Transcribed from the 1894 Hodder and Stoughton edition by David Price,
email ccx074@pglaf.org.
RECOLLECTIONS OF A
LONG LIFE
* * * * *
BY
JOHN STOUGHTON, D.D
AUTHOR OF “ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND,” “STARS OF THE EAST,”
ETC., ETC.
* * * * *
London
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
27, PATERNOSTER ROW
* * * * *
MDCCCXCIV
* * * * *
* * * * *
Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.
* * * * *
THIS VOLUME OF RECOLLECTIONS
IS DEDICATED
TO MY LIFE-LONG FRIEND
THE REV. JOSHUA CLARKSON HARRISON,
WHOSE WISDOM HAS AIDED ME IN PERPLEXITY,
WHOSE SYMPATHY HAS CHEERED MY SORROWS
AND ENHANCED MY JOYS,
AND WHOSE CONSTANT FRIENDSHIP HAS BEEN
THE PRIVILEGE OF MY FAMILY
AS WELL AS MYSELF.
J. S.
ADVERTISEMENT
MORE than forty years ago I edited the autobiography of the Rev. W.
Walford. This book, which fully answers to its name, is a remarkable
production, entering into the secrets of the author’s soul, unveiling the
struggles and sorrows of a mysterious experience.
The work now published is of a very different kind. It really relates to
others more than to myself, and brings within view some incidents of
religious history and aspects of personal character more interesting than
any confined to my own experience. It presents associations during a
long period spent in various work, in distant journeys, and in friendly
intercourse with many distinguished persons.
I enter into no theological discussion, or any relation of spiritual
conflicts, the results of such introspection, as the autobiography of my
departed friend describes. I only give recollections of what I have seen
and heard, especially in relation to those whom it has been my privilege
to regard as more or less intimate friends.
It was just after retirement from Kensington that I began to gather up
the following reminiscences, with a permission that my family might
publish them after my decease. They were then put aside, and not looked
at for years.
Within the last few months it has struck me that so many likely to feel
an interest in my Recollections have passed away, and others are so far
advanced in life, that if the publication be longer delayed, few indeed
will be left likely to feel any interest in my narrative.
Conscious of failures in memory at my advanced age, I have availed myself
of memoranda made when travelling, long before any book of this kind was
contemplated.
I have been greatly helped in this volume by my dear daughter, with whom
I reside, who has frequently accompanied me in my travels, and been my
valued secretary at home. Without her aid I could not have brought these
Recollections through the press.
TUNBRIDGE WELLS,
_January_, 1894.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
1807–1828
PAGE
Birth and boyhood in Norwich—Education—My mother—Early 1–18
tastes—First sight of the sea—Public events—Early
studies—Roman Catholicism—Friendships—Religious
change—The Christian ministry—College days
CHAPTER II
1828–1832
Fellow-students—Public excitements—Old House of 19–38
Commons—William IV.—Popular preachers in London: Daniel
Wilson, Rowland Hill, James Parsons, Irving, Dr.
