CHAPTER II.
He Mends Some Of His Ways.
About the middle of April he came to London for three weeks' holidays. He calls it "a smoky odious place," and says that entering it makes him "miserable." He is soon immersed in the customs of his society in the metropolis, and his feeling of uneasiness wears off. His little experience in parish work brings a great many things to his knowledge, of which he had not the slightest idea before. He is at a great loss, also, how to meet the difficulties he encounters, and doubts whether his proceedings in what he considered his duty have been quite right. Dr. Blomfield had always been a kind of spiritual director to Mr. Spencer: to him he goes now for a thorough investigation of his principles and even doctrines. Extempore praying was a thing Dr. Blomfield never liked, and its adoption by Mr. Spencer shows a leaning to Evangelical if not Methodistic spirituality. Whether it was this point, or another of the many things upon which clergymen of the Establishment agree to differ, that they discussed, we cannot say; but the result was far from consoling to either. He says: "I want some setting to rights in point of orthodoxy I find. I only hope that my decision in regard to my conduct may not be influenced by ambition or worldliness on the one hand, nor by spiritual pride on the other." Here may be seen that real sincerity and disinterestedness which guided his every step through life. If we analyze the sentence, it looks as if the arguments of his adviser are taken in part from the sources which Mr. Spencer hopes will not influence his decision; and this conclusion is borne out by a letter which will be given further on, when his confidence in the Church of England became thoroughly shaken. It must not be supposed from this that Dr. Blomfield was guided himself by these motives, though hints to that effect were often rife in his lifetime; but it is natural enough that the doctor should propose family considerations among his other arguments, especially if he thought those not quite persuasive.
Mr. Spencer goes to the theatre, and it was the last time in his life. His account of how that change was wrought in him, gives us one of those peculiar instances in which ridicule proved to be more powerful than logic or decorum. He attended Drury Lane Theatre with one or two friends, and in some part of the performance a parson was fearfully caricatured, and drew bursts of laughter and applause from the audience. This touched him sorely; eyes were pointed towards him; his friends laughed the more, in proportion to the efforts considerations for him made them use, in suppressing their feelings. He went forth from the theatre thoroughly vexed, and vowed he would never go to a theatre again. The Journal does not give a solitary instance in which this resolve was deviated from afterwards. This incident had also the effect of making him consider the propriety of several other unclerical pursuits, which he followed, as much since his ordination as he did before. It was not, however, till towards the end of this year that he began to retrench them, and a little of the same power of ridicule came to his assistance then also.
His great concern was the union of all the sects in his parish. He knew very well that our Lord gave but one system of Christianity, and that yea and no upon any important point could not proceed from His lips or be parts of His doctrine. He thought conciliatory measures the best to effect his purpose, and he even adopted some of the ways of Dissenters in order to be all to all towards them. On this he seems to have been lectured by Dr. Blomfield with some profit, for, on his return home, he says: "Whit-Sunday. I gave a strong sermon against the Dissenters, founded on Whit-Sunday," In a few days he pays "an unsatisfactory visit" to one family, and says: "They are the hardest schismatics I've got; children unbaptized, &c." This seems High Church language, and his feeling of opposition to Evangelicals, which finds expression in a few places, now makes one suppose he was "a proper High Church man." He labours hard for several weeks to prepare children for confirmation. He has 80 of them ready, and was so pleased with the whole affair, that he moved the printing of the bishop's charge, as he proposed his lordship's health in a speech after the dinner. The Sunday after he goes round to every house, and gives final admonitions to those on whom the bishop imposed hands a few days before.
To help him in his incipient dislike of Methodism he has a very curious conversation with a great "professor" of that persuasion. This was an old woman whom he was in the habit of visiting whenever he made his rounds where she lived. On his entrance, they both knelt down and prayed alternately for some time, each, out loud and extempore, for the edification of the other. When this rubric was carried out, they talked at full length and breadth on the unconverted and the elect, with sundries other kindred subjects, and this he used to style "comfortable conversation." Sometimes the tone of conversation would vary, and once it ran upon the line of self-accusation. The old lady very humbly accused herself of a great many faults in general, and signified to Mr. Spencer that she would be very much obliged to any one who would point out her particular faults, and help her in correcting them. Emboldened by this, he ventured, after a long preamble, to suggest that there was one thing he would like to see corrected in her, as it seemed to be the only speck on the lustre of her godliness. "What is that?" asked she, rather curiously and impatiently. "Well, it is that you are rather fond of contradicting people." "No, I am not," was the reply. "You have just contradicted me now." "No, I haven't." "Well, you have repeated the same fault." "I've done no such thing," was the petulant rejoinder. Of course, he saw it was useless to proceed further, and his visits became fewer for some time. This anecdote he used to relate with peculiar tact and a most graphic imitation of the old lady's manner.
