Born: John George
Gmelin, naturalist and Siberian traveller, 1709,
Tubingen; Rev. Rowland Hill, eminent divine, 1744;
Thomas Bewick, celebrated
wood engraver, 1753, Cherry
Burn, Northumberland; George IV, king of England,
1762; Robert Southey, poet, 1774, Bristol; Francis
Horner, politician, 1778, Edinburgh.
Died: Pope Gregory IX,
1241; Sir Thomas Smith, distinguished scholar, and
author of The English Commonwealth, 1577; Pope
Innocent XI, 1689; Nahum Tate, versifier of the
Psalms, 1715, Southwark; William Sherard, founder of
the botanical chair at Oxford, 1728, Eltham; Robert
Stewart, Marquis of Londonderry (Lord Castlereagh),
Tory statesman, died by his own hand at North Cray,
Kent, 1822; George Stephenson, engineer, 1848; Dean
Conybeare, geologist, 1857, Itchinstoke, Hants.
Feast Day: St. Euplius,
martyr, 304. St. Muredach, first bishop of Killala, in
Ireland, 5th century. St. Clare, virgin and abbess,
1253.
REV. ROWLAND HILL
Society, at the present day,
rarely witnesses the exhibition of striking and
eccentric traits of character on the part of
individuals. The figures in the great picture of the
human family seldom stand prominently forth from the
canvas; angularities and roughnesses are gradually
being smoothed, and the tendency to a fixed and
unvarying uniformity is continually becoming more and
more manifest.
This observation applies with
very decided emphasis to the ministrations of the
pulpit and the deportment of clergymen. True, we have
the vagaries of Mr. Spurgeon, and one or two others of
a similar class, though even these fall far short of
the piquancy to which our ancestors were formerly
accustomed under similar circumstances. The
innumerable quaintnesses and witty sayings recorded of
pulpit oratory in ancient times, the odd contretemps
and whimsical incidents narrated by the jest-books in
connection with clerical functions and services, are
now almost entirely reminiscences of the past. And
doubtless it is well that it should be so. The
penny-postage, cheap newspapers, and railways, have
been as efficacious in banishing them from the present
generation, as they have been influential in the
extinction of popular superstitions and observances in
the remote parts of the kingdom.
One of the last of the old
school of divines to which we have just referred was
the Rev. Rowland Hill. The son of a Shropshire
baronet, whose ancestors had held estates in the
county from at least the days of Edward I, he
presented to the close of his life, with all his
peculiarities, the perfect model of the English
gentleman�tall, vigorous, and energetic. Having
received a good education at Eton and Cambridge, his
eccentricities were prevented from degenerating into
offensive displays of ignorance and bad taste; whilst
his natural abilities and real kindliness of heart
enabled him both to exercise the most extended and
beneficial influence in his preaching, and gain the
affections and esteem of those with whom he was
brought in contact.
In his youthful days, the
religious views of Wesley were
just making their way
amid opprobrium and ridicule to the extensive adoption
which they afterwards attained. Their Arminianism,
however, was too mild a nutriment for Hill, and he
fastened with enthusiastic preference on the tenets of
Whitefield, Berridge, and similar preachers of the
more fiery sort. The religious convictions which had
been impressed on him when still a boy at Eton, were
renewed and strengthened during his sojourn at
Cambridge, where his incessant activity in
endeavouring to gain converts to Calvinism among the
students, holding meetings for religious conversation
and prayer, and occasionally preaching in the town and
neighbourhood, drew down upon him severe rebukes from
the college-authorities. He persisted, nevertheless,
in his procedure; and having now satisfied himself,
from the audiences which he
attracted, that preaching was his vocation, he
resolved to adopt it as his profession in, life.
Though retaining a strong attachment to the Church of
England, he differed so much from her in many points
of discipline and religious worship, that he was
unable to bind himself by any pledge to refrain from
deviating from her rules. Consequently, though he
succeeded in being admitted to deacon's orders, he was
refused episcopal ordination by one prelate after
another, till at last he abandoned the attempt as
hopeless. During the subsequent part of his life, he
must therefore be regarded as a Dissenter; but, like
Whitefield, he never promulgated any special form of
orthodox doctrine, or attached himself to any
particular sect. At first, he was entirely itinerary,
preaching as opportunity offered; but, latterly, on
the Surrey chapel being built for him in London, he
assumed the functions of a settled charge, and he is
chiefly known in connection with his ministrations in
that place of worship.
