Part 7

One of the grievances then discussed was the exclusion of Dissenters from participation in the advantages of the Universities. The propriety of imposing tests at matriculation, and on proceeding to degrees, especially to degrees in the faculties of law and physic, had been from time to time debated, both in the University and in the House of Commons. The ancient practice had, notwithstanding, been steadily maintained. On one occasion, in 1772, the House had even gone so far as to decline, by a majority of 146, to receive a petition on the subject. In December 1833, however, Professor Pryme offered Graces to the Senate for appointing a Syndicate to consider the abolition or the modification of subscription on graduation. The ‘Caput[48]’ rejected them. In February of the following year, Dr Cornwallis Hewett, Downing Professor of Medicine, offered a similar Grace to consider the subject with special reference to the faculty of medicine. This also was rejected by the ‘Caput’ on the veto of the Vice-Chancellor, Dr King, President of Queens’ College. These two rejections, following so closely upon each other, made it evident that the authorities of the University were not disposed so much as to consider the subject. It was therefore determined to extend the field of the controversy, and at once to apply to the Legislature. A meeting was held at Professor Hewett’s rooms in Downing College, at which it was agreed to present an identical petition to both Houses of Parliament. The document began by stating the attachment of the petitioners to the Church of England, and to the University as connected therewith; and further, their belief ‘that no civil or ecclesiastical polity was ever so devised by the wisdom of man as not to require, from time to time, some modification from the change of external circumstances or the progress of opinion.’ They then suggested—this was the word employed—

‘“That no corporate body, like the University of Cambridge, can exist in a free country in honour and safety unless its benefits be communicated to all classes as widely as may be compatible with the Christian principles of its foundation”; and urged “the expediency of abrogating by legislative enactment every religious test exacted from members of the University before they proceed to degrees, whether of Bachelor, Master, or Doctor, in Arts, Law, or Physic.”’

This petition was signed by sixty-two resident members of the Senate. Among them were two Masters of Colleges, Dr Davy, of Caius, and Dr Lamb, of Corpus Christi; and nine Professors, Hewett, Lee, Cumming, Clark, Babbage, Sedgwick, Airy, Musgrave, Henslow; some of whom were either Conservatives, or very moderate Liberals. It was presented to the House of Lords by Earl Grey, and to the House of Commons by Mr Spring-Rice, member for the town of Cambridge. As might have been expected, it was met, after an interval of about ten days, by a protest, signed by 110 residents; which was shortly followed by a counter-petition to Parliament, signed by 258 members of the Senate, mostly non-residents—a number which would no doubt have been greatly enlarged had there been more time for collecting signatures[49]. These expressions of opinion, however, which showed that even resident members of the University were not unanimous in desiring the proposed relief, while non-residents were probably strongly opposed to it, did not prevent the introduction of a Bill into the House of Commons to make it ‘lawful for all his Majesty’s subjects to enter and matriculate in the Universities of England, and to receive and enjoy all degrees in learning conferred therein (degrees in Divinity alone excepted), without being required to subscribe any articles of religion, or to make any declaration of religious opinions respecting particular modes of faith and worship.’ The third reading of this Bill was carried by a majority of 89; but it was rejected in the House of Lords by a majority of 102.

