When Rowland was 19, his father sent him to Cambridge. He meant him to be a clergyman when he was old enough. But in the meantime it was a terrible grief to the poor old gentleman that his boy should have turned Methodist, and that he should even hear reports of his being a preacher, which he thought, however fitting for a clergyman, was a thorough disgrace to anybody else. Rowland was at Hawkstone in the long summer holidays before he went to Cambridge, and he had a hard time of it as far as his family were concerned, for Richard and Jane seem to have been away from home at that time. Old Sir Rowland heard that there were meetings at a cottage on the estate, and that his son preached there. He hoped this at least might be a false report, and meeting a boy who came from the cottage he asked him who preached at his mother’s house. The boy, who was half-witted, replied, “The young man that fettled mother’s clock.” This was really Rowland, who was in the habit of mending clocks for the poor people, and the boy had never found out he was “the young squire.” Sir Rowland happily thought it must be some clockmaker’s apprentice, and his son escaped this time without further reproof. Rowland went to Cambridge in October, 1764. He wrote a sad letter to Jane a month later. He said he was entirely out of the reach of any of God’s children, had no one to speak to but worldly people, could hear of no place near where the truth was preached, and spent hours in tears, having no choice but “perpetual solitude” or ungodly company. He entreated Jane to send him a picture of Mr. Romaine, which he had left with his brother Richard, or with “Archer.” Giles Archer was Richard’s valet, who was an earnest Christian. Richard had been very diligent in making Christ known amongst the servants. He had supplied the servants’ hall with a Bible, had lent books to the men and the maids, and Archer had become a great help and comfort both to Richard and Jane. When Rowland got Mr. Romaine’s picture, he stuck it up in his room, together with the portraits of Wesley and Whitefield. When we remember how Wesley and Whitefield were by this time “a proverb and a byword” amongst all classes in England, we can understand that young Rowland Hill had learned to value the reproach of Christ, or he would not have hung up these pictures in the face of his scoffing fellow-students. The consequence was, that he was despised, hated, and avoided, so that he says he never got a smile from anyone, in the college, except the old shoe-black, who was a Christian man. We can scarcely suppose he took a blacker view than the case called for, when we read in history the account of those times. Except the few clergymen who had become Methodist preachers, scarcely one was to be found who preached more Christianity than a Hindu or a Muslim would have done. We read of one, who, having mentioned Christ in his sermon, apologized for doing so, because, he said, it was Christmas-day; but he promised his hearers not to allude again to such a subject till that day came round in the following year. One of themselves, writing in the year 1757, tells us, “In the conduct of the clergy they curb not, but promote and encourage the trifling manners of the times. It is grown a fashionable thing among these gentlemen to despise the duties of their parish, to wander about to every scene of false gaiety, to frequent and shine in all public places, their own pulpits excepted. If false pleasure and self interest thus take possession of the heart, how can we expect that a regard for religion and Christianity should find a place there?” These words, which are not those of a Methodist, will help us to understand how sad and lonely Rowland Hill felt amongst the clergymen and students at Cambridge. “Did the writer,” says our old author, “court the applause of his polite readers, he would preface this part of his subject with an apology for the rudeness of hinting at religious principles. To suppose a man of fashion swayed in his conduct by a regard to futurity, is an affront to the delicacy and refinement of his taste.” Rowland had, therefore, to bear the reproach of being an ill-bred, vulgar lad, who knew not how to behave like a gentleman. But it has been true of many, since the days of Moses, that they have esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt. And God be praised that we can say so! Though, at the same time, how worthless is all that we can give up, when compared with the unsearchable riches of Christ, given so freely to all who believe. If the cross and the reproach so far outweigh the treasures of Egypt, what in comparison are the riches of the glory?
Rowland was to stay at Cambridge for the Christmas vacation. Perhaps because of the long journey, perhaps because his parents no longer found pleasure in his company. It must have cheered him, therefore, when one morning the following note was brought to his rooms—
“Grandchester, Tuesday Ev.,
Dec. 18, 1764.
“Sir—Mr. Thomas Palmer” (this was an old Eton friend of Rowland’s) “was at my house last week, and desired me to call upon you when I went to Cambridge. I am now at Grandchester, a mile from you, where I preached last night and this morning, and where I shall abide till three in the afternoon. Will you take a walk over? The weather is frosty, which makes it pleasant under foot. The bearer of this is Mr. Matthews, who lives at Grandchester Mill, at whose house I am. If you love Jesus Christ, you will not be surprised at this freedom taken with you by a stranger, who seeks your acquaintance only out of his love to Christ and His people. I am, for His sake,
“Your affectionate servant,
“JOHN BERRIDGE.”