Before giving his own account of the rise and fall of his High Church notions, it may be well to mention another incident that occurred about this time, towards the end of 1823. He determines to give up shooting and dancing. He told an anecdote about how the first of these sports fell into disfavour with him. There was a shooting party in Althorp on a certain day, and George was in the very thick of it. So anxious was he to distinguish himself in bringing down game, that he would run to take position for a shot with his double-barrel gun loaded, and a cartridge stuck in either corner of his mouth, ready for action, so as not to lose a minute in charging. He did great execution that day, and bagged probably more braces than any other. In the evening one of the company showed great anxiety to get possession of something, and eventually succeeded; whereupon, one present said, with a waggish look at George, "You've made a parson's shot at it." This struck him very forcibly, and suggested the resolution, which he finally came to and kept, of giving up shooting. There is no particular anecdote about his abstinence from dancing, we only know that at this time he refuses to go to a ball, makes his pastoral visits instead, and declares that he feels far more comfortable after this than when he has been "pleasuring."
The following is taken from a letter published by Father Ignatius in the Catholic Standard in December, 1853:—
... "When I was ordained deacon in the Church of England at Christmas, 1822, I had, I may say, all my religious ideas and principles to form. I do not so well know how far this is a common case now. I have reason to think it was a very common one then. My mind was possessed with a decided intention of doing good, and I was delighted with the calling and life of a clergyman; but my ideas were very vague indeed as to what a clergyman was meant for or had to do. Very naturally, however, on becoming acquainted with my parishioners, among whom the Wesleyan Methodists, the Baptists, and the Independents had been gaining ground for some time previously, I concluded that I had to oppose their progress, and to draw back those who had joined them. This disposition in me was highly gratifying to some of the elder clergy in my neighbourhood, who came to make acquaintance with me as a new neighbour, especially to one old man, an ardent lover of High Church principles, who, to confirm me in them, gave me a book to read entitled 'Daubeny's Guide to the Church,' in which the divine authority of the Church, the importance of Apostolical succession, of episcopal government, the evil and sin of schism, and other ecclesiastical principles, were most lucidly and learnedly demonstrated. So I thought then; and, as far as my recollection goes, I should say now that I thought rightly. I was exceedingly captivated by these principles, which were to me quite new, and I found myself now ready to carry on my arguments with dissenters as a warrior armed; whereas in the beginning I had nothing but zeal in my cause to help me. I did not gain upon them; but this new light was so bright in my own mind, that I had no doubt of prevailing in time. But there was one weak point in the system I was defending which I had overlooked. It was after a time pointed out to me, and my fabric of High Churchism fell flat at once, like a child's castle of cards.
"I was at this time living at Althorp, my father's principal residence in the country, serving as a curate to the parish to which it was attached, though the park itself is extra-parochial. Among the visitors who resorted there, was one of the most distinguished scholars of the day, to whom, as to many more of the Anglican Church, I owe a debt of gratitude for the interest which he took in me, and to the help I actually received from him in the course of inquiry, which has happily terminated in the haven of the true Church. I should like to make a grateful and honourable mention of his name, but as this has been found fault with, I forbear. I was one day explaining to him with earnestness the line of argument which I was pursuing with dissenters, and my hopes from it; I suppose I expected encouragement, such as I had received from many others. But he simply and candidly said, 'These would be very convenient doctrines, if we could make use of them, but they are available only for Roman Catholics; they will not serve us.' I saw in a moment the truth of his remark, and his character and position gave it additional weight. I did not answer him; but as a soldier who has received what he feels to be a mortal wound, will suddenly stand still, and then quietly retire out of the mêlée, and seek a quiet spot to die in, so I went away with my High Churchism mortally wounded in the very prime of its vigour and youth, to die for ever to the character of an Anglican High Churchman. Why did not this open my eyes, you will say, to the truth of Catholicity? I answer, simply because my early prejudices were too strong. The unanswerable remark of my friend was like a reductio ad absurdum of all High Church ideas. If they were true, the Catholic would be so: which is absurd, as I remember Euclid would say. 'Therefore,' &c. The grand support of the High Church system, church authority, having been thus overthrown, it was an easy though gradual work to get out of my mind all its minor details and accompaniments, one after another; such as regard for holy places, for holy days, for consecrated persons, for ecclesiastical writers; finally, almost all definite dogmatic notions. It would seem that all was slipping away, when, coming to the conviction of the truth of Catholicity some years after, it was with extraordinary delight I found myself picking up again the shattered dispersed pieces of the beautiful fabric, and placing them now in better order on the right foundation, solid and firm, no longer exposed to such a catastrophe as had upset my card-castle of Anglican churchmanship. This little passage in my ancient religious history is so sweetly interesting to me in the remembrance, that I have looked into an old diary which I used to keep at the time, to make out the dates, and I find by this that the duration of my High Church ideas was shorter than I should have imagined; but it was a period crowded with new, bright ideas, and naturally seems longer than it is. I will, to please myself, perhaps, more than my readers, give the dates. I note that, Dec. 24, 1823, the great scholar of whom I have spoken came to Althorp; Jan. 23, 1824, he goes away. This was his last visit, for he died the summer following, as I find it was on the 28th of June, 1824, that, in passing by Oxford with my eldest brother, we called at the Hall of which he was superior, to inquire how he was. He was sick—then on his death-bed." [Footnote 6]
[Footnote 6: The name of the gentleman referred to above was Dr. Elmesly.]
