"I continued, with my brother Frederick, who was twenty months older than myself, under the instruction of this same governess, till we went to Eton School. I do not remember the least difficulty in receiving as true whatever I was taught of religion at that time. It never occurred to me to think that objections might be made to it, though I knew that different religious persuasions existed. I remember being told by our governess, and being pleased in the idea, that the Church of England was peculiarly excellent; but I remember no distinct feelings of opposition or aversion to the Catholic religion. Of serious impressions I was at that time, I believe, very susceptible; but they must have been most transient. I remember, more than once, distinctly saying my prayers with fervour; though, generally, I suppose, I paid but little attention to them. I was sometimes impressed with great fear of the Day of Judgment, as I remember once in particular, at hearing a French sermon read about it; and, perhaps, I did not knowingly offend God, but I could not be said to love God, nor heartily to embrace religion, if, as I suppose, my ordinary feeling must have corresponded with what I remember well crossing my mind when I was about seven years old,—great regret at reflecting on the sin of Adam; by which I understood that I could not expect to live for ever on the earth. Whatever I thought desirable in the world,—abundance of money, high titles, amusements of all sorts, fine dress, and the like,—as soon and as far as I understood anything about them, I loved and longed for; nor do I see how it could have been otherwise, as the holy, severe maxims of the Gospel truth on these matters were not impressed upon me. Why is it that the truth on these things is so constantly withheld from children; and, instead of being taught by constant, repeated, unremitting lessons that the world and all that it has is worth nothing; that, if they gain all, but lose their souls, they gain nothing; if they lose all and gain their souls, they gain all? Why is it that they are to be encouraged to do right by promises of pleasure, deterred from evil by worldly fear, and so trained up, as it seems, to put a false value on all things? How easily, as it now appears to me, might my affections in those days have been weaned from the world, and made to value God alone? But let me not complain, but bless God for the care,—the very unusual care, I believe,—which was taken of me, by which I remained, I may say, ignorant of what evil was at an age when many, I fear, become proficients. This blessing, however, of being wonderfully preserved from the knowledge, and consequently from the practice, of vice, was more remarkably manifested in the four years of my life succeeding those of which I have been now writing."
The instilling into young minds religious motives for their actions was a frequent topic of conversation with Father Ignatius in his after-life. He was once speaking with some of our young religious on this subject in general; one of them remarked how easy it was to act upon holy motives practically, and instanced his own childhood, when the thought that God would love or hate him kept him straight in his actions: this was the simple and perpetually repeated lesson of his mother, which he afterwards forgot, but which finally stopped him in a career of ambition, and made him a religious. The old man's eye glistened as he heard this, and he sighed deeply. He then observed that it confirmed his opinion, that parents ought to instruct their own children, and never commit them to the mercies of a public school until they were perfectly grounded in the practice of virtue and piety. The next chapter will show why he thought thus.
"The 18th of May, 1808, was the important day when first I left my father's house. With a noble equipage, my father and mother took my brother Frederick and me to the house of the Rev. Richard Godley, whom they had chosen to be our private tutor at Eton. He lived, with his family, at a place called the Wharf, about half a mile from the college buildings, which we had to go to for school and chapel across the playing-fields. Oh! how interesting are my recollections whilst I recall the joys and sorrows of Eton days; but I must not expatiate on them, as my own feelings would lead me to do with pleasure. What I have to do now is to record how the circumstances in which I was then placed have contributed to influence my religions principles, and formed some links in the chain of events by which I have arrived at my present state, so different from all that might then have been anticipated. Mr. Godley I consider to have been, what I believe my parents likewise regarded him, a strictly conscientious and deeply religious man; and I must always account it one of the greatest blessings for which, under God, I am indebted to their wisdom and affection, that I was placed in such hands at so critical a time. I do not intend, in all points, to declare my approbation of the system which he pursued with us: but how can I be too grateful for having been under the strict vigilance of one who did, I am convinced, reckon the preservation of my innocence, and the salvation of my soul, his chief concern with me? I remained with Mr. Godley till the Midsummer holidays of 1812. My brother left Eton and went to sea in the year 1811.
