The Henson Journals

Fri 30 September 1927

Volume 43, Pages 106 to 108

[106]

Friday, September 30th , 1927.

'There is no contrast between those old days and the present that strikes me so strongly as that suggested by the differences in religious observances: not so much by the world in general as by deeply religious people. I knew the habits of the religious very well, partly through the piety of my mother her friends, the strict religious education of her children, our connection with some of the most distinguished of our devout clergymen. I could mention many practices of our old pious, which would horrify modern zealots. The principles feelings of the persons commonly called evangelical were the same then that they are now: the external acts by which these feelings principles were formerly expressed were materially different. In nothing do these differences appear more strikingly than in matters connected with the observance of Sunday. Hearing what is often confidently prescribed now as the only proper mode of keeping the Christian Sabbath, then recollecting how it was recently kept by Christian men, ought to teach us charity in the enforcement of observances, which, to a certain extent, are necessarily matters of opinion'

v. Henry Cockburn's Memorials of his Time p. 38. This was written in Edinburgh between 1821 the close of 1830.

[107]

Cockburn thinks that ''Religion is certainly more the fashion than it used to be'', that ''there is more said about it'' that ''there has been a great rise, consequently a great competition of sects'': that ''the general mass of the religious public has been enlarged''.

''On the other hand, if we are to believe one half of what some religious persons themselves assure us, religion is now almost extinct. My opinion is that the balance is in favour of the present time. And I am certain that it would be much more so, if the modern dictators would only accept of that as religion which was considered to be so by their devout fathers'' (Ibid. p.40).

He describes the earlier generation as obsessed with the horrors of the French Revolution: but 'younger men of good education were immersed in chemistry and political economy', and 'the lower orders seemed to take no particular concern in anything'. As a boy he was awfully impressed by the apocalyptic diatribes of his elders, but this move did not last:

''My reason no sooner began to open, and to get some fair play, than the distressing wisdom of my ancestors began to fade, the more attractive sense that I met with among the young men into whose company our debating societies threw me, gradually hardened me into what I became – whatever this was" (p. 42).

Lord Cockburn was born in 1779 and died in 1854.

'His whiggism prevented official preferment, but he soon shared with Jeffrey the leadership of the Scottish bar' (v. D. N. B.).

[108]

I worked at the Tynemouth Sermon all the morning. In the afternoon I went to the station, and met Lord Danesfort: with whom I walked for an hour. He is evidently much inclined to vote against the new Prayer Book. Lady Bell came to tea, and I had some talk with her. Also, the new Professor Canon with Mr Mrs Richards called, I showed them the Chapel. I went to the station and met Bishop Talbot Mrs Talbot. They are both become extremely infirm. She is deaf as a post: and he nearly so! I was completely exhausted by an hour's talk with him in my study.

We entertained a party at dinner including the following:

1.Lord Danesfoot

2.Bishop Talbot

3.Mrs Talbot

4.Sir Guy Wrightson

5.Lady Wrightson

6.Mr Forster

7.Mrs Forster

8.Sybil, Lady Eden

9.Geordie Gore

10.Peter Richardson

These with Lionel, Fearne, and ourselves made up a party of 14. Save for the inevitable embarrassment caused by the partial deafness of Bishop Talbot, the total deafness of his wife, all seemed to go well enough.

I had some talk with old Bishop Talbot, but it is neither easy nor altogether prudent to talk with him: for his deafness compels an exclusive physical strain to ensure that he hears what one says: then one's success is so doubtful at all times so partial at best, that there is no security that what one says has been rightly understood.