I From, a Portrait in the pofsefsion. cf the EevfDaa^Yolscm. THE LIFE OF THE EIGHT EEY. DAXIEL WILSON, D. LATE LOBD BISHOP OF CALCUTTA AND ilETEOPOLITAX OF INDIA. WITH EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNALS AND COERESPOXDEXCE. BY THE REV. JOSIAH "^BATEMAN, M.A., Rector of North Cray, Kent. HIS SOX-IS LAW AND FIRST CHAPLAiy. IN TWO VOLUMES.— VOL. I. WITH PORTRAITS, MAP, AND ILLUSTRATIONS. LO>'DO^' : JOHN MUKRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 1S60. [The right of Translatian is referred.] PRADBTJRT AND EVANS, PRrNTERS, WHITEFEIARS. PREFACE. In his preface, a biographer may be allowed to say a few words concerning himself, and I would fain use this privilege, to deprecate any charge of presumption in undertaking the present work, and to acknowledge my obligations to those friends who, by their contributions, have enriched it. The late Bishop left the copyright of his works, and his private papers, to his son, the Rev. Daniel Wilson, and this would seem to have pointed him out as the Biographer ; but the tie of relationship was deemed too close to admit of that freedom of speech, and impartial exhibition of character, without which the records of a life are valueless. It was necessary, therefore, to select a substitute ; and in this selection, the combination of personal knowledge, rela- tionship near enough yet not too near, some ecclesiastical expedience, and a familiarity with Indian life and customs, were deemed desirable, if not indispensable qualifications. Thus it fell out that the duty was assigned to me ; and, coming unsought, it was not declined. The delicacy and difficulty of the undertaking were suf- ficiently obvious. To draw a likeness when the expression was iv PREFACE. continually varying, to describe a character far above the common standard, to preserve a just balance between the inner life with God and the outer walk with man, to touch con- troversy on many points without awakening or at least embittering it, to discuss the proceedings of great religious Societies without doing harm, to speak of individuals without giving pain, to tell the whole story " without partiality and without hypocrisy : " — all this, and much more was requisite, and how could I not but painfully feel my own incompetency, and my need of that wisdom which is from above, and which is " first pure, then peaceable ? " For nearly two years, however, I have given myself to the work with all diligence, and in humble reliance upon the guidance and the grace of God. He has been pleased to continue the leisure, and bestow the health which were alike indispensable. May He now vouchsafe to give the blessing, and make the finished work tend to the good of His Church and the glory of His great name. The various sources from whence the information wrought up into this Biography was deiived, are pointed out in the book itself. It will sufiice, therefore, here to say, — that every state- ment rests upon direct and undoubted testimony. To the counsel and advice of friends in doubtful matters, I have been much indebted, but the final decision in every case, and the undivided responsibility, rests with myseK alone. I wish that the name of my brother, the Eev. Daniel Wilson, could have appeared with my own upon the title-page, as calcu- lated to give authority to the work, and confidence to the reader ; but he was unwilling to take (as he was pleased to say) PREFACE. V the credit, T\'ithout sharing the labour. Every word, however, has passed under his eye, and met, generally speaking, his approbation. This was his wish ; and to this he was entitled, as the chief guardian of his father's honour. The verdict of the public must necessarily be a subject of great uncertainty and some anxiety. Feeling the impossibility of pleasing all, I only venture to profess honesty of purpose, and to express a hope that the acknowledged difficulty of the under- taking will be allowed to plead on my behalf, and procure pardon from those who may detect faults, and indulgence from those who may feel disappointment. ^ It only remains for me gratefully to acknowledge my obliga- tions to those who have so readily placed letters and papers of various kinds at my disposal, and have been otherwise assisting during the progress of this work. I am indebted to the Marquis Cholmondeley for many important letters : to the family of the late Rev. Dr. Pearson, Dean of Salisbury, to Mrs. Stone and Mrs. Ashby, surviving daughters of the late Rev. John Eyre, and to Mr. Vardy, Jun., for access to early and authentic documents: to Lady Malkin, Mrs. Foljambe, Miss Wilson and Mrs.-Drew, daughters of the late George Wilson, Esq., to my own immediate relatives, to the representatives of the late Rev. C. Jerram and Rev. William Jowett, to H. Harford, Esq., of Blaise Castle, to Miss Cecil, to the Rev. J. W. Cun- ningham, the Rev. Francis Cunningham, the Rev. Henry Venn, the Rev. Henry Elliott, the Rev. John Hambleton, the Rev. S. C. Wilks, the Rev. Thomas Harding, the Rev. George Clayton, and the Rev. J. Tarlton for numerous letters, valuable advice, and interesting anecdotes : to the venerable PEEPACE. Dr. Marsh, Mr. Bridges, Mr. Clifton, and Mr. Woodward for oral communications : and above all to Archdeacon Pratt for two thousand five hundred folio pages of important records, copied at my request and under his own eye, from the archives of the diocese of Calcutta, To all these friends, I would desire to express grateful acknowledgments. They will find, I trust, that their confidence has not been abused, nor their advice neglected. J. BATEMAN. North Cray Rectory, Kent, November 17, 1S59. CONTENTS. CHAPTEE I. EARLY LIFE. 1778—1796. The Wilson family — Parentage of Daniel Wilson — School days — Apprenticeship — William Wilson — Employments — Journals — Leisure hours — Account of himself and of others — Important conversation — Religious convictions — Letters to Mr. Eyre — To his mother — Breakfast with Rev. John Newton — State of mind — Second interview with Mr. Newton — His pious grandfather — Joseph Wilson — Sympathy and instructions of Mr. Eyre — Letters — Clouds — First Communion — Sunshine ....... CHAPTER II. CALL TO THE MINISTRY. 1796—1798. The deep foundations of religion — Subject of his call to the ]\Iinistry opened — Letters to Mr. Eyre — His father's refusal of his wish — His own reasons — Consults^ Rev. Rowland Hill — Journal — Consults Rev. R. Cecil — Father consents — Enters at Oxford — Pupil of Rev. J. Pratt .... CHAPTER III. STUDENT LIFE. 1798. Rev. J. Pratt — Studious habits — Letters — Attempts at doing good — Family Prayers — Journals — Attainments ........ CHAPTER ly. COLLEGE LIFE. 179S— ISOl. State of the University — St. Edmund's Hall — His friends — Rev. J. Crouch — Journals — Scriptural discussions — Vacation — Letters— Expenses — Tender- ness of Conscience — Confii-mation — Long Vacation — Journal — Cousin Anne viii CONTENTS, — Reminiscences — Plan of study at home— Correspondence — Prospect of a Curacy — Examination— Degree— University Prize— Heber and Wilson — Common sense ....... CHAPTER V. CHOBHAM. 1801—1803. Chobham and Bisley — Rev. R. Cecil— Parishioners and Visitors— Preaching- Mr. Pearson — Cecil's manner — Latin Journal — Ordination at Farnham — Reflections— First Sermons —Success— Sketch of Sermons— Indications of Character— Prospect of Tutorship — Of Marriage — Letter of William Wilson — Journal — Farewell Sermon — London — His Marriage .... CHAPTER YI. FAMILY LIFE. 1803—1832. Journal — Mrs. Wilson — Birth of his Children — Happy Household — Domestic Character — Troubles — Death of Little Ann — Illness and Death of his Youngest Child — Two elder Boys at Worton — Letters to them at School and College— Ordination, Preferment, and Marriage of his Eldest Son — Narrative of his Second Son — Descendants ...... CHAPTER VII. OXFORD AND WORTON. 1804—1809. Assistant Tutorship at Oxford — Reflections — Retirement of Mr. Crouch — Sole Tutor — His Pupils — His Manner — "Bands Wilson" — His Independent Character — Latin Appeal — Discussion in Convocation — His Walk before God — Sunday at Worton — Nature of the Curacy — Sense of Responsibility — Oxford Vacations — Manner — Preaching — Results of Preaching — Mr. William Wilson, of Worton — Memorial — Call to St. John's, Bedford Row — Difficulties — Final Settlement — Retrospect 1 CHAPTER VIII. LITERARY LIFE. 1810—1831. Habits and tastes — Library — Prize Essay — Sermon on Obedience — Funeral sermon for Mr. Cecil — Style — Conversation with Bellingham— On Confir- mation and Lord's Supper— Funeral sermons for Mr. Cardale, Mrs. Cardale, and Rev. W. Ooode — Pamphlet on Society for Promoting Christian Know- CONTENTS. ix ledge — Controversies on the subject — Sermon on Regeneration — Views on Regeneration — Offence to tlie University — Political views — Sermons to children — Anniversary sermon for Church Missionary Society — Pamphlet in defence of Church Missionary Society — Volume of Sermons — Doctrinal views — Anecdote — Prayer-book and Homily Society — Funeral sermons for the Rev, Thomas Scott — Prefaces to Adam's ''Private Thoughts," Butler's "Analogy," Wilberforce's "Practical Christianity," Baxter's "Reformed Pastor," Quesnel on "the Gospels" — Dr. Chalmers — "Letters from an absent brother" — Evidences of Christianity — Hannah More — Roman Catholic Emancipation — Sir R. Peel — Letters to "Christian Observer" — Sir J. Mackintosh — Dr. Chalmers — Mr. Simeon— Sermons on Lord's Day — Funeral sermons for Mr. Charles Grant, Rev. S. Crouch, Rev. B. Woodd — Contro- versy with Dr. Burton . . . . . . . . . .1-33 CHAPTEE IX. ST. JOHN'S. 1811—1824. Origin of St. John's Chapel— Dr. Sacheverel — Closing of St. John's Chapel — Manner in the pulpit — Composition of Sermons — Anecdote of a French pastor — Number of Sermons — Courses of Sermons — Lost MSS. — Congregation — Distinguished auditors — First impressions — Extensive usefulness — Dr. Buchanan — Canon Dale — Basil Woodd — Correspondence— Question of Law — Confirmation — Collections — District Visiting Society — Auxiliary Bible Society — Visits to Oxford, Norfolk, Birmingham, Dublin, Armagh, Bristol, Manchester, Staffordshire, North "Wales, Liverpool, Buckinghamshire, Northampton»liire, Cambridge, Halifax, Huddersfield, Casterton, Leeds, Knaresborough, Channel Islands, France — Anecdotes — Opinions on various subjects — French translations — Eclectic Society — Failure of health — Conti- nental tour — Dangerous illness — Recovery — Becomes Vicar of Islington . 171 CHAPTER X. ISLINGTON. 1824— 1S32. Living of Islington — Dr. Strahan — Successor for St. John's — Letter from Mr. Pratt — His own impressions — Anticipations of the Parishioners — Parochial matters — Vestry meetings — Additional services — New churches — Public appeal— Prayer — Bishop of London — Church Commissioners— Sites— Plans — Curates — Schools — Pastoral address— Lectureship Vestries — Guildford — Journals— Illness of Mrs. Wilson — Her Death— Confirmation — New library — Personal habits — Consecration of new churches — Proprietary school — The Apocrypha controversy — Newfoundland School Society— Parish troubles — Mr. Churchwarden Woodward— Bishop Turner — Charles Grant — First idea of Bishopric of Calcutta— Interview with Mr. Charles Grant — Appoint- ment to Calcutta — Interview vdih Lord Grey — Consecration at Lambeth — Reflections — Eclectic Society — Attendance at Court — Visit to Famham Chapel— Islington Testimonials— Departure from Islington . . .231 VOL. I. I X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XT. THE VOYAGE TO INDIA. 1832. PAGE Portsmoutb — The James Sihhald — Occurrences on the Voyage — Religious ser- vices—Four German missionaries — The singing sailor-boy — Studies — Correspondence — Cape Town — Hospitalities — Visitation of the Schools — Infant School — Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge — Ordination — Confirmation — Departure from Cape Town — Correspondence — Sickness — The Hooghly— Welcome to India 295 CHAPTEE XTI. INDIA. 1832—1834. Jurisdiction of the Indian Episcopate — Its state on his arrival — First difficulty — How settled — First Sermons in the Cathedral — Correspondence -with the Archdeacons and others — Marriage of his daughter — His Domestic Life and Personal Habits — Residence atTittaghur — Bishops Heber and Turner — Lord W. Bentinck, Governor- General — Ecclesiastical Questions — Free School — Lent Lectures — Clerical Meetings — Bishop's College — Ordinations — Confir- mations— Native Baptisms — Infant Schools — Steam Communication — Begum Sumroo's fund — The new Charter — Church-building fund for India — Mar- riage and Divorce among native Christians — Relation of the Chaplain to the Government and the Bishop— -The Indian climate — Correspondence . 313 CHAPTEE XIII. PRIMARY VISITATION. 1834—1835. Bishop's Charge — Voyage to Penang — Scenery — Productions — Population — Episcopal review — Penang hill — Singapore — Church building — Schools — Landing at Malacca — Joss House — Dutch Church — Moulmein — Consecration of the Church — Ceylon : its troubled State — Marriage Licences — Bible Translations — Dutch Proponents — Cotta — Splendid scenery — Kandy — Ancient Temple — King's Palace — Bhtid's tooth — Interview -with Adigars and Priests — Baddegame — Severe storm — Landing at Madras — Southern missions — Caste question — Tan j ore — Conference with the Natives— Swartz — Trichinopoly — Correspondence « 389 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. VOL. I. PORTRAIT OP BISHOP WILSON, BY T. PHILLIPS, R.A. . . {FrOntisplece) PAGE THE bishop's birthplace IN SPITALFIELDS 3 OHOBHAM CHURCH IN 1801 . 78 UPPER WORTON CHURCH IN 1804 120 ST. John's chapel^ Bedford row, with dwelling-house in chapel street 172 islington parish church 238 stbawberry hill, penang 397 triumphal arch, ceylon 414 TRINCOMALEE, CEYLON 420 INTERIOR OP MISSION CHURCH AT TANJORE, WITH GRAVES OF SWARTZ AND OTHER EARLY MISSIONARIES .463 MISSIONARY SCENE AT MUTTOOPUTTY, ON THE COLEROON RIVER, MADRAS . 474 CHAPTER 1. EARLY LIFE. 1778—1796. The Wilson family — Parentage of Daniel Wilson — School clays — Apprenticeship — William Wilson — Employments — Journals — Leisure hours — Account of himself and of others — Important conversation — Religious convictions — Letters to Mr. Eyre -To his mother — Breakfast with llev. John Newton — State of mind — Second interview with Mr. Newton — His pious grandfather — Joseph Wilson — Sympathy and instructions of Mr. Eyre — Letters — Clouds — First Communion — Sunshine, The ^ name of Daniel Wilson has been more or less promi- nently before the Church for fifty years. He was the eldest son of Stephen AVilson and Ann Collett West, and was born in Church Street, Spitalfields, on July 2nd, 1778. For many generations the Wilson family has been settled at Stenson, a hamlet of Barrow-cum-Twyford, near Derby.' In the register books of the parish it may be traced up to the 3^ear 1657, when, those records ceasing, the clue is lost : and as a somewhat curious coincidence, in connection with this biogi'aph}^ it may be noted that in the year 1082-8, there is the entry of a marriage solemnised " j^er dominum Danielem Wilson." Prosj)erous in their affairs, they gradually rose from tenant farmers, to be landowners in their own right, and free- ^ One of the last acts of the Bishop of Calcutta was to send 50/. as a donation towards the erection of a vicarage house in the parish above referred to, on the appli- cation of Ambrose Moore, Esq., a near relative. yoL. I. B 2 THE LIFE OF DA^'1EL WILSON. [chap. i. holders of the county. The custom seems to have been, always to keep the eldest son at home to succeed in due thne to the farm; and then, giving the younger sons the best education possible, to send them into the wide world of commerce. Participating in the growing spirit of enterprise which has pervaded the country diuing the last century, and upholding the family character for integiity and abihty, many of these younger sons have attained high rank in the commercial world, reaHsed large fortunes, and become possessors of considerable landed estates. Amongst them, Stephen Wzlsox, held an honom'ed place. He lived for some years in Spitalfields, carrying on the busi- ness of a silk manufacturer. From thence he removed in the year 1798, to No. 12, Goldsmith Street, Clieapside. For some time he had a country house, called iMarsh Gate, at Homerton ; and finally resided till his death in New Ormond Street, Piussell Square. He was a gentleman, a true Christian, a kind father, and a good master; methodical in his habits, and somewhat quick in his temper. In middle life he was grievously afflicted with asthma, and died of that complaint on the 7th of December, 1813 ; aged 60 yesLVS. His wife, Ann Collett "West, before referred to, survived him many years. She belonged to a highl}^ respectable famil}^ who had been intimate with the Rev. George Whitfield; and her father, Daniel West, was appointed one of his trustees. In early life she had chosen " the better part," and subsequently became an exemplary wife, an affectionate mother, and a careful mish'ess. She died in the faith of Christ, on the 3rd of June, 1829. At his birth their son Daniel was a weakly child, and w^as placed out to nurse in the country. But after a few jesLVS this early delicacy entirely passed away, and he grew up a healthy vigorous boy, with a firm step, buoj^ant spirits, and a handsome, intellectual countenance. A few traditionary stories of his early days still linger m the memory of friends, but they are not worthy of preservation. He himseK records the fact that when at school, and sensible of some transitory impressions of religion, he used to get upon a chaii', select a text, and preach sermons to his schoolfellows. BISHOP WILSON'S BIRTHPLACE, .-i . J -:.L.- .i.. Vcl. I , page 3 1778— 9G.] EAELY LIFE. 3 When lie returned to England for Lis health in 1845-0, he visited on one occasion the house where he was horn, pointing out the hroad oak railing of the staircase down which he used to slide, and enquiring as to the fate of one of a group of mulherry trees at the bottom of the garden, which he instantly missed. It was one of those good, roomj-, and comfortable houses which abound in the old-fashioned parts of London ; and the sight of it seemed to recal to his mind many of the pleasing reminiscences of childhood. At the age of seven years he was sent to a preparatory school at Eltham in Kent, kept by a Mr. and Mrs. Searle : and from thence, in his tenth year, he was removed to Hackney, and placed under the care of the Rev. John Ej-re. Mr. EjTe had been curate to the Eev. Eichard Cecil at Lewes, for a short time, about the year 1778 ; and was now the pious and liighly respected minister of an episcopal chapel at Homerton, .erected in 1729, and commonly called "Ram's Chapel," from Mr. Ram, v^ho had built and endowed it for the service of the Church of England. There were but six or eight pupils in the school when Daniel Wilson joined it. His master soon appreciated his character, and said, " There is no milk-and-water in that boy ; he will be something either very bad or very good." A fit of idleness and perversity one day seized him, and he would neither do his accustomed work, nor an imposition which had been set him as a punishment. His master, passing through the room, saw him idling at his desk, and said, " Daniel, you are not worth flogging, or I would flog you." Not worth flogging ! It stirred the boy's pride, and he was never in similar disgrace again during all the years he stayed. Pie became persevering and indefatigable. Finding himself unable to do his appointed work one morning, he stedfastly refused to join the family at dinner, sajdng, "No; if my head will not work, my body shall not eat." Before long he became the delight and pride of his master, v.ho always spoke of him as possessing an intellect of the highest order, and used to tell how, when his own theme was written, he would sit down and write themes for the duller boys, var3ing the matter, but keeping to the point, in all. Under Mr. Eyre, Greek, Latin, B 2 4 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. I. and French, were grappled with, and the usual elements of a sound and useful education acquired. The affection mani- fested on the one side, was thoroughly reciprocated on the other ; and his " dear master " was often consulted hy Daniel Wilson in the emergencies of after-life. He remained at school till June 1792, when he had nearly attained the age of fourteen ; and on the 4th December in the same year, was taken into the warehouse of Mr. William Wilson, and hound to him in the way then usual, for seven j^ears. A new world thus opened before him ; he had but to follow in the track already marked out, and stores of wealth lay at his feet. Mr. William Wilson was his near relative by blood, and his maternal uncle by marriage. He was an extensive silk manu- facturer and merchant. A strict and just man, he claimed " unhmited obedience " from all who served him ; and expected the same industry and perseverance which he manifested himself. He was a widower with seven children, and resided at his place of business in Milk Street, Cheapside, ordering his household in the fear of God, keeping holy the Lord's Day, and conscientiously availing himself of the ordinances of the Church. In his establishment, preferment followed merit. Every one was honourably dealt with ; but very little allowance was made for boyish levity or impulse. As an illustration of the strict discii)line enforced, one who entered the warehouse soon after this time, testifies, that sometimes for weeks together he never put his hat on ; and that more than three years elapsed before his first hoHday was granted. But Daniel Wilson himself shall speak of these times, for they have an important bearing on his early life. * My parents ' he says, * for the first years of their marriage, were a kind of loose Church people, from the want of piety in their parish ministers, attending regularly at ]\[r. Romaine's of Blackfriars Church in the morning of the Sunday, and at the Tabernacle, I suppose, in the evening. When their young family made the distance from Blackfriars inconvenient, the}^ attended at a dissenting meeting-house in their neighbourhood in the morning, and at Spitalfields Church in the evening. My schoolmaster, however, being a clergyman, though not 1778—96.] EARLY LIFE. 5 strictly regular, I vras accustomed to the Clmrch service during the four years of my residence with him. When I went to live with my uncle, before I w^as fourteen, an entire change took place in these respects, for he was a strict and conscientious Churchman, attending first Mr. Eomaine, and after his death Mr. Crowther of Christ Church, Newgate Street, Mr. Cecil, Mr. Scott, and Mr. Basil Woodd. My prejudices therefore (for I had no religion) were then in favour of the Church of England, and though the predilection was slight before I w^ent to college, it became from the moment I entered the university, so deeply conscientious, that I have never done any one act inconsistent with the bonds of that communion from that period.' The records of his first three years of service are somewhat scanty. His daily duties are described in the following letter to a school companion, named Vardy, with whom for a short time he carried'on an active correspondence : — 'Feh. 16, 1797. *My individual employment is not laborious, but it is constant. Our usual hours of work are from six o'clock in the morning till eight o'clock in the evening in the summer ; and from seven o'clock in the morning till eight in the evening in the winter. So that you see I have but little time to myself. After eight o'clock, in general, I am at liberty to read or wTite alone, till supper time, which is at half-past eight o'clock, or a quarter to nine, and after this I sit reading witli the family till ten o'clock, when my uncle calls them to prayers, and all go to bed. But as my leisure moments were by these regulations exceedingly circumscribed, I have alwaj^s been accustomed to spend a couple of hours in my room before I retired to rest. Then I used constantly to study ni}^ Latin and Frencli, so that I was making considerable progress in both.' The Journals of a cousin who was his intimate friend at this time, and who still happily survives, will give a further insight into his movements at this time. The following are extracts : — ' 1794, Dec. 30. Went with Daniel to Messrs. Goslings in Fl^et Street. 6 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSO^\ [cnAP. I. ' Tuesday. Daniel called, went with him to Wood Street. * Saturday. Went with Daniel to Cornhill with a bill, w^liich was returned. ' Tuesday. Daniel called, went with him to the Chapter Coffee-house. ' Wednesday. Daniel called, he went with me to the banker's.' Thus we have a glimpse of him in the City. We may also see him at the desk ; for in the hours stolen, as he mentions, from sleep, not only were Latin and French kept up, but English composition was diligently practised. An old manu- script book affords the proof. It is filled with essays of various kinds, some on the truth of the Scriptures, and some on moral subjects, after the manner of the Spectator, with appropriate mottos. There are also various translations from old devo- tional Latin w^orks. All are written in the clearest hand, as if prepared for the press ; and they manifest a love of literatoire and a skill in composition very unusual under similar circum.- stances. The ore would crop out. In another point of view, however, his character during these three years appears to have developed itself unfavourably. The following is the account he gives of himself in the year 1796 :— * As far back as I can remember, my whole heart was given to sin. Even when a boy at school, when particular circum- stances recur to my mind, I am shocked at the dreadful depravity of my nature as it then discovered itself. I have indeed proceeded in a regular progression from the lesser sins of bad books, bad Avords, and bad desires, to the grosser atrocities of those emphatically known by "the lusts of the flesh." I was constantly acting against a better knowledge. I had received a rehgious education, and had been accustomed to a regular attendance on public ordinances. I could criticise a sermon, and talk and dispute about particular notions ; but I loved my sins, and could not bear to part with them. I never had gone so far as to deny any one doctrine of the Gospel. I acknowledged them to be true, but for want of that necessary attendant, self-application, I could hear whole sermons — but 1778—96.] EARLY LIFE. 7 not a word belonged to me ! I took a false idea of the Gospel, and from this distorted view, dogmatically pronomiced it out of my power to do anything ; and so, hushing my conscience with "having done all I could," I remained very quietly the willing slave of sin and Satan.' This witness against himself may no doubt be true ; and it is to a certain extent confirmed by the testimony of cotempo- raries. One of these was himself in early life an attendant at the Sunday evening lecture in Spitalfields Chui'ch, founded by the Weavers' Company, and preached alternately for three years at a time, by the Rev. R. Cecil and the Rev. J. Foster. This lecture, Mr. William Wilson and his family used to attend, sitting in thq rector's pew. Our informant sat with them, and his attention was drawn to Daniel Wilson by the marked irrevereu-ee he showed during divine service. Whilst others were standing or kneeling, he would be sitting in a careless, lounging manner, and often laughing and talking. It was understood also at the time that he was sceptical in his views. He himself acknowledges that he lived entirely without prayer ; others testify that he scoffed at it, saying that " it rose no higher than the ceiling." If it was so, the fault was in the heart rather than in the head. Religion v.-as disliked, not disbelieved. The feelings were perverted, not the intellect. These considerations will afford a clue to some of the remarks which have gone before, and to others which will follow. The age in which he Hved, was, in fact, characterised by coarse infidelity. He was sur- rounded by the temptations of a great metropolis. His temper was impetuous, his passions were strong, and his companions, more or less, like-minded. And there can be little doubt that, for a time, in early life, he " walked in the counsel of the ungodly, and stood in the way of sinners, and sat in the seat of the scornful." But a great change was at hand ! The full tide of business is flowing through the warehouse in Milk Street ; fiive hundred weavers in succession, of all ages and both sexes, are depositing their finished work or seeking more, customers are hurrying in and out, books are being posted, 8 THE LIFE OP DANIEL WILSON. [CUAP. I. bills negociated, and a colossal fortune reared. The master's e3^e is everywhere, and in his presence all is order and decorum. But when the day draws to a close and he retires, restraint is thrown off and discipline relaxed. The young men gather together, conversation is let loose, jokes are practised, words are unguarded, disputation is aroused. The topic of religion is familiar to them, and is commonly discussed without reserve. One finds his amusement in it, a second quiets con- science by it, and a third excuses sin. Amongst them is Daniel Wilson, with high intellect, high powers, high aspira- tions—all checked and held down by Self — in some of its linked forms of self-esteem, self-will, or self-indulgence. Such was his natural character. The Grace of God began to w^ork upon this character; and a conflict ensued between the old nature and the new ; between the flesh and the spirit ; which never ceased till death. It is this work of Grace, leading to true conversion, which has now to be considered ; and Daniel Wilson shall himself describe the process. He is writing to his friend Mr. Vardy on November 2d, 1796, and he says : — * One evening (March 9th, 179G) I was as usual engaged in wicked discourse with the other servants in the warehouse, and religion happening (humanly speaking, I mean) to be started, I was engaged very warmly in denying the responsibility of mankind, on the supposition of absolute election, and the folly of all human exertions, where grace was held to be irresistible. (I can scarcely proceed for wonder that God should have upheld me in life at the moment I was cavilling and blas- pheming at his sovereignty and grace.) We have a young man in the warehouse whose amusement for many years has been entirely in conversing on the subject of religion. He was saying that God had appointed the end — he had also appointed the means. I then happened to say, that I had none of those feelings towards God which he required and approved. " Well, then," said he, " pray for the feelings." I carried it off with a joke, but the words at tlie first made some impression on my mind, and thinkiug that I would still sa}^ that " I had done all I 1773—96.] EARLY LIFE. 9 could," when I retired at night I began to pray for the feelings. It was not long before the Lord in some measure answered my prayers, and I grew very uneasy about my state.' This uneasiness led him to immediate action. There was none of that concealment or delay so common and so hurtful to the growth of conviction in the soul. On the 9th March it might be said of him, as it w^as said of St. Paul, *' Behold he prayeth;" and on the third day after, that is, on the 11th March, he was conferring with Mr. Eyre, as with another Ananias, on the "things that accompany salvation." The effect of prayer was most strikingly manifested in his case. God heard in heaven his dwelling-place, and every religious feeling prayed for, was roused at once to life and action. But all was confusion. His eyes were opened, but he saw nothing clearly. And those very arguments which served to exclude truth before, now stood as stumbling-blocks in his search after it. His first letter to ]\Ir. Eyre under these circumstances, deserves an attentive perusal ; for few young persons, when thus brought suddenly under conviction of sin, arc able to describe the tumult of their minds so clearly. 'iVarchU, 1796. ' I hope you will excuse my freedom while I lay before you in a simple manner the state of my mind. In consequence of the religious education I have received, I am theoretically acquainted with the leading features of the Gospel, and though I acknowledge with sluime how little practical influence they produce on my conduct, I have never rejected one doctrine of the Gospel, neither have I imbibed an}^ of the pernicious principles of Socinians or any other heretical sect. * But what is to me a great stumbling-block is the idea which I have entertained, on the supposition of its general reception among the Calvinists, concerning election. This doctrine I have conceived to mean that all the true children of God are elected by God before the foundation of the world. Now, my wicked heart argues thus : — If this be true, how can the endeavours of a weak man assist or impede the accomplish- 10 TPIE LIFE OF DANIEL WJLSON. [chap. I. merit of the divine decrees ? If God liatli fore-ordained tliat I shall be brought to a knowledge of Himself, how can anything I do or say prevent the designs of His omnipotent will? Thus do I sometimes think to myself. 'Another thing which my mind works upon, is the idea, that good works are inefficacious to salvation, which depends on the conversion of the heart to God; and therefore, before any external reformation can be of any use, a change must be produced in my mind. In consequence of this idea impressing me, I venture to kneel before the Lord, and entreat Him, as sincerely as I can, to send those feelings into my heart, that it may be changed from its present pursuits to those of a heavenly natm-e. But alas ! I find it extremely difficult to collect my thoughts, and when I utter words with my mouth, my heart seems but little engaged. When I rise from my knees and open the sacred Word of God, I endeavour to ejaculate a petition that God would open my eyes to understand His truth, and open my heart to receive it ; but alas ! I find it a dead letter. I scarcely know what part to refer to, and when I have read one or two chapters, I discover no sensible difference in my feelings. I then perhaps think of throwing off my concern about religion, and determine to mix in the world, and be as cheerful as I used to be ; but my mind revolts at the idea. I ask myself, will such conduct last ? AVhen fifty or sixty years have passed over my head, what shall I think then? * In a word, I know not what to do. I feel no love to God or Christ. I do not see the wickedness of my sins in such a hideous light as my conscience says I ought. My heart is hard. I find more pleasure in the enjoyments and levities of this world than in thoughts of futurity. What I have done, I am afraid is insincere. For though I refrain from any outward acts of sin, my mind is for ever mingling in the worst scenes of wickedness. I know not what to do. But I have resolved to write to you as a person who I have the greatest reason to think has a sincere regard for my present and future welfare, and I beg your consideration of my case, and hope you will pity and advise me. * What I think that I most want to know is : — Whether a conscientious reformation of my outward life is in the least 1778—96.] EARLY LIFE. 11 accessory to my future safety ? Yvlietlier the endeavouring to lift up my heart to God in prayer when it is cold towards Him, is not daring presumption ? And what part of the Scriptures you would particularly recommend to my perusal ? ' P. S. I scarcely know whether it he not too great a boldness in me to send you this ; but trusting in your indulgent love towards me, I venture to send it, as I consider you the only friend I can unbosom myself to with freedom. I feel a backwardness in acquainting my dear parents with my feelings, and soliciting their advice. I can only add that if you think it would be better for me to speak to them, I certainly shall think myself bound to do it, for they have ever been to me most kind and indulgent. ' D. W.' The anxious ^ate of his mind may be gathered from the fact that although this letter was written on the 11th ]\Iarch, and he had since seen Mr. Eyre personally, yet he writes again on the IGth as follows : — " Since I saw you on ^Monday my situation is but little altered. I feel the seeds of wickedness as strong as ever, and although they do not burst forth in profane or unbecoming expressions, or in wicked actions, yet my thoughts are too much allied to the world, and too little fixed on eternal things. If any worldly subject is talked of in my hearing, I find my vile heart hankering after it ; and though I have been enabled (dare I sa}^ by God's grace ?) to abstain from opening my lips, yet my Bible says that God searcheth the heart, and if such be the case, I am sure my transgressions are infinitely increased every day I live. * I often think of what you said, " Is not sin your burden ? " But my heart answers, or I think it answers, " I would wish to feel this burden, but, woe is me, I do not." Sometimes in the daytime when sitting at the books, or walking in the streets, I endeavour to pray for an interest in the Saviour : but alas, I feel little need of Him, and my blind mind cannot discern how I am to know that God will accept me, and blot out my sins thraugh the blood of Christ. In short, I utter words with my 12 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap, I. lips ; I groan and sometimes weep over my situation ; and yet I can refer it to no cause.' It might be expected that his parents wouki soon be made acquainted with the state of his mind; and so it was. An immediate and anxious enquiry seems to have been addressed to him by his pious mother, to wdiich he responds as follows : — 'April 7, 1796. * I have received your letter, and would answer in sincerity your solemn query, How^ is it between God and your soul ? ' What shall I say ? How is it between the great omnipotent God, the creator and preserver of my life, in whom I live and move and have my being ; and the soul of me, a worm of the earth, who exists only at His will ? Awful thought ! *But this is not all. How is it between a just and holy God ; a God of infinite purity, and my soul full of corruption and pride ? How can I answer such a query ? ' But when I add to these considerations, that whilst this God has been blessing me with the blessings of His providence, whilst He has been continuing me in life and preserving me from every danger, I have been transgressing against Him in the most aggravated manner, against light and knowledge, and even now daily transgress against Him : — I say, wdien I think on this question in connection with these ideas, I am con- founded and know not what to reply. * This I know and feel: that I have forfeited His favour; that in me does not my help lie ; that the curse of God is upon me ; and that it is because He is God and not man, that it has not long ago been executed. This also I am sensible of, that the curse may be executed this night, that my breath is in my nostrils, and that if I this night should be cut olf, I should sink — where ? Into that tremendous place where the " worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched." ' But I have cried- unto the Lord for mercy, and do en- deavour still to cry unto Him from, as it were, the very mouth of hell. And I have some faint hopes that the Lord will be merciful unto me and bless me. And this pursuit I hope and 1778— 9C.] EAJRLY LIFE. 13 trust I shall never relinquish till I am blessed with an answer of peace. ' Oh ! my dear mamma, it is not the pleasures of this life, nor the possession of its vain riches or honours which I seek after. No ; hut it is even the happiness of my immortal soul, which must exist for ever and ever. Oh ! may the word Eternity never enter my ears without impressing my heart.' On the 20th April, Daniel Wilson had an interview with the Rev. John Newton, rector of St. Mary Woolnoth, to whom his uncle's family and his own were affectionately attached, and whose ministry they often attended. It was the custom of that excellent clergyman to open his house for religious pur- poses on every Tuesday and Saturday evening. On Saturday evenings, several of the London clergy regularly met there : on Tuesday evening-e^he received (to use his own words) ''Parsons, Parsonets, and Parsonettas." On these occasions some reli- gious subject was freely discussed and conversed upon, and the meeting closed with prayer. Mr. Newton had also his breakfast-parties, open to friends by invitation. They were perhaps the most edifying ; for the good old man, in his velvet cap and damask dressing-gown, was then fresh and communicative, always, instructive, always benevolent. His expositions of Scripture with his family, which consisted of a niece, some aged servants, and some poor blind inmates of his house, were peculiarly simple and devout. It was to one of these, no doubt, that Daniel Wilson was invited. He was greatly interested with what passed, and sent a xery full account of it to Mr. EjTe, as follows : — ' I this morning breakfasted with Mr. Newton. I hope the conversation I had with him will not soon be effaced from my mind. He inculcated that salutar}^ lesson 3'ou mentioned in your letter, of "waiting patiently upon the Lord." He told me, God could, no doubt, if He pleased, produce a full-grown oak in an instant on the most barren spot ; but that such was not the ordinary working of His Providence. The acorn was first sown in the ground, and there was a secret operation going on for some time ; and even when the sprout appeared THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOX. [chap, I, above ground, if 3^011 were continually to be watching it, you. would not perceive its growth. And so, he said, it was in spiritual things. * " When a building is to be erected for eternit}^ the founda- tion must be laid deep. If I were going to build a horse-shed, I could put together a few poles, and finish it presently. But if I were to raise a pile like St. Paul's, I should lay a strong foundation, and an immense deal of labour must be spent underground, before the walls would begin to peep above its surface. * " Now," he continued, "you want to know whether you are in the right road ; that is i)utting the cart before the horse ; that is wanting to gather the fruit before you sow the seed. You want to experience the effects of belief before you do believe. * " You can believe a man if he promises you anything, but you cannot believe Christ when He says, ' Him that com'eth unto me I will in no wise cast out.' If you are cast out, it must be in some wise, but Christ says, ' in no wise.' If He had said, I will receive all who come except one hundred, then you might certainly think that you were of that hundred ; but the ' in no wise ' excludes all such arguing. There are few awakened sinners who doubt Christ's ability to save, but the fear seems to run on His icillingness, wliich, of the two, is certainly the most dishonouring to our blessed Saviour. To illustrate my meaning: — Suppose you had promised to pay one hundred pounds for me, and had given me the promise in waiting. Now, if you should refuse to pay the money when I sent for it, w^hich do you think would involve the greatest impeachment of your character, to say, that you were per- fectly willing to fulfil your engagement, but really had not the power ; or to say, that no doubt could be entertained of your ability, but you were unwilling to be bound by your promise. ' " Unbelief is a great sin. If the Devil were to tempt you to some open notorious crime, you would be startled at it; but when he tempts you to disbelieve the promises of God, you hug it as your infirmity, whereas you should consider it as a great sin and must pray against it. 1778—96.] EAKLY LIFE. 15 ' " When Evangelist in the ' Pilgrim's Progress ' asked Christian if he saw a wicket-gate at the end of the path, he said, No. Could he then see a shining light ? Pie thought he could. That light was the Bible, and it led him to the wicket- gate. But when he had passed that gate, he still retained the burden. It was not till he looked to the Cross that the burden fell from his back and was felt no more. Now," said Mr. New^;on, "the gate through which joii have to pass is a strait gate, you can but just squeeze in yourself. There is no room for self-righteousness ; that must be left behind." ' In a letter written to his mother a few days after this interview, he says : — ' The words of IMr. Newton, that unbelief is a great sin and should be prayed- against as such, continually recur to my mind. Alas ! my heart is unbelieving and hard, but I hope I endeavour to pray to the great Redeemer to give me a believing heart. * I dread that I am yet a h3^pocrite, and deceiving myself and others. For I feel that all ni}^ terrors and prayers arise from a fear of condemnation, and not from a love of God and concern for His glory. I feel that I dread God instead of loving Him ; and that if I have at all a hatred of sin, it is unaccompanied by a love of holiness. The fear of presumption on the one hand, and of unbelief on the other — of hypocrisy here, and eternal wrath hereafter, have well nigh sunk me into a state of utter despondency.' A gleam of light shines through this watery sky : — '3fay 9, 1796. ' It has been some cause of relief to my mind, to reflect what could have made me first think about the concerns of my immortal soul. I look into myself, and I see a source of corruption within me which poureth out iniquity like water. Every imagination of the thoughts of my heart is only evil continually. And I am convinced that if left to myself, I should have shut mine e3^es against the light, have gone on 16 THE LIFE OP DANIEL WILSON. [chap. I. still in sin, and continued trampling on the blessed Gospel till I had filled up the measure of my iniquities. * In the alteration, therefore, which I hope I may say has, at least in some degree, taken place in my views, I must recognise a power invisibly operating on my mind. And what can this have been ? Surely it must be of free, rich, unmerited grace ! For it could never be the interest of Satan to produce terrors and convictions of sin upon me ; but rather to have kept my conscience quiet, to have drowned its voice, and held me ever in his slavish chains. * Influenced by such reflections as these, I am sometimes led to hope that God has designs of mercy towards me ; that he will in His own good time open my eyes to see clearly the riches of His grace in Christ Jesus, and enable me to overcome the power of sin, and trust for salvation on His merits alone, who died, the just for the unjust, that we might be saved.' The clouds return after the rain : — 'JuneU, 1796. * I am grieved, my dearest mother, to distress you with my sorrows. You may perhaps be astonished (though if you knew my heart you would not) when I say that I am dead — literally dead — to spiritual things. And I am as certain that a corpse might with infinitely greater ease raise itself to life again, than I could raise myself from this death of sin to the life of righteousness. Here then I live, or rather exist, with a live bod}^, but a dead heart. The stone lieth within me, insensible to all the terrors of God's law, or the invitations of His gospel, and I believe that unless the Holy Spirit of God awake me from this sleep of sin, I shall continue in it till I am eflectually aroused by the commencement of an awful eternity. * This is my state with regard to spiritual things. But alas ! how lamentable a reverse presents itself to view with regard to earthly things. Here all is life. Here I enjoy all my faculties perfectly; I see, I hear, I understand, I believe, I think, I speak, I act. My soul is here in its element. Such is its total depravity and vileness that words cannot express its abomi- nations ; nor can any self- exertions or human power extricate me from the sea of misery in which I am involved. 1778—96.] EAELY LIFE. 17 * And indeed, the sum total of my present situation is, that I am the most miserable, vile, and wretched creature that ever lived; and all I can do is, to look unto Jesus as my only helper, and cry unto Him for mercy ; and but for that blessed word Uttekmost, my case would be hopeless.' Conscience, the barometer of the mind, becomes very sensi- tive at this time, and responds quickly to every change, as the following most affecting letter proves : — ' October 28, 1796. ' Alas ! my dearest mother, I continue a sinner, lying under an awful curse, and groaning under a grievous burden. Every day furnishes me strong proof of my total helplessness and inability, and yet such is the deceitfulness of sin, I constantl}^ forget at the time of temptation, to whom I sliould flee for refuge ; and so, ti;:jfing to resist in my own strength, I am always worsted, and Satan triumphs over me to the destruction of my own peace, and the discredit of my Christian profession in the eyes of those around me. Day after day do I fall into scandalous sin, insomuch that I think I am worse now in ni}- relative capacity, than I was some time back. And it is my grief and burden that it is so ; and often, night after night, do I bitterly bemoan myself, either for my levity, or my morose - ness, or my overbearing x>roud temper and forgetfulness of God, or my vile and abominable thoughts and imaginations, my intemperate language, and every otlier sin which naturally springs from a corrupt heai't. ' But alas ! what avails me all this ? Words won't save me ; and though I again and again resolve against my sins, and implore God's gracious support, yet as soon as I arise from my knees and go into the warehouse, my thoughts, which were solemnised, suddenly disperse. No sooner does temptation present itself than I resolve to oppose it, and think I can easily overcome it. I am therefore silent for a little while. Then something is said or done which goes against the grain, and this puts me out of humour, and I feel morose and sulky, and so everything gets wrong ; sin gains strength faster and faster, my words are akin to my tempers, my actions correspond, and when the devil has thus got possession of me, I love the sin VOL. I, 0 18 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. I. and liiTg it, and feel an unwillingness to part with it. Yet at the very same time, I am conscious that I am heaping up cause for future repentance ; hut I think I will go on a little longer ; and then perhaps a conviction strikes me ; I secretly cry unto God ; suddenly a fresh temptation occurs ; and again I faU. * "When I am in this melancholy state, my only way is to leave the warehouse, and go into the cellar^ and there make known my comi^laint unto the Lord, and pour out my heart before him ; and on these occasions I feel such an ahhorrence of myself, and find sin the cause of such anguish to my soul, that often and often at night, have I earnestly besought the Lord that if He would not have mercy on my soul hereafter, and deliver me from the guilt and condemnation of my sins, at least to deliver me from the power of them, and not let sin make me wretched and miserable in this ivorld, as well as in the next.' In the month of November in this year, he had a second interview with Mr. Newton, which, at the request of his mother, he thus narrates : — ' As I spoke but little, Mr. Newton said, " I cannot tell what to say to you, if you don't speak. A pump, when it is dry, may be restored by pouring in a little water at the top ; so if you begin, I can chatter for an hour ; but otherwise, I can sit a whole morning without speaking a word. Once set me a-going, and you may get as much out of me as you j)lease." * I said, I was afraid I was deceiving myself — or words to that effect. * " That depends," he replied, " upon your response to two questions — If an angel were sent from heaven expressly to tell you, you were to die this very night, what would you trust to — to any merits or performances of 5^our own, or to the Lord Jesus Christ alone ? And the second question is this — Which w^ay does your Life tend : are you the willing slave of sin, or do you hate and oppose it ? " ' I asked Mr. Newton his opinion concerning reading other books than the Bible. * "I would not have you read many books," he said, "though some may help you forward. The Bible is the spring from 1778—96.] EARLY LIFE. 19 whence tliey are all derived ; and you Liave as much right to draw from the fountain as Sinj one else. The Winchester bushel, you know, is kept in the Exchequer, and, on any dispute about measure, is always referred to as the true standard. Such is the Bible. It is a Li^ing AVord, and as though God Avere speaking to you face to face." * I complained of my want of humility. ' We shall never think ourselves humble enough," he replied; " for as we go on, and see more of our own hearts, we shall find increasing cause for it. If you look down into a well, it seems to be deep ; but all is confused, and you cannot realh^ see far down it. Now such is your heart. You cannot distinguish what it is now ; but as you proceed you will be obliged to go down into the well, and thus get thoroughly acquainted with it." *He proceeded, " All your doubts and fears and conflicts are as scaffolding to ajiuikling, which is no part of the edifice, nor ornamental, but to be considered as a blemish. Still the house cannot be built without it ; and when that is finished, all the scaffokling will be taken down as of no further use. * " If you are in company with Christians of thirty or more years standing, you wonder that your feelings are not more lil^e theirs. But there is a regular gradation of progress, — " Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the Lord." - ' " I don't like folks who jump into ' comfort ' all at once. It is better to go on gradually. God lays the foundation in the heart; and the walls no sooner peep above gi'ound, than we want the roof clapped on. But that won't do. ' " You want what is commonl}^ called assurance. But it is a dangerous thing, and the Lord knows you cannot yet be trusted with it. Many young converts thereby grow careless, and have turned back into the world for many years, and it is a great mercy if the Lord ever brings them back as poor prodigals." ' Daniel Wilson's aged and pious grandfather was still living, and a short conversation between the old and the young disciple towards the close of this year is worth preserving. ' I was talking to my dear gi'andfather, when my uncle was c 2 20 THE LIFE or DANIEL WILSON. [chap, I. last in tlie country, and he said, that when we bring our burdens to Christ, we should leave them with Him, and not take them back again with us. * When I told him what a sinner I was, and how sin reigned over me, he told me, the Lord saw perhaps that I did not bear well the mercies he had bestowed upon me. He added that he believed sin would always cleave to us ; that when he was a young man like me, he thought he should have done with sin long before now ; but he found there were old age sins, as well as young age sins ; and his old nature would sometimes rise, so that he found an Almighty Saviour as needful to him now, as when he first set off.' The words of these good men render further observations on the work of Grace now going on, superfluous ; and the thought- ful reader will prefer pondering on the ways of God, to listening to the comments of man. It must not, however, be supposed that the change in Daniel Wilson's mind, was unac- companied by a change in his conduct. He writes bitter things against himself, and is very slow to recognise any signs of improvement, but they were perceptible to others. His cousin Joseph, the eldest son of Mr. William Wilson, well known in after-life, and respected wherever known, as the founder and active promoter of the Lord's Day Observance Society, was an early associate and friend. They lived in the same house at this time, and shared the same room, and Joseph Wilson was wont to express the unfeigned astonishment he felt at the change which had taken place. Night after night he observed Daniel Wilson sitting up for hours ; and engaged, not now in common study, but in the reading of God's word, and other religious books. Oftentimes, after he had fallen asleep and awoke again, he found him still thus occupied, or on his knees in long-continued and earnest prayer. The very individual who was instrumental in his conversion, by bidding him " Pray for the feelings," and who still survives, aged and highly respected, though unconscious till recently of the effect of his words, bears testimony to the same purpose. He says that Daniel Wilson promised to be an excellent man of business, but that when religion took possession of his mind 1778—96.] EAl^LY LIFE. 21 he lost all interest in it, became serious and devout, and quite " another man." All books of a light or irreligious character had been burned at once, as thougli the very bridge must be destroyed which might facilitate his return from the newly discovered country ; and whereas he had been foremost in every wild scheme, he was now most anxious, not only to get good himself, but to do good to others. His state of mind seems to have excited gTeat interest wherever it was known ; and it is told of Mr. Eyre that on one occasion when he had returned home to Haclvne}^ weary with a long day's work in London and desiring repose, one of Daniel Wilson's letters was put into his hand. After reading it atten- tively, he roused himself, called for his boots, and prepared for a further effort. When asked, whether a written answer would not do for that on^iight, he replied, " No, writing alone will not do. I must see and talk to him. I cannot leave the young man to I)ass the night in despair." And he instantly set off, and walked to the city and back again, to afford him counsel and relief. But as man "of his own will '' cannot produce conviction of sin, so neither can he give "peace with God through Jesus Christ." He may speak comfortable words to the " piisoner of hope," but he cannot draw him out of the pit where there is no water. God's time of deliverance had not yet come ; and the 3^ear 1796 passed away, leaving its dark shadows upon Daniel Wilson's soul. On January 18, 1797, he writes, complaining of the difficulty he found in understanding Holy Scripture, and reading it to profit : — ' I think my greatest trial at this time is ignorance of God's word. I know not how to read, where to read, nor in what manner to apply it to my own heart and conscience. Though I daily read it and pray over it and try to understand it, yet I fear it is all in vain. It is to me a sealed book. When I read any other book, with a little attention I readdy discover the meaning. But when reading the blessed Word of God, which is Light, Life, and Truth itself, I know not what I read. When I endeavour to meditate on any particular portion, I cannot, as 22 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. I. it were, make anytliiiig of it. I Lear of other Christians who see Cluist in every page, who find in it food and medicine, and to whom the xH'omises are sweet and refreshing; but to all these things I am an utter stranger. Pray for me, that God the Holy Si^irit may shine on His word and into my heart.' As the i^eriod came round from which he dated his first serious impressions, his mother \^Tote reminding him of it. He replied in the following letter, which shows that it was still T^ith him a " dark and cloudy day :" — 'March 2, 1797. * I think if there ever was a poor wretch whom sin has rendered miserable, that wretch am I. I know not how to describe myself in any terms calculated to convey an adequate idea of my feelings. When I came to try myself by Scrij)ture tests, how awful is the result ! I hear the glorious Saviour himself declaring that, if I believe not on Him, I shall die in my sins, and I am constraiaed to say that I believe not, that I see not His beauty and excellency, and feel not His preciousness and value. I hear the Apostle solemnly declaring. If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be accursed ; and of love to Christ I know I have none. And seeing I have been spared anotlier year, a cumberer of the gi'ound as I am, and seeing that I bring not forth good fruit, what can I expect, but the fate of the tree mentioned in the Gospel ? * You ask me the particular day from which I date my first convictions, I am indeed unable to inform you to a certainty, but I generally reckon it to be the niath of March, 1796. The circimistance itself will never, I trust, be effaced from my mind, but as I have abeady acquainted you with it some time back, I shall not now repeat it. * Pray for me, my dear mother, that I may observe the retmn of that day m a proper manner. It would more accord with my own incHnation, and more conduce to the tranquillity of my mind, could I spend it in fastmg and prayer; but as my oi)i:)ortunities are so very cux-umscribed, I think I cannot do less than go to see ISIr. Eyre, whose love to me will I hope be amply rej^aid, not by my poor gratitude, but with the blessing of heaven into his own bosom.' 1778—96.] EAKLY LIFE. 23 The purpose thus expressed was carried into effect. The 9th of March found Daniel Wilson in company with Mr. Eyre, and the natural desire to know what passed on an occasion so interesting, may be to a certain extent gratified ; for notes of the conversation are still extant. They serve to show the general nature of the intercourse which took place between them, and the kind of instruction and encouragement communicated by Mr. EjTe ; and are the more valuable, because none of the many letters which must have been written by him from time to time have been preserved. The notes were taken from a memorandum made by Daniel Wilson, and were inclosed to his mother in a letter dated March 17, 1797. * We were talking of repentance, and I said that the more I read about it, aed thought about it, the more I found reason to fear that I never had true repentance. He asked my reasons for thinking so, and what I considered repentance to be. I replied, that I had been guided by Mr. Scott's discourse on that subject, who, amongst other characteristics, described it as consisting in a genuine sorrow for sin, not only on account of its punishment, but because of its odiousness and malignity as committed against a holy, just, and good God. Mr. Eyre agreed, and drew many comfortable conclusions in my favour. * We then turned the conversation to faith, and he asked me the idea I had of it. I replied that I supposed it to be a believing apprehension of Christ as mine, and an assurance that He died and rose again /or me. To this he objected, as confounding two distinct things, faith, and the assurance of faith. I know," he said, " that is Mr. Hervey's definition, but I think it is one of his great errors. Faith is no such thing. It is simply looking: it is simply believing. It is even less than that : for there can be no desire to look, without faith. * " Dr. , in his sermon preached at my chapel last Sunday (March 5), spoke in a very apposite manner respecting faith. * Faith,' he observed, * was described in many different ways. It is sometimes represented in allusion to the feet, and then it is, " Come unto me ; " " As ye have received Christ Jesus the THE. LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. I. Lord, so icalk ye in him." Sometimes it is spoken of with reference to the hands, and then it is, " To as many as received Him to them gave He power ;" " Lay hold on eternal life." At other times the allusion is to the ears, and then it runs, " This is my heloved Son, /lear ye Him ; " "he that hath ears to hear let him hear'' At other times the eyes are used for the purpose of illustration, and then it is, ^' Look unto me and be ye saved;" "He that seeth the Son,'" &c. * I then said, " I thought if I had true faith, I should be one with Christ; united to Him, and. enabled to oppose in HiB strength the dominion of my corruptions ; but that of all this I had no experience, and consequently must conclude I was not a believer in Him." * " What you say," returned Mr. Eyre, " of the effects of true faith is correct : and this I will tell you, that you are one with Christ." I seemed to w^ait for his explanation, and he thus proceeded : " If I were to curse, and swear, and blaspheme the name of Christ, should you not be shocked ? " I said. Yes. "Well, then," he continued, " that is one thing. You are con- cerned for the honour of Christ. Then, do you not love the Word of God ? " I hesitated, but at length answered. Not as I ought. " That is nothing to the purpose," he rejoined, " for we none of us do anything as well as we ought. But, do you love it ? " I replied in the affirmative. " Further : do 3^ou not love the house of God ? Do you not love the people of God ? " To these questions I answered. Yes. " Why, then," he said, " how can you say you are not united to Christ? You love his honour, his word, his house, his people : you are united to Him in the same spirit." * After this conversation Mr. Eyre went to prayer with me with the greatest affection.' The good effect produced upon his mind by this conversation was however only transient. It passed away, and the heavens grew black with clouds. 'April 12, 1797. * You know me not, my dearest mother, or else I am sure you must hate me ; for to a gracious heart, such a complication of inbred corruption and outward transgression as constitute my 1778—96.] EAELY LIFE. 25 character, must, I am sensible, be altogether loathsome and detestable. I have great reason to fear that I am one of that awful number whom God hath given up to final obduracy and impenitence, and who are constantly increasing their condem- nation by the opportunities of grace they daily abuse, and concerning whom the Almighty has declared, that he has " no pleasure in them." ' The hearing of the Gospel, and the reading of God's word produce no effect on my obdurate heart. All the invitations of the Gospel are useless, all its threats produce no terror. The old serpent has been trying long to have my soul, and now he has it fast. He rules in it. He reigns over it. And I, his wTetched slave, obey it in the lusts thereof. I verily am persuaded that my evil tempers have a more absolute sway now, than when I never knew I had a soul to be saved — or what amounts to the-^ame thing, when I never thought seriously about it. My dear mother, it is not willingly that I distress your mind with the account of my dreadful state. To 3'ou, heaven is safe, and I rejoice in it; though I believe you will never meet there your poor son.' From this dark cloud the following letter darts like a flash of lightning. It was written to Mr. Vard}^ who was purj^osing at this time (though the purpose was eventually frustrated) to give himself to the missionary work, and was entering on the necessary preparation with much fear and trembling. His services w-ere offered to the London Missionary Society, and before leaving England, he went about attending religious and devotional meetings, and preaching when the opportunity presented itself. As his friend, Daniel Wilson, took much interest in all this, he occasionally accompanied him and heard him preach, encouraging and cheering him, and offering such suggestions as to the choice of texts and manner of treating them as occurred to his own mind. ' June 8, 1797. * Pardon my ignorance and presumption, but I think your choice of a subject was not the most easy and simple, which is what you should aim at. I should think if you were to take texts such as these : 26 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. I. ' " The love of Christ constrameth us." * " Christ is all and in all." ' " Who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption." * " With him is plenteous redemption." Or any other where you would he unavoidahly led to speak principally on the person and work of Christ, your heart would he more likely (humanly speaking) to he affected with your suhject than on other topics, which, though connected with, do not so immediately lead you to dwell on the glories of Jesus. * I should think you might with little difficulty preach a good sermon on that one word, Christ. Begin with Christ, go on with Christ, and end with Christ ; and I am sure your hearers will never he tired, for His name is like " ointment poured forth." * On such a suhject 3^ou need only look within to find matter enough to explain what Christ came to redeem you from : you need only go to Calvary to see what redemption cost, and to have your soul so moved by the sight of a bleeding Saviour, that you could no longer hesitate what to say ; and you need only reflect on what you are, to explain the necessity of Christ's intercession at the right hand of God. Look more, my dear friend, to Jesus. There is nothing like looking onlyy looking simply, and looking perseveringly to Him.' "Words so bright from a soul so dark, are very remarkable : to be accounted for partly by the peculiarities of a character itself full of striking contrasts, and partly by the fact that the communication of spiritual gifts is to a great extent independent of the enjoyment of them. The attempt to benefit his friend seems to have had a good effect on Daniel Wilson's own mind, by withdrawing his attention somewhat from himself. Nor was it an isolated act. In letters written about this time, he is found rejoicing over two of his fellow-servants, who last year were " children of wrath," but are now " plants of grace." He writes to one of his sisters, pressing religion on her attention ; and mentions his purpose of writing to another on the same subject. He endeavours in a similar way to comfort his mother under some 1778— 9G.] EARLY LIFE. 27 domestic affliction. And thus, watering others, he appears to have been watered himself ; and at length to have found " rest to his soul." It came like " the morning spread upon the mountains," and in the use of God's appointed ordinances. The account is as follows : — In a letter written to his mother on August 23rd, 1797, he uses this expression : " Kememher me to Mr. EjTe. I intend writing to him soon on a subject which has lain on my mind these three months." And what was this subject ? He tells us himself in a letter to Mr. Eyre, written on September 7th, from which the following are extracts : — * It almost makes me tremble when I think on the important and solemn subject I am introducing; for I fear it savours very much of that spiritual pride which I feel entwining itself with my every duty. "'That one who knows so little of the Lord Jesus Christ, so little of his own evil heart, and who lives so little to the glory of his Eedeemer, should think of partaking of that sacred ordinance which the oldest Christians rejoice in the enjoyment of, is, I fear, a prominent token of self-ignorance and presumption. * I hope I am enabled to believe that it is a table spread for the refreshment of every penitent sinner, and that all are welcome who have been brought from a state of nature to a state of grace, and from slaves of Satan have been made willing servants of the Lord Jesus. * If you continue to think it my duty to approach the sacred table, I should feel myself very much obliged if you w^ould find time to talk it over with my dear mother, who, I am sure, would be very willing to spare you the trouble of writing, by sending me, herself, a letter on the subject.' This letter produced its due effect, and on the first Sunday in October, Daniel Wilson received the holy sacrament of the body and blood of Christ, for the first time, from the hands of Mr. Eyre in his chapel ; and found, indeed, that " di^awing near with faith," he took that holy sacrament to his comfort." On the very next day he writes to his mother, who was absent from town, as follov*'S : — 28 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. I. 'Monday, October 2, 1797. * I have nothing but mercy to tell you of. Oh ! that my heart was but melted with love and gratitude to my dear Redeemer for such rich grace as he is continually showering upon my soul. ' To know that my Lord still does continue, and ever will continue, to love my worthless soul, that He still pardons all my unnumbered sins, and still shines upon me with the beams of his love : — to feel and know such precious truths as these, is enough to break the very adamant into praise. Pray for me, my dear mother, that mider the mercies with which the Lord is, as it were, overloading my soul, I may be kept very humble at his feet, sensible of my utter unworthiness and absolute dependence upon him. 'But, doubtless, the main design of your desiring me to write, was to hear how I was carried through the solemn and delightful business of yesterday ; and, blessed be God, X trust I can say that your prayers for me were answered, and that the Lord was with me of a truth. ' When I came into the chapel I was very full of fears, and was rather cold whilst Mr. Eyre preached a sweet discourse from the words, " Without shedding of blood is no remission." Between the services I was exceedingly favoured with the Lord's presence, and was enabled to offer secret addresses to Him, that He would keep me humble, and make me give up myself — all I am, and all I have — to be His; and solely devoted to His glory. ' When I approached with Mrs. Eyre the sacred table, I was so full of trembling (I cannot describe my feelings), that I doubt not I appeared very foolish to those around me. ' But not to be too tedious, I have abundant reason for gratitude and praise. Nor have the blessings of this ordinance been confined to 3^esterday ; for, blessed be God, I think I never was so comfortable in my soul, and so desirous of loving my Saviour more and more, and living to His glory, than I have been to-day.' There is the same sunshine in a letter written to Mr. Vardy, on October 4th : — 1778—96.] EARLY LIFP]. 29 * My heart is so full I know not where to begin, nor how to describe the unsj^eakable mercies which the Lord is showering on my worthless soul. Oh ! for a tongue to sing the praises of my dear Redeemer. Pray for me that I may be kept humble and thankful. ' I wrote you word that I had opened my mind to dear Mr. Eyre respecting my approaching the sacred table, and, blessed be God for undeserved mercy, I can now tell you that on last Sunday morning, I took that solemn and important step, and the Lord was with me. Never did I enjoy so much the presence of my dear Redeemer, as I have since that time ; and this, not so much in great sensations of pleasure, as in brokenness of heart, and I trust in sincere desires to be devoted to His glory. Yesterday and to-day have been, I thinks the happiest days I ever rememher. The Lord shines so upon my soul that I cannot but love Him, and desire no longer to live to myself, but to Him. And to you, I confess it (though it ought perhaps to be a cause for shame), that I have felt great desires to go or do anything to spread the name of Jesus; and that I have even wished, if it were the Lord's will, to go as a missionar}^ to heathen lands.' Thus he obtained "joy and peace in believing," and with it there sprung up a desire, which received its accomplishment after a lapse of thirty-five years. In October, 1797, Daniel Wilson felt his spirit stirred to go as a missionary to heathen lands ; and in October, 1832, he stood on the banks of the Hooghly as Bishop of Calcutta ! CHAPTER II. CALL TO THE MINISTRY. 1796—1798. The deep foundations of religion — Subject opened — Letters to Mr. Eyre — His father's refusal of his wish — His own reasons — Consults Eev. Rowland Hiil — Journal — Consulcs Rev. R. Cecil — Father consents — Enters at Oxford — Pupil of Rev. J. Pratt. Many eminent Christians may have felt surprise whilst perusing the narrative of Daniel Wilson's conversion in the last chapter. They may have knovrn nothing like it in their own experience. The change in their own minds may have been gradual and imperceptible. They ma}^ have heard God's voice in early life, awakening, but not alarming them. They may have been built up in their holy faith, like the temple of old, without the sound of axes, or hammers, or any tool of iron being heard. And hence they will scarcely be able to realise the " strong crying and tears " of a deeply earnest mind when grace suddenly grapples with it. But it is nevertheless divine workmanship " they have been looking on. No doubt there is something peculiar in the case of Daniel Wilson : somethmg peculiar in the depth of his penitential sorrow and self-abhorrence ; and something peculiar in the long period of eighteen months ere deliverance came. Even those who have known him best in after-life will read with surprise the conflicts of his youth. But there was a purpose in this, as there is in all the Divine dealings. Here was a j'oung man of vigorous health, strong passions, quick temper, decided character, great energy, and sure to be a leader in after-Hfe either for good or for evil. God had i^urposes of mercy concerning him, and important 1796—98.] CALL TO THE M1^'ISTET. 31 work for him to do. He was to be an " ambassador for Clii'ist," and a " steward of the mysteries of God." All the various phases in the ministry of the Chiu'ch were in tnm to be exhibited by him. As years rolled on, he was to be the university prizeman, the college tutor, the popular preacher, the parish priest, the successful author, the eastern bishop and metropolitan. And he was to meet and surmount all the temptations attendant npon these offices : — the " knowledge which puffeth up," the " settling upon the lees," the " praise of man," the " ease in Zion," the " seeking after great things," the *' lording it over God's heritage." Hence, probably, the duration and severity of the ordeal through which he had to pass. The foundations of such a superstructui'e needed to be well and deeply laid ; and in his profound sense of the evil of sin, his open confession, his di'ead of hypocrisy, his knowledge of self, his conviction of weakness, his prostration of soul, his insight into the heart's corruption, we see laid the deep founda- tions of truth, the best preservatives against error, and the sure preparatives for future and extensive usefidness. I have never seen in any person," said Mr. Eyre to Daniel Wilson's mother, " such deep conviction of sin, and such a view of the heart's corruption, where God has not had some great and special work for that person to do. I should not wonder if God makes your son an eminent minister in His Church." Such a result seemed little likely at the time the words were spoken ; but it was God's i^m-pose, and he brought it to pass. It was in October, 1797, that the desu-e to enter the sacred ministry, which had fixed itself in Daniel AYilson's mind, found expression. AVhen it first arose, it had been deteiininately repressed by himseK, as only another form of that pride which, he said, so easily beset him. But whilst he kept silence, his soul had no peace ; and at length, after much earnest prayer, he went to Mr. Eyre, and made known the matter. * On Sunday night, October 15th,' he says, 'my soul was exceedingly di-a^n out in earnest prayer for direction ; and wliilst on my knees, the thought came mto my mind, that the Lord never worked without means, and that it was only in the use of them that I could expect his direction. This first 33 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. II. induced me to go to Mr. Ej^e, which I did on Wednesday evening the 18th. I had only time to say a very few words to him. He did not wish me to be in a hurry, but promised to open the subject to my parents, and to talk to me more fully when I came next.' This short interview was followed by a long letter written to Mr. Eyre a few days after. The following are extracts : — ' Since the conversation I had with you last Wednesday, the important subject which occasioned it has continually impressed my mind, and has been often spread before the Lord. I trust it is in answer to those prayers that I feel my whole soul engrossed with ardent desires to engage in the important work, insomuch that I think I can appeal to the Great Searcher of hearts, when I assure jou, that the world has shrunk to nothing in my esteem, and that its pleasures, riches, and honours, are so far from being desirable in my view, that the Lord enables me to consider them as objects of aversion ; and that the only thing worth living for is to be the means, in His hands, of doing good to the souls of my fellow-sinners. * I sometimes am discouraged on account of the dreadful cor- ruptions of my heart, and of my utter unfitness for such a great work ; but these unbelieving fears vanish when the Holy Spirit enables me to remember that my sufficiency is of God," and that it is not with excellency of speech or of wisdom, but in " demonstration of the Spirit and of power," that the blessing must come. ' It is true that mountains of difficulty seem to oppose my deliverance from Milk Street ; but the Lord has all hearts in His hands; and I found much comfort from reading Acts v. 19, 20 ; and am enabled to believe that He will fulfil in me all His good pleasure in spite of every opposition. But I would still desire to have my will resigned to His, and when that will is manifested by the events of His providence, to say, " It is the Lord, let Him do as seemeth Him good." ' When the matter was first opened to Daniel Wilson's father, it met with his decided disapproval. It thwarted all the plans which he had laid : and he would not hear of it. Mr. Eyre at 1796—98.] CALL TO THE MIIs^ISTJlY. 33 once communicated this clieck to liis 3^oung friend, and told him that, under such circumstances, delay hecame a dutj- ; that another year in Milk Street would do him no harm ; and that measures which, were he of full age, might he lawful, would at the present time he sinful. As for himself personally, Mr. Eyre said he had made up his mind what to do : he should he silent for a twelvemonth, and not venture even to give an opinion. It was now November 4, 1797. On Nov. 4, 1798, he should be prepared, if his advice was asked, to give it ; and to give it in a decided manner. Meanwhile, he recommended that all irritating discussion should be carefully avoided. Daniel Y/ilson submitted. * Here then,' he says, ' humanly speaking, the affair rests for the following twelvemonth, and if the Lord should spare me so long, I trustee will be preparing me for this great work. Nothing is desirable, nothing valuable in my eyes, but the glorifying my dear Eedeemer.' The matter, however, was not allowed to rest without dis- cussion. His mother wrote to him to ask his special reasons for wishing to change his course of life, and why he thought himself called to enter the ministry. He deemed it a cause of "joy and gratitude that God had inclined her heart to ask these questions," and proceeded at once to answer them. In his answer he refers to Newton's Cardiphonia, where the reality of a call to the sacred ministry is discussed under three heads : first, in the soul being moved to a warm and earnest desire to be employed in this service ; secondly, in there being, in due time, a competent sufficiency of gifts, knowledge, and utterance ; and thirdty, in the hand of God's providence pointing out the time, the place, and the means. * With regard to the first point,' he says, ' the Lord has made it as clear as though it was written with a sunbeam. I feel all the desires of my soul continually and increasingly drawn out towards this work, and my soul yearns over the vast numbers of my poor fellow- sinners who never heard of Jesus, nor of the VOL. I. D THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. II. life which is in Him. The previiiUng clesii-e of my heart is that He alone may be exalted, and His throne set up in the hearts of guilty rebels, that Satan's kingdom may be destroyed, and the love of Christ made known. Though I feel the pride of my heart rising in me, yet I trust it is not my wish to exalt the monster Self, but to be the instrument in the Lord's hands of spreading the savour of His name and the riches of His salvation all around.' On the second point, he felt himself "inclined to say a great deal ; " but fearing " the detestable pride " of his heart, and knowing that all abilities and qualifications for the work v. ere gifts of God," he would not say " a single word." On the third topic he enters fully, considering both God's work within him, and the outward openings of His providence. Touching the last of these, he states that his retii'ement from his present situation would cause no sort of inconvenience to his uncle ; and as to himself, he is sure that he should "never make a good tradesman;" that he " never loved busi- ness;" that "his dishke to it was now increased;" and as a subordinate argument under this head, he mentions that he had lost but little of his scliool learning, for that even when " dead in sm " he had always a love for it, and " used to spend many hours in study, which would otherwise have been employed worse." * And now I have endeavoured,' he concludes, ' to open all my mind to my dearest mother, on this important subject. ' AVhat can I say to these things ? If this work proceed from the deceitfulness of my carnal heart, it will come to nought ; but if it be of God it cannot be overturned. From whence can the strong, the fervent desires of my soul proceed, save from the Lord the Spirit ? For, of tins I am sure, that such thmgs could never come from myself, or from Satan. Yes, my dear mother, I feel sm^e it is of the Lord, and I humbly believe that He, in His good time will work, and then none can let it. "When He is x>leased to " lay to His hand," mountains will sink into plains, rough places become smooth, crooked things be made straight, and an open door set before me.' 179G— 98.] CALL TO THE :^nNISTRY. 35 This letter was written on November 13tb, and on the 22nd he tells Mr. Eyre that he is ignorant what effect it may have in'odueed. ' I took it to my closet/ he says, ' when finished, and spread it before a throne of grace, and was enabled solemnly to give it up to the Lord, acknowledging that in itself it was totally incapable of convincing my parents in the smallest degree, and imploring that He woiihl be pleased to accompany it Avith His almiglit}' power, and make it the instrument of opening tlieir hearts.' Though he had received his father's refusal and I\Ir. Eyre's suggestion with exemplary submission, yet when a month ehipsed without anythir.g further being said or done, his mind became hHTassed and uneasy. He began to fanc}' he had done wrong by conferring in this matter with flesh and blood : his whole soul, he says, ^' was agitated with fervent longings to go out into the liighways and hedges and compel IDOor sinners to come in.'' He remembered that there was such a thing as " carnal prudence," and " tlie fear of man which bringeth a snare." Might not his compliance with the wishes of parents and friends be a shrinking from God's service, and an unwillingness to endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ ? He could not avoid thinking, lie says, that secondar}^ objects and motives, easil}^ conceived but difficult to express, might have narrowed and influenced their views." He did not feel, therefore, "fidl satisfaction of mind, and longed for a clearer view of the Lord's will concerning him." These thoughts were tossing in his mind and keeping sleep from his eyelids one Saturday night, when suddenly the idea occurred to him that he would consult the Eev. Rowland Hill upon his case, and endeavour to learn through him the path of duty. Immediate action followed ; and after he had sought help from God, the evening of December o 1st found him in the vestry-room of Surrey Chapel, introducing himself to Mr. Hill. He was received, as might be anticipated, with the courtesy of a Christian gentleman, and invited to breakfixst the next mornin"". o D 2 36 TPTE LIFE OF DA"^^EL WILSOIT. [chap. 11. Accustomed as the Eev. Eowland Hill must have heen to every variety of application, he could not but be struck with the address of this young stranger, who, immediately on being seated (the account is from his own notes), opened his business by saying that he thought he had "a call to go into the ministry." " Well," said Mr. Hill, "that is a very serious thing indeed;" and he proceeded to inquire into his reasons, — to probe the depth of his religious knowledge, — to ask whether his parents w^re cognisant of the matter, and whose ministry he had attended. These points being ascertained, Mr. Hill said that it was very difficult to advise in such a case, and suggested that his own minister should be applied to. He thought Daniel Wilson very young both in years and grace ; and reminded him of the text in the Epistle to Timothy, "Not a novice, lest being puffed up, he fall into the condemnation of the devil." He inquired minutely into his connexions, expectations, motives, and wishes : and finally expressed a hope, in his fervent manner, that if the thing was really of the Lord, it might prosper. So far all was satisfactory : but now came the main question : wdiich was at once proposed by Daniel Wilson, as follows : — * Do you think it my duty to wait till I am out of my time, before I give up myself to the work ? ' * "Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Hill; " your time is not your own. By a mutual agreement you have bound yourself for a certain number of years, and that obligation is superior to any other. I hope," he added, " that during this time you. will manifest by your w^alk and conversation, that the grace of God is in your heart ; and that may be instrumental in altering your father's mind more than anything else. Humility is a sweet and guardian grace. If I saw you pert and proud, and want- ing to go ' without the Lord,' I would not give a farthing for you or your preaching either. But if you are humble and child-like, afraid of taking a single step unless the Lord point out the way, then you will be owned and blessed." Some little disappointment may have crossed Daniel Wilson's 1796— 9S.] CALL TO THE MINISTEY. 