CHAPTER III.
He Receives Further Orders.
The complete levelling of his church principles left him at a loss which way to turn. The divided state of his parish, and the number of sects, seemed to be perpetually harassing his mind. He set about converting them by other ways than exhibiting his "card-castle;" he tried to open the doors of the Establishment as wide as he could, so as to admit if possible all classes of religionists to her communion. Of a conversation upon this point with Lord Lyttelton, he says, "In the evening I had a walk with Lyttelton, and was filled with scruples about the Athanasian Creed by him unintentionally. I had a great war with my conscience in the evening, at bed-time." These scruples slept for some time on account of a soporific which Dr. Blomfield administered to him; but they arose again, and were not settled till he became a Catholic. Various discussions procure him "lights about the Methodist practice," and "distressing thoughts;" so he gives up that field of working now for another.
This other field was showing good example of the different works of mercy, and he even tries Catholic ascetism. He takes such an interest in the poor of his parish that he goes to the hospitals, attends dissecting-rooms, and assists at a dispensary until he learns enough about medicine to enable him to make prescriptions for the sick poor. He spends evenings in making pills, and one day when a poor man broke his thigh, Mr. Spencer went and set it for him, and it was so well done that they did not change it when he was brought to the infirmary. The exertion this cost him nearly made him faint.
The next thing he notes is, "I read a most persuasive sermon of Beveridge's about fasting; I examined the question in other books, and by God's grace I am resolved no longer to disregard that duty." He applied for advice about fasting, as was his invariable practice when he took up any idea out of the ordinary line. He went to a neighbouring clergyman, whom he considered well versed in the matter, and, though this gentleman discourages the practice, Mr. Spencer adopts it notwithstanding, since his arguments are too weak. These are the principal events out of his ordinary work, except his giving up card-playing, from the beginning of the year 1824 until the 12th of June, when we find him again in Peterborough, on the eve of receiving priest's orders.
The demolition of his High Church notions, as well as the tone of mind in which he received the former orders, might lead one to anticipate that he received these second orders somewhat after the fashion of a new step in the army. But it was quite the contrary. His notions of orders were higher; he looked upon this step as an important one, and he tells us, some days before, "I walked to-day in The Wilderness at Althorp, ruminating on my approaching ordination." He also read the Ordination Service over and over, a good many times. On the evening before the ordination, whilst the Bishop and various clergymen, and their ladies, with whom he dines, candidates included, amuse themselves with a game of whist, Mr. Spencer refuses to play. We can contrast his reflections now with those used on a similar occasion a year and a half ago:—
"Trinity Sunday, June 13.— A beautiful day. I was awake from six, and thought a great deal of my intended step to-day. At 11 we all attended the Bishop to church, and the prayers, ordination, and sacrament were performed all moat satisfactorily to me. I am now bound by the awful tie of priesthood; and most solemnly, at the time, did I devote myself to the service of my Master. May the impression never fade away!"
Shortly before this he heard of Dr. Blomfield's promotion to the see of Chester, who, in answer to his letter of congratulation, offered him the office of chaplain. He accepted it, in a long letter to his old tutor, immediately he returned from Peterborough. Up to this time Mr. Spencer had been reading the Anglican divines,—Tomline, Jeremy Taylor, Wheatley, Bull, Hooker, &c.; now he begins to read the Fathers of the Church. The first he takes up is St. John Chrysostom On the Priesthood. His opinion upon some of the doctrines he met with there is nicely told in the letter to the Catholic Standard, from which the passage in the last chapter has been quoted.