The anecdotes recorded of
Rowland Hill and his pulpit discourse are numerous and
piquant. On one occasion, he was preaching for a
public charity, when a note was handed up to him,
inquiring if it would be right for a bankrupt to
contribute. He noticed the matter in the course of his
sermon, and pronounced decidedly that such a person
could not do so in Christian honesty. 'But, my
friends,' he added, 'I would advise you who are not
insolvent, not to pass the plate this evening, as the
people will be sure to say: "There goes the bankrupt!
" 'Another time, at the church of St. John's, Wapping,
he declared: 'I am come to preach to great sinners,
notorious sinners, profane sinners�yea, to Wapping
sinners.'
And one day, on announcing
from the pulpit the amount of a liberal collection
which had been contributed by his hearers, he
remarked: 'You have behaved so well on this occasion,
that we mean to have another collection next Sunday. I
have heard it said of a good cow, that the more you
milk her the more she will give.' One wet day he
observed a number of persons enter his chapel to take
shelter from a heavy shower of rain, and remarked
pithily, that many people were blamed for making
religion a cloak; but he did not think those were much
better who made it an umbrella! Petitions were
frequently handed to him in the pulpit, requesting the
prayers of the congregation for certain persons. A wag
one day handed up, 'The prayers of the congregation
are requested for the Reverend Row-land Hill, that he
will not ride in his carriage on Sunday.' Not being
aware of the peculiar nature of the request till he
had read it too far to recede, he went on to the end,
and then added: 'If the writer of this piece of folly
and impertinence is at present in the congregation,
and will come into the vestry after service, and allow
me to put a saddle on his back, I shall be willing to
ride home upon him instead of in my carriage.'
He was very kind and
charitable to the poor, but had a great intolerance of
dirt and slovenliness. On noticing anything of the
kind, he would say: 'Here, mistress, is a trifle for
you to buy some soap and a scrubbing brush: there is
plenty of water to be had for nothing. Good Mr.
Whitefield used to say: " Cleanliness is next to
godliness." In impressing upon his hearers the duty of
owing no man anything, he would remark: 'I never pay
my debts, and for the best of all reasons, because I
never have any debts to pay.' Speaking to tradesmen,
he would say: 'You are sometimes more in the path of
duty in looking into your ledgers, than into your
Bibles. All things should be done decently and in
order.' Ludicrous stories are told of people who, from
hearing so much about him, imagined his influence must
be paramount in every quarter. A sentimental-looking
lady one morning made her entree into his study in the
most solemn manner. Advancing by measured steps
towards the preacher, she began: 'Divine shepherd '
"Pon my word, ma'am!'
'I hear you have great
influence with the royal family.'
Well, ma'am, and did you
hear anything else?'
'Now, seriously, sir�my son
has most wonderful poetic powers. Sir, his poetry is
of a sublime order�noble, original, fine!'
Hill muttered to himself:
'Well, I wonder what will come next?' and his
visitor continued:
'Yes, sir, pardon the
liberty, and I therefore called to ask you to get
him made poet laureate!'
'Ma'am, you might as well
ask me to get him made archbishop of Canterbury!'
Whereupon the colloquy terminated.
Another day, a foreigner was
announced, who entered with:
'Meester Hill, I have heard
you are a wonderful great, goot man�can do anyting.'
'Mercy on us! then I must be
a wonderful man indeed.'
'Yes, sare, so you are a
very wonderful man; so I call to ask you to make my
ambassador do his duty by me.'
'Sir, I can assure you I
have not the honour of knowing him.'
'Oh, sare, but he regard a
letter from you.'
'Sir, I can have no possible
influence with him, and cannot take the liberty of
writing to him on a subject about which I know
nothing.'
'But, sare, I will tell
you.'
Then seeing no other way of
getting rid of his visitor, he concluded by saying:
'Well, sir, you may give my
compliments to the ambassador, and say that I advise
him to do his duty; and that will do as well as
writing.'