"Those who know what our public schools are, will reckon it, I believe, almost incredible that I should be four years at Eton, and remain, as I did, still almost ignorant of what the language of wickedness meant. Mr. Godley's yoke I certainly thought at the time to be a heavy one. Several times each day we were obliged to go across the playing-fields to school, to chapel, or to absence (which was the term by which Etonians will yet understand the calling over the names of the boys at certain times); so that during the daytime, when in health, we could never be more than three hours together without appearing with the boys of the school. Mr. Godley, however, was inexorable in his rule that we should invariably come home immediately after each of these occasions: by this we were kept from much intercourse with other boys. Most grievous then appeared my unhappy lot, in the summer months especially, when we had to pass through the playing-fields, crowded with cricketers, to whom a lower boy, to fag for them and stop their balls, was sure to be an important prize, whose wrath we incurred if we dared despise their call, and run on our way; whilst, if we were but a few minutes late, the yet more terrible sight awaited us of Mr. Godley's angry countenance. We had not exemption from one of these musters, as most boys had who lived at a distance from the school, yet none of them were bound like us to a speedy return home. It seemed like an Egyptian bondage, from which there was no escape; and doubtless the effect was not altogether good upon my character. As might be expected, the more we were required to observe rules and customs different from others, the more did a certain class of big bullies in the school seem to count it their business to watch over us, as though they might be our evil geniuses. A certain set of faces, consequently, I looked upon with a kind of mysterious dread; and I was under a constant sense of being as though in an enemy's country, obliged to guard against dangers on all sides. Shrinking and skulking became my occupation beyond the ordinary lot of little schoolboys, and my natural disposition to be cowardly and spiritless was perhaps increased. I say perhaps, for other circumstances might have made me worse; for what I was in the eyes of the masters of public opinion in the school, I really was—a chicken-hearted creature, what, in Eton language, is called a sawney. It may be, that had I been from the first in free intercourse among the boys, instead of being a good innocent one, I might have been, what I suppose must be reckoned one of the worst varieties of public-school characters, a mean, dishonourable one. Whatever I may have lost from not being trained, from the first of my Eton life, in the perfect spirit of the place, could I possibly have escaped during that time in any other way the utter corruption of my morals, at least the filling of my mind with familiar images of all the most foul iniquity? For, alas! where is the child from the age of eight till twelve who, without one compassionate friend, already strong in virtue to countenance and to encourage him, shall maintain the profession of modesty and holiness against a persecution as inveterate and merciless in its way as that which Lot had to bear at Sodom? Was not the angel of God with me when He preserved me for so long from all attacks of this kind in such a place as Eton was in my time? How can I remember Godley but with veneration and gratitude, who, though, it may be, not so considerately and wisely as might be possible (for who is as wise as he might be?), kept me, I might say, almost alone untainted in the midst of so much corruption.
"Yet, till the last year of my stay with him, I did not learn decidedly to love religion. It was still my task and not my pleasure. At length, my brother Frederick being gone to sea, and two other boys, Mr. Godley's stepsons, who were with us under his instructions, being sent to school elsewhere, I remained his only pupil, and, I may almost say, his chief care and joy. He felt with me and for me in the desolation of my little heart, at being parted from my first and hitherto inseparable mate, and I became his almost constant companion. It is not difficult to gain the confidence of a simple child: he spoke almost continually of religious subjects, and I learnt to take his view of things. I certainly did not begin to lose my pleasure in life. Death was an idea which still was strange to me; and I did not come to an understanding of the great doctrines of Revelation. I remember not to have taken much notice of any peculiar articles of faith; but still believed implicitly, without argument or inquiry, what I was taught. I can now hardly give an account of what were the religious ideas and impressions which began so greatly to engage my mind, except that I took my chief delight in hearing Mr. Godley speak about religion, that I had a great abhorrence and dread of wickedness, thought with pleasure of my being intended to be a clergyman, as I was always told I should be, and admired and loved all whom I was taught to look upon as religious people. All these simple feelings of piety, which were often accompanied with pure delight, were greatly increased in a visit of six weeks which I paid, with Mr. Godley, to his mother and sisters at Chester. He was a Prebendary of that cathedral, and of course had to spend some time there every year in residence. Usually, when he went from home, from time to time, he was used to get one of the other tutors at Eton to hear my brother's and my lessons, and to look over our exercises; but in the last summer I staid with him, with my father's consent, he took me with him. Mr. Godley's sisters, who showed me great kindness, like him, I suppose, had no wish concerning me than to encourage me in becoming pious and good, and I got to read a few pious books which they recommended. 'The Pilgrim's Progress,' Doddridge's 'Life of Colonel Gardiner,' Alleine's 'Alarm,' were some which I remember taking great effect upon me; so that when I returned from Chester to Eton, though I cannot recall many particulars of my feelings, I know that the chief prevailing one was, an ardent desire to keep myself untainted at Eton, and to keep from all fellowship with the set of boys whom I knew to be particularly profane mockers of piety. I bought a book of prayers, and during the three weeks that I yet remained with this tutor, after our return from Chester, and when first I went home to the summer holidays, I took no delight like that of being by myself at prayer. Ah! how grievous would be the thought if we could but understand how to lament such a calamity as it deserves, of a pious child's tender, pure soul denied, made forgetful of all its good, and hardened. O God, grant me wisdom to understand the magnitude of such an evil, grant me a heart now at length to mourn over the devastation and uprooting which it was, at this time, Thy holy will to permit, of all those fair flowers of grace which Thy hand had planted in my heart; and grant me to mourn my fall, that I may now once at last recover that simplicity of childlike piety, the feelings of which I now recollect, indeed, though faintly, but never have since again enjoyed. Oh! God, if a child's love, pure through ignorance of sin, is never to be mine again, oh! give me at least that depth of penance for which my fall has given me such ample matter.