"I had to make a long journey with my brother, in his carriage, on that long day, June 28, from Althorp, near Northampton, to Southampton. It was before the epoch of railroads; and I see we started at half-past three. I was seeking a book to occupy me during this long journey (N.B. no Breviary to recite in those days), and, in the library at Althorp, I hit upon a copy, in Greek, of St. John Chrysostom on the Priesthood. Nothing better. I had heard this work highly praised, and I hoped to find some animating matter for the exercise of my calling as a clergyman. I was not disappointed in this hope; but when I came to what the saint says about the holy Eucharist, as, of course, the grand circumstance which exalts the Christian priest, I was overcome with surprise. I read, and read it again. Is it possible! I thought to myself. Why, this is manifest popery. He certainly must have believed in the Real Presence. I had no idea that popish errors had commenced so soon; yes, and gained deep root, too; for I saw that he wrote as of a doctrine about which he expected no contradiction. What was my conclusion here? you will ask. Why, simply this—the Saint has erred; otherwise this capital tenet of popery is true—which is absurd. I brought in my Euclid here, as on the previous 31st of December. I see that on the following day I was in the cabin of the vessel in which we crossed to the Isle of Wight, reading Jeremy Taylor's Worthy Communicant. St. John Chrysostom, I have no doubt, had been thrown overboard, not into the sea—which was making me then rather sick—as the volume was not my own to dispose of thus; but he had been thrown overboard with a whole multitude of Saints and Fathers besides, convicted with him, and condemned for popish errors, into the black gulph of the dark ages; or rather, I had, by an act of my judgment, extended the borders of that gulph several centuries back, as the Regent's Canal Company are doing with their reservoir near our house, by Act of Parliament, over some of our land, so as to flood him and his contemporaries, and, of course, all after them till Luther rose to set up a dyke and save on dry land those who had courage to step out on the land of Gospel light which he first had re-discovered. I soon came to look on our English Reformers of the Church of England as the greatest and most enlightened men since the time of the Apostles."
He does not give up his asceticism, though he feels the pain of it; and well he might, for he would sometimes eat nothing until six o'clock in the evening, and be all the day going through his parish, or writing sermons if the day were wet. He says in the journal of one of those days: "A fasting day till dinner made me very miserable, and makes me doubt the excellency of this means .... dinner did me good." He improves upon the fasting, however, by adding another day every week, when he finds that it really helps him to eradicate his passions and raise up his mind to heaven. The bodily pain consequent on want of food was not the only thing Mr. Spencer had to endure from his fasting. It was a practice that had a popish air about it; his friends and members of his family grew indignant that he should be making himself peculiar. He had to bear the brunt of all their remarks; he did so willingly, and would sit down to the family breakfast to feed on their rebukes and send his portion down untasted, whilst the rest took their meal. He also reads Thomas-a-Kempis's "Imitation of Christ," and we see evidences of that remarkable spirit for which he was afterwards distinguished—thanking God for everything. He becomes a secretary to the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge: that institution was a favourite of Dr. Blomfield's, and he may have induced Mr. Spencer to patronize it. When Mr. Spencer saw how well it worked in its department, he thought of a scheme for improvising something of his own. He does not give particulars of what it was; but he submitted it to his Bishop, who "threw cold water on it," and Mr. Spencer simply thanks God for being thwarted. He is completely wrapped up in his clerical duties, so much so that he does not give the full time to his summer vacation in Ryde; he is always impatient to get back to his parish when some pressing business requires him to leave it; and even, while away, he is perpetually visiting clergymen, and talking upon matters belonging to his office. He seems though, ever since the destruction of his High Church principles, to be getting every day more Evangelical in his words and actions.
CHAPTER IV.
Mr. Spencer Becomes Rector Of Brington.
