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to be required. The pilaster supports The Duke of Buccleuch is erecting in
are of cast iron, on which are fixed the Dalkeith Park a beautiful new church in genious construction, combining great
frame roof, of wrought iron, of an inconnexion with the Scottish Episcopal strength with simplicity of arrangement; Church, which is now pearly finished,
The whole is covered with corrugated and will form a great ornament to the town of Dalkeith. The erection of a
iron, and the ceiling formed in panelled church in this locality cannot fail to be of compartments, covered with felt, to act
as a non-conductor of heat. The body of great benefit to the inhabitants, there
the church is sixty-five feet by forty ; the being no place of worship in communion
chancel, twenty-four by twelve; a robingwith the Episcopalian body nearer than
room and vestry are attached. The Musselburgh, a distance of four miles.
windows are glazed with plate glass, one
eighth of an inch in thickness; the two FOREIGN AND COLONIAL.
chancel windows and four others are of IRON CHURCH FOR JAMAICA. A
stained glass. The cost of this iron church has been sent out to Jamaica as
church is 1000% a specimen, as many of the kind are likely
NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.
Several publications have been received, which should have been noticed and acknowledged in this Number, but that unavoidable circumstances have compelled their postponement.
The Editor has received a letter signed “H. Lowe," and dated from the “ Breidden Dec. 26th," in which the writer says
“ I have been distinctly assured, by a friend of Mr. Newman's, who projected contributions to the Lives, which he has since abandoned, that Mr. Newman did not continue editor after the appearance of the second (or third?) number. I hear, too, that such an announcement was made at the time on a conspicuous part of the work. This latter fact I am unable to authenticate, but feel sure the British Magazine will do justice to Mr. Newman's character, should it prove true.”
The writer could scarcely expect a letter written at such a period of the month to be received in time for insertion. But, indeed, it is sufficient to refer him to what has been appended to the letter of " A. H.,” in this number. The Editor is sincerely desirous to “do justice to Mr. Newman's character,” and will be perfectly ready to publish any evidence of his haivng ceased to edit so obnoxious a series of works. But then such evidence should really be something better than the assertion of an unnamed person, professing to be a friend of Mr. Newman, and a hearsay that there was, at some time or other, an“ announcement,” wbich nobody whom the Editor can find is better able to “authenticate" than his correspondent.
FEBRUARY 1, 1845.
In addition to the mischievons effects already noticed, as likely to result from the extraordinary manner in which Mr. Newman and his friends are dealing with the history of the English church, there is one which can hardly fail to have struck most readers, and which, to the writer's knowledge, several excellent persons have already felt and deplored. It is this—that, by the colouring which their own fanaticism has given to their Lives of the English Saints, these authors have associated with ridiculous and grotesque ideas, names which for ages had been regarded with affection and respect. Even by those who were wholly unacquainted with the particular circumstances of the history of the subjects of this series of biography, there was a sort of traditional veneration, a vague and undefined impression that these were good and holy men, who, in their generation, amidst more or less of error and credulity, loved God and served their fellow-creatures. And, with the majority, this feeling has outlived the memory of everything about them but their naines, and weathered out the storms of civil and religious revolutions. But now even this association of affection with those ancient servants of God is likely soon to be destroyed; and, what with the legends these volumes contain of pharisaical devotions, fanatical austerities, and grotesque miracles, before these writers have finished their pernicious labours, many a one whom we and our fathers have thought of only as wise and holy men, will come to be considered little better than hypocrites and fanatics—in fact, a species of spiritual mountebanks, whose piety seemed as if contrived for the purpose of making religion ridiculous. And, when to this are added the other ill effects of these works, their erroneous notions regarding celibacy, marriage, monkery, and expiatory penance—and their constant uniform design to advance the interests of the see of Rome, it is greatly to be feared, that, by the time they have done, every remnant of what deserves to be called catholic feeling, will be in a fair way of being banished from the country.
• Numbers I., II., and III. have been reprinted as tracts for distribution. VOL. XXVII.- February, 1845.
