Certainly there was much activity amongst Hammersmith Catholics. Within a few doors of my house there was a sisterhood active in collecting whatever they could of money, garments, and other benefits for the poor, and on the edge of Brook Green rose a handsome church, in which special revival services were held. I attended one of these, and heard a priest make earnest religious appeals to careless sinners.
There was a nunnery not far off, and from the abbess, through the medium of a relative, I received an invitation to witness the ceremony of taking the veil. As a spectacle, there was something about it pathetic and touching, but as an act of worship the whole struck me as altogether out of harmony with primitive Christianity. The relative who conveyed to me the invitation was the daughter of a Dissenting minister, a girl highly imaginative and poetical, who made some little stir in earlier life by a book entitled “From Oxford to Rome,” by “One that made the Journey.” She told me of a complimentary note on the subject from a High Church politician; and I found that she had been thrown a good deal in the way of Oxford “perverts,” as they were called. She became a decided convert, and related to me much of what she saw amongst her new friends. By her severe penances she broke down her health until she died, but not in the religion she had recently embraced. The faith of her childhood, in its simplicity, returned in her last days. I do not know that she made a formal renunciation of what she had lately embraced, but she desired no priestly ministrations, and fell back upon her Bible, and the truths she had accepted in former days. She joined in her father’s prayers by her bedside, and so went home to rest for ever with her Saviour, whom she loved amidst all her aberrations of controversial thought.
Soon after my resignation I paid a summer visit to my friend Mr. George Moore, of Whitehall, Cumberland, the well-known merchant prince. There I met Lord Justice Lush, his lady and daughter, Dr. Moffat, Canon Battersby, and Mr. Smithies, the “Workman’s Friend.” One day we had Bible readings in a baronial-looking hall; another day we had outdoor recreations for the villagers, when a select party dined at the mansion. In the evenings we were taken to places in the neighbourhood to attend Bible meetings. On Sunday we went to church in the morning and to chapel in the evening. Our host was in all his glory.
With the good judge I had much conversation, and heard something of his early life story. He had been on the point of settling in America when he was young, and went there more than once before he finally made a home in his own country. He was a beautiful character, an example of Christian politeness, general intelligence, and professional learning.
In closing notices of towns to which I have paid ministerial visits, let me mention Hastings, in which, from circumstances to be mentioned, I feel more than ordinary interest. I do not speak of the decisive battle on the field of Senlac, which ended the line of Saxon sovereigns and gave to England a Norman king, but of personal memories, somewhat unique in their connection. There was, many years ago, a venerable Dissenting minister in the town whose congregation was small, and it was thought by London friends and others, that a new and larger chapel should be built, and efforts made to revive the cause. I was invited to preach at the dedication of that building, and at the close of the sermon found my old fellow-student, the Rev. James Griffin, was present. He had just before, owing to impaired health, resigned an important pastorate at Manchester, and, as he seemed to be recovering strength, I suggested that this new chapel at Hastings might be a suitable sphere for resuming his ministry. The congregation invited him to become pastor, and he faithfully and successfully for many years discharged the duties of that office. It became after a time necessary to erect a still larger edifice, and, in connection with the opening services, I was for a second time invited to preach to the people. Mr. Griffin soon afterwards engaged in the erection of another chapel outside the town, and when the time for opening it approached he invited me to undertake that service. Thus a threefold cord of interest attached me to Nonconformist friends at Hastings. Moreover, repeated visits on the part of my dear wife and children increased my interest in the town, and the hospitality of my friends I remember with gratitude. My dear friend James Griffin still lives, adorning the doctrine he has successfully preached for more than half a century.
The autumnal meeting of the Congregational Union was in 1886 held at Norwich. My friend, the Rev. Edward White, was chairman, and I was invited to read in the old Meeting House, where I worshipped in my youth, a paper on the early history of Norfolk Congregationalism. There was a large gathering of ministers and other friends in the city, and, as in other cities and towns, Episcopalians received Nonconformists as their guests. It was my privilege to be entertained by the Bishop, with whom I had become acquainted while sojourning under the roof of his brother, Lord Chichester, at Stanmer Park. I was received and treated with the greatest kindness and comfort, and found this Episcopal home a beautiful example of Christian simplicity and devotion.
The Mayor of the city received members of the Union and other friends in St. Andrew’s Hall on the Monday evening; and one afternoon Mr. Colman, M.P. for Norwich, had a large garden-party in his pleasure grounds.
I availed myself of opportunities during the week for rambling about scenes of my boyhood, amidst many changes in architecture, manners and customs, including habits of religious life. The trade of the city had flowed into new channels; old families such as I knew in my boyhood were no more. New faces I saw everywhere, and pensive thoughts were naturally suggested when one traversed memories of seventy years. How different had been my lot from what it might have been! Church and Dissent did not stand in the same relations to each other as they had done once. There was more mutual charity, more, I believe and trust, of real religion. Certainly, Evangelicalism had made way in the Establishment, and was not regarded as it had been in days gone by.
I took a ramble outside the old city, and called on young friends; and so caught glimpses touching borders of auld lang syne.
It fell to my lot to occupy a bedroom in the palace exactly to my taste. It is described by Blomefield in his “History of Norwich.” Lined with carved wainscot brought from the demolished abbey of St. Bennet in the Holm, retaining still the arms of that abbey—of the Veres, and others, particularly those of Sir John Fastolff, their great benefactor. There were also busts of heroes and remarkable men and women, “brought hither by Bishop Rugg.” The place recalled images of old, and stories which had interested me in youth; if they did not people my dreams, they coloured my meditations.