Sold by I
LIFE
OF
JOHN JEBB, D.D. F.R.S.
BISHOP OF LIMERICK, ARDFERT AND AGHADOR.
* WITH
A SELECTION FROM HIS LETTERS. BY
THE REV. CHARLES FORSTER, B.D.
PERPETUAL CURATE OF ASH NEXT SANDWICH, AND
ONE OF THE SIX PREACHERS IN THE CATHEDRAL OF CHRIST, CANTERBURY FORMERLY DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN TO BISHOP JEBB.
493895
IN TWO VOLUMES,
VOL. I.
LONDON:
JAMES DUNCAN, 37. PATERNOSTER-ROW ; AND JOHN COCHRAN, 108. STRAND.
MDCCCXXXVI.
« In all revolutions, as he had espoused principles constant to truth and duty, so he stood firm to his principles, as a wise and honest man ; bearing up with his great abilities against the stream, while reason could be heard, and afterward retiring within himself, and wrapping himself in innocence and patience ; more affected by the public sins and miseries than by his own suffering ; always as cheerful as one that had the con tinual feast of a good conscience, and the happiness to learn, in what state soever he was, therewithal to be contented.'
Character of Bishop Sanderson, ap. Memorials of Eminent Persons.
LONDON :
Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE, N ew- Street- Square.
n
" '.-1'
TO
HIS GRACE THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
MY LORD,
IT is with sentiments of gratitude and venera tion, of which words would be wholly unex- pressive, that I avail myself of your Grace's permission, to connect the name of Archbishop Howley with the memory of Bishop Jebb.
The Life of that eminent and lamented Prelate can be inscribed to no one now living, with equal propriety, as to your Grace; since, to no one now living did he, in his earlier course as a theo logical writer, owe equal encouragement, or, to his latest days, acknowledge equal obligation.
VI DEDICATION.
The opinion expressed by your Grace, to whom he was then personally unknown, on his first published volume, gave him, what his humility of mind rendered peculiarly needful, confidence in himself. And, when ' Sacred Literature * ap peared, you were not only the first to give the sanction of your station and authority to that original work, and to pronounce the discovery, which it establishes, one likely to open a wide field to future commentators on Scripture ; but you found time, amidst the arduous duties of the See of London, to accompany your favourable judgment by strictures, as valuable in themselves, as, to my own knowledge, they were gratifying and encouraging to the author.
When it pleased Providence to raise him to the highest office in the Church of Christ, Bishop Jebb continued, on every opportunity, to expe rience from your Grace the kindest attention, and the most cordial co-operation. And when it seemed good to unerring Wisdom to visit him with that great affliction, which withdrew from
DEDICATION. Vll
the public service of our united Church (if I may use your Grace's words) ' one of its brightest ornaments/ you ministered to the last, every thing that human sympathy could minister, to cheer the hours of sickness, and to animate his latest efforts in the service of your common Master.
•<l« •'<• .+ '.,
May I be permitted to add, that your kind ness reached even beyond the grave, in that protection and countenance so graciously ex tended to the Bishop's friend and fellow-labourer in the Gospel, which, by giving him a home in your Grace's own Diocese, and in a situation healthfully blending lettered leisure with active professional duties, has enabled him to execute, according to his limited ability, the faithful por traiture contained in these volumes. And may I further be forgiven for owning, before I take leave, that, while engaged upon the Life of my departed Friend, I have been often, and irresist ibly reminded of a gracious living Benefactor, . . that I have seen a similarity of spirit, on which
Vlll DEDICATION.
I could delight to dwell, did I not feel, with Dr. Jortin, in his classical inscription to a predecessor of your Grace, the seemliness of that custom of the ancients, . . never to sacrifice to Heroes before sunset.
That the sun of your Grace's influence and example may long shine upon our Zion, is the earnest desire and prayer of,
My Lord, Your Grace's most obliged, and most
dutiful humble servant,
CHARLES FORSTER.
ASH VICARAGE, WINGHAM, Feb. 16. 1836.
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LIFE
OP
BISHOP JEBB
SECTION I.
IT was a remark made by the subject of the following memoir, that there is not, perhaps, an educated human being, who may not throw some light on his own character, and contribute somewhat to the philosophy of the human mind, by recalling and preserving minute and early features of his life and habits.
Upon this principle, in compliance with a suggestion of the present writer, he accordingly drew up, from memory, in October 1818, a short account of the early features of his own life, to the close of his fifteenth year : and, in March 1823, he resumed and continued this private autobiography, to the year 1810. ,
From these materials, and information inci-
VOL. I. B
2 LIFE OF
dentally communicated to the author, during a residence of many years under the same roof, are derived the particulars related in the first part of the ensuing narrative.
John Jebb, D.D., Bishop of Limerick, was born on the 27th of September, 1775, in the city of Drogheda.
The family had been settled, towards the end of the seventeenth century, at Mansfield; and previously, for several generations, at Wood- borough*, also in Nottinghamshire; where the names of many of its members are still preserved in the parish registers, from the commencement of the reign of Elizabeth ; and where the family arms are said to have occupied a place in the principal window of the parish church, until it was destroyed, probably in the general wreck of painted windows during the great rebellion.
The Jebbs of Mansfield have been distin guished, as a literary family t ; several anecdotes
* In 1826, the Rev. Dr. Cursham, Vicar of Mansfield, was so kind as t o make personal inquiry at Woodborough, after the Jebb family, once seated there. Upon mentioning his object to the Curate of Woodborough, who had served there for many years, the old man rose from his seat, went to his book-shelves, and taking down SACRED LITERATURE, expressed his delight at having it in his power to furnish any information respecting his family, to the author of a work, which had been to him a source of the highest instruction and enjoyment.
f ' Few families have produced more persons, connected with the lite rary history of the last century, than the JEBBS.' Nichols, Literary Anec dotes rf the I8tk Century.
BISHOP JEBB. 3
of them have been related by Mr. Nichols, in his Literary Anecdotes ; short lives of some of them are given in the Biographical Dictionary ; and a memoir of Dr. John Jebb, of Peter-house College, Cambridge, whom the Bishop charac terizes, as his ' very honest and able, but wrong- headed and heretical cousin/ is prefixed to his miscellaneous works.
Samuel Jebb, the great grandfather of the Bishop, married, in 1689, Elizabeth, daughter of
Gilliver, Esq., of Banefield in Yorkshire,
and of Amelia De Witt*, a near relative of John De Witt, Grand Pensionary of Holland : a stock, from which his descendants would seem to have inherited, strength of character, independence of mind, love of freedom, and indomitable ardour in all their pursuits. ' With strength, however,' the Bishop adds, ' weakness was sufficiently min gled : and prudence, in the ordinary sense of the term, was by no means their characteristic. Some of them were tolerably successful in the acquisition, but none proceeded to the accu-
* John De Witt, father of Amelia De Witt, and uncle, it is thought, to the Grand Pensionary, came over to England in the reign of Charles I., for the purpose of draining the Fens of Lincolnshire. In recompense for this national service, he had large parliamentary grants assigned him, out of the recovered lands ; but these estates were lost to his only daughter and her descendants, or rather were never obtained possession of, in con sequence of the disorders which prevailed during the civil wars. A medal, in silver, of John and Cornelius De Witt, now in possession of the
B 2
4 LIFE OF
mulation, of the goods of fortune. They were apt to spend, with more rapidity than they acquired ; and many of them were liberal in the transactions, and almost profuse in the charities of life.'
By his marriage with Elizabeth Gilliver, Sa muel Jebb had six sons, and three daughters. Richard, the eldest son, the Bishop's grandfather, went over to Ireland early in the last century;
Rev. John Jebb, is the only heir-loom of their descent remaining with the family.
The following genealogical table may illustrate Mr. Nichols' remark, respecting the family of Jebb.
JOHN DE WITT.
— Gilliver, Esq. = Amelia De ofBanefield, I Witt. Yorkshire.
Samuel Jebb, = Elizabeth
Esq. of Mansfield
Gilliver, m. 1689.
-Hallifax = Hannah. Mr. James = Eliza- Oates. | beth.
Richard Jebb, eldest son, set tled in Ire- land.
t. Hallifax, S. Halli
Samuel, M.D.,
second son, ed.
of Aristides,
Roger Bacon,&c.
R. Hallifax, S. Hallifax, William^ Ann. M.D. Phys. D.D. Bp. of Ward, to the King St. Asaph. Esq. John Jebb, Esq
and P. of Alderman of
Wales. Drogheda.
Joshua, nat. Feb. 17. 1699, ob.l799,aet.lOO,
ancestor to Joshua Jebb, Esq. of Walton Grove, Ches terfield.
John, D.D. youngest son, Dean ofCashel.
Sir Richard Jebb,
Bt. M.D. Phys.
in Ordin. to
George 1 1 1.
Dr. John Jebb, of Peter-house
College, Cambridge.
William Radcliffe. = Ann Ward, only
child, born 1764,
author of the
Mysteries of
Udolpho.
Richard Jebb,
Judge of
KB.
L
JOHN JEBB, D.D. Bp. of Limerick.
BISHOP JEBB. 5
and settled in Drogheda as a merchant. He is described as a man of strong sense, and sound principle ; of hasty temper, indeed, but good- natured and benevolent in an eminent degree. In the opinion of his nephew, the late Sir Richard Jebb, Bart., he was the best of the family ; and respect for his character, together with his se niority, determined Sir Richard to bequeath his fortune to Richard, the Bishop's elder brother, the grandson of this gentleman.
Richard Jebb died in 1767, leaving an only son, John, born about 1719, who married, 1. Pris- cilla Forbes, by whom he had no issue ; and 2. Alicia Forster. He died in 1796 : leaving, by his second wife, three daughters, and two sons. 1. Richard, second Justice of the Court of King's Bench in Ireland ; and 2. John, Bishop of Limerick, the subject of the present memoir.
The character of his father, as drawn by Bishop Jebb, will not fail to interest the reader. ' My father pursued trade ; ultimately with bad success. He was too honest, too simple-hearted, and too unsuspecting, for the people with whom he had to cope. He was a man of great simpli city and integrity of mind and heart ; and, though not prosperous in worldly affairs, he failed not to gain the esteem and affection of those among whom he lived. He filled the first civic offices in
B 3
6 LIFE OF
Drogheda; and was there universally beloved and respected. About two years after my birth, he removed from Drogheda, to Leixlip, in the county of Kildare, till, in the year 1789, he went to reside with my brother, in Dublin, and at Rosstrevor, in the county of Down, where he died. He was the most indulgent and affec tionate of parents ; and I have never known an individual, who appeared so entirely to possess, through a long life, the innocence of childhood. A little circumstance lately came to my know ledge, which afforded me deep gratification. One of my sisters, in the year 1815, was passing through Drogheda ; she went to look at the house in which my father had lived ; and seeing a very old man in the street, she inquired, . . ' Who lives in that house ? ' The man informed her. ' Do you recollect who lived there for merly ? ' ' Yes,' quickly and emphatically an swered the old man, ' the best man that Drogheda ever saw lived there, . . Alderman Jebb.' My sister, I must observe, was quite unknown in Drogheda. If it be weakness, I trust it is an excusable weakness, to feel com placency in this testimony of a ' smutched artificer/ to the good name of my father ; so long after his death ; and nearly forty years after his benefactions had ceased to that place,
BISHOP JEBB. 7
where, it seems, his memory is still che rished/
In 1777) the period of his father's commercial misfortunes, John, then an infant of two years of age, was taken from Drogheda, into the family of his aunt, Mrs. Mary McCormick. His debt of gratitude to this parental relative, and to her sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Sotheby, sank deep into his heart ; and he thus affectionately commemorates it and them, at the distance of above forty years. * My aunt McCormick, the widowed sister of my father, a woman of many sorrows, resided at Rosstrevor. She taught me to read ; and, I may add, to think ; instilling into me early, to the best of her skill, the principles of Christianity. My religious instruction began very early ; and, so far back as memory can reach, I can recall the good old usage of hearing read, each morning after breakfast, the psalms and chapters for the day. On Sundays, I was catechized : and I have still the faint impression on my mind, that Sunday was to me a day of enjoyment. During the five years that I remained under her care, this excellent woman watched over me, with the tenderness of a parent : to her instructions, and to those of her sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Sotheby, also a widow, I was indebted for the first princi ples of education, and the first rudiments of
8 LIFE OF
religion. They were both valuable relations : to me, I may say, invaluable. Mrs. McCormick had a natural vein of sprightliness and vivacity ; which, however, was overcast, at least so far as my memory extends, by a deep tinge of melan choly. She had lost several children by the small-pox ; some of whom took that disorder by infection, others received it by inoculation ; and, in both instances, she was too apt to lay the blame of the fatal catastrophe upon her own mismanagement ; nor, till the day of her death, could she forgive herself, for these imaginary crimes.3
' My aunt Sotheby possessed a stronger mind; indeed, in many respects, the strongest female mind I ever knew. She had married into a most respectable family in the county of Louth ; but her husband dying without issue, the estate passed to a distant branch, and she was reduced to a very moderate jointure. With this small income, she always maintained the appearance and habits of a gentlewoman ; always had money in her pocket ; and was always doing kind and generous things. Her purse, her heart, and her mind, were ever open to her friends. Her time was divided between my father's family, and that of the McCormicks ; to both of which she was the most ready and discreet adviser ; nor do
BISHOP JEBB. 9
I believe that, in a single instance, her advice was any other than the soundest, and most long sighted. Had it been uniformly followed, it is impossible to conjecture the extent of inconve nience that might have been avoided, and of advantage that might have been secured. . . How deeply I am indebted, and in the most important ways, to those two good, and most affectionate instructresses, I shall not know in this world ; but sure I am, that the child of such cares has much to answer for.'
At this period of early childhood, the charac ter and dispositions (to judge by his description of his grandfather, in good measure hereditary) were already apparent, which belonged to him in after life : constitutional warmth of temper, counteracted and softened by the workings of an affectionate heart ; a strong sense of justice, and love of truth, united with great gentleness and docility ; . . were the qualities for which, from infancy, he was most remarked in his family.
In a letter to the present writer, Judge Jebb, who was nearly ten years the Bishop's senior, thus conveys his recollections of his brother, as a child. ' The impression made on me was, that of a gentle, affectionate child, somewhat hasty in temper, but not bold : quiet, and fond of reading ; but, at the same time, lively, and
10 LIFE OF
loving play. I think, though he was not back ward in learning, he was not remarkably quick, certainly not precocious. We were always very fond of each other. I perfectly remember our cousins, at Rosstrevor, treating my brother, as I thought, ill-naturedly, for something that an noyed them ; old Jack Henry (mentioned in the Bishop's notice*) taking his part with warmth, and reproachfully, as my father had been kind to them ; and my taking my brother into the wood, and fondling him there ; that Jack Hen ry's words sunk into my heart, made me love the old man still better, and gave me the first strong impression of the duty of gratitude, and very probably, also, a notion of being my brother's protector.'
How little do we understand the economy of providential instrumentality. It is an instructive fact, that, to the attachment of this humble de pendent, may be traced the whole shape and colour of Bishop Jebb's after life : since from him the 4 good and generous brother,' to whom, to use the Bishop's own words, quoted afterwards more fully, ' he owed his education, his rank in society, and himself,' appears to have first inci-
* ' I listened, with all the avidity of childhood, to the tales, which an old dependent in my aunt's family, by name Jack Henry, used to pour forth without number, as I sat upon his knee.' . . BP. JEBB, MS. Notes.
BISHOP JEBB. 11
dentally received the impulse, which taught that brother, ever after, to feel and act towards him as a parent. . . If, as may be inferred from Saint Matthew, xxvi. 13., the transmission of a good remembrance to after times, forms a legitimate part of the recompense of our right actions here, then, old Jack Henry has not lost his reward.
Another point of character, of equally early growth, was the love of method and order ; . . a degree of exactness and regularity, so unusual in a child, as to be observed even by strangers, and to fix upon him, among the friends of the family, the epithet of ' methodical/ The epithet was most characteristic. So predominant in his nature was the love of order and method, that, to the close of life, the least departure from concinnity, . . a book out of its place, a letter laid negligently upon the table, or the slightest unevenness or irregularity in the disposition of a piece of furniture, offended his eye, and caused him uneasiness, and he would turn from his most interesting studies to correct it. In this point, as he used himself to remark, there was a striking similarity, between him and the cele brated George Whitefield. One passage in Jay's Life of Cornelius Winter (a book of which Mr. Jebb was very fond) describing Mr. Whitefield's love of neatness, he turned to with congenial
12 LIFE OF
interest ; observing, that it contained an accurate description of himself. ' Whether only by him self, or having but a second, his table must have been spread elegantly, though it produced but a loaf and a cheese. He was neat to the extreme in his person, and every thing about him . Not a paper must have been out of place, or put up irregularly. Each part of the furniture must have been likewise in its place, before he retired to rest. He said he did not think he should die easy, if his gloves were out of their place.' *
In this connection, I may anticipate an anec dote, related to me by a common friend. Being on a visit with Mr. Jebb at Abington, an aged couple, man and wife, came to the house, and asked alms : learning that they were wayfarers, and struck with their decent poverty, Mr. Jebb gave them a crown. His guest, who had been absent taking a morning ride, met them as they proceeded on their way ; and being equally struck by their appearance, noticed it on his return ; remarking, as the circumstance which
* It is very remarkable, that the eminent engraver (Mr. T. Lupton), who executed a mezzotinto print of Bishop Jebb, after a portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence, but who, at the time, had never seen the original, , . having spoken of the head, as indicative of high mental powers, and as compressing those powers within the most compact compass he had ever known in his professional experience, . . concluded by saying, that, from mere observation of the head, without any knowledge of the character, he should pronounce love of order, to be the leading feature of its owner's mind.
BISHOP JEBB. 13
most caught his eye, that, though so poorly clad, the old man had gloves on. * Had he gloves on?' answered Mr. Jebb, with marked interest. No more passed at the time ; but, shortly after, my informant discovered, that a messenger, on horseback, had been immediately dispatched to overtake the poor wayfarers, with an additional and much larger bounty.
His love of regularity and neatness particularly appeared upon the eve of a journey. He could not leave home in comfort, without first putting his drawers and papers into the most perfect order : on such occasions, he has more than once observed to me, ' If any thing should hap pen to me, I wish that all shall be found decent and in order.' His spirit was the same to the end. Just before his last illness, he had pre pared, with the aid of a friend, to arrange his papers, letters, &c. ; evidently, though nothing of the kind was intimated, that all might be orderly, whenever his appointed change should come.
At the close of the year 1782, when he had completed his seventh year, it was determined that he should join his father's family, atLeixlip. Here, for some time,- he felt himself a stranger in his father's house, so deep was the impression, which the care and tenderness of his two aunts
14 LIFE OF
had left upon his infant mind. His mother was not spared him long enough to fill the void. Very shortly after he reached Leixlip, she went to Bourdeaux in a deep decline ; and it was the will of Providence that she never should return. By him, she could scarcely be recollected; but, by his brother, she is described as a very sensible, and clever woman ; a very good judge of charac ter ; devoted to the care of her children ; and delighting herself, under depressed circumstances, with anticipations of their future success in life.
Not improbably, to this bereavement it was owing, that the serious had early charms for him. A circumstance, strongly indicative of this turn of mind, occurred when he was about ten years of age. While playing, one day, in the church yard of Leixlip, the boy's eye was caught by the motto on a tomb-stone, MEMENTO MORI. He inquired the meaning of the words, and was deeply impressed with it. The next day, his brother, then at the university, and about nine- teen years of age, came to Leixlip to take leave of the family, previously to his going over to France for a sister, who had accompanied their mother to Bourdeaux, and remained there, with an uncle, some time after her death. Wishing to possess himself of the words, which he had
BISHOP JEBB, 15
discovered on the tomb-stone the day before, he brought to his brother a childish album, which he had procured for scribbling, and begged of him to write down in it memento mori. The request was made at the moment of his de parture, and, instead of memento mori, his bro ther wrote memento mei. * From that hour to the present,' adds the Bishop, 'he has taken special care, that the impression made, while he translated these touching words, should never be obliterated : to me, and to our sisters, he has been, as to our father he was for several years, loco parentis ; his heart and house ever open to us ; every advantage, with which Providence has been pleased to favour him*, affectionately shared with us ; and he has been dealt with accordingly : blest with a most valuable wife t, and children
* I have never known a stronger sense of a special Providence, than in the case of this distinguished layman. One saying of his to myself, I shall record for the benefit of others : . . « It is my full conviction, from my own actual experience, that, if a man would only habituate himself to survey the events of his past life, under this aspect, he would see the hand of Providence as distinctly marked, as the towns and countries upon a map.'
f This inestimable blessing it pleased God to withdraw, in November 1823. The character of Mrs. Jebb, from the pen of the Bishop, by whom she was loved with a truly fraternal affection, may be, not un- appropriately, inserted here. Its strict fidelity will, at once, be recog nized, by those who had the privilege of being admitted to her intimacy.