'Very goot, sare�gout-day:
He was very severe in rebuking
hypocrisy, and those persons who had disgraced their
religious profession by some discreditable action. An
individual in this predicament met him one morning as
he was going out, and saluted him with:
'How do you do, Mr. Hill, I
am delighted to see you once more?'
'What! ar'n't you hanged
yet?' was the reply.
An adherent of
Antinomianism, who was rather given to the bottle,
asked him one day:
'Now, do you think, Mr.
Hill, a glass of spirits will drive grace out of my
heart?'
'No,' he replied, 'for there
is none in it!'
A lady, who led rather a gay
and worldly life, once remarked to him:
'Oh! I am afraid lest, after
all, I should not be saved!'
'I am glad to hear you say
so,' answered Hill, 'for I have been long afraid for
you, I assure you.'
On one occasion he was
addressing a number of candidates for the ministry,
and said:
'I will tell you a story. A
barber, having amassed a comfortable independence,
retired to his native place, where he became a
preacher in a small chapel. Another person from the
same village being similarly fortunate, settled there
also, and attended the ministry of the barber. Wanting
a new wig, he said to his pastor: "You might as well
make it for me," to which he assented. The wig was
sent home, badly made, but charged at nearly double
the usual price. The good man said nothing; but when
anything particularly profitable escaped the lips of
the preacher, he observed to himself: "Excellent�but,
oh! the wig." When the barber prayed with apparent
unction, he also thought this should touch my heart,
but, oh! the wig. Now, my dear young brethren,
whenever you are placed, remember the wig!'
The anecdotes recorded above
of this celebrated divine may be depended on for their
authenticity; but it is otherwise with a host of other
sayings ascribed to him. It is related that he used,
in the pulpit, to make personal allusions to his wife,
as an example of the transitoriness of beauty and the
necessity of humility and self-depreciation. In
lecturing on the vanities of dress, he is reported to
have said: 'Ladies love fine caps; so does Mrs. Hill.
Yesterday, came home a five-guinea one; but she will
never wear it, for I poked it into the fire, bandbox
and all.'
On one Sunday morning, the same veracious
chroniclers represent him as apostrophising his wife,
when entering chapel, with: 'Here comes my wife with a
chest of drawers on her head! She went out to buy
them, and spent all her money in that hoity-toity
bonnet!'
These pleasant little stories,
like, unfortunately, many other good things related of
different people, are purely fictitious. The subject
of them was amused with the generality of them, but
expressed great indignation on learning the speeches
ascribed to him in reference to Mrs. Hill. 'It is an
abominable untruth,' he would exclaim, 'derogatory to
my character as a Christian and a gentleman�they would
make me out a bear!'
In the course of his ministry,
Rowland Hill paid three visits to Scotland, the last
in 1824. On the first two occasions he delivered
sermons to immense crowds in the Edinburgh Circus, and
also on the Calton Hill, besides visiting Glasgow and
Paisley. His style of preaching was rather a novelty
in the north, where the smooth rounded periods of
Blair and Robertson had, for many years, formed the
models of pulpit eloquence. It was, moreover, made the
subject of animadversion by the General Assembly of
the Church, who issued a 'pastoral admonition' against
countenancing such irregular and itinerant preachers
as Rowland Hill and his coadjutors, the Haldanes. In
connection with this subject, it is related of him
that, on his being asked the reason why his
carriage-horses bore such strange names (one of the
quadrupeds being denominated Order, and the other
Decorum), he answered: 'Oh, they said in the north, "Mr. Hill rides upon
the backs of order and decorum;"
so I called one of my horses Order, and the other
Decorum, that they might tell the truth in one way, if
they did not in another.'
Rowland Hill married, in 1773,
Miss Mary Tudway, of Somersetshire, with whom he lived
happily for a space of nearly sixty years. She died in
August 1830, and was followed shortly afterwards by
her husband, who departed on 11th April
1833, in his eighty-eighth year. Almost to the last he
maintained his mental vigour unimpaired, and delivered
his last sermon in Surrey chapel little more than a
week previous to his decease. Though so popular and
renowned as a preacher, his literary productions are
few; but the principal one, his Village Dialogues,
will, from the vigour and raciness of humour which it
displays, interest all classes of readers, apart from
any religious predilections.
