"I have observed before that the example and conversation of Mr. Blomfield, while I remained with him, gave an impulse to my mind towards the love of literary pursuits. I did not think, however, of exerting myself particularly in that way till the end of the first term, when I was persuaded by Mr. Monk, the Greek professor, now Protestant Bishop of Gloucester, to be a candidate for a university scholarship. Dr. Monk was four years senior to Mr. Blomfield, and I understood from him that he had been of great service to him in the same way, when at college, encouraging his exertions and studies. I was told that I passed this examination creditably, but I did not stand so high among the competitors as to make it desirable that I should repeat the attempt afterwards, and the only honours that I tried for were confined to Trinity College. I was thus stimulated during this time to more than common exertions; it gave me a disposition to study which continued through my time at Cambridge, and was the only good disposition which was encouraged in me. I have reason then to remember with gratitude those who helped me in this way; though it is a lamentable thing that, being there professedly as a student for the church, in what is the proper seminary for ecclesiastics of the Church of England, I cannot call to mind one word of advice given me by anyone among my superiors or companions to guard me against the terrible dangers with which I was surrounded of being entirely corrupted, or to dispose me towards some little care of my spiritual concerns.
"My studies I followed with great zeal all the time I was at Cambridge; but, as is generally the case there with those that aim at places in the public examinations, I managed them without proper distribution of time. By running through the journal I kept at the time I find that, when first I began to read hard, I have often sat without moving from my table and read the clock round, that is, from three or four in the afternoon to the same hour the next morning, for the sake of doing what was counted an extraordinary feat. There is no doubt that reading with regularity a smaller number of hours every day would be more available for the attainment of learning than these immoderate surfeits of study, as one may call them; I only interposed a few days of amusement, when hardly any work was done. In the long run, such a course as mine could not answer, for it was sure to hurt the health and prevent the attainment of the real end of all a young man's studies, which is, acquiring knowledge to be turned to account in after life. Few young men at Oxford or Cambridge, I suppose, have wisdom enough to calculate this in advance. The object which they aim at is present distinction, and outstripping their fellows in the race for college prizes; and, as far as my experience goes, a glut of reading, if the health does but stand it without breaking down, is the way to make the most of one's chance at a public examination.
"The time of my being at Cambridge is one so interesting to me in the recollection, that I cannot satisfy myself, when giving an account of my progress through life, without dwelling at some length upon it. My college course was not very long. At the time when I was at Cambridge, honorary degrees were conferred on the sons of noblemen at the end of two years' residence, by which they came to the enjoyment of the rank and all the privileges of a Master of Arts, which title was not to be attained, in the ordinary course, in less than six or seven years. And what shortens the college life much more is the extravagant length of the vacations; so that what is reckoned one year at Cambridge is not more than five months' actual residence in the University. Yet this is a most important and critical period, and the short two years during which I was an undergraduate at Cambridge were of immense importance in my destiny. How vast is the good, of which I have learned the loss, but which I might have gained, had I then known how to direct my views! On the other hand, how may I bless God for the quantity of evil from which I have been preserved, and how wonderful has been my preservation! When I remember how destitute I was of religion at this time, I must say that I have to wonder rather at my being preserved from so much evil, than at my having fallen into so much. And how can I bless God for his exceeding goodness of which I am now reminded, when I think how, against my own perverse will, against my foolish, I must say mad wishes, I was prevented by his Providence from being at this time irrevocably ruined and lost? What can I return to Him for this blessing? One principal intention in my present work is to record the sentiments of gratitude, however weak and most unworthy, with which I at least desire my soul to be inflamed, and which I hope will engage all the powers of my soul throughout eternity. Most gladly, if it were for His honour and for the edification of one soul which by the narrative might reap instruction, I would enter before all the world into a more detailed explanation of this my wonderful deliverance; but this I must not do, for I must not be the means that others, hitherto in the simplicity of holy ignorance, should be made acquainted with the dark iniquity of which the knowledge has once infected my own unhappy understanding. Be this enough to say on this point, which I was obliged to touch, lest it should seem unreasonable that I should speak of my case as one of most marvellous and almost unparalleled mercy, when the circumstances which I may now detail, and what are generally known among my most intimate companions, do not justify such feelings in the review of it.
