In the beginning of August, Dr. Vicesimus Knox, Master of Tunbridge School, and late Fellow of St. John’s College, Oxford, having come to Brighton with his family, in pursuit of health, by sea-bathing, and a salutary change of air and scene, during the anniversary school vacation, hired a house in North Street, at the corner of Bond Street, now the property of Alderman Martin, where on Saturday the 10th, he received, quite unexpectedly, a note from the Vicar, the Rev. Thomas Hudson, to whom he was a perfect stranger, expressing his desire that the Doctor would gratify his congregation, as he politely expressed himself, with a sermon on the morrow. The Doctor shewed some reluctance to assent to the request, but some friends who were present, importuned him, and he wrote a reply expressing a compliance, and on the following morning he ascended to the pulpit, and took his text:—Philippians iv. 7.—“The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” “The sermon,” says the Doctor, [93] “was heard by a very large and very respectable congregation, in which were many of the military belonging to the Surrey regiment, quartered in Brighton. The utmost attention was paid to it. The military appeared to be particularly impressed, and highly satisfied. Expressions of approbation were heard, too emphatic for me to repeat. Mr. Hudson, the Vicar, who read prayers, came to my house, on purpose to thank me, in his own name, and that of his congregation. He mentioned the general satisfaction I had given; the many inquiries that had been made after my name by strangers; and expressed a hope, that I would preach once more, as he knew it was the wish of his parishioners. This, however, I declined at that time, and certainly had no intention to preach again at Brighton, though I had every reason to be pleased with my reception.”
On the following evening, Monday, August 12th, the birthday of the Prince of Wales, the Doctor was present at the Ball at the Castle Tavern, and partook of the supper which was given in honour of the occasion. Marked civility was shewn him from persons who knew him only from the sermon which had been so favourably received on the Sunday. The Vicar especially, paid him the greatest attention, and continued in his company nearly the whole of the evening, and in the course of it, renewed his request, that as his parishioners very much wished it, he would give him another sermon on the following Sunday. The Doctor’s reply was:—“I come here for recreation, after the fatigues of my daily avocations and my own parish church, and I do not wish to be interrupted by exertions of this kind, especially as I find my last sermon has excited so general an attention, and probably raised expectation too high. You mention the praises I have received; but I will not preach for the sake of praise. If you say it will serve you, if you wish to be absent, or if it is any relief to you, I will endeavour to prepare a sermon in the midst of the interruptions of this place, and will preach next Sunday, though I sincerely wish to decline it.”
The request was continued, and obtained a compliance.
The subject chosen was, “The prospect of perpetual and universal peace to be established on the principles of Christian philanthropy,” his text being, “Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, good-will towards men.” “I was led to the choice of this subject,” writes the Doctor, “from observing the extreme bitterness expressed, even in gay and good-humoured companies, against a great part of our fellow creatures; from the almost daily accounts in the newspapers of slaughtered thousands, and the eagerness with which war had been adopted by all the nations concerned, when negociation might have effected every desirable purpose, without expense, and without carnage. * * * * Had I even gone to the camp and discoursed, as a chaplain, on the same topic, it could not have been out of place. But every one who came to the church knew that he must hear peace, charity, good-will, forgiveness of enemies recommended, in hearing the lessons from the gospel. If my sermon was deemed ill-placed in recommending universal peace and universal good will in Brighton Church, what will men, who judge so, say of the gospel read there? what of the national liturgy, established by law as firmly as the national militia? * * * * I was heard in silence, and, if I can judge, [95] with great attention. I was not conscious that any part of the congregation was offended, nor did I surmise it till after the following incident. On going out of the church, a lady, a perfect stranger, accosted me and said, ‘I thank you for your sermon. I could have sat hours to have heard such with pleasure. But excuse me—I must tell you, that from what I have observed in the pews, among a certain description of persons, you have offended those, who, I fear, have as little relish for the doctrine of forgiveness as they seem to have of peace. Many, like myself, are highly pleased with every part of your discourse; but there are those who are angry indeed!’”
At the termination of the service, the Doctor and his family unmolested, returned to their residence, where they had a few friends to dine with them; and after dinner he attended the afternoon service, as, understanding that some of the officers were offended at his discourse, he was desirous of meeting them, to learn what had given them offence, that, before misrepresentation could take place, a full and amicable explanation might be given. He did not, however, meet with a single officer; and having heard the Curate, the Rev. J. Mossop, preach, he returned home to tea with his family, and afterwards took a walk on the Steine, still hoping to meet his offended hearers, that he might acknowledge his fault, if he had been in the wrong, and remove their mistake if they thought him so undeservedly; being desirous of a reconciliation. Many officers were there, but he did not recognise any of those who were at the church. From the inhabitants who observed him he received the utmost civility.
On his return home he received a letter from a stranger, who expressed a wish to distribute a number of copies of the sermon in a distant county, concluding his epistle: “A dissemination of such enlightening and convincing knowledge is only wanting to stop the effusion of human blood; for when mankind are well awakened, they will not permit the dignified human butchers, the insolent, unfeeling traffickers in blood, to lead them to destruction.—Sunday, Aug. 18.”