"It occurred not to my mind to consider whether the new thoughts which occupied my mind, and the books in which I took such pleasure, would be approved of at home. I took them with me to the holidays. It was judged, as was to be expected, by my parents, that Mr. Godley's views of religion were not such as they would wish to be instilled into me; and it was determined that I should leave his house and be placed with one of the public tutors at Eton. It is a difficult thing to classify religious Protestants, and so I do not here pronounce Mr. Godley and his sisters to have been Evangelical, or Calvinistic, nor give them any distinctive title. They did not, as far as I remember, inculcate upon me any peculiar notions of religion, but they certainly were not in the way which is usually called orthodox Church of England religion, though indeed it is difficult to define exactly what this is. It was likely, or rather morally certain, that while with Mr. Godley, I should follow his guidance, and take his views; so I was to be placed among the other boys, as I imagine with the idea likewise, that I should gain in this way more of the advantages supposed to belong to the rough discipline of a public school. I do not understand how it was that I received the intimation of this change with so little sadness. Distant evils, as we all know, lose their sting strangely; and, having the holidays before me when this change was declared, I felt no trouble about it then. It is easy to talk a docile child into agreement with any plan made for him by those whom he is used to confide in; and so I remember no difficulty when my books were taken away, and I had no more persons by to bring my former thoughts to remembrance, in quietly discontinuing my fervent practices."
"In the course of September, 1812, I began a new stage of my life by entering at the Rev. ***'s, where I was, alas! too effectually to be untaught what there might be unsound in my religion, by being quickly stripped of it completely. The house contained, I think, but about ten or twelve boys at the time I went to it, a much smaller number than the generality of boarding houses about the school; and, dreadful as was its moral condition, it was respectable in comparison to others. There is no doubt that it was recommended to my parents because its character stood high among the rest. The boys were divided into three or four messes, as they were called. Each of us had a room to himself and a separate little establishment, as the boys had allowances to provide breakfast and tea for themselves, and we did not meet in common rooms for private study, as in some schools. In order to make their means go farther, two or three would associate together and make a joint concern; and very comfortable some would make themselves. But comfort was not what I had now to enjoy.
"I have adverted already to the system of fagging at our public schools. The law is established immemorially at Eton that the upper boys, those of the fifth and sixth class, have an authority to command those below them. This law, though understood and allowed by the masters, is not enforced by them. They will interfere to check and punish any great abuse of the power of the upper boys; but the only power by which the commands of these masters are to be enforced is their own hands; so that a boy, though by rank in the school a fag, may escape the burdens to be imposed if he have but age and strength and spirit to maintain his independence. Each upper boy may impose his commands on any number of inferiors he may please at any time and in any place, so that an unhappy lower boy is never safe. Nothing exempts him from the necessity of immediately quitting his own pursuits and waiting on the pleasure of an unexpected master, but being under orders to attend his tutor, or a certain number of privileged excuses in matters about which those potentates condescend to consider the feelings of the subalterns, and where public opinion would condemn them if they did not—such as being actually fagging for some one else, being engaged to play a match at cricket which his absence would spoil. It was this sort of out-of-door casual service which alone I had to dread as long as I was in Mr. Godley's house. When I went to Mr. ***, I had to serve my apprenticeship in domestic fagging, which consisted in performing to one or more of the fifth or sixth form boys in the house almost all the duties of a footman or a waiter at an inn. The burden of this kind of servitude of course depended, in the first place, on the temper of one's master, and then on the comparative number of upper and lower boys in a house. During the time I had to fag at Mr. ***'s, but especially in the latter part of it, the number of fags was dismally small, and sometimes heavy was my yoke.