How many, for example, are there, who, if they were asked—who St. Wulstan was, or where he lived, could tell very little, if anything, about him ; yet have a traditional feeling of respect for his memory, as one who served God and was a benefactor to his generation. And those who know a little more have probably been in the habit of clinging to the hope that he was a wiser man than his historians. But are such feelings likely to survive the stories which disfigure his memory in this new version of his life? Take the following specimens :
“ He was not above confessing that a savoury roast goose, which was preparing for his dinner, had once so taken up his thoughts, that he could not attend to the service he was performing, and that he had punished himself for it
, and given up the use of meat in consequence.”—p. 13.
Such a story would give one the idea as if St. Wulstan was rather fond of eating and so, all through these works, the accounts they give of austerity and self-denial, convey, in the most painful manner, the notion that those whom they hold up as models of these virtues, were naturally persons of gross appetites and peculiarly depraved inclinations. And then, observe the conclusion of the sentence. If a Christian clergy man was really not above the weakness of having his thoughts so taken
a savoury roast goose,” that “he could not attend to the service he was performing," why should he speak of his infirmity ? Or, if this were allowable, why should he inform people, “ that he had punished himself for it, and given up the use of meat in consequence?" True humility would feel little inclination to speak of the infirmitystill less of the methods taken to correct it. And, very possibly, if Wulstan had ever put himself under such a restraint as to give up “the use of meat in consequence,” he would have taken care to conceal his abstinence from the eyes of men ; at least, one would rather hope so. But the notion these authors entertain of mortification is essentially pharisaical. Everything is to be done for effect-impression—and display—“to be seen of men.” And so it unavoidably happens that, in describing the saints such as they think saints ought to be, they copy the pattern and ideal of sanctity in their own minds, and so the reputation of the saint himself is injured by the follies of his biographer.
In the present instance, it would have been as well if this biographer had given bis authority for his statements, that the roast goose had taken up his (Wulstan's) thoughts, that he could not attend to the service he was performing"—and also that “he was not above confessing" both his infirmity and the punishment he inflicted on himself in consequence. William of Malmesbury gives no sanction for either statement; and, with regard to Wulstan's talking of the matter, the historian would lead one to suppose he never did, since he expressly says, not only that he made an excuse at the time for not stopping to ta the goose—but that he used to affirm that he had no desire, or felt no want, of such meats-in order, as it would seem, to set his guests and companions at ease, who might observe bis customary abstemiousness. Perhaps this author has merely mistaken the historian's mean
ing, but the pharisaical character of his own system has led him to give a colour to the story most injurious to Wulstan's memory.*
Another story, taken from the account of Wulstan's devotional habits, will serve further to illustrate this remark. After he became a bishop, it is said that he used to travel about “on horseback with his retinue of clerks and monks,” and, “ as they rode along, he repeated the Psalter, the Litanies, and the Office for the Dead,” and compelled them to make the responses-and “his monks often thought him very tiresome”-especially as "he used often to put them out, by his habit of repeating over and over again the prayer verses,' 'to the weariness of his fellow-chanters.' The narrative proceeds thus
“ His biographer tells a story which shews the trials to which he used to expose his cleries' patience, and the way in which they sometimes revenged themselves. It is characteristic of both parties.
A curious notion of sanctity and an age of faith this author would wish his readers to receive! As if the saints were persons who practised devotion in order to annoy and worry their neighbours and dependents.
" He always went to church to chant matins,' says his biographer, “however far off it might be; whether it was snowing or raining, through muddy roads or fog, to church he must go; he cared for nothing, so that he got there: and truly he might say to Almighty God, ' Lord, I have loved the habitation of thy house.' Once, when he was staying at Marlow, on his way to court, at Christmas tide, according to his wont, he told his attendants that he was going early to the church. The church was a long way off; the deep mire of the road might have deterred a walker, even by daylight, and there was, besides, a sleety drizzle falling. His clerics mentioned these inconveniences, but he was determined; he would go, even if no one went with him, only would they (why they? " tantum monstraretur sibi via,” is all Malmesbury says) show him the way. The clerics were obliged to yield, and concealed their annoyance."-pp. 19, 20.
For it seems we are to believe that, in reality, he was not content to go alone. He said indeed “ he would go, even if no one went with him;" but it was very sufficiently understood by his clerics that they were expected to go along with him; at least this is the impression this author would convey.