87 mind at this result of the interview ; for it is natural to sup- pose that in the selection of Mr. Hill, there had been a secret lurking expectation that one so zealous would not hesitate a moment in sending a fresh labourer into the vineyard. But if this disappointment was felt, it was not manifested : and nothing can more clearly show the wonderful influence exerted by grace upon the natural temper, than the way in which he receives these repeated checks. There is no resistance ; no kicking " against the pricks :" the submission is prompt, unre- pining, and even cheerful. " I need not sa}^," is his comment on Mr. Hill's decision, "that the conversation was both sound and sweet: and through the Lord's blessing, I hope never to forget it." He resolved now to tarry the liOrd's leisure, and to do each day what good he could in the ordinary duties of his calling, and to put in "a word for Christ " "^riienever the opportunity offered. About this time he began to keep a Journal, in which he recorded the workings of his mind in the most unreserved manner, and occasionally alluded to passing events in which he was personall}^ interested. From this journal frequent extracts will be given.* We have now entered upon the year 1798, and Daniel AVilson's position remains unchanged. He has been taught that his strength was to sit still : and having learnt that lesson, God now begins to work on his behalf, and at once all wills change, all difficulties vanish, and all events yield. It appears that he had hitherto held no direct com- munication with his father on this anxious subject, but Mr. Eyre had been the " daysman " between them. Acting now upon the advice of his mother, he writes a very earnest, respectful, and affectionate letter to his father, taking blame to liimself for his backwardness in not having done so before. The circumstances under which he wrote, and the result produced by his letter, are thus recorded in his journal : — ^ The first entry iu iliis journal is made on Dec. 26, 1797. From that date to June 13, 1801, it is written in minute shorthand. From August, 1801, to Sept., 1807, it is less continuous, and written in Latin. There is then a blank till the year 1830, when it is resumed and written in French. Whilst he was in India, it is all ia English. 38 THE LIFE OF DANIl^L AVILSON. [c:rAP. II, 'Monday, March 12, 1798. ' Through the Lord's mercy I am brought to the present moment. Two 3'ears have now ehipsed since His work of grace began in my soul. It is His love and faithfulness which have kept me hitherto, and upon His unchangeable- ness do I rely to be carried through all the hosts of inward and outward foes, to the haven of eternal rest. My mother has been mercifully restored to wonted health. On Wednesday, the 28th ult., by my dear mother's advice, I wrote to my honoured father on my going into the ministry, and I desire to be thankful for the very kind letter I received in in which he promised at the end of the year seriously to enter upon the subject, and to follow, as far as he could, the Lord's will. Oh ! what a God is my God ! How clearly is His hand to be seen ! On my first application my father would not hear anytliing about it. In tlie course of a montli or two, his mind was so far altered as to promise that, after having fiiithfull}^ served my time, he would then enter upon the subject. And now he has kindlj^ engaged at the expiration of the twelvemonth (four months of which have nearly elapsed) to take it into serious consideration. Oh ! to grace how great a debtor. Oh ! for a heart seriously affected with the Lord's goodness, and humbly dependent on His pov^-erful arm under the darkest dispensations.' But this was not all. Events moved on rapidh\ On the 22nd of March he writes to his friend Vardy, as follows : — ' I just drop you a line to say that, since we parted on Monday evening, it has been settled that I am to go to ]\Ir. Cecil's on Monday morning next. My father yesterday informed me of this, and seemed to view things in a much more favourable light than he had yet done. He said he only wished to know what the Lord's will was : and as soon as he felt satisfied, should no longer continue to oppose my desires. He said nothing as thougli the residt of this interview sliould be absolutely binding, but hoped it would have its full weight with me as coming from a man of such wisdom and experience. To this I readily assented. After this interview I am to have 1790—98.] CALL TO THE MTNLSTRY. another of a similar nature with jMr. Goode of White How. Pray for me without ceasing, that tlie Ijorcl may stand by me and be a mouth unto me and wisdom: and that both Mr. Cecil and your poor friend may be under the immediate influences of the Holy Spirit.' Accordingly on the 26th March he waited on the Rev. Mr, Cecil, and announces the result to the same friend, on the same day : — ' I seize the first moment to acquaint you with the blessed event of my interview with Mr. Cecil. I have not time to enter into particulars. To sum up all in one word — He is fully persuaded that I am called of God to the work of the ministry, and advises me by all means to go on iu it. ' Slacken not youf- pra3'ers on ni}'' behalf, that the Lord may keep me humble and grateful for His mercies.' A few days afterwards, however, he sends to his mother a full account of the interview : — ' On the SGth March,' he says, * after importunate prayer, I w^ent to Mr. Cecil's, not without great fears and tremblings. When I was seated opposite a sofa on which Mr. Cecil reclined, he said, "I understand you have views to the ministr3\ Now Providence seems to have cast you into a different line, and I suppose you have serious reasons for wishing to go out of it. I have laboured and laboured successfully to induce a young man to give himself to this work when I thought he was really called. He is the son of Sir E. M , and was in his banking-house, and had every prospect of sharing in that lucrative concern. He is now at St. Edmund's Hall. 1 mention this to show you that I am quite at liberty to advise on either side, in an unbiassed manner." ' I then related the abiding desire of my soul towards this work, and the different steps which had brought me before him as a judge. He inquired the manner and time of my conversion : and when I mentioned (as I could not but do), the dreadful lengths of iniquity into which I had sunk, he 40 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. ir. stopped me, when I called myself "the chief of sinners," to put in his claim to that character ; and this was the point in Avhich he said he exceeded every one : that he kept a kind of school of infidelity, and used to have a number of young men and teach them to ridicule the Bible, &c. ' I told him I had not abilities for that, or else I am sure my heart was bad enough. * After I had finished my narrative, he said, the call appeared perfectly clear to him, and he advised me by all means to go on in my i3ursuit. This being settled, I mentioned that my father w^as doubtful whether I had qualifications for a minister. In reply to this, he observed, " that if none but men of genius and shining parts were to be in the ministry, there would be few indeed ! It was not genius nor great abilities that ever saved a soul ; and that even a dull understanding with industry in the use of means, and a heart set on the work, might form a very useful man. He knew some ministers now of that character, who had improved themselves so much by diligence and study, that they were as useful as any men of the day. The grand matter is, whether the heart be right with God. The main question asked at ordination is. Do you trust that you are inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take upon you this ofiice and ministration ? Now, do you expect a voice to call to you from the top of the ceiling ? Do you expect some dream to tell you of it ? No. The only proof is, a conscious- ness of an abiding desire after the work, with a single eye to the glory of God and the good of souls. Having this, what other token or sign can you require ? You must give up all thoughts of worldly wealth, and leave your future provision in God's hands. "When I married I had only 80^. a year, and I lived as well as though I had 10,000/. If your heart is in j-our work, you will consider the salvation of souls as your reward ; and having food and raiment you must be content. ' " I have no objection to your going into the Church. But you should endeavour first to learn what is the course tlie Lord marks out for you. I love consistenc3^ If you think you have a general call to evangelise, and to go about pro- claiming the glad tidings of salvation, then you cannot con- scientiously enter the Established Church. Now I don't call 1796—98.] CALL TO THE MINISTRY. 41 Mr. Whitfield or Mr. Berridge inconsistent characters. The}^ were perfectly consistent. They entered the Church in the simplicity of their hearts; God afterwards called them to another line ; and what they had done, could not then he helped. But to promise regularity while at the same time a man intends to be irregular, cannot be done with a good conscience." ' I told him I had no wish or purpose to be irregular ; and the wishes of all my friends corresponding with my own pre- ference for the Church, seemed to point it out as my line of duty. ' Mr. Cecil said that when he was first convinced of sin, he had no idea of being a minister. But his father was a high Churchman and his mother a dissenter ; and his father forced liim to go to colle^. * This was the substance of our conversation ; and I have great cause for thankfulness to the Lord, for his mercies to the vilest of sinners. ' How wonderfully has the Lord led me hitherto ! Every step my father has taken, for all I could tell, was as likely to lead backwards as forwards. And this has been blessed, I hope, to keep me more in the exercise of faith and prayer. Excuse my brevity and haste. The dying words of Mr. Hervey are much on my mind. " If I had my life to live again, I would spend more of it on my knees." ' No further difficulties of any kind seem to have arisen. It had pleased God to make a plain path for his feet to walk in. The result is entered in his journal as follows : — ' Oh! the wonders of the Lord's goodness. My dear father let me go to Mr. Cecil's and Mr. Goode's, and they, after due examination, gave their opinion that I was called of God to the ministry. My father consented to my leaving business. In a few days I am to go and enter myself at St. Edmund's Hall, Oxford, and be at Mr. Pratt's as a private pupil till I am ready to reside in college. My dear uncle has conducted himself with the greatest kindness during the whole matter, and has readily consented to the arrangement made by my father. The 43 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. ir. Lord lias led me b}^ a Avay tliat I knew not. To His great name be all the glory ! ' In accordance with tlie plan tlius proposed, Daniel Wilson went up to Oxford and entered himself at St. Edmund's Hall, on the 1st of jMay : and on the 10th of the same month, he writes to his mother from Doughty Street, Russell Square, where the Rev. Josiah Pratt then resided. ' The desire you expressed to hear from me as soon as I was comfortably settled here has not been forgotten. I am encircled with mercies. In every point of view, I find myself as to out- ward circumstances, in the best possible situation. Mr. and Mrs. Pratt are extremely good-tempered and agreeable, and very pious. My fellow students (two) though not serious, have been educated in a Moravian College, and are very civil, moral youths. I have a most beautiful prospect from my room over the fields, unobstructed by an}^ houses. So much as to outward blessings : but these are nothing compared with spiritual — though all should excite gratitude from him who is unworthy of any.' " Then are they glad because they are at rest : and so he bringetli them unto the haven where they would be." — Ps. cvii, 30. CHAPTER III. STUDENT LIFE. 1798. Rev, J. Pratt — Studious liaLits — Letters — Attempts at doing good — Family Prayers — Journals — Attaini^ents. To enter upon the student life of Daniel Wilson after Avliat lias-passed, is like gliding into a quiet harbour from a stormy- sea . Former troubles enliance present enjoyment, the fretting and chafing of his mind subsides, his vehemence of expression with much of its peculiarity disappears, each day's employments are congenial to his taste, his correspondence becomes calm and devotional, and thougli his journals still manifest a fierce conflict between the flesh and the spirit, yet on the whole his growth in grace and in divine knowledge is manifest. A wiser and better tutor than Mr. Pratt, could scarcely have been selected. He was in the prime of life, had been married only a year before, and was commencing as curate to Mr. Cecil, at St. John's Chapel, Bedford Row, that career of usefulness which has justly endeared his memory to the Church. Daniel AVilson seized every opportunity in after years, of bearing affectionate testimonj^ to one " who had guided his youth and prepared him for the university in 1798, and con- tinued his bosom friend till death." ' I owe to him,' he says in 1845, ' under God, and to two or three other eminent men, the entire guidance of my mind when I first entered seriously on the care of my salvation, and the earnest study of theology : — the Rev. Thomas Scott, the commentator, from 179G to 1798 : then in 1798 the Rev. Josiah Pratt: next at St. Edmund's Hall, Oxford, the Rev. Isaac Crouch : and lastly, in my first 44. THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. III. curac}', from 1801 to 1803, the Rev. Richard Cecil. These continued uninterruptedly my most intimate friends, till their several deaths. But to no one was I more attached than to him, who was spared to me and to the Church the longest — the Rev. Josiah Pratt — my honoured brother.' ^ Under Mr. Pratt's guidance, he applied himself with in- defatigable diligence to his studies. His time was thus por- tioned out as described by himself : — * 5*30 to 7 o'clock. Devotional exercises and writing letters, as I am now doing. * 7 to 8. Preparing my Latin task. ' 8 to 9. Prayers ; and breakfast, during which, two or three numbers of the Spectator are read by each of us in turn. * 9 to 1 1 . Lecture on Natural Philosophy a^d Geography : and reading Latin. *11 to 12. Preparing my Natural Philosophy for the next morning, and a problem of Euclid. ' 12 to 1-30. Greek. 'I'SO to 3. Hebrew. ' 3 to 4. Constantly to be devoted to walking for my health. ' 4 o'clock. Dinner : after wdiich Mr. Pratt hears my Greek, Hebrew, and Euclid : and then we spend the time till tea in lighter books. * 5 '30 precisely. Tea. ' 6 to 7. Abridging Dr. Home's Commentary on the Psalms, so as to make it my own. ' 7*30 to 8. Divinity, in a strict sense. '8*30. Prayers and then supper; which is onl}^ with us, a passing meal. * Till 10 o'clock reading Adam's Geography : at 10 o'clock, retire.' He was quite alive to the dangers attendant upon close study. To his mother he writes : — ' I would cheerfully send you a long letter, if my time would in any way permit ; but really I am obliged to steal a few 1 Charge in 1845. 179S.] STUDENT LIFE. 45 minutes when I ought to be otherwise employed, to scribble even a note. ' My great fear is, lest from constant application to human learning, I should lose the savour of religion in my heart. I am afraid of being puffed up with pride, and falling into the condemnation of the devil : — afraid of putting means in the place of Christ, and of trusting to literary attainments, instead of the grace and spirit of my Bedeemer. Believe me, I had rather be as illiterate as a ploughboy, with a warm impression of Christ's dying love upon my heart and a single aim to en- throne Him in the souls of my fellow-sinners, than a cold- hearted worldling with all the learning in the universe. ' One thmg let me impress upon yon as a particular favour : that you will be always faithful to my soul. Never shun to tell all that is in your heart, as soon as you perceive or think that you perceive that I am going back into the world, that I am losing my spirituality, or falling into a bigotted narrow spirit. If you knew what a heart I have, 3'our fears for me would be increased, and I trust your intercession on my behalf would be doubly earnest.' Of his own accord he seized every possible opportunity of doing good to those who had been his former companions, and to whom he feared^he might by his example in time past have done harm. Conversations are preserved ; and copies of letters, having this end in view, are still extant ; and in advanced life he was happy enough to know that some of his earliest friends were walking with him as heirs of the grace of life. His new position was soon recognised. In the month of June, referring to a pleasant visit he had paid to an aunt at Highbury, he says : — ' The Lord was with me at family praj^ers this morning, which they made me take. But alas ! I feel so much of abominable pride after it, that the reflection confounds me.' This may be contrasted with his first attempt of a like kind about two years before ; and the account of it may encourage some, by showing with what trembling lips a " man of prayer" 46 THE LIFE OF DANIEL AVILSOX. [chap. III. sometimes begins. Tlie letter was written to a friend, and it refers to a request made to liim hy his uncle, that he should engage in pra3xr with his family in his absence. ' No words can convey any idea at all equal to the intense trouble of my inmost soul on that occasion. The family con- sisted of four men and two female servants, out of whom one onl}^ feared the Lord at the time. Conceive ni}^ feelings if you can ! I am sure I cannot describe them. I was, however, enabled to cry mightily mito the Lord for help, and though my uncle was willing I should make use of a book, and though I was never before engaged in such a service, I was helped to trust the Lord alone. When I first knelt down, I trembled like a leaf from head to foot. I was scarcely able to speak. My liead, as it were, turned round, and I knew not where I was. However, I began ; and the Lord began too ; for my heart was enlarged, and I was enabled to go through the exercise with liberty and satisfaction.' A few extracts shall be now given from his journal. 'Jiclith. them his heart was glad, and when they sufi'ered he suffered with them. The first heavy family affliction occurred in the year 1818, and was occasioned by the death of his daughter Ann, under circumstances peculiarly distressing. She was a child of remarkable promise : her fine understanding, strong affection, and early piety, endeared her to all, and made her a treasure to her parents. She was taken ill with inflammation of the lungs, and the medical attendant entirely mistook her com- plaint. In the morning he had declared that there was no danger : in the evening she was a corpse. Her father had gone up to her room to assist in giving her some medicine with no feeling of apprehension. He took her on his knees ; and whilst she leaned her head upon his shoulder, said to her, " Little Ann must put all her trust in Jesus Christ. Papa is 1SC3— 32.] FAMILY LIFE. 97 praying to Jesus Christ for little Ann." She gave one sigh, and breathed her last. No tongue can describe the first agony of the bereaved mother. She threw her arms round the neck of her father (who was on a visit) almost in distraction, and for the moment refused to be comforted. But this dark hour did but serve to throw out in brighter colours her Christian principles. There was no murmuring against God, and no complaints of His dealings with her. Her mind soon returned to its habitual frame of submission and resignation to His holy will. But she never entirely recovered the shock. The wound never quite healed. To the hour of her death she felt a pang at the recollection of her dear lost child ; and one of her sweetest pleasures was to read toiler other children, the "Memorial" of their little sister's sayings, and i)rayers, and traits of character, which has since attained wide circulation in a publication called " Little Ann." On the following day the bereaved father communicated what had occurred to a friend : — * How can I tell the distressing event ? We have lost our sweet daughter Ann. She died last night in my arms, and has taken our hearts with her; or rather, may she have drawn them more closel}'- to that Saviour into whose bosom she has fled ! She was ill only a few days. Oh, my friend, what a stroke is death when it indeed falls ! We desire to lie in our Saviour's hands, and pray for that holy and beneficial use of affliction wliich He alone can grant. We leave London for AVorton to-morrow. The dear remains of our babe are to follow us on Monday to be interred in tlie family vault. I know all is right. I pray for grace to kiss the hand of my chastening Father. I see more than enough need for this and every other cup of sorrow; and I wish and strive to turn to my Saviour's love, as the solace of the sorrowing heart.' The wound occasioned by the death of " Little Ann " was yet unhealed, when it pleased God again to visit him. His youngest child, William, was seized with alarming illness, and became a source of great and long continued anxiety. Tho VOL. I. H 98 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VI. father himself shall tell the sad tale, as he told it to Mrs. Hannah More in June, 1818 : — * It is impossible for me to describe to you what we are going through. After the sudden death of one child, — a lovely girl, about six years and a half old, — a second child has been seized with sickness, and has now continued for above seven weeks in a most affecting and alarming state. We are watching our dear little boy dying before our eyes. He has been for eight days in perpetual convulsions, except as opiates compose for a time his agitated frame. The afflicted mother hangs over her suffering child with an anguish I cannot describe. ' Thus it pleases our heavenly Father to exercise us with by far the most severe trial we have ever known. * For myself as a minister of the sanctuary, I am quite assured that God in very faithfulness has caused me to be troubled." I want bringing down. The natural tendency of my mind is towards excessive activity and ^bustle, with all the secret love of display and the praise of men which accompanies such a turn of character. I have now gone on seventeen years in the sacred ministry with a large share of health and spirits, and with some success in the great work of reconciliation" entrusted to me. Some late circumstances, in which I had however very little personal effort, have brought me still more before the public eye ; and now my heavenly Father chastens me for my profit, that I may be a partaker of His holiness. He takes me aside from my public duties to private self* examination ; he calls me from preaching to praying ; from the instruction of others to the instruction of myself. He bids me look inward and take the gauge and measure of my heart. He commands me to be silent, and contrite, and interior in my religion. He is preparing me for comforting, perhaps, the minds of others with the comfort wherewith I myself am comforted of God : and whilst he confines me to the chamber of sorrow, is perhaps fitting me in some better manner to discharge those high and elevated duties of a steward of the mysteries of God, which I have so little honoured as I ought. Oh ! that I may learn softness, confession, humility, and tenderness in this school of suffering.' 1S03— 32.] FAMILY LIFE. 99 The illness of this dear child lasted for some months, and at length the conviction was forced upon the minds of the anxious parents that his intellect would be permanently clouded. It was too true. The little boy grew up, an object of solicitude and tender sym^^athy, to the age of five years, and then gently passed away. When this event occurred, his mother was absent, but her husband announced tlie tidings to her by letter, dated June, 1831. ' I am sure you. will be prepared for an}- tidings about our dear William which it may please God to send. We have both felt long the extreme uncertainty of his health, and the sudden changes which might take place at any moment. Do not therefore, my love, be grieved overmuch when I tell you that the dear babe is taken from the troubles and afflictions of this world, to be a glorified and happy spirit before the throne of his Saviour and Redeemer.' He then goes on to describe the symptoms of his illness, the attention of the medical man, the care of nurse and friends, and adds : — * When I wrote to you yesterday I was under no kind of alarm whatever, and fully believed he would have been as well as usual to-day. However, about five o'clock this morning the sweet little fellow breathed his last without a sigh or groan. Everything has been done that could be done : but it luas GocVs will. The dear child is now an angel before the throne of God and of the Lamb. Our prayers for him have been answered in the way God has seen best.' Soon after, he writes to a friend on the same sad subject, from Worton : — ' I have broken up all my engagements and come down here to comfort the absent mother. The remains of the dear child follow me to-morrow. My dear Mrs. Wilson is much calmer than I could have expected. She discerns the H 2 100 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSO^^ [chap. VI. mercy which is shrouded in the tomb. The feeble lamb is now safe in the bosom of the heavenly Shepherd, and with expanded and unobstructed powers is now singing His praise above. Every year on earth would have increased the pain arising from his intellectual deficiency, and the anguish of our anticipa- tions for his future comfort. God has seen fit to provide for him in the best manner. Thus have three children been removed, and one half of our little flock transmitted to the heavenly pastures. May we so nourish the remainder as to fit them by their Shepherd's grace for the same divine glory.' Meanwhile the two elder boys had been growing up. Their grandfather's estate at Worton was their play- ground ; and indeed, their first school also, for they had been early placed under the tuition of the Rev. Mr. Borrows, curate of Worton, and afterwards minister of St. Paul's at Clapham. Fully occupied as their father was, he always made his engagements subservient to their holidays, and often found time to write to them. One letter to each may be given as a specimen of his manner with children. To his son Daniel, then eight years old, he writes on November 5th, in a large round hand : — ' I should have written to you long ago, but I had not a minute to spare. To day is the 5th November, and there will be many bonfires. We think also that there will be an illumination to-night. We often talk of you, for we love yon most dearly. We hope you try to be a good boy. And when you do anything wrong, always confess it at once. Pray to God to make you good. When I was at Norwich I heard the following story : — At a meeting for a Bible Society at Yarmouth, there were a number of tables fastened together at the end of the room for the speakers to stand upon. A fat clergyman was making a very tedious speech, and was so earnest that he was stamping with his feet and throwing himself about : when lo ! just as he was most vehement, the tables slipped asunder, and he fell between them with a tremendous crash, to the sad disturbance of his speech, but the great amusement of the company. He was not at all hurt, but never attempted to finish his oration.' 1803—32.] FAMILY LIFE. 101 Again he writes to Lis son John, then six years okl :— ' Your dear mamma and I lonsf to see their sweet httle Johnny again : and we hope, if it please God, we shall see him when the smnmer comes, if not before. We hope dear Johnny will try all he can to learn ; and that both the dear brothers may be good boys, and -be fitted for useful men, if God spares their lives. Pray try also to be as obedient to J\Ir. Borrows as you can. And love God, for He hath loved you, and sent His Son to die for your sins. And our blessed Saviour said, " Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not." AVhat a happy little boy will you be, if you learn to love and serve Jesus Christ. This will make you happy in this world, and happy when you come to die ! Farewell.' Time rapidly glides on : — and now the anticipations of College life call forth a father's anxious counsel. The following letter was written to his eldest son in the year 1823. Its value will be instantly perceived : — *As you are now going to college, I wish to give you a very few cautions and hints which may be of use to you there : * 1st. Be diligent in your studies, so far as your health will allow. The idle man is open to every temptation. ' 2nd. Be regidar in your morning and evening devotions. Prayer and the readmg of the Holy Scriptures every day will be the means of strengthening you in all that is good, and bringing down God's blessing upon you. ' 3rd. Keep holy the Sabbath. God's day, if well observed, will sanctify the whole week. ' 4th. Never associate with those who fear not God, except so far as absolute duty requires, and then only for the shortest time possible. ' 5th. Let nothing seduce yon to tliink hardly of your manner of education, of your parents, of the piety in which you have been trained, and of home. If these thoughts ever come into your mind, reject them as a great temptation. 10.^ THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VI. ' Gth. Keep up a regular correspondence with your mother and myself, conceal nothing from us, but make us your confi- dants in all things. ' 7th. Avoid extravagance; contract no debts; be upright and punctual in all your dealings, small as well as great. ' 8th. Aim at the subduing of selfishness, self-will, self-con- ceit, self-consequence. Be modest, kind, attentive, obhging, friendly, amiable. * 9th. Take care of your health. Take regular exercise. Eetire early to rest — take from seven to eight hours' sleep — and rise early when you are well. ' 10th. Avoid faults ; but when you commit them, guard against a spirit of self -justification. Acknowledge them frankly, and repair them as quickly as possible. ' 11th. Remember the end for which you go to college is to qualify you for future usefulness as an humble, laborious, patient, minister of the Gospel of Christ. The academical knowledge you acquire is no just source of pride ; but rather of fear, lest you should not use it aright. ' 12th. Constantly implore the grace of God's blessed Spirit to enable you to do all these things ; for it is only by Divine Grace we can really and constantly do our duty to God and man ; and, after all, our defects are so innumerable, and our sins so aggravated, that we must put our whole trust for acceptance in the alone merits of our Lord Jesus Christ. The Christian is not a perfect man ; but he is sincere. He really aims at serving God in the Gospel of His Son. His daily ignorances and sins he confesses and forsakes ; and thus, by divine merc}^ he is kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation, and ascribes all his blessings to the merits and death of Jesus Christ, to the influences and grace of the Holy Spirit, and to the undeserved love of God, his Heavenly Father. * To this adorable and Tri-une God I commend you, my dear son. * Saturday, January 11, 1823.' This letter may be followed by another, after his son had entered into residence at Wadham College, Oxford : — 1803—32.] FAMILY LIFE. 103 ' I am quite willing that you sliould sit for the scholarship, on the express condition of not over-reading, of not sitting up later than ten or eleven o'clock, of not neglecting your exercise, and of not going on a day longer if your health should begin to fail. ' My object is invariably the same : to make you a pious, useful, upright, humble servant of God. Learning is merely furniture— means— an appendage — a qualification. The end of life is to serve God, to save the soul, to do good in our genera- tion, and to be prepared for heaven. * The union of diligence and humility : this is what I would aim at myself, and impress on others, and especially on those whom I love best — my children.' In the year 1825, John Wilson joined his brother Daniel at Oxford, and the father's sympathies were still more strongly moved : — * We are always talking or thinking of you. God bless you both. Eemember, my beloved sons, that the effectual grace of God infused by the Holy Ghost is necessary for you daily, to strengthen your resolutions, to quicken faith and prayer, and to guard your hearts in the fear of God. His Grace is a secret operation, not distinguishable from the workings of your own minds except by its effects. It is also to be sought for in the use of means ; but it is still the mighty principle of all religious feelings and duties. This doctrine keeps the Christian from pride, self-confidence, and presumption, on the one hand, and comforts and encourages him in all his efforts on the other.' Again the scene changes ; and now the ordination of his eldest son draws near. A few days previously he whites to him as follows : — ' The date I have already referred to (1801) reminds me of the vows I undertook at that period, and in the obhgation of which you are about to share. A study of the epistles to Timothy and Titus, upon your knees, is the best preparation 101 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VI. for the office of the sacred ministr3^ The whole secret lies in three things : Christ — immortal souls — self-humiliation. ' The first is our theme, our song, our gior}^ our hope, our joy ! It includes Kedemption, the Holy Ghost, the title and pledges of tlie heavenly inheritance. ' The second is the great object of all our labours. To estimate the value of souls — to gauge eternity — to sum up everlasting happiness and misery as at the door — all dependent on our zeal, our faithfulness, our skill, under God : this is inconceivable ! ' The third regards our own spirit and conduct before God and man. * Each is essential. ' God Almighty bless, preserve, and sanctify you. Farewell.' A few more lines w^ere sent to greet his son on the morning of his ordination, December 31st, 1828 : — ' You will receive this on the morning of your ordination. Let me assure you of the fatherly affection and tenderness with which I think of you on this important occasion. May God, our blessed Saviour, make you a chosen vessel unto himself, to bear His name before a lost world.' This ordination was soon followed by a presentation to the rectory of Worton, and a most happy marriage : in both which events the father took the liveliest interest. One letter to his new daughter (for he opened his heart at once, and enshrined her there) when sickness had entered the household and caused deep anxiety, will serve to illustrate his tenderness and sympathy. ' Do not be cast down, my dearest dear Lucy. God has reasons for all He does, both as to the time and manner of acting, — both as to the persons, the malady, the severity of the attack, the continuation or relaxation of the symptoms, and the effects on those around. Then take up the book and read : the promises will shine with brighter light ; the grace of Christ will burst upon the soul with softer and sweeter glory ; the 1803—32.] FAMILY LIFE. 105 communion of the heart with the Hol}^ Spirit in penitence and silence will be more interior; the gloom of this valley of humiliation and sorrow Avill be illustrated with brighter rays of anticipation of final deliverance ; the prospect of heaven will open in richer and more various blessings. ' Adieu ! AVe cannot see the glory of Christ ix the storm, unless we embark with him in the vessel. Afflictions make us to embark, for we are backward to go on board ; we linger on the shore ; God in love constrains us : it is His very word to " get into the ship, and cross over to the other side." Then Christ comes to us, " walking upon the waves." We are affrighted. He says, " It is I, be not afraid ! " He has been praying for us on the mountain. He saw us toiling in rowdng, even though he was absent. ' Thus Jesus thinks of us. Jesus prays for us. Jesus comes to us in the moment of extremity ; and accomplishes His will in us, and glorifies His great name.' But whilst thus cheered with the opening prospects of his elder son, dark clouds were gathering around the younger — the " sweet little Johnny " of an earlier day. In the morning of life, no one ever showed fairer promise than that much- loved boy. He grew extremely like his father in j)erson : w^as vigorous, active, good-tempered, cheerful, and an universal favourite. " If ever any one could have made me doubt the corruption of human nature," said his wise and observant grandfather, "it would have been John Wilson ! " But, alas ! that very cheerfulness and amiability of character which made him a favourite with the good, exposed him to the seductions of the bad. The preparation for college, and college itself, proved an ordeal through which he could not pass. Perhaps he had not found his fitting sphere ; perhaps a secular and more stirring life might have harmonised better with his disposition and cast of mind. Be this as it may : the fears of all who loved, and watched him wdth tender anxiety, were too surely confirmed. He listened to evil counsellors ; formed loose habits ; fell into bad company ; and finally, with his father's cognisance and acquiescence, retired to the Continent. 106 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VI. To these sad events the following extracts refer. They may serve to show to other parents, the resource of the troubled heart : — 'What a scene of folly, blindness, and perverseness does human nature exhibit ! With everything to supply his wants and even gratify his moderate desires, my unhappy son rushes into misery under the name of pleasure, and defies both God and man. * Such is the dignified, rational, and elevated creature, formed originally after the image of his glorious Creator, and capable of some measure of his felicity ! * The FACT of human depravity, who can doubt, who knows his own heart, or sees the fruits of folly in the young around him ? I know I have your prayers. I have found it exceed- ingly hard to bear up under this affliction, which duiing the last two months has been threatening me — I mean, that I find submission, resignation, hope, patience, active and calm exertion, hard. I find faith, love, repose in God, hard. Indeed, I do not know when I have suffered more from inward temptations of various kinds than during this season. Satan has come in like a flood, and in ways I could least expect. Still, I hope my deliberate judgment is, that God is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." I know He cannot but do what is right wdth me. I know His grace can magnify itself in the most imminent perils. I know that my own sins as a man, a parent, and a minister, deserve far more than I have suffered. I know that this dispensation is designed to humble, teach, and purify. How can I fail to preach more feelingly to sinners, when I have such a memento in my own house ? ' Again, on Nov. 6th, he wiites to his friend : — * My poor, poor boy, I have sent abroad, as you know. God Almighty, have mercy and bring to Himself the ahenated mind of this sinful prodigal. " When he came to himself " — what an expression ! So did Newton, and Cecil, and Buchanan in later times ; and Augustine and Ambrose in former ages. I 1803—32.] FAMILY LIFE. 107 believe this visitation is intended, among other lessons, to teach me the fall of man more deeply ; the doctrine of special grace ; the inefhciency of all means in themselves (the two boys had a precisely similar education) ; the vanity of creature expecta- tions ; the bankruptcy (as Cecil said) of domestic, as well as every other source of human joy ; the excellency and conso- lation of the gospel as a spring of hope ; the value of the Bible, and the promises of heavenly repose.' John Wilson never ceased to be the object of his father's anxious thoughts and earnest prayers, but they met no more ! After sojourning in several places on the Continent, he finally settled at Bagneres de Bigorre on the Pyrenees. There he was seized with a fatal illness. His father was in India ; but his brother hastened over; and a hurried journey of a thousand miles brought him to his brother's bedside on the 13th August, 1833 :— " Oh ! my dear, dear brother," was the first exclamation, " that you should have come this long way to see your poor dying brother ! Let me look at you ! You will stay with me and pray with me ? " When a little calmer, he made his confession in these words : — " I feel myself to be the greatest of sinners, the vilest wretch that ever lived ! No one has been so wicked ! But the Bible tells me, ' Him that cometli unto me, I will in no wise cast out.' * I have tried to pray. I hope God has heard me, but I cannot tell." Five large and deep abscesses rendered life miserable and death inevitable ; but the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availetli much : and the prodigal had " come to himself." All the marks of true penitence were discernible, and the words in the parable were exactly descriptive of the state of his mind : ^ The text of his father's first sermon. "Was this a link in the chain of answers to prayer ? 108 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [CIIAP. VI. Father, I have sinned against lieaven and before Thee, and am no more worthy to be called Thy son." His greatest earthly desire had been to see his brother, and his greatest fear lest he should have been taken first. He had no wish to live ; nay, so great was his self-distrust, and so thorough his conviction of his own weakness, that he wished to die. His mind had been for nearly a year in great wretchedness and misery. Conviction of sin and pride of heart had been fiercely struggling, but shame had kept him silent. He fell ill on the 24tli of May. At first he was in the most dreadful state of terror and despair ; for he felt that sin had found him out. He could not pray ; and nothing gave him comfort. At length a gleam of hope seemed to break through the gloom. He was enabled to cry for mercy, and grace began to work. *' I feel myself now," he said, " the vilest of sinners ; but I believe I have found mercy in the blood of Christ. Is it not written, ' His blood cleanseth from all sin ? ' " Tell my father that I die a true penitent. The great burden on my conscience is my horribly, horribly vile conduct towards my father ! I bless God for this afiiiction. Less than this would not have brought me to Him. I dread to recover, lest I should fall back into the world." He talked earnestly to his wife and friends on the subject of eternity. He loved his Bible. His favourite text was, " There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth." He was patient under the most intense sufi'erings, and thankful for every mercy and every alleviation. He received the holy sacrament humbly, and found it a means of grace to his soul. As the hour of death drew near, he seemed to become more and more prepared for that great change. "My sufferings are nothing," he said, "to what sin deserves. How much has Christ suffered for me." Looking back upon the past, he said, " How many sabbaths 3803—32.] FAMILY LIFE. 109 Lave I lost ! How many privileges abused ! What infinite mercy, that I, the chief of sinners, should obtain pardon ! " " You see," he said, to one of his gay friends, " what I suffer. It is religion alone that supports me at this hour. Oh ! do not neglect religion. Do not put it off." His weakness increased. Delirium supervened ; and on the 27th August, 1833, he departed this life. He lies in the cemetery at Bagneres, in a plot of ground chosen by his brother, and afterwards purchased by his father and enclosed. His remains were followed to the tomb by many friends to whom of late he had been much endeared, and over him the words of our devout Burial Service were read by his sorrowing brother. He rests in that distant grave till the morning of the Resurrection day : adding solemn emphasis to the words of Holy Scripture, that " the wages of sin is death ; " and that Christ "is able to sa'te to the uttermost all that come unto God by him." The chapter of Daniel Wilson's Family Life is now concluded. Two children were left. God had spared two : a son to succeed him at Islington, and a daughter to accompany him to India. In process of time, these' have become two bands ; and he lived to hear himself called " grandfather " and " great-grandfather." The grandchildren of the one family are Daniel Frederic Wilson and Katherine his wife, Lucy, Wilberforce, Emily, (Fanny, deceased) Louisa, Ellen, Edward, and Arthur. The grandchildren of the other family are Alice Wilson Bateman, Hugh, Gertrude, and Marian Amy. The great-grandchildren are Daniel Leathes AYilson and Ada. Reader! when this cluster of j^oung names meets your eye, let prayer ascend, that they may be written in the Lamb's book of life, and that Daniel Wilson " may never want a man " to stand before God for ever. CHAPTER VII. OXFORD AND WORTON. 1804—1809. Assistant Tutorship at Oxford — Reflections — Retirements of Mr. Croucli— Sole Tutor — His Pupils — His Manner — "Bands Wilson" — His Independent Character — Latin Appeal — Discussion in Convocation — His Walk before God — Sunday at Worton — Nature of the Curacy — Sense of Responsibility — Oxford Vacations— Manner of Preaching — Results of Preaching — Mr. William Wilson, of Worton — Memorial- Call to St. John's, Bedford Row — Difficulties — Final Settlement — Retrospect. AVe must now leave the path trodden by little feet, which has led us far in advance, and return to the highwa3\ In the year 1804, Daniel Wilson was residing -svith his family in the High Street, Oxford. His collegiate duties occu- pied him during the week, and he officiated as curate of Worton on the Sundays. His connection with Oxford lasted, in the whole, eight years and a half. From January, 1804, to January, 1807, he was assistant tutor at St. Edmund's Hall ; and from January, 1807, to June, 1813, was sole tutor and Vice -Principal. Mid- way— that is, in the year 1809 — he resigned the curacy of Worton, and took charge of St. John's Chapel, Bedford Row, as successor to Mr. Cecil. Having secured a house in Chapel Street, Bloomsbury, he removed his family there in June, 1811; but another twelvemonth elapsed before he finally resigned his official duties at Oxford to the Eev. John Hill, who had been a pupil trained under his own eye, and gave himself up exclu- sively to the work of the ministry. It is this sketch which has to be filled up in the present chapter. The materials are but scanty, for the life of a college tutor presents few striking incidents, and the curriculum of his daily duties is somewhat monotonous. There is succession, but little change. 180i— 1809.] OXFORD AND WORTON. Ill The feelings with which he contemplated his new scene of dut}^ are gTaphically described in a Latin letter to a friend before he had left Chobham : — * I leave Chobham with gi'eat regret. My heart is bound here by all the chains of love, and the ties of gratitude and affection. Whereas everything unknown daunts the mind. I fear Oxford. I tremble to think of its Dons, and its duties, and the general tone and colouring of its maxims and opinions. I cannot forget the past. I cannot but dread to encounter new trials, new men, new pursuits, with a variety of difficulties and temptations hitherto unknown, unheard, mithought of. But to shrink, would prove me faithless. I undertake the office, not of my own will, but from a sense of duty. As God then is the author, so I hope He will be the helper. Under Chiist's guidance none need despair.' "When he had really entered upon his duties, his position at St. Edmund's Hall was of a subordinate character. " Mr. Crouch guides and governs," he says, wiiting to his friend ]\Ir. Cawood, in May, 1804. "I lean upon his counsel, and gladly listen to his most gentle words. Those duties which he assigns to me, I perform with all my might. Primary matters belong, as they ought, to liim : the secondary matters, sucli as matlie- matics, logic, and the sciences, belong to me. I have to study much myself ; and I have also tln-ee private pupils. It is wonderful how all this occupies me : so that diuing term time, I have not a moment to spare." He foresees the danger of his position. Writing from Worton to the same friend during the long vacation, he says : — ' X like my position. Everything falls out as I could wish. But I see many dangers looming in the distance. My heart is already becoming entangled in worldly studies, so that divine things lose their savour. I wish to count all things loss for Christ. I wish to love and cherish divine concerns ; but pride, ambition, secular pursuits, and cares, beset me and make my path slippery and insecure. Pray for me/ lU THE LIFE OF DAKIEL WILSON. Two years sufficed to give reality to these fears. [chap. VII. ' Aur/ust 8, 180G. ' It would require not merely letters, but volumes, to tell j^ou all my inward conflicts and anxieties. My soul is sick. I am perplexed and overborne with college and university business. I have wandered from God. You would not believe, my friend, how weak my mind is, how perturbed, not to say hardened, so that I feel no love for sacred things, nor derive any profit from them. Sin, disguising itself in the form of those literary i^ursuits in which I am engaged, has deceived, wounded, and almost slain me. I scarcely see Christ, and scarcely love Him. That glow and fervour which I used to feel spreading over my whole soul is extinguished. Well do I know that I have grieved the Holy Spirit. Literature, books, reputation, position, and all that class of evils which need not be enume- rated to one who know^s the heart, like some insidious disease, are undermining my strength. I can all but see the poison circulating in my veins. What ought I to do ? I want to know what you think, and what you advise. I find myself surrounded by difficulties, in a position which, but for my own fault, w^ould be easy and pleasant. It is quite clear that my soul is in a bad state ; that I want counsel, w^atchfulness, and diligence; and that I am nourishing in my bosom a bitter enemy, whom with aU my i3ower I ought to drive out and keep out.' As yet, how^ever, there w^as no deliverance. On the contrary, in the year 1807, his duties w^ere largely increased by the retirement of Mr. Crouch. During the Christmas vacation he writes to the same friend from Worton : — * January, 1807. ' Our friend Mr. Crouch has now resigned to me the whole management of the Hall; and, utterly incompetent, I am left alone. I can scarcely yet tell what I am to do, Mid what leave undone. Nevertheless, I must follow the leadings of God's providence. * The number of young men in the Hall at present, and the 1S04— 1809.] OXFORD AND WOilTON. 113 measure of their attainments are not, perhaps, beyond my reach ; but what plans may be adopted for the future I knov,- not. You will easily understand how much I am engaged, when I tell you that this next term I have to lecture on Aristotle and the tragedies of .Eschylus: that the New Testa- ment has to be critically and copiously dealt with, and Aldrich's " Ars logica " to be entered on. I will do what I can. If I cannot do for my pupils all that my wishes and the duties of my office require, yet nothing shall be wanting that goodwill, kindness, and careful study can accomplish. It seems to me that my main object must be so to instruct them in the saving knowledge of God, and so to imbue their minds (as much as in me lies) with true piety, that, however little they may profit by me in secular matters, they may nevertheless learn to love God, to believe in Christ, to despise and reject the vain traditions and fancies of men, to estimate aright the value of the soul, and to know and be ready to proclaim the excellent glorj^ of the Cross. If they know and understand these things savingly and experimentally, they know all. * So far as all this goes, my opinions remain unchanged and immoveable : though I know^ well that I am unable to foUov/ them diligently, or carry them out successfully by my own power and might.' Actuated by such motives, he entered upon his duties wdtli energy and corresponding effect. The Hall increased in numbers, and rose in reputation, without losing its distinctive character for piety. The plans he refers to were carried into effect. Greek, Latin, ethics, logic, and mathematics, had each their place, whilst weekly lectures w-ere given in the New Testament. These were carefull}^ prepared and duly appre- ciated. Each man present read a few verses from the Greek, and was then expected to render them into Latin. An explanation and comment by the tutor followed. His remarks were both critical and practical. Commentators of various kinds lay upon the table, and were constantly referred to. The doctrines of Holy Scripture were laid down with great force and clearness. All fanciful matters were passed by, with a word of caution or condemnation ; but primary truths were VOL. I. I 114 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. Yir. dwelt on -VN-itli the utmost earnestness and solemnity. Thus the attention was arrested and the heart impressed ; and it is the testimon}^ of those few excellent and able men who still survive and retain the impression of these lectures, that they were much blessed of God, and led many young men to a saving knowledge of the truth, and a glad entrance into the ministr3\ The plan of inviting the undergraduates in small parties to the familiar intercourse of the house and table was also con- tinued b}^ the Vice-Principal. His lady was always present with her gentle courtesy and kindly greeting, and this, with the introduction of the children, helped to break through the formality of these parties. But still they are said to have wanted ease. They were made too much a matter of business and duty. The desire to do good was too obvious to be pleasant; and the family prayers which closed the evening were oftentimes personal and monitory. The truth appears to be, that in spite of the interest felt in his pupils, and of his real desire to promote their welfare, he held them at the full academical distance. And though he could and did often relax into all the mirth and buoyancy of health and high spirits, yet his general bearing was grave and distant. He found it easier to condescend than to unbend. " When we called," says an old pupil, " at the beginning of term to pay our respects, somewhat unmindful perhaps of our personal appearance, his welcome would be of this kind — ' I am very glad to see you, sir ; but, Mr. , where are your bands ? ' " He was very strict in the enforcement of university regu- lations upon others, and in the observance of them himself. He was almost the last man who wore bands, and thus obtained for himself the sobriquet of "Bands Wilson." The men of his Hall were required not only to attend the Sunday morning sermon in St. Mary's, but to give in on the Monday a brief analysis of it. His character, however, rose far above all his peculiarities. His pupils honoured, admired, and still remember him with 1S04— 1809.] OXFOKD AND A70RT0N. 115 tlis most affectionate regard ; and his influence was felt to a certain extent, over all the univer&ity. He was uncom- promising in his religious principles, and fearless in the avowal of them; and no academical authority, nor conven- tional usage, could silence him when any sense of injustice, or desire to right those who had suffered wrong, required him to speak. One instance occurred in the j-ear 1807. A young man of his own Hall had gone up to be examined for his degree. He had been prepared in divinity, logic, ethics, and mathematics ; and his books were Horace, Quintilian, and Cicero de Officiis in Latin ; with Homer and Thucydides in Greek. It so happened that he was the first man called upon by the examiners, and the first book i^ut into his hands was Horace, with which he was least familiar. Being of a nervous tem- perament, he soon lost his self-possession, and became confused. Horace swam before Ifis eyes, and his translation was incorrect. Considerate examiners would have given him time to recover himself, or have tried him in one of the other Latin books, or allowed good Greek to balance bad Latin. But in the present case they did nothing of the sort. Neither Quintilian, nor Cicero, nor Homer, nor Thucydides were ever opened. Some few questions were asked in the sciences, but so few and so superficial, that they could not be supposed sufficient to alter what looked like a foregone, or, certainly, a hasty con- clusion. And the result was a summary dismissal, and a refusal to grant the required " testamur." Who would not sympathise with such a case ? But the sympathy of the tutor was mingled with righteous indig- nation ; and careless alike of precedent or of consequences, he Avrote, printed, and circulated amongst all the members of Convocation, a full statement of the case, with very spirited comments, in which he charged the examiners with undue haste or unfairness, and vindicated his pupil from the slur cast upon his name, and the injury done to his prospects. A single cop5^ of this statement remains, and it seems to be the only authentic record in existence of what made a great impression on the whole university, and was the subject of conversation in every " common room " at the time. ]Most I 2 116 THE LIFE OF DAKIEL WILSON. [OHAP. VII. Oxford men of that day remember it, but few have seen it. It is too long for insertion here, but two extracts may be given : — ' The distinct grounds, then, of Mr. Wilson's solemn com- plaints in this unprecedented affair are, that when his pupil had performed indifferently in Horace, his second book was not so much as entered upon ; that, however he might be con- sidered by the masters as a man of suspicious attainments, he was not treated as such ; that the conduct of his examination was not sedulous and accurate, but so cursory and superficial, that when he had answered with readiness everything that was proposed to him, he was not so much as allowed to proceed so as to secure his testamur : that thus his failure is to be attributed, not to his want of ability to reply, but to a deficiency of inquiries on the part of the masters ; that his examination was such as to preclude the recovery of his recollection when he was most perturbed, or the display of his real knowledge when he could most completely command his feelings ; that if the design of the examination be to estimate the actual state of the candidate's progress in literature, the present candidate has, to all intents aud purposes, not been examined at all ; and that, in a word, if the best x^repared student in the university had appeared under similar circumstances, the result of such a trial must of necessity have been the same.' The statement ends thus : — ' This statement is made by Mr. Wilson in the most accu- rate and impartial manner, from this only motive, that he may rescue Mr. from an ignominy which he is very far from deserving. Mr. Wilson is aware that his only support is the clear integrity of his cause. His society is small, and little known to the university. But the grand foundations of justice should be common to all. And if the members of small colleges are to be overlooked in the examining school, and subjected to neglect, or caprice, or injustice, the consequences to the reputation of the university may be easily imagined, as well as to tlie feelings of those gentlemen who will have to 1804—1809.] OXFORD AND WORTON. 117 learn, that no diligence of preparation, or superiority of attain- ments, can in every case ensure tlieir success. * St. Edmund's Hall, Oxford, ' May IS, 1807.' But the matter did not end with this spirited remonstrance. It was shortly after revived in Convocation, and w^e get a glimpse into the interior of that assembly, comprising, as it did and does, all that is dignified and venerable in the university. Though young in years and standing, Daniel AVilson seems to have accustomed himself to take j)art in the discussions of that body : and notes of several speeches made there by him still remain. No doubt it Avas a formidable undertaking, and one of wdiicli comparatively few were capable ; but with fluency in Latin, and a good cause, he feared nothing. It appears that a discussion had been raised on a statute, by which it was proposed to improve the mode of examination ; and when there had been much disputing, a distinguished individual referred to Mr. Wilson, and to the bearing of the statement he had published upon the statute under discussion. He rose when thus appealed to, and after apologising for his youth and inexperience, and approving of the proposed statute (most probably that by w4iich the " classes " were established), with certain qualifications, he proceeded to speak for himself: — 'I cannot but acknowledge,' he says, 'that our warmest thanks are due to those eminent persons to whom we owe this statute. If I myself have done anything which might seem to lower the character of your examination, it has been with great reluctance, and because I felt compelled to do it. I acted deliberately and unwillingly : — not from any preconceived plan of my own, but from a sense of dut}^ — not from motives of self-will, but from the promptings of my ofl&ce — not from a love of party, but from a painful yet stern necessity. I had no wish to injure the reputation of the eminent persons concerned in the matter, for I well know that they sustain the highest character for ability and learning. I conceive that their error may be ascribed to negligence, mistake, or carelessness. But what I myself did, was done to rescue, and in some degree 118 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [CIIAP. VII. restore, the character of a young man of ability, probit}-, and well furnished mind, from what seemed to me shameful and undeserved reiu'oach. That he deserved his " testamur," I knew. It was not with me a matter of opinion merely, but of certainty. I did not listen to report, but spoke from personal knowledge. I was not present at what passed — yet I realised it all. Nor could I hesitate for a moment to step forward, when I perceived that his character was in my hands, and that he relied on me alone. ' I beg you to forgive me, if I have offended in any Avay against the practice of this House in what I have now said. But standing in a new character, I have adopted a new and un- usual mode of appeal. I have only to express a hope in conclusion that the statute now under consideration, and whatever else may be designed to promote the dignity and honour of the university, may be ever attended with happ}^ and prosperous results.' A university is not easily moved: but all this must have made "no small stir" in it: and the good effects may have been real though not ostensible. Many an examiner may have preserved his calmness, and many a young aspirant gained his testamur, from reflections suggested by this manly appeal. It required more real courage and decision of character from the tutor of St. Edmund's Hall, than it would have done from the Head of Christ- Church, Brazenose, or Oriel.' This is his walk before men: what was his walk before God? Let his journal tell the process of self-examination. He is preparing for the reception of the holy sacrament ; and retiring into his chamber he communes with his own heart, and his spirit makes diligent search. He says : — ' I hope to receive on the morrow, and by faith to feed on, the most blessed body and blood of Jesus Christ. I wish therefore to examine into my true state before God, that my repentance may be deepened, divine grace obtained from the fountain head, and my dedication renewed. ' 1. What of my faith ? It is unstable and weak. The un- 1S04— 1809.] OXFORD AND AYORTOX. 119 edifying books I am obliged to read, and the variety of secular studies in which I am engaged, vex and harass my soul. I strive to repel the doubts which they suggest, and do not wil- lingly give i^lace to them: but nevertheless they weaken my strength and chill my soul, so that I scarcely feel the power of faith, except now and then when my heart gets touched and softened. Grant, Lord, that on the morrow my faith may be confirmed, and all unbelief removed. ' 2. What of my love ? Alas! it is languid and cold. Lately it has revived whilst I have been reading devotional books : but for many months previously it has been heavy and cast down. Literary pursuits and the love of sin have robbed me of it : and now I cannot raise, or retain for ever so short a time, any fervent desii'es after God my Saviour. Grant, Oh Holy Spirit ! that on the morrow my hard heart may be softened by Thy grace; that my love, burning so dimly, may be rekindled to a flame ; >and that all hindrances being laid aside, I may love and follow God as my chief joy. ' 3. What of my Ufe ? Here also sin abounds. I swell with pride of all kinds. My heart is full of it. I groan also under corrupt affections. Grant, Lord Jesus ! that on the morrow I may abhor myself and my past life, and determine to live with more humility, purity, and chastity. May every corruption be crucified. ' 4. Am I exercising Christian watchfulness / I have been somewhat stirred up of late by reading Dr. Owen. But a relapse soon comes. Heart, affections, mind, temper, studies, life, all need watching. Grant to me. Lord, that constant vigilance, that I may be found ready when Thou shalt come. ' 5. Do my sacred duties flourish ? In these, the power is of God alone. I often find great enjoyment in them. But I want to get nearer to the consciences of men. I do not love my hearers as I ought, nor aim enough at their salvation : rather do I seem to desire their good opinion and applause. When hearts are touched I do not give the whole glory to God. Grant, Almighty God, that I may be more diligent in duty, that I may deal more closely with conscience, that I may bring home to myself the truths I preach to others, that I may 120 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [(riAP, VII. love the flock more, and always be looking to Tliee for the grace I need. ' 6. Hoiv is it ivith my academical duties ? Never yet have I been able to discharge them aright. But I trust henceforth, by God's help, not only to promote the studies of my pupils, but to form their manners, hearts, and principles, and to instruct them carefully in the Holy Scriptures. Nothing can be done effectually if the heart remain unmoved. I Avish also so to order my own words and actions, sermons, tempers, manners, that all may tend to promote their edification. * 7. Finally, O blessed Lord ! to whom all the secrets of my heart are open, I beseech Thee to draw me to Thyself. AVhen I present myself at Thy table, do Thou move upon my soul, incline me to Thy will, fill me with Thy love, purge away my sins, purify my affections, and fit me for the discharge of all the duties to which I am called ; that so, refreshed by the body and blood of Thy dear Son, I may love Thee fervently, follow Thee gladly, flee from all sin, carefully perform every duty, and thus be more and more prepared for that glory which Thou hast promised to all the regenerate through Thy Son Jesus Christ.' But this picture of his dail}^ life at Oxford would be very incomplete if his Sundays at Worton were not introduced. Allusions to Worton have frequently been made already, but no details have been given. There are two Wortons : Upper and Lower. They are villages lying between Banbury and Woodstock, in Oxfordshire, and their united population, con- sisting of farmers and agricultural labourers, does not exceed two hundred. Two small churches aff'ord to them the means of religious worship. When, with some reluctance, Daniel Wilson first accepted the curacy, everything had fallen into sad neglect. The curate had been a keen sportsman. He kept his hunters, and was one of the most eager to ride across country. The neighbouring clergy were like-minded; and the discussion at clerical parties turned chiefly on country sports. Five ser- vices were performed by the curate of Worton on the Sunday, so that the utmost speed w^as necessary. The old clerk was sent down from Upper to Lower AVorton (about three quarters of a i'PER WOR'J'ON CHUKCH IN ISOi. Vol. I., page ICO. ISO 1—1809.] OXFORD AND WORTON. 121 mile) the moment that morning prayer was ended, and he could rarely get down and begin to toll the bell, before the curate, having finished his sermon, was down upon him and ready to begin. Two or three stragglers were driven in, and the second service was hurried over like the first. Such ministrations pro- duced their due efi'ect, and the congregations consisted generally of not more than fifteen or twenty persons. The contrast between all this and the earnest ministry of Daniel Wilson, must have been very striking. The following letter, addressed to his mother at the close of the year 1803, will show the spirit with which he entered upon his duties : — ' December 30, 1803. * I am called a labourer, a minister, a steward, an ambas- sador, a worker with God : may I fulfil the solemn duties which these titles imply, and which they require of me ! An idle labourer, a careless minister, an unfaithful steward, ' a false ambassador, a sleeping watchman, will bring down upon himself a tenfold destruction. * I wish, my dear mother, to be more like Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus, and learning his words ; I wish to be more like Isaiah, who cried aloud and spared not, m showing his people their transgressions, and the house of Israel their sins ; I wish to be more like St. Paid, instant in season and out of season, reproving, rebuking, exhorting, Avith all long-sufi'ering and doctrine ; above all, it is my prayer to have in me the same mind which was also in Christ Jesus, to have Christ formed in me, to walk worthy of the Lord unto all well-pleasing, being fruitful in every good work, and abounding in the knofvledge of God. * I have now two parishes on my hands, where death and sin and darkness have reigned uncontrolled. Jesus is here unknown, grace is here a stranger, holiness is neither under- stood nor desired. All is under the power of the " strong man armed." But the Bible teaches me a charm which has a sovereign efficacy : — " I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me." " The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God:' " We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God and not of us." 122 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VII. * These are my first principles. This is m}^ system. I desire to preach " peace by Jesus Christ," and then pray to the spirit of Jesus to apply it savingly to the heart and conscience. I am only ashamed that I do it so weakly and imperfectly.' During the Oxford vacations his work at Worton was easy and pleasant, hut during term time, it involved considerable labour. He was responsible, as tutor, for the morning and evening prayers in his Hall ; and when he could not get the duty otherwise supplied, he had to officiate himself, and then hasten over, sixteen miles, for the Worton services. But this was not usualty necessary. His general plan was to leave Oxford in a post-chaise about eight o'clock, so as to arrive in ample time for morning service ; and then to return in the same conversance, after service in the evening. His sermons at this time were nearly if not entirely extem- pore, and by their simple language, stiiTing appeals, and faith- ful exhibition of the truth, were admirably adapted to his hearers. His texts were generally chosen from amongst those which involve great and primary truths; and being clearly explained and strongly enforced, were never forgotten. There are many old people still living, who, though they cannot recal his sermons, will repeat his texts. He seemed to throw off all the trammels of scholastic life, and to enter into the feelings, and use the language familiar to village congregations. His illustrations were drawn from all common country objects and occupations — the seed, the sack, the common ; or, the farmer, husbandman, and gardener. On one occasion he had been preaching on the resurrecftion of the body, and had dwelt upon the djing of the grain of wheat ere it springs up to new life. Two farmers were standing by the church porch after service, when one remarked, " There, you see, he knows a'most everything. He told us truly how the seed dies afore it grows. He is not like our parson, who scarcely knows the difference between a cow and the moon." " I remember," said a labouring man, who had been referred to for recollections of these days, "when one time he was speaking of victory over sins of the heart, and he impressed his 1804—1809.] OXFORD AND WORTON. 123 thoughts upon us, by saying in his earnest way, ' Now, if you want to subdue sin in your hearts, you must encourage all that is holy there. He who will keep tares out of the sack, must fill it up with wheat.' " Decldington is a large village in the immediate neighbour- hood, and its common was being enclosed : " Mark ! " he said, the way to Heaven is not like an open common with very many ways running through it, but a road fenced on both sides by the word of God." Occasionally, there was a rapidity of utterance in the pulpit, and an impetuosity of manner ; but this was not habitual or constant. His delivery was quiet and deliberate, and so distinct that the whole sermon was often taken down, in common writing, from his lips. He was very close in his appeals to conscience, and so solemn and impressive in his warnings and exhortation, as to produce a trembling awe. " Pray do not let Mr. Wilson preach here again," said a lady to her minister in an adjoining parish, he alarms one so ! " And this was doubtless sometimes true, for he was in earnest, and could almost say with the Apostle, " Whether we be beside ourselves, it is to God ; and whether we be sober, it is for your cause : for the love of Christ constraineth us." (1 Cor. v. 13.) The effect of all this was not sudden, but progressive, and it may encourage some who think that they are labouring in vain, and spending their strength for nought, to listen to his own account. In July, 1804, he writes to his friend Mr. Pearson : " My Worton flock improves very little, if you speak of true religion. T cannot, however, say that my ministry has been altogether unsuccessful." In May, 1806, he writes again, "We are going on well in our churches. The congregations are numerous and attentive ; and on Sunday last we had fifty- eight communicants. I hope the Lord is doing something for us, and that several are seeking a better country, even a heavenly." Again, in January, 1807 : *'A certain measure of success attends me at AVorton. The congregations are numerous for the place. They hear and receive gladly the divine Word, but very few attain to salvation. Pour upon us, 0 Holy Spirit, thy heavenly grace, that the dead may hear thy voice and live." During the long vacation of the same year, he says : " Affairs THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VII. prosper now at Worton. We have a Wednesday service as well as on Sundays. The church is crow^ded. It is delightful to see such a great company listening to the Word of Grace : whilst we may hope that many will be endued with divine life, and attain to heavenly blessedness." These prayers were heard ; these hopes realised ; these efforts crowned with success. The Word of the Lord had free course, and was glorified. A great impression was produced all over that part of the county, and multitudes began to attend his ministry from more than twenty villages and towns around Worton. They crowded the little churches, hung around the windows, filled the churchyard, and on one occasion no less than one hundred and sixty communicants assembled round the Lord's table. Though he seldom left his own people, yet on one occasion, in compliance with the wishes of his brethren, he consented to preach in three different churches on the same Sunday. As the distance was on the whole very considerable, he was driven round in his father-in-law's carriage. As the carriage was waiting at the last church to take him home, the old family coachman heard two farmers who had just come out of church conversing with one another. "Well, friend," said one, "What think you of this gentleman ? " " Why, I think he is a preacher." " Well," said the first, " I only know I have followed him all round, and heard him preach three times to-day ! " "Can you tell me," said a stout farmer to a clergyman, " whether Mr. Wilson will preach anywhere in the county next Sunday ? If so, sure I shall hear him." One pious woman, who had no special claims upon her, used to spend the week in going to and fro to hear him. She lived at a distance of eight or nine miles, and not being able to walk more than two or three a day, had her fixed resting-places. On the Thursday she set off; rested and slept twice on the way; reached Worton on the Saturday ; heard Mr. Wilson on the 180^—1809.] OXFORD AND WOIITON. 125 Sunday ; set out on her return on Monday ; and reached home on Wednesday, in time to set out again on Thursday. " I thank God," said a labouring man, " that I have been able to come the whole distance of seven miles to Worton church for eight years, without missing more than two Sundays." " But surely the long walk must sadly weary you ? " " Nay," he replied, " the walk appears short and easy, when I have listened to those simple truths of the Gospel which nourish my soul." The Word of the Lord was precious in those days ! Many of the old people at Worton are still living, and may well be allowed to tell their own tale. Mar}^ Taylor, an aged woman of ninety j^ears, was asked if she remembered Mr. Wilson. " Oh, j^es ! " she replied. " I remember him well. My husband and I used to go and hear him preach. Great crowds of people came from all parts. One day, I saw the tears running down my husband's cheeks after the sermon was done. He said to me, ' What makes you look at me so ? ' I said, ' Well, John, I'm glad to see you. as you are.' We were both crying under the effects of the sermon we had heard. My husband and I both felt it in our hearts, and I bless God that I ever heard him preach." Her daughter, Ann Gibbard, was standing by, and said that she remembered one of the last sermons at Worton. He said, " Folks say the}^ don't know how to pray and to serve God. Now I give you one little word to remember : try, t-r-y, t-r-y." Another person, named Martha Gibbard, aged eighty-one,- said, " I well remember him, and used to wait upon him at the Big House. He used to come from Oxford in a post-chaise every Sunday. After morning service at Upper Worton, he drove down here. He used to bring a cold dmner with him. Sometimes I boiled him a pudding. After the afternoon service I used to make tea for him, and sent out some for the post-boy. If he found the boy had not gone to church, he would not give him any tea. Between services, large tables were placed in the outhouses for the men to eat their dinners 126 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [ohap. yii. on. Two men used to come regularly from Fenny Compton, fourteen miles off. I liave sometimes liad as many as twent}^ women sitting in my own cottage on a Sunday. The church used to be filled long before the bell rang, and then the school- room that opened into it. The people used to stand beyond the porch, half-way down the churchyard, and to crowd round the windows. He laid out the text so plain, that every one could understand it, and spoke so loud that every one could hear." An old woman named Betty Frewin, remembered the text of his second sermon, " Fear not little flock." " Attention was soon aroused," she said. " One told another, and at last they crowded from all parts. There was a great out-pouring of the Spirit. Many of the congregation were in tears. They used to come and speak to him after service, and to shake hands with him when he entered his chaise to return home. Manj' of the people used to assemble in fine weather between services, for singing and prayer. Gigs and carts were put into the court-yard at Lower Worton, and horses into the stables." The description of an old family servant was as follows : — " He was the finest preacher I ever heard ; he struck home so powerful. I never heard any one like him. ' Ilemember,' he used to sa}^, ' that Satan is standing at the church porch to take away the good seed that has been sown in jour hearts.' " Two young men of the village of Sw^erford, named Thomas Wheeler and John King, had been living in carelessness and indifiierence about religion. On one occasion they set out to enjoy the pleasures of the Sunday feast in the village of Great Tew : but in the good providence of God something induced them to turn aside and enter Worton Church. They were so powerfully affected by the sermon, that by mutual consent, they gave up all idea of the feast, and on tlieir walk home, conversing upon the things they had just heard, they went down into a stone quarry b}^ the road side, and there, kneeling down, united in what was probably their first earnest prayer to the God of salvation. Thomas Wheeler continued a consistent Christian to the end : and John King went out as 1804—1809.] OXFORD AND WOETON. 127 a missionary to New Zealand. Neither was tliis a solitary instance of the effect of Divine grace, for two other young- men, belonging to Deddington, named Matthews, who received their religious impressions at about the same time, followed John King as missionaries to New Zealand. The good work thus carrying on, was materiall}^ aided by the influence of his father-in-law, Mr. William Wilson, and the pious efforts of his daughters. They were admirable women. Tauglit of God, they laid themselves out with unbounded charity and unwearied diligence to teach others, and to render perma- nent the work of grace that was going on. They were very successful in establishing small schools in the surrounding villages, and the whole neighbourhood was by theii' means supplied with bibles and prayer-books. A poor but very respectable woman once came to them for a supply out of their stock. She had borrowed a horse and a pair of panniers, and proposed to take as many bibles and prayer-books as possible for sale amongst the friends she was about to visit. She succeeded in her application, and in due time returned with every book sold and properly accounted for. But," she said, " not one of the books reached my friends : for they were all bought by the people of the villages I passed through ; and before I got to the end of my journey, I had not one left." The country at this time was much frequented by gypsies, and Mr. William Wilson, as a county magistrate, deemed it his duty to watch them closely. One day, taking his usual ride over his estate, he came suddenly upon a group of these vagrants. Approaching unobserved, he perceived about twenty of them sitting in a circle, with their attention rivetted upon some one in the centre. It was one of his own daughters ; who with deep feeling and earnestness was reading from the New Testament ! The good father turned his horse and rode quietly home. "I left her undisturbed," he said, "in her good work; for I felt that my child was a better magistrate than I." Instances of this kind could be multiplied, but these suffice to show how the good impression made on the Sunday was continued through the week, till Worton became like a "watered 12S THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. vii. garden wliicli the Lord hath blessed." If his work had ended then, God's gracious purpose in putting him into the ministry would have been abundantly manifest. His labour had not been in vain. He had sought " for Christ's sheep that were dispersed abroad," and had done all that in him lay to bring them to " that agreement in the faith and knowledge of God, and to that ripeness and perfectness of age in Christ, that no place might be left among them for error in religion or vicious - ness in life." ' Many in that da}^ arose and called him blessed, and the good savour of his name still remains. The tidings of his death in India, produced a strong sensation in this field of his early labours. A marble tablet over the entrance of Upper Worton church, stands as a memorial that he once was curate there : and a piece of plate purchased with the small free-will offerings of the jooor, and presented to the communion table of the Lord, tells in its graven lines of a love and gratitude which fifty years could not efface. Happily his mantle fell upon others like-minded with him- self, and a succession of faithful men have gathered in the harvest of which he sowxd the seed. Worton is still a favoured spot. May she know the day of her visitation ! In the year 1809, another part of the vineyard required Daniel Wilson's ministrations. A voice from St. John's Chapel, Bedford Eow, called him, and he obeyed the call. The account of the circumstances leading to this change, is contained in a letter written from Oxford to Mr. Pearson : — ' At Christmas last, Mr. Cecil sent for me to Clifton, and urged me much to take St. John's as his curate, when my assistant at St. Edmund's Hall should be in a situation to act alone. I objected strongly on the gi'ound of St. John's not being suitable to my cast of character : but this difficulty being removed by the assurance he gave me of the universal approba- tion manifested when I have taken duty for him, I then agreed that in the course of two or three years, if God should please, I would yield to his wishes. With these impressions I left Clifton and scarcely thought further of the affair, till a letter ' Ordination Service. 1804—9.] OXFORD AND WOETON. 129 from him reached me ahout a month back to state, that his health was very rapidly declining, that things were falling to pieces at the chapel, and to urge me to take it wholly, as minister, whilst his life remained to him and the power to consign it legally. 'I was seized with the utmost consternation; and the moment the term closed, hurried to town to weigh the summons. I found Mr. Cecil too far gone to he capable of giving advice ; but his mind was fixed on me as his successor. I stated to Mr. Cardale and the principal people of the chapel, all my difficulties, arising chiefly from Mr. Hill, my proposed successor at the Hall, being yet an undergraduate, and incapable of being left. No obstacle would divert them from their entreaties : and I yielded at length, on the supposition that no impediment arose in the execution of our plan. The Principal of St. Edmund's Hall consented without a scruple to the succession of Mr. Hill, upon my p^romise of continuing to superintend till he should be settled and had become a Master of Arts. Three bishops — Oxford, Hereford, and London — loaded me with civilities and kindness ; and I left London on Saturday, virtually Minister of St. John's. My plan is to be there in the vacations, and such times during the term as I can be spared, and to manage at Oxford till Mr. Hill is ^Lister of Arts and of an age for hoh^ orders, so as to be able to officiate for me in the Hall chapel and at Worton.' This was written in [March. Somewhat later he lifts up the veil a little higher, and shows his motives : — ■ ' The employment of a tutor at Oxford has been far from being perfectly congenial to m}" mind. As to the propriety of my leaving the university, and giving myself wholly to my ministry, I cannot have a doubt. The gradual decay of vital piet}' in my own heart, is too obvious and too alarming a symptom, not to force itself upon my conscience. May God yet spare me for His honour ! ' Although there was as yet only a general understanding upon the subject, and no legal arrangement, yet when the long VOL. I. K 130 THE LIFE OF DAKIEL WILSON. [chap. VII. vacation had commenced, that is, on July 2nd, 1809 (his birth- dsij), he entered upon the public duties of St. John's Chapel. He was assisted first by the Rev. Henry Godfrey, afterwards President of Queen's College, Cambridge ; and then by the Rev. Mr. Arnott, the Rev. Mr. Bartlett, and other able and good men. The effect was instantaneous. Owing to Mr. Cecil's long continued ilhiess and retirement to Tunbridge Wells, the con- gregation had become unsettled, and the income from the chapel much reduced ; but in the month of September, Mr. Cardale, who acted as Mr. Cecil's man of business, reported the chapel filled, everybody pleased, and almost every pew let. But clouds gathered over this pleasant prospect. Mr. Cardale, in estimating the income of the chapel, had unintentionally made a serious mistake; and in attempting to rectify it, had given so much offence to Mr. Wilson, that on the matter being reported to his friends, they advised him to put an end to the negotiation. And this result would too surely have followed, had it been a common case. But it was not a common case. Mr. Cecil's feelings were warmly interested. He was most anxious to secure Mr. Wilson's services for his people's benefit. And though suffering under an attack of paralysis, which proved fatal after a few months, yet when he heard of the pro- bable rupture of the negotiations, he roused himself to write the following words, amongst the last doubtless he ever wrote : — * My heart is almost broken at the news, I beseech you not to break it quite by confirming it.' The response was immediate : — 'Nothing in the world shall be wanting on my part to remedy the evil you apprehend. There is no person in the world to whom I am so much indebted, and whom I would go such lengths to serve.' When such feelings actuated this father and son in the Gospel, all obstacles gave way. The negotiation was resumed, and the arrangement finally made. It secured two hundred 1804—9.] OXFORD AND WOETON. 