THE LAST OF THE
GEORGES
The faults of character
belonging to George IV have of late years been largely
insisted on, and perhaps it is not possible to
extenuate them in any great degree. It is, however, a
mistake to suppose that, because a man is a
voluptuary, and more remarkable for good manners than
good morals, he therefore is a person wholly bad.
There really is no such being as one wholly bad, or
wholly good either. A human being is a mixture of
various and often apparently incongruous elements, one
relieving and redeeming another, sometimes one
assuming a predominance and sometimes another, very
much as the accidental provocations of external
circumstances may determine. It was so with this
monarch, as it was with the humblest of his subjects.
In his lifetime, one often heard both of pleasant
things said, and of amiable things done, by the king.
His restoration of the
forfeited Scotch peerages in 1824 was a piece of pure
generosity towards men who were suffering through no
faults of their own. When that measure was determined
on, the representative of a forfeited baronet of 1715
applied for a like extension of the royal grace.
Though equally suitable from the fact of the family
having purchased back their ancestral lands, it was
refused by the ministers; but the king, on hearing of
it, insisted on the gentleman being gratified. This we
can tell on the authority of a person very nearly
concerned in the matter.
In Mrs. Mathews's Memoirs of
her husband is an anecdote shewing conclusively a very
great deal of good-nature in the king. The old Polish
dwarf, Count Boruwlaski, was, through Mathews's
exertions, brought to Carlton House to see the king,
who had known him many years before. The two visitors,
a dwarf and a player, were treated by the king with
great kindness, and, more than this, with much
considerate delicacy. It was in July 1821, when the
approaching coronation and
some less pleasant matters
were greatly occupying the royal mind. When Boruwlaski
came away, Mathews found him in tears, and learned
that it was entirely owing to the kindness the king
had manifested towards him. While the two were for a
little while apart, the king had taken the opportunity
to inquire if the little count required any pecuniary
help to make his latter days comfortable, avowing his
desire to supply whatever was necessary.
The king had also offered to
shew his coronation-robes to the dwarf, and further
asked if he retained any recollection of a favourite
valet of his, whom he named.
'The count professing a
perfect remembrance of the man, the king said: "He is
now, poor fellow, on his death-bed. I saw him this
morning, and mentioned your expected visit. He
expressed a great desire to see you, which I ventured
to promise he should do; for I have such a regard for
him, that I would gratify his last hours as much as
possible. Will you, count, do me the favour of paying my poor faithful servant
a short visit? He is even new expecting you. I hope you will not refuse to
indulge a poor,
suffering, dying creature."
The count of course expressed his perfect readiness to obey
the king's wishes.
'Boruwlaski was first shewn
the robes, and then conducted to the chamber of the
sick man, which was fitted up with every comfort and
care; a nurse and another attendant in waiting upon
the sufferer. When the count was announced, the poor
invalid desired to be propped up in his bed. He was so
changed by time and sickness, that the count no longer
recognised the face with which his memory was
familiar. The nurse and attendant having retired into
an adjoining room, the dying man (for such he was, and
felt himself to be) expressed the great obligation he
felt at such a visit, and spoke most gratefully of him
whom he designated the best of masters; told the count
of all the king's goodness to him, and, indeed, of his
uniform benevolence to all that depended upon him;
mentioned that his majesty, during the long course of
his poor servant's illness, notwithstanding the
circumstances that had agitated himself so long, his
numerous duties and cares, his present anxieties and
forthcoming ceremonies, had never omitted to visit his
bedside twice every day, not for a moment merely, but
long enough to soothe and comfort him, and to see that
he had everything necessary and desirable, telling him
all particulars of himself that were interesting to an
old and attached servant and humble friend. This
account was so genuine in its style, and so affecting
in its relation, that it deeply touched the heart of
the listener. The dying man, feeling exhaustion, put
an end to the interview by telling the count that he
only prayed to live long enough to greet his dear
master after his coronation�to hear that the ceremony
had been performed with due honour, and without any
interruption to his dignity�and that then he was ready
to die in peace.'
Mrs. Mathews adds:
'Poor Boruwlaski returned to the royal presence, as I have
related, utterly subdued by the foregoing scene; upon
which every feeling heart will, I am persuaded, make
its own comment, unmixed with party-spirit or
prejudice.'
