CHAPTER XII.

An Interval Of Rest And Preparation For Orders.

This chapter begins with his twenty-first birthday. He comes before us, a fine young man nearly six feet high, graceful and handsome, of independent mien, winning manners, and all the other attributes of gentlemanly perfection that are calculated to make him an object of attraction. His journal, even then, tends to show his worst side; we find self-accusations in every page, and the round of enjoyments broken in upon by serious correctives. For the great problem which moralists solve so easily, and those whom the solution concerns keep away from consideration, we will find in his life a golden key. It is too soon yet to speak about the special workings of Divine Grace in his soul; but, even so far off, we can find glimmerings of the glorious sun of his after-life. Let us look into the world, we find thousands that really enjoy and luxuriate in gay parties, balls, pastimes, and pleasures, without a pang of remorse, and others with sensibilities as keen, if not keener, for the relish of these luxuries, plunging into them with a kind of intoxicating gusto, and coming out fagged and disgusted, when they were perhaps thought the very soul and life of the company. We are told of a patient dying of melancholy who called in a doctor to prescribe for him; the prescription of the medical man was, that he should go and hear Mr. N., a celebrated comic actor, for a number of nights successively, and the remedy was guaranteed to prove infallible, for no one could listen to him and not laugh himself to hysterics. "Ah, my dear friend," answered the patient, "I am the veritable Mr. N. myself." It is sometimes argued that small minds of a feminine caste, composed of the ingredients {92} which the "Spectator" wittily discovers in the dissection of a beau's head, can be content with frivolities, whilst a grand intellect is only made indignant by them. We could quote examples to bear us out in a conclusion the direct contrary of this. How, then, can we solve the problem? Why can some live and die in a whirl of dissipation with apparent relish, whilst others get clogged by a few balls, and fling worldly enjoyment to the winds on account of the very nausea it creates? It may be considered as "going into the sacristy" to say that those whom God chooses for great things, He weans from pleasure by a salutary dissatisfaction? so the point will not be insisted on. The only ordinary way in which it can be accounted for is, that the lovers of pleasure deafen the voice of conscience, whereas the others give this good monitor room to speak, and occasionally lend an ear. Whichever way we please to look upon F. Ignatius at this period of his life, we shall find ample material for theorizing on the unreality of worldly joys. He concludes the first volume of his Journal with the following considerations:--

"Dec. 31.--I have ended this year, as the last, with a very pleasant evening, as far as noise and fun can make it. But a more reasonable way would be (as I am now in my room, with my watch in my hand, nearly on the stroke of twelve) to end it in making good resolutions for the year to come,--which may, I hope, pass as prosperously, and more usefully, than the last. The new year is now commenced, and I recommend myself to the protection and guidance of Almighty Providence to bring me safely and well to the end of it. I now bid farewell to this journal-book, which is but a record of my follies, and absurdities, and weaknesses, to myself, who know the motive of the actions which are here commemorated, and of many more which I have done well to omit. There is no fear of my forgetting them, nor do I wish it. The less other men know about my inward thoughts, the better for me in their estimation."

Many of the readers of this book will feel disposed to disagree with the last sentence. We have had his interior {93} before us, as clearly perhaps as any other man's we can possibly call to mind, and yet there is scarcely one that must not admire and love him as well, for the sacrifice he made for their benefit in exposing his interior, as for the beautiful sight that very disclosure gives them of his noble heart. It is not very easy to write an interesting chapter about this portion of his life; the Autobiography is run out, and the Journal gives no incident of any great importance till we come to the subject-matter of the next volume. Let us string together a few of the leading events, especially such as may be calculated to give us some idea of his mind and occupations.

