Books: Life of John Coleridge Patteson

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> Life of John Coleridge Patteson

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'It has struck me as remarkable that friends and relations have again
and again spoken of different incidents as 'turning-points' in
Coley's life. If he had literally turned at them all, his would have
been a most revolving career; but I believe the fact to have been
that he never turned at all, for his face was always set the right
way, but that each of these was a point of impulse setting him more
vigorously on his way, and stirring up his faithful will. Such
moments were those of admission to religious ordinances, to him no
dead letters but true receptions of grace; and he likewise found
incitements in sorrows, in failures, in reproofs. Everything sank
deeply, and his mind was already assuming the introspective character
that it had throughout the period of growth and formation. One of
his Eton companions, four years younger, has since spoken of the
remarkable impression of inwardness Patteson made on him even at this
time, saying that whenever he was taken by surprise he seemed to be
only ruminating till he spoke or was spoken to, and then there was an
instant return to the outer world and ready attention to whatever was
in hand.

The spring found him of course in the full tide of Eton interests.
The sixth and upper fifth forms, to the latter of which he had by
this time attained, may contend in the public examination for the
Newcastle scholarship, just before the Easter holidays, and it is a
great testimony to a boy's ability and industry if his name appears
among the nine select for their excellence. This time, 1843, Coley,
who was scarcely sixteen, had of course but little chance, but he had
the pleasure of announcing that his great friend, Edmund Bastard, a
young Devonshire squire, was among the 'select,' and he says of
himself: 'You will, as I said before, feel satisfied that I did my
best, but it was an unlucky examination for me. It has done me a
great deal of good in one way. It has enabled me to see where I am
particularly deficient, viz. general knowledge of history, and a
thorough acquaintance with Greek and Roman customs, law courts and
expressions, and Greek and Roman writers. I do not find myself
wanting in making out a stiff bit of Greek or Latin if I have time,
but I must read History chiefly this year, and then I hope to be
selected next time. My tutor is not at all disappointed in me.'

This spring, 1843, Patteson became one of the Eleven, a perilously
engrossing position for one who, though never slurring nor neglecting
his studies, did not enjoy anything so much as the cricket-field.
However, there the weight of his character, backed by his popularity
and proficiency in all games and exercises, began to be a telling
influence.

On November 2, 1843, when the anniversary of his mother's death was
coming round, he writes to his eldest sister:--

'I had not indeed forgotten this time twelvemonth, and especially
that awful Sunday night when we stood round dear mamma's bed in such
misery. I never supposed at that time that we could ever be happy
and merry again, but yet it has been so with me; and though very
often the recollection of that night has come upon me, and the whole
scene in its misery has passed before me, I hope I have never
forgotten, that though a loss to us, it was a gain to her, and we
ought rather to be thankful than sorrowful.... By the bye, I do not
really want a book-case much, and you gave me the "Irish Stories,"
and I have not yet been sent up. I would rather not have a present,
unless the Doctor means to give me an exercise. Do not lay this down
to pride; but you know I was not sent up last half, and if this
passes, a blank again, I do not deserve any fresh presents.'

This piece of self-discipline was crowned by joyous notices of being
'sent up for good' and 'for play' in the next half; when also occurs
a letter showing a spirit of submission to a restriction not fully
understood:--

'Tuesday evening.

'My dearest Father,--Hearing that "Israel in Egypt" was to be
performed at Exeter Hall on Friday night, I went and asked my tutor
whether he had any objection to my running up that night to hear it,
and coming back the next morning, quite early at six. My tutor said
that, without any absurd feelings on the matter, he should not think
himself of going to such a thing in Lent. "It was not," he said,
"certainly like going to the play, or any of those sort of places,"
but he did not like the idea of going at all. Do you think that
there was any harm in the wish?

'I do not ask because I wish you to write and say I may go, but
because I wish to learn whether my asking at all was wrong. Even if
you have no objection, I certainly shall not go, because for such a
trifling thing to act in opposition to my tutor, even with your
consent, would be very foolish.

'...Good-bye, my dearest Father. God bless you, says your
affectionate and dutiful Son,

'J. C. P.'

