Dr. Doddridge was a special friend of Mr. Coward’s, and had under his care several ministerial candidates, supported by that gentleman. According to tradition, the merchant was very punctual, the minister less so; and when the former invited the latter to dinner, if he did not come exactly at the hour, the footman was ordered not to admit him. A gentleman who lived opposite was aware of this peculiarity, and his footman arranged with Mr. Coward’s footman, that when Dr. Doddridge had been invited to dinner, mention should be made of it to the servant on the other side the road, that a dinner might be prepared for his reverence there. Other curious stories were told of our founder, which I have forgotten. The perpetuation of Dr. Doddridge’s academy in different places, and under different forms, led to a transfer of the institution from Wymondley in Hertfordshire to Torrington Square, London, where, in association with London University College, it existed at the time of my accession to the trusteeship. For about two years I assisted in conducting the business of Coward College, as a separate institution. Then came a change. There were at the time three independent academies, as they were then called, in London and the neighbourhood—Homerton, Highbury and Coward. There were three sets of tutors, three boards of administration, three distinct buildings, and three distinct sources of expense. Previous attempts to accomplish the union of these institutions had failed; but at the time to which I now refer, an opportunity arrived for accomplishing the union. After conferences between “Heads of Houses” for some months, it was determined to sell the three buildings, then occupied by the students, and to erect one large new edifice, where they might be instructed together. The erection of New College St. John’s Wood, was the result. In the negotiations connected with this change, Dr., afterwards Sir William, Smith zealously co-operated with the Coward trustees. My dear old friend, the Rev. William Walford, took a great interest in the accomplishment of this business, but he died before it was completely effected.
He spent his last days in writing an autobiography, and after his death I found it was written in letters addressed to myself, with a request that I would edit the publication. This I did with a melancholy satisfaction. He had suffered acutely from mental depression, and the malady returned with violence shortly before his death. My last visits were most painful. He refused all consolation, and passed away under a cloud, like that which attended the sunset of Cowper. There were gleams of light, followed by dense darkness. Then he sank into silence, if not torpor. Days and nights rolled on, so different from their “tranquil gliding” which he described in his letters; but it was the happy confidence of his friends, notwithstanding his own fears, that the angry billow, no less than the gentle wave, was bearing the weather-beaten barque to the celestial shore. He died on June 22nd, 1850. The poor body looked like a wreck, but faith could see at rest the soul which had such hard work to pilot the vessel beyond reach of storms. A post-mortem examination proved that his depression arose from the condition of the brain. He was a good Greek scholar, and delighted in reading Plato.
CHAPTER VI
1850–1854
The year 1850 opened with a storm of religious excitement, owing to a division of England by Papal authority into Roman dioceses, at the suggestion of Dr. Wiseman. It came to be called “The Papal Aggression.” Some thought more was made of it, at the time, than circumstances warranted; but, looked at through the medium of history, it seemed to aim at a territorial authority over England, inconsistent with our repudiation of Papal supremacy. The way in which it was taken up by some good people was not wise, and there was an anti-popish commotion amongst some of my friends—a few only. The commotion was unreasonable, but was overruled for good, as the incident led some Protestants to look into their professed principles, which doubtless, in our country, lie at the basis of civil and religious liberty.
From one end of the island to the other, Nonconformists as well as Churchmen took an opportunity for expressing attachment to the Reformation. In two ways I became connected with what went on. The Presbyterian, Congregational, and Baptist ministers of London, representing the three denominations, resolved, in common with other ecclesiastical bodies, to approach Her Majesty with a protest against “Papal Aggression.” The three denominations—like Convocation and certain English corporations—have a right of presenting addresses to the Sovereign; and on this occasion, the audience for accepting the addresses, was appointed to be at Windsor Castle. When the ceremony in the Royal Closet for receiving representatives of the three denominations was over, we were invited to lunch in the equerry’s apartment. Covers were laid for two or three gentlemen, in addition to our party. “Pray, can you tell me their names?” I whispered to one of the servants, who, from my previous residence in the town, happened to know me. He could not say, and at the same moment the strangers, who proved to be Roman Catholic noblemen, felt a like curiosity to know who we were. I proceeded to explain the origin of the three denominations, which was quite a revelation to the gentlemen; who informed us that they had just presented a loyal address from 250,000 Catholics. They proceeded to say, that English Protestants had quite misapprehended the meaning of recent arrangements; and, after receiving a courteous explanation, we sat down with them, and had a pleasant chat.
