Born, at Malpas, Cheshire, 21 April 1783. First education at Whitchurch Grammar School; with private tutor, 1796–1800. Matric., Brasenose Coll., Oxford, 8 Nov. 1800; Latin verse prize, 1800; Newdigate, 1803; B.A., 1804; Fellow of All Souls, 1804; English Essay, 1805; M.A., 1808. Travelled in Germany, Russia and Crimea, 1805–07. Ordained, 1807; Vicar of Hodnet, 1807–23. Married Amelia Shipley, April 1809. Contrib. to “Christian Observer” and “Quarterly Review.” Prebendary of St. Asaph, 1812. Bampton Lecturer, Oxford, 1815. Preacher at Lincoln’s Inn, 1822. D.D., Oxford, by diploma, 10 Feb. 1823. Bishop of Calcutta, 1823. Died, at Trichinopoly, 3 April 1826. Buried there. Works: “A Sense of Honour” (prize essay), 1805; “Palestine” (Newdigate poem), 1807; “Europe,” 1809 (2nd edn. same year); “Poems,” 1812; “The Personality and Office of the Christian Comforter” (Bampton lectures), 1816. Posthumous: “Hymns,” edited by his wife, 1827; “Narrative of a Journey through the upper Provinces of India” (2 vols.), 1828; “Sermons preached in England,” ed. by Mrs. Heber, 1829; “Sermons preached in India,” ed. by Mrs. Heber, 1830; “Sermons,” ed. by Sir R. H. Inglis (3 vols.), 1837; “Poetical Works,” 1841. He edited: Jeremy Taylor’s works, 1822. Life: by Mrs. Heber (including correspondence and some unpublished works), 1830; by G. Smith, 1895.

Personal

  He—this eminent divine—goes to Calcutta in the very spirit of martyrdom; he carries all those fine and consecrated talents, all that wealth of knowledge, and that power of genius, to a region where they will be comparatively little understood or appreciated. You know, perhaps, that he goes out as Bishop. Mr. Canning, who greatly loves and admires him, urges him to stay for the first vacant English bishoprick. His brother, who has a large estate, and has no heirs, is equally averse to his going; but the highest and purest motives urge him to spend and be spent in the service of his Master.

  Heber’s recitation, like that of all poets whom we have heard recite, was altogether untrammelled by the critical laws of elocution, which were not set at defiance, but either by the poet unknown, or forgotten; and there was a charm in his somewhat melancholy voice, that occasionally faltered, less from a feeling of the solemnity, and even grandeur of the scene, of which he was himself the conspicuous object—though that feeling did not suffuse his pale, ingenuous, and animated countenance—than from the deep-felt sanctity of his subject, comprehending the most awful mysteries of God’s revelations to man. As his voice grew bolder and more sonorous in the hush, the audience felt that this was not the mere display of the skill and ingenuity of a clever youth, the accidental triumph of an accomplished versifier over his compeers in the dexterity of scholarship, which is all that can generally be truly said of such exhibitions,—but that here was a poet indeed, not only of bright promise, but of high achievement,—one whose name was already written in the roll of the Immortals. And that feeling, whatever might have been the share of the boundless enthusiasm, with which the poem was listened to, attributable to the influence of the genius loci, has been since sanctioned by the judgment of the world, that has placed “Palestine” at the very head of the poetry on divine subjects of this age. It is now incorporated for ever with the Poetry of England.

  Learned, polished, and dignified, he was undoubtedly; yet far more conspicuously kind, humble, tolerant, and laborious—zealous for his church too, and not forgetful of his station; but remembering it more for the duties than for the honours that were attached to it, and infinitely more zealous for the religious improvement, and for the happiness, and spiritual and worldly good of his fellow-creatures, of every tongue, faith, and complexion: indulgent to all errors and infirmities—liberal, in the best and truest sense of the word—humble and conscientiously diffident of his own excellent judgment and never-failing charity—looking on all men as the children of one God, on all Christians as the redeemed of one Saviour, and on all Christian teachers as fellow-labourers, bound to help and encourage each other in their arduous and anxious task. His portion of the work, accordingly, he wrought faithfully, zealously, and well; and, devoting himself to his duty with a truly apostolical fervour, made no scruple to forego, for its sake, not merely his personal ease and comfort, but those domestic affections which were ever so much more valuable in his eyes, and in the end, we fear, consummating the sacrifice with his life.

