Pen and ink sketches of poets, preachers, and politicians

Front matter

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CORNELL

UNIVERSITY

Chapter I. Recollections Of Robert Hall

Mr. Hall's popularity — Lord Brougham and Sir James Mackintosh — Hall in the pulpit — Anecdotes — His sufferings and death — Appearance in his coffin ... p. 1

CHAPTER n.

JOHN FOSTER AND HIS BRISTOL CONTEMPORARIES.

Mr. Foster's early history — His personal appearance— A pulpit sketch — Visit to Mr. Foster ; his tastes and prejudices ; his lonely death — Sl^etches of Rev. Wm. Thorpe, Thomas Roberts, and Dr. Carpenter 25

CHAPTER m.

A DAY WITH HANNAH MORE.

Visit to Barley Wood — Locke's birth-place — Miss Martha More — Sketch of Hannah More — Anecdote of Mrs. Garrick — Dr. Aiken and Mrs. Barbauld .53

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER IV.

PORTRAITS IN PADDY LAND AND A TRANSATLANTIC FATHER MATHEW.

A mail steamer and its passengers — The O'Connells ; Sheil ; Feargus O'Connor — An Irish ride — Sketch of Father Mathew — Mr. Gough — Touching anecdotes — Sketch of the Father Mathew of America p. 70

CHAPTER V.

A MEMORY OF MRS. HEMANS.

Sketch of Dr. Raffles — Wavertree — Miss Jewshury — Mrs. Hemans ; her " poetic mint ;" habits of composition — Wavertree re- visited 94

CHAPTER VI.

SKETCHES OF CHURCHMEN AND A CHANCELLOR.

Oxford — Sketch of Rev. George Crabbe — Anecdote of Legh Richmond — A scene in Oxford; the Chancellor-Duke, Keble, Milman, and Buckland — Sketch of Dr. Pusey . 107

CHAPTER VII.

REMINISCENCES OF WORDSWORTH, COLERIDGE, AND CHARLES LAMB.

Visit to Rydal Mount — Wordsworth and Jeffrey — The poet's sister — ^Wordsworth and Blackwood — Personal appearance of Coleridge ; his conversational eloquence — Charles Lamb and his sister — Remarks 122

CONTENTS. Xi

CHAPTER Vin.

PERSONAL NOTICES OF SHELLEY AND HAZLITT,

Singular introduction to Percy B. Shelley ; his unbounded philanthropy — Reflections on his genius — William Hazlitt; his esteem for Jeffrey — Hazlitt and Napoleon — Remarks p. 140

CHAPTER IX.

ROBEET SOUTHEY AND JOSEPH COTTLE.

Byron's remains — Sketch of Robert Southey — Notice of Joseph Cottle — Southey's kindness ; his derangement and death — Bristolian apathy 155

CHAPTER X.

SURGERY AND SCIENCE ABERNETHY AND FARADAY.

Visit to Mr. Abernethy ; his personal appearance and manners — A hospital lecture room — Sketch of the lecturer — Anecdotes — Mr. Faraday ; his personal appearance as a lecturer 174

CHAPTER XL

SKETCHES FROM A PRIVATE BOX.

A recollection of Paganini — Comparison with Ole Bull — The first night of " Ion" — JoannaBaillie — Wordsworth — Lady Blessington — Count D'Orsay — Thomas IVIiller the basket-maker 191

Xli CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XII.

THE TWO MONTGOMERIES AND EBENEZER ELLIOTT.

Robert Montgomery ; his works — A visit to Percy Chapel — Sketch of the Author of " Satan ;" his sermon — James Montgomery ; his personal appearance — New poems by Montgomery and Wordsworth — Ebenezer Elliott — A scene in Sheffield — The Corn-law Rhymer as a lecturer, p. 209

CHAPTER Xni.

SKETCHES OF A FEW POPULAR PREACHERS, LIVING AND DEAD.

Rev. Rowland Hill in his latter days — Rev. Mr. Sherman — Piev. Edward Irving; his appearance in the pulpit, and in the parlour — Rev. Baptist Noel — Exeter Hall — Mrs. Fry — Rev. John Williams — Rev. Mr. Bickersteth — Rev. Mr. Grimshaw 226

CHAPTER XIV.

