Rev. Mr. C.— "This is very well at the commencement. I trust the Lord will add more, in the best sense of that expression."

Rev. Mr. D.— ".... To this I will never consent [renewing left off discussions], being satisfied (as I have before stated to you) that every man who is able and willing and sincerely endeavouring to learn and practise his duty, ought to be left in the quiet and undisturbed possession of his own conscience, and not forced from it against his will by others who happen to form a different judgment. In our former conversations, you told me, as plainly as language could well do, though perhaps not entirely at one interview, that you considered me to be an unconverted sinner, as destitute of the truth as any heathen could be, and in a state of perdition; and you seemed to think that I could be recovered from that fearful condition by that horrid system of indiscriminate condemnation and terror which prevails (I find) at Northampton in its most odious form, and which I believe to be essentially opposed to the principles of the Christian religion, as it is repugnant to those natural feelings of kindness and benevolence which God has implanted in the human breast."

It might be fairer to transcribe his entire letter; but then the other letters have the same claim, and that would make a new volume, for some of the letters extend over fifteen pages of foolscap paper, closely written. The sum of the remaining part is this, that he is twenty-one years in holy orders, and that God could not have allowed him to be in error all that time. He says that, "I never can for one moment admit that any one is more anxious for my happiness than I am myself, nor that any person has a greater right to decide than I have by what means that happiness shall be sought. A man's own conscientious judgment is the proper guide in such cases." He then refers Mr. Spencer to others more learned than he for the discussion of those matters, and mentions the Bishop of Chester and John Rose, "whose qualifications for the task are incomparably superior to mine." This gentleman seems to hesitate between Mr. Spencer's opinions and his own, and is rather uneasy lest he might be wrong, yet does not see the use of troubling himself, as it is all the same in the end, when one tries to do what his conscience tells him is right.

Rev. Mr. E. is a doctor, so let us listen to him. After a rhetorical preface, in which he would make excuses but would not, because they were such friends and did not want them, for handling his friend so summarily, he thus launches forth:—

"Although there can be but one line of duty marked out in the situation of every clergyman, and although, before God, the humblest and the loftiest in that profession are equally bounden to pursue the same line of duty, and are, moreover, equally frail and 'found wanting,'—yet I cannot bring myself to consider yours as by any means an ordinary case."

After thus magnifying the importance of his subject, he neither agrees nor disagrees, but discountenances Mr. Spencer's practices on prudential motives. He staves off the whole matter of doctrine, and talks about discipline.

The next quotation will be from a bishop. He very wisely and keenly observes:—

"Amidst a great deal that is excellent and of right spirit in your observations, there is a presumption and self-confident tone, which is altogether new in you, and in my opinion not very consistent with real humility. In fact, I almost wonder that this symptom, if you have ever recalled to mind your conversations, or read over your letters when written, has not made you doubt the reality of what you call your conversion; for I remember perfectly well your having observed to me, that the extreme confidence of those who hold Calvinistic opinions as to their own case, and their extreme uncharitableness towards, or rather concerning others, were strong indications of some radical error in their notions, and so they will ever be considered by those who take the same view with St. Paul of Christian charity."

The Bishop then states the case very clearly at issue between them, and points how far they agree and disagree upon the point of assurance and reliance on the merits of Christ, and proves his side of the question by Scripture, Anglican divines, and common sense.

It is a very singular thing that this bishop, when he first heard of the manifestations of Mr. Spencers Calvinistic spirit, concludes a short letter to him thus:—

"I recommend to your perusal a most interesting tract, which Blanco White has just published, 'The Poor Man's Preservative against Popery.'

"Ever yours affectionately, *****"

These specimens are picked at random from a heap of letters. It looks incomprehensible to a Catholic how such a state of things could be possible in a system calling itself a Church. Not one of these, who were the clergy working with him in the same field and in the same way, dared to say, or knew how to say, "You have uttered a heresy." Some agreed with him, some applauded him, some wanted to be left alone in their old doctrines, and some begged leave very politely to differ from him, and gave their reasons for so doing. The Bishop argued warmly against him, but Mr. Spencer took up his lordship, and argued quite as warmly for the other side of the question. If he did not put them among the reprobate, they should very likely have let him alone. Such was the state of dogma in the Establishment in the beginning of 1826; it is scarcely improved, except in its own way, in 1865. No definite teaching, nothing positive, nothing precise, all mist, doubt, uncertainty, except that Popery is anti-Christian and subversive of human liberty.

It is very hard to imagine, much less to realize, how these lukewarm expressions of assent and dissent turned, in a few months, into a tempest of opposition. Perhaps the following guess would nearly account for it. We may conclude from the letter of Lady Spencer to Dr. Blomfield (given in his life, page 70), on his being appointed to the see of Chester, that she and Lord Spencer knew something about the making of bishops and the mode of their translation. If she took such an interest in a stranger, but a friend, it is not wonderful that she should take a similar, if not a greater, interest in seeing a mitre on the head of her own son. Lord Liverpool had not yet retired from the head of the ministry, and if his politics and Lord Spencer's were sufficiently of accord to promote the man whom the Earl patronized, they would be able to do a like service to the Earl's own son in due course. Extreme Low Church views would never do for the Episcopal Bench in those days, though many were raised to that dignity with little High Church views. Whether Mr. Spencer's opinions clouded this bright future, or that the noble family would feel it a disgrace to have a son so methodistical, or whether real anxiety for his spiritual welfare, or an endeavour to prevent a future that the Bishop's ken seemed to have forecasted, troubled his parents, it is difficult to say. At all events, Mr. Spencer's religious notions caused a great commotion in the family, whilst those who abetted and encouraged him went on preaching their sermons and reading their services in their position, with one exception, and nobody seemed to mind them.