« Died, on Saturday, the 8th inst., in Rutland Square, Dublin, Jane Louisa, wife of the Hon. Mr. Justice Jebb, and daughter of the late John
16 . LIFE OF
of the highest promise, he has just attained (1818) a Judge's seat on the King's Bench; the public voice bearing testimony, that the appoint ment is honourable to the government of the country. Nor can I omit, that he has risen by
Finlay, Esq., of Corkagh, in the county of Dublin. She was exemplary in the discharge of every relative and social duty ; for her conduct flowed from the best natural qualities, raised and regulated by the influences of true religion : sincere, prudent, and disinterested, she united masculine strength of mind with a truly feminine delicacy and tenderness of heart : simple in her tastes, and sober in her wishes, she was herself a practical testimony, that moderation is the true secret of enjoyment : her religion was suited to her character ; earnest, rational, and deep, it was noiselessly cultivated in her closet, and unostentatiously manifested only in its fruits. During a protracted, and hopeless malady, it sustained her, not merely with resignation, but with cheerfulness ; and, as her latter end drew near, she was more and more detached from that world, above the vanities of which she had habitually lived. The writer of these lines had the hap piness to witness the calm, placid, unpresumptuous confidence, which, in her last hours, deprived death of its sting ; and the wish which he then fervently breathed, he now dispassionately holds, that he may be enabled like her to live, and like her to die.'
At this edifying death-bed, Bishop Jcbb, as here intimated, had minis tered ; and the strength and comfort, the peace and serenity, which his presence and conversation, under a divine blessing, proved the means of imparting to his dying relative, and of diffusing through the family, re turned, like the Psalmist's prayer, into his own bosom. What I relate, I witnessed : it is not, I feel, my part to dwell upon domestic sorrows ; yet one instructive incident I cannot withhold. About two years before her death, Mrs. Jebb had happened to receive, on the same day, two gifts, . . from her affectionate husband, a costly pair of diamond earrings, and, from the Bishop, a small copy of Thomas a Kempis. During her last illness, as the Bishop sat by her bedside, she drew from beneath her pillow the little homely manual, and, pointing to the diamonds, said, . . ' Oh ! John, how different are my feelings now, from what they were this time two years : then, I could feel complacency in those empty baubles ; now, I would not exchange this little volume, for all the diamonds of the east.'
BISHOP JEBB. 17
the force of pure merit; that he never courted business, or asked for office ; that he kept most delicately aloof, when many might have thought him to blame in not putting himself forward. And I am confident he has been right.'*
* When preparing my materials for the Life of Bishop Jebb, I could have little anticipated, that this tribute to the best of brothers, could, with propriety, be communicated to the world. August 27. 1834., and little more than nine months after the Bishop's death, he who was the subject of it, . . too soon, alas! for his country, though not untimely for himself (for he lived in constant preparedness for the last great change), . . fell a victim, after an illness of thirty hours, to malignant cholera. To the justness of the high testimony borne, by fraternal affection, at the period (Decem ber 1818.) of his elevation to the judicial bench, the public judgment of the united kingdom has long set its seal. And the name and memory of Judge Jebb will, henceforward, live, worthily associated with those of his brother : . .
* They were lovely and pleasant in their lives ; And in death they were not divided !'
Judge Jebb was educated at the endowed school of Drogheda, under Dr. Norris, a name of great and merited local celebrity ; and, afterwards, in the University of Dublin, where, among other eminent contemporaries, he was the class-fellow, and became the intimate friend, of the late Dr. Magee, Archbishop of Dublin. In 1799, he published ' A Reply to a Pamphlet entitled, Arguments for and against a Union.' This pamphlet (his only publication) made a great impression. Mr. Knox (at the time private secretary to Lord Castlereagh) told Mr. John Jebb, many years after, that it had stamped his brother, in his estimate, as a man of 6rst-rate powers. And Lord Glenbervie, who succeeded Lord Castlereagh as Secretary for Ireland, cited Mr. Jebb's pamphlet, and it alone, as com prizing all the arguments of real weight against a legislative union of the countries : the whole of which, he said, he felt himself to be replying to, in answering Mr. Jebb. Shortly after the Union, a seat in the Imperial Parliament was offered him, by the Government which he had opposed ; but, on mature consideration, he declined it; nor could he, subsequently, be induced to stand, though with a certainty of being returned, for his native city of Drogheda.
VOL. I. C
18 LIFE OF
At eleven years of age, in the autumn of 1786, he was sent to Celbridge School: not because it was the best, but merely because it was within two miles of Leixlip. The school master is graphically described by his pupil, as ' a thin, tall, formal, and somewhat austere, though not ill-natured, layman, of the Roman catholic persuasion, by name Owen Begnall : well-intentioned, but in no degree qualified for the education of youth. As a classical school, it was miserable : but, as the larger proportion of the boys were not intended for any of the learned professions, English education was better attended to; and, in this important particular, he had some advantages, which are wanting at many or most of our great classical schools. Here he remained, till the Christmas vacation of 1788.
His recollections of Celbridge were far from pleasing. The boys were, for the most part, of low and vulgar habits ; their manners and prin ciples, generally, bad. In three years, he had lost sight of them all ; nor was he afterwards aware, that any one of them had emerged into respectable life.
The discomforts of a situation so utterly un congenial, may be but too easily understood. He has thus depicted some of them. 'The
BISHOP JEBB. 19
elder boys wanted to enter me as a boxer : for this I had no relish, my disposition being rather quiet and pacific. Hence grew much misery : they hunted me through the school-yards ; they ridiculed, they teased, they beat me. I expe rienced sufferings the same in kind, though in ferior in degree, as those which Cowper has so pathetically described, in his history of his West minster life.'* Unlike the sickly and sensitive poet, however, there was a buoyancy, and moral resistance in his nature, which kept him from sinking ; and long before he left this unpromising
* This account of his school-boy sufferings, recalls to my mind the similar, but more prolix narrative (the prolixity of old age) of an eminent prelate of a different country and communion, the learned Bishop of Avranches : * Cum invidiam illorum [condiscipulorum] excitaret amor ille Hterarum qui in me erat, nihil praetermissum ab illis est, quo me avert! posse crederent a studiis : libri mei surrepti, chartae concerptse, vel aqua perfusae, vel sevo illitze, ut scripturam nostram respuerent ; cubiculi nostri occlusa? fores, ne, dum ipsi ludo darent operam, ego illic cum libello deli- tescerem, quod et saepe factum a me deprehenderant. Cum autem rure ageremus, per autumnales ferias, turn vero nefas esse putabant libros attin- gere ; totosque dies, vel lusitando, vel venando, vel deambulando, duci jubebant. Me vero cum alia traheret voluptas, antequam excitati essent e soinno, exoriente sole, domo clam egressus, vel condebam me in silvam, vel raptim certe opacam aliquam sectabar umbram, quae me, placide legentem et studentem, ab oculis eorum protegeret. At illi me, diu per durnos quaesitum, et velut indagine cinctum, extrahebant tandem a latibulis, vel lapillorum madentiumve globorum jactu, vel aqua clam, per siphones, inter arborum ramos immissa. Sed quantum conatus nostros tardabat condiscipulorum livor ac malignitas, tantum eos provehebat in- situm mihi a natura infinitum illud discendi desiderium.' . . P. D. Huet. Com. de Rebus suis, p. 14, 15. The sufferings of the thoughtful, studious school-boy, it appears, have always been the same.
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training-school, he contrived, without becoming a boxer, to assert, and maintain his independence. To observe, and discriminate, the characters of his school-fellows, was, at this period, his fa vourite solitary exercise. His mature estimate of the seminary itself will be judged of by this, that he considered the best circumstance about it to be, that every morning, immediately after leaving their beds, the boys all plunged into the stream of the Liffey, which bounded the garden. It should not be omitted, that these morning ab lutions, on one occasion, nearly cost him, and two of his companions, their lives ; they having, unawares, got into deep water ; whence, by timely and unexpected aid, they were narrowly, and most providentially rescued, when at the point of drowning.
At Celbridge, jointly with a school- fellow, he wrote, what they called, 'The adventures of Thomas Curtis, and John Jebb.' They supposed themselves great travellers and voyagers, who, at length, were cast on a desert island. It was, of course, a childish imitation of the manner of De Foe. By some means, the manuscript fell into the master's hands ; and he rewarded their young imaginative effort, by giving a holiday to the whole school.
In December, 1788, it was determined by his
BISHOP JEBB. 21
brother (whose first act, on succeeding to the property of Sir Richard Jebb, was to take upon himself the charge of his education,) that he should remove from Celbridge, to the endowed diocesan school of Londonderry. The letter announcing this change, was read by him with unmixed delight. From uncongenial association, and incompetent instruction, he was now about to pass into circumstances directly the reverse ; under the care of the Rev. Thomas Marshall, A. M., then master of Derry School. His view of a change to him so important, bearing, as it did, upon his whole future life, can be done justice to only in the Bishop's own words.
' My removal to Derry School, I cannot but consider as altogether providential. It has had a special influence on the whole colour of my life ; on my studies, habits, and pursuits : it has been the means of bringing me acquainted with persons, whom I should not otherwise have known ; of introducing me to those, who have since been the chosen friends of my life, . . my patrons, and my companions ; some of whom have never seen, and probably never may see, the city of Londonderry. The choice of the school for me was very remarkable. It was by no means a large school ; the number of boarders not exceeding twelve or fourteen : it had not any
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name, beyond its own immediate district ; and, even within that district, the majority of the gentry preferred sending their children to larger, and more eminent foundations : it was 112 miles distant from Dublin, and upwards of 70 from any of my friends or connections. The single reason for sending me there was, that the master had been a college intimate of my cousin Mr. M°Cormick ; and, to this day, it seems mysterious to me, that this small circumstance should have outweighed the numerous objections, which seemed to lie against this plan ; that, on this account alone, my brother should have sent me to the northern extremity of the kingdom. With Derry, I had no natural connection ; and, at Derry, I became known to an individual, whose early notice of me determined much of the future destiny of my life/ *
* Nearly nine years subsequently to the date of this extract Prom a MS. note-book, the Bishop thus commemorates his connection with Derry School, and with the admirable and eminently-gifted individual above alluded to. . . ' I cannot help mentioning, that, at this school, I was edu cated, under the Rev. Thomas Marshall, A.M. This kind and generous man was the delight of his pupils : and I never shall forget the tragic im pression made on us all, when, about the autumn of 1790, it pleased God to remove him. How much I am indebted to his fostering care, I shall never, in this world, be fully able to appreciate. One of my earliest efforts, was a boyish, but sincere tribute to his memory : it was an imitation of the < Quis desiderio, &c.' of Horace. . .But, to Derry School, and to Horace, I have other, and far higher obligations. They were the means of introducing me to the notice of Alexander Knox, Esquire, who *a» fond of hearing me repeat my lessons from that most felicitous of
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The whole scene and system of Derry School were new life to him. The master was a man of considerable talents ; respectably, though not profoundly learned; a professed wit, and not always prudent in the exercise of his humorous propensities ; attentive to the instruction of his boys in school, and, out of it, their friend, their companion, and not infrequently their play-fellow ; severe to those only, who were incorrigibly idle, or ill-conditioned ; and ever anxious to en courage those, who paid attention to their busi ness. ' He possessed,' says his pupil, ' great simplicity, manliness, and generosity of nature ; we all loved him ; and, for my own part, as he favoured me with a special share of his kindness, I felt towards him, as I would towards a near and dear relation. At one time I was guilty of a fault, for which I deserved the severest pun ishment he could inflict *; and he did inflict
authors ; he afterwards became my guide, philosopher, and friend. From him, in the course of a long intimacy, I derived principles, which I trust will never die. Obiit, eheu ! Jun. 17. 1831. J. L.' , . Biograph. Mem. of William Phelan, D.D., ap. Phelan's Remains, Vol. 1. p. 33, note . Mr. Knox's impression respecting the providential character of their connection, was equally strong : see Thirty Years' Correspond. Vol. II. p. 375.
* At Celbridge school he was once punished, for what he considered * a great fault :' it was a hurt accidentally given to one of his schoolfellows, who had used insulting and provoking language to him, while they were dressing ; and whom he struck on the hand with his waistcoat, which he was at the moment putting on : one of the metal buttons, happening to
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it : he did not flog me, he never did : on this occasion, he gravely and sorrowfully said, ' I will not speak to you for three days.' While under this interdict, I recollect, as if it were but yes terday, his meeting me ; and when he passed me by, with a silence that had more in it of melan choly than of sternness, I was cut to the heart. Poor Marshall knew how to act on human nature : with such a master, one could not but make some progress.'
In his own judgment, indeed, the radical de fects of his first schooling were by no means cured ; but, notwithstanding every disadvantage, he was enabled to hold on with the foremost of his class. One error in his training, when at Derry, he ever after deeply regretted : he suc ceeded first in persuading himself, and then in persuading his master, that he felt an insuperable difficulty in committing tasks to memory : the consequence was, that, instead of being exercised, he was indulged ; he was often permitted to slur over a lesson, or a repetition, in the greek dia lects ; and his slowness in getting by heart,
light on the boy's hand, caused a great swelling. The injury was acci dental ; but, as the blow was given in passion, he felt, at the time, that it deserved the severest censure. And, immediately after, he thanked the master, before his schoolfellows, for the severe punishment which he had inflicted; declaring, with perfect sincerity, and from his heart, that ' he knew it was for his good.'
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which, at that time, by proper exertion and perseverance, might have been effectually over come, was suffered to grow into a rooted habit.
The boys were weekly practised, in translating passages of Virgil, or Horace, into English verse : from these exercises, he derived considerable advantage. The verses, as mostly happens with such school-boy performances, were commonly worse than middling ; but the practice gave him an early taste for composition ; and he attained, by it, some copiousness, and choice of words. Another circumstance, connected with this school, was not without its influence. Derry, at that period, possessed several persons of lively talents, who delighted in ' a keen encounter of their wits ; ' among whom was Mr. Marshall. At his table, (where they always dined), and in their times of recreation, the boys, in consequence, were ac customed to have much literary talk ; and often to see, or to hear repeated, the sportive squibs of the day: a kind of experience, not, perhaps, in all respects, desirable for boys, but manifestly tending to form and sharpen their intellects. Mr. Marshall himself, it has been already intimated, was a wit ; he was also an epigrammatist, and a satirist. The conversation of his pupils, out of school-hours, naturally, and often, turned on such subjects* They frequently passed their evenings
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with him ; and he encouraged them to talk, and to inquire, as men. These opportunities were not lost on John Jebb. They gave him, unawares, a decided literary taste.
His habits, while at Derry, were in character with the turn of his mind. He disliked school- plays in general : but a quiet walk into the coun try, with one or two companions, he enjoyed. The play-ground attached to the school was ex ceedingly limited ; and the boys, out of school- hours, had the free range of the town and its vicinity ; a liberty which, as he justly observed, ought not to have been granted ; and which, he expressed his fear, in some instances, was attended with moral mischief. One consequence, how ever, of the want of play-ground was, that, instead of joining the boys in their rambles and excur sions, John, unexposed to the harassing annoy ances which he had so severely suffered under at Celbridge, commonly occupied the window-seat, at a corner of the boarders' parlour : seated in that retreat, he was quite in his element ; . . his body bent into a bow, his knees up to his chin, and his eyes devouring such books as he could lay hold of.
While thus indisposed, however, to the boyish pastimes of his companions, it appears, from a testimony incidentally borne to him by his master, that he was anything but insensible to their wants
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and feelings, when they needed sympathy. Mr. Marshall observed of him, as a remarkable trait in a school-boy, that, when any boy was sick, Jebb loved to sit with him during play-hours.
In the autumn of 1790, this estimable man was attacked by a malignant fever. The boys were removed during his illness ; and John, being dis tant from home, was kindly invited to the house of a clergyman, whose sons were his school-fel lows, the Rev. Aver ell Daniel. In less than three weeks, Mr. Marshall was no more. His loss was felt by all his pupils, but by none more deeply or lastingly than by John Jebb.
After his master's death, he remained under his successor, till Christmas 1790 ; when, without being in any degree completed, his school edu cation closed.
The following is his own retrospective summary of this part of his course. * On the whole, my school-education was most defective. Altogether, it lasted but four years ; the first two, at Cel- bridge, miserably deficient; when I came to Derry, I had much to unlearn, and almost every thing to learn. In latin, or greek grammar, I never was grounded ; owing to the cause already assigned, a supposed defect in the faculty of memory, the necessary rules were never stored up in my mind. Geography, chronology, and
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prosody, were too generally neglected. Mr. Marshall had plans of improvement in view : his death prevented their execution. But, though not a grounded scholar, I carried away from Derry an awakened .literary taste ; and, if I do not de ceive myself, a thoughtful and introspective mind.' It has been stated, that the number of board ers, at Derry School, never exceeded twelve or fourteen. Yet, within a short space, it sent out some remarkable men, almost all Bishop Jebb's con temporaries : Robert Torrens, now a Judge of the Common Pleas in Ireland : Samuel Kyle, after wards Provost of Trinity College, now Bishop of Cork : Edward Chichester, author of an effective work on the excise laws, and of an argumentative defence of revealed religion, in three volumes, now Rector of Kilmore, in the diocese of Armagh : Hugh George Macklin, an able, though eccentric man, late Advocate-General at Bombay. Mr. Justice Torrens' brother, Sir Henry, was not, it is believed, a pupil of Mr. Marshall. But, from so small a society, within a space of four years, we have here a remarkable list of distinguished pupils.*
* In the summer of 1825, Bishop Jebb accomplished an excursion, which, in his wishes, had been projected many years previous, to revisit the several places where he had lived, in infancy and boyhood. He had often expressed a desire to show these localities, to the companion of his Abington life and studies. In the course of this excursion, his father's house at Drogheda, in which he was born, being one of a range of three
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The interval between December 1790, when he left school, and July 1791, when he entered college, was considered by Mr. Jebb a marked period in his mental history. Though apparently idle, and certainly desultory, in these six or seven months, he was yet conscious to himself of a rapid intellectual progress. The advance, most probably, was owing to the favourable, and con genial circumstances, in which he now found himself placed. ' I was now under the roof of my good and generous brother ; who, from before my leaving Celbridge, had defrayed all my expences at school ; and who continued to maintain me as a gentleman in college, till the autumn of 1796, when my poor father died, and when I completed my 21st year. My brother then made over to me 2000/., in lieu of my share of my father's property, which I am confident was not worth 1200/. To this good brother, I owe my education, my rank in society, and myself. To me and to my sisters he
or four handsome brick houses, on the bank of the river Boyne ; the house at Leixlip, to which, after Alderman Jebb's commercial misfortunes, the family removed from Drogheda, and whence he was sent to his first school, . . a good house, adjoining the bridge of Leixlip, and considerably below the level of the road ; and the site (now a public market) where once stood the Free-school of Londonderry, the dwelling of his favourite master, Mr. Marshall, and the scene of his only happy school-boy days, . . were successively pointed out with animated interest : an interest, perhaps, heightened (though nothing of the kind was apparent) by the silent con sciousness, that the child who had once inhabited these retired dwellings, through the guidance of a gracious Providence had not lived in vain.
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was a parent, when our own was sinking under infirmities, bodily and mental ; almost deprived of sight ; and, at times, labouring under a partial aberration of his faculties.'
