1875–1879
IN my last chapter I brought together two celebrations—one in honour of
John Bunyan, the other in honour of Richard Baxter. Another celebration
now claims attention, not of an English Nonconformist, but of a
Protestant Reformer, whose fame covers the world—Martin Luther. English
commemorations of his character and work were held late in 1875 and early
in 1876.
Before I mention any particulars respecting the Luther celebration, I
repeat what I have said elsewhere:
“There is no other man of a similar order whose fame touches so many
topographical points, and sweeps over so wide a surface. The local
reminiscences of Shakespeare and Milton, even taken together, are
few, and cluster round a metropolis, a provincial town, and two or
three villages. But how many cities, castles, and houses there are
in Germany scattered far and wide which may be said to have Martin
Luther for their presiding genius! Guide-books call attention to
some spot where he went, some fortress or tenement which gave him
shelter, some church in which he preached, some locality which his
name has made famous; and there are scenes and houses unmentioned in
guide-books, over which lingers the spell of his memory. One comes
across mementoes of Charles V. in divers directions; but even they
are fewer, less interesting, and less honoured than those of the monk
who gave the emperor so much anxiety, and who by his devotion, and
energy accomplished the reformation of the Teutonic Church.
Certainly no king, no kaiser, can vie with him as to the place he
occupies in the thoughts of his own people, and indeed of the whole
Christian world.” {252}
Washington Irving concludes his essay on “Shakespeare and
Stratford-on-Avon,” by remarking it would have cheered “the spirit of the
youthful bard that his name should become the glory of his birthplace,
that his ashes should be guarded as a most precious treasure, and that
its lessening spire, on which his eyes were fixed in tearful
contemplation, should one day become the beacon towering amidst the
gentle landscape to guide the literary pilgrim of every nation to his
tomb.”
It is no depreciation of Shakespeare’s genius to say that above his
aspirations after fame, whatever they might be, rose the aims and desires
of Luther—a man absorbed in zeal for the salvation of souls, and for the
glory of his Saviour; but it would have filled him with wonder, could he
have foreseen the place he was to occupy in the history of the world, and
how the double tower of the Stadt Kirche, in which he preached, would
become a beacon to guide tens of thousands from both hemispheres to the
Augustinian monastery, where he lived, and to the Schloss Kirche, where
he lies buried.
The Luther Commemoration in England was enthusiastic.
Soon after I left Kensington an immense assembly gathered in Exeter Hall,
to take up points in Luther’s character and work. If I remember rightly,
I dwelt on that occasion at some length on his domestic life, often
assailed by his opponents, but held in admiration by Protestants all over
the world. In lectures and addresses, delivered at Norwich,
Peterborough, Bedford, and elsewhere, I dwelt on his manifold excellences
and achievements, at Leipzig, at Worms, in the Wartburg, and his
Wittenberg home. My remarks accorded with those I have now introduced.
After the close of my pastorate in Kensington, Ealing became my home.
The professorships at New College were continued. Sundays were spent in
preaching the Gospel. Literary studies were pursued to a larger extent
than they had been when pastoral duty claimed chief attention.
In 1876 I was grieved by the death of Lady Augusta Stanley, for she
manifested towards me kindness which could not fail to inspire my warmest
gratitude. I never knew any other person who had so much dignity and
sweetness of demeanour, one who, with many-sided sympathy, could make her
numerous guests feel how sincere were her friendly demonstrations. It
often surprised me, as it did others, how she paid marked attention to
all her guests, however numerous they might be. Her tact was admirable.
Nobody could leave the Deanery with the idea of having been neglected.
Her “At Homes” were extraordinarily popular, for every one was sure of
meeting with notabilities of Church and State, literature and science.
Her husband was in full sympathy with her in all these respects.
She was intimately acquainted with foreign celebrities, and her
conversation about them was of much interest. She and her mother, Lady
Elgin, spent some days in Lamartine’s house at Paris, when violent mobs,
during the Revolution, assembled in front of the residence. The
President behaved bravely, but expressed fear lest any insult should be
offered to English ladies under his roof. Mother and daughter, if I
remember right, had been offered refuge by the President when the utmost
peril filled the French capital. Lady Augusta related interesting
anecdotes of Lamartine; and I gathered that he habitually indicated no
small confidence in himself, feeling that he was the greatest man in
France, as no doubt, at the time, he really was.
