; she keeps on saying, 'Let us try another
winter.' One ought not to listen to this (?), for what a thing
it would be if one made the trial once too often."

¦"502 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
It was not a long visit which they paid, to Pen
zance at this time, and I need not repeat the ac
count which I have given as to Keble's course
here, or the reception he met with ; but I think I
must not withhold part of a communication which
I received from Mr. Tyacke long after, dated from
.St. Levan, to which he had been removed ; —
" One trait in Mr. Keble's character, and one essentially
Christian, was his sympathy ; this I had the opportunity of
personally experiencing when I have seen him in Penzance,
since I came here to live. He took such real interest in
the character and progress of the work I am seeking to do
here ; he also expressed himself with such kindliness re
specting the position of Dissenters, in this too long neg
lected place, as shewed the loving nature of his heart.
" His humbling humility, too, shewed itself here as else
where, when he would thank one for coming to see him,
and put himself into the position of a learner, when in con
versation he asked an opinion for information.
" I seem to feel ' The Christian Year' a different book, or
rather a book of greater power now than I did before, and
I am thankful to be able to do so, it makes me reverence
his memory more."
I cannot help attaching importance to the infer
ences to be drawn from such a letter as this ; the
particular circumstances are in themselves perhaps
not very remarkable ; but as naturally drawn traits,
which an intelligent stranger, (for such was Mr.
Tyacke to Keble,) observed so strongly, they give
us accurately the character to which they belonged.

Return to Hursley. 503
Keble's next letter was dated on the 29th of April
at Dartington Parsonage, where Mrs. Keble and he
were resting in their way home ; they reached Hurs
ley a few days after, and remained there for many
months.

CHAPTER XX.
SUBSCRIPTION AND OATHS OF THE CLERGY.— RE
TURN FROM PENZANCE. — PRACTICE AS TO CON
FIRMATIONS. — PARALYTIC SEIZURE, NOVEMBER,
1864. — SECOND VISIT TO TORQUAY. — REMOVAL
TO PENZANCE. — THE COLENSO APPEAL. — PASTO
RAL LETTER TO THE CONFIRMED AT HURSLEY.
— VISIT AT HEATH'S COURT, MAY IO. — RETURN TO
HURSLEY. — ABOLITION OF TESTS AT OXFORD-
MRS. KEBLE'S SEVERE ILLNESS. — VISIT OF DR.
PUSEY AND DR. NEWMAN.
IT was at the close of 1863, or very early in 1864,
that a Royal Commission issued to consider the
existing laws as to oaths taken and subscriptions
made by the Clergy. The late excellent Primate
was placed at the head of it, the Archbishops of
York and Armagh, and several other Bishops, were
members ; and it was certain that it was not issued
in any spirit hostile to the Church. I hardly know,
however, whether at first it was an unmixed plea
sure to Keble, that Sir William Heathcote and
myself were also members. Although he did not
fear the spirit in which the Commission issued, and
by which its functions were carefully guarded, he saw

Subscription and Oaths of the Clergy. 505
clearly, or thought he saw, that the real motive for
issuing it was to satisfy men who did not in truth be
lieve in all that the clergy swore to and subscribed ;
and he was apprehensive that in the desire to do this
some portion of vital truth might be conceded. He
doubted, too, where this small beginning would end.
Before he is condemned as narrow and unreasonable
in this, some of the publications of the day, and their
acceptance, as well as the state of religious opinion
and teaching at Oxford and elsewhere, must be
borne in mind. The strange language also must
be remembered, which, it was commonly said, had
proceeded from a high legal authority even in judg
ment, as to the meaning of such a word for example
as "everlasting," in reference to the punishments of
the other world. Years before he had said no less
beautifully than forcibly : —
" Then is there hope for such as die unblest,
That angel wings may waft them to the shore,
Nor need th' unready virgin strike her breast,
Nor wait desponding round the bridegroom's door.
" But where is then the stay of contrite hearts'!
Of old they lean'd on Thy eternal word,
But with the sinner's fear their hope departs,
Fast link'd as Thy great Name to Thee, 0 Lord"."
And now he wrote : —
" There is never a boy or girl going up and down the
a "Christian Year," Second Sunday in Lent.

506 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
street but can catch in a moment the idea of there being
no Hell, and can apply it when tempted to deadly sin;
and, in fact, who can tell how many souls may have been
already lost by the mere broaching of the idea."
He was from this and other circumstances in a
.state of mind more than commonly sensitive; and
he was at all times especially alive to anything that
touched the Common Prayer-book. When we of
the Commission were considering the declaration of
"unfeigned assent and consent to all and everything,
contained and prescribed in and by it," which the
Act of Uniformity required to be made upon pre
sentation or collation to any benefice, and I con
sulted him on some proposed changes of these words,
he answered me thus : —
" I have nothing to say but what appears to me tlie
plainest common sense, as much within the reach of the ¦
simplest labourer believing, as within my reach. It is all
comprised in two points, i. That the Teacher should be
pledged to the Faith and Practice of the Church, and 2,
that the Taught should know them to be so pledged. With
a view to the former, supposing men to be honest, (a thing ] ,
implied in the very notion of subscription ex ,animo,) I
don't see that there is any fundamental difference between
one of the suggested forms and another. But in regard of
the latter, the right of believing Laity to be satisfied that
they and their children shall be taught according to then-
belief, these two things occur to me, Ist. that the mere
cry for alteration is to such a ground of suspicion ; for it
naturally occurs to them, why do people want this altered,

Subscription and Oaths of the Clergy. 507
except because they do not quite believe it themselves?
And what is more alarming, it is not denied, it is dwelt on
in Parliament as a great reason for the change that good
and clever men are kept out, or, being within, are made
uncomfortable, through lack of some such alteration. And
what other interpretation can one put on the proposal to
leave out the ' assensus and consensus,' than to Ecense in
lioly ministrations language which the heart inwardly dis
avows ? This being so, one (2) must prefer that among the
proposed forms which least disturbs the existing practice.
And that if I understand it rightly, is  ' amendment with
Mr.  ' further resolution. I wish we could retain the
' assensus and consensus' somehow ; one could have done
without it, perhaps, but being there, its omission will be
a positive act, and is sure to have the positive consequence
above-mentioned. "
If my dear friend could have been present at the
meetings of the Commissioners, and witnessed the
spirit which was manifested in all their discussions,
I think his mind would have been made more easy,
and, I may venture to say, disabused of some pre
judices. Unless I am mistaken, both Houses of
Convocation adopted the conclusions to which we
came. It is too early undoubtedly to speak of any
fruit which they have borne ; they have been ac
cepted, and I believe acted on gratefully and heart
ily, and not less by one party in the Church than
the other.
Keble went on in the same letter to say; —
" Since the assent of Convocation is recited in the pre-

508 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
amble of the Act establishing the Prayer-book, ought not
this change in the Act to be first laid before Convocation,
seeing that it (the change) will relax the binding force not
of this or that part, but of the whole ?" v
Keble was anticipating changes in kind and de
gree very far exceeding what were in the end re
commended and became law ; but I confess in the
principle of this last recommendation he seems to
me quite right, and that it was a jealousy of: the
Spiritual power, quite unworthy of the undoubted
greatness of Parliament, which refused to admit in
the Preamble of the Act passed, any recital,, ex
pressing in any way that Convocation had con
curred in the provisions. The statute would surely
have been just as entirely the act of the legisla
ture only.
They returned from Penzance in April, (1864,)
and continued at Hursley till towards the end, of
November.: — , .
" My wife's behaviour," (as he called it, writing in Sep
tember,) "has been tolerably good, yet not without neu
ralgia, and shortness of breath, coming exceptionally, and
generally to be accounted for, so that we are not in a way
to flatter ourselves that we shall make out the winter here,;
but we do hope, at least she does, to weather it until
Christmas.'' Many friends visited them, and they made one
visit to Church Crookham, where Mrs. and Miss

Return to Hursley. 509
M. A. Dyson were now living ; he speaks of this
thus characteristically : —
" By-the-bye, what a charming arrangement that is of the
Dysons at Crookham. We were never there until this
summer, and then for 2 days in the very hot weather. All
the time I had almost a sense of his presence ; everything
seemed so exactly as if he had settled it for them, and then
gone out on a journey."
In the meantime he was as active as ever in the
discharge of his pastoral duties ; what that activity
was, I shall have occasion to shew before I con
clude. A confirmation was to take place in Hursley
early in 1865. There was no one of those duties in
regard to which his practice was more careful and
laborious than in the preparation of the candidates
for this.
Mr. Young, to whom I am under many and great
obligations, has furnished me with so detailed an
account of his course in regard to this most im
portant pastoral duty, that I cannot do better than
introduce it here : —
" He took," he says, "great pains in preparing the young
people for Confirmation ; sometimes, as soon as one Con
firmation was over, making a list of those whose turn would
come next, and at aU times beginning the preparation
several months beforehand. His usual course was to go
through in order, first the Baptismal Service, then the Cate
chism, then the Confirmation Service, and, lastly, the Office
for Holy Communion. He took a certain portion each

5 10 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
time, making perhaps 20 or 30 lessons in the whole. He
usually wrote down on paper 3 or 4 passages of Scripture,
bearing on the subject of the next lesson, which he re
quired to be learnt by heart, or carefully studied; and
he was always very particular in ascertaining whether the
Lesson, as he called it, had been attended to. Wherever
it was practicable, he led his pupils up to their first Com
munion immediately after Confirmation; but in many cases
he was satisfied, if they promised to continue under instruc
tion. One class of boys came to him for more than a twelve
month, and read through with him different parts of the
Bible, according to their own choice, before he could per
suade them to turn their minds distinctly to preparation
for Holy Communion. I believe his rule as to refusing to
recommend for Confirmation those who would not pledge
themselves to communicate, became stricter as years passed
on; but I should say generally that he was always very
much guided by circumstances in regard to his adherence
to particular rules."
I will add one or two particulars supplied to me
by a lady, who had scarcely less personal knowledge
than Mr. Young : —
" One year, at the beginning of Lent, he gave notice that
there would be a Confirmation at the end of Lent in the
next year, and therefore desired to receive at once the
names of those who would then be of ripe age for Con
firmation. The Children, whom he prepared, came to him
either in classes, or singly, every week for about a year be
fore the administration of the Rite. He took those of dif
ferent ranks and ages separately, as needing a difference
in the kind of teaching to be given ; and as there were few
of the Upper Class at the same time under preparation,

Confirmation at Hursley. 511
these usually came to him each alone every week. The
knowledge of the Bible possessed by the Children long
before their preparation for Confirmation began, and the
way in which it was interwoven in their minds with the
Creeds and the Catechism, was something uncommon, in
deed. If farm lads could not come to him for press of
work, he went to them, one by one, however far off."
" Latterly," writes to me another Lady, " he used to
bring the first class of boys to the Vicarage on Sunday
Mornings, and teach them in his Study, the door, as usual,.
standing wide open all die time. He said he did it in
hopes it might make the big boys like coming, who might
think it beneath them to go to the School. He used to
say, ' I like them very much, if they would only like me ;
but they always do much better as long as they are under
my wife.'
" If a servant came to him who was ignorant, or who had
not become a Communicant, he always taught her himself...
I have known him take the most ignorant girl day after day
alone, carefuUy instructing her ; and although she had been
confirmed, deferring her first Communion from week to week,
until he had reason to hope she was prepared for it."
I could multiply statements of this kind, as to this.
part of his pastoral duty, but I will only add now
the impression which I myself received, when in his
house. It seemed to me that he and Mrs. Keble
were substantially the servants of the parishioners.
To attend to their wants, to help them in sickness,
trouble, or difficulty, at their convenience, not his
or her's, or that of the guests in the house, was
evidently the understood rule and practice.

512 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
What wonder, then, if under such a course of
labour for years, such constant anxiety on her ac
count, and such frequent distress in regard to Church
matters, his constitution at last broke down. My
narrative left him half hoping that Mrs. Keble's
health would enable them to stay over Christmas at
Hursley ; and he expressed no uneasiness whatever
about his own. But on the night of St. Andrew's
Day, the 30th of November, while he was sitting
alone after Mrs. Keble had retired, writing a letter for
publication on a matter deeply interesting' to him,
he was struck with palsy on the left side and right
arm ; the latter part of his writing was afterwards
found to be illegible ; but he did not lose his con
sciousness, or his presence of mind. He went up to
her room, and they knelt down as usual, and said their
prayers together ; his voice was observably indistinct ;
and at the end, asking her if she had remarked any
thing, he held out his hand, which was losing its
power. Medical aid was sent for at once, but during
the night the symptoms became worse ; from the
morning, however, they were alleviated.
His medical attendants who knew his constitution
well, the anxieties he had long been under, and his
habits of labour, advised his removal westward with
out any delay as soon as his strength should be equal
to the journey to Torquay; above all things they
were urgent for his taking rest. They attributed
the attack to over-exercise of the thinking powers.

A ttack of Paralysis. 5 1 3
If he would rest, there was every reason to hope for
nearly, if not a complete, restoration of his health ;
and none without it. Before this illness, they had
settled to go to Penzance immediately after Christ
mas, and their lodgings had been secured there from
the 28th of December. So long a delay would not
have been proper, and the distance to Torquay was
more convenient to the strength of both, and ac
cordingly to Torquay they came. The medical
opinions there entirely concurred with that given
at Hursley. Keble said he was not aware of having
over- worked himself recently ; and the reply was ob
vious, he had not been aware of it, because he had
for so many years been in the habit.
He promised obedience, and as far as he could
he kept his promise, that is, he read less and lightly,
and wrote little ; indeed, writing was now more than
ever a wearisome process; its character was much
altered for the worse ; but how could he prevent
thoughts ? Medical advice of this kind is often
given ; but it seems to me, the weaker the body,
and the organs of the brain, the less control does
the will exercise over them. Habitual trains of
thought can in such a state be almost as little put
aside as distressing dreams in illness. And as such
dreams in such a state of the frame are sometimes
more than ordinarily distinct and vivid, so it seems
probable that our waking meditations may be per
fectly clear and correct in the state in which Keble
Ll

514 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
was, only that we cannot exercise the control of the
will over them, nor bid the mind be still. " Indeed,"
wrote Mrs. Keble to me, " he does quite mean to be
prudent, but he can scarcely help thinking." And it
seems as natural that he should be thinking on the
subjects which painfully and habitually occupied his
mind when in health, as that our dreams by night
-should borrow much of their train and colouring
from what may have much occupied or disturbed
our thoughts by day.
It was speedily found that they could not move on
to Penzance so soon as they had intended. They
were, however, well placed at Torquay. All that
could be done to cheer them they received ; he
was not allowed to see many persons, but they had
the great comfort of Miss Coxwell's and Mr. James
Young's attendance ; these two formed part of their
family, as it were, and could never be in the way;
they lightened the nursing and attendance, which
would have been too much for Mrs. Keble unas
sisted, though providentially she as yet bore up
well. I was forbidden by my own medical friend
to leave home, and I could render no help, ex
cept by answering for him some questions as to
Church matters, which he had not been able to
attend to.
Early in the year he took up his pen again
to write to me, and he dated from Penzance;
he wrote shortly, and in a sadly altered character,

Illness of Mrs. Keble. 5 1 5

but with his usual overflowing affection. I give it
entire : — "P., 31 Jan., 1865.
" Dearest Friend,
" You will be sorry to hear that my dear wife had one of
her very bad attacks on Saturday Morning. It soon sub
sided, D. G., but left her of course very weak; however,
she was down stairs yesterday evening, and is again this
morning. But the attack coming here was a disappoint
ment. At home, indeed, it might have been much worse.
The weather has been very sharp here.
" I am very comfortable, and were it not for my wrist
and voice, should hardly know that there was anything the
matter with me. Thinking, so far as it has come to me, has
not seemed to hurt me. I do not seek it.
" God reward and bless you for aU your great love, and
all yours with you. Your most affecte, J. K."
" C. is most thankful for your letter, and very sony she
could not answer it.''
However loyally he might endeavour to obey the
injunctions of his medical advisers, there was one
cause of anxiety over which he had no control, and
which almost continually pressed on him for the re
mainder of his life, I mean Mrs. Keble's illnesses,
which henceforward were scarcely intermittent. And
now as she was recovering from her severe attack,
she had the misfortune of a very severe scald in one
foot, which in her then state, and with her delicate
constitution, produced so much injury, and became
so serious, as to compel recourse to a second medical
adviser. The danger apprehended was from a failure

5 1 6 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
of strength, and the difficulty how to keep it up with
out irritating the chest. " But," wrote he, as he sum
med it up, " they are good fellows, and seem to know
what they are about. The rest is in His hands."
This is an extract from a note dated on the 6th of
February. He wrote short notes to me about her
progress from time to time all through that month.
On the ioth of March he writes still from Penzance,
and gives this account of himself and her : —
" All thanks for your much love. I wish I could answer
it as I ought ; but my writing powers do not sensibly im
prove, and I am told not to try them much. Ditto with
speaking; but I can read and think (D. G.) without finding
any inconvenience. In other respects I seem to myself well,
only not up to my ordinary amount of walking. Charlotte
is regularly down in our drawing-room from after breakfast
till after tea, and the wound on her foot, (now after 5 weeks
reduced to about the size of a shilling,) is not I hope much
of a trouble to her. She is in other respects pretty well for
her, and always cheerful. The weather has mostly been
very pleasant ; your snow, if it came at all to us, came in
the shape of coldish rain. I wish Torquay had not proved
such a failure to you."
The Oxford contest of this year was already in
preparation, and he was sensitive about Sir William
Heathcote, whose seat no one wished to disturb, but
as to whose course in regard of what could be no
more than a mere understanding between the other
two candidates there was some little delicacy : —
" Can there," wrote Keble, " be possibly any doubt
about H.'s position on the Oxford Poll. I should think that

The Stay at Penzance. 5 1 7
all the Hardys and the majority of tlie others would surely
support him."
It is well known that this expectation was fully
justified. After some words about his brother and nephew,
he ends thus cheerily : —
" My wife has the most charming weekly letters from Ch.
Yonge, and she keeps her supplied with the most charming
French Books. Moreover, we solace ourselves with a nightly
rubber or two, a great step in old folks' education. With all
love from us both, I am most affect'7 yours, J. K."
I believe this nightly rubber was, indeed, as he
calls it, "a step in old folks' education," with him;
at least, I never remember seeing him have recourse
to the innocent pastime in earlier life.
I do not remember what book I had sent him,
which he so kindly acknowledges on the 24th of
March : —
" Dearest Friend,
" First thank you again and again for that beautiful book,
beautiful in every sense. It is so refreshing to open a col
lection entirely of old and tried gems ; tho' far the greater
part of them, I must confess, are new to me. We are both
of us, D. G, reasonably well, though I cannot boast much
of getting on, as you see. Nor is Ch. able to get out at all ;
nor has her foot even as yet quite healed. I think the E.
Wind, which is here as everywhere else, though mitigated,
is against both of us."
The handwriting of this letter was, indeed, very
feeble, but it was much longer than any he had

5 1 8 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
written before since his illness ; for this was the time,
I think, when the issue between the Bishop of Cape
Town and Bishop Colenso was submitted to the
Judicial Committee ; and he looked on that submis
sion, in the first instance, on the part of the Govern
ment, and the question being entertained by the
Committee at all, as grievances. It is well known
that the appeal was finally entertained, and decided
in favour of the appellant ; the lamentable and per
haps unavoidable consequences are also well known ;
but this is not the place to enlarge on them. I men
tion the matter, because in some sort it is part of
Keble's biography, and because there is no doubt
that the general subject formed to the end of his
life one of the sources of distress, which helped to
break down his strength, and accelerated its close.
The decision of the Appeal, it is right to add,
satisfied him, as he understood it. In a letter writ
ten by Mrs. Keble under his dictation, on the 31st of
March, he says : —
" I see most thankfully that the decision annuls Colenso's
Episcopate, (meaning of course his territorial jurisdiction,)
and if I understand it rightly, almost all the Colonial Sees
as much as it does the Metropolitan's claim, and therefore
virtually leaves the matter to be settled by the Churchmen
of the two dioceses. And what I pray and hope may be
done is, —
" 1. That this may be thoroughly and openly recognised
by the authorities in England.