"But it is not this which gives to my recollection of that period of my life its peculiar sadness. I might have made a merry life in the midst of it, like that of many another school-boy, and I was merry sometimes, but I had known better things. I had once learnt to hate wickedness, and I never could find myself at ease in the midst of it, though I had not strength to resist it openly. The first evening that I arrived at this new tutor's house, I was cordially received to mess with the set of three or four lower boys who were there. These were quiet, good-natured boys; but, to be one with them, it was soon evident that the sweet practices of devotion must be given up, and other rules followed from those I knew to be right. I was taken by them on expeditions of boyish depredation and pilfering. I had never been tempted or invited before to anything like this, and it was misery to me, on account of my natural want of courage as well as my tender conscience, to join such enterprises. Yet I dared not boldly declare my resolution to commit no sin, and I made a trial now of that which has been so often tried, and what has often led to fatal confusion—to satisfy the world without altogether breaking with God. One day we went to pick up walnuts in a park near Eton; another day to steal beans or turnips, or the like, from fields or gardens; then, more bold, to take ducks and chickens from farmyards. It is a common idea that this kind of school-boys' theft is not indeed a sin. At Eton it certainly was not so considered. A boy who stole money from another boy was disgraced, and branded as a wretch almost beyond forgiveness, whereas for stealing his school-books, he would not be blamed; and for robbing orchards or farmyards he would be honoured and extolled, and so much the more if, in doing it, one or two or three together had violently beaten the farmer's boy, or even himself. But where is the reason for this distinction? The Word of God and a simple conscience certainly teach no such difference. At any rate, I know, to my sorrow, that the beginning of my fall from all that was good, was by being led to countenance and bear a part, though sorely against my better will, in such work as this.
"This was not the worst misery. My ignorance in the mysteries of iniquity was soon apparent. However much I strove to keep my countenance firm, I could not hear immodesties without blushing. I was, on this account, a choice object of the fun of some of the boys, who took delight in forcing me to hear instructions in iniquity. One evening after another, I well remember, the quarters would be invaded where I and my companions were established; all our little employments would be interrupted, our rooms filled with dirt, our beds, perhaps, tossed about, and a noisy row kept up for hours, of which sometimes one, and sometimes another of our set was the principal butt. I was set up as a choice object, of course, on account of my simplicity and inexperience in their ways, so that some of the partners of these plagues with me would blame me for being so silly as to pretend ignorance of what their foul expressions meant; for they could not believe it possible that I should really be so simple as not to understand them. I maintained for some time a weak conflict in my soul against all this flood of evil. For a little time I found one short space of comfort through the day, when at length, after an evening thus spent, I got to bed, and in secret wept and prayed myself to sleep; but the trial was too strong and too often repeated. I had no kind friend to speak to.
"Mr. Godley still lived at the Wharf, and though he seemed to think it right not to press himself upon me, he asked me to come and dine when I pleased. Two or three times I went to dine with him, and these were my last really happy days, when for an hour or two I could give my mind liberty to feel at ease, and recollect my former feelings in this kindly company. But I could not, I dared not, tell him all I was now exposed to, and so I was left to stand my ground alone. Had any one then told me that by myself I must not hope to resist temptation, and rightly directed me how to call on God for help, I have since thought I might have stood it; but I had not yet known the force of temptation, nor learnt by experience the power of God to support the weak. My weakness I now felt by clear experience, and after a short conflict,—for this battle was soon gained by the great enemy who was so strong in the field against me,—I remember well the conclusion striking my mind, that the work of resistance was useless, and that I must give up. Where were you, O my God, might I now exclaim, to leave me thus alone and unprotected on such a boisterous sea? Ah! my Lord, I have never found fault with thy divine appointments in thus permitting me to fall. Only I say, as before, give me grace now fully to recover what I lost; and I will ever bless thee for allowing me to have known so much evil, if it be but that I may warn others,
"It might be, perhaps, ten days after my arrival at Mr. ***'s, when I gave up all attempt to pray; and I think I did not say one word of prayer for the two years and more that I afterwards continued there. I remember once being by, when one of the most rude and hard of my tormentors was dressing himself, and, to my surprise, turned to me, and, with his usual civility, said some such word as, 'Now hold your jaw;' and then, down on his knees near the bed, and his face between his hands, said his prayers. I then saw for a moment to what I had fallen, when even this fellow had more religion than unhappy I had retained; but I had no grain of strength now left to rise. One would think that in the holidays my change would have been discovered; for I imagine that I never knelt down even at home except in the church. But, alas! little did my family suspect what a place was Eton; or, at least, if a suspicion comes across parents' minds of what their children are exposed to in public schools, they generally persuade themselves that this must be endured for a necessary good, which is, to make them learn to know the world.