Her Ladyship and the Dean were well acquainted with M. Guizot, and gave
interesting accounts of that distinguished statesman, and of his habits
and studies after retirement from public life. I happened once, when
talking of Earl Russell, to make the remark, that I had heard of his cold
manner to political acquaintances. Her countenance lighted up, and she
spoke with enthusiasm of what he was in the bosom of his family, and the
circle of intimate friends. Bishop Thirlwall was a great favourite with
her, and she related interesting anecdotes of that distinguished man,
indicating a warm heart, in union with a keen intellect.
Lady Augusta’s visit to St. Petersburg with the Dean, at the marriage of
the Duke of Edinburgh, proved too much for her strength, and at Paris in
the following autumn serious illness set in. From time to time amendment
and relapse excited hope and fear, until all prospect of recovery
vanished. She spoke of friends, sent kind messages, and talked calmly
and with humble confidence of the other world, saying, “Think of me as
near, only in another room. ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions.’”
I had a touching note from the Dean asking me to be a pall-bearer at the
funeral. All chosen for that office indicated causes, classes, and
places in which she felt an interest. Religion, literature, and
philanthropy, the neighbourhood in which she lived, and Scotland—each had
a representative.
The assembly of mourners in the Jerusalem Chamber; the spectacle in the
Abbey; the procession up the nave whilst the Queen occupied a little
gallery not far from the western door; the calm submission of the
bereaved husband, as he sat by the coffin; the solemn entrance into Henry
VII.’s Chapel; the ray of sunlight falling on the coffin as it sank into
the vault; and especially the words, “I heard a voice from Heaven,” sung
by choristers invisible at the moment, as if music came from the Upper
Temple—these incidents can never be forgotten.
It was by royal command that this lady, descended from the royal Bruce,
was buried in a chapel reserved for royal persons; and immediately after
the interment wreaths from the Queen and her children were strewn over
the grave. The three benedictions—the Mosaic, the Pauline, and the
Ecclesiastical—which the deceased loved to hear were pronounced, at the
close of the service, by the Dean from a desk in the nave. She had said
to him, “Think of me as you repeat the holy words.” He did, when she was
gone as when she was living.
The Dean sometimes referred to his visit to St. Petersburg in company
with her ladyship, and spoke of his having before him, as he tied the
nuptial knot on that memorable occasion, no less than four princes, each
of whom was expectant of a crown—the Prince of Wales, the Crown Prince of
Prussia, the Crown Prince of the Netherlands, and the Czarevitch; and he
also mentioned this circumstance—that after the wedding party had passed
in state through a magnificent hall, where no provision for a banquet
could be seen, within an hour and a half they sat down to a feast of
sumptuous splendour, reminding him of Belshazzar’s, not in point of
excess, but in point of regal display. The fact was, the side-tables had
been concealed behind screens and drapery. The middle one had in that
space of time been fixed and adorned.
I may here mention that one day, during a visit to the Deanery, I had
much conversation with Miss Stanley, the Dean’s sister, an agreeable
companion, who freely indulged in some common recollections of dear old
Norwich, and some friends whom we had both known. She told me a great
deal about her good father, the Bishop, dwelling with admiration upon his
exceedingly simple habits, and his determination never to give at the
Palace _grand dinners_, but only such as combined hospitality with
Christian unostentation.
Two or three days previous to Lady Augusta’s funeral, I breakfasted at
Lambeth, when Archbishop Tait, amongst other things, spoke of his desire
for some union with Protestant Dissenters as far as it was possible; and
this led to proceedings which, as they have not been reported in any
fulness, may be recorded here.
It was a delicate question who should first move in the matter. The
Archbishop wished to invite brethren to Lambeth, but what reason was to
be assigned for taking such a step? At length it was arranged that some
communication should be made to him, indicative of a disposition on the
part of Nonconformists to confer with Episcopalian brethren. On such a
ground the Archbishop considered he might bring together bishops, ready
to join in a conference. I undertook to prepare a letter and get it
signed, so that Dr. Tait might feel he had sure footing for what might
follow. It was based on a recognition of pleasure felt by
Nonconformists, in consequence of passages in his recent charges touching
religious union. The letter went on to express willingness to meet
brethren for consultation respecting co-operation in religious service so
far as it might be possible and wise. It was signed by well-known
ministers, and was acknowledged by the Archbishop under the term of
“memorial,” an expression which, if I remember rightly, had not been
employed by us.