In July 1791, Mr. Jebb entered College. He obtained the first January premium, the most honourable of the year. His competitor, Alex ander Bradford, was an excellent scholar. It is doubtful whether they ever met again in the same division : but Mr. Jebb always spoke of him, as far superior to himself in the College course. Some people object to the principle of emulation, in schools and colleges. He was strongly of the opposite opinion : his own ex perience having taught him, that emulation may exist, without bitterness or heart-burning. In deed, his own case may be taken as an instance in point : at his next examination, his competitor was John William Reid, who afterwards became his most intimate friend. Mr. Reid was the suc cessful candidate. That day, after dinner, Mr. Jebb's father, as was the fashion of the time, gave him as a toast, his tutor Mr. Magee. * Now, John,' said he, ' give your toast ; and let me see that you match your tutor.' . . ' I will give you, Sir,' was his reply, ' Mr. Reid, who beat me to day.' He said this quite from the heart, and took no credit for having done so ; it being his
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conviction, that multitudes have felt, and do feel, just in the same way.
Throughout his under-graduate course, he was not greatly solicitous for College honours. He applied less than many of his contemporaries to the prescribed books. He obtained, notwith standing, his full share of examination premiums, one in each year. At the regular time, also, he obtained a scholarship ; and in the most cre ditable manner, with a best mark from each ex aminer.* From the Board, (the governing body of the University of Dublin, composed of the Provost and Senior Fellows,) he received three premiums, for composition in English verse t ;
* A sketch of Bishop Jebb's life, published, in the first instance, anony mously, bore, in the part, especially, which relates to his College days, so strong internal marks of being derived from contemporary authority, as to induce me to ask a permission, which has been kindly granted, to quote it with the author's name. 1 have increased pleasure, accordingly, in quoting it as drawn up by W. C. Taylor, LL. D. . . ' He entered the Dublin University in 1791, and almost immediately became distinguished as a sound and elegant scholar. This was the golden age of the Univer sity : never was there a period in its history, when science and polite literature were so ardently cultivated, and so closely united. Among his contemporaries, . . Jebb shone not the least conspicuous : he won the honours of the University nobly, and he wore them unenvied ; for his amiable temper, his kind heart, and his utter disregard of self, had en deared him to all. His success at the scholarship examination, seemed to be a personal triumph by every member of the University, but himself.'
t On one of these occasions, it was proposed (I think by the late Dr. Browne, afterwards Prime Sergeant) to increase the prize, from 20s. to 51., on account of the uncommon merit of the prize poem. The proposition was overruled, on the singular plea, that it would multiply compositions of equal excellence.
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and two medals, also for composition in English verse, from the Historical Society. Meantime, he read much, and miscellaneously ; and, in con junction with some chosen friends, exercised him self on points of criticism (a branch of study for which he had shown an early turn), and in English prose composition. Latin composition, whether in prose or verse, being little in request, he very seldom practised : and to greek composition, he professed himself a total stranger.
While an under-graduate of the university, Mr. Jebb was in the habit of taking long walks ; the only kind of exercise to which he was ever partial. He often mentioned to me the strong moral impression made upon his mind, when about seventeen, in one of these pedestrian excursions, . . a solitary walk from Drogheda to Rosstrevor, over the lofty Car- lingford mountain, . . when, on gaining the heath-clad summit, the beautiful valley and bay of Rosstrevor, opening into Saint George's Chan nel, burst suddenly upon his view. The im pression of the moment has fortunately been preserved, in his own words ; having been embodied, nearly twenty years after (1810), in the following passage of a sermon upon St. Luke, xix. 5.
' In all the nobler works of man, the sublimity
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and beauty of the general effect are invariably proportional, to the fitness and harmonic dis tribution of each particular member. Much more, in the wonderful works of God : for here alone we can turn, with full complacency, from the vast to the minute, from overwhelming grandeur, to exquisite contrivance. Our mind is elevated, and our heart is cheered, by the glory of a summer noon ; but what miracles will the least ray of that light disclose to the philo sophic eye ? We are lost in admiration and delight, after toiling to the summit of a bleak mountain, when extended plains, luxuriant valleys, and the wide ocean, burst at once upon our view ; but, even at such a time, and in such a scene, a religious and well- disciplined imagination would love to trace the finger of Omnipotence, in the simplest flower of the heath, which blooms at our feet.'*
A few months later, when Mr. Jebb was in his eighteenth year, an occurrence of a very different kind, amidst the scene here described, awakened reflections of a still more solemn nature. The event now to be related, was, the common danger and deliverance of himself and his brother, at the quay of Rosstrevor, when on
* Practical Theology, vol. i. pp. 177, 178» VOL. I. D
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the point of perishing by drowning : an escape on which both, to the close of life, looked back with lively gratitude, as seeing and acknow ledging in it the hand of an interposing Pro vidence. The circumstances were as follows. From his brother's house, situated close to the bay, Mr. John Jebb had gone, at a very early hour in the morning, to bathe at the quay of Rosstrevor ; the sloping embankment of which, on the side next the sea, was out of sight from the adjoining road and houses. He had just bathed, and was in the act of dressing, when his brother came, for the same purpose, to the quay. Neither knowing how to swim, Mr. Jebb in quired, whether he might venture into the water, and where? Mr. J. Jebb answered in the af firmative ; and, forgetting that the tide, mean while, had been rising fast, told him that he might safely bathe at the part of the quay, whence he had bathed a quarter of an hour before. Mr. Jebb, accordingly, without hesitation, plunged into the water; but at a point, by this time, wholly beyond his depth. He sank at once under water, rose, clapped his hands, exclaiming, * I am gone!' and immediately sank the second time. His brother, at first, thought him in jest; but seeing him sink again gasping for breath, he instantly leaped in after him, in his dressing-gown
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as he was ; and, as the drowning man rose for the second time, clasped him in his arms. The brothers now went down together, rose, (Mr. Jebb grasping his brother so closely, as to pre clude all effort,) sank again; when, on their rising once more, the elder senseless, the younger nearly exhausted, a maid-servant appeared on the quay, who came, at this unusual hour, to fill a vessel with salt-water : . . with instant presence of mind, she untied her apron ; held one corner fast, and flung the other to Mr. John Jebb ; he had just strength left to grasp it, and their de liverer drew them to shore. Another moment . . and the brothers must have perished in each other's arms! Mr. Jebb's gratitude to Provi dence was appropriately expressed, by a liberal pension for life to the instrument of their pre servation.
Though familiar with the Bishop's account of this wonderful deliverance, I had never heard any allusion to the subject from his brother; and was, consequently, unaware of the profound impression, which it had made and left in his mind, until the occurrence of a fatal calamity (the death of a nephew, Mr. John McCormick, caused by the bursting of a swivel, when out boating near this very quay,) called forth the expression of what had always lain treasured in
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grateful remembrance. His letter to the Bishop on this mournful occasion (December, 1829,) vividly described the mingled emotions with which, to use, as nearly as I can give them, his own words, . . < I stood to see the dead body of our nephew landed at that very spot, where, more than five and thirty years before, by the mercy of Providence, you and I were rescued from a watery grave !'*
* Since writing this passage of the Life, I have been favoured by my friend the Rev. John Jebb, with the following extract from a MS. Jour nal, found after his father Judge Jtbb's death, among his papers. His account of their escape, in his own words, cannot be withheld from the reader. It was written immediately after the shock received by the loss of his nephew.
' December 14th, 1829. While it pleased Providence, for its own wise purposes, thus suddenly to take off this young man, and thus deeply to afflict this poor family, let me adore His goodness, in sparing the lives of my two sons, (Richard and Thomas, who were in the boat with their cousin) : let me ever be thankful for this signal instance of his bounty, so plentifully bestowed upon me through my whole life ; and let it produce its proper fruits, . . a never-failing sense of his mercy, an unshaken re liance on his wisdom, a patient resignation to his divine will, and a thorough and lasting amendment of my life, of my actions, and my thoughts.
' There is a most striking parallel between the preservation of my sons, and the escape of my brother and myself, at nearly their age, and nearly on the same spot. I was bathing, and had got out of my depth, not knowing how to swim; after struggling some time in the water, my brother, who was on shore, leapt in in his clothes, and supported me for some time ; but he did not know how to swim either, and we should both have been drowned, but for a providential and unusual circumstance. The place was the back of the quay, a shelving bank of large stones, screened from view by the quay wall ; so that we had little chance of being seen, or our cries heard. One of our maids providentially had come down to get some sea-water, and seeing persons bathing, as she sup-
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It would be to leave the record of (what may fitly be called) these family providences, imper fect, were I to omit mentioning, that, in the year 1824, I was the means of saving this nephew from drowning, after he had sunk twice, at the same quay of Rosstrevor, on the very spot where his uncles had all but perished : the accident was owing to the same cause, his plunging, unguard edly, into deep water.
About this period (1793), there were many plans for Mr. Jebb's destination in life. The linen busi ness in the north of Ireland was spoken of: mer cantile business in Drogheda : medicine : the bar: the army. He began to read for a fellowship in
posed, turned back ; but thinking she heard a cry, returned, and seeing our struggles, got along the rocks, let herself down to the bank, and was able to get hold of my brother's hand ; and having cried out, at first see ing our danger, persons then came to our assistance, and we were saved. I was nearly exhausted ; my sight was gone ; and my hearing and under standing nearly gone. I suppose I had fully experienced what it is to be drowned. The mental suffering was the keenest; a crowd of thoughts, .. the affliction of my family, the loss of life, the separation from all I knew, the nearness of the shore, the impossibility of reaching it, vexation at dying in such a way, the taking my brother with me ; all these ideas passed through my mind. But, when I was taken up, thought was nearly over, though I was not insensible. It was in the morning, before breakfast ; and, being desirous of concealing it from my father, I went to church, (it was on a Sunday) but was very ill in consequence. The maid-servant is still alive, and has a small annuity from me.
' Our lives were preserved, I trust for good. . . My brother probably saved my life on this occasion. We have ever been of help to each other. May my sons in this also resemble us.'
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Trinity College ; but, after one term, and one long vacation, devoted to arithmetic and analytics, he (as he afterwards thought, happily) desisted ; partly from disrelish, partly from delicate health ; against the earnest remonstrances of his tutor, Mr. Magee. This eminent man was his at tached friend ; and offered him, on this occasion, the use of all his mathematical papers. He con tinued (as will hereafter more fully appear) his pupil's friend through life ; although, for more than twenty years, without opportunities of keeping friendship alive by intercourse. Among the many fine qualities of Archbishop Magee, the steadiness of his friendships, perhaps, stands foremost. In the decay of body and mind (the price of his arduous labours), which clouded his setting sun, his last act of volition, almost of life, bore affecting testimony to the ruling dis position of the heart : it was to draw a check, with his own hand, for 501 . ; being his Grace's contribution to the fund raised, by the personal exertions of Bishop Jebb, then as broken in bodily health as his old tutor in mental, for the relief of the destitute widow, and orphan daugh ters, of the lamented WILLIAM PHELAN.
Among the plans of life alluded to, all ori ginating with his brother, the idea of the army as his profession, seemed, at one time, to pre-
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dominate. His brother proposed his raising a company, in a new regiment then about to be embodied ; and, by so doing, setting out in'mili- tary life with the rank of captain. The sug gestion, however, was merely made, and at once put aside ; the turn of Mr. John Jebb's mind, even at that early period, leading him strongly in another direction.
6 My own hankering,' he writes, *was always after the church. My brother said, ' You will live and die a curate.' This, however, did not deter me.'
In the first two years of his college life, he published several poems in the Anthologia Hi- bernica ; a periodical journal, of considerable merit, printed in Dublin. These were his first literary efforts. During the latter half of his under graduate, and the earlier part of his bac calaureate course, a close society of six members was formed, by him and five contemporaries ;* who often breakfasted, dined, and supped, at each other's chambers. Literature was the great bond of their union : they read together works of criticism, and belles lettres ; composed little essays ; and mingled, in agreeable variety, the playful with the serious. They were nick-
* Messrs. Reid, Sargint, Macklin, Sandiford, Kinshella (now Attorney General of New South Wales), and Jebb.
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named, by those who did not like their pursuits, and perhaps a little envied their college name and popularity, ' The Literati. ' The name, which was originally affixed in dull sarcasm, ad hered to them in sober earnest ; and, as names are often influential, it had its use in stimulating the possessors to deserve it.
In 1796, on Shrove Tuesday, Mr. Jebb com menced A. B. ; and remained in college a resi dent graduate, till the summer vacation of 1799, when his scholarship expired, and he was of master's standing. These last three years, he accounted the most useful of his collegiate life. Making every deduction for lost time, and remiss application, during this period, on the whole, his studies were progressive ; his mind gained strength ; he formed many valuable intimacies ; and he began to apply seriously to theological pursuits.
In the summer vacation, 1796, for the first time, he visited England, on a pedestrian tour ; accompanied by two college friends, whom he characterizes as ' the highly-gifted John William Reid, and the eccentric Hugh George Macklin.' Appearing in the questionable shape of Irish strollers, they, not unnaturally, apprehended that the civil authorities might chuse to make inquiry, at a period of general alarm about the state of
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Ireland, into their real character and objects. They, therefore, armed themselves, not with deadly weapons, but with certificates under the broad seal of the city of Dublin, signed by the lord mayor. These municipal vouchers, how ever, they never had occasion to produce, ex cept for the amusement of their friends. Upon this tour, they carried with them all necessary changes of linen, &c., in two knapsacks ; a violin, in a canvass bag, was slung, by turns, on the shoulders of him who escaped, for the day, a knapsack ; a flute was in the pocket of Mr. Macklin ; Mr. Reid played well on the violin ; and, wherever they went, among the peasantry, the farmers, and the gentry, ' the concord of sweet sounds 9 proved acceptable. ( Never,' observes Mr. Jebb, * did I experience from all classes, more genuine hospitality ; and, what ever may have been the experience of others, for myself, and for my friends, with whom, on this and on other occasions, I have crossed the Irish Channel, I must say, that we ever found the hearts, the houses, and (had it been neces sary) the purses, also, of Englishmen open to us. With them, performance always outgoes profession : what a man finds them now, unless it be his own fault, he will infallibly find them ten years hence : win them once, and you have them always.'
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Among other curiosities, the travellers visited the celebrated Dr. Darwin, whose * Botanic Garden' had many attractions for Mr. Jebb's youthful fancy ; and retained its place, until his ripening judgment was revolted, by the vicious splendour of the versification. By this singular man, they were hospitably received ; and found his conversation interesting, unless when tinc tured by his infidelity. From his society, they brought away much exemplary warning, some useful information, and one good repartee. Dr. Darwin, it is well known, was a great stammerer : a tactless guest broadly noticed the defect, remarking, « It is a pity, Dr. Darwin, that you stutter so much.' ' No, Sir,' rejoined the doctor, (doing ample justice to his impediment as he spoke) ' I consider it an advantage : it teaches me to think, before I speak.9
The concluding anecdote of this tour, a prac tical comment on his eulogy of the hospitality of England, deserves to be recorded in Bishop Jebb's own words. . . ' One little anecdote I cannot suppress. We crossed over from Ports mouth, to Cowes, in the Isle of Wight. In the evening, we went to Newport in a stage coach, with another and unknown gentleman for our companion. There we passed a few hours together ; and the next morning, after breakfast ing at the same table, 'proceeded to Yarmouth ;
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we on foot, and our new acquaintance on horse back. There, after an early dinner, we were to part, and we parted with mutual regret; but not till our companion earnestly requested that we would favour him with our company, at his house in Berkshire, for a fortnight ; where he would try to make the country as agreeable to us as he could. I expressed the regret of our trio, that we could not avail ourselves of his great kindness ; being limited in point of time. Our friend (for such he proved himself) blushed, hesitated, and at length with difficulty faltered out, . . ' Gentlemen, I beg pardon . . I am about to take a great liberty . . but, perhaps, there may be some other limitation.' And then, drawing forth a large and well-filled pocket-book, . . * May I intreat,' said he, ' that you will indulge me, by accepting any sum for which you may have occa sion : you can pay it at your leisure, on your return to Ireland.' . . I, being the purse-bearer, was able to escape his kind solicitations, only by giving ocular demonstration, that we had suffi cient resources : and we parted, never, in this world, to meet again. His name was ALEXAN DER VINER, a dealer in hops, resident near Hungerford, Berks.'
Within a few days after Mr. Jebb's return to Dublin, he was afflicted by the death of his good
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old father ; who was removed to a better world, in the 76th year of his age. ' I never,' writes his son, ' knew a more innocent human being : he was * an Israelite indeed, in whom was no guile/ His devotion was fervent. It was, indeed, his great support, under many and great afflictions. He may be said to have ' prayed without ceasing.' For many years I slept in his bed-chamber : and often, when he thought himself unnoticed by all, but ' HIM who seeth in secret,' I have witnessed his devout ejacu lations. He was particularly fond of repeating some of the Psalms. In using the Liturgy, he never could join in the prayer of our Litany against ' sudden death : ' he was in the habit of substituting the word ' unprovided : ' and he often told me it was his wish, if it might be God's will, that he should be removed suddenly. His wish was graciously answered. One evening, in November, 1796, he was in a most happy, placid, and even cheerful frame of mind ; he ate a moderate supper with relish ; and, at bed- time, took leave of his daughters with marked affection. Before morning, he was no more ; an apoplectic seizure came on ; and, shortly after his daughters came to his bed-side, he expired without seeming consciousness, with out a struggle, a pang, or a groan. To me, he
BISHOP JEBB. 45
was ever a fond parent. I have often bitterly re gretted, that I did not always bear his infirmities as I ought. May this, and the other sins of my youth, be forgiven ! I cannot help placing before me, at this moment, the atonement made by JOHNSON, for an act of undutifulness, to the memory of his dead father/ *
At Christmas 1796, took place the abortive invasion at Bantry Bay. Immediately after this alarming demonstration, the students of Trinity College were embodied into a corps ; of which, till the suppression of the Rebellion of 1798, Mr. Jebb was an active and influential member.
His military duties, however, did not relax his mental energy. In Trinity Term, 1797, he obtained the first prize for a composition in divinity, the subject, the Divine Attributes ; and the second prize for reading the Liturgy, on the foundation of Dr. Downes.
In 1798, he was bereft, successively, of his two most valued and intimate friends, Reid and Sargint. To these interesting young men, who had been among its chief ornaments, the Histo rical Society wished to pay a tribute of affec tionate remembrance ; and Mr. Jebb, accordingly,
* MS. notes, March, 1823.
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was invited to address the Society from the chair, in a speech upon the characters and deaths of their departed friends. His speech was printed by desire of the Society, and passed through two editions.
I borrow with pleasure, from Dr. Taylor's communication already cited, the following ac count of the occasion and effect. ' These were the days of the Historical Society, of which society Mr. Jebb was a distinguished member ; and the charms of his eloquence are still among the pleasant reminiscences of his contemporaries. One only of his addresses has been preserved ; it was delivered from the chair of the Society, on the occasion of the death of two young men, Reid and Sargint, youths of high promise, cut off at the moment that the hopes and anticipations of their friends seemed about to be realized. Si milarity of dispositions and pursuits had united them to Jebb, in the strictest bonds of affection ; and he who had to pronounce their funeral eulogy, was the person who felt their loss most bitterly. No stranger can read this simple and pathetic ad dress, without being affected ; but those alone who heard it, can picture the effect that its delivery produced.'
Upon contemporary and kindred minds, its
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effect, as read, was scarcely less powerful ; as will appear from the following letter, addressed to Mr, Jebb on perusal of the printed speech, which had fallen accidentally into the hands, and is now introduced by the permission, of the distin guished writer, . . Charles Bushe, then a young lawyer, now Lord Chief Justice of Ireland.
|P
' Bagot St. Feb. 20. 1799. 'SIR,
' I TRUST you may not consider me as pre suming too much upon our former slight acquaintance, in thus acknowledging the obliga tion, which the perusal of your late speech in the Historical Society has imposed upon me. I am not vain enough to suppose that the appro bation of so inconsiderable a man, if intended as a complimentary tribute, could be of any value to you. You have earned a general fame, which may protect you from the impertinencies of individual praise, or criticism ; and this private communication is made, merely from a convic tion, which your work has inspired, that you will hear with satisfaction that your memorial of your estimable friends has been read with interest and sympathy.