Lady Spencer took her son to London, in the beginning of the year 1826, to have his new notions rectified by Dr. Blomfield. This good doctor immediately prescribed for his patient, for he did not need much feeling of his spiritual pulse after their correspondence. The interview is thus described:—

"Jan. 24.—My mother allowed me her carriage after breakfast, to go and see the Bishop of Chester. I did not find him at home, and so came directly back again. He was so good as to call on me afterwards, and sat talking with me a considerable time. His conversation was most pleasing to me, though I could see that we did not fully agree in our view of Christian doctrine (sic). He desired me to read Sumner's 'Apostolical Preaching,' which I sent out for and began doing before dinner."

His obedience to directors of all kinds was remarkable; but the results were invariably contrary to their expectations. He began this book at once, and be it remembered, he had read it twice before. Next day he read on, and "marked many passages which he thought decidedly wrong." He goes out a little, sees an old friend, and delights in reading Cowper's "Task," exclaiming, "It is a great thing to be a true Christian." He visits the Bishop in a day or two; they hold a discussion, but part in charity; and the result was, that Mr. Spencer wrote him "the memorable letter" which scarcely left his lordship a hope of salvation if he did not at once get assured of his election.

A correspondence ensues now, which terminates in a promise given and accepted of a longer stay in London, where matters may be settled in conversation to their mutual satisfaction. In the mean time, Mr. Spencer returns to his parish, and begins reading the New Testament in Greek (another of Dr. Blomfield's prescriptions). As he lays down the volume one day he exclaims, "How do I want the milk of God's word!"

An old lady whom he visits, in illness, dozes into a stupor, and awakens unto Gospel faith. One evening he says:—"I spent this evening with a mixture of scrupulosities and comforts, but trust soon to find out what is the true Gospel freedom." There seem still some relics of the old asceticism left in him, for on having to go to Peterborough on some business, he says:—"I started in a chaise for Peterborough. I had scruples about the heavy expense of this mode instead of coaches; but I was consoled by the opportunity I had on the way of calling at Titchmarsh, and having half an hour's conversation with Lyttelton Powys. I got to Peterborough at 4½, dined with the dean and his lady at 6, and spent the evening in hearing extracts from his intended life of Bentley. I found myself in a land, alas! of spiritual barrenness; but water-springs may rise in dry ground."

It was about this time, March, 1826, that he seems to have given up reading anything in the way of theology, except the Bible. He gives an odd dip into Cowper's poems, by way of recreation. He came across a book called "The Convent," but immediately "discovered it to be anti-Christian." This apparent quiet is, however, disturbed by the play of the clerical artillery around him. The tone of one or two extracts from the letters he received now will give an idea of the vantage-ground these good champions of orthodoxy thought proper to take. One writes:—

"I know you did think it un-Christian-like to converse or employ the mind much on any subject but religion. To this almost entire exclusion of all other topics I decidedly object, on the ground of its having a strong tendency to engender a pharisaical spirit, and of its being inconsistent with the common duties and occupations of life marked out for us by Providence, and contrary to the true interests of genuine Christianity. And my opinion in this respect has the sanction of some of the most excellent characters I have ever known—persons eminent alike for sound wisdom and discretion, and for a quiet and unostentatious, but sincere and fervent piety.

"I cannot conclude this letter without remarking, that all your conversations with me, since you adopted your present views, have convinced me more and more that my own religious opinions are sound and yours erroneous; and that every day's experience confirms and strengthens me in the conviction, that the religious system which your friends at Northampton are pursuing (whatever charm it may have for enthusiastic minds) is not the religion of the Bible."

This is from the grumbler quoted above, as may be seen by the style and sentiment.

Our friend the doctor calls him to task in this manner:—

".... You are endeavouring to make up for past deficiencies, or to atone for past errors, by renewed activity or rather extraordinary efforts. This you do in perfect sincerity; and, I believe, heartily. In consequence, instead of one sermon on a Sunday there are two; instead of a quarterly there is a monthly sacrament; and, in addition, an evening lecture, with prayers, is pronounced every Wednesday evening. Now, supposing you had not taken this unfavourable opinion of your past feelings and views, would you have adopted such regulations? I think you would not; and yet, be it observed, the necessity for them was and is a matter totally irrelevant to your own private feelings."

The rest of this letter, the doctor's second, is to sober down Mr. Spencer's fervour, and make him go on quietly, hoping thus to slacken his enthusiasm and bring him to his former frame of mind.

It is sad to see a clergyman called to task for not being more worldly and less zealous. He is, in fact, too much like a Catholic Saint to be endured in the Establishment. He must eventually abandon it, or be stoned to death with hard words in it. We see the chink now through which the first alternative gleamed on the Bishop; and we see the disposition of Providence in moving him to confine himself to the Bible, when some plausible Anglican work might have burnished up what he had of Catholic instinct, and made it seem gold.

CHAPTER VII.
Progress Of His Religious Views.

It must not be supposed that Mr. Spencer broke away from the Establishment by the religious notions he took up at this time; on the contrary, his great hope is that he shall unite all the sects to her, and he fancies they are being realized now among the Methodists in his own parish. His cardinal point of opinion at this time was, that the articles and formularies of the Anglican Church required some kind of soul to put life into them and make them touch the heart; that this life had been allowed to eke out of the Church in the days bygone, and that it was high time to bring it back; the wording of the Church's text-books gave room for his interpretation, and his whole line of procedure was but acting upon it. Others interpreted differently, some did not interpret at all; with both classes of opponents he maintained an opposition so satisfactory to himself that his notions only gained a stronger hold of his mind every day. We shall give some specimens of the arguments urged against him by the second class of opponents, who were chiefly influential members of his own family. One writes,—his father:—

"I will commission Appleyard to get the Hebrew grammar you mention and send it down, and I am very glad to hear that you intend to revive that study, which must be so useful to a clergyman, and which will I hope be an advantage to your mind by varying the objects to which you apply it, and by that means tend to relieve it from the effects of too intense an application to the more difficult and abstruse points of religious study; which, if not under the corrective guidance of greater learning and experience than it is possible for you yet to have, might lead into the wildness of enthusiasm, instead of the sensible and sound doctrine which it becomes an orthodox minister of an Established Church to hold for himself and to preach to others."