131 guineas a year to Mr. Cecil and his family for the remainder of the lease of the chapel, and left about three hundred pounds a year as income to Mr. Wilson. For this he had to resign his tutorship and curac}^, which had together jdelded about 500?. per annum. So disinterested were his motives, and so sincere his desire to give himself up more entirely to the work of the ministry ! This arrangement was completed early in October, 1809. He officiated at St. John's till the eighth of that month, and then returned to Oxford to fulfil the duties still incumbent on him there. But the tie was now loosened, and though he had the prosperity of St. Edmund's Hall still at heart, and took part in all matters connected with the university, yet " no man can serve two masters." His London and his Oxford duties were incompatible ; each requiring, as they did, his whole time and thoughts. The strain upon his mind also was too great ; as may be judged by the delight with which he hailed every tem- porary respite. It is thus he writes to a friend, on one occasion when he had retired to Worton. The feeling of relief almost made him poetical ! 'WoRTON, August 25, 1812. * I was so overwhelmed in London, where the heat doubles the labour, that I most gladly fled and hid myself in this sweet rural retreat. After some months, passed either at London or Oxford, I cannot tell you how delighted I am. with the aspect of the country, with its pure air, its silence, its tranquillity, its devotion. Everything there smiles brightly, and invites sweetly to peace, reflection, and the discharge of virtuous and placid duties. I know scarcely an}^ pleasure to be preferred to that which the mind enjoys, when returning to the country after a long absence. Yes ; I could almost say that the divine love of our holy faith then shines most vividly, when hindrances being removed, cares cast away, and intel- lectual conflicts hushed, the mind is enabled to recover itself, to recal the past, to draw nigh to God in ■pvsLjev, to invite the indwelling of the Spirit, and thus to obtain refreshment and strength for the return of its accustomed duties.' K 2 132 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VII. There was great difficulty also in obtaining help during his absence for his assistant minister at St. John's, and he was indebted at various times to many friends — to Mr. Pratt, Mr. J. W. Cunningham, Mr. Robinson of Leicester, Mr. Burn of Bristol, and others. Moreover, his family were now removed to London, and they felt his frequent absences a great priva- tion. All parties, therefore, must have been glad, when, the three intervening years having rolled away, the Rev. John Hill was able to take upon himself the official duties attached to the vice-principalship of St. Edmund's Hall, and thus set Daniel Wilson entirely free. This was at the close of the year 1812. Eighteen years afterwards he cast back a glance at these times, and summed up, in a few comprehensive words, the result of his reflections upon his Oxford and Worton life : — * My time at Oxford was utterly without profit as to my soul. Pride grew more and more, and carnal appetites enchained me. On the other hand, Worton afforded me much spiritual con- solation. These nine years were passed, I trust, in the path of duty, though amidst struggles, temptations, and frequent estrangements of soul and spirit.' A sermon preached before the University in the year 1810, and subsequently published, has not yet been mentioned. But this opens the door of his study, and introduces the chapter of his Literary Life. CHAPTER YIII. LITERARY LIFE. 1810—1831. Habits and tastes — Library — Prize Essay — Sermon on Obedience — Funeral sermon for Mr. Cecil — Style — Conversation with Bellingham — On Confirmation and Lord's Supper— Funeral sermons for Mr. Cardale, Mrs. Cardale, and Rev. W. Goode — Pamphlet on Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge — Controversies on the subject — Sermon on Regeneration — Views on Regeneration — Offence to the Uni- versity— Political views — Sermons to children — Anniversary sermon for Church Missionary Society — Pamphlet in defence of Church Missionary Society — Volume of Sermons — Doctrinal views — Anecdote — Prayer-book and Homily Society — Funeral sermons for the Rev. Thomas Scott — Preface to Adam's "Private Thoughts," Butler's "Analogy," Wilberforce's "Practical Christianity," Baxter's "Reformed Pastor," Quesnel on "the Gospels" — Dr. Chalmers — "Letters from an absent brother" — Evidences of Christianity — Hannah More — Roman Catholic Emancipation — Sir R. Peel — Lettei'S to " Christian Observer" — Sir J. Mackintosh — Dr. Chalmers — Mr. Simeon — Sermons on Lord's Day — Funeral sermons for Mi*. Charles Grant, Rev. S. Crouch, Rev. B. Woodd — Conti-oversy with Dr. Burton. Daniel Wilson was always a student. In cliildliood he read for amusement, in manhood for information, in old age for relaxation. He read everything which had any bearing, direct or indirect, upon the great object of his life — the Ministry which he had " received of the Lord Jesus." Works of imagina- tion, falling without those limits, had little interest for him, and no power over him. He felt not the attraction which others feel, nor needed the self-restraint which they need. The imagi- native faculty cannot be regarded as predominating in his mind. Though living at the very time when the tales and novels of Walter Scott were exerting all their witchery, it is doubtful whether he ever read one of them ; and if not these, certainly none others. He was familiar with the poems of Cowper, Thomson, Goldsmith, Gray, and others, and when a leisure morning, and a country scene invited, would expatiate in them with real pleasure. But the opportunity and the indulgence, were alike rare. The hymn was perhaps a greater favourite 134 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VIII. than the poem> Many of the best hymns were firmly fixed in his memory, and he loved to repeat them and to have them sung. His voice would join in the praise, but it is impossible to say that it added to the harmony. He had no ear for music, and this defect, as is usual, extended to the pronunciation of languages ; for those which he knew perfectly, and had read extensivel}', he yet could not pronounce correctly. The ear was faulty, not the intellect. His library was very large, and choice. The accumulation in his later days exceeded ten thousand volumes. Many of course were books of reference. Whilst he had any work in preparation for the press, every- thing having any bearing on the subject, was purchased without stint, and then retained. He was careful of his books ; said that he looked upon them as his children ; and could not bear to see them ill-used. No turning down of the leaves was tolerated, and even a " mark " was deemed un- manly : — " If you cannot tell where you leave off, you are not worthy to read a book," he would say. He needed quiet for study, but not soHtude : — " Go or stay as you please ; but if you stay be quiet ; " and then he would turn, and in a moment enter the world of books. He kept no late hours ; his last reading (as his first) was always devotional and scriptural ; and he generally retired about eleven o'clock. In working hours all his reading had reference to the sermon, or the controversy, or the publication, which might be in hand. But in the hour of repose after dinner, or in the country, the current literature of the day had its turn, and one member of the family generally read aloud to all the rest. Thus his mind got full,j and the full mind will overflow, and give forth fertilising and refreshing streams. These we have now to trace. The Prize Essay at Oxford has been already alluded to. This was his first public appearance ; but it had been preceded by two or three papers sent privately to the Christian Observer " under the signature of Clericus Sm-riensis." He continued at intervals, in after life, to send papers to the same valuable periodical, in which he always felt the greatest interest. In 1805, he sent an article on " The unspeakable gift of God." 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 135 In the volume for 1814, there is an adnnrable article on "Crude Theology;" which was continued in the following year. An excellent paper appeared also in Februar}^ 1815, on " Our spiritual contest with the world." This has been recently reprinted, with the writer's permission, at the request of some clergymen in Yorkshire. Other papers no doubt might be traced, though he left no list. The signature generally was D. W.^ On the 28th January, 1810, he preached before the Univer- sity of Oxford, the sermon to which allusion was made in the last chapter, entitled Obedience the path to religious know- ledge." It was sent to the press almost immediately, and has since passed through several editions. In order to appreciate it rightly, the standard in the Univer- sity pulpit at that time should be considered. Doubtless, many eminent preachers were then living, and many able sermons were delivered; but thes^ were exceptions to a very general rule. The country clergy, summoned in their turn from their respective parishes, and warmed by some local quarrel with the squire or churchwarden, were wont to pour out their gTiefs into the faithful bosom of Alma Mater, or indulge in doleful prophecies concerning the doom of a Church in which such things were tolerated. In default of the country clergyman appearing in his turn, his place in tlie pulpit was supplied by some resident official ; and now the sermon was generally one which had seen hard service in days past, and was destined to see much more in days to come. " Put them in fear, 0 God, that the nations may know them- selves to be but men." Ps. ix. 20. " And what, my brethren, did the nations suppose themselves to be ? Gods, to be sure." Tradition thus records one text and introductory sentence ; ^ Later in life several elaborate reviews were written by him. In 1821, he reviewed Sermons by the Rev. Isaac Milner, Dean of Carlisle ; and also the Rev. Charles Simeon's Horse Homileticse. In December, 1822, an American publication was examined, entitled, "The Conversation of Our Saviour with Nicodemus," by 136 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VIII. but charitably forgets the remainder of what used to form the joke of colleges and common rooms sixty years ago. Contrast with such preaching the sermon under review. Imagine the distinguished audience, the earnest preacher, the sound doctrine, the clear reasoning, the almost unequalled voice, the impassioned appeals, the response of conscience ; and then the effect described by an undergraduate of that day will be better appreciated : — " I can never forget," he says, " his bold and animated sermon before the University on that text from John vii. 17, ' If any man will do his will he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God,' and I shall never lose the impression of the breathless silence with which its stirring appeals to the conscience were heard by the crowded congregation at St. Mary's." Opinions were, of course, divided at the time. Some called the sermon Calvinistic, and some anti-Calvinistic — for Calvinism was then the battle-ground of the Church. But in truth it was scriptural. The text leavened the discourse, as it ought to do, and the preacher in delivering it was evidently uncon- cerned as to what system it supported or opposed. His object was to invite his hearers from the "tumults of debate to the tranquillity of obedience, from theory to practice, from pride, the parent of error, to a submission of heart to God," and his aim was to enforce what the Saviour taught, viz. " that a right dis]3osition of heart was essential to the attainment of every just sentiment in religion, that obedience was the path to knowledge, that a correct judgment must flow from the fear and reverence of God, and that if any one would enter upon a successful enquiry into the doctrines of Chris- tianity, he must be prepared for such an enquiry by a spirit of humble piety." It was not a sermon to be forgotten, and has not been forgotten. It has edified many, and by God's blessing may Dr. Jai-vis, of Boston. In November, 1831, will be found a review of "Biblical Notes and Dissertations," by Joseijh John Gurnoy ; and in December of the same year, a review of Scott's *' Continuation of Milner's Church History," concluded in the Appendix. 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 137 edify manj^ more. Though no truth of God is displaced, it is yet thoroughly practical, and makes experience subservient to the reception of the truth. It will be valued by all who believe that John vii. 17, is as true as Heb. xi. G. The author's own account of the publication is given in a letter to a friend : — ' Oxford, Feh. 16, 1810. 'The return of Mr. Crouch to Oxford was exceedingly fortunate. I have submitted my sermon to his review^ and have been so much pressed to publish it, that I have ventured on that bold step. It will be published on Tuesday or Wednesday. And now let me entreat you to send your full and most free opinion. I have been so incessantly engaged with the subject for nearly three months, that my mind is perfectly jaded. I have contemplated it, as it were, till I have no distinct views at all, and I fear much that some gap in the argument will be discovered. You will come to it fresh. Send me, then, your real sentiments in every poirft of view.' Two funeral sermons for the Rev. Eicliard Cecil were next published. They were preached in St. John's Chapel, on Aug. 2G, and Sept. 2, 1810, and serve as a kind of model upon which all his funeral sermons were subsequently framed. His plan was first to elucidate the text, then to delineate the character, and then to draw a series of practical inferences. It is not easy to imagine a better i)lan ; but perhaps by the adaptation of it to every case, a sense of sameness or weariness may be produced. In the present case the sympathies of all parties were thoroughly aroused. The congregation of St. John's had been built up " by Mr. Cecil, and the preacher was his own son in the faith. The occasion Avas a great one, and he rose to it. All his tenderest feelings were excited, and all his powers called forth ; and nothing can surpass the vigour of his style or the graphic touches with which he portrays Mr. Cecil's character as a man and a minister. Quotations might be multiplied in proof of this, but it must suffice to say that the sermons them- selves will well repay an attentive perusal. His style was now beginning to be formed, and it proved at 138 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [cuap. viii. first better adapted to tlie pulpit than the press. It wanted simi)licit3^ and was on the whole perhaps too rhetorical. It abounded with sounding epithets. However effective this may be in a public address, it is less calculated to bear the calm investigation of the closet ; and the hearer might admire, what the reader would be disposed to criticise and condemn. The following short passage in these sermons will serve as an illustration, and show how a redundancy of words adds no real force to ideas. The preacher is enlarging on the Gospel, and he speaks of " the magnitude of the objects which the Bible proposes to man, the sublimity of eternal pursuits, and the scheme of redemption by an incarnate Mediator," but not content with leaving the ideas thus expressed to produce their own effect, which surely might have sufficed, he overloads them with epithets, and speaks of " the stnx>endous magnitude of the objects which the Bible proposes, the incomparable sublimity of eternal pursuits, and the astonishing scheme of redemption." Some may admire this florid style, but it cannot be recom- mended for imitation. His next publication was entitled *' Conversation with Bellingham, the assassin of the Et. Hon. Spencer Perceval." The interview was brought about by a distinguished member of Parliament on the Sunday evening previous to the criminal's execution, but was attended with no good results. The account of what i)assed in conversation at that interview was published immediately after, and attracted much attention. But the narrative wants both simplicity and individuality, and can scarcely be considered a happy means of conveying to the public, important scriptural truth. In the year 1814 he preached a sermon at St. Bride's, before the members of the Church Missionary Society, on occasion of the departure of several missionaries and others to the western coast of Africa. This was followed in 1815 by the publication of two addresses to the young — one on Confirmation, and the other on the Lord's Supper. As tracts they have passed through more than twenty editions ; and though multitudes of similar publications 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 139 have appeared, they are not likely to lose their popularity. They go near to exhaust the subjects on which they treat ; and exhibit that moderation, gravity, earnestness, and faithfulness, which characterise all the author's theological -^Titings. Several publications appeared in the year 1816, and amongst them two funeral sermons for Mr. and Mrs. Cardale. These were two of the eminent Christian characters for vvhich St. John's Chapel was distinguished. Of Mrs. Cardale, Mr. Cecil used to say, "I cannot tell who of my congTegation is Hope and Faith, but certainly Mrs. Cardale is Charity." Her end was peace ; and the preacher describes very touchingiy the closing scene of her life : — ' She was not afraid of death, but she feared its circum- stances, lest her patience should fail, and she should dishonour her Lord and Saviour. It pleased God however so to dis- appoint these fears, thalf she may really be said not to have known what death was. Her departure was so tranquil that the exact moment of transition could not be ascertained. Lying unmoved in her bed, on which she had just been placed on account of her great weakness, she meeldy breathed out her spirit without a sigh or groan. As the infant falls asleep in the arms of the affectionate parent, so did this exemplary woman fall asleep in the arms of Jesus her Saviour, on Thurs- day, Feb. 8, 1816, in the seventy-seventh year of her age.' Mr. Cardale, her husband, has been already mentioned as the friend and chief adviser of Mr. Cecil. He had managed the pecuniary concerns of liis chapel, and was instrumental in raising the sum of 3000?. towards the support of his declining years, when compelled to retire from it. He afterwards attached himself affectionately to Daniel Wilson's ministry. In his seventieth year, feeling that the end of all things was at hand, Mr. Cardale sent to him, and expressing an anxious wish to examine the foundations of his hope towards God, he begged for help in the inquiry. Beginning thus humbly the work of self-examination, he soon experienced that j)eace of God which passeth all under- 140 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. viii. standing : and this, with variations, continued to the end. He died in the Lord ; and the preacher, in the summary of his character, enumerates integrit}^ liberalit}^ the union of opposing excellencies, strong and enlightened attachment to the Church, distinguished loyalty, and fervent piety. He was next called to give utterance to his feelings over the grave of the Eev. William Goode, who had been curate to the Eev. W. Romaine for ten years, and succeeded him as rector of Blackfriars, London. The funeral sermon was preached in that church in April, 1816. Mr. Goode had been amongst the original founders of the Church Missionary Society, and from his pulpit sixteen of its anniversary sermons were delivered. The testimony borne to the character of this eminently good man in the funeral sermon, is affectionate and discriminating, and extracts from his letters at different periods of life are introduced, as illustrative of his piety, humility, and holiness. Passing by several single sermons and addresses, a pamphlet next claims consideration, which was published this year in reference to the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge. It was entitled, "A respectful address on certain inconsistencies and contradictions which have latety appeared in some of their books and tracts : " and it was published originally without the name of the author. The facts connected with it are as follows : — Dr. Mant had published a tract on the Baptismal question. It advocated extreme views ; insisting on the invariable con- nection between baptism and regeneration, asserting that none could possibly be unregenerate who had rightly been baptised, ascribing a difference of operation to the two sacraments, in that the efficacy of the one was uniform, and of the other contingent, and denouncing all contrary opinions as enthusi- astic, dangerous, and heretical. This pamphlet excited much controversy, and was ably replied to by the Eev. John Scott of Hull, and the Eev. T. J. Biddulph of Bristol. But the matter assumed a graver aspect when the tract was adopted and put upon the list of the 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 141 Christian Knowledge Society. This was considered a breach of the moderation befitting a Society which professed to repre- sent the Church of England. It called forth earnest remon- strances from manj^ attached friends, and led to the publication of Daniel Wilson's pamphlet. He did not profess to discuss the general subject. He wished only to prove, and he did prove, that there was a manifest inconsistency in the adoption of Dr. Mant's tract ; since it directly contradicted the state- ments of at least fifty other tracts standing on the Society's list. Immediate action followed ; both sides rallied their forces, and various letters to the Society appeared in rapid succession. Amongst these letters was one written by Dr. Wordsworth ; and over it the struggle began, to which none but Daniel Wilson's own words can do justice. He writes Feb. 10, 1816, and says : — * The meeting of the S. P. C. K. took place last Tuesday. All the world was there. ^I took part in it. We gained one of our points, as to the reading of Dr. Wordsworth's letter, of which I told you. Dr. Pott and the Dean of Chester wished to go to the ballot at once. But Messrs. Dealtry, Babington, Macaula}", White, and myself, strongly insisted on the reading of the letter. The old doctors were astounded. The dean said that for fifty years he had never heard of such a thing. Some one, I know not who, called out loudly that no end of harm would follow. Two hours passed before they would consent to put the question to the vote. At last Mr. Shepherd of University College, Oxford, advised them to consent. He supported Mr. White's motion for the reading. Hands were held up. The chairman (Archdeacon Cambridge) declared that he could not decide which party had the majority. Again the motion was put, and then he decided that it was gained. All then listened to the letter. It was a clever and luminous exposition in which the writer altogether objected to Dr. Mant's tract. This was wliy they wished to conceal it from us. But all was now unveiled. Our o]3ponents had used two arguments against the reading of the letter — one, that it only referred to the style of the tract, and did not enter into the subject-matter — the other, that Dr. Mant had assented 142 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON, [chap, VIII. to the suggestions of tlie letter, and made the necessary alterations. ' You mark, my friend, the piquancy of the first reason, and the honesty of the second ! The real fact was, that the letter Avas very important, that it touched upon the doctrine itself, and absolutely disapproved the tract. * The letter finished, we passed after two hours' contention to the ballot. Here w^e lost our point. Thirty-seven stood out for the tract, and thirty against it. Four would not vote. So large a minority gave us confidence ; we resolved instantly to propose another motion which should open the way to a dis- cussion on Baptism. I was preparing to do it, when all at once, Mr. White, who was not aware that I was the author of the " Address," proposed a resolution on it. ' A storm instantly arose. The old doctors wished to know the author. Mr. White knew^ nothing about it. Everybody fired up. There was no more consideration, no more order. All was confusion, and a frightful noise deafened us. At length. Lord Kenyon proposed that Mr. Wliite should only give notice of a motion, and not make it. We were all willing. But how word it ? 'During the tumult I had withdrawn a little back, in consideration of the circumstances connecting me with the "Address." At length, after two hours more, the Society agreed that a notice of motion to be given by Mr. Dealtry at the meeting on March 5th, should be in these terms : " that the Society would take into consideration such contradictions as might appear in their tracts." Mr. Dealtry was to make this motion in case Mr. White could not be present. * We separated, half dead with heat and fatigue, but cheered by a success greater than w^e had dared to expect. The con- sternation of the members was laughable. Dr. Mant ballotted on his own tract. The next meeting will be crowded. Every body is speaking of it. May God's spirit guide and direct us. I cannot describe to you the exact state of things. They began by attempting to trample us under their feet. They were driven off. We gained the reading of the letter. The ballot itself showed our power. The appearance of the meeting was very odd. I never saw anything like it. We hoped 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 143 everything, and the truth sustained us. All oui' friends must be in town on the 5th March.' The vividness of this description excites the desire to know the end : and happily the desire may be gratified, for another letter has been preserved. It was written, Feb. 27th, to the same friend. ' No doubt you are anxious to know what has happened in the Society since my last letter. jMr. Dealtry wrote to me on Feb. 18th to say that Archdeacon Wollaston was very uneasy at the differences rising up amongst the members of the Society, and he was sure that Dr. Mant would be very willing to make the required alterations in his tract. Mr. Dealtry replied that he would do anything to promote peace. We tlierefore all met together — Dealtr}-, John William Cunningham, Basil Woodd, Pratt, Stewart, Pritchett,>and I, on Wednesday morning, Feb. 20th. INIr. Dealtry repeated what he had written. We dis- cussed matters for three hours. I was not myself willing to jdeld without reserve to the courteous words of the archdeacon. But it was agreed that Mr. Dealtr}' should for the present withdraw his notice of motion by a letter, wliicli should explain our motives. ' At 12 o'clock we went to the meeting of the Society. We expected nothing — but what do you think ? There was the Ai'chbishop of Canterbury (Dr. Sutton) in the chair, and by him the Bishop of London (Dr. Howley). 'We seated ourselves, and the ordinary business went on. At length Mr. Dealtry rose and presented his letter. It was read twice. The archbishop followed, and condemned it strongly, as self-willed. He could not consent that matters should remain as that letter left them. He himself j^roposed a committee to examine the matter to the bottom, and to report upon the Society's works. Thus the archbishop's censure falls dead. He begins by blaming the letter, and ends by adopting its suggestions ! The fire blazed up, as it always does when truth is on one side and numbers on the other. For three hom's there was a wami dispute as to whether ]Mr. Dealtry should be on the committee. We could not speak freely, for 144 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VIII. the presence of the archbishop constrained us much. He would not let us discuss the doctrine itself, but only the question of the contradictions amongst the tracts. But, in spite of all, many things were said touching the root of the matter. As for the Bishop of London, he made a long address, in which he admitted pretty nearly all we wished. Neverthe- less, Mr. Dealtry was rejected, and the committee named. ' After the meeting there was a good deal of conversation between Mr. Dealtry, Cunningham, and myself, and Drs. Mant and Pott. But we could agree on nothing. Conciliatory sug- gestions did no good. No one approved them. Nothing will be done on the 5th March. It will be necessary now to remain quiet till the report of the committee is presented. Adieu.' Many will feel interested at this glimpse into the interior of things in the year 1816. At that time there were venerable men who fervently prayed, " Give peace in our time, O Lord : " and who would have been ready to meet Daniel Wilson with the remonstrance, " Art thou not he who troubleth Israel ? " To this, his earnest and anxious reply is ready : — " All the religion of Jesus Christ fades away before the dogma of Dr. ]\Iant. Eegeneration is reduced to baptism — then explained away — then lost sight of. ' Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words in this evil generation, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed when He cometh in the glory of His Father and the holy angels.' " The report of the committee was, on the whole, deemed satisfactory; and what the " Eespectful Address" had con- tended for, was admitted to a certain extent. A new edition of Dr. Mant's tract was also published, in which the most objec- tionable expressions — all those indeed on which the controversy turned — were expunged or modified. So that the ventilation of the question did good. Had the venerable Society been guided at the time, with that dignity, prudence, and moderation, which so happily characterise it now, the discussion would never have been raised. Eoused by it, Daniel Wilson determined to preach upon the 1810-31.] LITEEARY LIFE. 145 subject of Regeneration, when again called to address the University in the year 1817. His reasons are assigned in the following letter, dated Jan. 13th. * As to my subject — I know not what to say. I think much of your arguments. I love peace with all my heart. I know well the responsibility which attaches to me, and particularly m the University. But — but — but — there are an infinity of reasons on the other side : ' 1. The doctrine of Regeneration is of primary importance. All turns upon it. ' 2. It is a doctrine on which the attention of ever}^ one is now anxiously fixed. That is a great point. ' 3. It is a doctrine opf)osed by the World and the Devil, in a way which absolutely commands the Church of Jesus Christ to speak out plainly. ' 4. It is a doctrine which I am more bound to maintain, because of the part I have taken in London, both in the " Address " I have printed, and the opinions I have expressed at the Christian Knowledge Societ}-. '5. Moreover, a discourse from me upon this subject will arrest attention. ' G. And if I pass it by, it will be like a shrinking from what I consider the truth of Christ. ' These are my reasons. As for the method of treating a subject so serious, I find myself in a difficulty. I wish to speak as the Oracles of God. I desire to discuss the question with a gravity and force which may touch the heart. But how to accomplish this ! How difficult to mingle in controversy without losing Charity and Humility ! But I must make the attempt. ' I have no idea of treating the matter polemicall}-. I wish rather to show the state of man, the nature of grace, the divine character of the New Birth, and its necessity for the attainment of the knowledge of God, for our salvation, for the performance of our duty, for grafting in our hearts the love of the truth and hatred of sin, for uniting us to God and bringing about a divine intercourse with Him through the Spirit. *What grandeur attaches to that idea of Union with Gcd ! VOL. r. L 146 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOX. [chap. VIII. What elevation and dignity ! But ■v\'ho can conceive that our English Protestant Church would confine it only to the sacrament of Baptism ? Those who understand not its grandeur may well lower it, till nothing remains save what Baptism confers ; but the true Christian ought, above all things, to rise to the height of the doctrine, and not lower it to his own standard.' The sermon was accordingly preached on the 24th Feb., from the words, " That which is born of the flesh, is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit, is Spirit," (John iii. 6.) It is not necessary to enter into the discussion, further than to explain the preacher's views. He dreaded the intermingling of the Church and the World, and tlie mistaking of the form for the power of Godliness. He held that the great spiritual and moral change, called the New Birth, was an essential and distinguishing feature of the Gospel. He believed it to be always necessary in itself, but not alwaj^s and necessarily wrought in Baptism. He called it Begexeratiox. Others contend for the thing — he contended for the word also. He was T\iUing to use other Scriptural expressions, such as "Conversion," " Eenovation," " Eenewal," as expressing the change from "darkness unto light, and from the power of Satan unto God ;" but he would insist upon the liberty to use the word " Regeneration " also. Baptismal regeneration was not necessarily, in his view, real regeneration. The liturgical sense of the word was one thing, the saving sense another. They might be identical, but proof was wanting: — ' If the infant, as the faculties of reason and understanding are unfolded, gradually displays a spiritual frame or temper of mind according to the holy image of God, the case is decided ; he needs not the blessing which we no longer merely hope that he has received, but which we rejoice to discern in its obvious effects. But if, as he advances in age, he appears to be utterly void of spiritual knowledge and spiritual obedience, he evi- dently still needs, as in the instance of the adult void of true piety, this inward renewal in aU his powers in order to love and serve God. 1810—31,] LITERARY LIFE. 147 * The greatest divines of our Church, including the Eeformers themselves, frequently speak of Eegeneration, and the New Birth, simpl}'^ and by itself, as well as in connection with the sacrament of Baptism. With them, so far as I understand their language. Conversion, Kenovation, Eegeneration, New Birth, a New Creature, Transformation, are terms employed, as applicable in common to the general doctrine of the incipient recovery of man to the image and love of God, not indeed in opposition to what may perhaps be called, the ecclesiastical completion of it in Baptism, or to its occurrence by means of that sacrament, but still not as invariably connected with it. ' When we consider the magnitude of that change in all the faculties of the soul which we have before described, in connection with the actual character in every period of life of the vast majority of those who have been baptised, must not this one consideration forbid us to suppose that Eegeneration is invariably connected with Baptism ? For myself, at least, I must distinctly avow that this one consideration, independently of other numerous and in my mind conclusive arguments on the subject, is abundantly sufficient to prevent my entertaining for a moment such a supposition. And on this ground, not only the propriety but the necessity of the use of the term which I am now maintaining, seems to me at once and undeniably to follow.' * Such were the views propounded in this sermon, and such the opinions held with little modification, by the preacher to the end of life. The unbiassed exhibition of them, in this place, would in every case have been a duty, but it is especially so, now that the question has been so strongly revived. Eecent authoritative decisions, though they have not ended controversy, have brought about this one positive result, that a certain latitude of opinion is admissible in the Church upon the subject of Baptism. Though opinions therefore may differ from those expressed in this sermon, and some may approve and some disapprove, yet none may condemn. The delivery of it gave great offence to the authorities at Oxford, and permission to print it at the university press was ^ Sermon on Regeneration. L 2 148 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOIT. [chap. VIII. refused by the then Yice-Cliancellor. "It savours of St. Edmund's Hall," was his reply, " the press is engaged." It was printed, however, and went through five editions. This year (1817) was a troubled one. The transition from a state of war to peace was attended with much national and individual suffering. The harvest was bad, commerce depressed, disaffection widely prevalent. Daniel Wilson was alive to the emergency, and printed an excellent sermon on " Contentment," applicable not only to the times then present, but to all times of national trouble. With it may be classed other single sermons, one preached at St. Mary's, Oxford, before the judges, and another at Islington on the death of the Duke of York. He was not a politician properly so called, but he took a warm interest in all matters connected with the good of the Church and the welfare of the State. The newspaper was a necessity to him. The chief Reviews Avere always looked for with interest, and some anxiety. He w^as a lo3^al, but not a party man. There was perhaps a growing liberality as he advanced in life, but for the most part he formed an inde- pendent judgment on each matter as it arose. Thus when all the nation was convulsed by the trial of Queen Caroline, his mind retained its balance : — 'My simple common sense opinion,' he says, (and it is almost the only allusion to politics in the whole of his corres- pondence) ' has long been that the name of the Queen never ought to have been omitted in the State prayers, till guilt was legally established, and that it ought to have been restored, and the usual external honours of her rank conceded, the moment the Bill failed. Then she would have been taken out of the hands of an angry Opposition, and consigned to the sure fate of profligate and abandoned females. Still — still — still — I know not what to say. All hearts are agitated — the minds of our common people are poisoned — the balance of our Consti- tution is weakened — the Ministry is feeble and indecisive — and the meeting of Parliament is looked forward to with real consternation. The gentry and clergy are sound, but the people are demoralised. The sooner a man arises to whom 1810—31.] LITEEARY LIFE. 149 the full confidence of the country may gradually attach, and whose hands may grasp firmly the reins of the State — a minister like Pitt — the better.' This year he also i^rinted the first of a series of sermons to very young children. The second was preached in 1820, the third in 1822, the fourth in 1823. They are admirably adapted to their purpose, and ought to be preached when Dr. Watts' " divine songs " are sung. In the month of May he preached the anniversary sermon of the Church Missionary Society, at St. Bride's Church. The cause of missions was always near his heart, though he could have had no presentiment that he should one day enter into that field of duty. His public appeal on this occasion was full of force and earnestness, and the result corresponded. The sum of 893Z. lis. lid. w^as collected; being the largest amount raised for the Society dtfring the first twenty-seven anniver- saries. Next year he was called to a still more decided effort on behalf of the same Society. On the 1st December, 1818, a public meeting had been summoned by advertisement to form a Church Missionary Association at Bath. The then Bishop of Gloucester (Dr. Ryder) who was also Dean of Wells and aYice- Patron of the Societ}^ presided. At this meeting the Yen. J. Thomas, Archdeacon of Bath, appeared in his ofiicial character, and delivered an Address, which he afterwards printed, as a protest against the introduction of the society into his arch- deaconry. He denounced the attempt as a violation of ecclesiastical order, charged the presiding bishop with invading the province of his episcopal brother, declared that the society had assumed a title to which it had no claim, expressed his conviction that the Association would prove a hotbed of heresy, and finally as archdeacon, recorded his protest against its formation. Looking back forty years it is hard to realise all this. In these days few indeed would be found to countenance it, but the archdeacon claimed to speak in behalf of nineteen - twentieths of the clergy then within his jurisdiction. 150 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VIII. It was imperatively necessary that the Protest should he noticed, and the accusations hrought against the society repelled, and Daniel "Wilson was requested to undertake the duty. His rej)ly is a model of clear argument, grave rebuke, and good temper. By one and the same process it acquits the society and condemns the archdeacon. Even after the lapse of so many years it may be read with interest and profit. Apart fi'om the direct issue, it upholds the whole principle of missions, and the whole machinery of the Church Missionary Society. From the attack made upon it, that Society rose triumphant, and has ever since waxed stronger and stronger. The obhgation then conferred has been gratefully acknowledged in the following terms. Referring to this controversy, the Committee say : — " Pamphlets on both sides, to the number of eight or ten, were published : but that which was written by Mr. Wilson vindicated the constitution of the Society with much Christian temper and spirit, passed through fourteen editions within two months, and rendered such aid to the cause that the hostile attack was turned into an important benefit." His own notice of the pamphlet is as follows : — ^January, 22, 1818. *I am writing after a strangely long silence. You must forgive me, my friend. Business has absorbed me so that I have not had a moment, I will not say of leisure, but of peace and quietness. Noise, confusion, hurry, quarrels, sorrows, afflictions, even despaii", have encompassed and nearly over- whelmed me. Now I begin to breathe again. My pamphlet is revised. The answer of the archdeacon has not yet appeared. I am able to resume my ordinary duties after a month of uneasiness. ' You know, I believe, that various friends have been of the greatest use to me in compiling my pamphlet. I read it twice to Mr. Wilberforce, and some touches of his marvellous eloquence will appear in the new edition. The two Grants have helped me, particularly Mr. Ptobert Grant, to whom I am indebted for the argument on Authority, and on the 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 151 contributions of the poor. I do not mention Mr. Pratt and Mr. Bickersteth, because you know as well as I, the interest they take in our Society. I am anxious about the archdeacon's reply, knowing well my own shortcomings, and the mahcious- ness of the enemies of religion. But my trust is in God. His arm, His providence, His spirit, these are my weapons.' The pamphlet eventually passed through seventeen editions. Many publications professing to reply to it appeared, but none were considered worthy of notice. There was no response from the archdeacon, and the fire died out from want of fuel. But from the ashes sprang up a warmer zeal and a greater liberality on behalf of missions, and it was all overruled of God, that so His way might be known upon earth and His saving health among all nations." " The success of the pamphlet " says a contemporary, "was perfect, and the excellent ^Society derived essential benefit from the investigation of its principles and labours." Whilst this controversy was going on, Daniel Wilson's fii'st printed volume of sermons appeared. They had been preached at St. John's, and were pubHshed, as the dedication states, to supply in some degree the deficiency of personal intercourse. The book seems to have met with a rude reception in some quarters at first, for writing on the 28th January to a friend, the author says : — *As to my poor volume, you know how it has been condemned. Do write without delay, and give me your candid opinion. The last page had scarcely left the press, when the archdeacon's affair came on, and disturbed all my accustomed train of thought.' Whatever check the volume may have received on its fii'st appearance, it was but momentary. All opposition was instantly overborne. The first edition of eight hundred copies was sold in a fortnight, and another called for, and many followed in rapid succession. It proved handsomely remune- rative. The author used to speak of having realised 600Z. or 800Z. by the publication. This would be thought little of, 152 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VIII. perhaps, in the case of some popular work or important history, but a vohime of sermons is a very different thing, and remune- ration is rarely thought of b}^ the author. The discourses in this volume may be taken, no doubt, as fair specimens of his preaching at St. John's at that period; and they lose nothing by comparison with the productions of the pulpit in the present day. They are really sermons. In arrangement, they come between the innumerable divisions of earlier writers which overload the memory, and the modern essay, which makes no impression on it. Errors of style are to be found; but they are well nigh forgotten in the clear exposition of Scriptural truth, the discrimination of character, the appeals to conscience, the interesting narrative, imj)ressive exhortation, and tender pathos which everywhere abound ; and which want only the living voice, the appropriate delivery, and the promised grace, to accomplish all the great ends of l^reaching. Imagine the capacious building, the crowded audience, the rapt attention : every eye fixed upon the preacher, and every ear listening to the following words, taken from a sermon on the " Passion of our Lord," and the effect may easily be realised : — ' In speechless agony he hangs upon the cross. Even his heavenly Father withdraws from him. The darkness which surrounds the cross, was but an emblem of the sufferer's soul. ' Who can speak the mysteries of the scene ? All the other sorrows of his passion are not to be compared with the dereliction he now endured. How bitter the pang of separation from God is, can be best told by those who most ardently love him. His i^esence is life. It has made Apostles sing praises in prison, and martyrs triumph at the stake. What then must the Son of God have now felt, whose love to his Father was perfect, and whose union with him was inexpressibly intimate. Of no other part of his passion did the Saviour utter a complaint — not of his sufferings in the garden, or at the bar of Pilate, or when nailed to the cross— not under the insults of the Jews — not of the thorns, the nails, the vinegar, the gall — not of the flight of his disciples. But 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 153 when his heaveiily Father withdrew the communications of his presence, he exclaimed in the depth of his anguish, Eloi, Eloi, lama sahachtliani ! My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ! Then was the travail of his soul. Then did he endure the wrath of God, the curse of the law, the temptations of the powers of darkness ; all the woe arising from a full view of the evil of sin, and of the accumulated guilt for which he was about to atone. ' Well may the Greek Chm'ch have adopted the remarkable language which occurs in her Litany — By thine uxknowx AGONIES ! Yes, what we know of these agonies is little indeed, is but a faint image of the incomprehensible and unutterable reality of the sufferings which he endured. We are able only to say that he sustained all the pain of which his perfect human nature was capable ; and all the anguish inflicted by the anger of God, the penalty of sin, the terrors of judgment, the assaults of the devil. ^ And if in this world a single drop of divine wrath, falling into the conscience of a sinner, has at times quenched every hope and involved liim in inconceivable misery, darkness, horror, and despair ; who shall measure the depth of that agony when all the vials of eternal wrath were poured out even to the dregs, on the head of the Eedeemer ! ' We may learn from this volume, his ^dews on the main doctrines of the Gospel. Do we desire to know how he speaks of Conviction of sin ? ' Men must be convinced of their sms, or perish. And whether this conviction resemble the sudden alarm of the Philippian jailor, or the gradual illumination of Cornelius, Lydia, the Ethiopian eunuch, and the Bereans, the results are the same. The careless and wicked are effectually brought to see their sin and danger, and to enquire after the way to salvation. They are pricked in their hearts with remorse and confusion ; their vain excuses are silenced, they feel their lost condition, they humble themselves in contrition of soul before God ; and admit without reserve the charge of guilt and condemnation which his holy law prefers against them.' (Serm. iii. p. 58.) 154 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. viii. Do we desii'e to know how he defines Faith? ' Faith is an implicit credit given to the Divine testimony in the Holy Scriptures. Faith receives with simplicity the witness of God, that cannot lie. The penitent reads under its influence, exeiy part of the volume of inspiration, and credits all he reads, however new, mysterious, or humiliating. Since however, man is a fallen and ruined creature, and the leading truth of the Bible is the record concerning Christ, Faith, when genuine, fixes most intensely on this doctrine. It consequently l)roduces in the first place an humble supplication for mercy, and a simple trust and reliance on the Saviour's merits ; and then forms us to a union with him, and a hope in the future blessings he has promised. It thus becomes the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen. Espe- cially, it worketh by love, purifieth the heart, and overcometh the w^orld ; and the fruits of holiness, thus produced, distinguish it as a living and divine principle, from a natural, a speculative, and unproductive assent of the understanding.' (Serm. v. p. 108.) Do we wish to know how he treats of Good Works ? ' Repentance towards God, and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ, are the beginning of all religion. This wiU lay the axe to the root of the tree. By repentance the sinner breaks off from transgression. By faith he receives the gift of righteous- ness, and obtains the benefit of remission. The merits of Jesus Christ being imputed to his account, he is accepted as righteous before God. He, who thus receives forgiveness from the hands of his compassionate Saviour, will assuredly begin to love his neighbour as himself. Thus holiness and pardon will be inseparable. The regenerating grace of the Holy Spirit which he has already received in its incipient operation, will make him more and more a new creature. He will put off the old man with his deeds, he will put on the new man, and be gradually adorned ^vith all the softer virtues of compassion, meekness, and forgiveness, towards those around him. This is Christianity. This is the principle and practice of religion.' (Serm. x., p. 238.) 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 155 There is an admirable sermon in this volume on the " Ten Talents;" a consolatory one on "Religious Dejection;" and an encouraging one on Decision in Religion," from the character of Ruth. Two important discourses also will be found on " The Force of Habit." The}^ have evidently been prepared with more than common care, but cannot claim the merit of entire originality. The basis of the argument on which they rest, will be found in Bishop Butler's fifth chapter on a " state of Probation as intended for moral discipline and improvement." The illus- trations employed, and the adaptation of Christianity to the argument, is Daniel Wilson's, but the first idea and the argument itself, is Bishop Butler's. In the pages of the one, it stands an admirable and unanswerable moral essay ; in the hands of the other, it is moulded into two powerful and convincing evangelical sermons. When we read, that " the principle of virtue imprdVed into a habit, will plainly be a security against the danger we are in from the very nature of propension or particular afi'ections " — Ave recognise Bishop Butler. But when we read that " there never was and never can be, any other effectual mode of changing the intel- lectual habits and social usages of the sinner, of stopping him from rushing down the precij)ice, of awakening him from his profound lethargy, but that which the Scriptures reveal, viz : an entire conversion of the whole soul to God by the mighty operation of the Holy Spirit" — we recognise Daniel Wilson. He seems now to have conceived the idea, which he subsequently wrought out, that the argument from analogy admitted of expansion, and could be made available, not only in support of a revelation from God, but of Christianity, in its peculiarities, as bemg that revelation. One interesting aneqdote, connected with this volume of sermons, may be mentioned now, though properly belonging to a later period. A young American clergyman named Douglas, had arrived in London, quite alone, in search of health. Being seized with sudden and serious illness whilst soj omening there, he was asked whether he would wish to see a clergyman. He at once named Mr. Daniel Wilson, from the simple circumstance 156 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. vin. that he had read and appreciated this very volume of sermons. A message was accordingly dispatched to Mr. Wilson, and found him at Mr. Fowell Buxton's. After communicating with the messenger, he returned to the company, and related the circumstances of the case. At liis request all present then knelt down, and prayed that the intercourse ahout to take jjlace with this unknown and dying man, might he blessed of God. The first interview, which was satisfactory, was followed by several others, and then Mr. Douglas died. Being a stranger in a strange land, and having no certain burial-place, Mr. Wilson, who had taken deep interest in the case, opened his own vault, and buried him with his own family. Some months passed on, and the circumstance was fading from memory, when at a large gathering of English clergymen, the Rev Mr. Nettle- wood, an American, was requested to describe the revivals of religion then taking place in his native land. He illus- trated his remarks by the case of a Mr. Douglas, a young clergyman, whose first religious impressions had been produced at one of these revivals. He mourned over him as one lost ; and told how he had come to Europe, had arrived in London, was improving in health, and anticipating a return to America and extended usefulness, when suddenly all tidings from him had ceased, and all traces of him had disappeared. " I have been," said Mr. Nettlewood, " from one end of this great city, to the other. I have enquired of many if they had ever met him ; but the name of Sutherland Douglas was unknown to all. Can any here tell me anything respecting him ? " Mr. Wilson was one of the clergy present, and he at once stepped forward, and in a voice broken with deep emotion, said, " My dear sir, I can tell you all about him. I attended on his dying hours ; and he now is buried in my family vault." The whole assembly melted into tears, at the afi'ecting narrative and striking coincidence. And all pondered on the wondrous chain of God's providence, of which the sermons now under review, formed one link. Sermons preached about this time for several parochial schools, will explain his views on the important subject of national and scriptural education ; and a sermon before the "Prayer Book and Homily Societ}^," unfolds the principles 1810—31.] LITERAHY LIFE. 157 which he thinks must be settled before secession from the Church can be justified. ' For myself,' he says, in a sermon preached at Islington, * I will teach my child all the great facts and verities of the Christian religion : and with these I will connect an enlightened but devoted adherence to the edifying rites of our episcopal Church. I will present my child at the font of baptism. I will teach him to ratify in his own person in the rite of confir- mation the vows then made. I will lead him to the altar of our Eucharistic sacrifice. I will train him to the observation of the sabbath, and the celebration of the public worship of God in the sublime devotions of our liturgy. To these habits, I will add a spirit of steady loyalty to his king and country, a willing subjection to the law, a reverence to the persons of those in authority in Church and State. Thus I will teach him to honour all men, to lofe the brotherhood, to fear God, and honour the king. Nothing shall persuade me, while I have the Bible in my hand, to separate these essential parts, from the solemn duty of education. No, I will sow the young soil with the specific seed which I wish to reap. I will graft the tree with the precise kind of fruit I wish it to bear. I will bend the tender shoot in the very position and form in which I wish to see it grow. I will imbue the new vessel with the fragrant odour which I wish it ever to retain. ' I will indeed go as far as any one in promoting harmony and co-operation with other bodies of Christians, where we are agreed in main principles, and when we cannot co-operate I will unfeignedly love them still ; but I will distinguish between charity and indifference ; and I prefer acting on my otvti convictions, and adhering to my own Church in a matter like education, where the sacrifice of principle can only lead to a hollow alliance, without abiding charity, or real esteem.' On the subject of " Secession," he says : ' Before an individual proceeds unwarrantably to disturb the unity of the Church by separation and division, he should be prepared to reply to these two questions : — 158 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VIII. '1. Is he ready to subvert altogether the existing establish- ment of Church polity ? ' 2. Has he a fair probability of substituting for it another decisively better ? ' Because the subversion of any Church would inevitably follow, if each individual were to act after the example, which, so far as he is concerned, he authorises and encourages. * And because, if nothing greatly superior is, in a fair prospect of human events, to succeed, all the guilt of disturbing without amending, of exciting confusion with no adequate counter- vailing advantage, will lie at his door.' The sermon before the Prayer Book and Homily Society, as opening his views on Church government generally, was prepared with much care ; and before being preached, was submitted to the judgment of Thomas Scott, the commentator. An interesting account of this, the last interview with that excellent man, remains. It was written at Aston Sandford, on June 25, 1819. ' I sat up with Mr. Scott last night till near twelve o'clock, talking over my correspondence with the Bishop of Chester on the doctrine of salvation. This morning he gave us a most beautiful exposition of Eomans x. 12, &c. Afterwards Mr. Scott went over my homily sermon with me. He alters but very little, and approves of most of my ecclesiastical notions. 'Mr. Scott is tolerable in health, though seventy -two years old, and asthmatical for forty-iive years. He is very busy with his new edition of the Commentary on the Bible. He has now finished the whole of the first volume, and parts of the second and third. He finishes four or five sheets a week, expounds twice a day, has above a hundred communicants at his sacrament, is popular and beloved in his neighbourhood, and has fuller churches than ever. It is quite delightful to see him once more in the flesh.' Before long he was called to preach the funeral sermon of this venerable man of God. There was no one whom he more 1810-31.] LITERARY LIFE. 159 delighted to honour, no one in whom he placed more con- fidence, no one whose writings he more habitually studied. To the close of his life, Scott's Commentary on the Bible was the book of his choice. It exactly suited him. He never seemed sensible of its defects. He never felt it heav}^ New authorities arose, new comments appeared : but still his word remained the same — " The old is better." He recommended it to every one whom he valued, and read it always himself. Its accordance with Scripture, its perfect lionesty and integrity of purpose, its moderation in statements of doctrine, the prac- tical and holy tendency everywhere manifest ; all these won his heart and kept it. And now when called to bear testimony to the writer's excellencies in a funeral sermon, he threw himself thoroughly into the work. He had to describe a man of strong natural and original powers, and at first a determined opponent of the chief truths of the Gospel, gradually borne on, to his own dismay and to the iiljury of his temporal interests, by the simple force of truth, to an agreement in the common faith of the Church, and an admission of those doctrines which he had denied. Arriving at this point, all his powers were consecrated to God. He became the laborious preacher, the voluminous writer, the wise commentator, the sagacious adviser, the oppo- nent of error in every shape, the leader in everything that was valuable. Straitened in finances, a heavy preacher, a great sufferer, he had yet much happiness and did much good. And the savour of his name remains — if not as a popular, yet as a most wise, useful, and holy man. Such was the character Daniel AVilson had to portray, and he did it well. One sermon was preached, at first, in the neighbourhood of Aston Sandford, the small church in that parish admitting scarcely a tithe of the mourners who crowded from all parts of the neighbourhood; and this sermon was expanded into two, when preached subsequently at St. John's. They are so largely quoted in the admirable and well- known " Life of the Eev. Thomas Scott," written by his son, the late Rev. John Scott, of Hull, besides having themselves passed through several editions, that further reference to them is needless. For those who may think them too eulogistic, the following extracts from letters written at the time are inserted 160 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap, VIII. here. They are the words of one who, when they were written, was Canon of Durham, but who now with so much Christian wisdom and gentleness, occupies the highest eccle- siastical dignity in the Church. "1821. I have read Wilson's sermons on Scott with great interest. But, surely, he paints too highly, and praises above measure ! What more could have been said of Luther ? And we had the same strain about Milner too. Are all apostles ? " " 1822. I remember last year expressing an opinion that Daniel Wilson had extolled Scott beyond bounds. Really, since I have read his life, I think otherwise. His devotedness, disinterestedness, industry, scriptural wisdom, and truly apos- tolical character, are most admirable and instructive ! What a pity that he could not to a greater degree recommend his matter by his style." In the year 1823, appeared the first of a series of Prefaces to various select Christian authors, published by Chalmers and Collins of Glasgow. They were five in number. The preface to Adams' Private Thoughts," appeared in 1823, to Butler's "Analogy" in 1825, to Wilberforce's " Practical View " in 1820, to Baxter's " Reformed Pastor" in 1829, and to Quesnel "on the Gospels " in 1830. The preface to Adams' "Private Thoughts" is short, but complete. It inspires a desire to read the work which it introduces. It contrasts the depth and seriousness of the author's reflections with the superficial divinity of the day. It anticipates objections and removes them. Thus it accom- plishes every purpose which a preface has in view, and it neither needs nor asks for any higher praise. The preface to Butler's " Analogy " takes a far higher flight, and requires a longer notice. It was here that the writer aimed at extending the argument from analogy, and adapting it to Christianity, to which reference has been already made. How he succeeded, other authorities, higher and abler than he who writes these lines, shall say. The first authority is that of Dr. Sumner, Bishop of Winchester : — 1810— 31. J UTERARr LIFE. 161 " The preliminary remarks and analysis of the argument prefixed to the volume of Butler's Analogy, are in themselves masterly performances, and may not improperly he instanced as the finest proof he (Daniel Wilson) has left of his mental power. They are written in his hest style ; hrief yet clear ; vigorous, and terse, and flowing." The second is Dr. Copleston, then Provost of Oriel College, Oxford, and afterwards Bishop of Llandaff : — ''April, 1825. " I have hut just finished your Introductory Essay to Bishop Butler's Analogy, and although it appears to me that your abridgment of the author is exact and judicious, yet the latter part of the Essay is what I chiefly admire and value. The remarks from p. 86, onwards, are excellent, and will be of great practical use, which I believe abridgements seldom are, except to the person who makes them. But the connection of this argument with the other branches of Christian evidence, is admirably pointed out and illustrated. I have no doubt also that you are right in thinking that Butler has fallen short of that view of Christianity which is most efl'ectual in subduing the heart of man and training him for heaven. But allowance may surely be made for the nature of his argument, which was principally to refute the infidel, and to bring men as willing disciples to the Gospel. The full develoi)ment and the powerful enforcement of Gospel truths is the constant business of our profession. He has not entered so largely into this office as might have been done — and yet, as it seems to me, he has gone as far as his under- taking required him to go. The foundation has been firmly laid. And every one who has advanced thus far, must know, that a great deal remains for him to do before the work can be considered as completed. This work gives ample scope for the abilities and zeal of all our fellow-labourers, and I willingly acknowledge that among them you have had a distinguished share. That the due reward of such labours may be your lot in this life, as it certainly will be hereafter, is the sincere praj^er of, &c., &c. " Edward Copleston." VOL. I. M 162 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON". [chap. VIII. The third authority is that of the Eev. C. Jerram, his friend and successor at St. John's : — " I go the full length with you in all you say, and admire the manner in which you bring the subject home, and show its vital importance. " I think, also, that your remarks on the argument of Butler retaining all its force, or even augmented force, on the suppo- sition of your statement of evangelical truth being the basis of the system, is exceedingly good. I wish an Act of Parliament could be obtained to prevent any edition of Butler from being circulated, without your Intro- duction." The preface to Wilberforce's "Practical View," attempts in the first place, to give a just conception of the merits of the work itself; it then describes the reception it met with on its first appearance, and its connection with the revival of true re- ligion; and concludes with some general observations on the gradual i^rogress which had since taken place. Much valuable matter is thus secured, and the interest in the work greatly increased. i . The venerable author himself read this preface, and there may be some truth in the remark he made after doing so, as recorded in his "Life;" for the terms employed were highly laudatory : — " Such things ought never to be published till a man is dead." (" Life," vol. V. p. 345.) Daniel Wilson naturally availed himself of this opportunity to express his abhorrence of slavery : but his opinion found fuller and freer utterance subsequently in a sermon preached at Cheltenham, Islington, and St. John's, and ultimately committed to the press in 1830, under the title, " The guilt of forbearing to deliver our British colonial slaves." The preface to Baxter's " Eeformed Pastor " is not so much an explanatory comment on it, as a stirring appeal, on the basis 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 168 and after the manner of it. The writer does in 1829, what Baxter did in 1656 — he attempts to rouse a slumbering Church; and bids all to faith, and calling upon God. A few words from a letter addressed by Dr. Chalmers to him, will be a sufficient commendation : — 'Edinburgh, May, 14, 1829. " I have just perused with very great delight your preface to Baxter's ' Reformed Pastor.' " Quesnel, " on the Gospels," was the last of the series of Prefaces. It is chiefly historical and explanatory, and will be found both interesting and instructive. The praise bestowed upon the labours and research of sixty years, is mingled with the cautions necessary for the perusal of the work of one, who, though excommunicated by the Pope, in 1714, yet lived and died a Roman Catholic. ^ Midway among these Prefaces, viz. in 1823, appeared a work of a different character. Weighed down with his abundant labours, Daniel Wilson was compelled to seek rest and recreation on the Continent. His family accompanied him ; but all being occupied with their respective journals, the duty of a correspondent fell on him. His letters were read by a large circle of anxious and admiring friends at home. The3\natu- rally inspired interest, and the demand for publication, eventually made, could scarcely be refused. The result was, the appearance of two small volumes entitled " Letters from an absent Brother." They were what they professed to be, and are literally without pretension. When first published, they entered too much into matters of personal detail, and many of the conclusions were no doubt hastily drawn. But much of this was altered in a second edition, and there is a freshness of feeling running through the whole, an enjojTuent of nature, a vein of true piety, a zeal for God, a description of Popish superstition and Protestant laxit}^ a seeking out of good men, and a doing of good works, which insensibly interest the reader, carry him unwearied from place to place, and leave him pleased and instructed M 2 164 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VIII. with this unexciting narrative of a five months continental journey. But the most important of all his works before he left England (and this is the limit here assigned to his " Literary Life ") was " The Evidences of Christianity," completed and published in two volumes in the year 1830. This Avas probably the last book of the kind presented to the Church, before the modern school arose, which, slighting evidences, laid the main stress of Christianity upon tradition and Church authority. Tlie introduction of a principle so essentially Popish into a Protestant Church, could not fail to cause great agitation ; and the pendulum which had before been keeping true time, has ever since been oscillating violently between the two extremes of Tractarianism and Latitudinarianism. When agitation ceases as cease it will, and quietness returns, then will Christianity be regarded once more as a " reasonable service," and works upon the Evidences, such as this, will assume their proper place and be rated at their proper value. Its chief peculiarity, as dis- tinguished from similar attempts, is that it combines close reasoning on the evidences with strong appeals to the conscience. No doubt a certain difficulty follows : for those who need the evidences will disregard the appeals, and those who value the appeals will not need the evidences. Still there are four large and important classes to whom the work will be invaluable: first, those who are entering on a religious life ; secondly, those who are satisfied of the truth of Christianity, but unable to give to any one that asketh a "reason of the hope that is in them;" thirdl}^ those whose faith may have been shaken by intercourse with unbelievers ; and fourthly, those who are anxious to revive forgotten truths in their own souls. For all such characters these volumes are well adapted, since they do exactly what is wanted. They speak at once to the head and to the heart. No labour was spared by the autbor. He availed himself of the writings of seventy-nine other authors to enrich his own : twenty-three different works in various languages were consulted on the single subject of inspiration. There was no haste. Eleven years elapsed between the first conception and the final publication. It was in the year 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 165 1819, that lie thus wrote to Mrs. Hannah More upon the subject : — * 9, Chapel Street, November 16, 1819. * I have need of your advice. The awful signs of the present period have led me to think that possibly a course of sermons on the Evidences of Christianity might not be without its use. The objections to such a step, are, I am aware, sufficiently formidable. The number of works extant, the improbability of those who are infected with infidelity being present, the difficulty in the hurry of other indispensable duties of preparing such a course as may tolerably satisfy a thinking person, the danger of injecting doubts into the minds of the unstable, &c. * The arguments in favour of the measure are the obvious ones of the arrogant and widely diffused publications of infidelity, the necessity of inculcating old truths, the hope of confirming the minds of the young, and the satisfaction of having made the attempt. ' Now allow me to request yoiu* opinion on this preliminary question. ' I have an idea that a middle line might be traced out between cold external argument and flimsy declamation, some- thing solid and yet practical, not controversial or over-critical and yet not vapid, and insulting to an adversary ; something that should partake of Paley's historical clearness, and Abbadie's close reasoning, and Grotius' brevity, and Scott's practical and weighty argument, and Porteus' inimitable sweetness and piety, and half-a-dozen other virtues of half-a-dozen other men, which never were combined, and which it is madness and presumption and folly even to talk of imitating, and which throw the whole attempt into mere faii-y vision. ' But, seriously, I have a notion in my head that something of argument and practice might be conjoined.' In consequence of Mrs. Hannah More's advanced age and weak sight, her answer was conveyed by means of an amanuensis ; but before the letter left, she took the pen and traced a few lines of encouragement, ending thus : — " What your hand findeth to do, do, not only with all your 166 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. VIII. might, but quickly. May the Holy Spirit direct and strengthen you, dear sir, is the prayer of your faithful and affectionate " Hannah More." Thus encouraged by the advice of Mrs. Hannah More, and many other friends, he began to carry his design into execution. He prepared a course of Lectures, and delivered them at St. John's Chapel during the winter months of the year 1819. Then followed their preparation for the press, and in October, 1820, he reports progress as follows : — 'WoRTON, October 26, 1820. 'I cannot prevail upon myself to break up my ten weeks retreat this summer without giving you some kind of account of my progress in the work which you were so good as to encourage me to undertake. I have been steadily pursuing it at every leisure moment, and have made a rough copy of the whole. The subject has so opened upon my mind as I have gone on, that I more and more perceive how it admits of new illustration, and additional statements in almost every branch of it. Nor can I helj), at times, stopping to admire the goodness of the Divine providence in surrounding the most important of aU enquiries with a brightness of evidence to which nothing was ever equal or similar. It was indeed only last week that I was meditating on one topic — sufficiently exhausted one would think — that of the Scripture Miracles, and I was really fiUed with surprise at the prominent and untouched elevation on which they stood, and looked down as it were, Avith disdain on the wretched prodigies which infidels have some- times dared to set up against them. ' The variety of the Christian evidences has also been a subject of my admiration, and I feel persuaded that when the inspiration of Scripture, and the excellency and efficacy of the Scripture doctrine, sustained by the accumulated historical testimonies, are brought forward fairly before an honest mind, the conviction of the truth of Christianity must be quite irresistible. ' In short, my dear madam, I am enraptured with my subject; and whether I ever live to complete my projected book or not, 1810—31.] LITEKARY LIFE. 167 the study delights and edifies me, and more than repays the lahour it may reqiiii'e. ' I think it will take a year and a half more to complete my design. For I cannot go on fast. Every thing demands thought, and reading, and prayer. Two volumes octavo will be about my limit. A mere table of contents satisfies no one. And I cannot well compress such an argmnent into a less compass, for it is by the weight which each branch lends to the rest, that the entire force is to be collected.' It is interesting thus to penetrate the mind of an author, and trace the progress of his work. How few who take it up, and skim it sHghtly, and offer easy ciiticisms, are aware of the labour and research, the thought and prayer, that have been given to its composition ! The design was not completed at this time. Health forbade, and change of circumstances intervened, as will be related in due course. It was not till the j^ears 1827 — 1830, that the Lectures were again delivered in Islington Parish Church, and finally completed and published. It would be a vain attempt to analyse the work. It must be read. In fact, it has been read and diffused so widely in four editions throughout England and India, that any further notice would be superfluous, if not impertinent. No thoughtful reader can rise from its perusal without finding knowledge increased, doubts removed, faith confiimed, and every good purpose strengthened. Meanwhile all England was convulsed by the avowed purpose of the Government to concede the claims of the Roman Catho- lics. In years past, Daniel Wilson had been adverse to the concession of their claims ; but now his mind changed, and he took a prominent and earnest part in furthering the proposed measure. When Sir Robert (then Mr.) Peel, resigned his seat for Oxford, and again became a candidate for it, Daniel Wilson warmly supported him. His reply to a member of Convocation, was published, and was as follows : — 'Islington, February 19, 1829. ' I shall have the greatest pleasure, not only in voting for Mr. 168 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. viii. Peel, but in lending all the help I can in promoting his re-election. I consider his conduct to have been most noble. If I differed from him in judgment I should still support him, on the ground of his admirable public services ; but, agreeing with him as I do, I shall naturally be most anxious to serve him. I conceive Mr. Peel has rendered the most important and critical service to his country which any statesman has done in my memory. The tranquillity of the empire will be owing very much, under Providence, to his manly and honour- able decision. ' Let me know the day of election, and I will come down at all events.' When the measure was under discussion, he wrote a letter to the editor of the " Christian Observer," which w^as afterwards sei3arately published as a pamphlet, in which he stated at length the reasons which had led to his change of mind, the evils which he apprehended from a refusal of the measure, and the benefits he anticipated from its adoption. He also entered at length into the religious bearings of the question. This letter had a wide circulation, and made a great impression. It alienated some friends from him for a time, and sacrificed a few for ever. But there were many with him — Wilberforce, Acland, Dealtry, the Grants, &c. ; and all kinds of testimonies are still extant, expressing assent and approbation. Letters from Sir J. Macintosh and Dr. Chalmers, are amongst them. The former sought an interview, for the purpose of consulting him how best, in his speech in Parliament, the religious difficulties of the question might be met ; and the latter writes from Edin- bm-gh, as follows : — " I have to offer you my best thanks for the co-py of your admirable letter, in whose reasonings and views I entirely acquiesce. My speeches are not worthy of perusal by one who has read, and far less by him who has produced, your full and comprehensive view of the question." Mr Simeon of Cambridge also says in characteristic words : — 1810—31.] LITERARY LIFE. 169 " The best way is to let Mr. alone. You are not the only friend of robbery and murder! I remember Mr. Cecil says — ' If a little man be attacked, he is very anxious to vindicate himself, because he is afraid of being snuffed out.' There must be a larger pair of snuffers than an}" Mr. possesses, to snuff you out, my brother, or to impair your light. "I think I once told you, that I take the moon for my pattern. When she is at the full, the dogs bark at her. But I never yet heard of her stopping to enquire, why they barked. " Your CO -heretical friend and brother, "C. Simeon." This first letter, written in March, was followed by a second in April. In it he stated the measures which he considered desirable for Ireland under her altered circumstances. These measures were chiefly of a religious character ; and this second letter, though not so brilhant or exciting as the first, was yet eminently practical and useful. Dr. Chalmers said of it, that he felt " quite confident a great and general impression would be made by the views thus brought forward." Whatever judgment may be formed of the part he took in this matter, there can be no doubt as to the singleness of his purpose, and his earnest sincerity. He himself, in after years, expressed regret, and a feeling of disappointment that the result had fallen short of his anticipations. But it is too soon to decide. We know but in part. The problem is even now not worked out. The results, when developed, may show that the tendency of the measure was to promote the glory of God and the good of the Church. The year 1830 was productive of another valuable work. Seven sermons on the " Lord's Day," were preached and published. It was a favourite subject; and here the author tells us " all his heart." He yields nothing to timid friends or angry foes. The seventh day of rest, as instituted in Paradise, confirmed on Sinai, morally binding upon all, restored to its integrity by our Lord, changed from the last day of the week to the first by His Apostles, designed for holy purposes and the soul's health — these points, and others of much 170 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. viii. moment, are supported by arguments of all kinds, drawn from all sources. A critical reader may, perhaps, find fault with the accumulation of arguments, and say that three or four weak points will never make a strong one. He may also complain of the style ; for though not now florid (that is past) it was unpleasantly authori- tative. These faults, however, are trifling compared with the result ; which is, to place the divine authority and perpetual obligation of the Lord's Day upon a basis incontrovertible and immoveable. Two or three funeral sermons may be noticed together ; one occasioned by the death of Charles Grant, Esq. in 1823 ; one by the death of the Rev. Samuel Crowther, vicar of Christ Church, Newgate Street, in 1829 ; and one by the death of the Rev. Basil Woodd, minister of Bentinck Chapel, Marylebone, in 1831. All are interesting, and the discrimination of character admirable. A controversy arose, in 1831, between Daniel Wilson and Dr. Burton, Professor of Divinity at Oxford. It sprung primarily from the errors of Mr. Bulteel ; and turned upon the subject of baptismal justification. Whilst engaged in it, a friend called, and found him not only busy, but anxious and uneasy. Enquiry having been made as to the cause, Mr. Wilson said, " I am doing a most diflicult and delicate thing. I am reading over a controversial letter which is about to be printed, in order to find out and strike out whatever is not in a Christian spirit. There is not a more diflicult thing than to write on controverted points in the true spirit of the Gospel. After I have done what I can myself, I shall send it to a friend, that he may correct what I have left imperfect." We may now open the study door, and return to scenes of active life. The first object which meets the eye, is St. John's, Bedford Row. CHAPTER IX. ST. JOHN'S. 1811—1824. Origin of St. John's Chapel — Dr. Sacheverel — Closing of St. John's Chapel — Manner in the pulpit — Composition of Sermons — Anecdote of a French pastor — Number of Sermons — Courses of Sermons — Lost MSS. — Congregation — Distin- guished auditors —First impffessions — Extensive usefulness — Dr. Buchanan — Canon Dale — Basil Woodd — Correspondence- Question of Law — Confirmation — Collections — District Visiting Society — Auxiliary Bible Society — Visits to Oxford, Norfolk, Birmingham, Dublin, Armagh, Bristol, Afanchester, Stafford- shire, North "Wales, Liverpool, Buckingham.shire, Northamptonshire, Cambridge, Halifax, Huddersfield, Casterton, Leeds, Knaresborough, Channel Islands, France — Anecdotes — Opinions on various subjects — French translations — Eclectic Society — Failure of health — Continental tour — Dangerous illness — Recovery — Becomes Vicar of Islington. St. John's Chapel was built in the reign of Queen Anne and the clays of Dr. Sacheverel. It stood upon ground be- longing to the trustees of Eugby School, and within the boundaries of the Parish of St. Andrew's, Holborn. The tradition is, that the Queen, looking favourably on Dr. Sacheverel, and desirous of promoting him, sent for the patron of the rectory of St. Andrew's, which was then vacant, in order to express her wish that the Doctor should be appointed rector. The presentation belonged to the noble family of Montagu, now merged, by the marriage of the heiress, in the Dukedom of Buccleugh and Queensbury. Some intimation of the Queen's purpose having transpired, a "clerk " was selected, and duly appointed, before her ^lajesty's summons was obeyed, and her wish expressed ; and then with courteous words the impossibility of compliance was pleaded. Queen Anne, how- ever, was not to be so baffled. The newly-appointed rector was made a bishop. This not only vacated the living, but 172 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. placed the next appointment at the disposal of the Crown. It was instantly conferred upon Dr. Sacheverel, and he lived and died, Eector of St. Andrews. He was buried in the chancel of the church, and the inscription over his tomb still remains : " Infra jacet Henricus Sacheverel, S. T. P. Hujusce Ecclesise Hector. Obiit 5 die Junii, Anno Dom. 1724." Some of the citizens were greatly offended at the appoint- ment, and as a safety valve against the pressure of High Church doctrines, combined, and built St. John's Chapel in Bedford Row. If this was indeed its mission, it has been accomplished ; and now the place which once knew it, knows it no more. One Thursday evening in November, 1856, when the verger was about to ring the bell and summon the congregation for the usual week-day evening service, he could produce no sound. StiU many were assembled, and divine service proceeded ; but when the Minister ascended the pulpit, he perceived, from signs not to be mistaken, that the whole of the immense and massive roof had shifted and sunk, and might at any instant crush him and the whole congregation. A very short sermon naturally, and most wisely, followed this discovery ; and that was the last sermon preached, or ever to be preached, in a chapel where the truth as it is in Jesus, had been so long and so faithfull}' held forth by a succession of able and pious ministers.' The building never had been consecrated, but was held on lease by each successive minister, who officiated under the bishop^s licence, with the consent of the rector of the parish : and this was the tenure by which the chapel was held in the days of Cecil and Wilson. Possessing no sort of ecclesiastical character externally, the building was yet in the interior, and previous to an enlarge- ment in 1821, which brought forward the galleries and injured the proportions, a noble and imposing structure; and few recollections of a religious kind are more deeply written on the memories of a generation now passing away, than of the crowded congregations in that interior hanging upon Daniel Wilson's lips, and listening to his commanding oratory and * The chapel has been recently iJuUed down, and the materials sold. ST. JOHN'S CHAPEL, BEDKOKD ROW, WITH DWELLING HOUSE. Vol. T. pa§e 1811—24.] ST. John's. 173 impassioned appeals. There was nothing of affectation in his mode of address, thus to win popularity, or draw a crowd. He stood as God's minister to do God's work. He was an earnest man, when earnest men were comparatively rare ; he fully preached the Gospel, when preachers of the Gospel were com- paratively few. Add to this, that he was stedfast when many were given to change, and moderate when many were prone to extremes; and you have the primary causes of his great and ever-increasing influence at St. John's. Others there were. His manner was natural. His voice was perfect. His enun- ciation was remarkably clear and distinct. His action varied with the subject: now grave, now vehement, but always grace- ful and appropriate. When through a crowd of standing auditors, he walked up the long side aisle, before the sermon, with features set and full of seriousness, every eye turned towards him with a feeling of interest as to what the Lord God was about to say by his mouth. Those who have known him in the decline of life, or those even who have only known him in Islington, have no idea of his power in the pulpit of St. John's. In the decline of life, peculiarities often crept into his discourses ; and in Islington, local and parochial matters upon which he wished to influence men's minds, were frequently introduced ; but there was nothing of the kind at St. John's. He was then like a man, " set for the defence of the Gospel." Mr. Simeon used to say that the congregation were at his feet. All felt his power. The preaching of " Christ crucified," and the salvation of the souls of men were his great objects — never forgotten — never out of sight. There was a seriousness in his manner, before which levity shrunk abashed ; an occasional vehemence, which swept all obstacles before it ; a pathos and tenderness, which opened in a moment the fountain of tears ; and a command, which silenced for a time the mutterings of unbelief. In the earlier part of his ministry at St. John's he preached extempore. He thought it most useful at the time and for the people. Writing to his assistant minister, in the year 1811, he says : — ' Of the taste of the congregation of St. John's, I am perfectly 174 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. ignorant. Since I have been ministering to it I have simply adopted that course which I conceived on the whole to have the preference — to be most for the glory of God, and the salvation and holiness of the Church. I may have erred fundamentally in my opinion, as I have unquestionably fallen short in every part of what I have aimed at accomplishing. But whilst my views continue the same, I certainly should violate my con- science were I to act upon the sentiments of others.' His sermons were thoroughly prepared, but only a few notes taken up into the pulpit. These notes were gradually enlarged, in order to lessen, as he was accustomed to say, the strain upon his mind ; and finally, the sermons were fully written, though not always preached as written. His mind was clear and his self-possession unruffled. Argument therefore readily mingled with exhortation, and exposition of Scripture was varied by appeals to the conscience. There were no set phrases to fill up gaps ; no needless repetitions to spin out time ; but all was clear, solid, natural, impressive, instructive. Occasionally there was hesitation for want of the right word : but the only effect of this was to excite the idea of fulness of matter and eagerness of purpose. Every part of the service was in harmony, and in the spirit of a memorandum which had been left by Mr. Cecil when no longer able to exercise his ministry : — " I am anxious that whoever takes the future management of the chapel, should conduct it in the same order ; and that no new customs should be introduced ; that all neglects and abuses may be watched over and restrained ; and that the same grave and holy uniformity be preserved." The prayers were accordingly read without any chaunting ; a psalm was sung after the second lesson, as well as before the communion service and sermon ; the organ, which was one of the finest old instruments in England, was played by Miss Cecil, a mistress of the art, who caught up and carried on the sentiment and feeling of the hour ; and the whole was grave^ devotional, and edifying. 