firmer grasp of the art of right living. In an age of effusion to be reserved, and in days of universal professions of sympathy to show a saturnine front, was to be an original. There was nobody in whose company one felt so much of the ineffable comfort of being quite safe against an attack of platitude. There was nobody on whom one might so surely count in the course of an hour's talk for some stroke of irony or pungent suggestion, or, at the worst, some significant, admonitory, and almost luminous manifestation of the great ars tacendi. In spite of his copious and ordered knowledge, Pattison could hardly be said to have an affluent mind. He did not impart intellectual direction like Mill, nor morally impress himself like George Eliot. Even in pithy humour he was inferior to Bagehot, who was certainly one of the most remarkable of the secondary figures of our generation. But he made everyone aware of contact with the reality of a living intelligence. It was evident that he had no designs upon you. He was not thinking of shaking a conviction, nor even of surprising admiration.-MORLEY, JOHN, 1885, On Pattison's Memoirs, Macmillan's Magazine, vol. 51, p. 446.

If we attempt to judge the life of Mark Pattison from an ideal standpoint, we must pronounce it a failure-a magnificent failure perhaps, but still a failure. This it was because he not only did not succeed in fully realising the aim he put before himself, but also because he showed in his own character and career the inadequacy of that aim. His conceptions of an elevated philosophic education, of the functions of a University, of the obligations and attractions of the scholar's life, will always be found inspiring by those who are fit to appreciate them; but he only partially succeeded in illustrating by his example what he had illuminated by his learning; and the impression which his "Memoirs" give us of a life of misery, the intensity of which is only brought into relief by the brilliancy of his attainments, shows us the inadequacy as a guide to life of purely intellectual aspirations.-NETTLESHIP, HENRY, 1889, Mark Pattison, Church Quarterly Review, vol. 28, p. 371.

Pattison was by no means a recluse. For some years after his marriage in 1861 his house was a centre of all that was best in Oxford society. Under a singularly stiff and

freezing manner to strangers and to those whom he disliked, he concealed a most kindly nature, full of geniality and sympathy, and a great love of congenial, and especially of female, society. But it was in his intercourse with his pupils, and generally with those younger than himself, that he was seen to most advantage. His conversation was marked by a delicate irony. His words were few and deliberate, but pregnant with meaning, and above all stimulating, and their effect was heightened by perhaps too frequent and, especially to undergraduates, somewhat embarrassing flashes of silence. His aim was always to draw out by the Socratic method what was best in the mind of the person he conversed with, and he seemed to be seeking information and suggestions for his own use. To the last he was open to new personal impressions, was most grateful for information on subjects which were of interest to him, and was always full of generous admiration for good work, or even for work which, if not really good, was painstaking or marked by promise.-CHRISTIE, RICHARD COPLEY, 1895, Dictionary of National Biography, vol. XLIV, p. 62.

There is no history of mental growth and struggles which is to me more touching and interesting, though it is impossible not to feel that the results were very painful.LAKE, WILLIAM CHARLES, 1897-1901, Memorials, ed. his Widow, p. 58.

From Jowett to Mark Pattison is a transition popular but unphilosophic: to bracket the two men, as is often done, shows superficial knowledge of both. Both, no doubt, were clergymen, both missed disappointingly and afterwards exultingly obtained the Headship of their Colleges, both wrote in "Essays and Reviews." Behind these accidents are life equipment, experiences, characters, temperaments, standing in phenomenal contrast. Pattison's mind was the more comprehensive, instructed, idealistic, its evolution as intermittent and self-torturing as Jowett's was continuous and tranquil. Pattison's life, in its abrupt precipitations and untoward straits, resembled the mountain brook of Wordsworth's solitary; Jowett's floated even, strong, and full, from the winning of the Balliol scholarship by the little white-haired lad with shrill voice and cherub face, until the Sunday afternoon at Headley Park, when the old man, shrill, white-haired and

It may suit Mr. Pattison's ["Essays and Reviews"] purpose, and fill out his trial of antitheses, to sneer at the philosophy of this period as "without insight." But it shows bad taste and defective knowledge to include in this sneer such men as Butler, the father of modern ethical science, not only in England, but for all Europe; Berkeley, the pure and refined spiritualist, and one of the most elegant writers and original philosophical thinkers that England has produced; Samuel Clarke, a co-worker with Newton, the well-matched opponent of Leibnitz, and one of the greatest masters of abstract metaphysical reasoning that the world has ever seen; and even Warburton, who, with all his defects of temper, has been well called "the last of our really great divines."-BOWEN, FRANCIS, 1861, Essays and Reviews, Gleanings from a Literary Life, p. 452.