1 Such early worth, and mature intellect, such virtuous friendship, and congenial fates, are as
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rare as the talent which has preserved the remembrance of them. I write to you in the moment that I have ceased to contemplate the affecting picture which you have exhibited; and when my feelings are too recent and warm, to suffer me to suppose that they are peculiar to myself. I cannot doubt that you have excited a general sentiment, of hope from the rising generation, and of regret for departed excel lence ; while the ability you have displayed affords the best consolation for that calamity, by which ' Truth has lost two unwearied advocates, and literature two devoted friends.'
* Believe me, with much respect, yours,
' CHARLES BUSHE.'
The eminent person, to whose indulgence the reader is indebted for the insertion of this testi mony, will, I trust, with equal kindness, pardon a further trespass ; since his Lordship's tribute to the early fame of Bishop Jebb would seem incomplete, without the addition of the seal to that tribute, which he has affixed after the lapse of nearly forty years.
' Dublin, Dec. 6. 1834.
4 DEAR SIR,
' I COULD not refuse you the permission you seek, without being insensible to the honor I
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shall derive, from its being known that Bishop Jebb felt kindly towards me, and that forty years ago I appreciated, in his youth, the worth and talent, which distinguished him in after life, and justify the general regret which his death occa sioned/
It so happened, that, at an earlier hour of the same day, on which Mr. Jebb received the letter just given, an overture had been made to him, by his early friend Mr. Knox, which opened professional prospects of the fairest and happiest kind. Yet these prospects, he ingenuously ac knowledges, came, at the moment, less home to his mind and heart, than the unsought and unex pected eulogy of a man of genius.
As the overture, at this time renewed by Mr. Knox, determined Mr. Jebb's course for life, some notice seems desirable how it originated. In the Spring of 1797, this friend of his school boy days, who, though they seldom met, had never lost sight of him, asked him to breakfast. After some general conversation, he said, ' Mr. Jebb, may I ask, what profession you mean to pursue ? It is not an impertinent curiosity that leads me to make the inquiry.' Mr. Jebb an swered, ' The Church.' Mr. Knox inquired, whether he had any interest ; and was told, in reply, that he had none. * Why, then,' pro- VOL. i. E
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ceeded his friend, ' do you think of the church ? ' his reply was, because he preferred it to any other profession. Mr. Knox, upon this, ob served, that he had some intimacies among the bishops, and thought he could recommend him to one : asking, in conclusion, whether Mr. Jebb would have any objection to his mentioning his name. The offer was most thankfully accepted : when Mr. Knox expressed a wish to see him now and then ; accompanied by the assurance, that he would not forget the conversation which had just passed.
Shortly after, Mr. Knox left Dublin for several months : the Rebellion intervened : he became Secretary to Lord Castlereagh, then Chief Secre tary of Ireland : and Mr. Jebb, not liking to intrude, did not avail himself of his general invitation.
So matters stood, when, in February 1799, the week only before his ordination, he met Mr. Knox in the street. He asked, why he had not called to see him ? and was frankly told the rea son : namely, because his friend knew that he was occupied with more important things, and did not like to intrude. He now inquired, whether Mr. Jebb recollected their conversation in 1797. Being answered that he did perfectly, he resumed by asking, whether he held the same
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mind still, upon the subject of that conversation $ and being informed that he did, said, that he would immediately speak to a bishop, an inti mate friend of his : though he would not mention the bishop's name, desiring, first, to know, how his overture would be received. The next day, he sent for Mr. Jebb, and acquainted him that his friend, who was one of the most excellent of men, would gladly receive him into his dio cese. * He then,' writes my friend, ' named BRODRICK, Bishop of Kilmore ; and pronounced an eulogy worthy of himself, and of that best of prelates.'
At this period, Mr. Jebb formed and cultivated a close intimacy with two individuals, then re sidents, like himself, in Trinity College, in whose society he found, then as afterwards, while differing upon some points, much happiness and improve ment: these friends were, Dr. Stopford, one of the Fellows, and Mr. Dunn, at that time prepar ing to leave the bar for the church, and who had returned to College for the purpose of studying divinity. The former of these chosen associates, who passed before him to his rest, he lived him self to commemorate : of the survivor, delicacy forbids me to state his high estimate ; and I shall venture only to breathe a wish, which will be responded to by very many, that he may long be
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spared to his generation, a living example of what manner of men they were, who are gone to their reward.
On the 24th of February, 1799, Mr. Jebbwas ordained deacon, by Dr. Young, Bishop of Clon- fert (a name well known to science), who had been always kind to him ; and whose reply to the application made to him on this occasion was, that he would ordain him with pleasure, and without any title, for he knew he would prove an ornament to the church ; adding an expression of regret, that the poverty of his patronage did not authorize him to invite Mr. Jebb into his own diocese.
Dr. Hall, afterwards Provost, and for one week Bishop of Dromore, was the examiner. Some one having mentioned, in the presence of Dr. Graves, that Mr. Jebb was nervously apprehensive about the examination, that good and learned man observed, that the author of the speech on the death of Reid and Sargint, could have no just cause for apprehension : adding that, were he Jebb's examiner, he would present him for holy orders, without further inquiry, upon the strength of that speech.
His own feelings, on this solemn occasion, he thus describes : ' On the day of my ordination, I had, I trust, a solemn sense of what I was
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doing. The ordination sermon of Mr. (after wards Dean) Graves, affected me even to tears. Would that I had ever after undeviatingly felt, as I felt during that hour ! Too many were or dained that day : an amiable facility was a foible of the great-minded, and simple-hearted, Bishop Young.'
The day after his ordination, he was sent for by Dr. Ellington, then one of the senior Fellows of Trinity College, and subsequently his prede cessor in the see of Limerick, late Bishop of Ferns. ' Well, Jebb,' said this kindly-hearted man, ' you have now taken orders : do you wish to have something to do in your profession ?' being answered in the affirmative, he proceeded to state, that the Bishop of Ferns (Dr. Cleaver) had de sired him to recommend one or two young men, for curacies in his diocese ; and that, if Mr. Jebb chose to accept it, there was a most eligible cure, in the county of Wexford, at his service. He added more : giving him to understand, that he should be specially under the eye of the Bishop. Mr. Jebb expressed his gratitude, awkwardly as he feared, but good Dr. Elrington, he knew, disregarded little trifles of manner ; and then ex plained his engagement, of but a few days stand ing, with the Bishop of Kilmore. In December,. 1820, when Bishop Elrington went down as.
E 3
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Bishop of Limerick, Mr. Jebb reminded him of his kind offer, nearly twenty-two years before. He, as generous minds will do, had wholly forgotten it ; but recalled the transaction, and assured him * that recommendation would not have ended in smoke,' that Bishop Cleaver would have provided for him amply : adding, ' things, however, are better as they are.'
4 Truly,' is Bishop Jebb's comment on the ob servation, ' they were, unspeakably better : in many respects infinitely superior to every thing of this world, my connection with ALEXANDER KNOX, and CHARLES BRODRICK, was a blessing to me. Hence, grew views, principles, habits, connections, all, I humbly trust, tending towards eternity : while there were links in the chain, which conducted even my worldly prospects higher, than my imagination, or my wishes, ever pointed. Had I commenced under Bishop Clea ver, the whole colour of my life would have been changed : what I might have been, I know not : . . but I would not exchange the results and the re membrance of my connection with Archbishop Brodrick, now a saint in heaven, for the wealth of worlds, enhanced by a reputation growing, if it were possible, from age to age until the end of time.'
At a period, earlier than that which we have
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now reached, he escaped a snare, as he afterwards viewed it, which might have changed the entire character of his pursuits. His friend and tutor Mr. Magee urged him strongly, to enlarge his prize treatise on the Attributes into a volume, and prepare it for publication. Had he complied, as, in deference to his friend's judgment, he, at first, had serious thoughts of doing, it was his belief that he would, in all probability, have become a dry metaphysical controversialist, and a premature author ; wearing out his sap and stamina, by the production of unripe, precocious fruit * ; and, too probably, sacrificing to the vanity of authorship, and the worse vanity of ambition, instead of pur suing quiet studies, and unostentatious duties, in simplicity of heart.
* In his Biographical Memoir of William Phelan, D. D., prefixed to his Remains, the Bishop, like a faithful pilot, indicates the rock, from making shipwreck upon which, he had been himself providentially pre served. . . ' To the world, he was chiefly known as a polemical writer ; indeed it is probable that many of his contemporaries have heard of him in that capacity alone. And, it must be confessed that, hitherto, from un happy circumstances, there has been, in Ireland, but little opportunity, and, if possible, less encouragement, for theological learning. While, under a proper system, and with wise selection, eminent examples of it might have been multiplied, to the unspeakable advantage of both church and country. But, in fact, though some ephemeral stimulus to exertion may have occasionally been applied, it is a melancholy truth, that the flippant pamphlet, and slight brochure, (of merit very different, indeed, from the slightest efforts of Mr. Phelan,) have been generally thought a far more marketable commodity, than any solid work of genius, piety, and learning.' PhelatCs Remains, Vol. I, p. 36. London, 1832.
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Shortly after his ordination, he had yet another, and more remarkable hair-breadth escape of being turned aside from the course, in which the hand of Providence hereafter led him. In May or June, 1799, his friend Dr. Stopford acquainted him, that,- under the will of the late Primate Robinson (Lord Rokeby), who had bequeathed 10, GOO/, in furtherance of the plan, Government was about to found a new College (whether to be an university, or under the mother university, he did not know) at Armagh ; that the choice of the first three Fellows on the foundation, was entrusted to the then Lord Primate (Newcome); that the primate had delegated the selection to his brother-in-law Dr. Stock, Bishop of Killala ; that the Bishop had requested him, Dr. Stopford, to nominate one Fellow ; and that he, from the opinion which he had of Mr. Jebb's character, was desirous, if it should meet his approbation, to recommend him. Mr. Jebb stated his en gagement with the Bishop of Kilmore ; and asked leave to confer with Mr. Knox on the subject. This leave obtained, he immediately stated the offer to Mr. Knox, and left the matter entirely to his decision. Mr. Knox told him not to he sitate ; assuring him, at the same time, that his appointment at Armagh, should imply no bar to his prospects in Kilmore. For about three weeks,
BISHOP JEBB. 5?
accordingly, he enjoyed the prospect of being honorably distinguished, as one of the earliest instruments in a work, which was to diffuse liter ature and science through the north of Ireland : and perhaps, ultimately, to attach the leading members of its presbyterian population, to the doctrine and discipline of the church of England. But these aspiring hopes were soon checked. For certain reasons, which it is unnecessary to par ticularize, the plan was dropt. ' I still,' to give Bishop Jebb's own reflection on the transaction, ' regard the failure as a public loss : though doubtless, if human weakness could penetrate the depths of providential wisdom, we should clearly perceive, that this, like other public events, was permitted, or over-ruled, for greater good. But, as to the private bearing of this disappoint ment on my own character, and course of life, almost from the year after, I rejoiced in it. And the more I have since reflected, the more deeply grateful have I been, that I escaped the toils of tuition, . . too probably accompanied by the nar rowness, the dryness, the dogmatism, and the self-sufficiency, of a provincial college life.5
At the end of July, 1799, he was invited to accept the curacy of Swanlinbar, in the counties of Cavan and Fermanagh, and diocese of Kilmore. The offer was conveyed in a letter from his friend
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Mr. Knox * ; and within a week he was at his post. The ground- work of his first sermon, was that noble one of Tillotson, . . ' And in keeping of them there is great reward.' He left college, the scene of many busy, many happy hours, with a deep and tender sorrow. He wept bitterly. Nor, from that hour, was he able to migrate from one place of settlement to another, without simi lar emotions.
To Mr. Jebb, Swanlinbar was, in every re spect, a new scene : a position, 'the advantages of which he thus experimentally points out. ' I was there,' he observes, ' a total stranger : which I felt, and still feel, to have been a great advantage. I was there known only as a clergyman ; and passed, with the congregation, as if I had been a practised parish minister and theologian. Young men are apt to wish that they should procure curacies, in the neighbourhood of their friends and connections. This, in the great majority of cases, is a fatal obstacle to clerical exertion. They are idled by friends ; they are paralyzed by false shame ; or, if they are disposed to exert them selves, the boy, and the youth, is more present to the memory of their flocks, than the clergyman. 4 A prophet has no honour in his own country.'
* See Thirty Years' Correspondence between Bishop Jebb and A. Knox, Esq. Letter 1.
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Bishops (and I speak from long observation and experience) ought systematically, and with rare exceptions, to discourage an hereditary local clergy. The tone of a country will seldom, if ever, be raised, by those who have passed their youth in it.'
Swanlinbar, when he commenced his ministry there, was a place of fashionable resort ; its sul phureous waters having had great medical repute. The single resident gentleman, Mr. Gresson, with his family, was particularly kind and hospitable to him. Among the visitors, too, he formed seve ral agreeable acquaintances ; and one invaluable friendship, which remained with him through life. Mr. and Mrs. Peter La Touche, of Bellevue, the friends here alluded to, frequented, at this period, the waters of Swanlinbar : congeniality of dispo sitions soon led, from acquaintance, to intimacy : and in this friendship, and the society of Bellevue, Mr. Jebb, henceforward, found one of his chief sources of social happiness and enjoyment.
The parish of Swanlinbar was extensive ; the protestants were numerous ; and the duties were arduous. A specimen of the latter, is contained in a letter to a friend, dated January 18. 1800. ' 1 began yesterday to write to you, when I was summoned, at no very seasonable hour, to visit a sick parishioner, through snow, and bog, and
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mountain. So disagreeable a walk I never before experienced. Some of the places through which I passed, were nearly impassable ; and, to increase my annoyance, I was obliged to return, partly on foot, partly on horseback, through this bleak and marshy tract, in darkness and intense frost. However, I enjoyed the satisfaction of thinking I was discharging my duty.' The constant re currence of similarly laborious duties, during a service of nearly four years in his first curacy, could hardly fail to affect a naturally susceptible frame. And the first seeds of that ill-health, which eventually broke down Mr. J ebb's consti tution, may, but too probably, be traced, to hard ships daily encountered, and colds repeatedly caught, while curate of Swanlinbar.
While the foregoing extract gives an idea of the discomforts, the following describes some of the compensatory advantages, of his situation. 4 The doors of my good Bishop were open to me ; and I saw enough to inspire me with love and veneration for his goodness : but I cannot say that, at this period, an intimacy had commenced. One intimacy I did form, . . an invaluable one, , . with the Rev. Henry Woodward, brother-in- law to Bishop Brodrick, and son to Dr. Richard Woodward, late Bishop of Cloyne. From four other clergy of the diocese, I derived profit and
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advantage. 1. The Rev. Mr. Brooke, curate, and finally rector of Ballyconnell ; cousin of the author of ' The Fool of Quality/ and possessing much of the ardent and romantic temperament of his relative : but too convivial, and possessing little human prudence. 2. The Rev. George Forster ; an admirable parish minister, and sin cerely pious man. 3. The Hon. and Rev. William Cole, son of Lord Enniskillen, and rector of Florence Court ; assiduous in every duty as a clergyman, and one of the most amiable of men. He died young, Dean of Waterford. 4. Dr. Hales of Killesandra, whom all the world knows : now, alas ! (1823) bereaved of an intellect, which he had over-worked, conscientiously, learnedly, and oddly. He, at all times, afforded me the hospitality of his board ; and, what was of far greater consequence, the freedom of his study ; where he has often kindly turned from his learned toil, to give advice and instruction to a young, and very imperfectly informed curate.
* But, at this time of my life, I derived more advantage, perhaps, from epistolary, than from living intercourse. I maintained, for a long while, a correspondence with my friend Dr. Stop- ford ; and regret that I did not preserve his letters. I corresponded, also, with Mr. Knox ; whose letters were a treasure of Christian wisdom.
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I have preserved nearly the whole of them ; and to them I have been unspeakably indebted ; though I hold myself awfully accountable to my good God, that the debt has not been greater.'
Among Mr. Jebb's parishioners, there were many Wesleyan methodists. And, although he never concealed from them his differences of opinion, they tolerated, and even loved him. Through the sound advice of Mr. Knox, who had been the personal friend of John Wesley, and by reading many of their founder's works, he learned to conciliate the worthy of this class : and he found many such.
' All this while, however,' is his own retro spective stricture, on this period of his clerical course, * and I would it were restricted to this time, I was far from the true character of the minister of Christ. My religion, I verily believe, was sincere, so far as it went. But it was defec tive in depth, and in extent. And, even according to my own inadequate views, though sincere, I was not consistent. I had not the least con- scientious scruple against playing cards, frequent ing balls, and joining in scenes both of morning and evening dissipation.'
In December, 1799, on the Sunday before Christmas, he received priest's orders, from the hands of the Bishop of Kilmore, together with
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his friend Mr. Woodward, and two others. The candidates had, on the preceding day, undergone a strict and instructive examination, from Dr. Hales, in the Bishop's study and presence.
In 1801, on Shrove tuesday, he graduated as A.M., and, on the following Sunday, at the re quest of his old tutor, preached a sermon on St. Matthew, xiii. 52., from the college pulpit : being his first appearance before a learned audience.
It was about this period, that the Bishop of Kilmore was translated to Cashel. Mr. Jebb's ties with the diocese were now snapt : for, in a conversation which the Bishop kindly held with him, before his own removal, it was settled, that, on the first favourable opportunity, he, also, should remove to the diocese of Cashel.
In 1802, it was suggested by Dr. Magee, who lost no opportunity of bringing his friend and pupil forward, that he ought to preach the annual sermon, before the Lord Lieutenant, and the members of the Dublin Association. The pro posal was submitted by him to Mr. Knox, and to the Archbishop of Cashel ; and approved by both. And, through Mr. KnoxV influence, he was unanimously invited to occupy a post, rendered every year more honourable, by the ability and learning displayed from it ; and which, the preceding year, had been filled, with
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great distinction, by his friend, the Rev. James Dunn.
The sermon was published, as usual, by com mand : while in the course of publication, the author had constant intercourse with Mr. Knox ; the intellectual and religious benefits of which, he felt to be inestimable ; and that more, perhaps, was done to form his habits and principles, in these few months, than in many preceding years.
In the summer of 1803, he passed two or three months at Cahirmone, in the county of Cork, with the Archbishop of Cashel ; ' and here,' he remarks, * I may say, was laid the foundation of my intimacy with that admirable man.'
Shortly before Christmas, he visited his bro ther-in-law, Mr. McCormick, at Lough Brickland, in the county of Down. During this visit, he accompanied him on an excursion to see Bishop Percy, at Dromore. He thus describes his recep tion and his host : ' This learned and accom plished prelate always received me with kindness. His conversation, even in these his declining years, was full of life and animation ; and he was used to pour forth a tide of anecdote, respecting the great Johnsonian and Burkish circle, with which he had lived so much. His habits in pri vate life, though his temper was warm, were particularly amiable. He took delight in culti-
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vating his domain : the improvements were somewhat in the Shenstonian style ; labyrinths, urns, deceptions, an artificial lake, an artificial island : but it would have been inhuman, and was impossible, to accompany the kind old man in his walks, and see him point out his favourite objects, without interest and complacency. He had tame wild ducks on his lake, which he daily fed, from his pocket, with corn : they knew him, and flocked about him/
Immediately after Christmas, he received a summons to join the Archbishop at Cashel, who had now a curacy ready for him ; that of Magor- ban, a parish of his own, in the neighbourhood of Cashel ; where there never before had been a curate, and where he was to officiate in a private house, Beechmount, the seat of the late John Godfrey, Esq.
But, before we enter on his Cashel life, it will be proper to introduce his own preliminary ob servations, as they stand in one of his note books.