Tiie Colenso Judgment. 5 19
" 2. That the will of Natal may be fairly and fully ascer
tained, (that of Capetown is ascertained without
a doubt).
" 3. That so much of Natal as may wish to continue,
(what it has supposed itself hitherto,) a See in the
province of Capetown, may be aUowed to elect its
own Bishop, and Capetown to consecrate him.
" 4. That the Metropolitan with his Suffragans may freely
exercise the prerogative inherent in them, of cen
suring, and if need be, excommunicating any heretic,
Bishop or other, who may be molesting the faithful
within the Province.
" 5. All, of course, subject to the correction of the
Courts temporal, in respect of any temporal wrong
sustained."
Such were Keble's not unreasonable wishes ; we
know how far they seem even now from being accom
plished ; nay, how disturbing even to the Church
at home have been the miserable distractions of the
English Church in Southern Africa. It is a very
painful subject to think on. Lawyers, who con
sidered the matter, had long suspected that the
Colonial Episcopate in many of the colonies stood
upon a very sandy foundation as to jurisdiction and
discipline. There was a hope, which people were
but too glad to indulge in, that by God's bless
ing on Christian holiness, discretion, and temper,
years might elapse before the solidity of the foun
dation in these respects might be tried. If this had
been granted time might have consolidated it; acts

5 20 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
would in all probability have been done, and ac
quiesced in, and the result have amounted to ac
ceptance and consent; so presumptions would have
arisen, to which Courts of Law would have pro
perly allowed great weight. Unfortunately such
events occurred as made it necessary to examine
the foundation too soon, and the original defect
was laid open. It is very convenient to lay the
blame now, in the particular instance, on the Metro
politan Bishop, but it may surely be said, without
vindicating his conduct in every step, that this is
most unjust. The Law Officers at home, whoever
they were, on whose authority the Patent issued,
ought to be answerable for its worthlessness. The
Bishop may have committed errors of conduct in the
course of the long warfare in which he has been
engaged ; naturally enough in the commencement
he assumed the authority of the Crown, and the
validity of the Patents which it had issued. But
the inherent defect depended on circumstances on
the one hand, and on legal principles on the other,
which ought to have been well known and appre
ciated by the legal advisers of the Queen. To state
this may give offence, but at the hazard of that,
what it is just to state ought to be stated.
I turn with pleasure from these remarks to a sub
ject far more agreeable to think on. On the 28th of
March, 1865, the Confirmation took place at Hursley,
in the preparation for which Keble had been inter-

Confirmation at Hursley. 5 2 1
rupted by his illness. It should seem to have been
the first time that he had been absent on such an
occasion, and now, when the day arrived, his heart
was with the young ones of his flock. He sent to
them from Penzance in proof of this an address,
which seems to me so valuable in itself, and so cha
racteristic of him, so worthy to be preserved, and yet
so likely to be lost, that I feel it right to insert it
here at length, and in its place in point of time : —
" To the Newly-Confirmed at Hursley.
"March 28, 1865.
-' It is a real grief to me that I am not able to be with
you on this, as on former Confirmation Days. But I may
be able, by God's help, to say a word to you now which shall
remain with you and do you good in time of temptation.
" What shall the word be, my Children ?
" Our Lord Himself seems to have given it to us in the
second Lesson for this morning, — St. John xv., 'abide;' —
over and over He says it, — 'Abide in Me, and I in you.'
" You are now His, and He is yours. Doubt it not, but
earnestly believe it.
" If you have come here to-day with a good and true
mind towards Him, the Holy Spirit has come to you in the
laying on of hands, and has sealed you afresh, as He had
before sealed you in Baptism.
" All henceforth will depend on your keeping this Seal un
broken ; and that can be only in one way, by watching.
" Watch yourselves, then, dear Children, in all your
ways. Whenever Christ's Spirit in -your heart says to you,
'Do not this thing, — draw back your hand, look another
way, think of something else, — for this thing I hate,' — take

522 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
care to attend to Him, and obey the gracious warning at
once. And when the good Spirit whispers, ' Do this,' do it
at once for His sake. For instance, I know that He is
now putting you in mind of Holy Communion.
" Let nothing tempt you to lose time about It, but' go
¦directly to your Minister, and tell him you wish to be pre
pared for It, if you have not done so already; for depend
upon it, that Bread is as necessary for your Soul's Life, as
your daily bread is for the life of your body.
" Thus you will be watching your' ways ; and that you
may have Grace and Power to do this, you must watch
your Prayers too. You must try always to mean what you
say, when you ask God to keep you from sin, and give you
more Grace.
" So doing you will Abide in Christ, and be sure He will
abide in you. There may be sorrow on the road, but all
will go right in the end, for you will see His Face with joy.
And, oh ! how gladly will you then remember this day, if
for your dear Lord's sake you shall have made it a day of
such good beginnings.
" Do not then delay, but be found watching, the very
first time you are tried.
" God grant that it may be so with each one of you.
This is the earnest prayer of
" Your loving Father and Servant in Christ,
" John Keble."
On the 1 8th of April he wrote a cheering ac
count of Mrs. Keble ; they were planning their re
turn home, and promised us a visit on their way.
Of himself, he says : —
"I have not for a good time found much change in

Last Visit to Penzance. 523
myself, but I think I can walk farther, and perhaps read and
write better ; still I don't feel as if I could do my duty at
home, or a fair share of it, but nous verrons."
On the 19th he wrote again, having made some
mistake as to 'the dates of their intended movements,
and says of himself, " I fear that it will be a very
small fraction of my duty that I shall be able to do
myself." They left Penzance after all not until the first
week of May, and he wrote on the 9th as to some
particulars in regard to his visit to us, and thus he
sums up as to this his last visit to Penzance : —
" I am very thankful to have so good a chance of a few
hours with you ; the news from Stinchcombe makes every
hour seem more precious, and every surviving friend, and
indeed every departed one, dearer. My wife is less of a
walker than I had hoped she might have been by this time.
Penzance, though it was indeed a shelter from the extreme
cold, was very trying from the spasmodic attack and scalded
foot, which came together, and from the Bronchitis which
followed, and she has not got herself up quite properly.
But we cannot think enough of His goodness in sparing us
as He has done. Heathcote is waiting to see us before
starting for Malvern, so I fear we must not think of another
night with you, even if it could be otherwise."
They came to us on the 10th of May, and left us
on the following afternoon for home ; a short visit,
and the last ; but one for which I never can be too

524 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
thankful. He seemed to me much recovered, looking
better ; and he was stronger, and far more helpful than
I had ventured to hope for; and his "mind," I say
in my memorandum at the time, " seems perfect."
We were much alone, and conversed .much, some
times on subjects which might have taxed his powers
and his memory a good deal. I remember among
other things in speaking of one of Dr. Colenso's ob
jections, as to the descent into Egypt of Jacob; with
his sons, and descendants, and the return from it,
his stating an explanation of his own, which involved
the repetition of many names, and some calculations ;
his memory was matter of surprise to me, though he
had a difficulty sometimes of utterance ; which im
peded only, but did not prevent the statement of all '..
particulars. He had less command of himself when
his tender affections were stirred. We talked of old
and departed friends ; in speaking of Cornish, he
suddenly turned away, covered his face with bdth.
hands, and shed a torrent of tears ; but he soon re
covered his calmness. It is impossible adequately
to describe his sweetness and affectionate manner;
it seemed to me then as now, that the thought of
his departed friends, and the consideration of his own
state, about which I am sure he never deceived him
self, made him cling only the more closely to the
very few who remained. And so, I trust, that as
we advance in age, and strive as in reason we ought
to do to make our attachments less and less strong

Last Visit to Heath's Court. 525
to the things which are merely of this earth and for
this life, we may yet blamelessly, even commendably,
cling with warmer and closer love to the persons, the
friends, whom loving through life we humbly hope
to love through all eternity. Keble and I parted at
this time not to meet again in this world ; but I was
spared, and I believe he was spared from anticipating
this at the time.
It was not until the 5th of June, Whitsun-Monday,
that he wrote to me from the old date, H. V., and I
make some extracts from his letter : —
" My dearest Coleridge,
"lama thankless wretch for not having long ago told
you how much I like to think of the day we spent with you,
our pleasant talk, and everybody's kindness.
" We are, I think, D. G, as well, at least, as when we
parted; I, if any difference, rather better. I read a lesson'
or two in Church most days, now and then visit in one or
two of the nearest houses, drive out very often ; but for the
most part I lead a sort of semi-vegetable life, and have no
very definite prospect of promotion in that respect. But,
indeed, dear friend, I ought to be very thankful that it is no
worse ; and I am really ashamed of the love and kindness
that is shewn me. Dear H. is, I really hope, materially
better, and more cheerful about himself.
" Now I have one or two little questions to ask." [I pass
over what immediately follows as immaterial ; he then goes
on,] " 3. I can't get it out of my head, that it would be both
justice and good statesmanship to state in the Preamble of
the new Church Subscription Act, that the change had been

526 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
approved by the Convocations of both Provinces, as in tlie
present Act of Uniformity. This might be very valuable to
us, if the Parliament should take to altering the P. B. If
you think this notion worth anything, you will know whom
to apply to about it better than I. . . .
" I am reading up some of dear Isaac Williams's works,
which to my shame I had neglected; and I find them so
beautiful. Ever your most affectionate, J. K."
Through the remainder of this month, and to the
middle of July, he was at Hursley, with no decline
apparently, nor any material improvement of his
bodily health. He took much interest in the Ox
ford Election, for which we were now preparing;
and whatever exertion he thought it useful to make
on behalf of Mr. Gladstone, for whom he felt as
warmly and as unreservedly as ever, he made as
heartily as of old. This does not mean that he
agreed with him in every opinion, or measure, which
he was understood to favour ; as to some he would
say, that though as he understood them, he did not
wholly approve them, yet he thought it became per
sons not conversant with State affairs to have con
fidence in one, whose knowledge and ability were
superior to their own, and whose integrity of principle
they did not doubt. The Irish Church question, how
ever, was not one of these ; as to this, I believe he
agreed with Mr. Gladstone in the principle, and I
shall have occasion to shew hereafter, there is good
ground for so believing. Beyond the principle I am

Oxford Election of '1865. 527"
not aware of any direct evidence ; conclusions can only
be drawn from the general character of his sayings
and writings ; and considerate persons will, I think,
pause before they pronounce confidently either way.
, At the Poll, as is well known, we were defeated,
to his great regret; he thought the decision of the
University a misfortune. And I fear he would with
many others have thought her humiliated by her re
jection of Sir Roundell Palmer in 1868.
The issue of the election, however, did not abate
his interest in the University. Writing to me on the
25th of July, very shortly after my son's election by
the city of Exeter, he says : —
" I should very much like to know whether John includes
in his Abolition of Tests the Collegiate Foundations, as well
as the Universities. If he does, I am totally at issue with
him, on what seem to me legal and constitutional, as well as
moral and religious grounds. Of course he does not mean
it ; but might not what he says about the Irish Church have
somewhat of the effect of a fire brand, addressed to such
a very popular audience. I should have thought it fitter
for a Cabinet CouncU or a grave book. I should also have
thought it discreet not to put the matter forward so pro
minently, unless a man saw his way to the mending of it ;.
which perhaps John does.
" But I cannot say how much I am obliged to the said
John for what he has done for us in the matter of Con
fession." This last remark refers, I believe, to a legal opinion
given in a matter which arose out of the extraordinary

528 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
case of Constance Kent, and to services . in it as her
legal adviser. On the former part of the extract I
have already said all that it is needful for me to
say. Although the measure to which Keble refers
was in the commencement carefully confined to the.
University, (and in some material circumstances the
cases of the two are clearly distinguishable in argu
ment,) it always seemed to me that in the progress
of the measure it would be found impossible to
preserve the distinction entire ; though it might be
possible, and would certainly be just, to make modi
fications as to the Colleges.
On the next day, (July 26,) he wrote again a short
note with some information respecting a matter we
were then both interested in, an Oxford testimonial
to Mr. Gladstone on the close of our Parliamentary
relations with him. I extract a sentence or two in
a more cheerful tone : —
" H. is just returned from spending two very pleasant
days with Lord Derby at Highclere. Lord D. was full of
fun, but H. is regretting that he omitted to ask him why
he renders PoSmis ' stag-eyed.' However, you see we have
two strings to our bow. Homer and good wit are in fashion,
whether we are Whigs or Tories."
He adds at the end : —
" My wife is very feeble, and her breath troublesome.
The weather is sultry, and I fear we have too many visitors.
Your most loving, J. K."

Illness of Mrs. Keble. 529
He very gently, as it was in his nature, alludes to
what had become a great and I fear a hurtful bur
then to both himself and his wife in their feeble state,
the number of visitors who came to them ; especially
as a considerable portion of them were strangers,
whose object was to see and converse with the
Author of "The Christian Year," a thing he par
ticularly disliked. Some would have little in -them
selves to lighten the burthen of entertaining them ;
and though some interested him much, yet even for
that very reason they fatigued him too ; and he was
always anxious for Mrs. Keble. Yet he could not
refuse these visits, nor decline to exert himself to
please those whose motive he felt to be kind and
reverential. A visit from Bisley, or from an old friend, was
a different thing, and with different results. August
19, he says : —
" We keep about the same, I not much better, nor yet,
D. G., any worse ; she too often with her breath out of
order, and the other symptoms of (I suppose) a disordered
spine, but rallying again, and taking her drives. Just now
we have Tom Senr, and his wife staying with us, a great
delight ; too great to last long." [And noticing all my scat
tered famUy, he concludes,] " Kind love to aU, Swiss and
English, on the Moor or by the River."
It was clear, as the year advanced, that Mrs. Keble
must move from Hursley ; the attacks on her breath
now recurred two or three times a-week, and their
M m

530 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
good Doctor Sainsbury, of Romsey, pressed them to
try the effect of change of air. Keble, who never
deceived himself as to the seriousness of her ail
ments, felt how important it would be to diminish
as much as he could the distance between her and
her sister. They went, therefore, with his brother
and sister to Bournemouth on trial, and the result
was so promising, that they made a sort of con
ditional engagement to return in October for the
winter. They had hoped for a month of fine wea
ther at home ; but only three days after their re
turn, she had one of her worst attacks ; indeed, the
account he gave me of it was frightful ; feeling its
approach, she began to go^ up-stairs to her room, but
" about half-way up she was obliged to sink down
on the staircase, and it was full 2\ hours before we
could move her up to her bed. By God's mercy she
was relieved after a time." And up to October 9,
when he wrote to me, she had had no return, though
left in such a state that "to talk earnestly, even
to listen with great interest," put her in danger of
one. Yet strange to say she was afterwards able
to take her drives as usual, and even to go to
London to consult Dr. Gull, and return on the fol
lowing day.
I mention these incidents of her attack with this
particularity on account of the remarkable visit to
Hursley, which he himself thus shortly mentions at
the end of a rather long letter, written to me on the
9th of October from Hursley : —

Letter of Dr. Newman. 531
" Ought we not to thank God more than ever for E. B. P. ?
how he has come out in print and in Congress. He
and J. H. N. met here the very day after my wife's attack.
P., indeed, was present when the attack began. Trying as
it all was, I was very glad to have them here, and to sit by
them and listen ; but I cannot write more of it now."
I was very anxious to have an account of a visit
so remarkable in itself, and about which so much
interest was felt, more detailed than Keble had
given me in the extract I have made above ; and
yet as calm, and as free from exaggeration as he
would have furnished himself, or desired to have
preserved. And I therefore took the liberty of ap
plying to one of the survivors. Dr. Newman was
good enough to furnish me with all that I desired ;.
and, further, in answer to a second request, to allow
me to publish his letter, for which I thank him sin
cerely, and I am sure my readers will thank him aa
heartily and sincerely :— " Rednall,.
"Sep' 17, 1868.
" Dear Sir John Coleridge,
" I must begin by apologizing for my delay in acknow
ledging your letter of the 10th. Owing to accidental cir
cumstances, my time has not been my own; and now,
when at length I write, I fear I shall disappoint you in the
answer which alone I can give to your question. It almost
seems to me as if you were so kind as to wish me to write
such an account of my visit to Mr. Keble as might appear

532 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
in your Memoir, but, as I think you will see, my memory is
too weak to allow of my putting on paper any particulars of
it which are worth preserving. It was remarkable, certainly,
that three friends, he, Dr. Pusey, arid myself, who had been
so intimately united for so many years, and then for so many
years had been separated, at least one of them from the
other two, should meet together just once again ; and for
the first and last time dine together simply by themselves.
And the more remarkable, because not only by chance
they met all three together, but there were positive chances
against their meeting.
" Keble had wished me to come to him, but the illness
of his wife, which took them to Bournemouth, obliged him
to put me off. On their return to Hursley, I wrote to him
on the subject of my visit, and fixed a day for it. After
wards,, hearing from Pusey that he too was going to Hursley
on the very day I had named, I wrote to Keble to put off
my visit. I told him, as I think, my reason. I had not
seen either of them for twenty years, and to see both of
them at once, would be more, I feared, than I could bear.
Accordingly, I told him I should go from Birmingham to
friends in the Isle of Wight, in the first place, and thence
some day go over to Hursley. This was in September, 1865.
But when, on the 12th, I had got into the Birmingham train
for Reading, I felt it was like cowardice to shrink from the
meeting, and I changed my mind again. In spite of my
having put off my visit to him, I slept at Southampton; and
made my appearance at Hursley next morning without being
expected. Keble was at his door speaking to a friend. He
did not know me, and asked my name. What was more
wonderful, since I had purposely come to his house, I did
not know him, and I feared to ask who it was. I gave
him my card without speaking. When at length we found

L etter of Dr. Newman. 533
out each other, he said, with that tender flurry of manner
wliich I recollected so well, that his wife had been seized
with an attack of her complaint that morning, and that he
could not receive me as he should have wished to do ; nor,
indeed, had he expected me ; for ' Pusey,' he whispered, ' is
in the house, as you are aware.'
" Then he brought me into his study, and embraced me
most affectionately, and said he would go and prepare Pusey,
and send him to me.
" I think I got there in the forenoon, and remained with
him four or five hours, dining at one or two. He was in
and out of the room all the time I was with him, attending
on his wife, and I was left with Pusey. I recollect very
little of the conversation that passed at dinner. Pusey was
full of the question of the inspiration of Holy Scripture,
and Keble expressed his joy that it was a common cause,
in which I could not substantially differ from them ; and
he caught at such words of mine as seemed to shew agree
ment. Mr. Gladstone's rejection at Oxford was talked of,
and I said that I really thought that had I been still a mem
ber of the University, I must have voted against him, be
cause he was giving up the Irish Establishment. On this
Keble gave me one of his remarkable looks,, so earnest
and so sweet, came close to me, and whispered in my ear,
(I cannot recollect the exact words, but I took them to be,)
' And is not that just ?' It left the impressionon my mind
that he had no great sympathy with the Establishment in
Ireland as an Establishment, and was favourable to the
Church of the Irish.
"Just before my time for going, Pusey went to read the
Evening Service in Church, and I was left in the open air
with Keble by himself. He said he would write to me in
the Isle of Wight, as soon as his wife got better, and then

534 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
I should come over and have a day with him. We walked
a little way, and stood looking in silence at the Church
and Churchyard, so beautiful and calm. Then he began
to converse with me in more than his old tone of inti
macy, as if we had never been parted, and soon I was
-obliged to go.
" I remained in the Island till I had his promised letter.
Tt was to the effect that his wife's illness had increased, and
he must give up the hopes of my coming to him. Thus,
unless I had gone on that day, when I was so very near not
going, I should not have seen him at all.
" He wrote me many notes about this time ; in one of
them he made a reference to the lines in Macbeth : —
" ' When shall we three meet again ?
When the hurley-burley's done,
When the battle's lost and won. '
" This is all I can recollect of a visit, of which almost
the sole vivid memory which remains with me is the image
of Keble himself. " I am, dear Sir John Coleridge,
" Yours faithfully,
" John H. Newman."
"Sir John Coleridge, &c, &c."
I must not venture to add a word of comment on
this letter ; and I must be careful not to suffer my
feelings to exaggerate the interest of this meeting,
so remarkable in every way. It is difficult, indeed,
to restrain one's emotion in thinking of what must
have been in the hearts of these three friends, once
so bound together in the prosecution of the highest

Letter of Dr. Newman. 535
objects ; separated in the body, but not in heart, for so
many years ; and now meeting under such trying cir
cumstances, for a brief while, and for the last time in
this world ; what must one of them, at least, have felt
as he stood with Keble, " looking in silence on that
Church and Churchyard, so beautiful and calm."
They parted, and Keble wrote the well-known lines
from Macbeth. I hope we may not irreverently look
forward for them to another more blessed meeting, —
" When before the Judgment-seat,
Though changed, and glorified each face,
Not unremembered ye may meet
For endless ages to embrace."

CHAPTER XXI.
OCTOBER II, 1865, LEAVE HURSLEY AND GO TO
BOURNEMOUTH. — LETTER ON THE RITUAL QUES
TION. — HIS LIFE AT BOURNEMOUTH.— ILLNESS.—
DEATH, MARCH 29, 1 866. — BURIAL AT HURSLEY,
— REMARKS ON PERSON AND CHARACTER. — MRS.
KEBLE'S DEATH, BURIAL, CHARACTER.
"OUT little remains to be told. The illness of
-L"' Mrs. Keble, of which there had been so alarm
ing an attack at the very time ofthe meeting ofthe
three friends, continued to manifest itself in gradually-
increasing weakness and suffering, from which there
was no effectual rallying, and never any complete
relief. She was, indeed, sometimes more easy, and
must have had considerable strength of constitution.
She was supported, too, by a cheerful heart, and en
tire resignation to God's dispensations. To these
last Keble bears most affecting testimony in the let
ters I am about to transcribe.
They were advised to lose no time in settling
themselves for the winter at Bournemouth, but they
were naturally desirous to keep the anniversary of

Visit to Bournemouth. 537
their wedding-day, the thirtieth, at home. This was
on the ioth of October, and on the eleventh they left
it, never to return alive. Domestic as he was by
nature, and always prone to attach himself to places
as well as persons ; and loving his parishioners, his
church, his parish, and his parsonage, as he did, we
may well imagine with what feelings he commenced
his journey to Bournemouth. I am not sure that
he had at all realized to himself that he should
never return. This, indeed, was of less consequence
to him who always carried his life in his hand, and
whose heart was stayed elsewhere ; but I feel sure
that he had realized this to himself, that if he did
return, it would be to follow his wife to her grave,
and linger at God's pleasure a widower on earth.
Mr. Moor tells us that on the Sunday before he
went, the 8th of October, Keble took some part in
the Services, reading the Lessons, and celebrating the
Holy Communion ; and not only this, but zealous
to the last in the work he loved most, walked with
him to visit some of his poor people at a distance ;
and also entertained at dinner some friends who had
come unexpectedly to see him.
The journey was well accomplished on the nth of
October. I am drawing near to the end of my store
of letters, and it will be seen that for what remains
to be told, I make use of his own pen wherever I
can ; I believe my readers will with reason thank
me for this.