Another,—his mother:—

"Infinite peril attends the setting our duties and religious notions in too austere a point of view, and seeming mystic and obscure modes of speech when describing religious sentiments; and disparaging every effort to do right except it tallies exactly with some indescribable rule of faith which cannot be comprehended by simple-minded and quiet-tempered piety, is of all things the most dangerous, since the risk is dreadful either of disgusting, or repelling, or alarming into despair. Nothing proves the perfect ignorance of human character and the art of persuasion than this process. It never can do to terrify into doing right,—stubbornness and hopelessness must ever be the consequence of such ill-judged zeal; and to the preacher uncharitableness and spiritual pride. Milton's beautiful meditation of our Saviour, in 'Paradise Regained,' has two lines which exactly fill my idea of what ought to be the mode of doing good by precept:—

.... Do not permit yourself to judge uncharitably of the motives of others because their religious sentiments are not always floating on the surface of their words and actions."

The remonstrances descend in a graduated scale from these elegant remarks, through letters from old schoolfellows in an off-hand style; frisky young matrons twit him in a very airy kind of argument, and all seems to wind up in a flourish from a young officer, "How dy'e do, my dear old parson; ever in the dumps, eh?"

The long visit to London is at length brought about. He writes in the journal:—"April 13, 1826. At 9 set off for London. I leave Althorp for a longer period than I have since taking orders. May God make it a profitable excursion!" This visit was planned by the family and Dr. Blomfield, when they saw letters were unavailing, in order that Spencer might be brought, by conversing with his old master, into tamer notions on religion.

He accordingly dines and speaks with the Bishop and some clerical friends, but the result was this note in the journal:—"I feel myself in this great town like St. Paul in Athens. Not one like-minded man can I now think of to whom I can resort. But God shall raise me some." The next Sunday after his arrival in London he is asked by Dr. Blomfield to preach in St. Botolph's Church, Bishopsgate street. This sermon was to be a kind of profession of his faith. His own commentaries on it are thus: "I had the wonderful glory of preaching a full and free gospel discourse in the afternoon to a London congregation, and God gave me perfect composure and boldness; and although he liked not the doctrine, the Bishop was perfectly kind to me afterwards." The Rev. Mr. Harvey, Rector of Hornsey, says, in a letter he had the kindness to write to one of our fathers: "My first acquaintance with Mr. Spencer was about 1824 or 1825, when I was curate of St. Botolph's, Bishopsgate, of which Archdeacon Blomfield, afterwards Bishop of London, was rector. Mr. Spencer had been a pupil of the Bishop's, and was always regarded by him with great interest. He generally came to him to stay for a few days in the spring, and used then to come and see me, and accompany me in my pastoral visits. He was a person of a most tender and loving spirit, very distrustful of himself, and very anxious to arrive at truth. On one occasion I remember his preaching on a Sunday afternoon at St. Botolph's, when Dr. Blomfield, then Bishop of Chester, read prayers. To the surprise of every one he took the opportunity of explaining his particular views of religion, which were then decidedly evangelical, intimating to the congregation that they were not accustomed generally to have the Gospel fully and faithfully preached. The Bishop of course was pained, but merely said, 'George, how could you preach such a sermon as that? In future I must look over your sermon before you go into the pulpit.' I do not vouch for the details, but this is what I recollect as far as my memory helps me at this distance of time."

Mr. Spencer went to hear others preach, and forms his opinions of each according to his way of thinking. Here are some specimens:—

"The Bishop of Bristol preached in the morning for the schools, a sermon worthy of Plato rather than St. Paul." Another day: "Went with all speed to Craven Chapel, where I heard Irving, the Scotch minister, preach nearly two hours. I was greatly delighted at his eloquence and stout Christian doctrine, though his manner is most blameably extravagant." Another day: "I went with Mr. A—— and Miss B—— to hear Mrs. Fry perform, and was delighted with her expounding to the prisoners in Newgate."

He seems to advance more and more in his own religious views; and he says his father was wretched about them. He gets an opportunity of preaching in the West End of London, and writes thereupon: "O my God, I have testified thy truth to east and west in this horrid Babylon." He soon after returns home, and is so far improved that he determines to preach extempore for the future; in this he succeeds very well. What led him to this resolve was the facility with which he could maintain a conversation on religious topics for any length of time, and the rational supposition that he might do the same, as well in the pulpit as in the parlour.

A letter to the Rev. Mr. Harvey, which is the only one that we have come across of those written by him at this time, gives a fair idea of the state of his mind: it was written on his return to Althorp after this London visit.

"August 3, 1826.