1811—24.] ST. John's. 175 The sermons were often long, but that was deemed no griev- ance : and as he had no parochial charge, they were made the centre round which other duties revolved. Texts were selected on the Sunday evening or Monday morning, and his thoughts were then concentrated on them for that week. If a brother clerg3maan was met in the streets, the conversation would turn, not on the current news of the day, but upon last or next Sunday's sermon: — What the text? What the treatment? What the effect ? No labour was deemed too great. He had that peculiarity which characterises every distinguished man — he was pains -taking. He was always a student, and delighted in study. The body of the discourse was written in very large short-hand, so as easily to catch his eye, for he was very short- sighted in middle life ; whilst the blank side was covered with extracts from critics, commentators, fathers, divines, and devo- tional writers of all kinds^ This involved great labour, and must by no means be confounded with the " short and easy method " of looking at a commentator, adopting his comment, and from it framing the sermon. In one of his manuscript sermons, which had been several times preached, there are long extracts on the blank leaves from eight different authors : and six or seven sermons examined promiscuously, show long quotations from fifty-nine different authorities : amongst them Vitringa, Luther, Lowth, Calvin, Scott, Henry, Maclaurin, Leighton, Davenant, Chrysostom, Cyprian, Daille, Bishop Pearson, Dr. Wells, South, Milner, Macknight, Clement of Alexandria, Bourdaloue, Bishop Horsley, Waterland, Lardner, Blomfield, Butler, Girdlestone, Cecil, Hooker, Sumner, and Witsius. He had thus matter for many sermons under one cover, and upon the same text : and by varying the authorities he could, and did, vary to a great extent the tone and character of the discourse. Thus the sketch formed in his own mind, was filled up with the great thoughts of great men, and what was original was enriched from the stores of others. This power of adaptation is not common, but it was one of Daniel Wilson's peculiarities. He was always on the watch for useful hints. A simple, pious, and unpretending French pastor was once brought to his study to be introduced to him. At St. Quentin, the place where this pastor ministered, a 176 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap, IX. species of revival in religion had taken place, and through his instrumentality. He related the circumstances in a simple way, and particularly mentioned one sermon he had preached, which appeared to have produced a great effect upon his people. Mr. Wilson had listened with much interest up to this i)oint : hut the instant he heard of the sermon, out came pen and paper, and a rapid series of questions began. What was the text ? What the divisions ? What the plan of treatment ? What the classes addressed ? All was taken down, avowedly for future use, in the hope that a similarly good effect might be again produced. Thus he gathered honey for his own hive from every quarter. A register was kept of every sermon preached, with ruled columns, and short comments, such as : — * Christmas daij, 1811. I was very dry, cold, and lifeless. I did not seem to come home to the hearts of the people. 'Feb. 26, 1812. This was a most delightful service to my own mind. ' Nov. IG, 1817. Funeral sermon for the Princess Charlotte of Wales. * April 10, 1820. Sermon on Dean Milner's death.' Before he went to St. John's, he had preached six hundred and forty sermons. Whilst at St. John's he preached one thousand one hundred and eighty-seven sermons. At Islington he preached eight hundred and twenty. At various places, between the years 1801 and 1832, he i^reached seven hundred and eighty. Whilst at home on a visit from India, seventj'- eight. And in India itself, two thousand three hundred and one. Making a total of five thousand eight hundred and six sermons, and addresses partaking of the character of sermons ! It ^is not meant that he composed that number of separate sermons : but that he had preached that number of times. Many sermons were preached eleven and twelve times, and many oftener still. It was his frequent custom. Thus he writes to his assistant at St. John's, in 1809, from Oxford : — ' I have just been prevailed upon to take a charity sermon 1811—24.] ST. John's. 177 before our corporation here. I think of 1 Peter i. 22, as the text. I mean to try it first at Worton, and then bring it to Oxford, on its way to St. Jolm's, December 10th.' He was fond of courses oft sermons, and preached them regularly on the Wednesday mornings during Lent, and at other times on the Sunday. Thus during successive Lents he preached on the Fifty-first Psalm, the temptation in the wilderness, our Lord's prayer, our Lord's passion, the Fifty- third chapter of Isaiah ; and at other times from the Fifty- fifth chapter of Isaiah, the Epistle to the Ephesians, the early chapters of the Acts, the books of Jonah and Ruth, the history of Hezekiah, the parable of the ^larriage Supper, the thirteenth chapter of 1st Corinthians, the work of the Holy Spirit. Some of these courses of sermons were wonderfully efi'ective in his hands. Many of his manuscripts were lost ; many were published ; many were stolen and destroyed by native servants in India ; so that those now in existence are but like "two or three berries on the uppermost branches," — reminiscences of "labours more abundant." He ever acted on the saying which was often on his lips: — " We may err in a thousand ecclesiastical matters, but we cannot be doing wrong in preaching the Gospel." This therefore was his delight ; and here he was " instant in season and out of season," reproving, rebuking, and exhorting, with " all long-suffering and doctrine." He never came up to his own idea of what a preacher should be : for writing to Mrs. Hannah More, soon after the first publication of his volume of sermons, in 1818, he saj^s: — ' Let me thank you for your flattering opinion of my volume, which infinitely dissatisfies me, however kindly ni}^ friends may bear with it. I have a conception sometimes of what preaching ought to be — but I fall far short in every attempt.' The congregation assembling at St. John's was calculated to draw out all the powers of the minister thus set over them in the Lord. They were gathered from all parts of the metropoHs, and there were few persons truly interested in religion who VOL. I. N 178 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [CIIAP. IX. were not occasionally present. In after years, when, as bishop, Daniel Wilson passed through the length and breadth of India, he was still amongst his hearers ; and the sermons preached at St. John's were the frequent subjects of discourse: "I remember hearing ^''our lordship at St. John's ;" "I remember such a text, or such a sermon at St. John's;" these were the constant salutations. Amongst the regular attendants were John Thornton and his sons — names suggestive of singular goodness and bene- ficence. There sat Charles Grant with his family, and two distinguished sons, the one afterwards as Lord Glenelg, President of the Board of Control, and Secretary of State for the Colonies ; the other as Sir Robert Grant, Governor of Bombay. There also sat Zachary Macaulay accompanied by his son, the legis- lative counsellor of India and historian of England : ennobling literature and now ennobled by it. Dr. Mason Good was there; a physician of high repute, the master of seventeen languages, and translator of the Psalms and the book of Job, who from a disciple of Belsham was now " sitting at the feet of Jesus." Near him might be seen Mr. Stephen and his family, Mr. Cardale, Mr. Bainbridge, Mr. Wigg, Mr. Charles Bridges, and many others of high repute and piety. Lawyers of note, also, who afterwards adorned the bench, were pewholders in St. John's. The good Bishop Ryder often attended, and Lord Cal- thorpe, ;Mr. Bowdler, the "facile princeps,'^ as he was termed, of the rising barristers of his day, and Sir Digby Mackworth. Mr. Wilberforce was frequently present, with his son Samuel, " to take care of him." The late Duchess of Beaufort also often sought to hear him, with many members of her family. Individuals of every ** sort and condition " were thus assembled — high and low, rich and poor, one with another. Thirty or forty carriages might often be counted during the London season, standing in triple rows about the doors ; and though there was, as is too often unhappily the case in proprietary chapels, but scant accommodation for the poor, yet they loved to attend, and every vacant sitting-place Avas filled by them, the moment the doors were opened. The importance of such a congregation is obvious at a glance ; and the minister himself was quite sensible of it. In 1511—24.] ST. John's. 179 November, 1811, the early days of his ministry, he vrrote to his wife : — * Mr. Stephen enclosed to me a letter from Mr. Marriott, a gentleman very high in the law, who came to St. John's with ]\Irs. Marriott on Sunday evening, in which he expresses his conviction that every part of the discourse was agi'eeable to Divine truth. What a cause of praise to the Giver of all mercy ! May the conviction thus wrought, lead to still further measures of knowledge and grace. How important is the situation of a minister in London ! He never knows whom he is addressing.' And in a letter of a later date lie expresses himself to the same effect : — ' On Sunday evening I was quite surprised as I was going into chapel, by a knock at the vestry door, and Mrs. R. Ryder and Lady E. Somerset (daughter of the Duchess of Beaufort), with another lady, requesting me to find them seats. May God our Saviour bless his word to these and all others who hear it I ' All persons were not, of course, equally attracted. A first sermon did not always please : but let any one hear him a second time, or a third, and they seldom wished to hear any other preacher. " I vdll never go to hear that Daniel Wilson again ; " was the expression of a young man, then training for the law, and making no profession of religion, now of mature age, unspotted reputation, and true piety, who had been persuaded to attend St. John's. But he did hear him again ; and now his observation on retiring from the chapel was, "I will never hear anybody but Daniel Wilson, if I can help it." Failing in his endeavour to obtain a pew, he sat for six months upon one of the drop-seats affixed to the outside of the pew doors in the middle aisle ; and there amidst the crowd of worshippers, drank in the word of life. It is told of another individual, now advanced in Hfe, and distinguished both in the political and religious world, that when he first came up to London, to study for the bar, he N 2 180 THE LIFE OP DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. casually (as men speak,) entered St. John's chapel one Sunday evening. After standing for a long while in the aisle and failing to get a seat, he felt vexed and chafed, and was retiring. One of the settled congregation, however, saw him going, followed him to the outer door, brought him back, and made room for him in his pew. The sermon that he then heard, was instrumental to his conversion, and he walked from thenceforth in the way that leadeth to everlasting life. The incident is not only encouraging to ministers, but instructive to pewholders : the opening of a door may lead to the salvation of a soul ! Another incident may also be noted. A near relative of Daniel Wilson was one of a large compan}^, when a gentleman approached and sought a personal introduction. " I wished to be introduced," he said, in explanation, " to a relative of one to whom I owe everything for time and eternity. I am only one of very many who do not know and never spoke to Mr. Wilson, but to whom he has been a father in Christ. He never will know, and he never ought to know, the good he has been the means of doing, for no man could bear it." Such incidents might be multiplied : but it needs not to those who know the power of Divine grace, and who remember the sure word of prophecy, "My word shall not return unto me void ; but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the things whereto I sent it." (Isaiah Iv. 11.) The celebrated Dr. Claudius Buchanan, writing in 1814, well expressed what many felt, " I rejoice to hear from time to time of your labours, and of the triumphs of the Gospel at the church of St. John's. It is a theatre of grander events than the general Congress." It has been already stated that no parochial charge was legally attached to St, John's Chapel : and indeed it was necessary that the minister should be much upon his guard, lest a feeling of jealousy should be aroused in the parish. But to the wants of his own congregation he was at full liberty to attend, and when his advice or help was needed, he was always to be found in his study, which was at the end of a long passage, and was connected with the chapel. One day, a young clergyman called upon him. Whilst at 1811—24.] ST. John's. college he had translated the whole of the plays of Sophocles, mto English verse. He now needed advice as to the publica- tion of them ; and came to ask, whether it would be in any sense derogatory to his new character as a clergyman ? Mr. Wilson listened to the details with much interest, and then with the good sense which characterised him, gave the following advice : " If as a clergyman," he said, " you had given yourself to this work, it would have been unbecoming, and contrary to the duties you had undertaken. But as a college exercise it was perfectly legitimate ; and the publication, now that you are in orders, will be in no sense wrong. On the contrar}^ it may do you good ; establish your character as a scholar ; and extend your usefulness. Publish by all means; and then give yourself wholly to the work of the ministry." The advice was taken, and the results anticipated followed. The "young clergyman" then, is now the Eev. Thomas Dale, canon of St. Paul's, and vicar of St. Pancras. But after all, he was a busy man, and not always patient of such interruptions. He had laid to heart, and often repeated, a saying of Mr. Cecil's, that " if a minister was always to he had he w^as good for nothing." Many accordingly who called on him, met with a kind reception, but a speedy dismissal. The moment the business was ended, the hand was shaken and the " good-bye " spoken. Of this his old friend, Mr. Basil Woodd, who was fond of a little quiet talk, used to complain. " When I go to see Mr. Wilson," he was wont to say, "before I have well settled myself in the chair and got into conversation, I hear him say, ' Good-bye, dear Basil Woodd, here is your hat, and here is your umbrella.' " No doubt affection was, in some degree, checked, and a certain kind of influence forfeited by this, and some persons may be disposed to blame it : but the man who himself fills a public post, with unceasing engagements, and every hour occupied, will not be disposed to throw the first stone ! Much time was necessarily taken up by correspondence. In the year 1812, he preached a seimon, in which he expressed an opinion that all close intercourse should be avoided with those who denied tlie Divinity of our Lord ; quoting, as an authority, the words and example of St. John, who was emphatically the 182 THE LIFE OF DANIEL AYILSOK. [chap. IX. Apostle of Love. The next week a letter was sent to him by one of his hearers, of twenty-three pages of closely written paper, objecting to this statement, and avowing himself by education an Arian " to say the least," and opening the whole controvers3^ It is easy to imagine what time and thought the answer would requii'e. Then a circumstance occurred which attracted much public interest at the time, involved much legal disputation, and occupied much time. It was the case of an excellent young person, who was shamefully treated, and finally disinherited, by a rich but half insane father. She had no helper but Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Bartlett who was then the assistant minister, but they gave themselves no rest till justice was done to her. These are mere specimens of the multitude of cases which came before him as a London clergyman. Whenever anything within his range got wrong, he was applied to as the person to set it right, and he was always prompt and ready to respond to such appeals. It was not here he grudged the time. There was a good deal of machinery connected with St. John's, which claimed his attention. There were large Sunday Schools, taught by members of the congregation, in which he was much interested. The Welsh Schools, as they were called, or schools for the instruction and entire maintenance of children of the Principality, attended at St. John's. Collections were annually made also for the St. Andrew's Parochial Schools. It was for the benefit of all these primarily, that the "sermons to children," already referred to, were preached and printed. The confirmations also occupied and interested him greatly. He speaks himself of one occasion, when three hundred and twenty-five young persons, " the flower of his flock," were presented to the bishop, and a large proportion of them after- Avards led on to the Lord's Supper. It was for their benefit, that he published his tracts on Confirmation and the Lord's Supper. The number of communicants at St. John's was very large. Sometimes there were five hundred present at one time ; and the average was three and four hundred : which would tell of a 1811—24.] ST. John's. 183 a total amounting to six or seven hundred at the least. So greatly was the service protracted, that though the elements were administered to a whole rail of communicants at a time^ a few minutes only intervened between the conclusion of the morning and commencement of the afternoon service. The collections made for religious and charitable purposes were very frequent and very large. No church in London sur- passed St. John's in liberality ; and those who were members of it, tell now of the pleasure they felt, when, in the year 1819, on the issue of a King's letter on behalf of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, their contributions ex- ceeded the miited contributions of St. James', Piccadilly, and St. George's, Hanover Square, and amounted to 1d71. 13s. lid. The following list is really worthy to be held in remem- brance : — ^ £ s. d. ' Feb. 5, 1812. Collection for British prisoners in France . . . . lOG 15 9 ' March 13, 1814. For the Germans, suffering from French war . . . . 203 0 0 'Aug. 13, 1815. For the sufferers after the battle of Waterloo . . . 211 0 0 'Nov. 9, 1817. For district Visiting Society . 193 1 0 'Nov. 19, 1817. British and Foreign Bible Society, Wednesday morning 111 14 8 ' March 29, 1818. For Church Missionary Society 203 12 9 ' Jan. 31, 1819. For St. Andrew's Parochial Schools . . . . 88 1 9 'May 23, 1819. For Welsh Schools . . . 114 IG 2 ' Sept. 19, 1822. For the Jews' Society . . 125 10 5 These are extracted from his own notes, as specimens of wliat the congregation contributed, and as proofs that they were " fruitful in all good works." His appeals were ver}^ urgent ; for though he liad perfect confidence in his own people, yet many strangers were always present, and he was not willing that any should escape. His v:ords on one occasion will illustrate his plain speaking and 184 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap, IX. power over conscience : the echo of them might even now do good to grudging Christians. He was pleading the cause of charit}^, and closed by saying, " Some will, I fear, notwithstanding what I have urged, pass the plate and give nothing, thinking nohocly sees. I tell you — I tell such an one — God sees." His people were also sound in their Church principles. They loved the truth, but they loved the Church also, and they proved it by what took place when the Hon. and Rev. Baptist Noel, one of their ministers in succession to Daniel Wilson, publicly seceded and published his reasons for so doing. Personally he was much admired and beloved ; but only about twenty indi- viduals followed him. The body of the congregation were too deeply rooted and grounded in Church principles to be moved from their steadfastness. The first real District Visiting Society was established in connection with St. John's. The principle of visiting and relieving the poor methodically, and by the instrumentality of the laity, was then a novel experiment, though now so exten- sively prevalent. The suggestion was owing to Mr. Stevens, one of the congregation ; every Tuesday evening the visitors met their minister in the vestry for consultation and prayer ; and the reports of their proceedings, drawn up by him annually from the year 1812, are still extant. Sums varying from 500Z. to 80 OZ. were every year expended, vast good was done, and an admirable example set. It need scarcely be added that associations for aiding all the great religious and missionary projects of the day were in active operation. In the proceedings of the City of London Auxiliary Bible Society, the minister of St. John's took a lively interest, and all the local reports, from 1812 to 1819, were drawn up by him. He was also an influential member of the Church Missionary Society, and habitually aided their deliberations. But he did more than this. He was not merely a passive, but an active friend. He formed one of that band of energetic men, who, like pioneers, precede the host. The track they made is now well marked, and travelling deputations find no difficulty. But it was not always thus. Valleys had to be exalted, and mountains brought low, crooked places to be 1811—24.] ST. John's. 185 made straight, and rough places smooth. To introduce the cause of missions in its varied ramifications, and form asso- ciations throughout the country to give it permanence, required in those days men of moral courage and deep con- viction, physical strength and intellectual power ; and it found such men in Basil Woodd, William Goode, Edward Burn, Melville Horne, James Haldane Stewart, John AYilHam Cun- ningham, and Daniel Wilson. All honour to them ! Withdrawing from his usual duties at St. John's during the summer months, and establishing his family at Worton, or some other country place, he held himself for a time at the service of the Bible or Church jMissionary Society ; and when the tour marked out for him was finished, he joined his family and enjoyed his rest. Many letters remain, written to his wife during his absence, containing an account of his missionary tours. Considerable e:?^racts may advantageously be made from these. They are interesting in themselves, and charac- teristic of the writer at this period of his hfe. The earliest record is in the year 1813, when he appears to have gone to Oxford to assist in forming a Bible Association for the county. ' June 9, 1813. ' The private preliminary meeting was very well attended, and all the business was done which we could have expected. No doubt we shall have a good meeting. We have the Duke of Marlborough as patron, and about twenty-nine presidents from the nobility and gentry of the county. What success we may have with the University remains to be seen. We are waiting for the answer of the Dean of Christ- Church, in the hope of succeeding with other heads of houses, if he should be favourably inclined. We have astonishing difficulties to meet with amongst the University men. I fully intended to leave Oxford on Friday, but I find so much is to be done, that I must stay as long as I possibly can. I hope God will graciously appear for us and bless us.' Later in the autumn of the same year he visited Norfolk, in company with the Rev. J. Pratt and the Rev. H. Tac}^ on behalf of the Church Missionary Society. The kind invitation 186 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOX. [chap. IX. of friends drew him aside for a few days to the pleasant water- ing-place of Cromer : and it is a sight so rare and so refreshing to see him in perfect relaxation, even for a single da}^, that the account by his own pen shall be given at length : — ' CiioMER, October 8, 1813. ' On Monday Mr. Hanldnson would make me dine v/ith him to meet a neighbouring clergyman. In the morning I took a charming walk upon the cliffs with Goldsmith in my hand. The chffs in general are not higher, perhaps, than seventy or eighty feet, but there is one about two miles from Cromer which is fully three hundred feet. This I ascended, and enjoyed one of the most charming sea-prospects I ever remember. The day was beautiful beyond expression, the coast covered almost with ships of ever}^ size, the waves gently heaving and mur- muring around, and all nature seemed to harmonise in one song of joy and praise. Oh! that our hearts might be filled mth love and admiration at the glory and grace of God. Oh ! that we may be led by the faint glimpses of majesty and mercy w^hich appear on the face of nature, to the full effulgence of both as they shine in the face of Jesus Christ. I met with some sweet lines of Goldsmith's, on the vanity of worldly pleasures, which I will give you ; not as bearing at all on what I happen to be writing about, but as having occurred to me on the day which I am describing : * ' To uie more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art ; Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play. The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway ; Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Unenvy'd, unmolested, unconfined. But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade. With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd, In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain. The toiling 'pleasure sickens into pain : And e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy, The heart distrusting asks, if this he joy ' The lines I have marked are particularly beautiful, and the last is one of the most affecting I ever read. * But Goldsmith is not my only companion here. I have Milton and Cowper, besides a volume of selections. I have not read so much poetry for seven years. 1811—24.] ST. John's. 187 'We dined at 4*30. The clerg3"man is a very worthy pious man, bred and born in Norfolk, and as single-minded, unaffected, homesx)un as ever I saw a good man in my life. I am very much afraid that the young men in this county are taking that wild inconsiderate sort of ground which greatly tends to dishonour the Gospel, and injure its effect. One of them is the greatest puppy I ever heard of : a rose in his three- cornered hat, long locks of haii", short cassock, no prepara- tion for the pulpit, a great extempore preacher, a Hebrew critic (alias dawdler), and the introducer of Hutcliinsonianism into the county. May God preserve our young men from this sad, idle, prating, foolish state of mind! ' The largest land-owner is Mr. Coke of Holkham. He possesses sixty thousand acres. Most of the farmers, indeed, are like country gentlemen, with ornamental grounds, handsome houses, well educated families, and never sitting down to dinner without some " Norfolk dmnplings ! " We had them at Mr. Brereton's. They tasted to me very much like our dough dumplings. ' Wet as it was yesterday, I was not the least dull, and scarcely put out of my way, except that I could not bathe, nor take my usual walk. This morning the sun shines beauti- fully on the earth. I ran down to the beach to bathe, but really the surf was so high and the waves so boisterous, that I came back and left the ladies to bathe alone — for in this village all bathe together. One man only and one horse supply us all. The machines are about six in number. So far is this custom carried, that several young ladies are capital swimmers, and display their skill for the amusement of those who happen to be looking on. ' I go to Norwich to-morrow, and return on Monday. The account of his visit to Norwich follows : — ' October 11, 1813. ' Yesterday I have reason to bless God for a profitable and delightful day. Mr. Pratt preached twice on Sunday, October 3rd, and the concourse to hear him was such that people w^ere actually hanging at the windows to catch what they could of his sermons. 188 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. * Yesterday, strange to say, the clergyman of the largest and most fashionable church in Norwich offered me his pulpit. It is one of the most beautiful and magnificent churches I ever saw. It was not crowded. There might be fifteen hundred people, which was three times the usual congregation. But it consisted, I understand, of all the principal families in Norwich — mayors, old and new ; mayors' wives, aldermen, members of Parliament, merchants, lawyers, gentlemen, &c. I preached from Kevelation, xvi. 9. " They repented not to give him glory." I was heard with the deepest attention. I preached thirty-five minutes. The first effect I heard of as following, through God's blessing, was, that one of the members for the city (C. Hervey, Esq.), a man of great influence, and one who had warmly opposed our society as being conducted by Calvinists, has consented to become a vice-president, and acknowledged that he was wholly mistaken on the subject. *In the afternoon I preached at St. Laurence's, a small church in comparison. Here the whole city seemed to have come together to hear what new doctrine this was. People pressed to church half-an-hour before service began. I imagine there must have been one thousand people. You might have walked on their heads, and what more surprised me was, that the same persons who had been at St. Peter's in the morning, flocked again in the afternoon. I am informed that all the most w^ealthy and influential persons w^ere present. My text was Psalm cxxx. 4. " But there is forgiveness with thee that thou mayest be feared." In both discourses, I endeavoured to declare " the whole counsel of God," especially insisting on the deity, atonement and grace of our redeemer Jesus Christ, endeavouring to be as correct as I could in my language, and as little vehement as possible. I quite stand amazed at what God hath wTought. Why did not we return disappointed ? Who gave us favour in the eyes of forty thousand strangers ? Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name be praise." The subscriptions now amount to 900Z.' In the year 1814, he was again engaged in the service of the same Society, and in company with Mr. Pratt and 1811—24.] ST. John's. 189 Mr. Jowett, visited Coventry and Birmingham, and crossed to Ireland. From Dublin he writes : — 'June 15, 1814. ' We are labouring with all our might to promote the great object of our coming. We find some things to encourage, and some to impede our efforts, but I doubt not we shall be able to form a grand Society. We have already several noblemen who, we expect, will patronise our design. We are to preach in different churches next Sunday. We had only one sermon each to preach last Sunday, as we find the clergy uncommonly difficult to manage. The people are a fine, noble, generous, ardent race, full of spirit and fire, and as easily led wrong as right. They are hospitab.le to an excess. Our waiter blunders most ludicrously. Mr. Pratt told him the other night that he should lock his door, and that he did not wish to be disturbed in the morning. " Oh," says the waiter, " then you will call yourself in the morning." When we called on Lady Lifford, the maid told us her ladyship was out, but that she would be soon in, " for she will come home," said the girl, " at twelve o'clock, and it is now a quarter past ! " ' Our presence here was indispensable. Without us no Society would have been formed : whereas now in a few years Ireland will be covered with Societies.' He went on by himself to Armagh, and writes as follows : — ' June 24, 1814. ' One line to assure you of my safe arrival at Lord Lifford's. I came here last night from Dublin, and I shall be actively engaged in preaching and establishing an association in this metropolitan city till Monday, when I return to Dubhn to embark in the packet for England. The earth contains not, I think, a more beautiful spot than this mansion where I am now writing. It is situated on an eminence, and commands on every side the most extensive prospects you can imagine. The kindness of Lord and Lady Lifford is equal to the warmest hopes I could have formed, and I doubt not a good association 190 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOX. [chap. IX. will be established. We had a magnificent meeting at Dublin — interesting beyond all description.' He sums up the result of the Irish tour as follows : — ' Our journey has been wonderfully prospered. A noble Auxiliary Society and Association was formed at Dublin : amount raised 1200?. ; and my Association at Armagh has four or five noblemen at its head, and twenty-four clerical subscribers.' In the 3'ear 1815, he visited Bristol, Manchester, and Stafford- shire, on behalf of the Society, in company with Mr. Pratt (the secretary), Mr. Burn, and Mr. Jowett. Short extracts from his letters will here sufiice to give an idea of the result. ' We had a noble meeting at Bristol from eleven o'clock to four. Collection, 67?. Excellent speeches. * At Manchester we have preached two sermons each, and to- day we have our meeting at two o'clock. * I have just returned from one of the most interesting meetings I ever witnessed. The room crowded to excess. It lasted three hours. ' I preached our last Manchester sermon at St. James'. We had two thousand people. ' The result of our whole journey, including Bristol, Man- chester, and Staffordshire, Mr. Pratt estimates at 2000/. I really think myself it may amount to 1500Z. I do think, God gave us the hearts of the people in a remarkable manner.' A still more extensive tour of the same kind, and with the same companions, was undertaken in 1816. It now included North Wales. * I write to you still in French,' he says, ' because it is well for us both to accustom ourselves to the language. * We quitted Manchester by coach at two o'clock, and amved at Liverpool at seven. We are received at Mr. Bickersteth's. There are one hundred thousand souls and twenty-two churches, 1811—24.] ST. John's. 191 many supplied by excellent young men. I am to preach twice, and Mr. Pratt three times. ' I preached at Everton Church in the morning, as arranged. Collection 49?. I was then taken by Mr. Jones to Seaforth, about five miles from Liverpool. Mr. Gladstone, one of the first Liverpool merchants, lives there dming the summer with his wife and famil}-. There I preached from 1 Peter ii. 9, and collected 28/. After tea the carriage took us to Liverpool, and Mr. Pratt preached at St. Andrew's an excellent discourse for an hour and ten minutes. Mr. Gladstone took us home. I was not at all fatigued. We supped at ten, and sat up singing hymns till eleven. We did not get large collections. The thing is not yet understood here. Men must know the joyful sound — the jo}^ of grace — the doctrine of salvation — before they obey the law of Chris^an liberality. 'About August 10th, I hope to return and be quiet. I should like far better to remain always with you and never part, but the work of Christ our Saviour calls us sometimes to separate for a while. It is a duty to help on the cause of religion, and do something for that God who does so much for us. * We have formed a magnificent association in North Wales. All is in train, and a good feeling prevails. Many seem earnestly desirous of advancing the good work. ' The first time I preached in Wales was at Tremeirchion. We began at seven o'clock. Three hundred people were present. When they began to read the prayers in Welsh, I was taken by surprise. I could not understand a word. I preached in English. No one could understand me, of course, but those who knew English. I was struck with astonishment. Half the congregation sat still without knowing a word I was saying.' In the month of June, 1817, he accompanied Dr. Steinkopff into Buckinghamshire and Northamptonshire, on behalf of the British and Foreign Bible Society. He writes from Buckingham very characteristically : — '/?;72e 18, 1817. ' Our friend Steinkopff is an angel. We have had during our journey much sweet and spmtual intercourse, and when 192 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. night covered us with its dark shadows, we shut the windows of the coach, and Dr. Steinkopff hegan to pray to God aloud for us, for the Bible Society, for the Church, and for the world. The meeting at Buckingham was ver}'- numerous, and the Spirit of our God and Saviour seemed to fill every heart with a soft and holy influence. One hundred persons afterwards met at dinner very pleasantly; and when it was over we had much profitable and pious discourse, and then I went and preached at Gawcott, about a mile from Buckingham. My text ^was 2 Tim. iii. 15. The church was crammed.' In November of the same year he paid a similar visit to Cambridge, where he collected S7L, and records with great delight his intercourse with the Dean of Carlisle (Dr. Milner), Professor Farish, Mr. Simeon, Mr. Mandell, Mrs. Dornford and others. In the year 1818 he visited Yorkshire, and writes from Halifax as follows : — ' This town is situated in a most romantic and beautiful spot. It lies at the base of immense hills. Mr. Knight, the vicar, has a charming parsonage. He was inducted last February on the presentation of the Crown, and has thirteen chapelries under him.' He passed on to Huddersfield, and writes from thence : — ' October 12, 1818. 'I attended the meeting here at two o'clock. There are 40,000 souls in the district. A lady at breakfast this morning has given me 50Z. as a donation. At three o'clock I set off for Casterton, then to Leeds, and then to Pontefract. From Casterton he writes on the 14th : — ' This is the first quiet day I have had since I left home. I travelled eighty-four miles on Saturday, one hundred and ninety-four miles on Monday and Tuesdaj^ eighteen on Thursday, twenty on Friday, twenty on Sunday to and from 1811—24.] ST. John's. 193 the churches, sevent}-- eight on Monday, and I shall have to go seventy-eight on Thursday, one hundred and ninety- eight on Friday and Saturday, and seventy-three on Monday or Tuesday, making in all full seven hundred and sixty miles hefore I see you again at Worton. 'I am delighted with this pious family; and the scenery before me is quite enchanting. I have just discovered a new beauty in the prospect out of my window. The sun is shining on the vallej^ and I discern two or three bright spots where the river is visible in the distant landscape on my left. The contrast between these glimpses of water and the thick foliage around is very beautiful : whilst the vast and obscure sides of the mountains beyond, form a fm'ther variety and a noble background. Thus, methinks, in the vale of this world, there also is a river, " the streams whereof make glad the city of God : " beyond which the eternal mountains stretch themselves in interminable extent. May the "river" brighten the scenes we pass through, till our feet tread on those " everlasting hills," and we hunger no more, neither thirst any more for ever. * Oh ! may the refreshment of soul I have found in this journey, dispose me to greater diligence, devotedness, and humihty, in the regular duties of the approaching winter. The consequences of every sermon quite alarm my mind. Wherever I go, I find I am amongst my hearers. The squire of the next parish, W. C. Wilson, sat in my middle aisle at St. John's, amongst the poor, all last spring.' In the year 1819, he again visited the North, and wrote from Leeds to his two sons at Worton. The details of this letter are somewhat personal ; but it will be remembered that we are writing, not the history of missions, but the life of Daniel W^ilson, and that the insertion of everything characteristic is desirable. ' JuJy 14, 1819. ' I am now more than two hundred miles from London, and as I shall be returning towards home to-morrow, I think of writing to you instead of j'our dear mamma. ' When I wrote on Monday, it was just after our meeting. As VOL. I. o 194 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [CUAP. IX. soon as dinner was over, I went to see the cloth manufacture of Leeds. I saw the famous carding-machine for bringing the rough wool down to a proper fineness, and throwing it and making it ready for weaving. I saw also weavers ^vea^ing cloth sixty-three inches wide. Then we examined the milling- machine for thickening the cloth after it is woven, and the cropping-machine for cropping or picking off the roughnesses from the cloth. All these machines are worked by one steam engine. The master, Isaac Hirst, is the first man in the world in this way, and has beaten a hundred manufacturers of different nations upon a competition. He has just made a blue coat for the Prince Eegent, the finest ever manufactured, which cost 7 1. 10s. a 3'ard, and the wool of which was picked out by parcels from wool of the value of 10,000?. The Prince has sent him a handsome letter of thanks, and made him his own manufacturer. This Mr. Hirst, five years ago, was a common workman. So you see what industry and God's blessing can do in such a country as England. * At six o'clock we had Mr. Hey's social meeting of about thirty friends, and I expounded and prayed with them, and then set off for Harewood on our way to this place, Knares- borough. ' We stopped an hour at Harrogate with Mr. Lutwidge of Hull, and read and prayed with his large family. * At four o'clock we arrived at the Eev. Mr. Cheap's, who is one of the kindest and most pious men I ever saw. He has a parish of seven thousand souls. Mrs. Cheap is sister to the Rev. H. Fisher, now a chaplain in India. We sat down to dinner; and amongst other things there was a "missionary pie," sent to Mr. Cheap's for us from a distance of twenty-five miles. It was an immense size, with raised crust an inch thick, and contained several ducks and fowls, a tongue, mutton, and many other things. ' After dinner we had our missionary meeting in Mr. Cheap's garden, covered vnth. an awning stretched against the house on two sides, and supported on poles in the middle and corners. The ground was laid with mats. There were benches to sit on, and a platform at the end. I never was at such an interesting meeting. There were eight hundred persons present, at least, 1811—24.] ST. John's. 195 and a Sunday School of little girls, who closed the meeting by singing most sweetly. I was quite charmed.' His tours were not always thus pleasant. He writes in the year 1820, from Liverpool, whither he had gone in company with the Eev. John W. Cunningham, on a missionary tour : — * I had a most fatiguing day yesterday, aggravated by the excessive rain. The anniversary of the Church Missionary Association at Chester was very interesting. They actually raised during the eight months since their formation 503/., which, considering the opposition of the bishop, and the neutrality of the clergy, is quite astonishing. The meeting was over at 3'30. We dined in a pretty large party, and before we had fairly swallowed oijr hasty meal, w^e w^ere hurried off to church. Two churches were opened to Mr. Cunningham and myself in the very heart of Chester ; and for the first time three or four aldermen were present when I preached, and a great crowd of respectable inhabitants, to hear the new doctrine. I took my favourite old sermon on Isaiah, Ix. 1. The deepest attention prevailed, and I am told, the greatest astonishment as well as approbation was almost universally felt. May God bless the attempt ! ' The rain fell in heavy showers as w^e walked from church to the friend's house, where the chaise was to come to take us to Liverpool. At seven o'clock we set off, and reached the river Mersey at 9*30, the rain still coming down in torrents. Amidst the darkness and confusion, we found a steamboat about to cross to Liverpool. We went aboard, our feet dripping with wet, and having seated ourselves in the cabin, continued there till a drunken party of Liverpool tradesmen rushed in with oaths and clamour. Mr. Cunningham began to reprove the first man for swearing. This made them worse ; and we were obliged to leave the cabin, and stand exposed on the deck to the inclemency of the night and the weather till we reached the port. We had then a mile and a half to walk through the drowned streets and in the darkness to the coach-stand, and did not reach our home till eleven o'clock. 'I am marvellously limp and weary this morning. But a 0 2 196 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. good cause, kind friends, and every accommodation imaginable, will soon recruit me. When I return, I shall have travelled four hundred and twenty miles, attended four public meetings, preached two sermons, and lost two nights, all in six days, with my full Sunday duty at each end of them.' In the month of August, 1822, he joined the Eev. Mr. Tacy and another friend, on a visit to the south of England and the Channel Islands : and this seems to have been nearly his last official tour on behalf of the Church Missionary Society. His health had already failed, new duties called, and other men entered into his labours. His account is dated October 14tli, 1822. * I left London on Monday, August 5th, and reached Exeter on the Friday, where our friends the Cornish's received us most hospitably. I preached there twice on the Sunday, and was present at the missionary meeting. * On Friday, August 14th, I embarked at Weymouth for the Channel Islands. Twenty-four hours of calm, and then of contrary winds and tempest (throughout which I felt as if I should die from sea-sickness) brought me to Guernsey. It is a delightful island, thirty thousand souls, Normandy customs, beautiful scenery, soft mild climate, delicious fruits ; the novelty of everything charmed and fascinated me. I was never more struck. In addition to all this, I was greatly touched by the kindness and friendship of Mr. Brock. I preached in French for the first time in my life. Imagine my embarrassment on mounting the pulpit, and seeing before me a vast array of a thousand listeners, understanding nothing but French. I managed to be understood. I believe the warmth of my heart opened my way, for it seemed to me that the more interested they were in the subject, the more they listened. There is one universal language which religion purifies and strengthens — the love of Christ, contrition of heart, faith in the redemption of the Cross — this attracts the soul of man, and is conveyed better by feeling than by words. * I went from Guernsey to Jersey, and there had another sermon in French, and before an audience far '^^ore diffi jult to 1811—24. ST. John's. 197 please. I succeeded, however, iu keeping up their attention. They listened with interest. God grant, that it may be to their profit ! * Whilst staying quietly at Jersey, the proposal was made for me to cross to France, the northern coast of which is not distant. I did not hesitate, knowing how uncertain another opportunity might be.' Accordingly he crossed to Granville in Normandy, and pushing on through Coutance, Saint Loo, Caen, and Rouen, reached Paris on the 3rd September. He described the Paris of that day, and stayed a week. * I preached,' he says, ' tftvice on the Sunday — first in English at the Oratoire, and then in French, at Mr. Wilder's house. I also attended five meetings of different religious societies. It gave me peculiar pleasure to witness the beginning of such institutions. Feeble they must be, but full of hope. They are to carry light into the midst of the thick darkness, both of infidelity and superstition, which rests on all. Nothing can bring back these vivacious and irritated people to peace and religious feelings if these Societies do not. ' I left Paris with sincere regret, having begun only to taste the delight attaching to these moral and religious Societies. Farewell.' It is an interesting fact, that at one of the meetings thus referred to, and which was for the Paris Bible Society, Mr. "Wilson's speech in English was delivered to the audience in French by the celebrated M. Guizot. It created a great sensation at the time ; for the speech was full of devout, spiritual, and evangelical thoughts and feelings; and it was not supposed that M. Guizot was at that time prepared to sjm- pathise with them. This visit to Paris was not without its influence upon Daniel Wilson's plans in after-life : and his trip to Guernsey was never forgotten. Twenty-seven years after, he writes to the Rev. Mr. Brock, in answer to his inquiries on that point : — 198 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. 'April 30, 1849. * Forget you and Guernsey ? No, no. There are few places of which I have a more lively remembrance than your dear aboriginal island, your beautiful fruit, and your own hospitable abode. I remember also the terrible voyage I had to make, and how nearly we were lost off the " Caskets." My visit to Granville is fresh also in my recollection. Nor do I forget my miserable French sermon, and the mispronunciation of "cour" for " coeur." Well, many years have passed since, and I was truly rejoiced to see your handwriting, and to receive as I have, youi' young friend De Vic Carey. With him I have chatted over all the history of Guernsey, all your churches, and all yom^ affaks.' Before leaving this part of Daniel Wilson's life, a few incidents connected with his tours may properly be introduced as illustrative of his character. The first has been already well told by the Rev. J. W. Cunningham, his old and much beloved friend, in the pages of the " Christian Observer." Circumstances brought the friends together, on a missionary excursion, at a dinner table, where the provision was most luxurious and costly, and where a company was assembled quite foreign to the character of the deputation and their immediate object. In due course, the host arose, and in a sort of uproarious manner called upon the company to drink " Health to the Deputation." The whole spirit of the diimer was offensive to devout minds, and the question was how to change it. Others sat still, but Daniel Wilson rose up, and said, " I believe it is customary when any one's health is drunk, to return thanks ; and this I do most cordially : and most affectionately do I wish you, sir, in return, and this company good health. But then" (he added in that deep tone into which his voice naturally fell when he was strongly moved) " you will, perhaps, allow me to tell you in what I conceive * Good Health ' really to consist." And then he proceeded to speak of the health of the soul in language so solemn and affecting, that every one at the table felt the power of truth thus announced, and the whole character of the assembly was at once changed and solemnised. And yet all this was said 1811—24.] ST. John's. 199 and done with such exquisite good humour and kindness, that not a single person was offended; but all manifested their gratitude to him in expressions of respect, almost amounting to affection. An incident of a somewhat similar character occurred at Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton's house in town. A large party of clergy and laity, attracted by the May meetings, had been invited to his hospitable board. All were of one mind, and all desirous of mutual edification, but the evening was passing away and the conversation was still desultory and broken. Suddenly a loud voice was heard from the top of the table addressing one seated near the bottom. It was Daniel Wilson speaking to Dr. Marsh. ^'William Marsh," he said, "may I ask you a question ? You have had some experience in dealing Avith criminals lying under sentence of execution : is there any one portion of Scripture that you. have found more efficacious than another in bringing them to conviction of sin and true repentance ? But " — checking himself and referring to Mrs. Fry, who was sitting beside him — "perhaps I ought rather to put the question to my neighbour. May I, dear madam, ask whether any particular passage of Scripture occurs to you as having proved most useful to that class of our feUow- sinners?" " I can have no hesitation in answering thy question," replied Mrs. Fry ; " one passage I have found far more effectual than any others ; and the simple reading of it has often proved most useful. I refer to the latter part of the seventh chapter of Luke's gospel. It has softened many hearts, and made eyes weep that never wept before." "The seventh chapter of St. Luke!" said Daniel Wilson. " The latter part ! Let us examine it. How glad I am that I asked you." Then taking a little Testament from his pocket, he began to read the passage. This led to a comment on it, to enquiries from others, and to general conversation : narra- tives flowed from Mrs. Fry, and illustrations of various kinds from others, so that all were pleased, instructed, and edified. The formation of the Bible Association at Oxford, was a 200 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. difficult and delicate matter, in which he showed much tact. At a kind of preliminary meeting" of many of the autho- rities of the University he was present, endeavouring to remove objections and to win assent. The weather was oppressive, and Daniel Wilson approached one of the Heads of houses, who was present not as an approver but a listener, with cake and wine. This gave occasion for conversation, and a hope was expressed that he would patronise the Society and take part in the meeting. An immediate refusal was given, and strong objections urged : — the Society, it was said, would increase the influence of dissent, and tend so far to the injury of the Church. "Exactly so;" replied Daniel Wilson, *'this will be the result, if the work is left in the hands of the dissenters ; and therefore. Doctor, how important it is that men of weight and influence in the Church should come forward and take the lead." Other arguments were added, and prevailed : and thus by his tact and good temper, he gained his point, and the Doctor became an office-bearer in the Society, and made a speech at the meeting. Again, when the "Lord's Day Observance Society" was to be formed, and a preliminary meeting was being held, the good result was very much owing to his forbearance and influence. Many were assembled who, agreeing in the general object, difi'ered upon the subject of tests of membership. It was strongly urged that some test should be adopted ere the Society was formed, and the majority of those present seemed to lean that way. Had the attempt succeeded, the original proposers of the Society would have been compelled to withdraw, and the whole scheme would have failed. Before the meeting came to a division, however, he rose and proposed an adjournment for further consideration and for prayer. This saved the Society. At the next meeting, the more vehement advocates of a party test did not attend, and it was agreed that the expression of the fundamental object of the Society would be sufficient: viz., that it was formed to maintain the "divine authority and perpetual obligation of the Lord's day." Thus a commence- ISll— 24.] ST. John's. 201 ment was made, and a most excellent Society established, which continues unto this day. Two or three more incidents may be added, as illustrating his habit and mode of prayer : — A friend (the Rev. Thomas Harding, now vicar of Bexley), accompanied him to Brighton on behalf of one of the rehgious Societies. Two large meetings had been attended ; and the evening having been closed by an address to a circle of friends at Sir Thomas Blomefield's, and by prayer, they entered the coach together on their return to town. There were no other passengers. The moment the}' had faii'ly started, Daniel Wil- son, drawing up the window, said, " Now, my dear friend, we must have our evening prayers together ere we sleep." He then in a few outspoken yords commended his friend, himself, and those whom they had just left, to the Divine jn'otection : and his petitions ended, he settled himself into his corner, and fell fast asleep. Once on a visit at a friend's house he was requested to officiate at morning prayers with the family, but to be very short, because of some pressing engagement. On the servants being seated, he said, "I am requested to be very short to-day : I will therefore give you Christianity in a nutshell. Our heavenly Father said of our blessed Eedeemer, * Thou art my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.' Any soul that can say of that Redeemer, ' Thou art my beloved Saviour in whom I am well pleased' is a real Christian. Now, letus pray." The last trait of character to be mentioned is related by Dr. Marsh, and is very short and simple. He sometimes travelled on behalf of these Societies with Daniel Wilson, and on arriving at their inn, they were frequently compelled to share a double- bedded room. On such occasions Dr. Marsh records the fact that the last sight which met his eyes at night, and the first sight in the morning, was always Daniel Wilson on his knees. It has been already stated that much of his time during his Ministry at St. John's was taken up by correspondence, but no specimens of it have been given, save such as were necessary to carry on the narrative. He commonly wrote short, hast}^ 202 THE LIFE OF DAKIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. pithy letters, like a busy man. But it was not always thus. When his advice was seriously sought, it was seriously given ; and when affliction pressed, his sympathy and counsel were always ready. Many valuable letters were thus written to a lady of high rank, who felt "the warmest affection for him, and the deepest reverence for his character ; " many also to Mrs. Hannah More, to Mrs. Foljambe, to his sister, and others. They are all dated from 1811 to 1824, the period on which the attention of the reader is still fixed; and they express his opinions on various matters of deep impor- tance in the divine life. These opinions will, for the sake of brevity, be extracted from the letters, and placed under their different heads. ON PRAYER. ' The efficacy of this great duty, or rather blessing, of the Christian profession, rests on the mediation of our divine Lord. All prayer is acceptable, presented Avith simplicity in the name of Jesus Christ. The various differences of attainment, though of importance in other respects, are of none in this. We all stand so completely condemned before the holy law of God, that at His throne of propitiation, the very feeblest is as welcome as the most strong and advanced suppliant. In short, no one can know himself without discovering that he is nothing, that he deserves nothing, and that he can ask for nothing in himself. But, Adorable Grace ! he may, he ought, he must implore with humble confidence all he needs, in the meritorious name, and through the intercession of the Son of God. What is that cross, that passion, those tears, those agonies of our divine Lord, if they are not the foundation of our pardon and our prayers, the spring of our peace and our expectations, the argument of our desires and our acceptance ? I am persuaded that you will discover more of the harmony of these, and of other Christian doctrines, as you advance in the humble study of your Bible and the experience of its blessings.' 1811—24.] ST. John's. 203 ENCOURAGEMENT. * Christiaiiity proposes such a weight of excellence to us, that a whole life is little to reach after it. And yet it stoops to our infirmities with such exuberant kindness, that even a sigh is heard, and the first incipient desire of salvation listened to and fulfilled.' CAUTION. ' " Festina lente " — hasten slowly — is, in a proper sense, the Christian's motto. There is nothing valuable to be done in a hurry ; and, above all, nothing in religion. The most ardent and sanguine temperaments have as much to learn on the one hand, as the most dull and phlegmatic have on the other.' THE UNION OF REPENTANCE AND FAITH. ' Both must be co-existent, in some measure, when they are genuine. Indeed, before we can repent, we must credit the report of the Gospel as to our ruined condition, as to the holiness of the law, the threatened punishment due to trans- gression, and the nature of a return to God. But, still as faith pre-eminently means a belief in those parts of Holy Scripture which reveal the person, work, and sacrifice of the eternal Son of God, and is thus the instrument of our pardon and justification, repentance is ordinarily represented as pre- paring for it. Thus : " testifying repentance towards God, and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ." "Kepent ye and believe the Gospel." The two, however, are the effect of the same Divine teaching, are inseparable throughout our Christian course, and mutually aid and produce each other. The more deeply I repent, the better am I prepared to welcome the glad tidings of a Saviour ; and the more affectionately and humbty I believe these tidings, the more is my heart broken on account of sin. " They shall look unto Him whom they have pierced, and mourn." * 204 THE LIFE or DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. ON CONFESSION. * Certainly there can be no harm in a confidential disclosure of your i^ligious difficulties to a minister of God, whose age and circumstances make it unexceptionable. On the contrary, we find from the example of the Apostles that the cares, and anxieties, and most minute embarrassments of the early Christians were exposed to them, and relieved with a paternal tenderness. The Epistles abound with communications of this nature.' THE BIBLE. * The Bible is the most brief, and yet the most full of all books. It enters into our cases ; and like an exquisite portrait, seems to look full in the face of each beholder. The astonish- ing sacrifice on the Cross : there is our object of hojDe, our refuge from guilt, our source of mercy and acceptance. The sanctifying Spirit of grace : there is the author of holiness, the teacher of wisdom, the comforter under trouble. The two united : faith in a vicarious propitiation, and reliance on an almighty sanctifier, are the spring of our duties, and the foundation of our hopes.' FRAMES AND FEELINGS. ' Our frames and feelings will vary. They depend on health, vigour, natural spirits, and much of the lower part of our habit and constitution. We must not, therefore, look too much to them. The standard of character is the bent of the higher and nobler faculties of the soul, the understanding and the will, the governing and fixed habits of our affections, the sincerity of our choice of God, the growing conformity of our tempers to the example of Christ, the uprightness, consistency, and wisdom of our conduct in the relations of life: all connected with a deep sense of utter unworthiness, and an exclusive and afi'ectionate reliance on the merits of Christ by whom, and on the spirit of Christ through whom, we have access to the Father.' 1811—24.] ST. John's. 205 THE ORTHODOX AND EVANGELICAL CLERGY. ' There are two classes of divines in our Protestant Eeformed Church of England. The one call themselves "Orthodox;'' the other are known by the term " Evangelical." The question is, Which of these is right ? Which agrees most nearly with the plain language of our articles, homilies, and liturgy ? Which approaches nearest to the Holy Scriptures ? Which affects the heart and reforms the manners of men most effectually ? Which live most above worldly considerations and pursuits ? Which die with most peace ? Which meet the sufferings that bring on death with most patience and meek- ness ? Which lay the best ground for tranquillity of con- science before God, and for obedience to all laws human and divine before men ? In a word, Which bring forth the best fruits ? * Now, to ascertain this momentous point, it is clearly neces- sary to understand what constitutes the proper characteristics of the two classes. They both agree in the fundamental tenets of the unity of the Godhead, the mystery of the Trinity, the divinity and atonement of the Saviour, the person and deity of the Holy Ghost, the immortality of the soul, and the future judgment. They both agree in admitting the inspiration of the Holy Scriptures, and the authority and purity of our national Church. * Where then is the essential difference ? In the use and application of what they believe. The pious and devout Churchman feels himself a miserable lost sinner ; feels his only hope to be in the meritorious Cross of the Lord Jesus ; feels himself in need of the renewing and sanctifying in- fluences of the Holy Spirit ; feels the supreme value of his eternal salvation ; feels the necessity of renouncing his own moral goodness in point of merit ; feels the value of time, the nearness of death, the unutterable importance of eternity, the danger of a worldly spirit, the madness of indifference to religion, and the reasonableness of an immortal preparing for immortality. ' Now every one of these points the Orthodox Churchman, as 206 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. he would fain claim to be, allows also ; but iu the use of what he allows, he is so tame, so little really interested, so soon satis- fied, so afraid of enthusiasm and excess, so timid and reluctant, that there is often little more than the form of piety ; whilst the time, the affections, the pursuits, the heart are given to literature, or honour, or wealth, or pleasure in some form or another. To this inert and lifeless state of religious feeling and sentiment, accordingly, the plain doctrines and duties of the Bible and of the Church are first insensibly lowered down, and then imperceptibly explained away ; and thus a worldly religion takes the place of a spiritual one. Compare the sermons of modern divines with those of the Eeformation, or their lives and standards of sentiment, and the case will speak for itself. Would the present race of ordinary clergy have written our thirt3^-nine articles ? Certainly not. ' Then look to the lives of the two classes of men — their labours, their parishes, their families, the effect of their ministry in the actual turning of men from vice, folly, and perdition, to God and goodness. The worldly clergyman, however respect- able in general society, scarcely aims at converting the soul of a sinner. Nothing can lay a foundation of morals and loyalty, but the fear of God and the power of conscience. And when once the conscience of any one is awakened to his real obligations to God, what doctrine can suit his case, but the doctrine of a crucified Saviour ! The truths which he before opposed, he now flies to as his refuge and consolation. And from the faith of that Saviour springs every good word and work.' ON THE DEATH OF EELATIVES UNPREPARED. * My general advice is this. Before the stroke of death has fallen, use all possible means for instructing, directing, saving the sinner. After it has fallen, be silent before God. Whilst the will of God is to us unknown, we may and should labour and pray, and hope, and wait, and never cease our efforts for the conversion even of the most obdurate. But when once that will is certain by the event, other duties are called for — submission, patience, humiliation. I would have used all the i 1811—24.] ST. John's. 207 means in my power with Cain, Pliaraoh, Aliitophel, Saul, Balaam, and even Judas. But when once God has declared His will in the punishment of these obdurate sinners, whether by the miraculous infliction of death, or by the ordinary course of nature, only leaving them to their own madness in destroying their own lives — what then is our duty ? Surely to say, like Eli when his sons perished, " It is the Lord ; " or like David, " Let him curse, because the Lord hath said. Curse David ; or to be like Aaron when " he held his peace." Sin — one sin — is of a malignity so deep, and of a guilt so unspeakable, that God may most justly punish it in any way He pleases. Our only duty then is, unqualified humiliation. " Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right ? " ' I need scarcely say that suggestions like the above should be made with the greatest tenderness, and in proportion as each afflicted case may seem capable of receiving them. The first bursting out of grief should also be allowed to pass away, and the mind be propped up for a time, by general considerations of God's supreme Providence and care ; and then, afterwards, when reason and religion have resumed their seat, and faith is beginning to be exerted, we may throw in these and other important considerations.' ON CONFORMITY TO THE WORLD. ' I cannot wonder at the difference of judgment expressed by your Grace's friends on so wide and difficult a subject as the World : a subject more full of practical difficulties than almost any other. Still, if I am asked my opinion, I give it honestly. ' Firm resistance in things sinful in themselves — mild expostulation in things inconvenient — submission on the part of inferior relatives to the superior in points not in themselves unlawful — a spirit of charity and tenderness in all cases — these are the sort of maxims I have recommended in hundreds and hundreds of instances during twenty-five years. A furious heady opposition which irritates and inflames, w^hich oversteps the proprieties and duties of our age, station, and sex, I have ever discouraged. 208 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. * The application, however, of these general maxims must be left to the judgment and conscience, in the sight of God, of each individual. That many young persons may have fallen by compliances which they at first made from a principle of dut}^ is quite possible. But the cause must have been — not the yielding when duty required it — but the neglecting of the means of grace, relaxing prayer, entering into the spirit of the world, going beyond the line of duty, violating the sabbath, and such like. These ivoulcl ruin any one. The fact is, the question of the WORLD in a professedly Christian country, is very much a question of the heart. No minister can Jay down precise rules. 'I observe that the Bible confines itself chiefly to two points, " The minding of the flesh," and the " minding of the Spirit." I also observe that the duty of children to obey their parents, and wives their husbands, is most express. Nor can I omit observing such directions as these : " I became all things to all men ; " " Whatsoever things are lovely and of good report ; " " Be pitiful, be courteous ; " " The meek shall inherit the earth." The inimitable example, also, of our Lord in attending the marriage feast, and in going to be the guest of Levi, during His ministry, and His thirty years' subjection to His parents previously, have great weight with me. ' I come back, therefore, to the same points from which I started. In things per se unlawful, we must at once obey God rather than man. In things inconvenient and displeasing we may use all mild arguments, but if these fail we must obey those who have authority, under God, over us. In things indifi'erent, we are always to yield with cheerfulness and amiability. In all things we are to see that humility and charity guide every word. ' For the application of these, my general rules, prayer, the spirit of wisdom, the Bible, faith, love, joy, are the best helps. * There is, however, another point which has often occurred to me on this subject — the world within us. Evil tempers, self-will, pride, and vanity, are very apt to be neglected or indulged vhilst we declaim against the world without us. 1811—24.] ST. John's. 209 Nineteen-twentietlis of all sanctification consists in lioly tempers, which are far more difficult to acquire than anything else. The victory over the world is that holy superiority, that heavenly taste, that deadness to sensual gratifications and external ease, that temper which faith in the Son of God inspires, that spirit of prayer and love to God and heaven which lifts us above the atmosphere of this world, whilst it teaches us with meekness and self-denial to fulfil our respective duties in it, to submit our will to God's will, and to take up our Cross and follow Christ; RELIGIOUS EVENING ASSEMBLIES. ' I have been insensibly drawn in, a good deal against my own judgment, or at least/* fears, by Lady B., to take a part in her Friday evening assemblies. I very much doubt whether it is possible, as human nature is constituted, to make a party of fifty persons, either so easy as to have the appearance of a friendly coterie, or so grave as to have the character and fruits of a religious meeting. At present my office has been to speak in a middle tone, between talking and preaching, and to engage four or five clergymen who may happen to be present, to relieve me in the recitative. But this will never do. It offends the modesty of private conversation. It is too general for the enquiring, too solemn for the gay, too dry for the young, too flippant for the old ; and in the meantime some of the evils of dress, and dissipation, and displa}^ and loss of time, and late- ness of hours, must creep in, and will increase : whilst the attendant good will, I fear, rather lessen.' A MOURNFUL SCENE. ' I have had the mournful duty of committing to the tomb our dearest Mr. Wilberforce's eldest daughter, and 5^esterday paid a visit of sad sympathy to the afflicted family. She was a sweet, tender, lovel}^ and pious child ; her parents' delight and joy ; and her end was so remarkably peaceful — the anticipation of heaven so mild and yet radiant, her trust in the care of her Saviour so child-like, and her triumph over the fear of death so truly cheering, that the loss of such a daughter VOL. I. P 210 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOX. [chap. IX. was less painful than the health or continuance in life of a disobedient son, or of any one, in fact, less decided in prepara- tion for another world. ' The scene at the funeral in Stoke Newington was very- affecting. The kind uncle, Mr. Stephen; the two brothers, William and Robert; the venerable Mr. Grant; Sir R. H. Inglis, and some others, combined, as it were, all the ages and functions of life around the tomb of the young sufferer, and bade us look down into the cavern which is to engulph us all — and how soon none can tell. Blessed be that name which is above every name ! There is One, who has gone down to the gloomy abode before us, and has made death the gate of life, and the grave the margin of immortality.' STATE OF THE CHURCH IN 1821. . 'A more lively impression of the importance of Christi- anity, is I think, evidently left on the minds of the great from the sad disorders which have recently taken place. The character of the clergy is still rising. The great religious institutions are assuming a new importance, by becoming the means of uniting the Church in prayer for the effusion of the Holy Spirit. In London, as in Bristol, zealous efforts are making to excite regard to the subject. The antinomian abomination has spent itself, or been forced back into its ordinary ambushes. I add to these signs for good, the Bristol, Elland, Creaton, and London Societies for educating young men for the ministry of the Church.' ON IRRELIGIOUS RELATIVES. ' Your grief is a poignant one — but it is not altogether a despairing one. The same grace which has taught and quickened your own heart, may through your means reach his. And the very acuteness of your present sorrow, may serve to redouble those importunate prayers, and that wise yet un- remitted course of efforts which you are using on his behalf. In the meantime, the consolation of St. Paul in 1 Timothy i. 15, may be yours, changing only the circumstances. Your duty 1811—24.] ST. John's. 211 seems to be penitence, prayer, effort, and resignation : for God doth -vN'hat He will in the dispensations both of His providence and grace. He is Sovereign in everj' sense of the expression. But He is also a Father, a Saviour, a Friend, a Refuge, a Rock, a Shield, a Hiding-place. Our resignation therefore is to be opposed to impatience and murmuring ; not to hope, expectation, and the humble joy of faith.' ON DEFECTIVE MEANS OF GRACE. ' Trul}^ am I sorry at the state of deprivation as to spiritual instruction of which joii complain. But, if on the whole we are in the way of duty, we may humbly rely still on the word of promise, on the power of God, on the efficacy of the Scriptures, on the grace of the Saviodr and Comforter of the Church. The great business is with the heart — wayward, foolish, perverse, unbelieving, proud. If the heart be prostrate in penitence, and filled with holy faith in the divine Saviour, all will be right. ' May God, therefore, enable us to keep our hearts with all diligence, for out of them are the issues of life. ' You have the Bible, and the throne of grace, and the liturgy, and some kind and pious friends, and multitudes of good books. And God can make a diligent use of these means more bene- ficial to your soul, than a negligent use of the most abundant ones. And, Oh ! pray for your minister. AYho can tell in what manner the Lord may open a way for His word. And beware of fretting. We deserve not so infinite a blessing as a Well of Salvation." Let us ask then with importunity, but with submission and a sense of unworthiness. Let us not mistake impatience and self-will for zeal and holy love. If God were to send you a good minister, but not a wise, holy, sound-thinking one, perhaps you would soon begin again to complain. So wait, expect, pray : and when the man comes, he will come in the fulness of the blessing of the Gospel of Christ. We must not prescribe to God, even in what we think will promote His glory.' p 2 212 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. ox FAITH. * Faith is the link between ourselves, and an unseen world, an unseen Saviour, an unseen glory. Faith receives the atonement, faith is accounted for righteousness, faith purifies the heart, faith appropriates the promises, faith overcomes the w^orld, works by love, and abounds with the fruits of obedience. It is a grace of the heart as well as of the understanding. It includes trust and affiance as w^ell as knowledge. It credits a divine testimony, and acts, and loves, and obeys, in accordance with the truths which that testimony reveals. It most eminently receives the record of God concerning his Son ; his person, mediation, righteousness, death, glory, kingdom. On this divine Lord it relies for pardon, and grace, and salvation, and therefore "it is of faith that it might be by grace." Let us pray that the life which we live may be " by faith of the Son of God," and then we may hope that, like the ancient patriarchs, we shall die in faith, and enter into that glory w^hich Avill con- summate all its hopes and anticipations.' ON LOYE TO GOD. ' The love of God in Christ Jesus is heaven. We were created to love God, w^e fell by loving self and the creature, w^e are renewed that we may love God again, weakly and im- perfectly on earth, perfectly in glory above. We aim at this love more and more as we grow in grace. It must go through our whole nature. The mind must think of God, the will delight in God, the affections cleave to God, the appetites and senses obey God, the members be instruments of God. He who loves God and not with his whole heart, loves something else and not God. The cause of loving God is God himself; and the only measure to love Him, is to love Him without measure. This is the sum of the whole law, — and our utter inabihty to fulfil it makes the necessity for the Gospel.' 1811—24.] ST. John's. 213 THE LOVE OF CHRIST. ' The love of Jesus Christ softens, melts, and fills the heart. From it flows a tender love to om- neighbour in his bod}^ soul, relations, circumstances, according to his nearness to us, his necessities, and our opportunity of benefiting him ; mortifj'ing in ourselves the contrary passions of pride, vanity, discontent, peevishness, taking and giving offence. This is religion : — not knowledge, but love — not talk, but power — not love in general, but love in particular — not profession, but painful mortification of self and ill-temper, that we may love with a pure heart fervently.' ON PATIENCE. ' The w^orld is so full of sickness and sorrow, that patience perfects and completes the Christian. AVithout this, something is lacking : with it, he is prepared for all the will of God. But observe ; patience is to have her " perfect work." This expression shows that we may have something of this grace, and yet be far from having enough of it. ' Patience has then its full operation, its due and proper effect, Avhen it bears with resignation all the various dealings of God, all the sorrows and pains, and long continued afilictions of this life; when it holds on and holds out all God's time, waiting for the end of the Lord;" when it receives with meekness the occasional trials which are permitted to increase our general afflictions; when under all, faith is unshaken, humility uniform, and love fervent. When this is the case, patience has her " perfect work." It is to be learnt nowhere but in the example of our Lord Jesus Christ, who endured the cross, leaving us an example that w^e should follow his steps. This is the school. Nature has no such lesson to teach, and no power to impress the lesson if she had. Philosophy and human wisdom are proud and impatient, and incapable of inculcating a duty which they neither understand nor value. But the Saviour is the Sanctifier and Eedeemer of the Church. Li His school, the penitent believer learns patience, contentment, and holy peace. 214 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [OHAP. IX. There he acquires calm and undisturbed repose. He is " careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplica- tion with thanksgiving, makes his requests known to God:" and thus " the peace of God which passeth all understanding, keeps his heart and mind through Christ Jesus." Thus in the instructions, motives, promises, duties, doctrine and example of Christ he learns patience. The Holy Ghost enables him to do this. Communion with his Saviour promotes it. Prayer and praise strengthen it. Affliction and experience work it. All the events of life exercise it. Heaven will terminate it for ever and ever.' GOD'S CHASTISEMENTS. ' It is generally in a way of chastisement that God instructs. Like Jacob, or Joseph, or Abraham, or Moses, or Hannah, or Job, or Samuel, various personal or family trials come upon us, and in those seasons God opens our hearts, and seals our instruction. He teaches old lessons and neiv : — 'He teaches the evil of sin, the glory and grace of the Saviour, the blessed consolations of the Holy Spirit, the vanity of the creature, the misery and disorder of the world, the nearness and importance of eternity. ' God instructs also in new points of knowledge and duty. We learn more to effect in one month, in a season of sickness or calamity, than in ten months of prosperity. There, in the silence of a sick chamber, the heavenly Dove can be heard in his softest notes, and can instil peace and comfort into the heart. * And all this instruction is " out of God's law." It is all in the Bible ; but we did not observe it. God teaches us in affliction to look for it there, and to find it. A thousand beauties strike us in the Bible when God teaches us " out of His law." How blessed then is the man whom Thou chasteneth, 0 Lord, and teachest him out of Thy law. " The afflictions of the righteous," says Berthier, " are the steps by which he ascends to heaven : the felicity of the wicked is the declivity by which he goes down to hell." ' 1811—24.] ST. John's. 215 OVERMUCH SORROW. • On the subject of the grief you feel, I doubt not but the infirmity of nature may have fallen into some excess. I am siu'e I know no duty in which we do not fail. In affliction, therefore, we either sink into something of dejection, or are too much hardened by indifierence. The devil urges us on our weaker side. But what then ? Let us confess our constant failings ; let us repent of them as we do of all other sins ; and let us apply to our gi-eat Physician for healing — to the balm of His woimds. to the virtue and unction of His Spirit ! ' natIjre and grace. ' To plan for oiu'selves, to act on oui* own choice, to arrange our projects even in religious matters, this is human natui'e. To lie in the hands of our God and Saviour, to know no will but His, to frame every design in submission to His supreme control — to do tliis really and habitually, and in the detail of our duties, this is the effect of Divine grace. The " only icise God " is an expression full of deep and valuable insti'uction.' CoiTespondence of another kind occupied him greatly about this same period. He had become much interested in the religious state of France, then a prey to superstition on the one hand and infidelity on the other ; and it occuiTed to him that the translation of some of the works of our soimd and evan- gelical divines might prove highly beneficial. Into this project he accordingly threw himself with his accustomed energy. He fixed upon the writings of his two great favoui'ites, Thomas Scott and Joseph Milner, and aimed at the translation into French of the "Commentaiy on the Bible " written by the one, and " The Histoiy of the Church of Christ " by the other. The amount of labom' expended in this cause can scarcely be conceived. He had to consult and interest all the more dis- tinguished French and Swiss pastors ; and Avith this view to caiTy on a correspondence (still preserved) with M. Gaussen of 216 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. Satign}^ Merle D'Aiibigne of Geneva, Leander Van Ess of Darmstadt, Filleul of Jersey, Paiimier of Eouen, Chabrand of Toulouse, Kieffer of Paris, Martin of Bordeaux, Perrot-Droz of Neucliatel, and many others. He had to enlist friends in England, to form a committee, and raise funds. He had to select and appoint translators of the works, and correctors of the press. Nothing can convey a stronger idea of energy and force of character, than his undertaking to construct and guide all this machinery, amidst his numerous and constantly increasing avocations. Operations were commenced. He made himself IDersonally responsible for 300Z. per annum. A London Com- mittee was appointed to control the whole scheme ; a Geneva Committee to translate and revise ; a Paris Committee to print and circulate. The whole machinery was fairly set in motion, and worked satisfactorilj^ though slowly. The extent of the undertaking was to be controlled by experience and the available funds. It went so far, that the Gospel of St. Matthew, the Acts of the Apostles, and St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, with Scott's Comment, were translated and printed ; and thus a valuable comment upon a most important Gospel, Epistle, and Histor}'-, were added to the stock of French divinity. St. John's Gospel was also translated, but not printed. No further actual progress was made. A supply without a demand always involves the risk of failure. There was here no demand. The scheme was not self-supporting, nor perhaps calculated for popularit}^, for Scott's writings must have appeared heavy to the majority of French readers. The project all depended upon the energy and strength of one man. His health failed, and he was unable to sustain it. It fell with him ; and no attempt has since been made to rebuild or to restore the ruins. Every hour of his time would seem to be already filled up, and yet there was one more duty running through all the period now under review, which has not yet been noticed. The vestry of St. John's Chapel may well be deemed remarkable, as a place from whence numberless schemes of benevolence and Christian charity have emanated, and where " prayer was wont to be made." It was the head-quarters of a Society called the London 1811—24.] ST. John's. 217 Clerical Education Society, formed for the purpose of carrying young men of promise and piety, but of straitened means, through the University, by defraying their expenses in whole or in part. The income of the Society was variable, being raised by prirate contributions, and increased by occasional legacies. The trustees were noblemen and gentlemen of high reputation and proved piety, and Daniel Wilson was secretary. He was indefatigable in maintaining, so far as in him lay, the efficiency of the Society, and in keeping up the standard of piety amongst the young men, who were selected with the utmost care, and watched over with the greatest vigilance. The Society was formed in connection with St. John's Chapel in the year 1816 ; and a report in the year 1822 mentions the fact that eleven young 'inen of high character and attain- ments had already been prepared for Holy Orders through its instrumentality. It is evident that the care of such a Society must have required great watchfulness, and added seriously to the labours and responsibility of the minister of St. John's. The meetings were held in the vestry of that church. There, also, a society assembled for many years, called " The Eclectic." It was instituted in the year 1783, and remains to this day. It numbered amongst its earlier members the honoured names of Newton, Foster, Venn, Cecil, Scott, Pratt, and other London clergy, with Mr. Claj^ton and some equally eminent dissenting ministers, and a few laymen. The object was to discuss subjects of divinity with a view to mutual edifi- cation ; and in doing this, the discussion was quite free, and the range of subjects very wide. It met every alternate Monday at four o'clock in the afternoon, and admitted by vote a certain number of visitors each year. Daniel Wilson became a visiting member about the year 1803, and a regular member when minister of St. John's in 1809. In a letter written to the Rev. G. Clayton in 1855, he says, — ' Our meetings together at the Eclectic must be of some forty years standing. I remember you so well, and your seat in our room, and your venerable father's, and Mr. Cecil's, and Mr. Foster's on the other side of the fire-place. I am now in the fifty-fourth year of my ministry. Deo Gratias.' 