  I read Reginald Heber’s “Journal” after dinner. I spent some merry days with him at Oxford when he was writing his prize poem. He was then a gay young fellow, a wit and a satirist, and burning for literary fame. My laurels were beginning to bloom, and we were both madcaps. Who would have foretold our future lot?

  We thank Him for the great missionary pioneer, whose voice first in many parts of India proclaimed the conquests of the Gospel, and set an example for all of us that follow. We thank Him for the Christian gentleman who could, in the midst of English society, set a pattern of holiness without assumption, and kindly courtesy with true purity of word and thought. We thank Him for the scholar and divine, country clergyman and country gentleman, who, at the call of duty, gave up home and country, and rest, and ease, and society, and comfort, and culture to do the will of Him that called him, and to perfect His work. We thank Him for the pattern which, in and by this His ministering servant, he set us of manly performance of duty and entire devotion to work. And thanking Him and honouring Him who has blessed His servant with so many great and excellent gifts, and led him all his life through from strength to strength, we pray that we may each, according to his measure and in his own place, have grace to follow so good an example.

  A patriot in the most stirring period of our national history, he was of no party in the Church. A theologian of ripe scholarship and evangelic zeal, he resented alike the extremes of the so-called Calvinists, and the pelagianism of the Arminians of his day. He was for Christ; he loved and he did much to elevate the great Reformed Church which he loyally served; he worked with all good men, or wished them well in the one divinely commanded cause. His short episcopate, while he was still a young man, was the rich and fruitful outcome of such zeal, such wisdom, and such charity.

Hymns

  These “Hymns” have been by far the most popular of his productions, and deservedly so; for in purity and elevation of sentiment, in simple pathos, and in eloquent earnestness, it would be difficult to find anything superior to them in the range of sacred lyric poetry. They have the home-truth of Watts, but rank much higher, as literary compositions, than the “Moral and Divine Songs” of that great benefactor of youth; and all the devotion of Wesley or Keble, without their langour and diffuse verbosity. Heber always writes like a Christian scholar, and never finds it necessary to lower his tone on account of his subjects.

  Dear to every section of the Christian Church are the sweet measures of the poet-bishop, Heber…. Some of them are odes, but all are infused with the poetic element to the highest degree.

  Bishop Reginald Heber has a sure renown in several ways. He was truly a poet, as his “Palestine” denotes. He was a dignitary of the Church of England, who employed his high office for the worthiest ends. He was a traveller, whose “Journey Through India,” published in 1828, showed what fine powers of observation and reflection he possessed. He was filled with genuine missionary zeal, as his religious work and his immortal lyric, “From Greenland’s icy mountains,” alike testify. And, to crown all, he is one of the most graceful, spiritual and effective of English hymn-writers.

  Some of his hymns rank with the best in English.

  “From Greenland’s Icy Mountains.” This hymn was written by Heber at short notice in 1819. Dean Shipley asked him one Saturday to prepare some verses to be sung at the missionary service to be held next morning. Heber sat down and dashed off these verses, which speedily became the favourite missionary hymn of the English-speaking world.

General

  This is another book [“A Journey Through India”] for Englishmen to be proud of…. Independently of its moral attraction, we are induced to think it, on the whole, the most instructive and important publication that has ever been given to the world on the actual state and condition of our Indian Empire…. He surveys every thing with the vigilance and delight of a cultivated and most active intellect,—with the eye of an artist, and antiquary, and a naturalist,—the feelings and judgment of an English gentleman and scholar,—the sympathies of a most humane and generous man,—and the piety, charity, and humility of a Christian.

  We wish that we could speak as highly of his sermons as we might of his character; but we cannot. We confess that we were disappointed in them; and we will venture to assert, that if they become popular, it will be because he wrote them, and not because they are of high value themselves. They are certainly much above mediocrity, and take a respectable rank among the volumes of English practical divinity; but few will ever think of placing them with the first sermons in the language. Though not absolutely unconnected in their trains of thought, yet they are greatly deficient in that clear method and arrangement which is one of the most indispensable requisites in sermon writing; and though there is a vein of good sense running through them, the mind of the intelligent reader is very seldom arrested by passages which task its attention, or set its powers at work. Diffusiveness seems to us to be the reigning characteristic of their style; and hence arise the breathless and almost endless sentences, which abound in them more than in any other sermons with which we are acquainted.

