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ment, but most gratifying, from the manner in which it was offered.
The following memorandum in the diary for 1812 is noticed, as indicating the fixedness of those political opinions from which Mr. Copleston never swerved, though, in common with some other distinguished men who took the same line, he was in after years charged with doing so.
I allude more particularly to the adverse remarks made upon the bishop's conduct in 1829, with reference to his sermon preached in Chester cathedral, November 5, 1826, as though the ground he then took was inconsistent with his speech and vote in favour of the Catholic Relief' bill. We
may to a great extent account for this, from the fact that points, which were by the bishop kept carefully distinct, are in the popular mind very generally confounded. Dr. Copleston's votes, whether given in convocation at Oxford in 1812, or in the House of Lords in 1829, were given upon the political part of the question. His sermon at Chester was strong and decided on the religious
part of it.
The following extract from a publication by the Rev. Noel Ellison, Protestant Errors and Roman Catholic Truths, carries the more weight with it, because it comes from one whose opinions diverged a good deal from those of the bishop.
* That, on a question of this sort (viz., the Catholic') all men should think alike, who could ever expect? but that many among those who zealously opposed the measure should have no credit given them for their opposition being conscientious, or that many among those who zealously advocated the measure should have no credit given them for still being stanch members of the Church of England—these perversions serve as a satirical caricature on the generosity and candour of this liberal age,--this age which is free from prejudices! If many persons did turn their opinions to the breeze—if others dealt with the question carelessly, regardless of the interests of the Christian religion, all that can be said is—they are sad instances of unworthy conduct. But to single out such men as the bishop of Llandaff, and the late bishop of Oxford, for vituperative remarks—men who, in point of worldly prosperity, had already made their fortunes—the singling out or such men is ridiculous and absurd. But this is not all. Look at Copleston, and call back Lloyd to your recollection. What are the distinctive traits of character in these two men? Surely independence—notoriously so; for many would read obstinacy—honesty, straightforward honesty ; for many would add the epithet of blunt. You can no more imagine Copleston and Lloyd doing a dirty thingyou can
more associate their characters with anything like trickery or time-serving, than, as Clytemnestra said, you could make oil and vinegar coalesce into one fluid.
Copleston—the scholar, the gentleman, the gallant champion of classic Oxford against northern hordes of critics; Copleston, of whom for years past it has been known, that his sentiments were in favour of catholic emancipation, and whose very last words, in the notes of the sermon preached at Chester, November 5, 1826, which has been made to tell tales against his consistency, would lead any
one HAUTEUELV what part he would act
Copleston may appeal to friend and foe-he may appeal to the whole of Oxford assembled in convocation-or he may appeal to one and all of the many friends he has, who all respect and admire him—and the answer to his appeal would be as the voice of one man in his favour.'
Though it is travelling beyond the record, I am tempted to add this one sentence
"With respect to the late bishop of Oxford, there is a sort of desiderium which almost makes the pen refuse to do its office in tracing out the expression of one's affectionate remembrance of the good, the open-hearted Lloyd.'
The warm generosity of these sentiments needs no comment, and will find a ready response in the breasts of many, whichever of the two bishops is recalled to mind.
In 1813, Mr. Copleston declined an offer of the headship of Magdalen Hall, made him by Lord Grenville; the only offer of the sort which it was ever in that nobleman's power to make to one whom he was so well inclined to serve. That he should have so declined is not surprising, for it probably was at that time very evident that a vacancy in the headship of his own college could not be far distant; and it was scarce possible but that he should have had a confident expectation of succeeding to that place whenever it should want an occupant, which it did before the end of the
About this time he contributed the article in the Quarterly Review on Lord Harrowby's Curates bill, thus noticed by the author in a letter
to his father, which I give at length for the sake of a pleasing sketch of Dropmore, and the record of a perilous journey contained in it.
Oriel Coll. Jan. 29, 1814. My dear Father,
It was particularly gratifying to me to find that you approve of the paper on Lord Harrowby's speech. I have never avowed it, but I know it is generally attributed to me here-partly from the open share I had in requesting our representative to support the curate's bill, and partly because it contains sentiments on various points which I have often expressed in convocation. This place, you know, is the head-quarters of what is falsely called high church principles. In the true sense of the word, I am more a high churchman than most of them—that is, I would have much greater exertions made to preserve the unity of our church : and to make in effect, as well as in name, a national church. But the leading partisans who assume that title appear to me only occupied with the thought of converting the property of the church to their private advantage, leaving the duties of it to be performed how they can. Of course, among this description of people, the tone and spirit of that review are not relished. I have heard many objections against it on that ground.
My visit to Dropmore was not prevented by the weather. I went there on the 18th, the day on which the great fall of snow was in this part of the kingdom. From the time I entered the house to the 23rd, there was no possibility of going outside the door without treading in deep snow, and, in fact, I did not stir out once.
There was an agreeable party within, the house very warm, containing every luxury that furniture can supply, and, what with billiards and books, the time was filled up as pleasantly as one could desire.
Lord Grenville I have always found friendly and amiable in his behaviour, very unassuming, and though not affable, from wanting a turn for conversation, yet conversing with frankness and simplicity where he has reason to place confidence. Not much discussion of political subjects occurred, as you may suppose, but there seemed to be no studied reserve; and on the bullion question we had one night a long conversation, in which all parties fortunately were agreed. It seems that Lord Lauderdale has just published a pamphlet, in which he recommends the lowering the standard of our coinage to a level with the depreciated currency, otherwise the present rents cannot be maintained, thus perpetuating upon the monied proprietor and annuitant that loss, which he has hitherto borne more patiently under the idea that it is temporary and soon to be redressed.
Lord Grenville sent me in his carriage to Maidenhead. When I came there no chaise was to be had, and I was obliged to come on outside a coach. It was the first day after an interval of four that the coach had travelled; and such was the state of the roads, that with great difficulty and much peril we reached Benson that night, twelve miles short of Oxford. Once we were upset completely—all the outside passengers, seven in number, tossed over the hedge, happily into a deep bed of snow, and not the slightest injury done to any one.
But as the dusk came on our journey was most hazardous ; the people on horseback whom we met answered the anxious inquiries of the coachman by advising him not to proceed; but the day was near its close, and it seemed too late to return. We were then, six miles from Benson, obliged to leave the road, and drive over ploughed fields for at least five miles, often full gallop, for fear of being benighted. The coachman declared he knew nothing of the way, and was guided only by a coach before us. Once, owing to some accident in the harness, we were obliged to stop, lost sight of our leader, and the man