* On the most deliberate review, I cannot help seriously thinking, that, in the year of interval between my residences, at Swanlinbar and at Cashel, there was a strictly providential appointment. From what I have already said, a change in my views and habits was essential to
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my progress, as a Christian, and as a minister. But, had this change taken place while I remained in the diocese of Kilmore, it could scarcely fail to be remarked by my associates ; it must, in all likelihood, have drawn down upon me the name of methodist, or enthusiast ; and such a name, must have impeded me, in my particular walk of usefulness : nor is it improbable, that it might, ultimately, have thrown me into the hands, in pure self-defence, of persons sectarian in their views ; and so have made me what I was called. On the other hand, had this change taken place after my removal to Cashel, it must have been attended with all the above disadvantages ; and with this, in addition, that, by my not showing, at Cashel, qualis ab incepto, I might have failed of whatever beneficial influence attaches to stea diness of character ; and might, in many respects, have embarrassed, rather than assisted, the good Archbishop. How advantageous, then, the year of interval. In this period, I gradually, naturally, and by the joint influence of conversation, read ing, and solitary thought, threw off many of my old views and habits. Inch by inch I fought my ground : but, in a few months, I gave up dancing, card-playing, and the theatre; not, I humbly conceive, on narrow sectarian grounds, but on solid, rational, and even philosophical principles.
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As I said, I fought my way ; I yielded only to ratiocinative and moral conviction ; and whatever inconsistencies, incongruities, and aberrations there were in other respects, (may God, of his great mercy, forgive them !) in these palpable, and, as I am deeply satisfied, most important matters, there was not, from January 1804, any wavering. There may have been progress after wards (that it has been small, and, in many particulars, scarcely, if at all, perceptible, I am deeply humbled to reflect), but there was no marked visible change : the testimony of my private conversation, my public teaching, and my observable habits, has been uniformly con sistent ; and I hope I have, however imperfectly, yet sincerely and honestly sought, in these things, the glory of my heavenly Master.'
Mr. Jebb's new sphere, was materially different from his old one. The smallness of his parish, and the consequent lightness of his parochial duties, gave him ample time for study. His own collection of books was increasing apace ; and, at Cashel, he had the command of the noble public library, bequeathed to the diocese by Archbishop Bolton, and preserved from ruin by the care, and at the expense, of Archbishop Brodrick.
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His habits of study were peculiar. Desultory in appearance, his reading was systematized by his turn for arrangement : his mind, almost instinctively, forming loci communes, to which he could refer his scattered information. While by no means insensible to its defects, he thus remarks upon the advantages of this method. ' I have often thought, that they, who appear most systematic, are commonly the least so. He, for example, who makes it a point to study books right forward, and to bottom, and treasure up the principles of each individual author, is in danger of giving himself up, by turns, to his master volumes ; and of throwing, without ar rangement, into the common receptacle of his brain, a jargon of contradictory systems. He, on the other hand, who reads here a little, and there a little, must find or make some system for himself: this is indispensable, in self-defence, if the man is willing and able to think at all : and thus, amidst seeming dispersion, there is habitual concentration ; amidst apparent confusion, there is essential regularity and order/
'Were this train of thought/ he continues, ' pursued through all its details and ramifications, wre might possibly discern why it is, that so many voluminous readers, are miserable thinkers : why
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so many, who have known almost every thing knowable, have been disqualified from giving a rational view of their attainments/
During Mr. Jebb's residence at Cashel, while his intercourse with Mr. Knox was kept up by periodical visits to Dublin, his correspondence with him became more frequent, and more in structive, than it had previously been. His situ ation, at the same time, was attended by this additional advantage, that while, from books, and from this incomparable friend, he was himself continually imbibing principles of moral and reli gious truth,, .from intercourse with many respect able clergymen, some his juniors in years, and all his inferiors in knowledge, he had constant op portunity of orally communicating, what he was daily acquiring or excogitating. In thus trying to teach others, he was certainly teaching him self. These unpremeditated prelections served to rivet in his mind, both information and prin ciples ; and greatly enhanced the interest of his correspondence with Mr. Knox. He told his friend, in return for his rich original communi cations, what he collected from books ; what he thought in his chambers ; and what he observed in living intercourse. Much of what was thus acquired and made his own, he felt, indeed, to be imperfect, if not erroneous : but the feeling was
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accompanied by a consciousness, that his un fledged wings were growing ; and that he was gaming strength for steadier, and more continued flights.
In July 1805, he was appointed rector of Kiltinane ; a non-cure then of 250/. annual value. It left him still resident at Cashel ; and, in place of parochial duty, the Archbishop called him to the office of cathedral preacher. This he felt to be an appropriate, and agreeable sphere. He had abundant leisure for study ; while the diver sity of employment afforded, by occasional visits to the charter school, and the county infirmary ; by catechizing at the cathedral ; and by devising, and helping to execute plans, for the relief of the numerous poor of the town and neighbourhood, was healthful to mind and body. * It was,' he observes, ' a remark often forced upon me, that I found my private studies most successful, while I was most actively engaged in plans of public utility. This lesson, I hope, if it so please God, to carry with me into the bishopric of Limerick.'
While at college, he had been much exercised in drawing up addresses, and in the debates of the Historical Society : hence he had early acquired habits of business, and skill in public discussion. The advantages, in after life, of this
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early training, were felt by others, and acknow ledged by himself. At Cashel, an opportunity of employing his practical readiness to good pur pose, was specially afforded on one particular occasion, the election of a resident apothecary for the county infirmary. Two candidates had offered themselves : the one supported by the Archbishop, the clergy, and the principal inhabit ants ; the other by a party, chiefly composed of non-residents, or of new subscribers, at the head of which was the late Rev. Patrick Hare, formerly vicar-general of the diocese. The contest proved a narrow one, and the right side was actually out-voted; when Mr. Jebb unexpectedly ob jected, to the surprize of all present, that the candidate on the opposite side could not be elected, he being legally disqualified. ' Show me the act of parliament, Sir,' exclaimed Mr. Hare, (who perfectly well knew that Mr. Jebb was right) : « don't tell me of legal disqualifications : your assertion is of no value, where higher evi dence may be had : produce me (he repeated with Johnsonian vehemence) THE ACT OF PAR LIAMENT.' ' Give me,' was the answer, ' half an hour, and I will engage to produce it.' Mr. Hare and the meeting agreed that this was but fair ; and the half hour's adjournment was granted accordingly. Mr. Jebb hastened to the palace ;
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searched the statutes ; found the required Act ; and, within twenty minutes, re-entered the board room of the infirmary, with the volume and Act open in his hand. He placed it before Mr. Hare, as chairman ; who, glancing his eye upon the Act, instantly proceeded, . . * Gentlemen, there is an end of the business : Mr. Jebb is right : here is the Act of Parliament ; and let me see the man who will dare to oppose it ! I give my vote for the candidate whom I came to oppose.' The proper person, accordingly, was elected, without a dissenting voice ; and, from that day, Mr. Hare conceived a respect for Mr. Jebb, which he retained to his death. Speaking, to a brother clergyman, of the county infirmary con- test, he observed, ' I thought, Sir, that Mr. Jebb was a man who knew nothing but his Bible ; but I find I was mistaken ; I find that he is a man of business, and knows more than us all.'
Shortly after the occurrence just related, this singular man took an opportunity of paying to Mr. Jebb, in his own way, the most elegantly turned compliment he ever received : matter and manner, it would have been worthy of Dr. Johnson, in his best and happiest vein. In 1806, Mr. Jebb had preached the Visitation sermon (being his first appearance before the assembled clergy); on which occasion he was publicly
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thanked by the Archbishop for his discourse, and unanimously called upon to print it. After church- service, various clerical friends congratulated him, on the impression which he had made : when Mr. Hare came forward, his brow bent, and his person drawn up to its commanding height, and, in his roughest voice, accosted the preacher thus : . . ' Sir, I give you no credit for that sermon : you stole it, Sir, you stole it.' Recovered from his first surprize, Mr. Jebb inquired, ' May I ask from whence ? * When, Mr. Hare's countenance relaxing into a smile, with a gentle voice, and a profound bow, he replied, . . ' From your own life and conversation.'
During the whole of Mr. Jebb's stay at Cashel (1804. .1810.), * the house, the intimacy, and the family of the Archbishop, afforded him much enjoyment.' His friend, Mr. G. Forster, too, and Mr. Woodward, were brought, from the county of Cavan, into the diocese of Cash el. ' With the latter,' he writes, ' I had delightful intercourse ; though the originality of his pow erful mind*, mingled with no slight dash of paradox, often tasked me beyond my powers.
* By its reception of a volume of Essays and Sermons, by Mr. Wood ward, published in 1836, and already (Feb. 3.) in a second edition, the public judgment appears to ratify the Bishop's estimate of his friend's mental powers.
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I had much happiness in the acquaintance and friendship of Mr. James Forster ; and it was at Cashel, in the year 1809, that I first became, properly speaking, acquainted with his brother Charles, who has been since my domestic com panion, and mine own familiar friend, for ten years (1813. .1823.). Mr. Knox, too, paid some visits at the palace ; and these were pecu liarly happy times.'
In the autumn of 1805, the Archbishop em ployed him, for the first time, to examine for holy orders. The examination occupied three mornings. He was, at the time, far from well ; and on the Saturday, at dinner hour, found him self without a page composed of the ordination sermon, which he was to preach. Immediately after dinner, he sat down to his desk ; but found himself literally unable to write. He went forthwith to bed ; and directed that he might be called at twelve. On rising, he found himself refreshed in body, and restored in mind. He wrote on till eight o'clock in the morning, when he had completed his task, in time to obtain some needful rest before appearing in the pulpit. The discourse, thus begun and finished in the same night, was afterwards published by request of the Bishop of Kildare, before whom it was preached a second time, at an ordination held in St. Wer-
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burgh's church, Dublin, for some fellows of the university. It stands the eleventh sermon, in his ' Sermons on Subjects chiefly Practical/
About Christmas 1807, some conversations with Mr. Knox, at the palace of Cashel, first directed his attention, particularly, to the parallel isms of the New Testament. Mr. Knox pointed out this conformation, in three or four short pas sages, not more than about four lines each. Mr. Jebb was hence led to consider the phenomenon. In looking at one of the gospels, in the Prayer Book, it seemed to him pure parallelism through out. This gospel was from the sermon on the mount. Hence he asked himself, . . 'What if the whole sermon on the mount were couched in parallelisms?' He sat down to try. And, without any elaboration on his part, the whole of this divine production naturally distributed itself into parallelisms. Immediately he made three copies of his distribution: one, to be presented to the Archbishop of Cashel : another, to be sub mitted to Mr. Knox : the third he retained. In this paper were contained the prima stamina of SACRED LITERATURE. His investigations were resumed afterwards, at distant intervals, and by three or four successive bounds or springs. The work was ultimately ready for the press, in the spring of 1820. The discovery of the cognate,
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or gradational parallelism, being the proper de scription of that called synonymous by Bishop Lowth, was made by Mr. Knox. In this point, he gave the clue : his friend unrolled it. The arguments employed to establish it, were all Mr. Jebb's.
In February 1808, he addressed, to a young clergyman of the diocese of Cashel, a letter on the subject of fashionable amusements : a subject upon which his sentiments had for some years been fully formed. Upon this point, he thought in common, and now acted in conjunction, with his friend Mr. Knox ; putting forward, upon the present occasion, their joint views, of the general tendency of such pursuits to unspiritualize the mind, and of their peculiar unsuitableness to the character and office of the Christian pastor. This letter was privately printed at the time, and has been since published in Practical Theology.
In the spring of 1809, his health was bad, and his spirits much depressed. One night in par- ticular, under a strong nervous lowness, his mind seemed to him to have become a blank as to know- ledge, his heart as to feeling. He knewnot that he had ever suffered more acute mental pain. Under this impression, and to try whether he had any mental or moral vitality remaining, he sat down, and wrote the following copy of verses, which
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literally gave vent to the feelings of the moment His cure was thus effected : the clouds dispersed ; the storm ceased ; and he went to bed in thank fulness and peace.
0 THOU, whose all-enlivening ray Can turn my darkness into day, Disperse, great God, my mental, gloom, And, with Thyself, my soul illume. Though gathering sorrows swell my breast, Speak but the word, and peace and rest Shall set my troubled spirit free
In sweet communion, Lord, with thee.
What though, in this heart-searching hour,
Thou dimm'st my intellectual power, . .
The gracious discipline I own,
And wisdom seek at thy blest throne :
A wisdom not of earthly mould,
Not such as learned volumes hold,
Not selfish, arrogant, and vain,
That chills the heart, and fires the brain :
But, Father of eternal light,
In fixt and changeless glory bright,
1 seek the wisdom from above, Pure, peaceful, gentle, fervent love. Let love divine my bosom sway, And then my darkness shall be day ;
No doubts, no fears, shall heave my breast, For God himself will be my rest !
An old habit, long laid aside, (that of versi fying) was thus incidentally awakened. He soon
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afterwards amused himself, feeling dissatisfied with Cowper's version, by translating the ' Epi- taphium Damonis' of Milton into English verse. This wholly undesigned revival of a long dis used, and almost forgotten faculty, he regarded as a happy circumstance ; since it led, imme diately after, to his paying a tribute of gratitude and affection, where he most wished, upon occa sion of the marriage, then on the point of taking place, in the family of his friend and patron Arch bishop Brodrick. The week previous, Mr. Jebb, one morning between eight and twelve o'clock, threw off a copy of verses, for insertion in a blank leaf of a volume of Cowper, to be presented to Lady Bernard, on her wedding-day.
VERSES
WRITTKN ON A BLANK LEAF OF COWFER's POEMS, PRESENTED, ON HER MARRIAGE,
TO MARY, VISCOUNTESS BERNARD.
Lady, were Cowper's spirit here,
That sainted spirit sure would breathe,
A fervent wish, a vow sincere,
And twine them with thy bridal wreath.
He would not of thy goodness tell, For purest virtue courts the shade ;
He would not on thy features dwell,
For beauty's short-lived flower must fade.
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No, lady ; cease thy modest fears,
More pleased his artless muse would feel,
To consecrate the filial tears,
Which from thy trembling eyelids steal :
To cherish, on this joyful day,
The glistening tribute of thy heart, For years, of mild paternal sway,
For cares that made thee, what thou art !
Then would he pray, that white-robed truth,
And purest peace, and joy serene, (Blest guardians of thy vernal youth)
Might shield thee through life's various scene.
But Cowper lives in realms of light Where kindred seraphs ceaseless sing ;
Far other hands this wreath unite, Far other hands this offering bring !
Yet, lady, wilt thou kindly deign
('Tis all th' unpractised muse can give,)
Accept this rudely-warbled strain,
And let it, bound with Cowper's, live ?
These volumes too, I fondly ween,
May, for their author's sake, be prized,
When thine own hearth shall match the scene, By Weston's bard immortalized.
For sure, thou lov'st domestic joys,
And hours of intimate delight, And days retired from vulgar noise,
And converse bland that cheats the night.
Such joys be THINE, be HIS ! and still,
In heart united, as in hands, Blessing and blest, may each fulfil,
The glorious task your place demands.
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Lights of the world, may each dispense New lustre through your ample sphere,
And very late be summoned hence, To shine through heav'n's eternal year.
In the summer of this year, Mr. Jebb's health continuing bad, and his spirits requiring change of scene, his friend Mr. Knox kindly proposed to accompany him to England. He thus speaks of this excursion. ' Mr. Knox, Miss Fergusson, and I, attended by his trusty Michael, took our departure together. This visit opened a new scene to me ; and laid the foundation of a con nection with ' English worthies,' which has been one of the chief felicities of my life ; and which has had no little share, under Providence, in fix ing my professional walk, and ' the bounds of my habitation.' At Shrewsbury, we were hospitably received, by the amiable and venerable Mr. Sted- man ; at London, by Mr. Pearson, Mr. Henry Thornton, Mr; Butterworth, Mr. Venn, Mr. Cunningham, Mr. Macaulay ; at Clapham, we met Mr. Wilberforee ; at Bristol, we were in mates with the excellent Stocks ; at Barley- Wood, with the incomparable Hannah More ; and again, on our return home, with Mr. Stedman. The majority of these were of the body termed evan gelical ; but, however I may differ from them on
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some points, I may safely say they are among the excellent of the earth ; . . and now I say, as I could wish to do on my death-bed, ' Sit mea anima cum istis ! '
Early in the spring of 1810, he undertook to preach a charity sermon for the Magdalen Asy lum, in Dublin, Upon the composition of this discourse, he bestowed peculiar care ; and found himself repaid by an increased ease, freedom, and rapidity of composition, which eventually proved of great advantage ; especially in the composi tion of Sacred Literature.
At the beginning of June, he was appointed Rector of Abington, in the county of Limerick : a change which, by placing him in altogether different circumstances, was the commencement of a new period in his life. This change, both in its effects upon him at the time, and in its eventual bearings upon his future course, he has himself concisely reviewed. The passage (the concluding sentence of his MS. notes,) is charac teristic : I give it, therefore, in his own words.
' I left Cashel in deep sorrow. And for weeks and months, Abington, without a single congenial associate, and without any field of parochial ex ertion, was to me a dreary wilderness. But the good hand of Providence was, I doubt not, in this whole transaction. This hermitage, so re-
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mote, so retired, and apparently so ill-adapted to my habits, became the scene of my best, and happiest exertions : nor do I think a settlement in any other spot of the empire, could, in so many ways, have elicited, whatever powers it has pleased God to give me. Often, indeed, during the twelve years and a half that I passed there, my heart and spirit have sunk within me ; but I was enabled, from time to time, to recruit and rally. Often, have almost all my friends re gretted, that I was buried in the desert ; but they little knew, nor was I properly conscious myself, that there was manna in the desert, and living waters from the rock. I can now look back with gratitude to my long sojourning there ; and, were it not that I have had such experience of a graciously protecting power, above me, and around me, I should now tremble at what may await me, in the new and arduous sphere, on which I am about to enter : . . may it be ordered (if it be for my everlasting good) that the see of Limerick shall be to me but half so productive of use, and of enjoyment, as the quiet rectory of Abington ! }
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l
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at
SECTION II.
THE materials of the preceding pages, in which this memoir has been brought down to the period of Mr. Jebb's settlement at Abington, in the county of Limerick, in the summer of the year 1810, have, as already intimated, been partly drawn from a private autobiography, and partly obtained in the course of many friendly and familiar conversations. The office of biographer now devolves exclusively on one, who, before this period, had been admitted to the privilege of his acquaintance, and who, three years after, entered upon the duties of the pastoral care, as curate of Abington, under the roof and guidance of the friend, . . whose duties, whose studies, and whose confidence he shared, from that day forward, to the close of life ; a period of nearly one-and-twenty years. The existence of a do mestic friendship thus close and lasting, may seem to claim, at the hands of the present writer, some notice of its origin.
It was early in May of the year 1808, that I first met, and was introduced to Mr. Jebb, by his friend the late Mr. Alexander Knox, (with
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whose intimacy my family had been honoured so early as the year 1804) at Mr. Knox's house, in Dawson Street, Dublin. A few days after, I heard him preach, in the chapel of Trinity Col lege ; and the impression made by that sermon, and by the manner of its delivery, is as fresh in my mind at this moment, as when I heard it twenty-six years ago : the subject was Rom. xiv. 17. ' For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink : but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.' It stands fourth in his ' Ser mons on subjects chiefly practical.'
My next opportunity occurred in the summer of the following year, the end of June, 1809 ; when Mr. Jebb and my brother (who had en joyed his notice and friendship, from the time of his entrance into the church, in June 1807) travelled together to Dublin, both in bad health. This was on the eve of the joint excursion, which Mr. Jebb and Mr. Knox were about to make to England : Mr. Knox, as already mentioned, having most kindly volunteered to accompany his friend, with a view to converting a journey for health, into one also of social enjoyment ; thus benefitting the body, by interesting the mind. It will, hereafter, appear, that the object was most happily accomplished. Mr. Knox's friendly aim was . completely answered, by the immediate
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effects of the excursion ; which, to his compa* nion, proved fruitful in results, happily extending through the entire course of his after-life.
