I first met him at Norwich where we took part in a Bible Meeting, and in the course of my remarks I spoke of “sinking ecclesiastical differences” on such an occasion. Dr. Magee, then Dean of Cork, made an amusing reference to this, and repeated it with kindness and humour the next day, as we travelled together by rail to London. We talked incessantly and at the end he pressed me to visit him at Cork. Several years passed without our meeting, and then at a funeral service in Westminster Abbey, he kindly accosted me, saying, that as I had not been to see him at Cork, I must go and see him at Peterborough, where, not long before, he had been appointed bishop. Several visits followed, which I greatly enjoyed. My impression of him as a brilliant talker, which I received on our journey from Norwich to London, was now increased, and nothing could exceed his hospitality and that of his amiable wife and daughters. We had several drives; and one day we sat down together in a picturesque churchyard to discuss ecclesiastical questions, where, as he said, the associations and “genius loci” were on his side. I forget altogether what passed between us, beyond a series of pros and cons, and can only say that we finished as we began—he a Churchman, I a Nonconformist, but both good friends. Once when I was at Peterborough I heard him preach in the Cathedral for the Bible Society, on the jubilee of the auxiliary, when he took for his text two passages: “Is not this the carpenter’s son?” “The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” He admirably brought out the Divine and human sides of our blessed Lord’s personality and then presented this as being in harmony with the Divine and human elements in Holy Writ. As is well known, he did not use a MS. in the pulpit; nor, as he told me, was he in the habit of writing his sermons beforehand. He seems to have had the gift of mental composition, and also of expressing himself extemporaneously in felicitous diction and with quiet ease. Nor was he at all verbose, as many fluent speakers are.
He could tell a story as few people can, sparkling with humour, and distinct in point. I remember two he told of Dean Mansel. Taking a lady round St. Paul’s, she paused to look at a figure of Neptune with his trident, remarking that she was shocked at seeing in a church such heathen mythology. “Why,” rejoined the Dean, “that looks more like Tridentine theology.” At a public dinner, after a toast to Reform—the word on the paper had an e at the end—“Reform,” the Dean remarked, “often ended in an émeute.”
As I was preparing for my journey in Spain I met the Bishop at the Athenæum, when he told me he was doing the same, and proposed we should go together, adding that he could help me with his knowledge of Spanish. I had heard him speak of his residence in Spain when he was a boy, and I should have been delighted to fall in with his plan, but found it quite impossible beforehand with regard to time. However, we agreed to inquire after each other at consular offices, as we passed from place to place; but I found I was always too late, or too soon. When I called at an hotel in Madrid, where he had been staying, I learned he had just left for the railway; and after our return, he told me his daughter saw me in the street as they were hurrying to catch a train.
How many remarkable facts have been related within the last few years respecting old English houses and estates!
During a visit to Lord Ebury, at Moor Park, he told me the mansion he occupied had been in the hands of many distinguished families; and that reminds one of what is said in the Eastern tale: “Call it not a palace but a caravanserai.” It belonged to the Abbot of St. Albans; to Neville, Archbishop of York; to Henry VII.; to De Vere, Earl of Oxford; to Cardinal Wolsey; to Lucy, Countess of Bedford; to Sir John Franklin; to the Earl of Ossory, who sold it to the Duke of Monmouth, whose Duchess sold it to Mr. Styles, of South Sea Bubble notoriety, to be afterwards purchased by Lord Anson. After changing owners again and again, it was secured by the Marquis of Westminster for his son. Lord Ebury informed me it had never remained in the same family more than two generations. There runs a curious story of the Lady of the Earl of Monmouth, who possessed the estate in the seventeenth century,—that her ladyship protested against the intention of James I., to put his son Prince Charles “into iron boots, to strengthen his joints and sinews”; for he seemed to have been physically as a boy what he was, in some respects, morally as a man—very weak-kneed.
In the course of my recollections, I have had much to say of foreign tours, and also of journeys in different parts of England for various religious purposes; but, in drawing my personal narrative to a close, I am constrained to add a few lines, respecting visits to friends in my own county, where I have enjoyed welcome rests amidst ministerial toils.
One spot, long years ago, where I was wont to seek recreation was Letheringsett Hall, near Holt, in my native county, Norfolk. There still lives Mr. Cozens-Hardy, whom I knew as a boy, about five years old, in days when we worshipped in Calvert Street Chapel, Norwich. He married a lady whom I recollect as a girl, and who was long the light of his dwelling, well known to numerous guests. They hospitably entertained me in many of my summer holidays, and drove me round the neighbourhood called “The Garden of Norfolk.” Respecting his beloved wife, let me quote words which I wrote for a short family memorial of her: “My last two or three visits found her weak and frail, but yet a good deal of her old buoyancy would come back as we sat chatting round the fire. She seemed to have a quiet faith in the blessed Gospel, but with some shadows of doubt and fear respecting herself. No bold, self-asserting professions, as is the case with some, but a genuine sympathy in reference to the fundamental truths of the Gospel, which form the resting-place of all true believers. She seemed to know more of the Valley of Humiliation than of the Land of Beulah; not often climbing the Delectable Mountains, but by no means a prisoner in Doubting Castle.” Her good husband has for many years been the main supporter of the Methodist Society in Holt, and his son, the eminent Q.C., has been for many years a member of the Congregational Church at Kensington. The large-hearted Mr. Colman, M.P. for Norwich, married Mr. Cozens-Hardy’s eldest daughter, and in their hospitable homes at Carrow and Corton I have spent many a happy day.
I may add here that amongst delightful sojourns in English homes, I gratefully reckon Stanley Park, the residence of Sir Samuel Marling; a marine villa at Dawlish, belonging to Sir Thomas Lea, Bart., also his home at Kidderminster; the beautiful Quinta on the Welsh border, belonging to Colonel Barnes; and the marine residence of Miss Cheetham, one of my interesting school-girls at Kensington.
During the later portion of my residence in Kensington, there was a considerable increase of Roman Catholics residing in the neighbourhood. When I first went to it, a small place of worship sufficed to meet their wants, but before I left, a large church was built near the Vicarage, and another in the high road, partly hidden by buildings in front. After the formation of a Westminster Archiepiscopal see, the last-named edifice became a pro-cathedral, where Cardinal Manning sometimes officiated. As I did not hear of numerous conversions, in the neighbourhood, to the Romish faith, I was curious to know whence the increase arose, and one day I had a long conversation on the subject with Monsignor Capel. He informed me that it was owing largely to an increase in the number of priests who had come to reside in the place, and who attracted many retired people who were desirous of opportunities for confession and spiritual advice.
Hence, I gathered that the increase of Catholics in the neighbourhood did not arise from local conversions; this explained what had been a matter of wonder. The Monsignor was very sociable and communicative, and gave much information about Romanism, its usages and dignitaries. He had a great deal to say about the political relations of distinguished Catholics at that time. How far all his reports were to be trusted I cannot say.