A wide-awake, a casque, a hat, How shall I name the changeful thing? It bodies some imagining The weight of years is on its brim, Not Rubens had a grander sweep Of beaver swelling broadly down: To bear the honours of a crown: E'en as I write I see it still Circling the thoughtful artist's brow It stiffens out and seems to say "I lead you follow and obey." HERNE BAY, : not BELLAGIO, Sept. 1865. B. F. W. To the Rev. B. F. Westcott, on an unpublished paper by the latter on La Salette1. WELLINGTON College. Oct. 30th, 1865. MY DEAR WESTCOTT, I really don't think any one can call Mariolatrous you say. The "omitted doctrine" alone can be twisted. But why not make this clearer, and say what I suppose those what 1 La Salette, in the district of Grenoble, became a place of pilgrimage in 1846. who comprehend it will take you to mean, the need of seeing further and grasping more personally the Person of Jesus? or, if you mean more, why not still point out the path in which it is to be found? People, I think, can quote only what you don't say if they wish to Romanize you. Wouldn't it be also interesting as an illustration of what you say as to a "New Religion," and explanatory of your views too, to mention the horrible inscription we saw, "Ab irâ Dei Libera nos'"? Anyhow I hope the paper won't disappear. You of course don't want to be thought of as leaning towards the worship of Mary, because you are not doing so. Of course wiser heads than mine may state whether that is the aspect of what you have written-but if so can't you colour it more after your idea? How I envy you the power of gathering, inventing, and developing ideas in the midst of school work. More and more ideas cease with me, and the best refreshment is the mere revival of boyhood in the classics. And as regards progress, I am "toiling through immeasurable sands." Affectionately yours ever, E. W. BENSON. To Professor Lightfoot. MY DEAR LIGHTFOOT, WELLINGTON College. Epiphany, 1866. (In new house at Wellington.) Have you seen Maurice's book on Conflict of Good and Evil? He is more nebulous than ever. It is an exact paraphrase of Jowett's formulation of him-"All are right:-I most right. All are wrong:-I most wrong.” Ever your affectionate friend, E. W. B. 1 On a statue of the Virgin that B. F. W. and E. W. B. had seen in Dauphiné. To the Rev. C. B. Hutchinson, on the death of his child. MY DEAR HUTCHINSON, WELLINGTON COLLEGE. It was a great sorrow to us to hear of your sorrow. To have a child in Heaven is a thought which I doubt not, when well and truly grasped, is an unearthly blessing, but not to have the same child on earth cannot but be at first a sad, sore wound. Nevertheless the verity of the blessing is in nothing more certain than in that it has the character of all His Holinesses in not being at all comprehended at first. It must, I fear, be weeks before even you, who are not given to look on this earth as your own, can at all bring home to yourselves in any work-a-day form, the truth that a part of you is already above. But surely it is so-half your heart. I had a fancy the other day that there was some deeper cause for a childish ailment in Martin than there was really, and for a whole day I seemed to be walking in a dream—and could not conceive what life would be like without him. My dear friend, I can feel how acute the pain must be. But I have prayed, and will pray earnestly that he may take his due and holy place in your circle and not out of it, and that you may still count yourself the father of the three, though one is in higher place than yourself. Puerum poposcit carnifex, mater dedit, My guardian saint and still—and still my son." We both unite in best love and most heartfelt sympathy for you both. Believe me ever, Your most sincere and affectionate friend, E. W. BENSON. 1 Prudentius, Peristephanon X. Passio Romani Martyris 1. 823. CHAPTER VII. WELLINGTON COLLEGE. Slight not the smallest loss, whether it be GEO. HERBERT. IN 1865 the numbers of the College having largely increased, and all available space being required, a new Master's Lodge was built; the planning of this was a great pleasure to my father; he spared a sandy bank as a playground for his children; he contrived the house so that the rooms all opened on a large central hall, with a gallery round it leading to the bedrooms. The fittings were of pitch pine, then held to be a beautiful wood, the entrances and hall were distempered with a light lilac wash, supposed to be bright and cheerful, but inexpressibly dreary and inharmonious. The study was fitted with a door opening into the porch, so that masters and boys had free access to my father's study without passing through the house. He laid out and planted the grounds with great care; but it was all very wild: the garden melted into the heath, and the rabbits used to gambol on the lawn in the twilight; on the hot summer evenings my father and mother used to dine in the garden under the shade of a grove of birches; the borders were planted with old-fashioned flowers such as Hollyhocks and Sweet Williams. My mother writes: I shall try and put down without much attempt at arrangement some little points of the life at Wellington College, which would not be known to the world at large. One great feature, especially during the earlier years, was the daily walks. Every day regularly after lunch we used to start off and ramble over the country for at least two hours. He had a habit of starting off at the most tremendous pace till he had worked off the fret of the morning's work, and then gradually subsided into an ordinary pace. In the summer he often took a book, and we used to sit down at rewarding places, and he would read to me. We read all the Idylls of the King this way the year they came out. He talked freely of everything, but used to fall sometimes into silence, during which one could feel how life and thought were throbbing within him. I never knew anyone whose silence was more pregnant. Whether it was the silence of thought, or musing, or displeasureor even boredom-there was a burning vitality about it all which gave those nearest him a sense of living hard also. It was sometimes the most curious sensation. I have known what it was to feel physically breathless from the speed at which his mind was working, without a word being spoken. One of his favourite employments out walking was to translate hymns, discussing it all freely, rejecting expression after expression till he had found the very finest shade of meaning he wanted. He took great delight in this, but never allowed the smallest slovenliness in word or metre. Hymn He wrote hymns also in this way. His Rogation "O Throned, O Crowned with all renown occupied many a walk in the fir wood at Wellington. " He was very fond of all the details of arrangement inside the house. The house we lived in for the last seven years at Wellington College was planned by him with the greatest care. He spent a good year in planning and altering and revising. Once in the house, with his study in order for work, he devoted himself to the nursery. For years he had saved all kinds of ordinary prints and pictures for this purpose, and he would give a spare few minutes or sometimes a wet afternoon to pasting these pictures on the walls. He would begin with various centres, and radiate 16 B. I. |