As an author Pattison has not made the impression which his great powers and unusual attainments might have been expected to produce. He had, indeed, within him so many impediments to large and successful authorship that the wonder is not that he wrote so little as that he wrote as much as he did. First of all he was a victim of curiosity, of his wide and sleepless interests in all manner of subjects about which he cared and read simply for themselves, without any after thought of working up his reading into a salable literary form. With a tithe of his acquisitions an expert young penman would have produced shelves of smooth readable volumes, and gained a reputation in letters, as reputations now go. He had none of the business author about him, who has one eye for his subject, and the other-the wider open of the two-on the market values of his wares in publishers' offices. He valued knowledge too highly to make a trade of it, even if paid only in fame. In the next place he was fastidious to a fault; his taste was superior to his power of production. He was too severe a critic of his own writings. Then, his scrupulous conscientiousness was extreme, and he never felt sufficiently prepared for literary work. . . . And yet with all these drawbacks he has produced valu

able works which the world would be unwise to neglect. . . . They all bear on the one theme on which his whole heart was setthe praise and commendation of learning. No one need fear that in reading the slightest thing of Pattison's he will waste his time. He never wrote because he had to say something, but always because he had something to say.-MORISON, JAMES COTTER, 1884, Mark Pattison, Macmillan's Magazine, vol. 50, pp. 406, 407.

He was full of the passion for knowledge; he was very learned, very acute in his judgment on what his learning brought before him, very versatile, very shrewd, very subtle; too full of the truth of his subject to care about seeming to be original; but, especially in his poetical criticisms, often full of that best kind of originality which consists in seeing and pointing out novelty in what is most familiar and trite. But, not merely as a practical but as a speculative writer, he was apt to be too much under the empire and pressure of the one idea which at that moment occupied and interested his mind. He could not resist it; it came to him with exclusive and overmastering force; he did not care to attend to what limited it or conflicted with it. . . . Though every competent reader must do justice to Pattison's distinction as a man of letters, as a writer of English prose, and as a critic of what is noble and excellent and what is base and poor in literature, there is a curious want of completeness, a frequent crudity and hardness, a want, which is sometimes a surprising want, of good sense and good taste, which form unwelcome blemishes in his work, and just put it down below the line of first-rate excellence which it ought to occupy.-CHURCH, RICHARD WILLIAM, 1884, Mark Pattison, Occasional Papers, vol. II, pp. 354, 355.

Mark Pattison's highest praise is, perhaps, that he was able, so long ago, to look at such things as we see them now. He kept an open mind, and so he looked towards the future, and was able to take in new ideas, to be touched by the Zeit-geist. . . Workers like Mark Pattison are rare; few men have the strength and clearness to make for the ends he was striving for-for self-culture, for perfection, for such truth as he could attain. And still fewer have the restraint and unselfishness to be satisfied with wisdom as its own exceeding great reward. Among these rare and gifted beings,

Mark Pattison, in spite of all that can be said, must take his place; by doing so he becomes in some sense a benefactor to his kind. The lesson he teaches those who are willing to learn it is expressed in those words of his with which this essay began: "The highest life is the art to live." That he solved the problem of living we need not think; but at least he set a noble example to those who wish to solve it. He did his best.-GALTON, ARTHUR, 1885, Urbana Scripta, pp. 201, 208.

As you read his "Memoirs," you hardly know whether he meant to give a picture of himself or a picture of the Oxford he had known. The two are blended together, and they ought not to be separated. To undertand Pattison you must take account of the university environment in which he moved, and there is no better way in entering Oxford as it was, or of understanding how it has become what it is, than to try to appreciate the character of one of the most noteworthy among its teachers. The most salient peculiarity in the character painted with such painful care by Pattison himself, is the astonishing combination of a certain intellectual strength and greatness with a quality which one cannot call by any other name than weakness. For the proper understanding of the "Memoirs, the primary requisite is to appreciate the great and even noble side of their author's character. There is the more reason for insisting upon this because Pattison has not really done himself justice.-DICEY, A. V., 1885, Pattison's Memoirs, The Nation, vol. 41, p. 176.

