_ Ernest returned to Cambridge for the May term of 1858, on the plea
of reading for ordination, with which he was now face to face, and
much nearer than he liked. Up to this time, though not religiously
inclined, he had never doubted the truth of anything that had been
told him about Christianity. He had never seen anyone who doubted,
nor read anything that raised a suspicion in his mind as to the
historical character of the miracles recorded in the Old and New
Testaments.
It must be remembered that the year 1858 was the last of a term
during which the peace of the Church of England was singularly
unbroken. Between 1844, when "Vestiges of Creation" appeared, and
1859, when "Essays and Reviews" marked the commencement of that
storm which raged until many years afterwards, there was not a
single book published in England that caused serious commotion
within the bosom of the Church. Perhaps Buckle's "History of
Civilisation" and Mill's "Liberty" were the most alarming, but they
neither of them reached the substratum of the reading public, and
Ernest and his friends were ignorant of their very existence. The
Evangelical movement, with the exception to which I shall revert
presently, had become almost a matter of ancient history.
Tractarianism had subsided into a tenth day's wonder; it was at
work, but it was not noisy. The "Vestiges" were forgotten before
Ernest went up to Cambridge; the Catholic aggression scare had lost
its terrors; Ritualism was still unknown by the general provincial
public, and the Gorham and Hampden controversies were defunct some
years since; Dissent was not spreading; the Crimean war was the one
engrossing subject, to be followed by the Indian Mutiny and the
Franco-Austrian war. These great events turned men's minds from
speculative subjects, and there was no enemy to the faith which
could arouse even a languid interest. At no time probably since the
beginning of the century could an ordinary observer have detected
less sign of coming disturbance than at that of which I am writing.
I need hardly say that the calm was only on the surface. Older men,
who knew more than undergraduates were likely to do, must have seen
that the wave of scepticism which had already broken over Germany
was setting towards our own shores, nor was it long, indeed, before
it reached them. Ernest had hardly been ordained before three works
in quick succession arrested the attention even of those who paid
least heed to theological controversy. I mean "Essays and Reviews,"
Charles Darwin's "Origin of Species," and Bishop Colenso's
"Criticisms on the Pentateuch."
This, however, is a digression; I must revert to the one phase of
spiritual activity which had any life in it during the time Ernest
was at Cambridge, that is to say, to the remains of the Evangelical
awakening of more than a generation earlier, which was connected
with the name of Simeon.
There were still a good many Simeonites, or as they were more
briefly called "Sims," in Ernest's time. Every college contained
some of them, but their headquarters were at Caius, whither they
were attracted by Mr Clayton who was at that time senior tutor, and
among the sizars of St John's.
Behind the then chapel of this last-named college, there was a
"labyrinth" (this was the name it bore) of dingy, tumble-down rooms,
tenanted exclusively by the poorest undergraduates, who were
dependent upon sizarships and scholarships for the means of taking
their degrees. To many, even at St John's, the existence and
whereabouts of the labyrinth in which the sizars chiefly lived was
unknown; some men in Ernest's time, who had rooms in the first
court, had never found their way through the sinuous passage which
led to it.
In the labyrinth there dwelt men of all ages, from mere lads to
grey-haired old men who had entered late in life. They were rarely
seen except in hall or chapel or at lecture, where their manners of
feeding, praying and studying, were considered alike objectionable;
no one knew whence they came, whither they went, nor what they did,
for they never showed at cricket or the boats; they were a gloomy,
seedy-looking conferie, who had as little to glory in in clothes and
manners as in the flesh itself.
Ernest and his friends used to consider themselves marvels of
economy for getting on with so little money, but the greater number
of dwellers in the labyrinth would have considered one-half of their
expenditure to be an exceeding measure of affluence, and so
doubtless any domestic tyranny which had been experienced by Ernest
was a small thing to what the average Johnian sizar had had to put
up with.
A few would at once emerge on its being found after their first
examination that they were likely to be ornaments to the college;
these would win valuable scholarships that enabled them to live in
some degree of comfort, and would amalgamate with the more studious
of those who were in a better social position, but even these, with
few exceptions, were long in shaking off the uncouthness they
brought with them to the University, nor would their origin cease to
be easily recognisable till they had become dons and tutors. I have
seen some of these men attain high position in the world of politics
or science, and yet still retain a look of labyrinth and Johnian
sizarship.
Unprepossessing then, in feature, gait and manners, unkempt and ill-
dressed beyond what can be easily described, these poor fellows
formed a class apart, whose thoughts and ways were not as the
thoughts and ways of Ernest and his friends, and it was among them
that Simeonism chiefly flourished.
Destined most of them for the Church (for in those days "holy
orders" were seldom heard of), the Simeonites held themselves to
have received a very loud call to the ministry, and were ready to
pinch themselves for years so as to prepare for it by the necessary
theological courses. To most of them the fact of becoming clergymen
would be the entree into a social position from which they were at
present kept out by barriers they well knew to be impassable;
ordination, therefore, opened fields for ambition which made it the
central point in their thoughts, rather than as with Ernest,
something which he supposed would have to be done some day, but
about which, as about dying, he hoped there was no need to trouble
himself as yet.
By way of preparing themselves more completely they would have
meetings in one another's rooms for tea and prayer and other
spiritual exercises. Placing themselves under the guidance of a few
well-known tutors they would teach in Sunday Schools, and be
instant, in season and out of season, in imparting spiritual
instruction to all whom they could persuade to listen to them.
But the soil of the more prosperous undergraduates was not suitable
for the seed they tried to sow. The small pieties with which they
larded their discourse, if chance threw them into the company of one
whom they considered worldly, caused nothing but aversion in the
minds of those for whom they were intended. When they distributed
tracts, dropping them by night into good men's letter boxes while
they were asleep, their tracts got burnt, or met with even worse
contumely; they were themselves also treated with the ridicule which
they reflected proudly had been the lot of true followers of Christ
in all ages. Often at their prayer meetings was the passage of St
Paul referred to in which he bids his Corinthian converts note
concerning themselves that they were for the most part neither well-
bred nor intellectual people. They reflected with pride that they
too had nothing to be proud of in these respects, and like St Paul,
gloried in the fact that in the flesh they had not much to glory.
Ernest had several Johnian friends, and came thus to hear about the
Simeonites and to see some of them, who were pointed out to him as
they passed through the courts. They had a repellent attraction for
him; he disliked them, but he could not bring himself to leave them
alone. On one occasion he had gone so far as to parody one of the
tracts they had sent round in the night, and to get a copy dropped
into each of the leading Simeonites' boxes. The subject he had
taken was "Personal Cleanliness." Cleanliness, he said, was next to
godliness; he wished to know on which side it was to stand, and
concluded by exhorting Simeonites to a freer use of the tub. I
cannot commend my hero's humour in this matter; his tract was not
brilliant, but I mention the fact as showing that at this time he
was something of a Saul and took pleasure in persecuting the elect,
not, as I have said, that he had any hankering after scepticism, but
because, like the farmers in his father's village, though he would
not stand seeing the Christian religion made light of, he was not
going to see it taken seriously. Ernest's friends thought his
dislike for Simeonites was due to his being the son of a clergyman
who, it was known, bullied him; it is more likely, however, that it
rose from an unconscious sympathy with them, which, as in St Paul's
case, in the end drew him into the ranks of those whom he had most
despised and hated. _