"My Dear Harvey,—Bishop Heber's sermon I think beautiful. I am also pleased with all that has come of late from Bishop Sumner. His apostolic preaching does not fully satisfy me, and I have little doubt, from his writings, that he would not consider it as exactly representing his present views. .... It must be admitted that St. Paul's sins before his conversion are not so heinous as those of many who have not ignorance and unbelief to plead in their favour. .... With regard to the question whether we be under guilt and eternal wrath, or in the favour of God and on the way of life, it seems to me highly dangerous to look to any distinction but this plain one, 'He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life.' .... Having thus ventured an opinion to you, I will go on to say that I wish I could have some conversation with you at large on these matters. I do not wish to introduce discussions on these points with my brethren, except when I am led to it by circumstances, and therefore I never entered on the subject with you during my stay in London. I have sometimes blamed myself for it, because you seemed to me to be so candid and unprejudiced that I might have done so without any risk of displeasure. I now tell you that I was much pleased always with the spirit of your sermons and with all your feelings, as far as I could judge of them from conversation; but I could plainly perceive that your views of fundamental doctrines were not what, I am convinced, are the right ones according to the Word of God and the Articles of our Church. The Bishop would have told you, I suppose, that he and I were at variance on these points, though in mutual regard and attachment I humbly trust we never before were so nearly united. Indeed, I never had an argument with him which did not leave me in admiration of his genuine meekness and charity. .... I reckon him very nearly right, and I am sure that he has real humility and an inquiring spirit; and so I firmly trust that, by God's blessing, he will be led to acknowledge the whole truth, and that very shortly. .... All that I venture to say is that he has not, to my mind, yet taken the right view of the plan of Redemption. But I am so convinced of his being on the right way to it, that I could almost engage to acknowledge my own views wrong (though I have not a single doubt of them now), if, before his departure, which God send may be distant, he does not declare his assent to them. I believe that you are just of the same mind on these things, as I was myself a year or two ago. You probably know that my present views are of comparatively recent date with me. They are, in fact, what I have at last settled into, after two or three years of extreme doubts and oscillations and scrupulosities. I thank God that from all these He has delivered me, except the trouble and annoyance of my own evil heart, from which, however, I do not expect complete freedom, while in this tabernacle. As to writers on the subject, I have none, besides the formularies of our Church, whose doctrines and principles I like better than Thomas Scott's. There are some points of discipline, however, in which I do not go along with him. But I now attach myself most exclusively to the Word of God and prayer, as the method of increasing in knowledge, and feel delighted in the freedom which I have gained from the variety of opinions of learned men, which used to perplex me so grievously."

This is what he looked upon as being in the Gospel freedom, that he was free from doctors; and it is a freedom. If Anglican doctors were, like our theologians, all of a mind in doctrine, with a certain margin for diversity of opinion in things of minor consequence, or in the way of clearing up a difficulty, it might be borne; but when one has theologians for guides who agree about as much as one living clergyman agrees with another, it is surely a freedom to be delivered from a yoke that presses on so many sides, and forces so many ways at once.

CHAPTER VIII.
Some Of The Practical Effects Of His Views.

It is high time that we should turn from the abstract consideration of Mr. Spencer's views, and test their efficiency by the great standard of good and evil—facts. The facts, bearing upon our subject, which the Journal gives up to this period of his life, the close of 1826, and beginning of the next year, may be summed up in few words. One old woman was the only one of whom he could say, "she seems fully established in religion;" and it is remarkable that this very person, Mrs. Wykes, became a Catholic later on. All the rest were in different stages of fermentation; some "hopeful," some "promising," some "ripening unto light," and so forth: they ripen more and more according to the number of his visits; but if it should happen that they did not need material help from him, they very soon got back to their old way again, and poor Mr. Spencer used to return, after his day's apostleship, much humiliated at his want of success. In fact, his missionary work was a perfect representation of Protestant missions to the heathen. He distributed Bibles and blankets, prayer-books and porridge, and three of his best and most hopeful proselytes went mad, and were sent to the county lunatic asylum. Of himself, he tells us that he used to spend from two to three hours daily in godly contemplation. Of this he began to get tired after some time, and gives the following extraordinary notions of his interior state:—

"Sep. 2. I was employed chiefly in reading Gr. Testament; but I find myself very far yet from that state of real activity of mind which I ought to gain. I wish for such experience in Christ as not to need spiritual exercises as constantly as I now do to keep up communion with God, and so have more time for active labour."

"Sep. 12. I went to Nobottle at 12 and returned at 3. I called in every house except Chapman's, and, alas! I found not one soul over whom I could rejoice as a true child of God. Yet there are signs of hope in a few. What an awful scene it would be if I had eyes to see it, or how great is my deliverance, who, though not less deserving perdition than any, am yet planted in the House of God, and rejoice through Christ in the hope of His glory."

He begins the new year, 1827, with the following:—

"I have found my mind so far from settled that I never saw myself more in need of God's grace. But I shall find it."

Strange prophecy; he was determined never to rest content until he could feel right with regard to God and his salvation, and it is needless to say that he was far from this, notwithstanding his great Calvinistic assurance.

Every new Dissenting minister that comes into his parish, he makes it his business to call upon and see if they could not unite their respective flocks, even by compromising differences. He sometimes comes home flushed with hope, and then, when he tries to persuade his fellow-clergymen of the Establishment to make advances to Methodists or Baptists, their coldness brings his hopes to nought. Nothing disheartened, he comes to the charge again, and is buoyed up, the whole time, by the hope of one day or other seeing his beloved people in one fold, under the care of one shepherd.

He removes in the middle of this year to the house he built for himself at Great Brington, and he learns the pleasures of housekeeping in a few weeks by the difficulties he encounters in the management of servants. The rest of the year, until towards October, goes on rather calmly; no incident of importance occurs except the preaching of his Visitation Sermon. The Bishop of Peterborough, Dr. Marsh, comes to make his diocesan visitation in Northampton, and the Honble. and Rev. Mr. Spencer is asked to preach before him. He does so very nervously, and although he introduces one passage into that sermon indicative of his peculiar views, the Bishop was so pleased with it, that he ordered him to print it. It was printed accordingly, and Mr. Spencer sent copies to all the friends he could remember; he even sent some across the Atlantic to old schoolfellows. Between thanks for the reception of this favour, and mutual acknowledgments of esteem and regard, with compliments and returns of the same, an interval is given him to prepare for another storm on the score of his opinions.

The second volume of his diary concludes with some distressing discussions and family animadversions on his ways of thinking. It sounds rather strange in Catholic ears that lay people should deem themselves qualified to lecture a clergyman on what he ought to believe and teach; it ought not, if he remembers that we are speaking of a land of private judgment, where every one is qualified to think and dictate to his neighbour. The friends take their arguments now from a different point. Mr. Spencer had built his new rectory and gone to live there; the architect had done his part so well, that he would sometimes come off the coach, when passing near Brington, so that he might have another look at this specimen of material comfort. It was furnished, too, in a befitting style, for George went even to London, and took counsel with his mother and others on what things were proper and best suited for a parsonage. The best upholsterers were made to contribute from their stock of cupboards, beds, mattresses, chairs, and tables, and when the van arrived at Brington, there were several connoisseur female relatives invited to give their opinions on the colouring and papering of the rooms, the hanging and folds of the window curtains, and the patterns of the carpets. All was finally arranged to the satisfaction of all parties, and only one thing was wanting,—"the partner of his joys," or troubles, as they would be now, poor man.