Whatever were the effects of Pattison's arguments, ["Sermons"] whether put aside as fatal snares or followed out to extravagant conclusions, most young men must have caught from them something of his moral force and mental clearness. His lofty tone was indeed intellectual, but singularly in sympathy with, and adaptable to, spiritual aspirations; in that unity of the ascetic and philosophical life on which he

always insisted. He disarmed clerical criticism by his loyal advocacy of our English Church, "a Church which has never yet broken with reasons or proscribed education"-surely the noblest praise a son of hers has ever offered her-and by the echoes which it often awakened of the golden age of English homiletics. This not only by his dignified, weighty, and truly theological handling, but by the unconscious use of quaint but perfectly exact phrases.-PURCELL, E., 1885, Sermons by Mark Pattison, The Academy, vol. 8, p. 283.

Mark Pattison was too fastidious a scholar, and too indifferent to the charms. of notoriety, to produce much, but what he did is the best of its kind. His life of Milton in the admirable series entitled "English Men of Letters" is certainly second to none. His edition of some of Pope's poems in the Clarendon Press Series are models of annotation. His original inquiry into the causes of the rise and extinction of Deism in the eighteenth century, published in the famous volume of "Essays and Reviews, has been accepted as a substantial contribution to religious history.-ANDERSON, MELVILLE B., 1885, Mark Pattison, The Dial, vol. 6, p. 72.

For his true portrait we must look into his "Essays" and his "Life of Casaubon." His own personality is evident in whatever. he writes.-CHRISTIE, RICHARD COPLEY, 1895, Dictionary of National Biography, vol. XLIV, p. 63.

Had a less amiable character than Stanley's, but a greater intellect and far nicer, profounder, and wider scholarship, though he actually did very little. . . . It would be entirely unjust to regard him as merely a man who was "going to do something.' His actual work though not large is admirable, and his style is the perfection of academic correctness, not destitute of either vigour or grace.-SAINTSBURY GEORGE, 1896, A History of Nineteenth Century Literature, pp. 373, 374.

PERSONAL

He was the best runner and jumper I ever knew. . . . Whenever I think of Calverley I think of fun and good-fellowship; of the "wild joys of living; the leaping from rock up to rock; the cool silver shock of the plunge in the pool's living water;" of health and youth and strength. Alas, alas!-PAYN, JAMES, 1884, Some Literary Recollections, pp. 138, 139.

Most of Blayds' Harrow contemporaries who went to Cambridge entered at Trinity, and there was in those days but little communications between Trinity and Christ's. At Christ's he was cock of the roost, and a true Bohemian, he liked to take his ease at his inn, and had a horror of general society. Only some admirable skit like his Tripos verses, some practical joke worthy of Theodore Hook, or some brilliant success like the Craven Scholarship, kept his name alive with Harrow men.-TOLLEMACHE, LIONEL A., 1884, C. S. Calverley, Character Sketches, p. 308.

A bright, sunny boyhood, fearless and careless; a youth full of brilliant promise, and studded with intellectual triumphs; a manhood marked by no striking incidents, no ambitious struggles, no alternations of failure and success-darkened, alas! in later years, and brought to an untimely close by the ravages of a fatal and insidious malady --such are, in brief, the outlines of a career which in itself would seem to possess but scanty claims upon the attention of the general observer. But if the incidents of Calverley's life were thus trite even to commonplace, yet his own bearing amongst them, and the physical and intellectual personality which marked each successive stage, would be found, if accurately and adequately portrayed, to present a striking and an interesting picture. From childhood up there never was a time when he failed to impress in some enduring manner those amongst whom he moved.—SENDALL, WALTER J., 1884, Charles Stuart Calverley, Fortnightly Review, vol. 35, p. 736.

On the testimony of those who knew him

best, Calverley's published writings convey only a very imperfect idea of his powers. At Oxford and at Cambridge he was justly regarded as a prodigy of versatility and intellectual brilliance. He excelled in scholarship and athletics; his wit, his sunny humour, his musical talents, his gifts as a conversationalist, a caricaturist and a comic rhymer, the ease with which he carried off University honours as if in play made him the idol and delight of his fellows. At Cambridge his jests went the round of the University. The Latin poem with which he won the Chancellor's Prize at Oxford is said to have been composed so rapidly that it might almost be termed an improvisation. His appearance in his college days is thus described by Mr. Sendall; "Short of stature, with a powerful head of the Greek type, covered thickly with crisp curling masses of dark hair, and closely set upon a frame whose supple joints and well-built proportions betokened both speed and endurance-he presented a picture of health, strength, and activity." He was a fascinating companion from his sparkling gaiety, his modesty and kindness. He was the most loyal and generous of friends; he was a favourite everywhere;-when he visited Cumberland he won the hearts of the dalesmen as readily as he had captivated the Cambridge undergraduates. But he seems to have had no ambition.-WHYTE, WALTER, 1894, The Poets and the Poetry of the Century, Humour, Society, Parody, and Occasional Verse, ed. Miles, p. 434.