GLIMPSES FROM " THE GALLERY."

First impressions on entering the House of Commons — Sketches of William Cobbett — Henry Hunt — Sir E. Bulwer Lytton — ^Benjamin DTsraeli — T. B. Macaulay — Sir Robert Peel— Sir C.Wetherell— Shell. The Lords : Lord Brougham — Lord Lyndhurst — and the Duke of Wellington 251

CHAPTER I.

RECOLLECTIONS OF ROBERT HALL.

But a veiy few years since, the city of Bristol could boast of more pulpit talent than any other place in the three kingdoms. That period might, not unappropriately, have been termed the Augustan age of the once great commercial emporium ; for at the time to which I allude, some of the most powerful and eminent of modern preachers statedly laboured in the city or its immediate vicinity, and several distinguished clergymen resided within its precincts. Of these great men, however, few or none remain ; for with the exception of William Jay, of Bath, whose sphere of labour was so near Bristol, that he might almost be considered to have formed one in that brilliant constellation of preachers, none, I believe, remain on the earth. Robert Hall, John Foster, John Ryland, William Thorpe, Thomas Roberts, and Lant Carpenter, have all gone fi-om their fields

B of labour to that " rest which remaineth for the people of God," and their places are filled by men perhaps equally devoted, but certainly not similarly endowed with the gifts and graces of genius. Of these celebrated men I propose penning a few reminiscences, for popular speakers, as well as popular writers, will form in this volume subjects of notice. With the individuals whom I have particularly referred to I was for many years familiar, and, as I write, each well-remembered face appears, through the mist of years, just as it was when I beheld it in the " long, long ago." Foremost in the rank of modern pulpit orators was Robert Hall, wdio was scarcely less eccentric as a man than remarkable as a preacher; his works will ever remain an enduring monument of his genius, his piety, and his taste, but it is not of them I intend to speak. To give a sketch of the MAN is my present purpose. With him, therefore, I shall have first to do in this chapter.

Long before I ever saw this truly great man, I had heard his name frequently mentioned in my ownfamily, and early learned to associate with it all that was great and extraordinary. My mother would tell me how she had often seen him, when a student in the Baptist Theological College, at Bristol, pacing the streets with only one stocking on, or occasionally with two on one foot. And fi'om all quarters I gleaned such information respecting him, as made me long to behold the man of whom such stories were related.

It is now many years ago since I first saw him. He was at that time pastor of a church at Leicester, and he visited Bristol, where I then resided, on the occasion of some anniversary ; one of the sermons connected with which he had engaged to preach at the Broadmead Chapel, although it was with much difficulty that he had been prevailed upon to do so, for he had an unconquerable dislike to making his appearance on such public occasions.

In the company of a friend who was connected with the church where Mr. Hall was to officiate, I went, on the evening in question, to the place of worship, and accompanied him, before the service commenced, into the vestry. The building, although it wanted yet an hour to the time fixed for commencing the service, was densely thronged in every part ; and perhaps a more intellectual assemblage had never been gathered together. So popular was the great orator at this time, that it was no uncommon thing for the Professors, at Oxford and Cambridge, to leave their respective Universities on Saturday evenings — post to Leicester, some hundred and fifty miles or so, hear two sermons from Hall, and return to their homes after the evening services — thus sacrificing two nights' rest, for the sake of indulging in what was considered to be one of the highest intellectual treats.

On entering the vestry, I found a large number of ministers, and other gentlemen, assembled, and waiting the arrival of Mr. Hall — the scarcely less cele- B 2 brated John Foster, to whom I shall presently have occasion to refer, amongst them.

After we had waited for about a quarter of an hour, Mr. Hall made his appearance. He was rather below the average height, stout, and inclining to corpulency. His chest was very broad and capacious — the face large, and its features massive. His eyes were large, dark, and full, and his forehead high and broad. The head, which was bald, except at the back, and over the temples, had an indescribable grandeur about it. The worst part of his face was the mouth, which was very large, and the under lip somewhat protruded; the chin was large and projecting. This gave an appearance of heaviness to his general aspect. No one with an observant eye could for a moment gaze on Mr. Hall's majestic countenance without being at once struck with the expression of almost torture which was evident in it. He seemed to be constantly endeavouring to conceal bodily suifering — and it was so, for he was in reality a martyr to one of the most painful diseases that can affect humanity — calculi in the kidneys.