This year, 1844, the name of Patteson appeared among the 'select.'
'I shall expect a jolly holiday for my reward,' he merrily says, when
announcing it to his sisters. He had begun to join the Debating
Society at Eton, and for a while was the president. One of the other
members says, 'His speeches were singularly free from the bombast and
incongruous matter with which Eton orators from fifteen to eighteen
are apt to interlard their declamations. He spoke concisely, always
to the point, and with great fluency and readiness. A reputation for
good sense and judgment made his authority of great weight in the
school, and his independent spirit led him to choose, amongst his
most intimate friends and associates, two collegers, who ultimately
became Newcastle scholars and medallists.

'That the most popular oppidan of his day should have utterly ignored
the supposed inferiority of the less wealthy section of the school,
and looked on worth and high character as none the worse for being
clothed in a coarse serge gown, is a fact seemingly trivial to
ordinary readers, but very noticeable to Eton men. As a rank and
file collegian myself, and well remembering the Jew and Samaritan
state that prevailed between oppidans and collegers, I remember with
pride that Patteson did so much to level the distinctions that worked
so mischievously to the school. His cheerfulness and goodness were
the surest guarantee for good order amongst his schoolfellows. There
was no Puritanism in him, he was up to any fun, sung his song at a
cricket or foot-ball dinner as joyfully as the youngest of the party;
but if mirth sank into coarseness and ribaldry, that instant
Patteson's conduct was fearless and uncompromising....'

Here follows an account of an incident which occurred at the dinner
annually given by the eleven of cricket and the eight of the boats at
the hotel at Slough.

A custom had arisen among some of the boys of singing offensive songs
on these occasions, and Coley, who, as second of the eleven, stood in
the position of one of the entertainers, gave notice beforehand that
he was not going to tolerate anything of the sort. One of the boys,
however, began to sing something objectionable. Coley called out,
'If that does not stop, I shall leave the room;' and as no notice was
taken, he actually went away with a few other brave lads. He
afterwards found that, as he said, 'fellows who could not understand
such feelings thought him affected;' and he felt himself obliged to
send word to the captain, that unless an apology was made, he should
leave the eleven--no small sacrifice, considering what cricket was to
him; but the gentlemanlike and proper feeling of the better style of
boys prevailed, and the eleven knew their own interests too well to
part with him, so the apology was made, and he retained his position.
The affair came to the knowledge of two of the masters, Mr. Dupuis
and Mr. Abraham, and they gratified their warm sense of approbation
by giving Patteson a bat, though he never knew the reason why, as we
shall see in one of his last letters to one of the donors.

His prowess at cricket must be described in the words of his cousin,
Arthur Duke Coleridge, who was at this time in college: 'He was by
common consent one of the best, if not the best, of the cricketers of
the school. The second year of his appearance at Lord's Cricket
Ground was the most memorable, as far as his actual services were
concerned, of all the matches he played against Harrow and
Winchester. He was sent in first in the Harrow match; the bowling
was steady and straight, but Patteson's defence was admirable. He
scored fifty runs, in which there was but one four, and by steady
play completely broke the neck of the bowling. Eton won the match
easily, Patteson making a brilliant catch at point, when the last
Harrow man retired. Full of confidence, Eton began the Winchester
match. Victory for a long time seemed a certainty for Eton; but
Kidding, the Winchester captain, played an uphill game so fiercely
that the bowling had to be repeatedly changed. Our eleven were
disorganised, and the captain had so plainly lost heart, that
Patteson resolved on urging him to discontinue his change of bowling,
and begin afresh with the regular bowlers. The captain allowed
Patteson to have his way, and the game, though closely contested, was
saved. His powers of defence were indeed remarkable. I saw the
famous professional cricketer Lillywhite play once at Eton in his
time, and becoming almost irritated at the stubbornness and tenacity
with which Coley held his wicket. After scoring twenty and odd times
in the first, and forty in the second innings, (not out), Lillywhite
said, 'Mr. Patteson, I should like to bowl to you on Lord's Ground,
and it would be different.' 'Oh, of course,' modestly answered
Coley; 'I know you would have me out directly there.'