Four Nonconformist ministers accordingly went down to Lambeth to converse
on the subject. Previous to this interview, it was my conviction that to
discuss the subject of _union_ by itself was by no means desirable, as it
might raise questions which would defeat the end in view. In harmony
with this, the following opinion was expressed by a friendly
prelate:—“Such a neutral subject as the progress of irreligious thought,
would do well as a basis for a friendly meeting.”
In a note received from the Archbishop before we met, he said, “I beg
leave to assure you that all the bishops whom I have consulted agree in
the extreme importance of this movement, and in an earnest desire that by
proper preliminary arrangements your proposal for a conference may be
brought to a satisfactory result.” The proposal for a conference, I
think, did not _originate_ with me, though I quite approved of it, and
was glad the Archbishop had kindly arranged for its being held.
I subjoin the following record, received from Lambeth, respecting a
conference which the ministers named held with the Archbishop
beforehand:—
“May 24th, 1876: The Archbishop of Canterbury saw the Rev. Dr.
Stoughton, the Rev. Dr. Angus, the Rev. Newman Hall, and the Rev. Dr.
Aveling.
“The gentlemen present having heard from the Archbishop what had
passed with the bishops who met at the Ecclesiastical Commission, it
was the opinion of those present that there was ample room for united
efforts to stem growing infidelity and ungodliness.
“1. Therefore that a united conference as to the best means of
attempting to spread the knowledge of the answers to materialistic
and atheistic sophistries might be attended with very beneficial
results.
“2. That such a conference might with great advantage consider the
lamentable ignorance and indifference as to religion which prevails
amongst masses of the community, and the best modes of meeting these
evils.
“3. That such a conference might also with advantage consider what
efforts are needed to rouse the classes above the artisan class to a
greater appreciation of the realities of religion.
“4. That it would be desirable that at such a conference those
present should come prepared to state their experience as to the
difficulties to be met, and the proposed remedies. It was agreed
that a day after the first week in July would be suitable for such a
conference.
“The result of this was reported by the Archbishop to an informal
meeting of certain bishops at the Room of the House of Lords:
present, the Archbishop of York, the Bishops of London, Winchester,
St. Asaph, Llandaff, Gloucester and Bristol, and Carlisle; and
Monday, July 4th, at twelve noon, was fixed for our gathering.”
We assembled accordingly on July 4th, and there were present besides the
Primate, the Bishops of London, Winchester, Peterborough, Gloucester,
Bath and Wells, Drs. Allon, Raleigh, Punshon, Rigg, Aveling, Angus,
Cumming, Robertson of Edinburgh (an old schoolmate of Dr. Tait); the
Revs. J. C. Harrison, Newman Hall, Josiah Viney, and several others whom
I cannot call to mind as, unfortunately, I have not kept a list.
The Archbishop presided, read the Scriptures, and offered prayer. He
opened the proceedings by an appropriate address, and then requested me
to give some account of the steps which had led to our meeting together.
I could not help referring to some remarkable gatherings in the Jerusalem
Chamber, March 1640–1, convened by Dr. Williams, at that time Bishop of
Lincoln, and also Dean of Westminster, when several other dignitaries met
certain Presbyterian divines. “This,” I remarked, “was done by order of
the House of Lords, with a view to settling points of difference between
ecclesiastical parties of that day. A scheme of comprehension was
contemplated. It came to nothing, though the intercourse seems to have
been pleasant, and they were hospitably entertained by the convener.”
“This was the last course of all public Episcopal treatments,” said the
witty Thomas Fuller, who added: “The guests may now soon put up their
knives, seeing, soon after, the voider was called for, which took away
all bishops’ lands.” I emphasised the fact that we had assembled for a
very different purpose, not to discuss any plan of comprehension, but to
see how parties, remaining ecclesiastically as we were, could,
notwithstanding, _unite_ in defence of our common faith against those who
opposed it.