After he had divested himself of his great coat, he had a pipe and some tobacco brought him, and having puffed away for a little time, he pulled off his dress coat, lay down on his back on the hearth rug, and was soon enveloped in a cloud of smoke. This was his usual habit, before entering the pulpit. The agony he endured compelled him to spend a great portion of his time in a recumbent position, and it was only by the use of tobacco and opium, in large quantities, that he could ever obtain even comparative ease. His custom was to smoke prodigiously until the very moment arrived when it was required of him to commence his sermon. He would then rise, and leave his pipe at the door of the pulpit, in readiness for him to resume his Nicotian habit, the moment after he had concluded his discourse.

I left him on his hearth rug, and reached a seat in the church, whence I was fortunate enough to have a full view of the pulpit. The edifice was literally full, almost to suffocation. The great, the gifted, and the noble were there, all waiting with eager intensity for the commencement of the sermon. The aisles had been carpeted, (an unusual thing, it is necessary to state, in those days,) in order that no scuffling of feet should disturb the preacher, who was nervously sensitive to the slightest noise, and whose voice was so low, and at times tremulous, that unless perfect stillness was kept, it was a matter of difficulty to hear him.

In a pew beneath the gallery sat, amongst others, two gentlemen, to whom my attention was directed, and I employed the interval before the service commenced in examining their outward and visible appearances ; for they were both ' men of mark,' and I now saw them for the first time. As I sat in a pew which ran at right angles with theirs, and was within a few yards of them, I had a most favourable opportunity of surveying their features.

The physique of one of the two was striking enough, and would anywhere have excited attention. His face was plain, almost to ugliness— the forehead, furrowed and narrow, towered above his thick eyebrows, which every second were elevated and depressed with astonishing celerity ; two fiery, dark eyes, peered out from beneath these appendages, and flashed with intellect. But how shall I describe the most prominent feature of that face — the nose } It seemed to be not small enough for a nasal organ, nor large enough for a proboscis, yet it partook of the characteristics of each; it was long, and turned up at its extremity; and turned up so decidedly that it seemed to have had a violent quarrel with the mouth beneath, and was determined to keep its distance from it. That nose was never still. It seemed as if it had some violent exercise to learn, and so was convrdsively drilling for it. First, it twitched slightly — then its whole frame-work would shake, in such a manner, that its destruction seemed inevitable ; then its point would droop, and almost instantaneously rise with a jerk. Occasionally it would go tlu'ough a pantomimic jig, with the angles of the mouth for partners, and the two fiery, deep set eyes, would gaze down its bridge in a strange manner. No, that nose was never still — pei-petual motion was what it seemed in pursuit of, and to this day it may be seen twitching with every varying emotion of its possessor. Some years after the period to which I am now referring, I strolled into Westminster Hall, and there, in the Court of

Chancery, I saw the identical nose, and it was as brisk and lively as ever, whisking away Chancery suits with astonishing rapidity. I saw it again in Exeter Hall, when its noble possessor was delivering his great speech on slavery ; it still possessed its marvellous property of restlessness — and when I last had the pleasure of beholding it, it was wagging scornfully at the Bench of Bishops, in the House of Lords,

The figure to which this nose, or rather this face, belonged, was tall and spare — and encased in clothes which might have been bought an hour before, in Seven Dials. The coat had been black — and when its wearer afterwards left the Church, I observed that his pantaloons reached half-way down a pair of unpolished Wellington boots. Altogether, the individual I am endeavouring to describe was a most noticeable man.

And in more senses than one was he so — for, with all his eccentricities, no one will deny to Henry Brougham vast acquirements. Yes, it was Mr. Brougham (as yet untitled) who owned to the face and figure I have portrayed.