218 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. It is unnecessary to dwell further upon the proceedings of this society, since they have heen recorded in a most able and interesting work by Archdeacon Pratt of Calcutta, called " Eclectic Notes." It may suffice to say, that Daniel Wilson was deeply interested in its welfare, and most regular in his attendance, and that he spared no pains to enrich the discus- sions. A few cursory remarks never contented him. Even when unable to attend, he would send his notes to be read by another: and nothing but a regard to brevity prevents the insertion in this place of specimens thus prepared and preserved. Whatever his hand found to do, he did it with his might: and he ever illustrated a truth which all experience teaches, that if business is to be done, it is the busy man who does it. The Eclectic Society will be again referred to : but it is time that this chapter should be drawing to a close. Before this, however, is done, it must be noted that in 1821 the lease of St. John's Chapel expired and was renewed. The opportunity was taken of enlarging the accommodation which had been so long and so greatly needed, by adding two rows of pews all round the front of the galleries. Extensive repairs were also undertaken : and the congregation^ with their usual liberality, raised nearly to meet the expenses. The chapel was closed in June, 1821 ; and re -opened in the following November. Part of the interval was passed at Brighton, where he took the duty for Mr. Pearson at St. James's Chapel : and part in close and anxious attendance upon his father-in-law, Mr. William Wilson, who died in peace, after a somewhat lingering illness, on the 24th August, leaving large possessions, and the better heritage of a good name to his surviving and sorrowing family. And now let the reader gather up the threads of this busy life at St. John's : let him recal the family anxieties ; the ministerial duties; the public controversies; the private claims; the literary labours ; the voluminous correspondence ; the "journeyings often;" and all the varied plans of usefulness which had pressed on Daniel Wilson since the year 1812, when first he settled in London ; and then consider whether it was possible (humanly speaking) for body or mind to bear, unhurt, 1811^-24.] ST. John's. 219 siicli a continued strain. Strong and vigorous as liis consti- tution naturally was, it began at last to give way. He had already tried change of residence, and removed, on January 1st, 1820, into what then might be called a country house at Barns- bury Park, Islington. But there had been no real cessation of labour. The effects naturally followed, and he began to com- plain. He writes to Mrs. Hannah More, as follows : — * December 3, 1821. 'You are just the very last person that I could ever forget: but the truth is, I have been so extremely ill during the whole summer that writing became burdensome to me. ' The sermons for Mr. ^Scott, thrice carefully re-written, first began to oppress me in the spring — a confirmation followed — five months repairs of my chapel brought large additional anxiety — the death of a dear child — and last and deepest of all, the loss of an invaluable parent, completed the series of my afflictions, and reduced me to a state of debility and sickness, from which I am hardly as yet recovered. Thanks be to the Almighty's goodness, however, I am much better, and have preached twice on each of the four Sundays since the re-opening of my chapel. I am obliged, however, to be upon my guard. My weekly lecture must be droj^ped. My extra duties must be suspended. And I must, as I ought, go softly on the path of life, which has become to me so peculiarly uncertain. ' All is right. My proud heart requires much discipline. The world within as well as without the Church is seductive. To be upright with God, to subdue the selfish disorder of the passions, to walk humbl}^ to pray, to wait for heaven, to love the master whom we serve and the service for His sake, and, at last, to ascribe everything to His mercy and grace : this is religion ! And how difficult to preserve, and nourish, and increase it in any measure as we ought ! I do assure you, my dear friend, the nearer I approach the verge of time, and look over to the eternity which lies beyond, the more I tremble for myself, and frequently desire to give greater diligence to make my " calling and election sure." * You shall see before long a private memorial of my father- 220 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. in-law, which I have drawn up for my brothers and sisters. I am sure it will please you.' The resolution here expressed of refraining from all extra labour was, to a certain extent, carried out during the summer and autumn of 1822 ; but it was too late. Towards the close of that year, his strength again gave way, and in November he was prostrate. On the 29th November, 1822, he writes thus to a friend. * Though scarcely recovered from a languishing illness, I must endeavour to send you a few lines. May it please God that I learn the lessons which the retirement of a sick room, or rather, which the grace of God, my Bible, and spiritual meditations should teach me. I write badlj^ because I cannot sit up. The world is passing away. Eternity (and how eloquent is that word now to me) is drawing nigh. Nothing affects me but that which appertains to the kingdom of God. May that kingdom come ! Oh, that truth, love, zeal, may more and more pervade the Church militant on earth.' On the resumption of his duties in the early part of 1823, he preached a course of sermons on the sickness and recovery of Hezekiah, moved thereto, no doubt, by the points of similarity it presented in his own case : and he thus describes his state in a letter, dated February 14th, 1823. ' I write without reflection, effort, or annoj'ance, as when speaking to a friend. It is a pleasure thus to scribble letters ; and any other way would be insupportable to me. I like them to be open, free, frank, and affectionate. • I have not strength to go on with my " Evidences of Christianity." The papers lie quiet, waiting a more pro- pitious day. I give myself to my two Sunday sermons. One is always written, and I put tolerably strict limits to the other ; nevertheless, I need your advice. No friends give me frank and open advice. I like scolding. Truth always pleases me, though sometimes it may cause annoyance at the moment. I see no one ; and neither pay nor receive visits. I amuse myself 1811—24.] ST. John's. 221 with Frencli. The translation of Scott's Comment now occupies me. The work is begun at Paris, Eouen, Toulouse, and Geneva. I have written twenty letters about it lately. Geneva translates ; Paris corrects the style ; London superintends the sense. They will translate St. Matthew's Gospel first. The education of young men in France also occupies me. All these things compel me to read a good deal of French. I study the first authors. My great desire is thoroughly to discover the state of souls in France, the cause of their misfortunes, the nature of their literature, the means of remedy. ' I cannot close without one word respecting Reginald Heber's nomination to the bishopric of the East. Never was anything, so far as I can judge, more'^happy.' It will easily be imagined that a relaxation of this kind was not sufiicient : and entire change soon became imperative. Acting upon medical advice, therefore, that journey to the Continent was arranged, which has already been alluded to, and was described in his " Letters from an absent Brother." He w^as accompanied by his wife and family, and by a valuable friend, since deceased, the Eev. John Natt, Fellow of St. John's, Oxford, and afterwards vicar of St. Sepulchre, London. The anticipation of this journey seems to have acted like a stimulant upon his jaded mind, and something of the old energy is visible in the following letter. 'June 11, 1823. * I want your advice about our route — Calais, Brussels, Liege, Coblentz, Basle, Zurich, Geneva, &c. ' I beg you to give me a list of towns, places, mountains, lakes, and people, which I may visit without fatigue, whilst spending one month between Calais and Geneva. As soon as we leave Geneva about the end of July, we shall make further arrangements. Paris will detain me one month ; especially if my Gospel of St. Matthew is going on there. I hope to resume my customary duties the first Sunday in November. I beg you to give me a clear decisive sketch of my route, full of lights (bright spots), so that I may omit nothing of importance, and write by return of post.' 222 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [OHAP. XX. The route pursued was very much as thus sketched out : and the tour, lasting from June to November, was a source of much enjoj-ment. Health also returned, and when the party arrived in England the object proposed seemed to have been attained. But such was not the will of God. His return was hailed with joy by his congregation, and he gladly prepared to resume his ministrations amongst them. He reached home on the 31st of October: but even whilst travelling from Dover he felt some premonitions of indispo- sition, and remarked that he thought the illness of the year before would soon return. He preached, however, on Sunday morning, November 2nd, from Psalm cxvi. 12, 13 : What shall I render unto the Lord for all His goodness unto me ? I will take the cup of salvation and will call upon the name of the Lord;" but was so greatly exhausted after the service, that he was unable to preach again that day. This was most unusual with him. He had been much agitated during the previous week by the intelligence of the sudden death of Mr. Charles Grant; and when on this Sunday afternoon and the following day he sat by the side of the afflicted widow, he " could scarcely," he said, " collect himself sufficiently to utter a few words of consolation." Then followed the sudden preparation of the funeral sermon, which was preached on the next Sunday morning, and sub- sequently printed. Then came a sermon in the cause of charity. He was flushed and excited, and said that he had felt so nervous that he could scarcely force himself into the pulpit. He was now under medical care, but could not be persuaded to " rest awhile." On Sunday, November 30th, he preached twice : once, in an animated strain, from the words, " Awake, awake, put on strength, 0 arm of the Lord" (Isaiah li. 9); and once, in a low and depressed tone, from the words, " Oh, my God, my soul is cast down within me " (Psalm xlii. 6) ; and then he was silent for eight months ! These were, in fact, his last sermons as minister of St. John's. When he again ascended the pulpit, he was Vicar of 1811—24.] ST. John's. 228 Islington : but the way was through the " valley of the shadow of death." Such .was the will of God. All the symptoms of the previous year's illness now re- appeared in an aggravated form : total prostration of strength, abscesses and glandular swellings, languor, and faintings, and extreme depression. He seemed like one " going to the gates of the grave, and deprived of the residue of his years." (Isaiah xxxviii. 10.) He had been a teacher of others : he was now himself sent to school. The excitement of an active life was now changed for the solitude of a sick chamber. Higher duties in the Church awaited him, and the " discipline of sorrows" was the preparation. His course had been that of one " valiant for the truth ; " it was now as when a " standard-bearer fainteth." Who can fathom the purposes of God in thus dealing with his servant ? There was no apparent cause. But we know, and are sure, that He doth not willingly afflict the children of men; and that He doeth all things well : — " Some gracious purpose has to be fulfill'd : Some siu prevented, or soiue murm'ring still'd : The process may be long, the mystery great, But whilst the Father works, the child must wait." His journal might have thrown some light upon all this, but it ha,d been discontinued. It had long ceased to tell the results of self-examination ; the hinderings of prayer ; the failings of temper ; the wanderings of affection ; the subtle workings of pride ; and the temptations attendant upon a public life, and an influential position. Its very silence is perhaps suggestive. But the chamber of sickness is to the man of God a place for retirement, humiliation, and confession ; and by resorting thither, something may be learnt concerning the divine chastise- ments, and how they " work together for good to them that love God, and are the called according to His purpose." This may be done in the case before us : for a sister, who was his wife's dear friend and counsellor as well as his own, was in daily and almost hourly attendance, and she kept a record of all that passed. From that record we may glean the needful particulars. 224 THF. LIFE OF DAXIEL WILSON. [chap. ix. "At the commencement of the attack," she says, " I read to him by his desire the third chapter of Colossians; he said, ' That is one of my favouiite chapters. It contains the whole of the Gospel — doctrine and practice.' He went on to say, ' Many are the lessons to be learnt in affliction. "What I want is to get nearer to God, and to feel that it is tlie hand of my heavenly Father. But my mind is weakened with my body, and that it is, makes me think this affliction more trying than the one last year. But though my thoughts wander, and there is much distraction of mind, yet, blessed be God, I feel that my feet are upon the Rock, Christ Jesus. I can cast myself as a guilty, helpless sinner, at the foot of His cross, and beseech Him to have merc}^ upon me for His Name's sake.' " * Dec. Sth. He begged his wife to read the description of the Christian armour in the epistle to the Ephesians. She read : — ' " Finally, brethren, be strong in the Lord." * Ah ! ' he said, with ferv^our, * that is what I desire : to be strong in the Lord.' ' " Stand, therefore, having j^our loins girt about with truth." ' Yes,' he continued, ' there we see the importance of sincerity.' * " Above all taking the shield of faith." * That is what I greatly need,' he said, ' for now is my trial of faith.' ' And thus he went on through all the verses : his spirits low; his feeling that of daily increasing w^eakness ; his impression that he should not long continue here. ' Dec. 9f/i. He occupied himself a little in correcting the press for his " Letters from an absent Brother." ' Dec. 17th. This day had been appointed for a meethig to be held in the house of Dr. Steinkopff, at which thanksgivings were to be offered for the safe return of himself and Daniel Wilson. But this was now turned into a meeting for suppli- cation and prayer, that God would be pleased to restore His servant once more to health and life. The meeting was 1811—24.] ST. John's. 225 very interesting, and attended by many friends, wlio were addressed by Mr. Bickersteth from Psalm Ixviii. 30 : " Unto God the Lord belong the issues from death." * Pain, and weakness, and inflammation continuing and increasing, the congregation of St. John's resolved also to unite in prayer on behalf of their valued minister. It was not thought expedient to give anything of publicity to the design ; but a certain hour was appointed, and each family was to pray " apart." (Zechariah xii. 12.) ' Dec. 22ncl. He spoke of his illness as being very tr3dng : but amongst the " all things " which should work together for his good. " My anxious desire," he said, "is to get the abiding permanent effect of a sanctified affliction. Affliction tends to awaken conscience, to unmask the world, to show the value of prayer, to endear the Saviour, to make us see the importance of an habitually close walk with God. God says. He sits ' as a Refiner and Purifier of silver;' and I desire to submit to His blessed will." ' Afterwards, when reading a letter from Mrs. Hannah More, just received, in which she spoke of him in high terms, he stopped me ere I had well begun, and desired me to proceed no further, adding, " Satan is ever ready to take advantage of the kindness of friends to fill the mind with vanity." ' Dec. 2Qth. He was a little revived, and was informed that a surveyor, sent by Dr. Strahan, the vicar of Islington, wished to see him about some of his glebe -land. * He turned away with dislike from the subject, and said, " Glebe-land ! My glebe-land will be in heaven I hope. It is my full persuasion that this affliction will be unto death, and that it becomes me to set my house in order ; for I shall die and not live." ^ Dec. SOth. He was somewhat better, and said, "I desire to use every means that God has put in my power, and then ' Here I am : do with me, Lord, as seemeth good in Thy sight.' When I was abroad, I went over the Porcelain manufac- TOL. I. ■ Q 226 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. tories. There I saw the potter take the clay and mould it to the form he wished. Whether larger or smaller, handsome or ugly, he moulded it till it assumed the intended design : and when finished, if it was the exact vessel he desired, or if there was any defect in it, he re-moulded it till it came forth agree- ably to his wishes. And thus am I in the hands of my heavenly Potter ; that I also may be moulded to the form He desires : and though it is trying to flesh and blood, * Shall the clay say to the potter, Why hast thou made me thus ? ' Let the potsherds strive with the potsherds of the earth. My desire and prayer is, that I may be as clay in God's hands and know no will but His." * To the noble lady with whom he had previously corresponded, and who visited him with much sympathy and kindness about this time, he said, "Religion in the heart is a divine flame: but (pointing to the fire at which he sat) unless it be watched, and continually stirred, and fed with fresh fuel, it decays and goes out. So religion in our hearts would decay and die out but for the Holy Spirit, who watches over and prevents it by His mighty power. He sends afiliction to fan the smouldering embers, and stirs us up to more diligence and fervour. And my own desire and prayer is, that by this illness I may get more of the Holy Spirit's teaching — greater nearness to God — a deeper sense of the evil of sin — more true love to Christ ; and be enabled more simply to trust in His finished salvation." On the 1st January, 1824, he was somewhat better, and his bed was covered with books. " I am anxious," he said, " that the various lessons I am now being taught may never be erased from my mind. If my life is spared, I shall desire to ' go softly all my days.' I am thankful that I can now read the Bible with delight : and my one only wish is that my soul may be benefited. I desire to examine my heart and see the depth of its wickedness. I feel that Satan is at my right hand, ever ready to take advantage over me. Therefore, to watch and pray is my constant duty, if I would walk closely with my God." 1811—21.] ST. John's. 227 ' Jan. 2nd. After walking round the room, he laid himself on the sofa, and soon broke out into these words : " ' Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.' And who is it, that could thus call his afflictions light ? The man who had been in ' shipwrecks ' and ' imprisonments ' and ' deaths oft,' these were light afflictions. What a spiritual view must St. Paul have had, and how must he have realised eternal things in all their vast importance, thus to have estimated the lightness of everything beside." * He then entered more closely into the present state of his religious feelings. He said, that for some time previous to his illness he had in heart departed from God ; that his journey abroad had greatly distracted his mind, and still further increased this spiritual declension ; but that it was his constant grief and lamentation, and his earnest desire was to return unto the Lord with full purpose of heart ; that those addresses in Jeremiah to the backslider he especially took to himself, and felt their awakening power ; that the fifty-first Psalm was the very language of his heart at this moment; that he already began to feel the salutary effects of this chastisement ; that his Bible was becoming increasingly precious to him ; and that noiu when awake in the night, one sweet passage after another presented itself to his memory with great refreshment ; and though not yet restored to the "joy of God's salvation," yet he could wait and earnestly pray for this blessing : adding with peculiar solemnity, " My soul cleaveth unto the dust ; quicken thou me, according to thy word." ^ Jan. Srd. His physician told him he was going on well; but that his constitution would have stood very little more, and that he must be extremely careful for two years to come. * When repeating this conversation, he said that he considered it a most important opinion, and should make a memorandum of it, in order that, " if his life was spared, he might refer to it hereafter, and call to mind how near he had been to eternity." * Jan. 6th. He said, "It is one thing to bear the Christian name, and to stand well with the world, and even with the q2 228 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. IX. Church ; and another to walk closely ivith God. A fair profes- sion may he kept up, whilst the heart is cold and lifeless." ^ Jan. 11th, He was in much pain, and unahle to move. "I know," he said, "that this affliction springs not from the dust, hut is sent to answer some wise and gracious design. This increased pain is likewise part of the process ; and God shuts me out from the world that I may be brought back to Him. And if this gracious end is accomplished, I should think little of a twelvemonth's illness. But how to get my heart alive again to God is the great point ! It must be the gradual work of time, with the Holy Spirit's blessing upon the use of appointed means." * Jail, 12th. I spoke of a cousin, very ill, concerning whom Dr. Abernethy had said, " Not all the world could save him." " How awful !" he said. " How awful ! to be called before the judgment seat of Christ. Happy the man who has fled for refuge in the days of health to that Saviour who alone can save him. Eight weeks have I now been ill ; and I trust I shall ever consider them as eight of the best weeks of my life. If this affliction brings me back to God, and restores my wandering feet, I shall bless Him, though it last for eighteen weeks." ' Some hymns were then read to him which, he said, were very sweet and pious ; and his sister goes on to remark : " His humble teachable spirit exceeds anything I have ever met with (and Mr. Bickersteth says the same) before. It is the spirit of a little child, longing, watching, eager to catch hold of anything that will impart a ray of light and instruction ; and it is, I am persuaded, the immediate work of the Holy Spirit of God, for nature could never produce fruit so beautiful." ^ Jan. I'^th. He said, " I have not those sensible joys I long after. But if God sees fit to withhold comfort from me, I desire to submit : whilst at the same time I pray for them, and seek for them in the ways of God's appointment." 'Jan. IGth. He was better, and able to see friends. He rather 1811—24.] ST. John's. 229 mourned that these kind visits had broken in upon him and robbed him of his time for reading and meditation. " I want to get on towards heaven," he said, " but the world intrudes ; and how to prevent it, I cannot tell, now that I am better." He said that he was reading with great pleasure Owen on the " Morti- fication of sin in believers." He thought it did him more good than any book of the kind he had read during his illness. It was deep and searching, and went to the root of the matter ; and that was what he wanted : superficial books did not suit him. ^ Jan. Idth. The physicians began to talk of Brighton. He said it w^ould have been a great pleasure to him to have preached once before he w^t. " My dear people at St. John's lie very near my heart. But such is not the will of God." 'Jan. 22nd. He went out for the first time for a little walk; and on Jan. 23rd for a drive. On Jan. 27th, pain, faintness, exhaustion, depression, all returned, and a serious relapse was threatened. He, however, gradually rallied. I feel," he said, " that this fresh attack is a kind of disappointment ; but the great thing is to lie passive in God's hands." * He was told of the death of the cousin before mentioned, one of whose last expressions was, " I have found a precious Saviour." With great emotion he replied, " What else could be desired ? This is all we any of us want in life or death. How awful a thing does it appear to me to die ! One moment fixes irrevocably our fate ! And God judges not as man judges. Man looks at the outward appearance, but God judges by the heart. When I look back upon my life, I see so much sin, imperfection, and corruption in every thought, word, and action, that my only hope of salvation is in coming simply to the Saviour as the poor Publican did, with ' God he merciful to me a sinner.' " * A few days more, and he was at Brighton. The change was immediately beneficial. But the alternations of sickness and health were frequent ; and the progress, though on the whole 230 THE LIFE OF DANIEL V\'ILSO]S\ [chap . IX. towards recover}^, was slow. The same submissive, humble, trusting state of mind, however, remained. " I am very poorly," he writes, after a long interval ; " but my mind is calm, reposing on the blessed will and mercy of God my Saviour." And again : " My constant stay and resource is the omnipo- tence and mercy of God, to whom all things are known, and all things possible. That omnipotence and that mercy I desii^e to lay hold of by faith in the sacrifice of the Redeemer ; and there I REST. Life and death are within the compass of the promise, ' all things are yours.' Here is all- sufficiency for my aid." These letters w^ere written, April 15th, 1824. On May 18th, 1824, Daniel Wilson was Vicar of Islington. CHAPTER X. ISLINGTON. 1824—1832. Living of Islington — Dr. Stratan-^^Successor for St. John's — Letter from Mr. Pratt — His own impressions — Anticipations of the Parishioneis — 'Parochial matters — Vestry meetings — Additional services — New churches — Piiblic appeal — Prayer — Bishop of London — Church commissioners — Sites — Plans — Curates — Schools — Pastoral address — Lectureship Vestries — Guildford — Journals— Illness of ]\Trs. Wilson — Her Death — Confirmation — New libi-ai-y — Personal habits — Consecration of new churches — Proprietary school — The Apocrypha controversy — Newfound- land School Society — Parish troubles — Mr. Church-warden Woodward — Bishop Turner — Charles Grant — First idea of Bishopric of Calcutta — Interview with Mi\ Charles Grant — Appointment to Calcutta — Interview with Lord Grey — Consecra- tion at Lambeth— Reflections — Eclectic Society — Attendance at Court — Visit to Farnham Chapel — Islington Testimonials — Departure from Islington. A VERY different scene presented itself before the eyes of Daniel Wilson, when led by the good Providence of God, he emerged from " the valley of the shadow of death." A parochial charge was now to be assumed, thirty thousand souls watched over, churches erected, clergy multiplied, schools organised, church-wardens conciliated, vestries managed, and spiritual destitution of all kinds supplied. This was very different from ministering to an attached congregation, and edifying a select circle — and all this was involved in his new position as Vicar of Islington. His steps were yet feeble ; he paused for a short time, contemplating the prospect; and then went forward " strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might." The advowson of the living of Islington, had been for many years in the possession of Mr. William Wilson of Worton. By deed of sale, dated June 8, 1811, it had been conveyed to him for the sum of 5500Z. ; and on his death, in the year 1821, was bequeathed to his son-in-law. When therefore Dr. Strahan 232 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. the vicar, died on the 18th Ma}^ 1824, it fell at once to Mr. Wilson. He was instituted on June 4th, and inducted July 2nd, entering that day on his forty-seventh year. His first sermon, after a silence of eight months, was preached in the parish chui'ch, from the words, " Feed the church of God which is among you," &c. (1 Pet. v. 2, 3.) But he was quite unahle to continue his ministrations at Islington, or even to bid farewell to his flock at St. John's ; and he retired again into the country until the month of November. This interval will afford an opportunity of considering the state of Islington itself, and the view taken of his new duties by the vicar, and his many friends. In the year 1824, Islington had still some pretensions to be called the country. A few remnants of green fields still divided it from the metropolis, and traditions of shepherds and shepherdesses yet lingered. All such distinctive marks are now swept away, and no casual observer can tell where London ends and Islington begins. With its immense and rapid increase of late years we have nothing now to do. It suffices, that at the time of which we write, the number of inhabitants was about thirty thousand, and that there was but one church, and one chapel of ease, for the spiritual necessities of that great multitude. Strong local attachment characterised the people, combined with good sense, kindly feeling, religious principle ; and under good guidance they rose at once to duty, and abounded in good works. But all this was marred by occasional outbm'sts of party spu'it, easily provoked, and with difficulty allayed. The Rev. Dr. Strahan had been for many years the vicar ; and his character entitles him to be spoken of with great respect. He was a fine specimen of the old school of divines — venerable in appearance — courteous in manners — a good scholar — an excellent reader — regular in the discharge of official duties — and a favourite with a large section of his parishioners. Under him Islington slept. Under his successor it awoke. And it has never slept since. It has done more perhaps than any other parish, to meet the wants of an increasing population, 182i— 32.] ISLINGTON. 233 and has set an 'example, which might advantageously he fol- lowed by the whole country. The appointment of Mr. Wilson to the vicarage, naturally caused " great searchings of heart." He was thoroughly well known as a leader among the Evangelical clergy — prompt, fearless, decided, active, uncompromising ; and whilst many of his own St. John's people who resided in Islington, and all who loved him for the truth's sake," greatly rejoiced, there were others who feared the new doctrine, and doubted " whereunto it would grow." These doubts and fears however did not make them forget that they were gentlemen and Churchmen, and they agreed that their new vicar should be received with all possible courtesy and respect. Such conduct had its reward ; and many who at first shrunk from the messenger, lived to bless God for the message which he brought. The event which was thus regarded with varied feelings by the parishioners of Islington, was viewed with unmingled regret by the congregation at St. John's. They had sjanpathised with their minister in his illness, and felt most anxious for his recovery. Their united prayers on his behalf had been heard and answered, but the life spared was not henceforth to be spent in their service, but in another part of the vineyard. Some little disappointment also may naturally be supposed to have mingled with their feelings of regret; for they had just enlarged the chapel, and renewed the lease ; and thus incurred a large expenditure in vain. But the contingency was not unexpected. The removal of their minister had been only a question of time ; and the call of duty was too clear to be mistaken. Nothing remained therefore but acquiescence ; and the hope that a fit successor would be found. And this, in truth, was the very first matter which claimed Mr. Wilson's attention and obtained it. He speedily fixed upon the Kev. Charles Jerram, vicar of Chobham, who had been for some time officiating at St. John's with much acceptance, as his successor. Mr. Jerram accepted the appointment, but owing to ill health and family affliction, did not enter upon it till the month of November, when he took upon himself the lease, and freed Mr. Wilson from all further responsibility. He mean- while, unable to preach a farewell sermon, had taken leave of 234 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. the congregation in a circular letter, addressed to all, but directed to each individual member in particular. It was dated August 18th, 1824. After referring to his weak state of health, he recalled to mind the truths which had been ministered amongst them, by Mr. Cecil, and himself ; appealed to every man's conscience in the sight of God, exliorted them to stand fast in the faith, commended his successor to their kind consideration, and bade them most affectionately farewell. Some months elapsed before he was able to appear again in that pulpit, and he was then in the full discharge of his new duties. To a wide circle of friends also, in all parts of the country, the accession of Mr. Wilson to the living of Islington, was a matter of deep interest. It was mingled also perhaps with some slight feelings of apprehension lest his health should prove unequal to the task, his zeal overpower his discretion, and past experience fail to meet the present necessities. One admirable letter written to him by his former tutor, Mr. Pratt, will suffice to express what many felt ; and an extract from it is therefore inserted here. 'Doughty Street, July 29, 1824. ' Be assm^ed that you have and shall have, my earnest prayers for your special success in your weighty charge. Your past life as a student, a tutor, and a minister, has been a life of great intellectual exertion, and you have had grace given you to meet its demands in a way for which very many will have reason to praise God for ever. But if your constitutional temperament would have allowed you to go through this course of mental labour with the least possible demand on the spirits and physical strength, yet it would have sorely tried and sensibly worn you. But necessity now calls you to a somewhat different course; and mercifully, jour new course is as expedient and desirable as it is unavoidable. To throw your whole intellect, by constant and exhausting efforts into your ministry at Islington, as you have done at St. John's, would bring you quickly to the grave. But that course would be out of place at Islington. Your changed circumstances will require you to render prominent and characteristic in your ministry, those qualities of tenderness and affection which will less 1S21-32.] ISLIXGTOX. 235 exliaiist your own spirits in preparation, and be more consola- tory to your own soul in the delivery. The shepherd, the father, the overseer, the example, the brother and companion in tribulation," "Paul the aged," rather beseeching though he might be bold to exhort ; these and other similar character- istics of the matui'er labours of the apostles, point out your way, and show after what manner your own closing ministry should be modelled. I trust that you will be mercifully enabled to cast all the burden of care which so great a charge brings with it, on the Lord. I hope you will cut off as speedily as may be, all extraneous duties, such as the French Commentary ; for I am quite persuaded that under your circumstances, you must do personally as little as possible in things out of your own/[)arish. Surround youi'self, as far as needful, ^^ith able, docile, and affectionate assistants, and then live like a father in the midst of his children ; and God our Savioui', I have good hope and humble confidence, will make your last days, your most fruitful.' And what, meanwhile, was passing in Mr. Wilson's own mind ? One extract from his journal (written some years after), will tell his feelings on the retrospect of the past ; and three letters, one to his son, and two to his mother, will unveil his anticipations as to the future. In the J ournal he writes as follows : — ' My coiu'se in London was strangely intermingled with great mercies from God, and great miseries from my own evil heai't. My Saviour knows all. I can neither record, nor realise all the temptations, the backslidings, the corruptions of heart, wliich have defiled me. It is terrible to think of.' The letter to his son shows his deep sense of the responsi- bility of his new position. ' Islington, June 5. 1824. ' I know you will rejoice to hear that yesterday I was instituted by the Bishop of London to the vicarage of this place. My induction, which gives me possession of the temporalities of the curCj I have fixed for Friday, July 2nd ; 236 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X, the day of my bii-tli. On Sunday, July 4th, Dr. Strahan's curate leaves, and I enter on my own duties either personally or by my curate, a Mr. Marshall, to whom I have promised my nomination. To day I shall receive the mandate of induction, which I have requested your dear uncle William (the Rev. Wm. Wilson, Yicar of Walthamstow, now Dr. Wilson) to execute. ' I am happy in the thought that you will be at home at my induction and reading-in, (if I should be well enough) because I wish to interest you as early as possible in the solemn charge of thirty thousand souls, which is now laid upon me. Upon you, my dear boy, this charge will devolve some day if you live; and from you it will, I trust, descend as an inheritance of grace and mercy from your dear grandfather to future generations. Consider how much will depend on the religious character and the decided practical piety of myself and children. If this spring of all usefulness should be dried up, the parish will be a curse to us instead of a blessing and an honour — the highest honour God can put on a family, viz : to preach amongst such a people the unsearchable riches of Christ.' His letters to his mother carry on the same idea, and are the more interesting, because she was now far advanced in life. His earlier letters to her will not have been forgotten ; these are the last : — 'WoRTON, Sept. 20, 1824. ' I just write you a hasty line to assure you that I am going on much the same. My general health is certainly gradually improving, and I think I am better now than before the erisj'pelas attacked me. But all is right. Resignation is our duty and our interest. It meets and responds to God's sovereignty over us. * Yesterday my mind was much occupied with reflections on my Ordination vows. I hope I felt some gratitude to God for his unnumbered mercies, as well as humiliation on account of my unnumbered sins and deficiencies. To have been honoured by being put at all into the ministry of the glorious Gospel, is an unspeakable grace. But to have been so largely blessed at Chobham, Oxford, Worton, and St. John's, and now to have 1S24— 32.] ISLINGTON. 237 been called to an immensely wide sphere like Islington, with unbounded opportunities of usefulness, is a grace which quite overwhelms my mind. And then, when I connect this with my state of health and the extreme uncertainty of any future capacities of serving God in public, I feel that I can only lie in his hands, as clay in the hands of the potter, and say " Xot my will, but thine be done." ' It is not the least of my mercies, that hitherto everything has gone on so admirably at St. John's and at Islington. I expect trials as to both. But hitherto all has been calm ; in pity to my bodily and mental infirmities. I bless God also, that your life and health have been spared to see me placed in my last scene of duty, for I (?an anticipate no further remove in this world. My warmest affections are fixed on your happiness and comfort, and that of my dear brothers and sisters. I pray God to bless them all, and prepare them for his heavenly kingdom.' 'WoRTON, iVov. 14, 1824. * I have been meditating to day on the words of Elihu (Job xxxiii. 16, 17), " Then he openeth the ears of man," &c. * One design of our heavenly Father is to break up our counsels and plans, and thus hide from us that secret vanitj^ and self-applause, which are so natural to us. It is now a twelvemonth since my thoughts and plans and purposes have been overturned. I have been during this time again and again forming my schemes, and God has withdrawn me from them. I thought I should be well enough to do this or that. I designed to preach so often at St. John's ; I jolanned what I would do this month and the other — God has " withdrawn " me from my purposes ! I have not preached once at St. John's since Nov. 20th, 1823, that is, for exactly a year : and now my dear brother and friend begins his new duties there. * Now may I cease from all purposes, and betake myself to prayer. May I now be nothing, that God may be " all in aU." If I should be permitted to enter on my new duties at Islington, may I enter on them fearful, humble, resigned, emptied of self ; without schemes, purposes, or castles in the air ; and with pride and self hidden from mine eyes. May Christ live in me. May I be content to know the duty of the day ; and leave off 238 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. planning, and foreboding, and managing for futurity, as out of my province.' The intervening months having past away, he returned to Islington in November, and on Sunday, the 28th, preached an Advent sermon from Mark i. 15, " The time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God is at hand. Eepent ye, and believe tlie Gospel." He thus afforded some indication of the course he intended to pursue. He desired to win a way for the Gospel by moderation, gentleness, and order, without failing in fidelity, or compromising the truth. He knew the congregation before whom he was called to minister; and recognised his new position. Before long, however, some persons began to wonder at what they deemed a sacrifice of principle. He seemed to restrain himself in the pulpit. His appeals seemed to be less fervent, and his manner less earnest. They said " he was very different at St. John's." They almost doubted if he preached the Gospel. But this was " their foolishness." The sermons were the same. They were St. John's sermons wisely adapted to Islington : and the course pursued was the one most likely to produce the desired effect — " if by any means I may save some." He was gently remonstrated with by a well-v/isher, and his reasons were asked. The answer was immediate, and to this effect : — " I could preach away the parish church congregation in a fortnight ; and in another fortnight, per- haps, I could fill it with a congregation twice as large. But these are my parishioners. I do not wish to drive them away. I long for their souls as one that must give account. My heart's desire is to lead them to Christ. The branch in the vine must not be cut off, but made fruitful." And his actions out of the pulpit, as well as in it, were in accordance with these words. When troublous times came on, and many were offended ; some friend told him of an angry parishioner who had declared that neither he nor his family would ever come to the parish church again. "What do you say ?" was the Vicar's response, " What name did you mention ? Where does he live ? I will caU on him to-morrow morning." He called accordingly, and saw the family, and all was set right in a moment : for few could resist him, when he wished to please. I ISLINGTON PARISH CHDRCH. Vol. I . r-lie C^rf. f lS2i— 32.] ISLIXGTOX. 239 It is scarcely necessary to say that this action was entirely disinterested. As vicar, he was of course independent of all secular motives ; and the slightest intimation of an intention of givipg up a pew in church, was followed hy twenty earnest applications for it. The effect of the conduct he pursued was in the end, what he desired. None left the church : but on the contrary, prejudices began to yield, hearts to soften, gTace to work. Religion became prominent, and worldliness drew back complaining and murmuring : — " There is no such thing as getting a comfortable game at cards now, as in Dr. Strahan's time." One old gentleman, a high Churchman from his youth, was so full of anger at the change, that he could scarcely speak upon the subject. He threatened to leave the parish altogether. But whi^t he lingered, the angel of the Lord "laid hold upon his hand," and all was changed. " No," he replied to an application about his pew, " I shall not leave. I shall remain. I find now that religion is heart- work." It will readily be supposed that vast crowds assembled in the church, and that every standing-place was occupied. It was the practice of the vicar now to sit in the pulpit. He was at first compelled to do this from ill-health; but it became a habit, and he continued it to the end of hfe. A stool was constructed which would take to pieces, and which raised him, sitting, to the height of a person standing. Cross bars steadied it and rested his feet : and upon these, when excited by liis subject, or desiring to impress some weighty truth upon his auditors, he often rose, greatly increasing his height, and suggesting the idea origmated by John Knox, that he was about to " flee out of the pulpit." The effect, though not graceful, was impressive, and earnest ; and in Daniel Wilson's case, something of dignity was always attached even to his peculiarities. But it is not in the pulpit we shall now have to consider him, so much as in the parish. In parochial matters he was instantly involved ; and there was something of peculiarity in Islington, which made every movement comphcated. It was not simply a parish with vicar, ch^irch-wardens, church-rates, and vestry-meetings ; but it was governed by a local act of 210 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. Parliament. A large body of trustees were elected by the people at large : and they managed the funds of the parish, subject to the approval of the rate -payers in vestry assembled. There were three church-wardens, the senior of whom exercised officially the chief authority. They assigned the pews (with a few exceptions), collected the rents, and applied the proceeds to church expenses. The public vestry-meetings were, till recently, held in the church itself (the chairman having his seat in the reading-desk), when scenes of turmoil and confusion sometimes took place, unbecoming everywhere, but most dis- graceful in the house of God. Excited crowds filled all the pews, loud clamour frequently arose, religion was itself assailed, profane words were heard, and evil passions of all kinds were let loose. But this belongs to a later day : at first the sea was calm. Additional church accommodation was the most pressing want; but, as a previous step, it was necessary to consider whether that which was already available, could be rendered more efficient. In the parish church there were but two services on the Sunday : one in the morning, for which the vicar was responsible ; and the other in the afternoon, which was supplied by a lecturer. A third service in the evening, there- fore, was clearly practicable, and, as a temporary measure, the vicar offered to be responsible for the duty, if the parish would defray all necessary expenses. The first vestry over which he presided was called to consider of this matter. It was held on February 17th, 1825. His own account of it is as follows : — 'Islington, Fel. 18, 1825. 'I had, last night, my vestry for nearly four hours at the church, on the evening service. About two hundred persons attended, and long discussions arose — not upon the main question, for all approved of opening the church ; but on the points, Whether the church should be entirely free, or the seats be let : and then. Whether the expenses should be paid by the church-wardens, or by voluntary subscription. It was carried at length unanimously that the church should be free, and by 117 against 59 that the church -wardens should pay the 1S24— 32.] ^SLTNGTO^^ 241 expenses. Nothing could be more kind and respectful than their whole conduct to me, personally, but I was worn out with standing, speaking, talking, and calling to order — in short, ruling the waves of the sea, and the tumult of the people." ' The plan was immediately carried into effect with the happiest results. On Feb. 28th, the vicar reports that on the previous evening the church had been opened for the first time, and that it was crowded. In the same letter, he saj^s one word about his state of health, " My health is pretty good. My sermon yesterday was the ninth. I can walk about, and I make calls on my iDarishioners, especially the sick, two or three times a week." He adds expect to hear every day something about the new churches." These last words introduce a new subject. It appears from them that some movement had already taken place for the erection of new churches in the parish. The first idea had been to build a single church ; but it was suggested that this would be a most inadequate supply for a parish so extensive ; and that three might probably be erected at once, without any great additional effort. It was determined therefore that the attempt should be made ; and in the month of May the matter was ripe for a decision. The parish was not opposed, but it was reluctant. The spirit of church building had been checked in its birth by mismanagement. In 1812, the first stone of a new Chapel of Ease had been laid, for the erection of which the parish trustees had been empowered to raise and expend the sum of 15,000L In 1814, when the Chapel of Ease was completed, it was found that a sum of 32,000Z. had been expended ; and the burden thus incurred, was still pressing on the rate-payers in the shape of annuities, amounting to above 2000Z. per annum. But, worse than this, a feeling of dissatis- faction and distrust had been aroused, and it was not allayed when the vicar came forward with his new proposals. These proposals were embodied in a circular letter which was widely distributed over the whole parish. It was dated. May 7, 1825, and the main points on which it dwelt were the following : The parish contained thirty thousand people, and was rapidly VOL. I. R 2-1.2 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [cnAP. X. increasing. Land was already let for buildings which, when completed, would raise the population to fifty thousand souls. The church and Chapel of Ease together had sittings for two thousand five hundred; so that out of every twelve parishioners, eleven were absolutely shut out of the house of God. The trustees of the parish, and H. Majesty's Commis- sioners alike concurred in the opinion that one church, in a parish spreading over so wide a surface, would be compara- tively useless, and that three were absolutely required. This would involve an expense of 30,000Z. at the very least. But if the parishioners would find the sites, and advance 12,000Z., H. Majesty's Commissioners would take all further responsi- bility upon themselves, and complete the whole work. This 12,000Z. might be first raised, and then eventually extin- guished, by a rate of three pence in the pound, which would only require from the great bulk of the parishioners, on an average, a payment of three or four shillings per annum — and that not from each individual, but from each family inhabiting a dwelling-house. Under certain contingencies, even this might be lessened, but it could not possibly be exceeded. And thus at so small a sacrifice, and no subsequent risk, the whole pjarish might be provided with church accommodation for years to come. The letter ended as follows : — ' To conclude : let me entreat the prayers of my parishioners to Almight}^ God, the Author of all good, that such a soundness of judgment, and such a temper of peace and charity, may prevail throughout the consideration of this great question ; that it may be crowned, if it should seem right and fit, with the desired success : but that at all events, it may prove an occasion, not of heat and contention, but of goodwill and kindness and conciliation between all the remotest inhabitants of this vast and important parish.' Such an appeal, so ably reasoned and so strongly urged, commended itself to all. It proved irresistible ; and prepared the way for a full discussion in vestr}^ five days after it had been issued. 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 243 Upon one of the circulars, however, there are a few words written which may well be noted before the result is told. It is the " Circular," sent at the time b}^ the vicar to his son, and still preserved. All round the margins of the printed page, these words are written : — ' The affair of our new churches is of such immense impor- tance that I send you this letter. What the event may be, I know not. The preliminary meeting at my house was unani- mous. But a vestry of two thousand people is a totally different thing. I send you this paper (of which four thousand will be circulated in the parish)< first to engage your pra3'ers for us; secondly, as a memorial in future years of what was intended to be done, supposing the design should be defeated ; thirdly, as a pledge of gratitude and praise to God, if success crowns our efforts ; and lastly, that I may solemnly and affec- tionately charge it upon you, that if these chapels, or an}^ of them, should be built, and the appointment of them should ever come into your hands, you may appoint men of decided evangelical piety, clear views of the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, meek tempers, and diligent self-denying habits : men who understand, and feel, and act, upon the doctrines of our thirty-nine articles and homilies, and preach them like Arch- bishop Leighton, or Joseph Milner. ' I am, your affectionate father, 'D. Wilson.' It is not to be supposed that matters had been brought to the state described in the Circular, without immense labour and anxious thought. Consultations and discussions of all kinds had abounded. The breakfast-room, the parlour, the study, the pulpit, each had been called to play its part. Pre- liminary interviews with the Church Commissioners, long con- ferences with the trustees, friendh^ conversations with influ- ential parishioners, animated exhortations to the congregation : — all had been repeatedly and successfully tried. Above all, the help of God had been constantly and earnestly sought; prayer rose without ceasing ; and the promise that if " two or three shall agree upon earth touching what they shall ask, it R 2 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOX. [chap. X. shall be done for them of my Father in heaven," was abund- antly^ fulfilled. As an illustration of this, it may be mentioned, that whilst all was jet in doubt, the vicar went down to the vestry of St. John's Chapel to meet his brethren of the Eclectic Society, and he addressed them in these words : — ' Dear brethren, pray for me. I am going to build three churches in my parish, and there are many adversaries.' This opening led to much discussion at the meeting, and to many differences of opinion. Some doubted whether he was acting wisely, and asked, "Might not the money be used in some better way ? Who could tell into whose hands these churches might one day fall? It was not cages that were wanted, so much as good singing-birds." But nothing moved him. He said, that building houses for God in the land was in itself a right thing ; that the issue of events must be left with God ; that we must " trust and not be afraid ; " that the means appointed must be used ; and that if the machinery was defective, it must not be neglected, but improved. Thus faith reproved fear ; and in the result these churches have proved seed-plots of a noble harvest. Fifteen have already risen; and of Islington it may indeed be said, as of Zion in former days, " This and that man was born in her." (Psalm Ixxxvii. 4.) The Bishop of London, Dr. Howley, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, was deeply interested in the success of the proposal. Two days before the vestry meeting was held to consider it, he wrote as follows : — * London House, May 10, 1825. ' You have acted with so much discretion, as well as zeal, that, with the blessing of God, you can, I think, hardly fail to succeed ; and should you carry your point, I shall exert all my power to induce the Commissioners to see your claims in as strong a light as I do.' The anticipations thus expressed, were borne out by the result. The parish assembled in vestry on May 12th, and 1824—32.] ISLINGTO^^'. 245 no opposition was raised. The plan proposed was unanimously adopted. Another Yestr}^ however, v/as necessar}^ to confirm the vote ; and then difficulties were started, and a few expressed themselves aggrieved. Still, large majorities confirmed what had been done, and the first step was definitive!}' gained. There was now vantage-ground for an official application to the Church Commissioners ; and after some dela3's had been experienced, and personal influence used in all directions, the consideration of the case came on before tlie Board, was fully discussed, and eventually conceded*: — the Commissioners forth- with would build the churches. The vicar's own account is curious, as well as interesting: — 'Islington, May 25, 1825. ' Surely praise should follow prayer. Yesterday our great undertaking succeeded. The two archbishops, and twenty or more bishops and noblemen condescended to our petition, and Three Churches, to contain five thousand souls, are to be immediately built. The intense curiosity with which my person was surveyed by the Episcopal Commissioners is more than I can describe ; and my own nervousness in answering to a thousand questions, and undergoing an hour's examination before such a Board, almost deprived me of the presence of mind necessary for such a conjuncture. ' To God I ascribe the whole success. I am " like unto them that dream." A parish of thirty thousand people, in confusion and ill-will, and determined against any more new churches as long as they lived (we are paying 23o4Z. annually for our Chapel of Ease), brought round to vote almost unanimously the sum of 12,000L ; and this pittance accepted by the Commissioners, for chapels that will cost them 35,000^., and would have cost the bungling managers of a parish, 70,000/. : this is " the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes." Let May 12th and May 24th be marked for ever in my calendar as jubilee days.' A thousand matters of detail immediately followed this great success : the selection of suitable sites, the investigation of titles, the choice of architects, and arrangements of all kinds 246 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. with the Commissioners. In these things he was greatly assisted by the kindness, skill, and business-like habits of some of his leading parishioners ; but still the burden fell heavily on him, and is referred to in the following letter : — 'July 25, 1825. ' I perceive you know but little about the detail of building churches, or you would not think my time of rest was yet arrived. Our great struggle was, to introduce, not to finish, our series of labours. Every step of the progress demands the same vigilant spirit of prayer and holy fear, as the first did. One false movement might still ruin the whole. Thus God keeps his servants dependent upon Him, and so disposes of things, that His own name may be glorified. Through His goodness all is as yet going on most prosperously. I trust " Peace and Truth " will be preserved amongst us.' The autumn of 1825 afforded some respite, and was passed chiefly at Cheltenham and Worton ; and he returned with his family to Islington with spirits refreshed and health renewed. On November 12th, he writes : — ' I am wonderfully well for me. In fact, I have been better the last seven weeks than I have been for years. The calls upon me since I came home have been incessant ; and yet I have been able to preach at church every Sunday. The attention at church is intense. I trust and believe good is doing. The seed must have time to lie in the ground before it springs up. Oh ! may the heavenly Husbandman make " the ground " into which it falls, " good." I begin now to find, what I thought I was prepared for, checks and obstacles in my great Church affairs. It is astonishing how little one is practically prepared to meet disappointments. Theory and practice are not necessarily connected in our disordered hearts.' At the close of the year he was happy in obtaining the services of an invaluable man for a second curate. The name of Mr. ]\Iarbhall has already been mentioned as the senior 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 217 curate. He suited the vicar Y\ell, and ^Yas his confidential friend and adviser to the end. What was wanting in Mr. Marshall, however, Mr. Hambleton now supplied ; and nothing Avas left to be desired for the efficient working of the parish. All was at once set in motion. The parochial schools, as then existing, were to a great extent independent of the clergy. They were maintained by the parish, and managed by a com- mittee, who were somewhat tenacious of their rights ; so that, when the curates, almost as a matter of course, attended an early committee meeting, they were informed that when they were wanted they would be sent for. The vicar was quiescent in the matter. Careful to maintain his own rights, he was equally careful not to infringe upon the ascertained rights of others. Whenever the attendance of the children, therefore, was required at chiu'ch for any extra service, or when any alteration was proposed in the system of catechising in the afternoon, he always corresponded upon the subject with the school authorities, and the matter was mutually arranged. Many " local Sunday-schools," also, as they were called, were immediately set on foot. For this purpose, the poorest parts of the parish were selected, temporary rooms obtained, voluntary teachers enlisted, lending libraries formed, and special funds raised, all on the system recommended by Dr. Chalmers. Nine were begun at once, and they soon increased to fifteen, and were visited by the vicar and examined in rotation. Good trees grew from these vigorous shoots, and still continue in many cases to bring forth much fruit. The year 1826 was ushered in by a Pastoral Address, in which the vicar inculcated upon all, most affectionately, the duty of family prayer and the due observance of the Lord's Day, and made some apposite remarks upon the financial crisis then desolating the metropolis. The weather soon after became very severe, and the poor suffered greatly. A prompt appeal was made b}^ the vicar, and the congregation at St. Mary's readily responded by a collection of 100/., an amount unknown in Islington before that day, and approaching to what had been usual at St. John's. The amount then contributed formed the nucleus of a " Benevolent Fund," which was doubly 248 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOK. [chap. X. blessed ; in opening first the hands of the rich, and then the hearts of the poor. In after years this expanded into " District Visiting Societies," operating over the whole parish. Hitherto all had gone well; and "peace and truth," in accord- ance with the vicar's desire and prayer, prevailed. But now clouds began to gather. The afternoon lectureship has been already mentioned, as something independent of the vicar, and it w^as around this the storm broke forth. The lectureship was not, strictly speaking, endowed ; but it was customary to send round a collector every year, and each parishioner subscribed what he pleased. The amount of course was variable ; but it generally averaged lOOZ. a-year ; and since no duty in the week was required, the appointment was deemed, in many respects, an eligible one. At this time, it was held by the Eev. Mr. Denham ; and on the rumour of his intended resignation, the whole question was opened. It was not at first intended to interfere with the right of election claimed by the parishioners ; and on January 80th, Mr. Marshall, the senior curate, issued a circular, in antici- pation of the vacancy, soliciting their votes. This step was, perhaps, hastened by the announcement, that the curate of the late Dr. Strahan, intended to offer himself as a candidate. The circular, at all events, proved to be premature ; for before any further steps could be taken, the vicar deemed it right to interpose ; and by a public letter, dated Feb. 4th, announced his purpose, in the event of a vacancy really taking place, to provide, himself, for the performance of the afternoon service. This purpose he confirmed on Feb. 13th, when called upon to reply to an address presented to him on the subject by some of his parishioners. That he had the right on his side admits now of no question. The claim of the parishioners had no legal foundation ; it did not even rest on immemorial usage. The origin of the lecture- ship was, in fact, recorded in their own parish books. It appeared from them, that Dr. Cave, then an old man, and the Vicar of Islington, complained that the performance of divine services pressed heavily upon him. The vestry took the matter into consideration, and resolved in tlie first instance to 1821-32.] ISLINGTON. 249 provide him witli " a reader," and then with " such parson or parsons as he might think fit to assist him." A lectureship, thus originated, coukl not possihly invalidate the rights of the vicar : but the assertion of them in the present instance, caused a wide-spread agitation which lasted for five months. At the first vestry which met to consider the subject, the vicar, having entered his protest against any encroachment upon rights appertaining to himself alone, agreed to be guided by the law of the question ; and j^'omised, that if the appoint- ment was legally vested in the parishioners, he would not withhold his pulpit from the man of their choice. The vestry agreed to this ; but when the vacancy really occurred, many of them seemed to forget their agTeement. Another vestry was summoned, and a motion was made to exercise the right claimed, and proceed at once to the appointment of a lecturer. This was negatived, however, by a majority of sixty or seventy ; and it was determined to adjom^n till the opinion of Dr. Lushington had been given. The adjourned meeting was held on July l;3th ; and it was final. Dr. Lushington declared that in the present case, the claims of the parishioners could not be sustained, and that the vicar had the right to perform, if he pleased, all required duties in his own church. It was therefore moved in vestry that this opinion should be entered on the books, and all fm^ther action cease. Amidst much confusion, and many amendments, and attempts at adjournment, the majority stood firm ; and at midnight the resolution was carried, and the contest terminated. This is but the outline of what took place. To be life-like, it would have to be filled up with angry countenances, stormy meetings, placarded walls, and all the usual concomitants of a parish in an uproar. But why recall the " bitterness, and wrath, and clamour, and evil speaking," too prevalent on such occasions ? Surely, after a lapse of years, when the combatants have for the most part passed away, it is better forgotten and buried with them in the grave. The vicar had been well supported throughout the contest, by his bishop, his friends, and a majority of his parishioners : and though his resolution had not failed, yet he had been much 250 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. ' [ciiap. x. cast down. The tone of his letters at the time, proves this. On July 18th, he writes thus to a friend : — ' Your affectionate and delightful letter found me in the lowest depression imaginable of spirits and feelings. The large blessings of success about my three churches (blessings which will extend, I trust, to ages yet unborn,) required a counterbalancing event or two. I am in much perplexity. I know all is right. 1 endeavour to submit and abase my soul. I search, or try to search out my ways and turn again to the Lord. And yet I feel. My mind sinks. I am depressed and feeble, and sore smitten, and have cried out because of the disquietude of my heart. The charge of so many souls who are injured, prejudiced, estranged from the means of grace by these disturbances, w^eighs uj)on my mind. To preach calmly and simply, with an agitated frame of body and mind, is no easy matter. Then, these tumults are new to me. I have no skill as a chairman, a lawyer, or an orator; and all these qualifications are necessary to the vicar of such a parish. * But I turn from the dark side of the picture, and view the brighter scene. Then I see God directing, permitting, sancti- fying; then I see sin, error, self-confidence, a secular spirit, ambition, chastened and reproved; then I see the Gospel commended and honoured by the spirit in which opposition is borne ; then I see God's mysterious ways of making the wrath of man to praise Him ; and then I see that the ordinary concomitants of extensive good to souls, is the tumultuating of Satan's kingdom. But I must and will close my " book of Lamentations." Write to me again, and tell me how I am to walk amongst my numerous people so as most to please and honour God. Oh ! what a consolation to think of a suffering Saviour leading us on through the trials of this life, to the rest of the next. His love demands and deserves every little sacrifice we can make. He has brought us to be his own. He calls us to follow him to his kingdom. He leaves us his Spirit as the Comforter of the heart, during his absence. He promises to come again and receive us to himself. He assures us that all things work together for our good. Farewell.' 1824—32.] ISLIXGTOX. 251 These contests seem to have forced upon the vicar's mind the great importance of drawing more of his respectable and influential parishioners to take part in parochial matters. They had naturally shrunk back from such stormy scenes as have been referred to, and the result was, that the management of affairs had fallen into the hands of a body, who were fond of meeting at public-houses, and there^learning each other's views, and discussing each other's plans, before they were brought forward. To free the parish from this self-imposed bondage, and to call forth the energies of men of respectability, and above all of piety, was a most important object, and one to which the vicar's attention was now much turned. One instance will illustrate the course he pursued, and prove his persuasive influence over the ixdnds of others. He desii'ed to secure the services of a gentleman whose scientific attainments, courteous bearing, calmness of temperament, and general ability, rendered his aid valuable. With this object in view, he called upon him one morning, and said : — * I am anxious to induce the gentry of the parish, and especially those who value true religion, to take part in the management of its concerns habitually. Will you consent to be nominated as a trustee and come forward and help us ? ' ' I cannot think of it,' was the I'e-ply. ' I am a man of peace. I have my pm-suits, which are pleasant to myself, and I hope, in some respects profitable to others. I am always read}^ to take my part in educational matters, and in religious associations, but from parish matters I shiink.' ' But I wish,' said the vicar, ' to urge upon you the importance of exerting your influence on the side of order, and supporting the church and your vicar.' ' And I should be glad indeed to do so. But pai'ish business, in my view, would involve a loss of self-respect. I must decline all part in it.' ' But, my dear friend, do you not believe that one day you will have to render an account to God of all the means of influence placed at your disposal, and of all the talents com- mitted to your charge ? ' 26:1 THE LIFE OF DA^'IEL WILSON. [chap. X. * Certainly ; but this is foreign to my habits, and distasteful to my feelings.' ' Ah ! but remember, my friend, that we are called upon to "deny ourselves," to "take up our cross," to "run with patience the race set before us." ' * True ; very true.' * Are you, then — are any of us the best judges of what is the path for us to walk in ? It is not always the easy path which is the right one ; it is not always when we please ourselves that we best please God. Better follow duty Avhen it calls ; and you will secure God's blessing.' The result may be anticipated. The cross was taken up, duty efficiently performed, good service rendered, a useful example set, and the great object gained. But a reference to matters of a more personal and domestic character will relieve the reader, and change the scene. The summer and autumn of this year, were spent in retirement with his family at Guildford ; and that his reminiscences of it were pleasant, may be gathered from his own words, addressed to his daughter on an occasion which will soon require notice. ' I shall ever remember the family comforts which we enjoyed during a residence of six weeks in a house which we hired at Guildford for the benefit of our children's health. Your mamma w^as tolerably well ; a pious clergyman in the parish church, delighted and edified her by his discourses ; the house was just out of the town, and situated most beautifully; a few excellent friends made the neighbourhood agreeable ; and the vicinity to London allowed of my going backwards and forwards for my Sunday duties. Your dear mamma has frequently wallied up and down the garden, expressing her thankfulness to God for his goodness, praising Him for the health of the children, and saying, " No one can tell how I enjoy a walk thus quiet and retired, with my dearest husband in such a delightful spot." ' The family left Guildford in the month of October and 1824-32.] ISLINGTO^^-. 253 removed to Clifton for the winter, and after spending a few weeks with them, the vicar retui'ned alone to Islington for his Christmas duties. Long letters, containing the proceedings of each successive day, were regularly written, "to be read," he says, "as if I was talking with you after dinner." From these letters the following notes are taken. No words could convey more briefly, more vividly, or more accurately, the nature and extent of his work at Islington. 'January 7, 1827. ' We have had a delightful Sunday, and much I trust of the presence of our God. Our Epiphany sermon in the morning, w^as from Isaiah Ivii. 19, thirty-seven minutes, a crowded church and great attention. Communicants 238, being thirty-four more than last January, collection 11 Z. It was like St. John's ! In the afternoon I addressed my young people from Psalm, cxix. 0, forty-nine minutes, church filled with children and young per- sons, so that I could scarcely breathe, fixed attention. !May God our Saviour give His blessing ! ' * Monday evening. ' Mr. Pownall and Mr. Bainbridge told me to-day that I was given out to preach at St. John's next Sunday morning. Mr. Baptist Noel began there yesterday, two very good sermons, much promise.' ' Tuesday evening. * At 12 o'clock this morning I went to attend Doctor Mason Good's funeral. Mr. Jerram has agi'eed to preach the funeral sermon. The interment was at St. Pancras. The spacious vaults illuminated with dull lamps had a solemn effect. The coffin was thrust on a tier of others. Such is the end of man as to this mortal body. Thank God, all testimonies concur in the rapid growth of spiritual life and love in his soul. 'A gentleman has sent to me from Halifax to see if I can in- fluence Lord Liverpool about the living. Mr. Knight the vicar died on Sunday. There are 90,000 souls, and thirteen or four- teen chapelries. The living, happily for this object, is a poor one. Mr. Knight was a very pious, laborious man.' * Wednesday. ' Here I am, detained by a most thorough rainy morning, with twenty-three names on my list to call on.' 251 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. ' Friday. *Mr Borrows of Clapham came to breakfast this morning. Mr. Blunt of Chelsea, who declined Cheltenham new church, has received a present from his people of 250Z., with a request to preach Lent lectures this spring. Just the gracious com- pensation of a kind Providence for faithfulness to duty ! Called on Mr. , and had a long conversation with him about his daughter. His mind, dark, prejudiced, and irritated. I said all I could to convince him, but God onl}^ can open the heart. There is a reality in spiritual religion which appears folly and enthusiasm to the world. " Oh, righteous Father," said our blessed Lord, " the world knoweth Thee not." ' ' Sunday night. * I have got through a difficult and trjdng day. Two charity sermons and each on particular topics. St. John's was exces- sively crowded. I preached from 1 St. John iv. 7, 8, 9, with vast delight, 50 minutes, very attentive. I commended their new minister to their love. John Bird Sumner was there, which would have made me nervous if I had known it. I think him one of the first men of his day. I trust God was with us. I have had a crowded church this afternoon for my sermon to Parents and Masters. Oh ! that I may practise what I preach, more and more.' ' Monday, January 15th. ' I have to go to the Bible Society Committee at twelve o'clock, to Mr. C. Bridges at three, to the Eclectic at four, to Miss Cecil's at seven. To-morrow, Church Missionary visiting committee at eleven o'clock ; Mr. A. Wilkinson's, to dine at four. Wednesday, Mr. Grant's at four o'clock; Mr. Natt's, to dine at five. Friday, to Walthamstow in the morning, to a baptism in the evening. Saturday, the Duke of York's funeral sermon. Sunday, the chapel of ease in the morning and sermon to servants in the parish church in the afternoon. On Monday I propose to start for dear Clifton, whither may God bring me in peace. I long to see you all again.' * Islington, Sunday evening, March IZth. * Another blessed Sabbath bids me record my thanksgivings 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 255 to a gracious God. The church was so crowded this morning, that Farley says four hundred persons went away. Subject, The sin of our first parents. On Friday last it was the first lecture on the Creed. Oh ! for more impression on my o^vn heart. I heard i\[r. Woolff twice, an(f travelled with him from Oxford to Eeading. There was a great crowd to hear him at both places, I was both pleased and edified.' ' Monday morning. ' My excursion by Reading was curious. I met Marsh, Hawtrey, and some other friends, at John Hill's at Oxford on Wednesday. They urged me so much to take the Eeading Meeting on my return, that I consented. I left the Hills with Mr. Woolff at seven o'clock, breakfasted with about twenty brethren at Basildon (10 miles), attended the Jews Meeting at twelve o'clock, dined at five, set off for London with Marsh and Hawtrey at six, took tea at Salt Hill at eight, and was landed by them at my own door about twelve. The Vice- Chancellor has requested me to preach the Assize Sermon before the Judges in July. This is important, as taking off the ban which I was under, since the refusal to allow my sermon on Regene- ration to be printed at the University press.' ' Monday. ' I am just returned from a six hours parish walk. I have been breakfasting with Mr. Ayre, where I met Bickersteth and Irving — the last I liked amazingly. I then accompanied them to church to stand godfather to Mr. Ayre's son.' 'Tuesday morning. 'I drank tea last night with Mr. and Mrs. Jeaffreson and their twelve children, all of whom are well. They are the finest family I almost ever saw. My mother and sister went with me, and with the four servants at prayers we made twenty. I after- wards spent an hour with dear Bickersteth, to talk over the appointments to my new churches. At ten o'clock this morning I had our Missionary and Jews Meeting. There were about sixty ladies present. I reported the state of the "local schools " — nine schools and 256 children. I also mentioned the Visiting Society. We sang two psalms; all was most 256 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOX. [chap, x* delightful. ^ At six o'clock I went and made visits, and returned home about nine.' * Wednesday. 'I went at 11 o'clock this morning to hear the Bishop of Chester (Dr. Blomfield). It was a most excellent and spiritual sermon, on the Martyrdom of St. Stephen — tender and energetic. I called afterwards on Mr. Scholl, and went on to Lord Galway's in Lower Brook Street — very kind — wants us all to go down to Serlby for a long visit this summer. I went on, and saw dear Miss Monckton for a few minutes, sat half-an-hour with the Misses Powys, and then went to my nephew, Henry Bateman, to consecrate his new house.' ^Thursday morning. ' There is a most curious list in to-day's paper of those present at the Bishop of Chester's sermon. It is strange that I did not see one of the many persons so named. I am advised to build a library at the side of my house, but I must wait and think over it. I am so tired of houses and building, and I see the end of life so near, that I am quite eas}^ and indifferent about a house in this world. May the " house not made with hands " be ours. To-night my sister comes in to prepare tea and coffee, for fifty gentlemen. Monday is the Eclectic, Tuesday I go to Hampstead, Wednesday is our Annual Clerical Education Society Meeting. Pray for me, for I need daily blessing and grace.' * Wednesday, March, 2Bth. ' We have had a most charming meeting of our Clerical Education Society ; the best we ever had, though our number was small — about forty. The Bishop of Lichfield, Lord Teignmouth, Sir E. H. Inglis, Cunningham, the Noels, Sibthorpe, and others. The spirit was delightful. We had extra- ordinary comfort in the communion of saints. Pieally these little meetings are most cheering. One gentleman gave us one hundred guineas.' * March 29th. ' Sir C. S. Hunter was at the meeting yesterday, and most kindly undertook to be my conductor at Easter, when I preach before the Lord Mayor, and dine at the Mansion House. You 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 257 may imagine what a relief this is to my mind. I dined at four o'clock with poor Mrs. G . At six o'clock, I left for Highbury where I called on Mrs. Holbers, and then drank tea with the AVormald's, who delighted and interested me extremely. I had a tremendous walk home, through a fierce storm of wind and rain. This morning at 11 o'clock I went to the conse- cration of Hagglestone Church in the Parish of Shoreditch. Archdeacon Pott preached a pious, useful sermon. It was just four o'clock when I got home, very tired. I sat almost all the day with Mr. Norris of Hackney. He told me three things, which gave me vast pleasure — that the confirmation begins April 30th, that Islington is one of the churches in which it will be held, and that the end of May or beginning of June is fixed for us. What delights me is, that instead of going to Hackney, which was usual, the Bishop will come to our parish church. I look upon this as an immense blessing. We shall have, I doubt not, three times the number of young people. ;May the Holy Spirit be poured out abundantly upon all classes of my dear parishioners, and upon ourselves.' * Sunday evening. * A most fatiguing day, for the Bishop's letter about the Confirmation came on Saturday, and I read the notice, and took the Communion Service myself. My curates and I spent two hours on Saturday in consultation and prayer on the means of making every use of this great occasion. I finished, this morning, my little course of sermons on the Fall of Man," from Gen. vi. 5, 0. I hope it has been the most useful topic I have yet touched. The crowds and attention have been surprising. ]\Iay God give the increase ! There were two hundred and two communicants. God has carried me through the day. My mind is full of thought and prayer. Divine Saviour ! Grant us thy Holy Spiiit more and more.' ' Monday morning, 9 o'clock. *I have been breakfasting at 7-30, have had prayers, and settled all my accounts. And now before I enter on the hurries of the day, I write a few lines to you, my son Daniel. The account of your dear mamma much distresses me. I am VOL, I. s 258 THE LIFE OP DANIEL WILSOIT. [1824—32. quite anxious to have j^ou all back as soon as possible after the first of May. My own visit is very uncertain, now that the Confirmation is fixed for May 21st. I mean to come down, if possible, for a few days, but shall neither preach nor visit any where. I am determined to be quiet, and comfort my own dear famil}', if I do come.' ^Monday night, 11 d'cIocJc, p.m. * I am just returned from Miss Monckton's, where at dinner I met ]\Ir. Sandford, Captain Gambler, Mr. and Mrs. Dore, all pious persons. The conversation w^as really most delightful. We had prayers, and I expounded for twenty minutes part of the Prophet Isaiah. But I had nothing save a hard biscuit from eight o'clock in the morning, and was quite famished. I meant to have had luncheon, but for three hours I was cooped up in the Bible Society Committee room, grieved, distressed, afilicted, with the spirit of a few men. The only good I got was the frank which encloses this.' ' Friday morning. 