538 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
On the 13th of October he wrote thus : —
"South Cliff Villa, Bournemouth,
" Oct. 13, 1865.
" Dearest Coleridge,
" We accomplished our journey here the day before yes
terday, with as much comfort as we could expect, and are
well satisfied with our lodgings, which are as thoroughly
within breath of the sea as any in this place, and seem so
far very comfortable. My niece Charlotte, and Fanny Cox
well, are with us. But as yet I see no rallying, even to such
strength as before that last attack  I do not mean that
I am without hope that, by God's blessing on constant care
and prayer, we may hope to have her with us for an inde
finite time, but she has had more frequent attacks, with less
•of rallying in the intervals. " I am ever, my dearest Friend,
" Most affecly yours, J. K."
Of course I was writing to him frequently, and I
¦did not scruple to consult him on any difficulties
which I might have in my reading as at other times.
Among my own letters returned to me, I find in
one, written on the 18th of October, a passage
which I transcribe for the sake of the answer : —
"Now I want an answer from you, if you can give it
without book, and without trouble. Reading S. Bernard's
Sermons on the Advent, I am puzzled with this phrase
twice occurring. He is speaking of our Lord's two advents;
he urges his Monks to ponder how much He has performed
in the one, how much He has promised in the other, and
then says, ' Utinam certe dormiatis inter medios cleros. Haec

Letter from Keble. 539
sunt enim duo brachia Sponsi, inter quae Sponsa dormiens
aiebat. Lseva ejus sub capite meo, et dextera ejus am-
plexabitur me,' and goes on quoting Cantic. ii. 6. And,
again, ' Sint ergo, si dormire volumus inter medios cleros, id
est duos adventus, pennas nostrae deargentatae.' The words,
' medios cleros,' are in my edition printed in italics as a quo
tation. Don't trouble yourself about this, if it does not
come into your head at once."
I thought the question might interest him, and
from his great familiarity with the Fathers, I did
not anticipate that I should put him to much trou
ble. I was right in the first supposition, but it will
be seen what a diligent enquiry he made for me.
On the 26th of October he answered me ; and,
first, he gave an account of his wife's state, and
said that they were about to change their lodgings,
"not being able to get a bedroom here on the
same floor as this, which is quite necessary, for
though we do get her carried upstairs, the walking
down, and the colder air of the passages, is apt to
affect her breath ;" he then proceeds thus : —
" .... I have borrowed a S. Bernard from the Vicar here,
and have thought over your question as well as I could,
with the help of the Bible, the Septuagint, and Gesenius.
I dare say you have long ago found out that the clause is
from the Vulgate Version of Ps. 68, (67,) v. 13, (14,) and
that inter medios cleros, is what our Bible version renders,
'among the pots,' the Vulgate apparently adopting the word
ickfipovs from the LXX. avdp.eo-ov tS>v Kkr)pa>v. So the question
is how the LXX. came to translate the Hebrew word which

540 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
we render 'pots' by 'lots,' or 'portions;' and the phrase
' between the portions' somehow led my mind back to the
rite of dividing victims offered to sanction a covenant, as in
Gen. xv., and Jerem. xxxiv., and a passing between the por
tions of the victims. Also the Hebrew of ' pots' is nearly the
same as that rendered ' hooks' in Ezek. xl. 43, where plainly
something is meant on which, or by means of which, the
flesh of the offerings for sacrifice was deposited on each side
of certain entrances to the Temple, so that the offerer or
votary going in would pass 'between the hooks,' i.e. 'be
tween the portions' of the sacrifice, (our Translation in the
margin there says, ' or endirons, or the two hearth-stones.')
The mystical meaning, then, of being between these portions
would be ' being under a covenant by Sacrifice, (see Ps. 1.
5,) and sleeping between them as Abram seems to have
done, would be, being at rest in that Covenant,' for which
purpose we must be sanctified as Christians, there must be
the ' wings of the dove,' &c  I wish this may be intel
ligible, and have something in it ; at any rate, it interested
me greatly. ******
" I am disgusted much at finding the Colenso (public)
fund is more than ^2,000, the Cape-Town hardly ^200.
Hard lines for what is at worst a fault of temper. I cannot
write more just now. Ever yours, J. K."
I could not help observing to Keble, when I
thanked him for his answer, how much the Fathers
took for granted as to Biblical knowledge in those
whom they addressed. If they could do so pro
perly, it would seem to indicate a much greater
general diffusion of that knowledge than prevails

Letter from Keble. 541
now. Certainly, considering where the Fathers them
selves studied, a kind of learning seems necessary
which is now, I fear, not common even among the
Clergy ; it may be that a different kind is substi
tuted ; whether more or less valuable I will not ven
ture to say. But those among them, at least, who
yield to the sceptical spirit of the age, and delight
rather to find difficulties and suggest doubts, than
to accept old beliefs, are surely bound in con
science to acquire a deep and thorough knowledge
not merely of Hebrew, but of the best and earliest
commentators, of the history, usages, and ritual of
the Hebrews, before they communicate their doubts
or their theories to the public ; considering how often
they are found to trouble men's minds needlessly
by doubts, which more of this knowledge shews to
be groundless, or by theories which rest mainly on
unwarranted assumptions.
I am not competent to pronounce any opinion
whether Keble, whose answer is, at least, ingenious
and learned, had correctly solved my difficulty ; and
I print the extract in great part to shew how en
tirely he still preserved his activity and clearness of
intellect. But he gave a more remarkable proof of
this in a letter which he wrote and published in this
same month in the "Literary Churchman," on the
" Ritual of the Church of England." I hope this is
more known and considered, especially at this time,
than I fear it is. It is written in such an admirable

542 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
spirit, and with so much clearness and cogency, that
one might hope it might furnish a useful guide to
the clergy, and "allay somewhat of the bitterness
which is so much to be lamented in the manner of
waging the present controversy. It is too long to
be inserted here entire, but I cannot forbear en
riching my pages with the concluding paragraph.
The occasion recalls to my mind a wish which has
been expressed by one of Keble's dearest and wisest
friends, that all the occasional contributions which he
made to the public journals, as well as all his fugitive
pieces, should be collected, arranged, and published.
I entirely concur in this ; if it be not soon done, they
will surely be lost ; and as he never wrote anything
for publication without care and thought, the loss of
them would be much to be regretted : —
" It would seem to follow upon these statements — and I
understand that there is high legal authority for the opinion
— that the onus probandi lies in this matter upon the many
who practically ignore or slight the usages (of which num
ber I must confess myself to be one) rather than upon the
few who have regularly maintained or recently adopted
them. I do indeed regret the disregard of that rubric as
a real blemish in our ecclesiastical practice — a contradic
tion to our theory, less momentous, but quite as real as our
almost entire disuse of the discipline of Jesus Christ, our
obligation to which, nevertheless, we formally acknowledge.
But as in the latter case, so in this, the time and manner of
regaining the old paths must, under our circumstances, be
a question of equity and charity, not of strict law alone. I,

Keble on Ritual. 543

for one, rejoice whenever and wherever I see that kind of
revival successfully and tranquilly accomplished. But the
success will be more complete, and the satisfaction more
perfect, when those who have the work at heart shall have
ceased to indulge themselves in invidious comparisons and
scornful criticisms on such among their brethren as do not
yet see their way to it ; and when, on certain kindred sub
jects, they have learned to make* candid allowance for the
difference between our circumstances and those with a view
to which the primitive canons were framed. I allude par
ticularly to the disparaging tone sometimes used in speak
ing of mid-day Communions, with small consideration, as it
seems to me, for the aged and infirm, and others who can
not come early. Again, I cannot but doubt the wisdom of
urging all men indiscriminately to be present at the Holy
Mysteries — a matter left open, as far as I can see, by the
Prayer-book, and in ordering of which it may seem most
natural to abide by the spirit of the ancient Constitutions,
which did not willingly permit even the presence of any but
communicants, or those of whom the clergy had reason to
believe that they were in a way to become such : the rather,
in that there appears to be some danger of the idea gaining
ground, which meets one so often in Roman Catholic books
of devotion, of some special, quasi-sacramental grace con
nected with simply assisting devoutly at Mass, over and
above that promised to all earnest and faithful prayer.
" On these and all like matters we may do well, perhaps,.
to accept the counsel of our Church, in her first Reformed
Liturgy, concerning another main point of Christian disci
pline3 — such as are satisfied with the more modern and
plainer ritual not to be offended with them that adopt the
* See the first Liturgy of King Edward the Vlth. on Auricular
Confession.

544 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
more ornate and symbolical requirements of the rubric;
those, on the other hand, who find comfort and edification
in the ceremonies to bear with their brethren who, for vari
ous reasons, think best to dispense with them for the pre
sent. And so, too, in regard of Communion after a meal,
and of encouraging the presence of non-communicants, and
the like, ' to follow and keep the rule of charity, and every
man to be satisfied with his own conscience, not judging
other men's minds or consciences, whereas he hath no war
rant of God's Word to the same.'
'' Believe me, dear  , with great respect,
" Very sincerely yours,
" John Keble."
Thus wisely and thus gently did he express him
self in print on this subject ; but he yet felt very
warmly, and expressed himself warmly in conver
sation, and by way of advice to a young friend, on
the suicidal folly of our hot contentions respecting
ritual, when we had to contend against such deadly
enemies as looseness of morals, and growing infi
delity, sapping the very foundations of religion. He
sadly sighed for unity ; he did not agree with those
who thought that our only, or even our most power
ful enemy, was Papal Rome. But he feared that
our acrimonious disputes on matters which do not
touch the foundations of our Faith, might give her
a power not her own ; as the devices and engines of
Imperial Rome were helped in breaching the walls
of the Holy City, by the internecine contentions of
the garrison within.

Keble on Ritual. 545

The passage to which Keble makes reference in
this extract, it may be convenient to print here, as
the first Liturgy of Edward VI. is not in the hands
of all people. It stands at the end of what in our
present Liturgy is the first exhortation in the Com
munion Service ; and it is conceived in a spirit so
charitable in itself, and so applicable to all parts of
the present controversy, that it is much to be re
gretted that it was ever struck out : —
" Requiring such as shall be satisfied with a general con
fession, not to be offended with them that do use to their
further satisfying the auricular and secret confession to the
Priest ; nor those also which think needful or convenient,
for tlie quietness of their own consciences, particularly to
open their sins to the Priest, to be offended with them that
are satisfied with their humble confession to God, and the
general confession of the Church ; but in all things to follow
and keep the rule of Charity ; and every man to be satisfied
with his own conscience, not judging other metis minds or con
sciences; wliereas he hath no warrant of God's word to
the same!'
He wrote to me again on the 30th and 31st of De
cember, and I give the whole letter : —
" Bournemouth,
"Dec. 30, 1865.
" Dearest dear Friend,
" It is sad work, my trick of putting off my replies to
your loving letters. I can only say, as in so many former
years, Forgive me. I dare say I was a little the more tardy
from having no very good news to tell ; good news, I mean,
N n

546 Memoir ofthe Rev. John Keble.
according to our natural way of thinking about our dearest
Charlotte's health. I cannot hide it from myself, that she is
gradually growing weaker, and that one thing after another
has to be given up ; walking more than a step or two, writing,
chess, animated conversation, &c, &c, make her dear heart
beat too freely, and she suffers sadly from night perspiration
and faintness. The climate has not, as far as I can see,
been against her ; it has been exceptionally mild, and for
this place, I hear, exceptionally moist, and if she had been
a little stronger, she might have gone out a little some days
in almost every week ; indeed, she has done rather more
than I expected in that way ; but I do not find that it re
vives her as it used to do ; and all the brandy and turtle
soup they give her by day and by night only just serves to
enable her to go on from day to day. The doctors said
some time since that we must not expect a cure, but might
hope for improvement ; now they hardly say that, but ex
press surprise that we are yet spared other symptoms which
I fear we must look for. But it all brings out moment by
moment the goodness and sweetness with which He is con
tinually endowing her ; at least, so it seems to a poor crea
ture looking on it from below.
"31st. I cannot report any improvement; she has not
got up at all to-day ; and by the doctor's direction we have
telegraphed to Bisley. We had deferred doing so perhaps
too long on account of old Tom, who is rather in a critical
state of health ; nevertheless, I do hope we may see them
to-morrow. Pray for us, dearest Friend, that she may be
gently visited, and that I may be not found unfit to be with
her, at whatever distance, hereafter. I cannot write more
about myself; of her, if I had time, and my hand was
strong, I could go on for hours. With dear love for the
Christmas and New Year, I am ever yours, J. K."

Alleviation of Mrs. Keble's symptoms. 547
He wrote again on the 7th of January a short note
respecting an offer he had received of translating the
Prcelectiones for publication. Mrs. Keble's symptoms
had been somewhat alleviated, and the presence of
the brother and sister, with the tender attentions of
the latter as nurse, had cheered them all. Before
he could have any answer from me to this letter, he
wrote again on the 9th as follows : — " Bournemouth,
"fan. 9, 1866.
" My dearest Coleridge,
" Thank you, and thank you again, though too tardily for
your too loving letter. It is a great comfort, as your letters
always are. I have not read it exactly to her, but you may
be sure she loves you with a true sisterly love, and has done
so all along. She has mended a Uttle, our Doctor says,
during the last week. The long nightly faintings have sub
sided, and if she had not caught a cold, wliich disorders her
breath, I fancy we should have had her in our sitting-room
to-day or to-morrow. I think the Doctor expects her depar
ture to be very gradual ; I fear, with dropsical symptoms.
But we try to look on as little as may be ; having been
already brought farther on our way together than we could
reasonably have expected. We do not at aU repent of
having come here, the climate has been unusuaUy moist
and nuid, and we have comforts we could not have had at
Penzance. God reward you, dearest Coleridge, and your
dear wife and chUdren, for all your love to her and me.
" Ever your most affecte, J. K."
He wrote to me again on the 31st of January,

548 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
and early in March ; his friends, and I amongst
them, had been misinformed, as to Mrs. Keble, or
the partial amendment of, which he speaks in the
preceding letter had been represented too favour
ably, and it is touching to see what he says on it.
But it is remarkable also, how amid his distress at
the prospect of his approaching loss, he retained his
interest in what regarded Oxford, and Christian
Education. In order fully to understand some parts
of what he writes, it may be well for me to state
that I had written to him among other things on
the prospects of the new Parliament just about to
open./ It seemed to me that every move, in what
is called the path of Liberal Progress, would in the
end be made good, and I thought that those who,
without reference to party, wished to preserve foun
dations, and all of good built on them, should shape
their course with this conviction on their minds.
And I deprecated the old spirit which not seldom de
fended that which was really objectionable in itself,
merely because it might be considered an out-work,
and because the surrender of it would probably, not
appease the spirit of the invaders. I also wrote in re
gard to the probable course of one in whom I was spe
cially interested, how he desired to pass the coming
Session, his first in Parliament, and of the difficulty
cast on him by the expectations and instances of
his friends. I also gave my opinion of the remark
able, and I may add, somewhat enigmatical book,

Contemplated Changes at Oxford. 549
which he speaks of. In his mind all other Oxford
interests were as nothing in comparison with the
preservation of the faith there, to which he justly
thought sound teaching an indispensable mean. He
had an honest conviction that there was a great deal
of unsound teaching at present, and that it was bear
ing a plentiful harvest. I wish I could believe that
there was no foundation for his fears. Most reluc
tantly I yield to evidence which forces them upon
me. It seems to me as if considerable cleverness,
great respectability of conduct, popular even amiable
manners, and an apparent candour, extending to
every subject and system but one, are waging such
a fight against Christianity as ought to make the
parents of Oxford students anxious ; while, I must
add, the insane and excessive passion for athletics,
as they are called, (indulged in our great schools as
well,) damps industry, and diverts from that severe
mental labour which is among the guards to pre
serve the mind from yielding to sophistry.
Fears, however, I have none as to the ultimate
result ; a battle is being fought, which has been
fought more than once before, and victory has al
ways been on one side ; victory not always turned
to the best account ; but, alas, it must be expected
that there will be many, and those not seldom the
flower of the host, wounded sorely, a few, it is to be
feared, slain in the combat.

550 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
I now give the letters which have occasioned these
remarks : — " Bournemouth,
"Jan. .31, 1866.
" Dearest Coleridge,
" I wish you could have from me as long and hearty
a letter as your too great kindness deserves. As it is, I
can but thank you, 1, for your advice and information about
Mr.  , to whom I will soon write accordingly ; 2. for the
very interesting report of dear John and his proceedings ;
which seem so amiable and dutiful that I cannot but think
he will have a blessing on his work, and perhaps with others
like-minded, on his cause also ; such as may in good mea
sure neutralize the harm you and I might expect from it.
For myself, I am a little sanguine about the Reform ; if it
leaves the Colleges alone, and if the present leaven of N". 90,
so marvellously reviving, go on and prosper. If the latter be
not so, it matters little about other things.
" But my dearest wife, — your kind words go to my heart,
so certain am I that it is far other than you say. Where
Heathcote got his information I cannot guess, but I have
heard more or less from friends far and near in the same
tone. She, dear soul, though there may be sometimes a
sUght rally for half a day, grows on the whole gradually
weaker ; and now I fear her power of taking nourishment
is lessening. Her long faintings are very distressing. You
must not flatter me about that, or anything else.
" I suppose it is the same with many more, but I for
one am certain that whatever bows me down most, is
best for me. " Best love to you all,
" Your most affecte J. K."
" Dear Bessie, our head nurse, is of the same opinion as

L ctters from Keble. 551
I am, so must every one be that watches her; and the
Doctor's encouragement amounts to this, that the worst
symptoms do not come on so fast as he expected."
" Bournemouth,
" 3rd Sunday in Lent,
" {March 4,) 1866.
" Dearest Coleridge,
" I cannot write worthily in any sense to answer your
kind letters, but they always interest me, and so they would
my dear wife, if she were always able to attend to them,
which for a great part of her time, I grieve to say, she is
not. We ought to be very thankful that she is so sweetly
and gently let down, at least, to all appearances, though of
-course we cannot tell how much she suffers ; and she is, I
fancy, very dextrous in concealing such things. However,
she has certainly better nights of late; and the dropsy,
though it does not diminish, does not increase so fast as it
did; moreover, though she likes nothing, she submits to
a good deal of nourishment; so I do not know, (for I
never ask that question,) but I hardly feel as if she were
going quite immediately. Thank you for suggesting books,
though it is little she can bear now, she gets sleepy so soon.
We read Mackenzie's Life long ago ; Robertson's I have not
met with, and I doubt whether I should, (or she would,)
like it ; ' honest doubts,' as one calls them, are not very
pleasant on a sick bed. For the same reason I don't care
to read Ecce Homo, but it wiU be a very agreeable disap
pointment if the writer turns out a Christian at last ; and I
wiU pull off my hat to him, and beg his pardon. I hope
you wUl read Miss Mackenzie's Life of Mrs. Robertson in
Zululand. She and her husband appear to me the Queen

552 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
and King of Missionaries, at least, among the second order,
for I don't talk of Bishops 
" J. H.' N. sent me his book ; it seems to me, logically,
a complete failure, though of course in parts extremely good
and beautiful. (I mean a failure as to the Doctrine of the
B. Virgin's ' supremacy ;') the only thing that cants me is
the fact about the Eastern Church, which one knew other
wise. I am very well, thank you ; ashamed to be so well.
I have no nursing, my sister takes it off my hands ; I wish
she may stand it. With kind love to all, your most affec
tionate J. K."
I have but one more letter to add, the last of the
long series : — " Bournemouth,.
"March 19, 1866.
" My dearest Coleridge,
" I am too long as usual, but you will understand and
excuse it.
" Since I wrote she has been gradually getting weaker,
suffering more and more from sickness, palpitation, and
sometimes acute pain in the heart; and now for several
days her pulse, and power to take nourishment, have given
way. The doctor was here four times yesterday, and we
watch her now not from day to day, but from hour to hour.
D. G. her sister keeps up pretty well, and as for myself, I
eat, drink, and sleep heartily ; so you need be in no care
about me, so far. I do not know well just now how to go
on writing about anything else, so I will just give you all our
dear love, and sign myself your most affectionate, J. K."
It may be supposed that I do not close without
some emotion my extracts from a correspondence,

Letters from Keble. 553
beginning in 181 1, and continued without interrup
tion to the 19th of March, 1866. Few things I am
more grateful for, (perhaps I may own I am a little
proud of it,) than my having preserved from the be
ginning Keble's letters, and those of another dear
friend, Arnold. The letters, like their writers, differ
in many respects ; and I will not pronounce on their
interest as compositions ; neither of the two when
writing to me ever thought of composing what should
be read by others than myself; but the letters of
both are, as they themselves were, one in goodness
and honesty of heart, one in overflowing affectionate-
ness of feeling and expression.
During these last weeks Keble was, of course, in
correspondence with many persons, intimate friends
and anxious inquirers ; sometimes from Mrs. Keble's
inability to write, he answered letters addressed to
her. I have copies before me of three which he
wrote to Miss Mackenzie, the sister of the Bishop.
He was deeply interested in the Missionary work in
which her sister with her husband had been engaged ;
we have seen that he calls them the King and Queen
of Missionaries. One of these letters I will venture
to insert here, although I know I may be thought to
have printed too many of the same character ; for
beside the circumstances under which it was written,
this seems to me to have a special beauty and force,
which make it wrong to omit it : —