Chalmers—Monthly lectures—Work amongst the poor—Political
excitement
CHAPTER III
1832–1837
First sight of Windsor—Anecdotes of George III.—Rev. A. 39–58
Redford—New chapel and ordination—Bishop Selwyn—Funeral
of William IV.—Queen Victoria’s coronation and
wedding—Chaplainship to a Highland regiment—Eton
Montem—Windsor Auxiliary to Bible Society—Queen’s
patronage—Windsor a century ago—Eton Institute—Early
friendships
CHAPTER IV
1837–1843
Sir Culling Eardley and tent preaching—Case of 59–75
conscience—Public questions—Missionary tours—Newstead
Abbey—Byron and Scott—Royal visit to Edinburgh—Up the
Rhine—The Rev. W. Walford—Bagster, the publisher—Radicals
a century, ago—John Bergne, of the Foreign
Office—Tractarian controversy, and No. 90
CHAPTER V
1843–1850
Removal to Kensington—Life of Dr. Arnold—Ladies’ schools 76–100
at Kensington—Kensington friends—Archdeacon
Sinclair—British Schools and Duchess of Inverness—British
and Foreign Bible Society; London Missionary
Society—Young Men’s Christian Association—Evangelical
Alliance—Sub Rosâ—Tractarianism and Dr. Pusey—Political
excitement—Visit to Geneva—Cæsar Malan—Notting Hill
Chapel—Father of Rev. F. D. Maurice—Visit to Newport
Pagnell and the haunts of the poet Cowper
CHAPTER VI
1850–1854
The papal aggression—Discourses on the Romanist 101–119
controversy—Palace of glass—Evangelical lectures in
Exeter Hall—Memorial of Dr. Doddridge—Visit to Germany
and Switzerland; thence to Milan, Verona, and
Venice—Intercourse at Kensington with remarkable people
CHAPTER VII
1854–1862
Visit to Rome: Holy Week, Pio Nono and the feet-washing, 120–137
Catacombs—Naples—Vesuvius—New chapel at
Kensington—Commencement of the Congregational
Union—Algernon Wells—The “Rivulet” controversy—Visit to
Berlin, Dresden, Schandau, and Prague—Affecting sudden
death at Kensington—Family bereavements—Tour in the
Pyrenees—St. Sauveur, the Emperor Napoleon, and Empress
Eugenie
CHAPTER VIII
1862–1865
Bicentenary of Bartholomew ejectment—Family 138–161
bereavements—Commencement of friendship with Dean
Stanley—His sermon on “The Feast of the Dedication”—His
sermon when the American President was present—My Eastern
tour: Alexandria, Cairo, the Desert, Approach to the Holy
City, Communion in the Episcopal Church, Dr. Rosen, Story
about the Sinaitic MS., Hebron, Eshcol, Solomon’s Pools,
Monastery of St. Saba, the Dead Sea, Jordan, Across
Olivet to Jerusalem, Journey to Bethel and onwards to
Damascus, Reflections crossing the Mediterranean, Rhodes,
Storm, Smyrna, Ephesus, Constantinople—Home by the
Danube, Germany, and Belgium—Reflections
CHAPTER IX
1865–1872
Church history—Visit to Dr. Hook, Dean of 162–200
Chichester—Anecdotes of Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford—The
Dean’s life at Leeds—Extracts from his
letters—Acquaintance with Dr. Swainson—At Cambridge when
the announcement of wranglers occurred—Disraeli’s
school-boy days—Social gatherings to promote union—The
Archbishop of Syra at Westminster—Acquaintance with
Matthew Arnold—Publication of “Ecclesia”—Friendly
intercourse with Bible Revisionists—The Right Honourable
Cowper Temple’s bill for opening Church pulpits to
Nonconformists—Extension of Oxford University—Debate in
the House of Lords—Dinners at Mr. George Moore’s house
after the annual Bible meetings in Exeter Hall—Death of
Dean Alford and of Sir Donald Macleod—Party at Lambeth
Palace—Bishop Wilberforce’s extemporary power—Dr.
Guthrie’s social habits—The education question—Athenæum
Club—Academy Dinner—“Ecce Homo,” and Lord Shaftesbury
CHAPTER X
1873
Voyage to America for the General Meeting of the 201–229
Evangelical Alliance—Hospitality of the President, the
Honourable Mr. Dodge—Visit to Sunnyside, where Washington
Irving lived, and to the Mountain House overlooking the
Hudson—The Niagara Falls—Four days spent on the
banks—Description of scenery—Montreal, Boston, Andover,
New Haven, and New Plymouth—New York—Proceedings at the
Conference—Reception of 600 guests by Mr. Dodge—Meetings
at Princeton, Philadelphia, and Washington—Note from the
poet Longfellow—Letter of Abraham Lincoln to Mr. Gurney
CHAPTER XI
1874–1875
Death of Dr. Binney—His opinion respecting the exclusion 230–250
of liturgical worship—Unveiling of Bunyan’s statue at
Bedford—Unveiling of Baxter’s statue at
Kidderminster—Anecdote of Fletcher’s preaching at
Madeley—Meeting at Kensington on my retirement—Dr.