'I have had a delightful night's rest, enjoyed my Hebrew chap- ter, breakfasted, read my section of Shepherd's incomparable work on " Private Devotion," had family prayers, and am now setting to work on my Confirmation duties. Mr. Marshall and I have called on Mr. Oldershaw, the vestry clerk. Nothing could be more good-tempered. He expects a great contest in the parish on Easter Monday. Mr. Percival junior is to be in the chair. The church -wardens are not settled. Mr. John Cattley and Mr. Middleton have been thought of. I am satisfied it is better I should not be there. I have been also to the Society for Promoting Christian knowledge, where I met a good many friends, and reported my opinion on a book which had been referred to me. I warmly approved of it. I saw Mr. Hodson of Birmingham. He walked away with me, and we have had an hour's friendly chat.' In the midst of all these busy scenes, a heavy trial was approaching — ^the heaviest trial of his life. It was impossible to allude to it in the earlier chapters of this w^ork, where his " Family Life " was briefly touched upon, for the impression 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 259 would have been too deep, and it would have been in vain to ask the reader afterwards to realise him as a happy husband, and surrounded for many years with all the comforts of a cheerful home. This is the place to tell how God visited him, and took away the companion of his youth, and the affectionate counsellor of his riper years. The details now to be given are taken from an account drawn up by himself (to which reference has been already made), for the benefit of his only daughter, then too young to be able to appreciate her mother's admirable qualities. It is in manuscript, and was written whilst his grief was yet fresh, and every impression of the closing scene most vivid. For some years Mrs. Wilson had been an invalid, and most probably a great sufferer. But she never complained, and no particular apprehensions were excited till about the month of April, 1827. Her husband's engagements have been just described, and they occupied him so entirely, that, as he says, he " was, perhaps, less quick in taking alarm than he should otherwise have been." But immediately after his Lent Lectm^es were delivered, and his Easter sermon preached, he hastened down to Chfton to judge for him- self. He was received joyfully, and the excitement which followed, went far to allay his apprehensions. But this was merely temporary. The vital powers were failing, and medical skill was unavailing for their restoration. A return home was the only remedy : and this was accomplished in easy stages by means of an invalid carriage. She thus arrived in Islington on the first of May, and was borne by her husband and the attendant to that couch from which she was to rise no more. Home inspires hope : but in her case complicated maladies pressed heavily upon the springs of life, and the frail body was weighed down with languor and weariness. Her soul however sought refuge in God, and turned at once to the work of self- examination. That peculiar earnestness of purpose, that lowliness of mind and distrust of self, that reliance upon Christ, and patient submission to the will of God which had characterised her through life, were manifested in the hour of death. In the stillness of that first night — her husband being s 2 260 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. the only watcher — she was heard communing with God and her own soul : — " Perhaps I am dying. Am I prepared ? I know I am a sinner : but I know that Christ is an Almighty Saviour. He can save the vilest, the vilest, the vilest. Oh, Lord ! prepare me for all Thy will. I do desire to say, Not my will, but Thine be done. Oh, Lord, what are my sufferings compared with Thine ! Oh, give me resignation, and prepare me for glory. Oh, take me to glory. Delightful ! Eeceive me to glory. But, Thy will be done." The progress of disease was gradual, and for three days she was able to express her wishes, and make such family arrange- ments as she desired ; all having reference to her children. But on Sunday, May 6th, a change took place, and pressure on the brain seemed to threaten insensibility, and forebode death. The slightest noise gave pain ; but prayer seemed ever rising from the heart, and murmuring on the lips. The medical man entered her room : she started and looked surprised, " I thought I was dying," she said, " but God's will be done : that is all my desire." Early in the morning of May 7th, her husband entered the room, and standing by the bedside, bent over her in silent sympathy. She opened her eyes, and recognised him at once. All the tenderness of her early love seemed to gush forth. She lifted up her wasted hands, stroked gently and repeatedly each side of his face, and whispered, " Dearest creature : " adding, " do not excite me ; say something to calm me." With tearful eye and quivering lip he named that name which is above every name — " Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever." It found a response in the heart, " That is beautiful," she said. To her sister-in-law, who was soon after at her side, she said, " Perhaps I may not be alive long." " And if not," was the reply, " you will be in Heaven," " Ah, yes," she said, "that will be far better." Her thoughts still clung to her children with the tenderest 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 26] love. Their temporal and eternal welfare was very near her heart ; and when all was silent in the roomf her voice was often heard ascending up to Heaven in earnest supi;)lications on their behalf. "My dearest love," said her husband, on coming in, "you will soon be with Jesus." " To see Him : " was her brief but weighty answer. Soon the power of articulation began to fail, and the notice of external things to lessen. All stood around the bed ; husband, children, sister, servants. She noticed no external thing, but still held communion with her God. " Lord have mercy on my soul ! Succour me in Jesus Christ. In sickness and in dying, oh, succour and save. Lord, let me enjoy Thy presence for evermore. I have no merits in myself, but my reliance is on Christ. Lord, save me in Christ Jesus. I do love Him. Though I am a sinner, save me for His sake." These were the last connected words. A few fragments only of love and piety could afterwards be gathered. " Lord, teach submission : " — " no more sin : " — " sing with joy : " — " dear John : " — " dear Dan : " — " resignation : " — " Saviour ! " Till the afternoon of Tliursday, death lingered, and on that day, May 10th, at one o'clock, she ceased to breathe, and her spirit returned to that Father who gave, and that Saviour who redeemed it. She slept in Jesus : whilst fiiends knelt round her bed, weeping, yet sorrowing " not as others who have no hope." She was interred in the family vault under the parish church of Islington. The funeral sermon was preached by the Dean of Salisbury : and then the bereaved hu^and set out once more on the journey of life, a solitary and widowed man. He had lost one who had been a help-meet for him ; his coimsellor in difficulties ; his comforter in sorrows ; his nurse in sickness. He never ceased to think of her with true affection, nor to speak of her with tender regi-et : — " Indeed, it is all true," was the expression of lils first letter 262 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. after the event : " I have lost the companion of my youth, the partner of my joys and sorrows, the mother of my children, the guide of my Christian course. My sorrows flow deeply, and must flow, so long as I remain behind. But I hope I do not murmur. I hope I desire to say, ' Not my will, but thine be done.' I hope I am grateful for four-and-twenty years of peace, and union, and comfort. I hope I bless God for the delightful testimony to her Saviour which she bore in life and death." But we must not linger at the grave. God's purposes in the aSliction may not be clearly seen ; but it looks like the loosen- ing of a tie which might have held him in England, and prevented twenty-five years service to the Church in India. We are, however, sure that all things work together for good to those that love God : and that the " thorn in the flesh," brings the " grace suflicient." Mr. Wilson was not prostrated by the stroke, as some men would have been. His heart was sad, but duty called, and he at once obeyed ; and thus his mind recovered rapidly its accustomed tone. The Confirmation had been going on in his parish, and more than seven hundred young persons had renewed the vows of their Baptism on that occasion ; and it was now his anxious concern to prepare them for the full communion of the Chm'ch in the Lord's Supper. He preached a sermon on the subject, and invited them to come to him for previous instruction. They responded to his invitation, and came in large numbers. Writing to a friend on June 9th, he says : — * I have been very busy this week. The young people have come in quite as fast as I could expect, considering the solemnity of the engagement, and the difiiculty young persons feel at coming to a minister. We have had about one hundred and eighty ; which will soon be increased, no doubt, to about three hundred before the Communion days. There is a great impression on all minds. Most of those who come to me are in tears, and a spirit of inquiry is diffused throughout the parish.' 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 263 After preaching before the Judges at Oxford, on July 26th, he retired into the country for fest; and his house was given up into the hands of the workmen. Ever since his accession to the living he had been endeavouring to arrange for the purchase or erection of a suitable vicarage, but without success. He now abandoned the idea, and con- tented himself with enlarging his present house, and adding to it a magnificent library thirty-five feet long, twelve feet wide, and sixteen feet high. When finished, this library was his delight. Ten thousand volumes covered the walls in double rows, and he sat in the midst, presenting a striking contrast to the time when he shared one little room with a brother curate, at Chobham, and had a few books scattered on the floor below and the bed above. The picture of him as seated in this library will be familiar to surviving friends. They will remember the few winding stairs leading downwards, and affording the first glance of him, seated at the table by the fire- side, immersed in papers, and " diligent in business." They will recal the hand, writing till the very last moment, the uplifted face, the troubled look brightening into a smile, the hasty rise, the kindly greeting, the chair turned round, the fire stirred, and the pleasant converse at once begun ; or else the face retaining still its impression of thought, the mind refusing to relax and throw off its occupation, the standing welcome, the pen retained, the excuse pleaded, the business hurried over or postponed, the not unwillmg farewell, and the chair resumed before the baffled visitor had closed the door. Both these pictures will rise alternately in the minds of friends, and be associated with the room where so many of his hours were passed in study, where his family assembled for daily prayers, where his own morning and evening devotions were held, where friends joined in conference, where his annual Clerical Meetings gradually swelled in numbers and importance with every returning year, where his district visitors and missionary col- lectors were received, where his farewell breakfast parties were given, and from whence through the opened windows he was wont to seek a few minutes' air and exercise in the garden in the intervals of his work. Alas ! the place that once knew him, will know him no more for ever. His portrait still remains, as 264 THE LIFE OP DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. painted by Phillips, and engraved for the frontispiece of this volume. But he lives in his son; and his name will be held in " everlasting remembrance." When these alterations were finished, and before the year 1827 had closed, he invited his mother and sister to make his house their home : thus lightening his cares, and cheering that solitude which, during the absence of his sons at college and his daughter at school, would soon have become oppressive. Here, sheltered by his roof, comforted by his presence, and refreshed by spiritual intercourse with him, his aged mother spent her last days in contentment and tranquillity. Nor were they prolonged. On the 3rd June, 1829, she departed this life, without a care and without a fear ; only desiring to be with Christ, as something "far better." Her intellect was clear, and her affections strong till the last illness, and then ■ her " end was peace." The year 1828 found the vicar thoroughly engaged in parochial duties. There were now three full services in the church on Sundays and great festival days, and one in the week ; besides morning prayers on Wednesdays and Fridays, and Saint's days. An early sacrament at eight o'clock, in addi- tion to the usual celebration, had been also commenced ; and the occasional duties were very heavy. A large proportion of these were, of course, discharged by his curates, but the vicar at this time preached regularly three times a week, and in addition to many public calls, was occupied in various matters of local importance. In the early part of the year he was invited by a requisition, bearing the names of an hundred and twenty parishioners, to preside at a public meeting for the formation of a " Mutual Assurance Society." He willingly complied with the request, and a Society was formed in the month of February, which though it promised well, did not take root. In April, and for many months afterwards, he was much occupied in endeavouring to change the day on which Smith - field Marljet was held, and which interfered with the sanctity of the Lord's Day in his parish ; but his efforts were unsuc- cessful. In the month of May he established the Ishngton Association for the Church Missionary Society, which, at first 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 265 a small stream, now pours into the reservoir of the Parent Society nearly one -fiftieth part of their wlfole supply. But the chief point of importance which engaged and interested him during this and the following year, was the completion and consecration of his three new churches. Mr. Barry, now the distmguished Sir Charles Barry, had been appointed sole architect, and under his skilful management, all had progressed satisfactorily. St. John's Church, Holloway, was the first completed. It had one thousand seven hundred and eighty- two sittings, of which seven hundred and fifty were free. The site had been given by the Corporation for the Belief of the Widows and Orphans of Clergymen, to whom it belonged. The total cost of the church was 11,8902. The first stone was laid with much ceremony on May 4th, 1826. The Archbishop of Canterbury was present, with the Bishops of London and St. Asaph, the Lord Mayor, and a large body of clergy. A long procession wound its way from the parish church, where divine service had been celebrated, to Holloway, accompanied by a great display of banners and masonic emblems ; and when the business of the day was ended, more than a hundred of the parishioners sat down at Canonbury Tavern, to a dinner, over which the vicar presided. This church was consecrated by Dr. Howley, Bishop of London, on July 2nd, 1828. The church at Balls' Pond followed. It was dedicated to St. Paul, and constructed for one thousand seven hundred and ninety-three sittings, of which eight hundred and seventeen were free. The site was obtained from the Marquis of North- ampton at a nominal jDrice; and the whole cost was 10,947Z. The first stone was laid September 5th, 1826, and the church was consecrated by Dr. Howley, on October 23rd, 1828. Trinity Church was the largest of the three, and was built on land belonging to the parish. It had two thousand and nine sittings, of which eight hundred and fifty-eight were free. The whole cost was 11,5352. The first stone was laid July 15th, 1826, and the consecration took place March 19th, 1829. And thus the gTeat design was accomplished which the 266 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. vicar had so much at heart, and which had cost him so much care and thought. For an expenditure of 12,000Z., the parish was enriched by three large and noble churches, which had in reality cost more than 35,000L So strictly was the original pledge kept, and so carefully were the funds husbanded, that on the completion of the whole design, a balance of lOOl. was returned to the parish. A complete set of communion plate, of the value of one hundred guineas, was presented by the vicar to each church in succession, on the day of Consecration. Most anxious were his efforts to appoint suitable and efficient ministers. His thoughts ran first amongst old friends, well- known, and proved by the experience of many years : and to them were the offers made. But there was some delicacy in the position — necessarily at first subordinate, and there was the certainty of great labour being required, so that the call was not strongly pressed ; first thoughts gave place to second, and the incumbents finally appointed were the Kev. W. Marshall, Eev. John Sandys (who happily retains his post), and the Kev. H. F. Fell. The income was derived from pew- rents ; and like all Islington churches, which form pleasing exceptions to a too common rule, proved remunerative. The churches were soon filled, and the spiritual wants of Islington for the time supplied. How the precedent thus set has been followed, and men have felt their spirits stirred by the example ; how the churches in the parish have increased and multiplied ; how the machinery of schools, lecture-rooms, and associations of all kinds have gathered round them ; how legal districts have been assigned ; how the patronage has been most disinterestedly vested in trustees : — all these points belong rather to the ecclesiastical history of Islington than to this biography. As for the vicar, his "three churches in Islington" were in his heart, and often on his lips, to his dying day : nor was he ever forgetful how much the successful result was due to the generous help of his parishioners, and the liberahty of Her Majesty's Commissioners. Nothing now seemed wanting to complete the ecclesiastical machinery of the parish, but a school for the upper classes. 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 267 offering a first-class education at a moderate charge, and com- bining, or attempting to combine, the discipline of school, with the comforts of home. The preliminary steps were taken towards the close of tliis year (1829) ; but controversy on the general subject of education being then everywhere rife, it was not without frequent discussions and occasional collision of opinion, that the matter was satisfactorily arranged. What happened on one of these occasions will serve as an illustration of character. The vicar, who was presiding at the meeting, made use of some expression which gave pain to a sensitive mind, caused some confusion, and led to an adjournment. This was followed next day by a long and respectful letter from the party who considered himself aggrieved, and who naturally and reasonably expected such a reply as might soothe his wounded feelings. But instead of this, he received from the vicar a hastily written note, saying amongst other things, that he was " quite ready to forget and forgive." This mode of accepting an apology instead of making it, may excite a smile : but it will be well to remember that it is almost sure to alienate a friend. It is burning controversy alive. It is closing a wound without healing it. Such things are perhaps common enough: but the conclusion of this incident, now to be given, is not common. Many a man may get wTong, but few are found ready to get right again — to resist Nature and obey Grace. A friend of both parties, anxious for the success of a plan which for the moment, seemed in danger of shipwreck, called upon the vicar, and gently introduced the subject. His purpose was at once perceived. "You think that I was wrong in what I said the other day ? " Assent w^as signified. "Well then," said the vicar, cordially shaking him by the hand, "Let us sit down and talk it over. What is best to be done ? Shall I make a public apology ? I am quite ready." Tliis was not deemed necessary : a few explanatory and kind words at the next Committee meeting was all that could be requii^ed from him. The advice was frankly adopted and cheerfully carried out. All was soon in motion again. The plan was settled, the shares were taken, the buildings erected, able masters appointed ; and on the 20th October, 1830, the Bishop of London opened a 268 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. school whicli soon attained, and still maintains, a high reputa- tion in the neighbourhood, and at the Universities. This successful working of the parish did good beyond its own immediate limits. Clergy and laity of many different views, were looking on, and saw the combination of Evangelical doctrine with Church order, carried fully into practice. The same might have been seen doubtless in many other cases, but the individuals were less prominent and the parishes less populous. The effect w^as good. Points of agreement were increased — points of difference lessened. Instead of standing far apart, churchmen were drawn together ; and when the threatening aspect of the times compelled them to join hands, they did it with less reluctance. Their words were more kindly, their imion was more sincere, their feeling more hopeful. In producing this effect, the Vicar of Islington had indirectly his fuU share. An acute observer, occupying at this time, a high post, which he has since exchanged for one much higher, writing to a friend at the time, says : — " Many circumstances have occurred in these days to draw well-intentioned men together. They know one another better, and have seen how much sincerity and good feeling may often exist amongst those who espouse very opposite sentiments and measm'es. Daniel Wilson's doings at Islington must have wrought much conviction. Simeon's donation to India has brought him into favourable notice. And these leaders in their own party, must have seen much to admire amongst persons whom they have been used to look upon as enemies." The vicar's parochial engagements did not prevent liis continuing to take an active part in public matters affecting the Church at large. The anniversaries of the great religious Societies in May, were regularly attended, and the discussions raised on the constitution of the Bible Society from time to time, were viewed with much interest and anxiety. On each occasion he took part with the Committee : but when, as in the case of the exclusion of the Apocrypha from the Society's Bibles, the matter was decided against them, he cheerfully 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 269 acquiesced. Upon the question of instituting a test which should exclude from membership all but believers in the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, his opinion was decided. He would have no such te.st. He attended the public meetings in the year 1831, and when Lord Bexley's voice failed to reach the audience and quell the tumult, he was the spokesman on his behalf. He conveyed his lordship's sentiments to the meeting, and added a few pithy words of his own. Writing briefly upon the matter afterwards, he says : — ' In truth the making of a test for the Bible Society is im- practicable. Carry the rule to-morrow, and in effect you gain nothing ; for you cannot guard against hypocrites and worldly men, who beheve nothing of our Lord's divinity; and you break up the Society — which stands firm on God's blessing, and on the certainty that no body of men will in the long run circulate the Bible, but those who love the Bible and the Divine Saviour.' But the Society which chiefly interested him at this time, because almost wholly dependent upon his exertions, was called, " The Newfoundland Societ3\" It had fallen into the lowest possible state of depression. A debt of 1700Z. weighed it down : all public appeals had failed : the Committee was disheartened : the secretary had resigned : and the Society was on the verge of extinction. Mr. Wilson came to the rescue ; and his energy, activity, and influence was, as usual, crowned with success. Friends, public and private, were enlisted in the cause, churches were thrown open and collections made at his request, public meetings in all parts were held, Mr. Marshall was associated with him and eventually made secretary, the debt vanished, an adequate income was secured, and the whole scheme placed on a firm basis. How this was accomplished may be partly conceived from the following extract of a letter written, October 15th, 1831, from Cromer, in Norfolk: — ' I have had a taste of the Friends in their sweetest and purest form. I see much to love, much to admire, much to imitate ; — but nothing to alter my long-fixed opinion, that with 270 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. a National Protestant Church established by the Divine good- ness in my country, and holding no fundamental errors, it is my duty to be in communion. ' The Friends, if spread over a fallen world, would extinguish Christianity — her doctrine — her sacraments — her ministry of the Word. But the Friends, scattered in small bodies in the midst of a National Church, may do much service, may quicken spirituality — diffuse love — rebuke worldly habits — recal to primitive simplicity. There is no body of Christians from whom you may not learn something important, if the heart be teachable and humble. * I left hynn on Tuesday morning, October 11th, dined at Massingham, and preached in the evening for the Newfoundland School Society. After six hours of gigs and rain, I came on here to the Bible Meeting. John Joseph Gurney spoke admirably, and all was harmonious. We sat down to dinner at Earlham at six o'clock, sixty-four in number. Mrs. Amelia Opie was on my one hand, and Mrs. Upcher on my other. After dinner I was called on to address the company, and I read an important letter I had just received from (Dr. Turner) the Bishop of Calcutta. At the close I mentioned my Newfound- land Schools, as standing between the heathen and our home population. Mr. Gurney instantly proposed a little collection from the company present. I went round with a water-glass. Another friend did the same. We gathered more than 15Z., besides four annual subscriptions of a guinea each. I go back to Norwich to-morrow for three sermons. Hard work !' His motives may be gathered from another letter, written at Brighton : — * Here I am, an evangelist as usual. Three charity sermons preached by others at home, gave me the Sunday for Brighton, and the Newfoundland Society. ' To preach the good old Gospel in the good old way — to establish wavering souls — to win back by love wandering shejDherds — to protest against errors and heresies — to hold up a Crucified Saviour in the novelty-hunting spiritual Church — these are the high duties which I seem to have been called to, the 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 271 last six months. The Newfoundland Society is a new peg on which all these things hang ; and here Mr. Marshall and I go on like brothers, without neglecting anything at home : and as the whole little Society rests on us, we are in a position most advantageous for preaching, expounding, exhorting, as oppor- tunity occurs. * Throughout life I have found the Lord leading me in waj^s I knew not : and after my serious illness nine years since (which was to prepare me for Islington), I have never had such health as for the last year. * What I most lament is the remaining corruption of an evil heart; unbelief, pride, vanity, selfislmess, self-will; the masked batteries of Satan. A few things I have always found im- portant: to be cautious in adopting new notions, however plausible : to be fearful of persisting in a course of temptation, if entered upon : to be much on first principles as to the heart : to be quick in taking warning of conscience, or of a friend, or of the falls of others : and to keep close to the whole Bible in its simple obvious meaning.' The wisdom of all this needs not to be pointed out. Nor is it to be wondered at, that imder such advocacy, the Society renewed its strength. After a sustained period of usefulness alone, a union was formed with the Colonial Church Societ}^ and from this union arose the " Colonial Church and School Society " of our day, which has already taken a high position, and promises to be extensively useful. But now the private Journal, to which such frequent reference was made in the earlier part of this work, and which was dis- continued in the year 1807, becomes once more available. It will draw aside the veil, and show the " chambers of imagery" in the heart. No one can read its words of deep abasement ; its confession of indwelling sin; its devout aspirations and earnest supplications, without perceiving that it was written as in the very presence of the heart-searching God. The feeling of the writer seems ever to be that expressed by Job : " I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear : but now mine eye seeth Thee. Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and 272 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. ashes." The entries are not exclusively given to self-examina- tion and self- dedication, but occasional references will be found to parochial matters. The first entry is as follows : — * Jan, 12th, 1830. Twenty-three years have passed since I wrote in this journal. I can scarcely say why. I believe that I ceased to write because pride gradually increased, and I could not even describe the state of my soul without some inflation, which spoiled all.' He then goes on to mention some of the family and personal incidents which had occurred during this long interval, and which have been, for the most part, embodied in this work. 'June 2lst, 1830. I scarcely know how to describe the state of my soul, so grievous are my spiritual maladies ! Oh, my God, what can I say to Thee ? Thou knowest all the secret recesses of my heart : nothing is hidden from Thee. Thine eye penetrates through every disguise. This very day Thou hast seen everything that has passed through the thoughts, the imagination, the lips, and the actions of Thy servant. I acknowledge, I confess all. I prostrate myself before Thee, 0 my God ! I humble myself in dust and ashes. I pray Thee to make me sensible of my guilt, and to work in me that true and sincere repentance which needeth not to be repented of. For- give my sins through the merits of the death of Jesus Christ my Saviour. Grant complete reconciliation with Thee. Kenew my heart by thy Holy Spirit, — that Spirit of grace and supplication promised by the prophet. I ardently desire to love Thee, to obey Thee, to seek my happiness in Thee — in Thee alone. Grant me grace to lay aside every weight, and to follow Thee faithfully. * God's blessing has been abundantly vouchsafed to me in my parish. Last Friday we formed an Association for the better observance of the Lord's Day. On Monday we formed another for visiting the poor. Both will prove of great importance. ' On Thursday the Rev. Mr. Rose died : and I have given 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 278 the chapel-of-ease to Mr. Hambleton, who has served it for the last year.' ' J2ine 23rc?. I have never felt more deeply the misery of my soul. My efforts to conquer evil passions seem in vain. I find myself the servant of sin and Satan, and the enemy of God. My imaginations, thoughts, desires, affections, con- science,— all are corrupt and enfeebled. Alas ! my God, I prostrate myself before Thee. I confess my wretchedness. I pray for help. I want a true change of heart, a true love to God in Christ Jesus. My heart condemns me. Ah ! Adorable Saviour, give me grace to turn from sin, and follow Thee as my Master, my Saviour, and my God.' ^ June 27th. I have preached this morning on the death of King George the Fourth, and in the afternoon on the separa- tions and divisions which the Gospel causes. I had some freedom of spirit, for which I bless my God. But my spiritual state is pitiable. I have grieved the Holy Spirit, my Divine Comforter. Oh ! how sad I am. Let grace penetrate my soul. O God, open, quicken, warm it ; so that I may glorify Thee more and more.' ' July 1st. To-morrow, if it pleases God, I shall complete my fifty-second year, and enter my fifty-third. What should be my resolutions for the new year ? Tell me, O my soul, what I ought to do, as it respects my private devotions, my ministerial work, my children, religious societies, and the Church of God — ' 1. My private devotions ought to be more regular, fer- vent, and spiritual : above all, I ought to study the Bible more humbly and prayerfully. * 2. My ministry demands more simplicity, sweetness, tenderness of heart, spiritualit}-, fidehty, boldness. * 3. My children require my praj^ers, my example, my instructions, and a steady consistent walk. * 4. The Societies need carefulness to avoid divisions, and to keep from needless interference : all must be open, straightforward, wise. VOL, I. T 274 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. ' 5. The Church of God wants a heart full of charity, a single eye, and the simplicity of Jesus Christ in all things. ' I have, myself, to guard against (1) pride ; (2) the lusts of the flesh ; (-3) vain and worldly reading. Give me, 0 God, the needful grace.' 'Dec. ^Ist, 1830. The year ends this day. What is the state of my soul ? Oh ! Thou who knowest the hearts of all men, make me to know myself, to humble my soul before Thee, to seek Thy divine consolations, to pledge my powers anew to Thy service. Alas, I find my corruptions stronger and my graces feebler than ever. The defilement of the thoughts and imaginations of my heart, my pride when things go well, my jealousy of others, the insensibility of my spirit towards religion, the worldliness and secularity of my soul. Ah ! my God, Thou knowest the depth of my degradation and corruption. ' I bless Thee, notwithstanding, for the help granted me throughout the year. I think that I love my Saviour more than ever — that I value the Bible more — that I realise more the safety and happiness the Gospel gives — that the w^orld is less my resource — and religion more the " one thing needful." ' In the coming year, may I pray more fervently, study the Bible more diligently, watch over my heart, repose more entirely on the operations of grace, read fewer idle and w^orldly books. God help me ! God prepare me for death and eternity ! ' ' Feb. 10th, 1831. I have been to Clifton and Bristol, where I have seen Mrs. Hannah More, who has entered on her eighty- seventh year ; and also Robert Hall, who is about sixty-eight years old. His forehead is grand, his mouth coarse, his eyes sparkling — altogether a most striking countenance. ' My parish is disturbed — very much disturbed by a judg- ment given against the trustees. But this is nothing in comparison with the state of my soul ; for I find myself more than ever harassed with evil, with temptation, with spiritual corruption. Have pity on me, 0 my God. Deliver me. Pardon me. Give grace to guide, control, cleanse, sanctify.' 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 275 'Feb. ISth. I am cast down, desolate and afflicted by- reason of my sins. What a deceitful heart is mine ! How worldly my affections ! How do covetous and carnal affections harass me ! Three things frighten me — the lusts of the flesh — the pride of the heart — the love of the world. Break my hard heart, Oh God ! soften it by Thy grace, open it by Thy spirit. If my heart is but right with God, all other things are nothing.' ' March dth. I never would pass this day without thanks- givings to God. It was on this day that I first listened to the heavenly voice. The day then, to me, is precious. I call upon the name of the Lord. I magnify Him. To Him be glory ! ' ' July f^rd. To-day I enter on my fifty-fourth year. I would now consider the w^ay in which I have walked, and the duties to which I have been called. * But the mercies of my God and Saviour must never be forgotten. Ah, that Divine mercy is infinite ! It has kept me for many years, has preserved me in health, and has helped me in difficulties. I humbly acknowledge, Oh my God, that Thy grace has never failed. I acknowledge Thy goodness and lov- ing-kindness. Oh, that my heart was faithful — full of grace and full of gratitude. But I must needs confess my sins and the corruption of my heart. My Saviour, how odious must I appear before Thee ! Pardon me. Cover me with Thy perfect righteousness. Surround me with Thy merits. Thy obedience. Thy death. Let Thy spirit, Oh ! Saviour dear, fill me, purify me, console me, strengthen me. I would begin this year with new resolutions, stricter rules of life, more heavenly affections, simpler and purer objects. Give me, my Saviour, grace to walk before Thee in a plain path.' ^ July 10th. How can I begin my meditation ! How can I enter Thy presence, my God ! My thoughts oppress me. The instability of my character, the weakness of my will, my frequent relapses, shut my mouth, and make me miserable. I have preached this morning on the fall of Da^id from tlie w^ords, " Thoii art the man " (2 Sam. xii. 7). But I have more need of self- application than any of my hearers : — T 2 276 THE LIFE OF DAKIEL WILSOIs^ [chap, X. ' " I am the man :"— the man unfaithful, the man ungrateful, the man proud, the man living to himself, the man full of covetousness, weakness, and corruption. Oh ! my God, have pity on me. Visit me with Thy grace. Give me Thy Spirit. Destroy in me the dominion of sin, and set up the kingdom of purity and virtue,' We have thus been enabled to look within the veil ; and to contrast the outer and the inner life of the believer. The first is like the tabernacle of old, wherein the daily sacrifice was offered, and all things necessary for accomplishing the service of God performed ; but the second is like the holy place, wherein is the mercy-seat, and the sweet incense, and the silent adoration, and the solitary worshipper with his hands upon the horns of the altar, confessing his own sins and the sins of his people. At the time when these entries were inserted in the vicar's journal, all Islington was in an uproar. Some unintentional error had been made in the election of the parish trustees under the local Act, and the occasion was taken by the discon- tented party, to attempt to regain dominion. Their rallying cry was " Opposition to the Vicar ; " and the party spirit which seemed to be laid, rose up again and strove. The vicar had nothing to do with the error which had been committed, and the whole matter could affect him only indirectl3^ His friends, therefore, anxious to spare him, kept him out of the thick of the contest. Several vestry meetings had to be held, over which Mr. Woodward, in his official capacity as Senior Church- warden, presided in the absence of the vicar. He was well supported. The reluctance of the vicar's friends had been thoroughly overcome, and they were ready to exert the influence vrhich properly belonged to them, and which, when exerted, was irresistible. Their nominees were all chosen, and appointed trustees for the next two years. This result was favourable, but it had to be confirmed; and the final meeting at length drew near. The church-warden, harassed and weary, called upon the vicar on his way, and told him all that was proposed, and all that was apprehended. Cheered by words of kindness and encouragement, he wentto duty, and presided over a most 1824—32.] ISLINGTON '111 stormy meeting. The minority harassed him by motions, amendments, and points of order without end. But every eflbrt failed, and the last agitated waves subsided and sunk into quietness as the morning daAmed. The first act of tiie chairman when he rose, was to report proceedings to the vicar, and congratulate him on the favourable result. He found a ready audience and a grateful auditor. " i\ry dear sir," said the vicar, " I thought it would be even as you have said, because I know that God heareth and answereth prayer. The moment you left me last night, I sent for my curates, that 'two or three' might agree in what they should ask; and when you were taking the chair, we fell upon our knees, and besought the Lord to give you a mouth and wisdom that no adversar}' might be able to gainsay or resist. Thus whilst you were striving in the plain, Ave were praying on the Mount. And this is the result. May God be praised ! " " Ah, sir," said the church-warden, when giving this account of his vicar, with tearful eye and quivering lip ; " Ah, sir! he was indeed a man of praj^er." But the time was at hand when the agitations of this large parish were no more to affect the vicar. His work at IsUngton was nearly done, and he was to be called away. During his incumbency of eight years, a great and permanent effect had been produced. The energy of one man had roused up thirty thousand. The fallow ground had been broken up ; good seed had been sown ; and the first fruits gathered. It was for others to reap the full harvest, and enlarge the field. And through God's mercy this has been done to a great extent. AVhat Islington may eventually become, no one can tell. But how- ever swelling her population, however prosperous her trade, however numerous her churches, however i^ious her clergy, however conspicuous her zeal, however liberal her hand, however large her heart, she must still know that tlie days of Daniel AVilson were her days of "visitation," and ever speak of him in terms of love and gratilude. It is somewhat curious, and certainly inte-resting, to observe 278 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. how the mmd of Mr. Wilson seemed about this time to be turning to the East. He had always felt and expressed great interest in the appointment of the successive Bishops of Calcutta, and in the 3^ear 1829 he invited Dr. Turner, the fourth Bishop, to visit Islington before sailing, and attend a meeting of the Church Missionary Association. He was him- self in the chair, as vicar, and in his address he promised the Bishop, that if at any time Islington could give or do anything to benefit India, they were ready. The Bishop took up the pledge, and said that he should undoubtedly call for its redemption at some future time. And so it came to pass ; for his lamented death in 1881 was the call, and in 1832 Islington jdelded up her vicar. But more passed than this. Bishop Turner at a private interview begged for Mr. Wilson's impressions of the duty attaching to the Indian Episcopate ; and though this request was not complied with at the time, yet when repeated in an urgent letter from Calcutta, it met with a full response, and many suggestions were sent out and thank- fully acknowledged. The acknowledgment thus made contained matter of much public interest, and it was read, as occasion served, all over the countr}^, and finally sent to the " Christian Observer" for publication. Moreover, at the suggestion of friends, he submitted it to the consideration of Charles Grant, who was at that time President of the Board of Control under Lord Grey's government. This led incidentally to a renewal of that friendly intercourse with the family, which rising honours and public life had interrupted ; and thus, under God's Avise Providence, prepared for all that followed. Bishop Turner's death was not then anticipated ; but when it occurred, Mr. Wilson's mind was full of India. Anxious to use the influence he possessed, in order to secure a fit successor to the vacant see, he wrote to Mr. Grant, pleading for the appointment of a man (1) of thorough and decided piety, (2) of good talents, (3) of amiable temper, (4) of some station in the Church. He soon heard that it had been offered to several clergymen of eminence : to Dr. Dealtry, Ptector of Clapham, to Chancellor Eaikes, of Chester, to Archdeacon Hoare ; and for various reasons declined by all ; and this made him fear lest the 1324—32.] ISLINGTON. 279 appointment should fall into inferior hands. He communicated these apprehensions to Mr. Grant, through Dr. Dealtry, and named, at their request, many persons whom he deemed highly eligible. Having done this, the thought, he says, came into his mind as expressed in the prophet's words, " Here am I, send me ; ^' and he wrote again to state, that if a real emergency arose, and no one else could be found, he teas ready to go. The account of all that followed when that step was taken, is found in a short-hand manuscript, written from day to day, by himself; and from it what follows is extracted. It shows at once the course of events and the workings of his own mind ; and if there appears anything of eagerness or anxiety respecting the aj^pointment, let it be remembered and strongly borne in mind that he was desiring what many others would not have, and that it was not a prize he sought, but a sacrifice he con- templated. His words are, " I was compelled by conscience, and by an indescribable desire, to sacrifice myself, if God should accept the offering, and the emergency arise." India was still accounted of at that time as a place of banishment from home and friends. No overland route, no Suez railway, no electric telegraph, abridged the intervening space, or alle- viated the pain of separation. And as to the Bishopric, a peculiar fatality seemed to have settled on it. Four bishops, prostrated by their overwhelming duties, or the uncongenial climate, had sunk and died within nine years ; and he who followed them must go, " baptised for the dead." And what was the appointment, speaking after the manner of men, to one in the position of Mr. AYilson ? He was fifty-four years old ; he had a full comj^etency ; he was happily situated ; he filled a high post ; he discharged important duties ; he was surrounded by loving friends ; he exercised a wide influence : — what could the East hold out as a compensation to the man who resigned aU these ? Mr. Crouch, his old tutor, who still survived, wrote to him from the quiet parsonage of Nar- borough, when the appointment was complete, and expressed what every one who reflected must have felt : — " From the intelligence communicated by the newspapers, I had been led to concur with the united wish of the reUgious public, that your health might be found equal to your very important duties. The 280 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. sacrifice jou are making of comfort and enjoyment in your native country is disinterested and magnanimous ; and to use language which has been applied on a similar occasion, I bow myself before such heroic virtue ; or rather, I adore the grace of God in Christ Jesus, which is able to raise up such instances of it in our degenerate days." But we turn to the short-hand notes, and the first extract will suffice to put the reader in possession of facts which will make all that follows clear. ^ Jan. 1st, 1832. I have now entered the fifty-fourth j-ear of my age, the thirty-first of my ministry, and the eighth of my incumbency of this parish. Here I would raise my memorial of gratitude and thanksgiving to the Lord for all his bounty and grace to me, the greatest of sinners. A very important inquiry now presses upon me in connection with the Indian bishopric. It is about a fortnight since my name was first mentioned to Mr. Grant. It w^as on Tuesday, Dec. 20th, that the case was opened, and it was finally developed completely, so far as Dr. Dealtry thought right, on Friday, Dec. 23rd. May the Lord do what seemeth him good ! * The thought first entered my mind on Dec. 11th ; I cannot tell how or why. I felt in my heart a great desire to dedicate myself to this missionary bishopric, if the Lord would accept me. This desire was kindled in my mind on the Sunday evening in prayer, and has continued since. I trust it was suggested by the Holy Spirit, Since that time the pain, the waiting, the longing of spirit which I have felt is indescribable. God, thou knowest my heart and my desire. Accept the wish to serve Thee, and be glorified in me whether by life or by death.' Will the reader recal to memory the little chapel at Homerton, and read the aspirations kindled in the soul of Daniel Wilson as he kneels there at his first communion ; and he will then perceive the perfect identity of his character. The interval of twenty-four years might almost be obliterated, and the feelings of 1797, be linked to those of 1832. Upon the same sacred 1824—32.] ISLIXGTOX. 281 day, the same desire for missionary work springs up. It is followed by restlessness, anxiety, and longing in both cases. He is powerless himself, and hindered by others. Delay chastens his mind, and subdues his will : — and then at once, obstacles of all kinds give way, and his course is made plain. Surely this is of the Lord, who is " wonderful in counsel and excellent in working." The extracts will now follow in their order of dates : — 'Jan. 10th, 1832. Another day of uncertainty has passed. On conversing with Mr. Marshall this evening, we agreed in thinking that I had done nothing to regret : that every step I had taken was the result of duty towards God. AVe have been praying together again for light and guidance ; and I feel a comfortable persuasion that God will not withhold that guidance and that light. 'Jan. 12tli. I have heard nothing. I have been particularly agitated and stricken in spirit through the night and through this day. I cannot account for this anxiety. It is neither reasonable nor Christian, but weak and disqualifying. I fear it is the effect of pride, vanity, and self-consideration. Oh Lord, undertake for me. May I have no will but Thine. May I wait the declaration of Thy will with patience. May I be willing to know nothing till Thou declarest Thy pleasure. 'Jan. 13i/i. Another day of uncertainty has passed; but my mind has been more calm and composed : perhaps the result of active duty and lapse of time : perhaps by increase of faith and submission to God. I am inclined to think that the prejudice against me personally, in the minds of the Cabinet or the Church, may be the cause of this delay and difficulty. I trust I may say that every day of delay, my mind becomes more weaned and quieted, and the composure of my judgment is restored. ■ 'Jan. I8th. Dr. Dealtry advised me to consult my medical friends on the subject of my health. I went to Dr. Wilson 282 THE LIFE OF DAKIEL WILSON. [chap. X. Philip, and he told me there was but little risk, and that I might live in India for years : but that all would depend on l^rudence and caution. I went also to Dr. Babington. His opinion was throughout favourable. He thought the climate and place would equally agree with me. So that no excuse can be drawn from my health. ^ Jan. 22ncl. Breakfasted by invitation with Mr. Grant on Thursday. The result of the conversation was that he would move in proposing me, but have another name in reserve. Here then I stand, waiting for the declaration of the Lord's will in His Providence. As to my motives, I hope and believe they are, and have been, in the main, pure. Lord, it is Thy glory I have desired to seek : it is the salvation of souls : it is the good of Thy Church : it is the honour of the Gospel in India. I retrace the steps I have taken, and I hope I am warranted in saying, on the review, that I took them from the fear of God, and an impression that they were imperative on me. And now. Lord, I would solemnly resign myself to Thee, and implore Thy gracious guidance in the circumstances as they arise. Lord, if it be not Thy will, carry me not up hence. If these exercises of mind are only to humble and empty me of self, and to prepare me for more faithful labour in my present station — then. Lord, send out some one else, and qualify him for the undertaking, and dispose all events for his going out. I would here engage myself to unreserved submission : yea, to thankfulness, if I am hindered by any obstacle from going forth contrary to Thy will. But notwithstanding, if it should be Thy will to accept my sacrifice, and to qualify me for the work. Thy will be done. Oh ! give me humility, contrition of soul, sense of responsibility, and watchfulness over con- stitutional infirmities. ' Feb. f)th. I have arrived at home after an absence of twelve days. Nothing is settled. Mr. Grant is moving on, and using those means he judges most likely to succeed. Mr. Zachary Macaulay informs me that he has written to Mr. Grant, strongly urging my appointment to Calcutta, and that he has since J received a note enquiring if he knew anything of my pamphlet * 1824—32.] ISLIls^GTON. ^ 283 about " Bellingham." Mr. Macaulay had found a copy, and sent it with such remarks as had occurred to him. It is evident that Mr. Grant has met with objections from some of his colleagues. ^ Feb. 17th, Rectory, Claijliam. Dr. Dealtry said to me this morning, " What shall we do if, after all, we fail as it regards you ? " We then began to converse about different names. I said, It appears then that you are reduced to the emergency which I conceived might possibly arise. You have no one on whom you can rely, in case I am not appointed." " No, no one ; " was the answer. "Mr. Grant said to me the other daj^ ' If we cannot carry Mr. Wilson, what are we to do ? ' " " This, then," I replied, " is very consoling to my mind. It places me exactly where I should wish to be — as filling a gap in an extremity." ' It may naturally be supposed that his parish caused him many anxious thoughts : and his mind seems to have passed through four different phases on the subject. He hesitated about accepting the Bishopric at all, when it appeared, as it did at first, that his vicarage would lapse to the crown. When informed that this would not be the case, but that the next presentation would rest with himself, he feared lest wrong motives should be imputed to him, and resolved to have nothing to do with the presentation. Then, as a third alternative, he resolved to yield the choice entirely to Mr. Grant, with this only condition, that it should not be given to his own son. And finally he came to the common sense view of the subject, and determined to exercise in any case, the powers which properly and legally appertained to him, and to appoint his son, in whom he had perfect confidence, and who he was assured would carry out all his plans. When his mind was thus made up, all anxiety about what he calls his " dear, dear parish," ceased. To continue his notes : — ' March 2nd. Lord, Thou appointest me still to patience and 284 THE LIFE OF DAXIEL WILSON. [chap. X. silence. I have seen Dr. Dealtry. He assures me that the affair is going on quite smoothly, that ^Ir. Grant is only waiting to see one or two of his colleagues, and that nothing of difficulty has arisen except ah out " Bellingham." * March Ath. Islington Churchy Sunday. Blessed Lord, I am now about to partake of Thy body as broken, and to drink Thy blood, as shed for me. Oh, enable me to resign myself to Thee ! At Thy altar may I renew my dedication. May I present my body and soul as a living sacrifice. Lord, if Thou callest me to remain here, I would serve Thee with all humility of mind, and all joy of heart in the Gospel of Thy Son. But, Lord, if Thou choosest me to go, I would here at Thy altar say, " Here I am, send me." Lord accept the sacrifice of my will. Lord receive me as Thy servant. Lord be with me, and bless my ministry. ' March l^th. Received the following letter from Dr. Dealtry : — " The delay has been occasioned by matters altogether foreign to yourself. The probability is that in three or four days it will be settled." ' ^ March 2ith. Received the following letter from Mr. Grant: — " I am sorry for the long delay of settlement, and am obliged to have still further delay : but I wish very much if possible to see you to-day before seven o'clock." ' This letter led to a most important interview and conversa- tion, highly honourable to both the parties concerned. On the one side was manifested a sense of the deep responsibility incurred in making the appointment, an earnest desire to choose one whose faithfulness to the truth was unquestionable, a very kind recollection of early scenes and other days; mingled with some apprehensions, lest the prompt and impulsive action so characteristic of the man of his choice should lead to difficulties amongst a fastidious Christian community, and a sensitive native population. Whilst on the other side, there appeared an entire disinterestedness, a readiness to withdraw in a moment all pretensions if it was deemed expedient, a deter- 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 285 mination to watch against natural tendencies, to act cautiously, to take time, and to use in a new position the experience gained by many years, and amidst many difficulties ; combined with an independence of tone, an assertion of the supremacy of conscience, and a resolution to go unpledged as to all vital matters. The conversation ended with one remark on either side, as follows : — C. Grant. — " We shall now settle the matter almost imme- diately." D- Wilson. — " May God Almighty direct the conclusion of it to his own glory, and the welfare of India." Fifteen weeks, from the first opening of the subject, had elapsed, when the following letter was received. *' George-street, March 27, 1832, " My dear friend, — I beg to offer for your acceptance, if you are so disposed, the succession to the Bishopric of Calcutta. I make this proposal with the concurrence of Lord Grey and the sanction of the King. *' I shall be very glad if you can give me jom company to-morrow to breakfast at half-past nine : and you can then tell me your decision. Yours ever, " C. Grant. " Eev. D. Wilson." This letter has been carefully preserved, and around it and across it are the following brief references : — * Re -perused, April 8, 1834 : two years and twelve days after the offer. May it never turn to my condemnation. ^D. C.' 'Ee-perused at Tittaghur, near Calcutta, March 26, 1835, at the completion of third j^ear from appointment.' 286 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOK. [chap. X. * Ee-read, May 3, 1845, thirteen years, one month, and six days, after it was written. Deo gratias ! I am now on the steamer Precursor, going home for my health.' The acceptance of the offer was signified to Mr. Grant in due course, and was followed by an interview with Lord Grey, which is thus described : — ' I said that I waited upon him to make my acknowledgments for the honour he had done me in the appointment, and to assure him that I would endeavour to justify his confidence, and that of Mr. Grant. * He said, I was more indebted to Mr. Grant than to himself. ' I said I was not unaware of the immense reponsibility and difficulty of the administration of such a diocese, and that I trusted he would interpret favourably my motives and my conduct; that my object would be, by all discreet and con- ciliatory methods, to diffuse the pure doctrines and precepts of the Gospel amongst the population of that great empire. ' Lord Grey said that it would be his wish and desire, that the Gospel should be diffused by all safe and proper methods ; but that irritating conduct Avould only increase the difficulty of attaining my object. ' I said, I hoped I should be aware of the difference between the duties and circumstances of a private clergyman, and those of a Bishop in so vast and distant an empire : — that during thirty years I had, as a private clergyman, been battling many things, and engaged in some controversy ; but that in my new and responsible station I should endeavour to act with dis- cretion and mildness. ' Lord Grey said he was assured of this ; and the interview ended by my saying, " I hope, my Lord, you will hear nothing of me but tidings of good." ' What had been the real cause of the long delay does not appear. Most probably it arose from circumstances entirely independent of Mr. Wilson. The only objections avowed were to some observations in his pamphlet on Bellingham, which 1S24— 32.] ISLIKGTON. 287 were supposed (but surely without a cause) to suggest the idea of Reprobation, and some reflections on the Clergy, deemed harsh and uncalled-for, in an Anti-Slavery sermon. AVhen the appointment became public, the greatest interest was excited in all quarters. The Bish(5ps gave him a coiu'teous and cordial welcome. The Archbishop " could not but admire the sacrifice he was making, and lament the loss Islington must sustain." All who wished well to India and the cause of Missions were delighted. His old friends rejoiced with trembling, for they felt how uncertain was his tenure of health and life. One hundred and eight letters were received from them, full of congratulations, cautions, prayers, and affectionate counsels. As soon as the leisure of a voyage allowed, short pithy sentences were extracted from these letters, written in the blank leaves of his pocket Bible, and so arranged that a certain portion might be read each day, and the whole gone over every month. This was done that he might keep vividly in remem- brance the kindly feeling which dictated them, and the wise advice which they contained :— and there they are to this day. But no time was to be lost. More than nine months had elapsed since the vacancy of the See ; the proper period for sailing was close at hand, and there was much to be done. The notes are continued : — ' A2:)ril 7th. A very busy da}'. I have seen Captain Cole, recommended to me by j\[r. Blanshard, and have engaged my passage in the James Sibbald East Indiaman, to sail June 10th from Gravesend. ' I have resolved to take my daughter with me, with a native servant. ' I have received a Bengal chaplaincy from Mr. Melville, and have offered it to my nephew, the Rev. Josiah Bateman. ' I have had a delightful meeting with the clergy of the parish, which has much refreshed and strengthened my soul. Lord have mercy upon me. Lord sanctify me. Lord bless and keep me. Lord give me humiUty. May I know the difference between Thy judgment and that of men.' 2S8 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [OHAP. X. * April lull. I wrote to Archdeacon Corrie of Calcutta, to prepare for me by the end of October.' ^ April ISth. Visited the Archbishop and Bishop of London. Considered a scheme for creating additional Indian bishops. Last night dined with Mr. Buxton. I have visited my ship at Blackwall. I find myself too much hurried and confused by a succession of engagements, which produce distraction.' * April 2Srd. Dined with the Lord Mayor at the Mansion House.' * April 27th. Yesterday I drove into London, and resigned my vicarage of Islington.' And now the day of his consecration was at hand. It was fixed for Sunday, the 29th April. He called it " the day of his espousals " to Christ his Saviour. He rose early, and made the following entry in his Journal : — * Sunday, April 29tJi, 1839, 7*30 a.m. I am now come to the beginning of this awful, solemn, delightful day — the day of my espousals to Christ my Saviour — the day of the renewal of my vows as Deacon and Priest, and of the additional vows of Superintendent, Overseer, and Bishop of the Church at Cal- cutta. Oh Lord ! assist me in the preparation for this office. Aid me during the solemnities of the day. Grant me grace after it to fulfil my engagements and promises.' At prayers with his family that morning, he expounded St. Paul's address to the Elders of the Church at Ephesus (Acts XX.), and with deep feeling and faltering voice applied some of the verses to his own case : — * I also go to India under somewhat similar circumstances with the Apostle : in that " I know not the things that shall befall me there." But his God will be my God, and his Father my Father, and therefore, "none of these things move me." ' 1824—32.] ISLINGTON. 289 Accompanied by liis children, his chaplain, and his early friends the Dean of Salisbury and Mrs. Pearson, he drove to Lambeth, where the ceremony was to take place. On his arrival a procession was at once formed, and proceeded to the private chapel of the Palace. A few chosen friends, with Mr. Charles Grant, the officials and the household, alone w^ere present. An admirable and affecting sermon was preached by Dr. Dealtry. The Archbishop was assisted in the consecration by Dr. Blomfield, Bishop of London ; Dr. Monk, Bishop of Gloucester; and Dr. Grey, Bishop of Bristol. All w^as con- ducted with the utmost simplicity, the most perfect quiet, the deepest reverence ; and the " anointing Spirit " as invoked, seemed to be present. On his return home about five o'clock, the Bishop of Calcutta retired to his study, and appeared no more that day. The following were his evening meditations : — ' Lord, I would now adore Thee for Thy gi^eat grace given unto me ; that I should be called to the office of Chief Pastor and Bishop of Thy Church. Oh ! guard me from the spiritual dangers to which I am most exposed — pride, self-consequence, worldliness of spirit, false dignity, human apj^lause, abuse of authority, reliance on past knowledge or experience. Lord, give me simplicity of heart, boldness, steadiness, decision of character, deadness of affection to the world. Let me remember that the great vital points of religion are tlie main things to be kept constantly and steadily on my heart — then, compassion, tender deep compassion for souls — then, simplicity of object and abstraction from every other interfering claim — then, a spirit of prayer and supplication — then, the learning lessons from affliction when God sends it.' And now began a series of engagements almost overwhelming. His mornings were given to friends, and his days to business. He almost kept open house. At each breakfast hour large parties met for social converse, mutual edification, and kindlj^ farewells. Near relatives, old friends, his late parishioners, distinguished and honoured individuals, were then assembled, VOL. T. u 290 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X, and it was reckoned that during the last three months of his stay in England, more than five hundred guests were thus entertained. To one of these parties he himself especially refers, as follows : — * June 1st. I have had a most pleasing party to breakfast. Joseph John Gurney, ]\Irs. Fry, Mr. and Mrs. Buxton, Mr. and Mrs. Hoare, Joseph Wilson of Clapham, &c., about twenty altogether. After reading the forty-fifth Psalm and praying, ]\Irs. Fry made a prayer; and before breakfast, during the pause, Mr. Gurney made a prayer, and again after breakfast. There was a most pleasing spirit of love, and kindness. Mr. Gurney prayed for me that I might be kept humble, contrite, self-abased, lowly in heart.' Every Saturday afternoon there was a Clerical Meeting in his library, for exposition of Scripture and prayer ; at which, now at the last, ladies were admissible. His Sunday ministrations continued, and vast crowds assem- bled to hear the word at his lips, and to receive his blessing. Just before his departure, the Eclectic Society (which has been already referred to), called a special meeting on his behalf, and the account of what took place, as given by himself in a letter to the Kev. J. G. Garrard, an old pupil of St. Edmund's Hall, is very interesting : — * Just before my leaving England in 1832, I was blessed by a special meetmg, where all the brethren offered me such good counsel as occurred to them : — ' 1. Mr. Simeon was present, and was especially earnest to guard me against attempting too much at once. He had spent a previous night in prayer. * 2. Mr. J. Clayton said he had been a member for forty- nine years. He read St. John xxi. 15, 16, " Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me," &c., and praj^ed for the vitality of my religion, for health and usefulness. * 8. Mr. Ed. Bickersteth read Isaiah, Ixii., and pra3^ed for discernment of spirit, knowledge of character, and judgment of suitableness^ 1824—32,] ISLINGTON-. / 291 ' 4. Gerard Noel read Ephesians 1st, and dwelt on the danger of losing oiir spirituality wlien elevated : on God's being tlie only Author of what is good : on tlie nearness of eternity, and the peculiar malignity of Satan. ' i). James Haldane Stewart proposed the liymn — " Come let us join our cheerful songs," &c. which was sung ; and he then read Exodus xxx. ' 0. John William Cunningham read Psalm cxxi. : and dwelt on the importance of prayer ; on the danger of worldly and secular business and society ; and on the duty of not attempting impossibilities.' Twenty were present, but these were the only notes forwarded and preserved. The first week in May, all the Ministers of State resigned. A little earlier, and the Bishopric of Calcutta would, in all liuman probability, liave been bestowed elsewhere. On May 11th, arrangements were made b}^ the Archbishop and the Bishop of London for issuing a commission to enable him to discharge all such episcopal functions as might be required at the Cape of Good Hope, which was out of his own jurisdiction ; and he wrote to give notice of his intention to call there on his voyage to India. On May 12th, his son was inducted into the living of Islington. On May 10th, he had to attend the usual banquet given by the East India Company at the London Tavern. The guests were distinguished, and the entertainment superb. The bishop spoke calmly and excellently; and wdiat he said was highly approved. In truth, ever since his elevation, his addresses had been marked by self-possession, fluency, point, and dignity : proving that one ingredient necessary for making a good speaker and a good speech, is the certainty of being listened to with interest and attention. His prayer before this dinner (always an important one) was, "Lord, I cast myself upon Thee for discretion, support, guidance, and merciful help. I rm a child. I cannot speak. u 2 292 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. X. Be Tliou to me a mouth and wisdom." His reflection after- wards was, " Lord, to Thee be all the praise." On May 18th, he attended a meeting of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel : and on the 23rd, a meeting of the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge, at which he made an address. On May 19th he dined again at the Mansion House, and responded on his health being proposed. For the last time he also addressed his old congregation at St. John's Chapel. He preached from Ephesians iii. 30, 31, and made a collection, amounting to 7il., for the Church Missionary Society. He accompanied the bishops to court on the King's (William IV.) birthday, to present the usual congratulatory address; and was graciously recognised, and personally addressed. He also accompanied the directors of the East India Com- panj^ to Hayleybury, and had much interesting conversation with the chairman. He was delighted to find him favourable to the plan for the extension of the Indian Episcopate, by making the Archdeacons, Suffragan Bishops. ' June 7th, found him at Farnham on a visit to Dr. Sumner, Bishop of Winchester. With great interest he went over the castle and chapel ; and walked through the town and to the parish church, where, on taking priest's orders, he had preached. His account is as follows : — * Chapel hi Farnham Castle, June 7. * Here I enter the chapel where I was ordained Deacon in 1801, and Priest in 1802. Here I would, as Bishop of Calcutta, renew my vows, pray for grace, and devote myself again to my God and Saviour.' But the parishioners of Islington, meanwhile, had not been unconcerned spectators of what was going on. The very day on which their vicar had received the notification of his appointment, he had written to Mr. Woodward, his church- warden, and informed him of it : {ind Mr. Woodward by 1524—32.] ISLINGTON. ^ S93 expressing in reply his own mingled feelings of sadness and submission, had conve3'ed a true impression of the feeling generally prevalent throughout the parish. This elicited a second communication. ' March 29, 1832. * I am not surprised at your affectionate language of regret. But you will soon see that " He that holds the stars in his right hand, and walks in the midst of the golden candlesticks," has grace and pow^r enough both for Islington and Calcutta. His eyes run to and fro through the earth to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose heart is perfect towards Him." And now the wish spontaneously arose, that some memorial should be presented of the regard and affection of the parishioners towards him. A subscription was immediately commenced, and one hundred and eighty guineas having been put down, a public meeting was called, and the co-operation of all classes invited. When plans were settled, the Bishop was invited to a public breakfast at Canonbury, on June 13th. The admission was by ticket, and Mr. Woodward presided. After a courteous and able speech, recapitulating what had been done for Islington during the last eight years, he begged to present, as an acknowledgment from a grateful parish, a gold clock and silver inkstand, with suitable inscriptions upon each. It was an interesting occasion, and one calculated to make a deep impression upon all parties concerned. The Bishop accepted the offered gift, and expressed his grateful sense of the kindness which had suggested it ; and after bidding all an affectionate farewell, he took his departure, and the meeting broke up. A day or two afterwards, he reiterated his thanks in a short letter, and enclosed one hundred guineas, to be expended in coals for the poor during the next winter. On the afternoon of the same day he went to the Queen's Drawing-room to take leave ; and the following entr}^ appears in his notes : — 'June 13th. At two o'clock to-day I went to court with my 294? THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [ciiap. x. nephew. The King said to me, " My Lord, when do you sail ? " I replied, " Monday." His Majesty said, " Then you must kiss hands." He immediately tendered his hand for that purpose, and added, " I wish you a safe return." ' On June iOth, he dined at Mr. Grant's, and met Lord Grey, Lord Brougham, the Lord Chancellor, the Bishop of London, Lord Hill, Sir F. Adam, and other celebrities. Lord Grey delighted liim by saying, that jNIr. Grant had been circulating a proposition to the cabinet about Suffragan Bishops in India, which he (Lord Grey) thought very reasonable. June 17th was his last Sunday. He preached in the parish church in the morning from Jude xx. 21; and as might be expected, the cliurcli was crowded to excess. The sermon lasted one hour and forty minutes. In the afternoon he preached at Chelsea from Colossians iii. 11 ; and thus ended, for the time, his ministry in England. The following morning, Monday, June 18th, was fixed for his departure. He rose " a great while before day," and the following affecting words close and complete his Journal : — * Monday morninr/, 4 o'docJc, June 18. * I am now come to the departing moment, when I am to leave my country, my family, my parish, my friends. * Lord, be Thou a country, a family, a parish, a friend to me, and that wiU make up for all. Lord, I resign myself to Thee, humbly trusting in Thine infinite power, goodness, and grace.' CHAPTER XL TQE VOYAGE TO INDIA. 1832. Ports in oil lb — TI18 James Sihhald — Occurrences on the Yoj-agc — Ecli,'iuus services — Four German missionaries — The singing sailor-boy — Studies — Correspondence — Cape Town — Hospitalities — Visitation of the Schools — Infant School — Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge— Ordination — Confirmation — Departure from Cape Town— Correspondence — Sickness — The Hooghly — Welcome to India. The Bishop reached Portsmouth before his ship ; so that the purpose he had formed of embarking on the instant, was frustrated. He was not alone however, neither had he been suffered to leave Islington unsaluted. Early as was the hour of his departure, a large assemblage of parishioners had col- lected round the house, to bid him " God-speed," and to receive his last " Farewell/' IMany near relations were the companions of his journey. Some old friends entertained him on the wa}^ others greeted him at the end. The Portsmouth bells rang out a cheerful welcome, the clergy waited on him to pay their respects, and the Port-Admiral was prompt with courteous offers of service. The Bishop himself thoroughly appreciated these marks of sympathy, and readily responded to them ; but his state of mind was quiet and subdued. He was not depressed, but silent; and seemed sensible of those mingled emotions of joy and sadness expressed by the Apostle when he said, " If I be offered on the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy and rejoice with you all." (Phil. ii. xvii.) Late in the evening, the ship James Sihhald appeared in sight, and it was arranged that all should be read}^ to receive the Bishop on the following afternoon. On June 19tli, 1832, therefore, precisely at five o'clock, he embarked in the Admiral's yacht, and left his native shores. His valued friend. 296 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [CUAP. XI. the Eev. C. Simeon, and others, were on deck, awaiting him ; and the whole party retired at once to the cahin, for " comfort of the Scrii^tui-es," and commendatory prayer. The call of Abraham to leave his country, and his kindred, and his father's house, was read ; and then all knelt and were commended to the most gracious protection of Him, who alone spreadeth out the heavens and ruleth the raging of the sea." The last kindly greetings followed ; and the voyage to India began. Into the daily occurrences of that voyage, with its early discomforts and subsequent alleviations, it will be unnecessary to enter: but a few particulars may be interesting as presenting an entirely new phase of the Bishop's life. Amongst his fellow -passengers were representatives of almost every branch of Indian society : the civilian, the military officer, the barrister, the chaplain, the missionary. Ladies also added the charm of their presence ; and the social intercourse of the ship was most agi'eeable. Morning and evening prayers were at once commenced : the morning prayers in the cuddy, immediately before breakfast, when the Captain and officers were present ; and the evening prayers on deck (weatlier permitting), when the sailors not on duty and the ship's servants were welcomed. On Sundays the whole ship's company assembled together for Divine service, on the quarter-deck, which was enclosed with awnings, decorated with flags, and furnished with benches. The sound of the church bell, the gathering of the congrega- tion, and the fixed attention on these occasions, served to recal home memories with all their dear and hallowed associ- ations. The Bishop never preached more admirable sermons. He seemed to long to impart some spiritual gift; and his own heart being tender, tenderness characterised his words. Every one seemed impressed, and the last discourse was always deemed the best. The singing was excellent. Four German mission- aries (alas ! two only are still in the fields of labour, two rest with God), with grand voices, not only habitually delighted all Avith their h}Tnns and ancient chaunts, ere the evening sun had set and the moon risen on the waters, but led the singing also on the Sunday with great effect. To their number was 1832.] THE VOYAGE TO 1]S^IA. 297 subsequently added a little ship's boy, who had an exquisite voice. A great favourite among the sailors, his sweet clear notes, when singing their sea-songs on the forecastle or between decks, attracted attention. The Bishop was charmed, and had him taught to " sing psalms," and then he joined the choir. The Holy Sacrament was also celebrated each month, and found twenty devout communicants. If the religious services, as thus described, seem more numerous than usual, it will be remembered that they do but carry out the idea attaching to a large family, with its daily prayers, Sunday services, and holy communion ; and it so occurred in the good Providence of God^ that all the passengers on board, both ladies and gentlemen, were prepared to appre- ciate and enjoy the performance of those religious duties, without which the Bishop would not have been happy. Amongst the sailors he was very popular, and nothing occurred through- out the voyage to give him pain. Once when walking the deck in bad weather, a man in the hurry of duty forgot himself, and swore. " Hold your tongue," said the men about him, " don't you see the Bishop ; he won't like it." At the beginning of the voyage, Avhen the weather was bad, the wind baffling, and the progress slow, some of the grumblers "never knew any good come of having so many parsons on board." But when a change took place, and the ship sped on rapidly — " it was all the Bishop's prayers." He himself could hardly be said to enjoy the voyage. He looked upon it merely as an episode in life, and its length and discomforts troubled him. His mind was in India, and he wanted to be there himself. Moreover, the usual occupations on board a ship scarcely interested him as they do others. He •would watch the flying fish, and listen to experiments made on the phosphoric light, and occasionally vary his reading hj a game at chess ; he was amused at the Saturnalia on crossing the line, and when a boat was lowered in a calm would delight in an hour's escape from what he called a prison ; but a fair wind, and a good da3''s progress interested him most. To learn the latitude and longitude at noon each day — to know the number of miles traversed — to have the ship's course marked down in his little chart : — these were his daily objects 298 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XI. of anticipation, and liis most frequent subjects for conver- sation. " How fast are we going, Captain ? " "Is the wind in our favour ? " " What do you sa}-, now, about the day of our arrival ? " These were questions incessantly proposed : and answered with a smiling face vrhilst all went well. But the repetition of them when sails were flapping or splitting, and when the ship's head stood far from the proper course, often brought a cloud upon the Captain's brow, and drove him quickly to some less absorbed passenger. The confinement of the ship also, to a certain extent, affected his health ; and it was to be expected that the excitement of the past three months should be followed by a corresponding depression. Every thing was done to make him happy. Conversation, reading, walking, wiled away each day ; v»hilst English remi- niscences, Indian anticipations, communion with God, and pre- paration for future usefulness, occuj)ied and refreshed his mind. The first real duty undertaken was the preparation of his Farewell Sermon for the press, with the addition of an Address to his late parishioners. His reading was given chiefly to Indian subjects: — the "Life and the Researches of Claudius Buchanan;" Le Bas' " Life of Bishop Middleton ; " Heber's "Journal;" Grant's "Minute," and many original documents entrusted to him for perusal ere he left home. AYhen these were ended, he betook himself to Divinity, Ecclesiastical matters, and history. He re-read Hooker's Works, and then took up Eobert Hall, Sir James Macintosh, Sir J. Middleton. Hindustani, also, he began ; but weariness of mind, and nausea, prevented much progress. The Hebrew Bible, as of old, and the Greek Testament, were always on his table ; and the repetition of favourite hymns and long pieces of poetry w^ere a constant recreation. How and when, in the course of a busy life, these were acquired, may excite surprise. But no man is fully known. Page after page of Cowper, Young, Goldsmith, and other authors, appeared to rise spontaneously in liis memory, and were repeated with admirable effect, as he took his constitutional or evening walk upon tlie quarter-deck. The Bishop made no notes of the voyage : but he wrote many letters. In one to his children, he describes the routine of liis daily life as follows : — 1832.] THE VOYAGE TO INDIA. 299 'JiOy 26, 1S32. ' We live very regiilaii}'. My clay is tliis : I rise at six o'clock, and spend till nearly eight in my cabin ; then Avalk for a quarter of an hour before prayers in the cuddy, when I read and comment on the Prophet Isaiah ; reading and writing, with occasional wallcs of five minutes interposed occupy the morning till two o'clock ; we dine at three ; repose in cabin follows till five ; at half-past five we have evening prayers on deck, when I read and comment on the Acts of the Apostles ; tea at six ; then comes exercise and reading ; at nine o'clock, private prayer in cabin with my daughter and chaplain ; at ten o'clock I am in my cot, with light put out. Our provision is abundant. There was shipped, I understand, thirty-six dozen of poultry, forty sheep, forty pigs, one hundred barrels of beer, one hundred and fifty Yorkshire hams, and a cow to give milk all the voyage ; besides dried fruits, preserv ed meats, and wines, including champagne, and claret'.' Of many other letters, some more desponding, some more cheerful, the following to the Dean of Salisbury, may be taken as a specimen : — 'Saturday, JvX]) 28, 1832, N. Lat. 4-10, W. Loug. 14-12, about 4300 miles from England by the Log, and 400 miles from Cape Palnias. *Did you ever see such a date with so many guides to the reader ? But such is the best method of giving you a correct notion of our present spot. We are hoping to meet some homeward bound vessel as we pass the Line, and I write in order to avail myself of the opportunity. We have had a most favourable passage thus far — not very quick, but most agree- able ; no storms, no heat, no calms, no rain. We are now entering the trade -winds, which will not leave us, as we hope, till we reach the Cape. The sea-sickness was a mere trifle ; in one week we had overcome it. But the real pressure upon the mind and body, is separation, the severing of all bonds of nature and habit, desolation of heart, the feeling of being alone and imprisoned on the wild barren boundless ocean, without the possibility of escape ; no change, no external world, no news, no communication. Then, the difference of diet, bad water, bad butter, bad tea, a rolling cot by night, and an uneasy ship 300 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XI. by day — the head confined, the heart withered, the capacity of thought and pra3^er lost ! These constitute the privations of a five or six months' voyage, undertaken for the first time in the fifty-fourth year of a minister's age, and after all his habits and associations have been buttressed and propped up by parish committees, public duties, a circle of brethren, and the endear- ments of a family. ' This is the dark side of the picture. Eeverse it — and all is brightness, joy, confidence in God, peace, anticipation, gratitude for being permitted to enter on such a design, and preparation for future duty. And all the previous chaos of feeling has its lesson. It constitutes a " dispensation," and draws one inward upon conscience, faith, prayer. These allure the heart out of itself, and from the sensible objects of discouragement, to God and His Sovereignt}^, Omnipresence, All-suflQciency, and then it arrives at peace, its true felicity and end. *I have been much reflecting on the mysterious course of events which have led me to this cabin as a Bishop of India, compared with my education as a boy destined for commerce, in December 1792. Then began that intercourse with my father-in-law, which led to my espousing his eldest daughter in 1803, to the parish of Islington, to the new churches, and from these to Calcutta. When I trace back this order of events, I am smitten with adoration at the mercy and comj)as- sion of the Lord ! If a single link had been w^anting in the chain — the whole would have fallen to j^ieces. Yes, my beloved friend, I look back like Jacob, to the time when with my staff I passed Jordan, and now I am become two bands. To the Lord only be all the praise ascribed ! My heart overflows with love and adoration to my God and Saviour, for all his mercies. And yet, other feelings perhaps surpass these — a sense of humiliation for my returns for all these benefits. I cannot enter upon this topic, it w^ould defeat its object.* But God knoweth my heart. What a sinner before my practical knowledge of the Gospel, and what a feeble w^andering soul since ! One more thought however equals, or ought to equal, this; — the desire to glorify God, and fulfil my duties in the SUPERINTENDENCE, and BISHOPRIC, now SO Unexpectedly entrus- ted to me. All my past history should make me the more 1832.] / THE VOYAGE TO INDIA. 301 anxious to amend, to rise a little higher, to acquire more wisdom, to act with more decision, promptitude, disinterested- ness, and consistency : to believe, love, and obe}" with more elevated and aspiring motives than ever. Nothing more easy than to mar the last scene of life ! But to fill it up with dignit}', meekness, discretion, holiness, simplicit}^ of aim : — this is the difficulty. Lord help me ! ' Another extract, from a letter to Lord Glenelg, will convey his first impressions of the Cape of Good Hope. 'Six o'clock Friday morning, August 31, 1832. ' We are now in full view of the magnificent Table ]Mountain overhanging Cape Town. No vessel bound homeward, has passed us since we left England. We discovered the faint outline of the African shores yesterday morning, but tlie breeze failed us as we drew nearer, and it was judged jmident to lay-to for the night. With this morning's dawn, however, the sails were again set, and by six o'clock, the whole range of mountains rose before us in gloomy majesty. Three or four series receding behind each other, and tolerably well defined by the varied shades, present tlie grandest prospect I have yet beheld. Even Switzerland fades in the comparison : except that the snow-capped glories of that country are wanting here. Table Mountain slu'ouds her top in the clouds, but the fine flat shelf for which she is celebrated, is conspicuous. The sun's rays are piercing between the ravines, and gilding the super- jacent clouds, thus adding the glories of contrast, to the other sublimities of the scene. All is heightened by the immense mass. It is not one or two solitary rocks, but piles upon piles, till the eye is wearied in attempting to pursue them. I have torn open my letter in the hurry of joy which fills every heart, to add this before I give it to the messenger for the post. We hope to land in the course of the day. We are about ten miles distant. W^e have been 9038 miles, by the log, from England in ten weeks, having left the shores of Cornwall on the 22nd of June.' The ten miles mentioned in this extract were soon overpassed. 30.^ THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XI. and the vessel glided with a fair light wind round Green Point, and entered Table Bay. Cape Town at once appeared in sight, and a boat put off from shore. The signals agreed on previ- ously in England, to announce the Bishop's arrival having met ^Yith. no response, suspicions were aroused that the despatches forwarded a month before the James Sihhald sailed, had not been received. This suspicion was confirmed when the Port Captain came on board : — no intelligence had been received, and the Bishop was not expected. It only remained to m^ake the best of this untoward circumstance, and to commu- nicate personally with Sir Lowr}^ Cole, the Governor. This was done forthwith, and the result was, an invitation to abide at the Government House. The Bishop therefore with his i)arty, landed at once, and v/as received with the utmost courtesy. Nothing could exceed his delight at feeling once more free. He WTtS soon walking up and down the extensive gardens attached to Government House, with a buoyancy and pleasure inexpressible. To tread upon the ground and feel it firm, was of itself exhilarating, after ten Vveeks of tossing and instability. It was now spring-time at the Cape. Eoses and geraniums were bursting into flower, strawberries and peas were showing their early promise, whilst the bamboo, the aloe, and banana offered shade, flowers, and fruit. Strange birds of various plumage flitted by. The crane and secretary-bird came to feed out of the hand. Children of all shades of colour stood about, whilst gardeners, black as jet, weeded the soil, or, as one said, " I smooths the floor." All this produced, for the moment, a kind of ecstacy as contrasted with the monotony and weariness of ten long weeks at sea. But the realities of life soon returned in the shape of a sumptuous dinner, and an introduction to the clergy and chief gentry in the town. The next day was passed in preparation for the Ej)iscopal duties which were required, and in mapping out the ten days of the Bishop's contemplated stay. On Sunday morning the schools were visited and Divine service performed in the Dutch Church, then used also by the / 1832.] THE VOYAGE TO IXDIA. 