’With regard to the opera, I have never seen Weber or Meyerbeer’s works given so perfectly and conscientiously as at Dresden.  Patteson’s chief delight was the Midsummer Night’s Dream, with Mendelssohn’s music.  He had a tuneful baritone voice and a correct ear for music.  We hired a piano for our sitting-room; and, though I failed to induce him to cultivate his voice, and join me in taking lessons, he sang some of Mendelssohn’s Lieder very pleasingly, and knew most of the bass music from the Messiah by heart.  He began to play a few scales on the piano, and hoped to surprise his sisters on his return to England by playing chants, but the Arabic and Hebrew studies proved too absorbing; he grudged the time, and thought the result disproportioned to the sacrifice.

’In our daily walks we talked constantly of Church matters.  Some sharp and sad experiences in the loss of more than one of his Eton and Oxford friends, who had abandoned the Church of England, failed to shake his confidence in the Church he was to serve so faithfully and to die for so gloriously.  His faith and daily practice seem to me a protest and warning against the folly, if not the falsehood, of extremes.  Moderation, quiet consistency of life, and unswerving loyalty to a faith which had been the joy and comfort of his dear mother, whose loveable nature he inherited and reflected, a blameless life and unfailing charity enabled him when the time came to live a life of incessant toil, and face a martyr’s death.  I remember the present Bishop of Carlisle inciting Cambridge undergraduates to become, by virtue of earnestness, gentleness, and toleration, “guides not judges, lights not firebrands.”  He drew a perfect description of Patteson, who came more completely up to that ideal than anyone I ever knew.  Here was a man capable of the purest and most tender friendship, with an exquisite appreciation of all that is noblest in life, and he was ready to give up all, and content to lead the forlorn hope of Christianity, and perish in the front ranks of the noble army.  “And having been a little tried he shall be greatly rewarded, for God proved him, and found him worthy for Himself.” ’

I have given this letter almost entire, because it shows the impression Coley made on one, little his junior, in the intimate associations of cousin, neighbour, and schoolfellow, as well as travelling companion.

This year seems to have been a marked stage of development.  He was now twenty-five, and the boyish distaste for mental exertion which had so long rendered study an effort of duty had passed into full scholarly enjoyment.  The individuality and originality of his mind had begun to awaken, and influenced probably by the German atmosphere of thought in which he was working, were giving him that strong metaphysical bent which characterised his tone through life, and became apparent in his sermons when he addressed an educated audience.