Bright ideas struck his friends about this time. It was thought, in very high and intellectual circles, that if the young rector of Brington were married, he would settle down quietly in the snug parsonage, and make metaphysical ideas give way to the realities of life. This they concluded was the short road to his settlement, and he himself used often to tell how long arguments on religious views often ended with, "Well, George, get yourself a wife, and settle down like your neighbours, and all these dreams will vanish." To their surprise, however, they found the young rector as difficult of persuasion in this point as in his other notions; but experience gave them the advantage over him here, and they were determined not to be foiled. The want of a house to bring the bride to, was thought to be the sole objection heretofore, and perhaps it was; that was now removed. Suggestions to that effect reach him in letters from his friends about this time. The following is a specimen:—

"It is probable that I shall return to Brington for the winter. If N *** or N *** succeeds in a matrimonial alliance on your account, I hope you will speedily let me know; perhaps an insinuating advertisement in the Morning Post might be useful to you. Joking apart, I shall be most happy when the time comes for wishing you joy."

Insinuations and arguments did not avail, so they had recourse to stratagem. One would not like to suspect that the Bishop of Chester was let into the secret, though he ought to be a capital hand at such things, as he had the hymeneal knot twice tied upon himself. However that may be, the plot was laid, hatched, and the eggs broken as follows:—Towards the end of October, 1827, he accompanied Dr. Blomfield on a visitation through the diocese of Chester. He was taken a little out of his way in order to preach in a church near Warrington. The rector of this place asked him specially;—what was his surprise to find his "old flame," Miss A ***, as mentioned in a former chapter, there ready prepared to be one of his listeners. He walked with her to church, and was delighted with her company; he used to say he never preached, whilst a minister, with greater satisfaction than on that day. Coming home from church he had to hear out compliments about his preaching, and he spent the evening with a clerical party—one was a clergyman who was about being married to the sister of Mr. Spencer's favourite. It was thought everything would come round then, and that some kind of arrangement would be made for the future; but Mr. Spencer, though pleased, was not anywise romantic, nor apt to put his head into a halter from which it would not be so easy to draw it back. It was well, however, that he was pleased, and he evinces as much himself in his Journal, when he says:

"Sunday, Oct. 21. I begin this volume with one of the most interesting Sundays I have ever spent. After breakfast with Mr. ***'s family, we went to church about half a mile from the house, where I preached the first sermon which it has been given me to preach in this diocese; and I am pleased that it should be in this church and before N *** N *** among other hearers, with whom I now converse as pleasingly as in former times, but on higher subjects. With her and her sister I walked home, and again to evening service, where I read prayers and Mr. *** preached."

But this argument met the fate of all that had been spent on him for the last three years. It seemed all settled as far as he was concerned; for there was no doubt on the other side. He got into his carriage to drive up to Althorp, and ask his father's consent. When near the door, he called to the driver to stop, and turn to the rectory. He had just formed the resolution never to marry. It was not that he did not like the intended partner, it was an affair of long standing; but he remembered the words of St. Paul: "He that is unmarried careth for the things that belong to the Lord, how he may please the Lord: But he that is married careth for the things that are of the world, how he may please his wife" (1 Cor. vii. 32, 33, Prot. version). No one was ever able to shake this resolution, and the repeated attempts of others to do so only strengthened it the more. He often related this incident to us, and when asked, if he then thought of the Catholic priests, "Oh, I might, but I thought it was some superstitious motive that made them live single; I thought I made a new discovery myself;" he would reply.

A change takes places now in his finances. He was Always extremely charitable, and his housekeeper tells of his equipment, when going out to make his parish rounds, of a morning. He would carry a bottle of wine in his coat pocket, and as much money as he could possibly spare. These he distributed among the sick and the poor. He used also to buy them medicines, and procure them clothes. Of course it was found soon that a very large income would not suffice for the liberality of the son, so Lord Spencer came to an arrangement with him. He allowed him a liberal yearly income; but George feels it rather hard, and complains of his straitened means in two or three places of his Journal. However, he set to make the best of it, and began by retrenchment from his own table. "By way of retrenchment, I have left off wine and puddings or tarts, and I have reduced my quantity of clean linen to wear." Ever himself, what he spared from his own table he brought to the poor. "We shall transcribe the simple account of this period of his life given us by Mrs. Wykes, who knew him from a child.

"His great charity to the poor and wandering beggars was unbounded. At times he gave them all the money he had, and stripped himself of his clothes to give them to the distressed; and when he had nothing to give, he would thank God he had only His holy truth to impart, and would speak of the love of God so fervently, that he would call forth tears from the poor objects of misery who came many miles to beg money or clothes of him. Many impostors presented themselves with the rest, but even those he thanked God for, and thought nothing of relieving them, as he said he lost nothing by them, but got a lesson of humility. Some poor afflicted mendicants would present themselves with loathsome sores, and these he would assist in dressing and try to cure. His house was always open for the distressed, and he often longed to make an hospital of it for the poor. He was all for gaining souls to God; he would often walk to Northampton to visit the lodging-houses, and most infamous dens of the dissolute, to speak to them of God's holy law and mercy to sinners. Indeed his whole time was devoted to doing good. He did not often allow himself the privilege of riding, but would walk to Northampton or further, carrying his clothes in a knapsack strapped over his shoulders, and would smile at the jeers and laughs against him, glorying in following out the practice of the Apostles. He fasted as well as he knew how, much stricter than when he became a Catholic. In fact he allowed nothing to himself but plain living, and willingly granted better to others. He gave no trouble, but was always ready to wait upon others, and make them happy and comfortable. He was always ready to hear complaints, and turn everything into the goodness of God. He was indeed the father of the poor, and a peace-maker, though meeting with many contradictions, particularly among the Dissenters. He bore all with patience and cheerfulness, and went on hoping all would end well in due time."