It will easily be imagined that these proceedings were watched with the greatest interest at Cambridge. Public opinion had risen to fever-heat, and a plentiful crop of pamphlets was the result. It is difficult nowadays to read without a smile these somewhat hysterical productions, with their prophecies of untold evils to come, should the fatal measure suggested by the petitioners ever pass into the Statute-book. Among these pamphlets that which most concerns our present purpose was by Dr Thomas Turton, then Regius Professor of Divinity, and afterwards Lord Bishop of Ely, entitled, _Thoughts on the Admission of Persons, without regard to their Religious Opinions, to certain Degrees in the Universities of England_. Dr Turton was universally respected, and his pamphlet attracted great attention on that account, and also from the ability and ingenuity of the argument. He adopted the comparative method; and endeavoured to prove that evils would ensue from the intercourse of young men who differed widely from one another in theological beliefs, by tracing the history of the Theological Seminary for Nonconformists, commenced by the celebrated Dr Doddridge, in 1729, at Northampton, and subsequently removed to Daventry in 1751. The gauntlet thus thrown down was taken up by Thirlwall, who lost but little time in addressing to him a _Letter on the Admission of Dissenters to Academical Degrees_. After stating briefly that what he was about to say would be said on his own responsibility, and that he did not come forward as ‘the organ or advocate’ of those who had taken the same side as himself, many of whom, he thought, would not agree with him, he proceeded to attack the analogy between Cambridge and Daventry which Dr Turton had attempted to establish. ‘Our colleges,’ he boldly asserted, ‘are not theological seminaries. We have no theological colleges, no theological tutors, no theological students.’ The statement was literally true; it might even be said to be as capable of demonstration as any simple mathematical proposition; but uttered in that way, in a controversial pamphlet, in support of a most unpopular cause, it must have sounded like the blast of a hostile trumpet. This, however, was not all. Dr Turton had claimed for the Universities the same privilege which was enjoyed by Nonconformists, viz. the possession of colleges where ‘those principles of religion alone are taught which are in agreement with their own peculiar views.’ Thirlwall, therefore, proceeded to inquire whether the colleges, though not theological seminaries, might be held to be schools for religious instruction. This question again he answered in the negative; and his opponent having placed in the foremost rank among the privileges long exercised by the Universities (1) the relation of tutor to pupil, (2) the chapel services, (3) the college lectures, he proceeded to examine whether these could ‘properly be numbered among the aids to religion which this place furnishes.’ To him it appeared impossible, under any circumstances, to instil religion into men’s minds against their will. ‘We cannot even prescribe exercises, or propose rewards for it, without killing the thing we mean to foster.’ The value of the three aids above enumerated had been, he thought, greatly exaggerated; and compulsory attendance at chapel—‘the constant repetition of a heartless, mechanical service’—he denounced as a positive evil.

‘My reason for thinking that our daily services might be omitted altogether, without any material detriment to religion, is simply that, as far as my means of observation extend, with an immense majority of our congregation it is not a religious service at all, and that to the remaining few it is the least impressive and edifying that can well be conceived[50].’

He had no fault to find with the decorum of the service, but he criticised it as follows:

‘If this decorum were to be carried to the highest perfection, as it might easily be, if it should ever become a mode and a point of honour with the young men themselves, the thing itself would not rise one step in my estimation. I should still think, that the best which could be said of it would be, that at the end it leaves every one as it found him, and that the utmost religion could hope from it would be to suffer no incurable wounds.

‘As to any other purposes, foreign to those of religion, which may be answered by these services, I have here no concern with them. I know that it is sometimes said that the attendance at chapel is essential to discipline; but I have never been able to understand what kind of discipline is meant: whether it is a discipline of the body, or of the mind, or of the heart and affections. As to the first, I am very sensible of the advantage of early rising; but I think this end might be attained by a much less circuitous process; and I suppose that it will hardly be reckoned among the uses of our evening service, that it sometimes proves a seasonable interruption to intemperate gaiety. But I confess that the word discipline, applied to this subject, conveys to my mind no notions which I would not wish to banish: it reminds me either of a military parade, or of the age when we were taught to be _good_ at church[51].’

As a remedy for the existing state of things he suggested a weekly service, ‘which should remind the young men of that to which they have, most of them, been accustomed at home.’ Such a service as this, he thought, ‘would afford the best opportunity of affording instruction of a really religious kind, which should apply itself to their situation and prospects, and address itself to their feelings.’

Next he took the college lectures in divinity, and proceeded to show, that, for the most part, they had no claim to be called theological. This part of his pamphlet excited even greater dissatisfaction than the other; and it must be admitted that it was by far the weakest part of his case. His statements under this head were presently examined, and completely refuted, by Mr Robert Wilson Evans, then a resident Fellow of Trinity, who published a detailed account of the lectures on the New Testament which he had given during the past year in his own college.

Up to this time Mr Whewell had taken no part in the controversy, because he had felt himself unable ‘fully to agree with either of the contending parties.’ But his position as tutor of the college whence the denunciation of the existing system had emanated—for the system of Trinity College was practically the system of all the other colleges in the University also—compelled him, though evidently with the greatest reluctance, to break silence. He argued that Thirlwall’s opinion, that we cannot prescribe exercises or propose rewards for religion without killing that which we fain would foster, strikes at the root of all connexion between religion and civil institutions, such as an Established Church and the like; that external influences have always been recognized by Christian communities, and must have been used even in the case of those services at home which his opponent approved. Chapel service is nothing more than family prayers. If, therefore, we teach our students that compulsion is destructive of all religion, shall we not make them doubt the validity of the religion which was instilled into their minds at home? The aim of such ordinances and safeguards is to throw a religious character over all the business of life; to bind religious thought upon us by the strongest of all constraints—the constraint of habit. He admitted that all was not perfect in the chapel services as they existed; and lamented that the task of those who wished to make the undergraduates more devout would henceforward be harder than it had ever been before, through their consciousness of a want of unanimity among their instructors. A stated method is of use in religion as it is in other studies. What would become of men under the voluntary system? It is interesting to remark that in a subsequent pamphlet written a few months later—in September 1834—he spoke in favour of such a change in the Sunday service as Thirlwall had suggested. Towards the close of his Mastership this change was effected, and a sermon was introduced at the second of the two morning services on Sundays. We are not aware, however, that the movement which resulted in this alteration was regarded with any special favour by the Master[52].

