religious antipathy to Elizabeth. Mary has, notwithstanding the verdict of friends as well as of foes, continued to bewitch a large part of posterity into belief in her innocence. ART. VIII.—1. A Memoir of Charles James Blomfield, D.D., Bishop of London; with Selections from his Correspondence. Edited by his Son, Alfred Blomfield, M.A., Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford, and Incumbent of St. Philip's, Stepney. 1863. 2. Addresses and Charges of Edward Stanley, D.D. (late Bishop of Norwich); with a Memoir. By his Son, Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of University College, Oxford. 1851. 3. The Life of the Right Rev. Daniel Wilson, D.D., late Lord Bishop of Calcutta and Metropolitan of India. By the Rev. Josiah Bateman, M.A., Rector of North Cray, Kent, his Son-in-Law and First Chaplain. 2 vols. 8vo. London. 1859. FEW branches of literature are more generally, or, if well executed, more deservedly popular than biographies. The history of almost any man, if truly and simply told, must be full of interest to other men. The causes of this interest are suggested with all his wonted tenderness of touch and truth of sentiment by M. Guizot in his étude entitled L'Amour dans le Mariage.' 'Men will have,' he says, 'romances. Why not instead look closely into history? There, too, they would find human life, with its infinitely varied and dramatic scenes; the human heart with all its passions, startling and tender, and, above all, the master-charm of reality. Beings who have really lived, who have actually felt the chances, the passions, the joys and griefs, the aspect of which affects us so powerfully, these seen close at hand attract me more powerfully than the most perfect of romances. A human being, the handywork of God, so displayed before us, is far above the works of man. Of all poets God is the greatest." 1* Beyond, moreover, this portraiture of human nature, many biographies afford the finest and most real of touches of history. Events are for the most part only interesting to us in proportion to our power of associating with them the feelings, and sufferings, and interests of the men by whom they were accomplished, or on whom they acted; and when therefore biography reveals to us the * 'L'Amour dans le Mariage,' 1 and 2. VOL. CXIV. L-19 actors in the great dramas of history as they really lived and felt, and aspired and wrought, it rises to the highest conceivable conditions of interest. The difficulty of obtaining such biography is extreme. Writers who follow the subjects of their memoirs at a small distance of time are peculiarly liable to imperfect and distorted views. Mists ever hang the thickest and the darkest around the near objects of the low valleys, even when the giant tops which pierce the sky are bright in their inaccessible distance with the light of heaven. Actual contemporaries are almost certain to be too much interested on the one side or the other in the scenes in which their hero has been an actor to be free from the strong temptation to depreciate an adversary or to exalt a friend. Autobiography is, perhaps, the best form which this species of contemporary history can take. For though there are few who can take so impartial a view of themselves, and of matters round them, as to pen. lines like those in which Gibbon has so inimitably sketched himself, yet it is easier for honest criticism to rectify, so to speak, the misrepresentations of the autobiographer than those of the friendly relator as to whose special views and weaknesses it has not such full information. This is the best justification we know of that of which late years have given so many examples, namely, the writing of the father's life by the son. For this is the next step to autobiography. It is not plainly without its peculiar dangers. The portrait of a mother exhibited in the Royal Academy, in 1862, shows us that there are faces which a son can venture to draw with absolute fidelity, and that there are limners capable of transferring exquisitely to canvas the well-known and beloved lineaments. But there are not many painters like Sir Coutts Lindsay, nor many subjects such as it was his lot to paint. Still such sketching is autobiography at one remove, and we are ready to receive it as such, and are, we believe, able, when so taken, to correct by a calculation which is not in itself difficult, the errors which are likely to find their way into the recorded series. The works, the titles of which we have placed at the head of this article, are all of this character; two of them being written by sons, and one by the son-in-law of the subjects of their memoirs. In literary merit they differ widely. Mr. Bateman's Life of his father-inlaw is detailed, and evidently faithful; but homely and unpretending in its execution. The most living parts are those in which the Bishop is let to speak for himself. The chaplain son-in-law's surrounding text suggests to us the belief that he was something scandal ised by the more unrestrained movements of his episcopal