He begins the volume by writing down that he got up rather earlier than usual, played at battledore and shuttle-cock with Lady Georgiana Bingham, and kept up to 2,120 hits. He is disappointed then in a day's sport, and gives this account of his evening: "I was rather bilious and nervous to-night, and consequently would have preferred being out of the way, but from a wrong principle, I fear, viz., because I thought I should seem rather dull and ill-humoured. But what if I did, to the gay people that do not, nor wish to, know? And what if I did, to those who do know how far it is real, my ill-humour?" It was customary, as he told us some chapters back, for the Spencer family to spend Christmas at Althorp, and collect many of their immediate relatives about them during the time. The place is beautifully disposed for every kind of enjoyment; there are landscapes and pictures for the ladies to draw from, fine grounds for the gentlemen to shoot over, everything that generosity and princely goodness could procure to make the evenings as lively and entertaining as possible. Balls and dances were, of course, a _sine qua non_. Let us not, however, imagine it was all dissipation at Althorp. Lords Althorp and Lyttelton used, every Sunday and often on week days, to read a sermon to the assembled guests from some of the Anglican divines, and sometimes, too, from the French, as we may see in a remark in the first chapter. The party at Althorp this Christmas did not go beyond three-and-twenty. George, notwithstanding {94} the sour extract quoted above, went into the sports with heartfelt glee occasionally, and, as a proof of this, it is enough to say that he danced, in one night, in seven country dances and eight sets of quadrilles. He says in one place: "Lyttelton, Sarah (Lady Lyttelton), and I, breakfasted together, talking of a wise resolve of Nannette's, to pull down a house she had just finished at Richmond, because it was not pretty enough for the inhabitants to look at."

He goes to London as soon as the Christmas party is broken up, where he dines chiefly at home, but is about occasionally, seeing his old friends, and different things that pleased his whim or his taste. One of these was "seeing the King going in state, and the nobility as contented as if they never said a word against him on the Queen's trial;" another was hearing Bishop Van Mildert preach. He has the good fortune of meeting Sir Walter Scott at his father's, and says "We all stayed the evening listening to him telling Scotch stories." His next evening would be, perhaps, in the House of Lords or Commons, and all the family seemed in a great stir to be present at the debates on the "Catholic Question." What opinions they held about it do not appear from the Journal; but there is nothing said there against Catholics since he left Italy.

He begins to clear away the mist that lay between him and the parsonage. He puts himself a little in the way of learning something of what a clergyman could not be respectable without. His first essays in this direction were, to hire a "dirty Jew master" to teach him Hebrew, and to go occasionally to Mr. Blomfield's, who was rector of Whitechapel, to dine and talk with clerical company. The first time he tried this is told as follows:--

"I took up Fremantle, and we went together to Blomfield's to dine. We met Dr. Lloyd, Mr. Rennel, Mr. and Mrs. Lyall, Mr. Watkinson, Mr. Mawman, Mr. Tavel, and one more clergyman--a proper High Church set, with language of intolerance. I was much amused though by observing them." So much for his first lesson in church polity. That he was not extravagant at this time is evidenced {95} by a little incident. He found himself the possessor of a good sum, and had been, for some time, putting part of his allowance aside until he finds himself able to pay his brother, Lord Althorp, what he lent him to pay off his debts in Cambridge, as early as the 7th of April. "This was a very busy day. I first went to Althorp to offer him payment of a large debt I owe him, but he refused it very generously, and made me rich in a moment by so doing."

He pays off the Jew on the 25th of April, having had his lectures from the 8th of March previous. This apparent falling away from the spirit of his vocation, was redeemed in a few days, by his falling half in love with some very high lady. He crosses himself immediately for the absurdity, and wishes she were a clergyman's daughter. This fit wears out completely in ten days' time. Lord John Russell and Sydney Smith dine at his father's, and he says of the latter: "Sydney Smith is a new person on my list, and very entertaining he is." The author of "Peter Plimley's Letters" must certainly have been an agreeable guest. On the 15th of June he gives the following note:--"My father and I went to see the marriage of Mr. Neville and Lady Georgiana Bingham, in the Portuguese Catholic Chapel, in South Street, close to Vernon's house. Dr. Poynter, the Catholic bishop of London, performed it, and gave us a long-prosy dissertation on the sacrament of marriage." The scene changes now to Ryde, Isle of Wight, where the family go to spend the summer. George occupies his time there in riding, fishing (with no success), boating, cricketing, and doing the tutor to a young ward of his father. He also learnt perspective from a Mr. Vorley, and his opinion of him is, that "he talks more nonsense than any one I know in a given time." He remained his pupil until he "picked his brains," which did not require much time or application seemingly. He hears of Napoleon's death, and comments thereon thus:--"We heard this morning of Bonaparte being dead in St. Helena. It does not make so much noise as one would have thought his death must eight years ago. For one thing, it will save us £150,000 a year."

