10
read perfectly well. The strange thing about this is not so much his precocity as the fact that he was 
much less interested in the biblical narratives than in the long Hebrew names. One of his father's 
favourite sermons was based on the fifth chapter of Genesis; long as the patriarchs lived, they all 
died in the end. From this he would argue that his hearers would die too; they had therefore better 
lose no time in making sure of heaven. But the interest of Alick was in the sound of the names 
themselves --- Enoch, Arphaxad, Mahaleel. He often wonders whether this curious trait was 
symptomatic of his subsequent attainments in poetry, or whether it indicates the attraction which 
the Hebrew Cabbala was to have for him later on. 
With regard to the question of salvation, by the way, the theory of the exclusive Plymouth Brethren 
was peculiar, and somewhat trying to a logical mind. They held predestination as rigidly as Calvin, 
yet this nowise interfered with complete freewill. The crux was faith in Christ, apparently more or 
less intellectual, but, since "the devils also believe and tremble", it had to be supplemented by a 
voluntary acceptance of Christ as one's personal saviour. This being so, the question arose whether 
Roman Catholics, Anglicans or even Nonconformists could possibly be saved. The general feeling 
seems to have been that it was impossible for anyone who was once actually saved to be lost, 
whatever he did1. But it was, of course, beyond human power to determine whether any given 
individual had or had not found salvation. This, however, was clear: that any teaching or 
acceptance of false 
{41}  
1. "Of those that thou gavest me have I lost not one, except the son of 
perdition." In view of predestination, "those" means all the elect and not 
merely the Eleven, as the unenlightened might suppose.  
doctrine must be met by excommunication. The leaders of the Brethren were necessarily profound 
theologians. There being no authority of any kind, any brother soever might enunciate any doctrine 
soever at any time, and this anarchy had already resulted, before the opening of our story, in the 
division of the Brethren into two great sects: the Open and the Exclusive. 
Philip Gosse, the father of Edmund Gosse, was a leader among the Open Brethren, who differed 
from the Exclusive Brethren, at first, only by tolerating, at the Lord's table, the presence of 
"Professed Christians" not definitely affiliated to themselves. Edmund Gosse has described his 
father's attitude in Father and Son. Much of what he wrote taxes the credulity of the reader. Such 
narrowness and bigotry as that of Philip Gosse seemed beyond belief. Yet Edward Crowley regarded 
Philip Gosse as likely to be damned for latitudinariansm! No one who loved the Lord Jesus in his 
heart could be so careless of his Saviour's honour as to "break bread"1 with a man who might be 
holding unscriptural opinions. 
Readers of Father and Son will remember the incident of the Christmas turkey, secretly bought by 
Mr. Gosse's servants and thrown into the dustbin by him in the spirit of Moses destroying the golden 
calf. For the Brethren rightly held Christmas to be a pagan festival. They sent no Christmas cards 
and destroyed any that might be sent to them by thoughtless or blaspheming "goats". Not to 
disappoint Alick, who liked turkey, the family had that bird for lunch on the 24th and 26th of 
December. The idea was to "avoid even the appearance of evil"; there was nothing actually wrong in 
eating turkey on Christmas Day; for pagan idols are merely wood and stone --- the work of men's 
hands. But one must not let others suppose that one is complying with heathen customs. 
Another early reminiscence. On February 29th, 1808, Alick was taken to see the dead body of his 
sister, Grace Mary Elizabeth2, who had only lived five hours. The incident made a curious 
impression on him. He did not see why he should be disturbed so uselessly. He couldn't do any good; 
the child was dead; it was none of his business. This attitude continued through his life. He has 
never attended any funeral3 But that of his father, which he did not mind doing, as he felt himself 
to be the real centre of interest. But when others have died, though in two cases at least his heart 
was torn as if by a wild beast, and his life actually blighted for months and years by the 
catastrophe, he has always turned away from the necrological facts and the customary orgies. It 
may be that he has a deep-seated innate conviction that the connection of a person with his body is