The next cricket season this champion was disabled by a severe sprain
of the wrist, needing leeches, splints, and London advice. It was
when fixing a day for coming up to town on this account that he
mentioned the occurrence of the previous year in a letter to his
father:--

'I have a great object in shirking the oppidan dinner. I not only
hate the idea of paying a sovereign for a dinner, but last year, at
the cricket dinner, I had a great row, which I might possibly incur
another time, and I wish very much to avoid.'

Then, after briefly stating what had passed, he adds: 'At this
dinner, where the captain of the boats manages it, I should be his
guest, and therefore any similar act of mine would make matters
worse. You can therefore see why I wish Tuesday to be the day for my
coming up.'

The sprain prevented his playing in the matches at Lord's that
summer, though he was well enough to be reckoned on as a substitute
in case any of the actual players had been disabled. Possibly his
accident was good for his studies, for this was a year of much
progress and success; and though only seventeen, he had two offers of
tutorship for the holidays, from Mr. Dugdale and the Marchioness of
Bath. The question where his university life was to be spent began
to come forward. Studentships at Christchurch were then in the gift
of the Canons, and a nomination would have been given him by Dr.
Pusey if he had not been too young to begin to reside, so that it was
thought better that he should wait and go up for the Balliol
scholarship in the autumn.

In the October of 1844 he describes to his eldest sister the
reception of King Louis Philippe at Eton, accompanied by the Queen,
Prince Albert, and the Duke of Wellington:

'The King wore a white great coat, and looked a regular jolly old
fellow. He has white frizzle hair and large white whiskers. The
former, I suspect, is a wig. The cheering was tremendous, but behind
the royal carriage the cheers were always redoubled where the old
Duke, the especial favourite hero, rode. When they got off their
horses in the schoolyard, the Duke being by some mistake behindhand,
was regularly hustled in the crowd, with no attendant near him.

'I was the first to perceive him, and springing forward, pushed back
the fellows on each side, who did not know whom they were tumbling
against, and, taking off my hat, cheered with might and main. The
crowd hearing the cheer, turned round, and then there was the most
glorious sight I ever saw. The whole school encircled the Duke, who
stood entirely alone in the middle for a minute or two, and I rather
think we did cheer him. At last, giving about one touch to his hat,
he began to move on, saying, "Get on, boys, get on." I never saw
such enthusiasm here; the masters rushed into the crowd round him,
waving their caps, and shouting like any of us. As for myself, I was
half-mad and roared myself hoarse in about five minutes. The King
and Prince kept their hats off the whole time, incessantly bowing,
and the King speaking. He walked arm-in-arm with the Queen, who
looked well and very much pleased. The Duke walked with that Grand
Duchess whose name you may see in the papers, for I can't spell it.'

Very characteristic this both of Eton's enthusiasm for the hero, and
of the hero's undemonstrative way of receiving it, which must have
somewhat surprised his foreign companions.

A week or two later, in November 1844, came the competition for the
Balliol scholarship, but Coley was not successful. On the Saturday
he writes:--

'The scholarship was decided last night; Smith, a Rugby man, got the
first, and Grant, a Harrow man, the second.... I saw the Master
afterwards; he said, "I cannot congratulate you on success, Mr.
Patteson, but you have done yourself great credit, and passed a very
respectable examination. I shall be happy to allow you to enter
without a future examination, as we are all quite satisfied of your
competency." He said that I had better come up to matriculate next
term, but should not have another examination. We were in about nine
hours a day, three hours in the evening; I thought the papers very
hard; we had no Latin elegiacs or lyrics, which was rather a bore for
the Eton lot. I am very glad I have been up now, but I confess it
was the longest week I ever recollect. I feel quite seedy after a
whole week without exercise.... The very first paper, the Latin Essay
(for which we were in six hours), was the worst of all my papers, and
must have given the examiners an unfavourable impression to start
with. The rest of my papers, with the exception of the Greek prose
and the critical paper, I did very fairly, I think.'

A greater disappointment than this was, however, in store for Coley.
He failed in attaining a place among the 'select,' at his last
examination for the Newcastle, in the spring of 1845. Before the
list was given out he had written to his father that the Divinity
papers were far too easy, with no opportunity for a pretty good
scholar to show his knowledge, 'the ridicule of every one of the
masters,' but the other papers very difficult.