"When I had ceased attempting to maintain my pious feelings, the best consolation I had was in the company of a few boys of a spirit congenial to what mine was now become. All the time that I remained at Eton I never learnt to take pleasure in the manly, active games for which it is so famous. It is not that I was without some natural talent for such things. I have since had my time of most ardent attachment to cricket, to tennis, shooting, hunting, and all active exercises: but my spirit was bent down at Eton; and among the boys who led the way in all manly pursuits, I was always shy and miserable, which was partly a cause and partly an effect of my being looked down upon by them. My pleasure there was in being with a few boys, like myself, without spirit for these things, retired apart from the sight of others, amusing ourselves with making arbours, catching little fishes in the streams; and many were the hours I wasted in such childish things when I was grown far too old for them.
"Oh! the happiness of a Catholic child, whose inmost soul is known to one whom God has charged with his salvation. Supposing I had been a Catholic child in such a situation—if such a supposition be possible—the pious feelings with which God inspired me, would have been under the guidance of a tender spiritual Father, who would have supplied exactly what I needed when about to fall under that sense of unassisted weakness which I have described. He would have taught me how to be innocent and firm in the midst of all my trials, which would then have tended to exalt, instead of suppressing, my character. I would have kept my character not only clear in the sight of God, but honourable among my fellows, who soon would have given up their persecution when they found me steadfast; and I might have brought with me in the path of peace and justice many whom I followed in the dark ways of sin. But it is in vain to calculate on what I might have been had I been then a Catholic. God be praised, my losses I may yet recover, and perhaps even reap advantages from them."
"Had the public masters of the school been attentive to the advancement of the scholars in learning while negligent of their morals, and had I been making progress in my studies while losing my innocence, I might have continued longer in that place; for I did not fall into gross, outward, vicious habits, and it is possible that no difference was perceived in my behaviour at home. But I suppose my father saw a wide difference between the care which Mr. Godley bestowed on me and that which boys in the public tutors' houses could receive. I know not exactly the reasons that led to the change; but, in the Christmas holidays at the end of the year 1813, Mr. Blomfield was invited to Althorp, and he was pointed out to me as my intended future tutor. Many of my readers will know at once that he is now [Footnote 1] the Protestant Bishop of London. My father had presented him somewhat before this period with the rectory of Dunton, in Buckinghamshire, having been led to do so by the distinguished character which he heard of him from Cambridge for he did not personally know him when he offered him this piece of preferment. From the time that I made his acquaintance, and received some directions from him for private reading at Eton during the remaining time of my stay there, I began to take some more decided interest than I had yet done in advancing myself in literary knowledge.
[Footnote 1: This was written in 1836. See Preface. Dr. Blomfield died in 1857.]
This, as well as my growing older and more independent of other boys, and falling in with more sensible companions, gave to my mind a more satisfactory turn during my last year at Eton. There was no return, though, to religion whilst I remained there, nor was there likely to be; and so, most blessed was the change for me when, before Christmas 1814, I left Mr. ***'s, and, after remaining at home for about three months in company with my brother Frederick, returned for the first time from sea, I went to Mr. Blomfield's in March, 1815. I staid there till near the time of my first going to Cambridge, which was in the summer of 1817. Simplicity and purity of mind, alas! are not regained with the readiness with which they are lost: the falling into bad company and consenting to it will utterly ruin all innocence. The removal of occasions may prevent the growth of evil habits and the farther increase of corruption; but this alone will not restore that blessed ignorance of evil which was no longer mine. My residence with Blomfield was, however, the means to me of great good. Here I was confirmed in that love for study and knowledge of which I have already noticed the commencement. He had himself, as is well known, though still young, gained a reputation for classical learning among the scholars of England and the Continent; and his example and conversations inspired me with desires for the like distinctions, to which he gave all possible encouragement. This I reckon to have been a considerable advantage to my religious welfare; for, although the motive I set before me was merely worldly, and the subjects which I studied had little of a good and much of a bad tendency, as must needs be the case with pagan literature, yet, by gaining a habit for study, I was directed in a line widely distinct from the most vicious of the society through which I was afterwards to pass; and, by being a reading man at Cambridge, I was saved from much perversion."