Mr. Vigoreux, Rector of Brington, sent in his resignation of the living to the Bishop towards the close of the year 1824. The letters which are found among Father Ignatius's papers show this transaction to have been very creditable to the Spencer family. The old rector was on the continent,—he seems to have been very much in debt to Lord Spencer, and upon his resigning his living, Lord Spencer not only cancelled the debt, but made him so far independent for life, that the old clergyman, in sheer gratitude, ordered £7. 10s. to be distributed every year among the poor of the parish, whilst he lived. George was transported with delight at the news, which was given him by a lawyer in Northampton, on the 8th November in this year, that Mr. Vigoreux had resigned. Mr. Spencer is full of his secret, and he and a brother clergyman have a very pleasant evening in telling "secrets" to each other—George about the rectorship, his friend about his intended marriage. Things go on quietly now until the usual Christmas assemblage of the family at Althorp, and George's reflection on his birthday is this: "That my life past, in the main, has been mis-spent, wasted, and worse than wasted. Last year I have become confirmed in the first of all professions, and I truly desire that I may grow riper and stronger in my office." For a while he resists the temptation to join in the sports of the young gentlemen at Althorp; at length he gives in; he plays a few rubbers at whist in compliment to his father, and thanks God that he plays worse and worse every day. He also takes a few shots; but finding his old eagerness returning, he throws up the gun at once, and goes to visit the sick and the poor.
On the 12th January he is presented by his father with the living of Brington, is instituted by the Bishop two days after, and inducted by a neighbouring clergyman on the 20th of the same month. He is now in possession of a good income, can afford to pay a curate to do his drudgery, and might follow the example of non-residence which was then so common; but he does nothing of the kind. A fat parsonage does not come to him with an arm-chair or a sofa, and invite him to sit down and take his rest. He considers now that the weight of the charge obliges him to redouble his labours; he continues to write his sermons twice over, and never misses to have one for every Sunday. It was his custom to give, what he called a lecture, on Sunday evenings, —he now gives a full sermon; he also increases the days of attendance in church as far as he can, for we find him beating up for an attendance on Ash-Wednesday; and this he calls an innovation. He gets a little keener in the spirit of asceticism just now, for he tries to conceal his austerities; and on a day he fasted till six he says: "I wish I could root out that devil of ambition and vain-glory." Probably it was about this time that the incident happened he used often to relate to his religious brethren in after-life. One day he thought to conceal his fast; but the housekeeper brought up the toast for breakfast, and if he sent it down untouched she would have discovered his abstinence; he put it in the cupboard and locked it up; by-and-by the odour it emitted perfumed the whole place, to the no small astonishment of the housemaid. The end of it was, that every one discovered what he tried to conceal even from one.
We find a thorough absorption of his energies in the work of his ministry apparent in every page of his journal, as also from the testimony of those who knew him at that period. One little remark will throw light upon his interior:—"My dear Lyttelton,—Sal and the children went away at 6½. I heard the sad departing wheels out of bed. Thank God I have heretofore found happiness in my solitude, and shall do so again, I trust. His word, and the way of His Commandments, they are my joy. May I grow in the knowledge and practice of them, and I desire no more for this world." Another instance of his devotion to his ministry may be seen in the following:—"Tuesday, March 22.—Rose (a neighbouring clergyman) and I began talking about 8½, and hardly ceased till 12 at night. Our subject was religion and the Church, chiefly."
What beautiful material was there in this excellent clergyman! and had he been where his spirit would be understood, or where one knew how to direct him, what might he not become? He found himself in a Church where spirituality and asceticism are exotics, and cannot thrive, notwithstanding that the Scriptures are so emphatic in exhorting us to practise them. Then, if he took them up, he knew not how far to go, or at what point to restrain himself. He had no manuals, no guides; but vague attempts at fulsome piety written for fellow-workmen, who differed with him on the very first principles of faith. He was, therefore, utterly left to his own views and fancies, and what he considered grace and inspiration. He was getting too unworldly for his position, too single-minded, and too earnest for the easy-going clerical gentlemen who formed the bulk of his acquaintances. Not that the majority did not do their duty. To be sure they did; but what was it? To read a sermon from a desk on a Sunday; to pay visits, and read a chapter of the Bible to a dying sinner. The Evangelical counsels, without which, in some degree or other, Christian perfection is unattainable, are exploded anachronisms in the Established of souls, as the outcry against those within its pale, who try to revive them, but too clearly proves. Ecclesiastical virtue, with them, does not differ from secular virtue, any more than the virtue of a Member of Parliament differs from that of a Town Councillor. They are both expected to be gentlemen, and to keep the rules of propriety the public thinks proper to expect from their position. That is all. "Oh!" as poor Father Ignatius used to say, "shall these dry bones live?" Thou knowest, Lord, whether they shall or not; they don't; and in his time they were farther from it than they are now. We must therefore expect, from the nature of the case, what is to follow in the next chapter. He goes perfectly astray, in his pursuit after what the "Church of his baptism" could not give him. It was fortunate that he strayed in the end from a wrong path into the right one, by the way of too far East being West.
