On September 27th my wife and I, by way of keeping the twenty-second anniversary of our wedding, had taken a walk together as far as Hendon, but after spending some time pleasantly there, we found the rest of our pleasure marred by rumours of approaching trouble—rumours too well confirmed on the following day.
“September 28th.—The newspapers this morning are full of the most absurd statements as to the Sunday duties’ measure, which, in several, is violently attacked as a desecration of the Sabbath, and so on. The Herald and the Record profess to give very circumstantial statements of what I have said and done in the matter, but these are pure inventions. The clerks in the Inland Office have signed a memorial to the Postmaster-General, remonstrating against the measure, as though it were intended to require their attendance on a Sunday, and expressing a pious horror of so doing. The facts being that some who have signed the memorial already attend throughout the day, while the additional duties will be so arranged as to leave the clerks at liberty from ten till five; few will be wanted, and those are to be volunteers. A deputation of these fellows has been to the Bishop of London [Dr. Blomfield], and it is said to the Lord Mayor also; both of whom have taken up their case. I fear the whole proceeding is another manifestation of that insubordination and desire to thwart my plans which unquestionably exist. . . . Wrote to the Postmaster-General, who left London yesterday morning for Portumna, stating how matters stood, and made arrangements with Tilley [the assistant-secretary] for the immediate issue of the notices to the public, as the most effectual means of allaying the storm. They will appear in the papers to-morrow morning, and will be distributed all over the kingdom by to-morrow night’s mails. A contradiction from authority which I sent appears in the evening papers.”
The statement that the Lord Mayor had proceeded in this questionable manner proved to be untrue, but of the Bishop’s part in the matter there was no doubt. I could not but think it strange that one who had himself to exercise authority and maintain discipline should feel warranted, on an ex-parte statement, without even ascertaining whether this extraordinary appeal had been preceded by proper application to the proper authority, should feel warranted, I say, to give the sanction of his high authority to a proceeding which, in the case of his own clergy, he would justly have regarded as irregular and insubordinate.
As usual in difficulties, I sought aid from my own family:—
“September 29th.—Matthew having fortunately returned home, I have the advantage of his advice and assistance. We went to the office together, and in the course of the day were joined by Arthur. The contradiction and notice have had a good effect, but the excitement has by no means subsided. The Times has a leader written evidently by some one who has seen my minute (probably at the Treasury), partly defending, partly attacking the plan. . . . Strange enough, there is an able and earnest defence in the Morning Post. Sent a confidential letter to the editor of the Times, supplying the information which he so sadly lacks, and wrote again to the Postmaster-General. The Lord Mayor has called a meeting for Wednesday.”
“October 1st.—Went to the Treasury. Hayter treats the opposition to the new arrangement of Sunday duties as a matter of no importance. I think he is mistaken. I advise the publication of the minutes on the subject. He will consult with the Chancellor of the Exchequer.”
In an able article which appeared in the Times about six months later, and which is quoted in its proper place, the delusion of the day is justly compared to the infatuation which, two hundred years ago, overspread England, led to such fearful injustice, and produced so much unmerited suffering, from the calumnious breathings of so coarse a miscreant as Titus Oates. Doubtless two centuries had not passed away for nothing; a great amelioration of manners had taken place, both in deceivers and in deceived; but, great as was the difference in degree, the present movement was in kind the same thing again. History once more repeated itself. Only let the accusation be monstrous enough, the asseveration sufficiently bold, and the invention of circumstances tolerably plausible, there is still a large fraction of the public to whom disproof is for a time impossible of reception; the mist of error so entirely blinding that the most glaring correctives passed unnoticed—nay, unseen; while there is another class, perhaps almost equally large, which hides its better knowledge, overawed by general prejudice; so that while denunciation is clamorous and confident, defence is but slow, feeble, and timorous.
“Same day.—Mr. ——, M.P. for ——, called in consequence of the note from Matthew. He says that he was about to engage actively in the opposition, not knowing that the measure was mine; that he shall now do no more than is necessary to satisfy his constituents, but that he must go with the stream. The Methodists, he says, are organising an opposition throughout London, and all the metropolitan members must join in it. Showed him in confidence my minute. He strongly advises its immediate publication.”
“October 2nd.—Matthew and I went early to Mr. Hayter’s house to put him in possession of the information afforded by Mr. ——, keeping back the name of our informant, and to press for the publication of the minute. He still thinks lightly of the matter, but he will speak to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who comes to town to-day to attend a Cabinet Council to decide, as H. says, ‘whether we shall go to war with Russia.’”
We afterwards called together on an old and valued friend in the City, hoping that we might rely on him, as one frequently taking part in public affairs, to speak in defence of the measure at the meeting convened by the Lord Mayor.