The Doctor, in his “Narrative,” says:—“I beg leave to mention as I proceed, that from the pulpit, where I must have had a pretty good view of the whole church, I saw very few officers; and of those few I knew not one even by name: I thought there were not twelve. Of common soldiers the number was also inconsiderable; I thought there were scarcely twenty, and these were not of the camp, but of the Surrey militia quartered in the town. There were, indeed, more of the same regiment in the porch or in the church-yard; but too remote from the pulpit to hear a syllable of sedition, if there had been any to hear. I mention the paucity of officers and privates for the following reason; the public has been taught by mistaken prints to believe that I was guilty of preaching peace and good-will before the whole camp, that the aisle was crowded with soldiers, and that all the officers of the camp attended. I appeal to the parishioners present, whether the number of military men, privates and officers included, was greater than I have conjectured. My sermon was not exclusively calculated for a congregation of persons in any particular profession. There was not a word addressed by an apostrophe, as I have heard it asserted, to the officers. I had no reason to suppose that any military men, but those of the Surrey militia quartered at Brighton, would be at the church. I thought, and I believe it was so, that divine service was performed by the chaplains in the camp, and that the soldiers of the camp would not be permitted to straggle to the town or the church, on a Sunday, during divine service. The public has been much deceived in the exaggerated accounts of my preaching to the whole army; but had the whole army been at the church, had it been allowed or been possible, I am certain they would have heard nothing from me, but what was authorized by the gospel, enforced by the law of man as well as of God, tending to promote their happiness in all events, and animating them to the discharge of every duty, on principles of humanity and Christianity. I expressly asserted, while I was deploring the calamities of war, that the conductors of war were often men of singular humanity and honour. I expressly commended the beautiful gradation of ranks in society. I enforced good order; I deprecated anarchy as much as despotism.”
On the Monday, Dr. Knox visited the Downs, where the army was assembled in review, and in the evening, as usual, he went on the Steine; but though, at both places, as he was afterwards informed, the sermon was a topic of conversation, no insult was offered, nor was any personal application made to him. Tuesday evening was the time when the offence of Sunday was to be avenged. A friend of the Doctor, having to return to London the next day, proposed that they and some of the Doctor’s family should go to the Theatre. The Doctor assented; and accordingly Mrs. Knox, Master Knox (aged about 14), and Miss Knox (12), accompanied them, the piece to be represented being the Agreeable Surprise. They occupied the right-hand side box, next to the stage box, where the Prince of Wales usually sat: but he was not there that evening. Soon after the curtain drew up, a few officers entered the opposite stage-box. But they had not been there five minutes, before their whole attention seemed fixed on the box where the Doctor and his party were seated. Other officers and several elderly ladies soon appeared in the same box; and they looked at the Doctor in a pointed manner, and then seemed to deliberate. Their attention appeared to be engrossed by the consultation, and they seldom turned to the players on the stage. There were several other officers interspersed in other boxes. Messages were sent to some of them, and they removed into the stage box. A man, whose looks were choleric, and who sat in the same box and on the same seat with Doctor Knox, was sent for, and he left his hat behind him, probably intending to return when he should be excluded. They frequently went in and out, and appeared extremely busy and anxious in concerting the plan of operations. This continued during the whole of the play. The children observed it, and told their father that they suspected some insult. Between the play and the entertainment, the following note, directed to the Doctor, was handed from behind them, to Mrs. Knox, who gave it to her husband. The son had seen one of the officers writing; and there is no doubt but he was composing this note, which was sent without a name, and couched as follows:—
“Your Discourse last Sunday was so offensive, that the gentlemen of this Theatre desire you will quit it immediately.”
He read the order, and, giving it to Mrs. Knox, rose, and addressing himself to the opposite boxes, which, however, were now nearly-empty, the military having accompanied their despatch, requested to know who had sent the impertinent paper without a name. He turned back to a phalanx of military men, who had now come round, and were drawn up behind the Doctor at the door of his box, and in the Lobby. The Doctor stept a little forward, and said:—“Ladies and gentlemen, I have this moment received an extraordinary paper, neither signed nor dated, containing a requisition that I should quit the Theatre immediately, on account of the sermon which I preached last Sunday morning in your parish church. I beg pardon for interrupting you; but under these circumstances, and surrounded, as you see I am, I humbly entreat the permission of the house, to ask aloud who sent me this note, and by what authority I am bound to obey it, in this place of public entertainment, where my family and myself have entitled ourselves to unmolested seats, by paying the price demanded at the door. We have interrupted nobody. Will you authorize the arbitrary expulsion of us all? for my family and friend will certainly follow me. I beg leave, besieged as you see me by a considerable number of men behind me, who are at this moment expressing their anger by opprobrious names, to enter into a short explanation with them, to ask the particulars of my offence in your presence, and to declare, that if anything advanced in my sermon gave personal offence, it was unintentional, and that I am concerned at it. If any one of these gentlemen will prove to your satisfaction that he is justly offended, I will immediately beg his pardon. I beg your pardon, who are totally unconcerned in this attack, for this singular interruption, which I trust I shall obtain from you, as men and Englishmen; when you have before your eyes a defenceless individual, in a situation so singular, as will, I hope, justify my present address to you.”