superior, and would, if he could, have cut the doublet something squarer, slouched the hat a little broader, and settled the somewhat coarse but kindly and expressive features into a more habitually artificial gravity. Canon Stanley's memoir is a very different production, though he, too, has a few difficulties to reduce, and a few softening touches with which to send forth his portraiture before a critical world. But it exhibits all the excellences of his character and the graces of his pen. There is that power of making the picture live before the eye, which adds so fascinating a charm to all his writings. There is such a loving reverence breathing through the whole, that it soon imparts itself to the reader; and as he proceeds he is hardly able to blame what he disapproves. As we read of his father's work on Birds, and on his reception of Jenny Lind, we could almost fancy that the Canon of Christchurch found some interest in Natural History, and did not abhor Music. The memoir is what all his writings are a most skilful, because a concealed, justification of his own opinions, thrown into a sketch of such beauty of language, such tenderness of feeling, and such completeness of execution, that we cannot imagine any reader of well-instructed taste beginning the memoir and laying it down unfinished. We must in truthfulness add, that discerning and observant readers will, we fear, trace already in these pages an inclination to blot out the supernatural element from a revelation which, if it be not supernatural, must be false alike in fact and in intention. It grieves us to mark this tendency; nor should we have called attention to it here, had we not felt bound to mingle with our praises this note of caution as to every theological composition of this polished and graceful pen. ance. how small was its volume beside the living man who cast it from him. The volumes have, upon the whole, escaped the dulness of a chronicle, whilst they are a real sketch— generally fair, and sometimes almost dramatic of the events in the midst of which the Bishop's life was cast. They are, too, all sketches which possess the double claim on our attention of representing human life as it was seen by the narrators close at hand for our interest and instruction, and also of affording many materials for the history of the years which have but recently passed from us, in one, at least, of their most important chapters-the changes which have passed in them on the religious life of this nation. At first sight, perhaps, it might seem as if the Church of England could not be greatly affected by the character of those who happened at the time to be even her leading prelates. That such an impress of individual bishops can be traced upon the broader flow of the Church Catholic, we all allow. After the lapse of all the intervening years, we see yet upon the bosom of those ancient waters the reflected lineaments of such men as St. Basil, St. Ambrose, St. Athanasius, and St. Augustin. But our church seems to be so identified with the national life of England, and to be so hemmed in with the narrowing accidents of Articles, fixed Services, and legal decisions, that it scarcely affords a breast tranquil enough to mirror the features of individuals, or sufficiently expansive to be capable of being stirred this way or that by the breath of these separate influences, how strong soever they may be. Yet a closer re-examination of facts seems to establish a contrary conclusion. Fixed, definite, and national as undoubtedly is the character of the Church of England, yet no one can doubt but that it has been greatly affected by the personal character and individual leanings of such men as Whitgift, Laud, Sancroft, and Tillotson, or even, in spite of his extraordi weaknesses, of Burnett. We may, then, hope to gather from the records of such more modern lives as these, some important suggestions as to the recent history of our Church. The memoir of Bishop Blomfield, if it does not sparkle or beguile like that of Bishop Stanley, is on the whole a creditable perform-nary The Life was in more respects than one difficult for a son to write. It would not have been difficult to make it jocular and unbecoming its purpose; it would have been easy to make it stately, defensive, and dull. It has happily, to a great degree, avoided both of these dangers. If those who were familiar with the Bishop, and knew how his overtasked mind continually sought some rest in fun and merriment, sometimes complain of the absence of his jests, we must remind them that to have read the written joke, in the midst of the narrative of the Life, would have been a widely different thing from witnessing the spark as it was cast forth the candescent metal, and seeing Few can doubt that, in the last sixty years, there have passed over it many marked and important changes. At the commencement of the century it seemed as if the Church was passing rapidly and hopelessly into a mere department of the State, touching public worship. The suppression of her