5 54 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
" Bournemouth,
Jarty 23, 1866.
" My dear kind Friend,
" Just one line to say how both our hearts,, my dearest
wife's and my own, were smitten down this morning by the
sad news from C. Yonge, of your sad and, to us, unexpected
loss. I dread to think of the wound it must be to you :
only He who put into your heart such deep affections and
sustains them there, has the power and the love also to
mitigate the wounds, which His wise and good Providence
sees fit to make.
" You must think, dear Friend, of the mysterious moment
when He, who is Love, condescended to endure the bitter
ness of His Mother's grief as an addition (so to speak) to
His Own; and thereby sanctified the agonies we have
to bear in watching the sufferings of our beloved ones.
Luke other pains they will be sweet, if we can be helped
so to join them to His Cross.
" But how vain of me to say all this to one who has had
your experience ! God grant that I may be saying it not
in vain to myself! For indeed I have much need,, and am
likely to have more. Dearest Charlotte continues in most
respects, much as when I wrote to you last; the doctor
comes every day and pronounces the pulse much as it was,
and allows her to be brought for an hour or two into our
sitting-room. But I am sure there is a gradual decay of
strength ; one by one things become too hard for her, and
it is a greater effort for her to keep up ; yet she does keep
up in spirit most comfortably. Your kind heart would
rejoice if you could see what refreshment she finds in
your most seasonable present of the sheets of Mrs. Robert
son's 'Life;' she took to it the moment it came, and

Letter from Keble. 555
from hourto hour, day after day, she enjoys it being read
to her. I never saw any book more successful apparently
in beguiling hour after hour of weariness and breathlessness.
I now really hope, that both it and the ' Net' will be a great
success. "God comfort and reward you for all your trials and
all your love. " Ever yours very affectionately,
"J. KEBLE."
It will be seen how down to the very last of these
letters from Bournemouth all Keble's thoughts were
for his dear wife, and how unconscious he seems to
have been of any falling off in his own health. Mr.
Moor informs us, that when he came there, he had,
as was his custom, proffered to Mr. Bennett assist
ance, if needed ; which he with a wise consideration
declined to accept from him. But he was regular,
until his very last illness, in his attendance on the
daily services in the church. His favourite help in
his private prayer was the Paradisus Anima, and
he had so familiarized himself to it, that he not
uncommonly prayed in Latin. On Sundays and
Thursdays, when he regularly attended the mid-day
Communion,- it was in his hand all the morning be
fore he went to church. On those mornings it was
with difficulty he could be persuaded to take any
breakfast ; for many years it had been his custom,
whenever he was to celebrate in the course of the
day, to eat nothing before. At church he usually

556 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
sat in one place, and the window over that place
has now been filled with stained glass out of respect
for his memory. He was, I may mention here, a
strong advocate for the system of free and unap
propriated seats, which he urged strongly on Mr,
Bennett. It may be that circumstances prevented,
its adoption at Bournemouth. He therefore took
a seat, but never used it, and told the clerk to use
it as free. It is right to add that the seats in Hurs
ley Church were still in his time appropriated, which
he desired much to change. It seems to me thai;
a wide distinction in principle exists between pay
ment and simple appropriation, and that if this last
be fairly extended to the poor as well as the rich,
with a limitation to secure punctuality in attendance, ,
there is much to be said for it. Payment has been,
is, and ever will be, simply mischievous. He read a
good deal ; for himself especially St. Chrysostom on
St. John, (for he had not even now abandoned the
thought of his promised Commentary). He read;
to Mrs. Keble the Services daily; and from time to
time, frequently it would seem, he administered to
her the Holy Communion. In the evenings the little
party would meet in her bedroom, (which, indeed,)
was his also for a large part of the illness,) and the
lessons were read usually by Mr. James Young, of
whom I have spoken before. Sometimes he would
read to himself the first Lessons in the original.
No one can doubt that he prayed much for her ;

Beginning of L ast Illness. 557
more than was commonly observed ; he had a life
long faith in the efficacy of intercessory prayer, but
he shrunk from observation when he prayed alone ;
more than once, on occasions of special distress, or in
terest, he was observed kneeling in the act of prayer
behind a door, where it was not likely he should
be seen.
With all his sorrow, and his own weakness, which
no doubt was great, he still bore up ; and down to
little more than a week before his death he took
his walks, seemed refreshed by them, and retained
his old interest in the objects of nature around him;
especially, it was noted by his young and loving
companion, the ever-varying sea, the ships, the cliffs,
the clouds, the sky.
Down to this time, so far as I can perceive, no
new or special anxiety was felt for his own health.
Even the sufferer, about whom all were anxious,
seemed to have but one real trouble, how he would
bear her departure, how he would be taken care of
after she was gone. She told her maid one day,
that she should not mind dying, if it were not for
him ; that she was much afraid for him, he seemed
to bear up too well. She was told in answer, that
his heart had seemed as if it would burst but a night
or two before. He had had through life one re
markable blessing, that no trouble by day affected
his sleep ; he mentioned this once to a friend, and
in his usual way of self-disparagement, attributed it

558 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
to want of feeling. She put the truer and better
construction on it ; she would often say, " He lays
aside his anxieties with his prayers ; he does what
he can, the issue is with God, with Whom he is con
tent to leave it ; therefore he is still, and sleeps like
a child." But he was " drawing daily nearer home," and his
Master now saw fit to call His servant to Himself.
The illness, under which he sunk, lasted just a week,
and seemed to be occasioned at first by his rising on
the 22nd of March as early as six o'clock by mis
take, by his then using a cold instead of warm bath,
by his praying for some time by his wife's bed-side,
and then standing to read the Lessons to her, all
without any food ; in the act of reading he is said
to have fainted ; whether that was paralytic, I do
not know, but he was never able to use his lower
limbs again. Once when he had been helped into
Mrs. Keble's room, he managed to stand by himself,
to cheer her ; and drew himself up, a gesture his
friends will well remember as familiar with him, and
playfully said, " Richard's himself again."
The severity of the symptoms, however, increased.
In about two days after, he was unwillingly wheeled
out of her room ; and they who for so many years
had had but one heart, and one mind, parted for
life, with one silent look at each other. I do not
pursue the details of the remaining two or three
days ; he was sometimes wandering, sometimes con-

His Death. 559

scious, sometimes clear-minded ; whether wandering,
or clear-minded, he was constantly intent on holy
things, or in actual prayer ; he uttered fragments,
or ejaculations in the former case, which shewed the
habitual prayerfulness of his heart ; he repeated,
or he composed, as it seemed, prayers ; the Lord's
Prayer he uttered most commonly.
He fell asleep on the 29th of March, about one in
the morning.
I have been treated with so much kindness and
confidence by those who were on the spot, or had
full means of knowing with certainty everything that
passed, that I could have multiplied these notices of
my dear friend's last illness, and dying hours ; but
the sick room, and the chamber of death, are sacred ;
and my only fear is, that I may have trespassed
already on their sanctity. This I felt, that I was in
no danger of revealing anything that was unworthy
of him. One anecdote I must add, for it is the
highest testimonial direct and indirect from the best
of witnesses, his dying wife.
The mournful family repaired from his death-bed
to her room, and knelt round her bed, and prayed ;
she besought them to return thanks for her to God,
that he had been taken first, that she, not he, had to
bear the trial of surviving ; but she expressed a
hope that she might be released so soon as to ad
mit of both being buried at the same time in one
grave.

560 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
Then she requested her maid to fetch her " Chris
tian Year," and turning to the two last stanzas ofthe
verses on Good Friday, "I know," said she, "these
were in his dying thoughts :" —
" Lord of my heart, by Thy last cry,
Let not Thy blood on earth be spent —
Lo, at Thy feet I fainting lie,
Mine eyes upon Thy wounds are bent,
Upon Thy streaming wounds my weary eyes
Wait like the parched earth on April skies.
" Wash me, and dry these bitter tears,
O let my heart no further roam,
'Tis Thine by vows, and hopes, and fears,
Long since — 0 call Thy wanderer home ;
To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side,
Where only broken hearts their sin and shame
may hide.''
There is no exaggeration in saying that the heart
of England was deeply stirred by the news of his
death. There was a grief as real and as widely
spread through different classes of society, and I
may say with confidence, through all denominations
of Christians, as any death has occasioned in my
recollection. We felt that we had lost a true Saint,
a true Poet ; a Saint whose holiness and purity no
verse he ever composed could blemish ; a Poet, whose
genius was elevated and sanctified by the perpetual
heavenward inspiration under which he wrote. We

Memorial to Keble. 561
had lost a guide, a counsellor, a friend, so humble,
so loving, so tender, that no one, not the veiy school
boy in his little difficulties, nor even the young
woman in the troubles of her heart, (I speak from
knowledge,) shrunk from addressing him for help,
or advice.
He was buried on the 6th of April, 1866, in his
own churchyard, close to the grave of Elizabeth
Keble, as that was near to the grave where the re
mains of my little God-child, Godfrey Heathcote,
whom he had baptized, and was so tenderly in
terested in, are laid. As might be expected, the
high and low, the rich and poor, the old and young,
crowded to the funeral; it was no common cere
monial ; Mr. Moor speaks of the day truly as never
to be forgotten by those who were present.
As yet no cross or monument has been erected at
his grave ; (he himself had placed a stone cross, mo
delled from a beautiful Irish one, at the grave of
his sister). But in the floor of the chancel, on the
spot where his body rested during the service, the
parishioners have placed a very beautiful brass cross
designed by Mr. Butterfield, which records his name,
the period of his incumbency, the day when he fell
asleep in the Lord, and his age, seventy-four years.
This cross is let into a stone, round the edge of
which on a strip of brass is inscribed a memo
rable portion of our Litany, which he so loved :
O o

562 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
" BY THINE AGONY AND BLOODY SWEAT ; BY THY
CROSS AND PASSION ; BY THY PRECIOUS DEATH
AND BURIAL; BY THY GLORIOUS RESURRECTION
AND ASCENSION ; AND BY THE COMING OF THE
HOLY GHOST, GOOD LORD, DELIVER US."
It will be to be regretted, if the graves of Keble
and his loving wife should be longer left, I will not
say neglected, (at present there is no reason to fear
that,) but without some permanent mark and pro
tection. There may be differences of opinion how
that may best be effected ; but it is dangerous to
rely too much on a continuance of the same warmth
of pious feeling with which these graves are now re
garded ; and the green-sod grave, which is so pleasing
to the eye arid to the imagination) with its flowers re
newed from time to time by pious hands, is yet from
its Very nature mouldering and perishable. Accord
ing to the proverb, what is everybody's business is
no one's ; and after the lapse of a few years, the
pilgrim who comes to bend over the grave, may find
it difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish it from its
neighbours. On the other hand, I agree that there is
something almost fepulsive to the feelings with which
we regard the resting-place of such remains as these,
in pressing them down with a heavy mass of stone.
Is it impossible to devise something which may
permanently mark the spot, and fence it from viola
tion, and yet leave the grave to be seen by those

Manorial to Keble. 565
who visit it, and open to be piously decked from
time to time with the flowers, and specially the wild
flowers, of the season.
I am not competent to suggest how this may
best be done, but let us not lay ourselves open to
the imputation of negligent delay now, nor trust
too much to the continuing piety of our posterity.
Who, (says the Lover at the Grave of his Mistress,,
in terms not inappropriate to Keble's) : —
" Who, when I am turn'd to clay,
ShaU duly to her grave repair,
And pluck the ragged moss away
And weeds that have ' no business there ?'
" And who with pious hands shaU bring
The flowers she cherish'd, snowdrops cold,.
And violets that unheeded spring,
To scatter o'er her hallow'd mould?"
It will not be necessary, I think, for me to enlarge
in any detail on Keble's character ; however imper
fectly I have constructed this narrative, a tolerably
accurate notion of that will have been collected from
the numerous letters I have printed. These letters
do not give, indeed, a full measure of his ability, or
of his acquirements ; he wrote them rapidly, often
when over-fatigued, on the spur of the moment, as
the occasion called for them, with no care for the
writing, no notion of their being preserved ; and

564 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
yet I must not shrink from saying that I think they
are of high value merely as epistolary compositions ;
but at all events, they paint him truly as he was.
A biographer is usually expected to try to convey
some impression of the person and countenance of
his subject ; and this is often a most difficult part
of his office. It will have been seen that a young. lady,
to whom I am very much obliged, writes of him in
Scotland as "a plain man ;" if she intended that. he
was ugly, or even commonplace, I should venture
to differ from her entirely ; if she intended that his
face was one easily understood, I should also dis
agree. I look on the opinion of the practised portrait
painter as of the highest authority on such a sub
ject ; it is his business to study the countenance,
and it is part of his art to render its true character.
When Mr. Richmond drew the portrait of him in
the prime of his manhood, which was afterwards en
graved by Mr. S. Cousins, he told me that out of so
many as he had drawn, he never found one so diffi
cult to comprehend. Curiously enough, when Mr.
Cousins had studied the successful picture, and had
brought his engraving to an unsuccessful first proof,
he told me he had never met with a more unintel
ligible portrait, and begged to see the original. Ke
ble and he accordingly breakfasted with me, and
afterwards he also gave him a sitting ; " Now," said
he, " I understand the picture," and he certainly suc
ceeded admirably in his rendering of it. Mr. Rich-

Keble's Portrait. 565

mond, it is well known, drew Keble's head again in
old age, and he pronounced it then most beautiful,
and beautiful is the drawing, and, though I venture
to think a little wanting in strength, also true on the
whole. For that is not the true portrait which gives
the face as it strikes careless and commonplace be
holders, but that which gives to congenial observers
in the most agreeable way, I do not say an excep
tional gleam of light or beauty, but the look that
tells most vividly the characteristic workings of the
mind and heart in their best moments.
To me both the portraits are full of deep interest,
the earlier and the later both- — each brings him back
to me as he was ; in the earlier, he has some of the
merry defiance he could assume in argument ; in
the latter, I see the sad tenderness of his advanced
years. Keble had not regular features ; he could
not be called a handsome man, but he was one to
be noticed anywhere, and remembered long ; his
forehead and hair beautiful in all ages ; his eyes,
full of play, intelligence, and emotion, followed you
while you spoke ; and they lighted up, especially
with pleasure, or indignation, as it might be, when
he answered you. The most pleasing photograph is
one in which he is standing by Mrs. Keble's side ;
she is sitting with a book in her hand. The later
photographs are to me very unpleasant. I will at
tempt no more particular description, for I feel how
little definite I can convey in writing.

566 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
But there is a much more important and effectual
portrait painting than such as I can give of the
countenance, and before I lay down my pen, I must
yet crave the indulgence of my readers to an ac
count, as short as I can make it, of him in his minis
trations as a Parish Priest. I speak thus guardedly,
for I have been helped in this matter so copiously,
and authentically, that it is difficult to be very
short. The characteristic of his ministrations, in church,
or elsewhere, was, as might have been expected,
that which was the animating and pervading spirit
of all his life, a perfectly simple and sincere sense of
his own uriworfhiness, combined with a hearty con
viction that every talent he had received, all his
strength, all his time, all his energies, were con
secrated to God's service ; and that service so high
and holy, that it was never to be thought of even
but with the most reverential feeling of which he
was capable. This last was never more marked
than when he was engaged in the administration
of the Sacraments. He was not what is commonly
called an eloquent reader or preacher ; his voice was
not powerful, nor his ear perfect for harmony of
sound ; nor had he in the popular sense great gifts
of delivery ; but in spite of all this, you could not
but be impressed deeply both by his reading and
his preaching. When he read, you saw that he felt,
and he made you feel, that he was the ordained

Character and Habits as Parish Priest. $6j
servant of God ; delivering His words, or leading
you, but as one of like infirmities and sins with
your own, in your prayers. When he preached, it
was with an affectionate almost plaintive earnest
ness, which was very moving. His sermons were
at all times full of that scriptural knowledge which
was a remarkable quality in him as a divine. Like
one of the old Fathers, he seemed to have caught,
by continual and devout study, somewhat of the
idiom and manner of Scripture. In passing, let me
press on my readers to profit by the sermons now
in course of publication by his brother. Several of
them were preached almost immediately after his
Ordination, when he was not much over twenty-
three. I think they will be found remarkable, among
other things, for their soundness and moderation, as
well as for more popular qualities.
His reverential feelings manifested themselves not
merely in church, but in many almost involuntary
habits of voice or gesture, in his family prayers, or
in conversation, or reading. His hand would in
prayer be raised so as to overshadow his eyes, or
his voice would sink. Once a friend was about to
read to him the daily prayers used by a poor Italian
woman ; he raised his hand to his forehead in the
way I speak of, caught a low chair, and knelt on it,
as if that were the only proper position for him while
the prayers were read.
It was but a part of this disposition which ap-

568 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
peared on many occasions in regard to his deceased
father ; he clung to his old ways ; among other things,
he always used Bishop Wilson's daily prayers ; in
the first instance, I believe, because he had used
them ; and when he meant to accord strongly with
some statement of doctrine, he would say, " That
seems to me just what my father taught me." Any
one who had known his father, or mother, or his
sister Sarah, who had died young, was always a wel
come visitor at the vicarage.
He spent a considerable portion of his time in
the school. I will now give Mr. Young's account
in his own words, for I cannot mend them : —
" He was most scrupulous in going to the Sunday School
from 9.15 to 10.30, in the morning, and from 2 to 3 in the
afternoon. I think it might be truly said, that unless he
was hindered by illness, (which happily occurred very rarely,)
or by some special call of parochial duty, he never missed
during the 30 years he was at Hursley. Besides this, it
was his habit for several years to go to the Boys' School
every morning soon after 9, and teach the first class until
service time at 10, taking them through one part of the
Bible after another. On Friday there was an examination
in writing in the work which had been done during the
week. This he did, whoever might be staying with him,
and whatever letters, interesting or perplexing, he might
have received. School time often came on him before he
was ready, but as soon as he became aware that the clock
had struck, away he went. Many of his friends must re
member to have seen him hurrying across the Lawn, and

Character and Habits as Parish Priest. 569
down the Long Walk which led to the School, when he
fancied that he was late. But he was never in a hurry in
his teaching; he was always patient, both with his Scholars,
and with his subject ; dealing with it very simply and mi
nutely, yet very deeply and practically. He invariably
stood when he was teaching, and that not so much be
cause he thought it gave him more command over the
boys' attention, but as it would seem because he fancied it
helped to keep him up to the mark, and hindered him from
becoming listless. Indeed, in everything he took in hand,
if I may venture to say it, he always did his best. He
never spared himself any labour of body or mind; but
whatever he undertook, a small matter or a great, he did
it with all his might, often with much misgiving and com
plaint, but always with an honest patient endeavour to give
his whole mind to it."
In connection with this subject I will insert here
an extract from a letter, in which Archdeacon Allen
gives me some account of an examination by him
self of Keble's school. It occurred a good many
years ago, when he was an Inspector of Schools,
and it was made at the request of the Bishop : —
" Sir W. Heathcote was present. Mr. Keble watched the
examination closely, but did not, so far as I recollect, make
a single observation. The children, as I thought, passed
an excellent examination, but I did not quite feel at home
with them. Perhaps I felt awed by Mr. Keble's silent
presence. The examination lasted from two till after five.
It was a beautiful summer evening, and Mr. Keble then
proposed to walk to a part of the parish, where, if I re-

57° Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
collect right, he' said, the green sand joined the chalk.
We mounted a hill without a word. At last Mr. Keble
broke silence and said, ' I find that you teach children on
a different principle from what I do,' ' Oh,' I said, ' I hope
not, please explain ; I am sure I must be wrong, and I wish
to mend.' ' No, I am not sure that you are wrong ; but
you teach them analytically, and I teach them synthetic
cally.' I said, 'Your words were perplexing to ms, and
now I am in still greater perplexity; what can you mean?'
¦' For example, you asked them what parable teaches us to
persevere in prayer under every seeming discouragement;
I should have read with them St. Luke xviii. 1—7, and
then asked them what lesson do you learn from this?"
I think we must all agree that Keble's mode was
the most helpful to children ; and this was the spirit
-of his ordinary dealing with them.
He was always anxious to win their love ; and his
¦simplicity and playfulness, as well as his special fond*
ness for the young, made this easy for him ; but he
was not afraid of sharp rebuke, or discipline, where
he thought the circumstances made them proper.
The principle which directed his general ministra
tions, prevailed also in this particular : —
" He never forgot," I am using Mr. Young's words, "that
he was a Steward intrusted with the souls of men whom he
had to deal with for their good, tenderly, or severely, as
there might be occasion, and with the holy things of God,
which he was to guard from dishonour."
Lying before me is a letter dated September 9,

Keble's Catechizing in Church. 571
1839, to Mr. Wilson, in which, after much about
a new and higher school in contemplation, he writes
thus characteristically about the parish school : —
"I am more in doubt on that score about the other
School, the people here are so utterly averse to discipline.
Just think of me last Sunday in humble imitation of you,
inflicting a little wholesome Stick Liquorice on Ja. B. and
Dick H. ; and then on my desiring old R. to repeat the
dose on some small culprits yesterday, fancy his flatly re
fusing, in presence of the whole school, and saying he
might be turned off, but he would not do any such thing ;
although those before punished had shewn themselves, as
I told him they would, specially attached to me in conse
quence. Of course I had nothing to do but to send away
the boys and expostulate a little quietly with him ; but he
was resolved, after his manner, having no doubt been in
structed behind the curtain by Mrs. R. So I must get him
to resign, and make an amicable retreat, for I shall not at
all like to part with him otherwise than friends."
I do not know what became of Dick H., but
Ja. B. a sometime after was recommended by Keble
to a situation, as the best boy in his parish ; and he
has remained ever since in the same employ, main-
¦ I am told that I have mistaken between two brothers, and that the
recommendation and character which I have here given to Ja. B. in
truth belong to Edwin B. One ought to do justice even in what may
seem a slight matter ; and I may add from excellent authority that
both Edwin and James have continued to do credit to their teaching,
^and still manifest on all occasions their love and reverence for their
teacher.