"By the great mercy of God, I had provided for me a refuge and, as it were, a breathing time, between Eton and Cambridge. At Mr. Blomfield's, my progress in evil was checked, and I had time to prepare myself for the University with good resolutions, though I knew not what sort of trials I should meet with there, nor had I learnt how unavailing were my best resolutions to support me, while yet I had not wholly put my confidence in God's grace. The vacation which came between my leaving Dunton and going to Cambridge I spent chiefly in the Isle of Wight, and my soul was almost wholly occupied that summer about cricket. I never became a great cricketer myself; I had lost the best time for gaining the art while at Eton; but, this summer, what perseverance and diligence could do to make up for lost time, I think I did. Oh! that I might have the same degree of zeal now in serving the Church of God, and collecting and instructing a faithful flock, as I then had in seeking out, and encouraging and giving and procuring instruction for my troop of cricketers. The occupation of my mind on this subject was enough to drive away any ardent attention to religion as well as to study. I may say, in favour of this passion for cricket, that it was one of the pursuits which I took to at the recommendation of my mother. I remember generally that when anything in the way of amusement or serious occupation was suggested to me by her, or anything else but my own fancy, nothing more was required to make me have a distaste for it. Otherwise, how many useful accomplishments might I have gained which would now have been available to the great objects I have before me. My dear mother wished me to learn fencing when I was at Eton, and a good deal of time I spent, and a good deal of money must have been paid by my father to Mr. Angelo, the fencing-master who came to Eton. It might have been better for me to have gained perfection in this exercise, by which it is related that St. Francis of Sales acquired in part that elegance of manner and nobleness of carriage through which he gained so many souls to Christ. While other boys made fencing their amusement, I always would have it as a task, and of course gained nothing by it. At a later period, when we were at Naples, and I had a weakness in my eyes which made such an employment suitable, my mother would have had me learn music. She gave me a guitar, and would have paid for my lessons; but I could not take to it, and have thus lost the advantage which, since I have become a Catholic, I should have so much valued of understanding the science of music, seeing that the trifling knowledge I do possess is of so much use. There is the apology, then, for my cricket mania; that she proposed my taking to it in the summer I speak of. I was surprised to find myself willing to acquiesce in the suggestion. What I did take to I generally followed excessively, and she did not calculate on the violence with which I followed up this. I got into very little bad company by means of this pursuit, and perhaps, on the whole, I rather gained than lost by it. It was manly and healthful, and though, when in the heat of it, I thought it almost impossible I should ever give it up, yet when I took Orders I did give it up; and if it was in itself of no use, I hope that one sacrifice, among the many I was obliged to make and, thank God, did willingly make to more important objects, it was not without value. Thus much for my cricketing; I mention it here as being the only distinct cause to which I can attribute my losing before I went to Cambridge the habits of serious thought and of regular prayer, which I have observed I regained in a good degree towards the latter part of my Dunton time.