Charles Stuart Calverley is by common consent the king of metrical parodists. All who went before merely adumbrated him and led up to him; all who have come since are descended from him and reflect him. Of course he was infinitely more than a mere imitator of rhymes and rhythms. He was a true poet; he was one of the most graceful scholars that Cambridge ever produced; and all his exuberant fun was based on a broad and strong foundation of Greek, Latin, and English literature.-RUSSELL, G. W. E., 1898, Collections and Recollections.

Among these men-I mean of my own time-incomparably the most brilliant, the finest scholar, the most remarkable man from every point of view, was Calverley. He was the hero of a hundred tales; all the audacious things, all the witty things, all the clever things, were fathered upon him. It is forty years since his time, and no doubt the same audacities, repartees, and things of unexpectedness which never die have been fathered upon others, his successors in brilliant talk and scholarship. But consider, to a lad like myself, the delight of knowing a man who was not only the finest scholar of his year-writing Latin verses which even to eyes like mine were charming-but a man who could play and sing with a grace and sweetness quite divine as it seemed to me; who could make parodies the most ridiculous and burlesques the most absurd; who kept a kind of open-house for his intimates, with abundance of port and claret-he was the only man in college who kept claret; whose English verses were as delightful as his Latin; who was always sympathetic, always helpful, always considerate.-BESANT, SIR WALTER, 1902, Autobiography, p. 86.

GENERAL

Calverley and Dobson are the best of the new farceurs. "Fly-Leaves," by the former, contains several burlesques and seriocomic translations that are excellent in their way, with most agreeable qualities of fancy and thought.-STEDMAN, EDMUND CLARENCE, 1875-87, Victorian Poets, p. 273.

Assuming that all competent judges are agreed as to the the superlative goodness of his classical compositions and translations, I will only observe in this place, that in all such work his professed aim and object were faithfully to represent, not the sense merely of his author, but also the form and expression. It is not sufficient, in his view, that the thoughts and ideas of the original should be reproduced, in language of itself however appropriate and idiomatic, by the copy; this is indeed indispensable, but this is not enough; there must in addition to a wholly faithful sense-rendering, be also to some extent a word-rendering, and even if possible a form-rendering. . . . Calverley's own measure of success in translating upon his own method is, I venture to think, almost if not quite unrivalled, and constitutes the distinctive mark of his performances in this depart

ment. . . His own clearness and, so to speak, point-blank directness of mental vision, rendered him especially impatient of all the crooked and nebulous antics and vagaries of thought or speech in which writers of the modern transcendental school are pleased to indulge; and his parodies of this class must be regarded as a genuine and out-spoken expression of resentment that so much genius should seem to take so much pains to be unintelligible.SENDALL, WALTER, J., 1885, ed. The Literary Remains of Charles Stuart Calverley, Memoir, pp. 80, 83, 89.

Calverley wrote a small amount of verse that, merely as verse, is absolutely faultless. To compare great things with little, you might as well try to alter a line of Virgil's as one of Calverley's. Forget a single epithet and substitute another, and the result is certain disaster. He has the perfection of the phrase,-and there it ends. I cannot remember a single line of Calverley's that contains a spark of human feeling. -QUILLER-COUCH, A. T., 1891, Adventures in Criticism, p. 156.

The monstrously overrated and preposterously overpraised C. S. Calverley: a jester, graduate or undergraduate, may be fit enough to hop, skip and tumble before university audiences, without capacity to claim an enduring or even a passing station among even the humblest of English humourists.-SWINBURNE, ALGERNON CHARLES, 1891, Social Verse, The Forum, vol. 12, p. 182. Oh, when the grey courts of Christ's College glowed

With all the rapture of thy frequent lay, When printers' devils chuckled as they strode, And blithe compositors grew loudly gay: Did Granta realise that here abode,

Here in the home of Milton, Wordsworth, Gray,

A poet not unfit to cope with any

That ever wore the bays or turned a penny? The wit of smooth delicious Matthew Prior, The rhythmic grace which Hookham Frere displayed,

The summer lightning wreathing Byron's lyre,
The neat inevitable turns of Praed,
Rhymes to which Hudibras could scarce aspire,
Such metric pranks as Gilbert oft has played,
All these good gifts and others far sublimer
Are found in thee, beloved Cambridge
rhymer.

STEPHEN, JAMES KENNETH, 1891, To C. S. C., Lapsus Calami and Other Verses, p. 1.

He was, like Yorick, "a fellow of infinite jest, a most excellent fancy," gifted