Easter Sunday in this year he counts the happiest day he spent up to this, though he had only fifty-eight communicants, a decrease since his first Easter. His point of bringing all to the sacrament was not carried. He had even bishops opposing him in this, as in everything else that was not half world, half God.
The next thing he notices is, that an archdeacon gave a good charge, "though against the Catholics,—a questionable topic." Mr. Spencer had no special love for Catholics; on the contrary, he thought themselves absurd, their doctrines abominable, and their ceremonies mummery. He was of the Spencer family though, and in them there was an inbred love of justice and fair-play. Lord Spencer and his son, Lord Althorp, both favoured and spoke for emancipation. They thought the Catholics aggrieved, and if they were Turks, they did not see why they should cease to be men and subjects of the English crown. That was plain common sense; besides, Mr. Spencer had not got so high in Church views as some of his friends, who favoured Catholics before their elevation and opposed them after it, to please a king. The Spencers were generously liberal in all their dealings, and even when the subject of this biography, the delight of the family, thought fit to become a Catholic, their conduct towards him was worthy of their name. We shall have to refer to this afterwards; the allusion is made now only to show that the tenour of their opinions was not the creature of a whim or an ephemeral fancy, but a grave, steady, and well-disciplined feeling. Praise be to them for it. Would that their imitators were more numerous.
He has also another project on hand at this time, besides the evangelizing of his flock. He begins to build a new rectory. He gets an architect from London; has suggestions from the family about the length and breadth of the apartments; others, more poetical, survey the site to give their sentiments about the view from the parlour window; the older portion have their say about the comfort of the different rooms, with regard to size, position, and plastering. Some few even make presents of articles of furniture, and a near relation gives him a beautiful bed, which commodity has many paragraphs of the journal dedicated to its praises and suitableness. The building is at last begun, and we must say something of the progress of his interior castle whilst we let the bricklayers obey the orders of the builder and architect.
CHAPTER V.
Changes In His Religious Opinions.
For some time we are getting glimpses of his ways of thought, or rather of his ways of expressing his thoughts. We read, "godly dispositions," "mature unto repentance," "ripe for glory," "comfortable conversations," "springs in barren soil," and the "seeing of spiritual blindness." All these indicate the leaning of his mind, and recall the language of Cromwellian "Saints," and Bunyan's dreams. The strangest part of his proceedings now was the way in which he became "justified." It is hardly necessary to mention that in Calvinistic theology, which forms the basis, if not the superstructure, of the principal part of Evangelical postulates, the body of believers are divided into elect and reprobate, or justified and unconverted. The election or justification is a sentiment coming from what is supposed to be the assurance of an interior spirit that one is to be saved. With them, happy the man or woman who possesses this testimony, and miserable the wretch to whom it is not given. There is for these latter only an everlasting groping in the dark, and a seeking for light, while the insured can go through this vale of tears in exultation and gladness of spirit. Mr. Spencer was not well versed in this particular doctrine, and a poor woman, whom he met one day in Northampton, undertook to bring him to the "true Gospel light" by the "pure milk of the Word." She put together a few of those passages from the New Testament, which are generally misquoted in support of this outlandish theory, and her interpretation convinced Mr. Spencer, so that he felt justified, all at once. This good woman proved to be a great trouble to him afterwards; she would harangue him, once a week, on his unconverted state, even after the assurance. Her letters came regularly, four large pages, badly and closely written; and when she had done canting on spirituality, she would fill up what remained with the scandals of the unconverted among whom she lived, and complaints at the cold treatment she received from many. She became a kind of apostle among the Dissenters, and it was only when she had been living on Mr. Spencer's charity for a few years that he discovered where the strength of her spirit lay. He had reasons for not trusting to the genuineness of her piety, though she kept continually writing from North Shields, where she lived, sometimes in good and sometimes in bad circumstances, since the regeneration of Mr. Spencer. When she received one letter in which her sanctity was made little of, she laid the blame on slanderous tongues, and talked about suicide. Mr. Spencer then dropped the correspondence, and gave her a sum of money to purchase a like favour on her side.