Near him was a gentleman of a far different description. He was rather past the middle age, and had a most kind and benevolent expression of feature. His hair was growing grey, and thought had furrowed her unmistakeable lines between the inner angles of the eyebrows, which overshadowed a pair of light grey eyes, in whose depths even a casual observer could not look, without feeling that the owner of them was no common man. It was Sir James Mackintosh, the biographer, historian, and philosopher.

These two celebrated men presented, in their personal appearances, amost striking contrast. Brougham was eternally fidgetting about on his seat — twisting his face into all manner of shapes — standing up and sitting down again a dozen times in a minute, and looking as though he was a hungry cannibal, or as if he wanted to dissect another Keats — for some will have it that it was Brougham, who penned the critique in the Quarterly, which, it is said, killed the sensitive young poet — and which was alluded to in the following extract from a parody on the ' Death of Cock Robin.'

' Who killed John Keats ?

I, said the Quarterly, With Brougham so tartarly,

'T -was one of my feats.'

I say it was a striking contrast to this, to observe Mackintosh sitting, as calmly as a Chinese Mandarin on a mantel piece, and like it, too, only nodding his head gently when Brougham addressed any observation to him. The author of the " History of England," too, was scrupulously neat in his personal appearance, and this was the more noticeable in consequence of the carelessness of his neighbour.

All this may be unimportant enough, but, even at this distance of time, I seem to seethe two great men, as distinctly as if the scene I am describing was one of yesterday — and thinking that there may be many who would like to see such an actor in the great political dramas of our time as Brougham, off the stage, I have taken the trouble of thus introducing him. With his face, as it now is. Punch has made us pretty famihar; and I may as well say, in passing, that these caricatures give a pretty accurate idea of his Lordship ; indeed, he himself admits that the ' Punch' likenesses are the best. Of course, they are a little exaggerated — but not so much so as many, with whom I have chatted on the subject, are apt to suppose.

It is needless to say that Hall's pulpit talents must have been very great, to have attracted such men as those I have just mentioned. Even Ministers of the church from which he dissented, were often to be found amongst his hearers ; and more than once have I seen members of the Bench of Bishops, who, having thrown aside their mitres, crosiers, and lawn sleeves, submitted to be ' hail fellow, well met' with the members of a humbler community, for the sake of hearing the Cicero of the day.

Cottle says, " Mr. Hall broke down all distinction of sects and parties. On one of his visits to Bristol, when preaching at the Chapel, in Broadmead, a competent individual noticed in the thronged assembly, an Irish Bishop, a Dean, and thirteen clergymen.

" The late Dr. Parr was an enthusiastic admirer of Mr. Hall. He said to a friend of the writer, after a warm eulogium on the eloquence of Mr. H., ' In short. Sir, the man is inspired.' Hannah More has more than once said to the writer, " There was no

B 3 man in the church, nor out of it, comparable in talents to Robert Hall."

The services preliminary to the sermon had been nearly gone through, and a hymn was being sung, when Mr. Hall ascended slowly, and, I thought, wearily, the pulpit stairs. Few, on looking at his somewhat unwieldy and rather ungracefnl figure, would have been prejDossessedinhis favour; and, as he sat down in the pulpit, and looked languidly round on the congregation, I experienced, I know not why, a feeling of disappointment, but that speedily wore off. Having taken the bible from the desk, and selected the place of the text, he returned it to the cushion, and then leaned back in his seat, his large head drooping, so that his chin reposed on his broad chest. As if in deep reverie, he remained in this position until the last tones of the hymn ceased ; when he rose, and read his text : " The Father of Lights." At first his voice was scarcely audible, and there appeared some slight hesitation ; but this soon wore off, and, as he warmed with his subject, he poured forth such a continuous stream of eloquence, that it seemed as if it flowed from an inexhaustible source. His tones were, although low, beautifully modulated ; but, owing to some affection in his throat, his speech was, at short intervals, interrupted by a short spasmodic cough. During the delivery of his brilliant paragraphs, the most breathless silence reigned throughout the vast assemblage ; but his momentary cessation was the signal for general relaxation from an attention so intense that it became almost painful. It was curious to observe how every neck was stretched out, so that not a word which fell from those eloquent lips should be lost ; and the suspended breathings of those around me evinced how intently all were hanging on his charmed words. Mr. Hall's fluency was wonderful, and his command of language unsurpassed. I will not mar the beauty of his discourse by attempting to describe it ; but, as his hearers followed him, whilst, by his vivid imagination, he conveyed his hearers through the starry skies, and reasoned, from those lights of the Universe, what the Father of Lights must be, all became lost in wonder and admiration. But the crowning glory of his sermon was his allusion to the heavenly world, whose beatific glories he expatiated on, with almost the eloquence of an angel. He appeared like one inspired ; and, as he guided us by living streams, and led us over the celestial fields, he seemed carried away by his subject, and his face beamed as if it reflected Heaven's own light. And this was the man who, but an hour before, had lain down on the ground, in the excess of his agony ; and who, from his earliest years, had constantly endured the most excruciating torture which man can be called upon to bear ! For often has he been heard to say, that he had never known one waking hour free from extreme pain.

