Memoirs of the late Bishop Horne. (Continued from page 5, and concluded.) For the sake of those who admire Bishop Horne's works, and were not acquainted with his person, it may be proper, before I conclude, to say something of his natural life. When he first came to the University of Oxford, he was quite à boy; but being at a time of life when boys alter very fast, he soon grew up into a person so agreeable, that, at the opening of the Radcliffe Library, when all were assembled, and made their best appearance, I heard it said of him, that there was not then a handsomer young man in the Theatre. But he was not of a strong and muscular constitution; and, from the disadvantage of being very near-sighted (quite helpless without the use of a glass), he did not render himself more robust by the practice of any athletic exercise. Amusements of that sort gave him more trouble than they were worth, and he never pursued them with any alacrity. It is related of Bishop Bull, that he was not addicted to any innocent pleasure, which is often necessary to unbend the mind, and preserve the body in health and vigour. The only diversion (if it may be called a diversion) to which this great man was addicted, was the enjoyment of agreeable conversation: and the same was the favourite amusement of Dr. Horne to the end of his life. I wish every young man who is intended for a scholar, had some good or some necessary reason for not being led away by any sort of recreation. It was of service to his mind, that he was no fisherman, no shooter, no hunter, no horseman the cultivation of his understanding was, therefore, carried on with less inVOL. III

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terruption, and his improvements were ed to be in more danger than other rapid. While on horseback he seemyoung men: and he had a friend, who was so much concerned for his safety, that he sometimes rode after him, to watch over him, without letting him know of it. But so it happened, notwithstanding his vigilance, that hẹ saw him suffer one bad fall, upon a dirty road, into a deep slough, and another upon very hard ground in the middle of the summer. His horse was then upon a gallop, and the fall pitched him upon his forehead; but, by the protection of a good Provi dence, the blow only gave him a head-ach, which soon went off without any other ill effect. When he came at last to be a Bishop, the friend, who had formerly been his attendant, reminded him of these accidents, and observed upon them, " My Lord, I saw you fall twice, I have seen you rise three times :" meaning, that he had first risen to be President of Magdalen College, then to be Dean of Canterbury, and afterwards Bishop of Norwich. The year after he came to Oxford, he fell sick of the smallpox, which proved very favourable, and he was removed to a house upon the hill at Headington, for an airing; where his recovery had raised his spirits to such a pitch, that his friends could not but observe the growing vigour of his mind, and augurate that his wits were intended for some very active part upon the stage of human life, as it afterwards proved.

In the year 1758, he was appointed junior Proctor of the University; on the 27th of April, 1759, he took the degree of B. D. and on the 28th of January, 1764, that of D. D. His bealth continued tolerably good, till

the time of his proctorship: and here it ought in justice to be remembered, that he made one of the best Proctors ever known in the University of Oxford. He was strict in the exercise of his office; but his strictness was accompanied by so much mildness and goodness, that he was equally beloved and feared. His duty called upon him to visit and inspect the houses of poor and disorderly people; in one of which he took the measles, and suffered much by that distemper. The time at which this accident happened was, in one respect, rather unfortunate; for he was confined at the time when he should have resigned his office by a personal attendance in the Theatre. Dr. Thurlow, the late Bishop of Durham, being at that time Collector, delivered the Latin speech, at the close of which he spoke to this effect: "As to the late Proctor, I shall speak of him but in few words, for the truth of which I can appeal to all that are here present. If ever virtue itself was visible and dwelt upon earth, it was in the person who this day lays down his office." Which words were followed by a universal clapping. It was fortunate in one respect that he was not present; for thus it came to pass, that full justice was done to his character. On the 27th of January, 1768, on the death of Dr. Jenner, he was elected President of Magdalen College: in 1771, he was appointed Chaplain in ordinary to his Majesty; which appointment he held till he was preferred to the Deanry of Canterbury, on the 22d of September, 1781: and on the 7th of June, 1791, he was consecrated Bishop of Norwich, in Lambeth Chapel, on the translation of Dr. Bagot to the see of St. Asaph. After he became President of Magdalen College, he adhered to the interest of Mr. Jenkinson, (now Earl of Liverpool,) a little to the disturbance of his academical peace. Mr. Jenkinson had been one of his contemporaries at University College: a gentleman, who from his first appearance in the University, always promised to do something, and to be something, beyond other men of his time. It was not possible that two such young