Convocations had proved a great step in this direction. She had lost all power of corporate action, and, as must be the result, the loss of the power of corporate feeling had certainly and not slowly followed. Further, through a long succession of years, her truest- | break of the Feathers' Tavern petition was hearted and most able sons had been studi- but the coming forth to light and day of ously excluded from all clerical posts of what had long been spreading secretly place and power. Such a policy was, per- through all ranks of the National Clergy. haps, an unavoidable, certainly a most mis- Every attempt at increased theological liberty chievous consequence of the Revolution, through those unhappy days, was only an which placed upon the throne a king effort to render possible within the Church de facto, whom many of his most conscien- the open profession of Socinianism. The tious subjects could not regard as king de same evil leaven is marked as plainly in the jure, with sufficient certainty to enable them degeneracy of a literature which can boast with clear consciences to transfer to him the of little in prose better than the 'dull oaths of allegiance which they had already good sense of Tillotson' (as Bishop Berketaken to another. The Court patronage of ley's and the greater Bishop Butler's are in Hoadley prolonged and fixed this miserable all respects except cases), and in verse the tradition; and the desperate worldliness of wretched doggrel of Tate and Brady. It is Walpole carried it out through his long ten-marked as plainly in the base nepotism and ure of power with an almost instinctive sagacity of choice. The long continuance of such a series of appointments must have a palsying effect upon the whole spiritual body. When the highest abilities, the soundest learning, and the heartiest loyalty, are thus resolutely ostracised, there is first, and of immediate necessity, an enfeebling of the strength which should have been supplied by the resources thus withheld. The effect of this is just what would result from like causes acting on the natural body. There is a loss of tone: a general tendency to apathy and listlessness. Nor is this all. On the men thus marked for unmerited exclusion, even though they may be the most highminded and patient, such a system works for evil. There is no legitimate room for the exertion of talents which, when they are not spent for the blessing of others, feed inwardly upon the heart of him in whom they dwell. Nor is it possible that they should love as they could have loved it, the community of which they are scarcely admitted to be loyal citizens. They may pray for the peace of the city in which they sojourn, but it cannot be to them as the Zion in which they have delighted with all the intensity of Christian ardour. It is a dira noverca, not a loving mother, for whom they are called upon to labour. worldliness of the greater number of the ecclesiastics; in their miserable cringing to the Minister of the day; in their occasional mendicancy as to his gifts; and too frequently in what appears to have been their utterly unconscious neglect of the spiritual functions of their Apostolic office. For these were the days in which the custom of visiting but once in his episcopate was established by the Bishop of Winchester; of confirming but once in his archiepiscopate by the Metropolitan of York; of never residing in his diocese by a Bishop of Llandaff. It is marked, as might be expected, in the clergy who served under such bishops, by low tastes, low manners, and not a little of openly dissolute living amongst the mass of parish priests. It is marked, both amongst bishops and clergy, by a neglect of 'the people committed to their charge; which, as we now look back upon it, appears to be almost incredible. Mr. Blomfield give us some instances of this degraded standard of episcopal duty. The chaplain and son-in-law of Bishop North (1781-1820) examined two candidates for Orders in a tent on a cricket-field, he himself being engaged as one of the players. Bishop Pelham (18071827) performed the same duty on one occasion by sending a message by his butler to the candidate to write an essay. The chaplain of Bishop Douglas (1787-1807) did it whilst shaving, and stopped the examination when the examinee had construed two words. The laxity of Bishop Bathurst, of Norwich (1805-1837), known to his Whig admirers as "The good Bishop," with regard to ordination, is well known. The natural consequence of this state of things was a very low These evil effects may be traced plainly standard of theological acquirements amongst amongst ourselves as the fruits of the tradi- the country clergy' (vol. i. p. 60). Bishop tion begun amidst the troubles of the Revo- Watson's own self-applauding estimate of his lution, and continued through the days of episcopal life at Calgarth, in Westmoreland, Hoadley and Walpole. They may be seen whilst irreligion and Methodism took possesin that which is the sure root of all other sion of his neglected diocese, is too