Stanley’s speech—Kensington friendships—Results of visits
to the poor—Methods of preaching
CHAPTER XII
1875–1879
Luther celebrations—Death of Lady Augusta Stanley—Her “At 251–284
Homes”—Anecdotes of Lamartine, Guizot, and Lord
Russell—Touching words—Funeral in Westminster Abbey—The
three benedictions—The Dean’s account of the Royal
Marriage at St. Petersburg—Breakfast at Lambeth with
Archbishop Tait, and conversation relative to a
conference between Conformists and Nonconformists: The
plan, The meeting, Subject discussed—Character of the
Primate—Visit of the Queen to Mrs. Bagster, who was
nearly 100 years old—My pilgrimages to Ban de la Roche
and Broad Oak—Days at the Deanery with Dr. Stanley—My
lectures at Edinburgh—Scottish society—Singular discovery
of lost MSS.—Conference at Basle—Addresses of President
M. D. Sarasin—Death of Mrs. Stoughton
CHAPTER XIII
1879–1883
Conversation with a distinguished nobleman upon ideas of 285–313
religion amongst the upper classes—Days at Spezzia, Pisa,
and Florence—Introduction to Cardinal Howard, who sent an
invitation to visit him—Conversation with a friend of
his—The Cardinal’s reception very cordial—Offers of a
special introduction to the Vatican Library
authorities—Successful day in consequence—Protestant
brethren in Rome—Christian antiquities—Dr. Somerville’s
mission—Drive to Subiaco—Home through Venice—Revisit to
Italy in 1881—Special work in library at Florence amongst
memorials of Savonarola—Death of Dr. Stanley—Character
and habits—Cromwell’s skull—Tour in Germany—Sir William
McArthur’s mayoralty—Death of Archbishop Tait—Excursion
to the Grande Chartreuse
CHAPTER XIV
1883–1885
Journey to Spain in preparation of book on Spanish 314–337
Reformers: Through France to Figueras, Barcelona,
Tarragona, Poblet, Valencia, Cordova, Granada, Seville,
Madrid, Escorial, Toledo, Valladolid, Burgos
CHAPTER XV
1885
Third and last visit to Rome—Changes in the city and its 338–360
surroundings—Where did Paul live during his
captivity?—Evangelical Alliance meetings at Edinburgh and
Glasgow—Death of Lord Chichester—Mr. Cheetham,
M.P.—Visits to Dr. Magee, Bishop of Peterborough—Lord
Ebury and Moor Park—Friends in Norfolk—Increase of Roman
Catholics in Kensington—Chapel openings at
Hastings—Autumnal meeting in 1886 at Norwich—Bishop’s
palace
CHAPTER XVI
I. Church of England—II. Presbyterians—III. 361–391
Baptists—IV. The Friends—V. Methodists—VI.
Congregationalists
CHAPTER I
1807–1828
I WAS born in the parish of St. Michaels-at-Plea, Norwich, November 18th,
1807. My father was in some respects a remarkable man. For his great
integrity, he won the name of “the honest lawyer”; he would undertake no
cause, if unconvinced of its justice, and declined the office of coroner
because its duties would have shocked his feelings. Of strong
understanding, and fond of reading, after living a thoughtless life, he
became an earnest Christian, and worshipped with Methodists, chiefly from
circumstances—still regarding himself as a member of the Established
Church. Two elder sisters and an elder brother of mine were baptised by
the parish clergyman; so was I, the Archdeacon of London being my
godfather. I have been told that I “was intended for the Church,” and
some Episcopalian friends have amused themselves with speculations as to
what might have been the result.
My mother before she married was a Quakeress, and used to tell of eminent
“Friends” she knew in her girlhood, especially Edmund Gurney, who
preached “with great power” in the Gildencroft Meeting House. She was
brought up a Quakeress by her mother, but her father was, at least in
later life, a staunch Methodist. She remembered John Wesley, and used to
tell how he took her up as a child and kissed her.
My father died in my fifth year. Of him I have but a faint recollection.
My grandfather, at a distance now of seventy-five years, visibly stands
before me—a tall old gentleman with flaxen wig, large spectacles, a long,
blue, bright-buttoned coat, and big buckled shoes. He was Master of
Bethel Hospital, an institution for the insane, in my native city; and,
as I spent much time with him for a year before his death, I saw and
heard a good deal of the patients under his care. “Master,” said one of
them, “I want to propose a toast—may the devil never go abroad or receive
visitors at home.” “What brought you here?” somebody asked an inmate.