5 72 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
taining the highest character, and bearing the best
testimony to this wholesome castigation.
Keble's mode of catechizing was, I believe, not a
usual one. He did not confine himself to the Church
Catechism. He thought any opportunity of display
by the children was much to be avoided ; he therefore
prepared them carefully beforehand in the questions
he meant to ask ; if one. could not answer a ques
tion, he did not put it to another, but helped the
one who failed ; he always repeated the answers
aloud, that the parents might follow the subject in
telligently. He usually took a short portion, whether
of the Catechism or Scripture ; and when the cate
chizing ended, lectured from the pulpit on what had
been the subject of his questioning. He generally
took boys and girls on alternate Sundays.
Mr. Young has been so kind as to furnish me with
the heads of one or two specimens ; it is worth while
to give one. He was catechizing girls on Easter
Monday, and his object was to shew how little' girls
might take pattern from St. Mary Magdalene : —
" He first drew from them with some minuteness the
several particulars of her history in connection with the
Resurrection, and then dwelt on the lessons they should
derive from it, e.g. that they should prepare over-night for
the work of the next day ; that they should rise early ; that
in their difficulties they should go to those who were set
over them ; that they should stay by their Lord at all times,
or as near Him as possible ; if they were unhappy, they

Dealing with the Sick and Distressed. 573
should still look after Him, then they would find that He
would shew Himself tp them in ways they least thought of;
as He was with St. Mary Magdalene as a gardener; only
they would not be allowed to touch Him all at once. He
would train them gradually, and draw them up to Himself;
and they must not think it hard, for it was His way with
His own Apostles."
' This was followed the next day by catechizing
the boys on the visit of St. Peter and St. John to
the Sepulchre, dealt with in the same way. It may
well be understood how practically and how gene
rally useful such a system might be in hands like
Keble's. He made a point at all times of the chil
dren having their Bibles in church, and following the
Lessons ; and for some years it was his daily custom
to call up some of them after the service, and ques
tion them for a few minutes in the two chapters
which had been read. No wonder the Hursley chil
dren had more than the usual knowledge of the
Scriptures. I have already in a former chapter spoken of him
in regard to Confirmation ; after it, he was always
anxious that the young people should not lose sight
of him, as he never did of them. His letters when
from home are full of enquiries about doubtful young
men, or women ; and of messages, anxious, yet very-
considerate : —
"Why was he perfidious with me in not coming to H. G,
or, at least, not coming to me to say why he kept away ? If

574 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
you think it more likely to answer, you need only say that
I depend on having a call from him as soon as ever I get
home." With regard to the visitation of the sick and poor,
and those who were in any trouble, his principle and
the spirit of his practice may be summed up with
exact truth in the words of St. Paul, " Ourselves
your servants for Jesus' sake." He used habitually
to speak of it as waiting on them, and, as I have
said before, you could not be any time in the Vicar
age as a guest without becoming aware how, without
the least ostentation, this principle was acted on as
a matter of course ; equally, I must add, by husband
and wife. In his practice as regarded the distribution
of relief, and all perhaps that may be separated from
teaching and direct ministering to spiritual wants,.
he was very glad to commit much to his wife and
other assistants ; in them he placed the most gene
rous confidence, and gave them a wide discretion.
This arose in part from his self-distrust ; when con
sulted by them, he would say, " You will do it better
than I can direct ;" or, " I am sure to say the wrong
thing;" but then they made the fullest communica
tions to him ; and his knowledge of persons and cir
cumstances was remarkable. One lady, (and at the
expense of giving her perhaps a moment's pain, I am
bound in justice to mention her name, Miss Baker,)
with many other important calls on her time, yet

Dealing with the Sick and Distressed. 575
worked under him in this way for seventeen years ;.
he would suggest to her cases, but he left her to
work under the most general instructions ; sugges
tions they might rather be called ; she reported to
him what she did, and he listened with the deepest
interest, sometimes with tears in his eyes. When he
was absent, she wrote to him ; and if she were ab
sent, he communicated with her on the subject of
the poor : —
"Many thanks," writes he on one occasion from Pen
zance, " for your account of the people. Poor dear W. H.
I was sorry to lose him out of the place, and I feel this more
of a loss : he is one of those who have twined themselves
round one's Hursley's memories. I am glad his wife did
& good part by him at last. I am glad also about J. S., in
whom I have always thought there was much good. My
heart aches a little about the poor S — 's, especially since I
feel that I have neglected them. It is also but one instance
out of many. Our kind Christmas love to you, all and each,,
from top to toe."
Writing to her when he was at home, and she ab
sent, he says : —
"We have had two deaths since I saw you. T. G, Mrs.
F.'s servant, about the most exemplary young man in the
place, was cut off last Sunday by something like diptheria,
after two days' illness ; and poor dear W. B. died the day
before yesterday, and is to be buried on Sunday. It is very
pleasant to see his family, wife and all the sons and daugh
ters, in what a Christian way they have waited on and spoken
of him all along, and I am much comforted about him."

576 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
These extracts, taken by themselves, may be said
to shew nothing remarkable, but it is to be remem
bered they are but specimens of what was his or
dinary course. And it continued to the end ¦
in the last month of his life, when he might have
seemed borne down by incessant care for his suf
fering wife, and his own unheeded increase of dis-
orderment, Miss Baker visited Bournemouth ; he saw
her every day during her stay, talked over individual
cases with her, and grudged no time so spent.
Working by others, however, did not prevent him
from occupying himself much in personal visitation ;
in this he was unwearied, in all weathers, at all hours ;
and sometimes to the injury of his own health. His
was truly a ministry of consolation, and of cheer
ing; he had consideration for all the special cir
cumstances of each person under his charge. There
was, for example, a poor cripple, deaf and dumb,
whom he constantly found time to visit, because the
man thought he could understand the motion of his
lips ; and he would hold conversations with him be
sides, by writing on a slate ; then to amuse him in
his solitary life, he would set him sums on the slate
when he went away, and look them over at his next
visit, and correct them.
He " made friends," as one may say, with the in
mates of the Workhouse, especially the old men, and
was frequent in his visits there. He got them to the
Daily Services, and, seating them on the front benches,

Dealing with the Sick and Distressed. 577
addressed himself specially to them, as he read the
second Lesson, reading slowly, and with pauses, al
most as if he were alone with them, and were speak
ing to them. He was rewarded not seldom by
finding how much they learned of the Gospels in
this way.
Indeed his manner of reading the Scriptures was
remarkable : so simple, that your first impression of
it was that it was the reading of a very intelligent
and reverent child, yet so good, that he made you
understand them more, I think, than any one else.
At the same time he conveyed to you in some mea
sure his own feeling of reverence. He always paused
before he began, and would often raise his hand to
his forehead in the manner I have described before ;
and so again at the close, he paused before he said,
"Here endeth," &c.
He had made a little service by way of help
and suggestion to himself, for the visitation of the
sick : —
" He commonly began," here again I use Mr. Young's
own words, " with the first Prayer for Good Friday, ' this
Thy servant' being substituted for 'this Thy family;' then
there would be always some kind of Confession, very
frequently the 51s' Psalm, (indeed I believe he very seldom,
if ever, said prayers with any sick person without intro
ducing some verses at least of that Psalm) ; then came the
prayers in the Visitation Service, and often Collects, special
^petitions being introduced here and there to suit the par-
Pp

578 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
ticular case, sometimes in his own words, sometimes in the
words of the Psalms, or of the Prayer-book. When death
was imminent, over and above the Commendatory Prayer,
I have known him repeat at intervals verses or passages of
Scripture, interspersed with short suffrages and ejaculations,,
extending over a considerable space of time.
" In cases of prolonged sickness he tried to pay his visit
on particular days, that it might be expected and prepared
for; and if the sick person were near at hand, he would
visit as nearly as possible at the same hour every day, his
wish being in this as in every thing else, to adapt himself to
what he thought would be most acceptable to those, ibr
whom he ministered. One case I specially remember of an
old woman, whom he went to visit in this way every evening
regularly, just before she settled for the night."
The Daily Services he prized much for others ; for
himself they were refreshment and delight, never
palling ; he never failed to attend when at home un
less absolutely prevented, and if he could only be
at part of the service he went to that.
His population was scattered over a considerable
area, and after Morning Service he would commonly
arrange with his curates what cases each were to
visit in the course of the day ; not that he entirely
gave up any districts to them ; for he made a point,
so long as he was able, of visiting each himself in
the course of every week, walking while he was
strong enough, and latterly driving.
In all these ministrations great simplicity and
paternal loving-kindness were the characteristics,

Character and Habits as Parish Priest. 579
especially in the administration of the Holy Eucha
rist to the sick; he would shake hands with all
present, and if any neighbours attended, he always
thanked them for so doing : —
"The lack of a regular system of discipline he tried to
supply in such ways as he could, making a point of finding
some opportunity of reproving notorious offenders, and
setting some mark upon them in the hope (to use his own
frequent quotation) 'that by making their faces ashamed,
they might be led to seek the Lord.' On some occasions,
in the case of disgraceful marriages, he has substituted for
the exhortation or sermon in the Marriage Service a short
address, in which he remonstrated earnestly and plainly
with the young people. Little were they whom he then,
or at other times reproved, aware of the intense anxiety
with which he watched their look and bearing under re
proof." I am afraid I have been long on this part of my
subject, but if my readers could see the interesting
store which lies before me, and from which perhaps
I have not made the best selection after all, they
would, I beheve, forgive me. But I must not any
longer abuse their indulgence, and enough has been.
done I trust upon the whole, to satisfy them that if
Keble was a scholar, a divine, a remarkably gifted
poet, if he were exemplary as a friend, a brother, son,
and husband, so he was admirable in the discharge
of his duties as a parish priest. These last, without
unwisely weighing one obligation against another,

580 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
he did esteem most pressing ; he thought his calling
beyond all others holy, his mission in our Church
from supreme authority, his task such as he never
could believe he performed, or could perform," ex
cept imperfectly and unworthily. But as he adored
the greatness and majesty, so he lovingly trusted
in the mercy of his Master, Redeemer, and Com
forter.

WHAT I could do in writing the story of this dear
friend I have now done, and ' I can truly say that
the severest judgment which can be passed on my
workmanship will hardly be more severe than I am
conscious of its deserving. But I will say no more of
this. I must not finally lay down my pen before
I have reverted to the sick room at Bournemouth.
There, for about six weeks, to the surprise of all,
Mrs. Keble still lingered, waiting in suffering and
great weakness, yet without impatience, the sum
mons which she earnestly desired. It was vouch
safed to her on the nth of May, and on the 18th
she was laid by her husband's side ; a double grave
had been prepared in the first instance. The order
of her funeral was arranged according to that of his,
except that her own female friends bore her palL
At the time of her death I inserted a short notice
of her in the " Guardian ;" no one I believe questioned
that what I said of her was true ; but more than one

Character of Mrs. Keble. 581
well-qualified judge pronounced it insufficient, and
as doing her scant justice on the whole. Two of
them were ladies, who spoke upon a knowledge of
her much more intimate than my own ; they had
known her in the parish, in society, in her own house,
in health, such as she was ever granted, and in sick
ness they were certainly right. I unavoidably wrote
in haste, and did not recall to my mind all that even
I myself had been witness to.
She was indeed, as I then said, a genuinely kind,
humble-hearted, affectionate, and pious woman ; and
she adapted herself with zeal to the special calls
made on her as Keble's wife : with him she identified
herself as much as she could ; his friends were her
friends ; in his duties she took her proper part, cheer
fully making exertions that were almost beyond her
strength ; his principles she took for her own ; and
with the truest sense of what an interval existed be
tween him and herselfj she yet laboured in all things
to be his helpmate.
, The schools, the poor, the sick of Hursley, must
long remember her with affectionate gratitude ; the
neighbours, the friends, the surviving relatives of
both must long cherish the memory of her, who con
tributed with such grace and lively cheerfulness to
adorn and render completely delightful the Vicarage
of Hursley ; and so filled up the measure of the hap
piness of John Keble's life.
All this is true ; but it fails to convey an adequate

582 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
notion with how sound an intellect and firm pur-*
pose she contributed not seldom to support her hus
band in doubts and difficulties ; and how she cheered
and gave him confidence when he too much dis
trusted himself, or looked despondingly on efforts he
might be making to accomplish great objects.
Nor does it by any means do justice to the won
derful piety and cheerful resignatiori with which she
bore for so many years the trial laid on her by
disease, always wearing and weakening her, often
acute to the last degree. Truly might be said of
her what I once ventured to say of another dear
sufferer : —
" — Her smiles at daily greeting cheer
The hearts whence hope hath well-nigh flown \
Her smiles ; and yet she had a tear
For every sorrow but her own."
SfiUfittugcant in paw.

Postscript. rg,
POSTSCRIPT.
I HAD requested my son, the present Solicitor-
General, to furnish me with his recollections of his
last interview with J. Keble. Too late, however, to
enable him to comply with my wish in time to in
sert the answer in its proper place in the text : I add
it therefore as a Postscript :— " i, Sussex Square,
St. Stephen, 1868.
" You ask me, my dear father, to do the most difficult
thing in the world, to put down simply upon paper what I
recoUect of my last sight of Mr. Keble. The impression of
it is indelible, but I have not the power of conveying to
others that which made it so. So much depends in such
a matter on looks, on silence, on manner, on the reve
rence wliich education had implanted, and which know
ledge ripened and strengthened; on a thousand things
which words cannot convey, and can hardly even suggest ;
that I am afraid I can be of little service to you. But
this is what I can remember.
" Being on the Circuit at Winchester, and my work being
over, I went on the 17th or 18th July, 1865, to Hursley, to
see Mr. Keble. The Oxford University contest was just
¦over, and Mr. Hardy had been elected; a result which Mr.
Keble had done his best to prevent, and which, with all
his respect for (and every one must respect) Mr. Hardy's
character and abUity, he regarded as disastrous to the Uni
versity and to the Church.
" I found Mr. Keble, in spite of his late illness, as bright
in manner, and as clear in judgment, as ever I had seen
him. His faculties were quite unclouded, and all his con-

584 Memoir of the Rev, John Keble.
versation, though full of grief at the result of the Oxford
contest, yet full also of hope for the future, and with much
of his old playful humour in it. He was weak in body, as
I could see, and after a little while spent with him, I was
afraid of tiring him, and said that I should go to call on
Sir William Heathcote at the Park, and that I would come
back and bid him Good-bye. In spite of all I could say, he
would go with me, and we walked through his own little
wicket into the Park, and thence across the grass under
the walnut-trees to the House, he enjoying the sunshine
and the air, and I the kindness, perhaps I may presume to
say the affection, which he shewed me then as always, and
which I recall always with gratitude, yet with a sense of
self-reproach. He talked on various, but chiefly on do
mestic subjects ; of my wife and children ; of my own
prospects ; of you ; of the Dysons ; of Sir WTilliam Heath
cote ; and, lastly, with great warmth of regard and admi
ration, of Mr. Gladstone. I have no note of what he
said, and though the whole impression is distinct, I do not
pretend to be able to recall the details. We stood for some
time talking at the door of Sir William's house, and then he
walked back alone. I called at the Vicarage on my way
from the Park to the village, and saw him for the last time.
The short walk had tired him, and he was lying down to
rest on the sofa, (a thing most unusual with him,) but he got
up, walked with me down to the village ; and so we parted.
There was, I am sure, no trace of failing then to be discerned
in his apprehension, or judgment, or discourse. He was ah
old man who had been very ill, who was ¦ still physically
weak, and who needed care; but he was the same Mr.
Keble I had always known, and whom, for aught that ap
peared, I might hope still to know for many years to come.
Little bits of his tenderness, flashes of his fun, glimpses of
his austerer side, I seem to recall, but I cannot put them

Postscript. 585
upon paper; any words at my command would coarsen the
impression, and blur, the image. Of this last meeting, little
as this is, I can say no more.
" Perhaps, however, it may be worth while putting down
two little bits of his character, which I do remember
freshly, though they belong to earlier dates. Once I re
member walking with him just the same short walk from
his house to Sir William's, and our conversation fell upon
Charles I., with regard to whose truth and honour I had
used some expressions in a review which had, as I heard,
displeased him. I referred to this, and he said it was
true, I replied that I was very sorry to displease him
by anything I said or thought ; but that if the Naseby
Letters were genuine, (to go no further into argument,) I
could not think that what I said was at all too strong, and
tliat a man could but do his best to form an honest opinion
upon historical evidence, and if he had to speak, to express
that opinion. On this he said, I remember with a tender
ness and humility not only most touching, but to me most
embarrassing, that ' It might be so ; what was he to judge
of other men ; he was old, and things were now looked
at very differently ; that he knew he had many things to
unlearn, and to learn afresh ; and that I must not mind what
he had said, for that in truth belief in the heroes of his
youth had become part of him.' I am afraid these are my
words, and not his, and I cannot give his way of speaking,
which to any one with a heart, I think, would have been as
overcoming as it was to me.
"The other matter was this, and I mention it not only
because it struck me very much at the time, but because
it is an instance of that severer part of Mr. Keble's cha
racter, which appeared indeed but rarely, but which was
there, and which all who knew him well, knew to be

586 Memoir of the Rev. John Keble.
there. We were walking together in London in the year
185 1, and I was telling him how much I had been im
pressed with the difficulties as to the inspiration of Holy
Scripture, which were growing stronger, and spreading more
widely day by day ; and that it seemed to me this would
shortly become the great religious question of the time.
I added that there was not, as far as I knew, any theory or
statement on the subject which even attempted to be philo
sophical, except Coleridge's, in his ' Confessions of an In
quiring Spirit ;' and that I wished Mr. Keble, or some one
as competent as he, would take up the subject and deal
with it intellectually and thoroughly. He shewed great dis
like to the discussion, and put it aside several times, and
on my pressing it upon him, he answered shortly, that most
of the men who had difficulties on this subject were too
wicked to be reasoned with. Most likely he thought that
a young maris forwardness and conceit needed rebuke, and
he administered it accordingly ; but besides this, it was an
instance of that in him which would be called severity or
intolerance. I do not pretend to say that it would be
wrongly called so, but it is certain that there are distinct
indications of this spirit in the writings of St. Paul and St.
John ; and I suppose that the more absolute and the more
certain the faith a man has in religious doctrine, the more
probable it is that he will be intolerant of doubt in others,
" Such, (without breaking the sacred seal of personal and
tender memories,) is all I can find to send you of my re
collections of Mr. Keble. It is not worth sending, but I
send it in the hope of contributing in the very smallest de
gree to a memoir by my father of one, whom his son was
taught as a child to revere, and whom he revered when he
grew up, both because he was taught and because he saw
the wisdom of the teaching. J. D. C."

APPENDIX.

" North Witham,
July 18, 1867.
" My dear Sir,
"  I have endeavoured to make some memoranda on
the several points you mentioned to me. But when I come
to look at them, I am grieved and ashamed at their meagre-
ness, and I fear they will be useless. Perhaps, however,
if you could send them to Wilson, they might suggest some
thing to him, and he would confirm, or correct, or supple
ment what I have said. I know he has several letters on
parochial matters. He has been abroad, as perhaps you
know, aU the winter ; but he is now in London, and hopes
to be at home next week.
"I do not know enough of our dearest friend's actual
ministrations to the sick to enable me to say what his uni
form practice was. But, putting together directions which
he has given to me from time to time, and allusions he has
made to what he has himself said or done on particular
occasions, I may say that, besides the passages of Scrip
ture which he used to read or repeat, and which he made
the foundation of whatever remark, in the way of encourage^
ment, instruction, or warning, he wished to make, his prayers
by the bedside were in each case a little office, made for
the occasion out of the prayers and collects and Psalms of
the Prayer-book. His father, he once told me, never used
any other prayers than those of the Visitation Service, but
it was his own habit to range freely over the whole Prayer-
book. His service, so to call it, commonly began with the
first prayer for Good Friday, 'this Thy servant' being sub-

588 Appendix.
stituted for ' this Thy family :' then there would be always
some kind of confession, very frequently the fifty-first Psalm,
(indeed, I believe he very seldom, if ever, said prayers with
any sick person without introducing some verses at least of
that Psalm) ; then came the prayers in the Visitation Ser
vice and other collects, special petitions being introduced
here and there to suit the particular case, sometimes in his
own words, sometimes in the words of the Psalms or ofthe
Prayer-book. When death was imminent, over and above
the Commendatory Prayer prescribed in the Visitation Ser
vice, I have known him repeat at intervals verses Or pas
sages of Scripture, interspersed with short suffrages, and
ejaculations, extending over a considerable space of time.
In later years I believe he has made more use of books
of devotion, and not uncommonly he has read passages
from Bishop Wilson, Jeremy Taylor (Holy Living and
Dying), and Challoner. This last was always. a great
favourite with him.
" In his pastoral work generally, while he had, as every
one knows, a strong sense of the dignity of the Priesthood,
his chief personal feeling, if I may venture to say so, was
that which S. Paul expresses, when he says, ' Ourselves your
servants for Jesus' > sake.' A very common form of expres
sion with him, with regard to sick persons, was that of
waiting on them. He held himself at the service of: any
of his parishioners, at any time, and almost for any purpose.
He accounted himself their 'minister,' whose duty (and
delight) it was to help them in any way. In cases of pro
longed sickness he tried to pay his visit on particular days,
that it might be expected and prepared for : and if the sick
person were near at hand, he would visit him as. nearly as
possible at the same hour every day, his wish being, in this
as in everything else, to adapt himself to what he thought
would be most acceptable to those for whom he ministered.