We shall be pardoned for interrupting the course of this interesting narrative, by inserting an anecdote, which shows how unchanged was his opinion on the merits of pagan literature. In a conversation with his religious companions, shortly before he died, he happened to say something about the discoveries of Cardinal Mai among the Bobbio manuscripts. Some one remarked that it was nothing less than Vandalism for the old monks to erase one of the classic authors, and write some crude chronicle or other over it. "Well," replied Father Ignatius, "I suppose the monks had as much respect for Virgil and Ovid as the angels have."
To resume.
"But what was of the chief importance to me at this time was, being in a house and with company, where, if subjects of religion were not so much put before me as with Mr. Godley, and if I was not constantly exhorted and encouraged in simple piety, I and my fellow pupils felt that no word of immorality would have been anywise tolerated. Prayers were daily read in the family, the service of the Church was performed with zeal and regularity, the Sunday was strictly observed, and a prominent part of our instruction was on matters of religion. It was also to me an invaluable benefit, that the companion with whom I was principally associated, during the chief part of my time at Dunton, was one who, like me, after a careful education at home, where he had imbibed religious feelings, had gone through the corruptions of another public school, but was now, like me, happy to find himself in purer air.
"With him I was confirmed at Easter, 1816, by Dr. Howley, then Protestant Bishop of London, now Archbishop of Canterbury. It was an incalculable blessing to me, slave as I was to false shame, and cowardly as I was to resist against bold iniquity, that I now had had a period granted me, as it were, to breathe and gain a little vigour again, before the second cruel and more ruinous devastation which my poor heart was shortly to undergo. I prepared seriously for my confirmation, and for receiving the Sacrament from time to time, and recovered much of my former good practices of private devotion. I remember especially to have procured once more a manual of prayers, and during the last months of my stay at Dunton I spent a long time in self-examination by the table of sins in that book, somewhat similar to our Catholic preparation for confession. But, alas! I could go no further than the preparation. Oh! the great enemy of our souls knew well what he was doing in abolishing confession. As before, when I first lost my innocence and piety at Eton, confession would, I am convinced, have preserved me from that fall; so now that I was almost recovering from the fall, if I had had the ear of a spiritual father to whom I might with confidence have discovered the wounds of my poor soul, he would have assisted me utterly to extirpate the remains of those evil habits of my heart. He would have shown me what I knew so imperfectly, the horrible danger of the state in which I had been so near eternal damnation; he would have made me feel that holy shame for my sins, which would have overcome that false earthly shame by which I still was ready to be mastered; and he would, in short, have poured in that balm and oil which the ministers of God possess, to heal, and strengthen, and comfort me for my future trials, so that I might have stood firm against my enemies. But it pleased Thee, O my God, that once more, by such sad experience, I should have occasion to learn the value of that holy discipline of penance, the power and admirable virtue of the divine sacraments, with the dispensation of which Thou hast now entrusted me, that I may be a more wise and tender father to Thy little ones whom Thou committest to my care."