“The loss of what you never had, or you would not ask such a question,”
was the prompt reply. A man who fancied himself King of England drew on
his cell wall pictures of ships which he called his fleet, and would
never speak unless he was addressed as “Your Majesty.” I once narrowly
escaped severe injury from a woman, who seized me as her child and
squeezed me so hard, that no violence could induce her to relax her
grasp; but gentle words, and a promise that I should be taken care of,
secured my release. Alternate severity and indulgence, at that time, in
the treatment of patients led to a sad tragedy in the case of my
grandfather, who was killed by a man employed as gardener. He was
thought to be harmless, and used to mow the lawn. One morning he drew
the scythe across his master’s body and nearly cut him in two.
My mother had a dream the night before, and saw in it her father lying on
a bed, pale as ashes, which she interpreted as meaning something terrible
would happen to him. When, at breakfast time, she was told by a
gentleman of what had occurred, she coupled it with what she had seen in
her sleep.
We were living at the time in a very old house with diamond-paned
windows, a brick-paved entrance hall, and some rambling passages. I well
remember the little bedroom in which I slept. There resided with us an
old lady, widow of a Norwich gentleman, who had been a friend of the
famous George Whitefield. She used to tell anecdotes of the popular
preacher—how he called himself Dr. Squintum, and, when supping off
cowheel, a dish he liked, would say, he wondered what people would think
of his being so employed.
My mother had a strong verbal memory which her son has not inherited; and
it enabled her to instruct and entertain me by reciting long extracts in
prose and poetry. She was a great reader and did much to instruct and
cultivate my mind by her frequent recitations. My education owes more to
this, and other circumstances, than to schoolmasters under whom I was
placed. However, of course, rudiments of knowledge fell to my lot in the
usual way; but my culture in chief resulted from devouring books, from
instructive conversation, and from the delight I felt in observing
nature, and looking on what was ancient. When other boys were at play, I
liked to get by myself and read; biography and history having for me
pre-eminent charms. Lord Nelson had been dead only a few years at the
time I speak of, and what I learnt about him as a Norfolk man immensely
gratified my curiosity. His aunt was a friend of my grandmother, and
great was my delight to see and hear such a distinguished lady; the
gratification being enhanced by a bright shilling she slipped into my
hand. The river Wensum, old trees by the water-side, the picturesque
village of Thorpe, Whitlingham White House and woods, the uplands of
Mousehold, walled-in gardens all over the city, wild hedgerows, sheltered
nooks and corners under weeping willows, cattle feeding in green meadows,
and swans swimming on the river—these objects afforded me an æsthetic
education.
From a child I took an interest in historical tales, and felt delight in
listening to my mother’s memories of early days. She recollected the
American war, and spoke of a family dispute amongst her elders, which
lasted just as long—ten years. Excitement in William Pitt’s day she
brought vividly before me; and she told how Thelwall, the orator,
delivered revolutionary harangues, and being attacked by a mob, he was
glad to escape by clambering over the roofs of houses. The trials of
Horne Tooke, Hardy, and others, and Erskine’s famous speeches in their
defence, were in my boyhood modern incidents. Objects in the city
excited archæological tastes. The Norman keep, Herbert de Lozinga’s
Cathedral, Erpingham Gate, the Grammar School, the Bishop’s palace, with
ruins in the garden, dilapidated towers on the edge of the river, Guild
Hall, St. Andrew’s Hall, and the Old Men’s Hospital—these had for me a
mighty charm, creating fancies by day and dreams by night. The East
Anglian city had not old houses such as Prout found on the Continent, but
it contained picturesque, tumble-down tenements, and other “bits,”
sketched in “Highways and Byeways of Old Norwich.” The sight of these
created a habit of looking after ancient quaint remains, which has never
forsaken me.
Guild day, with its triumphal arches, carpets and flags hung out of
windows, Darby and Joan sitting in a green arbour, the Mayor’s coach
attended by “Snap,” and the “whifflers”; the rush-strewn cathedral
pavement, as the Corporation marched up the nave—all this gave birth to
boyish enthusiasm for the picturesque. Every Guild day, on a green baize
platform near the west door of the cathedral, the head boy of the Grammar
School delivered a Latin oration before his Worship. What envy that boy
aroused in my bosom! Elections, too, were objects of intense interest to
me as a childish politician, when Whig candidates were carried in
blue-and-white satin chairs, on the shoulders of men who tossed them up,
as the Goths did their heroes upon battle shields.