Appendix. 589

One case I specially remember of an old woman, whom he
used to visit in this way every evening regularly for some
time, just before she settled for the night.
" At the same time he never forgot that he was a steward,
entrusted both with the souls of men, whom he had to deal
with for their good, tenderly or severely, as there might be
occasion, and with the holy things of God, which he was
to guard from dishonour. Hence he was very plain-spoken,
sometimes stem, in his treatment of sinners, where there
were no signs of humility ; though, as you may suppose, no
one could be more tender to those whose consciences were
seriously alarmed. The lack of a regular system of disci
pline he tried to supply in such ways as he could, making
a point of finding some opportunity of reproving noto
rious offenders and setting some mark upon them, in the
hope (to use his own frequent quotation) that " by making
their faces ashamed, they might be led to seek the Lord."
On some occasions, in the case of disgraceful marriages,
he has substituted for the exhortation or sermon in the
Marriage Service a short address, in which he remonstrated
earnestly and plainly with the young people. Little were
they whom he then, or at other times, reproved aware of
the intense anxiety with which he watched their look and
bearing under reproof.
" Every member of his flock was a charge to him ; but
his main anxiety, it may perhaps be said, was for the young
men and women, and the very old. It is remarkable what
a large number of aged persons could be reckoned up whom
he visited regularly for periods of varying length, but in
several cases for many years, and for whom he entertained
the deepest respect and affection. Their death was to him
tiie loss of personal friends, and he loved to recall their
sayings or anything characteristic in their dress or manner.
The thought of the simple goodness of many of them was

590 Appendix.

one of his chief joys. I shaU never forget the delight and
thankful reverence with which he told me of one of them,
an old man of a singularly thoughtful and religious tone of
mind, who said to him on one occasion, when he went to
see him, ' I have just been at the foot of the Cross, looking
up and praying for pardon.' A short extract from one of
his letters will iUustrate his thoughts and feelings about the
old people : 'The chief Hursley news is the death of dear
old Dame H., with whom at the last, and for a good time
before, all seemed more peaceful than I expected. You
know how low and disturbed she used to be at times about
her spiritual condition. I always dreaded this getting worse :
but it pleased God to remove it entirely for a long while,
months, before she died, and nothing could be more peace
ful, and as it seemed more full of humble quiet devotion,
till she sank away, by F. A's account, " like a baby from
the breast.'" 'It is startling about Mrs. C. ; but somehow
I can fancy that (please God) it was not so startling to her.
Would that it may not pass away as in a dream from the
rest of them.'
" The following refer to young persons : ' Give my love
to J. C, poor fellow: I trust I shaU see him again; but
I should not wonder if his decay were now very rapid.'
' I am very sorry indeed about L., seeing I had utterly
neglected her, or nearly so. Please to tell me anything
you can hear about her, and say something kind to her
mother for me. I have always been looking forward to
instructing her for Confirmation, and this has come quite
suddenly upon me.' 'I hope you will manage to see
M. A. B. now and then, and give her a few verses of
a Psalm to learn, and talk to her. This nursing work may
do her the greatest good.' ' J. D. is getting very ill indeed
with a complaint of the lungs, and will soon, I expect, take
to his bed. I hope he is " answering to the scourge." '

Appendix. 591

"Here is another extract which wiU shew his interest
in everything that concerned his people : ' At present I
have scarce time for more than a message to Mrs. B. Pray
teU her, with my very kind regards, that I very much advise
her to be content with C.'s remaining in the army. It
seems as if Providence had led him there for his good,
since he has improved so much ; and if he got his discharge
and came back among his old companions, I should very
much fear he might faU again into his old bad ways, and
then Mrs. B. would be blaming herself for it. It is far
better to let well alone, and instead of being unhappy, to
thank God for the chance of his being " a devout soldier,"
instead of a dissolute young tradesman. I do hope that
she wUl be led to view the matter in this light, for I am
sure it would be far better. Perhaps it would be a good
plan to point out to her how much there is in the Bible
about soldiers serving God, — Cornelius, the good Centu
rion, and others, David, Joshua, Jonathan, &c.'
" The two following extracts also may be interesting : —
" ' I am very much concerned about poor W., and sorry
to be away ; yet perhaps it may be the better chance for
him, as one temptation to be irritable is removed by my
absence. And it is a great comfort that he listens patiently,
and is subdued in his temper, more or less. I do not see
that you can do better with him than read the command
ments as Wilson suggests, and I think it likely that you wUl
be able to draw from him the sort of confession one has
heard from M. and others, that he has broken them all but
the sixth, and perhaps the eighth. He ought to be pressed
about the sixth, for I am afraid his unkindness to his wife
broke her spirits, and led her to that course which ruined her
Jiealth, and ended in her death. The matter of her funeral
was, that I doubted whether to read the service, she being
so notorious for drinking and neglect of the church ; only as

592 Appendix.

she permitted me to be sent for, and expressed some sort
of penitence, I did not think myself justified in treating her
as an excommunicated person. But I wrote a note to
her brother, explaining exactly how I felt, and hoping they
would consider the event as a warning. I left it to their
discretion, whether they would read it to W. or no ; they
did, and he was very angry, and threatened to write to the
bishop. However we got to be on speaking terms again.
I have since seen him once (if not oftener) very drunk, and
swearing wretchedly. I would read to him, I think, such
places as Rev. xx. n — 15, our Lord's parables and prophe
cies about the day of judgment, and St. Paul's catalogue of
deadly sins ; and then, if he is clearly alarmed and softened,
you might refer to the Prodigal Son, the penitent woman,
&c. I am afraid you will hardly bring him to much of
a special confession, but you will be quite able to judge
from time to time ; and if he wishes for the H. G, perhaps
Wilson had better see him too, at least if you are doubtful.'
'I got your letter to-day, and was very glad of it; the re
port of poor W. was on the whole better than I expected.
I think it very likely that my absence may be a good thing.
If you have an opportunity, will you give him a kind mes
sage from me, and say how thankful I shall be if he prove
truly penitent. I suppose the great point will be to con
vince him that it must be very doubtful whether his peni
tence would prove true, if he recovered, and therefore he
must go on in fear and trembling to the end. He should
clearly understand, I suppose, that any wish for the Com
munion must come entirely from him ; that we cannot,
under the circumstances, take on us to press it,' (July 8
and 14, 1842.)
" When he first heard that one of his parishioners had
become a Mormonite, he wrote, ' I am vexed about those
unhappy Mormonites, more especially as I never yet did

Appendix. 593

anything of a shepherd's part by the  family. Do tell
me anything that passes with regard to them. From what
you say I am afraid it is likely to be a very troublesome set,
almost as diabolically suited to our Anglo-Saxon cravings
now, as the Koran in its time to those of the Eastern
Christians.' (July, 1851.)
" He took great pains in preparing the young people for
confirmation ; sometimes, as soon as one confirmation was
over, making a list of those whose turn would come next,
and at all times beginning the preparation several months
beforehand. His usual course was to go through in order,
first, the Baptismal Service, then the Catechism, then the
Confirmation Service, and lastly, the office for Holy Com
munion ; he took a certain portion each time, making per
haps twenty or thirty lessons on the whole. He usually
wrote down on a paper three or four passages of Scripture
bearing on the subject of the next lesson, which he required
to be learnt by heart, or carefully studied, and he was always
very particular in ascertaining whether the lesson, as he
called it, had been attended to. Wherever it was prac
ticable, he led his pupils up to their first communion imme
diately after confirmation, but in many cases he was satisfied
if they promised to continue under instruction. One class
of boys came to him for more than a twelvemonth, and read
through with him different parts of the Bible, according to
their own choice, before he could persuade them to turn
their minds distinctly to preparation for Holy Communion.
I believe his rule as to refusing to recommend for confirma
tion those who would not pledge themselves to communicate
became stricter as years passed on ; but I should say gene
rally, that he was always very much guided by circumstances
in regard to his adherence to particular rules. At one con
firmation (October, 1853) he required the candidates to put
their names to the following paper: 'In the presence of
Qq

594 Appendix.

Almighty God, I, A. B., seriously declare, that I am turning
my mind towards Holy Communion ; that I hope, before
very long, by God's mercy, to be fit for it ; that I will pray
to God to make me fit ; and that I will come to Mr. Keble
or Mr. Young from time to time, if they wish me to do so,
to have their advice about coming or staying away.' He
was most anxious to retain his hold on the young persons
who had been under his instruction, and never lost an
opportunity of intercourse with them. I find two short
references to one young fellow, whom he would fain keep
with him : ' If you see anything of the  , will you enquire
after T., and say I was much disappointed at not seeing or
hearing from him before we came away.' ' There are two
things I have been forgetting to mention to you; one is
T. S., whom I neglected to see before we came out. If
you have a good opportunity, will you find out how he is
going on, and why he was perfidious with me in not coming
to H. C, or at least not coming to me to say why he has
kept away. If you think it more likely to answer, you need
only say that I depend on having a call from him as soon
as ever I get home.' (July, 1856.)
" I enclose the address which he sent from Penzance to
the newly-confirmed at the last confirmation in 1865 ; it was
delivered to them on the day of confirmation. I send also-
a copy of a short form of prayer, which he drew up for the
use of persons preparing for their first communion, and
which at one time he used regularly with his pupils. He
was particularly happy, as you know, in his catechizing,
the chief characteristics of which, as it seems to me, were
the reverent honesty with which he kept close to the passage
of Scripture with which he was dealing, and the simple
manner in which he drew out its meaning. I remember
one Easter Monday catechizing, in which his object was
to shew how little girls might take pattern by St. Mary

Appendix. eg 5

Magdalene. He first drew from them with some minute
ness the several particulars of her history in connexion with
the resurrection, and then dwelt on the lessons to be de
rived from it ; e.g. that they should prepare over-night for
the work of the next day, that they should rise early, that
in their difficulties they should go to those who were set
over them, that they should stay by our Lord at all times,
or as near Him as possible : if they were unhappy, they
should still look after Him ; then they would find that He
would shew Himself to them in ways they least thought of,
as He was with St. Mary Magdalene as a gardener, and
with the Nazarenes as a carpenter; only they would not
be allowed to touch Him aU at once. He would train
them graduaUy, and draw them up to Himself. And they
must not think it hard, for it was His way with His own
Apostles. The next day he catechized the boys, and the
subject was the visit of St. Peter and St. John to the se
pulchre. Boys usuaUy (he said) hear of the Resurrection
and other great Christian truths" first from women ; if they
are good boys, they make haste to mind what they are told.
The innocent come first to the apprehension of those
truths ; but the penitent, feeling their need, seek to enter
more deeply into it. Then, because they seek relief for
themselves, they are disappointed at finding Christ's clothes,
and not Himself; and they wonder, and sometimes doubt*
The others believe and are satisfied, being made up of
simple love. Both go home, that is, to their own duties,,
to wait and see what He will do next with them. The
women on the contrary stay near the grave, to satisfy their
feelings. Both are right, and both blessed, because both
are in Him and for Him. He generally took boys and
girls alternately, preparing them, for the most part, before
hand for the questions he was about to ask in church.
He rather made a point of this previous preparation, as

596 Appendix.

tending to check any disposition to self-conceit or forward
ness. I may mention that he was very particular about
the children having their Bibles in church and following
the Lessons, and for some years it was his daily custom to
call up a few of them after the service was over, and ques
tion them for a few minutes in the two chapters which had
been read.
"A considerable portion of his time was spent. in the
School. He was most scrupulous in going to the Sunday
School from 9.15 to 10.30 in the morning, and from 2 to 3
in the afternoon. I think it might be truly said, that unless
he was hindered by illness (which happily occurred very
rarely), or by some special call of parochial duty, he never
missed, during the thirty years he was at Hursley. Besides
this, it was his habit for several years to go to the boys'
school every morning soon after 9 and teach the first class
until service-time at 10, taking them through one part of
the Bible after another. On Friday there was an examina
tion in writing in the work which had been done during the
week. This he did, whoever might be staying with him,
and whatever letters, interesting or perplexing, .he might
have received. School-time often came on him before he
was ready, but as soon as he became aware, that the clock
had struck, away he went. Many of his friends must re
member to have seen him hurrying across the lawn and
down the Long Walk which led to . the school, when he
fancied that he was late. But he was never in a hurry in
his teaching; he was always patient, both with his scholars
and with his subject, dealing with it very simply and mi
nutely, yet very deeply and practically. He invariably
stood when he. was teaching, and that, not so much because
he thought it gave him more command over the boys'
attention, but, as it would seem, because he fancied it
helped to keep him up to the mark, and hindered him from

Appendix. 597

becoming listless. Indeed, in everything he took in hand,
if I may venture to say it, he always did his best. He
never spared himself any labour of body or of mind, but
whatever he undertook, a small matter or a great, he did it
with his might, often with much misgiving and complaint,
but always with an honest, patient endeavour to give his
whole mind to it. Thus his dread of any kind of self-
indulgence was a balance to that profound humility, which
was perhaps his chief characteristic. He was always busy,
though without the pretence, or even the appearance of
business. Indeed, so various were his occupations and so
willing was he to be interrupted, that a stranger might
almost think him desultory in his habits ; but every one
acquainted with him knows how very scrupulous he was
never to lose any time. He was always engaged, he always
had something to do, and he set to it at once without delay.
Continuous appUcation to one thing was scarcely possible
under his circumstances, and he never looked for it ; but
whenever he had anything special in hand, either in the
way of reading or writing, he stuck to it closely till it was
done. If he were reading a book that interested him, he
would carry it about with him and read it at odds and ends
of time, so that it was astonishing how quickly he got
through it, though perhaps he had not been able to attend
to it at any one time for an hour together. In this way
he read almost everything that came into the house. If
he were engaged in writing, his mind became thoroughly
^engrossed with his subject ; it was always in his thoughts ;
and though he seldom, if ever, suspended his ordinary
work, but paid his pastoral visits and taught his classes
at home as at other times, these things did not seem to
distract him ; he returned at once to his work, just as if
it had not been discontinued, and he would sit down to
write, when he had only a few minutes to spare, as readily

598 Appendix.

as he would take up a book. He usually wrote on the
backs of letters or stray pieces of paper, numbering each
shp, and securing the loose papers in a clasp ; and then he,
or more frequently perhaps Mrs. Keble, made a fair copy
for the printer. He very rarely made use of his study, ex
cept for private interviews ; he greatly preferred to bring
his books and papers into the drawing-room, and there
he used to write, seemingly undisturbed by any readmg or
•conversation that was going on. Nothing, however, escaped
him ; he knew all that was said, and was as much inter
ested or provoked by the book that was being read, as if
he had had nothing else to attend to; at the same time
that his own special work went on as effectually and as
rapidly as if there had been nothing to distract him. Once,
and once only, I remember his shutting himself up in his
study, to avoid interruption. It was the day before the
consecration of the church (in 1848), his sermon for the
evening of the next day was scarcely begun, and there were
so many things to be attended to, that he was in despair,
and felt that the only chance of the sermon being ready
was to lock himself up for two or three hours, and give
strict orders that no one was to go to him on any pretence
whatever. In this way he was able (to use a common
expression of his) to ' break the back' of his sermon, and
to give his mind without discomfort to other matters.
" There was a small Workhouse at Hursley, which was
a special object of care and interest to him. The inmates
were chiefly old and infirm. At one time they were allowed
to go to the Daily Service, and he often remarked with
pleasure on the large acquaintance which some of them
shewed with the Gospel history from hearing it continually
in church. It was a great grief to him, when, in conse
quence of some misbehaviour, the permission was with
drawn. I send you a form of Morning Prayer, which he

Appendix. 599

drew up for use in the House, and which is still used.
The Evening Prayer was prepared, but I doubt whether it
was ever printed ; certainly it is not used.
" I can scarcely venture to hope that these recollections
will be of much service to you. For your and others' sake,
I could almost wish that some one else had had the oppor
tunities which I had. But I suppose it would be impos
sible for any one, by a mere statement of general facts or
of single incidents, to give any true notion of that wonder
ful humility, which however was ever bold, — at times even
forward, — in defence of truth and duty, of that considera
tion and reverence for others which never became softness
or blind partiality, and that exquisite keenness of feeling,
whether of love or indignation, which was always tempered
by wisdom and good sense. Still it is a real sorrow to me
to find that I am of so much less use to you than I ought
to be in drawing a picture wliich, if drawn to the life, might
have so much influence for good 
" Believe me, with very sincere respect and gratitude,
" Yours faithfully,
"Peter Young."

600 Appendix.

" Mr. Keble had so little method in directing any lay-
helpers who worked under him in his parish, that it is
difficult to give an idea of his way of employing them. He
gave no accurate directions ; partly from his great humility ;
he used to say, ' I am always sure to say the wrong thing.'
He would not even divide the work regularly amongst two
or three who wished to engage in it, or assign certain
portions of it to each; and in the end it fell almost en
tirely to one person, who worked under him for seventeen
years. But he did not give her any rules or directions,
except by occasionally recommending to her particular
cases, if he thought it likely that she would be of use to
them; and even then anything he said was in the way
of a hint, which she might take or leave. To all her
reports of the poor under her care, and to every minute
particular concerning them, he used to listen with the
deepest interest, often with tears in his eyes; and when
absent, it was his habit to write carefully about each case
brought before him."
Here I omit the extracts from two letters which
I have already printed in my text.
" During the last months of Mr. Keble's life, the friend
to whom they were written visited Bournemouth ; he sent
for her every day, and talked to her for a long time, en
quiring carefully for individual cases. Especially (indeed
this might be said of him always) you could never weary
him, when talking of what concerned the sick ; he never
seemed to grudge time spent in any way which might

Appendix. g0i

comfort or even amuse them. To one deaf cripple in his
parish he was a constant visitor, because the man thought
he could understand the motion of his lips ; he used also
to hold conversations with him by writing on a slate, and
to set him sums to amuse him, looking over and correcting
them himself at his next visit.
" Although he did not apportion work for his lay-helpers,
he was careful to do so for himself and his Curates ; gene
rally arranging with them after Morning Service where each
should go to in the course of the day; not that he gave up
any districts to them, for all were visited in turn by himself.
There are seven hamlets in the parish (besides outlying
cottages), the nearest one mile, the farthest three miles
distant ; these were generally all gone through in the course
of each week, so that everything was brought under his eye.
If anything escaped him which he thought he ought to have
known, he was much distressed, and blamed himself for it.
He often read when he walked alone about the parish;
when accompanied in these walks by any young person
his talk was almost always of the sights and sounds around
them ; of the clouds and the pictures in them, the birds
and their notes, the sweet odours in the air ; or if the bells
were ringing he used to make up sentences which he
fancied they were saying. In a letter from Penzance,
Mrs. Keble writes, ' the cloudland here is a great pleasure
to my husband.' The ' low sweet tones of nature's lyre,'
always soothed and comforted him; and the rest and re
freshment which he found in the visible creation greatly
contributed to preserve his health amidst the deep anxieties
of his later years, caused by those sorrows of the Church,
which were always his sorrows. Sometimes indeed his
friends, when eager to discuss some Church matter with
him, have been disappointed to find that his mind was too
full just then of some harmony of nature, or else that he

602 Appendix.

was too much engrossed by some child who happened to
be in the room, to give them full attention. Once when
this was apparent, and he had not seemed interested in an
important subject about wliich a friend was very eager, he
answered, ' I am afraid I have been thinking of nothing,
but how very beautiful the situation of that monastery
which you described must be !'
"He generally made his parochial visits on foot until
the last two years; after his illness, Mrs. Keble did not
like him to be alone, and she drove him about in a little
donkey carriage. He seemed to realize so vividly that
each of his parishioners was his own special charge, that
no duties elsewhere, or public affairs, were allowed to in
terfere with a watchful and anxious care for them, only to
be compared to that which a father feels for his children.
'To them first, as to all in order who ever in earnest sought
his counsel, his thought seemed always to be 'ourselves
your servants for Jesus' sake.' Those to whom such service
was at any time rendered, will remember all their lives the
loving gentleness with which it was done, especially his
kindness and tenderness' to those in trouble, and his peni
tence if he thought he had neglected or wounded any one,
asking pardon for it, with tears in his eyes; so that his
friends learned more from the example of his humility and
love than even from his direct teaching. He thought much
of helping others by praying for them, and a few— r-very
few — may have some idea how much time he spent thus
for any in sickness or trouble; he made some rule about
dividing those for whom he made intercession, praying for
them at different times in the day. He said of one who
was ill in his parish, but of whom he could not for various
reasons see much, ' I am afraid he thinks I neglect him,
but indeed I don't ; every day I think of him and pray for
him, and for a good while? Especially he set much store

Appendix. 603
on the common intercession of the people in church, asking
it for many things, as, once, when a guest was leaving him,
'For one about to leave this place;' and always, before
every Litany, ' For the Church of England in her very great
and continued distress, by reason of unhappy divisions
among us ; for those in any doubt, trouble, or perplexity
of mind ; for the Churches of South Africa and New Zea
land ; and among sick people, especially for  .' He
always carefuUy considered the people in his parish, es
peciaUy the old and poor, before making any change in
the arrangement of the service. In 1864 a Bishop had
talked to him of the advisableness of omitting the reading
of the Commandments, &c, at the Morning Service, when
there had already been an early Communion : in talking
the subject over afterwards, though much wishing never
to use the beginning of that office without celebrating, he
said, ' I am afraid if I were to adopt the Bishop's plan here,
that old Mrs.  , who cannot come to early Communion,
would miss the Commandments and Epistle and Gospel on
the Sundays when there is not a late celebration.' He was
very cautious and gentle in his dealings with any in his
parish who were quarrelsome or hard to manage, waiting
until he found some opportunity of doing them good;
There were some in the vUlage who were rude and rough
to him, but he went patiently away, and came again after
a time. "Some speeches, however, not of rudeness to himself
but such as he thought shewed a hard and unloving mind,
especiaUy towards relations, occasionally grated upon and
aggravated him more than he could bear : he never seemed
able to forget them, and might almost be said to be a httle
hard on two or three of whom he once formed a bad
opinion. "He was a very frequent visitor to the inmates of the