"I nevertheless was full of good purposes. I desired and was resolved to keep myself from giving countenance to immorality as well as practising it, though after having once given way at Eton, I hardly ever dared to say a word or even to give a look in disapproval of whatever might be said or done before me by bold profligates. I could not bear to appear out of the fashion; so that when other boys at Eton used to talk of the balls and gay parties which they had been to in their holidays, I was quite ashamed, when asked what I had done, to say that I had been to no balls; for to my mother I am greatly indebted for her wise conduct in this respect, that she did not, as was done by others, make us men before our time. So, although I detested and from my heart condemned the fashionable immoralities of the young men with whom I came to be associated about the time of my going to Cambridge, I hardly dared declare my mind, except sometimes, almost in confidence, to one who seemed to be like myself. Oh! what good might I have done had I then known the value of God's grace, and, despising the world, boldly stood up for the cause of virtue, at the same time continuing to be gay and cheerful with my companions, and taking a leading part in all innocent and manly diversions, and in the objects of honourable emulation which were set before me and my fellows. I know how much I might have done by supporting others, weak like myself, by acting at this time as I ought to have done, by what I felt myself on one or two occasions when such support was given me. I thank God that the memory of my brother Robert, who died in 1830, commanding the Madagascar, near Alexandria, now rises before me to claim my grateful acknowledgment as having twice given me such help at a critical time. Never was a man more calculated than he to get on, as it is said, in the world. He was brave and enterprising, and skilled in all that might make him distinguished in his profession; at the same time he was most eager in the pursuit of field sports and manly amusements; and in society was one of the most agreeable and popular men of his day. Once I remember complaining to him that I was ashamed of having nothing to say before some ladies about balls, when I was about sixteen. 'What a wretched false shame is that!' said he to me. From that time I became more ashamed of my shame than I had been before of my want of fashion. More important yet was the service he did me when he was about to go on one of his cruises as commander of the Ganymede. I was talking with him, the last evening before he left London, about the Easter before I went to Cambridge. He knew well what I should be exposed to better than I did and charged me to take care never to laugh or look pleased when I was forced to hear immoral conversation. What rare advice was this from the mouth of a gay, gallant young officer; and if there were more of his character who were not ashamed to give it to their young brothers and friends, how many might be saved, who are now lost, because they do not see one example to show how a manly, fashionable character can be maintained with strict morality and modesty. These few words from him were of infinite service to me. They made deep impression on me at the time I heard them, and the resolution which I then made continued with me till after I had been some time at Cambridge, when the battle I had to bear against the universal fashion of iniquity once more, as formerly, at Eton, proved too strong for me, and I again gave way. My fall now was gradual. I began with the resolution to avoid all expenses which would embarrass me with debts, and to keep from several fashionable amusements which would engage too much time. For awhile, on this account, I would not play at cards; but in less than half-a-year this determination failed, and I wasted many an evening at whist of my short college life. I soon grew careless, too, about my expenses, and should have been involved in great embarrassments, had it not been for my brother's (Lord Althorp's) generosity, who, hearing from me at the end of my first year that I was in debt, gave me more than enough to clear it all away; and, thus having enabled me to set my affairs again in order, was the means of saving me from ever afterwards going beyond my means extravagantly. I might, however, have given way in some such resolutions as not playing at cards; I might have entered into some expenses which I shunned at first, without losing my peace of mind, and again defiling my conscience, of which the good condition was partly restored; but these were not the crying evils of the place. In the set with which I was now associated in the University, gambling was not at that time much practised, and not at all insisted on. There were occasional drunken parties, and it was with difficulty that I kept out of them; but the system of violently forcing people to drink, as well at the Universities as throughout genteel society in England, had fallen off before my time. There were some sets where drinking was practised at Cambridge much more excessively than in what called itself the best set of all. I could not help, without offending the laws of society, being present at a considerable number of dinners and suppers where men drank immoderately, but I was permitted to keep myself sober without much difficulty; one or two gave me countenance thus far, though any intimation of disapproving of what others did, on religious or moral grounds, I felt would not have been anyways tolerated; and so I ventured not. Swearing was among them rather unfashionable than not. Some undergraduates were notorious for profane and impious language; and this was excused, and tolerated, and made fun of, but it was not common, and many among us made