As to another part of my education, I loved to read the lives of eminent
people, and devoured a good many memoirs of men and women in religious
magazines. Norwich was at that time distinguished for literary,
artistic, and benevolent celebrities; and I felt proud as a boy to think
of them as pertaining to my own birthplace. The appearance of several
amongst them I have still, after the lapse of seventy years, vividly
before me—Mrs. Opie, the Taylors, the Martineaus, Joseph John Gurney, and
Bishop Bathurst, with several beside.
May I add, the first sight of the sea at Yarmouth I can never forget. It
was a November morning in my ninth year. The sky looked angry; the
wind-swept waters and tall billows broke furiously on the beach; the hulk
of a stranded vessel lay on the sands—emblem of life’s shattered hopes.
Public excitements prevailed in my boyish days beyond what the present
generation has witnessed. After the battle of Waterloo, and the
consequent peace, which was coupled with an idea of plenty, large loaves
were paraded on poles as symbols of abundant food, mistakenly supposed to
come as a natural consequence now that Buonaparte was conquered. There
arose, instead of this, much distress amongst the lower class, greatly
owing to corn-laws enacted for the protection of agricultural interests.
Bread riots followed, and I now catch glimpses of a mob in 1816 marching
to the New Mills to sack a granary, and shoot into the flushes of the
river Wensum, loads of grain and flour. Such tumults were surpassed in
breadth and depth of feeling, amongst the upper class, by the excitement
attending the return to England of Queen Caroline after the accession of
George IV. in 1820. Never have I known such agitation in private
circles, as when society split from top to bottom on the question of her
Majesty’s character and wrongs. For months there were almost incessant
processions from London to Hammersmith in honour of the lady, who was
sojourning at Brandenburgh House. Unnumbered addresses were presented to
her, and whenever her carriage appeared, it evoked rapturous shouts.
During her trial things were done and said startling beyond parallel.
Documents full of abominable details were deposited in a “green bag,”
which called to mind the words in Job xiv. 17; and when filthy evidence
was furnished on the king’s side against his wife, counsel on her side
attacked him as a second Nero, and compared him to the infernal shadow in
Milton, which “the likeness of a kingly crown had on.” Round the
hearthstone families and friends were divided on this absorbing subject;
and such word battles as Home Rule now occasions were then far surpassed.
My school days over, I entered a lawyer’s office. He put into my hands
“Blackstone’s Commentaries,” which interested me less in what was said
about real and personal property, the rights of things and the rights of
persons, with the law of descent and entail, than in what appeared
touching legislation, and the principles of government. De Lolme on “The
Constitution,” I read with avidity. Having to attend the Law Courts at
times, I listened to forensic eloquence with great interest; a love for
oratory being further gratified by hearing speeches at public meetings
when Lord Suffield and Joseph John Gurney advocated negro emancipation
and other reforms.
Theological discussions interested me immensely. The lawyer in whose
office I was became a Roman Catholic, and, finding me an inquisitive
youngster, talked on the subject, explaining the doctrines and ceremonies
of his Church. Whilst the information he gave me was worth having, I
determined to read Milner’s “End of Religious Controversy,” and other
Catholic books; and beyond my interest respecting matters of an
antiquarian flavour, I felt the importance of ascertaining true grounds
for Protestant beliefs. My master took me once a week to North Walsham,
and in cold winter nights, as the moon shone on the snow-sprinkled
hedges, plied me with arguments for transubstantiation, purgatory, and
the like. I ventured humbly to dispute his positions, and to contend for
truths on the opposite side; though the match was unequal between a boy
of fifteen and a man of forty, primed by the priest to whom he owed his
conversion. Those night drives were useful, and led me to see some of
the better aspects of Roman Catholic faith and character, whilst they
aroused inquiry, and led to clearer convictions than I might otherwise
have reached respecting principles in debate. Here let me observe that
early intercourse with friends of different denominations has in the best
sense broadened my habit of looking at questions, and inspired a
tolerance, not of error itself, but of persons holding error, because
they are often better than their creeds, and have in them a great deal
that is good, as well as something of another quality. Quiet intercourse
in early life with members of various denominations I find to have been a
school for the culture of Christian charity.
