SPECIAL ARTICLE. EDWARD KING, BISHOP OF LINCOLN.

Press, Volume LXV, Issue 19813, 28 December 1929, Page 11

SPECIAL ARTICLE. EDWARD KING, BISHOP OF LINCOLN.

A CENTENARY STUDY. (KtClkLL'i WEITTEX TOE THE tRESS.) -jy [by >. R. Cumim;. M.A.] "What curious people these English *reS" remarked a French prelate who WM in England at the time of the trial of Edward King. "They don't often get a Mint, and when they do they try to p U t him in prison."' The centenary of King's birth, which will be commemorated to-morrow, revives two memories: the memory of n:j. |ir.h;;pp-' far-r.ff thing" A-.il battles long aro whieh marred the progress of the great icclesiastical and religious revolution of which his life was the expression and a «hief cause; and the memory of "as true * jajnt ys God ever fashioned for His »wa glory and the service of men.'' In ever-,- way he was an extraordinary attractive man. Scott Holland Led to sav that he had just the sort of /ace von felt a human being ought to bavi * *' xare distinction was the mark »f his face."' writes Dr. Brightman, "so of his person and his life. Spiritually he was a saint, simple, sane, sensible, strong and a saint who made saintliness infinitely attractive: with all the Tractarian's seriousness and solemnity, aß d with a French capacity for making it seem not impossible to be good." Wheatlev, Cuddesdon, Oxford, Lin«olo — this" was the framework into ■which King's life was fitted —a life singular in its influence and all but unique during two generations for its grace and heauty. He came of an old Yorkshire faaiilv and was born in London on Detember J!Uh, 1829, the third child and leeond son of the Archdeacon of Rochester. He was educated privately until h<i was nineteen, when he matriculated at Oxford as a member of Oriel College. Oriel was the nursery of the Tractarian movement, and King a religion, which had already been modified by the more gracious influences of that movement at Oxford was still farther modified by intercourse with its leaders, especially Pusey and Charlet Marriott. "A right royal fellow" Marriott called him, voicing the verdict Of Oxford generally upon his undergraduate days. He took his B.A. degree la 1851, the year of the Gorham judgment which resulted in Manning's settssion, and his M.A. iu 1555. A curacy at Wheatley, near Oxford, followed hi* ordination by Bishop Samuel WilbeTforee in June of that year. Here, a« Prebendary Mackay remarks, the royalty in him which Oxford had recognised, shone out at once, in the exercise of those gracious gifts of nature and gTace which, for the rest of his life, were te give uniqueness to his personal and spiritual influence. With his love o* the poor, the over-worked, and the uallttered; hia love of natural scenery, which was the revelation of the eteT aal loveliness; and above all hia love of country pursuits, ho was to hia simple village flock the ideal shepherd and pastor. He was a good shot, a very , keen fisherman, and an expert about '♦.orses. "Uneommon knowin' old bird, the Bishop," said a hunting man once, "jolly good eye for a gee." The memory of the five years he spent among the villagers of Wheatley remained tp him and to them an inspiration and a stimulus for the rest of their lives. He left them to become, first chaplain, and then principal of Cuddesdon, the new theological college which Bishop Wilberforee had succeeded in establishing Bear Oxford. Here, in expounding and leatoring to their ancient high esteem the great institutional dogmatic and saeramental prerogatives of the church, and in moulding the lives and characters of her future priests, he did probably his greatest and most enduring work. After Cuddesdon came another wonderful stretch of years at Oxford. To the grief of his Cuddesdon students he aeeepted the Chair of Pastoral Theology which Gladstone, in spite of Archbishop Tait's remonstrances, had offered to him. As at Cuddesdon so at Oxford his influence was enormous. In hiß hands pastoral theology ceased to be a perfunctory futility and became a new and living forco, capable of transforming lives. His eager sympathy, his trulv Franciscan lightheartedness, —not the least important lesson his •Indents learnt from him was how to be happy though holy—his deep spirituality and sanctified commonsense, together with his learning, which as Dr. Brightman says, was so much part of his character that it might easily have escaped notice in the limplieity and charm of his personality—these gifts attracted great crowds ef undergraduates, both to the official lectures of his chair, and to the private lectures which he gave at his hooae in Christ Church. His infuenee extended far beyond Oxford, «nd is still a force indeed in the towns and villages of England, where thoae who came under it are still translating his lessons into practice. Dr. Christopher Wordsworth resigned the See of Lincoln in January, 1885, and Mr Gladstone, who had[audi pod reason to be pleased with his previous appointment, at once offered •t to King. Not without genuine Wtation the proposal was accepted. At soon as tho appointment was announced, letters began to pour in from »H part, of the country. "Everyone compassionated Oxford; everyone conpatulated King. Everyone gave thanks for tho signal blessing granted to the Church of England. Only LMdon remembered to thank Mrblua•tone for the part he had pKved. Gifts, including a cheque for £!_?<*', from friends in Oxford which Js.mg bestowed on 6t. Stephen's House, were showered upon him by many who had good reason to thank God upon every remembrance of him. In the presence •f a vast congregation, he was con*eerated in St. Paul's Cathedral by Archbishop Benson en April 2otn IMS, and a month later was enthroned in Lincoln Minster as the sixtieth sucteaior of St. Hugh. Twenty-five vears of strenuous worJt »«* lav" before him. He threw him•elf whole-heartedly into the laborious task of organising his great agricultural diocese, visiting its scattered parishes, encouraging his clergy, and endearing himself to his peonle everywhere, by his iwrsonal interest in them, and his constant thought and care for the welfare •f the humblest among them. At tne »ame time, refusing to be intimidated »r the populace, or Parliament, ** continued to teach what he regarded as the full faith of tne Charch of England, and to encourage the restoration of her ancient discipline *ad worship. For three years the worK *ent on without serious interruption. ***e Church Association then came up- «* the .scene. This Society established In 1863 to "counteract Popery and Kit**oW in the Church of England: and »» the course of its efforts spent some *W.OOO in ritual prosecutions. A lev }«eit3 were harried out of their par- "*«. some were east into prison and •**«! driven to Rome. At immense 2* the Association secured i ud £ nie °„ **•» the Privv Council. ™ IC J? Tf™ > ro «Ptly ignored bv the offending