The last effect we shall record in this chapter is another passage from his Journal:—"Saturday, Nov. 17. To-day I called on Mr. Griffiths, Independent minister at Long Buckley, with whom I had one or two hours' conversation of a very interesting kind. I see clearly that all is not right with the Church." He means the Church of England, of course.

CHAPTER IX.
Scruples About The Athanasian Creed.

In the December of 1827 the old scruples, that came into his head some two years before, about the Athanasian Creed revived. Perhaps it is better to give the words of the Journal before going into particulars on this point. He says—

"Tuesday, Dec. 4.—.... Thursby came to dine and sleep here. We conversed till nearly 12, almost incessantly, about his concerns first, then about mine. I let him know my thoughts of resigning my preferment on account of the Athanasian Creed. He was at first very much displeased at them, but seemed better satisfied as I explained myself."

"Wed., Dec. 5.—I came down after a wakeful night, and much confirmed in my resolution to take decided steps about declaring against the Athanasian Creed. Thursby seemed to coincide much more nearly with my views. We talked on this and other topics until 11 or 12, when he went away. I went out in Great Brington till 2; dined; then ran to Althorp .... came back and wrote long letters to my father and the Bishop of Chester, about my intended declaration, and probable resignation of my living. I here solemnly affirm that before last week I had no sort of idea of taking this step. I am now writing on Friday, fully determined upon it. The circumstances which led me to this decision are:—1st. My many conversations of late, and correspondence with, dissenting ministers, by whose words I have been led to doubt the perfectness of our Establishment. 2ndly. My discussions and reflections about retrenchments, leading me to consider the probability of more preferment, and how I could accept it. 3rdly. The quantity of Church preferment which has been of late changing hands, by which I have been led to think how I should answer an offer myself. And, 4thly. My thoughts about signing Baily's boy's testimonial, which has led me to reckon more highly on the value of my signature."

From the letters of those who undertook the setting of Mr. Spencer's troubles at rest, it appears that his difficulties about the Athanasian Creed did not arise from the doctrines there put forth about the Blessed Trinity and Incarnation; but that he objected to the terminology as un-Scriptural, and to the condemning clauses in the beginning and end of the Creed. Dr. Blomfield is the first to reason with him; his answer to the letter above-mentioned is couched in the following terms:—

"The letter which I have just received from you astonishes and confounds me; not that I ought to be surprised at anything strange which you may do, after what I have lately witnessed and heard; but I must say, in plain terms, that your letter is the letter of an insane person. You profess to be willing to ask advice and hear reasoning, and yet you take the most decided steps to wound the feelings of your friends and injure the cause of the Church, without giving those whom you pretend to consult an opportunity of satisfying your doubts. You suffer your father to be with you two days without giving him a hint that you were meditating a step incomparably the most important of your life, and most involving his happiness; and then, in the midst of his security, write him a letter, not to tell him that you are doubtful on certain points and wish to be advised, but that your mind is made up and you are determined to act. Surely common sense and filial duty ought to have suggested the propriety of waiting till you had communicated with me, although even to me you do not state what your doubts and difficulties are with sufficient precision to enable me to discuss them; but you write a long panegyric upon your own sincerity and humility, of which I entertained no doubt, and thus, after repeated conferences with Dissenting ministers and Roman Catholic priests, far more astute and subtle reasoners than yourself, you are worked up into an utter disapprobation of one of the articles of our Church, having all along concealed your doubts from your nearest and dearest friends, and from me, who had an especial claim to be made acquainted with them. Is this sincere and judicious conduct?"

He proceeds to some lengths in this style, then tells him that it is one thing to doubt of the truth of a doctrine, and another thing to believe it to be false, and that one should take no step of importance until he thought in the latter way. He tells him to be quiet for some time, and give him the objections one by one. This Mr. Spencer does, and the answer is partly, that given in Dr. Blomfield's life, page 85, and partly, another letter he wrote to him within a fortnight's time. The argument of this good ecclesiastic shapes itself thus:—

"The general proposition of excluding all from salvation who do not believe the doctrine of the Trinity and Incarnation, as set forth in the Athanasian Creed, is laid down with certain limitations. The Protestant Church does lay it down thus, as is evident from certain quotations from the Articles. Besides, she never intends to pronounce a condemnation on any, like the Church of Rome. The meaning, therefore, of these clauses is an assertion of the truth of the doctrine simply; and for this he quotes the opinion of some commissioned interpreters and the admission of "the most scrupulous and captious Baxter that such exposition may be received."

This is the sum of Dr. Blomfield's argument; he gives several other authorities for his opinion. We need not be surprised that the argument was not convincing; and Mr. Spencer says, in his Journal:—"I had a letter from the Bishop of Chester this morning, which was weak in argument and flippant; I hope good may result from it." The weakness of the Bishop's argument arises from the dilemma in which he was placed. If he said the Anglican Church does really condemn all who hold not her doctrines, then she would arrogate to herself the claim of infallibility which she takes good care to disclaim, and even makes an article to that effect. If she does not condemn, what is the meaning of allowing the clauses to remain in her formularies, and require her ministers to subscribe, read, and preach them? His only line of argument, considering his position, was to steer a middle course, and this he endeavoured to do, and succeeded pretty well. But shifting difficulties by trying to reconcile contradictions, is a process that may calm an easy-going mind, previously disposed to indifference, but never can satisfy a clear, earnest one, that seeks the truth in all its terrible reality and straightforward meaning. A Church composed of a mass of heterogeneous elements in doctrine and practice, must be very hard set indeed when driven to give an account of herself. The wonder is, that she cannot see the absence of a Divine guidance, even in the admissions she is forced to make, if not in the very nature of her own human constitution. Only a Catholic can account for a creed, and if there was not a body of living teachers with the promise of Divine direction in their formal decisions and utterances, the Church that Christ established would not exist; and only Catholics can claim and prove this very hinge of their system, which pseudo-bishops have their hits at when they writhe under the pressure of difficulties they cannot answer.