Removed when about sixteen to another office, with the idea of entering
the legal profession, I met with fellow-clerks of education and taste,
who proved very helpful; one in particular became an intimate friend. He
had been a favourite pupil of an eminent classical schoolmaster, and was
well up in Horace. We had much talk on subjects of common interest. His
temperament had a melancholy tinge, owing to his state of health, for he
was in a slow consumption, but behind dark clouds there lay a sky full of
humour, and his conversation often sparkled with unaffected wit. He
could be a little satirical at the expense of juvenile follies, in which
he did not share; whilst amiability kept him from giving pain to the most
sensitive. Our friendship continued until his early death, when he
passed away “in the faith and hope of the Gospel.”
Amongst early educational influences which I enjoyed may be reckoned the
opportunities I had of listening to public speakers of different
kinds—lawyers at the bar, preachers in the pulpit, orators on the
platform, and candidates during elections; for Norwich was contested most
earnestly in my boyhood. Moreover, the city was remarkable for musical
culture. It had weekly concerts. Festivals also occurred; these I
attended again and again with much enjoyment. My friends who know my
ignorance of music will smile at this.
It might be when I was about seventeen that on a Sunday morning I took a
walk into the country with a volume of Chalmers’ sermons under my arm. I
read one of them on Rom. v. 10. The perusal deeply affected me, and on
the evening of the same day, I heard a Methodist minister preach upon
John iii. 16. These two impressions commenced a lifelong change in my
experience and character—a change so great, that it led to the
abandonment of my former occupation, and issued in the consecration of my
after-days to the Gospel ministry.
About that time a journey to London on legal business gave me an
opportunity of hearing distinguished preachers, Dr. Adam Clarke and Dr.
Collyer amongst the rest—a privilege which deepened my religious
convictions. I may observe in passing, as regards my visit to London,
that the first sight of it, on a dull morning after a night in the
Norwich mail, I have never forgotten—Bishopsgate-street, the Old Post
Office, and all round the Mansion House—how different the neighbourhood
appeared in 1826 from what it does now! In Waterloo-place, Pall Mall, I
spent more than a month, and I can now see George IV. descending the
steps of Carlton House (where the Duke of York’s column stands), leaning
on a page’s shoulder on the way to his carriage.
On returning to Norwich, my thoughts fixed on the subject which had
previously engaged my attention. A few years ago, when conversing with a
friend in the coffee-room of the House of Commons, a report was mentioned
of a certain Dissenting minister’s intention to enter Parliament, if a
seat could be obtained. My friend remarked emphatically, “That would be
a come-down.” He himself at that time held office, and was on the way to
become a Right Honourable; and when I expressed my surprise to hear him
talk so, he rejoined that he considered the Gospel ministry as the
highest employment on earth when a man really “_was called to it_.” I
felt, sixty years ago, exactly in that way, and only wished to know that
such a call awaited me. I spent some months in coming to a conclusion,
and at length felt convinced that it was my duty and privilege to spend
life in Christian preaching and pastoral work.
Then arose the question, In what ecclesiastical connexion? My relation
to Methodism had arisen from circumstances, but now some study of
ecclesiastical principles was necessary. I began to read what I could on
the subject, acquainting myself with different sides, and being open to
conviction one way or another. I had no predilections, and was ready to
be either a clergyman or a Dissenting minister. I arrived at the
conclusion that Congregationalism, _on the whole_, as far as I understood
it, came nearest to New Testament teaching; but that probably no existing
connexion corresponded exactly with Churches of the first century. What
I thought then has been confirmed by studies in after-years, devoted
largely to the New Testament and the history of Christendom. I have
learned to distinguish between principles lying at the basis of religious
beliefs and existing organisations through which they are worked out.
The former may be true and sound, whilst the latter are defective, and in
some points mistaken.