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St. Swithin's Day, July 15. "It rained all morning, which is ominous. "This kept them indoors, and it was well, for they were all in a bustle preparing for the coronation of William IV. The countess and her maids were busy at the laces and the freshening of faded colours, until the earl's state robes were got ready; when he was called upon to fit them on, that the keen glance of ladies' eyes might see if there was a flaw or a speck to be removed. George was present at the time, and says: "My father put on his robes, and was looked at by a room full of ladies and gentlemen." George himself, by the way, makes some bold efforts at grandeur, and succeeds in getting into the Peers' quarter of Westminster Abbey, at the coronation, "dressed in red coat, with ruffs." After the coronation, they return to the Isle of Wight, and George resumes his sports, with a little variation namely, that he hears a "twaddle preacher," and receives the Sacrament without much preparation, a proceeding he thus defends:--"I never can be satisfied by any motives that occur for refusing on account of short notice, and I think that when the Office is performed with devotion and sincerity, to the best of one's ability, it is always profitable."

It may be objected that we do not give more numerous extracts from the Journal; but we think it would tire the patience of readers to be told, gravely and solemnly, such grand events as, "George Lyttelton, Lord Lyttelton's eldest child, got into breeches to-day." Matters kindred to this, with the hours of dining, and names of the guests, form the bulk of the diary.

Towards the end of this year, 1821, he finds himself alone in Althorp, waiting for the collecting of the Christmas party there, and muses thus:--"I wish I might go on living as I now do, without any company and nonsense. I have daily amusement, and, withal, get through a good deal of reading." This last clause will make many expect that Tillotson or Jeremy Taylor is in his hands for a great part of the day. It may be so, but we are told in the same page:--"In the evening I read 'Guy Mannering;' for a novel, when once begun, enslaves me." He was very fond of the Waverly Novels, and seems to have read them as {97} they came out. He misses a hunt, through mistake, and says; "I was annoyed to-day at the hoy I made in my manoeuvres; but I am ashamed of being so, for it all came from my odious vanity, and sensibility to the opinion of all the fools I met with." On his twenty-second birthday he makes these reflections:--"This anniversary becomes uninteresting after passing 21. But it should be a useful annual admonition to make the best of our short, fleeting life. What are called the best and happiest years of life are already past with me. God grant that I make those that remain more profitable to others, and consequently to myself. As to happiness, I think my temper and dispositions have prevented my having my share to the full of youthful pleasures; so I may look forward to the future for better circumstances: if I can but tutor my mind into contentment at my situation, and an engrossing wish to make my duty the leading guide of my actions. Indolence and irresolution are my stumbling blocks."

The new year of 1822 was danced into Althorp by a grand ball. Three days after he had a narrow escape with his life; he went out partridge-shooting with Lord Bingham, and this gentleman's powder-flask took fire, and burst in his hand. George and the attendants were nearly blown up, and Lord Bingham was severely scorched. This he considered the greatest danger he was ever in, and thanks God for his escape. The impression, however, did not last long; for he tells us, as the result of a game of cards, on the same night:--"I did not get to sleep for a long time for thinking over a trick at cards which E---- did. I succeeded in discovering it." When the Christmas party is dissolved, George's comments are: "I am sorry they are all going, though the young damsels have caught nothing of my heart."

There is an event now to be recorded. He becomes a magistrate, and his first essay in court makes him think the business very amusing. He shouts huzza! on hearing that his brother Robert is about to come home. True, however, to his character, of never undertaking anything unless he knew its obligations sufficiently to be able to acquit himself {98} in them to the satisfaction of his conscience, he goes to London, and studies "Blackstone's Commentaries," to qualify him for a proper discharge of his duties as a magistrate. He dines, dances, goes to balls and theatres, pays visits and bills during his stay in London, notwithstanding.