'Altogether,' he adds, 'the scholarship has been to me unsatis-
factory. I had worked hard at Greek prose, had translated and re-
translated a good deal of Xenophon, Plato, and some Demosthenes, yet
to my disappointment we had no paper of Greek prose, a thing that I
believe never occurred before, and which is generally believed to
test a boy's knowledge well. My Iambics were good, I expect, though
not without two bad faults. In fact, I cannot look back upon a
single paper, except my Latin prose, without a multitude of
oversights and faults presenting themselves to me... I almost dread
the giving out of the select. Think if my name was not there. It is
some consolation that Hawtrey, yesterday, in giving me an exercise
for good, asked how I liked the examination. Upon my saying, "It was
not such a one as I expected, and that I had done badly," he said
"That is not at all what I hear," but this cannot go for much... I
want exercise very badly, and my head is very thick and stupid, as I
fear this last paper must show the examiners.'

The omission of Patteson's name from among the select was a great
mortification, not only to himself but his father, though the Judge
kindly wrote:--

'Do not distress yourself about this unfortunate failure as to the
Newcastle. We cannot always command our best exertions when we want
to do so, and you were not able on this occasion to bring forward all
you knew. It was not from idleness or want of attention to school
business. Work on regularly, and you will do well at Oxford. I have
a line from your tutor, who seems to think that it was in Juvenal,
Cicero and Livy, and in Iambics, that the faults principally were. I
cannot say that I am not disappointed; but I know so well the
uncertainty of examinations and how much depends on the sort of
papers put, and on the spirits and feeling one is in, that I am never
surprised at such results, and I do not blame you at all.' Those who
knew Coley best agree in thinking that this reverse took great effect
in rousing his energies. This failure evidently made him take
himself to task, for in the summer he writes to his father:--

There are things which have occurred during my stay at Eton which
cannot but make me blame myself. I mean principally a want of
continuous industry. I have perhaps for one half or two (for
instance, last Easter half) worked hard, but I have not been
continuously improving, and adding knowledge to knowledge, half by
half. I feel it now, because I am sure that I know very little more
than I did at Easter. One thing I am improved in, which is writing
themes; and you will be pleased to know that Hawtrey has again given
me the School Theme prize, worth 5L., which counts for another sent
up exercise.'

In reply, the Judge, on July 22, wrote in the midst of the circuit,
from Stafford, a letter that might well do a son's heart good:--

'I rejoice in your finale, and shall be glad to see the exercise.
You have gone through Eton with great credit and reputation as a
scholar, and what is of more consequence, with perfect character as
to truth and conduct in every way. This can only be accounted for by
the assistance of the good Spirit of God first stirred up in you by
the instructions of your clear mother, than whom a more excellent
human being never existed. I pray God that this assistance may
continue through life, and keep you always in the same good course."

A few days more and the boy's departure from the enthusiastically
loved school had taken place, together with his final exploits as
captain in the cricket-field, where too he formed an acquaintance
with Mr. C. S. Roundell, the captain of the Harrow eleven, which
ripened into a lifelong friendship.

'You may suppose,' writes Coley, 'that I was really very miserable at
leaving Eton. I did not, I assure you, without thanking God for the
many advantages I have there enjoyed and praying for His forgiveness
for my sin in neglecting so many. We began our match with Harrow
yesterday, by going in first; we got 261 runs by tremendous hitting,
Harrow 32, and followed up and got 55: Eton thus winning in one
innings by 176 runs, the most decided beating ever known at cricket.'

So ended Coleridge Patteson's school life, not reaching to all he saw
that it might have been; but unstained, noble, happy, honourable, and
full of excellent training for the future man. No sting was left to
poison the fail-memory of youth; but many a friendship had been
formed on foundations of esteem, sympathy, and kindness which endured
through life, standing all tests of separation and difference.

CHAPTER III.

UNDERGRADUATE LIFE AT BALLIOL AND JOURNEYS ON THE CONTINENT.

1845--1852.