Mr. Hall used very little action in the pulpit. His favourite — or, rather, his usual attitude — was, to stand with his chest pressed against the cushion, his left arm lying on the Bible, and his right hand slightly raised, with the palm towards the audience. His tones were almost uniformly low, and he rarely raised them. Ideas seemed so to accumulate, whilst he was preaching, that they flowed forth without effort on his part. Never did he hesitate ; and so pure were his oral compositions, that the most elaborate efforts of the pen would rather have injured than improved their structure.

Mr. Joseph Cottle says, with reference to his oral and written compositions, " this sermon (on Infidelity) I was so happy as to hear delivered, and have no hesitation in expressing an opinion, that the oral was not only very diffei'ent from the jjrinted discourse, but greatly its superior. In the one case he expressed the sentiments of a mind fully charged with matter the most invigorating and solemnly important, but, discarding notes (which he once told me always 'hampered' him), it was not in his power to display the same language, or to record the same evanescent trains of thought ; so that, in preparing a sermon for the press, no other than a general resemblance could be preserved. In trusting alone to his recollection, when the stimulus was withdrawn of a crowded and most attentive auditory, the ardent feeling, the thought that ' burned,' was liable, in some measure, to become deteriorated by the substitution of cool philosophical arrangement and accuracy, for the spontaneous effusions of his overflowing heart, so that what was gained by one course was more than lost by the other."

Mr. Hall, like most other men of genius, was somewhat eccentric — and possessed powers of sarcasm, which, in frequent instances, he exerted with tremendous force. Few men could say severer things — I will mention an instance or two.

He had one day attended a church, where a young minister preached on some public occasion. It so happened, that the preacher met Mr. Hall afterwards, at dinner, at the house of a mutual friend. The yoiuig man was very anxious to hear Mr. Hall's opinion of his discourse, and very pertinaciously plied the great man with questions respecting it. Hall endured the annoyance for some time, with great patience. He did not wish to hurt the young man's feelings — but he could not, conscientiously laud his sermon. At length, worried beyond endurance, he said : —

' Well, Sir, there was one fine passage — and I liked it much. Sir — much.'

The young divine rubbed his hands, in high glee, and pressed Mr. Hall to name it.

' Why, Sir,' replied Hall, ' the passage I allude to, was your passage from the pulpit to the vestry.''

His " continent of mud" anecdote is too familiar a one to be repeated here ; perhaps the following is less generally known : —

' What do you think of Mr. , Mr. Hall f' asked a friend of him one day, when seated in confidential chat with the great preacher in his study.

' Why, Sir,' replied Mr. Hall, ' Mr. is a remarkable man — a very remarkable man in his line ; mark me, I say in his line, Sir.'

' And pray. Sir, what may you consider to be his "line?"'

' Why,' said Hall, ' Mr. is a remarkably good

^Ae-preacher, Sir — a ^Ae-preacher, Sir ; soft preaching is his line. Sir.'

Mr. Hall finally left Leicester, and became pastor of the Broadmead Church in Bristol, so that I often had opportunities of hearing him. The chapel was always crowded to excess, and the great man was of course much in request during the week by those who enjoyed the privilege of his acquaintance. In the social circle, Hall was a delightful companion, when once the formal barriers to intercourse, which he much detested, were broken down. Occasionally he gave the reins to a sportive fancy, and nothing could be more delightful than some of his sallies. In repartee, I never knew any one so brilliant. Of course, his pipe was always provided — and drawingrooms, which had previously been guiltless of tobacco odour, were gladly subjected to the nuisance in Mr. Hall's case.