It is curious that at the time I first made up my mind I knew socially
next to nothing of Congregationalists as a body; my chief associations
having been with Methodists, Quakers, Church-people, and a few Roman
Catholics. I joined the venerable society of Christians assembling in
the Old Meeting House, Norwich; its fathers and founders having been
gathered into Church fellowship, during the seventeenth century, under
the teaching and influence of William Bridge, who resided in Yarmouth;
some of the members being Norwich folk. When I expressed my desire for
the ministry to two Dissenting ministers—the pastor of the Old Meeting
House and his friend who occupied Princes-street pulpit—I met with
different opinions, the former advising me to pursue the study of law,
the latter encouraging my desire for the ministry. In the end these two
friends concurred in advice, the consequence being my introduction to
Highbury College, London.
I had from the beginning cautions against forsaking in after-life the
pulpit for any other post. William Godwin, the famous author of
“Political Justice” and other works, also W. J. Fox, the Anti-Corn-law
lecturer, a distinguished public character at that time, had been
intended for the Dissenting ministry, and, indeed, entered it. By a
remarkable coincidence, both these distinguished men were connected with
the Old Meeting House, where I then was accustomed to worship. Their
abandonment of an early faith and a sacred calling for the sake of
literature and politics, was held up to me as a beacon, to warn me off
dangerous rocks.
Before noticing my entrance into college, I may be allowed to mention
that the congregation which I joined contained some noteworthy people.
Mr. William Youngman was a hard-headed, intelligent, and inquisitive man,
much given to theological argument and incisive criticism of current
opinions. He tried the patience of orthodox religionists, and was the
terror of neophytes. Once, when I dined with him, he commenced talking
about original sin as I was hanging up my hat, and went on in the same
strain to the end of my visit. He found his match at book meetings in
Mr. Thomas Brightwell, F.R.S., an eminent naturalist, whose name is
perpetuated in a memoir of a plant called after him, to be found, if I
correctly remember, in the Transactions of the Royal Society. He was a
diligent student of the Bible, and published notes on the Old Testament,
drawn chiefly from the Scholia of Rosenmuller and Michaelis.
In 1828 I entered Highbury College, afterwards merged in New College, St.
John’s Wood; the professors—or tutors as they were called in my
time—being Dr. Henderson, Dr. Burder, and Dr. Halley. Dr. Henderson had
been engaged in foreign missionary and Bible work, spending much time in
St. Petersburg, Copenhagen, and Stockholm, where he became acquainted
with the languages of Northern Europe. He drilled us in the languages of
the Old Testament, initiated some small study in Syriac, and delivered
elaborate lectures on the evidences and doctrines of Christianity. He
suggested essays to be written during the vacation on subjects demanding
research, and he regularly required the careful preparation of comments
on the original Scriptures, to be delivered _viva voce_ in class. Dr.
Burder was son of George Burder, once well known as the author of
“Village Sermons.” He lectured on mental and moral philosophy, and
employed as text-books the works of Reid, Stewart, and Brown having
himself graduated in a Scotch university. Exceedingly careful,
conscientious, and precise, he opposed all bold speculations, and was
incapable of sympathy with mystical thinkers. He had a clear
apprehension of whatever he taught, and used to lay down as a canon of
composition. “Express yourselves, not so that you _may_, but so that you
_must_ be understood.” Dr. Halley was a good classical scholar,
impulsive, unsystematic, and by no means a severe disciplinarian. He
enthusiastically admired Demosthenes and Cicero, and to hear him give
extempore versions of these orators was an immense treat. We read with
him some Greek tragedians and Latin poets, and he delivered lectures on
history and antiquities. Mathematics came within his department; but,
certainly in my time, he never turned out a wrangler. His influence,
however, was very stimulative, and he inspired when he did not instruct.
Defects in the Nonconformist educational system were apparent to me at
that time, much more so have they become to me ever since; but, to a
considerable extent, they arose from uncontrollable circumstances, so
many students having had few advantages in their boyhood. I have lived
to witness a great improvement in Nonconformist college methods.
It should not be omitted that during the latter part of our term a few of
us attended the mental and moral philosophy class of Professor Hoppus in
the London University College, Gower Street, that institution having been
established by friends of unsectarian education, and numbering on its
councils, and amongst its officers, several Nonconformists.