no difficulty of condemning it. I therefore never fell into this habit. The crying, universal, and most frightful evil of the place was open immorality. There was at Cambridge, in my time, a religious set, who were sometimes called Simeonites, from Mr. Simeon, one of the great leaders and promoters of the Evangelical party in these latter days, who was minister of one of the small churches in Cambridge, and for many years attracted into his influence a certain number of young men. Among these open vice was not countenanced; but not so the set to which I principally belonged, and these were as distinct as if they had not belonged to the same University. I was introduced to some few of these, and rather valued myself on having an acquaintance with them, as well as with many of the purely reading men; and my fashionable friends did not altogether object to it, though I was generally a little ashamed at being seen with any of them, and avoided any frequent intercourse with them. I have wondered since that, if it were only from mere curiosity, I should never once have gone to hear Simeon preach, but so it was. I understood nothing whatever of what is in England called Evangelical religion. Indeed, I thought nothing of religion; had I paid any attention to it at this time, I could hardly have escaped seeing how desperate was the course which I was following, and I might perhaps have taken a strong resolution, and have joined the serious party at once; but, very likely, I should have found the power of fashion at that time too great, and, by knowing more of religion, should only have made my conscience more guilty; and so I believe it may be better that none ever spoke to me on the subject all the time. I repeat it, that in our set, whatever other deviation from the most established fashion was tolerated, any maintenance of chastity or modesty was altogether proscribed. It was not long, then, before I found myself beat out of the position I endeavoured to maintain. During the first term I stood my ground rather better. One reason for this was, that among what were called the freshmen—that is, those who entered with me on my college life, there were several who were not initiated in vicious practices. These, remaining for a time more or less in their simplicity, gave me some countenance in not going at once in the way of the veteran professors of evil. But as I saw some of them grow by degrees shameless and bold, and soon beginning to join their older brethren in upbraiding my weakness and folly for not being like the rest, I found all my resolution failing, and, alas! many a deliberation did I take whether I should not at length enter the same way with them. I was still withheld, though it was not the fear of God which restrained me. I knew that my entering a course of open profligacy would not be tolerated by my parents. I had a character for steadiness among the tutors and fellows of the college, which I was ashamed to lose; though even before them I found it sometimes to answer best not to appear different from other young men. Besides, as I had resisted the first period of attacks, and established among my companions a kind of character of my own, I felt that even they would be astonished if I at last declared myself as one of their sort. I could not bear the thought of their triumph, and the horrid congratulations with which I should be greeted, if once I was found going along with them in open feats of iniquity. Oh! how grievous is the reflection that by such motives as these I was restrained. I was longing often to be like them. I could not bear the taunts which were sometimes made at me. Here again some of the old Etonians perhaps would bring up the remembrance of my ancient propensity to blush, and would take pleasure in putting me again to confusion. Occasionally, by strange interpositions of Divine Providence, I was hindered from accomplishing purposes of evil which I had, in a sort of desperation, resolved by myself to perpetrate, by way of being decided one way or other, like a man on the brink of a precipice determining to throw himself down in order to escape the uneasy apprehension of his danger. One way or another I was restrained, so that it has afterwards appeared to me as if I had but barely stopped short of taking the last decisive steps by which I might be irrevocably ranked among the reprobate. I never thought at the time of this danger, otherwise I could hardly have borne my existence; but, as it was, my mind at times was gloomy and miserable in the extreme. To make me yet more so, at the end of my first year I began to be afflicted with bilious attacks, arising, perhaps, from my imprudent management in regard to study, to diet, and to hours; and these occasioned exceeding depression of spirits, under which I used to fancy myself the most unhappy of creatures. I had no knowledge of the power of religion to set me free, and make me superior to all external sensible causes of depression, and I knew no better than to give myself up to my low feelings when they came upon me, till some distraction removed them, or till the fit passed away of itself. Many times at Cambridge, in order to hold up my head in a noisy company after dinner, I drank wine to raise my spirits, though not to great excess, yet enough to teach me by experience how mistaken is the calculation of those who, when in sorrow, seek to cheer themselves in that way, or in any way but by having recourse to God by prayer and acts of resignation. I remember well once being told by a good aunt of mine, that it was quite wrong to give way to my depression, about which I one day complained to her, and that religion would surely cure it; but the time was not come for me to understand this truth, and I took no notice of her words.
