Frank Palmer, the gentleman whom we saw descend from the coach, was
the eldest son of a wholesale and manufacturing chemist in London.
He was now about five-and-twenty, and having just been admitted as a
partner, he had begun, as the custom was in those days, to travel for
his firm. The elder Mr Palmer was a man of refinement, something
more than a Whig in politics, and an enthusiastic member of the Broad
Church party, which was then becoming a power in the country. He was
well-to-do, living in a fine old red-brick house at Stoke Newington,
with half-a-dozen acres of ground round it, and, if Frank had been
born thirty years later, he would probably have gone to Cambridge or
Oxford.
In those days, however, it was not the custom to send boys
to the Universities unless they were intended for the law, divinity
or idleness, and Frank's training, which was begun at St Paul's
school, was completed there. He lived at home, going to school in
the morning and returning in the evening. He was surrounded by every
influence which was pure and noble. Mr Maurice and Mr Sterling were
his father's guests, and hence it may be inferred that there was an
altar in the house, and that the sacred flame burnt thereon. Mr
Palmer almost worshipped Mr Maurice, and his admiration was not
blind, for Maurice connected the Bible with what was rational in his
friend. 'What! still believable: no need then to pitch it
overboard: here after all is the Eternal Word!'
It can be imagined how those who dared not close their eyes to the light, and yet clung
to that book which had been so much to their forefathers and
themselves, rejoiced when they were able to declare that it belonged
to them more than to those who misjudged them and could deny that
they were heretics. The boy's education was entirely classical and
athletic, and as he was quick at learning and loved his games, he
took a high position amongst his school-fellows. He was not
particularly reflective, but he was generous and courageous,
perfectly straightforward, a fair specimen of thousands of English
public-school boys. As he grew up, he somewhat disappointed his
father by a lack of any real interest in the subjects in which his
father was interested. He accepted willingly, and even
enthusiastically, the household conclusions on religion and politics,
but they were not properly his, for he accepted them merely as
conclusions and without the premisses, and it was often even a little
annoying to hear him express some free opinion on religious questions
in a way which showed that it was not a growth but something picked
up.