Thirlwall’s pamphlet is dated May 21, 1834; Whewell’s four days later. On the 26th the Master, Dr Wordsworth, wrote to Mr Thirlwall, calling upon him to resign the assistant-tutorship. The words used were:

‘I trust you will find no difficulty in resigning the appointment of assistant-tutor which I confided to you somewhat more than two years ago. Your continuing to retain it would, I am convinced, be very injurious to the good government, the reputation, and the prosperity of the college in general, to the interests of Mr Whewell in particular, and to the welfare of the young men, and of many others.’

In another passage he went further still:

‘With respect to the letter itself, I have read it with some attention, and, I am sorry to say, with extreme pain and regret. It appears to me of a character so out of harmony with the whole constitution and system of the college that I find some difficulty in understanding how a person with such sentiments can reconcile it to himself to continue a member of a society founded and conducted on principles from which he differs so widely.’

The Heads of Houses of that day regarded themselves as seated upon an academic Olympus, from whose serene heights they surveyed the common herd beneath them with a sort of contemptuous pity; and they not only exacted, but were commonly successful in obtaining, the most precise obedience from their subjects. In Trinity College, however, at least since the days of Dr Bentley, the Master had usually been in the habit of consulting the Seniors before taking any important step; but, on this occasion, it is quite clear that the Seniors were not consulted. The Master probably thought that as he appointed the assistant-tutors he could also remove them. We believe, however, that even in those days the Master usually consulted the tutors before appointing their subordinates; and common courtesy would have suggested a similar course of action before dismissing a distinguished scholar[53].

Thirlwall lost no time in obeying the Master’s commands, and then issued a circular to the Fellows of the college, enclosing a copy of the Master’s letter, in order that they might learn what was ‘the power claimed by the Master over the persons engaged in the public instruction of the college, and the manner in which it has been exercised;’ and, secondly, that he might learn from them how far they agreed with the Master as to the propriety of his continuing a member of the Society. On this point he entreated each of them to favour him with a ‘private, explicit, and unreserved declaration’ of his opinions. It is needless to say that one and all desired to retain him among them; and the Master’s conduct was condemned by a large majority. It must not, however, be supposed that Thirlwall’s own conduct was held to be free from fault. He was much blamed for having resigned so hastily, without consulting any one, as it would appear, except Whewell and Perry. Moreover, many of the Fellows, among whom was Mr Hare, condemned the Master’s action, and censured Thirlwall’s rashness in publishing such sentiments while holding a responsible office, with almost equal severity. This feeling explains, as we imagine, the very slight resistance made to an act which, under any other circumstances, would have caused an explosion. The Fellows felt that the victim had put himself in the wrong; and that, much as they regretted the necessity of submission, it was the only course to be taken. Thirlwall mentions in a letter to Professor Pryme that when he showed the Masters communication to Whewell, the latter ‘expressed great regret,’ but ‘did not intimate that there could be any doubt as to our connexion being at an end.’

It has often been said that Whewell did not exert himself as he might have done to avert the catastrophe. We are glad to know, as we now do most distinctly, from a letter written by him to Professor Sedgwick[54], full of grief at what had happened, and of apprehension at its probable consequences, that he had done all in his power to stay the Master’s hand. He does not say, in so many words, that the Master had consulted him _before_ he sent the letter; but he does say that ‘the Master’s request to him (Mr Thirlwall) to resign the tuition I entirely disapprove of, and expressed my opinion against it to the Master as strongly as I could.’ If Thirlwall felt some resentment against Whewell at first—as we believe he did—the feeling soon died away, and towards the end of September he wrote him a long letter which ended with the following passage:

‘Besides the explanations which I desired, your letter has afforded me a still higher satisfaction, in shewing me that I am indebted to you for an obligation on which I shall always reflect with pleasure and gratitude—in the attempt which you made to avert the evil which my imprudence had drawn upon me. And as this is the strongest proof you could have given of the desire you felt to continue the relation in which we stood with one another, so it encourages me to hope that I may still find opportunities, before I leave this place, of co-operating with you, though in a different form, for the like ends. But at all events I shall never cease to retain that esteem and regard with which I now remain yours most truly,

C. THIRLWALL[55].’

In reviewing the whole controversy at a distance of more than half a century, with, we must admit, a strong bias in Thirlwall’s favour, it is impossible not to admit that he had made a mistake. In all questions of college management it is most important that the authorities should appear, at any rate, to be unanimous; and the words ‘my imprudence,’ which occur in the passage quoted above from his letter to Whewell, indicate that by that time he had begun to take the same view himself. It is easy to see how he had been drawn into an opposite course. He had never considered that he had anything to do with the chapel discipline; he had agreed to attend himself, but he did not consider that such attendance implied approval of the system. His own attendance, as we learn from a contemporary, was something more than formal; he was rarely absent, morning or evening; and his behaviour was remarkable for reverence and devotion. With him, religion had nothing to do with discipline; and it was infinitely shocking to his pure and thoughtful mind to defile things heavenly with things earthly. The far too rigorous rules of attendance which were then in force had exasperated the undergraduates, and their behaviour, without being absolutely profane, was careless and irreverent. Talking was very prevalent, especially on surplice nights, when the service is choral. Thirlwall probably knew, from the friendly intercourse which he maintained with the younger members of the College, what their feelings were, and determined to do his best to get a system altered which produced such disastrous results. It must be remembered that at that time the Act of Uniformity prevented any shortening of the service. Whewell’s mind was a very different one. Without being a bigot, he had a profound respect for the existing order of things; shut his eyes to any defects it might have, even when they were pointed out to him; and regarded attempts to subvert it, or even to weaken it, as acts of profanity.

It will be readily conceived that these events rendered Cambridge no pleasant place of residence for Thirlwall, deprived of his occupation as a teacher and unsupported by any particularly strong force of liberal opinion in the University. Yet he had the courage to make the experiment of continuing to live in college. He went abroad for the Long Vacation of 1834, and returned at the beginning of the October term. In a few weeks, however, the course of his life was changed by an unexpected event. Lord Melbourne’s first Ministry broke up, and just as Lord Chancellor Brougham was regretting that Sedgwick and Thirlwall were the only clergymen who had deserved well of the Liberal party for whom he had been unable to provide, came the news of the death of a gentleman who was both canon of Norwich and rector of Kirby Underdale, a valuable but very secluded living in Yorkshire. He at once offered the canonry to Sedgwick and the rectory to Thirlwall. Both offers were accepted, we believe, without hesitation; and both appointments, though evidently made without regard to the special fitness of the persons selected, were thoroughly successful. Sedgwick threw himself into the duties of a cathedral dignitary with characteristic vigour; and Thirlwall, whose only experience of parochial work had been at Over, in Cambridgeshire, a small village without a parsonage, of which he was vicar for a few months in 1829, became a zealous and popular parish priest. We are told that ‘the recollection still survives of regular services with full and attentive congregations, including incomers from neighbouring villages; of the frequent visits to the village school; of the extempore prayers with his flock, of which the larger number were Dissenters; of the assiduous attentions to the sick and poor.’ And his old friend Hare, writing to Whewell in 1840, describes his work in his parish as ‘perfect,’ and holds up his example as ‘an encouragement’ to his correspondent to go and do likewise[56].

Thirlwall did not revisit Cambridge until 1842, when he stayed in Trinity College for two days during the installation of the Duke of Northumberland as Chancellor. Such an occasion, however, does not give much opportunity for judging of the real state of the University. He paid a similar visit in 1847, when Prince Albert was installed. After this he did not see Cambridge again until the spring of 1869, when he stayed at Trinity Lodge with his old friend Dr Thompson, and on Whitsunday, May 16, preached before the University in Great S. Mary’s Church. He has himself recorded that he was never so much pleased with the place since he went up as a freshman, and has given an amusing description of a leisurely stroll round the backs of the colleges and through part of the town[57], which, he might have added, he insisted upon taking without a companion. Those who conversed with him on that occasion remember that he was much struck by the changes which had taken place in the University since he had left it; and that he observed with pleasure the increased numbers of the undergraduates, and the movement and activity which seemed to reign everywhere.