“We have a common cause,” it was added; “and let us aim at extending the
influence of our common Christianity—this would bring us into spiritual
and practical fellowship, the most enduring of all bonds.” The Bishop of
Bath and Wells followed and spoke on the specific point—how we should
meet doubts and difficulties in reference to religion. The Bishop of
Peterborough discussed the subject generally, with great eloquence and
force. The Bishops of London and Winchester made practical suggestions
as to guarding Christians against scepticism, and rousing people at large
from indifference and neglect. Drs. Rigg, Angus, and others, combatted
infidel objections and enforced attention to the subject before us. A
spirit of harmony pervaded the meeting.
We broke up the morning conference at two o’clock, and then lunched
together; reassembling at three o’clock, when the Bishop of Gloucester,
Dr. Punshon, and several besides, resumed the conversation. No
representatives of the press were present, and no report, that I am aware
of, was taken and preserved. We wished to prevent the controversial
treatment of what took place. Two of those who were there, together with
myself, received and complied with a request to prepare some brief
statement for _The Times_, on the character and purpose of our meeting.
Of course, the whole matter was criticised afterwards, chiefly however in
private. I do not remember that it was taken up controversially in
religious periodicals. To correct some misapprehensions—expressed in a
Dissenting newspaper—I, at the request of an esteemed brother, wrote a
short letter of explanation.
When we separated, gratification was expressed by those who were present.
Some Nonconformists did not enter into the movement; others did, and that
most heartily. From several Episcopalian friends we received assurances
of approval and sympathy. It issued in no united action; no fresh
organisation had, as far as I know, ever been intended. The purpose
designed was accomplished by interchanging thought, collecting
information, and encouraging one another in ministerial work.
For Archbishop Tait I had great respect and affection. He was singularly
kind and conversable, without affecting any official superiority. Under
his grave countenance, and habitually serious demeanour, as one who lived
ever “in his Great Taskmaster’s eye,” there were veins of cheerfulness
and humour in his familiar intercourse—I felt deeply, his gentle
sympathy, expressed in a letter of condolence, on my dear wife’s death;
and the last time we talked together, being interrupted by another
person, he broke off in the opening of what seemed an amusing tale. He
appreciated the relative position of Church and Dissent, better than any
other dignitary I have met with. He would say that Nonconformists had
their traditions, organisations, endowments, and influence, which gave
them a status they were not likely to surrender by bringing over what
belonged to them, into an Episcopalian organisation. A fraternal _modus
vivendi_, he regarded as the object to be aimed at, not an absorption of
Dissenting bodies into the Establishment. He, no doubt, would have
preferred to see _One Great Church_ in England, under a moderate
Episcopacy; but he seemed to cherish little hope of any such object being
accomplished.
On a former page allusion was made to Mr. Bagster, of Polyglot fame. In
the year (1877) his venerable wife, at the age of 100 _within a few
hours_, died at Old Windsor; and her accumulated years attracted the
notice of Her Majesty, who honoured her with a visit just before her
decease. I called at the cottage in which she expired, after the royal
visitor had been there, and there heard the particulars of the interview.
Her Majesty I was informed, brought with her the Princess Beatrice; and,
on their entrance into the bedroom, where the old lady was lying, she at
once expressed her gratitude for the signal favour bestowed by her
Sovereign, saying that “she was looking forward to her own speedy
dismissal to the immediate presence of the Saviour, where she hoped
hereafter to meet Her Majesty.” Pleasant conversation followed, in which
Mrs. B., at the Queen’s request, related her memories of George III.,
Queen Charlotte, and the Royal Family, as they used to walk on the Castle
terrace, in the presence of a large number of loyal spectators. The
Queen manifested interest in particulars respecting the good old lady,
related by her daughter; and in consequence of the report she gave on her
return home, Prince Leopold, as I was told soon afterwards, paid a visit
to Old Windsor, and wished for a rehearsal of what had been communicated
by his Royal Mother. Repeated gracious inquiries from the Castle
followed. At the funeral service a note was put into my hands, written
by the Duchess of Roxburgh to Miss Bagster, tenderly touching on that
lady’s sorrow, for her late bereavement; and concluding with the words:
“The Queen begs you to convey to all the members of your venerable
mother’s family, the assurance of Her Majesty’s condolence.” This note
was read to the mourners.
