350 Memoir of the Rev. Leonard Blomejield. 



insomuch that it has something of the nature of a new 

 departure. 



Enough has been said to intimate that he was very far from 

 realising that unification of Science and Faith, which has been 

 the intellectual ideal of maay, and may possibly, in some sense, 

 have been his own. But this did not appear to have any effect 

 in unsettling his religious convictions. These were rooted in a 

 ground of their own, in that ground which we are wont, by the 

 use of a world-wide metaphor, to call the Heart. Something 

 assured him that the Gospel was eternally true ; something 

 that was stronger than any scientific reasonings. He was not 

 the man to relinquish a friend who had once proved true, just 

 because there were points about him that baffled his under- 

 standing. I remember, many years ago, when the subject of 

 conversation was a conspicuous instance of Christianity beino; 

 treated with contempt by a great scientist, and when we had 

 passed from this to other signs of the same kind, such as 

 Agnosticism, I hinted that a re-action would come by and by, 

 and Mr Blomefield said, " Why, it would be a want of faith to 

 doubt it." This he said with a fire and impetuosity rare with 

 him, and it appeared to me a genuine and involuntary outburst, 

 which, at the same time, I took as something of a rebuke as if 

 I were too faint-hearted at the prospect. 



It was really too spontaneous to have been pointed with that 

 intention, but, even if it had been, it would have caused no 

 embarrassment on either side. Our relations were too sound to 

 be disturbed by such a cause. When first we met, in 1857, I 

 was young and he was already old, much older than his years 

 in appearance and manner, and I was conscious of the great 

 advantage of so valuable a neighbour, and I gave him my 

 homage and allegiance, which he seemed to accept as a matter 

 of course. For practical purposes the difference of age between 

 us was then at its greatest. One day Mr Oalverley, then rector 

 of Southstoke and Rural Dean, said to me that Leonard Jenyns 

 was the oldest man for his years that he knew. Very eai*ly 

 there rose between us that happy freemasonry which makes 

 misunderstanding all but impossible. Whether he did or did 

 not mean to convey a rebuke at the time spoken of, he was 

 quite able to do so when he thought the occasion required it. 

 I could accept any animadversion from one of such high moral 

 and intellectual character, so perfectly free from the tinge of 