  As a poet he could not have supported the reputation which his “Palestine” obtained, for it was greatly above its deserts, and the character of the poem, moreover, was not hopeful; it was too nicely fitted to the taste of the age. Poetry should have its lights and shades, like painting; like music, its sink and swell, its relief and its repose. So far as the piece was intended for success in a competition for a prize, and for effect in public recitation, it was certainly judiciously done to make every line tell upon the ear. But to all such poetry the motto under one of Quarles’s Emblems may be applied: tinnit, inane est.

  The lyrical writings of Heber possess great and peculiar merits. He is the only Englishman who has in any degree approached the tone of Pindar, his translations from whom may be regarded as nearly faultless; and his hymns are among the sweetest which English literature contains, breathing a fervent devotion in the most poetical language and most melodious verse. I doubt whether there is a religious lyric so universally known in the British empire or in our own country, as the beautiful missionary piece beginning “From Greenland’s icy mountains.” The fragments of “Morte d’Arthur,” the “Mask of Gwendolen,” and the “World before the Flood,” are not equal to his “Palestine,” “Europe,” or minor poems; but they contain elegant and powerful passages. The only thing unworthy of his reputation which I have seen is “Blue Beard,” a serio-comic oriental romance, which I believe was first published after his death.

  The qualities of Heber are well understood. His poetry is of a high order. He is imaginative, glowing, and vigorous, with a skill in the management of his means unsurpassed by that of any writer of his time, but without any high degree of originality. Can there be anything in the nature of a “classical” life at war with novelty per se? At all events, few fine scholars, such as Heber truly was, are original.

  Next to his hymns, Bishop Heber is best known by the journal he kept of his visitation tour, not intended for publication, but containing so much of vivid description of scenery and manners, that it forms a valuable picture of the condition of Hindostan as it then was.

  If we were to say that Bishop Heber was a sort of male twin to Mrs. Hemans, we fear that the comparison would be received with little favour by many readers. So few of the poets of the time accomplished all the rites of education, and trained themselves, as ancient tradition bade, on the classic models, that it is disappointing to find, in the rare instance of a fully-qualified academical poet, an example so little remarkable as this excellent and blameless soul. In the dearth of writers properly marked with the sign-manual of the Universities, it ought to be noted that Heber gained the prize of poetry at Oxford, fulfilled all his studies there with distinction, and became a fellow of All-Souls. So much for so little! But it has never ceased to be true that poets must be born, and can not be made…. His poems are the utterance of the most spotless of well-regulated minds and devout spirits. It is doubtful whether the best of poets ever produced anything more widely known and popular than the “Missionary Hymn” about “Greenland’s icy mountains,” or that which celebrates the Star in the East of the Epiphany. So that this mild singer had his reward of the most liberal kind in the affectionate enthusiasm with which the simple-hearted religious crowd regards the writers of its sacred songs. The kind of tranquil life he led, and the boundless correspondence which proceeded from his rectory, have been put before the world on various occasions. His letters were voluminous and fluent, and always, it need hardly be said, perfect in sentiment: but they have few literary attractions.

  In poetical style he is our last eminent representative of Pope and Addison.

  Much of Heber’s poetical work was “occasional,” and for the production of “occasional” verse his qualities eminently fitted him. “Palestine” was an occasional poem, and for the purpose of its occasion was a success, though it lacks the qualities necessary to secure permanent interest. He was equal to the occasion, but the subject was too big for him…. His hymn, “From Greenland’s Icy Mountains,” written for a service at Wrexham Church, at which his father-in-law, the Dean of St. Asaph, preached on behalf of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, and some half dozen others, are at the full tide of their popularity, nearly a century after they were first sung, and seem as unlikely to go out of favour as they were when they first caught the ears, and gave expression to the feelings of Christian worshippers nearly a hundred years ago. In other occasional and isolated efforts Heber showed a versatility which would doubtless have served him had he cared to follow the leadings of the lighter muse.