priest*—who repudiated the jurisdiction of a. secular Court in spiritual'affairs —and are now but forgotten futilities. Flying at higher game than slum priests, the Church Association presented a petition to the Archbishop of Canterbury, stating that the Bishop of Lincoln had been guilty of certain ritual acts which had been declared illegal, and requesting the Archbishop to rite and try his suffragan. His Grace was a little doubtful of hjs authority, but finally consented. . The trial—it was not a trial, j Stubhs declared, but an Archbishop sitting in his library—lasted three weeks, and caused a tremendous commotion. Judgment was delivered on November 21st, ISf'O. Contrary to expectation it was highly favourable to the Bishop. The subsequent appeal of the Church Association to the Privy Council was quashed. The upshot of the whole litigation was, as, Mr Gladstone said, and subsequent history has proved, that ''some principles of deep moment have gained a ground from which they will not easily be dislodged." Through all the strain of the litigation King's .serenity of mind and heart remained untroubled; but his friends noticed afterwards how much it had cost him. He emerged victorious but broken. He was visibly older, and the old buoyancy was gone for ever. The same love, patience, and forbearance remained, however, and the same unfaltering loyalty to what he regarded as the true standards of the Church of England as set forth in the neglected pages of her Prayer Book. There followed some years of quiet and happy pastoral work and active beneficence in the service of hia beloved people, whose welfare was never out of his mind, and whose happiness it was to render him the homage and help which were his due. Only one dread now filled his mind: the dread of continuing unusefully in office. To his life's day, however, was granted in rare measure a calm, unclouded ending, and an eve untouched by shadows of decay. On Assize Sunday, less than a fortnight before he died, he entertained the Judges at luncheon, and next day travelled some miles to take what proved to be his last confirmation. A week later he dictated from his deathbed a moving farewell letter to his diocese. He rallied once or twice, but the end was at hand, and came quietly and peacefully on the morning of March Sth, 1910, just as the Minster bells were summoning the worshippers to Mattins. His body was laid to rest in the Cloister Garth, the Archbishop of Canterbury officiating in the presence of an immense congregation. Private advice has been received in Christchureh that Mr TJ'Arcy Cresswell's book, "The Poet's Progress,'' has been accepted for publication by Messrs Faber and Fafccr on the recommendation, of Mr Arnold Bennett. This book consists almost entirely of the articles I which Mr Creswell wrote for The -Phess I over a year ago, and will have a I portrait of the author by Professor I Rothensteln. I "Stet," in one of his last "Back S Numbers" in the "Saturday Review," deals with Swinburne's friendship for Purnell, one of the "seallwags of literature and literary journalism," and explains Swinburne's loyalty by the fact that he never ceased to be grateful to Purnell for having engineered his meeting with Mazsini: In the actual meeting, as so often in the crises of Swinburne's life, there was an element of comedy. Landor had forced him to »ccept as memorial of their meeting n Bublime masterpiece of Florentine painting which wa» in fact a daub, and which Swinburne speedily lost: Swinburne had protested against depriving the Master of a treasure: and benevolent donor and protesting recipient had earried the argument to a point at which the two most defiant human beings in the world of that day roared and shrieked at each other. As regards the meeting, long deferred with Hugo, Swinburne vm too deaf to hear the terms in which Hugo proposed his health, Hugo too deaf to hear the terms of Swinburne's ecstatic reply, and when Swinburne, in the great old fashion, flung his glass into the fireplace lest any other b health should be drunk from the consecrated vessel, the parsimonious Olympian could only mutter, "One of my best glasses, one of my best." . . , As to the meeting with Mazzim engineered by Purnell, Swinburne took with him the manuscript of his "Song of Italy," and, seated at the liberator's feet, read the whole of it to the dazed Mazzini. An archangel might be put out of countenance by such eulogy at that poem contains, but somehow Maiiini kept hia, and from time to time by a pressure of the hand, for they held hands during the recital, signified his appreciation. But the poem, though of extraordinary splendour, especially in the magnificent doxology of the cities of Italy, is very long, very monotonous, and in metre as nearly constricting as anv metre could be for Swinburne: and Maszini <Mn scarcely have perceived the peculiar blaze of brilliance, as If the light of a new day were thrown dazaJingly back from every peak and pinnacle in a liberated Italv, which makes the poem so remarkable and* so fatiguing. But. comedy or not. and Maizini had no idea when the Tapturous m-' ventory of cities that adored him was going to end, out of that meeting came the greatest volume of political roetry in our language.