The letter of this Bishop did not settle Mr. Spencer's mind—it unsettled him the more. Two or three clergymen were invited to talk him back to the old way, but with similar success. Lord Spencer then gets one of the London clergy to undertake the task which foiled so many. We give the father's letter of introduction, as it is so characteristic of his paternal affection and concern, and at the same time his due consideration for his son's conscientious difficulties. The Earl was staying in Althorp for a few days, and left this letter for George on his departure:

"Your mother writes me word that Mr. Allen, of Battersea, will come and dine with her to-morrow, and remain here nearly the whole week. I am very happy at this, because, if you are sincere (and I do not now mean to question your sincerity) in wishing for information, instruction, and advice, I know of no man—either high or low, clerical or secular—more able to afford them to you, more correct in his doctrines and character, or more affectionately disposed to be of all the service he can to every one connected with us, and to you in particular. But, my dear George, in order to enable yourself to derive all the benefit that may unquestionably be derived from serious and confidential communications on a most important subject, with such a man, you must be more explicit, more open, and more confidential with him than, I am grieved to think, you have yet been, either with your excellent friend the Bishop of Chester, or even with me, though I allow that in the conversations we have had together in this visit to you here, I saw rather more disposition to frankness on your part than I had before experienced.

"I should not thus argue with you, my dear George, if I did not from my heart, as God is my judge, firmly believe that your welfare, both temporal and eternal, as well as the health both of your body and mind, depended upon your taking every possible means to follow a better course of thinking, and of study, and of occupation, than you have hitherto done since you have entered the profession for which, as I fondly hoped, and you seemed fitted by inclination, you would have been in due time, if well directed and well advised, formed to become as much an ornament to it as your brothers are, God Almighty be thanked for it, to those they have entered into.

"I still venture to hope, though not without trembling, but I do hope and will encourage myself in the humble hope, which shall be daily expressed to the Almighty in my prayers, that I may be permitted, before I go hence, to witness better things of you; and I even extend my wish that when I return hither on Friday, I may have the satisfaction of learning that your interviews with Mr. Allen, who I have no doubt will be well prepared to hear and to discuss all you have to say, have had a salutary effect; and that our private domestic circle here may be relieved from the gloom which, for some time past, you must have perceived to overhang it when you made part of it, and afford us those blessings of home so comfortable and almost necessary to our advancing age. I write all this, because, perhaps, if I had had the opportunity, my spirits, which are always very sensitive, might prevent me from speaking it. God bless you, my dear George.
"Your ever affectionate father,
"Spencer."

The conferences he held with this Mr. Allen are faithfully noted in the Journal, and many and long they were. To-day conversing, to-morrow reading Hay and Waterland together, on the Athanasian Creed. He became no better, but a good deal worse, and the finale was that he wrote to his own Bishop, Dr. Marsh, of Peterborough, to resign his living or have his doubts settled. This was early in the year 1828.

This Bishop answers him thus:—

"In reference to the doubts which you expressed in a former letter, you say: 'All that I was anxious about was to avoid any just imputation of dishonesty, by keeping an office and emoluments in the Established Church, while I felt that I could not heartily assent to her formularies.'

"If this difficulty had occurred to you when you were a candidate for Holy Orders, it would certainly have been your duty, either to wait till your doubts had been removed, or, if they could not be removed, to choose some other profession or employment. Whoever is persuaded that our Liturgy and Articles are not founded on Holy Scripture cannot conscientiously subscribe to the latter, or declare his assent to the former. To enter, therefore, on a profession which requires such subscription and assent, with the previous belief that such assent is not warranted by Scripture, is undoubtedly a sacrifice of principle made in the expectation of future advantage. But you did not make such a sacrifice of principle. ... Whatever doubts you now entertain, they have been imbibed since you became Rector of Brington; and you are apprehensive that it may be considered as a mark of dishonesty, if, oppressed with these difficulties, you retain your preferment.

"I know not at present the kind or the extent of these difficulties, and therefore can only reply in general terms. I have already stated my opinion on the impropriety of entering the Church with the previous belief that our Liturgy and Articles are not founded on Scripture. But if a clergyman who believed that they were so at the time of his ordination, and continued that belief till after he had obtained preferment in the Church, begins at some future period to entertain doubts about certain parts either of the Liturgy or the Articles, we have a case which presents a very different question from that which was considered in the former paragraph. In the former case there was a choice of professions, in the latter case there is not. By the laws of this country a clergyman cannot divest himself of the character acquired by the admission to Holy Orders. He can hold no office in the State which is inconsistent with the character of a clergyman. To relinquish preferment, therefore, without being able to relinquish the character by which that preferment was acquired, is quite a different question from that which relates to the original assumption of that character: Nor must it be forgotten that a clergyman may have a numerous family altogether dependent on the income of his benefice, whom he would bring therefore to utter ruin if he resigned it.

"On the other hand, I do not think that even a clergyman so situated is at liberty to substitute his own doctrine for that to which he objects. By so doing he would directly impugn the Articles of our Church, he would make himself liable to deprivation, and would justly deserve it. For he would violate a solemn contract, and destroy the very tenure by which he holds his preferment.

"But is there no medium between an open attack on our Liturgy and Articles and the entertaining of doubts on certain points, which a clergyman may communicate in confidence to a friend, in the hope of having them removed? If, in the mean time, he is unwilling to inculcate in the pulpit doctrines to which his doubts apply, he will at the same time conscientiously abstain from inculcating doctrines of an opposite tendency. Now, if I mistake not, this is precisely your case. And happy shall I be if I can be instrumental to the removal of the doubts which oppress you. I am now at leisure; the engagements which I had at Cambridge respecting my lectures are finished; you may now fully and freely unburden your mind, and I will give to all your difficulties the best consideration in my power.
"I am, my dear Sir,
"Very truly yours,
"Herbert Peterborough."