Young Spencer went with Mr. Blomfield to Cambridge in the spring of 1817, and was entered fellow commoner of Trinity. He returned, immediately after being matriculated, to his family, and spent the summer in cricketing and sea-bathing, in Ryde, Isle of Wight, and hunting or shooting at Althorp. On Saturday, October 18th, he came to London with his parents. He and his brother Frederick went about shopping, to procure their several outfits for the University and the sea. On the morning of the 21st October, he set out from his father's house to Holborn, to catch the seven o'clock fly for Cambridge. This vehicle, which has been so long superseded by the Eastern Counties Railway, was filled with passengers before the Spencer carriage arrived. He then took a post chaise at ten o'clock, and arrived in Cambridge a little before six in the evening. All that remained of that day, and the greater part of the next, was spent in getting his rooms furnished, hiring his servant, making a few acquaintances, meeting those he knew before, and the other employments of a freshman. His tutor in classics was Mr. Evans, who long continued in the same capacity at Cambridge, and had the reputation of being a most upright man. For mathematics he had a Mr. Peacock, who afterwards became Dean of Ely, and restored the cathedral there. He fell into good hands, seemingly, as far as his studies were concerned. He does not seem to have been less fortunate in the choice of his companions. He is very slow in making friends; one he does not like for being "too much of the fine gentleman;" another invites him, and he remarks: "I suppose I must ask him to dinner or something else; but I should not wish to continue acquaintance with him, for though he is good-natured, he is likely to be in a bad set." He also goes regularly to visit Mr. Blomfield, who resided in Hildersham, and advises with him about his proceedings. He also avoids needless waste of time, and says in his journal: "They all played whist, in their turns, but Bridgman and myself; which I am glad I did not, for I like it so well that I should play at it too much if I once began." Besides these precautions, and a feeling of indignation that bursts out now and again when he has to note a misdemeanour in his associates, he reads seven hours a day on an average. These conclusions are collected from the notes of a journal he wrote at the time; they mark a very auspicious beginning; and, being clear facts, will serve as a kind of glass through which one may read the following from his autobiography.
"My intentions were now well directed (on entering Cambridge). I began well, and for a time did not give way to the detestable fashions of the place, and was not much ashamed in the presence of the profligate. I was very happy likewise. I found myself now for the first time emerged from the condition of a boy. I was treated with respect and kindness by the tutors and fellows of the college; my company was always sought, and I was made much of by what was supposed to be the best—that is, the most well-bred and fashionable, set in the University. I had all the health and high spirits of my age, and I now enjoyed manly amusements, being set free from the cowardly feeling of inferiority which I had to oppress me at Eton. My first term at Cambridge—that is, the two months that passed before the first Christmas vacation after my going there— was, as I thought, the happiest time I had yet known. I find it difficult, however, now to understand that happiness, and still more to understand the religious principle which had more or less some influence over me, when I remember one circumstance which by itself proves my religion to have been absolutely nugatory, and which, I remember well, most grievously spoiled my happiness. As to my religion, I do not remember that at that time I said any private prayer. I suppose I must have discontinued it when I left Mr. Blomfield's, or soon after. Yet I had a sort of principle which guarded me from joining in the profane contempt of God's worship which prevails generally in the College chapels at Cambridge, and for a long time from consenting to the practice of open immoralities, or even pretending to approve them, though almost all the young men whom I knew at Cambridge either notoriously followed or at least sanctioned them."
He alludes to "one circumstance" in the last extract as being a test of his depth in religious matters, which it will be interesting to have in his own words. It occurred before his entering Cambridge; but as it considerably influenced his feelings during his stay there, it may as well find its place here.
"The circumstance to which I allude was something of an affair of honour, as the world blindly calls it, into which I got engaged, and which had so important an influence upon my religious feelings for about two years that I will here particularly relate the circumstances of it. In the last summer vacation, before my going to Cambridge, I attended, with my father, the Northampton races, in our way from the Isle of Wight to visit my brother at his place in Nottinghamshire. I had begun, at that time, to be extremely fond of dancing, as well as cricket, shooting, and the like amusements. At this race ball at Northampton, I enjoyed myself to the full; but, unwittingly, laid the foundation for sorrow on the next day. Fancying myself a sort of leader of the gaiety, in a set which seemed to be the most fashionable and smart of the evening, I must needs be making up parties for select dances; which proceeding was, of course, taken by others as intruding on the liberties of a public entertainment; and it happened that, without knowing it, I barred out from one quadrille which I helped in forming, the sister of a young gentleman of name and fortune in the county. I was in the mean time making up a party for a match at cricket on the racecourse for the next day, and this gentleman was one of my chief helpmates. The next day, while busy in collecting our cricketers to go to the ground, I met him in the street, and he gave me the hard cut. I knew not what it meant, and simply let it pass; but on the morning after, I was surprised at receiving a letter from him to tell me what was my offence: it ended with the words (which are deeply enough impressed on my memory