While thus adverting to the first occasion, on which I met the friend of my future days, I would add, that the earliest opportunity of real intercourse was afforded at Cashel, in October 1809, immediately after Mr. Jebb's return from his English tour. On my way to Dublin, at the close of the summer vacation, I had to sleep in Cashel, in order to join the Cork mail-coach, which passed through Cashel at a very early hour in the morning. On our arrival, my bro ther took me to visit Mr. Jebb. He was then far from well. He received us, however, with his wonted kindness ; and, on finding incidentally that I was to pass the day at the inn of Cashel, he asked me to dine with him ; expressing his hope that I would excuse the frugal table of an invalid. The invitation was gratefully accepted : and, during this day, I obtained the first just idea of the powers of his mind ; the extent of his rich and varied acquirements ; the solidity of his judgment ; the acuteness and elegance of his critical faculty ; the poetical spirit and elevation of his thoughts ; and the racy, though unstudied eloquence of his familiar conversation. Accus tomed as I had been, for years, to the conversa-
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tional powers of Mr. Knox (powers of genius of the very highest order), I was not the less struck and impressed, by the kindred, yet very different colloquial style of his friend and pupil. Mr. Jebb, just then, was employed upon the most elaborate of his highly-finished compositions, the exordium of his published sermon, preached for the Dublin Magdalen Asylum. But he turned, at once, from his desk, to engage in conversation with a college youth. The greek tragedians, at this time, were the favourite recreation of his leisure hours ; he had risen fresh from the study of Euripides ; and entered, with great animation, upon the peculiar character of the remains of this poet ; upon the resemblances discernible in them to the hebrew Scriptures; and upon the supe riority of Euripides over Sophocles, as a great moral poet. From this comparative review of the greek tragedians, facilitated by the copious and eclectic extracts in his note-books, the conversa tion turned to our great English classics : Spenser, Shakspeare, Milton, Dryden, Pope, were succes sively characterized, criticized, and compared ; his thoughts pouring themselves out, without the slightest effort, in a flow of language, as cor rect, vigorous, and musical, as can be found in his most finished compositions. I had heard Mr. Jebb, as a preacher ; and felt, as I had never
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felt before, the power of pulpit eloquence : I had heard much of him from Mr. Knox, and more from my brother, and other common friends : but, to speak the simple truth, the high idea which, upon these grounds, I had naturally been led to form, was altogether surpassed by the reality, as brought before me in this one day's conversation. Our talk was prolonged far into the morning hours ; and, years afterward, he ex pressed the pleasure he felt, on this occasion, at my readiness to give up a night's rest, rather than cut short an intellectual entertainment. I had found him, before, a very friendly acquaint ance ; but, from this day, I may say, we became friends. On my return to Dublin, I recollect replying to a college friend, who spoke of Mr» Knox as a Christian Socrates, * If Mr. Knox be Socrates, Mr. Jebb is Plato.'
The estimate of Mr. Jebb's colloquial powers, here faithfully preserved, as formed from a first impression, must not be understood as descriptive of the exercise of those powers, in ordinary con- versation. In mixed society, he was usually silent and reserved, unless when specially drawn, out by others, or when called forth in vindication of what appeared to him important truth. But, in the society of his juniors, and of clerical friends (of whom there were not a few, who
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looked up to him for information or instruction), he conversed with the true flow and spirit of colloquial eloquence. Of those chosen friends, several have preceded, or followed him, to a better country ; but some still remain, in whose hearts his spoken lessons are affectionately regis tered ; and who will, at once, recognize the substantial justness of the above description of an evening, in his study, at Cash el.*
* Since the above passage was written, I have had my own early im pressions of the character of Mr. Jebb's conversational powers most unex pectedly confirmed and illustrated, by a letter from my friend the Rev. Walter Farquhar Hook, conveying his first impressions of the Bishop's conversation, at an interval of twenty years, in terms, at once, so perfectly corresponding with my description, and so happily expressed, that I have sought and obtained permission to make use of this wholly independent testimony.
' Coventry, January 18. 1836.
' It seems, indeed, but yesterday, though many years have intervened, that I first became personally acquainted with the Bishop of Limerick. I was staying at Leamington with my friend Mr. Wood. I had long been an ardent admirer of his Lordship's character ; and I had particularly profited by the admirable Appendix to his Sermons : and I afforded some amusement to my friend, by my little artifices to get a good view of the Bishop, without appearing to be intrusive, as he got in and out of his carriage. On the sun- day, I preached a charity sermon at the Chapel, . . and I think that I have seldom experienced greater satisfaction, and in my satisfaction Mr. Wood cordially sympathized, than I did, when, in the evening of that day, I re ceived a note from you, saying that, from what the Bishop had heard me say in the pulpit, his Lordship thought our opinions and sentiments would so entirely accord, that he desired to form my acquaintance, and requested me to dine with him the following day. I went. And you cannot have forgotten that evening : for I think I never saw the Bishop in a more bril liant mood. He poured forth, in his own sweet, quiet, peculiar style, the stores of his reading and experience, in a manner quite surprizing ; and when, on my return home, my friend eagerly inquired into the circum-
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But to return. The following year (June 4. 1810.), Mr. Jebb, we have seen, was presented to the rectory of Abington, by his friend and patron Archbishop Brodrick ; and, after an interval of a few weeks, employed in the necessary prepara tions, August 4. he finally left Cashel, to reside at Abington glebe. Shortly after, I received a letter from him (the commencement of our correspond ence), in which he honoured me with his confi dence, by desiring my aid to procure him an eligible curate. The gentleman in contemplation was not at liberty to avail himself of the option ; and Mr. Jebb's choice fell on the Rev. Henry Hartstonge Rose, by whom the curacy of Abing ton was worthily filled for the next three years.
In 1810, and 1811, Mr. Jebb was constantly resident at Abington glebe ; and, during this space, I saw him only once or twice, when we met casually in Dublin. It was in the summer of the next year, that the friendship with which he already honoured me, first became cemented
stances of the interview, I could only say, that Bishop Jebb talked as well as he wrote, and that was the highest possible praise. . . From that hour, till the hour of his death, I found him a friend ever ready to give me his advice, and to afford me assistance. To the hours, indeed, and they were not a few, that I passt'd in his company, I look back as among the happiest and holiest of my life. They are gone, . . but I may truly say of them, they 4 have left a relish and a fragrance on the mind, and the remembrance of them is sweet.'
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by social intercourse ; for which, previously, there had been no opportunities. In July 1812, I accompanied my brother and sister-in-law (the daughter of his old parishioner, John Godfrey, Esq., of Beechmount, in the county of Tippe- rary,) on a visit to Abington glebe ; and, after their departure, remained with our friend, by special invitation, for several weeks. Common, or kindred, intellectual pursuits, and, as he was pleased to think, somewhat congenial minds, made this visit, under Providence, the turning- point of our future lives. Early in the following November, I was examined by Mr. Jebb, for deacon's orders, at Cashel ; and immediately after the ordination, he passed a week with his attached friend my brother, at Fethard, in the county of Tipperary. We were both in Dublin, where I had just been admitted to priest's orders, during the months of April and May, 1813. And a vacancy in the diocese of Cashel occurring at this time, which he thought advantageous for his friend and curate Mr. Rose, Mr. Jebb proposed to my mother * that I should become his curate,
* September 1. 1827, this beloved and honoured mother, made the blessed exchange of time for immortality. The measure of her Christian goodness can be fully known, only 'in that day, when God maketh up his jewels.' But her character has been drawn, with the simplicity of truth, by a friend who knew her long and well, . . the late Alexander Knox, Esq. ; and it will be forgiven to a grateful son, if he pays a last earthly tribute to
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and reside with him ; a proposal which gene rously threw open the three-fold advantage, of his society, his books, and his guidance in the use
her memory, by embalming it in the words of that great Christian philo sopher.
« Sept. 10. 1827. ' My dear Charles,
' IT was in my mind to write a line to you, to thank you for your continued kindnesses, when I heard of the great affliction, with which it has pleased the all-wise Providence to visit your family. My own sincere regard for the worthy and cordial friend whom I feel myself to have lost, would sufficiently tell me how deeply your heart must be wounded. But I well know that no son was ever more attached to a mother than your self; and how unspeakably she knit your affection to her from your early years, I myself was in part a witness ; indeed so much so, as to attach to her my own cordial feelings; which were ever kept up and increased by her unremitting kindness to myself. But, along with this, I was, in every in stance, impressed with her love of goodness ; her benevolence to all her fellow-creatures; her anxious zeal to relieve, or aid, every deserving, in deed every necessitous object, which came within her knowledge ; and, above all, her uniform solicitude that the religious habits of her own heart should be substantially genuine, and undelusive. If I myself, therefore, do not feel a sensible loss, in her removal to a better world, it is because my long absence has prevented that intercourse, which, from her peculiar cordiality and ingenuousness of nature, was ever interesting to me; and the want of which would have seemed unnatural, while it was practicable to have it. . . I state these feelings, as my unfeigned testimony to my de ceased friend. You, I am assured, amid your acutest pains of heart, will have before you, all the considerations, which call forth dutiful acquies cence in the Divine order. But from my heart I pity poor Mr. Forster ; though even there, it is a great consolation that James, and Mrs. James, had time to be with him, before the last shock.
' Though I am still in fear of my eye, and do not dare to read a single sentence, I could not omit to say something to you, upon so painful an occasion ; and I will only add, that one obvious design of Providence, in removing our beloved connexions to the unseen world, . . I may say, of that order of things, of which such removal makes so signal a part, . . is more and more to increase our promptitude in exercising our thoughts
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of them. The option, as it well might be, was cor dially accepted by both my honoured parents : and, on the 8th of June, 1813, 1 accompanied my friend and rector to Abington. The time of our arrival is fixed in my memory, by a trait so cha racteristic of my friend, that I am unwilling to withhold it from the reader. Immediately on our passing, from the post-chaise, to the library, Mr. Jebb said, ' I wish to show you my Swanlinbar collection ; the stock of books on which I set out, as a curate.' To work, accordingly, we went, without a moment's pause : he hunting out, and handing down the volumes ; and his companion disposing them upon the floor. The task took some time, and no light labour ; for there were between four and five hundred volumes, of all sizes, to arrange. Towards the close of our toil, observing me look fatigued and faint, he reproached himself for thoughtlessness, in having unconsciously over-tasked my strength, and having forgotten to call for some refreshment after our journey ; observing, ' I ought to have
and affections, there, whither we ourselves must so shortly follow, and where alone we are fully to realize the ends of our existence.
« I rejoice in my dear Friend's progress. May God bless him, and comfort you, and your poor good father.
* Believe me ever yours,
' ALEX. KNOX,'
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remembered that others are not so strong as I am.' To this slight incident, which happened to mark the commencement of our new relation, Mr. Jebb sometimes referred, in after-years ; and the remembrance of it made him always unwilling to let me aid, in taking down, or putting up, his numerous folios.
I owe the reader some apology for this di gression; which he should have been spared altogether, had not the particulars now related, properly belonged to the life of Bishop Jebb ; and had it not seemed the duty of a biographer, who passed so many years of his life, in one home with the friend, the memory of whose virtues he is about to record, thus to mark the origin, and earlier incidents, of such a friendship.
At the period upon which I have now glanced by anticipation, Mr. Jebb had been exactly three years rector of Abington. From his own rapidly sketched, yet full and circumstantial autobio graphy, his life has been already carried down to the date of his first settlement there. It remains only, therefore, to give some short ac count of those intervening three years : of the rest of his life, I was myself an eye-witness and partaker. This account shall be taken, partly from his letters to his family, and partly from my own recollections.
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The earlier period of his residence at Abington, as he has himself mentioned, was most uncom fortable in itself, and seemed very unpromising for his future usefulness. His house was lonely, his health broken, his spirits weak ; and his mind, consequently, little equal to continuous exertion. A letter to his friend and brother-in-law, the late Rev. Joseph McCormick, gives a painfully graphical description of ' his manner of being,' at the commencement of this life of total soli tude.
' Abington Glebe, Sep. 19. 1810.
' MY DEAR JOE,
* I HAD hoped, very long before this date, to give you some account of my settlement and proceed ings. The simple truth is, that I had nothing pleasant to communicate ; . . that I have been suffering, for the most part, under more than common depression ; and have been, at once, unable, and unwilling to tease, perhaps to dis tress, my friends, by grievances, which, however imaginary, have, to me, had all the effect of reality. As I hope and trust that the worst is now over, I cannot bring myself to defer any longer writing, though I have not any thing positively pleasant to say. It is now more than six weeks since I came to this place ; and though
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I had both known and relished retirement, . . I was, before this change of circumstances and situation, a stranger to solitude ; which, whatever fine things poets and theorists may say about it, is, assuredly, neither pleasant, nor profitable : it is not good for man to be alone, being, to my clear conviction, independently of the volume where it stands, the dictate of the highest wisdom.
* Better prospects are, I will hope, beginning to open ; after being quite alone, for several weeks, I have been for three or four days in company with some of my neighbours ; and this variety has not been without its use, as it has made me hug myself, on getting back to the better company that line my walls. But I am promised a visit from my friend Henry Woodward, next week ; which, even in prospect, cheers me, be yond any thing I have experienced in my solitary sejour. My best love attends you and yours. * Farewell, my dear Joe, and believe me 4 your truly affectionate,
In the November of this year, Mr. Jebb was cheered by a momentary hope of an exchange being effected, through the kindness of the Arch- bishop, which would have brought Mr. M°Cor-
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mick into the diocese of Cashel, and himself, consequently, within easy reach of the society of this justly- valued friend, and of his sister and their family. The prospect, however, quickly passed away ; leaving him to contend against bad health, and consequent mental depression, in the solitude which he has described in the letter just quoted. The struggle was conscientiously maintained, and rewarded with progressive suc cess ; as will appear from an extract of a letter to the same friend, dated in March of the follow ing year (1811.) : an extract further interesting, as marking that early discernment of the cha racter of the people around him, which, by the blessing of Providence, eventually made Abing- ton the scene, for his country, of much public usefulness, for himself, of most unsought and unexpected general estimation. . . * In answer to your kind inquiries, I am glad to say, that Abington is brightening upon me ; and that, when my heavy burthen of debt for the house shall have been discharged, I trust I may look for much comfort, even in the midst of retirement. We are, as yet, quite unmolested by disturbance. The people are to me civil and accommodating. And, though not well emerged from savagism, I cannot help admiring them, as fine specimens of human nature, with great capabilities, both mental
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and moral. Would that they were elicited by a bland, a judicious, and a patriotic policy!'
Still, however, though sensibly improved in spirits by the improving aspect of his situation, he found himself unable, amidst the unsettling circumstances of an unfinished house, and newly-formed establishment, to resume his fa- vourite studies. In October of the same year, he thus expresses, upon this subject (to him of all others the most interesting), his regret at his present inability, mingled with a gleam of hope for the future : for it was his happy nature, always to see sunshine through clouds. . . * For myself, I cannot say much. During the last fourteen months, I have been learning the art and mystery of housekeeping; but, truly, my mind has been deplorably inactive. I was not, I flatter myself, made to indulge, in what Mr. Gibbon is pleased to call ' the* fat slumbers of the church;' yet my residence at Abington has, hitherto, been little superior to a long sleep. I still, however, live in hopes of resuming my old mental habits ; and perhaps, after lying so long fallow, the soil may, in due time, produce a better harvest than before.'
While thus accusing himself of mental inac tivity, and living only on the hope of a future intellectual harvest, his well-stored scrap-book^,
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now open before me, correct the honest severity of his self-accusations ; and prove that he was effectually, though unconsciously, preparing him self to realize the hope expressed in his familiar correspondence. Looking into these most in teresting volumes, I find the same traces, at this period, as at earlier dates, of his various reading, in copious selections, and spirited translations, from the greek philosophers and fathers, together with large extracts from our own moralists and poets, generally accompanied by valuable original criticisms and reflections.
The following translations from Saint Chrysos- tom, the employment of a single week, August 19 •• 24. 1812, may be instanced as a specimen.
* PERORATION OF SAINT CHRYSOSTOM'S SIXTH ORATION ON THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE.'
6 SAINT CHRYSOSTOM'S FIRST SERMON ON PRAYER.'
6 SAINT CHRYSOSTOM'S SECOND HOMILY ON PRAYER.'
' PERORATION OF SAINT CHRYSOSTOM'S SIX TEENTH SERMON ON THE EPISTLE TO THE
HEBREWS.'
* SAINT CHRYSOSTOM'S FIRST HOMILY ON THE GOSPEL OF SAINT JOHN' (unfinished).
Two passages, in one of his note-books, occur ring between July 1811, and June 1812, are
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so happily descriptive of his own spirit, and of his course through life, that I feel it my duty to give them a place in the present memoir. The first is a free translation, by Mr. Jebb, from Saint Gregory the Great : the other, a meditation of his own.
" Human applause is the great test of humility. Whenever we are praised by our fellow-mortals, a certain secret pulsation will tell us, whether we are proud, or humble. We may, indeed, and should, feel a complacency, in any favourable testimony of ourselves, which tends to the good of our fellow-creatures, or the glory of our God. But, whoever is blessed with the grace of hu mility, when applauded, will retire into the depths of his heart, and bring the testimony to a severe examination. The proud man exults, even at praises which he does not deserve : for it is his anxiety, rather how he shall appear in the eyes of men, than what may be his actual state in the apprehension of Almighty God. The humble spirit makes all praise, the matter of deep interior scrutiny ; . . correcting what is amiss ; and recollecting, that all human decisions are to be brought, at the last day, before the great tribunal, and there submitted to a correc tion and revision, which will, doubtless, in many
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instances, fill the assembled universe with asto nishment and awe/'
' Such (proceeds the translator) are the very just sentiments of Gregory the Great, in his exposition of Job, Lib. xxii. cap. v. p. 566. Some of his own words are inimitably expressive. " Cum humanse linguse attestatione laudamur, occulta pulsatione requirimur, quid de nobis ipsis sentiamus."
4 If we are delighted with unmerited praise, we are in danger of a severe, and aggravated condemnation ; if with praise, in some degree, merited, we are in danger, by that very compla cency, of losing our eternal reward.
'The habitual remembrance of eternal judg ment, is a sovereign remedy against vanity and pride. J. J.'
' The most efficacious manner in which we can act usefully in the immense circle of the world, and for the good of humanity, is to fill our place in the circumscribed circle of domestic virtues, . . to form around us an atmosphere of love and benevolence. We must do the good that lies within our power : it afterwards belongs to Providence, and not to us, to make that good contribute to the general utility.
' Show me one general, and good result, that
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is an effect of the foresight, and the will of man ; cite any thing great and admirable to me, . . and I will show you, perhaps several centuries before, the embryon of that result. Men who were good, and simple, and virtuous, have, without knowing it, forwarded its maturity, by labouring in the narrow sphere of their domestic life.
' The magnificent schemes of projectors, eager to do good on a great scale, commonly terminate in disappointment. Why? Because the con trivance is human ; and because man can neither foresee events, nor command instruments, for any period of time, however short ; much less, during the continued lapse of ages.
' The simple, unpretending, unnoticed actions of those, who merely seek to perform their daily duties, as they ask their daily bread, often issue in consequences, which have the most extended, and the most lasting influences, on the civiliza tion and happiness of mankind. Why? Because man has no share in the contrivance. Because it is, exclusively, the plan and purpose of Al mighty God ; whose wisdom foresees all events, and whose power commands all needful instru ments :
Who reacheth from one end to another mightily : And who sweetly ordereth all things/
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The well-known * consequences ' of Mr. Jebb's twelve years' residence at Abington, . . the portion of his * good, simple, and virtuous life,' upon which we are about to enter, . . afford the best exemplification of the justness of his own reflection.
