John Radcliffe Daily Gleaner, September 9, 1892 REV. JOHN RADCLIFFE It
is with profound regret that we are called |  The body of the deceased was removed
from the hills to the Scotch Kirk in Duke Street yesterday, and the funeral is to take place this morning - the cortege to move from the sacred edifice at 8.30 to the Scotch Cemetery in North Street. |
The
deceased was a native of the north of
Ireland, but there was
Scotch blood in his
veins. When a
probationer in Belfast the
famous schism in the Scotch Church occurred
and threw many pulpits
vacant both at
home and in the colonies. Mr. Radcliffe
was offered the vacancy in the Scotch
Kirk in
this city and came to Jamaica in I848, landing in Kingston on the 7th
December of that year. “I shall
never forget the day when I first
landed in Kingston" he said long after,
“I had looked at it of course
from the sea; and as it lay before
me almost smokeless, almost chimneyless, and
as I could have
lau[ ]ed, almost
crimeless, and hidden almost among trees I
began to feel that I was approaching
one of the Islands of the Blest."
His thought as he drove through the
streets was, "Is it possible
that this
can be the city where gold is trundled
along in barrels - the city which is
a gem in the
Caribbean Seas, the city
of Tom Cringle?” And the refrain which
was the result of his experience
was
“hogs, dogs and
broken bottles." Kingston was then in dismal condition, and the condition of
the
people reflected
their surroundings, as he soon found out
in the course of his ministerial work.
The
Scotch Church had been built in 1813
and was then as it is now one of
the finest
buildings in
Jamaica. Mr Radcliffe soon
attained a reputation by his preaching and
built up the congregation
until it comprised
nearly all the Scotchmen of note in the
city with many others who preferred its
services to the more ornate forms of
worship in the Church of England and
who were attracted
by the brilliant oratory
and evident scholarship of the young divine.
The Collegiate School was
established in
connection with it and supplied a want
that had long been felt. It may be
said that
Mr. Radcliffe was the founder
of secondary education in the Island. He
took personal supervision
of the school, and
brought out such men as Milne and
Morrison to teach in it. It was the
means of
educating a large number of
boys to take responsible positions in life
and the benefits in this
direction still
continue. The school formerly met in what
is now the Collegiate Hall, an adjunct
to
the church which is also a useful
addition to the public halls of the
city. The renovation of this
building cost
about a thousand pounds.
After
an active but uneventful pastoral life Mr
Radcliffe some years ago felt the need
for
assistance, and this was granted him
by the Home Board. The minister-in-charge
at present is the
Rev Donald Davidson.
Of late years Mr Radcliffe was residing
almost constantly on the hills, only
coming
down to the city to preach or take
part in some church function. He continued
to take great
interest up to the last
in educational matters and in every movement
that affected the welfare
of
the Island. But his cast of mind
was literary and contemplative, and while
often sympathising
with the object ol public demonstration he
shrank from putting himself
forward. He occupied the
moments of his
cultured seclusion in writing and study
and at intervals came from his brain
some
beautiful poem, or thoughtful essay.
His
character was one of the finest it has
been our fortune to come across: kind,
generous,
whole-souled, touched with the sadness
that belongs to all poets, and sensitive
to a degree, he
was beloved by those
who knew him in his own circle, and
regarded with affection by many who
had
never even seen him. He was especially
a favourite with young men, and he
reciprocated the
feeling:
we know of those who owe much to
the advice of John Radcliffe, given more
as from a
father to a son than as
from a comparative stranger.
His
personality was striking: who can forget his
well built form, slightly bent at theshoulders,
his
kingly head and snow white locks,
and the pale mobile face that was so
expressive of the
emotions working within?
There was nothing which his congregation
liked so well to see as his
face
in the pulpit; on such days there was
sure to be larger attendance than usual, and strangers
would find their way to
hear the “old man eloquent" on these
occasions. His style was poetical,
his
matter practical - often sternly so -
and his exegetical methods were sometimes
quaintly
original and peculiarly characteristic
of his fearless catholicity of thought. This
trait of his nature
was also exemplified
in the outward acts of his daily life.
He would embrace the late Father Dupont
wherever they met to the disappointment of
those who imagined they would pass each
other with
a scowl. Along with Father
Dupeyron he used to go to the function
of ''double marriages"
considered necessary
to be performed at the time, and on
these occasions the people
would say “There
go the Pope and John Knox!”
The
same broad way of thinking is
manifested in his later poems. Our readers will remember the publication of “Moriendum" several years ago, and the excited discussion which followed in the Press over the alleged heterodox tendency of the lyric. The paper war did not take place over the poem as a work of art. As such it was flawless; it was a palace whose architecture and ornamentation were perfect. It was the indwelling spirit that was taken exception to. It was not Christian; it was heathen - that was the argument. The battle raged long and fiercely and then died gradually out on the abandonment of the field by those who raised the question. The main idea of the poem is of the human will reasoning itself into a belief of a grand future for the soul. When this is accomplished the earthly nature on viewing the initial step to be taken - the passage through the dark valley - shrinks back, and clings to life with all its beauty of land and sea and seasons and music and cultured society,ending with a passionate entreaty for "greater light or greater faith" to render easier the wrench from all that is present and lovely. Unless life has been bitter and hard, and death in consequence, been welcome, there are few men who have not felt the pang of deep regret when leaving this Life, which after all, is so bountiful and full of infinite possibilities, Mr. Radcliffe has simply voiced the universal feeling and shown that he possessed the true instinct of the poet. | “Oculus
Levabo" (“I will lift up mine eyes
unto the hills") which was published in
the last number of the "
Victoria Quarterly*' and is therefore the
last public contribution from his pen, did
not excite so much remark as the
previous poem to which it may be
considered a companion. It is written in
the same metre, and exhibits the same pathetic desire on the part of the
finite nature to pierce the Veil and
obtain assurance of the Beyond.
In the opinion of those best qualified to judge, Mr. Radcliffe occupies the highest position as a poet, he published a volume of poems many years ago in England and they were considered to possess exceptional promise and actual merit. His later efforts have, however, surpassed all his previous verse, and the poems we have mentioned can be said, without the least exaggeration, to be two of the finest of the century. Jamaica never appreciated its one great poet; it does not realise yet that it possessed a genius of the first order in the person of Mr. Radcliffe. We hope to see a collection made of the poems, by someone competent from scholarship and friendship to undertake the task - such for instance as Mr. William Morrison. As
a scholar Mr. Radcliffe ranked very high.
He |
And so the end comes to all, to gentle as to simple, to learned as to uncultured: death spares none. Premonitions of the inevitable came to
the old man, and even years ago his utterances were tinged with the
sadness of farewell. In 1889 he said in public: "Jamaica has been a goodly and kindly land to me, and its memories are such that I could linger over them. But eheu fugaces posthume posthume labuntur anni [alas, Postumus, Postumus, the fleeting years are slipping by - Horace, Ode 2.14 ] rings in mine ear every day with a clearer and nearer sound and forbids me to promise many a thing I would like to undertake. And so with the expression of this gratitude and this resolve I bid you - and very tenderly – farewell." He has gone and we shall not look upon his like again. The loss is ours, the gain is his. He has solved the great problem and gone
behind
''The heavy veil that hangs to hide
That silent and that solemn land
Which seeming near is so unknown,
Which all must enter, each alone –
alone."
We cannot help hoping that he has satisfied the yearning of his spiritual
being, and that where all before was vague imagining there is a vision of
reality, and eternal peace. From the world which he thought so beautiful,
across the dark river to the unseen shore, we who are left throw to him
the one last word - farewell