In 1877 I made two pilgrimages which left memorable impressions. All my
life I have been an enthusiastic shrine-seeker, loving to trace out spots
sanctified by footsteps of heroic and holy men. I heartily adopt the
words of Dr. Martineau, “No material interests, no common welfare, can so
bind a community together, and make it strong of heart, as a history of
rights maintained and virtues uncorrupted and freedom won; and one legend
of conscience is worth more to a country than hidden gold and fertile
plains.”
At different periods I have visited the birthplaces of Shakespeare and of
Raleigh, of Cromwell and of Wesley; the homes of Knox, Hampden, Milton,
Baxter, and Howard; the haunts of Johnson, Goldsmith, Watts, and Cowper;
the graves of Bunyan, Burns, Scott, and Chalmers have all had attractions
for me.
The pilgrimages I made in 1877 were the following:—
The first to the Vosges district in France, searching for Ban de la
Roche, the scene of Oberlin’s labours, and the resting place of his
remains. {268} From Strassburg my daughter and I went to Mutzig,
situated amidst a theatre of red sandstone hills mantled with woods and
vineyards. Then from Mutzig we proceeded to Fouday, through valley after
valley, if not exactly picturesque, yet really pictorial, and finally
approached the parish of the model pastor. In the heart of the village
of Ban de la Roche, are the church hallowed by his preaching, and the
grave where he sleeps. Three broad slabs lie on the green turf, side by
side, the middle one inscribed with the words, “Il fut 60 ans père de ce
canton.—‘La Mémoire du juste sera en benediction.’” An iron cross bears
the name “Papa Oberlin.” We were surprised to find the spot, though
highly situated, so rich in beauty as summer waned; an afternoon sun
warming the crisp air, and lighting up objects with varied tints. At
Walderbach, a Swiss-like village, full of cottages and fruit trees, we
found the parsonage house in which the good man lived and died. We were
welcomed by the present clergyman’s wife, whom we had met before, without
knowing her. The good lady took us over the rooms associated with her
husband’s predecessor. There was the study where he worked, and the
bedroom in which he slept. Some of his furniture is preserved, with a
collection of toys he made for children, and a large jar full of still
fragrant rose leaves, a few of which were gratefully accepted as a
memento of the visit.
The other pilgrimage was in England to Broad Oak, Shropshire, where
Philip Henry resided and where his son Matthew was born. It stands where
the Wrexham Road is intersected by a lane leading to Whitwell Church. It
is a small farmhouse, part of a larger one, with heavy beams, and a broad
chimney corner, like what one sees in Anne Hathaway’s cottage near
Stratford-on-Avon. When in its primitive state, it must have been
spacious, for, says the famous Puritan, “I have room for twelve friends
in my beds, a hundred in my barn, and a thousand in my heart.” Here he
resembled “Abraham sitting at his tent door, in quest of opportunities to
do good. If he met with any poor near his house, and gave them alms in
money, he would, besides, bid them go to his door for relief. He was
very tender and compassionate towards poor strangers, and travellers,
though his candour and charity were often imposed upon by cheats and
pretenders.”
The mention of Broad Oak occurs repeatedly in the Life of the father,
written by his affectionate son. The latter tells of his father’s
removal to Broad Oak, and the providences concerning him there, of “the
rebukes he lay under at Broad Oak,” and of the last nine years of his
life, in “liberty and enlargement at Broad Oak.” At a time when
ministerial engagements were by no means so numerous and diversified as
they are at present; when habits of home study, quiet visitation of the
flock, and catechising the children, rather than preaching on public
occasions, attending large meetings, and travelling to and fro along the
length and breadth of the land, distinguished both town and country
clergymen; when those who were connected with the Established Church, and
had no restraints put upon their activity, spent what would be now
considered very retired and monotonous lives; what must have been the
secluded and stationary position of an ejected minister between the
Restoration and the Revolution! No wonder, then, that almost every
incident and effort belonging to Philip Henry’s career belonged to the
farm at Broad Oak, where he lived and died, and wrote and suffered, and
walked and taught, bringing up his children, and receiving his friends,
and paying visits to his neighbours, under the shadow of the umbrageous
trees which gave a name to his pleasant homestead.
I drove over to the house, or rather that part of it which still remains,
a part of the kitchen, as I suppose, in which the good man used to
preach. The people of the house showed me some relics—the pulpit
cushion, and, I think, the pulpit itself, or some portion of it; also
some buttons which belonged to Philip Henry’s coat.