In September, 1811, Mr. Jebb enjoyed the happiness of receiving, for the first time, under his own roof, his brother, Mrs. Jebb, and their two elder children. During this visit, he accom panied them in an excursion to Killarney and Cork ; conducting them, afterwards, on their way to Dublin, as far as Cash el. In December of this year, he was invited to preach the cha rity sermon, for the Protestant Female Orphan School, at Limerick : it was preached in the cathedral of Saint Mary, from the text,
' They that be wise, shall shine as the brightness of the
firmament :
And they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever/
In May, 1812, his brother-in-law, Mr. McCor- mick, paid a visit to Abington. On his return northward, Mr. Jebb had settled to go with him a day's journey, to the house of a friend, in the county of Tipperary ; but, on the way, met with an overturn, which caused a bad dislo-
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cation of the left shoulder. They were travelling, in Mr. McCormick's gig, over the steep hill of Silver-mines, upon the road from Abington to Nenagh; and coming to a fissure in the road, made by a mountain-torrent, the left wheel sank into it, the carriage overset, and Mr. Jebb was precipitated down a steep gully, at least ten feet below the level of the road, . . his companion fall ing upon him. Providentially, Mr. McCormick rose unhurt, and was able to procure assistance from the neighbouring peasantry. But, on Mr. Jebb's being extricated from his perilous situ ation, it appeared that he had suffered some serious injury from the fall. He was removed to the cottage of a blacksmith (the only aid afforded by a wild mountain district), who ascertained the shoulder to be out of joint, and undertook to put it in. His sufferings, during these rude and unsuccessful attempts, (they were long and repeated), were most severe; but they were endured with his characteristic firmness and patience. The operator, at length, pronounced the shoulder again in its place ; and the patient was conveyed to the house of a neighbouring clergyman, the late Rev. Thomas Going ; where he was most hospitably received, and whence surgical assistance was sent for to Nenagh. On the arrival of the surgeon, the joint, upon ex-
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animation, proved to be still dislocated ; a fresh operation was necessary ; and, owing to the height of the inflammation occasioned by the previous treatment, this required, for its com pletion, the united efforts of two persons, re lieved successively, and continued for more than an hour. By the fever which followed, Mr. Jebb was confined to his room for nearly three weeks ; during which he experienced, from Mr. Going and his family, the greatest tenderness and kind ness. . . It is most painful to reflect, that this amiable clergyman was eventually numbered among the victims of a system of savage and uncontrolled proscription, the existence of which in Ireland, in the nineteenth century, must re main an indelible stain upon the annals of Great Britain.
The effects of Mr. Jebb's severe accident are incidentally noticed, after his return to Abing- ton, in letters to his friends. . . * From the elbow down, I have power of raising my hand and arm. I can shave with my left hand, by slightly in clining the head. I can, with less inclination of the head, tie my cravat. And I can easily use my fork. Slight pains, occasionally, I do feel. And I cannot yet at all, or at least very imper fectly, raise the arm from the elbow towards the shoulder/ . . ' My arm is gaining ground. I can not, indeed, yet raise it: but there is no reason
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to apprehend that I shall not recover its use altogether. Meantime, I am free from sensi ble uneasiness ; and can use my left hand as well as ever, for all purposes that do not im ply the necessity of raising high the upper joint.'
Those who remember, and have profited by the use, which Bishop Jebb, afterwards, made of that left hand, when it alone remained to him, may be disposed to acknowledge, with the pre sent writer, the special goodness of Providence, in thus limiting the effects of the injury above described. Had the shock been a little greater, or the treatment but a little more severe, . . the attack of paralysis, in 1827, which deprived him of his right hand, might have found him maimed, and left him helpless. But, while the left hand was, at this time, thus mercifully preserved, the shoulder continued to cause pain, at intervals, for several years ; nor was the injured joint ever perfectly restored to its natural action.
About the middle of June, he was sufficiently recovered to visit Cashel ; where I then met him ; and, immediately after, joined him at Abington, with my brother and sister. It was during this visit, that he resumed his inquiry into the style and structure of the New Testament, and the application, to that sacred volume, of the princi ples of composition, shown by Bishop Lowth to
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be characteristic of the Hebrew Scriptures ; . . an inquiry which had been suspended since he left Cashel, and the pregnant results of which have been given to the world, in * Sacred Literature.' The sketch now drawn up in a few days, was addressed to his old friend and tutor, Dr. Magee, afterwards Archbishop of Dublin ; whose opinion, in the highest degree favourable, operated as a salutary encouragement to the prosecution of his work.
I specify the date of this literary spring the more particularly, because the circumstances which, apparently, gave rise to it, are not un connected with the history of Mr. Jebb's mind ; which, although, once put in motion, it was active, vigorous, and animated, in the very highest degree, . . generally required some slight impulse, from without, to set it going. In one of his letters he remarks, . . ' I am like a clock ; I cannot go, unless I am wound up.' I must correct the illustration : he resembled rather the pendulum of a wound-up clock ; the slightest touch would set him going.
To a mind thus constituted, familiar corre spondence, friendly society, and congenial con versation, were obviously essentials : and if, to use his own affecting expression, 'his spirit, often times, died within him,' when alone, . . all who
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knew him intimately, on the other hand, must well remember the life and energy with which he spoke and wrote, when a train of thought had once been kindled, in any of those ways.
In October, 1812, Mr. Jebb's solitude was en livened, by the arrival of friends from England, whose society none could more fully or justly appreciate than himself; and by a visit from his venerable early friend Dr. Hales, accompanied by his family. And in January, 1813, he, at length, enjoyed the long-desired privilege of receiving, in a house of his own, Mr. Alexander Knox, whom the Archbishop kindly brought to Abing- ton from Cashel. Mr. Knox remained with his friend for about a fortnight. This was his first and only visit ; the increasing delicacy of his health disinclining him more and more for distant excursions : their correspondence shows with what affectionate anticipation Mr. Jebb had looked forward to it ; and he cherished the re membrance of it with a fond regret, as that of happiness which, in this life, was never to return.
In the following February, he transmitted, through Mr. Knox, to his friend Dr. Magee, a further and enlarged outline of his projected work on the New Testament. In March, he was engaged in preparing a second charity sermon
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for the Magdalen Asylum, Dublin ; which he preached in April ; and which has been pub lished in ' Practical Theology.' Early in June I returned with him to Abington.
In entering on this period of Mr. Jebb's life, I shall, perhaps, best discharge the duty of bio graphy, by simply recalling, and recording my impressions of his mind and character, at the commencement of a daily intercourse, which terminated only with my friend's removal to a better world.
Before he left home, for Dublin, this year, he had been much engaged in collecting and ar ranging materials, for his treatise on the style of the New Testament. After my return, I found his mind naturally full of this original subject ; yet open, at the same time, to every subject of interest, in theology, moral philoso phy, polite literature, and criticism ; and always ready, by advice, by suggestions, by well-timed encouragement, or by friendly censure, to pro mote and direct the noviciate studies of others, and to give his friends the full and willing benefit of his own previous labours, and long experience. Among works to be early, and tho roughly, eviscerated (as he expressed himself), by a young student in divinity, I recollect my friend's particularly recommending to me, Cud-
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worth's Intellectual System, and Lord Bacon's Novum Organum ; as studies calculated, at once, to exercise and discipline the judgment, and to fill and enlarge the mind. The advantages of his consummate skill in the principles of composition, were imparted as freely, as those arising from his extensive knowledge of books. But, while he delighted to commend every successful effort, the correctness of his taste, and the justness of his critical faculty, rendered him difficult to please. His natural, and acquired, severity of judgment, it need hardly be added, greatly heightened the effect of his approval ; which was always bestowed with that generous cor diality, which marked that it came from the heart.
He has himself noticed, and lamented, the constitutional defectiveness of his memory. To my apprehension, he possessed an excellent memory, only of a particular kind. If he could not easily recall the facts, he could faithfully recollect and indicate the sources, of knowledge. When information was desired upon any subject, with which he was in the least conversant, he could, at once, tell the work, the volume, and oftentimes the page, where it might be found. Frequently, too, when consulted upon subjects the most remote from his own walk of study, he
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has surprized his most intimate friends (such was the excursiveness of his research), by pointing out the quarters where they were best treated of. A memory of this order may be less fitted for the display of conversation, but it is the true memory for the study, and the desk. The writer learned to appreciate it, from the first days of his residence at Abington ; and derived continual benefit from it, through the many happy years of his intimacy with Bishop Jebb.
Besides the excursiveness of his reading, one cause of the extent and variety of Mr. Jebb's acquaintance with the sources of general inform ation, lay in what, notwithstanding Mr. Locke's rejection of the word and thing, I must venture to call his innate love of books ; a taste, which led him, like Mr. Gibbon, to examine every new purchase, with care, before he deposited the volumes upon his shelves.
His friend Mr. Knox once told him, that he reminded him of Pope. I remember being for cibly struck, the first week of my sojourn at Abington, with a resemblance to Johnson ; a resemblance often, and independently, remarked by other friends. He one day took me to visit some of our parishioners, in order to introduce me as the new curate ; not liking, as a very young man, to put myself forward, I did not
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speak ; Mr. Jebb observed it, and told me, as we walked home, that I ought to overcome my tendency to silence in company : I replied, that I had been intentionally silent : ' Then, Sir,' was his rejoinder, ' if you were intentionally silent, you were elaborately wrong/ In familiar con versation, his sayings frequently came out with similar force and brevity ; and they always re called to my thoughts our great English moral ist ; whom he resembled, also, in a poetical vein, in which the critical faculty predominated, and in his early love of long and hard words.
In the course of this year, Mr. Jebb's atten tion was particularly called to the subject of parochial schools in Ireland, especially as con nected with the parochial clergy ; in conse quence of plans of national education, then in contemplation. In December, 1813, by desire of the Archbishop of Cashel, he drew up, in the form of a letter addressed to his Grace, a paper upon this subject ; comprizing, a full exposure of the injustice, and impolicy, of throwing, by legislative enactments, the bur then of national education, upon the clergy of the established church ; a short review of the ways in which the established clergy had, hi therto, freely co-operated, . . were willing and ready cordially to co-operate, . . and, with wise
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encouragement on the part of the legislature, would be enabled still more effectually to co operate, towards the promotion of this great ob ject; and, in conclusion, a brief statement of his own views, as to the best means of advancing general education throughout Ireland, under the peculiar circumstances, social, moral, and reli gious, of the Irish population.
This document was submitted, by the Arch bishop, to the Irish government of the day ; was well received ; and never acted on.
In March, 1814, the long-desired exchange, in favour of Mr. Jebb's brother-in-law, seemed to be effected, by Mr. McCormick's appointment, through the kindness of the Archbishop, to the rectory of Mealiffe, in the diocese of Cashel. Mr. Jebb entertained, with the characteristic warmth of his hopeful and affectionate nature, the prospect of family happiness and enjoyment, which now, apparently, opened upon him ; and, for several months, his mind was occupied by the cares and anxieties, necessarily attending the migration of a large family, from their quiet set tlement in the north of Ireland, to a wild and distant parish in the south. The removal, how ever, was not to be effected: it was the good pleasure of an all- wise Providence, that the friend and relative whom he so justly loved, should be seized by a hopeless malady ; before the end of
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the year, his fraternal cares and anxieties assumed a more painful character ; nor were they re mitted, until his hurried return from England, in June 1815, to witness the close of Mr. M°Cor- mick's sufferings and valuable life.
Mr. Jebb's letter to Mr. Knox, in this moment of affliction, while it thus beautifully describes the spirit of him whom he had lost, unconsciously pourtrays his own.
« Rosstrevor, July 13. 1815.
c MY DEAR FRIEND,
* THIS morning, at ten o'clock, my dear friend and relative was released from all human pain and suffering. He expired, without a struggle or a groan, and I have the gratification to think, that his trying and excruciating illness, was made the providential instrument of preparing him for a happier state. He had, honestly, conscienti ously, and I do believe with his whole heart, employed the talents and opportunities entrusted to him : and it would seem that, as a reward, he was purified by suffering. He was brought to the innocence, the harmlessness, and purity of a child ; and has repeatedly recalled to my mind, and to that of others who attended his sick bed, our Saviour's declaration, that we must t>e~
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come as little children, to enter the kingdom of heaven. It is a great comfort to me that I reached this in time. My sister is wonderfully supported.
' Ever most entirely yours,
' JOHN JEBB.'
It was amidst these domestic cares and sor rows, that Mr. Jebb employed himself in prepar ing, and publishing, his first volume of sermons. In a letter to Mr. McCormick, dated October 7. 1814, he thus alludes to his contemplated public ation : . . * My literary pursuits were suspended during the late visits ; but I hope to resume them ere long. Six sermons are prepared. Six more will make a small volume : and, should I publish, at the out-set I will hazard no more. How far it may be prudent to come at all, before a full, fastidious, and sermon -jaded public, is a question, however, which I must seriously ask ; and which one or two of my literary friends, will, I know, be candid enough without reserve to answer/
The friends consulted upon this occasion were Mr. Knox, and Dr. Magee. Their imprimatur was more than justified, by the reception of Mr. Jebb's ' Sermons on Subjects chiefly practical ;' a volume which, within a few months, passed
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through two editions ; and which has continued to rise in public estimation through a period of twenty years.
The early testimony borne to the merits of this volume by the public voice, a testimony seconded, with very unusual unanimity, by the periodical criticism of the day, was preceded, or followed, by approbation, to which Mr. Jebb justly at tached a still higher value : the approval of minds entitled to pronounce with authority, and whose favourable judgment would have been, alone, a decisive test of the intrinsic value of his labours; and the reception experienced, both by his volume of Sermons, and by the Appendix attached to it, among men of the highest pro mise, both at the universities, and in the church. Upon the best and purest grounds, this consent of witnesses was deeply gratifying to one, whose single aim, in this first publication as in all his subsequent undertakings, had been, to promote, so far as might be permitted, the good of man kind, and the glory of God. Yet, while duly sensible of these encouraging results, it was his happiness to enjoy a testimony of another kind, which came more home to his heart : this testi mony was, the comfort and support derived from the study of his sermons, in many and wholly independent instances, by persons in
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deep affliction, by others under heavy trials, and by some ' at the hour of death.' But these fruits belong to a later period.
The Appendix to this volume, relating to the peculiar character of the Church of England, as distinguished, both from other branches of the Reformation, and from the modern Church of Rome, caused, as it is the property of truth to cause, an equally strong sensation, in opposite extremes ; among Roman catholics, . . and among low-church protestants. Its foundational princi ple, the golden rule of Vincentius Lirinensis, which adopts catholic consent as our guide in scriptural interpretation, was assailed, at the time, courteously, acutely, and unsuccessfully, by a cor respondent under the signature of Albius, in the Christian Observer. The claim of the Church of England to the adoption of this principle, and consequently to the middle place assigned to it in Mr. Jebb's Appendix, has been zealously con tested, on the other hand, by Roman catholics ; and is, at the moment in which I write, the sub ject of a controversy publicly at issue, between an accomplished French ecclesiastic, and some distinguished divines of Oxford. With the de tails of the discussion I am, at present, unac quainted ; but the softened spirit in which even the Roman catholic controversy may be con-
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ducted (a spirit which it was Mr. Jebb's constant aim to possess and promote, and to the increase of which his writings, it appears, have not a little contributed,) is too happily exemplified, in a let ter from the learned Abbe in question, to a friend at Oxford, for the extract to be withheld from the readers of Bishop Jebb's Life : . . 'J'ai attaque M. Jebb, quoique j'ai regret; car je Taime beau- coup. '. . When will controversial writers learn, that the spirit of charity, while it sheds a grace even upon error, is the best, and only safe, ally of truth ?
While thus assailed, however, on the one hand, by the gymnobiblical protestant, and, on the other hand, by the priest-governed Romanist, the prin ciples to which Mr. Jebb's Appendix first recalled public attention, as the true principles of the En glish reformation, have continued silently, steadily, and diffusively to gain ground. And the Appen dix itself is now generally recognized, as an au thoritative depositary of those catholic principles.
Of the merits of Mr. Jebb's sermons, as com positions, it is needless to speak : they are before the public ; they are in the hands, probably, of all who may read these pages; and ample justice has been rendered, by his contemporaries, to the beauty of their spirit, the depth and richness of the thoughts, and the force, purity, and persuasiveness
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of the style. But his manner and delivery as a preacher, it seems the part of his biographer to notice. His manner in the pulpit (it was his natural manner) was grave, impressive, and affectionate : while he read the collect, and the Lord's Prayer, you already felt that the preacher was in earnest : his delivery, easy and unstudied, and rather slow, but full of life and energy, con firmed and increased, with each succeeding sen tence, your first impression. His voice, though not strong, was deep and flexible ; and its mo dulations so justly varied, and the enunciation, especially of the consonants, so clear, as greatly to augment its power. He thought not about action : what he used came with the impulse of the moment ; and was evidently called forth by the importance of the subject, and the interest that his heart took in it. He never committed to memory ; yet a rule which he always observed, both in preaching and reading, imparted to his discourses all the life and animation of extempore address : this rule was, to carry the eye forward, while delivering each sentence, to those which followed, so as to know, beforehand, what was about to be spoken, . . Imperfect as this descrip tion is, there are, I believe, many still living, to whom it will recall him as he was, . . as he stood, and looked, and spake, while he enforced, with an
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affectionate authority always tempered by meek ness, the lively oracles of God. Might I attempt to convey the whole effect, it should be in the words of the great Hooker * : ' His virtue, his gesture, his countenance, his zeal, the motion of his body, and the inflection of his voice, who first uttereth them as his own, is that which giveth the very essence of instruments available to eternal life/
A preacher with powers of delivery like these, could not fail to be an accomplished reader. Mr. Jebb's reading, on ordinary occasions, was of such varied excellence, as always to command atten tion, and often to call forth the strongest admira- ation. One excellence, particularly observable in his reading, was, that his command of voice, and powers of inflection, seemed to rise in proportion to the difficulty of the writer's style. When in England with Mr. Knox, in 1809, he was request ed, by a friend, to read aloud a treatise of Robert Boyle's (perhaps, the most unreadable, in this sense, of great English writers.) : he readily com plied ; and, as he proceeded, managed so judi ciously the interminable periods, and disentangled so skilfully the long parentheses, as equally to sur-
* I cite this illustrious name with fresh reverence, after a recent pil grimage to his church and house, in the neighbouring parish of Bishops- bourne.
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])rize and delight the hearers. The friends who had made the request, remarked, that Mr. Jebb's reading reminded them of that of Mr. Pitt (with whom they had been intimate) ; and that they had not heard such reading since Mr. Pitt's death.
But it was in the reading-desk, and in the per formance of the solemn services of his venerable mother the Church of England, that his powers appeared to the truest advantage. His manner of delivery here, while more subdued, was not less impressive, than in the pulpit. It was mani fest to all, that his whole heart was in his service. While offering up his own petitions, and those of the congregation, before the throne of Grace, in the words of our unrivalled liturgy, he never, for a moment, forgot that he PRAYED : a conscious ness, above all other means, influential, to draw the hearers to pray also. When reading the les sons, and the psalms, he so entered into the spirit of the sacred penmen, as to give reality to what he read ; always reminding you more of the scrip tural scene, subject, or characters, than of the reader. . . This sketch, a plain and faithful record of the impression made upon one, who long en joyed the high privilege of hearing him officiate, is drawn with the more freedom, because num bers are still living, both in Ireland and in Eng-
BISHOP JEBB.
land, who formed part of his congregations ; and not a few, I believe, who can recall, and who will own, the likeness.
The autumn of 1814, was a season, to Mr. Jebb, of much cheerful family enjoyment. In August, his brother-in-law, Rowley Heyland, Esq., Mrs. Heyland*, and their family, accom-
* While writing these pages, my pen has been suspended by tidings of the removal of this exemplary person, the last of her generation, beyond all earthly thoughts and cares. The following sketch of her character, and account of her peaceful and edifying death, in a letter from her nephew, who will pardon me for inserting it, would be interesting and instructive under any circumstances : it is appropriate here, as relating to a beloved sister of Bishop Jebb.
< Dublin, May 4. 1835.
1 The event, for which my last letter prepared you, has taken place. At half past six, yesterday evening, it pleased God to take my aunt to himself. We had been in expectation of it, for more than a day before, such was her weakness. Early on Saturday morning, I was sent for ; and joined with her, my uncle, and her children, in prayer, and religious conversation, which she sustained, with great strength of voice, and with her usual cheerful, and collected temper. After this, she fell into a slumber, from which she wakened but at intervals, till the same hour on Sunday morning, when I again saw her. She was then incapable of con versation herself, but desired we might converse around her. After this, until within half an hour of her death, her slumbers were renewed, to all appearance tranquil, and refreshing : . . whenever she did waken, she showed a perfect consciousness ; which never deserted her, until within a few minutes of her departure. At the last, she showed a perfect con sciousness of the prayers and psalms, which I continued to read till life was gone, by lifting up both her hands, and moving her lips, at the con clusion of each : the power of articulation having left her. Her death was so very peaceful, that it was some minutes, before we could ascertain, whether she had breathed her last. When all was over, I followed my uncle's example, when my mother died, by repeating, in her children's presence, the prayer in the burial service, which returns thanks for such a release.