He used to amuse us much by relating the system of self-laudation and encouragement that kept the Evangelicals interested in each other. One day he was describing how a clerical friend of his became justified. He had travelled a good distance, and was pretty tired; the family he thought proper to honour with his holy presence in a certain town, prepared him a most excellent breakfast. He ate with the appetite of a very hungry man, and when a more secular guest would have said, O jam satis, he jumped up from the table and shouted with ecstatic delight, "I am justified." He never doubted of his election to glory after that, as far as Father Ignatius knew. The most extraordinary feature in their modes was, that a kind of telegraphic communication was kept up with each other, all over the country, for the purpose of making the elect aware of the latest addition to their numbers. On finding his brethren were disposed to laugh at the extravagant madness of this kind of religion, he grew quite serious, and said: "They are really in earnest, poor things, and we ought not to laugh at them, only to pray that their earnestness might be properly directed." One will say: Could any man or woman with a grain of common sense, go on thinking and talking this kind of unreality, which we commonly call cant? As a fact, they do, and we have proof positive of it in Mr. Spencer himself. It is astonishing to see a man of his position, good sense, and education, talk and write in the strange way he does, whilst this mood of mind lasted. Not only does he write so; he holds conversations with every one whom he meets about the state of their soul, and those which he calls interesting, others considered very probably the reverse. He also takes soundings of people's spiritual depth, and is seldom consoled at the result. He is satisfied with no one, except two or three of his immediate neighbours who were fed mostly on his bounty or served in his house or garden. He goes at this time (September, 1825) to attend Dr. Blomfield as chaplain through the visitation of the diocese of Chester. He is very zealous throughout, and converses on spiritual subjects with Dissenters of all kinds as well as Churchmen; he does not even leave behind the followers of Joanna Southcote. Some were supposing once, in his presence, that it was impossible for followers of Joanna Southcote, and the like, not to be fully aware that they were being deluded. Father Ignatius said it was not so, and related a peculiar case that he witnessed himself. He happened to be passing through Birmingham (perhaps it was after he became a Catholic), and had occasion to enter a shop there to order something. The shopkeeper asked him if he had heard of the great light that had arisen in these modern times. He said no. "Well then," repeated the shopman, "here, sir, is something to enlighten you," handing him a neatly got up pamphlet. He had not time to glance at the title when his friend behind the counter ran on at a great rate in a speech something to the following effect. That the four Gospels were all figures and myths, that the Epistles were only faint foreshadowings of the real sun of justice that was now at length arisen. The Messias was come in the person of a Mr. Ward, and he would see the truth demonstrated beyond the possibility of a doubt by looking at the Gospel he held in his hand. Whilst the shopman was expressing hopes of converting him, he took the opportunity of looking at the pamphlet, and found that all this new theory of religion was built upon a particular way of printing the text, Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace to-WARD'S men. On turning away in disgust from his fruitless remonstrances with this specimen of WARD'S men, he found some of WARD'S women also in the same place; and overheard them exclaiming, "Oh! little England knows what a treasure they have in —— jail." The pretended Messias happened to be in prison for felony at the time. He assured us that these poor creatures were perfectly sincere and earnest in the faith they had in this malefactor.
The characteristic features of the Low Church school, or whatever name the religious bias of Mr. Spencer's mind at this time may be called, are, a certain self-sufficiency and rank spiritual pride. It begins with self and ends with self. From self springs the assurance of salvation, for self's sake, too, and every one must feel himself in this mood before he can rely on himself. When this fancy gets possession of a person's mind, they forthwith turn apostles, borrow the language of inspiration even for table-talk, and no person is in the way of salvation at all who does not completely fall in with the stream of the new flood of ideas this notion brings into the "regenerated" mind. No matter how worthy or great any person may seem to the reprobate world, and did seem to the newly-made "saint" before the assurance, they are now dark, lost, but hopeful if they listen patiently to one half-hour's discourse upon the movements of the Spirit. The vagaries of each mind are in proportion to the imagination, and the facilities for expanding them by giving them expression. But far or near as they may go, self, proud self, is the beginning and end of them all.
The woman who was instrumental in "regenerating" Mr. Spencer writes in one letter to say that she has "no pride," and that no one ever could accuse her of being infected with this passion. At the same time, ay, in the very next sentence, we have wrath and indignation at some of the unregenerate who do not think proper to pay court to her. The sweeping condemnations hurled against two or three worthy clergymen, which opened Mr. Spencer's eyes to the imposition practised upon him, are further evidences of the same spirit. Mr. Spencer's own ways of acting will be a fair sample of this kind of thing. During his visit to Chester in 1825, he lectures the Bishop on several different occasions, and considers himself quite qualified to do so by virtue of the new spirit he has imbibed. One of the conversations he describes thus:—"After dinner we had an animated discussion, in which I took a lead against the field almost. Before going to bed, I had half an hour's private conversation with the Bishop, most interesting on his account. I humbly thank God who has heard my prayers, and made me a lowly instrument in His hands for the good of this already admirable man." In the next sentence he tells us that, in travelling home to Althorp, "I did not read much, but thank God was enabled to keep my mind in godly meditation almost all the way. God knows how blind and perplexed I am still." We have taken the liberty to mark some words in italics in the first quotation, as they show what is confirmed by other passages, too numerous to be quoted, how high he had risen in his own estimation when he considered a bishop benefited by half an hour's conversation with him. He is very hopeful, though, of bringing all the world to his ideas, and says of his family: "God grant me the continuance of that kindness which lies between me and all my family till such time as their hearts may be truly opened to my word." Another reason why we are rather sparing in extracts is a respect for a passage which occurs here in the journal. "I have put down many circumstances in this journal relating to private discussions with persons in religion. Should they fall into strange hands, be they bound in conscience to use them discreetly." We simply quote what is necessary to give a correct notion of the state of his mind. He carried his zeal a little too far betimes, "he went so far as to consider it the duty of a clergyman to call on and rebuke any brother clergyman, whom he might consider negligent in his ministerial office."