303 English. The Bishop preached a new and noble sermon from the words, " Where there is neither Greek nor Jew, circum- cision nor uncircumsion. Barbarian, Sc3'tliian, bond nor free, but Christ is all, and in all," (Col. iii. 2), and afterwards took part in the administration of the Holy Sacrament to nearly two hundred communicants. He was wearied with the duty, and spent the rest of the day in quiet social intercourse and family prayer. On Monday morning all the schools in Cape Town were examined, and amongst them Lady Frances Cole's admirable Schools of Industry. Eight or nine children vrere called out, and exhibited as having been rescued from slavery by the Philan- thropic Society, formed for that purpose. The price of the slave at an early age varied from 121, to 30Z., and females generally were selected for manumission, because the children of a freed woman were free, whereas the children of a freed man, marrying perchance a slave, were slaves. Instruction followed freedom, and then apprenticeship or marriage. The Infant School system was in full operation ; and with many a hearty laugh, the Bishop saw a little creature with skin black as a coal, eyes rolhng in its head, mouth stretching from ear to ear, selected from the group, and placed upon a stool to repeat in recitative some Enghsh infant hymn, to which fifty voices screamed a chorus. The whole town vied with the Governor and his family in courtesy, and the rest of the morning was occupied with receiving visitors. Tuesday was wet, and given to business, and the settlement of some matters in the Colony, by no means free from embar- rassment. Colonel Wade entertained the Bishop and a large party in the evening. On Wednesday two pieces of ground were consecrated, on which it was proposed to build churches : — one at AVynberg, a distance of seven miles, and one at Rondebosch, a distance of four miles. At the former of these places the Bishop preached. The building, then standing, was little better than a small barn, but all the celebrities of Cape Town crowded into it, and listened to a sermon, which at tlieir reiterated request was subsequently written out, and left behind for publication. In THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XI. the evening, the judges and authorities were entertained at Government House. On Thursday the Bishop attended a meeting of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and responded to an Address presented to him. He also suhscribed largely to the erection of some National Schools, and to the Philanthropic Societ}^ In the afternoon he enjoyed his only hoUday. Lad}'^ Frances Cole had planned a drive to Constantia, and four prancing Cape horses soon bore the party to the land of vine- yards and luscious wines. The vines as yet had made no sign, but the cellars were filled with the produce of former years, and a small quantity was bought for India. Novel scenes, beautiful scener}^, and cool bracing air characterised a da}-, closed pleasantly in social intercourse at Colonel Bell's, the Military Secretary to the Colony. Meanwliile, however, the examination of certain candidates for Holy Orders had been progressing from day to day, and on Friday the results were submitted to the Bishop. The viva voce examination followed, and all being deemed satisfactory, Sunday was fixed for the Ordination. In the interval, duty called to Simon's Bay, and six horses were found necessary to draw the carriage over quicksands by the sea- side, and rocks slightly hidden by sand, which consti- tuted, in parts, the then carriage road. The driver was a ]\Ialay, with a huge conical hat, a wooden leg, and a terrific whip. Pelicans stood fishing on the road-side. Penguins and divers studded the rocks. Whales' ribs sui^i^lied the place of hedge -rows. Everything combined to give novelty and interest to a drive, which in due time terminated at the house of Admiral Warren in Simon's Town. All there was in holiday trim : the shops shut up, the ships and public builduigs deco- rated with flags ; and in a little meeting-house rented by tlie Government for 601. per annum, the Bishop performed his first real Episcopal act. The whole community assembled, the Admiral was present, the Governor had ridden over in the morning, whilst the Bishop confirmed sixty-six young persons, and afterwards preaclied from the words: "I beseecli yon, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present / 1832.] THE VOYAGE TO INDIA. 305 your bodies, a living sacrifice, lioly, acceptable to God : -which is your reasonable service." (Romans xii. 1.) Many were afi"ected to tears, and the Governor begged for a copy of the sermon for his private use. After the service, preparatory steps were taken for the erection of a church at Simon's Town ; a letter was addressed to the Admiralty, and subscriptions commenced, which found the Bishop a ready contributor. All being thus put into a good train, he departed amidst every possible demonstration of kindness and goodwill. Sunday was assigned for the ordination ; and the Church of England now for the first time obeyed the call to send • forth labourers into this part of the vineyard. May she ever remain faithful to her trust ! Some necessary alterations were required in the only building available, and these were willingly allowed. At the appointed time every part of it was crowded to excess, and after preaching from the address of St. Paul to the elders of the Church at Ephesus, the ordination of the candidates was performed by the Bishop with the usual impressive services. Monday was the last day ; and though much pressed to prolong his stay, the wind was too fair and fickle to render it expedient, and a communication from the Captain decided the doubt in the negative. The morning, therefore, was given to the confirmation of two hundred and forty cate- chumens from Cape Town, many of them old and grey-headed. An affecting farewell address followed, closing the rehgious services of the visitation ; and then, with many tears, they bade the Bishop God-speed, and accompanied him to the ship. Llore true kindness to a stranger was never shown ; and some blessing seemed to return to every bosom. The Bishop's way had been made plain before him. The word he preached came with " demonstration of the Spuit and of power." He won all hearts in social intercouxse by cheerfulness and simplicity. The " secret of the Lord " in truth was with him in this beginning of his great work. The clue to all the success of his j)ublic efforts was easily traced, by those who knew what passed m private communion and intercourse 'v\ith God. In the closed chamber and by earnest prayer he renewed his strength. VOL. I. X 306 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap, XI. No sacred service was ever undertaken, no drawing-room ever entered, without " two or three " being called to kneel and seek prevenient grace and divine guidance. Hence words of wisdom; hence peace with God; hence a cheerful countenance; hence, above all, the blessing of God, which maketh rich and addeth no sorrow. The good savour of his visit long remained, and it served as a useful preparation for the more onerous duties of Calcutta. Three hundred persons had been con- firmed, two sites for churches and churchyards consecrated, four sermons preached. Holy Communion twice celebrated, an ordination held, a public meeting addressed, schools examined, pastoral letters to distant stations written, many valuable friends made, some charity dispensed, and a whole box of books left behind for gratuitous presentation. The ten days thus passed were, he says, amongst the most happy of his life, from " the relief, the contrast, the unexpectedness, the wide scenes of usefulness presented, and the spiritual blessings vouchsafed." At four o'clock that afternoon the ship was again under weigh for India. Upon the remamder of the voyage it is unnecessary to dwell. Several fresh passengers had been received at the Cape ; and this, with the sight of native servants and the sound of native languages, rather broke in upon the family feeling which had hitherto prevailed. Increased numbers also brought increased formality and a change of habits. Cards were introduced, and for a time the Bishop fretted at it ; but learning on enquiry that he was in no sense responsible, or called upon to express an opinion, he held his peace. With the sense of responsibility, the sense of uneasiness disappeared. His objections were to the waste of time, the loss of temper, the worldly spirit, and the insidious tendency to gambling, which the habit produced ; but he admitted that, if allowable anywhere, it might be on board a ship. He continued his studies, and drew closer to the missionaries and catechists of both societies, entering with them on a course of lectures in his private cabin, as preparatory to the Calcutta ordination. Sixty letters were also ^viitten to old friends at home. From these a few extracts may be given : — 1S32.] THE YOYAGE TO INDIA. 807 TO THE HEY JOHN HEXSMAN, CLIFTON. ' Octoler 2, 1832, 3. Lat. 33°, E. Locg. 75°. * Lest Calcutta slionld deprive me, as I fully expect it will, of all power of private correspondence, I seize a moment amidst the rolling and roaring of the desert sea to write to my beloved friend at Clifton, whose faithful affectionate kindness will never be effaced from m.y recollection, nor forgotten in my poor feeble prayers. Here I am, cooped up in a cabin, twelve feet by ten, having traversed twelve thousand miles of barren ocean, out of fifteen thousand, cut off from friends, country, the church, mankind ! Yet joyful still in faith and hope, sustained by a divine arm, comforted by the gracious Spirit of God, studying my future duties so far as I can foresee what they may be, cheered by the best of daughters, and anticipating with composure the scene of trial which is about to open upon me. ' The peculiar office of a chief pastor, overseer, superintendent, messenger, and servant of the Church (which are the Scriptural definitions of a bishop), occupies my daily thoughts, assisted by Hooker, Nelson, Hey, and other writers upon the subject. May God give me grace to make 1 Peter v. 1, 4, my model now, as I endeavoured to do when a simple presbyter entering on Islington eight years since. ' We have had a delightful passage as yet. We reached the Cape in seventy days, on August 31st, and after staying there ten days, have now^ done three thousand miles of the remaining six thousand which lie between the Cape and Calcutta. Oh ! my dear, dear friends, what will await me there ! How can I exhibit the pattern, exercise the jurisdiction, administer the doctrine and discipline, watch over the general interests of the Oriental Church, stretching over half a hemisphere, and num- bering one hundred and tliirty four millions of souls ! But, but Farewell. The Lord be with us, and work in us all his good pleasure, whether at Clifton or Calcutta.' x2 308 THE LIFE OF DAXIEL WILSON. [chap. XI. TO THE REV. WILLIAM JOWETT. 'Indian Ocean, October 12, 1832. ' It is a sensible pleasure to me to think I am writing to an old friend and colleague. Well do I remember the tour to Dublin in 1814, with dearest Mr. Pratt (to whom I have written) and yourself — the friendly discussions — the meetings and sermons — the more striking thoughts which fell from you ! Ah ! since that period you have had sixteen years at Malta, and I as many and more at St. John's and Islington ; and I humbly trust we have both been training for the stations we are filling now in the decline of life and strength. If you are permitted to guide the missionary helm of our beloved society at home (a most important office indeed, and increasingly difficult), and if I am permitted to assist in the oversight and superintendence of the Church in India, including your missions in its general and almost boundless embrace, we shall find all our former experience little enough for our circum- stances as they arise. * Of course it will be but little I can do for any particular cause, but what I can, I shall do with all my heart ; and with the greater pleasure, because I can open my mind to you as unto a brother in the Lord. * I am happy to give you a good account of your four students. My chaplain has assisted them with advice in their studies. They have, of course, attended our morning and evening prayers, and the two full services of the Sunday. As we are now approaching Calcutta, I have them twice a week in my cabin, to a series of lectures on the first epistle to Timothj-. We had the fourth this morning. Knorpp and Leupolt seem men of fine, consistent, well wrought piety.' TO THE EEV. CHARLES JERllAM, CHOBIJAM. * Odoher-i, 1832. * What a distance am I from all I love ! On what a wide waste ocean am I tost ! How desolate to the heart, how monotonous, how wearisome, what a void ! No friend, no news, no committees. 1832.] THE VOYAGE TO INDIA. 809 no calls, no magazines, no clerical meetings ! Bad bread, bad tea, bad milk, worse butter, worst water ; head aching, stomach half sick, bones sore, ship tossing pitching lurching ; days wearisome, nights disturbed, sabbaths storm}', means of grace full of distraction, the whole body and soul unnerved : — and yet, always rejoicing in the calling of God, delighting in the Bible, hovering from promise to promise, like a bii'd from spray to spray (as Cecil — dear name ! — woidd say,) looking off from the waves, to Him who rules them, enjojing sometimes nearness of access to the great High Priest through the Eternal Spii'it, more and more cheerful and thankful in the grace given me to be chosen to carry Christ's name before the Gentiles and Idngs, studying preparatory books and treatises, conferring with the East Indians amongst the passengers, comforted in daily prayer and reading morning and evening, raised and strengthened by pubKc services twice on the Sunday and the Sacrament each month, anticipating Calcutta with joy and filial trust in Christ my Lord, resigned to His will, and follow- ing Him like Abraham, though I know not whither I go. Such are the opposite reports ; one on the side of nature and external things, and most miserable ; the other on the side of grace, and the inward life of God, so far as it flourishes — which is little indeed. ' Still, having obtained help of God, I continue to this day and after reading over your letter of April 7th, feel more and more desirous of growing into the primitive and genuine character of a New Testament Bishop. May God grant me grace in some measm-e to do so ! Write to me often. You know me " intus et in cute." Farewell ! I am in excellent health and spirits. We are twenty-six at the table. Captain and officers obliging. All amongst us is right — but sin.' TO THE REV. JOSIAH PRATT. 'Ship James Sibbald, October 18^2. * The discipline of these four or five months is, I feel, more beneficial to me, because it was totally unexpected. I never dreamed till experience taught me the fact, that the worst part of India was the voyage. Even now, after fifteen weeks, I can 310 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XI. scarcely manage to hold my pen steadily enough to write a letter to a friend. However " by these things we live," as Mr. Cecil so often said. Whatever most thoroughly empties and abases man, and tears him off from external things, and drives him in and on his principles, is best for him. Alas ! the real movements of grace are feeble in the midst of outward prosperity, and all other springs must be dried up in order that this divine one may flow with any fulness. I shall often meditate on your letter and the advice it affords. My earnest desire is to act ui)on every part of it. Indeed, my dear friend, scenes long passed by, in which you w^ere my tutor and early guide, now recur to my recollection. I trace back the wonderful links of the chain which now binds me to my Kedeemer's Church in the East, to your and Mr. Cecil's first care of me ; and gratefully do I reflect on the tone of religion which you concurred in then setting before me, and which I have endeavoured to aim at ever since. Father Scott's comment is my companion — wholesome, arousing, nourishing to my inmost soul. Buchanan's six volumes are also doubly interesting to me, now I re-peruse them in my new and awful situation. Judicious Hooker I have also read over, after an interval of thirty years, wdth fresh ardour. But the Bible eclipses, surpasses, comprises all ! Never was its divine mystery of grace so much unfolded to my soul as now that I have nothing else to lean upon. I beg your prayers and your letters, and I particularly beg that nothing may be said about me or my doings. I dread talk, rumour, and misrepresen- tation.' But meanwhile sickness had appeared on board the ship, and death stood at the door of more than one cabin. The Bishop's daughter, at first the comforter of a friend, became ere long the sufferer ; every feeling of elation at tlie termina- tion of the voyage, was checked by deep anxiety; and the reception of the pilot on board on October 31st, was hailed rather as a relief to the sick, than as an introduction to the City of Palaces. Thus God mingled judgment with mercy, and the " bright vision " w^as brought down by the " over- shadowing cloud ! " 1832.] THE VOYAGE TO INDIA. 311 The sliip lay tossing in the yellow waters of Saugor for many hours ere the pilot dared to lift her anchor. But at length the wind, which had been raging fiercely for some days past, abated, and a steamer, coming up, took her in tow. The low mud banks of the Hooghly then came into view — the native villages — the Eastern foliage. Half naked boatmen pushed off with fruit and fish — both strange ; and at length every one on board began to feel that India was enclosing them in her warm embrace. The fii-st welcome came from a small steamer, anchored off Kedgeree. It had brought Daniel Corrie and Dr. Mill. The Bishop had long known the former, and when his tall portly figure and handsome benevolent countenance appeared on deck, he hastened forward, embraced, and kissed him on either cheek. Dr. Mill also was heartily greeted. To hasten to Calcutta was now the pressing object. Both steamers assisted, and about eleven o'clock on Sunday morning, Nov. 4th, the chain cable ran out, and the sliip swung round off Chandpaul Ghat. The Bishop was unwilling to land on Sunday, and therefore remained quiet: but under medical advice, the sick were removed at sunset, and sheltered in the Palace, where skilful treatment soon proved effectual, under God's blessing, for their recovery. On Monday morning, Nov. 5th, 1832, the Bishop landed under a salute from the Fort, and drove at once to Government House. The Governor-General was absent, but the Vice- President, Sir Charles T. Metcalfe, attended by his officials and aides-de-camp, received him at the entrance. After a kind welcome to India, and a short conversation, the Bishop drove to the Cathedral, and was at once installed by Archdeacon Corrie with the customary forms. AU this was in accordance with usage. About twenty clergy and missionaries were pre- sent, and were imited afterwards to meet the Bishop at dinner. He took that opportunity of makmg a short address, affec- tionate in tone, and descriptive of the course he proposed to adopt in the administration of his diocese. He had been before the Church to a certain extent, he said, for thirty years, and the principles he had always professed, he should still adhere to ; only endeavouring to fulfil the new duties to which '612 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XI. he was called, with the strictest impartiality. He begged their prayers, and assui'ed them that he wished to be regarded as a brother to the elder clergy, and a father to the younger. And now the stores were gathered from the ship, the horses landed, the books arranged, the sea voyage ended, and the Indian life began. it CHAPTER XII. INDIA. 1832—1834. Jurisdiction of the Incliau Episcopate — Its state on his arrival — First difficulty — How settled — First Sermons in the Cathedral — Correspondence with the Archdeacons and others — Marriage of his daughter — His Domestic Life and Personal Habits — Residence at Tittaghur — Bishops Heber and Turner — LordW. Beutinck, Governor- General — Ecclesiastical Questions — Free School — Lent Lectures — Clerical Meet- ings— Bishop's College — Ordinations — Confirmations — Native Baptisms — Infant Schools — Steam Communication — Begum Sumroo's fund — The new Charter — Church-buildiug fund for India — ^larriage and Divorce among native Christians — Relation of the Chaplain to the Government and the Bishop— The Indian climate — Correspondence. The jurisdiction of the Bisfiop of Calcutta in 1832, extended over territories which now constitute sixteen large and im- portant dioceses ; and was manifestly a burden too heavy to be borne.' It must not be supposed that he found abundant records, w^U-defined duties, and established precedents, as in England. On the contrary, everything was to be learnt. The Palace was a blank, the correspondence of his predecessors with the Government and clergy had disappeared, and the Registry contained little but a list of licensed chaplains. There was nothing for him, therefore, but to fall back on traditionary knowledge, to use great caution, to take advice, to act on first principles, and to meet events as they arose. The arrears of business happily were small; but the confusion of the first few weeks was indescribable. The visits of the whole society of Calcutta had to be received, its courtesy reciprocated, and its usages adopted. Unnatural hours, rendered necessary by the climate, had to be naturalised. Contradictory opinions and advice, on every conceivable topic, 1 Calcutta, Madras, Bombay, Colombo, Sydney, Melbourne, Newcastle, Adelaide, Perth, Tasmania, New Zealand, Whaiapu (New Zealand), Wellington, Nelson, Christ Church, Brisbane. 314 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. had to be sifted. Sixty or seventy servants, turned loose into the house, and speaking an unknown tongue, had to be recog- nised and mastered. Guests were to be entertained, and sick friends watched over, nursed, and cheered. It will easily be imagined that some time elapsed ere light shone upon this darkness, and order issued from this chaos. Meanwhile duties pressed, and an incident occurred fraught with embarrassment. Immediately on his arrival, the Bishop had informed the Presidency Chaplains of his intention to preach in the Cathedral on the following Sunday, and intimated a wish that his domestic chaplain should take part in reading the communion service on that occasion. He did this with all simplicity of heart, and in accordance with home usages ; and never for a moment supposed that any objection would be raised. But in this he was mistaken. When the intimation was conveyed to the Senior Presidency Chaplain in the most friendly manner, it was met by an immediate refusal, a denial of the Bishop's authority, and an expressed determination to take the part of the service alluded to, himself. This account, arriving on the Saturday evening, the question was waived for the time, and the service proceeded without change. But on the following morning it necessarily came under serious con- sideration. The Bishop was very averse to making his first episcopal act savour of severity. It appeared unwise to call for the interference of Government in a matter of spiritual jurisdiction. And above all, it Avas desirable to avoid an out- break at a time when the enemies of the Church were hold and her friends timid : when Prime Ministers were bidding Bishops set their houses in order : and when every outcry in India found a loud echo in England. At the same time it was impossible to overlook what had occurred, unless all discipline was to be relaxed, and e^^iscopal authority defied. Apart from these serious considerations, the case did not seem to be involved in much difficulty. It was not an English question. Chaplains were not in any sense incumbents. Whatever uncertainty therefore might have attended the discussion at home, where the rights of beneficed clergy were recognised and fenced by law, there could be none in India 1832-31] INDIA. 815 where there were no such benefices and no such fences, hut all was like an o-pen field, and each chaplain acted under the authority of Government and by the Bishop's license, and was removable from place to place at a moment's notice. The Bishop having therefore taken counsel with the Arch- deacon and others competent to advise, called for the attend- ance of the Presidency Chaplains, and with much courtesy and forbearance explained their position and the limits of their authority. But finding that his explanation did not produce (at least in one case) the desired effect, he called for the licenses under which they were acting, and perceiving that they were of old date and appertained to other stations, he cancelled them at once, and directed others to be prepared. In these, a clause was introduced, drawn by the highest legal authority in India, clearly defining the chaplains' rights whilst officiating in the Cathedral. This ended the controversy. Before the next Sunday they were summoned to take the customary oaths, and to be licensed. At the time appointed they attended, and having been again informed in precisely the same terms as before, of the Bishop's wish respecting his chaplain, they acquiesced, and received tlieir licenses. Thus all Avas overruled for good, and in the most effectual manner the clergy of the diocese found they had a Bishop. It was a lesson they had need to learn : for in earlier days each one had been accustomed to act very independently and look to Government for guidance or indulgence : whilst the frequent vacancies of the see, and the doubtful authority exercised at such times by the commissary, had prevented the establish- ment of the Bishopric from being attended with its fuU effect. The Bishop's first sermon had been preached in the Cathe- dral on November 11th, from the words, *' The unsearchable riches of Christ" (Eph. iii. 8). The second was now preached from the words, " Ye are not your own ; for ye are bought with a price : therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are God's " (1 Cor. vi. 20). On both occa- sions the congregations were very large, and all the authorities in attendance. Having thus delivered his message in the 316 THE LIFE OP DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. Cathedral, he went round preaching in all the other churches in Calcutta and the immediate neighbourhood. He visited also Bishop's College, the Church Missionary premises at Mirzapore, Mrs. Wilson's Native Schools, the Free School, and all the other religious and charitable institutions of the Presidency. He presided over meetings of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. He received a deputation from the British and Foreign Bible Society, and the Church Missionary Society, and accepted in both cases the office of President. The clergy were all entertained at the Palace ; and the missionaries and catechists assured of his unabated attachment and deep interest in their work. And having thus looked round upon all things near at hand, he cast his eyes on the distant parts of the diocese abroad. To Madras, Bombay, Ceylon, Australia — and even to China, he wrote letters, conveying, so to speak, the watchword of the diocese. Extracts from these may here be fitly given. TO THE YEN. ARCHDEACON GLENNIE, COLOMBO. * January^ 1833. * The applications to me for ordination seem increasing on all hands. The whole efficiency of the Church in India will depend on the piety, zeal, and talent of the clergy. Those sent out from home we must make the best of ; but those ordained in India are our own men, and must be men of God, men enlightened, sober, holy, evangelical (in the right sense of that much-abused term), and capable of propagating a primitive Christianity. * I am beginning to feel my way in the labyrinth in which the deaths of my revered predecessors have left the Indian Church. AVhat a scene opens before us ! If Christianity should begin to spread throughout our native population — Christianity, sound, pure, efiicacious, built upon the foundation laid in Zion, which is Jesus Christ, and animated with the life-giving Spirit of our God, what a blessing ! What an incredible honour to us, who shall be the instruments in aiding the work ! I am particularly anxious that conversion should flow in our 1S32— 34.] INDIA. 317 own cliaunel; that the Church of onr beloved countiy ma}' be exalted in the East, as she has been for three centuries in the West. * I hope to hear perpetually from the Archdeacons that my "eyes" and ears, and heai't may be informed and guided. Write fully and confidentially. Let us see what can be done for the glory of our Saviour, and the salvation of souls.' TO THE REV. THOilAS CARR, BOMBAY. ' Fehruari/, 1S33. ' Despatches from home concur with the information you have conveyed ; and as the Archdeaconry is now vacant, I beg to offer you the succession to it, for which I have directed the necessary documents to be prepared and forwarded. In doing this, I am influenced by nothing but the persuasion that you are the individual in the diocese most adapted for the due dischai'ge of its diflicult and important functions. The arch- deaconries are the only ecclesiastical offices which do not go by seniority : and I am most anxious to guard against the supposition, when a vacancy occurs, that the senior chaplain in the list is the most deserving and suitable in the Bishop's judgment. 'I have written to Lord Clare to announce your appointment. I enclose also a copy of a letter which I have addressed to his Lordship, in a way of protest against the table of fees having been published without the Bishop's sanction. Sad, sad has been the unsettling of the diocese since Bishop Middleton ! My anxious wish is to be permitted to " set in order the things that are wanting," and to leave my diocese somewhat more ready to the hand of my successor than it was i^ossible for me to find it. ' Real spiritual religion — sound, holy, scriptural, full of the Saviour, abounding in the fruits of the Spiiit, elevated above all petty quarrelsome points : — this is what we must preach and exhibit. And when to this is added a firm attachment to our Protestant Established Church, all is done that we can effect for the dischai'ge of the responsible duties committed to us. I pray God to bless you, and make you a blessing.' 31S THE LIFE OF DAXIEL WILSOX. [ciiap. xii. TO THE ACTING ARCHDEACON OF MADRAS. ' March, 1833. ' Allow me to urge upon jou a mild and wise forbearance. God will set all things right. You have been hardly dealt with, but there is no present remedy. I would venture to recommend to you also, not to let small things tease and distress yoM too much. Keep on broad, strong, essential topics — the vital truths of the Gospel, and the primary precepts of morals. We are too feeble to dwell on small matters : time is too precious to be devoted to small matters : and the mind of man is too contracted to embrace at once small matters and great.' TO THE YEN. ARCHDEACON BROUGHTON, NEW SOUTH WALES. ' ifarcA, 1S33. * I have long been intending to open a correspondence with you, well knowing the impossibility of your hearing soon of my arrival, and anxious to do the only part of my sacred office which it is in my power to execute — the part of friendly advice and consolation. ' I am the rather inclined to write at this time, because I have some copies of a sermon which I have just published, which I would beg of you to accept for yourself, and send with my best compliments to the clergy and persons of authority in your Archdeaconry.' * I need not state to you, dear sir, who are so well versed in all matters of divine knowledge, that the charge and episcopal care imposed upon me exceeds all human power to sustain. A visit to New South AVales or Van Dieman's Land may, * It is interesting to trace the effect of the sermon thus presented. The Archdeacon Eay?, The sermon excited a lively sensation here ; not only as setting forth a copious and most impressive ivummary of doctrine, but also as affording (what was exceedingly wanted here) a comprehensive statement of the argument on behalf of the EpiscopaJ form of government, and in support of a national Established Church." The mode adopted for giving publicity and general circulation to the sermon was as follows : — The Archdeacon himself was in temporary charge of St. James', Sydney, and he read from the pulpit the Bishop's sermon instead of his own, dividing it into two portions. The same coarse was pursued by all the other clergy. " Thus," the Archdeacon Bays, " the labour bestowed for the edification of those who came within actual hearing of their spiritual father and guide, was made effectual for the instruction and comfort of many who, in a bodily sense, were placed altogether beyond his reach." 1832-"3i.] it INDIA. 819 indeed, arise as a refuge prescribed to infirmity or sickness, but can scarcely be contemplated if health be continued. *But I can wish j'ou " good speed in the name of the Lord." I can daily pray for you, and the clergy, and flocks committed to your care. I can write occasionally, as I now do, to exhort, and admonish, and animate you to " make full proof of your ministry." * Let us begin, dear sir, with ourselves, by preaching the Apostolical doctrine of salvation by grace through faith in the sacrifice of the eternal Son of God. * Let us sustain our doctrines by the gracious temper and carriage of our public and private conduct. ' Let us close the whole by watching over our brethren the clergy in a friendly but faithful spirit. * From us the tone of Christianity will very much be taken — the standard of the Gospel fall or rise — the Christian walk and behaviour be regulated. What a responsibility ! If we mistake the genius of the Gospel, if we err by omission or excess, what evils do we unconsciously propagate ! * I know of nothing which can preserve us, but — * 1st. Constant vigilance over the life and progress of religion in our own hearts. * 2nd. Constant superiority to the fashion and current opinions of the day in which we live. ' 3rd. Constant and close imitation of the manner of preaching proposed in the Acts of the Apostles for the unconverted, and in the holy Epistles for the pious and devout. *4th. Constant reference to the lives and spirit of the first Fathers of the Church, Cyprian, Ambrose, Austin, &c. ; of the early reformers, Cranmer, Luther, Calvin, &c. ; of the leading and most successful missionaries, Swartz, Gericke, Brainerd, H. Martyn, &c. ' 5th. Constant prayer to God for the influences of His holy Spirit, which are as essential to life as the air we breathe, and to the refreshment of our souls as the dew which penetrates and fertilises the ground. 320 THE LIFE OF DANIEL \YJLSOK [chap. xir. * But I forbear. Allow me your forgiveness for the free- dom of my first — and it may well be my last — letter to my Archdeacon of New South Wales, whom I "know not after the flesh," but whom I " long after in the bowels of Jesus Christ." 'I beg you to remember me to my dear old friend, Mr. jNIarsden, if he is still well.' TO THE EEV. ELIJAH C. BEIDGAIAN, AMERICAN MISSIONARY, CHINA. 'March, 1883. * I should have replied to your kind letter much sooner, if I had not been anxious, if possible, to read over the interesting pamphlets accompanying it. I will no longer defer assuring you of my sincere thanks. Your post of labour is, indeed, most extensive and difficult. But I cannot doubt that the power of our Lord will at length be displayed, and the Celestial Empire," as it is impiously called, be penetrated with the light and truth of Christ. ' The labours of Mr. Gutzlaff appear especially promising, as they are bold and daring. Your own country, dear sir, seems also likely to take a large share in the glorious work of illuminating mankind. America is dear to every English- man ; and never will she shine out more splendidly than when from her populous and revived churches she pours the stream of missionaries along the arid deserts of China and Hindustan. 'My object here is the superintendence and oversiglit of our Episcopal Church, scattered over all the territory subject to the East India Company, according to the primitive plat- form of discipline. But my heart is, I trust, with all of every church, who in peace and holiness pursue the same great cause. Tell me how in any manner I can best serve you, and you may command me. In the meantime, mutual intercession and prayer to the throne of our divine Redeemer will bring down assuredly abundant blessings ; and ere we are aware, perhaps, " showers of blessings," as the Prophet speaks, may fall around the Hill of Zion, and " nations be bom in a day." ' 1832-34.] INDIA. 821 As the mind follows these letters to their several destinations, it is easy to imagine the effect produced by their faitliful and animating appeals. But the attention must now be drawn to home scenes, domestic arrangements, and first impressions, as preceding those matters of business which will soon pass before the eye in long procession. The first impressions made upon the Bishop's own mind are recorded in letters to his children at home. ' Novemler, 1832. ' Three weeks have passed since the pilot came on board. I have been perfectly well. The opening sphere is immense and overwhelming. I shall anxiously await the progress of the New India Bill, and take no steps with regard to the other Presidencies till I know the final plans. ' My time has hitherto been distracted and absorbed beyond conception. All ecclesiastical matters have been falling to pieces from the repeated vacancies of the see, and the novelty of the Bishopric itself. I rise about five every morning, ride on horseback for an hour, then bathe and dress and have an hour to myself. We breakfast at eight o'clock, have prayers at half-past, tiffin or luncheon at one, dinner at seven, evening prayers at half-past eight, and at nine I am retiring to bed.' ' Dccemhcr, 1832. * My view of the prospect before me widens every day, if only God vouchsafes me grace and strength to occupy the station as it stretches out before me on every hand, and to sustain me under the accompanying trials of every kind, which imist arise — or I should want the testimony of the Cross. I am waiting the next arrivals to receive the Islington presents and to hear the result about the Suffragan Bishops. Say nothing about me to any one, but in the way of prayer.' ' January, 1833. * Never have I had such health for these ten years as I have VOL. I. Y 322 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. had since the pilot came on hoard the James Sihhald. We have had a mournful account of the shipwreck of that vessel off Coringa, in the Bay of Bengal, with Mrs. Corrie and her family on board, and an immensely rich cargo. Oh ! what additional cause of gratitude to that good Providence which favoured us with a beautiful and safe passage. ' The suitableness of the post to my habits, disposition, and practice of business ; the delight I have in it ; the importance of the opening prospects and apparent blessings, overwhelm my mind. ' Man}^ of our duties are not obvious, prominent, obtrusive, ostentatious ; but are only the more momentous, because to a great extent secret, interior, matters of influence, requiring wisdom, zeal, promptitude : that is, they are the mighty range of duties which the mind of a bishop) ought to aspire, and will aspire to fill, as the circle opens before him, and his own influence can command the means.' 'February, 1833. ' With regard to spiritual, moral, ecclesiastical, domestic, and personal matters, all is well. Health excellent, duties delight- ful, useful openings on all hands, difficalties lessening, love kindling, clergy drawing round. To God our Saviour be all the praise. The "hour of temptation " is not yet come — God sparing our weakness for the present. Come it will, and in various forms. May it not seem a " strange thing " to us ? Why should it? But may we the rather stoop our necks to the stroke, and our shoulders with meek silence to the Cross.' * 3farch, 1833, ' Business thickens upon me immensely and inconceivably. But I delight in it. I am in excellent health and spirits, but must be ever ready, " with loins girt and lamp trimmed," for at such an hour as I think not the Son of Man cometh. The hot weather is creeping on, and the temperature rising from 76° to 85°. Believe nothing that you hear about me. A thousand exaggerations on the unfavourable or favourable side will be sent over. Every one judges according to the face of 1832—34.] INDIA. 323 the pentagonal building which he happens to select. God is the only judge.' ' March, 1833. * The impression on my mind, from the glance I have taken of things, is that a most interesting moment is dawning upon India. The native mind is at work. No impediments to instruction are offered by the people themselves. A beginning of things is already made. But all wants inspection, caution, permanency. The Church of England is peculiarly adapted to be the nurse of the infant churches so soon as she shall be firmly seated in India.' Before the close of the year 1832 the Bishop was deeply interested by the marriage of his daughter to his chaplain. He performed the ceremony himself in the cathedral, Sir Charles Metcalfe, the Vice-President, giving away the bride. A large bridal party was entertained at the palace ; and after a short interval, he joined his children at Barrackpore, and took his first peep at the luxuriant vegetation and niagnificent scenery of that country which he afterwards traversed far and wide. The Bishop had long resolved that he would not be in India . as a " wayfaring man that turneth aside to tarry for a night," It was to be henceforth his home, and he determined to surround himself, as far as possible, w4th home comforts, and to use all the means suggested by experience for preserving life and prolonging usefulness. He had been advised to remain for two years in Calcutta in order to become acclimated^ and he acted on this advice. The house in which he lived was provided by the Government, but was entirely unfurnished. On each vacancy of the see, the internal fittings fell, of course, to the executors, and disappeared. It wdll be seen hereafter how the recurrence of this serious inconvenience was prevented; but when the Bishop arrived in 1832, he found just so many chairs and tables ordered in from the Bazaar, as sufficed to make the noble rooms look miserable. '* Why is this ? " he asked of Archdeacon Corrie, to whom Y 2 324 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. he had written from England, requesting him, without limit, to provide such things as were needful. " I thought, my Lord, that there was enough to last for six months," was the reply of the Archdeacon. He had acted with all simplicity, on the impression produced by past sad experience, and had not admitted the idea that life would be prolonged more than six months. The Bishop smiled, but immediately gave the necessary orders, and in due time the palace was completely and handsomely furnished. Nothing was gorgeous, but all was good. It was the same with his equipages. A large double-bodied close carriage with Venetians all round the sides to admit the air, and a double roof to exclude the sun, was built for him. This was for Government House, the Cathedral, official visits, and all occasions which required exposure during the heat of the day. For the short journey, or the evening drive, a light barouche was found more convenient. The servants were all designated by a simple and appropriate livery common in the East. The " silver sticks," appertaining to his rank, and left by his predecessors, were put into the hands of his Hurkaru and Chobdar, and generally used. All the means were provided for entering into society, and reciprocating its courtesies. He accepted invitations, and gave parties. He always reserved to himself the privilege of retiring very early, but whilst in company he was cheerful and friendly, and his hearty laugh often ran like electricity around the table. In common conversation he could not be said to excel. Of the small coin which passes current in society he had not much, and hence the measures, more or less important, with which his mind was full, became the topics of his discourse. The names of the helpers or the hinderers almost necessarily followed ; and things were often said which had better have been left unsaid. In all this he was like a man without guile. Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth spoke ; and he found, as many do, that repentance was easier than amendment. A few months after his arrival he rented a most pleasant country-house, called The Hive," at Tittaghur. To this beautiful spot on the banks of the Hooghly, about thirteen 1832—34.] INDIA. 825 miles from Calcutta, lie generally retired for two or three days each week. He was enabled there to carry on his corres- pondence and transact important business, free from the inces- sant interruptions of the city ; whilst the change of air, the flowing river, the perfect quiet, and the lovely scenery, tended to calm his mind and renew his strength. All these things necessarily involved great expense, and in the first six months of his episcopacy he had expended 4500Z. This was more than a year's income ; for although fixed by Act of Parliament at 5000Z., it had been reduced by some quibble in the rate of exchange to 42,000 rupees, or about 4200?. This expenditure, however, was foreseen and cheerfully borne. To fill with dignity the station to which he had been called — to obtain every alleviation of which the climate ad- mitted— to be able to encounter the sun when necessary without danger — to provide means of recreation when duties pressed — all these were as means to an end : they subserved his great object, and were done with forethought and deliberation. Still it was soon perceived that Calcutta was like Jerusalem in the olden time. There w^ere children sitting in the market- place, and calling one to another, and saying, " We have piped unto you, and ye have not danced ; we have mourned to you, and ye have not wept." Bishop Heber had been blamed for neglecting etiquette : Bishop Wilson was blamed for observing it. Bishop Turner had been censured for keeping no establishment, seeing little society, being little known, and failing, consequently, in acquiring that influence which he often needed in carrying out his wise and practical measures. Bishop Wilson was accused of ostentation, for keeping open house, for using hospitality, and for acquiring in this way valuable friends and extensive influence. But wisdom is justified of all her children. His personal habits at this time w^ere very simple and regular. He rose early, and rode on a small black horse, brought from the Cape, wdiich for a time, was able to take care both of itself and its master, and by an easy amble gave air without effort. Private devotions were succeeded by family 326 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. prayers in the chapel which he had liimself fitted up. His chaphiin, from the reading-desk read the appointed lesson, and he from his seat, expounded and prayed. A hearty breakfast of rice, fish, and soojee (a kind of porridge), followed. The morning was then given to business. After mid-day he rested, and generall}^ slept for two hours, and though business went on, he was never disturbed. Eefreshed by sleep, he was ready for the afternoon dak, and for any matters that pressed for decision. The evening ride or drive, and the late dinner followed : family prayers and evening devotions closed the day. Good appetite and sound sleep, the two pillars of good health, sustained liim during the many years of his Indian course. He was indefatigable in acquiring information. Every chaplain as he visited the Presidency, each missionary when he called on business, travellers like Dr. Woolff from far countries, all civil and military servants with whom he came in contact, were put under contribution. No pains were spared, no opinion despised, no advice rejected. A visit to Dr. Carey at Serampore elicited many interesting reminiscences of the early Christianity of India. A visit to Bussipugla gave reality to the missionary work now carrying on. A friendly conver- sation with Dr. Duff furnished important information on the subject of native education. All was written down at the time in a MS. book, and preserved for future perusal, enlargement, or correction. He was, in truth, thoroughly a man of business. His heart was in his work. It engrossed even his morning ride and evening drive. "When others, weary with a sleepless night or breathless day, sought the early bracing air or cool evening breeze, and felt totally unfit for business, he seemed fit for nothing else, and to like nothing half so well. Join him — and the business of yesterday, the plans of to-day, the projects for to-morrow, were instantly brouglit uj)on the tapis ; and matters discussed already many times, were discussed at full length once more. It was thus he developed his ideas and fixed his x^urposes. His mind was cleared and made up, not so much by thought, as by conversation. Tlie repetition caused him no weariness. Business was his recreation and delight. 1S32— 34.] INDIA. 327 In this lie soon found one like-minded. Immediately after his arrival in India, a courteous greeting was received from Lord AVilliam C. Bentinck, the Governor-General, then absent on a tour of the Upper Provinces. It was as follows : — • Camp, Allyghub, Noveniber 13, 1S32. ' Permit me in a very few words to express the very great satisfaction that I feel from your safe arrival. I do not congratulate you on your appointment, because I know by my own experience how much of various annoyance you have to endure. But to this great population your coming affords the promise of very great benefit. There is much wanting to be done, and nobody so likely to contribute largely to its accom- pHshment as yourself. I beg that you will look upon me as a sincere friend and zealous coadjutor. ' I shall be in Calcutta, if health permit, the first week in February ; and shall be most happy at that time to give you every information which an anxious desii'e to investigate every part of the working of this great machine has enabled me to acquire. ' Lady William and I very much regret that we were not in Calcutta to receive you. ' May I beg you not to forget, (indeed you have too many sad examples to keep alive the recollection), that you are come to a most treacherous climate, and that no relaxation of the most constant care can be safely allowed. But with a rigid adherence to caution, I do not believe there is a more liveable climate in India, and particularly for persons who are delicate ; because, although there is a dampness and humidity in the atmosphere of Calcutta that produces constant languor, yet you are saved from those extremes of heat and cold which in these Uj)per Provinces are so injurious to the constitution, 'With my best wishes for your health, happiness, and success, I have, &c.' On the morning of February 2nd, the booming of the guns at Fort William announced the arrival of the Governor- General, and on the same evening, without ceremony, or any intimation of his purpose, he called upon the Bishop. Xothing 328 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSONo [chap. XII. could be more friendly than liis first address. " I never was more pleased in my life," lie said, than when I heard of your ai^pointment." " God grant," observes the Bishop, com- menting upon these words, " that his Lordship may have no cause for regret hereafter." The visit was returned on the following morning, and an intercourse, friendly and confidential, at once commenced. Each morning, when the Bishop cantered to the course, he found Lord William on horseback, ready for him. After a short conversation, out would come a little strip of paper, which the Bishop always carried with him, covered with ten or twenty topics for discussion. Easy matters would soon be settled, difiicult ones reserved, doubtful ones dropped. Much business was thus transacted ; and, though there were some attendant disadvantages, yet the result upon the whole was good ; for friction was prevented, matters which appeared dis- tasteful were not pressed, and many things were yielded as a personal favour, which would have been refused to an ofiicial application. On ecclesiastical questions there were serious differences of opinion. Both the Supreme Court of Judicature and the Ecclesiastical establishment were stumbling-blocks to Lord William. He considered that " a great mistake had been made in introducing them into India : that the Home Judicial establishment had done decidedly a great deal of harm, and the Home Ecclesiastical establishment but little good." " Lord William called on me," says the Bishop, a month after his arrival, " and we talked for half an hour. I asked for his support for the Church of England. He said that * Christianity ' was his object. I said, that Christianity must be propagated under some form or other, or all experience proved that it would flicker and go out. I told him, that it seemed to me evident that with a feeble peo^Dle like the Hindoos, there must be creeds, a liturgy, and an established ministry, in order to give Christianity permanency and strength." Again, writing to Mr. Charles Grant, he says, " Lord and Lady William are a blessing to India. We differ widely about establishments, ike. : but what is that compared to a difference, 1832—34.] INDIA. 329 which might easily occur, about the good of India, tlie interests of the natives, and the diffusion of Clnistianity, on which we are strongly agreed." And again, later, " Lord William is rather more of a Whig, and less of a Churchman, than I could desire, but incomparably better than the highest Churchman, if without piety, vigour, and activity. Lord William reverences religion, and its sincere professors and ministers, but he has prejudices against bishops, ecclesiastical establishments, and national churches." But the various matters of business which occupied the Bishop during these two years of his residence in Calcutta, now demand attention. They may advantageously be ranged under different heads ; and each topic, once touched upon, will be sufficiently discussed, and not again resumed. The Free School comes first in order. It was a noble institution, where three or four liundi-ed children of both sexes were taught, clothed, fed, and trained for future life. It was founded in the year 1789, by the liberality of the civil and military servants of the Company for the benefit of the East Indian and Portuguese inhabitants of Calcutta. Nearly sixty thousand rupees were raised, and entrusted to a body called the Select Vestry (which will hereafter come prominently into notice), and six elective governors. By the addition of the funds of an old Calcutta charity wliicli had a similar object in view, this amount was largely increased, and in the year 1790, the sum available for the purposes of the Free School exceeded three lacs of rupees, or 30,000Z. To the income derived from this source, a large amount was added by annual subscriptions and church collections. A grant also was made by Government, which gave it a potential voice in all matters connected with the charity. For a long time previous to the Bishop's arrival, dissension had been brooding amongst the governing body, but it now broke out into open strife, and aroused all Calcutta. It was asserted by a body of Reformers, and as stoutly denied by a body of Conservatives, that abuses had crept in, and that the children were the sufferers. On this point issue was joined, 330 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOK. [chap. xir. and party spirit rose so high and raged so fiercely, that all came well nigh to a dead lock. Meeting after meeting of the most violent character was held, and soon after the Bishop's arrival, he was called upon in his official capacit}^ as Patron, to interfere, and see if any way of escape could be found. Having obtained that general information which was desirable, he resolved as a preliminary and healing step to invite all the governors to a handsome entertainment ; and then, when hearts were opened somewhat, he spoke of the scandal which had been caused, and invited free discussion. At the word, all the elements of accusation and recrimination broke loose ; and after three hours the one single point of agreement was only this : — that the Bishop should be requested to arbitrate in the matter, calling to his help such assessors as he might please. Having learnt that the acceptance of the trust thus com- mitted to him would be very agreeable to the Government, he consented to accept it ; and all the documents and minutes of proceedings for many years past were handed over to him and carefully perused. In ten days his mind was made up, and his award prepared. It involved a total oblivion of the past, and the framing of a new constitution for the future. In order to facilitate the adoption of this new constitution, the Bishop laid down his own office, and recommended all others to do the same. The assessors agreed to his proposal : the Governor- General approved of it : and on March 5th, 1833, the governors were again convened. The reading of the award in their presence excited a great " sensation." Some praised loudly, some listened silently ; but any decision on its merits was reserved to a future day and another meeting. In the interval discontent continued smouldering, and in order to prevent its breaking out into a flame at the public meeting, the Bishop again invited all parties concerned to a private conference. Forty gentlemen of weight and influence, all connected with the institution, responded to his invitation, and assembled at the breakfast- table of the palace. The coup cVoeil was not promising. They at once divided into little groups, as the attractive or repulsive influence prevailed ; and after breakfast there was an outbreak of ill-humour which the Bishop himself 1832—34.] INDIA. 331 found it difficult to restrain. The whole labour seemed to have been in vain, and the strength spent for nought. The party separated, and the public meeting, fixed for the morrow, was looked to with considerable apprehension. Happily it proved to be unfounded. The preliminary discussion had acted like a safety valve : ill-humour had found vent and evaporated. All was harmony. Certain persons resigned office ; the award was unanimously accepted ; the patronage was settled ; new governors were elected ; and the Bishop was cordially thanked " for his kind and conciliating conduct and successful endea- vours to promote peace." All this was to the Bishop a subject of grateful praise, as every former step had been a subject of fervent prayer. It was a rare, if not a singular instance, of successful mediation in India, and of peace made without the intervention of Government. The following entry appears in the Bishop's private notes, which have been already referred to : — ' March 17, 1833. 'Major Benson, ^Military Secretary to the Governor-General, called yesterday, and told me that my award had given great satisfaction, and would tend to increase the influence of my office. To Thee, O Lord, be ascribed all the praise that is due for all that Thou art pleased to work ; and do Thou set before Thy servant an open door in India, and may no man shut it.' Lent Lectures. — Two courses of Lent Lectures had mean- while been going on at the Cathedral, and were continued year by year when the Bishop was in Calcutta. One course was preached on Sunday mornings, when the subject was the FaU, Corruption, and promised Restoration of man, as recorded in the book of Genesis ; and the other on Friday evenings, when the subject was the Creed. This last was rendered necessary by the overflowings of infidelity at the time. The evil had spread so far, that on the Bishop's arrival a copy of "Paine's Age of Reason " was put into his hands — one of a large edition printed by some who "professed and called themselves Christians" for the 332 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. xii. perversion of the educated and enquiring natives. The Arch- deacon and clergy had heen compelled to print " Watson's Apology " as an antidote. But the Bishop's former familiarity with the Evidences of Christianity enabled him to meet the evil full front, and the plague was stayed. The congregations on these occasions increased rapidly ; and for Calcutta, where every one is seated in an arm-chair, became very large. The ancient custom of counting each one present during divine service was still continued, and thus the increase on Friday evenings from four hundred and thirty-eight to eight hundred and sixty-four during this Lent becomes a matter of record. The Bishop's private reflections at this time are as follows : — * Humbly would I desire to praise God for His goodness, and to leave this my testimony to the divine mercy in Christ Jesus. I have never repented for a moment of coming out. I have, on the contrary, found everything to rejoice my heart in my Lord's work. India is my delight and joy. ' Lord, pardon what is of man : accept and bless what is from Thyself ; direct and strengthen for the time to come. ' O Lord, let me not miss the points which I, in my actual situation, ought to keep in view for Thy glory, the welfare of the Church here, and tlie salvation of India. But prepare me for future usefulness, whenever and under whatever circumstances that usefulness may be vouchsafed. * Sustain thy servant, Lord, under the trials, oppositions, disappointments, and various chastisements which must and will arise. ' Be glorified, 0 Lord Jesus, in my body whether it be by life or death.' Clerical Meetings. — One of the earliest acts of tlie Bishop was to establish a series of clerical meetings, which he was accustomed for a time to call " semi-official synods." He had found the elements of disunion working amongst the clergy of Calcutta and the neighbourhood, and he thought that these meetings held monthly at the palace under his own eye, might have a healthy influence in promoting unity : " not, however," as he says himself, " unity of opinion in tlie bond of ignorance, 1832—34 ] INDIA, 333 nor unity of profession in the bond of hypocris}^ but the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace." Hence the following circular letter : — 'I request the favour of your company to dinner, on Monday, Jan. 7, 1833, at six o'clock, and on each succeeding first Monday in the month at the same hour. It is my design in the evenings of those days to attempt something of those conferences which the primitive church so much valued, and which give an opportunit}-, without creating expectation or imposing restraint, for the consideration of incidental matters of doctrine, discipline, or conduct affecting our mutual duties. Such meetings may contribute to the relief of our minds when anxious and depressed, and to the promotion of that heartfelt unity on which the prosperity of our apostolical infant church in India so much depends. * I propose to begin the synod (if by a misuse of the word it may be so termed) at 7*30, and to close at 9*30. The details will be a matter of further arrangement.' The monthly meetings, thus commenced, were continued till the Bishop's death. Latterly, when compelled to abstain from evening engagements, they w^ere held in the morning, and dinner exchanged for breakfast. The invitation was always prepared by the Bishop himself, and sometimes he inserted a little reminder or remonstrance when attendance flagged. Some embarrassment occasionally arose from the conflict of opinions; and the matter became somewhat delicate, when in the exercise of jurisdiction any of the clergy had fallen under the Bishop's censure. But on the whole the advantages preponderated over the disadvantages. Personal friendships were strengthened, and asperities softened. The clergy knew each other better, and the movements of the diocese were more clearly under- stood. Prayer was heard and answered, and the influences of God's Holy Spirit often abundantly vouchsafed. The average attendance was twenty or twenty-five, and the range of subjects for discussion very wide and varied. " Inter- cessory Praj^er," " Early piety," "Confirmation," " The public 334 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. press," The marks of God's presence with a Church," " The missionary spirit," " The use and abuse of affliction," — such are specimens of the first topics. The Bishop always opened the discussion himself, preceding it by a statement of measures in progress, or completed, for the welfare of the diocese. AVhen he ceased, each clergj^man present was called upon in turn to express his opinion, and thus the question went round till the hour came for adjourning to the chapel. Copious notes were taken in shorthand by the Bishop of all that passed ; and these still remain, an inter- esting record of clerical opinions. Bishop's College. — This noble institution attracts the eye of every visitor to Bengal. It stands upon the banks of the Hooghlj^, at the entrance of Garden Reach, and forcibly recals home scenes and happy recollections of university life. In 1832, the external buildings were complete, and the internal machinery in motion : but as yet the pupils were few, and the results poor. It was presided over by Dr. Mill, whose high reputation, wonderful memory, and stores of Oriental learning, proved admirable qualifications ^or the post. Of the two professors, one was soon withdrawn, and the other, after many intervals of failing health, succeeded to the office of Principal, and held it for some years with credit and good success. The introduction of the college into the ecclesiastical system of India was not unattended with embarrassment. The statutes had appointed the Bishop of Calcutta an ex- officio visitor. All pecuniary matters were supposed to i^ass under his cognisance, and all bills on the Society at home wxre drawn by him. A certain responsibility was laid thus upon the Bishop, whilst a certain measure of independence was naturally sought by the college authorities. Difficulties almost necessarily arose. Bishop Turner had been disposed to withdraw from all interference. Archdeacon Corrie, as commissary during the vacancies of the see, had withdrawn. On Bishop Wilson's appointment, the Incorporated Society for the Propagation of the Gospel had earnestly commended the college to his care ; and he had willingly responded, and left England with a firm determination to forget the past, and do 1832—34.] INDIA. 335 all he could to promote the prosperity of the institution for the future. On his arrival, he drew near to the college authorities, and his advances were met with all courtesy. Where firmness was necessary, he was firm, as many a long letter remains to testify ; but all was mingled with much personal kindness and respect. On his first visit, he found in one of the turrets two rooms set apart for the " Visitor," and called by his name, but unfurnished and unused. The word was spoken, the proper person sent over, and every convenience at once provided. He needed not now to be a guest of the Principal, or professors. His rooms were always ready to receive him. He could go over when he pleased, do business with the bursar, summon the students, occupy his seat at chapel, observe what passed, and express his wishes as they arose. Thus was much vantage- ground simply and easily obtained, whilst facilities were afforded for frequent and kindly intercourse. Further details are not now necessary, for Bishop's College will often require mention in the further progress of this narrative. Ordinations. — The first ordination was held on the Epiphany after the Bishop's arrival, when two deacons were ordained, and seven admitted to priest's orders. Amongst these were five of the companions of his voyage. All subsequent ordinations were framed on the same model. The whole week was occupied ; and during it the candidates were entertained at the palace. Lectures were given each day at morning prayers from one of the Epistles of Timothy or Titus. These were taken down, and subsequently given in by the candidates. The usual questions and exercises in divinity, and sermon writing were added. The viva voce examination was on Saturday, and to this the clergy who were to take part in the " laying on of hands," were called. The papers were also submitted to them : and when all were satisfied, the candidates were addressed, and welcomed to the respective offices about to be conferred on the morrow. On this first occasion the Bishop preached himself, and his sermon was subsequently printed at the request of the clergy. His text was from the words, " To open their eyes and to turn them from darkness unto light, and from the power of Satan 336 THE LIFE OF DAKIEL WILSON. [chap. xii. * unto God " (Acts xxvi. 17). The cathedral was crowded : the congregation seemed deeply impressed : and about a hundred and twenty received the Holy Communion. This was the sermon, extracts from which now form a valuable tract on the list of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, entitled, " Bishop Wilson's Apostolical Commission considered." Confirmations. — On Tuesday, April 2nd, 1832, the Bishop held his first Confirmation in India. Four hundred and seventy persons appeared in the cathedral, and participated in the sacred rite. Of these, more than one hundred were native Christians. Their numbers excited great astonishment at the time, and no small apprehension as to the effect upon those that were " without." They clustered round the com- munion rails, whilst the Europeans filled the body of the cathedral. The services were read, and the rite administered separately. The many confirmations following this first, seemed always to be attended with a blessing. The Bishop's manner was most impressive, and his words most earnest and affecting. He usually gave two addresses ; one hortatory before the administration, and one practical after it. The full assent of the catechumens he almost always required to be repeated twice, and sometimes thrice, till the church resounded with the words, " I do." And in the second address he was accustomed to deliver seven rules, which were to be repeated after him at the time, and written in the Bible or the Prayer Book after- wards. Subsequently they were expanded and printed, but originally they were short and sententious, as follows : — * 1 . Pray every day of your life for more and more of God's Holy Spirit. ' 2. Prepare at once for receiving aright the Holy Sacra- ment of the body and blood of Christ. * 3. Bead every day some portion of God's Holy Word. ' 4. Beverence and observe the Holy Sabbath. * 5. Keep in the unity of the Church. ' G. Avoid bad company, and seek the company of the good. * 7. When jou have got wrong, confess it, and get right as soon as you can.' 1832—34.] INDIA. 837 In many a Bible and Prayer Book tlirouglioiit India, these words will be found written : by many a civilian, soldier. East Indian, and native Christian have they been repeated and treasured up. "Please, sir, will j'ou give us our seven duties:" w^as the constant request to the Bishop's chaplain after service. A copy of them was always made and left behind at every station, for the use of those who had been confirmed. Many interesting, and some curious incidents occurred in connection with them, of which the followmg are specimens : — On one occasion, when the Confirmation was concluded in a large military station, and the Bishop was resting for a few minutes in the vestry, a young and noble looking English soldier hastily entered, and made his military salute. On being questioned, it appeared that he had been a candidate for confirmation, and was duly prepared, but having been on guard, he was too late for the ceremony, and came now to express his sorrow, and see if his case admitted of a remedy. For a while the Bishop doubted ; but his interest was roused by hearing the soldier plead previous knowledge, and say that he had been a boy in the Islington Parochial Schools, that he had often been catechised in that church, and that he had heard the Bishop's last sermon. " Kneel down," said the Bishop. He knelt and was con- firmed, and admitted to the full communion of the Church Militant on earth. Ou another occasion in the Straits, wlien the Bishop was enumerating these seven duties, and requiring the assent and pledge of the catechumens to observe them, a voice was heard from the midst refusing compliance. An aged man had been confirmed, of an eccentric character. " No," he said, " he would observe what the rubric required, but would pledge himself to nothing more." No difficulty, of course, was made; and with the surprise the matter passed away. It was not the time or place to dwell upon " all those things which your godfathers and godmothers then undertook for you." Native Baptisms. — It will easily be imagined that the Bishop felt the deepest interest in the progress of missions and the conversion of the natives; so that whenever intimation was VOL. I. Z 338 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. xit. made to him that any of the missionaries had candidates deemed qualified for Holy Baptism, he was always ready to give the sanction of his presence. The first native he himself baptised was named Kali Coomar Ghose. He had *l3een first a slave to sin and Satan, then a free-thinking Hindoo believing nothing, then an enquirer after truth, then a close student of the Evidences of Christianity, then a regular attendant upon the services at the Old Church, Calcutta, and finally a true convert to the faith of Jesus Christ. On Whitsunday in the year 1833, he was baptised by the Bishop, in the face of the congregation. Another case, attended for a time with a different result, occurred a short time after. A young native named Brijonauth Ghose, had been educated first in the Hindoo College, and next in the Church Missionary premises at Mirzapore. He was an intelligent lad, about fifteen years of age. His enquiry into the truth of Christianity was perfectly spontaneous, and led to a full conviction of its truth, and a desire for baptism. His parents and friends had property and influence, and being rigid Hindoos, they left no stone unturned to thwart his purpose, and avert the consummation which they dreaded. The boy communicated with the well-known Krishna Mohun Baneijea who was his friend, and on the plea that his life was endangered, was aided to escape. He fled, and was sheltered for a time in the Church Missionary premises. Every movement, however, was watched ; he was waylaid and seized ; a struggle ensued ; and all the parties were taken before the magistrate, who dismissed the case, and freed the lad. He now earnestly sought for baptism ; but the Bishop on being applied to, wished that no shadow of suspicion should remain upon him, and recommended a short delay. The father applied in the interim to the Supreme Court: and the judges directed his son to be restored. In full court the father advanced and laid hands upon him. The lad cried bitterly, appealed to the judges, clung to the barristers' table, and was dragged away by force, amidst the shouts of the heathen, and the tears and remonstrances of Christians. The court sat silent, without a word of sympathy for the son, or caution to the father: and the case when reported, raised grave doubts about the propriety, if ft 1832—34.] * INDIA. 339 not legalit}^, of the decision which had been pronounced. The Bishop thus records the circumstance, — " A case has occurred in the Supreme Court which occasions me lively grief. A young native convert was given back by the judges to his Hindoo father, on the ground of his having been unlawfully drawn awa}^, and being not of age." And again on Aug. 14th, 1833. " The case of the boy Brijonauth weighs much upon my mind. A free agent I really believe that boy w^as : and the law of deliverance has been to him, and still is, an imprisonment. More of this when we meet." It is pleasant to know^ that after an interval of three years, that is, in July 1836, this convert, and three others of his own age and standing, were baptised in the Old Church, Calcutta. His principles had never faltered, but the treatment he had received had injured his health, and his powers of body and mind never realised their early promise. Twelve candidates were soon after presented by the Rev. J. Sandj^s, the excellent Church missionary at Mirzapore. The principal convert, a man of some consideration and mature age, was brought to the Bishop for examination, and it was an interesting sight to see him sitting at the feet of his spiritual father, fixing upon him the earnest gaze of his dark glancing eyes, and answering with seriousness and composure the questions put to him through the missionary : — " He w^as about thirty years old. He had been a long while thinking about Christianity, because he wanted to get salvation. He knew that Jesus Christ had died, and done everything to get salvation for him. He thought himself a great sinner ; and was sure that unless he believed in Jesus Christ and belonged to Him, he must perish for ever. Hell was the place where God's wrath was endured. Heaven was a very beautiful, divine, happy place. By becoming a Christian he wished to testify his faith in Jesus Christ. By believing in Christ, he hoped he should obtain the Holy Spirit, and thus be enabled to serve and please God. He considered baptism to be an open profession of his faith in Christ, and by it he hoped to obtain grace from God. He wished to become a true Christian z 2 840 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. xir. with all his heart. He placed all his dependence upon the merits of Jesus Christ. He wished to obey every command of God. It was very difficult to oppose his evil inchnations and resist temptation : but he would do it by the help of God. He would give up caste, and everything forbidden in the second commandment. All idolatry he forsook from the bottom of his heart. He would do all he could to win over his relations and friends. Knowing that Christianity required diligence and honesty, chastity and purity, he would endeavour to be honest and industrious, and if he married, would marry a Christian wife." Such was his confession. The Bishop blessed him, and bade him God-speed ; and he, with the other candidates, was baptised in the Church Missionary Chapel. A visit to the missions of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel followed. These were chiefly in the lowlands to the south of Calcutta, and were then under the charge of the Rev. D. Jones, and his catechist, Mr. Driberg. The whole country was one huge paddy-field, intersected by numberless streams ; and upon each spot of rising ground stood a little village. The only approach was by water. Flat-bottomed boats, hollowed from a single tree, and covered Avith a slight awning, conveyed the Bishop and his chaplain, with the authorities of Bishop's College, and the missionaries, to Jangera, the chief station, where a church had been erected. The whole scene was of the most primitive character, and as the boats were pushed along the winding nullahs or streams, now signs of Christianity, and now of heathenism, cheered or depressed the mind. The little bell of Jangera Church at length struck upon the ear calling the Christians to assemble : whilst the beating of the tom-tom in an adjacent temple sounded in harsh contrast, and seemed to breathe defiance. The party alighted and stood before the little cliurch. The pillars were the unwrought trunks of the palm-tree; the walls were of matting; a verandah ran all round. In this, large numbers of the heathen stood, whilst a congrega- tion of one hundred and fifty native Christians were assembled within. The candidates for baptism sat apart during divine 1832-34.] INDIA. 341 service, -which, Avith the singing also, was in Bengalee : and when it was concluded they were brought forward for examination. The Bishop asked through a missionary, and they replied, as follows : — * Who made you ? ' God. * Who will judge you at the last day ? ' Jesus Christ. ' When ? ' After this life is ended. * What becomes of souls after death ?' They go to God who gave them. * Will all souls be happy after death ? ' Not all. * Who will be happy?' Those who believe in Christ — they will be happy. * AVhat of the rest ? ' They will suffer in hell. The Bishop then directed that these things should be told over again to those that were "without:" that they were all true : and formed the first part of what he had to ask. He then resumed the examination, and questioned tlie candidates, upon idolatry, upon their state as sinners, upon the way of pardon through Jesus Christ, upon the Holy Spirit, and upon the commandments. Everything having been answered satisfactorily, they were brought to the font — seven in number — and the Bishop baptised them, repeating the words in Bengalee and afterwards in English. The names given were Luc}^ Mary, Dorcas, John, Peter, James and Philip. AVhilst the ceremony was being performed all the congregation flocked around, and the heathen pressed into the church, several Brahmins being manifested by their " thread." When quiet was restored, the Bishop at once addressed them all from the words of Christ, I am the light of the w^orld :" each sentence being translated and repeated by the missionar3^ All listened with the most intense interest : and ever and anon a low murmur was heard of " good, good," true, true," " yes, yes." All were then dismissed, and the little missionary excursion ended. These, however, were but the first fruits. Far greater 312 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [CIIAP. XII. results followed. During these two years of the Bishop's residence in Calcutta he witnessed the baptism of one hundred and seventy-eight natives : and this number was afterwards largely increased. Peoselytism. — It may easily be imagined that as the number of converts increased in the missions, a spirit of proselytism would arise and prove troublesome, especially in places like Calcutta and the neighbourhood, where different religious bodies were mingled together and came into daily contact. Each missionary would naturally seek an increase to his own flock. Converts would be prone to wander from fold to fold. Church questions would arise. Discipline would excite discontent. A native disgraced in one place would seek refuge in another. The whole truth would not be told. The missionary would be deceived. Practical difficulties would arise concerning the baptising and re -baptising. Misunder- standings would lead to accusations, and accusations to recrimination. As might be imagined, all these things came to pass. The missionaries of both the Church Societies complained of interference ; and were accused both privately and publicly of interfering themselves. Cases again and again came before the Bishop on his first arrival in India, and gave him great concern. It was difficult to act, because his authority was limited to his own clergy ; but he did the best he could to promote peace and check the evil : and when it continued to increase, he put forth a public document upon the subject. This was in the month of September, 1841. In this document he stated his difficulties, and suggested certain remedies. The difficulties need not be inserted here ; but it may be important to give a degree of permanency to the remedies. They were arranged under seven heads, and are as follows : — ' On the whole, the Bishop recommends to the reverend missionaries of our Church the following simple rules : — ' 1. That they should continue to abstain, as they have always done, from encouraging anything like proselyting of native Christians from other Protestant bodies, as wrong in itself, sure to encourage hypocrisy and create disturbances, 1832—31] INDIA. 3i3 and with no probable benefit. In fact, the missionaries of our Church have no right to interfere with the missions of other protestant christian bodies, peaceably established in other places in their vicinity; any more—and, indeed, much less — than an incumbent of a parish at home would have a right to go into another parish, in order to " banish and drive away " what he might consider " erroneous and strange doctrines ; " instead of confining himself in that, and all other respects, to his appointed and authorised province of duty. '2. That in the case of native Christians voluntarily and determinately applying to be received into our communion, the missionaries should continue to keep them for so long a time under probation as may suffice for ascertaining their character and motives; and should make a communication to their former minister or teacher concerning them before they are finally admitted. ' 3. That such converts, if ultimately approved and admitted into our Church, should not be put into employment with salaries, at least for many years. ' 4. That if any of these converts, however, should, in any exemj)t cases, be employed, they should be removed, if possible, into some convenient spot in our own missions ; and not be allowed to hold their employments whilst remaining in the villages of the missions they have left. * 5. That conditional baptism should only be administered where the missionary has reasonable grounds for doubting whether the essential parts of the sacrament have been performed. ' 6. That in the application of these several rules, the missionaries should act with great prudence and discretion; and if anything likely to disturb the peace of a mission should threaten, they should consult the Bishop before any step is taken. ' 7. The Bishop, lastly, would recommend, as all his Eight Reverend predecessors have done, that a spirit of heart-felt charity and peace should govern all our measures in the prosecution of our evangelical labours in this vast heathen country, where there is ample scope for ten times the number 314 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. of missionaries now in tlie fields of service, without interfering in the least the one with the other.' Infant Schools. — Soon after his arrival, the Bishop resolved on the introduction of infant schools into India, thinking them admirably adapted for the development of the native mind and character. The attempt had been made once before, but on a small scale, and with very imperfect instrumentality. It was now determined to enlist public feeling, and to give the experi- ment a full and fair trial. About fifty influential gentlemen were accordingly assembled in the Bishop's palace in the month of June, when they resolved to form a "Calcutta Infant School Society." An active committee was nominated. The Governor- General consented to become patron. The Bishop was appointed president. The judges, members of council, archdeacon, and princii^al of Bishop's College were vice-presidents ; and the Bishop's chaplain, secretary. A subscrii^tion was immediately commenced, and soon reached five thousand rupees ; and the Bishop was authorised to send for a competent master and mistress from England. Pending their arrival, funds were to accumulate, and premises be looked for ; but no other steps taken. The Bishop threw himself into the scheme with his accus- tomed energy, and wrote at once to the Bev. William Wilson, Vicar of Walthamstow, his brother-in-law, and one of the earliest patrons of infant scliools, as follows : — * June 18, 1833. * India is opened to the Infant system. The most magnifi- cent empire ever attached to a European sceptre, has become a field for the operations of the moral steam engine of infant schools. This morning I have held our meeting. * We look to you and my brother Joseph for the master and mistress — to be chosen with extraordinary care from the best schools ; mild, gentle, with a genius for infant teaching ; well experienced already ; tempers tried, and known not to fail ; good sense, humility, sound heart-felt piety, mild adherence to the Church of England — in a word, missionaries. For we have no worldly offers to make. We want missionaries, for 1832—34.] INDIA. 