This letter evoked a statement of the precise points, and the following was the answer:—

".... I now venture to approach the difficulties under which you labour, and I will take them from the words you yourself have used in your letter of April 30. In that letter, speaking of the Church, you say, 'I cannot at this time state any paragraph in her formularies and ordinances with which I cannot conscientiously comply, except the Athanasian Creed.' You then proceed in the following words: 'and now I must go on to state wherein I differ from this Creed: not in the parts which may be called doctrinal; that is, where the doctrine itself is stated and explained.' And you conclude by saying, 'the parts of the Creed to which I object are the condemning clauses.' And you object to the clauses on the grounds that they are not warranted by the declaration of our Saviour recorded in Mark xvi. 16, on which passage those clauses are generally supposed to have been founded. Whether they are so warranted or not depends on the extent of their application in this Creed, which begins with the following words:—'Whosoever will be saved, before all things, it is necessary that he hold the Catholic faith, which faith, except every one do keep whole and undefiled (entire and unviolated, Cath. trans.), without doubt he shall perish everlastingly. Now the Catholic faith is this, that we worship one God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity.' So far, then, it is evident that they only are declared to be excluded from salvation who do not hold the Catholic faith, that is, as the term is there explicitly defined, who do not hold the doctrine of the Trinity in Unity. Now this doctrine has been maintained, with very few exceptions, by Christians in general from the earliest to the present age. It was the doctrine of the Greek Church ...... and all the Reformed churches. To exclude from salvation, therefore, only those who reject a doctrine which is received by Christians in general, is a very different thing from the denial of salvation to every one who does not believe in all the tenets of a particular Church. The doctrine, nulla salus nisi credas in Trinitatem, bears no resemblance to the sweeping declaration nulla salus extra Ecclesiam Romonam. Surely, then, we may appeal to Mark xvi. 16, combined with Matthew xxviii. 19, in order to prove that a belief in the Trinity is necessary to salvation, and consequently to prove that those two passages warrant the deduction, that they who reject the doctrine of the Trinity will not be saved. The two passages must be taken together, in order to learn the whole of our Saviour's last command to his Apostles. If, then, our Saviour himself commanded his Apostles to baptize 'in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,' and then added, 'he that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned;' it really does appear that our Saviour himself has warranted the opinion that a belief in the doctrine of the Trinity is such a fundamental article of the Christian faith that they who reject it do so at their own peril.

"But you think that the anathema of our Saviour in Mark xvi. 16, had a different application from the corresponding anathema in the Athanasian Creed. Our Saviour spoke of those to whom the Gospel had been preached, as appears from Mark xvi. 15. And if the anathema in the Athanasian Creed had a more extensive application, or if it were meant to include not only those who wilfully rejected the doctrine of the Trinity when it had been duly explained to them, but those also to whom the doctrine had never been preached, and whose want of belief arose merely from a want of knowledge, I should likewise admit that the anathema of the Athanasian Creed derived no authority from Mark xvi. 16. But I see no reason whatever for the opinion that the anathema of the Athanasian Creed includes those who have never heard of the doctrine. Neither the Creed itself, nor the circumstances under which it was composed, warrant such an opinion. Whoever was the author of it, the Creed was framed during the controversy which then distracted the whole of the Christian Church. It applied, therefore, immediately and exclusively to those who were partakers in or acquainted with the controversy. It could not have been originally intended to apply to those who had never heard of the controversy or the doctrine controverted. It would be, therefore, quite uncritical to apply it at present in a way which was not originally intended. Nor does the language of the Creed itself warrant any other application. When it is declared necessary to hold the Catholic faith, and to keep the Catholic faith, that necessity can apply only to those to whom the Catholic faith has been presented. Unless a man is previously put in possession of a thing, he cannot be said either to hold it or to keep it.

"Surely the most conscientious clergyman who believes in our Saviour's declaration, recorded in Mark xvi. 16, may read without scruple the similar declaration in the Athanasian Creed. And if, on the authority of our Saviour, he may read the anathema in the beginning of the Creed, he may, without scruple, read the less strongly expressed anathema in the end.

"In the hope that, after reading this letter, your mind will become at ease, I subscribe myself, dear Sir,
"Very truly yours,
"Herbert Peterborough."

This letter is a tolerable specimen of the Bishop's power of reasoning, and very sharp it is too; but it does not exactly meet Mr. Spencer's difficulties. He might object:— "What passage of Scripture warrants our uniting together the two passages from St. Mark and St. Matthew?" And "being presented with a thing is not exactly the same as being in possession of a thing." "We should have the same warrant for the remaining clauses of the Creed as for the first three, otherwise, according to the Articles, we are not bound to receive them; then why not erase them?' The Bishop would have no resource here, except to fall back upon the Church, and that was not the point at issue; so perhaps he did well not to try. He uses tradition, and Dr. Blomfield authority; but these could have no weight against a Bible Christian, as Mr. Spencer was then.

A Catholic could very easily solve the difficulty. The Church has used these terms to express her doctrine, and she says this is the revealed doctrine; therefore it must be. No one can be saved who does not believe the Trinity and Incarnation, implicitly or explicitly; those to whom it has never been properly proposed, implicitly, and those to whom it has, explicitly. Some theologians will have explicit credence required of both classes, and say that God would even send an angel to a savage, if he placed no obstacle, and reveal this mystery to him rather than that he should die without it. And now it will seem very strange to say that this doctrine is less terrible than the Protestant open-arm theory. Yet, so it is, for we allow many Socinians and ignorant Protestants and others to be in good faith, and perhaps never have had this doctrine properly proposed to them. We suspend our judgments with regard to them, and say if they live well they may be saved. That is more than the Bishop of Peterborough could allow, according to his principles.