At these parties Mr. Hall gave frequent proofs of that absence of mind which characterized him during all periods of his life. One evening he was the 'Lion' of a large tea party ; during the progress of the meal, tea spoons began to grow scarce. No one knew where they went to, and a mystery seemed to be brewing with the Congou. Mr. Hall was an inveterate tea drinker, and attention was directed towards him by his asking, with every fresh cup, for a tea spoon. ' Where can they have gone to ?' murmured the lady; but no solution to the mystery was found. Hall kept on for a long time, talking, sipping, and asking for more. At length he came to a finish, and the tea things were removed — but where were the spoons } In about an hour afterwards Mr. Hall left ; and on the sofa where he sat were discovered the missing articles, to the number of seventeen, which corresponded to the number of cups he had swallowed. Of course, a general laugh followed the clearing up of the mystery. On Hall's returning to the room he was informed of his unconscious petty larceny, but he disclaimed all knowledge of the affair.

During Mr. Hall's residence in Bristol, the album mania raged to a terrible extent, and it was scarcely probable that one so popular as he was should have escaped its consequences — nor did he. One instance of an attack upon him fell under my own notice — and as it is very characteristic of the man I shall relate it.

A young lady acquaintance of mine, who resided in the country, was extremely anxious that Mr. Hall should contribute something to her album, and she begged me to forward it to the great man, with her request backed by mine. I did not much like the matter, but was so circumstanced that I could not well refuse. So I packed up the precious book, whose pages were graced with the effusions of small poetasters and petty prosers, and despatched it to Mr. Hall's house. There it remained for some time, and when, at last, it was returned, Mr. Hall had written in it. At the bottom of a page he had scrawled, in his almost illegible hand —

'It is my humble opinion that albums are very foolish things. Robert Hall.'

My fair friend was sadly annoyed — but for my own part, I should have much preferred so characteristic an autograph of the eloquent man, to the most complimentary lines which could have been penned.

When Mr. Hall was co-pastor of the Broadmead Church with the Rev. Mr. Evans, a member of his Church, whom we will call W., called on him and stated that he considered himself possessed of preaching talents, and begged Mr. Hall to forward his views of getting into the ministry. W. was an ignorant, conceited man, and Mr. Hall could not but smile at his repeated applications, although he was somewhat annoyed by them. On one occasion Mr. W. said he did not like to wrap his talent in a napkin.

' Oh, brother W. ,' said Hall, ' don't go to the expense of buying a napkin ; a very small pocket-handkerchief will answer the purpose.'

Not repulsed by this broad hint, W. still pestered Mr. Hall about his pulpit call, until, finally, the latter appointed a time for him to give a specimen of his preaching capabilities before the church. On the following Monday evening it was Mr. Hall's turn to have officiated, but he gave up the place to his applicant, who, at the appointed time, took the minister's seat.

Mr. Hall sat below, and as soon as the hymn had been sung, W. rose and proceeded to give out his text, which was, ' Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss,' &c. For a short time there was silence, and then the aspirant to pulpit honours commenced, with, ' Yea, doubtless,' — another pause — and then again ' Yea, doubtless,' was repeated. Now a very long pause, and a third time ' Yea, doubtless,' slowly fell from the lips of W. Now, thought the hearers, we shall have something else ; but the preacher once more again stammered out, ' Yea — doubtless,' and Hall, unable to bear it any longer, rose, and looking the unhappy wight fidl in the face, said, ' Yea, doubtless, brother W., thou hadst better come down.' Amidst the titterings of the congregation, he left the pulpit ; and to the day of his death (for I believe his doubts are ended) ' Yea, doubtless' was the name by which he was most generally known.

I have referred to what Brougham said respecting Mr. Hall's mouth ; it was very large. He was as well aware of this as any one else, and one morning at a breakfast party, in Bristol, on the occasion of family prayers, a young minister, referring to a sermon about to be delivered by the distinguished preacher, prayed that the Lord would ' open his mouth wider