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panied by Mr. Jebb's eldest sister, Miss Jebb, came to Abington. And this family party was succeeded, in September, by the arrival of his brother, Mrs. Jebb, and their two elder children. It was on this occasion that I first had the happiness of becoming acquainted with that brother, my late honoured friend Judge Jebb. The public merits and services of this truly eminent man, are very generally known, and have placed his name, with honour, among the worthies of Ireland ; where his memory is grate fully cherished, and will be had in lasting remem brance, by the good, of every party and persua sion. But none can have known such a man, as he ought to be known, who have not seen him, amidst the duties, and charities, of private and
< I know how interested you must feel in all this ; both as having known her virtues, and as recognizing, in her, a worthy sister of those, who have, at such short intervals, gone before her. I have not known, it were impossible, I believe, to know, a more faultless character. That remarkable gentleness of disposition, was not the evidence of mere passive virtues : . . for, in every relation of life, she was always fulfilling her appointed duties, to the utmost of her power. I can well remember how she not merely bore the afflictions of her life, but exerted herself under them. None who knew her, but have experienced her active kindness and generosity ; a family quality, in which she was in no respect inferior to her brothers. And in guileless simplicity, and humility, she also re- sembled them. With all of them, there were the evidences of a heavenly care, prospered through the whole course, of useful, pious, innocent, and happy lives.
' Believe me, my dear friend,
' Ever affectionately yours,
' JOHN JEBB.'
BISHOP JEBB.
domestic life. In the ground-work of their characters, . . integrity, candour, generosity, high- mindedness, . . never were brethren more in unity, than Judge Jebb and the Bishop : in manner, on the other hand, they were of perfectly opposite styles. Both were characteristically modest, and constitutionally shy : but, probably owing to the influences of their different professions, Bishop Jebb's native modesty and shyness occasioned a degree of reserve, in society, which his brother's daily contact with life enabled him to overcome. Both were naturally playful ; with a vein both of wit, and humour : but the Bishop's manner, though cheerful, was grave, and seldom relax ed, except among intimate friends ; while his brother's was easy, lively, and universally pre possessing. Thus gifted in manner, as in mind and heart, and possessing the additional advan tage of a light and graceful person, Judge Jebb was, when in society, what he seemed formed to be the delicice humani generis.
His outward air and manner, were but the fair reflection of the inner man. His brother, with a pen dipt in the heart, has faithfully de picted his exemplary conduct, in all the relations of life. I can only add, that what he had been to him, as a brother, he became to me, as a friend ; and never was there truer, or surer friendship
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than his. This faint tribute to departed excel lence will be forgiven to one, who owes to the constant friendship of these kindred spirits, a debt of grateful remembrance, which it is his heart's belief will survive, in other, and better worlds.
In a letter to Mr. McConnick, Mr. Jebb thus speaks of the visit just alluded to. ' The visit of Richard, Louisa, and their youngsters, was, to me and my companion Mr. Forster, at least, most delightful. I trust, to the visitors, too, it was not disagreeable. Richard is gaining ground in every good quality he always possessed ; with the addition of good qualities, not, perhaps, be fore, fully elicited. I believe there are not in the world many such men.'
In the commencement of 1815, Mr. Jebb was busily employed in revising, composing, and pre paring notes and illustrations for the sermons of his first published volume. Upon the notes, he wrought con amore ; as it had long been his favourite practice, to cull select passages from his general reading, and treasure them in scrap- books, for his own use ; frequently enriching his selections, by original reflections and criticisms. It now occurred to him, that to illustrate printed sermons, somewhat in the same way, might afford an interesting and instructive variety. The ex-
BISHOP JEBB.
periment was eminently successful : the notes of his volume attracting early, and marked, atten tion. It was his nature to be often deeply affected, by incidents, and touches of feeling, so slight, as to pass unheeded by the generality of readers : this susceptibility was peculiarly awakened, by the incidental touches of nature, so frequently to be met with in the Old and New Testaments. A favourite scriptural incident of this kind, which he introduced in a note to his sermon on the character of Abraham, may be in dicated as an example : see ' Sermons on subjects chiefly practical', p. 133. The maternal tender ness of Hannah, and the filial piety of Samuel, so touchingly preserved in the prophet's mention of the 'little coat,' are here brought out in a manner, which, as appeared at the time, com pletely succeeded in imparting to others Mr. Jebb's own feeling.
In April, he went to Dublin ; and, early in May, proceeded to London, to superintend, on the spot, the publication of his volume ; which, on the introduction of Dr. Magee, had been readily undertaken by Messrs. Cadell and Davies. Immediately on his arrival in town, he was in vited by the worthy son-jn-law of his friend Mr. Stock of Bristol, the late J. H. Butterworth, jun. Esq., of Fleet Street, to become his guest, during
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the progress of his book through the press ; and the invitation was given in that genuine spirit of English hospitality, to which he has often alluded, and which, to him, was always irresist ible. In this convenient neighbourhood, and con- genial society, he passed several happy weeks ; dividing his time between the printers, the book shops, and occasional engagements with his other friends, including an excursion of a week to Huntingdonshire, and Cambridge. His book, meanwhile, came out; and, on his return to town, he found himself already in the position of a successful author. His name was now in fashion ; his London engagements thickened ; and he enjoyed, in prospect, the delightful hope of re- visiting Mrs. Hannah More, and his friends in the neighbourhood of Bristol, . . when a letter from Ireland announced the alarmingly increasing illness, already adverted to, of his beloved friend and kinsman, Mr. McCormick.
How he acted, on receiving this afflicting in telligence, may best be told in his own words. The following extract is taken from a letter which I received from him, dated Rosstrevor, July 21. 1815 . . 'Yesterday sennight, at an early hour, my poor brother-in-law was released from his pains. He expired without a struggle or a groan ; and I do humbly trust, that his end was PEACE.
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His family have since been graciously supported : they have the human consolation of many most attached, and sympathizing friends, . . for I hardly ever knew a man so deeply beloved, as he that is gone ; and the love extends to his family. But, whether we look to him, or to themselves, . . I do believe that they have, and enjoy, greater than human consolations. For myself. . I have lost (for a while) one of my earliest, most attached, and most serviceable friends. The poor fellow loved me truly : he rejoiced to have seen me in his last hours, and that I was on the spot to assist in comforting my dear sister. How great reason have I to be thankful for the thought put into my mind, that I would leave London, and hasten here ! I have been greatly . . greatly rewarded, for so doing. And what would now be my feelings, had I stifled the movement, . . and remained where I was ! Perhaps I never could have en dured the self-reproach of again visiting those English friends, whom I may hereafter, if it please Providence, rejoin without a blush.'
From this scene of family affliction having well fulfilled all the duties of a brother and a friend, he returned to Abington in August, at a time when the county of Tipperary was in a state of open insurrection, and the adjoining county of Limerick on the eve of being placed, also, under
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the restrictions of the Insurrection Act. He found his parish of Abington, however, (before his incumbency, a very troublesome district of Limerick) in a state of the most perfect quiet. And now it was, that Mr. Jebb first had practical experience, of the place which he held in the affections of his Roman catholic parishioners, and of the effects, upon the minds of the Irish peasantry, of a life spent in the quiet discharge of duty, and the judicious exercise of unosten tatious kindness.
The tranquillity of the parish, and the good spirit of his parishioners, are mentioned incident ally, in a letter to Mrs. M°Cormick, written shortly after his return ; a letter further inter esting, as expressive of his fraternal affection, guided, equally, by Christian wisdom, and prac tical good sense.
'Abington Glebe, Aug. 20. 1815.
' MY DEAREST BESS,
' YOUR most kind, and excellent letter reached me, just at the time I could most have wished, within about an hour of my return to my quiet home.
' The tone and temper of your letter are just what I expected, and, let me add, all that I could desire. It is my hope and trust that you will be
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enabled to proceed as you have begun ; and then you will find, more and more, every thing co-operating for your good. Mercies and bless ings, I humbly venture to predict, are in store for you, which exceed all that are past. Cherish, only, a devotional spirit ; and pray that you may be enabled to cherish it wisely ; and a cheerful, happy spirit, will assuredly not be wanting. You cannot fail, either, to be sensible, that, under the weighty responsibility of such a family, the good and pleasant dispositions of your dear children, afford ground to work upon, which, if rightly cultivated, will produce good fruit in abundance. That you may be prospered and protected in all your ways, is my fervent prayer. * I cannot but greatly approve of your con tinuance at Rosstrevor, for the winter ; so weighty a business as your final settlement, should not be hastily carried on. Yet I think it probable, that the plan which Richard first thought of, may, on the fullest consideration, prove the most eligible ; that, I mean, of Port- arlington. The objections, either to Dublin, or its immediate neighbourhood, are many and im portant ; the advantages, on the other hand, are, perhaps, rather equivocal. The drawback on Portarlington . . I mean that of breaking new
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ground . . I am far from overlooking ; and I can enter with sympathy into your feelings upon it : still, it is, I verily believe, far worse in prospect, than it would prove upon actual trial. We are wonderfully formed for adjustment to the vary ing circumstances of this life ; we are taught to regard, and to pass through life, as a pilgrimage ; but to enjoin our doing so, would be a tyrannous oppression, if we were not gifted with powers for the achievement. Those powers we have. From want of use, we may not know we have them ; from want of submission to the Divine will, we may destroy them ; but, unless we are grossly unjust to ourselves, we may call them forth on every occasion of necessity, or rather, the very necessity itself, will bring them into action. This, in my own narrow experience, I have found to be fact ; and those who are far wiser and better than I am, have borne the strongest, and the most repeated testimony, that such exercise of the self-accommodating faculty, invariably adds to the conscious happiness of life. As you justly observe, however, we shall have ample time for consideration ; and I know that you will be well borne through whatever, on full consideration, you are led to adopt, as your future scheme of life.
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* You will be glad to know, that I found this neighbourhood in perfect tranquillity and peace. No manner of disturbance has occurred here since I left home ; and I am in hopes matters may so remain. We can leave the doors un guarded, and move freely, at all hours ; and I am told, from good authority, that, individually, I am very popular among the inhabitants ; more so than would have been imagined, till my long absence called forth their feelings.
6 1 trust, my dearest Bess, that, here and else where, we shall often meet. Should Portarling- ton be your destination, its comparative neigh bourhood to me would be very delightful : in all cases, however, we must draw closely together. Adieu ! May God Almighty bless and preserve you and yours !
* Ever your most affectionate brother,
6 JOHN JEBB.'
While thus, at the same time, giving himself to the claims of family affection, and preparing to resume, amidst surrounding alarm, the peace ful tenor of his Abington life, he was not un mindful of his beloved studies. Early in October, he tells Mr. Knox, ' I have taken to two things, in which I find comfort already ; and hope, K 2
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progressively, to find more and more : the daily reading of a portion of the Greek Testament (meimet in usum) ; and, also, the reading of Saint Chrysostom on Saint Matthew.' These daily lections in Saint Chrysostom, while they much increased his relish for the writings of that great ancient, suggested a congenial literary em ployment for the ensuing winter months. He had already translated, we have seen, at an earlier period, some specimens from Saint Chry sostom : he now seriously thought of attempting a translation of one of his larger treatises ; and made choice of that most generally known and esteemed, his celebrated treatise on the Priest hood. The hours devoted to this undertaking, were borrowed from sleep : he rose every morn ing about four o'clock (his usual time of rising in winter, especially when he had any work in hand) ; lighted his own fire (a practice, perhaps, adopted from the example of Mr. Knox) ; and prosecuted his translation until breakfast-hour. In a few weeks, the version was nearly com pleted ; but, though written, and in many parts rewritten, with his accustomed care, he could not succeed in satisfying his own demands, . . which were certainly very high : for he required, in translations, not only great fidelity, and criti-
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cal correctness, but, also, the spirit, grace, and freedom of original composition.* This, in his version of the De Sacerdotio, he seemed, to his own ear, not to have sufficiently attained ; he, accordingly, laid aside the work ; and never after could be prevailed on to resume, or even to re-peruse it. The MS., of which others, probably, would form a very different estimate, is preserved among his unfinished papers.
His own avocations, however, when most interesting to himself, never interfered with his willingness, and readiness, to contribute his best thoughts and counsels, whenever sought, for the direction of others. We have just seen him engaged upon his translation from Saint Chry- sostom : about this time, he received an appli cation from his niece, Miss M°Cormick, at the request of a friend, for a selection of such books, as he would recommend for the use of a mother, in the moral and religious training of her child ren. As inquiries of this nature are not infre quently made ; it may be interesting to many readers, and instructive, possibly, to not a few,
* His feeling upon this subject, recalls to mind Dryden's standard of translation : . .
' Nor ought a genius less than his that writ Attempt translation ; for transplanted wit, All the defects of air and soil doth share, And colder brains, like colder climates are.'
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to learn how they were, on this occasion, answered by Mr. Jebb.
< Abington Glebe, Feb, 15. 1816.
' MY DEAR ALICIA,
* I NOT only do not think you presumptuous in writing to me, but I thank you most cordially for the pleasure your letter gave me, and take the best means in my power of showing what I feel, by making an immediate, though, I fear, imperfect answer. On another sheet of paper, I shall write a list of books, which you can enclose to your friend Mrs. R * * ; confining myself, as I presume she would wish, to those of a religious description, or at least bearing on religion. I fear, when she receives and acts upon it, her opinion of your ' uncle's taste and judgment' may not rise ; at the same time, if I be fortunate enough to point out but one author, that can agreeably and usefully add to the store of such a mind, and the comfort of such a heart, it will be of little consequence, whether the recom- mender does, or does not sink, to his proper level. You are not, however, to imagine I am indifferent to the good opinion of those, who, like Mrs. R * *, unite piety with taste. When this can be honestly attained, it is assuredly to be prized as a blessing, which it would be affect-
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ation, or something worse, to slight, . . as it would be vanity, or worse than vanity, inordinately to pursue. I should be glad you would mention to Mrs. R * *, that the list is meagre, because I do not like to name books, however useful or valuable, to any considerable portion of which I may have strong objections ; and that, even in so brief a list, there are few books, to which I would give unqualified approbation. In reading, it has been my own plan, to select ' here a little, and there a little,' and then to systematize as I could for myself; a circumstance which, in some re spects, disqualifies me for the office of being a good literary caterer for others.
* Farewell, my dear Alicia,
'Ever your truly affectionate uncle,
'JoHN JEBB.'
' P. S. Having written my list, which I have endeavoured to make a sort of catalogue rai- sonne, I send it precisely as my thoughts first occurred, therefore much order cannot be ex pected in it.
* SCOUGAL'S Life of God in the Soul of Man.
* The title of this little manual may appear somewhat puritanical : but it is free from the slightest puritanical tincture ; and is, throughout, no less soundly rational, than it is deeply pious.
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It contains, in small compass, a great weight of practical divinity ; the style is pure, and almost elegant, and is remarkable considering the age and country of the writer. He was a Scotch episcopal clergyman, and died about the close of the seventeenth century. Bishop Burnet wrote a recommendatory preface.
* WORTHINGTON on Self-resignation.
4 This little book is rarely to be met with. Less finished and systematic than the former, it is more profound in spirituality. Worthington has sounded the depths of Christian philosophy ; and, with his Christianity, he incorporated the best and noblest lessons of Plato and his fol lowers, without, however, wandering into the enchanted ground, or among the air-built castles of mysticism.
6 HOWE'S (the Hon. Charles) Meditations.
' This exquisite little book consists of the pri vate thoughts of the virtuous author, thrown down for his own personal edification, and without the least thought they would ever be made public ; after his death, however, partly at the instance of Night-thoughts Young, they were printed ; and in truth they are an invaluable treasure. More sober sense, or heart- elevating piety, has rarely been condensed, by any human being, into so small a compass. Mr. Howe had
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been much in the world ; in the reigns of Charles and James II. he had been employed on foreign embassies ; but retired, while fortune courted his stay, to his paternal estate, and to the cultivation of his own heart.
' LUCAS on Happiness.
* This book has been lately republished, and is well known. The first volume, in some parts, will appear dry : the second is admirable through out, leading on the reader through the most rational course, and by well-marked gradations, to the just end of his being :
Some there are, that by due steps aspire To lay their just hands on the golden key That opes the Palace of Eternity.
' To this book may be added Practical Christi anity, by the same author.
* Two sermons by the learned CUDWORTH.
' These contain the essence of practical reli gion, and, besides, are most learned, eloquent, and philosophical. They are annexed to the quarto edition of the author's stupendous ' Intellectual System,' and have been lately republished in separate pamphlets, one at Rivington's, London, the other at Edwards', Cork.
'JEREMY TAYLOR'S Sermons.
' These are too well known to need a character ;
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we do not hold a taper to the sun. The 3d vol. of the octavo edition is the best worthy of re peated perusal ; and, of that volume, the sermon before the university of Dublin is transcendently excellent. Allowance will of course be made, for the soarings of an exuberant imagination, and for quotations of greek and latin after the manner of his day ; the sense of which, however, is commonly given in English.
* The Holy Dying, of the same author, is well worthy of being studied.
' The Holy Living, I do not mention, because though, in many parts, truly and deeply edifying, there is an occasional coarseness of manner, which was tolerated in the ruder days of our ancestors, but which has been exploded by the better taste and judgment of to-day.
* Taylor's Life of Christ, has also been repub- lished, and would be a proper companion for the above articles. I see a new life of Bishop Taylor advertized, which, it is presumed, would be worth purchasing.
' OGDEN'S Sermons.
* I mention these especially for the sake of two admirable little discourses, on the 10th command ment. Other sermons too in the volume, are very instructive. The manner is peculiar ; con densed, pungent, eloquent, witty, and pathetic.
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In the whole compass of modern pulpit elo quence, I know not a passage of such genuine, unaffected pathos as the description of a good and bad son, and the picture of the misery of an unhappy parent, at the close of the llth sermon, on the 5th commandment.
' BISHOP BUTLER'S Analogy and Sermons.
6 The profoundest works of modern times ; which must not be read, except by those, who are able and willing to labour, to digest, and to retain ; but which will amply repay those, who study them as they should be studied : display ing the wisdom, consistency, and equity of the divine plans ; and laying open the nature of them, at once with the minuteness of a mental anatomist, and with the comprehensiveness of an almost angelical intelligence. * DR. TOWNSON'S Works.
' Of these, the greater part are subjects of Biblical criticism; a criticism however, uniting, in a singular degree, the character of inge nuity and sobriety, of elegance and learning, of minute research, and yet of mental free dom and enlargement. His discourses on the four Gospels, throw an original light on their design and execution. His harmony and pa raphrase of the history of the Resurrection, &c. do away many difficulties ; and do so, without ever (as is too frequently the case) creating
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difficulties, as it were for the purpose of ushering in an imperfect, unsatisfactory solu tion. But his sermons are, especially, the part of these two volumes, to which attention should be directed. They are but four in num ber, and are models in their kind; elegant, simple, unaffected, apparently inelaborate; but they will, on close study, be found the result of deep thought, well revised, and patiently cor- rected. The sermon on the manner of our Lord's teaching, is among the most finished in our language; that on the Rechabites, in the easiest and most unpretending manner, presents to us the cheerfulness of Christian self-denial. His Life, by Archdeacon Churton, is a beautiful sketch ; the biography of the character is par ticularly well drawn.
' LOWTH'S Lectures on Hebrew Poetry;
translated by Gregory.
* Whoever has not read this book, has yet to learn, the chief sources of beauty in the Scrip tures of the Old Testament. An able friend of mine once said, that, in this work, there is a minor inspiration ; and I cannot think he was far astray. From the minute and peculiar structure of the hebrew poetical sentences, to the sublimest flights of poetical invention, a flood of light is poured on excellences, which had for ages escaped the notice of critics, but which Lowth
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readers familiar to every reader, who has the least pretensions to judgment and sensibility. 6 ISAAC WALTON'S Lives : Edited by Dr.
Zouch. 8vo.
' The honest simplicity, native candour, un tutored eloquence, and genuine love of goodness of Isaac Walton, have stood the test of near a century and a half, and gradually rise in the public estimation. His lives of five most dis tinguished members of our church, not only