You can well believe that Rowland at once started off for Grandchester Mill, and was there warmly received by our dear old friend, Mr. Berridge, who invited him to spend the Christmas at Everton, and henceforward every Sunday Rowland rode over to hear Mr. Berridge preach, and to spend as much time at the Vicarage as he could, having to be back in time for college chapel. His letters to Jane now became not only cheerful, but overflowing with happiness. He met numbers of Christian people at Everton Vicarage, and Mr. Berridge himself was just the friend he needed. Jane warned him to be careful not to go too often to Everton, “for,” she said, “should that be discovered, I need not tell you the storm it would raise;” that is to say, Sir Rowland would interfere to rescue his son from such bad company. No doubt poor Jane had much to bear in her own family, but she knew where to find “the refuge from the storm, the shadow from the heat, the rivers of water in the dry place, the shadow of the great rock in the weary land.” Rowland now set about his Master’s work at Cambridge with fresh courage. He told the glad tidings to his fellow-students, to the prisoners in the gaol, to the sick and poor, and he began preaching both in the town and in the villages round. He was encouraged by frequent letters from Whitefield and others, and by the fatherly counsel of Mr. Berridge. He had many meetings in fields and barns, went down to Newmarket to preach at the races, and was in time helped by seven other undergraduates who had been converted through his means. In the vacations he joined Richard in preaching in the neighborhood of Hawkstone. His father and mother continued to oppose him. Sir Rowland kept him short of money, and would not allow him a horse, hoping to set a limit, at least, to his preaching. His mother was even more bitter in her opposition; but to the great joy of Richard, Jane, and Rowland, Elizabeth, who had married a Mr. Tudway, became a believer in Jesus, and little Brian, though only eleven years old, made a bold confession of Christ, and remained faithful to it ever after.
Sometimes in the vacations Rowland was warmly received by Lady Huntingdon, who helped and encouraged him in his difficult path. She was specially interested in the case of some of Rowland’s young friends, who were students at St. Edmund’s Hall, at Oxford. Rowland had sometimes passed through Oxford, and had had conversations and reading with some of the undergraduates. Six of these young men began to meet for reading and prayer at the house of a Christian widow who lived at Oxford. These meetings were discovered, and hints were given to the young men that they would lose their character, would be refused their degrees, and might even be expelled from the University unless they gave up such practices. They thought it, however, cowardly to shrink from disgrace and suffering, and were resolved to take the consequences. They were called before the Vice-Chancellor and others, and, in spite of the remonstrances of Richard Hill, and of the head of St. Edmund’s Hall, they were expelled. The reason given was that they were void of learning, which was not true, and that they had been guilty of praying, singing hymns, and expounding the scriptures in private houses. Lady Huntingdon was accused of having sent them to Oxford, in order that they might preach Methodistical follies, when they should have become clergymen. It seems strange that Rowland Hill was not at the same time expelled from Cambridge; but he had a kind tutor, who interceded for him with the head of his college, and was very anxious that he should remain to take his degree. The master of his college (St. John’s) consented to Rowland’s remaining on the following strange conditions—1. That he should never make any more converts in the University. 2. That he should never go into any house in the town, even to relieve the poor, but give his money through others. Rowland said he would leave at once, rather than remain on such terms, and through the kind entreaties of his tutor, the master gave way. Rowland worked hard for his degree, and took honors, which proves that his preaching and visiting had by no means hindered his studies. He had not neglected either the proper training of his body, a matter which some young men who are fond of study do not sufficiently attend to. “The body is the Lord’s,” and should be kept in order by proper exercise, to be fit for the Lord’s service. Rowland could ride, swim, and skate better than most of his companions, but his heart was in the Lord’s work notwithstanding.
After taking his degree he returned to Hawkstone, where a fresh storm burst upon his head. All his Cambridge education had been intended by his father to fit him to take one of the family livings; and now, when he was ready to be ordained, the Bishop decidedly refused to perform the ceremony. The reason he gave for it was, that Rowland had preached at Methodist meetings, which he ought not to have done, nor in fact ought he to have preached at all, according to the Bishop’s view of the matter. As no other Bishop would ordain him either, there was an end to the plan of the family living, and Sir Rowland was now roused up to the last pitch of displeasure. No path was left for Rowland but to go forth as a wandering Methodist preacher.
In the year 1770 he entered upon the path of labor from which God was now calling away George Whitefield. God gave power to the word preached by Rowland Hill. Lady Huntingdon says, “The Lord blessed his testimony in a very remarkable manner. The word of the Lord runs, and is glorified in the conversion of multitudes. I have attended him at Blackheath and Kennington; thousands and thousands were there, and the most awful and solemn impressions seemed to pervade the vast assemblies. Excepting my beloved and lamented Mr. Whitefield, I never witnessed any person’s preaching wherein there were such displays of the divine power and glory as in Mr. Hill’s. May He who hath raised up this second Whitefield crown his message with success, and keep him faithful to the end.”