t stimulated the minds of his
hearers, and gave the impression of his own perfect candour and
perfect courage. He used to say that as he felt it his duty to speak
wherever he was asked to do so, he must needs speak without
preparation, and must therefore expect sometimes to get into hot
water; that this was a pity, but it was not his fault that he was
reported, and that it was better to run the risk of making mistakes
and suffering for them than to refuse out of self-regarding caution to
give the best of himself to the diocese. He had that true modesty
which makes a man willing to do a thing imperfectly, at the risk of
lowering his intellectual reputation. He knew that he was neither a
deep thinker nor a finished preacher, and was content to be what he
was, so long as he could perform the work which it was in him to do.
He lost no opportunity of meeting the working men, would go and talk
to them in the yards of the mills or at the evening gatherings of
mechanics' institutes; and when any misfortune befell, such as a
colliery accident, he was often among the first who reached the spot
to help the survivors and comfort the widows. He made no difference
between rich and poor, showed no wish to be a guest in the houses of
the great, and treated the poorest curate with as much courtesy as the
most pompous county magnate. His work in Lancashire seldom allowed him
to appear in the House of Lords; and this he regretted, not that he
desired to speak there, but because, as he said, "Whether or not
bishops do Parliament good, Parliament does bishops good."
Such a simple, earnest, active course of conduct told upon the
feelings of the people who read of his words and doings. But even
greater was the impression made by his personality upon those who saw
him. He was a tall, well-built man,[31] erect in figure, with a quick
eye, a firm step, a ruddy face, an expression of singular heartiness
and geniality. He seemed always cheerful, and, in spite of his endless
labours, always fresh and strong. His smile and the grasp of his hand
put you into good-humour with yourself and the world; if you were
dispirited, they led you out of shadow into sunlight. He was not a
great reader, and had no time for sustained and searching thought; yet
he seemed always abreast of what was passing in the world, and to know
what the books and articles and speeches of the day contained,
although he could not have found time to peruse them. With strong
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