At Whitwell is a chapel containing Philip Henry’s monument, which once
stood in the parish edifice of Whitchurch.
At the end of the Whitwell epitaph are the words, “In dormitorium hic
juxta positum demisit June 24, Anno Dom. MDCXCVI, Ætatis LXV.” Was it in
imitation of this, that the words were introduced in Matthew Henry’s
monument in Holy Trinity Church, Chester, “Confectum corpus huic
dormitorio commisit 22 die Junii, 1714, Anno ætat 52”?
Dr. Howson, Dean of Chester, who was staying with me at Crewe Hall when
this visit was arranged, intended to be my companion, for he was a great
admirer of the Henrys; but illness prevented him.
In 1877 I was invited by Dr. Stanley to deliver a missionary lecture in
Westminster Abbey, one of a series he had arranged, in which some friends
of his, not clergymen in the Establishment, took part.
In 1877 I gave a lecture in the room of the Society of Arts on the
prospects and perils of modern civilisation. One of the audience was a
native gentleman attached to the Chinese Embassy—a very intelligent
person, speaking English well, and showing by his conversation how
clearly he grasped points of the address he had just heard. It was a
singular circumstance that a representative of the largest empire of the
world—which not long ago counted all other nations as barbarous—should
listen to a barbarian as he represented the good and _evil_ of European
civilisation.
Just before Christmas (1877) two or three days were spent at the Deanery
of Westminster, and on the Sunday afternoon Dr. Stanley walked with me on
the terrace of the Parliamentary Houses, where we had some interesting
talk. He pointed to the palatial edifice at our back as we looked across
the river, and said, “This is the palace of the nation”; turning
attention to St. Thomas’ Hospital, he remarked, “That is the palace of
the poor”; and next, looking towards Lambeth, he added, “There is the
palace of the Church.” We discussed the state and prospects of the
Establishment, and he, as a staunch advocate for its continuance,
propounded schemes of reform, which, looking at the state of parties,
seemed to me quite impracticable. He was filled with an idea of
comprehension, if not within wide Episcopalian limits, then by a State
union of different denominations—for example, thus: He would have been
glad to see a Presbyterian Moderator, a Congregational Chairman, and a
Wesleyan President sitting in the House of Lords on a bench with the
bishops. He further thought that, as Charles II. was willing to have
Nonconformist chaplains, after the Restoration, so an English sovereign
might now, without any impropriety, do the same; and if the Uniformity
Act were modified so as to allow a Dissenting minister to enter a pulpit
of the Establishment, there would be no legal bar in the way. My friend
had the widest sympathies possible, and union, with him, was a passion.
In some respects I have a feeling like the Dean’s, but I hold theological
and ecclesiastical principles such as he did not adopt. One fundamental
difference between us was that he overlooked the exercise of Church
_discipline_, to which I attach great importance. The study of State
organisations has convinced me that the “union of Church and State”
creates insuperable barriers in the way of ecclesiastical discipline. If
the Church be linked to the State, so that a subject of the State becomes
thereby legally entitled to membership and communion,—that forms a strong
bar to a faithful correction of moral misconduct and fundamental
disbeliefs. It was a great difficulty under the Commonwealth. The
devoted and holy Thomas Wilson, Bishop of Sodor and Man, found it so in
carrying on his diocese. He said in his famous “Ecclesiastical
Constitutions” that his desire was “We may not stand charged with the
scandals which wicked men bring upon religion, when they are admitted to,
and reputed members of, Christ’s Church; and that we may, by all laudable
means, promote the conversion of sinners, and oblige men to submit to the
discipline of the Gospel.” But for myself, let me say I have not found
any difficulty in the maintenance of discipline in Congregational
Churches. Whatever might be the basis of Dr. Stanley’s far-reaching
comprehension, it appears to me there might be a much broader range of
religious sympathy and co-operation between distinct religious bodies
connected with the maintenance of well-accentuated beliefs, and the
exercise of ecclesiastical discipline.
In the early part of the following year I visited Edinburgh to lecture
for the Philosophical Society of that city. My subject was “The Great
Rebellion”; and I made a double attempt, first, to vindicate the
Parliament policy as against the despotic unconstitutionalism of the
infatuated monarch; and secondly, to criticise the proceedings of some
eminent men on the Puritan and popular side. The society invited me to
lecture again, when different historical ground was taken, and a sketch
was presented of English and Scotch life in the days of Queen Anne.