men as he and Mr. Horne could be near neighbours without being fond of each other's company. The friendship once formed, was ever after preserved: and when Mr. Jenkinson, though well known to be of what was then called the court party, offered himself to represent the University in Parliament, his two friends, the President of Magdalen, and the Master of University College, voted for him without success. Their departure on this occasion from what was then thought the old and proper interest of the University, brought upon them some animadversions from a few of the warmest advocates on the other side; and little scurrilous witticisms flew about against them both in the newspapers; which, so far as their own persons were concerned, had lit tle effect upon either, but that of exciting their laughter; and they have often been heard to make themselves merry with several passages of that time.

Soon after he was advanced to the Presidentship of Magdalen College, he married the only daughter of Philip Burton, Esq. a lady for whom he always preserved the most inviolate affection. By her he had three daughters; of whom the eldest is married to the Rev. Mr. Selby Hele, and the youngest to the Rev. Mr. Hole. The unmarried daughter resides with Mrs. Horne, at Uxbridge. The former residence of this family near Windsor, introduced him to the acquaintance of several great and respectable characters in that neighbourhood, particularly Sir George Howard, who received, and may probably have preserved, many of his letters.*

*I recollect in this place an accident which happened to one of his letters. He corresponded formerly with Mr. Price, of Epsom, whose lady was the sister of Andrew Stone, Esq. By a mistake one of

these letters fell into the hands of Mr. Stone; and it happened to contain some free remarks upon the lives and characters of courtiers. When this was lament

ed as an unfortunate circumstance, "No, no," said Mr. Price, "no misfortune at

all-very proper those busy gentlemen in high life should see what learned men think of them and their situation."

In the year 1776, he was appointed Vice-Chancellor of the University, and continued in that office till October, 1780. His Vice-Chancellorship introduced him to the acquaintance of Lord North, then Chancellor of the University: a nobleman, who, to a fine temper and pleasant wit, had added such good principles and useful learning, that he found in Dr. Horne a person exactly suited to his own mind: and I suppose it owing to the united interest of Lord North and the present Earl of Liverpool, that he was made Dean of Canterbury. When this happened, he would willingly have quitted his cares at Oxford, and taken up his residence in Kent, his native county; but, that a friend, to whose judgment he owed respect, would not agree to the prudence of such a step. As for the Dean himself, worldly advantage was no object with him; he lived as he ought; and, if he was no loser at the year's end, he was perfectly satisfied. This I know, because I have it under his own hand, that he laid up nothing from his preferments in the Church. What he gave away was with such secrecy, that it was supposed by some persons to be little: but, after his death, when the pensioners, to whom he had been a constant benefactor, rose up, to look about them for some other support, then it began to be known who, and how many they were. He complained to one of his most intimate friends, how much it was out of his way to discover such objects as were worthy and proper, because he descended so little into commerce with the world; yet, said he, let any body show me, in any case, what ought to be done, and they will always find me ready to do it. So far as he knew, he did good; and often attempted it, when he could not know; which is more or less the case with every charitable man. The discernment of objects is the privilege of God alone; who yet doeth good unto all, where we know it not.

As often as he was at Canterbury, his time passed very pleasantly: he was in his native county: the families of the place and the neighbourhood showed him the greatest respect, and