604 Appendix.

workhouse, who were chiefly old men. One of those to
whom he had been kind was asked after he had left
Hursley whether he had been happy there ; his answer
was, 'Happy? that's no word for it; I seemed to myself
to be saying all day long, " Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God
of Sabaoth." ' Mr. Keble was pleased to find that these old
men learned much of the Gospels by coming to church on
week-days ; they sat on the front benches, and in reading
the Second Lesson he addressed himself, as it were, espe
cially to them, turning towards them and reading slowly
and with pauses, almost as if he were alone with them and
were speaking to them. His manner of reading Holy Scrip
ture was very remarkable : in its extreme simplicity it was
like that of a reverent child, and yet probably all who
were in the habit of hearing him have felt the wonderful
charm of it, and that he made them understand the Lessons
better than any one else ; conveying to them also, in some
small measure, his own intense feeling of the sacredness
of every inspired word. He always paused before reading
the Bible, often putting his hand to his forehead for a
moment (as was often his way), and after the Lesson was
ended he made the same pause before saying ' Here end
eth,' &c. In some sermon of his he takes it for granted
that the custom of pious people would be to pray inwardly
before and after reading any portion of Holy Scripture.
He never could bear to hear Scripture language used in
general conversation, and even a half-playful allusion to
any expression in the Bible, such as 'You have come at
the eleventh hour,' seemed to make him shudder;' he
always reproved it if he could.
"He thought that much knowledge of the Bible was
acquired by attendance at Daily Service, and once when
it was proposed to keep the school-children from church
on week-days in order that they might have more time for

Appendix. 605
preparation before an examination, he said that their time
in church might be made a great mean of preparing them
for examination in Holy Scripture. For a long time he
used each morning, after the congregation had left the
church, to question the first class on the Lessons they
had just heard, standing at the entrance to the chancel,
the children round him, and generally ending by giving
them the Blessing. For many years he hardly ever missed
catechising in church on Sunday afternoons, taking the first
class of boys and of girls alternately. He prepared them
for it in school, just before tlie service, asking the same
questions as afterwards in church, and was always most
careful that the shy or backward ones should have full
time for consideration, reproving almost sharply if one
answered when not specially asked. In church he always
repeated the children's answers, so that all might hear.
" For himself the Daily Services were among his greatest
delights and refreshments ; if by some rare chance he was
not in his place, he still came in, if possible, for some part
of the Service ; if he were to dine out and the hour inter
fered with church, he used to dress early, come in and
kneel down near the door, and stay till the last moment,
often till reminded by Mrs. Keble that he must go.
" He tried having an early Litany on Wednesdays and
Fridays, in the hope that labourers would attend; also,
as many believe, from the longing to be himself more in
stant in penitential prayer tlie more the gathering troubles
of the Church, and the doubts and perplexities of many
souls, weighed upon his spirit. It was begun in 1850, at
S o'clock in summer and 5J in winter, and continued for
three years. When he came into his stall on week-days
he used to tum round for a few moments, and look to see
who was there, and as he passed up the aisle to the vestry,
he had a way of noticing without looking, and giving a

606 Appendix.

slight, half smile of welcome and blessing to any child or
young person whom he passed.
" His evening lectures during Advent and Lent and on
Saints' Days were different in their kind from his ordinary
sermons ; they seemed more especially spoken to those who
he thought would best understand- him, and in the dimness
of the church on summer evenings his words used to sound
like an evening meditation. He liked Mrs. Keble to play
to him while he was writing his sermons, he said it helped
him ; he was very fond of bits from ' Acis and Galatea,'
and other works of Handel ; also of the Irish melodies. He
hardly ever used his study for writing of any sort, but
carried his papers and books into the drawing-room, set
tling himself between the window and the door, which in
summer were usually both open ; there he seemed to hear
everything tliat went on without being disturbed by it;
even reading aloud he liked while he was writing, occa
sionally taking the book from the reader and going on
himself for a little while, making quaint remarks as he read,
and then returning to his work. The last piece which he
read in this way with us was ' Honor Neale,' in which, as
in the other poems of its author, he took much delight.
"His book on 'Eucharistical Adoration' was entirely
written on scraps of paper and backs of envelopes, and was-
afterwards fairly copied out from these by Mrs. Keble ;- he
seemed unable to write about what he felt most deeply ex
cept in this way, and at odd times ; he could not always on
being referred to decipher these scraps himself, they had
been so frequently altered and written over. His notes for
sermons or week-day lectures, which were all but extempore,
were generally written in this way, on any scrap of paper
which came to hand ; these- notes, though carefully pre
pared beforehand, were hardly ever referred to when he was
actually preaching. He was continually gathering up matter

Appendix. 607
for his sermons and food for instruction from the common
circumstances of every-day life; no one could be much
with him without perceiving from his sermons how he had
marked and pondered over little sayings or incidents which
scarcely struck others, bringing out of them precious mean
ings and valuable teaching, and so ' haUowing aU he found.'
He writes, in i860, to a young person as to ways of medi
tating on Holy Scripture: 'You might settle the evening
before, one of the last things, what text of Scripture, or
what sacred subject, should be your theme for the next
day, and during the day you would be gleaning up more
or less in reference to it, which it would be interesting to
set down, or recapitulate in memory, at night ; something in
the way in which we construct our sermons from day to day.
You should take hints as well as you can from passing
circumstances, sayings w1* you hear casuaUy, or meet with
in reading, and w0"1 you can connect with the subject of
the day : e.g. I observed one of our little singers to-day,
both morning and evening, with his eyes so simply fixed on
his Prayer-book, that I was quite ashamed of my own in
attention ; he did not know I was looking at him, but after
wards I told him to go on doing so : my own share in this
might, or ought to be, a lesson in the way of contrition ;
and his, in the way of hope of the heavenly Watcher's ap
probation V
* As early as 1813 or 14, a friend had given me Boyle's " Occasional
Reflections," which Mr. Weyland had republished in part. I lent the
hook to Keble, who was much delighted with it ; and I think he
adopted the practice of the pious philosopher. The book is so in
teresting, and the practice so useful, that I regret that it is not
more read. The practice may be summed up thus, — make every ap
pearance, or circumstance, which you observe, or which happens to
you, however seemingly common or trifling, a ground of moral or
religious reflection. The book shews how the smallest incidents may
teach the most important lessons. — J. T. C.

608 Appendix.

" Mr. Keble was never tired of waiting on the sick in
Holy Communion; he generally went to them on foot,
carrying his own little black bag ; and if they were poor he
used to take some dainty morsel in a basket besides. He
never proposed to give the H. C. privately, he said the re
quest ought to come from the sick person ; but he was
always ready to take the slightest hint, and if he thought
that shyness prevented the desire for it being expressed, he
used to get some one else to speak to the sick person, and
find out his wishes. One poor woman asked him to come
to her every week, he thought she meant for Holy Com
munion, and during her illness celebrated every Monday
morning by her bedside. At such times he never talked at
all to the sick person by way of instruction or preparation ;
there was nothing but the service. He did not say anything
aloud on coming into the house, but first greeted the sick
person, asking about his health, and then immediately began
to prepare the simple altar, which he was careful to place so
that the sick person could easily see everything. He said the
service very slowly and quietly, making pauses that he might
the more easily be followed. After giving the Bread, he used
to become so absorbed in prayer for the sick person, that
more than once, when no one was present who would re
mind him, he entirely forgot to give the Chalice, and after
long prayer went on with the rest of the service. When it
was over, he used to fold up his little black stole carefuUy,
and to lay it, with a few words of private prayer, on the
foot of the sick person's bed ; then, when he had put all by,
he shook hands with those who had assisted, thanking them
for doing so. He said once, after a private Communion,
that he should like the old custom of the kiss of peace to be
restored at such times ; and when he came to young persons
he used to kiss them on the forehead or hand. Except in
extreme cases he never would celebrate more than once in

Appendix. 609
the day, and before 12 o'clock, and he always wished to
have at least two to communicate besides the sick person.
" The preparation of his candidates for Confirmation was
extended over a long time : one year, at the beginning of
Lent, he gave notice that there would be a Confirmation
at the end of Lent in the next year, and therefore desired to
receive at once the names of those who would then be con
firmed. The children, whom he prepared, came to him
either in classes or singly every week for about a year be
fore their Confirmation ; he took those of different ranks of
life separately, as needing a difference in the kind of teach
ing given, and as there were few of the upper class in his
parish, these mostly came to him each alone every week.
He usually went through the Baptismal, Confirmation, and
Communion Services, taking a little bit each time, and illus
trating it largely, especiaUy from Holy Scripture. The
knowledge of the Bible possessed by his village children
long before their preparation for Confirmation began, and
the way in which it was interwoven in their minds with the
Creeds and the Catechism, was something very uncommon
indeed. " To some, before Confirmation, he gave only oral teach
ing, to others questions in writing, directing them as to the
books they were to consult ; and he caused those who were
capable of profiting by it to study the Ancient Latin and
Greek Liturgies, helping them with the language if neces
sary, and pointing out where our service joined on to older
and more perfect offices. If farm lads could not come to
him for press of work, he went to them, one by one, how
ever far off. As to still more close and personal teaching
and guidance of conscience, whether with his parishioners
or others who sought his counsel, he was always ready,
though not using any kind of method, to see any one at
R r

6 1 o Appendix.
whatever inconvenience to himself; often in his later years,
when he had fallen asleep after the Sunday services, rousing
himself to receive such visits. Perhaps he might be said
sometimes to seem, at least, to discourage strangers, partly
from wishing them, where- possible, to apply to those set
over them in the order of God's Providence, and a shrink
ing from being thought of more than any other earnest
country clergyman, especially if he perceived any unreality
in those who came to him — partly from his excessive humi
lity. He used to say he was a very bad adviser, incapable
of guiding any one well, and bade those whom he did advise
to pray that he might be able to help them. In all such
matters he was more than ever careful to observe the closest
obedience to the directions in the Prayer-book : sometimes
when applied to he would for answer read that part of the
Exhortation at the time of giving notice of Holy Com
munion which refers to such cases : and he did not use the
special Absolution without asking ' if it were humbly and
heartily desired;' continually exhorting those whom he
taught to take all from our Lord as Personally present.
' Christ is all and in all,' would best sum up his teaching
both in public and in private. He often paused if asked
a question about any spiritual matter, looked down and
seemed to apply to God before answering. One who knew
him well said, ' I believe he was always praying, continually
making ejaculatory supplications;' and so being himself
watered with the continual dew of God's blessing, his very
presence brought refreshment and help to others. Though
shy of teaching directly, he was always letting drop little
sayings by the way, full of suggestion and instruction. Of
those who differed from him, if he thought them child-like
and devout, he always spoke in the gentlest way, giving
them credit for being better Churchmen than they thought
themselves. Of one old parishioner, long since dead, he

Appendix. 61 1

said to a friend, ' I am afraid he did not like me nearly so
well as I liked him ; he thought himself a very Low Church
man, but you know he really was an excellent Churchman,
he came to church almost every day.' And Mr. Keble used
to tell with great glee of this old friend's delight with a ser
mon preached by a strange clergyman, not knowing that the
preacher was Dr. Pusey.
"He writes in 1863 : 'Trouble yourself as little as you
can about the unbelief of others, except to pray for them :
the rather as you know, at least of many, that in their un
conscious hearts they really believe a great deal more than
they seem to do, or are distinctly aware of themselves.
Where should we be, if we let our devotions be interrupted
here because people are imperfect in the doctrine of the
Sacraments, and there, because they pray, as they do, to
the B.V.M. ?' Very seldom, indeed, are such strong convic
tions as he possessed, such zeal and earnestness in contend
ing for the Faith, tempered by humility and love like his.
His own words, ' Self-distrust is a temper so suitable to us
and our condition, that whatever course implies most of it,
has so far a presumption in its favour,' express well the tone
of his mind, the feeling which shewed itself in every daily
action, and which was undisturbed by any heat of contro
versy. Yet the idea of the meek hermit poet which seems
generally to prevail, is not altogether a true one. It is hard
tp describe the eager youthful energy, the strong indigna
tion and resentment at wrong, especially at anything which
threatened to touch the sacred deposit of truth, that mingled
with his gentleness and humility. If anything of the sort
was said before him, his whole countenance changed, and
he looked for a moment as if he would annihilate the
speaker. Once when speaking eagerly of something of the
sort which had angered him, his eyes sparkling and flashing
as they used at such times, he suddenly turned to a young

612 Appendix.

girl who stood near him, his whole manner changing to
a tender playfulness, as he just said, ' I hope I shan't bite
you? then returned to the subject which occupied him. It
was remarkable that badness always seemed to him stupidity,
he never seemed to be able to perceive the cleverness of
wickedness ; of even able things written in a bad spirit he
constantly remarked, * I cannot think how people can be
so stupid.'
" Mr. Keble's power of fasting was very great, and for ,
many years his own habit was to take no food on Fridays
until evening ; even after he was past seventy he scarcely
took more on fast-days than a slight meal in the evening.
But to others, especially in cases of delicate health, he
was very lenient in this matter. He writes to one (in
i860), 'If those whom His Providence has made judges
over you in such matters say, This is more than you are
able to bear ; I conceive you are to conclude that He has
not laid this upon you. I remember the place in Mr. Bon-
nell ", but you will observe he does not there (unless I mis
take) disregard the direction of the Doctor, but his own
feelings : " God says, ' Fast,' and I will fast, though it seems
to interfere with my prayers : but O ! that it may not so
interfere." Is not this his meaning ? But this is not your
case, I believe. No doubt we often read in books of holy
men purposely spending themselves contrary to medical
directions : but I imagine that in most cases either it was
for some definite work, as when a man devotes himself in
battle ; or the wisdom of it might be questionable.'
" He always received the Holy Communion fasting,
although teaching every Sunday morning at the school,
and generally preaching; but this also he was careful not
to advise others to do unless in strong health. In a letter
b "Meditations of James Bonnell, Esq.," on the List of the Christian
Knowledge Society.

Appendix. 613

in 1863 he writes, ' I will not say positively, but I almost
think that it may be better to make up your mind to even
ing communion occasionally than to remain so very long
absent. You may perhaps be able to order matters so as
not to break the Church's rule about abstinence further
than so many are obliged to do for health, e.g. you may
eat some breakfast and shirk the dinner. Mr.  told
me once that he was obliged to do something of the kind
in regard of mid-day (which were really afternoon) com
munions.' "For himself, until his illness in 1864, there were weeks
now and then when between fast-days and public and pri
vate celebrations there was not more than one day on which
he took any food until the middle of the day.
" Old age brought no relaxation of work to him. Mrs.
Keble's letters, after he was past seventy, continually men
tion his engrossing occupations, generally with thankfulness
that he was still able for work. She writes in March, 1863,
of his having been ' particularly well this winter, scarcely
having had his usual amount of hoarseness, so that he has
been able to work on at home and out, through rain and
• sunshine, without let or hindrance, and people have been
fain to remark upon his good looks. If it should please
God that I should weather this attack, I shall rejoice that
I have not been the cause of his leaving his work here
this winter. It has been a busy time preparing for a Con
firmation, which is to be on Sunday next ; and besides this
the WUson work has kept him fully occupied in his leisure
hours, so that a sentence of exile would have been a ter
rible one in that aspect, however beneficial in the lower
one. I don't believe the dear husband would ever enjoy
being abroad thoroughly : he could never be content with
out plenty of work.' In December, 1863, Mrs. Keble
writes, ' I gave Lady — ? — a little specimen of his day's

6 14 Appendix.

work yesterday, and I am not sure that it did not make
her almost wish I were ailing enough to oblige hira to
go away, but (D.G.) he is well and up to his work, and
most evenings, from 9 to 10 (now we are alone) we get
a little quiet reading, which is a great treat, only sometimes
he is so honestly sleepy that it is cruel to let him go on.
Again in that year : ' Our commemoration was kept on
St. Simon and St. Jude : fifteen years now we have had
the blessing of this dear church in its present aspect. I
have been amusing myself lately with doing little' pen and
ink sketches of it from the drawing-room window, which
puts me in mind to tell you that my husband was so good
as to victimise himself in the summer for me, and give
Richmond three sittings, the result of which was a crayon
head, of which Miss Richmond told me afterwards that her
father considered it one of his best. He certainly did seem
charmed to have that head once more before him.'
" This was his last year of health. In February, 1864,
his wife writes of 'how much he has on his hands, and far,
far more on his mind;' but the grief and anxiety caused
by the decision of the Privy Council in that spring only
seemed to make him work harder than ever. During that
summer he used often to fall asleep for a few moments in
the middle of the day with his pen in his hand ; the over
strain ended in the stroke (on St. Andrew's Day, 1864)
which was the beginning of the end. Still, all through that
summer, the happy home^life went on, though overclouded
by Mrs. Keble's increasing weakness. A friend who was
staying there in August wrote, ' I wish I could give you
an idea of the loveliness of everything when we came out
of church at. 8 o'clock this moning, the sun lighting up the
flower-beds, which are each a jewel in that garden, the birds
feeding amongst them, the clematis hanging over the ter
race-wall, all the natural beauty of that most lovely and

Appendix. 615

poetical spot glowing besides in the light which associa
tions always throw around it. We went in through the
garden window to Mrs. Keble, who had not been well
enough to go to church, and just then the Vicar and the
Bishop passed, the former looking like what one can ima
gine of George Herbert, in his cassock, trencher-cap, and
white hair. Ah ! even as I write comes the thought, Will
the days ever be when we shall look back on such times as
these, and long for all which can never come again ? when
the place, the flowers, the sunshine shall be the same, and
we shall hardly bear to look upon them?' Those who
were much at Hursley during that summer will remember
Mr. Keble's interest in the Apologia, and also his exceeding
distress and even anger when the last number (I think)
reached him. He writes, June 15, 1864, 'We shall see
you soon, I dare say; and in the meantime I will just
thank you for the little mention of my dear friend's book,
w1* (mention) was a comfort to me in some respects : for
I thought the book so very engaging, I did not know what
might come of it. In argument it seems to me to leave
things on the whole where they were, or rather (of the two)
to damage the cause of Modern Rome, — I mean especially
as concerns the dogma of 1854. The very title (putting
a date to an Article of the Faith) seems to me to dis
allow it' Mrs. Keble writes in October of their having
had ' a large and engrossing party the last few weeks, now
we are reduced to ourselves and servants, and, alas ! this
evening I shall be reduced to less than half, -for in spite of
its being our wedding-day, he has to go to Bristol to be
ready for the discussion about Synods to-morrow at the
Congress.' And in her last note a few days before his
attack she says, ' My husband talked of writing to thank
 , but when will he have time ? I fear he wih have

616 Appendix.

to go to London again next week, — I ought not to say
fear, for he must work while he can, and people don't seem
too eager to contend for the Faith.' Even after his ill
ness, restoration in order that he might work seemed always
to be in the minds of both husband and wife. She writes
from Penzance in January, 1865 : ' We have had much
stormy weather, but it has no otherwise interfered with
my husband's progress than hindering his walks by the
sea. He has improved greatly in his looks since we have
been here; indeed, I think you would not observe much
difference, except that seven weeks of such quiescent life
have made his movements less active ; he still lives by rule
as to diet, and not using his head, though he dips into
books rather more. The Doctors cannot relax their rule
yet ; if they did, I believe he would be obliged to enforce
it on himself, as he would do too much in the first day ;
still we have the hope that if there is work for him to do,
he may be restored to do it.' At Easter she writes : ' We
were both at the whole morning service. One could not
but think that there must have been a sharp trial in taking
no part in the ministering, for the first time on that day
since he has been in Orders.'
"Then came the last return, in that spring of 1865, to
Hursley, and the summer months, so mournful, yet so pre
cious, to his parishioners ahd friends. He had almost en
tirely recovered his looks, so that those who saw him during
that summer for the first time since his illness, scarcely per
ceived any change in his face, and tried to hope against
hope that years might yet be added to his precious life.
Yet watchmg him they knew that he could not long bear
the strain of anxiety and grief on Mrs. Keble's account;
and that each of the terrible attacks from which she suf
fered, told on him almost as much as on her. He never

Appendix, 617

preached again, but often took some small part in the ser
vices, and occasionally celebrated and catechised. His last
public pastoral teaching was on the seventeenth Sunday
after Trinity (October 8), 1865, when he catechised his
school children at the Afternoon Service on the Lord's
Prayer, and 'thou art not able to do these things of thy
self;' he taught them by the simile of a little child carried
in. its mother's arms, and continued, 'even after it is set
down to walk, can it do so by itself?' 'must it not be held
by' the hand and helped?' 'Is there anything in to-day's
Collect that teaches the same doctrine ?' ' Then if His grace
must go before us, could we have put ourselves in a state
of salvation, or can we save ourselves?' 'But what is there
that we can do to ourselves which is very fearful to think
of?' ' Yes, destroy ourselves ; . and therefore St. Paul, writing
to those whom he seems to have specially loved, bid them
work out their own salvation, not only with hope and
cheerfulness, but also with fear and trembling ; for the very
reason that it is God who worketh in us, and that, where
He is, there should be a trembling awe and fear lest we
should use the power of free-will which He has given us to
destroy His work, and ourselves °?
"He had celebrated, for the last time in church, at
7 o'clock that morning. A friend dined and spent the
evening there ; he always liked, if he could, to have some
one to dine with him on Sundays. He left Hursley on the
foUowing Wednesday before the hour for morning service,
but he had been in his accustomed place in church for the
last time on the previous day, October 10 (his wedding-day),
and read the Second Lesson in the morning, the last words
of which were these : ' For the Son of Man is as a man

c Written at the time.

618 Appendix.

taking a far journey, who left his house, and gave authority
to his servants, and to every man his work, and commanded
the porter to watch. Watch ye therefore : for ye know not
when the master of the house cometh, at even, or at mid
night, or at the cock-crowing, or in the morning; Lest
coming suddenly he find you sleeping. And what I say
unto you I say unto all, Watch.' "
M. T.