FRANCIS HORNER
To the rising generation, the
name of Francis Horner is comparatively little known,
though as the friend of
Jeffrey, Brougham, and
Sydney
Smith, a contributor to the Edinburgh Review, and a
brilliant and influential speaker on the side of the
Whigs, in the House of Commons, his name is intimately
connected with the political and literary history of
the early part of the present century. Cut off by an
insidious and consuming disease at the premature age
of thirty-eight, in the very flower of his
parliamentary. reputation, he had not yet so far
matured his powers as to leave behind a durable
impress of his character and abilities. Yet the
universal regret by which the tidings of his death
were received at the time, testify how exalted were
the hopes which the intelligence of his countrymen had
entertained respecting him hopes which a perusal of
his literary remains, limited in amount as these are,
induce us to pronounce to have been thoroughly
justifiable.
The history of this brilliant
young man is not much diversified by incident. His
father was a wealthy merchant in the city of
Edinburgh, and Francis received his education in the
High School there, then under the rectorship of the
distinguished classical scholar, Dr. Adam. Always of a
studious, retiring disposition, he rarely mingled in
the sports of the other boys, among whom, however, he
held the proud pre-eminence of being the dux or
head-scholar. The bent of his mind, from the first,
seems to have been towards a profession to which the
art of oratory formed a leading adjunct, and ho
accordingly chose that of an advocate at the Scottish
bar. With the view of getting rid of his northern
accent, his father sent him, when about seventeen, to
an academy at Shacklewell, near London, conducted by a
Mr. Hewlett, who succeeded so well in smoothing down
the young Scotchman's Doric, that in after-life it is
said to have been perfectly indistinguishable.
Returning to Edinburgh, he commenced his legal
studies, and in due time; was admitted a member of the
Faculty of Advocates. Here his avocations and
sympathies naturally brought him into close fellowship
with Francis Jeffrey, and the
rest of that brilliant
coterie which embraced so enthusiastically the cause
of progress, and established the Edinburgh Review as
the promulgator of their sentiments. He was also one
of the most distinguished members of the Speculative
Society, a debating association in Edinburgh, which
then included some of the most splendid oratorical and
literary talent in Great Britain.
After practising for some time
as an advocate, he resolved on qualifying himself for
the English bar, as affording a better field for his
talents, and also as opening up to him more readily
the path of distinction in public life. He accordingly
proceeded to London, where he entered himself as a
student at Lincoln's Inn, and was called to the bar in
1807, having the previous year been returned to
parliament for the borough of St. Ives, in Cornwall,
through the influence of Lord Henry Petty, afterwards
the Marquis of Lansdowne. He subsequently sat
successively in three other parliaments, the last
place for which he was returned being St. Mawes, in
Cornwall. During a period of about ten years, he
distinguished himself as one of the most effective
members of the Opposition, on all questions of
commercial polity, and more especially those relating
to the currency. Towards the end of 1816, his
constitution, never robust, began visibly to give way,
and in the hope of re-establishing his health, the was
recommended to try the curative influences of a
southern climate. He accordingly proceeded to ltaly,
and took up his abode at Pisa, whore for a time he was
cheered by the appearances of convalescence. These,
however, proved fallacious, and the difficulty of
breathing, and other symptoms of his malady, having
returned with renewed severity, he expired on the
evening of Saturday, 8th February 1817.
The regret occasioned in
England by his death was great and profound. Eloquent
tributes to his memory were rendered in the House of
Commons by Lord Morpeth, Mr. Canning,
and others; but
it was in private life, among the personal friends to
whom he had endeared himself by the uprightness and
amiability of his disposition, that his loss was most
sensibly felt. Sydney Smith used to declare of him,
that he had the ten commandments written in his face,
which bore so thoroughly the impress of virtue and
honesty, that as the clerical wag remarked, no jury
could possibly convict him on any charge, and he might
consequently commit all sorts of crimes with impunity.
His talents as an orator, statesman, and scholar were
only exceeded by the modesty which characterised his
whole deportment. Had he survived, there is little
doubt that he would have attained to the highest
offices in the state, and handed down his name to
posterity as one of the ablest and most industrious of
our political economists. But, like Henry Kirke White
and
J
ohn
Keats
, whom, however, he only resembled in
the gentleness and goodness of his disposition, the
brightness of the morning of his life was prematurely
extinguished, and his sun went down whilst it was yet
day.