Now he begins to prepare seriously for his future profession. Full nine months before he is to receive Orders, on March the 12th he begins to write a sermon. That is the point; let a man give a sermon, and he may become a minister any day, provided he has an earl or a viscount at his back, and a bishop who sits _tête â tête_ with either in the House of Lords, and has two or three sons whom he wishes to put into posts of honour. The sermon is everything. Any one can read the Service, provided he has a good voice and distinct utterance; but the sermon--that requires brains, views, style, and paper. How these things can be done without we shall see further on. For the present, poor George did not discover the secret. He could bowl to a wicket, play cribbage, read Walter Scott, and shoot partridges, but where was his theology? The twenty-five lectures were buried long ago under some stone between Cambridge and Althorp. Well, the fact of it was, he must do something. He goes to hear the "crack" preachers of London, and even the "twaddle" ditto. He catches up some idea from them, borrows the book Lord Althorp reads from on Sunday afternoons, and gets an idea of what a sermon is like. He sets to, therefore, to write one himself, and in six months that sermon is finished.

One could not expect him to be a bookworm just now. Lord Palmerston is at a stag-hunt, and patronized the young candidate. Washington Irving dines at his father's, and George has to take notes of his "Yankee twang, sallow complexion, and nasal sounds." He used to say to us that one who saw Irving, and heard him speak, could never believe he was the author of "The Traveller" or "Bracebridge Hall," and much less of "Knickerbocker's History of New York." Irving himself alludes to this, when he says, somewhere, that the London people {99} "wondered that he held a quill in his hand, instead of wearing it in his scalp-lock." He gets over all this after the Ryde recreation, and the hunting at Wiseton, when, towards the end of September this year, he bids farewell to his military life as a cornet in the Yeomanry of Northampton. This is as a preparation for his Orders; but they come upon him still unexpectedly when he receives a letter from the Bishop of Peterborough, on the 5th of October, to signify that he would have Ordination on the 22nd of December following. He writes to the Diocesan Examiner to ask what books he is to read, and how he is to prepare, and that gentleman graciously tells him that he need not trouble himself; that he knows, from the respectability of his family, he must be already quite prepared. [Footnote 5] George is contented for the present, but he has an eye to the future; he borrows, therefore, some twelve of the Wimbledon clergyman's best sermons, and says "that will set me up for a start." He then goes on retreat about the 16th of December, and his day is divided into four principal parts, making allowances for dinner and {100} sleep, consisting of shooting, cribbage, whist, and sermon writing or copying, as the case might be. On the 18th, two days before, he adds one more spiritual exercise to his usual ones; he reads a novel. The next day he goes off to Peterborough, and dines with the Dean and his wife, "who are to feed him" whilst he is there. His examination is gone through--one of the Thirty-nine Articles to be translated into Latin, and he has an _exposé_, with illustrations, on the nature of mesmerism, for the rest of the terrible ordeal. This passed successfully, he comes home to the Dean's house, bids good night to the _materfamilias_, and collects his spirits for the great occasion. He is wrapt in sublime ecstacy, and bursts forth into the following exclamation in his Journal: "I am 22 years old, and not yet engaged to be married!"

[Footnote 5: Here is a copy of the letter with which he was favoured from that dignitary: " Yarmouth, Norfolk, October 12.

"My Dear Sir, "I am sorry my absence from Cambridge may have made me appear neglectful in answering your letter, but I have some consolation in thinking that you will not have suffered by the delay. As far as I am concerned, in my character of examiner, it is impossible that I could ever entertain any idea of subjecting a gentleman with whose talents and good qualities I am so well acquainted as I am with yours, to any examination except one as a matter of form, for which a verse in the Greek Testament, and an Article of the Church of England returned into Latin will be amply sufficient. With regard to the doctrinal part of the examination, that is taken by the Bishop himself, but it is confined entirely to the prepared questions, which are a test of opinions, not of scholarship. This information, then, will, I trust, be satisfactorily, and will leave you at liberty to pursue your theological studies in that course which you yourself prefer, and which I am confident will be a good one. I really am unable to say whether the Bishop of Peterbro' requires a certificate of the Divinity Lectures or not, but I know that he does not in all cases make it a _sine qua non_; at any rate, I think you had better send for it, as it will give the professor but very little trouble to forward it under cover to your father.

"If I can be of the least service in answering any other queries, or in any other way whatever, I beg you will, at any time, give me a line; and believe me, my dear Sir,

"Yours very sincerely, "T. S. Hughes. "I shall not be in Camb. till the beginning of next month."]

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