At that time I delivered at Kensington a short series of discourses on the Roman Catholic controversy. I went over some of the main points in that controversy, avoiding misrepresentation and uncharitableness. I was not violent enough to please some ultra-Protestants, but I had the gratification of hearing, that two young Catholics ultimately became Protestants, and were helped by the lectures. I have met in the course of my life with several members of the Romish Church, who have appeared to me estimable characters. I had in my congregation a young lady, one of a family which ranked a Cardinal amongst its members, and whose mother remained a Catholic; in her dying illness she clung to Christ as her Saviour, saying, in the words of Solomon’s Song: “I held Him, and would not let Him go.”
In the same year, as I have said, the Palace of Glass was opened; and, being a Kensington resident, I had opportunities of watching the edifice rising out of the earth as a beautiful exhalation. On moonlight nights, in the previous winter, how often, on my way home, it revealed itself, amidst floating mists, as a kind of ethereal structure!
There was a moral atmosphere created by the enterprise, which those who do not recollect it are unable to appreciate. It inspired thousands of people with expressions of charity and goodwill. The opening day can never be forgotten by those who witnessed it. The Times newspaper had a leader, which made one feel that a new era in history had arrived; that war and strife were approaching an end, and a millennial age of goodwill had dawned upon mankind. When, that day, we saw crowds, not jostling and pushing against each other; for almost every unit of the mass seemed willing to make way for a neighbour; when we witnessed the opening service, and beheld the royal procession moving through the stupendous aisles,—representatives of “all people that on earth do dwell,”—those present seemed to feel as they never did before. As the poet Montgomery conversed with me on the subject, he remarked that, looking down from the galleries upon the throng which passed before his eyes, it “reminded him of flowing waters gently gurgling through some broad channel.” The people, thronging here and there round corners, seemed like eddies in a river with lofty banks.
In the Exhibition year efforts were made for the religious improvement of the people. The Press was in different ways employed for this purpose; and amongst other methods there appeared, as distinctively characteristic, a series of evangelical discourses in Exeter Hall. They attracted crowded audiences. The sermons were carefully reported and widely circulated. About the same time several similar methods were employed for the promotion of religion; services were held in theatres and other places of amusement. Having been engaged in these efforts, I can testify to the crowds gathered together, and the general decorum of their behaviour. Some to whom these buildings belonged took an interest in the proceedings, as I knew from conversation with dramatic managers, who expressed interest in the addresses delivered. Afterwards, services were planned to be conducted by Episcopal clergymen in Exeter Hall, but the plan was frustrated by opposition of parochial authority. After this, Dissenters undertook to supply the lack of service, and the first Sunday night, an Independent minister officiated, reading parts of the Liturgy in the Book of Common Prayer, and an English nobleman acted as clerk, leading the responses.
The same year (1851) it fell to my lot at the autumnal meeting of the Congregational Union to read a memorial paper on Dr. Doddridge, who had died just a hundred years before, and had been pastor and Divinity Professor in Northampton, where the assembly met. We occupied the old meeting-house in which he preached; there in the vestry stood the chair in which he sat. From the pulpit which had been his, the centenary tribute to his memory was delivered. Mr. Bull, of Newport Pagnell, presented the original MS. of a funeral sermon which the doctor preached for his little daughter, partly written upon her coffin. A common sympathy, amidst deathlike silence, pervaded the audience, as if the divine who was commemorated had only just left the world, and we had assembled to honour his remains. The genius loci of the place, and traditions of the good man, passed away so long before, contributed to the occasion more impressiveness than it derived from other circumstances.