My old friend, and large-hearted host, the Rev. George D. Cullen,
favoured me with the company at dinner, of Dr. Goold, Moderator of the
Free Church; Dr. Hanna, son-in-law to Dr. Chalmers; Dr. Alexander, and
others—and we had earnest talk about topics of the day. Scotch and
English elements of thought, blended so as to bring diversities into
view, without any portion of the acrimony common to polemical debate.
True blue Presbyterianism rose in contrast with milder colours of
Ecclesiasticism. There was no want of thrust or repartee, but we kept
the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. Edinburgh society is of
the choicest kind. Some of the best talkers may be found on the other
side the border; and memories of celebrities in Auld Reekie, are amongst
the most pleasant of my life. On the occasion just noticed, my friend
Mr. Cullen took me over to St. Andrews; and there Principal Tulloch did
the honours of ciceroneship to perfection. In the evening we dined at
the house of Professor Swann, where further social enjoyments of a high
university order were found to be in store.
During this visit to Scotland a curious fact was related to me by the
librarian of the University. Drummond of Hawthornden bequeathed books to
the library of that institution, and in the catalogue appeared an item of
“MSS. respecting Mary Queen of Scots.”
These MSS. were long missing, and inquiries about them were made in vain.
Not very long before my visit, the librarian received a communication
from some one who said he had, in his possession, papers belonging to the
University; and on receiving a reply to his letter, he forwarded them.
They turned out to be the missing treasure. How came this about? As
well as I can remember it appeared that a librarian of the last century
put one day into his coat pocket these very MSS., and took them home for
examination. He suddenly died. His clothes were sent to a relative, and
amongst them, the coat containing the documents now mentioned. For a
century afterwards they remained forgotten, and then came to light. The
possessor, finding they belonged to Edinburgh University, wrote to the
librarian as stated above, and restored them to their proper place. The
recovered property was shown to me. It included original papers
published some time ago, and others not previously known; but, if I may
venture to say so, after a brief inspection, they did not promise to be
of so much service as was hoped, in throwing fresh light on the mysteries
of poor Mary’s career.
The seventh General Conference of the Evangelical Alliance was held in
Basle, September 1st 1879.
There was a large gathering of delegates from Germany, France, Austria,
Italy, Spain, Holland, America and England. The president was M. C.
Sarasin, Councillor of State, who is said to have descended from a
Moorish ancestor settled in the canton. He showed himself to be
acquainted with English literature.
“Let me remind our English friends,” he said, “of the words their great
poet puts in the mouth of Richard II.:
‘Look not to the ground
Ye favourites of a king! Are we not high?
High be our thoughts.’
“Let us cherish high thoughts, my friends! Are we not the servants of a
King, of the King of kings, and Lord of lords? And is it not His work we
are carrying on?
‘Die sach’ ist dein, Herr Jesu Christ,
Die sach’ an der wir stehen.’
(The cause is Thine, Lord Jesus Christ,
The cause for which we stand.)
“Thus let our work be done, our testimony be given, our efforts be
united, in the same joyful steadfast spirit, with the same buoyancy, with
which the Apostle, with chained hands, appealed to his flock at Philippi,
‘Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, rejoice.’”
These were animating words, and awakened an enthusiastic response, when
uttered in the old church of St. Martin, where Æcolampadius first
preached the doctrines of the Reformation.
I give the following _resumé_ of some remarks I made at the Basle
Alliance meeting.
