Amongst the families connected with the Church during Dr. Leifchild’s pastorate, two in particular may be mentioned, noteworthy on their own account, and whom I can describe from personal knowledge.
The Talfourds attended for some years. The mother was one of those saintly women who when once seen can never be forgotten. She belonged to the class of matrons immortalized by Solomon. “The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her.” “She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.” All this is eminently true of Mrs. Talfourd; and there she used to sit and listen to her pastor in one of the square green pews at Hornton Street, with her “children about her”; one of whom, when a matron and mother, was, during my own ministry, a comfort and a joy. The most distinguished of her sons—others became distinguished in other ways—was Mr. Justice Talfourd, who for some time not only adorned the judicial bench, but before doing so made a mark on literature and politics, by authorship and eloquence. The good old lady told me of his boyish days, of his school-life at Mill Hill; read to me one of his letters, in which he spoke of his school-fellows, especially “one Hamilton,” who joined a party that met for worship privately, and was “very flowery in his prayers.” This Hamilton was no other than the subsequently famous Nonconformist minister of Leeds. The young barrister wrote an article on pulpit oratory, in which he fully described the preacher to whom he listened on Sundays:—
“Mr. Leifchild is one of those who feels ‘the future in the instant.’ He has almost as intense a consciousness of the world to come as he has of the visible objects around him. He speaks not only as believing, but as seeing that which is invisible.
“His manner of level speaking is slovenly, sometimes bordering on the familiar; but when he is aroused he pours forth a torrent of voice and energy, and sustains it without intermission to the end. His whole soul seems thrown into every word. He does not stop to explain his expressions, or give all his qualifications to his doctrines which he might think requisite in a confession of faith, but gives full vent to the predominant feeling, and allows no other to check its course, which in every kind of oratory is wise. He thus occasionally, it is true, rushes headlong against some tremendous stumbling-block, or approaches that fine division where the pious borders on the profane. But, on the whole, the greatest effect is produced by this abandonment to the honest impulse of the season.”
“I remember,” says Mr. Leifchild, “that my father told me, upon his return from the Serjeant’s house in Russell Square, where he had been dining, that this then well-known orator of the law courts had relaxed and refreshed himself by referring to the old Kensington days, and the old chapel, and singularly enough, the old hymns of Dr. Watts, which he had once rather disdained. ‘Do you remember,’ said he to my father, ‘how we used to sing that hymn—one of Watts’s best—
“When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count my loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride”?
And do you remember how heartily we used to join in the last verse:
“Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so Divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.”’?”
Another family, less known to fame, was Mrs. Bergne, of Brompton Row, and her two sons. The eldest of them was John Bergne, for fifty years clerk in the Foreign Office, and during the latter part of the time superintendent of the French department,—an office which brought him into association with many foreign and home celebrities. A man of high culture, great conversational power and exuberant wit, he was nevertheless decidedly religious, and remained steadfast in his nonconformity to the end of life. He was a most attentive hearer, and wrote down many of his pastor’s sermons, chiefly from memory. He carefully preserved two quarto volumes filled with a course of lectures on “The Acts,” which I read when I was young, and they gave me a good idea of the preaching then heard at Hornton Street. A younger son, Samuel, entered the ministry during Dr. Vaughan’s pastorate, and with him, as well as his brother John, I enjoyed a lifelong friendship most intimate, most endeared. He became well known as pastor of the Poultry Chapel, and as Secretary of the British and Foreign Bible Society. The family lived at Brompton, but year after year made their way morning and evening to Kensington Chapel; and with them I may couple the family of the Gainsfords, who resided in Piccadilly. Such circumstances show the distances which in those days people walked to the house of God. It is remarkable how many branches of old Nonconformist families included in our history have since risen to eminence. Here I may mention Dr. Bruce, the learned archæologist in Newcastle, who married Miss Gainsford; also their son, the present Recorder of Bradford.
Another family may also be mentioned, though not I believe members of the Church, as were most of those whom I have just recorded:—
“Amongst the attendants on his ministry (says Mr. John Leifchild, speaking of his father) were Lord and Lady Molesworth. They had derived benefit from his pulpit instruction, and became his attached friends. He often referred in particular to the mother, Lady Molesworth, a truly pious elderly lady, who had apartments in Kensington Palace. She had two strong reasons for her attachment to my father’s ministry: one being the benefit which she herself had obtained from it; and the other being the influence which it had exercised on a favourite son—Lord Molesworth. Lord Molesworth, her younger son, had heard Mr. Leifchild at Hornton Street Chapel, and though very wild and thoughtless at that time, was so affected by what he heard as to alter his mode of life. Another, and the elder son, was then in India, where, being laid on a sick bed, he remembered the psalms which his father, Viscount Molesworth, had read and expounded when he was a child at home, showing their reference to the Messiah, and thus confirming the truth of Scripture. I believe he came home, and it was then that he also attended the ministry at Hornton Street Chapel. He now became devoted and useful; and having obtained an appointment in Ceylon, he repaired thither, and there continued his usefulness by distributing religious publications. His father dying, he succeeded to the title, and having acquired property in Ceylon, he determined to return home, assist at the chapel, and spend the remainder of his days with his aged mother. He notified to his mother the time of his embarkation, and she, calculating the length of the voyage, expected at a certain day to enfold her son in her embrace. She was disappointed, and the reason soon appeared in the reception of the melancholy intelligence that the vessel in which he had trusted himself, his wife, and all his acquisitions, had gone down at sea, and every life had been lost. ‘I feared,’ says my father, ‘on hearing the sad news, to call upon her; but on doing so I found her calm. And with erect and majestic figure, looking at me, she said: “Dear pastor, God sustains me. I utter not a murmuring word. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord.”’”