lively a weakness-the lowering of the whole doc- picture of this state of things to be omitted. trinal standard of the Church. The out-I have now,' he says, about 1809, 'spent The sight, too, of such perpetual wrongs endured by such men as they will endure them, produces a marvellous effect upon the more generous-hearted of the young, who ought to furnish the next generation of clergy, and their early aspirations are weaned from the ministry of such a church. No! it has about twenty years in this delightful country, but my time has not been spent in idle visitings, in county bickerings, in indolence or intemperance. been spent partly in supporting the religion and constitution of the country by seasonable publications, and principally in. What do our readers of 1863 expect from the aged Bishop-building farmhouses, blasting rocks, enclosing wastes, in making bad land good, in planting larches, and implanting in the hearts of my children principles of piety and self-government." It really does not seem to have occurred to him that he had anything else to do. And yet Bishop Watson was a highly distinguished Whig Bishop, and his Apology' was considered a masterly performance. But the Life of Mr. Pitt furnishes us with an instance of selfish ravening for wealth in a member of the same order, which is worse than this. It occurs in the correspondence which passed between the Minister and the Bishop of Litchfield and Coventry, the brother of Earl Cornwallis: 'Wimpole Street, June 10, 1791. 'SIR-After the various instances of neglect and contempt which Lord Cornwallis and I have experienced, not only in violation of repeated assurances, but of the strongest ties, it is impossible that I should not feel the late disappointment very deeply. With respect to the proposal concerning Salisbury, I have no hesitation in saying that the see of Salisbury cannot be in any respect an object to me. The only arrangement which promises an accommodation in my favour is the promotion of the Bishop of Lincoln to Salisbury, which would enable you to confer the Deanery of St. Paul's upon me. I have the honour to be, &c., 'T. LITCHFIELD AND COVENTRY.' Downing Street, Saturday Morning, June 11, 1791. 'MY LORD,-On my return to town this afternoon I found your Lordship's letter. I am willing to hope that on further consideration, and on recollecting all the circumstances, there are parts of that letter which you would yourself wish never to have written. My respect for your Lordship's situation, and my regard for Lord Cornwallis, prevent my saying more than that until that letter is recalled your Lordship makes any further intercourse between you and me impossible. 'I have the honour to be, &c., I beg leave to retract; and I hope they wil make no unfavourable impression upon your mind. Whatever may be your thoughts respecting will have the candour to pardon those parts of it the subject matter of the letter, I trust that you which may appear to be wanting in due and proper respect to you, and believe me to have the honour to be, &c., 'T. LITCHFIELD AND COVENTRY.* Let any man read the early life of John Wesley, if he would gain any due estimate of the then current state of things. Or, if he would see how even amongst the best Bishops, down almost to our own days, all living consciousness that they were the spiritual instructors of the people had well nigh faded out of sight, let him weigh the fact that with London multiplying all but visibly under his eyes, Bishop Porteus bequeathed a princely fortune to a nephew, but never built or endowed a single church in the vast metropolis entrusted to his charge; whilst so little was he a preaching bishop, that he could reply to the request for a charity sermon: 'I only give one in a year, and the next is promised.'t the bulk of our mining and manufacturing These accordingly were the days in which which, indolently folding its hands, left them population were alienated from a Church, to find amongst the Methodists their only religious teachers. These were the days in which the great middle class, so distinctive a feature of our nation, were largely lost by like causes through all our increasing towns to the Church of their fathers. These were the days in which, like the mighty ice-stream of the glacier, which moves slowly on because the temperature of all its mass lingers at the freezing point, the religion of society amongst us had sunk sadly down to the frozen point of a lifeless, even where it was a respectable, profession of belief in Christianity. The coming reaction against this state of things awoke first in what has commonly been called the Evangelical party. Of that party, in its merits and its defects, the life of Bishop Daniel Wilson, of Calcutta, is in many respects a sufficient exposition. Warmhearted, zealous, earnestly pious, but withal shallow and eminently technical in his views of religion, with an amount of self-importance which often invested even the most sacred subjects with a hue so simply personal, that it made him at once unawares exquisitely comic and most unintentionally irreverend * Stanhope's 'Life of Pitt,' ii. 128. 