, and he had poetry in his veins, being the son of the
well-known author of the 'Devonshire Lane.' No one sacrificed himself so
entirely to the cause, giving to it all that he had and all that he was,
as Charles Marriott. He did not gather large congregations; he did not
write works of genius to spread his name over the land, and to all time;
he had few of the pleasures or even of the comforts that spontaneously
offer themselves in any field of enterprise. He laboured day and night
in the search and defence of Divine Truth. His admirers were not the
thousands, but the scholars who could really appreciate. I confess to
have been a little ashamed of myself when Bishop Burgess asked me about
Charles Marriott, as one of the most eminent scholars of the day.
Through sheer ignorance I had failed in adequate appreciation." In his
later years he became a member of the new Hebdomadal Council at Oxford,
and took considerable part in working the new constitution of the
University. In an epidemic of smallpox at Oxford in 1854, he took his
full share in looking after the sick, and caught the disorder; but he
recovered. At length, in the midst of troublesome work and many
anxieties, his life of toil was arrested by a severe paralytic seizure,
29th June 1855. He partially rallied, and survived for some time longer;
but his labours were ended. He died at Bradfield, 25th September 1858.
He was worn out by variety and pressure of unintermitted labour, which
he would scarcely allow any change or holiday to relieve. Exhaustion
made illness, when it came, fatal.

FOOTNOTES:

[31] "He told me," writes a relative, "that questions about trade used
to occupy him very early in life. He used to ponder how it could be
right to sell things for more than they cost you."

[32] "He had his own way of doing everything, and used most stoutly to
protest that it was quite impossible that he should do it in any
other."--_MS. Memoir_ by his brother, John Marriott.

[33] _Uniomachia_, 1833.

[34] "This became the main task of his life us long as health was
continued to him. All who knew him well will remember how laboriously he
worked at it, and how, in one shape or another, it was always on hand.
Either he was translating, or correcting the translation of others; or
he was collating MSS., or correcting the press. This last work was
carried on at all times and wherever he was--on a journey, after
dinner--even in a boat, he would pull out a sheet and go