..." die certa ad quoddam placitum exire deberet, necessitas rei omni excusationi repudium indixerat. Visum est tamen ut ante missam cantatam inediæ consuleret. Acceleratur a clientibus, ne impransus abiret dominus, apponitur auca igni. Astitit altari presbyter, et devotione, qua solet agit, cum inter secreta Missæ, quia erat Ecclesia domni vicina, nidor adustæ carnis nares ejus opplevit. Odor mentem advocavit, ut et voluptatis illecebra caperetur, continuoque reducto animo culpam agnoscens, luctabatur valide ut cogitationem alias averteret : sed cum id frustra esset, iratus sibi juramentum ad sacramenta, quæ tangebat, fecit, nullo se amplius pacto id genus cibi comesturum. Cantata ergo Missa cibo vacuus ad negotium discessit, quod jam tardior hora urgeret causatus. Occasio illa effecit, ut arduum penitus sequutus exemplum, omni in perpetuum carne et etiam unctiori cibo temperaret; non tamen comedentes rigido suspendens supercilio, nullo se affirmabat eorum ciborum teneri desiderio, si qua tamen esset caro delectabilis, opinari se, quod alaudæ majorem vescentibus darent voluptatem." Malmes. De Gest. Pont. IV. Surely it is scarcely possible, that this English biographer mistook the meaning of “culpam agnoscens;" and yet there are no other words in the story which could be tortured into a foundation for bis statement, that Wulstan was not above confessing, &c. It is quite clear, from the story, that Wulstan did no such thing, but on the contrary, took some trouble to conceal both his momentary infirmity, and the oath he had taken to avenge it.
" But one of them, named Frewen, a hot-tempered fellow, to make matters worse, took hold of the bishop's hand and guided him where the swamp was deepest and the road roughest. The bisliop sank up to his knees in the mud, and lost one of his shoes; but he said nothing, for the object of the clerics had been to make the bishop give up his resolution."-Ibid.
Whether such a representation of a bishop and his clergy going to matins, in such a temper, is likely to make the restoration of daily service seem more desirable, may be doubted. But this is an interruption. And we have left one, at least, of the party up to his knees in the mud.
“ The day was far advanced when he returned to his lodgings, his limbs half dead with the cold, and not till then did he mention his own suffering, and the cleric's offence. Yet he MERELY ordered them to go and look for the shoe.” Which shoe he had lost one knows not how far off, and that, too, in mud so deep, that he had sunk up to his knees in it. He merely ordered them to go and look for the shoe; a pleasant conclusion, truly, to their morning's devotions! and no less pleasant a mode of correcting the lukewarm piety of a company of clergymen! How fond they must have been of each other : to say nothing of Mr. Frewen, who seems the very prototype of the “artful dodger ?"
“ Yet he merely ordered them to go and look for the shoe ; he spoke no word of reproach to the offender, but put a cheerful face on the matter, and carried off the insult with a cheerful countenance. For the bishop was a man of great patience ; nothing put him out of temper whether annoyance or impertinence; for people there were, who often made game of him, even to his face.”
Now, supposing this to be a faithful exhibition of the piety and temper of Wulstan, and of the mode in which he governed his clergy and they treated him, may it not be fairly questioned whether any good end can be answered by putting the temper and manners of the clergy of any age before the public in so burlesque a character. It is easy to talk of Wulstan's having a good temper, but such a person as is here described by his present biographer, few would like to associate with—fewer still (of the clergy at least) would covet for their bishop. There is an odd and eccentric air of spitefulness given to his character by this author. What kind-hearted person, at the end of such an uncomfortable walk, would think of revenging a personal affront in such a manner? What Christian bishop would chastise an act, which he knew originated in the dislike of his clergy to attend the services of the church-services, by the way, which he seems (according to this description) to have studied to make as irksome and fatiguing to them as possible; by sending them back-ordering them back--for, according to this author, he used his episcopal authority for the purpose of revenging a childish impertinence and a personal indignity-ordering them back, in the cold and rain of an evening at Christmas, to look for his shoe in mud knee deep. It seems an insult to the memory of such men, to caricature them in this preposterous manner. It is as well to remark that Malmesbury says nothing of Wulstan's ordering the clergy to look for his shoe-he rather implies that he gave them no further trouble in the matter; and at all events does not say who was sent. “ Præcepit etiam, ut quæreretur calceus; et nullo convitio in contu