not yet to be forgotten), 'If I did not look upon you as a mere boy, I should call you in a more serious manner to account for your rudeness.' He then told me where he might be found the following day. Without much reflecting on this unpleasant communication, I showed it to my father, who was near me, with several other gentlemen of the county, when I received it. He asked me whether I had meant any rudeness, and when I told him I had not, he bid me write an apology, and particularly charged me not to notice the concluding taunt. He afterwards mentioned it to two others of these gentlemen, who both agreed that I had done right in sending such an answer. But soon after my mind fell into such a torment as I had never yet known. The answer was certainly right according to Christian rules, and I suppose the laws of honour would not have required more; but, at the time, I know not whether it would not be esteemed in his mind and that of the friends whom he might consult, to be too gentle for a man of courage. A most agonizing dilemma I was now in, neither side of which I could endure. On the one hand, I could not bear to look on death, and standing to be shot at was what nothing but a fit of desperation could bring me to. On the other, that awful tyrant, the world, now, as it were, put forth his hand and claimed me for his own. To lose my character for courage, and be branded as a coward, was what I could not anyways endure. I went with my father in the carriage to sleep at Loughborough; and when, at the inn, I retired from him to my bedroom, the tumult of my mind was at its height. I had all but determined to set off and go that very night to the place assigned me by this gentleman, who by one disdainful expression had now mysteriously become, as it appeared, the master of my doom; and, renewing the quarrel, take my chance of the consequence. But again, I saw this would not save my honour, if it were already compromised. It was clear that a change of mind like that would hardly satisfy the world, which does not forgive a breach of its awful laws on such easy terms. I finally slept off my trouble for the present; but my soul remained oppressed with a new load, which almost made me weary of my life. I remained convinced that I had not reached the standard of courage in this affair; and I felt, therefore, that it depended on the good-nature of this gentleman whether my character should be exposed or not. He did not reply to my letter of explanation. Was he satisfied or not? During my first term at Cambridge he was expected there, and I was even invited to meet him at a wine party, as one who was known to be one of his neighbours and friends. I dared not show any reluctance to meet him, lest the whole story should be known at Cambridge; and if I did meet him, was he again to treat me with disdain? If he did, how should I avoid a duel? I knew that having anything to do with a duel was expulsion by the laws of the University; but if I, coward as I was, had not yet made up my mind, as I had, that I must run the chance of his shot, if he chose still to resent the affront, no wonder, if the spoiling of my prospects in life, by expulsion from Cambridge, was not much regarded. The present distress was evaded by his not coming, as was expected. After this I desired one person who knew him as a friend, and to whom alone I had explained my case, to write and ask whether my apology had appeared to him sufficient. The answer to this was an assurance that the thing had been no more thought of; but it was two years before I met him in person, and by his courteous manner was finally satisfied that all was right between us. I might think it impossible that the great question could be overlooked by men, what is to become of them in eternity, if I had not had the experience of my own feelings in such an occasion as this. In that memorable evening at Loughborough, I did not indeed altogether overlook the moral question—Is a duel wrong? I had made the most of what I had heard said in palliation of it by some moralists; I could not find any ground, however, to think it right before God; yet the thought of having, perhaps before the next day was past, to answer in the presence of God for having thrown away my life in it, was not the consideration which deterred me from the rash resolution. Now, how stands the world in England on this question? It is clear that a Catholic, whether ecclesiastic or layman, has no choice. He must either utterly renounce his religion or duelling. A maintenance of the abominable practice by which duelling is justified would deprive him of communion with the Church. But how stand Protestants? The clergy are exempted from this law by the world. But how many Protestant laymen are there of the rank of gentlemen who dare to proclaim that they detest duelling, and that they would sooner bear the disgrace of refusing a challenge than offend God by accepting it, or run the risk of offending God? for I suppose the greater part would try an argument to prove that it may be excusable. The clergy generally, I believe, reckon it decidedly a wicked worldly law, yet they receive laymen to communion without insisting on this enormous evil being first abjured. I do not, however, here propose a further discussion of the question generally. To this law of the world, miserably as it tormented me for a time, I believe I am indebted spiritually more than can well be understood: at least to the misery which it occasioned me. I have heard it related of blessed (now Saint) Alphonsus Maria di Liguori that he owed his being led to bid adieu to the world and choosing God for the portion of his inheritance, to making a blunder in pleading a cause as an advocate. Having till that time set his happiness on his worldly reputation for talent, he then clearly saw how vain, were the promises of the world, and once for all he gave it up. I knew not, alas! whither nor how to turn for more solid consolation, and thus the spoiling of my happiness, which had resulted from a mistake in a ball-room, did not teach me to be wise; but it contributed materially, and most blessedly, to poison my happiness at this time. Yet, in a general way, I went on gaily and pleasantly enough, for serious reflections, on whatever subject it might be, had no long continuance."