Entries in a "Saturday Beview" competition, an epitaph being called for, in not more than six lines of rhymed verse, on a Film "fan": Who once beheld the stars and all their pride Of life in their mimetic orbits ride ' Rests in this caTe with Sleep the filmy-eyed. Eternal night shall wrap that poppied brow. Let him awake not eve*. Tis enow To dream of stars that gem Igdrastl s bough. Here lies Augusta* Jones, queued up to see The Silent Drama of Eternity. Content to *s*e »nd worship from afar, He hitched hie wargon to a *>'«-' ■?£_.,,„ The gods bequeathed the star a voice —ehe Kt herlirst words the waggon-traces broke. Now in celestial kinemas he »e»" The phototonie music of the spheres. Dream, as he walked, of Hollywood, But on his last and fatal walk he, In musing on the latest talkie Provided (with the local t ra t ßc .'. A feature for the Gaumont Graphic. Flick-stars he gased upon and held his breath "Hold on! I'll shoot you m the act, saia Death. The last three, by Francis Watson, "Valimus," and W. B. Dunstan, were placed first, second, and third. In a recent "Saturday Review" literarv competition the task was the writing of a thirty-fifth and final sTanS g to Browning's "Childe Roland to thTdark tower came." The entries of "Pithecanthropes" and "Aahmus were placed first and second: Howlv the huge gates opened with a bray Of rusty hinges, like a secret Jeer. But I. esultant. entered w'*»° u ' '«*•-- Before me there the dusty highroad lay And, leaning on his crutch bes.de the way. The eripp'e waited with his covert sneer. Well hither had the ranting beggar led Mv folly: and the hillside fools out thrust Thin, scornful lips: "Once come, then stay Likens" ,""£.* tower's curs'd and ancient The norn'fell silent; suddenly I read Mr doom, like fire, scrawl d in the bitter dust. The mvsterious title "G.K.C. as M.C.' indicates a collection ot thirty-seven introductions which Mr Chesterton, as a literarv master of ceremonies, has written for various books that have appealed to him. The conclusion of G. D. H-Cole's "Politics and literature' is that for the most part, modern political hterature is far less literature than its equivalent of 100 years ago. "Andromeda* in Wimpole S*"**" *• th* ingenious title chosen by ™"« Creston for her hook on Mrs Browning.