345 teaching native teachers, and propagating the system through- out India. * The precocity of the native mind, the depth of idolatry and vice in which it is sunk, the early hahits of lying, cheating, stealing, which are universal, make India the peculiar scene where the marvels of infant instruction may hest be displayed. All agree that no country upon earth needs it so much, and that none will welcome it (God helping us) so eagerly as this noble but prostrate land, where Satan revels in his lusts and cruelties, his darkness and his degradation. Never was such a prospect presented of good ; for the character of childhood in England is nothing compared to the gaiety, love of noise, quickness, docility, imitative faculties of the natives of this beautiful country. { * But I have done. We give you almost carte blanche as to particulars.' The idea was, that a commencement should be made with the nominally Christian children of the Portuguese, and the East Indians, and then the result exhibited to the natives. If they approved, branch schools might be scattered over Calcutta under masters trained at the central school. Thus, in process of time, and by the aid of Government, the system might, it was hoped, penetrate the length and breadth of India. At first, everything fell out as was anticipated. In the year 1834, an admirable master and mistress came out from England, and the first school was opened. Children flocked to it. It answered perfectly ; and the time soon came for the exhibition of the system to the native gentry, as applicable to their own children. A public examination was accordingly announced in the Town Hall, in June, 1885. The Bishop presided, and many influential natives were present. All were delighted with what they saw, and it was at once resolved to open a second school for native children, in connection^ but not fused with the first, under the management of the same master and mistress. A temporary building was erected, and this second school was commenced in 1836. The success was so rapid and complete, that in four months the children, of ages varying 346 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. from two to seven, were ready for examination. It w^as' held, as before, in the Town Hall, and a large audience assembled. No sight could be more interesting. One hundred native infants, clad in the splendid dresses of the East, and decked w'itli the ornaments of the Karem, crowded the platform, and went through all the exercises usually displayed at home. They spoke English fluently, they sang hj^mns, marched, clapped hands, examined one another, showed wonderful intel- ligence, and elicited universal admiratian. No infant school in England could have surpassed these little bright- eyed, dark- skinned Indians. The experiment completely answered. The European gentry were charmed, and the feeling amongst the natives generally may be judged of by an extract from a Bengalee newspaper published at the time. Thus spake the editor of the Gyananesliun : — " On Thursday morning a meeting of the Infant School Society was held in the Town Hall. The -Lord Bishop, Sir Edward Ryan, Sir Benjamin Malkin, Sir J. Grant, Lady Ryan, and numerous other friends of education, of both sexes, were i)resent. After the business of the Society had been transacted, the boys of the native Infant School were ushered in. They were about a hundred in number. The postures they put tliemselves into, at the command of their master, were pretty and amusing. They sang several English songs, and kept clapping the time in good order. They astonished the audience by the expertness with which they answered questions put to them in numeration, addition, the tables of currency in this country, &c. All this was done, in English, by the Hindoo children. The audience seemed to be much gratified at their progress. The Lord Bishop took particular notice of the correctness of their pronunciation, which he highly eulogised." It was proved therefore beyond all controversy, that the system was adapted to the natives, and likely to be popular with them. But to extend it over India was manifestly beyond the power of a small voluntary society. The expenses already incurred had been very great, and could not be continued. 1S32— 3i.] INDIA. . 347 Application therefore was made to the " Education Com- mittee " of the Government. What had been akeady done was laid before them, and they were requested to adopt and foster a system so full of promise. The Education Committee received the memorial thus submitted to them : — acknowdedged, approved, and forgot it. Nothing was done for three years. Meanwhile the native school continued in operation in Calcutta. There was no falling off. The Bishop records the fact as follows : — ' January 22, 1839. * We had an Infant School anniversary this morning — a greater crowd than ever ! There were four or five hundred natives to witness one of the most perfect exhibitions ever made. The impression on the audience was enthusiastic. One hundred infants were present. Mr. Pratt (who had very recently arrived) says, the children pronounce English better, and reply more intelligently, than a like school in England would. We are struggling for funds. But I hope we shall get on.' At the close of this year, 1889, an infant school was formed, and connected with the Government College at Hooghly. "This step/' says the Bishop, "revives the hope of India being ere long filled with this fine moral machinery." This hope, however, was not reaHsed. The English master, on whom so much depended, was called to a higher of&ce, and eventually employed in missionary w^ork : w^hilst his trained successor, Mr. Gomez, removed to Hooghly. As an almost necessary consequence, the Calcutta school dwindled away. No encouragement was given by the Government, and no grant made. Funds failed. The Bishop was often absent on visitation, and there was no one to supply his place. Early friends also retired, or died. And thus the spark which had been lit with so much care, and which seemed about to kindle into so bright a flame, vv'ent out. Experience, however, has been gained. The system has been tried, and the successful result recorded. The next age may derive tlie benefit. If ever Government desire to raise all 348 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. India one step, Avitliout friction : if they would wean her from idolatry, without tlie charge of joroselytism : if they would teach English, without trouble : if they would introduce a system of education, without rousing party spirit : — they have but to adopt and to apply the Infant School system. The second step would doubtless in due time follow ; but this might be the first. Steam Communication. — The contrast presented by the rapid and regular communication now established between England and India, and that which existed in 1832 — 1834, is very striking. Then, a delay of one hundred and fifty days in the delivery of letters was quite common, and it often extended to one hundred and seventy, eighty, or ninety days. This caused no uneasiness to those whose traditionary policy would have kept India and England far apart, or Avhose home affections had been weakened by long absence. But it was very unfavourable to the development of India's resources, very injurious to such mercantile operations as required quick returns, and very painful to those whose family ties and home affections were still strong. Amongst these last the Bishop must be classed. Few men felt the separation from home and friends, and the lengthened period required for corres- pondence, more than he did. It became the constant topic of his conversation, and the burden of every letter. He even fretted under it, though he knew better; for in his 3iotes, the following entry appears : — 'Three points of abstinence would promote calmness of mind in India : (1) never to look at a thermometer ; (2) never to talk about the arrival or non -arrival of ships ; (3) never to reckon up minutely the weeks and months of residence.' Good rules these ; but never so badly kept as in his case ; for never was a letter written without the height of the thermometer being registered — never did a ship arrive without her length of voyage being noted — and on almost every page of this very note-book, the year, month, and day of his lengthen- ing residence is recorded. it 18.32—34 ] INDIA. 849 To shorten tlien the long intervals of correspondence, and thus virtually lessen the distance between England and India by the introduction of steam communication, soon became a favourite subject with him ; — and that, not from personal motives only, but from a deep conviction that nothing would tend more to the advancement of India, and the prosperity of the Church. There were many hke -minded ; and they hailed a coadjutor so enthusiastic and influential. The matter had been agitated for some time, and the feasibleness of the project loudly asserted ; but no permanent steps had been taken, and nothing practically done to prove tliat India was indeed in earnest. This was what was wanted, and this was what the Bishop did. He had signed with many others, a requisition to the chief magistrate of Calcutta, which resulted in a public meeting, on June 14th, 1833 ; but he was not present. It was presided over by Sir Edward Eyan, the Chief Justice of Bengal, and though resolutions were jjassed favourable to the scheme, yet no subscription was proposed, and no really practical result followed. Those were troublous times in Calcutta. All the great agency houses were failing one after the other, ruining many and dashiDg to the ground the hopes of many more. Confidence was shaken, and any attempt to raise funds being deemed hopeless, the meeting liad contented itself with memorialising the Government. The Bishop was greatly disappointed at this lame conclu- sion ; and the next morning whilst riding round the course, and expressing his regret. Lord William joined him, and •expressed (though, as Governor- General, with some reserve) similar sentiments. Mr. Trevelyan (now Sir Charles,) at this moment came riding by, and being stopped, joined in the conversation ; and, turning to the Bishop, said, " I wish, my Lord — I cannot say how earnestly — that j^ou would come forward, and do something to du'ect the stream into the right channel again." Lord Y/illiam silently signified assent. The Bishop hesitated for a moment ; but tlien rode home, and wrote the following letter to the Chief ^lagistrate. 350 THE LFIE OF DANIEL [QHAV. XII. TO DAVID MACFARLANE, ESQ. 'June 15, 1833. * When I signed the requisition at your house for the meeting which assembled yesterday on the subject of Steam Navigation, I devoted in my own mind a certain sum in aid of so great a project; the greatest of its kind ever presented, as I conceive, to a society separated fourteen thousand miles from their native shores, and which promised, by the application of one of the noblest inventions of modern science, to diminish nearly one-half the time now consumed in the intercourse between Great Britain and India. ' I presume not to interfere with the resolution of the meeting, which discourages any general subscriptions at the present moment. I admire the delicacy of feeling from which that resolution proceeded. I should even yield an implicit obedience to the resolution itself, if I thought that the professedly volun- tary contributions of individuals would lead to the expectation of large and burdensome efforts, to which the public depression of affairs in this Presidenc}^ would be unequal. But I have no such apprehensions. I send you, therefore, my name and those of my family, and of the friends who happen to be my guests. I cannot but feel for myself that subscriptions, how- ever small and inadequate to the full accomplishment of our design, will yet stamp a greater sincerity upon our signatures to the petitions, and may possibly concur in inducing the Government, both here and at home, to take up the project, when we are found incapable of pushing it farther, and to- incorporate it with the national institutions.' This letter, when made public, produced an instantaneous revulsion of feeling, and roused all India. The arguments prevailed ; the example set was followed ; and in one week thirty-three thousand rupees were subscribed by one hundred and seventy European and native gentry. A public meeting was then held in the Town Hall, over which the Bishop was called to preside. In his opening address, energy and decision were tempered by prudence and common sense. He confessed himself an enthusiast in the 1832—34.] INDIA. 351 cause, and said that, if a man of that description was not wanted, he would leave the chair ; but he was old enough, he added, to know that it was essential to go to work in an orderly way, and to check too much warmth of feeling, for the difficulties to be encountered were as great as the end was glorious. His remarks were received with unbounded applause ; and when the meeting proceeded to business, all was regularity and harmon3^ An efficient committee was nominated, funds from all parts of India and from all sorts and conditions of men, continued to flow in, and in a short time the subscribers numbered two thousand five hundred and forty, and the sub- scriptions amounted to one hundred and sixty- seven thousand rupees. Such success sometimes attends the timely and energetic action of one man ! Keferring to this meeting, the Bishop says : — ' On Saturday last, the meeting of the subscribers to the Steam Navigation met at the Town Hall, when, being called to the chair, I was able to preserve order, and aid in forming a most efficient committee. I hope I am not wrong as Bishop, in thus taking the lead in a scheme of benevolence and charity of so immense an extent, and the bearing of which on religion will be so considerable ; but I am aware great caution is required. I look on it as an imitation of those benevolent acts which our Lord mingled with his doctrine, as a som'ce of legitimate influence upon his audiences, and as preparatory to his divine instructions.' It is not necessary here to trace in detail the steps which followed this meeting, and led, after years of struggle and fre- quent disappointments, to the desired result. There were many helpers — men of energy, skill, patience, prudence, judgment ; and many hinderers — men of theory, fancy, temper, impulse, indecision. All had to be kept in harmony and working order ; and this fell mainly to the Bishop. He watched over every- thing, he kept the peace, he furnished the breakfasts, he com- municated with the Government, he corresponded incessantly 352 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. with Lord Clare at Bombaj^ and Sir Frederic Adam at Madras, he wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury and every influential leader of the Church at home, and no less than thirteen long letters on this subject alone were addressed to Charles Grant, the President of the Board of Control. An extract from one of these must be here inserted, or it will be impossible to understand how much his heart was interested and his tongue unloosed : — 'July 22, 1833. ' To have a certain post starting on a given day, arriving at a given da}^ returning at a given day, and that day one half earlier than the average arrivals now, would be as life from the dead ! Positively it would make India almost a suburb of London ; it would draw the whole human family together. Extending my reflections to the arts, sciences, commerce, legislation, international policy, humanity, religion, it seems to me to open a new world, and to throve up a highway across the mighty deep for man to pass to man. It may be considered further that inventions in the arts have been subservient to the purposes of Providence in every age. What an invention the mariner's compass ! What an invention the art of printing ! By these two discoveries the world became accessible to knowledge and improvement. The Reformation sprang from their bosom. ' And is steam a less wonderful discovery ? I should con- ceive that when this invention is fully developed and applied to the art of navigation, its effects will be more beneficial than any preceding discovery. Your knowledge, my dear friend, as a statesman, a political economist, a philanthropist, a legis- lator, will supply, though no imagination can fully reach, the amplitude and accumulation of benefits wdiich would pour in, if this opening once were made. * The time for beginning this scheme is now favourable, because subscriptions have begun at the three Presidencies which amount already to one hundred and twenty thousand rupees, and which will increase to almost any sum if encou- raged by a prospect of the aid of Government. By all these efi'orts how^ever of a private nature, nothing permanent can be efl'ected. The diiOficulties and pecuniary sufl'erings here, from 1S32— Si.] I^DIA. 353 the failure of all the great agenc}^ houses, have impoverished every one. If we raise two lacs (20,000Z.) it is probably the outside of what we shall effect; and what is this for the purchase of steam vessels, for the working of them, and the permanent establishment of the design ? IMany here accord- ingly, smitten with despair, proposed merely to petition govern- ment, and not to attempt a private subscription. Lord William disapproved of this heartless conduct. I came forward for the interests of humanit}^, put down my subscription, and led the way to the efforts which have been made here. If we can obtain one vessel to go between Bombay and Suez, and maintain her for one year, it is as much, and indeed more than om- means are likely to compass. But this will be the starting of the plan. Four voyages in a year, known beforehand, so that friends may write by them, would give a taste of the communication. ' AVhat we want you to do, my dear friend, is to obtain from the Admiralty the extension of the Mediterranean steam post from Malta, to Alexandria during our first year : and then afterwards to estabhsh the vessels from Bombay to Suez, four, six, or eight times a year, as you may judge best. ' Noio is the time for actio?!. The impulse given to all improvements in agriculture, in commerce, in knowledge of the arts, in freedom, by the admirable government of Lord WilHam Bentinck, requires as a correspondent means of pro- gress, the Steam CoMMrxiCATiox. The name of that states- man will be immortalised of whom future ages shall say — " He first seized the prodigious idea of allying England and India. He saw through the miserable objections of a parsi- monious selfishness. He ventured everything to give India the means of rapid and certain communication with the sources of literatui'e, humanity and religion in Europe. He annihilated distance. He made England the metropolis of the world." ' It is impossible to say what effect such appeals, constantly reiterated, may have produced upon the mind of the Minister for India. It suffices to know that he introduced the whole question of steam communication into the House of Commons on June 3rd, 1884, in an admirable speech, and that the committee VOL. I. A A 354 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. appointed under his auspices to consider the question, passed a capital series of resolutions for carrjing out the project. This delighted the Bishop, and it was an addition to his gratificaton to find that many of the topics he had suggested were handled in Charles Grant's masterly way, and many of the expressions he had made use of, quoted. When in October 1835, he was on board the Hattrass Pilot vessel, bound for Bombay, the Forbes steamer which had been lent by the Government to the Steam Committee, passed him at the Sandheads on her first experimental voyage. As she steamed by, rolling heavily with the burden, of her coals, she saluted the Bishop, and received his hearty greetings and earnest good wishes. Those good wishes were scarcely realised on this occasion ; but she proved indeed the precursor of those splen- did Oriental steamers which now bridge the way between England and India, softening the necessary pains of absence, and ensuring, if needs be, earnest sympathy and powerful succour. In accomplishing these great results the Bishop did his part. His touch went far to remove the vis-inertise which then prevailed, and to set all this noble machinery at work. The Begum Sumeoo's Fund. — On Nov. 15th, 1833, when the Bishop opened his letters he found one, containing enclosiu-es which seemed to give him the greatest joy. He waved two long thin strips of paper above his head, and challenged enquiry as to their signification. They proved to be bank bills ; one for a lac of rupees, and the other for half a lac sent down from the Begum Sumroo as a gift for the Church and the poor. The Begum Sumroo held an independent jaghire, near Meerut, in the Upper Provinces. Celebrated aUke for beauty and talents, she had risen from a simple nautch girl, to be a native princess. In early life her character had been bad, in maturity it was tinged with harshness and cruelty, in extreme age it was benevolent and quiet, though capricious. She was a Boman Catholic. Her revenue exceeded 120,000?. per annum, half of which she saved. Her court and palace were at Sirdhana ; she maintained three thousand troops, kept an 1832— 3^.] INDIA. 355 establishment of seven hundred female attendants, frequented the Roman Catholic church every Sunday, wore a turban, smoked a hookah, was small of stature, fond of show, imperious in manner, and ranked amongst the notabilities of India. At her death, which took place in 183G, when she was eighty-seven years of age, her estates lapsed to the East India Company; but her immense savings were bequeathed to Mr. Dyce Sombre, the son of her adoption, who was afterwards too well known in England. Her motive in making the Bishop the almoner of her charity did not very clearly appear. She had intimated her intention soon after his arrival, and some correspondence foUowed on the subject through the medium of a Colonel Dyce. The Bishop's opinion on the subject having been asked, he wrote to her as follows : — ' Calcutta, Aug. 7, 1833. ' To Her Highness the Begum Sumroo, the Lord Bishop of Calcutta ivishes all peace and benediction. ' May it please your Highness, ' I have received from Colonel Dyce the information that your Highness intended to bestow the noble gift of one hundred thousand rupees on the Protestant Church in Calcutta, and fifty thousand rupees on the poor — especially deserving debtors. Colonel Dyce was good enough to say that as soon as your Highness could be assured that your intentions would be faithfully fulfilled, and proper deeds sent down to you, you would order the money to be paid. ' First, permit me to applaud and admire the benevolent and Christian intention of your Highness, and thank you from the bottom of my heart, and in the name of Christ, my Lord. ' Next, permit me to assure your Highness in the most solemn manner, that the Venerable Archdeacon Corrie and myself, and our successors in our sacred office, will labour to our utmost, to fulfil your designs in doing good to the Church and to the poor. *In the next place, I beg to inform jou that I have been consulting with my lawyer in what manner the deeds could best be drawn, and the particular terms selected, so as to 356 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON*. [chap. XII. prevent the money being wasted hereafter in litigation and dispute. After much consultation I conceive your Highness's intention of benefiting the Church under my governance in India, would be best promoted if I employed the interest of the one hundred thousand rupees, for providing fit persons to be set apart as ministers and teachers, and to be maintained and supported in their pious labours of reading prayers to the people, explaining the Gospel, teaching children, visiting and comforting the sick and d3ing, and being the friends and advisers of those in affliction. * If your Highness should approve of this, it is recommended to be inserted in the deeds, so that no doubt hereafter may arise from general terms being used. * With regard to the fifty thousand rupees for the poor and the debtors, it is thought that those words are specific and definite in themselves. *I am sorr};- to give you the trouble of reading this long letter, but my reverence for your charitable designs, and my desire to do everything that is agreeable to you in fulfilling them, lead me to do so. * May the blessing of Almighty God rest upon your Highness in return for your kindness to His Church and to His poor ! May you have all the grace and consolations of that religion of Christ which you assist me in diffusing. May you long have health and exery comfort upon earth, and then receive the crown of glory which fadeth not away ! ' The Begum was very old — the business lingered — there were many fears in the way. Hence the Bishop's joy at the safe arrival of the money ; a joy which no mere personal advantage ' could have roused. In due time it was invested so as to yield an income of 380L to the Church, and 190L to the poor. This gift was followed by a second from the same source for His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury. It amounted to fifty thousand rupees, and was transmitted to England through the Bishop. His Grace directed the money to be invested, and the annual proceeds to be applied to Indian objects through the instrumentality of the u . y for the Propagation of the Gospel. 1832—34.] INDIA. 357 Tpie New Charter. — In tlie month of October, 1833, intelligence reached India of the introduction into Parliament of the Bill for the renewal of the East India Company's charter. " After hearing and reading twice over every word of your speech," says the Bishop in a letter to Mr. Charles Grant, dated Oct. 8th, "I hurried down to Government House to enjoy the treat of a thorough chat with Lord William Bentinck. He was good enough to go over with me all the heads of your speech, point by point. His lordship most highly approves of it, and thinks a platform of future improvement is laid, of which succeeding generations will avail themselves. Both he and Sir Charles Metcalfe speak with less certainty about the framework of the East India Company being retained than of the rest." This Bill empowered His Majesty to divide the diocese, to erect Calcutta into a metropolitical see, and to appoint two suffragan bishops for Madras and Bombay. As it respected his own individual share in this measure, the following remarks appear in his private notes : — ' I have conversed with the Governor- General, and assured him how anxiously I should endeavour to discharge the awful duties to be imposed upon me. He was pleased to say that it was a great blessing to India that I had such powers assigned me. Oh, that it may so prove ! I would desire to feel over- whelmed with the divine goodness, mercy, and grace ; with the responsibilities which may fall upon me ; with the perfect conviction of my feebleness, unfitness, and impotency ; with a recollection of the uncertainty of life and health ; with a sense of the difficulty of uniting many minds and judgments in common measures of good ; and yet with faith in that " excel- lency of the power " of God, which can work his wondrous purposes by instruments the most feeble.' But on the general measure itself his tone was very different. This may be gathered from a very interesting and important letter to an old friend : — 358 TilE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOK. [chap. XII, ' October 22, 1833. * How can I tell you my joy at the prospect of the Suffragan Bishops ! How I laboured that plan before I left England in June, 1832! The President, the Chairman, the Archbishop, the Bishop of London, the Secretary of the Board, all were assailed and urged by me in turns. The two Mr. Grants at first thought the whole plan impracticable, but ended (after three months incessant drives, and comparisons of plans, and references, and delays) in the arrangement of a Bill, drawn by Mr. Groom, the solicitor of the Board. Well do I remember Mr. Simeon saying, that if I had been made Bishop of Calcutta merely to carry that measure, and was never to reach India, I should have done a great work. My disappointment, of course, was the more keen when Dr. Dealtry sent me word last August that it had been found impracticable to bring in the Bill that session; for on the Saturday, June 16th, when I dined at Mr. C. Grant's, the first thing Earl Grey had said upon my being introduced to him was, that he highly approved of the measure as circulated by Mr. Grant, and thought it very reasonable. I then went up to the Bishop of London, and with joy brought him to the Prime Minister, when he confirmed what he before had said. This took me to Mr. Grant and to the Chairman, to express my gratitude and delight. I con- ceived, in fact, that the thing was carried, and so it tvas ; for now it is inserted in the Charter speech, not as a matter of debate, but as previously arranged ; and probably the very Bill drawn and ready in June, 1832, will be passed now. And how greatly is my joy and gratitude to Providence enhanced by the very delay and disappointment! Mr. Grant's speech came upon me as a thunder- stroke. I wrote off instantly a long letter under the first impulse of joy. I have now heard from Dr. Dealtry (June 23), to know my wishes as to the men. I have proposed Archdeacon Corrie for Madras, Archdeacon Eobinson for Bombay, and Archdeacon Carr, now of Bombay, to be, by my appointment. Archdeacon of Calcutta instead of Corrie. * I am advising Corrie to proceed to England instanter for consecration, and I propose to meet him on his return, at Madras, and consecrate (if we are permitted) Eobinson. 1832— 3J.] INDIA. 359 ' My soul swells with thanksgivings and praise to God for this vast mercy, not as it respects my episcopate, but the permanent good of India. But I fear even to write to you of these feelings, lest I should grieve the Holy Comforter ; for Satan's grand assault upon my mind since March 27th, 1832, is elation, jo}^, natural spirits, eager pursuit of a great object, a soul panting to stretch itself to the length and breadth of my vast diocese.' The Bill passed Parliament August 21st, 1833, and reached India at the close of the year. Considerable delay occurred in carrying out its provisions, for the expenditure sanctioned for the whole ecclesiastical establishment w^as limited, and the archdeaconry of Bombay being filled up, as we have seen, the funds did not at once admit of the appointment of both Bishops. Eventually however all came round. Ai'chdeacon Corrie, one of those men whose praise is in aU the churches, and whom the Bishop deemed for meekness and gentleness of spirit more like his Divine Master than an}^ one he had ever known, was recalled from the visitation on which, with proper allowances, now for the first time obtained, he had been engaged, and sent to England. He returned in 1835, Bishop of Madras. The Archdeacon of Madras retired on his pension. Archdeacon Carr was summoned home in 1837, and returned Bishop of Bombay. All the dioceses were then filled, and the new machinery began to work. It formed a precedent of vast importance for a spreading Church ; and has been followed both in Australia and in Africa. They also have now their metropolitans and suffragans ; and if ever in the providence of God these great dependencies are separated from the parent stock, their Church will still retam within itself the power of reproduction and indefinite expansion — still be enabled to put forth great branches, and bear fruit for the healing of the nations. Church Building Fund fok India. — The origin of this fund was singular, and serves to show that the day of small things should never be despised. In March 1820, a periodical entitled Missionary Intelligence 360 THE LIFE OF DAXIEL WILSOX. [chap. XII. was commenced in Calcutta, for the purpose expressed in its title. In June 1859, the plan was enlarged: and now it was called The Christian Intelligencer. Daniel Corrie was the editor, and continued to be so for many years. When in July 1833, he left Calcutta on his visitation of the Upper Pro- vinces as Ai'chdeacon, he transferred the sole charge of this periodical to the Bishop's chaplain — the author of the present work : and it was carried on by him till September in the folio win g[ vear. During this period, it was emiched by many contributions fi'om the Bishop. Interesting extracts from his English letters were readily furnished, and ecclesiastical information fi'om all pai'ts of India was of coui'se available. As death struck down one and another who had been his valued friends at home, the Bishop took pleasiu'e in recalling their excel- lencies, and recording his recollections of them, and these were inserted in The Christian Intelligencer. Thus in Januaiy 1834, appeared " Eecollections of William "Wilberforce ; " in March 1834, ''Recollections of Hannah More;" in May 1835, " Recol- lections of the Rev. John Scott of Hull;" in August 1836, " Recollections of Dr. Ryder, Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry ; " in September 1836, " Recollections of the Rev. Isaac Crouch ; " in June 1837, " Recollections of the Rev. Charles Simeon." All these were very graphic and interesting papers, and have most of them been referred to in the memoii'S of those eminent persons. These details have a bearing upon the subject : for early in the year 1834, amongst other anonymous letters addressed to the editor of The Christian Intelligencer, appeared one signed " Delta," (who it subsequently appeared was ^Ir. AVale Byrn, a young East Indian of piety and respectability) lamenting the want of chm-ches in India, and suggestuig a remedy. That remedy was very simple. It involved (1.) A Fmid for the erection of churches voluntaiily throughout all India. (2.) A monthly subscription of neither more nor less than one rupee. (3.) This subscription to be collected by the chaplain at each station, or by friends under his guidance. (4.) The manage- ment of the whole to be vested in the Bishop, Archdeacon, and Presidency Chaplains. The statistics of the letter were wrong, 1832—31.] INDIA. 361 but that did not affect tlie principle. The idea was new in India, and might be successful ; but there were grave doubts on the other side. A momentary hesitation followed : — should the letter appear, or should it be dropped into the receptacle for rejected addresses ? The balance hung even for a time, and then inclined to the favourable side. The attempt should be made, and if made, earnestly. The matter was accordingly submitted to the Bishop ; and the plan, meeting with his approbation, was inserted in the Intelligencer, with a strong recommendation, and a small list of names obtained at the Palace, and representing every class in India. At the head of the list appeared the anonymous proposer ; then followed the nameless editor, then the Bishop, the Archdeacon, the married and the single lady, the civil, military, medical, and uncovenanted servant : — each gave his name and one rupee as his monthly subscription. The plan was thus fairly launched, and the names gave such official sanction to it as was desirable. Nothing was necessary but for each branch of the service to follow the example set. The response was immediate, and for surpassed all expectations. Before the next number of the Intelligencer for June, appeared, there were three hundred and fifty subscribers. In July these were increased to seven hundred and thirty-seven. In August to nine hundred and forty-nine. Many suggestions of course were made : but the only one listened to was that which under certain circumstances admitted of donations. Thus when the Bishop wrote as follows to Sir Charles Metcalfe: — "I enclose a scheme for building churches by the accumulation of subscriptions of one rupee only per mensem:" and when Sir Charles in answer, sent a donation of one thousand rupees, it was not considered necessary to decline it. The same result in a smaller way followed in other cases, for Lady AVilliam Ben- tinck sent one hundred rupees, and the Hon. Mr. Blunt another hundred. These were all accepted and placed in a separate fund, as aiding and not interfering with the subscrip- tion of one rupee. At the end of about four months, there being nearly two thousand rupees in hand, and a list of nearly one thousand subscribers, success was sufficiently certain to authorise the 36^ THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOIST. [CUAP. XII. calling together of the official persons nominated as trustees. This was accordingly done. The Bishop, Archdeacon, and two Presidency Chaplains, met at the palace, and accepted the trust : and the editor of the Intelligencer, resigning all further responsibility, was appointed first secretary. Certain funda- mental rules were then agreed upon which have required but little alteration since. The fund has been extensively useful, and continues to this day. A short extract from the published Report of the year 1857, will be satisfactory on this point. It is as follows : — " There are now one hundred and twenty churches in this diocese (Calcutta), including those in the course of erection ; and to sixty-six of these has this ' One-Rupee-Subscription Fund' contributed since its commencement in 1834, sums amomiting to eighty -one thousand seven hundred and thirty- eight rupees." But more than this : — the same Report gives an extract from the proceedings of the Governor- General in Council in the financial dei)artment, under date May 26th, 1854, from which it appears that a Mr. Mackenzie having died and bequeathed 8000Z. for the erection, repair, or endowment of churches in India, one half of this, or 4000L, was invested, and placed at the disposal of the Church Building trustees, being the whole amount allotted to the Bengal Presidenc}^ The jDrecedent thus set may be largely followed, and untold blessings may result to India. In no part of the world are houses of God more necessary ; for in no part of the world is there more danger of forgetting and dishonouring Him. The barrack, the cutcherry, or the ball-room, are not fit places to worship God ; and yet in times past there was often no alternative for those who would not " forsake the assembling of themselves together." The injurious effect upon the mind is so well described by one of India's heroes, Avho " being dead, yet speaketh," that a few of his words may well be quoted in this place. Major Hodson who fell atLucknow, writes thus in 1850 : — Our Gothic buildings, our religious-looking churches, have 1S32-34.J INDIA. 363 I am sure, a more restraining and pacifying influence than is generally believed by those who are habituated to them, and have never felt th? want of them. A few cathedrals and venerable -looking edifices would do wonders in our Colonies. Here (in the Punjaub) we have nothing physical to remind us of any creed, but Islamism and Hindooism. The comparative purity of the Moslem's creed is shown admirably in the superiority in taste and form of their places of prayer. Christianity alone is thrust out of sight ! A barrack-room, a ball-room, perhaps a court of justice, serve the purpose for which the ' wisdom and piety of our ancestors ' constructed such noble and stately temples, feeling justly, that the human mind in its weakness required to be called to the exercise of devotion by the senses as well as by the reason and will, that separation from the ordinary scenes of every-day life, its cares, its toils, its amusements, is necessary to train the feelings and thoughts to that state in which religious impressions are conveyed. I have not seen a church for three years and more, nor heard the service of the church read, save at intervals, in a room in which, perhaps, the night before I had been crushed by a great dinner party, or worn out by the bustle and turmoil of suitors. The building in which one toils becomes intimately associated with the toil itself. That in which one prays should at least have some attribute to remind one of prayer." ' The Church-building fund for India has done its part to wipe away this reproach ; and one great advantage it possesses is this : — that if at any time the public interest flags, and the " Fund " sinks down, it is capable of instant revival by an earnest Bishop, and active secretary. He who m the providence of God has taken up the pastoral staff which dropped from his aged predecessor's hands, and now presides worthily over the Indian Church, has abeady spoken an earnest word on this behalf, and has doubtless met with a ready response. Marriage and Divorce Amongst Native Christians. — The whole law of marriage in India was in a very vague and 1 Twelve Years of a Soldier's Life in India," p. 202. 334 THE LIFE OF DANIEL AVILSON. [chap. XII. unsatisfactory state in the Bishop's time, and encroachments were ventured on which involved serious risk and responsibility. Again and again did the Bishop bring the inatter before the Government, and again and again was he requested to suggest a remed}^ and prepare a Marriage Act, which might be sent home and passed through Parliament. The Bishop wrought accordingly, the Government doubted, he altered, they approved. It cost him infinite trouble, and after all, led to no result. It is needless to enter on the question now, as resi^ects British subjects at least, because it has been set at rest by the 13th and 14th Vict. c. 40. But as respects native Christians, both marriage and divorce are open questions, fall of embarrassment, and complicated by polygamy, and heathen courts. This will be evident to the reader if he ponders upon the following cases of conscience : they are a few amongst many. 1. A Hindoo becomes a Christian and is baptised. He has several wives. Shall he retain all ? Or put away all but one ? 2. If he retains but one, according to the Christian rule, which shall it be ? The one he loves the most, or the one he married first ? 8. If the one first married has an equitable and natural right, but is unwilling to remain, may he choose either of the others, who are willing ? 4. If the one first married has no children, and the one last married has several, must he cleave to the childless wife, and dismiss the mother of his children ? 5. In such a case, to wdiom do the children belong, if both parents claim them ? They are heathen by birth : are they to remain so, or be brought up Christians ? 6. If, of two wives, the one first married remains a heathen, and the one last married is baptised with her husband, must he retain the heathen and dismiss the Christian ? 7. A Hindoo boy and girl are betrothed. The one becomes a Christian before marriage, the other remains a heathen. Are they bound to each other, or free to choose ? 8. If both the betrothed become Christians before marriage, are they also bound or free ? 1832—34.] INDIA. 365 9. A Hindoo becomes a Christian and is baptised. All his heathen wives leave him at once and for ever. Is he at liberty to marry again ? 10. His wives who have left him, live in open and avowed adultery with other men, may he apply to the heathen courts to be divorced, and then marry again ? Such questions were arising continually, and they caused great perplexity — not only in themselves, but because a decision given on Christian grounds might be set aside or reversed on legal grounds. Great differences of opinion also prevailed. A number of missionaries of different religious denominations having come together to consider of the matter, resolved, amongst other things, that if a Hindoo, having many wives, became a Christian, it was proper that he should retain them all. A copy of- this resolution was sent to the Bishop through the medium of a committee, who, in making their report say, that the Bishop, " pronounced no decided opinion, but promised to give the matter his best consideration." The meaning of this was clear enough. The Bishop did not approve of the course which they had pursued, nor of the conclusion at which they had arrived ; but he did not choose to speak authoritatively where he had no authority. His purpose and his plan, generally speaking, was to rule each case upon its own merits and by Christian principles, and thus gradually form precedents for uniform action. The episcopal sanction required for adult baptism enabled him to do this in the case of all the Church missionaries. A few cases occurred which he did decide. He decided that the Christian man must be the husband of one wife only, and that wife the first married. Thus he wrote to the native Christians in the south of India, in 1834 : — ' In nothing does true religion more directly benefit society than in the institution of Christian marriage. One man united in Holy Matrimony with one wife, the bond being indissoluble except for the cause of fornication, . our Saviour's blessed rule for domestic purity. The cases of adult married persons, where only one of the parties is converted, are most difficult. 366 THE LITE OF DA^^IEL WILSOX. [chap. XII, A man with two wives, if he become a Chiistiaa, must put one, the last whom he espoused, away, and live chastely with the first wife, who is, in tnith, his only one in the eye of God. Even if the second wife he willing to become a Chnstun, the ahoTe rule of natural equity is not thereforo altered. If the heathen partner, as the Apostle says, decides to go, let her go, hnt let the Christian hve without desidng a seeond marriage during the life of the absent partner. No case, I think, can be fonnd in the New Testament of two wires being allowed, unless the absent party have been duly separated and diroanced by reason of unfaithfulness, before a competent tiibnnaL^ He decided also, that if two natives had. been Irring in concubinage, and now sought instruction in Christianity, they must be married before they could be received. And also, that if a child betrothed in in£mcy 'became m Christian, and the party to whom she had been betrothed was willing to give a legal bill of divorcement before they came together, she was at liberty to many any other man. The pjelatiox of the Chaplajxs to the Gtoveihkmest akb Bishop. — This question concludes the long series of duties which occupied the Bishop during the two years of his resi- dence at Calcutta. The agitation of it caused him more anxiety than all the rest, and brought him almost into eollisian with the Government The somewhat anomalous p<»iti tary persons in many inst , nstitnte the chief part of the congi'egation." 1832—34.] INDIA. 367 This view has been confirmed frequently by the Court of Directors ; as when in 1844, they say : "We have repeatedly stated that our chaplains are not incumbents of parishes or districts, like those in England, and that consequently they do not possess the peculiar rights and privileges of that class. They resemble military and naval chap- lains, who are unbeneficed clergymen, liable to be removed from place to place at the discretion of the Government: " Adding, in a despatch of 1846 : "In order to avoid any misunderstanding for the future, we think it right to declare that our chaplains are not military chaplains." On their first appointment, before the erection of the see, they were required to enter into covenant, " to discharge the duties of their office," and to submit to such regulations of the local governments " as now or hereafter may be in force, and which shall be applicable ; " and which ought to be " obej^ed, observed, and conformed to." This covenant engagement was not altered when, by Act of Parliament, Calcutta was erected into a see, and full power was given to the Bishop to exercise " all manner of jurisdiction, spiritual, and ecclesiastical," throughout his diocese; to visit " all ministers and chaplains, aU priests and deacons in holy orders, with all and all manner of jurisdiction, power, and coercion ecclesiastical;" and to establish an ecclesiastical court, &c. The chaplain came out therefore not only to fill an anoma- lous position, but to obey authorities which might very easily prove contradictory and conflicting. All this afforded matter for serious thought, and it was often discussed by the Governor-General and Bishop, during their morning rides ; and at length on March 29th, 1833, the Bishop received an official letter from the Government, asking him to define the duties of chaplains at military stations, and to give his opinion as to the degree of authority proper to be exercised by commanding officers at such stations. This 368 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. xrr. involved the wliole question, and he replied on April 11th, in a letter of great importance, but too long for insertion here. Ke showed that since the erection of the see and the transfer of all jurisdiction over the clergy to the Bishop, the authority of commanding officers over them had entirely ceased ; he referred to several cases in which this had been already clearl}^ recognised by Government ; and intimated his intention of speedily issuing a series of " Directions " to the clergy, bearing upon the performance of their official and spiritual duties. Acting under these directions, the reverend chaplains would fix the periods for performing divine service when change was necessary ; they would attend the hospitals, inspect the regimental schools, and make periodical reports to the Dioce- san; and they would visit their out-stations at certain times appointed by him. Of all these matters, however, command- ing officers were to be kept informed ; and nothing was to be done affecting the health of the troops, the exigencies of military duty, or the convenience of the station, without their cognisance. If they disapproved of any arrangement that was proposed, their remedy was not to be the exercise of any direct authority, but a representation through the Commander- in-Chief, to the supreme Government, who would refer the matter to the Bishop. Thus order would be preserved and collision prevented. On April 19th, the Government replied as follows: — " His Lordship in Council concurs entirely in the view which your Lordship takes of the power and jurisdiction conferred by the letters-patent of His Majesty on the Bishop of Calcutta, in respect to the control and discipline of the Indian clergy ; but to enable the Governor- General in Council to judge of the instructions which should be issued for the guidance of commanding officers, as proposed in the eighth paragraph of your Lordship's letter, his Lordship in Council requests to have a copy of the " rules and directions " which your Lordship proposes, on your part, to promulgate to the chaplains at the different military stations." The Bishop hastened to do what was thus required, and 1832—34.] INDIA. 369 sent a copy of the Directions he proposed to issue, " in order/' as he says, " that your Lordship may be enabled, as you are pleased to express it, to judge of the instructions which should be issued for the guidance of commanding officers on this subject." Delay ensued. The health of the Governor- General began to fail, and he was sent to sea. On his return, it was found that owing to some oversight or misunderstanding, the '* Rules and Directions " which should have been submitted to the Commander-in-Chief, had been forgotten. The Commander-in- Chief, Sir Edward Barnes, was at Simlah. The transmission of the papers to him caused further delay; and before his opinion could be obtained, he was recalled, and Lord William appointed in his stead. On September 19th, Lord William Bentinck, thus combining in himself the offices of Governor-General and Commander-in Chief, wrote to the Bishop to say that nothing now would interpose to prevent the accomplishment of his wishes, and the promulgation of the Directions. All seemed therefore to be in a fair train for the conclusion of the business ; and yet week passed after week, without any thing being done. Lord William continued unwell, and at length, in the middle of February, 1834, was compelled again to go to sea. The Bishop parted from him on the most friendly terms, and a few days after his embarkation wrote to him, amongst other matters, as follows : — ' We want a plan of education for India. Your lordship need not fear me. I am digging for truth ; and when many are thus engaged, they are sure to meet in the same mine, or very nearly so. If your directions also to the military officers could he issued, peace and harmony would be promoted.' The Bishop little thought that they were already issued ! It will scarcely be believed that the Governor-General had left for insertion in the Gazette, after his departure, "Directions"—- not in accordance with those so often discussed, and so thoroughly agreed upon, but diametrically opposed to them in every particular ! Yet so it was. They bore date, VOL. I. EE 370 THE LIFE OP DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. February 17th; and appeared in the Gazette, on Wednesday, February 26th. The Bishop had retired to Tittaghur for rest ; and when he first saw them he could not believe his eyes. He thought it was a mistake. He sent them in to his chaplain, underscored, and with these words written : — " Did you ever see anj^thing so absurd ! " and then sitting down at once, he thus addressed the secretary to Government. ' Tittaghur, Thursday, February 27, 1834. * I am petrified at the notice concerning the clergy in the Gazette of last evening. Surely it must have been a mistake. It is in direct contradiction to the Governor-General in Council's letter to me, declaring his entire concurrence in my view of the new relations of the clergy now there is a Bishop. That view proceeded on the temporal appointment and regula- tion resting, of course, with the Government, but the spiritual directions being transferred to the Bishop. On this footing, the Governor- General requested to see my proposed "Directions," that he might judge what corresponding orders to issue to military officers ; and now orders appear to the chaplains with regard to their spiritual functions, without any reference whatever to the Bishop's approbation or authority. *Have the kindness to favour me with a call tomorrow morning in Calcutta. You will perhaps remember that you promised me that nothing should appear without my first seeing it. I had gone over with you the whole of the Directions, and also with the Governor- General, and altered everything suggested to me ; there must be some mistake, I conclude, therefore, in this notification in the Gazette.' But there was no mistake. An elaborate official letter to Government, following this private letter to the Secretary, elicited an equally elaborate official reply, in which it was asserted that : " all manner of authority and control possessed heretofore over chaplains by the Government, remained un- touched by the issue of letters -patent to the Lord Bishop ; and that it would not be expedient or proper, to issue any public orders in modification, or for the suspension of those 1832-31] INDIA. 371 issued on February 17th." It was added also that it was the impression of his Honour in Council that the course adopted was " specifically, that which the Eight Hon. the Governor- General determined upon and laid down, prior to his lordship's embarkation for the Madras presidency." To the Governor- General the Bishop at once appealed in several letters. An extract from one of them will sers^e to place the ground of complaint in the strongest light : — 'June 9, 1834. * The position of things was this : — * 1. The Governor- General was pleased to apply to me in the first instance. * 2. I reply honestly and candidly. * 3. The Government assures me it agrees with me entirely in my views. * 4. The Government fui-ther requests me to let them see my proposed "Directions " to the clergy, in order that the Governor- General may judge what instructions to issue to the military officers. * 5. I, in an evil hour, send my Du-ections ; relying most implicitly on the assurance that they were requested for the specific purpose before stated, and would be used for that, and none other. ' 6. A correspondence ensues, in order that my spiiitual du'ections may not entrench upon civil or miKtary rights and usages. ' 7. Everything is settled. '8. I am waiting the moment when the Government issues its instructions to the militaiy officers, that I may immediately' send round a Circular in my own private way, and by my own channels, to the clergy, containing my spiritual directions. * Such is my impression of the position of things — in which honour, truth, public duty, respect for your lordship, gratitude, everything led me to repose. ' Imagine then my consternation at seeing Orders issued : — * 1. Not to the militaiy, but to the clergy. B B 2 372 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON [chap. XII. ' 2. Not by the Bishop, but by the Vice-President in Council. ' 3. Not agreeable to the rules agreed upon, but every one of them materially different. * 4. Not in a private circular, but in the Gazette. * 5. Not after notification given to the Bishop of the change, but without his cognisance. ' 6. Not when the Governor- General was in Calcutta, where a remedy might be quickly applied, but during his lordship's absence at Madras. * 7. Not upon a slight matter, but on a question involving the whole force and effect of the Bishop's letters- patent, and his authority with the clergy. ' Such are my views.' Two days afterwards, that is, on June 11th, he wrote a final and official letter to the Government, recapitulating the whole matter, and adding these weighty words : — * With the episcopal functions weakened, and the danger of fresh orders being issued by the Civil Government, after the precedent of Feb. 17th, a conflict of duties must necessarily be produced in the minds of the clergy. They are quite aware of the ecclesiastical law, they look up to the Bishop as judge and administrator of that law, and they consider him as the originator of all improvements and alterations in their spiritual duties according to it. When therefore cross powers appear ; and the Bishop and ecclesiastical canons say one thing, and the Civil Government another, a conflict of duties arises. Their ordination vows are on one side, their earnest desire to obey their civil governors on the other. I speak this advisedly. From all parts of the Diocese, reclamations are coming in to me. In some cases military authorities are complained of, as going beyond even the language of the Orders in their widest interpretation. In other cases, the clergy are blamed for not conforming to Orders, which it is impossible for me as Bishop to enforce or approve. I have already more than one clergyman who informs me that he has been conscientiously compelled, at whatever risk, to disobey one order (concerning i 1832-34.] INDIA. 378 the visitation of the sick) as proceeding from the wrong authority, and contradicting the obligations of his previous oaths and engagements.' These words touched Government to the quick ; and in their reply, amidst many strong arguments and courteous expressions^ this sentiment was put forth prominently and distinctly, that they claimed all power over all persons whether lay or clerical, and in case of disobedience, were prepared to exercise it. One step more, and there would have been direct collision. But the Bishop drew back. His appeals had been in vain, his reasoning had proved useless, and now he felt that resistance would be folly. It was not that the "Directions" themselves were of such great importance ; it was the principle involved, viz : the recognition of the Bishop's authority, and the consequent freedom of the chaplains from military control. Even as it re- spects this principle itself ; it is not to be inferred necessarily, that the Government was wrong, and the Bishop right. That may be left uncertain. But there can be no uncertainty about the course pursued. If the Government had not wanted the Bishop's counsel, they need not have sought it. If they had differed with him in opinion, they might have stated it. If they had on consideration changed their minds, they should have acknowledged it. But their action was in violation of all pledges, and involved what in common language, and between man and man, would be considered a betrayal of confidence, and a breach of honour. There was, after all, little mystery about the matter. The promulgation of the " Directions " in the form and manner originally agreed upon, would have formed a precedent for future action, and would have trans- ferred a certain amount of authority from the Government to the Bishop. This was not perhaps at first perceived ; but when perceived, could not, it is presumed, be tolerated. Hence the delay and the alteration. The long arguments subsequently urged both by the Governor- General and Vice-President in Council, in justifica- tion of the course pursued, have not been much dwelt upon, or quoted, because, even if valid, they were out of place and I 374 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. xn. self- contradictory. Contradicting the Bishop's views, they contradicted their own official letter of April 19th, concurring in those views. They should have been written before the full and entire approbation of Government had been expressed : or they should not have been written at all. The Bishop, however, as already mentioned, submitted ; and he submitted so cheerfully and frankly, that no one could have suspected how much his feelings had been wounded, and his confidence in public men shaken. In conference, his words were these : * We must now fall back upon our proper position, and high objects — the work of God, and the good of souls. I have lost a year and a half ; but I have preached one hundred and fifty times. That is not lost. This matter must be pushed no further. The point is now to submit " to the powers that be," as a Christian bishop should do, willingly, instantly, cheer- fully. It is a trial, sent from God, to bid us cease from man. We have done all we could : to do more would be a step too far. Let us pray.' He then knelt down, and with his chaplain, prayed for unfeigned submission, for grace to take up and bear the cross, and for the fulfilment of the promise, that all things should be made to work together for good. In his private notes, he wrote thus : — *If after consulting a bishop as to the relative position of military officers and chaplains, and agreeing solemnly with the explanations given, the Government can then publish Orders in contradiction to that explanation, and their own avowed pledge of concurrence : — if they do this without inform- ing the Bishop — if they do it after having communicated other points of diiOference, but concealed this : — What can a Bishop do or hope for ? Where is faith and trustworthiness to be found ? *BuT, hush my soul! Silence thy human reasonings and carnal complaints ! This is Thy hand, 0 my God, and Thou Lord, hast done it. Is it not by thy permission, and for the spiritual humiliation of the Christian, that the events of this 1832-34.] INDIA. 375 world take place ? Before thy righteousness I desire to bow ; trusting that Thou canst reverse these evils, if for our real and highest good ; and believing that Thou art calling on us to cease from man and creature i)rops, and to roll ourselves entirely and unreservedly on thy almighty arm.' To the Government he wrote as follows : — * I beg leave to assure the Vice-President in Council, that I shall entirely submit to his decision, and do all in my power to promote a cheerful compliance throughout the Diocese, with the wishes of Government. * I trust I shall not be thought presumptuous in saying that I have been unfortunately misunderstood in the main point sup- posed to be at issue. I have never wished nor thought of an in- dependent control over the ecclesiastical establishment of India. 'I submit cheerfully to the decision of the Supreme Govern- ment. I have nothing more to say. I trust my letters will be allowed to bear the character of a Protest, whenever the Governor-General or the authorities at home, may be disposed to re-arrange the state of the relations between the Indian Bishop, and the Reverend the Clergy of this diocese.' Here the matter ended : and was not revived. It looked larger when it occurred, than it does now — for time has its perspective. But the narrative is still important ; and it is inserted here, not so much to prejudge or to decide upon the point at issue, as to show the kind of trials to which an Indian Bishop is exposed, and the spirit in which such trials should be borne. The Indian climate, and the pressure of the varied business thus narrated, were evidently producing their effect upon the Bishop, and though his health stood firm, much of the early buoyancy was gone. It was evident that change of air and scene, however much to be deprecated at first, was now become desirable, and it was well that the two years assigned for his residence in Calcutta were drawing to a close, and that his primary visitation was at hand. His movements also were 376 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. xii. hastened by the serious illness of his daughter, which rendered a sea voyage indispensable. He intimated accordingly to the Government his intention of visiting the eastern settlements of Penang, Moulmein, Malacca, and Singapore, and from thence stretching across the Bay of Bengal to Madras and Ce3'lon ; and he requested that a vessel might be provided for himself and his suite about the loth August. His application having been duly-acknowledged, he turned his undivided attention to the preparation of his charge. With the primary visitation however, which this charge inaugurated, another chapter commences, and the present one may fitly be concluded with extracts from the voluminous correspondence carried on during the two years which it embraces. To have introduced the letters, each in their proper place, would have interrupted the narrative too much. It may be mentioned incidentally that letters were written every half year to the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, the President of the Board of Control, and the two venerable societies for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and the Propagation of the Gospel, containing for the most part the narrative of his proceedings, and the method he adopted for infusing life and vigour into all missionary operations. These letters met with a most prompt and courteous response ; and the suggestions they contained were thankfully received and readily acted on. But they are far too long for insertion here, and their contents will have been in most cases anticipated. The attention of the reader, therefore, will be required only to such letters as admit of extracts, and contain matter new or interesting. Such will conclude each chapter in succession. LETTERS TO HIS FAMILY. * Calcutta, March, 1833. ' I have been perfectly well more than twenty weeks, with the mere slight variations to which the term " well " is always subject. The hot season has now begun. How it will suit me I know not. It is with God. I use all prudence, and am 1832—34.] INDIA. 377 then without solicitude as to results. I have had much inter- course with the Governor- General since his coming to the Presidency on February 5th. He is friendly to Christianity, a whig and Hberal, no great churchman, but favourably in- clined to the church in proportion to its efficiency. Prayer is all I plead for, from you and my dear friends, that the Divine Saviour, who has the key of David may say, " I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it." I am daily more and more delighted with my work, and find it of course multi- plying on my hands.' * Easter Monday, April 8, 1833. * Yesterday, Easter Day, the heat on coming out of church at one o'clock, was like a blazing furnace; but we were in the carriage, closely shut up, in a moment. We have nothing but mercy, goodness, and truth to record — kind friends, immense prospects of usefulness, attentive congregations, a peaceful happy family, the presence of our Saviour, and we trust. His approbation and blessing, which is better than life itself. The collection yesterday at the cathedral was above three thousand two hundred rupees, or about 320/, The communicants were one hundred and eighty- six. The attendants at church five hundred and sixty. At the old church the attendants were seven hundred, and the communicants about three hundred. At the Free Church, attendants two hundred, communicants seventy. All this is an improvement.' ' April 9th. ' Yesterday we had the Governor- General and suite, and the principal persons of the settlement to dinner. "We sat down sixty-two, at eight o'clock, which at this time of the year is the universal dinner hour. By having all the doors and windows open, and punkahs, fifty feet long, going all the time, we were very comfortable. It was a mere ordinary occurrence in this country. All were gone by half-past ten o'clock, and I was on horseback again at five this morning.' < TiTTAQHUR, May, 1833. * Here I am sitting after breakfast in my open verandah facing this noble river, which is bursting upon my sight with its boats and native craft on three sides, west, south, and north. On the opposite bank is Aldeen House, where David Brown 378 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. xii. lived, and the very pagoda which Henry Martyn made his study. A larger heathen temple is near. Serampore is further up the river on the north, with the Government House at Barrackpore on this bank. On the south, other private houses are scattered here and there. The Thames is nothing in comparison of this vast river. The foliage on each bank, and in our garden, is of oriental luxuriance — the betel, the palm, the banian, the bamboo. The only deduction is a constant heat which un- nerves, depresses, annihilates the European mind and energies.' ' Calcutta, May^ 1833. * I do not conceive that the future period of peace will be accompanied by conformity of opinion on all secondary matters, any more than all heights, all faces, all bodily powers, all mental faculties, all education, all habits, will be the same. Indeed, conformity of opinion on lesser matters would extin- guish the elements of that charity, which would lose its fairest occasion of exercise when there was nothing to bear with. My notion is, that such men as Dr. Steinkopff, Haldane Stewart, Joseph John Gurney, George Clayton, Dr. Chalmers, Joseph Hughes, and John Howard, thoroughly " walk in love," not domineering, not interposing one with another, but working each his own machinery, and encouraging others to do the same to the very utmost. May we never be occasions of stumbling ! May we never mistake charity for mdifference on the one hand, nor let it be substituted for party spirit on the other. Some men praise their party and call it charity ; and some men are utterly careless about religion, and they also call it charity.' * Calcutta, May, 1833. * I am put to the full stretch ; for here everything is called in question ojoenly and arrogantly. The experience of nearly forty years in the affaii's of different societies, and errors of the spiiitual Church, is of unspeakable moment to me. My mild, and yet, I hope, firm churchmanship, which has been main- tained all my life at home, in the face of high-church principles, and no-church principles, is again of infinite importance. Even the mechanical advantage of a loud voice, and habit of preacliing from notes, are a great benefit now. I preach more 1832—34.] INDIA. 379 freely, boldly, and as far as I can judge, simply, than ever I did in my life. The work opening before me is immensely important. I fear to enter upon particulars, lest I should grieve the Blessed Comforter ; and in fact, I cannot give par- ticulars. The day shall declare it.' * Calcutta, May, 1834. * I write to rejoice your hearts with the tidings of the safe arrival on May 1st, of the Hugh Lindsay steamer, with your dear letters of February Gth. A heap of three months' intelli- gence was inexpressibly charming. All is going on dehghtfully as to spiritual things, but most agitatingly as to temporal. I don't wonder Mr. Grant has received the impression of my high-churchmanship, for Lord William has no notion of ecclesiastical matters. Never regard one word you hear. I rejoice in loving all that love our Lord Jesus Christ, but I have taken oaths ! The Caste question is absorbing my attention. Persecution and reproaches are rising on all hands. I rejoice to meet them. I hail them as . marks of coming blessings. My health is perfect. I am just as well now as when I landed, except, of course, deterioration of mind and body. But at any moment, I may fall like others. There will be no interval, no time for consideration ; there is but a step here between health and the grave. So, do not be surprised at anything. I rejoice and praise God for allowing me to come, and I would set out again to-morrow if I had to do so again.' ' TiTTAGHUR, May, 1834. ' The weather is perfectly suffocating. None can pity us but those who know our sufferings. The mind, body, functions, tempers, words, and feelings are all morbidly affected; and nothing remains but deep-seated principles of religion on which to fall back. There is the rock. The new scene of trials quickens its pace, and towers as it approaches. But it is good for us. Distinction, publicity, noise, intercourse with mankind, station, novel circumstances, authority, are all POISON to the soul, and have been distilling their venom secretly ever since we arrived. Now come the compensating and humbling dispensations. It is impossible to describe the difficult cases which arise in " ruling in the fear of God " a vast diocese like this ; with every body around you as sensitive, 380 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSOX. [chap. xn. and as morbidly peevish as you are yourself. Then to dis- tinguish what is the path of duty — where cowardice begins, and forbearance ends — how to keep down the ** old man " in oneself, whilst public order is not neglected in the execution of official duty. All this is difficult. But it is nothing com- pared with the Heaet, which is to be kept ** with all dihgence," as out of it are " the issues of life." All other things would be as nothing if they did not corrupt the heart, weaken the hold on Christ, enfeeble love, and damp holy joy and com- munion. There seems a universal decay in this dissolving scene, extending to everything. We need your prayers for Grace sufficient. * I have given a Hst of some hundreds of volumes from my Islington libi*ary. I long for my miscellaneous Hterature, my theology, my Fathers, my French divines, my parliamentary records. I find I cannot go on without my books for continual reference. Add to my list all you know I may occasionally use, especially the Oriental. I want no German, nor Spanish, nor ItaUan, as I have lost those languages.' TO A SCRUPULOUS CHAPLAIN. * Nwtmber, 1832. * I reserve my judgment on this particular affair till I have the whole of the case before me ; but you will allow me to say that, unless in the case of excommunication, I doubt whether we can refuse the rites of burial. Nor do I know that it would be expedient or desirable : as any allowed cases of exemption would go to the making each individual clergyman a judge of the spiritual state of the departed, and thus introduce endless confusion. The very fact of the service being used in all but excommunicated instances, renders the danger you anticipate less than it would otherwise be. Whereas, if certain cases could be excepted, the fearful confirmation given to all othei-s would be a prominent evil following on the change. I conceive it a safer and more prudent course to let all the occasional offices stand on their obvious ground, supj)lying by the ordinary doctrines in the pulpit and in private, the cautions necessary. No more importance would then be attached to them by the survivors and bystanders, than there ought to be 1832—34.] INDIA. 381 in a National Church, where general rules must necessarily be adhered to. But I will give you my more matured judgment on a fit opportunity. In the meantime, let me comfort you under the painful feelings and many sorrows which the ministry of the Gospel in a foreign land, and at a distance from the Bishop, must occasion. • Preach humbly and faithfully, my dear sir, the great redemption by the Son of God. Dis- criminate clearly and affectionately between the outward privileges of the Church, and the real obedience and love of the sincere Christian. Apply closely and discreetly to the hearts and consciences of men the calls and invitations of the Gospel. Pray much yourself, and exhort your hearers to pray for the blessed influences of the Holy Spirit ; and you will find that the general administration of the Sacraments and rites of the Church will not be fatally misunderstood.' TO A CARELESS CHAPLAIN. ' ApHl, 1833. ' My mind will remain open to all the statements and explanations you may ofi'er. I came here as the father of the younger, and friend of the senior chaplains. If there have been negligences, or remissness, a candid avowal and determined resolution to enter on a new and better course of duty will be your wisdom, aud will gradually establish a fairer reputation for you ; for probably you are the last person to know how widelj^ unfavourable impressions have spread. To save the souls of our flocks — to preach to them the spiritual doctrines of the divine Revelation entrusted to us — to set forth a crucified Saviour as the awakened sinner's hope — to exhibit the sacred operations of the Holy Ghost as the author and giver of Hfe — to enforce holiness, the love of God, a heavenly temper, and a spirit of prayer — to urge the various duties of social life, and all the ten commandments, as the fruits of faith and following after justification : these are the main topics of our apostolical ministry of the Church, and of the Scriptures on which that Church is founded. And then follows the minister's life and example, which must sustain his doctrine and enforce his exhortation; or all he preaches will be worse than nothing, as our Ordination service strongly teaches.' 382 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. TO A CHAPLAIN OF A QUIET SPIRIT. * January 11, 1834. * I have received such pleasing accounts of your character and spirit, of your diligent and conscientious search after truth, that I feel much at liberty in writing to you. My heart is enlarged in exhorting you to walk worthy of the high and difficult vocation wherewith you are called. Preach as St. Paul did, " Christ " to the people. Be determined, as St. Paul was, to know nothing hut " Jesus Christ, and Him crucified." Glory in nothing, after St. Paul's example, but in " the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." Ascribe everything good in man, as St. Paul did, to God, who " worketh in us both to will and to do of his good pleasure." In a word, abase and humble the sinner — set forth the Saviour — promote and inculcate holiness. * Take, dear sir, for your models of divinity, not the current theology of the day, but the Epistles of St. Paul, the thirty-nine Articles of the Church of England, the Book of Homilies, the Augsburg Confession : or, of modern names, take J. B. Sumner, Bishop of Chester ; Archbishop Leighton ; Bishop Hopkins ; Bishop Davenant ; Bishop Pearson ; Bishop Porteus, &c. As to sermons, Cooper's sermons, Joseph Milner's sermons, Brad- ley's sermons, are good as patterns. But, I pray you, to com- pose one sermon from your own head and heart, with prayer each week, when sickness forbids not.' TO AN OFFENDING CHAPLAIN. ' May, 1833. * I am aware, of course, that it is not in my power to do much to enforce an efficient discharge of the ministerial functions. Prayer, earnest and mild representations, are my chief instruments. But occasions, at the same time, are not wanting when the faithful, laborious, and truly pious clergy- man can be promoted, and those of a contrary description removed to less prominent stations, by application to the Governor- General in council ; whilst, for ofi"ences against dis- cipline, immediate remedies are provided, of which you are doubtless quite aware. ' But I turn from this painful part of the subject, which is 1832—34.] INDIA. 383 rendered necessary by the style of your letter, to the far more agreeable and hopeful prospect which I trust will open before me in m}^ future intercourse with you. Any one may be for a time comparatively torpid in his spiritual duties, and from the new and strange scenes of an East Indian life be thrown off his guard. The relaxing influence also of the climate demands great consideration. Little, petty and unkind feelings also, are apt to be generated in a small society. The recollections of England at times oppress the heart and paralyse exertion. The idea of being an exile, looking for a return to our home, is apt to make us less earnest about our own immediate duties. These, and similar impediments arise, for which large allowance is to be made. I beg you, my reverend brother, to spare me any further pain, by making yourself, frankly and nobly, a trial of what you can do, to satisfy the reasonable wishes of the inhabitants of your station. I shall truly be rejoiced to hear of your success in making such an attempt. The moment you take the first step, cheerfull}^ and kindly, others will fall in with your wishes. You will be a happier, because a more useful and respected man. You will soon recover any ground you may have seemed to lose, and God wiU bless you.' TO A YOUNG CATECHIST. * April, 1833. * I address you myself, that I may show the tenderness of the good shepherd towards the wandering sheep. Your con- fession and submission are too cold, general, and unsatisfactory. I cannot favour you with a re-admission to the privileges you have forfeited, till I see a contrite heart and a mind touched with a sense of sin. My young friend, God requires a broken spirit. You cannot teach others till you have learned yourself to bow in heart before the Lord. Come then, return unto the Lord. Take with you words and turn to Him. When I receive one line from you, not of flattery or servility, but of genuine penitence and grief for sin as committed against God, I shall know what to do about you. The Lord, even the Lord Jesus, have mercy on you and bless you.' 384 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. xii. TO A TOtNG CHAPLAIN. ' May, 1834. * Allow me to suggest, as to a younger brother, the importance of your writmg new sermons gathered from the Holy Scriptures, from the observations you make of the people around you, and from the feelings and reflections excited in prayer and meditation. Devotional, simple, evangelical addresses rather than sermons, pointed to the heart and conscience, are most likely to be really useful in a new sphere. ' The first thing is, to bring the civilians and soldiers to be real Christians — penitents, believers in the merits and death of our blessed Saviour, separated from their sins, awakened to a real sense of the nature and importance of Christianity. * The second thing is, to train them to the moral duties and habits which are the fruits of faith, and follow after justification. * The third is, to attach them firmly, but charitably to the discipline and order of our Apostolical Church. * For all these ends, the grace of the Holy Spirit is essential, (1) to teach us, that we may rightly teach others : (2) to guide us into all truth : (3) to bless our study of the Scriptures : (4) to give us success generally in our labours.' TO A MISSIONARY, ON TEMPER. ' Jidy, 1834. ' Let me, as I am writing, repeat what I said to you, on the extreme importance of watching over the temper in this irritating climate, so that the " adversary may be ashamed, having no evil thing to say of us." Strong minds like yours, and weak ones like , commonly fail from opposite causes in this respect. The most decided conquest of grace in the heart of man is the conquest over natural temperament. Nor is contempt a whit better than open hostility ; because it is more the fruit of pride in ourselves, and is more galling to an opponent.' 1832—34.] INDIA. 385 TO A CHAPLAIN, ON THE BURIAL OF ROMAN CATHOLICS. * June 11, 1883. * The case you mention requires extraordinarj- discretion. I should he inclined to inform the Eoman Catholic priest — ' (1) That 3'ou had written to me. '(2) That I was anxious to preserve peace and harmony amongst all classes of persons so far as the laws and canons and usages of the Protestant Church of England would allow. ' (3) That our Protestant churches and churchyards were undoubtedly designed for our own communion. * (4) That if others were presented for interment, our office ought to be complied with and used, in point of right, by our own clergy. ' (5) But that for the sake of peace and goodwill, the per- mission might be granted for the Roman Catholic ministers to perform the service. * (0) In which case it must be done in the Roman Catholic chapel, or at the house of the deceased. * (7) That the laws and canons will allow of no other course. *(8) But that if any grievance is complained of, I will represent it at home, and learn the more exact mind of the Archbishop. ' (9) That I was unwilling to take up the matter officially, at present, hoping that, upon the case being explained, no practical difficulty would remain. * Such is the demi-official course which I should be incliDed to recommend, so as not to compromise our rights as Protes- tants, and yet not to light up a flame that might not quickly be subduedj more particularly in military bodies. I shall be glad to hear that no explosion has taken place. A great part of wisdom consists in knowing how to manage in such delicate junctures. In the mean time, your general ministr}^ my dear sir, your doctrine, your spirit, your life will testify for you, and gain more and more the confidence of the whole station where you are placed. The Gospel of our meek and lowly Saviour when full}' set forth in all its glory and grace, and VOL. I. c c 386 THE LIFE OF DANIEL WILSON. [chap. XII. when supported by a consistent, liberal, kind-hearted, hoi}', dignified conduct, attracts esteem and engages love. I commend you and your ministry to the Blessed Saviour.' TO THE ARCHDEACON OF MADRAS. ' Aurjust, 1833. * What hard work it is to walk with God, to live by faith, and to maintain an elevated tone of godliness, when the climate unnerves, the habits of the country debilitate, and the natural dejection of the spirits disqualify. I conceive that to be a Christian in India is an effort of grace indeed ! ' I begin to feel, what I might have expected before now, the evil of propagating rumours. Every public man is exposed to this. Please to believe nothing you hear about me, and pray be as silent as you can ; for mouths, and ears, and eyes, are all on the alert to catch me tripping : and trip I do and must, or else lie torpid and useless, with my talent hid in a napkin. I anticipate storms when the first novelty is over, and the reali- ties of the Gospel begin to operate on the Indian public. But so suff'ered our Master, and so must all His faithful servants ! ' TO THE ARCHDEACON OF NEW SOUTH WALES, ON CONFIRMATION, AND CONSECRATION OF CHURCHES. ' September, 1833. * The important topics of consecration of churches, and con- firmation, to which you advert, I dare hardly approach. Per- sonally considered, I feel little difficult3^ Whoever else may hope to visit New South Wales from Calcutta, I, at my age of fifty-six, can never expect such a happiness. So that as far as I am concerned, any resource would appear desirable to me that was proposed and approved by yourself. I pause, how- ever, before I venture to act. I do not exactly understand what species of authority the late Archbishop of Canterbury can have given, or whether the commission could extend beyond the particular case or cases for which it was designed. I have heard of such a commission being sent to India in former times, but it was specific, and terminated in a single act. I also question whether it ever extended to what, techni- cally speaking, may be called consecrations. It must liave 18D2— 34.] INDIA. 387 been merely a kind of more solemn license, leaving the peculiar episcopal benediction and power of consecration inviolate. TJie otlier question of confirmation is involved in less -diffi- culty. The permission for the young to approach the Lord's table when desirous of confirmation, is allowed by the rubric. The examination of them privately, and the decision upon their qualifications, all fall within the office and duty of a presbyter. Of course you do not read the confirmation service, nor proceed to imposition of hands, nor pronounce that apostolical benediction which has ever been accounted (with ordination, jurisdiction, correction of doctrine and discipline, and superintendence) the peculiar spiritual province vested in the office termed Episcopal. Any solemnity which can be given to your examination and admission to the Holy Com- munion, short of these things, would of course be most desirable at your distance from your diocesan.' ON A COMPLAINT MADE BY A HIGH CIVILIAN AGAINST A CHAPLAIN'S PREACHING. 'August, 1834. * Allow me to remind you how very delicate my position is. If I proceed officially — then false doctrine, heresy, suspension, deprivation, are the terms which must be employed. If I proceed upon rumour, I throw suspicion and distress, without possibly the least advantage, into the mind of the chaplain, and those he might suppose to have originated it. The case is difficult. I will do what I properly can. On that, dear sir, I pray you to rely. ' No article of religion would, moreover, be more difficult to treat legally and by strict canons, than that respecting our " regeneration." General expressions, want of distinctions for the body of the audience ; deficiencies in expounding the nature and importance of the spiritual life ; mistakes, or apparent mistakes, in confounding baptismal regeneration, which is true, with the new creation of the moral and intel- lectual powers issuing in repentance and faith, which is not true ; — all this is not easily substantiated before a Bishop in the seat of judgment. c 0 2 8SS THE LIFE OF DINIEL ^VILSON. [cnAP. xn. ' 1. Heresy is tangible : the denial, for instance, of the Trinity, the fall of man, the Incarnation, the Divinity of Christ, l^'C. ' •2. Neglect of duty is tangible. * 3. Vice is tangible. * 4. Profaneness is tangible. * You perceive, dear sir, my meaning. I repeat, that I shall do what I can. You are to remember two things : first, that no chaplain is immoveable ; and, secondly, that conversion and improvement may visit, by divine goodness, any heart, at any time, by unexpected means. * For the rest, I shall be happy, most happy, to hear from you. Kindness is of amazing virtue. Try what you can do, by heaping coals of fire upon his head.' CHAPTER XIII. PRIMARY VISITATION. 183-1—1535. Eifchop's Cbaige — Voyiige to Periang — Scf nery — Prcductions— P(»puIation — Episcopal review — Penang hill — Singapore — Church building — Schools — Larding at Malacca — Joss House — Dutch Church — Moulmein — Consecration of the Church — Ceylon : its troubled State — ]\rarriage Licences — Bible Translations — Dutch Pro- ponents— Cotta — Splendid scenery — Kandy — x\ncient Temple — King's Palace — Bh