THE
OLD AND NEW VERSIONS OF THE PSALMS
Nahum Tate has a place in
literary history solely on account or his connection
with one of the two authorised versions of the Psalms,
printed in the Book of Common Prayer. His merits would
never have given him a niche in the Temple of Fame,
but for that authorisation.
The Psalms of David have,
individually and partially, been translated into an
English lyrical form by many persons; hut the
collections best known are the 'old version' and. the
'new version' �the one under the names of Sternhold
and Hopkins, the other under those of Brady and Tate.
Thomas Sternhold, in the reign of Henry VIII, being,
as Wanton says, 'or it serious disposition, and an
enthusiast to the reformation, was much offended at
the lascivious ballads which prevailed among the
courtiers; and with, a laudable desire to check these
indecencies, undertook a metrical version of the
Psalter�"thinking thereby," says Anthony Wood, "that
the courtiers would sing them instead of their
sonnets; but they did not, only some few excepting."
Sternhold translated thirty-seven of the Psalms; and
they were published collectively in I549 'drawen into
English metre,' as the title-page expressed it.
Some few years after this,
John Hopkins (of whom very little is known) translated
fifty-eight Psalms from the Hebrew, different from
those which had been taken in hand by Sternhold; and
in 1568 appeared The Whole Book of Psalms,
collected into English metre, by Thomas Sternhold,
John, Hopkins, and, others. Set forth and allowed to
he, sung its all Churches before and after Morning and
Evening Prayer, and also before and after Sermons. To
this day, it is a matter of controversy how the word
'allowed' is to lie understood here; but whether the
collection received Episcopal authorisation or not, it
come into general use, was in after ears regularly
printed with the Book of Common Prayer. The
Psalms, however, under-went such repeated changes in
words and general style, that Sternhold and Hopkins
would hardly have recognised their own work. As
originally Written, some of the words and phrases were
of such a character that, though perhaps not
notice-able at the time, they grated on the taste of a
later age. The following examples are from four of the
Psalms:
For why their hartes were
nothyng bent,
To him nor to his trade;
Nor yet to keep nor to performe
The Covenant that was made!
What! is his goodness
clean decaid
For ever and a day?
Or is his promise now delaid,
And doth his truth decay?
Confound them that do
apply
And seeke to make my shame;
And at my harme do laugh, and cry
So, so, there goes the game!
Why dost withdraw thy hand
aback,
And hide it in thy lappe?
0 pluck it out, and be not slack,
To give thy foe a rappe!
The last of these four verses
is addressed to the Deity! The old version, even after
all the dressing-up it received, was a very poor
affair; but Bishop Seeker said a good word for it. He
contended that the Psalms, thus set, suited the common
people, for whom they were intended. The plainer they
are, the sooner they understand them; the lower their
style is, the better is it levelled to their
capacities; and the heavier they go, the more easily
can they keep pace with them.'
Nicholas Brady, born in
Ireland in 1659, made a new metrical translation of
some of the Psalms; and Nahum Tate, also born in
Ireland about the same year, translated others. It is,
however, not now known who prepared that 'new version'
which comprises the labours of Brady, Tate, and others
left unmentioned. Tate was, for a time, poet-laureate.
A severe critic has characterised him as 'the author
of the worst alterations of Shakspeare, the worst
version of the Psalms of David, and the worst
continuation of a great poem. (Absalom and Achitophel)
extant;' but this is going a little too far in
reference to the Psalms. These translations are,
nevertheless, rather spiritless. Dr. Watts received a
letter from his brother, in which the latter said:
'Tate and Brady still keep
near the same pace. I know not what beast they ride
(one that will be content to carry double); but I am
sure it is no Pegasus. There is in them a mighty
deficiency of that life and soul which are necessary
to rouse our fancies and kindle and fire our
passions.' More modern versions of the Psalms are
now very largely used in English churches; but as
the ecclesiastical authorities have not made any
combined move in the matter, the version of Brady
and Tate is still bound up with the Book of Common
Prayer.