'Life of Bishop Blomfield,' i. 61. We can never forget Lord Macaulay's narrative of the family prayers in which Bishop Wilson, ask ing for a chaplain barking for Madras that he Hence he moved as possessed so strongly by party spirit, that | Wilson' (Life, p. 67). even his kind heart could not always save the successor of Mr. Cecil, in 1809, to St. him from harshness and injustice, he mani- John's Chapel, Bedford Row, then the Metrofested, we think, in his administration of the politan centre of his party. great diocese of Calcutta what his scheme of theological life could, and even more signally what it could not, accomplish. .... His 'habits and tastes' are thus sketched by his biographer. He was always a student. . . . . The imaginative faculty cannot be regarded as predominating in his mind. Though living at the very time when the tales and novels of Walter Scott were exert all their witchery, it is doubtful if he ever read one of them. . . . The hymn was perhaps a greater favourite than the poem... he loved to hear them sung. . . . His voice would join in the praise, but it is impossible to say that it added to the harmony. He had no ear for music, and this defect. extended to the pronunciation of languages; for those which he knew perfectly.... he yet could not pronounce correctly,' &c.,p. 74. The biography of such a man in such a post cannot but be full of interest; and we should do injustice to him or to his biographer if we did not add that it can hardly be reading without great profit by any one who desires to gain good from it. Our readers will hardly enter into what we have said and have got to say without having before them a brief abstract of this volume and its biography. Daniel Wilson was born in Spitalfields in 1788, of a family whose spiritual authorities were Whitfield and Richard Cecil, and which attended sometimes their parish church, sometimes Mr. Romaine's, sometimes a Dissenting chapel in White Row, sometimes the Tabernacle in Moorfields (Life, p. 4). The natural fruit of this uncertainty of religious teaching was seen in the youth of the future bishop. He entered the service of a kinsman of his own name, a silk merchant in Cheapside, and is described whilst there as being 'sceptical in his views, impetuous in temper, with passions strong,' and so, as one who walked in the counsel of the ungodly, stood in the way of sinners, and sat in the seat of the scornful' (Life, p. 6). But out of this state he was early roused. In a young man of such a character as his, the struggle through which he passed into his subsequent condition could not but be severe; and the peculiar tenets of the school in which he learned the austere but blessed lesson of repentance were in the process strongly marked upon him. They fell in moreover with his natural inclination, and were deepened by the circumstances of his life. His change of principles led him even naturally to long for the ministry as his profession. And when, after some opposition, his friends yielded to this wish, he entered on his academical career at St. Edmund's Hall, then the chosen seat of his exclusive sect at Oxford. His first curacy was at Chobham under Cecil-the one clerical genius of his party; and in due time he succeeded to the tutorship of his old Hall. Here as elsewhere his tendency to egotism showed itself in amusing outbreaks, and he was so much the most donnish amongst dons that from his diligent enforcement of their use he earned for himself the sobriquet of 'Bands .... With all these disadvantages, it is well worthy of remark that, through his real piety, his vigorous understanding, and his constant study, he held with power, success in its best sense, and increasing popularity, the pulpit of St. John's from 1809 to 1824. This is well sketched by Mr. Bateman. He stood as God's minister to do God's work. He was an earnest man when earnest men were comparatively rare. He fully preached the gospel. . . . He was steadfast and moderate. His manner was natural. His enunciation was remarkably clear and distinct. His action varied with the subject. Those who have known him in the decline of life have no idea of his power in the pulpit of St. John's (p. 98). The congregation was calculated to draw out all the powers of the minister. They were gathered from all parts of the metropolis. Amongst the regular attendants were the Thornton family. There sat Charles Grant with his family and two distinguised sons. There also sat Zachary Macaulay accompanied by his son. Lawyers of note were pew holders. The labour and excitement of this life bowed down a naturally robust constitution, and Wilson was already a weakened man when, in 1824, he became vicar of Islington, where he remained until, in 1832, he was nominated by Mr. Grant (afterwards Lord Glenelg) to the bishopric of Calcutta. The circumstances of his appointment were in one respect not a little curious, and highly indicative of his character. He volunteered for |