_The Times_ reported:
“Dr. Stoughton contrasted the gathering of peoples in that assembly,
representative of all nations, with a meeting held in Basle four hundred
and fifty years ago. Christendom was then in a very divided state, for
the spirit of religious inquiry was breaking out, and the great
moot-point was, in all theological controversy, ‘Where lies the ultimate
authority for religious beliefs—in Popes, in Councils, or in the Word of
God?’ They met that day in times of a somewhat differentcharacter, but
of still deeper and wider agitation, for the question now was, not only
whether the Church or the Bible was the final test of truth, but also
whether reason or revelation should be our guide as to the highest of all
subjects which could affect the present and future interests of the human
family. But how vast the difference between that famous Council at Basle
and the Evangelical Alliance Conference of this day! Under what
different aspects was union regarded by the two assemblies! The one
aimed at uniformity, at a precise and definitely-expressed agreement of
opinion, in relation to theological and ecclesiastical points, which
might be enforced on all Christendom by pains and penalties,—even death,
to a recreant brother. The other seeks to promote unity, holding, after
the experience of ages, that uniformity was impossible, and that true
unity could not only be attained, but was compatible with a hearty,
loving, sympathetic Christian fellowship throughout the family of the
redeemed. He then contrasted the appearance of the two meetings, traced
out the history of the followers of John Huss, and, in a long and
exceedingly able and interesting historical review of the history of the
Reformation, showed that Protestant England was not only indebted to
Basle for men but for principles; and, identifying the two with the work
of Calvin at Geneva and John Knox in Scotland, he contended that the
outcome of those early struggles was not only religious freedom in
Europe, but, mainly through the Puritans of England, the religious life
and progress of America. Their simple reliance now, as then, was the
Gospel of Christ, and freedom to preach and practise its heaven-born
truths.”
I have a great delight in all genuine Christian union, but my conception
of it is by no means confined to the cultivation of love and sympathy
with those, who in all, or in most, respects concur with me. There is an
admirable passage in Julius Hare’s preface to the third volume of
Arnold’s “Rome.” “We are so bound and shackled, by all manner of
prejudices, national, party, ecclesiastical, individual, that we can
hardly move a limb freely; and we are so fenced and penned in, that few
can look over their neighbour’s land, or up to any piece of sky, except
to _that which is just over their heads_.” I took an active part in the
early history of the Evangelical Alliance, and I rejoice in those points
of agreement which are expressed in its Evangelical faith; but I have
never liked its exclusion of some good people from its fellowship, on the
ground of differences in relation to ecclesiastical ordinances. I would
look kindly over “my neighbour’s land,” and towards “pieces of sky” which
are not “just over my head.”
I can scarcely bring myself to speak of the sorrow which befell me in
November 1879. My beloved wife then died, and was interred in Hanwell
Cemetery, which pertains to the parish of Kensington. The beautiful
words in Proverbs are inscribed on her gravestone: “Her children arise
up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.” Some
time ago I read in the Life of my American friend, Dr. Hodge, the
following passage respecting the deceased companion of _his_ life. I can
truly appropriate it to my departed loved one. “A humble worshipper of
Christ, she lived in love and died in faith. Trustful woman, delightful
companion, ardent friend, devoted wife, self-sacrificing mother, we lay
you gently here, our best beloved, to gather strength and beauty for the
coming of the Lord.”
My dearest friend Joshua Harrison, who was to her as a brother, preached
a funeral sermon, in which he said, “The strength of her life was her
faith in the Son of God. Her path, though the sun shone brightly upon
it, was often a thorny one. Her own health was liable to frequent
interruptions, and her heart was pierced again and again by the loss of
children, whom she loved better than herself. Oh, the unmurmuring
resignation with which seven several times, she saw her dear ones carried
to the grave! Oh, the courage with which she bore the shock! She never
wavered in the conviction, ‘He loved me and gave Himself for me,’ but
felt that these sad sorrows must be only the obscurer manifestations of
His love. And hence she could write, ‘Here we shall never be exempt from
trial and sorrow, but when we reach that changeless home above, there
will be no need of sanctifying us there. All that is needful to make us
meet for that holy place must be done here; and oh, how much pruning and
purging, how much of grace and strength we need to help us to walk more
closely with Him.’
“She has reached that changeless abode now, and has left all sorrow
behind. Long, long had she been waiting, but the message came so
suddenly at last, that, without knowing she was dying, she found herself
at home. The words discovered in her desk, which by copying she had made
her own, received sweet and exact fulfilment:
‘The way is long, my Father, and my soul
Longs for the rest and quiet of the goal;
While yet I journey through this weary land,
Keep me from wandering; Father, take my hand,
Quickly and straight,
Lead to Heaven’s gate
Thy child.
‘The way is long, my child, but it shall be
Not one step longer than is best for thee,
And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt stand
Close by the gate, how I did take thy hand,
And quick and straight,
Lead to Heaven’s gate
My child.’”