University life is apt to exert a strong influence upon a man's
career. It comes at the age at which there is probably the most
susceptibility to new impressions. The physical growth is over, and
the almost exclusive craving for exercise and sport is lessening;
there is more voluntary inclination to intellectual application, and
the mind begins to get fair play. There is also a certain liberty of
choice as to the course to be taken and the persons who shall become
guides, and this renders the pupilage a more willing and congenial
connection than that of the schoolboy: nor is there so wide a
distance in age and habits between tutor and pupil as between master
and scholar.

Thus it is that there are few more influential persons in the country
than leading University men, for the impress they leave is on the
flower of English youth, at the very time of life when thought has
come, but action is not yet required. At the same time the whole
genius loti, the venerable buildings with their traditions, the
eminence secured by intellect and industry, the pride that is taken
in the past and its great men, first as belonging to the University,
and next to the individual college, all give the members thereof a
sense of a dignity to keep up and of honour to maintain, and a
certainty of appreciation and fellow-feeling from the society with
which they are connected.

The Oxford of Patteson's day was yet untouched by the hand of
reformation. The Colleges were following or eluding the statutes of
their founders, according to the use that had sprung up, but there
had been a great quickening into activity of intellect, and the
religious influences were almost at their strongest. It was true
that the master mind had been lost to the Church of England, but the
men whom he and his companions had helped to form were the leaders
among the tutors, and the youths who were growing up under them were
forming plans of life, which many have nobly carried out, of
unselfish duty and devotion in their several stations.

Balliol had, under the mastership of Dr. Jenkyns, attained pre-
eminence for success in the schools, and for the high standard
required of its members, who formed 'the most delightful society, the
very focus of the most stimulating life of the University,' within
those unpretending walls, not yet revivified and enlarged.

Here Coleridge Patteson came to reside in the Michaelmas term of
1845; beginning with another attempt for the scholarship, in which he
was again unsuccessful, being bracketed immediately after the fourth
with another Etonian, namely, Mr. Hornby, the future head-master, His
friend, Edmund Bastard, several of his relations, and numerous
friends had preceded him; and he wrote to his sister Fanny:--

'You cannot think what a nice set of acquaintance I am gradually
slipping into. Palmer and myself take regular familiar walks; and
Riddell, another fellow who is the pet of the College, came up the
other evening and sat with me, and I breakfast with them, and dine,
&c. The only inconvenience attaching itself to such a number of men
is, that I have to give several parties, and as I meant to get them
over before Lent, I have been coining out rather strong in that line
lately, as the pastry-cook's bill for desserts will show in good
time.

'I have been asked to play cricket in the University eleven, and have
declined, though not without a little struggle, but cricket here,
especially to play in such matches as against Cambridge, &c., entails
almost necessarily idleness and expense.'

The struggle was hardly a little one to a youth whose fame in the
cricket field stood so high, and who was never happy or healthy
without strong bodily exercise. Nor had he outgrown his taste for
this particular sport. Professor Edwin Palmer (alluded to above)
describes him as at this time 'a thorough public schoolboy, with a
full capacity for enjoying undergraduate society and undergraduate
amusements, though with so fond a recollection of Eton that to some
of us he hardly seemed to appreciate Oxford sufficiently.'

Again, Mr. Roundell (his late adversary at Lord's) says: 'He was a
reluctant and half-interested sojourner was ever looking back to the
playing-fields of Eton, or forward to the more congenial sphere of a
country parish.' So it was his prime pleasure and glory that he thus
denied himself, though not with total abstinence, for he played
occasionally. I remember hearing of a match at Ottery, where he was
one of an eleven of Coleridge kith and kin against the rest of Devon.
His reputation in the field was such that, many years later, when he
chanced to be at Melbourne at the same time with the champion English
eleven, one of the most noted professional cricketers, meeting him in
the street, addressed him confidentially, 'I know, sir, the Bishop of
Melbourne does not approve of cricket for clergymen in public, but if
you would meet me in private at five o'clock to-morrow morning, and
let me give you a few balls, it would be a great satisfaction!'

Some resolution thus was required to prevent cricket from becoming a
tyrant, as so often befalls those whose skill renders them valuable.
Tennis became Coley's chief recreation, enabling him to work off his
superfluous energy at the expense of far less time than cricket
matches require, and in this, as in everything active, he soon
excelled.