Thus a fellow-clergyman writes:—
He got into some difficulties at this time in consequence of reporting to his bishop a clergyman who would not listen to his remonstrances; but mutual explanations succeeded in making everything right. The clergyman in question lived away from his cure, and thought proper to enjoy unclerical, but otherwise harmless, sports. Mr. Spencer, of course, was against this, but did not succeed in imbuing the other with his sentiments. Notwithstanding these notions of self-righteousness, he was far from incurring much censure for officiousness. His character and mode of life gained him so much respect that he could administer even reproof without provoking anger, except where it was too richly deserved. A letter of Dr. Blomfield's to him after this visit, bears out this remark. The Bishop says: ... "I hope you will look back on your visit to Chester with pleasure. You may have the satisfaction of believing that you have done good to many young clergymen, who had an opportunity of conversing with you, if not to many old ones. I was very glad to set before them the example of a young man of rank and good prospects devoted in singleness of heart to the duties of his holy calling."
That his single-mindedness and piety should have thus led him astray is not to be wondered at; for, besides the want of a state where such virtues could be properly cultivated, he had to breathe a religion whose first principles tend directly that way. The exercise of private judgment in what primarily concerns salvation must always lead one astray, because articles of faith are not creatures of human intelligence, neither are they within its compass to understand. He had, of course, a private judgment shackled by contradictions, as every subscriber of the Thirty-nine Articles has. He had an authority to obey which gave a dubious sound, and he was told plainly by the same voice that itself was defectible; the only tie to obedience was the condition on which he discharged his clerical functions; it was natural that he should see through this, from his very single-mindedness, and overlook the conditions while trying to unravel the knots with which they bound him. His birthday reflections this year, 1825, show that he did not begin to retrace his steps. They are as follows:—
"Dec. 21. ... This day sees me 26 years old, and blessed be my Almighty Protector, the last year has greatly advanced me in hope and knowledge of salvation. A reference to my observations last birthday shows me a great alteration in my views. What admirable methods does He employ in bringing sinners to himself? During the last half-year I reckon I must fix the time when by the most unlikely means God has brought me to faith and knowledge of His grace. I solemnly devote the next year and every day and hour and minute of my future life to coming nearer to Him, to learning His ways and word, and to leading others to the same knowledge, in which He has caused me to exult with a joy formerly unknown."
CHAPTER VI.
Opposition To His Religious Views.
Mr. Spencer was so taken with his new birth that he tried to have all his friends and acquaintances born again after his own fashion. He made no secret, therefore, of his religious leaning; by letter and word of mouth he tried to bring all to his side. We find, from his correspondence at this time, a shower of letters from every point of the clerical compass where there was authority or influence enough to muster a cloud for their discharge. In looking over such of the letters as he has thought well to preserve, one is struck at once with the diversity of opinion. It is better not to give names, perhaps; but a few sentences from each may not be out of place.
Rev. Mr. A.— "I have read your letter through with great care, and I can say with truth, that it has produced much the same effect upon the eye of my mind which the full blaze of the meridian sun sometimes produces upon the natural eye. It has been almost too much for me." The letter goes on encouraging him in his spirit, fortifying him against all carnal opposition. This gentleman is of the same mind as Mr. Spencer, but more glowing in his zeal for the great cause of Gospel freedom.
Rev. Mr. B.— "I address myself to one who, from that love of Christ which passeth knowledge, has evinced an anxiety for me, who am less than the least of all saints, and an unprofitable minister of the Gospel of God." This gentleman's language is of the right stamp; but he does not agree so perfectly, and arranges for a meeting, where they are to have a mutual adjustment of ideas.