were delighted with his company and conversation: if he could have in dulged himself with prudence, as he wished to do, he would have fixed himself there for the remainder of his life; but he still submitted to the unsettled life of a pilgrim, between the two situations of his College and his Deanry: with every thing that lay between Oxford and Canterbury, he was acquainted, and with little besides. In the year 1788, his constitutional infirmities began to increase upon him: "I have been more than ever harrassed (said he) this year, for four months past, with defluxions on my head and breast: they have driven me to take the benefit of the Headington air, this charming season, which, by God's blessing, will enable me to get clear for the summer, I believe. But, as I grow older, I shall dread the return of winter. Do you know what could be done in the way of preservative? My good friends of the Church wish me to continue here, and engage to do the business of the Midsummer Chapter without me. I am urged to get once more upon a horse-as much like an ass as possible. Long disuse hath now been added to an original awkwardness: however, by keeping to a gentle pace, I shall avoid going off, as you remember it was my hap once to do, like a frog from a board." The visiting of some watering-place, Brighthelmstone, or Ramsgate, for the benefit of sea-bathing, had often been of great service to him. But notwithstanding all that could be done, he grew old faster than his years would account for, being now only in his fiftyseventh year; so that when a design was formed of making him a Bishop, he felt himself by no means inclined to undertake the charge of so weighty an office; and it was not till after much reasoning with himself, that he was prevailed upon to accept it. I do not remember, that I ever took upon me, while this affair was depending, to throw in one word of advice, for it or against it; but rather that I left all things to work, as Pro

* The letter is dated May 20, 1798.

vidence should direct.* It was a sincere affliction to me, when I attended him at Norwich, to see how his limbs began to fail him. The palace there is entered by a large flight of steps; on which he observed one day, "Alas! I am come to these steps, at a time of life, when I can neither go up them nor down them with safety." However he resisted his infirmities with a degree of resolution. He accustomed himself to walk early in the garden by my persuasion; and assented to it, in his pleasant way, with these words "Mr. William, (for so it had been his custom to call me for many years,) "I have heard you say, that the air of the morning is a dram to the mind: I will rise to-morrow and take a dram" That the faculties of his mind did not fail, in the way it was imagined, so long as he remained at Norwich, I could show by the contents of the last letter he wrote te me, within a few weeks of his death; in which there is the same humour and spirit as had distinguished him in the prime of his life. That he was not subject to fits of weakness in his mind, I do not say he could not persevere in a train of thought, as he used to do, but applied himself by short intervals, as his ability would permit ; and in that way he could execute more than we should have expected from him, under his bodily infirmities. From two visits to Bath, he had received sensible benefit, and was meditating a third, when I left him in the autumn of 1791, which he had been requested

Very soon after the nomination of Dean Horne to the See of Norwich, a clergyman of that city, calling upon a clergyman of the city of London, said to him,

Report tells us, that the Dean of Can terbury is to be our Bishop." "Yes," said the London clergyman," so I hear, and I am glad of it, for he will make a truly Christian Bishop.""Indeed!" replied the other: "well, I do not know him myself, being a Cambridgeman; but it is currently reported at Norwich, that he is a Methodist." The same clergyman, when he became acquainted with his Bishop, was much delighted with him; and afterwards lamented his death as a great loss to the Christian Church in general, and to the Diocess of Norwich in Particular

not to defer too long. At my departúre from Norwich, he carried me in his coach about ten miles; and we conversed by the way on the subject of his Charge, of which his mind was full, and which he was then beginning to print. When I had made him a promise to meet him during his next visit at Bath, he set me down at Lodden, and I betook myself to my horses. That moment will for ever dwell, like a black spot, upon the mind, in which we had the last sight of a beloved friend. After this parting, 1 never saw him more. His company I can now seek only in his writings which are almost my daily delight. His journey to Bath, contrary to the persuasion of his friends, was deferred too long. Yet he had still such remaining vigour in his mind, that he did not intend to make his visit to Bath an idle one; but selected from his manuscript Sermons a sufficient number to compose a volume, and took them with him, intending to employ a printer at Bath upon them. To this he was partly encouraged by an observation his good and affectionate lady had made upon him, from the experience of several years, that he never seemed to be so well as when he had printers about him; of which she had even then seen a striking example at Norwich. But, alas! while he was upon the road, he suffered a paralytic stroke, and, though very ill, firiished his journey. Mrs. Horne after this wrote me a letter, full of hope, that, as the Bishop could walk to the pump-room daily, he would still recover: in consequence of which, I went with some courage to London, intending to go on from thence to Bath; but was informed, as soon as I arrived in town, that he was not expected to continue many days: and the next day brought us the melancholy news of his death.

My worthy friend and pleasant com panion, the Rev. Charles Millard, his chaplain, was with him at Bath, and was witness to many affecting passages which happened toward his latter end. Bad as he was, if Mrs. Horne entered the room, he spoke to her with his usual cheerfulness; although