"In the meantime I continued zealous about my studies. I did not stop to ask cui bono was I working in them. Had I seen how utterly vain was a first-class place or a Trinity prize-book, which I had set before me as the object of my labours, I should have found but little consolation and refreshment to my melancholy reflections in these pursuits. On the contrary, I should only have pined away with a more complete sense of the truth of the Wise man's sentence which Almighty God was teaching me in His own way, and in His own good time: 'Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity' but to serve Thee only. I do not mean that if rightly followed, such academical honours are worth nothing. I wish I had followed them more prudently and effectually. They were the objects set before me by my superiors at the time, and I should say to another in my place that he should do his best to gain the highest place in a spirit of obedience, and for the honour of God, to whom we owe all the credit and influence in the world which, by just and honourable exertions, we can gain. In recollecting, therefore, how I exerted myself, and succeeded in these attempts, I am dwelling on one of the most happy points of view which that part of my life suggests to me; for though I did not do this as I ought, yet I was doing what I ought, and by doing so was preserved from much evil, and God knows how far the creditable footing I gained at Cambridge in the studies of the place may yet be available for a good end."
It is hard to believe young Spencer was so utterly devoid of religion as he here describes himself to be; we draw a more favourable inference from a journal he kept at the time. Noticing the death of the Princess Charlotte, he says: "It appears to be the greatest calamity that could have befallen us in public, and it is a deplorable event in a private point of view. It must be ascribed to the interposition of Providence, which must have some end in view beyond our comprehension." He speaks of the death of Mrs. Blomfield thus—"It is for her a happy event, after a life so well spent as hers has been." A few pages further on he has these words about the death of another friend of his. "I was extremely shocked to-day at hearing that James Hornby died last Friday of apoplexy. It was but a short time past that I was corresponding with him about the death of Mrs. Blomfield; and little he or I thought that he would be the next to go. The last year and a half I stayed at Eton I lived in the greatest intimacy with him, which had afterwards fallen away a little; but he was very clever and promising, and I always was fond of him. It must be a wise dispensation of Providence, and may be intended as a warning to us, in addition to those we have lately had in the deaths of Maitland and Dundas. God grant it may be an effectual one!"
These are not the spontaneous expressions of one altogether a stranger to piety, though they may very well be put down as the transient vibration of chords that had long lain still in his heart, and which these rude shocks must have touched and made audibly heard once more. This conclusion is more in accordance with other remarks found scattered here and there in the same journal. He criticises sermons and seems to like none; he is regular at chapel and puts on his surplice on the days appointed; but he refuses to take the sacrament for no conceivable reason but that he does not care about it, and hears it is administered unbecomingly. He is shrewd and considerate in his remarks upon persons and things; yet there is scarcely a line of scandal or uncharitableness in the whole closely written volume. When he records a drunken fit or a row, he suppresses the names of the rioters; and if he says a sharp word about a person in one page, he makes ample amends for it in many pages afterwards; by showing how mistaken he was at first, and how agreeable it was to him to change his opinion upon a longer acquaintance. This might not appear very high praise; but let us take notice of his age and circumstances, and then perhaps it may have its value. He was a young man, just turned eighteen; he had been brought up in splendour at home, and in a poisonous atmosphere at school. That he was not the vilest of the vile is to be wondered at more than that he preserved as much goodness as he did. Where is the young man, of even excellent training, who will be able to contend, unaided and taunted, against a whole college of the finest youth of any country? His motives may be beneath a Christian's standard, but the fact that with this weak armour, the bare shadow of what it might be, he made such noble resistance and passed almost unscathed through the furnace into which he was cast, only shows what he would have done had he been imbued with the teachings of a higher order. The very human respect and worldly considerations that succeeded in keeping him from vice, acquire a respectability and a status in the catalogue of preservatives from the fact of their being successful in his case. His was a fine mind, and one is moved to tears at seeing this noble material for sanctity thus tossed about and buffeted by a herd of capricious companions who could not see its beauty. Let us take up any young man's journal of his age and read some pages of it, what shall we find? Jokes played upon green freshmen, tricks for outdoing proctors, records of follies, or perchance pompous unreality put on to conceal all these or worse. His diary is the generous utterance of a noble mind; it is candid, true, conscientious, and puts a failing and a perfection of the writer side by side. It is no wonder that he was loved and courted, and that his companions had acquired an esteem for him in college, which years and toils have not succeeded in lessening. His keen grief at the deficiencies of his college life only shows to what height of sanctity he had reached, when what another might boast of wrung from him these lamentations.