INDEX.

Absolution, when to use the special
form, 610.
Acland, Arthur, 128.
^schylus, Prom. Vinct. cited, 405.
Agrarian Riots, a fruit of 43rd Eliz., 191.
Allen, Archd., letter on J. Keble, 569.
Ampfield Church, and Well, 283-5.
Andrewes, Bp., his Devotions referred
to, 296.
Arnold, Matthew, Poetry Professor at
Oxford, 211, 267.
Arnold, Thomas, Scholar of Corpus
Christi, 18 ; letter to Sir J. T. Cole
ridge, 42, 266 ; visits Keble from Lale-
ham, 132 ; Head-master at Rugby,
edits Thucydides, 183 ; and J. Keble,
265 — 269.
Ashburton, Lord, see Baring.
Augustine, St., the "Confessions" re
ferred to, 330.
Awdry, Sir John, at Hursley, 133.
Bagot, Bp., Keble dedicates his version
of the Psalter to him, 257.
Baker, Mr., Curate of Pitt, 446.
Baring, Mr., a pupil of J. Keble, 75, 79.
Barrington, Bp., 14.
Barrow, Dr., Principal of St. Edm. Hall,
Oxford, 455.
Barter, Rev. R. S., Warden of Win
chester College, 125.
Bartholomew, John, of Corpus Christi,
19.
Basil, St., on Tradition, 247.
Benson, Mr. , author of the term " Trac
tarian," 276 ; Sermon at the Temple
Church, ib.
Bernard, St., reference to his Sermons
on the Advent, 338.
Bernard, Sir Thomas, " Comforts of Old
Age," gg.

Bible, Commentary on part of, under
taken by J. Keble, 491, 556.
Binney, Horace, 420.
Bliss, Rev. W., letter to, on Sidmouth,
50 ; on authorship of the Christian
Year ; 166.
Bonnell, Mr., reference to the Life of,
141.
Bournemouth, Keble's visit to, 530 ; re
turn to, 536. ;
Boyes, Rev. B., Rector of East Leach,
64.
Bridges, Sir Brook W., letter to, 346.
Brotherhood, religious, rules submitted
to J. Keble, 332.
Brydges, T. , mathematical tutor to
Keble, 47.
Burthorpe, Keble curate of, 61.
Butterfield, Wm., gives design for a
Keble memorial window at Ampfield,
285 ; designs a memorial to Mr. Keble,
Capetown, Bp. of, case of Long versus.
498.
Cardwell, E., examining master, 1814,
55-
Carey, Bp., 30.
Carter, Mr., architect at Winchester, 283.
Catechizing, a specimen of J. Keble's
method, 572, 594.
ChUd, a, letters on the death of, 82,
3=4-
Children, how to examine them, 570.
Christian Year, progress and publica
tion of, 61, 102, 117, 122, 151, 152.
 second edition of, 175 ; summary
of the publisher's account, 155; re
marks on its success, 159 sqq. ; the
dedication, 122, 165 ; verses for Good
Friday cited, 560,

620

INDEX.

Church and State, the limits of their al
liance examined by Keble, 151.
— authority, where to be found, 439.
 of England, a layman's testimony
to it, 373.
 discipline and doctrine, 485.
 in Wales, Scotland, and Carlisle,
361, 363> 364-
— - of Rome, J. Keble's views on, 372,

426.

- the, supposed by the Christian
Year to be in a state of decay, 167,
Churcher, J., a servant of J. Keble, 243.
Churton, Mr., his illness, 1828, 183.
Clarke, Charlotte, 184 ; J. Keble's future
wife, 236.
Clarke, Mrs., at Lyme, 184,
Colenso, J. W., Bp. of Natal, J. Keble's
letter on the " Colenso Judgment,"
518, 540.
Coleridge, Rev. J. D., his death, 444.
Coleridge, Sir J. D., and the Abolition
of Tests Bill, 527 ; letter on J. Keble,
583-
Coleridge, Sir J. T., letter to Keble, 46.
 W. Hart, Bp. of Barbados, 113.
Coin, St. Aldwin's, the benefice of J.
Keble's father, 7, 108.
Confession in the Church of England,
302, 312, 545.
Confirmation at Hursley, J. Keble's pre
paration of Candidates, 510, 521, 593,
609.
Cooke, George Leigh, tutor of Corpus
Christi College, Oxford, 16 j tutor to
Keble, 47.
Copleston, Edw., Provost of Oriel, 10, 54,
77, 176.
Cornish, G. J., Scholar of C.C.C., 18;
sketch of his life, 29, 30 ; author of
poem to the Redbreast in the Chris
tian Year, 31 ; extracts from poems
0I"i 32» 33 : tis marriage, 88 ; his death,
369 ; death of his married daughter,
448.
Cornish, Mrs. George, visited by Keble,
416.
Corpus Christi College, Oxford, 9, 10.
Creweian Oration, by J. Keble, 1839,
translation of the peroration, 260.

Darnell, Mr., tutor of C. C. G, after
wards Rector of Stanhope, 14.
Davison, John, 54 ; leaves Oriel, 74 ; at
Washington, 98 ; revises the Chris-
Han. Year, 120, 153 ; publication of
his "Remains," 267.
Denison, Archdeacon, proceedings a-
gainst him, 423, 438.
Divorce, J. Keble on the Divorce Bill of
1857, 432-
Dogmersfield, C. Dyson Rector of, 46.
Dyce, Mr., R.A., gives a design for
stained glass windows at Hursley, 349,
Dyson, C, friend of Keble at C. C, C,
19, 74 ; sketch of his life, 35 — 46 ; at
Nunburnholme, 99 ; letters to Sir J,
T. Coleridge, 146, 245 ) his death; 464,
Dyson, Jeremiah, satirized by H. Wal
pole, 36.
Dyson, Mrs., 509.
Ecce Homo, J. Keble's remarks on that
book, 551.
Ellison, Nathaniel, 41.
Ellison, Noel T., friend of Keble at
C. C. C, 19,. 41 ; at Whalton, 98; his
death, 447.
Emigrants, J. Keble emyloyed on a ser
vice for their voyage, 416, 419.
" Essays and Reviews" case, 485.
Eucharistical Adoration, publication of
pamphlet on, 437.
Euripides, translation of Alcestis, 231,
Eveleigh, Dr., Provost of Oriel, 1806, 13.
Faber, F. A., introduces J. Keble to
W. Wordsworth, 259.
Fairford, Keble's birthplace, 5 ; he re
turns to it from Hursley, 145.
Fasting, letter p on, by J. Keble, 149;
some rules for, 612.
Fathers, Library of the, 262.
Fielding, Mr., gives a design for stained-;
glass windows at Hursley, 349.
FitzWalter, Lord, see Bridges.
Forbes, Bishop, and the Scottish Con;
troversy, 450, 457.
Forbes, Mr., of Medwyn, Mr. Keble
¦ visits, 458.
Freeman, Archdeacon, 430.

INDEX.

62I

Fremantle, Mr,, pupil of J. Keble, 75, 79.
Froude, Hurrell, residence with Keble
at Southrop, no; sketch of his cha
racter, ni;his"Remains,"248; sketch
of his life, 25a ; Keble's share in editing
the "Remains," 253.
Gaussen, Mr., a pupil of J. Keble, 54.
Grenville, Lord, Chancellor of the Uni
versity of Oxford, founder of the Latin
Essay prize, his presentation of books
to Keble, 49.
Hallam, Henry, on the three disputed
books of Hooker, 196, 198.
Hampden, Dr., letter on his appoint
ment at Oxford, 242 ; Bishop of Here
ford, 352.
Harrison, Mr., Architect of, Hursley
Church, 288.
Hatsell, Mr., 36.
Hawkins, Dr., Provost of Oriel, 178 — 180.
Heathcote, Archdeacon, Incumbent of
Otterbourne and Hursley, 123 ; his
death, 187.
Heathcote, Gilbert Wall, Vicar of Hurs
ley, 188.
Heathcote, SirW.,introduced to J.Keble,
79 ; recommends Keble to the curacy
of Hursley, 123 ; at Hursley, 1825,
131 ; gives vicarage-house at Hursley,
123 ; at Ampfield, 285 ; completes tower
and spire of Hursley Church, 351.
Heber, Bishop, Keble introduced to him
at Oxford, 94.
Hedgeland, Mr., of Penzance, 493 ; his
letter to the " Guardian," 495.
Herbert, George, the "Temple "referred
to, 173-
Hooker, Richard, Keble edits his works,
192 — 204.
Howley, Abp., criticism on the Oxford
Psalter, 257.
Hursley, Keble curate of, 123, 130; the
Vicarage offered to and declined by
Keble, 187 ; G. W. Heathcote, Vicar,
188 ; Keble, Vicar of, 239 ; Church at,
287 ; stained-glass windows at, 347*
India House Examinations, Keble ap
pointed examiner, iSS.

Irenaeus, St., translated by J. Keble, 265.
Isle of Man, visited by Keble, 367.
Jackson, Bishop, ordains Keble,. 59.
Jersey, Mr. and Mrs. Keble visit St.
Brelade, 337.
Jews, their example as a nation, 151,
219, 225.
Keble, John, birth of, 5; verses 011
leaving C.C.C, 20 ; passed his Final
Examination, 1810, 47; elected Proba
tionary Fellowof Oriel, 1811, 48 ; prizes
won by, 49 ; verses on Sidmouth, 52,
53 ; Examining Master,. 1814, 55 ; 1835,
230; Deacon, 1815, 59; Priest, 1816,
ib. ; Examiner in Final Schools, 70,
102 ; Examiner in Responsions, 1817,
70 ; appointed tutor at Oriel, 1817, 72 ;
verses on a monument in Lichfield Ca
thedral, 98 ; resigns tutorship at Oriel,
1823, 103 ; verses on a deceased sister,
105, 143 ; a present of plate given to-him,
109 ; offered Archdeaconry of Barbados,
1x4 ; study ofthe Fathers, 150 ; conside
ration of questions of Church and State,
151 ; finishes the Christian Year, 152 ;
Examiner at the India House, 188 ; re
fuses living of Paignton, 305 ; Poetry
Professor, 206 — 217 ; Sermon on Na
tional Apostasy, 218 ; contributes to the
" Tracts for the Times," 220, 224 ; esti
mate of the Fathers, 222, 227 ; pub
lishes the Oxford Psalter, 255 ; de
livers Creweian Oration, 258 ; the " Li
brary ofthe Fathers," 262; part taken
with regard to " Tract 90," 271 ; reli
gious difficulties, 296 sqq.', verses on the
Annunciation, 316 ; publishes the Lyra
Innocentium, 1846, 321 ; verses on guar
dian angels, 325, 326; publishes A ca-
demical and Occasional Sermons, 340;
Letter on Representation ofthe Uni
versity, 346 ; visit to North Wales,
360; Tour in Scotland, 315, 363:
the " Library of Anglo-Catholic Theo
logy," 366 ; visits Sidmouth, Lyme Re
gis, and Heath's Court, 370 ; verses on
hedge-flowers, 418 ; Argument on Di
vorce Bill, 432 ; Work on Ewkxris-

622

XNDEX.

tical Adoration, 437; Considerations
suggested by a late Pastoral Letter,
451 ; thinks of resigning Hursley, 470,
497 ; Commentary on the Bible, 491 ;
On the Subscription and Oaths of the
Clergy, 505 ; illness, 512, 557 ; the
Oxford Election, 516 ; the Colenso
Judgment, 518 ; Address to the Newly-
confirmed at Hursley, 521 ; Letter on
Ritual, 541 ; death, 559 ; burial, 561 ;
memorial to him, ib. ," character of as
a Parish Priest, 567.
Keble, John, letter to Miss Baker, 324.
¦  Letter to Mrs. Billamore, 91.
 Letter to W. Bliss, 50.
 :  Letters to Sir J.T. Coleridge,
26, 56 — 59, 62, 65, 70 — 72, 80, 82, 85,
88, 89, 93, 103, 114, 117, 131, 134, 137,
153, 164, 176, 180, 199, 220, 235, 237,
246, 247, 250, 272, 290, 292, 2g9, 307,
334, 376, 4i3, 4*7, 435, 448, 473, 5*5,
525, 538, 545, 547-52.
 Letters to G. Cornish, 6, 24,

60, 101, 119, 149, 237, 247, 265, 368.
 Letters to C. Dyson, 28, 31,

39, 85, 94, 99, 104, 115, 118, 147, 164,
177, 193, 200, 219, 238, 308, 412.
 Letters to H. Froude, 121,
139, 178, 187, 201.
 Letters to Sir W. Heathcote,

- Letter to Mr. Hedgeland, 494.
- Letter to EUs. Keble, 14.
- Letter to T. Keble, 234.
¦ Letter to Miss Mackenzie, 554.
- Letter to Mr. Pruen, 122.
- Letters to Mr. Richards, 220,
- Letter to S. Walker, 172.
- Letters to R. F. Wilson, 407,
- Letters on his approaching
marriage and settlement at Hursley,
237, 241.
Keble, John, sen., Vicar of Coin St. Aid-
win, 7 ; death of, 229.
Keble, Joseph and Richard, ancestors of
J. Keble, 4.
Keble, Mary Anne, John Keble's sister,
103, 104; her death, 137.

4=5-

Keble, Sarah, mother of John Keble, her
death, 103.
Keble, Sarah, John Keble's sister, her
death, 56,
Keble, Charlotte, letter to Elis. Keble,
242 ; wife of John Keble, her illness,
473, 529» 546 sqq.; her death, 580;
her character, 581.
Keble, Elisabeth, eldest sister of John
Keble, 14; her illness, 55, 62, 136;
letter on her father's last illness, 229 ;
her death, 457.
Keble, Thomas, his illness, 85 ; curate
of Burthorp and Southrop, 130.
Keble, Thomas, jun., 189 ; his marriage,
3^9-
Keble College, Oxford, xv. ; see Oxford.
Knox, Alex., letter on his "Remains,"
250.
Leach, East, Keble curate of, 61, 109.
Le Geyt, Mr., assistant curate of Hurs
ley, 435-
Lichfield, Keble's visit to, and verses on
a monument in the Cathedral, 98.
Lincoln, Keble visits it, 100.
Lloyd, Bp., Keble's respect for him, 152*
"Long v. Capetown," Keble's opinion
of the decision, 498.
Lymington and Lyndhurst, Keble visits
them, 6.
Lyra Innocentium, its publication, 290
— 321-
Mackenzie, Bishop, 551, 554.
Magdalen College, Oxford, gives a site
for Otterbourne new church, 282.
Malthus, Keble's opinion of him, 191.
Malvern, visited by Keble, 101.
Markland, J. H., 265.
Marriage with deceased wife's sister,
37i, 4=5-
Marriott, C, Fellow of Oriel College, his
share in editing the " Library of the
Fathers," 264 ; his scheme for a Poor
Men's College, 333.
Matrimony, Holy, tract on, 226.
Maule, Sarah, mother of John Keble, 7.
Meditation, a method of, 607.

INDEX.

623

Medley, John, Bishop of Fredericton,
378-
Miller, John, friend of J. Keble, 23 ;
his death, 25 ; works, 25, 26 ; at Brock-
leton, 101 ; volume of sermons, 190 ;
, suggests the Tract on the Sunday Les
sons, 225; his ''Christian Guide" re
ferred to, 321.
Milman, H- H., Dean of St. Paul's, Uni
versity prizes won by, 49.
Milton, John, Keble's judgment of, 67-9.
Moberly, Dr., Head Master of St. Mary
Winton College, 125.
Mormonites, the, 592.
Nazing, G Dyson's benefice, 38.
Newman, Dr., visits Keble at Hursley,
248; edition of the "Library of the
Fathers," 262; and "Tract 90," 271 —
280 ; letter on his meeting Dr. Pusey
at Hursley Vicarage, 1865, 531 ; the
Apologia, 615.
Norris, Mr., of Hackney, 244.
Nun Burnholme, C. Dyson's benefice,
38 ; visited by J. Keble, 99.
Ordination, thoughts on, 57, 60.
Oriel College in 1818, 77 ; letters from
Keble on the Provostship, 1827, 8,
176 — 181 ; Statutes examined by New
man, 248 ; testimonial presented to J.
Keble, 109 ; Provostship election, 176.
Otterbourne Rectory, building of new
church and parsonage, 281 sqq.
Oxford University j}0os, 397.
 Poetry Professorship, 206 ; Assize
Sermon preached by Keble, 1833, 218 ;
University Reform Bill, 383 ; Local ex
aminations, 467.
 Reform Bill, 383 sqq.
 Private Halls, 386.

Patteson, Sir John, 82 ; death of his
wife, 84 ; his death, 467.
 John Coleridge, Bishop of Mela-

- Keble College at, 403.

 Local examinations, 471.
 University, contemplated changes
at, 549.
 election contest, 1865, 517,

527-
Oxford Psalter, the, 256 sqq.
Paignton, presentation to the living de
clined by J. Keble, 205.

nesia, 467.
Peel, Sir Robert, resigns his seat for
Oxford, 185.
Pennington, Mr., 75.
Penrose, T., 19, 103.
Penzance, J. Keble winters at, 475 ; his
ministrations at, 493, 500.
Pitt, a hamlet of Hursley, 286 ; school
chapel built there, 445.
Plumer, Charles, at Hursley, 133.
Poetry, J. Keble's theory of, 121.
Prcelectiones A eadem icce, 206 — 217; an
offer of translating them received by
J. Keble, 547-
Privy Council, Judicial Committee of,
483-
Pruen, Mr., Curate of Fladbury, 89.
Puritanism, its growth in England, 1828,
r8S.
Pusey, Dr., one of the editors of the
" Library of the Fathers," 262.
Quakers, note on the literary Remains
of a deceased convert, 149.
Reed, Professor, 417, 420.
Richmond, George, R.A., gives design
for stained-glass windows at Hursley,
349-
Ritual, J. Keble's letter on, 542.
-Robertson, F. W., remarks on his bio
graphy, 551.
Robertson, Mrs., 551, 554-
Rogers, Sir F., requests J. Keble to
compose Services for Emigrants, 419.
Rolleston, Mr., English Verse Prize
gained by, 1808, 15.
Sainsbury, Dr., of Romsey, 530. .
Scotland, Keble's tour in, 363.
Scriptures, J. Keble's manner of reading
the, 577, 604.
Selwyn, Bishop, at Hursley, 409.
Sermons, parochial, by J. Keble, 453,
465-
Shairp, Professor, note on his Essay on
Mr. Keble, 156.

624

INDEX.

Sidmouth, Keble receives pupils there,
49 ; description ofthe scenery, 50, 51,
Smith, Stafford, Rector of Fladbury,
Keble's godfather, 8, 90.
Southey, Robert, his opinion of J. Mil
ler's Sermon, 26 ; Keble introduced to
him, 93 ; letter to Neville White, 97 ;
" Colloquies" suggest a form for a new
edition of Keble's Pmiectiones, 215.
Southey, Dr., 306.
Southrop, Keble curate at, 108.
Stanley, A. P., Dean of Westminster,
extract from his Life of Thos. Arnold,
10.
Subscription and Oaths of the Clergy,
5°7-
Sumner, Charles, Bishop of Winchester,
applied to to license the Oxford Psal
ter in his diocese, 256.
Sunday Lessons, on the Principle of
Selection, 225.
Switzerland, visited by Keble, 435.
Taylor, Jeremy, Keble's judgment of,
67-9.
Torquay, Keble's stay at, 499.
"Tracts for the Times," their publication
and effect, 220, 228; " Tract 90," 270
— 280.
"Tractarians," when first so named, 276.
Tradition, Sermon on, 246.
Troyte, A., at Hursjey, 129 ; see Ac-
land, A.
Tucker, J., a friend of J. Keble at
C.C.C, 19 ; at Lenham, 121 ; at Hurs
ley, 133.
Turner, W. H., a friend of J. Keble at
C.C.C, 19.
Tyacke, Mr., of Penzance, 502.
Tyler, Mr., of Oriel, 88.
Vows, letter on, by J. Keble, 150.

Wailes, Mr., memoria window to J.
Keble designed by Wm. Butter-
field, Esq., 285 ; executes the Hursley
windows, 349.
Wales, J. Keble's tour in, 361.
Walker, Rev. Samuel, letter to, from
J. Keble, 172.
Washington, J, Davison, incumbent of,
98.
Westerton and Liddell case decided, 428,
Whalton, Keble's visit to Ellison at, 98.
Whitby, visited by Keble, 456.
White, Mr., of Ampfield, 285.
Wilberforce, R. W., residence with Keble
at Southrop, no; his treatise on the
Holy Eucharist, 379 ; his secession to
the Church of Rome, 414.
Williams, Isaac, residence with J. Keble
at Southrop, no; the Poetry Profes
sorship, 274.
Wilson, R. F., J. Keble's first assistant
curate, 285 ; first incumbent of Amp
field, 359, 363.
Wilson, Thomas, Bishop of Sodor and
Man, his Life by Keble, 367, 463, 482.
. Winchester, Sermon at the Archdeacon's
visitation preached by J . Keble, 246.
Wordsworth, W., J. Keble's acquaint
ance with his poems, 18 ; his admira
tion of the Christian Year, reception
in the Theatre at Oxford, 18, 259 ;
Keble dedicates his Pralectiones to
him, 18, 261 ; interview with J. Keble,
3°5 •
Yonge, Wm. C-, gives the design for the
Otterbourne and Ampfield churches,
282 ; his death, 381.
York, city of, visited by J. Keble, 456,
Young, Peter, assistant curate at Hurs
ley, 314 ; leaves Hursley, 431 sqq. ,'
his account of Mr. Keble's pastoral ,
work, 509, 587.

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